Post 131 - Dodging bullets and going sub-4

This was the week of a 100 mile time trial in Cambridgeshire, and for me it was quite an important event and a good way to gauge where I’m at, 4 weeks out from Ironman UK. In 2013 I did the Icknield 100 mile time trial, up and down the A1 dual carriageway near Bedford, very early in the morning. I did 4:14, and this translated into a 5:30 hilly bike leg at Ironman UK not long afterwards. It counted for nothing though as I erupted with vomiting and diarrhoea at mile 16 of the run while leading my age group…

In 2014, I went back to the same Icknield time trial and did 3:59 for the 100 miles, just over 25mph. I was really pleased with this, a full 15 minutes quicker than the year before, and it gave me a lot of confidence for Ironman UK in 2014. I had hoped to bike in the region of 5:15 – 5:20 at Ironman UK, which would have put me in a strong position to qualify for Kona. Ironman UK in 2014 went off the rails too unfortunately, as a sports massage gone wrong just 2 weeks out from race day left me hospitalised and hooked up to intravenous medication for 3 days…

I didn’t do a 100 mile time trial in 2015 as the Icknield event wasn’t held, and the North Norfolk 100 mile time trial was cancelled at short notice. But I planned to do the ECCA (Eastern Counties Cycling Association) 100 mile time trial event on 19th June 2016 as part of my build-up to Ironman UK this year. It’s a similar course to Icknield, up and down a flat dual carriageway (the A11 near Cambridge), and I hoped to get a good gauge of where my level is at in the run-up to Ironman UK. So, for me, the ECCA 100 was an important event.

I did a long run on the evening of Wednesday 15th June, and this was to be the last tough training session of a training block before the 100 miler. I would have the Thursday, Friday and Saturday to recover and do some easy training, tapering down for the 100. I find long runs very tough on the body and very difficult to recover from. My stomach felt a bit upset during this run, but I got through it, ate well afterwards (lots of ginger and garlic which apparently have anti-inflammatory properties, and make you smell nice too), gave my legs the hot and cold shower treatment, and went to bed early. I didn’t sleep well, and didn’t feel great the next morning.

I went to work as usual, and everyone at work seemed to be ill, coughing, spluttering and sneezing everywhere. My body was depleted from the long run the night before, I didn’t feel great, and now I had to sit with people who were coughing and spluttering. I nearly cracked up, I wanted so much to not be there, and by the end of the day my health had gone downhill, I felt terrible, and I literally could barely speak. Needless to say, I was in a dark, dark mood. I went home, and did what I could to try to mitigate. I had two shots of strong vodka, two raw chillis, two raw cloves of garlic, a chunk of raw ginger, and two kiwi fruits. Then I went to bed.

I felt worse in the morning. My eyes were leaking gunge and were all puffed up and twitching. I was absolutely raging. Would it be worth doing the 100 miler? How long would this illness take to run its course? To be fair, by lunchtime I was feeling a bit better and I went to the pool and did a short swim. Then I got home, and went back on the emergency mitigation diet – more vodka, garlic, chillis, ginger and kiwi fruits, and early to bed, hoping for the best.

By the next morning I was feeling a lot better but was very aware that I had felt terrible only a day or two previously. I wondered if I was out of the woods. Would competing in the 100 mile time trial do me any good? Would it deplete and tire me to the point where things might get very bad? I’m only 4 weeks away from the Ironman – I don’t want to be feeling sick at this stage. I knew I wouldn’t get much sleep before the 100 – I had decided to drive up on the morning of the event rather than stay in a hotel – this would save money and would mean that I wouldn’t be risking a noisy hotel. But with a 5:47am start, I’d have to be out of bed before 3am…




I also knew that the morning after the 100, assuming I wasn’t ill, I’d be up very early to go to Italy (with all that entails – stuffy planes, stuffy taxis, stuffy hotels, stuffy meetings rooms, and in close company with colleagues who were seemingly all ill). There are limits on how much a body and an immune system can tolerate before they break down, resulting in illness…

Anyway, I decided I’d go to the 100, see how I felt, and if I was really feeling bad I would just have to pull out. So I went and picked up a rental car on Saturday afternoon and got all my gear together. I did most of the preparation on Saturday afternoon, so that when Sunday morning came, all I had to do was load my bike into the car and set off.

