Ironman Western Australia 2010

Ironman Western Australia (Busselton) race report, 5th December 2010

The seasoned Ironmen told me that the most difficult part of an Ironman was to be on the starting line. It is only after a few months training at insane morning hours, narrowly avoiding half a a dozen of collisions (mostly with Singapore taxis), straining ankle, muscles , spending 1/2h negotiating your luggage allowance with a supervisor at Singapore Airlines (the same one that tried to charge me 20 kg excess a few months ago and still has no clue about how the luggage allowance is calculated for sports equipment) and waking up at 3 a.m. on morning race that you fully appreciate what they mean. Yes, training for an Ironman is hard work - probably harder than the race itself.

It helps if you are slightly unsociable, a bit selfish (or some would say” focused”), don’t need much sleep, if your wife or partner does not mind you waking up in the middle of the night to check out your tyre pressure and setting up your alarm at 4 a.m. on Saturdays. Yes, it does help if you are a total nutter and if your social life revolves around your bike, your GPS and a bunch of like-minded friends.

It took me many years to enter my first Ironman but this stuff has been flowing in my veins for a long time. When I was 7 years old, I loved to hang from tree branches 3 meters off the ground, and counted how long I could hang on before the inevitable fall. Then I loved to time how fast I could get to school running and biking. One of my best gifts was to get a stopwatch when I was 10. I guess this was the beginning of my search for performance. 31 years later, I am a MAMIL (Middle Age Man in Lycra) competing against other MAMILS. And I still cannot live without a stopwatch.

My first Ironman (Western Australia 2009) a year ago was a bit of a nightmare. I had to dig deep to finish under 12h. This was a lesson of humility. I learnt a lot from it, especially about nutrition and, later on, completed Ironman France in 11h33 in June 2010. It almost fell easy in comparison but I was on my homeground. Then again I learnt a thing or two, or rather 50 different things, especially the fact that if you want to do well in an Ironman you need to put the hours in and train smartly. So from 12 hours weekly training in the first part of the year, I stepped up the training to 14 hours on average, with a couple of crash weeks at 20h. I also started putting more thoughts as to how I should train. 14 hours a week seems a lot but, compared with some, I feel like a part-timer. Most importantly, I trained with a bunch of guys who are absolutely fanatical about triathlon. I mean all my friends from the BPTC (Banana Prata Triathlon Club), and a few other guys. I was lucky enough to train with some of the best age groupers in Singapore, Arnaud, Ziggy, Stephen Pennell, Stephen Duerden, Gregoire Sauve, Jamie Meyer, John McCann to name just a few. And I owe a lot to Ziggy and Arno for infusing me with the fighting spirit that I have lacked on some previous races. The eve of the Ironman we had a bit of motivational speech. Ziggy told me “stop racing with your handbrake on, it is your third Ironman it is time to push yourself harder”. Some average performances earlier on in the year such Desaru ½ M dented my confidence. In retrospect, it was a blessing in disguise. When I came back from Desaru I thought “right, it is time you do something about your running”. On the other hand, I felt really good on the bike. The Tour of Bintan cycling race in October went well and the BPTC jerseys were often seen at the front of the bunch. So “Mixed feelings” is probably the best way to describe how I apprehended IMWA. It is a fine balance: over-confidence can lead to disappointment; lack of confidence is a recipe for failure.
So here we are Sunday 5th December, the alarm went off at 3 a.m. in the Banana Prata House. Unlike my first 2 Ironman, I fell quite relaxed. With 4 .5 hours sleep I can consider that I had a good night sleep. It is amazing how some days you just wake up and feel OK even after 4 hours sleep. Well, this was one of these days. It is really cold outside at least by Singaporean standards.
When we reached the transition area, around 4:30 a.m., I feel like a pilot going through his check list: tyre pressure: check, gels: check, goggles, check. As usual there is a long queue at the toilet, and the first mission of the day is completed (Ironman trick: race “light” but always carry you toilet paper with you before the start). Everything went very quickly, I met my friends from the BPTC, stroke a pose, and then here I am alone on this beach with 1,400 other “penguins” in their wetsuits looking at this massive peer (1.8 km long) that we have to negotiate. It is 5:20 a.m., I still feel good almost looking forward to 11h of pain.

