PB's Forster Diary 2004 by Paul Wilson
My IronMan 2005 Journey and Race Report by Di Astwood

PB's Forster Diary 2004

Monday to Wednesday:
Go body surfing every morning and sit on the beach every day. I could get used to this relaxed lifestyle. More athletes coming into town now.

I consider going for a real swim but decide that if I haven't done *any* swim training in the last three months then why should I start now. I have done no swimming (except in races) this year and even the races have only been short ones. My last decent swim was in August when I did the Half Ironman at Yeppoon. I am shi**ing myself over this one but console myself with the thought that at least we'll be able to wear wetsuits and that will get me through.

On Tuesday evening I went for a short run, about 6km. I covered the first part of the run course (the flat bit). I felt stuffed. No run training for about three weeks is also catching up with me. But at least I can walk during the run - no one cares if you do this. Well, I don't care.

Thursday:
Register for the event, and get my wrist band which I must wear for the next five days. It identifies the real athletes from those in town who just *think* they are good! I am even more nervous now. We spend a lot of time at home playing Uno and Scruples with our friends. I learn they have no scruples and I cannot play Uno. To avoid getting attacked by the mossies at night I lather on the Aerogard.

Marty and I make our annual pilgrimage to the supermarket to select a colour for our hair. Last year it was blonde/yellow. This year it is ... bright red. Fiona mixes up the chemical cocktail for us and applies it to our heads. Our hair looks ridiculous, but the red colouring on our scalp and parts of our faces looks downright ludicrous. Marty has an Indian-style red dot on his forehead.

Friday:
Go for a swim down at the race venue, Forster Keys. There are about 50-100 athletes down there at 7am. The water is warm, very warm, and with a wetsuit it is bearable (just). My friend Chris and I flail up and down the course, covering about 1km. Feels pretty easy. Thank god for wetsuits, they make life comfortable. I am now happy that I'll be able to complete the swim.

I check out my race band - bad news - my number has rubbed off. I go to the rego folks who check my photo id again before writing over my number in texta. I come back and tell Marty who notices the same thing has happened to his band. I get a phone call from the race directors wife, Glenda Baggs - "come to the race office immediately." She is angry and we are accused of cheating. When we tell her we think it is the Aerogard she says "don't use it" and admonishes us again. I don't think she believes us.

That night is the carbo party. The first thing they do is tell everyone not to use Aerogard as it causes the numbers to rub off. We are vindicated, but receive no apology. I stuff myself full with food. I feel sick, must not do that again!

Saturday (race day minus one):
Attend pre race briefing in the morning. They drop a bombshell on us. The water is so warm (above 25 degrees) that no wetsuits will be allowed. Aaargh! The swimmers applaud, the rest of us quietly shit ourselves. This is an 'interim' ruling and the final decision will be made on race morning. No one expects the decision to change. The weather forecast is for warm weather to continue. I pray for a sudden cold front to hover over the lake.

Go home and try to figure out what I will do. I come up with some new ideas for clothing management (cannot wear them under the wetsuit anymore) and I curse not having done any swim training.

That evening a group of us head out to the golf course section of the run and cover the entire footpath with chalk drawings and words of motivation.

Sunday (race day):
Awake at 3.30am and have a shower and then breakfast - baked beans on toast. Meet up with the others and we walk down to the bowling club to catch the bus to Forster Keys for the swim start. It is not a cool morning (quite warm by Forster standards) and I know that there will be no wetsuits today. We wait (and wait and wait ...) for the bus. Seven full ones go past before we get on one.

The first thing I do when I get off the bus is go to the toilet (damned baked beans) and then make my way to the transition zone to prepare my bike and other race gear. Not having to worry about a wetsuit it is quick and easy to get ready. As I make my way into the water I hear Mike Reilly, the race commentator, on the microphone. It is 6am and only 15 minutes to race start. The water is not cold - but it's not all that warm either. Surely they could have let us wear wetsuits?

I head up to the second group of swimmers (white caps) and wonder what it is going to be like when all the folks from the two groups behind swim over the top of me. Too bad, at least I don't need to swim as far as they do. The gun goes off and we are on our way.

