Hello Toby & all at driventotri,
Now the 2009 Ironman 70.3 World Championships are done and dusted, and it’s a cold, wet and windy return to the UK – what better time, for some calm and thoughtful reflection on events of the past few weeks... SH*T! What the hell happened on that run! While other people were winning their races, (congratulations to Julie Dibens), here's how it went for a run-challenged age-grouper aged forty four and three-quarters.
The first thing to hit you as you step off the plane in Orlando is the heat and humidity. At seven o’clock on a Saturday evening this is quite worrying. With race day less than a week away, visions of a dehydrated camel come to mind. On Monday and Tuesday things are still pretty muggy, making pre-race bike and run sessions like a workout in a sauna. We shouldn’t have worried though, as gales from the tail-end of hurricane Ida blew through for the next few days, clearing the air. With the cloud gone and clear skies however, the eventual race-day temperature soared - feeling much hotter than any summer’s day back at home.
Swim training in the week leading up to the race was done at the 'Long Center' pool in Clearwater (as recommended by Toby), which like everything in America, is big (and a bit odd) – 50 meters x 25 yards. It is so big infact that they can turn the lanes around to give a whopping 20 x 25 yards worth of lanes - impressive!
Because of Hurricane Ida we weren't able to swim in the sea leading up to the event at all. This lead to the eventual staging of the swim proper, in the creek behind the sea front - a decision taken on the night before the race, although on the morning of the race the sea was calm and almost glassy-like. I had no problems with this, as a swim’s just a swim! More importantly it didn’t extend T1 – as the run from the creek was about the same as from the sea. For the spectators however, it was, as my wife berated “not much of a spectacle” as had been promised from pier 60.
After driving round the bike route for a pre-race reccy, we decided the roads used for the race were a bit busy and intimidating for any training rides. On several parts of the route, there are four lanes of independently moving traffic. This means no slow, middle and fast lanes to avoid, as cars undertake in any lane. This is not the case on race day when the roads are coned-off beautifully and the ride is an amazingly fast and safe one. To avoid the traffic, early on two mornings, we (myself and fellow competitor, Nathan) headed south out of Clearwater Beach along the coast road. This proved to be pretty good riding - cycle lanes on both sides with… speed bumps thrown in – obviously someone felt the need to slow down all of those carbon wheels at triathlon time! Even so, we still saw plenty of other competitors using this route.
One of the highlights of the week was a meeting with Craig Alexander, nicknamed ‘Crowie’. At this point I should confess that I didn’t actually know who ‘Crowie’ was (shame on me! I know!). But I’ve been so busy doing triathlon that I’ve never really looked into its celebrity world. It was Nathan who suggested we go to an early morning Q & A session held at the Hilton, catchily titled, “Coffee with Crowie”. As impressive as any meeting with a world champion is, and Crowie spoke with the relaxed air of a man at the top of his game, for me, watching Nathan’s obvious admiration and respect for this world class athlete was both touching and in its own way inspirational, especially given Nathan’s own abilities as a triathlete (he went on to clock 4:13:12 and finish 161 overall).
So! Down to race day - Saturday the 14th November. The day begins at 4:45 am. I force down two slices of toast, although nerves are beginning to take hold. First stop, the toilet. By 5:30 I’m through athlete’s marking and into transition, tyres are up and drinks bottles loaded. That leaves about an hour and a half to soak up the atmosphere. Although it’s still dark, a huge square is lit--up. In it contains all of the noise, colour and action form a thousand nervous souls. Groups gather to talk and laugh, while others stand alone, silent, heads bent staring at the ground. Then before I know it, I’m standing on the jetty with the race official barking his instructions. And go… I hoped into the water and enter a world of isolation, concentration and effort.
