Fine tuning

It has arrived. Well, part of it anyway. The frame; without wheels, pedals, gears, handlebars, etc. Just a frame. But it's a start. And a good start. When you ping it, it resonates like a tuning fork. I'm taking that to be a good sign.

Now I've just got to get every other bit for the bike, but actually have no clue about headsets and BB30s. This Ironman doesn't half take up some time you know.

In other news, this weeks timed 5k event saw me home in a time of 22mins exactly, which is quite good considering I'm carrying the equivalent of around 165 mars bars in excess bulk around my midrift and haven't trained. At least my base fitness appears to be lurking in the background somewhere.

A long distance challenge approaches - The Devil 'o the Highlands ... and it's another race between The Editor and I. He beat me in the Highland Cross and won't let me forget it, despite the fact that he's doing Ironman Zurich in a month, so should be fit as a butcher's dog, while I've been sitting on my backside for most of this year.

No excuses - it's results that count.

The wind in Spain blows mostly in your face

Registration was in French for some peculiar website reason; and just in time as all the places were booked out within a matter of a few more days.

As The Editor annunciates, "We're going to Lan-za-wrote!"

Gotta get me a new wetsuit, gotta get me a new bike, gotta get me some new shoes. The itch has resurfaced and I'm gonna scratch it hard.

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 ...... !

Cannes we do it?

It's like running the gauntlet over here. If it's not avoiding the full blown, severe cold bug passed from The Editor to The Editor's wife 2 days before our trip, it's navigating safe passage through the rush hour French traffic during our quick cycle over to Cannes to loosen the legs. Funny how you feel safe inside a metal box and so vulnerable outside of it.

The Editor's early morning bipolar episodes of rapid discharge horrified the neighbouring campers. At least they didn't happen both at the same time, what with only his head making it out of the tent to vomit. I can't imagine what his wife would have made of that, had she been trapped inside the tent still. I think it's nerves - all in the mind; pre-race tension. 24 hours later and it's back to normal.

Well, that is until we go to register and it all becomes overwhelmingly real .....

Current weight is unknown, but there's not much eating in this heat.

Ironman France approaches

I just clicked on to the Ironman France website to check out where to see the live internet coverage.

Seulement 9 jours jusqu'à l'Ironman France 2009 !

You don't have to speak French to know that's serious.

I can already feel the nervous energy and hear the deafening silence of those final 10 seconds before the start of the race. My blood just ran cold. I am properly sh**ing myself now.

Current weight is 13 stones 2 pounds (184 pounds / 83.5 kg).

Out of breath

Hardly. And that's the thing.

Yesterday I was mountain biking for 3 hours up some crazy land rover tracks and then I went for a hilly 1 hour run on steep forest trails. At the end of it, I had a cup of coffee, a couple of chicken rolls, 2 pieces of cake and went home. And I did that for fun because I was getting a bit fed up of Ironman training.

At no point did I feel the need to stop. At no point was I even out of breath. My aerobic capacity has increased to such a level that it's only really useful for endurance events. What will happen after Ironman?

Current weight is 13 stones 6 pounds (188 pounds / 85.3 kg)

Triathlon anniversary

This time last year I was extremely nervous about competing in my first Sprint Triathlon. It was the first test of my weight loss, and one of the major goals I had been gearing my training towards.

This year I slept in and only managed to participate in the race after The Editor managed to register for me. Turning up 5 minutes after registration has closed, and 1 minute before Transition closes is not the wisest race strategy. But the extra 30 minutes in bed paid off.

In June, 2008, I came 121st out of 262, with a time of 1 hour, 27 minutes and 5 seconds.
In June, 2009, I came 38th out of 261, with a time of 1 hour, 14 minutes and 49 seconds.

My swim time improved 12 seconds. But this time I didn't even approach my anearobic threshold and I left the pool feeling great and ready for the bike.

My bike time improved by 5:07, partly due to using a merely 19 year old bicycle instead of a 59 year old one, but mostly due to my quads.

My run time improved by 6:43. That is considerable, and the visible result of a year of training.

Combined with an improvement in transition times, that's a overall 12 minute, 16 second improvement, which equates to around 14%.

The Editor wonders what I might have achieved if I'd started all this 14 years ago when I had youth on my side. Thankfully I was too busy eating pizza and drinking beer to think about it.

Current weight is 13 stones 4 pounds (186 pounds / 84.4 kg).