Pre-Race: Logistics & Bad Decisions
My training this spring was a bit of a rollercoaster. The grand strategy was to use a few smaller races to build up for a massive 2027 season. Goto was one of the few long-distance races in Japan that had successfully eluded me, so I signed up.
Now, the distances were daunting. Not the race distance itself, but the actual time it took to get there. My golden rule for domestic racing is simple: the travel time must be less than the actual race time. I broke this rule spectacularly. It took over 12 hours to get from Shimoda to Goto, even with the "ultra-fast" jet boat from Nagasaki. Somewhere around hour nine of the commute, I was profoundly questioning my life choices. 
However, upon arrival, the island’s charm immediately won me over. The plush green mountains and pristine white beaches looked remarkably like home in Izu. And given my highly abbreviated running plans, I was actually looking forward to the bike.
About that... I managed to absolutely destroy my knee in early April during a family trip to Izu Kogen. Let this serve as a legally binding reminder to myself: Do not play basketball, and avoid any lateral movement of the lower joints whatsoever. The MRI confirmed a torn meniscus just two months before Goto. Since then, my rehab consisted entirely of cycling, swimming, and denial. But Goto was still a "Go." With zero run training, a aggressive power-walk was firmly in the cards.
I had excellent company. Tim was also tackling the B race, while Charles was bravely challenging the full A race. A few other TnT peeps had to back out due to work or lack of mileage, so honestly, just toeing the line felt like a mild victory. Tim scored an awesome guest house near the finish line, allowing us to spend a relatively relaxing Saturday scouting the bike course and aggressively carbo-loading in Fukue.
Swim: The Spectator Sport
While waiting for our own "pleasure cruise" to begin, we were thoroughly entertained by Charles and the A race start. It was an epic view of the swimmers charging out and heading back right in front of our faces. We deeply pitied Charles, who was not only swimming twice our distance (a casual 3k) but was also the only lunatic in the water without a wetsuit. He's a powerhouse swimmer, but even he looked like he was missing the sweet, sweet buoyancy of neoprene.
Our 1.5k swim took place in a calm, protected harbor and should have been an absolute ripper. For me, it was aggressively mediocre. Thanks to a chaotic mass start and the inevitable initial traffic jam, I spent the first 500 meters playing bumper cars instead of finding a rhythm. I finally found a groove in the second half, clocking a modest 1:52 per 100 meters. 
According to my Wahoo, I actually swam 1,638 meters. Apparently, living in a beach town doesn't automatically grant you the ability to sight in a straight line. Note to self: swim in the actual ocean more often.
Bike: Riding Hillary
Thoroughly glad to be on dry land, but zero percent eager to ride "Hillary" without a single time-trial practice ride this year, I mounted her and shot out of T1 like a cannon... right until I hit the very first hill outside the village and reality set in.
It was a tough day in the saddle. The course was a relentless series of rolling hills—not quite as brutal as Izu, but still racking up 1,100 meters of climbing over 104k. Frankly, a road bike would have been just as fast and saved me a massive backache. By 40k, my lower back began complaining due to a lack of TT practice and plain old age. By the halfway point, my entire body was staging a revolt.
To cope, I tried to focus on the spectacular Goto scenery. It really is a glorious island, offering the exact blend of mountain and sea views I love. One massive psychological plus was knowing that I wouldn't be running later (or so I thought), meaning I could empty the tank on the bike without saving anything for a rainy day.
My fueling actually went better than usual. I slammed about 200 grams of carbs over the first two hours until the mere sight of a gel packet made me sick. I switched to chomping on aid-station bananas and oranges for the final 90 minutes, washing it down with copious amounts of water and sports drinks. The aid stations were fantastic, popping up every 10k like beautiful oases. I finally caught a second (or maybe third) wind at the 90k mark, comforted by the knowledge that this specific brand of torture was coming to an end. Flying downhill into Fukue town felt incredible—I wanted to high-five every cheering local in sight.
Run: The "Uphill-Only" Innovation
T1 and T2 were proper Ironman-style transitions. You drop your bike without sight of the racks, and head into a massive tent to change. For me, "changing gear" meant swapping shoes, putting on a cap, and checking my pride at the door. I had no clue what place I was in, and frankly, I didn't care; this was going to be a strictly pedestrian affair.
The plan was to power-walk the entire half marathon (21k). But the moment I exited transition, the racing instinct kicked in, and I felt the bizarre urge to actually run—despite having run zero steps in the past month. The race officials and spectators were watching my aggressive power-waddling with deep concern. One guy yelled out to ask if I was okay. I shouted back, “No! Otoko wa tsurai yo!” (It’s tough being a man!), which got a polite applause.
After receiving a dozen more pitying looks, I decided I’d had enough walking. I made a sacred pact with my knee: we will only run the uphills, and we will strictly walk the flats and downhills.
And that’s exactly how it panned out. I thought it would be excruciatingly boring, but time actually flew by. I passed the time playing mind games with my watch and messing with the crowd.
Can I walk an 8-minute kilometer? Absolutely.
Can I make the locals laugh? Shouting "Baramon!" and "Let’s Goto!" worked like a charm.
The stretch along Okuura Bay at the 10.5k turnaround was wildly picturesque. I crossed the line with a run time of 2:41. Easily my slowest half marathon in history, but exactly according to plan.
The Damage Report
Total Time: 7:12:07
Overall: 81st out of 176 starters
Age Group (55–59): 13th out of 36
Swim: 30:31 (40th)
Bike: 4:00:14 (55th)
Run: 2:41:22 (137th—Nailed it.)
Post-Race & Recovery
A massive thank you to Meg for holding down the fort at home! And a huge shoutout to Makita-san for the incredible support on the ground.
I managed to sneak in a top-tier recovery day in Fukuoka for some essential sightseeing, food tasting, and omiyage shopping. If you are ever in Kyushu, Fukuoka is an absolute must-visit—it’s vibrant, growing, and the food is elite. I successfully replaced all burned calories by feasting on Hakata ramen, yakitori, chanko nabe, mentaiko, and gyoza.
Next stop: Mt. Fuji OD Triathlon in early September. Be there or be square.
— Motozo
南蛮人来国きたぞ！九州の五島島まで船で行き、素晴らしいTnTの仲間たちと美しい景色を堪能できたのは最高でした。Tim君が年齢別グループで2位を獲得したこと、そしてCharles君が初めての長距離レースに完全アコースティックで挑戦したこと（自転車シューズもウェットスーツもなし、純粋な雰囲気だけ！）に、心から拍手を送ります！さて、私はというと、年齢別グループ36人中13位という結果でした。ランニングでは汗をかかずに済むという目標は達成できたのですが…そもそも走る予定ではなかったからかもしれません。
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