IM Nice vu par un Anglais...
Publié : 30 juin 2005, 12:12
Desolee de revenir encore une fois sur l'Ironman de Nice (je sais qu'il y a deja bon nombre de posts la-dessus), mais je viens de tomber sur le rapport d'un triathlete anglais et je pense vraiment que ca vaut le coup d'oeil !
Ce rapport a ete poste sur un forum de triathlon anglais (la version anglaise d'Onlinetri quoi !
).
Certes, c'est long, et c'est en anglais, je vous l'accorde, mais ca vaut vraiment le coup de passer 20min a le lire... J'ai eu l'impression de vivre la course a travers ses yeux. Vraiment magnifique et tres emouvant !
Apres ca, tout ceux qui hesitaient a faire un Ironman n'hesiteront plus tres longtemps !
Passion du tri quand tu nous tient !!
Bonne lecture.....
IRONMAN FRANCE 19/6/05
16th June
We’re here in Nice. Leaving the house at 0400 to catch the flight was uncomfortable. Anne not too pleased with my half asleep driving to the airport. Played spot the Ironman at the airport – several obvious bike boxes were being checked in.
It’s hot in Nice. Well, it feels hot to a resident of sub-Artic Scotland, where if it’s not snowing it must be Summer. I’d guess it’s around 28degrees and forecast to get warmer during the weekend. There are IM posters everywhere, at the airport, and all over the city. The first nerves begin, this suddenly seems real and it’s a big deal.
Register at ‘IronMan City’, perhaps a slight over-exaggeration, but an impressive set-up none the less. Big grandstand, loads of marquees, lots of smiley volunteer helpers.
I’ve come a long way to get here, and now it’s very real. I’m carrying a bag with start numbers in, and I have my competitor wrist band on. It’s going to be hard to turn round now.
I’m not a triathlete, let’s get that straight. I’m not really sure how I got here. I’ve been at the fringes of the Adventure Racing scene for a couple of years, and fancied another challenge this year. I’d done a couple of Olympic-distance Tri’s last year and enjoyed them. I’d heard of Ironman, it’s a very iconic race, but had no experience of it, and knew no-one who’d attempted, let alone completed one.
In a fit of enthusiasm I entered in Autumn 2004, and then worried about it over Xmas. I consulted various training manuals and drew up a plan. 24 weeks, 280 training hours, many early mornings, and lots of cold, wet, dark nights on the streets of Scotland later, here I am. Managed to avoid any injuries (miraculous) except a broken thumb from getting clobbered whilst playing shinty. There were a number of ups and downs though – motivation was a problem at times. I just focused on what needed to be done. The scale of the race kept me going, through terror if nothing else. I aimed for 3 sessions in each sport per week, one of which was long. I tried to keep playing Hockey and Shinty for as long as possible. Above all, I had to keep it fun, so the Hashing and Mountain Biking stayed in the schedule too.
I learnt to swim in January – it sounds shocking reading that again, but it’s true. Until that point I splashed around ineffectively and refused to put my face in the water. I’m not as bad now, but still not a great swimmer. However, I’ve discovered that I enjoy swimming. Biking came along reasonably as well. I only ever managed 1 x 100miles ride, mainly due to the weather in Scotland – this is a concern. Running – well, if I’m still running at the end, then great. I’ve never run a marathon on the road, but have done the distance many times on the hills, so what will be will be.
17th June
Out to recce part of the Bike route. Took the hire-car out of Nice (hope I get the hang of this ‘wrong-side-of-the-road’ bit before Sunday) and into the hills. Coffee and Cakes in Gattieres at a bar on the old stone bridge that spans the road I’ll be racing on in a few days. Then on to Le Broc. Anne gets unceremoniously left behind in a bar (she’s not that upset), and I take the bike out for a spin. The course notes suggest that the section between Le Broc and Bouyon contains the toughest hill, so I need to see what I’m letting myself in for. The lunchtime heat (mad dogs and Englishmen etc) is a good incentive to take it nice and easy. It’s not too bad – road surfaces are fine, gradients are not too bad, only out of the saddle a couple of times. I head 15km out, turn and come back again feeling refreshed and reasonably confident.
