I did it

I did it!

I swam cycled and ran a total of 70.3 miles for 7 hours and 7 minutes (including a loo stop, shoe change and sun screen slapping!)

I fought for space over 1,2 miles of sea with 500 other girls and again as the 18-29 year old men caught me in the last 0.2 miles. I avoided chest and face kicks and managed, like a pro, to unzip my wetsuit and correctly lower it to its permitted hip height as I exited the water in 41 minutes - ahead of the 1:10hr cut off.
 

I rode 55 miles without falling off at the mount and the dismount. I rode up 7.7km of incline without ever putting a foot down and even overtaking a few other women. I took more than a dozen hairpin corners and descended (at the fastest point I would take my eyes off the road) at around 41kph and confidently kept a tight right line while more than 6 other cyclists attacked the same corners at double the speed. I crushed the insect that got stuck in my cycling top and kept stinging me! I pushed hard to reach 30kph in relentless headwinds in the final 30kms as other female competitors began to drop. I took 1:15hrs off my expected finish time.

And I ran 13.1 miles of loops in the sun while my arches got pins and needles and at the finish my hamstrings started to cramp. I completed the run only 10 mins slower than I have done on fresh legs. 

I was cheered by the best support crew ever: my mum and her 5 closest friends, Jon who had a might of logistics and maths to track me. And the men on the bike who passed me, reading my shirt and my name and calling it out to offer encouragement, humour, camraderie and respect.

I got my head round every rule and followed them to the T; no overtaking on the inside, no drafting within 10 metres, no outside assistance, where to pee and how to wear a race number...

And I smiled. A lot. Out of the water with a mouth numb with salt, coming off the bike, though with a forehead full of dismount concentration. Past locals sitting in their driveways calling "Vamos chica" and at small children on the run willing to high five a hand sticky with salt, sweat, gel, and snot. 

That day, I reached a milestone in my journey of learning what I can do with my body, how training can dramatically change its shape and abilities. And how strong the mind is to make a physical effort possible but also to prepare for success. 

I learned that no man is an island ' that I could not have done this without the practical financial support of my mum, as well as her love, that of Jon´s and of the sacrifices he made too. I learned that I needed the belief of my supporters that enveloped me 24-7 - some of my closest friends and some who are friends I have not yet met!

Most of all I learned how all of this can come together to creare an amazing fundraising opportunity for a cause I have been long associated with. How together we can spread the word about Freedom from Torture, how together we were able to put at least one life back together. Their dedication to torture survivors affects me to inspire you to support them too.
I return to the UK on the 21 May where I will attend the Freedom from Torture meeting that evening to report back on success. I know what we have already achieved - can we do more? Thank you for your support. If you know someone who would like to be part of this journey please share this email, my blog, or tell them about what we have achieved. Tell them what inspires you, and see if we can spread it just a little further.

Thank you.
Rowena
Half Iron Woman
Freedrom from Torture fundraiser
www.justgiving.com/halfirongirl

How to follow me on the race

We have purchased wifitogo so that Jon can update y'all. 

For brevity we will use the hashtag #IronRo - yes yes I know it should be half iron Ro pedants! But we only have 140 characters. 

If you're using any tracking remotely, spotted something from my spectator crew on facebook or waving from the Mallorcan sidelines, please take a moment to tweet using this hashtag

I am competitor 271 - Rowena Harding, age 35-39 Female (not pro!) Nationality Australia. Of course. 

You can get me on @rowenanews but anyone could be using it on race day and likewise Jon is on @thebeardyguy. 

If there's live tracking we will post the link here or some kind soul who finds it will post in the comments. 

See you there!

Transition plans

I'm no master of this bit so thought I would write down what I think I need to do... 

Transition 1:

Ask if I have made cut off in absolute disbelief. Pump fist in air that I have. Woop and celebrate then remember I have a long way to go. 

Walk from sea to transition – remember you can’t see well!

Dislocate shoulder attempting to undo wet suit at top. After third attempt,unzip wetsuit

Remove watch and insert watch into mouth.

Rinse in showers as you walk through. 

Peel off one arm from wetsuit. Put watch on again.

Peel off other arm.

Remove wetsuit to waist.

Arrive at transition and find glasses.

Remove goggles and swim hat and put glasses on.

Rinse chaffy bits with water bottle or wipes

Quaff sports drink. Shove muesli bar in mouth. Repeat as dressing. 

