Pre race
There are no rides in the UK that can prepare you for the
Alpe d'Huez tri. It is possible that only hours of gruelling power sessions on
the turbo are the solution. Or if you happen to be particularly keen and rich, 5 weeks
in the Alps before the race. I had 3 days.
On the first day I rode 65 miles at a fast pace with a Dutch in
line skater called Stephan who was in the Alps with friends from his winter training
spin club. Although it wasn't planned, this ride turned out to be a great
reminder of how to descend as he shot off down every hill ahead of me. There are no photos of this ride as parts were rather cold and wet and the rest went down hill with great speed!
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| Tipi in the rain on Sunday and MOnday. |
On the other 2 days I just spent time at altitude,
encouraging the body to adapt by doing short runs and then chilling out and
doing chores. You can rock up the day before and do this race but if you want
to feel good about the run, some acclimatisation is essential.
Before the race, I also met JP – in fact the first person I
met on arrival at the beautiful Ferme Nomenie Campsite in Borg des Oisans. He had been in the Alps for a week already
and had been riding in the hills every day.
Jealous. JP wouldn't listen to me when I told him I wasn't very good, just passionate and he said I was just being modest. In truth, I had no idea how I would do so modesty didn't come into it. All I had was a plan to meet the cut-offs and that was it.
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| This is me, excitedly acclimatising whilst spotting Emma Pooley's name on the start list near mine. |
There is a lovely outdoor pool at Alpe d'Huez which could
have been a lovely way to get altitude low impact training done but I just
wasn't that organised. Swimming in the lake is normally a no no due to the
large hydroelectric turbines causing trouble with currents and the like. This brings a feeling of 'what lies beneath '
to the swim in the seemingly bottomless lac du Verney. So clear you can see your hands but not a lot
further in the endless deep.
As a result of my 'altitude training' I got to choose a
parking spot for the week. Always empty, surprisingly near to everything. I
hoped it would still be there race day and it was. I was still early to set up
my T2 and satisfied that my organisation paid off as I calmly unpacked my pile
of stuff then headed back to the car to change into my bike kit to descend to
the start and T1.
Down the hill again.
The great advantage to my parking spot was there was still a
part of the Alpe d'Huez climb I had not used in the car - the last 3 bends. I
watched a steady stream of athletes coming down it and joined them on the way
down to T1 and the start. We then all turned off to Villard Reculas and therefore I had ridden only a short section of Alpe d'Huez - and in reverse too.
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| On the descent from the Alp to Vallard Reculas |
There was a lot going on at the approach to the Villard Reculas
turn. An English team were fretting about going the wrong way and someone
behind was also shouting. Despite having
tried the Reculas road in the car and given up with the traffic, narrow passing
places and sometimes upwards incline, every one seemed to be going that way so
I followed, knowing it was the shortest route.
I waited to make sure everyone in the English team had seen the turn.
It was a beautiful ride and indeed the shortest route to the
start. With my wetsuit in the dry apidura bag on the seat post of my bike, nothing was hindering my
body movements down the hill and I descended faster than most around me - not
that anyone was racing except two blokes who danced by in close succession like
a couple of mating dragonflies.
As I made it through the mass of people suddenly scrabbling
for their numbers at check-in I finally got to say hi to one of my idols, Ms
Emma Pooley. I literally gabbled
something at her, whilst she was contained enough to calmly wish me a good
race. I didn’t even have the brain to
say, “you too”, sorry Emma!
In transition, the organisers had kindly put me and my (as yet unknown to me) team mate, Justin next
to eachoher.
As he is now living in Switzerland, I updated him on all
things Sheffield and relaxed. Then JP
(from the campsite) turned up and asked, with some horror if I was Ok!
Confused? I had one lens missing from my glasses and he assumed I had already
taken a spill.
