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Embark on a fun filled ride with Peter Ely, your host and fellow endurance enthusiast, as he dives into the world of triathlons, nutrition, and everything multisport.
Why Tune In:
Whether you're a seasoned triathlete or a newbie looking to dip your toes into the world of multisport, "Inspired to TRI" is your go-to source for inspiration, education, and entertainment. Uncover the stories behind the athletes, the science behind the sport, and the motivation to push your limits.
In each episode, Peter will update you on his progress on the road to conquering his second half Ironman triathlon before his 50th birthday, but this podcast is more than just a personal journey—it's a community of like-minded individuals, a platform where triathletes, nutritionists, coaches, and other experts share their insights, experiences, and tips.
What to Expect:
* Candid Conversations: Interviews with seasoned triathletes who've tackled the challenges of endurance sports.
* Nutrition Wisdom: Insights from nutritionists to fuel your body for peak performance.
* Coaching Corner: Learn from some of the best coaches in the business to fine-tune your mental and physical training regimen.
Why Join the Tribe:
Whether you are looking for inspiration, education or entertainment, you will find it at “Inspired to TRI”
Why Tri?
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[00:00:00] Hello and welcome to Inspired to Try, the podcast where we unravel the incredible stories of endurance athletes and explore the tools and techniques that elevate their performance. I'm your host, Peter Ely. And I'm turning 50 next year. And so that I don't focus on that fact, I'm going to attempt another half Ironman in May, 2024.
So over the course of this series of podcasts, I'll be updating you on my training. I'll be speaking to some amazing triathletes who share their incredible stories. We'll hear about success, comebacks, and how the power of the mind can make the difference between finishing. or [00:01:00] DNF. But before I talk about my upcoming journey, I want to recount my last Ironman journey,
the bold commitment. So picture this, it's 2014 and yours truly is living the desk job dream. Suddenly my back decides to do a tap dance of agony. And I'm stuck with the mobility of a cardboard cutout. Cue the realization that, surprise, surprise, I'm not just a couple of pounds overweight. I've been unknowingly cultivating the dad bod before it was ever cool.
I decided to weigh myself and realized that I was two stone heavier than I thought I was. And I actually thought I was three stone overweight. Something needed to be done. And in a fit [00:02:00] of desperation, or perhaps delusion, I take to Facebook and announce to the world, I will do a Tough Mudder or an Ironman, whichever you choose.
Spoiler alert, the universe, my friends, and even a distant relative, all vote for the Ironman. I thought to myself, better find out what that is then. I looked it up and realised that I'd made a huge mistake. And so began a two year journey. That culminated in one of the proudest moments of my life.
Small beginnings started my fitness odyssey with the grace of a newborn giraffe roller skates. And I still skate to this day. I was watching what I was eating and cycling to work every [00:03:00] break I had, I would climb flights of stairs. As I improved, I joined the local gym and started to use the weights machines.
I ran a little. But my lower back was protesting louder than a teenager denied Wi Fi. So I stuck to the cycle machine. I used to be a good swimmer as a child, so I didn't really focus on it in 2014. My goal was to lose some weight and build some endurance. In 2015, I started to set myself some challenges.
With newfound determination and a bike older than some cheese in a French cellar, I delved into the world of cycling. Evans cycles held regular ride it events, and this became my monthly pilgrimage. I was driving all over the country to try these different cycle rides. I'd been cycling most of my life.
So 90 mile route thinking it would be easy. [00:04:00] January was Guilford. It was snowing, cold, icy, and generally a horrible day for a bike ride. But I was determined, and so I borrowed my Nan's car, packed up my bike, and drove to the start line. At the 50 mile mark, I was tired, cold, stuck on the route, because I didn't know where I was, or how to get back to my car.
And there was a hill climb. It had a 30 percent gradient, and I wanted to cry. I couldn't stop because I didn't know where to go. And so, in a very low gear, I struggled up that hill. February was Newbery. Just as cold, but not as wet. But another huge hill. I knew that at that point I hated hill climbing.
Little did I know how important climbing these two hills would be in order for me to [00:05:00] complete my Ironman journey.
