MidnightMan 2022: The Return

 So as you might (or probably not) remember I got COVID-19 at the start of April which totally flattened me. Over the month of July I started doing longer rides and hour long runs, as well as as much swimming as I could fit in, and gradually my fitness started to increase. I went into the quarter distance of MidnightMan thinking, it will be what it will be, I'll swim, bike and "run" and see how I get on.

The swim

The swim was my first mass start for three years. I wasn't really looking forward to this because I am not a big fan of mass starts, but actually it was absolutely fine, no washing machine dramas, I think someone did try to swim over my legs but I just kicked them away. As the water was 24.5 C it was no wetsuit for the quarter which was not an issue for me as I prefer to swim without my wetsuit! As we were waiting for the start, someone asked me where the red buoy was (the only buoy you have to turn left instead of right) so I told them it was round the corner out of sight. I believe this was Ron, who I ended up attempting to draft near the end of the swim. In my swim coaching I had been learning about timing your stroke to the other person's stroke so I was doing that on our way in to the finish. I have had the most horrible coldsore this week and it had turned into a big scab, and let me tell you trying to breathe out of your mouth in the water with a painful scab on your lip is not fun!

The bike

My transition went far better than usual, probably thanks to not having to faff around with taking my wetsuit off, and I set off on the bike with much cheering from the fabulous marshalls. A big thank you to them for cheering me on every time I came past! MidnightMan is a race with many many dead turns. I am not the greatest at these but at least this time I managed to do them all without having to put my foot out! It was a very warm night with a bit of a headwind as we went out onto Bob Dunn Way (oh Bob Dunn Way, I have not missed you!). They have had to cut the bottom loop short so we had to do 6 laps for the quarter distance. Let me tell you that was more than enough. I really felt for those who had to do the long distance of 26 laps. With four dead turns on every lap, and a nasty corner to get out onto Bob Dunn Way, it would be a lot. Every lap I would go past the main turning into the Bridge, where there was a truck trying its very best to block traffic, with one person trying really hard to drive over the grass so they could get through 😒. I would also go past a family who had these giant round glasses full of some green cocktail - I like to think it was mojito but who knows? I noticed on about my third lap that they were looking a bit empty so I told them it was time for a top up and the next time I went round they proudly told me that they'd got a top up 😂. We also had some idiot on a quad bike come down right the middle of the cyclists - seriously mate I mean... really? I had to stop half way to refill my hydration as I was so thirsty I'd drunk a whole bottle in about 45 minutes. Did I mention it was warm? I also had to tell both Sophie and Duncan that it was 6 laps for the bike... this is why you listen to the race briefing guys and not turn up just before the race starts hoping to wing it!! I kept looking out for Stuart, but every time I went past the transition point he'd disappeared. I got good cheers from the lovely marshalls though!

The run

I'd come into this race with the full intention of walking the run if I absolutely had to. In fact I only walked a little bit just after transition and then I spent most of the rest of the run at a "comfortable" jog. It was dark by this stage and kind of cooler - thankfully! I was very glad of my hydration pack that I'd put on at transition, so I could drink whenever I needed to. I still felt like I was overheating and was a bit jealous of the guys who had just taken off the top of their trisuits (although I'm pretty sure that's a DQ in the BTF rules!). I'd met not-Stuart in transition at the start of the race, and I called him not-Stuart because he'd introduced himself to me and then said that he could have been Stuart as that was the name of the person between us and that was the name I remembered 😂. Anyway I checked afterwards and his real name was Sean, so sorry not-Stuart/Sean for not remembering your name. I high-fived not-Stuart every time I saw him with a "Boom" for full effect. Dimitrij also came past me at full speed on his way to coming second in the half distance. My final lap included helping some guy out who decided to leave his bottle of water on top of his car (!) and the faster runners from the half distance coming past me with barely a "well done". Someone did say well done to me on the way out on my second lap and I think my response was "aaaauuuuhhh" clearly trying to form words at that point was hard work haha!

I feel proud of myself, but also know that I have a lot of work to do in order to be fast enough to finish Cascais in October. I'd like to thank Coach T, for making sure I didn't stay a blob on the couch post-Covid. And of course my lovely husband Stuart for giving up his evening to (apparently) cheer me on. Although he did walk with me on my first run lap back to transition. Finally, thanks to John for running the MidnightMan for the past 10 years and doing his very best to make it a great experience and very inclusive for everyone! Oh AND I wasn't last! In fact I came second in the female veterans over 40 group, out of three 😀

This isn't triathlon, this is DNFing with style

So a quick recap of this year so far: I decide to quit my job in favour of following my dreams as a triathlon coach, and then in the last month of my work I catch COVID (at a microbiology conference, #irony). My recovery from COVID has been a lot slower than I expected and it completely flattened me. I have lost a lot of stamina and been experiencing very annoying dizziness. One minute I was training for a marathon, the next I couldn't even walk to the local park and back.

