City of Lancaster Triathlon
"The only limits we have are those we set ourselves"
COLT Ironman Experiences.
These are the personal race reports from members of COLT. Every person who races an Ironman has a tale to tell, it changes you, no race is the same, and no matter how many you do, you have to respect the challenge you face.
Hopefully these reports will give you an idea of the physical and mental anguish an Ironman faces. Hopefully they will amuse you, maybe shock you but most of all inspire you to never give up and to rise to the triathlon challenge ( whatever distance that may be ). The rewards far out way the sacrifices.
You may also like to read the inspirational, moving and amusing race experiences of other COLT Triathletes here
Challenge Copenhagen 2010 by Duncan Vavangas ( aged 13 3/4 )
Saturday (day before race day)
Everything got wet.
Bikes blew off racks, tents blew away, bag racks fell down and T1 returned to the sea!
Swim course too rough to place swim marker buoys.
Thunder and lightening.
Sunday (Race Day)
Got up a bit early and ate some Weetabix.
Went for a swim with lots of other people and drank some nice seawater.
Then I went for a bike ride and cycled round in big circles for a while.
After that I ran around town for a bit.....
Had dinner with my family.
Then I went to bed.
Ironman France 2010 by Chris Clarke
So, why Nice? Other than the obvious (I'll get it out the way now, it sounds nice!) with the convenience of Bolton, why travel so far? Unlike many triathletes, I've taken my time committing myself to an Ironman. Having first raced in 2003 and gradually upped in both speed and distance, it was inevitable that I'd have a go at the full distance when the time felt right. I'd always maintained that I wouldn't enter such an event until I had achieved each of the component parts. Swimming wasn’t an issue, and I ran London in 2008 – which led to a 6 month break from racing, but I didn’t get round to riding my first century till last year. Having ridden down to Bolton to watch some of IMUK last year, I was struck by the runners who were trotting along really quite slowly, obviously in varying degrees of pain yet spirits seemed high. I was almost sold on the event there and then, but keeping a close eye on entry information I was somewhat dismayed when the date for 2010 was initially announced as August 8th. This was a day I could not do! (Annual pilgrimage to GBBF that weekend) So I looked at the other possibilities. Not much to choose from, though flicking through the websites the idea of the race in Nice really appealed. Even when the date in Bolton was finalised as a week earlier, I'd already pretty much decided and in December I entered.
Initially training didn't quite go to plan. Injuring my foot shortly after entering meant I couldn't run during January and February and the wintry conditions made cycling a no-no. In desperation I had to dust off my turbo – which also irritated the foot a bit, so a lot of winter was spent in the pool. Out on an 'A' ride in March, I fell off. Nothing seems badly damaged, but a fortnight later, once I’ve grown new skin, I'm back out on the bike when at 30 miles there's a noticeable discomfort in my right knee on every pedal stroke. Once home, no pain at all so I join on the 'B' ride on the Sunday. Same problem. A week passes and I’ve almost forgotten it so I get up for the 'A' ride again. First 30 miles, no problem. Next 30, pain increasing. Richard falls off (nothing to do with me, despite my presence), yet he and the others still ride off into the distance as I'm only able to push with one leg by this point. Scour website to check withdrawl procedure. Must decide by 25th April. I'll see how Skipton goes first. Running, by this point, is going fine.
I'm entered into 3 tris this year at 5 week intervals. Skipton, Keswick and, of course, Nice. Skipton is great. Fast swim, no pain on the bike and the effort hurts by the run, the way a sprint should be. Keswick is a better preparation for what's to come. Proper swim, hills on the bike, and heat on the run. Took a bit longer than last year, but this time the swim was full length, the bike course was extended and my position was around 10 places higher (and out of about 100 more competitors). Marvellous.
Five weeks to go. No worries about my swimming, I'm running off the bike better than ever, but haven't managed to cycle the miles I would have liked. Only time for 2 weekends of long training before the taper. I get through it all. Everything is starting to feel good. Now it's finally possible to wear less layers, I feel real speed in my legs when running. Down to the last fortnight and along for the last open water swim before the Med. It's only a swim, tapering doesn't include that. I completed a maximum of 6 laps per session last year, but an Ironman swim is nearer 7. Ignoring calls for volunteers to accompany the uninitiated (sorry Andrew!), I'm on a mission. Pretty much first in. 7 laps, done. Last out. Feel fine. Now I can really relax.
1 week to go and I can't resist the Sunday ride. Pop the race wheels on, which always gives a buzz. It's a cracking ride. Take it carefully where there's potential danger, but enjoy hammering it back to Caton with the other guys. That afternoon, oh no! Tingling in back of mouth, and full blown sore throat by the evening. Spend the next few days well stocked with tissues. Surely this isn't something an overdose of vitamins and some warmer climes can't shift?
Sure enough it's easing by the time I fly on Thursday, even better by Friday and almost unnoticeable on Saturday. By now I'm registered, branded and making final checks ready to rack my bike and hand in the transition bags. In a way, having to do all this the day before the race this eases the nerves. So much is now out of my hands. All I need to do is eat (thanks Parents!), keep hydrated, and sleep (no thanks noisy Europeans – aren't you racing too?).
Race morning arrives and rising at the unearthly hour is surprisingly easy. Breakfast goes down well also, trusty weetabix and some lecal pastries. Stuff my usual chunks of malt loaf into my top tube bag, gels are already stuffed in my jersey pockets in the bike bag. I'll attach this when I pump my tyres. Dad knocks on my door just before our agreed meeting time. Right, it's time to head to the race. Far less faff than normal before the start. Just spend a few moments at the bike attaching computer, nutrition and pumping tyres. Hand in Streetwear bag and wander down to the beach. After donning wetsuit I realise I'm thirsty. It's nerves kicking in. Not much I can do about this now. Coleridge drifts through the mind.
I've heard things about this swim. None of them good. At least the water won't be cold. I place myself somewhere in the middle of the ~1:10 pen. Following my usual mantra: “expect the worse, then the reality won't seem so bad”, I prepare for the start. After some upbeat music it starts. There's a hairy European chap next to me (looks a bit like Lemmy. He possibly has the 2nd best facial hair in the race), and we find mutual support and balance helps the precarious clamber over the pebbles into the sea – flip flops have been banned (imagine a slick of some 5000 shoes?) - and away we go. There's not much choice about swim speed to start with. Just doggy paddle along with the crowd. After a short while things thin out a little and it's worth putting my head under. Just keep it steady. Generally passing people, though rubber clad bodies seem to gravitate towards each other. Where there's a gap one moment, it's a squeeze the next. Annoyingly, wetsuit seems to be chaffing more than normal. Maybe it's the salt water? End of first lap approaches. Hat is slipping a little, I'll try to sort that on the turn around. Back in for second lap. Wetsuit still chaffing. Second lap feels to be over really soon. Out of the water and clock says 1:05. I should be able to swim this distance comfortably in an hour, but I feel fine. Haven't swallowed any significant gulps of water, and suffered no major blows. I'll sacrifice 5 minutes for that.
T1. Keep trishorts on but change to proper cycle jersey – my shoulders will thank me. Gels and inhaler already tucked in pockets. Quick gulp of drink on exit from tent. Mostly swilled and spat to get rid of any salty residue from the sea. Fortunately my bike is on the end of the rack making it easy to locate. Grab it and trot to mount line. 7 minute transistion (though that includes running past at least a ¼ mile of racked bikes!) and off down the Promenade Des Anglais hearing a shout of encouragement from my Dad.
As expected, I soon feel as though I'm going backwards on the bike. This will always be the case until the day I forget how to swim, and learn how to ride properly fast. I'm being overtaken loads. At least I now know where all those massive Europeans I feared would swamp me during the swim were... behind me! I must ignore them. Got to ride my own race. The first 18k of the bike is uneventful. Along the prom to the airport, before heading north alongside le Var and through an industrial estate (it's not all scenic!). Then there's a sharp turn to the left. There were warnings about this in the race briefing. It's the first climb of the day, and the shortest, but it's also the steepest. When it comes to cycling there is one advantage of being a short-arse lightweight. That's climbing! It's very much a leveller. Never one to fear my lowest gear ratio (I love my compact), I'm happy to spin past a few people. But this is a proper French climb. The road narrows and it's too congested to keep passing. There's even a chap wearing horns cheering us on. Sadly not Didi Senft – unless he's had a shave? I stand on my pedals to give the legs a stretch and go with the crowd. The road soon levels and an aid station appears. I'm photographed grabbing a bottle (I wonder if that will appear anywhere?). A little further along I can see riders ahead. What is most noticeable is that they are at a significantly higher altitude than myself. Sure enough the reason is soon revealed. The first switchback. Better take that carefully. I'm well aware of the possibility of toe overlap on my bike. The next 20k is a gradual ascent, but nothing too taxing, and every village passed has people out in support. The first descent soon follows. It's a nice break for the legs though I do again find myself being overtaken by those I passed on the climb.
Now it's time for the big one. The climb of the Col de l'Ecre. 21kms of riding up to an altitude of 1120m. It was during this climb that I experienced a new cycling sensation. Being grateful for a headwind! We're climbing the southern face of the mountain so very exposed to the sun and it's pretty warm. As much as I relish a good climb, this is the only part of the bike where I felt uncomfortable. Switching to more water and less Infinit after the next aid station helps. At the top there's a plateau, and it's hard to remember we're higher than any point in England. The next section of the bike is a mixture of up, down and flat. All wonderfully scenic, round sweeping bends on well maintained roads. It’s no exaggeration when this ride is described as “Straight out of Le Tour”. There is then a short out and back section. Demoralising at first when I get to see all those riders ahead, but encouraging after when I realise there are plenty more behind. It's time to start losing height now. Twisting round the mountainsides, there's barely need to pedal, though I'm always too cautious on what should be the easy bits. Encouragingly I actually pass a rider, though the colour of their number tells me something about my riding technique. I descend like a girl! Falling off hurts enough when clad in winter kit and the roads are slippy, so I'm happy enough staying upright. There's a final short ascent before le Var comes back into view. This demonstrates just how high up we still are but that height is soon lost and I'm back on the road alongside the river. The end of the ride is uneventful though I see one rider receive a justified black card penalty for drafting and actually overtake a few. This gets trickier as the route narrows back along the Promande des Anglais where it runs parallel with the run course and it doesn’t seem worth the effort.
T2 is lacking the young beauties slapping sun cream everywhere and anywhere which I had been led to expect from these foreign races. So I apply the small tube given in the registration pack. A full change is in order into Skins shorts and white tri top (sadly not COLT branded – too tight to pay this year’s prices). Another new experience this year, and one that shows the benefit of all that training, is the ability to run comfortably straight off the bike. I set off at a bounce, careful to moderate the pace. I have it in my mind that I should be able to run a 4 hour marathon, so 30 minutes to complete each length of the prom.
The first lap goes fine, pretty much on schedule, pausing slightly to take on water at the aid stations and using the showers to cool the core. I’m not sure how hot it was. Probably at least high 20s, but with my new hat (more like a miniature tent) I’m not suffering too badly. Resisting the urge to rehydrate the local greenery, I use one of the official facilities. Big mistake! Barely retaining the contents of my stomach I’m out of there as quickly as nature will allow. Shortly after the first aid station on lap 2 I see some familiar kit heading towards me. I knew there was a fellow COLT racing, but I hadn’t managed to meet him before now. Even though I’m not wearing it, seeing the club name gives me a boost. By now, despite the good start, legs are starting to hurt. I expected this in the middle laps and I now know what people mean by the “Ironman Shuffle”. Like most I’ve adopted a policy of running between the aid stations but walking through them. Seeing Mike again on the return, I give him a shout. There is a slight westerly breeze. It’s actually easier running into it due to the cooling effect. Near the airport there are a few trees. Some athletes are lying in the shade. I’m not sure if they have given up or are just having a rest. The latter seems fatal to me. To stop moving would likely mean to never start again. On the next lap I see someone being helped into an ambulance. It’s obviously been too much for them. Shame. Finally notice my parents at the end of lap 2. Apparently they are flying the flag, though I seem to have blinkered this. Despite knowing where they are I fail to see them when heading out again. After the turnaround on lap 3 I’m suffering. I’m following 2 chaps from Leeds, one of whom takes a convenient break. That’s it, I’m going to stroll for a bit, but only until he catches me again. This only takes a few minutes and soon I’m trotting along again.
Finally, I have 3 wrist bands. Just 10k to go (so only about 40 minutes... I jest!) It’s also starting to cool down. I’d originally planned on feeding myself a gel every half lap. This plan disolved when I just couldn’t face any more, so I’m munching on whatever takes my fancy when I pass an aid station. Slices of orange are refreshing, banana is great too. I’m nowhere near having that empty feeling so it’s obviously working. I’ve just got to overcome the pain in my legs to keep going. Finally the last turn around. A fellow competitor comments that we are now heading for home. This inspires me. I don’t know how I do it, but I pick up the speed. I’m passing people. Always a good feeling. Run straight through the first aid station. “Allez Chris” I hear. It’s great having names printed on the numbers - there’s been random support throughout the bike and run. Can I keep this effort up all the way to the end? No. I have to break it up at the second aid station, and take on some final water. The sweep of the bay is such that I can clearly see the transition tents. They are just past the finish, so there’s something to aim for. Back running again and I’m flying (I’m not really, but it’s all relative). Ignore the final aid station, hear my parents again, still don’t see the flag so no crossing the line with that, and under a small gantry with a banner stating “Finish Line”. There’s even a timing mat. Fortunately I have enough wits about me to realise this isn’t actually the finish, but just the turning off the main loop. Just a bit further, past the tiered seats and manage some appreciation of the cheerleaders. Then it’s up, over the line and I’ve done it. Cameras in my face, medal round my neck. I then turn around to see the clock just ticking over to 11 hours 49. In my head I’d had a target of around 12 hours, so very happy with that. Official finish time is 11:48:50 (1:05:30/6:15:18/4:12:44, with approximately 7 mins for each transition). It's a day where everything went pretty much to plan.
