“You Are AN IRON MAN………”

“So why, when I crossed the line did I feel like a Jelly Man……..?!”

Did it then. Easy really….. not sure why I was bleating so much beforehand really. NOT!

I can’t say it was easy at all. That’d be stupid, but….call me a masochist if you like, I really did enjoy
every minute of it. Honest. Even when it hurt & it did more than once or twice; but you know what? I
just knew that it was going to be my day…..

Just occasionally I am capable of rational self contemplation (but not very often). I remember
thinking on the Friday before the race just how chilled I was. Sure there were a few butterflies, but
I felt remarkably relaxed, although in truth, the extremely hot weather conditions (it reached 40
degrees in the shade) on the Saturday worried me a little. I was slightly miffed to learn during the
race briefing that wetsuits would be banned because the water temperature was above the limit
at close to 26 degrees (that’s right – 26 degrees – just like a swimming pool!) but I shrugged it off
quickly – probably because I was giggling at the sound of about 2000 jaws dropping in the arena. To
say that people didn’t take it well may have been an understatement – I nearly got trampled by the
rush for the loos! Still HTFU & crack on; there was nothing I could do.

One thing that I could do though was stock up on salt tablets & keep hydrated – the forecast for
race day was between 36 & 38 degrees. That’s hot. As my mate Paul said “Dash, that’ll be a tad
uncomfortable. What a blinking shame.” Well that’s what I think he meant to say – he is from Leeds
after all, so his actual words contained a lot more F’s a few C’s and even a V. I haven’t a clue what
the V was but I’m sure it was rude.

Anyway, after very little sleep race day was upon us. Waking at 03-00am to force some porridge
down isn’t everybody’s dream start to the day, but I bounced out of bed like a 2 year old (you
know, covered in snot & talking gibberish). However, once showered & with a coffee inside me I
started to realise just what was ahead of me….. & felt not an ounce of nerves, only a huge dollop
of excitement. Weird. The biggest race of my young life (Oi! Watch it Marsh!) & I felt less nervous
than doing, oh I don’t know, the Oldham Super Sprint (although that race can make you nervous –
you have to dodge the shopping trolleys in the swim & the sound of gunfire can be distracting. And
before anybody starts moaning, I’m from Oldham so I know).

Fast forward a couple of hours to 15 minutes before gun time. Again no nerves at all. Nothing but
excitement. But then, surprisingly a feeling completely from left field – a realisation that I was
incredibly lucky & hugely privileged to be here at all. What prompted this? Martin Yelling (my coach)
had told me that just before the start I should turn around & look at the field. To take a deep breath
and soak up the atmosphere. As I did so I looked behind me to see an incredible sight. Because I was
one of the first in the water I was met with the view of nearly 2,500 swimmers slowly walking down
the dunes as they came to the swim start area. The view was magical – clear sky, sunshine and huge
crowds even for 6-45 in the morning.

And then, almost before I realised what was happening the gun went off. As Paul would say “Blimey,
this is a tad rough… I say old chap would you mind removing your elbow from my eye. Thank you so
much. Now if I could impose on you to take your foot out of my wedding vegetables, that would be
most appreciated”. I may have abbreviated a little on the day of course.

But you get the picture. I’ve done a number of mass swim starts, but NOTHING could prepare me
for just how much of a punch up this was. Think about going to a Sex Pistols concert & jumping in
the mosh pit. With the Leicester Tigers pack and the Royal Marines. Whilst wearing a Duran Duran t-
shirt. I know I’m showing my age but it illustrates my point. This was rough. None of it is deliberate,
but when you are swimming with people no more than a foot or so away in either direction it’s not
for the faint hearted. Miss a stroke (which slows you down) or veer off course across somebody’s
path and people swim over you. Literally right over the top of you. Get too close & you get a kick in
the face, or an elbow in the ear.

It took at least 2000 m (i.e. the end of the first loop) for the field to even out enough so it became
more comfortable. However by about 3.4 km, I started to struggle. The last 400 m was tough as
hell. The lack of a wetsuit has really taken its toll – I had never felt so fatigued after a swim before.
Fleetingly I wondered if I’d just blown the race there & then. Had I left my race in the water?