So up to last week my training has been very softly softly gently gently. Finally last week I managed to cycle into town and back. I feel like I have turned a corner, but unfortunately not in time for Cotswolds 113. After discussion with my coach, we agreed that I would do the swim, one lap of the ride and, if I felt up to it, one lap of the run.

The day of the race dawned wet. I hardly slept at all, the place where we are staying has a very uncomfortable bed and the patter of rain just sounded like nails on the roof. I had to put all my transition stuff into a plastic bag. I had a sweet spot right at the end of the rack which meant I had a little more space to put my stuff and it was not hard at all to find my bike. 

The swim started wet. I tried to find somewhere to stay dry. I bumped into loads of people who said hi, which was lovely, AND I remembered something to eat pre-swim. The wait to start was pretty miserable with the rain but finally I set off into the much warmer water for my swim. The swim went as well as it could have done, I was trying to take it gently and not overdo it, and some parts felt like I was swimming really nicely. No nasty weeds after the previous day's surfing over horrid green mounds. I finished the swim in 54:25, which according to Strava is only 9 seconds slower than last year, so I'm really pleased with that! No goggle leaks, no swim cap issues, all good.

Into transition and it took me forever to put my stuff on for the bike. I don't know if I was tired, or wet, or cold, or a combination of all of these. I was clearly following the Gary method of transition, all I needed was a sofa. Onto the bike, could not get comfortable, my trisuit got caught around my saddle and I had to readjust down the road. The bike was pretty miserable all things considered. I felt like I was carrying a lead weight around with me and it was only later on in the bike that I figured that I hadn't put the blasted front wheel on properly and the brakes were rubbing. Sorry Mark, I failed. I did get to see Stuart on the bike who was marshalling in some place in the middle of nowhere that seemed pretty lonely, poor bloke. Alex came past me and shouted "We need to find a new sport!". Well that's easier said than done for someone who's just given up everything to invest themselves into this very specific sport. I had to stop to catch my breath and stretch (I'd forgotten quite how painful it was to sit on a bike for over two hours) a couple of times, always catching the concern of the marshalls. The one great thing about this race is the marshalls, they are always lovely and full of cheer and support. Thank you.

I was so glad I only had to do one lap and I didn't have to sit on my bike for another two plus hours. The only issue with coming in early was that all the fast people were out on the run course. They took my timing chip off me when I declared I was coming in early, so I got to my spot and prepared to pack up. However a marshall saw me and managed to convince me that I could still do at least part of the run even minus my timing chip. So, after I'd put everything away, I took out my trainers and went out... almost forgetting my bib as I went. Lots of people were trying to cheer me on on the run but they didn't know that I was essentially maxed out by that stage. The other issue is that the run is really narrow in places, and you remember I said I was out with the faster runners? Yeah I got in their way. Obviously. Sorry... The run was hard, and I spent a lot of time walking. When I got to the first turn point I asked if I could go back to transition after explaining I'd already DNF'd (I know that's not a word, but 🤷). I plodded round the final corner, past transition, and that was the end of my race. Just in time for Stuart to have finished his duties and we could go home.

I didn't really know how to feel after the race, apart from exhaustion (I spent the rest of the afternoon asleep!). I just hope this is the start of the rebuild of my fitness. A total refresh.

Cotswolds 113 2021: What's love got to do with it?

Before I start my race report, a few things happened before this race. Firstly, I pulled/tore my calf back in March, resulting in me only getting up to 10k a couple of weeks ago. Secondly, my race bike decided to dissolve on itself meaning I had to get a new bike a month before my race. Which I only had measured to fit a week before the race. I also had massive bike anxiety, even on my old faithful commuter bike, mostly due to angry London drivers.

So here we were, race day. I'd slept badly the night before, even worse after the slats on the bed decided to fall off for no particularly good reason. I was very anxious. What was I doing here and who was I kidding? It was great to see the Team Twinkle ladies though and I got a lovely hug or two. It was a very grey cloudy day and I noticed a lot of people had covered their shoes etc over so I took a spare plastic bag and my waterproof swim bag and covered mine over too.

I chatted to some lovely Twinkle ladies I'd not met before at the start and then it was time to go. Too late, my stomach rumbled and I realised I'd not eaten my protein bar before my swim. Sorry coach, that was stupid. As I got into the water, my foot caught a rough piece of stone and scraped all the way up my Achilles. Ouch. 

I absolutely hated the swim - I say this as a lifelong swimmer and someone who will willingly swim in the sea, the local lido, the docks etc. I think the lack of food (since a small pot of porridge in the early hours) really didn't help. I spent most of my time with the song "I'm outta love" going round my head, cursing myself for entering this race, and seriously considering leaving triathlon and never training or coaching again. I did eventually realise that the reason I was grumpy was because I was hungry and was determined to grab some nutrition when I got to the bike. I got round, a little bit of argy bargy round the buoys, and finally to Shouty Dave at the exit helping us out of the water. Swim done in 50 minutes, definitely room for improvement there.

