Pizza, Anyone?

Another Ironman has come and gone. Each year, about 1,800 athletes along with their families and fans converge on our town, wear their Speedos on our streets, and sweat all over our grocery carts. Actually, I really like Ironman because it brings excitement and money to Kona each October. I always look forward to the event. And every year I am amazed again that anyone can swim 2.4 miles in open ocean, bike 112 miles in high winds and ridiculous heat, then run a marathon. As my mom likes to say, "I can't even drive that far!"

The more I see of the race the less inspired I am, however. Two seconds after the thrill of crossing the finish line, many runners can be found puking, falling down, shivering, etc. Why do they do it? The race creates an entire city of need in a 17-hour period. Huge circus tents become make shift hospitals with rows of IV's tapped into dehydrated athletes. Mobs of massage therapists, physical therapists, nurses and doctors scurry around like busy ants. It is in this light that I present a photo from this year's Ironman. Not the classic shot of a champion clad in a flag and orchid lei, but one of the empty pizza boxes piling up on the other side of the finish line, consumed by hungry athletes who just burned up an entire month's calories in eight hours.