Ironman 70.3 Lanzarote – 5 October 2013

Lanzarote may just be the perfect place for a long distance triathlon. Year-round sunshine, warm sea and challenging terrain for cycling, the spectacular volcanic island off the coast of Africa has it all. No surprise then that the second running of Ironman 70.3 Lanzarote attracted a field of 650 from all over the world. For me it was the climax of the triathlon year, the race that I had geared my entire season around.

I flew out to Lanzarote on the Tuesday before the race. Although the event is run by Club La Santa – basically a holiday resort for fit people – I chose to stay about half an hour away in a much quieter part of the island where I could retreat and relax. I was nervous enough as it was and I don’t think it would have helped to be surrounded 24/7 by over-excited triathletes!!

There was plenty to do to keep me busy in the three days leading up to the race. I spent time doing a recce of the swim course in Le Santa’s Lagoon and I drove round the bike course as well as doing a few light training sessions to stop my body from going to sleep. I was joined on Wednesday by my friends Keith and Laine who were also competing.

Saturday morning came round very quickly. I had tried to get an early night on Friday, but not before  I had swapped texts with Cate to tell her that she could track my progress via the live coverage on the Ironman website. She texted back: “Then we’ll be with you”. I banked that lovely thought – I knew I would need it before Saturday was over.

Nervous before the swim start

As is normal for me on race day I was awake before my alarm went off. I forced down a pre-race breakfast of oats and bananas before gathering my belongings and driving to Club La Santa in the dark. Ninety minutes later I was standing on the beach of the Lagoon with over 600 other nervous competitors watching the sun rise over the horizon, minutes away from the start.

The swim

The swim was a beach start – a nice term for a mad dash to the water followed by a free for all of whirling arms. Kenneth Gasque the flamboyant Race Director was on hand to sound the hooter and Ironman 70.3 Lanzarote 2013 was under way.

The crowded swim!

The 1.9km (1.2 mile) swim was a single lap of the Lagoon and was very crowded from start to finish, which meant there was lots of physical contact. My priority for most of the swim was keeping an eye on what was immediately in front of me to avoid getting a stray foot in the head. The best tactic was to try to stay out of trouble but be ready to defend your space if necessary. I wasn’t completely successful at either and at least once had to barge my way through a gap that wasn’t really there.

Despite the crowd and the constant bumping and bashing I didn’t feel uncomfortable at any point on the swim and was pleased with how I handled it. I got out of the water after about 37 minutes, glad it was behind me but feeling OK.

Swim exit

After a quick dash through the resort to transition I was in the changing tent with all thoughts on the bike leg. By now it was about 8.45am and already the temperature was in the high 70s. I spent a few minutes slapping on the free factor 50 sun cream before heading off on the bike. In my haste to get the lotion on I managed to get it all over my cycling sun glasses – a mistake that was to plague me for the most of the bike leg.

The Bike

The 90km (56 mile) cycle was a big loop around the north of the island. In only a few minutes the built up area of La Santa was replaced by barren countryside and as a taster of what was to come, we were straight into a long hill which took us to the village of Soo. Here we turned north to Caleta de Famara and then across the island via the small towns of Teguise and Tahiche.

Once on the south coast of the island we ground our way through a ten-mile drag from Tahiche on a busy coastal road, cycling into a building 17mph headwind. This was the low-point of the race for me. Progress was slow and my mind wandered. Eventually I had to give myself a bit of a pep talk. I didn’t need reminding that things were just about to get an awful lot harder.

By now the small problem of sun tan lotion on my sunglasses had become a big problem. The addition of a bit of sweat meant I could barely see through them. At the next aid station I stopped to mix an energy drink and ask if they had a cloth. They didn’t but a quick thinking lady volunteer offered me the front of her shirt. I have to confess that I may have spent slightly longer than was strictly necessary cleaning my glasses as we both laughed at the situation!

Glasses clean and drinks replenished I steeled myself for what was likely to be the toughest part of the day and the part which, for many, would define success or failure.

Halfway up the Tabayesco climb

The signature feature of Ironman 70.3 Lanzarote is the Tabayesco Climb – a 6-mile unbroken ascent which took us from sea level to a little under 2,000 feet at the Mirador del Haria. From the bottom it is a daunting sight. You can see the road wind its way up the mountain and somewhere in the distance you can just make out the tourist restaurant which sits at the top. My strategy was simple – no heroics, arse on saddle, low gear, high cadence and take it easy. That approach served me well and I passed lots of people on the way up, pausing to exchange words of encouragement each time. The ascent up Tabayesco, which had worried me more than anything, turned out to be one of the highlights of my race.

The view from the top was breathtaking and gave way to a well earned descent. In contrast to the overcrowded swim, I found myself cycling with just one other person – Piggy (her name was on her race number). I kept about 20 yards behind Piggy and followed her line all the way down. It was an exhilarating 15 minutes as we flew down the mountain at speeds between 30-40 mph back into Teguise.

