I immediately searched for triathlons to compete in. The only ones I could find were in the UK. I embarked on a three week trip where I did a triathlon each week. Starting off with UK 70.3, then on to Dorney Olympic, and finally Trentham Big Half (70.3). Needless to say, I arrived back in South Africa a broken man, in more ways than one. Physically I was out of action for over a month. Mentally, I realised that I did not respect the Tri, and that I needed to. Triathlon (especially long-distance), I realised, is not one of those things that should be taken lightly. I thought that if I self-trained, tried hard, and had cool tri kit, I would be ‘OK’. I was arrogant –I admit it. I paid for it. I’d never done any swimming, cycling, or running –yet I thought I’d be OK. Stupid.

I still wanted to be on the IMSA 2007 start line, although I started to realise just how hard it was going to be to just get there, never-mind complete the race. I searched for someone to give me coaching advice and guidance; Eventually I settled on working with Raynard and Natalie Tissink. I had a program and I had a goal. Sweet. I started my IM training at the end of September 2006, at the same time I moved to London to start my MA (note to self: do not attempt MA’s and IM’s at the same time).

Training was a long road, and I owe much to Mike, Mark, Craig, Nige, and RR. They dragged me all over Surrey, and never complained when I held them up (which was often, no wait, all the time!). RR (among other things) was instrumental in convincing me not to do a 150k bike four weeks out from race day. Nice one RR.

While I could not always keep up with the training schedule set by my coach, I stayed injury free and healthy (besides one or three BAD blow-ups on the bike –ask Iron-Mike and Nige). My taper went decently, and I headed to PE nervous as hell, but confident that I had what it took to complete the race in a decent-ish time.

I arrived in PE on the Friday. Registration was well organised and there was a great atmosphere going on. I couldn’t believe that I was here to do the race. I was a happy man to finally be there. Saturday I checked my bike and various bags in, no dramas, all was fine. I was so paranoid about a series of punctures causing me not to finish that I had 3 tubes and 4 CO2 canisters strapped to the back of my bike, plus extra in my special needs bag. Saturday night I ate the hugest two bowls of pasta ever, and slept like a baby.

Race Day
I woke up at 4 AM and tried to get down my (much rehearsed) breakfast of toast, oats, Berrocca, and carb-drink. I struggled, and could only get halfway through. It was easier to drink, and I continued to sip on Cytomax until the start. Once down at the start/finish area a quick look out to sea confirmed that the swim was going to be difficult. Having never swum a stroke in my life before September 2006, swimming is my weakest discipline. No matter – I wasn’t about to be crushed psychologically before I even started the day! The swim would be long, but I would get through it.

The atmosphere on the start line was tense, but for me it remains the easiest place in the world to make new friends. People are nervous, but mostly happy to chat, you know, in that calming ‘it’ll be OK’ way. Hell, I even had a Parisian start up a conversation with me.

The start gun went off and it was as I expected – a slowish jog/trundle into the water.

Swim
My five minute warm-up swim did not prepare me for the larger swells further out on the swim course. While conditions were not good, the swim was less congested than I thought it might be (something to do with my trot into the ocean after the start gun). I got into a pretty good rhythm and thought that although the swells were big, progress was good. And it was –until the swim back started! There was a strong current determined to wash us back to the turnaround. After making the final right-hand turn towards the beach to complete the first lap, I misjudged the strength of the rip and ended up underneath the pier, fearing I might be crushed by the waves crashing against the pillars!

It was pointless trying to swim directly towards the beach –the rip was just too strong. I had to swim directly back out to sea, then make two right turns to try to make my long-overdue landing on the beach to complete the first lap. Once I did my watch told me that I was seven minutes slower than I wanted to be.

The second lap was harder than the first, whether conditions got worse or I got tired (or both), I’m not sure. At least this time I knew how to aim for a first-attempt landing on the beach! Although I swam 15 minutes slower than expected (1:39 – and I can swim sub-1:20 in a pool!), I was really happy to be done with the swim, and was looking forward to the bike ride.

Bike
The IMSA bike course is a three-lap, 60km affair. Each lap starts with a longish (20km) uphill section. The rest of the course is rolling, and if there is no wind, has the potential to be fast. Today, of course, there was wind!

I started out really easy, eating and drinking, getting ready for (hopefully) a six-hour or so ride. I was amazed at the pace and intensity that many people threw at the bike in the first few minutes. I wasn’t going to do that. In December I had done the bike course and knew that there was not much point in trying to make up time on that first 20km stretch uphill. I changed to the easiest gear and spun up. As cycling is my strongest discipline, I was determined not to make the mistake that many strong cyclists would, I wanted to have something left for the run.

