Last Sunday saw the first running of this new iron-distance race in the UK, in the genteel surroundings of Henley-on-Thames, and flying the flag for Ryton Tri were myself, and Ian Maddison, veteran of many ironman races.

Having registered and racked bikes on the Saturday afternoon, a leisurely day was spent hanging out round the town and at race HQ, before driving the bike course. Like idiots, our 2 supposedly experienced athletes came to the firm conclusion, from the car, that this was a fast course, and we would manage it all in the big ring. How wrong we were! A final meal in a local pub of scampi and chips (not exactly textbook), and it was off for an early night. I had stuck with soft drinks in the pub, although Madders was unable to resist the evil lure of a cask ale apparently named after our own esteemed swim technician, Dr Bob.

With a 6.30am start, the alarm sounded in our tent at a preposterous 4.20, and a couple of jam butties later, me and Madders, who was staying with Louise in 5-star en suite luxury in a nearly B&B, were on our way to the swim start. I was feeling some distance beyond nervous, almost on the point of throwing up said jam butties, but thought that seeing Madders, who takes ironman races in his stride, would give some re-assurance and settle the nerves a little. However, Madders was grimly silent and stony-faced as he emerged from his B&B in the darkness, and was clearly right up in the "zone". I had never seen him like that before, which only made me feel worse.

After a clear, chilly night, there was a lot of fog on the river, so the start was briefly delayed, while it cleared a little. Either that or they were waiting for a few people upstream to flush their toilets to warm the water up a bit. It was cold standing on the dew-covered grass, but when we eventually plunged into the Thames it wasn't too cold, almost pleasant in fact. The start was actually a false one, when some divot in the crowd blew a whistle, triggering a thrash at the front, so the starter took the sensible decision to sound the immediately claxon and get the first wave away, which contained both of us.

We both had satisfactory swims, with the only real unpleasant moments being swimming too near the bank and getting tangled in vegetation, and the odd mouthful of dieselly water, but that should make you go faster anyway. Sighting was not always great due to the lingering patches of fog, but the Thames isn't that wide here, so you can't go too far wrong if you keep the bank on the correct side. There is always the possibility of getting lamped by a rower, as this is the actual course of the Henley Regatta, but the rowers must have all been having a morning off. At the turn of the out and back course, I was expecting a nice helpful current to propel me back to T1 in half the time of the outward section, but it didn't happen, as the current was negligible. I got out of the water in exactly an hour, in 43rd place, with Madders not far behind in 63 minutes. The fastest swimmers had exited in a very impressive 48 minutes. T1 was at the beautiful Henley Business School, where the dilemma was how much clothing to wear on the bike to keep warm.

The sun hadn't really appeared by then, so it was baltic for the first few miles on the bike in only a wet tri-suit, but once we hit the first uphill section things started to warm up a little, and some blood seemed to be finally getting to the legs. The bike course was 3 loops of 36 miles, plus a bit more to get from T1, and then a bit more back to T2. On the first climb, I passed a large number of the faster swimmers, which was largely due to the need to warm up, rather than out of desperation to get through the field. Just after the first U-turn, Madders wasn't far behind me, and looked to be going well.

Although we northerners may smugly think of the south of England as being largely flat, this was far from easy bike course, with around 1800m of climbing in total, through the picturesque Chiltern Hills. The roads were closed, and there was a smattering of support on the course, which passed a number of idyllic country pubs. One of them was offering a hog roast and real ale festival, was became ever more tempting every time we passed it. The toughest climb on the bike leg was the aptly-named Pishill Bank (see later), although by the third time up here, some rather ruder swearwords were coming to mind. As ever in the UK, the road surfaces were quite rough on many parts of the course, especially compared to the roads of France or Germany, where surfaces are like a billiard table. This can make quite a difference to your speed on a bike, not to mention the extra pounding the sit bones take, wearing only a tri-suit with minimal padding.

Despite this race having a smaller field that many of the Ironman races in Europe, some riders still somehow managed to flout the no-drafting rule. As I worked my way through the field, on a flattish section I noticed up ahead a male rider right on the back wheel of one of the female pros, Yvette Grice, the eventual winner of the women's race. He couldn't have been getting much of a tow from her as she only weighs about 8 stone! As I passed them, I decided a comment was in order to the drafter. Whereupon he simply attached himself to my faster back wheel, leaving Grice trailing behind.

