2 years later
This was a long time coming. Photo credit: Sportograf
What just happened?!
Long absence typically means one thing - being challenged.
In this case there was a lot of that, but also a choice to stay a bit more quiet this time around. I just felt like it to begin with, then things went wrong and I even came to a point when I felt like dropping this blog altogether. ‘What’s the point?’
Yet, here is the point, as cliché as it sounds: if you persist, things WILL fall into place. And that’s not easy to see at all when you’re in the thick of it, you tend to think that even this does not apply to you, just you, are the only exception to this rule - a very lonely place to be. You just have to put your head down and keep going, because you’ve invested so much so, if it’s not ‘terminal’ (whatever that means), quitting is not an option.
And then…
‘Smile, don’t cry’, the commentator said, ‘because YOU ARE AN IRONMAN’
2 years later… since I first prepared for this distance and did not get to race, I finally had the race of my life. In the time I hoped for in my wildest dreams, feeling in absolute control the whole way and finishing strong. Exactly the way I wanted and secretly knew I could (I say that now!).
The universe and I can be friends again!
As an engineer, I try to make sense out of everything, and need to have evidence to believe in something. This can get you a long way in life, but sometimes you simply have to believe without the evidence being there, or simply learn to trust those who know better than you. In my case, my physio, my sports doctor, but above all, my AMAZING coach who was the enabling force for this success.
Rewind
So why do I say this? Let’s take things from the beginning, at the tail end of this winter’s training where I’d left it in my last post.
Things were going really well, the running volume was very gradually increasing, together with my confidence. I was running on trails, taking on hills, up and down, firm in my step and slowly but surely shedding that feeling that I will break. Swim and bike also ticking along nicely, with enjoyable sessions that kept me interested in the dark winter days on the turbo.
At the same time finishing off the new house renovation kept dragging on and on, postponing the upcoming move, week by week until beginning of March when we actually moved. And just as training volume was going up, here I was in a new location, not knowing the area and having to find places to do my sessions, often ending up lost or compromising for the wrong terrain. With the renovation works ongoing after the move, not being able to settle in the new house properly, work being busy (including business travel), I found myself being as challenged as I ever have while trying to do this sport. Up until then I thought the saying ‘life gets in the way’ did not apply to me; I had everything under control, mostly. I had certainly taken for granted the factors that contributed to that, which all went out of the window due to the move and so all of a sudden I was barely floating… and yet I was getting it done.
The planned holiday and training camp in Mallorca at the end of April kept me going, ‘just make it till then’! And so I did, and we had the best time once again on that magic island. This time around I was able to run and enjoy it in yet another way and get to discover it and love it even more.
Once again, training with Scientific Triathlon was a blast, I felt very strong and exceeded myself in various sessions. A two-hour long run and a couple of brick sessions when practicing Ironman race pace felt like flying! It left me thinking: ‘can we please get to the race already?’ It was a very exciting feeling.
Yet my wise coach had me drop it all back down to avoid peaking at the wrong time, we took some recovery until we picked it up again with 6 weeks to go until D-day. Training hit me hard at that point! And UK weather did not help at all… fresh back from the mallorcan sun, it was so grim and cold here, my body was feeling confused and under attack! That first ride on the TT bike outside… apart form the rain and the cold, the discomfort after so much cycling on the road bike was a reality check. How on earth was I going to race 180km on the TT? Why is my power so low all of a sudden? Why is everything so uncomfortable?!
The last bit of the training puzzle was muscular endurance in TT position at that point, so I got specific instructions to execute certain turbo sessions in TT position, even if the power had to drop. I must admit the first ones were so deeply uncomfortable, I felt like a hero completing them and not bailing. I put my head down and pushed through, one by one until things started to shift. At about three ours in the next TT ride outside, I remember the moment when my TT legs finally ‘showed up’. All of a sudden I could remember why I love that bike and riding strong and fast on it. Phew! We were finally in business!
Running was getting to the best I’ve ever experienced. Challenging build runs of long duration, feeling good and seeing the progress.
Overall the training was becoming actually hard and a proper mental challenge. Which is exactly what I seek in preparation for this distance - the challenge. Isn’t that what Ironman is all about…?