5:45 a.m., Busselton jetty: this is it, months of training are coming to an end. As Mark Allen used to said “this is harvest time” even if am a small farmer. 3.8 km swim, a nice warm-up for the rest of the day. I feel relaxed in the swim, almost too relaxed. There is sufficient space around me not to have to fight with the other competitors. What a great change from Nice Ironman and its 2,600 competitors in a third of the area. The lap out is fast, but as soon as the veer around the buoy half-way, we can feel the current. I increased my stroke rate a bit to keep moving. After a while, I had a quick glance at the watch: 50 minutes. The beach seems really close, maybe 500 meters away. I am thinking “cool, I should reach the beach in 10 minutes”. But, as always, distances at sea are very misleading, and I finished in 1h04. Ziggy is on my hills, a mere 30 seconds behind. Slow transition (as always- something I definitely need to work on) then I hoped on the bike with my arm coolers firmly in place. It is a bit chilly out there so there are arm warmers today. Biking is my favourite part. All BPTC members tend to be strong cyclists and with 12,000 km+ of training in the first 10 months of the years we are all used to spending many hours on the saddle. I tried not be carried away – my aim is to do around 5h30. I know the wind will pick up and I tried to complete the first two laps at a reasonable pace, and eased up on the last one, eating, drinking, and getting the legs ready for the run. Actually, I am not feeling that hungry. On the third lap, I am only 400 meters away from the “special needs bag” (a bag you prepare with your food to be handed over on the bike course) when I started thinking “should I stop or not?”. I feel I have enough energy to complete the third lap without refuelling but I decided to take it easy and forced myself to eat these yummy cheese sandwiches prepared the night before.

I completed the bike leg (180 km) in 5h29, a few seconds ahead of my intended pace. So far, so good. I can afford the luxury of a slow transition (again!) changing my socks, rubbing vaseline between my toes, and visiting the toilet.
Then came the run (42.1 km), and the second saying of the day from 18 times Ironman Stephen Duerden “it is only 30 km into the run that you will know if you are really having a good day”. Well, it is only where you actually are 30 km into an Ironman’s run leg that you fully appreciate the significance of this quote. The first 30 kilometers of the run went uneventfully. I feel easy and the long training runs in MacRitchie seem to pay off . I reached the half-way mark after 1h45 minutes feeling fresh. The crowd is fantastic and with so many people cheering I am having goose bumps. I am feeling really strong in my head – After 25 km, I am thinking “Come on only 17km to go, almost there!”. My friend Ned passed me a few kilometres ago but is still in sight. Ziggy and Greg are behind. Arnaud who had an absolutely cracking swim and bike leg (4h49, the same pace than some pros!) is a full loop ahead of me. At km 28, I am thinking “now nothing can stop me”. I know it seems a bit over-confident but when you have trained so much for a single day event you need to think positive. My body however starts telling me a different story. Mind versus body! Ultimately, I have to slow down for the next 4 or 5 kilometres as I am unable to sustain the pace. I just try to keep steady around 6min/ km, eating, drinking and rebuilding some strength for the last few kilometers. This seems to work. By kilometre 35 I am feeling good again, just to see that the lead I had on Greg had vanished, he is just 2 minutes behind now. Then everything went quickly. Greg passed me only 1.5 km from the finishline and went on to complete his first Ironman in 10h34 (3h36 on the run). What a performance! I am glad to finish in 10h35. As for Arnaud he had such a cracking day (9h42).
All the other guys did well. I am so proud and happy for all.

Conclusion:

Ironman is addictive. The sense of achievement when reaching the finishing line outweighs all the hours of pain in training. It does not matter if it’s your first or 20th Ironman and if you finished in 9h or 14h. Reaching this finishing line is such a great feeling.
It is demanding but interesting as you have to explore your limits and learn more about training.
So what’s the next stop? I feel remotivated and would like to do better next time. Maybe aim for 10h.
I told you. I am a typical MAMIL….