Ironman Austria - Race report: Part 1 - the preamble

I've been kidding myself that, as I was posting little blogs and other morsels in the run-up to IM Austria, my race report would be a nice, quick affair. But I'm a writer, and brevity doesn't come naturally; so get the kettle on, pull up a pew, and make yourself comfortable... we might be here a while.

My goals and ambitions heading into Austria were perhaps different to most people's. I'd done Ironman Wales (12:50) last September and, somewhere along the way, had forgotten to 'enjoy' it. I know that you don't truly enjoy an Ironman – not in the same way you do, say, having a nice cold pint on a summer's day, or watching fat people fall over on YouTube – but I'd forgotten to 'experience' it and, as a result, didn't feel like I'd done myself justice on the day. In short, I had unfinished business with the 140.6 mile distance.

Unfinished business shouldn't be confused with lofty aspirations. As everything from my Aerofit scan to the unholy mess of agony and anguish that is my face after a long run will tell you, I'm very much a short course triathlete. With that in mind, I set my team coach, Jason, the unenviable task of prepping me for a UK Sprint Qualifier (I did actually qualify for the GB Team to go to the World Champs in New Zealand but decided to pass on it) and Ironman Austria, just five weeks apart...

On the whole, I think it worked well. I felt fit, ready and confident (within reason, of course – you can always be fitter, faster and more ready but...) heading over to Austria. I was confident that I was a different athlete from the one that lined up at Ironman Wales. Just as importantly, I was mentally in a different place. I spoke with Jason about the process – swimming hard and trying to find fast feet; concentrating on heart rate, nutrition and hydration on the bike; a steady run-walk for the run. It was mentioned that, on a very good day, a sub-11 hour time may be on the cards; but that smiling and soaking up the atmosphere and scenery was just as important.

The days before were fairly undramatic. Describing the Klagenfurt and Worthersee venue as stunning is a bit like saying Scarlett Johansson is pretty, or Facebook is popular. It's breathtaking and the lakeside resort location for the Ironman village – along with Europe's biggest outdoor sports expo – gives the whole event a real festival atmosphere. 

a small section of the giant Worthersee

the canal that connects the Worthersee with the town of Klagenfurt - part of the canal features at the end of the Ironman swim, and part of the run goes up and down the canal as it runs into town 

Add 2,800 triathletes and their families and the atmosphere soon becomes electric. Not wanting to tire myself out or expend too much nervous energy, I headed down to the race village as necessity demanded – registration, briefing, swim practice, massage – but then got away back into Klagenfurt town as soon as I was able.

Everything, I would say, went like clockwork until the day before the race. If this race has taught me anything at all, it's that the saying 'man makes plans and god laughs' possibly applies more to long distance triathlon than anything else!

On Saturday morning, in the race briefing, it was revealed that, for the first time in 14 years, the Worthersee was too warm to allow wetsuits. If I were there for position, this would have been good news for me. As I was sort of there for time, it was sort of bad news, but no great shakes. Others, however, saw it differently. The announcement was met with the sort of loud clamour and screamed questions that I associate with movies in which a notorious villain is cleared by a corrupt jury on a technicality. In fact, I was pretty certain that 'wetsuits will not be allowed' must have sounded very much like the German for 'all of your family have just been killed by a nuclear bomb'. I saw two women actually crying.

For me, the bad news started after lunch. I ate a standard, plain pasta dish from a local Italian; it made me feel so ill I could hardly eat for the rest of the day, while my stomach tried to play bongos on my intestines. Meanwhile, much to everyone's concern – not least, we later discovered, the organisers' – the unseasonably hot weather that was the cause of the non-wetsuit swim was only getting hotter and hotter.

In retrospect, there are a couple of things that I'm glad that I was ignorant of before race day. First was how many hills were in the course – but we'll get to that later – second, and most pressing, was just how hot it would get out there. Official figures had it at 36C but, in the sort of mind-blowing coincidence that Ironman has a habit of throwing up, we discovered the sort of 'hilarious after the fact but painful as hell at the time' truth the next day in the local newspaper and at the presentation party: not only was Sunday the hottest Ironman Austria, but the single hottest day in Klagenfurt since records began (200 years if you've a taste for macabre humour!) and one of the five hottest days of all time anywhere in Austria! The road temperature on the big climb reached 41C, with 47C recorded at the finish line! Being a lake venue, there's unfortunately none of the cooling breeze that you may get near the sea – so the temperatures soon stack up.

Part 2 - race day
Part 3 - post-race thoughts
Part 4 - thanks

A baker’s dozen – 13 weeks till Ironman Austria

This Sunday just gone marked three full months – 13 whole weeks – until I tackle my second Ironman, in Klagenfurt, Austria, on 1 July. This – to borrow the theme of 75% of all Cosmo and Marie Claire articles ever written – is how you know when things are getting serious.

