Is this the Col de l'Ecre?

Ironman France arrives.

The nerves only emerged when we were nearing the starting point on the Promenade des Anglais at 5.30 am, looking out to sea. Neither The Editor nor I could see the buoys marking the first loop of the swim. Nor could the other 100 fellow entrants who were also gesticulating out to see. That meant it was going to be a very long way. Photographs taken of us just before we entered the preparation area indicate that the nerves hadn't abated by that point.

The first leg of the swim was like fighting your way through a fish farm. 2600 swimmers in a very small area of sea leads to a lot of slapping and kicking and hitting. Quite possibly some deliberate punching too, judging by how I was feeling. Every now and then you are sardined together with someone of similar stroke, like the swimming equivalent of a three legged race. You have to breathe to the other side to avoid getting your goggles whacked off. Occasionally, and randomly throughout the first swim loop, with less than 5 or 10 seconds warning, I spotted "the manic perpendicular swimmer" who for whatever reason hasn't looked where they should be going and would charge at you from the side. Since you can't afford to stop and waste time, you just have to continue swimming strongly and brace for the crash. These tangential kamikazes soon stop to reassess their current course immediately after impact. The first loop acted as a performance filter, allowing the second loop to be performed amongst peers; altogether a much more pleasant experience.

But it was shortly into the bike leg that I found out the organisers had lied to us.

The French idea of "flat" is very different from my own. I had been expecting a bit of a tough hill to cycle up at the 50km marker that would last for about 20km. Instead the climb began at the 20km marker and lasted for over 50km. After 30km, I asked anyone who would listen if this was the Col de l'Ecre. Not many listened, which is just as well really, as I was much better off not knowing that we hadn't even reached the start of the real climb.

I now know what it feels like to cycle uphill continuously for longer than all bar three of my entire training cycle rides. When you try to explain to Average Joe that this uphill was further than their 45 minute car commute to work, they just don't get it. And then we had 110km to go before the 42km marathon run. If you stopped to think about that during the cycle, you would end up sitting down and waiting for the sweeper bus to collect you as it made the last round of the course.

But what goes up must come down. And quite quickly too. Having the "advantage" of a perfectly average 16% body fat (as opposed to The Editor's 6%), the return part of the bike is dispensed with very quickly, and without a huge effort. This is truly gravity in action. It's annoying that about 12% of my body fat hangs around my midriff, although it helped me return to transition with the clock showing only 8 hours and 1 minute.

And so to the run. My overriding thought, right from the very first step, was to just make it to the next aid station, 1.7km away. It became apparent quite early that there was a lot of farting going on. Unusually for me, I'd already de-winded during the bike leg, so I didn't have much left to give. The other runners weren't holding back, though. Presumably they had been drinking too much of the not-so-flat flat coke that was on offer.

I'm usually a genteel chap, but it was quite heartening to be running past others who were walking and limping their way around the course. Under normal circumstances, I would rush to help someone whom I'd just watched collapse on the road ahead. But during Ironman, you just keep rushing on by. A stretcher will appear soon enough to whisk them away to a re-hydrating drip. In fact, the only time I came to a standstill on the run was at "Pishy corner", the slightly sheltered section of the run that everyone, boys and girls, decided to convert to an outdoor ablution area. I never believed a woman could pee standing up until I witnessed the same.

There were a number of noteworthy experiences that took place during the run. Knowing I would finish, despite hitting the wall after running 13 miles, with another 13 still to go on badly blistered feet. Not getting out of breath at any point, although that's what endurance training is all about. Being heartened and motivated by the cheering of complete strangers. Surprised that my body could accept yet another energy drink and carbohydrate gel right to the end. But mainly amazing myself that I had enough energy left to sprint the last 2km.

That last statement means that I could have gone faster, which is the addictive appeal of Triathlon.

My recovery was greatly assisted by the free bar at the after race party.

Overall target = achieved.

Next ...... !