With no 5mm thick piece of rubber for protection every bump, scratch and punch from other swimmers hurts more than it should. I swim a conservative (read: wide) line around the course and stay mostly out of trouble. I go around the first lap of the swim in 38 minutes. To my surprise the swim is not difficult at all and I feel comfortable and relaxed. The second lap is longer as I get a bit tired (surprise, surprise) and I exit the water in 1 hour 20 minutes. Everyone's swim times are 5-10% slower than normal and so I am rather pleased.

I farnarkle around in the transition tent for nearly seven minutes (just what the hell I was doing I can only wonder) before making my way out onto the road with my bike. I am surprised that there are still quite a few bikes left (nearly 400 as it would turn out). Crikey, can there possibly be 400 people worse at swimming than me??? Well, yes, and my mate Chris is one of them. About 1km into the ride he comes up beside me, says hello, then rides ahead.

For the next 50km we ride near to each other, taking turns with other riders as we move along in a pace group. Being paranoid about drafting I have a chat with a draft buster as he rides past me. "Am I ok?" He says "yes" as he has been watching us, "you are all ok." After the u-turn at the bottom of Coomba Road I lose Chris. I am not feeling bad, but he is going ok. I lose my other group companions too.

When I get back into town at 85km the cheers of the crowd are tremendous and it is very motivating. I see Fiona who is standing with Chris's wife and children. His eldest yells out "PB, you are last out of everyone." That is not motivating. Chris is some minutes ahead and I am stagnating. I pop the first of my Ibuprofen tablets and ride the next 30km at a comfortable pace. I make the u-turn at Sugar Creek (120km) and see that Chris is four minutes ahead. I resolve to catch him.

Five km down the road I need to stop for a pee. The portaloo is occupied and so me and another bloke stand behind it and pee against the large steel ... oh, shit, that's an electricity transformer! Thankfully our willies do not disappear in a puff of smoke. I have lost a minute or so but then back on the bike and resume the chase.

By Coomba Road u-turn 20km later Chris is only 1 minute ahead. When I catch him shortly afterwards it is clear he is having a very rough patch. This happens to everyone in an Ironman at some stage. I wish him well, but at the same time try to bust his chops and accelerate up the road. It feels good to get near to town and know that the bike is finished and I only have (oh no) a marathon ahead. The ride has taken about 6 hours 11 mins.


More stuffing around in transition and eventually I move out onto the run. It is quite warm by now. I shuffle over the Tuncurry bridge and make my way around to "Grandfather's Café" (aka the Rockpool aid station). Mmmm, vegemite bread and a new treat for this year ... fairy bread! I gobble as much as I can, wash it down with some coke and grab a lolly bag for afterwards. All they need here is a jumping castle and a pass-the-parcel game and I'd never leave.

I have my first walk break. Snap. The race photographer is there to record this moment of ignominy. Doh! A spectator encourages me to run. I tell them that on the first lap of the run I take walk breaks in between bursts of running. On the second lap of the run I know it will be running breaks between periods of walking. Back through the finish area, say hi to Fiona and stop for a photo.

The next 16km to complete the lap takes a long time. I am sure they've moved the turnaround point since I was here last year. And the hills are a bit steeper too. I see many of my friends heading in the other direction. They all look great and are having fantastic races. I curse them - and my lack of training. Go past the chalk drawings and words on the footpath. They are funny, but not as motivating as they seemed when we wrote them.

Coming back to complete the first lap and many people have already finished the whole race! The first 21km has taken me 2:15. I know the next half will be longer. It doesn't matter to me. I'm here for the long haul. After completing the Tuncurry loop for the final time I see Fiona and swap my sunglasses for regular glasses. It will be dark soon and I need to see where I am going.

I catch up to an American fellow, Scott Massey, and for the next 2 hours we walk/run together whilst talking about politics, sport, children, food, and the general state of life on earth - everything except this darn race we are in! The time passes quickly. Before long we are handed glow sticks, but we are now only 5km from home.

I need to make one final toilet stop. Unfortunately I smack my head on the doorway going in to the portaloo which almost knocks me out. I narrowly avoid falling head first into the cesspit. That would have been bad! I escape with my dignity intact and my bladder relieved. Scott and I head towards the finish.

