THE STORY OF MY FIRST TRIATHLON: 2008 GOLD COAST HALF IRONMAN
The last time I tackled a triathlon was last year's GC Half Ironman, which was my first triathlon. The 2009 GC Half Ironman in 2 weeks will be my second attempt and hopefully a better performance. This is the story from my first crack at it last year.Well my first triathlon, the Gold Coast Half Ironman turned out to be almost like another adventure race. An experience I will never forget. None the less an amazing experience that I highly recommend. I know I'm never going to be fast at these things, I just love being part of the action.
Being not at all keen on spending time following a black line up and down the pool, I have done bugger all swimming over the past 20 years. Keen to do a triathlon though, 6 weeks prior to the 2008 Gold Coast Half Ironman, I suddenly had a great idea. I thought if I could just manage to get through the 1.9km swim, then I could probably grind my way through the 90km ride and 21km run to the finish line.
So I told Therese that on Sunday I was going down to Evandale to attempt the distance and if I was successful I would come straight home and enter the race. Now I never was a great swimmer anyway and figured I needed all the help I could get, a call to my mate James and all of a sudden I had a loan of a wetsuit. I managed to resist the temptation of packing some flippers also. Off I went for my test swim, Therese came along to help me get into the suit and give moral support.
After a ten minute mission getting the suit on, I nervously ventured into the water. The plan was that if I could swim 6 laps of Evandale (1800m) in less than 45 minutes I would be good to enter the Gold Coast Half Ironman. The smart arse pros that I am lucky enough to be able to ride with on Saturdays were saying "you will do it easy Marky". Deep down I really had no idea if I could pull it off. I suspected that without the wetsuit I would be no chance and was just hoping that it would give me the extra buoyancy that I needed.
Off I went, thrashing across Evandale, struggling for breath. After the first 150m I was already in trouble. At the 300m mark I thought I had no chance but was determined to hang in there as I was still inside my goal time. I knew I really wanted to do this triathlon and figured even if the swim almost killed me, once I was on the bike I would be happy (prophetic thoughts they turned out to be).
Anyway somewhere in the next 150m I realised that, with the wetsuit on, I was not going to sink. I realised that I hardly needed to kick my legs at all, thing was great, I love this wetsuit! From then on I was able to relax and enjoy myself. I was then able to concentrate on my technique (ok stop laughing now) and I started to feel sleek, smooth, a swimming machine. I imagined that I looked like the Thorpedo, cruising gracefully through the water. Unfortunately the reality was that I actually looked more like a magpie stuck in an oil slick.
Six laps of Evandale, 1800m in 42 minutes! Great stuff, I am in. I went home and entered and then proceeded to tell everyone I knew, to ensure that I'd follow through with it. I thought "the race is six weeks away yet, if I can get in one swim per week then I could improve heaps in that time". As it turned out I only managed to get one more swim in before the big day.
I went to work the next day and told a colleague what I had done and to my surprise he exclaimed "what, you swam in Evandale? You're bloody mad, there's sharks in there". I refused to believe him but he insisted that "they pulled a couple of 2m bull sharks out of there a couple of years ago".
A few weeks later I got back to Evandale for what turned out to be my only other swim. Intellectually I knew there were no sharks in Evandale, "people swim there everyday" I would say to convince myself. Do you think I could get sharks out of my mind that whole swim. I don't really remember much about that swim because I spent the whole time waiting for something to come up from the deep and sink its jaws into my torso. Over that 40 minutes my imagination went wild, visions of myself struggling to shore with half my guts hanging out or my calf muscle flapping around. In the end, I survived that swim with the sharks and not surprisingly took about four minutes off my previous time.
Being so busy with work in the lead up to my big triathlon debut, opportunities to train were very scarce. One ride and one or two runs per week was all I was prepared to give myself time for. Fortunately my riding buddies ensured that every Saturday I was taken to hell and back. My heart rate was up around 170 bpm for 5 or 6 hours each time, so the small amount of training I did was certainly high in quality.
