Ironman Race Day: the run

25 03 2017

It was great to be off the bike.

Whilst I wasn’t feeling too bad in the body, it was still seven hours predominantly in the same position. So the change of posture and muscles being used was welcome relief.

As I headed out of transition, my coach and a couple of supporters were directly ahead of the exit path. As I ran straight towards them I waved to ensure they saw me. Their positivity made me feel great.

They were just as chuffed as I was to see me running.

Well, I say I was running. It was more like jogging. But it was all forward momentum and that’s the only thing you need to achieve when it comes to the Ironman marathon.

It may sound obnoxious or arrogant to say I set off on my first ever marathon knowing it wasn’t if, but when I was going to finish. Even if I had to walk most of it, I was confident I had enough time to do that. As long as the body held out.

Just as I started on that first lap, I saw the women’s pro race winner, Jocelyn McCauley, heading towards the red carpet. I’d made it onto the run course with the pros (although they were several hours ahead of me!). It was a surprise not to see Meredith Kessler out front but great to have a new winner too.

Heading out onto Lake Terrace, I was passing other runners heading back towards the turn or finish point, depending on the number of wristbands they’d collected along the way. I remember feeling a bit dismayed at the sheer number of people who were heading to the finish already. Just like McCauley.

I was only just starting. Was I really that slow?

But I gave myself a bit of a slap. Did it even matter? Of course it bloody well didn’t. I was out on the Ironman run. I was doing it.

I was going to be an Ironman. Of that I was sure.

The sun was strong, even at 4pm, making that first lap pretty warm. My race plan was exactly what I’d practiced in training. At a minimum I’d have walk breaks for 1 minute every 15 minutes. In addition, I’d walk all of the aid stations to eat and drink.

By this stage I was totally over sweet. All that’s available on the bike is sugary in the form of gels, energy bars and even Perpetuem. The most savoury thing were bananas. Which is why my emergency PB sarnie on the bike was the bomb!

But come the first run aid station, I wanted salt. Luckily there’s more choice at this stage and a big bowl of pretzels loomed in front of me. I grabbed a handful and washed them down with a big gob full of water to soften them and make them easier to eat.

Along the entire 14km lap there’s supporters lining the streets cheering your every step. Thousands of people you’ll never know are literally cheering your name and willing you to get ever closer to that red carpet.

It’s like a new brand of nutrition. Their excitement and energy feeds you and you want to do it for them as much as yourself. The crowds are thronging at the far end of the run around the residential Wharewaka area creating a party-like atmosphere. It’s here that you pick up each of your lap wristbands to identify you’ve done each of the three laps.

Heading back towards town I knew I’d pass a bunch of our squad supporters on the waterside walkway where they’d rented a bach. They’d also teased us that they’d created a sign for each of us. I was desperate to see them to see what they’d done.

They hadn’t lied.

It was so easy to spot their house due to the line of home made painted signs lining the path! I was prepared for some piss taking but my sign was one of genuine encouragement.

The cheering squad was also out in force, spurring me on, one step at a time.

I’d deliberately turned off the auto lap function on my Garmin. This function beeps every km to show you how quickly you did it. I didn’t want to look at my watch 42 times. I just wanted to concentrate on getting to the next aid station. I’ve had this function on for the two half ironmans I’ve done and I find it distracts you and can make you stressed as, usually, your pace begins to slow as the race goes on.

I’m quite pleased to say I didn’t obsess about my pace or time at all during the day. I barely looked at my watch. It was truly a day that was ruled by my head and my body. And my heart. And not by any data.

It was truly refreshing.

At each aid station I just took what I feel like. Mostly sticking to crisps (chippies) and water or Nuun, with a Clif Shot Blok thrown in for good measure. Just like on the bike, there’s a special needs bag available as a contingency. All I’d put in here was a Wiggle gel (which I much prefer to the Clif ones on course) , some Panadol (purely preventative) and a No Doz. I’d used these caffeine tablets in training on the bike, and I’d taken one on course on the day. But I’d never used it on a run.

It was potentially a fatal error to try this out on race day, breaking the number one rule.

A few kms down the road, just before reaching our supporter house again, a debilitating stabbing cramp stopped me in my tracks. Just like it had at the end of my first half ironman.

At the time I didn’t know what had caused it. But I knew I would have to allow myself time to recover. This meant walking more because it hurt too much to run too much. I knew I’d have to deal with it.

But that’s a big part of what Ironman is.

For most people it’s not always about a time, but it’s about dealing with whatever the day throws at you and moving on.

It’s about finishing.

As I made the turnaround in town to start my last lap, I knew that the next time I’d see that piece of road, I wouldn’t be turning round. I’d be heading for the finish chute.

There was only 14 and a bit kms between me and Mike Reilly saying those famous words.

The last lap is a bit of a blur really. Well, the whole damn run is to be fair!

To cope with the cramp, I stuck to water and very little food. I may have down the odd small glass of Coke to give me some energy to make it round.

There was a super friendly volunteer at Rainbow Point and on the second lap he’d made some encouraging comment about going and getting him the next coloured wristband! He made me smile with his enthusiasm and I felt special for that fleeting moment. The fact that he probably used the same line on virtually every runner was irrelevant to me at that moment.

On this last lap he feigned dismay as he spotted the two wristbands and knew I was heading for my third, and final one. “Oh no, you’re leaving me!” he cried out. Boy did he do an amazing job of making you feel great when you really needed it!

At the aid station at the far end, I got handed a glow stick. I’d barely noticed the fading light and didn’t realise just how dark it was going to be by the time I finished.

