"Execution, Line, Box, Paste". This was my mantra in the build-up to my first Ironman, and I repeated it to myself as I stood at the edge of the water waiting for the “beach” start. This mantra was derived from an article written by two US coaches describing their Four Key principles to Ironman success.
“Execution”, pretty obvious but needs careful consideration. I couldn't have done much more training, racking up ~500 hours since September 2010 when I started preparing for this race. My training had also been very consistent and well structured thanks to a great program from Matt Shillabeer at the Endurance Coach. I had also planned ad nauseum. But all the training and planning would count for nowt if I didn't execute the plan on the day. Was I up to the task of executing the plan, or would my lack of experience dominate? In the end, I managed to follow the bike-part of my plan to the letter: heart rate never went above my limit & I never missed a scheduled feed. By the end of lap 1 my average speed was bang on target and I felt great so I just had to repeat another loop and 5:40 was in the bag. I arrived in T2 with a 5:35:50 split. The run also went largely to plan, although I had to adapt my hydration slightly, but more on this below. The swim was the biggest unknown due to the sheer numbers of people and my first experience of a “beach” start, but the plan was simple, just keep a steady pace throughout, and again more on this below.
The "line" they refer to is that inevitable point when the wheels fall off, most likely in the latter stages of the marathon. While anticipating this sounds somewhat pessimistic, if you know it's coming then you're better placed to deal with it. Halfway around the 3rd of 4 run laps, with ~15k still to go, my hamstrings said "WTF?" Had I reached my “line”? Were my hamstrings going to cramp up and put an end to my run? While "Shut Up Legs!" might work for Jens Voigt, the hard man of pro cycling, I tried to be a bit more sympathetic. Because last year’s race was a scorcher, I had fitted a Saltstick to my bike and put salt tabs in my T2 bag in anticipation of hot weather this year. However, the plan only called for them if it was very hot, and on the day the weather was awful, with heavy rain showers during set up and throughout the bike. So as per the plan, I didn’t take any salt tabs on bike or run. In retrospect this was a mistake: it was still warm and windy on the bike so I probably sweated more than I realized, plus I had 2 pee stops on the bike and 1 halfway through the run.
When my hamstrings twinged, I reasoned that I just needed some electrolytes, so I started walking the aid stations in order to take on board a good amount of electro-drink, instead of just waving a cup of water somewhere near my mouth. Up until now things had been going great: I had survived the “big-biff-swim” (see below); I’d got off the bike with no punctures or mechanicals, and, despite the rain, hills and wind, I achieved my desired split. As importantly, because I had stuck to my nutrition plan, I was fueled up to the eyeballs. Also, I had no feeling of fatigue and the transition to running was relatively easy. Indeed, for the first two laps of the run I was grinning from ear to ear as I ran through old town R’burg past the cheering crowds.
I’d set my heart on a 3:30 marathon which required a pace of 4:58 per k. Sticking to this pace was ok and about halfway my GPS watch said I had a buffer of about 1 min 30. However, the decision to walk the aid stations on laps 3&4 eroded this so that with ~5k to go the buffer was down to 8 seconds. But now the electro-drink had done the business and my hamstrings had shut up, so I upped the pace, putting on a bit of a charge for the last two k. Just before rounding the corner into the finish chute, I noticed the buffer had gone back up to 40 secs, so I was later confused why I missed my run target, if only by a couple of mins, with my official run split being 3:32:37. My GPS clocked the course as 740m long, not much extra but at Ironman marathon pace that’s a good few minutes, so I’m claiming a moral victory on this one. So in the end, the “line” did rear its ugly head but I stared it straight in the eye and kicked its ass.
The “box” is all about staying in the moment. Standing on the edge of a lake thinking about the enormity of what’s ahead is pretty scary – so don’t. A common piece of advice is to break big challenges down into more manageable chunks, or in this case boxes, and stay in your box, focusing on what you need to do here-and-now to achieve the end goal. In previous half-iron races my mind has drifted off during the swim. No chance here. The beach start wasn’t as bad as I thought and I soon found clear-ish water. But then as everybody converged on the first marker buoy it got very busy and, long story short, it never eased up again until maybe 400m to go. (For movies showing the swim start click here: no. 1 and no. 2.) I took a real crack in the face after ~1.5k and got swum over quite a lot, and I felt it wasn’t going very well at all, but as I don’t wear a watch for the swim I had no idea where I was time-wise. Next thing I’m out, running smoothly through T1 and Jacky shouts “1:05”. I was aiming for sub-1:10, so a big early boost. Official split 1:05:41.
