The Diary of a 40 year old Ironman Virgin
Crossing the finish line in Austria on 2nd July 2012 at the end of a gruelling Ironman race stands out as one of the defining moments of the last year. YOU – ARE – AN IRONMAN screamed from the announcer’s microphone as I mustered a sprint finish to show off in front of the crowd. Once I stopped moving, my body wasn’t quite sure what to do next – run for a loo? Vomit again? Eat or Drink? I finished in 13.5 hrs and was disappointed. I’d trained for 12.5hrs and was very much on target until the run. Four pulse members went to Austria 2012, Felipe and Julianna Victorio, Andrea Talpo and myself. On crossing the line I couldn’t find any of them, Felipe saw me come in and was waiting to greet me – I got lost in a tunnel, not realizing that I was spaced out, dizzy, dehydrated and a shadow of my former self. Eventually we met and he called a medic because he couldn’t make sense of what I was saying. I think it’s the language barrier myself – his Brazilian English wasn’t up to task of deciphering jibberish.
My Ironman journey started 2 years earlier. Felipe was a spinning teacher at my gym. I’d loved his classes despite being dizzy during most of them in the early months. I saw him one morning coaching someone in the pool and it got me thinking about swimming. Til then, I could swim a length or two, enjoyed a pool on holidays and performing diving bombs with my kids. The gym was getting a bit boring – I focused heavily on weights and was always very proud of my “guns”. Alas, ironman training stripped that away! I signed up for lessons and began a Friday lunchtime session with Felipe. From the first lesson I was hooked. Looking back, I hadn’t a clue what I was doing, God knows what he must have thought as I panicked and splashed my way up an 18 metre pool, totally out of breath, chest heaving and the ego taking a serious bruising. During that first lesson Felipe swam under me, with his back to the pool floor, looking up to see what, if anything, my arms were doing. He finished his laps with tumble turns and the water never seemed to move as he swam. I was immediately inspired and desperately wanted to learn. I confessed during the first lesson that I fancied the idea of doing a triathlon and struck gold. It turns out the Felipe was a triathlon enthusiast and he vowed there and then to get me to my first race. The Friday lunchtime sessions continued, the technique was ugly and progress laboured but laps started increasing, times decreasing – I was on my way. Felipe took the liberty of signing us up for a focus Ireland Sprint Triathlon in Dun Laoghaire that summer.
I didn’t sleep properly for weeks before that race, what the hell are you doing? I’d ask myself – cop on, you’re heading towards 40, you’ve young children, a wife, a business and no time as it is. A month after beginning swimming lessons, I bought my first bike – amateur mistakes all made. I bought a hybrid and fitted it out with a second saddle for my two year old, big mudguards, lights, carrier – everything but a basket and flagpole. I was thrilled, started cycling to work – occasionally and continued with spinning. Race day came and I felt like a total plank at transisition. My eyes were agog with images of TT bikes, beautifully crafted carbon fibre speed machines in matt black with tyres that didn’t have tubes. Oops. The race went really well, I finished in the top 20 in the swim to my total shock; the bike was ok and completed a 5k run in 13 minutes. I was buzzing after the first outing and wanted more – a lot more.
I trained for an Olympic distance race, the Dublin City Triathlon and vowed to borrow a proper bike. A week before the race I took the family to Egypt and got a horrendous ear infection from the pool. I didn’t make it to the race and triathlon was shelved until 2011. That following year I bought a FELT TT bike which I still have and love. The training became more disciplined and then it happened – Ironman announced a race in Galway for that September. A recent pulse member and work colleague – Gordon Lynn – emailed me on the link and suggested I go for it. Myself, Felipe and Julianna signed up and trained a summer away. I was loving it, compared to the level we train at now, it was nothing really, but part of the journey nonetheless.
