​This past year has presented me with enormous life challenges, both personally and at work. Was it the masochist in me that led me to add to these challenges by taking on the physical challenge of an Ironman. Was it ego, that I was determined that though my head be bloodied, I would prove to the world it would remain unbowed. Was it just the right time, after years of dabbling in different sports, to bring it all together. Why now?

At the pre-race briefing, which I attended with Eugene and Sue, I saw a muscular blonde woman I recognized from the TV because she had climbed Everest a few years back. I pointed her out to Eugene but could not remember her name. Later research revealed her to be Lee den Hond, the third South African woman to achieve this feat. It occurred to me that she summited Everest before attempting Ironman. I remember Paul Kaye warning us about "race brain" the next morning. 
Our home for the weekend, Aristotle Guest House, played host to a motley crew of Sue and I, three Australians and a South African father and son outfit. One of the Australians was a leggy female brunette called Annabel. One of the two blokes was a diminutive and deeply tanned blonde named Simon. The third was an absurdly tall yet oddly pudgy fellow whose name I didn't catch. The son was Shakir who drove down from Joburg with his dad Hassan in support. Shakir quickly identified himself as a grass-green novice. This was not only his first ever triathlon, but he was riding a 16 year old road bike, had never swum in the sea before and wore a pharmacy shelf on his neck in terror of wetsuit chafe. Shakir had set himself a monumental task for 2016, what he called the big 6. The Duzi, the Argus Cycle Tour, some hike in the Northern Cape, Ironman, Comrades and the 94.7 Cycle Challenge. He had already completed two of the 6 and Ironman was next on his bucket list.
At the Boardwalk registration I noted that a shade under 1870 athletes had entered Ironman PE in 2016. Of those athletes some 200 did not start the race. 
My race brain kicked in big time on race morning. I had decided not to take my cellphone with me. Sue dropped me off on Marine Drive and I walked along the beachfront in the dark, along with the other athletes silently contemplating the day ahead. When I arrived at transition I suddenly realised I had forgotten to pack the bottles so carefully mixed the night before – and left in the  bar fridge. I immediately flipped into panic mode. A kindly soul named Ridwaan agreed to call Sue for me but of course, I wasn't entirely sure what her number was without my phone. He dialled what I thought was the number but without success. He even called the guesthouse but there was no answer. I then had to get hold of someone with (a) a cellphone and (b) Sue's number. Lucie was the obvious answer. I entered into transition looking around desperately. The first person I saw who I knew was Marko Albert. Although as a pro he had every reason to be focussed only on his own race, he kindly called Lucie for me. She was standing at the fence very close by. "It's a disaster" I blurted out and explained my predicament. Lucie calmed me down and called Sue who was back at the guesthouse. Without fuss or frills they made an arrangement to meet, while I was to return to the same spot every 10 minutes for an update. Kim was standing by and gave me updates every few minutes on Lucie's progress. By 05h55 Lucie was back and had given the bottles to the race referees who by the time I found them had already put the bottles onto my bike. All sorted. So my addled race brain got by with some help from my friends – thanks to all of you who helped me.
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The swim was beautiful though I found the sighting very difficult on the way out due to the swell and to my poor eyesight. At the half way point I was at 40 minutes but came back pretty straight and hit the beach at 1:15 after a peaceful and enjoyable swim.
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​The bike leg was incredibly long and dare I say it, lonely. Despite being an experienced cyclist I am not used to long rides without companions and could not believe I was still riding after 13h00. I found myself longing to see someone from Trifactri but could not seem to pass or be passed by any friendly faces. Some parts of the ride I remember with the utter clarity of the present, other parts I drifted in and out of presence.