After a 27:40 minute swim, I come off the bike feeling amazing, 2:12:51, wow! (I’d been dreaming of 2:30 ish!) – it was all going so well. I set off from T2 bang on 7 minute miling. I’m feeling good (I see my wife who looks amazed to see me so soon. She shouts “take it easy, take it easy” I don’t listen). Down the long flat tarmac strip heading out of town, mile one and I’m still feeling good. Up over the bridge, still good. Shock! Jodie Swallow is walking (I didn’t know Pros did that). Two miles in I’m still feeling good. I’m eating up the field, a Pro comes through but I’m still feeling good. Three miles, still good. The four mile marker comes into view and… BANG! I’m not feeling good. Suddenly my legs feel heavy, I feel deflated, more like rubber than an ironman. From here it gets ugly and not really triathlon at all. I walk-run, walk-run, for the next 8 miles. With the fatigue I’m now feeling, every time I try to run, there’s a pain in the top of my left leg/buttock, an injury I’ve been carrying since August. The pain increases when I run and relents when I walk. The cycle of pain and relief repeats itself. The 4:30 goal I’d hoped for, and that had looked a cert an hour and a half ago, passes. I’m determined to run the last mile – there’s no way I’m walking over this line. I come in 4:39:08.
Looking back over the race (as I have done almost constantly from the minute I crossed the finish line - much to my family’s annoyance), I feel a bit disappointed. Undoubtedly the injury and lack of run training got to me. Also race-day-nutrition played its part. But should I feel disappointed? Having to shift my training efforts onto the bike over the last few months, gave me a bike split I never even dreamt of (credit to Toby for that). And in the end it’s the thing I love about triathlon – it’s multifaceted – if one thing’s not working, reassess and work on something else. That’s the beauty of three sports rolled into one. This is only my third shot at the 70.3 distance and what an experience! If I can qualify again who knows, injury free a sub 4:20 might be on the cards. So that’s it! All I can say in true American style – racing at the 2009 Ironman 70.3 World Champs… “friggin awesome man!”
Little did I know that the true marathon was yet to begin. After Clearwater it was back to Orlando and one week at Disney. With two kids, one baby and a credit-card wielding wife – a recipe just about enough to break any man. Check out the grumpy guy holding hands with Lisa.
Now the 2009 Ironman 70.3 World Championships are done and dusted, and it’s a cold, wet and windy return to the UK – what better time, for some calm and thoughtful reflection on events of the past few weeks... SH*T! What the hell happened on that run! While other people were winning their races, (congratulations to Julie Dibens), here's how it went for a run-challenged age-grouper aged forty four and three-quarters.
The first thing to hit you as you step off the plane in Orlando is the heat and humidity. At seven o’clock on a Saturday evening this is quite worrying. With race day less than a week away, visions of a dehydrated camel come to mind. On Monday and Tuesday things are still pretty muggy, making pre-race bike and run sessions like a workout in a sauna. We shouldn’t have worried though, as gales from the tail-end of hurricane Ida blew through for the next few days, clearing the air. With the cloud gone and clear skies however, the eventual race-day temperature soared - feeling much hotter than any summer’s day back at home.
Swim training in the week leading up to the race was done at the 'Long Center' pool in Clearwater (as recommended by Toby), which like everything in America, is big (and a bit odd) – 50 meters x 25 yards. It is so big infact that they can turn the lanes around to give a whopping 20 x 25 yards worth of lanes - impressive!
Because of Hurricane Ida we weren't able to swim in the sea leading up to the event at all. This lead to the eventual staging of the swim proper, in the creek behind the sea front - a decision taken on the night before the race, although on the morning of the race the sea was calm and almost glassy-like. I had no problems with this, as a swim’s just a swim! More importantly it didn’t extend T1 – as the run from the creek was about the same as from the sea. For the spectators however, it was, as my wife berated “not much of a spectacle” as had been promised from pier 60.
