Read an Excerpt
The Race Within
Passion, Courage, and Sacrifice at the Ultraman Triathlon
By Jim Gourley Triumph Books
Copyright © 2015 Jim Gourley
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-62937-021-7
CHAPTER 1
Wisdom, Like Car Keys
"Even when I'm old and grey, I won't be able to play it, but I'll still love the game."
— Michael Jordan
December 1, 2013. When it was over, the first thing he did was call his mom and kids. Even in defeat, he looked every bit as invincible as he had a year earlier. The crystal blue eyes still had that sparkle. The easy, confident smile hadn't dimmed in the slightest. Lean, bronze, handsome — he looked every bit the sports legend. The only place he wasn't a champion was on paper. And sitting there in his presence, paper didn't seem to count for anything.
This was the journey's end for him. He'd said as much before he started this time. There'd be no comeback, but it was hard to imagine this place without him. It was just as difficult to imagine him without this place. For 11 years he'd raced here. The people who made this happen were like family to him. Like few other things in life, it was obvious that he loved being here. What would it be like for him this time next year, when everyone would be here and he wouldn't? Could he be happy? The look on his face said yes. I had to know. So I asked him straight out: "What's the secret to happiness?"
What he told me sounded like something off one of overpriced daily Zen books on the counter at Starbucks. But it was as genuine as you could get — an absolute truth distilled to its fundamental essence over years in the lava fields of Hawaii. It was so pure and potent that it brought clarity to everything all at once. After thousands of miles and scores of interviews, the answer had been here all along. I could have saved myself the trouble if only I'd started under this picnic shelter beside the parking lot at the end of the world.
And then I realized that, no, that wasn't the case at all. Like your car keys, the truth is always found in the last place you look. It waits for you until you're ready to find it. And invariably you're never ready to look there until you've gone everywhere else first. It wasn't that fate chose this man, in this time and place, to reveal the truth to me. Those thousands of miles and scores of people weren't a search for truth. They were a journey to a place, both literally and figuratively, where I could finally let the truth find me. Maybe that's what it had been for him, too.
Maybe that's what sports are for all of us.
CHAPTER 2
The Parking Lot at the End of the World
"It is not up to me whether I win or lose. Ultimately this might not be my day. And it is that philosophy toward sports, something that I really truly live by. I am emotional. I want to win. I am hungry. I am a competitor. I have that fire. But deep down, I truly enjoy the art of competing so much more than the result."
— Apollo Ohno
November 25, 2012. It doesn't even look like anyone is supposed to be here. Right after you pass the aquatic center and the neatly manicured soccer fields along the Kuakini Highway, there's a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire, a mobile home with graffiti on it being used for some sort of construction business, and some storage sheds with heavy-duty pickup trucks parked in front of them. Keep going straight past the small orange cones warning you not to enter, and the asphalt eventually dissipates into gravel and brush. Turn right and it puts you on Makala Boulevard back to the Queen K Highway. Turn left and it looks like you've found free parking at the end of the world.
A relatively new two-lane swath of asphalt has been laid over the cracked, graying layer sprawling endlessly toward the horizon like a freshly dried flow of pahoehoe over the ancient lava fields. But up ahead on the left is a tiny stretch of black sand beach with neatly spaced palm trees surrounding the covered picnic areas and public showers of the Old Kona Airport State Recreation Area. You'd never find it unless you had come looking for it, and once you get there it's not much to look at. Truth be told, this must be the most unscenic place in all of Hawaii: a discarded manmade construct amid a paradise of natural wonders. But now, in the heat of the afternoon, there are 30 people who are in fact seeking this exact spot. They've spent three days and an extraordinary amount of effort getting here. In their eyes, there's little difference between this site and the pearly gates. Their patron saint is even here waiting on them.
The tables at one of the sheltered picnic sites are filled with giant platters of food, tended by a catering service. People are milling between it and a 20' x 20' canopy tent with speakers underneath blaring a mix of rock and '80s dance beats. Yet on the whole it's a quiet setting. You'd almost mistake it for a family reunion — and more than one person there would tell you that it sort of is — except for the length of AstroTurf flanked by international flags and a metal archway at the end with a giant banner overhead reading Ultraman World Championships.
Here, in the parking lot at the end of the world, one of the most phenomenal athletes on the planet is about to win one of the most extreme endurance competitions ever created. There's no prize money. There's not even a trophy for first place. There are no television cameras. No newspaper reporters. There is no stadium filled with adoring fans. Coming here and competing cost him at least $10,000. After swimming 6.2 miles, cycling 261.4 miles, and running 52.4 miles, he gets a Hawaiian lei and a finisher's plaque that looks exactly the same as the one they'll give to the last-place finisher. Right now, before it all starts, what he's thinking about is making it to that finish line so he can get a hug. The kind only a patron saint can give you.
