Post 91 - What next?

On the first day back at work after Ironman UK, before I had even made it to the office, I had received word that I’d likely have to go to Italy. Argh. My legs were a mess, I couldn’t walk properly, I was knackered, I had blisters, my kit hadn’t been washed, my bike was filthy, and all I wanted was a straightforward week, with time to sort myself and my gear out, eat well, hydrate well and recover. And also take some time to think and to make a plan for the “what now?” after Ironman UK.

To cut a long story short, I got to work, completed a travel request, got some documents together, went home, packed to go to Italy, went to the airport, and went to Italy. It was pushing 40 degrees C in Italy, and I spent the whole week on my feet, outside, in a fabricating yard. It was so tough. This continued right through until the Saturday night. I didn’t have control over my diet, and was all-too-often faced with a choice of eating rubbish, or not eating at all. It wasn’t a good week. I was over 70kg for the first time this year when I got back from Italy.

Out the back of the hotel was what looked like a go-kart track. It turned out that it was a junior cycling club track, and probably the highlight of my week was standing on the balcony of my hotel room, watching junior cyclists on little mini road bikes riding round and round. They were loving it. And I was loving watching them. I need to get the enjoyment back into my cycling, all the indoor training I do gets very tedious.

Really wanted to go for a rip around the track

I decided that I wanted another go at Ironman this year. I’ll give Ironman Wales in Tenby a crack in September. I have to do it. I weighed up going to Ironman Holland at the start of August, but decided it was too soon. I also thought about Ironman Vichy in France at the end of August, but again it is a bit too soon and it’s a big unknown, plus it’s a long way away. I know Ironman Wales inside out.

However, both Ironman Holland and Ironman Vichy are very recent additions to the Ironman calendar. This means they only have around 700 entrants (compared to 2000-2500 at a “normal” Ironman). Most Kona-qualification-chasers will have planned their season a year in advance (long before we knew that Holland and Vichy would be on the Ironman calendar), and entered their races a year in advance before they sold out. So this means that there could be fewer top-end athletes at Holland and Vichy. With such low numbers and with potentially fewer top-enders present, it’s likely that the chances of qualification will be much higher at both of these events. I’ll look at the results with interest, and probably despair.

For Wales though, it’s local (relatively), it’s known, and it is a tremendous event and occasion. It really is. I’ve got 7 months of focused training and fitness behind me, and I’ll likely have stability for a few more months at work. OK, the weather in Wales in September might not be great, but it cannot possibly be as bad as it was in Bolton, and I can learn a lot of lessons with regard to wet weather gear and keeping warm. Wales features a tough sea swim, massive jellyfish to contend with, an obscenely hilly bike and difficult course and a run course that isn’t much better. But Ironman Wales is an amazing event. The support is incredible. It’s a nice part of the world. Tenby is a brilliant host town. Logistically it’s an easier event than Bolton. To qualify for Kona at Tenby would be something amazing, as Tenby is a place I could easily return to time and time again for a holiday.

If I can only get to the finish line at Ironman Wales, and be able to say that the race was as good as it could have been, then whether I qualify or not, I’ll have to be happy with that. Saying that, I would still hope to qualify. In the past two years in the M30-34 age group, 10:30 has been good enough. I have done a 61 minute swim at Wales, a 5:43 bike and a 3:34 run. That makes 10:18. The long first transition can take 7-10 minutes, and the second transition can take 2-3 minutes. I’d like to believe I am fitter (and certainly more experienced) this year, so I’d like to think I can better those times. But what I think doesn’t matter in the slightest, it’s what I actually do that counts. I keep saying that I can do it. I’m sick of saying it. I want to deliver.

Then after Wales, things are going to change. Work is really unstable and the project I am working on will transfer to Korea. It looks like there will be no more work in London beyond September, and I am set on leaving London anyway. I’m not sure where I’ll be by the end of the year. If I qualify for the worlds at Ironman Wales, I’ll go to Hawaii in October 2016. So I’ll have lots of time to plan and prepare, and I’ll have my pick of flights and accommodation, hopefully at decent prices. Whatever happens, I’ll have to make something happen from summer 2016 to October 2016 so that I am able to train for the worlds. If I don’t qualify at Wales, I’ll have to have a serious think as to whether or not it is feasible to carry on and try again in 2016. It’s a big, big commitment in every way – physically, mentally and financially. It’s tough on the body. I’m aware that it’ll be very, very difficult to keep doing this indefinitely, at the expense of pretty much everything else in life. It’s a difficult call – I’ve never given up on anything, but there are other things I could do apart from Ironman that would still leave me time to have a bit more balance in my life. Training for a sub-32 10K wouldn’t take hours and hours and hours per week, for example. But for now, Wales is set up and guaranteed, everything I need is in place, so I’ll go there and lay it all on the line, with the mind-set that I don’t know if or when there will be another chance.