After driving round the bike route for a pre-race reccy, we decided the roads used for the race were a bit busy and intimidating for any training rides. On several parts of the route, there are four lanes of independently moving traffic. This means no slow, middle and fast lanes to avoid, as cars undertake in any lane. This is not the case on race day when the roads are coned-off beautifully and the ride is an amazingly fast and safe one. To avoid the traffic, early on two mornings, we (myself and fellow competitor, Nathan) headed south out of Clearwater Beach along the coast road. This proved to be pretty good riding - cycle lanes on both sides with… speed bumps thrown in – obviously someone felt the need to slow down all of those carbon wheels at triathlon time! Even so, we still saw plenty of other competitors using this route.
One of the highlights of the week was a meeting with Craig Alexander, nicknamed ‘Crowie’. At this point I should confess that I didn’t actually know who ‘Crowie’ was (shame on me! I know!). But I’ve been so busy doing triathlon that I’ve never really looked into its celebrity world. It was Nathan who suggested we go to an early morning Q & A session held at the Hilton, catchily titled, “Coffee with Crowie”. As impressive as any meeting with a world champion is, and Crowie spoke with the relaxed air of a man at the top of his game, for me, watching Nathan’s obvious admiration and respect for this world class athlete was both touching and in its own way inspirational, especially given Nathan’s own abilities as a triathlete (he went on to clock 4:13:12 and finish 161 overall).
So! Down to race day - Saturday the 14th November. The day begins at 4:45 am. I force down two slices of toast, although nerves are beginning to take hold. First stop, the toilet. By 5:30 I’m through athlete’s marking and into transition, tyres are up and drinks bottles loaded. That leaves about an hour and a half to soak up the atmosphere. Although it’s still dark, a huge square is lit--up. In it contains all of the noise, colour and action form a thousand nervous souls. Groups gather to talk and laugh, while others stand alone, silent, heads bent staring at the ground. Then before I know it, I’m standing on the jetty with the race official barking his instructions. And go… I hoped into the water and enter a world of isolation, concentration and effort.
After a 27:40 minute swim, I come off the bike feeling amazing, 2:12:51, wow! (I’d been dreaming of 2:30 ish!) – it was all going so well. I set off from T2 bang on 7 minute miling. I’m feeling good (I see my wife who looks amazed to see me so soon. She shouts “take it easy, take it easy” I don’t listen). Down the long flat tarmac strip heading out of town, mile one and I’m still feeling good. Up over the bridge, still good. Shock! Jodie Swallow is walking (I didn’t know Pros did that). Two miles in I’m still feeling good. I’m eating up the field, a Pro comes through but I’m still feeling good. Three miles, still good. The four mile marker comes into view and… BANG! I’m not feeling good. Suddenly my legs feel heavy, I feel deflated, more like rubber than an ironman. From here it gets ugly and not really triathlon at all. I walk-run, walk-run, for the next 8 miles. With the fatigue I’m now feeling, every time I try to run, there’s a pain in the top of my left leg/buttock, an injury I’ve been carrying since August. The pain increases when I run and relents when I walk. The cycle of pain and relief repeats itself. The 4:30 goal I’d hoped for, and that had looked a cert an hour and a half ago, passes. I’m determined to run the last mile – there’s no way I’m walking over this line. I come in 4:39:08.
Looking back over the race (as I have done almost constantly from the minute I crossed the finish line - much to my family’s annoyance), I feel a bit disappointed. Undoubtedly the injury and lack of run training got to me. Also race-day-nutrition played its part. But should I feel disappointed? Having to shift my training efforts onto the bike over the last few months, gave me a bike split I never even dreamt of (credit to Toby for that). And in the end it’s the thing I love about triathlon – it’s multifaceted – if one thing’s not working, reassess and work on something else. That’s the beauty of three sports rolled into one. This is only my third shot at the 70.3 distance and what an experience! If I can qualify again who knows, injury free a sub 4:20 might be on the cards. So that’s it! All I can say in true American style – racing at the 2009 Ironman 70.3 World Champs… “friggin awesome man!”
Little did I know that the true marathon was yet to begin. After Clearwater it was back to Orlando and one week at Disney. With two kids, one baby and a credit-card wielding wife – a recipe just about enough to break any man. Check out the grumpy guy holding hands with Lisa.
