So how was the plan going so far?
Actually, in April, not so good. An issue with C5 vertabrae meant that for much of the month I could not run, or swim, and shouldn't really be riding. Slowly, with the aid of a cortisone injection, and a more sympathetic TT bike set up, thanks to the skills of Matt Dec, things improved. Luckily, the Busselton Half Ironman was a week later than previous years, so I had three weeks to get ready.
MAY 11, 2013 - BUSSELTON HALF IRONMAN
Can't remember the result, other than that the time was modest, and slower than my target time.
There were, however, a few things I do remember:
Mikey McConnell's exceptional race; ever improving Blake Kappler's impressive bike split; world-class Brad Kahlefeldt moving up to 70.3; Matt Illingworth blitzing the pro field on his way to a remarkable bike time of 2'03"; and another classy performance from ex North Coaster Liz Blatchford, as part of her transition to Iron distance.
I also remember the horror of an impromptu toilet stop towards the end of the run. This call of nature turned out to be quite alarming. In fact, it was very alarming - until I eventually recalled the copious amounts of recently consumed beetroot juice!
The run was hard and slow, but considering the lack of running over the past couple of months, not too bad, and it was a nice relief to feel injury free, at last. Yes!
Though slower on the bike than last year I managed to get the fastest split in my age group, which was a nice bonus and quite an achievement considering the likes of the Howleys and Gillys, et al in this category.
After looking up the results, my official time was: Swim 46"; Bike 2'21"; Run 1'48". Total 5:01:59.
Regarding target time: Fail - by 2 minutes, but, taking into consideration the build up, quite satisfied, and delighted to be injury free.
JUNE 23, 2013, NICE - IRONMAN FRANCE
A one-lap bike course into the Maritime Alps. Proper mountains, which plunge from over a couple of thousand metres into the Mediterranean Sea. Never ending climbs, picturesque villages, sensational scenery, spectacular gorges, and smooth, fast, eye-watering descents. In the opinion of many past participants, a true classic. Yes, I was looking forward to this one.
I did have some concerns. Re race preparation, it wasn't really the lack of volume that bothered me, but the lack of the usual quality and intensity. Though not feeling race fit, it was a big psychological plus that by the time the race came round, I did seem to be, at long last, injury free. In my own head I was confident I could get round OK, but would just have to be realistic regarding pace and time. A sub-11 was certainly out of the question.
For the record, my Garmin history of every session in the months up to the race:
March: Swim (7) 9km; Cycle (13) 1015km + 98km MTB (Karri Cup); Run: (7) 48km. Rest days: 12.
April: Swim (7) 13.7 km; Cycle (15) 1066 km; Run (7) 28km. Rest: 9 days.
May: Swim (12) 26.9 km; Cycle (11) 871 km + 4 x 28 min Power Crank session; Run (14x) 80k (inc Busso Half). Rest: 5 days
June: Swim (4) 9.3; Cycle (13) 825km; Run (9) 98km. Rest days: 9.
Though I did not get to do enough kilometres on the bike in June, I did get 10 days in the north of Italy to ride my bike for a short time most days, around, or in the hills overlooking Lake Como.
A surprising statistic for IM France was that the total accumulated elevation (I think around 2000m) was quite a bit less than the UK IM I did last year, in the Pennines around Bolton. Adding to the attraction of Nice was the fact that the marathon was relatively "easy", compared to Bolton's brutal run leg. Here, we would get to run along the majestic Promenade d'Anglais, for four 10.5km, absolutely flat laps.
Nice is a fantastic location for an Ironman. Despite it being such a densely populated large city, the cluster of hotels, and competitors, around the event site gives it that tangible positive Ironman vibe. However, the most one-eyed, Francophile, could never favourably compare Nice's pebble beaches, with the magnificent white sand beaches of WA. Yet, there was one plus factor and welcome distraction which might make the Cote d'Azure run leg more pleasurable on the eye than Geographe Bay - the choice of attire, or lack of, by the tanned sun-worshipping hot Euros!
The swim
Despite the best efforts of Paul Newsome and Aaron Robertson swimming is not my strength. My Ironman times are usually around the 1'20" mark give or take 5 minutes or so. In this swim, for the most part, I had absolutely no idea where I was, or in which direction I was going. I was close to lots of people, swimming in choppy water, waiting for it to finish.
But what is the go with these so-called "Australian" swims? The only place I think I have ever done an "Australian" swim, despite the vast majority of my triathlons being in Australia, is Europe - a theme which started in Bolton and was to continue in Zurich, 5 weeks after Nice.
Having to get out of the water twice, on a sharp pebble beach, with very steep profile, strong waves, and powerful backwash, was difficult, to say the least.
Even allowing for that difficult exit I can still not explain, or understand, how, or why, I managed to spend the best part of 13 minutes, yes, thirteen, in T1.
The ride
The bike choice for this race was not the usual Time Trial bike, but my road bike, a Cervello S5, with clip-on tri bars. This was beneficial, not only for the race, but also for the training rides I did. Last year I brought my Time Trial bike with me to do the Bolton Ironman. This was a mistake, not only for the undulating roads around Bolton, but also for an very painful descent of the Stelvio Pass I did prior to the race. In fact I think this might have been the catalyst for subsequent lingering neck and shoulder problems.
The Nice bike leg left me absolutely buzzing. Classic monster climbs, and long, long descents. Generally smooth, fast flowing corners, plus a few tricker, more technical sections. I loved it, and was very enthusiastic, and positive about it after the race when chatting with other competitors. It was without doubt, by some distance, the most enjoyable triathlon bike ride I have ever done.
