Breca Swim Run

A race that caught my eye last winter was the Breca Buttermere “Swimrun”. It had appeared on my Twitter feed accompanied by some incredible photographs of neoprene clad athletes running though the majestic summer landscapes of the Lake District, diving into crystal clear waters, bathed in summer sunshine.

It looked like an epic adventure. I was sold, quickly set about finding a suitable partner (Swimrun is raced as a pair) and sent off an entry.

Fast forward some 6 months and I found myself arriving in Buttermere to torrential rain and menacing grey skies. This wasn't what I signed up to! I really have been a one man weather hex this year!!

 

Where's the sunshine!

A few hours later my partner in crime arrived in the shape of Paul Lunn. Paul is an awesome Ironman athlete.... He's raced many Ironman competitions, but is yet to complete one in 10 hours...

But that's only because he's too busy completing them in 9 hours!

Yes, Paul's personal WORST Ironman performance is still comfortably under 10 hours. Safe to say, in terms of my race partner, I would not be found wanting.

I don't think Paul would mind me saying that our swimming ability is pretty similar, but at best described as “fair to average”. Our run speed though is half decent and also very closely matched, rarely separated by more than a handful of seconds in races. We would be losing our usual weapon of a strong bike leg, but this race was more about the adventure of it all, stepping out of our comfort zones and having a bit of fun. In short, I couldn't have hoped for a better partner.

We spent a leisurely afternoon in Buttermere before race day, dodging the downpours, getting our bearings and dealing with kit checks etc before an early supper and bed.

My sleep was somewhat fitful, due in part to the relentless pounding of the rain on the roof of the T5, but also because my mind was racing. This really was a step into the unknown for me. I would be running a total of 38 kilometes in the high fells and swimming 6 kilometers. Split over 17 different stages ranging from 400 meters to 12 kilometers taking in some 2000 meters of vertical accent.

And all the while trying not to get dropped by Lunny!

Race day dawned and nerves made way to excitement at the realisation that most of the 100 teams gathered at the YHA for the start were in the same boat... totally clueless about what lay ahead.

Everybody cut a comical dash in their aquatic attire. The race started with a run section, but here we all were, decked out with wetsuits in various states of modification, swimming aids, hats and goggles.

Everybody ready for the off

Not a clue!

 

There were of course a handful of experienced teams, both from the UK and overseas. They were easy to spot. Minimal kit, most using hand paddles the size of dinner plates (something novice Swimrunners would be ill advised to attempt). But also simple things like having selected the smallest possible number bib (and cutting away excess material) – clearly a little tip learned though experience and something I vowed to to do next time as I toed the line looking like an undernourished NBA player! I worried about how my number bib would affect my swimming as, frustratingly, this was not something I'd tested in training.

Paul and I had also opted for a fairly minimal approach. We were using Swimrun specific wetsuits (short arms and legs, front zipper, very flexible). We both had a pull buoy, strapped to our leg (pretty much de-rigueur among Swimrunners), medium sized hand paddles (upon which Paul had written all the section distances) and some gels stashed inside our suits. The remainder of our nutritional needs would be met by the 5 checkpoints around the course – a decision I'd later regret.

Pretty soon, the casual banter was broken by the sound of a starting horn and the assembled throng sprinted off in the direction of Buttermere lake. Paul and I had recce'd the opening run section, knew it featured a few gates and narrow paths, so opted for a strong start to avoid any log jams.

A strong start required

We arrived at the lake shore in about 2^nd or 3^rd place, quickly spun our pull buoys into position, donned goggles and dived it. We held our position for the opening 750m swim section. There was a little confusion as we exited the lake and we settled into 4^th place for the next run.

Impatience soon got the better of us and we took back 3^rd before our next swim, another 700m, this time in the choppier swell of Crummock Water.

And then came the first real test...

A 3.5 mile “run” leg featuring the 350m accent of the Rannerdale Knots. This was a cracker and we were quickly reduced to a “power walk” as running became futile. We could see the leading 2 teams also marching ahead and seemed to be making in-roads on 2^nd. A brief search for direction arrows at the summit and a high speed decent back to Crummock completed this leg. It had taken us almost 40 minutes! But we had certainly moved up on 2^nd place.

 

The drop off Rannerdale Knots

A quick re-fuel at Checkpoint 1 and we now had a long swim section of 1120m. The hand paddles and floats were working well, but not well enough to offset the drag from our tent like number bibs and soggy running shoes. This longer swim leg, took us right into the choppy swell in the middle of the lake, it was a real workout, taking almost 20 minutes. But I was loving it, leading the way and getting the occasional comforting “tap” from Paul on my feet to let me know he was still there.

2^nd place had extended their lead so it was clear they were swim specialists. We dragged ourselves onto Crummock's western shore and gave chase. 2^nd place were soon in our sights and, with over 8 miles to run on this section, it was only a matter of time before we'd have them.... or so we thought.

Another swim stage complete

We didn't spend much time at Checkpoint 2, keen to keep moving as best we could. A few miles later after a steep downhill section the trail directions (marked with “eco friendly” sawdust arrows) had completely dried up... We were at a T-Junction on a road, with no direction arrows.

This was not good.

We reached for our map to try and deduce where we were and where we'd gone wrong. It soon became clear we'd just have to retrace our steps to the last direction arrow, almost half a mile back UP the hill we'd just run down!! Aghhh!!

