It's not about the Beast: St Croix 70.3

Long, very rambling - off topic - only interesting to a very small number of people, feel free to ignore, pass on by, nothing to see here. I might even start taking and posting about photographs again, some time soon. SoFoBoMo is right around the corner. Go on, make a book. You know you want to!

I've been wanting to do the St Croix Half Ironman for a long time. Probably ever since I heard about it. One of the hardest 70.3 races in the world, a beautiful island in the Caribbean, great crowd support, 1.2 mile ocean swim, really tough 56 mile bike course, hot and humid half marathon to top it off. What's not to like?

I was all set to do it in 2008. Finishing Ironman Arizona in 2007 I was in the best shape of my life. I just had to cruise through to next year and I'd be ready to head out to St Croix. Then I broke my ankle playing my one annual game of squash. Except of course I didn't realise it was broken for about a year, so after many attempts at rehab; trying to run; frustration; and weight gain later, I finally had surgery and got things fixed up.

More rehab, more frustration, traveling for months with a leg brace, the fun of going through security and getting carted around airports. In April 2009 I struggled through the Lifetime Fitness Indoor Triathlon. I was barely able to finish a 10 minute swim, 30 minute bike and 20 minute run after training for months. Quite a change from my previous tri!

Still, I kept building on that and finished the San Antonio Half Marathon by the end of the year. Finally started to feel like I could run again so St Croix looked to be back on. Settled in to train for it properly around January of 2010, building on the running base, trying to get back some cycling fitness. I read about the Beast - the 7/10ths of a mile long, 14% average grade, with a 21-27% grade kicker hill at St Croix and tried to get prepared. Realised quite quickly that there aren't any hills like that around Austin, but resigned myself to lots of repeats on Fitzhugh Road, riding out to Johnson City. I'd do repeats on the bigger hills I could find out there, feeling like I was getting in good training. Some weekends, I'd swim at Barton Creek then ride home from there, hill after hill, back out to Dripping Springs, and feel like that was also good training.

Started swimming again some time in March, and probably didn't do enough, given this was going to be my first ocean swim, but was doing about 2x3000m workouts per week, so I wasn't too concerned. Running was going well and my ankle was holding together. Started to try and get some heat acclimation by running in the evening and doing outdoor spin workouts in the sun, at Pure. Had a few confidence-building solo runs, across Austin and up Mt Bonnell, in the mid April heat, and started to feel almost ready.

We flew out to St Croix on the Wednesday before the race, to try and have a bit of a holiday and also to give my bike time to arrive. I'd heard that the small American Eagle planes often don't have enough space for all the bikes going to the race so it might take a few days. The bike arrived on the same flight, in one piece - one panic out of the way.

We stayed at the Buccaneer hotel on St Croix. Supposed to be the best accommodation available. Had a slightly weathered and faded feel, as if its best days were behind it, but still a lovely location. The weather was hot when we arrived - 88F and humid, 80%-90% all day, every day. Over night it dropped to about 78F. Not much like Austin at all. I did my best to get used to it, driving with the windows down in the car and the AC off. Staying outside when I could. Hydrating, hydrating, hydrating.

Amanda & I ran the Paradise 5k race on the Thursday night, giving us a taste of what the heat and humidity were like to run in, even late in the evening. Not my fastest race ever. I got a chance to swim in the Christensted harbour the next morning, swimming the race course at the practice swim. The water was lovely, 80F and only a couple of feet swell. The water was so clear you could see everything around you. I got used to the waves and pounding, working out how to breathe to the opposite side, wishing I'd practiced more bilateral breathing in the pool. Nothing too dramatic.

Then we drove the bike course and I got to see the hills for the first time. Didn't seem too bad in a car! Even though at one point the car wheels spun out and couldn't really cope with how steep the road was. I tried to put that out of my mind.

On the Friday night, the carbo loading party coincides with 'Jump Up' - a town-wide street party. Many of the restaurants get involved, lots of music in the streets, generally a great time. Better than the buffet in a tent in a carpark that many races have.

Got up, bright and early at 4am on race day, had some breakfast and headed off to check in. Found my rack, set up my gear and got ready for the start. I'd noticed at packet pickup and saw again that most of the people here looked like top end age groupers. Started to feel more out of place. About 400 people total started the race, haven't done a tri this small since the Chester Tri sprints in England!

The swim start is beautiful. All the athletes swim across the harbour to a small island and the start is from the beach there, looking back to the transition area and the rest of the Island. The sun was just coming up and the wind was still fairly calm. You could hear the national anthems drifting across the water and then the pro field was off. My wave was only a few minutes behind them.

