Lottery Winner Trains for Kona ... in Iraq

Dawn Henry reports on the Marine Major Bill Conner and his Kona training

Every year since 1996, Marine Major Bill Conner has applied for a lottery slot to the Ironman World Championship race in Kona, Hawaii. Every April since 1996, Conner has logged onto the Ironman.com website on the day the lottery selections were announced, hoping to see his name on the list. But on April 15th, 2008, Conner did not visit the website. Assigned as both Executive Officer and Operations Officer for a battalion at Camp Fallujah in Iraq, Conner was fully occupied with his duties. The Ironman lottery application he'd filled out months before had slipped his mind.

So when he received an email from Ironman notifying him of his lottery selection, Conner's immediate thought was that someone was playing a joke on him. Then reality hit. After 13 years of hoping, he was being offered the chance to make his Hawaiian dream come true. Conner surveyed his dusty, wind-swept base and asked himself, "How in the world am I going to train for an Ironman out here?" 

The Marines at Camp Fallujah do not have access to swimming facilities. Conner can bike around the entire perimeter of the base on a tattered mountain bike in a mere 25 minutes. That is, if he's feeling lucky. Even within the barbwire fencing, there's always the chance of live fire interrupting a training ride.

Conner is not new to triathlon. Participating in the sport since 1996, Conner has completed Ford Ironman Coeur d'Alene and Ford Ironman Arizona. His experience in the sport only made the idea of competing in this year's Kona Ironman more daunting. As Conner says, "You can't fake an Ironman."

Conner is not new to Camp Fallujah, either. Currently serving his fourth tour at the base since 2004, Conner has spent nearly as much time in the past five years in Iraq as in the United States. During his early tours, mortars and rockets rained down on the base, making outdoor activities unadvisable. "In 2005 on one of my runs around the perimeter of the base I had a rocket shot right over my head … The next day, in almost the same location, a mortar landed just on the other side of the perimeter wall. That was when I decided running was bad for my health and stopped running outside."

The Fallujah of 2008 is a different place. Conner describes the area as much safer than it has been during any other time he has served there. "Incoming rockets and mortars are almost non-existent… This year it has been pretty safe going for a run, but I still think about that rocket every time I run past the same location."

Still, training for Kona around his combat duties seemed "almost overwhelming." Friends suggested he speak to the race office and attempt to defer his slot. But he knew that wasn't the policy and, besides, Major Bill Conner is a Naval Academy graduate and a Marine. He decided to meet the challenge head on. 

"This is a once in a lifetime opportunity," says Conner. "Every [World Championship competitor] has their own challenge and their own story." Conner had become interested in triathlon partly because of the compelling stories of athletes that he'd watched on the yearly Ironman television broadcasts. As fate would have it, in 2008, Conner has been called to add his own story to the race.

Now Conner spends his Saturday evenings in his room, folding his 6'4" frame over a used trainer, watching a video of the Kona course while he pedals for six hours at a time. Conner typically works 15 hours or more a day, seven days a week. But his boss has been supportive of his Ironman bid. And so Conner typically gets Saturday evenings to himself. He closes up his room and turns off the air conditioning, hoping that the humid, 90 degree Fahrenheit environment he creates as he spins will feel something like the race-day weather out on the Queen Ka'ahumanu Highway.

His long runs usually occur under cover of darkness, with the aid of a flashlight, which, considering the circumstances, isn't all bad. Temperatures in Fallujah regularly hit 115 degrees Fahrenheit this time of year, and sandstorms are a weekly event. When the wind blows, Conner says that it feels like someone's turned a hair dryer on high. 

But the weather is the least of Conner's concerns. Conner's priorities are clear. His military duties come first. When he does get a break, Conner tells his colleagues he'll be on "security patrol," and they know he's off to train. He rides outdoors on an old mountain bike which, with the seat fully extended, nearly accommodates his long legs. Weight training takes the place of pool laps. He's looking forward to swimming when he returns to the U.S. in September.

Conner says he is "very proud" to be serving his country in Iraq and to have watched the transformation in Fallujah take place. He is inspired by the work ethic and the sacrifices made by the military personnel he's served with. Conner has decided to dedicate his Kona race to "all the service members who have lost their lives in Iraq and Afghanistan," and specifically to three of his former Naval Academy classmates.

Thinking of his fellow military personnel, and particularly the men and women who have given their lives to the service of their country, gives him all the motivation he needs to keep up his eclectic training schedule, even when his daily responsibilities leave him exhausted. According to Conner, the hard part is behind him. 

"For the past 13 years I have been trying to get to [the World Championship] finish line," says Conner. "Now that I have a spot at the start line I am only 140.6 miles away from the goal."