Being dragged around a drizzly Tenby on a Sunday afternoon as a grumpy teenager or sat on North Beach making sandcastles as a contented 6 year old, little did I know that it would one day be the base for one of the toughest, rewarding, exhilarating, longest and proudest days of my life.
Ironman Wales made its debut in Tenby last September and after completing Challenge Copenhagen a month earlier, spectating the race and experiencing the special atmosphere convinced me that I definitely wanted to do my 'backyard' Ironman. So excited I was by what I'd seen in Tenby and despite the atrocious 'end of a hurricane' conditions the athletes had to endure, I entered as soon as entries for 2012 opened. It took a little while longer for Dan to be convinced, but he'd entered by the end of the year.
Training had gone to plan. Knowing hills featured prominently in Pembrokeshire, most of my training involved dragging my arse up endless hills - in the Pyrenees, the Welsh valleys and of course I had the luxury of being able to train on Pembrokeshire's lumps and bumps. 5.30am wake up calls to head to the pool became customary. Getting up at the normal time of 7am became a 'lie-in'.
One major worry was the fact I'd have to swim 3.8km in the sea. I'm not keen on the sea. However, we chose our 'training' races carefully, making a trip down to Cornwall to take part in the Kernow Man Middle Distance and signing up to our other local race, the Pembrokeshire Coast Olympic Tri, which took place in Broad Haven. Both races allayed my fears, despite a bitterly cold sea in Cornwall and a frustratingly choppy swim in Broad Haven. The weeks went by ridiculously quickly and it was all of a sudden time to pack the car with all our paraphernalia (including Pws) and head to Pembrokeshire!
We arrived in Tenby on the Friday and the place was, predictably, awash with fellow triathletes. Dan and I registered, had a look around the expo then headed to North Beach for a practice swim. There was a lovely atmosphere down at the beach, with everyone chatting to eachother whilst attempting to squeeze onself into distinctively smelling neoprene. There were blue skies and light winds so it was a very pleasant setting. I really enjoyed the practice swim and all the fears of having to battle surf and rolling waves had long since evaporated. We attended the race briefing and pasta party that evening where we saw fellow Bad-triers also taking part.
Saturday morning was kind of stressful. I'd agreed to be interviewed by welsh radio so a microphone was shoved in front of my face after breakfast. Then we needed to get down to Tenby (from my parents') to rack the bikes and hand in our transistion bags. I hadn't bothered packing my bags before going down because I knew I'd only take everything out again to double check them. On arriving in Tenby I almost immediately went out for one last short bike ride to check that the Blue was riding ok. I headed out towards Kiln Park where my friends Helen and Lou 'The Church' had just arrived to pitch up their tent. They'd come to Tenby to support me, which was so touching.
Eventually, to the detriment of having lunch at the normal time, we racked and handed our bags in. I felt calm now so enjoyed my late tuna salad lunch and proceeded to attempt to relax for the rest of the day. Helen and The Church came over to the sea view apartment we were staying at and we sat and overlooking the beach, chatting.
The day before and ironman is a bit like a Sunday before going back to work. You don't want bed time to come. After a spag bol dinner cooked by Gill and Russ who we were sharing the flat with, we settled down to watch an array of Saturday night TV. Soon enough, Match of the Day was on and it was time to go to bed. I insisted on watching the Man Utd game so had to compromise with Dan and watched the game on mute. I'm sure he went to sleep straight away. I turned the TV off and listened to my ipod. I didn't feel ready to sleep yet....and so it went on all night. I wasn't ready to sleep. Although I think I almost fell asleep a dozen times, I never quite made it. It's amazing how quickly time goes when you can't sleep. By 3am I'd resigned myself to the fact that I'd probably have to do an ironman on zero sleep. Ah well.
My unnecessary alarm went off at 4am. Dan awoke and I declared I'd not slept at all. I had a shower and realised I felt pretty sick and my stomach wasn't behaving. I made porridge, my favourite breakfast in the world but it smelt disgusting. I managed to eat half of it, a little bit of banana soreen and a bottle of lucozade sport. Not ideal.
We then left to head to transistion through Tenby's dark and quiet streets. There were some stragglers from nights out, looking on bemused. It was still and fairly warm but my god I felt sick. I knew it was just nerves though, although I can't say I felt that nervous. I saw Andrea on the way into transistion who told me not to worry. On the plus side, however, I got to my bike this year to find both tyres still inflated (unlike the flat one that greeted me at Copenhagen last year). Bike dressed and after-race bag handed in, we headed back to the apartment to put on our wetsuits. It was still pretty dark outside and I fretted over which goggles to wear - clear or polarised? I went for my old clear ones.
