How I became an Ironman and what I learned on the way

I am convinced that almost anybody can complete a full Ironman. Below, I share the story of how I turned from a mediocre runner to a finisher of the Ironman European Championship 2017 in only six months. The objective is to make this challenge more tangible for those willing to “go long” for the first time. I hope that it will inspire many readers to believe in themselves and take on this beautiful challenge too.

Committing to try

Two of my strongest passions in life are running, which is my way of finding internal balance, and rising to new challenges. As the year 2016 drew to a close, I almost signed up for my first marathon to combine these passions. I had never been a particularly good runner, though, and recurring previous knee injuries made me considering alternatives before signing up. I had heard that the different types of sports involved in triathlons reduce the emphasis on shocks because triathletes usually run less while training than marathon runners do. In addition to that, strengthening leg muscles through cycling diminishes the risk of injury caused by long-distance runs. My knees would thus be better off if I trained for triathlons rather than marathons. That was pretty much all I knew about triathlon.

Beginning of 2017, I was far from being an athlete. I had not swum freestyle since childhood, never cycled more than 40 kilometres and could barely finish a half-marathon, but I wanted to find out how far I could go. While I discovered that the Ironman World Championship taking place in Hawaii requires participants to qualify for it, there were other races with similar distances for which any amateur could register. In particular, the European Championship would take place in early July in the city where I was living. Both the location and the date were perfect.

I was aware that training for an Ironman would require a lot of work. Just the marathon would be twice the longest distance I had ever run, I could not grasp how anybody could cycle for 180 kilometres, and I had no idea how long it would take me to finish a 3.9-kilometre swim. I just knew that I had to learn how to tackle this challenge and that six months later I would need to complete the race in less than 15 hours, the official cut-off time for the race. So I ordered the best books I could find on the topic, I retrieved an old road bike from my dad, and I bought swimming goggles. More enthusiastic and motivated than ever, I cheerfully signed up and embarked on this life-changing journey.

Starting to train

Mid-January, I went to the swimming pool before work for my first training session of the season. Just having recovered from a six-week illness, my physical condition was noticeably below average. As soon as the pool opened, I tried swimming freestyle for the first time in over fifteen years and realised that it must have looked more like floating than swimming. I got exhausted in seconds while I was barely moving forward. I badly needed to get my technique fixed. As from the next morning, I started a new habit: I watched 30 minutes of triathlon-technique videos on YouTube every day during breakfast. I began running three times a week consistently and tried out my dad’s old road bike. During the first three weeks, my motivation was at its top and training made me feel exceptionally well. I quickly increased distances on the bike from 30 to 60 kilometres, I trained twice almost every day and I got faster in the pool every week.

After a month, I decided to spend a Saturday afternoon on my bike and cycled for 100 kilometres at once for the first time. I never thought that I would be able to achieve such distance in only a month, but it seemed that focusing on this task for weeks did miracles. This training session seriously knocked me out but I realised that a 180-kilometre bike course was feasible after all, if I kept training properly.

Crashing to learn

Despite setting new personal records weekly, I noticed that I felt more exhausted every day. Sleeping 10 hours per night and eating as healthy as possible were no longer enough to maintain my energy level. In February, my ability to train either intensively or for a long time decreased dramatically. I knew something was wrong but I could not identify which part of my training was at fault.

Literally crashing after a bike session, I was forced to take a break. Studying books about triathlon during this pause, I discovered the importance of rest and recovery. I learned that every third week should be dedicated to recovery from previous sessions by decreasing duration and intensity for a few days. In addition to that, at least one day every week should be free from any sport so that the body can absorb the training load. These resting periods are precisely what I had skipped and what got me down after my first month. Still convinced that I could reach my goal, I radically revised my training schedule and started over with an improved structure. I religiously followed the new plan and kept reading theory between training sessions, which got me to uncover many new tips to increase performance and training efficiency.

Racing to experiment

In March, I faced my first Olympic-distance triathlon in Abu Dhabi. When I arrived at the venue, I was stupefied to stand right next to Javier Gomez, five times world champion, also registering for the event. Around me, the average level of fitness was breathtaking. I was undoubtedly nowhere near that average. I was poorly prepared physically and did not even have proper gear to race with. I bought a tri-suit the day before the race and hoped that my running shoes would do. An Olympic distance race consists of a 1.5-kilometre swim, a 40-kilometre bike course and a 10-kilometre run. I was confident about the last two parts, but with only eight weeks of training, open-water swimming would be a challenge.

