Ironman UK 2007
You know that iritating little itch? The one you get on the side of your nose when you're carrying two armfuls of something heavy. The one that no amount of nose wriggling will make go away until finally your resistance crumbles, you put aside whatever it was you were doing and scratch it. That itch? That's Ironman racing. Or at least it was for me after Ironman UK 2006- I'd enjoyed the race, posted a respectable newbie's time and hoped I'd exorcised those demons. Except I hadn't and I wanted to go faster. I finally caved in in December of 2006 and paid up for IMUK 2007. The fact that there were still plenty of spaces available some two months after entries had opened should have told me something. It should have told me that there are far better places in the world to race Ironman if you're after a quick time, but then I'm a scientist and find the idea of comparing like with like deeply apealing, so Sherborne it was for 2007. And on race day, after a year of what I felt was good consistent training, after having bought, read and re-read "Going Long" (the long distance training bible), after having spent hours searching for ideas, tips and advice online I went 15 minutes faster. 15 minutes. After more than 11 hours of race effort and a year's preparation I'd improved by the amount of time it takes to make and enjoy a cup of tea. From scratch. Including warming the pot...
The week leading up to the race wasn't the most promising in terms of weather and I held off looking at the long range forecasts until Thursday before race day cause they were changing so regularly. When I did there appeared to be a glimmer of hope that race day might be dry, if not warm, and that's exactly how it turned out. Friday was travel and registration day, Saturday was race briefing, fuelling and an early night and throughout both days the soundtrack was rain and wind. I'm not normally too bad when it comes to race day nerves, but sitting in the briefing and listening to the rain hammer on the marquee whilst realising that I genuinely didn't have enough kit with me to get through the bike if the weather stayed that way, I was properly scared. Whether familiarity had bred contempt I don't know, but I've never been more thankful for cold, dry and windy come race morning. And it was certainly cold.
The race is scheduled to start at 6am but was delayed by 15 minutes to allow everyone to make it to the start- the main car park was so wet it had to be closed and the alternative one half a mile away used instead and that caused traffic jams in Sherborne's narrow streets. Even once we'd got into the water and swum out to the start there was a wait of 15 minutes or so and I've since read several competitors' reports suggesting that the delay in the water led to them getting cold-induced cramps in the swim. Fortunately I'd been training at Roker (cause that's what well 'ard Sun City Triathletes do, eh?) and didn't find it too bad, although I sharp realised that whizzy wetsuits that let you swim faster do so at the expense of keeping you warm while bobbing around! Eventually we were off and I tried to consciously take things easy. I inadvertantly picked a good spot to start too, since other people I talked to reported real argie-bargie where the field compressed together. Two cool laps later and one early warning "twinge" from my calf (note- don't try that kicking your legs hard to get blood into them when they're on the point of freezing as they appear to want to cramp instead...) I was out of the water in 1 hour 36seconds. Faster than 2006 but it felt easier while doing it- excellent! Off into T1 and I took the time to change into cycling kit like last year, I just made sure I did it faster. You could argue that wouldn't have been hard given how slow I was in 2006, but I did have to put on an extra layer this time, so erm, yeah.
Out onto the bike and the day really started to reveal itself as the promised dry conditions arrived, but blown in by a stiff wind. The bike course at Sherborne consists of three north to south loops and the wind was theoretically a help on the southbound section. We undoubtedly got some benefit, but the course is quite sheltered and follows a valley floor between large hedges for a good part of the southward journey: visions of flying along at 30+ mph were shattered early on. At the end of the southbound leg you arrive at Dorchester and hop onto a cycle path (yes really) for half a mile before the northbound part of the loop begins. This contains a seemingly endless series of hills climbing up to "The Giant" at the highest point on the course. To really test everyone's mettle, the wind was now a moderate to strong headwind and the course was much more exposed. Everyone has difficult patches during long races and for me the worst point in the day came just after the summit of the Giant on lap two. I was starting to feel tired and I knew I had to do the climb again, but then, that's why you're there, isn't it? To scratch that itch, to test yourself again, to face those demons. And I did: 112 miles but 15 minutes slower than the previous year. I think it was that experience on the bike that really made me realise what it takes to be properly fast at Ironman. Not just newbie doing OK fast but genuinely quick. The next question I have to answer is how quick do I want to be (or, more accurately, how hard am I prepared to work at getting there)? But that's for later. I'd made it to T2 in one piece and feeling good.
I'm not sure how but I managed to be slower through T2 than last year (must have been the extra layer to take off...) but headed out onto the run feeling surprisingly good. I was concentrating on holding form better and had an improved run-walk plan that saw me running for 10 minutes then walking for 1 compared to the previous year's 16 on 4 off. It's worked for me for two years and let me maintain even pacing through the run, so I'm a big fan of the run/walk approach. It's not without drawbacks, though, and walking through cheering crowds encouraging you to run takes a bit of discipline! Two scenic laps round the grounds of Sherborne castle and it was time to head out onto the Dual Carriageway... I felt a bit of a git when I replied to a cheery "well, that's the hard bit done" from a fellow competitor with "oh no, it's not even begun yet," but didn't feel nearly as bad when he found me at the finish and thanked me for the warning! The dual carriageway section of the IMUK run is a legendary if you've done the race: more than half your run mileage is done in two out and back loops along an undulating stretch of the A30, coned off for the occasion. I'm not sure if it's the hills, the straightness, the knowledge that you have to do it twice, or what, but I don't think I've ever heard anyone say "oh yes, I really enjoyed that bit." Every time you come over a rise, there appears to be another hill on the horizon! I can't complain about the time though- I was delighted to knock 20 minutes off last year's time and get under 4 hours for a marathon.
Eventually it was done and I joined the multiple Ironman club. Just. I even remembered to celebrate properly this time after my odd gurning and waving randomly first time round. The atmosphere was as amazing as ever and really helped remind me just why we chose to do what we do. I managed to stay awake until the final finisher came in, too, and that added a whole other aspect to the Ironman experience. I knew I'd had a hard time in the wind and on the hills, but I couldn't begin to imagine what it must have been like to be out there, on the dual carriageway in the cold, wind and dark, still fighting after 16 hours. It was properly inspiring and the atmosphere among those who'd stayed on was really special: something I'd really recommend experiencing if you get the chance. So will I do it again? Good question. Last year the answer was easy and I underestimated the implications of my reply. I'm thinking much harder this time but in my heart of hearts, I know there's still the beginnings, the first tiny twinges, of another itch...
See you on the road.