Also put the gimp-suit (aka Wetsuit) on for a dip in the sea. Feels great to swim in clean, warm, flat-ish water. Last time I swam OW was about a week ago at Portobello – cold, murky, 1m swell, and near the sewage outflow. Met a bunch of guys from South Wales near one of the buoys and chatted for a while. Swam on, and did a couple of km in the end. Felt easy.
18th June
Tried to sit on my arse as much as possible today. Checked the bike into transition. I let the tires down, apparently the heat can cause problems. Also checked in bike and run bags.
There are orange athlete wristbands all over town – every restaurant and café seems to be full of us. Ironman is certainly making an impression on Nice.
Bed at approx 10pm. I feel surprisingly relaxed. I’m nervous about tomorrow, it really is a journey into the unknown for me and I know it will hurt. It will be tough, but then if it was easy, everyone would do it. I’ve got to just trust in my training and willpower now. Worrying about it won’t help.
19th June – RACE DAY!
Alarm goes off at 4am. I managed to sleep most of the night – I’m pleased and surprised. Breakfast first to get a chance to digest it – Malt Loaf, Bananas and Water/Nuun mixture. Yum.
Re-check my Swim bag and again go through the practicals of the race in my head. Also keep on telling myself I have to take it easy. I know this will be hard with adrenalin flowing through my body.
Leave the hotel at 0500 with Anne (she really is long suffering) and head the 1km down to the start. The streets are dark and quiet, the temperature is comfortable. Other orange bands are walking the same way – there’s a feeling that’s a mixture of excitement and ‘dead-man walking’ in the air.
Transition is subdued. I pump the types and re-check my Bike and Run bags. I hand my Bike Special Needs bag in. Suddenly it’s 20 minutes to go. Gimp suit on with difficulty in the humid air. It’s still dark. Dawn rises as I wait on the beach with the 1400 other racers. The sea is flat and inviting.
I’ve positioned myself way to the left, and close to the back as I’m not a strong swimmer. The tension is becoming unbearable, so I’m concentrating on focusing on the race in a cool and collected way, and breathing. Anne meanwhile, is apparently in tears – the tension and concern just a bit too much.
Swim
The gun goes – it takes a minute or so to get my feet wet as we queue to get into the water. The swim start is everything I was promised it would be – absolute chaos, but I love it. I try to avoid the worst of the washing machine by finding gaps and staying wide, but this is hard, there are just so many people competing for the same space. The first loop goes well – I hit a pace I’m comfortable with very quickly, and plod on, taking it nice and easy. I’m therefore very surprised when I came out at the end of the first lap – I look forward and back and reckon I’m in the middle of the field. Bloody Hell!. Second Lap passes quickly and without events I’m glad to say. Out of the water, under the clock 1:15 – well pleased with that. French rules mean that I have to get my wetsuit off and pick up my own bags etc. I get changed out on the side of the street rather than in the tent. When I put suncream on, it runs off immediately due to the sea water streaming off me. This is not good.
Bike
First 30km are flat, I keep telling myself to keep it nice and easy and have some success. I settle into the bike pretty quickly. The first aid station comes and goes. I had no experience of what this would be like, and don’t know what to expect. I watch and learn very quickly!. Dump the empty bottles at the side of road (this never feels right throughout the whole race, it feels like I’m dropping litter!), and pick a bottle or two out of the brilliant volunteers hands as I flash past at 30km/h (I wish!). It all actually goes without problems, although the aid areas are a mess of bikes and people and I have to concentrate hard. The first hill has a sign saying “8km”and an up arrow – oh joy, here we go. It’s fine, but some are struggling already. Perhaps living and training in the hilly Scottish Borders will have some benefits. The km’s flash past, some others go past me, I go past a few. I’m just trying to keep it comfortable. The first descent sees a crashed cyclist being attended to by paramedics – a good wake up call for me to keep taking it easy. Villagers are out in force, and there’s good natured cheering and calls going on all the time. The views are stunning and the road constantly twists. I find this helpful as it keeps my mind occupied and off thinking of the distance.
