Blog de Phil

Too Long; Didn’t Read
On Sunday, September 14, 2025, I completed the Men’s Ironman World Championship in Nice, France. The 3.8 km swim was in the warm, blue Mediterranean Sea. The 180 km bike was through the rugged Maritime Alps. The 42.2 km run was along the seafront promenade, lined with cheering crowds. This was an amazing, humbling, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to compete in the marquee event of the sport I love and have spent the last 21 years competing. My final time was 13 hours, 39 minutes.

*** Needle scratch sound effect *** Yup, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.

The Ironman World Championship is long course triathlon’s most prestigious event. It is an iconic race that is reserved for elite professional racers, and best of the best amateurs. To qualify for the World Championship, you must be among the fastest finishers in your age group at a qualifying event.  …typically…

I qualified at Ironman Ottawa, which was held 6 weeks prior to the World Championships. Six weeks is a quick turnaround. Not a lot of people are willing to tackle two Ironmans nearly back-to-back. On top of that, the men’s race this year was in Nice, France – and not Kona, Hawaii – which holds a more legendary prestige and thus a more desirable destination. If the top people in your age group don’t take their spots, they “roll down”, to the next fastest, and so on and so on… until someone takes them; and that’s where the rolldown magic worked in my favour, and me – in 39^th position grabbed a spot that would never be available in any other circumstance.

The Interim Training
I had six weeks between races. I took the first week very light, and then focused on climbing hills in Gatineau Park and also getting some long slow runs into my legs. I was in decent shape going into Nice. I actually felt like I had made some running gains between Ottawa and Nice, and thought I was maybe on track to get that elusive 4-hour Ironman marathon (insert retrospective laughter here).

Arrival, Logistics, and Pre-Race
Getting to Nice was simple enough — plenty of direct flights from Montreal. We cut things close though, landing on Friday morning with the race on Sunday. The travel was uneventful, and the six-hour time change didn’t hit us too badly. On arrival, we took the tram (bike bag and all) from the airport right into the middle of town to the Ironman expo for registration. There were no line ups, and registration was done in 10 minutes. From there, it was a 2 km walk to our Airbnb, where we got lucky with an early check-in.

The first order of business was reassembling the bike, always a nervous time as you hope it survived the flight unscathed. It did. A quick spin down the Promenade confirmed all the gears were working and the bike was rolling as it should. That evening was the athlete banquet. The imposter syndrome started to fade, and I finally accepted it: F’ this, I belong here.

Saturday was spent at the expo, dropping money on useless knick-knacks like a $27 water bottle and a $5 sticker, but most importantly - sourcing some CO₂ cartridges since you can’t fly with them (these are used for quick tire inflation in case of a flat). Back at the apartment, I packed my two transition bags — one for the swim-to-bike, one for the bike-to-run — and headed down to the transition area to rack the bike and drop the bags.

Nighty night. I actually slept reasonably well. Calm, nonchalant; nothing to prove, nothing to lose. This was my Ironman swan song, the cherry on the cake of my triathlon career.

Race Morning
My swim start was scheduled for 7:54 a.m., the second-to-last wave. We had pre-booked an Uber to drop us near to the start, but with all the road closures, he only ended up taking us about 500m. Lol.

Race morning faffing about was held to a minimum. I got into transition, found a buddy with a bike pump, pumped up to 80psi, made sure there was no brake rub, put my bottles on my bike, made a successful visit to the porta-potty, and found Guylaine on time to hear the pros go off at 7:05. Shortly thereafter we said our goodbyes, and I headed down to the staging area on the beach to settle in.

As each wave was sent off, the announcer was playing a song that synched up with that age-groups’ party song. Ours got everyone pumped… Thunderstruck.

The Swim
The hot topic leading up to race day was whether wetsuits would be legal. Wetsuits were invented to combat cold water but have the added benefit of buoyancy and can improve swim speed by 10%. They are a huge help for weaker swimmers. At a certain temperature wetsuits are banned because they can lead to overheating. Ottawa was borderline and was wetsuit legal. The water temperature on race day in Nice was above the threshold – so wetsuits were not allowed. In lieu of wetsuits, participants are allowed to wear “swim skins”, which are fabric unitards that keep all your bits and pieces tight to the body, and marginally reduce drag.

