I recently discovered that I am a bit of a Quantified Self guy. I have also long been fascinated with what it takes to qualify for Kona. I come from a massive athletic background and had the perfect build up for Ironman racing as a kid (not that I even knew of Ironman racing until I was around 17). All these things count in my favor to qualify for Kona. So often I hear of guys who spent 6 years racing 18 Ironman’s to qualify and it breaks me a little inside when I hear their stories, especially those who have yet to qualify. Recently, Endurance Corner have started running a series on what it takes to qualify for Kona. This post is about the realists view on qualifying. It makes for fascinating reading.

by Alan Couzens, MS (Sports Science)

Last week I talked about the different improvement curves that I’ve observed for different types of athletes. I identified three basic athlete types: the natural, the realist and the worker.

As part of our new “How to Qualify for Kona” section that recently kicked off, I’m going to put some of those observations into the context of what it means to different types of athletes looking to qualify for Kona.

In a previous article for the Training Peaks site I conveyed some of the typical chronic training load ranges that I tend to see for athletes of different types and ability levels. The table from that article is reproduced below.

The times that qualify an athlete for Kona are getting faster by the year. The 2010 ranges for flat (Florida, Arizona, Brazil) and hilly courses (Lake Placid, CdA, St. George) for differing age-groups and genders is shown below.

So, comparing the two tables, if you’re a young(ish) male, you’ll likely need the fitness level represented by a VO2max/VO2 score of 60-67ml/kg/min* corresponding to a Chronic Training Load somewhere in the 75-150 TSS/d range. If you’re a young(ish) female, you’ll need the fitness level represented by a VO2max/score of 57-60 ml/kg/min* corresponding to a CTL somewhere in the 70-130 range.

*I am using VO2max here as a general indicator of fitness here, but in reality the components of ironman fitness necessary to qualify are more complex and multi-faceted. I elaborate on some of these factors here.

As I conceded in the training load piece, these are some pretty big ranges! In hours per week terms, we could be talking about an average training week as low as 10 hours or as high as 25 hours per week! This is where last week’s article on different athlete types comes in. There will be a fortunate 15% who can sign up for one of those “Get to Kona on 10 hours a week” plans and actually get to Kona on 10 hours a week! If you’re one of those athletes, you can close your browser; this piece isn’t for you. But for the vast majority of us, Kona level fitness is going to be take more – a lot more! If we convert these CTL numbers to hours: a chronic load of 18-20 hours week of easy-steady training for five or more months prior to the event.

Think about this, two-and-a-half to three hours a day of training, eight to 10 hours of work/commute, eight to 10 hours of (necessary) sleep, eating, bathing, etc., is going to lead to five or more months of very structured living and not doing much else. It is no coincidence that those who qualify typically have atypical work or family situations. Kona qualifiers have different fitness levels to the rest of us generally because they have different lives to the rest of us.

According to VO2max data from the Cooper institute, Kona qualifiers are in the top 0.5%-.0025% of the population when it comes to fitness. In other words, if you’re a young (college age guy) and we randomly sampled 200 folks from your dorm, you would consistently be the fittest. Taking this a little further, if you’re a 40-something guy living in a pretty good-sized town of 40,000 people, you’re the fittest guy in town! This kind of stat doesn’t happen without living a little differently to those 39,999 folks who have more “normal” fitness.

Faced with such stats, it is tempting to pull the genetics card, but based on what I’ve seen, genetics isn’t the limiter, at least when it comes to getting to Kona level fitness. The vast majority of folks respond to training load quite similarly and most of us have the potential to reach a very high level of fitness. As I suggested in the previous article on athletic types, for 70% of folks, if they do the work, Kona is within reach but setting up your life to do the work is another matter and for many it is far easier to attribute the limiter to genetics than to make the required change.

Merely setting up your life to have the space to fit in five months’ worth of 18 to 20 hour weeks of training in your Kona build isn’t enough. The realist knows that even with the life space to fit the training and sufficient attention given to recovery, you can’t just get up off the couch and throw down one 18 to 20 hour training week after another. You also need a fitness “base” to pull this off. So you’ll want to factor in a period of preparatory “training to train” weeks, progressively building up the fitness to tolerate the back to back big weeks that will comprise your Kona build.

Based on my experience, most folks coming in from normal active fitness levels are going to need to both be generally fresh and healthy (that is, come into the hard training unloaded), and have a base fitness of five to six months of preparatory training in the 12 to 15 hour range to tolerate those 18 to 20 hour weeks of your “get to Kona” push. If you’re coming from below normal fitness (less than 45 VO2) you’ll probably need another five to six months of preparatory “get in shape” work before even beginning the “train to train” period.