Ironman Lanzarote 2010 by Chris Wild
Following the fantastic reports from my comrades in team COLT Lanza 2010 squad, I guess its time I put fingers to keyboard too – as usual, this will be somewhat on the lengthy side – get a brew and prepare to be sent to sleep!
This was always going to be my most important Ironman race since the first, for so many reasons; I guess the initial motivator was that it was going to be number five. I can still remember the moment when race director Kenneth (a lovely guy I've known for 26 years now!) announced at the 2007 awards ceremony, that in future, they would be giving Special Achievement medals to anyone who completed five Ironmans in Lanzarote. “I've got to have one of those”. Priority races 2008-2010 sorted! Foolish boy.
Last summer, it looked like things may not go to plan, with the cartilage tear, but making it round Ironman UK gave me the courage to enter, and after deciding not to have an operation, there was nothing to do but start training, and praying. This Ironman would decide my triathlon future – if it was going to be another Bolton, just getting round, then it would probably be my last. Five would be a good place to leave it.
As it has been pointed out many times, Lanzarote is my spiritual home; its my home race – I know the course, and I know so many of the competitors, organisers and athletes competing. Being able to share it with so many of my club-mates this year made it even more of an exciting prospect – especially giving the mouth-watering showdown between the old guard, and the extremely talented new kid on the block. I was looking forward to an inside view. March's extended training camp in Lanzarote went well, and I even managed to start running again. I dared to hope that I might be able to get close to my previous times, if my body held together.
Race week came, but something was different this year – I was nervous. I couldn't settle until I'd counted all the COLTs in. Meeting up with everyone for the swim sessions, and visiting team HQ overlooking the swim start, made it a very special time. The wind was high, it was cloudy in the north; it was perfect conditions for the COLTs (Valerie and Simon may disagree!). But there was talk of the wind dropping. Whilst many were celebrating, I knew this would mean HOT, and harder work for the last 60k of the bike. Fi had brought a thermometer, and our patio was cooking at 31°C (88°F) in the shade, and a disturbing 50.6°C (123°F!!) in the afternoon sun. The run course has NO shade.
Race morning finally arrived, and I got myself sorted calmly and confidently. Or so I thought! Fi was snapping photos and remarked “you look nervous”. 10 minutes later I was chatting to a friend who also commented “I've never seen you looking nervous before”. I guess all the factors above we're lodged somewhere in the subconscious.
The swim is always a lottery; you can get caught in the melee, or end up with no-one to draft. After a slight worry of thinking I'd broken three fingers of my left hand before the first turn, I soon realised I'd got a lucky ticket today. I managed to find space, but on the edge of the vortex, for the majority of the first lap. As I ran up the beach, I glanced at my watch, and read 31. What? Lap 2 went in a blur, as I spent the whole time grinning, again enjoying reasonable space. Out the swim in 1:05, a spot of wrestling in T1 as I rounded the corner into a guy coming the wrong way, then off on the bike.
The bike started beautifully, climbing out of Calero into a breeze rather than a full on gale, was a joy; likewise fire mountain, where it had been blowing 25mph the previous weekend. I was already 15 minutes ahead of the schedule both on my handlebars, and in the car with Fi and Dad, as they charged around the island in the car, cheering us on. The small climb after fire mountain made my legs hurt – have I over-cooked it in the first 45k? Stay calm, there's a good downhill section to recover. Up to Teguise at halfway – still way ahead, and spotting the COLT flag means, they're adjusting the schedule to keep up too, so no stress there (I'd hate to have them chasing shadows all day). Onto the big climbs, and I don't seem to be going backwards like normal, but I'm still ticking them off on the descents.
No sign of the Captian by the side of the road, so he hasn't punctured yet, but the Grand Master should be coming past at any moment. Spent too much time propping my bike against a bin at the special feed station and 'comfort break', so presumed JK had flown past. I could see cloud still clinging to the top of Mirador, and prayed it would still be there by the time I arrived. Slight hair raising moments on the descent into Haria, as firstly a car pulled over right in front of me (luckily on a slow section), then testing my new tubs to the full as I whacked into a pot-hole at around 30mph, and expected both wheel and tub to disintigrate instantly. They did their job, and the cloud just about hung around on the summit of Mirador. A guy with a disc flew past on the descent, but I caught him on the long time trial back along the island – its not all about the kit.
At the summit of the beastly new climb back into Teguise, someone shouted “your position 191”. Top 200 – sweet. 25K from the finish Fi shouted “John and Richard are still behind you”. “What do you mean, STILL?” I knew if I could crest the next hill, I could probably make it home, and as I came in towards transition and saw the remainder of the COLT crew, the look on Sarah's face was priceless, and unmistakably “what are you doing here?” I'd been thinking the same since the first lap of the swim! My knee was sore, but as soon as I started running with the bike through transition, I knew it was going to be OK for a few miles. My Garmin read 5:36 – way beyond my wildest dreams of 5:56! More grinning!
I didn't see JK come in on the bike, and was probably just over 1k when I saw the captain coming in. I had no pretensions of holding either of them off, but had hopefully given them a surprise to bring out great marathons. I was running well, and hoped I could make them run 3:30 to beat me. Didn't see TFC until beyond the airport. He was looking strong, and was around 10 minutes ahead of me, and probably close to the same again ahead of the serious contenders. Hold it together, and you've achieved the ultimate coup. Clocked JK shortly after the turn, followed swiftly by the captain. Slowly, slowly, catchy hippy! The timescale of the remainder is a bit of a blur. The heat was oppressive, and I was hitting the smart gels and cola hard, so no wonder really! I was also wasting time sourcing ice at the aid stations, but a cube in each hand, replaced at each station, kept me cool, and feeling relatively good. I was running OK, and walking the stations was helping my knee.
At the next sighting, Dan looked to be overheating, and even though the Grand Master complained of bad legs as cruised by (oh for bad legs running that pace!), I knew he'd got this one in the bag. The captain came by late on lap two, and his calf was clearly troubling him mentally as well as physically. John had clearly recovered, and TFC had disappeared (we appear to have missed him hiding in a portaloo!). As we started the final lap, I caught the captain, and that did the trick – he was off and never looked back. No way was he going to get beaten by a vegetarian! Job done. I usually have something left for the last 5k, but not today. I guess there was nothing driving that extra effort out of me; I'd already given that, and was going to go sub-11 with time to spare. If someone had told me I'd do under 5:40 on the bike and 10:40 overall, I'd have laughed at them.
Spent the last 500m scouring the crowds for the Mrs and the flag. No flag, but who cares; gave me free hands for a salute to the late, great Ronnie James Dio as I crossed the line. Man-hugs all round, then a painful wait for TFC, during which time JK calmly contemplated when to go and check to see if he'd qualified for Hawaii! And I thought I was laid back. Dan held it together when many would have panicked, coming home in an excellent time. He'll be back on a colder day, to give us all the whooping he threatened for most of the race.
Quick shower at race HQ, then back out to see the Iron Lady finish. They say couples shouldn't both race Ironman, but Valerie shows it can work extremely well, with another storming performance. My legs and lungs couldn't hold on for Simon's finish, but having seen him earlier, he didn't need a team boost, he appeared in total control, and a PB looked very much on the cards.
Sunday's club party, was much better than any official ceremony, and El Capitan dished out the awards in style. I was sad to have to leave early, but I did get a sneak preview of a must-buy DVD! There's some footage of Richard shortly after crossing the line - Comedy gold! Not sure it'll make the TV edit, but well worth setting the recorder just in case!
So that's it for another year; days like that probably happen once in a blue moon, and I feel very lucky to have had a near-perfect race. I managed to frighten the old boys, but class will out. JK showed why he's the Grand Master, and all 6 COLTS, and our fantastic supporters did the club proud.
Roll on 21st May 2011 – I'm in already, although I'm on a hiding to nothing as I can't possibly go quicker on a 'normal' weather day. Anyone fancy a trip to the toughest and best Ironman?
Ironman Lanzarote 2010 by John Knapp
It's going to be very difficult to follow Dan's report from Lanza and John's from RSA. There's all that emotion and the achievement of completing such a challenge for the first time. I loved the reports from everyone finishing for the first time in Bolton last year. Ironman really is a family. I'm not elitist but it is different to other forms of triathlon, there's a bond between those who have gone through it together whether its sub 10 or 16hrs+. No one finishs without huge commitment to get it done.
I'm the old lag at this. Lanza was number 16 so I should know what I've let myself in for. After the 'off' on ice in December that shelved all my training for a couple of weeks it had gone pretty much according to plan. Started riding again after Xmas, 2 week cycle trip in Jan put some base back in place and started swimming and running again once we got back home. For those interested I built up to about 10k swim, 12hr bike and 5hr run in my biggest weeks but this year I'd been working with a coach on developing a bit more bike power so intensity has been up on previous years. If I have any secret it's targeting consistency and aiming to get a certain number of endurance sessions under the belt so I know it'll be there for race day.
Getting to Lanza was a relief, ash clouds and also that there were no more hard or long sessions to do before race day. Had to fight the urge to use all the extra time for eating and drinking. Fight the doubt that comes from the way the legs ache when you do less, the visual illusions that your legs are shrinking and there's lard appearing around your stomach. The way everyone else looks fitter, leaner, more hungry for it. What do you hope to do? I was asked at dinner one night. I couldn't think in times, too dependent on weather, but more it seems to tempt fate to name the real ambition. 'To get round', 'get under 11hrs', 'race him (Richard)' is what I said. In my head it's 'top 10', 'top 5', 'Kona......
What you never know when you line up on the start is how the day will go. You do the training, peak and taper, set up your gear, and then it's a conveyor belt that delivers you on to a crowded beach as the sun rises with 1500 others who all feel as keyed up and adrenalin fueled as your self.
You never know if you'll get a shit fight or good feet in the swim, I went wide, added some distance but stayed out of trouble, set off hard and eventually at about 800m some reasonable feet I could stay with went by. I latched on, swapped when they slowed, was 5 mins up on my time in 04.
T1, loads of swimmers stripping in the shower, 'Keep moving forward' is my mantra. Why stop if you can make progress towards the finish? HR in the first 5k out was 90%+. Struggled to get my effort under control but the legs felt fresh and with my slow swim there's loads of cyclists to overtake. Biggest surprise was seeing Richard up the road after 20k, as I passed he told me he'd been sick in the swim. He's not had much good fortune this year.
First half of the bike my HR kept nudging up, too fresh, too enthusiastic, felt fantastic, tried to reel it back in with partial success. On reflection I need to reduce my HR target for the first 90k. At halfway you are also half way through the longest bit of climbing on the course and it was the first chance to ask the Wild support crew ( they set out their support plan with a huge commitment to get out on the road side as many times as possible, so cheers right round the course for the COLT. Very appreciated) 'How's Chris doing?'. 'He's not far infront..........' What can I say, he was having an epic day, the kind that in cycling would start all kinds of gossip and allegations, I was gobsmacked. My own early enthusiasm is beginning to hurt, legs heavy, can't keep the HR up, by the end of the bike even 70% is difficult to achieve and I'm thinking I've blown it. Seeing Cat Morrison come past me on the last descent and beating her out of T2 was the only consolation.
The biggest thing I've learnt that you cannot tell when you are on the start line is whether you've brought your run legs with you. I read Dan and John's accounts and I know exactly what happens. Sometimes you think you remembered the legs then at 20k they fall off and it all goes into melt down. In my first 5 IM it all went pear shaped, it was only the 6th in Frankfurt when I finally nailed running the whole marathon and it still doesn't always go right. Kona last year it was walking at just 1 mile. Dan will remember following me on athlete tracker in Zurich in 07 when I lost 30 mins in the third lap and fell right out of the sub 10 target. But in Lanza it appears I had them. Genuine doubt at 18k when I finally caught our own pet hippy and the quads were going. Time for the second mantra 'repair yourself'. When its getting real tough slow down and do what you have to to get your body together. Usually its fluid and nutrition that have crept off the radar when you were feeling too good or too bad to concentrate.
And that was it. I spent all day ignoring the possibilities of success, my watch hadn't started so I didn't know the time, just concentrated on doing the bit I was in, on the next small chunk of the race, take no notice of the big picture just focus on what you need to do now. Sat in the finishing pen hoping but not daring to get the result, very happy when it came. My time exactly an hour quicker than my 2004 attempt on the same course.
All the above is about me, but thats not what made this such a special event. Valerie was competing in her toughest race yet, I worry all day as to how she is. Can do nothing to find out until I see her on the run looking great. She's been listening to my mantra as she has the fastest transitions in her age group. I'm hugely proud of my ironWOman.
But we've done races before in other places but this now ranks as the best. The COLT away team was immense, competitors and supporters alike. Dan is right, there's a great camaraderie is shared suffering, it builds the wish to support your competitors rather than destroy them. Every crossing with the rest of the team was a lift. I'm so sorry I missed Chris finishing after he made the most of his entry fee by having the longest of our days. The COLT support was the other element. Out from dawn to dusk, cheering the whole field but saving the real noise for us. Thank you. In combination with knowing that others are following online at home it adds so much to the endeavour. I plan to reciprocate for the Bolton team.
Lastly it's a shame that young pretender Dan and the Man Tri crew didn't have the endurance to stay on for the Sunday night duathlon of drinking and dancing. The old crowd were on fine form even if some were loosing the use of their legs before the end of the night.
Ironman Lanzarote 2010 by Daniel McParland
Thanks everyone for your support! I think I was first back in the UK so here we go with the first race report, be warned it's rather epic in length but then so is the Ironman...............
So it was pretty tough, harder than I thought it would be really but it was a totally amazing event and even though I didn’t have the performance I had hoped for it didn’t take anything away from a fantastic day.................
