t the changing tent and started running, I spotted my family stationed at the same place as in T1. 😊
I waved energetically and strode confidently onto the course!
Still looking good. 🎵
Right after starting to run, I immediately felt I could run normally. At first, I felt a little pain in my left knee, but that quickly subsided, and I felt good. 🎵
From here, I ran along the main street lined with many spectators, treating it as a warm-up and soaking in the atmosphere.
Next up is the lakeside road — this is where the real race begins. With my body loosened up, I planned to increase the pace. Since I decided to gauge my pace by feel at the start, I watched my heart rate and set the pace accordingly.
At just under 5 minutes 10 seconds per kilometer, my heart rate settled into the aerobic zone, which felt just right, so I decided to keep that pace.
I thought the start of this run was very important for the race. Recently, I had been focusing on long runs over 30 km in the aerobic zone, and I sensed that the final difficulty after 30 km might be caused by subtle damage accumulating from rough foot strikes.
My body usage has improved lately, so I’m using less large muscle groups during running.
I once wrote a blog post titled “Body-friendly movements,” and the theme for this race’s early run was to protect my legs from damage with that mindset.
If I could do that, then I thought I could rely on propulsion and watch my heart rate to manage the technique adequately.
With this awareness, I progressed smoothly. At this point, I had already forgotten about the swim and bike and just felt like I was running a marathon, so I think my pacing up to here was good.
As expected in an Ironman, the crowd support was far beyond a 70.3 race, and I enjoyed the grand stage as I kept moving forward.
However, I did notice that more people than I expected were walking around. Some were chatting and walking. Honestly, I was a bit surprised by this, but to me, Ironman is an event of Swim, Bike, and Run — not Swim, Bike, and Walk!
I kept looking ahead and running steadily.
The course is three laps on the same route, so some people were already on their 2nd or 3rd lap. Those who were so far ahead were running excellently, so I studied their form to see what differences there were compared to mine.
(I always annoy myself during races by obsessively studying form — a bit geeky, but it’s just how I am. For women, it might be form study of a different kind though 😅)
While doing this silly stuff, I smoothly completed the first lap and returned to the start point. I looked for my family but didn’t see them this time.
“Well, maybe they went to get some food?” I thought, still relaxed, and headed into the second lap.
My fueling plan was one gel per turnaround point, so here I took my second gel.
The start of the second lap was still smooth, but around 17-18 km, things began to change. The carefully guarded legs began to hurt with each foot strike. Running gradually became more difficult.
After all, it’s an Ironman, so I expected this, but I had hoped the struggle wouldn’t come until after the halfway point — ideally not until the last lap.
I began to feel a deep, bottomless anxiety: “Can I really hold on to the end in this condition?”
What helped at this point was this blog’s existence.
Most of the people I interact with as “blog friends” are triathletes senior to me (I’m still an amateur, having only started triathlon about a year ago and my first race three months ago 😅). They’re at a level I can’t compete with.
I watch their strict attitudes toward themselves closely.
And when I think about myself, writing foolish stuff without real ability but hoping to catch up someday, I feel a growing desire not to be defeated by such minor worries and to not admit “I lost to myself” so easily.
I also have a strong will not to lose to them. But if I can’t beat this level of hardship, I feel I don’t deserve to think that way.
This resolve helped me, and no matter how tough it got, I determined to overcome it.
With that spirit, I somehow pushed past the fear and kept going. But as the pain grew, my form began to falter and my heart rate rose, so I decided to slightly ease my pace.
I had hoped to break 4 hours in the run, but I judged it was more important to finish the race properly and gave up on sub-4.
At the same time, I made another decision.
I believe walk breaks are an effective technique in long-distance races longer than marathons, so I had already tried using walk breaks at aid stations early in my previous full marathon.
That time, it didn’t suit me well, so I hadn’t practiced it much. But after reading about Haru-san’s successful use of walk breaks in the latter half of a marathon, I started practicing and preparing to use them as a last resort when my legs got tough in this Ironman.
Since my legs were already quite sore, I decided to start walk breaks earlier than planned to protect my legs and improve my final time. From the next aid station, I introduced 10-second walk breaks.
