Every Ironman story has its own flavour – this one just happened to taste like carbon dust, seawater, and pure determination. Martin Shaw’s Ironman Barcelona race report is a reminder of what make TTTC special: resilience, humour, great support, and the ability to laugh even when the bike cockpit collapses mid-ride.
Here’s Martin’s brilliantly honest race report which takes us through the ups, downs, and ridiculous moments that led to an unforgettable Ironman Barcelona finish.
Spoiler: it all works out……eventually.
The plan was simple…….
Pick a race sufficiently far off the back of the summer season that I stood half a chance of balancing the peak training block with work, and see what happens .
As soon as Barcelona fell in the bracket, there was a constant and consistent line of questioning: Flat course that; are you doing it on a TT? And so the scene was set for the longest bike saga in history. Scouring eBay, picking up a hooky bike in Manchester and hopping on it for the first time just before Outlaw 70.3 in June. Ride one was a disaster and so an urgent bike fit with 3 days to Outlaw was organised ( https://ryanmorleycyclecentre.co.uk/) Ryan’s eyebrows did a very telling dance when I told him the first check of fit would be 56 miles in Nottingham. It didn’t go great.
Maybe it’s the wrong bike for me.
The bike then went on the turbo. A different beast to my garage roadie, hitting any of the FTP based numbers was a consistent battle resulting in aches various, disappointment and frustration.
Maybe it’s the wrong bike for me.
Balancing training for IM with my other semi-foolish idea of swimming Windermere ( https://chillswim.com/chillswim-windermere-end-to-end/ ) meant that some long rides were sacrificed for swims, so it felt like a while before any big outside distances were done on it. Potholes caused the cockpit to collapse forward perilously. Punctures in tubes where I’d become so used to tubeless. Carbon brakes on aluminium training wheels that refused to bring the setup to a halt. Maybe one final bike fit adjustment.
Maybe it’s just not the bike for me.
Packing for triathlon is now a fairly well practiced affair, and apart from work trying to shift my body clock into night-owl mode days before the race, all went smoothly. Until packing the bloody bike. It had come with sexy race day carbon wheels and a disc on the back. Ooooh fancy! But the bike box wasn’t designed for that. Plus I couldn’t seem to get a pump to fit on the valve due to the disc wheel being such an obstruction. Seriously. Maybe I should just put the road bike in. This isn’t the bike for me. But I haven’t done any training on the other one now. So that would be stupid. So roll with it and hope there’s someone in calella who can get it working. Damn bike.
After annoying half of Barcelona by lugging bike boxes and suitcases on the public transport, we made it to the hotel. Built in the late 60’s from papermache it was well located but chances of getting a good nights sleep before the race were slim. Still, hard to sleep when you’re worrying about the bike.
The atmosphere in the town was electric. Calella isn’t huge and this wasn’t a side show. Everyone was up for IM week. And so were the bike shops! With registration done, the local bike shop played a blinder. Finally I had a bike that stopped, started and the tyres didn’t keep going down. Once I stopped worrying about the bike, suddenly I felt good.
Then the additional support appeared. Big DT (just get it done chief 👊🏻) and then out of nowhere Donna and Jon!! Blown away would be an understatement!! I was amazed. Definitely had to perform now with this crowd watching on. The club athletes have smashed full distance triathlons all over Europe this season and I’d be lying if there wasn’t a bit of nervousness in living up to the bar that everyone else had set. The weather was changing for race day and there was plenty of uncertainty, but you can only control what you can control, right?
Practice dips were great and the number of people we bumped into at the beach was amazing… as well as meeting up with other TTTC racers (Nick Leigh and John Kenwright) there were other randoms connected to the Wirral triathlon mafia, all of whom knew Jon – obviously! Then time for a final bike shake down. OMG, this thing sings! Maybe this is the bike. I wrote my pace notes and stuck them on the bars (as per) 6H30 the main target, but if things go well, timings for 6H too, just in case.
A flag march around town and festivities in the square all added to the pre race atmosphere. Then out of nowhere, race day.
Waking up led to the first surprise- everything was dry! Where was the forecast rain? We’ll take it!
Dropping off of nutrition and bike computer all went smoothly and soon it was time for a quick dip and a look at the sea. Definitely not flat calm like the previous days had teased us with, but not too off putting. Just about wetsuit legal (phew) so off to the pens.
SWIM
The atmosphere was amazing. With 50% of the field competing in their first IM there were lots of nervous faces but the MC was on form and soon everyone was pumped 💪🏻… AC/DC Blared and then we were off! The start tunnel had a fab surprise, as the banners which had been in the registration village collecting messages of support from friends and family were hung on the inside. A final boost of inspiration before jogging into the swell.
The swim passed relatively quickly although sighting at times wasn’t easy and there was the odd stray swimmer shooting across at a tangent I felt pretty good as we made it to the home straight. Not all had found it so approachable with a few getting seasick and even bailing out after the swim portion. For me though, a slight wrestle with the wetsuit and I was into T1 and out onto the bike.
BIKE
Support was loud through the town and the tall buildings echoed the sound back at you it was infectious and I was shifting already. Trying to calm down and settle in was an effort and it was easy to get carried away, but I felt good and allowed myself to let the heart rate drift down slowly and keep a bit of power on.
The wind was all over the place and due to the passing showers (which seemed to keep missing us) definitely not the normal prevailing winds but somehow never felt too bad. And the pace just sat there. I couldn’t quite believe it. The EAT! and DRINK! alarms kept popping up and it was hard to believe that each 15 minute block was coming past so quickly.
Apart from a couple of slightly overconfident attempts at roundabouts which nearly ended up being a bit spicy the bike just went really well. Seeing the gang on the fast descent past the lighthouse was a blast. And almost as quickly the second lap was over!
RUN
No dramas in T2 and off on the run. Lap 1 was totally on plan, comfortable running and walking the aid stations kept everything under control. Support on the run course was great and a new run course for 2025 meant much more time was spent running through town and past bars where the support became increasingly vocal as the afternoon wore on. The TTTC crowd were no exception!
By lap 2 they had managed to get a large Irish contingent on board as well as the nearest DJ! Cool beachside tunes were cast aside for cheesy pop, dancing and general shenanigans. Hilarious. Until lap3 ; despite their best efforts, 2 warm laps had taken their toll. The beginnings of cramp and general fatigue just weren’t going to be shifted with a blast of the Macarena and it felt a bit crap to be the one who put a dampener on things.
Suddenly Mr Motivator was alongside, jogging bare foot and giving me the riot act. It was what I needed. Lap 3 got done.
The human brain is a mad thing and despite the struggles, with 2 miles to go I knew it was nearly done and things perked right up! The finish chute was buzzing and the clock was showing a time I had never believed possible. I couldn’t pick out the team in the heaving grandstands, but I knew they were there and suddenly the finish line was done and medal on neck.
An absolute blast.
With the best of people.
And I’m pretty sure it was the right bike after all.