After seven hours of running through the stifling heat and jarring winds, he makes that last, lonely turn, onto the runway to nowhere. His lean bronze figure glides over the surface of the earth, his feet buoyed by the shimmering convection currents roiling along the ground. Striding confidently across the wide, paved area, Alexandre Ribeiro makes the final push to the finish line. Followed by the two men who have supported his efforts during the last 72 hours, he carries the Brazilian flag through the archway and meets Jane Bockus. She drapes a lei around his neck and then gives him his hug as the crowd cheers.
The legs that had only moments before looked invincible against the length of concrete finally surrender to the pain he's ignored the last three days. His knees begin to wobble and his steps resemble those of a newborn foal. He staggers about the crowd, sharing more hugs and taking photos, then collapses into a lawn chair on the beach right in front of the finish line. His race is over, but there are still 29 people out there struggling. He'll stay and honor as many of them as he can before fatigue overwhelms him. That's how families work.
Ribeiro doesn't have to wait long. Miro Kregar of Slovenia arrives just 13 minutes later, receiving the same finisher's lei and hug from Jane before embracing Ribeiro. The separation is deceptive. Though they started this day at the same time, Ribeiro's cumulative margin of victory is more than an hour. Not that it's all that important. They are both simply elated to be in this place, sharing this experience together.
The third finisher brings all kinds of surprises. It is a woman, Yasuko Miyazaki of Japan. She gets more than just a lei and a hug, though. She and her support crew barely cross the finish line before her boyfriend, Atsusha, suddenly goes to one knee, a small box in his hand. The pair met eight months prior, when Miyazaki put in an online request for a training partner to help her achieve her Ultraman dream by first qualifying at Ultraman United Kingdom and then coming to Hawaii. A cycling enthusiast, Atsusha responded and they soon began riding bikes together. It only took him four months to decide she was the one. He made the silver band inside the box by hand.
She says yes. The crowd cheers. This is Miyazaki's first time running in the Ultraman World Championships, and her cumulative performance will put her third overall. She won Ultraman United Kingdom earlier this year. For a woman who only got into ultra-distance events a year ago, it might be the promising start to a stellar career. But actually this is the swan song. There's a wedding to plan and children to prepare for; she's eager to start a family. After all of the long days and miles spent training, she's going to give it all up. Or maybe it's that she had to come all this way to get what she really wanted.
Juan Craveri and Chris Draper come next, followed by Kevin Becker. Kathy Winkler is the second woman to finish the run, but she's actually ahead of Miyazaki in the overall race standings, and possibly the winner. Her body is in severe caloric debt. She's suffering from extreme cramps and has begun to urinate blood. Only at the finish line does she finally let the tears come forth. Kathy's written a huge check in an attempt to buy herself a 34-minute lead over the woman chasing her. It's pushed her body into overdraft. But if she's beaten that margin, she'll be the new Ultraman Women's World Champion.
The other woman comes into view just six minutes later. Accompanied by her father on one side and her husband of only a few months on the other, Amber Monforte crosses the line to meet Jane and the others. As much torture as Kathy has put herself through, Amber appears more battered. A better cyclist than a runner, Amber knew that preventing Kathy from opening up too large a gap would take her beyond her limits. Her gait has been reduced to a shuffle by shin splints. It's a familiar place for the two-time defending Ultraman women's world champion and course record holder. Her previous victories challenged her to overcome injury and some of the fiercest competition ever seen in the event's history. This time, the exertion has taken her beyond a point she didn't know existed. She'll remember this race as the most painful, and for that reason it may be her last. Yet there are other memories that will make the pain all worthwhile. The trip has helped Amber and her father, David, reconnect and even add new bonds to their relationship. It's also the beginning of her honeymoon with Ryan. Maybe that will be encouragement enough to do this again. Or, like Miyazaki, maybe this race will be a turning point. This isn't the only ultra race in the world, after all. And Hawaii isn't the only exotic land to explore. Yet there's something special about it, something that draws you back. Only time will tell if its magnetism will work its magic on her again.
