Ironman Lanzarote 2012

It’s great to have people turn out to support a race, especially when there’s a big party atmosphere as you cross the finish line. But does it affect performance? Does a good crowd make you faster? Does the lack of a crowd slow you down? Not in my experience: if you stick to your plan then the crowd makes little difference.

But what if things don’t go to plan? 15k into the run, something happened that brought me to a grinding halt and I was resigned to my first ever DNF. However, a small group of supporters started screaming at me to start running again, and so I did.

Will add a few more pics later

 Maybe without them I would have re-started; maybe my desire to finish would have got me going again, who knows. But for sure, at that moment in time, what started me running again was that small handful of anonymous supporters – thank you.

The build up to my 2nd Ironman had gone well but with a month to go, calf niggles came back to haunt me. First my right, but we fixed it. Then my left, which was more troublesome; I did virtually no running in the last two weeks, trying to  focus on the positives.

Indeed, Ironman Lanzarote, is one of the toughest on the circuit; a 3.8km sea swim; a 180km hilly/windy/hot bike followed by a marathon where people melt in the afternoon heat. Staying positive and getting my head in the right place was crucial. No point worrying about what might or might not happen on the run, I just had to get there in as good shape as possible to give myself the best chance possible.

Before you know it, I’m warming up in the dark off the coast of Puerto del Carmen. Being so close to the equator the sun comes up pretty fast and as it gets lighter the start is only minutes away with about 1600 age-groupers crammed into the start pens behind the ~20 pros.

I self-seed at the back of the “65 min” group, I’m relaxed, calm, and the start is smooth. It quickly gets congested as we approach the 1st turn only ~150m off the beach; engulfed in a mass of writhing neoprene, I didn’t notice it. It settles, & on the return leg of lap 1 I sight well and find good feet. Upon exit I see ~33 mins on the clock then dive back in for lap 2; so far so good. Lap 2, a steady affair, out in 1:06 – even pace.

Swim in real close, stand up, feel steady, stomach ok, avoided swallowing sea water. Smoothly through T1, showers to wash off salt water. Opted for a cycling shirt – good idea, lots of burnt shoulders by the end. Grabbed helmet & race number, put them on as I run to my bike – a  trick I learnt from the Pros in Las Vegas. Dunk feet to wash off sand, out in under 5 mins – good stuff. Mounted smoothly but then faffed about getting feet in on the move – must practise this!

Take it easy through PdC & out to the highway – a long day in the saddle ahead, pacing is crucial. Ever watchful of my power output; not letting it get too high on the ups, sustaining it on the flats and downs. Getting overtaken but that’s ok, most people overcook early. Moving  west now, ocean to the left, hills to the right – it’s a beautiful day. Then inland and down to El Golfo; big ring, smallest sprocket, overtaking now – happy with my aerodynamics.

Back inland and now the real work starts, up Fire Mountain. I get engulfed by a peloton; drafting is cheating so I drop out the back only to be engulfed by a second. The road is straight & uphill so I can see them; two groups of 15-20 riders, so big that 2-3 are on the other side of the white line. Later marshals are brandishing  penalty cards but only a few ever get caught. Pelotons aside, I am frequently overtaken by 2s & 3s – cheating wheel suckers the lot of them!

Downhill to La Santa, briefly up to Soo and down to Famara – no toilets at the aid station as advertised and I have yet to master peeing on the fly, so a quick stop by the side of the road. Now the second steady climb, 580m in 23km to the highest point of the day. I’ve done this route before so I know how to work this section - everything is going well. 

 Conditions are relatively benign – not too hot, not too windy. Fueling easily: energy drink from hands-free aero-bottle for the first hour, then gels out of a bottle on 20 & 40 mins past the hour, piece of energy bar on 60 mins, a salt tab on 30. Only picking up water at the aid stations to top up my aero-bottle and drinking to thirst. Again, everything is going well.

But my average speed is starting to worry me; there’s a lot of downhill to come but a 6:15 bike split has long gone. Also, I’m still being overtaken – this isn’t good, these long uphill drags are supposed to be working in my favour. “Stay in the box and get on with your own race Taylor”.

Near the top of Mirador

 Down the switch backs to Haria – top bombing. Time to work again up to Mirador, the last major climb and well into the race so push my power higher, heading north, ocean and more islands to the left –awesome. Over the top, pickup water, sharp right and down hill, dropping 440m in 11.5km, topping out at 70kph. Average speed picking up but not making up lost ground.

Now it’s time to TT it back to the centre of the island before dropping back to transition in PdC. However, something’s not right; both power and heart rate slowly falling. Head inland on a section of road that makes the Paris-Roubaix look like glass – bottles and bike detritus everywhere. It’s only 3.5 km but it’s into the strongest headwind of the day and it destroys me.

Finally hit the downhill to PdC but that last hour has taken it’s toll. In Regensburg I got off the bike feeling as strong as an ox – today I’m spent. Feel hot spots on both feet – great, blisters to deal with on the run! Cruise back into PdC and dismount, just under 6:36 – disappointing, I switch on the auto pilot.

Hand bike to volunteer, easily find bag, steady pace into tent, ask for Vaseline, soles actually ok, score! Socks and shoes on, grab Garmin/cap/salt tabs/spare gels and I’m out in under 5 mins – not a bad auto pilot! Feel very emotional as I see and hear Jacky cheering me on; this is going to be one tough afternoon and to have personal support out there means so much, big lump in my throat stops me saying anything in return.

But hang on a minute, I feel great, considering! My legs are moving smoothly, my feet feel fine, its great to be out on the run. “Ok, so the bike was slow, but you’ve made it back to T2 intact; the swim was good, transitions went fine, so c’mon buddy, make the best of this.”

