Spectating at Ironman 70.3 UK, 2013 - Through the Looking Glass

A couple of weekends ago I had the honour of taking Mrs to Exmoor so she could race the 2013 Ironman 70.3 UK event. A swim in Wimbleball Lake followed by two hilly bike loops and a hilly trail run. Often called "the toughest 70.3 in the world" this was where our journey began last year. No racing for me yet, so this was an opportunity to see an Ironman event from the other side, as a spectator.

We stayed at The Anchor Inn again, assured of a friendly welcome from proprietors Ann and John. Sat in the tiny village of Exebridge it's right on the boundary between Somerset and Devon and just a few miles from Wimbleball Lake, nexus of the weekend's Ironman 70.3 action. Ann and John had just taken tenancy last time we visited, prior to that the pub had been left to decay by the previous proprietors. They had big plans and it was lovely to see so much positive change in the building and grounds despite some of the work being catalysed by terrible flooding in the area last year. There were certainly more patrons than a year ago, and a good deal of local custom that was conspicuous by its absence last year - they're clearly going in the right direction.

The Anchor Inn, Exebridge (and Mrs, rocking the Thames Turbo windproof top)

The drive down was uneventful - the car knows the way on its own now. Last year we were taking Thursday to Tuesday off work as the amount of organisation and recovery we needed was largely unknown. We decided fairly quickly that this year we'd do a more tactical strike and travel down Friday and return to London Monday to conserve precious holiday time. We stopped off at the lake to register on our way in and bumped into some old friends including many of the Ironman team we had met last year - Laura Beecroft (pro athlete liaison) was working the merchandise tent so we stopped to talk to her, Paul the race referee, and photographer James Mitchell who stayed at the Anchor Inn when he was covering last year's event for Ironman and Compressport. Kevin Stewart, Managing Director of World Endurance UK (the boss!), pulled up alongside us to say "hi". He was in a chatty mood, possibly because it was one of the rare moments without his earpiece chattering at him,  and we discussed the commemorative bags they had secured for this year's 70.3 events. We concluded they were much better than the drawstring bags of last year. I was very pleased to see he drives an Audi, +1 for that.

Registration

Ironmaning will be done here, and soon...

Friday evening we hooked up with Ironman MC Paul Kaye, his wife Kelly, Ironman announcer Joanne Murphy, fellow Ultimate Challengers and very experienced Ironman competitors Kate and Charlie Stannett - Kate made it through to the end, Charlie missed the bike cut-off at IM UK (I passed him at the end of my third lap and he still had one to go, and I was already six and a half hours on the bike). We were also joined by head Medic at the Ironman events Rob Ashton.

I felt privileged to know these people (at dinner, and the ones we bumped into during the day) and spend some time with them. They are some of the key players in making Ironman work in the UK, and made us realise just how atypical our last year was. Going for the Ultimate Challenge got us well known, and some good friends in the process.

Friday night and the pub was very loud until 2am. I remembered from last year and brought some earplugs - but I couldn't be bothered to fetch them. I hoped Mrs was sleeping OK - turns out she went off in moments and didn't hear a thing.

Saturday was about a quick swim practice in the cold of Wimbleball Lake - I'm told it was warmer than it looks, but I wasn't convinced as I stood on the shoreline shivering. Mrs had packed her transition bags the night before, and we dropped those off and racked her bike. I sat in the café while Mrs went for the compulsory race briefing. Even though it was aimed at first-timers she went to the morning briefing - it saved us coming back later in the day.

Emergency cuppa required!

Weather was cold and increasingly rainy. Lots of nervous faces around. The forecast said rain for race-day, but not until mid-day. By that time Mrs should be on the run and weather would matter less. We had a wander round the expo, but it was fairly poor. It certainly feels like an afterthought with no real facilities for the exhibitors. Compared with the fully enclosed water and windproof tent that the Ironman merchandise shop was in, everyone else was quite literally out in the cold. It's a fair bet there will be bad weather at some point - can we get an additional big tent for smaller exhibitors to share? It was too windy and rainy even to talk to most of them, with everyone seeking shelter from the sudden showers. This is not a good experience for anyone.

Carol said rain was coming, but not until lunchtime

Saturday night was much quieter in the pub and we slept well. It was an odd feeling going to sleep the night before the race and not having any pre-race nerves. All I had to do was support my wife - pack her in the car, get to the start, and clap and shout encouragement. I tried hard to do as I was told and make the weekend as easy as possible for her. In retrospect it probably wasn't very fair of me to drink wine each evening - it puts her under pressure to join me. I'll try and be more understanding if I'm in that position again.