Additionally, we both know that your chances of putting together 20 or more back to back weeks in the 18 to 20 hour range without recovery isn’t good. You’re going to get tired and need some recovery weeks sprinkled in to your Kona build. In fact, if you manage a ratio of 3:1 loading to recovery weeks in the context of a 9-5 job and family life without getting sick or injured you’ll be doing very well! So that five months of specific training, more realistically becomes six or seven months.

Adding it all up, the realist should be planning for:

Six to 12 months of uninterrupted, consistent “basic training” to get ready to train for the event.
Six to seven months of focused “specific training” directed specifically towards your (first) Kona push.

This is harder than it sounds.

Think about how many ways life can get in the way over a 12 to 18 month period…

You start a new job/your work commitments increase beyond the 9-5.
You start a relationship/end a relationship/have relationship issues
Your family commitments increase
You get sick/a family member gets sick.
You get injured.
You move
You go on vacation
You race too frequently (and have too much time for each devoted to taper and recovery)
You/your significant other plans a home improvement project!

It only takes two weeks of disrupted training (or disrupted recovery) to lose a significant amount of fitness. Any of the above could lead to that. Any more than one of these interruptions over the course of a six month period and maintaining fitness will be a best case scenario. The realist doesn’t fight this, is aware of a certain level of unpredictability in life and is committed to “as long as it takes.”

That said, the realist is also going to be inherently aware of the consequences of inconsistency and is going to control the controllable and whatever they can to avoid the above and put together at least a couple of relatively uninterrupted seasons where their training load is limited by their level of fitness not by life circumstance. Gordo wrote about some of the proactive ways to enhance life stability in the intro article to the “How to Qualify” section.

Also, the realist is going to realize that there are no guarantees. While a VO2max of 60-67, a threshold of 85% and metabolic fitness of 4-5kcal/fat/min are all likely going to be necessary to qualify, they are not in themselves sufficient. You need both the fitness and a good day on an appropriate course to pull it off. In other words, you may need to put together more than one of these builds before high fitness and a good day coincide!

In my way of thinking, it is the combination of these factors (physiological, life and race) necessary for ironman success that make up the beauty of ironman racing. We’ll go into some of these additional factors that maximize your chances of qualifying in coming articles.

Until then…

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I wanted to write this a little differently, as a day worth of reflection still has me a little dazed as to the challenge that was out there on the day. Yes, sitting at the awards banquet last night I was happy, and I still am, but there was a moment of thought that went to what could have been. I am very happy with my result, how my body went and what I went through on the day.

As the experience is so personal, I thought to write this as a point of view, almost through my eyes and hopefully I’ll be able to take you with me on an amazing journey for the next 10 minutes or so that lead to the moment you see there in the photo.

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Beep beep beep! 4am alarms are never subtle and this was so different. Ok. Get up. Get food in and get the body going. Breakfast at 4am is never quite what it is at 9am. Force it down, you’ll need it later.

Coffee, brush teeth and into the car. Nice tune. Going to be a great day, can just feel it. Legs feel amazing; have felt so good all week. Time to cash in some cheques.

I have to pump tires, get nutrition onto the bike and get my special needs bags in, get body marked, swim bag in, toilet and quiet time in the next 60 minutes. Plenty time. It’s all going smoothly until the mechanic drops my valve extender into the wheel. Shouldn’t make a noise once going 40km/h, I think.

Bang! Pro’s are off, 6:30. Time to get into the water for a quick warm-up and then wait for the start. 1800 people in a squashed area with 15 minutes to go, feet and arms everywhere. People starting to panic with claustrophobia. The noises are not great. 10 minutes to go. Breathe. BOOOOOOM! I get a great start and find some nice hips to sit on. Into the front pack I go, the arms are feeling great. All the extra swimming was worth it. High elbows, breathe. Focus. I move to the back of the pack and find some feet. It feels great and the pace is easy. This is going so well.

Around the halfway and all is well. Group is sticking together. Nice. Pack slows a little and I look up to see a split as someone just ahead of me has swum skew. Oh well. Let them go, no point chasing. 500m to go and I work my way to the front of the pack so get a clear run up transition. Woop! 20th out the water I hear. Perfect.

Helmet, nutrition, glasses and go go go! Onto the bike, press start on the Garmin. Click. Legs feel golden. Up Kuakini highway to the first turn around and I feel great. Making up 2 or 3 places by the time we hit Palani and I just spin up, will catch the big bladders on the Queen K. Body is feeling amazing, just hold back. We are about 20 riding together and I am sitting near the front, about 3rd or 4th wheel, just cruising. 20, 30, 40km go by smoothly. Waikoloa comes quickly this time, despite the headwind. 38km/h is about right; the pack is riding so nice. All the contenders are here. The Katana is sweet and running like a dream.

