Ironman Bolton UK 2016 – The Journey to Kona
As always more for my memories but for anyone who is interested here is a race report on Ironman Bolton 2016 and a little bit of the back story to my Ironman World Championship Qualification.
I did my first triathlon in Windsor, UK 17 years ago and ever since then I have dreamt of qualifying for the Mecca of triathlon events – the Ironman World Championships at Kona on the Big Island, Hawaii. For those that don’t know an Ironman consists of a 2.4 mile (3.8km) swim, a 112 mile (180km) bike ride followed by a full marathon of 26 miles (42km). Around the world and throughout the year there are a series of Ironman qualification races and each race is allocated so many “Kona Slots” which are distributed across the gender mix and age groups depending on the relative size of each event and group. In Bolton there were 4 slots on offer in my age group. This is the story of how I managed to secure one of those slots.
I had previously completed two Ironman races, the first in 2010 and another 12 months later. In both cases I had never seriously competed for a slot and in both cases I ended up walking the last 10 to 15km with Catie due to what then was believed to be an ITB knee issue. In the last few years I have made massive gains in triathlon – at the Half Ironman Zurich, for example, I knocked 50 minutes off my time from 2010. I am not entirely sure what has changed but I attribute a lot of the gains to taking up Ski Mountaineering in the winter which builds a great aerobic base, major weight loss (in 2009 I raced at 81kg and at Bolton I raced at 67kg so I have lost 17% of my bodyweight and I was not particularly “fat” back then) which benefits both the bike and run and getting a coach and as a result training a lot less but a lot smarter.
Preparations for qualification began 18 months ago and through the winter I trained with Duncan Robertson for the Patrouille de Glacier which was eventually cancelled due to weather but it meant I went into the triathlon season with a great base. I set my self the goal of racing at 67kg based on a body fat % of around 13% which is highly correlated with triathlon success. It is fair to say I became obsessed with managing my weight. I have pretty much weighed every meal I have eaten for the last 12 months and counted every carb that entered my body. This may sound obsessive but I only know how to do things in a highly obsessive, detailed, scientific and systematic way and so it was with my socks.
To give you some sense of the level of detail I was working at I had to replace my running socks so after online research I had bought 6 different pairs of new socks and then over a couple of weeks I “trialled” each pair making notes on comfort, grip, feel and so on to decide on which pair of socks to race in. Every aspect of my preparation was undertaken at this level which is why what I did in the final preparation is so stupid.
In the final 10 days before my race my knee suddenly flared up despite endless strength and conditioning work over the last 18 months. I did all the usual stuff to manage it, physio, etc but I also sore a premiere footballer knee surgeon who gave me a cortisone / steroid injection directly into the knee and borrowed some co-codamol hard core painkillers from my dealer / father-in-law Arthur. By race day it looked like the knee situation was under control but in all previous races it only went in the last 10 to 15km so I would not know if it was going to hold up until the final stage of the race.
In the last few days my weight was nicely under control (I had taken my own scales with me so I could weight myself on a consistent basis in the hotel – I know this is not normal behaviour) and I was following my coaches guidance for food intake in the last few days. My race day breakfast, once consumed took me to my 67kg which was my target race weight and so I was delighted. But this was where I failed – I was so obsessed with weight that I was missing the bigger picture. Despite having read extensively on the impact of dehydration on performance I was reluctant to drink any water prior to the race because I did not want to go above 67kg – for this lack of fluid I would pay a heavy price.
The swim began (my worst discipline) with a rolling-start which means there is not the mass of flailing arms and legs, punches and near drownings which typify an Ironman mass start. Despite this my watch got kicked somehow and I lost the screen which told me my pace. I raced the first lap of the course too fast at 1:44min/100m. As I was coming to the end of the first lap my left leg started to cramp and I immediately realised I had started the race dehydrated and I had made a massive error. I kept going, worried about the rest of the race, and swam the second lap too slow at 1:54min/100m but somehow managed a reported time of 1:09 and an average pace of 1:47/100m (accordingly to the official results). My target was between 1:05 and 1:10 with the latter more likely and as my result put me 53rd in my age group I was ok with that and came out of the swim feeling fine.
As soon as I was on the bike (my strongest discipline) I knew I was in trouble because the legs just did not feel strong when they should be feeling great, at least at the start of the bike leg. I only had two salt tabs on the bike so I took those but I was feeling thirsty and if you are feeling thirsty it means it’s already too late. Cursing myself I rode the two loop course as best I could. It’s a horrible course with terrible road conditions compared to Switzerland, 1,600m of vertical climbing, strong winds and endless 90 degree corners and short climbs and descents which means you never establish a rhythm. I faded badly and could not hit my target watts and my average bike speed was well below target. Catie was on the course and I saw her twice and she had been manually calculating my position and told me I had moved up from 53rd to 13th. I completed the course in 5:42 with an average speed of 31.6km/hr but I had deliver comfortably 33km/hr in training and was targeting 32.7km/hr so by this stage I felt my hopes of qualifying fading. As I approach T2 (“Transition 2”) I forgot to take the co-codamol which I was carrying on the bike.