As we approach the line we discuss whether we are going to cross together or apart. We decide that as we have come this far we might as well go the whole way as a team. We cross the line, arms aloft, together. A bond forged on the run course is sealed on the finish line. It is a tick under 12 hours 30 minutes since we began. More importantly, we can now stop!

I collect my medal and finisher's shirt, have some food and a massage. Fiona is waiting for me outside. With our other friends we cheer on those yet to finish (yes, there are a few) and once the race is ended we stand as a group under the finish line for a photo. We collect our bikes and ride home in the dark. I take some of Fiona's "magic drugs" and try to sleep.

Monday (race day plus one):
I wake to the sound of rain. How ironic, it is now raining quite hard. I can hardly walk. This is not surprising. When the rain stops we spend the day at the beach. My legs feel better immediately when in the water. When back on dry land they immediately feel worse again. Eat fish and chips, drink beer, then go to awards night. Eat more food, drink more beer. Feel crook from ingesting too much.

Tuesday to Thursday:
One day blends into the next. Body surfing, junk food, beer.

Friday and Saturday:
Drive home again. Saturday afternoon. Melbourne traffic. Reality bites!

My IronMan 2005 Journey and Race Report

I’ve broken this up in to different parts.  Read all parts if you want the entire info from qualifying for Ironman Oz 2005 through to hitting the finish line or you can skip the in between bits and go straight to Part 7 – Race Morning. 

It’s much more funnier if you read the whole thing - parts of it will seem just plain strange if you don’t……  may you find your Forest of Tranquillity within these readings…….

Part 1– Qualifying.

After having a year off from the whole Ironman scene I decided last year that it was time to revisit the Ironman way of living and have a crack at achieving another PB. 

Firstly, however, I needed to qualify for the race.  This was achieved in November 2004 during the Half Ironman in Shepparton.  Shepparton is the fruit and vege capital of Victoria and is located some 3 hours north west of Melbourne.  Thanks to my fantastic support crew of Tina, Karin and Ronnie I made it across the finish line.  Surprisingly enough not only did I qualify for the full distance Ironman but I also managed to achieve my first ever individual podium finish in a triathlon coming 2nd in my age group. Just for the record, for my effort I got:

1. a PB Half Ironman time
2. 4mths of intense training
3. no social life
4. a lot of ridiculously early mornings attending velodrome and swim squad training
5. a particularly memorable training session riding 180km to Portsea and back in a thunderstorm (and being pelted with hail stones)
6. a box of canned fruit, tomatoes and baked beans and spaghetti as my “trophy” for 2nd place – and no it didn’t fit in the trophy cabinet…..
7. an opportunity to swim 3.8km, cycle 180km and run 42.2km with 1600 of my close and personal friends on Sunday April 3rd 2005.

I would not have changed any of the above for all of the canned food products in Shepparton……

Part 2– The Journey to Forster/Tuncurry.

The pilgrimage to Forster/Tuncurry, some 4hours north of Sydney, commenced at the silly hour of 5:30am on Tuesday 29th March when Rob picked me up from Richmond train station.  With a car packed with two bikes, enough lycra clothing to fit out the entire Sydney mardi gras parade and sufficient food to ensure that we made it to at least the first petrol stop without feeling like we were going to collapse with hunger, we set about on our merry way. 

Quietly I think we were both wondering how the hell we were going to get through the next week living in each other’s pockets without wanting to kill each other.

Fortunately Rob had pre-organised the mid-drive overnight accommodation stop.  We stayed in the very plush Carlton Hotel in Parramatta, on Sydney’s outskirts.  After a short and easy run we went out for dinner at a fab Italian restaurant where we managed to polish off a bottle of red wine like two seasoned piss pots.  As Rob kindly put it had he left it up to me we would have spent the night in a flea ridden, skanky caravan park in Nowheresville eating microwaved pasta and risotto.

He was right.

Fortunately the red wine made the both of us sleep very soundly so after nearly 18hrs sleep between the two of us we headed on our way for the final 4hr drive north to Forster/Tuncurry on the Wednesday morning.  Enroute we stopped for a loo stop at a quaint little reserve that was alongside the Forest of Tranquillity.  I kid you not there REALLY is a place called this north of Sydney.  This prompted us to spend the rest of the lead up to the race talking like a couple of hippies.  We repeated the chant of “Breathe in, breathe out, go to the Forest of Tranquillity” many a time up until 6:25am on Sunday 3rd April.  Half serious and half taking the p*ss.