I learn that the many ‘real’ cyclists out and about, plus the local kids are collecting the disarded bottles, so I start offloading in their direction. This is usually followed by a loud ‘merci monsieur!’. I enjoy this and feel like a pro-cyclist!!!
The draft marshals are everywhere. I concentrate on not drafting – I really do not want a penalty or DSQ after all this.
Special Needs at the halfway point comes and goes, I don’t bother stopping as I always intended traveling fully self-sufficient. Another ascent at 100km into Gattieres, and it’s beginning to hurt, but it’s worth it for the 10km descent on the other side complete with hairpins and stunning views down the Var river to Nice. A 10km flat section along the river on a busy main road – trying to stay down on the aero-bars was painful now. Back up the 8km ascent and it’s downhill from here. Apart from the uphill bit. Make that uphill bits. Last 20km is flat again. There’s some good banter going on with the Brits that are around me on the route. Remember to stretch my calves and other muscles during the last few km. I reach the finish and am amazed at the time. My bike computer says 6:04. An average 30km/h for 180km and 1900m of climb. I’m happy and still feeling as OK as is possible in the circumstances. Dump the bike. I’m surprised at how far down transition I have to go in order to hand the bike over. I’m reasonably well up in the field it seems.
Find my Run bag, also find that my all-important Vaseline is now in liquid form. Spread it on in those ‘sensitive areas’ anyway. Elect to run in a new white top rather than the tried and trusted black one due the heat (must be way over 30deg now). Will this decision come back and bite my bum?.
Run
Immediately, I know this is going to be long. I set off at a plod, and aim to maintain as long as I can. The heat and effort means that I’m very glad to see the first aid station. Stop and walk and take on lots of fluid. Up towards the airport, the turn-round feels a long time coming. There aren’t many spectators up there. I’m surprised that I’m overtaking folk. A lot are walking, some look in a really bad way. The ambulances are busy, and continue to have an active day. The first lap passes in a ‘walk the stations, plod the rest’ style. I see Anne at the end of the lap and stop for a chat and hug. My quads are very stiff now. Halfway through the second lap I elect to walk. I figure that I just need to be patient. If I push too hard, there’s a good chance that I’ll cramp badly – that might affect my ability to finish. I will make the finish if I pace myself, and I’m not so proud that I can’t walk!. Laps 2 and 3 therefore pass with a mix of walk/run. I see Anne at the end and beginning of each lap. This helps enormously – it’s a motivation to keep moving. The large crowds at the finish end of the course have a similar effect. It rains on Lap 3, and the lightning and thunder crash around for a while. It actually feels like welcome relief. I do find I’m cooling down a lot, and hope this isn’t some effect of de-hydration or heatstroke.
I resolve on lap 4 to push harder, and manage to run 2/3rds or so. I find it hurts less to run faster!. Different muscle groups I guess. I’m overtaking folk again.
The final couple of km’s pass quickly – I don’t really remember them, I’m just focused on the finish line now. I pass in front of the grandstand once, there’s a lot of noise. I turn the corner, and see the finish line. A large lump grows in my throat – it’s been threatening for a while. I’m going to do this. It’s all I can do to hold back the tears as a run the final 100m and cross the line.
I finish in 12:34. Way under what I was anticipating. I would have been happy to finish before the cut off, but secretly, I was hoping for 14hours.
I feel surprisingly good. I can still walk, and I appear to still be able to function, albeit at a lower lever than normal!. I collect my medal. I’m not normally into these things, but this time, I’ve earnt the right to wear it with pride.
Anne has a cold beer waiting for me as promised. But I can’t drink it yet, my body just doesn’t want it. We hang around for a while and then go to eat. I fumble with food – my stomach hasn’t settled properly (and in fact doesn’t for several days). I do drink a beer with the mean though (rude not to in a restaurant with 2 whole pages of fabulous bottled Belgian and German beers). We go back to the grandstand to watch the final hour of the race.
These guys coming in close to the end are incredible. You can see the pain and determination in their faces. Again, I have to stifle tears as I watch their success. It’s particularly emotional to watch the Fathers crossing the line with their kids in arms on this, Father’s Day. Phew.
