It’s a strange time of year for the majority of triathletes (in the northern hemisphere, at least). Winter is upon us, end of season breaks are now behind us, and the training has set back in. But we feel so far away from race season that the motivation isn’t as sharp as we’d like it to be. Don’t worry, it’s normal.

Aside from the part of me that hates cold, wet weather, I actually quite enjoy this time of year. For me, in all aspects of my life – as a marketing consultant, as a triathlete, and as a human being – I like to use this wind-down towards the end of the year as a period of reflection.

I am quite geeky when it comes to productivity – I have lists for absolutely everything. But not just to-do lists; I create lists, and memoirs of sorts, which highlight what I have achieved across my different life pillars.

When you’re so busy ‘being busy’, it’s sometimes hard to stop and truly reflect on what you have achieved over the past 12 months – or a decade, or even a lifetime. What we tend to do is just keep ploughing on in life, and then suddenly, five or ten years later, say “Oh, I wish I’d done that when I was a bit younger/before I had kids/when I had less responsibility at work”, etc.

This reflective period works for me to keep my day to day, month to month, year to year stuff aligned with my higher objectives in life, i.e, health, happiness, success etc. I often ask myself: “Is what I am doing right now, in this moment, contributing to my higher objectives?” If the answer is no, then it raises a question mark which I need to address.

So, from a purely triathlon perspective, you can apply the same ethos. Sometimes it’s so hard to get out the door and go for that run when it’s dark and freezing cold, or jump on the turbo for a godawful high intensity interval session. But when you ask yourself, “is this contributing towards my bigger goals?” and the answer is yes – there’s your motivation. Because we all know, it’s the massive accumulation of tiny parts which creates the bigger picture of success.

Why review?

So back to the lists. It can be easy to disregard what we’ve achieved because all we ever do is think forward – “I’m going to beat that time next year”, or “next year I’m going to have a crack at that.” Looking forward is great – looking back is important too.

I’m going to share my list of things I’ve achieved this year – just triathlon related. And I’m not proclaiming that there’s anything spectacular in here that I want to brag about – it’s purely about my own personal achievements in the sport; even if that’s a PB by 1 second or managing to swim 4k without stopping.

2017 – what I have achieved

• -I finally managed to complete an Ironman 70.3 in sub-5 hours
• -I managed to complete two further Ironman 70.3s in sub-5 hours
• -I discovered a health issue (hypothyroidism), and fixed it
• -I achieved a half marathon PB of 1:37
• -I gained a slot for the Ironman 70.3 World Championships
• -Significantly increased my power to weight ratio
• -I won a domestic Olympic distance triathlon
• -Raced in two new countries I hadn’t visited before
• -Made new friends in the triathlon world

Naturally, there are negatives. We all know what we didn’t manage to achieve this year. And don’t worry, there’s plenty of that too. But I don’t list the negatives.

What I do instead is project what I want to achieve next year – it puts a positive spin on things I haven’t managed to accomplish yet, and is far more motivating. Plus, you can add in new goals and objectives that have arisen out of personal experiences, hidden dreams and aspirations, and inspiration from others.

So here it is:

2018 – what I want to achieve

• -Complete a full Ironman in a respectable time which reflects my true ability
• -Qualify for Kona (!)
• -Record another half marathon PB
• -Compete in more domestic races and get onto the podium
• -Increase my FTP by 10 watts
• -Race in a new country I haven’t visited before
• -Go on training camps with friends
• -Continue to rock climb alongside my triathlon training

Ok, the last one isn’t triathlon related but it’s sports-focused. My passion for climbing hasn’t gone away and I want to keep the fire alive, plus I don’t think it does any harm as it’s a fantastic all-body workout.

The benefit of this type of exercise is that it encourages you to really think about what you want in life, and when you apply it across all aspects – work, family/home, hobbies – you get a very rounded view of where you’ve been going, and what direction you want to take in the future.

We probably all create race plans as triathletes are a certain type of person – that drive and commitment doesn’t quieten down. But it’s good to check in and make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons, and to incorporate all aspects of your goals rather than simply producing a race calendar.

Plus, apart from anything else, it’s a great thing to do to spark that motivation back up. It certainly has me fired up for next year now…

Robert Twells November 21, 2017

Leave a Comment

It’s always funny how quickly your A-race comes around. You think you have all year, but a few ‘warm-up’ races and a whole lot of training later, and suddenly you’re there, on the start line, wondering where the hell life has gone and whether you’ll be able to achieve what you plan to over the course of the day.

For the third consecutive year, my A-race was the Ironman 70.3 World Championship. After two years of distinctly (and quite possible less than) mediocre races, it was time to face my demons.

I get nervous before races – mostly the day before and the morning of the race – but no matter how much I race (which is a fair bit, for an age grouper), it doesn’t seem to change an awful lot. At last year’s 70.3 world champs in Australia, I even had a total meltdown the day before the race. Far from ideal prep, but often not something we can fully control.

This year was very different. I flew out much later than usual, arriving just four (really three by the time we got there in the early hours of the morning!) days before the race. Get in, get it done. No point in faffing about with body clocks and time zones this time.

A few recces of the course and a massive shop in the Wholefoods store (who thought you could get healthy food in America!?), and race day was upon us in a flash. I recommend taking Cialis tadalafil at https://summitps.org/generic-tadalafil-buy/ for men who are faced with difficulties in intimate life. The team at the Ceepo stand in the expo had kindly rewired my gears (thanks guys!), everything was running smoothly and it all went well during the course recces. I mean, there was a massive current in the river, a monumental climb on the bike, and the hilliest run I have ever seen on a 70.3 course, but apart from that, what could possibly go wrong!?

Probably not a lot, other than forgetting half your kit. Yep, I did that too. Despite how much I race, and being the most organised person in the world (I have lists and spreadsheets for everything, even for packing for a triathlon), I forgot two VERY important (and personal) components of a triathlon. My goggles, and my bike shoes. Yep, you read that right.

In completely uncharacteristic style, I remained pretty calm. I went down to the expo and bought the only pair of triathlon bike shoes available. I even got a massive discount because my friends at Ceepo had a word with the team on the stand – bonus! New cleats as well, it felt like Christmas. Now just to work out how the hell I needed to position the cleats on bike shoes that I’ve never worn before….

Having checked the expo for a pair of goggles that I usually use, and having no such success, I needed a plan B. Sticking to the sensible option of racing in goggles I am used to (and not wearing new kit on race day!), I posted on social media. The next day, I had the exact same pair of goggles that I always wear in my hand. (Thanks Mark Julier!)

Ordinarily, I’d be more than a little disconcerted by all of those things. Quite possibly even freaking out. This time though, I was completely calm; almost, dare I say it, a bit nonchalant. It didn’t faze me one bit.

This, I reasoned, was mostly down to the fact that all my prep had gone amazingly well. Since discovering my hypothyroidism and going on medication for it, my training has only gone from strength to strength – I was still producing really good numbers (for me), making continued improvements, and I had lost 6kg so was feeling leaner than ever.

