Background. “A
little weak, lacks vigour”. From all the comments
written on my school reports, the only one I can still recall was this succinct
offering from my 6th form PE teacher Mr Pope. Or was it Poke? It
doesn’t matter, it just about sums up my sporting pedigree. About 8 years later, after watching my
brother, Adam at road races for a couple of years, I started running myself and
soon developed a love of the sport. I ran my first half marathon in 1984 and a
year later we took part in the first Farnham Triathlon. I was hooked. Fast forward a quarter of a century to 2008. 90
marathons, 9 Ironmans and countless other road races and triathlons later, and
the announcement of the UK’s first Double Ironman. Although I’d only made one
foray into the world of ultra running with a pleasing 12th place
in the last London to Brighton, I had vowed to take on another ultra challenge
and ‘the double’ seemed like the obvious choice. However, with a history of back and
sciatic problems I can only really target one big race per year (a bit like
Aldaniti) and had already decided to mark my 50th year with a trip to
Nice for Ironman France, so I settled on a watching brief for the first year. Reading the positive post-race comments
on the website about the organisation and feel of this event cemented my desire
to take part and, although I missed out in the original entry frenzy, a slot
became available around Christmas and that was it, I was in for Double Iron UK
2009. When Sue said straight away “I’m
coming with you”, I was slightly taken aback. Although she has always
supported me 100% in what I do, she hasn’t been to a domestic triathlon for
years, still refers to it as “triatholon” and expects to see “men’s
bits” in transition. It was a huge comfort to know she was to be my crew,
but I don’t think she knew what she’d let herself in for. It was also good to know that my club
mate Carl (Atkinson) would be doing the event too as his enthusiasm knows no
bounds and we could share ideas and inspiration. On publication of the swim waves, it
became apparent that I was ‘seeded’ third by virtue of a five year old 9:37
Ironman PB. I was under no illusion about finishing position though as the
previous year’s results showed athletes with a better Ironman CV than mine
finishing mid-pack. The double is obviously a different animal and I had no
pretension of anything other than a finish. That said, the 24 hour barrier
seemed like a good benchmark. Preparation. I’d had a disastrous running year
through injury with the only two long distance races I’d attempted, Bramley 20 &
London Marathon, both ending in a DNF. Things had picked up through the summer
but I’d only raced up to 10km, although I’d entered events for which I could
cycle up to 30 miles there and back to make it a worthwhile ‘brick’ session. My
longest run of the year was a slow and uncomfortable nineteen a couple of weeks
out. I’d planned to do some night riding and
running but this never materialised, except for one occasion during our annual
sojourn to Guilfest music festival, ten miles down the road. Having endured 2
sleepless nights in a leaking tent with incessant rain and a bunch of moronic
neighbours shouting at each other through the night, I finally cracked and
stormed out of the tent at 3:30am, threw some kit on and ran home to get some
sleep. I got disorientated and lost and it took me about 2 ½ hours but at least
I now knew the head-torch worked. My cycling had been getting stronger due
to lack of running but I’m not really keen on spending long, long days in the
saddle and my biggest (ever) ride had been the 126 mile Highclere Cyclosportive
in June. The majority of my riding had been a twice weekly session on the spin
bike in the gym. Metallica’s “…And Justice For All” became my best
friend. The best turbo album in the world…ever! Swimming was…. well, swimming. I’ve done
a couple of 10km Swimathons in the past and recently pool tested the wetsuit
over 3.8km without overheating so I was confident I’d at least get through the
swim. Race Day. Staying at the Holiday Inn, with a 1pm
start we had the luxury of a lie in and leisurely breakfast. Despite this, by
the time we’d pitched the tent in the rain, carried all the kit from the car
park and wished Carl, coming out of wave 2, well as he set out on the bike, I
was late racking the bike and still in the changing room when the lane call was
made. I slipped into the pool with about a minute to spare. I quickly introduced
myself to lane buddies Neville and Mike, said good luck to Denzil and Daz over
the rope, and we were off. Swim 4.8 miles (304 lengths x 25
metres). The swim was very civilised. We were
pretty evenly paced and any overtaking manoeuvres adhered to the ‘touch feet and
wait’ rule (thanks guys). I didn’t have any strict plans regarding hydration and
just stopped whenever I fancied a drink and other than a little cramp in the
latter stages, it didn’t seem long before I was lying on poolside like a beached
whale as Sue tried to wrestle off my wetsuit. Third from our wave out of the water, I
popped into the changing room with my bike bag, and selected shorts and
sleeveless top assuming I’d soon be on the bike under clearing skies. So the
weather forecast had led us to believe. Ha! We stepped outside into a raging
torrent where there used to be a path leading to transition as the rain
continued to lash down in spades. Now I’m not prone to swearing out loud,
if at all, and I don’t recall this, but Sue informs me the air was blue as we
waded up to the bike. Hopefully we were out of earshot, but apologies if not. Already shivering, and still in T1, I
had to delve back into the bag for a couple of extra layers including a
ridiculously inadequate waterproof. Swim + T1 (02:22:46 – 6th) Bike 224 miles (16 laps x 14 miles). Once I’d worked my way into the first
lap and got my head round the conditions, I began to enjoy the slightly bizarre
situation. It really wasn’t that cold once I’d started to work the pedals. If
you don’t think positively you’re onto a loser from the outset so, banishing
