The IM WA 4th Dec 2011

Fuck has to be one of the most versatile and arresting verbs in the English language. The Ironman and fuck, or more specifically it's adjectival relative 'fucking', went together perfectly for me last Sunday in Busselton,Western Australia. I wasn't counting the number of times I said it or heard it said, but it was with us all day. And one of my favouite expressions, Fuck Me Dead, was said more often than usual as the day progressed. But then when I thought about it for only a second, I didn't enter an event known as the Ironman and expect it to be a walk over. So let's talk about the Ironman.

Sunday 3:30am: Weight 71.2kgs.
I bounced up at 3.30am, an hour earlier than usual and had toast, some carb drink (PSP), and a banana for breakfast, as recommended by Paul (POD). Not that tasty but it did the job. Simon and Rebecca collected me at 4.15am and together with Mark (one of the famous Branagan brothers) we were off to the jetty. As we waited for the start of the swim, there was so much nervous tension in the air you could almost touch it. People were giving each other high-fives and hugs and generally doing their best to calm the nerves for the day ahead. Simon and I chatted away, oblivious to what each other was saying. I was talking to him on his deaf side and he was talking to me with both earplugs in. It was deep and meaningful. I found myself feeling totally calm and can remember really enjoying the atmosphere. I had a plan for the day and nothing was going to divert me from it. The plan was to ignore the pain and enjoy the event.

5:45am THE SWIM

Geographe Bay was not its usual calm self and by the time I hit the back end of the jetty it was bumpy and messy. There were people taking this far more seriously than I was at this early stage. Quite a few swam right over the top of me, which started to become a bit annoying. By the time I was getting close to the 2km mark, I’d had enough and resisted anyone trying to push through. Then once around the end of the jetty I even started to overtake a few swimmers. On the swim back to the beach I went a bit wide and probably added an extra 100 metres to the course at least. As it turned out the swim was the fun part of the day and I managed to complete it in my predicted time. After 1hr 22mins I was out and off to T1, the first transition.

7:07am T1 (SWIM – BIKE TRANSITION)
At 12mins 29secs T1 proved to be the longest leg of the day. Now I know why people practice this stuff. Eoin for example managed it in 3mins 3secs; POD did it in 2mins 38secs (he must sleep with his bike shoes on!!); Howsey did it in an even better 2mins 33secs; Mark managed 7mins 37 secs (his first IM) and Simon managed it in 5mins 35secs in his first IM.

NOTE to self #1: don't pay attention to advice from IM WA. The advice said you're better to sew your numbers onto your top. Gene was kind enough to do this. Mine then ripped off as I was putting it on in T1 and I spent the next couple of minutes wandering around asking for some safety pins. When I got eventually found some, I didn't have my glasses and couldn't for the life of me put the number back on. I then found a volunteer who helped me out. That took me another couple of minutes. Then I managed to put sun cream all over my sunnies and eventually had to ask a volunteer if I could use her T-shirt to wipe the glasses clean. Major little time wasters.

NOTE to self #2: be prepared and move your arse!

7:29am THE BIKE
The bike leg was not one I was looking forward to, even though it's my favourite discipline of the three. The course comprised 3 x 60km laps, 180kms all up. It was blowing a gale by the time I exited T1, so the ride out to the forest was hot, windy and hard work, but to my surprise I enjoyed it. The recurring pain in my right shoulder showed no signs of turning up and the ride back into town with a brilliant tail wind was as much fun as you can have dressed in lycra and bright blue shoes. Down on the TT bars, in the biggest gear possible and pushing hard. You really know you're alive. As Ken Robinson would say: I was in my element.

Then at exactly 62kms as I rode out on the start of lap 2, the pain appeared. A sharp stab in the right shoulder that stayed for the remainder of the ride. It was like someone sticking a knife into my shoulder and became incredibly annoying, making it impossible to get comfortable and meaning I had to continually shift in the saddle to stay on the bike. I popped about 6 Panadol over an hour then accidently dropped the other 6 on the road somewhere. They didn't seem to be making much difference anyway so I didn't bother going back for them. Of course I then discovered, after the Panadol wore off, that they were making a bit of a difference, but by then it was too late to turn back and search for the ones I’d dropped. From thereon in with 118kms still to go, the ride was long, hot and incredibly uncomfortable. I stopped at each water station, filled up the bidons, covered myself in ice cold water and threw down as much fluid as I could handle.

