Ironman Hamburg - Der Weg zur Hölle

"The race format will now be changed to a Run – Bike – Run duathlon"
When you've spent all year training for a swim bike run to the point where I've been going to the lido at 7am before work, this news was pretty disappointing. Additionally, those who are previous readers of this blog might remember running is my least favourite discipline (to the point where I actually actively hated it but thankfully not so much any more). I'd only done one duathlon before and it wasn't an experience I wanted to repeat. It is what it is though. You can only control the controllables and I certainly couldn't control a load of toxic algae in a German lake.

I'd done 3120 km cycling, 560 km running and 188.2 km swimming this year and spent 320 hours training in the snow, rain and months of hot weather. The training had been done but the anxiety had started to get to me though on Saturday night and I found it hard to be around my fellow Tritons. I slept very badly, mostly because I was worried about whether I'd be able to get a pump for my tyres in the morning (I'd deflated my tyres because it was so hot).

When the time finally came to get up, I crashed around getting ready. I tried to eat something but I felt so nauseous. I made the mistake of trying to force too much porridge down which almost instantly came back up again. Not good. At least with the run-bike-run format I didn't have to worry about swim cap or the brand new goggles I'd had to buy at the last minute. I did notice a couple of people line up with swim cap on and goggles round their necks!

The run start was a bit chaotic. Nobody really knew where they were going. I lost Jodie after she walked off too fast for me and ended up milling around on my own. I found the timing pens and put myself in an early pen so to give me a bit more time to get round the course. The race started with the pro men first then the ladies. I reckon it took at least half an hour to get to the start where they were letting people off six at a time like they would if we were swimming. 

We lined up, the whistle blew, and we were off! I tried to maintain marathon pace but I was a little fast in the end. Still much slower than most of the others. It was early but still warm. I was already suffering and wondering if there was going to be any aid stations. As we came back into the centre there was a water station - thank goodness - and we went around another block and into transition. At the turnaround point there were still some people behind me, including a guy who looked like he was hobbling in pain already.

Hamburg transition was incredibly long, with bags all at one end, then loos and long racks of bikes. I tried to change as quickly as possible from run shoes to bike and then grabbed my helmet and gloves to run to my bike. 

Once out on Eric (my bike) I was not a happy bunny. The nausea I'd experienced earlier was still there with a menace and I really thought I was going to be sick. I just wanted to turn tail and go back to the hotel. At the second aid station I grabbed some coke and that helped ease my stomach and give me some much needed energy. The road was so long and featureless that I ended up focusing on the cyclists coming back the other way to keep me going. The only interesting part was the turnaround section where we went through a couple of villages and people were actually cheering.