By the time we got outside the apartment again, it was more light than dark and we joined the procession of seal-like contemplative souls down to the beach. The size of the crowd who'd already come out to watch astonished me. My nausea was starting to wane too. Down at the beach, Dan and I said our goodbyes, good lucks and kissed before having a quick dip in the sea as a 'warm up'. It was quite surreal to hear 'Hen Wlad fy Nhadau' sung before embarking on a triathlon, but it was nice. The twit who shouted "Come on England!" at the end did not impress me, but fired me up a little, which was needed. All of a sudden the South African Ironman man announced "90 seconds to go!" and with that started some tense music. I was stood towards the back of the pack, as usual, and was fretting about how foggy my goggles were. Eventually there was some kind of bang, a cheer from the crowd and the pack moved forward. I was still faffing with my goggles as I entered the sea but a quick plunge in the water completely cleared them and I was happy that I could actually see now. And so began the swim.
As predicted, the first few hundred metres was a bun fight. People breastroking, stopping in front of you (!), swimming over/under you etc. Chaos, but I was fine with it. It took a while to get some clear water but half way to the first buoy the field spread out a little. I managed to avoid the ruckus going around the first buoy opting to round it the long but less stressful way. Getting to the end of the first lap I thought "God, I have to go around again?!". I didn't look at my watch but I did hear some guy muttering "My God!" after looking at his. I feared that our first lap had taken an eternity. A "Go Lowri" from Sarah in the crowd lifted my spirits running through the Australian exit and I waded in again for the second round. The swim was quite pleasant indeed but half way around the second lap I thought again about how long this seemed to be taking. Finally the beach and Goskar Rock was in sight and I planted my feet in the sand to stagger out. I immediately peeled off the top half of my wetsuit and looked at my watch finally - 1hr11. I couldn't believe it. That was about 6 minutes faster than my Copenhagen time.
Next was the one kilometre dash to transition. First we had to locate our run shoes then negotiate a steep ramp up from the beach before trotting to essentially the other side of Tenby to sort ourselves out for the bike. T1 was busy and I struggled to find a space to sit but I eventually managed to compose myself and change into bike kit. 14 long minutes after exiting the water, I presented myself to my bike and off we went of the most epic of Ironman bike courses.
I'd recced the route four times so was very familiar with how challenging it was. I'd even done the whole two loops 3 weeks previously and had managed it in a minute shy of 8 hours so I was hoping for a slightly faster time today. Leaving T1 the crowd was vocal and excited but I managed to spot Dan's parents then my Mum and Sister. Before getting to the first of many hills, I flew past Helen and The Church who were on their way back to the car to head back to Bristol. I shouted something about having a chafe on my neck then thanked them for having come down to see me.
The first stretch of the bike leg is a 10 mile undulating stuggle to Lamphey. I could feel a headwind. It wasn't too bad but it wasn't as pleasant a day as when I'd done my recce. Within a few miles I came across a crash that had just happened and witnessed one guy fling his expensive looking Trek TT bike into the hedge...within 10 minutes he'd passed me again. As we got to the first hill after Pembroke, a guy on a lovely Canyon TT bike drew alongside me and started chatting to me in welsh. His name was Ioan and he'd seen my name on my number and presumed correctly that I spoke the lingo. We had a nice chat whilst we struggled up St Daniel's hill. I eventually pulled away then realised my Garmin had lost signal. This annoyed me but I wasn't worried since I knew the course like the back on my hand.
I had a lot of chats, mainly with Irish competitors. I was surprised by the amount of people who hadn't recced the course at all so I dished out sound advice to anyone who wanted it. There were pockets of crowds situated in random spots along the route, whooping and hollering as we rode past. On the hill at Templeton, a boy with a clipboard was telling everyone their positions and declared that I may be the 75th woman to go by. This amused me. I was excited about getting to Narberth, despite to gruelling hill to get up there, as it was the nearest place to home. It was here I saw lots of familiar faces - Nia & Emyr, Nerys & Gary, Emma and her Mum, Chris the hairdresser and finally my Mum and Sister at the feed station, where I stopped for a comfort break and a chat whilst faffing around with drinks bottles. On a quiet stretch of road at Prince's Gate I spotted a familiar looking jacket - it was Andy and Pete (in his Badtri jacket). It was great to see them but I did wonder how they'd got to such a random bit of road.