There was a Staffie running down the highway in the middle of the road. Here was a Czech named Vaclav struggling up the hill. There a lost bottle on a speed bump. Here a one-armed Frenchman named Olivier, in tuck position. There a dropped chain after a hard climb. Aristotle, Aristotle, was a bugger for the bottle. The lack of human contact on the ride is something I was warned about but still felt keenly. This changed only when about 10km from home I saw at last the familiar Trifactri colours, and rode up behind James. After a few words of greeting I left him behind, with some regret.  A 5:27 for the ride was not what I was aiming for but it was still respectable.
Into T2 I was feeling ok even if the heat was getting to me. I set out on the run and about 1km in, Grant and Sue jumped out at me, cheering their heads off and shouting "You're nearly there!" I retorted: "I've only got 41 km to go!". Craig would rightly fine them for this remark at the Trifactri Braai. Shortly thereafter James got his revenge and skipped past me. 
It was then that the demon I had feared and dreaded slammed open the closet door. In the build up to the race I had suffered from long nights at the office, a severe sinus infection which stopped me training for a week, and then with 10 days to go, a debilitating stomach ailment. It was diagnosed as gastritis and I went through a course of treatment and stayed off training for the second week in a row. But I could not shake the feeling of painful nausea in my guts. 
As I moved into the second kilometre, I felt the all too familiar sensation, the painful twist and churn. How could I possibly run a marathon like this? The race became a blur. Inside me was an alien twisting and turning and gnawing, looking for a weak point to burst out of my chest and bare the fangs of its double mouth. Is quitting so bad? I looked around for Ripley, hoping she would burst out of the crowd with her blaster cannon and kill me as an act of mercy. I was dimly aware of the heat and thirst. Lucie said I was doing well Alex, but she could not see the alien. Vomiting would not help I knew, just totally dehydrate me. FUBAR. I tried to repeat the lines of Wilfred Owen's poetry I had adapted for this race. Only hazily they came to me: "I balanced all, brought all to mind. The years ahead seemed waste of breath, a waste of breath the years behind. In balance with this life, this death."
But I was not dying and this was not a choice between life and death, as it was for the Portuguese sailors trudging along Algoa Bay. This was a race which I had chosen to run. I crested the hill on the city side of the course, with the third band on my wrist. As I turned I felt a cool breeze in my face. Like morning mist on the lake, the miasma in my gut dissipated and my brain cleared. Ahead lay 15km but I knew I would make it. Now the question was how long it would take? 

A volunteer escorted me to the Streetwear bag collection tent. On the way Lucie met me and congratulated me on my sub 11. What? She showed me on her phone. 10.59.37. Phew, just as well I hadn't backed off when my initial goals faded from view. My race brain had miscalculated my starting time.
The others? You all know what happened to the Trifactri crew. Annabel Luxford is a professional athlete who crushed a 4:49 bike leg to get off the bike first, but who faded on the run to finish 5th overall. Simon Johnson did a 9:43 and qualified for Kona in the 35-39 age group. Lee den Hond had scaled Everest with a bunch of Canadians in May 2013, but today she got a DNF. Shakir Dudhia finished at 23h42, in sixteen hours, twenty eight minutes and thirty two seconds. His dad Hassan was there to cheer him in. Tick that one off the list. They stayed to watch the last athlete not to make it.
Of the 72 Portuguese sailors who made it to shore, 63 perished on their slow odyssey along the coast. The remaining 9 made it to Delagoa Bay, crawling in on 16 January 1648, more than six months of suffering after their ship ran aground. By midnight on race day, over 1560 athletes had finished Ironman PE 2016. No more than 150 athletes started but failed to finish. Only a handful truly raced the event. Why was there such a discrepancy in the success rates?  Maybe, just maybe, there's no need to choose between life and death when you can choose to live on the edge of both

It’s been difficult to put a race report together for my Ironman at the African Championships last week. The outcome seems to have overshadowed the race itself. 

I’ve been playing this game for a few years now and been following Ironman racing for a lot longer. After a few disappointments, and some time away I wanted a special last Ironman.  My plan was to finish my career and have a race that I would be proud of. No expectations, no time, no place, no goals. 

Our age group is insanely competitive. At least 5 top athletes from Trifactri alone, add a few sub-9 hour finishers, then half of Europe and the usual mix of strong Saffa’s, making a top 20 place is a great result. So no expectation or pressure to place well… just a plan to perform in my last race. 

Now this made me a nervous wreck… All of a sudden, instead of competing against others or the clock, it felt like I was against myself. Despite a brief and near perfect build up with a very well managed training plan, I was now threatening to derail it all with sleeplessness, tight shoulders and wasting nervous energy.