Until now, training has just been training – not exactly aimless, but less targeted. For the next three months, however, I’ll be more targeted than a high school cheerleader in a slasher horror movie. I’ve had my structure through from coach and let’s just say I’ll be making sure I have plenty of chamois cream in the kit bag, Gatorade in the fridge and ice in the bath...

So, first things first, Ironman Austria. Why? The answer to this is several-fold.

Firstly, while I was proud of myself for having finished Ironman Wales last year (which was, after all, my only real goal), I also felt like I didn’t do myself justice. I was immediately ready for another Ironman and, when deciding which race to do, I knew that I wanted something with the amazing atmosphere and feel of Wales, but without the uncertain weather.

IM Wales’ September date meant training right through the Dubai summer which, in retrospect, meant I couldn't do the training mileage required on the bike or run, so I wanted something that’d give me time to rest then pick up the training again (i.e. summer) but a few months earlier meaning that I’d enjoy the truly hellish training months of July and August when temperatures hover around the mid-40s all day and night.

Most importantly, I needed something altogether flatter on the bike and run.

Austria seemed to fit the bill. The organisation and support are legendary. The weather is almost always perfect (he says, touching more wood than a gay pornstar) and the course, surprisingly perhaps, is much more suited to my strengths (that should perhaps be “strengths”).

One more reason: the venue is stunning!

Just one problem – it’s such a popular race, it’d sold out within hours of opening for entries on the day after the previous event.

Mostly, being a journalist means no money, long hours and continuous deadline stress but there are certain times I’m very happy with my chosen career; such as those times that I read emails and Facebook posts from people who earn way more money than me but get to feel smug about their shocking grasp of grammar and toddler-like spelling ability... this was one of those times!

A quick email to the awesome Klaus who represents Tourism Austria here in the Middle East; he forwarded me to the wonderful Nicole and Gernot at Worthersee Tourism (Worthersee is the stunning lake that is central to the event) and, before I could say “Der hund ist auf dem auto” (“the dog is on the car” is the only phrase I remember from school German other than “Ich bin im bett mit seiner freundin” which means “I’m in bed with your girlfriend”... every time I’m in Germany or Austria, I’m dying to see a dog sat on a car, just so I can impress all the locals with my language skills and powers of observation!) I was signed up to Ironman Austria! Result.

So, there’s part one of my little tale. Tomorrow – what can I expect from the race itself?

NEXT...

I can't believe it's been 6 months since Ironman Wales - in some ways, it feels like it happened to me (that's the best way I can describe that course - it happened to me!) only yesterday; in other ways, thanks to a good racing season here in the UAE and mainly due to joining TeamT2A, it feels like it happened to a completely different athlete a long time ago.

Well, with six months to go to the next IM Wales and the following promo video coming out for he 2012 race (bringing back all sorts of memories - tho the hills and conditions don't look anywhere near as bad on here!) it seems like a good time to rule a line under one experience and look forward to others.

The next two weekends should be pretty fun ones: tomorrow is the final race of the local Aerofit sprint series in Ghantoot and, as I'm not quite back up to full speed, I'm going to vary my pacing a little to see how that affects my overall time.

The following weekend, the team is heading to Al Ain and, more specifically, to Jebel Hafeet for a training camp on the side of a mountain. I've heard many tales from previous editions and it promises to be emotional up there! Looking forward to that and, in between, just getting a full and solid week of training in for the first time in almost two months since before I was ill.

Lots of blogging to come in the next few days and weeks... hope you'll enjoy.

To blog or not to blog…that is the question!

So…friends, family, colleagues, readers and random folk who’ve wrongly stumbled upon this page in search of information on Robert Downey Jnr, we have reached the end, I guess.

Iron Man, not Ironman...see?

I set up this blog to chart the run up to Ironman Wales and now that race has been and gone. I hope I’ve diverted, entertained, educated or amused to some degree; and I also really hope that I’ve given you some sort of insight into what it takes (physically, mentally, in terms of time, commitment and even material gear) to do an Ironman. I fear that my constant self-doubt, list-making, anger management issues (my Twitter followers are perhaps more exposed to them) and second-guessing teamed with bloody-mindedness, competitiveness and (let’s face it, triathletes) occasional disregard for my own well-being has probably also revealed quite a lot about the personality type it takes to get into triathlons and definitely Ironman.

