Back to the world of M-Dot

It's been a while since I blogged. Life got derailed slightly or, rather, started again but that's a long story. As part of the renewal process and because I was turning 40 this year, I decided to enter the Mallorca Half Ironman as a present to myself. I knew it would be tough trying to juggle work, childcare and half ironman training but it was the focus I needed. Training was patchy if I'm honest and about January time, I seriously wondered whether it was all going to be possible but just couldn't bring myself to click the 'withdraw' button. I may be many things but 'quitter' isn't up there in my vocabulary. 

And so it was that I headed off to Majorca in early May with a few friends from the club not knowing what was in store. My swimming was in good shape and my running much improved by consistency and track sessions but I had been out on the bike on the road only 4 times since last Summer, had recently had a prolonged 'celebration' of my 40th birthday and so I knew it would be tough. 

The journey out there was interesting. A heady mix of focused triathletes and stag, hen and cougar tours off for a very different kind of weekend in Magaluf. Alcudia was away from that kind of fray though and a very nice little town that had been turned into 'Ironman Village' for the weekend. 

I got there on the Thursday, two days before the race and met up with my club mates to register, test the water and buy ridiculous amounts of 'M-Dot' merchandise. In between worrying about how choppy the water was and the conversations about the hour-long climb on the bike, I managed to relax and race day soon came round.

I managed to sleep the night before and woke up at 5 feeling pretty calm. I put on my Eminem tunes in the hotel room and then made the mistake of going to breakfast! Everyone looked so fit and focused and that's when the doubts started to creep in. I wasn't staying with the rest of the guys so I had to endure these doubts alone and it was made worse by not being able to find my friend, Ali, who was the only one that understood how my new wetsuit worked. 

I wandered around the 800m long transition for a while and then the beach and found another friend, James, who did me up. By this time, I just felt totally sick and then all of a sudden it was time to line-up. 

It was a stunning morning in Alcudia and as the sun came up, I and the rest of the 600 women entered the water for a beach start. As soon as the klaxon went off, it was about 300m of chaos and waterpolo swimming to find clear water. I kept my arms high to avoid being battered and just tried to find a steady rhythm. By the time I got to the turnaround buoy, it had thinned out a lot and I enjoyed the current taking me in. As I exited the water, my lovely new suit came off like a dream and I heard my friends screaming "great swim time, Soph". I had decided not to wear my Garmin in the swim as I always get it stuck on my wetsuit and it is a distraction checking how I'm doing. As such, I had no idea how good my swim was (turned out to be 31.54 for 1900m which is a massive PB and 19th in my age group). 

Transition was pretty slick and, although 800m long to accommodate the 3500 entrants, I got through it pretty quickly. Then it was out on the bike. It was lovely to get onto closed roads but I was massively apprehensive about this bit of the race. As usual, people came flying past me in droves but they were all friendly and I just decided to focus on my race and not worry about my swim advantage slipping away from me. At 22k, we started to climb and, boy, that's when it became heavy weather. I slowed right down and just ground up in the heat being passed constantly and wishing I could rip my calf guards off. Lots of people were shouting words of encouragement as they flew past and it helped. Finally, after a few false dawns and 8 miles, I got to the top and then decided to go for it on the descents to claw back some time. By now, it seemed like an eternity since the feed station and I was running out of drink. That was my one criticism of the race actually as on a climb like that in that weather, the feed stations were too spread out and my hydration strategy, which I had taken really seriously, was starting to look in trouble. I got there in the end though and managed to restock. 

The rest of the ride was relatively fast and flat although it claimed a few casualties as people, presumably pumped from the fast descent, forgot to slow down for bends! 

By mile 50 on the bike, I'd pretty much had enough of cycling and just wanted to get back to transition to give my bum and shoulders a break. After a bit of a slog in headwinds, we finally turned into the town and the roar from the supporters was incredible and so nice to see my friends. 

Another quick transition and it was out onto the 3-lap run course. By now temperatures must have been up to about 28 degrees and it was a battle to stay hydrated. I felt ok to begin with and the legs didn't feel too bad but from about 5k, I started to wonder how I was going to find the energy to complete the run.