The swim start line was 25 meters offshore, between two inflatable buoys. A couple of stand up paddleboarders patrolled a line to keep us in check before the horn went off. Well, I totally didn’t know this, and as soon as we were released into the water, I took off like a bat out of hell, and swam the fastest 25 meters of my life, only to come to a complete dead stop at the “official” start line – duh.

Swim start – take 2 – Horn goes off, and now, we are swimming. I’m a good swimmer, but everyone else here, thinks they’re good swimmers. It was chaotic. Being at the front means you’re going to get kicked, punched, elbowed and boxed in. I held back a bit, not wanting to exit early with an injury. Somewhere in the chaos though, I was smiling. I was staring into the bright turquoise of the Baie des Anges, with a grin from ear to ear: “Phil, you’re at the Ironman World Championship!”

The swim course was like a pair of pants. Straight out for 800m, turn right, straight for 200m, turn right, 800m back to shore (one leg of the pants done), head back out for another leg and end up back on the beach. The chaos settled after a while and would ebb and flow as we picked up and swam through blobs of slower swimmers from previous waves. This would also bring me a smile. Passing people is more fun.

Transition 1

One hour and seven minutes after starting, I hit the rocky beach shore and finished the first course of the day. I was 38^th out of 359. It was a good time for me, particularly without the aid of a wetsuit, but with the added benefit of saltwater buoyancy. The run to bike, was up a ramp off the beach, through a series of racks where our individual bags are hanging, and then into a large change tent. The tent was filled with 200+ chairs. Each one was fully occupied. Bummer, I ran to the end of the tent, dumped my bag on the floor – got organized; swimskin off, helmet on, sunglasses on, cliff bar in mouth, shoes in hand. The run from tent-exit to my bike spot was about 300m. It felt like an eternity to get there. Eventually, I was united with my bike. Shoes on, a quick check of the tires to make sure the pressure was good, and I was off. Guylaine was able to catch me on the way out and cheered me on.

My day almost ended at the bike mount line. I’m not super stable myself getting on my bike after an ironman swim, but the guy immediately in front of me was much less so – and was having difficulty clipping his shoes in, I miscalculated his ability, and he almost side-swiped me zig-zagging his way onto the bike course. Catastrophe averted. I was off.

The Bike

The bike course here is tough. I knew that it would be the toughest Ironman bike courses I have done. What makes it tough is not only the climbing, but also the descending. The total elevation gain is over 2400 meters. I had broken it down as follows: 10K flat, 22K rolly with two steep kickers, 8K downhill, 20K constant climb at 5%, 52K rolly, 12K downhill, 10K climb at 5%, 33K downhill with a 2K climb mixed in, and then 10K flat back to transition.

Some of the bike course was literally carved out of the mountains. The route featured tunnels, multiple switch-backs, rock arches, stunning views, and a valley spanning viaduct. At one point, I was at the bottom of a long snaking climb, and could see bikes far above me,  “oh man, I wish that was me” I said. An hour later, I was at the top of the same climb, looking down at the bikes on their way up – “suckers!”.

Triathlon bikes, with their deep, aerodynamic wheels, have a unique sound; particularly at speed. On the top plateau section of the course, there was a long and narrow out-and back, it was relatively flat – and a good opportunity for us to stretch out low in our aerobars and get generate some speed. The sound of bike, after bike, whizzing by was pretty cool.

What goes up, must come down.

Honestly, I was mostly afraid of the downhill. But it was awesome. I felt like I was in a Need-for-Speed video game. The cliffs and landscape whizzing by. My top speed was never too high, as the line down was twisty and turny, you’d hit max speed and then have to slow down for the upcoming (almost) hairpin turn. Sighting ahead where you want to go and steering with the belly button was the trick to keeping a tight turn.

