How PT Pavel Completed An Ironman With No Experience and Minimal Training While Juggling Two Jobs

The Beginning of My Ironman Journey

I either failed or could prove that anyone could do it

I grew up as a fairly sporty kid, from breakdancing until I was 14 to starting my football career at 6 years old—or at least that’s what I remember. Unfortunately, I never had much experience with long-distance sports. I never ran a marathon; the farthest I ever went was 21k, and probably not more than three times in my entire life. But this was different. I had to tackle the good old 3.8k swim, 180k bike ride, and 42.5k run—all while juggling family life and two jobs.

The main problem I noticed was that whenever I talked to people who had prepared for these types of events, they seemed completely consumed by the preparation. So I came up with a plan: to prepare for the Ironman with a minimalist approach. If I failed, I’d only fail myself, but if I succeeded, I could show that anyone could do it.

Preparation for the Swim

Overcoming fears, finding support & getting inspired

The most important part of the journey started with the swim. Now, I don’t want to worry anyone signing up for their first Ironman, but the highest percentage of deaths in these events happens during the swim. But then again, you can be unlucky enough to get hit while crossing the street, so keep that in mind. These events have plenty of support to keep an eye on you, so there’s really nothing to worry about. But if you’re truly worried, then maybe this isn’t for you.

For me, swimming was a rough experience. In the summer of 2016, I got into night swimming in the open sea. One time, I got caught in a current that nearly took my life. Thankfully, my beautiful (and crazy) wife, Lulu, who had followed me into this not-so-sensible hobby, managed to save my life. I was fortunate in two ways: 1) she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and 2) she was crazy enough to swim with me that night.

Ever since then, I’ve had panic attacks when swimming in open water. I tried hard to work on my mindset to overcome it. I even signed up for a PADI diving course and earned my advanced badge. But still, during some swims, I’d freeze up, which isn’t ideal in open water. I had to find a way to overcome these panic attacks and stop living in fear. I gave myself 8 months, and my mindset was “do or die” (not literally, but you get it).

I started in the pool, and after 50 meters of swimming, I was exhausted and ready to go home. Week after week, I didn’t see much improvement, and I realised I needed to focus on my goal: to swim in open water and finish the race. The missing piece was a good trainer. I started asking swimming teachers why they did their job and what their goals were. To my surprise, most couldn’t swim more than 1k. But then, I met Vladimir, a huge, friendly Serbian giant. When I asked him how far he could swim, he said, “15, 20 kilometers—I don’t really know, man. For me, swimming is like walking. If I have to swim, I’ll swim.”

Then I asked if I could book 20 sessions with him. His reply? “Man, you don’t need 20 sessions. I’ll teach you how to swim in one hour.” I thought, what a dream. He was the answer I’d been looking for, but I wondered how he’d actually get me there. It wasn’t as easy as he promised, but his confidence inspired me, and that was exactly what I needed at the time.

After two hours of training with him, he said I was ready, though I didn’t feel like it. Despite huge progress, I was still battling with the water. Then, one day, an old fellow recommended a book called Swimming Made Easy by Terry Laughlin. Right after that pool session, I went home and bought a used copy on eBay for £2.50—the best £2 I ever spent. The book’s protocol was a game-changer, and I highly recommend it to anyone looking to improve their triathlon swimming.

Preparation for the Bike

Racking up every day miles and the (short lived) magic of carbon fiber

My experience with road cycling? None. But my confidence was sky-high, as if I’d done the Tour de France.

To be honest, I wasn’t there to win first place—I was there as a tourist, so there was no pressure for a particular time. I knew nothing about bikes and had to ask my friend and strength student, Philip. He immediately told me about the magic of carbon fiber bikes and how they’re the only way forward for humanity. What he forgot to mention was how expensive and difficult to maintain they are. But hey, you can earn money all your life, and there are only so many chances to become an Ironman, so I 'Ironmanned' up and spent all my Christmas savings from the age of 4 to get my dream bike.

After getting the bike (which I knew nothing about), I asked the guy at a nearby second-hand bike shop to assemble it for me. Surprisingly, he managed to get part of the seat wrong, and it broke after my first ride. Now, I had a broken bike, little time left before the competition, and still wasn’t feeling pressured. After all, I cycled 3k to work every day. In my head, I figured I cycled way more than 180k a month, so that part of my training was covered. In the end, I managed only two rides before the Ironman: one was 90k, and the other was a 3k trip from the shop to my house.

But on race day, the “White Swan” (my bike) didn’t disappoint. I had a great time, and I’ll forever be grateful to Philip for introducing me to the magic of carbon fiber.

Preparation for the Run

Do you need to run to be able to run?

Running? Well, you know how it goes—you need fancy shoes, and you have to know everything about running shoes, as if your life depends on it. But am I here to break the rules or follow them?

It would’ve been too easy to research the best pair and treat myself. Instead, I decided to stick with my old running shoes, which I’d been using for a year in the gym. They were perfectly broken in, and I didn’t want to let them go just yet.

42k? My training consisted of Brazilian jiu-jitsu and swinging kettlebells. Somehow, I thought that would give me the aerobic capacity I needed. If I failed, I’d just tell people I hated running like everyone else. If I succeeded, I’d tell them the secret: you don’t need to run to be able to run.

This Ironman plan might sound like a joke, but if I had to do it again, I’d probably follow the same approach.

Race Day

Enjoying the experience, fuelled by adrenaline

We had to line up according to our estimated swim times, with faster swimmers in front and slower ones in the back. I decided to stay with the slow group, giving myself more time to enjoy the inspirational music and speeches. I even heard the Braveheart speech—they did a great job with the organisation, and I’m glad my racing heart didn’t drown it out.

Now, if anyone suggests taking caffeine before an endurance event, don’t trust them. The day before, I promised myself that if the water was rough, I wouldn’t race. There had been some accidents in Cork, and the risk didn’t seem worth it. But when the moment came, despite the waves being so huge that you couldn’t see where you were going, I couldn’t turn back. I focused on the task at hand and, after what felt like 100 years, I finished the swim.

People usually run to the next transition, but I took my time, walking on the red carpet, smiling, and waving at my family who had supported my crazy idea. After the “victory walk,” I hopped on the White Swan but rewarded myself with chocolate first. Why not? I had to burn through so many calories that day, so what harm could 5 or 10 chocolates do? I was about to become untouchable—I was about to become an Ironman!

Despite not scouting the course beforehand, I had a fantastic ride. The stunning views, a few laps on an F1 track—it was all unforgettable.

By the time I hit the marathon, I was running on adrenaline. The people on the sidelines, cheering us on, were heroes in their own right. It’s way harder to watch someone swim, cycle, and run than to actually do it. And they had great songs playing, though I hope they weren’t illegally streamed—we keep it legal over here, baby.

In the end, I finished the run, but by the time I got to the food, everything was cold and overcooked. Imagine something cold and overcooked—how is that even possible? But I can’t blame anyone. If I had been a little faster, the food might have still been warm.

Recovery

My recovery plan didn’t go as expected. I thought I’d go surfing or do a light run, but I couldn’t even make it up a flight of stairs. Watching anyone move the next day was seriously impressive.

The Message

Believe in yourself, and surround yourself with people who believe in you, too. It costs nothing to be kind, and sometimes that kindness can mean everything to someone else.