Back in the game!

So, Ironman Switzerland it is then.  After almost a 12 month lay-off, Ironman is back in focus.  Switzerland.  My very first.  2009.  Where the addiction and fascination with the sport really took off.  “No more” I cried during the last lap of the run.  “Never again” and “stupid sport” were also heard during the long run in to the finish.  “What’s the point of this sport?” was repeated in darker moments.  

This will be Ironman number 12.

Entering Switzerland has me fired up again.  Training.  Focused training, oh how I’ve missed you.  Reading.  Listening.  Watching.  Can’t get enough Ironman and triathlon talk at the moment.

Plotting, oh the plotting.  Making a schedule where I can fit training in, where it fits in with the family, where I can still spend time with Lynn, where I do not neglect everything else.  That’s the challenge, right there.  It’s easy to become obsessed and let it take over everything.  The hard part is to recognise this, and adjust accordingly.  The family are on board, positively encouraging.  Not turning their encouragement sour by over-doing it is the key.  

Filtering.  Deciding on the approach to training, particularly during the winter.  Train slow in the attempt to build solid endurance, an aerobic engine?  Include more intense sessions with a focus on improving power and pace?  Researching different scholars of the sport.  Different viewpoints, different approaches.  That’s the fun, right?  Coming up with an approach, a method, that works for me, that fits with my lifestyle.

Goals.  Where to begin?  How high do you aim?  How big should the goal be?  What will fire me up?  What will get me out of bed in the early mornings or keep me training when all others have gone to sleep?  On the other hand, do I really want a big performance goal?  Is part of the joy just the fact I can do this sport, whilst also living a normal life – with a wife, three children, a business.  Do I need to reach for a sub-10 hour goal?  Do I aim at getting closer to the top age groupers?  Do I use 2017 as a progression year, to have a crack at the big one in 2018?  Or am I happy participating and seeing what I can do with what I’ve got?  That’s a tough one to wrestle with.  When the reality kicks in, and there are other priorities to deal with, will these fit with my race goals.  How do I adjust?

The answer, in part, is smaller goals perhaps.  Not necessarily race related, more progression and training related.  A goal of four runs per week.  That’s a small, achievable goal isn’t it?  Done for the next 40 weeks though, and that frequency and consistency transforms me into a much better, more robust Ironman runner than I’ve previously thought I was capable of.  Power on the bike is pretty low in comparison to good age-groupers.  Increasing power on the bike by 5 watts per month.  Sounds straightforward, achievable.   Easy to digest.  That’s 50 watts of extra power available on race day.  Build speed on the swim.  Fast 50m and 100m efforts.  A 1.05 all-out effort translates into comfortable 1.20 cruising pace.  A sub 60 second swim in a gala is still in focus.  That’s 50m training efforts at 30 seconds.  Can these goals be done?  Can they be achieved at the same time?  Will achieving bike power goals impact on the swim intensity?  Don’t know.  Set them, aim for them, recalibrate them as we go along.

Lots of thinking to do.  Lots of information to digest.  Lots of dreams to have.  Lots of training to do.  Ironman Switzerland 2017.  Exciting times ahead. 

Ironman Barcelona 2015

After a good two porridge, two pastry, two coffee breakfast, I made my way to transition to sort my bike out, get my wetsuit on and get ready for the race. 

Race kit

Race weight (10st 2lbs)

I decided to get in the water and do a warm up in the choppy water. Swimming out to sea felt like swimming uphill, with a wall of water facing you. Turning around and swimming towards shore was a surfing-like experience, although being dumped onto the sand by a big wave wasn't too much fun. I was in the water for a full 15 minute warm up. I made my way from the water into the start pens, trying to squeeze through the masses and get to the front. After climbing over a few fences, and standing on a few toes, I made it to the 55-59 minute estimated swim time pen. The quickest pen available. Once there, I glanced over my shoulder and, amazingly, spotted Lynn and the girls. They had made it to the swim start. That's the first time they'll have seen one of my swim starts. Seeing them was completely unexpected, and with my emotions running high anyway, I got a little misty-eyed.

Team Riley!