Cue the weird noise from my bike… at maximum speed, my rear wheel started emitting an unnervingly loud noise – “Oh god, please don’t lock up!” I had visions of my bike suddenly catapulting me off the mountain. It felt fine, it was just really loud. I made it down the mountain and back safely, phew. I’ve since Googled the issue, it’s literally called the Mavic Death Squeal and is a known issue with my wheels.

The final 10K. At this point, I’ve been on the longest bike ride of my life, almost 7 hours. I’m feeling pretty tired and anxious to get back into transition. My feet are on fire. The heat on my soles is becoming unbearable – back on the promenade with 6K to go, I took my feet out of my shoes and rode on top of my shoes – ah, instant relief. Much less power, but the compromise was worth it.

Transition 2

I pulled up to the dismount line, and swung my leg over my bike, feeling like an old man. Oh god, how am I going to run a marathon??? I was stung with a slight moment of disappointment – usually, in World Championship events, you finish the bike, and a volunteer whisks away your bike for you, a nice touch, but alas, not here, I had to clumsily jog with it 300m back to my racking spot. Back in the transition tent for a full gear change – shorts, t-shirt, shoes and hat. On with my running belt that held a maple syrup gel pack and my race number, and off I went for the marathon.

The Run

I was mentally prepared for the run. In my head it was going to be boring, and I was ready for that. 42km broken up into 4 pancake-flat out and backs. Run 5.25km out towards the airport, 180 degree turn and 5.25km back towards the finish line, repeat for 4 loops. No problem. I was pretty tired starting the run, and had conceded that a 4-hour marathon was not in the cards. I was still determined to keep the pace around 6 minutes and hope for a 4:30. 

I set off and was optimistic - I really felt like I was running nice and slow – The first K was 5:40 (pleasantly surprised) but even then, I told myself to slow it down – the next K was 5:28 (Oh jeepers, we know how this ends). No, no, no, slow it down… shortly thereafter, I spotted Guylaine on the sideline, I veered in for a kiss and hug, I told her I felt fine (I did). The run out to the airport was facing the warm sun. The run back was into a headwind. I power-walked most of the aid stations dumping water on my head and back, ice in my shirt, always a cup of precision hydration electrolyte drink and a gel every 10K or so (In retrospect, I probably needed more than that, but that’s all I could muster the courage to try and swallow at the time). Laps 1 and 2 were great. On pace and high spirits. Half-marathon split was 2:04 – This is going to be great…. And then it happened. I started to let myself walk. The mental games took up most of lap 3 – Keep running to that crosswalk, as I approached it, I would sight another spot in the distance, ok – keep running to that street-sign, etc. etc. By lap 4, the sun had gone down, and the wind had picked up – I was getting chilled, and the mental games were looking more like – start running at that bush… ok, if not that bush, then that crosswalk… ok, at that sign we start running again. Because of the out-and-back, I would see Guylaine 8 times on the run, and that really helped keep me motivated. At one point, I met up with a guy from Ogdensburg and we chatted about the Maple City Triathlon and the Cornwall Triathlon.

Eventually, one last turn at the airport and I knew there was only 5K left. There was no doubt I was going to finish. I was way off my target time, but then again, that was just an arbitrary number. I was going to finish the Ironman World Championship, and I was smiling. Probably too much. Almost everyone along the sidelines (and they were completely packed) would say things like, “There you go! What a smile!”.

And then the moment I was looking forward to the most. The fork in the road – to the left it’s marked Laps 2 and 3. To the right, it’s marked “Finish Line”.

“Phil Barnes from Canada…. You are an Ironman… that’s how you do it”

Conclusion

This report could go on and on. There’s plenty I haven’t even touched on. But it conveys the gist of the experience. I’m completely thrilled and grateful I had the opportunity to participate in this event. It’s a unique opportunity – imagine as a duffer golfer, getting the chance to play in the Masters? Or the local tennis expert getting a call up to Wimbledon. This is the big-show for triathlon, and I was there. Awesome.