A couple of months before Galway, I got a call at midnight from Felipe telling me that he’d just registered for Austria 2012 and that I should too. The next day, credit card at the ready I signed up for a race that was 12 months away. Ironman Galway came along and I finished in 6 hrs. Conditions were horrific on the day, reports of over 220 swimmers being pulled from the water reached me during the bike leg. I’d trained in the sea in Killiney over the summer and quite enjoyed the rough water. Racing is fun after all – isn’t it?
Galway took every thing I had to finish; I’ll never forget the pain in my back as I tried to run off the bike, it took about 10k before I loosened up. The run was more like a shuffle as I pushed through a dark cloud of misery to finish. It’s amazing how you immediately forget the pain once it’s over. I’ve told my wife that her experience of pregnancy and labour couldn’t possibly compare – didn’t go down well!
With Galway finished I couldn’t imagine how we could possibly go a full Ironman distance, the idea of the race was utterly terrifying and oddly exciting. Felipe bought me a copy of Don Finks “Ironfit”, the 3 of us planned a year of training with precision and complete commitment to Don Finks’ plan. Step 1 was to get involved in Pulse, a club I joined a year before and still didn’t know much about. In January 2012 I signed up for the Tuesday swim in Balrothery. I grew up in Tallaght and used the pool as a kid. I went online and saw cool images of a beautiful pool with a diving boards and slick looking surroundings. On my first night I couldn’t believe how the photo’s had duped me. I vowed on entry to the water never to return, I was disgusted. It was raining inside due to the leaky roof and some French dude (Seb) was barking instructions at us. I was sent to lane 1 and was horrified to go in with beginners – I’d been training my ass for months. I longed to be racing up and down with lane 4 and 5. The lesson was brilliant, I learned that I knew nothing of endurance and would have to get my act together. I returned the next Tuesday and hardly noticed the condition of the place, because once you’re in the water, that stuff is superfluous.
The 30 week training plan began, my weeks consumed with swimming, cycling and running. In March of 2012 I hardly recognized myself. I felt great. I was loving the training and boasting of how I could train for 10 hours in just one week – little did I know what was ahead. While the commitment to training is one thing, I never managed the same discipline with food and the weight dropped off at .5Kilo per month – every month. Having bought a bike, shoes, wetsuit, garmin watch, socks, goggles, new runners, more new runners and bike accessories, I now had to fork out for new works suits too as nothing fit. I turned 40 in March the focus on Ironman dispelled any worries about the milestone.
April and May brought longer bike sessions, more runs and a second weekly Pulse swim with Colin Bolger, this time in a new pool in Tallaght. Week after week, session after session Colin would tell me to lift my elbow higher, take your time, kick your legs, lift your body. The length of swims increased bringing huge confidence. You start to think, I can do this, we’re covering 3k in the pool, race day is only 3.8k. The balancing of work, marriage and children became more challenging. I was constantly tired and anxious about stealing time from one area to give to another. Outside of Triathlon, other friendships became impossible to nourish. Texts for pints and nights out were a big cause of stress – if I drink tonight, I can’t train as hard tomorrow – there’ll be plenty of time for that later in the year.
To handle the bike sessions in early spring I took myself off to the Sally Gap most Saturday mornings. While the pulse sessions were great, they finished too late for me, losing too much time at home with kids and daddy duties. The Sally Gap was to become a really key part of training, I pushed hard to build the strength in my legs and endurance on the slow upwardly climbs. Every climb was rewarded with a really exciting downhill freewheel, hitting up to 68kilometers per hour with a bit of carbon between me and a nasty fall. As the spring progressed, I teamed up with Felipe and Julianna for Saturday spins. We found a gorgeous route from Killiney to Arklow, along the coast road that we cycled religiously each week. It became normal to find ourselves in Arklow town at 9am on Sunday mornings. Still the distance of Ironman bothered me. When Easter came, mid April I dispelled the fear by doing an 8hr cycle to Killaloe, Co Tipperary. We were invited for the weekend by family – this was a great excuse, I arranged to cycle there, meet the family and then drive home on Easter Monday. On race day I kept thinking, this is nothing – 6 hours on a bike – sure I can do 8!