I had massive confidence in myself – something I can unequivocally say I have never had since I have been taking part in triathlons. Ever.

My coach, Mark Pearce, has been fantastic – he has worked me harder than I’d ever imagined and some of the sessions left me totally broken. But they work, and it was reassuring to know that I not only had confidence in myself for the first time ever, I had huge confidence in the training my coach has set me.

A nice relaxed race morning (still feeling weirdly calm) in beautiful weather, and we were heading down to the rolling age group start. I stood on the pontoon quietly confident and feeling great.

The swim was fairly uneventful – I felt like I didn’t get myself into the most amazing position being on the far outside of the ‘pack’, but gradually moved in towards the buoys as we pushed along. It felt a bit slow if I’m honest, maybe I just wasn’t pushing hard enough – the hills were in the back of my head and I was possibly conserving some energy. Who knows as it wasn’t a conscious decision!

After what felt like a pretty long time, I exited the water and was a bit disappointed to see a swim time of 34-odd minutes. Jeez, that really was slow.

Hoping it was the same for everyone, I ran into T1 and off out onto the bike. As I exited T1, I heard someone shout my name and saw my Ceepo guys at the bike mount line. Embarrassingly, as I went to mount the bike, I pushed the pedal back to line it up and the chain fell off. Awkward. Not looking very slick right now….

A quick ping back on and I was off, feeling like the absolute chopper that I probably am in reality. Ok, time to hit some mediocre power numbers!

The climb was early on in the course, only about 10k in, so I felt barely warmed up before we hit the unrelenting gradient. We had decided that I needed to be around 100% FTP for the whole climb (around 20 minutes’ worth), otherwise I’d lose too much time and would be unable to reclaim it for the remainder of the race.

I started climbing at this power target and felt fantastic. I couldn’t believe how good I actually felt. So for context, historically, I have pretty much only been overtaken on climbs. I’m not a natural climber. This time, I was overtaking everyone. I think only one girl passed me on the climb. It felt incredible!

The rest of the course was rolling before a pretty awesome descent (no-one overtook me on the descent either), and then a rolling/flat-ish final 45k. I felt ok but seemed like I was fading a bit towards the end and was looking forward to getting off the bike.

Again, a seemingly disappointing bike time of 2:51 but I knew from being out there on the course that it wasn’t terrible, as I could compare myself to other girls I had seen.

Onto the first of two loops of the run, and almost immediately I could feel the climb in my legs. As soon as the road saw even a slight incline, my average target pace dropped and I struggled to hold it. I felt ok, but I didn’t want to push too hard too early on otherwise I’d be in a hole I wouldn’t be able to recover from. So I kept it at an uncomfortable but not unbearable level.

Then the hills came. My average paced slowed to almost a walk, a little waddle upwards. People around me were walking. The hills felt ridiculous – long and not exactly a gentle gradient. I pushed hard on the downhills to recover some time, but it wasn’t really good enough – I knew I wasn’t going to go sub-5 on this course, not even close. It was brutal.

Ploughing on (literally), I finally made it to the finish line with a 1:44 half marathon and an overall time of 5:16. Not exactly a dazzling performance but not horrific either.

Yet again, I was disappointed to learn I had come 44^th in my age group (out of 243). I’d had higher ambitions than that. I was slightly appeased on learning that the winner of my age group finished in 4:54 and that only six girls had gone sub-5 on that course. Testament to how hard it was, but still.

In a debrief with Mark, he said that it was a really solid performance and that I couldn’t have asked much more of myself on the day. I sort of felt the same – that while it wasn’t an amazing performance, it wasn’t half bad either (top 18% in my AG in the world), but more importantly, it was an honest reflection of my current ability.

He also said we could shave 20 minutes off that – which would have put me on the podium – so let’s just see about that! That’s another bridge to cross – right now, it was time to enjoy the moment and be proud of what I have achieved this season.

Now, I’m enjoying my end of season break without having the demands of training, and although I am still thinking about triathlon a fair bit, it’s nice to have a mental break from it as well as physical.

So thank you to those that have supported me during the build up to this race, you know who you are, and I am forever grateful.

2017 season, over and out.

Robert Twells September 25, 2017

Leave a Comment

Although I make a habit out of travelling to new places to race, I always think it’s good to have a ‘benchmark’ race – one you go back to year on year to measure improvements. Sure, conditions can vary considerably, but you can often get an idea of your performance gains by testing yourself on the same course.

Plus I’m also a fan of going back to races when you need a ‘filler’ at some point in your season – it’s easy when you know the place, know the course, know the logistics etc. It makes for less hassle, less stress, and you can often get there, race and get away within just a few days.

This is the reason I have raced Ironman 70.3 Gdynia for the past three years running. Well, this is one of the reasons – one of the main reasons is actually because it’s unequivocally one of the best races on the circuit – and as someone who has raced all over the world, I don’t use that statement lightly! It’s easy to get to, cheap when you get there, the race is one of the best organised races I have ever experienced, the atmosphere is amazing, and you can do the whole trip in just three nights. Plus, it starts and finishes on the beach. Need I say more?

Anyway, I went back to Poland for my penultimate race of the season; a ‘warm-up’ for the 70.3 World Championships. It was especially exciting this time as my parents were coming along to support me, which, given my penchant for exotic race locations, doesn’t happen that often these days!

Things had been going very, very well in training. Better than ever, actually. It’s been a solid season so far and things were still improving. For the 2015 and 2016 seasons, I had posted PBs at Gdynia 70.3, and although I wasn’t expecting a PB, I knew I was capable of knocking a chunk of time off my course best.

My coach Mark messaged me the day before the race: “Feeling good?”. To be honest, I never feel particularly good during taper week. When I’m hitting all the harder sessions I feel great but as soon as that taper comes, it’s hard to feel ‘sharp’ – I tend to just feel sluggish, heavy and like I’ve lost fitness, although I know that’s all in the head!

On race morning I felt quite nervous. Nothing out of the norm but maybe also because my parents were there. I’d had a pretty busy/stressful few weeks leading up to the race as I am right in the middle of buying my first house on my own, and there is SO much to do! So even with a decent taper, I wasn’t exactly feeling ‘fresh’.

I stood on the beach with the new rolling start about to take off. Then the gun went, so loudly it made me jump, and we were running (more like wading) into the water. I remember this swim is always quite slow, and it was obvious that it was the same for everyone as the fastest starting pen based on split time was for athletes who predicted they would swim ‘under 32:59’!

Maybe it’s all the jellyfish getting in the way. I’ve never seen so many, they must have been freaking out having thousands of swimmers slamming into them. They don’t sting, they just feel a bit gross when you mash your hand into one, or one goes into your face like a slimy film.