The running revelation. Meanwhile, I decided to sprinkle some running into my routine. I was running 3k consistently. But I wanted and needed to do more in February, 2015. I went to the cycle show looking for a new bike. And while I was there, I saw a stand for a place called the running school. I had a chat and we talked about running and I booked a free running assessment at the assessment.
They showed me how I was running. And explained why I was getting a pain in my lower back. They critiqued my running style, like I was auditioning for America's next top model, but it gave me a couple of tips to improve my running. And improve my speed. I thought, yeah, all right. I went home and ran my 3k and took three minutes off my time.[00:06:00]
And more importantly, my back didn't hurt. I booked in for a six week course the very next day. It taught me so much about how you can run more efficiently and effectively. And although I only run on a treadmill, I started to really enjoy my runs. By April, I was regularly running 5k and was improving my time every week.
But I knew I had to run further. I set myself a target to increase my distance. A new cycle. I'd owned my bike for about seven years, and although it was like new, I decided that it was time for me to get a fancy set of wheels. At the cycle show, the whole place had been buzzing about the Cannondale Synapse.
I thought I'd try one out for size. I trotted off to my local cycle shop and asked them, asked them to order one in for a test ride. I [00:07:00] also asked them to get me a Cannondale Super six Evo as I'd seen one on the Newbury ride and I liked the colors. About a week later I got a call. The Super six Evo was in the synapse was gonna take some time as demand was high.
I went to the shops and took it out for a test drive. It kept up with the traffic. It flew up local hills. Descending was a dream. I walked into the shop ready to buy it then and there, but it was a thousand pound more than the Synapse. So I decided to wait. On the day of my birthday, the Synapse arrived and I ran to the shop excited about getting a new bike.
I took it out on the same ride as the Evo and hated it. I got back to the bike shop and bought the Super 6 Evo, there and then. The new love of my life. Because let's face it, a bike can steal your heart too.[00:08:00]
A chance encounter. By mid 2015, I was juggling 90 mile cycle rides, 5k runs, and a gym routine that had me lifting weights like I was auditioning for Thor. Okay, maybe Loki. I still hadn't booked an Ironman race, and I was stuck as I didn't know how to proceed. Then I had a chance conversation with a work colleague, who was also looking at completing an Ironman.
He had a plan. Do the St. Paulton half in May 2016, then move on to the Austria full the following year. He had a training plan and was focused. Just the inspiration I needed. I asked if I could train and do the race with him, and he agreed. We met up, we did a couple of bike rides together. At the beginning of August, I paid for my race.
I went to find him to let him know I was booked in, but he wasn't at his desk. [00:09:00] I found a colleague of his who informed me that he'd broken his tibia the day before. I was instantly deflated and my training slowed considerably. I joined a Facebook group called The Ironman Journey. And their motto was, don't be shit.
It made me laugh and was full of really good advice. Little did I know that it would become my mantra. I'd started to fall in love with running. I was happily trotting along on the treadmill and steadily progressing. After each run, I'd do a foam roller workout, which meant that I never struggled with aches and pains the next day.
In July, I decided that I was ready to attempt my longest run. 8k. I got all my comfortable running stuff and headed off to the gym, and after a weights workout and a bit of a warm up, I was [00:10:00] off. Not a particularly fast pace, but I felt good and I was trotting along happily. At about 20 minutes into the run, I was getting a lot of stares from other gym goers, and after another 10 minutes, one of the gym staff approached me.
He looked at me and he said, You alright? Yes. I replied a little puzzled. He nodded at my chest and said, Are you sure? I looked down at my bright green running top and there was blood streaming from my nipples. I hadn't used anything to protect them and they though, and now, they were raw and bleeding. I looked up at the trainer and he said, what are you going to do?
I instantly thought of the new mantra, don't be shit. Another 4K, I replied, and kept on running. [00:11:00] Every run after that, I had a tub of Vaseline. The first test. In August, I decided to test how far I had progressed. And so I booked in to do a Tough Mudder. The event was in Henley on Thames, and the obstacles were not the main challenge.