With the worst of bike leg done, we retraced out steps back to Le Santa finishing off with a couple of miles of downhill where it seemed that for the first time all day, the wind was behind us. I rode back into Club Le Santa and transition after 56 miles of cycling and over 5,000 feet of climbing with 3.56hrs on my bike computer.

It was now about midday and the sun was high in the sky and the temperature into the mid-80s. Not the conditions the average Englishman would choose in which to run a half marathon. Once again I invested a few minutes in transition covering myself in high factor sun cream.

The Run

The 20.1km (13.1 mile) run course was a 4.4 mile lap from the stadium at Club Santa to the nearby village of La Santa and back which we ran three times. It was not an imaginative course, but because everyone was somewhere on a 2.2 mile stretch of road, it made it easy for spectators and so there was lots of fantastic support. Another plus of the layout was that by placing just three aid stations on the run we were able to pass an aid station 18 times in 13 miles, or as my one-track mind saw it, we were able to drink and douse ourselves in cold water about once every three-quarters of a mile.

Starting my final lap on the run

The first lap was fine. I was pleased to be off the bike and into the final stage and my running legs felt good. My strategy was to set a steady pace of about 9-minutes a mile and walk through the aid stations – not to rest but to be certain that I got as much water down me as I could. I had already drunk about 5 litres of fluid on the bike without a single pee stop, so I knew that dehydrating was a real threat.

By the time I started the second lap I had seen Keith and Laine, both still smiling. The first lap through La Santa village had been a bit of a blur, but the second time round I noticed that all the restaurants and bars were full and people were barbecuing at the side of the road – everyone cheering. The atmosphere was fantastic.

The brilliantly organised aid stations became my focal point. The marshals, mainly Spanish, were very animated leaving you in no doubt what they were offering you. I now know the Spanish for water, energy drink, fruit, Red Bull, flat coke and banana!

As I left the stadium in Club La Santa to start my final 4-mile lap I had been on the go for over 6 hours and I was starting to suffer. I knew the next 40 minutes were going to be tough. My hamstrings were getting tighter, my feet hurt and in my haste to cover my head in water over the previous 90-minutes I had ended up with wet feet – running with wet feet is one of my pet hates.

The race course now resembled a battle ground as the day’s efforts and the baking sun took their toll. Only age-groupers were left on the course and everyone was stuck in their own world trying to get through it. Many were walking, some were sitting on the kerb trying to regroup and sadly some were being taken off the course by the medical team.

So here it was – my Ironman 70.3 had boiled down to a few very tough miles of running. I tried to think positive thoughts to help me through it. I started by unbanking Cate’s lovely text message. I thought about Matilda – my beautiful 11-year old daughter who had spent one too many Sunday breakfasts without her Dad there because he was out on his bike training for this. If there was no other reason to finish I owed it to her.  Between the three of us, slowly but surely, we covered the ground.

The finish line!!!

And suddenly I was running back into the stadium at Club La Santa – just 200 metres between me and a hard earned Ironman 70.3 medal. As I ran round the stadium I tried to enjoy the moment but all I really wanted to do was finish and get off my feet! The finishing chute was a welcome sight. I crossed the line, my arms in the air, with the clock at 6.59 hrs – job done!

I was immediately scooped up by the post race system. First a medal, then a handshake and photo with Race Director Kenneth Gasque who stayed on the finish line for four and a half hours and shook every finisher’s hand. Then I was free. I grabbed a drink, sat down by the side of the race track and took my running shoes and socks off – bliss!

Race Director Kenneth Gasgue…and my medal!!

If you ever want a dose of inspiration, spend an hour or so on the finish line of an Ironman event. I did exactly that and watched a procession of people achieve their ambition. Most impressively I watched Hilary Walker from Serpentine Tri in the 60-64 age group finish (she had kicked my arse on the bike!) and I had the privilege of seeing Peter Norman from the 75-79 age group finish. Both were inspirational.

And finally, in what I discovered is an Ironman event tradition, everyone gathered at the finish to welcome in the final competitor. A minute before the cut off time of 8.30 hours, Joanne Dodd appeared in the stadium to a rapturous reception. As she crossed the line bang on 8.30hrs the noise was deafening – looking around, there were definitely a few wobbly bottom lips going on. I can’t imagine the guts it must take to stick at it in these conditions for eight and a half hours. Take a bow Joanne. Whilst some of the elite performances were impressive, these guys are naturally gifted athletes who are paid to train full time, people like Joanne are the real heroes of this race.

Ironman 70.3 Lanzarote was a great way to end to my season – a real high point. Right now I don’t want to think beyond a few weeks of rest. There is plenty of time to plan what happens next season. For now I am going to afford myself a little time to enjoy what I have done!

The road to Lanzarote

What happened? One moment it was summer and now suddenly it’s Autumn. The Monster Middle and our Club Championships are just specs in my rear view mirror and that dot on the horizon that was Ironman 70.3 Lanzarote, is now dominating the landscape. It is approaching fast – in fact it is a week tomorrow. Yikes!

