by Jocelyn Bradley

I did not have a great day out there, but then I think that goes for most of us in the Bayside Triathlon Club crew. With a few very noteworthy exceptions, most of us failed to come close to doing the times we had previously done at the old IronMan Australia course in Forster or at IM Western Australia in Busselton, and the consensus seemed to be that IM Port Macquarie is an exceptionally tough course.

The swim was in a nicely protected lagoon but, as we went through a marina for quite a long section, we had to swim in a channel between the boats, which was very narrow, and, with 1600 people in the water together, made for a lot of bashing around. The worst part was probably on the return journey (done twice, as it was a two-lap course), when we had spent some time in open water and were suddenly funneled into this narrow channel again. Everyone knows the effect this has on traffic, which completely jams up, and it was the same, except, here, people just kept going. I had my goggles kicked off my face once and, twice, my watchstrap somehow pulled undone. It was not fun, but I managed a decent time for me of 64 min.

The cycle is three laps of 60km and only about 10-15km of each lap is dead flat. However, even this section wasn't all that easy, as it is very exposed and we had a moderate south-westerly wind blowing straight into us the whole way out. We did, at least, benefit from a tailwind on the way home, but it was no fun at all turning back into it at the end of each lap. The hilly sections came at the start and end of each lap. None of the hills were very long, but a few in the first set were pretty steep. There was one, in particular, which they had warned everyone was "challenging" and for which they recommended easier gearing than usual. I had indeed had a 25' chainring put on my bike, and even this was barely enough. By the second lap, it was an enormous struggle to get up it, and, on the third time, my legs started going into a cramping seizure. I noticed, when I descended it on the way out, that a lot of people had got off their bikes and were walking up, but at least I didn't have to resort to that. A big crowd of spectators had gathered there and were very vociferously urging everyone to keep going up it, clapping and cheering when they did. I can imagine that it was a very entertaining place to be stationed for the morning.

The next set of hills, which came at the end of the flat section, weren't as steep, but went through a forest off the main road, and the road surface was pretty bumpy. Mainly, it was just the number of hills that really got to one. I felt pretty good on the first two laps, but, by the third, I could feel my strength going, and these hills all began to feel like vertical slopes.

I would love to be able to blame my woes on the fact that I was riding a borrowed bike, my own one having been trashed in the collision I had had with a car two weeks before, but I can't. The bike shop that will be replacing my bike frame when one comes in from the U.S. lent me a lovely Kestrel Talon from their display bikes, and the owner did everything possible to ensure that I was comfortable and everything running smoothly. Indeed, it felt very good for the first couple of laps, and the problems I then encountered were only due to my own body letting me down, not the bike.

It was a big relief to get on to the run and the first half of each 21km lap is nice and flat. However, one then faces the same series of hills one had to go over on the bike. Luckily, we didn't get to the real monster, but these were bad enough (probably about 6 hills, which one goes over in both directions twice over the two laps.) I made it through the first half of the marathon pretty well, getting into a fairly good rhythm and overtaking a lot of people, but my legs had already started cramping whenever I tried to pick up my pace and, by the 25km mark, I knew I was going to be in trouble. I had several severe cramp attacks, but managed to relax and ease my legs out of them, so it was mainly the complete fatigue that was my problem.

I tried drinking different substances, eating fruit, and even a piece of vegemite sandwich in case I needed salt (yuk - what a foul substance - I nearly had to spit this out), but nothing seemed to revive me. I began to feel a bit dizzy each time I stopped at an aid station and, for the first time ever, I developed a weird tingling sensation, bordering on pins and needles, in my hands. I didn't know what this meant, but it did begin to worry me that something serious might be wrong.

I could keep trotting along for the flat section, but the hills were just too much, and I had to start walking on some of the steepest sections. In between, I was running, but at a real snail's pace. I could see everyone else I knew was also in trouble, and, unbelievably, I was gaining on a few of them. Of some consolation was seeing how many people were on their first lap when I was on my second.

It was the most unbelievable relief to cross the line, although my time of 11h24 was pretty disappointing. Paul (Lock) finished 2 minutes ahead of me, also having had a very tough day, even in the swim and cycle, which he usually enjoys. I was whisked off to the medical tent, where I promptly threw up (not much came out, but plenty of heaving) and was given an I. V. drip.

Paul was in a better state and, when I eventually was able to leave, was wonderfully helpful. So were his parents, who had driven us to the race start at 04h45 in the morning and cheered us on all day. They said they had a wonderful time and had made friends with a lot of the other supporters around them. I managed to eat a few chips, but couldn't get much down, although this did help me. We went back to our apartment to shower, and I opted to stay at home to rest, while Paul went back to the finishing chute to cheer the tailenders in.

The next day, we went to look at our results and I was further cheered up about my bad time by the fact that I had actually managed to come 4th out of 54 women in my age group. I was just 4 minutes behind the girl who came 3rd, and remembered her running past me in the final 3km. I had reflected then on how slowly she was running and how easy it should have been for me to pick up my pace and outrun her, yet I was evidently crawling along even slower and had nothing left in me to try to chase her. The winner was the same girl who had won my age group the previous year at Forster, and the fact that, then, she had done it in 10h12 and this year she had finished in 10h51 was pretty telling about how much tougher the course was and how most people had really suffered through it.

Having said all this, I have to add that the event was exceptionally well organised, the course very scenic, and, best of all, the whole of Port Macquarie had clearly got behind the IronMan. They managed to close completely a lot of the roads, despite some businesses having had to close for the day, and everyone one encountered seemed very excited and enthusiastic about the event. The drivers on the roads were always considerate, when we went out for short cycles during the week before, and the regional TV station had a lot of announcements about the event and the road closures. The support on the course was also tremendous, and the volunteers at the aid stations, as well as the medical personnel I encountered, were fantastic. The town is perfectly suited for the event as there is a lot of accommodation for all budgets, and a huge variety of restaurants and cafes, while, at the same time, it is small enough for the roads still to be quiet. It was a stunning location, with several lovely beaches, and the climate is apparently one of the most moderate and dependable in Australia. Indeed, we had only one day when it rained a bit, and most were a lovely sunny 26C. We were very lucky that race day was a couple of degrees cooler than this, at 24C, and the water was a very pleasant 22C.

Prospective IronManners are now faced with a clear choice in Australia - between the flat, fast (if sometimes windy and monotonous) roads of Busselton, where they can aim to set a PB; or facing the real demons in Port Macquarie, where a PB is unlikely, but perhaps the triumph over adversity is all the sweeter.