The World By Road

Those of you who have been around me over the course of the last six month know that I have not been my usual psychotic self when it comes to triathlon training. Usually when I am in Ironman mode, all I do is swim, bike, run, eat and sleep. This time around, I have had too much on my plate with planning the TWBR trip, trying to hold down my day job, enjoying life and when possible getting in some training. A lot of people told me I was going to get worked over here in Germany, but I wasn’t to worried about it: I was just coming over here to have a good time. 

That said, there were some other factors that came into play leading up to the race and on race day that sealed my fate and insured that I was going to be participating in a suffer-fest. About two days before the race, I caught some sort of stomach bug. Maybe it was the food, maybe it was the beer, but it prevented me from eating as much as I needed to in the few days before the race. The day before the race, I was up in the air about whether or not to even start given the condition of my stomach, but I had come a long way to throw in the towel. Race morning, I still could not hold much down but decided to get in the water anyway and actually ended up having a pretty descent swim  time of 1:02.  The first lap of the bike went well and I made it through in about 2:45 but by that point, had still not really eaten much of anything and was quickly putting myself into caloric debt at a rapid pace. About 80 miles into the bike, my heart-rate was through the roof and I was in a lot of discomfort. I was feeling bloated, yet at the same time, knew I was dehydrated and malnourished. I found a field and a spot of shade behind the Mavic support truck at the top of one of the tougher climbs and laid down to try and collect myself. I ended up collecting myself for about 45 minutes, but by that point, was able to choke down a powerbar and some energy drink. I finished off the bike in 6:23 including the 45 minute siesta which still was not that bad all things considered.

The thing that kept me going were the crowds on the bike course. Words really can’t do any justice to all of the people that were out there, and remained out there all day. Every little village we pedaled through must have had a thousand people lining the streets shouting "Hop! Hop! Hop!" The bigger towns had pulled out tables and benches to line the course and people were out partying to 80’s rock music, drinking and cheering on competitors. The climax was the short but steep climb leading up to the town of Solar. The infamous "Solarberg mile." I had seen pictures of it and had been told what to expect, but you really have no idea what you are about to ride into until you round the corner. Upon taking a sharp right after cruising back into Hilpoltstein, you are faced with a sea of people. The bottom of the hill has baracades holding back the crowd, but they end about a quarter of the way up the hill. At that point it is just people, 10-20 across, and stretched out the length of the hill. When faced with this sight, part of you cracks a grin and starts to feed off of the adrenaline being pumped into your viens by the crowd. The other part of you starts to panic because common sense tells you not to ride into the middle of this mass of people. As you make your way up the hill, people are cheering and screaming, waving flags and banners in your face and slapping you on the helmet, back and behind. You "ride the mile" twice and on the second lap, you hope you have enough left in your legs to make it through.

After getting off the bike, I knew my day was close to being done. My electrolyte balance was totally out of wack, I was dehydrated and hungry, yet could still not hold down anything besides sips of sports drink. I needed protein, but couldn’t stomach it. Yet, for some strange reason, I was still not going to quit. I would walk the whole F’in marathon if I had to, and for the most part, that is what I did. It took me a hair under 6 hours to walk out the remaining 26 miles. I was hurting pretty bad, but managed to finish. IT was a long day and 13 and a half hours is a long time to be out there and when it was all said and done,  so was I. Sunburned, shivering (in the 88 degree heat!) and exhaused I curled up in a ball under the grandstand by the finish line and went to sleep until someone came and got me. Looking back on all the chaos and discomfort, it was still worth it. The crowds, the atmosphere, even the pain. Ask anyone who has finished an Ironman and they will always tell you it was worth the pain. That 30 minutes of pure ecstacy upon completing the event is better that any drug out there. 

To view more pictures from my trip visit the following link.