Fortunately, the pre-race night glass of wine (or the second one maybe…) calmed me down, and I actually had a really good sleep.  I was still a little tense on the morning, but it all calmed down as I approached the beach.  I saw my wife and kids, my coach and then some of my best and longstanding friends from the sport.  It all seemed to be going in the right direction for my last race. 

I was into the water without a hitch, and had a quick jiggle to settle the wetsuit. This is where I like the rolling start, as you are not under pressure from hundreds of people, and can spend 15 seconds composing yourself. The downside of the rolling start is that you don’t have hundreds of people pressurizing you - so I bumbled along at a pace a little too easy. 

Even though I felt a little slow, I had a (legal) drafter who kept slapping my feet for about 2km’s of the swim. I don’t mind drafting and the odd tap, but this was ridiculous. I eventually dragged him diagonally through the middle of another group, threw in a sharp turn and lost him…. Painful, irritating person – go away.

I exited the swim a little disappointed with my time, but considering tight shoulders and stress, not too bad. What I did realize is that I felt stronger than ever after a swim.  Things were going to plan, so quickly through T1 and then hammer the bike.

​Despite feeling really good coming out of T2 – I was a little concerned that my gamble of an easier bike had perhaps backfired. I spotted some familiar faces about 2-4km ahead at the turnaround and despite the rolling start I knew they were 10-20 minutes ahead. 

Now with a little bit more determination, I stubbornly I stuck to my plan. Off I went to try something new in my last race – run up through the field and finish with a flourish. 

My first half marathon came past in 1:40, - spot on with plan, and I was still feeling like I had a lot more to give. It’s not often you get to that stage so strong, but I’ve been to this rodeo a few times…. And I know that things can go wrong. 

Despite big and supportive crowds, I now shut them out, and was really focused on my run, my cadence, my posture, my pace, my foot strike, any twinge in a hamstring. I kept saying… 21km’s, 90 minutes, 15kms until I’m done with this.  My last race. At 28km’s I was still strong and looking at flat or negative run splits… and then….

Too much coke, too fast, not enough air, too much air, not enough nutrition, too hot, too many sponges… I don’t know and I didn’t see it coming. What I do know about the next 6km’s is the following: 
•    I seem to have a favourite spot for vomiting on Marine Drive
•    A side stitch is painful
•    Two side stitches are unbearable. 
•    Rennies work for indigestion and are chewable
•    Nurofen works for pain and ARE NOT CHEWABLE… Do not try this at home
•    I survived. 

I couldn’t run – every time I bounced, I halved in height and doubled over.  New plan - I quickly learnt a straight leg shuffle – actually very effective if you have tight hamstrings and hip flexors like me!!! It’s a quite similar movement to some of our track warm-up drills!!

Frustratingly, I knew my legs were good, my head was good, and my heart was in it, but I needed this to pass. As horrible as this was, it was only 6km’s and 35-40 minutes (but along the entire length of the crowded beach front). As I came to fetch my last of four bands, I slowly felt human and got back into a stride. 

At 8km to go as I turned and started downhill, I knew that my first sub - 10 hour Ironman would be in the bag if things held together reasonably well. I felt strong, the cramps had mostly gone and I started running with near perfect form. It was a bit like David Rudisha running the 800m  (Actually, I’ve seen the photo’s and I wasn’t close).

This was the first time all day that I thought about racing against people. My goal of a good performance was secure, and now my competitive side came out.  I could spot a few from my age group up the road. With the rolling start, I didn’t know when they started the swim, but I reckoned if I could get a minute or two on top of them, I would probably beat them.
 
I did manage to pass 3 or 4 of them, and ran down the finish line really strong and happy. My first sub 10 and a really pleasing performance with a flourish to finish. I was only slightly off my estimated and potential times, but with only 8 weeks of focused training – I will take that. Happy last race and the plan worked. 

So why the heading, “Why do plans not always work out?”

As a kid, I fondly remember Friday nights with fish and chips watching Gillette World Sport special and learning about fringe sports being played out in exotic faraway destinations. Growing up in the 80’s in Port Elizabeth, you could only dream of playing cricket in the West Indies, skiing in Canada, Rugby 7’s in Hong Kong or an Ironman in Hawaii. 

