A Brief History of Cycling

Last time around I wrote about how the one upside to the lockdown around here has been quiet and safer roads to cycle on, which has given me hundreds of miles on the bike in the last few months, the most I have had in years outside races.

One thing I noticed about riding verses running is there is a lot more thinking time, mainly as cycling has different physical tolls on your body (although not necessarily on those hills!) but also something about being sat up and looking around means I seem to experience more of the scenery, and the extra range has allowed me to see plenty of new parts of my county.

For some reason during one of my rides, my mind started flashing back to my own bike history, which I realised could be broken down fairly well into decades, showing my age a bit as well:

The Eighties – BMX Bandits

1983 Raleigh Night Burner - BMXmuseum.com

I got my first bike (that I can recall) at about the age of 6 or 7: a red Raleigh BMX. Sadly the one in the picture (Raleigh Night Burner) was not mine, but it did have the same sort of padding padding in the top tube so was close enough, although this one is missing the spokey-dokeys that used to come free with breakfast cereals! I still remember the day I graduated from stabalisers at our top riding spot at the Seven Sisters near Eastbourne, although the main problem was this made me much slower than my younger sister who could now out-pedal me on her smaller (pink) bike – We were definitely the coolest kids around!

Eastbourne's Seven Sisters Cliffs Make Top 20 In Poll of UK's Best ...

The Nineties – Off-Road Riding

My next decade brought a different ride, something better equipped to deal with the more rugged conditions around our farm: a mountain bike. This was another big deal, not just as it was a great Christmas surprise, but gave a bit of extra freedom as we lived fairly rurally and meant we could ride through the fields and gravel paths (again the below picture is not me, but it was something like this!) Despite the space I never really got into riding anywhere further, in fact I am not sure I ever took it on a road, but I still have good memories of flying over grassy mounds in the fields.

Young man on bike riding MTB across a green field during sunset by ...

The Noughties – Indoor Riding

This was the only decade of my life where I didn’t own a bike at all, having spent most of my time either at uni (where I was in constant fear of being robbed) or finally owning a car (and therefore dismissing all two wheel modes of transport for the next few years)!

Technogym Group Cycle | Ride or Connect | Available at Gym Marine

Having started driving, I did at least take the decision to improve my fitness and got around to joining a gym, which introduced me to the likes of Concept 2 and TechnoGym equipment, including of course their stationary bikes. The quality varied massively depending where you were training, ranging from fairly basic LED displays and foot cages in the cheap hotel gyms I frequented, rising to all-singing jobs with built in touchscreen TVs and proper clip-in pedals at the top end health clubs (even underwater bikes in one place I wrote about here). But by the end of the decade I was starting to want a bit more, which finally managed to get me back outside and into the wild.

The Early Teens – Triathlons on a Mountain Bike…?

After completing my first triathlon relay in 2010 I decided to go all out and enter a triathlon the following year. Realising a bike would be a fairly crucial bit of kit for the job I swiftly signed up for my company’s Cycle 2 Work scheme, and was equally swiftly talked into getting a Carrera Fury by the teenager working at Halfords, which as it turned out was totally inappropriate for what I had in mind.


Most beginner triathlon guides make some mention of ‘any bike will do’, but believe me there are few things more dispiriting than crawling around a circular route at tractor pace on a knobbly tired tank and being overtaken by people twice your size. Yes, it might have had slightly less risk of a puncture, and yes I could take it off road if needed – but 10 years later neither have happened!

That said, it got me around the course in the end, and to that matter through my next few years of triathlons up to Olympic Distance, and did teach me a lot of valuable skills, the most important of which was riding with clip-in shoes, something I now cannot imagine going without.


I do have to own up to one last crime, as convinced by magazines it would save me time, I ended up buying a set of tribars for the Fury. For the uninitiated these are the extensions that go in front of your handlebars that let you lean forward and ride in a streamlined position, a must if you are on an indoor track, but about as useful as go faster stripes in my case, although I do still think they looked kind of cool before I took them off!

The Late Teens – Finally a Road Bike

The cracking point came when I started looking into longer races, my 90 km Avenger, or worse the 100 mile Velo, would be unthinkable to me on an off-road bike, so I returned to the scene of my former crime for a more suitable option – a Carrera Velos road bike. How much of the choice was down the the black and yellow colour scheme I can only guess, but it has served me well since, through over 1000 miles of training and racing.

So after nearly 40 years of riding I am finally happy with my ride, although who knows where the next decade will take me – maybe I will finally venture off that road and onto the mountain paths, the velodrome, or who knows where. Following the lockdown one thing I am hoping is to be able to ride at least part of the way into work, so hopefully those promised lands of dedicated cycle lanes will finally materialise in Birmingham, and maybe the next one will turn out to be something like a Brompton. Whatever happens there should be plenty to look forward to!

Back on the Road

Let’s not kid ourselves. Things are things are tough at the moment, certainly worse than any other time in my lifetime: if we are going to get through this with the mind intact we need to look for and celebrate the positives.

Like many others I have barely left the house for over a month now, although compared to some of my colleagues elsewhere in the world, I do feel hugely fortunate that in the UK we are at least actually ‘allowed’ to go outside once per day for our government approved exercise.

Rocky 4 Behind the Scenes | Making of Rocky IV

As someone who spent much of the recent winter training for a marathon, I am already used to pounding the local pavements on my own. Morning runs in January tended to be solitary at the best of times, only occasionally sighting other fellow lunatics who had likely also signed up for early season races in a moment of madness, but I did get to like that feeling of space and quietness, although funnily enough it is the opposite now.

The thing is, despite calling myself a triathlete, if I am honest almost all of my training is running and swimming, with my only cycling between races now indoors. Why don’t you take the bike out more often I hear you ask?

Road & Traffic Signs | Manchester (Free Quotes - 0161 776 0527)

I know there are load of great cycle paths and so on, but the honest answer is I just really don’t like riding on busy roads, dodging cars, pot holes and headphoned pedestrians who wander onto the tarmac without looking. I live within a mile of two of the busiest motorways in the country and believe me, the streets here are always packed. So I only participate in organised bike events, preferably with properly closed roads, but if not at least large enough that they will be clearly signposted for drivers to keep an eye out, and never end up riding around where I live…

Until now!

After finally accepting that there really are actually no cars out at the moment I bit the bullet and decided to dust off the bike for first time since my 100 mile Velo, just under a year ago.

Bike 4

The first ride started off a bit nervous, not quite believing I could be the only person out at 7am on a cold but sunny Sunday morning, but after not seeing another soul for in the opening 15 minutes I realised how much I had been missing out. Running is truly liberating, giving you the freedom to explore at your own pace, especially as many paths and places can only be reached on foot, but biking significantly expands your reach, providing a far greater radius to travel  which was something I have been craving in these constrained times.


A few weeks later I have been fortunate enough that the weather has held, and three rides down I am on track for more than 100 km this month, exploring roads and villages around my town I never knew existed – hilltop views, secluded streams, hidden bluebell woods and even a national nature reserve.

Bike 2

I have also started to notice some of those little things I enjoy on foot have their own counterparts on the bike:

  • A slight turn of the head when approaching a junction to get the wind out of your ears and listen for oncoming traffic (people massively underestimate the part hearing plays in riding – a major reason I never listen to music on the road)
  • That small smile of satisfaction from a perfectly timed gear change when approaching a hill as you seamlessly move into the climb, avoiding avoid the dreaded ‘clunk’ on the cassette (this might be BAU for real riders, but I still like it!)
  • The tiny extra pressure on the pedals as you hit the downhill to lift your backside a quarter inch from the saddle and alleviate the impact of any bumps as you hit top speed. One discovered out of necessity as much as anything…

So what can I say, I can consider myself a re-converted cyclist, looking forward to exploring some new parts of town for the first time – and who knows, maybe I will even carry it on!

Catching up on 2019

Bringing things up to date, 2019 was a mixed year for challenges: fewer races than usual but some new and interesting things to talk about.

From a training perspective, the big new thing at my gym last year was the release of a brand new, purpose built Blaze studio. Touted as ‘the next big thing’, Blaze is a fantastic form of HIIT – High Intensity Interval Training –  short sharp bursts to get the heart rate pounding and maximise calorie burn, while building endurance and strength.

