Over the years I’ve been
doing Ironman, I’ve come across all sorts (of triathlon-related stuff, let’s
get that straight) on the internet – on forums, triathlon websites, Facebook,
Twitter, online retailer websites, coaching websites, YouTube and various blogs
written by various people. I’m going to be a lazy blogger this time around and
copy and paste some of the best and most inspirational words I’ve read. I don’t
need to do much more because the words really do speak for themselves. The
people quoted below have done the business. After multiple attempts, setbacks,
strategising, and finally successfully solving the gigantic puzzle that is top
level Ironman racing and everything else associated with it. I’ve taken some of
the best extracts from their blog posts about the races at which they qualified
for Kona. Powerful stuff.
The below was written by Roger
Barr, Kona qualifier at Ironman UK 2014, extracted from his race report on: http://www.rightzone.co.uk/training-and-races/success-kona-bound/
He’s in the final stages of
the Ironman marathon, thinking that he needs to be top 6 in his age group to
qualify…
Even though I was starting to really not feel good (only 6 miles done) I knew all I had to do was keep going. It could get better. Deep down I knew it probably wasn’t going to get better and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen as the race progressed. I wasn’t really mentally prepared for what was to come although I’m proud of the way I dealt with it.
I descended into Bolton and started to make a point of walking the aid stations. I wasn’t going fast though. I didn’t look at my watch anymore. I decided it was pointless. I wasn’t going to get any good news from it and I certainly didn’t want to know how far I still had to run. I was suffering now. Really suffering and there was 16 miles to go. This wasn’t right. This isn’t how it’s meant to be. I’d put in the training and should have been stronger than I was. I kept on going. I wanted to stop. I really wanted to stop.
My head was full of negative thoughts and the only thing that kept me going was the thought of having to explain to everyone what went wrong. I was also annoyed that I might have to go through another long 9 month built up campaign. Again. To put my friends and family through it all again. So as you can probably tell I wasn’t mentally or physically in a good place.
On reflection I didn’t have any mental strategies to deal with this. I knew one thing though. I wasn’t going to give up. I hadn’t been passed so I was still running in a Kona qualifying position in 4th position in the M35-39 age group.
So I just kept on going. One foot in front of the other. My eyes weren’t even open for long periods. The course was relentless. Wanting to just lie down by the side of the road and end the misery. The worst part was by now not knowing my position and imagining that I was probably down to 7th or 8th now and none of the agony would count for anything.
I was running down the long hill
and inexplicably broke into a walk for about 15s. Then got going again and ran
to the final aid station which is some 500m from the finish line. You’d imagine
that stopping wouldn’t be an option. But I did. I was so tuned to just hanging
in to each aid station that I walked through it and put water on my head. I
then got going and ran in towards the town hall. My mum and dad were screaming
and had people round them screaming. I didn’t hear any of it. I was in a zombie
trance. I made my way down the finish shoot and all I can remember was zipping
up my tri suit for the photos. But then I ran down and over the finish line
looking down only to stop my Garmin. I didn’t punch the air, I had no emotion.
It was over. Then I collapsed. I’d run a personal worst 3hrs46 marathon and
finished in 10hrs24.
I vaguely remember
being picked up and put into a wheelchair as the medical team kicked into
action. They were excellent and I came to in the medical room with loads of
sensors stuck on me. At this point I felt flat. I felt like I’d been through a
trauma but most of all I was sure I probably didn’t do enough to get in the top
6. The medical team brought me back round with salt water, cups of tea (which
tasted sooo good) and some biscuits. They don’t do drips apparently. My parents
had spent 20 mins trying to work out where I’d gone. Surely I’d be near the
pizza? They eventually worked out what had happened and brought my bag with the
change of clothes. My mum sat next to the bed and said “how do you feel”? My
response was “I feel like shit, I feel like shit because I went through hell
and it was all for nothing”. She then informed me “But you did it, you were
6th”.
I can’t remember
the last time I shed a tear but I broke down crying. I think the enormity of
the situation wacked me in the face. All I had to do was get in the top 6 and
I’d done it. But I couldn’t be 100% sure until the presentation the next day
and “the list”.
I slept quite well
that night and woke up at 6am. I then spent an hour working out how many people
had started all the age groups and trying to calculate how many slots there
would be. I found a cool website that actually tries to second guess the WTC
algorithm. I was fairly convinced there was 6 slots. At 10am we had to go back
to the expo tent at the stadium to see “the list”. I walked in and before I
could get to it I glanced over to Michael Collins and his wife Mary. He put the
thumbs up and at that moment I knew it was for real.