That’s it, it’s done now. Not sure I’ll do another. The training just wasn’t fair on Anne or others around me. Not sure what the future holds, or what 2006’s challenge will be. Watch this space.
Ce rapport a ete poste sur un forum de triathlon anglais (la version anglaise d'Onlinetri quoi !
).Certes, c'est long, et c'est en anglais, je vous l'accorde, mais ca vaut vraiment le coup de passer 20min a le lire... J'ai eu l'impression de vivre la course a travers ses yeux. Vraiment magnifique et tres emouvant !
Apres ca, tout ceux qui hesitaient a faire un Ironman n'hesiteront plus tres longtemps !
Passion du tri quand tu nous tient !!Bonne lecture.....
IRONMAN FRANCE 19/6/05
16th June
We’re here in Nice. Leaving the house at 0400 to catch the flight was uncomfortable. Anne not too pleased with my half asleep driving to the airport. Played spot the Ironman at the airport – several obvious bike boxes were being checked in.
It’s hot in Nice. Well, it feels hot to a resident of sub-Artic Scotland, where if it’s not snowing it must be Summer. I’d guess it’s around 28degrees and forecast to get warmer during the weekend. There are IM posters everywhere, at the airport, and all over the city. The first nerves begin, this suddenly seems real and it’s a big deal.
Register at ‘IronMan City’, perhaps a slight over-exaggeration, but an impressive set-up none the less. Big grandstand, loads of marquees, lots of smiley volunteer helpers.
I’ve come a long way to get here, and now it’s very real. I’m carrying a bag with start numbers in, and I have my competitor wrist band on. It’s going to be hard to turn round now.
I’m not a triathlete, let’s get that straight. I’m not really sure how I got here. I’ve been at the fringes of the Adventure Racing scene for a couple of years, and fancied another challenge this year. I’d done a couple of Olympic-distance Tri’s last year and enjoyed them. I’d heard of Ironman, it’s a very iconic race, but had no experience of it, and knew no-one who’d attempted, let alone completed one.
In a fit of enthusiasm I entered in Autumn 2004, and then worried about it over Xmas. I consulted various training manuals and drew up a plan. 24 weeks, 280 training hours, many early mornings, and lots of cold, wet, dark nights on the streets of Scotland later, here I am. Managed to avoid any injuries (miraculous) except a broken thumb from getting clobbered whilst playing shinty. There were a number of ups and downs though – motivation was a problem at times. I just focused on what needed to be done. The scale of the race kept me going, through terror if nothing else. I aimed for 3 sessions in each sport per week, one of which was long. I tried to keep playing Hockey and Shinty for as long as possible. Above all, I had to keep it fun, so the Hashing and Mountain Biking stayed in the schedule too.
I learnt to swim in January – it sounds shocking reading that again, but it’s true. Until that point I splashed around ineffectively and refused to put my face in the water. I’m not as bad now, but still not a great swimmer. However, I’ve discovered that I enjoy swimming. Biking came along reasonably as well. I only ever managed 1 x 100miles ride, mainly due to the weather in Scotland – this is a concern. Running – well, if I’m still running at the end, then great. I’ve never run a marathon on the road, but have done the distance many times on the hills, so what will be will be.
17th June
Out to recce part of the Bike route. Took the hire-car out of Nice (hope I get the hang of this ‘wrong-side-of-the-road’ bit before Sunday) and into the hills. Coffee and Cakes in Gattieres at a bar on the old stone bridge that spans the road I’ll be racing on in a few days. Then on to Le Broc. Anne gets unceremoniously left behind in a bar (she’s not that upset), and I take the bike out for a spin. The course notes suggest that the section between Le Broc and Bouyon contains the toughest hill, so I need to see what I’m letting myself in for. The lunchtime heat (mad dogs and Englishmen etc) is a good incentive to take it nice and easy. It’s not too bad – road surfaces are fine, gradients are not too bad, only out of the saddle a couple of times. I head 15km out, turn and come back again feeling refreshed and reasonably confident.