But when I got on the bike (after a 300 m run, uphill into transition!) & felt as fresh as a daisy. Or at
least a water lily. Starting the bike course was a revelation. The course was all on closed roads & it
was a surreal experience to ride traffic free down a motorway into the centre of Frankfurt. By the
time I reached the city’s outskirts I could already hear the crowds. As I turned into the course proper
there were thousands of people in attendance (London Marathon scale) all making a huge racket.
This effectively continued all the way around. All the trunk roads are closed, and every village that
you enter is closed to traffic. The locals take advantage of this to have a big party. Every village was
lined by people cheering away as they sipped a beer & bbq’d the hell out of anything that stood still
(you didn’t want to get a puncture at that point). The highlight was at a place called Bad Vibel – in
particular a hill called “Heartbreak Hill” just as you exited the town.

The organisers had told us that they would bus spectators in from the city as this was a key viewing
point. They also said to expect as many as 10,000 people to be present. I’ll remember this as long as
I live – it was just like the Tour De France. The hill was lined with people 4 or 5 deep and the route
was crushed so tightly that you could only get one bike at a time up the hill. People ran alongside
you, patting you on the back, shouting encouragement and shouting “Hop, Hop, Hop” as you stood
up & pushed down on the pedals. I haven’t a clue what it means (perhaps they were suggesting that
I was so crap that hopping up would be quicker?) but it wasn’t half inspirational.

So, lap 1 complete. Bloody hell! Too quick! Getting toward 20 mph as an average is too rich for
an old man like me. Hence lap 2 was much more sedate – I deliberately slowed down to conserve
energy otherwise the marathon would be hell (it was anyway, but it would have been even worse).
Still even more of an opportunity to take in the sights!

As I pulled into transition number 2 I was met once again with efficient German organisation. The
bike was taken from me, my run kit was handed to me, and my discarded bike kit packed & stowed
on my behalf. I looked a bit confused but the helper explained that I had not in fact strayed into the
pro area – they did that for everybody. Blimey. Much better than the Oldham Super Sprint. Although
there you do get issued with a broken bottle for protection on the run course.

As I started the run I glanced at my watch. Just over 8 hours gone. That was better than expected.
It was at this point that I knew I had it in the bag. As long as I didn’t blow up on the run, or suffer to
much from my grumbly Achilles I had it made (note: at this point the winner was just crossing the
finish line!!!).

Don’t temp fate my brain screamed. It’s OK to be confident – but don’t be cocky! Well done brain,
sound advice because after the first 10km loop I realised how tough this was going to be. I had
decided that I would run 2km & then walk through each aid station (which is about 100m long).

There were two reasons for this. Firstly I needed to make sure that I took on enough fuel without
spilling it, and secondly I didn’t want to trip up amongst all the bodies weaving in and out. Actually
there was a third reason – I doubt that I could run all the way!

However, I seemed to be doing better than most. Even at my snail’s pace I was doing OK. Plod, plod,
plod. That’s the secret. After lap 2 it really started to hurt and by lap 3 I was digging in for all I was
worth. I was still operating the same strategy & I was determined to make it. My Achilles was doing
fine, I was seeing my family on each loop – I would finish.

And then the final lap – which perversely seemed easier than number 3! The crowds were still
shouting support, the cow bells were still clanging & the vuvuzelas (yep they even found their way
to Ironman Germany) were still vuvuzaling. Although tough, the last lap was magical, especially as I
entered the finishing chute & into the city’s main square. This was a sight to behold even more than
Heartbreak Hill. Thousands of people lined the chute, or sat in the grandstands. I ran along savouring
the moment, spotting my mates, seeing my wife & bursting into tears as I saw my kids (they often
have that effect on me – usually when iTunes credit needs topping up or dolls need buying). Tears
that I have to admit increased as I crossed the line & heard “Simon – You are an Ironman”!!!!.

