First Time Ironman – The Ten Hardest Things…

By Peter Hinrichsen, June 2012

As my training load increased towards 20 hours per week, and I became more tired, less fun to be with, and less use around the house, my partner Sharon would say: “This is all about you. Do whatever you need to do to get the result you want.” This was incredibly generous of Sharon and meant I was as well prepared for race day as I could possibly be, however she was wrong. It was not all about me…..

Introduction

On Sunday 6th May 2012 at 6.23pm (plus some seconds) I came to the end of a year-long journey by completing my first Ironman triathlon at Port Macquarie.
Below is my list of the ten hardest things about completing my first Ironman. Perhaps you will come across some of the same ‘hard things’ in your journey to Ironman. The details that follow I hope they will help you complete your Ironman Journey……

#1. Making the commitment

For me, there were three stages I had to pass before signing up for my first Ironman:
The first stage was denial. I first heard about the Ironman when a friend saw a Kona race on TV and announced “That looks impossible so I will give it a go.” The friend was Andrew, a mate from my ocean racing days. Back then we were accustom to doing the impossible having nursed an old wooden boat through two Sydney to Hobart yacht races on a shoe string budget. Andrew was at a loose end and looking for his next challenge. The IM fitted the bill nicely. I knew Andrew as a hard, determined individual but thought even he could not conquer 3.8/180/42.
The second stage was acceptance. As I learnt more a about the race, and the training, I accepted that perhaps it was possible, but only for elite and driven individuals.
The third stage was ‘I want to do one of those’. But first I had to get work stable, the kids in secondary school and a few other housekeeping chores out of the way.
Once I had decided I wanted to do an Ironman, there were only two things remaining: to enter a race; and to tell my friends and family. Telling friends and family was the tough bit as this was making a public commitment that I would be doing something really, really hard. Along with this came the usual self-doubts that go with the risk of bombing out on such a mammoth commitment. (My get out of jail card was the IM time limit. I went public with the fact I was going to complete an IM, not that I wanted to complete it in less than 13 hours – I kept that bit to myself for another couple of months.)
Hard thing #1: Making the commitment then going public.

#2. The training

The training is hard work but you build into it so it does not come as such a shock. I have always been a morning person so getting to the pool, track or to bike start by six, or even five thirty was not such a hardship. As my training load increased to two, then three sessions a day, what became hard was managing tiredness.
The peak weeks were manageable as I scheduled fewer work and social commitments during the weeks of twenty hours training load. My body was always a couple of weeks behind the schedule in its ability to cope. I never nodded off in any meetings at work, but came close on a couple of occasions. I did fall asleep at my desk once and almost took my eye out as my head hit the desk!
On training mornings, my partner Sharon would wake at five with me and train. Sharon would not do the lunchtime or evening sessions but would have dinner on the table at 8.45pm when I got home. She was very tolerant of my regular announcement after dinner “I will just have a quick nap on the couch before doing the dishes”. To train for an Ironman, you either need to be single, or have the total support of your partner and family. They will be carrying the extra load during the period when you are in a daze as you gradually increasing training load. Hence…
Hard thing #2: Getting the buy-in from your partner & family.

#3. Disapproval from family

I have two boys aged ten and twelve who live with me fifty percent of the time, and with their mother fifty percent of the time. I managed to fit my training around their sporting commitments and my other parenting duties. For example, when Robert went to footie training, I would run. When both boys went to swim squad, I would swim. On the weekends the boys were with me, I would do my long run from five to eight in the morning and be home as they were waking.  I would also modify my long ride to be back for breakfast. On weekends when the boys were with their mother, I would train with the squad. My point is that of the key stakeholders in my ironman training, my children hardly knew I was training and as I described in the earlier section, my partner Sharon had no limit to her supportive.
This did not stop my mother and sister both announcing about the same time (the timing was a coincidence) that I was training too hard, neglecting my family obligations and being selfish. (OK, I did forget a niece’s birthday and did start avoiding helping my mum with some chores around her house.) When this revelation was made, I was rapidly ramping up my training, was very tired and the most vulnerable to this sort of criticism. This was difficult as I asked myself ‘were they right’? Was I stupid thinking I could fit Ironman training around all my other responsibilities? Should I reassess my goal? While this reflection was going on, my mojo took a hammering and my training suffered.
After a couple of days of feeling sorry for myself, I ran the problem by my seven times IM finisher friend, Andrew who said “Good, that’s the confirmation you need mid campaign that you have got your training load about right.” The key stake holders in my IM training (my children and my partner) were either hardly impacted or very supportive. The two unsupportive voices came from the periphery of my life. Their views needed to be heard but discarded so the training could continue. This brings me to….
Hard thing #3: Listening to, but disregarding disapproval from well-meaning friends & family.

