After IRONMAN 70.3 Bolton in 2024, and IRONMAN 70.3 Swansea in 2025, 2026 had other ideas…
I had started my triathlon journey in 2022 with the Taunton Sprint Tri , and then a small scattering of other sprint events after Joining TTG in 2022. I had always been curious about the long course, hearing stories from experienced club mates, and watching some too. I had done the 113 and Bolton and Swansea, but never had the confidence or belief that I could go the distance, so many variables to play with let alone the sea swim and the potential for the conditions to be more than challenging. Work and home life issues would add more complexity to my journey, but I now believe, with the right training, the right coach and the right mindset , in the words of IRONMAN themselves, “ Anything is possible” . This is IRONMAN Wales 2026, but from my perspective.
I crossed the finish line in Swansea in 2025, after racing in very hot conditions, doing what I thought at the time was the correct fuelling strategy, oh how wrong I was, looking back and knowing what I know now, but that’s how you learn and improve. When I crossed the line, I felt awful and even ushered the words, I’m not doing this again, let alone a long course race. Funny how short our memories become at times. I watched a contingent of TTGers in Leeds at the inaugural IRONMAN Leeds 2025 and decided I wanted that experience, and dare I say it, listen to those words “Adrian Cole, You are an IRONMAN ”. At this point, project IRONMAN Wales 2026 was conceived.
I had discussions with my coach, Charlie, who played a massive part in this story from the outset, and having navigated me through the previous two seasons, was set to guide me through our biggest challenge. Having recently qualified as a personal coach in 2025, I ended up being one of 6 athletes coached by her who successfully slayed the dragon in 2026, and three of us were first timers. In all honesty, without Coach Charlie, none of it would have even been possible.
A car load of us went to the 2025 edition and signed up on the day, to guarantee entry at the cheapest possible price. As it stood, we ended up enlisting the grand total of 18i/19 athletes to the race. It was set to be a TTG party in 2026 in Tenby. At this point, it became real. Accommodation had already been booked, the race was booked. I just had to get there.
I was hoping to springboard off the 2025 season, and use that as solid base to go forward to Tenby in 2026. I thought that this would be good and give me the best possible chance. I knew it was always going to be tight with my training, which was one of the considerations from the outset. Managing my working dogs (by this time I got a puppy to add to the two I already had ) and work, my family and my life in general. Little did I know, that life had its own mental challenges to chuck in the mix. This is not a plea or call for sympathy, but to build the bigger picture. Everyone has their own reasons, their own why. It helps understand what it means if and when you get to the other side.
Mentally, It didn’t get off to the greatest of starts when I lost my pet German Shepherd in mid-September. It was unexpected and he was 11.5 years old, I had had him since he was a pup and he had seen the birth and growth of my two boys and he was gone. I found myself fitting in exercise where I could to up my volume, and this was a prime example, I ran to the vets (I was due to run anyway) so I ran the 4.5 miles to the vets. I spent 30 minutes saying goodbye to my boy and then without thinking, ran the 4.5 miles back home. At the time, despite the upset, I felt happy that I could do the 9 miles off the bat, and felt optimistic about what was to come.
I started strength and conditioning and worked hard at going to the gym 2 times a week mostly early mornings to fit around work and walking dogs. I started this in early august and got into a routine and was starting to feel strong. In previous years, I had omitted strength training from my plans despite wanting to do it. I knew this needed to change if I wanted to improve going forward. Historically, if I can get into a routine, I can stick to it, and it was going well until a last minute course at work, meant 3 weeks in Surrey away from home. No access to a gym, I did manage to find a local Nuffield Health and swim. I managed to run where I could but the gym work stopped. Coming home on a weekend, I was out cycling long rides (50miles+) and doing other stuff and then going back to Surrey and not seeing my family for very long at all. No access to the gym meant no gym work and when the course finished, I just couldn’t get back into the strength work like before. Being away from home as well, meant my eating routines and habits too seemingly fell by the wayside. I was some distance from the weight I was when I joined the club, and could not find the motivation to lose weight or focus on trimming down, this I believe led to the majority of the injuries I subsequently experienced in the lower limbs. It had not only a physical effect on me, but a mental effect too.
It was around this time I think that I had the first of my injuries. In the whole of my journey to Tenby, I was plagued with lower limb injuries which hampered any progression on two feet, so come race week, when I worked out I had only average about 30-40 miles a month on my feet, I knew it was going to be pretty grim.
Christmas came and went, and we were into the same year as the race, things were going to get real. Whist Wales was my A race, I was planning on using the 113, deferred from 2025, as my B race and an opportunity to practice everything in an expensive brick session. Those were my only planned events.
In January another mental setback saw the loss of my main working dog unexpectedly due to cancer. My dog that I had been with for every day for the previous 8 years, she had protected me, stood side by side with me and been my loyal partner come rain or shine. I was heartbroken. She was due to retire in two months and she didn’t make it that far. Now it may not seem like a big deal to some, but this dog was my world. Immediately after she died, without thinking, I smoked a cigarette, 15 years after my last one, and it was like I never stopped. I then found myself in a never ending cycle of trying to stop and life throwing another curveball at me which meant I kept leaning on cigarettes to help me deal with it. I don’t drink so alcohol was no outlet for me. (Fast forward to race week, and I was still smoking 5-6 a day) The thing is, I knew it was wrong but could I stop it then, no. I’m not proud of it, and if I could have never started again, trust me, I wouldn’t have done.
Work continued to be a drain on me, along with several other personal issues, family illness, I was relying on training to get me through, but would also find myself eating way more than I should do. Something I had suffered time and time with before, but this was something I couldn’t get on top of.