BlazeBlaze studio

The concept is simple, a 45 minute class with 3 x 3 minute rounds in 3 different zones. Firstly a treadmill, usually set as steeply as possible with (if you are lucky) alternating sprint/walks, or otherwise brutal climbs like the training montage in Rocky 4. The middle is a strength zone with dumbbells and a bench to do anything from squats to flyes, planks to deadlifts. The last (and best) is a full length punchbag, for all kinds of kickboxing drills, punches, knees and even some crazy floor work to really de-stress.


To bring it to another level, all participants wear combat gloves and My Zone heart rate monitors (regular readers will know I am a sucker for new kit), with everyone’s performance projected onto the wall and coaches patrolling the room shouting encouragement,  over the music. Activities are targeted by zone, yellow being 80% of Max HR and Red being 90%+, with a goal to spend 12-18 minutes of the session in the red, while recovering as quickly as possible inbetween. It is massively addictive and I loved it instantly, a great way to keep up and track fitness all year round, with an unofficially competitive edge as it is near impossible not to compare your stats to others, which only pushes you on further.

blaze graph

On a slightly calmer note, I managed to get in a bit of diving last year, although not quite on the same levels as usual. This was neither the warm Caribbean sea nor the icy quarries of the midlands, but some more unusual venues. First up was an old fashioned hard-hat experience, diving indoors in one of those brass screw on helmets from back in the day as seen in films like Men of Honour, and wow did those guys have it tough. Not only did the helmet weigh an absolute ton, but the set of lead boots accompanying it ensured it was only possible to shuffle around with all the grace of a moonwalking elephant. My 15 minute experience went by in a flash though, and is highly experienced for any diver if only to realise how good we have it now!

The second part of the day was spending time in a real life decompression chamber. These things allow divers who have been to higher depths and pressures, or worse managed to get themselves DCS, aka ‘the bends’, and looks more like something you might see in a space station than hospital. In the end four of us spent half an hour simulating a deep dive to 50 metres, before the system slowly perfectly decompressed back to atmospheric pressure. And yes, all of the expected side effects did happen, from squeaky voices to nitrogen narcosis! A great experience, although hopefully one I will never have to actually do for real.

Dry Dive

Back on the racing trail it was two more familiar events that anchored the year: Velo 2  and Great Birmingham Run number 6!

The first Velo was my longest race to date and really tough, involving 8.5 hours cycling 100 miles up and down hills around Staffordshire, Worcestershire and the West side of Birmingham. This one was more of the same, but on the East side, taking in the sights of Solihull, Coventry and Warwickshire, with plenty of countryside to accompany the concrete. In fact one of the highlights was riding through the cobbled streets in the centre of Cov: who knew it was such a great looking place from that angle! 

The last race of the year was the Birmingham Run, which is really more of an annual tradition, and as mentioned the sixth in seven years (including the marathon). By now these have all blurred into one, but it is always a decent day out and supportive crowd, and I was happy enough that at least it did not tip it down like the previous year. Since October I have been ramping up my running in prep for the Marathon, moving from around 10k per week to closer to 20k by the end of the year, but more on that in future posts…

Because by far the biggest thing to happen last year was the birth of my beautiful baby daughter Isla in May!


PS. Sponsorship link https://fundraise.cancerresearchuk.org/page/james-and-the-marathon-challenge, with more to follow soon!

Welcome to Sufferlandria

After months of promising and distraction by other events it is finally time to talk about Sufferfest!


I will start off today with a bit of a Meet Cute, as I first came across Sufferfest a few years ago in a magazine (Men’s Fitness  I think), where one of the reviewers was talking about an insane new program, where people rode stationary bikes whilst watching a torturous video of cyclists riding Le Tour or something similar, and trying to keep up like some sort of computer game. At the time I was doing Olympic Triathlons and whilst I had a turbo trainer, I had never even done a spin class, but was looking to try to find ways to motivate myself to go longer, so looked into buying one of the DVDs. Sadly they were a bit out of my price range, so I thought better not to not take the risk and forgot all about it, and kept trundling along on my bike in the lounge, watching endless repeats of the training montage from Rocky IV to spur me on.

Fast forward a couple of years, and thanks to Les Mills RPM and some great instructors I have turned into a spin class addict, ensuring I do at least one session per week (preferably more),  even down to the part where I have special clipless cycling shoes especially for indoor spinning (in addition to my regular tri bike shoes) and do most of my solo bike training whilst listening to bike specific RPM tracks.

Sufferlandia motto.jpg

So I was pretty excited when I got back from an Easter holiday to discover my gym’s spin studio was being refurbed, and a new AV system being put in place which would allow ‘virtual’ spin classes, and specifically they had purchased a licence to run Sufferfest sessions, so obviously I had to give it a go so booked myself onto one of the launch classes. But what it is all about?

It turns out that there is more to it than just watching Bradley Wiggins on a big screen and pedalling as furiously as possible to keep up (although there are plenty of famous riders in the films); there is a whole back story / history within Sufferfest. Originating in the fantastically named fictional Kingdom of Sufferlandria, where riding is religion, suffering is a must if you want to achieve mastery. Only those who work the hardest, ride the fastest and climb the steepest hills are considered worthy. This is all made clear to you during the introductory video, which explains how the on screen instructions work, and gives you a scale of how hard you need to work. Having done a few different classes now, these are always different, and usually raise a few laughs, involving phrases such as’Ride like you are being chased by angry Sufferlandrian wilderbeasts’.


Those involved in the videos who support you in becoming a hero cyclist are classed as Minions, whilst non riders are given the ultimate insult of eating donuts in the rival region of Couchlandria, where hard work is shirked. There are a lot of nice little touches to add some humour to what could otherwise be a pretty painful and serious experience, such as at one point during one of the films where people might otherwise be slacking off, a door appears onscreen, and a large gentleman enters the room like a door to door salesman asking if you are from Couchlandria as you are not working hard enough!

The classes being with a fantastically overblown, James Bond style title / credits sequence, where details of what you are going to be down are interspaced with animated shapes morphing across the screen, accompanied by classical music to build up some atmosphere. Whilst this is totally irrelevant to the remainder of the class, as a massive Bond fan myself, I personally enjoy this bit, plus there is the bonus that it is the few minutes of the class where you are not in pain.


The format it actually very straightforward, with one countdown bar to show you how long you have left until the next section, one to give your cadence (pedalling speed), and one to say how hard your gear should be. This also tends to be well mapped to what you see on-screen, so when the riders start going uphill you gear up and slow down, and when they come down you can open the gas and start pushing faster. And really that is the main thing you need to go. There are other elements, such as notices to get out of the saddle for hills, and warnings that an increase is coming up (by way of an engine revving sound) but otherwise they stick to the Keep it Simple Stupid formula.

The videos / classes range from shorter 20 minute blasts, to full hour and a half marathons, and have at least a dozen different varieties, each with its own theme depending on the workout target. Examples of ones I have tried include ‘Do As You’re Told’ which involves a race where you are followed by a support vehicle who tells you to speed up or slow down during certain parts of the event depending on team tactics to practice your endurance and sprint skills, ‘Climbing Angels’, where you complete sections of the Giro d’Italia, which unsurprisingly involves a lot of hill climbs, and others with names like ‘The Wretched’, ‘Long Scream’ and ‘A Very Dark Place’ which I will leave to your imagination.


One moment I particularly enjoyed during Do As You’re Told was when the guys in the car following received a text (from Dr von Agony) saying it did not look like you were working hard enough (with a cat meme and everything !). It was also quite a nice moment when at one point you got a virtual puncture and a few minutes rest!

As you would expect, there is music throughout the films, which all seems to be either custom-made for the videos, or at least non-mainstream, as I have not recognised any of the bands or tracks so far. This is actually good, as it means the music does not distract you too much as the tracks change every couple of minutes, so you don’t find yourself singing along. The tunes tend to be on the heavy side, either hard rock or hip hop, and whilst they do not match the pace perfectly as they do in say an RPM class where you could track your speed even with your eyes closed, they do at least fit the mood of whatever you are following on-screen, such as sprinting or powerclimbing.

