Well, I thought this blog was done, and I thought my
triathlon career was done. Seems not… the dinosaur is attempting a resurrection…
This time around, I am going to keep the blog much shorter
(ha – reading back over what I’ve written, this isn’t a very short post, but
future posts will be!) This post will be a quick outline of what has happened
to date since Ironman Weymouth in September 2016.
I wasn’t a fan of living in London, to put it mildly. So I
finally moved away. It wasn’t even a decision – my housemates sold up and I
couldn’t possibly have lived anywhere else in London after nearly 3 great years
living in their house. They moved to south-west Cork. Also, my work in London
came to a fairly natural end, the monster project I was working on for over 4
years was winding down and the downsizing meant the office moved to south-west
London, which meant my commute was taking nearly 2 hours each way. I’d got my
chartership qualification, I’d saved a few pounds. It was time to go.
I had job offers from Loughborough, Cork, and Edinburgh, and
I chose Edinburgh. I’d lived and worked in Scotland when I was 18 for a year
and spent most of my university holidays back working in Scotland. My running
career took off in Scotland and I was a regular on the scene in 2004-200. My
high point was probably running 71:39 in the Inverness half marathon in 2006
when I was 21. 18 months previous to that, I was running 86 minutes for a half,
never thinking I could run 71. I hoped that now, in my early 30s, my PB days
weren’t behind me.
I took a bit of a pay cut when leaving London, but they
quality of life is hugely better. My commute takes 10 minutes to drive or 20 to
cycle. Work is very flexible. Edinburgh is nice. You can walk everywhere. It’s
not overcrowded. The air isn’t polluted like London. Scotland is a giant
playground and it’s all on my doorstep.
I also said I was done with triathlon when I left London, so
I sold my bike and all the gear to a really good Irish guy, we’ve become
friends. I said to myself that I’d go to Edinburgh and get back into running,
and try to reach the levels I’d been at over a decade ago. And that’s what I
did. Or tried to do.
I bought a car before going to Edinburgh. What a nightmare
that turned out to be (the searching, test driving and the actual owning). I
did the best due diligence I could on the one I eventually bought, it seemed a
genuine buy, but within 2 weeks the gearbox (it was automatic) had chewed
itself to pieces. A brilliant garage in Edinburgh (Lochrin Autos, I will be
forever grateful) looked after me really well. They said it would be 5 grand to
fix it, and asked where I’d got the car. It turned out that because it had
happened so soon, and because I had paid part of it on my credit card, I had
rights – I could force the seller to pay for a repair (he didn’t want to pay 5
grand and said his mate next door could do it for 1 or 2 grand – I obviously said
no thanks to this), or I could get a full refund. I cut my losses and after a
lot of arguing, and me and the garage repeatedly saying “you’re a dealer, you
must know the law”, I got my refund.
Then it was back to square one, searching pretty much all
over the UK and Ireland to find a cheap, low mileage, good-condition, automatic
estate car with cruise control. Easier said than done, I had to compromise a
bit. And all the while trying to buy a flat, apartment, house, something. And
all the while living in a house where I really didn’t want to be (thinking I’d
only be there a month or two before I bought somewhere). It took 7 months to
finally buy somewhere and the whole process was so time-consuming and such a
pain. I should be grateful I can afford somewhere at all though. And all the
while adjusting to a new job, new routines, new city, a new life really.
I joined Edinburgh Athletic Club as soon as I moved to
Edinburgh in November 2016, and that’s what kept me going through the cold,
dark winter of 2016-17 of flat hunting and car hunting and chasing my tail. So
I started back at “full-time” running. The fitness gradually came back.
I ran a course PB at the Greencastle 5 mile race in December
2016 which I feel I sort of bluffed as I hadn’t been training properly for very
long. I had a decent bike ride in the Mourne Mountains that same Christmas with
the guy I sold my bike to. I subsequently found out that he has qualified to
represent Ireland at the European ITU triathlon championships. This planted a
little seed, as (without wanting to seem arrogant), I’d probably beat him in a
head-to-head race, but he put himself out there and raced, while I just sat on
a turbo trainer in London all the time and raced once a year…
I did some cross-country races, and met some old Metro
Aberdeen Running Club mates from years gone by at a few races. I did the
Scottish National Road Relays, the same course as 12-odd years ago. I started
to feel old, seeing new faces come through. I was once the new face. It’s a
strange feeling. I started to plan and target races. One big target, since I
was 18, has been to run a 10K in under 32 minutes. Another target is to run
sub-2:36 in a marathon (i.e. faster than 6 minute mile pace). So I entered the
Aberdeen 10K in May 2017 thinking that might be a chance to try and run sub-32,
and to race back in Aberdeen again.