In the lead up to the race (I use the term race loosely as in my case it is probably better described as a mission) my good friends Rebekah and James helped me turn my bike into a weapon. I had tri-spoke carbon wheels and carbon aero bars. I felt like my bike had been designed by the Air Force. I had to give this thing a test drive so off I went on the Friday afternoon, 2 days before the race, for a ride up the spit. I could feel myself going up there faster than ever before, sooooooo excited I could barely contain myself.
After the ride, feeling full of beans, I decided to go for a little 5 or 6km run. I had just been telling some people that I hadn't had an injury for years, what a dumb thing to say at this point. I was feeling invincible and picked up the pace toward the end of the run, you can guess what happened next. For the first time in my life, bang, I felt sudden intense pain in the area of my lower medial hamstring and instantly thought "this is how I reckon a hamstring strain would feel, that's weird I never thought I would run fast enough to over-stress my hamstring". I hobbled home, not even able to walk properly and promptly went about trying to convince myself that I would wake up the next morning feeling great. Unfortunately that evening the pain worsened, I knew I was in trouble.
The next morning I got out if bed and the moment I put my foot to the floor I realised that things hadn't improved. I decided to set the bike up on the wind trainer and see if I could pedal. No problem. As I pedaled my pain eased and after about an hour on the wind trainer I felt pretty good. At least then I should be able to get through the swim and the ride and just hope for the best in the run.
One thing was playing on my mind though. That run the day before was the first time I had ever ran after riding the bike. Prior to this, week after week Rebekah kept telling me that I needed to go for a run off the bike. Now that's easy for her to say, but after 5 hours of riding with Rebekah Keat, Cameron Watt and James Parker, normal people can't just go for a run thank you very much. After those rides all I could ever think about was a beer, a hamburger and an afternoon on the couch. Besides, having done some adventure races, I felt that I needed to leave some surprises for the big day.
We had to check our bikes in that day before the race. So off I went, not knowing whether I would even be able to start my first triathlon. James was there to walk me through the check-in process and help me with a few last minute bike issues. Walking around the transition area, my hamstring pain increased dramatically. I started to seriously doubt whether I was going to be able to finish this thing. What could I do??? I just had to do this. I had been so excited about it. Bugger!
My last chance was to pick up some analgesia on the way home and spend the evening on the couch with some ice. I cooked up a big pasta and promptly got horizontal. Still really excited about the prospect of my first triathlon, in between stints on the couch, I went about my normal pre-marathon ritual of preparing my kit for the next day. Though, unfortunately I had to leave out my usual test-run around the house with my kit on.
The next morning, race day, I woke up just before 3am. Hamstring wasn't too bad, maybe I would be fine. Managed to get around the unit much easier than the night before. Still very cautious though, not so deluded to think that the problem had magically gone away. Then as we walked to the car back came the pain. This was going to be an interesting day.
On the way from the car to the transition area the pain worsened, but I had come too far to turn back now. I will at least finish the swim and the bike, then I can walk the 21km if necessary. The transition area was buzzing. Everyone preparing their little patch of area, pumping up tyres, putting their bike shoes into the cleats....... Bike shoes! Oh NO! F#*#*#*#*#*!!! NO BIKE SHOES! But I thought I was so well prepared. Bloody idiot. My heart rate shot up to race pace instantly, I was an emotional whitewash. Wanting to keep this turn of events from becoming public, I calmly hobbled over to Therese, leaned over the fence and just quietly said "I forgot my shoes". I will never forget the look of shock. Once she got her jaw off the ground, she had the presence of mind to go in search of a pair.
While I am there thinking maybe this is a blessing in disguise, Therese came back with the good news that she had found a solution. She went to get her wallet and I went to the tent that was selling bike shoes. This gave me 5 minutes or so to give my hammy a test, so I started a little jog. After about 30m I thought no way, I have got no chance here. I had a bit of time so I started altering my running gait to see if I could come up with something that wouldn't stress my hammy too much. I shortened my stride and went from landing on my forefoot to landing on a completely flat foot. It worked! The pain became less and less the more I did it. YOU BEAUTY!