At the first true turn point, the water got very choppy. It was hard to get any rhythm going and any delusions of trying to get a PB swim split for this course went flying out the window. It was survival mode. It was pretty horrendous, I was begging for it to be over as I battled through the chop. Really draining as well, and I swallowed a bit of water which doesn’t usually happen.

Finally, we were heading towards the swim exit. Out into T1 with a 34 minute swim. Hah, not breaking any records with that! I had to sit down as I put my bike shoes on as I nearly fell over, probably from all the motion.

As an AWA athlete my bike was racked next to the pros so that was an absolute bonus – straight out and onto the section of cobbles before we hit the roads proper. I was struggling to calm down after the tumultuous swim; it felt like a good 25 minutes on the bike before I felt like I had settled into the pace. It just felt like I had burned a few matches and needed to set things back again before I ended up in the red for too long.

We hit ‘the climb’ on the bike course as the road snaked its way up through this sort of national park area. I had to focus quite hard to keep the power on, my legs weren’t feeling great and I was starting to feel a little worried about how the day would pan out.

At 35k into the bike I genuinely almost started crying. I felt pretty ropey, and couldn’t believe I wasn’t even at half way. In fact, I was only just over an hour in – at this rate the bike would take me three hours! It felt like it was taking forever, I was losing a bit of power already and didn’t feel like I had that much energy, despite my nutrition all going to plan. I also felt sick right from the off, pretty unusual for me so early on in a race.

I ploughed on, the whole first half of the bike course was into horrendous headwinds of around 40kph which was just absolutely energy sapping. Also most of the climbing is in the first half, it’s sort of a constant rolling course so you don’t really feel like you get much momentum up before you’re on a short climb again.

Finally, at 45k ish, the loop turned back on itself and there it was. That beautiful tailwind. YES. This is what we need. I had forgotten how fast the last section of the bike course is, particularly the last 25k where I was averaging over 40kph. It’s not really downhill as such but there is some low gradient descending, and the tailwind was doing wonders.

I only realised in the last third of the bike leg that I was on for beating my previous time on this bike course – the first half was spent doubting whether I’d even get close to last year’s time! Now I knew I would take some time off, I was spurred on and pushed a bit harder towards the end.

I ended up coming off the bike in 2:40 – taking seven minutes off last year’s time, despite the brutally windy conditions. Guess I’ll take that!

Just the run to do now, thank god. I was glad to get off that bike, for some reason I really struggled and wasn’t really holding much hope for the run given how knackered I had felt on the bike. I started running and it took a good 20 minutes to find my run legs. At that point, however, I had the onset of massive stomach cramps. Jesus Christ, where had this come from? It was awful, I have never ever experienced that kind of stomach pain during a race. I almost had to stop and walk.

I was gurning, and gritting my teeth, thinking I’d be holding on just to get something like a 1:50 run split. Damn. There goes a sub-5 then. I was in so much pain it made me want to cry, I couldn’t take on gels either. Annoyingly my legs felt really good so I just cruised along at a fairly plodding pace, hoping it would ease off.

Amazingly, it did start to ease off. The pain became a discomfort which I could then start to ignore and run through a little bit. I braved a bit of gel and felt ok. It eased off a little more during the second half of the second lap. The run was going SO quickly – I couldn’t believe I had ticked off 11k already, it felt like I was jogging! Right, time to pick up the pace again now then!

I did a quick calculation in my head and realised that I was on for a run PB. How the HELL had that happened when I plodded the first lap!? It was bizarre! My legs felt amazing, so, so fresh – I couldn’t believe how good I felt after feeling so rubbish on the bike! I picked up the pace a bit more, I was feeling so strong.

It would have been quite amusing watching – on lap one I shouted to my parents how tough the race had been so far. On lap two I was rubbing my stomach and saying it was really painful with a grimace on my face. On lap three I ran past them smiling with my thumbs up. Haha, triathlon is so weird – the different emotions we go through. I felt like some sort of psychopath with split personality disorder!

The last section of the run was amazing, I was absolutely loving it. How odd, I never feel like that towards the end of a run. Maybe that’s the secret – plod the first lap and pick it up from there!

I realised I could just go under 1:40 which was awesome – my current ‘off the bike’ half marathon PB was 1:42, the same time I had achieved on this course last year. Then I ran down the finish line and couldn’t believe my watch – it said 1:37! Flipping heck, that’s pretty much my standalone half marathon PB! Where on earth had that come from!?

I was also delighted to go sub-5 yet again with a time of 4:56, especially with tough conditions on the day. After chasing the sub-5 goal for years, this was my third sub-5 race this year alone. And now a massive five minute half marathon PB – that’s huge!

I was over the moon. I didn’t care where I’d come as I knew I’d done well as a personal performance. As it happens, I was fifth in my age group (that goddamn elusive podium), and 19^th female overall – including eight pros. Guess I’ll take that!

It was wonderful celebrating with my parents that evening, I am, super happy with the progress I’ve made this year and can’t thank my coach Mark enough for this.

I don’t usually do a ‘thank you’ diatribe at the end of blogs but I’m so grateful I have the most amazing people around me. Massive thanks to my parents for being the best support imaginable, and all my fantastic sponsors who I am absolutely honoured to work with over these past few years.

I might not have hit the podium but I know I’ll get there eventually.

Next stop, World Champs!

Robert Twells August 7, 2017

Leave a Comment

After Luxembourg 70.3, my coach decided that I needed another race before my next planned race to “sharpen me up”. Oh, so a further two 70.3s isn’t enough then!? Fair enough!

So I found a local Olympic distance race around the planned date, three weeks out from my next key race – Ironman 70.3 Gdynia, hoping I wouldn’t be too ‘blunt’ by the time it came around!

The week leading up to this race, I was in the Lake District for a week of training, completing some pretty hard sessions (and eating lots of cake to counter that). In fact, the past two weeks had been predominantly about high intensity sessions and hitting those target numbers, but when you get hill reps in the Lakes, they truly are hills!

All was going really well and I continued to get positive feedback on Training Peaks. Not only were the numbers all looking good, I was feeling good on it too. (Apart from the day I got locked out of the holiday cottage after An FTP development ride and had to wait an hour to be let in by the cleaner. Cue MASSIVE HANGER).

We decided not to taper for the race as it was only really a training day, so I trained right up to it. Tapering is overrated anyway right!? Just time to focus on carb loading then…

It was kind of unusual being at home the day before a race – as you all know, I tend to race abroad so this was a pretty unique experience just chilling at home pre-race day. So much so, in fact, that it didn’t even feel like I was racing.

Bright and early on Sunday morning and I met my old school friend Fran who was taking part in the sprint distance. We had to get there early to register then had a few hours of faffing about as our waves didn’t start until a bit later. I felt stupidly relaxed, it was so weird, literally no pre-race nerves whatsoever.

Partially because it wasn’t really a ‘race’, more of a training day, and probably partially because I was in Marlow and not Mallorca (or similar)!