And just as I was getting to the other side, building momentum and feeling the pull of the race coming closer, getting in the shape of my life… ‘This tightness in my calf I’ve been feeling for a while does not seem to go away, hmmm… One more run, maybe it will go away... Oh it’s kind of shifting to the shin now - oh maybe I should get this checked?’
And check I did and, long story short - within four days of seeing the physio I had an MRI result of a ‘mild, grade 1 stress response’ on my tibia. Date: 13th May, 2024. Less than 5 weeks out!
I was instructed to take two weeks off running and then build gradually. Basically that meant I would lose the peak of the training. Even though I was told that in theory I should be able to do the race, I had to embrace the uncertainty that naturally came with this situation. ‘Fortunately’ I have been through this process too many times - I just didn’t think I would be once again in this position. It could be useful to summarise the stages:
Jump into action to get diagnosis as quickly as possible and gather information
Create the best conditions for the quickest possible recovery through rest, nutrition, keeping stress levels down and doing the rehab
Grieve the loss but find acceptance. Because even if there was hope for the race, there was loss. Part of what motivates us is our progress and the momentum we gain while pushing through as I described earlier. This would all be gone now.
‘Pivot’ by shifting the focus to what you can do to make the most out of the situation - in coach Libs’s words, time to become an ‘uber biker’ so we can run as comfortably as possible on the day. Nail the nutrition. Study the details.
Navigate the decision-making with only one thing in mind: get to the start line healthy.
At first I was quite positive - the hard work we had done on the run was fresh in my memory so I had a strong feeling it can’t be taken away. Then I caught the injury early, and being a bone one, recovery should be straight-forward by respecting the recovery time.
I took 17 days off running, to be conservative. I focused on the bike and the progress I was making. I took it to the gym and the cross trainer to maintain some memory of running in the muscles. God these sessions were awful!
Then came the ‘back to running’ part. I had a bit over three weeks left to race day. My shin was feeling completely fine so I was hopeful we could get back to taking impact and build some confidence before the race. I knew there was not going to be any long runs or anything heroic at that point, even if I felt fine. Which I didn’t. My brain was protecting the area and made my calf so tight I was struggling to run properly. As if I had forgotten how to do it. Some runs were good, and some just terrible. A proper roller coaster. Through that brief learning curve I realised that it was all about getting my achilles active and springy for my calf to function, and that mainly happened through isometric work pre-run. That’s all I had.
Race week came around quickly and I had a choice to make. I would either dread everything and be in it half-heartedly, because i could not let myself get excited ‘just in case I could not finish’ or just go with it and enjoy myself anyway. I chose the latter. Also for the sake of the people I was with… who would want to be around me if I’m so grim? I owed this to them, at least.
The longest run I managed before the race (after the injury) was 8km. I had done 25km a couple of times in the build prior. The longest run I had ever done in my life was 30km in the previous build two years ago. Good luck to me running my first marathon after 7 hours of swimming and cycling! Talk about a leap of faith…
The race
We arrived in Klagenfurt, Austria on the Wednesday, with plenty of time to get ready. I was with three other club mates, all first-timers on the distance and we had a great vibe going on between us. I really enjoyed those days leading to the race.
The weather was cold the first couple of days and the forecast uncertain with rain and temperature in the low 20s, humid.
I was calm in my mind. My body was going through various phases as it knew what was coming. I had some good sleep days and some terrible. the night before the race I slept really well. We woke up to pouring rain which thankfully stopped by the time we got to transition.
At around 6:30 here we were, at the swim start. The moment I’ve been dreaming of, to make it there and get a shot at this crazy undertake! I was looking forward to taking my first steps on the run and know what this day was all about for me. But in the meantime, I had 3.8k to swim and 180km to cycle!
The swim was in the beautiful turquoise waters of lake Wörthersee at a pleasant temperature of 19.5degrees. I picked the end of the first wave (sub-1hr) for my start which was a good choice as I felt I swam with people of similar ability for the majority. At times there was the usual chaos of fighting for space that thankfully doesn’t affect me anymore and at times I was in no man’s land. The novel thing here was the final 1km in the canal leading to transition. Albeit fun with the people cheering along (I actually saw Ale and he was walking parallel to me swimming, very special!), it ended up being quite claustrophobic as it was narrow and full of people with many not swimming straight and the fight for space a bit more intense. Until it was finally over and this is always a relief which I carried with me many kilometers into the bike, I kept thinking ‘at least the swim is over'!’. There is simply something about waking up early in the morning and throwing yourself into a body of water…
Anyhow I did enjoy it, I think I swam well and mindful of technique and efficiency and was not too unhappy with a 1:03 time. After all the fight for space in the canal took away any judgement of performance or exact pacing as such.