From April to early June, Don Fink’s plan brought us to a 20 hr week training schedule. The hard work really is done in training – the psychological confidence came with the increased training hours. I’d often arrive home after a 2hr run, feeling fresh, a 4 hour cycle seemed like a waste of time and I wouldn’t bother swimming unless it was a hardcore session. I was confident of a finish on race day.
On 27th June, my poor abandoned wife, Anna turned 40. While that was great for her, it meant I couldn’t fly to Austria with “the lads” until at least 29th without being the worst hubby ever. On Friday 29th I left – relieved that training was over and a bit of a holiday ahead.
On the flight I was reading Lance Armstrong’s second book (still think he’s innocent) and beside me was a bloke reading Stephen Roche’s story. I took a guess and – yes was sitting beside a fellow competitor on the way to Austria. Turns out there were a few lads from Limerick Tri Club – a great bunch who were really supportive on race day. On arrival in Austria I suddenly felt really nervous – I walked down the steps of the plane and was shocked at the heat. It was early morning and 38 Degrees. My jeans were stuck to me, T-Shirt soaked and I panicked – we’d trained all year in Ireland – how the **** am I going to run a marathon in this heat? So distracted by the heat, I picked up the hire car, asked for directions to Klagenfurt and didn’t listen to the answer. Before I knew it – I was on a four lane motorway, no GPS, no signs in English and nothing that resembled Klagenfurt. That was one of the darkest parts of my Ironman journey – my stomach lurching, lost, panicking, alone, feeling guilty about the selfishness of leaving the family behind – confidence totally obliterated. 3 hours later I arrived in Klagenfurt, guided in by phone by Felipe. The relief of seeing a friend in a faraway place is so good. He had been there for 4 days at this stage, was relaxed, tanned and loving the weather. I was freaking out – temperatures were now over 40 Degrees. My pale, freckly Irish skin was not happy. Himself and Julianna had taken time to swim part of the course in the lake, over a 2 day period, they’d tackled the bike section – they were settled in, organised and calm. My bike was in my box and I was scared. Felipe and I tackled the bike and put it back together. It was Friday evening, plenty of time to calm down – race day was 2 days away. Saturday was spent visiting the Ironman Village – it’s a sight to see – retail heaven. You could literally arrive in Klagenfurt with a credit card and completely kit yourself out for the race – beware – it’s impossible not to have a little splurge. After all we deserved it – 30 weeks of training! Julianna took on the role of cook – being a well read and brilliant personal trainer and nutrition expert she fed us massive meals of eggs, tuna, pasta, nuts, rice, noodles –protein and carbtastic! We ate our way around the IM Village and attended the race briefing. 2,000 athletes were in the village and I somehow managed to meet people from Dublin that I knew from gyms, work and local coffee shops. If triathlete’s have a reputation for being friendly, then “Ironmen” are the ultimate. The excitement was palpable, nervous energy spread around the hardest of athletes. We met Andrea Talpo from Pulse – delighted to have another buddy to share the experience with and attended the race briefing.
They talked us through the usual race briefing and then announced that it was too hot for wetsuits. I saw grown men cry, women weep and an explosion of shocked chatter raced around the IM tent. Actually, I was quite relieved – I still get stuck taking my wetsuit on and off – one less thing to think about on race day, one less thing to carry – what’s the problem? The logistics around Klagenfurt are a bit congested, car parking is really difficult and scarce and it’s busy – we lost a lot of time trying to negotiate the area.
The experience of doing Galway was invaluable here – the whole IM set up was very familiar. Instinctively we set up our bikes, got rid of the bags for the bike and run leg. Packed sun cream, food and a watch with no mistakes. We we’re advised to let out 50% of the air from our tyres to prevent them exploding in the heat – panic set in again – this is so hot that my tyres could explode – god help me.
