The seas were angry that day my friends...
Hey! I've been writing this blog for like a year now, I'm entitled to one Seinfeld quote, besides, it's appropriate.
Race day had arrived finally, it's just before 6am and pitch black outside the pools of light cast by the venue spotlights. In transition, my bike is finally loaded up with the all I'll need to keep both myself and it rolling for the 6 hours I plan to be on it. Today, for the first time the rear wheel's spokes have been covered by two polycarbonate shields to cut the turbulence and create a more aerodynamic profile. In normal race conditions, a disk wheel can be a real advantage, in high winds however, the wheel can catch the cross winds and make it very difficult for the rider to hold their line. Today, the winds are up.
There had been news the previous day that the swim course had been altered due to the dangerous conditions so we were prepared for the change. Waiting in the port-a-loo line I heard another announcement that the swim was changing again, the plan B of a two lap triangle swim was now now reduced to a single lap. The water was deemed too dangerous for athletes to be in for the full duration.
As I met up with the rest of my training group and listened to the further announcements about the race alterations and the adverse weather I laid down and rested. From all accounts, it was to be a tough day out and as the wind whipped the various branding flags around I noted that this was the calmest I had ever been before any race. I was ready to do this.
On the sand and in the water before the start I caught up and chatted with many of the people I had met and trained with since joining this sport, many about to begin their first Ironman and again it struck me that none seemed nervous. Standing on this precipice should be a daunting thing but the time and sweat we had put into the lead-up had given us all the confidence to stare it down.
More than 2000 of the fittest athletes were launched from the shallow beach, not with a cannon nor the traditional air horn, instead, Mike Reilly shouting over the PA system "Go Go!"
Almost immediately, two things happened. Fellow athletes tried desperately to disprove the laws of physics that state that no two bodies can occupy the same space; and the seal of my trusty goggles proved to be less trust worthy. Unable to see with my right eye and only partially with the left I gave up trying to spot the directional buoys and instead blindly (hah) followed the thrashing feet of the multitudes ahead of me. The plan work fine until we all reached a complete standstill at the top of the course. Treading water in one - two metre swells 800 metres of shore against a wall of like-minded (and increasingly grumpy) competitors was never in my race plan, the experience did have the happy bonus of allowing me to investigate and fix my goggle problem.
Half an hour after entering the water I was back on the sand with a bit of beach to cover due to the strong currents on the return. More the past several months I had been successfully nursing a repeating strain to my left calf. Every time my program called for a run I would wear a compressive calf brace. The injury had not returned for months - until I started running off the sand. Within the first few strides I felt it begin to tighten up again and I'm not too proud to admit that I dropped the F-bomb. I could not believe that I had done everything right to get here, when it had given me trouble I had rested it. I had taken precautions to reduce the incidence and the week prior to the race I had followed the program and tapered to be ready. Now, with all of my friends and family here to support me somewhere along the 220km route ahead I was facing the very real prospect of dumb luck bringing me undone. Smiling as I ran through the crowd and into transition and out onto the bike course I tried to put the potential failure of the run out of my head and just focus on the task at hand.
I love cycling.
I don't know what it is, the freedom to fly perhaps, I just know it works for me. Facing a possible 6 hours in the saddle might be daunting, but at least this time I was going somewhere. For almost a year, the only times I have accomplished this feat it has been in the garage with the bike mounted on a stationary trainer. There was no blockbuster movie to watch today, but the was scenery and a bit of a blockbuster headwind in my face.
Conscious that this was a long ride and reminded of the coaches words that the key is to get to the run fresh enough to run I never once checked my pace on the ride. Instead, my Garmin was set to tell me about my cadence and to remind me to eat every time it calculated I had burned 350 calories (Ollie tells us to set it for 300 but when I trialled that I just couldn't stomach the volume I was consuming - 350 is my compromise between the coach's instruction and my tummy's ultimatum) Keeping to a high cadence and a mid range perceived effort proved rather difficult due to the sheer number of cyclists on the course. Triathlon rules prevent drafting, for this race, the illegal draft distance to the leading bike is 12 meters and you have 25 seconds to close that gap to complete a pass. To avoid riding illegally I was constantly having to drop back (and hope the cyclists drafting off me did the same) or speed up to overtake groups of cyclists, each time worrying that I would pay for that extra effort somewhere deeper into the race.
