Did someone say FREE speed?

[Pete Jacobs riding to 2nd place - IM World Champs, Hawaii]

I’ll admit I’m a bit sceptical when it comes to tri gear and gadgets. I’m from the old school of hard work/more training equals results and all too often in the sport of swim, bike and run, I see people with all the gear and no idea. The sport of triathlon is a marketer’s dream so it’s hard not to get sucked into the mayhem.

That said, I’ve reached a point in my triathlon journey where the margins for gains are getting smaller and smaller, and the little voice in my head questioning what if? What if I’m not riding in the optimum position to allow me to run efficiently off the bike? What if I reduced my bike split by 15 minutes? What if I could run a sub-3:30 Ironman marathon. What if I could be faster?


So I took the plunge. It wasn’t hard to decide where to go. Word-of-mouth talks.

Arriving at Freespeed’s premise on Power Road (surely a good omen!) I was filled with excitement and hesitation. £180 is a lot of tin and couldn’t (shouldn’t) I figure my set-up out on my own? The small voice had returned. A few moments on from meeting Richard, all my concerns were squashed. Just in the early exchanges we had, he put my mind to rest, without him knowing what my concerns were in the first place.

So onto the fit…

Starting with questions around my triathlon career goals and results we moved into simple flexibility testing. All the time explaining the reason behind the stretches. Even without getting on the bike, Richard made a crucial change. Convinced I’d set-up my cleat positioning correctly, Richard showed me a brilliant foolproof way to be sure. Sure as shit, I was proved wrong.

Freespeed 1 Troy 0.

Unlike the rest of the SBR world, I’m not a numbers person. This angle, that reach, blah, blah, blah. Get on your bike and ride. But spend 10-12 hours a week training and this data does become important. After being ‘noded up’ to resemble that of a crash test dummy, I set about doing the pedal interval tests. Seeing the Boeing 747 cockpit like set of numbers show up on the big screen in front of me was slightly intimidating, but Richard talked through all the data (without the jargon) explaining the figures and where he wanted me to end up.


A little tinkering here and tailoring there left me in a position both of us were happy with. But for me, aside from the Retul technology which many bike fitters use, Richard constantly added tips, tricks and advice to be more aero, faster and a better rider. It’s these ‘value-added extras’ that really impressed me and have stayed with me. Richard has a genuine want to share the knowledge and insight he’s gained through experience over his impressive career. This passion can be seen in the brand he’s created. It has a huge ‘giving back’ feel about it. I’ll certainly be following Freespeed’s development with great interest.



The point of this post wasn’t to give the in ands outs of a bike fit (that’s Richard’s job), but more a feel for why I think it was money very well spent. In the sessions I’ve done on the turbo since (frothing to hit the road but these Northern Hemisphere conditions don’t allow for a TT outing), I can notice the difference. No numb nuts, less tightness in the hips – the list goes on.

In summary, I should have gone ages ago. If you’re going to invest time and energy into a sport you love, it’s worth it. As Richard himself said, getting a bike fit won’t suddenly turn you into Fabian Cancellara. But what it does do is give me the confidence to train and race as hard as possible, knowing I’m getting the best out of what I have.

Got to run. I have a turbo session waiting.



Some images ‘borrowed’ from the Freespeed website.

freespeed.co.uk

Swashbuckler Middle Distance Triathlon

Build-up

Other than not being able to run as much as I should have due to allowing my calf to recover and repair, I was raring to go. Swim training had been good, if not great. Same for the bike.

So going into the race, my only worries were:

1. Would my calf hold out?

and

2. Would my legs handle a half marathon with the minimal running I’d done leading up to the race?

Funny how sometimes the things you worry the least about, trouble you the most.

Race morning

Is there anything worse than diving to the start of a race in the pissing rain? Added to that, the trees looked like they were lying flat on the ground. Oh, and did I mention it was 3:30am? Yip, due to tides, kick-off was at 5:15am.


I’d planned on racing with my newly purchased aero-wheel cover. With the wind blowing a gale, I chickened out and removed it before racking. A decision I’m still regretting. This was a ‘B’ race and as such I should have tested the cover. Live and learn.

Setting up in transition the rain and wind started to ease slightly which was great.

Race time

Getting into the water I was frothing. It’d been ages since I last raced and I was keen to give this a proper go. Being a strong swimmer, I positioned myself on the front of the start line. There was a slight current running meaning an easier swim to the turnaround buoy but then more effort required for the return. It’s a two-lap, course.

Swim

The siren sounded and I put in a few hard strokes to get things going (Sounds like the opening line of the World Wanking Champs – ha ha ha). After a few metres I noticed a large pack coming past so drifted towards them. They were going quick and it felt too early to be pushing that hard. Mistake 1.

I kept a steady pace but in doing so didn’t sight as much as I should have. Mistake 2, a schoolboy mistake! When I finally looked up, I noticed I’d swum too far to the right. I tracked left and got to the turnaround buoy. For the rest of the swim it just felt like I kept losing places. On reflection, I lacked the speed. I’ve got too used to swimming ‘long’ at a nice steady, comfortable pace. In a half Ironman it’s full gas from the word go. 1,900m is short and should be raced, not just swum. Hard lesson to learn but glad I learnt it on a ‘B’ race.

I may come across as being too hard on myself considering I came out 13th (unlucky number alright) but being my best/strongest discipline, I’d hoped to be inside the top 10. Including transition, I swam a 32:49. A below-par result.


Bike

After a quick T1, I hopped onto Felty, looking forward to a ride around the beautiful New Forest. The morning rains had left the roads soaked. Starting out, it felt like I was riding with the brakes on. Having only taken the aero-wheel cover off minutes before racking, I thought maybe I’d knocked the brake onto the rim. My first thought was to stop and check but then thankfully I remembered there’s the option of opening up the brakes by turning the small knob on the brake callipers. Even after opening the brakes up, it felt like I was riding through hummus. It then suddenly stuck me. Wet roads = sticky roads. I had a small chuckle to myself and pushed harder on the pedals. I couldn’t help giggling as I passed at least three guys stopped on the side of the road spinning their back wheels thinking they too had brake issues. Another great lesson learnt and one for the Experience Bank.

