So here it is, the Roth Report; break out the family selection pack of biscuits and the tea urn, because no way is this going to be quick. I intend to use it to go back, peer into my performance and cement some of those memories firmly in my mind.
Things you may want to refer to:
The bike leg
The run leg
Onwards.
Thursday - T-3
The journey was from a cold damp Scotland to a hot and humid Germany. One flight and several train legs and I was chowing down on my first meal in Germany. Lack of air-con in the rooms meant they were uncomfortably hot, but that didn't stop me crashing out straight away on the first night, sleeping pretty much straight through. Shame the same thing couldn't be said for the next two nights...
Friday - T-2
The day started building up bikes, then we headed out to register in Roth. Thankfully there was only a tiny queue at the registration tent, so we were in and out faster than a trombone player in an Orange County ska punk band. Then we soaked in some of the atmosphere round the expo, bought some bits & pieces and had lunch, before heading out to just north of Hipoltstein for a short cycle and swim in Rothsee. There were a few issues with my gears, which were resolved back at the hotel (thanks again Hannah!), but apart from that the bike felt fine. The water in Rothsee was also lovely to slip into after being out in the heat - a very pleasant temperature indeed, and fun to splash around in. Then it was dinner and bed, for a restless nights sleep in a room that refused to cool down.
Saturday - T-1
The nerves were ratcheting up now - little doubts that were in my head from the past few weeks had fed on the adrenaline and were turning into monsters, but monsters that I was able to keep under control. We packed our run bags and bikes into the car, with me triple and quadruple checking that I had everything in the bag - thankfully I'd read the race rules in the pack the night before and clocked that mp3 players were allowed on the run course so that was in too (though it did mean that I was without music that night). Then it was off to T1 to rack the bikes, hand in the running bags and get a sense of the layout of it all, before heading back into Roth for the briefing and dinner in a lovely old style pub. Thankfully no bombs were dropped at the briefing like there was at Austria (water was too hot so wetsuits were banned) so nothing to worry about.
Back in the hotel, I checked my Bike and Recovery bags again, then settled down to sleep, which came quite quickly. But then I woke up again, my mind working in overdrive, and I couldn't settle. My mp3 player was in the run bag in the back of a lorry somewhere and I couldn't switch on a light to read as I was sharing a room, so I lay there for hours, the doubts gnawing away inside me waking me up further. The longer I was awake, the tireder I felt and the more anxious I became about not getting enough sleep, the less able I was to get to sleep - your classic negative feedback loop, eh? About half 11 I crawled underneath the covers so that I could play cards on my phone without the light waking Mark in the other bed, and about quarter past midnight I put the phone down and passed out.
Sunday - Race Day
At around 4:30am I woke, bolt upright. Time to get ready.
Swift shower, into tri kit, shorts and top over it, bleary eyed, early, sandwich, fill bottles, check bags again, chip back on leg, check bags, stumble to car, in car, nervous now, how long?, on road, traffic OK, traffic not OK, traffic moving, police directing, into car park, its a field, still too early, walk to transition, check bike, layout kit, place bike kit bag at swim exit, check bike again, toilet, wander in shock, see Hannah and Jo heading to swim start, wish them luck, check bike again, queue for toilet, wander in daze, meet Alan, start to calm down. We sat about, chilled out & blethered, which allowed me to relax and soak in a bit more of the atmosphere. There were more nervous toilet trips, then it was approaching Alan's start wave, so we got suited up and I headed down with him to hand in my bag and wait nearer the start line.
Frustratingly, due to my slow predicted finish time I was in the last group to go, an hour after the girls had set off, but through all the tunes and cannon fire announcing each wave, I was moving into the starting pen. We gathered on the bank of the canal as wave 12 was started, then it was our time in the water. We walked out and down a set of steps into the mild water. I got my head under at the first chance, and started a gentle warm up swim towards the start line - a rope held from the band to a boat in the middle of the canal, with a dingy half way along. A gentle crawl and breaststroke up felt like everything was working fine. I got to about a meter behind the dingy and had a look behind me - there was still quite a few people swimming up, but the majority seemed content to line up standing almost on the shore, waist deep in water. Which was fine for me, as it meant there were very few people around me.
The call came. The rope was raised and then....