Then I rounded the corner and ran through the lane for my last wristband. I remember feeling ecstatic at getting that furry piece of fabric wrapped around my wrist. I had just over 6kms left. And most of it was downhill.

On my way back towards town, strangers were staring hard in the dark to see how many wristbands I’d collected. You could see they wanted to say the right thing as there’s nothing worse than telling someone they’re nearly done when they’ve got another lap to do.

When they made out I had all three, the elation on their faces, and in their voices, almost matched mine. I will admit to having to choke back a few tears along the way.

Then suddenly, the lights of Taupo beckoned. They were within reach. My watch had shown a “low battery” warning and I wasn’t sure if it would make it to the finish line. You know the phrase…

Garmin data or it didn’t happen.

So I prayed it survived.

My pace quickened as I counted down the kms. I was playing leap frog with another girl who was taking more walk breaks than me but running faster when she did. As we approached the town centre, I seemed to break away from her and create some distance. Without anyone ahead of me, I was hoping to have the finish chute to myself.

Yes, that’s a little bit selfish!

As I headed towards the finish line, I had no idea what my total time was. With the conditions being as challenging as they were, I’d barely looked at my watch all day. It was great because it meant I wasn’t putting pressure on myself, and I also wasn’t playing any mind games.

Before the day, I’d said I’d be happy with anything under 14 hours. I’d tried to work out my timings while I was running, and I had a very rough idea, but it was all about the finish. not the time. So when I entered the finish chute and saw 13:50 up there, I was stoked!

I’d instructed hubby where to stand so I could give him a huge hug before I crossed the line. I wanted to share it with him and the time didn’t matter. He held me longer than I expected as the girl I’d been leap frogging entered the finish chute. He also wanted me to have the finish line to myself.

When she was far enough in front he let go and I headed down that red carpet.

Then she stopped at her supporters for some high fives before pulling out straight in front of me again. So much for having the finish line to myself!

I’d remembered a conversation the previous year about listening out for the song that’s playing as you finish. It was a great reminder to be mindful in those last few moments. Jamiroquai “A Little L” was playing and will now forever be known as my Ironman song.

Then I heard my name being called. One of our bestest squad supporters was right by the finish line.

To show her my appreciation, I ran over and gave her the biggest high five. It was a great moment and was captured perfectly by the event photographers.

Then I heard it. Mike Reilly’s infamous tones. “Annalie Brown. Wellington. You’re an Ironman Annalie. Yes sir.”

There’s no taking that title away from me now.

My official time is 13 hours 51 minutes and 14 seconds. But I don’t really care.

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I’m an Ironman. And that’s all that counts.

(And I’ve got the Garmin data to prove it).





Ironman Race Day: the swim

10 03 2017

I woke up on race morning to the sound of the wind howling through the trees outside the house.

My heart sank.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t trained in wind.

After all. I live in Wellington. It’s unavoidable.

But you always hope that the training in tough conditions will prepare you for a great race when it’s calm and clear.

No such luck for us.

It was going to be like any other training day over this summer. That meant hard work.

Any time goal dreams I had went out the window.

Coach always says that you shouldn’t set time goals because it’s such a long day and there are so many variables. Weather being a big one. But you can’t help yourself. But anyway, my time was the least of my worries as I got some breakfast and headed down to transition to do the last minute prep on my bike.

Heading down to the lakeside, I met up with most of my training crew who’d gathered in the usual spot by the scenic flights office. From here we could hear the Maori warriors from the Tuwharetoa iwi arriving on their waka to lay down their challenge to us.

A challenge that was like no other Ironman New Zealand event.

The true meaning of their haka was probably lost on most of us, as we watched in horror as the waka they’d just vacated got bashed about by the choppy lake. The waka was soon to be replaced by us.

I decided not to go into the lake for a warm up swim, as I’d have around 30 minutes of standing on the shore wet before my race started, so I chose to use the first part of my race as the warm up. The plan had it down as easy to get into some rhythm and survive the “washing machine” that is the mass start.

Once the pros had been sent on their merry way, it was time to line up with the 1200 other idiots who’d got up to brave the elements. We shuffled slowly towards the beach as we were all filtered inside a narrow barrier. I could see my hubby looking everywhere for me but he was on the other side. When he spotted me he beckoned me over. But with the tight formation of bodies I didn’t think I could get across. He pleaded so I made a few polite “excuse mes” and got across, getting a good luck hug in the process.

Then into the water we went. It looked nothing like the calmness we’d seen the previous two days. Why couldn’t it have been like that? I’m sure I wasn’t the only one asking that. But, it was what it was.

At least it was warm.

And it wasn’t sea water.

Heck we’d done enough training in those conditions in Wellington Harbour. We knew all too well how yucky it is to get bashed left and right by salty waves.

It didn’t look that bad from the shore. But being in it was a completely different ball game.

Copyright Jack McKenzie Photography

I swam out to the deepest start point in line with the course buoys. I was going to try and swim the shortest possible distance I could. But it did mean I put myself in the thick of the washing machine.
I was watching the flashing lights that count down the final three minutes before the start. But the waves were that big I was rolling around a lot and could only see the lights when I was at the top of a wave. When it got down to the last light, I gave up looking. I knew the cannon would go off at any moment and I was just focusing on trying to stop myself being swept into my fellow competitors.

Then it went off. Not as loud as I was expecting, but everyone started swimming.

1200 of us. All at once.

It’s a weird sensation swimming so close to so many people. I’ve done a fair few mass starts at smaller events, but nothing prepares you for that volume of people. Legs, arms and bodies are everywhere.