The Swashbuckler bike course is breathtaking. Not only because my heart rate was sitting at165bpm, but because of the pure beauty. Open space, wild ponies and quiet roads. It’s a big chain ring course but with the wind up, it was tough going. I tried to pace off other riders (not daft – I NEVER draft), with the occasional rider flying past me. But I generally held my position and hammered away.

Only at about 40km (of 80km) did I feel like I was ‘racing’. Up until then I wasn’t comfortable. It felt really hard going and my mood was very negative. Maybe it was a result of the poor swim, who know? But on a half, there’s no time to ‘get into’ the bike. It needs to be smash, smash, smash from the word go.

I can happily go so far as to say it is one of the best bike courses I’ve ever ridden. On some sections you could see for miles ahead with the guys all spread out. Boy would I have loved to have had a camera. And the time of course.

I fuelled well on the bike. Nearing the end of the ride I was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Again a result of the pan flat course which meant being down in the drops longer than any of the training rides I’d done. Time in the saddle doesn’t equate to time in the TT position. Some longer turbo sessions are definitely needed. The final 10km were brutal into a hectic headwind.


Bike split – 2:17:59.

Run

The only hold-up in T2 was getting my socks onto numb feet. It was more annoying than time wasting as it probably only made a difference of the few seconds.


Having been worried about the run since the horn sounded, I ran out of T2 hard, hoping any problems would surface sooner rather than later (shorter walk back!). But as with life sometimes, the thing I was most concerned about worried me the least. Not a single grumble from the calf or legs for that matter, except for my hamstring attacking me. But that was self-inflicted. Let me explain…

As already mentioned, I ran out of T2 with numb toes. About a kilometre into the run, it felt like I had a stone or berry stuck under the sole of my shoe. I knew it wasn’t inside my shoe as I would have felt that from the first few steps, so I could only guess it was lodged in the sole. Without thinking, I stopped and very stupidly lifted my right foot up towards my face. The sniper rifle fired. Well, that’s at least what it felt like. My hamstring instantly cramped and I quickly shot my leg out into a straight position. I must have scared my fellow competitors as I screamed out in agony. I screamed LOUD. Instinct kicked in and I just ran. The cramp faded quickly but boy did it give me a massive fright. Another good lesson learnt – no quick, impulse movements when it comes to legs and their muscles.


The 22.5km run is a two-lap affair, passing the finish at the halfway point. Getting to said halfway/finish point involves a fairly steep grassy hill (which we also had to run up after the swim) but other than that, it’s a fairly flat course that’s best described as lumpy. There’s a 2 or 3km section of trail near the end of each lap, which I absolutely love. It’s through a tall tree forest with the Beaulieu River to the left. I embraced the scenery and told myself how lucky I was to be racing in such a stunning environment.

I tried my best to ‘race’ the run, going with a runner when they came alongside me for as long as I could hold on. I targeted runners ahead who I could see were suffering/slowing and made sure to pass them with a little spurt of pace hoping they’d not bother to chase.


I held onto a fairly decent pace, starting out at well below 4:30s but slowed to around 4:40 pace on some of the final kilometres. With not worries with the calf, I felt stoked to be running with confidence again. This really helped my mindset and I pushed the final 2km along the trail, around the corner and onto the grassy ‘knoll’. I crossed the finish line knowing I’d run to the best of my ability. A great feeling.

Run split – 1:40:40

Total time – 4:31:30

30th overall. 9th in age catergory.

So, I went into the racing wanting to smash the swim and bike. What happens, I smash the run and fluff the swim and bike. It’s a cruel old world. But that’s what keeps it exciting. No two races will ever be the same, and it’s the experiences and lessons learnt that make the next one that much better.

Organisation

Five star. It can’t be easy putting on a race around the New Forest. They’re a vocal and understandably passionate community so any indiscretion (litter, dangerous riding, etc) gets the locals up in arms. The organisers put huge emphasis on this at the compulsory Saturday race briefing.

When being briefed, it was easy to tell that the Race Director has a genuine passion for the event versus it being just another moneymaking opportunity. They wanted to put on the best possible race they could. And they certainly did.


Along with the award for best bike course, they hands down win the ‘best medal’ award too. Not your run of the mill bronze medal. A lovely touch was the Race Director himself handing out the medals as we crossed the finish, thanking us for partaking in his race. We also received a great t-shirt, which I’ve used already to run in.

If you ever get the chance to race the Swashbuckler, I can’t recommend it highly enough. Entries sell-out fast so you’ll have to be move quick! But that’s the point.

Speedo Open Water 10km Swim

I sit here writing just hours after completing my first 10km swim. I enjoyed it so much I thought I’d share the experience.

Why swim 10km?

I love swimming. It’s certainly my strongest of the three triathlon disciplines. Having raced two Ironmans over the last two years, I decided this year is about new and different challenges. Events that pushed the comfort zone or which a PB would not be possible. I’d got into a rut of only racing events where I’d have the chance to set new best times. Just the thought of swimming 10km in one go scared me, yet made me feel excited about giving it a go. So I did.


Preparation

Not ideal but when is it ever? I raced a middle distance triathlon one week ago and raced it quite hard at that. It left me pretty knackered at the start of the week. I managed a 2.4km swim on Tuesday and that was that. No amount of swimming in the lead-up week was going to make a difference anyway. The other area of preparation I was clueless about was nutrition. How do you fuel before and during a 10km swim? Learning is all part of the fun I guess.


