Ironman: A Cruel Mistress indeed

BCTTT has had a fantastic year as far as Ironman is concerned, and before i write this i just want to say how thrilled i am for everybody that conquered a 70.3 or the full 140.6 distance races this year. Its a tough ask, i found out the hard way and i salute you all.

My journey to Ironman like many others started with a little idea of a small triathlon. Just over a year ago, feeling old, waistline getting larger and bored with not being active anymore i saw an internet ad for the Liverpool triathlon. For over 5 years i’d been pretty much a pub/couch potato since having to give up playing football due to a back injury. I secretly harboured the idea for about a month thinking everybody would laugh at me if i told them i was going to try this incredibly elite sport doing swim bike run all in one go.

Then my wife said she fancied doing the Manchester 10k, it would get her out running (something she was good at but i was not) and give her something to aim for so i decided to just go for it and entered the Liverpool supersprint event. Suddenly i was running (though not very fast) cycling (new bike etc) and even swimming (again very slowly...and this one was a shock cause i considered myself a good swimmer...well i was 25 years ago) and was loving being active again.
I did the Liverpool Race and loved it. I think the swim took me 14 minutes (my wet suit didn’t fit properly) the bike about half an hour and the run about 17 minutes...coming in with a final time of 1.04. little did i know that this mediocre effort would lead me to line up at Ironman UK in just over a years time.

If you’re reading this in the club mag then i don’t need to go into how it happened, that i joined this merry bunch of Tri-ers with all different levels of ability, a proper bunch of great people with nothing but encouragement and admiration for those who take part as much as those who win. The die was cast and at the club lash up my mind was made up. I was going to try it.
Fast forward to the 1st August at 5.30am and i was in my wetsuit, shaking with nerves that i couldn’t identify, slowly shuffling my way to the lake at Pennington flash in Leigh about to start on my Ironman experience.
i had trained for this, i’d regularly been swimming in open water, i’d spent a fortune on a wet suit, a new bike (my 3rd since the one i used at Liverpool) club shirts, countless nutrition products and gadgets all to help me get to the end.

i was not confident though, i don’t think you ever can be with Ironman, i live very close to the course, so i’d trained on it. I’d rode the loop countless times....ran on parts of the run course and swam more in this last 7 months than i had in the last 20 years. Had i done enough was all that was going through my mind walking to the lake. I was also nursing a shoulder injury known as rotator cuff syndrome caused by being a rubbish swimmer, i was worried this wouldn’t hold up, though in the end the shoulder proved to be the least of my problems.

So, here we are, and just as i’m heading to the lake in the middle of the pack i realise i’ve left my ear plugs in my bag...ok first mistake....rush back get them in (i hate to swim without them) and get back in line. This put me near the back of the pack (if you can call 1400 swimmers a pack) but i wasn’t too bothered, got in the water and swam out, looking for a little space before the gun went.
I never heard the gun, but we were off and i started swimming.
First few minutes were a little bumpy got an elbow to the ear and also felt a guy on my feet though i only know he was there when my heel struck him. After a while i settled in and just tried to take my time, concentrate on my technique and get round...it seemed to take FOREVER, at the turnaround point it wasn’t tiredness that i was struggling with, it was boredom. Still, on i ploughed starting to tire at about half way in the second lap but sure enough after about 3 hours i was on the home straight and heading for the ramp. I was really nervous swimming to the ramp, i could see loads and loads of people, and i was worried i’d get a cramp as i got out (like i did in the recent Liverpool OD race) or trip over...not to worry, i was dragged out, onto my feet safely, over to the left to kiss Mrs B who then told me i’d done 1.34 for the swim.
Chuffed with that.

Lets get on the bike.
quick change, found out somebody i’d been helping for the weekend (she didn’t know the area) had been pulled out in 41 minutes as she was struggling so i was gutted for her.
I ran to my bike trotted to the exit point to hear my name being shouted over the MC system and exited Pennington flash to claps and cheers (Brilliant).
I headed out towards the loop feeling relaxed and pleased that my day had started about as good as i could hope. Leg out to the loop was uneventful, saying hello to a few people as i passed them, i know the roads and was just trying to take it easy to get my legs going. I got to the start of the loop as i knew it in about 45 minutes but the timed start of the loop was actually half way up sheephouse lane which was about 10 to 15 minutes later. Just before the first aid station which is at the start of the lap a motorbike passed me then a guy on a bike came past almost as fast as the motorbike was going. It was the leader, Frazer Cartmell who would go onto to win the event. He was starting his second lap, i was starting my first.
I was in awe.

