There’s nothing like having 2 broken ribs to really take the pressure off an Ironman PB.
Although this would be my 3rd Ironman and my 2nd with broken ribs, so I was beginning to wonder whether the universe way trying to tell me something. Maybe it was just that I was made out of glass.
It had all started about 5 weeks ago, when a couple of work colleagues had got REALLY enthusiastic about safety training at work and it ended up with me getting sat on. Ribs don’t tend to like that sort of thing, particularly not when it’s a couple of big lads and there was a popping sound and a familiar pain.
Not particularly good timing, 5 weeks before an iron distance triathlon (that’s a 3.8km swim, 180km bike and a 42.2km run). I’d been training for this for about 8 months and it was a destination race, in the town of Kalmar in Sweden. I was flying over to Copenhagen and then getting a train through Denmark and up to Kalmar with bike, luggage and family in tow.
Everything had been going a bit too well with training and racing so I should have expected karma to chuck a curveball in there somewhere, right?
But on the plus side it REALLY took the pressure off. Everything was already paid for (I never dare add up the costs of Ironman … it would be horrifying and I’d start thinking about all of the things I SHOULD have spent the money on) and if it went wrong, well … I’d still get a nice holiday in Sweden.
It all went fairly smoothly on the way over, ice cream in the hotel the night before, the traditional ‘Spoons breakfast at the airport and a flight where I fell asleep as soon as the wheels left the tarmac and woke up again as they bumped back down again. The trick is to book yourself a window seat on a different row on the plane to your family so you don’t get dragged into quizzes, fights over snacks or having to get up to let someone else go to the loo.
The airport was easy and we were soon on the train to Kalmar which is a long-distance train from Denmark to Sweden. The landscapes were very different to what I’m used to on my commute in the UK. Instead of hedges, fields and then concrete and warehouses, we were looking at a lot of forested areas with the occasional red painted houses with grey slate roofs. We even spotted an occasional deer.
Arrived without problems in Kalmar and then it was a short bus ride to the chalet we’d booked which was in the garden of someone’s house. It was VERY compact (think oversized dolls house!) but Lily’s room was in the open plan attic roof which she adored. However, the first cultural difference was apparent quickly – no kettle! I was reduced to heating water in the microwave like an American! The property also came with 3 heavy metal bikes which we could use for getting around town. We had to pedal backwards to stop like Dutch bikes. What could go wrong? At least there weren’t any trams I could crash into in Kalmar. (Another story)
Kalmar town was coastal and the shoreline was made up of small wooded islands and the big bridge to Oland (the big island off the coast) dominated the skyline. The bike section of the event would take us over the long bridge (3.75 miles across!) for a loop of the island before coming back onto mainland Sweden.
I planned a scenic leg stretch run between some of the islands which were wooded and linked by wooden bridges. The whole place felt secret and magical. It was already hot at 0800hrs and there were lots of friendly dog walkers out. Each house was pretty and well-kept and smartly painted. I was careful to keep the run to a nice easy pace ahead of the big race and then…
… I was so busy looking around and enjoying the scenery, I tripped over a bump in the path. Ouch. Straight down. Just exactly what I didn’t want with some fragile ribs. I scraped my knee, grazed my hand and knocked my ribs – again.
Fine. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just don’t get kicked in the swim.
Not a euphemism.
REGISTRATION
The whole town was buzzing as I walked into the centre to find the Ironman expo to pick up my bag and register for the race. I’d already paid and registered almost a year ago, but in the few days leading up to an Ironman event, they open the registration tent where you get a fabric Ironman band put around your wrist (and secured so you can’t take it off) which gets you entry into the bike and athlete areas, a rucksack with the event branding on it, some kit bags (one for bike, run and streetwear which you hang up on your numbered peg) and your race swim cap, chip and ankle band and race numbers. It’s quite a feeling standing in that queue and feeling the anticipation.
This is it. It’s real now.