That dream has come true, and with it my plans of my last Ironman have been blown.  I unexpectedly finished 12th in this very strong age group and took the last guaranteed slot. So my retirement plans are on hold, and the new plan is to stay fit and healthy for the next 6 months. I have my entry for the Ironman World Championships on 8 October 2016, in Kona, Hawaii 

Giddy up…..!

My greatest motivation has always come from failure. Going back to September last year, Ironman Mallorca was that failure. It was humbling to put in a good performance but still be totally blown away by the European competition.

Lucie, Andrea and I discussed a winter training plan to overcome firstly my shortcomings on the bike and secondly a programme that would include mostly (what turned out to be a complete) indoor winter. The other main goal was to race at 65kg's, considering I'd raced Kona at about 72kg's this was going to be a challenge without losing power.

During October I invested in tests, equipment and software to ensure each and every session would be tracked and analysed. During November, December and the first half of January I trained. I worked hard but allowed myself to enjoy my training. Sessions were moved around to fit my day to day and work travelling. I'd say 90% of the sessions were completed but I never stressed if I missed one or had to cut one short. Time was spent training with Andrea, swimming with the club and running a few off road lanes. Basically I loved training. 

Focus started 12 weeks out ( 13 if you include the last taper week ). Nutrition, sleep and training sessions took precedence and I fitted the rest of life around this. 

Nutrition is the easy part, you have two choices when you walk into a supermarket. You just make the right one. I do have help in this regard but anyone can find this out. Simple little test, if it can be left in the cupboard instead of the fridge its probably the wrong choice.

Sleep or rest and recovery I believe is the major difference between a Pro and an Age Grouper. I read a blog by Jodie Swallow where she commented she was up to 11 hours of sleep a day. I'm lucky to get that over 2 days. The final few weeks I really did try though. Again its about choice.

I love my training sessions, they are not always easy but that feeling of achievement once they are done is what keeps me coming back.

I came over to South Africa early because I was concerned that 5 months on an indoor trainer had not helped my cycling at all. The first weekend I felt amazing on the bike and by Tuesday after a time trial session I knew I had nothing to worry about. In fact I was very confident I'd made positive strides forward.

My second week in South Africa was the longest of the 12 weeks, just over 28 hours. In total however I averaged only 16.5 hours per week over the 12 weeks. 50% of that was on the bike, 37% running and 13% in the pool.

After a slow T1 I started the best race of my life. Yes the result was great but I loved the race. The 2 laps, out and back, 3 chances to see where everyone was made for awesome racing. Slowly started picking up places and by about 110km in I think I was in control and feeling great. I'd missed one of the stronger riders in my age group but got confirmation he was behind me. At the final turnaround there were two of us with five or six about a minute back. I was feeling good and knew I had a little climb out of the town. I'd been eating constantly and keeping my hydration in check. I decided to put my head down and just do what I could for the last 45km's. Got back to T2 leading the age groupers and feeling strong. The last 5 or so km's I had a tailwind so was able to do a few stretches on the bike, slow the heart rate down and prepare for the run. 

​Someone followed me into T2 and I followed him out onto the run. My first 2km's are always about setting up the run. Ensuring I get the full protein shake down, getting the glasses comfortable and the cap snug. I desperately wanted to run a sub three marathon, that tick is going to have to wait. I started well and felt good. Again with 4 laps and 2 turnarounds I had a very good idea what was going on behind me. That and the invaluable support and information coming back from Lucie. She was really on top of everything. Each lap I managed to gain a few hundred meters on those chasing so just kept moving forward

I could try and describe the last 2km's but there are no words. The realisation that after 7 years of participating in Triathlon, the hours of training, the sacrifices made by myself and loved ones had lead to this moment was a little overwhelming to say the least.

There are a few bits a pieces I'd like to share about the last six months of training. 