The swim was quite uneventful. I got a bit distracted waving/ smiling at one diver down below us who was filming the race, but other than that I just settled in behind someone in my wave and drafted to a very relaxed 39 minute swim. There were about 90 people in my wave, not much drama or shoving, because I started wide, on the outside of the first turn, which is only 100m from the beach. It looked a little more congested on the inside of that turn.

Then, quickly onto the bike after a 3 minute T1.  Chewing gum in transition was a great help with getting over the saltwater in the mouth from swimming. The first loop is a fairly easy 8 miles of sheltered false flats and one smallish hill, then you start the bigger loop around the whole of the island. The first 20 miles fly by, with some crazy twists and turns through the narrow Christensted streets to keep you focused, then out into the countryside. I averaged an easy 21mph for the first 20 miles. Then right there, at mile 20, the undulating, gorgeous coastal bike course takes a hard left turn. Signs on the road let you know that this is the beast. No chance to keep any momentum going, you are straight into a 14% grade climb from almost a standing start.

I'd done all my training with a 23 cog cassette as my biggest gear and switched in a 28 a couple of weeks out, to give me some extra gears, just for this climb. I'd expected to keep most of those in reserve for further up the hill, with a plan to start out 2 or 3 gears down. Straight away I'm in the 28 and trying to at least stay seated. I spin up the first 1/10th of a mile and then see 15.5% written on the road. Things start to slow down. The sun feels hotter. That breeze that had been at my back has disappeared. I'm already thinking that walking might not be such a terrible idea, but I know I'll never get back on the bike on this hill if I stop. So I keep pushing. Around 2/10ths of a mile, there's a 16% written on the road. I'm standing now, keeping things going around. 16.5% passes. Then the most depressing marker - Half-Way - Only half way! Still no letup, the road just keeps climbing and climbing, occasionally dropping back down to 12%, 13% but never any real relief.

The flattest part is about 4/10ths of a mile up, where it drops back down to a 10% grade. By now, that feels pretty flat and I get to catch my breath, but the next corner is the 27% grade that the car was slipping on. Somehow I make it past that, onto the final 17-18% climbs to the top. A lot of people are walking here. Several are zig-zagging back and forth across the whole road, trying to find any way to get up the hill. Thanks to the 28 gear I'm able to ride slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, straight up the road. I'm standing the whole way, trying not to swear too loudly, pushing and pulling as much as I can with my arms, hanging over the front wheel to get a bit of gravity on my side pushing up the hill. I've never worked this hard on a hill before and I'm in a 28 gear! 12 minutes and 15 seconds later I cross the line on the road at the top of the Beast. I stop at the water stop they put there. I have to ask someone to open up the top of my water bottle because I can't quite find the strength to turn the top open to fill it. But I did it!

The backside of the Beast is a long twisty downhill. A chance to recover a bit before you get into the real bike course. From here you head out to the North of the island and ride along the coast the full length of St Croix. Into a 15-20mph headwind the whole way. Without any shelter. It's just rolling hills

and false flats here, but that wind never goes away. Eventually you reach the end of the island and turn around to come back. Finally out of the wind! That's where the hills start again, lots of short, steep hills, only up to about 14% grades, but just relentlessly popping up in front of you. The Beast might get top billing on this course, but the 30 miles after it are what really takes the toll. I kept drinking and popping salt tablets all the way back.

I'd gotten some good advice at packet pickup from a guy who'd done the race 4 times before. Every time I felt like I was starting to push hard, I backed off the effort. All day in the swim and on the bike, whenever I felt like I was trying I eased off. Got to the end of the bike in 3hrs45 and felt really good. My legs felt great - relaxed, rested. No cramps, no tiredness, probably the best I've felt at the end of a 56 mile bike in quite a while, particularly one that hilly.

Another quick 2 minute transition and I was out on the run. Into the heat which was started to feel really oppressive by this point. I've read it was about 98F by then, no shade anywhere on the run course, not enough clouds in the sky, still 80% humidity.

I ran out of transition, my legs still felt great and ran past the people cheering, and my heart rate kept going up and up. Really quickly I realised I couldn't keep running like this, and so the long walk began. Every time I tried to run my heart rate shot up. I tried running waterstop to waterstop (every 6/10ths of a mile along the road) But the heat was really getting to me. I dumped cups of ice down my shorts (more good advice), piled ice under my hat, poured water over myself and kept on drinking and taking salt. I could run for a few minutes each time I used the ice, but it seemed to melt away all too quickly. I decided I could keep really pushing the run, and not finish, or try to manage things and get, eventually, to the finish line. The best part of the entire run was when Amanda co-oped some kids on the side of the road to form a cheering section for me.