There's a film with Sean Connery called The Hill, and it was an army disciplinary thing, where soldiers, in full gear, would run up and then down a hill, turn around and do it again and again and again. It was designed to break unruly soldiers and the Tough Mudder in Henley was exactly the same. You run up the hill, then down the hill, do an obstacle.
You run up the hill, back down the hill, do an obstacle. You run up the hill, down the [00:12:00] hill, you get the idea. It was so demoralizing and such a test of mental strength of character. I completed it in four and a half hours with the help of one of my cousins, and it taught me a lot about myself. I drove us home and I asked my cousin how he would spend his evening.
He said he was going to go for a walk and then go to bed. What a wimp, I thought. I'm having a bath and I'm off to the pub, I said. Three hours later, I woke up in a cold bath, unable to get out as I was so sore. Took me another 30 minutes to flop out of the bath onto the floor. I dried myself off, went to bed.
He didn't wake up until the next morning. Expert advice at work. I happened to meet another triathlete and he advised me to join a triathlon club. I searched the [00:13:00] internet and found a group that worked well for me. Try London. They were called. I had joined and attended their induction. They offered some great advice.
Number one, Never do an Iron Man as your first triathlon who's booked an Iron Man. The inductor asked sheepishly put my hand up and explained that it wasn't until May. He felt that that would give me enough time to train. Number two, get at least six months of open water swimming under your belt. I'd forgotten about the swim.
I was enjoying riding my bike and doing 5K runs on the treadmill. As I mentioned, I was a good swimmer as a child, so I thought it would be easy to pick it back up. Advice number three, use the equipment that you're going to race in. I had to go out and go shopping. Yes! I bought a new wetsuit and some swimming trunks and [00:14:00] goggles, checked my gym membership, it included swimming, and that was a good start.
I got in the pool and tried to swim a length. I thrashed at the water, it went up my nose, down my throat, and at the end of 25 meters, I was exhausted. I realized I was going to need some help with the swim. I bought a nose plug and ear plugs, and I signed up for a 12 week course of lessons on a Friday night at the local pool.
I knew my friends would try to convince me to go drinking, and if I had swimming lessons booked, then I could justify to my brain that I couldn't go out for a beer. At the end of the three months, I was swimming six lengths of front crawl, and it left me tired. I'd get out of the water feeling drained. I started to have serious doubts about the swim leg of the race.
And that wasn't the only thing that was spinning around in my head. The race was [00:15:00] just over five months away. I didn't have a hotel. I didn't know how I was going to get my bike over to Austria. How do I get to the race? How do I get back from the race? Can I dismantle and reassemble my bike? What tools do I need?
All of these thoughts, and I hadn't even considered what level of training I should be doing. Again, I was ready to give up. But then I remembered, a friend had raced a few times. So I reached out and asked him how he transferred his bike. He told me about a company called Nirvana. They take care of everything.
He said, I looked them up, booked the hotel, the bike transport, the event transport, and a finish line photo. I only had to focus on my training. I slept soundly for the first time in a few weeks.
Swim training. On one of my many swim days, someone had mentioned in passing a [00:16:00] company called Total Immersion. And they said that they could help to improve your swimming. I was getting desperate. And so I looked them up. There was a one day course available in January 2016, and so I booked it. The day was a mix of theory and practice, with a lunch break in between, but it was really interesting, and by the end of the day, I'd gone from 24 down to 22 strokes per length, and I got out feeling fresh, although I did have to stop for a nap on the way home.
It felt like a really productive day. And one month after the course, I was able to swim 70 length and get out of the pool full of energy and go for a bike ride. At some point in late 2015, I started to get pain in my right foot whenever I ran. It was constant and I couldn't work out why. And after a trip to the GP, I found out that I [00:17:00] had plantar fasciitis.
I tried to run but could only do 2 or 3K. Before it was too painful. I managed one 5k run in the three months leading up to my race. My body was changing and so was my appetite and not being a sensible triathlete. I ate a lot of takeaway junk food to keep me fueled. At one point I could eat a burrito just like Scooby Doo.
