Did you know that Rapperswil and Jona were twinned at the beginning of 2007?
No? Well, I do, because that was the bit of the Rapperswil-Jona Ironman 70.3 pre-race briefing I remember. For which I was of course late. But before getting into the event itself, let’s begin at some point we'll call the beginning, and how did I ended up coming to be there anyway...
It all started as an idle thought last year shortly after the London (Olympic distance) Triathlon in August. Riding that wave of euphoria, once I was back in Switzerland and idly surfing the internet, I stumbled upon the inaugural Ironman 70.3 Switzerland. Now, London Tri was extremely hard, but not in the same way my marathon was. For London, I'd been pushing to go as fast as I could pretty much, and I came out of it gasping like a steam train, heart rate through the roof and with my best ever 10km time. The marathon was grindingly hard, with my legs just not being able to go on, not working after I finished, and was probably the longest continuous exercise I'd ever done.
I figured the Ironman 70.3 might be a good way of testing endurance like a marathon, but without the relentless "one action" pounding. So, I entered, back in October 2006ish.
Through the exceptionally mild winter we had, I'd been out on my bike a lot (well, for me a lot). With being only intermittently employed from January to March, I got in some good long rides and managed to get a good few training sessions in per week. I think I reached the peak of my fitness around the beginning of April. Two things then happened - I started working more, and I went away a lot at the weekends.
So, as this weekend appeared on the horizon, I was feeling quite nervous. I'd done the bike course a few times (once with a pro who was also sighting the course), done the run distance loads of times, done the swim numerous times - but never all back to back. And that’s the real trick isn't it, as someone once said. After the New Forest Tri on May 13th, I'd decided to taper, and all I'd done was a small brick, a leisurely 1,900m swim and some fiddling about on the bike tuning things up.
About 2 weeks prior to the race, I started doing kit lists and obsessing over what to wear (and I still don't think Trinnie and Susannah would have approved - Lycra is just so 80's). The week prior, I went and bought myself all the last minute supplies of gels, pain killers and plasters that I might need.
The lake temperature steadily dropped during the week, to an unpleasant 12 degrees at one point, and I envisaged a New Forest like deluge of a day. Tuesday, I hired a wetsuit, that up until the week before I was confident I wouldn't need. Thursday, I started to really concentrate on my diet - not carb loading as such, but eating a lot. I actually tried to ensure that I was eating a lot of fruit and veg as well, to ensure...err..."peristalsis" was working well. Friday, I started majoring on the carbs as well. Extra potatoes with everything.
Friday night, in the rain and wind, I took the wetsuit for a test drive at the only swimming bath I could find open on the lake. They thought I was mad until they found out I was English. It was suitably unpleasant - ice cold feet were the worst bit. Luckily none of the hyper ventilation I had last year when trying things out. Friday night, we managed to get to bed early(ish) and I had nearly 12 hours sleep, on the basis that I probably wouldn't sleep very well on Saturday night.
Saturday, I burnt the porridge. Then, we got stuck in traffic on the way to Rapperswil. It’s only about 35km, so I probably could have cycled quicker than we drove there, but it was raining cats and dogs, so I'm kind of glad we didn't. And I have to leave my bike overnight in this?
So, this is where we came in...
The race briefing in English (gotta love Switzerland) was from 15:00 to 16:00. I got there at about 15:35, just after all the useful stuff about the start, the swim course, T1 and bike rules had been dealt with. Doh! Nothing particularly new, except that there were stretches of the course where Tri bars were forbidden - 3 in total I think, on downhill stretches in built up areas with turns at the bottom.
Checked in the bike, and received the complimentary all over bike rain cover. Phew. No one bothered to lock their bikes up at all, despite transition being an open air Astroturf hockey pitch. Consumed pasta and cheese. Got my complimentary (you know what I mean - it’s touted as "free" but you pay for it somewhere in the 290CHF entry price) Ironman 70.3 rucksack.
Went home. Obsessed over my kit. Packed and re-packed it in different piles and different bags. I've gone and added detailed commentary to my kit list post here if others are interested, but in summary I took far more than I needed into transition in terms of wet weather gear, extra bike bits and food BUT I'd probably take nearly as much if I did it again, just not quite so much food. The Mars bars did indeed liquefy in the heat.
Got to bed about midnight on Saturday. Read to try and calm down a bit. Lay awake for a bit. Dozed off into fitful dreams about something important.
Race day, woke at 05:15, mostly thankful to be getting up and on with it. Tea. Porridge with banana and honey. Bread with honey. Coffee. Banana. Energy drink. Ablutions. Not enough black coffee consumed obviously...
