Ironman 70.3 Ireland, Galway: Part 2 - Race Day!

We have race day morning well drilled now. Having been left high and dry previously, and needing to find random pastries and things to eat, we now make sure we are capable of being self sufficient. This means the morning routine is as follows: Up three hours before race start, kettle on, get dressed, make tea, re-boil kettle for ready break with banana in it and add peanut butter (or Nutella for Mrs). Whilst kettle is re-boiling, make protein shake with milk and drink that. By the time Ready Brek has cooled from lava-hot to edible-warm, we're virtually ready to walk out the door.

We were staying at The Sea Breeze Lodge, only a 15 minute walk from race start, much better than the half hour drive we had at Bolton. We gave ourselves a cheeky lie-in, so up at 04:30 for a 7am start. We wanted to be there at 6am to put our bottles on the bikes and get down to the start area, so that meant leaving at oh-five-thirty (including contingency time for anything unexpected).

There were no unexpecteds so we set off on plan. We bumped into a few of the other Ultimate Athletes in transition performing last-minute bike checks. Eimear Mullan was racked opposite us so there was a TV camera there following her every move. Eimear won the Female Pro race at Ironman 70.3 UK Wimbleball and Ironman UK Bolton, and was a hot favourite with plenty of local support here in her home race.

Eimear (with her back to us) getting TV attention whilst making some last minute bike adjustments

It was a 10 minute stroll back down the promenade to swim start, so we sauntered down in good time. The great thing about having a plan and following it is that race day morning is a very relaxed affair. You can take the time to focus on the race plan and get in the right place mentally without panicking about if you've remembered your goggles or your bike tyres are adequately inflated.

The swim start was in waves, with the male and female professionals setting off on the dot of 7am, the M18-24 age group at 7:05, all the males 25-39 at 7:20, and Mrs setting off with all the females and the oldest male age groups at 7:35.

I was a bit more colourful than usual - it was my first outing in my shiny IM Talk tri-suit, I had my customary yellow Compressport calf guards on, and the previous day I'd got a bit concerned about the temperature and - determined to have a quick transition and not have to mess about putting a cycling top on - I picked up some Compressport arm sleeves from the "expo". For now, all this was safely tucked away under my wetsuit, so I looked like one of the dozens of unidentifiable men in black wetsuits with goggles and blue swimming caps on. I'm unique! Just like everyone else!

The "expo" - Ironman UK really need to get better at this, it looks like a half-hearted afterthought

I swam out to the start pen (no running into the sea start, disappointingly - I think Wales has a run-in though, I'm looking forward to that) and bobbed about. I didn't suffer any anxiety or 'freaking out' (sudden racing pulse, some hyperventilation) that I've had before. Now I've had a few good starts like this I'm hoping my open-water freak-outs are a thing of the past.

The professionals (red hats) about to go, M18-24 (green hats) waiting behind

The quietest hooter in the world was sounded, and we were go! First target was the nearest big orange buoy. When the pros went off some of them got the wrong target and headed off to a yellow buoy that was further afield - later one of them was to blog about it being due to a lack of clarity in the pro briefing. For the last few waves they had gone out in a boat and deflated it to avoid any further confusion.

No such problems for us though, and I set off hard and, for once, in a straight line. The sea was very calm, granted there were some waves that were bigger than I've had in lake swims, but they were completely manageable and hardly impacted my ability to swim or sight. I think we were lucky, the weather had been bad overnight, and the sea was certainly rougher during swim practice the day before.

As a result of trying to set off hard I ended up in the washing machine for longer than usual. Right up to the first buoy, and for the first half of the long straight parallel to the shore I had people all around me - fingers tapping at my toes and ankles, arms around my head, my hands banging the guy in front, and shoulder to shoulder with someone next to me who was matching my speed and cadence perfectly (except he was breathing to the other side to me, so every stroke we turned our heads to look directly at each other - I'm thankful we both had tinted goggles on looking into his eyes every stroke would have been very freaky, normally only my wife gets this close to me!).

I worked hard to swim in a straight line and my GPS plot shows I got it about right. No drifting to the right and heading out to sea for me! I was making an effort to take the time to sight clearly, and only put the power down when I was sure I was oriented correctly.

Swim course: Looks like I managed to hold my line fairly well

I eventually got bored being in the cluster of swimmers I was in - I couldn't see a route through the middle so I dropped back and overtook them down one side. In retrospect I should have done this earlier - but while I was in there I was enjoying the drafting effect and saving some energy.

The nose clip I'd got to stop the sea water flooding up my nose and making me sick was working like a charm. My confidence and comfort in the swim was in no small part due to this. It's now going to be a standard part of my sea-swim kit (mental note: I must add it to the enormous list of things to take to Ironman races).

I took the end turn buoy a little wide and needed to correct - it was almost a 180 degree turn and I hadn't quite gone round enough. The return leg was against the current. The waves felt larger in this direction, and I was tossed around a little bit, but still nothing at all concerning. I hope Wales is going to be as calm, but I suspect it won't be.

Swim exit was on a rock-free beach - I swam in as close as I could before getting to my feet and setting off for T1. I'd kicked my legs hard for the last 150-200m and they were sturdy and supported me without wobbling. I think back to the first epic (to me) swim I ever did - the Nokia Swim (now the Speedo Open Water series) event in The Thames a few years ago. It was a touch over 2 miles and took me almost an hour and 20 minutes. When I got out I had to be helped to my feet, and then couldn't stand or balance for the next 10 minutes - how times have changed. I remember on that day thinking "How the hell can anyone cycle after swimming this far?".

Swim cadence: Hard start, steady in the middle - need to learn to hold higher cadence

It was a fair trek down the sea front to T1. There was soft green matting down over the road - a lifesaver for me as I have girly feet that don't go bare very often and therefore aren't very good for running on pointy concrete. My jogs from swim to T1 always see me getting overtaken by a lot of people, and today was no exception. This might be an area to work on in the future - particularly for races where there's a long route to transition.

• Swim, 1.9km, 37:33
• 26th out of 189 in my age group (13.8%)
• 150th out of 924 finishers (16.2%)

This was an amazing swim for me. As I mentioned recently, I'm normally at the back of the first third both in my age group and overall. I don't quite know how I jumped up so far, but I'm really very very pleased with this performance. Looking at the data it's clear my stroke rate fell off quite dramatically - if I can work to keep that up there's another few minutes of improvement for sure.

T1: Long route up into transition, and a trot down with the bike to the mount line afterwards

I had aimed in this race to get transitions quick and efficient. I think I did pretty well in T1. I expect my time is slowed by the length of the run - I only took a few moments to deal with my blue bag and get kitted up. I'm not sure I could go much quicker without doing less - shoes on bike and not bothering with socks, for example. This might be worth it in a future 70.3, but for full distance races comfort is going to be far more important than 30s saved in transition. An equally windy route out with the bike to the mount line, and it was time to ride.

• Transition 1, Swim to Bike, 08:00

The bike route was reputedly fast and mainly flat, and it didn't disappoint. My objective here was clear - to keep my effort under control, and save a lot of energy for the run. This meant keeping my HR down, well within my Zone 1 range (up to 152 BPM) - I was aiming for for 130-135 BPM. As is normal when I first get on the bike, I was up in the 160s. I know from experience that if I relax, focus on breathing smoothly, and don't push a big gear then my HR will drift downwards. It did this over the first 20 minutes or so, and I settled in to my rhythm.