Race-day morning was early - they always are. Mrs bounced out of bed energetically and started her routine. We were entirely self-sufficient for food, so no need to try to find breakfast anywhere. This certainly helps take pressure away from the morning, I'd definitely advise it in the future.

We set of for the lake nice and early. There was very little traffic out, and only a short queue to park - just a minute or two. The parking directions were military in their precision - all weekend every trip in and out of the car park was expertly directed. Much better than the Rotary club team in 2013. At times the access road was made one-way, this greatly eased flow and was a good idea. There was a well connected team with STOP/GO signs around the T-junction on the access road all in radio contact who also did an excellent job.

Transition in the morning, bikes protected courtesy of Power Bar plastic bags

All ready to go! The warm clothes get left in a white bag to be collected later, post-race

Mrs was in high spirits. The weather said it was going to hold. There's a lot of hanging around to do in the morning, and with no nerves keeping me on my toes (or in the porta-loos) it dragged on. Eventually we said our goodbyes and Mrs paraded down to swim start with the rest of her wave. She was off in Wave 2, 15 minutes after Wave 1 and the Pro field. I milled about and failed to get into a good place - I'm not too good at spectating! Wave 1 set off, and then Wave 2. I cheered but it felt a bit empty, I'd much rather have been out there bobbing around in the water, nervous and waiting for the off.

I had a place right by swim exit so got to see a few of the Pros. It's hard to recognise people in wetsuits, but Tim Don was easy to spot - never cut your hair, Tim! Mrs didn't have the best swim, coming out in a shade over 40 minutes. She seemed in good spirits though, and ran up the not inconsiderable hill to transition. I wasn't going to be able to get up there quick enough to see her bike exit, so I stood by the swim exit gantry for a while clapping the age groupers, and there were a lot still coming. I strolled up the hill and waited at the top to clap the last few - I missed Kate Stannett coming out, I think she got a good swim, but I caught Charlie. He said a few things to me but unfortunately my noise-cancelling headphones did a good job in cancelling his, er, noise (no offence, Charlie).

Tim Don out of the water first

Everyone had gone from T2 before long, apart from the couple of lonely bikes belonging to people who either DNS (Did Not Start) or had a bad swim, missing the cut off or not completing it. Time started slowing down now. I was wearing two jackets and two long sleeved tops, together with some long winter socks. I was still cold. The rain hadn't held off and about an hour into the bike we suffered short sharp showers. There was almost literally nothing to do. I wandered around a few laps of the site. The expo was just as poor as it was yesterday with no where to hide from the weather, and rather annoyingly not even anywhere to sit. Being a spectator here might be lovely when the sky is clear and the sun is shining, but it's much less fun in the rain.

A couple of coffees and a cookie later, and I went to get a good spot to see the first Pros come in off the bike. It was getting colder and the showers were blending into continual rain as the first three came in - Tim Don, Ritchie Nicholls, and defending champion Fraser Cartmell. It was a good race, the three had been together for both laps and had cranked out a very good time in the conditions. Before long the first age groupers were in, and I was pleased to see Team Freespeed's Sam Baxter right up at the pointy end. I got to know Sam at the Ironman UK training day in Bolton last year, he's a really nice guy and incredibly talented. Turns out he works a few hundred metres from me in London so we went for coffee last week. I'm all about the name dropping.

First three back in off the bike

Up one side, down the other, rack the bikes and it's just a run to go

I knew it was going to be a while yet before Mrs returned so I walked over to the run course for a bit. This was a real treat - to get to watch the Pros racing is a side of Ironman I've never seen first hand. Last year I was coming into T2 as the men's race was being won! The athletes were getting progressively muddier and wetter as the rain fell. They were still putting in a hell of a performance though, it was a real battle up front with the race wide open in both the men's and women's field. Holly Lawrence, 4th last year, had stormed the bike going off the front to establish a lead, and defending champion Eimear Mullen from Ireland was chasing her down hard on the run.

Joe Skipper

Team Freespeed's Sam Baxter - it was a very good day for them today

I heard a rustling behind me and was surprised as Mrs arrived already in her warm clothes and wrapped in a silver blanket. She'd had a very difficult lap on the bike, plagued by some mechanical problems, and had made the tough decision to not continue onto the second lap. She was in high spirits by the time she found me, but it must have been a very challenging moment. I feel she made the right call. Conditions were poor, and you need to rely on your kit - I learned that last year, I'm certain I'd have pulled up too if it hadn't have been the first of our Ultimate Challenge.