My performance was acceptable. I’m always hard on myself though. The swim was great, the transitions were so-so, the bike was mostly controlled but I seemed to lack energy. The run was good until it wasn’t. Ironman is tough – I seemed to have had it easy back-in-the day, but now I just don’t have the will to endure the necessary training to get that run down to where it needs to be, and I don’t have the fortitude to put up with the discomfort during the event to eek out a few extra minutes here or there. I’m fine with that. It was my longest and slowest race by far, but I can retire now from ultra long distance racing with the rare honour of having done this event.

Geek Stuff

Swim: Synergy swimskin. Bike: 2013 Cervelo P2 @ 50/34 with 12-32; bottle cage on downtube, profile-design aerodrink up front and behind the saddle bottle holders for flat kit and spare bottle; Mavic Cosmic Pro aluminum wheelset with 45mm fairing; rim brakes; 25mm Continental GP5000 tires with latex tubes; aero road helmet. Run: Saucony Endorphin Speed 5. Race weight: 157 lbs (71.4kg) Average Bike Power: 139W (2.0 W/kg); Normalized Power: 168W (2.4 W/kg). Max 20-minute 199W (2.8 W/kg). Max 60-minute 180W (2.5 W/kg), the climb from 40km to 54km.

Nutrition

Breakfast: 2 bowls of Choco-Flakes, banana. Setup: Clif bar + sip 1 bottle of Gatorade. Pre-swim: 1 x Gu w/Caffeine. T1: Clif Bar. Bike: 1 bottle Maurten 320, 3 bottles Gatorade, 2 bottles of Precision Hydration, water when possible, 1 Scratch chews, 1/2 pack of Clif Blocks, 3 half Maurten Bars, 4-5 gels, 3 salt pills. Run: 4-5 gels, Precision Hydration every station. If I never see another Maurten Gel, I won’t be sad. 1 porta-potty stop in T1, 2 on the bike, 1in T2.

What’s next?

See you in Kona, Baby! Guylaine will be racing the Women’s Ironman World Championship on October 11. Let’s Gooo!

 

Out of the water

 

Feeling great about the swim

 

Young and naive

Magnificent bike course

 

On the run, heating up!

 

Lap 2 of the run

 

Finally, down the finish chute!

 

Woo! Big finish!

 

Finished!

 

A long day. Humbling results. Grateful for the opportunity.

 

You forget all the misery in the last 100m.

“Okay, Barnesy, don’t f--- this up.” I jogged out of the T2 tent, took a quick spritz of sunscreen from the volunteers and set off for a nice and slow, controlled 4-hour marathon. I was enroute to smashing my Ironman PR … and possibly snagging a rolldown slot to the World Championships. 

Challenge Roth Race Report (June 25, 2023)

Challenge Roth is generally accepted as the second most important triathlon in the world, behind the Ironman World Championships in Kona, Hawaii.  Roth is a small German village, population of 25,000, approximately 40 min drive from Nüremburg to the north and 90 minutes from Munich to the south. The triathlon spans a total distance of 226 km (140.6 miles) throughout the neighbouring Bavarian villages and countryside. The region fully embraces this triathlon and the 3500 competitors by furnishing 7500 volunteers and 300,000 fully engaged spectators. It is a bucket-list event for many and Guylaine and I were fortunate to gain entry as it sells out quickly: in fact, 23 seconds when we registered. 

We arrived “on location” Thursday morning prior to Sunday’s race. This was enough time for us to acclimate to the time change (+6 hours), assemble the bikes, and attend all the required pre-race check-ins, briefings, and festivities. We had rented a nice VRBO in a tiny farming hamlet called, Theilenhofen, a 25ish minute drive to Roth and also 25 minutes from the town of Hilpolstein where the race actually starts. Oh and yes, I survived the autobahn experience - it was terrifying being passed by a Maserati (who was surely doing more than 185). 