#4. Understanding why I was doing an Ironman

At a goal setting workshop held at the Tri Alliance office and run by Dane Barclay from Performance Sports Psychology, the question was posed “why are you doing this?”
This is not a frivolous question and deserves some serious consideration and deep thought if you are to get the most from your Ironman Journey. For me, there were two categories of answer: “because it’s fun” and “because I’ve got something to prove”.
The “because it’s fun” answers were easy to identify and discuss with my colleagues. “I like being fit”, “I like the company of fit, motivated people” and “I like the feeling I get when I swim, ride or run” are some of my “because it’s fun” reasons. My kids are at secondary school, my work is under control and “now it’ time to do something for me” is another.
The “I’ve got something to prove” answers were quite a bit more confronting to think through – And I’m still not sure I have reached the real reason of why I signed up for my first Ironman. “I like to challenge myself” and “I like to test myself” were two of my early answers. The obvious follow up question is “Why do I like to challenge myself?” (incidentally, the answer “I just do” does not cut it here.) What is it I’m trying to prove, and to whom?
The day after my Port Mac race, I was standing in the queue to pay for some IM merchandise when I struck up a conversation with Johno, who finished in my age-group in a touch over eleven hours. One of the first things he said was “I wish I could find that sports teacher who told me when I was in year eight that I would never be any good at sport”.  This struck me as an important moment. Someone I had never met, aged 49, was talking about his Ironman achievements in the context of his years at primary school.
Perhaps I’m driven by the same force as Johno as I was also lousy at school spot. I missed the accolades that were showered on the kids who were so perhaps the true reason I wanted to do an Ironman is hidden somewhere in my childhood. I will let you know when I work it out.
There is another reason. My best friendships are formed with people who share a common interest. In years gone by it has been bushwalking, ocean racing and now Ironman. There is a naked honesty in the conversations you have after running 30km or riding 200km that you don’t get in a pub over a beer. The stress of the training makes for closer friendships.
Why did I want to do an Ironman? For the time being, I will settle on “I like the feeling of being fit” and “I like the company of fit, motivated people”. Therefore…}
Hard thing #4: Understanding (and accepting) the true reason why you want to do an Ironman.

#5. Setting a realistic goal

There is a fine line between the emotions of modesty & uncertainty, and confidence & arrogance. When I entered my first IM twelve months ago, I set myself the goal of finishing within 12:55. I told myself this goal was based on the rough times I had completed swims, rides & runs of similar distances.  Thinking it through now, I know I set this goal so I would not fail. Uncertainty had dominated over modesty.
When I started my IM training, I had completed a single season of Gatorade sprint races, and a single long course race (at Torquay). I had a lifetime of bike & run experience, although at the bottom end of the amateur scale and a couple of years of open water swim experience. In short, I was pretty new to triathlon.
With mastery comes confidence so as my IM training progressed and I became more confident in my ability to pace myself over 12+ hours of competing so I started to reassess my goals. In the race plan I wrote myself a week before Port Mac, I wrote:

Realistic goal: To finish within 12 hours.
Based on my Portarlington times, scaled up and multiplied by a factor of 1.13, this goal is within reach.
Based on conservative times clocked during training (2min / 100m swim; 28km/hr bike; 6min / km run; 5min transitions) this goal is within reach.

Stretch goal: To finish within 11 hours or better.
Based on a very optimistic extrapolation of Portarlington (times scaled up + ½ hr), this goal may be within reach.
Based on very optimistic training times (1:50 / 100m swim; 31km/hr bike; 5 ½min / km run; 5 min transitions) this goal may be within reach.

My actual race time: Was 11:23, a touch faster than half way between my realistic goal and my stretch goal, but more than an hour and a half faster than my ‘don’t want to fail’ goal I set a year ago.
So, depending on your personality, the race goal you initially set may be skewed by your desire not to fail. To set a realistic goal you need some calibration data – a couple of half IM finishes under your belt and some training times. I found my half IM time x 2.1 was very close to my full IM time. Hence…
Hard thing #5: Setting a realistic race goal that is based on fact, not emotion.

