The Road to Ironman
“But that’s like swimming 150 lengths, riding your bike to Edinburgh and then doing a Marathon!”
Such is the kind of support you can expect when you tell folk you’ve entered an Ironman. You’d not quite make it to
I joined Sun City Tri after a friend had persuaded me to enter a running race. I trained for it, enjoyed it and did ok so I decided I really should go and see whether triathletes were as unfriendly and terminator-like as I’d always assumed. Of course, it turns out they’re not and I actually really enjoyed it. After a season of local racing there was this little niggling voice inside me that said it had to be an Ironman target next year, so I paid my entry fee before I had a chance to work out exactly what that implied. I’d listened to stories from club members who’d finished one: stories about blood blisters, medical tents, the inability to climb stairs and pain. So I ignored them and concentrated on the stories about elation, achievement and realising ambitions. I decided I didn’t want the hassle of flying and finding accommodation abroad so my race choice rapidly narrowed down to one- Ironman
Training went steadily and long hours of winter commuting built up a reasonable base of fitness on the bike. Apart from annoying Ian, riding a singlespeed bike (53 x 21) had the added benefit of keeping the intensity nice and low. I built up to the full swim distance fairly quickly and the psychological training knowing your swim set every couple of weeks read “1 x 4000” helped get the mental attitude right for the challenges to come. My knees have never really liked long distance running, even if my head and lungs do, so I was cautious about building up the run mileage. When it came to race day I’d never run more than 16 miles continuously so that was a bit of a step into the unknown. Come race season I entered a few local sprint triathlons to keep some race focus as well as a couple of longer races to practise intensity, feeding and “long distance” stuff. Sadly a pothole and a parasite conspired to keep me off the start lines of the longer races so I lined up for the Ironman never having raced further than 750m swim, 20k bike, 5k run. My fastest sprint distance time was the same as my Ironman swim split. Hmm.
An Ironman event is a pretty amazing thing to be part of. With 1100 competitors plus supporters, marshals, volunteers, organisers and hangers-on the atmosphere is special. You just have to keep telling yourself that just because they look fitter than you and talk a faster race, doesn’t mean they’re actually any good. Enjoy the atmosphere but don’t let it intimidate you. Race day began at 4.00am with breakfast ready for a 6am start in the water. It’s an eerie sight as an entire campsite comes alive in the dark and heads over to queue for the toilets.
Thankfully there was no mist to delay the race start and after 200m warm-up out to the start line we were all nicely ready for the klaxon and the off. Given the event had ten times the number of competitors of any previous mass-start swim I’d done, it wasn’t all that rough and physical. Sure there was the odd knock but that probably had as much to do with my “alternative” racing line as it did with other people’s aggression. It’s amazing how hard it becomes to go straight when you remove the lane lines and swim in pea soup… After 1 hour 3 minutes of nice steady effort I made it out of the water and into the first transition. I took the “keep it steady” advice too literally here and took 10 minutes to get changed, put on suncream and visit the loo. 1005th fastest transition out of 1100. Still, it meant there were more people to pass on the bike.
The 112 miles consisted of three loops over a hilly course plus an out-and-back section. There was nothing desperate on the loops but I was glad of a 27 tooth sprocket on some of the hills, particularly towards the end: I could see some folk struggling and having to climb out of the saddle which might have cost them on the run. I kept hearing a combination of Ian, Mandy and Stu telling me to keep the pace manageable and “as soon as you feel it in your legs, back off” and it was spot on in terms of keeping consistent. 5 hours 57 for the bike leg meant I’d averaged just over 18mph- perfect. Getting used to Powerbars and Powerbar energy drink beforehand meant that I’d been able to make full use of the aid stations on the bike too, so I entered the second transition feeling pretty good and with enough energy on board. Mind you, I did learn that 20mph is not an appropriate speed to ride through aid stations- I almost removed both my and the marshal’s arm the only time I did.
My second transition was half the time of the first one and I was soon (ish) out onto the run. I’d decided to run with my hydration pack on, even though there were aid stations every 1.5 miles or so. It meant I could get sips of energy drink whenever I wanted and also carry a blister plaster and, on Elliot’s advice, my secret weapon. The hydropack provoked a few puzzled comments from spectators but I’m convinced it helped me drink enough and it would be really useful if you didn’t get on with the race organisers’ products. Even the Pros carry those dinky little bottle belts and a hydropack has far more je ne sais quoi than one of those… I knew I’d end up walking at some point on the marathon so I planned a run/walk strategy from the beginning, figuring I’d be fresher at the end. For the first couple of run loops I ran for 16 minutes and walked for 4 and then switched to an alternative strategy for the loops on the dual carriageway. Some unkind readers might suggest I switched because I couldn’t run up the hills at that point and, erm, they’d be right really- but I ran the flats and downhills and remained fresh enough to run the final 4 miles when I realised I was on course to crack 11 hours 30. The uphill walks also gave me a chance to deploy Elliot’s “racin’ fuel”: jelly babies. Maybe that was what made the difference over the final 4 miles? The run split times showed that the pacing worked and I kept up a consistent speed- my split positions improved right through the run to the extent that the final split was 198th fastest- compared to the first one which was 400 and something-th.
So, 11 hours 27 minutes and 1 second after the klaxon I crossed the finish line. Cracked it- I am an Ironman. Running down the finish chute was fantastic and the support and cheers from the crowd were amazing. That support continued right up to the final competitor who made it home 5 minutes inside the 17 hour cutoff time. Seeing the race winners come back and cheer home later finishers is something I’ve never seen at a race before but somehow summed up the atmosphere. Would I do it again? Absolutely. I can go 15 minutes faster just by sorting my transitions! Seriously, though, it was a great experience and I really felt I’d achieved something when I crossed the line. And whilst it is an achievement it is also achievable. Get your head round the distance and you’re well on the way to doing it yourself. See you on the start line next year?
Been there, done that, wearing the T-shirt. Steve after IMUK 2006