You get bashed from every direction. It’s really easy to take it personally and strike out at them. But in reality it’s not intentional. And it’s part of Ironman life.

After a few minutes (although it seems like longer) space starts to appear and you can get into a rhythm finally. I was finding a few people to draft off here and there. And the odd person who swam straight across in front of me too. But it started to go pretty well. I counted down the buoys to the turn (they’re numbered) and it felt like I was going at a great pace. The first turn buoy loomed and I felt great.

At that point I should have guessed what was in store for the return leg. In Taupo, the swim course is an out and back, keeping you closer to the shore at first, then heading deeper out into the lake for the return leg. At the first turn buoy you swim about 50m across before turning back towards the finish.

This meant swimming head on into the waves for 50m.

I remember thinking I was barely moving and the buoy wasn’t getting any closer. But I just kept plugging away. And plugging away.

Eventually the second buoy loomed and I thought it was going to get easier once we turned side on to the waves and it would be more like the outbound leg.

How wrong I was. It was just as hard.

Being out in deeper water the chop was twice as bad as the way out. Breathing became tricky because it often didn’t matter which side you were breathing on, you still got a face full of water. It reminded me of the rough Ocean Swim Series race we’d done a few weeks ago.

But at least it was fresh water this time.

Sighting was also an issue because it was difficult to see the buoys if you sighted at the bottom of a rolling wave. Not only were you trying to time your breaths, but you ended up having to feel the water and trying to sight at the top too.

So many times I just had to blindly follow those in front of me and trust they were heading in the right direction.

Each buoy took an age to arrive. I was counting them down. I knew the last one was 24 and couldn’t believe I was only by 16. I was hoping that they’d taken some buoys out so they weren’t all there in order. But they were.

One by one, I slowly reeled them in. I could feel my shoulders getting fatigued by the extra effort required just to generate some forward propulsion. But every stroke was taking me closer to the finish.

Then I finally passed the 24th buoy. It was just a case of rounding that last turn buoy and I’d be surfing back into the beach with waves.

I had no concept of how long I’d been out there but I guessed it was longer than I’d hoped for. When I finally stood up on the beach I couldn’t believe that my watch said 1 hour 29 minutes. I’d been hoping for more like 1 hour 10 or 15 so I was a bit gutted. But I knew that was behind me now and I had to focus on the next stage. At least I’d finished.

 

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Ignore the time, that’s from the pro start 15 minutes ahead of us!

 My run along the famed green carpet, that 400m jog to transition, took me past my supporters and fellow squad mates. My coach yelled out something like “great work” to which I shook my head. I had no idea who from my squad was already out, nor about the troubles some of them were having behind me. But it’s fair to say none of us had a walk in the park.

All of us made it out though. And none of us took a trip on an IRB, as many others did.

I didn’t know it at the time but close to 100 people got pulled out of the lake by lifeguards. They had to delay the start of the half ironman race by 45 minutes because the lifeguards were so busy with Ironman competitors that there weren’t enough free to ensure the safety of the 70.3 athletes. I imagine that was quite hard to deal with from their perspective.

I ran up to transition and straight to the line where my bag was. I shouted my number three times but the volunteer hadn’t even moved. Luckily I’d put some decoration on my bag to make it easy to spot, so I just grabbed it on my way past and ran to an available volunteer in the changing tent.

As she tipped the contents of my bag onto the ground she told me to put the swim behind me as it was over now. I can only imagine what stories she’d already heard from other competitors! She handed me my towel while she fought with my wetsuit. Piece-by-piece we got me dressed and ready to tackle the bike.
She had the process down like a well oiled machine, helping me with shoes, putting clothes on and placing items in my jersey pocket for me. It felt like ages, but in reality it wasn’t a long transition, and I headed out to find my bike to start the biggest leg, and the one I was probably dreading the most.

 





Countdown to Ironman: 6 weeks to go

25 01 2017

Practice makes perfect.

Didn’t your mum always tell you that?

Nothing is truer in endurance triathlon.

I liken this sport to a jigsaw puzzle. You’re trying to create a complete picture that is your race. Only there are several different pieces that might fit into a particular space and you have to try a few, or maybe all of them, until you find the one that fits.

Those pieces are things like pacing, nutrition, processes, clothing, gear, and even things like when and where to apply Vaseline (so other members of my training squad told me).

And there’s no other way to figure this lot out than to practice. In a realistic situation.

Bring on Ironman training camp in Taupo.

This weekend saw us basically complete about 80-90% of the course – not on one day – we’ll save that pleasure for race day.

Normally the camp schedule sees you complete one Ironman distance (apart from the full run) on each day. So swim 3.8kms in the Lake on the Saturday, backed up with a shorter bike. Then complete the full 180km bike course on the Sunday, backed up with a short run off the bike to test the legs. Then a 3-hour run completes the torture, erm, I mean training!

But the 2017 NZ summer chucked in a weather bomb on the Sunday making the bike a bit of a gamble.

Not wanting to take that risk, Coach switched things around to have us completing the bike straight after the Saturday swim.

Personally I found it was incredibly useful to do this as it genuinely simulated race morning. So I got up, had the breakfast I’m thinking of having, and then got to have the first go at my race plan “jigsaw”.

The swim start is 7am in the beautiful lake. So that’s what we did. The plan was to complete the distance and then hop straight on the bike for the full course.

It was a beautiful morning out on Lake Taupo. The sun was just rising and the water was flat calm – conditions we’re hopeful for on the day itself. The swim was a bit trickier than it will be on the day as there were no course markers, making sighting, and therefore swimming straight, a bit harder. It also meant we had no idea when to turn around so we had to keep checking our watches.