I managed to raise a smile when I saw my lovely friends, Alex, Ali and Lisa as I headed out on lap 2 but my head was telling me a different story. By the time I saw them again at the start of lap 3, I was flagging big time but their screams lifted my spirits and I knew it was just another 7k till this thing was over. I knew from my Garmin that I would be under 7 hours but, even with a good swim, I had calculated that 6.5 was probably slipping out of reach. I found some reserves though as I knew I would hate myself afterwards if I hadn't given it everything. Imagine my surprise then when I turned into the finishing chute and saw a time of 6.23! I really had had a good swim! 

During the race, I kept saying to myself that this really was the last one but the feeling was pretty shortlived. A 6.23 half ironman on only 4 rides on the road shows you the art of the possible... 

Youuuuu are an Ironman!

I wondered if this day would ever come but I have the very great privilege of now writing up my race report.

So went to bed the night before the race at 8pm and, surprisingly, managed 6 straight hours. Still meant I was awake at 2am with a very long day ahead of me. Finally got up at 4 and got ready and a pretty limited breakfast in the hotel before the buses arrived at 5. It was all a bit frantic and I ended up being herded on an 'athletes' bus while the family had to go separately. As soon as I was on the bus, I wanted to get off again and be with them and had a horrible, nerve-filled journey sat next to another guy with his head in his hands the whole way which did nothing for my state of mind. By the time I met up with them at transition, the tears were in full flow.

Checked over the bike and pumped up the tyres and then had to say my farewells, by this time feeling like I was having a total out-of-body experience. Then we all got shepherded to the jetty to wait for the swim start. Luckily I was really close to Chris, Dora, Giles, Sally, Harriet and my Dad so was able to do lots of waving and pretending to look relaxed and excited! It was all awash with nervous energy, loud techno tunes and the Mexican national anthem on that jetty and, all of a sudden, it was time for the pros to start. Necked a gel and then made my way into the water.

The Swim
Despite knowing the swim was going to be my strongest event, I've also done enough research with mates and race reports to know not to go too near the front in a race of 2300 people especially as I was really nervous about getting kicked in the collarbone so found some clear water and just waited. Then the klaxon went and we were off.





It was fine initally and I got a nice pace going and started to gain a few places. What I hadn't bargained for was the first turnaround buoy which suddenly became like a scene from 'Titanic' and I'm afraid to say that my language got fairly choice when someone grabbed both my ankles and dragged me under.

It calmed down a bit after that and got a really nice, steady pace going for a while. Suddenly I was overtaking quite a few and was starting to hope for a decent time. Out of nowhere, someone smashed me right on the bridge of the nose and I got a reality jolt not to get too complacent. After that, I just kept my wits about me, kept it steady and started hoping I'd soon see the finish. It was a really sunny morning which made sighting really difficult, including the swim exit. But suddenly I saw the steps and heard the noise and I was there. Climbed up the steps, saw my 'crew' and then looked at my watch. Happy days!

Predicted time: 1.15
Actual time: 1.09

T1
Washed off the salt, got handed my bike bag and headed to the changing tent. Had a helper help me out my swimskin and get all my bike stuff ready but was all fingers and thumbs so made slow progress especially with my skintight arm coolers. Was slightly concerned to hear they had no sunscreen but had no time to worry about that and just hoped the cursory bit I'd applied in the morning would do me (it didn't). Quick loo stop, quick "hi" to Emma, another English girl I'd 'met' on a tri forum and it was off to collect the bike. Got another shout from the gang and managed a smile to let them know I was in better spirits and it was time to tackle my nemesis: the bike.

Predicted time: 5 mins
Actual time: 9 mins something (ah well, better to be sorted than rush things before such a long ride)

The Bike
I've made no secret about my bike fear and with an average speed of 14mph in training, those fears were absolutely justified. As soon as I got on the bike course literally hundreds of people were flying past me but I tried to just shut it out and looked down at my speedo and had to blink when I saw 19mph into the wind.



Felt great so didn't want to slacken off but got to about 16 miles and my stomach started cramping. Slowed it right down and just tried to sip water to make it pass. It went off after a bit and so got on the tri bars (a first!) and just kept those wheels turning. The island got really pretty at this point but also really windy and lonely support-wise. Made sure I stopped at every other aid station for Powerbar gels and Gatorade (yuk) and after about 15 miles of cycling into the wind, we made the turn into town. With the wind behind me and loads of locals yelling 'vamos!', the steed and I flew back into town. Was really looking forward to seeing the family back in town and see Dora's little face so the mood nose-dived when I didn't see them and had to head out on lap 2. Just had to talk the demons away and stay focused. What I didn't know at the time was that they weren't expecting me for ages so were ordering the next round of drinks!!!

