That’s not to say I’ve not had some fun this year, just at times it’s been a bit different…

A few weekends away meant missed tri-training, but no lack of fun!
Bruno Flake (VS 4b) Roaches Skyline, Staffordshire

And now it’s October… one of the least likely months for a desire to train to emerge. Leaves are falling, the weather is getting colder, the nights are drawing in; but there it is, undeniable, The October Training Stoke.

This phenomenon has occurred in me every year since 2007, and this year it’s stronger than ever, there’s more inspiration for it this year than there has been in others, but we’ll start with the first and most obvious source of The October Stoke.

The Second Saturday in October

Kona baby!

Kona Swim Start
From Triathlon.Competitor.com

This was the 6^th year I’ve stayed up until the early hours of the morning watching the event live on-line. This year’s coverage was great, and the race was the most exciting I’ve seen. For me the only thing that took away from the event was that my curry arrived late and slightly cold; Kona Viewing is a highly complex undertaking, I installed myself on the sofa at 1730 on Saturday and peeled myself away at 0330 Sunday morning.

I had this conversation with a few people when I was back at work “You watched a race for 10 hours? How can you watch something that takes 10 hours?” to which I replied “How can you watch a 90 minute football match? And I wasn’t just sat there, I had a couple of breaks along the way; I had to do a beer run, I had to go downstairs to collect the curry.”… I admit it, it is a bit weird, but I love it!

The Letter

What else has spurred me on this October? Well, I received a letter from Virgin London Marathon; I entered the ballot in 2007, and 8, and 9, and 10, but in ’11 but I missed the date which also meant I wasn’t in the “5 rejects and you’re in” rule any more. I was more than a little surprised to see this letter:

Be careful what you wish for – a London Marathon spot

Yep, I’m finally in. Now, the all important question is how fast can I do it??? Time will tell, but I’d like to think if all goes well <3:30.

The Race Announcement

What was I going to do for the 2013 season, London Marathon’s a good start but after April…? I’d been thinking about returning to the TDS, and while I was interested in it didn’t make me think “oh wow, THAT I want to do”. I wanted to do another IronMan too, and was considering a few races around the UK but someone had a better idea…

IronMan Canada is one of the oldest IronMan Branded events outside Kona, and having lived in Whistler in BC for about 6 months to ski in 2001/2002 I rather like Canada. Well, this year it was announced IM Canada would no longer be in Penticton, which had hosted it for 29 years. I had assumed there wouldn’t be a replacement, since there is a race in Mont Tremblant, Quebec.

My “Best in the Biz” cap from the 2001-2002 season at Whistler Blackcomb

I was wrong. From a shortlist of three Whistler was selected… Last Thursday entry opened at 8pm BST, and I found myself sat on the sofa thinking “should I?” 42 minutes after filling in all the registration forms and having received some prompting from friends, I concluded I should. I hit the big red button* and the 16 digits did their thing…

IN!

*It was actually a small green button, but that sounds less exciting!

It’s not escaped my notice that IM Canada has 100 Age Group Slots for Kona… It’s also not escaped my notice I’d need to race about 2:30 faster than I did last year in Bolton to qualify… but that’s a different question.

So there we have it, I now have Training Stoke again, and it feels so good!

17:20, 25th August 2011 – Chocolate biscuits, Water, High Spirits and threatening clouds

I was on my way to somewhere called Fort du Truc. I remember being excited about pee-ing a lot… This was a relief as I had been on the cusp of getting quite dehydrated. I had got through the highest point of the race, I’d got through the longest descent. I’d got through the first time I wanted to cry… I had no idea how bad it was still going to get.

When I think back, I know how bad it got.

I know how much of a struggle it was.

I know that some of the aches and pains I occasionally get a year later probably stem back to it.

I can vividly remember sitting on a big rock in a col screaming at the top of my lungs at the piercing wind and the people who set the course, and nearly crying.

I remember hating it.

I remember hating myself for taking it on.

I remember how epic seeing the sunrise was.

I remember an old woman carrying bread walking faster than me in Les Contamines after 24 hours on the go.

I remember deciding I wouldn’t quit, but if I didn’t make cut-off, then it wasn’t meant to be.

I remember being in agony trying to get to the last checkpoint in time.

I remember crossing the finish line, the woman asking if I was OK, and swearing I’d never do it again.

I remember it all so clearly that just thinking about it gives me a lump in my throat. But I also know that next Thursday (it’s running a week later this year) I will be envious of those who are out there giving it their all. 

Nothing I’ve done since then has come close to being the challenge.

 I want to do it again.

I want to sit in a tent in the col du Joly and cry because I don’t know if I can make the 9km to the next cut off in 3 hours because it’s an opportunity to really find out what you’re made of, and how often do we do that?

When I sat down thinking “I’ve not written anything in a while, I should write about what I’ve been up to” I didn’t expect to write the above… it just came out. I have several race reports to write, did I mention that the Nuffield Sprint Tri I did had its results corrected – 2^nd in Age Group baby! I had a nightmare at UK 70.3 and a pretty good race at Todmorden off the back of some non-standard prep the day before. I’ve been climbing quite a bit, oh and I rode to Paris, which was… wet.

Jeez… can I really do it again?

Always a good opportunity for “the feet photo” – do I really want to do this again? Will they do this again?

*So the race wasn’t actually a year ago today, it was 25/8/11, but it feels like it

Pre-Race:

I’m a big fan of camping on the site, it’s got a good atmosphere, everyone’s there for the same reason so it’s quite quiet at night and it’s just a short stroll to the race site. If you’re staying somewhere else then be sure to give yourself plenty of time to get parked etc. on race morning. I camped off-site at my first race, in 2008, and had a problem with the car getting to the start, then a queue to get into the car park… this was all on top of the adrenaline that was already coursing through my veins!

 It’s worth noting that on-site it always seems to be cold overnight. It may be June, it may be lovely and warm during the day, but at night it’s FREEZING, bring a blanket!

Registration has always been pretty straight-forward. Don’t forget your BTF licence if you’re a member, and be sure to check in the race documentation if you need some form of ID with you… I don’t know what the specifics are with that, I need to check too! You’ll get a whelming collection of bags and sheets of stickers and flyers for free stuff.

While these seem confusing it’s actually pretty simple…

The stickers go in the various sticker places, they say where to put them, just pay attention and it’ll be fine.

