Race report part 2 – the bike

Although most coaches and training guides put the emphasis on the marathon as the key that makes or breaks your Ironman, it was the bike that always worried me most. I'd already heard everybody from the organisers to Ironman chief execs and pro triathletes describe the bike course as being possibly the most challenging on the Ironman circuit, and that was before the tough weather hit.

As I headed out of T1 and through the streets of Tenby, it was actually quite bright and sunny. This was great for the spectators, but as we reached the outskirts of town and went west along The Ridgeway, it became clear that the reason the clouds had blown away was an horrendous wind that was the result of Hurricane Katia passing close by.

The first 20km stretch along The Ridgeway was the flattest part of the course ('flattest' should be taken with a pinch of salt here) and supposed to be the easiest. My plan said that I was to 'just ride' this section – take it easy and get my legs moving. That didn't account for a 45mph wind heading straight into my face tho, did it! I got stuck in at a cadence and gear that was well past 'just riding' but I felt wouldn't kill me, while also having to work pretty hard to stay on the bike.

Once we hit Pembroke, the course took us out onto the the extremely exposed region that leads to the military firing zone and Freshwater West. This is where things started to get really dodgy and not a little scary. The hedges provided a bit of cover but when they were interrupted by gates or roads from the sides, I could see the riders ahead getting blown straight across the road. It was in this section that I was blown off my bike for the first time – straight into a hedgerow!

The conditions not only made it a bit hairy but also meant I was cycling very slowly, having to ride on the base bars most of the time rather than on the faster but less steady aerobars. As the road swept around to the beachfront at Freshwater West, the worst of the wind hit us and a lot of the riders around me – including myself – clipped out of our pedals and went around with our feet out to the side to keep balance and anticipate coming off the bike.

There was a big climb out on Angle and then we headed back in the opposite direction – the only part of the whole course with a tail wind (we only did one loop of this first section, followed by two loops of a further larger section). This part was fun, hammering along at 45kmph...I was making up some of the lost time but it became clearer to me with every few minutes that passed that I'd have to reassess my target bike time.

I'd had a bit of a stitch since getting out of the water and had initially felt a little nauseous and unable to take on nutrition or fluid but I knew that this would be key to ''getting 'er done” so I started taking a swig of my Gu/water mix every 20 minutes; I took a salt pill every half hour that I remembered to; and I drank a full bottle of water (no Gatorade or sports drink) every hour.

Lamphey marked the point where we started the first of the bigger loops and having come off the dreaded westernmost area between Pembroke and Angle, I hoped this is where things would start to really look up...how wrong I was. The long, long ride from Lamphey, through Carew and up to Narbeth was the hardest and most demoralising section of the ride.

A few points about this beast of a ride. In total, it climbed 2800m which is up with the very highest elevation of any Ironman course. The roads are often small country lanes and the climbs are incessant. Most courses see pace lines – lines of riders who are riding at similar speeds working together (but not drafting) to drag them through. This simply couldn't happen on the IM Wales course as, other than when riders came grinding to a halt on the biggest hills, you simply didn't see the rider in front, so twisting and turning was the route. And rather than big hills followed by big downhills (a chance for the legs to rest) it was a case of continuous ups and downs. I genuinely think that the longest I stayed in any gear was around two minutes so obviously maintaining a tempo or rhythm was simply impossible.

The course was a stunning one. This part of south west Pembrokeshire is as dramatic and beautiful as anywhere I've been – in fact, the path that hugs coastline here was named the third best walk anywhere in the world by The Guardian recently, and it's easy to see why. The hills and valleys are endless, the coast is rugged and every shade of green is represented. The villages are of the variety that the term 'picture postcard' was likely invented for.

Much of the reason for its beauty is that the area is like a giant promontory, sticking out into the Atlantic with coastline on three sides. Obviously, this doesn't bode well for avoiding the wind and had the effect of creating a headwind in almost all directions. The best we could hope for was an epic sidewind, which is exactly what I got on one of the three hard climbs to Narbeth – enough to send me into the gutter! Painful, but not as painful as getting the bike moving again from a standstill on such an incline.

