Break Your Limits

The day started with an early alarm, well I say early, those of you who have trained for an Ironman will be very familiar with those bells that ring out at 4:00am-ish to start your first training session of the day, so, let’s just say ‘the alarm went off at 4:00am’. After stuffing the last few carbs I could stomach down my throat, I headed off to transition which opened at 4:30.

A quick once over of the bike, fill my water bottles with Gatorade, pump up the tyres, then it was back to the caravan to change into my wetsuit, and before I knew it, I was standing knee deep in water listening to the national Anthem and watching helicopters flying overhead.

There’s something about the start of an Ironman for me. It’s a wonderful and moving feeling looking at all the other athletes around you, watching them coping with their pre-race nerves, the copious couples sharing their last few minutes together before they set out on their epic individual journeys.

The siren sounded and we were off. I’m not the strongest swimmer, so I start in the 3^rd fastest wave, but very soon, I found myself passing people who were from the 2 faster waves, more candidates from that well known  group of athletes who get ability and ambition mixed up I thought. Before too long, the first turning buoy appeared and the space that I was able to enjoy on the way out, soon disappeared and things got a little, let’s just say physical. The return journey was a little better once we passed the second turning buoy about 30m to the right, but it did get a little crowded again once we passed the final buoy which directed us to the swim exit.

A quick look up at the clock as I ran up the beach and instantly I realised I was faster than last year, even if it was only 2 minutes.

Into T1, which is very ‘gentlemanly’ compared to your normal triathlon, and then straight on to the bike. ‘Don’t go too mad, just stay comfortable’ (well as comfortable as you can be over 180km) I thought to myself, which is what I did for pretty much the remainder of the ride. My goal was to get close to what I did the previous year (5hrs 14mins). Throughout the ride, I had no idea of my time; all I looked at was my average. Although I didn’t know my exact average, I knew it was around the 36-37km/hr mark. Last year I averaged 34 so I must be quicker I thought to myself. I knew a 36km/hr average would give me a 5 hour bike; I would be so delighted with that.

The main Busselton turnaround...

The bike leg ended so fast, it really didn’t feel like 5 hours in the saddle. Into T2, where you hand your bike to one of the volunteers to rack (a very strange feeling if you’re used to normal triathlons) and then run up to collect your ‘run bag’. As soon as I sat down, my legs cramped. ‘We’ve had a lot of that today’, said one of the helpers. ‘Great’, I thought. I managed to stretch it out after a few seconds so I headed off for the run, and as soon as I started running, I knew something wasn’t right. I just wanted to throw up. I had this feeling on the bike, but it wasn’t as bad as this.

After about 5 minutes, I saw Ray and the others all cheering. I ran passed and within about 100m, my body came to a complete stop, I just stood there frozen to the spot. After about 30 seconds, I managed to shuffle my feet forward, slowly increasing my stride length until I was able to run again. But as soon as I ran, I had this uncontrollable urge to be sick. I thought about sticking my fingers down my throat but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, although talking on one other athlete, he had the same feeling and did manage to (It didn’t help). I walked through the aid stations, and as soon as I did, the feeling went, however now I had the dilemma of not being able to stomach anything else sweet and energy filled, but also desperately needing fuel to get me through the remainder of the run. I decided to stick to water and ice for the next few aid stations to see how I go.

On completing the first lap, I was 15 minutes behind my goal time. I knew this would be virtually impossible to make up as things would only get harder, not easier.

By the start of the second lap, my run had fallen into a regular pattern of run, feel sick, continue running, feel even more sick, cramp, stop, walk, walk fast, shuffle, slowly start running, feel sick….you get the picture. However, by the start of the 3^rd lap, and after lots of ice water and melon, my desire to throw up over my fellow athletes had subsided. All I was left with was an inability to run no further than 200m without cramping.

This wasn’t how it was meant to be I thought. This never happened in training. All those long rides, with runs off the bike, why did this never happen then. So why me, why now…..Welcome to the world of IRONMAN.

As the 3^rd and final lap came to an end, I said to myself, this is the last Ironman I’m going to do. Less than one week later, I’m already planning my next assault.

So thanks to all the BYL supporters who cheered me on and offered words of encouragement throughout a long hot day. Thank you to all the spectators who will never read this, who don’t know me from Adam, but call out your name and encourage you to keep going when things aren’t going they way you planned.

A big well done to all the BYL athletes who competed in what was truly a very tough race. You all posted amazing times.

And once again, a big thank you to Ray the King of Coaches…say no more!