I like to set out all the stuff I will need for the swim, all the stuff I’ll need for the bike, and all the stuff I’ll need for the run. The swim stuff, including tri-suit, gets put on race morning, so goes in the WHITE bag. Everything you want for the bike ride, goes in the Blue Bag, since the only things that can be left on your bike are nutrition and your bike shoes if you go for the flying start the blue bag always seems the most full. The Red Bag is your run bag; trainers, a hat, it’s pretty simple.

I ALWAYS over think this bit of it and have a small panic, but simply lay out everything you’d take to any race, and then stuff the relevant bits of it in the relevant bags… there’s nothing to it 

Expo…

They sell stuff there. There’s all kinds of things from bikes to shoe laces; if you find out you need something on the day (like the tyre levers I lost in the back of my Dad’s car in ’08) then it’s there, but I wouldn’t recommend relying on it.

Phone signal…

On site there is none!

Practice swims…

There are two, I think, one on Friday one on Saturday. You have to be registered to get to swim, but I’m a firm believer in doing it.

Why? Well… what’s the water going to be like? If it turns out my wetsuit has shrunk (or, more likely, I’ve got fat) there’s time to do something about it.

Most importantly you get a feel for landmarks to look for in the swim, since although the buoys are big, they’re surprisingly hard to see from the water, if you can spot a landmark on the shore it’s easier to swim for that then the buoy just “turns up” 

Gear Check-in…

Is pretty straight forward; turn up at the tent, they’ll tick you off! Put your bike where your number is on the rack, then take your bags to the relevant hooks. It’s worth noting at this point exactly where your bags and bike. I’ll probably do several run throughs, coming from either the swim exit or the bike exit to exactly where my stuff is. I’ve lost time grabbing the wrong bag in the past, I don’t want to make the same mistake again.

Don’t over pump your tyres at this point! I think it was in ’09 that we were sat in the briefing tent and during a quiet bit there was a very loud bang from the bikes… everyone looked over panicked as they realised the sun had just warmed someone’s tyres beyond their capacity. Make time to pump them up on Race Morning!

Briefing…

This will be my fourth time at the briefing, I don’t expect to find out anything I didn’t know before… but if something had changed, I’d feel like a real idiot if I didn’t know what it was because I didn’t bother to turn up! It’s up to you.

Race Day!

Arrive with plenty of time to spare, you never know what might go wrong, and be sure to bring plenty of warm clothes as it can get pretty chilly. The race start used to be at 6am and there were issues with the fog on the lake, in ’10 they’d moved it back to 7am and that seemed to solve the problem, but be prepared to wait around for a bit. Ask yourself, if you’re waiting around what are you going to want? For me it’s something to drink, something to munch on, and to be warm enough.

Swim!

The walk down to the lake is quite long and it’s on grass… if you have someone spectating arrange a spot with them so you can wear a set of flip-flops or something down to the water’s edge and then pass them over, it’s going to be a long day and you don’t want to start with cold feet. Having said that, it’s something I’ve never actually remembered to do, so it’s not that big a deal.

Heading down to the swim in ’10

In my first two years I hung back a bit, the result was I was at the very back of the swim start, and I didn’t have long to get used to the water and to warm my wetsuit before we were off. Personally I’m happier getting in early, having a swim warm up, getting comfortable in my suit and getting a good spot on the start line. For me that’s towards the front on the outside; I’m confident enough in my swimming now that I don’t mind a bit of a tussle at the beginning and being at the front I have a better chance of getting someone’s feet to draft the way round. Do what you’re comfortable with though, if you’re going to swim in breast-stroke and you want clear water, hang back.

This is the front of the swim start in ’10, it’s pretty exciting to be in!

T1…

It feels like the longest run in the world up from the lake to T1. Apparently it’s 400m, but coming out of the water I find my heart rate will spike if I sprint up there, and it’s hard to walk with the crowds supporting you, and knowing that everyone that passes you is a place lost! I tend to jog up, and be happy… one leg down, two to go.

T1 will likely be chaos, bodies everywhere. Grab your bag, you know where it is from all that planning… Find a spot and make it your own. If you can find a helper so much the better, get your wetsuit down below your waist, lie on your back, give them the arms, and get them to pull!

Be sure you have everything you need, I run a quick check; helmet, glasses, number, shoes, go. Dump your wet stuff in the bag (trying not to tear it, they tear very easily!) drop the bag with the others, shout thanks to the helpers and get to your bike.

Bike…

Before the race it’s worth having a quick spin up from the T1 exit to check what gear you’re going to be in. There will be a lot of people around, and this is not the place to try the shoes-on-the-pedals mounting for the first time. You need to be sure that when you start off you can spin up the first incline, because it will feel like everyone around you is a moron and can’t ride in a straight line. Hold your line, be defensive, but be aware of others.

The beginning of the ride is pretty chaotic, but once onto the first main road is opens out and isn’t an issue again. They’ll have warned in the briefing about the difficult spots on the ride.

Someone put this video together which gives a better indication of what the bike course is like than I can, so it’s worth watching. YouTube Link.

Remember it’s two laps. That means you head to the lake once, then turn right, the next time you’re heading to the lake it’s back to transition… on my first year there I was tired and cold by this point so got confused and thought I had to do another lap. I was ready to DNF, but was SO happy when I realised I could just head back to Transition… how little I knew about what would follow!

Be sure to check the weather forecast, and put some thought into what you’re going to be wearing. In ’08 there was hail at one point on the ride and I wasn’t prepared for this mentally or with the right kit. In ’09 and ’10 the weather was lovely!

Pacing is something only you can decide on, in ’08 a regular said to me “if you think you’re taking it too easy, you’re probably pushing too hard” which wasn’t a bad mantra for getting around the course. It is a tough bike course, but people tend to focus too much on the difficulty of the bike and not enough on the difficulty of the run, if you go into the run with your legs more tired than necessary it’s going to be uncomfortable!

T2…

By now I tend to find I’m not thinking as clearly as I should be and in ’10 I grabbed the wrong bag at T2 which cost me some time, and probably my goal for that year (5:45), I was 645, and I picked up 654’s bag.

Sitting down to put your shoes on is one of the nicest sensations in the world, but getting up to run again isn’t, so I’m a firm believer in not taking too much time there. It’s generally not as busy at T1, so there’s a bit more space to do your thing, and the volunteers have a bit more opportunity to help you out. Be sure to say thanks as you head out onto the run, safe in the knowledge that you’re now 57.2 miles into your 70.3.

Run…

There tends to be a pretty big crowd on the exit of the transition tent, it can be easy to get carried away with the excitement that you’re “nearly there” and run too fast. My main piece of advice for the run is pace lap one relatively easy, get a feel for what it’s like and what you’re like then go for it!

