Chasing Kona

by Rob Cummins

  I don’t for one minute believe that you need natural talent. According to my laboratory tests I certainly don’t have enough. What I had was a burning desire to get there. I’d wanted it for probably fifteen years at the time. If you want something badly enough you make it happen. I realised that the secret wasn't in the training plan. The secret to Ironman is how can you fit the training into your daily life.

  One of the things I love about Ironman is the discipline. Not just the discipline of the training, but also learning to apply that discipline to the other parts of my life. Organising everything in advance has been one of the big keys to being able to sustain the level of training and work that both myself and Aisling do. We sit down at the start of the week and plan how we are going to fit everything in. The things that have to be done get slotted in first, like work. Then we start looking at where we can fit in training. Then we put in time off. The benefit of doing it like this is that there are no surprises for either of us. There are clear boundaries set for training, work and home life. We are lucky that we are both involved in the sport, so there isn't any explanation as to why I need to get in another six-hour bike ride or why Ais needs to do a three-hour run. But if you are taking on the challenge of a first Ironman or deciding that you are going to chase Kona, it's very easy to get your partner excited about the enormity of the challenge of the day for you. What's more important is that they are aware of the fact that 95 per cent of an Ironman is done every day for the six to twelve months before you set foot on the starting line and that it will most likely have a huge effect on their life as well as yours. I think it's best to be completely clear from the start about what’s going to be required.

  Like I said, I'm lucky that we are both heavily involved in sport, but I still organise my weeks training ahead of time with Ais, so there are no surprises. It's one of the simplest things we do but is one of the most important lessons I've learnt and one of the keys to being able to make sport a long-term sustainable lifestyle for both of us.

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  Chapter 14

  Training camps, pushing limits

  In May myself and Ais were entered in an eight-day 1200km bike challenge. It wasn't a race but a sportive, and it was to be a key part of my training. It consisted of a huge overload of biking, but at a steady level. As a result the bulk of my swimming and running were cut, with only one session of each done in the eight days.

  I experienced a great physical response to the week on the bike, feeling stronger as the days went on, but I was very tired afterwards and again I struggled to keep going. The two weeks after the massive bike week my training fell off the face of the earth again. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday we did nothing at all. Thursday we met the coach for our weekly session in the Phoenix Park and did an hour’s run with some hard intervals. Friday we did an hour’s easy running, but I felt really tired. Saturday we ran again for an hour with some hard efforts. The following week we were getting ready for a two-week training camp in France and as usual work was manic between catching up from the week off in May and getting ready for the training camp the following week.

  Myself and Ais had hired an apartment just outside Nice in the south of France and were going to put in a big block of volume of all three sports. I think looking back at the training hours I managed on the camp I was nowhere near recovered enough to do another two weeks of big volume training, but this was unknown territory for all of us and while we knew it was risky we didn't feel we had too much choice. Because of the very restrictive timeline we had set we were always going to be pushing the limits of what I could handle and often crossed that line.

  The first week was the hardest mentally. Often just getting out the door was an absolute killer but the coach had told me to stay in daily contact by text and he was brilliant at reading my mood and motivating me to keep going, even when all I wanted was to sleep by the pool. One day I had a ninety-minute tempo run after a three-hour bike ride on the schedule and I had been putting the run off. I hadn't felt too bad on the bike just tired and sick of the constant workload. The coach texted to check on how I was doing and after ascertaining that I wasn't physically over the edge, he told me to put on my runners and go for a fifteen-minute run. ‘Just see how you feel. If you're that bad just cut the session and take the rest of the day off,’ he said. I very reluctantly did as I was told and was amazed to find that about ten minutes in I started to feel good. I went on to do the session exactly as was scheduled.

  It was a good lesson to learn. Just because I didn't feel like going out didn't mean I shouldn't, and if I was actually too tired to train I could just cut the session off and turn back after ten or fifteen minutes. A twenty-minute slow easy run is unlikely to tip you over the edge of overtraining, but it will confirm if you are just mentally tired, in which case an easy run will often do good. I was learning to read the body's signals, telling me whether or not I was going too far. I think I was regularly overreaching, stretching past my body's limits but only to a point from which I could recover. Up to then I hadn't reached a point of overtraining.

  The body has warning signals when you're overdoing it and for me my sleep was one of the first things to be affected if I was pushing too far. Mood is another one of my early warning systems. I get very cranky when I'm reaching the tipping point of doing too much. There are lots of other signals, but I have learned to monitor both of these closely and I now track them in my training log. I can then see patterns emerging as sleep gets poor or mood and motivation is low, so I know I'm reaching a limit. I was learning that I could live with a level of overreaching for a certain length of time without going over the edge. I would usually recover from it in a matter of days. All I needed was a reduction in volume or intensity or a day or two off. Overtraining is very different and can take weeks or months to get over. I hit just under fifty-five hours training in the two weeks and although it was less than I'd hoped to do it was all adding up. I was way too tired at that stage to feel all the positive effects. I just had to trust in the coach and trust that what I had been doing was going to come good in time for the big event in July.

