Ironman Lanzarote, Saturday 20th May 2006.

Report by Dan Nolan

After 2 years of inactivity, I have finally written an article for the magazine to try to explain what the Lanzarote Ironman 2006 was like. I remember waiting on the start line for the swim, and wondering how this poor paddy ended up amongst a group of elite triathletes, in the dark, on a beach in Lanzarote. The story goes something like this:

I joined the Manchester Tri club in 2003 with Ben, who many will remember. We had seen the Commonwealth Games Triathlon, and were inspired, despite a complete lack of experience and fitness to give it a try. Ben found Dave Quartermain on the internet and organized a swimming lesson, and he pointed us in the direction of the tri club. Despite barely being able to swim 10 lengths, and not having been on a bike for 10 years, we took the plunge and paid up for Salford entry. By the time of the race, we had started swimming in the lower reaches of the triclub sessions, and reckoned we could finish the swim. We did finish the swim, though Ben had to breaststroke the second lap. Ben bought a second hand road bike, and I borrowed one, and we managed to finish overall in about 2 hours 45, at which stage I thought about nothing more than retiring.

We were still tri club new boys, and at the time there was little of the now flourishing social scene in evidence. The club was quite taciturn and intimidating. Jeff and Steve were the first people to make us feel welcome, and what a large effect a small greeting can have. The club has become more open and friendly place in the past year, and is scarcely recognizable from the club of 2 years ago. The entire board should take credit for this.

However, I digress. Flushed with success from our first attempt, we had a look round for another one to have a go at, and entered for Bala. Unfortunately, I was unable to find a road bike to use, and completed this ITU world cup event on a shopping bike with front and back carriers and three gears. It was funny to see the back carrier poking out from the row of carbon racing machines. Ben and I said hello to a couple of people who we saw in Manchester Tri gear, but were ignored, something which I don't think would happen now. I am not sure if they thought we were bringing shame on the club (they were all top end boys), but it left an impression. We both finished again in about 2:45, but I still remember how tired I was getting off the shopper, only to be met by that cliff that is the start of the run course.

So what was next? Had to be an Ironman, and after thorough research we reckoned Austria to be one of the easiest, and entered in 2004.

The Austrian Ironman was one of the best days out in my life. Despite a training regime derided by some as wholly inadequate, I felt great the whole way round. The support was amazing. The whole town gives itself over for the day with thousands of volunteers and hundreds of thousands of spectators. On the beach there were hot air balloons, thousands of spectators, a disco and a priest was up to his waist in the water giving the blessing "May the Lord add wings to your feet". 2 minutes later we were swimming and it was remarkably non violent, with none of the real aggression of an Olympic distance event. I finished the swim in just over an hour and spent 15 minutes in transition getting myself organized. The bike course was 3 loops, with 20K dead flat along the lake before 10K of climbing and a gradual descent back to the start. The beauty of this arrangement was 1/ The hill section, as it was short, was lined with people 2-3 deep who cheered you up; and 2/ Once you were halfway around the course you only had to climb the hill once more. At the top of the hill the second time around, I felt euphoric, knowing that barring disaster, I would finish. Mark Allen's pre- race briefing was stuck in my head. "If you are feeling comfortable on the bike", he said, "You are going too fast. It should feel easy". As I tried to maintain an easy pace on the first lap, Ben had come past saying he felt great, and disappeared into the distance. Having thought that I would not see him again that day, I was surprised to catch him again on the last lap of the bike. He was absolutely knackered, but carried on to finish. He was reduced from a sub 3 hour marathon time to almost 6, however which should be a warning to any first timer (I was to repeat the experience in Lanzarote, where going easy was not an option). Our entire group finished in reasonable shape, though I was dismayed to remove my running shoes, and to see my big toenails pointing vertically, with blood and clot underneath. That I had not felt them at all during the run gives an idea of how much pain the body can block out if necessary. The only anticlimax was arriving back to the UK after a splendid holiday in Slovenia.

It took several weeks to recover. Ben left Manchester to go to London, and gradually the whole thing faded. What was next? We entered for Brazil as it looked fairly easy with a dead flat bike, but a baby intervened, and I had to cancel. Ben went, and paced himself better to beat his Austrian time by nearly 2 hours. I was left with the nagging feeling that there was still the daddy of them all to do - Lanzarote. Early in the year, meaning a decent amount of training will have to be done through the winter, with 2551 metres of climbing on a bike course which is hilly through its entire length. By now, I had a new partner in crime, Mike Lodge, a Canadian with an engine like a JCB who never ever seemed to struggle. No matter how steep the hill, or how inclement the weather, he would easily outpace me, and wait at the top, always with a smile on his face. Finally, in the middle of winter I told him that I was going to see that smile wiped off his f*****g face, and made him enter for Lanzarote.