After a palava of a few days beforehand we had registered over at club la santa, driven a bit of the course (although not the hard bits) and racked the bikes and all the separate run/bike/special needs bags. I had a couple of practice swims in the sea on the course it was a bit choppy in places but nothing major, the bike was running very sweetly I had polished and tuned it to the max and my new tubs were just outrageously fast. I had a couple of 30 min rides and a couple of 15 min runs in the days beforehand, during the rides my legs felt magical and I knew I could ride well............. the runs I felt fresh but I was aware that the heat was going to be a major factor it was up to 30 degrees in the mid afternoon which is exactly when I would be running.
So race day dawned I slept well and was up at 4am to force down 4 weetabix, 4 brown toast, 2 yoghurts and a powerbar. Couldn’t manage anything else but thought that was about right, we wandered down to the start (hotel was only half a k from transition) for a final check of the bikes, pump the tubs to 140psi and checked both bags one final time before donning the wetsuit and kissing Katie goodbye before I went for a little 5 min swim warm up just to loosen the arms. The swim start was already packed with 10 mins to go so I just pushed and shoved my way to 5 rows from the front which I estimated would be my approximate swim ability............. Nerves were jangling especially when they announced 1 min to go.......... all of a sudden the hooter went and it was TOTAL CARNAGE!!! I ran as best I could into the water holding my arms out to try and get me a little space but as soon as I dived in it was just a total shit fight, legs, arms, bodies everywhere I was flailing around trying to go with the seething mass of bodies to utilize the draft. This lasted all the way to the first turn where everyone piled up again at the 90 degree turn I swam most of that with my head up just desparately trying to breathe without getting punched or kicked. It settled down a bit after that for the long drag parallel to the beach but there was always a little bit of action due to overtaking some slower swimmers or being overtaken by faster swimmers, the rest of the lap was pretty uneventful I was always conscious to keep a lid on the intensity even during the worst bits of scrapping. Skip from man tri (I recognized his wetsuit and swim stroke easily in the crystal clear water) came past me just before the turnaround he was swimming well so I left him to it and stuck to my own pace, no point in using up gas this early in the day. 1st lap done in 29.11 and we had to get out run round a tower with hordes of cheering spectators and dive back in. The second lap was fairly uneventful I just tried to relax and enjoy it, went through a shoal of fish which wasn’t pleasant and hit a spot of chop halfway round. My arms were definitely tiring in the last quarter I hadn’t done enough long swims or wetsuit swimming in training so I knew I would tire a bit but I was happy to get out in 59 mins in what is always regarded as a fairly slow IM swim.
T1 was a crowded affair with plenty of hustle and bustle, I took my time and loaded up my pockets with powerbars, let the amazing helpers slap suncream on me and ran up the steps to the bikes. Jogging through I noticed Brad from man tri had already left, his bike slot was empty but I expected to lose a minute or two on the swim so wasn’t bothered. I got to my row and saw skip running around like a headless chicken trying to find his bike which was on the same row as mine, I pointed his bike out to him and shouted “you owe me ten seconds for that” before proceeding to my own steed, helmet on and I was off onto the prom amidst a mass of cheering and whooping. It was a massive buzz but I had to concentrate as there were lots of cyclists and many were trying to get their feet in their shoes, I pedaled on a bit and got some good speed up before doing the same.
I soon got into a rhythm and tried to settle down into an easy pace. I overtook skip and exchanged good luck calls with him (we had wildly different strategies, his was to take it easy and enjoy the day, mine was to try and race it and see where the chips fall), I must admit to enjoying the overtake, skip is an uberbiker over the short course so it was something I haven’t experienced before! About 3k down the road and I caught and passed Brad, this was again to be expected his strength comes on the run so I knew I would need a decent lead starting the marathon to have a chance of beating him.
The early miles were a blur of overtaking and being overtaken as everyone found their legs from the swim. Most of the guys overtaking me seemed to be 8ft Germans with tree trunk legs and all of them were called Thomas (we had our names on our numbers), these must be the uber bikers that Richard and John speak of. I was feeling fantastic but still careful to keep a lid on my efforts as although it was overcast at first I could feel the heat starting to build. At about 10k in Kit Stokes (UK based athlete racing as a pro for the first time) came past and chatted to me, we seemed evenly matched and ended up to’ing and fro’ing past each other for a lot of the first half of the bike, I was very careful to maintain a bigger than 10m gap when riding behind. I got passed by a large group of about 10 in clear breach of drafting rules on the road down to el golfo, it was a little frustrating but you just have to let it go, ride your own race and hope the draftbusters do their job. They'd get split up on the hills later on anyway. I went to change bottles at the el golfo aid station but approached too fast and dropped the bottle (it was my first attempt at a riding catch) so I quickly jumped off and ran back for the bottle just to be on the safe side. I was drinking plenty and my first powerbar went down well, my legs were still great when we went past la santa and then hit the first main berg of fire mountain. I was a little disappointed with the wind I had expected some crushing winds to slow everyone down but it was abnormally calm and meant holding a high pace was easy, I also knew good conditions were a big equalizer and this would make it harder to build a lead on Brad and the other runners I was trying to leave behind!
I caught Bella Bayliss on the descent of fire mountain, this was a good sign I was hoping to catch all the women before the first half of the bike was done so knew I was fairly on target and still feeling strong ready for the big bergs in the back half of the bike. Nutrition was still going down well and I was drinking constantly alternating between energy drink and nuun, I’d had 3 powerbars now so went onto my gel solution, unfortunately the first time I went for it I had a butter fingers moment and dropped the bottle so again had to jump off and run back to get it. Leaving it wasn’t an option as it was my nutrition for the entire last half of the ride.
The support up the big climb to haria was immense and I thrived on it, Kit dropped me here and went on to a 5.26 ride and 22nd overall so it was probably a wise decision to let him go he is a class athlete, I was still feeling fresh and climbing comfortably but there was a marathon to think about and the heat was getting noticeably worse so I held back still but made good headway and overtook many athletes on the climb to haria. I noticed Cat Morrison here with her broken chain (not a great advert for Di2!), how she came back to win after losing half an hour is unbelievable and maybe Chrissie will have some competition in kona this year?
Skip had warned me of the descent off haria and it lived up to its reputation the switchbacks were tight and descending is never easy on an aggressively setup TT bike, I lost some places but I was also overtaken by an ambulance with a siren blaring so I took this as a warning that a minute or two lost descending are nothing compared to a big stack and an end-ex. The climb to mirador del rio swiftly followed and here it was the same story I made good ground and felt comfortable. At the top Richard had warned me it was a long way to the next aid station so I slowed right down and changed both bottles before cruising the descent and hitting the long flat section back to Teguise. This was a great section I spent some good time in the 11t sprocket and eventually caught what I thought was the leading lady (Kate something from Australia she was actually 2nd at the time), she had a camera rolling on her so I overtook in between her and the camera bike and gave the camera a cheeky wave, you never know it might make the highlights DVD! All that was left now was a little climb back up to Teguise which I found fairly easy and then it was all downhill and flat back to Puerto del Carmen. In the last 30k I still had plenty of gas in the legs but my feet were sore I think they had expanded slightly in the heat and my toes were hurting, I was definitely looking forward to getting off the bike now and I was really getting sick of gels but I didn’t have a choice but to keep packing them in, my stomach was still accepting them so I had no worries at this point. I lost a few places on the final twisty tight descent into PDC but again I didn’t see the point in pushing for a few seconds here when I was so close to the marathon……………..
I was elated to finally hit the promenade again, the crowd support swelled the closer I got to transition and I saw many of the top athletes already well into their marathons. I saw Katie and the other COLT supporters just before transition and gave her a whoop and a wave, hit the dismount line gingerly and noticed the clock said 6.36 so I knew I had ridden a 5.31 when factoring in a 1hr swim plus 5mins ish in T1, bang on target! I could have kissed my bike for working flawlessly and getting me round without any mechanicals, that was my biggest fear pre race. I can cope with my legs letting me down but if something out of my control like multiple punctures or other mechanicals ruined 8 months of preparation I would have been devastated.
Didn’t rush through T2 I took my time, made sure my feet were dry and socks and trainers were nice and comfortable, let the helpers apply plenty of suncream and tucked some plasters into my pocket in case of blisters. Grabbed a few gels and set off on my first ever marathon…………………………..
At this point I knew I would have to run a 3.20 to get my sub 10 target but I set off and felt great so still thought it was on……………. Bella passed me in transition she must have had a good 2nd half of the bike to stay close and whizzed through T2 but I suppose her experience lends itself to a slick T2. The support from Katie and the COLT crew was immense and it was hard not to charge out at 5.30 mile pace but I set off comfortably and tried to settle into a solid 7.30 ish pace, I could see Bella just up ahead and tried to focus on maintaining a pace slightly slower than her as I knew she had run a 3.06 last year. So far so good but I soon noticed the lack of breeze and the afternoon sun was truly baking, at the first aid station I guzzled an SIS gel and made use of the water and sponges to try and keep myself cool. The plan was to walk the aid stations to make sure I got the nutrition in properly and then get running again soon after. As I was running I spotted Brad and Chris coming in off the bike, must admit I wanted more of a lead I only had about 13 mins on them, they were closely followed by John, Richard and skip all about 20 mins back and Rob (another man tri) about 30 mins back. Again I hadn’t built the lead I hoped for but I was still running well and thought that being conservative on the bike would pay dividends later (how wrong I was!!).
The first turnaround seemed to take an age to come and it was then that I realized the enormity of the marathon, my pace was still solid but the heat was getting oppressive and I feared for my survival later on. I was just about holding position but occasionally some athletes came scampering past (how do they run so fast off a 112 mile bike??). On my way back to transition I saw first Brad then Chris, John, Richard, Skip and Rob………….. the cavalry was coming but I hadn’t lost any significant time yet, everyone was in great spirits and it was fantastic to cheer and high five everyone as we crossed paths. It was great to get back to Transition and get the boost from the COLT supporters, I was on about 18k now but maintaining the pace was getting tough. As I got to about the half marathon point my legs started deteriorating rapidly and I was slowing all the time, the heat was ganging up on me and I was fading fast. My ‘run’ had now become a hobble and the fatigue in my quads was massive, I had my first walk about 3k from the second turnaround and realized that I was now in for a very long marathon. I ran as much as I could and took frequent walking breaks to the turnaround but the walks were getting longer and the runs shorter. After the turnaround everyone had closed on me massively and on the way back to PDC between 26 and 30k they all came past, first Brad then John both looking strong and running well. High fives and cheers were exchanged aplenty, there is much camaraderie to be had in mutual sufferance. Unfortunately I missed Richard and Chris go past they must have got me when I stopped at the toilets, I managed a run/hobble and a smile as I went past the COLT support. You really look forward to seeing some familiar faces when you’re out there for so long!
The first half of the last lap was a bit of a lowpoint I was struggling to run at all and I felt like I was burning in the sun, I constantly looked around to see if the sun was getting lower but it didn’t seem to go anywhere. The course has no shade whatsoever a couple of times I had to stop and sit under some palm trees just to try and cool off a little as it seemed the aid stations and cold sponges were getting further and further apart. Skip looked to be in similar trouble he was walking the last time our paths crossed and it turned out he had stomach trouble and was throwing up throughout the bike and run. John, Chris and Richard all looked to be running well when they passed me on their final leg, those guys really know how to nail the marathon, hats off! Unfortunately Brad had also crumbled and was walking on his last 6k, it was a shame as he had nailed the first 30k and was on for a good finish.
The final turnaround eventually came and with only 6k to go the finish line was becoming a reality, I perked up a little with that thought and with the help of some coke I managed to run a bit more. With about 5k to go skip came past the other way and he appeared to have resurrected himself and was running smoothly, this was enough for my competitive side to resurface and I pushed the last 5k as hard as I could knowing that he could easily catch, I also saw Rob not too far behind either so now I had two to try and hold off. Simon passed me on his first lap he was running well and was on target for a PB in tough conditions, I used him as much as I could to try and maintain a good pace but eventually lost him as he forged ahead and I couldn’t hold his pace.
When PDC came the COLT crew had moved further down and were an unexpected (and very welcome) surprise, with just a k to go Katie ran alongside and I gave her a big hug and a kiss in the final push for home. The finish was AMAZING I trotted down the chute arms in the air and high fived everyone, never have I been so elated to finish a race. John, Chris and Richard were waiting – man hugs all round before ushering me to a chair where I waited for skip and Rob who were very close behind.
It was a fantastic end to an epic race, everyone finished and there were some monstrous PBs laid down. John got another kona slot, he’s now had more of them that I’ve had hot dinners, Chris took an hour off his PB, Richard got 8 mins off his. I managed to miss Valerie out on course but she was next in with a great swim and run followed by Simon with another PB.
Post race I hammered 2 cheeseburgers, chips and half a pizza. I also managed a beer before getting my bike and kit out of transition and hobbling back up to our hotel (avoiding any kerbs which were impossible to negotiate without falling over!). The plan was to dump everything and return to the finish to soak up the atmosphere but after collapsing on my bed I passed out and never woke till 8am Sunday morning.
Sunday was spent eating and drinking, walking was very tough and steps were nigh on impossible. It was a shame we had a flight on Sunday it would have been nice to stay and celebrate a bit more. Two days on and my legs are even worse I have to walk everywhere with straight legs as my quads can’t take any pressure, going downstairs is still exceedingly difficult.
In hindsight it was the best triathlon I have ever done by a huge margin. I have achieved some good goals over shorter distances including winning a middle distance, going sub 2hrs at Olympic distance and going to the age group world champs but IM Lanzarote trumped the lot of them. Performance wise it was way off what I had hoped for I believed sub 10 was perfectly doable but I guess I just don’t have the legs for the extreme long distances, I always suspected I may get found out in the last half of the marathon. I don’t think I did anything far wrong either, my stomach took all the nutrition well and I surprised myself by being so conservative on the bike I could have easily ridden that course significantly faster but at the time I thought I would have been able to utilise all the energy I had saved on the marathon. Not to be!