There’s no denying it, this run is HARD. It only has one flat bit, the out and back on the dam, and at times there’s not much crowd support. The first big hill comes after you pass the start/finish line and you’ll have to run up this three times, each one will seem worse than the last, and don’t be ashamed of walking – most people do.

It was here I was told “don’t worry mate, if it was easy it would be called Football”.

After taking the first lap pretty easy I intend to gauge how I’m feeling, if it’s anywhere above mediocre (and to be honest that’s as good as I could hope to feel by then) I’ll pick it up for lap 2. Lap 3 is all about just suffering through it, there’s nothing to lose, and when you make the turn onto lap 3 you’ve only got about 4 miles to go. Think how many times you’ve run just 4 miles in training… it’s time to “put yourself in the hurt box and fight your way out”.

To make it more interesting for me, I try to engage some of the crowds, see if you can get a big cheer, you pass a lot of them twice per lap so can get a bit of a following if you’re prepared to make the effort. At the IronMan in Bolton last year, on my final lap I was thanking groups I’d had a laugh with and one of them commented “thanks for being the most polite athlete out there”; I don’t know what I did to achieve that, but having a joke with them on each lap made it easier for me, and hopefully made it more enjoyable for them.

Oh, and smile for the finish line camera!

Post Race…

This is how broken I looked after my effort in 2010, and I still missed my goal by 3 minutes

There’s a place for a massage, there’s food, but for me the #1 thing to do is get some clothes on! You’re going to have worked really hard by this point, you’ll be covered in sweat, Gatorade, gels and it’s really easy to start to feel cold. I like to keep moving, to stay on my feet, trying not to seize up. Cheer some fellow competitors in, and get some food/drink on board. After a hard effort I really struggle to eat anything solid for a while, so like to get a recovery shake down me.

Every year I mean to pack a toothbrush and some toothpaste since by this point I’ve eaten nothing but sweet stuff for quarter of a day and my teeth are a horrible furry mess. Every year I forget to do this and lament it!

Enjoy your post-race experience. Don’t be shy about what you’ve just done; you’ve propelled yourself over 70.3 miles, tell people about it with pride.

If you see me around say “hi”, I now have a beard that’s not in the above pictures, but I’ll be racing in a Natives.co.uk dark-blue Tri-Suit which to the best of my knowledge is the only one there.

If you’ve not had enough of my experiences at Wimbleball, you should have! But there are race reports…

2010 – Link to Tri Talk

2009 – Link to TriTalk

And it’s actually been going quite well.

Thames Turbo Sprint May 7^th 2012

Returning once again to the location of my first triathlon. Last year was the first time I broke 21 minutes for 5k, and I was reasonably happy with my performance; this year I expected less, since my training hasn’t been as consistent, and the week before included two nights out and a wedding… I was feeling below par!

There were several errors on the way to this race… If you know A route to a race, but it’s not necessarily the BEST route – stick with what you know, don’t get lost going to the race and then not be able to find somewhere to park. If you get lost, you have to put your bike together in a rush…

If you put your bike together in a rush, be sure to check it’s been done properly because you WILL lose time when the back wheel comes off under heavy braking!

Fortunately the temporary loss of a wheel, the fact I had to re-tie my shoelaces (twice!) and not being able to draft anyone in the swim, I actually had a pretty good race! My total time of 1:10:26 for the 426m pool swim, 21k cycle and 5k run was good enough to place me in 5^th in my age group, though I was disappointed to miss out on 4^th by ~40 seconds, and 3^rd by 2 minutes… if the wheel had stayed on and the laces had stayed tied I might have got my first AG Top Three…

Finally – even in a rush to get to the registration, try to make note of where you parked the car; walking around for 30 minutes after the race trying to find it isn’t fun!

A week later…

I went to Gran Canaria for a week’s training camp. I intend to write a bit more on that at some point, and it’s possible benefits but in summary it was HOT. Really, REALLY hot. 47 degrees (C) one day. That’s HOT. Especially for a bearded guy who likes the cold. Total time in the saddle was 26.5 hours, around 350 miles, and 12,000m of climbing.

This was the descent where I learnt a lot about descending, how to handle the bike on the great surface and to trust that the bike will slow down, and will stick to the corner. Climbing it the next day… that was the 47 degree day… that sucked. (Click for full sized image)

I got silly tan lines, and did I mention it was quite warm?

A week after that…

I spent the week thinking “ooh, my legs are still sore”. I swam quite a bit but every time I tried to run I just discovered my legs had nothing; they felt empty, so on Sunday when I was in for my second sprint tri of the season and my first open water swim, I was not all that optimistic.

I bought new equipment; an aero-helmet, aka a “pointy hat”, or a “twat hat” and ignored the rule of “never try anything in a race you’ve not used in training”. Since this race was primarily a training exercise of equipment I want to use at UK 70.3 I thought it would be OK… it was.

An aggressive position on the start line lead to a (for me) really good swim, I drafted pretty well, and even on the sections where I had no-one to follow I felt I was swimming quite well… the end result was exiting the water 13^th in my wave, 5^th in Age group. A swift T1 put me on the bike in 7^th/2^nd where I didn’t feel comfortable on the bike for the first two laps (of four) but soon I was motoring along and felt pretty happy, drinking regularly as it was hot and late in the day, and I came off the bike in 5^th/1^st (yep, fastest bike split in my Age Group) but as soon as I started to run I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty!

Lack of recent running, tight hip flexors from time on the bike, a stomach sloshing full of liquid (some intentional, some lake!) made the first 2.5k was uncomfortable… eventually my legs loosened up and I started to get some speed in for the finish passing several people but I would expect ~21 minutes for the run, not almost 24!

This was good enough to finish in 8^th in wave, 3^rd in Age Group. The chap who came first in the age group was particularly impressive – 14 minutes for a run split is either a timing error or this guy should sort out his average swim/bike splits and he could do well!

Next:

Coming up this weekend I’ll be helping some friends on a mission to get a good time at a bike event (not technically a race, but they’re aiming for as good a time as possible) called The Tour of Wessex; 107 miles the first day, so it will be interesting to see how my legs are after another week to recover from Gran Canaria

Then it’s just 2 weeks until UK 70.3.

Onwards…

PS – still collecting for our London to Paris ride for Scope… http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/team/CitiL2P24

When I first told people I was going to do a triathlon it was a sprint distance – specifically a 426m swim, 20k bike, 5k run, I was asked if I was doing it for charity. I didn’t have any idea if I could make it through the swim, let alone the rest of it, so I said no because I was worried I’d not survive!