I went to bed at 7:00pm on Saturday night, with the alarm set for before 3am – the earliest I’ve ever got up in my life. It wasn’t fun. The drive up was quick as there wasn’t much traffic, but there were a few spits of rain and the sky was looking a bit ominous – a bit different from the sunshine the forecast had predicted. I arrived to Fulbourne, a small village just outside Cambridge, and pulled into the village hall which was serving as the event headquarters. It was said that this was one of the fastest 100-mile time trial courses in the UK, and it had attracted a quality, quality field. It was busy at the village hall, people were unloading their cars, preparing their bikes, getting changed, rubbing deep heat into their muscles, putting on aerodynamic helmets, and pedalling off for the 3-mile warm-up ride to the start line.

There was some incredible equipment on show – the best that money can buy. Gleaming, shiny disc wheels, bikes, skinsuits, aero helmets, the works. I have a nice bike, there’s no doubt about that, but some of the bikes here were leagues above mine. You could only stare…

The first rider was away at around 4:45am, with a rider starting every minute. I was starting at 5:47am, and riders would be starting up until 6:15am. I got ready, and decided that although it was cold so early in the morning, I’d only wear one layer, thinking that things would warm up when the sun got up. I did put on arm warmers and gloves. 

I was about to head to the start when I realised I hadn’t locked the car, and I had put the car key (which wasn’t a “proper” key but one of those credit-card type keys) into the aerodynamic storage box behind my seat tube. No problem – just take the key out, lock the car, and get going. Except I couldn’t get the aero box lid open, it had completely jammed. Feck it! It wouldn’t open, no matter what I did. And, while bending over the bike and trying to get the aero box lid open, I tweaked something on the right hand side of my lower back, and was pretty peeved.

My wallet and phone and stuff were in the car. Time was getting tight. The aero box wouldn’t open. I had to go. I decided to chance it and left the car unlocked… I hoped that no-one would be prowling round a village hall so early in the morning, and there were loads of other riders’ cars there too – safety in numbers… I knew I’d have a problem getting the “key” out of the box when I got back though (assuming the car was still there), but that could wait, I had 100 miles to ride first…

Ready to go...

The way to the start was well signposted, and I rode to the start debating whether to stop and duck behind a bush, as I half-needed to pee. Time was very tight and I was glad I didn’t stop in the end, as I got to the start line with about 90 seconds to spare. I spent those 90 seconds wriggling and jiggling my back, trying to shake it out and loosen it. Then it was time to go. “5, 4, 3, 2, 1, go…” said the starter, and between pedalling off, trying to start my Garmin computer, and being close to the verge, I almost swerved off the road and into the ditch. I heard a “whoops” behind me and a few laughs, and I finally got going properly.

Almost immediately, the course turned onto the dual carriageway. And that was it. Northbound for around 16 miles, up a slip road, a U-turn at an elevated roundabout, down the opposite slip road, then southbound for around 16 miles, then up another slip road and another U-turn around another elevated roundabout, then northbound again. 3 laps. Pretty flat apart from the slip roads.

I thought around 250-260 watts would be about right, and I wanted to try to keep my heart rate under 160bpm, at least for the first half anyway. At the Icknield 100 mile time trial two years previously, my heart rate had averaged 160 for the 3:59, so I was aiming for similar. I was flying on the first northbound part of the course, averaging almost 26mph for just over 150bpm. Wow, I thought, if the whole thing is like this, I am going to smash 4 hours.

Going up the first slip road, I saw a flash – there was a photographer out, and then I had a decision to make. To pee going down the slip road, or not to pee? There would be nowhere else to freewheel down a hill, only on the slip roads, so I decided to go. Ohhhhh it was lovely and warm, then the wind chill kicked in and it was cold. Then it dried. Lovely.

Not looking too bad at this stage...

It quickly became obvious that southbound was a lot slower than northbound. My average speed dropped. I didn’t feel like I was flying any more. The road surface seemed to be worse, and there seemed to be a headwind. This would explain the fast, almost effortless, first northbound stretch. There was nothing for it but to get on with it and stick to the strategy – keep the heart rate under 160bpm, don’t push too hard in the early stages, and keep eating and drinking – one gel and half an energy bar per hour, and 500-700ml energy drink per hour, as I’ll do in the Ironman.

I got to the bottom turn and my average speed had dropped to a fraction under 25mph. So much for smashing 4 hours then! Looking back at the data from my ride, it was on this first tough southbound stretch that I pushed too hard, my watts were up at 280, which is too high. I should have reined myself in a bit, and I paid for overcooking it slightly early in the event with an agonising final 20 miles.