At 11am I went to the Kona rolldown and awards and
picked up my slot. It was fitting that my parents were there having been there
for my first swim races in 1989, my first cycling race in 1991, my first
marathon in 2001, my sub 2.45 marathon in 2013 and finally the Hawaii Ironman qualification
slot.
Cutting it fine? I
was 23s ahead of 7th and he didn’t get a slot. The gap might be small but
there’s an infinite gulf between 6th and 7th. The guy in 7th is frustrated,
annoyed, regretful and faces at least 5-6 months of hard training before he can
try again. It will likely be a lot longer. His mind is full of “if onlys” and
he probably sat there at the rolldown hoping for a slot to roll only to see all
6 be snapped up in front of him. The disappointment of the day itself where he
hurt himself harder than he hurt before compounded by a restless nights sleep
and then the huge disappointment of a rolldown ceremony where it didn’t happen.
He has to explain to people that he didn’t get a slot. Over and over. After all
that training. All those early morning sessions. All that sacrifice. I’ve been
in his shoes and it hurts. And that’s without considering the money it’s gonna
cost to go again. He may never qualify. He feels like it’s his nemesis. The
holy grail. I don’t know the guy in 7th but I feel like I know him. Many of you
reqding this (Assuming you’ve got this far) know the man in 7th because they’ve
been there. Those same people have also qualified. I missed out in 2004 by 16s
and it haunted me for years.
The bloke in 8th.
He can go fcuck himself. He was 1 min down and got everything he deserved. He
was in an illegal pace line that caught me after 100km. He spent 80km cheating
and that’s the bit I could observe. No doubt spent the first lap doing the
same.
The guy in 6th has
found inner peace, is on continuous high, wakes up and pinches himself, he
thinks about it at least a few times every minute, has a trip of a lifetime
ahead, will spend the rest of his life knowing he’s taken part in the Hawaii
Ironman. The worlds most iconic endurance race. The original. A race that most
triathletes would love to do. That guy has fulfilled a boyhood dream. Something
he’s had dreams about as a grown man. Think back to how you felt when you got
the scaletrix track on christmas day. Coz that’s the closest to what it feels
like. It’s literally changed my life. I’m grateful for the opportunity, talent,
luck, strength, understanding family that allowed me to achieve it.
Wow.
The last paragraph and the third last paragraph in particular. I know very well
the feeling in the third-last paragraph (I’ve been the guy in 5th at Ironman
Wales where 5th had been good enough a few weeks previously at Ironman UK, but
5th wasn’t good enough at Wales, I needed to be 4th, but I didn’t know this
until the next day at the roll-down, and nothing rolled down to 5th. Plus
similar feelings at all of my other races too. I don’t know the feeling in the
last paragraph but it sounds good to me.
He’s just starting his marathon but he didn’t feel he
biked well…
Onto the run…..run time is fun time…or is it!? I had a plan; 4.35
min kms and if I was around 10th in my age group at the start of the
run I felt I could run myself into a Kona spot. My thoughts at the time were
that there was no chance after that bike I could be anywhere near 10th place! My strategy was adjusted and I
thought I would catch my friend Phillipe. I knew he biked five minutes quicker
than me and so we could then jog the marathon together and accept that I was
not good enough on the day for this Kona dream. Soon enough I was running with
Phillipe along the tow path. A brief chat and the question of where we might
possibly be sitting position wise in our age group. I was managing to hold my
target pace and feeling pretty good. It was perfect timing when my support
team appeared. Mary shouted out that I was 12th in my age group and the
information started to materialise. I soon realised that most of the guys had
slow bike splits and the ones that went too hard were already starting to fall
apart. Like a hound to a blood trail, I knew it was game on and time to dig
deep! I never studied our start list and my philosophy has always been to focus
on my own race and not on the other guys around me but there was one chap I
knew who was on good form after a great race in Mallorca. I predicted him to be
a podium finish at IMUK, Roger Barr. Running down into Bolton
for the first time I saw Roger coming up the hill and not looking healthy at
all! I knew if I could keep my pace and run sensibly I would certainly be
passing him. One foot in front of the other…..step by step.
At this stage I had linked up with a chap called Joe Duckworth, a
local lad from Bolton and we were running a similar pace. Joe had already
qualified for Kona at IM Wales & was racing Bolton “for fun” (as you do!).
