BECOMING AN IRON MA(g)N(us)!
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Getting into Triathlon The Lure of Ironman Training like a Maniac Pre-Race Race Day The Swim The Ride The Run Ironman! The Movie More Pictures |
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[ Getting into Triathlon ] Escaping from Alcatraz and swimming with Great White Sharks Amsterdam 2002: Stephen Fletcher and I randomly decided to compete in an Olympic triathlon (swim 1.5K, Bike 40K, Run 10K). We trained like fiends for 2 weeks, got sick, injured and wisely decided to stick to our other hobbies: golf and fine dining.
By the end of summer 2004 I had completed 4 Olympic distance triathlons, from the baking heat at Wildflower near LA to Great White Shark-dodging escapades at Alcatraz and Santa Cruz. Tired out from all the training and having achieved my goals, I was ready to retire. [ The Lure of Ironman ] 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run – an ultimate challenge Except...
Through the dark winter nights, fellow triathlete (and our Maid of Honor) Cheist kept pulling me aside to whisper sweet nothings about the bratwurst-based joys of that summer's Ironman Germany. Before I knew it, all my triathlon-training buddies were signing up for Ironman events. But I couldn't do that: my knees – beaten by one brutal footie challenge too many as a kid - had creaked their way through an Olympic season. Racing dawn to dusk swimming 2.4 miles, biking 112 and capping it all by running a marathon (26.2 miles) would certainly push me past breaking point. And yet... The thought kept nagging: it was a chance to try something that seemed unachievable - an ultimate physical challenge. In Scotland over Christmas some bold, drunken claims were made and one woozy morning I awoke surprised to find I had signed up for the California Vineman Ironman, in August 2005! [ Training like a Maniac ] Training 20 hours a week, eating like a horse and hurling bright blue vomit! The sheer volume of effort involved in training for an Ironman is mind numbing. To make things more interesting ALL our friends and family decided to visit this year! As a result, a typical work day was an exhausted haze of a 6am bike ride followed by a full working day, an evening swim and then zombie-like partying with guests till late. Weekends were even crazier: Saturday started at 7am with a 3K swim, then straight into a 100 mile bike ride up into Marin, finished off with a 5 mile jog. By way of light relief, Sunday was time for a relaxing 20-odd mile run! A few things made all the effort bearable:
[ Pre-Race ] Car accidents, one-arm swimming and pre-race nerves Suddenly (well, over 200 miles of swimming, 4500 miles of biking and 700 miles of running later!) the big race approached. The day before the race DISASTER STRUCK – biking to work I was clipped by a car, smacking my left elbow, which swelled up worryingly. I rushed home to pack it in ice and curse my fate: would I have to drop out of the race? I spent the day wondering if I could swim one-armed – would I go round in circles?!!! That afternoon I headed to the race site with Cheryl, family and friends. Pre-race routine: stuff down obscene amounts of salty pasta, triple check all the racing equipment and take an early night. [ Race Day ]
Breakfast in the dark and adrenaline charge at the starting gun 4:30am: Pitch dark outside: time to stuff down multiple bananas and bagels to store up energy for a long day. Fortunately, the elbow was sore but not seized up. 6:15am: Late to the race site, I rushed to get all my gear set up in the transition area. Squeezing into my wetsuit, the announcers called my age group to the start line. Chugging a large bottle of energy drink I ran to join the other athletes at the riverside. 6:46am: As a dawn mist hovered over the river, I felt a surge of adrenaline as over 8 months of preparation came to a head. I was surrounded by swim-capped, pumped-up bodies that made me feel extremely puny. Then, with friends and family cheering the gun went off, the water around me churned with flailing arms and the race was on! I kept right up there with the leaders for the first 10-15 meters then settled into my own pace: it would be a LONG day and I would take my own speed. [ The Swim ]
Giant pointing fingers and oh-no-not-again physical traumas on the Russian River 7:09am 0:23 on the clock: First turn around in the 2-loop upstream/downstream Russian River swim course. A little behind target but with both arms feeling OK and the water temperature great, I cranked on and approached half way in only a further 19 minutes. A cracking sub-1:25 swim looked on track and I swam round the halfway buoy to the sight of bright orange shirts and wildly gesticulating cardboard pointy fingers of my supporters cheering me on. 7:29am 0:42 on the clock: Uh-oh. Right after halfway, I felt odd, really odd: dizzy and weak. Was it the accident or too much Gatorade? Easing off to try and settle down didn't help, despite taking 26 minutes for the third quarter. Fellow competitors were already out of the water but 1 kilometer upstream I was feeling worse and worse. Each time I lifted my head to sight the course, I felt like throwing up: then, that's exactly what I did! My disoriented head bobbed out of the water as my stomach cramped and I puked orange in all directions. Seeing a safety kayak paddling over, I started feebly swimming again, worried that I might get pulled out for my own safety. The rest of the swim was a trial - just wanting to be done – and I'd thought this would be the most enjoyable part of the race!!! 8:10am 1:34 on the clock: Jogging out of the water in 1:34, white as a ghost, strength sapped and way behind my 13 hour target time, I was just delighted to be stripping off the wetsuit and taking the cheers of Cheryl & Co. This day would be longer than expected... [ The Ride ]