By way of a nice summary, in the three month Ironman specific training block I did in preparation for Ironman Wales (not including the race itself):

• I swam/biked/ran 10% of the way around the world.
• I trained a total of 250 hours, or 83.3 hours per month, or 19 hours a week, or 2:40 per day.
• I produced enough watts to power one TV for just over four months.
• And I burnt the equivalent calorific value that you’ll find in 1,000 Krispy Kreme donuts (which, coincidentally, was my post-race snack!).

Keep em coming...

So, what’s next for me? Well, 10 days after Ironman I’m just about getting back into training. I’ve spun easy on the bike once and am heading back to the wonderful Dubai Masters Swimming Club tonight (if I could find a cycling and running club that got me to the same level as DMSC, I could turn pro!) for the first time.

A lot of people get a bit of Ironman Blues after their big race, as it’s usually the focus (and often last race) of their season; one upshot of my silly decision to train through a Dubai summer is that our triathlon season is just about to get going. One thing I’ve realised through all this is just how much I love racing – this season, there’s a busy calendar of runs, bike time trials, open water swims, aquathlons (swim, run) and triathlons and, sod training schedules etc, I intend to race them all.

Feeling blue...ba-dum-tccccchhhh!

Actually, I have devised a new schedule with a focus on shorter, high intensity training, some plyometric workouts (leg strengthening jumps etc) and, generally, less total time spent on the bike and on the road. It’s based on some pretty new thinking in physiology and training and I’m going to try it out until Christmas and see how I fare.

I also discovered that I’m a goal-driven person. So, now that the giant goal of finishing an Ironman has been achieved, what’s next? Well, in the long term, another Ironman. Speaking in general terms, to get more miles into my legs and become a far stronger cyclist. But I’ve a few specific goals between now and next summer too:

• To do 2:10 (or less) for an Olympic distance race
• To run a sub-3:30 marathon in January
• To knock at least 10 minutes off my time at the Abu Dhabi International Tri in March (this race is organised by evil Satanists who would murder bags full of puppy dogs and  babies in order to make a quick buck and I hate myself for entering but, as it’s the only genuinely big race within 1000 miles of Dubai, enter it I’m sure I will)
• To do a decent (i.e. race rather than survive) Half Ironman

So, there you have it.

THE END

Actually, I’ve decided that I couldn’t possibly disappoint the unfeasibly and inexplicably large number of you who read this (seriously, there are that many people out there who are that bored in work..?) and the blog will be getting a ‘rebranding’ but will carry on. My intention is, as well as reporting back on my own training etc, that I’ll post more general content too, about triathlon, training, gear, physiology and life in the Middle East. I hope you’ll continue to read and enjoy. Now seriously, get back to work, bloody slackers…

Final thoughts

It’s now more than a week since I crossed the finish line and ‘became an Ironman’ and it’s taken me that long to get all these race reports written due mainly to how emotionally exhausting it is to remember and relive the day.

I wanted to write this blog post as something of a round-up, to tie up some lose ends, answer a few questions and appraise my own performance.

Firstly, I want to say how proud I am of my performance – both in terms of training leading up to the event and the race itself. As a self-coached athlete, I think I did OK with the training programme I set myself, and showed amazing discipline in sticking to it in far from ideal conditions during a sizzling Dubai summer. I think back to where I was athletically (or, more to the point, non-athletically) just four years ago and I can’t believe what I’ve just achieved.

However, I would say that I made just one mistake, and it was a biggie: I should never have chosen to do Ironman Wales. Now, that doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t have done an Ironman or that I’m not immensely proud to have raced in the inaugural Ironman Wales event – a race that is destined to become a real classic – but that I chose this race with my heart rather than my head.

Any Ironman training book worth its salt emphasises how important it is to pick the right race. The fact it was in Wales and I’d have friends and family there to support me (which did mean the world to me - thanks mum, dad, Harvey, Chris, Pete, Zo, John, Jamie, Bobby, Cez and Rach...) clouded my judgement. Looking at it logically, I should have done a race between January and May, to fit in with the optimal time for training here in Dubai. Being an excellent pool swimmer with limited opportunity to practise open water swimming, a lake, canal or river swim would have been best – anything but a rough sea swim! With very little elevation here in Dubai, a flatter, rolling bike course was what the doctor ordered – certainly not one of the hilliest ironman courses, with much the same true of the marathon, as all my distance running experience (Dubai Marathon, RAK Half etc) has been on pancake flat courses. If I’m being utterly honest, choosing Wales, for those reasons, was a bit of a gaff, but one I came out of OK.

I think I prepared as well as I was able, there are aspects of training that I'd change in hindsight, but that I really couldn't have done much about given the heat. There are aspects of race day that I can definitely learn from but I don’t think I got it too wrong, and I was really happy with my nutrition and hydration plan. What I was most proud of was my ability to roll with the punches on race day and, as conditions worsened, I reassessed my race strategy and target times – allowing for the slower race while also setting myself goal times that kept me pushing hard throughout.