As it happened I didn’t do a bad job and when I got back to the finish, I was only about 80m short of the full 3.8kms. And I was stoked with the time. It was at the faster end of my expectations, so with a mass swim start on the day, I should be able to easily replicate that, and possibly go even faster with a good draft.

The “transition” was fairly swift and it was time to hit the road to Reporoa for the first of two loops.

I knew that this needed to be paced well. My legs were fresh and I felt good, but there’s a looooong way to go and I needed some reserves for the second lap. We had some company on course with two other training squads also out for a practice ride so there was some good banter and encouragement. It was great practice for when people pass you on the day and maintaining your own race and pace plan. It’s all too easy to be competitive against others, but they may have a different plan – and strengths – to you. So whether or not you think you shouldn’t let that person beat you, you have to let them go.

I got lots of practice at that.

I’d been hoping for a 7-hour-ish ride time, and at the half way point was bang on track at 3 hours 30 minutes. My husband had travelled up with the squad to provide some support, so when we got back into Taupo at the end of lap one, he was there as an “aid station” and also gave us some practice at thinking about our “special needs”.

During the actual race, at the start of the second lap you get a chance to pick up some additional items, or apply some things you may or may not have needed at the start. It’s kind of a contingency bag. So we had to think about what we might need in that on the day and left it with him.

Then it was back to Reporoa for lap 2.

We knew the wind was going to pick up as the day wore on, and that the direction would be favourable for a tailwind “home”. Which is good because that’s mostly uphill.

But where there’s a tailwind, there’s got to be a headwind too. And boy was there ever.

We’d faced a headwind in the same direction in the half. But you knew that we only had one lap to do. This time we’d already done 90kms and had to save some for the uphill, even with a tailwind, back.

And not only that. If we wanted to truly simulate race day, we had to be thinking that we still had a marathon to do at the end of it. So we still couldn’t (or at least shouldn’t) be putting in too much power and leave something in reserve for that run.

We needed to have some serious words with ourselves to get through it! And the main thing was knowing that the tailwind was yet to come. But that mental toughness is something we need to prepare for the day and have strategies for coming out the other side.

Total bike time ended up at 7 hours 13 minutes. That headwind took its toll as the return leg was pretty much equal to the first time around.

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With the big swim and bike behind us, that left Sunday as a recovery and race planning day. So an early morning relaxed swim and soak in the hot pools afforded us some much needed movement the next day. Although not many of us were enthusiastic about getting back in the bike saddle having spent several hours in it the day before. But Coach ran a short spin session on the indoor trainer to get the blood flowing again.

And then it was massage time. Oh hell, yes please!

With the extra, unanticipated recovery day in the middle, Monday’s long run was always going to be done on fresher legs than on the day. So this added the extra challenge of maintaining a pace that’s achievable when you’re tired, not running how you feel.

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In the two half ironmans I’ve done. I’ve got off the bike and run way faster than planned because I felt alright, which resulted in rapid fade towards the end. So for this run, it was all about slow and steady. I was aiming for a pace between 6:40 and 7:00 per km, using a run/walk strategy. With an alarm set on my watch for every 15 minutes, I inserted walk breaks at that time. In addition to walking the “aid stations” laid out by my husband and Coach.

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The key thing to this strategy is still to walk even when you feel you don’t need to, hence the alarm on the watch. It gives the body some recovery time which results in a better performance overall and delays fatigue.

In the scheduled three hours I completed one full lap and two thirds of the second lap, achieving 26kms at a pace of 6:54 per km. Just like the end of the bike on the Saturday, I didn’t treat the finish to this run as the finish I felt I could do. I maintained the same pace to the end, knowing that I’d have another 16kms to run on the day.

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So the overall takeaways from the weekend were confidence and a few learnings. Confidence I can do the distance. And learnings to help me get there stronger.

Records this week

Longest swim/longest open water swim: 3722m

Longest ride (distance): 178kms

Longest ride (duration): 7 hours 13 minutes

Longest run (distance): 26kms

Longest run (duration): 2 hours 59 minutes

Training stats for the week

Swim: 6597m

Bike: 202km (plus one Group Ride class)

Run: 40.4kms

Total duration: 18 hours 20 minutes

(stats include Monday 23 Jan to cover training camp)





Countdown to Ironman: 7 weeks to go

16 01 2017

I’m training to go slower.

I know, I know. That sentence seems to go against everything you think is right with preparing for a race.

Usually, you train to go faster. But for Ironman, I’m going to say I’m training to go better.

It’s such a big event that, for your first one especially, there’s no point having a time goal. I can tell you what I think I’m capable of doing it in, but I’m not interested in beating a time.

I want to finish. End of story.

So that means I need to pace myself to leave enough in my legs for the run at the end. After all, I’ve never even run a marathon. Let alone run one after a 3.8km swim and a 180km bike ride.

This week saw the second longest run of our training plan. It’s a great opportunity to practice what you plan to do on race day. Knowing I’m going to be coming into this on tired legs, I’ll be adopting a run/walk strategy. This involves setting certain times to run for, and then walking a little. And no matter how you feel, you walk.

I know that my strategy will be to walk all the aid stations. At about 2.5kms apart, the run in between will take approx. 15 mins, maybe a little more. So in training I’ve set an alarm on my watch to go off every 15 mins, at which point I slow down, take a breather and walk for a minute.