Turn left, then right to Hawi and here is the wind. Cruising up, feeling good. Gusts are heavy, hold the wheel. I get blown across the road, almost two lanes and have to hit the brakes hard to avoid going off the road. Red card. Blocking, apparently. I say something. Not smart. 4 minutes becomes 6 and I am off. Pack gone. Don’t chase, you’ll catch them later, your run has been golden of late. Just be patient.

Special needs, must get my calories. They can’t find my bag. I press stop on the Garmin. 3 minutes later, I am off, without calories. No bag. It happens. Find your tempo and watch the wind, which is now gusting at 90km/h side on. Garmin says I am cruising at 60km/h down here. Woo hoo! The wind is howling, making riding in the aerobars virtually impossible. It’s not ideal and I can feel the body tense up. At 115km I for the first time in ages hit a real low. I decide its time to push through. It’ll go away, in 10km or so. I know my body; this is just how it goes. 125 become 135 and I am still in a dark hole somewhere avoiding thought of the past or the future. Just hold this moment right here. Yes, it hurts. No, its not particularly fun. Yes, it will pass. It’s stupid hot now. So hot it almost takes my breath away. 145km. Come on body, come back…. Please. Doubt, fear, looking at myself and realizing there is only one way out of this and that is to keep going. Headwind is not helping and I am continuously being dropped by single riders coming by. Motivation, please come back.

155km and all are good again. Something clicks. Checking splits, I know I can make it under 5 hours, ex penalties and lost bags. Awesome, considering how bad that patch was. All those hours spent, 100% worth it in that moment. Bag me and tag me and ship me off. Wait; still have a marathon to run with a pair of legs that want to run. Let’s do this…

Struggling with the socks in T2, on wet feet and an endurance athletic haze. That plugged into the wall feeling. Awesome. This is it, where it all happens. Let’s do this. I know I can run way under 3:10 if I just hold back on Alii drive. The Eutopia’s are awesome. I hear someone in T2 say its 126 degrees outside. Makes total sense, considering what I felt out there.

Water, ice, coke. Repeat. Focus. Form. Hold back. Whatever you do, just hold back till 21km. Bladder bursting, stop for the official world record pee at 3 miles. Now that feels better than I expected. Let’s get back into this and crush it. Heart rate is 150, running 4:10 per km. Legs feel amazing. Aid stations going perfectly. Wow, already at the old church. Turn around and head back. Good job! So thirsty.

The way back is easy and feels great. Easy now, control. Hold back. Slow it down to 4:20 per km so you can smash the Queen K, I tell myself.

Walk/jog up Palani, quick, little feet. Up onto the highway and let’s do this downhill thing. At 18km my stomach drops and I am searching for good news, but it’s nowhere to be found. It’s not a cramp, this is serious. You are in white shorts Raoul, there is no hiding anything. Toilet stop. Stomach explodes. Its ok, won’t happen again. Get back out and onto pace. Cramps. Shit. Nausea. This is not good.

Toilet stop, holding back nausea. Run. Repeat.

Energy Lab. It’s hot hot hot. Cramps are excruciating. Feeling dizzy. Come on! Just one foot in front of the other. It’s becoming an aid station to aid station run with slow walking through the aid stations. Out the lab and back to town. You can do this. Come on.

Toilet stop.

Run. Feeling better. Back to 4:30 per km between aid stations, but the aid stations are slow and I let the cramps go. The acoustics coming out my rear are awful and all I can offer is apologies to other athletes. 2 more hills Raoul, you are running well, despite the odds. Let’s finish this.

One more hill. Come on. Hold it together. The pain will stop when you hit the line.

Really now? What the hell is this? How are my toes so freaking sore all of a sudden? Walking down the fun downhill? Really? It makes me smile. I high five some people. They think I am crazy to be walking, but I cannot explain how sore my big toes are. Damn wet socks. 1 mile to go. The pain is unreal until I hit 200m to go. This time, I am not going to care about the extra minutes. I high five people, cheer with the crowd. Hug a fellow competitor. I walk when I get to the carpet.

There is no finish line. Just an ellipsis for a release before life continues. I close my eyes, raise my hands and breathe. It’s quiet, there is no noise and I cannot hear people or music. The moment feels like forever, but it’s maybe a second. Release. No pain, no feeling, no tears this time. It’s a beautiful, simple moment. Just a pause, but it’s earned.

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Kona is amazing, the place that inspires beyond what can be explained. I am epically grateful for the opportunity to compete here. Thank you to all the kind people who support me, send me messages and wishes of going well. I believe I had the form. That will come in another post. For now, times don’t matter and this is all about the moment.

This is the place where mistakes are magnified, but where pushing through collectively rewards greater on an emotional scale than any other race. I could analyze about penalties, better stomachs and what could have been, but really, I have no regrets.

