Triathlon Europe

Ironman booze.

I woke up on Sunday morning with a thumping headache; my first hangover in years after my first drinks in 8 months. Saturday evening was a revelation. What was a group of strangers to me about a year ago, members of Triathlon Europe were at my home, drinking and eating.

It has been an exciting summer for us all, Ironman France, Challenge Roth and a plethora of hours spent collectively on our bikes and in our speedos. Sweating under the heat, sticky from the splash back of nutrition products and discoloured from botched kit/sun block jobs. We were a team and at our prime physical fitness (albeit reeking for most of it).

So what did we consume that night? About 4 bottles of vodka, 1 bottle of gin, 2 bottles of champagne, 3 bottles of wine and a bottle of vermouth. And what possessed us? Our achievements, we earned it!

As we take time off to recover and digest our "A" race, we look forward to planning our future events and strategy. As predicted, we are all addicts! Until then, to get us through our tough Ironman Blues, there are plenty of opportunities to catch up with out social lives.

After all, a team that drinks together, stinks together.

Dear Fiona.

I remember meeting my first Ironman in 2002. This was before I started running and long before I contemplated entering the world of triathlon. He was my hero; nothing could be more difficult than an Ironman.

And now, a little over a year since my first swim and ride and exactly one one year since my first triathlon, I am an Ironman. I owe this all to you, Coach. It was a fantastic experience, from start to finish.

Swim - 1:13:25

The start of the race and the highest concentration of athletes. All 2,500 of us, lined up on the famous pebble beach of Nice, waiting for the gun to go. The most memorable moment was aiding an octogenarian over the pebbled beach and into the water. She was from Florida and this was her 20th Ironman. As a result, I started at the back of the group and had a pretty rough ride throughout, the peak being when a swimmer kicked sea water into my mouth (and consequently causing me to throw up). Regardless, it was wonderful being out in the open and no matter what anyone says, the most exciting part of these races is the start. Your heart is beating, your nerves are high and the adrenaline is pumping. Bliss.

Transition 1 - 8:52

"WTF, were you putting on make-up!?". Yep, that's you Fi, berating me for taking so long during T1! The reality is I took a long shower to get the salt water off my body (to stop potential chaffing) and ate a bit seeing as I had the unfortunate incident during the swim.

Bike - 6:08:01

Loved every minute of it. Flying up the hills and feeling stronger than ever given the miles from the Alps and the trip you arranged to go to Nice and scope the course. Thank you. This was my weakest discipline and I have come so far.

Transition 2 - 6:06

Better, lots of sun tan lotion and onto the run, my favourite part.

Run - 3:42:45

A tough challenge but I stayed full of energy, this was the moment I has been waiting for all along, the carrot dangling at the end of the stick. My beloved run, finally! Unfortunately, school boy error running through a shower and getting my shoes soaked, which was awfully painful towards the end, but a stop in the medical tent sorted it out.

11:19:09 - I am an Ironman.

The finish line was in sight, and I sprinted, a new burst of energy. Tarek, you are an Ironman, you've done it. Thank you, Coach. I can't wait for my next challenge.

It ain't over till it's over.

It has been over 6 years since I started running, over 5 years since my first marathon, just over a year since I started swimming and cycling and exactly one year since my first triathlon. In just over a week, I shall be competing in my very first Ironman.

Thinking back on my first marathon, I remember devising a plan to help from a psychological perspective; counting the miles backwards (26, 25, 24, 23...), giving myself treats throughout like a gel when I make it to mile 10 or listening to music for bursts of time. Other inspirations include raising money for a good cause and most importantly, having moral support along the way.

Never underestimate the power of supporters. Write your name on your t-shirt, have a random person scream it out, get yourself a second wind. For me, having friends cheer you on has been invaluable, and this time, my family will be joining me as well.

Reflecting back on my inexperience, at the start line of my first marathon and my first triathlon, I find myself in the exact same situation all over again. Nerves up to my throat and a thumping heartbeat whenever anyone reminds me how close the race is.

"You've done all the hard work, now just enjoy it".

But how does one prepare for an Ironman? Training for starters. In the last six months, I have dedicated 364 hours to training, this is how it breaks down:
1. 150 hours of biking (2,250 miles or 3,600 km).
2. 62 hours of swimming (97 miles or 155 km).
3. 75 hours of running (600 miles or 960 km).
4. 37 hours of strength exercises (gym work).
5. 40 hours of other forms of training (racing, brick sessions, stretching etc.).
That's an average of 15 hours a week, with the peak being 23 hours. So, why the worry?