One thing I did to take my attention off the pain, was note the sort of bikes people had and the riding kit they were wearing. There was a lot of money on that course. The standout for me was a young woman in a stunning black and white chequered outfit, on what looked to be a $20,000 bike, topped off with a state of the art aero helmet. The only problem was she was at least half a lap behind me, and I was a threat to no-one. Still she looked the goods and eventually passed me on the run!

The shoulder pain was simply an exercise in mind over matter, which everyone on the course was experiencing in some shape or form, so I felt good knowing I was part of the IM club. I thought of Mitch doing the same event on the same course last year and being so sick that he vomited, then still managed to finish in 10hrs, 32mins. And Enda in the same event in 2009 finishing in 9hrs 47mins and being so wacked when he came across the finish line that he had to be put on a drip. It's safe to say it's not an event for the faint hearted. My approach was to remind myself that all I had to do was keep pedalling and soon enough I'd be off the bike. This always works and after 6hrs 43mins and 15secs the ride was done. What sublime relief. I was impressed, weirdly enough, even though it was me I was impressed by. So I gave myself a little pat on the back and headed into T2 to get stuck into the run.

By way of a little diversion here, what makes this possible is having people at the event cheer you on and getting updates from Gene on the number of people who were in contact to check that I was still alive. I was also wearing my BRATS gear and that got a shout every time from people I'd never met before. It's amazing what a lift you get hearing people shout your name as you ride past and Etienne, Gene and Melanie all did their part here, making lots of noise each time I came into town. It was brilliant, unforgettable and a huge boost. 13 hours and 44 mins is a long time for them to be hanging around waiting for me to finish. There should be medals for the supporters as well. They put in the same hours.

2.11pm T2 BIKE - RUN
I managed T2 slightly better than T1 but still as slow as a wet week in comparison to most others. By now I was 8hrs and 5mins into the event and still had 42kms to run. The marathon was looking like it was going to be a hot one. The temperature hovered between 33 - 35C and I overheard a couple of guys saying it was 41C on some parts of the course. It probably wasn't but they were walking the marathon, so I guess it was for them.

2:18pm THE RUN – THE MARATHON

Running marathons, people will tell you that the race doesn't really start until the last 10kms. I heard the same said of the Ironman: that it doesn't really start until you're on the run. For me it was the bike, but I agree completely with the sentiment. As I wandered out of T2 and started running, and you run past the finish chute every 10kms, I heard the winner being announced as he crossed the finish line in 8hrs 12mins 39secs. Unbelievable and guaranteed to give you a bit of a hurry up. I started the marathon a little after 2pm with the sun belting down and bouncing back off the tarmac. I was feeling fine, again for the first 5 or so kms and then I started to feel a pain in the left knee, which stayed with me the whole way. I'm unable to run freely as my knee objects; a consequence of osteoporosis and various other degenerative bits and pieces. So I've developed a low impact style of running and was curious to see if I could last the distance, not having run a marathon since the Gold Coast in July 2009.

I was loaded up with salt tablets and determined not to dehydrate, as I knew both Gene and Ange were worried that Mr Wobbly would make another appearance and that would be the end of my IM attempt. This was where the POD IM school of tuition came into its own. My tutor was Enda and the text book was written by Paul. It worked a treat. I took a gel every half hour, had a drink of water and Gatorade every alternate drink station and dropped a salt tablet every hour. On top of that I stuck ice cubes in my lime green running hat (NOTE: visors are fine for speedsters, but crap for plodders. If you don't want your brain to fry, keep it on ice!). On top of that I took a paper cup filled with ice and stuck it inside my running top right next to my heart. I'd read a theory that it keeps your blood cool as it all goes via the heart. Seemed to work for me. POD's hydration/food/energy intake advice worked like a charm. At least for me. At one stage I bumped into the man himself who was bent over all cramped up, not having hydrated sufficiently on the bike, or some such thing. He had a km to go at that stage (I was just finishing my first 10km lap I think) and it must have killed him to have the finish in site and be unable to sprint to the line ( in fact he couldn't move when I saw him). He still managed to finish in 9hrs 38mins 55 secs and come in 10th in his age group and 47th over all. Quite remarkable under the circumstances.

Back at the ranch the run was becoming increasingly painful with the sun at full bore and the knee being uncooperative. As I started my last lap Gene came with me for a few minutes and passed on messages from people which gave me a huge lift. It's quite amazing what a difference the support made on the day.

