Roth 'Quelle Challenge 2003

by Mark Richardson

Pre-race

My wife Alison and I travelled out on the Thursday before the Sunday race, arriving in Roth accompanied by intermittent heavy downpours. The weather the week before had been hot, 35degC hot! Luckily the weather seemed to have broken and temperatures were now in the low twenties. As chance would have it Friday evening was pasta party time, right on cue Matt (Carteiller) arrived with his parents and we chomped our way through lots of pasta alongside another Brit, Mark Wheeler from the Midlands.

After bike check-in on Saturday we went off to the pre-race briefing – complete with small pre-race snacks and drinks. Matt arrived breathless about 10 minutes late. Having had his helmet rejected at T1 check-in with a hairline crack he’d had to return to the expo, buy a new one and race back to T1 to complete his check-in seconds before they shut up shop. Disaster averted he tried to calm down before the race.

The pre-race briefing was compered by various members of the Roth organising committee and we weren’t expecting great translation, expecting to rely upon Matt being a native French speaker and my rusty German to make out what we could. We were surprised then when various members of the committee did their own translation and those that spoke no English had their sections expertly translated by one of the others. The English was for the most part perfect and even included translation of the German jokes which liberally peppered the instructions. The loudest cheers of the night were for the guys that listed the aid station food.

Each bike aid station started with a child’s paddling pool and progressed to water, energy drink, bananas, cakes, energy bar, energy drink and water. Wait a minute …child’s paddling pool??!!… well that was where everyone was requested to throw their empty, or not-so empty hence the pool, drinks containers. In case of a very hot day they would need some of the old containers to clean and refill for the second bike lap!

The run got even more impressive, as the guy rolled through his list. There was an aid station on the run every 2km, then the order of refreshment collection was sponge, water, bananas, energy drink, melon, orange, fruit, energy bar, nuts, salty biscuits, energy bar, energy drink, bananas, water, sponge. I’m sure I’ve missed a few as well! With the smorgasbord ahead spinning through our minds we nervously exited the briefing and made our separate ways home. A check on wake-up at the hotel revealed they would be laying breakfast at 4am for any guest who could eat at that time and we all trooped off to get what rest we could.

I didn’t sleep my usual “sleep of the dead” that night as I kept waking up but soon enough 4am came around and after a quick light Fruhstuck we were off.

Race day arrives

Atmospheric music was playing at a low volume as the sky slowly lightened over a bustling transition; the volume ramped as the sky lightened, and tendrils of mist lying low over the canal dispersed. Pre-race nerves started to jangle and before long the pros were lined up for their 6:45 start in the canal.

TV cameras were bristling from various viewpoints, hot air balloons were sweeping low over the canal, an airship cruised along about 500 ft up, and the PA announcer asked for a the crowds along the canal to cheer. It was an eerie sound – fully 10,000 people there at 6.45 am on a Sunday morning, banners draped all across the bridge, hooters, rattles and other noisemakers were brought into play as the noise cascaded around us. A cannon sounded and the pros were off.

Waves of about 300 were scheduled to continue at 5 minute intervals through to 7:15 when I would leave in the last individual wave – eventually followed by the relay competitors 30 minutes later.  A final visit to the loos – about the 6^th time that morning - handover of kit to Alison and I pulled on my wetsuit and entered the start corral. Matt was off 10 minutes in front of me and Mark Wheeler left in the wave in between so there were two carrots to try and chase down.

Eventually our turn came and we stepped across the mat into the warm canal. Water temp was about 19 degrees, perfect. I briskly warmed up and realised that with only 5 minutes to start there was no point hanging around the entry point and swam swiftly down to the start line arriving front row with only 90 seconds to spare. When I say front row I mean that the line was only one person deep – and had lots of gaps. Fantastic, far better for swimming than the IM Corporation branded mass starts of 1000 and more. In the next 90 seconds about half the wave managed to make the start line, the rest either mis-timing their warm up or hanging back for clear water. The crowd was whipped into another frenzy by the DJ, the cannon boomed and we were off. I started right on the b of boom and a few strokes later looked up to see myself leading the wave! I risked another look about 5 strokes later and saw a bunch in the middle had overhauled me - ho hum. I settled in and tried to find feet to draft – visibility in the canal was good – about 20 feet so after a while I settled on a pair of feet - no sooner had I done so than someone charged up beside me shouldering me off-line and out of the draft – I moved to a different pair of feet only to find their owner a hopeless navigator and 5 minutes later I bit the bullet and headed off on a more direct route down the canal leading my own mini-train of drafters. I knew I was being drafted as every time I lifted my head to sight – slowing slightly as I did so - the person behinds fingers brushed my feet.