Reaching the top of the hill from the other direction, the turn we should have taken became clear. A small piece of bunting hidden in a bush! Though a gate and once again into a field with plenty of options but no direction arrows. We ambled around for a few minutes, with two more teams joining us in the search. Then, I spied the soggy remains of a sawdust arrow!! Ah ha!! This way Lunny!!

We were off and running once again, ruing our misfortune and envious at those teams with better course knowledge (or better eye sight) than us!

But how many places had we dropped? During this section, the sun made a brief appearance and our body temperatures quickly escalated. We removed our swim hats and ventilated our front zips. This leg also had it's fair share of climbing and Checkpoint 3 was a welcome sight with about 1.5 miles left to run. We were informed that we were the 5^th team so refuelled quickly to complete the stage and begin our next swim.

There then followed a flurry of 3 shorter swims and 3 runs, accompanied by some proper Lake District rain. At times, during the swims, visibility was reduced as the rain lashed down. Crummock water was stirred up into a choppy swell which threw us around like corks.

These shorter legs epitomised the essence of Swimrun for me. Moving through incredible landscapes, transitioning from running to swimming with barely a pause for breath. Taking on whatever the environment could throw at us.... It was truly epic.

The last of these shorter runs bought us back through our Campsite in Buttermere to the cheers of Lunny's lads Ethan and Isaac. A long (1000m) swim bisecting Lake Buttermere West to East was next.

It was at this point that I felt my energy levels start to ebb. Having been happy leading out most of the swims so far I was now struggling to hold Lunny's pace. The hand paddles seemed to double my effort and the pull against my number bib was relentless. Thankfully the swim exit coincided with Checkpoint 4, and offered me the opportunity to gorge myself on Coke and jelly babies...

Lunny was feeling pretty cold at this point so we pressed on. Almost immediately I felt queasy. It transpires that switching repeatedly between vertical running and horizontal swimming does a pretty good job of churning the guts and moments later my stomach decided to empty itself.

Great....

I now had easily the toughest section of the entire day ahead and my energy levels were at rock bottom, with nothing in my system to raise the needle off empty.

I plodded on in a dizzy haze – running on fumes.

The climb from the Northern shore of Buttermere to Robinson was relentless. I think I now know what purgatory feels like. I'm not sure my lack of energy made a huge amount of difference. The extreme gradient reduced all teams to a death march on this section, frequently resorting to hands and knees, pulling at fence posts and tufts of grass to make continued upward progress. The climb took over 40 minutes.... and it's a shade over a mile long... It was crazy hard.

The "Robinson leg" overlayed onto a library image - we had no blue sky on race day!

Looking back to Buttermere below lifted my spirits. Pairs of little yellow dots could be made out crossing the water..

I'd been taking one some energy chews as we climbed and nearing the “top” I'd started to feel my energy return. At least one team had come past us on the climb, maybe two? My memory is a little hazy. But now I was running again.... Kinda.

From the top of Robinson, it doesn't exactly become plain sailing to the Honister Slate mine. We followed the ridge line against a block headwind and were constantly plunged into cuttings before tackling false summit after false summit. The final climb to Dale Head finally gave us views of the Slate mine and Honnister Pass beneath us, but he descent down was no picnic.

Steep, rocky and slippery it demanded complete focus. We'd caught and passed one team on Dale head so were keen to push on and maintain a gap. Lunny was throwing caution to the wind. My quads were now pretty battered and struggled to stay with the pace.

I passed a lone walker with his dog. “What's that you've got on your leg?” pointing to my pull buoy. “That's my float for when I'm swimming” I replied as I ran by.

“Swimming as well?”... “Sod that” I heard him say. He must have thought we were barmy... he probably had a point.

Lunny and I both took a few tumbles on this section before we finally arrived at the slate mine and the final Checkpoint. We stopped for a quick re-fuel and were joined by the team we'd passed earlier. We really needed to shake them off so pressed on to try and build a gap.

This year the organisers had opted to send the route straight down the tarmac road of Honister pass since the recent rains had turned the “off road” option into a raging torrent. Steep, downhill Tarmac on trashed quads is unpleasant enough, even more so when your hanging on to your partner's run pace for all that you are worth! And then, as if things weren't bad enough, the heavens opened with icy hail! We both looked to our right, at the Dale head ridge now shrouded in grey cloud. We spared a few thoughts for the poor souls up there now. I pulled up my wetsuit zip and knuckled down.

About 2.5 miles later, we were back at lake level. “200 meters until your next swim!” shouted a lone supporter. We had built a good gap to the team behind us and, as we neared the final swim entry point, we could make out a team ahead, halfway though the final 600m crossing. So while our position was now unlikely to improve, it looked safe.

The final swim leg

Paul and I enjoyed this last swim back in the calmer waters of Buttermere. The long run section had afforded our arms some recovery and we attacked the stage with gusto. Swimming side by side in perfect synchronisation. With the finish almost in sniffing distance, it already felt like a celebration.

The final swim leg was soon dispatched and we knew our day was almost done. A mere 1.3miles of lake-shore trail and a final short climb separated us form the finish.

Not wanting to risk losing a place at this late stage, we pushed on along the picturesque, flowing trail. In and out of trees, though a tunnel and passed checkpoint 4 once again. Glancing to our left we saw teams still making their way across the 1000m Buttermere swim leg. They would still have the entire 7 mile Honister Pass run loop to complete. A loop that had taken Paul and I just shy of 2 hours!