Drove through the centre of town at 06:30 on a Sunday. Cities are always interesting then. In Zurich, the trams have been running for about an hour already, so the late night revellers are mostly home already, and as the shops are shut on Sundays, no one is about. I managed to run 2 red lights in my confusion at there being absolutely no traffic on the roads.
Down the lake, we passed several people starting their breakfast at a lake side cafe at 06:57. Yes, 06:57 they were having their leisurely breakfast. And yes, the cafe was open. Early risers the Swiss.
Got to Rapperswil and of course the car park from yesterday right outside transition was closed to traffic. So, we parked and had about a 15 minute walk in to the start area. Things were buzzing already at 07:00. I took my stuff in to my bike, and started to lay it out. By this time, it was looking pretty clear skies all round, but I kept the wet weather gear there just in case. Laid out things as usual (gosh, wrote that without thinking - not really usual, as it’s only been 3 times before, but it felt like a habit already). Struggled to find places to put the 2 bananas, bag of dried fruit and nuts, Gummi bears, bottle of diet coke, bottle of water, bottle of energy drink, 6 energy gels, energy bar and Mars bars.
Went back to the missus, who had been trying to find any "finishers lockers" or similar to put a change of clothes in. Got her to help grease me up (note: I had done all intimate areas before leaving the house, and put my tri suit on straight away) and headed off to the changing room. The place I hired the suit showed me a neat way to put on a wetsuit involving turning it inside out, then half turning the legs and arms the right way again. You can then step into it, pull it up tugging on the folded over inside part, then roll the rest over your thighs. Works well on tight fitting suits. So, I greased up some more (I used a whole stick of body glide), and stepped out into the bright new dawn. By which time, it was getting close to start time. I still hadn't really let my mind focus on what was happening, and it was starting to creep up on me now that something big was going on.
The missus helped me do the suit up, wished me luck, and I was into the start pen. Where the rumour that the swim had been shortened was confirmed: Down from 1900m to 1400m because the lake was only 14 degrees. The difference to the New Forest was it was sunny and about 2 hours later in the day, so things looked a lot more pleasing to the eye. Exact start times were a bit Heisenberg - you could either get in the water and start, or go and ask when you should start, but apparently it was not possible to do both. Due to different times having been issued for different age categories, and putting everything back by 5 minutes because of the course shortening, it was confusing. I collared 3 officials, and opted for the majority view that 08:35 was my start time.
Hat on, goggles on, 2nd hat on. Into the water. It’s bracing, but not shockingly cold. I'm surprised its only 15, as it feels a lot warmer than New Forest, and warmer than my trial swim on Friday night. The start line is off shore a little ways. I leisurely stroke out with the hundred or so others - maybe its 200, hard to tell as it’s quite a long line. Compared to London's sardine like atmosphere, this is positively luxurious. I'm really focusing on how cold my feet are right now, because my mind is busy trying to tell me that something big is about to happen...
bang. With a small b. There is no sudden rush, no cathartic release. It’s just a noise, and we start swimming. I put my head down and concentrate on breathing. After a while, I check my sighting on the island that is the turn point (it’s still the turn point, even though the course is a there and back loop but is now 400m shorter, confusingly). I concentrate on pacing myself. Some people go past me, I pass some others. It’s a bit hard to tell really, as everyone looks very similar at this stage. The field breaks up a lot, and I reckon I'm about two thirds of the way back in it (which would turn out to be almost exactly right - 92 out of 160 for the swim). There isn't the jostling and shoving of other Tri's at all, nice and spread out. Quite a lot of people are swimming inside the buoys that mark the inner edge of the loop of the course - on one buoy, it’s not a big difference, but by the time you've done 18 of them, you've shortened things a bit. Hmmm.
End of the swim comes in sight, and I do a bit of leg kicking to get the blood moving. I swim up the ramp as far as I can, as opposed to some other people who stand up as soon as they can. I don't put my feet down until I can't swim any further, and I seem to overtake a few people that way. Helping hands prevent us all falling back down the ramp as heads go wobbly, but New Forest is close enough that I am running on auto. Up the ramp, zip down, arms off, hat and goggles off, and start running. I pass a few people here as I go hell for leather into T1. Screech to a stop, shake off the worst of the gravel from the astro turf. Shoes on, race belt on - woooah, glad I put my helmet on my Tri bars so I couldn't move the bike without it, I almost forgot, and there was a marshal 2 metres away watching me. Unrack, leg it for bike out. I did good on that part - 19th in my category, my best bit of the result. I can get changed quickly. Must be all those years of private school education with "changebacks" as punishments (change into sports kit, change back into uniform, whilst timed by a prefect. Usually competing with some other poor idiot as well, with a worse punishment for the loser. English private education hey?)