I don’t think I’ll be doing another Ironman the run is just far too long for me but I am very glad I dabbled at the distance. IM Lanzarote is a truly outstanding event it is easy to see why Richard and Chris go back there every year, the swim is in crystal clear water off a lovely sandy beach, the bike course is tough but very spectacular and the run is lined with thousands of supporters. The organization is on another level and every single volunteer is full of energy and enthusiasm for all athletes from the first to the last. It was also great to be out there with so many other COLT athletes and supporters, thanks to you all it made the day even better. I’ll be sure to return the favour to the club at IMUK where I’ll be there all day cheering as loud as I can!
All that’s left to do now is enjoy this week of gluttony (chippy tea last night followed by 5 crunchies, 6 Mars mini rolls and three tiger beers) before slowly getting back into it and trying to regain the speed for the rest of the season!
Ironman South Africa 2010 by John Towse
race start - 6 months. An ironman? Is that a sensible idea, having completed just 3 triathlons (1 sprint, 2 olympic distance) in 2009? But entering an ironman in the next few months might be a window of opportunity. Andrea & I have found out that in May next year, we might become parents. What's the chance I can train for a ultra distance event if we have child rearing to deal with? We have a spontaneous in depth discussion of the pros and cons with Mugabe and Hairy Calves - in the chilled food section of Sainsburys. Both of them think I should go for it. An April Ironman means training through the winter, but Steve Stretch has shown with some exceptional performances in New Zealand in March that it should be possible. Anyway, British winters are just wet and sometimes windy aren't they?? race start - one week.
Well, you can read all the details on the forum, I should have been in South Africa scouting the course, getting used to the heat and preparing mentally for the event, but with flights grounded across Europe due to volcanic ash, I'm still in Lancaster, spending the weekend trying to phone Air France and re-arrange flights. Me and a few million other passengers race start - 16 hours. After over 28 hours of traveling, my father and I land in Port Elizabeth. I can't quite believe we've arrived. The taxi from the airport is late, but it arrives, and we bundle the bike box and suitcase in the back and head off to Hobie Beach where the event takes place.
race start -14 hours The bike is being assembled by race mechanics outside the expo (who've been alerted during the week to my late arrival) and eventually takes it's place in a service rack looking a bit scruffy alongside the cervelos. There seem to be Zipp & Hed wheels on every bike but mine, there's a serious amount of bike bling on show. Meanwhile, the contents of our suitcase are sprawled across the expo floor - pre-organised bags are being decanted into official transition bags which I've numbered up whilst pyjamas and race kit are on display to folk milling around. I realise I've left some gels at home and dash in to the expo to get some spares, as well as the co2 cartridges you can't take on a plane. A race official suggests I get my bike over to the racking area soon so that they don't lock the gates shut before I arrive. Throw a few things in the suitcase and hurry over. Dad passes some bits and pieces through the fencing so I can set up the bike and transition bags. It gets dark, and I remember just in time I need to find the office where the race timing chips are given out before we leave the event area and try find some dinner. Relief: text Andrea to say we've made it through registration.
race start - 2 hours. Final preparations in the dark. The tires get inflated so I know they're just over 100psi (the pressure will rise when it gets hot later in the day, though), gels are stuck to the bike frame, transition bags are checked once more. I discover the drawstring on the COLT tri shorts isn't that strong - it breaks when I try tighten it.
race start + 3 minutes. We're off, and I'm taking part in my first ironman! The excitement of this is soon overtaken by the task at hand - negotiating the large swell of the sea. I can't see the red marker bouys in the conditions, and I've started to swallow sea water as the swell crashes on top of me and bodies inevitably flail around in the choppy conditions. I later discover they considered shortening the swim course because of the conditions. I've no idea what land marks to sight with, what angle to swim against the sun. Time to concentrate.
33 minutes. Emerging from lap 1. Trying to keep upright as the large waves break strongly near the beach and threaten to whip the legs from underneath you. It's the first time check I get as the announcer describes the event to the crowd. I had no idea what the time might be, felt like we were bobbing around for ages. so that's good. Back into the mayhem for lap 2, at least people have now thinned out, though that means fewer bodies for direction guidance.
1.09. I'm nearly there, I've got through 2 (not very straight!) laps. Get knocked over by the waves again, stagger out the water. Stop momentarily beneath the water shower to gets some sea water off (MP's advice that the sea water can chafe made me realise that a few seconds here was worth it).
1.12 Keep thinking about making a smooth transition. Socks. Shoes. Helmet. Glasses. Volunteer sprays suncream on as I spin round. Note to self. Volunteers everywhere here and will be throughout the course. Keep saying thank you to people; humbled by all this assistance and in general the terrific event organisation.
1.17. Get over mount line and start pedaling the bike. Time to find out what the bike course is like, and what the borrowed wheels can do. Lots of advice that you should never try anything new on ironman race day, and it's important, good advice. However, my bike has been packed and on standby mode for a week and I've not had chance to roll these Roval Star wheels before.
1.50 The course climbs from the sea-front for the first 10 miles or so. But it's not too steep and and I find a strong rhythm and get my heart rate under control. Crest the high point and time to enjoy a descent. It's starting to get warm already and so the breeze at 30 mph is good. Water grabbed from the aid station and dumped into the the aero bottle is spilling out a bit (why can't they engineer a better fit?) but it's having a welcome cooling effect. There's a stretch of road on the 'far end' on the course which is an out and back. See quite a few "packs" of cyclists both on the other side and mine. A number of cyclists seem to be closer to each other than 7m (the no-draft distance). There are referees on motorbikes but they don't seem to be enforcing the no-draft rules especially carefully.
2.17. I'd read that the road surface was rough and slow. Sure, I'd started to encounter some pot holes and speed bumps and rougher surfaces but it still feels much better than the standard Lancashire roads we ride! Start to feel the cleat on my left shoe feeling a bit loose. Can I move the cleat under the shoe, I ask myself? This has happened once before on my tri shoes, when a cleat worked loose. I know before the race I tightened the cleats as much as possible. Try to lock the cleat into place as far back as possible by tensing my foot and holding the shoe with my foot.
3.04. Get back to the start. Feels controlled. Now know what the course looks like. Keep concentrating on taking an energy gel every 20/25 minutes.
3.40. It's now feeling hotter. Uh-Oh. Wheel suddenly feels heavy. Look down. Yup, it's another situation I've not practice yet: Changing a puncture in a race event. Draw to a halt on a very quiet road, but there's a family in a day tent nearby. Two kids come to watch as I fight to get the wheel off, tyre off and tube out. Check the tyre and can't find anything on the underside. Fight to get the new and tight tyre back on. Check the tube is free of the tyre bead. Load up the threaded co2 cartridge. Watch the valve freeze over as the co2 goes in. Then hear a dreaded hiss and it's not from the valve. Can't have checked carefully enough for a pinch flat. Damn (the polite version of the thought in my head). Go through the routine again with my second and final spare tube. Look more carefully at the tyre, bead and rim. This time, the wheel stays inflated. Sigh of relief. Stuff one of the cut tubes in the saddle bag (the emergency self-adhesive patches may come in useful) along with pumps. Chuck a tyre lever - which has snapped- in a side pocket of the tri top. Jump on the bike and get going again. Look at my watches and calculate I've lost about 15 minutes. But at least I'm still riding. Try to concentrate on getting a rhythm back rather than ruminate on the lost time (you can't do anything about what's happened I tell myself), A tyre lever flies out the pocket of my tri top.
4.15. "G'Dink Gdink Gdink". The sound of a tube of Nuun hydration tablets as it self-ejects from a bento box onto the road when I go over a road bump as I fish out an energy gel. Oh well, it's just water in the aero bottle from now on! I notice the road is littered with ejected co2 cartridges, tubes, water bottles, I think I've even seen a tyre on the road somewhere. Any local cyclists could do well to recce the route later and re-stock their cycle spares
5.09. Lap 2 done. Legs getting a bit tired but still strong. Heart rate where it should be. Happy with bike speed. Feel the heat even more though, and the head-wind feels a little bit stronger along the coast ride towards the end of lap 2. Tell myself: stay relaxed.
5.45. Go passed the point where I'd had the puncture last lap. My eye is scanning the road for anything that could deflate the tyre. Keep going.
6.55 Nearly finished and still air in the tyres.The bike course comes back to the start using the same road used for part of the run course, which is coned off. There are distance signs for the run, a reminder there's not far to go. Pass some runners already out. They don't look comfortable. How hot is it? Time to get the feet out of and on top of the shoes for transition soon
7.00 That's it, the bike is done. Sub 5.30 of cycling time, 5.42 on the official clock. Leave the bike with a volunteer, grab a transition bag, and head for the change tent (Afterwards, retrieve the bike to find on the left shoe, one of the three cleat screws is missing, the other two are loose and the cleat is flopping about). Put on run shoes, run cap, slap on suncream*, thank another volunteer who's helping with gear, grab three isotonic energy gels to put in my race belt and head out.
7.03. Start the run. * At least put on sun cream on my face, shoulders and mid-riff. Must have missed my back, between the tri top an tri shorts, or it washed off, because a week later I've got very distinct sunburn marks between the tri top and shorts.
7.04. I've practiced loading my race belt with gels whilst running, but I'm struggling with gels 2 & 3. Drop one of the gels, decide to keep running, get the second one secured.
7.05 The first aid station. Grab a plastic bag of water and a couple of wet sponges. Bite the bag and start of spray the water over my face, head and legs, between taking sips. The water is a relief as it feels really hot to this unaclimitised athlete.
7.10 Next aid station not far away, grab an energy drink as I run through. Its powerade, half filling a small kids' size paper cup. I've practiced running with powerade and coca cola so I know I should tolerate it. But I've done training runs carrying 500ml bottles of drink. Never thought to figure out in detail how many calories I needed and was going to be able to consume using aid station drinks. The answer, I'm about to discover in about 30 mins time, is not enough. With hindsight, a rookie mistake I think.
7.20 It feels hot. But the crowds are fantastic. Lots of cheering and with names on the race numbers, get shouts of "Come on John", "Looking strong, John" (lots of competitors get a shout). It feels like I've overcome the numb-running-legs feeling after the ride and settling into a strong pace (about 7.10 miling) with heart rate at a level I've sustained on long training runs.
7.35ish. The run course turns right off Marine Way and heads off on a very slight uphill towards the University. Suddenly the crowds are gone, it feels even hotter as it's quiet. I can see the heat haze, and I'm starting to feel tired.
7.40. Now thking: Why hasn't the next aid station appeared? Why do I feel so tired at this point on the run? I discover that there are more aid stations at the front end of the course than at the back where the University is.
8.07. One lap completed. It's beginning to dawn on me in my frazzled, travel weary and tired state that I'm getting hungry. I'm now walking through the aid stations to get and gulp more drink, which was not my plan. Try to force myself to run between the aid stations. At least it doesn't feel any hotter than lap 1.
9.00 I'm still not getting enough calories in. I can't quite believe it, but it's almost as if my stomach is rumbling with hunger. I remember in the race info pack, it says that some of the aid stations have salted baby potatoes and bananas. I feel as if I need solid food. Later, I do find a volunteer with a box of potatoes, I grab a big handful, and start chomping whilst walking (I daren't run immediately, I fear I'll get stitch and swap one problem for another).
9.50 Now really tired, and my legs are starting to seize-up, all this the stop-start between aid stations isn't helping, but it has started to cool down a bit as the sun lowers, and I start to feel I'm getting more energy. I see a sign, 10km to go.
10.10 Come on, I say to myself, keep the legs moving, not that far now, the worst bit is over. The legs increasingly feel like planks of wood but I try make them move more quickly.
10.30 No point stopping at the aid stations now, if I walk through them I might never get running again. Press on, I tell myself. 10.35. I know I'm getting close. But where's my dad, with the club flag? Try to focus on the road under my feet, but also keep looking in the crowds for my dad, and the flag.
10.42. Passed 42K, move over from the run loop course to the finish section cones. Really, where is my dad?
10.42. Turn right into where the transition "centre" is. Hey, there's my dad with the flag! Yank the flag from my dad as I go past, who seems to be wresting with a camera. "Thanks dad" I manage to shout as I go past, turn right 5 metres later, there's the red carpet and the finish. Barely time to raise my arms to show the flag. and that's it.
10.43.07. Oh My God, I've finished. Thank God for that, I can stop moving!
Embrunman 2009 by Tom Phillips
3.30pm on Saturday 15th August, the 3.8km swim and the 186km alpine bike ride have been completed and now the moment of truth, Would my recently damaged calf muscle survive any running at all let alone 42kms? A year of preparation had come to a grinding halt 10 days before the Embrunman Long Distance Triathlon when after just 3kms of a gentle training run I ended up hobbling and barely able to walk. I'd torn my Soleus Muscle in my right calf very badly, things were not looking good.
Almost as an afterthought I texted a friend who was a sports physio, his reply came back almost straight away, he was on holiday, but he contacted a local sports doctor who was able to see me the next day. It was a long shot but I thought after so much effort that any help was worth a try. Trevor is a doctor at the cutting edge of sports medicine and he suggested some autologous blood injections, basically taking some of my own blood and immediately injecting it into the damaged muscle. I was of course a bit nervous about somethign that sounded a bit like doping, but this technique is above board and just a way of speeding up the body's own repair mechanism. Two injections over 4 days, and a visit to a sports physio at least gave me some hope of attempting the event. However I was still barely able to walk at the COLT club training swim 5 days before the event.
