My mum and dad were looking forward to a holiday chilling out in Phuket, Thailand. Personally for me and Mandy once you have seen one lovely beach you have seen them all, so we needed something more challenging to make it a holiday to remember. Fortunately the Foremost 70.3 Thailand Ironman was on while we were there. It's not really my distance, far too long and tough. I thought I would give it a try though, and Mandy was delighted to assume the role of chief organiser. It actually turned out to be very eventful. The short version is that the race went well but it was much, much harder than I expected. For the 12” mega mix War and Peace version read on.
Training had gone well and probably naively I was going there full of confidence. I knew the 1.2 mile swim would be no problem and possibly also the 56 mile cycle, but the big unknown was finishing it all off by running a half
marathon. I tried to replicate this in training by doing a hard 2.5 hour cycle followed immediately by 3 - 4 miles of hard running. That had gone well, which was the reason for my high confidence.
You have to give credit to Ironman for producing very professional events. The organisation was first class. Even the normally dull race briefing was slick and highly motivating. My confidence was now going sky high as the event MC convinced me that I would be the man, a 70.3 Ironman. A few days before the race I did a swim recce. I noticed "beware of the jellyfish" signs, which were a bit disconcerting. Mr MC Motivator asked if anyone in the room was worried about the jellyfish. I had to be honest, I was concerned about jellyfish, sharks and basically just about
anything in the sea. So, along with quite a few others I put my hand up. Mr Motivator shook his head and said, well you are all obviously not tough enough for an Ironman, just stay on the beach and drink coffee all day. That was
me told, but it did the trick, nothing was going to scare me off now. The only downside to the briefing was when the ultra miserable draft busters came on and told us they would come down hard on any course infringements. They said keep 12 metres behind any other cyclist and if you want to pass then you've got 25 seconds to do so, or
else you are getting 5 minutes of big trouble in the penalty tent. It was also a bit worrying when we were told the weather forecast for race day. A hot and humid 30 degrees, which would feel more like 40 degrees.
After doing the swim recce I got talking to a Chinese guy. He asked me what age group I was in. I said 50-54 and he said, no luck for you then, you are in with Jurgen Zack. No I've never heard of him either. The Chinese guy said,
you've never heard of Jurgen the "Zack Attack"……he's a legend. I thought I've got to google this guy. Turns out that
he was a bit of a triathlon superstar in the 90's, with multiple professional Ironman wins and a 2nd place pro at Kona
Hawaii in the Ironman world champs, the Holly Graille of triathlon. That was 20 years ago, maybe he is rubbish now. I did also notice that he had also served a 2 year doping ban back in his day, so maybe he might not be as good
without getting a boost to his red blood cells. Even if he was still good my confidence was sky high and I wanted to test myself against the best.
The day before the race I dropped my bike off in transition in perfect conditions. However, during the night there was a post monsoon season deluge of torrential rain. On race morning race conditions were perfect again, but my bike had been given a soaking and was ringing wet. I thought it best to re-oil the chain in case oil had been washed away. This wasn't easy at 5am, an hour before daybreak. There was minimal light in transition, so putting oil on in the dark was a bit tricky. I'm not convinced I got much on. I never thought I would need to add a torch to my triathlon checklist.
There were 1200 triathletes lined up to start the race. I was dreading the carnage as we all ran into the sea. However, Ironman have introduced a much safer rolling start. They started four people every 3 seconds, which was much less scary. It must've taken about 15 minutes to get everyone into the water. I was about 300th to start. Swim seemed to be going well as I was constantly passing people. Well apart from when my swim cap came off. I pulled
it back on and just succeeded in loosening my goggles. Then I had to stop again, take off cap and goggles, then replace them. Not easy to stop and find a space amongst 1200 swimmers.
Then it was a short run up a sandy beach and into T1. I knew it was going to be my slowest transition ever, as I had to wipe sand off my feet, put on socks, then slap on the factor 50 sun cream. My biggest fear of the race was my fair skin frying. Although I’d put on waterproof sun cream before the swim, I wasn't taking any chances and topped it up before the bike. I wasn't used to being in such a busy transition area, probably because I'd started quite far down the field. This meant I was surrounded by other competitors running out of transition. We ran along a narrow path before getting on the bike, so pace was dictated by the person in front, if they walked then you walked.
Once I avoided the crowds my bike ride was going well. The first 12 miles were on minor twisting roads. After about 3 miles I came off the tribars to go round a bend. Suddenly I was aware of something flying off my bike, I wasn't sure what it was, but when I went to go back on tribars I noticed one off the arm cushions had disappeared. The soaking during the night must've loosened the adhesive. I thought it was now going to be an uncomfortable ride. It turned out to be not quite as bad as I feared, but every time I hit a bump in the road it certainly was painful.
After 12 miles we had to dismount the bike and run across a narrow bridge crossing over the main highway through Phuket. We were told in the race briefing that we were privileged to be the first race to ever get permission to close section of the main highway for a race. The only way this was going to be possible was by dismounting and crossing the footbridge to join the right hand carriageway going north to the Sarasin bridge. Then crossing over this bridge into mainland Thailand for 3 miles before the halfway turn point. From a pre race recce on the bike course I thought 22mph was a realistic pace. This was exactly my pace until the dismount, by the time I remounted the bike
my average had dropped to 21mph. Just before crossing into mainland Thailand we went through a border checkpoint which had several small bumpy sleeping policemen. Going over them at speed caused my chain to jump off. I tried to play with the gears to get it to jump back on, but had to admit defeat. It only resulted in me gradually slowing down and every cyclist who passed would say "your chain’s jumped off mate". So frustratingly I just had to stop and put it back on.
