So. It’s done. The first marker of the Ironman Wales 2020 season was the Dubai 70.3 Ironman event. A race which, in the past, I have professed to hate. Let me just say, right here, that first impressions are not always right.
I had felt surprisingly calm in the lead up to the Dubai race. I really think it was the lack of pressure. Since qualifying for the GB Age Group team in my first ever middle distance race I think I’ve always felt a pressure to perform to that level. Needless to say, since that day in the Cotswolds back in 2017, I’ve never come close. I panic before every race and every time my pace drops of I start to beat myself up. I spiral in to a negative mindset and from that second, the race is lost. I went in to this race with the full awareness that I really could not hope to match 5:31, I am simply not fit enough. So the next goal was – fall in love with middle distance again.
I spent the whole week ensuring I was sleeping, eating and drinking enough. If I’m honest, I’ve been tapering since RAK tri three weeks ago – but not intentionally. Work/life/lack of second car have all conspired against me. I think I had swum four times, run around 9 times and cycled twice. I managed to smash out my first sub-25 minute 5km in eighteen months at Cigna Parkrun this weekend and have been feeling pretty good about my running. I felt that if I were to make any gains at all over my 2018 time on this track, it would be on the run. My swim is pretty solid and my cycling is, at this point, utter crap. I was in for a surprise.
Let me just state the fact that the conditions were ideal. No chop, no wind, a little bit foggy, and not as hot as some February days in the desert can be. I was as calm as can be going in to the swim, which absolutely flew by. There were a few (okay, a lot) of the usual idiots seeding themselves way too optimistically who were resorting to breaststroke by the first buoy. Truthfully, my only tactic was just to plough through them. Maybe that’ll encourage them to be honest next time. I caught a sharp left hook to my jaw coming round on to the home straight and even managed to yell hello to friend of mine who was marshalling on his paddleboard. I finished on exactly the time I was predicting given that the swim was 100m long, finishing in 37 min when I had hoped for mid-35 over 1.9km. Ideal.
Twat hat on, shoes on, food in pockets… go. Straight on to the bike, gel, yell hi to another friend who had come through the swim in exactly the same time and out on to a bizarrely pleasant bike course. I busied myself rehydrating and refuelling, adjusting kit and bottles and was amazed when the first 5km split bleeped over as sub-10 minutes. I told myself not to get over excited and to slow down a bit. I thought I did. The second 5km split bleeped over sub-10. I was super careful about drafting so couldn’t understand how I could be cycling this fast when I usually have to be clinging on to a wheel for any chance at averaging over 30kph. So, I assumed that there must be a pretty hefty tailwind… but all the flags were drifting in my direction, not away from me. They were clearly confused. I got my head down and focused on a steady rhythm and tried to ignore everything around me lest it get my hopes up for a positive bike split. But I kept seeing my splits. Bleep – 9:31. Bleep – 9:26. At one point – Bleep – 8:44. WHAT IS GOING ON?! I’M CRAP AT CYCLING!! The biggest challenge I faced was when I got to 65km in 2:06 and convinced myself that I still had 35km to go until I finished the 90km ride. Maths has never been my strength. That one took a good 90 seconds to work out. As I rode down Um Suqeim I realised I was in for a PB on the bike, something I hadn’t dreamed of in the lead up. I ended up finishing the split with a 9 minute all time PB, over 20 minutes faster than I had been expecting.
I realised I had two hours and twenty minutes to run the half marathon and beat 6 hours. I started off a little ambitiously, running the first 3km at 5:30 pace before realising that this was potentially a bit much. So, I settled in to try to enjoy the run as much as possible. Every time I felt hot or heavy, I made myself think of how much pain I was in at Parkrun the previous week and of how running this much slower was way easier. Of how there was an aid station around the corner with Coca-Cola and ice cold sponges. Of how two of my best friends were on the track cheerleading whenever I went past. Of how I was, somehow, going to beat my previous time for the course. I avoided the bouncy green path as much as possible, sticking to the bricks which provided far more momentum and speed. I smiled at everyone instead of giving my usual ‘pray for me’ grimace. I saw so many people I knew including my Dubai parents, yelling and cheering as I bounced (yes, bounced) past. I finished without crossing the line stopping my Garmin and reflected on the fact that for the first time in years I had fully enjoyed a race. Every second of it.
I’m writing this the day after the race trying to work out why it went so well. I was incredibly happy to be repping the kit for my old club back in Wales who I will be re-joining this year, despite being in the UAE. The Newport East Wales Triathlon Club is responsible for me falling in love with this sport, and I cannot wait to be part of the 27-odd strong team of NEWTs heading to Ironman Wales this September. Two fellow NEWTs were there and seeing familiar faces from my UK racing days was just fantastic. I saw one of my training buddies absolutely smash our age group, finishing in 5:11 despite tech issues on her bike. I saw a work friend break down all his expectations and finishing almost an hour faster than he had anticipated, despite forgetting his goggles and his Garmin. Most hilariously, I saw my husband’s face switch comically from concern to utter confusion when he saw me smiling as I left the athlete village. A timing error had led him to believe I was almost half an hour slower than I actually was, so the poor bugger was preparing to deal with self-berating, pissed off and grumpy Harri, not positive, smiley and upbeat Harri.
All it can come down to is lack of pressure and a positive mental attitude. And a miraculous bike split.
T-10 days to Ironman Muscat 70.3…
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