Looking back on it, I am fully well aware that Coach Charlie earnt her money in helping me and keeping me motivated. I felt accountable to her and did not want to let her down more than anything else. I knew the odds were probably against me when in reality on average , I was doing about 7-8 hours of training a week, but seeing clubmates doing more, or worse still, getting drawn in by social media posts of people doing 12-14 hours a week . Mentally, I felt like I was failing and Charlie made me believe. She orchestrated what could work for me and put it to a plan.
In my head, before Wales I needed to make sure I could do the distance and more where possible. Before 2026, I had never cycled more than 66 miles at once, or swam more than 2200 metres at once. To boot, I had never run a marathon. Turns out in 2026, the most I would do was 18 miles, which I ended up doing at the On A Plod, MCR, in July.
In my build up to Wales I decided to push myself further where I could to make race day seem a lot easier. This meant some big notable achievements for me in my training.
Dragon Ride in June saw off the Grando Fondo at 138miles with 3500m of elevation (222km) – this ride taught me so much. Hills no longer scared me after this ride, distance didn’t scare me, and I was so pumped after I finished this, I signed up for the LCW Swim.
Long Course Weekend Swim, in the sea at Tenby , 1 hour 17 mins for 2.4 miles ( the first time I had swam the distance and in the sea non the less) Those who know me, know in 2022, I was not a strong swimmer, and couldn’t do 25 metres freestyle without gassing, or swim in OW without a panic attack. To get into the sea, which terrified me, and swim the distance, in that time was a massive confidence boost. I knew now I could do it. I wasn’t being complacent, I was being confident.
On A Plod MCR – 18 miles or 30km of Running
In amongst other training, I hit 100 + miles on at least 2 0ther occasions including a TTG ride up and down both the Gospel Pass and The Tumble in a 112 mile ride 3 weeks from race day. I swam 3000m + in one go at least twice, including the swim podium series at Lake 86. So in my head, I knew I could do the distances, I just needed to put them all together at once. From where I had started in January 2026, I had already surpassed lifetime bests, but Wales was the ultimate goal and all the training would be worth it if I could make it to the finish line on the 13th September 2026, on the Esplanade, Tenby and hear those words, “ADRIAN COLE, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN”
I hit taper weeks, and my numbers that week resembled weeks throughout most of my training plan. I read so many times, usually on Instagram, that it was normal to worry about having done enough. That coupled with self doubt would make you worry, but I remembered what I had spoken to Charlie about on a number of occasions, and trusted both her and the process. I couldnt change anything now. I was most concerned about my running due to the plague of injuries, but I would just have to knuckle down and get on with it.
I was accustomed with the course as a number of us TTGers had been to Tenby for a weekend in August and had an awful swim in the sea, followed by a big loop, and then the big loop the following day. This helped no end. At one point, I had found a photo I had saved from 2023, where I had ridden the route, which I voiced my disgust at the course and that I wasn’t built for hills… I mean im not built for hills still, but the course didn’t scare me. I felt this was a good place to be.
Looking back on my training, I followed Coach Charlie’s training to the letter. I rarely skipped a session, and I made no excuses. I grinned and beared it, and by hook or by crook, I did what I was told to do. I was told on a number of occasions by Coach and my friends that I was very stubborn and I did not give up. Giving up was never an option. It may not have been the biggest by numbers, but what I did do was good value.
All of the above didn’t prevent the nerves. Im not going to lie, I was petrified. I didn’t want to fail. I didn’t want to break. I kept a brave face, but was so fearful of disappointment and judgement that would follow. That or the fear I would have to do it again in future.
So Race week arrived. I had spent all week looking at the weather worrying about what would come race day. I couldn’t decide between my TT bike or my road bike and the weather would by the deciding factor for me. By the time Thursday Had come, I committed to the TT bike as the weather looked reasonable for the weekend. Well, we all know how that worked out…..
I travelled down to Tenby on the Friday and went straight to the expo. I walked into the Expo Village and could feel the nerves already starting to get on top of me. I tried to remain calm and walked into the tent, straight to registration. I registered and then had my wristband put on my wrist. It was real. It was happening. Oh well, better get it done I guess….
I then parted with A LOT of hard earned cash in the expo, but this was always going to be my one and done, so may as well do it properly. I loaded up my rucksack and left £250 lighter. I Walked to North Beach, and looked at the bay. The tide was out, and it was a tad windy, but the sun was out. I was literally checking the weather every hour worried about the race day forecast. Looking back on it, I don’t know why I was, because all it served to do was make me worry and nervous. Could I change it? No, Could I control the weather? No. Present me advice to past me would have been , “Suck it up butter cup, it adds to the experience, just shut up and get on with it”.
I met with others down there for the race and later in the afternoon, I took part in the “steady, slow, non- race, shakeout run” the shakeout run that was above my race pace, and more like a threshold run for me, thankfully it was only 3km, and the final 3km through the town which served as a sighter for me come race day. ( I didn’t manage a run course recce due to a knee injury that threatened to de-rail the whole plan, so rest was the priority on the recce trips.)
Post shakeout run, it was dinner and then settle down for the night.
Saturday morning meant for a high tide shakeout swim on course, Using my spare wetsuit, I walked into the water, without a care in the world and jumped straight in, after all, this was the plan race day. I felt good……. For the first 3 strokes. I then got a little bit panicky and stood up. I needed this to happen to me and I’m glad it did. It made me focus and realise that no matter how good I felt, something can always happen. A little swim out across and back was enough to give myself a taste of race day. Just like that. I was done. The next bit of exertion I would experience would be race day.