Well, this is my first Ironman. So the uncertainty is there more than ever. It's not about finishing at a great time, it's not about winning, it's not about breaking a personal best in any of the disciplines, it is about survival and making it to the finish line. As I keep being reminded, an Ironman is not like doubling a 70.3, it's an altogether different endurance race. If you've done the physical training, it's about the mental endurance, being in a positive frame of mind and making sure you can overcome your negative thinking.

So, this is my last blog until the big day, I do hope you have enjoyed reading about my experiences. I promise to write a race review afterwards but until then, please give me all the support you can muster. This can be in the form of "likes" on Facebook, messages, wall posts, texts, emails, calls, physical presence and donations to Keep a Child Alive. Thanks to all those who have had to endure my rants, with me being missing during peak training season and my general unsocial exhaustion! You all mean so much to me, look forward to a beer together soon.

Super, Mario!

Four weeks before the big day and I find myself on the run leg of Ironman 70.3 St Polten, the last of many practice races. Sprinting past a number of athletes, the screams from the German-speaking spectators was inspiring. You're going strong, I kept thinking, just a few more kilometres to the finish line.

A few days before heading out to Austria, it was looking unlikely that I would compete in my very first M-dot race. Major obstacles at work, BA strikes and other matters made a simple journey quite stressful. "It would be good to have an official M-dot race under your belt before Nice", said coach Fi, "just so you're aware of the atmosphere and you can practice any strategies, such as nutrition, before your A-race." Boy was she right.

Firstly, if you haven't done an M-dot race, it is like nothing you have experienced before. The crowds, the volume, the quality of the athletes, the bling, it's overwhelming and very intimidating.

For this race, I was trying out the following for the first time: carbon race wheels (complete with tubular tyres as opposed to standard clinchers), compression calf guards and concentrated nutrition with profile bottle during the bike leg. (The latter involves formulating a concentrated liquid of about four portions, marking the bottle and creating the mixture in your profile bottle with the water that's handed out during the race).

Arriving at the hotel late on Friday evening (after our chartered Titan Airways flight from London to Vienna), I assembled the bike with the kind help of Martin Lynch (a few team members of Triathlon Europe got there the day before). Part of the preparation was figuring out a way to carry a tubular tyre with me (these cannot fit into a normal saddle bag). Folding the tyre four times and placing a gas cannister and lever into it, I taped the entire mass to my seat post. "There's a one in a million chance of getting a flat on tubular tyres".

We got to the race site for preparation on Saturday morning. Unlike other races, this event operated with clean transitions (just like Ironman France); your kit is kept in bags within the transition areas with space to change in tents, therefore no clutter around the bikes. Three bags were provided: "Street Wear", "Bike" and "Run". With the exception of your Street Wear bag, all had to be filled and handed in the day before the race. There is no room for error.

On the morning of the race, we arrived with plenty of time to get to our bikes and fill our water bottles. Nothing was left for us to do but get changed into our swim wear and prepare for the start. Martin and I were part of the first wave, we changed and got to the start line just in time to see the pros head out 5 minutes before us, soon enough, I was bobbing up and down in the water, ready to go.

Swim - 35:29

Nervously waiting for the countdown, I stared to my left and at the bank we stood on before entering the water. It was full of first wave participants, looking to my right, ahead of me and behind me, I realised I was smack in the middle of the action with little room to manoeuvre. Not good. The gun went off and the first thing I felt was a kick in the jaw, followed by a slap in the face. Carnage. My goggles came loose and filled with water. I swam a few metres ahead and let people go by, sticking to the side of the pack, I swam the rest of the distance comfortably.

Transition 1 - 8:28

Out of the water and into transition area 1. Some athletes had put flowers on their bags to differentiate it from the masses. I grabbed my bag and headed into the tent. It was a windy and muggy day, do I take my gloves or not? I packed everything into this bag, from leg warmers to the kitchen sink. Why? I could not find my gloves. Tipping everything onto the floor, I managed to scramble around and retrieve them.

Bike - 3:01:45

Off and away, 90km of flat with an 8km hill towards the end of the ride, racing with tubs felt great and my average speed was 32kmph. 20km through, a man in a police bike zoomed by screaming and pointing at my rear wheel. I had a flat. It took me 14 minutes to change my tub, a notoriously time consuming process. Inflating the tire was also a nightmare, I finished up the gas canister and the wheel was only half inflated. (Later would I realise that my extension valve was not screwed on tight enough). Stuffing the old tyre into my back pocket, I decided to go ahead and finish the bike course with caution. "Watch out on corners with tubs that aren't fully inflated, they could come off the rim".

