Ibiza 2003 - Sun, Sea, Saddles and Sweat

LIFE ISN’T ABOUT
FINDING YOURSELF
LIFE IS ABOUT CREATING YOURSELF
- Dave Scott

Swim start with Old Town in the distance. Try not to hit any Ł2 million yachts!

Even the great McHenry was slightly concerned you could see from the furrows etched in his brow that he was genuinely worried. It was, after all, a long way and several triathletes stood between him and his goal, but in typical fashion the great man would not admit defeat. Rousing himself for one last effort he made his move; he jinked around the Spaniard, powered past the Italian and secured his place as first in line for the buffet desert table.

However this is not just a tale of Dessie’s carb-loading on lemon cheesecake and custard crepes, nor is it just the bare story of Neil Darby’s perfectly crafted aerodynamic mini-pump. Rather it is a trip into Long Course Triathlon were biking ability really counts and there is no room for drafters.

If we wind the clock back to November 2002, I had just completed my second season in Triathlon and had raced at most of the venues that counted in Ireland. I had "enjoyed" the lumpy roads of the 45K bike leg in Kilkee for the "Hell of the West"; relished the titanic run course in Kinsale for "The King of the Hill" and swum with the rats and goodness-knows-what-else in the Liffey for the Irish Championships. I was happy with the way things were going but felt the need to push the envelope a little all reasonable advice centred on having a good couple of seasons at sprint and olympic distance racing and then think about the move to Half-Ironman but since when had I ever been accused of being reasonable?

In my weekly trawl for information I had come across the website for the World Long Course Triathlon Championships in Ibiza and it seemed to fit the bill:

Large, international event
Interesting location with accessible links
Not an Ironman

I realise that the last note might seem a bit odd, but I had already resolved to leave that particular challenge to another time and even with a 4K swim the Long Course distances were a tad more manageable on the 12 hours a week that I would be able to appropriate to training.

I quickly managed to convince Dessie McHenry (Multiple Ironman, including Hawaii twice, and all round aerobic king) that this would be a good trip and contacted Neil Darby (ex-Olympic and World Championship rower and a temporary resident of Melbourne, Australia), who took the brave (foolhardy?) decision to race in the elite category against the best the world could offer.

A thousand rubber-clad revellers prepare to enter the waters at Ibiza
Training went pretty well through the depths of winter and thanks to Johnny Davis and others who accompanied me on many long bikes through Co. Down, enduring and sharing the misery of the snow and rain, as well as pushing me along on the longer run sessions. By the time May rolled around I had done as much as I reasonably could and packed up ready for the trip, bike safely stowed in it’s box and not an e-tab anywhere to be seen!

The flight out certainly showed the dichotomy that was Ibiza on that particular weekend, as everybody was either a fearfully skinny triathlete or a boozed up member of a stag party (and the flight was at 6am!). However Easyjet did their job and we were soon transferred to Hotel Argos for our spacious three-berth room with two (count-‘em) balconies, one of which was quickly re-designated as the bike workshop for the two days of pre-race tinkering.

The lead-up to the race was an exercise in staying out of the sun (For Neil and I, but not for "Mr soak me in corn oil and turn every 15 minutes McHenry"), picking up last minute bike spares (What is Spanish for CO2 cartridge anyway?) and trying to avoid the lunatic last minute training that was taking place all over the place. Under the strict tutelage of Dessie, we avoided the 3 hour bike rides in the mid-day sun that the Italian team were so keen on and limited it to a 15 minute bike, 20 minute run and short swim the day before the race (Oh and the continual search for the track pump).

Finally the day of the race arrived and after the 5.05am shuffle to breakfast, we walked to the transition areas for last minute tweaks to equipment, adding more bottles of fluid to the bike. It was also a final chance to admire the sleek elite bikes, with rear disc wheels, ridiculously aero positions and featherweight frames. However the prize for "Top Bike in Transition" was a tie between the eccentric American with the 450c wheels on what looked like a folding Brompton and the German guy with the aero disc and full Ayatollah Khomeni beard.

Out for the 7.30am start as the sun was rising on the horizon and the nervous energy was coursing through all our veins. Saddest sight was, with 30 seconds to go, the Canadian athlete beside me deciding to re-adjust his goggles and breaking the strap! 4k in the Med with no goggles - nice! The hooter went and we were off, with a 6 foot dive into the harbour and the frantic thrashing for positions. I managed to work myself into a pretty comfortable position near the middle (well nearer the back than that) and settled onto the toes of my mule for the day, who was wearing an easily identifiable Ironman wetsuit. Even when he occasionally mis-sighted on a buoy or weaved off course, I let him go only to find myself on his shoulder 5 minutes later the swim had been my big concern prior to the race but I really enjoyed the experience and was soon up the floating ramp and through the portable shower in 1.10 and change.