I trained hard. I ran the Ulster cross country in February and
ran well, picking up another team gold. I did the Scottish 10 mile race in
April 2017, and this was the first time I felt like a proper runner again. I
ran well, got a PB (my first PB for 11 years) and Edinburgh AC won team bronze.
A Scottish National medal. Brilliant. I was even old enough and wise enough to
tell one of our young guys to hold back when he started to up the pace with 4
or 5 miles to go. This made me feel really old but it was (probably) decent
advice because he faded ever so slightly in the final couple of miles – if he’d
upped it when he initially tried to, he probably would have faded more. I also
ran the Titanic 10K in Belfast, memorable for being forgetful – I’ve never ran
well there and maintained my record of rubbish runs around Belfast’s developing
docks area.
I did a 1500m track race. Which was brutal, and probably
silly. I’d never raced on a track before, nor raced a 1500m. I ran 4:20 and
coughed the whole way home. “Track cough,” my clubmates laughed, when you go so
hard and get into the depths of your lungs and pretty much set them on fire –
leads to persistent heavy coughing… The cough soon cleared but my calf didn’t
feel 100%. Not long after, I ran the Scottish 5k at the waterfront in
Edinburgh. I’d done the ParkRun in good conditions on the same course in
16-something not long before. The Scottish 5k was very, very windy and I thought
there was no way I’d run faster than 16. I ran in racing shoes (again probably
stupid as I’ve never ran in racing shoes before), I was surprised to run 15:40,
and my calf was very definitely not right afterwards.
But the big target was the Aberdeen 10K, only a couple of
weeks away. I rested for a couple of days, went back out to try to run, and
couldn’t run a step. In agony. And that was that. The diagnosis was a torn calf.
I suppose that’s one of the reasons I took up triathlon, because I get injured
a lot when I run, and I don’t tend to get injured doing triathlons (less
running, less impact, less risk).
So what to do? Analyse, sure, and the analysis led me to
berate myself for racing on the track and for wearing racing shoes. Make slow
steady progress, don’t try and blitz it. I couldn’t run Aberdeen. I might have
had a chance of sub-32. A 15:40 5k in howling wind is probably worth 15:20 on a
better day. 15:20 x 2 = 30:40 which still leaves 79 seconds to play with. But
all “what if…”
What else to do? Get back on the bike… by now the evenings
were getting brighter and warmer, I still had a hybrid bike and a road bike,
and I had the whole of Scotland on my doorstep. No riding for an hour to escape
London, no pollution, not much traffic, just hills and empty roads. So, after
moving into my brilliant flat (I must have viewed about 60 places and the one
that I ended up being lucky enough to have an offer accepted on was the best
one by miles, unthinkable in London), I got back on the bike. Thankfully, I
could cycle. But I couldn’t run. I ended up doing a few swims too. The cycling
was great. Lapping around Arthur’s Seat in Holyrood Park, getting out to the beautiful
Scottish Borders, doing the “Wall of Talla” loop. All great stuff.
Steepest thing I've ever cycled up, it's worse than it looks
Airs of inevitability got heavier when Ironman announced a
half Ironman in Edinburgh in July 2017. And heavier still when friends Matt in
Bristol and Neil (a Scot in Southampton) started messaging. Next thing, we had
all entered. I trialled my running legs with a short leg in the Edinburgh
marathon relay, but I could still barely run. Matt was also struggling with his
running while Neil was being a fish, or rather a shark, no doubt hammering out
the miles. Matt and I said well, we can swim and cycle and walk if we have to.
I’m pleased to say I did all my bike training out of doors
and never once set foot (set arse? set legs?) on a turbo trainer. I really butchered
the front end of my road bike, making it as low as possible. Comfortable it
wasn’t, efficient it probably wasn’t, but a low frontal area it was.
Race day crept up, with one pre-race highlight being the
Giro d’Italia Gran Fondo legacy event, a 109-mile cycle from Belfast down to
the Mourne mountains and back again. With thousands and thousands of others,
including my dad. Highlights included “Monte Spelga Dam” which I absolutely
blitzed, passing literally hundreds, and a torrential rain shower in the final
5k, followed by bright sunshine leading to riding back to the Stormont finish
on roads which were literally steaming. Unreal. Lowlights included dreadful
catering en route.
