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
Ironman World Championships 2011 by Chris "IronHippy" Wild
I'm not quite sure when I did my first triathlon, but it was a super sprint distance in the late 1990s, whilst on holiday in Lanzarote. I remember buying a second hand bike box in 1999, and it had an Ironman wetsuits sticker on. I felt like a fraud, as I'd never be able to manage an ironman race.
Well I eventually did manage that race, thanks to the encouragement and support of several people. Eight ironman races later, I'd was starting to place quite well, but was very aware of the gulf in class between good and world class. I was still completely in awe of those who'd qualified for the big one in Kona, Hawaii, and even those who were realistically chasing the legendary slots. I'm fortunate to train regularly with two such men.
I guess the dream realistically germinated for me after Ironman Lanzarote 2010. I'd smashed my best time, and gone under the magical 11 hours for the first time. What's more, I'd given the two COLT Ironman legends a slight fright! My time was only around 25 minutes off a slot, but a quick glance at my 2011 age-group revealed that they went even faster!
An injured, but solid IMUK performance whilst messing about at a festival, placed me in the top 100 for the first time. I wasn't going to enter the 2011edition, but the announcement of extra slots, and so many club-mates racing had me looking at the results more closely; IMUK has a reputation for a lack of depth of quality, and based on previous results, and with extra slots, I was in the right area. But we knew others would notice, and the standard would rise.
Lanzarote 2011 was all about the impossible task of beating last year's time under normal windy conditions. I was ecstatic to scrape a PB by seconds, exceeding all my expectations, and getting close to a top 20 finish in my age group. 15 minutes off Kona - doesn't sound much, but on that course its massive.
I wasn't racing anyone but myself (and psychologically my fellow COLTS - even though it wouldn't physically effect my efforts). The qualification slot was in my thoughts at times, but wasn't something I was targeting. As I've said before, the World Championships are for the serious and dedicated elite of our sport, not fun-runners out for the love of the challenge, like me.
Thanks to the use of the Bolton Imperial Measurement system, another huge PB was achieved, but everyone else went quickly too, and it looked like I'd missed a date in Kona by a slender 4 minutes. Strangely I was disappointed; I'd raced quicker than I ever thought possible, but 4 minutes from Hawaii? Too close!
Thanks to some very generous no-shows at the roll-down ceremony and suddenly the impossible had happened - the one thing all ironmen dream about had actually happened; somehow I'd qualified for the ironman World Championships 2011! It took about a week to sink in, and even then I didn't quite believe it. But they didn't refuse my online registration, so I had to show up.
It was to be my third ironman race in six months, and combined with a work overload, training was sporadic at best. Stay injury-free and go and have an amazing experience, were my only goals.
I knew nothing about Hawaii, except that it lies in the mid-pacific, is volcanic, and hosts and epic triathlon that I've watched late at night on the computer and on athlete tracker. I think one of the main factors in racing above my ability has been knowing the course. Lanzarote and Bolton courses are very familiar to me, so I was slightly apprehensive about performing somewhere new. Add in the heat, humidity, and a non-wetsuit swim, and I had low expectations for race day. Lancashire to Kona is a long way. 39 hours after checking in, we arrived, with all our luggage, on the big island. What a place. Huge mountains, tropical rainforest, Alpine meadows, and lava fields all within minutes of each other. It reminded us of a cross between Australia and Lanzarote.
The car hire place generously upgraded our cheap option to a Jeep. Rock 'n' Roll! The fuel bill was going to be higher, but getting luggage and bike about was going to be less stressful. Finding a hotel at such short notice in a town where 1900 athletes and their families were about to descend had been tricky, but we found a good deal at a lovely place 6 miles down the coast, where Richard and Sarah had also booked too. The mighty COLT had arrived in Hawaii again. Driving down Ali'i Drive on the way to the hotel was amazing. The idyllic postcard Paradise was good, but the number of athletes running and cycling was unbelievable. Here were the beautiful people, on their beautiful machines, looking every inch the real deal. What on earth was I doing here? Ah well, I've never been one for fitting in! A quick trip out on the bike revealed a few glitches, but nothing serious, so that was a major relief. Richard arrived later that evening, so our joint rookie adventure started the next day.
First up, a swim in the beautiful clear waters of Kailua Bay. A bit choppy, but beautifully warm, and not too busy. A short early afternoon run sufficed for training, but revealed that my race shoes had suddenly decided to give me blisters - even after only 25 minutes. Its amazing how kit can throw you a banana skin when you least expect it. You can either accept it and work on a solution, or get stressed and lose focus on what's important. I was in paradise, at the holy grail of endurance sport, and I'd brought spare shoes - it would have to take a lot more to get me down! The next couple of days we combined very early swims (it was already ridiculously busy in the water at 7:30!) and a recce brick at the energy lab, with our own training and sightseeing.
The buzz in Kona was pretty cool, and I had plenty of good banter with the locals and traders, even if they were initially reluctant to offer any freebies - as I clearly wasn't a competitor! JK had warned me that they wouldn't know what to make of me, and he was spot on. The triathletes seemed to get friendlier the further from Ali'i Drive that you got. Town seemed to be the place to pose and hang out with your race face on.
None of the course seemed overly frightening as an individual segment, but putting them together would be a slightly tougher challenge. It wasn't massively hot, as a massive plume of smoke rising from Kilauea, episode 61 of its almost 30 year long recent activity, was affecting the weather on the west coast, causing haze and cloud most afternoons. We went to see it after race week, and it was truly awesome, even without bubbling lava flows at present.
The swim course was getting choppier, with the visibility of the coral and tapestry of fish, being less spectacular than on day one. At least swimming early, we were treated to the rare experience of clinging onto a traditional Polynesian boat, almost half a mile offshore, drinking locally-grown coffee and eating cookies! Worse than the swell was avoiding swimmers coming the other way. This was fine until Thursday, which coincidentally was the first day I didn't have the captain nearby creating his "Mr Smooth" bow wave! About half a mile out into the vastness of the Pacific, and two of us wanted the same space. I took a full fist on the nose. Ouch! My first thought was not wanting to bleed in the ocean and attract all kinds of massive predators with huge and numerous teeth, but no drama, I was fine. Later the same day I further tried to sabotage my race by slicing the bottom of my foot on sharp coral whilst snorkeling with a hawksbill turtle. It may have been the perfect antidote to tourists and the Ali'i buzz, but might have seriously hampered my ability to run. Turns out I may have been glad of that excuse by 2pm Saturday!
Registration was odd. Very organised, with an army of volunteers, but massively over-complicated, as with the online system. I still object to having to buy a USA Triathlon day license, as they won't accept anything foreign - its hardly surprising they're not the most popular nation in the world.
Racking was also equally complicated, but a personal volunteer guide escorted everyone through the system. It was good to follow favourite Craig Alexander in, and watch the media frenzy. Also very interesting to see a row of statisticians sitting by the side of the road ticking off which frame and wheels everyone was using. Hurrah! One for 'COLT'! Unfortunately it went in the 'other' column. Zipper was winning by a mile, and I don't doubt Cervelo was leading the frame table too. Being a bit of a stat geek, I'd love to see how these figures correlated to actual results, but the manufacturers presumably aren't that interested in that.
And suddenly it was race-day eve! I slept really well, rising at 3:45 to begin the race day rituals. I've never made porridge (or oatmeal as they call it) using a coffee filter machine before, but it worked well! Transition was buzzing. A short queue for quality stamped race numbering to both arms, then in to sort the bike. I lent my brand new lightweight track pump to a couple of people before doing my own tyres. Word of warning - don't. Do your own tyres first, as it was only two borrows later that it went on an endless loan all around, never to be seen again. The last person in that line obviously decided to take it home, as it never got as far as lost and found. Cheers guys!
Richard and I soon met up - we were the under-dressed ones, without the $350 swimsuits that seemed obligatory. It was strange watching the pro's go off to a mighty bang of the canon, whilst we waited in transition - I can't remember the last time I raced with different wave starts. Manly handshakes and best wishes, and it was time to get wet. The adventure was afoot. What's left of the beach was rammed, with no-one wanting to get in too early. I couldn't be doing with the standing around, so made my way out to the start line, and bobbed around on the right side, about six back.
After what seemed like an eternity, a crack of the canon again and we were off, and I had space! And then came the first buoy - everyone who'd drifted right had to funnel left (beautifully illustrated in the photo – I’d certainly picked the busy area!), and there was a severe lack of room. It hurts a lot more without the protection of a few millimetres of neoprene, and there were some very sharp nails! This was repeated at every buoy on the 1.2mile outrun. The swell was up, but I felt relaxed and fairly strong. I hit the turn in 35 minutes, which was actually slightly disappointing. No wonder it felt good. I was already writing my race report in my head, with some bizarre commentary going on like Kevin from the Wonder Years (or (JD from Scrubs for younger readers). The way back was a bit longer, and seemed to go on and on. Finally the shore became realistically close. The joy was short-lived, as I got a lightning bolt of cramp in my left calf. Not for the first time in a race - its happened in three of my last four races now, so no panic; keep the arms moving and work out how to ease the pain and get my leg functioning again. A least it was only about 300m before I could crawl onto the beach and get some help form a marshal. After floundering around for about a minute I finally found the right position to ease it, and was pleased to be able to stand as I reached the beach in a fairly big crowd. The noise was great, and the day felt disturbingly warm at around 8;15 in just a pair of tri shorts!
T1 was quite busy, which at least meant I wasn't quite at the back. It was weird having so much in my bag, but I took it steady and remembered everything. There were enough bikes left in the massive transition area for me to run about 10 bikes past mine, as all that salt water had obviously affected my ability to count. I was probably looking for my aero helmet with the COLT union flag on the top too, but had opted for less aero, more vents, on sound advice. That was a tough call, and I'd have probably been fine with the Grommit hat; the deciding factor had been not wanting to look really stupid, riding at the back in a fancy hat! No fears there, there were plenty behind, and many, many far fancier helmets.
It was great to see Fi as I rounded 'hot corner', shouting and flag waving. Thanks to the advice of our Kona veteran, the Grand Master, she had been armed with all the crucial spectating information, and managed to intersperse shouting at her idiot husband, with the more normal holiday pastimes of eating and shopping. Any course where the support crew can be in short sleeves at 4:30am is a winner in our household!!
Two trusted friends had told me to take it really steady for the first two hours of the bike. I know from Lanzarote that a lot of people charge at the first hills, and the heat , wind, and climbs really make them pay later on. So as the traffic mainly came from behind as we headed out and back into town, then off along the Queen K highway, I just kept repeating the advice to myself, and let them go. The aid stations were amazing; the volunteers are trained to run with the bottles, so you can grab them at speed, but my first attempt to take advantage of this led to four icy cold slippery bottles sliding across the hot asphalt. I slowed for the last attempt at water (yep, they're big enough to grab four or five bottles if you have enough arms!), and noticed my speed was still 35kph!
Even going steady, the slight tailwind meant I was flying, and slowly working my way back through the field. Heart rate steady, speed good, this was what it’s all about. At the bottom of the long drag up to Hawi, I was averaging around 22mph, and was starting to dream of a 5:15 bike split. The hill went well, and I was really moving forward, especially on the return when the weight really helped me fly past some of the more athletic types! It was good to see Richard going well, around 5 minutes behind me, and also powering past people towards the turn.