Venue

It doesn’t get much better than Dorney Lake. Venue for the Sprint Kayaking and Rowing events at the 2012 London Olympics. And to think, it’s a school’s facility. Those Eton boys have it good. Having done a few tri races there before I knew what to expect. The only difference this time was that we were swimming in the return/warm-up area that sits to the side of the main lake. Two feed stations were set up on pontoons in the water at each end of the course so we never needed to exit the water at any point.

10km course = 3 loops. Straight up and back.


The race

Being a 10km, I thought people would take the start chilled (which of course we all were due to the water temperature) but man was I wrong. Off went the siren and on came the boxing gloves. I stayed relaxed and never got agro. After all, there was a long, LONG way still to go.


Nutrition wise I had a gel 15 minutes before entering the water and left a juice bottle and two gels at the athlete feed station.

I found some open water, got my breathing regulated and got into some long gliding strokes. Breathing to my right it was quite enjoyable seeing all the spectators walking along the bank. It made me think that if you’d want to take it super seriously, you could get someone to walk alongside at a specific pace and stay with them.

A great surprise after about ten minutes was seeing some mates who’d taken a detour on their ride to come and lend some support. I acknowledged them with a devil’s horns hand signal, followed by pulling a tongue, just to make sure they knew I’d seen them. It was a great motivator and much appreciated as it looked colder out the water than in!

Back to the swim. Well, I just swam. I sighted every now and then, sat on a pair of feet and drafted at times but I can’t really think what else occupied my mind. I sang, thought about my breathing, pace, life and about a 100 other random things.

My pacing strategy was to try do the swim under 2h45m. This works out at 1:39min/100m pace for the swimmers amongst you.


Completing the second lap (6.6km mark) I was thinking about laughing off any nutrition. I was feeling strong, weeing quite a bit (which told me I wasn't dehydrated) and worried that stopping would lose me time and placings. But then a few negative thoughts started creeping in (a negative mood is my first indication of needing to get fuel onboard) so made the call to get a gel. The feed stop was quick and I never lost any placings – result.

With the final lap to go, I decided to up the stroke rate and push a little harder. It had felt easy going. Rounding the top buoy for the last time was a big boost. Roughly 30 minutes to go. And about 10 minutes later is about when I started to feel uncomfortable. Heavy arms, aching shoulders and core, etc. I concentrated hard on my technique but think at this point I was squirming around like an eel.

The best way to describe the final 15 minutes is to imagine hardener being added to a tub of resin. Slowly but surely the mixture starts to harden. It felt like the water was turning to jelly.


At 200m to go I kicked as hard as my legs could and finished with a ‘sprint’ for the line. Job done. 2h48m30s. Bleak not to go under 2h45m but overjoyed to have completed my first ever 10km swim.

I’ll definitely be back for more, but maybe that’s because I’ve got water on the brain.


Organisation

Human Race run a slick operation. They’re a business and their entry fees reflect this. That said, their events are popular and professional. Plus the number of marshals and safety staff on course was praiseworthy. Thanks to all these people.

There were 750m, 1500m, 3000m and 10,000m swim options. Personally I think the starts could have been staggered better. I was very surprised at the number of 3000m competitors I caught and had to swim thought. This is always going to be an issue on a looping course and Human Race can’t help if people start breaststroking after 50m.

All entrants were issued with a t-shirt. Happy days. But no medal/finishers gift? Maybe I’m an endurance snob but I’d love to have been given something showing I’d done the 10km versus the 750m. A minor thing which shouldn’t overshadow a great event. Long may they continue to do these swim only races.

Virgin London Marathon Tips

So this morning I reached the verdict that I won't be racing this year's Virgin London Marathon. Words can't describe the disappointment but that's life sometimes.

In the interest of hopefully helping any first-timers, I wrote a list of tips. Sharing is caring!

So, you’ve done the hard bit (well nearly), you’re fit, healthy and raring to go. Obviously stick to whatever you’re used to and only take advice on the things you might find helpful. Get a good night’s sleep on Friday, it’s the most important night. Stay off you your feet on Saturday (you could go for an ultra slow 15 minutes jog), drink water (don’t glug it down, it will only make you wee it all out) and relax on the couch all day!

• Pack your marathon bag and lay your race day outfit out, the night before. It will help you sleep as you won’t be thinking about what you need to pack/remember.

• Take your race number, scrunch it into a small ball and then open it up fully again. Making it crumply stops it from acting like a sail while you’re running. (Trust me, this is one of the best tips I’ve ever been given.)

• Smear your feet (esp. toes) in Vaseline when you put your socks and shoes on in the morning. It will feel squidgy for a few minutes but then your feet absorb it and it stops the blistering. Honest.

• Pack a loo roll to take with you to the start.

• Rather get there early and sit around at the start than have to jog to the start if you’re late. It’s a bit of a walk from the station. Going early also means you might get a seat on the train on the way there.

• Take an old ‘throw-away’ t-shirt and a bin bag (cut 3 holes for head and arms) to wear once you’ve put your finish bag on the truck. If cold, run with them on for a few miles until you’re feeling warm and then bin them. Don't waste energy trying to keep warm while you wait in the start pens.

• Take water to sip and a banana to eat before the gun goes off.

• Stretch a little before the start but don’t worry about doing a jog to warm-up. You’ll have plenty time to get warm.

• Make sure you run self-sufficient. Don’t hope to receive something from a supporter/loved one. If the trains have issues and the person isn’t where you expect them, you’ll be stressing. It’s a bonus if you do get something extra along the way but don’t rely on it.

• Don’t stress if the going is slow at the start. Think of it as a blessing as starting out too quickly will come back to haunt you later on. Seriously don’t worry if you feel the pace is too slow. Because you’ve trained well, the first half of the race will feel easy. It’s the second half that you’re saving it for.

• Run consistent. Stick to your mile splits but if you feel it’s too hard to keep reaching them, slow down a few seconds and reassess your goal time. (Better to slow down than blow up.)

