2008 Ironman Canada Race Report

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It was a first for me: two IMs in a year: Lanza in May and Canada in August: 3 months apart – should be fine…..

After Lanzarote I was feeling pretty good and anticipating a bit of a break then a few weeks of maintaining the usual formula of a long bike and a long run each week, bike commuting to work 3 or 4 days a week (30 mile round trip) and a bit of other stuff thrown in. No swimming obviously, because that’s just tedious, and it spoils my hair.

Inevitably things don’t go to plan, and sometime in early July when I thought I would be doing a few decent century rides I had a recurrence of an old back niggle which puts my lower back in spasm and rules out pretty much everything apart from lying on the floor and moaning. I probably ended up with about three weeks out of my schedule when I should have been peaking (I’m using “schedule” and “peaking” in a purely indicative way here - I have no idea what they actually are) A few sessions at the physio helped but I did feel I was a bit underprepared as August rolled around. Whatever, it’s only a race.

You can’t really just nip over to Canada for the weekend, so when I entered last year we decided that this would be a family holiday, and probably our last one together as our eldest Josh is nearly 18 and will no doubt want to be on the opium trail or something similar on his own next year. Our youngest, Daniel (who was 4 while we were away) was madly excited and was asking from about February when we would be “At Canada”

Getting 5 of us to Canada for two weeks was fiercely expensive and definitely a once in a lifetime trip unless my lottery numbers come up. And I don’t even do the lottery so its unlikely. Let’s just say the race entry fee felt like change compared to the overall cost.



With non essential organs sold, credit cards maxed and piggy banks lying in smoking ruins we left Manchester on Friday 15th and arrived - via Vancouver and an overnight stop in Hope – on Saturday 16th, a full week ahead of the race.

The race has been based in Penticton since it started 26 years ago and it is an awesome setting for IM racing, or pretty much anything outdoors. Penticton is in the Okanagan region of British Columbia, an area which is truly stunning. It’s like a very big Wales but with Alpine lakes, amazing roads and fruit farms galore. It’s also the centre of Canadian wine production and there are vineyards everywhere. The climate is typically hot in the summer (Doh – that would be why the fruit grows…) and with little enough rainfall to be classified as a desert.

We were staying about 12k up the road in Naramata and were delighted when we rolled into Bare Creek Lodge that it was indeed exactly like the pictures we had seen on the net. In fact I was pretty delighted that there was a house there at all as I had done all the payment by email to a bloke who may well have been sitting in a cyber café in Clacton. Result! With 5 of us staying for two weeks a hotel would have been prohibitive and this was simply perfect – Creek in the huge garden, barbies on the sun deck and deer and a marmot visiting from time to time. No beaver, sadly, so we just enjoyed the wildlife.





The Marmot

Most of my previous IM jaunts have entailed arriving at the race venue with 48 hours or less before the race so it was very luxurious to have a full week in such a wonderful place to acclimatise and potter about. There is loads to do and the two main lakes have superb beaches so the family were happy and I had plenty of time to count and recount my CO2 cylinders and other pre race shenanigans.

Matt (360) was already out with his Canadian wife Julie (who originates from just up the road) so we were able to hook up for a swim early in the week and then a 40 or 50k spin out on the bike to ease the legs on the Wednesday. Throughout the week there is loads of race related stuff to do so on the Thursday evening Daniel did the 1K kids fun run and Carole (Mrs.Repo) did the 5k race. There was a great atmosphere around and all of this made for a really good build up to the race.



To the victor, the spoils…..



Mrs. Repo in the 5K

It’s worth noting that the merchandising machine around the race is unreal, maybe all North American M Dot races are like this but it has to be seen to be believed. In the race village at Lakeshore park (?) there are the usual trade stands (excellent Gatorade freebies – kept the kids in soft drinks for a few days) alongside a giant marquee selling every conceivable bit of Ironman tat you could imagine from shot glasses to trailer hitch covers to coffee: if it moves, put an M Dot on it. Every kind of tee shirt, vest, cycle top, shorts, socks and so on was available too. It seems that if you have completed an Ironman, are in training for one, or are related to one there is something for you: “Ironman in training”, “Iromate”, “Future Ironman”, “My Daddy’s an Ironman”, “ My two headed hermaphrodite dwarf love child is an Ironman” and so on…

I registered on Thursday and everything was very smooth: the volunteers were brilliant and everything was friendly and efficient. There are something like 5000 volunteers who support the race from a population of 60,000 and it really is true that the whole town gets behind the race in a way that we simply couldn’t conceive of in the UK.

