Race Reports

Well I thought getting up for the Aquathlon was early.. 04:00 alarm call and I was staying 5 miles from transition, this was closing at 06:30 so quite an early start.

I approached this race quite confidant after having a good race the previous Sunday at Crowborough where I came 2^nd in my age group and quite a good Worlds Aquathlon on the Wednesday, 50^th in the world for my AG. My injuries were also staying calm so it looks like it could be a great day and hanging around in the Irish team tent was great fun.

I met up with Rachael who was also racing i'm sure she was blue with the cold so we went off to find some rays of sun. Unfortunately we had been informed that the swim was to be cut to 750m so as a good swimmer I was disappointed especially as it was nice and warm when i started but to be fair to them the decision was made at 07:00 when the air temp was 8 degrees.

I've learnt my lesson from the Aquathlon and pick my swim slot carefully, in the team briefing we were told no punching as the kayakers will be watching. I get a great clean start no congestion and race to the first buoy (250m) with no incidents and I'm just off the back of the lead pack. I'm approaching another buoy and a guy is trying to knock me off my line, it's a good line and I want it so we bounce off each other for a few strokes then I catch his eye and I know there is a punch coming, sure enough it lands, my goggles stay on but fill with water, no issues I still have time to take my vengeance and leave him in my wake, it's good to practice with full goggles as once you get used to it it's not that bad. I have a last 300m sprint with a few guys and come out of the water just in front of them so quite a good swim.

The run to transition is long and goes on forever T1 - 03:44 the longest to date (my last Ironman one was 03:37), Wow the roars of the crowds are amazing 3-4 deep on both sides. I'm in my national Irish kit so get loads of "Go on Ireland". You set off at a great pace to start the first lap which goes around most of the park then out into London on closed roads, again all lined with people shouting and cheering, the crowds are mostly concentrated within the park and are very enthusiastic. I spot Kay, my sister and her lad and some friends from the Midlands they are waving the Irish flag for me. Next I spot the Goodheads with their big smiles and cheers it really spurs you on, out into London on what is an iconic route unfortunately I'm a bit blinkered and don't see most of it, I am supposed to be racing after all, I go past the palace and notice the flag is up, I wonder if Queenie is watching me. Snapped out of that train of thought by a roar from Tim and Claire.

Bit more effort as there is a murderous headwind and for a supposedly flat course it's quite hard, a quick rant with a bunch of 15 drafters pointing out that they might as well be drug cheats, the course loops back down the Mall and I spot Phil Couch marshalling and he gives me a big cheer. The Bike route was great just a shame I didn't get to see much but to ride around London at those speeds is something very special you don't get to do often.

One issue I have is with irresponsible dog owners, I am myself a dog owner and if I am near a road I put my dog on a lead especially if there is a bike race going past. Im on a slight downhill in Hyde Park doing around 27mph on my tri bars and I spot a loose dog.. Tour de France style I think, sure enough out onto the road in front of me he trots, if I hit it its bad for both of us. I can't break or slow down so I let out a big roar that luckily scares the dog to a stand still, and probably everyone else around, I swerve and miss it by an inch or two, seconds later I see a marshal running up to that position hopefully to have ago at that idiot owner.

Back to transition, I opted to get off my bike unusually with my shoes on as it's a long muddy transition and we are not allowed a towel to clean our feet. i have to run up what feels like a mountain, again its a very long run in transition before we can head to our rack the bike. T2 - 04:08 again a record (my last Ironman one was 03:33).

Now my nemesis the run, its only 3 laps to make up the 10km. When I started down this world championship road my target was 40mins or less for the run, with the injuries that had to change to a conservative 45mins still a good goal.

The run start was just as amazing as the bike start, all the cheers just made you smile and feel great, I must have high 5 everyone in the first mile. I spot Rob and Ben Hoodless again big smiles and shouts of encouragement also Kay and my family. I don't think my feet touched the ground in that first lap even at the top of what was quite a sharp hill and trust the Goodheads to be there at the top high 5's at the ready. Onto the second lap still going well getting carried along on the wave of encouragement. Needless to say that around 6km my smiles stopped.

The blue carpet of the finish chute comes into vision then the line ,I cross happy in the knowledge that its all over. Now where's the pub.

What a great day and even better week the honour of racing for your country twice in a week and the amazing amount of support not only from my family and MSTC but also the general public its something that will stay with me for years.