Of course I stopped blubbing immediately. Not because I manned up or anything – but because I
had no moisture left! Again, German efficiency took over. A quick visual medical check, and then I
was handed over to a “catcher” who walked me into the athlete’s recovery area. This was a bit like
Neverland crossed with Disneyworld. Jacuzzi’s, showers, ice baths, beer tent, food hall, massage
tables you name it. But best of all? A patch of grass that I made my own. I rolled up in my free towel
& slept solidly for 30 minutes!

So job done:

2.5 mile swim completed in 1:29.

115 mile bike finished in 6:20

The marathon done & dusted in 5:14.

Add in 10 minutes or so for transitions and I completed the day in 13 hours & 15 minutes.

All in all a great day at the office. As much down to my wife & kids, my friends and Team Bottomley
(The Headstart crew and Martin Yelling) as anything I did. Many, many, many thanks to you all.

But would I do it again?

Well what do you think?!

Thanks for reading

Cheers

Simon

T minus 1 week (…..OMG!!!)

Sorry that I haven’t posted for a bit……

But I’ve had a few issues to deal with! It was going so well…… training was pretty much smack on plan. I hadn’t missed any sessions. I’d hit my race targets, and performance indicators. Smashing. Bring on Ironman!

Of course what happened? Yep – an injury. You might remember that I’d been to see Little Richard & Tiny Vix (she is tiny – Richard aint. My attempt at humour you see) from Headstart. Those two are miracle workers, but even they couldn’t shift the problem.

You see an MRI had shown that I had grown a bony spur in my ankle. About the size of a 5 pence piece, which in relative terms is pretty big. Big enough to stop the foot working properly. Bio –mechanically I was, I think the technical term is, buggered. This meant that my Achilles & calf was taking too much strain – QED Achilles tendonitis.

Ever had it? It hurts. A bit like running whilst somebody squeezes your wedding veg.

Why has it manifested itself now (it’s grown over time)? Who knows – perhaps it’s the IM fairies having a joke. Thankfully Rich & Vix (sound like a comedy double act doesn’t it. In fact Vicky is a bit like Jimmy Cranky, but that’s another story) have helped to alleviate it somewhat & I’m still going to have a crack at the Ironman. It’s just that a difficult day out is going to be even more painful.

Still HTFU (ask Chiara – she’ll tell you what it means).

I’m not sure that I’ll post now until after the event. I’ll try but time will be pressing.

If not, wish me luck!!!!

Cheers

Simon

So that’s why they put castles at the top of hills…… – T minus 4

If you say it quick enough, “two ½ Ironmen in a fortnight” doesn’t sound a lot. “It’ll be good for you…. you’ll see” also sounds believable. As does Mark (yep him again) when he says “the Beaver’s a flat course, you’ll love it.”

Well, as a point of order, can I just clarify:

• Two ½ IM races in a fortnight (with a full week of training in-between, including a 100 mile ride) IS a lot.
• I’m sure that the two events will prove good for me….. eventually.
• Mark is a lying b’dard. The course is flat – but only between the hills.

And to cap it all…..It rained. And rained. And rained a bit more. Followed by a bit of a drizzle. The weather was truly horrible, but not of course enough to dampen my spirits!

The Beaver is a well established and very popular race held in the grounds of Belvoir (pronounced Beaver) castle in Leicestershire. The setting is truly magnificent, and because the course is based around a series of laps, it’s great for the spectators – they get to stay in one location & watch Mum / Dad / Wife, whoever, racing around the grounds.

But, unfortunately, it’s hilly. The bike has one nasty hill that you have to repeat four times. It’s tough on the first couple of laps but by lap four some people are walking. Me – I stayed on, but I left some really big teeth marks in my handle bars!

The run doesn’t seem quite so bad – but the gentle gradients take it out of you after a while, particularly when you still have the previous fortnights race in you. It was that hilly that I could swear that the swim was slightly uphill as well….. Perhaps I’m wrong here, but it was full of sediment (the lake is shallow & so the bottom is easily disturbed) & so it was difficult to get your bearings.