2002 was the last time that I raced Ironman Australia in Forster/Tuncurry.  I watched the race back in 2003 but when Brad and Vicky picked me up from the train station that year I’d been awake for nearly 48hrs.  After doing day and night shift and then travelling for over 8hrs to get there to support everyone I was in no state to appreciate the butterflies you get in your stomach when you finally see the sign that says “Welcome to Forster/Tuncurry”.  I openly confessed to Rob when we drove past that sign that I felt nervous at that particular point.

We found our way to our groovy little home for the next week.  Right on the run course, right on the beach.  Far enough away from Forster to be out of the mayhem but not that far that you felt out of touch with everything that was going on. 

Part 4A – The organising stuff and race day lead up.  Starting to get semi-serious now.

Thursday and Friday was filled up with the usual Ironman stuff.  Registration, hanging out and chatting with everyone, catching up with training buddies, drinking copious amounts of coffee, eating out, swimming, a few easy training sessions and finding out if your name was displayed in the window of the local traders.  It is customary in Forster/Tuncurry for the locals to show their support for the athletes by displaying a poster in their shop front displaying your name.  In return the athletes are meant to go in and introduce themselves.  “Beach Girl” sponsored me.  Quietly I was grateful, as it’d be really awful to have been sponsored by a local business such as “Tims Tattoo Parlour” or “Barbs Brothel”………

We also had the Friday night carbo load party.  A night where all the athletes come together and gorge themselves stupid with pasta and salads and get the big Ironman pump up from “The Voice of Ironman – Mike Reilly”.

Part 4B – The Ditch

Rob and Jason and I took the short cut through the golf course to get to the carbo load party.  It seemed kind of logical, despite the darkness, to reduce our walking distance by 10mins.  Conserving energy and all that stuff!  It also seemed logical to take the same route on the way back.  Well it ALMOST seemed logical……  due to the darkness of the golf course on the way back (it was after 9pm!) we were taking extra special caution on the return journey. A twisted ankle a couple of days out from Ironman due to some dodgy footing in the middle of a golf course at night would really ruin many hard months of preparation. 

With Jason by my side I could do no wrong.  That theory was blown right out the window a few seconds later …..  We came upon what looked like an indent in the ground.  I carefully put my left foot out to test what I thought would be a small patch of moist ground and thought that Jason was also doing the same.  He was by my side like a true gentleman letting me hold on to his arm for security.  As it turns out he was actually doing a leap and jump and really didn’t give a toss about where I was going!  Therefore while he jumped and let go of me I carefully stepped and slid knee deep in to a darkened ditch full of mud and water and goodness knows what else.  I realised at that moment that chivalry was well and truly dead.  As I lay, face up, at an angle, semi-submerged on the banks of ditch, I gazed in front of me across to see Jason nearly weeing his pants laughing.  Behind me I could make out the distinct sound of Rob trying to contain his own hysterical outbursts.  In between laughter Rob made some half-hearted, pathetic attempt to drag me out by the shoulders and then resumed his chortling.  Once he contained himself he somehow decided that it would be better off to throw me across the ditch and commenced to endeavour to pick me up “Dwarf Throwing” style to achieve this.  I opted to jump across.  Pricks.  Next time I’ll save myself thank you very much! 

Fortunately when I relayed this story to Ronnie that night over the phone his first concern was for my wellbeing and that I hadn’t injured myself!  Good husband shmusband.

Part 5 – Gear check-in and pre-race briefing.  Getting more serious now.

Saturday morning we had the obligatory pre-race briefing.  This is where we basically get told what we should/should not and can/cannot do on race day.  The usual stuff:  no drafting, where the penalty boxes are located, first aid information, aid station information and (this is a direct quote) “NO BLATANT URINATION ON THE COURSE”.  As I stated to those around me “they are my pants and I’ll piss them if I want to thank you very much”. 

Unlike other triathlons your bike and the bike and run gear that you wear and require on race day has to be checked in on the Saturday.  Also any nutritional requirements also have to be included in these bags.  This means that within your race kit you are allocated three bags different coloured bags.  One you put all of your bike gear in, the other you put your run gear in and the final one is for your casual gear at the end of the race.  This also means that you have to be organised and know exactly what you will need and when. 

