Epilogue

This is only a simulation... Shall I do it???

So this is it, this will probably be one of the lasts post of this blog! I plan to print it out as a book to remind me of this slightly crazy time in my life. And, who knows, it might even be useful to me when (and if) I do my next Ironman in the year 2022.

The journey back was nothing like as much of a nightmare as I was expecting. I recovered so quickly from Sunday's exertions that I even started to torture myself by thinking that I could have pushed myself harder. Then I remembered that the onset of cramps in my legs made it very clear to me that it would have been a very bad idea. The b*stard baggage handlers broke both quick release skewers this time, shearing one of them in two and bending the other one. They also managed to break some bits of the bike case. I guess they must have been fed up with lugging 1,800 bikes (x2) over the course of a week. Perhaps the organizers could give them a tip or something, so that next year they are a bit more respectful. I did notice that those going direct from Sao Paolo simply put their bike through with no case - if anything a bit of bubble wrap - and these came out immaculate at the other end. My bike and suitcase arrived in Madrid but, curiously enough, Iberia managed to lose my wife's suitcase in London.

Going back to work the next day was tough - it felt like I had never been away - but my colleagues were very congratulatory about my result and was stopped so many times that I arrived late to all my meetings. Some people prefer their colleagues not to know that they are participating in Ironman competitions because the amount of time they spend training can be misconstrued. However, the head of Human Resources of the company I work for, José Luis Alciturri, appeared on the news this week, announcing he was taking part in a Half Ironman. Considering that he is responsible for 180,000 employees and he is 60 years old, that is pretty damn impressive. He has already done the Maraton des Sables, so it should be "chupado" for him.

I told you my arms were getting bigger from all this swimming

My back was still aching from the bike position and the economy class seats and I had had to take some anti-inflammatories to tide me through the night. On Thursday, I got some very good news - my nephew Erdem Ali Smith was born after 24 hours of labour (what's that, a triple Ironman?).

Anyway, in case you are curious, here are the official results:

The line I took on the swim wasn't as bad as it felt at the time, but you can see the effect of the current (as well as the point where I crashed head-on into a fellow competitor).

Incredibly, it took about 20 kilometers on the bike for my heart to settle down after the swim. I wonder if this is normal. Other than that, the bike was pretty steady

but you can distinctly see the fade on the run with about 19 kilometers to go. It wasn't a "wall" exactly but, as I described in my race report, I just started going more and more slowly for what was the same perceived effort (and perceived speed for that matter). As you can see, my heart rate went down correspondingly, so the limiting factor was not cardiovascular but fatigue.

This is the route we took (with lot's of loops that you can't see). The gap near the bottom left is the tunnel we went through 8 times.

Thanks for following me along my journey. Next stop: let's see if I can break 3 hours in the Marathon...

Some photos...

I've circled myself in red

 

My position on the bike wasn't bad, all things considered

Amazingly, they managed to identify me from this photo

I'm holding Neil's photo

The race

I started to get nervous just before the bike check in, which was (for me) between 7 and 8pm - a bit on the late side, considering I still had to have dinner and be up by 4am the next day. Apparently they were not letting people check in before their strictly allotted time. The check in made me realize the scale of this thing. You feel like a celebrity with so many people fussing over you. One guy had the job of asking everyone which brand of shoes they ran in. I was proud to be the only one to run in Pumas. It passed in such a whirlwind that I couldn't help having the feeling that I had forgotten something. Suddenly I was overcome by an irrational fear that my protein powders, the sachets of which I had already cut open and left on the bike, would absorb the morning dew and become an unworkable sticky mess.

Just think how much money is sitting here

Incredibly I went straight to sleep at 9pm and woke only once during the night, at 3:57am, three minutes before my alarm.

Carlos and I went down to the bikes to pump up the tires. Both of us were using disc wheels (well, mine is a disc cover really) and, to cover up the hole they have allowing pump access, we used a couple of "Invizimals" stickers that the kids had been collecting and who I had asked to choose some cool ones for good luck. My brain was still asleep at this point and, somehow, I managed to lose one of my cereal bars while I was filling up my water bottles. We then went back to the house that Carlos was renting which was when I realized that I no longer had my goggles or my numbered swim cap. It was now 6:30 - only half an hour before the start. I felt like I had shit for brains, literally. Luckily Carlos had a spare pair of goggles and a cap from a previous Ironman.