Soon enough it was time to tackle the two big hills, and being at the end of the loop they were tough. The atmosphere on what's been dubbed 'Heartbreak Hill' in Saundersfoot was immense. Now I know how Tour de France riders feel (well, maybe). The hill out of Saundersfoot goes on a lot longer that Heartbreak Hill so it was a delight to see Andrea sat in a deckchair at the top cheering me on. I can remember saying "that's a b***ard of a hill!" to her.
Back down into Tenby and into more great crowd support. I think I may have heard an announcer saying my name and I do remember seeing Pat & Pete. On the stretch to Lamphey again and the wind had picked up. Things were getting very tough now. By Carew, the drizzle had started and we were all getting very wet. It was at this point too that my knee decided it was gonna hurt like mad, a weird injury I'd had on and off since Copenhagen last year. The searing pain under my kneecap gave me cause for concern and climbing out of the saddle became a no-no. The rain meant that the crowds were now thinning out, just at the point when we really needed them. I made more 'friends' - an American guy who was doing it because "his wife had wanted to visit Wales", a guy from Blackcountry Triathletes and some others who I don't now recall. By the time we'd got back to Wiseman's Bridge, there was a lot of effing and blinding going on, however, my knee pain had long since disappeared. At Saundersfoot I was encouraged by what crowd was left to "beat the guys" so I put in a little spurt (and got to the top first). FINALLY, we were back in Tenby. Just one more little bump to climb and we were approaching T2. The guy from BC Triathletes held out his hand to me and we both well-doned eachother on making it back.
I was so glad to be off that bike although I was also greatful to it for not having broken down in any way. I thanked it and staggered back into the marquee. I'd been looking forward to the run as I knew not much could go wrong now and it was just a case of one foot in front of the other, just keep moving forward. I was also excited about who I'd see in Tenby.
Last year in Copenhagen, I'd had trouble with nausea on the run and I was determined that it wouldn't affect me this year again. I took a salt tablet at the first aid station.....but the damage had already been done and I realised I felt pretty dreadful. Thankfully it was only the feeling that I wanted to puke everywhere that afflicted me so I was able to run, somewhat. I took on two of my three Isogels, drank water, pepsi but nothing seemed to shift this awful feeling. I think I managed the first loop relatively well and even ran up the first hill. It was here I saw Dan, who already had 2 lap bands - he was doing very well. Crowd support was brilliant again and all us ladies seemed to get extra special cheers, so few and far between we were out there (121 female finishers against 1093 men!!!). Andy and Pete were at the arse end of the lap which, again, cheered me up, and Andy offered good advice that when I walked, I was to walk with purpose.
By the time I was back in Tenby at the end of my third lap, still feeling dreadful, I wondered if I'd finish in under 15 hours. I had just under an hour and a half to get round again, which sounds like a lot for 10k. I was starting to feel worse and the combination of no sleep, the 133 miles I'd already travelled, inadequate fuelling and seeing others with pink bands heading for the finish dragged me to my lowest point of the day.
Onto my last lap and it was now just a matter of getting it done. I think I must've walked almost the whole way. I could barely run downhill now for fear of throwing up and maybe even fainting. A guy called Les started chatting to me and we walked all the way down the hill back into town. By now I only had 2k or so to go so I really tried to run, albeit in small spurts. What was left of the crowd further encouraged me. Rounding the final few bends of the zigzag course through town, I looked at my watch - 14:59 - damn, I thought, but I wasn't too downbeat. I'm not sure how it then took me a further 10 minutes to get to the finish line (the spot whereby I'd looked at my watch is a bit fuzzy). I finally got to the bit of the course where I could go left instead of right. I was trotting but soon slowed to a walk when I realised the finishing chute was slightly uphill. Then I saw my crew - Dan, Mum, Dan, Elin, Jon, Pat & Pete - I had to start running again. A quick hug from my Mum and finally the red carpet and bright lights. I don't remember much of it but I do remember it was loud, bright and that there was a massive screen in front of me with my big grinning face on it. Over the line, arms up and a sigh of relief. It was done. 15 hours 9 minutes.
I was given my medal by a kind lady who gave me a lovely personal congratulations (can't remember what she said but I remember being touched) then a hearty handshake from the Mayor of Tenby. Then all my nearest and dearest were around me. I hugged Dan. He'd done brilliantly. I was happy too, happy to have survived such an epic day.
