Trains, Travels

Wednesday morning and once again I slept in; eight hours and I was still tired. Not that this was unexpected, I’ve survived enough Epic Camps to know what would come – the inevitable crash. From the peak of fitness to the depth of lethargy, the legs that towed the bunch across the Alps had vanished. Three days after camp a last minute invite to the National Club Relays was probably best declined. Of course, I accepted.

As the week came to an end my immune system gave up and I added an irritating cough to my ailments. I was the poorest ringer possible – in no shape to race, but the Police Sport UK team was relying on me to fill a gap. Not that I have strong connections to the police, a couple of athletes I coach and my brother-in-law are the closest I come to uniform. It didn’t seem to matter and I wasn’t worried so long as I didn’t have to deal with any rioting!

Commitment made I was up at 5:30 on Sunday ready for the long drive to Nottingham; after a week of lie-ins it was a shock to the system. I wasn’t filled with enthusiasm and found myself regretting volunteering. At least the motorways were clear at that time. Those initial reservations had vanished by the time I reached Holme Pierrepont. This was going to be fun.

The relay format is simple, but incredibly chaotic. All four members of the team swim, then all four bike and finally all four run. Short bursts of intensity with long breaks in between, the exact opposite of my preferred format. I was concerned I wasn’t the right choice for the race, but the team was relaxed about the competition. We were winging it. There was uncertainty as to how events would run, but as third man I could watch what the others did.

We wandered down to the swim start to see our lead man, Andy, off. I paid close attention to the first change over to fully appreciate how disorganised it was. The challenge in transition was finding your team mates amongst the sea of Orca and Blue Seventy wetsuits. Our second man, Neil, had an old suit with distinctive yellow logo which made him easy to spot. When he exited the water I ran forward, grabbed the elastic band (the baton) and dashed into the water.

It was just over a week since I’d last swum, but in the excitement I felt great. This was different to my usual races – swim as hard as I could for 500m, then rest afterwards. I kept the pace up, but lacked the sharpness of regular swim training. In no time I was exiting the water and yelling out for Carl, our fourth man. Once I’d handed over the band I walked back to the expo to wait for the next stage.

The wind was picking up and clouds blocked out the sun, in my wet tri gear I reflected on how experienced relay racers used different kit for the swim. New to the game I spent the hour between events shivering, trying to find shelter from that cold wind. It wasn’t ideal preparation for a bike time trial, my legs were freezing as I waited for Neil to complete his final lap. The second the elastic band was on my wrist I was off.

The start of the loop round the lake was with the wind, speeds were high. It was obvious my legs didn’t have much in them; whether from the cold start, or more likely the ongoing effect of Epic Camp, they were not going to perform. I pushed to get the most I could, but watched my power with disappointment. It felt hard, heart rate was up and I was producing fewer watts for the distance than I manage in training.

Turning into the headwind was tough going. It was disappointing to see the number who considered drafting acceptable along this straight; a few of the top placing teams blatantly sat on wheels. I just held whatever pace I could and tried to ignore the pain in my legs, reminding myself it would be over in no time. Just suffer the headwind three times. It wasn’t long before I was back in transition and handing the band on to Carl.

The hardest part of waiting is the fear you might be late. I headed to the final transition too early, Neil was still there. As it was he put in a fast 5K so I didn’t have long to wait after he left. Again my legs had nothing. No soreness, but when it came to pace, the top end was gone. I pushed myself, especially during the final two kilometres of headwind, but this was unexceptional racing. Once the band was on Carl’s wrist, my job was done.

Carl closed well bringing the team in with a total time of 3:25. In the top thirty, but losing out to the Police Sport UK vets. Not that we were concerned with time or placing, it had been fun. I checked my results and was disappointed by what I saw – wrong distance, wrong time. I will be back though, probably in a team I actually belong to and hopefully with a little more zip in my legs. The relays were too much fun not to try again.

