So after years of putting it off I finally got a job that paid enough for me to justify blowing what felt like a fortune on a race entry, my ticket to Ironman Nice 2016 was booked. I was 29 and with 30 rapidly approaching I knew I needed to man up and get this done or the regret of leaving the Royal Marines would continue to burden me.
I had absolutely no idea of what this all involved, how it would feel, what I needed to do. My most recent multi-sport event was over 5 years ago and was a fair bit shorter (Super Sprint). Still, I had 12 months to get myself in some kind of iron worthy shape and answer all of these questions I had.
One of the big misconceptions of Ironman training is the volume required to complete one. Any google search will leave you thinking that you need to be up at 4am daily and put in around 20 hours a week with endless long slow miles on the bike. I'll happily tell you that you can get around an Ironman with a lot less than 20 hours a week, it might just be more painful...
The first 4 months of training were ok at best. At the time I was struggling with the combined pressure of a difficult job and caring for my Grandfather who was in the latter stages of cancer... I switched my drive to work for the bike which gave me around 150 miles a week of cycling and bolstered this with the odd evening run, spin class when my legs could take more bike time and the odd swim.
Suffering at spin class
It went on like this for a while, I knew I wasn't putting my all into it but it still seemed so far away... I wasn't swimming a great deal because I knew my technique wasn't the best and I didn't really like feeling bad at something, I wasn't running much because I was already a decent runner and I didn't want to ride more on the weekend because I'd spent the whole week on the bike... see the picture... excuses excuses excuses.
The highs and lows of bike commuting
The weather turned sour over the winter and I met Jo and training took a bit of a dive.
I knew I needed to do something to get this Iron show on the road so I started playing to my strengths... I started running; hilly and fast... the kind I loved but not the kind that would get me around an Ironman marathon. I finally stopped flogging myself up hills and swapped to running 3 half marathons a week at a pace I thought I could hold together for a marathon off the bike.
Despite being happy running through rain and snow in the bitter depths of winter, I still couldn't bring myself to go out on the bike unless it was nice. I hadn't been swimming in months either so I knew I would have to survive most of the course and rely on my strong run to get me home.
A good example of a typical non-ironman training run
As the race drew closer I knew I needed to do something to sort myself out so I booked a weeks leave from work and did my own training camp at home in the Wye Valley. I named this 'Cheeky Week', after a week in Marines training that serves as a thrashing to get you to the next tier of fitness. That week was a bit of a milestone for me; I managed to conquer my first solo hilly century ride, suss out a vague nutrition plan and nearly caught hypothermia after bullying myself to go swimming in the river. I came out of the week feeling slightly more prepared.
Trying to find some form on the bike during 'Cheeky Week'
2 weeks out from the race I dropped the training load and attempted a taper. Although I hadn't trained a lot each week, I had definitely become used to the constant trickle of endurance exercise fuelled endorphins that were now gone. This turned me into a complete pain in the ass; mood swings, twitchy, stressed... like an irritable coiled spring. Jo and my family got serious points for putting up with me through that.
Race week arrived and we flew to Nice. The nerves and worries were soothed by the view of my partly crushed bike box coming off the conveyor belt at the airport. Mid melt-down I opened it to find the frame was ok. Close call!
Race registration and loosen up swim complete
I'd spent much of the taper reading about how you should keep clear of the Ironman event village so you don't end up walking for miles and tiring yourself out the day before the big race. For me being as far away from this wallet raping circus wasn't difficult. It felt like a sea of expensive bits of plastic that probably wont make you faster and that you definitely don't need to buy. After my bike was checked into T1, I opted instead for a pizza and a chill out with Jo after doing a very light swim and a gentle jog along the front. Now to try and sleep!
The long awaited race day arrived I woke up at 3:30am after a seriously patchy nights sleep. I ate my pre-race breakfast consisting bagel, Meridian Peanut butter, honey and a banana and washed it down with a cup of coffee. I walked down to T1, put my drink bottles on the bike and pumped up the tyres... All that was left was to get myself together.