However, going into the Edinburgh half Ironman, I had
literally not run a step in training. Compared to the training I did in London
for various Ironmans, I had done very little swimming and not a lot of cycling
either. Oh well. This one was for fun.
The swim was horrific, on the cusp of being cancelled, worse
than the worst rough water in Tenby at Ironman Wales. It was shortened from two
laps to one which I was initially hacked off about, but after 5 minutes in the
water I wasn’t complaining. It was horrible swimming, like fighting a losing
battle with a sea monster. Neil was first out, I was on his tail, and Matt was
on my tail.
I’d agreed beforehand that after the race I would pick up
and look after a friend of a friend’s bike (he was flying to Hong Kong shortly
after the race). I knew it was a bright yellow bike. I knew he had already
achieved a half-Ironman world qualifying slot. Not long into the bike leg, I
passed him.
Hmmmm. Could I really be looking at a half Ironman world
qualifying slot at the finish? At this point, if I’d been able to do any
running training, I’d have said it could have been a good possibility… I
finished the bike and was the first non-time-trial bike to finish. I started to
run. Here goes… it was a brutal run course. No idea what to expect. How would
the calf be? I could run. A mile passed. Then 2 miles, and 3. It seemed OK. 8
weeks of no running meant my calf felt OK now. The first half passed fine. The
second half was dreadful. I had no running legs. No running done in training
and nowhere to hide. I went backwards. I ended up missing out on qualifying for the half-ironman world championships by less than one second in the end. Bah.
This was enough to plant more seeds. If I can do this well
at shorter stuff off so little training, how would I do if I actually trained?
What other options were there for later in the year? Half-Ironman Weymouth was
duly entered. This would mean a horrible, horrible drive, a long way south, in
September, but I figured based on my full Ironman results there from 2016, I
could have a good chance of getting a half Ironman world qualifying slot.
Off I went on my summer “holidays” to south-west Cork to
visit Steve and Natalie (housemates from London now living away down at the
bottom of the Beara peninsula). I say “holidays”. It was going to be over a
week of full-on training. I rode the Healy pass (one of Ireland’s most famous mountain
roads). I rode really strongly up it, feeling great. I rode it 4 times.
Then the next day I did a loop of the whole peninsula.
Coming to the end, after over 70 miles, I turned around a left-hander. A blind
left hander, off the main road, onto a side road. Bushes on the inside. I
wasn’t going fast. I banked round the turn. Without warning, I hit gravel. I
say “gravel”. It was coarse gravel, an inch deep. The road had recently been
resurfaced and an inch of gravel had been left on the inside of the road, a
stretch of about 10 feet. I was on it before I knew it and before I could
react, and because I was already banking, my wheels went from under me and down
I went.
It wasn’t a good result. I couldn’t move, and couldn’t get
up. And I was lying in a bad place. A van passed a few minutes later and
stopped. The guy went to pull me up. I said don’t, I can’t move. My left
shoulder was wrecked. He somehow helped me up and I was bleeding everywhere. I
knew my shoulder was in serious trouble. I called Steve. Of anyone I know,
Steve would be my number one choice of people to call in a situation like this.
He came, and brought me to the small medical centre. They
were just closing. I was in shock. Shaking and pale. And famished. I refused
all the painkilling injections. It was a bit like all the previous Ironman
disasters I’d had – bit of denial going on, this cannot be happening, again.
Steve said, “have them…” Steve is sensible, so I had injections in my ass and
was given pills to eat. My shoulder was dislocated, collar bone probably
broken, possible other breaks/damage elsewhere. An ambulance was called to take
me to the nearest hospital, an hour away. It took 2 hours. I kept having to
stop. I was in agony. Sucking on painkilling gas (I’m sure it was a placebo as
it did nothing), sipping water and trying not to vomit, the whole way there.
A wee tiny old nurse cleaned me up and sent me for x-rays. My
collarbone wasn’t broken. One positive. Then the heavy brigade came – a few
burly-looking males. Great, putting this back in isn’t going to be fun. They
cleared the ward out and closed the doors. Presumably they thought I’d scream
the place down. More painkilling gas. “Just suck on this like you’re smoking a
cigar, close your eyes, say a Hail Mary, and it’ll all be over…” “But I’ve
never smoked a cigar…” “Well, like you’re scuba diving then…” “Never done that
either…” “Just suck it and look away!” The agony went off the scale getting it
put back in. Then the wee nurse told me to pull down my shorts for a tetanus
injection. “But you’ve no arse to inject into!” she said. Yep, endurance
athletes tend to be scrawny. More laughing from Steve as I was given the jab.