Swim  - 00:12:06

T1      - 00:03:44 

Bike   - 01:14:15

T2      - 00:04:08 

Run   - 00:53:34 

Total - 02:27:45

70.3 - Half Ironman:  Zell-A-See, Austria, Sun 1st Sept 2013
 
Training gone well for the finale, my first half iron man, the 70.30 Austria.
 
The last three months swimming and cycling came on leaps and bounds since I  joined  the MSTC with their coaching and help from other club members.  Open water swimming, new and much enjoyed, albeit after a little trepidation!
 
Arrived 29th August in stunning Zell-Am-See so had three days to orientate ourselves with warm and sunny weather.
 
Spent some time finding our bearings, finding Transition point and the more important, Finishing line.  Cycled around the lake to get a real feel of the land.
 
Finally, race day:-  Rained  through the night and all through the swim and cycle, but did stop for the run!
 
Had a great swim and cycle but blew out on the run.  But very happy overall with my result, better than I could have wished for:-
 
Swim:  00:36:35
Bike:   02:56:39
Run:   02:22:30
 
Total:  06:10:51
 
Would highly recommend this venue for a 70.3 race for achieving a PB as bike section not too hilly and a flat run.
 
Jason Cole

Pre-Race

Got a late entry to IM Wales via Nirvana Travel. A triathlon addict's impulsive last minute decision to race. Paid only a small premium for getting a place this way after the race had sold out. Would use Nirvana again if need be, because the package included a great hotel (a stone's throw from race start) and free cancellation insurance. The Nirvana rep organized a cycle course tour by car with a local cyclist as a guide.

Everything (Hotels, Expo, Registration, Briefing, Transition, Swim) is in one place at Tenby. Straightforward drive from Sussex. Totally hassle-free. The locals are super-friendly and take great pride in hosting the race.

The Swim

Near perfect conditions with calm relatively warm waters in the beautiful Bay. Mass beach start then an unfussy 2 lap swim, punctuated by a short dash along the beach between laps.

The run to T1 is 1.3km through the centre of Tenby. Longest transition run of all ironman races. An extra transition bag for shoes is racked at swim exit in order to do this 1.3km run. Last year an elite competitor lost his Kona slot because he handed his wetsuit to his girlfriend on the way to T1 and therefore got DQ'd after he had finished the race.

The Cycle

Very scenic ride on mostly closed roads in a coastal National Park. Some opportunities to make the most of a TT bike during the first 50 miles, but after that the course is particularly hilly and technical with some very steep winding downhills. My brakes were inadequate in the wet on those steep sections, so lots of time was lost by having to be over cautious.

Biggest mistake of the day was leaving my nice warm jacket in T1. It rained several times during the ride and by mile 50, I was freezing and shaking uncontrollably. To have accepted outside assistance might have risked a DQ. Fortunately, I discovered that I had got a plastic cape in my pocket (as you do), so I put it on to get warm. Ruined the aerodynamics somewhat. During the ride, I heard onlookers shout "go batman". After the race, I heard people chatting about a cyclist wearing a bin bag who had become known as "the bubble".

Tenby has a "heartbreak hill" that is almost as good for crowd support as Challenge Roth. Tenby has half the competitors and less than half the crowd numbers but the vibe is superb.

The Run

Barely a flat section on the four lap course. Lots of lively crowd support through the town, passing pubs and hotels. Plenty of walking uphill and running downhill. Good banter between athletes and plenty of switchbacks to keep spotting people. Lots to take one's mind off the usual drudgery of the ironman run. Ideal cool temperatures and dry conditions for this part of the race. Got a bit confused at the end of the third lap and took a wrong turn towards the finish line. Had to double-back a few hundred metres to restart the fourth lap. Great joy visiting the finish for the second and final time.

Results

• 20 DQ'd for dropping litter
• 10 DQ'd for drafting
• 4 DQ'd for failing to serve a penalty

Not a fast time for me (almost 2 hours slower than my Lanzarote effort a few months earlier). Not surprising, considering the neglect of training during 3 weeks backpacking in Sri Lanka (got home just in time to taper 2 weeks before IM Wales).

Loved the race and loved the location. Usually, as I cross the finish line I swear I'll never do another ironman. This time I immediately rebooked the hotel for next year and paid the registration fee as soon as entry came on-line a few days later. Upgraded brakes and a warm cycling jacket should make Tenby 2014 even better.

Rank:25

Overall Rank:582

Jim "Bubble" Graham

The race is a 1km swim and a 5km run.