I was still riding within myself, but as the wind turned from a pretty fun, but not disturbing crosswind (probably a bit different for lighter folk with deeper section wheels) into a steady headwind, the going started to get a lot less fun. The rolling hills really slowed me down, and I was getting overtaken on the ups, and not really catching on the downs. Every wheel that rolled past I expected to have Richard's beaming face following it! I knew it would get better, but it was tough going. An hour later I was less sure that it would get better - 5:15 was a long-distant hope; 5:30 wasn't happening either, and the bike split PB was looking unpromising. Finally, after a fairly lengthy slight downhill section, the power returned, and the last 45 minutes felt good again. The bike PB was back on track, and hopefully at an average speed of over 20 mph, and my mood was greatly improved for the run. As we headed past the airport, I could see a helicopter over the Energy Lab. Surely the pro's weren't 17 miles into the marathon already? Then I started seeing guys running up the Queen K, and it was true; some people had under 10 miles to go!
Town was noisy, and the crowds had grown. Amazingly, I'd kept the Captain behind me for now, although I was sure he'd pass me in T2, as I spent what seemed like an eternity having a 'comfort break'.
So just a matter of a marathon, starting just before 2pm, when the weather was lovely and warm. Apparently the commentators mentioned pavement (that's 'road' in english!) temperatures of 55 degrees C, or a staggering 131 F. Just like Bolton then! Remarkably, the knees and ITBs seemed to be holding together, and running felt comfortable, for the first mile. I knew the aid stations were around every mile, but that first one seemed to take an et an eternity to arrive. My legs felt great, but I was cooking in the heat. I walked through, grabbing a couple of iced waters and sponges, then set off feeling good. Shortly afterwards there was a gentle tap on the shoulder, and the catch had been made. We ran together until the next aid station, when I again stopped for an ice buffet. Remarkably I caught Richard again, and that's when he informed me he had no idea of pace or heart rate. Clearly if I was running more quickly, it was too slow, so he forged ahead. I kept him in sight until the turn at the far end of Ali'i Drive, and was feeling good, with the heating under control, and the knees behaving. Then at around mile six, I got hit by a similar cramp to that in the first few miles of the run at Bolton. It stopped me dead in my tracks. I was here for fun, and the experience, and was not in the right frame of mind to blast through it. So I walked to the next aid station, gathered my thoughts, and a lot more ice, and jogged on. Slowly it eased, but I didn't dare skip an aid station walk, and thus the pattern was set for the rest of the afternoon.
I wanted to run up Palani – it’s a bit like Castle Hill in Lancaster - well maybe not, but it felt that way. It just wasn't worth the energy expenditure for an extra 1 or 2 kph though, so I took the easy option and chatted to Fi, as she gave helpfull encouragement ("come on, you're used to the heat - get running"). I did manage a token run over the top, and on to the Queen K. This was the part of the run I'd feared - around 6 miles, pretty much all uphill to the Energy Lab turn. Miles and miles of relentless heat, with the added mind game of a two minute cloud cover, just to remind me how hot it really was. I'd thought the run in Lanzarote had been hot in 2010, but it had a breeze, and downhill stretches to recover. This was just baking tarmac, baking lava, and baking athletes stretching over the horizon. I was running well, at target race pace, and cruising past people, but the aid station refuels were getting longer, and I lost most of what I'd gained every mile. Still, it was working, I was moving forward, and I was sort of enjoying it, especially when cyclists passed on their way into Kona, around 20 miles behind me. I was surprised how far I'd progressed into the Energy Lab when I saw Richard. I'd made it all the way down the hill, so had regained enough energy to smile, and congratulate him. He had his race face on, and certainly wasn't having a picnic, but was only moving one way through the field. Job done, he'd beaten me soundly again, which was never in doubt in my mind, now it was just about salvaging a respectable time. I clocked the gap at 8 minutes on my return, which was much better than I'd hoped, and buoyed by a blast of Deep Purple as I rejoined the Queen K, I knew I could make a daylight finish, and a sub-11 time. I'd changed my watch display from marathon split to overall time - the former was too depressing, and I really didn't want to see a 4 appear at the start. Just keep it steady, and enjoy the descent. What descent? The headwind (which wasn't really that strong at all), and tiredness, didn't make the trip back down to Kona seem any easier, but I surged the last climb back to the top of town, and kicked for home. Palani is much nicer heading down, especially as there were still a good number heading up, and when I heard Judas Priest's "Breaking the Law" blaring from the PA on Hot Corner, all was well with the world. The sun was still in the sky, the crowds were huge, and it was downhill all the way to the finish. Mind out folks - fat lad coming through! I must have gained 20 places in that last kilometre, and felt great on the last few hundred metres along Ali'i drive to the finish shoot. Like the shop-keeper from Mr Benn, Fi magically appeared with the flag, and I sailed over the line. Exhausted, hot and relieved. 10:53, and 3:57 on my watch for the marathon. There was no elation, like at Bolton or Lanza, I'd finished the biggest race in triathlon, and had expected it to be the biggest rush, but I was just quietly contented, yet very disappointed. Nearly 4 hours for a marathon is no longer in my mindset, no matter how hot, how under-prepared, or how many races I'd done this year.
I found Richard, and congratulated him, but we were far less excited than in Bolton, He'd beaten me by 11 minutes again, so I guess must have had similar thoughts about the performance. We found the girls, posed for photos, and I certainly cheered up. It was a big achievement on a tough course, against the best athletes in the world - and my goals, no matter how low, had all been achieved. I'd finished in the daylight, under 11 hours, and in the top half of the field. I'd been serious in the build up, when I'd suggested I may come last in my age group, but somehow I'd beaten 100 or so. Someone offered me a chocolate gel, and I hate to refuse free stuff, but it instantly knocked me sick, and I had to lie on the grass for a few minutes, whilst Fi went to try and find food.. We grabbed all the gear, dumped it in the car, and headed past the steady flow of finishers, out beyond the course, and found some food.
We charged around the island for the next few days, sightseeing as much as possible, attending the cheesiest award banquet ever, and getting inked, before flying home via a whirlwind tour of New York. I was walking easily in a couple of days, and felt fine. This was 3 ironman races in 5 months, so I clearly hadn't pushed to the limit - but that had always be the plan - take it steady and enjoy the experience. On reflection I'm pleased; not ecstatic, but I got what I deserved, or more, if I ever deserved to be there in the first place. My training log is not that of a world class athlete, and trying to compete alongside some of the most dedicated amateur athletes of any sport wordlwide clearly demonstrated what it takes to be truly world-class. If you'd suggested to me in mid-may 2010 that I'd be finishing Kona 2011 in under 11 hours, I'd have suggested that gambling was not your strong point, and that you should probably have a carer to help you through daily life. I've come a long way over the last few years, but the void to what may be possible is vast!
This was my first experience of that 'never again' feeling after crossing the finish line. Obviously not 'no more Ironman races', I fear that may never happen, but 'not here - its too tough'. That lasted about 30 minutes. As a very wise friend, who's been and done it all, warned - this is the most addictive race of them all. I have unfinished business on a scale I cannot explain. Just the small matter of qualifying again, then somehow finding the finance to physically get there.
So I'm now super-motivated. Well I never need motivation to race, just to put the hard miles in on the road and in the pool. I've got new goals for 2012, and feel the need to put in some performances that justify the new tattoo - flaking on a hot marathon course is no longer an option when people know you've raced Kona (not in my mind anyway, without a bloody good excuse). Time to man up - get serious and learn to suffer. The first thing is clearly to get a sensible haircut, stop eating curry, s, and stop wasting time going to rock concerts. I hope none of these ever happen! Sure I possibly won't reach my triathlon potential, although the distress caused would probably stop me training altogether. I do this for fun, and I try to show that you don't have to conform to reach a good standard.
As this has turned into something akin to Ms Wellington's mammoth acceptance speech - I'd better finish with some thank yous. Obviously top of the list is the good lady wife, who lets me train in the sunshine for weeks on end, leaving her home to earn the pennies. She finally got the holiday she deserved. And secondly to a group of friends in Lancaster and Lanzarote, who constantly kick my arse, and show me how far I still have to go, whilst motivating and enabling me to get keep on improving, taking it to the next level, and never being satisfied! You know who you are, and I'm very grateful, even though you've clearly created a monster!
Always strive for that next level, believe in yourself, and listen to the friends that support your dreams, but keep it real. Anything probably isn't possible, but that's no reason not to try!
Ironman World Championships 2011 by Cpt Richard Mason
Some of you will already know a bit about my race from my posts on the Colt Forum, but the following is a true and more detailed account of the day.
Saturday 8th October 2011
3.50am RACE DAY MORNING. No problem getting up, as body clock has not yet adjusted. Every day I want to fall asleep at 7.00pm and wake up at 3.00am. Log onto computer whilst coffee is brewing and find out that England have lost to France in the Rugby World Cup. Not a good start to the day. Kona Coffee is good stuff!! White bread and jam, Power Bar, banana, 500ml of Enduro Fuel. Final check I have all I need in Swim Bag and off we head for the darkness of the car park and drive into town.
We find a space to park on the roadside just north of the run route cut off road – Phew. Sarah and I walk to transition (still in the dark) together with lots of other nervous athletes also making their way. Leave Sarah to buy more coffee while I go and get body marked. Get done pretty quickly – 740 tattooed onto both arms. ‘When can I put on my sun screen?’ I ask. ‘You can’t’ the lady tells me as it will rub the numbers off. What!! ?? That’s insane. It’s going to be 35 degrees plus. Next job is to be weighed – 184 pounds FAT BASTARD. Am 6 pounds heavier than I was for IronMan Uk – Uh Oh. Not a confidence builder.
I make my way to the bike transition and put my bottles on the bike. Just one, I’ll get the rest at the course aid stations. The gel bottle goes on the down tube – 12 gels diluted with water. There is a lot of activity and a hell of a lot of tension. I then make my way to the swim-bag drop, shorts, goggles, cap, nothing else to worry about. There is plenty of time before the start – need a toilet stop so go and queue up at the end of the pier. The sun is beginning to rise and the pro’s are being called for their 6.30am start. I stand in the toilet queue taking it all in when a friendly face in the form of the Iron Hippy. (Decide to quit queuing and wait until I get into the water)
The Hippy and I make our way over to a very large inflatable Gatorade bottle on the pier (which acts as the start-line marker for the swim) to watch the pro’s set off. The atmosphere is really building now, the crowds of spectators have grown and the helicopters are flying overhead – 5 minutes until the pro’s start. Mike Reilly is talking the start up on the PA but I’m not really listening. BOOM the cannon goes off, the blast makes us jump and the Hippy is a little shell-shocked (my military training makes me calm under fire).
It is now our turn to get into the water. 1720 age groupers go down a single stairway into the water – it takes forever. After all these years in Kona you would have thought they would have widened the steps. Shake the Hippy’s hand and then we’re in the water and doing our own thing. Most people just wade in to waist deep but not me, I go straight in and swim towards the start line, bit unsure where to line up but head left and keep a good 50 metres back from the throng – but should I go nearer to the front?? Try to relax and tread water – 5 minutes to go. Try to set me markers for sighting, but the swell is too much to site the turn around about. Creep a bit further forward, but keep behind the main pack start line. BOOM we are off. Not many bodies, too far back, relax and start off conservatively.
