The Boogeyman

Before I was a triathlete, I was a mountain biker. As a matter of fact, my tradition of coming to Hawaii in October for a triathlon World Championship started in 2000, when I first signed up for the Xterra race on Maui – an off-road triathlon. I did pretty well in those races, getting a 2nd place in my AG in 2004, and two third places. But I never felt comfortable, and the main reason for that is … I don’t like bombing downhill on a bike, anymore.

Back in the 90s, when I was still in my 40s, I used to track my PR for downhill speed. The Courage Classic, which features three 3000’+ Cascade mountain passes, was a great place for getting up towards 50 mph on two wheels. And the tandem Cheryl and I rode across the country in ’97 offered as chance to actually break the half century mark … in Iowa!

But in the early ’00s, things changed. I turned 50. Cheryl began to assert her concerns about smoking hell bent for leather down a 7% grade. I was in two events where men my age died taking a corner too fast after a steep descent … RAMROD (Ride Around Mt Rainier in One Day) in 2000, and IM California in 2001. And I started doing those darned mountain bike triathlons, where people actually raced on their machines. I never could figure out how to safely get up any speed going down the treacherous lava strewn paths of Haleakala, and have several scars on my shins as proof that I certainly didn’t know how to descend at speed safely. So I started going slower and slower, and that put an effective end to my Xterra success, as I was unwilling to take the level of risk required to do well.

Finally, after 2005, I started riding much more in the Rockies to train for IMs, and found that going down the endless narrow track of Independence Pass (4000′ in 17 miles) on a skitterish time trial bike, lacking drop bars, was not fun, or stable, simply nerve racking.

So, starting in ’06, when I began racing here, I found that certain downhill sections played with my mind. It wasn’t the steepness, or the length so much. The steepest parts of the race are in the 6% range, nothing exciting at all, really. And the longest sustained slope is only about 300 vertical feet down, no longer than many roads which I ride all the time from my house.

The problem, for me, was/is the wind. The Big Island, due to its unique geography, gets some crazy winds. Downhills can be especially nerve racking for this. Often, at the crest of a climb, the rider is protected from wind by a road cut meant to soften the gradient. Then, part way down, the highway emerges from the protection of this cut, and an open exposed gully appears. No trees, just lava, and the wind slams the biker sideway, often in the direction of the traffic.

The worst spot is coming downhill from Hawi. This is the longest hill on the course, and the direction – a gradual left curve – and locale – sitting on the edge of the Kohala volcano on the left over the ocean on the right – combine to exacerbate an already devious set up for swirling winds. Hawi sits at the very northern tip of the Island, so there is nothing to stop the natural sea breezes or trade winds from lashing around the corner. Not for northing does the local power company operate some wind turbines at this spot.

Things start out with a tail wind, on a slight downhill grade of 1%. Perfect for high speed cruising. But as the road turns left, it becomes more exposed to both the downslope compression of the trades, and the upslope rise from the ocean. So a side wind, from either direction, or both, sets up just as the gradient steepens.

Weighing “only” 145#, I don’t have a lot of natural stability to counteract that effect. So I start to wobble, grab for the brakes, and just get scared for the 10 minutes or so it takes to get down this section. Making it worse, this drop is followed by 10 miles or more of frustrating “rollers”. And the cool upland breezes are replaced by an oven baking heat as the sun, off my right shoulder, slams against the hillside to my left.

And, the turn at Hawi comes half way into the bike – so there is a lot of work left, in the warmest part of the day. All this combines to make that downhill and those rollers the crux of the race for me. It usually takes the fun right out of the day, and sets me up for a low point which lasts hours, as I wend my way into the lava fields, false flats and freaky winds which lie ahead on the final 35 miles.

I’m determined to not let myself get into that low mental state anymore. So I’m going to ride that section 3 times in the two weeks before the race. Today, things went pretty smoothly. I’ve learned how to stay steady and within my box on the uphill. And the road had been recently repaved – like within the past few weeks, so the squirrely pavement in the rollers is gone, and I can just think about keeping the pedals moving, not where the next little crack in the road might be, to say nothing of whether the rumble strip will all of a sudden veer into my path (they’ve yet to stamp those depressions into the surface). So that takes one worry away. I’m just left with those ten minutes of downhill/wind to fend with.

While I did not find the inner strength to simply will those feelings away, I was able to convince myself that I could live with the fear for ten minutes, and also with the fact that younger, braver riders are simply going to be flying by me there. I’m not 45 again, and I do fear falling and breaking a hip, so I’ll just have to live with that.

It all worked; my time for this section – the long hill, the multiple rises and drops of the rollers, and the biting winds – was just about 2 hours, as fast as I went six years ago, and I was not working as hard as I would on race day (my IF was only 0.637; 0.68 is the target on Oct 13th). Now to cement that feeling in twice more.