Before long we were back on familiar terrain. As the last half mile retraced the first. We crossed the line back at the Buttermere YHA side by side. Were were applauded across the line, 6 and half hours after starting and in 6^th place overall. We were greeted by race organiser Ben with two bottles of local beer.

Not alcohol free....

Proper beer...

It never tasted so good. 

Thanks to an awesome partner Paul Lunn

So a few notes about kit....

Paul and I both used the excellent Zone 3 Evolution Swimrun Wetsuit. Short legs, VERY flexible, arms you can cut down to your own preference, front zip for easy ventilation and more pockets than you can shake a stick at - It was fab and performed faultlessly.

We both used Inov-8 X-Talon 200's. This is their "Obstacle Racing" shoe but made the perfect footwear for Swimrun. Roomy, quick draining, super grippy - perfect.

I used Gococo socks. They have some special tech that make them perfect for Swimrun. Fast drying, warm, no blisters.

Inov-8 X-Talon 200's and Gococo socks

We both opted for pull-buoy and hand paddles. If you want to race one of these things, make sure you do LOTS of training with hand paddles before race day.

And finally, your race partner. You are gonna be spending 6 hours plus with somebody in a highly stressed environment. Pick somebody as closely matched to your ability as possible. Hopefully somebody tolerant, dependable, with a spirit of adventure and good sense of humour. I couldn't have picked better!

Cheers Lunny!

And finally a word about Ben and the Breca team...

What an incredible job they have done with the Breca Swimrun. This is not your normal corporate multi-sport event. They have put on an epic event that harks back to the early days of multi-sport. A true test of endurance. Athlete against the environment. Challenging cut-off times. No frills. Just thrills.

You won't find a trade expo and you won't find any ego amongst the competitors.
 
You get real beer at the finish and access to literally 100's of the best race photographs I have ever seen (all free).

Ben and his team have managed to put on an event that strikes the perfect balance between competitive sport and epic adventure.

I had a complete blast and can't wait until next year!
   

Ironman Kona 2015

As I bobbed around in the tropical swell off “Dig Me” beach I had to metaphorically pinch my self....

Was I really here?

Had I really made it to the start line of the biggest show in Ironman triathlon? A start line I'd never experienced yet somehow felt weirdly familiar from the many hours of TV coverage and internet live feeds I had consumed since I was a teenager.

Was that pipe dream of one day racing Kona now, finally, about to be realized?

Although crowded amongst over 1500 other eager athletes, their sounds were muted. The water felt alien to me. Warm and clear. That familiar sense of foreboding that I normally associate with Ironman swim starts was weirdly absent.

A gap appeared between the line of swimmers in front of me affording me an unobstructed view of the line of orange buoys stretching off into the distance. The famous turn boat, some 2k into the distance was, for now, hidden by the swell.

A peace washed over me.

And then, over to my right, on the famous Kona Pier.... the cannon fired.

The canon fires!

Rewind a year to the finish line at Ironman Tenby where I'd finally managed to bag a qualifying slot for the Ironman World Championships in Kona. I'd finished that race completely drained. I'd grown to accept the physical demands of Ironman racing and training, enjoy them even. But the mental pressure had begun to weigh heavy. After several near misses over a number of years, the drive to keep coming back, to keep trying, was waning. That damn “Kona itch” was dangerously close to becoming an unhealthy, all consuming obsession. But now I didn't need to worry. I'd bloody done it.

In that sense at least, the emotion of finally gaining my official qualifying spot at Wales was one of complete and utter relief. Now, at last, I wouldn't have to go through that season long cycle of training and qualification ever again.

For me, Kona had always been about the getting there. Qualifying to race there was, in many ways, enough. Racing Kona itself was the reward, the icing on the cake – or even the cherry on top.

But with a year to prepare, the racer in my head had started chattering. Maybe I could make a good fist of this thing? A top age-group finish? An Ironman PB perhaps? 2015 had been a good season for me with a number of age-group wins and a smattering of Tri England silverware. Sod it. Maybe I need to race this thing!

A battle of ego versus reality ensued.

No racer's ego takes well to having it's ass handed to it. But reality bites and the harsh reality of Kona is that most of my competition would be as good, or far better, than me. I really could not expect to trouble the “pro-bothering” sharp end of my age-group. I know my limits.

So my ego struck a deal. Head out to Kona, make it an incredible experience, race the course, take on the challenging conditions, have a strong run and finish smiling, sufficiently content to finally move on. 

Back to the race...

I swam the opening 400m strongly, and maintained my position in the melee. I'd elected to start on the extreme left of the bay which I hoped would give swimmers room to spread and form groups. And so proved to be the case. I felt so liberated by the warm water and lack of wetsuit. I was able to work hard, and genuinely enjoyed the straight swim out to the turn.

The start - surprisingly civilised

Although I was swimming amongst MANY more people than usual, I rarely felt impeded. At one point I got the impression the entire field was moving forward as a boiling frothy mass of arms and legs – but never once did I find myself whacked, kicked or fighting for breath.

At a little over distance (2100 meters) I reached the “Body Glove” turn boat and after a bit of argy-bargy was soon heading back to shore inside 30 minutes. The congestion never seemed to ease but everyone was moving along at a similar pace. At times it felt like a swimming peleton.

At one point I felt like I maybe wasn't working hard enough so tried to bridge across to the next group, only to drift backwards the moment I pulled out from the swimmers in front of me. So I resigned myself to staying put and conserving some energy.