SWIM
Too far back, no draft, end up leading a group of 4 - 2 girls, 1 bloke, me leading. I have my own little group. At one point I think I am going the wrong way but then some buoys come into sight. Comfortable, too comfortable, I think I am doing OK and then realise heading for the turn point that I am too far to the right and heading for the wrong buoy. OH F*** – why is all the action about 500 metres to my left. Uh-oh, re-align with the Numpties following me. Can now see the mast of the boat but it takes forever to come. Make the turnaround its all a bit more frantic but because I am so far back I can accelerate out of trouble and the congestion. Turn and head for home, still too relaxed and still leading my little group. Half way home my little No 2 pink girlfriend comes past me to have a go at the front, she last about 5 minutes and then runs out of steam, leaving me to hit the front again. Chivalry is not dead!
We start to see the pier and we are gaining on the swimmers in front – they’re all bloody pink hats though!! I batter my way through the last 500 metres which is the roughest, most congested part of the swim. The clock says 1hr 22. minutes as I come up the steps. Sh** that’s my worst ever time. Quick shower and then dress – heart rate strap, vest, compression socks, shoes, sun cream, the list seems to be endless, but my bike is really easy to find because every other bugger is out of there.
BIKE
Mount bike and we’re away. Hit the Garmin, it springs into life for all of 10 seconds before a light flashes to tell me ‘Low Battery’. It shuts down. NO PACE, NO HEART RATE. It can’t have bloody charged properly. This is not in the plan – I should have checked it, but I left my glasses on the plane. Now I am really in the SH***!!!! Panic, can’t believe I have made such a stupid schoolboy error. My racing plan is in tatters without my faithful friend, what am I going to do. The experts would say don’t go too hard in the first part of the race. Ah well – I ignore my vast experience and all the advice and hammer it up the hill for the first 5 miles, passing anybody and everybody. Get to the top and turn around to go down the hill. Am flying. Hit Palani – very steep. Hammer, hammer, hammer onto the Queen K highway and into the Lava fields. I start to relax and get into the groove. I decide I need to have some kind of plan so I use my good old speedometer to gage my pace, I decide on an average speed of 21mph. Still gaining – pass mostly girls, you notice their bigger bums and more shapley legs when there is nothing else to look at.
The Queen K highway is long, straight and slightly undulating; nice smooth tarmac. I feel good so I push, push onto the Aid station and grab two bottles, one of Power Bar lime, and one of water. Oooh they are so nice and cold. Slosh some water down my back, front and anywhere to cool down. Start on Gel bottle, two slurps every 20 minutes. At the left turn off the Queen K I hammer downhill and then the real climb starts, 15 miles uphill, into the strong Haiwian wind to Hawwi. The temperature is 30 degrees plus and am in the full sun. Halfway up the climb Leitto the first male pro is on his way back down – alone. (By the way did 56 miles in 2 hours 26 minutes. Whoo Hoo, if I can keep this pace up, and I believe I can, then I know that a 5 hour 30 minute bike is easily achievable).
The wind picks up and it is a driving headwind – am slowing to 15mph – this is hard work. Some of the lighter riders start to make ground on me, but, I think Jan Ulrich ‘sit back and turn the big gear’. Using my strength to bring it back, the light spinners in front soon begin to tire and their twiddling of the little gears loses it’s impact, they wilt and wither and I’m back on it. The mile markers are ticking by, I reccee’d the climb earlier in the week and so I know how far it is to the turn around. I look out for the Hippy (who I presume is in front) Yep, he has made the turn around and he passes me on his way down, we shout a bit of abuse and encouragement to each other and I start the clock. To the turn around and back to where he has just passed me is about 5 minutes. Not a problem, I can catch him, and I’m feeling good. The wind is now behind me and I AM FLYING. Nobody can descend as fast as a fat lad like me, 40mph, 45mph, 50mph – run out of gears. The descent finally levels off and then I’m back climbing up to the junction with the Queen K. It is so bloody hot and it takes forever to get back to the right turn back towards Kona. Its 35 miles of ups and downs back to T2, but this is my sort of terrain, keep pushing the big gears, very aero, use my strength and continue to make ground. Finally I’m back into T2, drop the bike – but oh my god, my foot is so bloody tender I can hardly put it down, making it a long run through transition to my run bag. Socks, trainers, visa, more sun screen and I’m on the run.
RUN
I spot the Hippy straight away, he is 500 metres in front (this is just like IronMan UK), I see Sarah on hot corner, looking cool and waving the COLT flag, ‘I love you’ I shout. The hippy is coming back to me but slowly, slowly, don’t push it yet Richard. Oooh it is so, so hot, and the first aid station takes forever to come. I am running too slowly, but I have no way of calculating my pace. My calculation was never great which is why I was in the infantry and not a fighter pilot. Ali’i Drive is hot and humid and surprisingly undulating, every time I feel bad I realise it’s because I am going up a hill. (JK never told me it was this F******ing hilly). I now have my aid station routine sorted, water over my head, carb drink and ice down my front. I have rolled my vest up into a sports bra to hold in the ice. I look like I have moobs but they soon melt in this heat. I start to feel sorry for myself, but I reach ‘Hot Corner’ and turn right into Palani just as Chrissy Wellington comes the other way. I raise a smile - Mrs GB is coming home again for her fourth Ironman victory.
Palani is a much steeper hill, not dissimilar to the one at Bolton IronMan but twice as long, just what you need in the middle of a 35 degree marathon. The crowds are good on the hill, I spot Fi and the COLT flag flying, I smile and wimper as I shuffle on by. As I come into the aid station Miranda Cafrae is coming down to finish in 2nd, I think? But I am incoherent and if I hear the words ‘Good Job Richard’ one more time I use my little remaining strength to murder someone. I head out onto the Queen K highway into the Lava fields, momentarily it clouds over ‘Yes! There is a God and he is English’ Spoke to soon, it last all of 2 minutes and the sun comes back out with a vengeance.
Even though I feel like sh** I am moving faster than most which is amazing. I have a gel and some coke and start to feel a bit better, perhaps its not over yet, perhaps I can pick it up, I then see the 14 mile marker and am reminded that the business end of the race is just about to start. Again the route is far from flat, it undulates all the way. I try to calculate how far it is to the Energy Lab, I think it starts at mile 16 and is 1.5 miles in and 1.5 miles out, I ran it mid week so I know what to expect in there. It’s hot and uphill on this return leg. As I crest the next rise I see the solar panels roofs of the Energy Lab and I pull closer, I cross the road into the aid station, re-ice myself, and pick up the pace downhill into the breeze. The turn around takes forever to come but when it does I feel a spark of joy as I know I am now on my way home and the pain will end. As I reach the bend and start the slight incline (which feels like a mountain) the Hippy is coming the other way. He is still running and cheerful, we exchange pleasantries and I tell him how far the turn around is. The COLT ‘Hawaii Ironman Title’ is now in the bag, but I have no idea of the time gap and am past caring. I can’t remember JK’s PB either. I am simply surviving and right now that’s all that matters.
I eventually summit the feeble incline and head left onto the Queen K, I have no time check or running clock, I am running blind. I know my swim was slow 1hr 22 mins and the bike was good 5hrs 22 mins, but I have no running clock or splits for my marathon. I know what time it is now and I know what time I started so I try to the calculation. I think I can still make 10hrs 45 mins. Ohh that’s so slow, I was hoping for 10hrs 30mins, I think of the things I should have done but didn’t. I dismiss negative thoughts from my head and try to tell myself I am at the World Championships and nobody cares about your time. BUT I DO!! Just finish the race Richard and take the applause. (Remember Clearwater). I start to get my race head on after more coke and gels and with 6 miles to go I try and pick up the pace. I find myself in a small group – 1 girl and 2 blokes – and we hold each others pace and work off each other. 3 miles to go and the last 2 miles are downhill (sort of). I must stay with the Group. I know my superior weight will put pay to their efforts going down the hill. We turn right and head down Palanni. I let rip and the Group is left for dead. I pick up more places and am quite enjoying the free ride. I see Sarah just past Hot Corner and shout for her to get out the COLT flag, she waves and shouts she will meet me at the finish (not a chance I think!). I settle down after the hill and try to remember to enjoy the last mile and smile, but I just want it to be over.
I approach Alii Drive and make my right turn to the finish. The crowds are massive. Everyone is smiling, shouting and clapping. ‘Thank you, but you don’t even know me’. As the finish stand comes into site and Mike Reilly’s voice is booming loud and clear I spot Sarah who has magically appeared and is standing by the little Church just before the finish barriers start. She holds the flag out, I slow down, stop and give her a quick kiss as I collect the flag – thank you for putting up with me and being with me on this big adventure. I run towards the finish line, flag in hand, and as I come into the finish chute the crowds are even bigger. I try to smile and put in a few high fives, but I just want it to be over.
I cross the line in 10hrs 41mins. I am relieved, and yet disappointed. I don’t feel emotional or special. Why? I smile for the camera and my Leiy is placed around my neck. I shake hands with the young girl whose arse I kicked earlier, she laughs when I tell her she needs to be a little bit chunkier, so she can run down hill quicker. The music is loud and the lights are bright. I am whisked away by two helpers, a boy and a girl, both Australians. What? They ask me the usual questions, ‘Do I need medical attention?’, ‘NO, I need to do it again, but faster!!!’ They guide me to the Athletes Area where there is food, drink, medals, T’shirts, and photographs, but no dancing girls or beer, well not that I could find. I wander around in a daze, collect my medal and T shirt and have my picture taken behind the World Championship sign. I begin to relax and take it all in, and then I feel really, really sick. I think it must be dehydration so I sit and then lie down for 5 minutes until I feel better. I stumble into the Hippy (who doesn’t feel too great either), we shake hands and compare notes. We find Fiona and then Sarah and as we sit on the COLT flag on the sand we both agree this race was the toughest yet.
I gather my kit and go and reclaim my bike. I look around transition, it is only 7 pm but it is now dark. I am allowed out with my bike and kit and make my way to the front of the King Kona Beach hotel behind the finish line where Sarah is waiting for me, we sit on the wall and take it all in. She produces a large bottle of beer, plus bottle opener, I crack it open and as I enjoy the cold bitter taste it all begins to sink in. I have just competed in the 2011 IronMan World Championships, I have finished it, I have my medal, my Finisher’s T’Shirt and cap. I finally begin to enjoy the day. Craig Alexander broke the course record and won his 3rd World Championships. Chrissie Wellington dug deeper than she has ever done before to win her 4th.
To quote Lord Nelson ‘I am very proud of what I have done and achieved, but now I must go away and do better’.
Ironman Wales 2011 by Tony Ireland
With the exception of professionals and those aiming to qualify for the world championships, in Kona Hawaii, most Ironman athletes tend to lack some of the rivalry found in many other sporting or physical activities. The competition is the course and Ironman Wales had the potential to be amongst the toughest, but as any Ironman would tell you “to win is to finish”.
With just 2 days to go my teammate, Willie Wilson and I were in the La Vista café, Tenby, scouring the internet for weather reports. The tail end of Hurricane Katia was threatening to kill off our challenge before it even began, with wind speeds of 60 mph, heavy rain and thunderstorms. Forums were alive with rumours of 10 foot waves, good news for the local surfers, but not so eagerly anticipated by triathletes waiting to “go long”. Thankfully, 24 hours later things had improved, but the high wind forecast remained; therefore, the swim venue would move from South Beach to North Beach. The new swim location offered more protection from the elements given the wind direction but would require athletes to run just over a km to reach the transition area.