• Take water from the end of the watering tables. It’s less busy. There’s so many watering tables, only drink when you feel you need to, not at each one. Don’t carry your water you pick up. Take one, have a few sips and throw it. Energy is wasted carrying it.

• Most importantly, enjoy it. Soak up the atmosphere. It’s incredible! You’ll get goose-bumps. It’s like running in a stadium for 26.2 miles. People will shout your name; raise a hand and smile (if you can). It’s so much fun, but don’t get too excited in the first half. All the adrenaline will make you want to run faster. Save it for a sprint finish.

• The last bit on the Mall will blow you away. Tears will flow, you’ll feel as light as air, and that’s it, you’ve done it!

Good luck! Let me know how you get on. Hopefully I'll shout your name along the way.

The cost of getting sick

In light of Chrissie’s recent withdrawal at the IM World Champs, it got me thing about racing when not 100%. Everyone (including myself) agrees she made the right choice not to stand on the start line, but what about us normal age-group (non-pro) athletes? Would we make the right choice? And is our choice harder?


Cowman '09 - suffering!

A few years back, the week before the Cowman Half Ironman, I started coming down with something. At first I pushed those early feelings deep down, trying to ignore them, but as the race got closer, I knew things weren’t right.

Common sense obviously says, laugh off the race, it’s not the end of the world and there will be others. But then again, common sense thinks we’re idiots for doing these gruelling races in the first place. For me, it comes down to time and money, and it’s these very factors that affect pros less.

Due to T & M, I can pretty much only race two half Ironmen in a season, building up to and finishing with an IM. Let’s not forget either that as an age-grouper, races sell out quickly, to a point where we have to enter months (in some cases,12 months) in advance.

So let’s get back to my situation. Here I am thinking – this race is vital to my IM build up. I’ve paid 80 odd pounds (and Cowman is one of the cheaper races) to race and spent many, many hours training to get myself into shape. In the back of my mind, I’m thinking, all the other races in the calender have sold out many moons ago and I can’t even get a refund should I pull out. So what did I do, I raced.

And I suffered. It destroyed weeks of training, put me on the back foot mentally and most importantly, could have caused long term, life-threatening damage. I saw the same thing happen this year to my training partner. Coincidently, at the same race. I caught him on the run (which is VERY rare) and could see he was experiencing what I did the year before. He was half the athlete he normally is. And he suffered big time for a few weeks after too, both physically and mentally.


Pro athlete - Raynard Tissink

But being a pro, missing a race is kind of like taking a sick day off work. Granted they lose performance related bonuses, prize money, etc but they’ve got heaps more options to make amends for a missed race. Pros can pick and choose at late notice which races to participate in. (Correct me if I’m wrong please.)

Not for one minute am I saying it’s not hard to pull out of a race if you’re a pro, especially the World Champs. What I’m trying to say is that I think I’d struggle not to race, due to the circumstances already mentioned. I only get to race one IM a year. It’s a year of selfish commitment to train for one so to miss the big dance DOES feel like the end of the world. (I absolutely commend Chrissie for leading by example.)


My girlfriend - Chrissie Wellington ; )

My conclusion is this. I don’t think race organisers do enough to discourage racing sick. My decision not to race would be made much easier had I known I could have got my money back as a minimum, at the very least, a percentage.

I had a look on the Ironman UK website, and this is what they have to say about withdrawing from the race if it falls within 45 days of the start date:

After 45 days: NO REFUNDS WILL BE GIVEN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. The Race Office Staff are not permitted to enter into any discussion in regard to refunds. This policy has been adopted by IRONMAN UK due to action taken by previous competitors towards IRONMAN UK Staff. Any email in regard to this policy will be forwarded a standard email response reminding you of these terms and conditions and directing you to the terms and conditions and this page. Any further emails regarding this matter will not be responded to.


...but just not a refund.

Fair? So get sick the week before, or even on race day and say goodbye to £350. I know organisers would have had to make provision for you to race, but let’s be honest, what percentage of the field is going to get sick that close to the race or on race morning? They make enough money from the event that they could easily absorb this cost. Yes they should put measures in place to make sure people don’t just pull out for no reason.

Some will say £350 versus risking your life ill isn’t even worth worrying about, but trust me, it would make a HUGE difference to me.

I’d be interested to hear your thoughts, good or bad. Drop me a line.

Troy

Emotional Berlin

I’ve never met anyone who didn’t enjoy Berlin. For that very reason (and the history obviously), Barbs and I decided we had to visit this year. It so happened to lay claim to the fastest marathon course in the world too, so I conveniently suggested that we go on the weekend of the Berlin Marathon.

So both Barbs and I entered the race earlier in the year. I had the Outlaw Ironman as my main focus for 2010 with the Berlin Marathon positioned perfectly 7 weeks after. Enough time to recover but keep the fitness and endurance. Barbs unfortunately found out early on in her training runs that there was a problem with her hip. Race over. On the plus side, the problem is being sorted out and although it may require surgery, it means hopefully pain free running following her recovery.

We decided to go for enough time to do some sightseeing before, have the Saturday as a rest day (keep off the feet) and then chill after the race and only fly back on the Monday. This worked perfectly although I reckon we could spend a month in Berlin and still not see everything there is to see and do.


Something else that we did which is fairly unusual for us was to splash out on a nice hotel. It wasn’t mega expensive and we got it on a package deal with our flight, but it was 4 stars and very comfortable. More importantly, the location was perfect. From now on, I’ll happy pay a bit more to be closer to the start/finish of a city marathon. It took all the stress away from the race morning mission. 15 minutes walk to the start area, thanks for coming.

In April I ran a new marathon PB of 3:24 at the Brighton Marathon. This was off a reduced training schedule due to illness. I ran the Outlaw IM run leg in 3:45.