Put chamois cream on everything likely to chaff get dry or itchy. 

Sit down: Shove on socks and shoes. Stand up.

Put on top full of food.

Put on race no belt.

Put on helmet.

Waddle to bike. Do up helmet. Walk to mount line. Walk over mount line.

Attempt to get on bike without wobbling as I am prone to do. Warn people I am about to wobble into them. 

Stay calm. Do not fear. Smile at fear. 

Transition 2:

Do not get emotional that your weakest section is over. Remain calm

Unclip well ahead of dismount line.

Warn anyone near me I am rubbish at dismounting or about to stop.

Dismount well clear of the dismount line.

Breathe. Hold bike steady and walk calmly to dismount line.

Throw bike into heap never to look at it again.

Remove shoes. Shove food into face. Drink. Remember where bag is.

Put cream on chaffy bits. 

Spray knees calves and feet with biofreeze.

Stretch calves, quads and wrinkle up feet.

Change top.

Move race no belt to other side.

Put on running shoes and sunvisor.

Pump fist into air, the bike is freaking over baby. 

Get out there and run. You can do this bit. Taste that medal. 

Best moments

Hello. We're back typing up instructed visualisation notes from Ironplanner again. Why you ask? Well because my mind is the strongest muscle I've got, for one but also because it makes for a great diary. And also because when I am in Mallorca by myself till Jon gets there, I don't stand a chance of freaking out in the excitement of race week because I have all my mental prep written down, printed out and on my phone to remind me. 

Tonight we're looking at the best moments of my life Well some of them. the idea is that when things are going bad, these are the great things that will lift me. 

So here goes... 

• Running my first solo 26.2 miles outside of an actual event. 
• Running 20 miles on the final training run dehydrated for both Athens and Berlin within the 3 hour mark. 
• Finishing my first open water swim at Eton and being stunned when I actually had a time under 20 minutes!
• Finishing the final race in the lagoon at Swim for Tri's Lanza swim camp. 
• Swimming part of the Ironman Lanzarote swim course with fish. 
• Running my first sub 60 10k with Jon and getting all emotional on his t shirt. 
• My 5km run in Leigh, Jon's home town, after a 50 mile solo ride. 
• Jon, never giving up on us, after all we have had to go through. 
• Being in the Power Station gym in winter hammering out two hours on the spin bike then a run on the treadmill until it closed. 
• The first time I climbed the Col de Femenia: slow, steady and sure. Even if I fell over on the dismount! 
• My mum phoning from her fundraising party in Australia then forgetting to hang up and feeling like I was in the room with everyone. 
• Knowing I could wave to Jon during swimathon to get more support and then getting it. Knowing that I could count on that and how emotional it made me to be that lucky. 
• Not being scared on the descent from Lluc. 
• Finishing Blackpool Half feeling strong despite my biggest ever bike ride the day before and wondering how I'd even move again hours earlier. 
• Cycling in cleats on the right hand side of the road in Mallorca like a natural!
• Running negative splits with Jon and him telling me to slow down or that I was picking up speed! 
• Being told that I am in vibrant color and other girls are in black and white by the man I love. 
• Swimathon - sprinting those last two laps to make sure it wasn't over 60 minutes. 
• Swimming 1900m at race pace in taper week to make sure my time wasn't a fluke!
• Cycling the Mallorca bike course again - and Jon didn't even know I was out there! 