At 6.40am on Sunday 11 September 2011, 1503 athletes crowded in the hastily erected starting pen. The zigzag walkway leading to the street above is lined with numbered white carrier bags containing the running shoes for our extended dash to transition. The gathered masses are relieved rather than annoyed at the extra run; when all said and done, an Ironman is not an Ironman without the 3.8km swim and after 20 weeks and over 400 hours of training I was there to become an Ironman. After the Welsh national anthem there was just time for Willie and I to shake hands, man hug and wish each other luck before a flare shot into the sky and exploded to signal the start of Ironman Wales.
The Swim (3.8km):
One last check of the goggles, then dive before the next wave from the relentless shore break rolled in. We were off, heading out on the first of two 1.9km loops. Needless to say the water temperature in the Atlantic was a little cooler than the warm, almost bath-like seas in which I had trained in Cyprus, but after that initial “take your breath away” moment I quickly acclimatised. 1503 athletes heading towards a single buoy resembles something akin to an aquatic version of mixed martial arts. The punches and kicks rain in from all directions and the murky brown water reduced vision to a point where I was forced to adopt a high elbowed stroke that doubled as a guard and means of propulsion. The second loop was less frantic as the field spread out, allowing me to relax and focus on not expending too much energy, there was still a long day ahead. After 1hr 4min I stumbled through the shore break and headed for white bag number 597. Goggles, hat and Wetsuit off, force them into the plastic bag, trainers on, bag under my arm, start running. Swim……done”!
T1 and Bike (180km)
“The noise was immense, the crowd, five or six deep, all cheering and urging competitors on. Spurred on by this support I strode out towards transition. I had clearly not thought my plan of putting all my swim kit in the flimsy white bag, almost from my first steps the bag began to disintegrate. I spent the next km struggling to hold onto my wetsuit and various bits of swim apparel. Thankfully I arrived at transition and was able to relieve myself of my soggy parcel. Willie had arrived in the huge marque that doubled as a changing room slightly before me and was already donning cycling gear. It was good to know that we had both made it through the swim and were heading out on the bike within minutes of each other.
On a normal day this bike leg would be one of the toughest there is, 180km of undulating coastal roads with over 2500m of vertical assent, four climbs of 17%, two of which are in the final 10km. Add gale force winds and a wet slippery surface, this ride would be epic. I aimed to hold back on the bike, fuel my muscles and save energy for the marathon to come; but as soon as I left the shelter of Tenby I realised that the incredibly strong headwinds would increase both my effort levels and time. Two days earlier we had covered this same section of road while training with top Army triathlete, Mark Livsey, (who was racing as a professional), spinning easily at 35kmph. During the race my battle with the wind reduced forward momentum to barely 20kmph. Within minutes my heart rate monitor was flashing and a little bleep told me it was time to start eating. I was introduced to Mulebar a few years ago and now use nothing else. For me, nutrition in a race is the same as during daily life; the more natural a product the better it tends to be for you. Mulebar are made from 100% organic produce, so no false chemical taste, just natural energy and a great variety of flavours. My plan was one bar every 40mins, apple strudel first, eight more to go. I then went through my mental checklist; heart rate 130bpm, “check”, sip of electrolyte drink, “check”, shoulders relaxed, “check”, timing chip…………… missing! Damn, all this training, time and effort for nothing, I am going to be disqualified. Slightly irrational in hindsight, however, at the time I entered panic mode, it was time to consider the options. One: Return to transition and throw myself at the mercy of the race crew, a glance over my shoulder at the mob of cyclists filling the road behind me ruled that out. Two: Stop, that was never going to happen. Three: Crack on, worry about it later……..sounds good to me!
From Angel we headed back to Pembroke, this time wind assisted. The miles began to fly by, but two mini explosions burst my bubble. Another rider had fished a multi-tool out of his rear jersey pocket rather than an energy bar, he fumbled and dropped directly under my front wheel as I sped past in full aero tuck. The sharp metal edge of the tool popped both my tyres from their rims. I was doing 45kmph with only deflated rubber and wafer thin alloy rims for traction, not the most confidence boosting or stable position in the world. Thankfully I maintained control and pulled over. Outside assistance is forbidden, so I had spent hours balancing the probability of equipment failure against the weight of spares to avoid humping half a ton of emergency parts around the course. 2 x inner tubes, 3 x CO2 inflators, 4 x puncture patches, a split link (to repair a broken chain) and a lightweight multi-tool (to tighten or adjust ‘things’). Now with 2 tubes and inflators used and not even a third of the route covered I was in for a nervous few hours. Mid way through changing my rear tube Willie sped past, we shouted encouragement at each other and minutes later I was back on the road, chasing him down for the second time. It took me a good few miles to catch him, as soon as I did we discussed my timing chip issue. He agreed with option 3 and told me to stop worrying and crack on, although his choice of words was a far less polite. I pushed on, but half an hour late heard Willie’s voice throwing good-humoured abuse as he closed the gap. Not that there was a competition between the two of us, but life is a competition, and I was counting on a strong bike leg to create breathing space on the marathon; Willie being a much quicker runner. We had done 3600+ miles of bike training together, so I was not surprised to see him riding out of his skin.
After Pembroke the route got serious, roads narrowed and the climbing began in earnest. I had been here before, so was well aware of the pain that lay ahead. The main antagonists, Wisemans Gate and Saundersfoot reach gradients of 17% and would sap the life out of already tired legs. We had to climb them both, twice! I’ve been told that Ironman is 25% physical, 75% psychological, success requires physical strength, but more so mental robustness to beat the sheer scale of the event. I use coping mechanisms and those climbs are a good example of my goals and rewards. Goal, keep my heart rate below 150bpm. My reward is one of the four rhubarb and custard boiled sweets that I carried specifically for that challenge (one per climb), no success, no sweet. On the climb I actually concentrated more on the reward than the strain my legs were under. The only thing that snapped me out of my rhubarb and custard dream was the volume of the crowd. Both climbs were mobbed with people in a scene reminiscent of Alp D’Huez during Le Tour De France, ok, perhaps a slight exaggeration, but close. On the second lap I saw Mark Livsey, his bike in pieces. For him Ironman Wales was over, yet he remained at the side of the road to cheer us all on. I am sure he was distraught inside, however, it demonstrates the heart of an Ironman and made me even more determined to finish strong.
Considering the battle with the wind, I was pleasantly surprised with my ride time of almost bang on six hours. Unfortunately my own watch would be the only record of the ride, no timing chip, no time, a matter I would have to discuss with the race directors during T2.
T2 and Run (42km)
As I rolled into transition and tackled the race director part of me still believed my lost timing chip would result in disqualification. After a brief explanation that ended with “don’t even think about trying to stop me” I was pointed in the direction of a new chip and assured that it was fine. Needless to say, I was smiling as I entered the changing area for the second time.
Before running I had to loose the skin suit used during the ride. Its protective pad did a great job of safeguarding obvious areas whilst on the bike, but a marathon in them would be akin to running in a wet nappy. By the time I had changed and replaced the timing chip Willie was racking his bike. We had been racing for well over seven hours and there was barely a five-minute gap between us, a quick “see you on the run mate” and I was off.
Deep down inside I knew that I had not really done the miles in training, preferring to cycle. My legs wanted to continue the circles performed on the bike rather than stride out and accept the impact of running. Four laps of a course that totalled 42km stood between me and my Ironman dream. I was feeling the pressure, I spotted my girlfriend and my youngest daughter in the crowd, a hug from each lifted my spirits, I had time in the bank and would crawl if I had to.
After Tenby came 3km of gradual but continual climbing, oh the joy. My plan had been to break the run down, focus on each of the four laps individually; however, quickly I realised that smaller goals were required. Every 2km there was a feed station, these became my target, “just concentrate on the making it to the next set of drink filled tables”. Phase two of my nutrition strategy called for Mule Kicks (carbohydrate gels), backed up by flat coke and water (provided at each feed station). There was still a long way to go and I needed all the energy and salts I could get.
The Army Triathlon Association (ATA) had volunteered to run one of the feed stations on the way back down the climb towards Tenby. For the Army athletes in particular this was fantastic and always laced with banter. The up-hill section lacked the supporters found in the town centre, it was lonely, self-doubting place, but I now had support teams both in the town and on the hill.
The second half of each loop was equally brutal weaving around the streets and old battlements of Tenby. Numerous times I cursed those who decided to build the town on a hill. The reward for each lap was a bright coloured band placed around my arm. A new mind game, how many bands did those around me have.
Willie had closed the gap, we ran together for a couple of minutes before he pressed on. You had to suffer to conquer this course. Two athletes stumble in front of me and then collapse on the grass verge, exhausted. By the end of lap two I was in suffersville, my pace slowed, every step hurt and even the 2km between feed stations was too far. Mark was still there, supporting, he told me I was “looking strong”, clearly not speaking the whole truth, but it helped. Glen, another top Army triathlete was more realistic “just keep putting one foot in front of the other and don’t stop”! My third coloured band increased my confidence, the end was almost in sight, 10km, 6 miles, once more up that hill, I could do this. As my spirits raised, so did my pace and when I reached the ATA feed station for the final time Mark’s earlier sentiments were closer to the truth, I was feeling strong(ish).
I could feel my emotions rising, anyone who tells you that they did not feel emotional as they completed their first Ironman is either a liar or dead inside. I collected my final brightly coloured band, a few more paces carried me on to the red carpet that marked the final meters to the archway containing the large digital clock, the finish line. 11 hours, 34 minutes and 53 seconds after watching that flare shoot into the sky I heard the announcers voice boom over the loud speakers, “Antony Ireland……you are an Ironman”. Willie was there, after over 400 hours of training and 11 ½ hours of racing there was just 5 minutes between us, deservedly he had crossed the line before me, but as the saying goes, “To Win Is To Finish”, we were both hurting, but both winners!
Ironman UK 2011 by Cpt Richard Mason
The following is a brief summary of my race performance; what happened is now history but I don’t think I will ever forget it.
SWIM Time: 1:06:43
Up near the front, didn’t hear the claxon go off, not much bashing about and fairly smooth. Tried to get on some feet early on but didn’t trust their sighting. At the first turn buoy at the far end got on some feet and had an easy ride until far buoy. Turned for long straight bit which seemed to take forever. Came off feet at start of 2nd lap and decided to go alone, no more feet. Got into rhythm all on my own, boring, boring as usual uneventful seemed to take forever to get from start to swim exit.
Up the ramp and running faster than anybody else into T2. GET OUT OF THE WAY there’s a Kona Slot at stake!
T1 3mins 20 secs
BIKE 5:36:36
Out we go no hiccups, feet firmly in shoes. Down the lane first speed bump no problem, 2nd okay, 3rd bang /crash OHH f*****! Both bottles exit there holders. Retrieve one and out onto the main road. Start to wind it up 20+mph, 140-150 BPM HR, everybody else seems stood still. Arrive in Ad-dlington for first time check; 48 mins. WOOH bang on schedule! Feeling strong, COLT support is amazing. Behind the MASK there are tears.
Start the climb up , not much support yet. The incline begins to tell, work hard out of saddle. Start of 2nd lap up Colt alley, OHHHHH even more support, feel invincible. My lap times are bang on to the minute. Confidence begins to grow, this could be my year. FOCUS on the performance here and now don’t get distracted with the outcome. Top of Sheep House Climb there is new COLT support. How far is Dan up the road? Doesn’t under-stand the question.
