Oli Fischer's Hawaii Diary

Monday, 5 days before the race

After 36 hours of travelling - we had to make a night stop in Los Angeles - we finally land. It takes about 36 seconds after stepping off the plane before the first bead of sweat runs down my forehead. Aloha and welcome to Kona!

By the time all the bags are off the belt and I have collected the hire car - a van only just covers our space requirements - and loaded all six bags, the bike and the surfboard, the amount of sweat has long since overwhelmed the absorbency of my shirt and my underwear. Right now I honestly cannot say what is getting to me more: the lack of sleep combined with the jet lag, or the heat combined with the humidity!? Sometimes you reach your limits without doing an Ironman at all.

On the way to the house we drive along the HI-19, Queen Ka‘ahumanu Highway, past the Energy Lab, and already we count three dozen athletes on their bikes, and running too. One of them is mending a puncture at the edge of the black lava fields that line the entire highway. As far as the eye can see. Welcome to Kona!

Our home for a week is soon reached. It is a rented house about 3 km from the bustle of downtown, on slightly raised ground with a view of the Pacific, in a kind of housing development. Plenty of room, a kitchen of our own and a private pool are good conditions for taking the edge off the pre-race stress. In the garage I open the box and lift out my bike and the wheels. Everything is undamaged! Three square metres of polystyrene sheeting, four square metres of bubble wrap, around 100 m of tape, 9 FRAGILE stickers and 7 hours of work had exactly the protective effect I had hoped for. A damaged bike would have been too big a handicap. (Specialized may have just brought out the new S-WORKS Shiv Disc, but 14 grand is too much money for a new bike at the moment.) Three weeks in Hawaii for the three of us is expensive enough as it is.

As the sun goes down I run a few laps around our neighbourhood. The light and the colours in Hawaii are special and very intense. I had completely forgotten that. Eva always calls Hawaii our real home, because it feels as though we were here in another life, and our souls let us feel it. We have arrived.

Tuesday, 4 days before the race

I have been awake since 02:54. Jet lag. I pass the time unpacking. When I make another attempt at sleeping at 05:00, my daughter comes into the room: Papiiiii? Guguuuseliiiii? I play dead, otherwise sleep is definitely off the cards. Eva takes her back to her room and they both drop off again shortly afterwards. Lucky them. Not me.

I decide to get in the car at six and drive to the Aquatic Center, which opens at 06:15. I am bound to be one of the first. Think again! The 50 x 25 m pool is packed. I could have worked that out for myself, because on the way there I had already passed dozens of athletes out on their bikes or running. I find a spot in one of the few lanes not taken up by a coach and his athletes and get my session done. Back at the house, after breakfast under the palm trees with my family, I finish putting my bike together, and then we drive into Kona to register. What a circus! The streets, above all Alii Drive, are lined with sweat-soaked athletes and passers-by with shaved legs. Everywhere you look there is the IRONMAN logo or that of some triathlon brand or other. The atmosphere is joyful and tense at the same time.

The Ironman Village has only just opened, some of the stands are still being put up. The crowds are still manageable and we can browse in peace. By the end Eva and I have enriched the triathlon community by a few hundred dollars, and ourselves by a few T-shirts and caps. Registration is superbly professional. I have to sign five forms with waivers and other declarations before I am handed my race number and my chip. The whole procedure takes a quarter of an hour, in the King Kamehameha Hotel right next to Saturday's start.

After a big shop at Safeway (Eva and Mara found it far more entertaining than I did) I go out for another spin on the bike, out towards the airport. It is afternoon, and the temperature and wind conditions are probably about as tough as they get, right now. Within minutes my kit is soaked through, but with the wind of riding the heat is not all that bad. The wind is more of a nuisance. As a lightweight I sometimes feel like a leaf in the breeze, but I am getting used to it a little. You simply have to steer the whole time. It gets genuinely difficult when you are lying on the bars and reach for the bottle to drink. The trucks that pass a few metres away have more of an effect than the wind itself. At least that is one factor I will not have on Saturday. The bike, incidentally, works flawlessly. Spaghetti and off to bed, dead tired at 19:47.