When I stepped up to Half-IronMan I said the same thing, “1.2 miles is a really long swim!” But by the time I’d done one, trying to raise money to do another felt a bit like saying “will you sponsor me to go to work?” Half IM was just the distance I raced, it doesn’t seem like that big a deal. Then there was the Ultra Running, again it was the question of “I don’t know if I can do this” and the same went for the IronMan.

Each time people asked “What Charity are you doing it for” and I said none, I felt guilty that I wasn’t… by now I’ve run a long way, and I’ve done an IronMan, what was going to be the challenge that would seem worthy?

On 9^th January I received an e-mail from a colleague Claire that read:

Saw this and thought of you – Should be a breeze compared to what you normally do!

 I scanned down… Oh, it’s just another London to Paris bike ride, I’m not that interested in… Hang on… 24 Hours? That sounds quite hard… NOW I’m interested.

I immediately wondered something I’ve been asked many times before. What’s wrong with me? Why do I hate my body? All things I can worry about another time. I promptly signed up for the ride.

Scope - click on the logo to find out more about them...

It’s a fundraising event for Scope; if I’m entirely honest I didn’t care what the charity was or what they did, I just wanted a supported ride to Paris in <24 hours. There are six of us from work who signed up and we were lucky enough to have Emily, the event organiser from Scope, come to visit us in the office to tell us a bit about how the event worked, and some of the work that Scope do. 

There was one story that sticks in my mind, something I take for granted; they gave a young woman called Kate a means of communicating for the first time. The first thing she said?

My name is Kate, not Katie, and I am a vegetarian

So thanks to this device she was now able to tell people her preference in name and her preference in diet. My decision to try out being Vegan for January to see how would work out seemed a bit churlish by comparisson! My motivation shifted, my interest in raising money was sparked; here we had the opportunity to help a charity which was changing people’s lives in a very real way.

But I won’t lie, I’ve mentioned before that I’m hyper-competitive and while it’s not a race, I want to be in the first pack rolling into Paris! Although Claire was of the opinion that this “should be a breeze” for me, I’m certain it won’t be. Running through the night at The TDS was the hardest thing I’ve ever done; when think back to being in a wind buffeted tent at 4am crying into my soup, I can’t think of a time where I’ve felt worse but at least with running there’s the option to stop and have a sit down; cycling requires continuous concentration.

Sore feet from ultra marathons... what will be sore after 24 hours on a bike?!?

While running left me with sore feet, I have no doubt that by the time we reach Paris all the points where my body comes into contact with the bike will hurt. I expect to have the horrible sensation of being stupidly tired, but also completely unable to sleep. To feel nauseous and hungry at the same time. I don’t even want to consider the muscles in my back and neck!

I imagine the post-event fatigue will have the same weird effects it did after the TDS; I’ll be an emotional wreck, and analysing every stage of the ride and my equipment. I’ll finish thinking “never again” but at some point it will seem like it wasn’t so bad.

 All of this is going to suck, but it’s part of these events, part of the challenge and this time there’s an added motivation; I love the idea of helping someone called Kate not be called Katie. No matter how bad it gets riding in the dark over Northern France, it’s insignificant compared to the struggles that some people experience daily.

If you want to contribute, it would be greatly appreciated if you could check out the link below.

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/team/CitiL2P24

PS – many people have Just Giving accounts already which makes that very simple, but we’ve opted to use Virgin Giving, for the simple reason their fees are less to the charity, so more of what you give goes to Scope. Oh, and don’t forget Gift Aid if you’re eligible. Thanks!

At times I wonder what does he have, that I don’t? What is it that he’s done that’s made the difference? I’ve put it down to many things along the way. He’s lighter than I am. He’s been cycling for longer. He has a nicer bike.

All these things are true, but none of them are the point. While I am putting the deficiencies in my own performances down to these excuses, he’s training. When it’s raining, dark, cold and windy… he’s training.

Get ready for possibly the worst analogy in history...

A bottle of Elderflower cordial I recently purchased said “enjoy hot” I tried it out, I did not enjoy it hot, it was rank hot. It’s delicious cold with sparkling water though. This is an odd tangent, I think you’ll agree, but here’s the point. I think that the Elderflower cordial people decided they needed to make a drink that was nice hot, and rather than going out there and finding something that’s nice to drink hot, they just re-labelled what they already sold. They didn’t put in the effort to make something new and better, made the beverage equivalent of saying “His wheels are nicer than mine”.

(He does have really nice wheels though.)

If I’m to be the best athlete I can be, I need to stop talking about swimming cycling and running better. I need to actually put in the work. In the same way Elderflower cordial is not delicious hot, I am not a spectacularly gifted athlete. There’s nothing wrong with accepting that and just doing what I do, and getting some OK results, but it’s never going to be a delicious warm beverage, and as long as that’s what I want then I need to put in the effort…

“Buy the ticket” Iain, get out there and train, because to quote the great Mark F. Twight

Talk – Action = Zero

When to start this? It’s 9pm on a Saturday night, but I need to be true to myself, if I don’t do it now, I’m not going to do it. So my Garmin’s finding a satellite to link up to, and I’ve found my headtorch. I’m off for a run.

Good night.

Morning

I lay awake on the bed in the hotel staring at the ceiling. I knew the alarm was going to go off at any moment, and that later in the day I was going to regret having not got more sleep. Nothing I could do about it though so I got out of bed and started thinking about breakfast. It felt very early. It was 3:30am, it was very early.

I stood in the bathroom for a bit looking at myself in the mirror wondering what the day was going to hold. I also spent quite a while wondering if I should shave. After wasting some time there I finally remembered I had to get on with eating breakfast!

Porridge - as tasty as it looks!

I made a bowl of instant porridge with boiling water from the kettle and a liberal application of hope that it would come somewhere close to cooked without a microwave of simmering for 2 minutes. It did, and went down quite well.

I had a second bowl, a couple of bananas, a chocolate chip brioche and half way through the second my body did what it always does on race morning and announced “NO MORE!” I forced the rest of that one down, retching slightly as I did so, and sat on the side of the bed happy with what I’d just eaten, but thinking about the trailer for a film called COLD.

“What the F**K am I doing here?”

 Trailer Here, it’s amazing though the F-bomb’s dropped early! http://player.vimeo.com/video/23336972

My parents had come to support me, and they soon knocked on my door. I don’t really remember what we talked about; I suspect I was a bit quiet, and sounded sulky. Sorry about that!