Lap 2 was ok and got more friendly as the course thinned out and I kept seeing the same people and was able to have the odd chat (still pedalling of course and no drafting - except the Mexican who drafted me for a few miles. Grr). The speedo was still telling me good news and, despite the sun beating down on my shoulders and my head beginning to ache, I felt strong. Was looking forward again to the end of the lap and hopefully seeing them this time but, again, they weren't in town. Started to feel really low and, then, all of a sudden, I saw their Union Jack. Stopped for a quick chat and a hug and was delighted when they told me I was looking at about a 7-hour bike split.

It was quite hard to leave and go out on the final lap but I knew I just had to keep plugging away. The final lap was hard. I had only done one ride in training over 80 miles and it showed. It was seriously hot by this point, the wind had picked up, my toes on my left foot were complete pins and needles and I had to loosen my helmet as my temples were throbbing. It was hard to keep the speed up and started to get disconsolate when the needle started slipping into the 13mph zone. But, by this time, there was a few of us in the same boat and a quick pep talk at the aid station and meeting up with Ben who I'd met in the Ironman Cozumel Facebook Group really helped.

I couldn't wait to turn the corner back into town and finally it came and the wind pushed me all the way back. Barring mechanical failures, I had 6 miles till I'd nailed the bike and I knew I was well within the cut-off time. The atmosphere was amazing back in town and it was lovely to finally see the dismount chute and be able to go down it. I'd done it! I'd looked at my 112-mile bike ride in the eyes and stared it out. Now just the small matter of the marathon to deal with!!

Predicted time: 8 hours+
Actual time: 7.03

T2
Transition was a bit of a faff. Trying to get compression socks on over salty, sweaty, sunburnt legs was a challenge but, again, the helpers were out in force. Managed to remember to take my helmet off and spare myself looking like a total doughnut, necked some water and was out of there.

Predicted time: 5 mins
Actual time: 5.50

The Run
So, coming from a running background, having never suffered from 'transition legs' and having been consistently surprising myself in training, I went into the Ironman marathon feeling pretty positive I could run around the 4.30 mark. How arrogant/naive/both!

The run course at Cozumel is 3 laps of 8.7 miles out to the airport and our hotel and back with a nasty twist of a turnaround point just as you could see others running up the finishing chute. As soon as I started to 'run', I realised what doing an hour quicker on the bike was going to mean. Not only was there another couple of hours of blazing, hot Caribbean sun to deal with but my legs had been mullered by the winds down on the South coast. Despite running a 9.09 min-mile for my first mile, it was downhill from there on in. There were aid stations less than 1k apart and they were pretty necessary. At the first one, someone thrust what looked like clear ice pops at me and, in my wearied state and at a loss as to what to do with them, I shoved two down my top! What I soon realised at the next station as I'm searching around for water to combat the heat is that the ice-pops were, indeed, water tubes. And very welcome they were too!



The first lap was fairly uneventful, save for the realisation that this wasn't going to be quite the 'walk in the park' I'd hoped. I was guzzling water and coke to try to stay hydrated but I couldn't help noticing the pacing slipping on my Garmin all the time. I started looking forward to getting into town and seeing the family and it was lovely to see them all jumping up and down and waving flags. Back out onto the 2nd lap and, as I hit 14 miles, I started to feel so sick from all the caffeine gels, sport beans and coke I'd been drinking and hit a real low point. Another naive thought came back to haunt me. I'd read that only 1% of people run the whole way in an Ironman marathon and, yup, I thought I was going to be one of the 1%. WRONG! Walking on and off from mile 14 onwards!