But in true ironman tradition … and for the 2nd time out of my 3 triathlons my name was incorrect on the official merchandise. I can’t even take any credit for spelling my own name wrong. Last time Copenhagen missed out names A-F on the official merchandise and this year they’d printed my maiden name rather than the name I’d registered under. C’mon Ironman. I paid £600 for this event. At least print my name right!
A house mortgage price spent on merchandise plus supporter’s t-shirts purchased, we got an ice cream and went to watch the start of the 4:18:4 triathlon. We sat on the harbour with my friend Rich who had talked me (without too much trouble) into doing this event. It was nice seeing other people putting in a lot of effort while I was sitting there on the warm grass eating ice cream. My turn soon but for now … ice cream and sitting.
The next day Rich and I had planned a bike recce of a small section of the course so we could get a feel for it. I took my heavy metal bike (ROCK ON!!) out onto the beautiful smooth cycle paths into the centre of Kalmar where Rich had rented an apartment. My bike was called Elvira and she was a lesson in patience. She took a little while to get moving and once she was moving, she wasn’t keen on stopping. The ride in was on smooth tarmac cycle paths, past the inlets and beaches and it was quite beautiful. I decided I’d like to move to Kalmar.
We sat in the stands which were already set up for the race finish and watched the race briefing. This went over the rules again and tricky parts of the course and all of the ways you could get disqualified, nudity, littering, drafting other cyclists, weeing and being rude amongst others. Drafting was one of the ones that worried me the most on a busy bike course - it’s difficult dropping back quickly enough if you’re being overtaken and you’re relying on the people you overtake to drop back too. I didn’t want to get DQd after finally getting here despite being a bit broken!
The bike recce was lovely and the roads gave us an idea of what to expect on the mainland side. It was undulating but not hilly and the road surfaces were marvellous - particularly compared to the UK! We lost the light fairly early so knocked 8km off the end of the course but it was nice to test the bikes out after their long trip.
BIKE RACKING
This really feels like the point of no return. I loaded up my rucksack with the event bags and headed off on my bike to drop her in transition with the kit.
I hung up my bag (with the special knot so any rain couldn’t get in!) and put my beautiful Ribble bike in her spot. Packed the snack box with the pick n mix and felt so smug about being so organised that I videoed my bike prep … then realised - while videoing - that I’d racked in the wrong spot. Idiot girl.
Re-racked bike to the correct spot and then took a walk to the swim in and bike out entry and exits so when I’m full of adrenaline and seawater and pick’n’mix tomorrow morning I wouldn’t have to think too hard to find my bike.
OK. Bike sorted. Just the bike bottles and sausage rolls to add tomorrow morning before I set off!
Went to get the snacks from the local 7-11. Having trained all summer on easy-to-get snacks, I’d assumed sausage rolls were pretty much a worldwide thing. Even if Greggs wasn’t. Meat in bread. Simple right? Nope. Tomorrow I will be fuelling on salami in a baguette. And smoked cheese. Actually it sounded delightful. If not exactly coach-mandated.
Meh. It’s a no pressure race. If I get kicked in the side on the swim, it would be game over anyway. May as well have a delightful day and have GOOD SNACKS.
I had a tiny blister from wearing new sandals on Wednesday and true to form with my luck this week, it was now septic and oozing pus. Marvellous. There goes my foot-modelling career. Oh hang on .…
However, the horrible tummy upset did concern me a little bit. Nothing spoils a race photo like poop running down your legs. Oh well. Let’s see what tomorrow brings. Hopefully good snacks, no pus and shit-free pics.
RACE DAY
I set off at 0500hrs on Elvira (a reasonably decent warm up by the time she got up to speed) to Rich’s apartment and we walked to the race start together holding our sandwiches and streetwear bags. There’s not a lot to say before the start. You just want to get going.