In a long race of any type, care must be taken to remain hydrated, so by this point I was needing the toilet. Rather than waste valuable time by stopping, with a drafter for company, I thought this would be an appropriate moment to have a pee, approaching at the foot of the aforementioned hill. I think that must have shifted him, as I didn't see him again. Not sure what gear Madders was using the last time up Pishill, but I most definitely was not in the big ring at this point! I was thankful I had been too lazy to put on a 25-12 cassette after that drive around the course, and was grateful for a 39/27 climbing gear. After a bike split of 5.16, I had moved up to around 15th place; Madders had a good ride of 5.54, and was also well up the field.

Having not done ironman for a couple of years, the memory had faded of how hideous an ironman marathon is! After a couple of miles, the legs did seem to get going though, around the 4 lap course of 6 and a bit miles each. The course crossed the river and followed a largely flat route through fields and lanes, and back along the Thames-side footpath, past sumptuous riverside properties and exclusive boat clubs. The sort of place it might have been nice to walk the dog, stopping for a pint and Sunday roast, at one of the yet more enticing pubs en route. Instead, we were in the purgatory of an ironman marathon! Passing those pubs and smelling the Yorkshires was torment. Near the start of the run, another athlete pulled up alongside, and when I saw him check his watch, I assumed he was wearing a Garmin. Asking how fast we were running, he told me 6.50 miling, as he was aiming for a 3 hour run. This was much too fast for me so I slowed down. With post-bike wobbly legs, I had no concept of how fast I was running- it could have been anywhere between 6 and 12 minute miling. As this guy sped away, I then had the sneaking suspicion that he had tricked me and we had been nowhere near 6.50 pace after all! Think he was in a relay team anyway, so it didn't matter.

Each lap took in the finish area and part of the town, where there was plenty of support from the crowds, which makes such a difference, when you are starting to flag. It is all too easy on the run to descend into a zombie-like trance, clocking off the miles, as the pain accumulates, and fatigue builds. I found it was helpful to try to engage with other runners, supporters and people on the feed stations, as this briefly distracts from the agony, although I probably annoyed a few runners by being annoyingly chirpy, like some sort of lycra'd Liverpudlian club comic. Especially since I was at least a lap ahead of the poor buggers! Passing Madders near the end of the first lap, he seemed to be going fine. About half way around the run, and still going fairly well, the heavens opened, and it rained torrentially for about half an hour. The cold water on fatigued muscles is just what you don't want, as this tends to trigger cramp, so I was forced to slow up and shorten my stride, to the favoured "ironman shuffle", in an effort to keep cramp at bay.

Eventually, it was the last lap, and I knew I was going to get round in sub 10 hours, barring a disaster, even though the tank was empty. A few more caffeinated energy gels were just the job, which added to the 15 or so I had already consumed on meant I was actually extremely wired by the last lap. Back over the bridge for the final time, and something vaguely resembling a kick finish, to hold off the faster finishing Yvette Grice, and that was it. Ecstacy and total exhaustion! And also an improvement on the last outing over the classic distance, which ended abjectly, in a rather expensive intensive care unit in Zurich.

Madders seemed even more wired than me at the end though, as after coming in he then didn't stop talking for the next 3 hours! When he had gone out for his last lap on the run, it looked like he might just sneak in for a PB, but it was not quite to be, although he still came in with an excellent 11.22 (run split 4.17, 113th position). As this was only 10 minutes from his PB, which was set on the fast Zurich course, Henley was arguably a better performance from the UK's hardest accountant (a title that he shares with Tyne Bridge Harrier, sometime triathlete and friend of Ryton Tri, Dave Moir).

My finishing stats were 13th overall in a time of 9 hours 47 (run split around 3.24, although it says 2.36 in the results at the moment, which I would have settled for). This was a PB by 35 minutes. With 10 of the athletes in front being pros I was the 3rd age grouper. The winning time was a hugely impressive 8.37, on what is a difficult course. It was pleasing to get up amongst the male pros, being an ageing amateur who is fond of a pie and a pint, and won't go out for a bike ride unless the route takes in a cafe!

Full results are on www.challengehenley.com, along with some race footage. It should be mentioned that this was a very professionally run event, in a lovely location, and is well worth a go, for anyone thinking of a ironman distance race a bit closer to home. The race team were a very a friendly bunch; aid stations were frequent and well-stocked. Too many pubs along the course, but they weren't too busy at 8am, as this was Henley-on-Thames, not Shields Road.

I hope the fact that me and Madders, a pair of forty-somethings who have been in this game for a few years, seem to be still getting faster, can inspire a few folks to believe that improvements are always possible, if you put in the effort. And you can still have cafe stops on the bike and get faster! Even after the highs of Helvellyn 2 weeks ago, there is still nothing in our sport that compares with the exhilaration from completing an ironman. Get your name down for next summer and begin the ironman adventure!