The run from hell

I know, I know, you’ve all been waiting patiently for the next exciting episode,  but I’ve been a bit busy, what with flying to another island, getting married, honeymoon etc.  No excuse eh…

When you last left me, I’d come back off a pretty challenging bike, with strong head and cross winds, and the hill that just kept giving.  Towards the end, I was feeling pretty good, apart from a bit of cramp starting to creep in, which I didn’t think would be a major problem.  I followed some dude with a crusty looking back down the Fairmont driveway, the salt rings on his trisuit demonstrating the massive amount of salt he’d lost during the bike leg, and looking for all the world like some 3rd year science experiment gone wrong.  I tried to point this out to him on the way past, but he didn’t seem to register.

These few clues could have prepared me for what was to come if I’d really being paying attention.

Entering T2, I passed a few folks struggling with their running shoes, and made my way to stand 1004 (my race number).  As I’d already spent so much time in T1, I didn’t have much to do here, but opted to take off my top, apply more sunscreen and put a dry top on.  I legged it out through the run exit, and allowed myself a small confidence booster, as I knew the run should have been a good section for me – it normally is, and I run this distance regularly – at least once a week.  Should be in decent shape here.

Hmmm…

Out of the gate, I’d arranged to meet Ana a few metres up, gave her a quick kiss and grabbed my fuel belt which had a couple of little hip flasks loaded with Nunn – an electrolyte replacement to help with all the salts I’d lost through sweat.  I knew I’d be needing these right away and took a quick swig to get me started.

Within 1 minute on the course I knew this run wasn’t going to be a picnic though.  The grass was a real calf buster, and the humidity was unbelievable!  Anyone who thinks running on grass is easier hasn’t done it in Hawaii.  A wheelchair athlete just ahead of me was really struggling, and when we came to the first bump, he ran into trouble.  He’d obviously tried to use momentum to carry him up the rise, but didn’t quite make it, and had stalled about a metre from the top.  All the poor bloke could do was hold on to his wheels, ’cause letting go to push on would have seen him make an unwanted retreat.  I was just coming up behind to see if I could help, but some guy got there first and gave him a shove up – don’t think the rules about outside assistance apply in this case.  How was he going to cope with the rest of this course though?  How was I?

Anyone who’s ever walked a golf course knows how many little bumps and dips there are.  Having never swung a club in my life, I didn’t.   Up a few metres, down the other side, up again, down, up, down, up, down.  ’What’s going on here??’

The route changed to paths intended for a golf cart, but the nature of the course made this off camber.  For some reason, I had a pain on the outside of my right foot – right where I had to put my weight on this weird path.  I soldiered on.  Up and down, heat and humidity coming up from below.  Some bright spark had lined the paths with more lava rock (i.e. glass) just to add to my misery.  It was horrible - truly horrible and soul destroying.

At one point, the dreaded  thought popped in – ‘am I actually going to be able to finish this?’ – now this type of thinking is poison and I knew it.  If you let this creep in when things start to hurt, it just rattles around in your head over and over, and can become a self-fulfilling prophecy.  I put it in a box and left it there.  There was no way on this earth that I wan’t finishing, even if I had to grab a lift from the wheelchair bloke.

The path kept on giving – up and down, up and down, up and down.  My calves and quads were hurting, and the slight cramp from earlier was getting worse.  I was only a couple of miles in and it wasn’t getting any better.  Sometimes, when I run off the bike, it does take a while to settle in, so I pressed on, hoping for a breakthrough moment.

All around me were casualties – shuffling and sweating.  One tall and skinny bloke was barely lifting his feet off the ground – he was all hunched over and looked like he’d been going for hours (which of course he had).  There was no way he was going to make it, I thought.  I picked up the pace a little, but a quick glance at my computer told me I was still only running at 10.5 min/mile pace.  I normally run this distance at better than 8 min/miles – sometimes much faster.  This wasn’t good.  I passed a woman who looked like skelator’s granny – one of those really lean running types who had obviously been running marathons for 40 years.  She was hurting.  I was hurting.

The terrain changed and we finally hit some tarmac – ‘at last’ I thought, ‘maybe now I’ll be able to get my legs moving’.  The cramps had been getting worse, but if I could get into a rhythm maybe I’d be ok.  My quads were becoming a real problem.  I’d been taking on plenty of electolytes, but was that enough?  Maybe the damage had been done on the bike?  Had I pushed too hard on the way up to Hawi?  I didn’t know, but that wouldn’t help anyway.  I stopped for a quick stretch, then headed on.  Passing an aid station, I grabbed some banana which contains potassium and might help.

