IRONMAN WESTERN AUSTRALIA
November 28th 2004
Travelers arriving in Perth, Western Australia, from northern Europe could well be forgiven for thinking they have journeyed to the end of the earth. After all, their trip, like mine, probably involved a long flight to Asia, a few hours filling the daypack with duty-free gadgets in Hong Kong or Singapore, and five or more hours traversing the blue Indian Ocean and red western deserts, before landing in this warm breezy city of about 1.3 million people.
My journey was part annual pilgrimage to see family and friends in my home town, but it was also an Ironman pilgrimage, to take part in the first ever Ironman Western Australia race. It was my first Ironman too, and the lure of an inaugural race at home was more than enough to motivate me into making the long trip from Stockholm where I now live. The promise of 25 Hawaii qualifying spots and rumours of a fast course attracted many others too. In all about 880 people paid their registrations before the deadline – most from outside Western Australia including plenty from overseas. Swedish representation was low, with only Kari Martens from Göteborg and myself competing under the yellow and blue.
Arriving
It’s well worth allowing time to get acclimatised if travelling to compete at IMWA. These long haul flights can take their toll on us highly tuned athletes, whose immune systems are wrecked from the over-training we’ve been doing to prepare. The full suite of bacteria on offer in commercial aircraft, plus dehydration, jet lag and climate shock can all take their toll.
I managed to contract the lot!
Needless to say, I wasn’t able to stick to a very athletic taper program and instead, after consultation with a couple of Perth’s finest sports physicians, resorted to a program of beer, surfing and sunbathing to finish off my training. One should never underestimate the power of some good rest and relaxation!
Preparation
I did manage to train a bit, and this is where a stay in Perth (preferably the port of Fremantle) can be well worthwhile in the weeks before the race. Perth has a fanatical cycling community and athletes are free to join in the group rides that leave from local cafés most mornings of the week. Some like the “Ginos”, “Raffles” and “Old Papas” rides are legendary, and the pace is frantic if you sit at the front of the peloton. It’s also easy to ride up or down the coast enjoying beach views alone or with friends if you prefer a more relaxed session. There are mellow group rides on offer too, and hundreds of kilometers of hills about 30 km inland from the coast.
The swimming is also legendary. There are probably over thirty 50 m pools in the Perth suburbs so finding an uncrowded lane isn’t too hard. The 60 km or so of white beaches with clean water are ideal for practising your open water swim technique. Hooking up with a triathlon training group is a good option too. The coach at my Perth club (Stadium Triathlon Club), Paul Newsome welcomes overseas athletes into group training sessions. I have met good Finnish, Danish and Swedish friends in this group over the years. This is a good way to get some structure in your taper if you lack discipline and are trying to avoid the beer and surfing program like me.
Tapering nearly finished, and it’s time to head south to the race venue.
Busselton
Ironman WA is held in the oceanside town of Busselton, about 230 km south of Perth. This corner of the Australian continent is left off most European traveler’s itineraries, however the locals don’t complain too much. After all, why would they want the Euro-masses clogging up their pristine beaches, drinking and eating all their cabernet and crayfish, and crowding their clean lines of surf? You get the picture.
The Busselton people have really embraced the Ironman spirit, and at IMWA in 2004 over 1,000 locals volunteered to help out – at aid stations, as medical staff and in registration tents. The atmosphere was super-friendly and welcoming. The town is ideal for putting the finishing touches on training – with great ocean swimming in Geographe Bay, uncrowded roads to bike on east of town, and good coastal running paths and roads. Not to mention beach running if you think your calves need a bit of last-minute strength work (don’t do it!).
The days leading up to the race on November 28th were uncharacteristically cold and windy as a cold front passed through. People were body surfing at the beach on the swim course, and the weak swimmers among us were looking worried. This time last year it was dead calm and approaching 40ºC. Now I’m wishing I’d packed some of my Swedish clothes, and that I hadn’t missed so many of my Stockholm City Triathlon club swim sessions.
Race Day
Race day dawns with the north-westerly wind easing off and a manageable sea running. It’s going to get to about 24ºC on this day with a bit of cloud – perfect racing conditions. The lame duck swimmers are feeling better about things. How can you not feel great with this atmosphere, as we stand in knee-deep water on the beach, ready for the 6am start. The Aboriginal blessing of the race with pulsing didgeridoos set our hearts racing (literally) and put tears in our eyes. My highest heart rate for the day was achieved at this time – about 95% max pulse – I was amped – ready to go.
Swim
The music pumped, the local policeman fired his rifle, and the aquatic wrestling match that is an Ironman swim began. People lining the old 2 km long jetty had a great view of the 800 or so athletes heading into the bay. The sea wasn’t too bad, but it wasn’t smooth either. My plan was to hang back at the start, find early rhythm through the waves, and swim in a straight line. It worked well, and what is normally my weakest leg turned out to be my best. A lot of other people were dragged off-course by the cross-current, or just didn’t find the rhythm. The race at the front was probably sensational, but heck I was in no position to see it. Winning time for the 3.8 km swim was around 45 minutes. Mine: 1:01.
Bike
With the pre-qualification stage over the real race begins. Three loops of the 180 km bike course on flat roads. Sounds easy enough, but the road surface wasn’t as slick as I’d imagined and the larger asphalt stones seemed to suck the speed out of our wheels. Flat courses need to be treated with respect. Their effects are often felt not during but afterwards in the marathon. Pushing big gears and sitting long periods in an aggressive aero position can make the run a world of pain.
As the day went on the breeze picked up and we pushed a warm headwind on long sections of the course. It all added up to a slow and not so gentle clobbering of the body and soul, and lap three required plenty of fortitude and cadence to keep some sort of pace going. My bike ride, normally my best leg, this time wasn’t so strong (5:52).
The volunteers giving out food and drink along the way were fantastic. The whole race organisation went like clockwork.
Run
Through T2, I’ve been moving for 7 hours, and now I’m about to start a marathon run.
In a sensible, normal person’s life these two phrases would never appear in the same sentence, but Ironman isn’t normal or sensible. The elite guys and girls have been running for a while now, and only have 1 hour or so left to race. I’ve got a few more – 4 hours and 13 minutes more to be precise. In summary the run was easy on the first lap and bloody hard on the last two, with the exception being the last 4 km where I felt great and ran well. I passed some good athletes and had some good ones pass me – that’s Ironman.
Finish
The finishing chute feeling for a first timer is hard to describe. For me it made the 6 months, 11 hours and 6 minutes of hard work all worthwhile.
The Busselton finishing chute is a long one, so too the joy is long.
Party
The awards ceremony was fantastic, not so much for the party, but for the humility it teaches. Although my time was okay for a first time 38 year-old, I was outpaced by women over 50 and men over 60 years of age. Wheelchair athletes “stood-up” and finished with great times. At Ironman you truly get to rub shoulders with some of the most amazing people!
In one of the better speeches delivered, Jason Shortis the race winner (8:16) explained how Ironman is not an individual sport, but a team one. We can’t make it down that finisher’s chute without the help of our partners, friends, family, supporters, coaches and training buddies. Among other things our loved ones put up with our tiredness, our egos and our absence from their lives while we’re out training. I have many such great “team mates” around me. They know who they are, and to them I say thanks.
Vi ses down-under i november.
Shane Chaplin
http://www.ironmanwa.com/