Post 142 - A blast watching Ironman Wales

And so to Tenby for Ironman Wales. Not to compete, as in the previous three years, but to watch my good friend Matt take on his first Ironman, at possibly the most difficult Iron-distance racing venue in the world. Hills, hills, and more hills. Possible (likely?) wind and rain. 140.6 miles. For a 65kg whippet, the hills would be tough enough. Matt is strong and powerful but he’d be the first to admit that he’s not a 65kg whippet, so he couldn’t have picked a tougher course on which to make his Ironman debut.

I had been looking forward to spectating at Ironman Wales for a long time, and although part of me wished I was doing it again this year, another big part of me was very glad I wasn’t – it’s such a tough day out. A cold, rough jellyfish-infested sea swim isn’t especially appealing, and neither is 112 miles on a bike going up and down the steepest horrors that Pembrokeshire has to offer. The hilly marathon at the end doesn’t appeal either. But, it’s a hell of a day, with absolutely awesome support all around the entire course.

On Friday morning, just before setting off for Wales, I had two job offers on the table. One in Edinburgh and one in Cork. I accepted the job in Edinburgh and I’ll start in Scotland in late October. Bye bye London, finally. It has all come to a natural end, as my housemates are selling up the house and moving to Ireland before Christmas.

Then, job accepted, my brother and I loaded bikes into his car and we set off for Tenby at around midday. Matt had booked a 4-bed dorm in a youth hostel in Manorbier, 10-15 miles beyond Tenby. We thought that at worst we would be there by 6pm. But the traffic was horrific. It seems that horrific traffic is the norm for south England. We travelled less than 100 miles in over 4 hours (I can cycle 100 miles faster than that), and by the time we had reached Cardiff, still with over 2 hours left to travel, it was 9pm and we bailed out. We were knackered and not in great moods and it wouldn’t have been fair to have arrived at the youth hostel at 11pm, as Matt would have wanted to be sleeping. We went to a Travelodge somewhere near Cardiff. I’m so happy that in a few more weeks when I go to Scotland, I won’t have to deal with such ridiculous traffic again.

I had a terrible night in the Travelodge. I couldn't sleep. I just felt a bit awful. My body was still a wreck after Ironman Weymouth, and I hadn’t been eating well either. I think between the Sunday at Weymouth and the Tuesday evening after Weymouth, I ate about 6 burgers. I barely had any sleep, and then I had to fly off to Cork on the Wednesday for a job interview. This meant getting up at 4am, and with all the travel and poor eating and lack of sleep and general absolute knackered-ness, I wasn’t feeling great at all.

But, as if by some sort of miracle, I was feeling massively better the next morning, and we set off for Tenby and Manorbier. It was to be a good weekend weather-wise. A big, big plus. I can’t imagine Ironman Wales would be much fun in lashing rain. We arrived, and while I unloaded the car and squeezed everything into the fairly small 4-bed dorm, my brother fell asleep on a picnic table in the sun. He has the (dubious) honour of being maybe the only person who has spectated at all 3 UK-based Ironman races in 2016...

To be fair, it is a tough and thankless task to be a driver/spectator at Ironman events

Matt and Elisa had already been to registration the previous day. So after we arrived, Matt spent a bit of time getting his swim, bike and run gear together, and then we headed off for Tenby so that he could rack his bike and bags in transition. Tenby was packed. The town was absolutely buzzing. Matt got sorted at transition, we grabbed a bite to eat, we went into the expo tent (the IronTat tent – all amount of expensive Ironman branded merchandise was on sale). But sometimes the best things in life are free – there was a stall in the tent giving out A3-sized bits of cardboard and providing use of marker pens so that little kids could write “Go Daddy” or “Go Mummy” messages of support. I drew a very quick “IronMatt” artwork. And apparently it is now framed and on Matt and Elisa’s wall. Must bill them £200 or so…

Tenby is great

Swim course, with tide out

While we were in Tenby, Neil appeared from Southampton, so the weekend group of 5 was complete – Matt, Elisa, Neil, Brian and myself. We didn’t really dwell too long in Tenby. On the way back to the cars we saw that the traffic wardens had been out in force. Any car with a wheel out of place, or not in a proper parking spot, had a parking ticket. Boo. Back at Manorbier, we went for a run along the coast. Pictures paint a thousand words. It was awesome.

  

A busy room

Then we had dinner. Matt had cooked in the hostel – salad, pasta, tuna and risotto – to call it “dinner” actually doesn’t do it justice – it was a banquet. Then it was early to bed, for the 4am alarm on race day.