Wednesday saw myself and Alistair plus our support crew (Emma, Matty and Alfie) head out to Embrun, getting 5 of us plus two bikes and camping gear into one hire car was the first challenge, and after an hour of repacking we drove out of Geneva airport and after a night with friends near Grenoble we arrived at Embrun, a small town that for one weekend becomes the centre of attention in French Traithlon.
What makes this event different from any other long distance triathlon is the brutal 186 kms bike ride over the 2300 metre COl D'Izoard close to the French Italian border. That alone would be enough for most fit cyclists, but the ride also takes in two other major climbs and many other shorter hilly sections that add up to over 3100 metres of climbing, in potentially baking hot summer weather. Especially brutal is the 350 metre hill that weaves its way above the town just 8kms from the end of the ride. What makes this event special is the amazing support all around the course, and the many sections of closed roads that allow you to ride the alpine roads without oncoming traffic. It's as close as you can get to feeling like a rider in the Tour de france, which often comes over these roads.
Of course the day started much earlier, at 4am we sat outside the tent eating rice pudding and drinking coffee, not talking much, both in our own little bubbles of contemplation. We thought we were perhaps a bit early, but on arrival at the transition (we had left our bikes in place the night before) the floodlit compound was a hive of activity. We both rechecked our equipment and handed in our food bags for the Col D'Izoard pick up and the half marathon pick up points.
"Your the Brits" a cheery voice greeted us. It was Simon who had entered the event last year but failed to complete it because he overslept and had arrived just as the swim was finishing! (He was allowed to do the run and the ride, but that must have been very frustrating!). Simon told us that Embrunman was a really big thing, you are almost revered by the spectators and the locals even for attempting this event. Simon was the only other UK based rider attempting the course this year, apart from Stephen and Bella Baylis of course, both expected to be challenging for first places.
SWIM 3.8kms
5.50 am and the women set of and we walk down the blue carpet towards the lake. Being hardened to cool (freezing?!) British waters the 22C waters of the large boating lake felt very welcoming and the red flashing lights of the lead boat was to be the moving target for the 1000 swimmers in the main field. After some grim experiences in UK events being trapped in the middle of a flailing pack of competitors I decided to hold back and swim on the very left of the field, and this proved to be a perfect choice. I could "sight" on the many canoeists shepherding us around the flashing beacons on the buoys and got an amazingly clear swim, only having to tread water around a couple of sharp turns, and only one kick in the goggles. The darkness ebbed away and a bright band of sunlight hit the peaks to the East of the lake. Being able to concentrate on technique rather than survival was great and although I'd never previously swum 3.8 kms in one go, the finishing ramp was within sight after what seemed no time at all. Perhaps the warm water helped but the normal heavy legged feeling was absent as I walked up the ramp to great applause and headed into transition. Forcing myself to concentrate I really had to make sure that I set myself up well for the long ride ahead. In a sprint event I take less than a minute to do the swim/bike transition, today I invested 8 minutes in preperation, and headed out into the long shadows of sunrise ready to tackle perhaps the the most ambitious bike ride of my life.
Swim 1 hour 17 mins
BIKE 186kms (3200 m ascent)
Despite still being 6.30 am the temperature was already around 22C and the initial loop of 40kms with 600 metres of ascent saw everyone riding with high spirits and excitement. Surprisingly, there were a number of road side casualties with punctures, broken gears, etc. My pulse rose to 155 pretty quickly (88%) although I felt like I was taking it pretty easily, I knew I'd settle down to an easier pace but initally just rode on autopilot and enjoyed having fresh legs and amazing views, almost every house and "hameau" (hamlet) had groups of cheering suporters even at this time. The first return past Embrun was through a corridor or cheering supporters, amazing! Now the long approach to the Col D'Izoard. Being a much better cyclist than a swimmer I was now gainign places, on flatter sections sometimes overtaking large groups of of ten or more in one fell swoop - very satisfying! Every 20kms there is a main feed station, so you can take on fresh bottles of water, isostar, or coke, as well as a wide selection of food, I chose water or isostar and bananas, and consumed energy gels from my top tube bag avery 40 mins or so. 70 kms into the ride and Simon recognised me as I caught him up on the spectaular Guillestre Gorge section, we chatted a while and I took some photos of him much to the amusement of the other riders around. Simon had completed the swim in around 1.08 hours and from now until the very end of the race we would trade places. On the gentle incline I left Simon behind for a while, the Izoard was now beckoning and sections of hairpins on the appraoch roads led onto some steep long straight climbs in the full midday sun.
A slight tailwind meant there was no breeze and again I was struggling to keep my pulse within reasonable limits. Only when the first hairpin of the main climb arrived was there any relief, the sudden turn into the breeze was a great relief and the gradient of the hairpin bends was far more friendly. Suddenly you emerge from the the treeclad slopes into the barren moonscape like environment of the last few kms. Even more cheering supporters here, "courage", "Chapeau", "allez", every rider getting superb encouragement from th. appreciative spectators. Just before the final summit hairpins the road descends a little way through huge rock pinnacles and giant scree slopes, A statue to Coppi and Bobet at the roadside reminds you of the history this col has. Now it's time to soak in the feeling of elation at reaching this high point at 2350 metres, but there is not enough time to appreciate it all as the feeding station demands your attention. I hear my number called out and my food bag is handed to me whilst I exchange my drinking bottles and stuff yet more bannanas into my pockets.
From being in sight of many riders on the slow ascent your are now stretched out by speed on the descent. Even though I am used to steep descents the unknown road demands my full attention, though my GPS shows upcoming bends which is very useful to avoid overshooting some of the more severe switchcbacks. The 15km descent takes just 15 minutes, and with no oncoming traffic (like 90% of the ride) this is pure pleasure, although the slight headache from overheating meant I had to concentrate on drinking steadily to rehydrate. It was somewhat of a shock to ride through the deserted streets of Briancon and then head "down the valley" into a desiccating hot headwind. In many ways the toughest part of the ride was yet to come. The route back from Briancon to Embrun involved several long climbs and descents up and down the valley sides, along narrow traffic free roads. Increasingly I saturated myself with water from my water bottles, which I refilled at every opportunity, the hot headwind now really starting to sap my strength. Next came the technical descent to a small airfield where the pre-race brief had warned of sharp turns and gravel, then a short length of main road where huge queues of traffic were being held back by police and volunteers. Embrun came back into view at the 180 km point, but still a final climb awaited, sharp hairpins taking now tired riders through the houses above the town. Really great support here spurred me on, with a cooling hosepipe, and even a watering can offered by the locals, and finally a enthusiastic bugle player announced the top and the final freewheel for 4kms back into transition.
I'd put thoughts of the run out of my mind pretty much, but now the moment of truth was approaching, would I be able to complete 42kms, in the heat of the afternoon?
Bike 8 hours 3 minutes.
Run 42kms (400 metres of ascent)
Back in transition after a great welcome it was fairly quiet, the field now well spread out. A couple of volunteers offered me a massage, so whilst sat down in my chair getting items ready my legs were receiving some welcome treatment! Once changed into running gear the moment of truth had now arrived. My ploy was to change my running style to avoid straining my calfs, so I'd inserted 2cms of extra padding in my running shoe heels and was aiming to run flat footed rather than on my toes. Exiting transition the winning male was running towards me just 1km from the finish, (he would soon be 20,000 Euros better off). The first of 4 loops around the swimming lake went OK, with no signs of any problems, and gradually I settled down and forgot about the calf and thought more about the seemingly endless run.
Breaking it up into segements seemed the best "mind game" and without a watch to remind me of the minutes and seconds I tried to just keep a comfortable pace and posture, and soak in the support and atmosphere. Children held out their palms for you to touch them as you passed, "Embrummen" are really held in great esteem it seems and once when I dropped my sunglasses at a feeding station a young helper instantly found them and handed them back to me with an amazing sense of urgency! Simon passed me once again whilst I was fiddling with my camelback, and shortly I caught him again and exchanged brief notes. 10kms came after an hour and eight minutes, I was happy to settle for that. Next I counted a third of the route completed as the temperature seemed to soar (probably high 30's air temperature, but feeling hotter still in the full sun). Even some of the French competitors were flaking out by the road side, some with medical crew on hand. A medical support crew on one section asked me if I was OK (did I look ready to collapse?). I asked for some sun cream, but they didn't have any.
The three leaders in each class had riders in front of them on bikes to prime the crowds, but the support that I and every other competitor got was just as amazing. Unofficial water and food stops were also welcome, some with huge buckets of cool water in which to fill your hat before drenching yourself others with cold sponges to shove down your neck. Oddly going downhill was the hardest bit due to my thigh muscles, already tired from the bike ride now having to power me around the run (the change in running style causing this transfer of load). Still I was moving and soon I was approaching 21kms and the return past the finishing line to collect a token neckband to indicate I was on my second lap. My second 10kms had slowed a bit to 1 hour 12 minutes, but being on the second lap was a huge boost. On the run I gradually sipped isostar and water from my camelback I also consumed more bananas and rice pudding, but the sheer volume of energy gels, bananas, and fluid now consumed seemed to cause my stomach to go on strike. I had to remind myself to drink more, to avoid overheating.
Suddenly I heard a friendly voice from behind me, Simon had caught me up again and he had support from his wife and son who were riding some of the sections along side him. His wife then accompanied me for most of the last section as Simon had support from a local marathon runner who volunteered to run with him. Once again I changed places several more times with Simon but the presence of someone to talk to made the kms pass far more easily. Even though my legs felt at times as if they were ready to collapse under me, I just knew I must not stop or I'd seize up and that would be it. So passing feed stations I walked and grabbed for items rather than stopping. Just 10kms to go now and I was pretty sure I would make that, even though I'd slowed to 1 hour 16 mins for the last 10 kms. At times I barely seemed to be shuffling, but my pace actually held up over the final sections around the swimming lake once more. Some runners on this section were heading out without the neckband, they still had the full run to go. I was also thinking of Alistair, despite seeing Simon on many occaisions, I had not seen Alistair since the start (I had started the bike ride just a few seconds before he finished the swim), I hoped that he was still going strong.
Not far now, just a couple of kms, then the run around the transition area before the final stretch of blue carpet and the finish line. Emma, Alfie and Matty were there to cheer me on along with hundreds of other supporters. 14 hours and 30 mins after starting I had made it. Over the line my medal and finisher's teeshirt were thrust into my hands and I staggered around barely able to think what to do! I saw a chair and tried to sit down, This I found impossible as spasms in my thighs prevented me lowering myself down even a few inches. Then I saw Laura, one of the officials who spoke English and who we had talked to the day before. She seemed surprised to see me (you have finished alreadY?!) "Go for a massage" she said and pointed the medical tent where a welcome lie down for a few minutes and a massage really helped.
Run time 4 hours 58 mins
Daylight faded away as I waited with Emma for Alistair, the other COLT member. Figures appeared out of the darkness to rapturous applause. Then there was Alistair, looking good up the final few metres, meaning we had both completed our first Ironman distance race well inside the cut-off time. All too soon it was the next morning and we were making our way with tired legs to the crystal clear waters of the swimming lake, to cool our aching muscles and compare our experiences before a lakeside coffee and croissant. There was a lot to remember!
-----------------------
Thanks to Iain Coleand Trevor Fleet for healing me so quickly!, the Sports Physio in Milnthorpe, the support crew of Emma, Matty and Alfie for being so patient, Jill and Paul for a stop over on the way down to Embrun, and of course to Barbs for allowing me to put in so much of the required training time over the previous few months.
Thanks also to COLT - without some of those tough training sessions and encouragement I think it would not have been possible.
Ironman UK 2009 by John Carr
Obvious statement but what a bloody long day. Managed to get a reasonable amount of sleep the night before, however no alarm clock was needed. I woke naturally exactly a minute before my alarm was meant to go off at 3am. Last year at Sherbourne I was dancing around the B+B at 2am munching porridge like there was no tomorrow. This year I am a little older and wiser as I definitely knew what lay ahead of me. I also wanted to make sure a wasn’t running around like a blue-arsed fly wasting my energy like I did last year. 2008 was done on pure adrenaline and emotion, this year I really wanted to race with some level of control that Coach had been trying to teach me. Im a bit of a geek but my breakfast was weighed out exactly to give me 3000 calories, nerves got the better of me and I managed to squeeze only ¾ down my gullet.
Jumped in the car and put on the standard CD that I listen to before every race and early morning training session with the Big Mac. A combo of Eminem, Jay-Z and some drum n bass. Good job Honda’s are built pretty solid as it got a fair thumping from me drumming my fists and screaming some motivational thoughts out. As COLT has a young audience I won’t repeat what was said but imagine and a mixture of Gordon Ramsay, Captain Mason and an All Blacks pre-game Hakka.
Arrived into transition to find the fellow COLTS were also in the sheep-pen cacking themselves. Asked Dave Wilson if I could use his bike pump to make sure the tyres were at 100 bar?????!!! No John its 100 psi. Seemed to make everyone laugh and lighten the atmosphere for a couple of seconds.
5.45am and everyone was heading down to the reservoir, learned last year that IMUK like making everyone tread water for at least 10 minutes. Decided to hang around the back of the queue and get in with a few minute to spare. Glad I did as the water was pretty cold and I didn’t want to set off in the washing machine freezing my arse off. Placed my self at the very front in the middle of the pack.
‘Make sure you give it some beans and get some clear water, then settle into a cruise’
For me this is the best part of the day, I love open water and it went past a little too quickly. Wanted it to be as relaxed as possible, so that I could do what I had been taught. Get faster as the day went on. The only annoyance I had was someone in front of me who had the most violent style I have ever seen. Don’t think I have ever seen so much kicking it was like swimming behind a P&O Ferry! Decided to drop a gear and get past him. 1hr 8 minutes later I was out and jogging up into transition.