Delighted of course, and while my swimming has improved a lot this year, I’m not quite sure how this happened. I guess with ~2000 people starting the race, the swim for a “middle-of-the-packer” like me is always going to be very crowded, so I was always right next to someone or on someone’s feet, i.e. I was drafting by default, which is good. But at the same time, it was virtually impossible to get into any kind of rhythm in terms of stroke and breathing, which is bad. I guess in the end these two cancelled each other out. So, there was no chance of leaving my box on the swim – I was too busy trying to survive every moment. On the bike my mind wandered every now and again until a voice said “Back in your box, Taylor!” and then I was back in the moment: “heart rate, check; pace, check; average pace, check; nutrition, on schedule – ok, keep going then”. On the run, the box was initially very big, ~10k, settle in for the first lap, then see how you feel. By the last lap, my boxes were reduced to 1km each: it’s amazing how 10 quickly becomes 7 becomes 5 becomes 3 and you’re almost home and dry.
“Paste” comes from “don’t eat the paste”, an American expression I guess which basically means don’t get egged on by other kids in the classroom. In the context of Ironman this advice is particularly relevant to the bike leg; if people overtake you then fine, let them, whatever happens don’t get egged on and go with them, stick to your own race. As mentioned above, I had a plan and I was merrily clipping along out of T1. But to my horror, hoardes of people were flying past me. This was most unusual – I never get overtaken on the bike. I’m not saying I’m a great biker, just that I’m relatively much better on the bike compared to the swim. Normally I come out of the water pretty low down the field then spend the entire bike leg overtaking people. For example, earlier this summer at UK 70.3 in Wimbleball, I came out the water in 347th (~31%), then followed this with the 59th fastest bike split on the day (~5%). Getting overtaken on the bike – repeatedly – was just wrong!
Ok, so maybe this time I was higher up the field because my swim was relatively good, but I didn’t know that at the time; i.e. there was paste to be eaten – who the hell were all these people overtaking me! Had I totally misjudged my target pace? Maybe on closed German roads you really can go so much faster? But no, I didn’t eat it, I stuck to my plan and kept it nice ‘n easy. According to the stats, I only lost about 30 places, coming out the water in 569th, then off the bike in 601st. But way, way, way more than 30 people overtook me during the first 30-40k or so. Looking back I probably regained a lot of those places later in the race: on the second lap I was picking off quite a lot of people but because they were now in 1s and 2s it was much less noticeable at the time.
What stopped me from eating the paste during the early phase of the bike was the desire to get that 3:30 marathon. I just hoped that if I paced the bike my way and then put in a good run I’d regain many of these places later in the day. And I did, having come off the bike in 601st, I finished the race in 336th, i.e. I made up 265 places on the run, clocking the 214th fastest run split of the day. One very useful comment I came across on TriTalk was that you don’t how good or bad your IM bike split is until you’ve done the marathon: if you achieve your run target then you had a good bike split. The fact that I pretty much hit 3:30 means that avoiding the paste was the right strategy and I got my pacing on the bike pretty much spot on.
So in the end, I was absolutely delighted with my first Ironman. My goal was 10:30, aiming for splits of 1:10, 5:40, 3:30 plus 10 mins for the two transitions – T1 & T2 are both quite long in R’burg. Thanks to Jacky, I knew I had aced the swim, my GPS told me I’d beaten my bike target and that I had stuck pretty closely to 4:58 per km on the run. My transitions had gone very smoothly but I had no idea of my total time. As I crossed the dam over the Danube for the last time, I switched my watch to actual time and saw that it was ten past five in the afternoon. The swim should have started on time at 7am, so for a 10:30 I needed to be done by 5:30 pm.
At this point I probably had 2-3k to go, so at say 5 min per k that’s another 10-15 mins, so 5:10 plus 10-15 is bla bla bla … … … it’s quite bizarre trying to do simple maths deep into an Ironman, but I now knew that sub-10:30 was on the cards. The scare over my hamstrings had passed, I was feeling great again, and as the end got closer and closer, I got faster and faster, sprinting past people … … okay, now I am getting carried away but that’s what it felt like at the time, and as I rounded the corner into the finishing chute I knew I was going to be an Ironman and that I had beat my goal by finishing with a great run. I didn’t eat the paste, I stayed in my box, I survived the line and I executed my plan, almost to the letter. I can’t wait to do it all over again, which is a relief as I’m already signed up for Lanzarote 2012.
On the day, despite the rain, weather conditions in Regensburg 2011 were fairly benign. No doubt the heat, winds and hills of Lanza will make it a lot tougher, but for sure I won’t forget to take my salt tabs with me! Maybe then we’ll find out whether my performance this Sunday was the result of beginners luck or a well executed plan. A mix of both I suspect.
Big thanks to Jacky, best support crew in town; Matt from The Endurance Coach; and to Andy and Christian from Didsbury Physio & Sports Injury Clinic. I have done a lot more training on my own this year but ManTri has still played a crucial role with training, advice and inspiration – thanks guys.
2060 starters, 1810 finishers, 250 DNFs
3.8k swim: 01:05:41 523rd 101st in age group M40-44
180k bike: 05:35:49 662nd 137th
42.2k run: 03:32:37 214th 35th
Final time: 10:21:26 336th 60th
(Note: I’m still analyzing the data so numbers subject to change)
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