Shit
I momentarily considered a ride to the campsite to retrieve
a different set of lenses but no, no
time. In a moment of genius I decided to resort to taking my goggles with me on
the bike just in case I needed that kind of Mediterranean sunshine eye
protection for alpine riding. Justin
either thought I was a nonce or a genius.
I didn’t see him again all day so we’ll never know.
And we were heading for the water.
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| Lake Verney from the barrage. As you swim back to T1, this is the view. Stunning. |
The Swim
Queuing to get in, I started my watch as soon as I hit the
water to make sure I got it going. I was
still swimming to the start line when the starter horn sounded. Others were still just
getting in the water. It was a good 5 minutes swim to the start. I was about 60 seconds late by the time I
started my swim.
I swam direct. Don't know why but some chose to swim wide
meaning I mostly felt alone until I reached the buoys and everyone came piling
in. Still it wasn't too rough and the first lap was a joy with sighting off the
mountains being a real problem as I had to lift my head quite high out of the
water. Still, the main buoys were upto 500 m away, so also pointless. The water
was crystal clear and the temperature 15.7 degrees so not at all painful for me
although I did wear my vest to ensure I was in the best condition coming out.
The second lap passed without incident and I clamoured for
the proffered hands of volunteers amongst plenty of other people. The crowds were
amazing.
My hands were a bit screwed so transition took time to happen. I
chose to do the bike in real bike shorts so stripped out of bikini bottoms
under a towel but left my tri top on and added my bike jersey.
The Bike
Going out of transition around the ditherers, I got a cheer
from Wakefield tri before joining the road proper and tried not to get caught
up in an American arguing with a French
driver that decided the best way to leave site was to do a 3 point turn in the
middle of the race.
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| Longhorn on the bike route |
Still, I had approximate elevations to ride to.
I realised quickly that goggles around my neck felt un-aerodynamic
and made me look like an amateur so I managed to undo them enough to pull off
over my helmet and stuff them in my pocket. Then we turned onto the main road
and the traffic got serious. I deployed Sheffield riding techniques to sneak through on the inside of some
vehicles and as my bike crashed through a pothole whilst undertaking a huge
tipper truck I was instantly chuffed to be riding my cross bike. I passed plenty more athletes here before
turning onto the first climb of the day where they all soon passed me back.
I had a plan. I had set myself some target speeds to ride to
on each climb but although they transpired to be ambitious most of the time, I
had just proved that descents were closer to 47kph average than my projected
30kph average. So I went with what felt easy rather than struggling to meet an
unattainable target and being shafted by the time I reached the AdH. My Monday ride had taught me that much.
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| Sweeping bends and camel rolls |
I also decided to save my backside a little. Monday's ride taught me that I am not used to
sitting in the saddle for long hours but actually standing on pedals. There are also more breaks in a Peak district
ride, so I stood up occasionally to avoid saddle sores. To my horror I found myself riding to my
heart rate monitor, another thing Stephan had reminded me to do. Whilst training in the UK I'd got away with riding to feel but by hovering around zone 2 with occasional forays into zone 3 I knew I'd definitely see out the distance. First I had to get over the initial zone 5 warm up burn and later I found myself irreconcilably stuck in zone 1 with no mojo to go any faster. This is something I can work on for next time.
Quite a few gents were stopping for a wee but, ever conscious
of being dqd by an over-zealous official, I was waiting for the portaloo
located on a switchback of the climb that I had reccied on Monday. To
my horror it was gone.
Just past wee-gate I witnessed my first drop out of the day.
An English speaker, asking the ref about the rest of the climb and then, which
was the best way back. I had all the answers and encouragement but by the time
they leached to the surface I had moved up the road and his race was no more.
I zipped my trisuit
up to pass the officials, unsure of the french rules.
While the climb pushed my body to reabsorb some of the Lake
Verney water in my belly I was bursting by the time I reached the summit. Seeing bikes parked outside a small building
I joined a steady stream of women entering and leaving what is least described
as an old-fashioned squat toilet WC and better articulated as 'The Gates of
Hell'.