The return leg presented some heavier swell and and after over 4000m I was glad to be running up the famous steps to the Kona pier. My Garmin showed 1:05. That'll do donkey, that'll do.

Climbing the famous steps onto the Kona Pier (that's me in the red Zone 3 skin)

While not a super swimmer, I'm used to T1 being quite sparsely populated in Ironman races. Running into the change tent on Kona pier I was greeted by what looked like a triage in a busy A&E department! Bodies / kit / equipment / volunteers everywhere! A complete war zone. I found a small corner of real-estate and began quickly preparing myself for the bike leg. A volunteer jumped to my aid pulling up my speed-suit from around my waist and clearing up the equipment I had sent flying. I was soon running around the perimeter of the packed transition area (plenty of bikes left thankfully!) before grabbing my bike and exiting to a deafening roar from the crowds supporting.

The ride starts with a short 5 mile out and back section on the Kuakini Highway before heading up Palani Road to the Queen Ka'ahumanu Highway. From the start, Captain Cautious was calling the shots. I dialled in 230 watts and that's where I stayed, only allowing my power to drift up 20-30 watts on the climbs. People were flying past me like they were in a sprint race! The words of the super experienced Kona Age-Grouper Declan Doyle echoed in my head...

”Cautious athletes do well at Kona”. That would be my mantra for the rest of the ride and, in fact, my entire day.

At various points in the ride my reserve was tested. Friends Stu (Anderson), Mark (White) and Nico (Van Der Westhuizen) cruised by me looking focussed and in control. Brian (Fogharty) and Declan (Doyle) shot by me like I was stationary! Others, seeing the “GB” on my skin suit gave encouraging cheers as they sped past. Glancing at my power meter, I was where I needed to be so, for now at least, my powder was staying dry.

Onto the Queen K - Holding steady

There really isn't much more to say about the ride. The winds at Hawi (Har-vee) were gusting, but not as bad as I had experienced in the weeks previous. I had a bad patch at around 3 hours where my power really seemed to ebb. This is familiar territory for me in Ironman racing and I know it's usually a passing phase. Today though, it coincided with the hottest part of the course when my Garmin recorded 39 degrees C for a number of hours. I felt like I was being fried. I was dousing myself with cold water from the feed stations. I'd tip it through the vents in my helmet and it would feel warm by the time it ran down my back! The wind offered no more cooling effect than an industrial space heater.

Like a car running it's air conditioning robs power from it's engine, so does the athlete trying to cool themselves. Precious blood volume normally put to use carrying oxygen, is directed toward the skin for cooling. You simply can't maintain the same power in extreme heat as you can in the cool. This is where some pacing flexibility is required. The athlete doggedly following their power meter will likely come unstuck.

For the majority of the return leg, I decided to go with what my body was telling me and largely ignored the numbers on my bike computer screen. 

True to form, power returned with 30 miles to go and I began overtaking a steady stream of athletes, many of whom I recognised from their earlier, overly ambitious, high speed fly-byes. As the head winds strengthened, my more cautious approach started paying dividends. I even felt a twinge of excitement at the thought of tackling the Marathon... So I kicked on back to the pier to sneak under 5hrs 20mins for the bike.

Trying to stay cool on the return leg

Swinging into T2 back at the pier, I dismounted and launched my bike at a volunteer who scurried off with it to transition. For me, those first few steps off the bike are telling. My legs felt good but man was I hot!! I had been battling the stifling headwinds for what seemed like an eternity and it had been some 20 minutes since my last feed station “shower”. Safe to say I was feeling pretty cooked.

Into the carnage of the change tent I was quickly into running shoes, cap (with sun blocking flap at the back ) and a home-made cooling scarf which I planned to fill with ice at each aid station. Once again, the volunteers jumped to my aid applying an ice cold towel to my head and providing me with some cold Gatorade – man it had never tasted so good!

The run starts with a straight 5 miles out along Ali'i drive, a dead turn and a run back to Kailua Kona. There was not a cloud in the sky, little wind and the heat felt oppressive – almost heavy. However, having filled my scarf with ice I was able to settle into a pace of 7:15 per mile which felt manageable – at least for now.

Heading out into the furnace on Ali'i drive

I have to say, the legs felt great, but then they very often do in the opening miles of an Ironman Marathon. I felt tempted to up the pace, but experience has taught me this feeling NEVER lasts! So I kept to my pace and held steady at 7:15.

A few miles in I spotted the distinctive pink kit and tanned limbs of Tom Ward. Tom and his lovely wife Loren had spent a good bit of time with us in the weeks before the race. Tom, had burst onto the Ironman scene and shown impressive natural ability over the distance. I knew I'd been happy if I found myself in the same zip code as him on race day. A shot of adrenalin surged through my body and I felt my pace increase. Whoa..... easy tiger!! No rush I thought. I'd let Tom come to me.

A mile on and I'd made the pass. We exchanged a few words of encouragement. Now Tom is one of life's good guys, but I really felt this was the attitude of most of the athletes racing Kona. Never have I experienced so much encouragement and respect from fellow competitors. It's unlike any other Ironman race I have ever done where competition regularly verges on aggression. This “mutual respect” is one of the many aspect that makes Kona so special.