So, 6 more weeks. I’m going to the Alps for a week and a half soon, and that’ll be good training. I did nothing for the entire week after Bolton, and only this week I’ve started to get back into it, so hopefully the de-conditioning and rustiness will be gone by the time I get to the Alps, and I can train well in the mountains – it’ll be good training for Wales, and will be a lot more enjoyable than battering away on the turbo trainer in my room. I’ll also do a lot of work on explosive strength – I’ve already started standing at the bottom of the stairs and “hopping” up to the next stair with only one leg. This is tougher than it sounds, especially after 20 or 30 repeats. But it’ll be good strength training which will benefit me in Wales. I’ll look at getting some good wet weather gear. I’ll try to cover every single eventuality.

And hopefully, by 5:30pm on Sunday 13th September 2015, I will finally be a Kona qualifier. If not, there’ll be some serious thinking and soul-searching to be done…

Training done since Ironman UK:

Sun 19 July: Ironman UK

Mon 20 July: Rest
Tue 21 July: Rest
Wed 22 July: Rest
Thu 23 July: Rest
Fri 24 July: Rest
Sat 25 July: Rest
Sun 26 July: Rest
Mon 27 July: 1:10 turbo
Tue 28 July: Rest
Wed 29 July: 1:05 turbo, 25 minute run
Thu 30 July: Swim 1.5km
Fri 31 July: Rest

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?

Post 89 - Ironman UK strategising

I went to work on Monday, and decided I was better off taking the rest of this week off. I’d originally planned to take Thursday and Friday of this week off (and Monday after the race), but I think it’s better to have most of this week off. It’s all about maximising my chances of success and minimising my chances of things going wrong. I don’t know who might be ill on the train or what germs might be floating around, and there’s still quite a bit of it in the office. I can’t risk anything in the lead-up to what is probably the biggest day of my life.

I’m still getting up at the normal time, there’s no point lying in bed until 10 or 11am all week, and then not being tire in the evenings and unable to get to sleep at 9pm in Bolton. Then the alarm will go off at 3am before the race, and I’ll only have had 2 hours of bad sleep on which to race an Ironman. I got up at 6:20am today (very early for a non-work day), I’ll go to bed at 9:30pm. I’ll try to get up a bit earlier each morning this week, and go to bed a bit earlier each evening, so that I am adjusted to very early nights and early rises before I get to Bolton. So, I’ve got a bit of free time this week as I’m not in work…

I’ve spent a bit (OK, a lot) of time thinking about what it might take to qualify for the Kona Hawaii Ironman world championships at Ironman UK. I’ve got experience of the event (this will be my 4^th trip to Bolton, and I’ve also done Ironman Wales twice). It’s impossible to predict exactly, but I reckon there will be 5 qualifying slots in my age group. To guarantee qualification, I’d like to finish in the top 4. Slots may roll down, but there’s no guarantee of this. 

I’d like to know immediately after the race if I’ve done it or not, I don’t want a horrible night and morning going to the awards ceremony to face the agony of a roll-down. Been there, done that, missed out, don’t want to do it again… I finished 5^th at Ironman Wales 2013, thought there would be 5 slots, there were only 4, nothing rolled down… 

To be really happy with the Ironman UK this year, I’d like to be in the top 3 in my age group, which would mean a podium finish and a prize. Finishing in such a position would put me around the top 20 overall. Assuming the weather is reasonable, and assuming I actually get to the start line in good shape (healthy, no injuries), and based on finishing times from previous years, I think (although this could be completely wrong) that an overall finishing time of around 9:40 will guarantee a Kona slot for me. Under 9:50 would have a chance, under 10 hours would have a smaller chance, and anything over 10 hours would only be left with a tiny, tiny chance. 

 

It's Tuesday today. Race day (Sunday) doesn't look great at the minute.

But it was the same last year - rain forecast, and it turned out nice... 