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Tough races are often the best learning experiences. I knew I would have problems at the Outlaw, but come away with useful data and insights for future events. It was about the bike, a chance to test the one area I’d really trained this season. Performance was good, I pushed hard, though felt there was definite room for improvement.

Having reported on the Outlaw at the start of the week, it’s now time to pick the race to pieces.

Swim

Finish time is the only piece of data I have for the swim, it’s not good. There’s little to analyse other than my subjective experience. I am aware I was undertrained and performed badly on the day; fitness and open water skills limited me. At my peak I have always felt very comfortable coming out of the water, but lower swim volume led to more fatigue. How much impact this carried into the rest of the day is impossible to gauge.

Bike

I set an ambitious target of 250 watts for race day. Training suggested I could hold that pace and I believed I could equally fuel it. It was a stretch and would take me into territory likely to impair running, but I wasn’t expecting to run well so why not try?

The trend was downward – an initial hard output trailed off as the ride progressed. I was not aerobically decoupling, power and heart rate fell together, the effort simply dropped. Fatigue was a definite factor, but so was the mental game. I lost focus, experienced nutritional problems and increasingly freewheeled downhills. The athletes around me and growing traffic broke my consistency; there were frustrating moments as I waited for cars to pass those a lap behind.

To a degree it explains some of the fall off in power. Unimpeded on the return leg I raised my effort back to target and rode the final half hour strongly. Starting the ride attempting to average 250W was too hard and broke from my usual approach of building to race pace. Ironman New Zealand has comparable figures, but the race started easier and finished harder.

Goal Pacing	Standard Pacing

The first chart above demonstrates how far I fell short of my pre-race targets, I don’t come close. To sustain a cap of 250W would require me to be working above it as much as below, whilst I pushed towards it I wasn’t able to go that far. Adjusting my targets to typical proportions of FTP, as in the second graph, brings my performance inline with expectations.

My goal was too much of a stretch. I didn’t feel at my best on the bike; the fortnight before the race was too light and my taper improvised in the final days. Allowing for this, perhaps there were five or even ten watts more in me on a better day with better pacing. Compared to New Zealand this felt like I was riding at a lower intensity.

There are clear lessons – better consistency in pacing, dealing with other athletes more effectively, holding back at the start and sustaining the effort through the middle lap. Comparing power and performance with other riders at other races makes me painfully aware that I need to consider a new race bike. I ride well, but I also give away time with my terrible aerodynamics.

Despite missing the original target I’m happy with my performance; I worked harder. I’ll lower my caps for Challenge Henley and put more work into sustained efforts at these levels. Having the course to train on should help with maintaining consistency in the race.

Run

This is the first time I’ve collected detailed run data, but with the poor training it’s hard to draw conclusions. Run/walk was not enough to keep me moving through the marathon, my legs began failing after an hour. The positive I take from the chart is my cadence is very consistent when running; technique felt good throughout, especially when raising the pace at the finish.

Initial pace was high and perhaps something I could have sustained in the past, but with my reduced training there was little chance of holding it for twenty-six miles. Walk breaks were too brief during the first lap and I might have benefited from extending them. However once my legs went, I had to walk, no adjustments to my early strategy could change that.

Knowing I would finish outside my normal time I eased back. Physically the potential was there, I ran the last two miles at a reasonable pace, but the mental edge wasn’t. I didn’t have the will to push through the discomfort. The only benefit of holding back is the speed with which I now recover.

I survived the run. It was harder than I’d anticipated, but I did stick to the most important goal – I remained injury free. I’ll keep building training as my running improves with an aim to complete Challenge Henley in far better shape. Racing the marathon remains a way off.

A tougher day than I’d expected and I never felt fully on my game. Even cycling, where I should have been most comfortable, wasn’t at one hundred percent. Being away from racing for so long had made me rusty, I didn’t want to be there when the day started. Since I’ve finished I’m re-motivated and keen to race better.