Near the bike turn around point there is a tunnel that goes under a river, due to the depth it must reach to navigate below the river bed the roadway becomes rather steep. Descending into the yellowed light the first time had me wondering if I should have reached for the bike's base bar instead of remaining n the aero extensions. As the speed increased and I flew passed others I just gritted my teeth and held one.
It. Was. Awesome.
I have no idea of what speeds were achieved as my watch was relying solely on a GPS signal, all I know is that my bike descended like a demon.
Back towards Frankston with the wind at my back and again the ride became fun, until the crosswinds picked up, with many gusts catching the solid disk on the back of my bike The bike course is a two lap affair so as I rolled back into town and the cheering crowds I knew I had two more 45km straights to complete, the first into the wind, the final one with the wind. I had noted a number landmarks on the first trip around, this time I tried to remember them to give mean indication of how much of the track lay ahead. At this task I failed dismally as at many of the undulations I thought I spotted the ramp to the tunnel only to approach and find another hill. Finally on the final 45km and ready for mother nature to assist me home I discovered that the wind direction had changed, it would again be a battle. Half way back and into the crosswinds again and I was ready to get off this bike. Feet and back tightening up I had to stop peddling a number of times just to stretch them. I was a very grateful camper when I was able to hand the machine over to the catcher and run back into transition.
As I indicated, my back was in spasm and the arches of my feet tight, however, the 180km on the bike turned out to be just what the doctor ordered for my strained calf. 5:44 of cycling had done the trick, a few stretches in the change tent for my back I was off on the final leg of this journey.
If you've read some of my previous entries you'll know that running is not my strongest link and my last recon run of this course showed that I need to conserve plenty in the tank for the 3rd 10km section where the hills kick in. This day, as I began the marathon I was still feeling pretty good, especially when I spotted a number of family members who had come out to support me on the day. Holding a decent pace I ticked of the kilometres and just lapped up the energy being dosed out by the crowds. It was amazing the number of people out there cheering us on and a good many of them took the time to read our race bibs and personalize their encouragement with our names. The marathon course is dotted with 20 aid stations and my goal was to roll through each one, grab a drink at each, ice when I could, a gel at every second one and thank the volunteers.
So much of my focus had been to get to Brighton (indication the end of the hills and a flat run home) that when I got there and found I was still running and it was still daylight I was pretty excited. This was home ground here, territory I had run many times and, with the curvature of the bay it was fun to try and spot where exactly the finish line was in the distance.
Approaching the finish line, still running well and though the sun was low in the sky it was still tidily above the horizon. Ten hours and forty-seven minutes after the chaos of the mass start I heard Mike Reilly calling out over the public address system again. Ironman. I had not only achieved what I set out to do 12 months ago,I had smashed my goals. I had wanted to finish within 12 hours, even accounting for the reduced swim I had done this easily. More over, I wanted to finish on my terms, I wanted to take the course on, to beat it and I had done this too. According to my race stats, during the final leg of the race I had actually run down over 100 competitors, 30 of them from within my age group, and I had loved every moment of it.
So, that's it. It's all over.
I guess that just leaves one thing to do...
Do it all again next year!
Hey! I've been writing this blog for like a year now, I'm entitled to one Seinfeld quote, besides, it's appropriate.
Race day had arrived finally, it's just before 6am and pitch black outside the pools of light cast by the venue spotlights. In transition, my bike is finally loaded up with the all I'll need to keep both myself and it rolling for the 6 hours I plan to be on it. Today, for the first time the rear wheel's spokes have been covered by two polycarbonate shields to cut the turbulence and create a more aerodynamic profile. In normal race conditions, a disk wheel can be a real advantage, in high winds however, the wheel can catch the cross winds and make it very difficult for the rider to hold their line. Today, the winds are up.
There had been news the previous day that the swim course had been altered due to the dangerous conditions so we were prepared for the change. Waiting in the port-a-loo line I heard another announcement that the swim was changing again, the plan B of a two lap triangle swim was now now reduced to a single lap. The water was deemed too dangerous for athletes to be in for the full duration.
 |
| As I rested, the team are ready |
On the sand and in the water before the start I caught up and chatted with many of the people I had met and trained with since joining this sport, many about to begin their first Ironman and again it struck me that none seemed nervous. Standing on this precipice should be a daunting thing but the time and sweat we had put into the lead-up had given us all the confidence to stare it down.