The male pros went off first, then the female pros went five minutes later. Ten minutes after that, it was our turn. We were shepherded into the water, with our individual times only starting when we crossed the timing mats on the beach. This new 'rolling start' method was actually a bit rougher than usual, with people trying to push past to get into the water, and then a few stray arms and legs hitting out in the water. Despite the choppy conditions, and the over-aggressive swimmers next to me, I got straight into a relaxed stroke, with very little leg kick, and low perceived effort. I passed quite a few people early on - despite people self-seeding themselves at the front - before the first turn buoy. At the buoy, I stayed on the inside to make the right hand turn, taking a few hits. Ouch. Once I'd made the turn, the rolling waves were pushing me further forward, faster, overtaking people. I stayed behind a couple of swimmers, conserving energy, then noticed a small group further ahead. A few hard strokes later, and I quickly caught that small group. Ahead of them, there were two more guys, making decent progress and pulling away. I decided to catch them, taking the faster draft.

After reaching the far end, we turned left at the buoys and made our way back into the choppy water. I still kept the swim relaxed, using a high arm recovery to compensate for the waves. I swam easy with them the whole way around.  Swim felt easy. Fun even.

It turns out I was 5th in my age group for the swim, beaten by 30 people overall, including the pros. 53 fun-filled minutes.

Transition was smooth. Wetsuit came off without problems. Running towards my bike, enjoying the cheering crowds, waving my helmet over my head like a scarf at a football match, as I ran towards my bike. I was having a good time! Onto my bike and away.

After 1k, my chain came off just after the dead turn on the technical section. Bizarre. I stopped, sorted that out relatively easy and quickly, and back on the bike again. Over the speed bumps, through the narrow roads, up and over the hill. Now settle into the bike, find a rhythm and get to work.

I probably pushed a bit harder than I had planned during this first stage. It all felt so easy. I was constantly swallowed up by packs of riders. Big groups. Rather than overtake and and zoom past, many of them forced me to change pace and rhythm. Many of the riders seemed to overtake, cut me up, then slow down, open a gel, have a drink, ease off the pedals. To ensure I didn't get a drafting penalty, I'd then have to back off and sit up, rather than pedal and stay low on my aerobars. It was so frustrating.

I was zooming along. 35-38kph. Eating well. Drinking plenty of water. Yet, still being passed by lots of athletes. 

After a couple of hours, my stomach didn't feel right (actually at a couple of stages on the bike). Lots of burping. I dropped the frequency of eating my gels from 30 minutes to every 45 minutes. I also had a salt tablet. 

I caught up with Will again - he had passed me after about 45k - shortly after he had been in the penalty tent for drafting. He was not happy. I followed him for a little while, from a 'safe distance', only to be swallowed up by another giant pack. Almost as soon as the riders behind had caught me, and swallowed me up, I spotted a blue card raised in the air and the blue jacketed Marshall on the back of a moped pointing at me. I had just been given a drafting penalty. Unbelievable. I shamefully stopped at the next penalty tent for five minutes, watching my average speed drop with each passing minute. Me and an Irish guy in the tent watching groups of riders going past. I passed the next two penalty tents - frustratingly, not a single rider in them. 

Shortly after my five minute penalty, Martin overtook me, looking powerful. I put in a bit of effort and went past him again. Then he went past me, then I went past him. 

Despite my penalty, I returned back to transition with a 5.13 bike split (34.5kph average). I wasn't feeling fresh, but I was in a good place. 

Into transition, quick trip to the loo and then out on the run. Reminding myself to go slow, go slow, go slow. With this run, I was entering into the unknown. I had only been able to run in the last few weeks, following a cortisone injection to reduce knee swelling, and even then I had been unable to run more than one hour without knee pain. My last long run - 2 hours or more - was more than one year ago! This was going to test everything.

First lap, going well, but perhaps given my recent running history was a little too quick. 52 minutes for the 10.1k. Onto the second lap and my stomach started cramping. I stopped taking gels and switched to cups of Coke at the aid stations. I then had to urgently stop at a portaloo and wrestle myself out of my one piece race kit. Back out, stomach a little better, running well again. Blisters on my right foot were starting to cause problems. At the top end of the course, in Pineda, I stopped at the Red Cross tent to see if they could strap up the blisters. Five small plasters - to cover one big blood blister on my big toe, and another sore, burst blister on the ball of my foot - was all I managed to get off them. I started running again, albeit with a bit of pain in my scantily plastered, blistered right foot. Second lap - including a trip to the portaloo and the Red Cross tent - 1.03.