There are also some interesting and even unexpected extras in the classes. Th first one I did for example had a whole separate five minute docu-film at the end, as a warmdown of sorts, about a young lad in the Lake District who was trying to ride fast enough to set off a speed camera on a quiet country road. It showed various clips of him riding and making improvements to his bike, clothing, helmet and so on, each time getting slightly faster and more aerodynamic to try to beat the camera. Totally irrelevant to the 45 minutes that preceded it, but actually fascinating as a study of speed, which most cyclists find themselves interested in at some point.

So is it any good? Well as with everything there are positives and negatives. Because it is automated it makes great use of the cycle studio at my gym, taking the number of classes from around 20 per week, to nearly 100, meaning you can get in and do some extra training almost whenever you want. Because it is all pre-programmed in and automated, the classes will also always start and finish bang on time, which is even better if you are in a rush, although it has meant that on occasions the projection screen suddenly drops down during the cooldown in my regular spin class, much to our instructor’s annoyance.


The videos on screen are really high quality, and make the most of he fantastic locations they feature, most notably the Tour, Giro and Vuelta (in France, Italy & Spain respectively), with stunning views of mountain tops, alpine forests and seaside cliffs to motivate you. This is countered by the fact that you lose the element of imagination you can get in a spin class when imagining climbing a volcano or riding through a desert landscape (or is that just me?!) Obviously there are those who are against all indoor cycling and say ‘why not just go ride outside’ but this really does make it feel like you are taking part in these glamorous and famous races, that in reality would never actually happen to most people. On that note, when you do it in a fairly full studio it feels even more like you are in a peloton as you hear others whirring around you, although it does still work well when you are on your own and want a bit of (virtual) company for your ride.


Although it is available to riders of all abilities, the fact it is not directly ‘coached’ does mean it is more suitable for experienced riders, who know what they are doing with gears and bike set ups, particularly as there is no stretching at the end. Also whilst the jokes and other motivation (or beating with a stick!) does encourage you along, it can’t compete with having an experienced instructor in the room who can offer advice, tailor the class to your targets, or even slow down if you are struggling (and of course speed up if you are slacking). For those who have not done any indoor riding before, I would recommend going to some normal spin classes before, to learn how to properly set up your bike to avoid injuries and ensure maximum effort, before going into something like this, but of course it is open to anyone.


Having done most of these now, I would say if the opening few paragraphs of this piece sound like your idea of fun, you would love this kind of thing, but if Couchlandria sounds more your thing then that is understandable!

Next time, Sufferfest goes big, with the ‘National Day of Suffering’…

I am Isoman

It was about halfway through the third lap of the 5 km swim where I really started to question what on earth had I been thinking to sign up for this. Now I know I have done some long bike rides and even reasonably long runs in the past, but this was brand new territory for me, and the voices in my head were asking some tough questions, chiefly: Who in their right mind signs up for a race that badges itself as ‘harder than Ironman’?

As I mentioned in my last blog, it was just over 12 months ago that I first came across the Isoman, with this ‘new kid on the block’ race debuting in one of my local parks. It has one of those concepts that is so simple you wonder why no one has done it before. In short, most long distance triathlons are heavily weighted towards the bike leg, so competitors who specialise in the swim part of the sport do not benefit as much as they should. This goes back to its origins in Hawaii, when Naval Officers decided to see which of them was the fittest, and set up a race based on the 2.4 mile Waikiki swim, 112 mile Oahu bike ride and 26 mile Honolulu marathon.

Pie Chart Pie Chart

The Isoman corrects this by reducing the cycle element and (significantly) upping the swim, to create an event which (in theory) should see each leg taking roughly the same amount of time to complete. Being someone who considers themselves to be a marginally better swimmer (more by default than anything) this ought to be the perfect race for me, and with the added incentive of an early bird discount I was booked on less than 24 hours later.

Isoman Is Coming

Race Day – 2 July 2016

As usual I had been watching the weather forecast like a hawk for the last 10 days, and amazingly enough it turned out to be alright, with a reasonably sunny day forecast, although anyone reading this in the UK will know that does not necessarily mean much! It had tipped it down the night before during the pre-race briefing, which did not help with the nerves as the last thing you want before a bike ride in particular is a wet road.

Start time for my race was a very civilised 9.30 am, meaning I did not actually have to leave my house until after 7.30, a massive bonus compared to a pre-4.00 am wake up at Ironman last year. The lunatics folks doing the full Isoman had already started their swim, setting off at 7 am, aiming to be more than half-way through by the time my lot got in. The half-Isoman wave I was in was actually fairly small, just 48 of us, with no age group or gender separation, just all in at the same time, which I was much happier with.

Isoman Transition

The transition area was a decent size with nice roomy bike racks, personally labelled for each competitor. I was pretty pleased with my kit in mostly matching black and yellow, which happen to be both my school and rugby team’s colours. As usual I had a wander down to spy on other people’s kit, and noticed that as usual, my bike was worth less than most people’s wheels. I should have known really when my car was one of the only ones in the car park with a bike rack on it – all the others had carefully taken their bikes apart and put them in the car rather than outside, possibly wrapping them in cotton wool at the same time. At least that is what I would do it my bike was worth that much! With everything set up I wandered down to the jetty to get ready to start a seriously long swim.

5 km Swim – 2 hours 22 mins

Yes, you read that right. All I can say is imagine if I had been doing the 10 km… The first thing I noticed when I got into the water in full wetsuit was that it was actually surprisingly warm. And whilst that can sometimes be a slight worry in open water (let’s not go there), it was genuinely not too bad – around 18 degrees I believe – I have certainly swum a lot colder. The visibility was less good, possibly a bit churned up by the earlier swimmers, in scuba terms it would be about 2 inches and very murky. Good thing I had been practising my sighting in the pool. Not wanting to waste too much energy given what lay ahead I stayed fairly still until I worked out why everyone was swimming to the other side of the lake, as this was a deep water start.

isoman swim

Fortunately, and I guess understandably given the distance we were looking at, this was easily the most laid back start lines I have ever experienced. Gone were the usual elbows and feet to climb over each other, in favour of a nice courteous spread of bodies, as people decided there was enough to contend with in the swim itself rather than expend unnecessary force fighting for a few seconds gap. Obviously many of the people who had signed up for this fancied themselves as more swim specialists, so we took off fairly quickly and a lot of them soon pulled away as we spread out.

Isoman Lake

The first lap was a bit of a feeler, as although I knew the park well, I was not sure what it would be like, how best to navigate the buoys and so on. It was a fairly simple clockwise loop with an island in the middle to swim around, and I had the benefit of having a load of faster swimmers in front of me to follow so managed to not get lost.

At the end of the first lap came one of the bits I had been looking forward to most of all – the pit stop! Now every race swim  I have ever done before is done in one continual go without stops. In fact one of my favourite triathlon stories involves multiple World Champion Chrissie Wellington and her legendary coach Brett Sutton, who loses his rag during a training session when he spots a swim bottle by the pool, lambasting his team as you can’t have a drink during a [3.6 km] Ironman swim, so you should not get used to it in training!

But this was a 5 km swim, and we could. Not only that, but they had the triathlon equivalent of a swim-up-bar, that you could stop at on every lap, perch your feet on a rocky surface, and gorge yourself on drinks, gels, bananas and so on. On my first lap I was reasonably fresh but thought I would give it a go, so just had a bit of the carb drink I had set near the edge before setting off. It is amazing how thirsty you get when swimming for a long time, and you can understand how sailors end up going crazy with a huge thirst when surrounded by water you can’t drink.

Isoman Swim up

On later laps I was a bit more adventurous, downing a glass of coke (apparently it kills off some of the germs in the lake) and piece of flapjack. The other cool thing was you could sort of dive off the ledge and under the floating arch that marked each lap, which felt a bit like when the pros have multi-lap swims where they climb up and dive off a pontoon each time: very professional.