More than 2000 of the fittest athletes were launched from the shallow beach, not with a cannon nor the traditional air horn, instead, Mike Reilly shouting over the PA system "Go Go!"
Almost immediately, two things happened. Fellow athletes tried desperately to disprove the laws of physics that state that no two bodies can occupy the same space; and the seal of my trusty goggles proved to be less trust worthy. Unable to see with my right eye and only partially with the left I gave up trying to spot the directional buoys and instead blindly (hah) followed the thrashing feet of the multitudes ahead of me. The plan work fine until we all reached a complete standstill at the top of the course. Treading water in one - two metre swells 800 metres of shore against a wall of like-minded (and increasingly grumpy) competitors was never in my race plan, the experience did have the happy bonus of allowing me to investigate and fix my goggle problem.
Half an hour after entering the water I was back on the sand with a bit of beach to cover due to the strong currents on the return. More the past several months I had been successfully nursing a repeating strain to my left calf. Every time my program called for a run I would wear a compressive calf brace. The injury had not returned for months - until I started running off the sand. Within the first few strides I felt it begin to tighten up again and I'm not too proud to admit that I dropped the F-bomb. I could not believe that I had done everything right to get here, when it had given me trouble I had rested it. I had taken precautions to reduce the incidence and the week prior to the race I had followed the program and tapered to be ready. Now, with all of my friends and family here to support me somewhere along the 220km route ahead I was facing the very real prospect of dumb luck bringing me undone. Smiling as I ran through the crowd and into transition and out onto the bike course I tried to put the potential failure of the run out of my head and just focus on the task at hand.
I love cycling.
I don't know what it is, the freedom to fly perhaps, I just know it works for me. Facing a possible 6 hours in the saddle might be daunting, but at least this time I was going somewhere. For almost a year, the only times I have accomplished this feat it has been in the garage with the bike mounted on a stationary trainer. There was no blockbuster movie to watch today, but the was scenery and a bit of a blockbuster headwind in my face.
 |
| Heading out of T1 |
Near the bike turn around point there is a tunnel that goes under a river, due to the depth it must reach to navigate below the river bed the roadway becomes rather steep. Descending into the yellowed light the first time had me wondering if I should have reached for the bike's base bar instead of remaining n the aero extensions. As the speed increased and I flew passed others I just gritted my teeth and held one.
It. Was. Awesome.
I have no idea of what speeds were achieved as my watch was relying solely on a GPS signal, all I know is that my bike descended like a demon.
 |
| My support crew |
As I indicated, my back was in spasm and the arches of my feet tight, however, the 180km on the bike turned out to be just what the doctor ordered for my strained calf. 5:44 of cycling had done the trick, a few stretches in the change tent for my back I was off on the final leg of this journey.
If you've read some of my previous entries you'll know that running is not my strongest link and my last recon run of this course showed that I need to conserve plenty in the tank for the 3rd 10km section where the hills kick in. This day, as I began the marathon I was still feeling pretty good, especially when I spotted a number of family members who had come out to support me on the day. Holding a decent pace I ticked of the kilometres and just lapped up the energy being dosed out by the crowds. It was amazing the number of people out there cheering us on and a good many of them took the time to read our race bibs and personalize their encouragement with our names. The marathon course is dotted with 20 aid stations and my goal was to roll through each one, grab a drink at each, ice when I could, a gel at every second one and thank the volunteers.
 |
| Late in the run, still feeling good - Thumbs up! |
Approaching the finish line, still running well and though the sun was low in the sky it was still tidily above the horizon. Ten hours and forty-seven minutes after the chaos of the mass start I heard Mike Reilly calling out over the public address system again. Ironman. I had not only achieved what I set out to do 12 months ago,I had smashed my goals. I had wanted to finish within 12 hours, even accounting for the reduced swim I had done this easily. More over, I wanted to finish on my terms, I wanted to take the course on, to beat it and I had done this too. According to my race stats, during the final leg of the race I had actually run down over 100 competitors, 30 of them from within my age group, and I had loved every moment of it.
So, that's it. It's all over.
I guess that just leaves one thing to do...
Do it all again next year!
Awesome!!
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