Still over two miles from the Ali'i Drive turn-around I crossed Charlie (Pennington) and Paul (Burton) running back toward Kona. Both had come here to race hard. They had grasped the nettle and were looking imperious in the heat. Both would go on to record incredible results. Charlie would be denied an age-group win by a heart wrenching 6 seconds, but could surely take solace in the fact that, in doing so, he'd beaten both Frederik Van Lierde and Ben Hoffman. THAT'S how good you need to be to podium in your Age-Group at Kona.

Heading back to town the heat was now really making it's presence felt. Once again the temperature would prove to be my limiter. I had taken the decision to walk each aid station to ensure I was taking on sufficient fluids (Coke + Gatorade) and to refill my ice-scarf which would last 1 or 2 miles at best. This method ensured my body temperature stayed in my “safe zone” (Thanks for that advice Matt Malloy).

I was dropping ice blocks the size of my fist into my skin suit only for them to melt away inside a mile!

The aid station re-fuels bought my pace down on the return to Kailua. Although hot and tired I felt, if the Coke and Gatorade kept going down, there should be no reason why I could not maintain 8:00 per mile, with a few extra seconds at each aid station. This pace was still seeing me pass a steady stream of athletes who had rolled the dice on the bike and were now paying the price.

Heading back to town I spotted Mark heading out to the turn. I'm not quite sure how that happened as I thought he was up the road ahead of me? I later learned that he had been taken out on the bike, picked up a few grazes, lost some nutrition, making a tough day, even tougher. But this is Kona and, while you still have limbs that function, you soldier on to the finish no matter what the course throws at you!

Once back into town it's back up the Palani Road, a nasty little rise at this point in proceedings. Spotting Nico half way up was just the impetus I needed to keep running and make the pass before turning onto the “Queen K” . Now I had a mind numbing 7 mile stretch of highway before turning off into the Natural Energy Lab. Thankfully some cloud cover had rolled in and temperatures were perhaps a degree or two cooler. “Cool” is a relative term of course!

Queue next “out of body experience” as my mind wandered to the many times I'd watched the sports greats running along this very stretch of tarmac – and here I was, doing the same. At times, it almost felt like I was watching myself running. I felt incredible, like I could increase my speed to 5k pace! And then, moments later, I would be snapped back to reality, metering out my effort like the precious commodity it had become.

Although amongst other athletes, the Queen K can still feel lonely

Athletes were stretched out into the distance along the Queen K, some running, others barely moving, but each one serving as a carrot to keep me moving forward. I passed a broken looking Declan – wheels well and truly detached. I passed Tom McGlashan also broken. I admire the guts of those guys who gambled on the bike to race as hard and as fast as they dared. On another day it might have come off, but today, in this heat, I was glad I had taken the more cautious approach. Kona truly takes no prisoners and it doesn't respect an athletes history over the course.

Heading along the Queen K I had a front row seat for the pro race. Frodo was in a league of his own. Raelert was flying, as was Dave McNamee (fastest run of the day). Daniela Ryf seemed to be miles clear of her nearest rival. Others seemed to be in various worlds of pain.

Before dropping into the Natural Energy Lab, I saw Charlie heading for home still looking in complete control and giving plenty of the Pros cause for concern. Paul also looked well on top of things, my gap to him had not diminished. I had completed two training runs in this most desolate of places. Both had been in crippling heat. Today though, the air seemed cooler and rather than draining my energy, it seemed to be recharging me! At the turn, 2 miles in, Tom W seemed to be practically in my shadow! Although I'd passed him inside the first few miles of the run, he'd hung on doggedly and was not letting go. Hunter had now become the hunted and this served as terrific motivation to keep trucking and minimise time spent in the feed stations.

The climb back out of the Energy lab is not particularly steep, but at this point in the race it certainly tests tired legs. My speed dropped for two miles, but once out and back on the Queen K I really felt homeward bound. It's 10k back to town from here, with only a few rolling gradients to contend with. I began ticking the miles off with increasing positivity.

Out of the Energy Lab and heading home

My speed remained steady and I soon had the top of Palani Road in my sights. Although my approach to this race had been cautious, I still wanted to put in a performance I could be proud of. For me, on the more testing courses I tend to favour, that has always meant sub 10hrs. Today though, I had decided to race very much on feel, as the conditions were likely to decide what I was (or was not) capable of. With that in mind, I'd largely ignored my watch all day. However, as I reached the 24 mile marker, I stole a glance at total race time. 9hrs 45minutes. 15 minutes to cover 2.2 miles including the rise to the top of Palani Road. At any other time... a doddle. Today? Not gonna happen.

I wasn't remotely disappointed though. I was actually pleasantly surprised with how close I'd come to my target time, given the severity of the conditions and the slight over-distance in the swim. It also meant I could truly enjoy the remaining miles of this incredible race.

Down Palani Road and we hung a left to put a short loop in around town to emerge back on Ali'i Drive for what has to be the most iconic end to any Ironman Marathon.

I was running on air.

400 meters from the finish

I sped along, for a precious few moments, feeling no pain or fatigue. Since starting the run, I had moved up 253 places, 46 of which were in my age-group. I crossed the line elated with a 3hr 30minute run split and feeling 100% corpus mentis. I was immediately gathered up by two volunteers who stayed by my side and escorted me through the finish to the athlete recovery area. They were most concerned for my well being and needed some convincing that I actually felt ok.

Total race time: 10:04:10 I'll take that.

So in the cold (wet, rainy) light of day, how did I feel about my race?