So, the big question that many people have already asked: would I do it again? The answer is simple: beyond a shadow of a doubt. But probably not Ironman Wales, or certainly not IM Wales for a few years. The first reason for that is that I’d like to experience other races, countries and atmospheres. Secondly, though, as I said, it’s not a course that currently suits me so I’d look for one that was a better fit. Having now done an official ‘Ironman’ branded race, I’m also less bothered if my next iron distance is an official M-dot one or not – some of the other races look lots of fun and are also much more affordable with a different sense of camaraderie.

But I definitely would do Wales again in time. If I’d moved back to Europe and was training in the right ways, I would like to go back and see if I’d improved and test myself over the toughest of courses. Put simply, I didn’t have the legs for the bike course this time round. I’d have to be doing a couple of 3-6 hour rides in hilly terrain each week, or taking part in tough sportives every weekend all season…I think the IM Wales course is just one that demands a lot of hill time in the legs, pure and simple. I’d also want to drop at least 5kgs and would probably use a road bike rather than a TT bike.

So, which one’s next? That decision hasn’t been made and I think I’d like to do a couple of Half Ironman distance races first, but I’ll keep you posted when I do decide.

Finally, there was one huge winner on the day – and that was Wales. Ironman UK has become something of an also-ran in recent years, with little reputation, mystique or allure. It’s a race that mainly Brits do as it’s nearby and therefore more affordable, but overseas athletes don't exactly have it marked down as a must-do. 

The message from UK and foreign athletes alike this week has been that finally the UK has an Ironman to be proud of, and one that people from all over the world will come to tackle. The difficulty of the course will give it huge appeal to those who want to test themselves on the ultimate course, but it’s the people of Tenby, the volunteers and those who lined the streets in all the towns and villages on Pembrokeshire that make me want to come back and race one day. 

Afterwards, some of the locals said that they didn’t quite know what Ironman was before the weekend, but it was the best day of the year and that they were already making plans for next year – if the welcome and support they provided this year was what they could do with only a loose handle on it, future races are going to be really special indeed.

Race report part 3 - the marathon

My second transition may not have been hasty enough to trouble the pros, but compared to my swim-bike transition, it was positively speedy. I took off my helmet, peeled off the extra pair of bike shorts I’d worn for the ride (highly recommended!), emptied my rear pockets and, after quickly slipping on my Asics DS trainers and visor, I was out to take on the Ironman marathon – the destroyer of men and slayer of egos. The reality of this struck me briefly as I left transition – the sheer ridiculousness of it…after 8 hours of non-stop graft and the hardest, hilliest bike ride of my life, I was now heading out to run a marathon!

Frankly, I was so damn happy to be of the bike, I felt pretty good heading out of town and on to the main section of the course. Now, since I started doing endurance races, I’ve noticed something of a correlation between how a course looks and how it races. In the UAE, for example, courses are dull, lifeless, colourless and flat as you like – they’re also damn fast. The Tenby run course was beautiful…d’oh!

After all the hills on the bike, you’d have thought the race organisers may have taken pity on us poor would-be Ironmen and offered up a nice flat run course – but then that’s not the stuff that ‘hardest course in the world’ Ironman legend is made of, is it? 

Instead, we ran around one kilometre out of town to discover a 4km climb of 4% or more, all the way out to New Hedges. There, the course came back downhill for a moment before turning and climbing another sharp incline. The next 4km were, therefore, downhill but, once we reached town, the route zigzagged up and down the sloping cobble streets and looped around the castle – this section featured a climb in excess of 20% which even the pros had to walk up. In total, the run course climbed almost 1km, which is a lot even when compared with most the world’s pure marathons…Ironman marathons are usually pretty flat affairs in comparison. What had I got myself into?

My first lap, I shortened my stride and took on the incline well. Halfway up was an aid station where I slowed to a walk, downed coke and water, and started running again – this was my strict strategy for all the aid stations (whether I felt like I needed to walk or not) and I grabbed a Powerbar gel, a salted cracker or a half banana when my tummy felt able. Heading back downhill on the first lap, I made the mistake of trying to use the easier terrain to make up some time – big error as the most difficult section was the part back in Tenby town centre. This part just sapped all energy just before we turned and made our way out for the next lap – and the 4km long hill!

I followed the same strategy for the second lap but used the downhill as a chance to hold back, rest the legs a little and recharge ready for the tough town section. Unfortunately, heading back into town, the quad cramp came back with a vengeance and made both my left quad and hamstring all but useless. My legs were seizing by the second but I knew I just had to finish this second lap. Passing my friends and family (who were holed up outside a town centre pub – how tempting was it to throw the towel in there!?), I signalled two more laps to go. But I was suffering as much as I had done all day.