Once again I am in the horrible two-week no man’s land between training and competing. I finished my volume training almost a week ago and I am now winding down and training lightly in preparation for Saturday week. Some people call it tapering. I could think of another name for it. I hate it!

This time it is slightly different and my anxieties are not the same as usual. Apart from the normal concerns about phantom aches and pains, weight gain and dwindling fitness, this race brings with it a new set of things to fret about.
First it is in another country. I have to pack up my bike into a box and ship it overseas and get all of the rest of my tri kit into a suitcase. Then I just pray that some muscle-bound baggage handler doesn’t bend my bike or send my luggage to Morocco.

Added to that is the worry of forgetting something important. The option of popping home or borrowing something from a club mate doesn’t exist. My only safety net is my flexible friend and the hope that I can find what I have forgotten on the small remote island off the coast of Africa.

Then there is the weather. Lanzarote is on roughly the same line of latitude as the Bahamas with a climate to match. The race is run in October so that the worst of the summer heat has subsided; except this year it hasn’t! Temperatures which should be in the 70s are stuck stubbornly in the 80s and forecast to stay there next week. I am an Englishman – very at home running under 100% cloud cover and a past master at running in the rain. I am less comfortable running in the heat of the blazing midday sun – which if all goes to plan is exactly when I will be cycling towards transition and preparing to set off on a half marathon run on Saturday.

Just to compound my nerves, the list of competitors was published online yesterday. Everyone has a country after their name! Usually I wouldn’t give an athlete in my age group call Julian Hall a second glance. But Julian Hall (South Africa) is altogether a different proposition. This guy has flown half way round the world to kick my arse. I suspect Julian Hall is another age-grouper like me having his day in the sun, but put a country after his name and, in my mind, he is six feet tall wearing a tri suit covered in sponsors’ logo as he strides his way to a sub 1.20hrs half marathon. Then I chuckle to myself when I wonder if he thinks the same when he sees Peter Whent (Great Britain). If only he knew!

Deep down I am really excited. The second week of the taper (which is next week) is always the worst. This time I have lots to do to keep my mind occupied. I fly out on Tuesday. Then I have a bike to build and get serviced, I want to recce the swim course in the lagoon at La Santa, drive round the (horribly hilly) bike course, register, attend briefings, go to a pasta party and do a little bit of training.

I am hopeful it will all fly by and that everything will go to plan so that I can enjoy what should be the highlight of my season. Fingers crossed.

The Monster Middle – 18 August 2013

I drove the three hours to Ely on Saturday afternoon in time to register at Race HQ and attend the first event of the weekend, the pre race pasta party. It was less a party and more an exercise in staying dry on the restaurant terrace where it was held.

I was in Ely for the weekend with ten fellow members of Andover Triathlon Club to take part in the Monster Middle Triathlon. As the wind and rain threatened to spoil our dinner we should have spotted the clue to the next day’s race conditions. I went to bed early that night in my hotel grateful that I wasn’t camping like many other competitors.

My alarm went on Sunday morning at 4.15am but I was already wide awake. As I pushed some porridge around a pot trying to eat as much as I could, the realisation of what I was about to try and do dawned on me. Before today my short triathlon career consisted of three sprint triathlons. This half iron distance race consisting of a 1.2 mile swim, a 52 mile bike and a 13.1 mile run, was about four times the distance. That’s when the nerves really kicked in.

I arrived at Race HQ at about 5.30am as dawn was breaking. There was a quiet buzz around transition as competitors went about their preparation, but not much conversation. I quickly racked my bike, laid out my equipment and then headed off for a short warm up.

Andover Triathlon Club before The Monster Middle

The swim was in the River Ouse and the start was about a kilometre from transition / Race HQ. So half an hour before  the start I put my wet suit on and joined my Andover Tri colleagues and together we made our way down river to the race briefing. Walking down the tow path with a dozen familiar faces, some of whom were old hands at this, helped calm me down a bit.

The Swim

The Mayor of Ely on starting duty

It was an in-water start and as we bobbed around waiting we were treated to a bizarre spectacle. A boat that looked like a canal barge was heading towards us. Standing on the rear deck was the Lady Mayor of Ely in her scarlet robes of office together with her mayoral chains. It was like something out of a Tom Sharp novel. It turned out she was the official starter. Without too much delay we received a countdown and then the hooter. We were off!

The swim course was back up the river past Race HQ to a buoy at about the 1500m mark where we turned back on ourselves and swam the 400m or so to the exit.

The swim underway

Despite some argy-bargy early on I pretty quickly found my rhythm. The narrow river meant the swim was crowded throughout so swimming in a straight line was important. The Lady Mayor came in handy here! As the royal barge led the swimmers up river, her scarlet robes were easy to spot and perfect for sighting. Soon things settled down as everyone found some space.

At about half way the swim course came into the built up area of the Ely riverside district. Here people lined the banks and looked down on us from the overhead bridges cheering us on which made for a great atmosphere. The noise grew louder as we swam past the exit and Race HQ.