This was such a special day. I was doing my first triathlon and my beloved Sea Eagles were playing in the Grand Final. This day could either be very good or very bad. Finally after a terrible start, things were starting to go my way. I reckon my Pops Alf, a Manly original, was pretty excited up there himself and gave me plenty of help from above throughout this day. The atmosphere at the swim start was awesome, buzzing with excitement, something I highly recommend being a part of.
For me the swim was more like a test of survival than anything. You could have been excused for thinking I had lead weights in my wetsuit or I was being dragged under by a shark. I'm sure the rescue crew in the water must have been having bets as to whether I would eventually need rescuing or not. Staying in a straight line was definitely a problem and I reckon I turned that 1.9km swim into 2.5km at least. I remember at one point seeing a big Riviera moored up ahead and off to the left some way, and then a while later, having thought I was well past it, I looked up to find I was about to swim straight into the back of it. Starting in an earlier wave, I also had wave after wave of people swimming over the top of me. This was obviously made much worse by the way I was zig-zagging my way through the course.
I finally finished the swim and struggled up the ramp to transition. The last time I was at the transition area there were a thousand bikes lined up, so you can imagine my disappointment when I looked up and saw only about 15 bikes left! My plan was to take it easy in transition and not stress. I switched to cruise mode for a few minutes, had a bit of a stretch and headed out on the bike.
A big smile came over me, all the excitement came back and I felt bloody great. The bike felt comfortable and fast and I started passing other riders easily. There's often times in marathons where I start to feel goosebumps, everything feels easy, I'm so happy, feel ten foot tall and love the world. That feeling came over me during this ride and I just loved every minute of it. I treasure these moments, they are what drives my addiction to doing these things.
My plan was to hold a heart rate of about 170 beats per minute during the ride. This is what I have become used to trying to keep up on our Saturday rides. I felt comfortable at this level and was able to keep passing people the whole ride. I was stoked! It was heaps of fun and just seemed to be over so quickly.
I nervously rode into transition, not knowing what to expect when I put my foot to the ground. Off I went landing flat on my left foot and forefoot on my right. Huge relief, it was not too bad. Then after the first km or two, things started to get a lot more amusing. My altered gait was causing my left calf to tighten up and get sore. I then worked out that on my left foot I needed to alternate between landing flat foot for 10-20m and forefoot for 10-20m. Visions of John Cleese's 'Ministry of Funny Walks' came into my head and I just had to have a laugh. It was at that point that I knew I had to write the story of this adventure, a comedy of errors. How not to do a triathlon.
Soon after that, of course both my feet went completely numb. I am "lucky" enough to occasionally experience this and it didn't upset me too much because I know that after about 5-10km it goes away. By the time I was half way through the 21km run I was starting to feel great. Everything started to feel easier and I really enjoyed the last 10km. Fantastic! I'm about to finish my first triathlon. The feeling on the course was so inspiring, heaps of spectators lining the route, the atmosphere was pure energy.
In support of the mighty Sea Eagles on Grand Final day, I had arranged for Therese to give me my Manly jersey a few hundred meters from the finish. I crossed the line arms in the air, wearing my Manly jersey and yelling out "GO THE MIGHTY SEA EAGLES!" What a great feeling! I will definitely be back for more of this.
Conveniently the finish line was right beside Harrigan's Tavern. I only had to walk 10m and I suddenly found myself with a nice cold schooner of beer in my hand. A steak for lunch. Then home to watch Manly demolish Melbourne in the Grand Final. Just in case some of you forgot, the score was 40-0. As tempted as I am to list the records that were broken, I will spare you all.
Special thanks to Geordie who I can always rely on for plenty of cheering on. Thanks to James for all his help and the pain he happily causes me every Saturday. Thanks for the pain also must go to Rebekah as well as a big thank you for supercharging my motivation and inspiring me greatly. Most of all thanks to Therese who always helps me out so much in these things and gives me the biggest cheers of all. I love ya.