Out of T1, the missus is cheering me on with the multilingual placard. Clip in is OK, nothing spectacular, but at least not eye watering as it has been in the past. I start up the motor, and get going past the crowds. A few carbon bling boys pass me, the "whoom, whoom" of their disc wheels an intimidating Doppler as they pass. I've decided I'll have my HRM on bike speed for the day (NB: On the Polar SX625x, its not possible to swap between Bike speed/distance and Run speed/distance, without loosing cumulative time elapsed, which is annoying), as that's what I want to pace most carefully. And I'm glad I did - I'm already about 10kmh faster than my target pace without feeling it. If I keep this up, I'm going to burn out. But with the crowds yelling, rattles going, music pumping and carbon bling zipping past, it’s hard to keep it steady. I start telling myself that this is my race, not theirs, and I have to stick to my pace regardless of what they do. We'll see how that works...
Town is quickly left behind. The first 10km are undulating. I've not ridden this bit with aero bars before, and it makes a big difference. I'm happy with the effort I'm putting in to maintain a speed averaging around 30kmh. I remember to drink some energy drink. Coming into the first climb at Witches Hill, I slow it down and drop gears, whilst a few others nearly fail to make the corner. Some of them start up the climb with what I think is over aggressive pacing. But as I never see them again, I can only assume they did know what they were doing. I have a triple chain wheel on my steed, which means I can drop to a low gear and spin away whilst crawling forward. Lots of riders had double chain wheels, which means they can't go as low, so have to put more effort in. Consequently, I was the slowest person on the climbs I saw - I didn't overtake anyone, but quite a few overtook me. Aid station at the top, grab some water, slop it into the open topped aero bottle (isn't that a clever idea?). Little downhill, through some rolling terrain and farmyards (Swiss farmyards - they're very clean), and we're back to climbing. This ones not as steep, but long. More people pass me. The sound of disc wheels is beginning to grate. Its very tempting to shift up a gear, stand up on the pedals and honk it, but my biggest fear for the race is overdoing it on the bike and getting cramp in the lower right thigh (as happened at New Forest). So, I sit tight, drink some more, and open an energy gel. At the top of the climb, there are cheering supporters and another aid station. I grab some more water.
Now, downhill, that’s a different story. My bike is weightier than those carbon bling boyz and so am I. With no cars (probably - they can't officially, properly close roads in Switzerland), you can swing nice and wide on the turns. So on the long downhill, it’s hands off the brakes, tuck down on the aero bars and squeeze the frame between my thighs. Just failed to hit 70kmh - 69.5 :-) Not that I was checking my watch at the time. Overtook a few people then, thankfully! Zip through a village where tri bars aren't allowed, and into the slight downhill for about 8km. This is a nice bit - up to highest gear, aero tuck and keep an easy cadence going. Sadly, that’s the end of the fun bit, and we're back to a climb. Whilst climbing, I hear a friendly "Ben! You're a fast swimmer!" as the other guy I know doing the race burns past me (he finished in 5:02 in the end). Back onto the 10km, and my body is starting to realise I'm going to ask it to do it again, and its not happy. More nutrition, more water. Back into town, and I'm feeling OK. Some pain in the front of my knees, my back aches, but not unbearably.
The turn is a roundabout with a big turning circle. I swing round it, and catch sight of the missus over my shoulder, screaming like a loon. It does make a difference - you realise that someone is paying attention to what you're doing and you're not all alone out there.
The 10km back out to Witches Hill is unpleasant, mostly because I can feel my legs don't have the power they did the first time round. I also see a couple of peletons go past the other way of 15-20 riders, which is just annoying - the marshals don't seem to be doing much to stop it. Its particularly effective on that stretch I would judge, as the wind is getting up and its a potentially fast stretch. Grrr. Into the hill, and there are spectators madly swinging HUGE cow bells on a yoke style thing. Men dresses as witches in sack cloth, waving broomsticks - its a good diversion and they all cheer your name. I'm slower up the hill than first time, and it hurts.
Down a bit, and back into the farmyards. Feels like a head wind is picking up here too, and I'm struggling. My mind starts to wander, but I recognise it, drink some water and open a Power bar because I can't face a 3rd gel yet. Boosts me to the start of the big climb. But by this stage, I'm starting to feel deeply unwell. Nausea, dizziness, bile in the throat and just an overall feeling of lassitude. I struggle ever so slowly up the climb, breath whistling away, and grab a banana and coke at the top. I think I need solids. Coke goes down nicely, banana goes in the top of the aero bottle for after the fast descent.