The steps of a typical IM trip

Thanks to @piertown for sharing

1. Arrive in town. 

2. Find over-priced accommodations you are staying a minimum of four nights at
3. Unpack bicycle, spread gear around room randomly.
4. Attempt to reassemble bicycle, realize you forgot to mark your seat and handlebar position before disassembly. Guess position and tell yourself it won’t make a big difference.
5. Drive bike course at slow speeds while making wrong turns. Annoy locals.
6. Find swim venue. Put wetsuit on, stand around for 15 minutes. Swim 10 minutes, take wetsuit off. Look around to see if you impressed anyone.
7. Walk around expo looking for free stuff.
8. Go to registration tent, stand in line, get bag, check bag for goodies.
9. Go back to hotel, arrange energy products into different piles. Stare at piles.
10. Spend 2 hours preparing for bike ride with race wheels and drink systems. Go for 30 minute ride. Go back to hotel.
11. Decide that this would be a great opportunity to learn how to rebuild your rear hub to fix the play in it. Disassemble hub.
12. Drive to house where your club mate, the bicycle mechanic, is staying. Show him the pieces of your rear wheel. Beg for help.
13. Go to swim start Friday morning. Look for tell-tale wrist-bands on other competitors; look condescendingly at all those swimming who aren’t participating in the race.
14. Go back to hotel, spend 4 hours attaching numbers to your bicycle, helmet, and race outfit. Panic that you don’t have 8 pieces of reflective tape for your run outfit, even though IM has never been known to enforce the rule.
15. Drive down to expo at the last minute, stand in line, pay $10 for a strip of reflective tape.
16. Drive back to hotel, place energy products into various bags.
17. Pack transition bags.
18. Unpack transition bags.
19. Repack transition bags.
20. Drive to Carbo-dinner. Stand in line, proceed through buffet with poor food selection, sit at crowded table, remember you paid an extra $20 each so your family could enjoy this food. Listen to IM personnel tell same jokes as last year. Realize that Dave Scott has apparently discovered the fountain of youth. Stand in line to leave.
21. Prep bike to drop off on Saturday, discover your tire has a slow leak. Drive to expo, stand in line, pay $80 for tubular tire. Get back to hotel, realize you don’t know how to glue on a tubular, drive back to expo and have them do it for you.
22. Drop bike off, spend time covering bike with various plastic bags because everyone else is doing it.
23. Drop off your transition bags, realize you forgot your salt tablets, drive back to hotel to get them.
24. Drive back to hotel again, arrange race gear for tomorrow morning.
25. Pack special needs bags.
26. Unpack special needs bags.
27. Repack special needs bags.
28. Realize there is nothing more you can do to get ready. Sit down and relax.
29. Panic.
30. Eat early dinner
31. Go to bed, lie there in a cold sweat.
32. Wake up at 2:00 am for 1000 calorie bottle of nasty-tasting concoction, “because the pros do it”.
33. Lie awake listening to horrible weather move into town.
34. Wake up at 4:00 am, listen to spouse complain.
35. Get in car, drive to start. Stand in line to enter the transition area.
36. Check transition bags.
37. Stand in line to get body marked.
38. Check bike, stand in line to get tires pumped up.
39. Stand in line for porta-loo
40. Realize you left your water bottles with special nutrition needs in the fridge at the hotel. Drive back madly to get them.
41. Get back to start, wait in line for parking spot.
42. Stand in line for porta-loo
43. Get wetsuit on, stand in line to enter swim area.
44. Realize it’s too late for a warm up. Stand in line to enter water.
45. Stand in water with 2000 other people while sun comes up and national anthem is sung by local high school girl. Realize that few moments of your life have been this beautiful.
46. Gun goes off, 2000 people attempt to swim on top of you, realize that you are in mortal danger or drowning and few moments of your life have been this dangerous.
47. Get kicked in face, goggles come off, panic and tread water trying to get them back on while people hit you. Remember you paid good money to do this.
48. Exit swim, stand in line to get into transition.
49. Stand in line to get out of change tent. Get bike, stand in line to get out of transition.
50. Start bike, realize that there is no way 1000 people can pack onto a course within 20 minutes without massive drafting problems. Hope that poor bike handlers don’t crash in front of you.
51. Ride bike.
52. Panic that you’ve already fallen off your nutrition plan that your coach gave you.
53. Make up for lost calories and fluids in the next 15 minutes. Feel ill.
54. Ride bike.