I turned and headed northbound again, after a couple of miles I passed the turn for the finish. It would still be well over 2 hours before I could make this turn. It was an extremely fast 15 miles northbound, averaging over 27mph. By this stage, some of the faster riders who had started later than me were starting to come past me at incredible speeds.

Drafting or slipstreaming in a time trial is against the rules, but even if I’d wanted to cheat (which I didn’t, I wanted an honest 100), these guys were going too fast to get into their slipstream. I later learned that the winner did 3:22, averaging almost 30mph for the entire ride. Amazing, I couldn’t even contemplate that. When I was on the fastest stretch of road, going at my maximum speed, I was doing 30mph. These fast guys averaged that for the whole 100.

I got to half distance in 1:57:48. This was almost 6 minutes faster than the standalone 50 mile TT I had done in Essex just 4 weeks previously (although on a much tougher course). So I was looking good to break 4 hours. I felt reasonable. It seemed I had dodged a massive bullet (or bullets, of coughs, sneezes and germs launched repeatedly my way at work). I got to the top turn again. I needed a pee again. I freewheeled down the slip road and let loose. Ahhhhhh.




Then it was 16 miles of nightmare along the tougher southbound section. I rattled over the poor road surface at the northernmost part of the course, I got down low to minimise the headwind resistance, and I pedalled and pedalled. My average speed dropped again, but it had “only” dropped to 25.1mph by the time I reached the bottom turn. I saw another flash at the bottom turn, then it was back northbound.

Looking less OK now...

As I passed the finish line turn-off, I was then on my final lap. One quick northbound section, one horrible southbound section, and a final few miles to the end. That was all. I had to keep it together. I didn’t just want to break 4 hours. I wanted to break 3:59 and set a new PB. The wind must have been gradually strengthening, because on this third and final northbound section, I hit my fastest speeds. For one 5-mile stretch I averaged over 29mph(!) for “only” 258 watts.

But this “only” 258 watts was a sign of things to come, because my power was gradually starting to fade and I was paying for those stints at 280 watts earlier in the event. But the tailwind masked the fading, and my speed was high. I had given every marshal a shout of thanks up to this point, but now I was going so hard, I was concentrating and focusing and giving everything to maintain my pace, so the marshals were just a blur. Everything was a bit of a blur.

At the final turn, I had one last pee and I worked out that I “only” had to average 23mph for the final 20 miles to get under 4 hours. It was going to be touch and go. I knew I was fading. Not spectacularly, but my legs just couldn’t sustain 260 watts any more, when previously it would have been no problem. For the final four 5-mile stretches, my power went from 257 to 252 to 244 to 234 watts. It was agony. I started to feel terrible. Everything was hurting. My left arm especially was in agony, I couldn’t lift it off the elbow pad. My legs just wanted to stop. I was working really hard, chasing a goal. Another sub-4. A 3:58, or better…

It was tough, tough going. Some more fast guys came past. Wow. They were like motorbikes flying past. But I’m not an out-and-out cyclist or time-triallist. I’m a triathlete. I wonder how much faster I could be if I devoted myself solely to cycling. But then I tell myself not to wonder, because I am a triathlete. Standalone swimming is compromised, standalone cycling is compromised, and standalone running is compromised, for the benefit of the bigger "whole triathlon" picture.

My energy levels were dropping, so I had a gel. Then, shortly after, I had another. Then another. Anything to give me an extra kick. These gels came at a cost though, and I started to do pukey burps. Tunnel vision kicked in. This was grim. 90 miles down, 10 to go. So much done, so little to do, but the little remaining was seeming to take forever. The previous 90 miles count for nothing unless you keep this together. Keep pushing.

My average speed dropped down to 25.1mph. I knew the final turn would push that further down, as you have to slow down for the turn. I hoped I’d have the legs to ride at over 25mph on the final few northbound miles to the turn-off for the finish. As I tried to accelerate down the last slip road, I was at 25.0mph average. I had just a few miles to go. I needed to push hard.

I gave it everything. I was only averaging in 230-240 watts but it felt like about 400 watts. I was churning and gurning and grunting and gritting my teeth. My average went to 25.1mph. I would break 4 hours. But I didn’t ease off. I wanted every last second. I wanted under 3:59. My Garmin beeped for 100 miles but I was still on the dual carriageway.