Next morning, we drove to Tenby in the dark, and got a parking space in town. We made sure to pay and display, not giving the traffic warden pirates any opportunity to fleece us. Matt made his final preparations in transition and got into his wetsuit. “Good luck Matt,” and then we left him in the long queue of athletes heading down to the north beach. We all hot-footed it to the clifftop, hoping to secure a good spot to view the swim.

We ended up with a great spot. Conditions were good. The sea was flat. I was a bit jealous, having had very rough conditions for all three of my Wales swims. The Wales swim is absolutely awesome. If you are down on the beach, the cliffs of Tenby, topped by multi-storey hotels and guesthouses, loom up immediately behind the beach, and with thousands of people all lining every possible vantage point, and with the sun rising over the horizon and the high tide rendering the Goskar rock an island and a natural swim entry and exit point, it’s some sight. It’s like swimming in the Colosseum. Someone had scaled the Goskar rock at low tide, and planted an Ironman Wales flag on top, like something you’d see on the moon. As the athletes were walking down to the beach I caught sight of Matt beside the 1:05 board, with a determined look on his face. 

They all lined up on the beach, and just after 7am, the race was on. They all filed into the water in a rolling start. I guessed Matt would be close to the front, so he’d be swimming within a few minutes. But it took about 20 minutes to get everyone in, by which time the pros were just finishing their first lap. The Tenby lifeboat made an appearance, launching from the lifeboat station ramp and arcing across the far side of the bay with engines on full power, creating a dramatic wake behind the swim course triangle. What a sight.

When the lead age-groupers were halfway through their second lap of the two-lap swim, we headed for the run up to transition. It’s about a kilometre to run from the beach, up the steep zig-zag path, and through the town to transition. It’s an awesome run, and absolutely packed with people. First I saw Jamie (who I beat in the sprint finish in the Bristol triathlon earlier in the year) and I gave him a shout. We’ve been in regular contact since Bristol and I gave him as much info as I could about Wales and the course. Later in the day I found out that he won his age group and will be going to Kona in October 2017. Well done…

Matt’s a good swimmer and when he passed us looking pretty good. We realised he must have swam pretty close to sub-60. Good going. Then we hot-footed it to the road that the bike course follows out of Tenby. There was a designated crossing point that we needed to cross to get to the cars. Getting across was a nightmare. The marshal was showing no discretion. She was not letting anyone cross while there were any bikes approaching in the line of sight. The trouble was, the line of sight stretched back well over 100m and I thought we would never get across. After a good few minutes, there was finally a gap and we legged it across the road. Not long after, Matt zoomed past on his bike. One leg of the triathlon down, but at least another 12 hours to go…

We then planned to drive back to Manorbier, pick up our bikes, and head out on the bike course to do some supporting. But the route to Manorbier was part of the bike course and the outbound road was closed to traffic, so we had to go the scenic route and a 10-mile journey became an hour-long, 20-30 mile drive, involving crossing the bike course where again we were held for ages by a marshal until it was safe.

Anyway, we got back to Manorbier, we ate a massive second breakfast, and we got ready to head off on the bikes. I had my own bike, Elisa had hers, Neil had his, and I had borrowed a bike from my housemate for my brother to use. I produced a pair of bib cycling shorts (they look a bit like a Borat mankini) and asked my brother if he’d like to borrow them. Cue a look of horror. He decided he wouldn’t be cycling with us, but he would drive to the same spots that we were planning on going to.

So we set off on the bikes for Carew Castle, about an hour away at a leisurely pace. We had to cross the bike course, where we were held by a marshal until the road was clear. “Where are you off to?” she asked. “We are off to Ca-REW Castle…” “No, no, no, it’s CA-rew!” she reprimanded. “And where are you staying…?” “Ermmm, just down the road in Manor-BIER…” “No, no, no, you are not locals! It’s MANor-bier!” Neil spent the next hour on the bike hooting “Ca-ROOOOO, Ca-ROOOOO!”

I was still very tired and my legs were still sore after Ironman Weymouth, and so I could barely cycle up the hills. We made it to Carew and instead of watching at the corner by the pubs, which was busy with spectators, and where it’s difficult for supporters and competitors to acknowledge one another, I suggested that we cross over the inlet to the hill on the far side. It was a good call as we found a perfect spot some way up the hill. We could watch the competitors approaching the bottom of the hill at speed, and then as the hill’s gradient started to bite, their speed decreased until they reached us at slow speed.

Matt had given us estimates of when he thought he would be at various points on the course. His ETA at Carew was sometime between 11am and 12pm. We had a little bet on what time we thought he’d arrive. Whoever was furthest away would have to buy ice cream. He came past us not long after 11am, looking very comfortable and strong. But he knew well, as did I, that the day was going to get a lot tougher as the hills get worse the further into the bike course you go. Elisa lost the bet. Ice cream on her later in the day…!