After a surprisingly easy first lap I thought I was in the zone, until my brain started dealing with the monotony by mentally ticking off each landmark as I swum passed them:

  • Further than an Olympic triathlon swim
  • Further than a half-Ironman swim
  • Further than I have ever swum in open water
  • Further than a full Ironman swim
  • Further than I have ever swum before. Ever.
  • And then still going…

I encountered the last of these around the end of my third lap, and as I started this blog, it was where I started to get a bit scared. By now my shoulders and sides were really starting to ache, after literally thousands of strokes. Trying to do anything to distract myself I did another thing I sometimes do in races and worked out how many strokes I would be doing. In a pool I usually swim around 18 strokes per 25 metre lap, although that includes a push-off the wall. This would be more, although my wetsuit would make it a bit easier too. I decided 20 strokes per 25 metres would be fairly conservative, so at around 80% this meant I would be doing at least 4000 strokes of pure front crawl along the way. They is a lot of reps, and went some way to explaining the pain.

Well, that and the whack in the eye I took from a lady with pink goggles who had mysteriously slowed down in front of me and managed to somehow elbow me in the face which any other time would have resulted in a shiny black eye. Fortunately my goggles managed to cushion the blow, so other than a  a quick heads up for her to apologise, we both moved on and put it down to a racing incident, the cold water doing its job of numbing any ocular pain I had coming.

As I had suspected the weather was a bit hit and miss. It had started in perfect sunshine and I was grateful for my tinted goggles, which not only looked the business but reduced the glare. At this point it had all changed, and at one point I noticed it had started raining, not really a concern for half-drowned rats in the lake, although I did realise my bike kit was going to be soaking wet when I got around to putting it on, cursing myself for not covering it up like I had planned earlier.

By now the quarter Isoman triathlon guys had also started, and I began to be overtaken by orange capped torpedoes, some of them looking like they had literally been shot from a submarine such was their speed through the water. Still, having been spread out from the rest of my field after 3 laps it was nice to have a bit of company, and after convincing myself not to give in and push for the final lap, I got far enough around that I had no option but to push for the end, the added incentive that I really needed to stop at the portaloo in transition giving me some extra speed towards the finish line. After giving it my all for over two hours I found myself staggering to shore and up the slope into transition. And that was a third of the race done…

tired swimmer

I know how this guy felt…

Transition One – 9 minutes 51

Given that they had already played with standard triathlon rules in extending the swim, the organisers had decided to break with convention on the inbetween bits too. Rather than the usual scrum you get with mer-folk leaping out of the water and straight onto a bike, this had a whole 8 minute window built in, to give a chance to get back, dry off, get some chow down and even use the facilities if needed. I made the most of it doing all of the above (I noticed someone in the full race took nearly half an hour which must have included a kip as well – can’t blame them) before trundling off with bike in tow. After managing on my third attempt to get my tired leg over and clip in, I was off.

50 km Bike -2 hours 6 minutes

There are pros and cons to taking part in a race close to home. The good thing was that I knew at least part of the route, given that I go past it on most weekends to do my weekly shop and had scouted a section of it the night before after the briefing. The bad thing is knowing just how busy that first few miles of road can get, particularly on a Saturday lunchtime, which I will admit had been giving me a few sleepless nights. Whilst my last race had the massive advantage of being large enough to have closed roads, this one most certainly did not, so it was with some trepidation that I steered my bike out of the park and onto the dual carriageway to head into town.

Amazingly I managed to join without any problems, walking my legs up by pedalling hard to get into a decent gap. The next dodgy part was also incident free, as we went uphill and onto a large roundabout, where again a fortuitous gap opened up in the traffic and saw me speed off in my exit (I did check back to ensure it was not one of those ‘gaps’ which leads to  a major pile-up. The last part of the opening section involved a sort of corkscrew climb away from the dual carriageway which I had been just as worried I might not have had the legs for after the swim, but remembering a tactic I was to employ many times during the ride, I accelerated into the climb as much as I could, to create enough momentum to get close enough to the top before I really had to push.

isoman bike

After those first few miles things changed a lot, as we started to come out of town and into the wilds. It was a massive change going from Redditch, a town which could be described in parts as a ‘concrete miracle’, to some of the most beautiful landscapes in the country in the Worcestershire countryside. There was also a real lack of cars, and the next half hour or so went incredibly smoothly, as I ate away at the distance and looked like I would be on for a cracking time.

stoke prior windmill

Of course things never actually turn out that way, and around the halfway mark things started to get tougher. First up was the unravelling of my bike nutrition strategy: I had planned on a two hour race, with a carb gel every 20 minutes (caffeine gels on the hour marks), and had two 500 ml electrolyte drinks. As I hit the hour mark I realised I had been concentrating so much on the ride I had only consumed one gel, and still had half of my first drink bottle left alongside a very dry mouth, leading to me downing most of the rest of it and getting a nice stomach ache as a reward.

The reason I had been concentrating so much, is that the even had a bit of a reputation for signage problems. In the first race the year before, there had been a totally separate bike race going on locally on the same day, and somehow both had managed to put up yellow arrows, causing chaos as knackered triathletes ended up riding miles out of their way whilst accidentally following the wrong lot of signs. Luckily the I did not hear of anything similar happening this year, but it still meant a lot of worrying when there was a long gap between route markers. This became even more pronounced when we split from the full distance course and I lost sight of any other racers, leaving it just down to me and my thoughts.

Isoman elevation

Isoman Elevation Profile

It was around then that I realised other races I had done previously had described the bike route as ‘fairly flat’, which ended up actually being quite hilly (see Ironman Staffs for example). This one had described the course as ‘undulating’, which I had not thought much of, but now realised this meant ‘very steep in parts’. I dread to think what those which actually admit the course is ‘challenging’ (the preferred nomenclature) other than I assume you have to pack  a set of ice axes… Oh yeah, and it started to rain as well.

Now I have a confession to make in that I rarely ride my bike outdoors, except for racing. Whilst I have racked up hundreds of hours doing RPM and spin classes at the gym, I had not actually used my bike since Ironman last June. Some people will probably think I am daft for that, but to be honest I am not really that much of a fan of weaving through traffic, particularly given how many incidents I see on the other side of things when in my car (not caused by me of course).

Confession number two, is that despite a lot of racing I don’t really know how to use my bike gears properly. I head people go on about ‘the big ring’ and so on, but I have no real idea, all I do is mess around with the gears until I find the most comfortable position and pedal away. If I get to a hill and it becomes tough, I change down until things work again and keep moving, making a note for the next time around. I am sure if I knew more about them I would be able to do more, but maybe something to learn for the future.

cycle hills.jpg

The combination of these factors – hills, nutrition, lack of time in the saddle, and potential misuse of gears – seemed to really take an impact on my back around the 25 km mark, and I had to keep changing position to avoid being in agony, particularly as I knew I still had the half marathon to come. I am still not sure why it felt so tough, given I had done two much longer 90 km rides for the Avenger & Ironman,so I can only put it down to tiredness from the swim. My hill tactic of speeding into the base had actually been working pretty well, and I even managed to get to the top of one particularly long but steady climb of about 2 miles without putting a foot down, but after going over yet another dip I saw one of those mountains cyclists must have nightmares about, and knew that would be it.

To my delight however, there was already someone at the base of the hill who looked like they were about to climb off. I soon realised it was the person I had been chatting to before the race as we were next to each other in transition, and she had been debating whether to use her wheelchair or crutches in the swim. Yes, those of you who thought this was a tough challenge, something more to think about. She had obviously kicked my ass in the swim, but seemed to be struggling more on the bike leg.

Pedalling up I played the knight in shining armour (well cyclist covered in sweat on a cheap old bike) and offered my assistance, but it turned out she was just having a rest before attempting the hill. Now seemed as good a time as ever to switch to plan B, so I hopped off and suggested walking up the hill. This was where I employed my secret weapon, my mountain bike shoes. Heavier than the proper racing shoes I assume everyone else was wearing, these have a big advantage in one area, that they have deeper tread so make walking up a road easier – a good thing as I seem to find myself doing it fairly regularly during long races.

salted caramel

After checking my companion was fine, I legged it up to the top of the hill, using the opportunity to knock back another energy gel (salted caramel – mmm) and some more drink, before hopping back on to make the most of the descent on the other side. From there, things finally started to look up again, as my back had eased up and I was full fueled. Whilst in the past it felt like every time we came across a sign pointing towards Redditch we were turning the opposite way, this time we actually began to head towards home, and the last 15 km or so went past in a bit of a blur. Before I knew it I was trundling back into the park and home to safety.