Julianna served up another Ironman meal back at our apartment, lights out at 9pm and it was off to get some sleep. Suddenly my phone lit up, messages of support came flooding in from family and friends and of course fellow Pulse members. Karl, Alma and Liam were one week away from their IM race in Frankfurt so were all ears to see how we were getting on. I love Pulse. The members are great and the support for Ironman was really humbling. My closer friends like Alex O’Brien and Ian O’Shea were anxiously watching – planning their own IM journey for 2013. Sleep was impossible; we’d planned a 4.30am rise so I was relieved when the alarm finally went off.
Race day for IM is no different to any other, you eat and drink a tried and tested pre-race breakfast, hoping that it leads to a satisfactory bowel movement – one less thing to worry about, last minute bag check and off you go. No matter now early you arrive at a race, it always feels like you’re the last to get there – we struggled to get parking, panicking again, I was driving erratically, illegal turns, wrong speeds, the lot – but we got there. There are overflow car parks for IM in Klagenfurt, but it’s quite a hike back to the start line – so that bit was uncomfortably tense.
No sooner had we re-inflated tyres, checked equipment, set up water bottles that the nerves kicked in and another “serious” loo trip was required. However 2000 other racers were apparently in the same boat, queues of frightened looking competitors were grasping toilet roll, desperate to get into portaloos that were starting to cook in the morning sun. I couldn’t help but worry about nutrition, as that was an unplanned loo trip, do I eat again?
Finally we arrived on the beach for the beginning of the end. Don Fink advised that race day is “your day”. The day to enjoy the fruit of your labour and show off to the world that you can endure more than the average person. I was slippy with sun cream, desperate for the loo again, excited, overwhelmed and slightly emotional – this is it.
Felipe, Julianna, Andrea and myself wished each other well – shared a pulse moment and off we went. The starter’s gun sent 2000 of us into the water amidst throngs of spectators and lady gaga blasting out her latest hit in the background. There seemed to be Irish supporters everywhere, you could hear Cork, Tipp, Kilkenny, Waterford and Dublin accents around the place. We later learned that apart from the Austrian’s, Irish competitors were among the largest groups. Go Ireland.
The lake in Klagenfurt is gorgeous. It was a beautiful start to a big day, the sun danced off the water at 7.00am in a lake surrounded by a fairytale village with rolling hills, boats in the harbour and there was a strong sense of being part of a really special event. The water start was a lot calmer than races I’d done previously. Only once did I tap into my “inner Tallaght” during the swim to elbow someone back. The temperature was perfect, warm but not uncomfortable, like a good swimming pool. The confidence crept back as I thought; wow I can swim in Austria, not just Ireland. Colin Bolger was a constant voice in my ear as I got into my stride – “Ger, lift your elbow”, he’d advise, “don’t forget to kick”, “concentrate on your breathing”, “your elbow has dropped again”, “relax”. I wished he could see me now; I was calm, confident, and happy even as I claimed my place among the Ironman swimmers. However, I very quickly got caught up in a crowd. I couldn’t escape them – I got biblically close to other swimmers and I was partly lifted out of the water. Like a school of fish, we all swam in the same direction, unfortunately the wrong direction. I tried to think it through and decided to stop swimming. These guys were swimming far off to the left, but the buoys were more on the right. Once I stopped I got battered by other angry swimmers that swam over me. My goggles got knocked and water quickly entered them. I tried to fix the goggles and began sinking. This was a lake, I’d no wetsuit – panic again as even the swimmers going too far off in the wrong direction were putting distance between me and buoys. Once I re-grouped I headed off again, glad to be out of the crowd. For the life of me, I couldn’t spot the buoys. Compared to the PULSE buoys that could challenge a hot air balloon, the buoys in Klagenfurt are like small traffic cones. I made a mistake here. On the day before the race, I was very focused on the bike, the bike course and preparing the nurtrician. I assumed that I could just follow the pack in the swim and that would be enough, it’s not. Once around the first buoy I struggled again to spot the second one and on it went to third and fourth. Once I relaxed again, I began to realize that none of the marshals’ sitting in their canoes would steer me wrong. I picked up a couple of other swimmers of similar pace and got stuck back in. I was pleasantly surprised to start moving up the field. The confidence came back as I saw other swimmers tire and start to fade; I was in my stride and heading for home. The swim in an ironman is long; I was aiming for 1.5hrs and felt I was on target. The swim section eventually narrowed from the lake as we entered the famous canal. The canal was described to me as a gorgeous fast, run, lined with supporters that take you to the exit point. In reality, it was very narrow, quite brown and shallow with lots of reeds. I pushed hard at the beginning in the belief that this was the end, but the canal section is longer than you’d expect and seemed to go on for ages. Eventually I hit the exit, the music had become louder and it was a great feeling to be out of the lake. This time One Direction’s latest offering welcomed me home. I was wearing my PULSE trisuit and caused quite a stir when I left the water. To my complete surprise there was a huge Irish contingent there – they went wild with the opportunity to cheer for one of their own – “Gowan Pulse”, “Fair play to ya”. I was thrilled. Chest out, grinning from ear to ear, I ran to transisition delighted with life. I knew at this point that I was going to complete the race. The swim is over, now for a bit of cycling.