We couldn't get her bike out of transition for another hour and a half, so we watched the runners for a little longer and then huddled in the café for what seemed like forever. We grabbed the bike as soon as we could, and went back down to the pub to lick our wounds (and drink some wine).

Eimear managed to chase down holly and take the win. Ritchie Nicholls set an amazing new course record in sub-optimal conditions to take down the men's race.

I enjoyed cheering on Mrs, I'm glad I could support her, but it's a sucky race to be a spectator at. The facilities are minimal, there's no mobile reception anywhere, nowhere to sit, and the expo is poor. The experience made me so very grateful for everyone who has cheered me on during my races. I didn't realise just how much standing around is involved, and how slowly the time passes! Thank you to my friends and family who supported me last year, and thank you on behalf of all athletes to all spectators - you're such a large part of the racing experience and you make all the difference, and I'm not sure how many athletes recognise your commitment.

Of course, we've both already signed up for next year's event - with the world's toughest 70.3 on your doorstep there's really no choice! Bring on June 15th 2014 and with it the 10th anniversary of Ironman 70.3 UK.

Ironman 70.3 UK, Day four, Race day!

Mrs has also prepared a race report, you can find that here.

It's well known that no one gets any sleep the night before race day, I didn't expect to get quite this little though. We took the evening before quietly, ate early with Chris and my Dad before heading up to our room at about 7:30. We chilled out to some music and TV before turning in at about 10pm, at which point some seriously drunk people decided it would be fun to stand outside the pub (under our window) and shout and sing and make stupid noises at the tops of their voices until well gone midnight. In a dramatic case of role reversal, Mrs fell asleep instantly and didn't hear any of it, while I lay awake getting more and more annoyed. I used the time to visualise my race step by step. I managed to get right to the end, in what felt like real-time.

I next awoke and saw the clock at 03:45 - hell, three and a half hours of sleep is enough for any man! We got up at 04:00 (arising before 4am is not permitted, that counts as "yesterday"). The last thing we did yesterday evening was to apply our temporary tattoos - they seem to have held well over night.

Posing? Not at all!

The big difference between this race day and previous races is that most of the preparation is already done - bikes and bags were dropped off yesterday and we're already registered. There's nothing to do but get dressed, eat, and head off to the lake.

I was feeling fairly calm - I'd spent a long time thinking about today and making sure everything was suitably planned. I remember volunteering in transition in the morning of the inaugural Wales Ironman race at Tenby last year, there were literally hundreds of panicking competitors desperate to get to their red and blue bags to check the contents, add something, remove something, and generally faff. They seemed very ill at ease, and very stressed. I was determined not to be one of those people. If you put what you need in your bags in advance, then it'll be there on the day. I'm fairly sure Ironman don't have special Iron Pixies who go and mess up all your bag contents for you.

We drove across, clocking three or four race vehicles out to patrol the course on the way. Traffic was good - we got straight into the car park field with no delay. The Rotary Club team of car parking attendants had done a fantastic job all weekend, and were still on the ball today. Massive thanks to all of them. We heard some reports afterwards that the parking was a nightmare if you got there late - top-tip, get there early! Much less stress.

Transition at 05:30, full of last-minute tyre pressure checks and drinks bottles being mounted

We met up with Chris and my Dad ("You're starting at WHAT time?!") and killed time until the start.

Me and Mrs - can we get started now please? (with Kate & Charlie Stannett on the right)

There was a 15 minute delay getting going, but eventually we walked down to the lake and swam out to the start. I was keen on having a good warm up, so was a bit disappointed that we were told we had to remain in the main village area until notified that we were to be walked down. To be honest, I didn't check the lake ahead of time so I don't know if warming up properly was an option. I did what I could with some high-knee running and arm-swings on the way down. I really wanted to get started now.

Standing around waiting to be escorted down to Wimbleball Lake (photo courtesy of my Dad)

There seemed to be some commotion about exactly where the start line was - some people seemed to be many tens of metres forward. From somewhere the national anthem rang out and many of the athletes sung along. Singing was not high on my to-do list, however, I was trying to gradually get my face wet with the cold water and focus on my start. As I've mentioned before I have freaked out a bit in open water starts previously and it takes a good few minutes for me to settle down. Finding a calm place to float and focus before starting was part of how I was aiming to combat that today.

