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At last weekend I took to Muscat, Oman to compete in my first Ironman event. The 70.3 is a notorious “middle distance” triathlon event, comprising of 1.9km swim, 90km bike and a half marathon to finish. Although I consider myself a semi-serious endurance athlete, I would like to have a few words whoever allowed it to be called “middle distance’. There was certainly nothing middle about it. I am in my first season of triathlons. I had geared up to a season previously but unfortunately that was curtailed before it even began due to a bit of worldwide disaster. I have thoroughly enjoyed the process of training for the 70.3 – which I think is an absolute must. During peak weeks, doing around 12-14 hours of training; not including other essential parts such as massages, chiropractor appointments and foam rolling (plus countless hours spent looking at new bikes, wetsuits and trainers online). Compared to the Olympic distance, the 70.3 was a different beast all together. Starting on Muscats famous Qurum beach the swim took o for a glorious “out and back” style swim. Swimming is by far my weakest of all the disciplines and I had decided to set o in the back third of the athletes. This turned out to be a bit of a mistake on my part as it seems my recent swim coaching had paid off . For once I actually underestimated my ability! I knew it was going to be a great day from the start. The water was as flat as it could possibly be – the day before in the practice swim there had been a slight swell which did little to boost my confidence. It was absolutely perfect conditions. There was a great omen in the first 200m… as I looked down, I could see a large sea turtle in all its glory through the crystal-clear waters gently swimming underneath me. It was the first time in my life I have ever seen one of the magnificent creatures and it brought a smile to my face. This smile quickly went away as I forget to turn my head on my stroke and inhaled a large gulp of sea water. The rest of the swim was fairly uneventful and went without a hitch. After the turn the tide was coming in, so all the swimmers were able to take advantage of a slight push from mother nature towards the beach where the crowd welcomed home the swimmers.

Unlike other triathlons where your change of kit is usually placed underneath your bike, the ironman event had your transition kit in different bags. Blue – for bike, red – for run. Easy to remember even for a mind depleted of most of its water contents and glycogen. This is transition occurred in a large tent once you had grabbed your bag. I quickly got a hold of my blue bag and managed to take a small spot in the changing tent. I had a little trouble with the removal of my wetsuit which meant the transition time was a little longer than expected – around 5 minutes. Something to add to the lessons learned to make sure and practice this for next time. I got my cycling shoes on and donned my race belt and helmet and off I went.

The cycle was by far the highlight of the entire course. Described as “rolling” hills, it featured two medium sized climbs up and out of Muscats town center. Approximately around 700m of elevation in total for the 90km out and back style course. I think the steepness of the climbs caught a few unsuspecting triathletes out. As I approached the largest of the climbs at kilometer 32 I could see around 5 or 6 athletes pushing their well-oiled machines up the hill. A triathlon bike is not known for its ability to climb hills and this made itself well known to all participants at this stage. Apart from the occasional ‘” road bike” rider who flew past on their small chainring, we were all in the same boat. The bike course was littered with incredible views, especially as the elevation increased. A wonderful view of wadi’s, palm trees and general greenery was a sight to behold. Having spent the last 2 years training in Dubai the greenery was a welcome sight as opposed to endless desert. At around kilometer 70 the climbing had ended. This led to a wonderful decent into Muscat and a very fast one too. Reaching speeds around 80km/hr. without pedaling, my legs welcomed the respite as we cruised towards the finish of the bike course. Overall, I felt in good shape – in spite of the hills – and felt confident as I moved into the run.

My First ironman!

The run! This is where things started to get spicy. I would say that compared to the Olympic distance this is where things really began to set themselves apart. As a running coach, I know most people can push through the pain of a 10km with minimal training. The half marathon is a distance to be respected – and after this one I certainly found a new respect for the distance. I set off in the first 3 km at my goal race pace. This pace for a regular half marathon for me would be an absolute cakewalk – having completed several 30 km + runs at the same pace in the weeks leading up to the Dubai Marathon. I quickly found out this was going to be far from a cake walk. Much less cake, far more walk. Within 20 minutes I could feel the heat really starting to come down. There was only a small section of shade around 400m on each 7km loop – which of course we would have to complete 3 times. There were water stations every 1.5km approximately – each with ice, water, Coca-Cola, oranges and energy gels. The temptation to stop and enjoy a tasty beverage at each of these stations grows as the distance moves on. The ice bucket would provide temporary relief to my overheated body. Everything is telling you to stop. Your brain. Your legs. Your heart. Your lungs. Everything! Nevertheless – I trudged on. Trudging in the sense that it felt like I was running in quicksand; the type you used to have irrational fears about as a child in your dreams. However, this dream was real. I was awake and feeling every step of pain. I had decided around kilometer 15 that this was most definitely the hardest thing I had ever done. It would be a miracle to even finish at this stage. 

The sun only grew hotter. I noted as I was coming round for my final lap there were still athletes coming out of the bike transition onto the run. They would have to complete 3 full laps in heat nearing 30 degrees Celsius. I literally couldn’t imagine it. I thanked my lucky stars I was nearly done. As with a marathon it is often said the athlete who takes 5 hours has a harder day than those who can finish it in 2-3 hours. I would say this is multiplied in a multi-sport event like this. The 8-hour athlete must be commended. To push your body for this length of time and keep moving should receive the highest of honors. To not give up when you know that others have been finished for multiple hours and are now probably sitting in a beach club enjoying a well earned drink; all whilst you are giving it 100% still on the course. This takes guts. Real mind over matter ability the 4-hour athlete cannot and will not ever be able to comprehend. These are the people I honor the most at this event.

I finished the race and received my medal. What a rush. I became quickly overwhelmed with emotion as I crossed the finish line. I stopped and gave my training partner Hamish a big hug as I ran up the home straight. The emotion… It was overwhelming… The emotion turned out to be the contents of my stomach. In the final straight I had drank a Coca Cola from the aid stations. I still don’t know why, considering it was never part of my race nutrition strategy. The tired mind is as dumb as a mind on 8 pints of lager. I hunched over the beach as I brought the Coca-Cola back up along with every gel and ounce of water I had consumed in the last 5 hours. 

Despite the sickness, this was an unbelievable ending to an unreal day. One I will likely not forget in a hurry. Endurance sports have a sick and twisted way of making you “eat your guts and ask for seconds' ' famously quoted in Stanley Kubrick’s “Full Metal Jacket' '. The event overwhelms you in the moment and you couldn’t possibly think of anything worse. Within 2 hours of finishing, beer in hand, you are looking up Ironman 70.3 destinations around the world and plotting ways to make your next dream become reality. Muscat and Ironman I thank you for a wonderful event! See you at the next one. Coach B