Post 183 - My Ironman history - not great reading

Not great reading indeed...

To qualify for Kona (the Ironman world championships in Kona, Hawaii), it's not about your finishing time. It's about where you place in your age group. When I started doing Ironman triathlons, qualification "slots" might have gone to 6th, 7th or even 8th in an age group.

Now, because the Ironman corporation (recently bought by a Chinese company for a fortune) exists, arguably, as a profit-making corporate machine, they have a lot more races, but still the same total number of slots for Hawaii, spread more thinly around all the extra races. So, slots might only go to 3rd or 4th in an age group.

But you never know in advance. You can look at previous results, and who qualified, and make an educated guess as to what sort of time you might need. With the new bike course this year, I can't do that because there are no previous times to go on. You can't even be sure how many slots will be in the age group. And some slots might roll down (for example if the guy who finished 2nd doesn't want his slot for whatever reason, it will "roll down"). You never know how far it will roll down, if it rolls at all.

Also, if there is one 73 year old woman who finishes, she will be entitled to a slot for the F70-74 age group. If she declines it, and there's no-one else in her age group for it to roll to, it will be allocated to a different age group which proportionally has the most people in it.

You could turn up one year and find that you qualify with 10:30. And the following year on the same course, 9:45 might not even be good enough to qualify. 

Ironman UK 2011 (pre-London/pre-having money, trained while teaching in Korea) – done on entry-level cheap bike, didn’t have a clue, 11th in age group, good enough to plant the seed but ran out of money and couldn’t afford to try again.

Ironman UK 2013 – now working in London, got a new expensive bike (3 years to pay it off), was winning my age group with 10 miles left to run, started explosive vomiting and diarrhoea with no warning. Likely food poisoning from the hotel. Collapsed, game over, ambulance etc.

Ironman Wales 2013 – a few weeks later, not fully recovered, got beaten to a pulp in the swim and took on a lot of seawater. Finished 5th in age group. 5th got a slot at Ironman UK a few weeks previously. But slots only went to 4th in Wales. Some slots “roll down”, because some people decline their slots for whatever reason – already qualified a a previous race, for example. Usually a handful of slots roll down. Went to the awards ceremony. No slots rolled down. Absolutely gutted.

Ironman UK 2014 – I moved up to a tougher age group (M30-34). I trained hard and was very fit, far better than in 2013 (2013 100 mile time trial in 4:14, 2014 same 100 time trial in 3:59), so a similar 15-20 minute improvement in bike time in the Ironman would have seen me mix it with the pros. 2 weeks before the race, had a sports massage which resulted in hospitalisation for 3 nights with horrendous leg infections/sepsis. Nearly died. Went to the race anyway, probably shouldn't have bothered. Had nothing. DNF (Did Not Finish).

Ironman Wales 2014 – not fully recovered (same as for Ironman Wales 2013), went in desperation more than anything to try to salvage something to show for all the work done, I faded halfway through the marathon when I was in 6th. 6th would have done it. I couldn’t hang on, was just ruined. Another sickener was that I turned 30 years old more than 2 months AFTER Ironman Wales 2014, but their very strange rules mean that you race in the age group of the age you are at the end of the calendar year. So I was 29 years old when I raced Ironman Wales 2014. Had I been in the M25-29 age group in this race, my finishing position would have seen me qualify.

Ironman UK 2015 – went through the 7-month build-up again, was optimistic going into the race. Apocalyptic monsoon conditions, freezing cold, windy. I was frozen, even before I got in the water, frozen on the bike, and my power output was terrible. Could not get going. Bad circulation in my frozen hands meant I couldn’t feed myself nor drink, nor control the bike or brake or change gear (all essential…) This sounds like excuses, I’m not making excuses, it wasn’t my day, but I’m skinny and don’t go well in the cold (6 feet 1 and only 63kg for this race, I was "too skinny" for the conditions). I usually train indoors in 25-30 degree heat, I go well in warm conditions, not in cold.

Ironman Wales 2015 – trying to salvage my season (familiar story), didn’t feel well the week before the race (people were ill in the office and it cracked me up), ended up violently vomiting my guts up so badly it was bloody in the swim, hanging off a lifeguard canoe, got frozen, got hauled into a lifeboat and brought ashore, game over.