Now Austria was fine. It was the kind of course you could tap around taking it fairly easy on and finish fairly comfortably. Lanzarote was harder than I could ever have imagined.

The swim was quite nice, but it took a long time to get any clear water as there were 2 waves a minute apart. It was more of a bun fight than Austria had been as I think overall the standard was higher. In Austria there had been a few larger size triathletes knocking about. I think I was the fattest person competing in lanzarote (the same I'm afraid could not be said of the tourists). The water was lovely and warm though, and you could see shoals of fish beneath. We finished the swim in an hour, which was remarkable, as it had felt easy. The bike was a different matter.

We drove the course the day after the race, and if I had actually seen it first, I would never have entered. Dean Frost had been out there training a couple of months before the race and said that the hills weren't too bad as long as the wind was behind you. Well they were, and it wasn't. 45 mph winds straight into our faces as we cycled up the island up all the major climbs for the first 130K. And heat, blistering heat through the fields of black ash, which make up most of the island. The trouble with the bike was that by the time we finally turned for home, the last of the big hills and the wind finally behind us, we were too knackered to enjoy it. I spent the last 40k slumped on my tri bars. When we arrived on the Thursday before the race, the palm trees were horizontal in the wind, and the beaches were deserted as the sand was being blasted across them. It was not a pleasant sight. Fortunately, it eased off somewhat, but you get an idea what it was like. The number got blown off my back twice during the race. I can honestly say it was the hardest thing I have ever done. At one point we cycled past someone who had just fallen onto the roadside, and was lying down, still in perfect cycling position, still clipped into the pedals as an ambulance pulled up alongside. The other amazing sight was the professionals looping back past us about 20k into the cycle, already 25k ahead. I do not know how someone can physically shift a bike so fast.

I was really tired starting the marathon, and though I knew I could finish well inside the cut-off, I was wary of a complete collapse. I took it very easy, walking a lot, but after 15k, I could not take any more food or water on board. I saw big men in tears at the roadside, shattered beyond their limits, one of who was a full lap ahead of me. I also saw Mike, still grinning from ear to ear on each lap, about half a lap ahead. The run was mercifully flat, and I was even able to nip into a pub and check the rugby result (Go Munster). I carried a banana for 20k before throwing it away, unable to get down even a mouthful. Finally, as darkness set, I finished in 14 hours 50, crossing the line with my brother. I was over 2 hours slower than Austria, despite being fitter, and having pushed myself right to the brink. I felt OK crossing the line, but about 20 minutes later as we cued for our certificates I collapsed and awoke in the back of an ambulance. It was 2 hours and 3 drips before I was able to drag myself out of bed and around the corner to our flat, which we had chosen 50m from the start line, mainly so we could have a later start in the morning.

The next couple of days were as usual fantastic, eating, drinking and reminiscing. Mike's achievement was highlighted in a conversation with some of my brother's colleagues from London who had also finished. They were talking about the Eton sprint triathlon, saying that a lot of people did it as a first triathlon as it was sprint distance. The Lanzarote Ironman, in the hardest conditions for years, was Mike's first ever triathlon of any sort! For some reason he kept thanking me for making him do it. It is I who remain deeply in his debt, for his support and friendship throughout a long cold winter's training.

I now muse about the allure of such an event. Why do it? I think I did Austria for two reasons; the kudos, and to prove to myself that I could do such a thing.

Why then Lanzarote? It's notorious, it's early, and it's open for entry until late on. It is also the Daddy, and I just knew we had to give it a go at some stage, and it might as well be now. Triathlon is a very selfish pursuit. There is no team glory. It is not really a spectator sport that the family can enjoy, but I think that all the time we are training, we are not doing anyone any harm, and there is a lot to be said for that.

If anyone is thinking of giving the IM a go, then go for it. It is a great thing to do, and not, (Lanzarote in the wind and the heat excepted), as bad as people make out.

Finally, I would like to mention the people who I find inspiring in the club. The most inspiring people are the ordinary quiet ones who do extraordinary things. Jonathan Dabbs finishing FIFTH in the Wilmslow half marathon; Jane in lane 2 swimming the channel and never ever saying anything about it; the lad who ran the Marathon des Sables this year; Clio who shows that anything is possible, and most of all Dave Quartermain. Dave won the round Manhattan race, beating all the very best distance swimmers in the world over 29 miles, yet still finds the energy and enthusiasm to put into our sorry efforts in the pool session after session. He, more than anyone, is the heartbeat of the tri-club. Jeff, who never fails to amaze and entertain, deserves a special mention for his unfailing generosity, and for being my first real friend in the tri-club. Also all of the people who work so hard to make the tri-club tick- most of the club now play a part, but the board have been fantastic this year especially.

I thank you all.

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