#6. Accepting that it’s not ‘all about me’

As my training load increased towards 20 hours per week, and I became more tired, less fun to be with, and less use around the house, my partner Sharon would say: “This is all about you. Do whatever you need to do to get the result you want.” This was incredibly generous of Sharon and meant I was as well prepared for race day as I could possibly be, however she was wrong. It was not all about me.
During my training, I didn’t talk much about my goals or my training load. I did not want to become a ‘training bore’. I didn’t Facebook, Tweet or blog about anything I was doing. I setup a Facebook page to get the Tri Alliance data feed but the page only had my name and photo and nothing else – certainly no friends. After all, who would be interested?
While I was in a haze of training, my training partner Mark was posting to Facebook a couple of times a day. “Tues, 7.00am, Albert Park Lake. 12km run at 5.30min / km with Peter & Luke.” “Sat, 9.00am, Shells Café, Sorento. Bike: 100km done, 100km to go. Feeling good.”… and so on. I found I was regularly checking for any new posts to see what Mark was up to, and so were dozens of others.
The day after my race, I wrote a long email reflecting on race day to my friends (not triathletes) and family. The feedback I got surprised me. Apart from many ‘well done’ messages, I got two long responses describing how they were inspired and how they would like to do an Ironman themselves. The simple process of talking about my experience has inspired others to want to embark on the journey to Ironman. So, I never expected….
Hard thing #6: Put aside you feelings of ‘who would be interested?’ and Blog, Tweet, Facebook and share your journey to Ironman. You never know who you will inspire to start the journey themselves.

#7. Trusting the taper

The peak weeks were great. I was exhausted but feeling lean and powerful. I spent way too long looking at my new-found muscle definition in the mirror at the gym. I remember getting out of the pool one morning after cracking my first 1:35min hundred meter sprint with Ryan grinning a big ‘well done’ to me. I felt like my arms and chest were made from a composite of titanium, carbon fibre and Kevlar. My legs felt the same after a bike or run session and I was confident I was going to hit Port Mac harder than I ever imagined I would.
After the three phases of base, build & peak, I went into the two weeks of taper. I reduced my training load to 10 hours two weeks before the race down to a tiny 5 hours the week of the race (this is less than Ollie recommends in his program but I was constrained by family & work commitments, as well as packing & traveling to Port Mac.)
I felt fat, stiff and grumpy. My friends had told me to expect to feel bad during the taper but I felt shocking. Friday before the race I had a cold coming on and was shivering in bed. Again, I’d been told to expect this and that on race day, everything will be alright. This didn’t help however and I stated to get really worried. My year of hard work was about to be written off by a cold on race day. I had brought a copy of my training diary to read when I needed a confidence boost but it didn’t help. It just reinforced how my year of work was about to slip past me as I shivered in bed.
As it turned out, on the morning of race day I felt fantastic. My aches and pains had vanished and I felt supple and strong. I don’t know what was causing me to feel so shocking the day before. Pre-race nerves perhaps? My body forcing me to take a serious rest perhaps? Whatever it was takes me to…
Hard thing #7:  Trust the  taper. You may feel fat, stiff, sluggish and even become sick.  Remember, the taper works and you will hit the start line feeling strong and ready to smash it.

#8. Putting my achievement in perspective

To anybody who has not competed in an Ironman, it’s an amazing thing to accomplish. To most, running a marathon is regarded as the ultimate in human endurance. To run a marathon after swimming 3.8km and riding 180km is just crazy. Right? Wrong.
The pre-race carb party is a feast of pasta & rice two nights before your race. At Port Mac, the carb party has held in a huge marquee decked out in with Ironman logos and enormous movie screens. There was a lively and entertaining MC, along with a great talk from IM finisher and TV host Daniel MacPherson. Daniel reminisced about his journey to Ironman before the 400 first-time Ironmen were welcomed to the race. We were asked to stand and the crowd cheered. I had half a dozen Ironman finishers wish me a good race.
At the race awards ceremony on the Monday night there was none of the nervous tension from the first-timers there was three nights before. Just contented pride. We were welcomed by the MC for the night then entertained by a comedy duo.
Next followed the awards for the top five places in each age group. The winners finished in the following times:

• Pro men: 8:15hr;
• Pro Women: 9:35hr…
• Men 45-49: 9:40hr (1:40 My age group and faster than me);
• Men 50-54: 9:57hr (1:26 faster than me);
• Men 55-59: 9:42hr (1:41 faster than me);
• Men 60-64: 11:16hr (A 60 year old was 0:06 faster than me???);
• Men 65-69: 11:02hr (A 65 year old was 0:21 faster than me???)
• Men 70-74: 12:50hr (Thank goodness for that.)

