Back in the Saddle – Marbella Ironman 70.3

Its been 2 years since I raced in the Ironman World Championships in Kona, Hawaii and coincidentally it is the weekend of the race again; and I am out of retirement, at the start of another Ironman race. This time its the Marbella 70.3. Half the full distance but at 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike and a half marathon run, it is still a worthy challenge.

My feet are buried in the cold damp sand as the sun rises, it brightens up the Spanish mountain behind me. It reminds me of the volcanoes in Hawaii. The clouds almost like puffs of smoke billowing from its peak.

Memories are flooding in and tears are filling my eyes. So much has happened since I began my Ironman journey after the loss of baby Leo at just 5 weeks old to SIDs. I’ve been to Ironman Barcelona, World Champs in Utah culminating in racing the race of dreams at Kona. I’ve climbed mountains in a terrifying ultra marathon in Romania. Broken PBs in marathons. I’ve experienced loss. Leo then Dad. Beloved pets. Rosie pony and recently my cherished labradoodle and animal spirit Chunk. I miss them all dearly.

Despite the tears from the memories and emotions soaring through me, I do feel I have healed. My life now is busy and content. Relentless running and biking to mend a broken heart replaced with chilly mornings wrapped up warm watching Joel grow at rugby, movie nights with our joined up family of 7, long summer evenings with friends and cool beers at our local cricket club, occasional decadence of a lazy lie. My life is filled with happiness and love.

But maybe this contentment was getting a little too comfortable. So I signed up to a bit of pain. And with such a busy life its not just today. Its training sessions in the cold, dark and wet. Getting up at 4:30 to do a 12 mile run before the kids are up. Biking in rain and mud. Swimming monotonous lengths in Grandma’s 7.5m pool. Cramming it all in as a single parent. Daddy day care no longer having kids over night so a bigger juggling act than ever. Fielding kids to grandparents for this in and out weekend. Daisy is along for the ride. Yes its been a major endurance getting demi fit to be able to get this far.

The Spanish Ironman spokesperson is shouting words of encouragement. The tears start to run freely as I’m back in Kona. This sport makes me feel so strongly. It saved me in so many ways. Queen ‘We will rock you’ blasts out and I’m at Disney Land with my mum brothers and all their children banging on a bin in a queue to the ‘Frozen Ride’ singing along with fellow queue people singing too.

Back in the moment. Time to deliver. The race begins. We all move forward. Then beep. Its my turn to race into the swell as I begin my return to what I know.

I’m pleasantly surprised at how warm the sea is for  the end of October. The race is scrappy. Waves seem to make seeing the buoys difficult so people are all over the place. I can’t take my usual outer path as people swim across me in both directions. I can’t get into my meditative state as people are getting in my way. Im thinking about the race. I can’t see much in the water bar the odd buoy rope. I put my head down and get on with the job in hand.

The course is a long rectangle. As I swim down the bay it feels like it is going on forever… I am later to learn there has been a mistake in the course and it was set out to 1.6 miles instead of 1.2miles!! I assume there must be a current and I will gain time later.

Arm after arm. Breath after breath. Its very choppy as we turn and I swallow a big gulp of sea water. I get a bit of negative thinking about my abilities. So I focus on the rhythm and I find my happy space. As we turn for home i glanced at my watch. Fifty minutes!! This is ridiculously slow for me. One hour is cut off. I later find I’m just under my target speed I just swam for an extra 14 minutes. But for now I’m disappointed but ready for phase 2. Bike.

Transition is straightforward and fast then I’m off. First 12 miles is the hardest bit as we ascend our mountain. A gentle-ish start as we role out of Puerto Banus then onwards and upwards. Its switchbacks so not as steep as the epic rides of summers gone in the UK Peak District. Just gruelling. Hills are not my strength. My bike is heavy. My technique isn’t great and a contented life has added a pound or 2 to my physique 😉 But I give it my best. I prefer a higher gear as my cadence is slow. I grind on up. The views are spectacular. I can see the town and the sea sparkling in the distance.

We go through sparsely wooded areas, not the thick, wolf and bear infested fairy-tale forests of Romania but small thickets of fir trees. Then my nemesis makes an appearance. My fear of heights. Barriers are at the side of the road, but there is a big drop. A sheer rock face and a river of stones. Having quite deeply researched the idea of attempting Everest – before I got the freeze (unable to move through fear) on the Bucegi Mountain range, it reminds me of the ice glacier climbers traverse. A rock glacier…

I steer my bike a meter into the road. I play in my mind accidentally hitting the barrier and pivoting off my bike. My mind! Its never still… I keep crunching up. I ask a rider if his swim felt long too.