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  Chapter 15

  The Last Push – Hell of The West Triathlon – Kilkee, 2011

  My first real test race to see if I had any chance of qualifying for Ironman UK (IMUK), which was now only four weeks away, was going to be the Hell of the West triathlon in Kilkee. It is one of the most testing Olympic distance races in Ireland and always attracts a very competitive field. I was nervously excited. I was in much better shape than ever before and I was hoping at least to get into the top twenty. I knew that there would be a lot of guys there targeting this as their number one ‘A’ race. I was sort of training through it, but with very little taper or reduction in training load. As a result I would have been very happy to have been up close to the front of the field but had no illusions of anything more ambitious, at a distance that I wasn't expressly targeting.

  The day didn't quite go as planned. In fact it's probably more accurate to say it was a complete disaster. I was 293rd out of the water. I've never been a strong swimmer, but this was worse than I used to be. I spent the rest of the race moving steadily up the field but only finished 93rd.

  I was very disappointed and reality hit me really hard. How could I race Ironman UK in a matter of weeks and expect to be at the top of the field in a triathlon almost four times as long and much more competitive? How could I have trained so hard and had such a bad result?

  I had to put it down as a bad day. I just had to keep on training and hope for the best. Despite the result a tiny part of me still believed I was in much better shape than the day showed. Aisling agreed and all the way home we dissected the race and the preparation, trying to come up with an answer. In the end we decided the best thing was to write it off and to keep following the plan.

  I think the coach recognised that I was reaching the limit of what I could not only do in training but what I could actually absorb. But he also knew that
I wasn't ready to qualify for IMUK in less than four weeks. There was going to be one more push, despite how exhausted I was. The next five days had only very short recovery sessions, and training consisted mainly of short bikes and swims. The respite was short-lived and Saturday saw me do my longest bike ride of just over 200k and a thirty-minute hard run off that. Sunday was a two-hour swim followed by a two-hour run before work. The next nine days totalled thirty-one hours. I alternated between complete exhaustion one day and feeling superhuman the next. I'd have a four-kilometre swim when I felt strong and fast and could go all day. The next day it was all I could do to manage to force myself to stay in the pool and drag myself through a three-kilometre easy swim.

  I struggled through one more big week of just under twenty hours and it was all done. I would never have believed before that I could push myself so hard for so long. I never would have believed that I could continue to train with the level of exhaustion I'd had for over two months now. I had run out of time and all that was left was a two-week taper and to toe the starting line in a fortnight. I discovered I had a problem at this stage because I had programmed my head during dozens of exhausted hard training hours that I only needed to reach this point and that then I was done. However, I still had two weeks of lighter training to go, albeit at a much lower volume, but I couldn't stop. Mentally I found this one of the hardest times. I had no motivation to do any training and the business that had been neglected for the last number of months was in the middle of our busiest period. I had a lot of catching up to do and fought every easy excuse not do do the last few sessions. Ais was great, as always. She kicked my arse or cajoled me into keeping on training, knowing which would work at any given time, which was usually the arse-kicking.

  I had six of the easiest days training I'd had in four months and then I had a couple of key sessions during the weekend before the race, a 4000m time trial being the first. I always have this horrible nervous fear going into what I know is going to be a hard testing session and I was dreading this one all week. I had no idea where my swimming was, as I was always so tired in training. It went incredibly well and I knocked lumps off not only my four-kilometre PB but also off my 1500m and 400m PBs along the way. I got out of the water on such a high I texted the TT numbers to the coach from the changing room. I couldn't wait to call him later. The next day was a one-hour pace run to be run just faster than my target Ironman pace. Again I expected it to hurt and had that nervous fear in my belly driving to the track. When I started it was so easy to hit the time targets that I found myself again on a huge high. I cruised through the workout faster than I'd hoped, feeling like I was flying.

  So there was only one week to go. The last week was only swimming and biking and despite – or probably as a result of – the fantastic workouts I'd had over the weekend I had zero motivation to train. I did a couple of very short swims and bikes before loading up the car and heading for the ferry.

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  Chapter 16

  August 2011 Ironman U.K Bolton 2011

  After the disastrous result in my last triathlon in Kilkee and the fact that some of my training had been a bit hit and miss I and the coach still weren't sure that I was ready for the challenge ahead. I wasn't quite at qualification standard. As a result, we started thinking that it was going to be a ‘B’ race, meaning that I would aim to get straight back into training and have IM Florida in November – three months away – as my backup and probably more realistically as my main ‘A’ race, and with my best chance of qualifying. Instead of the rushed four-month run-in, I would have about seven months in total and the experience of another Ironman under my belt.