Stress massively kicked in on race day as soon as I woke up. Then, it kept accumulating until I entered the water at the beginning of the race. Wetsuits would have provided comfortable floating support but the water was too warm for them to be allowed. Only a couple of minutes after the starting gun was fired, I was amongst the last swimmers of my age group – 25 to 30 years old. A few minutes later, I glanced behind my shoulder and saw the next wave of triathletes drawing level with me, although they had started 5 minutes later. When I finally got out of the water, the third wave of swimmers, who started 10 minutes later than me, had already caught me up. The outside temperature was much higher than during any of my training sessions, which caused my heart rate to soar before I could even get dry. Thrilled to have finished the challenging swim, I got on my bike and enjoyed every second on the YAS Marina Formula 1 Circuit at full speed. The road quality was flawless. Despite the Middle East climate, I reached several new speed records that day. Off the bike and glaring at the running course, I realised that I was about to complete my first triathlon. Filled with happiness and motivation, I started running far too fast. Incapable of holding that pace for 10k, I struggled more with every kilometre but finally reached the finish line in a total time of 2 hours and 49 minutes.

My performance fell short of my expectations, but I reached the finish line with a smile, which is the only thing that really mattered. In only a couple of months of training, I was able to race for almost three hours. Confident I could do much better, I kept thinking how badly I wanted to try it again.

Determined to improve before the next race, I identified that I absolutely needed to refine my swimming technique and that a consistent eating plan would be beneficial. Another key takeaway was that I should pace myself during the run, in order not to burn out and slow down along the course. It was a useful first experience but I still had a lot to achieve to complete a race over four times as long as this one.

Falling to rise back up

With these lessons in mind, I resumed training and stepped up the intensity during sessions. Some interval trainings were so intense that they brought me to sleep 14 hours in a row afterwards and kept me exhausted for several days. I was dead set on improving my level of fitness and kept pushing my limits to be able to finish the Ironman.

Things started to get more complicated in April, about half-way in my season, when I fell from my bike after the tenth interval of a session. I got back on the bike and completed the training, but the fall left severe bruises on my upper leg and shoulder. I went to the hospital to get an X-ray of my shoulder, to make sure that nothing was broken. Luckily, the bones were fine, but the doctor advised me not to do any sport for a week so that I would not put any unnecessary stress on my shoulder. I usually listen to doctors’ advice, but I was also determined to do everything in my power to succeed. On the next day, I hit the gym and found a cycling machine with backrest. This feature of the device enables cyclists not to use their hands, thereby not to put any bodyweight on arms and shoulders. I gathered enough food and drink to spend my afternoon on that machine and broke a new distance record in just over 5 hours: 130 kilometres. The gap with the 180k objective was narrowing. My shoulder stopped aching in the following days, allowing me to resume training normally. I was hoping that no more injury would slow me down until race day.

Unfortunately, additional problems arrived a couple of weeks later. The most intense run of my life made me ill. It required me to stay in bed for over a week and to skip a half-marathon for which I had signed up. In addition to that, after most training sessions, I felt my knees ache, which amplified my worries. I had only ten weeks left before race day and I was facing both injuries and illness. Almost clueless about how to tackle this situation, stress increased and my self-confidence started wavering alarmingly.

Persisting to improve

In May, lots of foam-rolling and a couple of sports massages healed my hurting knees. I found out that knee issues are a common consequence of using typical running shoes. They incentivise runners to land on their heels, thereby multiplying unnecessary shocks absorbed by the knees. I therefore occasionally ran barefoot to improve my technique and saw the pain fade away by itself. Seven weeks before D-day, I completed a half-Ironman in the Austrian mountains as a preparation for the race. I focused on racing precisely as I would for the full distance and I learned some more crucial lessons. First, the race highlighted my inability to swim straight: I would either tilt left or right but never follow a straight line. Second, I realised that I was eating too few during the race, which left me almost powerless before even putting my running shoes on. Third, it seemed that I still could not pace myself well enough, because as previously, the second half of my run was much slower than the first.

Completing the half distance reassured me, though. I realised that I could still improve on several levels, many of which related to technical preparation rather than fitness. Hopefully, the combined effect of these improvements would bring me to double my performance and finish the full distance. It would be a stretch. On the technical preparation side, I could further improve my swimming technique to waste less energy in the water, I could eat more consistently on the bike to sustain my pace for 180 kilometres and I could pay more attention to my heart rate zones to keep a steady speed during the run. However, even on the fitness level, I was still not ready for the full distance. In particular, I needed to perform some additional very long rides in low heart rate zones to get my body used to do sport for so many hours in a row.

Focusing to excel

In June, I took all holiday days I had left to focus on training and to complete a so-called “crash week”, consisting in training every day until reaching the edge of what the body can take, i.e. until it almost breaks down. While this is a risky practice, it can also bring considerable rewards in fitness level and this was exactly what I was looking for.