anything remotely negative from my head, I started taking in a few of the
landmarks which were to become oh so familiar, whilst settling into a
comfortable rhythm. Psychologically, the 16 x 14 mile format
was just about the right balance in that both numbers individually did not
appear to represent a major challenge. Just don’t multiply them together and
make 224. I’d jotted down a split timesheet for Sue showing best and worst
scenarios (discounting mechanical or physical failure) and it was great to see
her at the end of each lap, bottles and bars at the ready, and taking
instructions for the next lap. We’d not really discussed how it was going to
work but she just seemed to know what to do and when. A kind of sixth sense. Communication with the other athletes
was restricted to a knowing smile across the road, other than that it was head
down, dealing with the conditions and ticking off the miles. At one point during
the afternoon I headed out of the T-junction just behind a tractor and trailer
and, whilst enjoying a free draft for a few minutes, began to get a little
impatient as it was starting to hamper my progress. Seeing a stretch of clear
road ahead I pressed on the pedals, came out from the draft and gave it a
full-on sprint. Drawing alongside the front wheels I got the feeling Mr Tractor
Driver was unaware of the BTF ‘drop back when overtaken’ rule as I swear he sped
up again. Anyway, with a car looming on the horizon from the other direction, I
was now fully committed and with one last Cavendish-esque effort managed to
safely complete the manoeuvre with a cheery wave. As dusk turned to night, the rain
eventually abated although standing water on the roads and regular passing cars
meant we didn’t stay dry for long. Completing the first Ironman split
around nine-thirty, I had my first and only ‘climb off bike’ stop as Sue had a
bidon of hot tea and my tub of spaghetti at the ready. I allowed myself five
minutes to digest, changed my clothing and shoes, and ‘got back out there’. The first couple of night laps were fine
as this was a completely new experience for me. Sue refused to abandon her
station for some sleep, and although my ancient front light packed up after
a few miles, luckily I had a quality backup (thanks Pip) which lasted the
remainder of the night. As night drew on and the novelty factor
wore off, my enthusiasm gradually ebbed away. By 2am Sue had finally been
persuaded to take a break, the sky had cleared, the temperature dropped
significantly, a cold mist had developed at the far end of the course and I was
having great difficulty changing gears as my hands were no longer part of my
body. The eerie silence with only the occasional unidentifiable cyclist looming
out of the misty darkness, things had taken a gloomier turn. I was now passing
on through transition without stopping. I had enough drink and no longer wanted
food. I just wanted to get the ride over and done with. “Do you take what
I take Sue was back on duty (she hadn’t slept)
as I finally stepped off the bike. I was doubled over with stiffness and she
beckoned with her finger and just said “follow me”. We proceeded across
transition where she tapped on the window of a car and after a couple of seconds
a figure emerged from the back seat. A knight in shining armour. Step forward
Tim Pepper (race physio). Tim worked on my back, Sue handed me a bag of salty
pretzels and I slowly munched myself into a slumber. Sue slipped away for a couple of minutes
and returned with the news that I was now in second place in my wave and the
leader (Daz) had just completed his first lap. Well, having thought I’d be at
least an hour behind Daz off the bike, and not sure where the others were, this
was the wake up call that I needed and I was off that massage table like a
spring lamb (probably not). I thanked Tim, kissed my wife (hopefully
in that order, can’t remember), donned my running shoes and head-torch and was
steered in the right direction to start the run. Bike (12:57:06 – 2nd) Run 52.4 miles (42 laps x 1.24 miles). The run course started with a downhill
zig-zag out of the sports centre followed by a steady climb up to the “Devil’s
Staircase”, six wooden steps up to the section through “Blair Witch Woods”. I
was having a bit of trouble with the head-torch which would intermittently
‘ratchet’ down to my feet or up to the sky if I bounced too heavily. This made
running through the woods a little testing but the tree roots were well marked
with luminous paint and I managed to remain on my feet. It took about four laps before dawn
broke and it was light enough to see without the head-torch. A while later and
the sun was breaking through. Still in my cycle gear I began to feel
uncomfortably warm, I called for my running kit on the next lap. Sue handed me
my vest and shorts and not wanting to step too far away from the course, I made
an indiscreet attempt to change there and then. Not a pretty sight I’m sure,
apologies once again to anyone in the vicinity. I was lapping consistently in the early
stages, a fact noted by Trevor on the PA, who would give me a name check each
time. By lap ten I pulled alongside Daz coming out of the sports centre, and
(annoyingly, I’m sure) asked him what lap he was on. When he said “ten”, it
suddenly dawned on me for the first time that I might actually be leading the
race. Once again Sue was really pulling me
together on each lap. Dispensing electrolyte or energy drink, food on request
and most importantly, her lovely smile and positive vibes. The crowd in
transition built up through the morning with the ‘Tritalk’ and ‘Pirate’ support
camps and the atmosphere increased with each return. Just after halfway I reached another
crisis point. The sun was full on now and stopping each lap for a drink was
breaking my focus and rhythm. I’d heard that Carl was off the course and
unlikely to come out for the run. With athletes from the earlier waves beginning
to appear on their final ‘reverse’ lap, the thought that I still had another 20
or so miles of running to do began to make me somewhat depressed and tetchy.