"I don't give a shit right now"… was followed by, "but
somebody did". I discovered just how upright I can stand to pee as I
grasped the door handle to avoid my lady-bits hovering anywhere near the
littoral shit storm that had happened in that room. The lady outside kindly warned me not to
flush for fear of spraying it everywhere. I cut my pee a little shorter and
ran!
At once thinking, well, I am going to get sick from this and
a second later arriving at the aid station and shovelling oranges and melon into my mouth with *that* hand. Wonders how many sanitary wipes I can
justify bringing next year.
The aid station was amazing. All that food and as I left, a
boy offered me some cheese. Perfect! I hadn't even needed to bring my own.
There seemed to be a lot of people treating it like a sportive aid station. I
mean I presume they have cut off times too but there was almost an Audax level
of loitering.
Off down the back of the Grand Serre and now I quickly
started to pass people I had not already left behind eating whatever it is
people were finding time to eat.
There was a rotund kid on a racy bike with insufficient gears
and Rachel the English lady, Windmills (a bloke from Cambridge), numerous
others I had not yet named and a middle-aged Spanish man who was to become a
close comrade.
I passed one guy on the right in an undertaking manoeuvre as
he was otherwise hogging the white line.
I was so glad I reccied this descent because when the hill
ran out I flew out the last corner in a tuck with all the speed to carry me part way
across the flat before leaning on my bars with my wrists and time trialling the
rest of the way.
Next climb - Col du Malisol. A little blip on the descent of
the Serre but a noticeable one and this time I took a bottle fill of juice. I
had some banter with the French marshal, leaving them saying, "not the
first time we heard that today and won't be the last either". Yes! My
jokes may be predictable but I can deliver them in French!
Beyond the road that Stephan and I took on Monday, the
Garmin started to freak out that we were off route again. For a while I
panicked. There was no one behind or in front. Did I miss a turn? Thankfully, checking the notes I had zip tied
to my top tube, I remembered that my map distances differed from those
published so was slightly reassured that I was riding on the missing part. My
Spanish friend caught me in my hesitation and we rode the remainder of the
descent playing tic tac toe as each of us had our strengths or lapses in
concentration like the beautiful stone bridge that we crossed and the impending
Col d'Ornon.
I also caught up with an Irish guy as we passed and
marvelled at a club cyclist the other way sporting an amazing handlebar 'tache.
Irish was struggling a bit he said and sure enough as the road started to kick
up to Valbonais I left him behind again.
The Valbonais control was huge, occupying the whole square
in front of the church. More people milling around. On my approach my main concern was finding my
food bag as it was 1pm and the earlier fruit fest didn't make a lunch for me. In the
food bag there was a tin of tuna with my name on it... or my racebib number at
least.
By the time I had racked my bike alongside English Dave, I
turned around to find a nice lady holding out a familiar looking food bag. I
snaffled the tuna into my pocket thinking that I wouldn't want to eat it before
the top. I then disposed of any crap and, knowing that I wasn't planning to
linger, discarded the cheap stuff and kept the expensive biscuits and nougat
that I bought on the ferry. I just about squeezed it into pockets and the nose
bag I had on the bike, asked English Dave if he was OK (no, struggling a bit)
and carried on.
Beyond the aid station the road continued to climb quite
steeply. I ate what I had left of earlier food but was still hungry so before I
ran out of trees I stopped in the shade and devoured my tuna. A short way down
the road I pulled in to bin my tin and plastic fork.
Sidebar: a few people have laughed/balked/gagged at my tin
of tuna. I have been accused of being a cat. When I bonked on one of my training
rides, I stoked the fire with a baked potato and tuna. Katy Campbell could have
sworn that Chrissie told her something about taking potatoes on rides but I
suspected I wouldn't want to eat any form of potato that had been in a plastic
bag in the back of a van for 4 hours or more in Alpine sun. The tin of tuna,
however, seemed much more achievable and so I selected a thyme flavoured dish
with a rip-off lid and packed a disposable fork. To save the discussion on tuna
going any further, I experienced no cramps or burping as a result and felt
fully replenished until Alpe d'Huez.