Bike route: 45km out into the countryside, and 45km back again!

I had to exercise quite a lot of control here - on the gentle rises I wanted to just power up in the same gear, keeping my cadence up and pushing over the top - instead I forced myself to change down and try and keep cadence and power output even. I really did need to say out loud a few times "Don't push, change down!" - I was overtaking someone who was out of the saddle sawing away in a crazy high gear at one point, I wonder if he thought I was talking to him...

The bike was fast - really fast. I kept a close eye on my HR and worked hard to not work too hard. On some of the long straights I was a gear lower than I felt I wanted to be, but I needed to preserve strength and energy. I generally only changed up when I needed to get my cadence down and avoid "spinning out" (pedalling so fast you lose form or can't get any power down). It was mentally challenging, particularly when I was getting overtaken (admittedly, that only happened a couple of times), and is certainly something I'm going to need to look at in training.

Bike HR: Once I'd got my HR down after transition, I held it fairly constant well all the way through

I can really appreciate now how advantageous it would have been to be able to see my power output during this period. To know for sure if I could push it a little bit more, or if I needed to back off. I'll be looking more seriously into this in the future.

We'd had a bit of a nutrition error the night before and realised there wasn't enough gatorade mix to go round so our bike bottles had one with gatorade mixed to the correct strength, and one with just water and High5 Zero electrolyte tablets. I really didn't want to have to stop at the aid stations, so I adjusted my nutrition plan from one half-bar and one gel per hour to two half-bars per hour for the outbound leg of the out-and-back course during which I'd drink the electrolyte drink. Once I'd consumed my four half-bars I'd move on to gels, and I'd swap to the gatorade mix for the return leg. This worked perfectly, I didn't feel under-fuelled or fatigued at all.

Bike speed: Looks a bit like it was all over the place, but this is actually a fairly steady speed

The bike was largely uneventful. I got annoyed at the usual things such as dropped gel wrappers, people riding side-by-side in pairs blocking the road, and the time I was overtaken by a group of 8-10 riders who were clearly all riding in a peloton with no regard for the drafting regulations.

I was getting a bit numb in the "undercarriage" by the end and was ready to get off. As it was such a fast and non-technical circuit there was very little movement on the bike - just sat in the aero position pedalling away, therefore any little rubs had plenty of time to get settled in. Mrs has recently got an Adamo saddle that she swears by, so I may try that out before my next long fast aero ride.

Flying through Galway back to the transition area I was struck again at the number of people who, with 5km to go, just seem to give up and forget they're in a race, I've seen it at every Ironman so far - just merrily cruising the last few km and chatting to each other. Guys, you're still racing! Get a move on! I swooshed by, wheels humming, arms tucked in. I've got T2 to get to. Their loss!

• Bike, 90km (56 miles), 2:42:15
• 48th out of 189 in my age group (25.4%)
• 196th out of 924 overall (21.2%)

This position in the field reflects my effort management well. I know I could go faster, but at the potential expense of the run. When I'm going flat-out I know I can get into the top 10%, so well-managed effort and heart rate together with a top-quarter finish seems like a good result.

T2: Can you see where I ran the wrong way? Twice? Must spec the route better next time!

My plan for T2 was the same as before, fast and efficient. I went the wrong way slightly after racking my bike, and probably could have shaved a few seconds off in the tent, but all things considered it was fast enough. I was soon with running shoes and hat on, and out onto the promenade for the half-marathon distance run.

• Transition 2, Bike to Run, 04:22

This was where I was hoping to realise the benefit of a well-manged bike phase. I'd avoided looking at my overall elapsed time since start until now. I sneaked a peek and saw three hours and thirty-three minutes. This means I need to break 1:57 for the run in order to come in under 5:30 for the whole event. That sounds like a sensible target at this stage, given I was aiming for sub 2-hours for the run.

I decided that 5:30/km was a good pace to set off at, and promptly ran the first km in 5:04 - OK, a little faster than intended, but it felt good. My cadence was high at over 90 steps per minute - this was very good news - at Wimbleball I struggled to get my cadence up (I didn't have a Garmin foot-pod back then so I don't have data, just going on my memory of the experience). The pace was higher than I'd planned but it felt good, like it was something I could sustain. I decided to try and hold at around 5:10/km and see what happened.

The run course consisted of three laps up and down the promenade with an aid station at each end. We entered the run course in the middle, next to the finishing area, so unlike Bolton's point-to-point plus 3-laps-but-really-4 (a realisation I found very challenging mentally) this was a genuine honest 3-lap circuit.

Run course: Three honest laps, pancake-flat with great surfaces

I held my pace well as the km ticked by. After about 12km the going got a little harder, and I had to make more of an effort to keep my cadence up over 90, but I held it well, and started thinking about when to see if I had anything left to see if I could speed up for the finish.

Run cadence: That'll be 5 aid-station stops then. I couldn't have done it any better!

At about this point I spotted Mrs coming the other way. She was running a bit awkwardly and holding her arm in the classic way that cyclists do when you see them getting up from a crash with a broken collar bone "I came off my bike", she shouted, "I think I've broken my collar bone!" - I was obviously concerned, but she seemed to be fairly chirpy (or had so much adrenaline in her body she couldn't feel anything), so I pressed on.

Run pace, also just about perfect and on-plan - so pleased with the run (for once)

I decided that when I got my third arm band (one per lap, so everyone knows which lap you're on) I was going to turn it up a bit. That would be with about 4km to go. I would then try turning it up more from the final aid station, about 750m to go. The wind strengthened as I collected my arm band so my efforts went on holding my pace. I checked my time and was just over 5 hours elapsed. I couldn't run 4km in 15 minutes, so 5:15 wasn't on the cards, but I should be able to easily clear 5:30. I did manage to speed up towards the end a little bit, but nothing particularly heroic.

• Run, 21.1km (13.1 miles), 1:50:23
• 59th out of 189 in my age group (31.2%)
• 258 out of 924 finishers overall (27.9%)

This was just the run I was hoping for - even paced, very little fade, enough energy for a little push at the end, and not collapsing over the line. Absolutely bloody spot-on the plan.

Run HR: Creeps up, with a lift at the end where I tried to push for victory!

The stats speak for themselves, I've never placed this highly in a run of any distance before (in a triathlon or as a single event). I'm absolutely overjoyed - and I know I have more to give here with more training.

I crossed the line with a watch time of 5 hours and 23 minutes, and found out later my official finish time was 5:22:35 - that's 52:33 faster than the IM 70.3 PB I had set at my first event earlier in the year at  IM 70.3 UK.

• Total race time, 5:22:35
• 39th out of 189 in my age group (20.6%)
• 189th out of 924 finishers overall (20.5%)

I didn't have much time to celebrate - I went off to the finishers' area to collect my t-shirt and food and drink (tea! They had tea! Wonderful), before heading back to the run course to catch up with Mrs. She looked to be running well and we agreed to meet at the medical tent.

I have to point out here that the medical staff and the marshals were wonderfully helpful and considerate, they all showed genuine concern for her well-being.