The organisers of Kalmar don’t give you a chance to warm up in the sea before the start but there’s a swimming spot around the corner so we went there for a quick dip in the sea. I wanted to check my wetsuit was on properly and to let some water into it. There’s no point realising I’ve got my head in the arm hole as the start horn goes off.
I dropped my white bag on my numbered hook at the streetwear tent on the way to the start and set off along the cobbles. I felt sick. There was no pressure at all on this event for me though as I’d missed a chunk of training with the fractured ribs and I still couldn’t take a deep breath now without a stabbing pain. Today was to get round, not crash and to try and love the race. As much as possible. Maybe in a type 2 way.
SWIM
We went to watch the pro-women set off. They had a deep water start (already in the sea) whereas we amateurs had to jump off a pontoon. And try and keep hold of our goggles. The cannon went to start the race and it was so loud, so echoey everyone jumped. The Americans ducked and went prostrate on the floor and everyone else jumped a foot off the ground. The pros didn’t go straight towards the buoys but aimed straight for the approx 10ft tall triangle buoy marking the turn. Worth knowing.
I did 1:19 in my last Ironman so seeded myself at 1:20 despite being around 1:30 in my training swims doing the distance. I don’t know why. It just felt right. Rich went to 1:30 so I knew I’d start about 10 mins ahead of him. He was likely to come past me fairly early at this event despite my earlier start. I told him - tongue in cheek - not to get used to beating me. He’d better not get used to it.
Ironman events usually get going with the AC/DC song Thunderstruck’ at the start of the swim. As soon as I hear it I get goosebumps, but at Kalmar as the clock ticked down, they played ‘Final Countdown’. Eeeek! This is it. GO TIME!
Ironman had to get 2,700 athletes in the water within 20 minutes. That’s a lot of people to manage. They set off groups of 7 athletes every 4 seconds. I’d been practising bombing and diving at the edge of the lake at home. I’d lost the goggles every time I’d dived. So of course I dived off the pontoon. I thought “What’s the worst that can happen?” and dived off. And the goggles stayed on.
Seriously if I was my own coach, I’d sack me.
The water was aerated and I had a little bit of space to swim in - I felt like I was being pulled along. It was light blue and bubbly and occasionally I’d see a small purple jellyfish. I couldn’t see the (enormous!) triangle marker buoy due to all the thrashing arms and hats in the way so followed the stream of swimmers out towards the sea. There was a weird acoustic effect and I kept hearing snatches of conversation right behind my left ear which I realised was the announcers voice bouncing off the water.
I picked up some feet about 500m in and they weren’t going too quickly but a nice pace so I stayed with them then lost them around the buoy. Picked them up again and then got barged by a big bloke who knocked me out of the way. Picked them up again towards the next turn but they had dropped their pace so struck out on my own. The sea felt smooth and calm and not too briney. It was lovely. Not what I’d expected. I was enjoying this.
I turned at the triangular buoy at the end and again at the next triangle and then we were all swimming diagonally towards the inside of the orange buoy. The part that had looked complicated was done and I hadn’t even been kicked in the face. Not once.
The turn into the port didn’t seem to take long and soon we were going alongside the quay with people cheering us on from the stone wall. It was so noisy and I’d see the faces when I went to take a breath from the left. We went through a narrow section and past the boats and out into a small harbour which was sewage tasting. Finally felt like I was in the Olympics … but not because I was a good swimmer, but because it was like swimming in the polluted Seine. I noticed I was mostly with female athletes at this point, who were smaller and not so thrashy which made me feel safer with my bad ribs.
Then we all cut right - avoiding the seaweed in the corner - towards the buoy near the island in the harbour. Someone started trying to swim over me and pushed my legs down several times. If they did it once, I’d ignore it but I was not here to be climbed like a ladder so I kicked out to get him to back off. This is a triathlon not some obstacle course event. I was also wary of people kicking me in the side and hitting my injured ribs … that would cock up the whole event for me.
