Ironman Zurich 2013
My journey to Zurich began back in January while I was nursing peroneal tendonitis in my feet. Having been thwarted by injury in a previous attempt at running marathon distance I'd decided instead to do a half iron-distance triathlon which I considered to be a similar effort. Having managed 6.5 hours in gruelling terrain and biting cold I felt a boost in confidence and was looking for the big one.
I don't know why I enjoy pushing myself this way but I love to measure myself against difficult but achievable goals, it's a deeply personal thing but I'm clearly not the only one, judging by the popularity of multisport! This was my chance, with an older child between 6th form and University, 2013 was the year I would have a babysitter at my disposal, vital with Elly working shifts if I was to get all the training I would need to do done. So it was that I found myself with the mouse hovering over the “pay now” button as I optimistically decided that the feet would soon sort themselves out and clicked the button. Confirmed entry to Ironman Zurich!
The feet did improve after I saw a podiatrist who fitted me with some arch supports and I began to increase my training, adapting a plan I found on the internet to give me a very conservative run strategy designed to keep me from getting injured again before the big day. Right away I decided to adopt a 5 to 1 run/walk strategy for all my long training runs and for the event. I only ran further than 12 miles once in the whole build up so I never knew how the marathon would go, but by the time it was time to head South I knew I could do the swim and the bike under the 10 hour cut off, thanks to my club's endurance weekend event which I'd completed the month before. I also knew I could run 13 miles when I was utterly knackered so it was only the final 13 that would be an unknown.
This was also to be the family holiday so we loaded up the car and trailer and set off a week early to enjoy some relaxed camping in Germany on the way down. I am utterly anal about leaving early “just in case” and after 43 years it has finally paid off. We had a puncture on the trailer near Dover which must have been running on flat for a while judging by the state of the tyre. I jacked it up and got the metric wheel brace out of the car to discover the trailer wheel nuts were imperial. I persuaded (hammered) it on and changed the wheel, still in time to catch an earlier ferry and then stopped in Calais to have it checked properly at a garage. No one could replace the tyre though so the next 1000 miles were done with no spare.
The campsite was crowded and noisy but the kids had a whale of a time and the local river was great for swimming. We even managed to visit a castle. The heat was oppressive though and I was looking forwards to being a bit cooler in Switzerland. A few days later another 5 hours on the motorway found us in Zurich having been robbed at the border of the princely sum of CHF 80 for the privilege of towing our trailer on their motorways. Ouch! We soon got used to the feeling, Zurich is an expensive place. However the youth hostel set in a public garden next to the Zurichsee was one of the nicest I've seen and after meeting Blakey and his entourage, it was a great place to chill, swim, use the BBQ and try to calm my rising nerves. Unnervingly it was no cooler than Germany, if anything it was hotter, regularly hitting 35 Celsius but still I was hoping for a change by Sunday.
At the race briefing I learned this was not to be. Wetsuits banned due to the heat, and a forecast 35 degrees! Mark and I only managed a brief bike recce of Heartbreak hill and after a stressful time checking our bikes into transition the night before and speedwalking back to the car fearful of the car park closing, we retired to try and get some z's.
4 O'Clock the following morning found me in the dining room tucking into a big bowl of muesli, forcing it down in spite of the protests from below. I knew was going to need it! We took the train to the start, sorted out all our kit in transition and then made our way to the beach for the swim start. By now I was fairly kacking myself with fear but managing to keep a lid on it as I stood on the shore of the Zurichsee waiting for the klaxon. Mark excused himself and made his way towards the front of the throng while I loitered at the rear. Suddenly the crowd surged forwards into the water and it was time to go. I hesitated a few more seconds and then walked to the water's edge before launching into the piranha feeding frenzy that was waiting for me.
All my years of swim technique training were as nothing in the face of the melee, it was just a kicking, punching, biting and scratching fest. Nothing malicious, just 2400 people trying to swim in the same place at the same time. I say nothing malicious, one chap insisted on doing breaststroke legs every time he sensed anyone getting close. I took several hits including one right in the face but the goggles stayed on and I continued doggedly even as a girl on my right raked her nails down my side. Arrghh! It didn't really get any better until lap two when I found some clear water briefly and I was beginning to suspect that the Swiss use long kilometres. Nearing the swim exit, it occurred to me that I was going to need a wee and that so too, probably would the other 2400 athletes. I swam out of the pack and trod water discretely and then rejoined, smug in the knowledge there would be no queuing for a cubicle in T1 for me.
T1 was relatively quick, pausing only for a gel and to top up the sunscreen before grabbing my bike and heading for the mount line. By now it was already fiercely hot, the sun hanging menacingly in the sky like a big yellow skinhead chanting “You're going home in a ****ing ambulance” (this is typical of what pops into my head during a race). The first 30k of the bike are flat, around the top of the lake so it was onto the tri bars and time to rack up some speedy miles. I blasted past the first two aid stations, carrying 1.5 L on board as well as my own gels with my Garmin prompting me to eat every 30 mins. At 60k I stopped for refills as the heat was building in intensity.