Was desperate to get back into town to see the family and was devastated when, even though they hadn't moved, I missed them and they missed me. Went round that turnaround point with such a heavy heart and literally wanted to punch the smiley faces I could see on the video wall who were just finishing! I really didn't know how I was going to run or walk another 8.7 miles even though giving up never entered my head. Just as I was heading back out of town, I heard Harriet shouting and they were all there. I think I was a little bit delirious at this point but stopped for a quick word and was then sent packing! The shuffle out of town was horrendous. As I hit 18 miles and the traditional marathon 'wall', any energy reserves I had drained completely away. Giles must have seen a defeatist twinkle in my eye back in town as, just as I was having those thoughts, I heard him bellowing out of a taxi window! He and Sally had decided I needed support on the lonely section that was, by now, dark, full of mosquitoes and had people in various states lolling by the roadside! It was an inspired decision by them and I will forever be in their debt for being there from mile 21-25. At this stage I was trying to run 60 paces: walk 60 paces; run 5 minutes: walk 1 minute etc. Basically any combination that would break this thing down.

Just as I was hitting another bad patch at 23 miles and walking, Giles and Sally jumped out from the shadows at me, told me I was awesome and somehow the legs picked up again. At mile 25, I could hear music in the town and they appeared again but this time I was already running strongly (ish). I started to look at my watch again and wonder if a 10 min-mile was possible for the last mile but I realised it was actually 1.2 miles to the finish and that it didn't matter. I put every ounce of effort I could into that last mile and even overtook a couple of places. Suddenly the noise was deafening but, over it, I heard Chris shouting my name. Harriet thrust a flag of St. George in my hands and I turned into the chute.



As people were shouting my name and banging the hoardings, I stood on the line with my flag above my head, a massive grin on my face and heard: "Sophie Spink: YOU ARE AN IRONMAN". 15 months of training, a broken collarbone and a brain that had been completely 'Ironwashed' later, and I was!

Predicted time: 4.30
Actual time: 5.05

Predicted Total Race Time: 15 hours (14.30 at a real push)
Actual time: 13.32.32

On the precipice

What a strange day. Yesterday I was so calm and, dare I say it, even a tad excited. Today the nerves have kicked in big time. I know I'm not alone. There are about 2300 people walking round Cozumel sporting the thousand mile Ironman stare. Doesn't matter who you are, the nerves get you in the end...with the exception perhaps of Phil at Giles and Sally's hotel who went out on the beers last night?!?!

Today I had to load up my 5 bags of kit and drop off my stuff and bike off at transition and get body marked. It's superbly organised and they're going to look after us, I'm sure so perhaps £300 entry fee is justified after all.

The rest of the day was spent chilling, eating and drinking electrolyte as well as a trip to the supermarket to load up on last minute supplies. Have no idea if I'll sleep tonight. Had a bad night last night having realised I'd forgotten the energy product I've been using all through training but that's how it goes. Just hope the stuff they give out agrees with me. So, am tired and have a belly full of carbs which will hopefully afford me a few hours shuteye before one of the biggest days of my life.

Do I feel ready? Not sure. Do I still want it? More than ever...........

We're here!!!!

Ok so it's Thurs 25th November. Only 3 more sleeps till the off!

Had a great flight out here. Dora was an absolute superstar and behaved impeccably for all of the 11 hour journey. Pretty tired when we finally got to the condo (which was lush) so crashed, only to wake up again at 2.30 with body clock weirdness going on.

This morning we headed from Playa del Carmen on the mainland to Cozumel on the ferry after a slightly hairy moment when the gang plank was being put away and my bike was still sitting on the quayside!! All was well though and the ferry was typically Mexican complete with 4-piece band knocking out 'La Bamba' numbers!!!!

At Cozumel, the World turned into Ironman City. Hardly a leg hair or body art-free human being to be seen. And the bike porn. Oh my word! Was also nice to see a pro (Emma Kate Lidbury) queuing up at the dock with the rest of the hoi-poloi.

After checking into the hotel, we headed down to registration and I am now sporting my athlete's band. So nice to be wearing it this time not just to get free entry to the pasta party! Bought ridiculous amounts of Ironman Cozumel merchandise as, even though it might be tempting fate, it was going like hotcakes and I don't want to miss out.

Put the bike back together and had my first lesson in using CO2 canisters (no, I'm not joking - my Schwalbe tyres were so awesome and their Continental replacements wanna be too) and had a swim in the sea (clear, warm, lots of fish) and now the waiting game continues. My brother and his wife have now arrived too so that'll be fun.