Then the final turn came, and I was an incoherent, uncoordinated mess. It was a very tight turn and I don’t know how I got round it without crashing. I ran wide away to the opposite side of the road on the exit of the turn. I’m glad there was no traffic. I passed the finish line. I’d emptied the tank. My reward was 3:58. When my Garmin beeped for 100 miles, it had taken 3:58:21, and my official finish time was 3:58:43. A minute or so quicker than 2014, when I’d been really, really pleased, and excited for what I thought it meant I could do in the Ironman bike.

At the finish line, tank emptied

But at this moment, I didn’t have the strength to be pleased. I felt awful. It was a few miles to spin back to the event headquarters, and almost immediately after finishing, I was shivering, pretty hard. I could barely control the bike. Everything, and I mean everything, was in agony. My arms, shoulders, neck, my left arm in particular, my arse, my legs, my feet. I was grunting and groaning. I was ruined.
 

I doubt that feeling rough earlier in the week helped my time trial performance much, but to be honest, there was never a point in the race where I felt like I was directly affected. Again, I don’t think it helped, but I don’t think I felt terrible at the end because I had felt rough earlier in the week. I just felt terrible because I had gone so hard. Quite a big part of me was thinking, “Why do I do this, I never want to do this again and feel like this again…”

As I spun very slowly to the race headquarters, and gradually recovered, I got chatting to a few people. One guy had done a 3:59. But the previous week, he had done a 12-hour time trial, covering 270 miles. Work that out… over 22mph, for 12 hours, without stopping. I can’t imagine doing that. I got back to the village hall, and the car was still there. I knew I needed to get some warm clothes on quickly, so that was the first thing I did. I wanted to go for a run, but I first needed to get the car key out from the aero box because I needed to lock my bike in the car if I was going to run. Never mind the car being stolen, I can’t have the bike being nicked! It’s probably worth more than the car anyway… And to be honest, I didn’t have it in me to go for a run straight away anyway.

I tried everything to open the box, and it wouldn’t open. I turned the bike upside down and shook it, to no avail. I got a guy to help. Nothing would work. I was wondering what on earth I was going to do. Then, after about 15 minutes, finally, alleluia, it opened. I got the key out, put the bike in the car, locked it, and went for a run. 20 minutes at Ironman pace. It wasn’t bad. I warmed up. The sun was out. I finished my run, and ate some food I’d brought – chicken sandwiches, a banana, an apple, some nuts and some coconut juice. It disappeared quickly and then I went into the village hall to look at the results. There it was, 3:58:42. Nice. But as decent as I might have thought it was (and a sub-4 hour 100 mile ride certainly isn’t bad), there were some seriously quick times on the results board. Times in the 3:20s, 3:30s and 3:40s. Very fast.

I spotted a marshal I’d seen out on the course, an older guy with a distinctive cycling top on. I went and said thanks, and got chatting. It turned out he was actually a cycling journalist, and he was really into his cycling, asking me who I was, and how I’d done, and how things had gone out on the course, making notes in his notebook as we chatted, as if I was someone noteworthy – I guess it wouldn’t have mattered if I’d done 3:19 or 4:30 or 6:15, he’d have had the same interest and enthusiasm. What a man, with cycling in his blood.

Then it was time to head home. I was still too wrecked and too preoccupied with the now-imminent trip to Italy to be pleased with my result, and maybe also experience has taught me that there are no guarantees in Ironman racing. I wondered about Italy. I really didn’t want to go, but I couldn’t not go. Talk about a tricky situation.

I got back and got unpacked, left the car back, washed everything, and had a think. I felt absolutely shattered, and what I really needed were a few 12-hour sleeps and a few easy, relaxed, stress-free days. But going to Italy would mean getting up at 5:30am the next morning. Although I felt shattered, I didn’t feel ill. I really had dodged a few bullets, with sick colleagues, with feeling rough during the week, with what genuinely was an amazingly quick recovery before the time trial, and with seemingly getting through the time trial without making things worse.

But, forget about dodging bullets, going to Italy would be like walking into the path of an oncoming express train… Manky aeroplanes and taxis. Air conditioning. Unusual food. Coughing and spluttering colleagues. Packed meeting rooms. I’d be asking for it. I know what going to Italy for work is like, I’ve done it often enough times. I always end up feeling drained, rough, depleted and ill. I really didn’t want to go. Would anyone else have called in sick in a similar situation…?

In the end, my dedicated professionalism meant that there was no decision really, I had to go. I wouldn’t miss any training as I would be resting and recovering from the efforts of the 100. I could have hot baths in the hotel, and get some hot sunshine on my skin. I wouldn’t have to spend two-and-a-half hours each day commuting, so this would mean I could get to bed earlier. I could bring “mitigating foods”… I’d have to make the best of it.

