- To complete a 'full distance' Ironman branded 70.3 (the swim was cut short in Edinburgh)
- To finish
- Try not to finish last (or nearly last)
I tried my hardest to stick to the training plan I'd been given. I did have to move things around so I could get to the lido on the bike and, for various reasons, ended up discovering the local cycling routes near where my parents live. Not as hilly as I would have liked!
Finally taper week arrived. I wasn't ready. I never feel ready. The Fear gripped me. Coupled to this was the weather reports of high winds which really didn't help my anxiety. They cancelled Velo South, would they cancel all - or part- of Weymouth? I couldn't bear the thought of yet another very expensive duathlon. Ironman sent us an email to tell us they were going ahead but maybe to not go with the deep rims.
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| The weather report went from windy to rainy to ALL the wind and ALL the rain and cold! |
Friday morning I drove to Weymouth to my B&B. I cannot fault the Kingswood guest house, they were extremely accommodating even though it was a bit of a walk into town. I made it in time for the first race briefing where once again they tried to reassure us that they were going to try and give us the full race. It was lovely if windy on the Friday and the sea was flat calm. The weather reports started to look more hopeful windwise (not rainwise though, it was going to be a horrible day!). I had a nice easy run, ate fish and chips (well it is the seaside!) and tried to sleep. I slept very badly, tossing and turning all night, worrying about things like how I was going to get to transition on race day and whether I would make the cut offs.
Saturday was a useful morning of course recce with Adam which really put my mind at ease regarding any steep hills on the course. I racked early afternoon in the driving drizzle which was pretty miserable. I was glad this time that transition was inside a tent so at least our bags were protected. I then had nothing to do with the rest of the day apart from worry so I took myself to Ironprayer. I met up with Caroline and Sarah there which was great and it did help ease my mind a bit.
Saturday night was another terrible sleep. I worried about how I was going to get from the finish to transition and then back to the B&B. My alarm went off but I was pretty much awake anyway. I got ready, attempted to eat something slowly and, after much checking, left the B&B. It was dark and cold. The amount of drunk people going home the other way was interesting! It was only as I got to the other end of the esplenade that I finally saw other athletes. I was one of the first into transition to sort my bike. Then I waited. I stood in someone's garage for a while trying to keep out of the cold and rain and that was when the message came through that they were cutting the swim short. Blast. They also delayed the start which meant more standing around in the rain. A combination of cold wind and rain meant most of us were shivering before we started. I spent a lot of time thinking about quitting but I couldn't face the faff of trying to find my bag etc. Plus apparently the sea was going to be warm in comparison!
The swim- Never gonna give you up
We started to move and eventually got to the start line. Once again I went through the beep, beep beep and go! Run into the water and start swimming. The sea was a maelstrom of waves and swimmers. I could hear someone behind me being reassured by a lifeguard. Someone tried to kick my goggles off but luckily was unsuccessful. The buoys were all over the place. I tried my best to swim in a straight line and sight but it was hard work. Every buoy was a concentration of legs, arms and bodies. One red buoy down - or was that the second, no there it is ahead. Round the second red buoy and back to the red arch. I started to motor towards the finish. I was very grateful for my years of experience surfing (well bodyboarding) on the Cornwall beaches as it meant I could use the forward propulsion of the waves to get me back to the beach. My coach had promised me a crystal clear sea and I had an irrational moment of thinking, "it's not bloody clear, I can't see anything!" The rough seas had churned up the water so much. I could feel the rain lash against my goggles every time I went to take a breath. I got into the beach, trying to keep low as long as possible, and when I got to stand up next to the assistant I got terrible cramp and almost fell back in the sea again. Luckily I managed to hobble under the arch and it eased almost instantly.
Into transition, which was heaving. I took this as a good sign that my swim was quick, or maybe it was just full of people making sure they'd put layers on before venturing out into the pouring rain. I'd packed arm warmers, a gilet AND a packable rain jacket and decided to put on the arm warmers and the rain jacket. Out into the rain, straight through a couple of puddles - wet feet already! - grab the bike and onto the mount line.