My race time, that I’m very proud of, was six minutes slower than the winner of the 65-69 age group. What’s more, at the awards ceremony, they read out the names of athletes who have finished 5, 10, 15, 20 and even 25 races. It took me a year of intense effort and focus to train to finish a single race, but there are others who have done this 25 times or more.
When I signed up with Tri Alliance, I remember Ollie saying at an athlete information day “signing up for your first Ironman is like you are standing at the foot of Mt. Everest.” He is right, but finishing your first Ironman is exactly the same….
Hard thing #8:  When you finish your first Ironman, it’s like you are standing at the foot of Mt Everest. There will be athletes older than you who finished in a time that you never even dreamed about. There will be athletes who have completed 20+ Ironman races.  Time to start planning your next campaign.

#9. The sugar coated high of finishing your race will only last a short time

I have heard it called PIMDS (Post Ironman Depression Syndrome) and, more creatively AIDS (After Ironman Depression Syndrome.) Either way its real and mine started to take hold half way through the ride.
I had a wonderful swim. 3.8km in the open water with 1499 of my closest friends felt like it took ten minutes. The water was warm, visibility was good and it felt like we all swam in time like a giant school of sardines. T1 was wonderful  as I had two volunteers help rip off my wetsuit and put on my bike gear. The bike course was beautiful with some gentle rollers, a long flat patch then a tour around some of the inlets that form part of the Northern NSW coast. It was just beautiful. I was ‘in the zone’ mentally and felt like I was flying.
Part way through the second lap of the ride I started feeling sad, hollow and empty. I’m serious. I felt really down. I had been training hard for a year and it was almost over. In three hours of riding and four+ hours of running, just seven hours it would be over. My reason for getting out of bed at 5.30am every morning for a year would be gone. I described this in detail in my race report to friends.
This feeling stayed with me until Matthew Flinders Hill, 10km before T2.  Five minutes out of the saddle grinding up a steep hill stopped me feeling sorry for myself and helped me shift focus back to the race and to prepare for T2.
PIMDS or AIDS visited me on a couple occasions after the race, but never with the intensely it did three hours into the ride. So…
Hard thing #9:  Accepting that After Ironman Depression Syndrome can take hold at any time, even during the race, and finding ways to minimise its effect.

#10. Loosing contact with the world outside Ironman training

Ironman training sneaks up on you. Five hours a week soon becomes ten and ten soon becomes fifteen. Fifteen becomes twenty and before you know it, your life is a blur of wake, eat, train, work, train, eat, work, train, wash clothes, eat, sleep…..
On top of the long hours of training, there is time that must be spent getting to and from training, and washing all that disgustingly smelly sports clothing. As well, there will probably be a regime of massage, physio, and time spent mixing fancy food supplements to keep your body going.
All this takes time. Some of this time can be found by performing life’s daily tasks more efficiently. (For example, have you ever heard of the three-minute shower? Or what about the 10 minute pasta dinner?) The rest of this time must be found by not doing other things and for me that meant cutting back on the time I spent with friends not involved in training for the Ironman.
I have made some great friends along the journey to Ironman, with my training companion & fellow Port Macquarie competitor Mark Jenkins heading the list. But it is all the other friendships I have let slip that have been the biggest sacrifice I have made on my journey to Ironman.
I have taken a month off training after Port Mac to let my body recover, but also to put some effort into repairing lapsed friendships. I am not sure if a month will be enough to catch up with everyone I have lost contact with over the past year. My next race is Busselton in early December – just seven months after Port Mac. What is the correct mix of training and maintaining friendships & family?
Two months for friends & family then five months of training? Three months for friends then four months for training? Four months for friends then three months for training? This tough decision leads me to….
Hard thing #10:  Losing touch with friends & family as the Ironman training load builds to 20 hours per week.

#11. Deciding where to put the tat

Oh, there is one more hard thing. Deciding where to put the tattoo.
When I started my training, I wanted one of those M-Dot tattoos. Inspired by a friend who has one, and the occasional rider on Beach Road I saw, I wanted one of those tattoos. Not too flashy. Small. Right ankle so passing cyclists will see it (and drop back). Low enough to be hidden by a business sock but high enough to be visible when wearing a sports sock.
As my training progressed, and I became more confident of reaching my race goals, I started moving the bar on the tattoo. My original plan was to get it after finishing Port Macquarie – whatever the time. Then I moved the bar – I had to finish either three IM races or Port Macquarie in under 11 hours.
Now I’m questioning why I want to do Ironman races and are yet to find the true answer, I’m going cold on the tattoo idea. On the other hand, my friend’s M-Dot tat inspired me to train and race so perhaps if I had one, it would inspire others.  I’ll keep you posted on this (not to be under estimated) important decision.

Peter Hinrichsen.
“Ironman Finisher”