It’s October. And if I have done a thousand little things right and managed to mitigate any bad luck, I should be sitting in Kona Hawaii. This year, 2018, marks the 40th anniversary of the Ironman Triathlon World Championships and I am in Kona to share in some pain.

This is my 14th world championship on the Big Island (five times Ironman; nine times Ultraman) and in preparing for this year’s Ironman I can’t help but look back and smile. My first Kona Ironman was in 1994, long before social media, the WTC marketing machine, and M dot calf tattoos.

Back then, there were but a handful of Ironman races world-wide; all sorts of characters posted up to any one of those start lines. We seemed to know each other, if not personally then certainly by reputation. What had started out with a bunch of endorphin junkies looking for a challenge morphed rapidly into this global enterprise we now know as Ironman.

Then and now

I first qualified for Kona on a $550 aluminum Schwinn, six-speed, road bicycle. My race kit included a cloth-covered Styrofoam helmet, first generation “clipless” pedals (downhill ski bindings), and a hand pump mounted on the frame.

At the 94 Kona Ironman, Gatorade was the title sponsor and launched the first of its kind in sport nutrition: a sports gel branded as “Gator Lode”. I couldn’t imagine putting anything called Gator Lode into my mouth. Just goes to show what I knew; today’s global successes in sport gels speak for themselves.

Stretching Lycra

Arriving by air to the Kona side of the Big Island is not exactly the paradise-like setting one might expect. The lava desert that spans the coast of the island is black, bleak and looks more like a moonscape.

Descending the aircraft stairs is like walking into a blast furnace. Welcome to Kona. The wind, the heat, and the high calibre competition are what make this race so special. There are countless distractions during race week in

Kona – it is the big show, after all. For the most part, I will take a pass on hanging around the venue during race week.

I am, though, looking forward to showing up at the Pier at 7 a.m. during race week.  A who’s who in triathlon will be hanging around the Pier, telling stories and managing pent up, nervous excitement.

There was a time when everyone raced in Speedos, but not so much anymore. There isn’t any room to hide “overwhelming excitement” in a Speedo, if you get my drift. And if I have done all of those little things right and mitigated any bad luck, I’ll be excited once again to head over to the Pier in my Speedo, ready to stretch the lycra. Let the games begin.