My main extravagance at the expo was a pair of Newton running shoes for Mrs. Repo and I: all I can so far is that they are fantastic: superlight, yet cushioned, fast and comfy.

On Friday there was a street party on Main Street which was brilliant: about 4 different bands playing, food vendors, stalls and so on: great stuff. While this was on the pasta party and race brief took place at the Convention Centre and this gave the first real indication of how big the race is (2300 competitors) – it was a huge room and it was packed. The grub was OK (but wouldn’t have been worth the $25 partner ticket price) but the content was pretty rudimentary – there was nothing that wasn’t covered in the detailed race pack and the few schmaltzy videos of people who had overcome some kind of personal difficulty to be a the race were a bit mawkish to be honest.

Bike racking was on Saturday afternoon and the long run up in the week preceding meant that my transition bags were all packed well in advance so I had a leisurely mooch around transition checking out the bikes. Cervelo’s presence is simply massive: I would guestimate that close on 1 in 3 bikes was a Cevelo of some kind. I did see one other Planet X when I was at the Bike Barn earlier in the week owned by a Belgian guy who had also done Lanzarote earlier in the year. He came 12th evidently so I wasn’t far behind him.

I went to the Parade of Nations on Saturday night and despite being a real old cynic actually quite enjoyed it. I was the only Brit there so I covered off flag waving and grinning duties on my own. Something like 22 countries were represented in the race and most of them were at the parade, led down Main Street by a pipe band and ending up with a civic welcome in Gyro Park from the Mayor. Back home for a big steak on the barbie with loads of pasta and salad then tucked up in bed by about 10.



Not much rallying round the flag going on here then…

Race morning started at about 04.00 with the first of 3 alarms with a back up phone call to the mobile at 04.30 from the in laws back in blighty: there was no way I was going to oversleep. I had my usual pre race breakfast of porridge with bananas and honey and a big mug of tea, the kids were (extremely reluctantly) roused and we were off down to transition by about 05.30. There was the usual bottle faffing, tyre pumping and fretting but all in it was pretty relaxed and I was into the swim pen for about 06.30.

It was starting to get light at this point and although slightly cloudy I could feel a strong southerly wind blowing and I new that the outward leg of the bike was going to be tough. The swim takes place in Okanagan lake and the atmosphere on the beach was brilliant: although I had my usual anxiety of wanting to get the swim underway I was really up for it. It was my 46th birthday after all, and I was going to have fun. The pros went off at 06.45 and Bittersweet Symphony on the PA led in to the age group start at 07.00. Come on!

As usual I seeded myself well back and to the side of the start and it was probably a minute after the gun went off before I actually started swimming. The swim course is a one lap triangular affair with about 1800m before the first right hand turn around a house boat: I’m never going to be a swimmer so I’m always in damage limitation mode during the swim but I felt pretty good and despite the congestion of 2000+ swimmers I didn’t get bashed about too much and even swam on a few feet at various points. It was quite nice to actually have some company rather than being floundering just in front of the broom canoe and I felt that I was in a pack of sorts all the way round. I glanced at my watch at the next turn and figured that I was on for about 1.25 (usual target is 1.20 to 1.30) and ended up scrambling up the beach at 1.24 so I was pretty OK with that.

Swim: 1.24

I knew it was indeed my birthday when two teenage girls told me to lie on my back with my legs in the air while they started taking my clothes off: ahh, wetsuit strippers, you gotta love ‘em. Transition was pretty smooth and the bike park wasn’t completely empty when I picked up the Stealth so I trotted out to the mount line on Lakeshore Drive feeling pretty good and ready for the best part of the day.

And then it went t1ts up for about 8 hours.

