Ironman 70.3 Les Sables d'Olonne

Back in February, I started training toward breaking 5 hours at the Ironman 70.3 Sables d'Olonnes.

Looking back at the 2019 season, I knew I had to improve my training plan, quality and consistency. That's where I contacted Rich, to start working on my new training plan.

Flash forward to the last month.. After months of a consistent build up in training, I got my final touch of training in the French Alps. A one week training camp with my friends who also took part in IM 70.3 Sables d'Olonnes. On the menu, riding the mythic roads like Alpes d'Huez, swimming in mountain lakes to catch up on the almost no swimming due to pools being closed, and also touching up on my running speed, being with two fast runners.

As much as that week was amazing, I also came back with a sharp pain in my shin. A week away from race start.

We arrived on Friday in Les Sables d'Olonne, just enough time for a quick swim in the ocean, an easy ride on the race course and to enjoy the beautiful town, mostly known to be the start of the sailing race Vendee Globe.

Night of the race, when all the athletes were thinking about the head wind forecasted for the end of the bike course, or the stream on the swim caused by the tide getting out of the harbor, ...

For me, my shin was the only thing on my mind. I haven't been running since the training week in the Alps, and even though the pain was mild, I could still feel it walking to take my bike to transition. Should I take a painkiller before / during the race? Should I run with my compression band? What if it hurts while running to the bike in T1?

5am on race morning, while having coffee at the window looking at the still, quiet ocean, I decided to go how I trained to race, no pain killers, no compression bands. Just take them with me and see how it goes as the race unfolds.

Ready to go, mask on, in the dark with 1500 athletes on our way to T2 to set up and get the last details sorted. This was followed by the 20min walk along the marina to get to the starting line, time to rehearse one more time the plan of the day: pace, hydration, nutrition; and for a last stop to the toilet.

It then all goes like a flash: put on the wetsuit, hear the pro race start and not even time to warm up! The sun had only just started to appear, when I'm the next one to go and a member of staff thankfully reminded me to get rid of my mask!

3, 2, 1, Gooo!! Walking slowly down the slippery steps going down the water. A different start than the previous year which started by a 100m sprint in the wetsuit on the sand.

I got quickly into a good rhythm, swimming away. Two things I kept in mind: stay calm and swim straight!

After about 300 meters, first and second turn, to head back into the Vendee Globe canal. Took 1/2 second to admire the sun rising finally. Now into the narrow channel, with lots of spectators standing on the marina cheering us on and the swim ended between the race boats in the harbour.

Out of the water, swim done in 35min: job done for the first part. Now running on the floating pier to T1, where I knew where I had to go. Even if I knew where to go, I also noticed there were 4 or 5 bikes almost identical to mine on the same rack. Thankfully, I managed to get to mine directly. As I had practiced taking off my wetsuit a few times, this part went smoothly. What I didn't foresee was to put on my socks (with wet feet), but finally managed to put those on before running out of T1. That's where I happily realized that I've been running in T1 without pain!

Now onto the bike course, for a single lap in the beautiful Vendee countryside. My main goal was to be faster than last year, complete the bike leg in less than 2h35min but most importantly, be fresh enough for the run, which was a bit of a let down last year. So for the first 1h, I averaged 36.4km/h. On track with the target and legs feeling good, but still very cold which keeps my HR lower than expected. But I keep on going, until about halfway through, when in a struggle to open a gel with my teeth. I rip it in half, end up with the whole gel on my face, my arms and the handlebars. After few minutes going through multiple phases, anger at the stupid move, then scared thinking that my nutrition plan being compromised for the rest of the race and I'll pay for it during the run, I finally calm down and focus and realise I can get some replacement at the next help station. So I pull myself together and carry on. Passed the second hour on the bike course, averaged 36.8km/h. So still on target, still cold, but still got something in my legs. Even with the few power surges I couldn't resist to push in some villages where the support from people on the side of the road was just amazing. So I got the last caffeine gel in, which had been very helpful during the practice brick runs, and just cruised until the end.

Back into transition, happy with the time I've done: 2h29min. I know the most important part is yet to come. I quickly rack my bike, put on my running shoes and even though I don't think I was over hydrated, I had to take a quick detour by the toilets. So far the pain in my shin has been slight, so run out of transition confident, as fresh as I wanted to be, and ready to start the half marathon ahead, starting with 3k along the marina, followed by 300 meters on the sand to get to the 3 laps loop along the promenade and around Tanchet lake.

The first kilometers I was in agony the year before, but not this one. Legs were fresh, started to overtake a few athletes while keeping an eye on my watch to make sure I stick to the 4:30m/km. Get to the beautiful beach, where luckily the first half the sand was quite wet, so not so bad to run on, followed by the iconic dry sand where the struggle was real. Luckily, it wasn't long before I found myself on the promenade where thousands of people were cheering along. That was where I found another athlete going at the same speed, with the word "coach" written on his trisuit. So I thought, because he's a coach, he must be capable and focused enough to keep a consistent pace, which I knew will be very valuable as all those people which included my 7 months pregnant wife would likely push me to run too fast. So I complete the first loop, keep the gels going and the pace on point while I still feel relatively easy. All went well until I got to the 10km mark, where fatigue started to creep in, and I took my first coke and water at the aid station. The pace that used to feel easy was now harder and harder to keep, and every 3km I felt the need to get something at the aid station, and a second to catch my breath. Pace goes dow\n, 4:35, 4:40, 4:45, 4:50... as the pain in my shin starts to rise, but the kilometres keep on passing by and I complete the second lap. The final lap is a bit of a roller coaster, and as I run past my wife I get a boost for a few minutes until I hit the wall again, and boost again when I see my friends and wall again and again. As the mental battle unfolds kilometre after kilometres the boosts are slower and walls are deeper. Until I run past the last aid station, to the finish line where the crowd noise and the idea to be done running gives me wings to give all I had left to end where I only realised that I've clearly broke the 5h, and so pass the finish line on the red carpet 4h52 after I first put my feet in the water.

I then quickly get given a mask to put on, before I can grab my own and well deserve a medal. The mask was a great reminder of the luck we had to be able to be racing, in an amazing location, great conditions and such a well organised event. And the medal is a souvenir of all the effort done over a full year of training the body and mind for this special event toward a personal goal: break 5h.