Someone said before we started "This is going to be less of a question of endurance and more one of survival". The rain was absolutely lashing it down. Within about 5 minutes my glasses had steamed up and were positively dangerous. I had to take them off and put them in my back pocket (that was the last I saw of them 😢). Thank goodness for contact lenses. The first part of the bike ride just seemed to be mostly climbing but I tried my best to keep pedalling. I was surprised to find I wasn't feeling nauseous and this time made a much better effort with my nutrition, eating when I felt low and drinking whenever my alarm went off. I never managed to finish my water bottle between stops though. The food helped and made me power on through. The amount of people that I saw stopped, sorting out punctures, freezing in cars and minibuses was something else. Almost every marshall or corner seemed to be complete with at least one bike and sad looking rider. The aid stations were inundated with cyclists who had given up. The marshalls and volunteers did an absolutely amazing effort standing out in those conditions for hours. I started to feel wet and cold myself. My feet were freezing, but I actually decided that freezing wet feet were better compared to burning feet that I experienced in Hamburg. I decided to take ownership. This was MY country, these were MY roads and this was MY kind of weather. It could have been hypothermia speaking, but it helped me. I was also grateful to my hours of experience of cycling commuting in the pouring rain. My coach had told me to go aero as much as possible in the blowing wind and, as I infamously don't have any aero bars, I just crouched as low as I could. This helped me be far less of a sail I usually am... Eric (my bike) and me were having as good a time as we could. I only saw one race marshall on the course, I think the rest were attending to cyclists who had got stuck. I saw one poor lady at the side of the road who looked like she was in absolute floods of tears. I got songs going round my head "Something inside so strong" and
Strong enough to walk on through the night
Into transition, which was heaving. I took this as a good sign that my swim was quick, or maybe it was just full of people making sure they'd put layers on before venturing out into the pouring rain. I'd packed arm warmers, a gilet AND a packable rain jacket and decided to put on the arm warmers and the rain jacket. Out into the rain, straight through a couple of puddles - wet feet already! - grab the bike and onto the mount line.
The bike - Never gonna let you down
Relive of the bikeSomeone said before we started "This is going to be less of a question of endurance and more one of survival". The rain was absolutely lashing it down. Within about 5 minutes my glasses had steamed up and were positively dangerous. I had to take them off and put them in my back pocket (that was the last I saw of them 😢). Thank goodness for contact lenses. The first part of the bike ride just seemed to be mostly climbing but I tried my best to keep pedalling. I was surprised to find I wasn't feeling nauseous and this time made a much better effort with my nutrition, eating when I felt low and drinking whenever my alarm went off. I never managed to finish my water bottle between stops though. The food helped and made me power on through. The amount of people that I saw stopped, sorting out punctures, freezing in cars and minibuses was something else. Almost every marshall or corner seemed to be complete with at least one bike and sad looking rider. The aid stations were inundated with cyclists who had given up. The marshalls and volunteers did an absolutely amazing effort standing out in those conditions for hours. I started to feel wet and cold myself. My feet were freezing, but I actually decided that freezing wet feet were better compared to burning feet that I experienced in Hamburg. I decided to take ownership. This was MY country, these were MY roads and this was MY kind of weather. It could have been hypothermia speaking, but it helped me. I was also grateful to my hours of experience of cycling commuting in the pouring rain. My coach had told me to go aero as much as possible in the blowing wind and, as I infamously don't have any aero bars, I just crouched as low as I could. This helped me be far less of a sail I usually am... Eric (my bike) and me were having as good a time as we could. I only saw one race marshall on the course, I think the rest were attending to cyclists who had got stuck. I saw one poor lady at the side of the road who looked like she was in absolute floods of tears. I got songs going round my head "Something inside so strong" and
Strong enough to walk on through the night
There's a new day on the other side
I have hope in my soul
I keep walking baby, I keep walking baby
I thought to myself, no walking today. Then I realised those were the lyrics to "Relight my fire" and had an ironic smile that the one thing I really wanted right then was a nice warm fire!
Over half way round the promise of sunshine started - very faint glimmers but it was better than nothing. Then came Revels Hill. I'd been warned about this hill but in the Strava segment it really didn't look that bad. Oh but it was. Oof, what a climb. In the end, I had to focus on the cat eyes in the middle of the road and go from one to the next. It worked though (thanks Scott for that tip!) and soon enough I could hear the clanging bells from the supporters at the top of the bad climb. Unfortunately the hill wasn't quite over and there was a bit more climbing to do - not as bad as the start though. Made it over, phew, it's all downhill from here - allegedly - and the sun was definitely coming out. Some really nice descents and a couple of small climbs (one where my chain shifted weirdly making me have to walk up to the top, sigh!) and soon enough we were back on the main road and back into transition. Hooray! Just over the 4 h mark, I'll take that. 3 and a half hours to do the half marathon in, I can do that.
In transition I discovered I no longer had my glasses but there wasn't any time to worry about that. I'd packed a spare pair of clean socks - top tip for transition folks - and it was so nice to get some dry socks and shoes on. Just time for my now traditional one pit stop and off out on the run.
