I would like to thank all those who supported me leading upto and on the day of the event. The support on the day was fantastic. At very difficult times to see familiar faces who were making lots of noise cheering me on helped me so much. Thank you to Jenny & Issabelle, Simon and Gail, Mark, Beth and Daisy, Sean, Rad, Darren and Gid. You were all amazing. Special thanks go to my wife Jenny who has supported and put up with me over the past 8 months. I could not have done it without you. I love you so much. I've tried to capture the event, its scale and my feelings below. I hope you find it interesting, possibly amusing (if your amused by your fellow man being in pain!) and I hope it may inspire you to test your own limits. Believe me when I say the feeling, the buzz is unlike anything you'll experience in other sporting events. Sunday 20 June at Wimbleball Lake Exmoor was the setting for the Ironman UK 70.3 triathlon consisting of a 1.2 mile open water swim, 56 mile cycle and 13.1 mile run. 8 months of training came down to that day which started at 4am with two bowls of ready brek made with water. An upset stomach from the day before had thankfully subsided and I felt quite good. A 20 minute drive to Wimbleball Lake to be greeted by crowds and music. A few final preparations to my bike and it was on with the wet suit. By this point I am very very nervous. The scale of the event and challenge is hitting home hard. I have family and friends with me for support; without them I wouldnt have got through those testing moments. 6.40am c.1600 would be Ironmen (and ladies) walk down a grassy bank to the lake. The air temperature is 3 degree's. 6.50am all competitors enter the lake in preparation for the mass, deep water start. I look around, there are a lot of nervous faces. I'm terrified. A strange quiet descends then I hear the national anthem blasting out from the PA system. 1600 would be Ironmen sing at the top of their voices. I'm uplifted and ready. 7am; the horn sounds and the washing machine begins! I find my stretch of water quite early and settle into my rhythm. There's then a problem, the majority of the competitors become bunched after around 400m. I'm elbowed (accidently) in the face. I take a huge gulp of water from the lake. I have to tread water as I fight for breath. I'm jolted back into the reality of the event. I hear people around me saying "this is crazy". I gather myself and go again. I'm very conscious that this part of the event is my weakest discipline and that the 1 hour cut off time for completing the swim could come into play if I dont get back into my stride. I find my stretch of water again and push on. I reach the 2/3 stage and feel good. I'm starting to enjoy it as I'm more confident I'm going to make the cut off. One further mistake; I get my bearings wrong and think I'm closer to the finish than I am. This takes me off course but fortunately I realise and get back on track without losing too much time. I can see the finish, I can here the crowd. I push hard to get the blood flowing in my legs. I'm up and out quite smoothly. I look at the time, 45 minutes. I'm very pleased. I look to my left and see part of my fan club. The noise they make in supporting me is fantastic. I'm sure they were the loudest of any supporters all day. Its a 400m run upto the first transition (T1). I see Jenny and Issabelle. Both look surprised and relieved to see me. I give Issabelle a quick kiss and then I'm back to climb upto T1. I found my changing bag quite quickly. The transition tent is very busy and I look for somewhere to sit down. I find a spot and a helper who pulls off my wet suit far quicker than I could have done. Socks on, bike shoes on, suncream on, sun glasses and bike helmet on and I'm out the tent to my bike. I quickly pinch both tyres to make sure they haven't deflated overnight. They haven't and I unrack the bike and head for the bike mount line. The marshals point to a red line on the floor after which you can mount your bike. Its congested with a number of competitors struggling to get on their bikes smoothly. I'm on without too much trouble. To my right no more than 10 yards after the red line there is a man changing an inner tube. How unlucky can you get. I pray for better look. The bike course starts with a short down hill section and then straight into a 3 mile climb. Its not too bad and I'm feeling good. I'm passing quite a few bikes. My bike computer which I planned to use to help ensure I pushed enough/not too much based upon stats from training decides not to work. Its down to how I feel! The bike course is two laps. I reach the 14 mile point on the first lap and I'm feeling good. This event is deemed by the professional athletes as the toughest 70.3 event in the world. One of the main reasons for this is the marketing slogan of 52 hills in 56 miles. At this stage I'm thinking this is going to be easier than my training rides and I'm starting to think about my overall time. Big mistake. My lack of knowledge of the bike course jolts me back into reality. The final 12-14 miles of the lap is littered with long, steep hills. I get up them but I'm in pain for the first time. I now realise that my thoughts of coasting into the run stage were very wrong. The second lap of the two lap bike course started much the same as the first. The difference was the knowledge of what was to come. I attempt to conserve energy for the final section. As I reach the final section I have my only technical problem on the whole of the bike leg. Whilst at the time I was very unhappy, with hindsight I was far luckier than many I saw who had