A wander back to my accommodation that was on the finishing straight had some breakfast and then set about packing all my kit into the transition bags. By this point, the weather had changed and It was not only very windy, but it had started to rain aswell. This then queued another what felt like minutely weather checks and worrying about what race day had in store. Again, I don’t know why I did this, but the devil makes work for idle thumbs…. I tried to relax and eat and just chill, but I was restless. Im not going to lie, I was nervous. As per most of the build-up week, was hungry, but I had no appetite, I felt sick to my stomach, I was worrying. I kept telling myself that its normal, it’s a big thing, but still I couldn’t shake my nerves or nausea. I wanted to rack as late as possible because of the wind and weather but to keep myself busy, I racked my bike and bags around lunchtime with the thought of just relaxing into the evening and not having to worry about it. I got to transition and racked my stuff. In transition, I saw at least two bikes be blown off the racking and hit the floor. The wind was strong and the rain at this point was still light. I worried that I would have the same issue but was content that It would stay on the racking. I did my last checks on my bike, and then left transition. Slowly but surely, it was becoming real.
I again returned to the accommodation, stuck my legs into my inflatable compression trousers and started watching some films to try and occupy my mind. I was alone in the in accommodation and I knew I didn’t want to be out walking around, I needed to relax and unwind, something that was easier said than done. I still felt sick, I had a headache. Up until this point, I had carb loaded effectively, and kept my electrolyte intake high, along with fluid intake. I could only chalk to down to nerves. I messaged Coach to let her know how I was feeling. I didn’t think or want her to do anything, it was just to get it off my chest. What followed was an important voice note that settled me and calmed me.
I had made arrangements with Jon M for him to act as my guide / mentor / emotional support athlete on race morning as I wanted an experienced and familiar face to be close through the start process for me. I had no idea what to expect, but I knew it would be a highly charged morning.
The rest of the evening passed without worry or drama and the alarm clock was set for race morning… 0430 hours.
To be fair, I slept better than I thought I would. I was worried that the lack of sleep the previous nights would have had a cumulative effect, but I slept till my alarm, I woke up and forced my breakfast down my throat.
I was dressed and ready to walkout the door in no time and made my way to transition. I walked out the door, and surprise surprise , it was raining, all be it a bit of mizzle. I checked my bike, I loaded the bike with nutrition and bottles and then checked my bags in transition. I managed to find Jon and saw some others in transition.
Time seemed to fly by in an instant, and before I knew it, it was time to go down to the beach, backed in amongst all the other athletes. It was starting to get light, and the mizzle was staying put, and I looked out to the bay as we approached North Beach. The mizzle/ mist was out in the bay. The water looked calm, but I knew this meant that the under current was waiting and lurking under the water….
I remember saying that the one thing that genuinely scared me about IRONMAN Wales was the swim. I could spend 12 months plus training for the event, and turn up race day, and not even get into the water because of the conditions. I had made peace with this, and my training got me to a place that come hell or high water, I was getting into the water and I would start. DNS was never an option or a consideration, I would just have to accept it was going to be hard if the conditions were rubbish. Funnily enough, I heard someone say, it might have even been Jon M, “They might shorten it cos of visibility” Whether that was a serious or a throwaway comment, it did not matter. I stopped and was genuinely disappointed by the thought of it. I was here for the full swim, not a half swim.
I was with Jon, and we made our way down to the Zig zags, racked our pink bags and then down onto the beach. There was no going back. I wanted to go in the 1 hour 15 pen so went in from the front and made my way to the front of that pen. I was not a fan of being packed in with so many people in close proximity and put my ear plugs in just to numb the noise around me. I lost count of how many times Jon asked me if I was ok, and then apologising for asking me if I was ok. We were both nervous, just he had the advantage of having done this before. He knew what was ahead.
I made pleasantries with others around me and just stood there waiting for what was to come.
I know I had earplugs in, but the sound quality was pretty rubbish on the beach, even where I was stood. I couldn’t hear the announcer and before I knew it the Welsh national anthem started. Now I’m not Welsh, but Jesus, the hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention, and goosebumps littered my body under my wetsuit. I didn’t attempt to sing it, nor did I have a right to, but it doesn’t mean you can’t respect it and soak in the atmosphere. This was the first time in the day that the emotions started to get to me. Fireworks and flames shot into the air and after a few seconds, I was aware that the Male pros and then Female pros were in the water. It wouldn’t be long and my time would come. By this time, the heavens had opened and the rain was in full flow. I joked that this served as good acclimatisation for the swim and accepted I was about to get very wet anyway.
Literally after a few minutes, the mass in front of me started to thin and I was walking forward. I stuck myself into a funnel , gave Jon M the obligatory fist bump and said “See you on the otherside” and before I knew it, the arm went up in front of me. My mind went quiet, it felt like a slow motion picture. I walked into the water but the spectating crowd was still there, some people up to waist deep in the water. I bent over and splashed my face with water several times and then leapt forward, aiming for the lifeboat station and started swimming.