This was the swim leg slightly with the current so I expected the turn buoy to appear pretty quickly and it duly did. Now came the cunning plan as I turned and headed back up the canal crossing wide to close right in on the bank on the far side figuring flow against me would be weakest at this point. A minute later I felt a stab of pain as the middle finger of my right hand brushed the bottom and I felt warm blood start to flow. Cunning plan in tatters I angled back towards deeper water. Although I knew I was bleeding I thought the cool water would soon stem the flow so I continued, trying to stay long and stroke long. Piranha and great whites not being that common in German canals I also mentally crossed off any dangers from local wildlife and took a watching brief as the finger throbbed in the cold water.

A pair of steady feet appeared and I started to draft off them – just the right pace and I settled in, HR dropped, and I was cruising nicely. We had been passing people in the previous wave since about 900m down the first leg, around the turn I noticed that I was passing some from the wave in front of that and now I noticed we were overhauling some from the wave which started a full 15 minutes in front of us. Looking up I found we were about 400m from the finish and decided to push on past my drafting feet. Bad idea – the HR went up, blood started flowing in my legs as I started to kick and I immediately got cramp, I trod water with one leg whilst I pulled on my right leg toes to ease the cramp – a minute later I felt lots better and started swimming again- my drafting feet were now 50 metres distant so I wouldn’t catch them before the finish.

I made it to dry land pushed the button for my split (was very happy to see 1:10:40 396/1144) and was helped up the ramp out of the canal by some volunteers to find that I had no blood left in my legs at all – I staggered along the carpet to my T1 bag and into the tent like a drunkard, calves screaming as the blood entered them threatening to seize up and cramp at any moment. A volunteer grabbed my bag for me, upended it and helped me sort through he detritus as I shed my wetsuit. Once I was starting to dress the volunteer replaced all I didn’t need in the bag, asking again each time before they dropped things in - great service!

I got to my feet and staggered off into transition. I followed my pre-mapped route to the bike, along the way inspecting my finger for damage and finding a clean cut. At the bike I fiddling with gels and helmet for a while but soon enough I was off and to the exit onto the bike – a wave at Alison, and I was off pushing the button again (3:27 for T1).    

The bike went uphill for a short distance over the canal bridge and then turned left down a steepish hill, hay bales guarded a sharp corner and we were off. It was a good job it was downhill as my legs were still all over the place. I concentrated on spinning to try and get blood somewhere near the right muscle groups.  A few miles later we entered the bier mile in Eckersmulen to the pounding of trestle tables with steins of beer – it struck me that 8:30 on a Sunday morning might be a little early for a drink, even in Germany. In reality it could have been anything in the glasses as it’s a fast section and mostly a blur! (But I bet it was beer!)

The route turned onto the first loop here and after the first bike aid station, which having full bottles and 9 remaining gels I steered well clear of, we were quickly amongst the forest. The whole area around Roth is very wooded and the bike leg has many forested sections. Here the first real hill is met and I was passed by a few on the climb – I was trying to keep steady on the bike. My goal was sub-six hours and I didn’t want to get off the bike to find I couldn’t run!

Following the hill was a fast downhill section and I found myself through that into and through a town and then on another short sharp climb about 500m long. Disco music was pumping and a crowd had gathered on the hilltop, including – one of my lifetime ambitions was realised here – the devil himself. True to form the devil brandished his trident and ran alongside for a while – and this was a bonus – ably supported by his young son probably about 7 years old and also clad in full devil regalia of his own!

After the excitement of Devil & Son Esq. I found myself spinning along a river valley, at a steady 48 km/h. I was a little worried I was pushing too hard but realising the wind was at my back I knuckled down and concentrated on keeping a cadence of about 85-90 rpm. On long competitive rides I find it beneficial to keep an even cadence (my speed is a result of the cadence rather than the other way around).