I'd been told that Ironman would take me to some dark places and it was this stretch up to Narbeth on the first loop that definitely stretched me mentally and physically most – more than I've ever been tested before. Once I made it to Narbeth, the road settled a bit and my Garmin ticked over the 90k point – more than halfway, which gave me a real lift.

My whole body – and mind – told me to stop. My average speed was getting slower and slower as every hill was followed by a bigger one. I could've cried. In fact, without the amazing support on the route, I think I would have. But the support was stunning. From folks who lived on the route who set up impromptu drinks stations (don't tell the officials!!!) to those who stood outside the village pub with a pint in hand cheering every single one of us, the people of Pembrokeshire did their region so, so proud.

The final insult, er...challenge, came just short of Tenby, with the three biggest climbs on the course. On the first, Wiseman's Bridge – a long 16%er that climbs from the coast, I felt the quad muscle that had cramped on the swim go 'ping!' and that was it...no more power came from it, so my right leg had to take up the slack. I was relieved to get to the top, I struggled up the next smaller climb and then came flying downhill to Saundersfoot, where the biggest test awaited. The initial climb out of Saundersfoot was just a couple of hundred metres long but must have been in excess of 20% in elevation. But, to our joy, the locals had turned the hill into a Tour de France style climb – a radio DJ cheered us on, men dressed in devil and Batman outfits ran up beside us and others simply raised their pints in appreciation of our efforts – the noise was deafening and pushed me to the top!

The false top, at least. After the initial killer climb, the Saundersfoot incline flattens slightly but doesn't actually top out for another couple of kilometres. It was damn hard work but once I got there, I was rewarded by the only really long, fast descent on the course, all the way down to Tenby where the carnival atmosphere continued.

I stopped briefly to grab a bottle of coke from my aid bag and saw my friends and family there cheering me on. The Garmin said I'd done more than 100km of the 180km ride and it was then that I knew I could make it. I pulled my aero helmet down (hard work was keeping my body warm but the headwind was freezing my head giving me a painful brainfreeze) and headed out again.

Early in the second lap, I lost all ego. I'd previously had goals in my head for my bike time and, although not hitting those goals, I'd been reluctant to let them go. Here I let them go. My legs were already exhausted from the headwind and the climbs and I knew that if I kept up this pace, I might be able to manage a bike time of 6:45 but I may not get all the way around and I certainly wouldn't be able to tackle Ironman's hilliest marathon. So, I let it go. I took a few percent out of the effort, concentrated on gels and water and actually started enjoying the ride a bit more. One of the problems with out-swimming both the eventual overall winners was that I'd been continuously getting overtaken from the very beginning. But now I was being overtaken by bigger groups more regularly – fortunately, I had no ego left to feel bruised.

The next 80kms were long and hard but it was me against the course and that was all that counted. Then, with 30kms to go, something strange happened...conditions meant there were accidents, injuries and mechanical issues all ride long so I'd passed a few unlucky athletes during the day, but now I was passing more and more bikers who'd clearly gone out too hard and were suffering terribly. I knew I'd made the right decision earlier and patted myself on the back for it.

Heading into Wiseman's Bridge, I steadied myself for the hardest half hour of my life. The first climb almost killed me – all of us were wobbling across the whole road just trying to get up. Saundersfoot was worse but the crowd again did the job. The pain on my face must have been clear for all to see and a couple of girls at the side of the road responded admirably. 'Come on, you're not stopping here – we're with you to the top,' they said, jogging alongside me till the road flattened. Writing this now, I wonder if I had maybe slipped into unconsciousness or become delusional – they weren't Welsh girls, they were angels.

Finally, I came steaming down the big hill into Tenby – this section ran alongside the marathon course which was already resembling something of a battle field. I jumped, very happily, off the bike (just over 7:15), managed a quick transition which included a bite of a chicken and bacon sandwich and then headed out to go to war with a marathon course that contained almost a kilometre of incline in total.

That part to come soon...