This was it, I was swimming, in the sea, at IRONMAN Wales. I steered clear of the crowds and stuck to my drills, and felt like I got to a reasonable rhythm and pace very early on, sighting and moving forward. The first lap of the swim was fairly uneventful. I did the first 500m in 9:40 and surprised myself. I knew that this section was current assisted, so didn’t get carried away. I made it round the first buoy and turned into the current and headed across the bay. You had to turn on the orange bout, the only downside was you couldn’t see the orange buoy, so was having to navigate yellow buoy to yellow buoy. I did witness some pretty awful sighting and swimming discipline from some individuals, but I kept my elbows out and made it harder for those people to “move me “ about. I kind of just switched off then and kept moving forward. I cast my mind back to 2 months previously in the LCW swim and remembered how I felt then, and in all honesty, I actually felt good. The 500m reminders kept popping up, and no surprise against the current I was significantly slower. I had lost Jon M pretty early, not intentionally, so I just kept my head down, focused on my rhythm and technique. The furthest buoy resembled a WWE match with some people who clearly had no manners and didn’t care about others, but I managed that without incident and made my way back to shore to end the first lap. It was really hard trying to sight for Black Buoys, and a black exit Arch, against a black Goscar Rock, and dark hillside on what was a dark gloomy , and now seemingly wetter, morning. I aimed for the rock and knew that when I got closer I would be able to see. Before I knew it, I was back at the beach and was able to stand… I had done lap one. A quick aussie exit was what stood between me and lap two. I took the gel that was stashed up my sleeve, and turned back into the water for lap two.
Lap one 43 mins – Total time 43 Mins
Lap two was much the same as lap one for me, some absolutely abominable sighting from some which ended in a few bumps and grabs. But I held my ground and made my way round the lap. I can’t really remember what went though my mind. I was still in disbelief that I was doing and had done so far. I felt both good and strong and within my abilities. I saw maybe one jellyfish all swim something that I was not disappointed about…. I got to the turning point for the shore and again, tried to sight off Goscar Rock.
I got back to shore and stood up, I had done it. The sense of relief that hit me was like no other. I didn’t get emotional, but in my mind the hardest and scariest part of the day was done. I must have looked a right mong flailing around trying to grab my wetsuit release, so much so I heard a volunteer shout, “Oi Big boy, come here…” and he helpfully unzipped my back.
I ran to the arch and pressed my lap button. 1 hour 30 mins. Wow. I knew it was going to be challenging, and the swim was going to be slower than LCW Swim. I was not disappointed with my swim. In my last coach chat I said I was aiming for 1 hour 30 mins, so call me Ronseal, I do exactly what it says on the tin.
Lap 2 – 47 minutes – Total Time 1 hour 30 minutes
I ran towards the zig zag happy to have done the swim and heard my name being shouted. Now I knew my wife was elsewhere and genuinely had no idea who it was. I looked to the barrier and it was Molly , screaming at the top of her lungs. I gave her a fist bump and then headed up the zig zags to my pink bag and then stuck my trainers on. I had a can of coke and a boost bar in my pink bag. I got rid of those pretty quick, and after getting rid of my wetsuit, I walked the remaining Zags of the Zig zags and then out onto the road being cheered on by the crowd. The run to T1 was a blur, but I made it into t1 grabbed my bag, into the private change pod and then set about getting changed. I fell over twice at this point trying to hurriedly change. I actually said out loud, slow down kid, go slow to go fast, the more you rush the more you’ll panic. I got myself changed and then outside to the bike, collected the bike and headed out of transition.
T1 time – 16 mins – Total time 1 hour 46 mins
The bike had started, through the crowds through the town and down the hill towards the Salterns. The rain hadn’t stopped as expected and I gingerly made my way down the hill. I knew I had my nutrition, I had my fluids and that I knew there would be a headwind all the way to Angle. I only had my sliver dark visor so which was steaming up very quickly and getting wet due to the splash. I took it off and stuffed it into by waist band. It was warm out, just very wet. I didn’t bother with a rain jacket because I would have cooked much like a boil in a bag. I just accepted I was going to get very wet.
At no point did I think to myself, hey ho, 112 miles to go, instead, I reminded myself of how I approached the Dragon ride back in June, its going to be a long day on the bike, I don’t really care, just get yourself round the course. So many people had said to me, just enjoy yourself, which is easier said than done. Secretly I had hoped that the weather would clear up, but I never did.
Recce rides were invaluable in the process, allowing me to know what was coming and when. I had belief in myself and reminded myself to ride my own race.
Its amazing where your mind goes at these times. I cant tell you what I thought about as I went round the bike course. What I do remember at points was thinking I didn’t belong here. I was larger and heavier than probably 95 % of the athletes around me. I’m self-conscious about my look and size at the best of times, and today was no different.
Drink and food reminders from the Garmin served as good distractions and helped me divert my thoughts. I had ridden the first 20km of the course of Rouvy what felt like a million times at different intensities and speeds. I knew that on a “easy” ride I would get to the ten mile marker at around 38 mins. Recce rides I did it in 32 and 36 mins, so anywhere around here I was on point. The headwind however, was playing havoc with my heart rate with me trying to stay consistent. I do remember telling myself to chill out a bit and remembered having read that Wales is “Won or lost in the first three hours” from athletes on the socials. I settled into it and found what I felt was my rhythm. On the first eat alert, I ate the first of my Strykr Rice cake bars, something in training I had done countless times without issue. Seemingly race day had other plans. It took me 10 minutes roughly to eat the bar and it seemed to take an age. It didn’t go down easily, so I had to adapt my plans slightly. I had planned on a bar an hour, but this soon changed to a bar every 2. Thankfully, I had enough of the other gummy products that could fulfil the same role to be able to modify this plan. If you were wondering what it takes to fuel this diesel engine, roughly 110-130g of carbs an hour on the bike, seemingly one of the downsides of resembling a baby rhino.
Just before Freshwater West, I saw someone on the side of the road, back wheel off and no tyre on the wheel. I shouted to them if they were ok, and they asked for a cannister. I had overpacked on spares to cover every eventuality and knew I had another in my personal needs if push came to shove, so I stopped and gave the person the canister. It was Shane Williams, the former Welsh International Rugby Player. He thanked me and I went on, wondering at what point he would over take me again. He never did. Unfortunately, he registered his first DNF in 9 attempts.