After nearly missing the race start after a nervous last minute porta-loo visit I made my way down to the beach and slotted myself into the 1hr 15min swim wave. I had no idea how long it might take me because I'd never swum this far and only clocked up two swim sessions this year.
The gun went off and I ran into the sea and began to swim. God the water was clear! I felt surprisingly relaxed being surrounded by the sea of people and distracted myself by remembering to hum when my face was in the water. This was my reminder to exhale as I swam. It was the most surreal experience, looking down into the beautiful blue water of the Cote d'Azur one minute, then watching the most amazing sun rise over Nice as I turned my head to breathe. I kept swimming and the water turned from light blue to dark and then back to light blue again... I kept going until I noticed the shapes of the gravel appearing. I survived the swim and exited the water in 1 hr 14 minutes.
Leaving the water. The day can only get better!
After cocking up and leaving my race number belt in my transition bag and having to run back through transition to get it, I headed out onto the bike course still nervous about what was coming. I stuck to my self imposed 160bpm heart rate limit and seemed to be overtaking loads of other riders on the Col de l'Ecre. The ride was so picturesque and despite climbing 12,362ft it felt easy. I think I was so caught up in the drama and excitement of actually doing an Ironman the time passed quickly.
The road narrowed as I headed back into Nice and came up on the back of another group of riders. Annoyingly they were riding 3 abreast in a mini peleton (I thought Ironman was a non-drafting race?!)... before I knew what was happening a motorbike marshal was beeping and waving a card at me shouting in French. My ski resort level French wasn't really on form after 2.4 miles of swimming and 112 miles of biking. Not really understanding what was going on I carried on into T2.
I headed out onto the bike for the baptism of pain that is an Ironman Marathon... Sh*t I've left my Garmin on my bike! I was already out of transition and on the run course so I couldn't go back... I felt an odd calmness and carried on running... Looking back I think this experience was destined to be about feeling rather than being a slave to numbers.
One lap down... 3 to go!
I had become pretty comfortable in my iron run pace (around 7:30/mile) so I settled into that fairly quickly. Every time I ran past my family the hairs on my neck stood up and a lump in my throat appeared. The half of the run was a blur and passed in around 1hr 45mins. I felt ok and kept taking orange slices and gels at alternate feed stations. I ran through the end of lap 3 and picked up the yellow armband.... f*ck I can actually do this!!!
Within 2 minutes of sliding that long awaited yellow armband on the fire and pain descended. My feet instantly felt like they were on fire. My quads felt like they had turned to pieces of wood that might split if I ran another step. The Ironman Nice run is a mentally difficult one because from each end of the run course you can see the other... and it looks bloody far!
Running through the pain I spent the entire time shouting at myself, out loud, probably looking like I was nuttier than squirrel shit. Tears in the eyes I rounded the bend at the airport and just needed to make it back. Feeling like I was running on hot coals I supped down a flat coke and dug in, almost delirious from the pain... finally the turn to the finish line appeared and I stumbled over the line in 11 hours, 11 minutes and 11 seconds. I saw Jo and held my arms out and she said "you did it! you're an IRONMAN!!!!" accompanied by a wave of tears. My god how long I've wanted to hear those words.
Finally! All the 1s!
Despite looking like death, I couldn't be happier. 100% couldn't have done it without Jo
I went for my post race massage and collected my t-shirt. The masseuse took off my trainers and revealed the reason that my feet were on fire... Look away if you're squeamish. Despite loosing skin and nails... nothing could take away how chuffed I was that I had this medal!
For those numerology aficionados amongst you, seeing repeated 1s in a sequence, most commonly 1111 is a big big knock on the door from the universe to pay attention and wake up! Seeing all the 1s usually appears when you are about to go through a major awakening of some kind of change or shift[ (Look at this site if you're interested in reading more)]().
Usually people only get four 1s.... Not really being known for doing things lightly I went for the 6!
The months that followed Ironman Nice proved to be months of great change... Starting with getting fired when I got back to work.
People often talk about the feeling of walking their path or their destiny... I never really understood that feeling until now....
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