Post 46 - Ironman Wales swim

By now, we were penned in on the beach. In position. No chance to change anything now. We were ready to go. Everyone was highly strung, particularly those at the front, with aspirations of doing well. You could have bottled the tension and atmosphere and sold it for millions. At 6:58 we knew it was close. 6:59. Come on dammit. 6:59:30. The starter was right beside me, to the left, but was waiting for the signal via race radio. So there was no countdown. Then all of a sudden the klaxon blared. We were off…

I knew the first 30 seconds were critical. I had to get to that buoy first, and get around it, and get away to the left, and I had to do this before 2100 athletes swallowed me up, beat me up, and ruined my race. So I sprinted like I’ve never sprinted before, and fought through the waves and the sea, and hit that buoy, and took a left, and I knew I was clear. I carried on wading, it was faster than trying to swim through the waves. Finally it got too deep and I started swimming. I was pretty much alone. It was a great feeling. No dogfight. It was rough. It was very rough. The waves and swell were coming in from the right, so I was breathing to the left. It was like a rollercoaster. Waves were smashing me. Slamming me. There is nothing to do except battle on. Sighting was so difficult. Breathing was so difficult. It continued.

 

 

I am at the extreme bottom left of this picture...

A few swimmers started coming past on the right, which was reassuring. Safety in numbers… after all, there were killer jellyfish in the water... There was a photo doing the rounds on Twitter of a 4-foot jellyfish washed up on the beach on Friday morning. It looked horrifying. But I had to keep swimming and try not to think about jellyfish. It was difficult to see the buoy, and there was nothing but horizon beyond it, so it was difficult to make sure I was swimming in a straight line. Finally I hit the turn, and it was a sharp right. Now I was swimming out in the bay, parallel to the shore, and towards the lifeboat station. Sighting was a bit easier on the way across, as we had the lifeboat station to aim at and we could see it above the waves, which were now coming across from our left.

Heading out to sea - it was rougher than it looks...

I had settled into the swim by now. There was still no argy-bargy, so I had obviously got away well. But it was still tough. Then I got a kick in the face, literally. Visibility in the sea is quite low. Sometimes you can be swimming along, and you stretch out an arm in front of you to make a stroke, and instead of reaching into the water, you’ll reach onto someone’s feet. When people are swimming frontcrawl, they flutter their feet behind them, so if you swim into someone’s feet, not much will happen. However, I happened to swim into someone who had decided to swim breaststroke for a bit. Maybe he needed a break or was trying to catch his breath or whatever. Either way, I saw a breaststroke mule kick coming straight for my face and before I could do anything about it, bang, I got kicked. It hurt. I had a quick feel with my tongue to make sure all my teeth were still intact, and then there was nothing else for it but to carry on. I hoped I wasn’t bleeding. Killer jellyfish might like blood…

I kept going. There were boats and canoes close by, which was reassuring. Unlike last year, the field seemed quite well spread-out. I wasn’t complaining about this. I hit the next turn, and took another sharp right, back to the shore. Finally, the conditions relented a bit as the waves were now coming in from directly behind, and pushing us towards the shore. I made it to shore, and exited the water. We ran up the beach, over a timing mat and back into the sea. The tide was on its way in so we had a bit further to go on the second lap. I had done a 31-minute first lap. Not bad in the conditions.

The second lap passed much the same as the first. Unlike last year, I didn’t get cold. I think the sea was maybe a degree warmer than last year, and I had a new wetsuit this year too, which sealed really well. I felt like I was swimming reasonably well. I would even go as far to say I had properly settled into it, had got used to the conditions, and was almost enjoying it. Don’t get me wrong, it was still tough. I started to lap people during my second lap, which was indicative that everyone was finding it tough. The waves didn’t relent. I still hadn’t seen any jellyfish. By the time I was heading back towards the swim exit, I was happy that I was going to get through the swim. My thoughts started to turn to what I had to do to get up to T1, and whether or not my knee would allow me to run up the steep cliff path and through the town to T1. Finally I exited the water and my watch said 64 minutes. My official time was 65 minutes, by the time I had run over the timing mat on the beach.

