Get Ready For The Dubai Tri Season

Bright and early tomorrow morning, our local triathlon kicks off here in the Middle East with the Aerofit Sprint Tri. And I do mean bright6 and early – due to the heat and the logistical issues of closing roads down to drive-happy Duabians, all our races kick off at an ungodly (should that be an un-Allahly?) time. Tomorrow, the gun will go of at 6:15am, which means a 4am alarm call for me.

This series has been the bread and butter of the local tri scene for a while. There area other races but this one takes place almost every month throughout winter and so is a god chance to test yourself and see how training is progressing. For beginners, it’s also a really nice and friendly way to get involved – well, it’s how I started.

Although a ‘sprint’ tri, in the past it’s been a little idiosyncratic in that it’s been a 750m swim around a seawater canal (following the canal in a semi circle so no buoy turns), followed by a transition that involved running up 50 steps (my quads are burning just thinking about it), a 26km bike and, finally, a run that measured around 5.6k.

For this year, however, the course has changed slightly to be much closer to a traditional sprint with a slightly longer bike ride of 22km the only deviation from the traditional 750-20-5 set-up. It’s also a loop swim in the sea.

I’m really excited to get racing again – I love the atmosphere and  camaraderie or racing – although, if I’m being honest with myself, I’m not expecting much in terms of my performance. It’s less than three weeks since Ironman and I’ve done next to no training since then – you’re really only supposed to pick it up again after three weeks. On the small runs I have managed, my legs have been slow and heavy, as if they’re made from some particularly hideous lead and treacle alloy. Then there’s the fact that the training you do for short stuff differs markedly from the way you train for the long slog of Ironman, so I’ve little speed in my legs anyway.

Entries are capped at 250 for these sprints and demand is high so I had to enter weeks before Ironman. I decided I’d feel awful if I’d fully recovered and was raring to go and couldn’t race coz I hadn’t entered; now that I’m entered, I figure I may as well race. Worst case scenario, I’ll try to hammer out the swim and bike and pull up for the run if I feel I might do myself any damage – if I feel OK, I’ll carry on. It’s not going to be fast, but it’ll lay down a marker on this course for me to try to improve on as the season and my fitness progress.

Anyway, between now and the start line lies magazine deadline day. This means I could get out of work anywhere between 6pm and 2am…which has happened before and isn’t the ideal preparation for a triathlon, no matter how short. So, two days of endurance events the way I see it!

Check back over the weekend and I’ll have a full race report for you along with some pics of the first race of our local season. Cheers! 

Should amateur triathlon races have a 'semi pro' category?

Other than the couple of times I've managed to blag press passes and therefore enjoy swanning around the pit lane and sipping free drinks in the Paddock Club, I have to confess that I've never been a fan of Formula 1. It does nothing for me. But I love Jenson Button - he's a cool guy who seems humble and grateful while acknowledging how lucky he is and having a whale of a time with it. Exactly the type of millionaire we'd all like to think we'd be!

But it's not his attitude that I like; JB is a triathlete - and a bloody good one at that. There are two great rules in life: never trust a man who says he doesn't like football, and triathletes are always ace people. I've met a couple of exceptions, but on the whole they hold water.

However, I recently read an article singing JB's praises - a sort of 'how does he manage to do it all?' piece. Hang on a minute, I thought, this is a guy who's paid vast sums of money to stay fit. Swim/bike/run has been part of a driver's training for ages, and drivers from Alex Wurtz to Nico Rosberg have taken that further by participating in triathlon. JB gets his kit free from sponsors, I'm sure he's never paid an entry fee in return for a badly printed Fruit of the Loom t-shirt, and he has what not even Macca, Crowie, Chrissie or the Brownlees can afford: round the clock access to a wind tunnel.

Now, none of this detracts from what a damn fast triathlete JB is, but it seems a little unfair that, if I pitch up to the London Triathlon next year (another event, by the way, that is run by the devil's representatives on earth), I could be racing in the same category as basically the best funded pro triathlete on the planet!

Of course, this is unlikely to happen. But it did get me thinking about a scenario that occurs at every race in every country. I'm nowt special, but a decent enough triathlete - I'll come in the top 25% in most races, top 35% in the really big international ones and, in the smaller ones, I might even occasionally scrape a top 10. But of those who beat me, a decent percentage work either in the fitness industry or armed forces. Hardly fair that us pen-pushing, office-bound journalists, doctors, accountants, receptionists, telesales staff, MDs, CEOs, construction workers, HR managers...whatever...have to do an honest day's work and then head out to train, while these folks get paid to stay in shape! So, I propose a new 'semi pro' category of super fast guys and girls; while us desk jockeys do the real race. If they want a slice of the genuine action, they'll have to do the decent thing, give up their exciting and enviable careers and find a good, boring office job like the rest of us.

Just in case race organisers don't take me up on this, I'm going to organise my own triathlon. First, you have to blag your way into an exclusive invite-only event and eat a tray full of canapes and down 10 bottles of Peroni; next, organise a holiday for which you'll pay half or less of the actual price in return for promising editorial coverage; finally, you have to do a magazine deadline induced 48 hour straight shift, sustained solely by Burger King deliveries and bad instant coffee...ha, then we'll see how they like it when it's stacked in us journos' favour!

Being a bit of a Deva

It's just been announced that the annual Olympic distance triathlon that takes place in Chester (more or less my home town) will be a UK qualifier for the ITU World Age Group Champs, which will take place in New Zealand towards the end of the year.

I have to confess that this is extremely tempting. Getting a World Champs slot would be a long shot but since I took up triathlon, I've wanted to do the Deva Tri (who doesn't want to do their home town race?) and between now and the New Year I'm planning on really concentrating on Oly distance racing, so it'd be good to see just how I measure up against other top age groupers back home by then.

The only issue is the date - the race takes place on 1 July and I'm already planning on going back to the UK for a family wedding in the middle of May. Of course, there's nothing to say I can't go back twice but I'm also conscious that I don't want to spend all my holidays in the UK, as I have this year. Part of the draw of living in the UAE is being closer to hundreds of other places I may not get to see again. So, decisions decisions...

In other tri-related news, it turns out that being perennially single isn't the colossal character flaw, fear of commitment or sign of terminal ugliness that most people tend to think...it's just a decent commitment to exercise. This article in The Telegraph reveals that marriage leads to more sickness and less exercise! ha, in your face smug couples.

Right, that'll do. I've an awesome, healthy, exercise-packed single life to go off and lead. Byeeeee.

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...