It’s pretty hard for the first walk break when you’re in training because you’re fresher than you will be on the day, even with the fatigue from the rest of your training. So your head tells you that you can keep going. But on race day I won’t be ignoring an aid station, even the first one, so I force myself to walk.

It’s good for the mind, the body, and the soul.

So despite the run being much slower than I’d normally pace myself, I’m probably keeping my form better – a friend said she saw me as I was heading towards home and that I looked strong and in good form still.

This is important as it shows there’s still something left in the tank, and I’m still running efficiently. I won’t be using up more energy than I need to.

Making it happen – no excuses

We have a phrase in our squad – no excuses. It doesn’t matter what the weather, or if you’ve had a bad day at work, the training still has to happen somehow. Or you risk making it hard for yourself on the day.

Fitting in all the training this week ahs been a challenge . I was travelling for two days with work so moved a couple of workouts around to fit that. I knew a bike on Wednesday would be tricky so decided to do it first thing Tuesday morning before I went away.

The weekend’s weather was a bit hit and miss. With a long ride scheduled for Sunday, but with a forecast for a really windy day, some of us switched our days round and went for the big bike on Saturday instead. This did leave tired legs for the bike hill reps on Sunday, but we weren’t out in the rubbish weather for too long. And rubbish it was. I encountered headwinds, crosswinds and tailwinds, all on one rep! Character-building is one way of putting it.

And the day the long run was planned was living up to Windy Wellington standards. But hey, what’s an extra bit of resistance training? What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Right?

Getting these sessions done, making them happen, are big achievements, not just physically but mentally. Making those Training Peaks boxes go green are so satisfying. But also completing them in less-than-ideal conditions brings extra pride!

 

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A nice morning for a BRICK (not!)

 

Dealing with mechanicals

It’s fair to say I’ve been pretty lucky with my lack of “mechanicals” during all my time riding over the last 18 months. So I was probably due my share. They just all happened to come in the same week.

As I mentioned, I chose to do my midweek bike on Tuesday morning before setting off on a work trip. As I neared home, I heard a loud metallic “ping”. I had no clue what it was and wondered if it was a loose stone just hitting my wheel.

I continued towards home, knowing that the stiff headwind would be a challenge as I approached the last hill to my house, but as I rounded the corner to face the northerly, it felt like it was harder than it should have been. So I stopped. On inspection, my rear wheel was rubbing against the frame. I couldn’t work out why. I tried to reset the wheel but couldn’t get it straight.

Luckily a group ride was passing and they stopped to offer a hand. It’s kind of law in cycling that if you see someone on the side of the road, you check they’re OK. The first guy couldn’t work out what was wrong either. It wasn’t until another joined the inspection that he spotted the problem.

One of my spokes had snapped. Completely in half. The spokes are installed to such a tension that one snapping easily buckles the wheel. And this is why it was rubbing the frame.

 

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First broken spoke

 

I couldn’t get the wheel booked in to be repaired until after the weekend, so I borrowed a wheel from my husband’s TT bike so I could still train on my own TT. We were 5 hours 10 minutes into our long ride when I pointed out some glass on the road to my fellow riders. Literally two seconds later I got a puncture. On my borrowed wheel.

I’ve had plenty of practice changing tyres in workshops and at home, but this was my first roadside fix. My two companions enjoyed the unintended rest stop while I, quite swiftly I’m proud to say, got the tyre changed. I think I spent more time looking for what caused the puncture than actually changing it!

It was only my second time using a CO2 canister to inflate my tyre, so with some trepidation I set it up, expecting a cartoon-like inflation. In reality it was much more underwhelming but it’s such a great time and energy saver to have those things handy.

About 10 minutes was all it took and we were back on the road!

Records this week

Longest ride (distance): 133.6lms

Longest ride (duration): 5 hours 22 minutes

First roadside tyre change

First broken spoke.

Training stats for the week

Bike: 183kms (plus a Group Ride spin class)

Swim: 7950m

Run: 36.8kms

Total time: 17 hours 38 minutes

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Race recap: Ironman 70.3 Taupo – the sequel

4 01 2017

This race recap is a bit of an epic. So I’ll start with a summary in case you only want the highlights.

I smashed it.

Although it’s never good to set yourself a time goal, I had one in my head. But I made sure I had tiered goals, just in case.

Goal 1: finish. Simple as that. And be happy with it because it’s still an amazing achievement.

Goal 2: beat last year’s time of 6 hours 18 minutes. A good bet because I’m stronger and better at the swim and bike. But anything can happen on race day so be prepared for things outside your control affecting your time.

Goal 3: go sub-6 hours. If all goes well, I believe this is achievable.

And achieve it I did. With room to spare.

5 hours 52 minutes. That’s a 26 minute PB.

In all honesty, I probably went a little too hard on the bike. This is where the biggest chunk of time is spent and is therefore your biggest chance of shaving minutes. I wanted to go under 3 hours so was gunning for this. I made it in 3 hours and 7 seconds!

That did mean the run was pretty hard and I had to dig deep to keep up the momentum, even as my pace slowed as the run wore on.

While I did take the biggest chunk of time off the bike (18 minutes), I’m happiest with my swim time. I took six minutes off that. While that doesn’t sound a lot, when you’re taking it off 44 minutes, as a percentage, it was the biggest gain.

Not only that, but the swim is much more about you. You can buy minutes on the bike leg. I’d bought a new bike. New race tyres to shave off a few more minutes. But the swim is you and your technique. And how well you handle open water swimming.