A trip to A&E revealed she had broken her collar bone in two places, having had a pretty major bike crash about 10km out. In T2 she insisted on going out for the run anyway and finishing the race - amazing resolve and strength, mentally and physically. I'm in awe of her determination.

This is not what your shoulder looks like (hopefully)

In summary, this was the best managed race I've ever completed. I stuck to the plan closely, but with enough flexibility to adapt to the day. My pacing and effort was almost ruler-flat for the bike and run - suggesting I could have pushed harder. Most importantly, I didn't die in the run - I didn't see my HR sky rocket (or drop to a point where I couldn't load it properly), my cadence didn't fall off appreciably, and I didn't get too fatigued or hungry. This was just the right time for this race to come off well, and gives me good confidence for Wales - at least that I'll get to the end, even if I don't set any PBs along the way.

I even got a shout-out form my main man, Coach Joe Beer

One race left, 2 weeks to go - bring it on!

Ironman 70.3 Ireland, Galway: Part 1

Here we go again! This time it's off the mainland and over to the emerald isle for Ironman 70.3 Ireland in Galway.

It feels very different this time. Having done a 70.3 earlier in the year at Wimbleball, and then the full Ironman distance a few weeks ago at Bolton, I have no fear about the distance. I've learned a lot in the last two events, and this is the first opportunity I have to put it all together.

It's also the third of the four events in the Ironman Ultimate Challenge. At Wimbleball, the first event and my first 70.3 (half Ironman), the distance and the hilly course was the challenge. At Bolton it was my first full distance Ironman, and just getting to the end was the objective. Now I know (barring unforeseen calamity) I will get to the end tomorrow so my thoughts are turning to completion of the Ultimate Challenge. With this race, and then Ironman Wales in two weeks' time, the pressure is quite different - I'm starting to feel like I'm half way through a 13-week race, and tomorrow is the third quarter. It's a means to an end rather than an end in itself. My concern in the event of a DNF (Did Not Finish) here isn't that I'd fail to finish 70.3 Ireland, but that I'd fail the Ultimate Challenge. It feels like the stakes are somehow higher now!

Thursday 30th August

As I was off jetting around the world last weekend I missed the Sunday and Monday of my bank holiday weekend. Therefore I took Thursday off instead, and me and Mrs decided to take a leisurely meander to Galway and split the journey over Thursday and Friday. After my last training session (an hour and a half on the bike, and thirty minutes in the pool) we packed the car and set off for North Wales.

We stayed over Thursday night at Northop Hall Hotel, a nice little place that Mrs found

Friday 31st August

We had an uneventful drive to Hollyhead to catch the ferry to Dublin - this was certainly the right way to do it. Getting up at what would have had to have been 4am to drive here in one day would have sucked in the extreme. I needed a few sound nights of sleep - getting a good 8 hours the last few nights before a race can really pay dividends. It's not so much about the night before, indeed it's been shown that one night makes little difference to athletic performance, but the preceding 2-3 nights are definitely worth making the effort for particularly if there's a risk of a poor night ahead of race day.

Boat required

The ferry was good fun, I can't remember the last time I was on a ferry. There were lots of cars with bikes mounted on (in and behind) them, and an appropriate number of weathered triathletes making a direct line for the complimentary snacks.

Mrs and her happy snacks (we demolished an order of magnitude more snacks than this...)

A relaxed drive across Ireland followed as Dublin and Galway are at opposite sides. We went straight to Leisureland for registration, and picked up our bags, numbers, and assorted paraphernalia.

The Ultimate Athletes get another double-page spread - 8 competitors remaining

Another race, another wristband

We arrived at Sea Breeze Lodge (I can't be held responsible for the web site) late afternoon. The room is absolutely beautiful, a real surprise for what I was expecting to be a regular lived-in looking B&B. Everything has been recently redecorated, we have a big room with good quality fittings, very well presented common areas, and a warm welcome from the boss.

Sea Breeze Lodge, Galway - three locals and me the interloper!

We relaxed and got our kit ready for dropping off at transition on Saturday, and strolled up the road to Capone's for some dinner (a local Italian where parents take their kids to scream).

Kate and Charlie Stannet popped round at about 8pm and invited us out for a beer, so we went up to Tom Sheridans for a pint of the black stuff. A nice relaxing day, just what the doctor ordered.

Saturday 1st September

Today was already well planned out. Get up, 15 minute run to 'get the legs turning over' (I'm not sure my legs turned all the way over, but I went for the run anyway). Then some light(isn) breakfast, and down to Leisureland for swim practice and dropping off of bikes and transition bags.

The sea was not as cold as I'd feared. We swam out and back a couple of times, about 20 minutes in total. Wind was up a bit, but the waves were manageable. Tomorrow is due to be calmer, so I don't think the swim will be too bad for my first race sea-swim.

One of tomorrow's challenges is fast and efficient transitions, so I'm going with the bare minimum of stuff.

Blue bike bag for T1 (I need all of this stuff, but there's nothing extraneous here)

Red run bag for T2 (socks, hat, and inhaler all optional - only shoes are essential)

We went for a quick blast up and down on the bikes to make sure they were working OK. Mine was fine, but Mrs had sheared her rear gear cable somehow. A nice mechanic in the expo fixed it for €10, good as new.

Our bikes, racked and ready to go (Ultimate Athlete Bethan Fowler's bike in the background)

All done, and it was back to Sea Breeze Lodge for a relaxing afternoon of doing very little, and updating my blog (there you go, we've caught up with real-time now!).

Plan for Race Day

Swim: Put some effort in for once. I want to be out in under 35 minutes (tall order for first sea swim). Kick hard in last 100-150m, looks like it might be quite a trek up to T1 and jelly-legs would be annoying! Visualise transition.

T1: Fast, efficient, no faffing. No decisions to be made about what to wear or take, so no reason to slow down. Don't forget to put my bars in my back pocket. Not wearing a secondary bike top this time.

Bike: PACE YOURSELF! Start slower than I would normally want to and make sure HR is under control. Build after first 5-10 minutes up to around 130-135 BPM. See if I can hold it around there for the duration. Fuelling as has worked perfectly before - gel at +15, half a bar at +45, and gel/bar alternating every half hour from there. I'm carrying 2x 750ml drink so with a time of around 3 hours and 500ml/hour I should have no need to stop for anything. Take care flying through the aid stations, other people will be stopping! Don't forget to take feet out of shoes ahead of bike dismount!

T2: This should be very fast - nothing to do but put running shoes on. Take hat if it's strong sun (unlikely), change socks if it was raining on the bike (unlikely). Let's see how far up the ranking I can get for transition.

Run: Only part of the race with a time target. I really want to a) go under 2 hours, and b) negative split. Therefore, first 5km, take it gently, don't sprint off. A half marathon in under 2 hours means breaking 5:41/km on average. There's no need to go off any harder than this. If feeling strong, from 5 to 15km try to hold 5:15-5:30/km. Find a rhythm, and keep it going up until 15km, if you can't speed up, don't worry, just try and stay within 5:41/km. At 15km, if feeling strong, open it up and see what else you've got left - I know I can run a fast 5km, just think of it as a parkrun.

If I manage the bike well, and the first 10-15km of the run, I should be able to put in an effort to be proud of.

Let's see what happens tomorrow!