Jellyfish like small purple spheres passed below me and around me. They didn’t sting, but hung in the water like small purple flowers.
Then I was past the final yellow turn buoy and onto the last straight, under the bridge and back towards the transition and bike. I was fairly close to the left bank which was sandy and cloudy and noticed the other swimmers seemed to be going quicker so I moved towards the middle of the channel and the current picked me up and swept me towards the bridge and the finish at the grey pontoon. I had to heave myself onto the plastic pontoon and it was quite difficult to balance so I grabbed the hand of a marshal. I’d made it! I hadn’t been kicked - I’d got through the swim!
Pushed my goggles up and ran across the road, under the gantry and into T1 to my bike bag. I wasn’t sure whether to check the time on my watch as it would either cheer me up or depress me but I decided to have a peek. 1:15 … much better than I’d dared to hope.
BIKE
I ran up to my bike bag on a bubble of high spirits and did a happy dance with the person next to me who also agreed the worst bit was over! Bike to do then out on the run, then tea and medals.
Wetsuit off and bundled into the bike bag, then helmet, socks, shoes and number belt on. I grabbed my salami and cheese baguette, shoved half in my back pocket and bundled the rest into my bike snack box.
My salt tablets were sellotaped inside my bike bentos box and the drinks bottles were already on. I grabbed the bike and ran out of the ‘bike out’ exit and pushed the bike past the mounting line and did a flying mount. Looked great until I completely lost the pedals … oh well! If you want excellence watch the pros, not my incompetent self who was fuelling on sweeties and salami.
The cyclists were quite bunched up at this point as we’d been sent into the swim so close together that we were all exiting together. We couldn’t do the 12 metre apart rule as no one would be able to leave transition … hopefully the marshals would be sensible and slow us time to spread out as we got past the roundabouts and onto open roads. No whistles were blown at me, which I took as a good sign.
Even better, I saw Simon and Lily as I headed out. The perfect boost!
We came up to the bridge across to Oland really quickly and the roads were soooooo smooth it really felt as though the bike was pedalling herself. Virtually no rolling resistance at all! I scoffed the first half of the bread roll going over the bridge. Mmm. Maybe salami and smoked cheese baguette really was the way forward, The bridge was about 4 miles long and arched over the water between mainland Sweden and the island of Oland. It felt like the entire road section was downhill. I was LOVING this.
The bike was doing 20-22mph and I was hardly putting any power through - about 100 watts. I went to take a salt tablet and realised that the bottom of the bentos box was swimming in water … as were the salt tablets and pick’n’mix. The salt tablets were melting which wasn’t ideal so scoffed one quick and tried to move them and the pick’n'mix out of the layer of water. The rain last night had obviously gotten in despite the bentos box usually being waterproof. Brilliant. I shoved a handful of soupy sweets into my mouth. Mmm. Like Barbie puke.
There were people with deckchairs out at the end of every drive cheering us and shouting “Heja! Heja! Heja!” So many people. It was wonderful! We got waves and cheers and every roundabout was crowded! There were even camper vans in the remote areas with chairs set out so people could cheer! The island was very flat and very beautiful. Lots of grasslands and no hedges. Occasional trees and red painted houses with white trim. Lots of windmills too. Small ones mostly, no higher than 20-30 feet and made of dark brown wood. They weren’t set flush to the ground but raised above it.
I tried to get a drinks bottle from the first aid station but messed it up and knocked it from the volunteers hand. I still had half a bottle of orange squash and carbs left so tried not to panic. The aid stations were approx every 20km so I grabbed one from the next aid station and the chap with the microphone said “Great drinks bottle catch from Sarah Booker!” Glad he didn’t see the earlier attempt! I raised the bottle as a cheers and realised they must have had a timing chip mat showing our names. I didn’t fumble another bottle in the ride which was a relief.