Until then, I had been drinking water while running, but at this point, even pros were walking through aid stations to hydrate, and the course was narrow, so walking to drink was safer.
This decision paid off, easing the leg pain somewhat, and I managed to reach the halfway turnaround.
There was a gate where runners receive wristbands indicating lap count — three gates for three laps. I passed through the middle gate and got the wristband.
I thought about how I might feel when I return next time, and turned back.
With walk breaks, my breathing revived somewhat, but by then I had already been going for over 10 hours.
No matter how carefully I paced, I’d never exercised for so long.
Though my body was still moving, my mind grew more and more fatigued. 😞
As I endured the pain and hardship, my energy to respond to the crowd’s cheers waned, and my feelings turned inward.
The only way to distract myself was inside my mind.
Usually, when my heart rate is higher and I’m panting, the painful moments recall the sensation of running drills at the end of junior high soccer practice.
I imagine my teammates running around me, helping my strong competitive spirit with the thought, “I can’t lose to these guys.” 😊
But this time, with my lower heart rate, they didn’t come to my aid. 😞
At those times, the warm comments from my blog friends before the race helped me.
One encouraged me as a representative of Ameblo triathletes, and another told me to think of them running alongside when it got tough.
As those who run long distances know, when the pain truly sets in, even the cheers along the course and the family waiting at the finish don’t really reach you.
It’s basically a lonely battle with yourself.
When I was entering that state, recalling those support messages and thinking, “I’m not alone,” was a huge comfort.
Thank you so much. 😊
From here on, I ran with the pride of being a member of Ameblo triathletes. 😊
With that spirit revived, while heading back near the start point, I ran towards oncoming runners making their turnaround.
Among them, I noticed a very tall runner walking painfully.
This was Ian Jones, a former All Blacks rugby star.
He was one of the people I wanted to catch this time.
We had both done the last 70.3, and though I beat him on the bike and run, he was so fast on the swim that overall he finished about 15 minutes ahead.
(Incidentally, I misunderstood that transition time wasn’t counted and was slow, so I think I could make up about 10 minutes there.)
As a rugby player, he is very tall and not so good at running. Even in the last 70.3, he took quite long, so I expected he’d struggle and fall back this time, hoping to catch him if I managed swim and bike well.
At this point, the gap was about 5 km.
I tried to consider if I could catch him by the end, but my mind couldn’t focus anymore. 😂😭
He was walking painfully, but although my pace had slowed, I was still running somewhat.
This gave my fading fighting spirit new life. 🔥
(Though ultimately, I didn’t catch him. In hindsight, he started triathlon in 2008, nearly 10 years ago, so he was no match for someone with only three months’ experience like me. 😞)
With a new goal, I lifted my spirits and returned to the start turnaround again.
I looked for my family again, but still couldn’t find them. 😞
I worried something might have happened to my father-in-law who had a heart attack about three months ago, but I had no way to check.
With a heavy heart, I turned again for the lonely fight ahead.
(Later I heard they were giving him frequent rest at home during the long event.)
The next turnaround felt very long.
As expected, the final lap of the Ironman run was now purely a battle of willpower.
Also, at this stage, very few runners are still running, so every time I saw people walking, I wondered, “Why am I the only one stubbornly still running?”
Still, I had invested everything in my life to take on this beast called Ironman.
If I started walking now, I’d feel like I was denying my own life so far, and that scared me deeply.
So I struggled desperately, but the slightest slackening made me feel I would easily lose to myself.
But there were others around me doing the same, gritting their teeth and moving forward.
Encouraged by their efforts, I looked only ahead and somehow kept running.
(At this point, I was running on willpower alone. 😞)
Enduring pain and suffering beyond imagination, I finally reached the last turnaround and passed through the gate to receive the third wristband.
By then, all runners had reached their limits.
The volunteers, sensing this, cheered loudly to push us forward.
I managed to thank them and, with renewed resolve, took steps toward the final leg!
Well, this has gotten way too long, so I’ll stop here.
This endlessly long report will finally enter the finale next time.
Actually, a pretty dramatic development I hadn’t expected awaits!
I’m sure very few of you are still reading this far, but I thank you and would be happy if you could accompany me just one more time in my report. 😊
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