Challenge Roth 2013

Ever since I entered Challenge Roth a year ago, I had high hopes of posting a pb, if not a sub 13 hour time at my third iron-distance race.  Roth is a notoriously fast course, harbouring the quickest ever male and female times over this distance so with two years of iron racing experience under my race belt, I quietly hoped to finish with a 12h something time against my name.

Although I’d been putting in the hours since the beginning of the year, it felt like ‘proper’, more specific training was slow to start due to the never-ending winter we had here in the UK. I endured countless rides in the bitter cold and wind, which certainly toughened me up (did I need toughening up after Ironman Wales?!) but mentally I didn’t feel I was sharpening up for Roth. 

I’d put the running miles in early on in the year, getting a new half marathon pb in February at the Brighton half followed by good races at the Ballbuster Duathlon and Rhayader 20.  The end of March saw respite from the bitter cold with a week’s training in Mallorca where I put in a 20+ hours of mainly riding, before my gear shifter broke, meaning a relaxing last day lying in the sun.

Having conquered Sa Calobra

After recovery week before my final 3 week block of ‘peak’ training, I started to feel not quite right. I was racing Bala Middle that week and I was feeling tired and not at all rested, despite light training a week prior.  The day before Bala, I was wondering whether I should pull out given I was feeling lethargic and had a funny tummy.  I woke up on race day feeling ok though, raced and had a great day.  I even had a brilliant run, despite the course being one big hill!

Having a great run at Bala

I felt ok the week after but a new problem arose.  My left calf started to ache on a club run.  I stretched and massaged it vigorously for 3 days.  On the Sunday I had a two and a half hour run scheduled so I tentatively set out, wearing calf guards as a precaution.  I felt great and was having one of those runs where you feel you could run forever.  Ninety minutes in, my calf began to tighten and eventually sharp shooting pains up my calf stopped me in my tracks and I had to do a 2 mile ‘walk of shame’ home, doubting whether Roth would now happen at all!

The next few days was spent manically RICE-ing the calf.  I’d taken 3 days holiday off work so that I could really up the training hours so I was very pissed off that my body seemed to be falling apart!  The ‘not quite right’ feeling returned that week too, but I somehow managed to clock up 22 quite successful hours of training.  After 4 days of no running (except for a jog up and down the road to test the calf) my long run went ok.

During the taper weeks, I felt as if I’d done enough.  I was confident I could cover the distance but I was anxious about how I was feeling.  Tuesday of race week, I started feeling really tired, almost fluey.  I think the anxiety itself was making me feel worse.

Dan and I set off in the van for Roth on the Wednesday evening.  After a sleepover on Dover Dock and 8 hours of shared driving through Belgium and half of Germany, we arrived at Rothsee, a beautiful lake a few miles outside Roth.  Campsites and hotels had booked up months ago so our only option was to camp at the lake, along with hundreds of others from all over Europe.  Since it wasn’t a campsite, there wasn’t a shower block, just a toilet block, a cafe and a lovely lake to swim (and wash) in.

Racking

Friday and Saturday was spent registering, preparing nutrition, racking and enjoying the atmosphere. It all lived up to the hype the race was famous for. I was really looking forward to the race, especially experiencing the Solarerberg climb, but I still had this nagging doubt in my mind that I wasn’t 100%. 

Race morning.  There was no need for an alarm.  I hadn’t slept a wink, exactly like last year.  I hadn’t been nervous about this race and didn’t expect not to sleep at all, but I just didn’t settle all night.  I forced down a large bowl of muesli, determined to get the calories in me.  The coffee felt good in the chilly morning but I felt queasy. 

We had the luxury of staying a mere 400 metres or so from the race start so fed, watered and still weary, we walked over to T1.  Dan’s bike was stationed far away from mine so after checking that my tyres weren’t flat (a lesson learnt from Copenhagen 2 years ago!) we said our goodbyes and good lucks, knowing I’d see him overtake me somewhere on the course later on in the day (his start wave was 50 minutes after mine). 

Wanting some company to share my pre race anxiety with, I spotted a girl from Hillingdon Tri and we chatted and walked to the start together.  After a bit of confusion about where the start actually was, we somehow managed to get to the water as the announcer declared “one minute to go!”.  Panic! I could see that a lot of girls had already made the 50m or so swim up to the start line so I got in and my warm up consisted of ‘get the hell as close as possible to the start!’.  I was still probably around 20 metres away when the hooter sounded, so this wasn’t a good start.  I started my watch and started to swim.  Despite it not being too crowded and there being no wind of note, I immediately noticed how choppy the water was and that my goggles had already steamed up.  About 200 metres in I got a face full of water as I turned to beathe, which really panicked me, so I breastroked to compose myself and tried to clear my goggles.  

