Old Man of Coniston - the hardest half ironman on the planet?

[alistairsmith]

If it doesn't smash you physically it might just destroy you mentally.  This was my third year at OMC.  2 years ago I came within a navigational error of victory while last year overconfidence and under training so me well and truly spanked by ERCer Chris Godfree.  This year I wasn't entirely sure why I was even doing it again.  Well, the reason is that I'm helping raise money for a very sick young boy called Alex who suffers from the debilitating cancer Neuroblastoma.  The plan is to do 5 of the toughest half ironmans in Europe over the summer.  Please visit my site at www.bmycharity.com/triforalex and give generously.

So to the race.  The weather was due to piss down and the morning started right on cue.  There wasn't much chat between the OMC warriors as we racked under the gloom.  But it eased and conditions were actually ok.  Too cold apparently for our southern softy brethren though.  Despite the water of Lake Coniston being warmer than any race I have ever swam in Scotland the swim was cut to 1500m due to the temperature.  We were eventually off and I started with a nice draft but they soon pulled away and I was on my own eventually exiting in 4th.  Then the first bit of fun.  This year we had a 600m run uphill to T1.  So T1 Part 1 involved ripping off the wetsuit and throwing it at Ann Johnstone before donning trainers for the run to T1 Part 2.  The conditions were so variable it was a slow transition to get kitted up and then onto the bike.

What makes OMC so hard?  Well the bike takes in three of the toughest climbs in the whole of the UK.  But the tri gods were smiling on us and we had a tailwind for the main climbs.  I even made the 35% kicker at the bottom of Hardknot without falling off.  A few passed me on the climbs but the usual healthy destain for my own life saw me crawl some back on the descents.  While Wyrnose and Hardknott jump out in front of you yelling "Do you want some?  Do you WANT some?" before slapping you over the head with their gradients, Birken Fell is an altogether more subtle adversary.  She teases you in gently with a little roller.  It isn't until you are half way up you hear her whisper gently into your ear "Can you feel it?  Can you feeel it?".  But much like an Andy Murray attempt at a Grand Slam the hills are over just as you are really getting into it.

It was on Birken Fell that Chris caught me last year but he was no where to be seen.  A few more places lost as expected and finally Chris appeared with 5k to go.  But he wasn't his usual rocket fueled self and after a wee battle we entered transition with me a few seconds ahead.  I was out T2 quicker and felt strong along the flat on the run and was sure I was putting in some distance.

But then the mountain appeared and couple of its more jagged rocks seemed to lodge themselves into my calves.  It was all I could do to walk, never mind run.  Soon enough Chris had caught me and passed through, head up the mountain at a fair clip. The only race goal I had was slipping rapidly away.  I don't have many Churchillian moments in my races but his greatest speech was surely his simplest "Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, give up. Never give up. Never give up. Never give up."  Upahead Chris was struggling.  We were both walking but I was gaining.  A few mutual grunts of encouragment and I was past.  By the time we reached the ridge my calves had either losened off or got so completely smashed that even the nerve endings had packed in.  Either way my hobble shuffle became a hobble jog again.  I put more distance in on Chris and kept another couple of chasers at bay.  Only a 25 mile an hour gale side wind to contend with on the ascent to OMC and then it was down hill again.  A couple passed me on the descent (I have neither the time nor the inclination to learn proper fell descending on slippy granite slate rock).  Then a push to the finish.  6 hours and 1 minute from the start I cross the line.  Chris came in 10 minutes later.  One all Mr Godfree but OMC was the real winner.  Mitch Fraser wasn't too far behind and Berit Inkster decided it just wouldn't be right for someone from ERC to finally win a medal at OMC and took on my fine guidance and "did a navigational" to drop a place to come in 4th female.  A phenomenal effort nontheless.  Then Tom Keily and finally Don Thomson some time later with a dodgy ankle.

There is not another race like it on this planet.  Well done to all who took part and to the Standard warriors the day before.  First female for Hazel Smith closely followed by Sasha Bagley, Ann Johnstone and Oonagh O'Brien.  

Numer two of five done.  Number one was Majorca 70.3.  All you need to know about that race is Martin Gore had a ripped tyre descending from Luc. Like any GOOD club mate I stopped to check he was ok before carrying on.  Ben Mitchell did not stop.  Eventually Ben beat me by 40 seconds.  Martin and I estimate I took 45 seconds doing my honourable duty.  Moral victory is mine . . .

Please visit my site at www.bmycharity.com/triforalex and help support a worthy cause.

[Chris G]

Shall we make it best of 3

[benm]

He who chats longest loses!