Vitoria-Gasteiz, Spain was calling my name as I was pumped for my second full-distance Ironman! My training buddy Neil and I, along with some fellow Portsmouth Triathletes, were about to take on Ironman Vitoria-Gasteiz.
Neil picked me up from home and we hit the road to Gatwick. The whole travel shebang – car to airport, flight, airport to Bilbao bus, then another bus to Vitoria – went smoother than a freshly waxed dolphin. We landed at the hotel around 9 p.m., only to be met with a minor hiccup: we had accidentally booked two rooms instead of one. No biggie, though. We sorted it out and headed for a carb-loading feast at a nearby Italian restaurant.
The next day was a whirlwind of activity: bike assembly, race registration in the heart of Vitoria, a meetup with our fellow Portsmouth Triathletes Carla, Alex, Mike and Sian, a mandatory pilgrimage to the Ironman expo, and an early evening bike check on the charming streets of Vitoria. We capped off the day with a pizza party with the whole squad. As we strolled back to the hotel, full and happy, we took in the beautiful architecture of the old town.
The morning of the race briefing started with a group shakeout run before breakfast – gotta get those legs loose! After filling up on a hearty breakfast at a local cafe, featuring a mouthwatering Spanish tortilla and buttery croissants, it was time to pack our transition bags, double-check our gear, and make sure our nutrition was on point. We attended the mandatory race briefing, where I had the pleasure of meeting Paul Kaye, the man in charge of the whole shebang. Afterwards, we dropped off our T2 bags and hopped on a bus to the stunning Lake Landa (home of T1) to rack our bikes. A quick lunch by the lake, then back to Vitoria for one last pasta feast with Neil. The anticipation for race day was reaching fever pitch!
The swim was the discipline I dreaded most. I knew I hadn’t done enough training; my endurance was solid, but my speed was lacking. I positioned myself with the 1:10 group, aiming for a 1:50/100m pace. As always, Paul Kaye energy was infectious. He got us to clap in rhythm, starting slowly and speeding up, urging everyone to join in and get louder. Then, with a shout of “Are you ready?”, AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” blasted through the speakers, sending goosebumps all over me. I was ready!
I started with a smile, knowing this was the moment I’d been anticipating since signing up for the race in 2019. That decision, made in a pub with my Ironman friends after a few pints, had led to this day. It was time to execute all the training and sacrifices I’d made.
“Take it easy,” I told myself. “Stay on someone’s feet and just survive the swim. You’ll have fun on the bike and run.” But it wasn’t that easy. Everyone seemed much faster than me. I couldn’t draft off anyone for more than a few hundred meters. The first stretch towards the church felt endless. A left turn around the red buoy and another stretch, just trying to survive. After the second turn, I started to feel better, even faster. Not only could I stay on others’ feet, but I began overtaking my rivals. My only issue was that I couldn’t see the buoys, so I followed the crowd. This was a mistake. Near the end, a kayak marshal signaled that we were off course. Most swimmers ignored him, heading straight for the red turn buoy, but I wasn’t there to cheat or race against anyone. This was my personal challenge. I turned right to correct my course, likely adding about two minutes to my swim, but I didn’t care. With every stroke, the sound of T1 grew louder. Excitement built as I anticipated jumping on my bike and soaking in the beautiful Basque Country views.
In T1, I took my time, ensuring everything went according to plan without any mistakes. I methodically stripped off my wetsuit, put on my socks, shoes, number belt, and helmet, and stuffed gels into my pockets. After hanging my bag on the hook, I ran to collect my bike. It was no surprise Neil’s bike was already gone; I knew he would crush the swim🐬 As I sprinted down the transition, I spotted Sian waving the Portsmouth Tri flag, shouting my name and cheering me on to have a great ride. Mount line. Jump on. Ride off. Let’s gooooooo! 🚴🏻💨
So, this bike course was all “rolling hills” and whatnot, with over 1,000 meters of climbing. Naturally, I wondered if I could hold a solid 34 km/h. My heart rate goal was sub-150 bpm, and my power output was supposed to hover around 170-180W. Of course, I went out a bit too hot (who doesn’t?), but I knew my HR would chill once I settled in. Neil, helped me concoct this intricate nutrition plan: one gel every 22 minutes, chased with a swig of electrolytes. But, let’s be honest, I was guzzling that stuff way more often than that – gotta keep those muscles salty, right?🧂 My setup was two bottles: one on my aerobars (for easy access in aero-poser mode📸), and a backup behind my saddle. The plan was to refill the front bottle at each aid station, then grab a fresh one for the rear. Worked like a charm! The first lap was a breeze (not literally). No crazy heat or wind, just stunning views of mountains, gold fields, lush forests, and Lake Landa glistening in the distance. The course itself was a bit lumpy, forcing me to granny-gear it up a few bigger hills. By the end of the lap, I was cruising at an average of 34.2 km/h with a 152 bpm heart rate. Time to dial it back a notch and save some juice for the marathon. Lap two started with a minor hiccup: my front bottle cage decided to take a break. I spotted a mechanic tent and asked for some zip ties. While the guy was digging around, I had to open the bottle to reattach the cage, spilling electrolytes all over my front wheel. Oh well, at least it was sparkly clean for one lap. After a quick fix and a friendly push from the mechanic, I was back on my way. Then the sun decided to show off, and the temperature soared. I turned into a human sprinkler, grabbing water bottles at each aid station and dumping them on myself💦. My back was also staging a mutiny against the aero position, so I threw in some impromptu stretches. Oh, and did I mention I lost a full bottle? Yep, had to ration the leftovers in my front bottle until the next aid station. The gels were getting pretty gross by this point, but beggars can’t be choosers. Average speed dipped to 33.3 km/h, and my heart rate followed suit at 150 bpm. By the third lap, I was basically cooked. Overheated, lightheaded, and seeing mirages 🥵 (okay, maybe not mirages). The route became more desolate, with fewer supporters and fellow triathletes in sight. A dark cloud descended upon my mind, echoing the doubts and fatigue that were creeping in. I wrestled with the voice inside my head, the one whispering that this was all too much, that I should just ease up and coast to the finish. But a stubbornness deep within me refused to yield. I dug deep, reminding myself of the countless hours of training, the sacrifices made, and the unwavering support of those who believed in me. This was not the time to falter. And then, as if to test my resolve, a surprise awaited us – a challenging 10% wall, talk about a rude awakening! It actually made me chuckle. The wind kicked up a notch at the top, adding another layer of fun to the mix. Finally, I turned the corner towards the city, and things got exciting again. Crowds everywhere, cheering us on. I dismounted, tossed my bike to a volunteer (what a luxury!), and strutted down the red carpet like a pro. The T2 was in sight! Now just a marathon to run… Just?