We got to the start without issue and I gave my bike a last check over;  in my sleepless state I’d been worrying that my brakes were rubbing my tires, I came prepared with my torque wrench and a few other tools I might have needed, but they weren’t rubbing; I must have dreamt it!

So early it's dark over T1

I chatted to some others in the area, the guy with his bike accross from me had an interesting race plan– “I want to be home in time for tea” What time’s that? I asked “About 7, and I live an hour away”.

I did what was needed, went to the portaloo, got my wetsuit on and was heading down to the water. Someone said “we should get down there, there’s space but it’s filling fast”. I’ve made the error of being among the last in the water before – I didn’t want to have to swim through the crowd again.

The Swim:

I was out at the start line with about 20 minutes to spare. I thought this was too much time, there were too many people behind me; I’m not a great swimmer and I shouldn’t be at the sharp end of the swim. I swore a bit, accepted it and moved to the outside of the group, to some clear water. I waited, I tried to relax but my Heart Rate was well over 110bpm no matter what I did. I started to get cold as the final people were getting in the water and I knew it wouldn’t be long.

Oh-Five-Twenty-Two, what does the Oh stand for? Oh my god it's early

In the last big race I did I distinctly remember it seeming very quiet because I was focussed on the start; then I’d been confident in where I was but this was the opposite. I wanted everyone to SHUT UP. I couldn’t hear the announcer, there were too many people around me and I was cold. I was starting to panic that I’d messed my race up before it had even started, and why hadn’t it started? It was already gone 6:00.

And then everyone went. I never heard the start, but everyone was swimming so I went too. I hit the “Start” button on my watch and went for it.

When 1,300 people start swimming it can be like swimming through a rinse cycle; though being to the outside of the course wasn’t too bad. I had to push a few people away who were swimming in diagonals, and a few times tried to breathe in other people’s wake – that doesn’t work so well.

The crowds heading to the water, why I thought it was busy!

I found someone to follow who had a really strong kick which meant it was easy to keep track of him, though a face full of bubbles was a bit disorientating.

I lost his feet at a turn buoy to someone who was even more determined to get them than I was to keep them, and so I started swimming on my own for a bit looking out for someone else to follow; soon another serious kicker came scything through the pack and I got onto his feet with the vigour of a fat kid on a smartie.

To be honest, the swim was pretty uneventful; I expected an hour of being beaten up and to come out in 1:10 at the very best. The beatings were limited, and I was out in 1:07… I’ll take that, though it adds to the general belief, that swim as short.

Swim time: 1:07:16, 375^th, 34%,

Transition 1: Swim to bike.

I can’t pee and swim without breaking my stroke, and since I was trying to chase people I didn’t want to do that, the result was in T1 I had to stop in a portaloo for a pee that Austin Powers would have been impressed by.

I took my time over getting everything on; I jogged to my bike, having spent nearly 5 minutes in T1! I saw my parents as I came onto the bike, and assumed I’d be lucky to see them again until the run. Now only 112 hilly miles away!

Oh, that’s further than I’d ever ridden before.

 T1 time: 0:04:38 (I said it was slow!) 224^th, top 20%, 69 places gained!

Bike

I was pleased to have driven the start of the bike course the day before; to describe it simply it goes north from the lake for about 15 miles, there are then three loops of 32 miles and a few miles off the end to the Bike-run transition. I’d ridden the main loop in July, and had driven through the aggressive traffic calming measures including chicanes and alp sized speed bumps

I felt a few drops of rain. This wasn’t on the forecast. I’d left my jacket at T1, thinking I wouldn’t need it, I would be too hot with it. I realised I’d have to suck it up; nothing to be done about it now. It came to nothing, and soon we were on the loop.

When I saw just where we were I swore a little. The bike course is pretty hilly, but there’s one HILL. Sheep House Lane. We would have to ride up it three times, and there was an aid station near the bottom, so we’d be carrying full water bottles up it… OK, a full 800ml water bottle can’t weigh much more than 800g, but I’d hoped to be able to ditch all the liquid out of them to save weight for the way up.

The first time up didn’t feel too bad, I remained seated through most of it and wondered how the people that were struggling around me were going to fair over the next two ascents. I tried to look cheery for the photographer at the top. I pretty much failed!

It was around here I met my adjacent number – I was 1192, he was 1193 (hello Stephen Birchall!) and our paths would cross many times through the rest of the ride. This was a great aspect to the race; there was a group spirit. Each person had their strengths, Stephen had a more aerodynamic set-up than me and would pull away on the descents and flatter sections, but I was a slightly better climber and would catch him back up. Each time we’d have a quick “how’s it going” sort of chat, and then push on. When I was having a down patch, someone else would be up which helped me out. When they were having a down patch, I tried to encourage them along too. I had a feeling of “we’re in this ridiculous pursuit together, so let’s help each other out”

And so the bike went on without too much drama. I felt like I was riding within myself, but even then I struggled on the last trip up sheep house lane. My nutrition strategy had been based on a tried and tested Mule Bar products; the food on offer during the bike leg meant that you’d struggle to get in more than about 300 calories per lap with what was on offer, but I was working on the principle of 350 per hour, with a lap taking around 2 hours.

Being a pessimist, I was carrying nutrition for an eight hour ride, and even then I wondered “what if it takes more than 8 hours?”

So, the nutrition I’d tried in some of my long training sessions was a Mule Gel every 20 minutes on the 20, 40, 60, 80, 100 and then a mule bar on the 120. This worked out to be about 350 calories an hour. Winner.

 Until I ate the first bar.

 I don’t know if it was the position on the bike, what I was drinking, the effort I was putting in, or what. But the bars that had been a treat on long rides suddenly just sat in my stomach. I worried I was going to vomit, I worried I wasn’t going to be able to eat another thing. I worried I wasn’t going to be able to find a toilet and it felt like one might be required at short notice!

One of the things I learnt running London to Brighton was to go with what your body will take in, forcing the issue will leave it upset.

Based on this experience, I switched to just some water and waited for it to settle down. It soon did, and I went back to just gels, grateful for having packed enough for 8 hours!

The crowds were great. I loved the couple who had come to the end of their driveway to watch; they were sat drinking tea on my first lap, by the second the gentleman in his 50’s was trimming the hedge under her guidance, and by the third lap it was looking good. That made me wonder how long I’d been out there. That seemed like a normal thing to do on a Sunday and once again I wondered:

“What the f**k am I doing here?”