Into transition, and time to get on with the bike. As I said above, I only got my new bike, Bob, four weeks ago. For the first time, things seemed to click and we motored along at what is a pretty respectable pace for me - I've definitely got more speed in me so I need to work on this too. The bike was absolutely miserable - drizzle pretty much all the way. I say this every time, but I always bring terrible weather. Rain, wind, or baking heat, not very much in the middle. This time was the drizzle, descending to proper rain at one stage. I had the song "Desperado" going round my head, "Desperado, why don't you come to your senses, ... you better let somebody love you, before it's too late"  I ate and drank as much as I could on the bike even though my nutrition did get a bit soggy by the end... I even had to stop to refill my water bottle and had a couple of concerned cyclists go past and ask if I was OK. I had this nifty cycle saddle that you can adjust but the issue is it seems to self adjust mid ride so I had to get off at the aid station and get a nice man with a set of Allen keys to readjust it. Thankfully it stayed in place for the rest of the ride, but I'm not best pleased with it. I didn't have to stop as much as last year and actually managed to overtake some people near the end.  It was great to see Helen out on the race course after last year, and Stuart near the start, for some much needed cheering.

Shuffling on the run

And finally on to the run, my legs refused to work (not enough brick training?). I shuffled round to Stuart, by which stage I had started to hyperventilate. I told him I wasn't sure I could carry on, but he encouraged me to keep going. Off I shuffled, like some kind of loon, everyone coming past me including Angela who I'd come into transition with. I got my breathing under control, but then a familiar pain started. My calf was acting up. By the time I got back to Stuart, I wasn't sure if I should continue and risk further injury. I decided to take a couple of paracetamol and continue going. The finish line was absolutely rammed with spectators - a big change from last year where they weren't allowing people to cheer us on - and you were hit with a wall of noise as you went past. I saw Tracey and told her about my calf and she said that we always knew it was going to be an issue. Onto the second lap, and it was starting to get a bit quieter. Also the sun started to come out - it ALWAYS comes out on the run, and then you boil after freezing for hours. Past Stuart, more soggy hugs and kisses (poor bloke). Got more cheers from Twinkles including "by far our favourite scientist"...  I met this lovely lady called Jo from Celtic Tri who I ran/walked with for a while. I realised that some of my pain in my leg was actually due to the graze I'd gathered earlier on in the day when getting into the lake (rolls eyes)... The paracetamol was doing its job so it didn't hurt so much. I was surprised when I caught up with Angela and passed her as I thought she would have been finished way ahead of me, but she admitted later that she went off too quick and faded about half way around. My feet started to hurt and I suspected blisters but I kept plodding on until somehow I was on the final lap, it was getting quieter but I caught up with Jo again and we spent a good couple of km keeping each other going. Back through the little village and someone said "Oh I thought you were last" I said "I probably am" but there were people behind me. The marshalls were amazing again and I really appreciate their support. I had made it to the end, with barely enough energy to raise my arms in joy at the finish.

And I finally got to go back to bed as I promised myself and have a nice snooze

London Marathon: a step too far

 So as we know this year has been full of cancellations and postponements for races. For someone who likes to enter races throughout the year it has been disappointing. Thus when the opportunity to enter the virtual London marathon came along I jumped at the chance. It was two weeks after my middle distance race, that should be training enough right? 

Oh Hilary. 

I planned a run down the Thames path, which was nice and flat, and using the route planner I figured I had to run from my house to the Oxo building and back to get to finish at Woolwich. 

The weather report was pretty grim, so I set myself up for the morning with a gilet and arm warmers. I also had my husband put physio tape round my arms where it had rubbed two weeks before and hadn't healed quite yet. 

I planned to leave at 7am and I think I was a couple of minutes late. Out the door into the rain for a very very long day. 

Ready to go out

The first bit of my run down the hill I felt warm and wondered if I'd over layered.  That was the only time I felt warm. It may have been early but there were already others out there. I saw one lady who was going to Grove Park and two Danson runners before I turned off towards Galleons Reach. I was glad that I had done a recce the week before so I knew the way to the Thames path.  I ran past the statues and wondered how long it would be before I saw them again. Out of Woolwich, down past the old Siemens buildings and the climbing wall, then on past the Thames barrier. Lots of faster runners were coming past me by this stage. The wind was really strong and the rain was just coming down. 

The route onto the peninsula began with several very large puddles. It was either attempt to climb around them or just wade through them. I just waded through, my feet getting soaked. The path was very narrow so I had to let runners and cyclists go by me. On went the wind and the rain. I knew that my husband was waiting for me at the O2 which pushed me on. Poor Stuart couldn't use his umbrella because of the wind. Finally I saw him. I was about 10 minutes late at this stage. I grabbed some water and coke and carried on. It was such a nice surprise to go past Ed's group of runners on my way round the peninsula to Greenwich. On went the wind and rain, through the puddles on through the narrow Thames path to Greenwich. Greenwich was a hive of activity and runners despite the rain and I got lots of cheers on my way through. 