That's what a 3 hour half marathon is made of, lots of walking, lots of ice, occasional running for half a mile then trying to recover again. The half marathon course is quite hilly too, roughly the same as Scenic in Austin. Beautiful, out by the coast, passing by the beach, running around a golf course and up and down some more short, steep hills. It would have been challenging if I could have run, but going so slowly things were fine. Towards the second loop clouds started to come in and every time the sun went away I was able to run. Then it'd come back out and the heat would spike again and I'd be walking along.

Eventually I crossed the line, 7 hours and 32 minutes after I'd started. I felt fine, never quite able to run fast enough to really hurt. Bit frustrated about the run but happy the swim and bike went so well. Felt recovered after about 5 minutes under a damp towel in the shade. I think I'll be back again.

ironman coeur d'alene 2009

Was lucky enough to get to watch a huge group of people from T3 in Austin take part in and do amazingly well at Ironman CDA, at the weekend. I took a few pictures too. Congratulations to all of them.

t3 practiceman

Every year the T3 training group put on a training event called the practiceman. Gets people used to switching from the bike to running, without the pressure of a race. I used it as a pre-race practice for my own photography too. Was a good way to dial in some things for the race on Monday. As I mentioned yesterday, practice with the camera is what is helping me get better shots. More familiarity with the controls, being able to change settings quickly and with confidence. The week in Big Bend at the start of the month further helped with that. A lot of night photography and learning to find the buttons more by feel than sight further dials in the muscle memory. I've sat watching the TV in a dark room, working the buttons on the camera in the near darkness as well, just to keep building that understanding of the layout. That way, I can change settings without taking the camera away from my eye, if needed, less chimping and looking at the camera, more making the shots you want to make.

I've also been working a bit more with the 580EX flash, on camera. Again there I'm getting more familiar with what it can do and how to adjust things to get the shots I want. Darkening down the background and then opening up the foreground with the fill from the flash. Off camera mostly gives better results, but using the fill on these really bright, sunny days can give the bit of lift that's needed.

indexhibit

I've been wanting to re-vamp my website for quite a while now, over at mcgregorphoto.com. A while ago, I cobbled together some html that did a reasonable job of showing the pictures I put up. It was automated slightly, to pick up new pictures as I added them, but somehow I never did. This morning I read about Indexhibit and thought I'd take a look. I've tried various Content Management Systems (CMS) in the past, for web hosting. Including the often recommended Gallery Photo Management System. However, they've always been too feature-rich, and hence complex, or just not quite what I was looking for. I wanted something fairly simple, clean and easy to maintain. That includes being able to add new pictures easily. I wanted to be able to organise the images in terms of projects or folios of work. I use flickr for my stream of consciousness images - all the stuff I shoot ends up on flickr. Family images, holiday snaps, more planned stuff, everything. However, flickr is really not good at all for showing sets of finished work. The long-teased flickrfolio might do that, but I got fed up waiting. I managed to resist my natural urge to start with Indexhibit and then spend the next few weeks researching other options, just in case there is something better out there. Instead, for a change, I decided just to try it out and see how it works.

I was very pleasantly surprised how easy Indexhibit was to install. It took me about 10 minutes to get it up and running on my 1and1 hosted site. That includes setting up a MySQL database backend and configuring the Indexhibit install. I haven't done much with it yet, but you can preview the new look. I'll no doubt be playing around with the format and content over the next few weeks but I am impressed by the ease of use and the look and feel so far. At this point I'm really not interested in doing web design, I want to be able to host the images in a clean and simple way. Indexhibit does that very well.

running into next year

Just got told today by my physiotherapist that I can start trying to run again this coming weekend. Recovery from the ankle surgery I had back in September has been slow but uneventful. I've seen incremental improvements each week, with some diligent doing of the prescribed exercises. Over the last couple of weeks I was able to finish hour long spin classes, without much of any pain (first time in about 18 months) and now I'm apparently cleared to start hurting myself again on a running track. About time too! In general my picture taking and enthusiasm for photography has tracked my recovery - more time to think, more time in the gym, more inspiration for photographs. Also generally being able to get around more easily helps, even being able to walk briskly ahead of people on the beach last week let me get photographs I wouldn't have been able to 3 months ago.