05:00 the start of what was going to be a great day except for the 05:00 alarm call. Its great doing aquathlons as you only have a wetsuit and trainers to sort out, but this does make transition very strange, only a set of trainers in there nothing to set up nothing to tinker with..... and how do you find your trainers amongst 1500 other pairs.....
 
My start was 10:10. ITU rules are in the water 30 secs before the horn and you have to have one hand holding the pontoon. I take up my usual position of the centre line which is the most direct route but quite a lot have the same idea and its a bit cramped, unlike deep water starts you cant make space for yourself, there we are my chest tight against some other guys back and some other guys chest against my back a bit snug you might say.
 
This is going to be a proper bun fight, I quite like a start like that as it fires you up. Wow the klaxon went and I got proper mullered. I have been in starts with 3000+ guys and it was not as bad as this, pure white water fists, heads, feet really bad then bang I take a full on hit to the right temple which moves my goggles to my forehead... I take another at the first turn again shifting my goggles, on both occasions I manage to get them back in place without stopping but after the third time I thought bugger it don't bother, they stayed in place but were full of water. I had to remind myself that the main thing was to focus on what I was doing and not panic, yea not panic just focus. It worked, although I couldn't see where I was going I made the last 500m without too much issue.

Out of the water in under 16 mins not too bad, the problem now was finding my trainers amongst 1500 other pairs.

Lungs are burning and I realise how hard it is to run after the swim, I pull the pace back and control my breathing and heart rate, it works after a 1km I start to settle into a 4:30 per km pace. The run is great although hard as I have only had about 3 runs in the past few months but my body starts to remember what it has to do.

This was a great day everyone I met was chatty and friendly and it was an honour to compete for Ireland and hang out in the Irish athlete tent situated opposite the GB who by far has the most athletes there, it also worked as a great recky for the Standard distance on Sunday.

Swim 15:53
T1 01:03
Run 22:49

Total 00:39:44 this puts me in 50^th AG place

Steve Mac

This tale begins many years ago on a dark stormy night (OK, that last bit was poetic license) when I was a small boy watching a television programme about Jim Peters and his dramatic collapse at the end of the 1954 Empire Games. For those who do not know Jim Peters was expected to win this event for England despite the midday Melbourne heat. He had a lead of 3 1/2 miles going into the stadium but had become dehydrated and confused, collapsing with 400 yards to go (it was before metric existed). Thinking his rival was close behind he got up and staggered on with the capacity crowd roaring him forward. With only 200 yards to go he collapsed again and was unable to finish the race to take the gold medal.
        
I was overwhelmed by the courage and determination of this runner. Ever since I have harboured an admiration of endurance feats in all sport and exploration.
        
Up until my 30's this admiration took a very passive form (drinking, driving, eating - and not all at the same time) but a gentle introduction to cycling enabled me to really feel what it must be like to push your body and mind to its' limits. As I came to love cycling and racing I had the opportunity to see how I could perform. The "race of truth" is the name given to time trialling and it is a very simple, pure test of man and machine against time. No one to draft behind and no team tactics.
        
Initially I was content with 10 mile and 25 mile time trials but I hankered for something more. 100 miles - not quite enough. 12 hours to see how far you can go? Now that is a test of endurance.
        
So, in my "prime" I became something of an expert at these managing to come 3rd in the National Championships twice and recording 276.5 miles at my best.
        
Then came mortgage, job responsibilities and (happily) family. With these came a lack of opportunity to ride 300 miles a week in training and an age related slowing down.
        
To counteract this trend I discovered triathlon (or more precisely a bunch of triathletes at the Dolphin bar) and a new world of extreme pain and suffering opened itself up. As someone who didn't learn to swim until I was 26 I was surprised to find myself able to take on and complete an ironman.
        
OK, you are asking what an earth has this got do with Zombies - let me explain.
        
If you were at the club middle distance triathlon (or indeed within 20 miles of Ardingly) you may have heard an unearthly rumbling emanating from the region of my rear. It was not the after effects of "Friday night is curry night" but an unfortunate puncture of my tyre on the downhill off camber descent into Turners Hill. Of course I had no repair kit with me. Not thinking very clearly I decided to try to ride on hoping to make it around the course and complete the race. I soon got used to the bump, bump thud of the flat tyre and the unpredictable handling and was able to continue at a moderate speed by keeping out of the saddle. I even became quite adept at controlling the rear wheel slide that occurred when I strayed off the crown of the road. However by Balcombe the noise had changed to a deep metallic rumble and the handling was now non existent and terrifying. I stopped to take a look and wished I hadn't. The tyre had completely disintegrated with the sidewalls entirely missing and a small strip of rubber nesting between the aluminium sidewalls of the rim.
        