The "washing machine" as we all set off (photo courtesy of my Dad)

Suddenly, I heard someone shouting "Let's get on with it then!" (or something similar) and everyone was off. I didn't hear a klaxon, gunshot, air-horn or any kind of official starting noise - I don't know if there was one. I found that a bit odd. Anyway, best get on with it then!

All the red hats set off (elites, ultimate athletes, and lower age groups - green hats were 15 minutes later, athletes in the 40+ age groups). I took some time to settle in to my stroke, and thankfully didn't get any of the discomfort I've had before. I don't know what was different this time - maybe I was more mentally prepared, or possibly it was because I had a good bit of clear water around me and didn't get into the jostling and shoving part until a few minutes in.

I found some handy trees on the horizon to use as markers, and got into my rhythm. I quickly started overtaking people, and managed to stay on course in a good straight line - not much correction required. To say there were almost a thousand people starting in my wave it didn't feel that crowded. I suppose there's only so many people you can see when your head is in the water, and it's only the 5 or 6 in your immediate vicinity that you need to worry about.

My stroke felt good and strong, thank you Jez Robinson, it seems that swim coaching is really starting to make a difference. The first buoy came quickly and I turned hard right with it banging my shoulder - no long turns and wasted time here. It took a while to sight the second buoy but once I did, and located another handy tree on the horizon to aim at, it quickly came up. I was feeling good and strong, and my stroke remained stable and controlled.

Turning right again I found the exit gantry in the distance. Here was where I made the only big mistake in the swim. I was still feeling strong, but my focus started to drift and I daydreamed a bit, thinking about all sorts of things. Losing concentration meant I didn't sight as often as I should have, and I started to go off course. I was yelled at by someone in a kayak - I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I heard the word "Yellow!" and realised there weren't any other swimmers around me. I'd drifted right and was going off course! I needed to make a sharp adjustment left in order to get back on track and go round the left side of the yellow interim marker buoys - going on the right side is off-course, and a fast track to DSQ (DiSQualified!).

Exiting the swim - nice marks on my head from the swim cap!

I stayed in the game for the rest of the swim, and didn't lose concentration again. Something to watch out for in the future.

• Swim (1.9km / 1.2 miles) - 0:35:14
• 83rd out of 214 in my age category (38.8% down the field)
• 507th out of 1,265 overall (40.1% down the field)

Close, but I'm pretty sure I didn't swim across the land on the way out...

I'm really happy with this time - it's the fastest 1.9km I've ever completed, and about 5 minutes faster than I was expecting. In other triathlons I've been around the end of the top third (e.g. 30-33% down the field). I expected the standards to be higher here, so I'm not surprised I'm a little further down, but still comfortable in the top half and I didn't freak out at the start. A really good start to the day, and I smiled checking the time on my watch as I made my way to transition.

Mrs exits the transition tent (photo courtesy of my Dad)

Exiting the swim I jogged and quick-walked up the grassy hill to the transition tent conscious of not wanting to spike my heart rate unnecessarily. It was slippery and muddy, and the route went across a couple of paths with pointy stones (matting next time please, organisers). I'll be the first admit that my T1 was pretty poor. I found my bag very quickly (always make sure you take a moment to remember exactly where your bag is hung on the racks - in the heat of the moment the numbering doesn't make the most sense) and then found a spot to sit down. I used my socks to wipe the mud, gravel, and other bits of lake off my feet - a few seconds wisely spent here could save hours of cycling discomfort or a silly avoidable injury. Socks and cycling shoes on, no problem.

Next up, my arm warmers. It was a nice day and shaping up to be warm, but I'd heard so many times that arm warmers were essential on the long bike legs that I'd been determined to wear them. Normally I can slip them on in a few seconds, but I'd never tried it with wet arms - and they stuck like glue. I wrestled with them for too long, and also found it tough getting the left one on over my chunky Garmin Forerunner 910XT watch. Wasting time now! I had also decided to wear glove liners under my cycling mitts, and to slip them both on together. This also failed with wet hands and I had to separate the gloves, and put them on individually. Bit of a farce - I shouldn't have bothered with any of it, and just gone out with bare arms and hands, like in every other triathlon I've done recently. I could have kept my arm warmers in a pocket, or on my tri bars, and just put them on if I got cold out on the road.

