Saturday 29 June 2013

Blood, sweat and tears - Ironman UK 70.3 race report

  After a few weeks of no update I think a long post is well overdue and this one certainly will be long after the eventful weekend at the Ironman 70.3 in Exmoor. It has been exactly a week since I was thrashing in Wimbleball Lake and climbing the many hills around the beautiful countryside of Exmoor. Many may know the outcome of this race but I shall start from the very beginning...

  Dan and I left for Devon late Friday night on the 14th June. We were due to leave on Saturday morning but due to registration finishing at 2pm I didn't want to chance the traffic. As well as that I much prefer driving in the dark with the knowledge of an open road. We eventually got to the caravan around 1am. Dan had been doing a firefighter course all week and he was shattered so I drove down while he slept. Although I thought I was wide awake, after a very quiet journey I was definitely ready to sleep when we arrived. Thanks to the new caravan we didn't have to worry about firing up the gas and being cold, it was just a switch and the central heating came on (see why we call it a holiday home now?).

  I had wanted to do a practise swim in Wimbleball Lake on Saturday morning but decided with the race the following day I would lie in a little later. Sleep was crucial and I was happy to take as much as I could. I had been working a lot and knew my sleep on the Saturday night before the race would be short and probably disturbed due to my nerves. I then thought it may have been a good thing I missed it as it may have got me even more anxious. As we were driving to the race start for registration I said to Dan that I was looking forward to the challenge (I can safely say I got that!). Dan had said he thought I had got complacent due to the enjoyment and ease in which I completed the Snowdonia Slateman. I didn't argue back but I have been thinking about it as I did not find the Snowdonia triathlon easy by any means, I just found it easier than I had expected. This could have been because I put the event on such a high difficulty pedestal, it could be because I trained enough for that particular distance but moreover I think it showed my need for a new challenge. My new challenge of endurance triathlon racing was waiting for me. On the lead up to the race I had many people ask me if I thought I was ready, to which I always replied as ready as I'll ever be. I had a neutral feeling about the race during the build up week but on the drive up the many hills I was getting excited.

  I got my first glimpse at the logistical nightmare of getting 2000 people to such a remote part of the country that Saturday. There was traffic control through the country lanes meaning we waited a good 20 minutes before we got anywhere near the event start . The 'car park' was a massive field and was a free for all for a space (my low sports car was not made for this terrain). After parking up I went to register. They cleverly made sure you walked through all the Ironman merchandise before reaching registration and it is impossible to not have a look at everything on offer. I wanted the majority of the clothes that were on sale in particular some tracksuit bottoms, but said to myself I would get them once I had finished. I got my rucksack from registration which included all the information I needed and signed on the dotted line to Ironman 70.3 UK (this basically meant I agreed to the dangers such an event can entail). It was at this point I felt sick with nerves. I began thinking of all the what ifs. 'What if I didn't complete?', 'What if I crashed?', 'What if (god forbid) I missed the cut off time?'. Thankfully I bumped into a couple from the Tri club who were competing and after finally getting my attention by shouting my name a few times they brought me back down to reality. I admitted that I was so nervous I couldn't eat (whilst Dan munched down a burger) but their enthusiasm put some excitement back in me. Due to the scale and regulations of Ironman races their transition areas are different. Instead of laying your kit by your bike you have 3 different coloured bags with your number on with which you put the designated kit for each discipline in. Red - Run, Blue - Bike and White - after clothes. It was then a case of checking and double checking that I had everything in the correct bags. Once I was sure I had everything I went back to transition with my bike and bags. I racked my bike (which looked significantly under par in comparison to the rest - such a great day to see some bike porn) then hung my bags up alongside my number. As I was waiting to get my time chip registered I began to have a chat with some others in the line. One guy thought I was an elite as my number was low at 55, I quickly told him that wasn't the case. I also had a quick look at the small amount of people in my age and sex group, 16, to get an idea of who I was up against. I saw some aero-dynamic helmets which meant they had all the gear but was reminded that that means nothing, they could have no idea. There was nothing more I could do now, everything was waiting for me. When we finally got out of the car park we checked into our hotel 15 minutes down the road and went to get my pasta fix in Exeter. We ended up getting back later than I had wanted or expected as my car got locked in a multi-storey car park. We then had to be let out by the council. I wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway.