Out of Greenwich, through Deptford and past an old friend's flat in Rotherhithe. At this point my phone starts going a bit mad (because of the rain) and decided on its own to call the emergency number. Suddenly I'm being asked if I need an ambulance. I felt so bad for the misdial. On went the wind and rain. The Thames path goes a bit fiddly at this stage, but I was joined by fellow Triton Ruth who showed me the straighter route. Thanks to Ruth, who sadly left me to get some drink, I managed to find the end of the run I used to do from work to Canada Water. Now I was on more familiar ground, I ran through Rotherhithe, past Tom and Rachel which was lovely, and on through the wind and the rain until I got to Tower Bridge. I tried at this point to get my phone out to send a message to my husband but it was wet and the touchscreen wasn’t working properly. After several futile attempts, I managed to send him a message that said “London beDGE3”. I meant London Bridge, although I hadn’t got there yet. There were lots of other runners and walkers in ponchos all doing the marathon as well, it was amazing with the weather. 

Finally I got to London Bridge, and I saw Ruth coming the other way. She’d managed to pass me somewhere where the path goes close to the river while she did the more straight version. She told me I didn’t have far to go to get to the OXO tower, where I’d arranged to meet Stuart. Everything was hurting by that stage. I was wet, cold, miserable, and wondering why I’d got myself into this. Past the Tate building and the Millennium bridge, oh London it’s been a long time. Finally, there was the OXO building and Stuart waiting in the shelter. I’m not ashamed to say I burst into tears when I saw him. It was so utterly miserable, my body was starting to hurt badly, and I just wanted to go home and stop torturing myself. Stuart gently reminded me that I could do this, that I was doing it for charity, and that I’d hate myself if I gave up. So, I pulled myself together, grabbed another glug of coke, filled up my water bottles clumsily with slightly frozen hands, and started the hobble back to Greenwich. 

Over half way, cold, wet, fed up

When I say hobble I mean it. My hip has always given me gyp when I do longer distances and because I hadn’t trained for the marathon it was particularly bad. I’d given myself a walk/run schedule, but my shuffle back was more limp/walk rather than run/walk. I shuffled back the way I’d came, passing Ed and her merry group of runners which was another cheering moment, but also by a guy who shouted at me “Stop running! You’re going to give yourself a stroke!” which was a concerning moment! I was messaging my friend Thea and husband when I got a chance, but because my phone had gone bonkers all I could send was messages in CAPITAL LETTERS so I’m sorry about all the shouting… Luckily I’d taken a spare charger in a plastic case and my phone hadn’t got to the “I’m too wet to charge” state yet so I could charge my phone while I ran/walked/hobbled. On went the wind and the rain, the other runners and walkers coming past me. Finally I got to Greenwich. I was wildly later than I said I would be (because I was hobbling) so my poor husband was waiting super patiently back at the O2. I’d also wildly overestimated my distance so I was nearly at 40km when I got to Greenwich. Back out of Greenwich I went, through the puddles, chatting to some random runner who wasn’t doing the marathon but was still running in the horrendous weather (why???). I hobbled on, unable to run now, getting to the O2, but it always seemed to never get any closer. I was in a LOT of pain by this stage, every step was torture. Past the golfing range (all the golfers tucked under a nice roof!), and there was the O2. Step by painful step I got there, and there was my poor saturated husband who had been waiting some time for me to turn up. I literally had maybe half a kilometre to go before I’d done the marathon distance. However, looking at the marathon app, it seemed to think I had at least a mile. Stuart agreed to walk with me to my friend Thea who was waiting for me nearer the Thames Barrier. So I had to continue, step by agonising step, finishing the marathon, and then carrying on walking towards the Thames Barrier. I just wanted to go home. I’d had enough of the wind, the rain, the pain, I wanted to get dry and warm again. But it was so lovely to see Thea who’d made a special effort to come out and cheer me on. Plus the extra distance I did meant that the app thought I’d finished the marathon as well, although about 20 minutes later than I actually had. 

I swore I would never enter another marathon again. And, nearly a month later, I’m still dealing with the after effects of running at least 10km on an injured IT band.

Finally finished!

It took a month for my medal to arrive, which was weird when I got the medal and you’re not sweaty and horrible.

Cotswolds 113 - If you're going through hell, keep going

 Last year - who knows when - there was a discussion on the TeamTwinkle page about doing Cotswolds 113. It was due to run in June and had a good deferral policy if for some reason we couldn't do it. I was going to say it was the only event this year I had booked, but then I remembered Brighton Marathon, and the Dart 10k.... never mind

Anyway, of course we know what happened next. Pandemic, lockdown, cancellation after cancellation of events. Cotswolds 113 was pushed back to September. I stopped training for a bit, couldn't swim, stuck my bike on the turbo trainer and didn't really push myself as much as I should have. In fact, most of my training was pretty much not pushing myself as hard as I should have, with runs in zone 2 resulting in pretty much half being walking.

