I SURVIVED!! - Race report

Where: Torridon/Shieldaig, Scotland
When: 23rd June 2012
Organiser: Celtman Extreme Triathlon http://www.cxtri.com (Durty Events http://www.durtyevents.com)
Course Details: Linear swim from one side of Loch Torridon circumnavigate a small island then head into Shieldaig, Very hilly bike inland past Torridon then heading out to the coast, follwing the coast for a while before heading back inland and looping back in to Torridon. Run, 2 options - 12 hour cut off at 13 mile point meant a high level run up Beinne Eigh, after the 12 hour mark there was a 'low level' course.
Distances:3.8km swim, 200km bike, 42km run
Marshalling: Excellent throughout! Due to the nature of this event you didn't really want too many but at aid stations (for 1st part of run only) major junctions (2 only) and at strategical points along the mountain there were enough folks doing a stirling job. particularly those on the mountain!
Facilities: Race HQ at Torridon Community Centre. 3 well stocked aid stations on 1st section of run (water, chocolates, cake, pretzls energy bars and bananas). Portaloos at T2 & T2a.
Technical: Race was timed using 'dibbers'...can't quite remember what the system was called but similar to those used on Mountain Marathons etc.(sportsident maybe??)
Freebies: Post Race Buffet (soup, pasta, garlic bread, salad, tea and coffee) and finishers T-shirt (Blue for high level route, White for low level route), car sticker!

My Race

Logistically this race was always going to be difficult and seeing as the whole family were coming (I'd turned it into the opportunity for a family holiday) it seemed military in it's organising! It meant packing up the car 2 days before and then leaving for Shieldaig at 3am on 22nd. Registration was between 12pm and 2pm on that day...we arrived at 2.15pm! Luckily they let me register no problems. We stayed for the race briefing at 3pm which in itself was amusing as there were no chairs in the hall so folks came in and sat on the floor in rows, a la primary school stylee! What followed was some good information and some good banter between competitors and organisers. Those competitors looked gnarly...I was out of my depth! By this time I was beyond shattered and Andy Butler had arrived after an equally long drive so we headed to Shieldaig, settled in to our respective B&B's (Bracken B&B, recomended!) and then after having a meal, fish and chips obviously, and a pint of local beer it was time for beddy byes!


Loch Torridon from Shieldaig. We came around the right side of this island as we look at it from the far side of the loch

Race day morning, having been awoken by crying child at midnight, I got up pretty quickly at 3am! (I was worried about this bit!) and was shocked to see that my eldest son, Michael, and eldest daughter, Amy, had both also got up to see me off. I was a bit choked by this. So in what seemed like a second I'd racked up, had breakfast and was being told it's 4am - time to get on the bus (they had a bus taking competitors from Shieldaig to the far side of the Loch for the swim start). Up until now I'd been pretty calm about the whole thing but sat on that bus, surrounded by proper triathletes the doubts started creeping in...
At the far side of the loch the event of it all started. Both the get out point at Shieldaig and the get in point had been identified with a runway of lit beacons flickering in the wind. To our left there was a Celtman symbol hanging from a frame which was lit as well. To lend the event even more atmosphere from no where the sounds of bagpipes started in this ampitheater in the hills providing a stunning, and I mean stunning, start to this soon to be iconic race. I had goosebumps. I must have looked overwhelmed as the film crew from BBC Scotland came over and interviewed me, starting the interview with "If you don't mind me saying you look a wee bit anxious?" f*ck knows what I said to them but I babbled for a bit before they went on their way leaving me to the pre-swim brief. The temperature for the swim was cold and so they decided to cut the loop of the 1st island which took it to probably a 2 mile swim?

So that was it, I was in the water floating with the rest of these racers thinking no matter what happens I'm here. At the start. At the 1st EVER Celtman and the weather couldn't be better. This is going to be an epic day.


Dag Oliver's pic, 'borrowed' from the Celtman FB page

HONK! off went the klaxon and the swim started through the darkness and into the unknown. I was really worried about the swim because my shoulder is still buggered and it seems when I try front crawl it just aggrevates it and makes biking difficult on long rides so I'd decided I was going to breast stroke all the way and save risking a sore shoulder for the bike section. having said that I hadn't really swam for about 6 months anyway! Silly Boy. As it turns out I was very happy with my choice. To me, this race was not about times, it was not about position it was about the experience, it was about pushing myself to my own limits. If I finished that was a bonus but this was about soaking it all in and testing myself in a very real way amongst the wonders of the environment. Those wonders showed themselves right off the bat. As well as the very atmospheric start not long into the swim I started noticing some white clouds in the deep and it didn't click for a while but as I continued there seemed to be more and more of these beautiful jellyfish with the 4 rings on their head looking like eyes I imagined they'd all come to see what all the fuss was about. A seal had done the very same thing at the get out and apparently was swimming about having a good old luck. Wish I'd seen that. The shear position of the swim, the location was stunning and I didn't think it could get any better until over my left should a golden gleam of light started peaking over the Mountains overlooking Torridon. This is where my choice of stroke was a master piece as I managed to swim AND watch the sunrise over the mountains with the light gradually increasing and bouncing and rippling off the water. It was soul enriching. The swim seemed to last forever and those islands just didn't seem to be getting closer and so I found myself in an almost trance like, rhythmic state. Just swimming, and in no time I was at the get out point. But could I get out? Hell no! I heard the marshals say keep swimming until the very end, it's easier to get out. "stand up"...erm....I'm terribly sorry chap...I don't seem to be able to work that one out. I was spaced. I took a moment on my knee to try and work things out but eventually managed to stand. "Dad!"...eh? wha? I could see a girl I recognised but wasn't sure so I waved and moved towards T1. It's all a bit of a blur but I found the bike because Claire and Andy where there shouting me and after a while I'd managed to dry off, get changed, next some Ibruprofen for my back and get on my bike. It took me a while to get my head together and know what was going on and by this time I'd climbed the first hill out the village and was on my way to Torridon. It was a very surreal experience!