The swim could really not have gone any better. It's my weakest of the three triathlon disciplines, but the non wetsuit sea swim really played to my strengths. I can even say (whisper it) that I enjoyed it. Well, it's not every day you get to swim in a giant tropical fish tank!

The bike. This is where it gets tricky. The bike has always been my strength although perhaps less so over the Ironman distance. I've learned to play the waiting game. To my mind, a super fast bike leg just don't count if you don't back it up with a solid run.

On race day, I rode to power and perceived effort. Having analysed the data (geek alert) the ride was completed at an Intensity Factor of 0.7. So in other words, I rode VERY cautiously. While this enabled me to run well, it begs the question, could I have gone harder on the bike without impacting my run? Well, that's the million dollar question and, with the benefit of hindsight, I can probably say “yes” I maybe could have given a little more. Maybe...

But any fool can be wise after the event and that strategy could so easily have backfired, like it did for so many. Personally, for my first (and, who knows, maybe my ONLY) Kona, it was not a risk I wanted to take, but “chapeau” to those who did. And massive congrats to the ones who pulled it off.

The run, I have to say was great. My restrained bike leg, plenty of calories and fluids, sensible pacing and the ability to keep my temperature in check with my various cooling strategies delivered a solid marathon performance. As expected, it was the temperature that limited my running speed. Although at times I felt I had more to give, any increase came with a dramatic increase in body temperature which this Englishman was ill equipped to accommodate.

Ultimately, for me, my time and position didn't matter. I'd put together a performance over a course, and in conditions, that I am not best suited to and come through it all relatively unscathed, with a time, not all that far away from my best for the distance.... and with a huge grin on my face.

A post race beer...... or two

Did Kona live up to my expectations? You bet your ass it did. And then some.

For sure the race is about as special as Ironman gets, but what makes it so special is somewhat intangible. I'm sure, in some part at least, it's due to the event's history, the epic landscape, the unique (read challenging) conditions and the 1000's of volunteers and supporters. But it's also due in great measure to the attitudes and respect of the athletes who race there, whether pro or amateur. I guess that's borne from that shared knowledge of what the vast majority of us have been through to get there.

I consider myself incredibly privileged to have competed on this most famous of Ironman stages. That I was able to share the experience with my wife Claire was something I thought we might never pull off. Claire battled through a really tough day, lacking top end on the bike. Tenacious as ever Claire dug in and, once onto the run, moved up over 350 places to finish strongly in 11hrs 47 minutes. She's one tough cookie.

Claire was able to share her finish with American Pro Meredith Kessler (who had started 40 minutes ahead of her). Clearly, tough days happen to the best, but it's how you deal with them that is the true mark of the athlete.

Claire finishes a tough day in fine style

There is another Shea-Simonds who I need to thank. And that's my Mum Janet. Without Mum, Claire and I would be living in tip, buried under a tonne of unwashed training kit and dirty dishes and most likely starving. In another life I'm pretty sure mum would have been an Ironman. She coped with the heat on race day better than most and was on her feet all day, cheering and taking photos. She was, and is, amazing.

My coach Jack, does an incredible job. His uncanny ability to get me exactly where I need to be come race day has stopped impressing me now - Because it happens.... EVERY time. Jack - you are a legend.    

Finally there is no way we'd have made it to Kona without the support from our team “Racetime Events” and it's boss (and dear friend) Johnny Nicol.

Also to our wonderful sponsors:

Sketchers Performance Shoes Skechers Performance 

Giant bikes Giant Bicycles 

Zone 3 wesuits  Zone 3 

USN Performance Nutrition  USN UK 

Fast Forward Wheels  Fast Forward Wheels 

Wattbike  Wattbike

The Inferno Triathlon - Racing into the thin air...

Race reports are something I try to keep to a minimum, but when I come across a race that I consider to be "a little bit special" I think it's worth sharing...

For Claire and I, more than previous years, 2012 was always about having fun with our racing. We felt a break from chasing Ironman times would be beneficial as we'd planned plenty of that for 2013 in our attempt to qualify for Hawaii!

While the pressure would be off – the challenges we set ourself would, however, remain tough – it's how we roll!

As such, racing would be varied and include marathons, ultra-races, some tough 70.3's, Olympic distance events and the National Cross Tri. But perhaps our toughest race would be a crazy multi-sport event set high in the Swiss Alps.

And so it was, on August 5^th, we packed up the T5 with road and mountain bikes and headed to Europe for a 2 week road / training trip which would culminate with the awesome “Inferno Triathlon”.

Since this trip was doubling as our summer holiday, we had planned to visit a few of our favourite locations and get in as much swimming, biking and running as possible – the race in that sense, would be just another day training as we had planned no real taper.

Week one saw us tackle some classic French Alpine road climbs including the Col De Joux Plane, Ramaz and the climb to the Ski station of Avoriaz all in the area around Morzine.

This was a great opportunity to acclimatise to the heat, altitude and the physical demands of climbing for hours at a time! A number of specific Wattbike sessions prior to our departure had meant that the climbing legs were ready for whatever greeted us!

A week - Riding around the Alps...

As well as riding, we also found the many trekking tails hard to resist and completed some incredible runs in the mountains around Samoens as well as a wonderful, solitary swim in the crystal clear waters of Lac Mondriond.

Amazing Running..

And swimming in glacial lakes...

Towards the end of the first week, we ventured to Switzerland, stopping off in Sierre to compete in the Classic Seirre – Zinal mountain race. An epic jaunt over 20 severe miles and 2200m of climbing with a break neck 800m descent to the finish in Zinal. We both put in strong performances finishing in 4:00 (Claire) and 3:37 (Duncan) – a great little training run!