The aid stations are worth a mention for sure.  As on the bike, the volunteers were absolutely fantastic – in the local vernacular, awesome.  Good jawwb.  Later on in the race, I came around a corner to spot what appeared to be some very attractive girls in bikini tops handing out drinks and motivation.  As I got closer though, I realised they were actually what Darren later referred to as ‘the jailbait station’.  Eyes front boys…

Around mile 5, I caught up with Darren outside a porta potty.  He’d been in it already, along with the previous 3.  Things weren’t going according to plan for him either.

By this stage, my cramps were a real problem, and I was having to stop every mile or so to stretch out.  When I’d try to stretch my left quads, the hamstrings would cramp, so I had to stretch them first.  This was torture.

The sun had gone behind a cloud but the heat and humidity were still there.  I struggled on, but the terrain and conditions were tough. Mentally, I was not in a good place.  As I hit the dreaded ‘road of the dammed’, I was in the worst possible headspace.

I didn’t know exactly what to expect, other than it was supposed to be the hardest part of the course.  People who’d done this race before had been talking about it in hushed tones, and even the race brief had said ‘people go on at mile 9, and come out at 12 looking a whole lot different’.  Oh dear.

Picture a straight tarmac road, full of holes and cracks.  Lava fields either side, and nothing to see except where you had to run.  The people on the other side of the road, who were on their way back, looked mostly melted and crushed.  On and on it seemed to go.  I was passed by Skelator woman and shuffler.  An old boy, who must have been well into his seventies ambled past.  Darren’s warnings about being passed by ‘..an old man, an old woman, a fat man and a fat woman..’ were prophetic.  I was being passed by everyone.  Darren ran past me on the way back – how had he got in front of me?

“Hey Ronan, ask them if you can run down this again a few more times…”

On and on, then finally the turn point.  Right then, I realised the last mile had been a steady downhill – not too steep but enough to put the boot in.  My quads were vibrating at this point.  I stopped to stretch again by the mile marker, and the old boy shouted ‘what a great photo that would make hehe’.  He was probably right, but I wasn’t laughing.  Up the hill, cramp, heat, cramp, keep going.  This course was someone’s idea of a very bad joke.  How could they make people run down here?  Why Jeebus, why?

By mile 12, I was feeling worse than I’ve ever done while running.  Back on to the grass for the last bit.  It was beautiful, but all I could think about was finishing.  By this stage, I was only a few minutes off my goal of going less than 6 hours, but I knew there was no way.  I resigned myself, and decided to slow as much as I needed.  The pain in my muscles was no fun.  I managed to strike up a conversation with some super fit looking woman, who just echoed my own thoughts – “worst run ever” she said before I had to stop again as my legs spasm-ed.  I had to stop every 100-150 yrds now.  Get me to the end.

Then all of a sudden I could see it.  Thousands of people, music blaring.  There were definitely large quantities of meat on the bbq nearby.  After feeling isolated for so long, this was a bit bizarre, but in a good way.  I somehow managed to run through the finishing arch, hoping that I couldn’t cramp up on the way through and have my photo taken looking like John Cleese.  Some bloke was standing next to Ana and he started spouting some Americanisms at me as I came forward.  I wasn’t in the mood.  Turns out he was a really nice guy that had been helping Ana, but I just wanted to sit down.

I’d made it.  Finished in 6.16.49.  Slower than I was aiming for, but I couldn’t have planned for the run.  Cramp had done me in, and I’d run my slowest ever half marathon.  On a good day, on fresh legs and on the flat, I can cover the distance in a little over 1.35.  Today, it took me 2.24.  That should give you an idea.

Darren later said – ‘Now you know.  You can’t tell someone about that run unless they’ve been here’ and he was right.  He also said that having done several ironmans, that run was as mentally challenging as it comes, which made me feel slightly better.

All the analysis in the world wouldn’t change the outcome, but I definitely could have done some things differently.  Better transitions would have shaved minutes off, and I don’t think the extra time I spent really made me much more comfotable.  My fitness wasn’t really the issue, but late changes to the bike position (cardinal sin) may have been a factor in my leg cramps, along with the heat etc.

It sounds like I’m being negative, but that’s just the competitive side coming out.  In actual fact, I really am proud of myself.  I’d set myself this challenge and now it was over.  I’d trained hard, made sacrifices – missing out on a social life, getting up early to train, watching what I eat, going out at night after a long day at work etc etc.  The list goes on.