I took 6:28 in T2 because I had to apply kinesiology tape to my knee before starting the run. The run begins with a relatively flat section of 13km or so before the start of the 3.5 loops of the course. My target pace for the first 20km was 12.5km/hr and I was too fast in the first km and forced myself to slow down. In training I was running at sub 3 hour marathon pace 14km/hr plus without leaving HR zone 2 so I was hoping that to run the marathon in 3:15 to 3:20 hours.
As you enter the loops there was a really steep hill and at the top of the hill both legs went into spasm and a searing pain burnt its way through the muscles in top inside parts of my legs – I thought my race was over but I hobbled on an thankfully the pain subsided and I pressed on. I started the first loop and eventually arrived at the “special needs” aids station where Catie was waiting for me and where she is allowed to provide assistance. I took the co-codamol she had with her and headed out for the second loop. Each loop comprises a very steep hill followed by a long uphill drag before dropping, climbing and then descending back down the steep hill to see Catie again. At the top of the steep hill my legs went into spasm again so I reaslised I need to shuffle up these short hills to avoid the loss of time waiting for the spasms to subside. I pressed on.
I saw Catie again at the end of lap two and she told me I was now in 11th position and I knew that at 11th my chances of qualifying were slim especially as I was nowhere near my target pace of 12.5km/hr.
The third full loop was a very dark place full of self-doubt, self-recrimination and anger to complement the fatigue and pain – at least my knee had not blown up (yet). I saw Catie again and she excitedly told me I had moved up to 6th place and I could not believe it. Suddenly I had a chance again and, as in life, it is hope, even the faintest glimmer that keeps you pushing on. I decided to bury myself for the last 7km and pushed on.
I crossed the finish line after 3:38 marathon which was the 7th fastest in my age group and put me in 7th place overall (Catie had not spotted Stephen Nimo ahead of me as she was trying to estimate my position – we both cursed Stephen Nimo). So overall I was 7th with a time of 10:41 which was massively disappointing as I was looking for 10:10 or better and a place on the podium and a guaranteed Kona slot. I was so cross with myself about the hydration.
As soon as I crossed the finish line my calf cramped massively and I felt really dizzy. They found me a chair and they called over the medical staff. I was taken to the medical / recovery tent and they gave me soup and I had a couple of slices of pizza and felt much better after an hour. We left and I went to the loo but when I came out the dizziness returned and we went straight back to the tent and lay down. This time they took my pulse which was 170bpm (my resting heart rate is about 38bpm) and tried to take my blood but my veins “had collapsed” due to de-hydration. After finally getting a saline drip into my arm they connected my up to a portable ECG machine and noted some “variations” in my heart which meant they called an ambulance and sent me off to Bolton hospital!
The NHS was incredible! They ran another ECG and said – “hmmm, that looks a bit unusual” we need to keep you in overnight for observations and more tests. I was still feeling terrible at this stage, four hours after the end of the race, and at this point I noticed the drip was not dripping. I asked if this was normal and they realised that the team in the medical tent had bent the cannula and so nothing was getting into my system. They put in another one turned on the taps and in a few minutes pumped my body full of saline and almost immediately I began to feel better. They then set up another one.
They told me the consultant would visit tomorrow morning at about 10:00am and that I would probably be able to leave about lunchtime. The award ceremony and Kona slot allocation was at 11:00am and I told them that I would self-discharge myself at 10:00am so they said they would do all they could to get the consultant to see me first. I did not sleep at all mainly due to my neighbour, 86 year old dementia sufferer Frank, trying to run away from the award every hour or so – he was probably faster than I was in the third lap!
The consultant arrived as promised and said there was nothing wrong with my heart I just have “an athlete’s heart” and that it was simply a case of massive dehydration. We left and drove to the awards ceremony.
It was more in hope than expectation that we sat through the awards ceremony and then were forced to watch a video of the Kona race from last year which just made me ache with longing for a place. Then the slot allocation began – this is torture!
They begin with the oldest age-groups first and work down – I could not believe how sprightly the 70 to 75 year old qualifiers were – most of the youngsters could just about shuffle their way onto the stage. Slots are allocated based on your finishing position and as they call at your name you have to shout out “hell yeah” or something similar if you want to take your slot and the crowd goes wild. If you do not take your slot there and then it “rolls down” to the next placed athlete. I needed three people to decline in order to get a slot.
The first slot went immediately. The second was declined so I need two more “nos”. The third placed athlete took his slot so things were not looking good – only two slots left. The 4th placed athlete said “no” so out of the two remaining athlete’s ahead of me I needed one of them to say “no.” They called out the name of the 5th placed athlete and there was no reply and my hopes lifted, but then a man started making his way to the stage to take his place – there was one slot remaining. It was all down to whether Stephen Nimo would take his slot. His name was called and there was no answer – I was going to Kona and I silently thanked Mr. Nimo.
Expeditions 