My husband and I had decided to take the week before off as holiday and we spent a lovely week in surprisingly warm sunny Fairford. I'd convinced him to bring his bike along so we did a bit of a recce of some of the course before which helped my confidence a bit (after spending so much time on the turbo it takes me a bit of getting used to being back on the road again).  Unfortunately on the Friday my husband came off his bike just as we were setting off down the road so he spend most of Friday at the Great Western Hospital. Thankfully he didn't break anything but he was very bruised, battered and got nasty concussion, poor chap.

On race day, we had to vacate our property in the morning. So we were up at 4:30, making sure we'd taken everything with us, and packed up the car ready for the day ahead. We got to the car park in good time, and it was still dark. I of course hadn't packed a head torch but thankfully our phone torches just about worked so I could get the bike back together and set off towards transition. With the new COVID procedures in place, I had to state that I hadn't had any symptoms within the last two weeks and get temperature checked. That done, I could go into transition and start setting up. The guy next to me started chatting to me and told me that this was his first triathlon. He wandered off around the time I started admonishing my bike for being a pain (sometimes when I put the wheel in it doesn't run smooth). I can't be the only one who talks to their bike, right? 

Transition all set up

With my transition set up I was trying to feed myself through the mask which was kind of working (!) and I put my wetsuit on. I somehow managed to stretch the cap they had given us so it would actually fit on my (stupidly large) head and walked to transition. I watched the earlier waves go off, every 10 seconds, and noted how some were leaving their sandals at the start so they didn't have to walk over the stony ground. I decided to do the same, but forgot to set up my watch, which meant I got in the way while I was starting it up (oops!).

The swim - I really don't miss mass starts

The lake was a good temperature, but it was pretty cool outside so the swim was a bit on the chilly side. It was nice not to have to attempt to fight everyone during the mass start and didn't feel like I was crowded at all at any point in the swim. Of course you then don't know where you are in the race but given I was pretty confident I'd be near the end it was nice to see a line of yellow hats behind me. Water was a little choppy in places but I've definitely experienced worse. My swim line shows a pretty straight line through the course although it was slow, I'm pretty happy with my effort.

Out of the water and into a "neutralised" transition - they gave you 10 minutes of essentially free time to change and get your bike out to try and reduce the amount of contact you might have with other competitors. Thankfully my bike was sitting on its own so I didn't have to wait to get to it. Off on the bike course...

The bike - That feckin wind

And onto the bike I got. It's fair to say I've had two outings on my bike this year outdoors post lockdown, neither of which were anywhere near long enough, and usually involved a bit of stopping and resting (even had cake in the middle of one!). So I was nowhere near prepared for the ordeal of 90km on terrible roads and with a headwind that was absolutely unrelenting. I spent the first half of the ride freezing and then it started to warm up. I refilled my water bottle at 30 and 60 km, let myself have a couple of minutes rest, and kept going. It was awful. About half way round I was already in agony, my backside felt like it was being tortured by the saddle, and by 50km I was ready to cry. Every lump on the road (and there were many!) was another descent into misery. So many people came past me cheering me on - I had my TeamTwinkle suit on - that was a special bit of the day. The marshalls were brilliant too. I'd convinced myself I'd get to 60 km and stop and have a word with myself. The far turnaround point was about that so I stopped and had a chat to the marshalls. After filling up my water bottle and getting going again, I did feel better, even if my bike did feel like a red hot poker on my backside (I think I need a new saddle!). The last few kilometers were just awful, searing pain, sore top of back, hot weather, endless lumps on the road (you could see others had suffered with many water bottle "casualties" at the side of the road) and I was just fed up  of the wind. I demanded a kiss off my poor husband as I came past his marshalling spot to keep me going and then I did the final TT section, and finally got on the road to transition. Which was far longer than I remembered. I felt like I was nearly last by that stage, although there were a couple of others behind me. The bliss of being able to get to the dismount line and finally off the torture device that was my bike was like nothing else. I really needed more time outside on the bike this year.