The ride on the island was approx 70 miles in a square shape. As we turned the second corner to do the long stretch along the back of the island, the headwind hit. What I had thought was no rolling resistance heading out on the bike had been a tailwind and I’d mistaken it for good road surfaces (which they were!) and feeling great. Ouch! This was soul sapping. I’d tried to maintain an average of 15 mins for my 5 mile splits which was 20mph but this knocked my average right down and I was doing 17-18 at some points despite the flatness of the course and the loveliness of the roads. I was torn between maintaining the power and ruining my legs - I still had 70 miles to go AND a marathon. I decided to go by feel and not stress over it but try to keep the average up if it didn’t stress the legs. I tucked onto the tri bars as much as possible as it made me a smaller area for the headwind to catch and just lay down on them as much as possible.
My arse was a bit sore. I’d layered on the chamois cream but had to keep trying to adjust the padding as it just wasn’t comfortable. There’s only so much you can really do though. I’d been fine all year on all the miles I’d done but the wet padding just wasn’t comfy today. I’d done loads of miles on this saddle and used the same effective chamois cream but apparently today was just a sore-arse day.
There were 3 hills on the course according to the elevation of the GPX file I’d looked at. Hills at mile 26, mile 31 and mile 51. Mile 26 was a very gradual slope and I didn’t realise it was supposed to be one of the hills until I saw someone out of the saddle and people cheering along the edges of the road. It was genuinely not a hill. The next one was a very short slightly twisty slope across a crossroads which was done in 15 seconds and I completely missed the one at mile 51. They were only hills if the course was totally flat which it was.
Due to the headwind it did feel slightly uphill in the way back to the bridge but not enough to make a huge difference. However every time I felt grumpy I ate some more of the bread roll as usually in a race when I get grumpy it’s because I’m not fuelling properly. This helped! I’d planned to eat the roll before I got off the island and then pick’n’mix as soon as I was off the bridge the second time as I’d only have 40 miles to go left.
I have the attention span of a gerbil and this isn’t good when I’m on the bike doing the same thing for a long period of time. I got distracted thinking about stuff and rode off the edge of the road and along the dirt on the side. Not good. Concentrate, Booker!
I was really looking forward to getting off the island now. The combination of a sore bum, headwind and being able to eat the pick’n’mix made me want a bit of a change. I’d also been expecting to be overtaken by Rich for quite some time. He had started about 10 mins behind me on the swim but I’d expected a similar swim time but a faster bike from him so thought he’d catch me up towards the latter part of the course. I hadn’t seen him yet but used the thought of him chasing me down as motivation to keep the legs turning.
I came up to some roundabouts and more people supporting and realised that I had done this section before and could see the bridge arching in the distance. The bridge looked like a vertical wall from this angle and the headwind really felt quite strong now. I got my head down and concentrated on grinding up and over and back into Kalmar. It really did feel like a grind. Come on Booker. Get it done.
As I passed down the last section of the bridge and turned the corner away from Kalmar, I had the lovely surprise of hearing “Sarah!” and “Mum!” being shouted and spotted my family cheering like mad things! Woo!
There had been a specific section on this roundabout in the event instructions and it had been very confusing. “Get into this lane from this way and that lane for another way” but despite that, it was easy as the lane for the finish was closed off so we were directed up towards the mainland and the 2nd part of the course which was shaped like a balloon on a string. It was an out and back for quite a long way, certainly further than I’d expected and we were seeing bikes going the other direction as race leaders were coming in. I kept an eye out for Rich on the double backs but didn’t see him. I assumed that meant he was close behind me.
There was a narrow twisty part that I recognised from the bike ride a few days before the event and this was a ‘no passing’ section. A young kid came past just before this section and then as we came into it he sat up and slowed down knowing no one was allowed to pass him. Selfish bloody idiot. After about half a mile of this we came to the end of the no passing and a left turn and the bike at the front braked which bunched the bikes together and I took the opportunity to pass him and the bloke in front of him. As they were bunched, they got a whistle blown at them from the marshal but didn’t see if they were given a penalty or not. The kid came past me in a big sulk muttering something shortly after. Yeah yeah kid. Shouldn’t you be in playschool or something?