Still feeling strong on last lap, final time up COLT alley even more support. My COLT family you are amazing. Don’t be fooled by this Mask of intensity and because I’m not smiling into thinking that you are not appreciated, you have probably given me an extra 5mins motivation a lap, THANK YOU Team COLT.
T2 2mins 2 secs
Try to put trainers on wrong feet, what a prat, must be tired.
RUN3:10:22
Start the run with shoes on correct feet that’s a start,re set Garmin and off we go ,can see Hippy just up the road catch him just after mile 1 ,at mile 3 legs start to feel like my own again. I feel strong bust must stick to pace don’t want to blow later on. On the cycle track get loads of abuse from aid station baby soldiers as is being run by Manchester S.A.S reserves and I know the man in charge ,very amusing .Lonely on the cycle track ,back up onto the main road and there is loads of support .First time into Bolton town centre waiting for the mighty Colt support but there is none must be going to quick ,spoke to soon as I start up The steep hill for the first time out of a back street walks my lovely wife and Big Sister good timing girls. Going up the hill, the young pretender is coming the other way still looking good, anybody can look good coming down hill but if he starts to crack I’ll chase him down.
OHH this is dragging up past the park but the support is good and I am in the Zone and running well. At the turn around and band pick up they are playing AC-DC ohh heaven.Shout at the Hippy coming the other way and then the Hobbit not far behind I feel like I’m in a Lord of the Rings scene being hunted down by Orcs and Goblins ,they going to have their work cut out today though I feel on one .
2nd Lap into town centre and the colt support has arrived to push us on ,back up the hill and start the slog up to turn around, flys by.
Last lap here we go hammer up the hill Dan still there ,up towards park and Dan comes the other way ,he’s got it in the bag now ,I shout encouragement and settle back into working up the rise.
Collect my last band and its 3 miles home, LOZ appears on his bike and shouts your in F<<<<<<<< 3RD I almost start to cry ,the dream is coming true ,get a grip you ARSE and get this race finished ,I am now on one ,7min miles slight downhill faster and faster ,into the town centre COLT support on the corner going mental .I am now digging out blind ,at the back of the town hall I glance the finish clock 9:57 OHHHHHHHHHHH I new it would be close ,I HAVE TO GET THERE into the finishing funnel like a runaway bull ,the rotary club marshal looks quite startled .Dan shouts at the corner 1 minute to go sub 10 ,the clock comes into sight 9:58 just moves onto 9:59 ten yards I’M OVER THE LINE clocked stopped at 9:59:05.
I am numb I can’t believe I have done it ,done what ,Sub 10hrs ,am I 3rd on the podium, have I qualified for Kona.
I see Sarah and my Big Sister by the barrier, hugs and kisses they confirm what I think I already know .I cry, for the first time in Iron man History the Mask is off.
IT MUST BE A DREAM
Reflections
Over 2 weeks have past now, the dust has settled and its time to look back on a memorable day. IT WASN’T A DREAM, I have a place at the IRONMAN WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS in on the 8th Oc-tober, I have my 3rd place IRONMAN UK Trophy and I have my new IM personal best 9hrs 59minutes and 5 seconds sub 10hr time. I achieved 3 of my major goals in IRONMAN all in one day.
“What now ?” said Sarah as we drove away from the Reebok Stadium after the awards cere-mony,” is that it now are you going to pack it all in and do something else or just put your feet up and concentrate on your coaching” .I just laughed, a laugh she has heard a thousand times before .
AND FINALY I don’t up want to give it up ,first and foremost I have to go out to Hawaii in October and put in a good performance and show that I can perform with the best of the best . I have enjoyed my racing and training more this season than ever, I seem to have got that back after a disappointing 2010.
COLT goes from strength to strength and after the SUPPORT at IM its official we have the best club in the WORLD bar none.
THANKYOU
TO
• COLT SUPPORT
• John Knapp , Training partner ,adviser and friend
• Iron man Alfie & His Girlfriend Winifred (Cocker Spaniels) for making me run off road 5 days a week which keeps my legs injury free.
• To Hayley and Charlotte who provide inspiration for striving to be the best and reminding me not to take myself and life too seriously
• Sarah Mason my NO 1 Girl ,who has been there through good and bad
SEE YOU IN HAWAII
CAPTAIN MASON
Ironman UK 2011 by Chris Lawson
The Week before When people asked me how I was feeling about the race, I described it as like “a 5 year old in the run up to Christmas”, I was excited – that was until a couple of days before the race, when nerves started to kick in – also I was finding it tough mentally to cut back on the training during the taper, I was constantly thinking...I shouldn't be here sat on the sofa, I should be out on my bike!
I had booked a hotel nearby to stay at – (it seemed like a good idea at the time), and after listening to the “mandatory pre race briefing” (basically don't draft!), I went back to the hotel for a “peaceful” nights sleep, I was trying to get to sleep about 8ish to be up at half 2....I drifted off to sleep, only to be awoken by a Wedding Disco which was in the room directly beneath me – it hadn't entered my head that at a big hotel on a Saturday in summer there would be a wedding on. At half ten I went to reception to ask to move rooms, but apparently the hotel was full, and I had to put up with it. Think I had all of 2 hours sleep that night.....not the pre race rest I was hoping for.
Got the bus from the Reebok at 3-40, made nervous conversation with those nearby, got to Pennington Flash, checked my bike (all good), inflated tyres.....went and looked at water, visited the loo a number of times, before getting into the wetsuit.
The Swim
As many of you will know, having seen me on a number of occasions hanging onto a safety canoe at Carnforth lake, Im not a confident OW swimmer, quite the opposite. Early in the season, I react badly to the cold, and panic – then it’s always in the back of my mind every swim I do – the daft thing is, I know I'm a decent enough (yet very slow) swimmer, and managed a 3K swim in Wigan and the COLT IM distance swim a few weeks before – I knew I could do the distance.
As we all funnelled into the water, I chatted to the other Chris's, messrs Wild and Clarke, the nerves seemed to have eased a little.
As I’d planned, I hung back from the start line, off to the right, with a few others, I heard them play the national anthem, then heard a cheer, and I could see the “proper swimmers” start.
The problem with hanging back so much (whilst you don't get punched or kicked to the same extent) is that you have further to swim! The start was in deep water, and I guess I started about 200 / 300M back, so for a very average swimmer like me, it took me quite a while to get to the start line, before I had the 3.8K swim to do. After about 10 mins, I got into a rhythm, and didn't get knocked around by other swimmers too much, other than having trouble sighting on the initial stretch, I seemed to get round the first lap OK, checked my watch, said about 40 mins, which was what I expected going to lap 2.Another circuit, and when I got round to the bottom, I was pleased to be heading to the swim exit....seemed to take forever to get there, and to get pulled up on the shore.
I had told everyone beforehand that I would feel better as soon as I got the wetsuit off, I was glad to get it out of the way, with no panic attacks and no need of a safety canoe! The swim time was 1.33 – a bit slower than I had wanted, but I had got out of the water in one piece, which was the main thing.
The Bike
Had a full change in T1 (decided to go for bib shorts for the comfort – 112M is a long way in tri shorts), and for whatever reason, my helmet buckle had decided to be awkward, so was in T1 for 10 mins – far slower than I would have liked, but as I kept thinking to myself, it’s a long day, don't rush things, keep calm and keep HR low.
I had biked the course a couple of times, but never the “dog leg” onto the loop, it was a slight steady climb and I tried to keep a steady pace in an easy gear at first, started the bike with Ian Bailey and Peter Sarwee nearby, nerves had all gone now with the swim out of the way, just a case of knuckling down and not overdoing it. Was amazed with the support of the Bolton people on the streets, clapping and cheering, and tried to remember to thank people and to keep a smile on my face and make sure I enjoyed the day.
As I came into Addlington, Peter was just ahead of me, and he went down Colt Alley first, the volume went through the roof as we went through, Sarah P had said to me that she would give me the loudest cheer as I went passed as it meant I had got out of the water in one piece....she certainly did! Remember saying to Pete how much of a lift it gave you and how good you felt.
I had done the hill a couple of times, and knew that it wasn't a “horror” (certainly compared to the hills in the lakes which Capt Mason had taken us up on the training weekend earlier this year), but as I had to go up it 3 times, I deliberately took it steady....saw people walking up it the first time round....made me feel slightly better about my biking “abilities”.
I mentally cut the race down into small chunks, between feed stations, where my wife and her mum were stood, Colt Alley, the hill etc. My speed on the bike was very steady if unspectacular, but I was cautious and concious that I had a marathon to knock out after the bike and didn't want to blow.
My nutrition strategy was working fine,.....Hammer gels every 30 mins, and also ensuring that I was taking on enough liquid, I had practised this enough in training and seemed to be paying off.
I recall Capt Mason and Hippy coming past me, offering encouragement (they were also relieved that Id got out of the water intact!) - I struggled a little on lap 2, not sure why, but by the time I had the hill out of the way on Lap 3 I knew that I had nailed the bike, it was a case of sitting tight, keeping spinning and trying to keep the smile on my face. I'm not sure why, but apparently lap 3 was my quickest.
When I came into Rivington I was relieved to be able to turn right towards the school rather than left back up the hill again...my legs were a bit tired, head felt OK (nutrition stragey spot on!) ...backside bit sore from 7+ hours in saddle with only one brief stop at an aid station...just a marathon to go then!
The Run
Full change of clothes at Rivington – out of the cycling gear into Tri top and shorts....slow in transition again, but what the heck...the aim was to finish. Whilst I had thought out what sort of times I would do the swim and bike in...but hadn't thought too much about the run...whilst I had done loads of run & brick training basically I wasn't sure how my legs would feel after a 112 mile bike.
As I set off down towards Chorley New Road, the legs actually felt better than I had thought, I kept looking at my watch and saw that I was doing sub 9 min miles.....I knew that would be too much for me to sustain, so I eased back a little. I have had a niggly hamstring since the Great North Run last year...I knew it was OK as long as I didn't try and go too quick...at 9min miles + I thought it should be fine.
I stopped early on to stretch my hamstrings and stopped at the first aid station...coke and a gel.....I had heard that flat coke was great for the run, and so It proved....though by the end of the run I had had more than enough of Apple and Cinnamon Powergels...I never want to see another of those as long as I live!
After the drag off CNR, we rejoined it near the school, and again the Bolton crowd were fantastic, out on the streets (some with a pint in their hand!) and giving us all great support. There were more people at Bolton Town Centre, and the Colt crew were there in force, each time I ran past them, I gave them all high 5's, and felt like I was running (or shuffling!) on air. When you reached the town centre, you saw the finish, and the clock, and then turned back to go back up the hill back to Chorley New Road.
Whilst I had a nutrition strategy nailed for the bike, I hadn't anything sorted for the run, I walked through the aid stations, picked up gels/coke/gatorade as I thought right, then carried on. Surprisingly, there were no points on the run when I had a “black moment” when I thought I couldn't do it, I knew from my watch that my pace had dropped, and I walked various parts (thinking I'll walk to the next lampposts etc) and walked the hill on the laps as I didn't think it worth burning energy trying to run up it).
At the top of each lap, I collected the bands, and with 2 to go, I looked at the clock and was surprised at the time...things were going better than I’d thought and sub 14 was a possibility. Saw Chris W in the Town Centre (he'd already finished) and he told me that it was “in the bag” and I could “walk it backwards” and still finish before the cut off.