A few days later we were back on the bikes taking on the awesome Swiss passes of Grimsel, Fukar and Susten in an amazing 80 mile ride that possibly ranks as one of the most beautiful we have ever done.

The incedible Grimsel and Furka passes

So not quite your normal long course triathlon taper week - but as we'd said, this trip was all about having fun and not taking the racing too seriously. In any case, we'd been getting plenty of sleep, and lots of wonderful Swiss meat and cheese – so the legs felt pretty good as we prepared for Inferno race day a few easy days later!!

The Inferno is unique in that the bike section is tackled on both road and mountain bike. The event starts with a 3000m point to point swim from the shore of lake Thun near Interlaken to Oberhoffen. From here athletes pick up road bikes and cover 90k and well over 2 vertical kilometers of climbing over the Grosse Scheidegg to Grindlewald where the tarmac road runs out. Here competitors switch to the mountain bike for another 30k and further 1000 meters of climbing over the Kleine Scheidegg and then a white knuckle descent though the Ski station of Wegen. Then it's on to Stechelberg for the final leg – a 25k moutain run – straight up 2500 meters to finish atop the famous Schilthorn mountain at around 3000m above sea level.

The Inferno Triathlon Race Profile - at least the sswim was flat!

So having spent the entire day before the race busying ourselves with the logistics of getting all our kit to the four corners of the Bernese Oberland – we hit the hay (well the T5) for an early night.

Our day started at 3:30am with our customary pre-race breakfast before a moonlit stroll through the darkness to meet the coach that would take us to the swim start in Thun about an hour away. We arrived in ample time to complete our pre-race rituals and then made our way to the start.

The swim is a straight line though not particularly well marked. The sun was still to rise and the flood-lit castle on the distant shore of Oberhoffen was our target.

Before long we were under starters orders. Another appealing aspect of the Inferno is the relatively small entry field (300 odd athletes). This, and the strict cut-off times, meant that the normal bun fight that occurs at long distance swim starts failed to materialise and, once the gun fired, we both quickly found clear water.

The 300 strong swim start - only the brave need apply

The water was warm, clear and very calm – at least for the first 1000m. I struggled slightly with navigating as the organisers had deemed it unnecessary to provide intermediate marker buoys along the point to point course. I resigned myself to just finding a rhythm and let the numerous canoe marshals and the swim pack guide my way.

I felt ok in the water – not great, perhaps due to the fact that swimming had been limited in the preceding week. I gradually found my rhythm and settled into a comfortable cruise - I wasn't in much of a rush to be honest! The swell increased as the swim progressed into the lake. In my isolation, my mind started playing tricks on me and I imagined I was at the back of this elite field having a really bad swim! This sense of foreboding continued until, with 200m to go, a familiar pair of goggles drew up alongside me. It was Claire! It's incredible how often this happens in our races. Training together means that we are really in tune with each other's pace and we often find ourselves sharing the same patch of water among 100's of swimmers!

fairly uneventful swim...

This lifted my spirits as Claire has been swimming brilliantly (and quicker than me) all year – so this meant my swim had been pretty good after all.

We excited the water in 52:29 (Claire) and 52:58 (Dunc) ran into T1 together and began putting on sufficient kit to protect us from the strength of the sun which was now making it's presence felt. I stole a march on Claire and headed off on the road bike section.

I was lying in 43^rd position in the Vets (35-44) field and Claire was 7^th in the women's race.

me leaving T1 with Claire in close quarter (top left)

Onto the bike and now I felt at home! The riding felt easy on the smooth roads in the clean air. We were both quickly into the climbing and gaining altitude over several small but testing climbs. Small is a relative term of course – small by Swiss standards, pretty big by UK standards but nothing compared to the beast which awaited us at the end of the road bike section.

Our training in the previous week and key sessions on the Wattbike (using the magnetic resistance setting) had served us both well and, happily, we were both feeling strong.

We had both decided to take a cautious approach to the ride – knowing how easy it would be to overcook things over such mountainous terrain. I decided to treat the first 40 miles as just another tough training ride – but then work for the 15- 20 miles or so over the final climb. I was trying not to get goaded into racing too soon. Sadly the course was dogged with large draft packs (the road bike is supposed to be non-drafting), but my strategy meant I was happy to let them go. I had a feeling I'd see many of them again on the final climb. I was certainly not going to involve myself in any drafting – or pull the cheats along.

Meanwhile, Claire was also feeling strong and enjoying the first part of the ride through the amazingly picturesque surroundings.

After 3 initial testing climbs, the mid section of the ride rolled along, hugging the lake shore. A turn away from the lake then took us onto the final climb of the Grosse Scheidegg. The severity of the bike course is bought home by the fact that total altitude gained is similar to that gained at the Ironman Lanzarote – those guys get 112 miles to fit the climbing in – we only got 60! Steep does not begin to describe the final accent and I was never out of my compact 27 ratio. Indeed, I was often left praying for more gears!

By now, the sun was overhead and adding to the effort – as was the altitude. But this is where I had planned to start working. So I got my head down and settled in to a solid effort which would see me climbing through a furnace for the next 1 hour 30 minutes. I was now coming to realise why this race was called “The Inferno”

Feeling the heat - but loving it!

