by Russ Cox

Experience has refined my race strategy. What began as a manual detailing every mile of the ironman has been honed to a focused list -- simple, memorable rules I can apply however low I feel midway through the marathon.A plan gives me confidence; a plan I can apply when I'm racing gets me through the day. Writing it has become a ritual -- I'm not ready to race until it's on paper.

Once complete I know where I'll start and how I'll draft the swim, what pace to hold on the bike and when to eat, how to ease into the run and when I'll raise my game. An hour spent visualizing the race calms my nerves. Racing is no longer an unknown, simply a case of sticking to a strategy.

The plan is the theory behind a successful race and with any good theory it must be based on solid evidence. Months of preparation enable me to judge the effort I can hold; targets are calculated from previous achievements, not drawn from imagination. I set my sights high within the bounds of my ability. My strategy will stretch me, but it won't break me.

Good theory is a start; it's how it is practiced that matters. Lifting the pace six miles from the finish sounds good, but in the marathon it may prove a different story. A lot can happen in over 10 hours; race day involves more variables than I can control, I need contingencies. I can't account for every eventuality, but in the heat of the race I want to make quick decisions. Ease up, go harder or stop.

Mistakes can happen in the first 10 minutes. A huge sprint effort to reach a better group at the start of Ironman Australia gave me my slowest wetsuit swim. A poor start trapped me behind slower swimmers and I wasted valuable energy pushing to bridge ahead. By the time I reached a faster group my arms had nothing left and I found myself moving back through the field.

My plan called for a start position nearer the front and a more controlled initial 400 yards. Failing to follow it left me with no choice but to ease up and regroup. The rest of the day was a game of catch-up I was never able to win.

Racing the half ironman on the same course a year earlier had provided another valuable lesson in obeying a strategy. Shortly into the bike I heard a click clearly in time with revolutions of my wheel. This wasn't a good sound, but unable to see the cause I kept going. The safety pin punctured the tub about five miles later bringing me to a halt. Stopping and fixing the problem earlier would have saved me from my first proper practice of changing a tub. It was not quick!

My second ironman took place in Busselton on the other side of Australia. Having experienced hitting the wall I approached the event with more caution. My runner's pride did not like the idea of walking, I knew I needed to hold more back to prevent that. I found a competitor who seemed perfectly paced and sat on his shoulder. It felt great, easy in fact, but I only appreciated how easy it had become when he broke into a walk!

My plan was to run the whole marathon, but not at the expense of time. Rather than focusing on my own race I'd allowed someone else to dictate my performance. With greater awareness I would have realized I needed to go harder.

Conditions and equipment can turn against us and it's easy to make errors of judgement under the pressure of racing. A good plan helps keep our race controlled, but when things go wrong it's important to have contingencies in place and be ready to make a quick decision. I plan for the best and worst that ironman can throw at me, chances are what happens will lie somewhere between the two.