I set off on the gentle slopes on Ornon pretty much alone. A
few touring cyclists to say hello to and eventually, Spanish man danced by. The
cliffs above Ornon are part of the Ecrins national park and were enough to get
me up the hill. Unlike the other climbs the Ornon doesn't go above 7% grade so
I just span up with the occasional gear change to stand up for a bit.
Next stop Perrier. I heard it before I saw it. First the wuwuzella.
Then children's voices. Around 7 kids by the roadside shouting. The main man
chanting his wares like a London marketseller, "welcome to Perrier on the
Col d'Ornon. We are here to offer you water top up to replenish your bidon.
Revitalise".
High-fives were requested and given. Then came the aid
station where an elderly gentleman gave me exactly the amount of water I wanted
whilst ladies spoke encouraging words.
I left very revitalised and with my ears ringing slightly.
The rest of the Col d'Ornon passed in a breeze. The climb
was gradual and beautiful but I didn't have much company and was alone at the
aid station.
I shovelled down more fruit and took the chance to eat an
expensive gluten free chocolate snack I accidentally bought at the supermarket
so I could bin my rubbish. Volunteers desperately tried to get me to take
powerbar products but I said, "non je veut du fromage parceque le fromage
c'est bien pour l'esprit". The circular-shaped woman couldn't argue with
that one and I set off down the hill which had been described to me as
"horrible"… by someonewho doesn't like descending (JP – who has now
changed his mind!).
Mainly because I had it to myself, col d'Ornon descent was
the most fun I have had on a bike in a long time. Race rules restricted me to
my own side of the road and I wasn't going to get dqd for dangerous riding
after all that effort. For a while the turns were engaging and then warm and
then the view became familiar and I tucked it out to roll into the Borg des
Oisans valley.
I was slightly confused with the route again and
instructions for a mandatory stop. My bottle was still full from the top aid
station and I had 1 hour left to meet my planned bike time. My Dutch
friends (who were much fitter than me)
managed the Alpe d'Huez in 1:15 so I knew I was at least 22 minutes down on my
planned schedule (including my 7 minutes delay to my swim time). I rode on
through and no-one seemed to try to make me stop. I even threw some litter in
the bin to make sure I had been seen so, I happily tapped on through, quietly
on my own and the next thing I knew I was registering my start on the timing mat for the great
ascent of Alped'Huez.
In all my years on a
bike I have not yet ventured here. I admit I got a little emotional,
partly due to respect for the Alpe and partly because I was really chuffed to
have made it that far.
The first three slopes are steep at 15% and as instructed I
took them easy. There wasn't much else to do, for me. To my surprise though, I
seemed to be going better than most of the men I was with who all kept stopping
to rest in the shade except for Windmills who caught me up and ribbed me for
letting a flatlands bloke beat me up the mountain.
When JP told me he wanted to ride the whole thing in one go,
I had looked at him funny. It never actually occurred to me that I might stop
and rest. It's not in my mentality to rest on a climb. I just go slower. I was
grateful to him for introducing the idea that I might not ride the whole thing
in one go - it meant that I wouldn't be heartbroken if I had to stop, I just
would.
When I did stop though, it was at the aid station because I
was hungry and I decided to ditch my dried fruit and just take the nuts and eat
some real fruit. In doing so I found the nougat which carried me forward. Memories
of Kielder Forest. Having mostly emptied my bottle already, I also ditched the
last down the back of my neck and then down my front before taking another
fill.
As I passed the next bend I fist-bumped a swiss rider who
was struggling with the heat. The tubby kid on the over-geared bike also came
by again. I was surprised but chuffed he was still going. There was also a kiwi
and some more British, still hanging out on shady corners. I just kept thinking
that the higher i got the cooler it would get. The Swiss rider's supporters started to cheer
for me as well as him as they gradually followed us up the climb in their VW
Touran.