Ironman UK always had a mass in-water start. So it was always a proper “race” where everyone started at the same time. This year, it’s a rolling land-based start. We will line up on land, with faster swimmers at the front of the line. I imagine there might be a bit of argy-bargy when lining up, and I’ll need to be ready in good time to get to the front of the line. Then at 6am, the marshals will release a few athletes every second in a continuous stream, until everyone is in the water. They plan to have everyone swimming within 10-15 minutes, although I have my doubts about this. The pros will get to start in the water, before the masses. I have no doubt that the faster swimmers will be swimming over the top of the slower swimmers on the second lap of the swim, which won’t be fun for anyone. 

I would question the rolling start – the Bolton swim is fine for a mass in-water start: there is space for a big, wide start, there is lots of space, with a long, long swim of maybe 800m to the first turn buoy, by which time the field has already strung out. I don’t really see any benefit of a rolling land-based start. Plus, we won’t get a chance to warm up in the water either, and a lot of people (myself included) like to take their time to get into the water and get used to it. It’ll be a bit of a shock this year – boom, straight into it. It is what it is though.

I expect to swim under an hour. In 2011 at Bolton I swam 57 minutes. In 2013 I did 55 minutes, but I heard the swim was a little short. In 2014 I swam 61 minutes with a body gone haywire after being in hospital for the leg infections. Ideally I’d like to get through the swim and first transition in under an hour, but I’d settle for a 57 minute swim.

And then the bike. You can’t make your day on the bike, but you can very easily break it by going too hard. You only find out halfway through the marathon, when you start losing 10 seconds per mile, then 20, then 40, then a minute, then two minutes. But how hard is too hard on the bike? What feels fine/OK/not bad might still be too hard… With experience and learning, I think I’m better placed to answer that question now. In previous Ironman bikes, I’ve averaged just over 150bpm heart rate, with multiple spikes into the red zone of over 170bpm. With hindsight, this is too high. Actually, with hindsight, this is absolutely ludicrous. 

No wonder my Ironman runs have been poor. And no wonder my body didn’t process food and drink properly. It simply can’t, at such heart rates, when the muscles’ demands for oxygen is such that blood is diverted from the digestive system. This means you can continue to fuel your muscles, but you can’t digest anything. That’s fine for an hour, or two or three or maybe even four, but not for a full Ironman…

In 2013 I biked 5:30, following a 4:14 100-mile time trial a couple of months previously. In 2014, I did the same 100-mile time trial in identical conditions in 3:59. So I expected to bike something like 5:15 or 5:20 at the Ironman last year. In the end, I biked 5:39 shortly after being in hospital with leg infections. I didn’t get to do the 100-mile time trial this year, but I would like to think that I’m no less fit than I was last year. So this means that a bike of 5:15-5:20 would be on the cards again (assuming conditions are reasonable), with an average heart rate of 150+. 

However, I want my average heart rate on the bike this year to be 145 or lower, but I don’t know how much time this will cost me on the bike. I’m hoping for around 5:30. But more than the time, I’m hoping to be able to have the discipline to maintain a sensible heart rate, to watch people overtake me on the bike (especially in the early stages), and be confident enough to say “see you later, on the run…” I’m not going to spike anything. Inevitably, going up some of the steep climbs on the course, you have to work a bit harder. But I don’t intend to let my heart rate go over 160 at any point. This may mean going slowly up the hills. But if anyone overtakes me, I’ll (hopefully) see them later on the run.

I’ve also got a power meter which I’ll use to maintain a constant output. No spiking, no surging, just a consistent ride between 210-240 watts, based on training numbers and functional threshold power testing. Nice and steady. It will feel unnaturally easy for the first half of the bike, I’ll basically be riding like a tourist, but it’s all about having the discipline to hold back and hold back, trusting in the science and numbers, and knowing that I will be setting myself up for a good run. You don’t necessarily “race” an Ironman, you “pace” an Ironman. I was in 32-minute 10K shape earlier this year, so it’s not like I’m a bad runner. It’s more like I’ve biked too hard in previous Ironmans to run well off the bike.

Keeping everything nice and controlled on the bike will mean I process food and drink better. I’ll make sure to drink water with any gel I take, which will dilute it and make it less “pukey”. The same for any food I take: I’ll wash it down with water. I’ll save the electrolyte and energy drinks for times on the bike when I’m not eating. Sickly gels and food + sickly drinks = sick! Rather than drink sips every 5 minutes, I’ll take slightly bigger drinks, slightly less frequently. The stomach processes liquid better like this (so I’ve read). Hopefully I’ll have no crashes, flat tyres, mechanical issues, and all of the strategising, discipline and riding-with-blinkers-on-ignoring-everyone-else will set me up for a good run. 