After the Outlaw, I followed my training partner’s advice and tried to get my running more efficient. In simple terms, the more efficiently one runs, the less energy they use. This allows the body to go for longer, quicker. So to get more efficient, the idea was to run for at least 30 minutes, every day. Ideally, you’d run the same route, with a HR monitor (I didn’t use one) and record your time. By losing weight or running with a better posture/style your time should come down. It’s also important to not up the heart rate i.e. push harder. So by keeping distance and effort (HR) constant, only efficient running will reduce the time. As I don’t have a HR monitor, I just tried to feel my effort and keep that constant while running with my hips higher, forefoot striking and head up – improvements that makes running more efficient. There is a tendency to over think things while doing this, so if you give it a go, don’t worry if it suddenly feels like you’re running funnily. The reason for the ‘every day’ repetition is to teach the body through repetition as well as hopefully lose weight through burning calories. This is hard to do while training for a triathlon (need time for swimming and biking) so it’s good to try it during an off-season or in between big races.

All of the above is obviously hardly scientific but going out trying to improve on something has to have a positive effect in the long run (excuse the pun!). I also can’t take credit for knowing the above info in detail, I got it all from my training partner who loves to research this stuff.

Perfectly timed, the opportunity came about to do a track 10,000m race with my running club. As ‘they’ say, a quick 10km is the base for a quick marathon, so targeting this run a week out from the marathon become a short term goal. Could I break 40 minutes for 10,000m? The answer – yes I could. I ran a 39:32. It hurt quite a bit but my strategy was all about pacing. Start and finish at the same pace. It worked and a week before the marathon I had a new 10km PB, but more importantly, the confidence boost I needed.

And so to Berlin.


Registration was really straightforward. I went to the Expo on the Friday to ensure I was off my feet on Saturday. What I took out of the Expo was the buzz and excitement of a big city marathon. It’s been so long since I’ve done a mass event, so the atmosphere and energy was great to soak up. Admittedly I felt less nervous as after an IM, a straight marathon feels way less daunting.


I woke up on Sunday feeling great. I was so excited to be finally here, ready to run the Berlin Marathon. I just had the feeling that today was going to be a good day. A great day. I wrapped a 3:10 pacing band around my wrist and made my way to the start. On arrival at the start, I kissed Barbs goodbye with the plan to see her at the 8, 19, 32 and 40km marks. The rain was bucketing down.


The start area was very organised. They even had specially made rain covers for us to wear. I made my way to the batched off start pens. I was allocated pen D. The vibe at the start of the race was brilliant. All the pros were introduced to the crowd to massive applause. Following some rhythmic clapping and a countdown, the gun sounded the start to the 2010 real Berlin Marathon.

I crossed the start line after about 50 seconds but best of all there was space to run the pace I needed to run. The road was soaked so most of the first few kilometres were spent dodging deep puddles of water. I settled into my 4:30/km pace quite quickly and felt great. It didn’t feel too hard and my breathing remained constant. I tried to soak up as much of the atmosphere as possible without losing focus on the job at hand. Nutrition wise, I took 9 gels. One every 20 minutes.

Before I knew it, I was at the 8km mark and saw Barbs. I couldn’t stop smiling and I shouted ‘This is awesome!’


To be honest, the rest of the race went by in a blur. I kept hitting the kilometre splits a few seconds inside the target time and kept feeling good. I tried to think positive things but there was always a nagging voice in my head that kept saying, “Come 30km, the wheels are going to fall off.” I got half a bottle of Coke off Barbs at the 19km mark and again at 32km. By 36km I could feel it was getting harder to hit the 4:30/km splits but I certainly wasn’t in the red zone. There was still something left in the tank. But when to go for broke?

I made the call with about 3km to go. By this stage I knew the chances of bonking were pretty slim and being on the ‘home-straight’ would keep me going no matter what. I pinned my ear back and pushed.


The actual home-straight is really quite long. You take a left turn and can see the Brandenburg Gate in the distance but there’s still about 1.5km to go. In my head I was sprinting, at max speed. Watching the race video, I look like I’m on a Sunday stroll. Running under the Brandenburg Gate was a special experience and it gave me the motivation to put in another kick and lift the pace for the last 200 odd metres. I crossed the line panting like an unfit, fat dog.

3:07:34

The sprint for the line ensured I achieved a negative split. I take great satisfaction out of running a NS so this just put the cherry on the top of a perfect race.


I sit here writing this having just found out that I go a place in the Virgin London Marathon. Incentive enough to try run under 3 hours?

Why is this post titled ‘Emotional Berlin’? Well, on one hand my race performance put me on such a high, but on the other, walking around Berlin reminded me of the terrible suffering people have experienced in this world. Berlin really brings this to life and there were quite a few very depressing moments. Let’s hope it a case of live and learn.


Here’s to a winter of marathon training and the search for that elusive 2:59:59!

Outlaw Triathlon Race Report

Preparation
Make no mistake; training for an Ironman (IM) is hard. It requires sacrifice, dedication, selfishness and motivation. Ask anyone who’s done an IM and they’ll explain why. This year was no different. All I can say is thanks so much to my amazing girlfriend who put up with all of the above. I also have to say a huge thanks to Beloki (my training partner and fellow competitor) for the hours of hard training, advice, training schedules and for forcing me to do it all.

Having done an IM last year really helped. It made me focus on what’s needed to do well and get faster. I think the biggest advantage came from being able to manage the nerves. Nothing makes you more nervous than the unknown.

Training wise I did the miles. Loads of them. There’s no shortcuts when it come to the IM. Train hard and you’ll get the results, bar mechanical issues. I did quite a bit more cycling and swimming this year. Riding a few 200km plus sportives made sure of this. I never need an excuse to swim, as it’s my strongest and favourite of the three disciplines, so I logged many a lap. I won’t bore you with ‘training spreadsheet’ numbers, but if you’re interested, get in touch and I’ll share them with you.