Also put the gimp-suit (aka Wetsuit) on for a dip in the sea. Feels great to swim in clean, warm, flat-ish water. Last time I swam OW was about a week ago at Portobello – cold, murky, 1m swell, and near the sewage outflow. Met a bunch of guys from South Wales near one of the buoys and chatted for a while. Swam on, and did a couple of km in the end. Felt easy.
18th June
Tried to sit on my arse as much as possible today. Checked the bike into transition. I let the tires down, apparently the heat can cause problems. Also checked in bike and run bags.
There are orange athlete wristbands all over town – every restaurant and café seems to be full of us. Ironman is certainly making an impression on Nice.
Bed at approx 10pm. I feel surprisingly relaxed. I’m nervous about tomorrow, it really is a journey into the unknown for me and I know it will hurt. It will be tough, but then if it was easy, everyone would do it. I’ve got to just trust in my training and willpower now. Worrying about it won’t help.
19th June – RACE DAY!
Alarm goes off at 4am. I managed to sleep most of the night – I’m pleased and surprised. Breakfast first to get a chance to digest it – Malt Loaf, Bananas and Water/Nuun mixture. Yum.
Re-check my Swim bag and again go through the practicals of the race in my head. Also keep on telling myself I have to take it easy. I know this will be hard with adrenalin flowing through my body.
Leave the hotel at 0500 with Anne (she really is long suffering) and head the 1km down to the start. The streets are dark and quiet, the temperature is comfortable. Other orange bands are walking the same way – there’s a feeling that’s a mixture of excitement and ‘dead-man walking’ in the air.
Transition is subdued. I pump the types and re-check my Bike and Run bags. I hand my Bike Special Needs bag in. Suddenly it’s 20 minutes to go. Gimp suit on with difficulty in the humid air. It’s still dark. Dawn rises as I wait on the beach with the 1400 other racers. The sea is flat and inviting.
I’ve positioned myself way to the left, and close to the back as I’m not a strong swimmer. The tension is becoming unbearable, so I’m concentrating on focusing on the race in a cool and collected way, and breathing. Anne meanwhile, is apparently in tears – the tension and concern just a bit too much.
Swim
The gun goes – it takes a minute or so to get my feet wet as we queue to get into the water. The swim start is everything I was promised it would be – absolute chaos, but I love it. I try to avoid the worst of the washing machine by finding gaps and staying wide, but this is hard, there are just so many people competing for the same space. The first loop goes well – I hit a pace I’m comfortable with very quickly, and plod on, taking it nice and easy. I’m therefore very surprised when I came out at the end of the first lap – I look forward and back and reckon I’m in the middle of the field. Bloody Hell!. Second Lap passes quickly and without events I’m glad to say. Out of the water, under the clock 1:15 – well pleased with that. French rules mean that I have to get my wetsuit off and pick up my own bags etc. I get changed out on the side of the street rather than in the tent. When I put suncream on, it runs off immediately due to the sea water streaming off me. This is not good.
Bike
First 30km are flat, I keep telling myself to keep it nice and easy and have some success. I settle into the bike pretty quickly. The first aid station comes and goes. I had no experience of what this would be like, and don’t know what to expect. I watch and learn very quickly!. Dump the empty bottles at the side of road (this never feels right throughout the whole race, it feels like I’m dropping litter!), and pick a bottle or two out of the brilliant volunteers hands as I flash past at 30km/h (I wish!). It all actually goes without problems, although the aid areas are a mess of bikes and people and I have to concentrate hard. The first hill has a sign saying “8km”and an up arrow – oh joy, here we go. It’s fine, but some are struggling already. Perhaps living and training in the hilly Scottish Borders will have some benefits. The km’s flash past, some others go past me, I go past a few. I’m just trying to keep it comfortable. The first descent sees a crashed cyclist being attended to by paramedics – a good wake up call for me to keep taking it easy. Villagers are out in force, and there’s good natured cheering and calls going on all the time. The views are stunning and the road constantly twists. I find this helpful as it keeps my mind occupied and off thinking of the distance.
I learn that the many ‘real’ cyclists out and about, plus the local kids are collecting the disarded bottles, so I start offloading in their direction. This is usually followed by a loud ‘merci monsieur!’. I enjoy this and feel like a pro-cyclist!!!