I'm reminded of the first Thames Turbo sprint triathlon I did in spring 2010. I took what felt like about a week in T1, getting dry, putting on socks, gloves, etc, and a cycling t-shirt. All unnecessary, and all chewing through vital minutes. It seems in this new scenario I need to learn some of those lessons again. It's important to be settled before you go out on the next leg, be it bike or run, as you'll be doing it for a long time in a full or half Ironman race and a twisted sock or forgotten nutrition could make or break your day, but I think I need to try and do it a bit quicker!

• Transition 1 - Swim to Bike - 0:07:53

I finally got out of T1 and ran through the mud to my bike, hoping that my shoes would still clip in properly when caked in wet mud. They did.

A couple of lonely bikes belonging to people who DNF'd the swim (photo courtesy of my Dad)

Now, time for my strong section, the bike. 90km (56 miles) of undulating terrain with a few steep hills and some technical descents. I ran over the mount-dismount line, and hopped onto the bike pleased I'd taken the decision to have my shoes in my bike bag rather than attached to the bike, otherwise my feet would have been caked in mud.

I left with a group of riders, and we took it gently down the 2-300m of narrow muddy lane to get out onto the road (a slightly wider and slightly less muddy lane). The advice is to start slowly - keep your cadence up, and just ride up the first long hill out of transition - get relaxed and comfortable, and be ready to wind it up as you settle in. I always have a heart rate spike when I get on the bike after swimming - this was reduced as I had spent so long sat around in transition, but I still wanted to get down under my threshold HR as soon as I could (threshold is the HR you can sustain for a long period, if you're above threshold, you'll burn out quickly).

Within the first kilometre I needed to change off the big chainring - the chain jumped and then my pedals spun around with almost no resistance! It felt like the chain had come off (I looked down, it hadn't) or the hub had somehow broken and I was turning the cassette but not the wheel. Whatever it was I'd lost all drive and had no alternative but to get off quickly, unclipping my shoes before I toppled over. I'd left with a group of others so I had to get out of their way too, I ran over to the far right of the road, out of the way, to find out what had happened.

Somehow, the chain was sat around the small chainring, but was not engaged - as this meant the radius of the chain was higher than that of the chainring, it never was going to magically engage, and so the chainring just span round inside it - I have never, ever, seen that happen before, in who knows how many thousands of miles I've cycled in my life. I manually mounted the chain back on the ring (at least it was a quick fix) and set off up the hill (these things always happen at the bottom of hills).

Making some progress in my nice warm socks!

Trying to put the weird behaviour behind me I found a nice low gear and trundled up the hill, overtaking lots of people along the way. I was amazed at how many people had mechanical problems - crunching gears, swearing, people getting off - hadn't they checked their bikes? I reminded myself that I too was one of those people.

In racing there tend to be those who enjoy leading form the front, and those who enjoy chasing people down. I'm one of the latter. I love seeing people on the horizon and gradually drawing them in. For the next 10 miles, that's exactly what I did. Tucked down on my tri-bars, managing my effort carefully, and overtaking dozens of people. Their swims and transitions must have put me to shame, but I could sure as hell ride faster! This is more like it - mechanical problem behind me, bike functioning well, nutrition on plan, and feeling strong.

There is one particularly fast descent on the bike course, about a third of the way round. It's long and roughly straight, with a 100 degree hairpin right-hander at the end, followed by another steeper straight section down to a difficult junction and a 120 degree left-hander. This is considered so dangerous, it's marked as a "No overtaking zone", and was specifically called out during the race briefing in addition to having a large yellow sign placed at the top. It was on this descent that my second mechanical problem surfaced.

I am not the most confident cyclist descending at speed on my tri-bars, so I was up on the risers and braking occasionally to control my speed. As I neared the first sharp corner I slammed the anchors on hard - at first I shaved a lot of speed off, decelerating smoothly and rapidly, and then from nowhere started to get vibrations up through the front end of the bike - these got worse and worse until I thought I was going to get thrown clean off! I couldn't see very well as my head was being vibrated. I'd slowed enough to make the first corner, and vibrated my way down the final stretch to the bottom corner.

In honesty, I was really scared - if I couldn't stop there was no way of avoiding a crash, and at that speed it wouldn't be pretty. Full of adrenaline, I turned the bottom corner and gathered my thoughts to work out what had happened. In the stress, I hadn't changed down, so I was doing about 10km/h in top gear - as I changed down my chain jumped and skidded, failing to engage with the inner chainring again. I was going too slowly to take any action other than to get off, or fall off. I got off.