Look closely...

Going up a steep Pembrokeshire hill...

In the early stages of the Ironman bike...

On the big ring!
Monstering it...

We planned to go to Saundersfoot next, maybe another easy hour away. The hill up out of Saundersfoot is incredible. Crowds five deep, all screaming and ringing bells and fist pumping. It’s like a mountaintop finale at the Tour de France. The first year I did it, I responded to the crowd and went mad up the hill, the harder I went the more they roared, and I got to the top and saw my heart rate was nearly 180bpm and I told myself what an idiot I was for going so hard. I learned my lesson, and the following year I cruised up, waving and smiling. Matt is smart, I knew he would pace the hills. I was looking forward to seeing Saundersfoot as a spectator.

We arrived into town beyond the top of the famous hill, and quickly realised that the crowds were so dense that we’d have trouble getting to the bottom of the hill. This year they had actually barriered off the main part of the hill up out of town, I guess to ensure that athletes had space to ride. We were hungry by now, but there would be no food bought or consumed in Saundersfoot as it would take too long to fight through the crowds and get to the shops at the bottom of the hill. And anyway, we wanted to be somewhere where the crowds were a bit more sparse, so Matt could actually see and hear us. 

We positioned ourselves just beyond a girl who was holding a big placard saying “Touch for power”, and just beyond a guy who was holding a big placard saying “Don’t be shit!” It was funny watching the reactions. Before reaching these two placards, competitors had to climb the hill, and most athletes who rounded the corner at the top of the hill, about 200m below where we were, had amazed looks on their faces thanks to the noise and the support. Then they saw the placards. Some did indeed smile and touch for power. Some did indeed laugh at the “don’t be shit” placard. Some were just too dazed to notice. Matt appeared soon after, still looking strong and looking comfortable. It’s always good to see your supporters out on the course, and you could tell that he got a good boost from seeing us. 

Then we had to make a move back to Carew to see him for the final time on the bike, and to avail of some pub grub. So we got back on the bikes and headed westwards again. In Carew, we went to the same position as before, up the hill beyond the corner.

By now we had been on the go for a good while, we hadn’t eaten, and we were maybe starting to get a bit lightheaded as a result. So we did some serious supporting. We had a cowbell. It did some serious ringing. “Dilly ding dilly dong!” “EAT that energy gel!” “DRINK that drink!” “RIDE that hill!” “PUSH those pedals!” “ALLEZ ALLEZ!” “Go on Irish boy, you are doing your country proud!” “SPIT that spit!” “FIRE that snot rocket!” Etc etc, all while clapping and cheering. It was a bit of a laugh, for us and for the riders.

It's tough being a spectator 

Matt appeared, and although he still wasn’t looking bad, he was looking less good that previously. Understandably so, he had just swam 2.4 miles and cycled 80 miles. But he was still smiling. We ran beside him for a bit. “How are you feeling Matt?” “Mutter mumble stung by a bee….” “What?!” He looked OK though and I didn’t see evidence of anything to cause concern, so all we could do was to tell him to keep going and we’d see him on the run.

Then we had a bit of spare time – we weren’t in an urgent hurry to get to the next spectating point by a certain time. Matt still had a couple of hours before he would be on the run, and he’d be running for at least four and a half hours. So it was very definitely time for food. Drawn by the smell of barbecue, we went to the pub on the corner. They were serving something called an “Ironman burger.” Yes please. The Ironman burger consisted of two burgers, bacon and pineapple. Yes pineapple. I’ve never had pineapple in a burger before. It was well worth it, but let’s just say it was “juicy” (i.e. it squirted and splurted all over me).

Filthy

Ironman Wales flags everywhere

Suitably burgered up and re-energised, we went off for a lap of the grounds of Carew Castle. It was situated on a long tidal inlet. Being a tourist for a change was nice, and it was a very scenic part of the world to be a tourist in.

We headed back to Manorbier on the bikes. We knew we’d have to ride back up a hill that had a 17% gradient, and which I had nonchalantly passed off as being easy and nothing like 17%. Ha. That came back and bit me as I struggled up the hill in my lowest gear while Neil (on a bloody fixie!) and Elisa left me eating dust and gasping up the hill. Thankfully my burger didn’t re-appear and we got back to Manorbier. We dropped the bikes off and headed into Tenby.