Ironman UK performance analysis

As I write this I'm on a plane on my way out to the US for another lightening fast visit. Arrive Sunday night, one night in New York, work Monday, and fly back overnight landing on Tuesday morning in time to go to the office in London. Don't let them tell you international travel is glamorous.

It's an important trip, and I can see the need for me to be there in person on Monday, but I'm a bit annoyed at missing what had become until recently a bit of a bank holiday ritual. The Monday morning 4am start to get up and head over to Hampton Pool for the wonderful Thames Turbo sprint series races. One is held on each of our bank holiday weekends, so there are three in close company at the start of the year, and then one in August.

I had decided to skip race 3, instead getting some extended training in the bank, but had been looking forward to race 4. In theory, I've never been this fit - how much of that transfers from the long course racing for which I've been training to the short course sprint format is uncertain, and I intended to find out tomorrow with a balls-out (metaphorically, I assure you) effort.

In any case, instead I'm an hour out from Heathrow over the Eastern Atlantic on my way to Noo Yoik. I shouldn't complain too much - without my job with the good folks at Razorfish I wouldn't be able to fund my Ironman habit.

Recently I've been reading the rather excellent blog of Russell Cox, entitled Trains & Travels. Lately he's posted a number of articles looking at the relative performance of athletes as benchmarked against their peers and other performance levels in their race. I've always done this with my Thames Turbo results - and they've always shown the same patterns:

The swim: I am roughly at the bottom of the top third. I've been improving, slowly, but not very rapidly. I haven't competed in a Thames Turbo race since I've re-learned to swim (more on that in the future). Recently I've been 25-30% down the field overall, but, as Male 30-39 is a high performing age group, this translates to only about 35-40% in my age group.

The bike: This is where I'm strong. In Thames Turbo races I can get as high as the top 10% in the overall field. I'm also strong in my age group, hitting top 15%.

The run: Do we have to talk about the run? In my first two Thames Turbo races I was beaten by almost 83% of the entire field - I am not a runner. My best run performance was Race 4 last year where I sneaked into the top 50% - but still got beaten by 65% of the others in my age group.

Overall: My strong bike pushes me up the rankings. In recent races I have come in the top 25% of the field, and the top 35% of my age category.

Disclaimer: My Thames Turbo PB was in Race 1 of this year - I haven't conducted my usual analysis on those results as they've stopped releasing the immensely useful .xls of all the results, and have moved to an equally immensely annoying web-based results tool. Colour me unimpressed.

Russell's blog got me thinking about how this performance benchmarking compares to my inaugural Ironman. Would the same pattern be revealed? If so, what action can I take to produce a better performance next time?

It just so happens that I checked the Ironman UK results page yesterday, and they have now released a .xls of the full results. I'll say right now - all race results data should be released like this. Today's Internet is all about the cool things you can do with data - and the first step is making the data available in an easily consumable manner. Coming third only to well documented API and a tidy .csv is the glory that is the Microsoft Excel spreadsheet. Fancy web front-ends and search tools are great, but please, race organisers, make them your way of interpreting the results for those that just want to click about, don't make them the only way to get to the data.

So what does the spreadsheet tell me? It tells me the following:

My finish was a bit behind where I would expect to come in shorter races. The first race at a new distance is unlikely to give your optimal performance, and I suspect my run will have brought me down the field.

• 501st out of 1,180 overall (42.5%) - meaning I was "chicked" by 39 women
• 462nd out of 1,047 men (44.1%)
• 103rd in my age category (M35-39) out of 227 (45.4%)

My swim was pretty average compared to previous performances. Interestingly I was higher up in my age group ranking than overall - this implies that M35-39 is behind the curve in Ironman swimming, as opposed to my local sprint races where it's one of the strongest groups.

• 408th overall (34.6%)
• 357th male (34.1%)
• 74th M35-59 (32.6%)

My swim to bike transition (T1) was well inside the top third. Again we see the M35-39 group are a little behind the curve - come on guys, get your fingers out!

• 343rd overall (29.1%)
• 303rd male (28.9%)
• 64th M35-39 (28.2%)

The bike was where, in my opinion, my race started to diverge from the plan. I went out far too hard and thought that would massively impact my ranking - I'm still in the top third, but no where near where I would hope to be.

• 350th overall (29.7%)
• 329th male (31.4%)
• 70th M35-39 (30.8%)

The bike is where the spreadsheet gets really interesting. It lists the split times at 7 points on the bike course (to this day I have no idea how they did that - I don't recall going over any timing mats).

My recollection of the bike phase is that I went off like a rocket. I thought I was under control, but I was flying past people like they were standing still. I decayed hard over the second and third laps, and picked up a tiny bit (probably relief!) towards the end of the third lap.

The stats seem to validate my suspicions, only I was decaying way sooner than I realised. In fact every split was slower (relative to the field) than the one before. I managed a very minor improvement on the last split, but that was only 2.3 miles long so I don't think it counts for much! Needless to say, this is not a good example of Ironman pacing. 

However, I was significantly faster at the start than I realised, my 12.5% overall for the first split puts me in the top eighth of all competitors! My assumption that I'd drifted down to half way or even further by the end was based on my starting pace being average - I didn't realise I'd set off so relatively hard, and therefore although I slipped a long long way down, my finish was still quite good (relative to the field, if not relative to my normal short course triathlon performance).

A similar story can be seen from my average speed.

It looks alternately slow and fast because the 3-lap circuit had a very definite slow and fast half, but of note is that the slow halves get slower each time, and the fast halves do too. My pace was dropping continually throughout the bike phase - this is a real eye opener, I had expected a period of good stable performance followed by a rapid drop off, not a decline basically from the word go!

So how does this compare with everyone else? I figure the top 20 finishers should know a thing or two about pacing - after all, they're the only group who went under 10 hours, with 20th place just sneaking under at 9:58:53. This group is all male, the first female was Irish professional Eimear Mullen who came in at 10:08:44 - an incredible performance for her first full distance race.

So it seems the top guys also fade, just like I do - exactly like I did, in fact. Only they are going faster to start with, and they drop off at a lower rate (their reduction is therefore much less impacting). This isn't quite what I expected, I assumed that there was a magic pacing ability the top performers have and their splits would show that the three laps were taken at a similar pace each time. Actually, their pacing pattern was much like mine, only they're much fitter and can therefore go faster and resist the drop off in pace for longer.

If I conserved my energy better by starting more within my capabilities I should find that, although my initial velocity might be marginally reduced, I can limit the rate of decay of pace, and therefore my plot would look similar to the top 20, only shifted down by a few km/h. Overall this would give me a better finishing time. Something to think about for Galway where the bike course is virtually flat. If I can get the pace right from the start and hold it right through to the end, and still have good legs for the run, then I'll have got it right and be deservedly pleased.

I'm expecting my bike to run transition to be poor - basically I stopped for a picnic, application of sun cream, a chat, and generally took my time. Mentally, I needed the break, but race-wise I suspect it cost me some places.

• 1,011th overall (85.7%)
• 896th male (85.6%)
• 199th M35-59 (87.7%) 

As expected - terrible! The stats show that at the slow end the M35-59 group were marginally better than average, but when you get down to the back 15% it's all much for muchness. Any longer and I'd have squeezed in a nice cup of tea (now I've thought that I'm wondering about the practicalities of leaving a small Thermos in my T2 bag, hmm...).

