Post 90 - Ironman UK 2015

Ironman UK 2015 was a pile of shhhhhh. Again. Just like Ironman UK 2013, and Ironman UK 2014, and Ironman Wales 2013, and Ironman Wales 2014. This Ironman business is proving to be really tough. So much has gone in, and so little has been got back.

I felt good going into race weekend. I had 7 people coming to support, including my parents who had come over from Northern Ireland. It was the best I’ve been going into an Ironman, and this was Ironman number 6. So I was hopeful of a good showing, and hopeful that I’d finally qualify for the worlds. I’d been watching the weather forecast closely, and it looked like a mixed bag, with some showers. Not ideal, but I can cope with some showers. The day before the race was really good weather. I’m well-practiced in getting set up now. Prepare the bike, tape the energy gels onto the top tube, sort the bottles out. Make separate piles on the bed: one for pre-race stuff, one for swim stuff, one for bike stuff, one for run stuff, and one for post-race stuff. Then, pack the stuff into the appropriate race bags, and go and rack everything in the two transition areas.

Ironman logistics. Triathlon is a lot more than three disciplines...

When I was racking my bike, I noticed that there was hardly any space between the front brake caliper and front tyre. I’d had the bike fully serviced about a week before the race, and had new tyres put on. The new tyres were obviously slightly bigger than the old tyres, and the front tyre was very close to the brake caliper. I ended up taking the bike to the on-site mechanics in the first transition area, and I had a new caliper put on. Not a major problem. It was still sunny and warm, but the wind was getting up. So much so that the transition crew were going around and removing covers from the racked bikes. The covers were acting like sails, catching the wind, and bikes were falling off the racks. I had a quick look at the lake. The water level seemed lower than previous years, and I’m sure it stank more than in previous years.

Appealing?

He fancies the bike

I went to the second transition area and dropped off my run stuff. I kept checking the weather. It now seemed set that it was going to rain all morning, with sun in the afternoon. Not what I wanted, but there was nothing I could do about it. Then all that was left was to have dinner and go to bed early. The alarm was set for 3:20am. 3:20am! I wanted to make sure I was at the start in plenty of time to check my bike, pump up the tyres, and have plenty of time to spare to get into my wetsuit. With the land-based rolling start, I wanted to make sure I was very near to the front of the line, I didn’t want to have to deal with any agro or argy-bargy in the starting queue, I just wanted a clean getaway.

I slept OK, woke up at 3am needing the toilet, and I decided I wouldn’t bother going back to bed. I looked out the window. It was pouring. Absolutely lashing. It looked utterly miserable. Argh. I told myself it would get better, and I went about getting ready. By about 4:30am I was at the transition area, with the race due to start at 6am. It was still raining, but it had eased. “It’s getting better already”, I told myself. I sorted out my bike. I didn’t put the full 110psi into the tyres, as the roads were absolutely soaking wet. Then it was time to get into my wetsuit.

Normally I end up sweaty and hot after putting the wetsuit on. But this time, I was freezing. I couldn’t get warm. It wasn’t long after 5am, there was almost an hour to go, I had done everything, I was suited up, and now I was freezing. So I put on all my clothes over my wetsuit, I put on a pair of trainers, and I went for a run to try to get warm, windmilling my arms frantically to try to get some circulation going in my hands. I didn’t get fully warm before I started. But the rain had at least died down. I got to the front of the start queue and at 6am we got going. The water was colder than in previous years. It was only 18 degrees, but in previous years it had been as high as 22 degrees. It wasn’t easy to jump straight in, it was a bit of a shock to the system.

I had been hoping for a first lap in around 28 minutes. There was so much gloop in the lake, billions and trillions of little tiny particles of stuff. You couldn’t focus on anything under the water, with such little visibility. It was like flying through space, or driving through a snowstorm. Very surreal. The weather was coming in from the south, so on the homebound section of the first lap (heading south), I was able to see if the clouds were breaking when I lifted my head to sight. If anything, it was looking worse. I got through the first lap in 29-something. Not what I wanted, but not too bad either.

The second lap was tough. It started to rain again, hard. I was wearing two thick swimming hats, but my head got really cold and this resulted in a splitting headache, like if you eat too much ice cream too quickly. Not long after starting the second lap, I took a breath and all I could see was some guy in a blue Ironman swimming hat with his head periscoping way up above the water, he looked like a drowning rat, a face of complete and utter horror and bewilderment. He was the first of the lapped swimmers. He hadn’t even done half a lap. The final starters would only have been getting in the water 15-20 minutes after I had started, with the new rolling start format.

And from then on I was swimming into and over and around slower lapped swimmers. Many were doing breaststroke, kicking out behind them like mules. I really didn’t want a mule-kick to the face. I didn’t enjoy the second lap at all, I was cold and not looking forward to biking in such rain. I didn’t break 60 minutes for the swim, and when I got out of the water, it was monsoon conditions. Horrible. Dangerous riding conditions. I headed for the transition tent, and cutting through the tunnel vision and concentration on getting my wetsuit off and getting my earplugs out as I was running up to the tent and struggling to get my wetsuit off, I heard “JOHN, JOHN, JOHN!” I looked round. A guy I know who was there to support. A big smile on his face. “What a terrible day”, was the best I could offer him. “Naaaah mate, it’s LOVELY!” He was almost dancing. I wanted some of his happy pills…

I didn’t want to ride in this wind and rain and cold. But I pulled on a pair of gloves and a lightweight “waterproof” sleeveless gilet, and I got on the bike. I was sh!tting myself. The roads were like rivers. The rain was torrential. It was windy and gusting. I have deep-rim wheels that get blown around like crazy in windy conditions. I was soaked through. I can’t imagine how it must have been for the spectators. My power meter flashed a warning on my bike computer: “Low battery.” How could it be low?! I replaced the battery last week! Maybe it was just miserable and cold and drowned, like me.

