You’ve read them before, so I’ll try to make this one interesting. I did a 70.3 last weekend, and as usual it was harder than anticipated. I did the training, put in the hours, planned as much as I could, but in the end, it was simply a tough day on a tough course. Oh, and I might have screwed-up on the pre-race meal as well. Anyway, here is how it went.

I signed up for this course months ago. As I live in Gran Canaria, a race in Lanzarote is not (logistically) that big a deal. The flights are relatively cheap and short, and I found good deals on both a hotel and a rental car, so that part was all set. I also followed my race-specific training plan, putting in the big distances for both the bike and the run, and everything felt pretty good. Swimming had been going well, so I thought I could handle this one without much of a problem. I was already imagining myself at the top of the podium after the race, collecting my medal and waiting to receive my qualification slot to the 70.3 WC for next year. I think I was getting ahead of myself a bit.

I flew to Lanzarote early Thursday evening, travelling with a bike is always stressful as once you hand it over to the airline people it is no longer under your control. The frame, the wheels, the components – all in the hands of someone else. I managed to stuff pretty much everything into the bike bag, which is why the weight went from around 21kg to 27.5kg, but it seemed to be ok. I wheeled the bike to the oversized baggage counter and then it was gone. The flight was uneventful and I soon found myself walking the terminal in Lanzarote with my backpack and my bike, then standing in line waiting for my rental car. The drive from the airport to Playa Blanca took less than 30 minutes, and then I was checking into my room. I dropped my stuff and went in search of groceries, as I was hungry and it was just 21h, with the grocery store in mind closing by 22h. It was a five-minute drive and then I was all set, back to the room to have some dinner and do some unpacking. I left the majority of the bike work until the morning, as I wanted to makes sure I got a good night of sleep.

I awoke early, around 6h, and had finished coffee and breakfast before 7h. I spent the next hour and a half putting together the bike and going through all my gear. I already had my plan for the day – driving to pick-up my registration package at 10h, then a walk down to the race expo for C02 canisters, then a quick swim to stretch out the arms and check out the water. It was hot outside, reminding me of when I came to Lanzarote years ago to do the Ironman, sweating through my white t-shirt quite easily. Back to the room, then lunch and a quick tour on the bike to make sure everything was working properly. Check. A bit of down time, then a run around the block to keep the legs awake. I packed my bike and run bags and set out on the bike to the transition area, where my stuff would be staying for the night. Helmet on, bike checked and racked, then helmet into the bike bag and both bags hung with all the rest, to spend the night awaiting the madness of Saturday. Back to the room and some pasta for dinner. Actually, too much pasta, but that is me looking back on the night, not me in the process of the night. Anyway, I made sure all my stuff was ready for the morning, as the goal was to leave the room at 5h50 for the 15-minute walk to the transition area, where I had booked a time of 6h-6h45 for making sure all was good with the bike. I was tired and turned out the light at 21h, as my alarm was set for 4h30. All good so far, all according to plan. Of course, I was awake for another hour, and I woke up before the alarm, but overall, a good eight hours of sleep.

 Finally truly awake and having breakfast, knowing that the big day is really here. Final preparations made, I leave the room on schedule and get to the transition area at about 6h10. It only took a few minutes to put the shoes on the bike with rubber bands and to add the needed nutrition and water, and then the bike was ready. Like nearly everyone else in the area, I then stood looking at my bike to make sure nothing had been forgotten. Proper tire pressure, proper gear to start pedaling, clean chain, bike computer on and calibrated and waiting… all good. I looked around, seeing all the other athletes in the same type of trance, each wondering if they had forgotten anything. I was lucky to be at the end of the rack, next to a streetlight, as it was still pitch-black outside and many were using their phones to light a small patch of ground to go through the process that I had just finished. Satisfied, I walked down the hill and out of transition and sat on the stone wall at the edge of the sidewalk.

The wall was not extremely comfortable, so I wandered down the path a bit and found a bench looking out on the harbour. It was now about 6h45 and I could see the lights of Corralejo across the water. The water appeared calm, a great morning for swimming as the wind was non-existent.

There was a line of portapotties just up the sidewalk, so to ease the morning nerves (and dispose of some breakfast) I got in line. Turns out that only 2 of the 15 portapotties were actually open, the rest were locked and unusable for some strange reason. Word started going around that they would be unlocked soon, but that did not help the general agitation as the lines started to build. I luckily was able to access one of them, and with that out of the way I then made the walk to the swim start.