Any decline, I had to take super steady, being on carbon rims with rim brakes and it being wet, and knowing that there was a beach to cross if they hadn’t swept the road for raceday when going through Freshwater West. The road had been swept which meant you could cycle through, but still proceeding with caution, I made it through and started to climb past the war memorial towards Angle.
As I sat up and climbed, I heard “Come on TTG” and it was the first club member I had encountered on the bike course. I had lost Jon in the swim and had seen no one else since. I turned and looked and the absolute weapon that is Aaron. Big beaming smile. Said something about keep your heart rate low and then passed me on the hill . The boy was motoring as he disappeared into the distance. It was nice to see a friendly face albeit it very short. I turned after the climb towards Angle, then got the the furthest most extreme part of the course. The aid station was roughly 27 miles into the ride and in my head, I worked out I needed to be through 2 of my 3 bottles. (One of the carb mix and one of the electrolyte mix) I was just under that target so I drank the rest of the bottle of electrolytes. And made it to the aid station. I stopped briefly, replaced two bottles, and took a further bottle to go in my jersey as an emergency bottle of water. I didn’t know how long I had stopped for, but it was not long. Out of the aid station into a climb. With that safely navigated, and now a tailwind to play with, I settled quite quickly as I turned to head back towards Pembroke. I then saw Jon just going towards the dead leg, and shouted at him, and kept moving forward. Within seconds I saw a big beaming smile coming towards me, despite the weather and conditions. Big Stevie G. I waved at him, but knew my time before he caught me would soon be up.
With that I heard my name from behind me…. It was Chris A. It was great to keep bumping into team mates, helped distract the mind. At this point, with the tailwind, I thought it was rude to not ride together, so we, plus one of tricky’s friends from work, had a ride a little train going for a good few miles. The pace was good, but I knew that I could have some fun for a while, but this was not my race plan, and if I was to try and keep this up for any prolonged period, I would end up burning matches. I remembered a conversation with Charlie about riding my own race, so told Chris that our lil chain gang would have to come to an end and on the next smallest bit of incline that came up, I watched them cycle into the distance.
For Me the descent into Pembroke was a bit skitty, and I just slowly went down the hill, not reaching the speeds I had managed on the dry Recce rides. I was petrified of a dismount or even worse an injury. I went down and then up again and turned onto the dead leg in Pembroke, and at the turn around point, the cyclist in front nearly caused a pile up. The anticipation of slowing was there. What I didn’t anticipate was him stopping dead and getting off in the middle of the turn around point. He Got a few choice words from me and the others around me. It was then heading towards the hillier section of the route.
I can’t remember at what point I then saw Stevie G, but we spoke to each other, had a laugh and a joke, and much like the order for the rest of the day, he rode off into the distance.
Another Aid station came and went, and another brief stop and go. I cant really remember much of the next section if any at all, because all I can seemingly remember is descending into and then climbing into Narbeth. I take this as a good sign as it meant I wasn’t suffering and nothing really of note happened.
At some point though I did see two maybe three dismounts, mainly on descents with corners, and surprisingly, the offs were done by the Pros on their second lap. It was a bit surreal to both watch and then hear the noise of the bike scraping along the floor. There was no need to stop for them though as luckily, it was at a crowded junction where there was sufficient supporters in the crowd who could help them. The one dis mount I did take action on was a female pro who had come off at the foot of a small climb, just before Narbeth I think, and she was still clipped in on one foot and the other was loose. She was sat up and holding her shoulder and looked in pain. I told her I would get medical for her, she would just have to wait until I got to the top of the small climb. When I got to the top, the marshall looked like I had asked him the square root for 961 and stared blankly back at me, (its 31 by the way), so I repeated myself and then saw a BTF motorcycle official, police and ambulance up the road so I told them instead. I never did find out if she was ok, but felt like I did my bit.
The climb into Narbeth lifted me as I saw a TTG Jersey hanging on a road sign and then saw Pete Jones waving and videoing. This was the first “home supporter” I had seen on the bike course. It really is amazing how seeing a friendly face and supporter can boost your spirits and the further into the course I went, the more I would encounter. To those who I did see, you will get a mention, but thank you for giving up your time to support us all. It literally made a huge difference.
Another aid station another refill. I was keeping to my numbers and I was keeping to my strategy, just being very delicate on descents. In some ways this helped me stay restrained, but in others it was also hurting my strategy of using my size and power to get down the hill and then roll onto the next using momentum… Anyone who had gone on a training ride with me would have experienced me shooting up a hill after a descent just saying “its momentum, don’t worry” on a number of occasions.
In the back of my mind was on what was to come, the two biggest climbs in the shape of Wiseman’s Bridge and Heartbreak Hill.
On the descent into Wiseman’s, I think on the first lap, there was a police officer trying to get someone to slow down. Thankfully, I was already being very delicate on my bike, but the chap in front of me shouted “I know” to the Police man and then went to turn the corner , hit a shiny bit of tarmac and then didn’t turn the corner, came off his bike and slid down the road out of sight. I tried to warn people behind me and thankfully they managed to slow enough. When the person came off was back in sight, he was led on the floor with the copper stood over him. He was talking but looked like he was nursing a broken ankle. I couldn’t believe that I had witnessed all of these offs, having only ever seen them on the tv. It certainly gave me food for thought when I was descending and reiterated my position of slow and steady wins the race.