punctures, snapped chains or jammed gears. The cleat on my left bike shoe came apart and would no longer clip into the pedal. I had no purchase on the upward pull part of the revolution. Not too much of an issue on the downhill, flat or short hill sections. A major problem on the severe hills. There are many in the final section and on two I have no option (due to nearly falling off several times) but to dismount and try and run up the hill with the bike. I manage to negotiate the hills with only one of the severe ones left. I told myself there was no way I was going to let the cleat problem derail me anymore. The hill is long, winding and painful. My legs have no power left. I then hear my name being cheered. Its my fan club on either side of the road cheering me on. They had made about a six mile round trip on foot in 75ish degree heat to try and catch a glimpse of me on the bike leg. Its inspiring and my legs respond. I'm aware the bike leg has only 4-5 miles left and I'm starting to think how my legs are going to cope with a hilly half marathon in high heat. Im strangely looking forward to it and I tell myself there is absolutely no way that I wont finish the event. I ask for help from the big man (Lee not the other one) in the sky. I dismount and move into T2. I find my change bag and change over bike shoes for trainers and also change my socks for a dry pair. A fresh application of suncream and I'm off. I feel ok, then it hit me. The feeling that I'm sure has hit anyone aiming to complete an endurance event in high heat. I've taken on so much fluid I need a wee. I'm too far out of transition to turn back and use the toilet. I push on convinced the heat will make my body work hard and use the fluid. I'm also aware that I'm in a one piece triathlon suit and at that stage running through heavily supported areas. I reach a tree shaded area and I remove my problem. I can start to think about getting through the three laps of the run again. The run course is hilly and a mixture of grass, tarmac and gravel. Its very testing and I have to concentrate to ensure I dont fall (several competitors I see are not as lucky as me as they do take heavy falls). I run downhill towards Wimbleball Dam. The setting is spectacular and I'm beginning to enjoy the event again. I have to cross the dam and as I get to the entrance I'm greeted by my fan club. Its fantastic, uplifitng. I settle into my stride and decide on my refueling strategy at the aid stations. I remember the advice all the competitors were given at the race briefing the previous day; dont try and be a hare if you're not a hare, be a tortoise. They went onto to give advice based upon the strategy of Paula Newby-Fraser who is a legend in Ironman. We were told that her refueling strategy during the Ironman world championships was always the same - walk the full length of the aid stations to make sure to take the fuel on board and reduce the risk of upsetting your stomach. She won 7 world titles in succession I think. I decided that was good advice. I'd take water and mix with Gatorade at the first station and water and flat pepsi at the second and repeat this to the end. The need to stay hydrated is very apparent to me as the temperature continues to rise and I see a number of strong looking competitors physically wilting. Be a tortoise.. I meet my fan club again and receive more uplifting support. I can here my daughter screaming support at here Daddy. It brings me to tears. Its a good job I'm wearing sunglasses and sweating profusely otherwise someone might have noticed. I start the third and final lap. A guy in front of me takes a fall. He's up quickly and I briefly stop to see if he's ok. He is. One thing that I will always remember from the event was the camaraderie of the competitors and the fantastic support provided by the crowds and the race crew. The race crew are all volunteers and receive no pay. They are without doubt amazing people. I'm suffering, my legs have little left in them. I have no idea of how long the event has taken me or my likely finish time. I never thought I'd think this but I genuinely didnt care. I wanted to soak up the atmosphere before it was over. All kinds of emotions were going through my mind. I think of Lee a lot and struggle to keep my emotions in check. I start the run up the final hill one right turn and I would be on the finish chute with the crowd. I can here the PA system pumping out the music. At the start of my third lap I'd heard them playing Saturday Night by Wigfield. I'd promised myself then that if that was the kind of song being played as I neared the finish I'd run in circles until something more appropriate came on. I'm lucky, I hear the familiar sound of Ocean Colour Scene; couldnt have been better. I make the turn and the noise is incredible, the support fantastic. I see my fan club to the left cheering me on to the end. I cross the line in 6 hours 36 minutes. I talk to the big man and share the moment with him. I'm am Ironman 70.3 athlete, a finisher. I'm presented with my medal and finishers T-shirt. I have my official finishers photo taken and then I'm off to find my fan club. Its very emotional. Not much is said but I'm sure there were a few wet eyes behind sunglasses. Me, I cried like a baby. I hope you enjoyed my recount of the event. I feel honoured to have been able to compete and complete such a fantastic event in memory of a great man and for a great cause. At time of writing sponsorship is still being collected but I expect to raise over £1000 for Brain Tumour UK in Lee's name. You can still make a donation. If you're able please do. Thanks Chip