Off we went. The swim felt long and I didn’t feel like I was pushing that hard – I thought I’d be tired from the previous week of training and could feel it in the swim, so just sort of held it where it felt comfortable-ish. Two laps down and finally I was being hauled out of the water by the swim exit guy. I looked at my watch, 28 minutes. Well that’s rubbish for 1.5k!

David shouted at me that I was fourth lady out of the water (always flippin’ fourth!), so I legged it into T1 and ran out along the really long grass section to the potholed road (slightly less glamorous than a beach/silken roads on the continent, but I’ll take it).

I almost immediately passed a girl coming out of transition on the bike, and a minute or so later, passed another. However, I happened to pass her on a hill, and I’m not known for being a mountain goat. So ensued some furious pedalling as I suddenly realised that if I passed her, she would be likely to come cruising past me all calm and collected a few seconds later. In a bid for that to not happen, I was burning a few too many matches and it took me at least 20 minutes to recover from it!

During this whole debacle I actually passed another girl, so as I reached a downhill section and tried to recover my breath (and the mass of lactic acid in my quads), I realised I was potentially in second place. The long undulating section of road seemed to take a while (and the road surface was absolutely dire – isn’t this supposed to be a posh part of the country!?) before we reached another long steady climb.

Just before the turnaround point on the climb I passed another lady. Ok, we are on. I think I am now leading this race. Jesus Christ. Well that’s a first.

As I turned around I knew I was quids in as I had passed the other girls on sections I typically find tough. The way back was downhill and a lot faster. Time to put the hammer down.

I averaged nearly 40kph heading back towards T2, and got confirmation that I was first lady off the bike, in 1:10. Oh wow. Ok, just to hold onto this run then.

Given how hard the bike had felt in terms of my legs feeling tired from all the training that was in them, I was anticipating running off the bike a little like a semi-squashed ant. In fact, the first 500m or so did feel a bit like that – my legs felt stiff and I thought I could be on for a struggle, but I glanced down at my watch and registered surprise at my pace.

I settled in to the pace and it started to feel comfortable, so I decided to hold it there. I was completely on my own, there seemed to be no other competitors on the course at all – not even any men, it felt extremely lonely! Apart from the odd marshal at a turn point, it was like a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie. At one point I thought I had actually run past the turn point as it was just eerily quiet.

I completed lap one and my pace was still on, and there was no sign of any other women. I started to pass a few people who had begun their first lap and had to dodge a few Sunday walkers, but other than that, the second lap still felt pretty lonely out there. I was managing to hold onto my pace and still feeling comfortable (this isn’t how racing should be, surely!?) but in the last section, I started to worry that someone might pass me so sped up a little bit.

I ran through the finish with a 45 minute 10k run time and a total time of 2:25 something or other. I had confirmation that I had won the women’s race, I couldn’t quite believe it!

I later found out that I was a full 7.5 minutes ahead of the next lady (damn, I could have slacked off even more on the run!) and was 17^th overall including the men.

Ok, so it’s only a local race and the competition probably wasn’t exactly super-high standard, but as they say, a win is a win and I’m taking that.

Truth is I know I’m in the best shape of my life right now and to even reap some of the positives of that, even if it is just a small local race, feels so rewarding. Especially on tired legs J

It was a huge confidence boost as I go into my next big race at Gdynia 70.3, and a stepping stone towards the Ironman 70.3 World Championship in just seven weeks’ time. I’m really excited to see what I can do in my next two races – so far, this season has been the best ever performance-wise. Let’s hope it doesn’t stop here…

Robert Twells July 21, 2017

Leave a Comment

In my last blog, I mentioned that I had been suffering from some health issues. Once we had diagnosed the problem as an under-active thyroid, I was on thyroxine medication and started to pick back up again.

Robert Twells June 25, 2017

Leave a Comment

I think when you’ve been training for a number of years and you pay close to attention to how you fuel your body, maximise recovery methods, measure performance gains and generally raise your consciousness about what ‘feels healthy’, you become pretty in tune with your body. So for me, when something doesn’t feel ‘quite right’, it’s time to pay  attention to it.
 
Probably most of the population feels ‘a bit under the weather’ most of the time – all you need to do is walk in any office to realise that! But when you are a so-called ‘athlete’, it’s a bit different because you notice the tiny things. We are always paying attention to such small details, these elusive ‘margins’ we like to talk of, so when something miniscule shifts in us, it feels significant.
 
During my last race in Texas in early April, I knew something wasn’t right. I couldn’t even pinpoint what – I was even saying to myself in my head that something wasn’t right – not the type of negative self-talk you need during a race but I couldn’t help but acknowledge it. I knew something was off, I wasn’t hitting the power targets and my run fell apart a bit.
 
It didn’t stop there though – I was a wreck when I got home. For that whole week after the race I was struggling with life in general, I felt exhausted and totally flat. My friends and family noticed – my mum was convinced it was just jetlag but I wasn’t so sure – I mean I am used to travelling and hadn’t felt this bad before.
 
Then I became ill with another cold – exactly 12 days after the race and the exact same period of time that had elapsed after Dubai 70.3 in January before I fell ill with a cold. Ok immune system, what are you playing at!?
 
I felt tired during supposed steady, level two training sessions. It may not sound like anything worth mentioning – I did have a cold, after all – but you just know when you know.
 
I wanted to cover all bases – literally anything that went wrong during and after my race, so had a really comprehensive Retül bike fit with James at Ride Harder, got my wonderful mechanic Lee at OTEC bikes to sort some new bits out on my bike, saw my brilliant chiropractor Ian at total Balance Clinic and my biomechanics coach Chris at The Human Body Project – we looked at everything to refine it all.
 
I wanted to enter my next race knowing that no matter what, I had explored every possible option and eliminated any possible weak points.
 
Furthermore, I had chats with my nutritionist Renee and my coach Mark, and decided to get full blood profiling done. I also spoke to a few medical experts such as endocrine experts and a sports and performance doctor to look into getting all manner of things such as hormone and sweat tests done, but ended up getting blood tests at my local GP. I have to say, I felt like a bit of an idiot going in and saying, “erm, yes, so I don’t feel quite right at the moment although there’s not really anything in particular wrong with me.”
 
To be honest, it got to the point where we sort of decided it was likely to be over training. This was devastating news. It was the weekend after Easter and I just sat around feeling miserable – I wondered whether I might need to take weeks off training, which would mean missing my next race in Mallorca.
 
I drafted up a contingency plan for Mallorca if I couldn’t race. I started taking every imaginable health food under the sun to get my immune system back up and running, I explored nutritional support from Emma Patel of North Norfolk Nutrition, who is super focused on micronutrients and general wellness. I was doing everything in my power to make sure I could get through this.
 