55. Get saddle-sore.
56. Ride bike
57. Decide to piss while riding to save time.
58. Spend the next 30 minutes soft-pedaling, coasting, and practicing mental imagery trying to relax enough to let it go.
59. Give up, get off at aid station and spend 30 seconds in porta-john, get back on bike.
60. Ride bike, feel queasy and bloated, take 3 salt tablets at once to make sure you’re not low on electrolytes. Throw up.
61. Get off bike, sit in change tent wondering why you are doing this. Listen in disbelief to volunteer telling you you’re almost done. Proceed to marathon course.
62. Realize that you should have practiced the 1000 calorie drink at 2:00 am before race day.
63. Throw up, walk, jog, repeat for 26 miles.
64. Start gagging at the thought of another energy gel.
65. Sample the variety of food at aid stations. Discover Oreos, the food of the Gods.
66. Invent the form of locomotion called the ‘ironman shuffle’. Feel proud that your 12 minute mile is technically not walking.
67. Pass your spouse. Make them swear to never let you do another one of these.
68. See finishing chute. Sprint madly down the road high-fiving people and cheering while announcer screams your name. Realize it was all worth it.
69. Get to finishing chute, wait in line while a man takes his extended family over it with him.
70. Cross line, collapse into arms of patient voluneteers.
71. Spend next two hours in med tent realizing that you should have drunk more fluids when it got hot.
72. Go to massage tent, eat cold pizza and wander around in a daze while wearing an aluminum foil blanket.
73. Stick around finish line until midnight to share in “the ironman spirit”. Beat off 12-year-old to grab free socks thrown into crowd.
74. Look in disbelief at fresh and bouncy professional athletes dancing at the finish line.
75. Cheer last few athletes into the finish before midnight. Ask your spouse if you looked that bad. Be amazed that they spent 17 hours out there moving the whole time.
76. Go back to hotel, collapse in bed.
77. Wake up, go to bathroom, collapse back into bed. Repeat all night until the 6 IV’s the med tent gave you are through your system.
78. Wake up at 4:00 because your legs hurt so much.
79. Eat first breakfast.
80. Sit around until spouse wakes up, eat second breakfast.
81. Shuffle around town Monday morning wearing finishers T-shirt and medal. Smile knowingly at other fellow shufflers. Graciously accept congratulations from locals thankful you came to their town to spend money.
82. Eat third breakfast at all you can eat buffet.
83. Go to Official Finishers merchandise tent. Stand in line. Pick out $200 worth of clothing with prominent logos on it. Stand in line, pay $600 for clothes. Contemplate getting a tattoo to immortalize your achievement.
84. Fall prey to peer-pressure and marketing techniques. Cough up $450 to sign up for the race next year - since it will sell out today, and this is your only chance to sign up!
85. Proceed to IM Hawaii role-down. Hold out hope that, even though you finished 80th in your age-group, this will be the year everyone leaves early and you get the last spot.
86. Eat first lunch.
87. Go back to hotel, stare at the disgusting, sticky, smelly mess that is your bicycle and race clothes. Start packing things up to fly home
88. Eat second lunch.
89. Go to awards dinner, stand in line. Get poor food from buffet, remember you spent $20 a head so your family could enjoy this magical moment with you.
90. Watch hastily-produced race video. Closely examine each frame hoping they caught a glimpse of you on the course. Be disappointed.
91. Watch age-group athletes get their awards. Wonder how many of them actually work for a living, and where you can get some of the performance enhancing drugs they appear to be on.
92. Realize that you have to go all the way up to women’s 70+ age group before you find an age-group your time would have won.
93. Listen to long, excruciatingly boring thank-you speeches from various professional athletes.
94. Stand in line to get out of awards dinner.
95. Go to Airport, stand in line. Deliver $5000 bike to Neanderthal-like baggage handler. Pray. Reluctantly take finishers medal off to pass through metal detector. Proudly tell TSA personnel what you did on your weekend.
96. Get home, contemplate unpacking disgusting bicycle, decide to leave it until tomorrow.
97. Eat chocolate and watch TV. Contemplate unpacking your bicycle and training again, decide to leave it until tomorrow.
98. Repeat above step for 2-10 weeks. Step on scale. Look at your fat, disgusting self in a mirror and remember you signed up for next year’s race. Unpack bike, chip mold off of seat tube. Show up at swim practice again.
99. Get ready to do it all again next year