  This was a good indication of how nervous we were all feeling at this stage. The taper had gone well though and despite the thought that I wasn't ready by the time race day came around, my confidence was high. I'd had a couple of really successful test sessions in the last week, felt rested and fresh for the first time in months and was the most relaxed I'd ever been at a race.

  As the race day got closer Ais and I did everything possible to have the last week’s preparation as close to perfect as possible. From the taper and carb loading to a short work week we tried to make sure everything within our power was perfect. On Friday we drove the bike course and I started to think that it was made for me. It's really technical, with lots of junctions, corners, rolling hills and a couple of decent climbs. I was also looking forward to the hilly run.

  I spent a couple of hours polishing and cleaning my bike, fitting new bar tape, new tyres and taking it for a test ride. It's part of my pre-race ritual now and one I really enjoy. The lads in the shop have it serviced and ready to ride, but I always go through the last checks myself. I find it very relaxing and it's another box ticked in the preparation. I always think you're as well to go through everything about race day in your head beforehand. I spend time alone visualising each thing I need to do. I write it down and cross each item off the list as I do it. That way I don't forget anything and leave as little as possible to chance. I think it's a big part of making your own luck, by eliminating as much of the ‘bad’ luck as possible through good preparation. You also need to be flexible as things might not always go your way, but the more prepared I am the better I am able to cope when things go wrong.

  Ais and I perform a ritual of writing a message on each other with a permanent marker before we leave for the race start in the morning. Whenever I see it during the day it gives me a lift, knowing I have a little piece of her racing with me on the day. It's often nothing more than a black smudge by the time I get to the run but it still gives me huge confidence.

  IMUK race day

  I like to get to transition and the start early on race day. That way I stay relaxed and usually avoid the extra stress of rushing around trying to get everything done at the last minute. We got to the race site while it was still dark, so race day itself started with a strange level of calm. Everyone has their pre-race routines and I'm no different. I like to walk through transition in the exact way I will be racing in a couple of hours and I do this alone, usually wearing a running cap pulled down low to hide my face and headphones on, with a pre-race playlist kicking in my head. I don’t want to meet anyone I know at this stage and start talking as it’s a hugely important part of my race preparation that I always do uninterrupted and I do it all in my head. I see it like a movie, rehearsing where my bag is in the transition tent. I take it down and empty it, then put on my helmet, glasses and shoes. I then take them back off, replace the bag ready for the race and do it over in my head slowly and deliberately with my eyes closed another three or four times. I will often walk the route into the tent two or three times up to my bag so I don't miss it in the excitement of the race.

  Then I walk out to where my bike is racked, noting any landmarks at the end of my rack or counting them if there isn't one. I walk over and take my bike and walk the route I'm going to take to the exit. Then after I re-rack it I do it over again, eyes closed in my head until I feel calm and ready.

  I had decided to race without a watch as I felt it was better not to know if I'd had a bad swim time as it might affect me mentally and how hard I would push for the rest of the day. It was the first time I had done this. The weather was perfect. It was warm and overcast and forecasted to stay that way all day. I kissed Ais, wished her good luck and swam out for the deep water start. Despite previous poor swim starts I nervously took the advice of my coach, and went right to the front. I had savage butterflies in my stomach as we treaded water for a couple of minutes before the countdown and then the gun sounded and we were off.

  I started fast to try and get away from the scrum at the start and quickly settled into a hard pace but one that I hoped I could sustain. The water was quite warm and the swim went well. I spent long periods drafting in small packs and felt I swam hard the whole way. I got out of the water knowing I had done all I could in terms of effort. I just had to hope it was good enough. I didn't see the clock as I exited so didn
't find out till after the race that I had a swum a PB of 1h02. I ran into T1 and despite all of my mental preparation, I grabbed Aisling’s bag instead of mine. I had to run back to change it. Then in my panic to make up for the lost time I made a bit of a mess of putting on my shoes and fumbled like a beginner with my helmet. I swore I'd do better next time. I ran through transition as I had planned with no more mishaps and started very steadily on the bike. I occupied my mind with correct pacing, thinking about my nutrition and riding as smart as possible.

  The hardest part of the first thirty minutes was getting passed by quite a few people. I argued with myself that I knew how I should feel at this stage. I knew I was riding the correct pace for me and that they were either faster than me, in which case I shouldn’t race them, or they were starting too fast and in that case I'd see them again soon enough. Indeed I saw them all again, mostly in the first hour. I think the most valuable lesson I've learned about racing or even just completing an Ironman is just how easy it feels at the start of the bike and how much self restraint it takes not to race as hard as you ‘feel’ you can or should for the first thirty or forty kilometres. I was constantly moving up through the field but had no idea how far up.