I tiptoed along on my bike. I had to ride cautiously. Guys were flying past me, taking all kinds of risks. A few ambulances went past in the first hour. I guess there were a few crashes and “offs”. It was awful. I kept yelling at myself: “This will get better!” Unfortunately, it didn’t get better. I was absolutely soaked through, and the wind and rain were chilling me to the bone. Everything was frozen. 

I knew I was in big trouble when I needed to refill my front bottle, and I tried to grab a bottle from the cage behind my saddle, and my hands were so cold that I couldn’t grip it. I nearly dropped it. Somehow I managed to turn the full bottle upside-down and stick the nozzle in the refilling port of the empty bottle. And I couldn’t squeeze the upside down bottle to empty it into the front bottle. It was pathetic. I nearly lost grip on it completely, and ended up riding along, holding it down with my chin, both hands on the handlebars, and thinking “what the hell do I do now?” I tried one more time to squeeze the contents from the full bottle into the empty bottle, and dropped the full bottle. One bottle of drink gone. It was the same with trying to eat gels and bars – I didn’t have the strength and dexterity in my hands to unwrap and eat them.

I knew I had to do something, so I decided that for better or worse, I was going to take my gloves off. They weren’t waterproof and they were soaked through. Combined with the wind, and with bad circulation in my hands anyway, I was really struggling. I had to use my teeth to get them off. My hands would either improve, or they’d get worse, and I’d be forced to abandon the race. Maybe that wouldn’t have been a bad thing. I knew by now I had no chance of qualifying for Kona. People were passing me all over the place. So I took the gloves off, and spent the next 40 minutes riding with alternate hands shoved under my armpits, to try to warm them up. I eventually managed to get a degree of functionality back. But my core, legs and feet never got warm.

Not having fun

It was a miserable, miserable bike ride. The weather did improve by the second half of the bike, but I had no energy left. Normally I’d be pushing 210-230 watts, but I was struggling for 160 watts. Awful. Getting up out of the aero position was a little better and I was able to push almost 200 watts. But the whole thing was terrible. After almost 6 hours, my worst Ironman bike ever, it ended. I wanted to abandon the race at the second transition, I’m just not that interested in struggling around for nothing. I want to be racing to qualify for Hawaii. But I continued. I thought I’d at least run into Bolton town centre and at least run 10 miles, to make it like an extended training day.

I could hardly change my shoes in the transition tent, my legs were cramping so badly and they were so stiff. I was so happy to take off my top and change into a fresh one. And my soaking wet socks and bike shoes too. I struggled and fought through the second transition, and started to run. My feet were like two blocks of ice. Straight away it was obvious I had nothing in my legs. My pace was terrible. And that was it. It was an awful run. I felt awful. It must have been awful for my supporters to witness.

At least the rain had stopped, and there was a good atmosphere on the course, with spectators everywhere. I just struggled up and down and up and down that long drag out of the town centre to the turning point. I thought I may as well finish, more so for the people who had taken the time and effort to come to the race and support me. I could see my marathon time was slipping and was going to be worse than 4 hours. Really not good. My race time was going to be worse than 11 hours. I don’t know what my exact finishing time or position was, and I don’t care. Not my day. Disappointing. Well done to everyone who finished, and who qualified. That was one tough, tough day.

Still not having fun

Why was I so bad? It was the same day for everyone, so I can’t make excuses, and I don’t want to make excuses. Despite me saying that, this will probably look like a big list of excuses. You could call them “lessons”. I was only 66kg going into that race. Very lean and light. I’m naturally quite skinny, and I was on the skinny side of skinny after my 7-month build-up. I don’t have a body type to deal well with such cold and wet and wind. A lot of top-end Ironman athletes would, I guess, be 10-15kg heavier than me, and so they’d find it easier in colder conditions. I’d done the vast majority of training in my room, in a very controlled climate, with temperatures at a minimum of 22 degrees C, and for the past couple of months, temperatures hovering around 30 degrees. I was well-trained to go well in hot conditions, and I have a good build to go well in hot conditions. Because I’m light, and because of the wind, I was getting blown all over the place in the race. My deep-rim front wheel didn’t do me any favours. I got changed into my wetsuit far too early on race morning, and was stood for too long in the rain, getting cold. I wore my tri top under my wetsuit, and it was soaking wet getting out of the swim. I then put a short-sleeved “waterproof” gilet over the top of it. So it never had a chance to dry out when the weather improved. Maybe I’d have been better without the waterproof at all, or maybe I should have stopped and ditched it when the weather improved, but I was worried about another rain shower. I didn’t wear waterproof gloves so my hands had no chance, especially since I have poor circulation in my hands. I didn’t have windproof bike shoe toe covers, which would have stopped my feet from freezing. I wasn’t quite able to eat and drink what I wanted, when I wanted because my hands were so cold. If conditions had been different, I could have had a very good race. Conditions weren’t for me. Probably I wasn’t too well-prepared for such conditions. That’s it. The question is, what now? Really, what now?