T2 was a blur. I hopped off the bike and onto the run course, and holy moly, the noise! 😱 The cheers! 🎉 The overwhelming support from the crowds! 📢 It was absolute madness. 😃 Not a single empty spot by the barriers, hundreds of people screaming your name🗣️, high-fiving✋🏻, clapping👏🏻 – the whole shebang. How could I not get swept up in it? I danced, threw my hands in the air, thanked everyone for their amazing energy. Even spotted Sian, our lone hometown supporter, which was awesome. 😊 Sadly, the euphoria didn’t last. About 1km in, a sharp pain stabbed me in both sides under my ribs. It was so intense I couldn’t even breathe. These weren’t your average side stitches; flexing my abs did nothing to ease the agony. I had to stop and try to walk it off. Turns out, this was the beginning of my run-walk adventure. My plan had been to walk only through the aid stations, but with this stitch situation, there was a lot more walking happening. And to top it off, my stomach was on the verge of revolting against the gel overload🤢. I had to tread carefully with that one. A glimmer of hope came when I ran into Ewa Komander at the end of my first lap (her third). She was clearly in pain, not even cracking a smile. We had a good laugh commiserating about the whole “why are we doing this again?” and “never signing up for another Ironman” thing😩😅 It was comforting to know even the pros suffer. 😉 My second lap was basically a pit stop lap. My stomach was making all sorts of weird noises, so I decided to take a bathroom break. Peeling myself out of, and then back into, my wet tri-suit felt like escaping a freaking labyrinth. From that point on, gels were off the menu – good old Coke became my savior.🥤 By the end of that lap, I saw some familiar faces heading out onto the run course, which gave me a much-needed boost. I caught up with Carla and Alex right after passing Plaza de España near the finish line. It was awesome having my tri family by my side. We chatted about the bike leg, our struggles, and of course, unanimously agreed to never do another stupid Ironman again 😅🤣 We ran together for half a lap, but they needed a break, and I was feeling surprisingly good, so I continued solo. The stitches had eased up a bit, so breathing was almost back to normal. I still walked through aid stations but then went straight back to running. As I started my fourth and final lap, pure joy washed over me. I started engaging with the crowds again, jumping, dancing, running backwards – just for the fun of it. The dark moments were behind me. My only thought now was, “Don’t cry at the finish line.” (I get a bit emotional after a tough day). The kilometres flew by. I passed all the age groupers who had overtaken me earlier in the run. Nothing could stop me now. In the distance, I spotted Mike, another Portsmouth Triathlete, and shouted some words of encouragement. I was so close… The excitement reached a fever pitch as I entered the city centre. I was flying! I pulled my race number out of my pocket (where I’d stashed it for safekeeping) and with it in hand, I stepped onto the famous red Ironman carpet. Arms raised, a triumphant yell, a huge grin on my face, I crossed the line and heard those magic words from Paul Kaye: “Piotr, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!”❤️🔥
Spain conquered! 🇪🇸🏅💪🏻 But not alone.
To those who raced alongside me in Spain, your presence on the course was inspiring. We shared the same gruelling challenge, the same burning sun, and the same exhilarating sense of accomplishment. Thank you for pushing yourselves, for pushing me, and for reminding me that we’re all in this together. And all my incredible friends and family who came to cheer on me in Spain, those in Poland and the UK, your love and support carried me across the miles. Thank you for cheering me on from afar and near, for understanding the long afternoons and evenings dedicated to training, and for always being there to celebrate the victories, big and small. To those who trained alongside me, thank you for the shared miles, the early mornings, the motivation, and the camaraderie. You made the journey to the starting line just as rewarding as crossing the finish line. This IRONMAN was a testament to the power of community, both near and far. Your unwavering support made this victory possible. This one’s for you. ❤️
Vitoria-Gasteiz, you stole my heart!
This city isn’t just a beautiful backdrop for an IRONMAN, it’s a place filled with incredible energy and the most supportive people. The streets were alive with the sound of cheering and those iconic Basque whistles. Your enthusiasm fueled my fire and pushed me to keep going when the going got tough. From the medieval charm of the old town to the modern vibe of the new, this city is a true gem. And the Basque people? Their warmth and generosity made me feel like I was racing at home.
Eskerrik asko, Vitoria-Gasteiz! Thank you for an unforgettable IRONMAN experience. I can’t wait to return.
English (UK) 
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