The Race

We arrived on site at 5:00AM as advised by the race organizers. Guylaine was to start at 7:15 and I at 7:35. We had plenty of time to waste being nervous, checking over everything 3 times, and getting in line to start way too early. The pros went off at 6:30. The sound of the canon going off scared the bejusus out of us and also grounded us: it’s “GoTime”… 3 years of Covid delays and 1000s of training miles were about to come to a head. 

The Swim (3800 meters in the Donau Canal)

I had anticipated being able to have a bit of a warm up swim prior to starting. This was not the case. The 7:35 AM starters, as identified by the marking on our swim caps, were allowed to cross the first timing mat and enter the water at 7:30. We would have only enough time to wade out the 100 meters to the start rope and tread water anxiously for the sound of our own canon.

I could see the starter’s hand. The “German-3-sign”, followed by 2 fingers, 1 finger and then BOOM! I pressed ‘start’ on my watch and off we went. 

My goal for the swim was 1:40/100m pace. This would equate to 1hr3mins total swim time. I am a decent swimmer, but this was still an ambitious goal. I was hoping some good swim tactics would pay off. They did. Tactic 1 - swim as close to the middle of the canal as possible (my career as a water resources engineer thanks me). Tactic 2 - find other fast swimmers and draft. In this type of triathlon you are in fact allowed to swim right behind someone; you are NOT allowed to ride the bike within 12 m of anyone. After the first frantic 2 minutes I spotted a group of swimmers that were about 15 metres in front of me.  I made a conscious effort to burn some energy and bridge the gap, with the hopes that their momentum would pull me along. It worked.  After catching up, I could hang on to the back of the group by not expending too much energy and give myself an opportunity to recover from the previous hard effort.

Before long we were catching the slower swimmers from previous waves. Also, one-by-one the group I was in was thinning out. By the time we hit the first turnaround buoy, it was only the lead swimmer and me. The next 1000m was very chaotic as we were catching up to and swimming around and over increasingly thicker groups of slower swimmers. It wasn’t pleasant for me, and I am sure it wasn’t ideal for them. 

Eventually at probably 2500m, I could sense my chaperone was tiring out, so I took a leap of faith and powered on by myself. 

The Kick to the face

At the final turn around buoy, with 400 meters left back to shore, it happened. BOOM.  Not another canon, but a Chuck Norris-esque roundhouse to the left eye from a very enthusiastic breast stroker. Simultaneously I saw stars and blackness, the sound of bells and my own chattering teeth deafened me. After what seemed like an eternity I figured out what happened and swore very loudly.  My aggressor was treading water apologetically, I nodded and powered on with the resulting adrenaline boost.   

I hit the shore and was helped out by the volunteers. I stopped my watch, it read 3900 meters and 1hr 1min. I was so stoked. Way faster than I would ever have imagined. I was looking forward to having it uploaded to Strava for all to see. In my post orgasmic state I think I tapped ‘discard workout’ instead of ‘save’. ?? Fortunately, the timing mat was right at the exit and it exists as a split on the official results. 

Transition 1 (Changing from Swim to Bike)

Immediately out of the swim, we are ushered up a short path and into a large tent. Along the path are 3 aisles. Along the aisles, on the ground, in numerical order are our labeled transition bags. I spotted mine (#2537) and picked it uo as I jogged into the tent. 

I have found what works best for me is to swim with my cycling outfit under my swimming wetsuit. All I needed to do in the tent was take off my wetsuit, take out my bike shoes, put on my race belt (with my race number attached) and put in the few items of food I wanted to carry in my back pocket.  I am usually fast in these transitions, but I had agreed to not rush myself and not make any mistakes. Leaving the change tent, I only had a short jog to my bike, which had been assigned a spot very close to the tent and conveniently close to the ‘bike exit’ location of transition.  My total changeover time was 4 minutes. I was on my bike and rolling through the throngs of cheering fans. 