Anyway, job done. Monday off, Tuesday back on programme. This weekend just gone saw two rides one of 100 miles & one of 50 miles. I should have been running but I’ve tweaked my calf a bit. Although Little Richard (from HeadStart) worked his magic on Friday, he advised me to rest it for a few days. Believe me when Richard “advises”, you’d better comply. Put it this way – I swear his treatment room has had the door widened to allow him easier access.

Anyway enough from me!

Oh yeah. You do know why they build castles on the tops of hills don’t you? Yep, that’s right. Just to P traithletes off!

Cheers

Simon

Look this isn’t badminton. F’n get on with it – T minus 6 weeks

“And after the race – a nice easy week…….. before the next one….!”

After last week’s ½ Ironman race, a little downtime was hoped for. No, expected. Actually that’s not right either. Demanded. That’s the word.

Coach Martin complied. I got Monday off.

Whoopee. I get Monday off every week. Still never mind. As my mate said last week (Mark again – he’s full of sh…. shining examples of motivational tit bits) – “Look this isn’t badminton. F’n get on with it”. Sorry to all badmintoners. No offence intended on my part. Mark on the other hand…

Anyway, Tuesday I was back in the pool for an hour’s coached session. Wednesday was an “easy” 50 mile ride. Thursday was a steady 10 km run.

Friday was a bit more exciting – a long open water swim. I like those a lot. Apart from when I shove my finger through my wetsuit. That’ll annoy you a bit. Still like Mark says….. (I know, he can be annoying) all the water that it lets in “will increase the drag massively – it’ll be like swimming with a bag full of water attached to you – that’s great training!” He’s a bit hardcore my mate. I swore at one point I saw him shoving his fingers in his suit to see if he could rip it. He gave up in the end but I bet he swam around with it unzipped.

Anyway back in the real world.

Saturday was a long ride. 110 miles of pure hell. Well that’s what I thought it would be, but I enjoyed every moment. It was great fun. I ended it, in just over 6 ½ hours tired but satisfied. It was hot, but not uncomfortably so. Unlike Sunday. That was a painful day – running 13 miles in the baking heat (even at five in the evening) wasn’t my idea of a happy day out. But like Mark says…..oh sod him. You can guess the kind of thing he would say.

In total, Sunday to Sunday about 20 hours of training. My biggest week yet. And as a reward…..some quieter time before, you guessed it…. another ½ IM race this weekend.

Wish me luck.

Cheers

Simon

Did you say that race was called the Marshman…….surely you mean the Bogman?! – T minus 7 weeks

Regular readers (i.e. Chiara, Vicki & my mum) will remember that the weekend gone all hinged around a training race – The Marshman Middle (or half Ironman) Distance. The idea of training races are….. well the clue is in the word “training”.

Not only are you faced with a pretty good workout over all three disciplines, you are doing so under race conditions. In other words, you have the added pressure of other competitors, different environmental factors (not the weather, but the fact that you are operating in a different location than normal), rules, and constraints etc …… those of you who have raced anything will know what I mean.

Of course the golden rule with regard to racing is don’t do ANYTHING different than you are used to. This includes the night before. So don’t for instance eat a meal that you are not used to, or drink anything that is new or untried. Now, I’m not exactly inexperienced as an athlete and so following a strict regimen is pretty much ingrained with me.

Except of course this time.

You see my mate had told me about the delights of a new zero alcohol beer that he’d found. It is, apparently great tasting without the obvious side effects. So I had about six the night before the race. Unfortunately the beer seemed to have the same digestive clearance properties as drinking neat Exlax.

Boy did I suffer. As I waited for the swim start, I knew I was in trouble. So much so that my mate (who’s usually a wee bit slower than me) had his best swim ever. He set off like scalded cat (or fish if you see what I mean). Afterwards he said that was because he didn’t want to swim in my wake. Certainly I didn’t swim well – but you try & swim 2k with your butt clenched. Transition (the bit where you move from swim to bike) was worse. You’ve never seen anybody remove a wetsuit so quickly whilst screaming for directions to the loo. Normally I will be out of transition in about a minute. This time I spent nearly fifteen, mostly sat down with my head in my hands.

