Just Keep Moving On
It's 3am and my alarm beeps loudly. I switch it off, take a moment to open my eyes, and crawl out of bed. It's race day. Actually, I've been hesitating to call it a 'race' - for me it is an event, an adventure, a challenge to get myself to the finish line.
Long Post Alert! This is my story of how the Celtman Solo Point Five 2023 panned out for me. If you have a short attention span - cut to the end - if not, read on and I hope as well as helping me reflect on the day, it will give a flavour of how it felt to go through the experience.
Swim round an island, bike round a peninsula, and run round a mountain. That's all (!) I need to do.
Bike racked, GPS tracker collected, T2 bag dropped off (I'll see that again later in the day), T1 set up, wetsuit donned, hugs exchanged with friends also toeing the start line...
I drop into the water and swap a few words with Rich, the kayaker forming one end of the start line, and Paul - race director- counts us down. 3...2...1... and we're off.
I already know that as the gun goes, the majority of people will swim away from me and I will be left at the back of the group - but as it happens, it's hard to resist feeling intimidated. I give myself a little talking to - the first of many over the next ten hours. Let them go... swim your own swim. Most people will head wide of the island - I've recced it many times and know my line, and I fight in my head to stick to my plan.
I swim breaststroke for most of the distance. Although I've learned to swim front crawl over the last year and built up my endurance, I know that my breaststroke is still significantly faster - and I get a nice little surprise when I overtake one or two people along the way.
There are plenty of jellyfish along my route, and I do my best to focus on good swim technique and looking at the jellies & seaweed to pass the time. All of a sudden it seems, I'm passing the top of the island and turn in to face the jetty. I can see the famous Celtman fire-pots now, marking the swim exit. I've been alternating some front crawl every once in a while just to give my muscles a break, and try to make sure I stay heading dead straight towards the pots.
I'm nearing the jetty now, and helping hands beckon me up out of the water. It takes me a minute to steady myself... I've swum my fastest lap of the island yet.
Into T1, and I'm not last! Another competitor is shepherded past me with a foil blanket around their shoulders - they must have become too cold in the 14 degree water.
I strip off my wetsuit, pour fresh water over myself to wash off the salt, stuff a bite of food into my mouth and kit up in my bike gear... Over the mount line, clip in, and up the hill onto the bike course.
I'm on very familiar ground here - I've ridden this first stretch of road numerous times in the last few weeks, and have learned where the landmarks are. I've come to really like it and in spite of the headwind, I enjoy getting my head down, hands on my tribars, and pushing just a little into the wind.
And then... the Bealach. As I push up the hill I overtake someone and I rarely see anyone else for the whole distance up the hill. This small section of road has been closed for the event, and and because of the spread of competitors and my place in the pack, it's almost as though it's been closed just for me. At one point I glance to my left to see a scene of almost indescribable beauty: the clouds clearing and sun glinting off the water-soaked cliffs, lighting up the glen below.
I'd planned in advance three places I could pause on my way up the Bealach na Ba climb: a one-minute stop in each place gives my body and mind just enough respite so I feel refreshed to carry on up what for me is a 75-minute climb. I've chosen three places where I know it's flat enough that I can stop, and then get started again, clipping into my cleats. I stick to the plan, and as I crest the hill my Garmin tells me I've ridden a PR for the climb. That will do nicely!
The descent is fast and windy, but I enjoy it as I always do - being heavy has it's advantages and I've learned to love descending!
A quick stop at the one support station on the 85km (2000m climbing) course for a water refill and to use the toilet - and I'm on up the coast road with a fabulous tail wind. I try to use that to my advantage, and eat & drink as I go. Before long, the coast road rollercoaster begins... the relentless up, down, up, down that catches most people out on the Applecross circuit.
I'm going well until...
Inverbain - the last 'real' hill on the coast road but still with a few short sharp pulls to go, and I start to get cramp. I have to work to prize my left leg apart and stop it stopping me. It's agony. I'm part way up a 14 degree climb and it's all I can do to keep going and not fall off the bike. I manage it, and keep going, but the cramp won't go away. I had been up on schedule for making the T2 cut off, but now I'm slowing down and losing time...
Eventually I turn left at the junction towards Torridon, and Celtman-crew friends are there cheering me as I pass the Shieldaig road end. I'm still on time to meet the cut-off.
Up the next hill though, and the cramp is still there. I can't get rid of it. I'm in pain, but keep pushing - I just need to keep moving to get to T2 by 11am.