The run - if you're going through hell, keep going

Through "neutralized" transition again, and on to the run. By this stage any semblance of cold had well and truly disappeared and it was HOT. I mean, not Hamburg hot, but hot enough. The fact that I didn't need to use the toilet at all between swim and the end of my run (about 7 hours of exercise) suggests that I was very dehydrated, which is probably why I couldn't get my legs going at all. That and the endless runs in zone 2 resulted in a desultory run which was poor even for me. The first lap was quite busy, with quite a few still on the course, and loads of people coming past me, more Twinkle support (thanks guys!). I was really pleased I'd taken my running pack so I could carry a bottle of Tailwind and a bottle of coke with me. The run seemed to involve lots of the lake that we'd previously swum in, an interminable stretch down to Somerford Keynes, most of which was in the burning sunshine, and on the first lap there were several people cheering us on all the time eating ice cream! Gah! I managed to shuffle round the first lap somehow, then got past the finish line where my husband and several Twinks were waiting. Again the support from the marshalls was absolutely brilliant. At some point the Twinkle behind me overtook me and offered to help with my running but I shoo'd her on. She finished well before I did. The second lap was interminable, again round the lake, again down the hot hot road towards Somerford Keynes, and finally to the aid station. I asked them if they'd still be there when I came around again, and they reassured me they'd be waiting for me. I threw more water down my throat, refilled my water bottle, threw water over myself and kept on going. I was half way, even if everyone kept saying "Nearly there now" I knew I still had over an hour of running to go. It was hell. Again. Someone came past me telling me they had only a km and a half to go, but of course I didn't, I had another lap. Finally, I get to the finish line (you could hear it from a mile away!) and started on my final lap. Got past transition, wondering how many bikes would be left by the time I came around again, then started off on my final lap. It was about this stage a very lovely marshal called Helen decided to join me on my shuffle/stumble/pootle. She was walking so fast that she didn't have to run beside me to keep up with me. I can't really remember much of what she was talking to me about (or prattling on, as she insisted) but it really helped me round my final lap. To my amazement she joined me for the entire 7 km or whatever it was. Soon enough there was a mountain biker behind us with a Cotswold t-shirt on and I knew I must be last or nearly last. It took me back to Edinburgh where I had a whole cohort following me on my last lap. So on we went, step by very slow step, round the lake, through the trees, on to the burning hot road that never ended to Somerford Keynes. I showed Helen the way and noticed the roads seemed to have lost a lot of the marshalls (there were only a few of us left on the course by that stage). Thankfully the water station was still there so I was able to get my last sploosh over the head with water and back round through the lovely village. As Helen was a maths teacher (or newly ex-teacher) she was able to do the calculations of how much further we had to go, so first it was 5 km ("just a Parkrun"), then it was 3 km, then just over 1 km... on the final stretch I seemed to find something from somewhere and actually got Helen running as I got to the finish line. Over I went, elated and totally and utterly spent.

Finished!

Sheer bloody mindedness

Warning - this blog contains bad language!

Midnightman 2019 race report "Sheer bloody mindedness"

This is Hilary.

Hilary is several stone overweight (no really).

Hilary may just be possibly the worst triathlete ever and often comes last. Although, it seems this tenacity seems to inspire others.

Hilary is supposed to be on a sabbatical from racing. However, I have completed the London Marathon, the Great South 4k swim, Bridge Triathlon standard distance, Dock2Dock 5k swim and the London Triathlon Olympic Plus. I've decided that the sabbatical never really started.

Hilary is about to win the Greenwich Tritons female club champion.

Hold the phone - how does that work? Well it seems that no other women had entered the middle distance. 

Enter Sophie Johnson, also Greenwich Triton. Well, it was never going to be that easy.

Midnightman is a very unusual race. It starts at 6 in the evening and goes on through the night. It takes place on a mixture of industrial estate and housing. The bike route takes you up and down the highway and part of the housing estate. 

So we got there a little close to time but I had very few nerves. This is unusual for me, but I think after three Bridge events and one previous Midnightman, the place makes me feel at ease. We all stood around at the water's edge, not wanting to be the next one in and having to tread water while waiting for the start. My cap was extremely small - I have a very large head and struggle occasionally with caps but this one I had to squeeze my hair into!

We did get into the water, where we bobbed for a bit before starting. Clearly some of my friends hadn't been listening to the race brief because several of them asked where we were swimming. Sigh. We set off and started swimming. I had managed to get my new wetsuit on slightly more comfortably (having only previously swum in it once and it felt like a torture device!) and was swimming better than I had been. I did almost get swum over once or twice but I don't go down without a fight so I batted them off. About half way round I thought my goggles were about to come off and they were leaking a bit so I readjusted the strap. It was then that I figured it was my stupid cap trying to come off. Previously I have tried to stop and put the cap back on, but this time I was like, nah that'll waste time. So most of the second lap my cap was held in place only to the back of my head by my goggles. The only problem was, bits of my hair kept coming into my face so it was harder to sight!

My cross country friend Geraldine had a good laugh at my cap flapping off the back of my goggles as I got out of the water. Into transition I went, got myself ready and off on the bike... once I'd managed to clip myself in. Because of the wind, they'd had to cut the loops short so instead of 10 laps we had to do 13... unlucky for some. It was windy out there. Every time we went out onto the highway, the wind sucked the energy out of you and you were left in a fight against an invisible beast. I saw lots of Tritons out on the course, and they cheered me on as I went past. About 20 km and 5 laps in, I hit a very dark place. I started to wonder why I'd decided to enter this race. My reverie was broken by Sophie pinching my backside as she sped past, which gave me a bit of a fright and I might have had a bit of a go at her! The next time she went past me she told me that she was going to be doing the aquabike - thus making me once again the only female Triton in the race, thus the champ if I finished. This perked me up no end and brought me out of my dark place.