It has lined up well with the start of the triathlon season for Amanda, who is getting ready for her next Ironman race. Training for that starts this week as well. I think I'm finally going to be able to do the series of images I've had in mind for about two years now, tracking the training of several everyday Ironman athletes from start to finish. I'm looking to be healthy enough to keep up this time around, without any injuries at the moment. Things are shaping up well for 2009.

swim start

I keep coming back to this as one of my favourite shots that I took in Lake Placid. There are the more representational and literal shots of Amanda that I really enjoy, but I come back to this. It captures some of the serene tranquility of the swim course before the race start. Then there's that mysterious black monolith in the middle.

my second ironman

Update: Amanda posted her race report

My second Ironman. Well, first one watching, but second ironman I've been around. I'm not sure but it might actually be harder to spectate than to participate. At least when you are in the race, you have some control over what happens. Watching and cheering you just have to hope that they keep going.

It all starts around 4am, we all roll out into the car and try to keep Amanda calm. We were staying about 20 minutes from Lake Placid and make it in just before the roads are closed. We drop Amanda off at the transition area and then go to park. We make a bad decision to park in the first lot we come to, really close to the race site. Only a few hours later would I realise that the car was stuck there until midnight when the race finished! We dropped off Amanda's special needs bags and walked over to the swim start. Getting to the site early meant that Amanda breezed through the transition setup and body marking and was ready to go by about 5:30am. Only 90 minutes to go and the weather looks good. I set up camp right by the swim out, up against the barriers, hoping to get some good photos. Amanda suits up to get into the water and we share a last pre-race hug and I wish her good luck. Everyone streams passed me into the water and I get to feel the nerves of an Ironman swim, second-hand.

It is still a pretty darn emotional sight and experience, even at a distance. The canon fires and they are off. About then the rain starts to fall. I huddle over my camera, thinking the rain will probably blow through really quickly. I'd think that for another 13 hours until it did. We all yell and cheer as the first pros scream past us, then the age groupers start to arrive. I see Amanda getting her wetsuit stripped off in front of me and cheer myself hoarse. All the photos are blurry because I forgot to adjust the ISO as the rain fell and the sky darkened. You'd think I'd know better by now. Then she's off and Andy, Kate & I duck out of the rain in a garage forecourt and decide what to do for the next 3.5 hours until Amanda finishes her first bike loop. We find a restaurant serving breakfast and try to dry out a bit. Luckily enough after a few hours and a couple of pots of coffee we are warmed up and realise the bike course is right outside the window. We watch the first, super fast and crazy bikers coming through in the pouring rain and then move out to cheer on Amanda. In the rain (have I mentioned the rain enough yet?)

Then there she is, looking wet but happy, right on schedule. We cheer, Kate is louder than her Mum would be and Amanda is off again on the next loop. I manage to take a couple of blurry pictures and some sharp shots of the back of Amanda and then she is away. Between trying to keep the camera out of the rain and hanging over the barrier to catch a glimpse I'm just not ready and then she's gone.

The rain keeps falling.

Next stop, the Ironman North America merchandise tent, buying warmer clothes and a towel. I'm drenched and it's only about 11am. We get changed under the hatch of the car and walk up to the Lake Placid Pub & Brewery to try out some of the local wheat beer. (Hey, I said this spectating was hard work, right?) We watch Greg Norman trying to win the Open and have fish and chips. Almost dry again - must be time to head out and see Amanda finishing the bike! This time it was a bit drier - still raining, but not quite so heavy and we walk a bit further out along Mirror Lake Drive to see Amanda heading back in to the run start. Some of the faster bikers are already out on the run course and I cheer for a few of the Austin pros that I recognise. None of them look happy - not the usual 100F and sunny weather they are used to (and most of them would suffer in the end as a result).

Then Amanda is passing us. Not looking happy. In fact, looking less happy than I've ever seen her in a race. Glum. Demoralised. It was hard to see. We cheered, and cheered and yelled again, but she looked defeated. We walked towards the transition area and I left Andy and Kate to look for Amanda, almost certain that I wouldn't see her running out of transition. I walked out along the run course, heading further out from town, hoping to see Amanda somewhere out there, but still really not expecting to, after how she looked at the end of the bike course. I check the athlete tracker on my phone and see that Amanda blew through the second transition in 8 minutes. I must have missed her somewhere! I keep walking further out onto the run course and get a couple of miles from town before it really starts raining even more heavily. I beg some spectators to take pity on me and let me stand under their tent for a few minutes until this latest storm clears.