One of my objectives for Galway is to speed up my transitions. I needed the break after the challenging bike ride, but a better managed bike should mean a faster T2 (suggesting a well paced bike makes more difference than just that revealed by the bike split time alone). For reference, the fastest T2 was a breath-taking 1:16 by Rob Cummins, an Irish athlete who was placed 48th overall.

Onto the run, and again I'm expecting a picture of starting too fast and fading fast. If the Thames Turbo pattern holds then I'll be significantly further down the field in the run that I was the swim or bike.

• 747th overall (63.3%)
• 669th male (63.9%)
• 158th M35-59 (69.6%)

So I just squeezed into the top two thirds overall, and the top two thirds of men, but my age category is clearly comprised of stronger than average runners, therefore I got beaten by very nearly 7 out of every 10 of them.

Again, the spreadsheet gives a lot of splits. Let's see if the run really went the way I remember it.

This one is a bit different - it looks like I was gaining places overall for the first 13 miles, unlike the bike where I was losing places form the start. The trend reversed fairly quickly, and I started drifting back relative to the field at a pretty high rate. 13 to 21 miles was really hard, and I got slower and slower, and then managed to halt the decline for the last couple of miles (possibly because I knew the end was close, and also it was downhill!).

Basically, my pacing sucked, and I went off at an utterly unsustainable pace.

Compared again with the top 20 finishers shows my pattern was fairly representative, but once again I started a lot more slowly. My pace from 17-20km didn't pick up again when compared with the top finishers - I expect this was one of the long gentle rises that I just couldn't get going on and ended up walking most of the way. The top 20 picked up the pace again and kept running.

Note here that although it looks like our paces were declining at the same rate because the trend line is roughly parallel, this isn't the case. My drop of about 2.5km/h represents a proportionally greater reduction given my starting pace of only 9.5km/h (26%), whereas the top 20 dropped a similar amount of about 2km/h but starting much faster at 14km/h (14% drop).

As with the bike, I expected the top 20 finishers to have a magic pacing ability that showed they hold an even pace throughout, but this isn't the case. They gradually slow down along with everyone else (along with me, at least). Where my curve differs at 17-20km I was clearly in trouble, this matches my experience - this was the darkest point in the run, although I felt mentally alert (I take that as evidence my nutrition was good) my legs just wouldn't do what they were told. Even the technique of setting small targets (the next aid station, landmark, or sometimes even lamp-post) was not working - legs just went "sorry, no way" and would play ball. Or run.

I'm taking a few things from this analysis:

• My pattern of pacing decay is fairly representative.
• My rate of decay is proportionately greater than those at the sharp end of the field.
• The top 20 are faster at the start, faster in the middle, and faster at the end!
• My swim is OK - although a third of the field beat me, the time difference is comparatively small. The 9th place finisher only beat me by 3 minutes, and despite being 22% faster the top 20 was only on average 16:30 ahead of me. 
• My run is by far the weakest discipline, and that should be a major component of my winter focus. This is where I faded badly, and lost the most time.
• To move up to the next level (12 hours would seem to be a reasonable target) I need to improve my run, and get better at managing my effort on the way there.

Importantly for this year:

• Even if I control my bike better in Wales I'm not going to pluck an amazing run out of thin air.
• The bike course is a lot harder than Bolton, and as a result I'm not sure I'll be able to set a better time, even with better pacing.
• I now recognise that at Wales the challenge for me really is in getting to the end.

In my next races I should (hopefully) have my watch working properly so I can map all this against my own data rather than just the published splits - that will give me a lot more insight.

Race Report: Ironman UK, Bolton, England

I wrote part of this report the day after the race and it then sat in draft form for almost a month. I’ve tried to find the time to finish it off and somehow just haven’t managed. A big push now as I need to get it out a) before I forget everything, and b) before it’s so late that I’ve raced again!

So, see if you can remember a whole month ago, and grab a cup of tea and a biscuit ‘cos it’s another long one…

Mrs wrote a race report too, you can find it here, together with some stats here.

In order to make sure the tension isn't too much to bear for you, dear reader - let me start with this: As loudly proclaimed by Emma Jenkinson, one of the two Ironman MCs, as I ran(ish) down the finishers’ chute “Norman Driskell – You. Are. An. Ironman.”

Pretty happy right now!

The journey is far from complete, but my first full distance race is over, and I have the t-shirt and comfortingly heavy finishers’ medal to prove it.

I’ve had a fairly good few weeks in between Wimbleball and Bolton. For the first week after the 70.3 I didn’t feel like doing much at all – if I remember correctly I had no exercise at all for 5 days. I then built back up and had two really good strong weeks. The fourth week I ended up going to China on business for an impossibly short trip (flew out Monday, and back on Thursday). This led to me “losing” an entire night of sleep, instead having two 36-hour long days. I was left utterly shattered, and of course got no training accomplished.

The final week was also dominated by work. It was a relief to finally turn off all my devices, set my out of office, and say “I’m really sorry, for any other reason I wouldn’t do this – but I’ve been training for seven months for this, and I’m not missing it for the world”.

We packed on Thursday and then had a nice evening of escapism at The Hitch Hiker’s Guide To The Galaxy Radio Show Live – in London for one day only and, as a big fan and avid collector of versions, an opportunity I couldn’t miss.

Friday morning and we set off. Mrs’ Dad had kindly leant us his Citroen Bellingo, an ugly (sorry!) vehicle, but immensely practical. It swallowed up all our stuff with room to spare. We could have got everything in three times over. I’m starting to think my Audi isn’t compatible with a triathlon lifestyle.

We arrived at the Reebok Stadium, home of the mighty (apparently) Bolton Wanderers, and registered.  A race briefing was due to kick off shortly and, although we’d planned to go to the Saturday briefing, we decided to hang around. That meant that apart from dropping off bags and bikes in transition we wouldn’t have anything else to do the day before the race. That should help in relaxation and de-stressing.

Race briefing in the Reebok Stadium, Paul Kaye on the stage

After the briefing was the Pasta Party – an Ironman tradition. All athletes are entitled to complimentary plates of pasta, bread rolls, and entertainment. Paul Kaye, the other Ironman MC and always the voice of Ironman (I-ron-man) in my mind, talked through some of the day, and the Ultimate Athletes got a mention. 7 of us were there, and we were called on stage for our moment of fame. There’s a spread in the race programme again, entitled “and then there were nine”. Next time it’ll be eight, or fewer, as sadly Charlie Stannet missed the bike cut-off in the race.

Our 2-page spread and the first appearance of an "Ultimate" logo?

...and then there were Nine!

Paul Kaye described the four races we’re doing as “Ironman 70.3 UK: the hardest 70.3 in the world”, “Ironman UK: one of the hardest full-distance races in the world”, “Ironman 70.3 Ireland: the biggest ironman party in the world” and “Ironman Wales: Definitely the hardest full-distance race in the world”. I’m sure they “big-up” wherever they are, but it certainly made us feel good (and a nervous). We got a nice ripple of applause. I really hope me and Mrs are still standing after Wales!

The second of our four times as Mr 103 & Mrs 104

Team True Spirit got a big mention too, they are a charity supporting injured servicemen and women and giving them the opportunity for great personal achievement (as well as fundraising) at Ironman UK. There were maybe 30 of them in total, a mix of servicemen, physiotherapists, and other supporters.