Washing machine

I swam and swam, trying to get a tow off other legs, but I wasn’t happy.  I must’ve stopped a further four times before half way to clear my goggles, which broke any rhythm I had. I thought about pulling out and was reassured by the amount of volunteers in kayaks lining the course – something for me to cling on to it I wanted to end it there.

I gave up trying to clear my goggles and ploughed on.  I wasn’t going to DNF in the middle of a canal, I’d at least try to get the swim done then see how I felt. It seemed never-ending, but eventually the final turn around buoy came into view.  I tried to take in the atmosphere, with crowds lining the canal and bridges, but it’s safe to say I absolutely hated the swim.  Finally, I got the finish ramp, and I was hauled outta there by a big strong German man. I walked out, didn’t run, and started to peel off my wetsuit.  I forgot to look at my watch to see what time I’d done.

Into the changing tent and I was greeted in German by a smiley lady who was going to be my ‘helper’.  I’d never had a helper before and didn't know where to start with her.  She babbled on at me in German so I embarrassingly had to declare "English" (I wasn't gonna get into the whole Welsh/British issue with her then). Whilst I took off my wetsuit, she emptied my bag and started handing its contents to me.  I was a bit confused but our little team seemed to work and I managed to get out of T1 in a world record breaking 4 minutes 29!

Out on the bike and I tried to gauge how I was feeling.  The first half a mile was up a slight hill, through screaming crowds, so you couldn't help but frantically pump your legs, sending your heart rate into the stratosphere.  About ten minutes in, we reached a quiet point in some woods, so I took stock.  I was a little happier but thoughts of quitting still racked my mind.  I kept peddling and started to do my drinking and eating.

In my last two iron distance races, I'd felt terribly sick on the run which more or less reduced me to the dreaded 'ironman shuffle' so this year I was determined to crack it and discover a nutrition strategy that worked better.  My tummy has always been of delicate nature and doesn't seem to like digesting things when I'm riding my bike.  I'd always liked eating energy bars and was never a big gel fan but this year I decided I'd try upping the gels to once every half hour - surely my tummy could deal with processing something a bit more gooey?  I strictly practised this in my training rides but, to be honest, I probably finished all my rides feeling bloated.  Of course I didn't run a marathon after any of my 100+ mile rides but the shortish brick runs I'd done were ok.

I took on my gels, drank water and some nuun and took in the lovely views.  The course was fast but a bit lumpy. I overtook some other ladies, kept a steady pace and gradually my heart rate settled and I started to enjoy myself.  The villages on the course were alive with rowdy spectators so it definitely wasn't boring.

Intense!

Around 40 miles in, I finally arrived at the famous Solarer Beg hill.   The experience can only de described as 'intense'. At a few points, I had a tunnel of around a metre to ride through, whilst stronger guys behind me tried to overtake me and loud Germans shouted and rang their cowbells. I think I emerged from the crowd wide-eyed, muttering ;Jesus Christ!'.  At the end of lap 1, I saw my parents and sister, which further cheered me up.

I distinctly remember the moment I started to feel good on the bike and it was after I'd stopped to have a pee in the woods at mile 60 (no portaloos!).  The DNF thoughts had long since evaporated and I was quite happily chugging away.  It was hot and a bit windy so I was a bit worried I was burning despite having put on the factor 30 before the swim. I managed to keep up my eating and drinking but getting the gels down was becoming increasingly less pleasant.  I didn't feel like my energy was fading but the inevitable discomfort of riding a bike for hours and hours started to creep in, which was fine.  Looking at my Garmin at around the 100 mile mark, I wondered whether or not I could finish the bike leg in under six and a half hours.

I was within a few miles of T2 when someone pointed out to me that my saddlebag was hanging by a thread under the saddle.  I hesitated whether or not to stop but I quickly got off the bike to tighten it since it was flapping around my legs.

Getting into T2 at Roth, I concluded I'd had a pretty good bike leg.  I didn't feel like I'd gone over the top. I'd held back for the first half during my doom and gloom about not really feeling it, but the rest of the time I'd ridden happy and steady.  Now I had the run to negotiate but I didn't really know how I felt about it. What I did know is that it was hot and I'm not a big fan of running in heat!

I had another helper in T2 who slathered me in sunscreen, which was a rather strange experience, but much appreciated.  The first half mile or so of the run was downhill so I got into a nice little jog, trying to rid the thoughts of "hmmm I'm really quite tired now" and "oh my god it's hot" out of my head.  There was great crowd support and my general mood was good.  I had a loose ambition of just walking the aid stations but I knew that would probably fall apart at some point.