Transition 2 - 4:03

Into the transition area and time to switch tops. (Completely inefficient, will not happen on race day as I shall compete in a two piece tri suit). Smoother than T1, I head out onto the last leg of the race looking forward to my strongest discipline.

Run - 1:30:13

About 8km into the run course, I decide to take a gel. Reaching into my back pocket, I feel around and find nothing. They must have fallen out into the bag. At the next aid station, I grab a Powerbar gel, shoving its contents into my mouth, I gag and spit it out again. It was a tough run but I pushed ahead despite my depleting energy levels. What else could go wrong?

A few kilometres to the finish line, the crowds were still strong. I ran past Mario, a slightly heavier athlete. "Zupa, Mario!" came a shout from the spectators "Zupa, Tarek!". Despite all the technicalities of triathlon racing, and all the hours of training, it is almost impossible to predict what will happen on the big day. Regardless, we can enter the race prepared, by listening to our coach and focusing on our goals. After all, this is a choice for most of us, we have to approach it with an open mind, willing to learn from our mistakes as well as experiences. Oh, and a little bit of comedy helps along the way.

How do you like dem apples?

A few months ago, preparing for my first half Ironman distance event, I was briefed by coach Fi as to what I should be eating in preparation for the big day. Fi's advice was simple: load up on carbs. Eat pasta, rice and potatoes, snack on bananas and bagels. Essential for replenishing your glycogen levels.

Two weeks before the race, and 38 bagels 84 bananas later, I was pretty much fed up with the routine. On my weekly lunch trip to the supermarket from work, I decided to go off tangent and buy bags of apples, clementines and raisins (as well as the usual suspects). The sweet and juicy nectar of flavour, at last. A few forbidden pieces of fruit later, it was time for my run. All revved up and ready to go, I left my work place and headed to Hyde Park for my usual one hour tempo session.

It was a warm day, and as the miles increased, layers started coming off. About 20 minutes into the run, my stomach started to rumble, a sensation I was not familiar with; I needed a toilet, fast. Clutching my abdomen, I went off road and into the tree lined edges that separated the path from the centre of the park. Frantically, I searched for a cafe or some sort of public facility, all throughout I contemplated: "worse comes to worst, you can go behind that tree, or by that wall away from pedestrians." Readers will be happy to hear that I did manage to find a more kosher outpost.

"Cut off all fibre from your diet, that includes fruit and brown bread."

Nutrition is a key part of an Ironman race, as a recent trip to the French Alps as part of Triathlon Europe's Ironman Training Camp has taught me. Knowing when to eat what and how much is crucial in surviving the gruesome 12 hours you are going to put your body through.

What should be consumed? Well, other than the generic rules mentioned earlier, it is all a matter of taste and preference. My routine is as follows:

1. Load up on carbs before the race (no fibre!).
2. A day before the race, sip on a carbohydrate drink, anything rich in maltodextrin will do.
3. On race day, have a decent breakfast 2 hours before the start (the usual breakfast your body is accustomed to, don't experiment).
4. After the swim, take in some energy drink before getting on the bike and head off.
5. Throughout the bike ride, consume 3 energy bars and 3 bottles of energy drink, pacing yourself throughout the ride by cutting them into accesible pieces and setting reminders.
6. 20 minutes before getting off the bike, take in a gel.
7. 15 minutes into every hour of the run, consume a gel and drink water throughout the run (at every aid station) but not to excess.

Having ridden four major Cols in the Alps and watched athletes I admire bonk (some of whom have already completed an Ironman race), simply because they have not consumed enough calories, highlights how important having a nutrition strategy is. Having a time to test it out, like the excellent backdrop of the Alps, is also so important.

Nerves, excitement and the pure rush of adrenalin can be our friends if we let them. Until I reach that stage, I will stick to the plan but this time with a packet of Imodium at hand.

Heads, shoulders, knees and toes.

Remember hearing your voice recorded for the first time? Well, watching a video of yourself swim for the first time is pretty similar. Lots of "I don't look like that, do I?" and "That's not really me, is it?"

Regardless, your first time is an eye-opening experience. It highlights your flaws and forces you to take a step back and listen to what your coach has been saying all along:
1. Keep your head down and look at the floor of the pool.
2. When breathing, rotate your head so one eye is out of the water and your chin touches your shoulder.
3. Do not bend your knees but keep them relaxed.
4. Stretch out your feet and point out your toes.