I opted to place my nutritional requirements (gel flasks filled with carbo shots and high five bar pre-cut in to pieces) in a separate plastic bag.  I was glad later on that I had decided to do this as my gel flask had leaked and covered my High Five Bar with sticky gel.  Had I not done this I would have worn Carbo Shot gel all day long on my cycling top and knicks.

Ronnie had arrived from Melbourne so he carried all of my gear in the car to the gear check in while I rode there.  Oddly enough I still didn’t have the jitters.  During the previous two Ironman races this process sets me up to be an uptight pain in the butt wondering if I have packed everything I needed and questioning my pre-race bag packing routine.  Not this time.  I was in the Forest of Tranquillity baby.

Part 6 – The final supper

Rachel and Michelle had flown up on Saturday morning to watch the race.  It was great having someone there who had been through an Ironman but wasn’t racing, as part of the support network.  It is worth mentioning that both Rachel and Michelle already had a lot on their plates so to come up and support everyone for the race was appreciated by all. 

Rachel is in the midst of training for the Great Ocean Road marathon.  Her Saturday involved getting up at some silly hour, picking up Michelle at 6am, driving to the airport, flying to Newcastle and then driving a further 2hrs to Forster where she unpacked her car and then did a 2 ¾ hr training run.  Michelle is 6mths pregnant and had spent the previous day doing support crew for her husband while he and 3 other team mates did the Oxfam 100km Trailwalker race (2nd team across the finishline!), she jumped in the car with Rachel to commence the journey to NSW at 6am.  Thanks chicks.

Ronnie, Rachel, Rob and I sat down to a very substantial pre-race pasta pig-out that night before we all put our heads down for an early night.

Part 7 – Race morning

I awoke before the alarm.  The body clock seemed to know that it was time to wake up.  Yet again I was happy with the fact that I felt relaxed.

The four of us piled in to the car.  Rob and I carried our plastic bags containing our wetsuits, goggles and our specially coloured swim caps identifying our position in the swim start.  The swim is a self-seeded start.  When you fill out the application form to enter the Ironman they ask for approximate times for the swim, bike and run.  Based on the swim time you give you are allocated an area, mark by coloured buoys, where you start your swim.  I was an orange cap, in front of me  were the white caps and behind me were the yellow caps.  As everyone starts the swim at the same time (with the exception of the pro’s who this year had a 10mins head start) it is logical to have a self seeded swim start to avoid slower swimmers getting trampled by the faster ones – that’s the theory anyway.

In transition I went through my routine of checking over my gear. Rachel and Ronnie were leaning over the barrier watching me go through this routine.  Rachel calmly went over everything that I needed to go over.  Then she turned me around and gave me a shoulder rub and made me relay my nutrition plan for the entire race along with all the heart rates that I was going to stick to.  She had me recite my race plan and what I would do if I started to vomit or got an upset stomach during the race. I reckon everyone should have a “Rachel” with them on Ironman race morning.  I had the final hugs with Ronnie, Michelle, Rachel and Cam and headed off to find Rob.

It seemed only fitting that Rob and I take the stroll to the swim start together.  He was the person who told me after his first Ironman that I just had to get in the water and learn how to swim so I could do one of these strange Ironman race things.  Now here we were again……..  Calm, breathing in and breathing out and finding our happy, hippy like Forest of Tranquillity.

Part 8 – The start

As promised to Rachel I looked at my heart rate as the helicopter was flying overhead and the music was blaring through the speaker system signifying that the race was about to commence.  103 BPM – that was a good indication that I was ready for this.  I didn’t actually hear a thing to signify that the clock had started.  The next thing I knew there was a sea of people splashing about trying to do a vague impression of a group of swimmers.  We were all fighting for our own space so we could move forward. 

For me this is the worst part of the swim.  The only reason I hadn’t swam until 5 years ago was because I was scared senseless of putting my face under water.  Even up until this season the whole concept of being around a group of people swimming in open water genuinely freaked me out.  I reckon I drowned in a previous life….  As part of my training I forced myself to do the 4km open water swim called the Pier to Perignon (from Sorrento to Portsea).  My theory was to swim longer than the distance among 600 others (at the start anyway) – if I could overcome this then I’d get through the Ironman swim.  It worked.