I was lapping at around 60 minutes per 10k and I decided that given the course and the conditions (the wind was now howling, the heavens had opened a few times and it was getting very cold towards the top of the course) this was fine even if slower than anticipated, so I steeled myself for the third lap by telling myself it was the only lap that mattered – if I got through the third lap, I’d definitely be able to do the final lap, even if I had to walk it…it was all about that third lap. The people of Tenby were out in their thousands and I managed a few high 5s, thumbs ups and smiles in order to soak up some of their energy.

The hill was incredibly tough but I just concentrated on the next aid station and allowed myself to walk through each a little longer – stretching my dying quad as I did so. The 25k mark is traditionally ‘the wall’ in marathon running and one piece of Ironman advice I’d read said that the 25k point was all that mattered – the rest of the day was just about getting you to the wall in the best shape possible to tackle it. I knew that 25k was at the top end of the course and that, if I managed the long climb up, the hill would bring me back down to town – 28k in and hopefully past the wall. It did the trick, and I passed for my third lap.

I used exactly the same technique for the final lap – longer walks through the aid station, thanking every one of the amazing volunteers out on the course as I went past for the last time. At one point, as I summited the top of the second peak, it hit me – I knew for absolute certain now that I was going to become an Ironman.

I now felt great, considering (feeling good is a relative thing at the end of an Ironman), and the quad pain had even eased a little. Not everybody else could say the same – it was like a battle ground out there, people sat down looking dejected or in tears, others throwing up everything in their stomachs, some were shuffling unconventionally but it was getting them there slowly…others just limped along.

At the second to last aid station I swigged a coke and it came straight back up – my stomach had done a sterling job and just about lasted the day, but now it was starting to revolt – so I ignored the last aid station altogether. Finally, I was in town and rather than making the turn back out on to another lap, I could head down the Esplanade where thousands were watching and cheering. Channelling the spirit of Macca at Kona in 2010, I straightened my visor, zipped up my tri top, took off my arm warmers and put them in my back pocket and made for the finish, lapping up every sweet second of it. In case I was only ever going to do this once in my life, I wanted to look OK in the pictures doing it! I hugged and high 5’d my family and friends and fist bumped everyone all the way down to the finishing chute where I heard the six words that had motivated me in my darkest moments ever since I signed up to do this race: ’Matt Warnock…YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!’

12:50 – it may not be a time that threatens pros or top age groupers, but considering the course I was happy with it. In fact, with a third of racers either dropping out or not making the various cut-off times, I was happy to finish at all. Even the winning pros were more than an hour over their predicted times, with male pros still coming in after the 10 hour mark - something that really doesn't usually happen in Ironman and serves as testament as to the course's brutal difficulty.

The next hour was a blur – getting warm clothes on (the heavens opened for the night as I hit the athlete’s village), trying to eat the fish and chips provided but my stomach not really letting me, massage from the great on-site physios, and then home. I have to confess that a few minutes after crossing the line I went to a portaloo and had a little sort of weep for 10 seconds or so – for no reason in particular, but the emotions of the day had been so huge I guess they just needed to come out somewhere.

But it was done. I was an Ironman. An IRONMAN. On the toughest course, on the toughest day – I felt like I truly deserved that finisher’s medal and t-shirt. But never again. Well, not for a while at least. A year at the absolute least. Oh man, let’s check the calendar online – I‘m well up for another try!

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...

Race report part 1 – preamble and swim

An Ironman is such an exciting event to be around and, as the day got closer, and race briefings, practice swims and pasta parties went by, the excitement – and nerves – really went up a notch.

On Saturday afternoon, we had to take our bikes into the transition to rack them up and hand over our T1 and T2 bags. This helped calm the nerves a little as I knew that I now had everything I needed and hadn't forgotten anything vital. Now it was just a case of resting up, eating and drinking.

The weather was playing on everybody's mind. It had dried up a little after the torrential rain of the past few days but the message was that we were going to receive a visit from Hurricane Katia as she passed by. The officials announced that the swim would change from the open South Beach which faces the Atlantic to the more secluded North Beach. 'If you do it on South Beach, you'll be fishing them out in body bags,' was an opinion I heard voiced by more than one local.

Fortunately, I'd slept well all week as on the Saturday night I slept very little at all – maybe two hours in total. But I was relatively calm and collected on the morning of the race, with the exception of leaving a drink bottle in the fridge which we had to go back for!