I could feel my energy dropping, probably due to lack of gels and fear of causing stomach problems. Sips of Coke at each aid station had not been an adequate replacement for my powerful Torq gels. I reached the start of the third lap and my knee started to ache now. It was really quite stiff and sore. So I started walking. Walking. Walking. Reflecting on the race, I can see I really lost focus at this point and just started to feel sorry for myself. I had thoughts of just walking for the rest of the run. Nobody would blame me. My poor knee. Everybody would understand. My lack of run training. That's a decent excuse. It's my turn to walk this year. That's ok, everybody has to have a turn. I walked for 7k. 7k?! During the walk, I took my HR monitor off, a clear signal I had given up on this race. I had given up on Ironman. I never wanted to be in this position in a race again. I quit Ironman racing there and then.

I had a caffeine gel during my walk, just to try on my now relaxed stomach. I got to the top end of the course and my mindset changed a bit. Maybe it was the gel. Maybe it was all that thinking time. Maybe it was seeing all of those athletes pass me. I thought I had to try something different. I had to try and run through the pain / discomfort. I'd try to run a bit, walk a bit. I ran for 100 steps, then walked for 50. Ran 100, walked for 50. Ran 100, walked for 50. This was better. Despite the improvement, the third lap was covered in a pretty depressing 1.22.

I got back near transition, about 12k from home, and took some ibuprofen from Lynn. Almost instantly, I was transformed. Perhaps a mental boost, perhaps genuine pain relief. Whatever. I was off, running, running fast. I had a point to prove, to myself if nobody else. I am a better athlete than I was showing out there. I'm a 9.50 guy. I'm a 3.37 Ironman marathon guy. I started zooming past athletes. For the first time in the race I started seeing kilometre splits with a 4 in front of them. I was catching and overtaking athletes and club mates who had left me standing not long ago. Obviously the walking had helped me recover, but this last lap left me with a feeling of "if only". If only I'd taken the ibuprofen earlier in the race. If only I hadn't lost focus and just walked (slowly) for 7 whole kilometres. If only I hadn't wasted time at the Red Cross tent getting useless plasters put on my feet. If only I had continued taking gels and not let my energy stores run out. If only I'd given myself some more positive self-talk during the run. If only I'd listened to random spectators who insisted on telling me I could do it. If only.

In that last lap, according to the official tracker, I ran 10.2k in 53 minutes. I made up 6 minutes on Will, 13 minutes on Martin, 9 minutes on Paul, 16 minutes on Gregg.

Although I ran hard during that last lap, I crossed the finish line with more in the tank. I didn't leave it all out there. I was so disappointed. I didn't even check my finish time. It was actually 10.33. I 'ran' a 4.21 marathon.

For days afterwards, I was disappointed with this race. I had excuses going into the race, and I had used them. I had fallen into the trap. Training going into the race wasn't ideal, but then whose is? I wasn't 100% fit on the start line, but then who is? I had some setbacks during the race, but who doesn't? 

Look at the positives. I had a great swim. The bike was good - and without the penalty would have been a best ever bike split. I came off the bike with a good shot at a PB or at least another sub-10. Lap one of the run was good. Lap four was great - my quickest ever final 10k of an Ironman. Lap two was ok. I had enjoyed the training to get me to the start line. I enjoyed our weekend away. 

I'm determined not to let one run lap, 10k, spoil my overall perception of the race and Ironman racing. 

What's the quote? Don't wish it was easier, wish you were better!

Challenge Salou - You Were Awesome!

Up at 4.30am for a breakfast of super sweet rice pudding and pain au chocolat - all consumed in the bathroom whilst Lynn and the girls slept. Race kit (Fusion Speedsuit) - check, suncream applied - check, warm clothes on - check, Rucksack with swim kit, bike bottles and pump - check. That was me all set to meet Daniel at 5.30am in the hotel lobby and make the quiet 10 minute walk to race HQ.

However, 5.30am in Salou is not as quiet as you might think. Our route to transition took us past four or five bars and restaurants - all of which were packed with people, some spilling out onto the pavements, and bumping music. Lively. I'm not sure who was the most confused, us watching this spectacle or the revellers seeing two men in lycra walking through the Salou equivalent of Mathew Street!

Transition was quiet when we arrived, first light just emerging. The see was calm, glass-like. Perfect. Transition was a minimum fuss affair. Pumped tyres - 100 psi - then attached one water bottle and four gels onto the bike. No fuss. Caught up with some of the MerseyTri guys and gals, all looking calm and confident. 