From the starting point to the first turn around buoy it was like swimming in a washing machine but at least I was getting dragged along with the flow of swimmers.  I was starting to get jacked with the fight for clear water so I picked up the pace in an effort to find one set of feet to sit on and some clear water. I was also a bit peeved as I was starting to get swallowed up by yellow caps - that meant that I was being overtaken by swimmers behind me!  I caught up to a sea of orange caps before the turn around buoy on the first lap and then started to notice that I was in the thick of the white caps – now I was starting to catch up with the swimmers ahead of me.  By this time I had hit another wall of swimmers.  A quick look at the watch and I could see that I was on 33mins just before the halfway mark – well and truly on target!  For the next 1.9km I played catch up.  I would find a set of feet, sit on them for a few minutes and then ditch them for a faster pair as they came along.  This seemed to work a treat.

I came out of the water in 1:10hr.  A 5mins PB and 2mins ahead of my goal time of 1:12hr!  The swim, even though a small component of the entire day was the big thing for me to get through it in a PB time put me in a positive frame of mind for the rest of the day.

In to transition for a quick gear change.  Out of the wetsuit and in to the cycling gear.  Sarah VT and I exchanged smiles in the tent and I was fortunate enough to catch a eyeful of Sue MacLeavys bare bum staring at me – after slapping her butt I ran out towards my bike.  (Sue has commented since that she isn’t sure if she is happy with me recognising her from that particular angle!).  Ronnie and Rachel were standing waiting to scream words of encouragement at me.  I remember blurting something about my swim time to them as I lifted my bike off of the rack.

Part 9 – A great day for a bike ride.

The adrenalin was pumping as the crowd screamed out.  I heard a few voices scream out my name but couldn’t make out who they were.  I did a quick check of the heart rate after I hit the roundabout and headed up the straight and I realised that I was over my max bike heart rate.  With the HR sitting in the mid 150’s I knew that if I maintained this I would blow.  So remembering what I’d discussed with Coach and relayed to Rachel earlier that morning - I pulled it back to 140-145.  I was saving the high 140’s for the hills and then had to save anything beyond that for the run.

It was starting to warm up – the weather forecast stated that it would get in to the high 20’s on race day – so I started knocking back the fluid before I started to feel thirsty.  Heading out of the thick of the crowd I made my way in to the lonely stretch towards the first bike turnaround.  With 20km under my belt I heard a voice call out my name as I passed a cyclist.  Sara W and I train with the same coach so it was good to see a familiar face out on the course.  We played leapfrog for the next 50km or so which was a good way to lift the spirits with the odd witty comment as we passed each other. 

You look for little things to break up the ride and the run.  Things that will take your mind off of the fact that you are out there covering such huge distances.  I knew that Brad was at one of the bike aid stations so I would count down the km’s until I saw him.  By using him as a marker point as well as the Coomba Rd turn around and the crowd back in Forster it made the ride go much quicker.  By thinking about this, counting down to the next time I had to eat or drink as well as monitoring my heart rate the 180km seemed to fly by.  The heat was really starting to kick in by the second lap.  I’d gone through town and seen Vicky, the Taylormade Crew and then Tedde Squad Crew all cheering.  Only 90km to go.

Out of town and only a few km until I saw Brad.  He was brilliant to have out there.  I’m sure that a few people missed their drinks while he jumped up and down at the aid station screaming at me!  I briefly caught Rob’s eye out on the course and we managed a half a smile at each other.  Coming back in to town the wind started to pick up slightly but I was still holding my heart rate nice and steady.  As I pulled in to transition I saw Ronnie standing there looking rather pleased.  I screamed something about “Two PBs down and one two go” and did a quick jump off the bike to the transition tent. 

Bike split 6:04hrs.  Previous time was 6:27hrs and the goal was 6:15hrs. 

Part 10 – Might as well go for a run now.

By now I was feeling pretty chuffed with how things were going.  In to the transition tent to freshen up for a couple of minutes and then out of there again.

