The weatherman doesn’t, that’s for sure.
Or maybe, he does. I went to the National Weather Service site after I got home from my short one hour ride today, just to see if they had any insight into what I experienced. Turns out, they were close, close enough for government work, I guess.
I started the ride at about mile post 85, at the northern end of the phantom donkey crossing zone (how can donkeys be hiding in a lava field with no vegetation?) There, the wind was blowing hard at my back, and the road angles downhill, so I was tooling along at 28-30 mph. The problem with a wind like that, of course, is that I have to ride back through it – uphill – at the end of the trip. But when doing an Ironman, it’s best not to think too much about the future, it will only depress you. For example, who wants to think about running a MARATHON when you are only 40 miles into a 112 mile bike ride? No, the best thing to do is, every now and then, when you get passed by a faster biker (or vice versa), say something like, “Remember the swim?” That usually gets a chuckle, or sometimes a blank stare, like they really DON’T remember the swim.
So I’m riding like the wind, or more precisely with the wind, when all of a sudden, about MP 80, it shifts into my face. This is down in the flat area of the course, the one with NO vegetation of any kind except for little tufts of grass which only grow because the highway channels what little rain that falls off to its edges, allowing a few straggly blades to sprout. Or maybe they are the only things which can survive the zephyrs. I’m blown down to a crawl – 13-15 mph on the flats.
Just at this spot, a little Vespa-type motor scooter zooms by on the shoulder. About 30 feet behind him is a lean cyclist, struggling to keep up. His outfit has “Argentina” stenciled over the butt, and he’s really moving in the head wind, so I figure it must be Eduardo Sturla, 10th here last year, and multiple winner at Ironman Brazil. He realises he’s losing the Vespa, so he stands out of the saddle, and cranks up as close as he can to draft behind his pacer. Cheater!
Luckily, my plan is only for a ride to MP 76, the entrance to Waikoloa resort, so I won’t have to fight this wind forever. And I will get to sail it home, for while at least. Turning around, I get whipped back up to nearly 30 mph. The most marvelous thing about this is, I FEEL NO WIND ON MY FACE! Think about it – at 30 miles an hour, I should be facing a very stiff breeze if the air is still; no wind means its blowing from behind me at just about 30, and I am literally riding as fast as the wind. Yikes!
After 3 or 4 miles, at MP 80, the wind abruptly reverses, coming back into my face full force. I sit up for a moment, take a drink, and marvel at the change, holding up my left hand while rotating my forearm to represent the shift. At this precise moment, a rider all in white goes by, says, “Hi!”, and rolls off up ahead. How he’s doing it, I can’t fathom.
Apparently, neither can he, because he starts to slow down. I gradually gain on him, and realise that he must have been drafting behind me for a while, got out ahead, realised to his horror that it was now seriously breezy, and let me come back to him for protection.
We spend the rest of the ride chatting, about the wind, the course, the race, anything to forget the wind we are facing. Turns out he’s German, 50-54 AG, and qualified, as I did, at IM Arizona. That makes him Raimond Gallis, 3rd in that AG. He jokes about trying to catch Joe Bonness here in Kona. That will be kind of hard, as Joe was about 55 minutes faster than Raimond in AZ, biking 4:43 to the German’s 4:59 (for comparison, I went 5:29). Raimond is a stocky guy, who swam 58 minutes (I did 68), but ran 4:12 to my 4:05.
Anyway, we wished each other well, and he went on down the road when I arrived back at my car. Second guy from IM AZ I’ve seen here so far.
Back home, I checked the NWS web site for their predictions for the day at Waikoloa. They note 22 mph winds from the west, with gusts to 30. Six miles up the road, at Kawaihae, the wind is 15 mph, gusts to 22, but from the EAST. So they had the speed just about right, and they had the wind shift programmed in, but somewhat to the north. Maybe they’ll be reliable predictors for race day?
All I know is, riding for an hour into a 25 mph head wind is enough to ruin one’s day, and drop my speed considerably. And, unlike heat or hills, which one can actually train for, and be somewhat prepared to deal with, wind is totally outside my control and ability to counter. That, and the sun. The NWS shows temps of 91, with heat index of 97, for the same spot while I was there. My car thermometer read 93, with more like 84-88 in town. And remember, the road and the countryside are all deep black, absorbing and then radiating back all that heat. Finally, this spot sits at the base of the saddle between the volcanoes, so there are no clouds rolling down to hide the sun, unlike back in town, where the marathon is run.
So I’m going back there tomorrow for my last long (3 hour) ride before the race. I’m going to re-trace the spots which give me the most grief: the rollers out of Kawaihae before the Hawi hill, and the stretch around Waikoloa, where the wind and the heat is worst.
Back in town, I hit up Lava Java for my afternoon Chai tea latte. Plopped down in front of me, under the umbrella facing the ocean view, sits a family – mom, teen-age son, and and young women with “Santa Barbara Triathlon” T shirt – speaking perfectly accented Spanish (meaning European), and American English (at least the young people).
They look familiar, so I say, Hi, and remember that, at the IM AZ awards banquet, Cheryl and I sat next to them. The girl was 21, the winner of the 18-24 AG, Tatiana Veritz, who went 10:31. I told her she could reasonably consider going pro if she wanted to, and she allowed that was her ambition. I wished her well in the race. IM AZ link #3. Why am I not meeting anyone from any other IMs?