Weymouth Ironman 70.3, 18 Sep 2022

My delay in writing this report makes it abundantly clear that the race really took it out of me: not just physically but also mentally. I normally enjoy writing these but it has taken me a lot to sit down and put my proverbial pen to paper with this one. That is by no means to say that it wasn’t a positive experience, because it really was, but so far my races have all felt relatively comfortable – there hasn’t been a point for me in the last year where I felt like I wanted to quit during a race, whereas in Weymouth I really did hit a bit of a wall.

But let me back up. My training this summer had been going really well – my boyfriend and I even made the decision to stay in the UK over the summer, and at least part of that decision was made because I wanted to have an opportunity to put in a solid block of training, now that the bustle of a term at Oxford was over. I was increasing my mileage both on runs and rides and was even finally seeing some improvements in the pool after very inconsistent swimming all year. Then around 6 weeks before the race I had the unfortunate experience of being guided to some exercises by a physio that really didn’t agree with me, and within the space of a few days I went from running the highest consistent mileage I’ve ever done to not being able to run for 15 minutes without knee pain. I was pretty distraught. After this persisted for a week, I tried to sell my Weymouth entry to one of my fellow triathletes, but no one wanted to take it. I suppose this was a blessing really!

After discussing with Tim, I went back to the same physio and we tried to figure out what the problem was. They gave me some gentler exercises and I began to feel some improvements in my knee. I was still able to run a little over this period, but no more than around 30 minutes at a 5:30/km pace - which is normally my comfortable pace for a long run. This also set me back mentally and I felt less motivated to train the disciplines that I could still do pain free. I had been feeling so happy with my increasing fitness and now I felt a huge knock in my confidence as a result of this setback so close to the race. We did manage to make some progress on getting back some run fitness but nothing like as much as I would have liked. Things continued to improve, and a few days before the race I found myself in Weymouth on a little ‘holiday’. It really did feel like a holiday because I was tapering and the weather was fine so we spent lots of time lounging around on the beach, reading and playing cards. I also did a few short sea swims and found myself getting comfortable with the temperature, salty water and the waves.

I needn’t have worried about waves however, because on the day of the race the water was incredibly calm. I wish I could say the same for myself – I was all nerves! But having recced the start of the bike course, done a pain free run the previous day, and eaten copious amounts of pasta, I was happy that I had, under the circumstances, prepared myself as best as I could.

The swim went really well! There were a couple of times where I was hit in the arms and face by other swimmers, but I didn’t let this bother me much, and I very quickly found a solid rhythm and a good line around the course. I was on the inside of the swim, which was good for efficiency, but the water was quite crowded despite the staggered start and at every buoy we approached, the field seemed to approach a bottleneck, so it really did get quite congested at times. On the whole, the swim passed quite quickly though and I was pleasantly surprised when I looked down at my watch to see that I had swum the course in 31:35! The official time was a bit slower, but still under 32 minutes.

T2 was slow! It was quite a long run to the transition area from the pebbled (ouch!) beach, and my feet were so cold, I was really scared that I was going to trip. A very sweet man helped me open a gel because my hands were so cold and then I was ready to be off! Or was I? I ran around transition looking for my bike because the place that I had memorised didn’t have my bike in after all. No, it did actually, but for some reason seeing my bike next to all the other black ones, I didn’t recognise it. Finally I was off on the bike course.

The bike started off well and I realised with excitement that my swim had put me close to the pointy end of the race. However, I was so cold in my wet trisuit that I found it really difficult to do the things I had planned to: namely drink enough and eat plenty. I forced myself to do both of these things, but with my cold fingers I struggled to get the bottle in and out of the cage, and something – the adrenaline or the cold – was making it hard for me to eat. The course has rolling hills, so I was surprised that it took me the best part of an hour to start to feel warm, given the elevation we were covering. I was getting passed quite a lot but almost exclusively by men on fancy TT bikes so I didn’t let it bother me too much and I averaged 31kph in the first hour of the ride. Then the real issues started. My stomach didn’t feel good at all, and try as I might, I could only force myself to eat mouse-sized pieces of the cereal bars I had attached to my handlebars. I realised that my energy levels would plummet if I didn’t manage to get any calories in, but this only added to my feelings of stress. I had also only managed to drink around ¾ of a water bottle during the bike leg, which was nowhere near enough. At some point about 5k from the end of the route I felt so uncomfortable that I decided to stop for a pee and had to jump over a fence to do so! Needless to say, I got overtaken by lots of people doing that as well. I did manage to finish the bike course in a time of 3h 7m.

I was relieved when I finally saw the end of the course and the transition area, but I still wasn’t feeling great in my stomach and I knew that my absolutely crap nutrition was unlikely to set me up for a good run. Unsurprisingly, I felt pretty shoddy from the get go. I did the first 8k at around 5:15 pace, telling myself that I would speed up at the 10k mark. I was trying to eat bananas and gels as well as rehydrate, but mentally I was starting to feel pretty drained, as the discomfort in my stomach persisted. At 10k I broke. I saw Alex on the side lines and burst into tears. I stopped for a hug and we walked some paces together as he desperately tried to get me to keep running. It was a relief to cry and have some human contact after being inside my head for over 5 hours and I resolved that I would finish the race and try to run as much as possible.

I would love to say that the rest is a blur, but actually every step was a mental battle. I allowed myself to walk at each aid station, a tactic many around me were also adopting, and continued to try and eat and drink as much as I could. The atmosphere really was what got me through. There were so many spectators in Weymouth and there wasn’t a moment where I felt I was running alone. My fellow runners also cheered me on and I tried to return the favour as best as I could despite battling with my own demons! I adopted the mantra “pain is inevitable, suffering is optional”, which I had read recently in a book by Murakami. It helped. I made it to the red carpet, and while I look very pleased in the photos to be done with the race, I was actually overwhelmed with pride.

I hadn’t realised how tough I would find it. I had delusions of a time I would like to complete the race in, but really that didn’t matter much anymore. I had finished. I had wanted to quit and I had managed to overcome those feelings. It really was a forming experience and more of an achievement for me than I could have imagined, and I will not be signing myself up for the next one lightly, but, boy, am I glad I did it.

 Emilia Miller