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Five go to Aberfeldy
I’m
not sure how it started, but I have my suspicions. So it was that
Saturday 31st August saw us driving north to Aberfeldy
the car packed full of various bikes, wetsuits and miscellaneous pieces
of lycra – us being Brian,
Lynn, Linda and myself. We were to meet Neal (about whom I have my
suspicions) later that day. The reason for our trip was to compete
in the Scottish Long Distance Triathlon championships – a small matter
of a 1.9km swim, 90km bike and 21.1 km run. The whole thing being
better known as the half iron man distance.
I
thought I was travelling light until I saw Brian’s luggage – he may
have had a change of underwear but I wouldn’t swear to it. Lynn on
the other hand, who is known for breaking things and getting lost,
had a spare everything. On arrival in Aberfeldy we organised the rooms
at the B&B– I was unfortunate enough to pick Brian’s car keys
out of the bundle but at least there would be plenty of space in the
wardrobe.
Being
serious athletes we still had a lot of preparation to do that day.
Our first task was to cast our experienced eyes over the race route.
Yip – water was there (was it really going to be a pontoon start?!),
the road was there (Ben Lawyers did seem quite a steep hill to cycle
up) and there was already a few signs out for the run route (described
as flat with a lump in it – is that the same as being a little bit
pregnant?). The next task was to complete the carbo loading, so off
to the pub for some energy drink and a spot of food.
The
days final task was to prepare food for the race. I had of course
taken all advice offered and had well in advance calculated a precise
combination of bars and gels that would satisfy my energy needs on
race day. It doesn’t pay to be too rigid though, so the plan was binned,
recalculations of calories required were done and that also binned
before finally picking up a handful of gels and shoving them in my
feed bag. It looked roughly right.
In
case any of you were wondering, Brian sleeps well. I know this because
I can account for practically every minute of that night. As I stared
at the clock and wondered if I should throw in another couple of gels
‘to be on the safe side’, Brian gently snoozed away. People often
refer to this as sleeping like a baby, but in my experience babies
usually wake every hour and take about 30 mins to quieten down. Brian
didn’t wake, he just slept – infuriating.
Race
day dawned to bright cool weather, not even a hint of wind – if I’d
ever thought of swimming 1.9kms, cycling 90kms and running 21.l kms,
these are the conditions I would have chosen. Some of us could eat
breakfast, others couldn’t. Not surprising that Lynn fell into the
later category – she appeared at breakfast to announce she had just
drunk about 3 litres of water with glycerol.
A
quick stop was made to drop off the running shoes at T2 before driving
7 miles to the swim start at Kenmore. Time was getting a little bit
tight by now. It was 8:30am with a race start of 9am. It was at this
point that Brian decided to reveal that he had left his wetsuit at
the B&B. I found this quite interesting – Brian had the least
gear with him, had taken the longest to get out of the B&B that
morning and yet it was he who managed to leave something behind. Could
he manage to do a 14 mile round trip, set up his bike transition,
get into a wetsuit and make it to the start line within half and hour?
We were about to find out.
“Give
me your van keys” he said.
“Van!, that’s not a van, it’s a lifestyle extension” came the hurt
reply.
“Don’t care, just give me your f***king keys”
Brian
was at this point probably the most tense I have ever seen him – a
state that most of us would call relaxed and unhurried. I relented
and passed over the keys to the life-style extension. I’ve not mentioned
this yet, but Brian was attempting to complete the race with a broken
rib. Most people would have taken the forgotten wetsuit as a sign
from above that participation was the wrong option, but not Brian,
so his race started with a rally stage. I’ve never asked him what
speed he was doing on those twisty country roads and I don’t really
want to know. Suffice it to say that he made the swim start with 5
seconds to spare.
The
race briefing pointed out the swim route – conditions were perfect
but it did seem like an awfully long distance to those buoys on the
far side of the loch. Things were to get worse – we had to do the
route twice, but at least we didn’t have to dive off the pontoon,
just jump in before the start.
I
can’t remember if the swim started with a bang or a klaxon, whatever
it was, mine started with a whimper. 50m into the swim my goggles
were leaking so badly that I had to stop and empty them. Another 50m
saw the operation repeated and the strap tightened, and it wasn’t
long before stop number three.
Breathing
is normally an essential component in most forms of exercise, but
at this point in time I just wasn’t able to do it. I’ve never had
a boa constrictor squeeze the living breath out of me, but if I ever
do I will recognise the symptoms. You try to fill your lungs but your
chest just wont respond. Was it panic? Of course not, must have been
the cold water. I hadn’t urinated in my wetsuit and of course every
one else must have. It’s the only possible explanation as far as I
am concerned. A flip onto my back followed by a minutes deep breathing
did the trick and I was on my way for real. The swim started to feel
good and I actually passed a few people. Tactically I’ve always thought
it a good idea to come out of the swim last – no one can pass you
on the bike.