Take it steady to the first turn around, walking the aid stations for water, fuel, sponges and ice, my average pace is 5 min per k, this is great. Step up the pace a bit, still feeling good for the next 5k.

At ~15k, I see some portaloos and take the opportunity. I’m out in under two minutes but then disaster strikes – as I start to run my right knee buckles underneath me, I just can’t put any weight on it and it hurts like hell. WTF! Where did that come from? 

Pain on the run

I’ve never had any trouble with my right knee, either in training or earlier in the race. I hobble then try to run but almost fall over. That’s it, game over, I can’t even walk back to the start, let alone the 25k needed to actually finish, I have no choice but to DNF.

The run consists of three out and back laps, the first is longer and takes you out of town and along the airport. By 15k you’re back into town where bars and restaurants over look the ocean; this section is packed with supporters. As I hobble and think “Game Over”, a group of English tourist/supporters spot me and scream, cheer & holler: “Come on Stephen, you can do this” etc etc. So I try to run again; pain but at least I stay upright and each stride gets easier. 

Within a few hundred meters I’m back up to pace again.  Incredible, I have no idea what was going on; maybe sitting down briefly caused muscles to tighten incapacitating the knee, but once I got moving again they loosened off? One for the physios to explain. Meanwhile, Taylor’s Top Triathlon Tip: “Unless you absolutely have to, do not stop!”

I’m feeling good again. It’s now mid-afternoon and while the lack of wind was a mercy on the bike, it’s now getting very hot. But the heat isn’t troubling me at all: ice & sponges to cool from the outside, plus cold water to cool the engine are all working a treat. The guts are good: water and fuel is going in and staying in. I’ve survived my crisis so let’s get down to the real business of Ironman – the latter half of the marathon.

I’m feeling good again, at least for another 7k. What happened next was more predictable. At 22k my left calf tightened, seizure slowly spreading up the back of the knee and down to the ankle. My stride length shortened to keep my legs turning over; cadence before 22k, 83 strides per minute average, after 86.

KM splits: Lanza 2012 (blue), Regensburg 2011 (red).

It was now a war of attrition – could I get to the end before my leg seized up completely? Time to get in a very small box: “Just keep moving! Get to the next aid station!” Water, energy drink, slice of orange, coke, sponges, ice. “Just keep moving! Get to the next aid station!” Water, gel, sponges, ice. “Just keep moving! Get to the next aid station!”

My pace was dropping but I was still running and I was still overtaking people. “Just keep moving! Get to the next aid station!” My heart rate was falling because I wasn’t working hard; the engine was fine but the left wheel was just knackered. Frustrating but just gotta get this finished now.

Heart rate: Lanza 2012 (blue), Regensburg 2011 (red).

And in due course that’s what happened, the finish chute appears and I cross the line – I’ve made it! With a 3:53 marathon I crossed the line in 11hrs 45mins. Unbelievable – total relief. Medal around neck, bottle of water, shake hands with the race director and make my way to finish zone.

The verdict – aka the “cudda-wudda-shudda” section. My pre-race thoughts were a 1:10 swim, 6:15 bike, 3:40 run plus 10 min transitions giving a total of 11:15. Satisfied with the swim; I’m a 1:10er in the pool so 1:05-1:10 in a wetsuit race is job done. T1&T2 went to plan.

All things considered, a 3:53 marathon wasn’t too bad. While the right knee issue was dramatic, it was a red herring, only costing a few minutes. The left calf was more insidious; even allowing for deterioration in the last 10-15k, a 3:40 was very doable.

 The bike was a tad disappointing. I’m not sure how a sub-3hr bike at Wimbleball (90k, 1500m climbing) and a 5:36 at IM Regensburg last year becomes a 6:36 in Lanza 2012. Was a 6:15 really that unrealistic? Will have to think about this.

An awesome race. If you want to do an Ironman just to tick it off your bucket list, or you want a fast time, go somewhere else. If you want an Ironman with a spectacular backdrop that will thrash you, come to Lanzarote.

For now, I’m backing off from Ironman, looking forward to a summer of short races in the North West. However, I can’s stay away from “going long” for too long: in January 2013 I have to be ready for Challenge Wanaka!

Trepidation

With just over a week to go before Ironaman Lanzarote my head is not yet in the right place. As you can see from the blue graph, I have diligently followed my training plan: the blue bars closely tracks the black line. The week I had norovirus stands out, but overall I have not missed much.

Total training hours

However the devil is in the detail. If you break it down, you can see that my swimming (dark blue) has been very consistent; I’ve only missed 1-2 planned sessions since October.  Likewise, I'm very happy with my biking. However, the green running graph tells a different story and especially in the last three weeks you can see it has not gone to plan.

Swim hours

I do have plenty of miles in the legs and my speed is fine but this year I never got over my winter calf niggles. And in the last 3 weeks my left calf has flared up. Despite the best efforts of my physios I just haven’t got on top of it, and all I have been able to do recently is the odd test run.

Running hours

Yesterday was the final “Hail Mary” – we zapped my leg quite hard again with acupuncture, ultrasound and massage. It certainly felt a lot looser and way better after. Rather than testing it, the plan is to not run again until race day, giving it as much time to recover as possible.

So who knows; maybe it will heal and I’ll be fine, maybe it will seize up 5k into the run. There’s not much I can do about it now. I’ll carry on with the planned taper, getting in a few more swim and bike sessions. But most importantly I have to just put it behind me and start planning my race strategy with the full expectation of finishing.

The physical training has been done, now it’s all about getting my head in the right place! Focus on the things I can control and don't worry about things I can't. In other words, it's as you were Taylor - calf niggle or not - just get on with it!