At this point I could have cheerfully picked my bike up and hurled it over the hedge.

Instead, I fixed the chain, manually shifted into a low gear, and got back on. Experimenting over the next couple of kilometres I found that whenever I braked at the front my bike vibrated like it was going to shake itself apart. It felt like the brake was being pumped on and off, exactly like braking on a warped rim - but with a carbon braking surface when the pads bite on the rim it's a very sudden braking effect - OK if you can apply it gradually to an even rim, but disastrous in this situation.

I found myself on the hilliest 70.3 bike course in the world, unable to brake properly going down hill, and unable to change chainrings reliably. Well this was going to make for a fun next 40 miles.

I was having quite a dark moment now. I had to remind myself that this was the first race of four, and the objective was to complete all four, therefore as long as I finish this race it doesn't really matter what the time is. I climbed the next steep hill (stopping to replace my chain once again) and crawled down the other side, back brake almost fully on - I was too scared to get up to a high speed when I couldn't see the road ahead, as I knew that if something unexpected happened I had no way of stopping quickly. It's a truly horrible feeling when you completely lose trust in your bike, and it means you just get slower and slower.

I completed the first of the two laps and set off on the second, now starting to dread the repeat of the "No overtaking zone" hill. How could I control my descent? As it was I went down with both brakes on hard, the vibrations were so strong and really quite frightening, but I knew there was no alternative. Really, I should probably have stopped and withdrawn, but there was no way I was going to fail at the first hurdle in this journey. As I crept down the hill, other competitors flew past me (so much for no overtaking) - that in itself added to the scariness of the descent. I got down in one piece, and limped down the following hills too, trying to make what time I could on the flat and the ascents. I'd found a technique to jump my chain back on the big ring when it failed to change down, so I could at least manage that situation.

With about 10 miles to go I noticed whilst freewheeling briefly I seemed to be losing quite a bit of speed. I realised that my front brake had been rubbing! So for 30 miles I'd been fighting my brake, as well as the hills. I reached down and adjusted the thumb-wheel - almost immediately my bike felt faster. Great! Couldn't descend quickly, couldn't change gear, and riding with the brake rubbing. What a terrible ride! At least I'd made it to the end though. I'm fairly sure all the people I overtook in the first 10 miles had now overtaken me back, and then some. I noted lots of fast people flying by me - they would have been in the second swim wave, so were 15 minutes ahead of me already. I tried not to get too dejected, reminding myself it was about getting to the end of Wales Ironman, I had to focus on that objective.

I'd stayed spot-on with my nutrition with one gel 15 minutes in, then another at 30 minute intervals. I hadn't got tired (dejected, pissed off, disillusioned at times, yes, but not weak). This was a good result, and should have me in a good place for the tun.

• Bike (90km / 56 miles) - 3:21:11
• 73rd out of 214 in my age category (34.1% down the field)
• 411th out of 1,265 (32.5% down the field)

I know these times look good - into the top third overall - but remember I'm used to being in the top 5-10% on the bike leg of a triathlon.

2-leg bike course

Some serious climbs and descents

Remember, there's always someone worse off than you. Up one of the hills on the second lap I overtook a guy stood by the side of the road, his left crank arm on the ground still with pedal attached a few metres behind...

I'm in the yellow calf-guards, running past the toilets into T2 (photo courtesy of my Dad)

T2 was much quicker - I took advantage of the toilets on the way in, and did a quick change of shoes, shoving everything into my bag. One volunteer tried to help by emptying my bag as I was filling it, but apart form that the transition was uneventful. Arm warmers and gloves off, helmet off, cycle shoes off, run shoes on, cap on, and out the door. I had spare socks in the run bag but elected not to change, my Woolie Boolies were warm and dry, and the spares were only for if I'd got wet.

• Transition 2 - Bike to Run - 0:03:55

I sploshed out of transition through the mud, and it was time to go for a run.

One of the things I love about multi-sport is that you can segment the experience with clear boundaries even while you're still in the race. As soon as I started running the adventures and disappointments of the bike component were already forgotten. I had a new task, and its name was half-marathon. 

I've found before that after a long swim I've had what could only be described politely as a problem which is gaseous in nature. This kicked in hard in the first 5km and I farted my way round quite uncomfortably with some real distress in my guts. My posterior was so "vocal" that it proved to be quite the conversation starter, "As long as it's only gas, I don't mind!" I quipped to a few passers by. Thankfully it was only gas, and over the first 5-7km everything settled down and was able to speed up a bit.

