You don’t realise you’re doing Ironman Wales until AC/DC’s Thunderstruck starts playing. Until that moment, the whole morning passes in a blur of self-doubt, nervous energy and stomach butterflies. Even waking up at 3.45am to force feed myself jam-smeared bagels didn’t make my brain register what was about to happen.
Ahead of me lay a 2.4-mile sea swim, 112-mile bike ride followed by a full marathon. I had waited three years for this day, as had the other 1,994 athletes amassing on Tenby’s North Beach. Ironman Wales has become a rite of passage in Pembrokeshire ( you can see lots of inspiring pictures from this year's Ironman Wales here ). Since the first edition in 2011, I have watched so many family members and friends complete the race that my participation had become inevitable- a matter of when, not if.
Yet walking down the zigzag I couldn’t help but feel I was on the wrong side of barriers. The sea looked menacing as an east wind had whipped up a swell that sent boats pitching and rolling in the half light. Between the pink bags my family and friends sipped flasks of coffee and offered encouragement in the febrile atmosphere. I wanted to climb over, slip a coat on and join them. However, after padding onto the beach things changed. A deep orange spread across the horizon silhouetting Tenby’s lifeboat stations and slipways, a view capable of lifting the spirits of even the most nervous athletes. I felt like a gladiator waiting to enter the colosseum, nervously shifting cool sand between my toes, anticipation choking me.