Then we’re at the top and treated to a fabulous decent. Clutching handlebars, not really in aero positions as I can feel the wind.  Then we’re out onto a  rolling highway. Again, memories of Kona flood in. But this ride is more mentally stimulating. The climbs are a bit hidden sometimes. Optical illusions make them feel flat – my speed giving the terrain away. Or watching the riders on the return leg. Then we get amazing long down hill blasts.

I hit the turning point then its more roles. I see a squashed large frog! In Utah i rode over a squashed rattle snake. Then I see a dead wild boar in the hard shoulder… A first. Its warming up but again nothing on what I experienced in Kona or Utah, but I grab a bottle of water at feed station and douse my head. I force feed myself energy bars, gels and electrolytes as I know far to well what happens if this gets out of synch.

At 43 miles I made a note sellotaped to my handle bars that we’re at the top of the second climb. Same mountain as I came in on but backward. Its a shorter climb than the initial one. Then I know it will be fun time. Twelve miles down hill. Hoorah.

I count down the miles. At 41 there’s a treat of a little downward blast then on to the top and I am flying! The roads aren’t that familiar so as I see the black and white chevron signs showing a sharp bend I slow up. I take these at 30ish mph. A little bit of imagining flying off the mountain or crumpling into the mountain face keeping me a tiny bit cautious. I wish I’d had time to practice as I’d be flat out now with experience.

Where I can see the road ahead I am on fire. I race past lots of people. My aero bike and slight recklessness in its element now. I am beaming and whooping. This is awesome!! It reminds me of Snow Mountain in St George Utah.

As we return to civilisation the fun continues. More hills. The odd bend I take carefully having come off a few times now in slippery UK conditions. Then a long slightly down hill stretch to transition. Again I’m flying past people.

Transition. My time isn’t great. Swim was down so I think, and bike was way under target. So I treat myself to a wee! Then trainers on and off I trot. Goal is sub 2 hour so I’m out, fast, for me. Then my hamstring twinges, and dreaded cramp takes a hold!! Just like Utah. Big descent no fluids, again. I walk. I stretch. No Irish saviour with a tube of salt this time. But hopefully a feed station is pretty close. For a mile I hobble. Then it relents and I trot slowly on to feed station and guzzle electrolytes and water. Then off again. Trotting slowly, but on the move. I talk to myself kindly. You’ve got this girl.

My leg is twinging so I change my run style to stiff legged and I up my cadence. I’m doing 9:30 minute miles which is slow, but its a lot faster than walking. And my heart is 150 beats. I’m breathing hard so I am trying.

I trot past people, and they move out of my way. My heavy breathing, possibly born from my ineffective natural running style, makes me sound much faster than I am. I explain this to those moving quickly in alarm.

I’m not bonking – this is when you run out of sugar. Shakes, feeling faint, erratic heart, panic attacks, loss of control of legs. Been here too many times and its not a good place. So I force feed myself at every food station. Electrolytes, gels, bananas, coke, water, water on my head. I feel sick. I run past restaurants as I trot up and down the sea front with gusts of garlic smells, normally so enticing, but making me feel ever more sick.

Fatigue kicks in and my pace starts to slow. I focus on cadence to keep things going. Running back I seem to have a better view of the sea and the beach. Boats floating far away. And I relish the view. I smile and thank God for giving me these experiences.

Lap 1 done. I can’t see anyone I know in the crowd. One lap to go and only 6.5 miles. Not the usual marathon I expect in full ironman. Its 1.5 miles to each feed station so I think about my  next ‘buffet’ and count. Its 750 counts or thereabouts for me to do a mile and a half.

Time fluctuates between being painfully slow and rushing by. As I meet the final turn point I consider a 3 mile sprint home, but then the cramp twinge keeps me in check. Let’s just get this done. I pass packed bars with people sipping cold bears. I scamper along the flat packed sand path with muddy puddles. Palm trees remind me of Kona. Its hot. But its bearable. I chat to fellow contestants. Some on their first lap so I get a boost. Then up and over a wooden bridge to the final feed station.

I up my pace then I’m running through the crowds. I hit the red carpet and notice how springy it is for the first time. Such a treat for tired legs. My daughter, friend and her daughter are in the crowd shouting me on.

Then I’m running under the Ironman arch. Ironman Marbella 70.3 complete.

And a full one in the diary for next year in Austria.

Can this Ordinary Ironman ever truly give up?