65 minutes is my worst Ironman swim by a long way, and I was a bit disappointed with 65. Conditions made it difficult to draw comparisons with my previous swims, but there’s no doubt I was a bit disappointed. I couldn’t help but steal a backward glance to see everyone who was still out there. The sea looked busy to say the least. And then I was off up the cliff path, ripping the top half of my wetsuit off. The bottom half would wait until the T1 tent. And my knee felt OK. I grabbed my purple bag, and straight away I took out a bottle of water, and rinsed the sand off my feet. A small thing to do, but a significant thing. I would have no sand in my socks and shoes all day. It took all of 10 seconds to rinse the sand off. 10 seconds well spent, I’d say. Then I pulled on an old pair of shoes, and set off up the zig-zag path and through the town to T1.

En route, I had a few swigs of flat Coke from another bottle I had stashed in my purple bag. The caffeine would give me a bit of a kick, and the Coke would help to rinse out and kill off any bugs or germs in my mouth following the swim. Again, a small thing, but worth doing. I also had an energy gel (not an energy bar, as I learned last year these are easy to choke on when you’re out of breath). Finally I whipped on a pair of arm warmers, not because it was cold but because I didn’t want to get sunburned and also because it’s easier to pull on my tight aero bike jersey over a pair of arm warmers rather than over a pair of wet, salty arms.

The route up to T1 was packed with spectators. Such an atmosphere. I managed to glimpse my parents when I was swilling my mouth out with Coke. I think I gave them a nod – I had no free hands to wave, and I couldn’t give them a shout as I had a mouth full of Coke.

 

 

I got into T1 and had a fairly smooth transition. There’s a lot to remember. Wetsuit off. Towel down. Towel folded over feet. Heart rate monitor strap on. Race number on. Sit down. Socks on. Shoes on. Jersey on. Grab helmet and sunglasses. Put everything else into the bag. Hand the bag to a volunteer. Run to the bike. Put on the helmet and sunglasses on the way to the bike. I ran right underneath our B&B and got a big shout from the terrific Lee and Laura (the B&B staff), who were watching from one of the rooms.

There were loads of bikes still in T1. I started to think I’d had a better swim than I thought. I heard the announcer say that the first female pro was on her way into T1. Usually I catch the female pros on the bike. This time, I’d beaten them on the swim. So I felt I was reasonably well-placed. I learned after the race that the organisers were thinking of cancelling or shortening the swim due to the conditions. I also learned that they’d had to pull 70 people out of the water, who were struggling. I also learned that most people were exiting the water in a dazed state, staggering and stumbling their way off the beach. I’d done OK in the water, all things considered. Now to see how the bike felt…

Post 45 - Ironman Wales race morning

Ironman Wales in Tenby, Pembrokeshire, began with a 5am alarm. 5am is early compared with the 3:30am alarm required at Ironman UK in Bolton. Ironman UK starts at 6am and is a bit of a logistical nightmare. Ironman Wales starts at 7am and is a logistical breeze. I went straight down and got my porridge, honey, raisins, toast and peanut butter. Our B&B were absolutely brilliant – they couldn’t have been more helpful in terms of allowing me access to the kitchen’s fridge for storing my food, and allowing me access to the microwave and toaster. One less thing to worry about. Breakfast was a quick affair, polished off with a calcium tablet to help my muscles later in the day.

I still had huge doubts about my knee. I’d developed a sore right knee earlier in the week. It was the old problem of pain when trying to put weight on it when it was bent. Usually this problem was specific to my left knee, but my right knee had flared up this time, unbelievably just a few days before race day.

I’d been taking anti-inflammatories and icing it during the week. Yesterday at the Ironman Expo in Tenby I’d had both knees taped up. I figured it wouldn’t do any harm. Anyway, at this stage there was nothing more I could do. One of several things would happen: I’d get through the swim and then wouldn’t make it through T1 if my knee gave up. Or I’d get a few miles into the bike, or maybe halfway through, and my knee would give up. Or I’d make it through the bike and then wouldn’t be able to run. Or I’d have to abandon the run halfway through. Or I might finish. I might even still finish well enough to qualify for Kona. I had no idea. It’s a terrible way to go into a race, with no confidence in your body. You want to go in feeling good and positive. You don’t want to have any doubts.