I hope you enjoyed that. I could never give it the full meaning. That is why I write, because I hope to inspire you to try this out. To live it through your eyes. Thank you for listening.

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5pm. Night before the race. This kit has been a nightmare to get made and its still not 100% what I ordered (was supposed to be all white, no black on the top) but it’s done with the people who made this possible. Puma, Gamin, Fairbairn Private Bank & New Media Labs. The kit went from California to Colorado, to Hawaii and then got lost, so we had to send for new kit this week to Honolulu to get branded and here, so I had to go without the all white as this was all that was on hand. Not perfect, but its amazing nonetheless. I am using the quad compressors as well, for something different and for extra sun protection on the legs.

Time for dinner, then to bed… tomorrow night I`ll be able to show you the entire day via Garmin Connect, apart from the swim. Contrary to what so many athletes do, I hate having cumulative time during the day as it distracts from being in the moment, so I am racing with my Edge 705 on the bike and running with the Forerunner 310XT separately. Weather looks good, around 30-35 degrees out there, with winds to keep it interesting. 30-40km/h gusts down from Hawi to Waikoloa.

Typical weather for the Ironman.

Remember, this is why we are out there…

Failure is not going to get into my head. Here is the bit you are going to love:

I cannot fail, because I am only going out there to race myself. I cannot lose or come second, because I am going to go out there and DEMAND everything from myself, because I owe it to myself. That is why I cannot fail. Once you learn this, one of the biggest lessons in life, you too will drop from watching the others, racing the others and you will too learn that the greatest competitor you will EVER face, is yourself.

I am going halfway across the globe to put myself in the toughest conditions ever, to race myself in the place that brings out the deepest, darkest moments to the very front of your mind like a sledgehammer beating on your forehead, because I want to know what it’s like to look myself in the eye and wipe away every morsel of doubt, every fear I have ever had and smash through it. I want to run through the pain and into pure release, glory personified with a blank stare running back to Alii Drive where that finishline will not define me, where it will be an Ellipsis before my simple life carries on.

I am going to go and smash my second place into a million pieces so that there is only a 1st place left for me. There may be 1800 competitors out there in Kona on raceday, but I am racing only 1 of them…

So when you ask me what my goals are, when you ask me if I am ready, if I am scared, the answers are here for all to see. Now watch that video again, go find yourself in the moment and race yourself, completely in your own world, where nobody is visible but the barrier that is stopping you from becoming the absolute best version of yourself.

Bring. It. On. For every one of us tomorrow. Bring. It. On.

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We all know I am sponsored by Rockets Compression and that in the past, I have used a compression sock for Ironman runs. There is a bit of a story to how I got there. I blistered horribly in my first Ironman. I was told to find a set of double layered socks. I found a set, they were amazing and they were compression, knee high socks too. So despite feeling like a tool, I used them in races. Since then, I have found even better socks from X-Bionic and will be going back to running without them. I am completely behind the idea of compression for recovery, but as of yet not convinced they make a difference in the race beyond the looking like a tool part.

I am also not huge on the idea of seeing people walk around in compression socks and shorts all week before the race. As much as I love triathletes, they have some funny fashion habits. Compression everywhere on race week is a highlight and I have yet to see the difference.

Last night I came across what Terenzo Bozzone has dubbed the official rules of Compression Socks. Quite entertaining and quite right, methinks.

Here follows the progression of the self conversation. Enjoy…

A pearl of wisdom. Race with one sock yo, so we know you have a weakness and can lean on it…

Sneaky triathletes, don’t use this excuse.

There we go. If you have to, don the Speedo and crocs and compression sokkies and enjoy.

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Wow. There is no way this is an official race report. Still have to get through my mind in the next few days to make sure I grasp all the events that unfolded on an amazing day. The overall elation though, could best be described in this finishers photo…

9H11min later, this was what was left. I had walked down that finish line, tears and high fives, screaming out of pure joy, left only with the face you see there. I was 2nd South African overall, beating all but 9 professionals. 12th overall is better than I expected and I was on course for top 10 at one point, but faltered late in the run, a sure sign of too much mountainbiking and not enough long runs this year. Still, no problems…

There is a great song which comes to mind right now:

Just something about that song which reflects what I was possibly feeling out there.

Expect a full report soon. Seems I am off to Hawaii again for the month of October.

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There is always this period when I get back into training that I can feel the muscles are now starting to respond after being off for a bit (injury, Ironman
, motivation are all reasons for time off). There is a difference in the power of the contractions, a little more spring in my daily step as I trot off to the shops around lunchtime to find something carnivorous to devour. (more…)

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Nikola Tosic is a good mate of mine and he was one of the people who got me to get Urban Ninja going. I did a race report on Hawaii for him, you can read it by clicking the link…

Click…

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