As I tore out of the transition tent and came around the corner I could see Coach waving her arms at me.  I have no idea what I actually said to her – in fact I think I just screamed with glee.  All I can recall is Julie waving her arms and frantically saying “Slow down”!  Not being one to argue with her (she scares me) I did just that – again!  Target heart rate was to build from 78% of max HR or 152 BPM and as I came out of the tent screaming like a mad woman I was sitting on about 158 or 81% max HR.  By the time I hit the other side of the bridge I was comfortably sitting on 78%.

Mother Nature had decided that it was time to crank up the temperature and it was about 30 degrees by now.  I was starting to appreciate the affect a cup of ice under the running cap can have – bliss.

As I headed out down Head St past our accommodation on the run course I could see Michelle, Cam, Rachel and Ronnie all sitting there patiently.  Michelle pulled herself and Mini Moons out of the chair so she could join the other three as they all cheered me on. 

Heading towards the golf course I recalled how a few days earlier after a training run I had casually mentioned to Rob that the hills weren’t as bad as I remembered them.  Then I hit them during the race and it felt like I was running Mt Dandenong! 

Out to the Cape Hawke turn around and I was still feeling pretty good. The HR was still around 78% and I was about to hit the second lot of hills on the way back in to town. 

Julie appeared from nowhere on her bike and offered words of encouragement.  I mentioned that my HR was still around 78% and she told me to keep it there as I would need my reserves later on.  She also commented that I was “having a blinder” which pleased me somewhat.  She rode off and proudly announced out aloud that “the girls were her stars today”.  I can’t begin to imagine what it is like as a coach to be on the sidelines of a race like Ironman watching your athletes race.  I guess it must also be a mix of emotions for her, as coach, to watch everyone go through all the highs and lows that a race such as Ironman throws at you.  What a woman.

Heading back past our accommodation again and the cheer squad of Ronnie, Rachel, Cam and Michelle carrying Mini Moons was in full force.  I was still in good spirits and asked Ronnie if he would like a shag.  He stood with his mouth agape with a look that indicated that he was partly horrified that I would ask such a thing in public and part happiness as he knew my sicko sense of humour was still intact! 

Coming back through town and down the chute to the half way mark is a great feeling.  The crowd around this time starts to become a mass of screaming people with the music pumping from the speakers and Mike Reilly announcing “You are an Ironman” as weary athletes cross the finish line.  As I passed through there was a mixture of finishers, people at the half way mark on the marathon and others starting their marathon run.

Part 11- This is kind of starting to hurt now

As I hit the half way mark of the run I was glad to see the orange scrunchies being handed out.  For the non-triathletes reading this – the orange scrunchies are given to athletes to place on their arms after they have completed their first lap of the run course.  The run course is 2 laps of a 21.1km loop.  The scrunchies are like gold and indicate that you are almost on the home straight.  I happily took mine and at the same time that I did I saw Mickle Pickle (Michael Abraham) and Drewby (Andrew Purton) running together towards me.  I screamed at them and waved my scrunchie.  I think that they got my last smile and scream for the day as after I saw them I hit the bridge and the legs started to scream back at me.  This was where it was going to start to really hurt.  Another turn around at the rock pool and then back through the crowds at Forster and off to revisit the hills around the golf course.  I saw Rob on the home straight with only 2-3km to go.  Looking at my watch I knew that he was on target for a PB.  He was looking like a man on a mission.  After dealing with a couple of nasty viruses leading up to his previous 3 big races I was relieved to know that he was going to have a good race and achieve a personal best time.

Back towards the Cape Hawke turn around to see Julie, Anna and Guy parked on the side of the road revving everyone up.  Julie stated the obvious when she told me that it was going to hurt now and that I had to dig deep.  It was looking like I would break 11:15hrs at this stage but my main concern was to have a 4hr marathon. 

Just before the left turn in to the Cape Hawke turn around I past someone and heard a familiar voice call my name.  It was Dennis.  I must’ve sounded surprised to see him as all I could manage was one four letter expletive!.  By this stage I wasn’t feeling sociable at all.  I opted for a quick loo stop at Cape Hawke turn around (I’ll have to remember to lock the door next time as Dennis just happened to be the one person on the whole course who wanted the same toilet that I was on!).