Seeing the other Colt first timers on the run was a highlight, plenty of high 5's and encouragement, the other highlight obviously being the finish...as I came down to the town centre I showed off my 3 bands proudly the Colt support before turning towards the finishing straight.
I remembered Crazy's advice and took my time down the finish chute and milked it...slowing (even further) and giving the supporters even more high 5's, and as the photos at the end showed I had the biggest smile on my face possible.
Like all of us, I had trained so hard for this, lost numerous brownie points with Mrs Lawson, got up far too early on weekends for 5/6 hour bikes, nipped away from work early to fit a swim session in, but to finish, and to hear the commentator call my name as I came to the finish made it all worthwhile!
My aim was to finish within the cut off time, I had privately thought that if everything worked OK, I could do between 14-15hrs....to do in 13,33 was fantastic, and beyond what I had hoped.
People told me during the training that IM racing was addictive...I didn't feel it during the training, but having finished, I want to have another go next year, if not at Bolton, somewhere else, but I'll certainly be in COLT alley in Addlington supporting those that do it next year.
Ironman Regensburg 2011 by John Sutton
It was raining when I got up at 4:30am; it was raining as the swim started at 7:00; and it only finally stopped some 7 hours later as I neared the end of the bike ride. At one point, on a fast descent, it was raining so hard the drops hurt as they hit your face. The guy next to me was laughing grimly, he’d forgotten his glasses and couldn’t see. Luckily, the temperature remained reasonably high, still low enough for some of the low BMI types to be shivering uncontrollably as their skinny frames tried to deal with being soaked for 6 hours. I had planned superbly for just this scenario: my pre race diet of high fat German food had left me with the constitution to laugh off the effects of the rain and I didn’t feel cold at all.
Ironman Regensburg was my first beach start for a triathlon which considering there were over 2,000 starters made me a little nervous. I needn’t have been, it all went off very smoothly. The warm and clean water of the Guggenberger See and the 4 open water swims I’d done in Austria the week before quickly allowed me to settle into a relaxed rhythm. I completed the swim in 1:34 which wasn’t fast, but I felt fine as I cleared T1 in less than 5 minutes and immediately settled into an aero tuck heading for the hills above Regensburg. The bike course is most definitely a game of 2 halves (or should I say, 4 quarters, as it consists of 2 80km loops followed by a 20km run into the centre of Regensburg). After a pan flat start the route starts climbing after about 8km and continues in that vein for the next 25km or so. None of the climbs are steep and they are punctuated by some fast descents. Once you reach the small town of Brennberg the course loops south and you lose all that height that you gained with some “fast as you dare” descents. Once back in the valley of the Danube you’re on the aerobars and you are going to stay that way for the next 2 hours until you finish loop 1 and set off up the climb to Brennberg again.
For some reason I don’t seem to be bothered by the rain and I found the ascents pretty easy compared to what I’m used to in North Lancashire. The smooth roads also inspire confidence in descending so, despite the notoriously bad breaking that you get with carbon wheels in the wet, I fairly ripped through the first half of loop 1. The second half is all about aero dynamic efficiency and is pretty dull to be honest. The few gentle rises come as a welcome relief as the tension builds in the shoulders from kilometres in an aero tuck. Even with the awful weather, the support in every village was tremendous with the burghers of Mintraching carrying the honours of noisiest and most enthusiastic crowd.
I finished loop one in under 2 hours and 40 minutes which was way faster than my best schedule and put me on a 6 hour bike schedule. This was a matter of some concern. Was I going too fast? Would I pay for it later? The climbs on lap 2 felt a little harder, but nothing that I couldn’t cope with. It was only when I got back to the Danube flood plain for the second time that I began to feel tired. The extended periods on the tri bars built up extra tension in the shoulders and hips making the ride increasingly uncomfortable. Being doubled up also had the added effect of making the consumption of energy gels ever less appealing. The light headwind was taking its toll and I was dropping a gear or 2 down the cassette. Long periods of high gear grinding was building up pain in my knees, but I’ve noticed in the past that this usually quickly dissipates on the run, so I wasn’t unduly concerned. In fact, I kept up good form until the final 10km flat run into town where I eased right back to take on a couple of gels and extra water to try and help with the start of the run. My bike split was 6:14, a personal best of some 40 minutes, which considering that 5:30 of it had been raining, was fairly pleasing.
At least it was dry as I exited T2 but I knew right from the start that I would be in for a hard time. The run was 4 loops of 10.5k through the picturesque old town of Regensburg and nearby parks. There are no gradients worth mentioning and it would present an ideal course for a fast marathon. The enthusiastic crowd in the altstadt helps to keep you motivated when mind and body begin to flag.
I started the run with a nasty stitch which reduced me to a shuffle almost immediately. Luckily it didn’t last too long and by walking the feeds and taking on plenty of cola I managed to complete the first 2 laps without a break from my shuffle. It wasn’t pretty, but progress was steady, which, if sustained would have given me a sub 13 hour finish. Sadly, on the 3rd lap the mind caved and the walks, after taking on cola and cake at the feedstops, became longer. At the start of the final lap I had a real light headed wobble and had to walk for a sustained period before recovering enough to pick pick up a slow but painful jog. It was turning out to be my slowest Ironman marathon yet, surely as a result of a a bike time that was beyond my ambitions.
Seeing my family wearing their custom “Team John” t shirts was a massive boost on each lap, especially knowing that Rachel, my sister-in-law and her husband, Kev, had flown out to support me. But even that didn’t prevent making that last lap a real Calvary. I finally staggered in to the finish in 5:24 giving me an overall finish time of 13:36, just 6 minutes outside my target time.
That’s 3 Ironman finishes now and each one has been faster than the last. Significantly, each time my bike split gets faster, but the concomitant to that is a slower run. I suspect that this is the result of me only managing an average of 7 hours a week training: it’s enough to get me to the finish of an Ironman, but not enough to sustain me through the run in any sort of style.
Ironman Regensburg is done and dusted. I think it would make an excellent race for any Ironman first timer: it’s well organised and the course is fast. In a future post I’ll be giving some tips on travel, logistics and race planning for anyone thinking about putting this race on their schedule.
I’m writing this on the flight home from Munich to Manchester with a very tired family. I’m stiff and tired, but nothing is broken; pain is most definitely temporary, but the memories of Ironman Regensburg will remain for a long time.
You can check out Johns guide to the race here.
Ironman UK 2011 by Andy Ley
Preparation.... What to do weekly sent from the Captain, easy :) Swim training on Thursdays and Monday Open Water Swims. 2.4 mileish swim thanks to Andy McCracken well before Ironman which really settled the nerves. It was the 1st time I’d done that distance and made me confident I could finish the swim part of the IM.
The Day......... Woke up at midnight by someone arguing with his misses. Go through the race till 2 in my head for the millionth time. Get up, breakfast and before I know it were setting off. See Paul & Chris Gardner picking up Tony so stop for a chat, were all buzzing. Tony walks down his drive with a massive grin, claps his hands and says bring it on. What an excellent attitude, nerves seem to disappear with that.
The Venue...... Park at the pub car park right at the front of the Flash as we get there at 04:10. Body marked and off to put drinks on my bike, pump up my tyres to the right pressure and have a chat with Kev Lindeque. On with the wetsuit and have pics taken with Mrs L, bump into COLTs on short walk to swim and next thing I know I'm stood next to Crazy waiting to get into the water.
The Swim...... I'm told by Crazy not to race anyone just get on someone’s feet that’s the same standard as me. Turn around and Peter Sariwee is with us, have a quick chat and then someone walks past carrying something with everyone clapping. He's carrying a lad from the Team True Spirit for injured servicemen; bloody hell puts it all into perspective. Short swim to the start and bob up and down and wait on the left hand side. Chat to the Iron Hobbit then realise he flies through the water what am I doing near him so move back a bit. Surreal moment treading water and listening to a thousand odd people chatting! Horns goes and were off, I'm doing ok but it's hard work with so many people around you or trying to get past/over you. At the 2nd buoy I'm ok and get to the turn and go right, wrong I hit a wall of people and people start pointing for me to go the other way... Oooooo its anti clock wise! I'm off again racing a bloke next to me, remember what Crazy says and let the lad go past me and I'm on his toes for the next lap. Time... 1hr 19mins
The Bike....... Garmin h/monitor isn't working! It says I'm in zone 6 for the 1st hour then zone 5 for next 2 hours, there’s no way I'm working that hard so I have to go off how I feel. Get to the start of the loops under an hour so happy and to top it off see the support at COLT alley. I know the course now and feel great after seeing them. Apart from Sheephouse Lane the next 20 miles I love, a couple of minor uphill drags but I'm happy. See couples riding together, loads of drafting and groups of lads chatting. After seeing the COLTs at the top of Sheephouse Lane on my 2nd lap my left thighs starting to cramp and I hardly see anyone on the bike so my head starts messing with me. I'm taking gels every 20mins and the waters going down well but not a lot of Gatorade. Thighs and back painful now but make it to COLT alley and the noise is deafening, I was that emotional I nearly broke down and see Mandy so just crack on feeling as high as hell. Garmin starts to work on 3rd lap so into middle of zone 2 and stay there for the duration. The pain is forgotten and I actually enjoy the final lap knowing I will go past COLT alley again and head to T2. Time... 7hr 18mins
The Run..... Start off at just over 9 min mile pace, legs feel ok. Get onto the loop and hear "go COLTs" it's the Iron Hippy he catches up with me gives me a pep talk; brief chat about Lanza then buggers off :) Feel excellent after that then see Paul Gardner coming the other way and we shout encouragement to each other. Into the centre of town and the COLT supporters go mad, I'm like a dog with 2 thingy’s now. 2nd lap slower go past the COLT supporters again and get round the corner and decide to walk until another COLT clan with flags go nuts so I crack on. You see a majority of COLTS which helps and I join Tony B on the run home. Were chatting away, walking, running and taking it all in. I honestly can't explain what it's like finishing and the medal around you after all the hard graft you’ve put in getting there. Time… 4hrs 20mins
Got to thank my wife and all the COLT support crew. You would have to enter an IM to understand how good you feel biking/running past a load of friends giving you high fives {I never do high fives} who are willing you to finish. Thank you!
Would I do it again? Yes!
Lanza next then maybe just maybe Bolton again!
Ironman UK 2011 by Peter Sariwee
IMUK eve – Arrived at T1, Bike racked, bag checked and racked, walked to the lake to have a look at the swim enter and exit, sat down at a bench had time to reflect on the training I had done since January, the only concern I had in the back of my mind was my heel injury from the Tri Grand Prix 70.5 another first for me distance wise. Since end of May I haven’t done any running due to my injury, but was confident I would complete the marathon with determination and adrenalin alone. Arrived at T2 racked bag and got a phone call from BBC Radio Lancaster, to see if I was interested to do a live interview over the phone with them, so of course I said yes, so to add to the race nerves already for Sunday I had more nerves now to do this interview. At 3.50pm received a phone call and was interviewed live on BBC Radio I was very nervous but enjoyed the experience, now off to the race meeting at Bolton FC. Very professionally done I thought, clear on the rules and regulations etc. Drove home to Lancaster and had some more pasta, yum.... went to bed about 8.30pm couldn’t sleep at all, felt like I was an 8 year old on Christmas eve again very excited, finally got an hours sleep.