It sounds extreme – after all, I only had a cold! But when you know your body so well that you know there’s something else going on, it’s hard to ignore. A review of the literature has shown that Xanax at https://mi-aimh.org/xanax-alprazolam/ is most effective in the treatment of disorders, the clinical picture of which is predominantly determined in varying degrees by a pronounced anxious component. These include panic disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, a variety of anxiety-depressive states, including reactive ones, anxiety states in somatic diseases, some variants of obsessive-compulsive disorder, withdrawal conditions, isolated phobias. And I wanted to make sure I was in the best possible health so I could continue this season while minimising any setbacks.
 
My blood tests came back and I went to chat them through with my doctor. When I originally looked online it looked like my white blood cell count was low and that iron might be low. He quickly dismissed that and said they were totally normal and there was nothing to worry about at all – in fact, my blood profile looked strong and healthy.
 
There was, however, a red flag. My Thyroid Stimulating Hormone (TSH) was above the normal range. Apparently, this suggests that it’s working overtime to try and produce thyroxin, and is indicative of an under-active thyroid. We looked at my graph and it was high even seven years ago in 2009, just scraping within the normal range (which it had now breached).
 
It explained a lot – I was tired, sometimes (although not always), and very often cold with poor circulation. I also seem to struggle to lose weight, even when I am making every effort to do so. Plus, my mum has hypothyroidism and it is genetic.
 
So, medication for life. Well, hormone replacement, as it’s not truly ‘medicine’. I was so relieved I practically danced out of the clinic – I was so happy that I had found out what the problem was, that I wasn’t being perversely paranoid or would have to spend months worrying about what was wrong with me and whether I was doing the right thing. It was a simple solution to a problem which could have strung out for months, as these things can sometimes be very difficult to identify, especially when the ‘symptoms’ are pretty non-descript!
 
It’s that funny thing when you just have a feeling that something is up. In my humble experience, it’s better to catch these things when they simply present themselves as something which doesn’t quite add up – before it becomes a full blown issue and you really are forced to rest or reassess your training.
 
Maybe it’s also the reason I haven’t been injured in four years of competing in triathlons – I listen carefully to what my body is telling me, then adjust, readjust, and refine until we have a solution and can move confidently on.
So now it’s time to wait and see whether the Thyroxin will have a positive effect – we are having blood tests retaken in six weeks’ time to monitor and measure, plus I’ll be looking out for any of those strange feelings of ‘not rightness’ that we all get from time to time.
 
In the meantime, head down and back on it as I have another race to tackle in just a short few weeks!
 

Robert Twells April 27, 2017

Leave a Comment

Almost immediately after coming home from Dubai 70.3 in January, I realised that my next planned race in May was too long to wait. My pro friend Kim Morrison was convincing me that the course in Ironman Texas 70.3 would suit me well, and asked if I would like to join up with her for the race.
 
It didn’t take much convincing. One flight booking later, and I was chatting through the plan with my coach now we had added in a ‘bonus’ race to the season’s calendar.
 
The problem was that almost straight after Dubai, I had a week’s easy training to recover then a duathlon. Then an easier recovery week and then a half marathon. This period felt like a constant recover-taper-recover-taper cycle and basically culminated in me feeling perma-tired.
 
After the half was out the way, though, we could focus on some decent training. And let’s not forget the training effect and adaptation from all the micro-races. That week we incorporated some of my favourite (cough cough) key sessions which combined intensity and endurance, but all was looking good. Mark, my coach, said to me I was in great form so we were feeling positive for Texas.
 
As such, Texas came around unbelievably quickly (don’t all races do that!?), and we were off. We decided to make it a bit of a flying visit by heading out on the Thursday, racing on the Sunday and flying home on Monday. Who said jet lag was a thing anyway!?
 
A course recce two days out from the race went extremely well. I was having to hold back and was feeling really strong on the bike, enjoying the wall-to-wall sunshine and sea views. If only I wasn’t getting completely freaked out.
 
I am a fairly frequent racer so it wasn’t the race itself which was bothering me – it was the weather forecast. Known for my aversion to bad-weather training and racing, I was more than a little perturbed by the projected storms, gale force winds, heavy rain, lightning, and “the chance of some mild tornadoes”.
 
So ensued two days of constant weather checking, trying to find every weather forecast website imaginable in the hope of a favourable forecast. It wasn’t looking good.
 
I had a panic chat with my coach about the fact that I’d only brought a disc wheel with me. Projected winds of 45kph with gusts of 60kph, even my training in Lanzarote wouldn’t put me in good stead in those conditions, especially on a disc.
 
There were whispers of a race cancellation or course change, so it was all very up in the air until the day before the race, when we attended the briefing in the afternoon for clarification on what was happening.

We were told of a backup plan to change the race to a duathlon if the swim course was unmanageable – the organisers remained pretty elusive about what would happen if the bike course was un-rideable, but they assured us that there was a plan in place to maximise our safety and preserve the integrity of the race. In essence, it was business as usual.
 
I racked anyway hoping my bike wouldn’t blow away overnight, and off we went to have a pre-race dinner and glass of wine to calm the nerves.
 
On race morning the weather looked as expected. Grey, extremely blowy, and a forecast of heavy rain throughout the morning. There was no mention of a swim cancellation and although the water looked a little choppy, I had seen (and indeed swum in) a lot worse!
 
I was in a female age group wave roughly 50 minutes after the pros went off sop after a bit of hanging around, I was making my way off the jetty and into the warm water, ready for go time.
 
The swim was annoyingly slow – not only because of the expected chop but also because we were catching slow swimmers from the previous waves – there seemed to be an awful lot of them, as well, and I’m hardly the fastest swimmer!
 
I was surprised to see a swim time of 35 minutes but it was apparently a slow swim (all of my races seem to be slow swims these days!) and I exited the water 16th in my age group – out of approximately 130.
 
Transition was a novel experience because it was just a ‘kit by your bikes’ policy which is unusual for Ironman races! As such it was a faster transition than normal – no bags, no racks, and no change tents. Just get it done by your bike.
 
Heading out on the bike, I felt pretty good, despite the raging headwind that treated us in the first 10km or so. When we got out onto the coastal road, it turned into a raging sidewind. That was that for the next 70km then.
 
I was surprised by how many people I was passing, and not just gradually overtaking either – I was travelling about twice the speed as a lot of them! I don’t think this is necessarily testament to my cycling ability – more like the calibre of participants at the race combined with a good bike position – plus I saw barely any women with disc wheels, so that will have helped!
 
I was a bit down on where I wanted to be power-wise but pushed on anyway. Amazingly, the wind really wasn’t that bad – it felt like a normal day in Lanzarote so it’s a good job I’m used to cycling there. I didn’t even find the bike twitchy because I had a relatively slim front wheel on – the disc was absolutely fine.
 
Even more amazingly, it didn’t rain! I was extra happy about that.
 
Half way through the bike my power started to drop off a little. I was feeling really thirsty – more than usual during a race, so when I got to an aid station on the return stretch, I just filled my front bottle with water so I could try to satisfy my thirst. I was taking gels in my gel bottle and salt sticks so wasn’t relying exclusively on water, but realised at the end of my bike leg that I’d left my other bottle of energy drink untouched.
 