The combination of coke and wind wakes me up, and I'm grinning again (through the pain) at the bottom of the descent. Overtook a few bling boyz on that one. But, shock horror! The banana has either bounced out or into the drink. This is a minor disaster, as I'd been promising myself that and there aren't any more aid stations.
About this point, my body is starting to realise it nearing the end of the bike (well, maybe 15-20km to go, but its in sight), and is sending me urgent signals about going and having a nice lie down in a darkened room afterwards. As I start the 10km back into town, I'm back to feeling even more nauseous, my legs are shot to hell, and I'm starting to feel dizzy again. As I come into town, I try and pull myself together so that the missus doesn't worry.
I've slowed it right down now, spinning lactic out, finishing energy drinks and water and stretching my back. I coast into transition, dismount in an ungainly manner, and shuffle into T2. So much for negative splits - I'm 10 minutes slower the second time round. My watch shows 3:41, which is my marathon finishing time. I'm kind of dumbstruck that I still have to run a half marathon now.
This is hard. My legs are thinking they are about to stop and are very pleased at the prospect. My head is pounding and swimming at the same time. My stomach is really unpleasant, beyond simple nausea - its going to demand payback (which started aggressively Tuesday morning actually). I rack the bike, and kneel down to survey my goodies. Gummi bears seem to be causing the least revulsion on sight, so I suck a few down. I gulp some diet coke I left there (with the cap slightly undone so its half flat). The mars bars are a soggy mess, so I cram the last bit of Power bar in as I do my shoes up. I tip a bottle of water over my head, slip my hat on, a banana in my pocket, and set off. The banana promptly falls out.
I think I probably must be part chicken. I swear that my head had nothing to do with my body at this point. My legs were just going of their own accord. Chop my head off and they'd carry on. The important thing here was not to stop. At all. Slow down, but not stop. Plod, plod, plod. Along the river in the shade. Under a bridge, onto the cobbles (why cobbles?). Through the old town. Sponges, water. Splish splash. And the stairs...
Really, the joke about the Stairway to Heaven is wearing pretty thin at this point. There’s a church at the top of 66 steps. And we have to run up it 3 times in total, once each lap. I spring up it the first time, taking it two at a time towards the top. My right legs promptly spasms and threatens to cramp on me. Wooah there boy. I slow down, take it nice and steady.
Water, banana, and coke get me through this bit. Its all a bit episodic, going from transition to the Stairway back past transition to the church and lap control, then back to transition for the end of lap 1. They slide nice coloured hair bands over our wrists at lap control, to make sure we know what lap we're on Sometimes you just really can't remember. Lots of people are walking, stopping and stretching. No one looks happy.
Bouillon is good here - hot, salty, clear soup. Nice little kick. Sadly I throw most of it on my sunglasses and its quite hot. So that wakes me up. All through lap 1 I've been having horrible stomach cramps, so I take a leaf out of the pros book and do a Paula (just a number 1 before you ask). It goes on for some time. The sense of relief is enormous. I spring out of the bushes a new man, and laugh at the cobbles and the Stairway. Despite my 2 minute pit stop, I'm still more or less on a 5 minute kilometre pace, which would see me do a 1:45 half and finish under 5:30 (but you can add on 10 mins for the shortened swim).
Lap 2, I feel OK. I can do this. I begin to allow myself to realise I could finish this. The missus takes some nice photos of my sweat lined tri suit bottom going up the stairs, but I'm grinning as she does so. The support crews are very good at exhorting us, by name, to drink and eat. Its really quite warm now. I try to keep a steady pace, and think about the next km marker.
Making the turn at transition is satisfying. Next time I'll go right past you. Lap 3, I pick up the pace ever so slightly. I have a couple of wobbles where my right leg threatens to go, but it hangs in there. About km 4 on the last lap, I stop taking on water etc as I'm concentrating too hard on just running. 5km comes and goes, and I go past the entrance to transition. The turn point and I get my 3rd hair band. I'm picking it up now, alternately grinning and grimacing. I'm actually going to do this. I am going to finish now, even if I have to crawl. But I'm speeding along now, heart rate picking up, endorphins overriding my legs complaints. 7km - onto the blue carpet. Arms come into play as I begin "sprinting". Through the switchback, past two other finishers, into the arena. Its dark inside. I spring over the line, and flash bulbs go off, catching me with what must be one of the most naked expressions on my face of my life. The release is enormous - I'm giggling and sobbing and smiling and laughing and crying. Beautiful girls are approaching me with smiles on their faces - no, I'm not hallucinating, they really have got the local beauty pageant contestants to present the medals to 1,200 sweaty athletes.