I am not sure if you have tried riding on two 3mm bits of shiny metal but I can inform you of two notable characteristics of this technique - you can't get much traction to move forward and you cant get much traction to stop the bike going sideways. These weren't desirable attributes particularly on the descent towards the viaduct and just as undesirable on the ascent after the viaduct. Happily I needn't have worried too much as my inner tube decided that the steepest section of the uphill by Copyhold Lane was the right place to wrap itself around the axle, seize the wheel and throw me into the hedgerow. Emerging from the shrubbery I took another glance at my £1000 Zipp disc wheel and realised that the rim and braking surface had been more than somewhat abraded by the top quality road surfaces that grace our part of the world (as Austin Powers would say -  it was "totally shagged").
        
I freed up the wheel as best I could and reluctantly teetered the quickest route back to transition along Copyhold Lane to limit any further damage.
        
After I finished the run I was greeted by hoots of derision and mockery as my wheel had become a source of fascination to spectators and competitors alike in my absence.
        
Telling everyone that I had a 12 hour time trial the next weekend and had no back wheel just compounded the ridicule. Mentioning that my new bike was fitted with a special aerodynamic spares storage box and it was empty didn't help matters. And I really shouldn't have said that I had just sold my only suitable spare wheel.
        
With no forthcoming offers of a loan ringing in my ears I went home and sadly dismembered my pride and joy. My Zipp was dead.
        
Or was it....
        
Scouring the internet for bargain or second hand discs revealed a dearth of wheels meeting my criteria - round and less than £500. An e-mail to Zipp suggested a repair price of £800.  So I took a very good look at old Zippy. Whilst the delicate aluminium rim had definitely been comprehensively reprofiled it seemed that not much metal had been lost. Realising that I had little to lose, I set about a 4 hour marathon of filing and sanding by hand. Doing this by hand gave me a very good idea of how thin the aluminium was and how sharp the edges were. Too much sanding would have left the rim too weak to hold the tyre on and too little would have left sharp edges that would destroy the tyre. At 2am I went to bed dreaming of exploding tyres and man eating wheels. Zipp had been raised from the dead. Zipp the Zombie wheel lives.
        
Never one to let inadequate preparation get in the way of racing I only reassembled my bike and pumped up Zippy to (nearly) full pressure the day before my 12 hour race. As nothing gave way immediately I decided to go to bed and was slightly comforted by the knowledge that Steve (A) had loaned, against good advice, his tri-spoke as a spare.
        
Race day started in the usual way - pitch blackness, sense of dread, last minute carbo-loading (which for me was 3 bits of toast with peanut butter and bananas and a slice of cake at the HQ), getting lost en-route to the HQ and remembering what you had forgotten to bring just when it is too late to turn around and get it. In my case I had forgotten to bring the spare back wheel.
        
I opted for a modest 120psi as I readied my bike for the race. I had no support crew for the first 3 hours and had taped various bits of food to myself and my bike with 1.5 litres of High 5 to keep me going. However, the real limiting factor would be the afterlife of Zipp the Zombie wheel. Would it last 12 second, 12 minutes or 12 hours? Anything less than 12 hours would mean a DNF.
        
You may wonder what the state of mind is as you start a 12 hour and I think this is critical to how you manage your physical and psychological state as the day progresses. I viewed this as a nice day of training at a moderate pace and if I got tired I could always take it easy or stop for a rest.
        
You may also wonder about the logistics of a 12 hour race where the result depends on measuring how far you travel in this time (obviously any time you spend off the bike will mean less miles)? It is very cleverly organised so that all riders complete 3 or 4 different circuits of 10-30 miles before ending up on a "finishing" circuit. This circuit has timekeepers every mile or so with a spotter who identifies the rider number. When you have reached the timekeeper just after your 12 hours are up you can stop. Your mileage is worked out by adding the numbers of laps you did of the first circuits, the number of laps you did of the finishing circuit and the number of timekeepers you passed on your last lap and a calculation of the distance you covered between the two final two timekeepers (the one you passed just before 12 hours and the one you passed just after 12 hours who you may have kissed for telling you to stop).
        