Fish-like people exit the water in < 1hr (inc. N.Darby in 59.57!)
I then dawdled my way through transition, as I was determined to get comfy on the bike and my trusty 8-panel Cannondale shorts replaced the Speedos - my heart (and bottom!) goes out to those who can last three and a half hours in the saddle in their micro-padded shorts but I favoured comfort over speed.

What can you say about the bike course except FANTASTIC! Wide roads with no traffic, perfect asphalt surface and the most glorious mix of terrain from rolling dual carriageway, to twisting descents through perfect Iberian villages, with the added bonus of the 1000ft climb to Saint Joan. Each of the two laps was 60km and I had expected to keep steadily to 140-144 on the HRM throughout the bike (except the climb). That sort of went out the window when my normally ultra-reliable Polar S410 decided to give up the ghost at the start of the second lap. I had been steadily passing people (except Dessie, who powered past me after Saint Joan with the disc whirring and ignored my supportive cries he claims he didn’t hear but I suspect hard-core mind games at work!) but lost focus on the second lap and probably backed off a bit much even more so when some daft Italian tried to take a ridiculous line around the outside of both me and Dave Herne (My bike buddy; GB age-grouper who introduced himself after our third encounter!) and ended up wiping out into the ditch.

By this stage it was getting seriously hot and this particular "Pasty Paddy" was glad to get off the bike (No idea of the time until after the event, but feeling pretty strong), indulge in another complete change into the Triathlon Ireland team kit and head out onto the run. Cumulative time 4.59.55 or there abouts!

Ah, the run well I knew I could run, the course was essentially flat and I was feeling good so no problem here then? Well aside from the fact that I been on the go for five hours and the mercury was hitting 87°F with precious little shade, I was still positive and expected to push on!

I went off like it was a single 10K lap rather than three and from the clocks on the course I reckon that I was through that first lap in sub-43 minutes! I was able to keep this foolish pace up until about 10 miles and had actually passed Neil at this stage, as we had continued to do his patented scuttling run. However it was not long after that point that things, rather inevitably, started to go badly wrong in fact Darby later confessed that he was going to tell me to ease back for the sake of lap three but decided that it would be better for my long-term development if I found that out for myself!

I could blame the lack of a HRM, or too few long runs, or the searing heat but in reality I think that it all came down to lack of experience. I went out too hard on the run and drank too much fluid early on (I had a really paranoid fear of dehydration); all of this combined to give me some spectacular stomach cramps and slowed me to a walk. I decided to restrict the walking to through the aid stations, however the definition of what constituted an aid station was slowly stretched until it started when I could see the first volunteer and ended when I had finished my diet of Aquarius, cup of water over the thighs and a bottle of water over my head (You would be surprised how long I could make this regime last!).

So for about 3 aid stations, equivalent to three of four miles, I shambled and was feeling progressively worse until, in a moment of desperation, I grabbed half an apple and tried to force it into me. Miraculously it appeared to soak up a lot of the fluid and after a further apple at the next aid point I was running freely for the final five miles.

I really savoured this last section as the cheers of the crowd appeared to grow and the cries of "C’mon Ireland" rang out more frequently - I realised I was to achieve my goal and just enjoyed the feeling of my muscles operating smoothly again. Peeling off the main circuit and taking my turn up the finishing chute will be a lifelong memory and I glad to be able to cross the line in something that at least resembled a run!

The recovery area, a massage and Neil and Dessie all awaited me as everybody endeavoured to shelter from the blistering heat. Then it was back to Hotel Argos to pack-up the bikes and bags and prepare for a night on the tiles! Well that is what I would like to be able to report in reality we ate well & drank a couple of nice bottles of red wine, spent some time at the Awards Reception (In case Dessie had made the podium) and then had a few beers in town before retiring (Well I did take advantage of free entry to Pacha, had one dance and then headed but I was only doing it for the Legends!).

The return journey was notable only for Dessie’s inability to get on the plane in time and Darby’s retro robot-dance at every given opportunity especially when descending stairs! Then, with one bound, we were back - ready to return to the normality of life, content in having put ourselves into the arena and come out the other side with our heads held high.

Athlete	Swim	T1	Bike	T2	Run	Total	Cat.
Neil Darby	59.57	2.53	3.19.19	1.08	2.19.16	6.42.33	64/73 (Elite)
Dessie McHenry	1.09.35	4.34	3.38.20	1.25	2.25.24	7.19.18	5/27 (55-59)
Gavin Browne	1.10.41	5.22	3.46.11	3.54	2.25.30	7.31.38	53/74 (30-34)