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Background
Well it all started about 15 years ago, I left University after 4 years of a sustained period of partying and no exercise with a rapidly expanding waistline.
I needed to find a sport which was a challenge and I could do in my own time, keep me fit, and with a certain amount of flexibility. I chose running.
As most people I started off entering a 10K and training to achieve a finish. 10K increased to 10 miles, to Half Marathon, to 20 miles to Marathon. I really loved the buzz of lining up not knowing if I was capable of finishing, and the elation of the finish. The chasing of times didn't really motivate me.
Four marathons later, I decided that I needed something more. Triathlon seemed the obvious choice. I could run, had a Mountain Bike, but could only swim about a length without stopping. There was my new challenge.
After many hours of effort, and patience from Sarah (Hobbs) I entered the renowned Springfield Sprint and achieved an impressive 10 minute 400m swim time. But more importantly I finished. I lined up not knowing if I would finish, and achieved the buzz at the end. I was hooked.
The same pattern followed, Super Sprint, Olympic, Middle Distance. But what about Ironman?
I raced New Forest Middle Distance in 2006, and really suffered on the run. I even had the torture of the Phil (Hobbs) marathon shuffle disappearing away from me at the 10 mile point. I wanted to achieve Ironman (which I believed to be the pinnacle of the sport), but on this performance I was sadly lacking. Another season at Middle Distance for me. If I could achieve sub 6 hours at the New Forest, then it could be achievable.
Sub 6 hours came and went in 2007, (after smarter nutrition), and the next stage was in sight.
Which Ironman should I do?
First stage was to go and see a race, so I volunteered to Marshall at UK Ironman 2007. I saw ordinary people achieving extraordinary things, the fear and the elation. there really were all shapes and sizes! This was for me.
I contemplated the pros and cons of racing in the UK and abroad. The UK was cheaper (I could drive down on the day), I could experience the course in training, my family could come and support, the timing was late summer (giving me summer to train) and the weather would be predictable (raining). The negative points were the slightly muted atmosphere in comparison to other European city events (or so I was led to believe), and the weather.
On balance I paid my £240 to Ironman UK, and the journey had begun.
I gratefully received Jon (Glyde's) Training Plan and I was off, or so I thought. I even had a friend from Honda enter to keep me company (the ever competitive Graeme Hardie).
Along came December and I was struggling to run more than 30 minutes without knee pain. This was not in the plan. I ended up having knee surgery on 28th January 2008. A slow period of rehabilitation ensued.
Jon's training plan started in March 2007 (6 months before the event), and I managed to start running by then, with a gradual build up for the first 3 months, to 3 months peaking in 20 hour weeks (with a rest day, do the maths!)
The hard schedule coupled with a wet summer was gradually grinding me down. But I managed to keep my eye on the bigger picture, particularly with the support of the girls (my wife Louise, and 2 year old daughter Elly).
The Race Build Up
The grand plan was to stay at home in Devizes the night before the race, driving down race morning (about an hour). The logic was that I was I would be in my own bed, and I probably wouldn't sleep much anyway so the early start wouldn't be a problem (I would also save £150 for the two night stay in Sherborne).
As part of this plan I decided to take Friday and Monday off work to Register, have a practice swim in the lake, and recover on Monday.
I awoke Friday to torrential rain, undeterred I packed the wetsuit in the car and drove down to Sherborne. The conditions were terrible. The car park was the muddiest field I have ever seen and the wind was blowing the event marquees all over the place. Just as I thought to myself that I would forget the swim, and just register, Graeme turns up in his 4X4 struggling across the field. Between ourselves we decided to at least have a quick splash in the lake as we had driven all that way. The rain was still driving down, and I put my wetsuit on in the car park (field), then my wellington boots, and we struggled down to the lake to join the other thirty or so people huddled there under a gazebo for warmth.
The lake itself was actually very nice, it was clean, not weedy, and didn't have any obvious big fish in it (my latest phobia). Having said that it was very murky, with visibility probably 3 feet (so if there were any big fish you wouldn't be able to see them). We swam up to the start line (about 200 metres), had a bob about and got out after about 20 minutes. Not so bad.
All that was left to do now was to register.
I told them my name, showed my identification and was presented with three bags, one white (for clothes that you wear on race morning), one blue (for bike kit), one red (for run kit), a swim hat, timing chip, a race number, and a big sheet of stickers with my number on it (how else are they going to sell you photos?).
I struggled back to the car through the rain and drove back home to pack my bags to bring down with my bike on Saturday.
Now I don't think I have a paranoid personality but I couldn't checking the contents of the bags, I even made lists and ticked items off as I put them in. Eventually I had half the contents of my house in these bags for every eventuality. What do you mean I won't need four inner tubes, three CO2 canisters and a pump?
Saturday was very different day, the sun was even shining for a while.
I arrived racked my bike, and hung my blue and red bags on a hook (a bit like I remember an infants school) ready to retrieve later. Even the lake looked inviting.
We then all had to attend a race briefing that was hosted by a cheesy american who kept talking about the Ironman family, and making people stand up who's birthday it was, or hadn't done a triathlon before, or had done lots of Ironman distance races etc etc.
But unfortunately he had a very serious friend from Dorset Ambulance who gave us all a reality check. His specialist subject was how many amulances were here, how he could recover us from the course, what medical attention he could give us, how far the nearest hospitals were, intravenous drips, the dangers of not drinking/eating enough, the dangers of drinking too much. This suddenly got serious. I thought this was sport. Bring back the cheesy guy!