Bottles on bike, tyres pumped, final adjustments, wetsuit half on and I joined the hundreds of swimmers making their way across town to North Beach. The next few minutes flew by but I remember looking back up to the cliff top behind us and being blown away by the thousands of spectators who'd come out at the crack of dawn to cheer on us 1600 madmen (and ladies). The Welsh national anthem played and then 'BANG' – the cannon sounded and it was time to sttart becoming an Ironman.

The first buoy was away to the left and half of the swimmers ran down the beach in that direction in an attempt to shorten the swim out to the first buoy. I decided to follow local pro Oliver Simon straight in. The water was cold – 13C – but the adrenalin kicked in. However, it was also pretty rough and I was already being thrown about from side to side. I was glad to be a strong swimmer here because I wouldn't have liked to have tackled the waves and current while in the middle of the masses – at least I was able to get out toward the front.

I turned the first buoy and started out along the long 'back straight' of the swim and it was here that the current – against us all the way at this point – was at its strongest. I tried to settle into the swim, knowing it was going to be a long one, and found a couple of pairs of feet to follow, but doing so wasn't easy given the swell. Every few breaths, you'd turn your head to find it still underwater...a few strokes were missed entirely as all of a sudden there was either no water underneath me to pull in or too much above me to get my arm around...but I still made good progress passing other triathletes steadily.

Halfway along that back straight, I said to myself 'here it is mate, you're doing an Ironman!' I'd shortened my stroke to allow for the choppier waters and was starting to have fun but, just as I reached the last buoy before heading back to the beach, an epic cramp kicked in my left quad. I realised it'd have been caused by the cold so tried to stay calm, stretched the leg a little and kept it perfectly still for the next few minutes, which worked a treat.

Heading back towards the beach, the current was finally with us, making this section really quick and fun. I finally pulled myself up on to the sand after the first lap and started running along the beach to the point where we had to dive in and start the second lap. The crowds were going wild and I heard the announcer on the PA system say that we were coming out on around 23 minutes, which is super quick, so I knew I needed to slow it down a little on the second lap or I'd be suffering for the speed later in the day.

The second lap went really well. It was still a real battle against the elements but by then I'd hit as much of a rhythm as I was going to find in those conditions and had a few swimmers to draft off or follow. However, the quad cramp kicked in again halfway around. Again, I eased off, kept it still and it went but it felt tight, which wasn't good.

Getting out of the swim felt amazing, and it turns out I was through within the first 30 or so swimmers in a time of 50:00, which is amazing given the conditions, though I knew I had been swimming well. As we came off the beach, we had to climb a switchback walkway which ascended 150m to the town above. Due to the relocated swim, there was a mini transition here where we grabbed our trainers and then made the one mile run across Tenby to the proper transition area. There had been quite a bit of controversy and disillusionment about this long run to transition the day before but it soon became very obvious that, due to the difficulty of the course, IM Wales wasn't a course you did to record a good time but rather a tough one that you did to say you'd finished, and so the long transition became part of that challenge.

Since the race, almost everyone I've spoken to has insisted that in future years the organisers keep the swim on North Beach with the trainer transition and the 'Tenby Mile' run to T1. It was fun to do but also reward for the amazing throngs of spectators who came out to support us – I high fived my way almost the whole way through town.

Eventually, I got to T1 where I was made to feel very slow and clumsy. Being out of the water so quickly, I was right up there among (and even ahead of) pros and top age groupers, who steamed through their transition. I knew it was going to be a longer day ahead for me, so took my time putting on compression socks, arm warmers and making sure I had nutrition. Then it was time for the bike...

Wales is calling

I love a good old-fashioned home-spun saying (nervous as a two-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, being a favourite), but the one that applies most right now, I think, is this one: the hay is in the barn! That's how I feel – I'm as ready as I can be for this race. The rest of the week is just about recovering well, and making sure I turn up to the start line in the best shape and spirits possible.

Later today, I'll pick my bike up – it's been for a last minute service to make sure the gears and brakes are working well – and then I'm going to start packing, as I'll be making my way down to Tenby tomorrow morning.

There's quite a lot to do once down there. As well as some light running and riding, there's registration, briefing, the expo, official swims of the course; I want to drive at least one loop of the bike course to know what's in store, then there's prepping the bike, transition bags and special needs bags.

As there's a lot to do, I have, of course, made a list and a timetable! Matt the OCD triathlete rears his ugly head once again. I know what I need to do and where I need to be when – which may sound over the top but, for me, just means less to worry about.

Bizarrely, now that I've given into the fact that it's going to be a slow and hilly race in far-from-ideal conditions, I'm really looking forward to it. It's going to be a blood and guts battle, and I've certainly got plenty of guts. I've run through my race plan (what nutrition I'll take on when etc) several times and feel ready for the fight. My legs are still a tad heavy, but with very light training this week I'm sure they'll feel good on the day.