I was also extremely uncomfortable on the bike – I had chronic lower back pain, which was forcing me to sit up every now and then – not what you want in gale force winds! I couldn’t wait to get off the bike, and make a mental note to book appointments with my chiro, biomechanics coach and get another bike fit! Although I wasn’t quite where I wanted to be, I finished the bike in 2:35 which did equate to my second fastest 70.3 bike split ever.
 
Off the bike and I knew immediately something was wrong. I had already felt something was wrong on the bike as my power was around 15 watts off where it should have been, but as soon as I started running, this hit home like a hammer in the face.
 
It was so bad, in fact, that I seriously contemplated pulling out at 5k because I had no clue how I was going to manage to get round a half marathon. All I wanted to do was lie on the grass – it looked so appealing. My legs just felt like lead, I felt completely sapped of energy.
 
I think, on hindsight, this is what they call ‘bonking’, and incredibly, I’m not sure I’ve experienced this many times.
 
My pace was appalling – it was roughly the same as a long slow chatty run I had completed a week before and around 45 seconds per km off my target run pace! I was grimacing, praying for every kilometre to be over.
 
My thirst was weird – I was grabbing two cups of water at every aid station and downing them – I couldn’t seem to get enough water in me. I had a few gels and they were gradually making me feel marginally better but I knew by then that it was too late, I was a goner. The time slipped by, my target time was lost and I no longer cared – I just needed to get through it. It was no longer a time target, it was just survival.
 
It felt like forever but I finally went down the finish line. Kim, who had won the race, hugged me and I burst into tears, disappointed and upset at my extremely under-par run.
 
I did realise, however, that it was still my second fastest 70.3 time ever – at 5:05. But because I knew I had a much better run than that in me, and all the numbers in training had confirmed it, I was still really disappointed in myself at not having reached my true potential during that race.
 
Over the next day or so, while revelling in Kim’s glory and enjoying all the celebrations, we did also chat through what happened during my race in quite some detail, concluding that I hadn’t taken on enough nutrition on the bike. In fact, I consumed half the volume of carbs that I should have. Coupled with possible dehydration, it just wasn’t happening. I had nothing.
 
I needed to give myself a good talking to to appreciate that it wasn’t as bad as I was making out – I was 8th in my AG out of 130 and something like 22nd non-pro female overall. But I knew I could have done better and that’s what’s frustrating.
 
You have to take the positives and learn from the negatives – in this game, and in the game of life in general, there will always be things that don’t go 100% to plan. I am now making appointments with all those people who can help me reduce the friction in my racing, to help eliminate some of those negatives and make sure I have a more positive race which better reflects my true potential.
 
It’s quite exciting as I am making a few tweaks to my race system – that’s what it’s all about I guess, constant refinement: even when you’re at the very top of the game. Whether it will make a difference, time will tell…

Robert Twells April 5, 2017

Leave a Comment

Last year I ran the Silverstone Half Marathon and decided it would be a good benchmark race to do every year. So on a rainy day in March, I was heading there again. After getting a PB there last year, it would be interesting to see how much I had improved in a year.
 
I had forgotten how massive the race is – used to racing with around 2,000 or so competitors in 70.3 events, here I was on the start line with around 8,000 or so runners. It was mad! Costumes and all, it reminded me what I like about UK running races – they are so popular and most people are just there to enjoy themselves and get a nice shiny medal at the finish line.
 
I queued up fairly close to the front but steering clear of the super fast looking people, warmed up and ready to see what I had. We were soon enough off and after dodging people for the first kilometre or so, I was settled into a nice pace. Nice, hang on!? This was quite a bit faster than I had been aiming for. But it felt so comfortable, so I decided to go with it.
 
5k in, still feeling mega comfortable.
 
10k in – should I be working harder? Still quite a way to go, let’s see what I’ve got with 5k left and then open it up.
 
12k in, took a second gel, instant stomach cramp. What the hell? I was almost doubled over in pain and nearly slowed to a walk. It felt like a stitch, a real stabbing pain. Weird.
 
It faded slightly but didn’t go away. I learned that if I exhaled completely, emptying my lungs, it disappeared for a few seconds but then came back. So ensued a series of me running a few steps, exhaling all the air out of my lungs then repeating this process over and over again. Every hyperventilated? Yeah, it felt a bit like that.
 
Regulating my breathing was virtually impossible and as such, my heartrate felt like it was probably all over the place too. My pace had slowed – not gradually, but just suddenly, like it fell off a cliff or something – and I just couldn’t get back to where I was. God damn it!
 
Basically, the rest of the run from here on in was just a massive struggle. I was literally hanging on. Not sure whether I would have struggled this much without the weird cramping, but even my legs felt so heavy – I was in a lot of pain to hold onto this pace.
 
Finally, I hit 21k. But I was still going. Apparently the course is long. I went through the finish line (21.4k – amazing how much of a difference that 300m makes!) in 1:38:00 – a PB of nearly 2 minutes.
 
I hate to sound dramatic and/or pathetic but I cried from the sheer pain that I had been in for the past 40 minutes. Then I got over myself.
 
I was hoping to be a little faster, by a few minutes actually – and whether that was realistic or not, it didn’t matter a huge amount as I did what I came to do, and that was to beat my time – you can’t really ask for much more than that.
 
Later on, I found out that I was 33rd woman overall out of 2,400 – this was a massive shock! I wouldn’t exactly classify myself as a runner, or at least certainly not ‘up there’ as a runner. I was pretty happy with that as the year before I was around 72nd female, so a significant year on year improvement, even if we are only talking about a couple of minutes.
 
Irrespective, it was a solid training day and now just with a few weeks out from my next big 70.3 race, I am feeling in good form.
 
It’s only March and I’ve already had PBs in all the races I have competed in – testament to the hard work I’ve put in over the past year and invaluable input from my coach Mark Pearce. Things are shaping up well. Next stop, Texas! Yeeeehaaa!
 
 
 

Robert Twells March 19, 2017

Leave a Comment

I love learning – in whatever form that takes. Something that I've aimed for in the short years I've been involved in triathlon is to learn as much as I can – about myself, about the sport, and about others. One thing I always find interesting is hearing about other people’s (and their coaches’) approaches to training, witnessing the way people act and react in their pursuit of their own goals, and listening to the myriad experiences that people have had along the way.
 
I am of the school of thought that there is no ‘one size fits all’ approach to coaching or training – every athlete has different needs, different genetics, different responses and adaptations, and different areas of focus. I think it’s narrow-visioned to apply the same training principles to countless athletes and expect the same results.
 
Too often I hear of coaches who just ‘beast’ their athletes – providing them with high volume, high (yet unmeasured) intensity, and not enough recovery. As such, these athletes will train tired most of the time, never really capable of hitting their full potential in training or in racing as they are missing that top 5% which makes all the difference.
 