The draft marshals are everywhere. I concentrate on not drafting – I really do not want a penalty or DSQ after all this.
Special Needs at the halfway point comes and goes, I don’t bother stopping as I always intended traveling fully self-sufficient. Another ascent at 100km into Gattieres, and it’s beginning to hurt, but it’s worth it for the 10km descent on the other side complete with hairpins and stunning views down the Var river to Nice. A 10km flat section along the river on a busy main road – trying to stay down on the aero-bars was painful now. Back up the 8km ascent and it’s downhill from here. Apart from the uphill bit. Make that uphill bits. Last 20km is flat again. There’s some good banter going on with the Brits that are around me on the route. Remember to stretch my calves and other muscles during the last few km. I reach the finish and am amazed at the time. My bike computer says 6:04. An average 30km/h for 180km and 1900m of climb. I’m happy and still feeling as OK as is possible in the circumstances. Dump the bike. I’m surprised at how far down transition I have to go in order to hand the bike over. I’m reasonably well up in the field it seems.
Find my Run bag, also find that my all-important Vaseline is now in liquid form. Spread it on in those ‘sensitive areas’ anyway. Elect to run in a new white top rather than the tried and trusted black one due the heat (must be way over 30deg now). Will this decision come back and bite my bum?.
Run
Immediately, I know this is going to be long. I set off at a plod, and aim to maintain as long as I can. The heat and effort means that I’m very glad to see the first aid station. Stop and walk and take on lots of fluid. Up towards the airport, the turn-round feels a long time coming. There aren’t many spectators up there. I’m surprised that I’m overtaking folk. A lot are walking, some look in a really bad way. The ambulances are busy, and continue to have an active day. The first lap passes in a ‘walk the stations, plod the rest’ style. I see Anne at the end of the lap and stop for a chat and hug. My quads are very stiff now. Halfway through the second lap I elect to walk. I figure that I just need to be patient. If I push too hard, there’s a good chance that I’ll cramp badly – that might affect my ability to finish. I will make the finish if I pace myself, and I’m not so proud that I can’t walk!. Laps 2 and 3 therefore pass with a mix of walk/run. I see Anne at the end and beginning of each lap. This helps enormously – it’s a motivation to keep moving. The large crowds at the finish end of the course have a similar effect. It rains on Lap 3, and the lightning and thunder crash around for a while. It actually feels like welcome relief. I do find I’m cooling down a lot, and hope this isn’t some effect of de-hydration or heatstroke.
I resolve on lap 4 to push harder, and manage to run 2/3rds or so. I find it hurts less to run faster!. Different muscle groups I guess. I’m overtaking folk again.
The final couple of km’s pass quickly – I don’t really remember them, I’m just focused on the finish line now. I pass in front of the grandstand once, there’s a lot of noise. I turn the corner, and see the finish line. A large lump grows in my throat – it’s been threatening for a while. I’m going to do this. It’s all I can do to hold back the tears as a run the final 100m and cross the line.
I finish in 12:34. Way under what I was anticipating. I would have been happy to finish before the cut off, but secretly, I was hoping for 14hours.
I feel surprisingly good. I can still walk, and I appear to still be able to function, albeit at a lower lever than normal!. I collect my medal. I’m not normally into these things, but this time, I’ve earnt the right to wear it with pride.
Anne has a cold beer waiting for me as promised. But I can’t drink it yet, my body just doesn’t want it. We hang around for a while and then go to eat. I fumble with food – my stomach hasn’t settled properly (and in fact doesn’t for several days). I do drink a beer with the mean though (rude not to in a restaurant with 2 whole pages of fabulous bottled Belgian and German beers). We go back to the grandstand to watch the final hour of the race.
These guys coming in close to the end are incredible. You can see the pain and determination in their faces. Again, I have to stifle tears as I watch their success. It’s particularly emotional to watch the Fathers crossing the line with their kids in arms on this, Father’s Day. Phew.
That’s it, it’s done now. Not sure I’ll do another. The training just wasn’t fair on Anne or others around me. Not sure what the future holds, or what 2006’s challenge will be. Watch this space.
, enfin Thierry, je te laisse maitre de la situation !