A few laps later was my encounter with the Dickless Wonder. He was driving a Range Rover or Landrover so I reckon he was overcompensating for something. So this guy drives up on the fast lane of the dual carriageway, window open, and proceeds to harrass me. He was shouting about my fat arse or me coming last, I don't know which but he thought it was really amusing. What a twat. I'd like to see him try doing this race. My anger and irritation at this kept me going for several more laps. The last few laps were more and more painful and by the time lap number 13 came up I couldn't wait to get off my bike. I was pleased with my ride though, I got round far more of the dead turns than I had previously without putting my feet down :)

On to the run then. It was about 11 pm by that stage and very dark. The route was very quiet with only the very occasional runner out there. My husband told me afterwards many had dropped out because of the weather. I pootled along, cheering anyone who came past me. I was mildly confused by everyone running back towards me until I figured out that the run went out and back again. I jogged on and on, passing my car, some fields and back to the housing estate. It was so dark and so quiet. There were some lovely ladies down by the hotel who were cheering us on and of course every time I went past the main transition area everyone cheered me on. After the first lap I realised that I had four laps to run not three - dammit! Every lap got quieter and lonelier. Third lap was the wildlife lap - including a rabbit that was taking its life into its own hands messing around the roundabout!

The full distance crazy people were starting to go past me. This included the very Aussie Australian. Also one lady who came past me who seemed to be running with her daughter (did someone say no outside assistance?!?). Some even had torches on their heads, one so bright I was temporarily blinded. Every time I went past my car I imagined it was cheering me on. Finally it was time for the final lap, Les who has cheered me on for several triathlons ran out with me to my final lap, and off I went back round the back and the dark and quiet. Round past the office buildings, past the end of the main road, then back out to the dark. Past the industrial estate, then past the quiet buildings and then some poor man came past me with a sore TFL. He walked with me (I was clearly jogging really slowly) for a few minutes before running on. All I had to do was finish. There was the finish straight, my poor husband waiting for me, cheering me on, and finally the finish line.

I finished in just under 8 hours. So everyone, please may I present the Greenwich Tritons female club champion for middle distance 2019. I won by default, but I was the only lady Triton to finish the distance. I do feel a bit like a cheater but I can't lie I'm incredibly proud of this achievement.

Pain is just the French word for bread: London Marathon 2019

Other triathletes: "Doing a stand-alone marathon will be a walk in the park after Ironman"

Physio: "Hilary your knee is very swollen. I don't think you should run the marathon"

Colleague: “Have you done a marathon before?” Me, slightly sheepishly: “Only as part of an Ironman”

Ah, London marathon. I must have applied every year since I joined the Tritons - 5 or 6 years, each time to get the "sorry" letter through the post. Every year the Tritons also get a place so I apply for that too. This year when my name came up it was a bit of a surprise - I never win anything!

So after several months of irregular running and the odd Parkrun I threw myself into a training plan. Three times a week, quickly working up to 16km. The niggle in my knee started to niggle more than ever. My piriformis became an issue again. Then came the discussion with the physio about not doing the marathon. But it was my dream. I'd overdone it, and had to rest. Then came the worst flu I'd had for a while. I was out for a month.

Thus I had one month left to train, could I still do this run? My coach friend Jim looked dubious but gave me a plan anyway. I then had the interesting job of trying to fit in long runs around conference season. I came home from Belfast on a Thursday night, ran 25km on Friday, then Saturday morning I was off to Amsterdam at the crack of dawn! If it wasn't for training I would have missed the most beautiful lake in Amsterdam just as the sun was setting.

The days before the marathon were as manic as usual but I managed to get my run number on Wednesday at the expo. Oh, I thought, maybe I'll have a massage while I'm here. Thus proceeded one of the most painful half hours of my life. He seemed concerned that I was very tight and I'm not sure if he helped at all!

The day of the race dawned cold as they predicted. I caught my bus and train to Blackheath and joined the crowds walking to the start. Dropping off my bag I saw fellow Triton Julie and she gave me a hug and wished me luck. I also saw Simon, a friend's husband who had somehow jammily got into the marathon on his first ballot.

They'd instructed us to be there at least an hour before we started so there was a lot of waiting around in the cold before we could get started. Eventually I made my way to my zone just after a final comfort break and found the 5:45 pacing team. Apparently pacing runners above 5h were a new thing this year as they discovered 30% of runners finished after 5 hours.

We got colder as we waited to start. My fingers went white. We plodded towards the start gantry and we were on our way!