Wednesday, 3 days before the race

At last I have managed more than six hours of sleep again, for the first time in five days! Today we take it gently, a morning at Magic Sands Beach. I watch the surfers with a certain wistfulness, but I can hold out for another four days. I jog back from the beach to the house. This is Alii Drive, where the first 10 km of the run take place. And once again dozens of runners and cyclists out on the course! Some sponsors have set up stands where you can grab a cup; at the Gatorade stand I stop briefly and look for a bit of shade to drink in. And that is when I spot, through a half-open garden gate, a man with a moustache in front of a microphone - Lionel Sanders is giving a sponsor interview!

In the afternoon I have to head into the bustle of Kona once more, for the German race briefing. It is given in English by the race director and translated into German by a Frenchman who, when it comes to the drafting rules, keeps saying “the overtaking rider” when he means the rider being overtaken... Not quite so professional for once, the WTC. After a good hour it is done.

In the evening I do another sunset run session, and then, after a dip in the pool, enjoy a proper barbecue with the family. Hawaii is paradise!

Thursday, 2 days before the race

Today is the big one. It starts with breakfast under an orange sky at sunrise. Half past seven is the start of the Underpants Run, a charity event in aid of the local population, where the point is to jog two and a half kilometres through Kona wearing as little as possible. A one-of-a-kind parade that takes some of the tension out of the days before the race. At the Rudy Project stand they are throwing T-shirts and visors into the crowd. The mood is like a concert. Much better than at Tuesday's Parade of Nations, which in places (read: among the Germans) descended into a package-holiday booze-up.

Just after eight Eva and I get into the water at the little beach by the pier and swim out to the coffee boat, which is anchored a few hundred metres offshore and hands out coffee and sports drinks to visitors. Swimming here is not easy. Depending on whether you happen to be on the crest of a wave or down in a trough, you can see the buoys you are meant to swim along, or you cannot. The salty taste, on the other hand, does not bother me, and the temperature is perfect. It is 1.9 km straight out and then back again - my word, that is a long way!

At midday we drive to Hapuna Beach, a wonderful beach 50 km to the north. On the way I show Eva where she can stand at the entrance to the Energy Lab on Saturday to cheer me on. Although firing me up will hardly be necessary - it will be hot enough as it is. After a few restful hours on the beach I ride the last 20 km on the bike, and then go for a run in the Energy Lab. The time of day should be about right, assuming everything goes to plan on Saturday.

The HI-19 is very undulating; shallow climbs of five or six per cent in places and up to three kilometres long alternate with descents to match. The heat is bearable with the wind of riding, but the bottle is empty after half an hour.

The run section from the HI-19 to the Energy Lab and back is shorter than I thought. The problem is that it rises slightly on the way back and the wind is behind you. The latter reduces the cooling effect of sweating to precisely nothing. On top of that, this is kilometre thirty, where the man with the hammer does his mischief! We shall see on Saturday whether I can give him the slip...

Day 1: Friday, the day before the race

There is not much to tell, I have spent the day at the house. In the morning I took the time to write up the last few days in this blog. In between I have already received plenty of good wishes for tomorrow. (Incredible how late some people in Switzerland stay up!) Some of them touched me a great deal. Thank you very much! Mahalo!

While I am on the subject of thanks: over the past few days Eva has made sure that my run-up to the race has been largely stress-free. And I have never been as relaxed before an Ironman as I am today - above all thanks to her! Only now and then does a surge of nerves come up, when pumping up the tyres, say, or filling the bottles. But really only faintly. Otherwise I am enjoying the final preparations; certainly more than the carbo-loading that has been keeping me company from early morning to late evening today. At 15:30 we drive into Kona to check in my bike and my transition bags. Once again I am impressed by the organiser's professionalism: no queuing, no discussions. Throughout the process every athlete is accompanied by one of the many helpers, indeed guided through the transition area. Probably to prevent theft as well. There is something like 25 million dollars' worth of kit standing around in transition. The sheer quantity of carbon in this small space is impressive. I make a quick mental note of where my bike is standing, where my transition bags are hanging and where I have to run, and take a few photos. And with that, today is more or less over. Shave my legs, eat spaghetti, play with Mara (far too briefly, sadly) and off to bed. I am ready. I have everything I need: a bike that works, a pair of running shoes, a healthy body, an idea in my head, love in my heart and a dream in my soul. And tomorrow it comes true!