More familiar faces arrive. Three minutes behind Amber, Gary Wang finishes his 12th Ultraman, tying for third-most finishes in the race's history books. For Peter Mueller behind him it's finish number six. Tony O'Keefe completes his fifth race behind them. Though his run is almost 90 minutes slower than Ribeiro, O'Keefe's cycling performance from the previous two days was fast enough for him to finish fourth overall. Maybe this shouldn't be a surprise, considering O'Keefe finished fourth place in the 2010 Race Across America, a nonstop bicycle race from California to Maryland. Or maybe it's one of the biggest surprises of the entire event. He was hit by a car while riding his bike the previous year. After he went through the car's windshield, the gearshift drove through his leg close to the knee. Considering this, his comeback is nothing short of miraculous. His meeting with his wife, support crew, and Jane at the finish line is a doubly profound celebration of living life on the edge and coming back from the brink of death.
Mark Ford and Roberto Parseghian arrive next. Then Joni Moore and Alan Macpherson. Eleven others come in to round out the official finishers. Every name carries with it an incredible story. Just as incredible, three others cross the finish line and receive a "DNF" — did not finish — for the race. Trung Lively, Suzy Degazon, and Amy Palmeiro-Winters all met with some misfortune in the previous two days and failed to make the finish line before the cutoff. They knew even before they took their first steps this morning that their run would not change that classification. But they are here to experience, not conquer. For them, today is just a great opportunity to go for a long run and maybe learn something about themselves. They don't run to win or finish. They run because they love to run.
Suzy bounds down the runway looking like a girl playing hopscotch. She's so carefree that it almost fools you into thinking she's the champion. In a way, she is. She's competed in the race 15 times and scored official finishes in 12 of them, tying for third with Gary Wang on the all-time finishers list. She beams as she crosses the line with her family, moving toward Jane. Suzy began the weekend crying as she started the swim on the first day. Now she's all smiles, as bittersweet tears streak faces among those at the finish line. Suzy and many of the people here knew what this one meant to her before she even began. At 48, it's not so much age catching up with her as it is injuries. After 15 years, this is Suzy's last Ultraman.
For continuing onward, Suzy, Trung and Amy will receive a participant's plaque, acknowledging that they stuck with it even when things didn't go their way. Five other athletes are not so lucky. Josef Ajram of Spain was heading for an official finish this morning when a leg injury simply became too painful, forcing him to stop entirely. Not all of the other non-finishers are injured. Stephen Johnson did not feel well enough to continue after the swim on the first day. Instead of continuing around the course for an unofficial finish, he decided to abandon his race effort completely and spend the trip as a vacation with his children. For a man who has finished the Deca Ironman — an event in which people run 10 consecutive Ironman races in as many days — there isn't as much pressure to show he's tough enough to keep going. Some people march to the beat of a different drummer. Johnson marches to accordions, or talk radio, or whatever else he hasn't marched to yet. His finish lines aren't found on maps.
The hours go by and the arrivals come less frequently. The athletes surrender to their hunger and the allure of the catered meal under the picnic shelter on the beach just a few yards from the finish line. They eat slowly. Exhaustion diminishes their stomachs' tolerance and their sense of hunger is dulled by its relative constancy over the last few days. They don't gorge like survivors rescued from a deserted island, but this obscures the massive amounts they consume. They graze constantly throughout the rest of the afternoon. Their metabolisms are working at such a high rate that they will most likely lose two pounds during the night as they sleep. Once their hunger is sated for the time being, they amble to the next picnic shelter, where volunteer massage therapists have set up for the last time. The athletes strip down as much as possible on the beach, get on the tables, and receive much-needed treatment.
Floodlights on the finish line arch turn on as the sun sets. Trung Lively is the last one home, crossing the line just before the 12-hour cutoff. His wife, Consuela, joined him for the final 10 miles. She spent most of the weekend by Jane's side, watching how the event is put on so that she and Trung can organize the new Ultraman race in Florida next year. She asked Jane if she could go in the waning hours. "Something doesn't feel right," she said. "I can't explain it, but Trung needs me." When she reached him, he was thinking about quitting. They cross the line together.
The celebration goes on for a while afterward. The last of the finishers congratulate each other and give the thanks to their crews that they haven't been able to express in the last few days. But eventually the food is gone and the hours take their final toll on weary organizers, athletes, and spectators alike. By 8:00 volunteers begin pulling down the tents and the archway. The lights and sound system go down. Water coolers are rinsed out and stacked. In short order, it's all packed into a single moving truck. The truck's back door comes down with a deafening thud and suddenly all the magic disappears. What's left is the feeling that something was here, and now there's a vacuum that can't be filled. There are no bleachers or souvenir stands. You can't even hear the waves washing up on the beach. It's just nighttime at the parking lot at the end of the world.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Race Within by Jim Gourley. Copyright © 2015 Jim Gourley. Excerpted by permission of Triumph Books.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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