The most important thing for me though was realising that my hand entry into the water had vastly improved. Coach Fi said that it took 10,000 strokes to correct improper habits, had it really been that long? In any case, fingers straight into the water at a 45 degree angle, effectively "catching" the mass in front of you, then following through to your hip and out near your thigh (see here for an excellent animation or the amusing "Bill has a long nice stroke" quote).

Next step: ensuring I don't use as much leg power as I currently do as I had better save my energy there for the bike and run, eh?

Is that a pistol in your pocket?

Finally, some good news.

On Sunday, I completed my first official run since the NYC Marathon in 2008. It was an awkward race, 16 miles consisting of two 8 mile laps around Kingston and Hampton Court Palace, but I completed it and managed to exceed my expectations.

The morning of the 11th was quite cold, the sun was not out and the winds were high. I find racing a logistical nightmare, especially in the UK where the weather can be so unpredictable: do I take a jacket? Where do I leave my bag? Will I need gloves? Suffice to say, it always works out in the end.

Close to the start line, my Garmin gave in, I was under strict instruction to run at a 7.5 mile/min pace as I had a tendency to push myself too hard. What to do? Well, the distances are clearly marked along the way so all I need to look out for is a clock of some sort. We set off at 8:25am. It was a great feeling, a little cold but the crowds were out and I had my gloves to warm my fingers up.

Halfway through the race and no clocks in sight. How fast was I going? And then I remembered Coach Fi's advice: "halfway through the race, take an energy gel and some water". I reached into my back pocket and took out a pack, vanilla, not coffee, yummy. In it went and a few meters later, out it came. I could not stomach it. I tried to take in some water and energy drink, but my body rejected everything.

At mile 12, the sun came out. I was nervous and overheated; with my full-length black lycra pants and long-sleeved black lycra top. I took off my gloves and, having nowhere to put them, rolled them into a ball and tucked them into my pants. I picked up my pace; "go for it", I told myself, "you only have 4 miles left". And I ran, at my most comfortable pace.

I crossed the finish line 1 hour and 48 minutes into the race, beating my 2 hour run estimate and, despite the setbacks, obliterating any doubts I had in my running abilities. I came 10th in my age group.

Queueing to collect my bag, I had a smug look on my face, and people noticed. Stares came from all directions; first there was eye contact then, wait a minute, they were staring at my crotch... my gloves! I quickly yanked them out of my shorts and ducked for the closest shelter. "Is that how you fetch your prey?" remarked a runner next to me.

Well, we can all dream of having successful and multi-faceted careers like Mae West, but until then, the hope that I am that one step closer to being an Ironman should suffice... touch wood.

Olly olly oxen free.

It has been a while but a lot has been going on: a 71 mile Cyclo Sportive, my dreaded knee injury, the wonders of ITB rolling, being filmed underwater and the flu! Not to mention a hectic work life with lots of long-haul travel. That's a lot to talk about and I shall discuss most of these soon.

Today, however, I am proud to announce that my phobia for cycling is over.

Last Thursday, I arrived in Nice to spend four days with coach Fi and other members of Triathlon Europe. The plan was to stay in Gattieres (the first village in the mountains along the Ironman France course) and essentially scope out the task ahead in June. On that same evening, over dinner, we were briefed on the agenda and presented with the profile of the bike course:

The course involves climbing, from sea level, to 1,120m; this includes a 21km climb. The only thing going through my head at that moment was: "what the hell have I signed up to do".

The agenda for the next four day was as follows:
Friday: First Half of the bike mountainous course, including that infamous 21km climb.
Saturday: Second half of the mountainous bike course, trying to master the winding descents.
Sunday: A 13 mile run along the marathon course in Nice.
Monday: The entire mountainous bike course (140km).

There was no backing out, we loaded ourselves with carbs, assembled our bikes and went to bed at 10pm. At 8am, we were greeted with a lovely continental breakfast. After a few cups of coffee and some toast, we were on our way out, the sun on our backs and the wind in our face. The next few hours were surprising.

A slight ascent out of Gattieres and some smooth riding for about an hour, we reached the start of our main climb. It lasted for about an hour. Riding off and on the saddle, I began to realise that all the strength training on the turbo at home and all those leg squats were not completed in vain. Just over two hours into the ride, we reached the peak; from here on, it was all downhill.

The descent was sharp, with many hairpins and strong headwinds. After a few kilometres, I began to realise that I was burning more fuel than I was climbing; spinning faster and faster, the roads felt like they were covered in treacle. Four hours into the ride, we reached Vence, the village next to Gattieres where our ride would end. My neck and shoulders were tense, my body physically exhausted, stomach empty and craving anything with salt. We rode back to Gattieres and I collapsed, unable to go for our 30 minute post-bike run. Discussing my new-found fright of descents with the team, they told me to relax and focus on the apex of the turns; getting stressed aids the build-up of lactic acid in the muscles and does more harm.