My alarm went off at 2.15am on Sunday (race day) morning after a fitful nights sleep to say the least. I forced my breakfast down (with seconds for the car) and did my usual morning routine. I was in the car at 3.15am, don't break down on me now!
Arrived in Sherborne at 4.15am just as transition was opening and joined the other nervous looking people checking things and waiting to put their wetsuits on. It seemed like the middle of the night. It was pitch black, but at least it wasn't raining!
I put my wetsuit on at about 5.30, taking extra care not to pull the sleeve off (easily done), and put an old pair of running shoes on that I could throw away as I entered the water (we were on cold wet grass).
After about twenty toilet stops, we were called to the water at 6am, already half an hour late. My strategy was to stay towards the back and out of trouble. I floated in the freezing water (it seemed much colder than Friday) with 1,000 swimmers in front of me, it was a fantastic sight just as the sun was rising. A chorus of Oggy Oggy Oggy went up, the buzzer went and we were off.
I couldn't believe how busy it was. I was being bumped, jostled, climbed over, and stopping and starting in the crowd; it was so hard to get into any rhythm. Think about the start of the London Marathon in water. I was probably swam into about every 2 minutes for the first lap. I swim fairly straight because I sight every 3 strokes (the theory being that I don't want to swim any further than I have to), but some people seem to swim diagonally until they hit an object, then back again; unbelievable.
By the time I got to the second lap the field had spread out and I was able to get into a rhythm and began to quite enjoy it. I got to about 2 miles and my shoulders began to ache but now I could see the inflatable Powerbar “finish line” so I just kept going. I was helped out of the water and my name was announced on the PA as a swim finisher as I walked up to transition. That was the worst bit over (or so I thought). On the journey to transition (about 200m) there was a huge tunnel of people cheering (including Jon Glyde-it was good to see a friendly face!) I'd just swam 2.4 miles in 1 hour 20 minutes. Happy with that.
I grabbed hold of my bag from the hook and proceeded to the busy changing area. I decided to go for a complete change of clothing so I went into the male area to remove my wetsuit and put on my cycle bibshorts. This was not so easy, the area was busy and I was dizzy from the swim. As I was standing there wrestling with my wetsuit whilst trying not to remove my timing chip a young lady walks in, stands next to me and strips off. Whether she didn't realise it was male only, or didn't care. I'm not too sure, but no-one even raised an eyebrow.
After about fifteen minutes I found my bike and I was off.
I knew the bike course (after many practice rides), so all I had to do was concentrate on nutrition. The feed stations were every twelve miles, serving Gatorade, Water, Powerbars and bananas. My strategy was one Powerbar/hour topped up with a banana, and a bottle of Gatorade. I rode into the first feed station and it was a grab at speed affair, I carefully grabbed what I wanted and rode off. So far so good.
The bike course was windier than I had ever experienced it, and by the time I got to 70 miles (2 laps) I was beginning to struggle to eat enough. The Gatorade and Powerbar combination worked in training, but today it was proving a sickly chewy combination. I felt really sick as I got to the turnaround point for the third lap. I don't remember eating anything except half a banana over the last 40 miles. I was battling so hard against the wind that I couldn't stomach any solid food.
Eventually the final lap was over and I was travelling down the downhill section back to Sherborne Castle to a brilliant reception (thanks Billy) to embark on the small matter of a marathon. My bike time for the 111 miles was just over 7 hours, which included 15 minutes of transition (swim to bike). Not as quick as I had hoped for, but OK. I even got my bike racked for me.
Again did a complete change after grabbing my red bag from the peg , and the changing rooms were much quieter as the field had spread out more. I ran out carrying a gilet, arm-warmers, cap, jelly babies and reflectors-I could be in this for the long haul!
The run course was over 3 laps (8.5 miles each), partly around the castle grounds, patly through the streets of Sherborne. The first lap went well at 90 minutes, I even stopped and chatted to the girls (Louise, Elly and my Mum). I was trying to concentrate on nutrition, there was a feed station every mile comprising Water, Flat Coke, Gatorade, Gels, Bananas and Pretzels. I was taking 3 gels every hour washed down with water, which working well for me until I reached 16 miles.
At the 16 mile point I suddenly felt really dizzy, nauseous, and was shivering. I sat down on the pavement next to a feed station. I was in real danger of not finishing this, the last 6 months of training! I thought the best thing to do was to get some sugar in my body. I started drinking the flat coke and eating the jelly babies I had carried. After about 5 minutes I was able to stand again, and I ran/walked the next 3 miles drinking the flat coke ( I was actually feeling a little better). I got chatting to another runner who said even if you walk all the next 7 miles you will still finish way under the cut-off. He was right, I was an Ironman.
This thought spurred me on, and I got myself running again (albeit slowly), to a fantastic reception down the finishing funnel just as it was getting dark at just over 4 hours 50 minutes (which would also include 15 minutes of bike to run transition).
The finishing experience was fantastic, there were so many people there cheering you in. As I had the medal put round my neck and was checked to see if I needed medical attention I couldn't help but have tear in my eye, this was what the last 6 months of training was about. I was an Ironman.
I had finished in 13 hours 37 minutes.
Even as I walked back to the car after collecting all my bags/bike people were just stopping to congratulate me, I was so proud and happy.
Would I do it again?
Only if I had more time. I had a brilliant day, but the training was long and arduous.
If I could do the race without the training I'd sign up today.
Am I in pain?
I feel like I've run a marathon. I've got aching muscles, knees, hips, lower back and ribcage.
I've got a blister on my toe from getting wet shoes from the Castle section of the run-course.
Nothing long lasting, in a week I'll be back to normal.
Steve Scammell
8th September 2008