Heard a comment the other day, "Sacrifice a race or two to invest in the equipment"

Indoor Trainer - With ANT and a power meter. I have a Tacx Vortex and the more advanced Taxc Genius at home. I mainly use the Vortex, so do some homework as better will not always suit the requirement. Watt Bikes at a gym are an option but I've been on 2 bikes next to each other with a 40 Watt difference in readings. Not sure if they are ever calibrated.
Power Meter - Again do your homework. I'm using the Powertap Pedals which calibrate in 5 seconds before every ride.
READ!!! - As much as you can. No point in having all the equipment and having no idea what the numbers mean and more importantly what the numbers mean for you!
Test - Get the tests done, in a lab. 
VO2 Max for both the bike and the run, they WILL be different. These will also give you your Heart Rate Zones. 
FTP for the bike. No point in having a session at 70-80% of FTP and having no idea what your FTP is. FTP should improve over time, make the adjustments every few weeks.
Sessions - Spend a few minutes thinking about the session before you start. Even though I have my watch, HRM, power pedals its still good to visualise how your session should feel. If you've done this you should never have to take a swim session on a piece of paper with you to the side of the pool.
Quality over Quantity - Every time, all the time! Unless you have the time like the pro's to recover. An Aerobic set is also a quality set.
Make the correct decisions around nutrition - This is actually the easiest part of this whole process, takes no additional effort but is probably the biggest failing.
Patience - I think the biggest learning is trusting a coach. Yes I've questioned quantity, quality and weekly sessions but in the end followed the programme to the letter. No extra sessions, no longer sessions and no excuses.

I’ve been asking myself what it is about this Ironman thing that keeps me wanting more…?

After Kona last year, I entered a bit of a no-man’s-land (so many people told me this would happen), I didn’t rest enough but I couldn’t stop training. I was nursing a hip injury and a knee that would hurt on and off right up to race day. The worst part is that I kept most of this from Lucie just in case she stopped updating my Training Peaks (really!?). In January I ended up at my physio, Julia Witt, somewhat over-trained, stressed about starting a new career and not quite sure what was next for me with regard to triathlon. At this point I wasn’t running as my hip was too sore. In our first session she asked me, “Why are you beating yourself with this big stick?” and I know this sounds weird but I began a journey with her where we got to understand how my body works, but more importantly how my mind works and what are the things that drive me both positively and negatively.
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To cut a long story short I am better at understanding the “why” to the “what” if that makes sense. The “what” is triathlon and the “why” is so many things. I think I have been able to let go of the fear of failure and accept this gift that I have been given relatively late in life and make the most of it while it lasts! So the “why” is because I love training, I love racing, I love winning (there I said it), I love what this sport has done for my body, I love the people that I have met and the friends that I have made and I love sharing this journey with everyone around me.
Having said all of that, deep I know, I arrived at this year’s race in a very good head space and with the right amount of training in the bag. My injuries were behaving and I was pretty confident that my body would keep it together. The moment of truth comes when you are standing on the beach and the pros have gone off…there is no turning back. There is so much excitement but also utter fear and dread, but once you’re running into the ocean it’s down to business.
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When it comes to the swim, there are dolphins, racing snakes, mermaids and even penguins…I am none of these. I prefer to think of myself as one of the turtles in Finding Nemo. Like yo Dude, let’s do this thing…whoo hoo…what 1:14:00? Can’t be right…I swear I swim faster than that!  But clearly I don’t, and in reality the race starts once I have exited that damn condom of a wetsuit!

The morning began with a final stop in at transition to do the last little things that needed to be done before the race. My bike and transition bags were set and ready. At this stage I was feeling fairly calm with a few butterflies in the stomach. Being around the Trifactri group also helped settle the nerves and kept me smiling. We slipped into our wet-suits, said our final goodbyes and headed down to line up in the starting pens. 

The swim went off smoothly; the rolling starts really do allow a pleasant experience in the water. The sea was fairly calm and I enjoy swimming up and down in the swells. After a very long drag along the shore with an endless amount of yellow bouys, the turn around bouy was in sight. The sea on the way back wasn't as pleasant as heading out, but still quite an enjoyable. Finally it was the last turn around and I was heading back to the beach. Running out the water I felt great and was satisfied with the time which I had completed the swim. ​

​"Here comes one of Lucie Zelenkova's athletes. James, You are an Ironman!" These we're the exact words spoken as I crossed that finish line. The rush of pride to be part of this incredible team filled me. And to have accomplished this race with the time I did in comparison to the time last year, it was phenomenal. I was unbelievable happy. This sport is my heart and soul. 