Race Build-up
The race organisers held three swim events on the Saturday. 500m, 1,500m & 3,000m. I opted for the 1,500m. I hadn’t swam much the week before and following a disastrous zigzag of a swim at the Weymouth Half IM, I wanted to get in the water, check out the course and lock in my bearings. The atmosphere was great in the water, with everyone joking and chatting. As we were swimming in a kayak regatta lake, it was a straight up, across and straight back, shaped course. Having the kayak lane markings was great to help with keeping in a straight line. The best thing about doing the ‘practice’ swim was it allowed me to get used to the weed. In patches it was really bad, like trying to swim over a net, submerged just below the surface. It got stuck on my hands, face, shoulders; you name it. The key was to not panic; swim strong and you’d get through it. I made sure to look around, stretch out, think about my technique and I even made time to wave at my support team watching from the bank. Swim done, it was time to ‘rack-up’.

As I took Felty (my bike) off the car, I noticed something was missing! One of the arm-pad rests had blown off on the drive up. After a small panic, I just thought “Don’t stress, they’ll be selling more at the Expo”. I quickly jogged back to the registration hall and looked around the various retailer stalls. NONE! I could see the sympathy on the faces of the retailers. Although it’s such a small and fortunately ‘not race ending’ piece of equipment, having comfortable arm-pad rests on a TT bike for a 180km ride is kind of a big deal. Not the stress I needed the day before the race. I even asked the Felt Bikes salesman who had a huge range of brand new Feltys if he could help me out. “Sorry dude” was the answer. Seeing all the new bikes, with glistening, shiny unused arm-pads was a killer. Time for Plan B. I cut the remaining arm-pad in half; putting one half on each armrest and taped up the hard metal surface that wasn’t covered. I knew I’d packed some sponges so could make some DIY arm-pads back at the hotel.

From a race organisation point, registration, racking and briefing was a breeze. An improvement for next year would be to increase the bag holding area. It was seriously packed once all the bags were hanging up. All this meant was really having to study the exact location of your bags. Due to the ‘arm-pad issue’ we were a little late getting to the 3pm briefing so had to sit in the corridor with the other latecomers. Had we really wanted to pay attention, we could have attended the various other briefing time slots throughout the day.

One area I really fall down in is race planning. Even the day before the race, I wasn’t quite sure of a time to aim for. I knew I wanted to go sub-60min for the swim and hopefully sub-3:45 for the marathon but not knowing the bike course, I wasn’t sure to aim for 5:15, 5:30 or even 6:00. The bike course makes and breaks a race (I learnt this at Bolton last year) so I was undecided. I’d heard Nottingham was quick, but it’s never ‘quick’ for the whole 180km. It’s easy to ride one lap and label it fast. Add a swim, some wind and 100km before and suddenly the final 80km feels slow. So my plan was to ride by feel. I’d try keep to an average speed of 34km/h but if that were too hard to sustain, I’d drop to 33.5km/h and so on. Run wise, I planned to run the first 5 miles at 3:30:00 pace and then see from there. The run course was marked with 5, 10, 15, 20 and 25mile markers - 40:00 per 5 miles for a 3:30:00 or 42:30 per 5 miles for a 3:45:00. I really wanted to go for a 3:30:00 but with a straight marathon PB of 3:24:00, I knew it was asking a lot. I wrote a few numbers/targets in marker pen on the inside of my left arm and went to sleep. Well…tried to sleep.

(Nutrition Plan – one gel 20min before the swim, a 150ml can of coke in T1, a gel every 30mins, a chicken wrap, two Mars bars and two Power bars on the bike, another 150ml coke in T2 and a gel every 20mins washed down with coke, water or High Five at the watering tables. I worked out this plan pretty much from reading what others do, etc. Not very scientific.)

Race Day
One of the reasons I don’t like staying in a hotel is the lack of a kitchen come race morning. Luckily this is normally the same issue for all races out of London so I’m used to it. Boiling water into a bowl of porridge and leave for a few minutes. Job done. Washed down with a banana and a glass of innocent smoothie. Oh, and a horrible hotel room instant coffee.

First priority when I got to transition was to tape the new DIY arm-pads onto Felty. With that sorted, I relaxed and focussed on the race ahead. Did the usual pre-race ritual – pumped up tyres, filled juice bottles, stuck Power bars to the bike, etc. Nerves were surprising calm. Bit of banter amongst competitors and before I knew it, it was time to don the wetsuit. I didn’t take the opportunity but the organisers kindly allowed everyone access to their race bags. This wasn’t allowed at IMUK last year and it’s a massive relief to know you can get to your bags in the morning if needed. We could even go so far as leaving helmets on ours bikes. I decided it was best to just trust my bag packing and leave everything on the bag racks.


Swim
The atmosphere on the start line was great! Everyone wishing each other good luck, cracking a few jokes, etc. I positioned myself in the sub-60 swim area on the far left hand side of the course. The one negative of a straight out and back swim course is that it just looks so flippen far to the turn around point. Distance over water always looks far worse than what it actually is, so I just kept telling myself that all that was required was to swim non-stop for an hour.

Everyone remained calm (well at least looked it) and behind the start line which is rare these days. I wished Beloki good luck, put my goggles in ‘race’ position and waited for the horn.

I didn’t go mad off the line but swam steadily and assertively; keeping my line when I got bumped and pushed around. I found some open water and just concentrated on my breathing. I’m a firm believer in the theory that breathing is the key to swimming well. I try settling my breathing as quickly as possible to get into a rhythm. Long, powerful strokes. Reach, catch, pull, push. Until I hit the weed patches. I knew they’d be there so remained calm, despite at times feeling like it was pulling me down. It definitely slowed me for a few seconds but I gathered it was doing the same to everyone so stopped worrying about the lost time.