Before the race I had been putting together best-case and worst-case finish times, assuming my knee held out and allowed me to finish. I thought 10:15 would qualify for Kona. I thought my worst-case times were 1:05 for the swim, 10 minute for T1, 5:50 for the bike, 5 minutes for T2, and 3:30 for the marathon. This would give me a 10:40 finish. But I knew that these worst-case times were fairly conservative. I thought if I was somehow able to do it and qualify for Kona, it would be brilliant. Wales is the first qualifying race for Kona in October 2015, so it would give me a whole year to prepare. I could book the flights early, have my pick of accommodation on Hawaii, get everything sorted, and focus my entire 2015 on Kona.

Then I told myself to shut up, that Ironman Wales was the toughest Ironman in the world, and that I had to get through it first, and to get through it really well, before I could even start to think about Kona.

After breakfast, it was straight down to T1 to put my drinks and Garmin computer on the bike, as well as give the tyres a last blast of air. T1 was literally a stone’s throw from the B&B. We had the most amazing view over the T1 tents and bike racks. All day on the Saturday we watched as the bike racks filled up. Despite the good weather, most people made use of the supplied yellow waterproof bike “pyjamas” overnight, so T1 was a sea of yellow. The pictures below show how T1 changes during race weekend...

 

 

 

 

I had no last-minute dramas at the bike, then went back to the B&B to get my wetsuit on. I decided I’d only put the bottom half on, and then make the 10-minute walk down to the beach, where I’d get the top half on. The wetsuit is tight and restrictive on land, but when in the water, it is magic. Like a massively buoyant torpedo.

There was an athlete’s parade down through the town and onto the beach, but I didn’t concern myself with that and made my own way down, support crew in tow. I didn’t want to get stuck behind 2000 nervous, slow-moving, wetsuit-clad triathletes. I wanted to be on the beach in good time. Just before the beach, I got the top half of my wetsuit on. These wetsuits are a nightmare to put on. They take ages, and you end up burning energy, sweating, and getting sore arms from pulling them on. Putting the bottom half on, and then putting the top half on some time later, helped to keep me fresh.

I walked down the zig-zag cliff path to the beach, and racked my purple bag. The purple bag contained a pair of shoes to get me through the 2km run from the beach to T1. This 2km run sounds ridiculous given that most races have their T1 right beside the swim exit, but this extended run to T1 is a unique feature of Wales. There must be thousands of spectators lining the roads from the beach to T1.

Anyway, I got on the beach and had a half-hearted splash in the water to get used to it. No point in getting excessively cold. I did an on-shore warm-up, windmilling my arms and stretching them behind me. There was an awesome sunrise. The sky was somewhere between pink and purple as the sun came up over the horizon, and the sea reflected this. It was awesome. Truly awesome. A favourable sign for a good day ahead, weather-wise at least…

 

 Swim warm-up in purple sea under an awesome sunrise

 

The music was blaring over the PA system, and the announcer was doing his thing, stirring up the excitement and calling the athletes into position on the beach. All manner of boats, canoes, jetskis and even the Tenby lifeboat were bobbing offshore. The cliff path was packed with spectators. The beach was busy. The sea was actually quite rough, with an onshore breeze whipping up a bit of a swell. We start in a pen on the beach, and when the gun goes, there is bedlam. Everyone sprints for the first buoy, about 20m offshore. Then you must round this buoy and make a 45-degree left turn, and then head out to the second turning buoy, about 500m away.

Penned in on the beach

 

Last year I started right in the middle, at the front, and I got absolutely beaten to a pulp in the first 20 minutes of the swim. You could hardly even call it a swim, it was more a fight for survival. I took on a lot of salt water last year and was retching and gasping for air. It was tough. I didn’t want a similar experience this year. Last year the first 45-degree turn was further offshore, and you had to swim to it. This year it was only 20m offshore, and you could wade to it. So my plan was to place myself at the very front of the pen of athletes on the beach, as far to the left as possible. Then I would sprint/wade/fight my way to the buoy, take a 90 degree left, continue to wade parallel to the shore for another 30-40m, and then start my swim, away off to the left of the main group and out of trouble. I also reasoned that being shore-side of the main group would give me some shelter from the waves.

By now, we were almost at 7am. Almost time for the race to start...