Ironman UK 2016 - forced myself through it all again, got back in shape again, did the 100 mile time trial in 3:58, even won the Bristol triathlon, was determined to finally do it. I knew the Bolton race inside out by now, my 5th time at IMUK. You've always been able to jump in off the pontoon and into water deep enough to swim (as you'd expect). This time the water was 2ft deep, and no warning (you couldn't see the bottom as it was so murky). I was at the front, jumped in (not even a jump, a step down off the pontoon as I've done many times before), hit rocks, fell over, smashed myself to pieces on the rocks, a few more behind did the same before people realised. There's a video of it on YouTube, it's painful to watch. Bled for 6 hours on the bike, rubbish bike time as I couldn't pedal properly, my knee was ruined, and couldn't run at all due to cut feet. DNF. I was lucky, some people broke bones. 10:39 qualified that day, I'd have been very confident that I could have done 10:39. Nothing will ever bring that chance round again.

Ironman Weymouth 2016 - the last chance, before London and the job and the house all came to an end and I packed it in and sold the bike. Couldn't train properly for it due to the injuries from the previous race, and couldn't really race properly. 3rd out of the water but bikers who overtook me in the first 20-30 miles of the bike, how they can go that fast up hills is crazy. There are some very strong bikers out there. Couldn't really race on the bike and in the run due to the injuries. I’ve heard that doping is more common than you would like to think in Ironman/triathlon racing, perhaps more so among age-groupers because there's not much, if any, testing. 

Ironman Edinburgh 70.3 2017 – Moved to Edinburgh, sold the bike, then along came the new Edinburgh race. Did zero running training in the 8 weeks before due to a torn calf. And did very little swimming and cycling in comparison to previously. Also did it on a cheap road bike rather than a proper triathlon bike. Did it for a laugh more than anything. But anyway. Had a really competitive swim, a really competitive bike, but couldn't bluff the run. If I'd been able to do any sort of running training I am confident I would have qualified. I missed qualifying by one second.

Ironman Weymouth 70.3 2017 - Thought if I actually trained for this I would qualify. And with 75 qualifying slots and a course I knew from last year, I was really confident. On a training week in rural Ireland, crashed on a blind corner on gravel - unbelievable, a resurfaced road and they finished it with a stretch of 20m of gravel an inch deep, because it was a blind corner I was on it before I could react, and because I was banking round the corner, my wheels went. Dislocated shoulder, broken hand, hips and knee smashed, cut to shreds. So no Weymouth.

Ironman Edinburgh 70.3 2018 - Bought a new (second hand) triathlon bike, worked up the courage to get back on it after the crash, and trained seriously. Did some shorter races in the build-up, won a few of them. Was confident going into it. It was a boiling hot day and I didn’t drink enough on the bike (in the shorter races I did in the build-up there was no need to worry about hydration and nutrition on the race – a gulp of water and a gel was enough). So I started the run dehydrated and got horrific cramps throughout and ended up with a truly terrible run time. I qualified for the world championships in South Africa by default but took no satisfaction from it.

Ironman 70.3 world championships 2018, South Africa – injured my Achilles and was unable to do any running training for weeks/months. Was in a terrible frame of mind, about the trip and the race. My front brake caliper broke halfway round the bike course, so I was standing at the side of the road with a front brake hanging off, no way to fix it, and a “run” coming up that I hadn’t trained for and had no idea if my Achilles would allow me to complete it – I was in a bad mood. On-course mechanics improvised to fix the brake and I got to the run. I had a miracle of a run – one of my best runs ever and one of the top runs on the day. It was a miracle. Had I not had the brake issue, and had I been able to do some running training, I could have placed very competitively. Another case of what if, what if, what if. I’m sick of expensive, time consuming what-ifs.

Ironman UK 2019 – Trying again at the full distance. Learned quite a bit from South Africa – reduce the training load, trust in your ability, do a shorter build-up, got a better bike, better helmet, better nutrition/hydration strategy and products. All well and good in theory but I have to survive another build-up, not get injured, get the training done, not get sick, survive a duck/swan-shit infested swim, a dangerous bike course and a tough run course, and hope for good weather (I’m in trouble if it’s wet or cold as I’m very lean compared to others), and hope to get through the day well, and hope for a bit of luck with the qualification slot allocation. Could be setting myself up for another big disastrous disappointment here, but there we go. I still believe, and have always believed in the potential that I have, and I believe I can deliver on that, and if I do, I believe I can achieve a good result. I've got to roll the dice again and accept whatever comes - all I can do (and have done) is the best I can to get to the start line in the best shape possible.