I start talking to the people under the tent and we all join in cheering for the athletes suffering away in the rain. I get a chance to shoot the leading women and eventual winner of the race from there. Still no sign of Amanda though and I'm worried again that the tracker had screwed up or was reporting a false transition time. Then I see a T3 jersey in the distance and Amanda is running along the road, passing people. I get all my new friends in the tent to cheer for her and I run out and trot along beside her for a few minutes. She looked pleased to see me and a bit happier running in the rain, rather than riding in it. Then the rain gets heavier again. I'm back under the tent, wondering how I'm going to get my camera back to town, dry. I hardly even bother taking pictures now, thinking that cheering people on is more important.

I cheer for a few Texas Iron people and start calling out all the names I can see. The racers get two versions of their race number, one with their surname, one with their first name. The people using their first name are a whole lot easier to cheer on. Surnames seem too impersonal when they are suffering so much. People are looking quite shell shocked by now and yelling their name snaps them out of it and occasionally gets a smile. The louder we are, the more happy the runners look so we go all out (and it's a good way to keep warm too!) Amanda comes past again, heading back out on the run and we all cheer and yell for her. I run over and we share a quick kiss and she's off, looking strong and a bit happier.

Finally, the rain clears and I walk back the couple of miles to town in the light drizzle. Back to the Lake Placid Pub & Brewery and surprise, surprise, Kate & Andy are still there! With all the people in Lake Placid, it was surprisingly easy to keep bumping in to people I knew! Another pint and I'm ready to face the rain for the final time, standing on the last hill and bringing Amanda home. Then she's there and Kate & I run (yes run!) up the final hill beside her. I get the impression that Amanda was actually enjoying this crazy Ironman by this point, even though it was about mile 136 by that point. We head over to the Lake Placid speed skating rink (which was the final 200m of the run) and wait to see her bringing it home. Then she's into the home straight and we all high five over the barriers and cheer and then it is all over. The rain had stopped about 20 minutes earlier. 13 hours of rain. 13 hours and 36 minutes of racing. This time Amanda gets to hear Mike Riley announce 'Amanda McGregor - You are an Ironman'.

All that's left is to go find her, tell her how wonderful she did, then mention that we can't leave for another 4 hours! We go back to the pub for a celebratory cold hot dog and cheer the later finishers. I deposit Amanda in the back of the car for a well deserved nap and the rest of us go to watch the people finishing in the last hour of the race. There are a lot of people still there, cheering on the athletes who've worked the longest. There was a real mix of finishers in that last hour. Some who looked to have really struggled. We see the oldest man in the race (71 years old) finishing strong. Others looked like they might have taken a nap for several hours somewhere along the race - far too fresh and fit looking. One unlucky athlete manages to sprint around the final lap, with hundreds of us cheering him on, and cross the line at 17:00.02. 3 seconds past the official finish. A few more finish about 10 seconds after him. A long day to not be considered an official finisher!

Finally, a little more than 20 hours after we all got up, it was over and we could head back to the car and drive home. Quite a day and an amazing effort from Amanda. I am so impressed by her grit and determination, particularly keeping going after such a brutal bike ride and into a wet and cold run. She was awesome! Not the best day for photography but very inspirational all around. I've put more pictures up from the weekend over here.

lake placid

Race prep is going well, Amanda's got all her packs packed, the bike is checked in and we've previewed the course. Kate, Andy and I have planned our viewing strategy, worked out which pubs to be in at what times and we are ready to go, too! The weather has been a mix of thunderstorms, sun, showers, fog and just about everything in between. Forecast for race day is a bit of rain later on in the day but it should be mostly clear for the swim and bike. Temperature is low and it all looks good. Lake Placid village is going crazy, inundated with triathletes and we are lucky enough to be staying a wee bit further out, in Wilmington which is keeping us away from most of the madness.

Should be a great race tomorrow! I've posted some pictures of the pre-race on my flickr account, here. You can hopefully follow Amanda on the athlete tracker (though it can occasionally 'lose' an athlete so don't panic if her times don't update!) Her race number is 2096. There is also live race coverage here and I'll update the twitter feed to the left as and when we see her.

limits. what limits?

For those wondering what Amanda has in store this weekend. A two point four mile swim. One hundred and twelve miles on the bike. Then a marathon.

You can quit. And they don't care. But you will always know.