Transition Two – 4 minutes 21

Isoman T2

After racking up over 4 hours of pain so far, I had a fantastic moment getting back into transition as I noticed my wife had come to watch the race, having been unsure earlier that morning. Given this was a fairly low key race, it was fantastic to have some support, and seeing her there gave me some real motivation as I get into transition and changed into my run shoes. As before the organisers had played with the rules and given a 5 minute window for transition, so it was great to know I did this in less.

Half Marathon – 2 hours 38 minutes

After the isolation of the bike course, it was great to have some faces for the first part of the run at least. Having done a couple of Parkruns there earlier in the year I was again familiar with some of the route, the majority of it being on paths ways and therefore easier to run on.

Surprisingly I always look forward to the half-marathon in a long race. I say surprising as I am definitely not a runner; the main reason really is it means the end is approaching! If also at least gives some potential for rest when needed – on a swim or bike you can’t really stop and there is a limit to how much you can slow down without drowning or being run over – but on in a race like this I think it is perfectly excusable if you need to take time out for a bit of a walk / hobble. It is nothing like a normal half or even full marathon, where you would usually come in fresh, having done some stretches and perhaps a proper meal first. In this you have just dragged your carcass around a lake for a few hours before ragging it around the countryside on a bike for a few more, so there is no shame in taking it easy to make sure of a finish.

One tactic I learned from Ironman was to ‘walk the feed stations’, in other words don’t try to be a marathon hero and grab a drinks bottle on the move from an outstretched arm, but slow down, take in what you need and keep moving, but nice and slowly. This way you get a bit of a break without loosing too much of your rhythm, and get to actually drink / stuff your face without spilling too much of it everywhere.

Another thing you are always told about racing is never try new kit on the day, but I did have one thing I was doing for the first time, my new elastic lock laces. Any non-racers, just skip ahead now as this may well be the most boring thing you have ever read. For the rest of us, how have I not got around to these before! They are amazing. I have always had problems having to stop / start to keep tying or tucking in my laces before, but these were nice and snug, easy to get on, and did not need adjusting once during the run. Lovely stuff.

lock laces

Lock laces in action (not mine)

The run course was mainly on tarmac, but had a slightly strange first kilometre off-road, winding through a bit of scrub land, presumably so they could make up the distance. It was far from my favourite part of the run, although a nice couple did offer me a handful of Jelly Babies along the way, and I was more than happy to break the ‘don’t take sweets from strangers’ rule I learned as a child. It was interesting having others on the course, as all my other runs had been done on closed pathways. Being a Saturday afternoon the park was full of families, most of whom were happy to step aside from the sweaty lunatics running towards them, although of course there were always a few kids who had to be awkward and stay in your way, resulting in a number of last minute leaps off the main path.

Isoman run map

The rest of the route was ok, although not the most spectator friendly. You may be able to see the words ‘Industrial Estate’ featuring prominently on my run map above, which says it all really. We did two loops for the half marathon, starting off by transition where everyone was watching, before going deeper into the middle of nowhere until I started to get that feeling from the bike that I might have missed a turn and could be going the wrong way. On the plus side, it was mainly flat, so aside from the pain which had worked its way down my body from my shoulders on the swim, my back on the bike, and was now concentrating itself around my knees, quads and hammies.

Although I said I liked the bike, the one problem is it gives you too much time to think. On the swim I tend to go into a bit of a trance and filter out any thoughts (which is actually quite nice), whilst on the bike I tend to be thinking about navigation and avoiding any other vehicles. The run though just had me thinking ‘what on earth was had I been thinking signing up for this?’. As the pain got worse the race was beginning to look about as good an idea as Ross Geller’s leather trousers, and it felt at times like I was wearing them too. Cruelly the run was in a sort of figure of eight, so the loop took us back towards the transition area, before sweeping off to the side to add even more distance before the halfway point.

When I did finally finish my first lap it was great to see my wife and some supporters again, and probably good for her to know I was still alive after a lap that must have felt as long for her as for me. This was not exactly the most spectator friendly course, as aside from a few minutes at the beginning, middle and end, you had no chance to see your family of whoever was cheering you on. I did prefer the fact that both Ironman and the Avenger had three laps, so whilst it meant a bit more time going over the same ground, you felt a bit more motivated along the way.

On the plus side, unlike the Avenger, I was not going to be doing the last lap on my own this time, as there were still plenty of people on the course doing either the full, half or quarter Isoman. They did have a system to help identify people, based on Gold, Silver & Bronze, although as they could not get swimming caps in those colours it was actually Yellow, White & Orange. This meant opportunity for some smugness when you overtook orange people who had been doing a lot less, but equally additional pain when a yellow runner zoomed past, considering what they had been through already.

No Pain

I remember a lot less of the second lap, although that may be down to my brain having mentally blocked it out. At one point I passed a guy wearing a ‘one hundred marathons’ t-shirt, and later discovered this was his 107th. To be honest he looked nearly a hundred himself, and fair play, anyone who can do that number and race a course like this at that age deserves huge respect.

I know I had to do a fair bit of run / walk along the way, probably a bit of staggering and a lot of swearing too. As I have mentioned on here before, my own way of motivating myself is to repeat the ‘No Pain’ line from Rocky IV. Under normal circumstances I keep it to myself, saying it over in my head, but this was not normal circumstances and I found myself shouting it out loud, mainly when I was on a stretch on my own, but at times I am sure there were some startled runners around me.

Finish – 7 hours 21 minutes 56 seconds

Isoman Finish

Finally though, I was on the last section of the race, the final straight mirroring the end of Parkrun. As I got closer to the end zone I could hear the band playing on the stage getting louder, and caught a glimpse of my wife on the line. I even managed a smile as I was able to tell the lady standing on the lap splitter that it was my final one this time, so I could turn left and head towards the finish, taking in a few cheers and high fives down the chute. One massive hug later and it was finally over!

Isoman After

So how did it rate compared to the other longer races I have done: The Avenger & Ironman? Different, for sure. Looking back, I actually really enjoyed the swim, as whilst it hurt a heck of a lot, I was pleased with the rhythm I got into and actually pretty happy with my time. All three races had fantastic bike routes, and despite the fact this was almost half the distance of the other two it seemed to hurt even more, although that could just be short-term memory failure, and possibly due to a different focus in my training this time, The main let down in this one was the run, with a bit of an ugly course in parts, and less chance for supporters, but in the end you are always going to be limited to the location. After all, what do you expect to see from a Torquay hotel bedroom window?!

So what next? A well-earned break I think, before some thoughts about how to follow this one up. In the meantime, I am happy to say I can now call myself an Isoman!


I am Iron Man!

After months of build up and years of waiting I have finally done it – I am Ironman! Here is how the day went…


They don’t mess around in the Ironman world, challenging your mind and body before the event even starts! Having spent around 7 hours registering and sorting transitions the day before, race day begins harshly with a 3.15 am alarm call, which feels like it has only been moments since I managed to finally got to sleep. Dragging myself out of bed I pull on my tri-suit and down a bowl of porridge (which turns to be the closest I come to solid food for nearly 12 hours).

The journey to Shugborough is actually a lot easier than expected, probably because no sane people are out roaming the country lanes of Staffordshire at 4 am on a Sunday, other than an ever-increasing convoy of competitors as I get closer. It makes a nice change beginning a race without having to sort transition there and then, so I am able to park up and jump straight on a shuttle bus to the lakeside start.

The mood on the bus is pretty quiet, so I take the chance to get in the mood with a bit of the Rocky soundtrack (the only way to prepare for a race!) as we approach. Once we arrive though, things began to kick off with a really buzzing atmosphere and I am staggered at the amount of people here. My last race of this distance had 250 people; this has over ten times that number!