Then they sent me on my way, saying when I got back to
Edinburgh to follow up with hospitals and doctors there. I had another week to
pass in south west Cork. Everything hurt. Deep road rash everywhere. Shoulder
in agony. Hips, knees, wrist in agony. Drugged up. Backside destroyed by all
the injections. I got back to Edinburgh, my hand was still sore, and I had an
x-ray. It was broken too. For a while I was in 2 slings. This happened over 8
months ago and I am still doing rehab and going to the hospital, and have
another specialist consultant appointment in April.
I went into denial mode again, thinking things might
miraculously heal, and I turbo trained in an upright position, in agony,
without holding handlebars. But it just wasn’t getting better. It was going to
take longer than a week or two to get over this. Forcing things wasn’t helping.
I needed to rest and recover. I couldn’t cycle or swim. I couldn’t hold handlebars.
I could barely function day-to-day. I had a few days in Aviemore (booked before
the crash) in the Highlands with a few from the running club. Turns out I could
barely run either as my knees gave up while trying to do a tempo run. So
Weymouth didn’t happen. So frustrating. All that fitness and nothing to show
for it again. Ironman (and half Ironman) f**k-up number 11.
All I could do was wait. Gradually the more superficial
stuff got better and I became able to run again. I set some new targets. The
club has an annual road race championship. I needed to do a 10K and a half
marathon to place in the championship (I’d already done the national road
relays, the national 5k and national 10 mile). So I turned out for the Scottish
half marathon in October with a chest infection, a battered body and not much
training done. And ran 1:15. And all I can remember is how quickly it passed
(compared with an Ironman or a half ironman).
I did the Scottish 10k too, with the chest infection still
lingering. I did 33-something. At least I’d place in the club championship. I
ended up getting a trophy for coming 2nd in this at our Christmas
dinner. That was a 4am night out…
By now I was thinking about triathlon more seriously again.
If I was serious, I’d have to get a decent bike. I couldn’t afford a new one,
so started looking at second hand bikes. I ended up buying the same model of
bike I’d sold, but one size smaller. Off a guy in London. So I drove from
Edinburgh to London (soul-destroying, I never again want to sit in English
traffic – a 7 hour drive took 13 hours), picked up the bike, drove to the
midlands to have it fitted, drove to Bristol to see Matt and his family (him
and his girlfriend have just had a baby), then back to Edinburgh. Then after
all that driving, my back went, so I was pretty much crippled for a fortnight. It took another while to get the bike exactly as I wanted it, and to get all the equipment needed - a quiet turbo trainer, aero bottles, servicing, spares etc.
The winter 2017/18 cross-country season started. As my legs
and back got better, I started to improve again. The first cross-country races
of the season were rubbish for me, but fitness started to come back gradually. I came third in a 10K in Edinburgh, which had the best finish I've ever raced - inside Murrayfield stadium, with a decent crowd in the stands, including my mum and my aunt. I ran 33 flat, and then went to Belfast for the Northern Ireland 10K, thinking I'd surely at least run sub-33. It was a terrible cold day and I had a terrible cold run and can't even remember my finishing time, other than it was terrible.
Then I had a really good run at the Scottish East District cross country in December
2017, leading to getting picked to run for Scotland East at the Great Edinburgh
International Cross Country in January 2018. Since I started running in
Aberdeen in 2003 I’d always heard about being picked to run for your
East/West/North Scotland district. To be picked in 2018 was great. I followed
this selection with another course PB at the Greencastle 5 mile race over
Christmas.
I had a rubbish run at the Great Edinburgh Cross Country, as
I had another horrible chesty cold and a bad calf. I was disappointed but I did
the best I could in the circumstances and thought oh well, running for Scotland
East may never happen again. Not long after, I went to the East Lothian cross
country. I’ve never won a cross-country race and I’d love to (who wouldn’t?)
This was probably one that got away. I was still feeling a bit flat, led the
first half comfortably, and just couldn’t maintain it. I finished 2nd and was
really disappointed, you don’t get many chances to win cross-country races.
In February 2018 I just about ran a PB in the Armagh 5K
(15:29) – a race which beats world records for the number of people who run
sub-15. They had nearly 100 runners under 15 minutes this year. On a 5-lap course.
It was like being in a tidal wave of runners, no room to move. Brutal racing. You
have to have run sub-16 to even qualify for Armagh. High quality running. Then
I spent a weekend at Strangford Lough watching Natalie compete in the “last one
standing”, where you run a 4.2 mile trail loop every hour until you can run no
more. Natalie was set for 24 hours but injury limited her to 12 hours. 12
hours! Not for me! I picked up a 5th Ulster cross country team gold medal
not long after this.
