The best part of my third ironman race was probably the taper. I’d got a call from Catriona Morrison saying, “What you doing before Regensburg? Fancy joining me and Rachel, in Europe somewhere, maybe at altitude?”.
And so I spent the three weeks prior, in Morzine, France, along with Catriona Morrison and husband Richard, Rachel Joyce, Emma-Kate Lidbury and Jo Carritt. On the day I arrived, the usual July sunshine turned to the worst spell of weather the area had experienced in some time.
Ironman Lanzarote, 21st May 2011
Swim: 3.8km, Bike: 180km, Run: 42.2km
Not having the energy to build up your bike, two days before taking part in an Ironman, is not ideal. That’s how I felt on the Thursday evening, after arriving in Lanzarote.
Between jet lag, lack of sleep, several mosquito bites, phantom period pains, general fatigue… I felt even worse on the Friday. Having put in so much hard work to prepare for this one day, I was annoyed that I just didn’t feel remotely in the right mood. Then I was annoyed that I was annoyed. I just wanted to be able to execute the plan I’d worked for. I knew I need to pick up my mental game, if nothing else. Not ideal lead up maybe, but it’s what I had, so I’d better just get on with it!
My coach had warned me, “don’t go doing anything stupid now and buying fancy new socks or shoes at the Expo!”. My friend Emma, a kindred spirit, texted me saying “go buy yourself something you don’t need at the Expo!”. I resisted the shiny pink trainers, but resolved to treat myself to a pair when I got home.
With five weeks to go until Ironman Lanzarote, I decided to take a week off to train on the course. Although I’d done the bike course in February, I wasn’t feeling confident: still a little bit scared of the course, still a little bit concerned about making the bike cut off time.
I told my coach I wanted, needed, to do the course again. He said he didn’t want me to do the course once, but twice… no actually, three times. I laughed. But hey, with no cycling on the days in-between, just a little swimming and running. Of course, there’d be short swims before the cycles, and runs off too. (Oh, he’s serious!) He gave me one “I’m allowed to bail” card, which could be used on one of the three big days. Did I want to do this, he asked. It looked like a challenge and a half, how could I say no? I said I’d like to try.
A year ago I spent a week in Lanzarote, training with the Glasgow Triathlon Club. I didn’t particularly like the island. I thought the landscape was barren and harsh. I remember being so scared of the wind, I’d ride at a snails pace or stop all the time. I remember saying, “remind me NEVER to attempt this Ironman!”
But I’m an idiot, and here I am, a year on having returned from two weeks training in Lanzarote, in preparation for the Ironman there this May.
“So are you an athlete?”, a professional triathlete, at a table of professional athletes, asked me a few weeks ago. “I’m a very amateur amateur” I replied. My response has been bugging me a little ever since.
It was partly just a bad choice of words, and that terrible habit the Irish/Scottish, and women, often have of putting ourselves down; but it’s got me thinking about being an amateur or a professional, or even a professional amateur.
I had been invited round for dinner, by Catriona Morrison (the social glue of Aguilas), with a group of people I hadn’t met, but whose performances I knew of. I’m not very up on my who’s who in professional triathlon, but I was aware I was in the presence of people who perform at a completely different level to me (say 9 hour ironman, rather than my 15 hours). Triathlon is how they earn their paycheck; whereas triathlon is the thing that puts a dent in my paycheck. I was a little nervous. What should I even bring to dinner… wine, chocolate, energy gels?! After about thirty seconds in their company, with the chat flowing, I relaxed and realised that we probably had more in common than not.
Race day morning
Up at 3:30, had porridge for breakfast and all felt well. The owner at my inn drove me to the swim start, at 5:15am, as they didn’t want me to risk ordering a potentially unreliable cab.
Transition was really well organised, with colour coded volunteer t-shirts waiting in buses ready to take our green and yellow special needs bags for the bike and run. People typically store some extra nutrition in these bags, which can be collected around the half way point on the course.
It has been almost 18 weeks since my first (attempted) ironman race. After that DNF I said I wanted to get fitter, faster and stronger. So how did that go?
Motivation
I remember feeling super motivated immediately after Switzerland. Then I deliberately took about 3 weeks off training, with a conference in Florida in the middle. In hindsight, this was too long a break without some kind of routine training. I’d love to say the motivation carried on to the next race plan, but it just didn’t. I mean I wanted to, but my body took some persuasion. It felt slightly bizarre to start up again, to look at the training schedule that had seemed perfectly normal a month earlier but now… well, it’s a lot! To get out of bed at 5:30 and fit in 3hrs of training most week days, and a full day’s work, and well, the rest of life! Really, the last few months have felt like a struggle. With old and new difficult ‘stuff’ to deal with on a personal level, I’ve been feeling quite drained. Being physically tired is so much easier to work through, or recover from. Being emotionally tired is a whole other challenge.
Swim for 3.8km, bike for 180km then run a marathon: that’s an Ironman, or long distance, triathlon. When you tell a non-triathlete that you’re embarking on such a challenge, the usual response is “you’re mental!”. What would possess someone to do such a thing?
The decision to ‘go long’ and train for Ironman for me was motivated by personal reasons. Last summer, after almost 14 years together, my husband decided to leave me. No warning, no rational discussion, no recourse. It felt like something that happened to me, not something I was able to affect.
Dealing with this was distressing, to say the least. There were difficult financial repercussions. There was obviously emotional turmoil dealing with the betrayal, anger and grief. But there were real and present physical effects to deal with: anxiety symptoms like difficulty breathing & chest pains were a regular occurrence for months, but I also had weeks with a level of pain where it felt like even my actual bones hurt.
Bala Middle Distance, 13th June 2010
Swim: 2KM
Bike: 82.5KM
Run: 20KM
My preparation for this middle distance triathlon wasn’t exactly textbook…
The week prior was spent travelling to the U.S. for a conference. With all the hard socializing work that entails, I got about 3 or 4 hours sleep (ideal would be now 8+) a night and consumed WAY more alcohol than a recommended NONE. The journey home involved flight delays, missed connections and airline food so bad I chose to go hungry. (Note to self: if at all possible, bring your own meals. If trying to buy a remotely healthy meal in Newark airport you’re shit out of luck.)
So I arrived back in the UK in the wrong city (thanks to the only standby option available), and 4 hours later than planned. A quick call to Ele, my race and travelling buddy, to assure her I’d be home and ready to go as quickly as possible, then bus, train, taxi home to Glasgow. So so tired I was seeing stars at this point!
Vitruvian race report (or how NOT to prepare for a half-ironman)
The Vitruvian
Organiser: Pacesetter Events
Venue: Rutland Water, Leicestershire
Distance: 1900m swim – 85k bike – 21k run
I entered the Vitruvian at the very start of January. Inspired by Jo E’s race report of last year, I too wanted to do a half-ironman, and I wanted it to be this race. It sounded awesome.
I was meant to have other plans for this year but I had caught the triathlon bug. I just wanted to train hard and to see what my body was capable of doing… Careful what you wish for!