  My alarm for the Sunday was at 4.45am. My mum had stayed in the same village overnight so considering the state of the car parking at the event we decided to go together as she has a 4x4. I couldn't have my normal pre-race porridge as the B&B owners weren't awake so I had some fruit and fibre and took 2 bananas with me. Dan immediately said that wasn't enough, but there wasn't the option for anymore and I honestly couldn't stomach any more. We left at 5.30am as I wanted to be there earlier to put some extra nutrition gels on my bike and settle myself. The traffic getting to the event start was a nightmare, making me and other competitors nervous. We were in standstill traffic leading towards the car park. It didn't take long before people started getting out of their cars and start walking towards the start. I however had more pressing matters, as per my usual pre-race routine I needed the toilet, so instead of head to the start line I ran to the strategically placed portaloo. When we eventually parked up I had half an hour before the start and people were already walking down the swim start. I ran to put the nutrition on my bike and got my wetsuit on (something that unlike some I can do pretty quick). Mum crammed half a banana in my mouth as I began the walk down to the lake. A major positive of being late was that I had no time to get nervous, or even think about what I was about to put my body through. Once on the lakes edge I started to try and assess myself in comparison to the other athletes around me so I knew were to place myself. I always do this. I walk round the competitors checking what their talking about, who they are with, how they hold themselves (do they look nervous?) and how they look physically. It sounds cruel but is necessary. However, with this being my first long distance triathlon I was unsure where to place myself so stayed safe and found a comfortable spot in the middle of the pack. Despite some peoples gasps when they entered the water I did not find it that cold (probably in comparison to the temperatures in Snowdon). I had a chat with some of the people around me and began to think I should've moved further up the swim field. The whistle went off dead on 7am and then the washing machine started. It was immediately evident that I should've gone further to the front of the swim wave. I was weaving in and out of people, which may have annoyed some but whatever they gave me I gave it back. Some guy even tried to drag my foot back, so I just kicked harder and that soon stopped him. It was only three-quarters of the way through did I find my own rhythm and pace after beating off the slower swimmers (at one point I thought I had broken my little finger from a hit I had taken). My lack of confidence as to where I placed myself in the swim wave was a massive error on my behalf and made me realise I may not be the first out of the water but I need the confidence to get up there with some of the faster competitors. Events make you go faster anyway so if I place myself with the best I may well stick with them. What you should not expect during an event is to go slower than your PB - something I did. I wanted to be out of the water in 40minutes as that covered all eventualities. So when I came out in 38 minutes I was initially pleased but after seeing the times afterwards the disappointment set in over the time I had lost. My PB for this distance is 34 minutes so I lost a massive 4 minutes at least and this was mainly for not positioning myself correctly. However, this was my first long distance triathlon and I shall remember this, you live and learn.
 