Sunday - The Swim
BANG! The cannon blast cracked through the air, signalling the start of my race. Near the front of the wave, there was plenty of clear water in front of me, so I quickly settled into a steady rhythm; stroke, stroke, breath on third, regular sighting, keeping the shore a steady distance away. Out where I was I didn't really get involved with any barging, bar the occasional dunt. I know some people swam past me, but I think it was less than 'd expected. At one point I had someone trying to get past that kept banging into me, then when he had passed slowed a little so I was straight back almost getting kicked by him. I attempted to latch onto his feet, but given that he was swimming about as erratically as I do normally, it wasn't long before I gave up that idea.
I made steady progress up the canal over the first 1440m stretch, but I was very pleased to reach the turn point. I paused briefly to rinse my goggles of the steam that was obscuring my vision, then the 1900m stretch awaited.
All the way down I would tick off how far I'd swam, comparing it to loops in Loch Lomond (must be 2 and a half down, just 2 more to go and the wee stretch home Colm), felling fairly steady, my crawl working well and using breaststroke to gather myself, get a bit of breath back if needed and properly sight and set myself up. It wasn't that long before I was in amongst the slower swimmers from the wave before, and then I started spotting swimmers from 2 waves in front of me. That's me taken 10 minutes off of you beyatches. Yeah! The long stretch was surprisingly easy and it felt like there was a gentle canal current tugging me along, so the second turn rapidly approached and I was round the buoy and heading for the exit. Helpers were on hand to get us out of the water and then I was out and heading for my bag, grabbing it then into the transition tent.
The liberal amounts of body glide I had applied resulted in a swift removal of the wetsuit, the HRM strap was fitted and Garmin strapped to the wrist, then suncream was applied (shame I missed a few spots....) and I was out of the tent and heading round to the bike.
Sunday - The Bike
I'd opted to leave my shoes, socks, gloves, sunglasses and race belt at the bike, which meant that I was out of the crowd in the tent quicker. I still faffed a little, but it was nice to be out in the open doing this. Clip, clip, slide, roll on, slip on, shik, shik, clunk clickety-click, roll on, slip on, shik, shik, clunk clickety-click, shik, shik, job done, sip of water, lift bike from rack and out to the mount line. With no desire to stack it in front of the crowds, I opted for the safer option of the static mount with shoes on feet, and then I was moving past the crowds and turning out onto the main road and straight into the wee climb over the bridge. Yeah, just what my legs needed then. Honest.
After the bridge over the canal, it was onto a fast section round to Eckersmuhlen and the first trip through the beer mile, then came the left turn away from Roth for the first time.
I started out what I thought was fairly steady, not pushing it too hard and letting the rubbish swimmers pass me without trying to catch them back up in a fit of ego, but it was surprising just how quick I got lapped by the leaders, who had set off an hour 15 before me, but still, SHOOOOM they went past, with the a camera trained on the leader. Having the elites and the sub 9'ers go past me wasn't too bad, but the constant stream of 'rubbish swimmers' was a bit disheartening, I'll be honest, and then all the relay riders started coming through.
The sheer length of time on the bike makes it hard for me to put all the events of the day into proper chronological order, so some things now may be jumbled up, but then hey, you're not going to know are you! And if the narrative gets a bit broken up here, well, that's also how it felt at times for me.
Heading south on the first lap, there was a reasonably strong wind (my Dad was talking to a relay cyclist later on in the day who reckoned that it was the worst wind he'd ever had on this course, so wasn't surprised by his slower than normal time) which really took its toll on me early on in the bike leg. Couldn't get hidden from it & just felt like I was getting buffeted about a lot, but it wasn't as bad as the Glasgow to Edinburgh sportive in 2011, so it couldn't've been too bad. Still, every incline was a drag and the zip I had a few months ago on hills was gone (though this may have been something to do with my bike fit, as I'd had to readjust after learning to climb in a poor posture, or the reduced cycling to ), but there was nothing to do but slog on. It kinda felt like I was into the wind until I turned at Greding, but I didn't have long to savour the new sensation as I was quickly into the largest climb of the day.
Comparatively this has little on the steeper climbs I've done, such as Glen Fruin & the Tak, but given the lack of zip in my legs, it was a slog, though one that was made easier by the crowds along the road cheering us all on. Once I was past the crowds though, the climb just keeps on going, though at least at a shallower angle. Lets be honest, its not as steep as the Crow going north, so I was happy to keep spinning away comfortably.