I'm not sure if it's just me but when I looked at the course profile before the race the only thing I took notice of where the biggest hills. This first section just wasn't on my radar and it was a tough start. Jeez...what have I got myself into? The undulating ride was a constant throughout the entire 200km. about half way up the climb to Torridon my bloody chain came off and jammed itself between the ring and the frame...feck! Quick stop and try to free it up. It wasn't budging. Shit. Within a blink of an eye I was swarmed by midges all taking their lunch straight from my bare skin. Little buggers. So in a fit of frustration I yanked the chain and it came free! Quick sort and on I went but something wasn't right and something slipped making my right foot to fall to the bottom of the pedal stroke and my ankle twist out right but my shoe stayed in the cleat and I thought something had damaged. There was no way I was stopping with those bloody midges and my chain was still on so I just pedalled away hoping that wasn't the end of my race so early on. Luckily the hills took my mind of things and I'd soon forgotten all about it.

The plan was to meet Andy after the largest climb which was about the 60 mile mark and things were going pretty smoothly, managing to take a couple of folks early on. The route followed the coast and it wasn't long before I found myself daydreaming along the coastal road just soaking it all in. It wasn't until the route turned back inland that things started feeling a bit painful. I knew the bigger climbs were at this point but I also knew that my left knee was beginning to niggle. I also knew that I wasn't meeting Andy until about 60 miles. My water was now low so seeing as the big climb should be on me soon I finished it off and decided to dig deep, I'd soon be with Andy and replenish supplies. I'm not sure what happened but I got my head down and spun out the hills, knowing there was still a long way to go after the big climbs had finished, and watched my garmin tick off the 60 mile mark...then 65...then 70...where was Andy!? Things were getting serious now, my knee had got progressively worse, I had no water and was down to my last 2 bars. I started questioning whether I'd got my figures wrong when I saw another guys support vehicle ahead of me so I begged them for any spare water they may have. They apologised and said 'zey unly hav limonade' (Norweigien obviously) I thanked them and they gave me about 200ml. It was an absolute lifesaver! I don't know who they were but they helped me massively. I asked if there were anymore hills. "No, all downheel frum ere". Great! but...not so great...WHERE WAS ANDY!? it was the team realy transition all over again!! SO on I pedalled, 75miles...no Andy.....80 miles....no feckin Andy! That man was definitely getting 2 rounds of F*cks from me at this point! At the 80 mile mark you meet the main Ullapool road heading back to Inverness and I'd had about 20 miles of screaming pain, no water and was running low on bars and run out of gels. Things were at a tipping point when I saw a red car racing towards me.....ANDY!! I'd expected to let rip at him but I was so relieved I just explained how I was and that I needed water.
The psychological boost this gave me was immense and the next 20 miles was about the 20mph mark and I was able to zone out from the pain in my knee. The pain was now shooting from the outside of my left knee and up to my hip on EVERY downstroke. This was not good. about the 90 mile mark I stopped with Andy again and in the absence of Ibruprofen we managed to scavenge some anadin type tablets from another support crew. Didn't even touch the pain. Once I hit the 100mile mark and came off the main road heading inland the incline increased again, not nearly as much as earlier but pushing things on this knee for the past 40 miles had really taken it's toll and from that 100mile mark the pain reached levels I just didn't believe existed. It hurt. A lot.