The Team True Spirit crew

I spent a while looking at the handbike one of them would be using tomorrow to cover the 180km bike course - it was a work of art.

Beautiful handbike - light as it can be, but still a hell of a lot of work

We found our hotel, and turned in for the night. The next morning’s quick trip to T1 for bike/blue bag drop off, and then up to T2 for red bag drop off didn’t go as planned – the traffic was very heavy (jams, and annoying temporary traffic lights) so we got back to the hotel at 2pm tired, hungry, and thirsty. Not the best preparation. Determined to relax, we spent the afternoon doing very little – feet up, watching Tour de France highlights, and dozing. We turned in at about 20:30, and miraculously were both asleep by 21:30 and got a solid 5+ hours of sleep ahead of our crazy 3am start – a far cry form Wimbleball where I got what felt like no sleep whatsoever. Top Tip: For a good night of sleep ahead of a big race, don’t stay in a pub.

Bike left in T1 all racked and ready to go

So, up at 3am feeling remarkably rested and ready. Well-rehearsed breakfast of Ready Brek with peanut butter and a banana stirred into it, and a bottle of Gatorade to sip on, and I was good to go. We drove down to Penningotn Flash, scene of the swim, getting there at about 04:30. Race start was at 6am. Normally Ironman races start at 7am, I’m guessing this was a 6am start in order to get the final cut-off to be 11pm. The finish was in the town centre of Bolton, and there are probably regulations about making loads of noise beyond midnight.

There’s something surreal about covering your arms and legs with water-resistant sun-cream in the dead of night, but if the weather forecast is to believed (the UK is on the cusp of transitioning from never-ending rain to never-ending heat wave) then sun-burn was a real and very unwelcome risk. Factor 20 to start the day giving it plenty of time to soak in, and then some spray sun-cream in my run bag for a top-up in T2.

Benefits of arriving so early: Plenty of time to get mentally adjusted to the day ahead; no panics as you stand in the queue for the gents cubicles (bonsai trees grow faster than this queue was moving); and time to survey transition. I’m always amazed how many people seem to be in a state of panic – can you really not remember if you left your bike helmet in your blue bag? Really?

Transition looks pretty in the morning, barely 5am here

Volunteers had covered every bike with a protective cover in case it rained. The exact opposite to Wales last year where, as I was volunteering, we had to remove all the covers as they were acting like sails and blowing the bikes off the racks.

We bumped into a freelance photographer who had been staying in the same place as us in Wimbleball – he recognized us and we had a chat. He takes photos for Ironman, and also Compressport – so with my bright yellow Compressport compression calf guards on I was a good target. He got some snaps of me and Mrs but I’m not sure where they’ll end up – if anywhere.

We ambled down to race start.  I was eager to get into the water and relax and warm up – it felt a bit rushed last time. No such rush this time - we bobbed about for quite a while, amiably jostling each other to defend our starting position. It turns out we started 10 minutes late, but eventually the klaxon sounded and we were off! I was starting my first full-distance Ironman race. I hadn’t felt nervous coming into the race, probably because of the amount of thinking and planning I’ve put into it. As such, I set off on the swim feeling guardedly confident. I know I can swim this far, I know I can bike, and I’ll worry about the run when I get there.

• The Swim (3.8km / 2.5 miles) - 01:15:11
• 74th out of 227 in my age category (32.6% down the field)
• 408th out of 1,180 overall (34.6% down the field)

It was nice to bob around with Mrs before the start, but I lost her the second we set off. This is fine, we knew it would happen. We might be married, but our races were going to be two very individual affairs. I found out afterwards I’d given her a kick in the face just after the start – sorry honey! Wasn’t on purpose!

It was a bit of a bun-fight for the first couple of hundred metres (they don’t call it the washing machine for nothing) – I got a few elbows to various places (included one to a particularly sensitive area!) and I’m pretty sure I meted out some damage of my own. Unfortunately I drifted off course a bit again – a little off to the right. This gives me clear water and gets me out of the fighting, but it does mean the continual course corrections break my rhythm slightly and mean I take a slightly longer route. Need to fix this – it’s a free and easy way to get the swim times down.

I also need to get better at using a burst of speed to find water at the start. The general advice is a good few hundred metres (more if you can manage it) to get clear of those around you and find some feet to draft – ideally someone who is marginally faster than you and can drag you along. I didn’t do any of this – I have much still to learn about race swimming.

The swim course featured an “Australian exit” which means after one lap you get out, run for a few dozen metres and then get back in for another lap giving just enough time for your supporters to identify you among all the other people in black wetsuits and hats, and for you to not see anyone at all and concentrate on not slipping over or losing your goggles. Mentally this worked in my favour – I know I can swim 1,900m easily, so I just viewed it as two manageable swims rather than a continuous 3.8km (2.25 miles).

I drifted off line again on the second lap – not terribly, but enough for it to be annoying. I will really need to fix this. The second lap was uneventful, everyone had strung out so I had my own space, we only came into bashing-range at the turn-buoys. I settled into a good rhythm and chewed through the course. The splits afterwards gave my first lap at average 1:58/100m, and second lap at 1:55/100m – so I negative split the swim! Very pleased about that.

I got out of the swim without any problems, and felt good, ready to bike. Let’s go!

• Transition 1 - Swim to Bike - 06:31

I learned form T1 at Wimbleball where I’d spent far too much time faffing about with gloves and arm warmers. This time my blue bag was streamlined.

The tent was already quite humid, so I found a seat near the exit where it was cooler. Apart from the transition volunteer trying to pack my cycling top in with my wetsuit (“No! I need that!”) it went to plan. I could be quicker, I know, but with such a long ride ahead I felt it was more important to mentally tick off the main things: Socks on without wrinkles under the feet, shoes done up to the right tension, still got nutrition in my cycling top pockets, etc.

Blue bag - bike stuff

I had three mule bars with the tops already opened in one pocket, some emergency arm warmers in another pocket, and the middle pocket was going to be for rubbish (wrappers from the bars and gels that were taped onto my bike). I already had 2x 750ml Gatorade on my bike, and at a minimum 500ml/hour that’s up to 3 hours before I need to stop at an aid station. I wasted a lot of time at Wimbleball farting about with wrappers and moving bottles around, people I’d worked hard to overtake streaming past me. This time I was going to be much more efficient, and had practiced it all in training.

I saw Ultimate challenger Kate Stannet in transition. She beat me in the swim by about a minute, but I think I got out on the bike before her.

I think one of the things I’ll take to Galway is an attempt to do fast transitions – the challenge there is it’s tricky when you’re not out with the front pack in the swim as the transition area is already very busy. Maybe I should just learn to swim faster!

The biggest annoyance of the whole day happened as I left transition. My Garmin Forerunner 910XT has a “multisport” mode designed specifically for race timing in triathlon. In multisport mode you hit “Start/Stop” when you start the swim, and then hit the “Lap” button each time you change discipline, and than “Start/Stop” at the end of the run. This includes transition, so you have 5 clear times (Swim, T1, Bike, T2, Run), and can manage each sport individually whilst keeping track of overall race progress.