The fact of the matter is though, these things are part of it.  There is a lot of satisfaction in working hard and seeing the payoff.  Seeing my fitness improve and feeling better about myself in lots of ways.  The phrase ‘challenge is it’s own reward’ is clichéd, but true.  I’ve so many people to thank – all the people who supported me – my friends and family, my coach Fiona Ford (http://www.triathloneurope.com/) and most of all, my lovely wife Ana, who puts up with bikes in the flat, sweat on the floor, smelly kit everywhere and generally being a triathlon widow – Couldn’t have done it without you honey.  Thank you so much.

So – what next?  Well back here to tame that run of course.  At the time, I was sure I’d never run on that golf course again, but within about 30 mins of finishing, that thought was out the window.  I’ll be back…

The Race

The big day had finally arrived…

We’d been getting up progressively earlier each day, so by Saturday, the 0400 start wasn’t as bad as it sounds.  I’d checked out all the kit, then checked it again, went through it all in my head, and checked it again.

Long distance triathlon works differently to normal races, where you come back into the same area between each bit – the ‘transition’ area.  Here, you have different transition areas for swim-to-bike and bike-to-run, so all the kit you need for the race has to be packed up and entrusted to the organisers before the start.

In the case of bike to run, my bag had to be in on Friday afternoon, so cue major paranoia that I’d forgotten something crucial.  Ordinarily, the only crucial things are your shoes, but here, that could be a chap stick or sunscreen.  Imagine how I felt when I handed over my bag to some old dear in a wheelchair who proceeded to put it in a bin bag next to her…’Does she even work here…has she just wheeled herself in here looking for the bathroom and thought she’d help out??’

Evo the wheeled destroyer had been dropped off at T1 (Hapuna Beach) the evening before, so after a forced breakfast, I headed up to the hotel reception to meet Jamie.  He wasn’t hard to spot in his blue Team Laws (teamlaws.co.uk) trisuit, with the rainbow on the front.  There were a few blokes trying to catch his eye, I noted, but he was far too bleary eyed to notice.  The Americans were all sizing each other up.  Total ego-fest.

We hopped in the van and headed over to the swim start, chatting nervously and sipping Nuun & water.

Got into transition and figured out our bearings.  I gave the bike the once over and pumped up the tyres, but my water bottles on.  It all looked good. I clipped my shoes into the pedals, ready for a quick start, but that would turn out to be a problem later.  J-roc had forgotten one of his water bottles though (the tube) but it wasn’t a complete disaster – he opted to crack on, as he had his aero bottle on the front, and plenty of aid stations along the way.

The sun was up by that stage and the light reflecting of Darren’s shiny dome told us he’d already arrived.  We headed down for body marking and back up to change into our swim gear.  This was it – there was no backing out now.  The adrenaline was definitely flowing – that mix of nervousness and excitement, and the air was full of it.  Everyone had dropped out of chat mode, and into thousand yard stare mode.  All the big egos were out in force by this stage.  Darren had gone out for a deep water start, but Jamie and I both needed a leak, so we headed for the nearest toilets.  Big queues were to be expected, but we managed to pick the place with only two cubicles and no urinals.  Some old guy came up behind me and started chatting, which was a welcome distraction from the madness and the pain in my bladder.  Made it back out with about 3 minutes to spare, and ran down to the start line.  It was like running into the set of some film.  Loads of people were cheering us as we came through the entrance arch, and my vision seemed to sharpen up a bit (although that might have been sunscreen in my eye). Over the tannoy, someone was singing away, but I couldn’t tell you what it was.   ‘Good luck man…you too’…

Cannon….

We were away.  The swim ruck was in full effect – arms, elbows, feet everywhere, salt water, rocks, fish, feet, bubbles.  I kept it together for the first hundred metres and found some clean water.  ’Get a pair of feet to stick behind and get a draft’.  ’Nah – you’re too slow, overtake’.  ’Someone else – there’.  ’Right, settle down, don’t go too fast and blow up.  Stroke, breathe, high elbow, don’t lift the head…’

I talked to myself the whole way around that course.  It was choppy in places, and you could definitely feel that it was harder at times.  The water was absolutely beautiful though - crystal clear and warm.  There were plenty of fish to distract me, but I tried to keep focused on what I was doing.  I was aware that the course was changing, and was now on the long leg.  The buoys were hard to see with all the choppy water and other swimmers, so I went wide of the first two.  Was swimming well, but wasn’t expecting the last turn to come up as soon as it did.  I normally have a few bad moments on a long swim, but I felt pretty good all around this one.  Got to the beach and there was a carnival going on.  All the spectators cheering, music pounding, and could see Ana and Gemma standing near the swim exit. I came out in 43 minutes dead, for what was about 2km in the sea (running a bit wide to avoid the congestion at the buoys).  Just time enough  for a cheesy pic, then on to the showers.  Wanted to get the salt off before tacking that bike.