Having done Wiseman’s a number of times before, I knew what was to come, so I sat up and turned my legs over, seeing the position man on the hill who told me I was number 1154 I think to go past him up the hill. Random, but it was a nice distraction to get up the hill. I felt good up the hill and continued on to Saundersfoot. Around her some where I saw Neil (named Nigel by my wife) who asked me if I was enjoying the hills, I laughed at him and said of course not.
Into Saundersfoot and onto Heartbreak Hill. I had cycled this too, but I had seen the videos. This was the closest I was going to get to experiencing the Alpe D’huez style support in my life. On this lap, it was somewhat challenging and nearly cost me an off. I did the steep part and made myself towards the crowd funnel. Just as I did this someone in their infinite wisdom shot past me and then ground to a halt, and I had no where to go. I had got momentum and rhythm and was climbing nicely but had to stop. The crowd funnelled us together and I had no where to go. I tried to get past the bike at which point the rider fell into me as he had lost his balance, probably due to the hold up ahead. I unclipped and put my right leg down which caused my quad to immediately cramp. I quickly unclipped my left leg which then did the same. I had the presence of mind to move into the crowd as I saw a long line of climbers behind me. I saw Jon M in his rhythm and told him what had happened. I didn’t want him to stop, and was glad I had made it to nearly 70 miles before he caught me. I saw the queue of people and also a gap up ahead in the crowd so I ran to the gap for a distance of about 20 metres through the cramp and got back onto my bike. And made I to the aid station at the top of the hill. I was concerned about the cramp that had reared its ugly head for the first time this year. Those of you who know me well, know that I suffer cramping terribly, but this season I had managed to curb it and prevent it.
I made sure I upped my super salty electrolyte mixes and then pushed on into town, seeing people running (all pro’s thankfully) on the run course. A steady descent into Tenby where I saw my wife, well I actually heard her, on the roundabouts at the start of the second loop. I then went to the personal needs bag and restocked on everything and had my can of red bull, a can of coke and a blue powerade. Plus some savoury snacks to get me through.
The second lap was much of the same, only slightly windier. I can’t remember a lot of it, but was running out of club mates to see. I was noting that my average speed was dropping and I couldn’t for the life of me do the maths in my head to workout if the sweeper vehicle was a real threat to me. I told my head to shut up and just kept moving. I eventually got to Narbeth and through there again, and was almost disappointed to not seer Pete on the first climb, only to see him low down outside the shops on the High street.
One thing that was very noticeable is the numbers on the bike dropping lower and lower the further into the course you went. The second lap was far quieter, obviously.
Before I knew it, I was back in Wiseman’s. I had to make a call. I went to stand to climb and my legs felt heavy. I knew I was less than 10 miles away from the end of the bike course and climbing Wiseman’s alone (no crowd) was going to hurt me. I decided to get off and walk this incline, but cycle up Heartbreak hill and use the crowd to both boost and motivate me. This was a wise choice . At the top of Wiseman’s I heard a familiar northern twang and I looked behind to see Andy M. We spoke briefly before he too zipped passed me on the hill.
I climbed the first part of Heartbreak hill and then set myself up for the crowd. They did not disappoint or let me down and they got me through that last stage, the last little dig, without incident.
Back into Tenby and then back up the hill, the last little kicker that had lingered in my mind the whole day. In all honesty I had lost track of time. I pushed hard up the last hill and the rolled towards transition. I heard shouts of my name on the last corner and then rolled to the dismount line. I cam to a halt and looked up and saw the Heywoods stood on the other side of the fence.
Off the bike and into transition. I spent a lot of that ride concentrating on not coming off or falling, but all in all for me, it was fairly uneventful and for what was a large portion of the day, there is not a lot of remarkable stuff to tell.
Bike time – 7 hours 51 minutes – Total time – 9 hours 37 minutes.
I racked the bike and walked to the loo, and then round to the tent. I saw pro athletes walking back to their bikes in their finishing tops and remembered thinking how lucky they were. Before I walked into the tent, I looked across and saw the familiar club colours in the form of Jon m. I was totally confused as I had not seen him since the first lap Heartbreak Hill pass. Into the tent and I got changed. It was so nice to get out of all the wet kit. Literally saturated. I covered myself in talc, put nipple plasters on ( if you know you know) full change and then thought to myself, here goes nothing. I stopped and spoke to Jon to try and compute what had happened. After a brief chat, I left Jon knowing that he would be passing me again on the run, so I best make my ground now.
Out of transition to the run
T2 – 12: 17 – Total time : 9 hours 50 minutes
I started the run course and my plan was always 8 minutes run, 2 minutes walk. Walk any incline, no matter where in my timing I was. If I was on a decline on a 2 minute walk, I will walk. Walk every aid station, no matter what. I had never gone further than 18 miles in my life, so this was going to be a challenge,. I had prepared for a grim time, and this was where I had to show my true colours, be stubborn AF and get it done. I had never run a marathon before in my life so to make it, I was going to do a first. At no point did I actually think, right only a marathon to go. I just started running, take it as it comes and deal with what ever is in front of me.
Straight out of transition I saw Molly again, much like I did at the start of the day, and I began a slow steady jog towards the town walls.
I hadn’t managed a single lap of the course on the recce’s due to a knee injury in august, so I was running it blind minus a drive through of the course when I came down on the Friday, I ran through the town and headed to the incline. I walked up what seemed like an eternal hill, and saw Dave, Tricky, Stevie G, Pete, Aaron & Mark. I saw Ryan at the foot of the hill by the entrance to North Beach where he then remained for the run duration I had made into the first aid station and realised I had dropped two of my three gels. Luckily I had over packed my personal needs bags with gels so I only had to make it to the end of the lap . I knew I wanted to have at least 1 gel every 35-40 mins but I needed water to take with it. So the one gel I did have I took at aid station one, and the order of the day for every aid station was water, electrolytes , cola (on the odds) jelly babies and water to finish.