Ironman USA

This weekend Amanda is doing Ironman USA. It will be her second Ironman and she has had a great season training, really dedicated, hitting all the key workouts and no injuries this time around (unlike me). The course is going to be tougher than Arizona last year but she is ready. I'm excited to be up there, supporting and seeing her putting together a fast, fantastic race!

I'll be taking pictures and also posting updates through the race via twitter, in the feed that's just appeared to the top left of the blog. You can follow along here, or sign up to get those posts on twitter. I'll hopefully post some pictures before and after the race on this blog too.

...and remember Amanda, what would Chopper say?

You can quit, and they won't care, but you'll always know.

He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready

Right here, right now... Fatboy Slim boomed out across the water. 2,000 heads bobbed in the early morning sunlight, ready to get started. After months of training we are right here, right now. The canon fires and the water erupts into a foam of arms and legs. I'm right there in the middle of it; Tarzan swimming, kicking, punching, breathing and surviving. Ironman Arizona 2007 has started. It is going to be a long day.

The swim pretty quickly settled down. I'd heard all the stories of black eyes, goggles getting ripped off and kicks to the head but it didn't feel any worse than a typical age group wave start. The first few hundred meters were a crazy mess of bodies but then it calmed down for me and I settled into a comfortably easy rhythm. No reason to push it yet so I just warmed up slowly. Stroke. Roll. Breathe. Stroke. Roll. Breathe. My hip flexor had been starting to tweak over the last few days of taper and I could feel it when I kicked too hard - not a good sign so early on - but I just got on with it. The turn-around seemed a long way past the far bridge but soon enough I was coming back towards the Mill Avenue bridge and I'd finished the swim. I was pretty happy to have swam 1hr 12min for 2.4 miles - right around where I thought I'd be.

The wet suit strippers did their magic and I was off to transition, running through the throng of cheering supporters. I call out my number and someone hands me my bag. Quickly I find myself inside the frantic mess of the transition tent. I work my way to a quieter corner and find a chair to sit on, start going through my bag. Sunscreen, bike shorts, top, sunglasses, shoes and helmet on and I'm ready to go back out to the sunlight and noise. I step out of the tent and get more sunscreen applied and then run in my bike shoes to get my bike. Someone yells my number through a loud hailer and a volunteer gets my bike for me. This is a full service event! We have it easy - all we have to do is swim, bike & run for a while - someone else is always dealing with the logistics. I jump on my bike and ride out to the course. I hear Amy Ewert cheering for me right as I leave on the bike - so many people out here that I know, such great support.

Out on the bike course I settle in for the long haul. I'm expecting to take a bit over 6 hours but I want to start out easy and not push too hard. The temptation is certainly there. The bad thing about being a faster than average swimmer is that most of the fast bikers are behind you and spend the whole ride passing you. But that's just a case of keeping the ego in check and racing your own race. So people pass me and I spin along at 100 rpms, feeling okay, starting to eat, drinking a bit and feeling great. I get to the turn around point and I'm still feeling like I'm flying easily. Then I turn around and find out why. For some reason I never notice a strong breeze when it is helping me - but you sure notice it when it is right in your face! 20 mph sustained winds with gusts up to 35 mph had really helped me on the first half, but not on the way back! I just struggled along with everyone else, finishing the first loop and still feeling great. I'd trained for this, a bit of wind wasn't too much of a worry. At one point a helicopter appeared over a mesa, from out of nowhere. One minute I'm in a quiet desert, then there's the roar of the chopper. Flying low, following the leaders, it was just another indication that this wasn't just another triathlon - this was the big one and I was right in the middle of it.

I was playin in the beginnin, the mood all changed

About 3 hours into the ride I realised that I hadn't needed to pee at any point. My stomach was feeling bloated which for some reason I'd taken as meaning I was drinking too much - but the problem was exactly the opposite - I was getting way behind on my hydration. Luckily I realised that, along with how much slower I was suddenly going and I really started drinking a whole lot more. Nuun, electrolytes, 2 bottles of water every 10 miles. But the damage had been done by that point. I was getting slower and slower but feeling like I was trying harder and harder. Not much I could do about it but keep drinking. and drinking. and drinking. Soon I was stopping at every water stop to pee, but still drinking and trying to get back on top of things. The end of the second loop was windier again, dust clouds were starting to obscure the course and the tumbleweeds were on the march. I saw a few blow across the course, 4 feet wide and moving fast. Some poor guy blocked one for me and got knocked off his bike for his trouble. Somehow I made it back through town and headed on my third bike loop.

