Trains, Travels

An Ironman is a competition. There are finishing times and positions; you place against others. There may be awards at the front or slots for World Championship events. Everyone on the start line wants to perform to the best of their ability. But before you start planning your race consider this question: are you really racing?

Drawn into the idea of competition, head to head racing, pushing each other along it’s easy to miss the importance of managing effort. How well can we make the fine judgements in pacing to gain every extra second from the course and conditions? Step beyond your fitness and the odds are you’ll pay later; a few seconds gained here could be minutes lost later. Worse is basing your strategy on those around you, going with stronger athletes so as not to lose a place. Ironman pacing has to be controlled. The simpler the plan the easier that is.

Caps are simple. The beauty of “I will not work above effort X” is you know as long as you stay below X you’re fine. You’ll get through the event; you’ll finish strongly. Above X and the outcome is unknown. Caps may not be optimal, but they’re pragmatic. Play close to the line and you have to accept the risk. You’re gambling. Is it worth it?

I’ve spent a few years familiarising myself with pacing errors. My first Ironman featured a spectacular mistake when I headed out on three hour marathon pace. I felt good and going under 9:15 first time would be amazing. Somehow I held together enough to drag myself to a 3:26 run. I finished in a respectable time with a clear understanding that going fast early leads to a slower race overall. Next time round I didn’t gamble I held a steady pace, finished strongly and set a new PB in the process.

My recent detonation on a training run started with a plan for a steady run. It turned into a head to head 5K race: hard, but under control. A mile from home I imploded. From 5K pace to Ironman plod in 500m. Put that 20km into a marathon and it’s a slow journey home. If I make pacing errors in training how can I expect to get it right in racing? Under the pressure to perform my rules have to be simple.

So you should just plod round and be happy to finish?

No! Aim to perform your best, but build this on the basis of a realistic assessment of your capabilities and a simple plan. Be aware that looking for ways to gain time and places adds complexity and risk. Can you follow the plan under pressure, low on food? How certain are you you can pace the race well? The capacity to carry your effort through to the finish is a big decider in Ironman racing. If you can run the final 10km hard you can make up the time and places you’re chasing.

Slowing as the race goes on? Effort levels soaring? Worry about these looking to gain some extra seconds throughout the course. These are clear signs of errors in the plan: pacing beyond your ability or not eating enough. Until you know the pace that you can sustain to the line you can’t judge where improvements can be made. Experiments need a control; without a well executed Ironman it’s hard to tell how a new strategy will perform.

Following Austria I had a series of experiments to establish my own well executed race. It took four or five attempts to get close. I learnt to hold back early on the bike and run saving myself to finish harder. Pushing to gain a place rarely worked. Surging beyond my capacity would inevitably draw me into a battle over who would be in front. A pointless waste of energy distracting me from the plan. I had to know how to race the clock before I could race the competition.

I’ve tweaked my plans since, tried pushing the bike or run, but find myself returning to a fundamental position. To reach my goals I need to build the fitness and skills. I can’t rely on a good day, on being able to over perform; I need a bad day to be good enough. I’ll return to Austria with a simple plan: race close to my capabilities, conserve and be ready to really race that final 10K. If I’ve built the fitness and keep within myself I’ll reach my targets. Clever tactics won’t make the difference.

Discussions of pushing part of the race, looking to gain places or sticking with a strong group always concern me. You won’t know the competition or the conditions till the day, but you know your fitness. Race plans should be built around the things you can control not the desire to grab every place you can. Be prepared to let people go or hold back despite the temptation to gain a few seconds. Get the fundamentals right before you start taking risks.

It is a race. You are racing. But it’s a long day. Plans need to be simple because you have to follow them after eight hours of exertion. They need to be built around your abilities. Control your pace and in the final 10K you’ll really race.

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Ironman racing is simply a matter of managing pace and nutrition over the course of a day. You work at an intensity you know you can hold all day long. It might take concentration, at times it might be hard, but you’re sure you can manage that effort. You’re certain because you’ve followed my advice and practiced it in training: the work feels familiar. Despite the simplicity so many go wrong and struggle through the marathon.