Next up the bike. This where I really wanted to make an improvement, last year cycling was embarrassing. I remember vividly an October morning last year that thought me a BIG lesson. I went out with the ‘3 tenors’ (Captain, JK and Big Mac) for what was meant to be an easy 3 hour ride. After going up Jubilee and then through the Hodder valley I was chewing off my handle bars trying to keep up with them. I had no climbing strength and I couldn’t decend any quicker than 30 mph before jumping on the brakes, when I got back home I collapsed by the fridge scoffing jam straight out of the jar like some lycra-clad Winney The Poo. Basically I was crap. Thanks to a lot of Thursday morning rides with the Big Mac and some TT with Kent Valley R.C I had built a reasonable foundation to hopefully do a quicker bike split.
Somehow managed to lose my drinks bottle on one of the bumps heading out of the Anderson Centre. Was a bit concerned as it contained my energy drink that was mixed up into a syrup of 1500 calories so that I could squeeze it into my aero bottle and sip as I needed. Oh well Gatorade and Powerbars it is then. Also munched on a pack of ride shots every lap and after 80 miles I had 4 of my favourite Smart 1 gels. Don’t drink tea or coffee at all so these hit me like a ton of bricks. 54miles to go and I heard my back wheel go ‘ping’ stopped to find my brand new Sram wheel has lost a spoke, consequently buckling the wheel big time. Carried on and thought about what I could do. Felt the wheel rubbing the break so I stopped again to fiddle with the break. Saw John Knapp in Addlington he assured me the wheel will be fine. Took his word for it and finally decided to get an allen key and open the back break wide open. Learned that it is possible to ride with no breaks, all fear of crashing had been forgotten.
‘If I have to carry this bike I will finish’
Lost about 20 minutes in total but was happy to be still in the race and starting the marathon after a 6hr 30min split. This is the moment where I did start thinking about possible finish time. I always found it a dangerous game to play when people ask you ‘what time you going for?’ I always like to answer ‘better than last years 13hours 10min’
There is nothing noble in being superior to others, True nobility is being superior to ones previous self.
But if you looked at my training room and PC at work you will find a lot of post-it notes with every target for 2009 to constantly remind me of why I do this. I honestly thought I had 11hrs 30min within me. After the wheel incident that was only possible with a 3hr 30min marathon. My target all this year had been to run a 4hr split. Better get your foot down John Boy.
Camelbak on and 8 Smart 1 gels to munch every 20-30 minutes. Strapped my right knee up and put on my compression stockings that the Beca had bought me. This is where I would find out what I was made of. Over the 3 months I had been coached by Mark Walsh on what has felt like a crash course to kick start me into action after a 4 month spell of doing complete laziness. He had really pushed my legs to the limit and I am glad he did. I was expecting every ache and pain, it wasn’t a surprise and I knew it was there. The run course had no mile markers so pacing by time and distance was going to be a challenge. I decided that my heartrate was good at 145bpm, so keep it there and don’t stop. With around 13miles to go I noticed my stopwatch had been stopped. Oh bugger now my timing is knackered!
Got to the turn for the final 8 miles at 4.40pm. So I thought if I can cross the line before 6pm that would be respectable 12hrs. I nailed the last couple of gels and gave it everything I had. My right knee was now impossible to ignore but I thought unless my leg drops off there is no reason why I can’t do this. I got into my little bubble and thought of nothing but a constant count of 1-2-3-4. Noticed a few athletes in front that were in my age group, was pretty chuffed to tick off all 3 of them in the last few miles. Finally I can actually run a marathon, what a day to find this out.
The support on the run was unreal, you can have all the gadgets and gels in the world but when someone shouts out ‘Come on COLT!’ or ‘Go on John Carr!’ from Captain Mason it is literally indescribable. Il will be honest but I cried A LOT on that final lap. Came out of Queens Park and up the side streets at 6.04pm, oh well John you gave it a good crack but its not going to be sub 12 this year. Still pushed hard to make it as quick as possible. Saw Big Mac jnr (aka Jessica) who cheered me on, gave her the Camelbak as I didn’t want the lads to see me crossing the finish line looking like a mountain biker! I have had some stick for it over the past year!.
Came round the final corner to the best sight in the world a massive 60 ft screen with the camera zoomed on me and the clock reading 11hrs 53minutes! I had done it sub 12hrs, we must have started late. You beauty! As quite a few COLT supporters saw I went ballistic. My mate Gareth who was a volunteer on the finish line spotted me giving me a pat on the back ‘ You did it mate’.
11 hours 53 minutes 23 seconds! Ave It!
I was given the standard medal, t-shirt and to top it all off the elusive Ironman hat. I had no idea I was in the top 250, it all got a bit too much. I fell on my arse and cried like those idiots on X Factor! What a woman.
In hindsight I got a little more than I felt I deserved. From January to April I was in a pretty low spot thinking I should pull out of Ironman as I wont beat last years time. I had worked very hard for the last three months with Mark Walsh who is by far the best £40 a month I will ever spend. If there is anyone reading this who wants to hear some words of wisdom all I got is this….
There are no miracles or flukes in Ironman, if you’re a Pro or last in your age group all that indicates is how much quality and effort you put in. I wont happen over night. If you want to see what you are really capable of, get a coach. For the cost of a meal out with the missus it’s a bargain.
Thank you to everyone in COLT who supported us at Bolton, it’s a very special feeling knowing that your part of a team. I am sure that COLT will continue to grow and the famous black and white kit will become a symbol of success striking fear into the hearts of all that try and take us on !!! Tri Preston??? Who are ya, who are ya ! ha ha
Ironman UK 2009 by Mark Hammond
What a journey……
E-9 months: Middle of a nightshift after 3 years of talking, decide to send the email to the boys Loz & Dave ‘Ive decided to enter the big one’!!!
E-8 months: Cancel that, buying a house project instead….
E-6 months: House project fallen through…. Need something to pick me up. Yes, still places left in IMUK; I’m back in the game. The rollercoaster begins.
E-1 week: Tired, de-motivated, nervous, hungry, knees aching, head aches; how can tapering feel so bad?
E-1day: Registered, bike racked; very nervous, just want to get it done. Get to bed 2100 hrs read my SAS book for an hour (figured they must have it harder than me), light out, still not tired, heart feels like its bouncing off the ceiling, sweat pouring off me; really need to get some sleep. 2 paracetamol & codeine down the neck read for another 30 mins finally feeling drowsy.
E-0 IMUK 2009: Alarm goes off 0245 hrs; nooo feel like haven’t slept a wink. Say goodbyes my darling Sarah, hope will not be too long before see her again. Picked up 0315 hrs, Rocky 4 blasting through the speakers; oh yes feeling back in the zone. Get to Bolton, its cold even before getting anywhere near the water. Touch base with the boss Mason and fellow COLTS, lots of nervous energy flowing.
SWIM: The start is delayed by a few minutes it’s dark, cold, long and deep. Got a nice rhythm going, nice and steady-it’s a long way. Get to first turn point, blimey the wash from other swimmers is a lot choppier than I’d expected, shortened arm stroke and back on it again. Lap 1 done-crikey it’s a long way. Two thirds into lap 2 pass a couple of the pink hat brigade (pro’s); yes-calm it down. Crawl out of the drink marshals help me up, walk up the steep ramp (too tired to run) stones stabbing feet. Get to T1, half dressed and Davey boy enters changing area (awesome swim mate).
BIKE: Out of transition bike feels good, down causeway 40mph with crowds both sides, spot Sarah and my parents, well happy now!! 15 secs later the hill gives me a reality check, there’s Stretch-can’t let him down, keep going. Top of hill comes quicker than expected, looking forward to descent with road closed (can give it big licks); woooooo 46.4mph, buzzing. Left at Belmont, oh no, head wind all the way, check heart rate ooops 171 bpm (limit was 160bpm). Feeling sorry for myself then fellow COLTs part way up last hill of lap 1 get me back on track (like music to my ears)- cheers Andy & the Knapps.
Lap 2-keep to the plan: HR <160 bpm, gel every 30 mins, drink, drink, drink and powerbar every aid station. Looking forward to the mighty COLT support crew again- fantastic they got me up the hill.
Lap 3 legs getting fatigued, back hurting, ass killing, dying to get off the bike. Big boss Mason comes past looking strong. Last 20 miles seem to take forever.
RUN: Out of transition start running and the Cracker coming in off the bike (lots of shouting at each other). Worried going too quick, need to slow it down-it’s a long, long way. Oh know 1.5hrs down, I’m entering the world I’ve been dreading, feels like somebody has put lead in my shoes. If I walk for a bit nobody will notice…. Next minute my family and friends shouting at me, can’t let them down, can’t walk-keep going. 20mins later the life saver Stretch keeps me going again and clarifies the route. Last lap get to aid station, not going on coke yet, Danny boy thanks for getting me up the hill. Next aid station so looking forward to the coke and a caffeine rush…. Noooo it must have been caffeine free, the long needed rush never came. Then I got to the park for the last time and I’d swear you’d hear the mighty COLT supporters in Lancaster (brilliant). Get to marshall and he asked what lap, I grin as I say 2nd lap and he directs me left turn, next marshall I ask him how far- less than 1 mile. WOW THIS IS IT MARK. Last 200 metres Sarah & Dad shouting and run me along, I’m speeding up, hell I’m sprinting, hell still got 50 metres to go….. Can hear so many people shouting, it feels good can see my time on finish line.
They announce my name and tell me I’m an IRONMAN wooooooow IT FEELS SO ACE.
A big thank you to all the COLT support on the day I definitely wouldn’t of done it without you all. A massive thank you to the previous COLT Ironmen (Richard, Chris, JK, Val, Andy Mc, Andy Holgate, JC) that offered me a whole wealth of knowledge & experience; I only hope I can do the same for people in the future.
TOTAL TIME: 11 hrs 1 min POSITION 83rd.
Ironman UK 2009 by Loz Loxam
A new respect for marathons...
Those words mean a lot to me. Its a bit like being beaten by the toughest lad at school but in the end, if you stand up to him you kind of find a mutual respect for one another. I kind of feel like that after the UK Ironman.
The morning seemed to go to plan. I woke at 3am (amazing, I even had to train to get up earlier, steadily going to bed half an earlier each day & getting up in half an hour earlier each morning), was picked up and after what seemed like the longest drive of my life arrived at a dark Rivington.
The walk to T1 was long, dark & cold and I was much happier once I was starting to get the suit on. I'd managed to do some last minute changes to my transition strategy which really helped me stay calm. What with all the rain I'd dug out some old trainers so I had a fresh pair to get me to T1 & another pair to get me to the road with the bike without getting my tri shoes covered in mud (my 2nd pair died with great honour for a great cause!).
The swim had gone well and although I should really of been quicker I was happy I was on the bike without any mishaps. The bike seem to fly by, I think due to the fact I was lucky enough to know the course. My trusty steed did me proud esp seeing I gave £600 for her 5yrs ago & it gave me great pleasure dropping a fella who had been trying to pass me for the first 2 laps. It was anything against him it was the fact one of his wheels alone was worth more than my baby! It just goes to show the engine is the most important part of any bike.
The first lap I was on fire but going into the 2nd lap I got the dreaded stomach cramps & they never left me until I got on the run. I'm not sure why the came as during my training I didn't suffer from them. It didn't ruin the ride for me it just made me sit up more rather than going aero.
The run. Who ever invented marathon's? Why couldn't they make it 20miles? I've done a few half marathon's and although they were tough they didn't break me. Ironman marathon's, now that broke me. The only way I could describe how I was feeling was I felt like an old banger driving down a very long cobbled road and slowly but surely parts start to fall off. I'm sure I lost a knew and an ankle on that run!
I have to admit, I just didn't have that distance in my legs but I have learnt so much in my 13hrs & 26minutes & after analysing my times (yep, you know the feeling) I know I could cut my time by 30mins with out training any harder or any longer. I've definitely learnt from my mistakes...
Respect the marathon
the way I see it, I can only go quicker next time....
Ironman UK 2009 by Simon Devereux
After the disappointment of pulling out after 18miles on the run at Sherborne in 2008 I had pretty much decided that my one successful venture into IM in 2005 would have to be it. That would have remained the case had Steve S not texted me in December as I was on the way home from my works Christmas do with the news that this year’s IM was to be in Bolton. It’s amazing how a gallon of bitter can dull the memory, so no sooner than I had got home a few clicks of the mouse and I was entered.
I’m afraid a 20 hour training week is out of my reach, so my plan was to do enough to get round. If I was to score myself on how well training had gone, it would probably have to be a 7 out of 10. Prior to the race I was reasonably happy with the bike, running is usually my strongest discipline, but my main concern was the swim. Having had cramp on the swim at Sherborne in 2005, (and on numerous occasions since in the pool) it has become something of an issue for me.
Anyway in brief the race:
Swim:
A new record even for me, cramp in my lower calf as I crossed the start line, hung onto the end of a canoe for a minute thinking that was the end of my IM comeback. Captain’s advice, RELAX, eventually it passed off. I looked up and could see the field disappearing into the distance. Even at my slow pace I managed to catch the back end of the field. Rounded the first turn, seemed to take an age to get to the second buoy. On the edge of getting cramp a number of times but managed to keep going, what a relief to get out of the water. A kind helper suggested a foil blanket would be a good idea as I shivered whilst trying to get my bike gear on, eventually got out on the bike. Swim time 1hr 52mins. (30 mins slower than my 2005 swim time)
Bike:
Unspectacular and a little disappointed with my time having ridden the course a dozen times. (I was hoping for less than 7 hours). Still after my escapade on the swim I was just glad to be still in the race. Fantastic COLT support on the way round at various points that kept me going. 14 gels on the bike, 8 bottles of high five 4:1, too many pee stops (sorry the speed I go can’t get my head round the idea of peeing whilst on the bike. I think you have to be wearing a pointy helmet to justify doing that) Bike time 7hrs 18mins
Run/Shuffle:
Got off the bike, felt ok, ups and downs. Only walked on the uphill bits in the park and some aid stations.There’s no doubt that since it started COLT, has gathered momentum and for me yesterday encapsulated everything that is good about being a member. As I think back about the race and run in particular, it seemed like every time I got to a low ebb I would be met by a shout of “COME ON COLT”. The support from numerous people at different parts of the course was exceptional. Many of those who were there didn’t have relatives in the race and were there to support their fellow COLT members. I’m sure I speak for all those who raced in saying a big THANKS! Run 4hrs 36mins
TOTAL TIME 14hrs 10mins 44
Undoubtedly there will be a lot said about issues around the venue/organisation /mud, which I will leave to the Captain to articulate. For me strangely none of that seems to matter now.