I trained for many hours every day, integrated several sport types during each session and pushed myself to my limits under challenging conditions. I combined 100-kilometre rides with 15-kilometre runs after one another, under temperatures over 34 degrees Celsius. I also performed the full 3.8-kilometre swim for the first time, in the lake where the race would take place. After a week at this intensity, came the morning for which I had planned to get acquainted with the full bike course. On that day, I was not able to even leave my bed. The week had been so intense that every muscle in my body was screaming for rest. It was the sign that I really needed to recover, so I took several days off and started tapering for the Ironman. Tapering consists of gradually decreasing training distances and intensities over a couple of weeks to remove fatigue while increasing readiness for the race. I enjoyed every second of the tapering period but I knew that I would soon have to face my most significant challenge of the year.

Racing to finish

On July 9th, the big day had come, and I knew that I was under-trained. I woke up hours before dawn to be at the lake before the 6:30 a.m. start. World-class athletes were present and thousands of people gathered at the lake to witness the start. The temperature of the lake was ideal: 24.1 degrees Celsius, cold enough so that neoprene wetsuits were allowed but warm enough to be enjoyable. The rolling start implied that the fastest athletes would start first, leaving me to begin the race at 7:04 a.m. I saw the sunrise when I entered the water and I knew that the 10:00 p.m. cut-off would happen long after sunset. I had 15 hours to complete the race and I did not plan to do it any faster than that. The rising sun on the horizon was blinding for a part of the swim course so that one could not even see where one was heading, which created some confusion during the swim. To avoid tilting right or left, I swam in the middle of a same-paced group, thereby making sure that I could only swim straight. The swim happened to be much easier than expected. I came out of the water after 1 hour and 25 minutes, which was 15 minutes faster than during my last similar training session.

I took extensive time during the first transition to put sun cream all over my body, to be able to cope with a full day of direct exposure to the sun. It had been a wise move. During the ride, as I kept seeing other triathletes severely sunburned, many of which dropped out before the end of the race. The bike course consisted of 20 kilometres from the lake to Frankfurt and then two 80-kilometre laps around the city.

The first 100 kilometres on the bike were pure pleasure. With a heart rate lower than expected for a speed higher than planned, I felt like I was flying and nothing could stop me. The temperature was still bearable and the general mood among racers was great. Things started to get complicated when I reached kilometre 110, as I noticed that my energy level had been drained down to almost nothing by the past 5 hours of activity. By kilometre 120, I realised that never in my life had I had so little strength left.

I took a 7-minute break at the following food station to pour two litres of water on my head, eat, drink and rest a bit in the shadow. I must have looked terrible. It was confirmed when one of the race marshals asked me whether he should call an ambulance to pick me up. I realised it was the moment to climb back on my bike and resume racing. I kept eating, drinking, and cycling for three more dreadful hours until reaching the second transition.

Far beyond my lowest point ever, I started the first marathon of my life with only 5 hours and 30 minutes remaining before the cut-off. I knew that I needed to run each kilometre below 7 minutes and 45 seconds for the next 42.2 kilometres to arrive before 10 p.m. I started running at exactly that pace, with only one thing in mind: “run one hundred more meters”. Then one hundred more. The running course consisted of four 10.5-kilometre laps along the Main river. At the end of each lap, runners were given a coloured bracelet, so that everybody could identify in which lap each of us was.

Every kilometre along the course, I thought that I would never reach the next one. With every bracelet, I noticed there were fewer runners left and the mood amongst the remaining triathletes quickly reduced to deafening silence and intense suffering. One-third of those who started the race on that day never saw the finish line. I had trained for months precisely for these last hours and I was not ready to give up.

After sunset, fewer and fewer people were present to cheer up the remaining racers. I passed by another runner called Ed, on the edge of abandoning and wearing a bracelet similar to mine. I convinced him to stand back up and run at my pace so that we could just make it before the cut-off. We ran side by side, each of us providing strength to the other, almost without exchanging a word. We only kept running thanks to coke, energy drinks and gels available every couple of kilometres, taking advantage of every cold-water shower and ice-cube pack on the way to get our body temperature down.

During the last two hours, my stomach ached so much from the 4000+ calories eaten and 12+ litres drunk on that day that I could not even have one more bite of any food. Around 9:00 p.m., forcing my body to assimilate one more energy gel was the most difficult thing I did on that day. The finish line was within reach but I could not slow down, not even for a couple of kilometres. When we reached kilometre 40, Ed and I were almost alone on the course, surrounded by street lights and empty energy-drink paper glasses. I still had the same thought in mind that I had told myself over 400 times by now: “one hundred more meters”.

During the last kilometre, one could hear music and hundreds of people cheering up late finishers at the line. I focused during these last few minutes to give everything I had to finish strongly. Just ten minutes before the official cut-off, I passed the finish line knowing that my life would never be the same. I finished the day and this journey with the firmest belief in Ironman's motto: "Anything is possible".

Willing to take on the Ironman challenge? Check out my other article on how to train for it in only six months!