“Cheryl, look, there’s a whole pod of dolphins out there!”. Cheryl had brought the binoculars with her, arriving last night (3.5 hours late; another story).
“Where?”
“Out there, directly past the stand-up paddler, by the orange buoys.”
At least 10 sleek sea mammals were cruising around, some just slowly arcing up and down to breathe, others flinging themselves skyward on occasion. They were angling for the heart of the action, just outside the swimmer’s buoy line in Kailua Bay, heading straight for Dig Me Beach. As they swept past the little barge dressed up to look like an island – where they rent jet skis – two slender girls in white bikinis drove their stand-up boards right through the middle of the pod.
Three days ago, coming out of Lava Java, I saw a group of juveniles doing the dolphin jump-and-spin. They seemed to be practicing their moves, throwing down like a bunch of pre-teen hip-hop dancers showing off spineroonees on the asphalt. The games lasted for a good five minutes. These guys were maybe three-four feet long. When they were done, the show was climaxed by a single mature grey dolphin (the younger ones were darker), flying head first up at least ten feet, then slowly doing a full 1080 before landing back – “splat” – on the water.
“Ok, guys, this is how it looks when you’ve got it down. Keep working, you’re getting there!” he seemed to be saying.
Cheryl kept looking up and down the buoy line. She noticed all the swimmers. I pointed out a few who were headed for the final buoy, maybe 300 meters farther down the bay from our condo deck.
“Why would they be swimming the full course so close to the race? That’s not what you would do, is it?”
“Well, actually, two days ago I did do the whole swim. I’m still not confident of my swim, it’s still under construction. So I need the confidence boost. Besides, I didn’t go hard, and swimming doesn’t take that much out of you.”
“But still …” she mused.
“Well, maybe they’re not even in the race. See, there’s probably at least three different types of triathletes here, who aren’t racing on Saturday. There may be at least 5000 triathletes here this week, good ones, and most of us aren’t racing. So most of the people you see swimming, riding, and running probably aren’t in the race.
“First, you’ve got the pilgrims. They are here ’cause Kona on Race Week is Mecca – its the Holy Land, the Founding Place, and, like Muslims, every good triathlete will eventually feel the call to just BE here, to soak it in, and absorb the tradition, the vibe, to become one of the tribe. Maybe they think they’ll never be good enough to get in the race, or maybe they think they’d like to race here one day, but they all are just irresistably drawn like people to Times Square on New Year’s Eve, or Churchill Downs on Derby Day. They want a taste of the Mint Julep.
“Then, there’re those in the racer’s posse – friends, family, who are using the racer as an excuse to come and be part of the scene.
“Finally, there are all the industry folks. This is the Super Bowl of triathlon, and getting your message out here is like paying the $3,000,000 to broadcast an ad. Sponsors, magazine folks, bike makers, everybody wants to be here, and they’ve all got a little story to tell.
“You know, it’s funny. Thinking about it, I realised that those of us who are racing are really, truly at the center of it all. NONE of the other people would be here if it weren’t for us – they are here in the shadow of our glow. That seems a little self-centered, I know, but that’s how I feel this week – it’s all revolving around ME (and about 2000 others), who are the real stars of the show. Everyone wants a little of our magic to rub off.
“It feels kind of good, even for a few days, to be a red carpet star, you know?”