It only grows harder, only grows hotter

This time around it was getting really windy. Close to the start of the loop, 5 metal signs with sandbags slid across the course towards me, then crashed down a few feet away. Another gust pushed me sideways across an entire lane, before I could even react. Things were starting to get interesting! I rode with the wind at my back for the next 15 miles, letting it push me along, still trying to get on top of my hydration as the day got hotter. Just after the turn around I passed my friend Laurie Curry and said 'Can you believe it, we are doing an Ironman!' she grinned back at me and rode on. It was great to see people I'd trained with doing so well - all through the bike I saw training partners plugging away, moving through the field. We'd cheer for each other and it really helped keep the focus and motivation going on a tough day.

The ride back to transition didn't seem too bad, even though at one point I was struggling to go at 14 mph - downhill. But eventually I made it back, through the cheering crowds, off the bike at the dismount line without falling and my bike was whisked away. One hundred and twelve miles done, 6 hours and 53 minutes later I hobbled through transition (nothing so grand as running this time) and grabbed my next bag. I saw Chris Sellers helping out at the transition tent and he took charge and got me organised. Getting the gear out of my bag, setting me up to get running. Once again out of the tent and off to the run course - just a marathon to go.

So here I go is my shot. Feet fail me not cuz maybe the only opportunity that I got

Twenty six point two miles to go. I checked my watch and realised I had nine hours before the course was closed. I could walk. I could probably even crawl it in that time. I just had to hold it together and I would finish. I started trying to run. The hip flexor that had been sore was complaining more loudly now. I couldn't do much more than walk. So I decided not to push it, at least for the first mile. Keep walking, keep moving. I'd run a bit when it was flat, walk up the slopes, jog the downhills and just try and not hurt myself any more. I was taking iced water at every stop, still trying to get the hydration back on track but I was still feeling tired after the bike. About a mile in I set my watch to beep every minute. Run a minute. Walk a minute. Run a minute. Walk a minute. I'd keep making this deal with myself, keep it going. Your mind starts playing strange tricks on days like this. I'd be running along (slowly) thinking 'okay, nothing hurts, I feel good, I don't feel tired, I can keep running this pace, keep it going'. Then I'd realise I was walking. No good reason, but I couldn't make myself run. Obviously my body is more sane than my mind. But over time, my mind won out. I'd run more, walk less. I kept drinking, filling my bottle with Gatorade which perked me up some more. I'd brought 10 Gu shots with me for food. I tried one and almost threw it up - that wasn't going to work! So I switched to plan G (I'd already used up plan B on the swim, plan C, D, E & F on the bike. Ironman is about dealing with things as they happen - so have lots of plans and stick to them. Any of them) and started scavenging on the course. Cookies were okay. Grapes, not so good. Jolly ranchers were fantastic! Anything and everything I could keep down with calories in them. Nine Gu packs bounced along on my back for the rest of the race, unwanted and ignored.

I saw my brother at the end of the first loop on the run, 9 miles in to the marathon. He'd flown out from Scotland for work and decided to drop by to watch Amanda & I. He said later he didn't quite realise the scope of what I was trying to do, until he got there. It was great to see him and I picked it up and ran some more.

You get a couple of race numbers, one with your first name and one with your surname. I'd decided to wear my first name and it was great. People would call out your name and lie to you at any opportunity. 'Looking good, Gordon' 'Looking strong, Gordon' 'Looking fast, Gordon' all lies, but certainly appreciated! I saw Amanda as she came back from her second loop. We stopped and hugged and then she was off - looking good, looking strong, looking fast. Some time on the second loop the chicken broth appeared at the water stops and I tried it. Chicken soup has never tasted as good! I'm not sure it goes too well with Gatorade, but I drank them along side for the next 13 miles.

Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity

To seize everything you ever wanted-One moment

Would you capture it or just let it slip?

