Trains, Travels

No race review is complete without examining the data collected over the event. Power, pace and heart rate give me a good indication as to what happened during a tough day out. After a month without training I had no idea what to expect – I was racing blind. With no real sense of fitness I followed my default race plan, acting as if I was properly prepared. Unsurprisingly I wasn’t at my best, but I was capable of more than anticipated.

Bike

I’d set an aggressive power target of 240 Watts, particularly ambitious given the recent lack of cycling. This number was my motivation, feel ultimately dictated my performance, but I was watching and attempting to hold that target. The first lap was easy – 240W was no challenge, but I would pay a price later on. Declining power and heart rate are a clear indication of fatigue – my legs couldn’t sustain the effort and intensity dropped. By the third lap I could only just hold on.

In view of my pacing targets and power caps it’s clear I pushed the first lap too hard. I didn’t cap myself, but drifted around 240W. Whilst spikes in power were minimal (out of the saddle efforts in the final lap produced more), the amount of time above my primary cap was too high. I knew I was pushing, but with my heart rate under control and feeling good I went with it. Perhaps with a better lead in I could have held it, but clearly the fitness wasn’t there. Had I genuinely capped my effort, I suspect my performance would have been even over the entire race.

Despite the decline I wasn’t overtaken, I suspect most people were suffering similar effects at those later stages. I was consistent, spent little time coasting, but used downhills for more recovery than I’d planned. Again it’s most visible in the final lap, fatigue sees me resting on the descents. Perhaps it helped save my legs for the run.

There is good and bad in this ride. In many respects it wasn’t a performance I’m proud of; it was painful and hard. I don’t know how well I would have performed after my usual taper, but I’ve no doubt that a month off significantly impacted my race. I made pacing errors though, I lacked the confidence to truly cap at my goal and tried to bank extra watts early on. You cannot bank watts, the cost of pushing early is too high.

Run

A huge surprise. After walking to a 4:10 marathon at the Outlaw I wasn’t expecting much from Henley. That lack of training would surely make me suffer and the way my legs felt coming into transition I couldn’t imagine running. I’d altered my race plan – aiming for a slower pace and short walks through aid station. Unlike the bike I stuck to the plan, as I chased someone out of transition I made the conscious decision to let them go. I pulled my pace down to 5:00 min/km and intended to hold it there.

That pace was optimistic. Throw in aid stations and a few seconds for walk breaks and the average speed drops. Then there are three notable breaks – two stops at Portaloos and a final walk break before the push home. Time lost, but each break left me feeling better able to run again; that final walk was added to help me finish strongly. An optimistic push at the 30km mark didn’t last long, but after the break I was able to lift my pace for the line.

Considering the near total lack of running in the previous month an improved marathon performance wasn’t expected. The pace was pedestrian, barely taking my heart rate to 135BPM, but it took its toll on my legs. Pains similar to the Outlaw were present, the consistent, slower pace made them more manageable. 3:45 for a marathon is a step in the right direction, even if I’ve a long way to go to my old form. Being able to do that on this season’s minimal running is a positive.

Before the race I commented that if I performed well this unorthodox taper would give me a lot to think about. I performed reasonably. I have no doubt not training for a month is far from ideal, it impaired my race day performance. I am surprised that it didn’t do more harm; there’s clearly a deep level of fitness that can get me round an Ironman in a respectable time. There’s probably room for me to do less in my regular taper periods. I need structure and training leading into a race, but perhaps not as much.

Overall – I badly paced the bike, started too hard and paid later. However my run pacing was on target and proved effective despite the poor preparation. I don’t need data to know the swim was bad and leaves a lot of catching up to be done.

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Immediately after I published my Henley race report I had reservations. It accurately reflected the day, but as has since been pointed out was very critical of my performance. I believe that if you are chasing improvements you need to be able to recognise when you fall short; the desire not to repeat your mistakes, to do better next time, is a powerful motivator. From the perspective of my racing goals harsh criticism was fair, but in a broader context I overlooked the significance of the event.

This year was a break from focussed training, a chance to put my energy into developing my coaching business. Despite that I entered three long course races and frequently bemoaned a lack of improvement or results. Work has necessitated a more relaxed approach to my training schedule, in that regard my results have been good. Instead of judging myself against previous standards, I should remember the plan – I never intended to be at my best.

More importantly, I disregarded how good it was to be racing locally. I had numerous supporters on the course – friends and family. Every bit of support is appreciated, but being cheered on by people you know is that much better. For the first time my parents were able to see me race. Having that support made the day a truly positive experience whatever my result.

I will be revisiting the race, picking through the data and considering my performance – particularly in light of the disrupted lead in. That can wait, it was more important I keep perspective on the day. Challenge Henley wasn’t my greatest race, but it was a good day. I’m not a very responsive athlete, I have tunnel vision, but I did appreciate the support I received and it did filter through. What could be better than racing in front of my home crowd? I’ll have better races, but that’s an experience that will be hard to match.

Despite the interruptions of the last month I’m in no rush to return to training. Recover first and keep training in perspective. I’m taking a break and heading to Pembrokeshire for the weekend. It’s not a perfect escape – whilst there I’m going to check out the Ironman Wales bike course with a view to entering next year. The mountain bike is coming with me, but the heart rate monitor is staying at home. No pressure, just fun. Time to relax and not stress about fitness.

I’ll worry about the next race when I return.