Swimming into Ely

As we approached the turning buoy about half a dozen of us converged on it at the same time – cue some more push and shove. Once round the buoy we were funnelled into a narrow channel that took us to the exit and everything got crowded again. I spent most of last couple of hundred metres trying to avoid flying feet and arms. As I stood up unsteadily on the exit ramp a marshal reached out and pulled me until my feet were on solid ground. One 1.9km swim done!

As I ran towards transition I heard Sam Pratt, one of the founders of our club, cheering me on. Sam had driven three hours to Ely to be at the start for 7.00am to support us. I saw Sam later out on the bike course and again on every lap of the run. Monster effort Sam!

Swim exit

My main aim of the day was to get round successfully, but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about the time. If finishing was my main goal, a sub 6.30 hrs time would be nice and a sub 6-hour finish would be the cherry on the icing on the cake. A 40-minute swim, a 3-hour bike and a sub 2-hour run would do it and were all within my reach but being a first-timer I had no idea what the cumulative effect of all three would be. I didn’t know it at the time, but I had finished the swim in 33.53 mins so I was off to a good start.

I didn’t rush through transition choosing to take time to get some nutrition on board before setting off on the bike. In retrospect maybe four and a quarter minutes was a bit too leisurely – more of a picnic!

The Bike

The bike course was a short “out” leg and then twice round a 25 mile circuit. The loop started on the Ely ring road which was fast. Determined to pace myself, I watched quite a lot bikes pass me at this stage. It was hard seeing them all head off up the road but I knew the important thing right now was to concentrate on my own race.

I was just settling down into a nice rhythm when I heard a cry of  “Oy Oy!” behind me. There was only one person that voice belonged to. My team mate Jason Briley came zipping past me on his new tri bike. Cycling is his strong suit and with his new bike he was a man on a mission. He was here today to break his PB and he was en route to taking an astonishing 1:30 hrs off his previous best time for a half iron distance triathlon.

Once we left the ring road, the quality of roads deteriorated. In fact the further we got from Ely the worse the roads became. The wind was also picking up and it seemed that we hit the worst of the head winds when we were on the worst of the roads. The wind was even stronger and more uncomfortable on the second lap. Despite that I felt good for nearly all of the bike leg and in the last ten miles even started overtaking some of those people who had overtaken me 40 miles earlier. The tortoise and the hare and all that!

As I rode back through town and into T2 I wasn’t sorry to see the end of the bike leg and being buffeted by the wind. My bike computer showed my average speed was over 17mph so I figured I must be roughly on track for sub-6 hours. That of course was dependant on whether my running legs turned up. My time for the bike leg was 2:56:34 hrs

The Run

I got through T2 in just over 2 minutes. As I was going through my routine I heard a voice behind shout: “Come on slacker!”

It was Dan Mason and Jase Lewis standing watching me. Jase, another club member, is injured but had driven from Portsmouth with his wife to support us and to marshal for the day. Triathlon needs more people like Jase! Dan has a qualifying race for the European Champs coming up in about three-weeks and so he had taken the cautious option and pulled out of the race when an old  ankle injury starting hurting on the run.

The run course was a 2.5 mile out leg and then four circuits of a little over 2.5 miles each which took us through the middle of Ely and round the cathedral. It was very scenic and very atmospheric but also had two pretty noticeable hills in it – so much for a flat course! My legs were soon over the bike but it took me a good twenty minutes to get into a steady rhythm. But once I did I felt pretty good and just focused on keeping a steady comfortable pace.

The City Centre part of the course was great fun. The population of Ely seem to have really taken this event their hearts and a lot of them had turned out to cheer. Having spent almost four hours alone it was good to see some Andover Club tri suits as I ran. I saw Pete Dennet, Pete Holt and John Simmonds all heading for good finishes. Shaun Green, our eventual club champion, passed me as he started his fourth lap having already finished once! Even with a pause at Race HQ between his third and fourth laps he was still our fastest finisher by nearly ten minutes.

Each lap got a little harder. No sooner were you boosted by the support as you ran past race HQ and collected another of the four wristbands required to finish, than you were straight into one of the long hills at the start of the next lap. As I started the last lap there were lots of signs of the race taking its toll. Queues of people were walking up the hills or stopping altogether. I am pleased to say that with the exception of a couple of drinks stations were I walked as I drank, I ran the whole thing.

The marshals were working overtime encouraging everyone. One marshal in particular on the High Street was continuously cajoling and motivating people. On my last lap I stopped to thank him – he was one of the highlights of the run. The other highlight was running past the finish area each time where the ubiquitous Sam Pratt was standing and encouraging us. I needed all of that encouragement for the last few miles where I had to dig in a bit to keep my pace up. I had been on the go for somewhere around 5-6 hours and I could feel it. As I reached the top of the last hill I finally started to celebrate – less than a mile left part of which was downhill.