Sorry Sue. “Anger, Misery I walked a couple of full laps, and my
main ‘dangers’ (I'd had word by now Daz was sadly out of the race), Anthony (TC) and Denzil looked to be running strongly. Although
they did not seem to be making significant inroads into my lead, I was unsure of
the time-gaps. At this point, Paul Thompson came past on his last lap from wave
2, which by rough calculation meant he was on for something around a 12 hour
finish. My brain was obviously pretty addled now as a bit more adding up had
myself down for well over that time and I thought that at this rate I was only
going to finish second if I was lucky. Ironically after the conditions of the
day before, I found myself wishing for some cloud cover and my prayers were
answered with ten laps to go. Finally getting back into some rhythm, I was now
running through transition without stopping. Grabbing, drinking, throwing,
marathon style. I had developed a non-stop run/walk strategy which brought some
consistency back to my splits and some energy back to my legs. My head seemed to clear too, and a
reappraisal of what I had to do revealed that I could still break 24hrs and the
overall win be in my grasp if I could maintain this pace (or rather momentum) to
the finish. Another boost was seeing the familiar
Farnham Tri Club kit approaching from the distance and realising that Carl,
fully refreshed, had come out to play again. ‘Nutter’! This had long since stopped being a test
of athletic ability and was now entirely down to mental fortitude to keep moving
and ticking off the laps. At last, PA Trevor called my name out as ‘race leader
starting the final lap’ and a wave of euphoria and relief flowed through my body
which lasted all the way round as I received congratulations and high-fives from
all the other athletes.
The final push to the line was a very
memorable experience as it finally confirmed that I had picked the biggest
sporting challenge of my life to record my first overall race win at the age of
51. Run (08:28:28 – 2nd) With a total time of 23hrs 48mins
23secs, I had also achieved my sub 24hr target. Overall (23:48:23 – 1st) Although not in the same parish as Hywel
Davies’ 2008 winning time of 21:30:39, with the greatest of respect to my fellow
competitors, you can only beat who is there, and if Hywel (who’s won lots of
things) says “winning the double is my greatest achievement”, then that’s
good enough for me.
Thanks to Steve and Eddie for putting on
the race and their enthusiasm and concern for all the athletes throughout the
event. Also the volunteers, marshals, supporters and everyone concerned with
keeping us going over the weekend. The Double Iron family. Special thanks to Sue. I think I may
have given the impression that for her it would be a weekend relaxing in a chair
in the sunshine with the radio, some books and her knitting, handing out the odd
drink occasionally. Soaked, cold, hungry and sleepless; not a page was turned or
a stitch knitted. I don’t think either of us had thought too much about the
reality but have both come away with a shared experience we will long remember.
I like this pic taken by TC’s mate Paul.
With scraggy hair, baggy shorts and spindly legs I probably don’t fit the mould
of your average triathlon winner but then again, this is not your average
triathlon. Or put another way, courtesy of final
finisher - the legendary Reverend Graham….
Copy of full results & splits spreadsheet
here
Link to post-race report on Tri247
here
A report from Enduroman Double
Iron UK, Lichfield, Staffordshire, August 1/2 2009
Endurance is the word
Moving back instead of forward
Seems to me absurd”
(Eye
Of The Beholder)
You’ll Suffer Unto Me”
(Harvester of
Sorrow)