112 miles of vineyards, Old MacDonald's Farm and Chalk Hill 8:19am 1:44 on the clock: Changed into comfy bike shorts and gear for the 112 mile, 2-loop ride, I barked "No more throwing up!" at Cheist as I biked out. It's a gorgeous ride – rolling hills and vineyards all the way. Compared to that swim, anything would feel good and I focused on taking it steady and eating or hydrating whenever I could keep something down. The first 30 miles flew by and I felt great, so I pushed on towards half way, trying to pace under my 6:50 ride target and get back some of the time lost on the swim. 11:42am 5:07 on the clock: Halfway on the bike in 3:23 I was feeling better and better. After chatting to Cheryl and her family for a couple of minutes, I zipped into the second lap. Normally my back and legs get really tight and sore round mile 80 but this time I felt great and so kept the speed going. Chalk Hill is the only significant climb on the Vineman course and I cruised up it both times. The biggest challenges on the ride were a couple of unexpected obstacles, including a calf on the road that just about knocked my off my bike as it leapt in fright with my shout of "Moo!". Signs of fatigue also showed when I found myself heckling a cockerel for a tardy "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"' at 2 in the afternoon. Animal interventions aside, the bike was an incredible experience as I hit a zone of total concentration: nothing mattered except getting my body back in balance, keeping a quick but sustainable pace and maintaining reserves of fuel, energy and water for the grueling marathon to come. 2:56pm 8:21 on the clock: From the 100 mile mark onwards I still felt strong and held back a little – thinking it was a long, LONG way still to go - plenty people bonk (totally running out of energy and wobbling to a dispiriting halt) on the run. I rode into transition at 6:37 for the bike - back on track for a sub 13 hours if I could just sneak under 4:30 in the marathon. [ The Run ]
Running fast, peeing often and Dropping the Hammer! 3:02pm 8:27 on the clock: With another quick change – sunscreen applied, running shoes and socks on, wedding ring grabbed from Cheryl – the road beckoned. I had tried to race intelligently: from this point the race becomes uncharted territory – just start running and see what happens. With running my best event, I felt good taking on the challenging 3-loop course. The tribulations of the swim felt far behind with Chris, Space, Amanda, Barbara, Dale, Auntie Marg, Cheryl, Brian, Laurence and other spectators cheering me at every step. 4:23pm 9:48 on the clock: After the first loop (around 9 miles in) I couldn't believe it – I was flying, feeling strong and on pace for a 4 hour marathon. For a few minutes buoyed up by my crazy support team I sped up – excited by the prospect of a barely credible sub-4 hour time... bad idea! With 17 miles still to go, my heart-rate soaring and my body screaming I saw sense and settled back into a solid 9 minute mile pace. It was a surreal experience, swinging from sensory overload of cheering and encouragement each time I passed by my support team to quiet zen-like focus out running in the hills. Equally odd, I broke my record of never having stopped for a toilet break in a race: between the bike and run I clocked a porta-potty-busting 11 pit stops! 5:45pm 11:10 on the clock: Starting the 3rd lap with almost 17 miles done, the announcer hollered, "We'll have haggis for you at the finish, Magnus!" (he lied, by the way...). "Drop The Hammer!" cried Ironman Lawrence, helpfully providing a physical demonstration. I've rarely felt less like I had a hammer to drop... I was so tired, but then I'd been racing for almost 12 hours so what could I expect?! Athletes were walking all around me, some cramping so badly they could barely even walk. My bludgeoned body refused solid food, so I switched to cola and cookies; starting a cycle of sugar-rush/sugar-crash.
At the final mile marker I cranked past my Support Team for the final time to rousing cheers. Gasping lungfuls of air, the last mile felt like a sprint. Rounding the final corner at a tilt, screams of encouragement pumped fresh juice into my legs, which executed a silly high-knees gallop toward the finish. "Is that how they run in Scotland?", asked the announcer. I hit the final chute, paused to kiss Cheryl then blazed through the finish with a huge grin all over my face. [ Ironman ]
Hitting the tape 7:07pm 12:32:06 on the clock: Twelve and a half hours after starting the swim, I was an IRONMAN! The run took a fantastic 4:04 – beyond my wildest expectations. After consulting my personal medical supervisor (Auntie Marg!) we decided I didn't even need the near-obligatory I.V. at the medical tent. After big celebrations we wearily headed out for dinner, where my traumatized body took in a little food, a little beer, a little coffee, before heading back to the hotel. Though still buzzing from the events of the day, once the lights went out I was asleep in seconds, still wearing my Vineman Finisher medal, tired but incredibly proud and happy in the knowledge: I am Ironman! [ The Movie ] There are two sizes of the Magnus Ironman Movie for you to download. It is a 2 minute movie following Magnus through his Ironman.  Smaller : Dial-up (590K) Larger : Broadband (7MB) [ More Pictures ]
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