The last hill - Balgy - and I just can't shake the cramp. I decide to walk the last section of the hill, to try and stretch it away.
I crest the top, get back on my bike, and bomb down the hill as fast as I can towards T2... there's a headwind though, and I'm on my bars for the last, flat section.
I roll into T2 exactly on the cut-off time. I know I'll be greeted by John Whittaker - and I also know how strict Celtman cut-off times can be. I'm scared he's going to tell me I have to stop...
John: "How do you feel?"
Me: "Umm, ok... I've had cramp since Inverbain... PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME STOP..."
John: "Ok, get going, but have a really good think on the way to the Beinn Alligin car park about whether you should carry on..."
I've run all of this route before, and know that the first section should feel relatively easy. I ran it just a week ago. But today, my legs still feel like they're seizing up, the remnants of cramp still in them. I set off running out of T2, but soon slow to a walk. I can't run at all. Can I really do this? I don't know... I'm crying as I head through the end of Torridon village, mulling over that question: should I carry on?
Will the cramp stop me descending? Once I get onto the hill section, there are no escape routes - this is a remote footpath in mountain terrain, and I need to know I can get to the end. There's a small up-down section on the way to the Beinn Alligin car park, and I use it to test my up-down muscles... they seem to work...
At the car park, Kirsty & Posy are there with a water refill, cups of coke, bananas and kind words. They encourage me to keep going, and Robin Downie (fresh from his 2nd place in Celtman the previous week) shows up with armfuls of trail markers, fulfilling his sweeper duties. He offers to run/walk with me... I don't want to talk to anyone at this stage.
My mind is made up though - I will keep going. As I set off up the track, things seem to loosen up and I start to move more freely. Eventually Robin catches me up, my mood has lifted, and we blether about mutual friends, Celtman, mutual interests and all things outdoors. It passes the time, and I realise I've not looked at my watch at all as we approach the top of the pass: a marshall with a box of rain-soaked Haribo greets us, and we begin the descent together.
I've mustered the energy to jog a few short sections on the climb, and although I feel slightly uncoordinated, I'm able to jog a little on the way down, too. I can hear Robin and the two marshalls we've collected chatting behind me, and their chat & energy keeps me moving.
Approaching the end of the hill track I can see people waiting... and bells start to clang. Jill & Dave are there waiting for me, and guess who... John! Again!
John: "We're going to make this your finish line, so you don't need to run up the road".
Me: "NO!! I want to finish!"
John: "You are finishing, but there's a horrible headwind, and you've done it, you don't need to run the road section"
Me: "But I want to do the whole course!"
Then a little voice in my head whispered "Get in the car"...
Ok, but you're letting me out at the junction. I need to cross that finish line...
If you look closely at the film, you can see me crying as I cross the line. All the months of work, the literal blood, sweat and tears, came pouring out. I was the last placed finisher, but nine people either retired or timed out behind me. Out of 216 original entrants, 153 made it to the start line... I was 144th to cross the finish line.
It was an epic day, a huge learning curve for me, and the hardest one-day event I've done. Talking to others who also completed it, lots of folk got cramp. Whether that's because of the heat, or just the nature of the course- or something else, who knows. I managed my way through it though, and even though it cost me some time, it didn't cost me my place on the finishers list.
I've loved building up to the event, the training sessions and adventures, and the experiences and friendships I've made along the way will stay with me for a long time to come. I owe a massive debt of gratitude to lots of people - these things are never really a solo endeavour, even if it's a Solo event on the day. To my friends on Zwift who've made me a stronger cyclist; to Jill for swimming through the winter with me and helping me with her vast triathlon experience; to Ruairidh & Hazel at Shieldaig campsite for making us so welcome on our many recce trips... but most of all to Mark (and of course Riof too), who has literally picked up the slack for me, encouraged me, and kept me going right to the finish line: I absolutely couldn't have done it without them.
So what's next?
Well, I've entered a couple more triathlons this year, and a couple of swim events: the Snowman standard distance tri, in North Wales, Craggy Island tri, on Kerrera in October; and the Go Swim Loch Tay, Lomond & Morlich; oh- and the Tour o'the Borders cycle event. That will keep me going for the rest of this summer along with plenty of adventures: some bikepacking, some swim packing, some running adventures...
And for next year?
Well, I'm going to have a shot at going Long...
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