You know you did good when your coach yells at you, both at the swim exit AND three hours later on the run course, that you “killed it”. And then at that night’s BBQ, he asks if you cheated! LOL

I honestly don’t know where the speed came from. I’m a rubbish swimmer in the pool. But the wetsuit just streamlines my body position so much more, enabling me to focus on everything else, like my stroke length, head position and breathing. I wasn’t even drafting as I was on my own for long periods. So it was all me!

The run was a bit meh. My legs were pretty shot after the mammoth bike and all I could think about was working out what time I needed to do to finish sub-6h. I was trying to do the maths all the way round the course! Even though I slowed badly on the second lap, I still beat my previous run time with 2 hours 6 minutes, scraping 2 minutes off.

Despite the pain, as soon as the finish chute comes into sight, you get a buzz, you find an extra gear to finish strong. You want to look good for the finish line photo after all!

The medal and finisher towel, and the hug from hubby, makes all the pain worthwhile.

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The longer version!

In the days leading up to the race, even I got sick of hearing myself starting almost every sentence with “Last year…”

Truth is, it was hard not to draw comparisons, or on the experience I’d had in 2015.

I’d been here before. It wasn’t new to me. But I still must have been really annoying.

The 2015 race had gone so well for me I didn’t want to mess with the recipe (nothing new on race day, remember!).

But the only difference was I had the confidence that I’d done this before. This year I knew what my body could do. I knew could do this.

Race day dawned and there was a threat of rain and some wind on the bike course. The good news was the wind would give us a much needed push up the hill back into Taupo – which is unusual as it was the opposite direction to the prevailing wind.

That didn’t bother me. As long as the lake was flat for the swim. Luckily the wind direction was always going to mean calm waters.

After my tried and tested race breakfast of porridge, we set off for transition to do final preparations on the bikes. Mine was racked in a great place, right in line with the transition entry and exit gangways. I didn’t even need to remember which row I was in!

Once that was all sorted, we meandered down to the lakefront to meet with fellow squaddies and share some banter and camaraderie.

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Before we knew it, the squad was dwindling in size as the age wave starts began and people started wandering off to the starting “pen”.

Then it was our turn. As you can see from the photo, there were a few of us in my wave (fluoro green caps) so we had plenty of company. I wasn’t feeling any nerves, probably because I put no pressure on myself in the swim and I just want to finish it. Without putting that pressure on myself, I find I can keep myself pretty calm.

The Swim

I had a plan.

I wanted to swim smoothly, focus on my stroke and head position, and maintain breathing every three strokes. If I felt I needed to breathe more often, I would know I was going too hard and to slow down. I also wanted to catch some drafts if possible as this was something I felt I benefitted from heavily last year.

The first bits went very much to plan. I paced myself well so that I could keep my breathing regular. And my stroke felt long and strong. But I was on my own for so much of the race, I might as well have been the only one in the water.

I occupied my thoughts with working out what time the clock would say if I exited the water in the same time as last year. I was convinced that, without catching any drafts, I wouldn’t have gained much on my 2015 pace.

When I sighted, I felt I was also straying quite wide so figured I was going to end up swimming a longer distance too. I would have been happy to come out in an equal time and I knew that meant the clock would say 7.24am.

As I turned towards shore, the clock was illuminated above the exit timing gantry and made for a great sighting target. I followed my plan to the letter to make sure my hands touched the bottom twice before I stood up. I was desperate to see the time, but knew that if I stood up too early I’d be wading through water that was too deep.

When I got up and focused on the time, I was pretty astounded to see 7.18am on the clock and knew straight away what that meant.

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On the 400m trot along the carpet towards transition I encountered my cheering squad (hubby and friends) and then my coach and non-competing squad mates. Coach had said he was going to remind me to celebrate the end of the swim (after I forgot last year!), but just seeing them made me raise my hands and punch the air!

Transition was fairly straight forward and before long I was wheeling my bike out to the mount line to get going on the longest and loneliest portion of the race.

It also turns out I must have swum straighter than last year as I swam less distance!

The Bike

Because Lake Taupo is a beautiful freshwater lake, drinking during the swim is never a problem. The triathlons that take place around Wellington always involve a harbour swim so you don’t want to be swallowing gob fulls of salt! You typically do though, which means you’re desperate for some water when you hit the bike.

So it’s very refreshing to not feel that you desperately need to reach for your water bottle the minute you’re on the bike.

Hitting the lakefront on the way out of town, I could feel the light rain and see the roads were wet. I wondered if we’d get hit with a downpour and have to ride slower, or if we’d get away with it.

There’s always a photographer on this section, so I like to give them a smile and wave, and two thumbs up. After all, if I’m on the bike, that means I survived the swim right?

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Hitting the first hill out towards Reporoa, I was passed by Ange, one of my squad mates in my age wave. The great thing about our squad is we’re totally supportive of each other and want to see everyone do well. So there’s no animosity, only encouragement.

For about the first 20kms, Ange and I played “leap frog” as the varying terrain was a leveller. I even commented on it once as I passed her! But then the awesome Ange found her stride and took off, leaving me in her wake.

The rain didn’t materialise so it was a pretty pleasant ride and we weren’t hampered by the need to slow down for cornering in the wet.

As I mentioned earlier though, I was expecting a bit of a headwind on the way out to Reporoa. It was definitely noticeable. Not by Wellington standards of course! But still enough to lower your kph a little.

Because I wanted a 3 hour bike, I was gunning for Reporoa in 1h 30. Although the course changed from last year and added a little dog leg on the way out, I didn’t know if that meant the town was exactly half way or not.

I got there a little over my hoped for time. So the mind games started playing a little. Would I get any benefit at all from the wind going back? Would that “heartbreak hill” (again, not by Wellington standards) slow me down? What would I have left in my legs at the end?