It’s a very hilly, twisty, technical, stop-start course with poor road surfaces. Any rain or wind will make it a bit dangerous and I’ll have to ride with care, so the conditions will play a big part. A 5:30 bike would mean an average speed of 20.4mph. A 5:25 bike would mean 20.7mph, and a 5:20 bike would mean 21mph. We’ll see. If it all goes to plan, I’ll be starting the marathon after 6-and-a-half hours of racing.

Then the run. Especially the second half of the run. This is what everything will come down to. Who slows down the least. If I start the run after 6:30, I need to run 3:20 to finish in 9:50 to give myself a chance of qualifying. I think 3:20 is reasonable, although I’ve said that every year… But if I went out today and raced a 10K, I could do it in 32 or 33 minutes. So surely I can run a 3:20 Ironman marathon…? A 3:20 marathon means averaging 7:40/mile. If I just go out for a run, 7:40/mile isn’t that fast. But try doing it in the second half of an Ironman marathon…

 

2014 top finish times in my age group. Interesting to note the bike/run correlation.

Slower bike = faster run, but it's a tough balance to strike.

 

2013 top finishers in my age group.
The bike course was slightly different pre-2014, but not much.

 

2012 age group top finishers 

Much like the bike, I expect the first 10 miles of the marathon to feel quite easy. I WILL NOT run any quicker than 7:45/mile for the first few miles. My heart rate should be in the low 140s. The “slower” I run the early miles, the faster I’ll finish. Forget about anyone who overtakes me in the first half of the run: “See you later alligator.” Stick to my plan. 7:40/mile. On the 3-mile drag out of Bolton, I might drop my pace by 10-20 seconds per mile, on the run back down into Bolton I might be running at 7:20/mile or so. But I plan to average 7:40 per mile for as long as I can, and hopefully in the final 10K I have enough left to lift the pace and strike for home. At this point, I can spike my heart rate right up. There’s nothing left to save myself for. Leave it all out there. This is what it comes down to. If I’d been racing with my head up to this point, now it’ll be guts and heart and soul and whatever else I have. If I have a sniff of qualifying, that will surely give me a kick. 

I plan to power-walk the steep sections: there’s one very steep section after 6 miles, just before joining the lapped section of the run. I know from experience, power-walking this is almost as quick as running it, but it’s a break, the legs recover, the heart rate falls, and it helps in the grand scheme of things. Similarly, running out of Bolton town centre, there’s a steep hill. I’ll go up it 3 times. I’ll power-walk it. Maybe it’ll only be a minute each time, but it will be a break. Mentally, something to look forward to. Something to help my overall run time, let the legs recover a fraction, lower the heart rate a little.

I won’t carry a bottle of water on the run, and so I won’t be sipping every 5 minutes. The stomach doesn’t process constant sipping well. And the bottle is a pain to carry. I’ll pass an aid station every 25 minutes or so. One gel with water every 25 minutes. That’ll do. I’ve done this in training. It works. I’ve done a 17 mile run off a 3:30 bike in training, and this run started off at 7:40/mile and felt great, and dropped down to 7:10/mile. It was no problem. I take confidence from this. I’ll have a few people supporting as well in Bolton. This makes so much difference, especially in the depths of the run.

I’ll hopefully cross the line and more than anything, I hope I can say, “That was as good as it could have been.” If I can say this, and I don’t qualify, then I can live with that (I hope!) I can only do my best, I can't control what other people do. But I believe that if I can say this, I’ll qualify. Because of the rolling start, I’m not sure if the live athlete tracker will show positions in real time (I’m number 801 for anyone who wants to track me). I’m not sure if I’ll know what position in my age group I am in when I’m out on the course, or when I finish, nothing will be sure. 

I’ll have to go into the athletes’ village, get my phone and have a look. I assume that people looking to qualify for Kona will be at the front of the line at the swim start, and will all be starting within a minute or two of each other. So hopefully after finishing, things will shake out pretty quickly on the online live results system, and I’ll find out. Hopefully I’ll be in the top 3. If not, I’ll take 4th. If I’m 5th, or 6th, 7th, 8th, or 9th, I’ll have a sleepless night and I’ll have to go to the awards ceremony the next day and put myself through the qualification roll-down nightmare. I really don’t want to have to do this. 