To get back up to transition, some joker had put a really steep hill, but I dug in an ran on, passing about 30 people who were walking it.

In my plan, I always knew T1 would be slow.  I was favouring comfort over speed, so wanted to get dry, sunblock, and complete change of clothes.  My pristine white top was now covered in the stupid ink they use for putting on a (pointless) race number.  Never mind.

I finally got out to the mount point, and realised my schoolboy error from earlier.  Remember the shoes clipped in?  Normally, I would use some elastic bands to keep the shoes level so I can slip them in easily.  Not this time!  Got one in, but the exit was up a hill and the other shoe kept dragging along the deck.  ’Keep it together’ I thought.  Tried a few more times, but had lost the initiative, and had to get off, take both shoes off the bike, put them on my feet and get back on.  ’There’s a good minute or two lost’, I thought, but now was on my way.

You’re not supposed to be within 7 metres of someone unless you’re passing, because you get the benefit of their draft.  That wasn’t going to be a problem.  I was tearing it up, breezing past people one by one.  A quick glance at my heart rate, and knew I was pushing -but not to much to be a problem.  Keep going.  The heat coming off the road and the volcanic rock either side was fierce, but I was feeling good.  Evo was tearing up the competition – P4s, Ceepo Vipers, and all kinds of super-expensive bikes were being left in our wake.  About a million dollars worth of bikes and kit on the road that day.

I remembered all the warnings about not getting enough fluids and fuel on the bike and started right away.  Soon enough, I settled into a good rhythm, and found my bike buddies – the six or so people I would swap places with all the way back.   There was a young lanky bloke on a Felt , Aero boy (in some sorta kinky looking red outfit and aero helmet).  K-Swiss Pinarello Girl – Hot (KWPGH) and K-Swiss Pinarello Girl (you get the idea), and my favourite – lets call him, Ridley Dean man; he was on one of the nicest and trick-est bikes out there (about 7 grands worth of your Earth pounds), but not making the best of it.  He was a big dude, and probably quite strong, but I don’t think he knew what the aero bars were for, as he rode almost the whole way on the base bars.  Every now and again, he would make a push (mainly on downhill dips), then I would catch him again 50m later.  Having driven the course the other day, I had a decent idea of what was coming, so I wanted to keep a bit in the tank.  Soon enough we came to the run onto the 270 and the hills started.  The heat went up a notch, but it was bearable.  Rolling hills for miles and miles, then as we started to get closter to Hawi, the headwind we’d been promised by the weatherman.  I was really tough in places.  A long, slow grind, and because I’d slowed down, much hotter.  On and on.  My legs were hurting.  Spotted Darren on the other side, on his way back, but how much further was the turn?  Another few miles and I could see it.  At least we’d have a tailwind on the way back I thought.  Although the roads were mostly closed to normal traffic, I passed some biker on a Harley with his hand out to one of the volunteers at the aid station.  ’Budweiser please’…  I thought about it briefly but opted for water.

Downhill at last, but WTF?  Headwind again?  Surely not. It seemed like the wind had changed, and we were now getting a head-stroke-cross wind…which is the very worst kind.  Evo’s wheels are deep section, and although very slippery into the forward air, the broad tubes do present a large cross section, which the wind hits, and pulls you across the road violently.  It was gusting, and I was doing about 35-40mph, in the aero bars, making it all the more twitchy.  I was genuinely afraid at times – one strong gust and you could end up painting a pretty pattern all over the volcanic rock (i.e. glass).  On one particularly dodgy bit, I was fighting to stay upright, leaning over to my left in an attempt to trim.  Some blonde American (lets call him, say, ‘Dickhead’, on a Cervelo shouted ‘out of the way’.  ’Twat’ I shouted back, enraged – can he not see I’m only just about in control here?.  I’m not normally one for road rage, but this guy deserved it.  I would later pass him about 5 miles from the end.

The wind backed off as we got lower, and Evo was loving it.  There flecks of blue light coming off his front wheel as I got up to nearly 50 in one spot, but KSPGH came past going faster than I was – WTF?

The last few miles back to the Fairmont were getting hotter, as by that stage were were into the hottest part of the day.  I started to feel a few cramps in my quads, so dropped into a lower gear and started to spin the legs a bit more.

Only the run to go.  Darren had warned about how tough the run was last year, as did everyone we’d spoken to who’d been there before.  I had a good level of confidence for it though – I’m not a bad runner.  How bad can it be?

How wrong I was…

Finished the bike in 2.53, so slower than I wanted, but still very, very pleased with that, given the conditions.

