Antwerp Ironman 70.3
Posted: Tue Aug 04, 2009 12:04 pm
I am not Phil Graves!
I did, however, promise Kevin months ago that when I had done my Half Ironman I would write a report. At the time I said something like "yes - if I get that far ...."
Well I did.
Ironman 70.3, Antwerp
1.2m / 1.9k swim 56m / 90k cycle half marathon
It all seemed a good idea one evening last November when I entered Antwerp Ironman 70.3.
A few days later I began to panic. A friend had recommended a triathlon coach; Brian Welsh of the tantalisingly named “Just Sweat, No Tears”. I visited his website. Pictures of lean people on podiums with union jack cycling tops nearly scared me off (why would he be interested in someone like me?) but I decided an email was easy and anonymous and sent one.
A month later I was on his books. To be fair I think I was less fit than he first realised – but he was ceaselessly encouraging and soon got me doing things I’d never done before. Key to this was joining Clifton Cycle Club.
My first few rides with Clifton were really hard. Anxiety was my main emotion as we met in the square and set off on 60 mile rides every Saturday. The first few times I got home and had to “take to my bed” for a few hours I was so exhausted. I was always last, trying to keep up to draft but being dropped on the slightest incline (Railway Bridge!). I was nurtured by Kevin, who leads the slow group, listening to all his advice, eating all his Mars bars and slowly I began to improve.
What else did I do? I used the Turbo Trainer. I did weights at the gym. Later in the year I did Time Trails and crazy things such as cycling 30 miles to a 10 mile road run and then cycling home again. Common sense dictated that I must be getting fitter – but a “half Ironman”? It still seemed a long way beyond me.
As August 2nd approached I became very anxious. The run dominated my fears. How was I going to run a half marathon after all the rest of it? Visions of me sitting down and crying (yes I have done that in run races before!) or needing the loo 10 times kept appearing in the night. I focused on the fact I knew I could compete the swim and bike, albeit slowly, and accepted that the run would be painful but couldn’t last for ever.
Antwerp was hot the day before. This was a concern but not one I could think about as I found the yacht club to register. I was handed my rucksack and Tshirt and was rather surprised to be asked “white or red wine?” Yes – we were on The Continent and a bottle of wine was mine for the taking!
I did what I could to familiarise myself with the course but races were going on all day so there was a limit to what could be done. I met up with a number of NYPTri Club members and we encouraged and shared fears as one tends to the day before a big race.
My early night was disturbed by …. Torrential rain. Yes. In was raining. Stupidly I had not planned for this as it was not forecast when I left home. Training in Yorkshire should mean rain gives you an advantage over all the Mediterranean types – I told myself. By the time I arrived at registration I was soaked – and that included my cycle shoes. Yuk! Running in wet socks would be fun! Further disaster was round the corner. I changed my goggle lenses for the grey skies – and broke my goggles! I was devastated! What could I do? I bravely approached the queue of triathletes entering transition and said “Excuse me. I have just broken my ….” And burst into tears. Pathetic. An Ironman marshal took me under his lovely Belgian wing and found someone with 2 pairs. I was sorted.
We put on our wetsuits, had a few biscuits, checked that things were as dry as possible (not very) and before we knew it were in our pens waiting for the start. I was lucky to have lots of NYPTri members in my pen (swim waves were determined by age) so we joked, chatted and encouraged. The water was really warm (21 degrees C) and within a minute of entering the water – we were off.
I usually enjoy the swim. I am not a good swimmer – but not a terrible one. Previous swim waves have been determined by sex or predicted swim times. This means I am usually surrounded by girls or weak swimmers. This time I was surrounded by 40 year old monster Ironmen. It was a bit of washing machine! I was soon into my stroke as the animals raced ahead. Unfortunately half way round it all happened again as the strong swimmers in the next swim wave swam over the top of me! I was punched in the eye – not on purpose I’m sure – but despite being shocked and sore for a few seconds I checked my goggles were still there and finished the swim.
It was long run through transition to the bikes but suddenly I felt good. It was, of course, still raining and I struggled to pull on some cycle shorts and socks. I ate a packet of mini chedders (very quickly Brian! I lost no time!) and was off.
I had opted not to put on a long sleeved cycling top as no one else seemed to be but was a bit worried about getting cold. I knew I could be on the bike for 4 hours and it was quite windy. Would I end up in a broom wagon with hypothermia? Within a minute Debs Hassles passed me. She always passes me on the bike – as I am very slightly better than her at swimming. Usually we are an hour into the bike before she passes me, not 2 minutes. Never mind – Go Debs! Go!
We had to cycle under the river by a long tunnel and then it was off to the docks and north towards Holland. On the map I thought it might be a nice cycle along water – but of course in docks you don’t see any water – just warehouses and containers. It was still raining hard – and to be honest it was a but grim. As I turned into a headwind I wondered if this was going to be the breaking of me, but kept spinning as cyclists over took me.