Heading out up Main Street through the crowds was brilliant and despite the stiff headwind I was feeling great as the course rolled out South alongside Skaha Lake (which later formed the run course) I was in head down mode, not thrashing it but riding briskly and passing everyone. Indeed, I passed over 200 people by the first climb at Mclean Creek Road about 20K in. I had my first glug of pre mixed Power Bar gel and water from my bottle after about 20 minutes and ….didn’t feel too good. An hour or so later I was on the rolling stretch from Oliver to Osoyoos and had had some more gel and about half a bottle of Nuun / Maltodextrin mix and still felt uncomfortable but was riding strongly. It’ll pass I thought, just think of all those Cervelos you are passing…



Climbing Richter

Osoyoos Lake marks pretty much the southerly end of the course and it is here at about 67k that you turn into the first major climb of the day, Richter Pass. This was a mixed blessing: you turned out of the wind and headed back North but at exactly this point the sun really broke through and started to beat down as I headed up the 10km climb. It’s tough - but not a monster - at an average of 6% but after about 2k my mojo decided to feck off and I started going backwards. Instead of counting off people I’d passed, they started coming past me and my guts were now really moaning at me as well. The climb was a slog and and when I eventually reached the top I felt flat and demoralised rather than elated. Whatever it’ll pass, keep going.

The section after Richter is known as the Rollers and, in my mental condition at least was deeply tedious. It was maybe 15-20K of rolling switchbacks that saw you going from 75kmh on the downhills to 10kmh on the subsequent climbs. About 10 times in a row: Damncoskuckincanadianarsebiscuithills. I knew I had to keep feeding so I forced down a Clif bar and some other gels alongside the odd salt tablet to try and ward off any cramp later. They work too, great invention. The guts weren’t working though, and they were grumbling like a cantankerous old man: I would have happily pooed my pants if it would have helped but a low velocity fart was the best I could manage.

It was on this section that I first started to rue my wheel choice: I had the same 101 / 82 combo that I had ridden very successfully at Trentham and thought I would be fine. Not so: despite my lardy 180lbs I felt badly blown around on the downhills and didn’t have the confidence to really get down on the bars and let rip. 50s next time I think.

After the Rollers comes the famed Out and Back section which is the does-what-it-says-on-the tin loop which I guess makes up the distance and takes you out to the special needs bag pick up. I had high hopes that my peanut butter and jam sandwiches would remedy my stomach ailments but no chance: I would have been better off eating the spare CO2 cartridges I had also stashed: they might at least have prompted some kind of sphinctal salvation.

Being down on the tri bars trying to force in a dry sandwich while moaning and groaning into the wind is not a great look, but whatever, it’ll pass: I’m sure to feel better soon.

After Keremeos and Olalla you get to the final big climb of the day up to Yellow Lake. This comes at about 140k into the bike and is a long grind of about 8k leading up to the Yellow Lake (which is actually green). This is not an alpine style climb by any means but a relentless pain in the ass nonetheless. Picture a long, A road climb where you get an overtaking lane all the way up and you get the idea. Spectator support towards the top was brilliant (as it was all the way round) with the climb coned off to traffic all the way up allowing spectators to park up and line the road. Alongside the usual “Go Brad!” and “Way to go Daddy” there were some more oblique encouragements: A Mr. Burns-esque “No Lollygagging!” on one sign and a statuesque young lady in a tee shirt saying “Save a bike – ride an Ironman!”

I wouldn’t say that my stomach felt better up the climb but at least the effort gave me something else to think about. I knew that it was mostly downhill all the way back but I didn’t really even enjoy that: 20 or 30K of wide open swooping downhill was tempered by swooping cross and tail winds which meant I was descending like a pussy. Stomach report: still miserable and my second sandwich was binned uneaten.

The final run into town couldn’t fail to lift the spirits a bit but I rolled into transition with some trepidation that running rather than cycling would make no difference to my stomach.

Bike: 6.20

And sure enough, I wasn’t disappointed! I sat down with my run bag and felt like a sack of sh1t. I didn’t know how I was going to fare on the run but suspected that it would be badly. Greased up my feet, put on the Garmin, pulled on a vest and visor and headed out……to the portaloo. Surely If I can just crimp one off it must help the guts but nada: completely eggbound.

Immediately after transition the run goes up and down Lakeshore Drive before heading south down Main Street. I saw the family on Lakeshore and they had chalked up a great Go Daddy! message on the course which was brilliant and perked me up for a while until I settled into my shuffle and started feeling sorry for myself again. No matter, it’s just a bad patch, it’ll pass. It now started to drizzle with rain too.

The run is pretty much flat for about the first 15k and then there are maybe 5k of hills out to the turnaround and then the same thing in reverse. Support all the way along the course is great, albeit thinning out a bit on the hilly bits where the long dark night of the soul really begins.

After the first 5k or so I was out onto the lakeside section and the guts were still moaning. I was determined to keep feeding though, as even if I ended up walking the whole way I knew I’d need it so I was alternating water, gels and coke at the feed stations which came every mile. I managed to blow a few guffs off but the stomach was still in knots.