In many ways, these athletes will improve to begin with. Sure, it’s easy enough to just ‘go and do hard sessions’ – any brute can put themselves into the ‘hurt box’ – but it’s not scientific, it’s not individualised, and more importantly, it’s not sustainable.
 
After time, these athletes will inevitably start to plateau because the adaptations on the body are limited, there is insufficient recovery, and if they are training tired and can’t give that extra 5% or 10% in training, they won’t get any adaptation benefit.  What’s more, illness and injury risks are high, and both mentally and physically, the athlete will break down.
 
It’s not as simple as ‘just do more training’ or ‘just train harder’ – that’s ignorant. There are so many factors which come together to make great athletes exceptional, and it really is a perfect science. Except the tricky bit is that’s it’s different science for each and every different individual, because there is not a single formula which works for everyone. The challenge for a coach, then, is to know what does work for each individual and quite often, that’s just established through trial and error.
 
The other important part is recovery. I think we all know this, but how many people actually really respect what recovery really means and how much value it holds in catalysing improvements? The capacity to listen to your own body and recognise the differentiation between it just ‘feeling hard’ and wanting to quite versus feeling genuinely ‘exhausted’ is a learned skill, and one which many people have not yet acquired.
 
Yet it is crucial in any athlete-coach relationship to have a two-way communication – a good coach isn’t someone who just provides ‘training programmes’ – anyone can download those off the internet – a good coach will listen, adapt, measure, monitor, and work with you, constantly tweaking and adapting your programme based on your feedback, data, experiences, and how you generally feel.
 
The other part to over training without a science-backed, intelligently executed training programme, is longevity in the sport.
 
If you are constantly battering yourself, you are tired for every session. If you are tired for every session, you won’t be hitting your target numbers or reaching your full potential. If you are not reaching your full potential, you will feel demotivated and deflated. If you feel demotivated, you won’t enjoy training. If you don’t enjoy training, you won’t be doing it for very long.
 
It’s a simplistic view, but it holds some truth. There is only so much your mind and body can take if you are only ever battering yourself in training – and if it isn’t injury or illness that inhibits you, it will be your mind. Which one will give up first?
 
If you want longevity in the sport, you need balance. Balanced training programmes which combine easier sessions and harder sessions to maximise the benefit of both aerobic and anaerobic training, which incorporate sufficient rest and recovery, nutrition which is right for YOU, and strength and conditioning to prevent injury. Furthermore, a balanced mentality towards the sport.
 
Another thing I often see, which is not unusual given the type-A person that is stereotypically attracted to this sport, is obsessive-compulsive behaviour. Yes, we are all prone to triathlon taking over our lives, some more than others, and it can be an all-consuming thing (I won’t claim that I am an exception here). However, there is a fine balance between becoming ‘over-focused’ (yes, that is a thing) and retaining a sense of proportion while still being the best you can be.
 
Again, it comes down to a sustainability issue. It’s not sustainable to deny yourself something in the pursuit of greatness – completely cutting out food groups, alcohol, chocolate, or a social life – whatever your ‘vice’ is – only lasts for a period of time before it makes you unhappy. And here, I revert back to the point previously iterated – unhappiness doesn’t lend itself to longevity in the sport.
 
Realistically, happier people who can have fun (still applicable even if you’re at the very top of your game), relax from time to time, have the odd beer or glass of wine and realising it won’t undo years of training, realising that there is in fact ‘life outside of triathlon’, will probably spend longer in the sport – and might even be more successful – than those who take themselves too seriously and let triathlon rule them rather than the other way round.
 
Sadly, I think the 'slave' approach ruins many people's potential. Although I may have not had many years in the sport, I have learned as much as I can through my own and other people’s experiences, and am frequently reviewing and checking in on how it is working for me, what’s not working, and what I can do differently. But most of all, I make sure that what I'm doing makes me happy.
 
Self-awareness really is the key thing here, and I think it can get you far – both in sport and in life.

Robert Twells March 4, 2017

Leave a Comment

 
The first race of the year is always an unknown. You’ve been training hard all winter and until you race, you don’t really know where you’re at.
 
Last year, I raced Ironman South Africa 70.3 in less than optimal condition – I went into the race feeling very unprepared due to a number of setbacks. In spite of this, I had an OK result, but I was definitely nowhere near my full potential.
 
This year was different. Rather than having had two months with my new coach, I’d had a year and two months. I’d had a PB in every discipline in 2016. I’d managed a whole winter without illness. I’d been putting a lot of hard work in, and it was time to see what I could do.
 
When my coach Mark said to me just after the 70.3 World Championships in September, right at the end of my season: “I wouldn’t be surprised if by January you’re not the same as, if not in better shape, than you are now”, I almost couldn’t fathom it. In January?! No one is in great form in January. It filled me with fear, excitement, and a little bit of disbelief.
 
Over winter, and Christmas, I worked hard. After just two weeks completely off training at the end of the year, my end of season break went quickly and it was straight back into the meaty stuff. I managed to get a decent bit of endurance in during a 10-day stint in Lanzarote but other than that, it was all about the quality work.
 
Remember when coaches recommend that it’s all about “winter miles”? Yeah, it’s not. I didn’t do that many. As we all know, I hate cold, wet weather, so my solution is simply not to train in it. Let’s just say that I became very familiar with my turbo and Netflix.
 
I went to spend a day with Mark in Loughborough in early Jan to find out how we were getting on. I couldn’t contain the beam on my face when he said my swim was almost spot on, and that I looked like “a completely different swimmer” to the last time Mark had seen me swim in June. The bike was similarly feeling good, and he wasn’t even concerned about my run. Positive stuff.
 
After feeling a bit demotivated over the Christmas period due to pretty intense work commitments and lack of rest days, we tweaked the programme a bit. Ramping the training back up a bit, we incorporated more rest days to factor in more downtime from training when work gets tough. It sounds hyperbolic, but this seemed like the magic formula. With the newly incorporated rest, I had a better work-training balance, which meant I was less stressed, more rested, and more motivated. Every single session was spot on.
 
I almost couldn’t believe how good I felt – I wasn’t just hitting the numbers that Mark had set me (power on the bike and pace on the run) – I was surpassing them. When my training plan said 15 minutes at 80% FTP at the end of a 2 hour threshold interval turbo session, and I felt so good that I DOUBLED it AND increased the target power by 20 watts, you know you’re onto a good thing.
 
The same thing was happening on the run. I genuinely felt like I was in better shape than I was for the World Champs in September, which is saying a lot for January – it was the off-season, after all.
 
Then, in our pre-race chat, Mark said the way I was going, I could go under five hours. This was ridiculously exciting – I had been dreaming of this for the past two years – it was a huge goal and a massive milestone to reach. I was beyond excited, but didn’t want to get my hopes up too much. Just do the best I can. “It’s all about the process”, Mark reminded me.
 