Like all time trials, riders start at minute intervals. Out of the 72 competitors I was number 70 and was soon enjoying the countryside around Ashford and Rye. After a couple of hours I had almost stopped worrying about Zipp and was buoyed by the sight of helper at 10am. Helpers are allowed to hand you food and drink but must not follow behind you, hand up supplies on the move or overtake you more than once every 10 miles so we decided to have a set point on each circuit where I would expect to see my helper. This reduced the amount of driving he would do and meant I would know where I could get any assistance I needed.
        
Being such a long event means you get to see a lot of the marshals, riders and their helpers and I made a point of greeting them all. After a while you can sense where you are in relation to other riders. I had managed to catch all but 2 of the riders and had been caught by the last man off (the favourite, last years winner, Andy Miles) by 120 miles and was pleased that Zipp was holding up well and, apart from an increasingly sore undercarriage, I was holding up pretty well too. This was a nice surprise as my training had consisted of getting shingles, not training and then doing the club middle distance race. Of course a lot could happen in the next 7 hours. With 6 hours to go I stopped for my first wee (probably setting some sort of record for time and volume). At 5 hours to go I recaught number 72 and left him trailing. Even with my diminished mental functioning I knew this meant I was in 3rd or possibly better. Reaching the finishing circuit at 200 miles my helper informed me that I may be first or second as I stopped again to relieve myself over my own foot. This was possibly where things started to unfold. I stopped being focussed on staying hydrated and thought more about keeping my stops to a minimum to maintain my position. I was also becoming increasingly unable to sit on my saddle as it was the first time I had used it and it wasn't proving as comfy as the manufacturer claimed. At 215 miles I went to take a bottle on board but dropped its contents over my knees. This had 2 consequences of note. The first was that I would have ridden 50 miles without a drink and the second was that I had become a wasp magnet. I noticed the wasp just a little too late and it was probably the sting that alerted me to its presence. In trying to brush it off I managed to get another two stings and watched in dismay as my knee started to swell and become really stiff. I guess I should be pleased that I didn't spill it over my shorts!
        
I could sense my slowing and by the time I had stopped for a drink I had lost any ability to try and push on. I then managed to lose my chain twice necessitating more stops and, more importantly, one of my tribar pads. This left me unable to put my arm in an aero position as there was just that really hard, bristly Velcro and a protruding bolt to rest on. Now I was really up against it mentally but the happy appearance of Daniel, Daisy and Alice (my long suffering family who had come out for the last hour) made me determined to finish.
        
As the sun started to set and the breeze drop I enjoyed my last lap at a leisurely pace along the scenic leafy lanes and said a last thank you to the crowds (yes, really), marshals and timekeepers. My 12 hours elapsed and I coasted to a grateful halt with my family and helpers not far behind.
        
Back at the HQ there was a lavish selection of food and many stories of individual adventure and endurance being shared amongst our community of long distance lunatics. As the timekeepers reported their findings and mileages were put onto the results board it seemed I had managed 3rd place and a total of 258 and a bit miles.
        
As I wearily packed my bike back into the car I am sure that Zippy gave me a knowing wink. Yes Zippy the Zombie wheel lives on, and I was the grateful dead.
        

Loz Wintergold

        
This tale begins many years ago on a dark stormy night (OK, that last bit was poetic license) when I was a small boy watching a television programme about Jim Peters and his dramatic collapse at the end of the 1954 Empire Games. For those who do not know Jim Peters was expected to win this event for England despite the midday Melbourne heat. He had a lead of 3 1/2 miles going into the stadium but had become dehydrated and confused, collapsing with 400 yards to go (it was before metric existed). Thinking his rival was close behind he got up and staggered on with the capacity crowd roaring him forward. With only 200 yards to go he collapsed again and was unable to finish the race to take the gold medal.
        
I was overwhelmed by the courage and determination of this runner. Ever since I have harboured an admiration of endurance feats in all sport and exploration.

        
Up until my 30's this admiration took a very passive form (drinking, driving, eating - and not all at the same time) but a gentle introduction to cycling enabled me to really feel what it must be like to push your body and mind to its' limits. As I came to love cycling and racing I had the opportunity to see how I could perform. The "race of truth" is the name given to time trialling and it is a very simple, pure test of man and machine against time. No one to draft behind and no team tactics.
        
Initially I was content with 10 mile and 25 mile time trials but I hankered for something more. 100 miles - not quite enough. 12 hours to see how far you can go? Now that is a test of endurance.
        