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Standing on the bank of the Thames, shivering in the cold morning air, I questioned the wisdom of entering a late season Ironman. Wetsuit and swim cap did nothing to warm me; if the riverside was this cold, what would the water be like? I sorely missed the warm bed I’d left a couple of hours before. Was there was a way I could graciously back out? Huddled in the start pen, it was too late.

A short delay did nothing to clear the mist, so we filed into the water ten minutes later than planned. In comparison to the bank the river felt warm. Relieved I swam to the start line and positioned myself mid field. Lacking confidence and unsure about the race I held back, unwilling to commit to my original, more aggressive plan. My mind wasn’t in the race and the conditions were doing nothing to improve it. I wanted the day over before it had even begun.

A whistle was blown, the front ranks started moving, the horn sounded in response – we were officially off. I found gaps amongst the swimmers and felt comfortable. I weaved my way from buoy to buoy, poor goggle choice and the mist conspired against me, but I was making good progress. Perhaps my doubts were unfounded. As time dragged this temporary positivity vanished, replaced with frustration and impatience, it seemed an age before the far turn point emerged from the mist.

The return leg should have been easier – we were swimming with the current. Instead I was swimming through treacle, being passed at an alarming rate, the flow of swimmers passing never stopped. I tried to dig deeper, but my lack of training shone through; I could bluff a kilometre, but 3.8K was a different matter. I plodded back to T2.

The slow pace carried into transition. A tent filled with freezing, confused triathletes struggling to warm up. Each of us putting on any extra layers we had; socks, arm warmers, a gilet – I wondered if I should have packed a jacket. I contemplated abandoning the race, but unwilling to quit my only hope was a mechanical on the bike. It was fine.

My mood lifted on the road, this season has turned cycling into a strength, I hoped it would show despite the terrible month before. The ride started well, I was rapidly up to speed and felt good. Familiar with my home course I was confident of my ability to pace it well – push a little harder on the hills and keep steady elsewhere. Fast descents gave time to recover and take in food. Everything was under control, though perhaps I pushed too much first time round, I promised to hold back on lap two.

Instead I pushed on, power was a touch lower, but it felt hard. My legs ached more than they should, was the lack of recent training about to bite? Despite the reduced output I was making progress and taking places – I may be slowing, but so was the rest of the field; all that mattered was I was slowing less. Holding pace through the second lap hit hard, I started the third in a terrible state. Negative thoughts remained – I wanted to stop, but couldn’t give up.

I struggled through the final lap. My only motivation was not being overtaken, but well aware I couldn’t raise my heart rate or match my early power it seemed inevitable. A moment out of the saddle warned me of imminent cramps; at the steepest point on Pishill I didn’t dare stand for fear I’d lock up. Unable to imagine running after this, I nursed myself back to T2. Perhaps I finally had a suitable excuse to quit.

Entering transition on auto-pilot, I changed shoes and headed out on the run. Despite everything that had gone I felt fine and had to reign myself in. I’d decided on a strategy of consistent slow pacing from the beginning. At the Outlaw my high placing in the field had spurred me on, the effort was unsustainable and ultimately I’d walked far more than planned. I didn’t want to repeat that experience, this time I’d run no faster than 5 minutes per kilometre.

The pace felt comfortable and my doubts finally vanished – one way or another I’d complete the race. My stomach had been unsettled most of the day, sick of gels and energy drinks I decided to switch to coke. I’ve always avoided it, the slightest hint of gas upsets my stomach, but I needed fuel. It worked, I could cope with the gas and the potent surge of sugar and caffeine lifted me. I ached, it was tough work, but I no longer wanted to abandon. Steadily I progressed through the field, like the tortoise against the hare.

Starting the final lap I pushed. If I could run 4:45 minute/kilometres I could make a 3:30 marathon. The fantasy lasted two kilometres – the risk of being reduced to a walk was too great. I eased back, returning to my plan, there’d be time to push when I reached the 40.5km marker. I was disciplined, continuing my final walk break as a couple of competitors ran by; a decent finish would bring them back to me.

With two kilometres to go I lifted the pace. It wasn’t spectacular, but I wasn’t slowing as much as the athletes around me. I soon caught one of my competitors, but the other was nowhere in sight. Forgetting him I maintained the pressure until I entered the finishing shoot. Just as I took the turn that second competitor darted around me having been sent the wrong way; I pondered a sprint, but lacked the competitive urge – I just wanted to finish. It transpired he was in my age group and bumped me out of fourth place!

Finally the race was over. The pain had stopped and despite all the doubts I’d finished. A month of poor preparation took its toll, but in the circumstances I’d performed well. Most importantly I’d paced a more respectable marathon, taking a step towards my previous form. I’m glad I never succumbed to the temptation to quit.

The truth is I had a bad race, preparation was poor and I was off focus. I know I’m capable of much better, but I’ve consistently failed to deliver. I can’t keep turning out mediocre race performances. This year has been productive in many areas of my life, but I’ve been coasting in training, relying on years of progress to shore up my results. I suffered in the swim because I’ve not trained; my bike fitness may be good, but once again I arrived poorly prepared; and I can make excuses about run injuries, but need to do the work to fully overcome them. I won’t take these excuses into next year. No more casual racing.

Challenge Henley was a superb event. I just need to be a better athlete. There are many positives from the day and signs of returning form, but equally much frustration as I’m still not there.

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