Did someone nick my goggles and swim cap?

Once we got to the start we made a beeline for the nearest race official who turned out to be the sourest grumpy old bat of all the volunteers I came across. She gave me a white, unnumbered cap and impatiently snatched the one Carlos had lent me out of my hand while I tried to explain that I wanted to give it him back. After a comical scene of us both stretching the cap in a tug-of-war, I eventually won and handed it to Cassia, Carlos' wife. There we said our final goodbyes and I could see tears in the eyes of Cassia's Mother's boyfriend (the whole of her family came to support us) and it made me get emotional. It was the only time that I really got emotional in the whole race. The view of 2,000 athletes in red caps with the sun rising up over the sea was really quite spectacular.

I went to the front of the pack to try to get into the water and get used to the temperature. People were eyeing me up, clearly thinking "Who is this guy?". It was only later that I found out that the white cap I was wearing was for the professionals. You'll be able to spot me easily on the photos because I'll be the only "pro" taking the long way round.

The start was less fraught than I expected it would be and I quickly found my own space. It was impossible to sight the first red buoy - with the waves, if it came in to view it was indistinguishable (for me) from the red caps of swimmers stopping to check their line. Instead I choose someone who looked like they knew what they were doing and tried to follow them. Trouble is, anyone slow enough to swim at the speed I go at most likely doesn't know where they are going either. Before long I was all alone and wondering if I was last or lost. At the buoy I was relived to see that I wasn't so far behind as I came back into contact briefly with a number of other athletes who were bunching up at the first turn.

The course is basically the M of the "M dot" Ironman logo (just as well they leave out the dot). The diagonal stretch takes you back to the beach where you get out briefly and realize how tired you are. It was on this leg of the swim that I managed to have a full frontal collision with another swimmer who was starting the second half of the swim and who had similar navigational skills to me.

Getting back into the water for the second half was much harder than it looked; by now there were some of the biggest waves I'd seen since we got here. I got knocked off my feet several times but managed to hang on to my (I should say, Carlos') goggles.

My Garmin beeped for the fourth time, telling me I'd already swum 4,000 meters of the 3,800 - in total it reckoned my swim was 4,500 meters. Eventually I got to a point where I could put my feet down but the waves kept picking me up and shoving me in the direction of some nasty looking rocks. I finished the swim in 1:15, almost to the second what I had predicted to myself.

One nice thing about an Ironman event is that there are volunteers to help you off with your wetsuit: you just lie down and they pull (I accidentally kicked one of them in the face - it's not a maneuver that I had practiced in training). I wobbled off to where my bike was racked.

If the swim is a warmup for the bike, the bike is the prelude to the run. The idea is to start the run with as fresh legs as possible. My ride didn't get off to a very smooth start. I couldn't shift up to the big ring and when I shifted back down, the chain came off completely. I dismounted, put the chain on the big ring and started off again. I was able to adjust the gears on the go and they didn't give me any more problems. This was when I realized that I had forgotten to put on my race number. Thankfully, the umpires were not anal about applying the rules (unlike the sprint triathlon when I got fined 2 whole minutes for approaching my bike from the wrong side of the rack). I must have left it in the bike transition bag. I spent many kilometers fretting over whether I would be able to get it during the transition to running or whether I would have to ask my wife to get my spare number from the hotel.

I wish I could say that it was an emotional experience but the reality is that the overriding emotion was one of boredom. Something my eldest son, Luca, had taken to saying lately got fixed in my head "Daddy, I'm just bored". I entertained myself for a while looking at other people's bikes and tattoos and deciding which of each I would get. In Brazil there is no middle class so everyone was riding super duper aerodynamic triathlon bikes, even if it was in a sit-up-and-beg style. Sometimes I would look at the scenery or watch kids (from the other end of the socioeconomic scale) collecting the water bottles we were throwing from the bikes. I saw a couple of billboards along the way - one was an advert for Ironman II (sorry, but there will only be one Ironman and this is it) and another was a sign saying "Men at work" which seemed equally relevant.