Have had so many encouraging and tearjerking cards and messages so with the support I'll have on the ground, as well as all those cheering me on at home, I know it will lift me in the bad patches.

Adios!!

Figures

The title of this blog is figures for a couple of reasons.
1. This week (Friday) marked the move on the countdown into singles!
2. Ironman budgeting (what budgeting?) went even further out the window (70 quid on tyres? Are you sure?)
3. Not sure it's quite ever the same figure after a baby but went on the scales at the gym this week and was the same weight as I was in the week of my wedding!

This week's been mad. Chris has been working away all week, work's been busy and the big girl has been carrying on the games. My X Factor Saturday night is currently being severely hampered by incessant trips upstairs. She got up at 6.45 this morning, only had a 15 min nap in the car and is still 100% awake. Wish I could transplant her energy levels to take with me round that course next week. Unbelievable. The day she asks for a wetsuit, look out tri circuit!

Not only did I get new tyres but also had bike serviced at the new Sigma shop (lush by the way). Bless Dave, Chris's friend and bike mechanic who used to work at 'our' shop. He wanted to do it personally and he's done a fine job. Took her for my final ride before packing today and she was purring and so sparkly clean.

So, the rest of the weekend is about packing, maybe another swim with Dora (who finally found her love for the water today) and a run with my dear friend, Jo, who I met in my 2nd week at Ranelagh Harriers in 2001 and who is now talking about doing a half ironman next year! We've both had quite a journey in those 9 and a bit years and it's going to be pretty special doing an Ironman on her birthday. Thinking back on my own journey since 2001, I joined a running club as I'd been good at cross country at school and was disgusted that I'd let it all go,
become a smoker, drinker and take away eater and had piled on the lbs. That running club led me to health, fitness, triathlon, my husband, daughter and, now, in 8 days' time, one of the ultimate tests of human fitness. Know I've been pretty (too) philosophical in the last few posts but this is suddenly a big deal. Just wish I'd tallied all the miles I've swam, biked and run in the lead-up to this event as I'm sure it would give me confidence. All I know is, I only got my bike speedo in August and have ridden 1137 miles since then which I'm pretty pleased about considering I'll never call myself a cyclist.

Right, off to watch Wagner. Can't help thinking he'll be knocking about when we get back from Mexico. Groan.

Tapering and Pre-race build-up

Thought I'd update this while I play the Supernanny game AGAIN before I can get on the turbo. Somewhere in my infinite wisdom, I thought moving Dora to a junior bed in the lead-up to Ironman would be a sound idea. Big mistake. Aside from probably the first night some 5 weeks ago, she's been in and out more times than a fiddler's elbow. This has meant many a late start on the turbo and tonight is no exception. The key, Supernanny tells me, is to keep putting them back with no conversation and no eye contact until they get the message. But our daughter's a determined little thing (can't think where she gets it from). Anyway, so as relaxing and light-touch as I'd hoped and longed for the taper to be, really it hasn't at all. Firstly, the number of hours haven't reduced that significantly and, secondly, there was no chapter in Don Fink about important milestones in your child's life!!!! There was one exception and that was last Saturday's run. Dropping 3 to 2 hours made it suddenly seem like a breeze. Loved it and had a good pace going all the way round.

Breaking off for an hour. Don't like to speak too soon but I think I may have to concede that Supernanny is onto to something! 8.30. It's a record!!!!

Back again. Great session tonight. Really enjoyed it even though I thought I might not. So, back to tapering and pre-race update.
It's certainly been a case of ups and downs this last week:

Ups (in no particular order):
* my brother hand-delivering my Blueseventy WTC-legal swimskin during his whistlestop visit to the UK. They are so rare you can only buy them in the US at the moment.
* trying out said skin in the pool during the 'family swim' hour at Virgin on Friday. Cut through those little cherubs with no lane discipline like
a barracuda!
* dear Liz looking after Dora at short notice so I could do the above
* tri club awards dinner. Lots of fun with the Kingfishers and even won one of their comedy awards which made me feel really welcome
* spending Saturday night with Alice and Paul talking about Ironman and lots of other lovely stuff. Paul also lent me his lush Evoc bike box so will endeavour to guard it with my life and Alice gave me a lovely good luck card with the words from a stamp I bought her in Austria after her race stamped inside. They're in German but translate as "no road is long with a friend at your side". I will be taking lots of people with me in my head next Sunday and Team Austria is no exception.
* finally, a real highlight was a turbo session I did whilst Dora was watching 'Waybuloo'. Not ideal for either of us but it was literally the only opportunity to get a session in. Halfway through, Dora leaves Lau Lau, Yo Jo Jo and the rest and starts coaching me!! "faster, faster" she kept saying and then "ironman". Bless her! Not sure if this link will work but I recorded her



