Ironman Barcelona – Keith Murphy

I recall many years ago seeing the Pulse Triathlon logo in Westpark gym, and thinking, wouldn’t it be cool to attempt a multi-disciplined sport to test myself. So I started to try it out when training, doing a cycle on a spin bike, then onto the treadmill for a bit, followed by a few lengths of the pool, gradually spending longer at each activity feeling good about myself. Unfortunately my work dried up here at home which forced me to travel over seas to earn a crust, this also put a stop to any regular training and life in general.  5 years on, 2014, to my delight I’m back home working, with regular hours and routine becoming the norm. I picked up where I left off and next on the list was to try out a sprint triathlon for real, I chose Dún Laoghaire in July. With my open water swimming exposer somewhat anorexic, the 750m took forever, the bike was average, and I was carrying two bottles of water for the 5k run, that itself tells the story.

I was hooked, became a member of Pulse, and took part in my first training session on a cold, wet, windy Wednesday night in November where I got to meet some fellow members and one Ger Kirwin. Straight off Ger came up running along side giving me tips, words of encouragement and I settled into it, of course I had no Garmin or a clue of pace, this is where Chris Donohoe came in, he seemed to have a bit of an idea of what he was at, but more importantly he had a watch.

My good friend Shay Brady had recently completed his first Ironman, and after a brief conversation the seed was sown, Ironman Barcelona was booked followed by an Olympic distance in Athy and Ironman Dublin 70.3.

Training took on a new meaning, with coached swim sets, Wednesday night runs, long bikes and 4 mornings a week in the gym, PB’s became a weekly occurrence as my body started to adapt to this Alien endurance training. As my time was now congested with an ever-increasing workout regime, coupled with day-to-day living the weeks past like days, and suddenly it was time to race.

First up an Olympic in Athy, my first attempt at this distance and my second Triathlon. I arrived early to beat the rush for registration and to give myself enough time to get set up in transition and soak up the atmosphere but before long I’m in the water and staring down the Barrow. 2h46min and we’re done, no drama, no issues, feeling great.

More training filled weeks followed and again it was time to race, but this was a different challenge completely, this was the trial run for Barca. Ironman Dublin 70.3, my third Triathlon, its now sinking in just how massive these Ironman events are, I’m racing with two thousand six hundred other athletes from so many nations, thousands of supporters to cheer you on, am I ready for this. The excitement is choking, the atmosphere is electric, and WOO look at all the bikes in T1.

The swim goes well, 40min, I forget to start Garim, no panic, into T1 changed and out onto the bike course, where’s my bike computer, left in my blue bag, no heart rate or cadence to monitor, just keep going, bike time 2h43min. Arrived at T2 safely, another quick change of equipment and we are out on the run. OH what’s wrong here, my legs haven’t had this sensation before, it was the first time I had numb feet going from the bike to a run, even in training, I looked down towards my feet only to see my ankles smeared in blood, I pulled over to investigate the cause, a simple little thing of not fixing my socks correctly, no plasters to cover my wounds I set off again. 15k in and my ankles are really acting up along with a tightness in my left Achilles, time to walk, all of a sudden I had Pulse’ers coming from every angle, Paul Cunningham, Come Keitho your nearly there, Clare Dillon, Lets go run a bit with me she yells. Over the line, completely empty, drained thinking in a few weeks I have to do double this, alarm bells ring. This was what I needed, I reassured myself, that’s why we did this event, practice, get the mistakes out of the way, test your equipment. The following weeks where the most intense, training wise on my program, but I worked hard and kept to the plan as best I could, however the tight Achilles never left me, I was to carry it all the way to Barcelona

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I’m gazing out over the Mediterranean, wet suit on, goggles and race cap in hand, surrounded by thousands of people but feeling very much on my own, many others the same, some with tearful eyes, its race day IRONMAN BARCELONA.

We all take our positions behind the start line depending on how fast we are going to swim. Drones flying overhead, athletes waving up and cheering, athletes quite and motionless, supporters screaming and throwing kisses to their loved ones.

The gun fires and the Pro’s are off, we start to shuffle slowly to the start line, everyone looking ahead, game faces on, a quick dash into the water and I commence my first attempt at an Ironman, my forth Triathlon. It’s tight for space rounding the first turn point but I soon get into a rhythm and find some clear water. My open water swimming was strong, so I was going to enjoy it, slightly choppy but 20 degrees, 1h13min and I’m back on the beach trying to run to the transition marque, changing as quickly as I could but slow enough to remember everything I exit and collect my bike. Wobbling out of T1 Shay Brady and I are along side each other, a quick well done both ways and we carry on, Shay was to have an amazing day.

The streets are full of supporters cheering and clapping, I couldn’t help but smile, the first 3k passed by in a flash and then its onto the bike course proper, a couple of small climbs first before it gets fast.  With a good pace for the first 40k I knew I would have to hold back a little as my lower leg wasn’t letting me forget we had a Marathon to try and run in the very near future. All along the bike route we had great support, especially at the aid stations, everybody cheering us on continually, and when I had to dismount for a toilet break, two volunteers came to my assistance, one taking my lovely Ridley Dean while the other helped me to the porter loo even holding the door while I struggled to keep my balance walking on my cleats, 33 seconds later, feeling refreshed I’m back on the road.

Just outside Calella there is a spectator hotspot, its downhill and I couldn’t resist the temptation to come out onto the outside of the road and thunder down past my fellow athletes, its not the fastest I’ve ever been on a bicycle but with the crowds screaming and the adrenalin pumping it felt quick.

I’m now 5k from finishing the bike course and I start to focus on the tight, twisty turns that lead back to transition, I spot my family on the footpath, their cheers are like a big tail wind pushing me towards what is going to be the toughest portion of my race, THE RUN.

My bike placed back at its location on the rack, I steadily make my way into the transition marque, determined not to repeat my Rookie mistakes from Dublin 70.3, every action is precise and premeditated, I take some pain relief with water, hoping it will offset the aching in my Achilles for even a short while.

It’s a mixed running surface with a couple of tight turns to start, both sides of the cones dividing the course are heavily congested with athletes, along the ground I spot some writing, it reads GO PULSE, I look up to see the traveling supporters hanging over the barriers, veins protruding from their necks in an effort to bellow out, GO KEITHO GO, I feel energised and uplifted by the girls and all of the other thousands of strangers that are willing me to succeed, but this feeling fades all to quick, nearing the end of the first of four loops, I’m nauseous, and numb and its roughly 3k to the nearest porta loo, it felt as if every step forward would be my last of the day, I had to walk, eventually reaching the sanctuary of the loo, as crazy as it sound closing the door behind me I was able to shut off briefly, gather myself and blow chunks.

Steadily the Kilometers pass by, the sun is setting and the light is fading, I’m now within the final 15k of my first Marathon, and the realization that I am within touching distance of the finish puts the smile back on my face, which I will admit had been missing for some time, it puts a bounce in my step, I am now passing other athletes who are feeling and showing the strain of their efforts.

Nearly there, I come upon the 41k marker, in awe I cant believe I’m there, one final time passing the Pulse support crew, big, big smiles, my family along side them, this was their journey too, its onto the finishing shoot, the magic red carpet, I’M AN IRONMAN.