Mallorca: the maths

So the observant and regular reader amongst you will note there has been a lot of mental prep blogging from Ironplanner. Continuing in this vein is The Maths. This is particularly important for me as I am trying to learn the Spanish for "have I made the cut off?"

So here it is in black and white for me to focus on next week when I am in Mallorca and in my final days. 

The swim. She starts for the females at 08:05 with a cut off 1hr and 10 minutes after my start. Last weekend I completed 2.5km Swimathon (25m pool no wetsuit) in 59 mins. I feel confident of completing the 1.9km (1.2 miles) within the cut off allowing for tackling crowds, drift and sighting. Inshallah. 

Transition: Allow 5-7 minutes. I must leave T1 within 1:20 of my swim start. Real time: approx 9:05am

The bike: In training, it took me 56 minutes to get to the start of the climb. I'm not truncating that time to take traffic navigation etc away because I am going to use the flat start to fuel well. I then reached the top, where the next cut off is (at 13:00h), in 42 minutes. In race real time, I therefore expect to make this cut off at 10:43am. Plenty of time right...? (I've done this maths 100 times!)

I then took another 20mins to make the petrol station at Lluc / Sa Calobra turnoff and another 40 minutes to get to Inca. It then seemed to take me 2.5hrs to tackle the final 30miles in a headwind. That's a total of 5+ hours of cycling - making me the slowest women BUT back to T2 at 14:35pm. The cut off time for entry to T2 is 15:30. 

The run: on a good day I can do in sub two hours. Let's give me twenty minutes for transition and slowness and I should still make the event cut off of 1730, walking. Inshallah. 

So breathe. The idea behind writing this down is 1) to check it and 2) to give myself confidence that I can make it and so just focus on a calm and capable finish. Of course it has made me rather anxious that my swim is not strong enough. That's motivation for an unbroken 1900 at race pace tomorrow then!

A thank you to last year's donors

I've just finished writing and messaging to my donors last year but some of them are on twitter - I know - that's the state of the modern world, I only have @addresses for them! So this is what I'm tweeting to them:

A thank you and an apology :) 

Hi 

I wanted to thank you all for what we’ve achieved over the last year. We? Yes, you, me and Freedom from Torture! About 12 months ago, you kindly sponsored me to do some crazy running. I wanted to let you know about how that money helped. There’s a list on their website of what your donation can “buy” but I really wanted to let you know about an individual’s story. As you're probably aware it’s never as cut and dry as £10 buys a goat – people’s needs are complex- as this story of a Freedom from Torture’s client illustrates.

I also wanted to apologise in advance if you receive further tweets and emails from me as I’ll be sending out blanket emails to everyone in my inbox ahead of my next fundraising venture, a half Ironman triathlon. I don’t expect any of you to support me again – unless your stocks and shares are doing very well! – but I will point out something about Freedom from Torture. In addition to their excellent work, they have some excellent events, from cooking with famous chefs, classical music, comedy and gigs. They’ve got an e newsletter you can sign up to – and if you did that, I can guarantee the emails are more regular and informative than my own! 

Thank you again for all your support last year and please, take a moment from your busy inbox to read about Malaika – a real woman who has been touched by your donation.

With best wishes
Rowena, swim bike running for Freedom from Torture. 

In 1999, when she was three months pregnant, Malaika was arrested along with her eight year old son, as a reaction to the political beliefs of her husband, who opposed the government. During her imprisonment, she was kicked, punched and beaten in front of her son, as she was interrogated about her husband’s activities. After her release, Malaika suffered a miscarriage.

She was briefly deported from Ethiopia to a camp in Eritrea before being arrested once more. Again she was beaten, this time by Eritrean police, stripped naked, repeatedly raped and urinated upon. While she was released on bail she saw her opportunity to escape and fled to the UK, but was unable to take her son with her. Her husband, who was also tortured and beaten by both Ethiopian and Eritrean law enforcement officials, later committed suicide.

When Malaika first began her sessions with a Freedom from Torture case worker / counsellor she was in a terrible condition, both physically and psychologically. A lack of secure housing added to her state of insecurity. However thanks to the unstinting efforts of her counsellor and case worker Malaika is began to rediscover a sense of security and hope. In addition to providing counselling, her case worker has also helped to secure her a ground floor local authority flat that meets her mobility needs. The calcium deficiency bone condition she lives with as a result of malnutrition during her years as a prisoner and refugee is now finally being treated, with further medical investigations to follow. She has also commenced studies in ICT at a local college – a sign, as her case worker puts it, that she is “moving on”.

Most significantly, Malaika is now ready to recommence the search for her son. She was involuntarily separated from him when she fled from an Eritrean refugee camp. Believing he is still in Africa, Malaika and her case worker are working with the Red Cross to try to locate him. Malaika had initiated a search for her son before, but found the process unbearably painful and stopped it when she received news of death of her father , who was also in a refugee camp. For some clients, the therapy offered by our skilled clinicians can mean the difference between life and death. Malaika states unequivocally that had she not been in therapy with one of our caseworkers at the time she received news of her father’s death, the grief and guilt she felt would have spurred her to take her own life. She added that her decision to resume the search for her son and her general ability to “move on” are because of her case worker’s committed care and support. Malaika has also spoken of how touched she is by the generosity of Freedom from Torture supporters.

Since Freedom from Torture was established in 1985, over 50,000 individuals like Malaika have been referred to the organisation for help. Thank you for helping them rebuild their lives.