IMUK Race Day – Up at 1am, showered and eating breakfast, which consisted of porridge, a banana, toast with honey, coffee and orange juice. Got picked up at 3.20am by the bus and had a 10 min walk to the start line and T1, which gave me time to start planning what I need to do before I got changed. Unwrapped bike, body parts numbered, last visit to the loo and now wetsuit on. Feeling really nervous now, started to make way to the start line to get into the water, such an honour and humble experience to see the army lads and girls carry an injured trooper who was a bilateral amputee, down to the water’s edge, put my niggles and injuries to shame. What real heroes.
Swim – The weather was perfect, cloudy, not a ripple on the lake. Entered the water, got to near the start line on the right hand side of the buoys, thinking it was a good place to be, how wrong I was, got more motivation by the national anthem, the hooter went off and we where off, at first got a good start, then got punched, kicked and slapped, even got the bruises to show off. It was mental everyman for himself, it was like being in a washing machine, but hey I knew becoming an ironman wouldn’t be easy, after the 1st lap it eased, so got into a good pace, for me anyway, swimming is certainly my weak point. Could now see the finish line for the swim and the start of T1 got helped out of the water, announcer called my name and swim time 01:32:13 pleased with that, so jogged to T1 to get dryed and sorted for the bike ride.
Bike – After a quick bite to eat of some soreen banana malt loaf and handful of apricots, grabbed my bike and started running to the bike mount, was nice to see Chris Lawson alongside me for some of the ride, had a good chat and just got into my race pace, drinking when I needed to, gel every 40-45 mins and some mule flapjack snacks every 2 hours, Lap 1 went well was nice to see the COLT army cheering me on what a big boost that gave me thanks guys, was great to see Philip Graves at the top of the hill cheering us on, Lap 2 was still feeling good, wasn’t that bothered by the hill we climbed thanks to my triple set and plenty of bike training due to the fact I couldn’t run since May and needed to compensate with more bike training, Lap 3, started getting cramp in my fingers, which I’ve never encountered before, again the Colt army cheering me on was amazing gave me more strength, Lap 4, got to the 90 mile mark and thought nearly there now, checked watch for times was ahead of my estimated times, well pleased, carried on 105 miles, longest ride I’ve ridden before, was getting worried about getting a puncture at this point as there was quite a few athletes on the side of the roads fixing punctures, seen one guy vomiting, didn’t look good, finally got to 112 miles and the school the last 22 miles seem to have taken forever, still felt good, but need a pee, legs where a bit tired, numb bum but hey 112 miles going to be tough and got interviewed by the TV camera crew, looking forward to seeing that interview can’t remember what they said or asked me!!!! Handed my bike to the volunteers, who done a great job on the day, ran into the school, went the toilet, got changed and put trainers on. Bike done in 07:36:11
Run – This was the part I wasn’t looking forward to due to my heel injury, legs felt fine, heel felt fine so started running, 1st 8 miles felt fine running along the canal, times where slow but hey I was running, aid stations where a god send, stacking up with fluids, got onto the lap section of the marathon, was amazed to see all the people cheering me on along the route, well spurred me on, got near the Bolton town hall, the mighty COLT army where there cheering me one, nice one guys, you where all amazing, then seen Lisa and my friends who cheered me on brilliant plenty of positive thoughts running through my mind now, felt really great at this point, Lap 2 and my heel gave up on me, thanks to Chris Wild and his wife, who came to my aid, they gave me paracetamol and ibuprofen, which certainly helped ease the pain, was still limping but pain had gone, high 5’ing some of the COLT members still running was good to see them for morale, Lap 3 final Lap was amazing, was determined to run the whole Lap, was running and getting more cheers from the crowd, it was amazing, ran past the COLT army for the final time, got to the turn off section proudly waved my 3 wrist bands at the officials, then proceeded to the finish line, gave everyone high 5’s, seen Lisa and my friends, was great to see them, then the most proudest time of my life, I heard my name being called out, Peter Sari wee you are an IRONMAN..... dropped to my knees bowed to the heavens and had a tear in my eye, this is the proudest day of my life..... I am an Ironman!!!! Crossed the line at 14:31:58 so proud of my achievement.
Thank you to the COLT army for all the support, you guys where amazing!!!!
IronMan Lanzarote 2011 by Chris Wild
I've been stuck in an Ironman rut, for a few years now. IM Lanzarote, followed by an injured atttempt at IM UK. I thought 2010 was the end of that. Lanzarote was almost the perfect race, with 5 fellow COLTs turning up to my home race, and smashing over 45 mins off my PB in almost windless conditions. Why bother returning? This occassion could not be topped, and even the captain was taking sensible decisions and focussing elsewhere. I'd signed up for 2011 before I'd even considered I had other life choices. It was to be the twentieth edition, and I had challenges from other friends to settle.
Winter training went well; the knees were holding up, I'd finally upgraded to a carbon bike, and I got to play with it for the whole of March in the wind, rain, and hail in Lanzarote. A ride of the course on a windy day (where I consumed 4.5 litres in 6 hours and still lost over 2% bodyweight!) clearly demonstrated that on a 'normal' race day, sub 5:40 for the bike was not repeatable, even with better equipment.
We arrived a week before the race to hot, humid, calm conditions, with Colima sand filling the sky. Forget the short sharp taper session, that stuff is really bad for your lungs. Talk of a race day hotter than last year dominated conversation. A couple of big thunderstorms cleared the air, and the wind began to freshen. By race day, the forecast was for everything; sun, rain, and a good steady northerly of around 19mph - a typical IM Lanza day.
Clan Wild had expanded, to take up the slack of missing COLTs, and I probably had 30 friends racing and the same cheering around the course. Typical build-up, follow the routines, and chill. Two punctureds tubs in two days, was not good, but improved the stats for a puncture free race. Sharing the track with Natascha Badmann, 6-time world champion, was a nice moment though!
Here we go again...the swim start was rough, and I started a little far back on the beach with friends, but I'm learning to enjoy the washing machine, and just try to protect my head. Someone actually put their fingers in my mouth whilst I was breathing, and it was also the first time anyone has deliberately grabbed and pulled on my ankle. Still, lap 1 was brilliant and I caught a great draft along the return leg to exit in 31 mins. My mind raced ahead to getting close to an hour, but lap 2 was not so good, and I was pleased to scrape a new PB of just under 1:04.
I took it really easy on the rollers out and around Puerto Del Carmen. Well my legs were saying easy, but my heart was racing at and above threshold pace. Listen to your legs and your brain, not the adrenalin-fuelled number on your watch. Fire mountain into the headwind, in the rain, was far from fiery, but I had a nice chat to the Outlaw organiser for a couple of moments. Then on up north to the mountains, strangely bathed in hot sunshine and strong winds. The road back was also hot, with a side/tail-wind producing little air movement. It was difficult to compare my time with last year, given the longer loop at the start, to counter the missed climb back to Teguise and the short-cut along the rough old road. I thought I was around 15 minutes down most of the way up, so sub-6 was still on. At the point the courses converged, I knew I was only 10 down, so was really pleased, given the somewhat less idyllic conditions. Rolling into transition under 5:45 was happy days indeed. T2 was awful; it should be on YouTube as 'how not to make a quick transition'. Shoe on - oh look, there's that tubigrip - shoe off. I spent so much time dropping stuff (including the ibuprofen for my somewhat swollen knee), that the sun-cream girls went to town, and I emerged, fighting with my cap, which was losing a battle with the wind, looking more like a camp Uruk-Hai, than a triathlete!
Knees working, stomach working, a little overheated, but with 3:44 to complete the marathon for a PB against my wildest dreams. I enjoyed the run out past the airport last year, seeing TFC striding the other way, still looking OK, and wondering how long before El Capitan and the Grand Master hunted me down. This year it was horrible. A block headwind slowed me to shffling pace, and I thought I'd cracked. The PB was gone. Calm, focus, walk the aid stations. The turn explained why I'd felt so bad, as I flew back with the tailwind. 2 hours to do 22k, thats 30 mins per turn, just focus, walk the aid stations and keep hydrated and carrying ice cubes. The first two went really well, and I was beating my good Danish rival (we were 2-2 in a best of 5!) by nearly 10k. Two more 30-minuters and its in the bag! I hate that last out-lap. They say don't try to race til 6 miles to go; Its around this point I'm generally broken. The soles of my feet felt blistered, I was way too hot, I was bloated from coke and water, but had to keep drinking to get the cool feeling in my dry mouth. A couple fo the aid station walks were interspersed with additional walks, as I tried to regain focus. 33 minutes. Oops!
So close, yet I needed to do the fastest lap of the four to stand a chance. Ironman isn't supposed to be easy; man-up, get on with it, and rest at the end. I was quickly overtaken by I guy I caught after 15k. He was hoping for 10:35, but wanted to get as close as he could. He was certainly running faster than me, so I just tried to match his pace. It felt no worse. 2k in, and h was fading badly, but I caught a friend from my very first tri-camp in 2005. He was 22k behind me, still on the long lap, but was running well, so we chatted, and he upped his pace for 500m to stay with me and help me focus. 2k to go, 11 minutes to get there. Offer me that any day of the week, and I'll bite your hand off. Unless the day was Sat 21st May 2011, around 5:30pm! Just run, its too close not to. I got Mason-esque tunnel vision; I could hear people shouting, I could even see them, but I was unable to respond, I was just running. My legs were on fire, like pins and needles on blisters, but constant glancing at my watch told me the pace was good. If Fi isn't in the right place then she aint gonna finish number 6! I couldn't even scan the crowd, just run; nothing else. Finally the clock, and a stretch of downhill to the finish - is that 10:38 or 10:39? Looks like an 8, but no chances, speed up!! Fi was right where she needed to be, having had many years practice, about 100m out, and easily outstripped me to within yards of the line - dressed in fancy dress grass skirt and lei. She's been teasing me she deserves a trip to the Pacific, but knew this was as close as she would get. Over the line and relax. A full 63 seconds off the PB, and 5 minutes off my best marathon time. Job done. I'm sure there's a 3:30 IM marathon in me somewhere, but this was never going to be that day. If I can learn to run the last 15k the way I can run the last 5, then I may manage a decent marathon one day.
10:39, and 21st in my age-group, 133rd overall, and mixing it with the women pro's at least. Watching a mate collect his slot the next day, it transpired that my age-group rolled down one place to 12th, and I was 14 minutes away. That doesn't sound much, and its a very pleasing to get that close, but it is literally miles away.
So how do I give up this race? Simple....I don't! I'm already signed up for 2012, and would love to join that select group of 10-in-a-row atheletes. Only 4 to go, before I have to rethink again. The WTC licence has been renewed for at least 3 years, and there are plans to try and cram a few more participants in - or just allow more to register, in the hope that a full compliment will start.
Come and join me for fun next year; its going to be another COLT Clasic I think!
IronMan World Championship 2010 by John Knapp
Hawaii 2010. Lots of people from COLT wished me well before the race and many of you had been instrumental in getting me through some of the tougher training sessions perhaps without even realising it. Triathlon's a pretty selfish sport, I'm concious that in most IM events outside of the UK the volunteers out number the athletes and often have a longer day without all the praise and back slapping at the end. So before I launch into my account I would like to just thank you all and the many, many people who I don't know who added to the great event that I've been fortunate enough to get to and complete. It's a truth that these events wouldn't exist without those willing to give up their time and that I wouldn't be there but for the support I get at home.