I lost track a few times of where I was, but my watch kept me in check. My legs felt good, and more importantly, my knee which I was really concerned about. I waited for the crest of the hill and then began to run the downhill and flats. It was a long way to the furthest out and back point which was made up with a mix of running and walking. I walked up to New Hedges to the band collection point and got my red band. 1 down 3 to go. The weather was still rubbish and it was wet and miserable. It had been all day. This was the real test.
I remember running pretty much all of the remaining walk run intervals until I got into the town. I knew I couldn’t get too carried away. My wife was stood opposite Ryan on North beach entrance and was changing signs at every pass. She kept shouting at me that I was going to do it, but I couldn’t do the maths in my head or contemplate that I still had another three laps ( which would have been the furthest I had ever ran).
I got to the personal needs and grabbed my additional gels, and knocked back some 400mg Ibuprofen tablets. (x2 – yes 400mg). and then I set to running through the town. I had changed in T2 into my trisuit for ease and comfort when running. The only downside, it fit me perfectly 18 months 2 years ago, when I was 2 stone lighter. The run was the second time of the day when I felt like I didn’t belong. I felt huge, and was extremely self-conscious of myself. I didn’t see anyone the same size or larger than me on the course. I had done the work, but deep down, I knew this part of the day would have been far easier for two years ago me, rather than today me, but I thought, that’s life, get on with it.
I came through the town for the first time, and the crowds were phenomenal. Contrary to the above, I found it endearing seeing the people in the street patting me on the back shouting “Come on big lad”.
I wandered and weaved through the town, ran past my accommodation (on the finishing straight) and incidentally the 13 mile marker board(I was still on mile 6). I then saw The Heywoods, Molly just before the finish line turn and said 3 to go. I had gone through several aid stations to that point repeating the above, and was pleased to see another aid station with toilets.
I bumped into a couple of work friends who were also competing, but I had no idea where on their race they were. But we ran together and chatted for a while, before my run walk interval separated us. Whilst it was nice for the company, I was doing my own race so I couldn’t afford to burn the little matches I had left for the sake of being social.
Every time I saw a friendly face I put on a brave face and I started lap two. I thought to myself, 1 more lap, then a pain lap, and then in true Luke Taylor style, a Bonus lap. Once this was in my head, I just kept on saying this to anyone and everyone.
I realised it took me just over an hour and 20 minutes to do 10 km. I was doing the maths in my head and it couldn’t get the maths to math. Literally my head was all over the place. I took a few minutes to compose myself and then realised I could cycle my watch to show total time. I looked down at the total time and realised that I had a total time of 11 hours and 1o minutes. I had 30 km to go. Back in July I did On A Plod MCR and did 30 k in 4 hours 40 total time. I worked out that if I did the same lap time that I had just done, it would take me approximately 4 hours. The maths were finally mathing. I was under 17 hours. I was far from done, but at the first aid station on the second lap, I started to realise that I just had to get it home. Like I’ve been told, I’m a stubborn bugger and I have a bucket load of resilience. Yes, I will complain, I will say its hurting, but I never give up.
I made it up the hill and to the turn around point and it was starting to get darker and darker, and wetter and wetter. The turn around point was pretty much just a flood light in the distance. The crowds were still out, and fair play to them, the weather was grim. It had been grim all day and they did not give up, so why on earth would I.
I collected my blue band and then headed back to the town, maintaining the plan. At some point I heard my name being shouted and looked and waved, and realised it was Chris B. I felt awful that I hadn’t realised it was him and made sure that I actually acknowledged him the next time I saw him. I made it back to the busy corner before the personal needs and did a time check with Ryan and then called my number out to the personal needs helpers as I passed to collect on my return. I made it into the town and began to weave through the town. I felt an arm come round my shoulder, and it was Aaron about to finish his race and day. He told me, “Its dark out there just keep moving forward, you got this” . I got through the town passed the 13 mile board and took the turn for lap 3.
Straight into another aid station and toilet stop (Something I think I clearly nailed – hydration was on point).
And so it started, the pain lap, in the dark, the no mans land. This lap felt lonelier that the others, although, I did manage to see Hannah, a number of times, I might have even seen her before then, but in all honesty, if did start to become a bit of a haze.
I made it through the town and jogged to the foot of the hill and then started walking up the hill to the first aid station. I did my usual fluid intake and went to the portaloo. I looked down to wee and felt like I was on a boat, I was weaving too and fro, like I had been on the town all night and had a skinfull. I began to worry that my body may give up despite me telling my mind it was going to be ok. I pushed on to the out and back points and collected my yellow band, 3 down and one to go. I remember looking down at my hands and thinking my hands were puffy and inflamed. I kept trying to shake them out.