Now things were getting real, getting close. You could see it in peoples’ eyes, everyone was fully awake and serious. We were not allowed to enter the water and warm-up before the start, so everyone was stretching, me included, before putting on the wetsuit. We dropped our street cloths bags and then it was off to our designated swim pen. First it would be the male pros, then five minutes later the female pros, then the PC (physically challenged) athletes, then we, the age-groupers, were up. First would be those who could complete the swim in under 25 minutes, then those of us (me included) who estimated under 35 minutes, followed by those who estimated they need 45 minutes or longer. We would be going off six at a time, every five seconds, a staggered start.

Here we go, down the ramp and into the water, everything felt good. I cold just make out the sandy bottom of the harbour as we dodged between yachts on the way to the first buoy. The conditions were fine, the sun was just coming up and we had enough room to navigate without constantly knocking into each other. Except for the guy who decided it was a good idea to swim across all of us into open water, away from the marker buoy. I swam across his legs and kept going in the correct direction. Everything was going according to plan, yet when I came out of the water and looked at my watch as I crossed the timing mat, I saw 31:11, several minutes slower than the 28:00 from the Mogan race in April. Well, either this one was a bit longer or the other one was a bit shorter, because I felt great during the whole swim, strong and confident and never out of energy.

Transition was kind of a long run, but then I was grabbing my bag, taking off my wetsuit and putting on my bike helmet. Bag back on the rack, quick run to the bike, then I continued to run up the hill to the mount line. Everything went smoothly and I was on the bike, feet in the shoes, ready to go.

Uphill. And a lot of wind. Those were the first things through my mind as I settle into the aerobars for the next 90km. We started going up and just kept on going. Up. The initial 12km were quite slow, like almost single-digit speed slow, being rocked back and forth by the wind blowing seemingly from both sides. Glad I worked out those gear issues the night before, I continued towards the top and that first aid station. Finally there, I took an energy drink mix and then enjoyed a few minutes of near flat roads. Then down, fast, twisting and turning and not daring to use the aerobars with the wind gusts sweeping me across the road at speeds of 50km/h. Several roundabouts then brought us back to a long, straight uphill section, sometimes in the aerobars and sometimes not. Another roundabout and then it is a rolling section in the lava fields, we have to be getting close to the turnaround, and there it is in the distance. I made the turn and then we have a tailwind and things get fast quickly, in the aerobars spinning a big gear and I’m going over 50km/h. around that last roundabout and then into a loooong downhill, spinning at over 65km/h, passing all those people who had passed me on the initial uphill section. Back into town in what seemed like no time, and then we do it all over again. A bit slower on the uphill this time as it feels like the wind is gusting a bit more. And then whoosh!, the big downhill again.

Back to the initial climb again, but this time I know that I’ll do a turnaround at the aid station and then zoom back to the transition area. I still feel strong, but my shoulders and back are getting sore from the continued scrunching into the aero position. I made the turnaround and then started bombing down the hill. It was about here that I hit my top speed of 76.8km/h, but it was also in this section that I had a close call.

The road was quite bumpy, so I stayed on the basebar instead of the aerobars. A good thing, as my aero extensions came loose and in a moment were dangling in front of the bike, one of them rubbing against the front tire and the only thing holding them in place was the cables. After an initial freak out, I was able to slow down and stop on the side of the road. It seemed that the single bolt holding the extensions in place had rattled loose. I quickly took out my tools and reattached the extensions, but by then my confidence in the bars was gone. I stayed on the basebar the rest of the way, which luckily was another 5km downhill and then I was back in transition, racking my bike and running for the bags. Quick change, off with the helmet, on with the shoes, and away we go. The total bike time had been 3h7m, much slower than anticipated, but then again I hadn’t realized that there was simply very little flat tt-able road during the escapade, so I could live with that time. Transition was pretty quick, about four minutes, it was a downhill run from the dismount line to the bags. And the run began.

It was a hot day, and the wind was always there but it was hot as well. As I started the run I felt pretty good and passed a few people. I checked my watch and I was doing 4:30m/km, which was great. That was the goal, if I could keep it up for the rest of the race it would have been the perfect execution. But that was not going to happen.

