1 week… 2 weeks…3 weeks…4 weeks… not merely a whisper of motivation passed through my mind, and I was fast running out of time.
My little brother, Mitch, committed himself to an Ironman 70.3 teams race on the 19th of October. Due to a certain academic goal he wishes to chase - one that I cannot fathom - and he had to pull out.
I was quick to throw my hand in the air, purely out of excitement for a new challenge. Since my return from the Triathlon World Championships in Edmonton in the early days of September I had planned on a short break and a quick return to fitness.
During the weeks ending September and starting October I gave training a good college try but nothing came of it. Once I hit the weekend of the 4th & 5th I had about 40 kilometres of running behind me for that week and I began to panic. I buckled down even at times I didn’t want to train and produced 55km for the next week and without a single thought of taper I’d hit 64km on the Friday before I left for Port Macquarie.
An easy jog the day before and warm up moments before the race on Sunday I’d clocked up 70km. Fortunately the thought of that volume prior to a 21.1km race didn’t hit me until the post race pain did, the following day.
Before Sunday the 19th I had never done anymore than 12km hard in one go and my longest run had only been 20km on the dot. I didn’t let myself ponder that thought for too long pre race because I knew it could potentially throw me off my game.
It was a strange feeling having to wait the amount of time I did for my part of the relay. Usually I’m waiting 20 or so intense crowd packed minutes at super sprint relay events with an exotic and foreign voice shouting at the microphone, commentating every second of the fast paced and intense races. So the 2 and a half hour wait for our cyclist to enter transition was different, time seemed to stand still while I was waiting, but at the same time, with every minute that passed I got more and more excited to burst out of transition and smoke this 21.1km race.
“He’ll be in before you know it…He’ll be in before you know it…” like a favourite song on repeat my brain kept ticking over with that thought. Eventually It’ll give you the shits and you’ll hate it but you won't stop listening to it until that moment.
I sat in transition with my eyes closed and head back against the fence. I knew our swimmer would let me know when our boy was in sight.
“He’s here, He’s in” I shot to my feet and jumped to the rack. Expecting a rush of athletes sprinting through transition, pushing for every inch they could as it is in ITU racing. I looked over, about 100m away he had come to a stop hopped off his bike and jogged into transition. initially I was about to tear up the rows in transition and hurry him up but a voice entered my head, “we’ve got 8 or so minutes on the 2nd team”
It’s like a switch flicked in my head. The urgency in a four hour race and Ironman in general does not compare to an ITU race. every ounce of energy is wasted where’s it’s needed. A sprint through transition for a mere 10 seconds could cost 10 minutes or more in half and full marathons. So I bit my tongue and waited.
I was down on one knee waiting to unstrap the timing chip and throw it around my ankle. He racked his bike and chucked his foot next to mine. Whether it was adrenaline or habit I shot up and sprinted out of transition and settled into a comfortable pace… Comfortable for 10km that is!
Soon after I realised I had done half a lap of two, and I knew how I was running wouldn't be sustainable.
I had planned on sticking to a certain pace but that never happens.
Once I came through to begin lap 2, I had settled into a nice rhythm. Once I hit the open road heading out to the turn around, a wave of mildly forceful wind hit me like a ton of bricks. No crowd support, just the suffering athletes and the heat of the sun coupled with a breeze strong enough to put you off your pace, and I had found the wall. I pushed through the the u-turn and brought myself back up to pace with a slight tail wind for the next 2km. Once I got back into the crowded area the wind had disappeared and the sun was ever strong.
I was in a world of pain I hadn’t experienced. Chest and breathing checked out fine but my muscles were fatigued unlike before. Hip flexors didn’t want to expand and contract anymore and each glute didn't want to hold my body weight on their own. And I still had 5km to go.
Thankfully there was patches of spectators throughout the final loop. I was dipping into slow paces then desperately bringing myself back out time and time again. When I saw a sign indicating 20km I pulled myself together and finished strong.
Singlet and pants soaked in water, electrolytes, red bull and coca cola. Blood saturating the front end of my left sock and an unwilling collection of muscles and I’d finally crossed the line. Dazed and struck with exhaustion I glanced at my watch and saw 1:17, 21.3km. Hopeful for 1:15 I was slightly disappointed. To be honest; there is still a trace of disappointment running through my body. Half of me is annoyed because I wanted a better result, But the other half knows I was unfit and the 2 and a half weeks of preparation for the longest run I’d ever do as a race is reason enough for an unpleasing time. I’d say I’m looking forward to another crack at it but for the foreseeable future I’ll be sticking to ITU racing.
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Big ups to Nige Renton (aka brother-in-law-to-be) for getting me in working order pre race and also a massive thank you to BONT Cycling and ZEALOUS Swimwear for the jumping behind me again for the 2015 season. Can't ask for better gear, get yourself some gear from these brands and you won't be disappointed.
