Sunday 23rd July 2017: I’m sitting on the sofa following my afternoon nap, which I woke from because I was hungry. It’s been a week since I finished my first Ironman, but the appetite and fatigue are still there. As are the amazing memories and wonder of what I have done.
So what have I done? For those who already know the sport, while an Ironman is a cool thing, it’s an achievable thing. Proper planning, performance, discipline, and some mechanical fortune will see many a person to the finish line after a 2.4 mile swim, a 112 mile ride and a 26.2 mile run. But to those new to the sport, I want to point out that it’s not that easy, simple or formulaic. I know this, because I represent the marker point in timing of who becomes a finisher and sadly who does not because they exceed the allowed time to complete the race. My flat out best effort cycling speed of 13.1mph average over 112 miles is just enough to get a competent swimmer through the bike in time so they can start the run.
I know this because last week, four amazing people who started training with me didn’t make the finish line and so it’s for them as much as me that I write this blog - to undertake an ironman for me is not a sporting endeavour, it is the journey from the person you thought you were not: a swimmer, a runner, a cyclist, an athlete, confident, capable, mechanical, organised, disciplined - whatever label you want - metamorphosing into someone new, who can tackle scary descents, do roadside repairs, keep pushing for 16 plus hours, someone who can get up and swim three times a week, who will sit on indoor bicycles with sweat in our eyes, who will do the same while our fingers freeze outdoors, who will cook their meals in advance and schedule every moment of their days. Not because we want to, not because we enjoy it, but because we choose to suffer for a personal reason, cause or definition of ourselves. For those who didn’t make the finish line, you went on that journey, and don’t forget that.
I honestly feel that if I knew 12 months ago that I was capable of an Ironman, that it would not have held the same allure as it did because I knew I would have to take myself physically to places I had not been before. What I didn’t realise was how much of that journey was to be mental and emotional.
To cut to the chase, I did not enjoy the training. I had a bout of anxiety early in the season, on the hill of the Mow Cop Killer Mile which made me fear going uphill for the rest of that ride, and I consequently DNFed (did not finish) at 56 miles when the "sweep van" drew parallel with me. This knocked my confidence flying. I was wracked with sleepless nights leading up to the weekend fearing the Big Ride ahead. The traffic, clipping into pedals, the speed, the rain. I had been blown off on the A62 riding the moors in high winds. I had fallen off outside the Black Dog pub at Belmont, and smashed my saddle. Organised cycling sportives gave me route planning support but there was also long journeys by train or car to get around the country (from Cambridge to Scotland) and collect enough bike miles. I started a few rides by crying into my husband’s jumper to get rid of nerves. I am therefore so grateful to anyone who rode with me patiently or took starting lines with me in sportives, you have no idea how much it meant to me.
I missed my friends terribly, I became paranoid that most of them thought I was making excuses that I couldn’t see them (I was tired, or training, or preparing for the next session) and if I did see them I was so short of money it was embarrassing, I became to feel isolated, as if no one understood or cared what I was going through. Again I am so grateful for those who sent cards, food, pictures, messages and asked how I was doing either to humour me or because they knew I was frequently on the verge of tears.
I missed who I thought I was - I stopped campaigning, stopped volunteering, had little time to read about what was happening in the world and make it a better place. I felt very superficial and while I liked being part of the athlete’s tribe, I was not proud of how shallow I seemed to have become and how narrow my interests were. While Ironman does force you to concentrate on what is most important in life, without a bullet to your head, it often made you choose Ironman as the most important thing.
So what were the benefits of doing an Ironman, besides learning what your body is capable of and having a very cool medal, backpack and collection of tshirts?
I learned how amazing my support crew was. From my husband, who never complained and gave up so much time and energy to feed, fuel, drive, prep, clean, care for, me and our family. To my mum who rearranged her holiday to be at the start line. To the amazing people who turned up on race day - the sight at transition 2 where I completed the bike leg and moved onto the run will live with me forever. The humour of the whatsapp chat Jon set up to exchange supporter updates. The remote supporters, the care packages. My in laws who kept popping up, even with Hannah in a wheelchair and a frail mother-in-law in tow! A former colleague wrote to me after the race and said it was amazing to see how much love you all generated. Thank you. I am totally humbled.
I learned that "band of brothers" feeling. I joined a triathlon club and while truth be told they were a bit scarily intimidating because they were bloody quick, I did feel very loyal to them because they were so nice. While my race brains was mostly befuddled, as I passed my "special needs bag" (a bag you pack in advance should you need something on the course) I realised I should have got a tyre and inner tube to throw at one speedy club member who had already punctured twice. I spent the first hour of the bike ride trying to find out how one of the club, not a swim fan, had fared in the wash. As I was possibly carrying enough food and spares for a bike shop, I had visions of throwing them parts should I pass them with any mechanical issues on the ride. But it was the friends I made in the Facebook group UK Tri Ladies that I was most in arms with, for they were mortals like me and all but one of us feared the bike cut off. We had been swapping messages and support for months, some of us had met at events, and at the race briefing, the race commentator had reserved us a table, given us a shout out and arranged an official photo of us. We were part of the 15% of women who took the start line and we felt like VIPs. I felt devastated when I learned we had not all finished the race. Like the army’s ‘no man left behind’ mantra, I will be there when each of them takes their next Ironman attempt which may cruelly involve three climbs of Sheephouse Lane.
Finally, I learned that you can do anything if you put your mind to it. And I don’t mean that in a finish line, race day way. I mean in a greater sense. Ironman is a tough event because it has very strict rules about speed and outside support which prevent some people on certain days finishing. This may limit a moment (the red carpet, voice saying ‘you are an Ironman’) but it doesn’t stop The Dream, the redefining of yourself, the overcoming the voice that says ‘stay in bed’, the bettering yourself physically. About two weeks before the race, my yoga teacher took one look at me, and one look back into the person she had seen over the years and said “you are so much more than race day. Remember that, whatever happens. The journey you have been on is remarkable.”
To steal from other blogs like Crushing Iron:
“Ironman is one day and simply another in a long list of life’s deadlines. It’s a test to see if we can finish what we’ve started. A metaphor for all of those projects and dreams we want to complete. The more we finish something difficult, the easier it becomes to fold your laundry.”
“Ironman isn’t our job, our family or our life. It’s a vehicle to get better at all three. In the end, it is simply a stage on which we perform for one or two days a year. The reward ceremony at graduation.”
“When people ask my why I would do Ironman, I never have a clear answer. It’s obviously the challenge and accomplishment, but I think it’s more about the journey. About how the training along the way brings out the parts of you that might normally stay buried. The confidence, the clarity, the humility. You become more comfortable with your beliefs. The commitment forces you to appreciate what’s really important and you begin to lose interest in petty distraction and “filler” that sucks energy from your true path.”
And so to anyone who says ‘I couldn’t do what you do’ - well yes you can, you choose not to, and that’s fine because throwing a tonne of money at a 12 month sporting attempt isn’t for everyone - but everyone has a dream, it's scary because we might not achieve it, or scary because we might - and I would urge you to move in the direction of that dream because I found out that while it’s lonely, terrifying, and challenging, you will be amazed at the people who come to stand with you when you need it.