Tune in for the next exciting instalment…

One day before the race…

When I read about the Hawaii 70.3 last year, and thought about how great it would be to race it, it seemed so far away.  I had lots of time to train and prepare for all the logistics and other challenges.  In between then and now, a lot has happened – I had my accident, which put paid to winter training plans, but I started thinking about triathlon again in February, and began putting in the hours.  Came the early starts, late evenings.  Home from a hard day at work and straight back out the door again to run 12 miles, or swim a couple of kilometers.  Four hours on the bike took the place of Saturday in front of the tv.

After a while, I started remembering what it was I enjoyed about triathlon, and my confidence improved.  I got stronger, and faster, and it all began to come together, but then June the 5th came up on the calendar, and the doubts started to creep in.  What the hell was I thinking of?

Nevertheless, we made it over, and low and behold, here I am – the night before the race.  A bit anxious, but excited as hell.  It’s going to be a hard day, I know that for sure, but nothing that’s worthwhile is easy.  Tomorrow will be a day of ups and downs (literally and figuratively!) but no matter what happens, I worked hard and made it happen.

I’m here and ready to go…

…bring it on!

Fairmont

Today we moved up to the Fairmont Orchid.  I’ve never been in a plusher hotel in my life.  There is marble everywhere.  You walk down a corridor and it suddenly opens up into a fountain, courtyard, or a even an antique 25ft long ceremonial canoe worth as much as my house.  It is stunning.

There are amazing grounds and our room opens onto a private patio on to the grass, with the beach and ocean in the background.  On the downside, it all costs money – drinks, snorkel, internet.  Everything seems to be $15 for some reason.

With all the athletes checking in today, there must be a million quids worth of bikes here, and a collection of the fittest looking people I’ve ever seen.  Went through registration and collected my transition bags, timing chip etc.

Looks like there’s no backing out now!

Early start tomorrow, so off to bed (20:45) – yawn.

Last of the prep

So these past few mornings, have been up at 6 for a swim in the Pacific.  Saying it’s completely different to what I’m used to is a bit of an understatement, but I’m actually quite liking it.

First thing in the morning, out in the warm ocean, with tropical fish all around.  How bad could it be.  Since Darren arrived yesterday, he’s been giving me a few pointers to sharpen up my swim, so I’m getting a bit more confidence.  Did about a mile this morning we think.  Not going to be breaking any records, but as long as I get though it in good shape, I’ll be happy.

Went for another light spinner on the bike yesterday evening as well.  Nice and easy, just to keep the legs ticking over, and keep Evo happy, as he doesn’t like being cooped up for too long.  All running well.

Jamie and Gemma arrived yesterday too, so we went with them up to the Fairmont Orchid where we’re going to be staying from Thursday.  Talk about luxury!  This place is super-duper mega splendid.  Proper five-star luxury (not the band).

We’ve had another productive day today – swim in the morning, breakfast by the beach, then over to pick up our wedding license.  Important one that!  I booked in for a sports massage, which was just the ticket.  The lady works at the Ironman world championships here, and she had a few good stories – like the one where some bloke had a six pack of beer in his transition bag, and stopped off in T2 to get a few down him.  Interesting strategy…

Ana’s just been out diving and seen a turtle, which was her whole reason for wanting to try it, so excitement levels are high

Off out for some food and pick up a few things.  Tomorrow we move to the Fairmont and race registration begins.

Hills, hills and more hills

Did a bike course recce last evening.  All the way up the Queen K, then onto the 270 up to Hawi (pronounced Haa-vi).  We started driving from where we’re staying at Kailua-Kona, and within a few miles, you’d think you’d made it to the moon.  Seriously – all this black volcanic rock is mental…and it makes things very hot.  The rock reflects the heat like glass – and I’ve got to ride through 60 miles of this stuff.

We headed up the 270 and then the hills started.  1/2 mile flat (ish), then another hill.  Then another, then another.  O dear.  Hills all the way up to Hawii, through lava fields.  What the hell have I let myself in for?

The cone arrives

Went to the airport last night to pick up my mate Darren, otherwise known as Conehead, due to his highly reflective napper.

Darren wrote a book a few years ago, and it was one of the first books I read when I was getting into triathlon.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/How-Triathlon-Ruined-My-Life/dp/1844264696

It’s about going from nothing to Ironman in 6 months, and is bloody hilarious and well worth a read, even if you’re not into the sport.  If anybody’s interested, I’ll get a couple of signed copies, although that’ll probably just de-value them.

Now someone else has arrived, I’ll have to get on with doing a bit of training.  Race day is getting closer… (ohmegad ohmegad)

Our other parter in crime, Jamie (McClelland, coincidentally) and his missus Gemma are arriving today (Tuesday).  Go team!