That’s it. I believe I can do all of the above. I hope it all goes to plan. Of course, I might do all of the above, finish in 9:40 or 9:50, and it might only be good enough for 19th, or 30th. I don’t know. I might finish in 10:25 and this might be good enough. I might get lucky at the roll-down. It’s getting tougher and tougher to qualify. As more Ironman races are added to the global calendar, each race receives fewer slots. In 2011, there would have been 6 or 7 slots for my age group. I heard that at the recent Ironman France, there were 4 qualifying slots in my age group. Just 4. And, incredibly, the final slot rolled down to 22nd place! If you are not there, at the awards ceremony, on the day, you can’t get the slot. I’m sure there were many horribly gutted triathletes who found out they “could have, would have, should have”, and I’m sure the guy in 22nd place could not believe it.

The official Ironman rules and regulations regarding qualification are here, numbers 2, 3 and 4 in particular:

http://www.ironman.com/triathlon/events/americas/ironman/world-championship/athletes/qualification-faq.aspx#axzz3fqtTw0y9

Post 88 - Off the scale

All the training has been done at this stage. From a “training” point of view, all that’s left to do is keep myself ticking over, nothing too tough, just some easy swims, easy spinning and easy jogging. All low-risk. If anything goes wrong now, or if I get an injury, or pick up an illness or a bug, there’s no time left to recover from it. It’s quite a stressful time to be honest, all the work and training and time and effort and money and thinking and planning and everything else, it all comes down to one race weekend and one day where everything needs to be perfect. It’s not like I can try again “next week” if something goes wrong. Ironman racing, and trying to qualify for Kona, is pretty unforgiving; you can’t race them every week, for lots of reasons: physical, mental, logistical, and financial.

From an “everything else” point of view, I’ve been working on/thinking about the following: race weekend logistics, food planning and buying, cleaning my bottles, sorting out new tyres, organising a bike service, sorting out race nutrition, looking repeatedly at the long-range weather forecast and working out what race clothing I’ll wear, contacting the hotel to make sure I get a quiet room and to make sure they’ll be able to keep my food in their fridges and heat it up when I need it, drinking lots, taking beetroot juice shots, salting my food, trying to get as much sleep as possible, stretching, checking all my batteries are full and software is up to date for my power meter, heart rate monitor, bike computer and running watch, checking to make sure that all my “spares” are OK (spare tubes with valve extenders, tyre levers, pump, cartridges and adaptor), sorting out my elastic laces and making sure they are the right tightness, and making sure all the paperwork I need is in order. So much to think about. So much to sort out. 

 

Where my bike normally lives. Needs a pre-race service now...

Monday this week was a reasonable day, I got through work, went to the supermarket on the way home, bought loads of food, went home, cooked for the week, ate, watched the Tour de France, and went to bed. 13 days until Ironman. 

Tuesday was a bad day. Three guys at work who had been off on Monday were now back. Two had chest infections, and one had a snotty cold. All three sit within 2 metres of me. This was an absolute nightmare. Very difficult to deal with. From an immune system point of view, I’m probably on a knife-edge. I’m at my physical peak, and I’m likely very prone to picking up an illness or a bug, which would literally ruin my whole year. I’ve had enough years and races ruined in the past few years. I don’t want another disaster. I scheduled a few meetings in different parts of the office and stayed away from my desk as much as I could. I didn’t train on Tuesday night. 12 days until Ironman.

Wednesday was no better. Cough cough, hack hack, sneeze sneeze, snot snot. I was absolutely convinced that I was going to get sick. It was a dead cert. Sitting where I was, with two chest infections and one cold in very close proximity, I may as well have said to a doctor, “Inject me with chest infection germs and sneeze all over me…” I was going crazy. Probably the most stressed I've ever been. And I don't get stressed easily, I'm pretty resilient. Whether psychological, whether stress, or whether for real, I didn’t feel great going home after work on Wednesday. I did some easy training, seriously overdosed on the Vitamin C, and went to bed. Would I wake up sick the next morning? 11 days until Ironman…

 

Read the small print... hasn't happened to me yet...