Other competitors were well spaced at about 50-100m intervals along this section but I found myself presented with a succession of “carrots” in front of me which I steadily reeled in and passed without expending noticeably extra effort.

Further along the valley I saw a guy in front skulking in the hedgerow and wondered what was happening – I looked across as I passed to be greeted by the flash as a race photographer took a photo – damn forgot to smile and worse still didn’t wipe the spittle from my chin! I remembered the location for the second loop.

I continued harvesting carrots until I lost count at about 50 gained – for the loss of 2.

In no time at all I was at the southernmost tip of the course and tuned sharp left into the village of Greding and then sharp left again up the steepest hill on the course. 12% is rather too steep for a large chap to handle in his stride so I was expecting people to pass me here and sure enough they did. A few hundred metres up the hill was the second aid station which I studiously ignored still having plenty of electrolyte and energy drink and sticking with a pre-formed plan to save a little time by only ever doing this climb with one bottle full. After about 500m the slope slackened off a little and I started to claw my way back, up the field. The new Zipp 404 wheels helped here being noticeably faster accelerating than any other wheels I’d ridden. 5km is a long drag and so I consciously refrained from pulling the pin and trying to overtake too many of those around me. It was here I was passed by the first relay competitor – a guy (different coloured numbers made all the relay competitors easily identifiable) came past pushing a HUGE gear on a slight uphill, I kid you not this man was going a full 10-15 km/h faster than me. The German Uber-biker alert went off!

Once at the top though there was a kilometre of rolling crests followed by a steep downhill complete with 2 hairpins and as I started to push harder, people were coming back to me quickly now.

The next section was gently rolling hills across farmland and I noticed the wind that had been at my back was now at my face making this section considerably harder. Riders were scrupulous in their adherence to the non-drafting rules here not taking any illegal advantage.

Through the third aid station and I picked up my first bottle of energy drink- even managing to hit the kiddie paddling pool with my empty. The drinks bottles for Roth were chosen with extreme care – i.e. the most “battered but reliable” on the water bottle shelf. Thus I swapped old and battered race bottles for shiny new ones – fair exchangeJ.

A short section later we descended into Hilpoltstein, home of the Solarerberg climb, the road here is nice and smooth and I wound it up towards the bottom of the hill turning right to be greeted by an amazing sight. About 15,000 people lining the roadside all waving rattles and funnelling the riders into a narrow corridor of humanity. I looked for Alison as we’d arranged that she’d be here supporting but it was impossible to pick her out in the sea of faces.   I rode hard at the bottom of the hill trying to hold my momentum and was sucked into the narrow corridor on a wave of crowd induced speed. This was quite alarming at first as the corridor appeared to end about 50 yards in front of me – closing up to nothing. I suddenly realised that this was deliberate, the tunnel was closed with banners, flags and the large cardboard supporters’ hands, I rode at it and just like the Red Sea it parted about 6 inches in front of my nose to re-form behind me. Cool – two ambitions realised in one day!

Another relay competitor came up fast behind me and the crowd in front scooted rapidly backwards doubling the corridor width as he pulled alongside and then past, though he was also clearly nervous at this manoeuvre as our handlebars were less than an inch apart as he went by. He was also pushing a huge gear about 10 km/h faster than I was going! Uber biker alert II.

A loop in the hills above Hilpoltstein followed and then a descent back into the other side of town. This time I saw Alison and gave her the thumbs up as I whizzed past at 50km/h. A hard right uphill and I was back at the swim finish.

The second lap was similar to the first with the following points of note:

1)      a little psychological dip as I started the second lap. (On no not again!)

2)      the hay bales on the downhill after the start now had a competitors bike propped against them – oooops that’ll be too fast to make the corner then!

3)      a psychological up as I checked my watch and realised that unless I had a mechanical or a total “blow up” I stood the chance of blowing my 6 hour bike target sky high.

4)      Devil & Son Esq. were still in place but running more slowly. Maybe I was riding more slowly too?

5)      The river valley was still fast and once again I overtook rucks of people on this section.

6)      I was grimacing as I passed the photographer for the second time.

