The day I got burnt by the dragon

Ironman Wales 2022 race report – Siobhan Brewer

The ‘A’ race. I always secretly like have to have the fear and the knot in the stomach when entering and committing to the ‘A’ race. The ‘A’ race is normally a step up, associated with the apprehension that it may not be possible to finish and that training is going to be hard. In 2019 Ironman Wales became my next ‘A’ race. It was undoubtedly right on the edge of my abilities. Not the strongest swimmer at the best of times my only experience of a sea swim was DNFing Ironman 70.3 Marbella in swell and chop. I also knew I would need to train hard and have a good day to achieve 14mph on the hilly bike route in Wales and thus avoid the cut off. However, I wanted to finish Ironman Wales a lot. I wanted to prove that I could get round even the toughest Ironman events and really have earned the bragging rights and the tattoo.

We all know what happened in 2020 and 2021. By the time 2022 came round I hit my 50th birthday and after two years of not having triathlons and events in the calendar I wanted to celebrate and enjoy myself. The lead up to Ironman Wales became more stressful in that the monarch Queen Elizabeth passed away a few days before the event. There was some uncertainty whether the event would progress as scheduled. Delays in communication meant that I started my nearly 8 hour car journey to Pembrokeshire later than planned arriving late at night. This was reflected in my early morning race day as I had the most chaotic preparation and journey to the start line that I have ever had in an event leaving transition with no time to spare and heading straight to the beach.

The Swim

***I don’t normally swear very much- but I tend to make an exception for swimming and the last 10k of a marathon. In order to maintain respectability and for the sensibility of readers I have used the word ‘cheese’ instead of a swear word. Readers are advised that they can mentally insert a swear word of their choice if they so wish when they come across the word ‘cheese’ in the following paragraph. ***

The streets of Tenby were packed with athletes and spectators. There was a slow shuffle heading towards the beach. The early morning sun was just coming up. As I came round the corner I caught the first glimpse of the sea. There was waves crashing against the shore. I could see white tops of waves- on a normal day I have a phrase that ‘if there is white horses I’m not getting in’. Today was not a normal day. I could see a small boat out on the close shore. It was bobbing up and down like a bucking bronco. I felt my stomach drop ten feet. I looked to the athlete to my right who was a tall skinny guy. A look of complete fear passed over his face.

‘Cheese’ we said together in unison.

I put my pink bag on the hook and took a moment to survey the sea again. ‘This’ I told myself is what you signed up to. I had wanted it to be hard. I had wanted to prove I could complete a choppy sea swim. When I got round this, I could always say I did Ironman Wales in a hard year. Not an easy year with calm conditions. I mentally prepared my game plan.

- Get my head down in the water. Tuck chin in and let the waves crash over the top

- Don’t fight the water. If there is a moving body of water – the water will win. Just go with it

- Put my ankles together, stretch out and surf.

- Above all – stay calm. Breathe out.

This might be the wrong approach, but over the period of the summer I had done a lot of swimming and these tactics had served me well enough. I had done the same course at the Long Course Weekend event in July. The swim on that weekend has also been choppy. It had taken me two hours. If this took me two hours also – so be it.

It is a stunning setting Tenby North beach. The sky was red. I don’t think there is another swim location like it. The start at Ironman Wales is rightly acclaimed. However I preferred the swim start at the Long Course Weekend (LCW). At LCW there is a DJ booth on the beach with dance music blasting. At the time my jaw dropped as you could have mistaken that you were on the beach in Ibiza rather than Wales. It was party time. This time the atmosphere was serious and pensive. Incredulously spectators were being instructed to vacate the beach as due to the tide rapidly coming in it was unsafe. This instruction was repeated over and over. Meanwhile the crazy folk in the pink hats were standing in the unsafe area and preparing to jump into the turbulent sea.

For once I lined up reasonable competitively at about 1hr 45 finish, further down from the folks with terror on their faces. In what seemed like seconds it was time to get into the water.

People seemed to be just wading into the water and stroking the waves. As soon as I could swim I started swimming. It was hard but no worse than LCW. The swim to the first buoy is always the hardest. I was progressing and what’s more I was holding my own. The chop was getting worse the further I headed out. In my peripheral vision I could see people scrambling onto boats and paddle boards. By the first buoy there were bodies everywhere. People were being flung in all directions. The section heading along the back straight was as anticipated the worst. Why was I doing this? My next triathlon better be in a nice lake….Where was my next triathlon? Aaaaah cheese – Lanzarote. I tried to breathe every 5 strokes so I was avoiding the worst of it. I had practised this for my Lake Windermere swim and it really helped. However here I just couldn’t do it – I could feel the beginnings of panic rising so I made the decision to carry on with bilateral 3 stroke breathing. One positive to this was I could attempt to sight every few strokes. This was challenging with the swell and indeed the buoys were moving in the chop. I got irritated by people swimming away past me in the wrong direction. I headed straight for every buoy as I was determined not to swim a yard more of this sea than I had to. As I headed back to shore, I considered pulling out. It would be easy and understandable to do. I felt like I had gone through a mangle already. As I came into the shore I heard Paul ‘Mr Ironman’ Kaye say that all athletes who had withdrawn and all those who were going to withdraw after one lap to report to a marshal on the shore. Suddenly my mind-set changed ‘cheese you Mr Ironman’ I thought. I walked- yes walked, around the aussie exit. My watch said 41mins – I didn’t believe it that was a PB by 2 mins. I took some deep breaths, composed myself and got in again. I did a deal with myself that it was only the back straight that was intolerable. All I had to do was swim that back straight and I was done. It was a good deal. Ben Hale , a fellow SEC athlete had posted this week about living in the moment. Sorry Ben but as I came to the back straight again I mentally went somewhere else. Anywhere than being in this terrible sea. I thought about being the surfer from the old spice advert of the 1970s- I visualised I was surfing along the waves like a conquering hero. Just at that moment the entire contents of my stomach – gel, toast and jam, sea water emptied into my mouth…… ‘more cheesy cheese’ I just gulped it all back down and swam on.