The big one, the main event, and the reason for so many early nights and even earlier mornings. Ironman! The race was finally here, race weekend was upon us and to be honest, I have never been more excited! This was my first attempt at the full Ironman and I actually couldn’t wait.

Sleepless nights in the days running up to Sunday 10 April were the order of the day, anxiety my starter, excitement the main course and just a hint of fear for dessert. This was it! I really wish there was an Ironman every week, even though my body may disagree.
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Race day had arrived and after multiple hugs and good wishes from those supporting from the sidelines I was making my way down to the beach. Usually I am a complete nervous wreck before a race, unable to speak, close to tears and shaking. This time was different. Something about this race was different, yes of course I was still nervous and shaky and mumbled instead of speaking, but there was a strange calm deep inside me (very deep) which allowed me to fully experience and enjoy everything that was going on around me. Today was going to be a great day.
Standing on the beach I found my fellow Trifactri friends and we all huddled together waiting for the race to start. More hugs, more good wishes, more excitement. All of a sudden an explosion that shook me and almost caused an immediate drop in race weight. It was the awesome boom of the cannon, sending the Pro men out into the water. It was close now. A second boom and the lady Pro’s were off. 5 minutes and it was time for us.

The water had truly lost its imposing fear and the bark was quickly becoming much, much worse than the bite. Running into transition I felt good, strong and excited. I was having the best time and couldn’t wait for the bike. Spectre was rearing to go and it was time to let him lose. I did however have to stop and laugh at myself while running through T1. According to my watch I had just swum my fastest ever open water swim with a pace of 1min40s per 100m, I was ecstatic. This excitement was marred only by the fact that I had decided to swim 4,350km!! An extra 500 odd meters. I chuckled as I ran towards Spectre: my training was definitely going in the right direction, even if I wasn’t!

The Bike
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Having lost my bike twice in two previous races in transition, I have become extremely diligent with walk-throughs and rehearsals when checking in the bike. I was rewarded for my diligence when I ran towards Spectre who, politely, had remained in the same place I left him that morning before the swim.  We ran through transition and over the mount line. Spectre was heavily laden with a plethora of Gu’s taped to the cross bar, what felt like a kilogram of PowerBar wafers and two full Roctane bottles (one on-board and one on the wing). I was about to become the only athlete in Ironman history to put ON weight in a race.
The bike leg was awesome, we rode out along Marine Drive and then inland to Seaview Drive, after which we would drop back down to the coast for the turnaround point. Having driven the bike course on the Friday, I knew what to expect and when. I knew when to finish a bottle and exactly where then next aid station would be. My rotation of bottles and re-fueling the on-board hydration system was near perfect. Eating every 30 minutes and taking small sips constantly. Everything was going great. Nutrition was on point. Climbing away from the coast onto to Seaview drive my legs felt strong and I wanted to TT the stretch to the turnaround. Cooler heads prevailed as the advice I had received from nearly everyone echoed in my head, “don’t cook the bike”.
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Lap 1 on the bike was done in an instant and I rode through and away from P.E in what felt like a second. Straight past special needs (which contained an emergency spare tube and two bombs). Thankfully lap 1 had been kind on me and Spectre. No dreaded punctures or mechanicals. Nutrition and energy levels on point. This was amazing.

Lap 2 was largely uneventful and we went through the motions out to turnaround and back. After turning at 135km and making our way back I knew this was my time to shine. The last stretch was time to dig deep and I knew this is where most people would start falling off, when the intensity levels begin to drop and the required effort begins to climb. This is where I push on. I was literally giddy as I turned knowing that it was time to open up. A ridiculous 300km ride done months before came to mind. I smiled. Popping back onto Seaview Drive and leaving the coast I geared down and churned out the revolutions. Spectre and I cut through the air with ease and before I knew it we were back down on Marine Drive and heading back towards P.E. I laughed to myself again as my watch clicked over in 30 minute increments. My nutrition plan of eating every 30 minutes meant another Gu and another, and another. My desire to finish the bike was largely driven by the dismay at the thought of slurping down another of these sweetly sick snot pockets. I thought to myself, “if my biggest issue on the bike was the avoidance of another Gu then things were going well”. Which they indeed were. After fighting a bit of wind back into town Spectre and I were running through T2. Huge success, huge smiles!