I pushed and pushed with every stroke being like a red hot poker being jabbed into the knee. How much could I take? I don't think I can finish the race like this? I slowly limped towards Andy who was in a layby at the 110 mile mark. I couldn't do another 15 miles like the 10 I'd just done. It simply wasn't possible. At this point I'd started to feel nauseus. Andy assured me it was the gels but I'd not had one since about 70 miles opting for solid food I suspected it was the pain. When I got off the bike in that layby I was done, I'd been taken to my limits and was far, far over them. I couldn't take another mile with this knee. We had a chat and Andy said to me it's only me who knows when enough is enough but don't injure yourself for the sake of a race. And he's right, but this wasn't for the race this was for Bea (http://www.justgiving.com/celtman). HOW could I get back and say sorry, couldn't do it because of...pain!? FFS the poor girl has just gone through a terrible ordeal and is sitting in hospital improving. I was in a very, very dark place and I was quitting. I mean it, I just couldn't see it happening. I'd pushed on an injured knee for about 50 miles. I should have stopped 20 miles ago but I'd pushed on through. How could I continue? I wasn't going to. I looked at the bike. Felt my knee. felt the dispondancy of knowing I'd failed and I reached for my bike about to tell Andy "that's it, I'm done" but in a nanosecond, something changed. 15 miles? I'm going to let Bea down and everyone who took the time to sponsor me for 15...miles....? Am I f*ck! I don't care about injury I'm doing this bike and if I can't run then I can walk. I'm NOT letting that little girl down. Andy jumped on this change of heart and started breaking things down, 5 miles then the roundabout we'll re-assess then? Come on just 5 miles! This is were the real word 'support' came in. Awesome work dude.

Quick as a flash I was again on that bike and the agony was back with avengence. I thought the previous 10 miles were bad, they had nothing on the next 15! I'm not ashamed to admit but I literally broke into tears on that bike, tears of self pity and pain which turned slowly to tears of real anger and then they stopped only to be replaced with primeval screaming everytime the knee was used. Something I think some of the folks who overtook me must have been downright confused about! One guy passed me literally seconds after one such episode. "everything alright?" to which the rather lame and obviously untrue lie came out, "yeah mate, fine thanks" PMSL! At this point I'd picked up a jacket from Andy at the 5 mile marker and the heaven had opened which made the whole thing just that little bit...well...awkward. Slowly but surely I limped into T2 I watched the garmin clock 125 miles...eh 125? T2 should be here!? oh now...a cruel joke for Mickey boy...T2 was at the 126 mile point. Feckers.

Rolling into T2 I seemed to have come out of a tunnel and into the light. I was standing. I could feel a niggle in the knee but no pain on the scale of the past 60 miles or so. Quick change and loo stop and that was it. Decision made. I was doing this shit! The 1st section had aid stations on it approx 5 miles apart so after a walk up the first hill, mainly as a tester for the knee, I broke into a run and managed to get into the aid station fuel up and head out again. The Coulin pass section is a stunning half marathon in itself and I started to feel good about things once again. The dark times were over and I was enjoying tings again. OK I wasn't going to break any records with this walk/run strategy to try and save the knee but I was a far cry away from that point of reaching for the bike to give to Andy. I actually thought I was last but at one point I glanced over my shoulder and could see 2 people running in the far distance? How the hell was I not last??

Running along the road and towards T2a, the mountain checkpoint, I spotted a recognisable face in Andy all dressed and ready for a run! He'd come to meet me and run into T2a. Quick kit check at T2a and off we headed after a quick swig of Ironbru...well...when in Rome! The idea of doing the high level route had been superceded by the idea of just finishing a long time back and to be honest I was just happy to still be moving and we soon found ourselves taking the long walk up to the Col. Low level my arse! This is where Andy showed his lack of mountain experience which was a real shame as the situation of being on this terrain, coupled with no knee pain, had spurred me on and I was chomping at the bit. Once up on the Col we started running only for Andy to drop back whilst he negotiated the foreign terrain. This was Andy's first introduction to fell running! So, that was that from then on in this became a walk. now I don't want Andy to read this and think shit I let him down. This couldn't be further from the truth! I want to stress categorically that without Andy there would have been no race. Without Andy I would have crumbled on the bike. Without Andy this would just not have happened. Yeah, I may have finished in a faster time if he could have run over boulder fields but Yeah, i wouldn't have started if he hadn't been there to support from the begining. SO a massive thanks to you Andy, you made it possible and for that I owe you massively.

That walk through very diffcult terrain seemed to take forever and at this time legs, knees, ankles, back were all crying out in pain but we soon found ourselves on the road heading back to the finish. Luckily Claire phoned Andy and, realising where we were, headed from Shieldaig into Torridon. Rouding off that final corner and seeing Claire and the kids there was such a boost, such a welcome. I knew it was over. I KNEW I'd done it and I knew I'd achieved something very, very special. We ran together for the last few hundred metres and Andy insisted on hanging back and allowing me to finish and bask in the 'glory' of it all. I picked up and finished strong, I felt strong, and that was it. Done. Kisses and cuddle from the family. A well done and thanks to Andy and that was it, I could stop now. 17 hours of the widest range of experiences and emotions all in one day amongst the back drop of stunning scenery. The highs and lows the pain and emotion all invested in this extrordinary race which has world classic written all over it. And I did it. I was there at the very begining and I did it for Bea.

The problem is though, doing the low course and getting a white rather than blue t-shirt, is that......now I'm stuck with a tiny pang of disappointment and the thoughts of 'next year' already going around my thick skull.


The first ever gaggle of Celtmen







Blurred Pic of Blurry eyes!