Transisition was quite straight forward with no wetsuit to wrestle out of. I found my watch in my cycle bag and slipped it on. I was horrified by the time. I read 9.50am. There was no way that it felt like I hour 50 mins in the water – what the hell was I doing? Now I was on the back foot and annoyed with myself. The heat wasn’t too bad at this stage, but it was bright and sunny. I plastered myself with sun cream, ate my first of many bananas that day and got to the bike. My bike was only one of three in my section that was still there. I had a horrible sinking feeling.
I took off and was consumed by worry about the bike. Felipe and I had rebuilt it following the journey over from Dublin. It had been really stripped down to fit in the box. I worried that a wheel might fall off, the brakes wouldn’t work, and gears wouldn’t change. Then at some basic level I realized that I could also ride my bike in Austria, not just Ireland – cool. Felipe had repeatedly told me that the bike was my strongest discipline, so I got the head down and started racing.
The bike section was fantastic. The scenery was breathtaking. I thought of my daughters Sylvanian family toys with the romantic, perfect surroundings. This was easier than any training session I’d done in Ireland. The road quality was superb, even, flat surfaces and the euphoria of a race. I was distracted by other bikes. Julianna had joked two days earlier that our bikes looked like they came out of the LIDL compared to others. I’d laughed it off, but she was right. My pride and joy looked clunky and old fashioned compared to these carbon beauties. You could spot the €10K bikes everywhere. Some of the shoes, helmets and sunglasses looked more expensive than my bike. I was wearing a pair of six year old ski glasses, three year old shoes; I was pale, soaked in sun cream and felt very Irish.
Previous reports had said that the bike section in Austria is flat. This got lost in translation. In fact, the road surface is excellent but it’s not flat. There are at least 2 quite difficult climbs. Organisers were clearly worried about the heat on race day. There were plenty of stops on the bike, every few kilometres an army of volunteers were offering bananas, coke, powerbars and drinks. You could have entered the race with no food or drink and had no worries. The bike section was alive with competitors, it was really exciting. I relaxed and started to enjoy my day, pre race nerves gone and getting into my stride. After an hour or so, I’d caught up with Julianna – delighted to have found a friend I started chatting to her. She gave out to me – we could get done for drafting – “this is not like training” she warned. Scolded, off I went and started picking off other racers. Once the intimidation of the €10k bikes wore off, I started to realize that the cost of the bike is not really an indicator of the racers ability. Some of these guys and girls we’re not as fast as me. Maybe they were saving themselves for the run, but it was a great feeling to start picking off other racers. A battle quickly ensued with a group of English guys as we lost and regained our positions on each other time and time again – sure it was something to pass the time. A couple of hours into the race and the temperature soared – eventually hitting 42 Degrees. It became a real cause for concern. I worried about getting sunburnt on the bike and then suffering during the run. The locals in Klagenfurt were amazing. As we passed by people’s front gates they were out with garden hoses and soaked us as we passed. You could decline their offer and go wide, but almost every time I accepted. The heat go so bad, that I remember being entirely soaked by a garden hose and instantly drying off as I cycled away. On reflection I lost time on the bike by cycling slow during the hose showers but it was better than the effects of the extreme heat. The spectators were particularly good on the uphill sections. DJ’s with dancing crowds encouraged us to the top of the steeper hills and announced that another Ironman or Ironlady was passing. I had a lot of time to think on the bike, you can’t chat to your training buddy so I got lost in my own bubble quite a lot of times. I was still confident of finishing while anxious about the sun. The uphills were quite extreme – I was in my lowest gear, leaning over the front of the bike to encourage it upwards. My legs screamed out for relief as the bike wobbled and the sun scorched. I thought back to the Saturday mornings I’d spent alone cycling the “Sally Gap”. I thought of the Wicklow hills and Dublin Mountains and thanked them for the training. I started looking at Austria differently and thought, that’s not a hill – compared to “The Gap”.