This section was a lot choppier and had some gentle hills in it and it was more like the lanes of Warwickshire I was used to, with hedges and small villages and twists and turns. Not so good for average speed but good for being able to use different muscles than the long flat sections. I passed a really interesting church with an unusual bell tower that I’d have loved to have seen more of but it wasn’t really the time to stop and take photos.
Accidentally bit into a salt tablet when taking a bite of the roll and it spilled salt into my mouth. NOT a great taste and it spoiled the bite of the roll I was eating. Needed a fair amount of water to get the salty taste out of my mouth. Bleurgh! It was getting very warm though so was being careful to take the salt tablets … even the melty ones as it would keep my electrolytes up.
This section was over fairly quickly and it was back in the long straight bit and with a tailwind agin - finally!! I zipped back in towards Kalmar expecting Rich to overtake me any second but didn’t see him. I guess the time difference in the swim times made it quite a gap to make up.
I skidded to a halt at the dismount line … lesson learned: new cleats next time and I ran my bike back in. I checked my watch … sub-6 hour bike! Woo! I was so pleased I told the marshal! Who probably didn’t give a shit but he gave me a high five anyway,.
Helmet and bike shoes into the run bag and visor, sunglasses, trainers, gels and more salt tablets out. I also grabbed a little disposable water bottle. I always hand carry a plastic bottle in marathons - my little plastic security blanket. I also had some hydration tablets to pop into it.
RUN
Right. I was 2/3rds done. Just the run to go. I started my Garmin on run and headed back out into the sunshine. Garmin told me my training readiness was +2. I thought Garmin was on DR*GS.
And despite being covered in a mixtures of sweat, seawater, bogies, melted snacks and the remains of jellyfish that came along for the ride, I was cheered like a celebrity.
The route turns towards the finish line and onto the cobbled streets of Kalmar town centre. There’s a loop over a bridge and through a park onto a wooden walkway and through a dark tunnel into the ancient town walls full of disco music and some incredibly enthusiastic supporters. You then pop out into the sunshine by the cathedral and more importantly past the finish line and the red carpet which you’ll have to run past twice more before you’re allowed onto it.
An out and back section along a street and around a turn and back towards the city walls where you pass under a high stone arch and the swim start where you had dived into the harbour to start this journey today, HOURS ago. Along the harbour, following the last section of the swim course, around the outskirts of the town until you pop out onto the cycle path which runs parallel to a section of the bike route and under the road you cycled across to and from Oland island earlier in the day. You then follow …and follow … and follow the cycle path and there is a section where you see other runners going in the opposite direction … until you are allowed to briefly pass into the shady woods before there is more cycle path and some gravel paths.
The cycle path has chalk writing on it with people’s names and race numbers written on and it and encouraging messages “Keep running” and “Never give up “. There is a section on a road which is usually a quiet residential area but in this day it is transformed into the Neptunus support section with lots of spectators with signs saying ‘Power ups’ ‘PRESS HERE FOR POWER!”. However, the most magical part is the Neptunus Arch which has He-Man on it and a big red button which says “I HAVE THE POWER!” In He-Man’s voice when pressed. Although being the (usually) perfect height of 5’4, I couldn’t reach it. Luckily a tall runner pressed the button for me. It’s difficult to jump when you’ve just swum 3.8km and cycled 180km … and you’re vertically challenged.
There was a road section which was long and flat with speed bumps on it. The road was lined with families and small children who cheered every time we came down. Their energy was incredible. I tried to acknowledge everyone who called my name (my name was printed on my bib) but it was a long old day - but I heard you and was so thankful for you. You made so much difference and buoyed me along on a tide of good wishes. It was so, so appreciated.