When I got to the shore and staggered up the zig zags I noted my time was 1 hour 27mins. A PB by 3mins. I had done it. I ran the 1.2k to T1 feeling like a superhero. The streets were five people deep with spectators cheering. It was incredible.

The bike

The bike course in Wales does a lot for the soul. The vistas of cliffs, sea, castles, idyllic villages and countryside was a joy during LCW. I also really like cycling up hills on a bike. The support on the course was tremendous. Pembroke had everyone out. The climbs of Wiseman’s bridge and Saundersfoot had crowds lined up you had to cycle through like it was Alpe D’Huez. At some point on the second loop, the skies opened and it started lashing down. The rain looked like it was in for the day. I also realised it felt like I had been continuously riding uphill, into a headwind for a very long period of time. I had eaten all my sandwiches and cake. I guzzled Gatorade and 226 bars. Both didn’t taste very good- I should have bought more sandwiches. I also started to feel the pressure of the cut off. I didn’t want to expend too many watts but at the same time I realised I was getting slower. I calculated the pace I had to ride for the next three hours and realised barring disaster I should make it. When I eventually reached Tenby for the last time, I was forty minutes slower than LCW and a good hour than what I had predicted for myself. I could see runners already out on course. It was still raining. I made eye contact with Joe Skipper. His face was etched with pain and suffering. I could see he was followed by a motorbike rider holding a placard saying third man. Hell, even Joe Skipper was having a hard day out.

The run

I was irritable and mentally not in the best place as I ventured out onto the run. I got fully changed as my tri suit was soaked right through from the bike. I calculated I had 6 hours to get this marathon done. The run course is four laps. I like four laps. This is four x 10k. Lap 1 a recce. Lap 2 know where to push on, lap 3 the lap of doom and then you are done. On lap 1 the recce, the course basically went up a big hill to a place called New Hedges and then back down again. There was a circuit round Tenby along the sea front and through the town and then you went round again. The circuit through the town should have been enjoyable but the smell of burgers, chips, beer only enhanced my growing nausea. What’s more the cheesy cheese upon cheese sea had calmed and looked peaceful and tranquil. I started to berate myself. I should have paid more attention to this race. I had become distracted and become diverted with ultra trail running and massive Lake District swims. I hadn’t felt this shockingly bad in the last ten miles of the Lakeland 50. I was in the dark and the rain. This wasn’t a normal occurrence for me in an Ironman. I was satisfied with my performance in all other events this year, in most cases exceeding my expectations, especially in trail running. Yet here I was in my ‘A’ race and having the worst performance of all by far. This was going to be the longest Ironman ever. I put my head down. Power walked the ups like I was climbing a Lake District fell and ran the downs and the straights. I got it done in 15 hours and twenty something. Half an hour longer than my longest Ironman time in Austria where I had vomited and had bloody diarrhoea round the run.

The aftermath

My disconsolate mood continued. I forced pizza down my neck and some volunteer angel brought me a coffee. Some very kindly gentlemen helped me take my bike and bags back to my car. As I drove back to my hotel I noted a full car park. Everyone must have returned hours ago. I hardly slept. The next morning I put on my finisher t-shirt and hobbled to breakfast. Everyone was already there. As I entered, the room fell silent. I miserably ordered ‘everything’ on the menu.

The room remained silent. The man on the table next to me whispered ‘you do realise you are the hero of the hotel….? ‘Huh??’ I replied in disbelief. It turned out that in my hotel everyone else apart from the little Scottish woman in the corner had DNFed. Over the course of the next hour they all passed my table with their tales of woe speaking to me in reverent tones like I was a goddess of great athletic prowess and steely resolve. Maybe I had done OK. As I packed my bags I looked at Facebook and there were all the tales of the terrible swim, the DNFs and the inclement weather.

I looked at some stats. There were around 2000 starters at Ironman wales. 169 of whom were women. In my age group there had been 47 women on the start list. The ironman app today showed 19 finishers. I was 10th.

On the long drive back to Cumbria. I put on some trance music and surveyed the Welsh valleys. I reflected, I had got round Ironman Wales. This had been what I had wanted, I would have taken this. I had done it in a really hard year. I had also achieved everything else this year I had wanted. I am sure I tormented poor coach Paul with my itinerary of events, but I had told him when we had that first phone consultation nearly a year ago that I just wanted to get round Ironman Wales. He had not only ensured that but also made sure I got to do crazy ultras and marathon swims. I had got to the start line with no injuries and miracle upon miracles I had swam a PB in the most terrible conditions. The man knows more than a thing or two about what he is doing . My mood started to lift. Ok I got burnt a little by the dragon in places, but this fifty year old wee Scottish Celtic warrior had indeed slayed the Welsh dragon.