To be fair I quite enjoyed the bike. The out and back twice course meant you kept seeing people you knew – who were all incredibly encouraging. The rains was grim – but let’s face it I’m used to it – and after about an hour it stopped and the sun even started to break through. I “ate instinctively” (advice from Steve Woods) and drank a bottle an hour. As I approached T2 (the 2nd transition area which is the other side of the river from the first) I realised I had stacks of time and was unlikely to be kicked out for being to slow. I began to grin.
In T2 I changed my shoes stuck on a cap and started to run. I felt OK. I had already decided that thinking “I’ve got 13 miles to go” would be fatal. The run course is 3 circuits so I mentally divided it into 3. I decided to run the first circuit without stopping and then see how I felt. I did this, being passed by encouraging NYPTri members every now and then. After one circuit I sat done to smooth out my wet socks (which were wrinkled and giving me blisters) whist necking some water. Every 30 minutes I took a gel. My strategy was “run until it’s time for a gel or to the next feed station”. Lesley Whitehouse overtook me as she was nearing the finish looking great! Gazelle like! I ran on and before I knew it I was on the last lap. I knew I was going to do it and far from being concerned about making it within the 8h30 cut off I started realising I might make it in less than 7 hours. I felt great. And I felt awful! I was over the moon – but my legs were so heavy. I resorted to mind games. Distract yourself! Remember all the words to Bohemian Rhapsody and American Pie (that took up 15 minutes). Pop into a restaurant for the loo (more physical that one!). Only a kilometre to go. More sugary drink and I’m running into the square! Over the line!
I am a God!
7h 05. Hardly great on the wider scheme of things but I had done it and far quicker than I had ever dared hope. I was crying and “high fiving” another woman who had just finished. Hoorah!
It was a long walk back to T2 to get my bike. On the way I thought I was going to faint so sat down and necked a bottle of water. I later found out there was a transfer bus! My legs would have preferred that!
It was a great weekend. I thoroughly recommend it. It has to be the flattest Ironman 70.3 around so is less intimidating than ludicrous races like Wimbleball. Antwerp is a great city. Café culture flourishes in the many beautiful squares and the Belgians were so friendly. I was pretty much on my own at the end of the race but the support around the course never faltered.
What next? Well I can barely climb stairs at the moment so I’ll give it a week – but I’m going to do another! I know I can do better in each bit – so that it what I must do! Words like “Vetruvian” and “Steelman” have passed my lips in the last 48 hours. Who knows?
I did, however, promise Kevin months ago that when I had done my Half Ironman I would write a report. At the time I said something like "yes - if I get that far ...."
Well I did.
Ironman 70.3, Antwerp
1.2m / 1.9k swim 56m / 90k cycle half marathon
It all seemed a good idea one evening last November when I entered Antwerp Ironman 70.3.
A few days later I began to panic. A friend had recommended a triathlon coach; Brian Welsh of the tantalisingly named “Just Sweat, No Tears”. I visited his website. Pictures of lean people on podiums with union jack cycling tops nearly scared me off (why would he be interested in someone like me?) but I decided an email was easy and anonymous and sent one.
A month later I was on his books. To be fair I think I was less fit than he first realised – but he was ceaselessly encouraging and soon got me doing things I’d never done before. Key to this was joining Clifton Cycle Club.
My first few rides with Clifton were really hard. Anxiety was my main emotion as we met in the square and set off on 60 mile rides every Saturday. The first few times I got home and had to “take to my bed” for a few hours I was so exhausted. I was always last, trying to keep up to draft but being dropped on the slightest incline (Railway Bridge!). I was nurtured by Kevin, who leads the slow group, listening to all his advice, eating all his Mars bars and slowly I began to improve.
What else did I do? I used the Turbo Trainer. I did weights at the gym. Later in the year I did Time Trails and crazy things such as cycling 30 miles to a 10 mile road run and then cycling home again. Common sense dictated that I must be getting fitter – but a “half Ironman”? It still seemed a long way beyond me.
As August 2nd approached I became very anxious. The run dominated my fears. How was I going to run a half marathon after all the rest of it? Visions of me sitting down and crying (yes I have done that in run races before!) or needing the loo 10 times kept appearing in the night. I focused on the fact I knew I could compete the swim and bike, albeit slowly, and accepted that the run would be painful but couldn’t last for ever.
Antwerp was hot the day before. This was a concern but not one I could think about as I found the yacht club to register. I was handed my rucksack and Tshirt and was rather surprised to be asked “white or red wine?” Yes – we were on The Continent and a bottle of wine was mine for the taking!
I did what I could to familiarise myself with the course but races were going on all day so there was a limit to what could be done. I met up with a number of NYPTri Club members and we encouraged and shared fears as one tends to the day before a big race.