Eventually the bike course opened to a beautifully flat area with some fast downhills and more stunning scenery to drink in. A few nervous cyclists clung to their brakes on the downhills, so it was a great opportunity to scare them half to death by cycling really fast without using mine. Ah, the pleasure of my LIDL bike overtaking the €10k beauties! It took me exactly 3 hours to complete the first lap. I was really pleased having set myself a target for 6 hours on the bike. The announcer at the end of Lap 1, back near the Ironman Village informed everyone that these cyclists were now half way to becoming “Ironmen”
The second half of the bike was harder than the first – it got uncomfortably hot. Sweat constantly blocked my sun glasses; I was soaked through from water, snot, sweat and the drinks that I was spilling. More locals came out with buckets of water and garden hoses – I thanked them profusively as only an Irish catholic can for their generosity. Each soaking became an event in itself and a distraction. I found myself drifting a lot and taking my mind off the race.
The heat made my nutrition strategy fail. I’d prepared my bars in the order that I had planned to consume them. The plan was to eat one per hour, washed down with a full water bottle per hour and as many bananas as I could grab from the food stands. The second bar didn’t go down well, the third even worse and by hour 4 my nutrition strategy was done for. Protein and energy bars are disgusting at best, but in 40 Degree heat when they become guey, expanded in your mouth and refused to go down, they became unbearable. I forced the fourth one down and then threw it back up again – still while cycling. I abandoned my plan and stuck with the odd banana. Never in training had I once drank cola, but now they were handing it out at the ever more frequent stops. I drank it down like an alcoholic on a binge session. I would later pay for this foolishness on the run. My head told me to stop, but my body didn’t listen. Ah sweet cola, hot weather – a deadly combination. By hour five I was feeling quite dizzy on the bike but still in good spirits. I was worried about the run, worried about nutrition. I tried again to eat a bar, but the smallest piece was expelled violently from my stomach. I thought of the marathon – I’d read and trained well enough to know that you fuel yourself well on the bike to prepare for the run. Nobody mentioned a strategy for what to do in this heat. The sun intensified and became scarily hot. The last time I was in 40 Degree heat was on a beach in Australia, hiding under an umbrella, struggling to breathe. I was cycling as hard as I could despite conditions. I thought of home, my wife, my kids, my family and friends. I wondered where Felipe, Julianna and Andrea were – I wondered how their race was going and looked forward to seeing them on the run. 6 hours and 16 minutes later I cycled into transition and was feeling good, relieved to be off the bike and gave myself a 10 minute window to turn around. I congratulated the cyclists I’d battled during the race and we gave each other encouraging pats on the back. I thanked my bike for looking after me and for being as reliable as ever. I noticed how amazingly clean it looked – it had been washed over and over during the soakings of the preceding 6 hours.
