Conflicting information around registration and shoe check-in, meant that we had to make an extra journey to ADH on the morning of the race to set up our trainers in T2, as we'd been unable to leave them there the day before. We drove via the 21 hairpins just to familiarise ourselves once again with the course that lay ahead. It must have taken us all of an effortless 20 minutes in the car, it didn't bear thinking what our equivalent two wheeled effort might take.
Back in the apartment, we watched the rain continue to fall and reckoned to allow a few additional minutes for the descent to T1 and the start of the swim down at Lac du Verney. Needn't have, whether it was the adrenalin, or stupidity, we rocketed down the hairpins from Vaujany down to the lake, despite neither of us having ridden our, or any for that matter, road bikes in the wet. Yes, we really were quite wet behind the ears!
On reaching T1, there was a real buzz. Inevitable really, this race is set in the most spectacular surroundings and takes in one of the most famous cycle climbs in the world. And what's more, the sun had come out! Of course, we'd forgotten to bother with suncream, having only seen clouds and rain up until then. There were 1,200 of us penned into the transition area, and we'd been plonked firmly in the middle of little Britain. As had every other nation been lumped together, creating a sense of national pride and good humoured international rivalry, which would continue through the race.
Then it hit me, I'd not read or heard anything about a waved start, surely they wouldn't set 1,200 people off at the same time, that would be mayhem, wouldn't it? The question was quickly answered, of course we'd all set of together and it would be complete mayhem, but that's all part of the experience, isn't it?
At 2pm, 1,200 people headed off from a treading water start towards the first white buoy, some 500 metres in the distance, not that I could see it. A melee of thrashing, gargling, ducking and frantic breathing ensued and didn't really stop until we left the water some 20 minutes and 1.2km later. We could easily have been part of a natural history program, the whole thing had a very primal feel to it, although what Attenborough would have figured we'd been up to is anyone's guess. What an experience. Despite the constant thrashing about you and the fight for your life style of swimming, I did take a moment or two to take in the surroundings. The steep valley walls, the fresh turquoise mountain water (an unexpected addition to my hydration strategy) and the safety helicopter hovering just feet above our heads.
The transition was relaxed, I was spent from the 20 minute fight I'd just felt I'd lost. The first part of the cycle to the base of the Alp was quick, very quick for a relative newbie to this cycling game. In hindsight, I probably went off a little too fast, but haring round mountain bends and racing through quaint French villages was just too tempting to ignore. On reaching the base of the climb, my average speed read 23.3mph, very quick for me, but I still felt fine. That feeling wouldn't last long.
The first few ramps up the climb are steep, I dropped into my lowest gear, not low enough but it'd have to do. Around me, people steadily rolled past, somehow finding an extra mile per hour more than me. Some were emptying their water bottles onto the road, to free up an extra kilo or two, I kept mine intact. By the 3rd switchback, bend number 19 (the signs at every bend count down), I was already feeling beaten. Three days earlier I'd almost bounced up here, but the swim and the fast first cycle leg were taking their toll. This was going to be tough.
I can't really draw on specifics for much of the climb, as it was a case of head down and focusing on keeping mentally strong, despite the constant wave of people passing me. I reckon a couple of hundred people, at least, must have passed me on the climb. I passed 3. One had a puncture and the others were resting, and probably passed me later anyway!
I will mention the support along the hill, it was fantastic, people at nearly every bend, passing slowly in cars, lining the road, "Allez, allez David!". It helps, a lot. Our race numbers had our names and country flags on them, which meant the crowds could join in the support and give an extra cheer to their countrymen.
I passed the "4km to go" sign, glanced at my current speed and time taken so far on the bike, 8km/h and 1h25m, and realised that, so long as I could keep this up, I'd come in in under 2 hours for the bike, which would give me a fighting chance of finishing the whole course in under 3 hours, a goal I'd inwardly set myself as an ambitious but achievable target. It was now everything I could do to just keep going and not stop. The trail of people passing me had slowed, I'd found my rhythm and natural position in the pack.
Hairpin 1 grew steadily closer. It was a done deal, there's no way I'd be giving up now, nor would I need to take a breather and 3 hours was still looking possible, providing I could find extra reserves for the run. Slightly frustratingly, but not entirely unsuspected, were the additional 3 bends following the finish of the traditional Alpe d'Huez climb, to get us to the transition area. Everyone rolled into the transition, we'd had enough of pedalling.
The rain started up again as I came to put on my trainers for the run and headed out for the 7km loop to finish this thing off. My hopes of clocking sub-4:45 minute kilometres for the run vanished as soon as we started to climb and a stitch started to grab hold. I settled for a 5:30 pace, which I could just about maintain at the edge of my pain threshold. This meant settling for a finish time outside the 3 hour mark, but wouldn't kill me in the process. 3km in, I saw Jules (my partner in crime for this event) on his return leg, it gave me a boost and I stepped up the pace a little.
Maths and endurance activities don't mix, it takes for ever to do the most basic of sums. That said, I'd convinced myself that if I lifted it a little, I could still get in sub-3 hours. Just then, another climb came out of nowhere and my pace slowed to over 6 min per km. The 3 hour goal immediately began to slip away again, until one of the supporters took it onto his responsibility to run alongside a couple of us to get us up the hill and reassure us that there were no more climbs, only downhills and to let it fly. Whoever that was, thank you!
We reached the summit of the final climb of the course and I could just about make out the finish some 3km in the distance. Just under 15 minutes left to go, I had to pull out some sub-5 minuters to get home in target time. I used the downhill to get my pace down to sub 4:30, to give me a bit of padding for the flat sections. It hurt but, with the finish in sight, it was acceptable pain.
I ran over the line in 2:57.51 (official). It was over. What a day, what an experience. Don't expect to see me next year though! Although that might all change tomorrow...
2 comments:
Awesome time David, and a great read to boot!
Mate, I'm planning on doing it next year so this was a great read. Chuffed for you mate, top effort.
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