Post 44 - Kona is elusive

2014 is over, from a triathlon point of view anyway. I didn't qualify. I thought I had a sniff after 10 miles of the marathon but then I had serious stomach cramps, lots of toilet pit stops, and a sore and restrictive knee. So I couldn't run like I wanted to for the second half of the marathon. It was an ugly, painful final 14 miles. Sport at its worst. I think a 9 month intense season is too long. I hit a seriously good fitness peak in June after 5 months of tough training, and I think I went into Wales perhaps a bit over-trained, and certainly not as fit as I was pre-hospital. Some time off will follow now, and a bit of thought will go into 2015 plans. And a race report and photos will also follow soon. Apart from the disappointment, it was actually a really good weekend. The support in Tenby and Pembrokeshire is awesome. And the weather was great too. I just didn't get the damn elusive Kona slot...

Post 43 - The night before Ironman Wales

And so this is it. The night before the triathlon season ends. In 23 hours, one way or another, I'll be done with Ironman Wales 2014. I'm number 533, you can follow me on Ironman Live Athlete Tracking (look it up on google).

I am not in bad shape, fitness-wise. The weather forecast is good. Everything is set up and ready. But I have no idea how this knee is going to hold up. There is a 2km run from the swim exit on the beach, up the cliff path, through the town and to the main transition area. I might get out of the swim and not even be able to run up the cliff path. I might not be able to pedal the bike. It might really flare up halfway through the bike. I might do a decent bike and be unable to run the marathon. Or I might finish well and even qualify for Kona. I have no idea. I'm totally winging it.

I've rested and iced and nurofenned my knee as much as possible this week. I went and had it taped up today. And for good measure, I had both of them taped. I thought it would be my left knee, not my right knee that gave me problems. It's a terrible feeling to have zero confidence in my body. Everyone is saying "you can do it", "think of that finish line", "think positive", but realistically, with the best will in the world, if I physically cannot pedal or run, then no amount of strong willpower or positive thinking can help.

As shown in the photographs below, there are scary jellyfish to contend with. There are rumours of a protest. There are dodgy knees with rainbow tape. Also, there is a tough, tough course. I've no idea how it is going to go. I will do the best that my body allows me to do. And let's see.

Also below is the awesome view from the hotel room, overlooking the transition area.

 

 

 

Post 42 - Race week

At the start of this week, I was feeling quite positive about Wales. I'd had a good rest/recovery week, had a good massage, I'd had my painful ice bath. I'd been eating well. Foam rolling. Drinking the beetroot juice. All the training had been done.

My targets for Wales were the same as they would have been for Bolton: Qualify for Kona. I'd take that, however I get it. I'd rather not rely on the roll-down at the awards ceremony - I've experienced this last year and it's a terrible experience. I'd like to cross the finish line knowing I've done it, and not have any uncertainty. Ideally I'd like to challenge to win my age group, although this is a big ask. It would be great to get a podium in my age group and finish in the top 3. This would get me an Ironman trophy, which would be nice. Top 5 in my age group would get me a Kona slot. The weather looks good for the weekend, which is one less thing to worry about.

I've made an educated guess based on past results that I need something like 10 hours and 10 minutes to qualify. I think this is do-able, but far from easy. It could turn out that 9:55 might not be good enough to qualify, or it could turn out that a 10:25 would qualify. You just don't know.

I need to swim 60 minutes. I'll allow myself 10 minutes for the long first transition. I biked 5:53 last year and wasn't too pleased with that. I'd need to do something like 5:35 - 5:40 this year. I give myself 5 minutes for the second transition. I ran 3:34 last year and again wasn't happy with this at all. I need to do 3:20 or so this year. That gives 10:10 in total. Which I think would be there or thereabouts, and which I think I am capable of doing if everything goes well.

Buuuuuuuut, in keeping with my "tradition" of not having great fortune in my Ironman races, I have developed a sore knee in the last couple of days. I wouldn't have been too surprised if it had been my dodgy left knee, but it was my right knee this time. It just got sore, and it just hurts to put weight on it when it is bent. Stairs are hard work. It's not a great situation. I don't really know why it got sore. I did a couple of things that weren't "routine" for me in the last week, but they weren't risky. I rode my road bike on Tuesday night rather than my triathlon bike, as my triathlon bike was getting serviced. I slept a bit awkwardly one night. I stretched with a pillow rather than a cushion on Monday night. Small things. I did much "worse" in France, lifting and carrying stuff, sleeping on a hard camping mat, battering up long mountain roads...