As it happened, the wind certainly did have an effect. My bike splits between the way out and back showed around 3kph difference. Doesn’t sound a lot does it? But trust me. It’s huge.

I didn’t know this at the time though, and all I could focus on was my total time elapsed and how far I had left to go, working backwards to that desired 3 hour finish.

I hit “heartbreak hill” and just kept the power on. I knew the motorsport park that (sort of) signals the end of the climb, was after a left hand bend. I remember approaching one left hander thinking to myself that this couldn’t be the one as I’d got there so quickly.

But it was. I’d barely noticed the 10kms of climbing.

As I drew closer to town I was flying as much, and as safely as I could down the hills. I knew the course had changed from last year and the turn off the main road was one road later. It’s always your responsibility to know the course.

Only the guy in front of me didn’t as he slowed to take the turn we’d taken previously. And the marshall stood on the junction wasn’t doing a great job at directing him either.

Penned in by cones, I couldn’t easily go past the slowing rider, slamming on the brakes until he almost pulled into the closed road. I yelled “KEEP GOING” as I sailed past him (eventually) and took the turn at the next road.

All the way towards the bike finish I kept telling myself to remember to hit the lap button on my Garmin to make sure I got an accurate bike and transition time. When I got there I noticed I was just under 3 hours – but forgot that I’d started it about 30 seconds late when I set off. I think I can disregard those extra 7 seconds though. To all intents and purposes, I did it in 3 hours.

The Run

The short run with your bike into transition can often help to loosen the legs up for the last phase. The goal of triathlon is to be able to run strongly off the bike, so the faster you can get your running muscles warmed up, the better your run will be.

My plan had been to try and maintain a slow pace at first, building up to steady pace on both laps of the run. Last year I’d gone on feel and run a bit too fast on the first lap, slowing down badly on the second.

A couple of kms in I felt like I was running comfortably but took a glance at my pace. I was running about 20 seconds per km faster than I wanted to. I thought to myself “I must slow down – I won’t be able to keep this up”.

I honestly thought I was slowing myself down but my watch kept saying the same time. Then the hills came. They’re not big, but on tired legs they’re energy sapping. I managed to keep running up the second one to the 5km turn, knowing there was a fair bit of downhill to come.

My focus was just on keeping going. At each aid station I walked (which is always my plan) and took on board water and electrolyte drinks mostly. I grabbed a banana at one point when I felt hungry, and then grabbed a gel for extra energy.

At the end of the lap there’s a big, steep climb into transition and I knew I’d probably have to walk it. My legs were heavy and if I wanted to finish in a decent(ish) time, I knew that walking the hills was going to have to be my survival strategy.

Heading out on the second lap I did not feel the same as last year. Whereas I’d had plenty in the tank in 2015 and was happy to head out for lap 2, this time around I was already feeling sore and wanted it to be over.

As I was heading back to the lakefront, just 11kms in, coach yelled out “what would you say to your gym class?” referring to my part-time job as a group fitness instructor. I tried desperately to think about what I’d say to them – but I’m usually asking them to push towards the finish in a much shorter timeframe! I’m not willing them on for another 10km run when they’ve already done one. On top of the 1.9km swim and 90km bike!

Feeling the need for constant energy boosts, but not wanting gels, I started drinking flat coke at the aid stations. It may sound weird, but it’s a well used drink to give your muscles that extra oomph. I’d never used it before (I know, I know, nothing new on race day! But desperate times and all that). I soon learned that I needed to wash it down with water afterwards as I was left feeling very thirsty if I drank nothing after it.

The hill up to the last turn for home felt like a big old slog this time. I jogged up it as far as I could, but succumbed to the walk pretty quickly. I wasn’t going to be tempted by the Red Bull though!! Even if it is diluted.

At the following aid station there’s a photographer taking photos as you exit. You can see the marked difference in my body language between laps one and two as I struggled to get going after the walk the second time around.

I’m not smiling in any of my run photos to be honest, which I think goes to show how hard it was.

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By the 18km mark I was really starting to struggle but knew I was approaching the last aid station and then it was the home stretch. I just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

As every km ticked by, my pace seemed to be slowing further and although I wanted to beat my run time from last year (after all, I’d beaten all my other times) I wasn’t sure I’d have it in me. I was doing the calculations and trying to summon up a bit more from deep down somewhere to just get the job done. After all, if I wanted to get my sub-6h time, I didn’t need to beat my run time. I knew I’d bought enough leeway with the swim and bike to give me a little cushion.

But that’s not like competitive me…

So onwards I pushed.

I passed the crowd of squad mates with about 1km to go and they all cheered and said hugely encouraging things. I can’t even remember what they said but I do remember trying to raise my hands above my head and not having the energy. That’s how the run had sapped energy from my whole body.

That final hill up to transition loomed and I knew I wanted to finish strong. But I honestly didn’t know if I would be able to. My legs were like lead. I had to walk. There was nothing that could have got me up that hill any faster. Then stepping onto the grass, I knew this was it. The last 100m or so. That famed red carpet emblazoned with the MDOT logo beckoned.

It was by no means a sprint, but I managed to pick up the pace and pass a guy in the finish chute. That felt good! It also meant I wouldn’t be sharing my finisher photo with anyone else.

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The cheers from the crowds as I powered down that carpet gave me the final push and I managed to raise my arms this time. I’d done it.

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As I crossed the line a volunteer draped a towel around me, placed my all-important medal around my neck, and walked me off to the side. I wasn’t quite sure how I managed to stay standing, but I did. And I even took off my own timing chip.