Thumbs up on the second lap! (photo courtesy of my Dad)

My plan was to continue with the gels every 30 minutes, but I really couldn't face one with my stomach as it was. I decided to swap to a half banana from the aid station I passed 30 minutes into the run, and that worked out well and made a nice change from the sweetness of the gels on the bike. 

I had already decided to walk up the one big hill on the run - overall it wouldn't make much difference to my time, and it would be much more useful to save that energy for where it made a difference. I stuck to this plan rigidly, and ran the rest of the way, only walking a few steps at the aid stations when I stopped to take some sips of water. I took on gels at 60 and 90 minutes in - my stomach had settled completely within the first 30-35 minutes, and I felt stronger and stronger.

I took the first of the three laps deliberately slowly (regardless of the stomach distress I had planned to start slowly and build up). I felt stronger on lap two, but still held a bit back in the knowledge that I had a third to complete.

For the third lap I pushed harder, I think there was more to give but I had nothing to prove at this stage - I knew I could finish well and in one piece, and that means it would be mission achieved successfully.

Making some progress on lap 3

My Dad was out on the run course and I saw him a few times. I got encouragement every time I saw him - I hadn't appreciated the strength you get from support, it was a real boost and I'm so pleased he made the long trip down to support me. I'm looking forward to having Chris' support in Bolton - I think we're going to need it!

The course was tough and technical - slippery and muddy in places, slippery and grassy in others, and challenging throughout. A lot of climbing and descending, there were very few level periods. Apart from the few hundred metres over the dam and back, there wasn't really any flat. Wimbleball is famous for its hilly bike course, but I think comparatively the run course is harder (though that may be from my position as a more competent cyclist than runner).

Three laps including two "out and back" sections (top and bottom on the map)

Good pace, held steady throughout with a slight lift towards the end

At the completion of the third lap I took the spur that led to the famous red carpet and finishing chute. A smile broke out onto my face completely outside my control, and I ran down looking good and strong, raising my arms in victory as I crossed the line. 

• Run (21km / 13.1 miles) - 2:06:54
• 122nd out of 214 in my age category (57.0% down the field)
• 706th out of 1,265 overall (55.8% down the field)

I'm very happy with the time - it's a minute faster than I ran the Nike Run To The Beat half marathon in with Mrs last year, and that was a walk (run) in the park compared to this course. I'm particularly pleased that my pace didn't decay, and I had enough left for a push at the very end.

My GPS watch missed the first km or so, but to get an idea of pacing the first 10km it logged I ran in 62:31.9, and the second 10km in 62:17.9 - a negative split of 14 seconds. Doesn't get much better than that!

It's lying, my official time was 6:15:08 :)

• Final time (70.3 miles) - 6:15:08
• 98th out of 214 in my age category (45.8% down the field)
• 499th out of 1,265 overall (39.4% down the field)

So well inside the top half in my age category, and inside the top 40% out of all the finishers - not bad for my first go, a pretty solid day at the office.

Meanwhile, while I was on lap one of the run, this was happening:

Philip Graves takes the Mens' race in 4:19:56 (photo courtesy of my Dad)

Philip collapses on the floor, a 6 minute lead going into the run... (photo courtesy of my Dad)

...translated into a victory over Markus Thomschke by just 79 seconds! (photo courtesy of my Dad)

Full set of Male professional results (ultimate athlete Paul Hawkins in 8th place)

Eimear Mullan took care of the Female pro race with a finish in 4:53:33, pushing defending champion Emma-Kate Lidbury into second by 2 minutes and 50 seconds.

Full set of Female professional results (ultimate athlete Bethan Fowler in 8th place)

A full set of results including the professionals and all age group finishers can be found in the official results PDF.

Mrs with a mega-strong finish - I love this picture (photo courtesy of my Dad)

Mrs came in with a time of 7:11:04 - 16th out of 34 in her age group, and 985th overall. She had a solid race and is as pleased as I am to get the first of our four races ticked off in good form, and with no injury or major problems.

This is what it's all about - the finishers' medal - a weighty beast!