The bike is where the biggest errors occur. You feel fresh from a taper and set out at too hard. It feels good, at least for a couple of hours. Eventually it bites and the only thing that can happen is you slow. Once down that route it’s hard to recover. Putting a cap on intensity can save you from walking the run. It doesn’t matter if the cap is defined by power, heart rate or perceived exertion; what’s important is you stick to it.

Capping intensity is easy. You see a power or heart rate over your cap: you ease up. If it feels harder than it should: back off the pace. Train for this so you know what it feels like and what numbers work. Simple!

It’s straight forward until you hit the hills. Unless you chose to race in Florida or Western Australia they’ll be some climbing. St George, Lanzarote, Nice: the right (or perhaps wrong) course and the ascents are significant. The bike route may necessitate working beyond your self-imposed cap. How do you pace a race when the hills take you out of your comfort zone?

Immenstadt wasn’t an Ironman, but contained enough brutal climbs to make 130km feel like one. Climbs were rarely long, but they were decidedly steep. My normal cap of 150bpm frequently became the minimum needed to crest a hill. Bursts of intensity take a lot out of the legs; I was well aware my quads could be suffering by the run. Downhills allow some recovery, but not enough to compensate for frequent surges. Besides easing up too much downhill is giving time away.

The German course was two laps – the first slightly longer than the second – both with significant climbs. I attempted to hold back on the first and push the second harder. A strategy that works well. Early on people rode by, but I caught most of them before the run. A test ride had confirmed it would take more than 150bpm on the climbs so I set myself a secondary cap. When there was no way to get below 150 (short of getting off) I’d ensure I stuck below 160.

I broke my rules on the first hill! Excitement as spectators lined the road. Fortunately we lost the crowds and I saw sense. For the rest of the race I was more controlled. I rode flats and downhills like any other race, keeping the effort in control and the heart rate under 150. I worked slightly harder than average up shallow hills. Intensity was close to the limit, but remained under the primary cap. On the steep climbs I had to cross the line and work harder. I emphasised keeping heart rate and effort as low as possible.

There was always the potential for a hill to necessitate breaking the secondary cap. A bit steeper still and it’d be out of my control. The caps are guidelines: set points to keep it simple. What I’m seeking to do is spend the shortest amount of time working above my sustainable effort. I know it will happen, but aim to minimise its impact on the race. In the same respect I avoid easing up on the downhills. A generally even pacing strategy with slightly more work on the uphill sections.

At times it felt slow. Athletes came riding by, but controlling my effort lets me sustain my pace for longer. Power up the hills early and they’d feel like mountains later. Surges in effort come at a price if I crossed that line too many times my race would suffer. Holding back well in the first lap let me gamble on pushing the second. It was a risk, but trusting in my run fitness I was willing to take it. I had to be sure I could handle a few more hours racing even with the extra efforts.

The rules are identical for the run: have intensity caps. The numbers or feel may be different, but the principles remain the same. Above this intensity there’s a high risk you’ll slow before the line. Below it there’s the chance to pick things up and finish strongly. I judge my performance by pace, but I’m aware of its limitations on a hilly course. I’m trying to control the work I do; 6:30 miles are significantly harder on a 5% grade. My preference is for perceived exertion. I’ll strictly keep my efforts under control until I’m approaching the end.

As with cycling I allow for an increase in exertion on hills, but limit how hard I go. Downhills present an additional challenge. There is free speed, but the eccentric loading does more damage to tired legs. I’ve rarely ‘raced‘ down hills; I’ve used them to settle my heart rate after a climb. A moment to ease intensity, recover and pull yourself together for the remaining miles. However tempting it is to fly down them I hold back and keep my run together.