My data from the 100 miler is as follows:

0-5 miles: 11:40, 25.7mph, 150bpm, 89rpm, 266W
5-10 miles: 11:39, 25.7mph, 152bpm, 89rpm, 260W
10-15 miles: 12:12, 24.6mph, 153bpm, 92rpm, 266W
15-20 miles: 11:31, 26.1mph, 153bpm, 91rpm, 271W
20-25 miles: 13:03, 23.0mph, 155bpm, 91rpm, 276W
25-30 miles: 12:22, 24.3mph, 157bpm, 93rpm, 280W
30-35 miles: 11:13, 26.8mph, 158bpm, 91rpm, 280W
35-40 miles: 10:51, 27.7mph, 157bpm, 93rpm, 274W
40-45 miles: 10:59, 27.3mph, 156bpm, 92rpm, 270W
45-50 miles: 12:18, 24.4mph, 155bpm, 93rpm, 261W
50-55 miles: 12:32, 23.9mph, 156bpm, 90rpm, 273W
55-60 miles: 12:45, 23.5mph, 157bpm, 90rpm, 270W
60-65 miles: 12:38, 23.7mph, 156bpm, 94rpm, 259W
65-70 miles: 11:07, 27.0mph, 160bpm, 92rpm, 268W
70-75 miles: 10:18, 29.1mph, 159bpm, 93rpm, 258W
75-80 miles: 11:27, 26.2mph, 159bpm, 93rpm, 250W
80-85 miles: 11:54, 25.2mph, 161bpm, 93rpm, 257W
85-90 miles: 12:46, 23.5mph, 162bpm, 91rpm, 252W
90-95 miles: 13:29, 22.3mph, 162bpm, 90rpm, 244W
95-100 miles: 11:38, 25.8mph, 160bpm, 95rpm, 234W
Last wee bit: 00:22, 25.0mph, 167bpm, 95rpm, 262W

0-25 miles – 60:05
25-50 miles – 57:43
50-75 miles – 59:20
75-100 miles – 61:14
Last wee bit – 00:22  

Fastest 10 miles: 21:25
Fastest 25 miles: 57:24
Fastest 50 miles: 1:56:38

Although I've said I shouldn't wonder, I do sometimes wonder how much faster I could be on a bike if I had limitless funds, resources and time to play with. Yes I have a nice bike, and it has been professionally fitted, but there's a lot more I could do: I could pay for wind tunnel testing, and get a bike fit done when in the wind tunnel, while simultaneously analysing power output, heart rate, comfort and aerodynamics. I could get cutting-edge drag-resistant clothing. I could get a helmet that optimises aerodynamics based on my body position. I could get a disc wheel, and a lighter, stiffer, more aerodynamic bike. Hiring a coach would probably help too. As would regular sports massage.




There is almost literally no limit to what you can do, but it's diminishing returns, and you reach the point where each incremental gain costs another fortune. You can literally buy speed. And for that reason, I don't think the Ironman (and cycling) playing field is entirely level at amateur level (you assume that professionals have access to the same level of equipment, technology and resources).




And then, after all that, there's the question of doping. I'm sure that clean professionals wonder if their competitors are doping, and I'm also fairly sure that amateur sport (particularly amateur endurance sport) isn't 100% clean either. And more recently there have been cases of "mechanical doping" - motors hidden inside bike frames. But doping (medical or mechanical) is another topic entirely.

Key sentence:
"All riders have the right to compete in cycling competitions
knowing that they, and their competitors, are clean."
I'd extend that to "all sportspersons, professional or amateur".

For me, although I don't have super top-end gear and have drawn lines on what I spend money on, I believe I have a bike and equipment that allow me to have no excuses. And I certainly know I train and compete clean.

Training done around the ECCA 100 mile time trial was as follows:

Mon 13 June: Rest
Tue 14 June: 45 minute turbo (8 x 1 minute >400 watts)
Wed 15 June: 2:20 run (18.25 miles, 7:40/mile, 135bpm)
Thu 16 June: Rest
Fri 17 June: Swim 1k
Sat 18 June: Rest
Sun 19 June: Bike 110 miles (100 mile TT in 3:58:43, 263/266W A/NP, 157bpm, 92rpm), 20 minute run

Totals: Swim 1km, Bike 125 miles, Run 21 miles