I took on more water at Huez crossing but by now I was in
the swing of things and had as much food as I needed. In fact, I ditched the
last of the nuts. I was looking forward to the as-yet unseen section of uphill
and passed back Windmills resting in the shade.
Then panic struck. I got shooting pains through my left
foot. I know for sure that the cleat is slightly out but hadn't adjusted it for
fear of making it worse. There was no way I could stand on it and worried it
wouldn't hold out to the top. It didn't feel like cramp but the beginning of a strain or worse, nerve damage.
With marginal relief I found that undoing the shoe helped and I managed to set
the ratchet rather loosely without stopping or falling off. Sorted.
A blonde French lady caught me up. On her tail was a non-race cyclist - a young
girl just hugging any wheel she could find. As she passed she almost pushed me
into the dirt so I asked for a bit of room.
Without apology she jumped onto my wheel and remained there
for the remainder of the climb. It was both annoying and reassuring to have
someone there. I thought she was another racer eventually so when we reached
bend 1 she had to cope with my outbutst of, "Holy shit, we made it to bend
1".
I didn't know at this
point just how close I came to being timed out. For some reason I hadn't registered the 6pm cut off time and had remembered it as 7pm out of transition.
As I raced for the line at the top of the hill, wondering to
the whereabouts of my rapturous applause from the skater friends I expected to see there, I
had no idea the clock was ticking on my race. It's a good job I had the legs on
me to sprint because I decided to spin my legs before the run.
As I reached what I thought was the summit, a voice from the
crowd said, "Depeche-toi ils ferment P2 a…" the rest was lost to me but
as far as I was aware, P2 closed at 7. I checked my notes but there was no
mention of a P2-in cut-off. Still, I sprinted anyway.
I sprung over the line in an atmosphere of frank disinterest
from the crowd. My thoughts now are with Irishman, English Dave, Spanish guy,
Rachel. At the time my thoughts were for the time I had left in transition. I didn't
want to run a half marathon in my Rapha cycling shorts but by god if I had to I
would.
Fortunately there was a race official by my spot and I asked
how long? "Ah, vous avez plein de temps". Loads of time. Great.
Thought nothing of it.
Changed my shorts for something cooler with less padding and
with great relief wriggled out of my cycling shoes and into my runners and
jogged on. My left foot no longer hurt.
I had crossed the P2-in timing mat with (not that I realised) 5
minutes to spare.
The Run
The first lap I doused myself in water at the first aid
station. I had already drunk quite enough on the climb… I mean, better in than
carrying it. As I looped around to make the return trip I saw JP running the
other way. We high-5'd and he confirmed he was finishing next lap.
Now there was more support. I ran past a lady carrying a
sign saying, "go go you're awesome" and made her laugh when I pointed
and said, "thanks, I'll take that".
The cheering continued in all languages with plenty of shouts
from Brits for the Sheffield Tri kit.
I survived the first down and up, taking the brakes off as I
had practised in training runs. I loved the off road section for the flowers,
insects, cheering people. I was intensely relieved to find the portaloo still
in place here and shut myself in for a good sit down to rid myself of all the
excess water weight. Then I got hungry.
The aid station only seemed to be offering sweet stuff so I
took what I dared (note to self: tomatoes don't work) and hoped there may be
more elsewhere. The out and back was longer than I remembered it but I felt joy
upon crossing the timing mat knowing there were 4, potentially 5 or more people
in the UK giving a little cheer every time my lap time went up on the intermet.
On the return trip, at a (normally insignificant) hill
climb, I came across a man in a Beeston cycles jersey offering encouragement to
a bloke in a Bassetlaw Tri club tri suit. I joined in, "is this a local
club run? Can anyone join?". Beeston ran with me for a bit, joking that
the hill was 'nothing compared to Crookes'.