The missus is in the stands, screaming and waving. All I can do is grin foolishly. I just did a half Ironman.
Full gallery of photos here.
Age group results here.
It all started as an idle thought last year shortly after the London (Olympic distance) Triathlon in August. Riding that wave of euphoria, once I was back in Switzerland and idly surfing the internet, I stumbled upon the inaugural Ironman 70.3 Switzerland. Now, London Tri was extremely hard, but not in the same way my marathon was. For London, I'd been pushing to go as fast as I could pretty much, and I came out of it gasping like a steam train, heart rate through the roof and with my best ever 10km time. The marathon was grindingly hard, with my legs just not being able to go on, not working after I finished, and was probably the longest continuous exercise I'd ever done.
I figured the Ironman 70.3 might be a good way of testing endurance like a marathon, but without the relentless "one action" pounding. So, I entered, back in October 2006ish.
Through the exceptionally mild winter we had, I'd been out on my bike a lot (well, for me a lot). With being only intermittently employed from January to March, I got in some good long rides and managed to get a good few training sessions in per week. I think I reached the peak of my fitness around the beginning of April. Two things then happened - I started working more, and I went away a lot at the weekends.
So, as this weekend appeared on the horizon, I was feeling quite nervous. I'd done the bike course a few times (once with a pro who was also sighting the course), done the run distance loads of times, done the swim numerous times - but never all back to back. And that’s the real trick isn't it, as someone once said. After the New Forest Tri on May 13th, I'd decided to taper, and all I'd done was a small brick, a leisurely 1,900m swim and some fiddling about on the bike tuning things up.
About 2 weeks prior to the race, I started doing kit lists and obsessing over what to wear (and I still don't think Trinnie and Susannah would have approved - Lycra is just so 80's). The week prior, I went and bought myself all the last minute supplies of gels, pain killers and plasters that I might need.
The lake temperature steadily dropped during the week, to an unpleasant 12 degrees at one point, and I envisaged a New Forest like deluge of a day. Tuesday, I hired a wetsuit, that up until the week before I was confident I wouldn't need. Thursday, I started to really concentrate on my diet - not carb loading as such, but eating a lot. I actually tried to ensure that I was eating a lot of fruit and veg as well, to ensure...err..."peristalsis" was working well. Friday, I started majoring on the carbs as well. Extra potatoes with everything.
Friday night, in the rain and wind, I took the wetsuit for a test drive at the only swimming bath I could find open on the lake. They thought I was mad until they found out I was English. It was suitably unpleasant - ice cold feet were the worst bit. Luckily none of the hyper ventilation I had last year when trying things out. Friday night, we managed to get to bed early(ish) and I had nearly 12 hours sleep, on the basis that I probably wouldn't sleep very well on Saturday night.
Saturday, I burnt the porridge. Then, we got stuck in traffic on the way to Rapperswil. It’s only about 35km, so I probably could have cycled quicker than we drove there, but it was raining cats and dogs, so I'm kind of glad we didn't. And I have to leave my bike overnight in this?
So, this is where we came in...
The race briefing in English (gotta love Switzerland) was from 15:00 to 16:00. I got there at about 15:35, just after all the useful stuff about the start, the swim course, T1 and bike rules had been dealt with. Doh! Nothing particularly new, except that there were stretches of the course where Tri bars were forbidden - 3 in total I think, on downhill stretches in built up areas with turns at the bottom.
Checked in the bike, and received the complimentary all over bike rain cover. Phew. No one bothered to lock their bikes up at all, despite transition being an open air Astroturf hockey pitch. Consumed pasta and cheese. Got my complimentary (you know what I mean - it’s touted as "free" but you pay for it somewhere in the 290CHF entry price) Ironman 70.3 rucksack.
Went home. Obsessed over my kit. Packed and re-packed it in different piles and different bags. I've gone and added detailed commentary to my kit list post here if others are interested, but in summary I took far more than I needed into transition in terms of wet weather gear, extra bike bits and food BUT I'd probably take nearly as much if I did it again, just not quite so much food. The Mars bars did indeed liquefy in the heat.
Got to bed about midnight on Saturday. Read to try and calm down a bit. Lay awake for a bit. Dozed off into fitful dreams about something important.
Race day, woke at 05:15, mostly thankful to be getting up and on with it. Tea. Porridge with banana and honey. Bread with honey. Coffee. Banana. Energy drink. Ablutions. Not enough black coffee consumed obviously...
Drove through the centre of town at 06:30 on a Sunday. Cities are always interesting then. In Zurich, the trams have been running for about an hour already, so the late night revellers are mostly home already, and as the shops are shut on Sundays, no one is about. I managed to run 2 red lights in my confusion at there being absolutely no traffic on the roads.