Hubby barged his way through the crowds to give me a huge, and very welcome hug, telling me he believed I’d got under 6. I already knew.

I knew what my times were. I’d been calculating and pushing for times all along.

I knew I’d beaten my run time from last year on top of the huge gains in the swim and bike.

It had been painful. But it was worth it.

And now for the next challenge.

Ironman.

 





What a difference a year makes

18 09 2016

This time last year I was up in Taupo for my first ever half ironman camp. I was a complete novice with so much to learn. A camp virgin.

I had such a great time, and learnt so much, that I had no hesitation at signing up to go again.

Only this time I wasn’t so green. I had the benefit of a year’s worth of experience, multiple duathlons and triathlons.

And the small matter of a half ironman under my belt.

Reflecting back on where I was last year, the most significant change has been in my swimming. Camp last year was a bit of a turning point for me as I realised I really needed to work extra hard there. Rather than letting it defeat me and walking away from my goals, it made me more determined to get better.

This year I was moved up a lane. And I kept up.

And there were no tears.

I swim almost 1 minute faster per 100m than I did this time last year. That’s significant. I certainly wouldn’t have got here without the boss. But I also think I deserve a huge pat on the back (even if I do say so myself).

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It’s all well and good knowing your weaknesses. But if you don’t do anything about them, they’ll stay weak.

I could have got by in the half ironman without focusing on my swim technique. But that wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to get better at it and have some comfort and confidence in my finish time.

But at this year’s camp I learnt you can’t always expect to hit pace or time goals in an outdoor event.

I knew I was fitter, stronger and faster on the bike. One of my squad mates even commented on how much stronger I looked on the bike now. That has just come from consistent training – either on the road, indoor trainer or spin class. At camp I had two bike activities I could use to benchmark my improvements.

Or could I?

One of the most fun things we do is to time ourselves going full pelt around Taupo Motorsport Park. We have the track to ourselves. It’s a full on 3.5km sprint. And I had a time from last year to beat. Only this time I had an extra year of experience in the saddle.

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And I have a new bike. A flashier, faster one.

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But last year, we didn’t have the same wind. My God that wind!

So whilst I could confidently strut into Camp 2016 in the knowledge that I’m (probably) a better cyclist, my lap times don’t reflect that. I was a little bit gutted.

I’d been convinced that I’d smash last year’s time with ease. Create my own little PB. But when you round a corner and are pretty much stopped in your tracks by a headwind that feels like you’ve ridden into a sandpit, you might as well give up on any time goals.

And that’s exactly what could happen on race day.

What it made me realise is that I can’t set my heart on a time goal because it could be pretty futile if events conspire against you. Race day last year was almost perfect for me. It’s quite possible I’ll never race in such perfect conditions again. So whilst I’ll have a goal for the 70.3 this year, at the end of the day, completing it is enough of an achievement that anyone should be happy with.

And that’s this year’s wake up call from camp. But I still loved it.





Your training doesn’t have to take a holiday just because you do

16 09 2016

Knowing that the training season is going to start gathering momentum towards Taupo Ironman 70.3, we decided to take a well-earned break from both forms of work!

A week in the sun at Port Douglas beckoned to get us away from the Wellington winter and allow us to chill out before the triathlon season kicks in.

 

My life usually revolves around my training programme, working out what I’m doing when and moving things if I need to. When you’re training for three disciplines, it’s not quite as easy as throwing on a pair of trainers and heading out the door for a run, so you become and expert scheduler!

 

But being on holiday meant I couldn’t be a slave to the plan.

 

For a start, we wouldn’t have our bikes with us. And while you could hire bikes at our destination, we thought that e-bikes may have been a bit of a cheat.

 

But I didn’t want to take a complete break that might mean losing some of the good work that had been done to build up a strong base fitness. I still wanted to be set up well for the upcoming season. So what could I do?

 

The easiest option is obviously to run. After all, it is just throwing on a pair of trainers.

 

You’re likely to be on unfamiliar territory, so the key thing is to map out a route that you’re going to take. And if you’re going out on your own, make sure you have a way of getting back, or contacting someone to get you back. The last thing you need is to be lost in some unknown place!

 

Think about the time of day you’ll train too. We were in tropical North Queensland so we knew the temperature and humidity would be well above what we were used to. So we planned for early morning runs before it got too hot and too humid.

 

But also be aware that those different conditions might mean it’s harder than normal. Although I was running on the flat, I wasn’t capable of the same pace I’d expect from myself at home, where it’s cooler.

 

The bonus was new scenery and terrain. The beach at Port Douglas is really firm, meaning you can easily run on it without the usual “sand fatigue”. While running the path that follows the main road allowed me to get my bearings for the town.

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Our hotel was also blessed with not one, but FOUR 30 metre swimming pools. We know they were 30 metres because we actually asked so we could get an accurate reading from our Garmins! I’m sure they thought we were a bit mad…

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This made it easy to get some swims in. After our first swim on day one we made a pact to try and swim every day. It gave us a great opportunity to build some swim fitness and get a better feel for the water. It’s amazing how consistency can help improve your swimming and I never really understood when people told me that. But on return from our holiday, my coach made a number of positive comments about improvements in my stroke.

And do you know what? I can feel it too.

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Because while my training didn’t take a holiday in terms of me taking a break, I GAVE myself a break. I didn’t put any pressure on myself to follow the plan. I didn’t force any time or pace goals. I went freestyle. I did what I felt like doing and just relaxed. And I got something out of it.

It’s taken me another step towards a bigger goal.