Eventually I got on the bike, still feeling decidedly unwell. My problems persisted throughout the 56 mile ride – I don’t want to go into too much detail, but suffice to say, one farmer would have had a real shock when he turned up to work his field on Monday. I’m also grateful for the village with the WC’s on the Green. I’m not sure which village it was, but they should pay their cleaner a bonus. Bike finished in 3:15 ish which was about 20 mins slower than target.

Starting the 13 mile run, I felt very dehydrated, but managed to keep water & gels down sufficiently to finish in just over 2 hours, with a total race time of 6:08. Not too bad as I had a target of 6 hours & I reckon I lost over 20 minutes due to my little problem.

In any event, we had a great day out & the race went surprisingly well if the “digestive” issues are ignored. It was just a case of HTFU. Oh & thanks for asking, I feel much better now…… see you next week!

Cheers

Simon

HTFU!

“I know it’s late, but I’m really sorry ……..you see I’ve been so busy”

It’s not good really is it? You promise to do something for somebody & then you don’t do it on time….I hate that don’t you? So, sorry – mea culpa, no excuses. Honest.

However I have an excuse. This IM training is bloody hard. Work has been busy this week, but as my mate Ian says – you have two choices in this game. And one involves giving up & going home. In other words you have to knuckle down & crack on. The term he uses is HTFU. H stands for Harden. T stands for The. U stands for Up. You can guess what the F stands for.

So sorry the blog is late — but at least it’s done!

And talking about the blog, it seems that we’ve got a bit of a following. I’ve been inundated with literally one e-mail from a reader. Good on yer Dan – I’ll see you at the Ballbuster this year (but please turn the heating on!) Sorry private Dan / Simon joke.

Anyway, what’s been going on this week? Well a pretty tough training week really, the highpoint (or low point) being a 100 mile ride at the weekend. Nothing too spectacular or out of the ordinary in the grand scheme of things, but this turned out to be a real cow. As they say, we had a bad day at the office.

The main problem was the rain. You know when it rains persistently – not necessarily heavily, but constant, unrelenting and strength sapping. The kind of stuff that soaks you to the skin, literally. Me and the guys (4 of us) set off at 6-30 in the morning. We’d all dressed in our wet weather gear but the bloomin’ stuff just wormed its way through. So when Mark got a puncture and we stopped moving we nearly froze to the spot. Horrible.

Although Ian wasn’t with us, he was in spirit. Imagine this strange site – 4 guys drenched to the bone, struggling against a headwind all repeating a mantra, all nearly in unison… “HTFU, HTFU, HT…..” Eventually we made it home after 6 and a bit hard hours in the saddle. Joy! Wet gear off, towelled down and…. running kit on for a 45 minute run!

By the time I got home proper, over 7 hours from leaving it I was gasping for a beer. Pity that I’ve given it up isn’t it!! Still Tetley’s hasn’t tasted so good!

See you next week – I’ll let you know how I got in Sunday’s half Ironman – another training race.

Cheers

Simon

T minus 9 weeks – “Remember there’s no ‘I’ in team -(no but there is a ‘me’ if you look close enough)”

It’s a funny old game triathlon. It’s definitely not a game of two halves played by two equal teams of about eleven men (or whatever John Motson allegedly said). After all it’s a solitary sport – all about the trials & tribulations of you as an individual battling against your competitors, the environment and the limits of your body. Right? Errrr……. not in my book….

You see, I reckon that anybody who is training for, or competing in Triathlons (especially long distance events) needs a bit of a support structure, or team, around them. For some, it will be minimal. Perhaps a husband, wife or partner who just doles out a shed load of understanding. For others it involves coaches, training partners, mentors (and mentos – lovely mints, although I must stress that other sweets of a comparable nature are widely available) and medical backup.

I’m afraid I fall into the latter category. Maybe it’s because I played team sports all my life (Rugby from age dot, and I hope you don’t think I’m showing off here, to a widely recognised mediocre standard). Whatever, I just feel comfortable having people around me. Lack of confidence? Maybe but I reckon that this particular stool (no jokes – I know which direction they’re heading here) wouldn’t stand without three sturdy support legs.