All done, apart from a bit more posing

After finishing you're shepherded through to the "Athletes' garden" which is actually a big sweaty tent where you can collapse a bit and get yourself together before going outside to hook up with friends and family. We had some recovery drinks provided, and water, as well as a lovely white bap full of fresh hog roast being prepared outside. It was lovely to eat solid food after living on mush all morning! At this point you can pick up your white bag and get changed. I'd forgotten to put the milk we bought into my white bag, so I had my My Protein Recovery XS with water, tastier than expected.

Mrs with her hog roast and finishers' medal looking rightly pleased with herself

Me and Mrs, looking a bit more matched than we'd ever planned!

The numbers that we're expecting to keep for all four races this year

Me and my Dad - thanks for the support, Dad, it made a huge difference!

Me, Mrs, and Chris in our finishers' t-shirts enjoying a well-earned cup of tea

After exchanging stories and stocking up on tea and a cookie (thanks Chris!) we went back to transition to retrieve our bikes and bags and store them in the car. 70.3 races are all over in one day, including the prize-giving ceremony and roll-down for places at the Ironman 70.3 World Championships in Las Vegas.

Mrs and I saw the roll-down when we volunteered at IM Wales last year, it was an exciting time as competitors waited to see if they were going to get lucky. I was keen to hang around and watch it this year too. If you finish at the top of your age category you qualify for a place at the World Championships. If you don't want to go, the spot "rolls down" to the next fastest person, and so on. Some slots roll down well beyond the tenth fastest so it's worth hanging around - you never know what might happen!

We also stayed for the prize giving for the professional athletes.

L-R, 5th to 1st, Susie Hignett, Holly Lawrence, Simone Braendli, Emma-Kate Lidbuty, Eimer Mullan

L-R, 4th to 1st, Fraser Cartmell, Mark Threlfall, Markus Thomschke, Philip Graves

Next stop was back home for some serious dessert. Very well earned, I think!

Incredible freshly made Blueberry and White Chocolate Cheesecake!

Upon reflection I'm really very happy with the way the day turned out. We'd been thinking about the day for a long time, and most things had gone according to plan. I learned a lot to take forward to my next races, and am now really looking forward to getting stuck back into a good block of training ahead of a taper for Bolton - our first full distance Ironman event in just 5 weeks' time.

Our accommodation at The Anchor Inn, Exebridge

We were made to feel very welcome and looked after by the proprietors, Ann and John Bland

Ironman UK 70.3, Day three, Racking and briefing

Taking it easy is the order of the day today. We went for a very light 15 minute run before breakfast just to get the legs turning over (not that they forget, but it's a good idea), and then crashed out for the morning with magazines and TV.

Light lunch at mid-day and then the bikes went into the car and we headed off to Wimbleball Lake to rack them up and drop off our bags.

We hooked up with long time friend Chris, and also said hi to Chris Tyrrell who we got to know whilst volunteering at Wales Ironman last year. He runs transition at the UK Ironman events and what looks like a tough but fun job coordinating all the volunteers.

Some of Chris' pixies (lime green t-shirts) checking athletes in

The site was getting very muddy (time to add wellies to the Big List of Stuff) but I managed to keep most of it off my bike. Having such a low number makes it dead easy to find our bikes - right on the back row, right in the middle. Similarly, our red and blue bags are easy to find, right not he side, top row, smack bang in the middle. That should help take some of the stress out of tomorrow.

Bikes ready to go for me and Mrs

Some serious bike-porn around here *dribble*

Blue bags 

Red bags

The Ultimate Challengers (or Ultimate Athletes as we seem to be called now - I have to say that moniker makes me feel somewhat fraudulent!) got a mention at the compulsory race briefing and a round of applause from the assembled masses. I could see Kate and Charlie Stannett in the room, but couldn't spot any of the others. They're definitely around here somewhere...

Packed room for the briefing

Ready to get going (Kate Stannett turning around in the yellow jacket) 

We left our bikes to get rained on outside while we went back to the pub for an early evening meal and relaxing night. The weather forecast is for a more relaxed day tomorrow, brighter, milder, and most importantly less windy and rainy.

Better weather during the race period (we hope)

All the fun starts bright and early tomorrow - up at 4am and out by 5, ready to get started at 7. I'm very very excited and really looking forward to getting underway. It will be a fantastic feeling to say we're "one down with three to go", and to finally get my mitts onto of those Ironman finishers medals.

Oh, and it looks like I won't get my opportunity to take on 2010 Ironman World Champion Chris "Macca" McCormack, as he tweeted this earlier:

No Macca at IM 70.3 UK

Next update will be post-race! #excited