I was probably a bit too laid back at the start, as despite my early arrival at transition, I had to run from the bag drop-off to the beach to be in time for a 50m warm up in the water before lining up on the beach with the other athletes in my wave start. Not great Bryan, sharpen up! Despite my lateness, I managed to squeeze my way to the front and was in a great position to run into the water when the cannon boomed. 

3-2-1 boom. Go. 

I ran over the soft sand into the shallow waters, with more than 100 other black-suited swimmers. And we ran. And ran. The water stayed shallow for 20-30 metres before dropping to depths where swimming was actually possible. I dolphin-dived four or five times, suddenly forgetting where I was, forgetting the drama and excitement of the race and just enjoying the sensation of diving into the water and gliding. 

Inevitably, the time to stop messing about and start swimming came. I settled into a rhythm pretty quickly, lots of space around me, no clashes with other swimmers. Once settled, I looked around, observing how the race was unfolding. The faster swimmers were 10 metres to my right, about 10 metres ahead. I set my internal rudder 10 degrees east and made my way over to join the party. I caught up with them, with the notion of sticking with them and enjoying a relaxed, easy, drafting swim. However within the space of a pool length I had passed all but one of them. So much for that plan! The guy in front was swimming a bit quicker than I wanted to so I let him go, using him and the canoe that accompanied him as my sighting guide, ensuring I swam in the right direction. After passing the second of five buoys that marked out the 1.9k swim course, I rolled over onto my back to see what was happening around me. Not a lot as it turned out. I was alone. A distance ahead of the other swimmers. 

Goggles were fogging a bit, making sighting a bit more difficult. However, the turn buoys were big and easy to spot, with giant balloons attached to them, the course very easy to navigate. Arms and shoulders were also starting to ache a little, partially down to swimming in a wetsuit for the first time in 8 months, partially the pace of the swim but also due to the limited time spent in the pool this year. I felt myself slowing a little as we neared transition. That's fine. Don't fight it. Conserve energy for the rest of the race.

Exiting the swim in these shallow waters meant standing up a long way from the beach and making the long walk through the salty water to the sand and the awaiting crowds of spectators. During the swim I had passed - and was still passing - a lot of the wave in front (the female wave) who had set off 10 minutes before me.

I ran along the soft sand with wet feet, stripping as much of my wetsuit off as I could before reaching my transition bag and the change tent. My wetsuit - Blueseventy Helix - is great for swimming in but really difficult (for me anyway) to take off. I eventually wrestled it off my calves and ankles and went through my transition routine. Running to my bike I felt fantastic. Energy aplenty.

Once past the mount line and onto my bike, I pedalled easy for a few minutes, allowing my body time to adjust to the new position. I checked my Garmin. Power numbers appearing. Heart rate monitor recognised and working. Satellites acquired and speed and distance numbers increasing. All good. All expected data present and correct.

Looking down I noticed my heart rate was high - about 155. I expected this so continued cruising through the twists, turns and roundabouts taking us out of town and onto the main cycle route. Once onto the wider, flat, black tarmac main road I settled into my aerobars, my race position. Speed started to rise. I then checked my power numbers. Too high. The internal dialogue then started. 

"Your power numbers are too high, slow down" cried one voice. 

"Oh stop. I'm feeling great, and I reckon I can sustain this" came the rebuttal from the idiot voice.

"Don't be ridiculous! You've never trained at this level, you have a long race ahead and you want to run strong".

"Pah!"

Fortunately, sensible voice was the winner, and I reluctantly dropped the intensity a bit. 

The first of the u-turns signed on the route came without much warning. I saw a man in a yellow vest waving his arms about 50m in front of a roundabout. I thought he was telling me to go around the roundabout and make my way back. Once I'd passed him, I quickly realised I was supposed to turn around him! Oops. I breaked hard and made a slow turn around and pedalled, back on the correct course. Much to my embarrassed self's relief, I wasn't the only one to make this error. The five guys behind me also shot past. Shortly after the turn, I spotted Daniel coming the other way. "Hey Daniel!" I shouted, alas without reply. I looked at my Garmin and I reckoned I was about 4 minutes ahead. I definitely wasn't expecting him yet so he must have had a super swim. 