I think I was pretty well behaved on the bike: despite the temptation to go faster to get this thing over with sooner, once my heart had settled down after the swim I kept it at around 135 bpm as agreed with Jonathan. I made an exception when overtaking in the narrow stretches and when riding up hill (allowing a maximum of 143 bpm) or into the wind. More than anything else, the sensations were good - my breathing was not noticeably more laboured than at rest and my legs felt fresh, not stressed as they had been in Lisbon. My back started to ache, though, after more than 5 hours hunched over in the aero position. I actually looked forward to the hills as a respite from the flats.

My favourite bit of the course was going through a tunnel (which we went through no less than 8 times). Here we were sheltered from the wind and I was on an even playing field with those in a more aero position. According to the Garmin, I clocked an impressive 60 kph but this may be due to losing GPS signal half way through. It may also account for the 4 extra kilometers of the bike course that the Garmin claimed. Maybe someone who rode with a wheel based speedometer can confirm this...

The only time I spoke to someone on the bike was when a Brazilian turned to me to comment on the strong headwind. I told him that at least he had a nice view. I suppose it must seem very chauvinistic and pathetic, but when you are suffering like this, it is refreshing to see a girl ahead pedaling in a skimpy pair of bikini bottoms.

My family was diligently waiting for me in Jurere both times and I waved frantically to them as I passed and tried to smile and look like I was at least enjoying myself. I measured out my time counting how long it would be until I saw them the next time. The bike took 5:30, again, more or less as I had envisioned (give or take the extra 4 km).

In the transition tent I was able to recover my race number, so that was one less thing to worry about. I started the run well. I ran at around 150 bpm, well under my "budget" of 160 bpm. Even so, this felt hard enough and translated into a good speed of around 12.5 - 13 kph. At this rate I would do a good time and, more importantly, it would be over sooner.

I started to wish that I had made a toilet stop in the transition area. Then I saw some portaloos and thought that I would hang on until the next ones but, suddenly I felt an "apretón" and I virtually had to sprint to the cabin. Wow, I felt so much better after that. By the way, there was plenty of toilet paper in case you were wondering.

There were a couple of ridiculous hills on the course that you were a fool to climb doing anything but walking. After about 13 kms, I suddenly remembered Pablo's pledge, to sponsor me an extra euro for each kilometer run at 12 kph (5 minutes per km) or faster. Apart from the hills I already had at least 10 under my belt and now I was motivated to bank the rest. I saw my family at the Half Marathon point and smiled at them and blew them kisses - I was going well and continually passing shuffling people who had overdone the bike. I must have looked so good that the race officials insisted on sending me on the third loop before I had even done the second - either that or, what is more likely is that they mistook my white sleeves for the hair bands they gave out on completion of each loop.

At some point the kilometer splits suddenly took a turn for the worse and - even though I felt like I was running just as hard and fast as before - I was now taking 5:30 to cover one kilometer. Never mind, I thought, I'll still get a good time at this pace. This is the thing about the Ironman, you start with some dreams and aspirations and you spend the rest of the day revising them, in my case, downwards.

I don't believe in God or Heaven, but I started talking to Neil, dedicating kilometers to him and apologizing for them being slow ones. 5:30 soon became 6:00 and 6:00 became 6:20 per kilometer. It was clear: now it was a question of finishing. I tried pushing a little - my pulse was lower than ever - but the twinges of cramps warned me off (in spite of the 20 salt tablets I had swallowed). I had been carefully pacing myself all the race, waiting for the moment to really grit my teeth and so it was frustrating not to be able to dig deeper, to feel as though I was pushing myself as hard as I could go (even though the incipient cramps assured me that it was indeed the case). My stomach also started to protest and I swallowed down very little of the (now) sickly warm gels that I had picked up for the second half of the Marathon in the Special Needs stop.