As the last lap drew to a close I turned off the road and past transition and headed for the finish line. The first person I saw was Jason Briley with a big grin on his face. Jason and his powers of persuasion are single-handedly responsible for me doing this race. As I approached he yelled at me:

“I told you you could do it!” He seemed genuinely pleased for me.

After 5.35 hours – the finish at last!

He was the first person I high fived as I ran down the finishing chute. As I crossed the line the race’s sound system was booming out: “What’s that coming over the hill, it is monster, is it a monster?”

The Aftermath.

Once I had my medal and some water, I wandered over to the timing tent to get a print out of times and splits. I felt as though I may have crept in under 6 hours so could hardly believe my eyes when I read it. I had finished in 5:35:32 hrs, twenty five minutes inside my most ambitious target – helped by A 1.58 hr half-marathon. That’s either an advert for not wearing a watch or for a flat course.

When I rejoined the rest of the Andover Tri crew everyone was very excited as we waited and cheered all of our club members over the finish line. There were lots of PBs and an age group podium place. Andover Tri had given a very good account of itself. What a club!

Congratulations to Shaun Green who was first from our club to finish in 4.44 hrs but would have finished a lot faster but for some confusion over the lap count. Congratulations also to Louisa Vere who was our Ladies Champion and who finished third overall in her age group.

So that is The Monster Middle behind me. It was a really enjoyable race and a great day out for Andover Triathlon Club. I think a middle distance club championship may become an annual fixture.

Next up for me is a light week of rest and recovery exercise and then six weeks of training before Ironman 70.3 Lanzarote where the bike leg, like Ely will be windy, but unlike Ely will most definitely not be flat! I think some hill training is on the menu for me.

Those Andover Tri Club results in full:

Name	Age Group	Swim	Bike	Run	Total
Shaun Green	45 – 49	00:27:07	02:15:44	01:59:08	04:44:09
Jason Briley	40 – 44	00:40:42	02:20:41	01:47:48	04:51:59
Peter Dennett	45 – 49	00:32:36	02:31:11	01:49:03	04:56:28
David Hall	35 – 39	00:31:24	02:35:01	01:54:05	05:02:56
Matthew Streets	30 – 34	00:33:07	02:39:00	01:59:15	05:16:29
Chris Thompson	40 – 44	00:28:59	02:27:21	02:22:52	05:21:44
Louisa Vere	25 – 29	00:35:09	02:51:03	02:02:04	05:32:15
Peter Whent	50 – 54	00:33:53	02:56:34	01:58:25	05:35:32
Peter Holt	40 – 44	00:42:02	03:00:27	02:22:57	06:09:46
Jon Simmonds	40 – 44	00:41:40	03:24:56	02:34:42	06:47:08
Dan Mason	35 – 39				DNF

What’s that coming over the hill, is it a…………….

No, this hasn’t suddenly turned into a music review blog. But this song has some meaning at the moment. That is because I haven’t been able to get it out of my head for the last week. For the uninitiated, what is coming over the hill in the Automatic’s song is a monster! (Fast forward to 42 seconds to hear the catchy chorus that is trapped in my head)

And that is exactly what is coming over the hill for me – not a monster, but The Monster, or The Monster Middle if you are being exact. It is my first ever half-iron distance triathlon and it takes place in six days.

So this week is the week I hate. It is the week when you are stuck in a maddening no-mans’ land. Not close enough to the day yet to be going to the venue and getting swept up in the race day atmosphere, but too close to do any more serious training.

Far enough away for you to feel that all your fitness is draining away and too close to be able to do anything about it.

The Monster Middle

Far enough away that you think that without exercise you are piling on the pounds, but knowing that what you should really be doing is upping the carbohydrate intake. More food and less exercise? It sounds like a world I used to inhabit.

And its the week when you lose all sense of reason. Over the last few months I have managed 10-mile runs, 45-mile bike rides and 2-mile swims without serious injury, but for some reason this week I think if I so much as lift a shopping bag my arm will fall off. Every little twinge I feel is instantly a grade two muscle tear.  Tapering sucks.

Training hasn’t stopped but it has wound down to a few easy sessions to remind my resting body not to go to sleep completely. A program that three weeks ago contained almost eight hours of training now has a little over two. As a result I have too much free time!

I am trying to fill my time with constructive race related activity but there are only so many times you can lay your race kit out on the bed, check you have enough energy drink for the bike or gels for the run, read the race instructions from start to finish or check the weather forecast. I have lost count of the number of times I have looked at the course on Google Earth or checked the organisers Facebook page for updates or sat with a calculator working out what my finish time might be.

And just occassionally when I do manage to relax and concentrate on something other than the race, that f****** song comes into my head and off we go again!!

I need that monster to come over the hill a bit quicker than it is coming at the moment!!

The Blenheim Palace Triathlon – 9 June 2013

Having pulled out of the Bath Half Marathon in March with an injury, the Blenheim Palace Triathlon was my season-opener. Blenheim is one of the largest triathlon events in the country with over 5,000 competitors racing over two days and has a reputation for a tremendous atmosphere, so I was extra excited as I set off from home on Sunday at 6.00am.