After a sleepless night, Saturday arrived. We set off after breakfast, to complete the second half of the course, focusing mainly on the descent. At the top of the mountain, an hour into the ride, we started our return back. This time I got down on the drops of my handlebars, helping stretch out my back and improve my grip on the brakes. Relax. On the way down, I focused on the road; "you have chosen to do this, because it's fun, not a chore" I kept telling myself. Relax. In no time, we were back in Gattieres, I was feeling fresh went for a 30 minute run, keeping a steady marathon pace.

On the last day of the camp, we did the entire loop of the mountain: 140km. It took me about 5 hours and it went by like a dream. All it takes is giving in, exposing yourself and letting go. Relax. After four days of intense training, I am even closer to becoming an Ironman, with massive help from Triathlon Europe.

 

 

Sunshine on my shoulders, makes me happy.

I woke up this morning to the pitter patter of rain against the window. The only thing that got me out of bed at 8am was the thought of a hot cup of coffee. Then came the waiting.

9am, 10am, 11am, noon. The rain stopped.

In 15 minutes, I was out of the door with my bike. This was my first outdoor ride since bonking before Christmas, it was a big deal. 3.5 hours around Richmond Park, with a strong emphasis on the hills and riding off the saddle, just like on the turbo but outdoors and in the cold.

An hour into the ride and I was already counting down the minutes. It was damp, there were deep puddles on the road and the wind was a deterrent, especially when going uphill. I hated it. Then my body started warming up, my toes began to thaw and the kit I has just spent a small fortune on began to do what it had promised all along, keep the cold away.

Halfway point.

I finally got a rhythm going, settled into a nice pace and had the hills under control. It felt great. And to set the scene perfectly, the sun came out. Reflecting on the puddles of water and warming the air. Heaven. I finished my target and headed on home for a pre-ordered pizza (yes, I'm so good, I can call and cycle at the same time). As coach Fi always says, it's about getting out there and doing the miles. Cycling is my worst discipline, but I'm getting there, with the help of John Denver too.

Shedding Bricks.

"Mr Mouganie called in to see me this afternoon after he had developed a painful left foot while training for a triathlon. In retrospect, the pain came on soon after he experimented with a new pair of trainers incorporating Velcro straps."

"On examination, the only finding was some crepitus in the line of the extensor hallucis tendon where it ran over the midtarsal joint."

"Tests were unremarkable."

"The diagnosis appears to be tenosynovitis. Some anti-inflammatory gel should help to resolve the matter, then Mr Mouganie will revert to trainers with the traditional laces!"

There you have it, a gimpy tendon due to bad shoes. Nice one. Once I knew the cause, I'm pretty sure the pain in my foot halved straight away. In any case, it has been a week of gelling my foot in the morning and the evenings as well as wearing sneakers to work. Not a good combo when you have a shirt and trousers on; I have felt like an American movie star at an awards ceremony - bad fashion and a lot of stares. In any case, what may seem unremarkable to an orthopaedic surgeon (how boring, nothing is broken) is remarkable to me - I can finally start running again.

My first foray back to running was last Saturday and it involved a brick session; a one hour bike ride followed by a short run.

Brick sessions are great; they simulate triathlons and get your body and mind prepared for what is indisputably the most difficult transition during the race. You never forget your first one, mine was a complete disaster.

A month before my Olympic distance race in 2009, I decided to test my legs after a bike ride. After a one hour in Richmond Park, I got off the bike to complete a two mile run. I unclipped myself as soon as I got back home from my ride, jumped off the saddle and ran out the door towards the park. My legs did not respond. It's a difficult feeling to describe, your thighs and calves are made of stone and your knees turn to jelly. Nothing works.

So, where does the term "brick" come from? Is the "B" for bike and the "R" for run? Probably. Is it because you feel like a pile of bricks for the first 15 minutes after coming off the bike. Probably. Some people have suggested "running with your hands" as a solution (this means moving your hands back and forth vigorously when running to simulate movement like you see in cartoons). Even though this may help psychologically, it can look stupid. The only thing I find that helps is training. Only practice makes perfect. Last weekend was leaps and bounds better, merely a year into triathlon training.

Today, I have come away from my injury as a changed person. For one, don't be a victim of fancy shoes (mine are now in a charity shop), and most importantly, injuries are a pain in the rear and not just the foot. I look forward to a pure 30 minute run today and another brick session this weekend.