On a good day there are no rules for the final few miles. Just push, you’ll make it to the line. Even then pacing on hills can still matter. Out in Kona a couple of miles from the finish I pushed from the bottom of the final rise to Palani. A short climb, but after 24 miles I felt every inch of it. I went too early and too hard; by the top my legs were gone. Had it been more than a mile to go things would have turned very ugly! Late in the day, but a clear demonstration that going too hard comes at a high cost. It wouldn’t have gone so well if I’d ten miles to go.

Athletes tend to let hills and harsh conditions psych them out. Everyone faces the same course on the same day. A flat course can be just as challenging as a mountainous one if you pace it correctly. Both should be raced at the hardest effort you can sustain for the duration. The hills will slow you, but they’ll slow everyone. You may spend longer racing and that does mean holding back a little more, but so should everyone. Controlling and managing your effort over the day so you finish strongly will serve you well.

Hilly or flat, it’s the way you manage your race that will make the difference.

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I’ve reached a fitness low. Any doubts I had were eradicated when I detonated during a hard training run last week. It wasn’t supposed to be hard, I didn’t want it be, but I entered into an unspoken race. Four or five kilometres of pushing was too much and I blew within site of home. I could choose to be depressed by the loss of form, but in fact I’m excited. I haven’t been here in a long time.

The process I’m going through reminds me of my early days transforming myself from a lazy, desk bound computer programmer into an athlete. I’m a few steps up the ladder, but the principles remain the same. When I tried to run fast I got a swift reminder that I wasn’t ready. Too much, too soon.

Training is simple. Stress the body, recover and adapt. That’s it. The challenge is getting the stress right. Sufficient that we adapt well, but not so much that recovery is delayed. We all want to be fitter and faster and equate that to training faster or harder. As stress rises so does recovery time. There’s a point where we have to question the value of working harder: is it inhibiting our overall plan?

Timing is key. Sessions that takes multiple days of recover should be held in reserve and used deliberately. At the beginning of training they are entirely inappropriate. If the rest of the week suffered it was too much. Racing in training left me with sore legs and hints of old injuries, the result was reduced running later in the week. The session stressed my body harder than a steady run. Its individual impact was greater, but missing other sessions cost me overall.

Current fitness means any training stresses me. It’s true for all new athletes or those who’ve taken time off. Instead of settling into a routine that emphasises developing fitness and basic skills we’re tempted to train like someone at their peak. We shouldn’t completely avoid hard work, just manage its quantity; there’s much to be gained consistently training.

My last post broke down an Ironman to emphasise the elements needing practice in training. Much of that can be too much too soon. Approaching Kona last year I went on long rides containing extended periods at Ironman and Half Ironman pace. They were effective, but hard work. Were I to attempt one now the results wouldn’t be pretty. Riding the distance would be sufficient stress; race intensity would be excessive.

What’s relevant is the importance of identifying our specific training requirements. Before we consider race pacing or nutrition we need to be ready to handle it. I won’t jump back in to six hour rides at race intensity. I’ll keep the hard work shorter and the long work easier until I’m ready to merge the two. It can feel slow, it can feel ineffective, but with progression results follow.

Coaching poolside the desire to rush is most evident. Triathletes race through their warm up and drills before attempting to smash out the main set. Every length needs to be the fastest yet. The contrast when a more experienced swimmer held up the lane carefully performing each drill was striking. It remained in the main set as he left the fast drillers behind, unable to keep on his feet. A clear instance where going faster is not the answer; drills are about technique not aerobic conditioning.

Athletes expect that results come from an endless stream of hard training. It’s more challenging getting someone to hold back than push their limit. If the athlete listens they can focus on their actual limiters and avoid cycles of push and recovery. It may be by improving swim technique or by enabling them to run more overall. It can often reduce their fatigue and help them go harder when it really counts. The solution to faster racing is not always faster training.

Going fast remains a temptation. You would think returning from an injury would make me far more careful. The ego is a powerful thing! There’s no harm in short doses, but I’ll save the rest for the summer. At least my little race helped me appreciate where I am now and the work I need to be doing. It’s too soon to be going fast.

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