Firstly, there’s my coach Martin Yelling. Blimey you must be good is often the reaction when the words “Simon & coach” are used. Wrong. I’m bloody useless actually. But Martin is only interested in me having a world class attitude rather than a world class talent. In return I get some great training plans, the benefit of an international professional athlete’s experience (who has competed at Kona – the holy grail of Ironman’s) and, probably most importantly somebody who recognises that for me less is more (i.e. he stops me over training).

Secondly, there’s my clinical back up. In other words, there’s Vicki and the team at HeadStart. Now I’ve been with Vicki since she first started out (she sometimes says that I’m probably her oldest client although she may be taking the “P” – she probably means in age rather than in length of association). She is an absolute Godsend. There is no doubt that the amount of training hours means that your body, over time, starts to get worn down. Vix always fixes me & not just physically. As an experienced athlete herself, she understands the pressure that completion brings – and she is always there to give a fresh perspective on things.

Finally there is my family & friends. Without my family I’d be nothing. The amount of time that I’m allowed to train, the amount I spend on my kit, the amount of jobs that don’t get done, the times that I fall asleep in the evening – all are forgiven (although the amount that I spend on my bike is “repaid” in shoes & clothes – remember I’m the only bloke in my house & four girls can’t half shop). Without my mates, I’d be pretty miserable too. Those training rides would be harder work, those long runs would be boring and after all if you can’t talk rear mechs, carbon rims and clinchers with your mates who can you talk to about them (unless I go on those obscure “specialist” web sites again).

Anyway thanks to you all (sniff – I’ve got a tear forming).

In terms of training I’ve had a steady week, coupled with a big weekend just gone (80 mile bike Saturday, 60 mile on Sunday with an hour run straight off – AKA a “brick” session). The rest of the week is fairly hectic including a brick session on Wednesday, an even bigger one on Saturday (100 mile ride / 30 min run) and a 10k on Sunday.

Still it’s all necessary – we’re getting closer to D-Day, or as Stuart Pearce once said “I can see the carrot at the end of the tunnel”.

Tune in next week…

Simon

T minus 10 weeks – Right then who can’t count?

You might remember that in my first blog I started with an apology….. just in case I stuffed up. Well guess what, I’ve just cashed it in! A quick check of the calendar shows that I’ve actually got 10 weeks to go rather than 12 I reported last week (which should have been 11 if you see what I mean).

Whatever – it’s a week closer, and as they say in the Ironman community a week is enough time to increase the amount you cr@p yourself! This is getting serious!!!

Anyway, enough. Pull yourself together man! Tell ‘em about the marathon…….

You might remember that last week I talked about using the Virgin London Marathon as a training run. The objective was to give it a good go, but not to the extent that I’d be ruined for weeks after. As anybody who’s run a marathon knows, if you thrash it you can take ages to recover – literally weeks. Not a good idea with Germany creeping up……….

Waking up on race day was a strange feeling. I’ve run London a few times (amongst other marathons) and normally I have a mixture of excitement and fear – about in equal measure. This time however I felt unbelievably chilled. It might have been because I was with a couple of good mates who share the same cutting edge sense of humour and razor sharp wit as me (largely based on fart & knob jokes) or it could have been that I was under absolutely no pressure, self imposed or otherwise. After all this was just a training run.

The only slight worry was the weather – it had been forecast as being very hot, which is a pain in the butt for long distance runs (it makes you even more dehydrated). Perversely I was secretly hoping that this would be the case – it would have been great prep for Frankfurt in July. In the end though the weather was almost perfect for running – contrary to initial reports we had a heavy shower before the start (which was it for the wet stuff) and only what could be described as an average sort of temperature for the year. Pretty much bang on really.