The route soon took us off the main road again, going through some more roundabouts, another u-turn, and a back road that looked very out of place in this race! After about 20k we emerged onto the main road, a large dual carriageway that was completely closed to traffic. Speed started to pick up. Heart rate was dropping. I was feeling good. A few people passed me, but not many. I was passing others in front. A mix of female athletes who started 10 minutes in front of me and the over eager athletes who started the bike at a pace they would struggle to maintain. I was eating and drinking regularly. Torq gel every 40 minutes - which in hindsight might not have been enough? - and sips of water.

This was not a hilly bike course, whichever way you look at it. However there were a couple of 'hills' near the turnaround, between 45 and 55k. Nothing to change gear out of the big ring for, but enough to drop speeds to 20-22kph.

After picking up two bottles of water at the aid station, I made my return journey, back to transition. I noted my time at the turnaround and then looked across the road, trying to spot other athletes such as Daniel, Alastair, Jeff, Jon, Natalie, Hannah and trying to gauge the different gaps between us all. I spotted Daniel with ease, a little too close for my liking! Somehow I missed the 6 feet five inch frame of Alastair. Maybe I blinked and he just powered past? Probably. I shouted encouragement to the other guys - I love that stuff - and most of them replied, others silent just in their own focussed zone!

I felt like I powered back to transition, seeing my average speed creep higher the longer the race went on. Out of the saddle on the 'hills', just to change position and stretch my neck and back, I felt powerful. Still being careful not to overdo things, despite my eagerness to charge. I enjoyed the last 40k the most.

In no time I was making some more twists and turns and navigating roundabouts. Transition was fast approaching. The enthusiastic crowds were thickening now, and I milked the support, waving, smiling and giving thumbs up. I was still feeling great.

Off the bike, running towards transition the first person I see cheering is Kate. Fantastic!  Bike racked, I ran and grabbed my run bag, changed into my running shoes and then spotted Lynn and the girls immediately. Awesome!

I started out of transition and my legs felt ok. Not great, not light, but turning over well. "Keep it going and they'll soon feel good" I told myself optimistically. Through the first 2k in the sticky heat, running along at 4.45min/k pace and then ... ouch! Right hamstring cramp! Out of nowhere it struck and didn't let up. "Come on! Give me a break!" The voice in my head screamed. I stretched and massaged it a little and it eased up. I continued on, and after 400m or so my hamstring started to feel normal again. My pace picked up a bit, moving nearer to my pre-race goal of 4.30 min/k. For the next 5k I was running at this sort of pace, keeping the gap between myself and Daniel 'interesting'. He was closing, but not fast. It could be an interesting race. 

After about 8k I felt my left knee go weak and a sharp pain struck every time I hit the ground with that leg! That's not good. About 10 days before the race this knee had swollen after one of my run sessions, and it hadn't been right since. Running along the prom next to the sand, in a race with some fantastic athletes, I no longer had any power in my left leg. Argh!! The pain eased as I slowed a little to 4.45min/k. I cracked on with it, trying to keep my cadence high and my pace consistent.

10k completed now, not feeling great, but getting it done. I went through the aid station, taking a giant stride to avoid a puddle and BAAAAMMM. Cramp. Right hamstring. Solid. I grabbed onto the barrier next to me with one hand, the other clutching the back of my leg, closed my eyes and yelled, a mix of agony and frustration. The poor elderly couple sitting down on the other side of the barrier didn't know what to make of me, just staring straight at me in bewilderment! This cramp wasn't going away. I rubbed, massaged, stretched. And then the other leg. BAAAAMMM. Double leg cramp. I just stood there and laughed at the absurdity of it all. Then Daniel charged through transition and straight past. He was looking strong. Soon after, Alastair went past, again looking good. Cramp eased, I walked slowly, gently easing myself into a trot, then a jog before finally running again. My mood had gone from cheering 'our athletes' on to just trying to get through the race. I tried to put a brave face on things when I went past Lynn and the girls, but I think they saw through it.

"Two more laps and I'm done. Come on, just two more laps". Sensible voice keeping me on track. The third lap was the worst though, with cramp striking again, although much more easily treated this time. Pace was 5 minute kilometres when running, although I was definitely taking more time walking through the aid stations. The idiot voice was strong, and my mood wasn't good, only lifting briefly when I saw Lynn and the girls. They always pick me up. Never fail. 