Ironman UK 2009 by Chris Wild
The background
In 2007 I did my first Ironman UK, and it didn’t go quite to plan; I went into the race with a very tender left IT band, which finally tore 11 miles into the marathon. 3½ hours walking along a dual carriageway on a cold Dorset day was not what I’d dreamt of, but I finished in a respectable 12:25ish. I presumed I wasn’t up to 2 Ironman races in one year (leave that to the tough guys, John, Richard, and Steve). So 2008, I stuck to just the one. Come race weekend last year, despite awful conditions, I really missed being part of the team. 2009 was going to be different. I didn’t imagine how differently it would unfold.
I remember getting a text from Loz, late November 2008, whilst sat in the dentist’s waiting room - Ironman UK 2009 will be in Bolton. Bolton? Lancashire? Oh My God. Get home; enter. I’m so excited; and with our own club looking like becoming a reality, this was going to be awesome. Pretty soon, we’ve got a thriving new club, with 15 members signed up for the race. There’s definitely going to be some healthy rivalry, and a bit of pressure for the old guard to perform. Ironman Lanzarote didn’t go quite to plan (they never do), having tweaked my knee due to a maladjusted new saddle (fool). Still, scraped a new PB, and a sub 11:30, so overall overjoyed; main course completed - now to focus on the dessert, IMUK.
10 weeks to prepare. I’d earned a week off; 9 weeks - get out on the bike. People go past me up the hills like I’m in treacle; I get most of them on the descent, but really need to work on the climbing. Luckily I’m working in Carlisle, and although its long days on site, the weather’s great, and I find a good hilly bike ride into the north lakes to do 2 nights during the week. Working away messes up the swim sessions, and my knees are still a bit sore to run. 6 weeks to go, time to run. Monday night, good 4 mile run with a friend; legs feel fine. Time to ramp it up. Not sure racing the half at ‘Day in the Lakes’ a good idea though. I’ll run some more and decide on Friday.
The crisis:
Wednesday 24th June 2009: some of the lads having a kick about in the park after work. I’ll join in, for a bit of speedwork, core work and fun, then I’ll run for 10k afterwards. It not serious, just a good way to get the HR up. I wuss out of anything approaching a tackle, and people know not to clatter me. I’m a feeble vegetarian after all! A quick sprint down the wing, burning off everyone - this is great. Cross the ball (useless attempt on goal), tumble over. My left knee pops. No bother it does it occasionally, straighten slowly and it’ll click back; really must sort my IT band out so its stops pulling my knee cap out of alignment. It wont go back, and I can’t straighten my leg! Give it a few minutes, a few stretches and manipulations, but no joy. Off to A&E. 3 hours later, I’ve had an X-ray, which shows its not broken or dislocated (my probable diagnosis - pop it back in, I’ll be fine!). The junior doctor has no clue, gives me a pair of crutches, and an appointment for the fracture clinic the following morning.
Very nice bloke in the clinic. Thankfully he has a mate into extreme sports, so knows where I’m coming from and what triathlon is. Forget ADIL on Sunday. We talk medical history, he pushes and bends my leg through various levels of pain, and diagnoses a medial meniscal tear. It appears I’ve had a small tear for a while - hence the popping, which is nothing to do with a displaced knee cap after all. Now I’ve got a big tear, and part of the torn bit is stuck in the joint, preventing it straightening. Two choices - keyhole surgery, or wait and see. He thinks the fragment may remove itself, and would like to wait 12 days and re-assess then, when there will be less swelling and blood (nice). I’m keen to avoid surgery, as all I can think about is ‘5½ weeks to Ironman’. I feel sick - I’m properly injured, and I’ve messed up the season, if not my knee for good. I’m reliant on other people to do stuff for me, and I get thrown off site! I’m not used to not being in control.
‘Impossible is nothing’
(One of World Triathlon Corporation’s strap lines/ merchandising gimmicks). I had obviously asked if I could race in under 6 weeks (I didn’t mention the distance, for fear of ridicule and hearing the wrong answer), and the reply was ‘doubtful, but if things go well, you might be OK, if we don’t need to operate. Right, that’s it; its medically possible, so stay optimistic. I went to the open water swim session the following Monday, to confess my stupidity; how many times have I been told that triathlon and football is asking for trouble? Its feeling a bit easier by this point, and I’m optimistic its now just swelling that’s stopping me straightening my leg. By my appointment the following week, I can straighten it, and I’m hobbling around without crutches. The doc is pleased that surgery isn’t required, and that I can get back on the bike. I can swim with my ankles taped together, and can cycle on the flat without any problem. 3 weeks to go. Time to see if I can climb sheep House Lane. I get a very relieved ‘yes’, but the whole lap is 25 minutes slower than previously, but who cares? I’m still limping, so haven’t contemplated running. One step at a time, so to speak! 2 weeks to go - try two laps; the first one goes well, but half way round the second, I’m exhausted. I realise I have two new problems; my endurance base is vanishing, and my appetite hasn’t abated, I’ve been comfort eating, and I’m 6kg over race weight! 10 days to go. A test run; run for a minute, walk for a minute. I think I can be off the bike by 9 hours into the race, so I reckon I can get through the marathon in time. By Sunday I’m running 5 to 1 at proper race pace. 1 week to go - bring it on!!!
Race week
Take it easy; I want my knee rested. I spend all my spare time shopping and printing T-shirts, so no running or cycling. I didn’t even clean my bike until Saturday morning. Manage to get to a pre-race swim on Friday, and its disturbing - a lap took me 45 minutes! Time to rethink race times. I was relieved to hear other people think the course is long; I thought I was just fat and unfit!
Bike check-in and race briefing are chaotic. I’m lucky that I have no race ambitions, so I can just take all the upheaval in my stride - it’s the same for everyone, what will be, will be, and its all out of my control.
Race day.
2:15 alarm. Drag myself out after pressing snooze twice. Tea, cereal, and a bottle of PSP. Check I’ve got everything, and off to Reebok; I’m wide awake. Parked up, and straight on the bus at 3:45. Very impressed. Rob’s waiting outside, so he can get a later bus with his girlfriend. He looks slightly nervous, but I can’t attract his attention. Bus sets off, then stops at the Millstone Pub - we’ve got to carry everything 1 mile up the hill to transition. Cheers. I’m glad I got the early bus. My knee twinges; maybe compression leggings weren’t a good idea. Really easy passage through number marking, sort my bike bottles, attach shoes to bike (not for speed, just for mud avoidance) then chill. I love this part; standing calmly watching the rushing about, knowing I’m ready. Its warm and calm. Wetsuit on, find some COLTs. 8 or 9 of us meet up by the fence; the banter is good, the Captain looks focused. People are already recognising me as the ‘guy in 220 magazine’. It happened about 10 times around the course - its tough being a celebrity! Time to go.
We get held on the footpath for 20 minutes, and get onto the jetty at 5:55. The announcer insists we’re off at 6, so get in. Great, no point hanging around. I normally head wide right, but that’s the entry, so get tight in on the left - this could be fun! 10 minutes later, people are still coming down the path; I’m treading water and cold. Finally, the three minute warning, and I’ve got space. Weird.
We’re off. Plenty of space; too much space, I need a tow! Busy round the top buoy, but good humoured - I must be slow. 15 minutes on the watch - much better than Friday. I count the huge buoys down the course, and get into a lazy rhythm. Half way round the second lap, I realise it’s a bit too lazy and increase the stroke rate and start overtaking people. This is brilliant. Out in 1:20, my worst ever, but happy with that. Smooth transition, get the bike, hose the mud off my feet, and get them in my shoes just before the descent to the causeway. The first climb hurts; all that time in the water means my muscles are cold, and there’s no opportunity to warm them up. There’s a guy on a steel frame, with a 73 tooth chainring grinding up. Must be a yank! Great to see Steve at the top. Lost 3 gels out my pocket at Belmont, rethink nutrition. Saw Fi with the flag at the M65 turn; fantastic. No sign of Dad, something must be up. The knee is tender but OK, but my left back/ is sore. And A wasp has stung my neck. Good job I’m not allergic. Pace is good, keep the HR sensible. Don’t bite when guys go past. It was really nice to see Phil and the Tri Preston crew manning the 2nd aid station. Organised bottles, and encouragement too. Thanks guys.
By the time I’m over the M6, I’ve got guys on my back wheel; they’re not going to qualify, so who cares, but it still bugs me! I get the turn into Flag lane horribly wrong, having never done it without giving way to oncoming traffic. I go very wide into the gravel on the layby, but don’t lose speed. The guy drafting me locks his back wheel, and I hear a shout behind, as the third guy in line screeches to a halt in the gravel. Serves them right. I pull over at my usual gateway 100m down the lane for a leak, and watch them go by, still doing the team time trial (minus 1, who probably had a leak of his own). The 3rd aid station is chaos; I dumped my nearly empty water on the way in, but the lovely older folks from the rotary club, didn’t offer me a replacement. Stay calm, they’ve given up their day and are doing a pretty good job; I’ve got plenty of fluid, so just press on. Huge boost at Adlington as the main COLT support crew yelled me up the hill. Averaging over 30kph, but aching from both thighs all the way around my lower back - I’m out of shape! Lap 2 goes well; I’m still moving through the field, but I’m slowing slightly.
A six hour bike was never realistic, 6:15 will do. Hang on round the 3rd lap. I’m hurting, but so is everyone; I just make it up Sheep House Lane, with Richard’s “how can you call that a hill after Lanzarote?” going through my mind! 15k to go and a bee hits my helmet, bounces off, and stings my thigh. At least it gives me something else to think about. I passed Mark P shortly afterwards, he was going well, on his way to a good time. Final time through Adlington, where the COLT crew are losing their voices already, but still make one hell of a noise - John’s not done the training for this!
A steady transition, knee support on. It’s the moment of truth, and I’ve got the ridiculous notion of going close to 4 hours for a sub-12 hours. Surely not? I Force myself to do my 1 minute walks, despite the crowds, which gives me chance to stretch my right hamstring, which isn’t enjoying all the extra work its been doing for 7 hours (its been threatening to cramp since lap 2 on the bike). I hour in, its quite hot (!), but I’ve done 10.5k. That’s 4 hour pace. Two runs later, my knee starts to hurt. I thought it was too good to be true. The hilly sections were taking their toll, so shorter runs, longer walks, and no running on steep bits was required. Look after the knee and I’ll finish. Job done. Got down onto the cycle path and soon saw the Captain looking strong, coming the other way. Good job I was in a running moment! Next up was Mark H. Awesome; we knew he’d go well. The good thing with taking it easy, was that I could stop for a kiss from the mrs; never managed that during a race before! Back down the main road to the park, where the COLT crew had gained numbers and were in great voice.
The drag back up to Horwich was tough, and my knee was sore. The highlight was abuse from the captain as he stormed towards the finish ‘get a move on hippy!’. I sat on a wall for a couple of minutes and urged Andy Mc on as he came by, still looking as fresh as when I saw him an hour or so earlier! I hope that telling him he wasn’t far behind Mark, spurred him on to an excellent marathon split. I took the strapping off my knee for a while, which helped, and once at the top of the hill, I got running again, so put it back on. By the turn, I was feeling OK, and was back to 4 and 5 minute runs. About 9 miles to go, 90 minutes left to go sub 12:30. Go for it. Saw Loz on his way back up, looking determined, and pretty cheerful. Mental arithmetic all the way back to the park, and met all the remaining COLTs on the way. Its going to be a full house of finishers - top effort guys. Out the park, and I reckon there’s 2k to go. Andy’s daughter Jessica is there, and tells me its just around the corner to the finish. She’s been brilliant all weekend, and that was the icing on the cake. She ran with me to the corner - I was probably holding her back!
I turned the corner into the home straight and saw Fi and her mum with the COLT union flag on the barriers in the distance. High fives with the brilliant COLT support, then grab the flag, and down the chute in a moment of pure cheesyness! Apparently it didn’t look too cringe-worthy on the 40ft screen! Medal, T-shirt, then quickly out to thank everyone for helping me around, and cheer home the others. The support was still ongoing in the town hall, with Janey looking after us. I felt bad leaving before John brought the club day to a fantastic close, but I didn’t get home until after midnight as it was. If I’d known he was so close behind Rob and Kevin, I’d probably have stayed. I presume John is in the ‘never again’ category, as we’re all those finishing behind me - with the exception of Rob, who was so enthusiastic for the next one it was amazing! I’m sure he won’t be the only one going long again.
Of course I’m happy with 12:19. If I’d been offered that at the start of June, I’d be disappointed, but 5 weeks later, I’d have thought you were joking. I’ve learnt a lot about myself and my friends over the last few weeks, but that’s part of the point of Ironman. I’d like to thank you all for your support and frank advice; we all need checks and balances.
My two overriding memories of IMUK 2009: firstly the obvious fight to get to the start line, and then perform to the best of that ability. Secondly, and most importantly, I’ll remember it as a club event. We dominated the support - so many people commented on it, and we nearly had 1% of the competitors. And the club hasn’t had its 1st birthday yet! I’m really proud of everything about this club, from the athletes to the supporters. Thank you all so very much.
Lanzarote 2010 anyone?