I decided to take the rest of the week off work. This really is a unique circumstance that I am in, a once-in-a-lifetime thing, something I have worked so hard for, and something which has knocked me back time after time. I don’t want to be knocked back again. Going into work was going to seriously jeopardise it all. What would I do if I got a chest infection, or even a cold? I’d never forgive myself. So I stayed away. I hate being off work for no real reason. But that’s what I had to do. 

On Thursday I slept in, and I discovered that another colleague had called in sick. I guess I made the right decision. I did some more easy training: a 30-minute spin on the turbo trainer, and a 30-minute run on grass in the park. I stopped the run early as I could feel that my left knee didn’t quite seem to be 100%. Argh. For the next few days I would walk up and down stairs like a crab, avoiding putting weight through my left knee.

I was feeling pretty hacked off with wondering if I would get sick, not being in work, and now a knee that didn’t feel right. So I decided to give myself a natural boost and I went outside to sit in the sun. It was hot. I took my top off, thinking I’d get as much sun on my skin as possible. I’m usually very careful in the sun. I only spent about 30 minutes outside. And I got sunburned, on the tops of my shoulders. Argh. I didn’t realise until I took a shower later that evening and it hurt like crazy. To be fair, it wasn’t bad sunburn, it didn’t stop me from sleeping, but it was another thing I could have done without. I used loads and loads of E45 moisturising cream, and hoped for the best. 10 days until Ironman…

On Friday I used my time to sort out a few things. I searched through the bag that contains all my bike “ancillaries” and sorted out my spare tubes, valve extenders, bottle velcro, batteries and software updates. It all took ages. And my phone decided to pack it in halfway through a software update, and this took 2 hours on the phone with Apple’s customer services to put right. More hassle. 

 

Sorting tyres and tubes

I finally went for a swim later on Friday. As tough as the training is, it’s often the easy part… I swam a good warm-up, a 400m flat-out time trial, and a good warm-down, making 1500m in total. I swam the 400m in 5:42. I started off with a lane to myself, then after I had just started my 400m time trial, some slow fool decided he belonged in the fast lane, doing breaststroke and backstroke. He might have cost me a couple of seconds.

Still, 5:42 for 400m, not bad, I thought. Then I looked through my records and saw that I swam 400m in 2011 in 5:43. I was swimming 4 sessions per week and 10-15km per week back in 2011, and time constraints now mean that I manage only 2 swim sessions and 6-7km per week. I swam 57 minutes for the Ironman swim in 2011. Would I take a 57-minute Ironman swim next week? I probably would actually… 9 days until Ironman…

I finally got my Chartered Engineer certificates through in the post, from the Engineering Council and the Institution of Mechanical Engineers. The end of a long process, but let’s face it, I still have a career’s worth of learning ahead of me.

It would be a good couple of weeks if I could add a Kona slot to these certs

On Saturday I slept late again. I “only” spent two hours on the turbo, which passed very quickly compared to the 4 and 5 hour epics I have done earlier in the year. I started off at 130 watts (easy peasy) and built up to 240 watts after 70 minutes, then gradually ramped down again. Then I went for a very tentative run, hoping my knee would feel OK. Thankfully it held out. I had some very rare free time for the rest of Saturday, and I made sure I was sitting as much as possible. In front of the TV, inevitably. Tour de France and Wimbledon tennis were on the menu. At 9pm, a film came on. “Ted”. I wanted to watch it, I’ve wanted to see it for ages. What did I do? I went to bed, of course. 8 days until Ironman… it’s not often you only have 8 days until Ironman…

On Sunday I went to the pool and did a very easy 2km swim. Then I went to the shop and bought all of their flapjacks, and lots of lemons and limes. I drink lemon and lime juice, diluted with a bit of water. It’s good for your insides, and an additional benefit is that it also keeps the skin on your face nice and supple, due to the faces you pull when drinking it. “Gurning”, I think it’s called… 

 

Cool photo of the start of Ironman UK. The iconic mass swim start
is no more at Ironman UK, they are doing a land-based rolling start this year.
A couple of athletes will be released every second.
This means no warm-up in the water, and also that the faster swimmers will
probably be swimming over the top of the slower swimmers in the second lap.

And it means it's not really a "race" any more, but more like a 140.6 mile time trial.

It is what it is...