The organization of the event was impeccable and the island really lives the whole Ironman experience so I was really surprised how little the crowds cheered. In Madrid, there is more support in a local 10k race. Of course, 8-17 hours is a long time to be clapping. As this was Brazil I expected a Samba or Batucada band but there was no music. Still, I've learned something about why I race. It's the same reason why I love deejaying: I get a real kick out of the crowd and I thrive off the positive feedback loop. What was excellent, though, were the food and water stops that were scattered every couple of kilometers along the run course. I would drink either coke, water or both at every stop and throw an ice cold cup of water over my head and down my back.

One kilometer to go. Now I felt I could let myself enjoy it. I repeated to myself "I'm going to be a f***ing Ironman! I'm going to be a f***ing Ironman!". I took out the little photo I had of Neil, climbing a steep hill on his bike in readiness to hold it up for the finisher's photo. There was my family! The boys ran with me to the line and I had done it, I had f***ing done it. Unbeknownst to me at the time, about 10,000 kilometers away, a group of Neil's deejay friends were celebrating his life at a nightclub in Gateshead, playing out all his favourite and highly sought after tunes.

The medal is the coolest medal I have ever seen

Now it was time to try to repair the damage I had done to my body. My pee was brown which means that my body had started to break down muscle fibers to feed off the proteins they contained. If you want to get a six pack in a single day, then do an Ironman - I looked like an escaped prisoner of war:

I may not look it, but I am pleased

Carlos came to find me in the survivor's - I mean finishers - tent. He had broken the ten hour barrier (last year he was off by 23 seconds)! My other friends also did well - Christian did a jaw dropping 9:12 and will almost certainly be selected for the World Championships in Kona, Hawaii and Michel did 13 and a half hours. A long but good day.

Thanks...

...to my wife and kids (not to mention my boss) for putting up with all my hours of training and occasional frequent bad moods
...to Jonathan for designing a brilliant training program, for the moral support these last three years and for helping me go from being a boom bust runner to a steadily improving triathlete
...to Carlos and Cassia for the support both logistically and emotionally

(and in no particular order)

...to Mario Pessini for putting me in touch with Jonathan in the first place

...to Luis Gutiérez for helping me acquire a reasonable swimming technique
...to Simon and Sonia for looking after the kids on a critical weekend when I had 11 and a half hours of training to do and my wife was away in Africa
...to the tri4life crowd José Juan, Lola, Inés, Ferrán, Nacho, Silvia, Ricardo, Alberto, Alex, Eloy, Ana, Quique, Pedro, etc., for the company on the few long rides I didn't do alone (and for putting this crazy idea in my head in the first place)
...to Diego from la Universidad de Europa for patiently doing all the physiological tests on me
...to Paloma for sorting out my back as well as various other problems along the way
...to Fernando and Marta from A Manos Fisios for helping me out with my shoulder
...to Juan Gutiérez and Manolo and other (anonymous) cyclists who have helped me fix punctures and get on my way again
...to Emilio for his sound advice (Santías, not Botín)
...to my work colleagues (John, Juan Porras, ...) for giving me a lift home on the days when I ran in but didn't have (or want) to run back
...to the guys (Marcos, Paloma II, ...) in the work gym for letting me use their locker to hang up my spare suit and for turning a blind eye every time I took two towels instead of one
...to Victor for letting me park my bike (and hang my sweaty kit out to dry) at the back of his parking space
...to Santander for being a company which puts value on exercise and being healthy
...to the folks at Zermatt bikes in Pozuelo for "tuning" my bike and to the guys at Chousa, also in Pozuelo, for indexing my gears to perfection
...to Angel Pérez for helping me choose my bike in the first place
...to my fellow triathletes at Aguaverde for helping me get started in triathlon
...to my non-triathlon friends who I have been neglecting
...to all those who have been following my journey and especially those that have left comments on this blog
...to everyone who has sponsored me on behalf of the British Heart Foundation
...to the Suddes Family for allowing me to do this in Neil's memory
...to Neil Suddes for being an inspiration in my life

To become an Ironman may be a solitary pursuit but it is one that is impossible to do alone.