Downs:
* reading too many Ironman Cozumel race reports and ending up in tears. Though all have had happy endings, they have all sounded brutal and unenjoyable and a far cry from the European ones I'm used to. The wind, which I knew about, sounds pretty bad but the humidity and swarms of mosquitoes and "bodies by the side of the road" (no, there was no further explanation?!) do not excite me in the least and far too
many of the people were doing 6-hour run splits.
* being a moody cow and horrible to my husband
* finding or imagining niggles all over my body (tonight is my right foot)
* negative head space and inner demons telling me I haven't done enough training and I don't deserve to be on that start line.

Good to get that all off my chest and Alice summed it up today by telling me not to worry and to remember that it's all supposed to be fun!!!! So from now on, it's looking forward with excitement. Aside from anything else, in a week's time, we're leaving foggy, chilly, gloomy UK to head to the Caribbean. That's worth getting excited about!!

Have I done enough?

On my rest day at the beginning of Week 28 and, therefore, Day 1 of the taper, I've been mulling over the training programme and have even dug out the Don Fink training book to go back over how things have been. With 3 weeks to go, Ironman never leaves my waking (or sleeping) thoughts and I'm swaying between being overcome with excitement and a desire to just get on with it and the other waves of sickness that wash around in my tummy every time I think about the task ahead.

I doubt anyone ever goes into a race feeling the preparation has been perfect. The one thing I can say is that I've been consistent and committed to what my training programme says week in, week out, with the slight exception of the swim which has been harder with all the lakes shut. Swimming 3500m in a pool on a regular basis, especially when your pool is an 18m one, is not exactly motivation fodder. But, otherwise I have generally felt pleased with what I've done. So, in my last peak week of the plan, I was gutted to not do a really long ride. It happened for reasons beyond my control and even though I know that 'life happens', it's thrown me into a bit of a spin about whether it's that that's going to make or break my race. Of course it isn't. 1 session out of 15 months is not end of the world and the day after a 3-hour run but I can't help now feeling I don't deserve the taper. What can I say - I'm too hard on myself about everything I do and Ironman was certainly never going to change that.

But, having got that off my chest, the next 3 weeks are now about looking forward, making plans, lists, sleeping, eating and hydrating well and keeping the fitness ticking over and sharp while also not risking any last-minute mishaps. I very nearly broke that rule on day 1 tonight by being tempted to swim but then I realised that I've not skipped a rest day all this time so why start now when I'm supposed to be easing back?! So, have a tummy full of fajitas (launching the Mexican theme), am serving myself a deadline of finishing this before 9.30 and then I'm off to rub Badger Balm on the temples and sleep before training early doors. Despite the taper, I still have to do 12 hours 45 this week so it's no picnic!

Before I sign off, wanted just to capture some stuff from Don Fink (loving re-reading all the motivational stuff in there) and his 4 phases of why Ironman?:
1. Non-belief and the first thought when you see IM on TV or learn the exact distances (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike and a marathon back to back and within 17 hours) and you say "that's impossible".
2. Realisation when you see individual athletes and their heroic struggles to the finish and their sense of pride and accomplishment. Suddenly the impossible starts to become possible.
3. Curiosity. You start asking questions - why do people do this? What motivates them? How do they do it? How do they train?
4. The Dream. You start to ask yourself the question - I wonder if I could ever do it? I wonder if I could ever be an Ironman?

Once you ask yourself question 4, you are beyond the point of no return!

I know there are lots of variables on an Ironman - mechanical breakdown, brutal weather, nutrition mistakes, stomach rebellion to name but a few and I was gutted to hear about a Brit who pulled out of Ironman Florida last weekend due to unforeseen pelvic pain - but all I can do now is wait and hope that Lady Luck smiles on me a bit.

Right, have missed my 9.30 deadline. Eek! Goodnight!