As I wander into transition to check my bike is still there from the night before the first person I see is one of the pros, Will Clarke, part of the GB Tri team at the Beijing Olympics. And then the man himself, Javier Gomez appears, looking absolutely freezing in a jacket and beanie hat – Galicia this ain’t! Everyone is suddenly super excited, and to be fair he takes it all in his stride, happy to pose for pictures with anyone willing to approach. He is about 50 odd places away from me (in a field of 2700 bikes this is practically next door) so close I can see what type of gels he has on his bike, and for a moment I feel a little embarrassed at the fact my steed is one of the cheapest in the whole park. but actually that is what this is all about. As I have said before, in how many other events around the world can you race against your heroes?

As the clock counts down we make our way to the swim start. In typical Ironman style there is loads of music, and AC/DC’s Thunderstruck seems to be the de regueur song of choice. I chat to some of the other guys in wetsuits & green swim caps who are about to set off with me, and most of them are also doing this for the first time, so there is a mixture of nervousness and excitement, no one really knowing what to do so we just shuffle about in our bare feet. trying to stay warm. The announcer introduces the pros one by one, they make their way to the edge and a minute or so later are off, meaning only one thing: It is my turn now. As they say in Bad Boys – This shit just got real!

Swim – 41.26

Staffs Swim

There are so many people around me in the water I barely notice the claxon signalling the start, but there is no way of missing what was just a few moments before a relatively calm lake, becoming a washing machine on full spin, as 500 arms and 500 legs simultaneously start splashing. Before the start I had planned to try to get to the side to avoid the worst of the scrum, but once I got in the water  I was too caught up in the moment and missed any opportunity, and as a result found myself right in the middle of everything – Nothing for it but to get the head down and go for it!

It takes around a minute just to get through the starting buoys and into some clear water, but with most of the nervous swimmers hanging back and most people looking to pace the swim, we all find a little space eventually. I guess it is the adrenaline but I feel like I  am flying away, and although I am conscious of being whacked by various flailing limbs, do not register any pain. At one point someone switches to breaststroke far too early, and as he effectively puts the brakes on right in front of me I end up doing a flying head-butt into his ribs. Nothing I could have done, so I shrug it off and continue, doubtless him doing did the same and thinking twice about stopping in the middle of everyone space next time.

After about 5 minutes I realise my first mistake, in that having expecting a cloudy day I am wearing clear goggles rather than my tinted ones, so as the sun beams down from a perfect blue sky I can see absolutely nothing on my right side except its glare. This is bearable on the first half of the swim, but makes things a lot trickier after we turn as I can no longer see the turning buoy’s properly so have to rely on watching the other swimmers to ensure I am heading the right way. At one point one of the yellow buoys actually seems to be getting further away from me and I fear I must be swimming backwards, until I realise it is actually the race leader from the wave that set off 10 minutes after ours, who has already caught us and is working his way through our group…

It is not unusual to feel very tired towards the latter stages of open water swims; remember this is nothing like a pool swim, as you have no opportunity to touch the sides and rest, or even ease off as if you do slow down someone will just cannonball into you as mentioned earlier. There is also the cold to deal with, the slight discomfort of wearing a wetsuit and good old-fashioned exhaustion from swimming. But I have none of this here. The chilly 16 degree water feels like a bath to me, and looking back I honestly do not remember feeling particularly tired. You also lose all track of time, and given this is a single loop race with no direct line of sight to the finish line it is hard to know exactly where I am, and I can not tell at points if I have been going for 5 minutes or half an hour.

Finally though, the finish rises above the horizon, the unmistakable sight of a huge inflatable Ironman arch, and I haul myself up the slipway and onto my feet and the next stage.

T1 – 7.22

This is by far the longest transition I have ever done, in fact it was almost as long as the swim in my last triathlon (despite the fact my time was actually one of the faster ones for this leg of the race). To explain why, it starts with a 250 metre run from the swim exit to the transition tent, across a mixture of terrain from gravel to grass, which does not do my already frozen feet any good. From there I have to locate my transition bag on a rack of thousands which is not the easiest in a half-dazed state, change out of my wetsuit into my bike gear, and then hand back the swim stuff to be transported back for me. The krypton factor had nothing on this sort of mental and physical challenge!

Having handed my transition bag in the night before I  discover I have made all the usual mistakes such as forgetting to unzip my bike top in advance and then being unable to do it with my icicle fingers, so I have to force my head through the gap like the rhino giving birth in Ace Ventura. As with my goggles earlier, I have made the same mistake with my eye wear: my yellow, light-enhancing glasses making the sunshine about ten times brighter than it already is, ready to test my retinas for the next few hours. Once ready I run out the other side to search for my bike amongst the two and a half thousand others, and make my way onto the next part of the course.

Bike – 3.48.17

Staffs Bike

The first thing that stands out to me on the bike course is the amazing closed roads. Now I have completed plenty of triathlons and the bit that always scares me is having to dodge traffic, with cars who tend to either hover behind you like a crazed stalker, or zoom past in full boy racer mode. And as for lorries, well they just do the latter! But we are extremely fortunate in this race to have the roads shut off for us, providing all the space we need, and giving me a massive confidence boost which I am able to translate into a bit of extra speed.

I tend to do most of my bike training indoors, and for some reason always forget how to use the gears on my bike properly, so it takes about 30 minutes or so of fiddling and clunking about until I settle on the best gears for hills and flats, but after a while I get into my rhythm and the first third of the race goes along at a fair pace. At this point I realise my third mistake of the day (after the goggles and sunglasses), as the cycling gloves I painstakingly pulled on in T1 turn out to be on the wrong hands. This means the soft gel padded bit is on the back of my hands, and the thin (aka useless) bit is doing nothing to protect my palms from chafing.

I do however get  lot of love for my Pink Floyd cycling top (see above), mainly from blokes of a certain age to be fair, although given the triathlon demographics in this country that accounts for a fair proportion of the field, and despite the fact it is dark (side of the moon) coloured, I never feel over-hot wearing it.

I like to try to follow some personal rules on the bike, and one of them is you really should not get off and walk, but unfortunately I have to break this a few times. The first of these is actually not my fault, as on one of the earlier hills we hit near the start, whilst my legs are still fresh enough to conquer it, the guy in front of me falls off. This means I immediately have to do the same to avoid a massive pile up appearing on You Tube later, but it makes me lose all the speed I had been carrying into the hill, and I have no chance of getting going again. So I have to push the bike up to the top, although fortunately it is only about 20 metres or so until I am going again.

Bilthfield Reservoir

The second is more down to me, and occurs about two-thirds of the way through, in a place I now know is Blithfield Reservoir. The view from the hilltop approach is probably my favourite in the whole race, and I even slow down on purpose on the bridge in the middle to take it in, but I should have known better, as in triathlons what goes down, must come up again. And so we do, with an almighty steep climb straight after (I know it looks flat in the picture above but take my word on this!) and after holding out for over two and a half hours my legs finally decide they had enough and cramp up on me. As a result I have to swerve off course and dismount, and spend about five minutes pushing myself to the top of the hill. I even question whether I am hallucinating, as the solitary supporter cheering me on is dressed in a full Luigi (from Super Mario Bros) costume!

Fortunately after that there is a nice long downhill section which allows my legs to recover and gets me through into the Cannock Chase park section, which is just as stunning as the reservoir. Inevitably there is another hill though (as Javier Gomez later agreed in his winner’s speech, it was NOT a flat course!) and inevitably I find a new muscle group in my legs to get cramp in, which  results in further few minutes pushing my bike to the top.

This time though I have the advantage, as I know what goes up, must come down, and after a fantastic lap around the park filled with cheering spectators, hit the fastest downhill descent of the day on a nice wide, empty road. Checking my GPS I am clocking over 50 km/h, the fastest I have ever ridden by some way! I really feel like I am flying, and within a few minutes I find myself inside the grounds of Shugborough, passing my car in the car park (always worth checking it is still there!) and in sight of transition…

T2 – 5.05

… but was I taking my eye off the ball too soon? You may have seen the pro’s on TV approaching their bike transition line, unclipping and standing on one foot to coast in, but mine is not quite so graceful as my leg has other ideas and treats me to another massive dose of cramp – right in front of all the spectators! Not being able to come off the bike properly I have to do a slow motion crash into the barrier to be able to stop myself falling off and potentially ending the race prematurely, until a marshal appears and holds the bike steady for me to dismount. Using my saddle as a makeshift crutch I then stagger into transition, calf still in agony from cramp, manage to hang my bike up to move on into the tent.