There was a small hill on the double back just before the Neptunus cheer section so I walked from one house postbox to the next house postbox. I felt like I was balanced on the edge for my run and didn’t want to blow up so I allowed myself this section to walk. The sub-4 marathon I’d wanted was going to be too much of a push so I contented myself with running at sub-4 pace and walking the aid stations while I grabbed the lemon and watermelon and walking this 10 second hill. It broke up the running into manageable chunks. And gave me something to look forward to.
There was a lot of running along the cycle paths and some sections were done twice - out and back. I’d have travelled over one section 8 times by the end of the day by the marathon and for the cycle in. And some road sections 12 times including the bike course. It was a great route … but I’d definitely seen it enough by the end of the day.
The shady, wooded areas felt like a cool drink. The temps were 24*c in the shade and much warmer in the sun so being under the trees was such a relief. They were also pretty and winding paths. There were some sprinklers in the town which brought some brief but much appreciated coolness, if only for a moment.
We were running along some cycle paths by fields on the outward leg and I recognised this from the run I’d done in the week visiting the little islands - I must have been fairly close to where I was staying. The chalk names on the path were drawn on by supporters and lots of different names and race numbers. One I could have sworn said ‘Anus’ but I was a bit relieved when I looked again and saw it said ‘Linus’.
I saw the sulky kid from the bike as I came around a corner. He looked EVEN sulkier when I passed him on the run.
As the path curved around I realised I was on a familiar section and could see the long bridge to Oland which we’d cycled across earlier in the day (a million years ago) stretching across the blue sky and sea.
It’s such a boost seeing family. Particularly when things get tough. Simon and Lily were incredible and I saw them in the wooded section on the third run lap, just after I came off the first section of cycle path and into the trees. Simon said “Rich is just around the corner”. I was relieved to hear this as I’d been expecting to see him at least once before this and was starting to wonder whether he’d DNF or had a crash so it was good to hear we were just on different sections. I didn’t see him around the corner but a mile or so on. We passed and exchanged “Well done’s” and I was glad that he was still racing.
The course actually passed the end of the road I was staying on in Sjöliden. Saw Simon and Lily just up from here. It was like they’d managed to teleport. We were definitely being sent the long way round on this run route!
The course turns right onto another section of cycle path through an underpass and onto a section of cycle path that was (thankfully) unfamiliar. This took me into into a park full of families relaxing in the sunshine and cheering the us all on. There were groups lining the walkways and doing high waves as you came past! The atmosphere was incredible and the crowd support was awesome!
As seems to be a thing, what I REALLY fancied while running was a pint of lager shandy. I don’t know why but this is ALWAYS what I fancy during long hot runs. I don’t fancy it afterwards and I don’t drink it normally but it is what gets me through … the thought of a cold pint of shandy! It didn’t help that we passed several raucous bars with people drinking lovely cool drinks! One of them had a live band on which was playing ‘All The Small Things’ as I passed. Today felt like A Big Thing but I appreciated the tune.
They also played The Birdie Song on another lap as I passed. May have had a dance. If there’s no photographic evidence, it didn’t happen, right?
The fuelling plan was a gel every 5km (and carry an extra one as I have dropped one in the portaloo EVERY time I’ve done an Ironman. It’s like some kind of offering). I’d also decided to carry a water bottle (disposable one) and refill this rather than rely on cups of water at the aid stations. The aid stations had red watermelon and lemon slices. I’d expected them to be orange when I saw the peels but according to the marshal lemon settles the stomach! Had never heard this but I’ve always had a dodgy stomach during the Ironman run so decided to give it a try and had watermelon and lemon at each aid station. I also had some split hydration tablets to poke into the small mouth of the bottle for electrolytes and salt tablets too. I’d carried a water bottle during all of my marathons like a small plastic safety blanket and decided it wouldn’t hurt during this event and would be good for peace of mind during a warm event. The bottle was one I’d got from the plane so was a bit small and squashy - I ended up wearing a lot of the water as I drank. But it meant I didn’t mind ditching it before the finish line for recycling as it was a disposable one.