Austria beckons. At the time of the race, I was working in security and I worked four days on then four days off and four nights on. The race was due after my four night shifts. I finished my last night, packed my bag, and headed to the airport. Had an easy flight, but I wasn't able to sleep very well. And I arrived in Austria on Friday afternoon, and I hadn't slept for nearly 24 hours.
So I [00:18:00] went to bed, and had a nap. But because of that, I didn't sleep very well that night. On Saturday, I registered for the race, dropped my bike off. I walked around the Athletes Village looking at all the fancy bikes on display. I bought a cap to run in and had a walk around, talking to people and taking in the atmosphere.
I went back to my hotel feeling excited, but a little bit tired and I had another nap. I woke up at 8pm feeling nice and refreshed. I knew I had a tough night ahead of me. I went for a walk and came back to the hotel and lay on my bed with my mind racing. I wasn't tired and I couldn't sleep. The hours ticked past and sleep eluded me.
And every hour in, I kept trying to convince myself that I would be okay. But at two [00:19:00] in the morning, after having no more sleep, I made the decision that I wasn't going to race, and I nodded off within minutes. I got up at six in the morning, had some breakfast, and went back to my room. I looked at my phone and there was an email from my gym instructor.
Hi Peter, you've come a long way since walking through the gym doors. As a trainer, I'm proud of you. It's people like you that make my work and passion more enjoyable. You've shown commitment on a daily basis, even when feeling under the weather and putting your social life on hold. Your determination and self improvement with a running school, swimming course, your courage and self belief.
Putting yourself outside your comfort zone, starting with your 5k run, your 10k run, completing the Tough Mudder, joining the triathlon club, [00:20:00] the Evans cycle events. And finally, when you booked your half Ironman, you've taken everything thrown at you and took it in your stride and you were never scared to ask for advice or help.
And I applaud you for that. Let all your long, hard, painful sessions pay off. I hope you've inspired a few people along the way. Remember, go at your own pace, stay relaxed and hydrated. I look forward to hearing all about it. Good luck. I know you'll give it 100%. I got dressed into my tri suit, picked up my wetsuit and made my way out of the door.
Crossing the finish line. One of the best bits of advice I had received was to wear two swim caps, put a cap on, put your goggles on, then put another cap on so that if someone's hand hits your head, they won't knock your goggles off [00:21:00] during the swim. I thought this was a great idea. The race was my third open water swim.
Piece of advice number two ignored. I placed myself in the 45 minute time bracket near the end of the swim line. The announcer said the water was 15 degrees and there was a big ooooo from the athletes. I looked at the person next to me and said, what's the problem? That's cold, he replied. I've been swimming in 12 degrees, I said.
Would that make a big difference? He looked at me and smiled. It'll be like swimming in a hot tub for That small joke not only made me smile, but gave me a confidence boost that I could actually do this. I had my two swim hats, my time in chip and I was ready to go. I dove into the water and it was lovely and warm, for me anyway.
I started swimming [00:22:00] away and after a few minutes I realised that no one was hitting me or kicking me. And I thought, what a waste of a second swim cap. I looked, picked my head up and looked out of the water and everyone was swimming 10 meters to my right. It seems that I pulled to the left when I swim and I ended up swimming an extra a hundred meters as I drifted left time and time again on a course that turned right.
I got out of the lake at about 10 in the morning and convinced myself that 56 K on the bike would be easy. I've been doing 40 miles regularly. How hard could it be? I changed into my cycle gear, placed my bag with the other two thousand. and grabbed my bike as I was running towards the transition exit. A volunteer started shouting at me in German.
I only speak English, I said. He gestured around his waist and [00:23:00] shouted back, RACEBELT! For those of you who don't know, if you leave the transition area without your race belt, you are automatically disqualified. I looked down and my race belt wasn't there. I ran back to where the bags were and told one of the volunteers that I'd left my race belt in my bag.
I was about ready to cry. He looked at the number on my wrist, waved his hands in the air for about 10 seconds and plucked my bag. Out of the sea of hundreds, I could have kissed him. I grabbed my race belt, put it on, and ran back to get my bike. I got to the exit of the cycle transition and realised I'd forgotten my cycle gloves.