Out to the Road to Hell again

 Then back down the featureless road - for some reason it felt slightly downhill on the way back. The headwind on the way up seemed to be a headwind on the way back. It just went on forever and my feet started to burn. I remembered last year the first loop feeling better but not so much this time. Finally started coming into town, over the cobbles and under the bridge where Jodie's supporters were waiting along with Stuart to cheer me on. There was a loop through town, then back under the bridge which echoed with the cheering of Jodie's supporters! Through the cobbles and then back onto the featureless road. I renamed it the Road to Hell as it was so boring, and it was just getting hotter. I kept telling myself to suck it up. I'd written several mantras on my water bottle and I just kept going through them. Ride to cider was one that was helping. I began to fantasize about the bottles of fizz my parents had kindly given us and having a nice cold glass of champagne. Hot feet, sore legs, ride to cider, do it for cake. I even started the alphabet game, this time of Tritons. The Lizzies featured twice in this as I was sure at least one was an Elizabeth. Other honourable mentions were Rebeca, Thea and Gary. I struggled with Q and D ended up being (James) Donaldson because I couldn't think of anyone else. My bike handling skills must have come along because I was so hot at one stage I grabbed my water bottle out of the cage and poured it all over myself - you guys would have been so impressed. I saw Gary and Jodie on the course and a couple of other Tritons shouted my name as they whizzed past me. Burning feet, sore legs, ride to cider, do it for cake. This really was the road to hell, constantly spinning, where was that aid station? Suck it up. You paid for this. A to Z of bands fizzled out after Erasure. My feet are literally on fire. Drink more coke, eat something, where's the half way point? Those sheep look hot. I wished I was one of the Germans having a paddle in the river. Aid station, thank goodness, more water, throw some over me, more coke. Nausea is receding. Burning feet, sore legs, ride to cider, do it for cake. So hot. Musn't forget to drink and try to eat. I think my nutrition did suffer because my stomach was so in bits and I ended up eating when I felt a bit tired which wasn't a very good strategy at all - I should have eaten whenever my watch buzzed at me. 40 km to go, you can do this, it's just an Olympic distance cycle now. Burning feet, sore legs, ride to cider, do it for cake. How much more of this road to go? I remembered reading something about how tarmac reflects heat and wondered if it was actually hotter because of that. Believe, keep pedalling, put your head down and use that power. I decided I wasn't going to enter another race, that I needed to go back to the place where I loved cycling and wasn't constantly chasing cut off times. 30 km to go, how long was that? Only an hour maybe left to go? Usually I have songs going round my head but this time all I had was "he is a very model of a very stable genius" which made me go off on a tangent about whether geniuses were in general stable...  20 km to go, nearly there now, Rebeca will have left by now, where's the final aid station and the route into town? It was only at that point that I noticed that my aid station km notes were wrong because I'd written 190 km as the final aid station... given the course is less than 180 I knew that was incorrect!

Hmm something doesn't add up here

 Final aid station, more water down my back, let's get into town. Over the cobbles, under the bridge - now empty, so I sang "All by myself" down it to echoes. Stuart was at transition waving me on, back out to do a quick loop through town, loads of people on the run course, and YES there was transition. I could finally come off my bike.
I smiled at Stuart and ran into transition. Racked the bike, and then ran to the bags. On the way was the portaloos so I had to have my now traditional only loo stop of the Ironman. Unfortunately I'd already taken one of my bike gloves off and one ended up falling into the portaloo. I was almost going to try and rescue it until I remembered that I was going to buy myself a new pair anyway and it wasn't worth getting any nearer the disgusting contents. At the change area, I ended up taking both bags off the hooks again (you get one for bike and one for run) for no particular good reason, put my bike stuff back in the bike bag and put my trainers on for the second time that day. I got the bags mixed up on the way back but the lady told me to leave them. She also put some sun tan lotion on me, and muttered something in German that included the word "rot" which even with my incredibly basic language skills I understood as red and that I might be burnt already.
Don't stop when you're tired, stop when you're done 
Out onto the run then, and I'd already established from Stuart that I had 7 hours in which to complete the marathon. It started off ok but I really began to suffer round the first loop. I walked a lot. It was incredibly hot. There was a tune I used to sing "I had a tractor, the wheels fell off". Well, it felt as if the wheels had well and truly fallen off. About 6 km in Alex came past me and started to offer me the contents of his rucksack - a salt pill, some energy drink to swallow it down with, and even a peanut energy bar thing which I refused as I didn't want to eat something new on race day. It did remind me though that I probably hadn't eaten enough and thus Alex may have saved my marathon, because from then on I tried my hardest to eat food.
90% mental
Every aid station I walked through and grabbed water, ice, sponges, coke, iso and occasionally bananas. The bananas really helped. I grabbed too much ice from one aid station, chucked it all down the front of my top and then ended up almost giving myself cold shock! I didn't make that mistake again... The first loop was awful, still very hot, and although I saw most of my fellow Tritons and the Jodie cheering squad I was properly suffering. I even shouted at Gary and told him to give me a hug (sorry for making you turn around!). I told Stuart and he said "Do you want to quit?" and I said "I'll keep going and see how I get on". He also saved my marathon, because he told me if I kept walking I wouldn't make it before the cut off point. So I ran as best I could between the aid stations. Finally picking up my first band, I ran past the finish line and off out to my second lap.
Ironman is like a holiday only harder
My second lap was easier and I knew what to expect more. Still lots of people, many with three bands. I had a peanut bar of my own in my trisuit and this was the best thing ever. As my stomach was still a bit iffy the shot bloks were making it worse so I was so glad I'd stuffed this peanut bar in the back of my trisuit. I now knew every time I looped around I got the chance to run back into town and see Stuart, which was an incredibly powerful motivator to keep going. By the time I got to the third loop - the awkward loop as I thought of it - I felt OK.
If it was easy, it wouldn't be Ironman