I sang in my head, kept sighting to keep on course and before I knew it, it was time to turn for the stretch home. I quickly looked at my watch as I turned the last buoy and got quite a surprise when I saw 27min something. Had I done too much too early, etc, etc? So many thoughts, very little time to worry about it. I still had another 2.4km to go. I figured I might tire a little towards the end so being up on my planned sub-60min halfway split was probably a good thing. I certainly wasn’t redlining it and was swimming within my limit, which made me feel confident. As we were swimming in a sprint kayak & rowing lake, there are distance markers along the banks of the course. This was awesome as it allowed you to gauge your pace and distance left to go. So long as you added on a little as we were finishing about 250m past the official kayak course finish line. With about 1km to go, I knew I could up my pace so I pushed harder and upped my stroke rate.

I ran (fast walk) up the swim exit ramp and looked down at my watch – 54:38. WATCH OUT GRANT HACKETT! Just the confidence boost I needed early on in the day. This time put me 11th. (I have to admit, I think the course was maybe 150/200m short. But I would have still got a sub-60min swim so I’ll take it!)


T1
Wetsuit off, into transition and not much else really. To Beloki’s credit, we swam without our tri tops. We’d pre-loaded our tops with race nutrition so it was a simple matter of putting the top on, zipping up (best to use a full length zip tri top) and heading off. I think this worked ectremely well for 2 reasons. 1 – swimming with less clothing on under a wetsuit is better as it retains less water, keeping you lighter. 2 – starting the bike with a relatively dry top on is MUCH better than starting with a sopping wet one – especially racing in the UK where it’s not boiling hot that early in the morning. I opted to put my shoes on versus have them clipped in. I’d rather lose 30 seconds than try jump on the bike with shoes clipped in, fall over and end my race. Transition was very short distance wise which always helps to make a faster race.

T1 time – 03:01 (the average for the top 20 seems to be around the 02:30/03:00 minute mark so no major time to be made up here. Fastest was 01:48.)

Bike
The start of my bike leg was great. As I came out of T1 I saw Barbs and Sahara (Beloki’s wife), gave them a whoop-whoop and settled down into race mode. I made sure not to go balls to the wall too quickly so kept the speedometer at around the 35km/h mark. As the first bit of the bike course required rounding the lake, it’s dead flat so the urge to leg it is something I really had to resist. Get the legs warm and get comfy, it’s a long day yet.


For the next 20km I felt like I was on the Queen K Highway. This first section was flat, totally closed off to cars and the sun was starting to shime. I was isolated, the road surface was smooth and I was in high spirits. The sound of Felty sliding over the tarmac was music to my ears. I was probably smiling ear to ear.

After this 20km section it turns right onto the 3 lap section of the course. Support on the sides of the road was starting to build and being at the front end of the field, I got loads of shouts of encouragement. I tried to give everyone who shouted the double thumbs-up acknowledgement they deserved. The support was phenomenal. The water/feed stations were brilliant. The volunteers would run a few steps next to the bike to ensure the bottle handover was as smooth as possible. The loop was probably 2/3s undulating and 1/3 flat/downhill. The time lost in the first section was easily made up on the second section. The second portion was biking heaven. Speedo easily hitting 45/50km/h.

The only ‘issue’ I experienced on the bike was a faulty speedometer. It kept losing signal so would give the correct speed for 30 seconds and then drop off for 10 seconds and so on. It was very annoying but it’s the kind of problem I’d take any day over a flat tire, broken chain, cramp, etc. It just made me worry that I won’t be able to check my average speed correctly. Fortunately with riding many miles in training, I had quite a good feel for what speed I was doing. It was only into a headwind that I struggled to know what speed I was actually doing.

What was really encouraging was that I wasn’t getting passed by too many people. And when someone did, I was able to keep the gap between us constant for quite a few kilometres. I kept my effort steady and watched the miles tick away. At around the 70km mark Beloki caught up to me. I have to admit I was quite surprised as last year I stayed away on the bike until we reached T2 together. Beloki is super strong on the bike so I just sucked it up, accepted it and tried to match his effort. It was a nice break from the loneliness to be able to have a bit of a chat with a mate and training partner. We discussed our swim times and laughed that we didn’t have carbon bikes and deep-set carbon wheels like most of the guys we were riding alongside. I even said I thought I was the first non-aero helmet in the race. (I laugh now thinking about it – Beloki and I always joke about the fact that we use entry-level equipment so imagine what we’d do on top spec equipment!?) This banter broke the boredom and really helped take my mind off the hurt/distance still to go. It wasn’t long before Beloki started edging ahead which just felt too hard to match. (I’d like to add that at no point did we draft. I pride myself on never drafting even if there are no marshals around. You’re only cheating yourself if you do.) Little by little I noticed Beloki increase the gap until he was out of sight, even on the long straight sections.

With Beloki gone, I knuckled down and kept stamping on the pedals. All I could think about was completing the 3rd lap and getting onto the final 20km section back to transition. As with all really long bike rides, there gets a point where everything just aches. Neck, back, bum and legs. More so the neck and bum. I found myself standing on any slight incline, just to relieve the ache for a few seconds. Finally I got to the turn back point and knew it was roughly only 20km until I’d be back in transition. Just the lift I needed and I noticed a sudden surge in speed.

Nutrition wise, having a gel every 30mins helped break the ride into manageable chunks. I ate my chicken wrap around the 100km mark and ate the Power bars in small portions throughout the ride. I forced myself to drink and knowing where the water stations were on each lap helped, as I’d make sure I’d finished my bottles so I could pick up fresh ones. Stupidly at times I’d talk to myself as if I were a naughty child “Now finish that juice Troy, or else. Yes, the whole lot!” Ha ha ha. The weird things an IM does to your brain. Or maybe it’s just me!

Bike split – 05:22:01 (Average speed 33.6km/h) STOKED! (25th bike position)

T2
The organisers arranged for volunteers to take our bikes from us as we dismounted. A really nice touch.