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Evidently I’ve forgotten a lot in nine months. Racing the Outlaw Triathlon felt like my first Ironman – the pre-race nerves, the pressure and checking kit over multiple times. I was a rookie again, it showed throughout race day. Despite expectations to perform my mind wasn’t completely in the game.

The oversights started at breakfast – a bowl of porridge, eggs and a mug of strong coffee – fine apart from the lack of fluid. Driving to the race venue I became aware that I felt dehydrated, a single mug of coffee wasn’t enough. Arriving at Holme Pierrepont I focussed on setting up transition instead of correcting this. All I had were a couple of cups of water after I’d put my wetsuit on.

I was apprehensive. I made my way to the fastest start pen despite knowing I was a long way off the lead swimmers. Nerves took over; I held myself back, unwilling to place myself aggressively and get involved in the pack. My head still wasn’t in the race. It showed – I was unprepared and slow off the mark.

For a while there was a pack, but I soon slipped back. A lack of training – swimming felt hard. My mind wandered, negative thoughts dominated; I thought about dropping out and quitting Ironman, cycling appealed. Unfocussed I veered wide, it provided the wake-up call I needed. Back on track I settled into a rhythm, swimming wide and mostly alone, but progressing. I knew I was slow, I’d make up for it on the bike.

Exiting the water into a busy transition tent I had no idea of my time. Out of practice I fumbled through my bag not wanting to forget anything. Over the bustle I heard Tom Williams yelling at me to crack on with it; he was right this was a race. I dashed out of the tent and finally checked my watch – 1:10, slow. I grabbed my bike and stumbled to the mount line, I really was out of practice.

Once I was riding I settled. Aiming for my power targets I was surprised at how hard everyone was working this early in the day. Progress through the field was slow, I paced with a team rider for a while until the first hill separated us. Once the road turned up I was left behind as I kept my effort under control. I didn’t want to risk an early surge and places lost on a hill were soon taken back on rolling terrain.

The ride went smoothly apart from nutrition. Last minute purchases limited my options and whilst the High 5 bars tasted nice and worked in training, they were too sweet on race day. After three hours my stomach felt unsettled and feeding became a case of eating what I could tolerate. I used the opportunity to rehydrate myself and flush some of the sugar through my stomach, but it left me feeling bloated.

Over the three laps a couple of riders passed me and I paced off them until their efforts dropped, it helped keep me focused. I went too easy on the second lap and the third suffered from the increasing traffic. Once on the home straight I time trialled back feeling strong. Power numbers shot back up to my target and I passed a few riders in the final kilometres.

Reaching transition I was a little concerned I’d done too much, but once off the bike I went into autopilot. I started the marathon in fourth place, having biked myself well up the field. If I could hold a run/walk strategy for a 3:30 then sub-10 would be no problem. Of course the back of my mind was wondering if I could hold onto fourth place or even move up; at that point running felt good.

Forty minutes in and this was now my longest run in nine months – unfamiliar territory. I’d slowed a little, but still felt good. The first lap was fine, my strategy seemed to be working. Slowly my hips and knees ached, whilst my muscles felt strong the joints complained, unused to the repeated pounding. Walk breaks extended and by the end of the second lap I had to walk the length of the lake.

Passing the finish line for one more lap was tough. I’ve never DNFed and didn’t want to start, but I was questioning the value of seven miles of what could be mostly walking. Whilst I didn’t savour being out there that long the idea of a DNF was worse. I spurred myself into a jog. It lasted out to the river path before I was forced back to walking, with a few miles to go I no longer cared.

Receiving my final lap band was all the motivation I needed to pick things up and I ran the last couple of miles at a more reasonable pace. Why couldn’t I do that seven miles before? That was it, time to get the job done. One last, slow push and the race was over.

I’m glad I raced and enjoyed the experience. I needed to get back out there and test myself, it had been too long. The work on the bike is paying off, but there’s much more to be done; the rest was in line with preparation. A positive is the run technique work helped keep me injury free and if there’s an advantage to a slow marathon it’s the faster recovery.

Not long till the next race, better work on my swim and run.

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