Transition was smooth, nothing of note to report. Once again the wetsuit seemed to come out fine unlike any practice sessions I had done, the magic of the adrenaline I suppose! Probably I’ll have to go back to it now and check for tears to repair!
No flying mount this time! I granted that permission to myself for an Ironman. I still attached my shoes to the bike but just mounted normally. And off I went, to a very long ride!
The course consisted of two 90km loops and each one consisted of a big and a small loop. It was a course that was easy to breakdown into bits and I had it in my mind as follows: 20km out by the lake, small loop, hilly part of big loop, fast back to town. Times two!
The first part is quite fast although it did require focus on some turns and had some small hills to keep us interested. I was excited but my legs did not feel great to begin with. If I had learnt one thing form my long training rides was to have absolutely no judgement as they were that long that something always changed. I mostly never felt good at the start of a long ride but it had always got better. The one time I started well, I got excited and then had a massive low before feeling good again. In all cases I had finished the rides strong so that gave me a lot of confidence, I just knew I had to be patient.
Eating and drinking was the main task, especially after the swim. After the mistake I made in Greece last October, I knew well to take it seriously. Sometime you don’t appreciate the repercussions of the tiniest mistake unless you have actually experienced it; in this case my muscles literally not functioning after missing an aid station and ruining my race. I certainly didn’t think much of it at the time but I was not going to take any such risks today! And soon enough I got my chance to prove it…
I was planning to refill my electrolyte bottle at the 53km aid station. Electrolyte bottles were handed right after water so when I got the the first volunteer under the ‘electrolytes’ sign, who was a 10-year old kid, I asked if this was electrolytes and he said ‘yes’. So I took the bottle, filled up my front compartment and off I went, only to realise this was plain water only minutes later. F*ck!
I knew I didn’t have enough salt pills to ‘afford’ drinking even one bottle of plain water. I simply relied on those electrolytes without back up. I also knew that to rectify this I’d have to empty the front compartment which definitely involved stopping and dismounting it. I fiddled with it a bit to see if I could do in motion but it was too risky. It was tempting to think that my electrolyte plan was conservative and that ‘the intensity was not that high anyway’, maybe I could get away with it? Soon enough I reminded myself of the number one resolution I had for an Ironman race: ‘to make the right decisions to have a strong, final 10K run’. As soon as this popped in my head, the decision was made. This is exactly what this was about. I didn’t want to look back at this moment and point it out as a mistake that gave me cramps on the run. I looked at my aid station notes, and decided I would stop at the next one, empty the bottle and refill with the right stuff.
It was harder that I thought (fiddling with small parts is not easy when you’re in the rush of a race) but I was mindful of that moment, thought ‘go slow to go fast’, just like in transition, and got it done. I had two sweet kids trying to help me with a little girl noticing I dropped the strap that held the bottle and passing it to me. ‘Danke shoen! You are amazing!’ I shouted as I left and thought to myself ‘OK, we’re back in business, let that go, a couple of minutes is nothing compared to a strong run’. Now I had to adapt my plan of which aid stations I would stop at but thankfully my brain was not too foggy by that point!
One of my biggest concerns after my last race in Greece was the drafting. These races seem simply too crowded at times (but also people knowingly misbehave of course) and for us women it takes disproportionate power to overtake a train of men and get to the front without wasting our legs in the process. I have tried all approaches and it had always spoiled my race. Luckily, it didn’t feel that crowded, with the exception of some areas. People who overtook me were mostly strong enough to pull away without me having to slow down to maintain legal distance. And when that was the case, I took it as little rest for the legs and got going again. Last but not least, I observed a decent amount of motorbikes policing and actually handing over penalties. This gave me a feeling of fairness which helped.