I’m quite sure someone increased the gradient on the hills heading back through town.  I was now starting to remember Julie’s wise words when I was concerned about my HR sitting on 78% for the first half of the marathon.  I did need the little reserves I had for the finish.  My nutrition had been spot on, I was well hydrated but the inevitable pain seeping through my quads was eating slowly at me.  Only 4km to go.  I’d like to say that I can recall how long the final 4km took but by now I had decided not to look at the time and just concentrate on pushing myself through to the finish without hitting the wall.  Comments from spectators indicated that I was looking strong on the run, which was another aim of mine.  At no stage did I want to look like I was feeling weak and broken.

Up Head St and past our accommodation which by now looked incredibly baron with the absence of my support crew out the front!  I hit the final hill of the course leading up in to the finishing chute.  Sitting on the side of the hill was Anthony Goss and some of his mates screaming out what I can only remember to be “Go Postie!”. 

Part 12 – I’d really like a sit down and a cuppa tea

Towards the end of the race the body was feeling completely hammered, every muscle was aching but nothing was going to erase the smile from my face as I entered the finish chute. 

Run time 4:04:04 (includes transition time).  Previous time 4:15.

As I hit the blue carpet the clock ticked over to 11:19:02 and I decide to quite simply stop and walk.  Mission accomplished.  I’d well and truly got my PB and now it was time to walk and enjoy the crowd and enjoy the finish.

So that was how I finished my race.  I stopped about 10 metres before the finish line and walked to the finish line high fiving a few people along the way.  As I walked across the finish line the clocked read 11:19:36hrs – I’m glad I took the extra 34secs to stop and really enjoy the moment.  It’s what I like to call a “I am here moment” - where you take in the very moment you are in and put it in the memory bank for safekeeping.

And then I had a jolly good laugh and asked the people catchers for a beer (just for the record they opted to give me an electrolyte drink instead……)

Summary of my times and placings:

Epilogue
As an Ironman we all go through literally hundreds of hours of swimming, cycling and running training.  We wake at 5.30am during the weekdays for swim squad and velodrome training and wake equally as early during the weekend for brick sessions and long rides.  We try to remember what a sleep in was like.  Some of us prefer to hang around other athletes during this time as our non-triathlon mates just don’t get it.  Friday and Saturday nights we prefer to fall asleep at 8:30pm as we are too tired to do anything else and what’s the point as we have to ride for 4-6hrs the next morning anyway? 

Our house ended up looking like a bomb had hit it as I would walk in the door from one training session to unpack and then pack my bag again for the next mornings training session.  The swimming goggles hang permanently from the bath taps and the wetsuit has made its home hanging either over the shower head when it’s wet or the back of the bathroom door when it’s dry.  I find it ironic that while my car is 12mths overdue for a service my bike has visited the bike shop for some TLC at least 4 times in the last year.  Near the front door my cycling shoes and running shoes have etched a permanent indentation in the carpet.  At the back door I have a plastic box full of all of my cycling gear and the washing basket is constantly full of dirty training gear.  The spare room has a constantly revolving flow of clean washing that never gets folded or put away.  The list of  “things that I must do after I finish Ironman” becomes longer and longer.  My training program has it’s own fridge magnet on the front of the fridge and Ronnie has learnt to refer to it when making plans that don’t involve Ironman.

A majority of us know every water stop and toilet stop within a 20km radius of home and where there aren’t official toilet stops we’ve created our own “special secret place”.  We think nothing of grabbing handfuls of vaseline and lathering up our nether regions in public places and in front of training buddies.  We openly discuss bodily functions with our training buddies in a way that would make the average person either blush or vomit.

We scrutinise the food that goes in our mouths and read the labels on almost everything to analyse the fat and carbohydrate content.  Some of us have cars that look like the inside of a Coles Supermarket as we don’t want to be caught short without food pre and post training sessions.  Gatorade and Powerade become the drinks of choice.  When we go to the loo we check to make sure that our wee is clear so we know that we are properly hydrated.  We end up knowing our body so well that the slightest variation in toilet habits or resting heart rate causes us to be concerned as we might be forced to miss a session.  We accept it as normal that our way of eating, sleeping, dressing and socialising revolves around Ironman and it becomes not a sport but a way of life, living and thinking.

I can’t speak for anyone else but quite frankly I think it’s all worth it.