I made it back to the busy personal needs junction and back to the bag and went to take on board some more ibuprofen tablets. I put them in my mouth but had the sudden realisation that I hadn’t had 4 hours between them and promptly spat them out. (It actually turns out, that I was only supposed to take one at a time so I had overdone that anyway) As I came to my wife at the junction by the North Beach Entrance, she told me that Jon M was just in front of me. I literally called bull s*** right there and then, but true to her words, Jon was 100-150 metres up the road from me. I walked the incline up the hill and then spent the first bit of the town section trying to make ground on him, until I finally caught him turning into the tight streets. We ran together on and off for a bit and chatted. I knew this pain lap was nearly over and that I was going to finish by hook or by crook, and I was going to finish. We yo-yo’d through the town ticking off mileboards, and heading up the finishing straight together for the penultimate time. I stopped for another aid station and Jon Stopped to speak to Michelle., and Chris B’s wife Becky. Both of us stood there, 3 bands on, with just the bonus lap to go. I looked at my clock at some point and had just clicked over 14 hours or so. I could walk the whole of the lap and still finish. I was with my emotional support athlete and friend who had guided me through the start, it was only fitting he helped me through the end too…
We headed out together out of town and then we parted ways. I walked every incline and most of the rolling stuff as I wanted to make sure I could run towards the end. The last lap was different still. Yes it was the bonus lap (Thanks Luke Taylor) and the pain lap was gone, but this felt different. It was harder to run, and not feel sick, and by now, what I knew was blisters on my feet were starting to make them selves known. The crowds had subsided and it became a lonely place. I recall seeing both Chris B and Vannessa R on the run at several point both before and during this lap.
I made it up to the bright floodlit out and back point and Saw jon M for what was the final time. He gave me some vital advice to enjoy the process and soak up the atmosphere, and enjoy it, as it was going to happen, and then to the final band. I got my green band. That was number 4. I was on my way home. I tried to chuck in a run or two, even if it was for a minute or thirty seconds, no matter how much it hurt. and made my way back to the town. I made a point of saying thank you to every volunteer I saw. Without them it wouldn’t have happened. At the roundabouts on the mid point of the descent, a supporter said, you are near the end, you are a future IRONMAN. I said thanks, and that I wasn’t there yet, but it was like she knew what needed to be said at that moment in time. I made it back to the personal needs corner did the final out and back and went back through the town. I thanked and clapped everyone I saw who was cheering me just as an appreciation for their help and support, but I did not know them from Adam. I saw Stevie G stood at the side of the road proudly wearing his medal and his family who had supported me every time I passed that corner were all cheering and clapping. Moments like this push you on when you are so close.
I had been counting down the mile boards, and before I turned the straight with MIleboard 26 on, I had just seen Sinead looking strong chasing me down, and then saw Tricky , who had finished, outside the chipshop screaming an shouting at me.
I saw the mile 26 board, and touched it and remember saying “Mile 2 f******* 6” as I did so. I knew was what coming round the corner.
I turned the corner and could hear the music. The finish line was in sight. Adrenaline took over. I knew I had to ring the bell, that was my target. I ran to the bell and check there was no one around me, and rang that bell good and hard. I had earnt that bell ring. What I didn’t realise until afterwards that My Wife, Pete and Jess were stood right opposite that bell, and I didn’t even acknowledge them, I didn’t even know they were there, despite them calling my name.
I looked along the red and black carpet and saw the arch, I saw the M dot on top, I was there. I just had to finish, so I just ran towards the line. It was all a blur from that point onwards. I cant remember hearing those words “ADRIAN, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN” . I just remember clenching my fists and shouting as I looked down. I had done it, I had completed IRONMAN Wales. 12 months of training, of sacrifices , of ups and downs had all come to this. I felt pumped and elated. I felt unstoppable. That finish was mine in person, but in spirit it belonged to Coach Charlie for getting me there, for supporting me, training and coaching me. For believing in me and making me believe I could do it. It was for my family for their support and their “suffering “ through the previous 12 months and for them to see that I could do it. Something I thought could never be done, by me anyway,
FINISH TIME 15 HOURS 50 MINUTES 52 SECONDS – STATUS – IRONMAN.
I took my medal from the Mayor, and then heard my name and saw a familiar face. It was Mark Rod. I said, “Don’t worry Ness isn’t far behind” and he just put his arms around me. I’m not at all ashamed to say that with this, I went from pumped and elated to a blubbering mess and then cried on his shoulder. I was just in disbelief that I had done it. Yes I had worked hard and got myself through a tough day on one of the toughest IRONMAN Races on the circuits, but it reduced me to a blubbering mess.
I walked up the small incline, which felt like a bloody mountain, into the recovery tent and had my mind set on one thing…. I want my finishers top!!! So that’s exactly what I did and where I went. My wife appeared in the tent as she was my official registered helper, and she hugged me, and at that point, cue round two of the tears…. What I came to learn was this was to be a common feature for the days to follow.
I was hungry, and I mean Hungry but I only managed to eat three bits of pizza in the recovery tent post race, mainly because I didn’t want to queue and that was all the Mark Rod got me. I remember thinking myself lucky that I didn’t collapse like some poor chap who flattened the barrier in the tent and ended up on a stretcher with the medics.
It was nice to see all my club mates, my fellow warriors that had slayed that dragon and told IRONMAN Wales that we were capable and we did it. We chatted, we hugged and then slowly but surely we went our separate ways . I had no concept of time, and I was desperate to get my kit, to go to my accommodation, shower, change and then get a takeaway pizza. There was only one downside, it was now Monday morning all be it the very early hours and nothing was open. So I ended up going without food.
I collected my kit with my wife and then walked back to my accommodation. In all honesty, I can’t really remember much more than that apart from getting next to no sleep and being a shivering mess in bed.
I woke up on Monday morning and became a FKW (Full kit w*****), head to toe in my finishers top and merch that I had spent my hard earnt cash on. I had gone and done it. I was still in complete disbelief. I have done what I set out to achieve , and that was my one and done. I set out to finish and my side quest was to finish in the 15 hours bracket. I did both. The time in all honesty was irrelevant. To finish the event was the achievement in the first place. All that matters is that I am an IRONMAN . I am in the 0.01 % of the world that has completed that feat.