The Bike (178 km, approximately 1500m of total climbing; 2 x 85ish km loops plus a 10ish km segment to T2)

Cautious not to over bike, I was committed to biking within my means, which technically equates to averaging 170 Watts Normalised Power during the ride. Using an online tool (bestbikesplit.com), this would translate to an average speed of 33km/hr assuming certain aerodynamic parameters.  I had setup my bike computer to Auto-Lap every 10km and I was watching my average power expenditure and speed the entire time, allowing myself to coast on downhills and being careful not to go too hard up the hills. Theoretically it worked. My final bike split was 5:38:03; within 30 seconds of my prediction. 

About the Bike Course 

Wow.  Yes.  Outstanding. Every minute I felt like I was riding the Tour-de-France. Through EVERY small town, the streets were lined with cheering fans, up every steep hill - the crowds encouraged you up, and then the most iconic section of the course, the Solarer Berg Hill. A section where you cannot see the road in front of you for all the cheering fans. Words really can’t describe the experience. I won’t even try. It was fantastic, I was smiling ear to ear. A memory that can never be erased. 

The bike course was very scenic; along country roads and in and out of numerous small towns. The road surface was immaculate; smoother than a fresh jar of Skippy. The roads were 99% closed to vehicular traffic. There was only ever one direction of bike flow; you didn’t see bikers approaching you from the other side. It was a “lumpy” course; I was constantly scrolling through my gears up and down little hills. It was more technical than expected; many twists and turns including high-speed switch-backs on one of the longer descents. Special safety barriers were in place to catch people from falling off the mountain. The route was well-patrolled by race marshals; I was passed at least 10 times by referees on motorcycles. Drafting also appeared to be enforced as there were offenders serving their ‘time-outs’ in the various penalty boxes around the route (for those familiar, they have done away with the penalty lap on the run course). It was a hot day; hot and sunny. No clouds and no shade. During the bike, it didn’t seem to bother me.  I drank a lot of water and iso (isotonic is the European alternative to Gatorade, although it is nothing like Gatorade, it is quite mellow tasting and for me seemed easier on the gut - more reminiscent of eLoad, which I have had previously in Canada). But very sticky, I have never been so sticky, my arms were almost glued to the arm pads.  

The aid stations were plentiful, well staffed, well stocked and ideally positioned, usually at the base of a hill. The gels and bars were the European version of PowerBar. The gels have a liquidy consistency that is not unpleasant but different. They did not appear to upset my stomach (despite a small vomit episode at 150k, but I think that was due to cautiously consuming too much liquid). 

After 2 loops on the bike, you take a right hand turn and head about 10k towards transition 2 in Roth. 

Random thoughts about the bike course: there were many über-bikers, the pros are wicked-fast.  Magnus Ditlev with Sam Laidlow inches behind passed me like I was standing still, they were finishing lap 2 as I was finishing lap 1.  They also had a mega lead on Ben Kanute and Patrick Lange in 3rd and 4th place as it took a long while before they eventually passed me. That was it for my view of the pro race; I was hoping to see the women go by me. The hills were not terribly hard: Greding was like La Conception (Mont Tremblant) and Solarer Berg was like Pink Lake (Gatineau Park). I was worried the crowds on Solar would spike my power, but there was such a logjam, I just sat up and spinned.  The second time up was even slower due to the backup. The crowds had thinned out about 50% the second time up. 

Transition 2 (Changing from Bike to Run)

At the dismount line, my bike was whisked away by a volunteer. I was ushered along the green carpet, around a corner, and there was another volunteer holding up my transition bag for me to grab. This bag was previously dropped off the day before and contained my running shoes, socks, hat, sun glasses, some extra gels, and my running outfit. For Ironmans, I prefer a full clothes change, it might add 20 seconds to my transition time, but that fresh feeling is fantastic. So, uhm, at Roth, the change tents are co-ed. Oh, and I was assigned an enthusiastic young lady to help me out. I did confirm, “am I allowed to fully change in here?”  Throwing modesty out the window I was quickly buck naked and then freshly reclothed. Taking the time to properly dry my feet off, arrange my socks, and double-knot my shoes, I was out the tent and running in 4:36. On my way out I was handed a stack of cold wet sponges.  I squeezed them over my head and stuffed one down my shirt. 