Then I got another call-up for Scotland East, to run in the
UK inter-county cross country in Loughborough. This was a great weekend on the
muddiest course I’ve ever seen. I got completely boxed in at the start which
annoyed me no end at the time but did me good overall as I came through the
field really strongly in the second half of the race.
I had a battle with a guy I knew from uni 10-12 years ago
(did I mention feeling old), he slipped about a kilometre from the finish when
just in front of me, and I slogged it out up the long uphill quagmire to the
finish line, beating him by 2 seconds. Not the way to beat a fellow competitor.
We got chatting afterwards, he’s still running and running well, and still
blogging. I later checked out his blog – short, snappy, weekly posts – if I
keep going with this blog, I am going to do likewise, as writing this blog had
turned into a lengthy (and let’s face it, pretty miserable) exercise while I
was in London.
Soon after finishing we were straight back onto the Scotland
bus, caked in mud. We got back at 1am, I did what I could to clean up, and flew
again to Cork the next morning. While there, I mostly stayed on the turbo
trainer – you can’t crash a turbo trainer! Steve and Natalie and I did an easy
ride up the Healy Pass, and we did the Bere Island ParkRun on St Patrick’s Day.
It’s a hilly, tough course, the record is 16:04, set by a Dutch guy years ago.
I wanted to break it. Arriving on the island, Daniel O’Donnell was there
filming a TV series about island life and B&Bs. It was very windy. Not a
record-breaking day, and not a day for Daniel O’Donnell’s hair to stay in place…
To run 16 flat for a 5k you need to run 5:10/mile. The first uphill mile was
into a strong wind, in 5:34. 24 seconds down after just a mile. I kept running
as hard as I could and finished in 16:12. Next time…
Over the last few months I’ve been putting together a plan
for my “second triathlon career”. It will be very tough to let the running go
because I’m currently not at a bad level and if I could keep running consistently
I’d love to see how quick I can go. But I have unfinished business with
triathlon. And, on some level, I enjoy it. Yes there is a lot about it that’s
an absolute pain in the arse, but I don’t want to look back and have regrets.
So I’ve an 18-month plan and I hope after this when I turn
35 (bloody hell) that I won’t be too far over the hill to be able to do my
sub-32 10K and sub-2:36 marathon. For now, it’s tough to let the running go
again. Plus, my shoulder and wrist aren’t 100%. They probably never will be,
but they seem good enough now to be able to cycle and swim. I hope the
specialist consultant appointment in April goes OK…
I am doing the Scottish duathlon on 25th March. My “new”
bike has a disc wheel and an aggressive aero position. I am interested to see
just how fast it will be – it should be significantly faster than my previous
bike. Another reason I am going for triathlon again is because I still think I
can improve and I know I have unfulfilled potential. Doing so “well” at the
Edinburgh half ironman last year off so little training has given me a bit of
confidence that I don’t need to be destroying myself day in and day out for
months and months and months, and allowing chronic fatigue to set in. I can do
well off less training – it’s about consistency more than anything, and trying
to enjoy it, and as I get older I need more and more rest and recovery.
I intend competing in the Scottish Borders triathlon series
(a minimum of 4 sprint/Olympic distance races to place in the overall series).
I’ll do a couple of other Olympic distance races and try to get picked to compete
for Ireland in the ITU world Olympic triathlon championships in Switzerland in
summer 2019. I’ll do the Edinburgh half Ironman properly this year. I’ll try to
qualify for the half Ironman world championships, held in South Africa (the
venue rotates every year) in September 2018. Conveniently, it’s on the same
course as the full Ironman in South Africa in April 2019. I’ll get through
summer 2018 first before making firm commitments, but it’s likely I’ll go and
do Ironman South Africa in April 2019. I’m a very lean and light athlete, and
racing UK long-course triathlons doesn’t suit me – I get cold and lose energy.
South Africa should be warm. There’s no time difference and no jet-lag. Plus if
I get to the half worlds, I’ll know the course too.
If I go to South Africa a year from now for the full Ironman,
I’ll be going for an Ironman world championship slot – Hawaii in October 2019. That
will have been a decade of triathlon. Then maybe a few weeks off and then back
to running for as long as it takes to achieve sub-32 and sub 2:36. Hopefully no
more than a year or two. Then I will retire from competition.
That’s the plan. I wonder what odds you’d get on it working
perfectly…?