The transisition space was all very leisurely. In stark contract to Olympic and half IM races it struck me that no body was in any real rush. The loos were busy, once through I collected my run bag and was helped by a steward to pack away the bike bag. I got busy with the sun cream again and was grateful to have suffered only a few red patches during the half day’s roasting. I tucked the sun cream into the pocket of my trisuit to use again on the run. I ate a banana, and left transisition. On exiting the transisition I saw the first bunch of supporters cheering us on – to my surprise Andrea Talpo was there – not wearing his race gear. He told me that he’d pulled out after 50 kilometres on the bike, he was sick and dizzy and the heat had got the better of him. I felt real disappointment for Andrea and then doubted if I’d get through the run. Another few hundred meters later I saw Chris Delooze and the Limerick Triclub supporters. They were in brilliant form – enjoying the sun and having a few beers. Chris was a brilliant supporter – he screamed my name and shouted lots of encouragement. Chris had coached Pulse members on Killiney beach a few weeks earlier. I spent time talking to him and got a few great swim tips to complement Colin Bolgers. The first water stop was at 1Kilometre. By the time I got there, I was in real trouble. I was completely dehydrated and felt listless. The sun had intensified and there was no escaping it. I was wearing a running cap and fading fast. A volunteer took my cap off and soaked it in a bucket of cold water. He then took two sponges and told me to stick them in the neck / chest area of my tri suit. The water was a great relief and off I stumbled for the second kilometre.
The run for me was torture. I’d trained hard and had peaked in training at a 21 Mile run in 3 hours only 3 weeks previous, but it was on a balmy sunny summer Sunday morning in Dublin of about 11 Degrees. The organisers were very aware of the heat and had set up water stations every kilometre. I stopped at most of them to dip my hat and sponges in water. The run takes a rough figure of 8 shape. It’s totally flat with no technical corners. Like the swim and the bike, the course was easier than anything I’d done in training. Right from the beginning, other competitors were walking. I wished they’d run because it somehow made it acceptable to walk and I was resisting the temptation for as long as I could. The first 10 Kilometres passed at a respectable pace for me. The training kicked in, my body switched to autopilot and my mind wandered. The scenery was nice too, a few wooden bridges, a beach pass and a couple of long straights. Each lap was just over 20k, so we had to run it twice. The Irish girls out supporting were well oiled at this stage; an afternoon drinking in the sun had raised their voices and message of support. My name had changed to PULSE as the Irish called it out at every opportunity. I had to pass them 4 times because of the course layout, each time they looked worse and I was crumbling from the inside out. I was aware that I was the only competitor sporting the PULSE colours and brand and didn’t want to let it down. If I walk, they’ll see me, so keep pushing on, I told myself. Once past the 10k mark I focused on the next 5. The sun seemed to get hotter and again locals came out and soaked us with garden hoses as we past their fences and back gates. The local kids thought this was great craic and really enjoyed hosing us down without getting into trouble. They delighted in any attention they got from runners, a smile and a thank you was really appreciated. At the 18k water stop the unthinkable happened for me. Without any warning I simply stopped running. I stood motionless for a moment. My stomach churned, throat contracted, mouth opened and I vomited uncontrollably. I fell to a grassy area, leant sideways and sent everything I’d eaten on the bike flying from my mouth along with a litre or so of Cola. It seemed to last for five minutes and I was in real trouble. A couple of medics came over to check on me. They had very little English; I was dizzy and struggling to gather my thoughts. Through hand signals they indicated that I needed to be moved and put onto a drip and urged me to leave with them. In a moment of clarity I’d remembered being told that if you are taken off the course by a medic, then its race over. I faked my own recovery to put them off and got back to my feet. I remember a really annoying English, middle-aged woman who was allegedly volunteering. She kept giving out to me for being sick and was clearly as mad as a box of frogs. She totally confused me and I just wanted to get away from her, she was in my face telling me how stupid we all were for doing and Ironman. Water in hand; I stumbled off to escape her and the medics, both anxious to end my race.