Down the lake, we passed several people starting their breakfast at a lake side cafe at 06:57. Yes, 06:57 they were having their leisurely breakfast. And yes, the cafe was open. Early risers the Swiss.
Got to Rapperswil and of course the car park from yesterday right outside transition was closed to traffic. So, we parked and had about a 15 minute walk in to the start area. Things were buzzing already at 07:00. I took my stuff in to my bike, and started to lay it out. By this time, it was looking pretty clear skies all round, but I kept the wet weather gear there just in case. Laid out things as usual (gosh, wrote that without thinking - not really usual, as it’s only been 3 times before, but it felt like a habit already). Struggled to find places to put the 2 bananas, bag of dried fruit and nuts, Gummi bears, bottle of diet coke, bottle of water, bottle of energy drink, 6 energy gels, energy bar and Mars bars.
Went back to the missus, who had been trying to find any "finishers lockers" or similar to put a change of clothes in. Got her to help grease me up (note: I had done all intimate areas before leaving the house, and put my tri suit on straight away) and headed off to the changing room. The place I hired the suit showed me a neat way to put on a wetsuit involving turning it inside out, then half turning the legs and arms the right way again. You can then step into it, pull it up tugging on the folded over inside part, then roll the rest over your thighs. Works well on tight fitting suits. So, I greased up some more (I used a whole stick of body glide), and stepped out into the bright new dawn. By which time, it was getting close to start time. I still hadn't really let my mind focus on what was happening, and it was starting to creep up on me now that something big was going on.
The missus helped me do the suit up, wished me luck, and I was into the start pen. Where the rumour that the swim had been shortened was confirmed: Down from 1900m to 1400m because the lake was only 14 degrees. The difference to the New Forest was it was sunny and about 2 hours later in the day, so things looked a lot more pleasing to the eye. Exact start times were a bit Heisenberg - you could either get in the water and start, or go and ask when you should start, but apparently it was not possible to do both. Due to different times having been issued for different age categories, and putting everything back by 5 minutes because of the course shortening, it was confusing. I collared 3 officials, and opted for the majority view that 08:35 was my start time.
Hat on, goggles on, 2nd hat on. Into the water. It’s bracing, but not shockingly cold. I'm surprised its only 15, as it feels a lot warmer than New Forest, and warmer than my trial swim on Friday night. The start line is off shore a little ways. I leisurely stroke out with the hundred or so others - maybe its 200, hard to tell as it’s quite a long line. Compared to London's sardine like atmosphere, this is positively luxurious. I'm really focusing on how cold my feet are right now, because my mind is busy trying to tell me that something big is about to happen...
bang. With a small b. There is no sudden rush, no cathartic release. It’s just a noise, and we start swimming. I put my head down and concentrate on breathing. After a while, I check my sighting on the island that is the turn point (it’s still the turn point, even though the course is a there and back loop but is now 400m shorter, confusingly). I concentrate on pacing myself. Some people go past me, I pass some others. It’s a bit hard to tell really, as everyone looks very similar at this stage. The field breaks up a lot, and I reckon I'm about two thirds of the way back in it (which would turn out to be almost exactly right - 92 out of 160 for the swim). There isn't the jostling and shoving of other Tri's at all, nice and spread out. Quite a lot of people are swimming inside the buoys that mark the inner edge of the loop of the course - on one buoy, it’s not a big difference, but by the time you've done 18 of them, you've shortened things a bit. Hmmm.
End of the swim comes in sight, and I do a bit of leg kicking to get the blood moving. I swim up the ramp as far as I can, as opposed to some other people who stand up as soon as they can. I don't put my feet down until I can't swim any further, and I seem to overtake a few people that way. Helping hands prevent us all falling back down the ramp as heads go wobbly, but New Forest is close enough that I am running on auto. Up the ramp, zip down, arms off, hat and goggles off, and start running. I pass a few people here as I go hell for leather into T1. Screech to a stop, shake off the worst of the gravel from the astro turf. Shoes on, race belt on - woooah, glad I put my helmet on my Tri bars so I couldn't move the bike without it, I almost forgot, and there was a marshal 2 metres away watching me. Unrack, leg it for bike out. I did good on that part - 19th in my category, my best bit of the result. I can get changed quickly. Must be all those years of private school education with "changebacks" as punishments (change into sports kit, change back into uniform, whilst timed by a prefect. Usually competing with some other poor idiot as well, with a worse punishment for the loser. English private education hey?)