Ironman UK 2009 by John Gilbert
So, mentally, I decide it’s just not worth the terror at my time of life and in my mind I pull off my goggles and cap and start to shoulder my way back up the ramp. Curiously, my physical body moves down the steps and slips into the water – impressed by this small act of courage, my mind rejoins it before it drowns. Those impossibly boring sixty-minute continuous swims at TF are justified as there’s no great physical effort – just the psychological terror – and after the first lap, I get a flush of well-being as I realise I’m going to make the swim. And I do, in 1:32. I could so easily have been phoning Viv and the kids to tell them it’s off and I’m on my way home. Subsequently to face expulsion from the club and eternal humiliation from Captain Mason. Swim done, I’ve only one objective – to finish in under seventeen hours – nothing else matters. The heart-rate monitor is my god and under one-four-five its sole commandment. Pretty much I obey, Sheep house lane excepted. Feel fine, spin up the hills, freewheel down, take in the views and savour the day. I’m going to be an Ironman. Maybe. Since I’d trained on Gatorade/bananas/Powerbars and gels, I’m a bit fazed to find the bike stations have no bananas. By the third lap, creeping nausea and a deep hatred of sweet things is getting a grip. I ate 5 Powerbars and 4 gels. Every lap I get off and urinate like a racehorse, so that’s a good sign. Bike split was 8:10 – still plenty of time for the marathon – leaves about 7.5 hours and even I can do that. A nasty surprise as I get off the bike, my feet feel like there are marbles taped under the ball of each foot and it’s painful to take a step. Potentially race-ending this and it takes me by surprise as I’d no idea what it was. Andy McCracken has since explained it’s because my shoes aren’t stiff enough and the pedal presses through the sole into the ball of the foot. I’m relieved to find I can sort of walk and yet disappointed as I’d practised my bike to run transitions in training and mainly overcome the wooden-legged feeling. I had fully expected to be striding out at this point at about 10 minute miles to put in a 4:30 marathon – no chance. The following 5 hours and 10 minutes seemed to take forever yesterday, but it wasn’t so bad really – I can honestly say I never considered giving up. I met a lot of nice people from different places and the locals were great in their support. This was an event where the voluntary workers far outshone the professional organisers. Lots of local people outside their gardens offering drinks which of course I politely declined for fear of disqualification. Have you ever seen an angel? A real one, I mean, not like on the Christmas cards? I have. It was at the aid station at mile 22 when I couldn’t even contemplate eating or drinking anything when the Angel, in the guise of a rather short, male, sixty-something Boltonian offered me a small plate of cocktail sausages. They were so good to eat and, double-whammy, made me just a bit thirsty so I sipped on some water. This Ambrosia brought me round a bit and made the last 3 miles easily the most enjoyable of the day. I’ll never forget jogging the last two miles through the park in the dusk with the glow of the lamps with the perfect aroma of the Elderberry and the cool evening air. I’ve spent the last 15 hours wishing it was done and now I want it to last a bit longer. Priceless memories, forever life-affirming, often to be revisited. In just a minute this tranquillity is replaced by the brash glitzy and thumping music of the finish, neon-lit, big style. I wince at the idea of high-fiving people I’ve never met and I’m grateful when the only taker is a small boy of about six. I concede this one and smack him a low-five. Contrary to what people have been telling me all day, I don’t bust into tears – the last time I cried the midwife did it. I’m not much on ceremony and quickly collect my bag and some water and sit on a bench outside where it takes 20 minutes to pull on my sweat pants and a T shirt and phone Viv and the kids who all sound much more emotional than I do. The kids are relieved, if I’d failed they would have had to change schools. Reflecting into the window of the shuttle bus (Get it?) the true magic of the day finally touches me. For about 20 years I have always believed I could never do an Ironman – I was good for a marathon, century rides, even 9 hour Fell runs but I always knew Ironman was beyond me. Now that I know that’s not true, what else is it that I truly believe is beyond me, is really within reach? One of the top ten days of my life – thanks for the help, support and advice over the last 7 months – COLT made an Ironman of me.
The hardest part was getting into the reservoir at 5:55 am. Open water swimming really spooks me, even at Carnforth, and this was much worse. There is a list of people’s greatest fears published in the USA and fear of deep water is ranked number four. Deep, dark, freezing water with a stiff chop and god knows what living in its depths is just about my worst nightmare.
Ironman Lanzarote 2009 by Richard Mason.
Race Day, IM Lanzarote 2009
4.00am. Alarm goes off. Slept well, no loud music from drunken Irish girls, in fact not a bad nights sleep. Kettle on, porridge & raisins soaked in water overnight, add milk and warm in pan. Feel ok, eat porridge. First cup of coffee ahh!! Sarah still in bed asleep, make her a cup of tea (ahh tea is shite in morning doesn't wake me up like coffee).Toilet.
Still naked, clean teeth and put favorite IM shorts on (old reliable), heart rate chest strap, 2xu vest, long sleeve cycle top to keep warm, more coffee, don't forget sunglasses to go in T1 bag (prat). Contemplate faking injury or illness to get out of race. More coffee.
Go & wake Sarah, Sarah wakes up & drinks tea . Eat two Gels & glass of water. Get bottles out of fridge with my favorite tipple; lime accelerade (don't forget the bottles prat). Wetsuit, goggles, cap, compression tights & socks for after the race. Sarah ready.
OK LETS GO. Walk to transition, still dark but no wind yet. Put bottles on bike and put sunglasses in T1 bag. Go back to bike check location position sighting markers. Give Sarah operational orders, kiss & farewell my lovely. Go to changing tent put on wetsuit meet with the Iron Hippy exchange pleasantries, zips me up and we say our farewells. Drop white bag in collection bin & walk to swim gate but not open yet.
6.15am Sit on pavement & rest, try to relax. Gates open, wait for rush to go. 6.25am Walk down beach to swim start. Get into water & warm up for 5 mins. Feel okay, quite pleasant even. Crowds forming in grandstand. 6.40am go to start line behind green inflatable arch and assume my position next to barrier. Go through swim strategy in my head. Hold the buoy line and get as close as possible, whatever happens must hold the buoy line. Five minutes to go and start line now packed. Everyone pushing & shoving but hold my place next to barrier. Growl at two young Spaniards pushing in, big Dutch man next to me joins in with his disapproval, Spaniards skulk away.
6.59am One minute to go. Oh no we’re off early. Hit stopwatch but it doesn't start. Hit it again. Running through the shallow water, got to get the buoy line. Start to swim, reach the buoy line. Lots of bodies, bang crash wallop! Try to relax and hold the line, remember nobody’s trying to kill you. Uh oh man stops on buoy line and big pile up ensues. Kicks to head, feet dragged down.
Reach first big yellow marker buoy. Mayhem as bodies everywhere. Not a single space of clear water. Bang crash wallop! Goggles knocked ajar, recover and adjust, resume full stroke, find some feet but too slow. Try and find feet again and stay relaxed but still too slow. Reach open water, no feet but somebody on my feet.
Make a left turn but no marker rope, change sighting to big red buoys & big white hotel on horizon, aim for left hand side. In clearer water now. Look for some feet. Pink cap girl? Green cap maybe? Is green cap a female pro? Try to pick up the pace, can see big yellow exit buoy for first lap. Keep the tempo up and exit onto the beach to start second lap. Exit water for end of second lap, check watch -65mins, uh oh! 2mins down on last year!
8.05am Run up matting and through showers. Nearly dislocate shoulder taking off wet suit. Set off up steep incline into transition, get bag and straight into changing tent. Helmet, sunglasses, socks. Deposit bag with helper and run for bike. Sarah stood by bike. ‘Hello Sarah I love you!’ Get shoes on and start pushing up to mount point.
8.10am I'm off and away peddling This is what I do best. Heart rate not working, it’s blank. Bastard! Still won’t work. Give it 5minutes to start working, need heart rate to work, can't race on feel alone, will go too hard. Head down promenade peddling into wind. Reach first big roundabout and then accelerate up incline towards Arrecife airport. Ah hah! Heart rate now working! 140 bpm, loud & clear. Uh oh too high, need to relax. Manage to get it down as go over bridge and onto first fast straight. Get the big gear turning. Grandmaster sat on shoulder telling me to rein it in but still at 140bpm. Is it jammed? Feel good, steady boy steady. Make the fast bits faster.
Down towards Puerto Calero roundabout and start to climb again. See first bloke with puncture and feel sorry for him. Have a drink and have a gel every 20mins. Getting into the routine; rip, squeeze, suck. Down towards El Golfo. Reach first aid station and grab water bottle. Three slurps then over head, got to keep cool. Pass Mark Procter. Me thinks his first few miles were far too quick, come on Mark! Overcast very windy, tries to rain. Hah! Pass the point of last years’ puncture, so far so good.
Big left turn and the road to Timafanya. Fire mountain disappears up into the distance before me. Heart rate at 137 bpm. That’s okay, try to relax; drink, rip, squeeze, suck – got to keep the routine. Reach the top and pass the camels down the other side, hit 45mph. Strong crosswinds, in fact a bit scary, wuh hooh! Need a wee…ah that’s better…now can concentrate.
Slight climb to Taigu. At next aid station change bottles and then turn left for La Santa. Fast bit as down hill. Big Swede all in white skin fit passes me. No way José! Hammer after him & pass him. La Santa village comes into view, slow down for speed bumps, crowds shouting support. On towards Famara, sun comes out & a strong side wind, hard to keep the bike straight .Turn left for Teguise and start to climb but wind behind and start to feel the heat of the sun. Climbing strongly check heart rate 140bpm, too high! JK on shoulder gives me a bollocking.
Dropping out of Teguise, down towards the start of the windmill climb. See the windmills in the distance. This isn’t a real climb! I'm a man from the mountains, real mountains! Hard Knott, Gummers Bummer, I eat mountains! We start to climb gradually but head on into wind. A French girl passes me ? What are you doing lady? Nobody passes me going up hill unless their name is Knapp or Pantani. Climb becomes steeper get out of the saddle to engage the quality muscle. Must keep the heart rate below 145bpm. French girl comes back to me & is spat out the back never to be seen again. That'll teach you young lady.
Finally starts to flatten off and start to pick the pace up again. Pass one of the women pros who has the most amazing muscular legs…c'mon concentrate! Start to descend through the hairpins to Haria and have my second wee as I freewheel downhill. Straight through Haria & start the climb to Mirador del Rio, wind behind me. 75 miles done & at last some downhill. Get aero & turn the big gear. Got to hold the heart rate at 135bpm, don't let it drop. Turn into the wind again for 2 miles. Got to keep focused got to keep pushing.
Turn onto rough road for 2miles, hope the bike holds together . Wind behind again now to push on for home. Start the descent for Puerto del Carmen. Hammer, hammer, hammer! Push the biggest gear you can, 53-11. Onto sea front and into T2. Yes! Made it 5hrs 55mins.
2.10pm Drop the bike and start to run. Legs feel okay. Get run bag, put sun visor on, don't change socks…big mistake…carry two gels in hand. I'm up & running onto the start of the marathon, lots of noise from the crowds. Sarah shouts & waves, she got it right, I love her. Heart rate 131bpm, must keep it above 130 to maintain a good pace.
All the other runners look good. No fat lads or plodders yet. Everybody looks smooth & efficient. Am I?
First leg out to turn around 25mins. Bang on target. Turn back to start with wind behind me, not so cool now, start to feel sick, drink more water to settle stomach. See the IRON HIPPY coming the other way and shout encouragement. As I come back towards the turnaround I see Mark Procter starting his first lap. I get first coloured band and it gives me a push to nail the 2nd lap. Catch up with Mark by first aid station and slow down to offer some advice & encouragement. Have my first coke fix washed down with water, yes! 5mins down the road it starts to work. Oh yes!! . Bella Comeford is coming the other way (women’s race leader). I am a lap behind, she must not catch me, she will not catch me.
A mountain bike comes past me with a sign attached (men’s 1st place). Bert Jammer, the race leader, comes into view on my shoulder. Not moving as fast as expected. On any other day, without 112 mile bike ride in my legs, I could hold his pace no problem, but not today. I quicken my pace for a while as I get the buzz off him. Will he win? Will I win my battle? More coke, more water, begin to belch, too much fizzy coke, feel sick. C’mon! Got to keep the heart rate up. Get to turn around point, still on target. This end of the course is much hotter than the other end, lack of wind I think.
Lots of plodders out on the course now, some loud music playing at one of the bars, some fat lads drinking cold beer, lucky bastards…but that will have to wait, got to nail these run splits. Feel quite strong up the little inclines, back down to turnaround point & collect 2nd band. Now at the half way point. 3hr 30mins, check sums in head, yes bang on schedule. C’mon you have to nail it, JK will be proud of you.
Time to get out the secret weapon; "THE IPOD SHUFFLE", once thought of as only for girls, fat lads & hippies but I am relaxing my views & my strict military training is a distance memory, I am becoming more wooly & liberal by the hour. ipod is installed & working, this is a very strange experience as never used one before in a race. I am in my own little world as the Kaiser Chiefs belt out into my ears. Don't over excite yourself old lad, next thing you'll be stopping for a cold beer. Got to stay calm. Turn around for last time & collect the yellow band. 6 miles to home & a 3.30 marathon. You have to nail it!
Johnny Cash comes on the ipod, I love Johnny Cash ," San Quinten you been hell to me", OH YEAH!!!! Water over head, got to keep pushing.
5.45pm Turn around, at far end now. I'm on my way home. Let’s nail it, don't give up on that time you lazy bastard. One mile to go. AC-DC come on with Rocker, oh what a finali. 500m left to go. Take out the ipod & smarten up. Sarah is near the finish, I hear her shout, I love her. Crowd is very noisy near the finish. The finishers’ funnel clock says 10.46. OH YES!!!!! Over the line, a good days work, 3hrs 33 mins for the marathon. A very happy boy.
THE END.