But for whatever reason, my damn right knee is sore. I've been icing it and taking anti-inflammatories. I tried an easy 20 minute bike earlier this evening and I seemed to get away with it, but an easy 20 minute bike is hardly a tough 10-hour Ironman. It doesn't inspire great confidence, going into an Ironman with a knee that I have no idea will hold out. Saying that, at least it wasn't painful during the 20-minute bike earlier today.

There isn't much I can do at this stage other than to rest it, ice it, take some anti-inflammatories, and hope for the best. It might be absolutely fine, and give me no problems. Or I might not even make 3 miles on the bike. Or it might give up halfway round the bike. Or I might get through the bike and then just not be able to run. I have no idea.

Argh. Again.

 Pain bath



Offending knee

Post 41 - Recovery/tapering

Training done this week:

Monday 1^st September 2014: Rest
Tuesday 2^nd September 2014: Rest
Wed 3^rd September 2014: 40 minute turbo, 20 minute run
Thurs 4^th September 2014: Swim 1.5km
Friday 5^th September 2014: Rest
Saturday 6^th September 2014: 1 hour turbo, 20 minute run
Sunday 7^th September 2014: Swim 2.5km

Totals: Swim 4km, Bike 36 miles, Run 6 miles

This was intended to be my first week of tapering, but in reality it was more of a recovery week. The previous few weeks had been really tough, and for most of this week I felt very fatigued and listless, with low energy levels. The toning down of training has meant that I’ve been able to get to bed early every night this week (some nights as early as 9pm), which has been a benefit, although I haven’t been sleeping quite as well as I’d like. I’ve been doing a lot of foam rolling to try to iron out my muscles. With training less, eating well and being in bed for longer, my body has been recovering.

Towards the end of the week I felt some energy coming back. I had a couple of tough, painful sports massages. My back and legs were really tight and painful to poke and prod, so these massages were painful but necessary evils. I’ve learned lessons from the last time, so the leg massages were much shorter in duration, avoiding the prolonged hair follicle irritation and hospital stay that followed my last massage. Maybe if I continue into next season I’ll shave my legs. We’ll see. I have to say, my legs and back do feel a bit looser and fresher than they did at the start of the week.

I hope that next week will be a good week, in terms of feeling good, rested and fresh. I hope there are no unexpected problems. I’ll be heading down to Wales on Friday morning. I’m keeping a close eye on the weather forecast, although it is difficult to predict what the weather will do as we are still a week away. The weather for the next few days in Tenby looks good, but the forecasters seem to be hedging their bets for Sunday next week – there is a little cloud symbol, with some raindrops, and a sun peeking out. 4 seasons in one day. It wouldn’t surprise me, we had scorching sun, wind, cold and rain last year. I hope it’s nice this time around.

I’ve made a few more purchases this week. Loads of energy gels and bars, some waterproof clothing, new swimming goggles, and a new wetsuit. In France a few weeks ago my wetsuit seemed to be letting in a bit more water than usual. It’s a Blue Seventy Helix, a really good wetsuit, very fast and buoyant. But the better (and more expensive) the wetsuit, the more fragile, and the time has come to replace it. I don't want to be puling it on an hour before the race in Wales, and have it rip or something. I want to keep as warm as possible in the swim, and have as fast a swim as possible. So I need a new one... I got another Helix, but a 2012 model rather than a 2014 model. For this reason, I got a 40% discount, which was a bit of bargain, but still an expensive purchase. Hopefully it will seal really well, keep the cold water out, and help me to a decent swim time next week, leaving me in good shape to get on the bike.

 

I’ll also try to put on some lower gears on the bike (a compact with a 28 rather than a compact with a 26). Last year I went with a compact/26 and it was a tough push up some of the later hills. I’d rather spin easily up the hills and keep my heart rate as low as possible. It is a hilly bike course, and I know this year to make sure I don’t expend too much effort too soon. I need good legs on the final 30 miles of the bike, and I need to get off the bike with a bit left for the marathon. And it’s a tough marathon too.