I had a gel, and coupled with my awesome support, I started to feel a bit more positive about things. One lap to go. Picked up the pace a little and moved ahead of athletes around me. This was better. Reached the turnaround point at the far end of the course. 2k to go. Come on. Calf muscles started to pulse. "Don't you dare" I said to myself, "don't even think about it". I shortened my stride even further and gritted my teeth.

Picking up my last of four wristbands, signifying four completed laps, I entered the finish area and I spotted Lynn and the girls again. I stopped and gave them all a kiss! I glanced at the clock as I crossed the line - 4.51. A PB. First time under five hours. How did that happen? With that horrible last half of the run too. Awesome! Just shows what you can do if you just keep moving forward. No feeling sorry for myself and giving up. Just keep moving.

Well done to everybody out there. It was a hot race. Particularly well done to Daniel for a perfectly executed race, finishing in 4.44. Alastair did amazing too, finishing in 4.48 and posting a 2.29 bike split (36kph) - on a road bike! Jeff had a great race (5.10), with Natalie just behind in 5.55. The Moorhouses were fantastic, posting PB's and breaking 6 hours (Jon) and 7 hours (Hannah) for the first time. Biggest praise goes to Lynn (and Katy, Kim & Tammy) for supporting me and giving me the loudest cheers any athlete could wish for! 

A great time was had by all. This race has a new set of fans. Challenge Salou - you were awesome! 

Princes Parkrun 5K

I completed my first ever parkrun on Saturday (16^th February).  These parkruns are free, timed 5k runs that take place every Saturday across lots of locations across the country.  One of these events take place in Princes Park every week (http://www.parkrun.org.uk/princes/).  Given its 5 or 6 miles from our house, and it’s been running for almost two years I really should have raced it before now. 

Daniel came down from Scotland for the weekend and was staying in our house.  I knew his brother Paul ran in these events and thought it might be a good idea to combine a run with a catch-up with his brother.  I didn’t anticipate all of the champagne we drank on Friday or waking up feeling a little rough when I initially suggested it though!

In my brief warm up prior to the race I broke into a jog and my heart rate rocketed.  I then did a couple of sprints and my lungs were aching.  The champagne was running through my veins!  This could be an interesting run.  A 5k gives you nowhere to hide.  It is fast from the start and never lets up.

Prior to the start, I noticed that a few guys from the club were running today – which is great because it’s nice to see them, but on the other hand it puts some added pressure because you want to beat them!  It also lets you know exactly where your fitness is in relation to everybody else.  Not always a good thing!

From the 160 or so athletes taking part, I positioned myself on the 3^rd row, behind one of our clubmates Lee Steele.  Almost two years ago, I did a couple of 3k time trials with the club on our Tuesday night run sessions and we used to run more or less the same times (10.57).  Since then, Lee has specialised on sprint distance triathlons whilst I’ve had a year of no speedwork at all due to injuries.  I didn’t expect to beat Lee today, but I was interested to see what the difference in performance would be (quite a lot as it turned out!).

The gun went and we were off.  I started off pretty quick, in the top 10 or 12.  I could feel my heart rate rise and rise, reaching 186bpm within 1 minute of starting!  I continued at my pace, hoping that my heart rate would come down once it got used to running at this pace!  Fortunately it did, it dropped to mid-170’s, although not for very long!  Within a minute, it peaked at 188 – an unsustainable heart rate.  I dropped my pace a little and my heart rate dropped and remained at between 180 and 182 for the rest of the race.

The first kilometre was covered in 3.41, the second in 3.42.  This was quick for me.  The next kilometre slowed to 4.00, with the fourth dropping to 4.05.  I was tired!  With 1k to go, I picked up my effort and managed to run the last kilometre in 3.56. 

The Garmin stats:

Split	Time	Best Pace	Avg HR	Max HR
Summary	19:25.0	2:46	178	188
1	3:41.0	2:46	170	188
2	3:42.4	3:06	177	183
3	4:00.4	3:18	181	182
4	4:05.0	2:52	179	181
5	3:56.2	3:24	182	183

I finished 18^th out of the 163 people who finished the race.  In my first race in the veteran category, I was 2^nd veteran, beaten by just 15 seconds!  I was also 5^th MerseyTri finisher.

As for Lee Steele, well he was a lot better than me, finishing in 18.36 and 6 places ahead!

This was my first running race in a long, long time and it was good to blow off a few cobwebs.  After the race I concluded a couple of things.  Firstly, I’m not a 5k racer (not currently anyway!) and secondly, 5ks are really tough!