It was the weirdest thing running down the middle of the road that I normally drive down. The crowds were out and cheering. I instantly regretted not having my name on my top. Within about 10 minutes I'd decided to go ahead of the 5:45 pacers and run at a comfortable speed. There were many signs, one of which read:

You're running slower than Brexit

I thought that was a bit rude! There were loads of kids with their arms held out so I gave many hi 5s at the start. Spotting Stuart on my way past Woolwich, I gave him a hug and went on my way.

Thea had said the road from Woolwich to Rotherhithe took forever but because it's a cycle route home for me it wasn't that bad. I was very amused that the preacher from Woolwich town centre had decided to preach to us from the side of the road as we left Woolwich! I took water at every station I got to. I'd made super strength Tailwind in my bottles and kind of regretted it because it didn't taste good. There was a multitude of sweets on offer from the crowds with some people even holding strawberry laces in the middle of the road! By Rotherhithe I'd almost caught up with the 5h 30 pacers, I could see them in the distance. However, as I got to the end of the Rotherhithe loop, the good old hip problems started to kick in. I looked at the time and grabbed a couple of paracetamol. The pacers disappeared into the distance.

You're running faster than the government

We got to the stretch before Tower Bridge and I was excited. I'd been told the Bridge was an experience, and I wasn't disappointed. I felt very emotional with this wall of noise and cheering going on around me. It was something else. Onwards and where was half way? Nicely they'd put a sign saying Half way on the side of the road. 2h 44, I'll take that. Tried to ignore the runners on the other side running the other way who were many many miles in front of us. It was around this point I went past Simon, but I wasn't sure if it was him and was focused on my own world of pain. Down through the back of Canary wharf the first 5h 45 pacer came back past me. I tried to keep up but I was just too tired to run that fast. I needed (or wanted!) to walk. Then I saw him go to the urinal so thought maybe he was pacing a bit faster!

I informed the ladies who didn't know where we were that we were going through the Isle of Dogs and slowly but surely the 25 mile marker came up. Thea had said she was going to be around there, but I couldn't see her. Then I remembered she'd be by Mudchute and there she was, with her mother and my promised banana! Then a short while later I saw Alex, Caroline and Rich and Lucy. They said I was running well so I pulled a face that has now become my favourite photo!

Soon after the other 5h 45 pacer came past. He was doing run/walk so I managed to keep up with him for a while longer, but soon enough I was struggling to keep up. Through the crowds at Canary Wharf we went and then onto what I reckon is the worst bit of the course, Blackwall. You still have 10k left to go, everything hurts and it's not as popular. It was around this point I switched my phone on to message and Bluetooth and sent a message to the WhatsApp group tracking us. I got several messages telling me to keep going which was very motivating!

I was pretty much hobbling by this stage, my hip had seized up and the red 6h marker came past me. Once again I tried to keep up but I just didn't have the speed. Through the back end of Wapping I only had a vague idea where we were but it just never seemed to end. Where was the Embankment? Several onlookers declared that my trousers were the best they’d seen all day.

You’re running faster than Brexit

(really? I thought I was slower!)

We got to the final big Lucozade aid station, the one with the weird Lucozade-filled algae pods. I tried a couple but I wasn’t convinced by the algae pods so threw them down on the ground. Every single Lucozade station was either really slippery afterwards or really sticky (yuk!). Helen, one of my tall friends, was helping out at the aid station and shouted at me and I gave her a hug.

On to the Embankment, and the crowds started building again. It seemed to take forever to get from London Bridge to Waterloo and I was definitely limping, someone even asked me if I was OK. There was Waterloo and Thea and her mother again – thanks guys for your support – and finally onto the home straight and Westminster. 1 km to go to the end. The 6 h pacers came up behind me. Uh oh, I thought, I don’t want to go above 6 hours. Better try to speed up. Somehow I managed to drag some speed out of my poor aching body and I ran along St James’ Park, 600 m to go, 400 m to go, turn the corner and there’s the Mall and the finish line! Straight across the finish line and I am done! 5h 59! I was so happy to complete in under 6 hours.

It was the best weather to do a marathon in. It was the best city to do a marathon in. My only regret is not cutting my toenails before the race, so my right toe which is susceptible to turning black did a right number on me and got a very bad toenail haematoma… Would I do it again? Nah. I had to give up swimming and cycling for far too long and thus I reckon my stand-alone marathon days are over. Probably.

Weymouth 70.3 - if it were easy, it wouldn't be Ironman

After the disappointment of being cut off at Barcelona earlier this year I really wanted to do another Ironman-branded 70.3 and finish. I was wary, though. After IM Copenhagen I got very bad piriformis syndrome and couldn't train properly for months. However, this year, once IM Hamburg was over, I didn't want to lose my fitness and Weymouth was my next target. For this race I had three aims:

• 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.

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.

The bike - Never gonna let you down

Relive of the bike
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 

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.

The run - Never gonna run around and desert you

Relive of 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!

Smile Hilary!

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.

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 

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.