After about 3km things started to go downhill. I felt like I had no energy, nothing to keep me going. People started to pass me and I could not react. I took in a lot of liquid at the first several aid stations, and I even stopped at the portapotty on that first lap. I stopped a few times and walked several strides before starting again. The second 5km lap felt worse. My stomach was still grumbling, but I took on even more liquid at the aid stations. My time had slowed to somewhere in the 5:xxm/km range, but at this point I was beyond worrying about it.

I guess I did something right during that second lap, as I started to feel better during lap 3. I could run continuously, even the uphill sections, and it started to feel not so bad. I kept telling myself that I could have cola at the aid stations during lap 4, so that was an extra motivation. And then it was lap 4 and I knew it was coming to a close. Instead of turning for another lap I continued straight down the boardwalk, with people in the cafes cheering and clapping. I wondered how much further I had to go, and then there was a sharp right turn and the end was just 200m away. Finished.

The end of a race like that is anticlimactic, especially with no family or friends present to levitate towards. I stretched for a moment, then grabbed a water and sat down on a concrete wall to watch others cross the line and to rest for a moment. The sun was beating down upon us, but as we were all sweaty and pouring water over ourselves it did not matter.

After a bit I walked in the direction of the post-race goodies – finisher t-shirts, medals, and lunch. Just before getting my bagged lunch I was handed a large glass of cola with ice, wow that was good! I also got my street cloths bag so I could change out of my shoes and put on my sandals. Again, that was good. I called home while trying to eat a bit, but the wind made both difficult, so we agreed to speak when I got back to the room. I gathered my things and began walking back to the hotel, but on the way I stopped and bought a 6-pack of beer, for later. After 20 minutes carrying what seemed to be heavy bags, I made it back to the room. Ahhhhhhh.

Not so fast, I still had to pick-up my transition bags and my bike. I changed into another pair of sneakers, and leaving on my trisuit and finisher t-shirt I grabbed a backpack and began the walk to transition, about 15 minutes. Without the street cloths bag and the beer weighing me down, the walk was enjoyable. A very slow, deliberate walk, feeling every step (but none of it labored).

In the transition area I removed the water bottles and shoes from my bike, put them in the backpack, and then continued down the hill to the transition bags. They were still where I left them, so I took out the still-dripping wetsuit and rolled it properly, placed it in a garbage bag, and then put it and the bike helmet into the backpack and went back up the hill, grabbed my bike, and continued up the hill to the end of transition/check-out area. Everything was in order, so I hopped on the bike and rode to few minutes back to the hotel. Then back to the room, lean the bike against the wall, empty the bags and begin drying my equipment. The bike shoes and running shoes were soaking wet, so those and the wetsuit went on the balcony. The trisuit went on a rack in the bathroom. And everything was peaceful.

I took a shower and let the water run for a while, cleaning away a day of work. Afterwards, I cracked a beer and started going through the lunch that they had given us – lots of goodies in there! I made another call home and this time went over the race in more detail while sitting on a chair on the balcony, beer in my hand and sun on my face. Afterwards I migrated to the couch where I cracked another beer and had more of the lunch, which by now was an early dinner. Little by little I went from vertical to horizontal on the couch, that third beer was a tough one. Lots of water now as well. I knew I’d have to start breaking down my bike soon, but I put it off a bit. My head was just not there yet.

I ended up half packing the bike and my other equipment that night, waiting until morning to finalize everything and also to give my stuff some more time to dry out. By 21h I was lights out, ready for a good night of sleep.

Of course I awoke early, around 6h, and had breakfast. By 7h30 I had completed my packing and decided to walk down to the beach before checking-out and going to the airport. It was a quiet morning, not a lot of action as I left the hotel grounds. As I crossed the street I saw the remains of one of the aid stations, it was almost cleaned up and ready to disappear. Down by the beach, along the boardwalk, it was a regular Sunday morning. There were already many people walking and running, and the cafes were just starting to open their doors and place tables on the sidewalks. I found a bench looking out on the water and enjoyed the morning for a while.

Eventually I walked back to the hotel, cleaned the fridge, checked-out and made the voyage back to the airport, about 30 minutes. Everything went smoothly and we were soon circling the Gran Canaria airport. My wife picked me up and then it was back to the house and my family and the real world. And that was that.