And now I need to apologise. As I ran into the bagging area, a kind lady volunteer followed me in to help locate my run bag. I knew exactly where it was, so as I got to it, I bent down to grab it, but so too did she and I properly head butted her. I was wearing my helmet so felt nothing but the poor lady stumbled back, a little dazed. I turned to see if she was ok (she was), shouted sorry and ducked off into the changing area. Shoes on, new gels in pockets, a can of coke in my hand and I was out of T2 in 03:01.

Run
I think the brain actually blocks out the reality of running a marathon after a 180km ride. If the brain allowed the body to know what was in store, I reckon it would shut down on the spot. I felt good, great actually, as I started the run. I downed my coke and looked around at the many cheering spectators. So much fantastic support!


The run course consisted of 3 loops, each going around the regatta course and into Nottingham along the towpath. Except for the first lap where we had to run around the regatta lake twice. Coming around the lake for the first time, I saw Barbs, my mom and Sahara on the other side and they shouted to me and I smiled back. Being near the front of the field, the first time out along the towpath was REALLY lonely. I just kept doing math sums in my head relating to run and finish times. Luckily I’m really shit at maths so this takes ages, even using fingers to count at times. (That’s why I work in the creative industry!) It kills the time big time. I ran the first 5 miles on a 03:30:00 target but knew early on that I’d struggle to keep this for the rest of the run. I wasn’t at my limit but I just knew the entrance to the cave was nearing and I’d need to back off at some stage.


The run got more interesting when all the top pros started coming back towards me and I tried to count positions but with relays competitors included I got too confused and laughed off the counting. What worked really well for me was breaking the run into 5 mile portions. Each 5 miles had to last about 40 – 44mins to hit target and I need to take a gel every 20min so it became a 2 gel/40min habit. Only thinking of each 40min section made the run seem easier. Again, mind tricks work.


As I completed the 2 lap, I passed my supporters and mentioned that the cave was imminent. My mom then shouted a great piece of advice, “DON’T THINK, JUST RUN!” So all I did was put one foot in front of the other and looked at the ground in front of me. I pretty much just zoned out. I was in my own little world. And surprise, surprise, my pace increased. So much so that I thought I might go sub-10! Sometimes being terrible at maths is a good thing because thinking I could go under 10 hours allowed me to push myself. Especially because at that stage, Beloki was on schedule for a sub-10 and all I could think was that he’d do a 9:50 something and I’d get a 10 hour something and being able to claim a 9 something Ironman just sounds so much better than 10 something. Men and egos!

So I pushed the last lap. Looking at my lap split time, I don’t think I pushed so much as just held my pace, but generally at this point you’re deteriorating (slow) quite a bit so I wasn’t going faster but the other runners were slowing (so it seemed anyway). The effect was that I felt like I was flying. I wasn’t passing people in front of me at the same points as before along the out and back course. When I didn’t see Beloki at our usual meeting point on the course I knew I was running strong (in hindsight, Beloki had hit the wall and slowed on the last lap). Suddenly in my head I thought, imagine if I catch Beloki…AND go sub-10!? Push push push!

When I came down onto the regatta lake for my final circuit, the realisation hit me that I wasn’t going to go sub-10, or catch Beloki for that matter. It was a great fantasy while it lasted but it didn’t bother me that the dream was over. It wasn’t my goal so I just kept running, admittedly a little slower than before. Then the mind games started again. On each lap, we were given a coloured elastic band so marshals could see how many laps each competitor had completed. I had three bands on my arm but stupidly I thought, maybe I need four bands? (The confusion came from running around the lake 4 times, but only doing 3 laps in total. Two lake laps on the first loop and then two lake laps as part of the final two loops.) My brain was convinced that there was no way I was about to do a 10 hour IM so in my head I kept thinking, when I get to the end, they’re going to send me on another loop. I still believed this even though I could see that Barbs, my mom and Sahara had moved from their normal spectator point, to the finish (I assumed they’d gone to the finish).

I turned at the top of the lake and passed the 25mile marker. 1 more mile to go. But maybe not is what when around in my head. I was so confused, that I didn’t even take notice of the Hooters girls at the final feed station (yes, Hooters Bar in Nottingham sponsored a watering table!). Ok, I lie, I did have a good look but I didn’t stop for a chat. I had been walking through some of the watering points to take on water and coke, but with possibly only a few minutes to go, I didn’t even take on supplies. I read somewhere that it takes the body nearly 8 minutes to process liquid energy so it was pointless to take it on. Hopefully I’d be at the finish line bye then!

Coming into the home straight, I spotted the marshal who allowed competitors to siphon off into the finishing chute. I showed her the three bands (I’m still wearing them now. I’m emotionally attached to them) on my arm, made my best puppy-dog face and hoped like hell I would be allowed entry. She gave me a massive smile, stepped to the side and gestured me into the finish chute. All I heard was the crowd erupt with cheers and laughter. They must have seen the relief on my face! Instantly I raised a fist to the air and did my best Tiger Woods fist pump impersonation (that sounds dirty after Tiger’s recent activities!). Yes, I was claiming it big style!


I looked for Barbs and my mom on the sidelines, spotted Barbs and ran straight towards her for what is now the traditional hug and kiss in the finish chute. Pash over, I turn, pumped my fist some more and soaked up the finishing experience. I heard the commentator read out my name, congratulate me and shout – Troy Squires, you are an Outlaw!!!


I stopped the clock in 10:07:37. I’d run the marathon in 03:44:50 (28th run position). Job done.

I felt the emotion build, had a little talk to myself and stumbled into the finishers’ tent.

And even then, my first thought was “I’m sure I can go sub-10 next time…”

(For the record, Beloki raced an absolute blinder. He clocked a 10:02:09. 14th overall and 2th in age-group. Sub-10 for him is merely a matter of racing another quick course. I finished 20th overall and 3rd in age-group. 1st in our age-group finished 2nd overall! And I’m absolutely certain he’s a pro and doesn’t work 45hour weeks like the rest of us.)

You deserve a medal too getting to the end of all of this! Thanks for reading it and going the distance.