The race seemed to just appear out of nowhere, and I was suddenly celebrating my birthday with the looming disbelief of having a race in just four days’ time. I arrived in the very early hours of Wednesday morning after having shared (inadvertently) a taxi with Tyler Butterfield (who was an absolutely top guy and came fourth in the race) from Dubai airport.
 
From that moment on, I seemed to struggle with sleep. The seemingly insignificant four hour time difference was affecting me – as I lay awake at 11pm, it turned into 12, 1am (and it still felt like 9pm) – I counted down the hours with a mix of exasperation and boredom, worrying about how this might affect my race.
 
I felt ok during the day so just got on with all the usual pre-race prep. Swim went well, bike went well (for the whole 20 minutes I managed to do before giving up in favour of retaining my life – the Dubai traffic was a little too heart-flutteringly dangerous to justify), and a final run was bang on target. In spite of everything, I knew I was in a good place.
 
Two more nights of just four and five hours sleep and it was race day. How the hell did that happen? I felt like a zombie. Mechanically, I went through all the pre-race routine. I arrived at transition nice and early. Everything was prepped and planned. Nutrition sorted. Until I realised that I’d left my bike Garmin at the hotel. Ok, still time to go back, get it, and come back to transition before it closed.
 
When I got back to my room, though, I realised that I’d left it on all night, which meant it was low on battery. Ok, plan B. I charged it, wrapped it in a plastic bag, shoved it in my trisuit pocket, and put my wetsuit on, hoping for the best after googling “how waterproof are Garmin bike computers” and reaching the conclusion of “not very” – apparently they are not designed to be completely submerged in water for prolonged periods of time. Oh, and it was sea water.
 
Nothing to lose, surely. Apart from a Garmin.
 
I headed down to the start, missed the swim practice due to googling priorities, and lined up on the start.
 
Off we went. I realised immediately that I hadn’t positioned myself very well and was too wide. Well at least I wasn’t getting battered by arms, I consoled myself. The water was calm after a few days of some chop – great news. I was feeling good, thinking I was onto a good time as I was passing a lot of people (or so it seemed). As I exited the water, though, I was disappointed to see my time of 33 minutes. I felt like my swim had improved to justify a much better time than that. I later found out even the pros were a few minutes slower so perhaps it’s a slightly slow or long course. Oh well.
 
Into T1 and out on the bike. After about 20 minutes I was hurting. Oh jesus christ. This is NOT boding well. I was going to have to endure hours of this – surely I couldn’t hold on? I knew what power I was aiming to hold and what speed I needed to average if I wanted a decent bike time. We had aimed for around 2:30 but I had anticipated a more realistic 2:35.
 
There was a bit of a headwind on the way out which meant I had to dig pretty deep. I got caught up in a massive group of guys with bikes in front and behind me – I had nowhere to go. Suddenly a race referee on a moped appeared from nowhere and waved a yellow card. Hang on – who the hell was that for?! I looked at her, thinking she’d shout someone’s number or confirm as they drew level with her, but the moped sped off.
 
I was now left wondering if it was me or someone else – it had been so ambiguous. Surely they realise the narrowness of the course is leading to bunches of cyclists though?! Ridiculous lack of targeted penalisation there!
 
After the turnaround point, the wind was finally behind us. Oh yes, you beauty. As I pedalled on, I even ran out of gears, sometimes going over 50kph on the flat. This felt so good, and it spurred me on even more. I realised at one point that no female had passed me on the bike at all. Oh wow, maybe I was having a great race after all.
 
About three quarters of the way through the bike I realised I was on for a sub-2:30 bike split if I could hold the target power and average speed. I was flying, I had never felt this good on a bike.
 
I was simultaneously too excited about getting a sub-2:30 bike split – a bike time I certainly didn’t think was feasible!
 
I went into T2 and as I came out, two gels accidentally slipped out of my pocket. Too late now – I carried on running. After about eight minutes I knew I was in trouble. My stomach hurt already (unusual for me) and I was struggling to hold my target pace. Come on, come on, come on!
 
After two gels and around the half way mark, I realised I couldn’t take on any more gels as it was making my stomach cramp and I was feeling sick. Not good. I pushed on, my pace slipping all the time, but it got to a point where I was absolutely determined to hold onto it in order to have a half respectable half marathon time.
 
The lack of sleep, lack of energy, and lack of heat induced a few Johnny Brownlee moments – I genuinely felt dizzy and had to concentrate on not losing it – “must stay focused and in control.”
 
For what felt like an eternity, I ran on until that blissful finish chute came into sight. I sprinted (or what felt like a sprint at this stage) and I heard the familiar, encouraging sound of Paul Kaye’s voice as I ran through the finish line. THANK. GOD.
 
I had done it. I had finished in 4 hours and 54 minutes – not only had I broken the five hour barrier but I had smashed it. I thought I’d feel incredibly emotional – instead, I didn’t feel an awful lot. I just felt sick.
 
A friend who had also raced tried to talk to me but I could barely reply as I felt so sick. Gradually, it eased off and I went to soothe my legs in the ice bath (paddling pool). Still no real elation. How weird.
 
I wandered back to my hotel and called my family. I’d had no idea, but apparently I had come 4th in my age group and was 13th non-professional female overall. Wow. This was by far my strongest result ever. I’m not sure it had even sunk in.
 
Later on I was informed that my result had been classified as DQ, which was massively deflating after getting a huge 14 minute PB – I was pretty hacked off at the whole unfairness of the situation and went to appeal. After lots of “we can’t do anything” on the day and evening of the race, I formally appealed by email on my return home.
 
They admitted there had been huge problems with the course and with the officials on the day (er yeah, 67 DQ when most races log 1 or 2 definitely indicates an organiser problem rather than an athlete problem!) and promised to resolve them for next year.
 
They reviewed my case and reinstated my result. Thankfully!
 
I think how hard I have worked to go from a 7:28 (yes, really) half ironman time back in 2012, to get a 4:54 in 2017. I have said it before – I am not gifted with natural talent – every bit of everything I have achieved has been down to true hard grit and relentless commitment. Getting the acclaimed 'sub-5' (for age groupers at least!) has been a dream goal of mine for two years now. And finally, finally, I got there.
 
I’m really proud of this result for what was only January. I had the highest average power output I’ve ever achieved during a race and I was only 10 minutes off some of the pro women bike splits. Although my run was disappointing, realistically it was only 3 minutes off my best ever half iron run time, so I can't really complain. None of this is coincidence – it has been down to sheer hard work (and probably many, many grim hours on the turbo!).
 
On top of this, I’ve just received an email inviting me to the 2017 Ironman 70.3 World Championships in Chattanooga this year, as a result of being one of the top performing athletes in my age group in the world. After initially thinking I wouldn’t go, I have convinced myself that it’s an awesome opportunity, and to go to the 70.3 World Champs for three years running is pretty cool. So, I’m doing just that.
 
It’s the start of another exciting season and I can’t wait to see what happens! A-race here we come!

Robert Twells February 9, 2017

Leave a Comment