My feet were still totally numb. They felt so weird I was convinced that I'd managed to mess around with my insoles and was almost going to check them until I realised I just needed to wait until my feet defrosted. I suffered for a good km until someone ran past me and said "You're doing really well! Do you need a gel?" and I realised what I needed was something to eat. The peanut bars that had saved me in Hamburg were stored in a special running bag that I'd bought specifically for the purpose after they made a rather nasty hole in my back at Hamburg! I started eating bits of peanut bar and visualizing Stuart at the end of the promenade shouting at me to keep running and that I was doing well (sadly he couldn't make it down with me). The support of the crowd was something else. I realised this is why I love these events, random people just shouting your name and encouraging you to the finish. I suffered round the first lap and then the paracetamol and the peanut bars started to kick in. I started to feel better and felt like I could pick up the pace. So I decided to push it a bit harder. I thought, I might regret this, but let's give it a go. The sun kept shining, the crowds kept cheering, the route was as flat as flat can be. My average speed came down (I managed a negative split for the second half of the half marathon, almost unknown for me!). The second loop came and went, I started to feel hot. Then I remembered Hamburg and this wasn't even close to that. I saw Adam and he told me to smile while he took a photo. I was hoping that the bit of peanut bar I'd just eaten wasn't going to show in the photo!
Round BustinSkin corner again, past the finish and back down the promenade. Last loop, thank goodness. Keep eating, drink at the aid stations, keep running. On my way back to the finish I start cheering the runners coming the other way - felt like there were quite a few people behind me, perhaps I won't be last this time. Back to BustinSkin corner for the last time, they were cheering so loud I decided to whirl my arms around to whip them up even further, what a cheer! Final straight to the finish, chuck some more cola down myself (I was very thirsty!) and over the line for a sub 8 h finish! Fastest time for a while! And a sub 3 h marathon. I was totally chuffed.
So, 7 years after my first Parkrun and 6 years after my first ever triathlon (super sprint!) it is time to hang up the trisuit for a while. This is not the end of my journey, more of a pause.
I have hope in my soul
I keep walking baby, I keep walking baby
I thought to myself, no walking today. Then I realised those were the lyrics to "Relight my fire" and had an ironic smile that the one thing I really wanted right then was a nice warm fire!
Over half way round the promise of sunshine started - very faint glimmers but it was better than nothing. Then came Revels Hill. I'd been warned about this hill but in the Strava segment it really didn't look that bad. Oh but it was. Oof, what a climb. In the end, I had to focus on the cat eyes in the middle of the road and go from one to the next. It worked though (thanks Scott for that tip!) and soon enough I could hear the clanging bells from the supporters at the top of the bad climb. Unfortunately the hill wasn't quite over and there was a bit more climbing to do - not as bad as the start though. Made it over, phew, it's all downhill from here - allegedly - and the sun was definitely coming out. Some really nice descents and a couple of small climbs (one where my chain shifted weirdly making me have to walk up to the top, sigh!) and soon enough we were back on the main road and back into transition. Hooray! Just over the 4 h mark, I'll take that. 3 and a half hours to do the half marathon in, I can do that.
In transition I discovered I no longer had my glasses but there wasn't any time to worry about that. I'd packed a spare pair of clean socks - top tip for transition folks - and it was so nice to get some dry socks and shoes on. Just time for my now traditional one pit stop and off out on the run.
The run - Never gonna run around and desert you
Relive of the runMy feet were still totally numb. They felt so weird I was convinced that I'd managed to mess around with my insoles and was almost going to check them until I realised I just needed to wait until my feet defrosted. I suffered for a good km until someone ran past me and said "You're doing really well! Do you need a gel?" and I realised what I needed was something to eat. The peanut bars that had saved me in Hamburg were stored in a special running bag that I'd bought specifically for the purpose after they made a rather nasty hole in my back at Hamburg! I started eating bits of peanut bar and visualizing Stuart at the end of the promenade shouting at me to keep running and that I was doing well (sadly he couldn't make it down with me). The support of the crowd was something else. I realised this is why I love these events, random people just shouting your name and encouraging you to the finish. I suffered round the first lap and then the paracetamol and the peanut bars started to kick in. I started to feel better and felt like I could pick up the pace. So I decided to push it a bit harder. I thought, I might regret this, but let's give it a go. The sun kept shining, the crowds kept cheering, the route was as flat as flat can be. My average speed came down (I managed a negative split for the second half of the half marathon, almost unknown for me!). The second loop came and went, I started to feel hot. Then I remembered Hamburg and this wasn't even close to that. I saw Adam and he told me to smile while he took a photo. I was hoping that the bit of peanut bar I'd just eaten wasn't going to show in the photo!
 |
| Smile Hilary! |
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| I finished and I didn't come last or even nearly last 😀 |
So, 7 years after my first Parkrun and 6 years after my first ever triathlon (super sprint!) it is time to hang up the trisuit for a while. This is not the end of my journey, more of a pause.
The End
(probably)
Thanks to
- Stuart who has put up with me coming in late, tired, hungry and often grumpy
- my coach Simon from Tri Force Endurance who seems to have managed to get me to not hate running
- the Greenwich Tritons, too many of you to mention, without whom I would never have got this far.
- work Microbiology Society, thanks for being flexible