Approaching the halfway point my lower back was starting to ache. This was disappointing as it had been OK in training. I suspect that when rebuilding the bike after transit, I had put the seat post a fraction too high. This was just enough to overstretch my back. I tried going on and off the tribars, but with half the bike course still to be completed I had to give up on the tribars and sit upright, which caused my speed to drop. By the time we returned to the narrow bridge over the highway my average speed was still a respectable 21.5mph, but after dismounting again to run back over the bridge my average had dropped to 21mph.
The bike to this point had been a lot more eventful than I imagined, but it was about to get worse. About 10 miles from the end I was in the process of overtaking someone. Then one of the misery gut draft busters appeared by my
side. He mumbled something about a penalty and held up 5 fingers. At first I thought he was saying I had 5 seconds
to complete my pass or I would get a penalty. So I turned into Mark Cavendish and sped by the cyclist. Then it started to play on my mind that maybe the marshal had said I was getting a 5 minute penalty. I'd convinced myself that this was the case and my motivation started to drop. When I got back to transition I thought it best to check
with the penalty box if I had been penalised. I asked the first official looking person, where is the penalty box? I didn't realise I was talking to the race commentator complete with his microphone. He then proceeded to tell me where it was over the air. I felt that I had just announced to the whole race that I was a cheating drafter heading to the penalty box.
The draft busters had been busy. In the penalty tent there were quite a few offenders waiting. I'd the feeling this would be the case as I had seen quite a few drafting myself and felt like the marshals had passed me by dozens of times on the course. I asked the official if I'd been given a penalty. She checked through pages of numbers, but
thankfully my number wasn't there and I was OK to go. So the very nice helpful draft buster had just been warning me to pass more quickly. However, all that waiting and checking had resulted in my second slowest transition ever.
So it was onto the run. Up until this point I felt I had been pacing myself well and still felt fairly fresh, but what a shock I got when I started to run. I've never felt so little running power in my legs. I felt as if my dad had sneaked into transition and swapped his legs for mine. I felt I was barely moving. This was a huge disappointment as I'd felt more tired coming off the bike in training but could still run OK. The strange thing was that I was still passing quite a lot of people. It was like the race was suddenly in slow motion and everyone was going at snail pace. I thought that gradually my power would return, but if anything it just got worse. Strangely one of the leading ladies, a lap ahead, was right on my heels. I kept waiting for her to pass, but she was quite happy to stay behind. She
stayed there for a good few minutes before passing. When she did pass I thought she looked like she was striding out and moving well, but she was barely going faster than me. How could I feel like I was hardly moving compared
to her, but we were going at almost the same speed? This race was turning into a weird dream. It actually turned out that she was the first pro lady, so maybe I wasn't running quite as badly as it felt.
The run route consisted of 2 x 6.5 mile laps. Each lap was an out and back. There were 5 feeding stations on the way out. This meant that if you also stopped on the way back, that there were 20 feeding stations on the run course.
I stopped at 19 of them. I had to convince myself to keep running and not walk. My legs felt like they were constantly going up the Chatelherault log jam, but just without the heavy breathing. The deal I made with myself was that if I kept running between feed stations then I could walk through the feed stations. There was also a big barrel in each feed station filled with iced water. In the water was a big ladle, so you scooped up the water and poured it over yourself. That felt pretty amazing. I found myself doing this at least once in every feed station,
sometimes queuing up to get my turn with the big ladle.
The run felt like it was taking forever except for the last kilometre, which flew in. My legs finally started to feel better. It’s amazing the tricks your mind plays on you. As soon as the finish line was within sight my brain freed up my legs and gave me some power back. Where was the power earlier when I needed it?
Crossing the line in an Ironman event is something special and has to be milked. It definitely puts a smile on your face after the ordeal you have just endured. I completed the course in 5 hours 15 minutes. Slower than my target of sub 5 hours, but I’ve still got to be happy with my 1st attempt. After the swim and bike I was bang on schedule, but a 1 hour 53 minutes half marathon was nearly 20 minutes slower than I’d hoped. At least that guarantees me a great handicap for this Sunday’s Christmas run. Coachess Mandy softened the dent in my running confidence by explaining the effects of heat and humidity on the body. Saying my system was having to work so much harder to
cool itself, resulting in slower running times.
It turned out that the “Zack Attack” did win my age group and I was 7th. He is still a bit of a triathlon star and was recently 3rd in his age group at the Hawaii Ironman world champs. There was not much difference on our times in the swim and run, but he is still a great cyclist and, although I did have my problems on the bike, he took 20 minutes off me. In the 90’s he was the first of many German “uber bikers”, who could destroy the field on the bike.
First pro male in the race was current world champion Tim Reed, with two time world champion Michael Raelert in 2nd place. I was surprised at the quality in the field. Richie Nicholls, one of Scotland’s best triathletes, and GB Olympian Stuart Hayes also made the trip to Thailand but both failed to complete the course. I was ahead of Stuart after the bike. I’m assuming he had some problems, but I’m claiming a Russell type victory over him.
Many thanks to Mandy plus my mum and dad for all their help and support to get me through this gruelling event.
I’m now in no rush to give this distance another try……..and as for a full Ironman, you are having a laugh. I’ve got so much respect for anyone who has completed one.
Martin