7)      The 12% hill in Greding felt lots harder second time around

8)      A bike was propped against the barrier on fast downhill hairpin #1 – ooops that’ll be too fast to make that corner then!

9)      I passed a guy with a pigeon embedded in his helmet at about 155km – OK it was a paper pigeon - but seriously the guy did the whole race with what was effectively an airbrake nailed to his helmet!

10)  I hit every paddling pool I aimed at. 633 Squadron lives on, humming the theme tune as I made my approach!

11)  Hydration was right on plan as I had to stop and water a hedgerow.

12)  The wind had got up for the second lap – I started to “tow a bit” into the wind.

13)   Solarerberg didn’t have quite as many people on it but it was still an amazing experience - I had more time to notice that someone had dragged an air-raid siren onto the hill and was using it liberally at the first hint of a cyclist approaching! I said “thank-you” to the guy stood at the top of the hill offering fags to passing cyclists J I nearly took up the offer of his mate who was holding out cans of beer!

14)  I finally exhausted my supply of 10 SIS gels that I’d crammed into bento box and pockets and for good measure I’d eaten some energy bars and a half a banana from the aid stations. I’d drunk 5 water bottles dry.

By the time I wound up the bike on the downhill to T2 things were getting ugly and I was glad to lose the bike in 5:35:20. 381/1144. Wait a minute 5:35:20, that’ll be the six hour mark toasted then!

A quick trot across the grass after someone relieved me of my bike and I was into the sanctuary of T2 – again a volunteer took me in hand, emptied the contents of my bag onto the floor, took my cycling kit off me – stowed it and then asked before stowing every item remaining. I’m not kidding, with a befuddled rider, and a language barrier this was a slick performance. I pressed the button as I exited in 3:05 and started the short stepping “prancing pony” gait one does when faced with trying to run after spending far too long on a bike!

The first thing I noticed was the crowd shouting me along as I exited T2 and ran down yet another crowd corridor for the first 500m, a sharp downhill and I was suddenly alone again. I realised that I hadn’t caught Matt on the bike and so was unlikely to catch him on the run unless he suffered a blow-up.

The first aid station appeared out of nowhere about a kilometre in.

Cast you mind back if you will to Jurassic Park, you knew when the Tyrannosaurus was on his way as you could see ripples in the cups of coffee … well aid station workers at Roth must have had the same experience – staring down in disbelief at the ripples in the plastic cups and then looking up to see me looming over the horizon towards them. I swear I saw a few dive for cover under the trestles! “Hier klomt Richardson” the cry went up,  A few brave souls ran towards danger and passed me sponges, water was held out at arms length, kleine Kinder hid under mothers skirts as the Richardson caravan rumbled through eying the food on display, snagging a banana, more water and then a final sponge. I smiled because I knew that if all else failed I would attempt to eat myself around this marathonJ.

Another ambition of mine has been to witness first-hand a titanic battle of triathlon, Mark Allen vs. Dave Scott style. I realised my third ambition of the day when approaching Aid Station 2 on the run (4km in and all systems green).

Aid Station 2 was at the junction of road and tow-path in Roth and something of a “hot corner” having it’s own DJ/announcer, they must have seen the ripples in the canal because as I approached the volume increased, the DJ went into frenzy mode and I thought the Germans were all stark-staring mad doing all this for a middle-aged Englishman with receding hairline. Then I saw what they had seen, Lothar Leder leading the race, by about the thickness of a credit card, from Chris McCormack young gun Aussie trying to convert his dominance on the short course to long course. They blasted past going the other way, crowd noise following them, rippling through the fir tress around us. It was only a few seconds before they were past but I knew what I had seen, 137 miles of racing and still they couldn’t be separated. Anyone for a sprint finish?

I ran on down to the canal inspired by what I’d seen, seeing Alison as I started along the tow-path and telling her I was OK, she telling me Matt was only 5 minutes ahead.  The kilometres ticked by at a regular pace and for the first time the sun started to make its presence felt and I made full use of sponges and water at each aid station.

My one gripe from the whole race being that the water served in most of the aid stations was carbonated – ugh!! I drank energy drink instead, poured the water over my head, pinched the plastic water cups and shook to get rid of the bubbles or just gulped it down and burped copiously. This led to some comedy moments right around the run course as people were burping and farting left right and centre and there was nothing anyone could do about it!!

