The first thing I noticed on arrival at Tokushima airport was a poster with the English message, “Let’s live in Tokushima!” It is a curious way to greet visitors, but a weekend in Hiwasa helps you understand the seriousness of the message. The train from Tokushima starts off normal enough, but halfway to Hiwasa it is reduced to one carriage on a single line running through fields of rice and dense forest. At one station, the driver got off for a few minutes and returned with a big bunch of flowers. At another we waited for ten minutes for no apparent reason; no one seemed in much of a hurry.
At Hiwasa station, we were met by the manager of Sarah and Miyuki’s Airbnb who kindly drove me to my usual hotel, the Shirotodai perched on a rock above the bay. As always, the staff were super helpful. I was asked if I wanted to check in early, and then told I could take my bike up to my room. They know how to make triathletes very happy. I assembled my bike in comfort and then rode back to town in the drizzle to find Sarah at her Airbnb. It is a great place. The manager is part of the “Let’s live in Tokushima” project. Old houses are renovated and then rented out at cheap rates to anyone who will move in to the area for five years or longer. Twice a month, she goes up to Tokyo and helps find jobs and homes in the Hiwasa area for people who want to try a new life far away from the city. The Airbnb is an old sweet shop which has been renovated, but they have yet to find a family who wants to take on the business.
A grey view of Hiwasa Bay from Hotel Shirotodai
Hiwasa is struggling. Elsewhere in the world, the Hotel Shirotodai would be a luxury resort for the privileged few. Here it is a slightly worn out place harking back to former glories. In my room there were some insect sprays and a note explaining that the worms are harmless – just give them a dash of spray. Similarly, the shops and restaurants around the town seem to be hanging on for dear life. The best restaurant, Hiwasaya, had a long queue standing outside in the rain. Last year it had run out of rice and it looked set to do the same this year. We went to another teishoku place, but they too had run out of rice. We ended up buying food at a supermarket which had plenty of rice which they sold straight from a huge rice cooker. We ate back in the Airbnb which was fast becoming my temporary Hiwasa home.
The Airbnb
At the race briefing, next door to the Airbnb, we were told that the race might be shortened or parts of it cancelled due to the weather. A decision would be made next morning. I returned to my hotel for dinner and there met Keren with the rest of the Kyoto Triathlon Club contingent. We enjoyed a perfect pre-race feast of numerous types of fish, steamed, grilled, fried and raw, and as much rice, miso soup, salad and fruit as you could eat. As usual, my fellow 55-59 age group triathletes were thrilled to see me at the race.
Next morning, I got up at a leisurely 5 o’clock and checked the race website. The swim and bike had been halved in distance, but the run would be 10 km. Apparently, the second half of the bike course was unsafe due to torrential rain earlier in the week, so we would just do 20 km. The swim had to be shortened as there is a very narrow section early on in the bike course, and a full swim would mean slower people would block the way of faster people returning on the bike.
There was another big difference this year. Previously, transition had been crammed beneath the avenue of giant camphor trees leading up to Hiwasa Hachiman Shrine. This year, it had been moved to an adjacent car park which allowed an enlarged field of 700 people. The drawback was the car park was swamped by rain and rather lacked the charm of the camphor avenue.
Yoann, Keren, Miyuki, Sarah, me
Keren, Miyuki, Sarah, Yoann and I met up before the swim for pictures and then moved to the beach for the awaodori/aerobics fusion warm-up. The new swim course was a conventional triangle sheltered from the swell by the tiny, pine-covered island of Tateshima. Yoann went off in wave 1, and then Keren and I lined up in wave 3. Wave 3 was male over 55, so I felt confident enough to line up at the front and get a fast start. I did. I ran into the water and was soon ahead of the pack. I was also soon catching up with slower swimmers in waves 2 and then 1; lots of swimmers. Hundreds of them. Trashing, kicking, veering off in all directions. Despite this, I had a good swim. I suffered none of my usual feelings of impending breathlessness and nascent panic; for once I felt like a real swimmer. As I stepped back on to the beach, my watch showed 11:50 which meant a pace of 1:36 per 100 metres. I had overtaken precisely 396 people in 750 metres.
My bike leg was good but not spectacular. I climbed each hill well enough, but on each descent I slowed and allowed younger, less cautious riders to overtake me. At one point, a young guy in a relay team shot past me on a long descent. I next saw him on the ground at the turnaround point nursing a bruised hip. Ten minutes later he was once again flying past me on a sweeping downhill. I slowed even more.
Miyuki coming into T2
The bike leg was over all too quickly. I was nervous that the shortened course wouldn’t allow me to build up an advantage on the bike, but I arrived in transition to that most satisfying of sights: an empty bike rack. I put on my shoes and ran out to enjoy my first ever cool-weather Hiwasa run. The promised rain was just about starting to fall, but I still took a sponge at every aid station, if only for the look of excitement on the faces of the student volunteers. Unlike my last two races in Ainan and Tokushima, there weren’t so many people lining the streets. This wasn’t due to lack of support, but rather due to a lack of people. At one point, a group of very elderly people were sitting at the back of a layby, so I ran over and high-fived each and every one of them. It not only went down very well, but also gave me just the boost I needed.
Soon the race leaders were running back towards me on the other side of the road. I gave Takahashi-san a shout of encouragement, but he could only manage a strained grimace in return. Shortly after the turnaround, I was grimacing too: someone in my age group was coming my way. I had almost forgotten that this was supposed to be a race so much was I enjoying the cool run through the paddy fields. I also saw Yoann coming fast towards me with his elegant upright posture. I needed to raise my run. I set my eyes on a couple of people ahead and started the task of overhauling them. It worked. I stepped up a gear and managed to run the last couple of kilometres at a reasonable pace. The last part of the course is a long straight road through town with the finish looming in the distance. I glanced a couple of times over my shoulder and coasted over the finish.
Four faces of suffering
Yoann finished shortly after me, and we both went for an excellent massage next to the shrine. Keren came in a while later looking remarkably fresh. We picked up our post-race bento and sat at one of the rows of tables sheltering from the rain.
I am not sure how fast I was on the bike or run as I had pressed the lap button twice going in to T2. However, a quick calculation shows I ran around 3:55 pace, compared with 4:13 last year. So that is nearly 20 seconds faster per kilometer in cooler weather. Another interesting thing for me was it was my first triathlon ever which I led my age group from the start to the finish. I was first into the water, first out of the water, first off the bike, and first over the finish. If only ever race was like that.
I met Sarah on my way to the award ceremony and told her the good news that she had also won her age group. The rain had forced the abandonment of the usual music and dance performance after the race and turned everywhere to mud. We packed up our stuff and started the long journey back home.
Starting the long journey home
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