Right then, out along the river, through the stinky tunnel, past the American embassy, past the retro bike trailer, past the aid station, through the two out and back loops, back towards Stuart, another aid station, the super posh hotel, the sign to Eppendorf (my scientist mind was really amused that there was a place called Eppendorf), on and on until finally back through the stinky tunnel, up the ramp which I walked every time, round and back past the Red Bull truck, and then through the aid station that had the lap bands. Repeat. Far fewer people on the course now, most had the dark blue band that meant they were on their last loop. The aid stations had started packing up which made me panic that we were running out of time. My £3.50 shades from Decathlon which I'd planned on chucking once they were uneccessary were quite happily sat on top of my head so I left them there (I actually think I've ended up with slight glasses chafe on the side of my nose!). I could feel my arms rubbing my trisuit every time I moved them but I had to keep going. I ended up with really bad chafing all along the inside of my arm from that. The sponges that they gave us which I stuffed down my top also started chafing so as soon as it started to get a little bit cooler I stopped taking sponges.
If you're going to cry, do it now
My quads felt so stiff by this stage. I thought, well, if they're going to cut us off at 14 h at least that means I don't have to run any more. As I ran past Stuart I asked him if the cut off was 14 h. He said no, and that I was doing really well. Blue lap band can mean only one thing, last lap time. Hurrah. Made it past the finish line and off I go back out again. The aid stations are still open, and there are only a handful of us on the course now. My average pace is truly awful, but I know I can make it to the end in time if I just keep jogging. I go past a couple of others who seem to be suffering. I try my best to offer words of encouragement but it's hard when you're not sure they understand English. One who doesn't seem to understand then does start to talk to me and we jog for a while together. Back through the stinky tunnel for the penultimate time and off towards the American Embassy. The lights start coming on and the aid stations aren't clearing away as much as they were earlier. I thank as many volunteers as I can in my broken German. Danke, Danke. Water, coke, iso. Salt. Next time I will buy salt tablets because pure salt or salt water is Grim. Although there is not going to be a next time, I remind myself. I'm never doing this to myself again. As I come back into town, there are a few people behind me, I clap them as I go past. One guy I go past I am sure says he is only on his third lap. I don't think he's going to make the cut off. So close now, only a Parkrun left to go. This should sound easy but in practice after you've been going for over 13 hours it really isn't. 38 km, we're getting there, past the posh hotel for the final time and I end up being caught up by the guys who would eventually finish just ahead of me. Another aid station, I mistakenly take a large gulp of Redbull (yuk!), and finally through the stinky tunnel for the last time. Up the hill, the Redbull station is now closed and gone home, although the sticky road is still there (yuk!).
Final furlong, last aid station and YES here is my last red band. I can now run down the finisher chute! The guys want to run with me "We run together!" but I can tell I'm slowing them down so I encourage them to go ahead. Here's the last corner, and there's the finisher chute! I am so bloody happy I made it! I am going to enjoy the moment, so I start leaping and dancing like a mad thing (no idea where I got the energy from) as I go past the volunteers giving them high fives and the immortal words... Hilary Logan, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN ring through the loud speakers. I jump through the finishing line with a massive smile on my face.