We started chatting and working together. Joe gave me the following words of
advice that I needed to hear, “MC keeping running like this and you will go
to Kona, the guys will fall apart on this course, it happens every year”.
It was these words that sealed the deal in my head and my heart. Another lap
down and the word was I was 9th….the stress
levels in my support crew and those following me online were immense. I knew
that I was doing all I could and that I was digging as deep as I possibly
could. I was drawing energy and strength from various thoughts, memories and
words (as I am sure we all do when deep in the pace cave). In particular,
a running picture my mom sent me of me running on an athletics track when I was
eight years old kept coming to mind. Positive thoughts like I have been running
all my life and Wayne telling me that the ironman marathon is not about who runs the
fastest but who slows down the least is what
kept me going.
The final
turn in Bolton town, over the cobble stones and back up the long hill for the
last time. Everything was hurting; small quick steps, one last climb and back
downhill to the red carpet were my thoughts. Slowing slightly up the hill but
still maintaining a good pace. At the 37km mark I past Roger and I knew if I
was ahead of him, I must certainly be in the mix! I turned at the top and back
down to town for the final 3kms, the legs felt strong and the pace was sub 4.30
minute kms . Down into Bolton, back over the cobble stones and floating with
each stride as I turned the final bend and down the red carpet to the familiar
ironman voice of Paul Kaye.
Marathon
time 3hours, 22min. Finally the marathon off the bike I had been hoping for and
on a tough run course in the heat (not to mention off a horrific bike).
Job done! The finish line was epic; I had my medal around my neck and got
to share Tamsin’s euphoria of winning IMUK on debut.
Most importantly, there they all were, my stellar support team who
gave me the news that I had finished 5th in my age group and that MOST likely
we will be booking flights to the big Island. A sense of relief,
happiness and also the reality that in 10 weeks’ time I will have to do this
all over again for my last ironman dance, Kona; what a way to complete my
ironman journey. What was never my dream was now a dream finish! Those that
race Ironman know it’s about overcoming adversity and digging deep. On a
day when I thought my chances of a Kona slot were totally gone, I managed to
run myself from 12th in my age group to 5th.
I still maintain that overriding on the bike is our biggest
mistake. Ironman racing really is ALL about the
run….the first 30kms you run with your head and the last 12 kms you run with
your heart and soul.
Wow again. It wasn’t me who made those
sentences bold text, that's as they were written in the blog. They ring very true. Michael qualified in 2014. In 2012 he had called it a day, having done a few Ironman races at a reasonable level. An acquaintance had then said these immortal words to him:
"If you have the ability to qualify for Kona it would be a waste not to use it".
Then:
"The more I thought about it, the more the desire started to grow (again)..."
Then another acquaintance who has competed at Kona said:
"Kona is certainly a must and something that lives up to the hype..."
Then:
"My decision was made. I need to get myself to the Big Island."
Then he went and did it...
More copying and pasting is below. The
following musings on what it takes were written by Paul Burt, who qualified for
Kona at Ironman South Africa earlier in 2015.
“Obsessed
is just a word the lazy use to describe the dedicated.”
That’s one
of the cringeworthy ‘inspirational quotes’ that obsessed athletes wheel out to
defend their mindset and what they do. It’s a load of rubbish. I’ve been
utterly obsessed. I think everyone who puts themselves through endurance sport
training with the aim of being as good as they can be is obsessed. Obsession is
good for performance or else you wouldn’t put yourself through what it takes to
get there. It can also be highly damaging if not kept in check to make sure
some form of balance is maintained. But anyone doing this silly sport of ours who
claims they’re not obsessed is most likely lying. Ask their families…
I didn’t particularly choose the obsession. I
thought that qualifying for Kona might be possible one day, but it was a
distant dream. Watching the Kona pro race unfold online into the small hours in
early October for the last seven years. Seeing a number friends qualify and
have the trip of a lifetime. And then I went 9:30 at Ironman South Africa in 2013, missing out by one place.
From that day onwards I’ve not gone a single day or a training session without
thinking about it. Totally obsessing about it. Maybe 700 or 800 training
sessions with it being bang in the front of my mind. The near misses and
explosions along the way only heightened the obsession. I simply had to do it.