I hit “Lap” as I exited T2, and instead of a little “Now start biking!” graphic, I just got the normal “Lap” behaviour. Either it wasn’t properly on multisport mode or something had gone wrong. I wrestled with it a bit and eventually just decided the quickest thing would be to stop the current exercise, reset, and start again as if it were a normal bike ride, with “Bike” as the active sport.

I thought I’d done all this correctly (remember I’m on my bike trundling out of T1 at this point, and negotiating Pennington Flash’s precipitous speed bumps) but heading down the road I realized I wasn’t getting any km splits at all, just elapsed time. This was a problem all the way round as I didn’t know how fast I was going, or how far I’d gone. Luckily I knew the course so could gauge my position, but not knowing my average speed was annoying.

Anyway, if something’s going to cock up I’d rather it was my watch and not my bike again! Speaking of which, the bike…

• The Bike (180km / 112 miles) - 06:29:55
• 70th out of 227 in my age category (30.8% down the field)
• 350th out of 1,180 overall (29.7% down the field)

I set off. I felt good and confident. My bike felt (no pun intended) absolutely amazing with the HED Jet rims on. I love my H3 wheelset, but unless you’re all about speed on a flat sprint/Olympic course (e.g. Thames Turbo or at Dorney Lake) then they’re just not appropriate – and as I learned at Wimbleball, they absolutely suck when you try and make them stop quickly on a fast descent, and as soon as you lose confidence in your ability to stop, you may as well give up.

Leaving T1, 112 miles to go!

The bike course consisted of a 16-ish mile point-to-point, then three laps of a 32-ish mile circuit to give 112 miles (180km) in total.

Within the first mile I’d seen a crash – one guy was wobbling around and lurched to the right as someone was overtaking - he took him out completely and both went down. Poor blokes, I hope they were OK to get back on and carry on racing. As with Wimbleball, I was surprised at the number of people stopped with mechanical problems within the first 10km, underlining again the importance of ensuring your bike’s fitness as well as your own.

I’ve heard a hell of a lot said about Ironman cycling, particularly about pacing. For example, “there’s no such thing as a bad run, only too fast a bike”, “it’s almost impossible to take the bike too easy”. I probably should have remembered some of these pearls of wisdom as I rocket past fellow competitors like they were standing still. I felt amazing, I felt strong, my bike was mechanically as close to perfection as it has ever been. My new rims hummed and whistled, I just knew I sounded like an unstoppable missile to the ears of my fellow racers. I took some time to enjoy it, really enjoy it. I even said out loud how great I felt, and how amazing this experience was. I knew there would be some dark times in the race (there always are in races this long, even for the professionals) so I wanted a happy-zoomy place to remember when my time came.

My watch wasn’t giving me splits, but I was using my estimate of perceived effort to keep the energy expenditure under control. I thought I was taking it easy, I really did. I got to the start of the circuits, still overtaking people (I genuinely have no idea how they got there so quickly, the speed they were going on the bikes they must have completely aced the swim and got a 20-30 minute head start on me). Why would such strong swimmers be cycling so slowly? If I’d thought about that question I might have been able to work out the answer – they weren’t going slowly, I was going way (Way WAY) too fast.

My plan was to use the first lap fairly cautiously for reconnaissance, making sure I knew where the tricky corners and technical descents were, and then open it up a bit on the second lap. Mrs and I had been out here a fortnight ago to ride the course, so I already had some familiarity with it – but it all looks different at speed and on closed roads.

At the top of Sheephouse Lane, the only major climb on the route

I finished the first lap – it seemed to take a long time to get there, these laps are long! – and set off up Sheephouse Lane, the only real big hill on the course, for the second time. It was during the second lap I started to pay for my exuberance early on. I was getting overtaken. I’m not used to being overtaken on the bike. I found it very demoralising. Whereas I’ve been overtaken by the odd whippet on an awesome bike with humming disc wheel and easy cadence, and that’s fairly easy to come to terms with, this time I was being overtaken by chubby blokes on old steel-framed bikes. A lot harder for me to deal with.

It’s not that I was tired, my legs felt OK, I wasn’t fatigued, and my nutrition plan was working perfectly – my legs just wouldn’t work as well as they had been. I got really quite depressed about it, and slowed dramatically. This was definitely a dark moment. As I finally finished the lap and started up the hill for the third time I looked forward to the super-fast descent on the other side, and tried to take comfort in knowing there was only one more to go. Lap three went on for ever. The roads were longer than they had been, the gentle rises became hills in their own right, and more and more people were overtaking me. My initial “holy crap I’m going to break 5:30 at this rate!” turned into “well I think I might still make 6:00” and eventually became “I reckon I can just creep in under 6:30”.

As it was I got in a hair’s breadth under 6:30 having learned a whole big lesson about pacing. It would be easy to blame my watch, but my watch wasn’t pedalling, I was.

I understand now those people I overtook 15 miles in (who all overtook me 70 miles later) weren’t “amazing swimmers who were going slow on the bike”, they were “good swimmers who were pacing themselves appropriately on the bike”. I wondered a little bit about what my cycling enthusiasm was going to do to my run, but realized that wasn’t a productive line of thought, and quickly shut it down.

On the up side, my nutrition had gone perfectly. I took 15 minutes to get settled in to the bike, and then had a gel. I had half a mule bar 30 minutes later, a gel 30 minutes after that, etc. Combined with a target minimum fluid intake of 500ml of Gatorade per hour that’s exactly the carb intake I need. I stuck to the plan rigidly, almost to the minute. At least I could still get elapsed time from my watch. After 3 hours when I ran out of drink I got a Gatorade top up from an aid station. I was carrying all the solids I needed, so there was very little time lost refuelling. This was one of the high points, and I don’t think I need to make any fuelling changes for my next races.

As I entered T2 (I’m sure that school never used to be quite so far down the road) I had a new experience – a bike catcher took my bike off me and whisked it away. I haven’t had this happen before and was momentarily confused as my routine in T2 starts with “run with bike to racking point and hook bike up securely” – I was pointed to the T2 area (school sports hall) by a friendly volunteer (I must say, all the volunteers were excellent) and off I trotted.

• Transition 2 - Bike to Run - 13:08

My second transition was laconic to say the least. I almost forgot I was in a race. I took some time eating a bagel I’d stashed in my bag (brilliant idea - put a treat into your run bag, and reward yourself for getting through the bike). Again I took time, making sure I applied some more liquid chamois to areas at risk of chafing (you know the ones), rubbed some body-glide under my arm-pits as that is one of the most painful areas to get rubbed raw, and covered myself in sun cream. It was getting damn hot out there, and I was going to cook unless I had some protection.

Red bag - run stuff and special bagel treat! (If I get this far I deserve a treat)

I knew I’d gone too hard on the bike, and as I sipped some water kindly supplied by a volunteer, I reflected. I had to avoid doing the same on the run, and I couldn’t let it ruin the race. There was a long time to go to the finish and I had to leave the bike behind, it was done, and focus forward.

• The Run (42.2km / 26.2 miles) - 05:12:58
• 158th out of 227 in my age category (69.6% down the field)
• 747th out of 1,180 overall (63.3% down the field)

Like the bike course, the run consisted of a point-to-point component of about 8 miles, followed by a purported three (which turned out to be more like three and three-quarters) laps of a circuit to make up the remaining 18. A marathon. I’ve never run this far before!