So, my first lap started and i knew what i was in for, spin up SH Lane done it loads of times no worries, anywhere downhill i’d go for it....at this point i was passing people and thought i might be on for a 2 hour lap (my best was 2.16 on the open roads) it seemed to be going well and quickly i was at the start of the lap again and going through the crowds up Babylon lane and loving it. I quickly stopped for a pee and (i have to say this as its now the law in race reports) the obligatory mid pee fart. Got a new Gatorade took on some water and replenished my gels into my pockets from my seat pack.
Ok off up SH lane again.

As i passed the timing mat i looked at my watch for the first time.......Hang on. Almost 2.20...that cant be right...i must have made a mistake, lets get up the hill and time it again. Over the top, down to Belmont and onto the long drag back towards Blackburn and Chorley. I knew i wasn’t going that fast but ok i still had plenty of time right.

This is where it all suddenly started to go wrong. My back started to spasm whenever i had to put the power down, not really so much in a fast gears but trying to spin up hills was getting more and more difficult. The back half of the lap is pretty up and down and quite technical meaning i was having to change gear a lot but i just couldn’t find the right one for any given situation and anything uphill was agony in my lower back...every push felt like a knife. I got to the second aid station about halfway and stopped to have a stretch and a couple of pills. Refilled my bottles and went again....just after this i heard a shout on my right, it was Hussler on his 3rd lap. He pulled alongside me for a few minutes had a little chat and gave me some encouragement. This gave me a real lift, we also passed my supporters at their 2nd vantage point which was great. Its shame Jason didn’t have a rope to pull me round, i wished him luck and he shot off like an exorcet missile.
Awesome.

After about another 10 miles i started to get really low. The pills were not easing my back i was heading back to the up hill sections and was really starting to feel i wouldn’t make it.
I fought on and got back to my supporters and pulled over. I was at about 80 miles at this point further than i’ve been able to ride before and i knew the writing was on the wall. I was almost in tears as i told my wife i didn’t think i could carry on, they all cheered me up and my wife said just to have a go. Try and get up the hill and if you cant come back down.
So i zipped up my man suit for one last effort, and headed off to massive cheers from not only my people but also people i didn’t know. This was one of the greatest feelings but strangely made it so difficult to fight back tears..i knew i was in a bit of a state here and by this time it was nearly 2 pm and i was ONE HOUR behind my schedule...with a cut off time of 4.30
i knew this would be tight.

I got up the hill down the other side and was going ok when i had a little chat with myself, i figured time was tight and it was decision time , the first of two big ones i would make today. Either pull up and admit you cant get there. Or just give it everything and try. I chose to try. The next 25 miles are a blur to me now, i have no idea how fast i went, no idea if i took on gels or Gatorade, i do know i passed people and that was my tactic, it was getting lonely out there by now but if i saw a bike in the distance (and there were not many) i set my sights on them and tried to catch them. Before i knew it it was about 4.15 and i was heading back to the uphill section...i was going to fail to beat the cut off.
I got to my supporters who were amazing, i shouted i didn’t think i’d make the cut off and they all shouted just to try...GO FOR IT!!!! So i did. Honest its not far, maybe 5 miles from where they were but i went as hard as i could ignoring the pain in my back and in my legs and just pedalled...marshals and what few supporters were left all cheered me....really incredible...i powered on and then i could see the flags of T2.....marshals were waving and yelling come on....come on.....i hit the speedbump just before the timing mat and my seat pack emptied all over the road (obviously hadn’t zipped it properly last time i got something from it) and i was in. ‘Have i made it?’ i asked a bike handler ‘you made it’ she said ‘8 seconds to spare’.

OH CRAP...that means i’ve got to carry on.