Out of T1, the missus is cheering me on with the multilingual placard. Clip in is OK, nothing spectacular, but at least not eye watering as it has been in the past. I start up the motor, and get going past the crowds. A few carbon bling boys pass me, the "whoom, whoom" of their disc wheels an intimidating Doppler as they pass. I've decided I'll have my HRM on bike speed for the day (NB: On the Polar SX625x, its not possible to swap between Bike speed/distance and Run speed/distance, without loosing cumulative time elapsed, which is annoying), as that's what I want to pace most carefully. And I'm glad I did - I'm already about 10kmh faster than my target pace without feeling it. If I keep this up, I'm going to burn out. But with the crowds yelling, rattles going, music pumping and carbon bling zipping past, it’s hard to keep it steady. I start telling myself that this is my race, not theirs, and I have to stick to my pace regardless of what they do. We'll see how that works...
Town is quickly left behind. The first 10km are undulating. I've not ridden this bit with aero bars before, and it makes a big difference. I'm happy with the effort I'm putting in to maintain a speed averaging around 30kmh. I remember to drink some energy drink. Coming into the first climb at Witches Hill, I slow it down and drop gears, whilst a few others nearly fail to make the corner. Some of them start up the climb with what I think is over aggressive pacing. But as I never see them again, I can only assume they did know what they were doing. I have a triple chain wheel on my steed, which means I can drop to a low gear and spin away whilst crawling forward. Lots of riders had double chain wheels, which means they can't go as low, so have to put more effort in. Consequently, I was the slowest person on the climbs I saw - I didn't overtake anyone, but quite a few overtook me. Aid station at the top, grab some water, slop it into the open topped aero bottle (isn't that a clever idea?). Little downhill, through some rolling terrain and farmyards (Swiss farmyards - they're very clean), and we're back to climbing. This ones not as steep, but long. More people pass me. The sound of disc wheels is beginning to grate. Its very tempting to shift up a gear, stand up on the pedals and honk it, but my biggest fear for the race is overdoing it on the bike and getting cramp in the lower right thigh (as happened at New Forest). So, I sit tight, drink some more, and open an energy gel. At the top of the climb, there are cheering supporters and another aid station. I grab some more water.
Now, downhill, that’s a different story. My bike is weightier than those carbon bling boyz and so am I. With no cars (probably - they can't officially, properly close roads in Switzerland), you can swing nice and wide on the turns. So on the long downhill, it’s hands off the brakes, tuck down on the aero bars and squeeze the frame between my thighs. Just failed to hit 70kmh - 69.5 :-) Not that I was checking my watch at the time. Overtook a few people then, thankfully! Zip through a village where tri bars aren't allowed, and into the slight downhill for about 8km. This is a nice bit - up to highest gear, aero tuck and keep an easy cadence going. Sadly, that’s the end of the fun bit, and we're back to a climb. Whilst climbing, I hear a friendly "Ben! You're a fast swimmer!" as the other guy I know doing the race burns past me (he finished in 5:02 in the end). Back onto the 10km, and my body is starting to realise I'm going to ask it to do it again, and its not happy. More nutrition, more water. Back into town, and I'm feeling OK. Some pain in the front of my knees, my back aches, but not unbearably.
The turn is a roundabout with a big turning circle. I swing round it, and catch sight of the missus over my shoulder, screaming like a loon. It does make a difference - you realise that someone is paying attention to what you're doing and you're not all alone out there.
The 10km back out to Witches Hill is unpleasant, mostly because I can feel my legs don't have the power they did the first time round. I also see a couple of peletons go past the other way of 15-20 riders, which is just annoying - the marshals don't seem to be doing much to stop it. Its particularly effective on that stretch I would judge, as the wind is getting up and its a potentially fast stretch. Grrr. Into the hill, and there are spectators madly swinging HUGE cow bells on a yoke style thing. Men dresses as witches in sack cloth, waving broomsticks - its a good diversion and they all cheer your name. I'm slower up the hill than first time, and it hurts.
Down a bit, and back into the farmyards. Feels like a head wind is picking up here too, and I'm struggling. My mind starts to wander, but I recognise it, drink some water and open a Power bar because I can't face a 3rd gel yet. Boosts me to the start of the big climb. But by this stage, I'm starting to feel deeply unwell. Nausea, dizziness, bile in the throat and just an overall feeling of lassitude. I struggle ever so slowly up the climb, breath whistling away, and grab a banana and coke at the top. I think I need solids. Coke goes down nicely, banana goes in the top of the aero bottle for after the fast descent.
The combination of coke and wind wakes me up, and I'm grinning again (through the pain) at the bottom of the descent. Overtook a few bling boyz on that one. But, shock horror! The banana has either bounced out or into the drink. This is a minor disaster, as I'd been promising myself that and there aren't any more aid stations.