I kept eating up the kilometers, piece by piece as I had planned. The weather kept changing from downpours to sunny spells that, if they got you on a climb, the TT helmet would feel too hot all of a sudden. I even had to pour water in from down under it at some point, only to get cold with rain in the next downhill. I looked around at the wonderful landscape and felt grateful to be doing this. Even the legs showed up after 45km so I was rolling along nicely, following my power plan. Certainly the climbs which had felt easy on the recce we did a few days before did not feel easy during the race. Essentially this course had very few bits when you could stop pedaling so it was relentless. The fast bits were amazing but most of the time you could keep pedaling to go faster so rest was minimal.
I was looking forward to seeing Ale at the 90km turn but I didn’t, there were too many people. I decided to think of him seeing me and being there, hopefully understanding I was feeling good. One lap to go and time was looking ahead of my optimistic target despite the pit stop so I got encourage by the fact that I was likely riding fast, as the power looked like the lower end of the range. Not a bad place to be!
This time around the kilometer markers were the high ones, this gave me a lot of encouragement. (It’s really bad when you are 10km in and seeing the 100km mark on a two-loop course).
Around 110km in, I was finding myself coming out of TT position for ‘no reason’ more and more. What was wrong? Well on examination, it seemed that my bladder was simply too full and was getting compressed. This was too soon… I’ve had that need come up in long rides and was always able to endure it for a couple of hours without issues so I had a ‘no toilet’ strategy on the bike, I planned to wait until transition. I tried to get myself back on TT and suck it up. Impossible! With all the cold and the rain this was simply too intense a need! I dwelled for a bit on what I was going to do and really did not fancy a loo stop at an aid station, losing so much time. I remembered reading funny lists online about the ‘things that triathletes do’ and right up there was the wee on the bike. ‘Then you’re a serious racer’ I laughed to myself. And just as I was thinking I was not even capable of doing it, here I was in a lovely decent with no one behind me… I’ll be brutally honest here but this was probably the best moment of the race after the finish line! The amount of relief was beyond any other I’ve had in my life! I smiled, rewarded myself with a carb chew that I enjoyed and carried on comfortably now, only aiming for every single paddle ahead of me until I was convinced I was washed off! I was certainly very grateful for the next downpour! Totally gross but I was totally pleased with myself, honestly I felt I had leveled up!
Then there was this moment, around 120km in when I was literally flowing, ad thought to myself that this is the first time I am crossing into this distance and it is exactly as I imagined it: there comes this point when all discomfort is gone, you’re moulded onto your bike, almost like one, and you’re feeling you can keep going forever. Even if it was still early into the race overall, I felt I was starting to get my answer as to whether I like this distance or not.
I don’t remember much else apart from the climbs being hard, staying patient and watching the kilometers tick away as we went form downpour to sunshine and so on. Oh and I did drop an aero bottle at some point and yes I stopped to take it, true to my strategy of making the right decisions. I enjoyed the cheering on course, people really take the extra mile here… families camped outside their houses, putting on music… I tried to wave back and thank them as much as possible, taking all the positive energy in. The final, fast bit into town was fun and I was starting to think about the run and pulling back on the pedals just a little.
Finishing the bike leg of any race is always such a relief - it means you race has not been destroyed by mechanicals and you haven’t crashed. It’s a win but you know that it’s only getting started! Despite the rough conditions and the two stops, I was happy to be complete it slightly ahead of target in 5:39.
After a trip to the loo (yes, again - may have to revisit my hydration strategy!), I put on my running shoes and I knew I had to let go of my T2 time to give myself the best chance on that run. I had to prepare my calf to fire up so I stood there, under the racking frame and did my isometric holds as well as some legs swings to release my glutes. And then into the moment of truth…
I don’t know that I have too much to say about that run , other than it was the run of my life. From the first kilometer I knew my shin would not be an issue as I was running well. I felt none of that bike I had just completed and that in itself is hard to believe just as I write it. I was focused on taking on all my nutrition, split in 20’ intervals where I’d hold gels and sip on them slowly, drink electrolytes at the aid stations and top up with salt pills. Every 40’ I would reward myself with 10’ of free running without holding anything. I would wait to see Ale and my friends on the course who would always catch my attention first by shouting at me, I was too much in the zone and looking down apparently. I gave myself a pace range of 4:50 to 5:10 per kilometer, but not pushing anything, just staying with whatever felt efficient. If someone overtook me with higher cadence than me, I would mimic their cadence until I picked up a new rhythm just to change things up. The vibe on the course was amazing, especially for a woman as we were very few compared to the men and people were so eager to cheer us ‘Up-up frau!’ they would shout, and then your name as soon as they read it on your bib.