The rest of the transition is a bit of a blur, as I again have to locate my kit bag (red this time rather than blue) before collapsing into a chair to try to change into my trainers. Unbelievably I am back out and on my feet relatively quickly, with just the half-marathon to go between me and eternal glory.

Run – 2.35.01

Staffs Run

This is my fourth ever half-marathon, and I have to say I am actually very pleased with my time considering how knackered I an right from the start. Partly because that cramp I acquired getting off my bike not only refuses to go away as the race goes on, but ends up staying with me for the next 48 hours, and the rest is probably my body getting revenge for the general punishment I inflicted on myself today. I am not sure how many people reading have run a half-marathon with cramp right from the start, but take my word for it, it does not help. As a result, the first lap in particular is more of a hobble at times, but as the race goes on I make myself ignore the pain and manage to get up a reasonable pace. About 30 minutes in my Garmin battery packs in (always good to know I can outlast a watch!) and I lose the ability to track my speed, although perhaps is is part of the reason I later finish about 10 minutes faster than I had planned.

Unbelievably for the third time in the race I had the wrong eye-wear, as having switched to dark sunglasses in transition the sun began to hide behind clouds, meaning I had to keep lifting them up to make sure I could see where I was going at points in the course – Hopefully this will be the last time I do a split transition race!

As before though, my running top proves to be a massive hit. I bought it last year for the Avenger but never ended up wearing it due to the heat, but there was no way I could leave it out today. After all, if you can’t wear an Iron Man top in an Ironman race, when can you wear it! Most of the other competitors are in serious running gear or club tops (this is not a place for people dressed as fridges or juggling footballs) so I am pleased I have something that is both functional and fun. The supporters certainly loved it, especially the kids who all gave me extra cheers whenever I pass. I just hope I have not shattered any of their illusions that Tony Stark might not quite be as fit as they thought he was!

As with the bike course, we have all been expecting a nice flat route, and it starts well with a lovely trek around the stunning grounds of the estate with thousands of my / Gomez’s screaming fans. From there we run into the adjoining village, before facing a hill around 1 km long which was less welcome. That said, although I walk a fair bit of lap 1 due to my leg, when I return on laps 2 & 3 I find I am able to jog up the hill and then really step on the gas as we descend on the other side. The course then winds its way back into the grounds and back to the start again for the later loops.

Having survived exclusively on carb drinks and gels throughout the race, it suddenly hits me about halfway through the run that I have barely eaten all day, and in that instant I transform from being too busy to think about food, to absolutely ravenous. The problem is there is not much food on offer on the run course, so despite feeling hungry like the wolf, the only thing available is half a small banana at one of the stations that I only pass once per lap. Thinking back exactly the same thing happened on the Avenger, so as a mental note to self I will need to bring some extra solid food with me on my next long distance run!

The atmosphere on the run is truly fantastic, and I spent a lot of time chatting to the others around me as we run together which turn out to be some of my best memories of the day. There are so many great people there, and with over 60% of the field Iron Virgins (first timers) and everyone is massively pumped by this point in the race, knowing they have met the cut off times and are on track to complete the course. My favourite moment is at one of the last water stations, where the guy running with me is so hot he ignores the cups being held out and runs to the main table, picks up the large jug of water and tips the whole thing over his head in an effort to cool down. I almost pop a rib laughing!

Finish – 7.17.12

Staffs Finish Line

Everyone talked in the build up about how the finish of an Ironman event is amazing, and they could not have been more right. Unlike my last race of this distance, where the only people who were still there when I finished were my wife, my sister and a few marshals packing things away whilst looking at their watches, there are hundreds of people lining the finishing chute, with a mini-stadium on either side, loads of music and the commentators half-way down calling out your name as you approach. I still can not quite believe the time I am on for, some 40 minutes faster than last year, proving that all that training over the last 18 months has been worth it.

Ironman Staffs Medal

Finishing is an unbelievable feeling, easily the best individual sporting achievement I have ever done, and in those few moments running down the finish chute and crossing the line, the stress of the build up in the months, weeks and days before the race, and all the pain I have incurred today is gone. I cannot stop smiling as I receive my finishers medal and hear those immortal words, “Congratulations, you are not an Ironman”!

This is It!

In less than 12 hours from now I will be standing on the edge of a lake, about to enter into a crazy 8 hour triathlon, which will push me right to the limit of my abilities. Yes, it is Ironman Time!

Ironman Badge

After all the admin panic I have talked about earlier this week I am now at the point where I just need to turn up and race. Today was pretty hard work though, a proper 7 hour day nearly as much time involved preparing for the race as it will take to run it. I have been out (with my very patient wife!) between 10 am and 5 pm: driving to the venue, queue to get in, registering, being briefed, setting up for T2, driving to the swim, hiking through a forest into T1 to rack my bike, and finally being able to come home. And all in the pouring rain! But enough of that, the main thing is now to look forward.

It will come sooner than I realise too, as I have just set my alarm for 3.15 am tomorrow. Yes, you read that correctly, 3.15!! This is to allow enough time to get ready, have some porridge, drive to the venue (again), get a shuttle bus to the lake, drop off my final bits in transition, and start the race!

For anyone who is interested you will (well might, I have not actually tried it myself) be able to watch the race and track my progress (athlete number 56) here: http://www.ironman.com/triathlon/coverage/live.aspx#axzz3cxqpwy2K7

What I Talk About

One thing I will miss tonight is ‘Ironprayer’ which I feel could have given me some luck, but instead I am going to leave you with something different. This week I have been re-reading one of my favourite books as some last minute motivation for the race, the fantastically titled ‘What I Talk About When I Talk About Running’, by writer, runner, fellow triathlete and all round awesome guy Haruki Murakami. He has a passage towards the end which I think gives a bit of insight into why we do this, so I have taken the liberty of including his words below.

“Those of us who participate in triathlons are unusual people. Think about it for a minute. Most all the participants have jobs and families, and on top of taking care of these, they swim and bike and run, training very hard, as part of their ordinary routine. Naturally this takes a lot of time and effort. The world, with its commonsensical viewpoint, thinks their lifestyle is peculiar. And it would be hard to argue with anyone who labelled them eccentrics and oddballs. But there’s something we share, not something as exaggerated as solidarity, perhaps, but at least a sort of warm emotion, like a vague, faintly coloured mist over a late-spring peak. Of course, competition is part of the mix—it’s a race, after all—but for most of the people participating in a triathlon the competitive aspect is less important than the sense of a triathlon as a sort of ceremony by which we can affirm this shared bond.”

And with that, it must be nearly time for bed with such an early start. Good luck to everyone competing, and I will let you know how I get on!

Race Preparation

Things are really heating up now with just two weeks to go until Ironman 70.3 Staffs!

Ironman Staffs 2

After months of hard training I am now at the point where things are starting to calm down with a bit of tapering before the big day (although six separate gym sessions in the last four days might argue with that statement). It is funny that having been through this before with the Avenger last summer I now have slightly different concerns. Whilst previously my main concern was whether I could actually finish a race this long, I now know I can go the distance, and by accounts Ironman Staffs is supposed to have a slightly easier / flatter course (we will see…) which should mean that will take care of itself.

Also unless the weather changes a lot in the next fortnight it is unlikely to be pushing 30 degrees C during the race which will make nutrition a little more realistic and help avoid near collapses on the bike due to dehydration. Finally the cut off time is a bit longer than the 8 hours I previously had (8.30 this time) which I assume has been done especially for me and more importantly might mean I actually finish ahead of someone!

So assuming I can actually finish the course, my attention has turned to the admin side, and I honestly never thought I would have more concerns on this side of the race then actually getting around it!