Pre-race

Blenheim Palace

The scale of the event is immediately obvious. The moment you drive through the main gates you are greeted by an army of volunteers, acres of car parking and a large tented village. That was all before I wheeled my bike into the spectacular transition area which is basically the palace’s main courtyard.

The incredible transition area in the palace’s courtyard

As luck would have it my allocated racking spot was directly opposite the elite women. Just a few yards from me South Africa’s Gillian Sanders and Britain’s Vicky Holland, both Olympic triathletes, were going through their pre-race routine. Half an hour later I was treated to a front row seat as they flew through their swim-to-bike transition – it was incredible to watch.

Preparation done and wet suit on, I joined the procession down to the swim assembly area by the lake with 200 other nervous triathletes. Here I met up with two of my club mates – Chris Edwards and Gina Graham who were in the same wave as me. It was great to see them and chatting excitedly with  them momentarily took my mind off what was to come.

The race kicked off with an in-water start which meant we had five minutes in the lake to acclimatise before the off. While we waited I made my way to the buoy at the far end of the start line thinking there would be less traffic there but arrived to find a lot of other people had the same idea! Then, without warning, the hooter went and we were racing!

The swim

 The 750 metre swim course consisted of a long straight  “out” leg of about 600 metres. Then a hairpin turn round a buoy and a short swim to the exit at the Fisherman’s Boathouse.

The swim start

As we crossed the start line I found myself more in the melee than I wanted to be and braced myself for some whirling arms and legs. Luckily a gap appeared right in front of me allowing me to swim the first few minutes in clear water. As the field spread out and things settled down I relaxed and tried to get into a steady rhythm. I was pleased with how calm I remained during the swim – this has not always been the case in previous attempts!

Eventually after an incident-free 600 metres I reached the turning buoy alongside two other people. Just a few minutes later we were at the swim exit. A helpful marshal grabbed my hand to pull me out and in a moment my feet were on terra firma with the swim under my belt in 14.16mins – well inside my 15 minute target. But the swim had a sting in the tail

The swim exit

 The route from the swim exit to transition was a 400 metre run, uphill, with a wet suit on. Not my favourite part of the race.

The Bike

Transition passed without any mishaps and as I had racked almost next to the bike exit I was able to get away quite quickly.

The bike leg was three laps of a 6.6 kilometre route through the stunning parkland estate. It was billed as a flat course. The first few hundred metres took us down a sweeping hill in front of the palace at speed with a large crowd looking on. Plenty of scope to get over excited and carried away which was exactly what I did! The next kilometre was an exhilarating ride but then came a hill – so much for a flat course. I don’t know if it was the run from the lake or the over exuberance at the start of the bike but I was paying for something going up the hill.

What goes up must come down and having crested the hill we were treated to another fast downhill section only interrupted by a cattle grid, which luckily had boards over it. Then came the oddest but most frustrating moment of the day.

The bus and bridge incident that caused so much frustration on the bike leg

A footbridge over the road had been damaged on Friday by a bus driver who hadn’t understood what 10 feet clearance meant as he attempted to drive his 11 foot bus under it. The bridge was closed and so spectators had to walk across the road in the path of oncoming cyclists. To avoid any mishaps health and safety had decreed that all cyclists had to dismount 10 yards in front of the crossing and remount 10 yards after it on each lap. The bus driver may have been the most unpopular man at Blenheim on Sunday!

The next two laps were like the first – fast downhill overtaking; painful laboured uphill being overtaken and grumbling at the dismount! Not for the first time in my short triathlon career I felt vulnerable on the bike. I finally pulled back into transition after 45.03 minutes which gave me an average speed of 16.5mph. I was in and out of transition in just over two minutes – an age compared to Vicky Holland but I don’t feel like I hung around.

The run

Ironically the run started by taking us over a footbridge to avoid oncoming cyclists on the road below!! After a few minutes to get my legs working I felt good for most of the run – a great advert for training at Camp Corfu!!

The 5.4km run course was two laps round the lake. Once again we were lulled into a false sense of our own ability with a downhill stretch on the way out and made to pay coming back up the hill on the return. Just to ensure it was really uncomfortable they put a drinks station half way up the hill.

In contrast to the bike leg I felt in control on the run, varying my pace to suit the terrain and passing more people than passed me.

After the second lap we carried straight on down the front drive of Blenheim Palace into the smartest finishing straight I have experienced. My run time for 5.4km was 27.18 mins which is 8-minute mile pace. I was pleased with that. My total time was 1:34:02 hours.

The aftermath

Andover Tri Club dominates the podium!!
(Chris, me and Gina)

The finish area had a bit of a carnival atmosphere. I waited there to watch Chris and Gina finish. As we chatted about our races we noticed the podium which had been set out for the elite prize-giving ceremony later. We couldn’t resist and jumped on for a quick Andover Tri Club photo. Why not? It may be the only time I ever stand on a triathlon podium!