I was worried about getting parked as the streets were lined with parked cars, many of which had parking tickets. We did a couple of laps of one car park, and then a couple of laps of another car park, resorting to asking random people if they were going to be vacating a space any time soon. We were just about to give up and drive back out the road to Manorbier, to try to park out of town, when I had the following conversation with a random couple:

“Are you leaving that space?” “No sorry…” “How much do I need to pay you to leave that space? Ha ha…” “Sorry, we’re not leaving…” “Oh but I suppose we could leave and get a sandwich…” “No darling we are not leaving…” “Sandwiches are nice…” “We’ve bene trying to find a space for an hour!” “Oh darling, these poor people can’t get parked, we could just go and give them this space…” (My head nods frantically). “Oh OK then…” “Great, thank you so much, have a lovely day!”

So we got parked. A miracle. We headed for the centre of Tenby. It was packed. The atmosphere was amazing. There’s surely nowhere else in the world that goes as crazy for a specific race or a specific day. Athletes were still finishing their bike rides. The pros had almost finished their marathons. Matt would be out on his first of four laps in the marathon. We’d see him shortly in town.

I knew that he would have no problems with the swim. And he swam 58 minutes. That’s not just “no problem”, that’s excellent. I knew he’d get around the bike. Based on his Wimbleball half-ironman bike split (which is also hilly), I thought he would bike around 8 hours. But he smashed the bike, and did 7:19.  

But the run… The Ironman run is so tough. His standalone marathon PB is just under 4 hours. So I didn’t think he’d crack 5 hours in the Ironman marathon. Time would tell. We saw him after one lap, running through town. He looked good and was moving well. But still 3 laps to go. It doesn’t matter that you’ve done 2.4 miles in the water, and 112 miles on the bike, and 6 miles on the run. All that matters is what you’ve still to do, and he still had 3 hard hilly laps to run. Come on Matt.

We then went for ice cream. Elisa had lost the bet. My brother had gone to try to find an Irish bar showing football. So there were 3 of us for ice cream. We all got a bit of a shock when 3 ice creams cost nearly £15. Poor Elisa. And poor Neil who had to subsidise, as Elisa didn’t have enough cash on her. What a rip off. But, my first ice cream of 2016 was very nice. I was eating like a champion. Burgers and ice cream…

Then we went to the junction where the athletes make three passes in the space of around 15 minutes. It's a scenic spot overlooking the bay, and busy with spectators, with shops close by. A good area to watch. And if you want, you can walk for 5 minutes down to a quieter out-and-back section where there are fewer supporters. We decided we’d stay around town for the rest of the marathon and not walk up the hill out of town. It’s a long, long, mentally torturous drag up out of Tenby to the turning point at the top of the hill, maybe 3 miles from town. Up there, you pick up a coloured armband for each lap you’ve done. Up there, there are port-a-loos. Up there, there are aid stations. Up there, there is unseen pain. Up there, anything can happen.

By now Matt had done two laps of the marathon. To be honest, I was surprised by how good he looked at this point. He was moving very well. In terms of the overall race time and distance, he was nearly done. But the toughest 13 miles were still ahead. The “death zone”. This is where things get ugly. Vomiting, shitting, pissing, walking, limping, collapsing, fighting your demons, going into a dark, dark place, tunnel vision, wanting to quit, anger, irrational abnormal thinking, little voices in your head, and even DNF-ing/quitting/abandoning. Any or all of these things could happen. Come on Matt. 13 more miles.

Still looking OK

While he was no doubt gritting his teeth and fighting up that damned hill for the third time, an ambulance was trying to get through the narrow, barriered part of the course. It just wasn’t wide enough and athletes were having to stop. Neil and I jumped the barriers to try to move them and widen the gap, while also trying to warn and direct athletes around the ambulance. It was a bit of a drama because at all costs you don’t want to disrupt athletes but at the same time, if an ambulance has to pass through… The ambulance was intending to go up the road that led to transition, but this had by now been barriered down the middle so athletes could run in both ways. The race would have been badly affected if the ambulance had gone up here. In the end a race official made a decision to send the ambulance along the clifftop road which was a bit wider, so a number of spectators-turned-helpers moved the barriers and shouted at athletes to warn them.

