My adventure so far

Ironman, my adventure so far

I blame this adventure on my ulcerated colon, fair and square. When I came back from safari in easter 2013 with GI issues the doctors logically assumed it was a tropical bug. So they tested and tested and tested, weeks passed with nothing being found other than "odd blood results". Every day that passed I lost fitness, weight (muscle) and motivation. Riding a bike felt awful, fatigue setting in so quickly as the body just rejected food and nutrients. Finally an ulcerated colon was diagnosed - can't ever be fixed, but can always be managed. August 2013, I was on the road back to fitness, but after not riding or even really properly exercising for 4 months it was always going to be a long road back.

First trip was the Raid Alpine with the ever fabulous Marmot Tours - a 5 day traverse of the Alps from Geneva to the Med in September '13 - one of the classic bike tours. I was nowhere near fit and almost pulled out before the start but off we went and within 10 minutes I was at the back of the group. And thats where I stayed all week, enjoying the scenery, enjoying the steroids (prescribed!) but not enjoying the suffering. I didn't hate being last on the road, but I hated not being fit.

And then the British autumn arrives and makes it even harder to get back to fitness. A solution is needed... Bike camps I had always understood were the preserve of the elite, but several people told me otherwise. A couple of friends recommended the camp run by Andy Cook in Lanzarote in January. Turning up in Jan '14 I really had no clue what Lanza or Club La Santa means to triathletes. I thought I was going on a bike camp, but I was pretty much the only cyclist there, everyone else was there training for this thing called Ironman of which I had no understanding whatsover of. 

Its a triathlon I quickly learned. Oh well, count me out then, I'm a cyclist and I can't either run or swim. It's the pinnacle of triathlon they told me - a 3.8km sea swim, 180km bike ride and then a mere marathon run to finish. Yeah, but I just told you, I can't run or swim...

When I say "can't" I really meant it - for swimming at least - I had an accident in the school pool aged 14(?) and never swam since - other than splashing about with the kids. Wouldn't go under water, wouldn't go out my depth, couldn't do any stroke at all. Swim 3.8km, in the sea, with waves and like 3,000 other people around me? Ha ha.

Running, well I wasn't much better. In years gone by when I was a fair weather cyclist I cycled in the summer then in the winter tried to train up to do a marathon, all attempts were painful and futile. I could run, but I was truly rubbish at it.

But you know what, spending two weeks with a bunch of friendly happy bubbly triathletes (and a few really tedious bike bores...) rubbed off on me. So I got back home at booked some swimming lessons. "Give me 4 lengths of front crawl" Lorraine said. Er, I can sorta do breast stroke was my reply - and thats where we started.

Several weeks later I still couldn't do 4 lengths, not without drowning anyway but in mid March in Mallorca (on another Andy Cook camp) it clicked, I went from 100m to 200m to 400m to 1,000m that week, and the next week at home went from 1,000m to 1'900m (half IM) and then quickly up to 3,800m (full distance).

So I could sorta swim. Sorta, well, not really. I was truly the worlds worst swimmer. Back to La Santa in June at a Phil Price tri camp, Andrew the swim coach showed immense patience and tolerance of my swim "technique", he's a great coach but it was all too much too soon, information overload. He showed me however that I had a long way to go, a lot left to learn about how to swim properly (which frankly I still can't, I'm still quite rubbish). 

That was however the week that my adventure really began, I hugely enjoyed myself that week and in both the bike and run sessions I was doing far far better than I thought I would. The sun was out, the sky was blue, I was no longer at the back of the field like the week in the Alps, hell I was even vaguely near the front of the field (apart from swimming...). At the farewell dinner at the end of the week i had a glass or two of wine and someone then stuck a bit of paper under my nose "i hereby commit to signing up to the 2015 Lanzarote Ironman". Lanzarote IM is no ordinary Ironman, its one of the toughest out these, Lanza is a hot baron hilly windy lump of volcanic ash, there are no trees, no shade, always fighting the wind, always fighting the hills - in short - my kinda bike course!

I signed that bit of paper. And you know what, I got home and the very first thing I did was to log on and sign up. And so, it began, all thanks to an ulcertated colon.