I crossed the half marathon point telling myself I had started half marathons in 70.3s feeling a lot more broken than I was in that moment. So I told myself I was in a better place and just believed it would be ok. It didn’t change the fact that I was diving into the unknown. I had only ran 25km in this build. Prior to that I had only ran 30km two years ago. This thought kept me humble and the words of my friends who had ran marathons kept playing in my head: ‘it all starts at 30km’. ‘Ok then, let’s get to that 30km and see what happens…’ I told myself and stayed patient.
In training and especially in brick runs, this pace would always feel ‘quite slow’ at the beginning, but in longer reps and as fatigue sank in, that comfort would go away quite quickly, making me question how on earth I would sustain it for 3,5 hours… Libs and I had talked about this when we set our racing strategy and agreed to try to hold on to this feeling as long as possible. on the day, instead of slow it felt ‘controlled’ for the majority of the race, certainly until that point. But I had a focus on holding onto it, which kept me going.
And just like that, without pushing anything, I got more and more motivated whenever I was getting a split in my watch that was within my range. Faster or slower, I allowed everything without judgement. And every time I crossed a timing mat I would think of those tracking my race and knew how well they were wishing me, thinking I’m sending them yet another signal that I was running strong and not slowing down.
I was overtaking a lot of people and had a noticeable spring in my step that didn’t look like many others had. In the minor hills around the course, mostly going over or under pedestrian bridges, I had the urge to speed up going downhill and gain speed, as my legs would welcome the change in terrain. I knew all this was good but still wary that the ‘wheels could come off’ at any point now or so people said. I tried to keep this phrase out of my head, I really didn’t like it and was afraid it could become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
One of the best moments of the race was in the last bit in town when they were playing ‘It’s my life’ by Bon Jovi. This lifestyle is quite a choice and in that moment I had all the confirmation why I was choosing it. Just beautiful.
I was in the final 10K. This was it now. Nothing was stopping me. Yes, the legs were heavy and the pace harder to pick up after walking at aid stations. In all honesty the hardest part at that point was to keep taking in the gels. I was disgusted by the sweet taste but I knew I couldn’t stop now, at least this was the only thing I could control. I told myself that this was minor discomfort I could take and just cracked on with the last one.
Last 5K I was tempted to pick up the pace a little. I knew I could but I would be choosing to a. really hurt myself and have to ‘dig’ to finish and b. take a risk while still in the ‘unknown’. What if I was being stupid and then the wheels would come off, so close to the finish line? With these thoughts, being my first Ironman and so close to the finish I decided to play it safe. I was already so pleased with the fact that I was in a position to actually make a choice, this is as good as it could be. Wow, almost wow…
By that point the noise of the finish line was coming closer and closer. What was about to happen?! Before I knew it, I heard my name. Who knows what my face looked like for them to actually say ‘smile, don’t cry, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!’
I took a moment to look up on the screen for my time and when I saw the nice and round 10:30 I could not believe it. My ‘stars aligned’ goal time, wouldn’t even dare to say it out loud before the race as I though I didn’t even know what I was talking about. Not even a minute over, what a gift from this universe that has tortured me so much to get here!
I had done it. It would take a while to sink in… Ale was there waiting for me for a salty hug. WE had done it! Him, together with Libs were the ones that helped me find joy the last few weeks of uncertainty and I truly owned them this amazing experience from start to finish. If left to my own I would be filled with anxiety and dread, clinging on to past stories of failure. I can’t thank them enough!
Special mentions to my fellow teammates at Optima Racing Team that keep me going day in day out for years now, especially the crew from lane 4…
Stuart Anderson not only for all the mentoring and expert advice over the years but also the fueling and hydration plan that gave me so much confidence.
Stevie, Sam and Rhiannon who also had great races. What an honour to have shared this amazing first-time experience, that we will hold forever.
Time to celebrate, rest and recover and if you made it here, thank you so much for reading!
All photo credits to Sportograf.