Somehow, someway I made it back to the transition area and headed out on my last lap. Looking at my watch I realised that if I ran this loop I could finish just under 14 hours. It was possible, but it would require some work. The previous two loops had taken me more than 1 hour and 50 minutes per loop, but I needed to do this one in about 1 hour and 40 minutes. Certainly possible with fresh legs. But now ? So I started running. Really running. Well, shuffling faster than I had been. It was starting to get dark by this point, the sun had set on the lonely Western stretch of my second loop. The field had thinned out as many people had finished, though some hardy souls were still just heading out on their second loop, heading for 16+ hour finishes or DNFs. Each time I passed someone, I pushed a bit faster trying to get to the line under 14. I focused on that idea and picked it up. I remembered an answer Peter Reid had given when asked about the deep, insightful thoughts he has during his Ironman-winning marathon runs. He said all he does is count his steps. So I counted my steps. 1... One foot after the other, 2... focusing on my cadence, 3... tapping out a rhythm with my feet, 4... running through the falling light. I was handed a glow stick to light me up and I wrapped it around my arm. I kept counting my steps. Running now, feeling finally good. One hundred and thirty miles after that swim start, I felt I'd finally warmed up and was flying. I was going to finish! I kept passing people. People who looked lost, walking almost aimlessly. Sitting on the kerb, head in hands. I passed people throwing up. I passed people walking. I kept counting my steps. I passed Jim Opre, that I'd trained with, and traded some lies with him 'Looking strong, Gordon', 'Looking good, Jim'. Finally another competitor caught me and passed me on the windiest stretch of the course. I fell in step behind him and drafted for all I was worth. We went back and forth like that for the final 4 miles.

He better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him

Close to the finish now, I saw a big hat that I recognised. Ralph Stanley was up ahead and we congratulated each other - only a mile to go. I was going to finish! I tried to pick it up a bit more and run through to the finish line. Just before the final hill I caught up with Jim Curry, about to start his final loop. He had a long way to go but plenty of time to get there. I ran up onto the bridge and across down to the finish line. One last time past the best support you could hope for, from Nancy & Karen. I could hear the announcer for the people finishing just in front of me, then suddenly I was out of the darkness and quiet and into the noise and light of the finish shoot. I high-fived some spectators and ran for the line. I could vaguely hear 'Gordon McGregor - You are an Ironman!' but somehow I can't remember much at all about finishing. Just a huge sense of relief! Chris Sellers was again at the finish and it was great to see a friendly face. He caught me and guided me through the finish, t-shirt, medal and bake-o-foil blanket on. I looked back over my shoulder and saw 13:53. I'd made it well under the 14 hours. My last loop was 1hr 42, 14 minutes faster than the previous loop. What sort of idiot negative splits the marathon in an Ironman ? Then I was out to see my brother and to congratulate all the other great T3 athletes that finished.

32 of us started. 32 of us finished. A huge achievement on a day when over 10% of those who started dropped out. 3000 people signed up for the race. Of those, 2461 were still registered by race week and issued with numbers. 2068 actually got into the water on the Sunday, to start. 2066 finished the swim. 1860 finished the whole race before the 17 hour cut-off. 13 of the 43 professionals in the race dropped out. I finished and everyone from T3 finished too. What a day!

SWIM	BIKE	RUN	OVERALL	POSITION
1:12:35	6:53:35	5:30:32	13:52:34	1224

So here I am writing this, almost exactly a week later. This time, seven days ago, I'd be enjoying the beautiful blue lake and lights of the bridge in the gathering dark. The water that had been so murky and brown in the morning was a deep, tranquil blue, reflecting the twilight sky. It was a peaceful moment in the middle of such a hectic day. Made it all worthwhile. With the lights strung across the bridge and the desert sky above, I counted my steps and realised how lucky I was to be out there, doing this race, finding out what I can achieve when I just put my mind to it. Ironman isn't so much about the physical achievement, it's about the commitment. Committing to a goal that's bigger than you. Doing the training. Riding in the rain and thunder for six hours to Shiner, Texas. Running the 3M half marathon from the finish to the start line, then back again from start to finish. Freezing on a long, wet, cold ride out Fitzhugh Rd but finishing it strong. Swimming when the deck had ice forming on it. Getting out of bed on those cold, wet days. 3 hour rides on the trainer, watching Indiana Jones to stop us going insane. Lap after lap of Barton Springs. Running the damn dam loop on Town Lake one more time, then once more again. 100 mile rides out in Manor, getting chased by dogs and almost throwing up for messing up the nutrition. Finishing 20 mile runs that I wasn't even sure I could start. Turning up, day after day, month after month. Being consistent and being out there with Amanda. I'd never have finished without her and without all the other T3'ers that got us through. You can read Amanda's view of the race. So what's next ? A half-ironman in St Croix in 2008, maybe Ironman New Zealand in 2009. Lots of options. The first one is the hardest!

You can do anything you set your mind to

- Lose Yourself. Eminem

Vineman Half-ironman 2005 race report

We did it!

Amanda & I both finished and finished well. I got in just under 14 hours and still felt good. All 32 people from T3 that we trained with finished, on a really tough, windy day when 10% of the people who started, dropped out. We did it!