And that’s it. That has been my week. Not fun. I thought it would be an easy tapering week. And it has been an easy tapering week, but with so many curveballs thrown in. So much hassle and stress and stuff to deal with. I’ve dealt with it all though, I’ve got through the week, and only have a few more days to get through. 7 days until Ironman…

Training done this week:

Mon 6 July: Rest
Tue 7 July: Rest
Wed 8 July: 1 hour turbo
Thu 9 July: 30 min turbo, 25 min run
Fri 10 July: 1.5km swim (400m in 5:42)
Sat 11 July: 2 hour turbo, 25 min run
Sun 12 July: Swim 2km

Totals: Swim 3.5km, Bike 70 miles, Run 7 miles

Post 87 - Last tough training week

The last “tough” training week is now over, and all the training work is now done. From a training point of view, all that’s left to do is taper off and do some easy swimming, spinning and running to consolidate and keep myself ticking over. I made a decision at the start of this week that I wouldn’t train to quite the same intensity level as I would have done in a tough training week earlier in the year. There’s no point in risking anything and injuring myself, and I want the next two weeks to be spent tapering well, not recovering from training that was tougher than it needed to be. Saying that, I trained pretty hard this week, on what was easily the hottest week of the year.

Monday was the usual routine of go-to-the-shop, get home, cook a pile of food, eat and get-to-bed-as-soon-as-possible. The usual pasta, tomato sauce and turkey, jazzed up with peppers, onions, ginger, carrots, broccoli, garlic, turmeric and chilli. I never usually add salt to my food, but it was forecast to be very hot this week, which would mean more sweating, and I’d lose more salt in my sweat. So I added a bit of salt to my food this week. I’ll continue to do this through until the Ironman. I also made sure to drink lots.

 

That'll do for a few nights...

On Tuesday I tried a repeat of my FTP (functional threshold power) test. I did this test in June and averaged 324 watts for 20 minutes. I tried it again a couple of weeks ago but started off too hard and faded after 12 minutes. I tried it again this week. I have a thermostat in my room. It was reading 31 degrees C (90-odd F) as I was doing the test. There was no way to cool the room. Even with the windows open and my fan on full blast, it was all just roasting hot air circulating. A bit like Hawaii might be…

 

Hot...

The test didn’t go well. My guess is that it was simply too hot. To go as hard as I wanted to go in such heat, at over 170bpm for 20 minutes with absolutely zero cooling while sweating loads and losing electrolytes, was too much. I wanted “flat out” to be something like 330-340 watts. In such hot conditions, “flat-out” would have been around 320 watts. I guess earlier in the year when I did a successful FTP test, the temperature would have been well under 20C in my room. A big difference.

On Wednesday I went to the park and did a fartlek run. It was roasting hot on Wednesday as well. My dodgy Garmin watch has finally been replaced, and a new one arrived earlier in the week. I was keen to see if the new one worked any better. My fartlek run is one minute fast, one minute slow, repeated. The fast parts were sub-5 minute mile pace, the slow parts something like 8-9 minutes per mile. The Garmin seemed good. The taste in my mouth got saltier and saltier. There were a few people in the park, lounging in the shade under the trees. I’m sure they were watching me, wondering why I was running, and how mad I was…

 

Final tough turbo session. Ironman world champs on the laptop for inspiration...

On Thursday I did a good interval session on the bike: 2-minute tough intervals with 2 minutes of easy recovery. I alternated the hard intervals so that I was pedalling at a very fast cadence, and then at a very slow cadence, while maintaining a high power output for both the fast and the slow parts. It was a good session, helping with leg speed and form, but again it was very warm. On Friday I swam some 50m sprints, to work on pure swim speed. I did 20 sets of 50m, each in just under 40 seconds, with a slow 50m swim to recover, in around 1 minute. This was also a good session, followed by the final set of single-leg pedalling drills on the turbo before the Ironman. 

 

Salty shorts

I made a few purchases this week. I’ll start using my new swimming goggles – new ones give better vision and also are less likely to leak. I’ll wear in and wash in my new socks, as I think that blisters are mostly caused by old socks. Newer socks are softer and easier on the feet. I’ve got lots of beetroot juice now and I’ll take a shot of it every day until the Ironman – it is full of nitrates and these nitrates are supposed to help with endurance sport. I stocked up on energy bars and gels. Piles of quinoa too.

 

One shot of beetroot juice per day for the next 2 weeks... I'll take any edge I can get...