First up is the location. When I booked the race (which was a mission in itself – see my post from last year on the perils of online race entry) it was because it was less than an hour away from home, which fulfils most of my criteria of being able to get to easily by car and not having to spend money on a hotel the night before. Unfortunately it is the other side of Birmingham in an area I have never been to before, so spent most of yesterday afternoon location scouting in the car, firstly driving around trying to find the venue, which was severely hampered by a load of road closures which confused the sat-nav and the fact that in general it is in the middle of bloody nowhere (I am sure there should be a question mark in the picture below!). Once we actually found it this added to my confusion as the first thing on site is a huge great petting zoo, which is definitely a first for me, although I guess being chased by an angry goat will probably ensure people achieve their PBs!


Next up is parking, and funnily enough writing this blog has made me find another issue. I was just searching for the name of the venue which I keep forgetting and noticed that car parking needed to be booked in advance ‘if you want to park there on the day’. Now bearing in mind I have already highlighted the remote location there is not really a realistic alternative available, as parking miles away and biking in with all my kit is not going to work. So another £14 (yes £14!!) to grudgingly pay on top of the massive entry fees, has at least ensured I will actually be able to park at the race and get home afterwards, assuming I can find it first.

The next, and potentially most complicated part of the day, is that the race actually takes place over two sites. So here you go: You start off at the finish.Yes, although you park up at Shugborough, that is not actually the start location. That is around 15 miles away at a place called Chasewater, where you do your swim and then ride (via a convoluted 90 km bike route) back to the start / finish place. This also means that not only do I need to go along the day before to set up on multiple sites, but on the race day itself you have to get a shuttle bus from the finish to the start. To be honest it is giving me a headache just thinking about it, so hopefully it will all just work out!


Oh, I forgot to mention that one other thing that makes this so complicated. I need to be there at bloody 5 am! So as if it was not hard enough finding the place in the day time, I am going to have to leave the house at around 4 am and find it in the dark, whilst managing to actually stay awake. This is because of this complicated set up, as I will need to get to the finish / start and check my running gear is all ok, then jump on the shuttle bus to the start / finish and again check on my bike stuff. I then need to be in my wetsuit and ready to go in the water around 7ish, for my 7.10 wave start.

That said I am actually really glad I have this start time, as my age group (30-34) is the first ‘normal’ start time, meaning some others won’t even begin until I am halfway around the bike course, which should mean I have some companions during the run, rather than the lonely, painful struggle I experienced on my last lap in the Avenger.


Finally, there is just the small matter of the ‘elite’ competitors taking part. As this is such a high-profile Ironman event (televised and everything) there are some big names in the mix, and none more so than the current ITU World Champion and Olympic Silver medallist Javier Gomez, who is in the first swim wave of the day starting just ten minutes before me. That’s right, I will be hot on the heels of one of the fastest triathletes on the planet! Well, that is probably the closest I will come to him unless his bike falls apart (although I expect he can run faster than I can ride anyway), but it is an amazing thought that I will be that close. I wonder if he will give me any encouragement before the start? That’s if I can work out where the hell it is!!


2014 Highs & Lows

As with all good media stories at the moment it is time for my review of 2014 and of course the Chile Challenge!

I can still remember the moment I came up with the Challenge, whilst driving home on New Year’s Day and trying to work out how on earth I was going to be ready for the half-iron distance race in June that I had daftly signed up for one evening over the Christmas period. I knew there would be a lot of training to do, and I loved Chile, and somehow the two just came together: a challenging yet attainable distance that could solve everything for me, whilst creating a different way to raise a bit of money for charity.

Map of Chile

The blog came later when I realised I wanted a way to keep myself and my sponsors up to date with my progress. Initially it was just going to be some training notes, but it turned out that I enjoyed it so much it almost took over the whole shebang. On the plus side, it has made it a lot easier to look back and review how things progressed last year, so rather than a long, drawn-out review, I thought I would add a few highs and lows from the last 12 months:

January – Cape Horn to Punta Arenas (292 km)

  • High Point – Starting the Chile Challenge of course!
  • Low Point – My ‘Dryathlon’ (no alcohol) being severely tested during a week working on London

February – Punta Arenas to Torres del Paine (373 km)

  • High – Six Nations Rugby: the perfect time for some long bike sessions
  • Low – Gym Fever – No outdoor training this month

March – Torres to Coyhaique (as seen on the Top Gear Patagonia Special) (438 km)

  • High – Setting up the Turbo Trainer and inventing Cycle-to-Work-from-Home
  • Low – Still no races yet this year…


April- Coyhaique to Puerto Varas (447 km)

  • High – Finally some outdoor training!
  • Low – Huge earthquake in Northern Chile

May – Puerto Varas to Maipo Valley (360 km)

  • High – First race of the year (Stratford triathlon)
  • Low – Disappointing lack of scenery on the bike & run courses

HSBC Wetsuit

June – Maipo Valley to Santiago (484 km)

  • High – Finishing the Avenger Triathlon of course!
  • Low – Being unable to climb the stairs the day after the Avenger…

Avenger Finish Line

July – Santiago to Valparaiso (375 km)

  • High – Watching a fantastic Team GB triathlon performance in the Commonwealth Games
  • Low – A massive Tour-de-France style hill climb during the Peak Triathlon

August – Vina to Pisco (126 km)

  • High – Being in Chile and able to see many of the landmarks from this challenge
  • Low – Very little training due to being on the road most of the month

Welcome to Chile

September – Pisco to Antofagasta (421 km)

  • High – A new PB in the Dorney Triathlon
  • Low – Last open water swim of the year

Bham Run Soreen

October – Anto to San Pedro de Atacama (367 km)

  • High – A week in a hotel with an on-site gym – 6 am starts never felt so good!
  • Low – Another hill of pain in the Birmingham Half Marathon

November – San Pedro to Calama (367 km)

  • High – ‘Tache aided training during Movember!
  • Low – Increasingly cold weather on those outdoor runs

Winter Training Run

December – Calama to Arica (280 km)

  • High – Finishing the 4,270 km Chile Challenge
  • Low – Not knowing what to do next…

House of Pain

spin class

I was originally going to tack this onto the end of my football post, but as a special treat for my dozen or so readers this is now a whole extra post! Lucky you…

We pick things up the day after the match, with a fairly civilised breakfast – no Fear & Loathing style hotel room behaviour here. At this point it was mainly flesh wounds – cuts, scrapes, lost limbs, etc – rather than the deeper muscle aches which usually takes 24 hours to kick in. Easy street.

Having endured a morning’s light abuse whilst working from our Manchester office, and getting through a fairly knackering three hour drive home down the M6, I thought I would relax by heading to the gym with my wife for a nice gentle session on the stationary bike, with a bit of time for stretching and warming down in the pool. Or that was the plan…

Realising I had not been on the regular indoor bikes since before the summer, things just did not quite feel right and I could not get the settings I liked or comfortable with the pedals. The next thing I knew I was being tractor-beamed into an RPM Cycle class next door, like some sort of unsuspecting fly sleepwalking into a spider’s web, my brain far to tired to tell my dumb-ass body to get out. This was a new class for me, but having been to plenty of others this year how much tougher could it be?

Turns out a lot. The trainer turned out to have been sent from the planet Mean, to punish us all for our previous life sins: her first words into the microphone were along the lines of “You guys are going to pay for this so much tomorrow” followed by a maniacal laugh like Ozzy’s at the beginning of Crazy Train. Bearing in mind this was the first thing I had ever heard this woman utter I assumed it was just banter, but the rest of the blokes in the room looked slightly terrified, and it turned out she really was crazy.

As there were new releases due for the class this weekend, she put on what she described as a selection of her ‘favourite’ (read: painful) tracks. One involved an eight minute ‘endurance interval sprint’, a phrase which seemed to be something of a dichotomy given that sprints are supposed to involve short intense bursts and the other long steady pedals. It turned out you could do this, any yes, I did pay for it the next day…

During the sprints and steeper climbs the instructor kept doing these intense stares, fixing eye contact in a way that meant you did not dare turn away or slow down in case she came over and gave you an ass kicking. And these stretches seemed to last far longer than normal songs. By the time the hour was up I literally had to hobble away from the bike.

By the way, from the way I have written this you might assume it was awful. Au contraire mon frere: As someone spending most of this year doing a 4000 km virtual race across half a continent I absolutely loved it, and despite the pain I will undoubtedly feel tomorrow morning, I am sure I will be back again for more punishment next week!