  After the swim it was a run up to T1. I had told myself that I could take my time here (within reason) as I needed to be comfortable for 4hours on the bike. I was out of T1 and on my bike in 8 minutes. At the bike mount area there was small congestion of competitors and a bike behind me went crashing into back of my wheel as I was getting on. This meant that the saddle went right where the sun doesn't shine. What a great start to a long day on a bike! The first part of the bike was pretty tough and many people came zooming past me. As demotivating as this can be I just kept telling myself I am doing this for myself and need to ignore them. I soon found myself in a group of cyclists. Throughout the course I would overtake them and then they would do the same. This was a great way of being able to assess my performance. Nine times out of ten though I would overtake on the hills, proving my strong point there. It was a massive boost to my confidence, ability and ego to be beating some men with £8000 TT bikes up hills. My little Sora at £500 still had something left in her.
  I don't know whether I had built the course up to such an impossible level in my head, but I did not find the route as hard as I thought I would. The second half of the lap was definitely the harder bit, but I managed to get up the hills and not lose my group. This said I did not find it easy. When I saw my mum and Dan around mile 50 at the top of one of the toughest hills they were shocked at my time split. I was on for a 3h45 bike! (I had wanted 4hours). Shortly after that though things went downhill. My speed began to drop and I was getting frustrated wondering why this was. At the start of my second lap going up a steep hill (a constant theme) I decided to stop and check my tyre. The one thing I didn't want had happened. My tyre was as flat as a pancake. I managed to fix it, although with the torrential rain and my slow speed at fixing punctures I probably lost about 10 minutes at least. I started off again with a new found motivation to catch up with some people I lost. However, 10 miles later I felt the same struggling feeling of a puncture. I stopped and the bad luck continued, I had another puncture. I stamped my feet a little in annoyance and muttered some words 'in French' and started on getting my last spare inner tube out of my puncture repair kit. I then saw two blokes running towards me offering help. I knew the rules about instant disqualification if you get help from outside, but they reassured me as the on site mechanics I would be OK. Although they were mechanics I don't think it took any quicker and I lost a further 10 minutes or more. I said thank you and I was on my way again. By this point I wasn't surrounded by many people at all and knew I had to pick up the pace. The wind and rain was horrific by this point, so much so you couldn't see, but I wasn't feeling too demotivated. I knew however there was a horribly long and steep downhill coming up and I was dreading it. Downhill confidence is something I have always lacked. I had managed it on the first lap but didn't like doing it and the whole way round I was not looking forward to tackling again especially in the rain. I was fearing it more than any uphill that day. As I approached the hill I began dabbing the brakes and I didn't take my hands off, I was going a snails pace the whole way down (people could have walked quicker than me). Whilst going down I began to get worried as my brakes were not responding as I would've liked them to. I had to get on the drop bars and squeeze the brake levers as far as they would go. This eventually began really hurting my hands and on the last corner I shouted to some marshal's that my brakes were weakening. I knew that the last part of the hill as the steepest and had a sharp left turn at the bottom. As I was going down the final steep straight to the bottom I heard a ping from the back of my bike. My weak brakes had now become no brakes as the brake pads on my back wheel had pinged off. A marshal on the hill was telling me to slow down to which I shouted "My brakes have gone". All I could do at that point was angle my bike towards some grass to the right so not to wipe any other competitors behind me who would veer to the left and close my eyes. I just had to hope the damage wasn't too awful when, and slightly morbidly, if I came around.
  After crashing into a tree and skidding across the road for 5metres I lluckily did come around and the damage initially didn't seem too bad. I opened my eyes and had lots of marshall's surrounding me telling me to take my time to get up and if anything hurt. Apart from being pretty cut, bruised and shaken up I said I was OK. They all asked if I wanted to get a lift back but I decided to carry on, I wanted to cross that line more than anything. I obviously did not realise how badly I was hurting mentally and physically after the crash. I had no idea what the time was, or whether it was even possible for me to make the cut off time (5hrs30 after my start time of 7am). I had lost 30 minutes due to punctures (a ridiculously long time) and I still have no idea how long it took me to wake up, get up, recover and get back on the bike after my crash but can estimate 10-15 minutes. I struggled the whole way back to transition - the hills now seemingly mountains. I was desperate to see a familiar face and to top it of the finger on my left hand felt severely bruised (something I had not noticed before) which made braking really difficult and painful. Through the last 16 miles of the course I noticed that there was a minimal amount of people around me and I felt like I was completely alone. I finally made it back to T2 and was told the inevitable, I had missed the cut off. The tears I had cooped up came streaming out (I'm welling up as I write this). I saw Dan through the fence at the bottom of transition and I then couldn't stop the tears. I was so disappointed and upset. Missing the cut off time was my biggest fear.
  I can't really express my true feelings in regards to not completing, I felt empty. This was my first DNF (did not finish) ever. I was jealous of anyone with a medal. I was quiet and subdued and couldn't stop welling up. I had to slowly collect all of my belongings and then got my finger checked out. The doctor said I should go to A&E as he suspected that the bone inside my knuckle had cracked (I found out the following day he was right). When he told me the recovery time was 6 weeks I began to cry again - that meant that out of my 3 months training for Ironman Wales I wouldn't be fully fit for half of it. I immediately had to evaluate about Wales. Would it be possible after not completing the half and would I be able to train enough with a broken finger?
  I began shivering uncontrollably and despite being adamant I was fine, the doctor asked my mum to get me some dry clothes. I then became sad that I couldn't justify getting the Ironman tracksuit bottoms I so badly wanted. After I had been strapped up and given a letter to give to A&E I went to get changed. When I opened the bag there a shirt mum had bought which had Ironman 70.3 UK with the names of all the competitors on the back. I found my name and began to cry again. I managed to compose myself, get changed and we headed back to the car. Me and mum were spending a few days at the caravan together while Dan had to get home.
  I began playing through the events in my head and was still quiet. Mum kept saying it didn't matter and to move on but I was still upset and disappointed. By the time we had got to the caravan I had thought things through and taken some positives from the days events. I had decided Ironman Wales would go ahead. I could train on the turbo trainer, could still run and would find a way to swim. I posted the days events and positives I was taking from it on Facebook to everyone who wished me good luck and to the Chiltern Tri club; "It seemed like every part of me was being tested. My low tolerance for rain, my technical skills at changing tyres and mu mental ability when it comes to carrying on when you really are down. And that can only be good preparation for Wales!". Some of the responses from there were inspirational enough. Here are some that struck a cord for me;

  "Holle, fair play to you. Sounds like a difficult day all round. Admire the attitude though. It's not what you take that counts, it's what you come back with that counts. Onwards and upwards..."

  "Wow what a tough day but fantastic attitude. Wish you a speedy recovery and better luck for Wales"

  "Hollie you are a fighter girl if ever there was one. Paraphrasing from one of my favourite verses...rest now if you must, but don't quit! Get mended and we will see you very soon"

  "Hollie not all races go to plan and with your fighting spirit you will be back even stronger and tougher for Ironman Wales"

  These comments were exactly what I needed to lift me up and I enjoyed the rest of the days with my mum drinking too much and playing bingo (which I won for once - I must have some luck). Mum had also bought me the tracksuit bottoms I loved and I don't think I took them off.

  In hindsight, had the Snowdonia Slateman gone badly then my mental state would not be as good in regards to Ironman Wales as that was the last race I finished. After reading my triathlon magazine I read a race report that the Snowdonia Slateman has made its name as the hardest Olympic distance triathlon in the UK. I definitely needed that confidence even though it is only a quarter of the distance of an Ironman. I have got a lot of work to do between now and September but there is hope. I am more determined than ever to get round that course. Since then I did a swim time trial with my broken finger of the half Ironman distance and got 35 minutes so it can only get better. I put my blood, sweat and tears into Ironman UK 70.3 and although I didn't get to the run I completed the cycle, faced horrible weather, fixed punctures and continued after a bad crash. I still believe I'm extremely lucky to only have the injuries I have got considering the speed, weather and location of the crash. It has knocked some confidence and when I think back to the incident it was a scary situation to be in but I will take all the positives from this event and move it forwards. Onwards and definitely upwards considering the hills I'll be tackling in Wales.