We were again getting hungry by this time, so my brother (who had re-joined us) volunteered to go to the shop. “Buy me something healthy” I told him. He came back with a bag of Haribo sweets. Yeah, great, perfect, thanks. Matt passed us having completed 3 laps. He had 10km to go. Maybe another hour. The daylight was just starting to fade. He was finally starting to look like he was finding it tough. That look in the face. I’ve seen it in photos of myself in the Ironman “death zone”. The completely knackered look, which betrays pain of every kind, not just sore legs, but sore insides, and a horrible fatigue that only long-course endurance athletes will know. It’s the look that says “I just want to be done with this, and I could be done with this right now, I could just stop, but I am damned if I am stopping, the only way through this is to keep going and get to the finish line come hell or high water…”

No ability to smile at this stage

But in spite of this look, Matt was still moving amazingly well. Visually, his pace had not dropped. Bloody hell, if he maintained his pace he could break 13:30. I would never ever have thought he would even get anywhere close to breaking 14 hours. I’d have said that 14:30 would have been an amazing time for him. And 14:30 would genuinely have been an amazing time. And here he was with 10km left to run, absolutely smashing it. Impressive to watch. His blog is on http://tri4pies.blogspot.co.uk and he confessed to feeling a bit emotional on the run. I can empathise with that, but I didn’t think I’d feel so emotional as a spectator…

I remember running alongside him for a few steps as he headed out of town for his final lap, telling him “Dig so deep…” I knew he would, but like I said, anything can happen in the latter stages of an Ironman marathon, and sometimes you don’t have a lot of control over what might happen… I hoped he would finish strong. He disappeared out of town. We headed for the finish area. It was packed. What an atmosphere. I thought this was my last year doing Ironman triathlons. But… Tenby… Ironman Wales… Hmmm… Shut up voices…

It was difficult to get a good space at the finish area as it was so busy, and we ended up splitting up. Neil and Elisa were situated just before the finish, while Brian and I went down to the grandstand to see if there would be any chance of getting a spot. He ended up climbing a pillar and getting in. I couldn’t have climbed a pillar in my state. So I headed on down to just past the finish, and because I am tall, I had a great view. But unfortunately (and I am not making this up) my phone had 1% battery left and I was literally praying it wouldn’t die before I could photograph Matt at the finish. So I didn’t dare try to text or call the others. I put it on aeroplane mode and hoped for the best.

I watched people cross the finish line and become an Ironman (or an IronLady, it always seems weird to me that females are also referred to as “Ironman”), I watched them re-unite with their supporters/families, I watched them get their medals, it was brilliant. And then Matt appeared. “Matt O’Donnell you are an Ironman” yelled the announcer over the music, crowds cheering, Matt had absolutely nailed his day and finished in 13:26, he had held it together for the last lap. What an effort. My phone played ball and I got a few photos before it died. Then the others appeared to congratulate him. I wasn’t surprised to hear that Matt had spent most of the last lap trying not to puke… 

Just a pity that an iPhone 4s camera isn't good enough to take very good photos

in poor light, but at least my 1% remaining battery allowed me to take them at all

I was genuinely very impressed with the whole performance, and with the fact that his run splits did not fall away in the slightest. He had run 4:46, he had paced it really well, he had passed a pile of people on the run (the sign of a well-executed race) and he had gritted it out and hung tough. Matt headed for the athlete-only area to get some food, drink, a finisher’s t-shirt and a massage while we waited around. Neil had to head off back to Southampton as he was working the next day… crazy.

There had been a lot of talk about the famous “pizza place” in Tenby – when I was competing in Tenby, my supporters had been to the “pizza place” on the corner – apparently it’s the best pizza place in the world, and I was really keen to go there and try it. Matt was also really keen.

It was getting late. But the pizza place was still open. And… they were no longer serving. I pleaded and begged. But no. There would be no amazing pizza or calzone. We went next door to an inferior pizza place and had inferior pizza instead. Boo. By the time we were done, there were still people running/jogging/shuffling/walking/moving towards the finish line, and any remaining athletes on the course would have been on the go for over 16 hours. Respect.

We decided that rather than come back in the morning to pick up Matt’s bike and bags from transition, we would try to get four people and one bike into the car and bring everything back to Manorbier that evening. It was a very tight squeeze but we managed it and made it back to Manorbier. I wasted no time in going to sleep, and slept great.

The next morning I was looking forward to a big dirty fry-up in Tenby, but my brother was keen to get away early, which I suppose (grudgingly) was a good call, as it had taken us 11 hours over 2 days to drive from London to Tenby. I was sorry to leave Manorbier and Tenby and Pembrokeshire, I’d have loved to have stayed a good few more days and explored. Maybe a future holiday destination? Kayaking, swimming, cycling, running, eating, drinking, beach-ing, pizza place-ing etc. Ironman-ing…?

But that’s not a note to finish on. This weekend was Matt’s weekend. If you are spectating at an Ironman, you exist for the weekend for that person and to help them as much as possible and go to bed at 8pm because it’s what they need, and get up at 4am because it’s what they need, and you get out onto as many parts of the course as you can to see and support. Your enjoyment of the weekend is secondary. Although fortunately I enjoy all this! So the note here to finish on is well done IronMatt…