Having said all that, it helps that I adore training and racing. That makes the
obsession work with other parts of my life. No matter what is going right or
wrong in work and relationships, training is my constant – my control
mechanism. My go-to stress reliever and drug of choice. My balance. It also
helps that I’m analytical and love solving complex problems. Getting myself
onto the start line of an Ironman and in physical and mental shape to execute a
race to the best of my ability has been like the business analysis I do on a
daily basis for work.
My friends
have a lot of faith in me and everyone knew I was going to qualify eventually.
Quite often I’ve been asked ‘What’s the plan after Kona?’ ‘What happens when
you get there?’ ‘Of course you’ll get there – what next?’ Truthfully I never
let myself think that far, which for someone with an obsessive planning mindset
is very out of character. I just had to get there before worrying about
anything afterwards.
Whilst it
certainly didn’t feel like it at the time, in hindsight the way Ironman Wales in 2014 panned out was the best thing that
could have happened to me. For two reasons. Firstly I had a bad day – for about
seven hours I was feeling crap, performing way off what I’m capable of – yet I
pulled out a strong second half of the run, a negative split marathon and
learned that a bad patch in an Ironman, no matter how long it lasts, can pass
if you stick at it. Previously I’d capitulated mentally when things go
off-plan. Secondly, not qualifying for Kona was a blessing. Missing out by one
place again was painful. But that performance didn’t deserve to qualify. I
needed that ‘failure’ to send me back to the drawing board and make sure I
qualified with a strong performance. Otherwise I’d be going to Kona with doubt
in my mind whether I really can race this stupid distance.
So back to Ironman South Africa after another
winter of training whilst everyone else is in bed or the pub. Compared to
previous years, I turned up with not that much training under the belt having
been fatigued and sick throughout November and December. I started training
again in January, only 12 weeks out from the race. I was panicking about this,
but James (my coach) was
relaxed that we’d be fine. I managed to get two weeks training in Spain in
February in between jobs, but even then James held me back to only 23 hours a
week – that’s no more than some top age groupers do in a normal working week.
The result was that I turned up on race week a little undercooked compared to
where I might normally be, but physically and mentally fresh. Also I turned up
on race day healthy. Doing less training and some diet changes meant I was
purposefully 3kgs heavier than normal race weight. Strong not skinny. And this
time I didn’t get sick on race week. Who knew?
Another blog
(or set of blogs) that I’ve been a regular follower of are written by David
Rowe. I first came across his “Kona diaries” written on a daily basis for about
3 weeks straight, while he was on Hawaii for the Ironman world championships.
It’s brilliant reading:
http://rowerunning.co.uk/kona-diaries-2013/
Needless to say, he also wrote about his
qualifying race at Ironman UK 2013:
And he went and qualified for a second time
at Ironman Wales 2014. I “met” him at this race – I overtook him going up a
hill in the first hour of the bike, recognised him, said I thought his blog was
great and wished him a good day. He did indeed have a good day that day.
He’s currently on Hawaii for his second
Ironman World Championship event, and needless to say, the Kona diaries are
back for 2015:
http://rowerunning.co.uk/kona-diaries-2015/
There are two more blogs I’d like to mention.
Debbie Moore, a girl I worked with in the USA many summers ago, has taken up
Ironman. She’s very good. She was more than likely going to absolutely smash
Ironman Kalmar in Sweden to pieces, and more than likely give the pros a run
for their money. Until she was knocked off her bike a couple of months before
the race and suffered all sorts of injuries and health complications in the
aftermath of her accident. She made it to the start line at Kalmar. I honestly
didn’t expect much, but she demonstrated some seriously superhuman qualities
and she qualified for Kona. Wow. She declined to accept her Kona slot,
rightfully knowing she had put her body through hell, and rightfully knowing
she needed to rest and recover, and rightfully knowing that when she races next
year, she will achieve incredible things. Her blog is here:
https://debtrisforkona.wordpress.com/
Finally my good friend Matt O’Donnell, who
has been to pretty much all of my Ironman races to support, and who has been my
training buddy when going up and down and up and down and up and down (and so
on) El Teide on Tenerife, has decided to do Ironman Wales next year. I can’t
wait to go and support. He’s blogging about his own Ironman journey. I can’t
wait to follow it:
Finally finally,
Chris Shipley, (another Ironman supporter of mine) has entered Ironman UK next
year. Where’s your blog?!
Finally finally
finally, thanks to all of the above for the inspiration, and congratulations on
Kona/best of luck on your Ironman journeys.