I can't wait to get down there and immerse myself in the atmosphere now.

Five days and counting..!

Less than one week!

This weekend marked the last training sessions of any real difficulty at all. From now on in, it's just very short spins and jogs to keep the legs going.

I bit off a little more than I intended to chew yesterday. After a two hour hilly ride the day before, I was looking for another two hour ride of about 55kms on flattish ground. I thought I knew just the ride – out along the Denbigh road, through St Asaph, and then hit Ryhl, Prestatyn and come back along the coast road.

The sun shone (for once) and it was a lovely day. But as I arrived in Rhly it was clear hat I'd misjudges the length of the ride. Another hour and, as I climbed a whopping great hill out of Flint, it was clear I'd misjudged the hilliness of this ride. So, 3 hours and 85kms later, I got home!

My legs ached and I was a bit miserable towards the end but this had more to do with my preparation than anything else – mentally, for me, a two hour ride is a short spin; anything longer is a bigger ride. Therefore, I'd not used chamois cream (and saddle soreness started creeping in), took very little water and nutrition out with me and no money to stop and get a Coke when energy levels started dwindling.

It was a bit of a rookie error but also something of an eye-opener. A three hour ride is really nothing to me – I've done it tens and tens of times before. It's easy – unless I'm expecting a two hour ride. It's about managing expectations.

I have to confess, I've let things get a little on top of me the past few days – thinking about times, what could go wrong etc. But I've decided to shed all that worry – it's a long race to carry stress around on the shoulders too! I'm going to manage my expectations – and my only expectation for next Sunday is that I'll do my best and have fun. Enjoy the ride! After all, how many people get to experience racing in an Ironman? If I spend too much time worrying about my average times up hills, I could miss the fun of taking part.

So, new attitude. Legs feel sore – so what, go get a massage? Weather forecast isn't great – no, but it is improving. It's a tough hilly course – but it'll be a beautiful one too.

So, six days and counting..!

One man's taper is another man's sprint

Yesterday was a semi-rest day, with just a 45 minute jog on the programme, and one of my top mates Andy came along to join me on the run. It's fair to say that, in the past, both Andy and I have yo-yo'd about a bit in terms of weight and fitness but have both managed to put it all together over the past few years and make it stick. For me, that means triathlon; for him, like most guys with a family, it's a few sessions a week to keep the weight off and the ticker healthy.

We ran a route that we'd run many years ago – maybe four or five years, just at the beginning of this prolonged 'health kick' that has brought me as far as the start line of an Ironman. Back then, Andy powered through and I followed, a sweaty, asthmatic mess. Now, Andy regularly runs a couple of 10kms each week, so he's not exactly flat out of shape but this time it was him who was struggling. And, as he said later, 'you weren't even breaking sweat on that were you?' – although I tried to sugarcoat it a little, the answer was no. It was exactly what I needed – an easy trot to get the legs moving. But certainly no more.

The reason I bring this up – other than to blow loud and proud on my own trumpet! – is to comment how important it is to look back every now and then and see where you've come from. I really want to knock 5 minutes off my 10k run time in an Olympic distance triathlon – that's one of my main goals for after Ironman – but it feels like an enormous task and one that I'm not sure I'm getting any closer to. Until I look back. Maybe to the first time I ran around Arabian Ranches and was happy to complete the 10k in one hour; or to my first ever triathlon when I ran just over 30 minutes for 5k. Then it's clear that I am on the right road and will reach my target if I keep working for it. I think progress is quite hard to spot until it's already been made.

On another note, the taper is going quite well. I've busied myself with seeing family, not to mention a bite to eat and a few beers out in Chester with Andy last night (another significant landmark: my last alcoholic drinks before the big day!). I've ordered a box of my gels of choice (Gu Chocolate Outrage, for anyone interested!) and C02 cartridges which should be delivered in the next day or two – I know both of these will probably be available at the Ironman Expo but, at this point, I'm taking no risks.

Today, it's an 80 minute easy run with a 45 minute masters swim session this evening. Most of the intensity has been dropped from my workouts now, with just a few short sharp efforts in each session to trigger the fast twitch fibres and kickstart glycogen reserves. I'm also running through a few easy stretches a couple of times a day. By and large, I'm feeling good, fit, focused and raring to go...the only downer being the weather forecast for Ironman weekend – cold, very wet and very windy. Well, they don't call it the world's hardest race for nothing...tho Ironman Australia suddenly sounds way more attractive!

10 days and counting...

Stop! Taper time.

It's been a few days since I've posted on this here blog and for that I apologise, folks. Contrary to popular belief, I didn't spend the weekend hospitalised after a violent altercation with a group of road bikers (see last blog); actually, I was down south for a wedding and had a most lovely weekend.