I set off out of T2 determined to keep my pacing even and careful. I’d reset my watch, set it to “Run” and headed out. It failed in the same way, no kn splits, not sure on my pacing. I went at what felt like the right pace and made good progress all the way to the circuits.

I felt like my pacing was good. Cadence high, tried to keep speed low, I overtook one or two people who looked like they’d suffered on the bike, but I certainly wasn’t rushing. I got to the circuits feeling strong. There was a very short sharp steep hill connecting the river-side section to the loops, and I chose to preserve some energy and walk up it. I’d learned at Wimbleball that run/walk is acceptable, and can make a big difference to energy conservation. At the top is a pub and a sharp left turn on onto the looped section of the course. Rounding the corner, I set off on a run again, to much whooping and cheering from the large (and tipsy) group of patrons.

This part of the course was a gradual incline all the way out, and decline back, with a squashed U-shaped loop in the town centre. There were two aid stations, one at each end.

The “out and back” style of looped course doesn’t suit me mentally. It really feels like running with no purpose in a way that a circuit doesn’t.

Part of the course that was in the middle of the town centre

Quite quickly I started to suffer the after effects of my bike effort. If I’m honest with myself (I wasn’t at the time, but in retrospect I can see more clearly) I went off too fast on the run as well. I felt good, it was nice to get off the bike, and my bagel-reward gave me a nice boost. The lack of pacing data from my watch was more impacting on the run, I felt a bit helpless without the regular beeping each kilometre. I ran for a while chatting to someone else, but realised he was going marginally faster than I wanted to, so I let him run on.

I had heard a lot about how if you pace the run correctly you’ll start to reel people in who went off too fast. This didn’t happen, instead I got slower and slower – a pointer that I was one of the ones who had gone off fast.

The crowd support on the run was excellent. Most of the sections were well represented, and the town centre loop was electric. I started to walk up the long rise, more so on the second loop. It became quite demoralising seeing other athletes with more armbands than me (one per lap). I tried to find my happy place – this was at two places on the loop, firstly Mrs was now on the run course so I was really pleased to see her and spent some time working out what I’d say as we ran past each other (it’s also the first clue I’d had that she had made it through the swim and bike and onto the run), and secondly down in the town where my good friends Paul, Chris, Rachel, and Simon had come out to support us. This made such a huge difference to my mental condition – I can’t thank them enough for coming out to support us.

At one point someone yelled “Come on, Norm” (the race numbers have our names on) but then followed it with “Oh! Norm Driskell! parkrun!” That took me by surprise, but it turned out afterwards that it had been the race director from Bolton parkrun which I’d trotted round the day before, and he’d recognised my name. That was amusing – I thought for a moment my parkrun addiction had become public knowledge!

Got a long way to go - no wristbands yet (photo copyright Simon Rowe)

The run went on and on and on… It seemed to be never ending. Before the race I had dreams of trying to get close to 4 hours, that was rapidly out of the window (I now see that it was a crazy objective) but it felt like the time was just sliding further and further away. I gave myself a promise of a pick-me-up treat on the final lap, I’d switch to the flat pepsi (surprisingly nice) – and that kept me motivated a bit longer. Until then my nutrition was a half banana and a couple of Ritz crackers at each aid station – I really didn’t fancy any more gels after the first lap, plus they are damn-near impossible to open after 10 hours of racing, the last couple I had to bite the tops off which was a mission in itself. I suspect a lot of people had commented as for a while the volunteers were handing them out with the tops already torn off – much better, thank you volunteers!

I was hoping I may still creep in under 5 hours, but as that slipped past I focused my efforts on breaking five and a half. I found some energy for a push at the end, running (if you can call it running) up most of the last hill, and all the way back down to the finish. My spirits lifted over the final 15 minutes – my legs were crying out but I pushed on regardless. I was so close, I was going to be an Ironman.

It was with a great sense of relief and achievement that I rounded the final bend and went straight on to the finishing chute. One athlete with another lap to go shot me a jealous look, probably similar to the ones I must have unknowingly exchanged with athletes a lap or more ahead of me when the situation was reversed.

This is my happy face (photo copyright Simon Rowe)

As I ran down the carpet, spiralling my arms and trying to whoop the crowd up, Emma Jenkins declared that yes, at last, after the longest 13 hours of my life, I. Are. An. Ironman.

I. Are. An. Ironman! (Official time was a second quicker than this)

• Final time (140.6 miles) - 13:17:45
• 103rd out of 227 in my age category (45.4% down the field)
• 501st out of 1,180 overall (42.5% down the field)

Very amused to be number 103 and come 103rd in my age group!

Kate Stannett got a mention on Ironman Live when she finished...

...and earlier on, so had we! (US timezone, -7 hours on BST)

I made my way quickly through the finishers’ area, grabbing some pizza (Domino’s, yum!) on the way. I wanted to see my friends and let them know how much they’d helped me.

After catching up, and scoffing recovery drink, cake, an ice cream, some coffee, and probably the other half dozen foodstuffs that were nearest at the time, I went back to the barriers to cheer on Mrs. I saw her go past twice – “You’re gonna be an Ironman!” I shouted – she didn’t register that she’d heard, but I think she did. After Mrs had successfully come in, we went for more cake and coffee before returning to welcome the last people of the day.

Mrs, enjoying her first taste of the Ironman finishing carpet (photo copyright Simon Rowe)

I was so pleased to have got through the day. The time wasn’t quite as good as I was hoping, but I can clearly look to my limited pacing skills for improvement next time – there’s a lot I could gain without being any fitter, just by playing the game better.

Mr Race Number had a crumply and ink-bleedy kind of day

The icing on the cake is that when Bolton was featured on the new Ironman magazine TV show, my legs were in one of the atmospheric shots! One of the unexpected bonus effect of wearing bright calf guards and patriotically coloured trainers (the other was that my supporters could easily see me coming).

My legs! On TV! Fame at last!

Two races down in the Ironman Ultimate Challenge, with two more to go. Galway is next for Ironman 70.3 Ireland; bring it on!…

Consistent swimming pace

So I made a lighthearted post some months ago about my swim coach un-teaching me to swim (apparently, I couldn't swim, even though I thought I could) and rebuilding my technique from the ground up (we have the technology).

Well here's a quick update on how it's going. I'm now faster than I was before I started, and much more efficient (going by perceived level of effort/tiredness - not particularly scientific, but it's all I have to go on - although it ignores that I'm generally fitter now and so shouldn't get as tired, etc, etc, etc).

This morning I swam a timed 30 minutes.

The objective: to go as far as I can.

The method: swim, put effort in, but not so much I burn out and have to stop, but enough to keep the pressure on and feel like I've represented my ability well.

The results: I over-ran a bit, but hit 64 lengths (1600m) in 31:47.8. What I'm most encouraged by is the consistency:

Solid consistent pace, v happy!

Next steps: Work to increase my speed across the whole set (i.e. just "swim faster" in general) - this should be easier than correcting any dead spots (e.g. variable inconsistent pace, terrible drop off in pace, etc).

Tonight I'm driving up to Bolton to swim in Pennington Flash, to run Pennington Flash parkrun (which until last week I didn't even know existed!), and to cycle 2 laps of the Ironman UK bike course (and back to the hotel) for a grand total of 150km! Last big training session until the big race!