Congratulations to my other clubmates Helen Hunter who raced in the Female Sprint on Saturday and Nick Wall who raced the Male Sprint later on Sunday.

Blenheim is a great venue for an event like this (barring careless coach drivers). It has a course that is beginner friendly or that can be attacked by a more experience campaigner. The large crowds and multiple races give it a festival atmosphere. And as for the setting – I am not sure it is what they had in mind when they built the Duke of Marlborough’s ancestral home, but it is difficult to imagine somewhere more suited to triathlon. I will definitely come back.

Professor Marathon: What the London Marathon results teach us about pacing

About 3 miles into the 2012 London Marathon I came across a girl called Kayla who I had run most of a half-marathon with about 2 months previously. I asked her what her race plan was. Her answer was interesting:

“I plan to do the first half in 9 minute miles, then step up to 8.30 minutes miles until the last 10k and then try to give it a big finish.”

I remember thinking at the time what a brave plan it was and I would be impressed if she did it. We split up at mile 13 as she picked up the pace and I stopped for 10 seconds to high-five my family and friends standing at the side of the road.

Being older and more conservative, I planned to try to run the whole race at exactly the same pace – 9 minutes a mile. As things turned out neither of us succeeded in our aim that day, but interestingly I caught and overtook Kayla at 23 miles. She had completely blown up and was running at little more than a shuffle. I would love to tell you that I strode past her confidently but in truth I was just shuffling faster than she was.

This story is a great illustration of the perils of marathon pacing and is worth a closer look. I am not a coach so I am going to use some facts from the results of last year’s London Marathon to illustrate a point.

If you divide the marathon in two and measure your splits as two half marathons then you have three possible outcomes. You can run the first half of the marathon faster than the second – this is a positive split. You can run the second half faster than the first – a negative split or do them in the same time – a neutral split.

Kayla’s race plan would have given her a negative split. It is what everyone dreams of. Use the first half marathon to find your feet and then roar home during the second half. The negative split is the Holy Grail – even for the elites. But when you are thinking about your marathon pace, let history and experience be your guide. Statistically a negative split is very difficult to achieve.

In an effort to gain some insight into marathon splits, I have laid my hands on a spreadsheet showing the results for all 36,665 finishers of last year’s London Marathon. I have analysed the results of everyone who finished in between 3 hours and 5 hours. In total that was 24,927 people.

First let’s look at how common a negative split was. Of these just 1,151 managed to run the second half faster than the first. The other 23,776 ran the second half slower. So just one in 20 people managed a negative split.

In the London Marathon as a whole 1,383 runners ran a negative split compared to 35,282 runners who ran the second half slower than the first.

Second let’s look at the uglier side of that statistic and analyse the number of people in the same group who hit the wall, many of whom may well have done this by trying to run a negative split. I have counted anyone who took more than 30 minutes longer to run the second half than the first as having hit the wall. To put this in perspective, Kayla in her completely exhausted state, ran the second half just under 10 minutes slower than the first so would not have hit the wall according to my definition. This will give you an idea of how dramatically slower a 30 minute difference is. 3,314 poor runners in the 3-5 hour bracket fell victim to the wall, meaning that three times more people hit the wall than ran a negative split. This might not be just because they got their pacing wrong – poor nutrition could also cause this – but pacing will surely have contributed.

This just confirms what I experienced which is that the second half of the marathon is much harder than the first. In particular the last 6-8 miles is tough. Someone once said that a marathon is a 20-mile prelude to the hardest 10k you will ever run and that is about right.

If you are running a Spring marathon, before you decide on your pace strategy and contemplate attempting a negative split don’t listen to me listen to yourself. Ask yourself this question and answer it honestly: “How am I going to manage what 35,282 people in last year’s London Marathon, including all of the top runners, couldn’t?”

Whatever your race plan – good luck?

The night before your first Marathon

On Sunday a Twitter friend of mine is going to run her first Marathon in Florida. Following her tweets describing her preparation has brought back all the wonderful memories of training for and completing my first Marathon in London almost a year ago. The motivation, anxieties and excitement of the occasion were captured in this blog post that I wrote the night before I ran. I hope it helps to inspire my friend and everyone who is running their first Marathon on Sunday.

This was originally posted on 20th April 2012

“Every journey has a beginning and this journey started on the streets of Camberley, a town in Surrey, where as an 11-year-old I would run around the town centre on errands for my Mother. I ran because it got me where I was going faster and I enjoyed it. In my teens and twenties I ran because I found I could compete. And now I am a born again runner whose love for the sport has never been greater. I am a runner. Not because I have a certificate that says I am. I am a runner because I run and I run because I love it.

I also run for another reason. I run because I can. Time has taught me not to presume this is my right. None of us know what is round the corner. My Father, once a proud and charismatic man, sits in a nursing home surrendering to the onset of dementia. My beautiful 11-year old niece suffers with Chrone’s disease and faces days of constant pain. My Wife is asthmatic and struggles to draw breath every day. My friend Phil will spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair after a tragic car accident. What wouldn’t these people give for this gift I take for granted.