My early night was disturbed by …. Torrential rain. Yes. In was raining. Stupidly I had not planned for this as it was not forecast when I left home. Training in Yorkshire should mean rain gives you an advantage over all the Mediterranean types – I told myself. By the time I arrived at registration I was soaked – and that included my cycle shoes. Yuk! Running in wet socks would be fun! Further disaster was round the corner. I changed my goggle lenses for the grey skies – and broke my goggles! I was devastated! What could I do? I bravely approached the queue of triathletes entering transition and said “Excuse me. I have just broken my ….” And burst into tears. Pathetic. An Ironman marshal took me under his lovely Belgian wing and found someone with 2 pairs. I was sorted.
We put on our wetsuits, had a few biscuits, checked that things were as dry as possible (not very) and before we knew it were in our pens waiting for the start. I was lucky to have lots of NYPTri members in my pen (swim waves were determined by age) so we joked, chatted and encouraged. The water was really warm (21 degrees C) and within a minute of entering the water – we were off.
I usually enjoy the swim. I am not a good swimmer – but not a terrible one. Previous swim waves have been determined by sex or predicted swim times. This means I am usually surrounded by girls or weak swimmers. This time I was surrounded by 40 year old monster Ironmen. It was a bit of washing machine! I was soon into my stroke as the animals raced ahead. Unfortunately half way round it all happened again as the strong swimmers in the next swim wave swam over the top of me! I was punched in the eye – not on purpose I’m sure – but despite being shocked and sore for a few seconds I checked my goggles were still there and finished the swim.
It was long run through transition to the bikes but suddenly I felt good. It was, of course, still raining and I struggled to pull on some cycle shorts and socks. I ate a packet of mini chedders (very quickly Brian! I lost no time!) and was off.
I had opted not to put on a long sleeved cycling top as no one else seemed to be but was a bit worried about getting cold. I knew I could be on the bike for 4 hours and it was quite windy. Would I end up in a broom wagon with hypothermia? Within a minute Debs Hassles passed me. She always passes me on the bike – as I am very slightly better than her at swimming. Usually we are an hour into the bike before she passes me, not 2 minutes. Never mind – Go Debs! Go!
We had to cycle under the river by a long tunnel and then it was off to the docks and north towards Holland. On the map I thought it might be a nice cycle along water – but of course in docks you don’t see any water – just warehouses and containers. It was still raining hard – and to be honest it was a but grim. As I turned into a headwind I wondered if this was going to be the breaking of me, but kept spinning as cyclists over took me.
To be fair I quite enjoyed the bike. The out and back twice course meant you kept seeing people you knew – who were all incredibly encouraging. The rains was grim – but let’s face it I’m used to it – and after about an hour it stopped and the sun even started to break through. I “ate instinctively” (advice from Steve Woods) and drank a bottle an hour. As I approached T2 (the 2nd transition area which is the other side of the river from the first) I realised I had stacks of time and was unlikely to be kicked out for being to slow. I began to grin.
In T2 I changed my shoes stuck on a cap and started to run. I felt OK. I had already decided that thinking “I’ve got 13 miles to go” would be fatal. The run course is 3 circuits so I mentally divided it into 3. I decided to run the first circuit without stopping and then see how I felt. I did this, being passed by encouraging NYPTri members every now and then. After one circuit I sat done to smooth out my wet socks (which were wrinkled and giving me blisters) whist necking some water. Every 30 minutes I took a gel. My strategy was “run until it’s time for a gel or to the next feed station”. Lesley Whitehouse overtook me as she was nearing the finish looking great! Gazelle like! I ran on and before I knew it I was on the last lap. I knew I was going to do it and far from being concerned about making it within the 8h30 cut off I started realising I might make it in less than 7 hours. I felt great. And I felt awful! I was over the moon – but my legs were so heavy. I resorted to mind games. Distract yourself! Remember all the words to Bohemian Rhapsody and American Pie (that took up 15 minutes). Pop into a restaurant for the loo (more physical that one!). Only a kilometre to go. More sugary drink and I’m running into the square! Over the line!
I am a God!
7h 05. Hardly great on the wider scheme of things but I had done it and far quicker than I had ever dared hope. I was crying and “high fiving” another woman who had just finished. Hoorah!
It was a long walk back to T2 to get my bike. On the way I thought I was going to faint so sat down and necked a bottle of water. I later found out there was a transfer bus! My legs would have preferred that!
It was a great weekend. I thoroughly recommend it. It has to be the flattest Ironman 70.3 around so is less intimidating than ludicrous races like Wimbleball. Antwerp is a great city. Café culture flourishes in the many beautiful squares and the Belgians were so friendly. I was pretty much on my own at the end of the race but the support around the course never faltered.
What next? Well I can barely climb stairs at the moment so I’ll give it a week – but I’m going to do another! I know I can do better in each bit – so that it what I must do! Words like “Vetruvian” and “Steelman” have passed my lips in the last 48 hours. Who knows?