The descent was fabulous fun though :)
In amongst the trees heading back to Hipoltstein a relay rider can swooshing past me on his carbon TT bike. His tool bottle somehow popped out of the cage, thankfully rolling away from my path, rather than towards me. Whether the change in weight disrupted him or it was to do with him turning to look I just don't know, but he started to wobble viciously at the foot of a short incline and his back wheel kicked out to the left, rolling him and his bike. He smashed down onto his left arm / wrist and I saw him clutching that arm as he came round to face me before continuing over to plant face first into the tarmac. There was plenty of room for me to get past his prone body, still clutching his wrist, but with a blood from the bridge of his knows and eyes shut in a way that looked unconscious. Rattled and unsure of what to do I carried on up the short ramp. There was a marshall not far after, but again, I was paralysed by indecision - what should I say, since I have no German? But thankfully the next guy behind me started shouting for help in German, so I carried on, knowing that he was going to get the medical attention he needed.
For 20 or 30 km it got uncomfortable sitting and I doubted the decision to wear my tri shorts rather than cycling shorts, but my body got used to it & the shorts became comfortable again.
Coming through Hipoltsein I was feeling a bit gallus, so powered up a couple of short climbs out of the saddle, catching Hannah's mum & sister unprepared as I shot past. and the Solar climb.
The streets are lined with barriers, with thousands gathered behind them and then when the incline kicks up further, the barriers end and you are in amongst the crowds like a tour rider up a col. Its an emotional experience, the cheering all round, clapping, smiling faces, clicking of rattles, banging of those inflatable sticks, people reaching down in front of you going wooooOOAAAH and lifting their hands up as you reach them, telling you to go faster. I admit, half way up I was actually beginning to get irritated - I wanted them out of my way to let me do my race, as to speed up for them would have resulted in me gassing out at the top for a while. Again, nothing to do but push on through.
Eating gels or cliff bars fairly regularly (every 20 minutes) and sipping away on water, I felt I was getting the nutrition OK at the start, but I took to chewing the cliff bars in bits over the course of an hour, which knocked me off my gel pattern, but throughout the first lap, I felt pretty good and at the end of the first lap I was still to feel any pain from the right knee and I reckoned I'd averaged about 25km/hr and while I would like to have been faster I was happy enough that it was all feeling steady and with in me, so I turned left after the beer mile with only a little regret that I wasn't going to get to head to T2 this time round.
While the wind had died on the first stretch, I could feel that my average speed was slowly slipping away and the strength in my legs began to leech out. Back round to the Greding climb for the second time there was a far smaller crowd to witness me toiling up. The grind to the top was excruciating and seemingly endless, the cruel false summits offering hope then dashing it away. Towards the top I started a bit of back and forth with a few other toiling riders, including some words of mutual encouragement with a Canadian (who I was disappointed to see never started the run, feel for you bro).
By now my heart rate was dropping out, my legs felt like puddin' sacks and my heart was going from the race. I was feeling a little faint, my stomach feelt squiffy and I broke out in some cold sweats. I doubted my ability to finish the bike section let alone the race. I questioned myself at entering in the first place, cursing myself as I should've known I would never be able to manage something like this, so what the **** was I doing entering it in the first place?
From the depths of despair, some words of wisdom came back to me - from Jo E I think - "You
will feel bad at times, just keep going" and I thought about everyone tracking me back home and Team Roth & Support Crew out their waiting for me and I knew, that no matter what, even if I couldn't make the cut off time, it wasn't going to be for not giving it my best effort.
I. Would. Not. Submit.
Into the next aid station I switched tack, and took an energy drink - often I find them clawing, sticky and unplatable, particularly deep into a ride, but today it went down well and I perked up a little. It was still a battle, but I was back in this thing.
The Solar climb came with far smaller crowds, giving me the space to get up without that claustrophobic feeling of last time, out and round, back past T1 for the last time, into the beer mile and to the split, where I got to go straight on this time towards T2. Yes!
The last stretch dragged on far longer than it should've, the road closed to motor vehicles but not the multitude of cyclists on mountain bikes and hybrides taking advantage of the quiet. Seriously, get out of my way people, there's a race still on.