I left him to manage his other supportees – all of TFN plus
around 10 other Brits he’d picked up during the day.
The descent back to town was damn quick. In P2, a gaggle of
ladies scrambled to give me a band of the correct colour for my lap. Later JP
commented that the amputee marshal had confused him by wearing spare bands on
her partial arm and his Alpe addled brain couldn't compute it for a few hundred
miliseconds. I know what he meant as a marshal shouted, "non, vous voulez
blanc!" At me loudly “(do I?) Ahhhhhh. The white one.”
Back to the first aid
station and to my relief there was a large plateful of crackers and they were
so salty it was amazing. I grasped a
huge handful to last me the lap and skipped off.
After I passed a man trying to throw up in a stream, I had a
chat with a man from Doncaster and then caught up to Beeston man for more east
midlands gossip. He also said, "everyone looks so much better on this hill
the last time around" and I scoffed at him. At the time I was pretty sure
my first passage would have been the best but damn sure I wouldn't be able to
do it faster on the next lap.
I was sorry to see English Dave walking the other way with
his bike, a rejection of the cut off. He looked relieved it was over but still
disappointed.
That downhill to the finish again. I passed an Irish girl
and asked how she was doing. "I'm absolutely dying" was the response
but we ran together a short way and as the wind picked up and he cloud drew in
I said at least the weather were more British and decided to worry about the
political position of that statement later.
A little further along, another competitor was offering
encouragement to two women running together.
I only caught the end of the conversation but he had asked if they were
going to finish and one was saying, “We’re going to if they let us”.
Through P2 again and a blue band this time, more crackers
and more English cheering as well as French.
A Russian guy passed me on the
down and up and we had a nice chat until I diverted to pat a dog - as l do now
for good luck. I tried a final few jelly beans then tried to hold on to them as
I passed a man on his knees retching into the grass. I tried in 2 languages to
ask if he was going to be Ok but all he could do was groan at me. There were plenty of people to help if he
collapsed so I carried on.
Beeston was right. I did feel better up that hill on the
last lap. My form was all to pot but as long as I slapped my feet on the ground
fast enough they were ticking over quite well. Time for the downhill then
reaching the tiny uphill kicker where, yes, the legs were still working.
Through P2 for the last time and a black band and I can see Russian running with someone else.
It's now finally over and I find the strength to pass both men on the uphill.
There's one loop of around 100m to go and I see JP walking the other way
screaming. I sprint, he sprints outside the barriers. I have no idea what
Russian is doing.
I look at my watch. I may have lost 19 minutes on the bike
but I just took 22 minutes off my run time. I am screaming and streaming tears
as I run down the finish straight. Something doesn't feel right. I can hear the
words 'subject to verification' over the tannoy and am slightly worried but
nothing can detract from what I have done. For moment I wonder if I’ve won the
prize draw and someone is about to give me the keys to a Renault Clio but I
don’t care because I’ve already won the best prize.
I feel like I have made up for Celtman. I have no idea how
close I came to missing out. Someone gives me a medal and I momentarily
consider the hot tub with a strange but nice Russian before deciding it’s too
cold to walk around wet and instead I flop into a fatboy beanbag whilst JP
brings me pasta.
Eventually I wrench myself out of said beanbag and head for
the wetsuit collection point to retrieve my swim kit (minus goggles, plus half
sunglasses) and P2 to retrieve my bike and other random discarded sweaty and
unsweaty kit. There I meet Irish girl
who bypasses my British comments and gives me a hug and I get to high 5
Windmills who is setting off on his last lap.
The Aftermath
By the time we had eaten and found the strength to stand
again, we were in no mood to find my mobile phone and call the rest of the team
down at the campsite who had offered to cook us dinner. We wanted to take
some selfies in front of an alp (with JP’s phone), throw on a dry robe and drive
down the hill – with the express instructions to JP that he had to do the gears
if I got cramp and shout at me if I drove on the left.