 

There isn’t much flat anywhere on the bike course. Parts of it are really exposed and windy. Parts of it are narrow and twisty. Some of the road surfaces aren’t great. Some of the descents are dangerous, especially if it’s wet. Suffice to say, it’s a challenging bike course. The run course isn’t much better:

 

Basically, the run course involves running up a hill for about 5km, running back down the hill, and then touring almost every street in Tenby, before heading back to the hill and doing it all a second time. And then again for a third time. And finally for a fourth time. Then you can cross the finish line, where there may or may not be a Kona slot waiting…

I’m due to talk to the cardiologist tomorrow about the results of my 48-hour heart monitor, but I don’t expect anything other than, “You’re fine, carry on.” The bike will be serviced again. I’ll be foam rolling and stretching. I’ve got 8 bags of ice on order from Asda Home Delivery, so I’ll be having an ice bath. There is a pond out the back of the house, so I’ll be donning my new wetsuit and getting in the pond to splash around. I need to wear it in the water to break it in. Ideally I’d go to swim in it, but I don’t have time to take it to a lido or to the sea. So the pond will have to do. I’ll be sleeping as much as I can, and doing a few training sessions. In 7 days, triathlon will be all over for 2014.

During this week, I rediscovered a brilliant song. There used to be a sports programme on TV that I watched when I was maybe 7 or 8 years old. 22 years ago! This particular song featured on the opening and closing sequences. Despite the fact that I was just a youngster, I remember that it was quite an inspirational and evocative song, even though I could never make out the lyrics. It wasn’t particularly mainstream, and I haven’t heard it since. But in over 20 years, the tune has never left my head, and I’ve often wondered what on earth the song was.

It turns out that it’s a song by Enya called “Book of Days”. The Book of Days is a history/science book, first written in the late 19^th century. I put modern technology to good use and found out the song lyrics. They are no less inspirational and evocative than the tune was. It’s a great song. I don’t think, in my current situation, that anyone could possibly have written me a better song. Needless to say, it’s been on an endless repeating loop all weekend. The lyrics, and the song, are below:

Book of Days:

One day, one night, one moment
My dreams could be tomorrow
One step, one fall, one falter
East or west
Over earth or by ocean
One way to be my journey
This way could be my Book of Days

 

An Irish interlude:

Ó lá go lá, mo thuras, An bealach fada romham. Ó oíche go hoíche, mo thuras, na scéalta nach mbeidh a choích'.

From day to day, my journey, The long pilgrimage before me. From night to night, my journey, The stories that will never be again.

No day, no night, no moment
Can hold me back from trying
I'll fly (or “flag”, both work), I'll fall, I'll falter
I'll find my day may be Far and Away
Far and Away

Instrumental

One day, one night, one moment
With a dream to believe in (or “be leaving”, either/both work)
One step, one fall, one falter
And a new earth across a wide ocean
This way became my journey
This day ends together, Far and Away

This day ends together, Far and Away
Far and Away

Post 40 - Last tough training week

Training done this week was as follows:

Monday 25^th August 2014: 1:10 turbo (1 hour hard), 20 minute run
Tuesday 26^th August 2014: Rest
Wed 27^th August 2014: 20 minute turbo (5mins/2mins max), 30 minute fartlek run
Thurs 28^th August 2014: 1:25 turbo (10 x 4mins hard, 4mins easy), 20 minute run
Friday 29^th August 2014: Swim 3km (3 x 10 x 61m off 1 minute), 1:15 turbo (8 x 3mins L/R/both)
Saturday 30^th August 2014: 3:15 turbo (with 6 x 5min hard “hills”), 30 minute run
Sunday 31^st August 2014: Swim 3.8km (paddle drills), 100 minute run

Totals: Swim 6.8km, Bike 160 miles, Run 29 miles

This was my last tough week of training before Ironman Wales. My last week of Ironman training this year. Specific Ironman training started this year on 7^th January, so that has been 8 months of full-time, tough training, fitted in around a full-time, tough job. All that is left now is a 2-week taper. I’ll still train, but nothing too long and nothing too intense.

I feel very fatigued at the minute, because I haven’t really stopped since Ironman UK on 20^th July. I had a couple of days off after Ironman UK, and a couple of days off to rest up before going to the Alps, but apart from that it has been full-on. Normally I would never train hard for more than 2 weeks without then having an easier week. This time, for various reasons, it has been pretty much nearly 6 tough weeks in a row. So I’m in need of a rest.