 The crew from COLT tri club deserve an honourable mention, as does everyone at the bottom of Sheep House Lane who really responded when I yelled something like “I can’t hear you”. Their cheers helped that last ascent, there’s a Heart Rate Spike to prove it!

I also got to see my parents another three times, they arrived just as I descended from The Climb on my first lap, many hours later the shout of “see you on the run course” brought a huge smile to my face, and must have been great to hear on their aching feet.

By then I’d climbed The Climb for the last time, I knew I’d make it onto the run. My feet were hurting for only the second time in many rides in these bike shoes; why now shoes? Why? I was in bits from the way my shorts were chaffing. At least 8 races plus training, and now they chafe. Why shorts? Why? But I was having fun.

 I know, weird, eh?

 I gave my bike to the cadet at Bike-Run transition and said “look after her, she’s treated me well”. I’m not sure why my bike is female.

Bike Times: 6:36:33, 417^th bike split, 34%, now 373^rd overall, lost 67 places.

Bike-Run transition:

I took my time to change into some compression socks, I also took off my cycling jersey and pulled another one on. I had a tri-top underneath, but wanted and extra layer in case it got cold. I grabbed some bits of nutrition and stood up.

Bags at drop-off in T2 pre-race

Woah there legs! Get back underneath me where you belong… Soon I was capable of walking, which was a start, just a marathon to go!

I realised this was my last chance for a proper toilet, so had another epic wee – happy I wasn’t dehydrated! I also washed the salt and other crap off my face; a waste of time, but left me feeling refreshed.

T2 time: 7:17, 643^rd, 58%, left in 373^rd place, only dropped 3 places!

Run:

Out onto the run I met up with Paul Fowler, for whom I’d been crew when he did a double ironman earlier in the year (Double Iron… silly, silly thing to do! But he did an awesome job) He was here supporting and as a volunteer; he had run along next to me on the bike course when I missed a bottle, and now he dropped everything to run along with me for a few hundred metes, told me where he would be on the run course and commented on how smooth my running looked.

It felt smooth too, my knees were up, I was landing well, and just gliding along. I felt great. I was running 8:00/mile. Which was much too fast. So I slowed down, back to my goal pace of 8:55.

My run strategy was a pretty basic one: Run at 8:55 per mile, and hang on for as long as possible. I’d hung on to some painful put quite fast 5k times this year, is the same principle, right? Just 8 times as far.

The first 8 miles or so I was feeling pretty good; apparently I ran up to 42^nd in my age group and it was easy!

There was a steep up from the canal I’d been running along to the main loop, and here I had my first proper walk. A few times before I’d power walked to get my breath back, but here I walked – faster than a stroll, but not a fast walk.

People were clapping and cheering, I distinctly remember saying “don’t clap me, I’m just walking”. Ah, the mental descent had begun!

I ran down the road into down-town Bolton and saw my parents, my brother, my sister-in-law and their two kids. I was unbelievably moved to see them; I felt pretty bad about the fact that the kids had come out, they’d get bored (they’re 3, and 1), but it would be nice for them to see their grandparents and they wouldn’t be here for long.

As I turned around I high-fived my brother; I felt pretty good. At the aid stations I had a gel and some water, making the most of my ability to get calories in while I could. I had another chat with Paul who asked how my guts were and left me with the comment “don’t get bloated”.

The Grimace of slow running (click for full size)

I picked up my first of three bands at the turnaround point and I was pretty pleased with myself. I ran back down the hill into Bolton, and I saw the family again; they were still in the same spot, it was great to see them. They’d been there for about an hour now, the poor kids.

They were on an out-and-back section, so I’d see them twice per lap, and it was on the way back through the second time that I lost it. I ran through them, but right there I was miserable. As I ran up the hill I started thinking about how much things hurt. My feet hurt from my cycling shoes. My left hip and hamstring hurt. My shoulder ached. I was feeling bloated

“What the f**k am I doing here?”

I walked a lot that lap. And I mean a lot.

Paul tried to cheer me up; it’s funny, I said I didn’t want him to run with me and I wondered how he must have felt with me jogging along next to him at the double IronMan. I didn’t think my “Suffering” was enough to warrant his attention. I knew I was just lacking commitment, I wasn’t “man enough” for the job right then, but I also knew it would come back around.

And so the walking lap continued. People streamed past me, I tried to see how many laps they’d done by the bands we were wearing on our wrists, but soon I stopped caring. I knew I’d missed my goal time of 12 hours from the time splits my GPS watch was giving me, so what was the point in carrying on hurting? Walking wasn’t so bad.

As I came back on my family I think I said “This is really hard” struggling not to let my voice break, and to not cry. At that point it was hard, really hard.

I saw some friends from races who’d done a different IronMan the week before – I tried to joke “no-one said it was this tricky” went through the town loop, and saw my Mum and niece in a different place; I nearly cried again, and as I passed my brother and Dad said “I’ll see you at the finish line”.

The finish line; that sounded like an appealing prospect. I had another low bit as I went through and aid station and joined the other walkers going up the steepest part of the run. I said to the guy next to me “Do you think we can run to that aid station?” he commented it was up hill but would give it a go. I ran on and we were together for a while before he decided to drop off – he did have another two laps to go, so I couldn’t blame him, but I ran on, remembering to thank all the volunteers as I wouldn’t see them again. Which was a beautiful thing, nothing personal, they’d done a great job, but I was going home!

I thanked the groups in the crowd I’d had a laugh with along the way.

And I came down to the woman who was checking wrist bands with this horrible moment of doubt…

“I do only need three, don’t I?”

She confirmed I did and I started to run down the finish chute. Four and a bit years since my first triathlon I was coming down the finish chute at an IronMan. I tried to get the crowd going, and they responded. I crossed the finish line.

Iain MacNaughtan, YOU. ARE. AN. IRONMAN!

Is what I imagine they said. I didn’t actually hear them. I looked up at the clock 12:15:40. I said to myself “That’ll do” and a volunteer took my timing chip off.

Run times: 4:19:36, 52%, 581^st run split, 449^th/1,112. dropped 79 places on the run.

I was gutted I’d not heard them say my name. Here was that focus I’d missed at the start line; the focussed silence. Where had this been when I was struggling on the run? Where had this been when I was worried about puking on the bike? When I was scared about the swim start? Now, the one time all day I definitely wanted to hear everything going on, it was here; near silence.

Me and Mum, just after the finish.

A volunteer offered me a bottle of Gatorade. I think she was unsure if she should take me seriously when I responded “I’d rather lick a badger than drink any more Gatorade. But thanks for the offer.”