The Run (42 km)

For some reason I hadn’t studied the run course. I knew there were some out and back parts, and some time spent along the canal. Truth be told, I absolutely hated the run course. Shortly after the transition tent, we are sent through a small industrial park, and along the canal.  The run along the canal is on crushed stone. It is basically a long 20km out and back. It never seemed to end. Some people like soft stone to run on, I find it tiring.  Eventually you finish that part and then you run another small out and back, and finally you run yet another long out and back. Although I do own a pair of Nike “super shoes”, I had opted for my regular shoes since the Nike’s are a little on the tight side and give me blisters after 10k.

Despite not liking the run course I was doing well: too well.  My aim was for a 4 hour marathon, this would mean holding a 5:40 pace… my first few km splits were in the low 5:00 range. I could not force myself to run any slower. Eventually by about 15k, I had managed to wean myself down to 5:30s, and I thought I was destined for a new Ironman PR. 

Cue the unexpected left hamstring cramp at 23k. “Ohhhhh noooo!” Mont Tremblant all over again???  Actually, not.  I was able to work it out and get back without losing too much time, but then… shortly after, cue the darkness. 

I have mentioned that it was hot.  So hot, I was taking unprecedented efforts at every aid station to get as much cold water dumped on me as possible (and they were all set up to accommodate this: big vats with volunteers dumping pails and pitchers over all requesting it). I had even picked up several filthy discarded sponges along the way to stuff into my top to hold the cold water. The preceding 8 hours of exercise, the relentless sun and the quick initial pace of the marathon physically prevented me from running. I felt terrible, certainly I was flirting with heat stroke. I was forced to walk. I still felt strong mentally and was determined to continue, but I just could not run. Eventually I started to feel better, I put my head down and was able to jog the last 8km.  5K left… I can do that.  4K left… I can do that. 3K left… less than 20 minutes. And then finally, into the stadium. Slight sensory overload.  I had planned to soak it up, but I just wanted it all to be done. I crossed the line and I do remember raising my hands. 

Final marathon time 4:24. Final overall time 11 hours 12 minutes. 

Challenge Roth has lived up to the hype. The fan support was unbelievable. And yet, if I am to be honest, it still leaves a lot to be desired. For two people participating, it is a logistical nightmare. The overall size for me was too much. I won’t dwell on the negatives; I was fortunate to have participated in an historic day; both world records were beaten. And, despite my own misfortune on the run, I am still proud of my accomplishment.

Guylaine can relay her own experience, but suffice to say, I was brought to tears as she arrived at the finish line and also our embrace will not be forgotten.

It was a perfect day for the Cornwall Triathlon. The morning started cool (but not cold), and when the sun was up, it was warm (but not hot). The humidity was low, and the wind was almost negligible.

It's been three years since I've done the Cornwall Triathlon, and I wasn't sure what to expect. Surely, there would be no way I could come close to my previous best of 2:25. With minimal swimming, and lack of focus since Tinman, I was thinking it would be lucky for me to flirt with 2:30.

The Swim (1500m, 2 x 750m loops)



The swim went great. I had no idea how fast I was going. It felt pretty comfortable, not anaerobic. I got isolated after 750m, and pulled a group for 375m, and then merged with another group on the final 375m. I had opted for the sleeveless wetsuit, sacrificing perhaps a little speed for comfort - and ease of removal - I wanted to wear my watch the entire race so I would have an accurate idea of race-time.

It was satisfying to hit the shore at 24:something, but a huge surprise to find out I was 5th out of the water, and ahead of Chris and Dan.

Official Swim Time: 24:17 (1:37/100m).

T1

I had pre-planned not to use the wetsuit strippers, but was slightly disoriented and forgot to even start undoing my wetsuit until I was nearly at the bike racks. It came off easily enough, and I was on my way to the mount line with little-to-no faffing about. I entered 5th, but came out 4th. I had opted for shoes on the bike, but struggled a bit getting strapped in (not a fan of my new shoes).