I walked into T2, not realising any food or energy i had was now lost, the guys picked up most things and put them back in my pack but i was too dazed and confused to think about getting any of it. I sat down and started to get changed. I didn’t know how much further i could go but i knew there were people in there that HAD made the cut off but decided not to go and try the run. I wasn’t going to give up just yet so out i went....i was second last out of T2 headed onto the dog leg section just walking till i got some water and a banana on board at the first aid station.....i was going to try run 10 walk 1 which i’ve done in training....Yeah right.
Running 1 walking 10 was more like it....
my legs wouldn’t work and when they did my back wouldn’t work so i was up against it...but i had 6 hours left, i’ll just walk. I got to mile 4 which again is the start of 3 laps and my supporters were there. They all cheered me on and i didn’t have the heart to stop and say that once again that i was doubting i could make it so i just carried on. I was moving slow but everybody was and it was good to be around people again.
I took water and a banana at the first aid station (bananas was all they had and by this time were warm and soggy) and tried to run any downhill sections. The sun was now out and i was hot. I got to the second aid station and this time chose flat coke. It tasted ok going down...it tasted horrible coming back 5 minutes later. Now i am NEVER sick....not even from booze...so i knew something was wrong. A few guys asked if i was ok...and told me (sensibly) not to be a hero...so i text Mrs B and told her i was sick and was just going to see how i went for a few minutes.

I got to the cycle path section, saw Gav (well done mate) and stopped for a pee...but i couldn’t pee...so i tried some water...managed about thimble full, and walked on...running was totally out of the questions now....my legs were ok, my back wasn’t even too bad but i just felt so weak. A medic on a push bike stopped me and asked if i was ok (he didn’t just stop me by the way) i told him i’d been a ‘little’ sick and he asked if i could pee...i said not for a couple of hours. He told me i could carry on but to take on at least a full cup of water at the aid station and again not to be a hero. I tried that...about a thimble full almost made me yack again. I saw S11 who gave me an encouraging shout (well done mate) and had a short chat with Gary aka Triumphant (well done mate) and kept moving.

As i neared the turnaround point i was in such a dark place.i was going from sickness to hunger and back again every minute...i couldn’t run, was moving very slow and the worst part...people were saying well done, your going to do it....they thought i was finishing...i never had the heart to say they’d see me again soon. I rounded the corner to the finish chute and it broke my heart....i had to walk to the start of the cute, with people cheering and people running past me hands in the air, cameras flashing hearing ‘YOU ARE AN IRONMAN’ being shouted at people, but i had to turn away, get a band and walk in the other direction. i knew in my heart that i wouldn’t be back, that i wouldn’t hear my name before those words.
Its at this point i had to make the second big decision of the day.
It was now 7.30pm. I’d been on the go for 13.5 hours and it had taken me 2 hours for one lap...i had 3.5 hours left to do 2 more and i knew i would be slower and had nothing more left. Do i keep going...try...see if i can find anything else...or do i admit defeat, not be a hero and call it.

I called it, left the course, called my wife and went to sit down and cried my eyes out.

Ironman was an incredible experience. I learned a lot about myself, i learned that when i thought i couldn’t go on...i actually could...i also learned i’m determined to the point of forgetting everything else i knew i should be doing. Pig headed it might be called but i wanted to finish. The most important thing i learned is that i know when i’m beaten and i was!!!
I’d like to say it was my back that prevented me from finishing...and it did contribute for sure. But i am honest enough to know i cut corners in training, i missed long sessions too often, especially on the bike, if i hadn’t missed them maybe my back would have shown its card and i could have worked on dealing with it properly. I also know the sickness i felt was because i got my nutrition wrong, maybe a sugar overload, maybe just dehydration, i don’t know enough to say for sure.
126 miles and 13.5 hours is a massive achievement people tell me...nobody else i know outside of this club (BCTTT)would even try it...but that’s little consolation to me, i didn’t finish what i started and thats a bitter pill to swallow.

Right now i don’t know if i’ll be back for another go, i’d like to think i will...but knowing how much i gave it this year without making the end,so what i’ll need to give it if i try again i don’t know if i have it in me to commit to that next year....we’ll see.
Ironman is a cruel mistress indeed.