Finally, blessedly, the beautiful flags fluttered their welcome to me, drawing me into T2. Not even contemplating a running dismount, I stopped at the line, unclipped, handed over my bike and walked towards the changing tent. As I was handed my run bag, I noted that there were still a significant number of blue bags lying out there - I hope that none of them were in the same position as the relay rider I saw wipe out. Stop the Garmin, I'm in the tent.
Sunday - The Run
I was in the tent, but I was almost incoherent. Thankfully the woman helping me didn't know much English or she might've kept me there and got a medic round. I took my time, getting the shoes and socks changed, bagging the no longer needed bike kit, taking a few minutes to consider what I needed, pocketing the Kendal Mint cake, untangling the headphones and getting some more suncream applied. Then it was back on the feet, cap pulled onto head and earphones slipped in.
For the last 20 kilometres of the bike, I had a mantra of "just finish the bike, if that's all you can do, its OK, if you miss the cut off, that's OK", but now I had 42km in front of me to navigate and I was kinda back at the beginning of it all. I walked out of the tent, selecting an hour long trance mix and round to the aid table where I grabbed some water and a handful of watermelon. My legs felt fine, but my stomach was having none of it, so I walked on, nibbling on the melon, hoping to settle the stomach, but getting nervous about the cut off times on the run already looming before me. Walking up through the woods to the 2km aid station my stomach was still showing no signs of settling, so I cracked open the Kendal Mint cake in the hope that the peppermint would sooth it. Into the 4km station I had some more KMC, along with more melon, water and some flat cola. Coming out I started to run, and to my pleasant surprise my legs responded and my stomach didn't rebel. Mark ran past going the other way which helped calm me, as I knew he'd pass on to the others when he saw them that I was still alive and out on the run course.
Given that I had almost given this race for over a couple of hours ago, when I felt that even if I made it off the bike I wasn't going to be able to do much on the run, I was amazed how well my legs responded. I picked up the pace, running along to the tempo of the trance mix, and amazingly held it. Just another 38 odd kilometres to go and I could actually finish this inside the time!
North along the canal I ran, walking through every aid station to bring on fuel; water, cola, little bits of melon, salted crackers and a few nuts and raisins when available. I continued to nibble away on the KMC in between and soaked myself with water from the sponges at every opportunity. I passed Alan heading south, looking sore but fighting on.
Through the next timing check I had a little chuckle to myself, thinking how people back home watching might be getting worried then surprised at the faster pace I'd pulled out of the bag after the shockingly slow run start!
Throughout the leg North of Roth, all I thought about was getting back to the crossover point before the cut-off point, so I managed to maintain a fairly steady pace throughout, walking through aid stations and up hills. The only people that went past me were in relay teams, whereas I was slowly picking off numerous runners, including many that looked busted and broken and just looking for someone to tell them they couldn't carry on. I made it back to the crossover and carried on south, still feeling comfortable, still running well, focusing on form to distract my mind from everything else going on. 21km beckoned and I was into the second half of the run!
Heading along the canal, I had a little back and forth with a German. He would walk for a while, then run hard past me. After we'd gone past each a few times, he said something along the lines of "I think we'll see each other a few more times". I agreed with this, but not long after I went past him & didn't see him pass me again. Staying steady wins.
Off the canal it was a run down through the woods to Eckersmuhlen, and my run / walk through aid stations & up hills only started to turn to a run / walk strategy. On the bridge over the canal a big german skinhead was standing, cheering me on "Yeah, come on, you can do it, still smiling, still running" and offered up a high five as I came past. *smack* nice one big man, good time for strong support with the dwindling crowds. It wasn't far to the turn, and he was still there, cheering on the other stragglers with another high five for me.
Walking back up through the woods, he caught me up on the bike and we chatted for a while, as he told me about the four times he had completed Roth. Offering some more words of encouragement, he headed off, saying "I know you can do it - I'll see you at the finish line".
Back onto the canal path the aid stations were packing up, the contents reduced to just a few trays. This spurred me on, and while the run/walk strategy was in effect, due in part to the mega tight and painful quads I now had, I didn't allow myself to ease up too much as I now felt I was fighting to get back for the last cut off point. Not letting up, I ran past a few minibuses (pleasedon'ttellmetostoppleasedon'ttellmetostop) up to the intersection and west towards Roth. Yes I was through that cut off point!