Seeing how impressed my family were with what I’d done, the IronMan blues started to come in at the sides. I knew the run was 2 miles short. I was stoked to have finished, but I knew that given the pace of my last lap it wasn’t my body that had let me down on the penultimate lap, it was my head.

In the last few hours of the race I’d been plotting my next IronMan; the equipment I’d get. The changes I’d make to my training. The time I would spend in the pool, and the desire above all to get my head into shape, so it didn’t let me down again.

Since the race I’ve felt odd. I enjoyed it, but I wonder why it took me so long to do one? I wonder why people seem impressed by what I did? I swam, quite slowly. I rode, quite slowly. And I ran, quite slowly. It’s just not that big a deal.

My sister once asked “do you think you’ll ever be happy with a result”. I doubt it. But it’s the problem with moving the bar, especially if you’re doing it half way through an event!

I lied about the exciting twist. Sorry.

 Failure #1.

Pizza: Food of the gods.

I went to the Outdoors/Boat/Cycle show with a friend and we looked at shiny things and drank quite a lot of beer. I headed home about 7pm and realised I was actually a little drunk, and that I was REALLY HUNGRY. I ate a banana and some nuts that were in my bag for snacking requirements, but they didn’t quite cut the mustard. I found myself in Sainsbury’s and was drawn to the Taste The Difference Pizzas. These things are Magnificent. I bought one, I ate it at home, and it was delicious.

 On the Sunday morning I returned to Veganism with some delicious Quinoa, Oats, Banana and Blueberry porridge. I say “Delicious” I don’t really mean it.

 Failure #2. The Weekend of Fail…

If it was good enough for Chunk in The Goonies...

I met up with some friends in Cardiff, and it started OK – I had the “sweet potato and bean burger” without cheese and it was quite nice. Later we had Chinese take away, and I couldn’t resist the temptation to have duck, and Crispy Beef. On the Sunday I had a little bit of a hangover and was offered some Bolognese which was delicious, and since I’d broken that day, I decided to finish it with an extremely tasty Chicken Curry since it was my birthday the next day, like a little celebration. Then it was actually my birthday and I had Domino’s Pizza. It would be fair to say this was a complete failure of a weekend.

Failure #3. The Small things along the way…

Turns out the Echinacea capsules I had been taking contained Gelatine. Bum.

The discovery that an extract from the swim bladder of the Rudd is used as a finings agent in real ale means I’ve almost certainly failed along the way there too, though this is only cask conditioned ales, the bottled versions tend not to have it.

Butter, I was having beans on toast, I grabbed the spread from the fridge, I spread it on the toast and then realised my mistake. I was hungry, I went for it anyway.

Cravings along the way…

From the above you may be able to tell I’m quite a fan of pizza. I think it’s the king of foodstuffs, so when I have to pass the pizza section in the supermarket, I struggle a bit, but that’s not new. One of the reasons I started triathlon was to deal with my pizza habit, I restrict myself (generally) to one a week.

Buttery things: I often walk past a French bakery on the way to work, the staff are all French, and the products are delicious and buttery. Mmmm… butter. They do Almond and Chocolate croissants that make me want to weep they’re so good, but after the first week the smell stopped appealing to me so much. Similarly, when I go to breakfast in the office I don’t have the same urge for bacon when I smell it as I did, it just doesn’t smell that good to me anymore. I don’t really crave anything at the moment, since I’ve been off chocolate for over a month now I’m not that fussed by it. The presence of some Haribo sweets by my desk yesterday were a bit taxing but fine.

I’m a little anxious about how I’m going to feel about preparing myself meat; what if the smell of bacon is just an indication that I’ve put myself off?

Body Weight

I expected to come out of this LEAN and fighting fit.

 I currently have a little bit of a cold.

 But it turns out it’s quite difficult to watch one’s bodyweight. I’m lead to believe it’s protein that really makes us feel full for a longer period of time, so when one takes chicken or something out of a meal it has to be replaced by something significant, else I will eat a lot more than I need to. This lead to an almost 2kg weight gain in the first week! While this figure is probably effected by hydration and the like I did feel “chunkier” at that point.

 However, once I realised I was just replacing protein with starch I altered the way I ate to include a lot less pasta, rice that sort of thing and a lot more mixed proteins; Quinoa, brown rice, beans, lentils, all of which are also rich carbohydrate sources. As a result of this, and with a steady block of training (until this cold came along) I have seen a drop in weight down to about 1-2 kg’s below my November ’11 average.

 General Feelings:

No change. This is what disappoints me, I thought (hoped) I would have all the energy in the world, I’d be running marathons before breakfast and swimming like a fish.

 I feel entirely normal. The high levels of fibre have an obvious effect on one’s daily routine, but that’s about the only change I can really see.

 Discoveries.

Curly Kale.

Bulgar Wheat.

Both really tasty.

And Next?

Raw Food Vegan? Mightbe going too far!

Brendan Brazier's a pretty handy IronMan, and this works for him (Click to go to his website)

The main thing I’ve realised is I don’t need meat in my diet, I can live comfortably without it. Financially, not having meat in my diet is great! BUT it’s a little restrictive. Some have suggested “what about week-day veganism” which seems like it might work, but I think I’m going to go for being just a bit of a rubbish vegan. Broadly speaking I’m going to keep a very low animal product diet, but when I fancy prawns in a stir-fry, I will have prawns in a stir fry. When I want butter and honey on my toast, that’s what I’ll have, and from there, we’ll just wait and see. But I’m definitely not avoiding ales and wine, that’s just ridiculous!

 Until recently it was looking quite different to the last couple, there wasn’t much running in it at all, but slowly things are creeping in that might just change that. 

HOLIDAY! ?

In May I’m going on holiday to Gran Canaria. I mentioned this to my boss the other day and she said “Really? I didn’t really have you down as a Gran Canaria visitor. What are you going to do there? Won’t you get a bit bored sitting on the beach all day?” at this point I explained that I’m going with some people who are CONSIDERABLY better cyclists than I am, and that in their trip last year they averaged 150km a day. I expect to have my legs ridden off, it’s going to be a “sufferfest” but it’s part of the plan; it should leave me in the best cycling form of my life for the tough bike leg at…

The First Race

Wimbleball '10, missed goal time by 3 minutes. Quite tired!

The first and only event I’ve paid for is UK IronMan 70.3 at Wimbleball Lake. This will be my fourth time there. I was trying to give an explanation to a colleague the other day about why I’m going back; I couldn’t come up with a convincing argument!