In Lanzarote I managed to run the whole marathon but pretty early on I knew that this wasn’t going to happen today. As I wound up to the first hilly section my feed station walks dragged on a bit longer each time and I fell into step with a few walkers when the first big hill came. Support and camaraderie amongst fellow competitors was great and being it was a one lap race, you always knew that your running / walking mates were at the same position in the race as you. I tried to greet or acknowledge everyone when I could and the grim community of suffering started to ease the miles along. That little bit of interaction feeds the soul a bit and however clichéd it, was welcome:

“Way to go, buddy”
“Looking strong”
“Not far now”
“We’re going to make it”

And slightly inaccurately from one guy:

“There’s no i in quit!”

The run turnaround was at OK Falls where I ignored the can of Red Bull in my special needs bag and trudged back up the hill on the return leg.

And then something really strange happened.

I heard this rumble and skid and out of a huge cloud of dust, my mojo rolls up on a low rider Harley, jumps off, spits on the floor and says “F*ck me, you look like crap you bitch, pull yourself together and let’s rock. I recommend the chicken soup”

It was an epiphany: I don’t know if my stomach felt better or I just forgot about it but suddenly I was back in the game. Don’t worry it’ll pass – just be patient. I ran up all the way up the next hill where everyone else was walking and not one person passed me for the next 15k until the finish. I started drinking the chicken soup at the feed stations and boy it was good. I was so enthused I didn’t even want to walk so I sloshed it down the gullet and chest on the hoof.

It was now fully raining but I didn’t care. I started to stretch out my stride on the downhills and recalculate my finish time. At the start of the run I was definitely thinking hobble round in about 13.30 at best but as I padded along the flat section by the lake I thought 13 might be possible if I kept it up. At the end of the lake I knew I was about 5 or 6k away and still going strong and getting stronger and the crowds lining the streets lifted me further. I knew I was running strong and the Garmin subsequently showed 8 minute miles for the last 3.

As I approached the last couple of miles to Main Street I could see that sub 13 was on and I pushed it further: how about 12.45? Need to up it a bit more….

I turned onto the out and back final kilometre along Lakeshore Drive and I was feeling fantastic: I saw the family by the roadside and the finish gantry up ahead: a final push and I was breaking the tape at 12.46.

Run 4.43

Overall 12.46.09



Praise the Lord!

It wasn’t a PB – far from it – but that last half of the run more than made up for the 11 hours that went before and made it into a special race in other ways. There is no doubt that this is a fantastic IM: a great course – and tougher than I expected – brilliant people and a wonderful location. In some ways the time wasn’t important, it was the journey that counts.

God knows what went wrong with the stomach and there’s no point agonising about it. I wasn’t using my usual Torq gels because my Wiggle order didn’t arrive in time, so I had to use Power Bar ones: I’ve used them before with no problems though, so who knows.

I wearily scooped up my transition bags and bike and met up with the family who had stoically spent all day supporting me through sun and rain and had no doubt had enough by now. The finishers village was offering Dominos Pizza but I tried one bite and couldn’t face it and the pouring rain, dark and tents had turned the village into a sort of knackered Glastonbury without the redeeming music and drugs so I wasn’t encouraged to hang around. The Power Bar recovery shakes were delicious though.

The body damage inventory was pretty good: No extra black toe nails after the 4 I picked up at Trentham but I did pick up two deep gouges on my toes which must have happened in the swim. Someone swimming on my feet: who’d have thunk it. Sure I was aching a bit the next day but nothing like after Almere last year when I was going down stairs sideways for days afterwards. The Wednesday after the race I felt good enough to run a few k with no ill effects. I think I must have shagged my immune system in some way though, because now 10 days later I am sat here unable to swallow with a raging sore throat and aching bones.

My kit all stood up well and notwithstanding my other problems the Stealth was acceptably comfortable, particularly now I have fitted the S bend bars. Special mention to my 2XU endurance shorts: they have now weathered 3 IM races and are fantastic.

Next year? Lanzarote again I think, and then maybe back to Almere in August – there’s a PB that needs demolishing…..

Many thanks to the Repo family for indulging my ill advised adventures and to my TT buddies for your good wishes. And don’t forget, if you have a bad patch, it will pass eventually…

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Walk like The Clash, sing like The Supremes...