About this point, my body is starting to realise it nearing the end of the bike (well, maybe 15-20km to go, but its in sight), and is sending me urgent signals about going and having a nice lie down in a darkened room afterwards. As I start the 10km back into town, I'm back to feeling even more nauseous, my legs are shot to hell, and I'm starting to feel dizzy again. As I come into town, I try and pull myself together so that the missus doesn't worry.
I've slowed it right down now, spinning lactic out, finishing energy drinks and water and stretching my back. I coast into transition, dismount in an ungainly manner, and shuffle into T2. So much for negative splits - I'm 10 minutes slower the second time round. My watch shows 3:41, which is my marathon finishing time. I'm kind of dumbstruck that I still have to run a half marathon now.
This is hard. My legs are thinking they are about to stop and are very pleased at the prospect. My head is pounding and swimming at the same time. My stomach is really unpleasant, beyond simple nausea - its going to demand payback (which started aggressively Tuesday morning actually). I rack the bike, and kneel down to survey my goodies. Gummi bears seem to be causing the least revulsion on sight, so I suck a few down. I gulp some diet coke I left there (with the cap slightly undone so its half flat). The mars bars are a soggy mess, so I cram the last bit of Power bar in as I do my shoes up. I tip a bottle of water over my head, slip my hat on, a banana in my pocket, and set off. The banana promptly falls out.
I think I probably must be part chicken. I swear that my head had nothing to do with my body at this point. My legs were just going of their own accord. Chop my head off and they'd carry on. The important thing here was not to stop. At all. Slow down, but not stop. Plod, plod, plod. Along the river in the shade. Under a bridge, onto the cobbles (why cobbles?). Through the old town. Sponges, water. Splish splash. And the stairs...
Really, the joke about the Stairway to Heaven is wearing pretty thin at this point. There’s a church at the top of 66 steps. And we have to run up it 3 times in total, once each lap. I spring up it the first time, taking it two at a time towards the top. My right legs promptly spasms and threatens to cramp on me. Wooah there boy. I slow down, take it nice and steady.
Water, banana, and coke get me through this bit. Its all a bit episodic, going from transition to the Stairway back past transition to the church and lap control, then back to transition for the end of lap 1. They slide nice coloured hair bands over our wrists at lap control, to make sure we know what lap we're on Sometimes you just really can't remember. Lots of people are walking, stopping and stretching. No one looks happy.
Bouillon is good here - hot, salty, clear soup. Nice little kick. Sadly I throw most of it on my sunglasses and its quite hot. So that wakes me up. All through lap 1 I've been having horrible stomach cramps, so I take a leaf out of the pros book and do a Paula (just a number 1 before you ask). It goes on for some time. The sense of relief is enormous. I spring out of the bushes a new man, and laugh at the cobbles and the Stairway. Despite my 2 minute pit stop, I'm still more or less on a 5 minute kilometre pace, which would see me do a 1:45 half and finish under 5:30 (but you can add on 10 mins for the shortened swim).
Lap 2, I feel OK. I can do this. I begin to allow myself to realise I could finish this. The missus takes some nice photos of my sweat lined tri suit bottom going up the stairs, but I'm grinning as she does so. The support crews are very good at exhorting us, by name, to drink and eat. Its really quite warm now. I try to keep a steady pace, and think about the next km marker.
Making the turn at transition is satisfying. Next time I'll go right past you. Lap 3, I pick up the pace ever so slightly. I have a couple of wobbles where my right leg threatens to go, but it hangs in there. About km 4 on the last lap, I stop taking on water etc as I'm concentrating too hard on just running. 5km comes and goes, and I go past the entrance to transition. The turn point and I get my 3rd hair band. I'm picking it up now, alternately grinning and grimacing. I'm actually going to do this. I am going to finish now, even if I have to crawl. But I'm speeding along now, heart rate picking up, endorphins overriding my legs complaints. 7km - onto the blue carpet. Arms come into play as I begin "sprinting". Through the switchback, past two other finishers, into the arena. Its dark inside. I spring over the line, and flash bulbs go off, catching me with what must be one of the most naked expressions on my face of my life. The release is enormous - I'm giggling and sobbing and smiling and laughing and crying. Beautiful girls are approaching me with smiles on their faces - no, I'm not hallucinating, they really have got the local beauty pageant contestants to present the medals to 1,200 sweaty athletes.
The missus is in the stands, screaming and waving. All I can do is grin foolishly. I just did a half Ironman.
Full gallery of photos here.
Age group results here.