There’s something about the event that I really enjoy, its great scenery, it’s a tough course, and it has a really good atmosphere, in my opinion and experience. There are other races out there which tick many of these boxes, “A Day in The Lakes” is definitely a tough and scenic course, but it doesn’t draw me.

VEGAS BABY… MAYBE 

The results of Wimbleball will affect the rest of the year… How? Well, Wimbleball is a qualifying race for the 70.3 world championships in Las Vegas in September. My fastest time on that course was 5:48, this year the slowest qualifier in my age group was 5:26. He was in 15^th in the Age Group, there are only 5 slots and this “rolled down” to him (i.e. there were 9 people who were faster than him but chose not to take the slot). I think Vegas is going to prove to me much more popular than the old World Championships in Clearwater were so I don’t think it will roll down that far again (2011 was the first year it was in Vegas) but if it does, and with a concerted effort, I believe I could get into that 5:2x finish time.

 Should I qualify, then my plans for the remainder of the year will be geared around doing as well there as possible, but for now I’m looking at also doing…

Another Return race…

Todmorden Sprint Tri is the July 1st 2012. This will be another fraternal smackdown, and I’d like to improve on my 8th or 2nd depending on how you look at it. (Confused? read here)

You know I mentioned cycling

I’m doing a charity bike ride; I’ve been asked many times relating to many events “so, what charity are you doing that for” and it’s always been for me; partly I don’t want the added pressure to finish, but mostly because in my mind it’s just not the event’s just not that big a deal, it’s a progression from where I started.

I’ve seen lots of people do the London to Paris Cycle for Charity and always thought “Really, 3 days?” well this one’s 24 hours. So that should make for a good challenge, and I’ll have to get over my dislike of cycling in the dark! My biggest concern is around the raising money for the nominated charity (Scope) but I’ve got a few ideas that might help along the way.

 Not much running starts here

The North Downs Way - kinda pretty. Click Image for source (Wiki)

I didn’t have any ultra running plans, until the other day I noticed the “North Downs Way 50”. It’s an imaginative title for a 50 mile run along the North Downs Way starting in Farnham, finishing in a place called Knockholt Pond. There’s not really much else to say! It’s in August, on the 11^th.

IM Distance tri, that doesn’t count as running…

I really enjoyed IronMan UK in Bolton, and while I would do it again, its date doesn’t really fit in with the other things I want to do; Challenge Henley, an Iron-Distance race in Henley fits better, and since it’s much more local (so no need for 3 nights in a hotel) should work out cheaper. It’s in September, on the 16^th.

Definitely still not much running!

In 2009 I did the London to Brighton Ultra Marathon, it’s an off-road self-navigated largely self supported affair in which I got wet feet at around 26 miles, and added 4 miles and a considerable period of time by getting really quite lost. I would like to know how I do with a reduction in getting lost, a reduction in how wet my feet get and a considerable increase in just “manning up” when it gets tough. It’s in September too, on the 30^th.

 See, no running, honest

Oh, even the cheese is running (it was delicious as I recall!)

The keen eyed among you will have noticed that despite saying “there wasn’t much running in there” there are two ultra marathons, both considered worthy of 2 points for UTMB qualification. They make an Ultra-IronMan-Ultra sandwich with 36 days and then 14 days rest between them. This seems like too much racing, not enough sitting down, so something has to give… I don’t want to lose any of it, but if I had to step away from one right now, it would be London to Brighton.

 First things first

But before I worry too much about that, I need to get fit again, running strongly enough and enjoying it enough that I can put in (and enjoy) the training.

I’ve been away over Christmas, and a few things of note have happened…

1) I’ve grown a beard. It’s a bit of a rubbish beard, but it’s my beard and I like it. It’s good in the current weather (cold and windy) as it keeps my face warm.

2) I’m trying out being Vegan. Yeah… more on that in a moment.

Combine these things and you get a comment from my brother:

“So, at this present time you are a bearded, vegan ultra distance runner – Nice!”

Oh what have I done?

On Beards:

I didn’t bother to shave while I was on holiday, the beard had just reached a nice level of softness when I was due back to work so I decided to tidy it up a bit and see what kind of reaction I got on return to the office, comments were positive. Though one guy’s started referring to me as Scruff. Another said it made me look much older, but I was pleased to be able to respond “At least I’m young enough not to have to worry about looking older”.

It stays, for now, and I’d like to keep it until I go skiing again in March, see if I can get one of those good frozen ice beards you see photos of…

Ice beard from RealMenRealStyle.com

On Veganism:

My brother read Born to Run and decided to have a go at Vegan January (starting 3^rd January as there was curry and stuff to be eaten first!) I have tried being vegan in the past and didn’t make it past breakfast (so I’ve not been vegan at all then!) but I thought I’d give it another go, partly in support of Stephen’s efforts, partly because I thought that with two of us going for it, it would be easier, moral support and all that.

I did just find myself sniffing an open packet of cookies; it’s not that much easier!

I did also fail yesterday; when I went to get a baked potato with beans they were out of baked potatoes and all the veggie options had at least some cheese on them, so rather than go hungry I went for the least cheesy option. This is going to be the strategy from now on:

“Iain’s Vegan Guidelines”

• Where possible, go Vegan.
• Where no vegan option is available, what is the most vegan? E.g. what has the least cheese on it, what’s the leaset meaty animal to eat? In general the process will be something like this:
  • Vegetables < Cheese/Dairy < Fish < Chicken/Birds < All other animals.
• If someone cooks for me, I will eat whatever they provide (except Mushrooms, they’re spawn of Satan (unless my niece Emily reads this – Emily, Mushrooms are lovely))
• If I feel I’m not recovering from training sufficiently, or I find there is an issue that I can relate directly to this diet, it stops
• If I don’t find any issues with it I will not become some kind of evangelical vegan. Hopefully.
• I will not become a full time Vegan unless this radically changes my life; I don’t think I could cope with trying to eat out or go on holiday with people!

Pre-V-Day I did attempt to consume all the animal products in the flat that couldn’t be frozen, this included possibly the finest creation since someone said “Hey, here’s a bagel”: The Duck and Bacon Bagel. It’s all kinds of awesome. Once I’m done with Veganism I’ll have another, and it will include cheese. There will be photos… watch this space

Actually, you can stop watching this space for now, it’s going to be a little while.

Bye.

So there we go. First comment of 2012. At some point in the not too distant future I’m going to finally put up my IronMan UK race report; it’s written, I just need to read it through and make it seem less dull, perhaps I’ll put a picture of a sparrow in there, or some random hyperlinks. Get excited.