I was determined not to walk at all in the marathon (it's a run after all, not a walk) and except at the drink stations, I managed to run the whole distance. On the last lap I thought about the marathons we'd run and took my inspiration from Ange's effort in the last GC marathon where she did it tough. To take my mind off the pain I started chatting to people. One bloke who looked about my age had given the run away and was walking. I gave him a pat on the back and he took up beside me, gave him some salt tablets and swapped a few war stories about the day. I then left him as he stopped to have a drink and take the salt tab. He caught up about 10mins later and as he passed me he said thanks and headed off, wishing me luck. About 15mins later I came up behind him again and he picked up to keep up with me for a second time. The conversation was repeated but this time he opted to walk and I left him behind. I started feeling better the longer the run went for the sole reason that by this stage of proceedings almost no one was passing me and I was passing everyone. Not a huge feat as most of them were walking. Nonetheless it felt good.

And at both the north and south ends of the course there were these wonderful groups of spectators. My favourites were the dozen or so locals at the north end of the course. They were dressed appropriately in party gear and swimmers, had sun shades set up, a barbie cooking all afternoon, hoses running if you wanted a spray (I did every time) and the best selection of music blaring out. The first time I came past they shouted out go Macca, did a little dance, got me to respond and cheered me on. The second time they asked me how many laps I had to go and promised to be there till the end. They sent me on with shouts and music blaring and I clapped along with them. The third lap they announced I was their favourite IM (to be) and when I came around on the final lap they all stood and gave me high 5s and cheered me on. It was a load of fun and took my mind off the knee completely.

By this time the sun was setting which was a huge relief. Coming into the final 4kms I asked a bloke I was passing if it was his final lap. He said it was but he couldn't run any more. He said he wanted to beat that bastard Tony Abbott, but doubted he'd get there in time so I let him know I'd do it on his behalf, and I did. As I got closer to the finish I could hear the noise of the announcer and the cheers of the supporters and in the final 1km lots of people gave me high 5s and cheered me on which gives you a real lift. I finally picked up my orange wrist band (a black and finally an orange each time you complete a lap) meaning about 200 metres to go and then I came into the final 100 metre chute.

It was quite an emotional experience. I was the only person in the chute - no one in front or behind me and people were crowded along the way all slapping their hands on the railings and shouting go Macca. It was starting to get dark by now. The last person I saw before I crossed the finish line was Simon who came in over an hour earlier. I heard the announcer shout out; here comes John McDonald from the famous Bondi BRATS club. Go John, go. Then the words I'd been waiting for all day: John McDonald You Are An Ironman. Now that felt brilliant!

I dropped into the arms of two volunteers, had a finish medal plonked around my neck, gave Gene and Etienne a kiss and headed around to sit down and take it all in.

It really was a memorable day. I'm going to get an IM tattoo over Xmas and think some more about the experience. I appreciate now all the guys I know who compete in an IM experience, from the decision to do one, through the training and then through the event itself. I borrowed Conor's wheels after he took a tumble in training and owe him big time for that. Louise and Conor, Enda and Ange, Kristy, Michelle, Marc and Louise all gave me words of encouragement over dinner the night before I left for Perth and sent me off with faith that I could finish.

Enda as always is one of life's generous souls and helped through all the details right down to driving me to the airport. Ange trained with me on my less than exemplary runs right through to the end. Joe and Janice were texting to see how I was doing and Laura kept in via text. Etienne flew to Perth and kept Gene company for the day (well done mate and I promise to do the same for you) and his cousin Melanie drove a 4 hour round trip to push me along. Gil and Ruby stayed in touch via the internet and even Gene’s Mum, Liz , kept asking how I was doing. Jade and Bala in London sent messages of support and the family in Wollongong did likewise, while Pascale and Yanni checked in to see whether I was still moving.

And as always I had our little Sweetheart Gabrielle with me the whole way thinking of how she used to crack up at her old man and knowing she would have sparkled every time I went past. And last of all, my best mate and Sweetheart, Gene has to be the most patient, supporting and loving wife a bloke could ever hope to have. She put up with the preparation, cooked the most spectacular meals, did most of my running training for me, didn’t bat an eye as I kept spending money on tri gear and looked after all the logistics to make it a real team effort. She’s still letting me carry on about it and even thinking of signing up herself for the Sprint in Husskie in February 2012.

Thanks My Darling.

Now what do you say: let's do it again . . .