In terms of the run itself I stuck to my plan – in that I didn’t really have one! As I said to my coach Martin (more of whom in next week’s blog) I pretty much just wanted to “rock up and have a run”. In other words I’d run on feel, always without pushing too hard and nowhere near the edge. I wouldn’t be pre-occupied with time, pace, heart rates or whatever – what I wouldn’t do is go balls out & do myself some damage. So off we went happy, relaxed, smiling and…….and well laid back I suppose. However something curious happened. I ignored my splits (i.e. the time it took per mile) for the first half and found that I had gone through in around 2:05. Slow, but it felt absolutely effortless. Mile 16 – pace steady as a rock and again much easier than mile 16 usually feels like. A quick check of my heart rate monitor showed that my heart rate (HR) was still less than 155 beats per minute, again lower than I would expect.

Mile 20, again no degradation of pace (it tends to drop off a bit as you get tired) HR elevated a bit but not much & still feeling strong. Mile 23, now I was noticing it a bit more, but that was about it – pace dropping a little but not much, HR up again but again by less than I would expect. Mile 25 – I now had to concentrate and dig in a bit but the tank was nowhere near empty.

Mile 26 and 385 yards – line crossed in 4:13. A personal best by a minute or so and I felt remarkably fresh. So much so that, for a fleeting moment, I felt somewhat disappointed! If I had pushed as hard as you should in a race I’m damn sure that I’d have cracked that elusive 4 hour mark.

The thought quickly dissipated – replaced by “don’t be a pi***ock, all went to plan & you PB,d – RESULT!!”

All in all, a good day at the office (only marred by the nightmare train journey home – thanks Network Rail you did us proud – not).
The rest of the week sees two days of rest (yippee) but it’s full on again from Wednesday.

Tune in next week for more tales of the unexpected and an introduction to “Team Simon”

TTFN

Simon

T minus 12 weeks

“Hi Vicki, yep no problem……. love to. Great. Thanks. Speak soon, bye. ………… Lily! Lily! Turn your music off! Right…………What’s a blog?!”

Whilst there’s a little bit of artistic licence in the above, I have to confess that, when Vix (Vicki Marsh, Clinical Director, HeadStart Sports Injury and Performance Clinics) invited me to write a blog, I had only the vaguest idea of what one was…….. hence clarification from my 10 year old!

I guess that’s my way of apologising in advance….. if I break any rules, fly in the face of accepted blogging etiquette or generally stuff up….. then blame Lily.

Where to start….. well from the beginning I suppose. Firstly a bit about me & what I’m trying to do….I’m 30+12 years old (that’s code for 42), married to a wonderfully supportive wife & the father of 3 great kids (all girls ranging from 10 to 1 – imagine the hormones in my house in a few years time) & I’m in training for my first Ironman (or IM as those in the know would abbreviate).

I’m sure that most of you will know what an IM is, but for those that don’t it’s a long distance triathlon & as someone once described it to me, “the Daddy of all endurance events”. The race comprises of a 2.5 mile swim, a 112 mile bike, and then a full marathon – all to be finished in less than 15 hours. It’s a big ask, and although I’ve done a fair few marathons and shorter distance tri’s it is daunting. However, if you don’t set yourself challenging goals……..

So this blog is going to be about my journey to become an Ironman. The race is on the 4th of July in Frankfurt & I’ll be keeping people abreast of my progress, fears, training & innermost thoughts (well most of them…… I might get complaints if I make some things public…).

Most people ask about training, how much time do you need to devote, what’s involved, how do you keep motivated……..& hear we have the nub of it. It’s all about the training; you don’t have to be fast. You don’t have to be talented. What you do have to be is dedicated, patient and resilient. There’s no other way to deal with 12 or 13 hours training per week for 6 or 9 months. There’s no other way to deal with a 100 mile bike ride on the Saturday (or 6.5 hours non-stop in the saddle, less pee breaks) and then a 13 mile run on the Sunday. There’s no other way to deal with 5 am starts to get a 2.5km swim in before work – and this isn’t even at the peak of training yet……!

Anyway, that’s enough from me for now – I’ll update you on each week’s progress as I go. Oh, in case you’re wondering what my training looks like this week – good news for me! A fairly light week (i.e. I have 2 days off training) because I have a long run on Sunday. These can get really lonely at times…. but I should think on this occasion the 30,000 other runners in the London Marathon will keep me company. I guess this about sums up the Ironman – the London Marathon as a training run!!

Wish me luck.