I wondered where Dan was and was surprised he hadn't overtaken me on the bike (he'd started 50 minutes after me) and just after the first aid station he caught up with me and we ran up the hill, through the shade of the trees, to the canal together. We swapped horror stories (he hadn't enjoyed the bike) and at the canal he picked up his pace and was soon out of sight.

There was hardly any shade on the first section of canal and the sun was blazing. At the aid stations I drenched myself in sponges which was heaven and cooled me down, and took sips of water to cure my dry mouth. Pretty soon my 'walk the aid stations' strategy had predictably failed but I kept up a good regime of spotting objects in the distance and running to them before walking for a minute.  Since it was an out and back loop, I was envious of the other athletes who were already on their way back.

The wheels really fell off at around the 20km mark and I just couldn't bring myself to run much anymore and felt as sick as a dog. I was so annoyed. I was fairly pleased with how I'd been running so far. I remembered Andy telling me at IM Wales last year that if I was going to walk then to walk with purpose so I mustered as much of a power walk as I could.

At 30k, I saw Dan coming back the other way. He was walking and didn't look happy at all.  He wanted to quit so I gave him a pep talk telling him to stay positive and walk to the finish.  We'd now come off the canal and were doing a loop of the village of Eckersmuhlen, which was a welcome break for the dusty path. Despite still feeling sick, my mood was good and I ploughed on.  I started to force myself to run a bit more too.  There were plenty of spectators on the course urging you on - "Schnell! Schnell!". So I schnelled a bit.

I must've been a bit bored when I got back to the canal with 6k to go because I was eager to chat to someone, just to make the last section a bit more interesting.  I happened upon a fellow lady wearing a tri suit made by SLS Tri who sponsor the IM Talk podcast I listen to.  I quickly glanced at her race number and saw that she was an Aussie called Melissa.  I can't remember what I said to her, but she was in a similar position to me in that there wasn't much running left in her legs.  So we started chatting about what races we'd done and which podcasts we listened to.  We also started a pretty good regime of 'running to a certain point then walking to a certain point: repeat' and the last  few miles passed by quickly.  My dream of a sub 13 hours had long since gone and getting under my Copenhagen time was now unrealistic but I was just happy to get it finished now.

We were soon back in Roth but there were still an agonising three or so kilometre loop around the town to do.  Encouraged by a seemingly quite drunk crowd and the lure of the finish line, we stepped our running a little bit more.  We even caught up with and overtook Dan who'd thankfully continued his march to the finish.

Squint and you'll see Melissa and I - we're running!

 Finally, the finish arena was in sight and we were soon running on the red carpet, which seemed to go on for ever!  Into the stadium and the noise was pretty deafening.  I thanked Melissa for making the last miles bearable and fun and let her go under the gantry first.  Then I crossed the line, relieved.

To be honest, other than relief, I felt quite emotionless coming over the line.  I half heartedly pumped my fist. Given how I'd felt that morning I felt very relieved to finish but was a bit sad that I hadn't felt in peak condition and that nausea had spoilt my run AGAIN.

A few minutes later, as I said my goodbyes to Melissa who was whisked away by a helper for some food and drink, Dan came over the line. We hugged and stumbled to get a drink, but the only liquid we could find was non-alcoholic beer, which seemed like a good idea but didn't really go down very well.  We both felt pretty ropey so I went to salvage my after-race bag which I knew had a packet of Hula Hoops in it.  God they tasted good.  We soon found the buffet and feasted on german salami and cheese sandwiches and cakes and after a shower to get rid of the canal dust, we both felt quite rejuvenated again and could savour the thought that we'd done another ironman.

Time:  13h44

Swim: 1h22

T1: 4m29

Bike: 6h30m7s!!!

T2: 5m40

Run 5h41

On reflection the total time isn't too bad at all.  I'm disappointed with the swim time, being 5 minutes slower than my time in Copenhagen, but it reflects the less than enjoyable time I had in the canal. I have to say that my T1 time in phenomenal (for me). Look at my bike time - 8 seconds from a sub-6:30!  Damn that saddle bag mishap!   I blame the slow-ish T2 time on the sunscreen lady (ahem!).  Comparing my run time to those of IM Wales (5h30)  and Copenhagen (5h24) I struggle to understand how it could've been so much slower. I have pretty much felt identically sick in all three marathons.  I guess it was the heat and possibly whatever was wrong with me to make me feel sub-par. Who knows?

August is recovery month before I step up the running in preparation for the Beacons Ultra in November.

Lovely Rothsee lake