I took a long break from work and got out there 2 weeks before the race. Well worthwhile for both the time difference and acclimatisation compared. Even that duration before Kona its clearly an IM venue with athletes massing at the pier every morning to swim and parades of runners and cyclists in aero everything on Allii drive each day. Pro spotting my first morning there was Macca and Crowie, Dibens and Carfrae and then Lawn, Neiderfringer, Granger, Lieto, Berasatagui and no doubt others I couldn't pick from the fantastic swimmers. 2 days before I'd been riding out on the first real frosty morning in Lancashire and now I'm sat on the pier, its over 80 degrees and these guys are just there doing their thing. It feels surreal and so fortunate to be just a little part of all that.
My big worry at the same time was that my bike box, also containing race nutrition and run shoes didn't make it's connections and with no Valerie to calm me I spent an anxious 36hrs dreading the worst. It arrived, no need to have been quite so terse with the poor girl at American. I had a clear taper plan, broadly based on 'Going Long', gradually did my sessions later in the day to feel that heat, 90 degrees on the Queen K, legs always felt achey and heavy, never quite that fresh and ready to race sensation that the books promise and the first runs were brutal. Half a liter of fluid was all I could carry and it wasn't enough for 40mins.
Valerie came out 4 days later and so did my sister with her hsb and kids. We got out of Kona and had a great bit of beach holiday away from the hype. Wonderful except the temptation to play boisterous games all day and drink too much with the Mahi Mahi in the evening.
Back in Kona on the Weds and it's hoaching with athletes, registration is so well staffed, the volunteers fantastic as they walk you through everything, separate briefings for the German and Japanese, the infastructure taking shape. The expo packed with goodies and freebies and the occasional legend, Mark Allan at the next breakfast table, Macca in the hotel lobby.
By this point I'm beginning to feel on a conveyor belt. There's a rythym to IM events especially the larger and best organised ones and once you've been tagged and done your 3 day out brick it just draws you on and in towards the start line. The rituals of putting all your kit out on the bags 2 days before and spending 3 hours thinking about it. There's only the shoes, socks, hat and gels to go in the T2 bag. Every single race its the same, but still you stare at it and triple check the contents. The checking the brakes are centred, cleaning the last dust off the bike, tyre pressures and checking for flints ( I never muck with them race day morning ). Shave the legs, the last spin on the Fri morning, racking and then pasta at 1200 and 1800. A sip of Valeries wine and bed at 2100, wake at 0100, 0200 but quiet the mind and get back off 'til awake 5 mins before the alarm at 0400. Bagels, honey, a little banana, OJ and 2 big coffees (to get the 'colon rollin' as I read somewhere. Not sure I need caffiene for that as I visit the washrooms 4 times in 3 hrs.) Bodymarking is, like everything, very well staffed, more volunteers than athletes and super friendly/supportive. Special needs for the run, check no one's stolen the bike, bump into John C who has some real pre race focus in his face, last q for the portaloo, kiss for the wife and suddenly you are walking over the mat and down the steps into the Pacific wondering how that all happened so quick.
The atmosphere at any IM start is something to bottle, the tension and hope, the anxiety and banter through gritted teeth. It's not going into battle as some make out, but for weekend warriors it's our carefully safe endorphin rush. I'm careful not to smear grease in my goggles but get in quick, swim out wide and stay back. In qualifiers there's large numbers just wanting to get round, here almost everyone is up for it, race faces are on, the start will be frantic. Treading water in the swell, looking up at Hualalai, the crowds along the sea wall sprayed by waves crashing on the rocks. The 150 odd pros have kicked off half an hour before and commentary is going on but then the war cries by the dance troop fade, the star spangled banner crosses the water, the canoeists and paddle boarders marshall the line. Cannon fires.
I punch my watch, its in the wrong mode! everyone is moving, 5 secs later I'm in the back of the thin pack miles to the left. It's beautiful, water's so clear, you can see all the swimmers, the compression socks, the TYR Torque suits others have bought for $300 that week, below it's coral and yellow fish. Sun filters down through in shafts of blue and I'm desparately looking for feet of anyone coming past me. Given my swim there's always a lot with more speed and less ambitious positioning and on this occasion I get lucky with very little jostling to assert that 'these are my feet'. I take one tow all the way to the turn. The course is basically out and back, 1.2 miles in one long length with about 50m turn around. I'm happy we're going straight, occasionally see a bouy on the right and almost never need to sight forward. In the chop I can't see the turn up the course and the shore is so far that you just don't seem to move. I get bored if I'm honest, have to keep focussing, but by half way I know it's going OK. At the turn I lose the nice blue 2XU I've been following but some grey socks come by, faster than anyone else around, I latch on and we move up through the field. I try not to tickle his toes but if I were him I'd have kicked hard to shake me a couple of times. I get up to his knees when towards the end he seems to slow, try jumping on a frothy kicking set of feet without success, but only do the bit by the pier on my own. 1.13 as I stand, a 5 min PB at Hawaii and thats without last years swim skin. Thank you Jim and Martin.
Through the shower, bag grab, change tent is packed, have to roll my tri top on over wet shoulders, volunteer jumps to help, number belt on as I leave, shoes in hand I run the long loop round transition, Adrenalin surging. I'd learnt last year that running in cleats wasn't good with a fall on the corner, helmets have to be on the bike, don shoes, grab bike and out to noise and pandemonium on Palani. Hot corner is a wall of sound.
The bike does a 5 mile loop in town before getting into the real buisness out in the lava, easy to push this at sprint pace with the intensity of support, I do my best to let others go and take it sensible. And all of a sudden you're up the hill, out of town and it's all very quiet apart from the long, long line of athletes. Its only 0830, it's very pleasantly warm and the gentle breeze is on your back. My legs feel better than they have for 3 months. I've not raced without a HRM for 5 years but am this time I'm going just by feel. I didn't want to waste time with the HRM belt in T1. I'm very concious of staying relaxed, watch others push on thier tri bars up the undulations, I know from using a powertap that once I'm below 30kph I gain more power sitting up with no great aero cost. I've taken Joe's nutrition advice to heart. Gels only and I'm only drinking water, as much as I want but without forcing it down. The gels are in the only bottle on my bike. 2 squirts equals a gel and I've nerdishly marked lines on the bottle too. 2 caffiene strapped on the frame go in my pockets straight away. One gel every 20mins, Caffiene at 3 and 5hrs. And then I just kind of settle in and the first 2 hours go by. There's a couple of small packs of people cheating a bit, but it's not too bad given how compressed the field is and the terrain doesn't split you up much until the hill to Hawi. Good to see draft busters actually showing yellow cards.
The next high light is one I've been looking forward to. As I get North you suddenly hear or see the helicopters that follow the Pro leaders that are by now tooling back from Hawi. Suddenly mashing a big gear down a hill at over 40mph it's Chris Lieto, he's past in the briefest second. I pass a guy and feel like chatting about the pro's, he doesn't reply but I'm just so excited to see them. I don't remember the order but I can't see Crowie in the first group and spot Faris on a good ride. Not that much later and it's JulieD. The KSwiss/Trek guys know who to sponsor. I manage to shout for her. Am I the only age grouper who wants to support the pro's? Shortly after and I've stopped thinking of them completely, as we turn the top of the island a huge side wind abruptly blows me across the central reservation. I'm off the tri bars instantly fighting to stay upright. 2 guys are picking themselves out of the dirt. It's monstorous and each gully and hillock cause great wind eddies. Its climbing now too and my pace has halved. No one else looks any better, but there's 10 miles of this. Hawi is the smallest of slightly hippy hangouts, a couple of galleries, a lovely coffee shop and little restaurant but its the turn round and only significant crowd out on the road. I have nothing in special needs and keep moving through. The following descent would be fabulous but for the cross wind. Some take no prisoners, charge down on tri bars, I wimp around on the brakes and must loose some minutes, but its the only time I feel frustrated on the bike. After that it's 2 bottles at every aid station, one to drink, the other over the head. I need to pee twice so am happy about hydration. No stopping mind. Remember the gels and for once my stomach is good and stays that way all the way back to Kona. After all these races I seem to have found the formula that suits me. Coming back you know there will be a head wind, for 5 miles there's a huge blast from the back, doing 50kph at a laugh, and then its a block head wind, but not as bad as it can be and after a couple of rises through the lava you can see the airport and know it's only 10 miles or so to go.
I hit T2 in 7hrs. Off the bike and neither standing or running is working very well, crouched I shuffle round the compound, its a long run to the bags, just hoping that my back thaws out of spasm, it eases, I don't sit to put shoes on for fear of cramp, someone smears masses of gunk on my shoulders and it's back to the noise on Palani. It feels like it must have been like that all day. I can hear my name on the commentary as I try to find some kind of running style. It's not feeling great and I can't get the turnover going. I've a gel in my hand and I can't face it. The sun is beating off the road and the heat surrounds me. I know my family are around the corner so I do my best to run tall with good cadence but I know it's not happening. Still, I've been there before, I want to stop, but somewhere I know that it might get better, so its time to think of the first aid station and all they have to offer. I know I'm going to need to walk through to get enough on board to get up for this run. So it's water, get my hot gel down, some coke, more water, ice under the hat, sponges and get jogging.
Try not to think about the marathon, just focus on the rythymn, get the pitter patter feet going, spot the guy in front and aim for them. The Allii turn is by a little beach and that's the aim. I finally spot John with his trademark camelback a little up the road. We both knew he'd be first our the water, but his bike had shown his great improvement this year and I was left with everything to do on the run. At each aid station (and there's many) it's water, ice, coke and or sport drink, water and then get running again. Feet are saturated and I'll loose 5 nails. A mile or so in and I'm beginning to move slowly up the field only to loose 2 places at every station as I focus on hydration.I join up with John, we're both in separate bubbles of discomfort, wish each other well and then get back on with it. A bit of cloud comes over and the heat is tolerable. I get to gel 5 at 18 miles and the stomach rebels, it bounces straight back up and on to the road. Trotting down into the energy lab I'm not bad and after the turn I run back up. Might not sound like much but I'd failed in this last year. John's coming down the hill and is very enouraging, I can see he's toughing it out but not given in. The runs a lot harder for the big guys. By now it's fluid only and at the top with about 10 k to go I look at my watch for the first time on the run. Until that point I've felt theres been no choice. Just been going as fast as I could in complete denial of how long this thing is, but all of a sudden I can think of the end.
Its about 9.45 and if I want a PB I need a 45min 10k. I find I can push. Neil Mercer from Bolton is up the road and I can see his red kit, all of a sudden I can push more and for the next 2 stations until I catch him I'm running well, but then the surge wears off, perhaps I needed the gels I didn't take in special needs back in the Lab, perhaps I need someone else up there to chase. I slow, I look at my watch, the PB is out the window.
With 2 miles to go the legs are beginning to feel like they're about to stop obeying, they might give way, I slow a bit, begin to think just of the finish, of enjoying it for what it is. Down Palani I don't go for full tilt, take time to grab some water to splash away some of the mire, zip up, glasses on hat, want to look good this last mile. Round the last corner on to Allii and Valerie is stood there with camera, the COLT flag and a huge smile, Neil catchs back up and is looking for his family too. We agree to share a run in, arms aloft, proud with the flags. The last turn, the ramp, the announcer 'YOU ARE AN IRONMAN'.
What a day.
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
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.
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.
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.