I tried to take a gel every hour or so and drank continuously. I also tried to get a few Powerbars down, which I struggled with, even though I had trained with them. Eventually the gels were getting a bit much too, and I sought out bananas at the aid stations. I ate far less than I planned to –I hoped everything would be OK.

The first lap of the bike was just about on schedule, just over two hours. The wind was quite strong for much of the course so I figured I would be slightly slower than expected. I felt good and had not extended myself too much. It was great riding past the start-finish area –so many spectators, and the all-important support from my loved ones.

The second lap I attacked with a little more gusto than the first (except that first 20km stretch uphill, which I again pedaled up slowly) and I came round the beach front having completed the lap in a similar time to the first. I stopped to collect my special needs bag, which had new water bottles, a meal-replacement, and sandwiches inside. While I changed bottles, drank the meal-replacement, and forgot about the sandwiches, I chatted with my Mom and girlfriend Nicole, while my father videotaped me. I felt great, but DID NOT want to say so.

A funny thing happened just before I got to the special needs station at the end of lap 2. Gehardus Schellens (IMSA champ from 2006) came past me (on his last lap), took his hands off the handle-bars and leant back to stretch his back; his bike veered wildly to the side of the road and he narrowly averted a nasty crash into the bushes! I couldn’t help but giggle.

The third lap of the bike I started thinking about the run. I was happy for it to be slower than the first two. I stretched a little, stopped to use the bathroom, and wondered how the hell I was going to run a marathon once I got off. I did the vast majority of my cycling on a road bike, and only around 800 or 900 kms on my tri-bike, so my back and neck were just killing me. Next time round I’ll be doing every metre of training on my tri-bike. Coming into transition after the bike was a welcome thing. I had biked 6:16 in conditions that were far from ideal, I was quite pleased.

Run
Starting out on the run I felt surprisingly good. My back and neck were far happier running than cycling anyway. I started taking on (too many) gels and liquid immediately. My initial pace was quicker than I wanted it to be, but for some reason I struggled to get it in the range I wanted. That didn’t last long! Eventually I reached a pace that was more or less where I wanted it to be.

I was running by myself and was feeling decided lonely. A group who was running about 20 seconds per km faster than I wanted to, came past. I thought to myself: They’re going a little fast, but if you can just stay with them, you could be on for a reasonable marathon time. I knew it was a risk, but I figured if I wasn’t going to take risks on Ironman race-day, then when would I? I started running with them.

We would walk the aid stations taking in basically whatever was there (later this would come back to bite me big-time). It was hurting like hell (obviously) but I was staying with the group. I started realising that 12:20 or 12:30 might be a slim possibility.

Then the 23km point arrived. My legs starting fading, and worse, my stomach was just killing me. Trying to keep pace with the group was causing me to gag and want to throw-up. I was determined not to though, as I realised that the whole days nutrition would be lost in an instant –and I might even struggle to finish without it. I ran slower and slower, and eventually was walking in stretches to try to keep it all down.

I made a massive error trashing my stomach with gels/Coke/Powerade/Red-Bull/whatever. I was struggling badly. Everytime someone came past me they would encourage me and tell me to run with them. The camaraderie was incredible. Complete strangers would say to me: Come on Peter, come on, run with us, just for a while. The last 14km were extremely tough, a mixture of jogging and walking saw me lose a lot of time. I realised that even a 13 hour finishing time was a slim possibility unless something drastic happened. Thankfully, something did.

8km from the finish I was so fed up with my stomach and with walking, that I didn’t care if I threw up, or if anything else bad happened to me if I did. At 7km I promptly threw up what seemed like a piece of stomach, and some liver. I thought I would keel over permanently. But, amazingly, I felt almost super-human. I couldn’t believe how great I felt! I spat out what remained in my mouth and ran the fasted I’d ran all day to the finish line. I couldn’t believe it.

I crossed the finish line in 13 hours and 17 minutes, so, so happy.

8 months ago I was a novice/wannabe who thought he could pick up swimming, cycling, and running in a month. Now I am an Ironman who knows that he still has a long way to go – but I have taken the first few steps. What a journey lies ahead – I cant wait.

Thanks to:

• My loved ones (you know who you are) – I am nothing without you
• My coach Natalie Tissink, and my swim coach Mateusz Kacprzak
• Mike, Mark, Nige, RR, Craig, Keeto – for training, encouragement, and advice
• SAUKTri – A little piece of SA in the UK

For those who don’t want to read this whole article, here are the lessons:

• You goal in an Ironman (esp. your 1st) must be simply to finish
• Train as much as you can on the bike that you will race on
• Be disciplined with what you put in your stomach, Coke and Red-Bull is VERY tempting … if you have not used it in training, then don’t use it in the race
• Take calculated risks on race-day!! While not all will agree with me on this one, I say do it. But don’t be stupid
• Similar to above, try to race on exactly the same nutrition that you train on