Three laps is tough. It feels a long way out to the far end and a long way back through the streets of Kalmar. But the first lap is exploratory (and always the first km is a good pace) and you settle into your pace during this lap. The second lap is familiar and you know where you’re going and the third lap is the final and a relief as you go past the now familiar landmarks for the last time.
Near the end of each lap you run a 3/4 loop around an athletics track and halfway around you get a band for that lap. The first lap you go to the left and get a red band, the second lap you go to the middle marshals and get a green band and the third and final lap you get a sky blue band which means you don’t have to bypass the finish funnel this time but can go down the red carpet to the applause of the crowds in the stands and finally pass under that Ironman finish gantry.
At mile 23 I did something I promised myself I would never do in an Ironman. I gambled on a fart. Genuinely thought I’d shit myself. That I’d broken the Nutella Barrier. Thought I’d spent hundreds of hours on training and thousands of pounds on an event to have my finish photos show me humiliated and sobbing, treading footprints of shit up the red carpet. Nipped into the next portaloo (not as close as I’d hoped) to find:
a) It HAD been just a fart despite how it felt and sounded.
b) That portaloos can smell even worse than I’d previously thought after baking in the sun for 10 hours.
c) If I play it safe, I might be able to save myself from THOSE finish line photos and from soiling the red finish carpet.
Heading out for my last lap, we saw the motorcycle marshals escorting the last cyclist in. She was going strong and smiling to the rapturous applause and shouts of support from the athletes running on the path alongside her. It was such a great event. Not only the crowds, but the athletes supporting each other and wishing good things for each other. We were all in our own race in our heads with our own goals but united in the course.
Had a chat to a lad when we were running along the cycle path and he asked if I’d had any issues on the bike. I said not really and he said he’d been whistled at and waved at a couple of times by the marshals but no red or yellow cards. I told him about the whistle but that I hadn’t seen a card although my big fear is I’ll get a penalty and not realise and get DQd for not stopping at a penalty tent and won’t realise until the end. it’s a relief in a tri to get out on the run as the pressure is off for getting a penalty or a DQ for someone else’s actions. Always in the back of my mind on the bike.
Had a bit of a chat with another chap on one of the winding sections. He was on lap 2 and I was on 3 - we’re both nearly done! A nice feeling.
Our names were printed on our race numbers which was brilliant as the supporters would shout out our names. Made it personal and even more encouraging and it was lovely. Felt like a proper little celebration to have people cheering me on and shouting out my name!
One of the best cheer sections was through the tunnel in the city walls. Apparently the ‘Tunnel of Love’! You run along the edge of the river before passing into a wooden bridge stretching across the river and into the tunnel open like a dark mouth. The tunnel is full of supporters and loud dance music and you get buoyed through on a cloud of enthusiasm.
My chalet host was supporting the event and had been tracking me on the app which I hadn’t realised. She was on the run course at the end of the road cheering me on - a welcome boost!
The final section was emotional. I picked up my 3rd band - the sky blue one - and just had to carry it over the river, through the tunnel of love and through the cobbled streets to the finish. I sped up but was conscious that I didn’t want to blow up - or throw up! - on the final section. I ditched my disposable water bottle at the aid station and flew.
The red carpet was incredible and lined with stadium style stands with people cheering you through. I closed up the gap to a chap in white but rather than overtaking him, I pulled back so he could have his space on the red carpet. This was a special time and the moment we’d all been dreaming of for months and months … not the time to rush it!!
I came up to the gantry and saw my time. I’d done it. I’d hoped for a sub-12 and I’d come in at 11:30.
Broken ribs be damned. Apparently the real trick to an Ironman PB is taking the pressure off. What a day. Thank you, Kalmar.
You were incredible.
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