Each of the 35,000 runners who start Sunday’s London Marathon will have their own motivation for taking part. Some are driven by the will to win, some by the clock, some to help causes close to their hearts and for many it is simply about challenging themselves. The London Marathon has given me the opportunity to challenge many things in my life. That I am still athletic. That I can still take on a challenge. Some would call it a mid-life crisis – I would call it one of the most cathartic experiences of my life. But most of all it has allowed me to prove to myself that I won’t be complacent and take my gift for granted; that I will not let age be a barrier; that I will not let time be an excuse, but that I will make the most of the gift I have because I can.

Standing on the start line on Sunday will be a group of people bonded by this incredible event. A group of people who have committed themselves, in some cases to the point of obsession, to achieving their goal. They have lost count of the times they have risen from their beds in the dark to train while most people slept. They have run hundreds of miles braving Arctic temperatures and all kinds of weather. They have spent countless hours on long lonely runs. Only they will understand how much of a challenge this has been. Only they will know that the bravery of the Marathon runner isn’t about crossing the finish line, it is about having the courage to conquer the fear of standing on the start line. And above all they will understand that Sunday’s London Marathon isn’t about the 26.2 miles that a million spectators will see, but about the hundreds of miles they haven’t seen.

My London Marathon journey has been far harder than I ever imagined it would be. But is has also been the experience of a lifetime. I wouldn’t have missed a moment of what has gone so far. Yet the hardest part is to come. As a continuous endurance event, I have no doubt that my 26.2 mile run on Sunday will be one of the toughest things I have done. As I run beyond 18 miles and into the unknown, I don’t doubt that my spirit will be challenged and I will need to find something that I haven’t had to find at any stage in my training. But at that moment I will remind myself of every step I have taken reach this point. I will think of those people I have listed above, draw on the inspiration that their determination gives me and remind myself that I run because I can and I run because I love it.

Tomorrow I am going to run the Virgin London Marathon.”

Getting emotional

You know that you are on a mission when you are willing to get out of bed at 6.00am on a Sunday morning and run 10 miles in the dark wearing three layers of running kit with the temperature at minus a lot. This is what I did in February of this year when faced with the prospect of missing a long training run because of a family lunch commitment.

The mission I was on was to run the London Marathon. From the moment I signed up I was single-minded – almost to the point of obsession. Whether it was equipment, nutrition, mental strategy or long training runs, I was all over it. And once I had committed to trying to finish in less than four hours I went into turbo-charged obsession although my wife has another word for it!

I experienced the opposite this summer when I was training for a triathlon. I would juggle training sessions, find reasons not to do every brick session and if in doubt I fell back on what I liked best – running. This wasn’t from any lack of motivation to do the triathlon, I just hadn’t engaged with the whole thing. Part of this was because I didn’t have a clear idea of how to structure a triathlon training program – but that should have been easy to solve. The real reason was because I hadn’t committed myself emotionally. This process of getting my head into the game is really important for me and explains the difference between my summer of “keep fit” sessions ending with a triathlon versus my winter of fanatical dedication culminating in one of the most wonderful endurance events I have experienced.

In the last few weeks I have been planning next year’s racing. Part of my problem this year was that I didn’t think beyond April and the marathon. With my “A” race done and dusted by mid-April and no further plans, I confess that I drifted a bit. So for next year I am planning my “A” race for much later in the season.

If I am to get my head into the game then I also know that my “A” race has got to be something that I really want to do. The London Marathon was a lifelong ambition. On the other hand The Valley Leisure Triathlon that I trained for after the marathon, as good as I am sure it was, didn’t have quite the same pull and may partially explain my less than focused approach. So I have gone for another big one in 2013.

My plan for 2013 is to do Ironman 70.3 Lanzarote in October as my “A” race and I am building my summer around that. In an effort to build a good base of fitness over the Winter I am going to do the Bath Half Marathon in March. Then, after a short rest I am going to take 10 weeks to train for the Blenheim Sprint Triathlon in June. A group of us from Andover Triathlon Club are doing Blenheim so I am really looking forward to that. After another brief rest and recovery period it’s straight into a 16-week training program to get me to Lanzarote on 5 October. I will sprinkle a few other shorter events and at least one Olympic distance tri into the summer months to help get my endurance up and keep it interesting.

Next stop was to go, plan in hand, to talk it through with one of the club coaches at Andover Tri. I got the thumbs up that it all made sense and straight away I felt the old feeling coming back. As I mapped out my 12-weeks of run training for the Bath Half Marathon I felt the butterflies start to kick in and the switch in my head move to “committed”. Game on!

I have spent the last month trying to build a running fitness base. My Bath Half Marathon training starts on Monday and I am really up for it. The moment I realised I was committed last year was when I nursed one beer all evening at our company Christmas party because I had to get up and run the next morning. The Christmas party this year is a week on Tuesday and I plan to run the next day. I’ll let you know!!!