After a good brick session on Friday (110km ride into 6.5km run), I hopped on the train down to London where I spent a great night drinking wine, a little too much brandy and catching up with Marcus and Bianca – old friends from my days living in Spain and two of my all-time fave people.

The following morning, a couple of other friends – Hannah and Jenny – picked me up and we headed down to the New Forest for the wedding of my boss and her bloke...or Claire and Dave as they're also known. The wedding wasn't till Sunday so Saturday avo saw loads of us head off on hired bikes for a ride through the New Forest, taking in a picnic stop, a game of rounders and a pint en route. Although far from a training session, I did count this as active recovery – 25kms counts for something, right? The ride also served to convince anyone who didn't already think I'm insane for doing triathlon/Ironman that I am indeed a bit nuts – needless to say, after years without riding a bike, there were lots of sore legs and bums by the end of the afternoon.

There was a lovely meal and some excellent drinking done that evening and then, bright and early the next morning, I headed out for a long run. And what a joyful experience that was. I started out following the route we'd cycled the previous day, but then got a bit lost...and didn't care a jot. I ran through woods, fields, along paths and off-road. When one path ended, I decided there and then which way to continue. I hopscotched puddles like small lakes, raced dogs out being walked, ran after the wild ponies that live throughout the New Forest...I passed people having picnics, folks playing rounders and frisbee, horseriders, bikers, lumberjacks, horse-drawn carriages, mushroom pickers...it was amazingly good fun. So much so, that by the time I got back to my digs in Brockenhurst (thanks in part to my awesome Garmin 310xt GPS watch – it doesn't have full maps but can show you the direction and distance to where you started – and worked fine even when I was under a thick canopy of trees), I'd run 21k and averaged around 5:30/km pace, which isn't bad at all when most of the run wasn't on roads and involved gates, styles, marshes and puddles. I also felt fresh as a daisy coming back and could have run the whole thing again without much bother at all – in fact, I'd have loved to!

It's something I'm going to try to incorporate into my training when I get back to Dubai too. Obviously, beautiful green forests are in short supply over there but I think it's important to maintain the fun of running/working out. Rather than commit to a route or distance, I'll try to just head out and run without such tight plans - I'm also going to try some mountain/wadi runs and will continue to hit the beach for some great barefoot sessions kicking up water as I run along the sand. 

So, the next couple of days: beautiful wedding, overindulging (on meat and Guinness), long day of trains and coffee shops, finally home.

Today, I did a two hour ride on pretty easy terrain and a shorter but faster swim session than usual this evening – and with that, the two week taper into Ironman Wales has officially begun. I know that I'm going to start second-guessing my readiness and be tempted to fit in some harder sessions here and there but I also know that's pointless – it's all about reducing the volume, upping the intensity and getting plenty of rest.

I reckon that could all be easier said than done. But, for now, I'm embracing the taper.

12 days and counting...

Easy like Sunday morning

It's all been pretty whistlestop since I got back to Blighty. Between my overnight flight, heading down to Cornwall at 4am and a morning swim session, I've still not had a chance to have the lie-in I'd been so looking forward to. In fact, I've been just as busy as when I'm in work!

Although in Ironman 'you're really only racing yourself' etc etc, I see rest and recovery as one thing I should have over most of my fellow competitors. Sure, I've weddings and friends to see and some work to do from home, but compared to the majority of folk who'll likely have their 9 to 5 to maintain right up until a few days before, for a lot of my time I'm free to train, taper and chill out.

Yesterday evening, we headed to Liverpool to visit my grandfather, aunts and uncle and it was fairly late getting back. I was due an hour in the pool and an hour on the bike today but, as tomorrow is just a 50 minute steady run, I opted to postpone the early swim sesh in favour of not setting an alarm clock for the first time in ages.

It was lovely tho the extra hour or so in bed (I was still up by 8.30) just made me even more tired and I even feel a bit ill today – my glands have swollen for sure. This always seems to happen – perhaps you carry all those little ailments and fatigue in your body and, while you're going 100mph it doesn't have a chance to catch up, but when you do finally slow down...

Better it catches up now, is my theory. So, this evening I did an hour at a spinning class with my mum (although it's not a permanent substitute for cycling in any way, I like spinning to mix things up from time to time and add some higher intensity work than you do on the road) and now I'm planning a bit of a read and an early night.

Tomorrow, it's an early start for that swimming session I missed today and then a 50 minute steady run. Other than that, I think maybe a bath and a nap may be in order. And much the same for Thursday, if you please!

Taking it easy is something I normally find pretty hard work but, now I've started thinking of it as my secret weapon, it's something I'm much more willing to embrace.