So, in my "prime" I became something of an expert at these managing to come 3rd in the National Championships twice and recording 276.5 miles at my best.
        
Then came mortgage, job responsibilities and (happily) family. With these came a lack of opportunity to ride 300 miles a week in training and an age related slowing down.
        
To counteract this trend I discovered triathlon (or more precisely a bunch of triathletes at the Dolphin bar) and a new world of extreme pain and suffering opened itself up. As someone who didn't learn to swim until I was 26 I was surprised to find myself able to take on and complete an ironman.
        
OK, you are asking what an earth has this got do with Zombies - let me explain.
        
If you were at the club middle distance triathlon (or indeed within 20 miles of Ardingly) you may have heard an unearthly rumbling emanating from the region of my rear. It was not the after effects of "Friday night is curry night" but an unfortunate puncture of my tyre on the downhill off camber descent into Turners Hill. Of course I had no repair kit with me. Not thinking very clearly I decided to try to ride on hoping to make it around the course and complete the race. I soon got used to the bump, bump thud of the flat tyre and the unpredictable handling and was able to continue at a moderate speed by keeping out of the saddle. I even became quite adept at controlling the rear wheel slide that occurred when I strayed off the crown of the road. However by Balcombe the noise had changed to a deep metallic rumble and the handling was now non existent and terrifying. I stopped to take a look and wished I hadn't. The tyre had completely disintegrated with the sidewalls entirely missing and a small strip of rubber nesting between the aluminium sidewalls of the rim.
        
I am not sure if you have tried riding on two 3mm bits of shiny metal but I can inform you of two notable characteristics of this technique - you can't get much traction to move forward and you cant get much traction to stop the bike going sideways. These weren't desirable attributes particularly on the descent towards the viaduct and just as undesirable on the ascent after the viaduct. Happily I needn't have worried too much as my inner tube decided that the steepest section of the uphill by Copyhold Lane was the right place to wrap itself around the axle, seize the wheel and throw me into the hedgerow. Emerging from the shrubbery I took another glance at my £1000 Zipp disc wheel and realised that the rim and braking surface had been more than somewhat abraded by the top quality road surfaces that grace our part of the world (as Austin Powers would say -  it was "totally shagged").
        
I freed up the wheel as best I could and reluctantly teetered the quickest route back to transition along Copyhold Lane to limit any further damage.
        
After I finished the run I was greeted by hoots of derision and mockery as my wheel had become a source of fascination to spectators and competitors alike in my absence.
        
Telling everyone that I had a 12 hour time trial the next weekend and had no back wheel just compounded the ridicule. Mentioning that my new bike was fitted with a special aerodynamic spares storage box and it was empty didn't help matters. And I really shouldn't have said that I had just sold my only suitable spare wheel.
        
With no forthcoming offers of a loan ringing in my ears I went home and sadly dismembered my pride and joy. My Zipp was dead.
        
Or was it....
        
Scouring the internet for bargain or second hand discs revealed a dearth of wheels meeting my criteria - round and less than £500. An e-mail to Zipp suggested a repair price of £800.  So I took a very good look at old Zippy. Whilst the delicate aluminium rim had definitely been comprehensively reprofiled it seemed that not much metal had been lost. Realising that I had little to lose, I set about a 4 hour marathon of filing and sanding by hand. Doing this by hand gave me a very good idea of how thin the aluminium was and how sharp the edges were. Too much sanding would have left the rim too weak to hold the tyre on and too little would have left sharp edges that would destroy the tyre. At 2am I went to bed dreaming of exploding tyres and man eating wheels. Zipp had been raised from the dead. Zipp the Zombie wheel lives.
        
Never one to let inadequate preparation get in the way of racing I only reassembled my bike and pumped up Zippy to (nearly) full pressure the day before my 12 hour race. As nothing gave way immediately I decided to go to bed and was slightly comforted by the knowledge that Steve (A) had loaned, against good advice, his tri-spoke as a spare.
        
Race day started in the usual way - pitch blackness, sense of dread, last minute carbo-loading (which for me was 3 bits of toast with peanut butter and bananas and a slice of cake at the HQ), getting lost en-route to the HQ and remembering what you had forgotten to bring just when it is too late to turn around and get it. In my case I had forgotten to bring the spare back wheel.
        