Never mind, I'll go without them. The Austrian countryside was beautiful, and part of the race course was on the autobahn, [00:24:00] so I got to ride my bike on a motorway. It was very, very cool. As I turned off the auto barn, I headed into a climb. It was approximately eight kilometers and up the side of a mountain.
My heart sank. I remembered the Guilford and New market cycle climbs, and although they were not as long, they were steeper and I had completed them. So I knew that I could do this. Once again, I put the bike into a low gear. And just kept pedalling. I passed people who had got off their bikes and were trying to walk.
And I knew that if I got off, I would never get back on. The bike leg took me four hours and I was bitterly disappointed with my time. But considering that earlier that day I didn't want to race, I accepted it and congratulated myself on being two thirds of the way through. I went [00:25:00] into the second transition.
It was 27 degrees in May in the afternoon. My arms were burnt. My legs were burnt, but I had time to complete the run. So I wasn't giving up. I put on some sunscreen, the cap that I bought the previous day. And because of the plantar fasciitis, I'd only run that one 5k in the previous three months. I realized that the quick release laces were not giving my foot enough support.
So I reverted back to traditional laces. Tied up my trainers, walked out of transition, and started to run. The people in St. Poulton were amazing. They came out of their houses, had water to cool you down. They cheered, clapped, and supported every athlete, even those who were running last. With 13 kilometers left to go, I asked a police officer the time.
I heard her say 4. 30. [00:26:00] The race finished at 5. And I realized that I didn't have enough time to complete the race. My heart sank for the second time that day, and I stopped running. I stood still for a minute, trying to comprehend what was going on. I worked out how long I'd been on the swim, and then the bike, and I thought, it can't be 4.
30. And I asked her again, what time is it? 14. 30, she said again. This time, I heard her correctly, and a surge of energy welled up inside me, and I started to run again. With seven kilometers to go, I saw a lady struggling. And I thought I would help her. I stopped running and walked alongside her and started to chat.
I convinced her to run a bit, walk a bit, run a bit, walk a bit. And as we walked, we [00:27:00] talked. She was in her mid sixties and her and her husband did lots of events together. She enjoyed the endurance events and she talked about her family and life. And she was a genuine inspiration to me. And I thought to myself, I want to be doing Ironman when I'm in my sixties.
As we got to the last hundred meters referred to as the iron mile, there's a red carpet. I told her that I wanted to run that last 100 meters and ensure that I ran across the finish line. There were cheerleaders at the finish line and they cheered me. It took me eight hours, three minutes, 10 seconds.
I'll never ever forget it. German lady was running behind me and as she finished to the dances of the cheerleaders. I gave her a hug, congratulated her, and made my way to the athlete's tent. The next day, I got an email with my finish [00:28:00] place and time. I was about 1500 in a group of 2500. There were people who didn't start, those who were disqualified, and those who did not finish.
And just above my name was a German lady. We finished in eight hours, three minutes and nine seconds. I was furious.
What did I learn? Ask any Ironman finisher and they will tell you that they learned so much about themselves with each and every race. Well, here are my lessons learned. Have big goals, aim for the stars, and you may just get to the moon. Break your goals down into smaller, manageable pieces. Show up every single day [00:29:00] and do regular training.
Ask for help from people who know. There are people out there that have done anything that you're looking to do before. And most of them are willing to help pull you up. Keep a positive mindset. Every time I said that I wanted to quit, there were about 20 more that I just don't remember. If you stay positive, you will always be able to achieve your goals.
But my most important piece of advice. Never, ever stop for a 60 year old German woman. She'll beat you and smile while she does it. I've started training for my next race. Join me and I'll let you know how I'm getting on.
Join me for future episodes of Inspired to Try [00:30:00] as we delve deeper into the world of hypnotherapy, visualization and triathlon. Together we'll unravel the secrets of endurance athletes and equip you with the mental tools needed to conquer new heights. Keep pushing, stay inspired, embrace your journey and don't be shit.