The Run

When would be the best time to run your first ever marathon? I agree, just after a long ocean swim and a 180km cycle. Well, as it would turn out it wasn’t even the marathon that would stop me in my tracks on the day. It was something else. My body.

After a successful T2 and with yet another Gu in hand I took to the run course and ran away from transition toward P.E town. Full of confidence after a great swim and an even better bike I made my way along Beach Drive and collected my first band to signify the start of my first loop. There were going to be four of these loops, four of these bands, a long time on my legs, a lot of coke and a lot of patience. I continually watched my pace on the first loop, I slowed down at aid tables to take on fluids and actually swallow the coke, instead of throwing in my face like I normally do. Coach Lucie Zelenkova had filled me with confidence the previous week when she told me that running at approximately 5min per a km was well within my range. And she wasn’t wrong! As I strolled through the first loop I kept an eye on my watch and at most times had to force myself to slow down. Anything under 5 minutes was not required, this was going to be a long run, settle down, get a good rhythm and stick to the 5 minute mark. If the previous two disciplines where anything to go by this marathon hoopla was going to be downright lovely. Spectators either side of the road with words of encouragement, a gentle little jaunt around P.E and lots of snacks, treats and coolies along the way. What a fine way to end off a Sunday afternoon.
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And then it happened, the one thing that makes me love triathlons as much as I do. The tables turned. I was about to be dumped on my ass in a few more steps. Triathlons don’t care who you are, or who you think you are. A bad swim could be rewarded with a great bike, only to have the rug pulled out from under you on the run. I love it. You never know. You do your best, but you just never know.  At kilometre 12 things started to get a bit shaky, 5 minute pace got a little dicey. Not impossible, just required a little more effort. Maybe some coke, maybe a second coke at the same aid table. That should do it. Ok, maybe a Gu, ok, maybe half of that wafer I stuffed into the back my tri-suit in transition. A little more coke at the next aid station, and I’ll be right as rain. Some rain now would be lovely. Gosh it’s hot. Has it been this hot all day? Why are there no trees on this run? Who puts a run on a road with no trees, I mean really!? Gosh P.E plant some damn trees! More coke. Lots more coke….

Paul Kaye on the mic and no glow sticks anywhere near me I heard the famous words:

 “You are an Ironman”!

A high-5 to my sister on the red carpet and over the line. I had done it! I had finally achieved that thing that I set out to do all those months ago! It felt amazing! I loved every second of it! I was greeted by friends and family in the finishers area. More hugs. More good wishes. I wouldn’t trade it for the world!
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As the dust settles on the amazing time I had, I’m forced to reflect and obsess about each minute of the race. Could I have gone faster on the bike? Was I really hurting that much on the run? Why the hell did I swim so skew? These questions will answer themselves over time, and as I take on more races and more events these questions will differ. All I can say with absolute certainty at this point is that this is my sport. I love it, I can’t get enough.
A huge thank you to my family for their unwavering support and understanding. I love you guys! To Lucie for her guidance, mentorship and coaching, not to mention a phone call or private chat when I felt really down and needed some extra help. And of course to all the people at Trifactri who make training for this sport so amazing and so much fun. All of you have helped me every single step of the way, but to mention a few: James Curtin, Desi Dickinson and Robyn Louw (the East crew), Alex Elliot, Desmond Reilly, Darian Wait, Gavin Payne (the big bad bikers) and Rob Heath (the thinker), I spent the most time with you guys in preparations and it was my absolute privilege! Most importantly I must thank Eugene Gerber! You pushed me in training, shared you knowledge of races and helped me through every session. From Emmarentia swims, to speed sets around track on Wednesdays and of course, towing me around that damn dam each week! Thank you buddy, I couldn’t have done it without you!