I opted for a modest 120psi as I readied my bike for the race. I had no support crew for the first 3 hours and had taped various bits of food to myself and my bike with 1.5 litres of High 5 to keep me going. However, the real limiting factor would be the afterlife of Zipp the Zombie wheel. Would it last 12 second, 12 minutes or 12 hours? Anything less than 12 hours would mean a DNF.
        
You may wonder what the state of mind is as you start a 12 hour and I think this is critical to how you manage your physical and psychological state as the day progresses. I viewed this as a nice day of training at a moderate pace and if I got tired I could always take it easy or stop for a rest.
        
You may also wonder about the logistics of a 12 hour race where the result depends on measuring how far you travel in this time (obviously any time you spend off the bike will mean less miles)? It is very cleverly organised so that all riders complete 3 or 4 different circuits of 10-30 miles before ending up on a "finishing" circuit. This circuit has timekeepers every mile or so with a spotter who identifies the rider number. When you have reached the timekeeper just after your 12 hours are up you can stop. Your mileage is worked out by adding the numbers of laps you did of the first circuits, the number of laps you did of the finishing circuit and the number of timekeepers you passed on your last lap and a calculation of the distance you covered between the two final two timekeepers (the one you passed just before 12 hours and the one you passed just after 12 hours who you may have kissed for telling you to stop).
        
Like all time trials, riders start at minute intervals. Out of the 72 competitors I was number 70 and was soon enjoying the countryside around Ashford and Rye. After a couple of hours I had almost stopped worrying about Zipp and was buoyed by the sight of helper at 10am. Helpers are allowed to hand you food and drink but must not follow behind you, hand up supplies on the move or overtake you more than once every 10 miles so we decided to have a set point on each circuit where I would expect to see my helper. This reduced the amount of driving he would do and meant I would know where I could get any assistance I needed.
        
Being such a long event means you get to see a lot of the marshals, riders and their helpers and I made a point of greeting them all. After a while you can sense where you are in relation to other riders. I had managed to catch all but 2 of the riders and had been caught by the last man off (the favourite, last years winner, Andy Miles) by 120 miles and was pleased that Zipp was holding up well and, apart from an increasingly sore undercarriage, I was holding up pretty well too. This was a nice surprise as my training had consisted of getting shingles, not training and then doing the club middle distance race. Of course a lot could happen in the next 7 hours. With 6 hours to go I stopped for my first wee (probably setting some sort of record for time and volume). At 5 hours to go I recaught number 72 and left him trailing. Even with my diminished mental functioning I knew this meant I was in 3rd or possibly better. Reaching the finishing circuit at 200 miles my helper informed me that I may be first or second as I stopped again to relieve myself over my own foot. This was possibly where things started to unfold. I stopped being focussed on staying hydrated and thought more about keeping my stops to a minimum to maintain my position. I was also becoming increasingly unable to sit on my saddle as it was the first time I had used it and it wasn't proving as comfy as the manufacturer claimed. At 215 miles I went to take a bottle on board but dropped its contents over my knees. This had 2 consequences of note. The first was that I would have ridden 50 miles without a drink and the second was that I had become a wasp magnet. I noticed the wasp just a little too late and it was probably the sting that alerted me to its presence. In trying to brush it off I managed to get another two stings and watched in dismay as my knee started to swell and become really stiff. I guess I should be pleased that I didn't spill it over my shorts!
        
I could sense my slowing and by the time I had stopped for a drink I had lost any ability to try and push on. I then managed to lose my chain twice necessitating more stops and, more importantly, one of my tribar pads. This left me unable to put my arm in an aero position as there was just that really hard, bristly Velcro and a protruding bolt to rest on. Now I was really up against it mentally but the happy appearance of Daniel, Daisy and Alice (my long suffering family who had come out for the last hour) made me determined to finish.
        
As the sun started to set and the breeze drop I enjoyed my last lap at a leisurely pace along the scenic leafy lanes and said a last thank you to the crowds (yes, really), marshals and timekeepers. My 12 hours elapsed and I coasted to a grateful halt with my family and helpers not far behind.
        
Back at the HQ there was a lavish selection of food and many stories of individual adventure and endurance being shared amongst our community of long distance lunatics. As the timekeepers reported their findings and mileages were put onto the results board it seemed I had managed 3rd place and a total of 258 and a bit miles.
        
As I wearily packed my bike back into the car I am sure that Zippy gave me a knowing wink. Yes Zippy the Zombie wheel lives on, and I was the grateful dead.