I think I have maybe overtrained in the last few weeks. Overtraining isn’t a good thing. Generally, increased training results in increased fitness, but there comes a point where further increases in training do not bring the same proportional increases in fitness. This is the point where real fatigue sets in, where recovery takes longer, and where there is a much greater risk of injury. In France, particularly in the final few days, my back was getting sore on the bike. During my final long turbo session, where I incorporated 6 repetitions of 5 minutes at super-high resistance to mimic the hills of Ironman Wales, I wasn’t as powerful as I would normally be. I don’t put this down to a lack of fitness, I put it down to fatigue, heavy legs and overtraining.

I have got 2 weeks now before Ironman Wales to rest and recover, have a couple of massages, have an ice bath or two, do lots of stretching, lots of sleeping, lots of fuelling up and hydrating, along with a few nice easy training sessions. Hopefully by the time Wales comes around on the 14^th September, I will be fresh and ready to go. Although I’m fatigued, by and large I am healthy and injury-free, apart from a sorer-than-usual back. This will be put right by some ice, heat, massage and rest (I hope!)

Some stuff I’ll be drinking every day: beetroot juice is meant to be good for endurance athletes. Let’s see. It doesn’t taste, and comes with a warning that it is normal to have pink urine after drinking…

 

Some stuff I have been and will be eating every day… My meals taste awesome...

 

 

Some stuff I won't be eating every day. This is an actual product, on sale in an actual supermarket near me...

It’s difficult to gauge where my fitness levels are at the minute. I think I’m not quite where I was before I ended up in hospital, but I would like to think I am not far away. The upcoming two easy weeks will do me a lot of good, and going into the race fresh will be a big benefit. I haven’t really been fresh for any of the training sessions I’ve done in the past few weeks. Knowing the Wales course will also be a big advantage, and having competed there last year, I know what to expect and am better placed to plan and execute a better race.

Also this week, I have been wearing a 48-hour heart monitor. This is further to all the tests and diagnostics I underwent before I went to France. They all came back totally normal, and this 48-hour heart monitor is a final test, to be sure to be sure that there are no problems with my heart. It was a bit of an inconvenience to wear, and it made sleeping a bit awkward, with all the wires hanging off me, and the little recorder box having to remain very close by. It also made me look like a bit of a freakish science experiment, resembling some sort of cyborg half-human, half robot.

 

I was given a spare set of electrodes and instructions on how to change them over, so that I could disconnect myself to take a shower, and not end up smelling like a mouldy rag. Ideally, I wanted to have a few cases of ectopic beats when wearing it. I also wanted to train really hard when wearing it, and get my heart rate as high as possible. This would allow the cardiologists to analyse my heart when under stress, and when the ectopic beats were happening. The nurse who wired me up instructed me to do everything possible to try to bring on these ectopic beats: drink coffee, drink Red Bull, get stressed, sleep badly, do whatever training I thought would bring it on.

However, I don’t drink coffee or Red Bull, I have recovered from the leg infections, I didn’t intend to deprive myself of sleep, and I’m a bit less on edge compared with the run-up and aftermath of Ironman UK. The holiday did me good. So my cases of ectopic beats haven’t been as often or obvious in the last couple of weeks. I did train hard, at high heart rate when wearing the monitor. I’m currently waiting for the results to come back, but I fully expect them to be fine, and so does my cardiologist. So there should be no problems.

It’s a strange feeling to think the season is coming to an end. All the work is done. All the tough sessions are done. It’s a bit anti-climactic to be honest. I had seen myself getting in good shape for Ironman UK, and hopefully qualifying for Kona with a good performance there. It was very deflating to have that knocked back. My entire 2014 and all the work I did had been geared to that race. However I am grateful that I have the opportunity to put a Plan B into action, even if preparation for Wales hasn’t been ideal. In an ideal world, I’d have had a come-down after Ironman UK, and some time off to rest and recover, and then another build-up to Ironman Wales. However, the world isn’t ideal, and time and work constraints have meant that I didn’t have much of a come-down after hospital/Ironman UK, and I have just blasted straight through to Ironman Wales.

But, this is the best I can make of the situation and I hope that I will have a good day in Wales…