The road, got steeper and the sun got hotter, but I was in my element. This is what I had been doing for the past 10 days and I felt great. I was picking off riders steadily. My road bike was perfect for the terrain and I passed many riders struggling on TT bikes on the steep incline.

Once we crested the Grosse Scheidegg, it was time to buckle in for the seriously high speed descent to Grindlewald. I class myself as a reasonable descender but even I struggled to match the speed of some riders who seemed to be benefiting from local knowledge. The decent was twisty and technical with enough rough patches to to insure you could not afford to loose focus for a second. For most of the descent I was locked in a battle of nerves and skill with a French rider as our pace seemed to increase with each hairpin.

Claire decided that discretion was the better side of valour on the decent and was happy to concede a few places in order to arrive at T2 in one piece – a decision I always support as there is only room for one loony in our relationship!!

The MTB - Waiting at Grindlewald

I flew into T2 after a 3:59 bike split having moved up 9 places in the Vets race – not bad for somebody out training! Ha ha !! I was quickly onto my MTB and tackling the 15k climb of the Kleine Scheidegg.

Claire arrived with a 4:49 bike split. By playing it safe on the descents she was now in 25^th position in the women's field but knowing her conservative approach would pay dividends on the run.

The mountain bike section is one climb – but it's a biggy. 1000m straight up over loose shingle and forest tracks. The heat was now quite oppressive and the reduced speed of the MTB meant the cooling effect was reduced. Sweat was coming off me in rivers. The route passes into trees periodically, but the majority of it is completely exposed and sauna hot!

The climb was unrelenting. At no point did the gradient ease for even a minute. As we neared the summit, it became clear we were well into the winter ski areas – with the pistes being easy to identify even in their naked state. The last section must surely have been a black run as everybody was reduced to pushing for 10 minutes or so.

I reached the summit of the Kleine Scheidegg in just over 1 hour 30 minutes – 6.25mph average!But now things were gonna get fast! Once again, time to disengage brain and let rip. This time, a 15k, snaking fire road descent to Wegen. I do love my mountain biking, and really, while steep, the terrain was not technical. Not by UK trail centre standards at least.

It felt great to be tearing down the mountain at speeds I'm more used to on a road bike! It also seemed that the vast majority of riders were more at home on tarmac and I was able to pick of a few more places.

Claire continued to climb strongly and proceed with caution on the loose descent – her race would start once the final leg began!

The last section from Wegen to Lauterbrunnen did actually get quite technical as open fire roads were replaced with steep rooty single track. I continued to pass rider after rider struggling on the technical terrain – many pushing. Oh the shame!!

A final 4k road section bought me to Stelchelburg in just over 2 hours for the MTB section. I had continued my move through the field and now placed 27^th in the Vets race.

Claire arrived in 2 hours 44 minutes and now also placed in 27^th position.

The run actually breaks you in quite gently with a pleasant 4k trail section along the river to Lauterbrunnen. But the fun doesn't last long. Once the turn away from the town is made – the slog to Murren at 17k begins. We had been told that most of this section was run-able so I set myself the challenge of doing just that. This is where mental fortitude took over and it was simply a case of putting one foot in front of the other and trying to maintain forward momentum. There were occasions when the terrain simply became too steep to run economically, at which point a “power walk” became more energy efficient. They key was to just keep moving, whether running, power walking or crawling on hands and knees!

The ski town of Murren was packed with supporters and the narrow roads through the centre were run-able even though the legs pleaded otherwise. Once beyond Murren though – things got pretty crazy. The steepness of the terrain was the sort you experience for maybe a kilometre or two in the steepest parts of the Peak District – we had 8k to go and it just didn't let up!

Running through Murren

The heat was now fierce. We were now well above three line and into seriously high altitudes. Runners were spread over the mountain in various states of fatigue – some reduced to a death march , some managing to muster a decent hike – but nobody running. Not in this terrain... Not in this heat... not at this altitude.

I forced myself to break into a trot whenever the gradient reduced be even a few degrees – but these moments were few and far between and often left me gasping for breath in the thin air. This was survival – but Claire and I were both surviving better than most.

Claire pushing into the thin air

Our cautious approach to the road bike section and effective fuelling throughout the day were now paying dividends. Everybody was suffering – but we were suffering that little bit less.

The last few kilometres were some of the most amazing I'd ever run – almost otherworldly. 3k from the end you could see the summit and hear the Germanic ramblings of the race organiser over the PA – it was surreal in the extreme!

And so it was after a 3:33:13 “run” split I crossed the line, outside the famous revolving restaurant, atop the Schilthorn some 10:29:53 after starting. I had passed a further 9 Vets during the final section to finish 18^th in my category. Interestingly I'd have placed 11^th in the Senior category (under 35)

The Inferno then – clearly not one for the youngsters

Meters from the finish...

Meanwhile, Claire was continuing her determined climb up the mountain – overtaking a steady stream of fading men and women.

Claire battling on...

At 12:23:27, Claire finished after a terrific 3:56:24 run which moved her up 11 places to 16^th in the girls race.

The Crazy race finish!

There can be little doubt that mile for mile, hour for hour, the Inferno is one of the toughest multi-sport races around. It's severity is not to be underestimated yet it seems many do.

In total 14 racers from the UK took on the challenge......

But I think only two made it all the way to the top!

Bringing home the bacon for the UK

All in all, an incredible race. If you decide to take it on, make sure you respect the cut-off times - but the views are worth it!!

amazing views...