It’s getting close. I’m in to month 7 of my Ironman training programme and my next big milestone is competing in the Outlaw Half next Sunday, 21st May 2017, in Nottingham.
A bit about me. I’m 5’11” tall (always gutted I didn’t make 6 feet), weigh 70kg and at 42 years old I’m probably past my best for competing. I’ve found out from trying various sports over the years that my strengths and interest lie in endurance events. I tend to get the most out of these on a personal level, having achieved something challenging. That’s not to say that I don’t get a lot of personal satisfaction out of being part of a team but I’ve found the harder the physical exertion involved, the more I like it. Which is why it was kind of inevitable that I would end up trying to complete an Ironman.
I’d been thinking about entering a full distance event for years but had convinced myself I wouldn’t be able to manage it. I’ve done several half distance races over the past few years and really enjoyed them, but the longer distance scared me to death. I think it stems from my one and only experience of competing in a marathon. It was in London in 2001 where I not only hit the wall, I smashed right in to it and bounced off. I bonked, big time. I experienced cramp in virtually every part of my body and went to a very bad place physically and mentally. Best laid plans and all that.
My thinking changed when a few people I know, including my brother-in-law, successfully completed the distance. It got me thinking it was possible, or at least not impossible. I guess it became one of those really annoying nagging things that goes round and round your head, like a really bad song you can’t shift when you’re swimming.
In truth though, the real reason I entered was because I was massively hungover. I’d been on a stag weekend with my Lichfield triathlon friends. We’d drunkenly talked about it and a few of us enthusiastically discussed entering one. Fuelled with the banter as well as the after effects of too many beers and cocktails, I sat on the sofa the next evening and entered Ironman UK in Bolton. Being very pleased with myself I text the stag lads to tell them expecting everyone to be similarly motivated to follow suit. I think the alcohol had skewed my perception of how eager the others were to do it. It might have sounded good the night before but everyone else came to their senses the next day. I was on my own on this one.
Realising I was going to need help if I was going to avoid another London marathon disaster I searched for and found a coach. Training started in November 2016 and I’ve followed the weekly schedule ever since. Finding a coach was the best decision I’ve made. Having a structured programme to follow, tailored to my own lifestyle, has been just what I needed.
So here I am nine months later. I think I’m in good shape, but I’m still bricking it. I mean, there’s a marathon at the end of a ridiculously long swim and bike for God’s sake. What was I thinking?