A Story of Ironman UK

By Lee Runciman

Team Runciman set off from Essex to the South West for Ironman UK on the Friday morning. We arrived at the hotel at about the same time the rain started on the Friday afternoon. And boy did it rain.

We set off from our hotel in Yeovil towards Sherborne for that evening’s pasta party and drove along the A30, which is where half the run is based. I started getting a sinking feeling as the car traveled up and down the rolling hills of the dual carriageway in horizontal driving rain. We arrived at Sherborne to find the car park was closed to all but disabled ‘blue badge’ holders due to water logging! Well, luckily, we have a blue badge for Riley, our son with cerebral palsy, which is one reason why I got involved with all this idiocy in the first place! More about him later.

We made out way to the tent where the pasta party was to be held and by the time we arrived our feet were absolutely drenched and we were freezing cold! Thank heavens for England in August!

Back at the hotel, we hung our clothes up over the radiators only to discover we couldn’t turn on the heating. After shivering through the night, I got up early to go swim a lap of the lake. I arrived at Sherborne castle and you couldn’t see the other end of the lake due to the driving rain – it was like a hurricane all day long. After the swim, I hung up the wetsuit next to my jeans from the day before and I couldn’t tell which was wetter!

Mrs R and I then went into downtown Yeovil and bought lots of waterproof clothing for us and little Riley – I really felt sorry for them knowing they’d need to be out in those conditions for hours cheering me on!

Later that day was the rather pointless race briefing followed by some past and home to the freezing hotel room for an early night, after a couple of pints of course!

The big day started at 3:30am and I went down to breakfast where I met up with other wannabe Ironmen. I found out later that we were sharing a hotel with a girl from New Zealand who came 6th and an Italian guy who came 5th!

A fellow newbie named Scott kindly offered me a lift down to the start and then it was out to the bike to put the drinks on and check the tires etc. On with the wetsuit and before I knew it we were heading down to the lake. It was freezing cold but thankfully the rain had stopped. For now at least.

Out to the start, where we were held for nearly 40 minutes due to having to wait for the late arrivals caused by the closed car park. Eventually, the klaxon went off and with shivering teeth, we set off on the 2.4 mile swim…and I immediately got kicked in the nose! I was amazed at how brutal the swim to the first buoy was but arrived unscathed and got into a rhythm. Before I knew it, I was climbing out of the lake in 1:13 – 7 minutes quicker than I’d expected so I was feeling great.

After a leisurely transition, I climbed onto the bike and clipped in, went 20 yards and then...
.
.
.
BANG! Puncture number 1, front wheel. I was really angry and just kept thinking to myself, ‘there goes that 7 minutes I’ve just gained in the swim’.

Once that was fixed I charged out and up the hill and pressed on, overtaking loads of cyclists while the red mist was down. I finally calmed down after Lyons Gate and settled into an easier pace and actually started enjoying myself.

Then, after 12 miles once more there was a loud BANG! Puncture number 2 rear tyre. I was swearing and cussing and was once more really, really annoyed. I changed the rear wheel, thereby using my last tube and CO2 cartridge, thinking ‘if I get another puncture, it’s curtains’.

I then climbed onto the bike and noticed that the front tyre was completely flat as well – DISASTER! No more tubes, no more CO2 canisters. I genuinely thought my race was over. After all, who’s going to lend me their spare tube when they’ve still got 100 miles to go and they’ve just ridden past half the field fixing punctures?

Nonetheless I wasn’t ready to throw away 8 months of training just like that, so I stayed at the roadside for nearly 15 minutes desperately pleading for someone to stop and give me a tube. There must have been hundreds of riders go past me solemnly shaking their heads – and I can’t say I blame them either. (I later found out that I left the lake in 673rd place and reached the half way point of the first lap in 1,210^th)!!

Just as I was starting to panic, a guy stopped and gave me a tube. I felt like hugging and kissing him I was so grateful. I made a note of his number so that I could look him up later. I did this on Monday when I got home and was amazed to learn that his name was Patrick RILEY. This is about the weirdest co-incidence imaginable in my book – especially as I run a charity named the Life of Riley!

Well thanks to Mr Riley, I quickly changed the tube and pumped up the tyre with my hand pump to a ludicrously low PSI and set off again, determined to make up some time.

The rest of the bike was tough with driving winds, intermittent rain and it seemed as though the entire second half of each of the three laps was uphill. There was one exception of one steep, sweeping hill that I managed to top 50mph going down. The third time down here was rather sobering however, as I passed an ambulance and some paramedics were pulling a guy out of the bushes at the side of the road with a full spinal brace on.

I carried on without any further incident other than the wind, the hills and managed a 6:48, which I was reasonably pleased with considering my initial nightmare! I’d also made up more places that I lost on my disastrous first half lap – coming in about 643rd or so.

Finally I found myself on the descent back into the castle, with a massive grin on my face. I saw a wildly screaming Mandy and Riley just as I got off the bike, although she did moan at me for being late! Into T2 and another nice leisurely transition including a change of socks and some Vaseline rubbed into the toes.

I set out on the run into the crowds and just jogged round the first half, really enjoying it. The first half was around the grounds of Sherborne castle and although it was a bit hilly, because I was just jogging there was nothing too tough. The crowds give you a big lift as well of course.

Then the race left the castle grounds and went through the picturesque village of Sherborne and onto the dreaded A30 section. Once I got there, though I didn’t mind the dual carriageway too much because there were so many runners, supporters and volunteers out on the course and everyone was helping each other out so much. After about 18 miles, I felt really good (for the first time ever at that point in a marathon) and decided to pick up the pace. At the end of the dual carriageway with about three miles to go, I started to really go for it.

Entering the castle grounds was perhaps when it all started really hitting home that I’d done it. With about 600m to go, a marshall said to me, ‘There are 6,000 people up there waiting to cheer you home. Now get up there and smile, Ironman’. I thought, ‘Ironman? He means me’! I flew towards the chute, shouted ‘Hello Gorgeous’ at my wife and ‘Hello Gorgeous Boy’ to little Riley and high-fived the cheering supporters in the chute.

I crossed the line (after a 4:21 marathon) in 12 hours and 39 minutes with a huge grin on my face and then promptly broke down into tears, covering my face with my hands. The poor volunteer couldn’t get the medal over my head! Into the finish area, grabbed some pizza, changed into warm dry clothes and then I walked out and away from the Castle, an Ironman at last.

The only thing left to do was go and get a massive tattoo!!