I passed Matt going the other way at about 10km in, still going strong. In knew it was about 12k to the turn so as he’d put 10 minutes into me in the last 6 km, he was running well and I felt happy for him as I knew he’d always wanted to have a good marathon in an IM distance race.

As I have a better than average swim and bike I’m pretty used to people passing me on the run as it’s my weakest event, sure enough a steady stream had been passing me since the run start – I only passed those in their IM death throes of cramp or muscular distress. I made the first turn and at about 14K a slight incline back to the towpath was the first sign of weakness. I’d been averaging about 5 minute km until then but suddenly the pace dropped and I felt short on energy. I was in the same state when I passed Alison at 20K in and waved her off to the finish to wait for me. From that point on the marathon got tough, I walked for the first time at km 26 and from then on I walked each aid station pausing slightly longer at the few that had still water. After one of these I realised that I was a little dehydrated as my pace picked up considerably after a good drink. My speed increased a little after km 32 when I started to compensate and drink more. A few cameos acted themselves out on this section of the race:

1)      Along one section of a tree-lined avenue local children were collecting dropped sponges, dropping them into Dads car washing bucket and then offering them back to the athletes – an extra sponge stop that I gratefully accepted.

2)      I crossed again with Matt at about km 26 for me, 34 for him; he was still going strong and looked good!

3)      At aid station km 34 I rumbled thru at a fast walk grabbing what I could and asked for water just before the last sponge men were stood – a helpless volunteer had nothing in hand so I just rumbled thru – took a sponge and carried on. About 50 metres down the track the same volunteer came running up behind me offering a cup of water – I thanked him profusely and accepted. Now that’s a volunteer that takes their job seriously!

I finally turned off the canal and went thru the aid station where I’d witnessed Leder and McCormack battling it out, now I was getting within reach of the finish, a cyclist accompanied me through some of the forest section here speaking excitedly in to me in German .He looked somewhat aghast when after 500m of talking I finally said something back, and he realised I was English, so he then repeated what he’d said in perfect English! Telling me to be strong the last aid station was only around the corner and then there were big crowds. As I approached the last aid station he said a cheery “Tchuss” and reversed course to encourage the next competitor who was looking particularly in need of help.

I took a long drink and steady walk at the last aid station and resolved to run all the way to the finish – within 200m I’d failed as the road curved wickedly uphill – the reverse of the downhill that had sped me out of transition. I crested the top started running again and within 100m was enveloped in a mass of supporters cheering me on, left turn uphill some more and then after 100m turning into the stadium complex, running on carpet into the stadium and the cheers of the crowd, I applauded the crowd   and they clapped and cheered back. Around the last two carpeted turns looking into the crowd for Alison, not a chance of picking her out in the huge sea of faces, and finally under the finish gantry with my arms aloft.

Run: 4:44:02, 881/1144

Total time: 11:36:32 632/1144.

I am an Ironman®!

I leant pretty heavily on a few finish line volunteers and I’m not afraid to say a few tears may have escaped my eyes. I was quickly led away before I had to be carried away. A finish timing sheet was pressed into my hand, a medal hung around my neck and a finishers shirt handed to me. I walked into the finish tent a happy man. 11:36 - not bad for a first attempt – already my thoughts were on next year, if I could just learn to run faster I’d be dangerous!

A few minutes later I met Matt, a 10:30:00 finish. A 3:30:40 run!  258/1144.

We got a massage, drank as much as we could, including some Erdinger alocholfrei Bier (the ads should say “Foamiest Beer on the Planet”) and changed out back stretching tired muscles in T2 bike park waiting for Mark Wheeler to be announced – sure enough he was in 12:53:44.

With that we departed T2 and managed to re-unite ourselves with Alison and sat in the stadium as the light dimmed and the cheers for the finishers got louder and louder. The winner was announced Leder beating McCormack by 3 seconds – the race highlights were replayed on the big screen and we went live to German TV for interviews. Both McCormack and Leder vowed to return next year.

Someone ought to tell them to be afraid, be very afraid, Matt and I may return as well!

The finale was the candlelight finish as all 3000 spectators in the stadium lit sparklers.

A fairytale end to a fairytale day.