Two
laps of the swim later I emerged from the water feeling good and ready
for the rest of the race. A pleasant surprise awaited me. Unknown
to me, my wife and oldest daughter had made the trip up to watch the
race and cheer me on. It would give me a good boost later in the race
when my morale dipped.
The
bike section of the race is superb. The scenery is outstanding and
the road surfaces are generally very good. Of course, some of us go
at a pace that allows the scenery to be admired, others just go fast.
After about half an hour you get to the base of Ben Lawyers and the
King of the Mountains section of the race. In front of me I could
see people zigzagging across the road trying to lessen the gradient.
Fortunately after the first half mile the road levels out to be merely
alpine in nature and you can see the visitor centre in the distance.
This was where our preparation paid some dividends. The visitor centre
may look like the top of the climb, but the race organisers had very
cunningly hidden a further mile of ascent behind a fold in the hill.
To those that weren’t in on the secret it must have been heart braking
after two miles of hard climbing to turn a corner and see a further
mile in front of them. At the top I caught up with Linda and Lynn,
both going well and looking strong. It would later turn out that Linda
and Lynn would pace each other throughout the race only to separate
in the last mile or so of the run. A later look at the map would show
that in the first hour of the bike approximately 1500ft of height
was gained. The good news though was that in the next two hours this
height would be lost.
A
fast decent down the other side of Ben Lawyers was followed by a tour
of Glen Lyons – one of the most scenic glens in Scotland. My morale
was at its height at this stage, I felt superb and had to make an
effort to keep my pace down – no point blowing up later in the race.
For the next two hours I didn’t see another soul. This is one of the
differences between a race of this length and my usual sprint distance
and at stages the race would prove to be as mentally demanding as
it was physically. The 30mile point in the bike was probably my lowest
ebb of the day. My sugar levels must have dropped and I still had
a further 26 miles of cycling before I could start the half-marathon.
I had expected to feel like this at some stage of the day and knew
that I just had to keep eating and get through it. At about 8 miles
to go I passed Catharine and Katie who driven out to give me a cheer.
I was feeling good by this stage and seeing them gave me another boost
– for the first time I realised that I would definitely complete the
distance.
I
once read some comments by a full ironman competitor who said that
after cycling the 180kms the thought of the marathon was very appealing
– by that stage he would have done anything to get off his bike. I
knew how he felt. The last 5 miles were tough – gradually up hill
into a strengthening wind. By the time I got off my bike I reckoned
that I deserved a relaxed T2, so I got myself organised and had a
few snaps taken with my daughter. Only 21.1kms to go.
I
was surprised how good the run felt – tired legs but otherwise ok.
The out and back course meant that I could see the first of the finishers
coming back as I headed out on the course. Many of them looked remarkably
fresh, some even exchanged greetings. It seemed to take forever to
reach the turn around point, but when I did it almost seemed to mark
the end of the race – I was now definitely on the home leg.
Children
can be cruel, and my oldest daughter proved this to be true. After
being on the go for over five hours she decided to race me across
the finish line. I tried to stay with her but just wasn’t able to
match her blistering turn of pace. At a later date I read her school
diary, according to which I narrowly missed winning the race and came
in a close second – I hope her teacher was impressed.
My
final splits – Swim 43 mins, Bike 2:56hrs, Run 1:40hrs, with a total
time of 5:25hrs. Of our other club members taking part,
Neal - Swim 39 mins, Bike 2:44hrs, Run 1:33hrs, with a total time
of 4:59hrs
Brian - Swim 33 mins, Bike 2:42hrs, Run 2:16hrs, with a total time
of 5:35 hrs
Lynn - Swim 33 mins, Bike 3:11hrs, Run 2:01hrs, with a total time
of 5:49 hrs
Linda - Swim 32 mins, Bike 3:12hrs, Run 2:05hrs, with a total time
of 5:53 hrs
It
was a great day and finishing the race gave me a huge sense of achievement,
it is something that I would thoroughly recommend to anyone. Despite
what you may think, any reasonably fit person can quickly make the
jump to this sort of distance – if not to win it, then at least to
be able to comfortably complete it. My training levels had been averaging
about 4 hrs per week until 10 weeks prior to the event when I upped
my training to average about 7hrs per week peaking at 10 hrs.
Would I ever consider doing the full ironman distance? No, never, not a chance!! ………..Well, probably not………..