I walked for about 6 kilometres. I prayed, I swore to God that I’d be a better Husband, Dad, Brother and Friend if he’d get me through the next 26 kilometres. I committed to never again doing an Ironman, to take better care of myself, to eat more – to stop ignoring my high cholesterol, to even go to mass. I stopped at a few water stations and sipped water. I tried to eat, but nothing would go down. Eventually I managed some water melon, which was delicious and a welcome change from bananas. Ultimately I got bored walking and got back to a shuffle. It hurt like hell, as the blood flowed back into my calf muscles they screamed in agony, and were now a little sunburnt. I stopped again and put some sun cream on. This stop start shuffle continued for most of the next 26 kilometres. The sun began to lose it’s heat and night time approached. I immediately felt better and found a new, stronger pace. The finish was only 10 kilometres away. I passed Chris Delooze and the Limerick supporters again – they were having a great party. I faked a strong run and he applauded how well I was doing. The music got louder in the town centre. The cruel thing about the second lap is that you have to pass the exit run that goes to the finish line. The crowd there was buzzing and the two goofy announcers congratulated every other finisher over a tannoy system with the words – “YOU ARE AN IRONMAN” or “YOU ARE AN IRONLADY”. I felt better and had started to recover. Julianna and I passed each other three or four times on the run. She scolded me for walking so I had to watch out for her and fake a run when she came into sight. The last 10k was never ending. Most people were walking and I was desperately trying to keep running. I’d set out to complete IM in 12.5hours, but was secretly hoping for a 12hr finish. I was on track by the time I’d finished the bike, but my target was slipping further and further away. 7pm came and went, my 12hr marker gone. I focused on 15 minute slots to get close to the finish line. 7.15pm, 7.30pm, 7.45pm, 8.00pm all came and still no finish line. I met an IM veteran from Waterford during the run. He told me that this was his 10th year racing Austria and by far this was the hottest weather they’d ever experienced. We chatted and ran and really picked up the pace. 8.15pm – we could hear the loudspeakers of the finish line. Spectators were drunk now; they too had a long day shouting for their friends and loved ones.
Somewhere deep inside I found a finishing pace and left my new buddy behind as I pushed hard for the finish line. 8.30pm came and I entered the finishing straight, I ran as hard as I could and enjoyed the spectacle and party that was the finishing tunnel. Exhausted and disorientated I looked for Felipe and Andrea and couldn’t find them. I decided to wait for Julianna and got quite emotional as other participants finished their Iron journey. When Julianna finished we found Felipe, ate and showered. While happy to finish, I was disappointed with my time. I’d nothing left, stomach empty I struggled to communicate with the others. They shared their day’s trials and tribulations and I couldn’t take it in. Felipe told me later that I was rambling and he couldn’t understand me. He called a medic but they were too busy. They took to standing behind finishers queuing for food. Several Ironmen and Ironladies collapsed in the IM tent while queuing for food, the days events proving too much for them. Luckily I didn’t blackout. Once back to my phone I made a few calls. PULSE friends and family had been watching online and were tracking our progress. They knew my time before I did; they tracked me during the swim, bike and run. They knew something was up on the run as the time between every 10k marker got longer and longer. In all it took 5.5hrs to finish the marathon.
I called home and said never again – I’m done, I’m happy but done. We struggled with the horrible task of collecting the bikes and bags from transition. It was now approaching midnight. We packed the car and drove to our accommodation. Sleep came quickly with no appetite for beer or celebrating.
The next day we went back to the Ironman village and booked our places for 2013. I was looking forward to having a 1 day holiday. The clouds rolled in, it was 25 Degrees and raining – the irony of it. They say completing and Ironman changes you. It did for me; I took my body to new limits. I enjoyed the physical transformation and the mental strength of knowing I was one of the world’s small club members that had completed an Ironman. I was 40 and content – something else ticked off my bucket list. As for going to mass and becoming a better person, that’s on hold for now while the training for IM 2013 is well under way.