This wasn't “ooh a cold beer would be nice” hot, this was Ice cold in Alex hot and if you've seen the film and remember how they wound that Bedford truck up the sand dune using the starting handle then you've an idea how I felt dragging the Scott up “The beast” a long hairpin climb that I knew I'd be seeing again later. All the while we were serenaded through villages by locals having street parties complete with brass bands, beer and a big guy in drag. People with hoses would spray you down with cold water as you passed and a camaraderie developed among the riders as we all wore our names on our bibs.
The Egg is a long uphill drag that seems to go on forever with no shade or shelter to be had and was already claiming scalps, even on the first lap as less fortunate athletes began to fall at the wayside. There was a fast response from the medics though and it didn't look too serious yet so the rest of us pushed on. The aid station at the top was a good place to take stock before a fast descent where I learned that you should always check the tops of your new bottles. I almost lost all my water on the way down due to a loose lid, that would have been the end of my race but fortunately most of it was still in the bottle, enough at least to make the next stop.
Then it was back down to the lakeside and around to “Heartbreak hill” an entertaining little climb where the crowds go mad, it's the closest thing to Le Tour I've ever ridden where the crowds part before you waving madly and screaming in your ear as you pass. The Hot Chilli support crew were out in force and on form, as I rounded a corner a deafening scream went up “SIMON!!!!” alerting the others who responded with raucous cheering which they kept up all through the day every time I passed. Lap two was much the same but for the increasing heat which forced me to stop again at the top of the Egg to appraise my progress and make sure I could cool off, taking advantage of a young lad with a hosepipe and a shady spot to eat a power bar till I felt a bit more normal.
Coming into T2 I was elated, I knew I'd posted a great bike split and I had more to give in my legs, but I was so hot that I took a detour to hose myself down at a bank of taps in the corner before heading for my run bag and the change tent. I ate a cereal bar carefully as nausea was beginning to become an issue but it stayed down with a generous glug of water and then it was on to lap one of the run. Getting my first coloured wrist band after 5k was a fantastic feeling, I had 8 hours available for the run so I just stuck to the plan, run 5 mins, walk 1 min and take extra breaks as needed. I knew I had no time pressure so I concentrated on survival, with my mum's words “ we just want you back in one piece” ringing in my ears. And it worked. As I grew ever more fatigued I just kept buggering on, watching my wee colour to gauge my hydration status, taking what I felt I wanted from the aid stations be that orange quarters, water, Isostar drink, power bars, gels or salty bouillon and taking care to let it settle and avoid retching (a constant threat).
With hearty support from the sidelines, as much from strangers as from friends and family spurring me on it was only a matter of time before I reached the finish. Some maintenance was called for in the later stages of the run. I had my arm bandaged where my tri suit had begun to rub a raw spot and at 35K I was forced to stop and get my right knee strapped up where it had simply become too painful to go on, my ileotibial band playing up again. Patched up, I carried on and claimed my final wristband. An encouraging slap on the back from someone in the crowd alerted me to the fact that I was developing some nasty sunburn. Damn you Rieman P20 (it doesn't do what it says on the tin!)
With 500m to go, I stopped hobbling and began to run properly, the pain disappeared and as I turned the final turn and saw the finish arch in front of me I accelerated towards the line. As I crossed in just under 14 hours, a weird thing happened to my face. It sort of crumpled into a strange goofy grin. I'd flung my arms wide in celebration but the photo does not resemble a weary grizzled warrior so much as Ade Edmundson doing Jazz hands in the credits to Bottom, coupled with my daft face it's not a picture I'll be hanging on the wall. I was OK, I'd done it in my target time in the most extreme conditions in the 17 years since Ironman Zurich began.
Many others had succumbed to the heat, Mark made it in well in front of me, but he had a terrible time and was severely dehydrated. All that was left for me was to try to eat some pasta (not successful) Have one sip of a celebratory beer, shower, collect my kit and bike and get the train back to the hostel with my family.
I couldn't have done it without their wholehearted support, all that babysitting, all those long Sunday rides and early morning starts. Late evenings running home from work etc.. they are the ones who took up the slack so that I could put in the hours. Will I ever do it again? Maybe, but no time soon. It's a huge commitment but I'm proud of myself and it was definitely worth all the pain and money!
I remembered passing Candice, a determined woman I met at the Endurance Weekend. Afterwards we looked her up and were delighted to see she made it in 15:59:11 !! 49 seconds to spare over
226 km now that's a good story! Candice, you are an Ironman!
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. A great tale, and congratulations on your achievement.