The passage was smooth (after we let some rushy people past)
but we finally rocked into the campsite at 9:45, asking for more time to get
changed before dinner. Linda patiently served us ALL THE FOOD and
then asked what had happened. The story
unfolded of the 6pm cut off. Of
competitors being stripped of their numbers and timing chips and forbidden from
continuing. The Dutch team hadn’t seen
me come in and couldn’t see me on the run so when they saw the 6pm cut off,
they assumed I hadn’t made it. They
watched the broom waggon come in and I wasn’t on it. They texted me to find out where I was but my
phone was buried deep in a kit bag in the car so obviously I hadn’t responded.
This started a conundrum of emotions as I started to fear that I had sneaked under a line and would be somehow disqualified. I still had no idea if the 6pm rule was valid so frantic result checking ensued.
Thankfully I had a result and it clearly stated the time that I reached the top of the Alp was 5:55. As I write
this I believe only 10-15 people finished behind me and none of them were in my
age group making me last in my AG. There were 108 DNF/DQs and 117 DNSs. I don’t know if the women who were
going on to complete were acting with or without the official’s blessing. I hope they did it and I hope they were given
a result. It took me a while to realise that I paced my ride on a route that was 12km short which accounted for
22 of the 19 minutes I went over my pace time on the bike. I was also 4 minutes late off the swim start
as the gun sounded when many competitors were either toeing the water or
in-progress of swimming there (it was a good 5 minute swim to the start which I really wasn't prepared for).
It was incredible. The route is awe inspiring. Riding through the Parc des Ecrans was my favourite
part, followed by the descent of the Ornon.
Alpe d’Huez itself was punishing and fulfilling though not my favourite
bit this year, I think that maybe it will be when I smash it another year (he
he).
The marshals directions were amazing. The police support was amazing. The aid stations were well stocked and
enthusiastic to a fault (could have stayed there all day). The personal service of drop bags all
worked. I couldn’t believe that at
transition they had put teams together so I got to meet my only team mate out
there. Not only that but there was a little
Sheffield corner with another guy representing Planet-X.
They seem to have taken on board comments
that the swim was too busy with boats and I didn’t experience any choppiness at
all. There wasn’t a moment on the bike
that I felt lonely as aid stations were always just a climb or a descent
away. The run was so well supported by
aid and spectators that it disappeared in no time.
At the top of Alpe d’Huez I wasn’t sure if I
wanted to put myself through the training for the race again. By the time I got up off that beanbag, I was
ready for another go.
 |
| Yes, this smile does say it all |
Final results:
Overall: 10:44:47 15/17, 59/81, 794/1082
Swim:51:17 for 2.2km (and some) - 14/17, 68/81 752/1082
T1: 59:12
Bike: 7:19:52 for 114km and 3500m up - 15/17, 71/81 804/1082
T2: 2:54
Run: 2:21:49 for 21km and 395m up - 11/17, 66/81, 585/1082
Alpe d'Huez 1:50:10 14/17, 69/73 766/1082
Other splits:
Grand Serre - 12.5km/hr (budgeted 12)
Col du Malisol - 9.8km/hr (budgeted 14)
Col d'Ornon - 12.6km/hr (budgeted 14)
Alpe d'Huez - 8.5km/hr (budgeted 9)
General Descents - 34.8km/hr plus Ornon - 42.7 (budgeted 30)
Lessons learned:
Other splits:
Grand Serre - 12.5km/hr (budgeted 12)
Col du Malisol - 9.8km/hr (budgeted 14)
Col d'Ornon - 12.6km/hr (budgeted 14)
Alpe d'Huez - 8.5km/hr (budgeted 9)
General Descents - 34.8km/hr plus Ornon - 42.7 (budgeted 30)
Lessons learned:
- Be in the water 5 mins early to start the swim
- Get faster on the bike hills sooner
- Take less nosebag food. Tuna still works. Take some crisps for the run.