I also spent time fiddling around with/stressing over/effing and blinding at my bike. I wanted to take it out on the road on Saturday this week to see how it felt, and see what power outputs correspond with what heart rates. Apart from the Bristol triathlon, I haven’t had my triathlon bike on the road at all this year, and I haven’t been on the road at all with my power meter. The damned valve extenders were one problem to deal with. I have 80mm deep wheel rims (good for aerodynamics). Inner tubes with valves long enough for 80mm rims don’t exist (I don’t know why, this is beyond my comprehension).

So, you have to buy hellish valve extenders, break the thread on an existing inner tube valve, use plumber tape to taper up the threads, screw them together, and seemingly, hope for the best when pumping up the tyres. I’m sure I didn’t have anything like full pressure in my tyres at the Bristol triathlon. Despite having had them taped up last year, they had all come loose. Steve prevented me from completely losing the plot, and got them sorted out. So I was able to pump the tyres up hard. I have very little confidence in these awful extenders. Entire forum threads are devoted to discussing how terrible they are. And yet no-one will produce an inner tube with a single valve long enough for deep-rim wheels. I also spent ages reading up on the internet and watching videos about Zipp wheel hubs and bearings, how tight the bearings should be, and how much play should be in the rear wheel. It all seems a bit subjective to me, and another hassle I could do without.

I took the bike out into Kent on Saturday. It was hell. Bad roads, potholes, grit, glass, debris, traffic, pollution, junctions, traffic lights. It was literally the least enjoyable bike ride I’ve ever had, and one of the reasons why I’m getting out of London soon. I spent the entire 4 hours crapping myself. I was hardly able to get down into the aero position at all. I didn’t do much meaningful riding throughout the 4 hours, and so I didn’t get much meaningful data from my power meter, as I’d hoped I would. I followed the bike ride with a strong 60-minute run in the heat, at just over 7 minutes per mile, much faster than the Ironman pace I think I need to maintain.

 

The legs are quite ripped at this stage, at full fitness, at the peak.
Just let me get through the 2-week taper with no issues...

My tyres had been immaculate prior to this ride in Kent, almost brand new. After the ride they were cut up, so this means I’ll need new tyres. I can’t risk riding the Ironman on cut-up tyres and getting a puncture or a blow-out. That would put paid to qualification. But I don’t have a lot of time to get new tyres and find some way to get them worn in. Also, there was an awful creaking noise from my bottom bracket when I stood up on the pedals. I’ll need to get this sorted out too, and again I don’t have a lot of time in which to do it. I’m sure I’ll figure something out, but it’s another hassle I could do without.

Sunday morning saw me in the pool doing drills with my hand paddles, pull buoy and rubber band. Sunday lunchtime saw me watching the Formula 1, doing my ironing, and eating my lunch. Sunday afternoon saw me do a short 40 minute run, with 2 x 10 minutes at around 5:30 per mile. I was going to do 3 of these intervals, but decided that two would be enough, there was no point in hurting my legs (or worse) with two weeks until race day. My replacement Garmin watch seems to be functioning well. Sunday late afternoon saw me watching the final kilometres of Stage 2 of the Tour de France, and Sunday evening saw me grunting and grimacing on the physio table, having work done on my back and glutes. 

 

Good timing, back from my Sunday run just as this was starting...

And that was my final tough training week. Now it’s just two weeks of tapering left, plus getting everything organised, sorting out the bike, tweaking equipment, sleeping as much as possible, drinking lots of water and beetroot juice, salting my food, carbo-loading, and hoping for the best. I’ve done the absolute best I could with the circumstances available up to now, and as such I believe that I have a legitimate case to hope for the best on race day. I look forward to actually getting on the start line and getting on with the race, because at that point, there really is nothing more that can be done, changed, thought about etc. The only thing left when on the start line will be to race… Hopefully the weather will be kind. No rain, not too hot, not too windy, and a bit overcast would do nicely…

Training done this week was as follows:

Mon 29 June: Rest
Tue 30 June: 1 hour turbo (20 min FTP)
Wed 1 July: 30 min fartlek run
Thu 2 July: 1:30 turbo (10 x 2 mins hard/slow, easy, hard/fast, easy)
Fri 3 July: Swim 3k (20 x 50m fast, 50m slow: 0:40/1:00), 1:05 turbo (10 x 2 mins R/L/B)
Sat 4 July: 4 hour bike, 60 min run
Sun 5 July: Swim 3.3k (paddle drills), 40 minute run (2 x 10mins hard)

Totals: Swim 6.3km, Bike 145 miles, Run 20 miles