Feeling a little sub par due to the compromised preparation, the power meter dictated a conservative pre-arranged pace, particularly up the many long climbs, some taking over an hour. This modest effort made it so much more enjoyable, being able to take in the stunning gorges and magnificent surroundings.
Going downhill was even better: quick, but not flat out; picking nice, safe, smooth, lines. It felt fast, but controlled and very enjoyable. Looking back, I was probably going considerably slower than Bradley Wiggins when he, in his own words "descended like a girl" during the wet in this year's Giro d'Italia. Despite this I was overtaking hundreds of riders.
Though the descents were long, and steep in places, some alongside vast chasms, the roads felt safe and predictable. It was the erratic cornering and general riding skills of too many fellow triathletes that made it dangerous. Ridiculous lines, braking in the wrong place, even on the apex, inexplicably slow, zero spatial awareness, drifting out for no reason, crossing onto the wrong side, generally all over the place and unpredictable. This will probably come across as arrogant, but the generally poor bike skills were good for my adrenaline fuelled ego. The senses were heightened, and had to be, as each overtaking manoeuvre had to be done predicting the unpredictable, feeding the buzz of the moment. It felt fantastic.
Sadly, and probably life's greatest irony, is that when feeling at your most alive, mortality is often at its closest. As I approached a village at 80kph or more, roughly half way through the bike leg, lining up a sharp corner, there was a policeman frantically waving his arms to slow us down. Apart from modifying my speed, and giving him plenty of room, I paid no great significance to the policeman or the few people assisting a rider who had just lost control. After all, I had seen the messy remnants of nasty looking crashes a few times already.
The run
An "easy" flat run, alongside the beach to the airport and back along an iconic promenade, four times. Lots of people watching, great support, and after such an easy end to the bike ride on the descent back into Nice, good legs. Perfect!
But a problem was brewing. Ever since awakening for the specially arranged 4 a.m. breakfast at the Nirvana hotel, things were not well in the stomach department. Why don't Europeans do oats? No beetroot juice anywhere and no oats. A couple of key factors for a smooth endurance event were not available. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to force the substitute stuff down, and it did not sit right all day. To compound my problems, the disruption to my routine contributed to missing another important pre-race ritual - a bloody good poo!
After 2 surprisingly comfortable laps - not fast but looking good for a comfortable sub 4 marathon - I needed a toilet. NEEDED! There seemed to be the odd portaloo around the circuit, but not many, considering there were over 2,500 athletes. Unfortunately, my desperation was becoming more critical by the second. Each loo I stopped at was shit splattered and disgusting. No matter how bad my spasms, there was not one I found to be even close to usable. In all honesty I would have preferred to squat and shit on the blue finish line carpet, in front of thousands, than use those toilets. What is so difficult about shitting straight?
So lap 3 was a disaster. I had degenerated from sustainable sub 1 hour laps, to a slow, painful, buttock clenched shuffle, interrupted every few minutes as I continued to look for an acceptable place to explode. Left with no option, at the end of the penultimate lap, and perilously close to having the most unpleasant, embarrassing experience of my life, I left the circuit near the finish chute to, at last, to find a suitable location to bask in indescribable, ecstatic relief. I could have relaxed there, totally content, for quite some time. I just needed a newspaper to read.
But there was a race to finish, and now, spasm free, and feeling several kgs lighter, off I went with buttocks unclenched, to enjoy the last lap at same pace as earlier in the day, and enjoy the best wishes of the enthusiastic and vocal spectators all the way to the finish. Brilliant!
The target: Once again too ambitious. I thought a could realistically achieve a sub 12, but failed by about 10 minutes. For the run, I was less optimistic, but still hopeful of doing a 4 hour marathon. Failed dismally here with around a 4'30" split. Beyond any kind of explanation is the 21 minutes I spent in transition???
On reflection, I was not really concerned with the times (I think the transition splits confirm that). Much more important was that I was still fit and healthy and the legs felt good. Apart from the toilet debacle, it was a really enjoyable day, a superb event in an amazing location.
The Ironman vibe was magnificently captivated by the last competitor to finish, in front of a huge crowd at precisely the 17 hour deadline, 11pm. At that split second the impressive Firework Display exploded into life. Perfect!
Except of course, it was not perfect. Far from it.
The tragedy
It was shocking to learn, at the following day's Presentation Dinner, why the policeman was so desperate for us to go slower. Not far in front of us a young bloke, aged 30, from the UK, suffered a tragic accident. He lost control, hit a wall in the village, and subsequently died from head injuries. Hence, it does not seem appropriate to now convey how fantastic, uplifting, and enjoyable this event was.
Just to emphasise what a lottery life is when challenging the laws of physics and pushing to the limit, we also learned that Female Pro Mary Beth Ellis had an 80kph crash, but escaped unscathed and went on to become the 2013 Ironman France champion.
Next stop
On to Mlan's Malpensa airport to pick Julie up for a 4 week Euro adventure, which included returning to Nice next week for the Team Time Trial of the Tour de France. Can't wait!
I have never really been exactly sure what a blog is, or what bloggers do. My only reference is from reading John Cooke's enlightening "iwantakonaspot" blog which is linked through Facebook. Now, being the extremely fortunate recipient of an exclusive Kona spot, inspired by the likes of John, and fellow triathletes met on my Euro travels this year, here were are - the pathway to Hawaii.