I reached the turn into the woods, and a marshal stopped me. What? This close? No, please don't tell me I can't reach it in time... But it was all good - he was just giving me a head torch so that I could see where I was going in the dark. Run, walk, run, walk, through the woods. I passed a girl hands on knees ready to vomit with two support cyclists encouraging her to keep moving for the last few kilometres. The big German came past on his bike with a bunch of marshals, cheering me on, then the trees thinned out, I could hear the announced cheering finishers across the line & I was into Roth properly; 4km to go!!!!
Through the town I ran, with one wee volunteer kid running alongside me barefoot for half a kilometre, clapping and cheering me on. On I walked/ran through the square past the mostly empty tables, doing my best to ignore what felt like a blister forming on the ball of my right foot (it wasn't, rather the insole had bunched up underneath due to being sodden from all the water from sponges to try and keep me cool). run/walk on, 41km mark, its there, this is really going to happen, so close, just a little longer, competitors going past with their bikes fresh out of T2 cheering me on, now wheres the turn into the park, must be soon, yes, there it is, there's the finishing chute!
Sunday - The Finish
This was it, the end that I'd worked my arse off to reach, the place I doubted I'd reach several hours ago when I was toiling on the bike. The red carpet spread out in front of me, down through the barriers, my way illuminated by strings of bulbs, guiding me through the night. There were still supporters lining the barriers at this late point, cheering the final few home. Bless you all.
I had been planning on a big victory V on the finish line for my photo pose, but as I ran into the grandstand area I raised my hand in victory salute to all the spectators cheering me home. Works can't do justice to the feeling of stepping out in front of that crowd; the lights, the cheering, the dark sky overhead, it still blows me away thinking about it. Right arm held high all the way round, my mind was awash with awe, excitement, relief and pride in myself, for the work that I'd put in and the effort on the day. In a blur, the finish line was there and I crossed it.
YYEESS!!!!!!
I was given my medal by James Cunnama (I think), the winner of the men's race, and behind him was my new German best friend, arms open to crush me into a congratulatory bear hug. Of all the support on the course from the thousands of spectators and the army of volunteers, his words of encouragement were at a time when I could have started becoming quite disheartened, with the number of people around me dwindling and the cut-off time looming. My thanks go out to you; may triathlon karma find its way back to you.
The Thanks
Massive thanks go out to everyone who has supported me over the last year, you are all brilliant, to the supporters on the day on the course, the cheers mean everything, to my folks, thank you so much for being their, for Team Roth Support, I can't thank you enough for the help on the run up to the race and looking out for me, and finally GTC Team Roth, you guys a legends, though nextyear, lets do something shorter like the relay championships, eh?
The Physical Cost
Surprisingly low it would appear. At the end I was exhausted, my quads were a mess of tight knots, I had a few choice blisters and busted toenails along with some patches of brutal sunburn. A few days later I'm still feeling drained, my toenails still hurt and the sunburn is still fierce, but I can walk down stairs relatively easily and I know all the rest just needs a little bit of time. After Lisboa a year ago, I was in a significantly worse state with my legs, so clearly my body has adapted reasonably with the training I've put it though
Things That I Need To Work On
I need to learn a lot more about basic bike mechanics, how to sort gears and the like.
I need to get much stronger on the bike, which means more time in the saddle and riding with people that will continue to push me hard.
I need to improve my nutrition on long course
What the Future Holds
You here of people finishing a race like that and saying "Never again". After Lisbo 70.3, I figured I'd mibbies do another 70.3, but never any further. And after this? I would totally do another one. But, before I would sign up to one, I will have to improve my bike massively.
Alongside that though, next year I want to get faster over shorter distances, so I'll be looking to do Sprints and Standard distance tris, with maybe a middle distance in their too. Last year I started bringing my 10km time down with an eventual target of doing sub 40 minutes; now that I'm not doing the long distance stuff that will come back onto the table.
Beyond that though, I have a yearning that has been growing inside the last year to do a lot more off road running, including ultras. Finally completing a marathon has done nothing to dampen this.
Final Words
When I think back on where I was physically two years ago, and where I am now, I have to pinch myself to make sure I'm awake. To me, the transformation has been nothing short of phenomenal. For those that have known me the longest, well, let me know what you really think! In a world of motivation speakers and self help gurus, I like to think that I am one of the many examples round the world that with a bit of effort, dedication and enthusiasm, you can do so much more than you think you can. Open your eyes wide, find your goal and go forth and take it!