Official Transition 1 Time: 1:40

Bike (40K, 4 x 10K loops.... actually slightly less, total bike distance was 39.2K)

It seemed to take the better part of the first loop to get comfortable. I didn't feel like I had any power in my legs. I was hoping to be in the 220s, but was struggling to keep 190 W.  My speed was pretty good though, so I used that to cheer me up.

I kept the bike honest and spent some matches to make passes whenever I crept into a draft zone. Only to be eventually re-passed.

Despite being less than planned, my average power output was consistent. The laps were 203W, 209W, 211W and 204W respectively. I was net passed by 5 people and started the run in 9th position.



Official Bike Time: 1:04:29 (36.1 km/hr @ 210 W weighted average)

T2

Seemed methodical enough, but at the time it felt like I spent too much time wasting time. I put socks on for the run.

Official Transition 2 Time: 1:20

Run (10K, 1 x 5K out-and-back)

When I crossed the timing mat for the Run out, I hit lap on my watch. Being pre-set up in triathlon-mode it should have switched over to Run mode. But somehow, I must have not pressed the button hard enough when I started transition, so for the first part of the run it still thought I was in transition.

I did happen to notice the time, which was the current race time, and it said 1:30 (1 hour and 30 minutes). This seemed wrong to me, I thought that was my bike time. But then I realized that it was in fact my race time, and I started to salivate... I could run a 60 minute 10K and still get 2:30. .... I could run a 50 minute 10K and get a huge PB of 2:20. ... If I ran a 45 minute 10K I would be 2:15!!

Not being in "run" mode, when I got the first kilometer marker, my watch didn't beep, so I didn't know my pace... exactly. It did read 1:35 race time.... so I thought, oh well, I'm running 5-minute kilometers. I made a deal with myself that I would hit "Lap" at the turnaround, that way I would have my kilometer pace alerts on the way back to motivate me to keep going.

The run felt odd in that there was no one around me for the first 5K. I was completely alone, no one to pass, and no one was passing me. I had never experienced that at the Cornwall Triathlon. The first pass came unexpectedly just before the turnaround. And then, there were two more passes along the waterfront. Each time I was passed, it was with authority. I was clicking away in the mid 4:30's and 4:40s and these guys were going low 4:00s.

With about 3K to go, I was doing the math again. It was clear that a sub 2:20 finish time was going to happen. I was over the moon. I tried to will myself to run a little faster, to set a really low finish time, but with no one in front to catch, and no one behind to motivate me, and with a top-10 finish not going to happen, I kind of [regrettably] gave up and cruised it in for a final time of 2:17:52.9

Final Run Time: 46:09 (4:36/km pace; practically even splits for the first 5K and second 5K)

Final Finish Time: 2:17:52.9 [13/134 Overall, 12/87 Men, 4/26 M40-49]

Nutrition Report

2 bowls of Vector cereal for breakfast, 300 mL of water on the bike (not a lot), 2 gels on the bike, 1 gel on the run @ 5K, a sip of water at each aid station on the run.


Additional Barnes Family Deets:

Guylaine had a great race, setting a PB for herself at 2:42:45; and, Laura had a great debut at the Sprint distance with a 1:32:56 (and 2nd place in her category).


Past Cornwall Olympic History

Year	Swim	T1	Bike	T2	Run	Total
2019	0:24:16	0:01:40	1:04:28	0:01:20	0:46:08	2:17:52
2016	0:23:35	0:01:55	1:08:47	0:01:06	0:47:59	2:23:22
2015	0:27:08	0:01:38	1:09:38	0:01:15	0:46:07	2:25:54
2013	0:28:00	0:02:26	1:15:20	0:00:52	0:46:08	2:32:41
2012	0:30:06	0:02:01	1:13:59	0:00:58	0:44:39	2:31:40
2010	0:30:50	0:02:18	1:23:21	0:00:30	0:48:43	2:45:11
2009	0:32:17	0:02:00	1:16:31	0:01:00	0:53:21	2:45:08
2008	0:29:20	0:01:46	1:15:00	0:00:40	0:48:21	2:36:41