Mission completed

I am an Ironman! I did a time of 10:45 in the end. Full report to follow soon...

Floripa part II

The whole island has gone Ironman crazy. It's virtually impossible to find someone who is not wearing the yellow wristband



and even the waiters and waitresses are all wearing t-shirts with the M-dot logo or some reference to triathlon. At a time of year that would otherwise be off season, the islanders are happy for the business that the Ironman brings and it shows in their hospitality and enthusiasm. I can imagine that Kona is like this, only more intense.

As it is winter here, it gets dark really early. In fact, if I want a finisher's photo without flash, I am going to have to finish in less than 10:15! The advantage is that it has been really easy for the whole family to go to bed at around 9pm and get up at 6am, so an early start at 4am shouldn't be a problem - maybe the family will accompany me to the start after all.

The last of my pre-Ironman duties is to do the bike check-in. I have been assigned the last slot of the day - 7pm to 8pm - which is a bit on the late side, so I'm going to try my luck at squeezing in to an earlier slot. I want to be already sitting down to dinner at 7pm. At the check-in, I have to present not only the bike but the transition bags which must contain everything I will need for going from the swim to the bike and from the bike to the run. I won't have access to these tomorrow before the race so I'd better not forget anything! I don't think I will bother with the "special needs" bag for the bike but, in the special needs bag which you get handed at the half-way point in the run, I'll put some spare salt caps and two small bottles of isogels.

Yesterday we watched the DVD of the race from 2010. It may be a predominantly flat course but the hills that there are are real hills, with a gradient of about 20%. I'll just have to keep an eye on my pulse and walk up them if necessary.

I've been trying very hard not to spend too much time, energy or money in the expo. Luckily everything is at least twice as expensive as back home otherwise I might have fallen foul of the temptation to by a cool 3 or 4 spoke aero wheel (shaving a whopping 30 seconds from my time no doubt) or worse. While I was waiting for the official store to open, I asked someone standing next to me in Portuñol if he knew when they would open; he said "Hey, you're Rob, right? From Rust to Ironman!". It was Christian, who I had yet to meet, the one who took us to my fundraising target of 3,000 pounds.

By the time I next post, I will be an Ironman!! By the way, this is the tattoo that won my tattoo design contest - I think it is great but now I just have to see whether I have the balls to actually have it inked...

Floripa

We spent the day lounging by the beach, trying not to get sunburnt. It's one of those beaches that is so perfect it seems as though it has been manufactured for Disneyland - the sand is so fine it actually squeaks under your feet. We had lunch with Carlos and his extended family in a Picanharia where you eat what you like and pay what you weigh (the food, that is).

Of course, the very first thing I did on arriving to the pousada was put the bike back together. The idiotic baggage handlers hadn't been so careful after all and had bent the quick release skewer of the front wheel. Just as well that I had used a couple of spare skewers for exactly that reason.


It was time to try out the bike and it seemed fine except that it wouldn't shift up to the big ring. I took it to Kona Bikes at the Expo and it turned out that it had taken a little knock after all. They noticed that the small ring had actually been installed backwards!!! That explains why it was sometimes slow to catch on when shifting down.

If the muscles on the transit bus were intimidating this was nothing compared to the pure sex of the bikes blatantly on display. I think mine is the only non-triathlon specific bike of the lot! Although it is a damn good one at that.

It's hard to put my finger on but there is something about this event, the organization, that just puts it on a different level from anything else I have ever done. Maybe it's just that everything is so damned expensive! No, it's more than that, this is The Ironman. Everything is branded, down to the various plastic bags you fill before the event with the things you will need at the transitions and at the "special needs" stops along the bike and run courses.

It seems like everyone on the island is competing - every hotel room has a bike poking out of it, people are running and cycling up and down the main drag, others are wandering about in wetsuits. It's a shame that the roads are not better quality - I can just envisage my water bottles being ejected on every bump. Also, it doesn't look as though it is quite such a flat course after all - the map is very misleading - but at least it's the same for everyone.