More Ironman success with Matt Rutherford clocking up his 3rd Ironman finish and new swim PB along the way.
He can’t celebrate his success for too long as he’ll be on the start line at Ironman UK in Bolton in just a few weeks time!
Ten months on from my last Ironman outing in Ireland, I was feeling fairly relaxed for Ironman number 3 in Hamburg. This one would be different as this time I wasn’t alone. With Dani taking part for her first full Ironman, I was slightly more at ease, thinking that Dani would surely be more nervous than me.
We arrived in Hamburg on the Thursday with enough time left that day to register and spend a small fortune in the merchandise tent. Registration was stress free with no queue, which meant Dani and I had numbers next to each other and we’d be racking our bikes side by side. My first Ironman was made a better experience due to the friends who were there with me, so I was happy I could be part of this day with Dani.
Apart from the Ironman village outside city hall, you’d have no idea the city was about to host the Ironman European championship. No bells, whistles, signs and posters like the small town of Youghal in Cork last summer. Plenty of people were out running at all hours, and lots of commuters on bikes. If you found yourself walking into a cycle lane, you’d soon have a hamburger whizzing past you. And not the tasty kind.
We spent the days leading to the race checking out the swim and run routes. We also did some exploring and visited a WW2 museum in the crypt of Hamburg’s very own ‘bombed out church’. After Coventry was heavily bombed in the war, the allies retaliated by destroying nearly all of Hamburg. Hitler then held a remembrance parade in front of the city hall, currently where the red carpet was laid out leading to the finish arch. Not relevant to Ironman, but it’s nice to learn something about the local history and culture.
The 0400 alarm was snoozed. I rolled out of bed at 0410. Morning stretches have been a new part of my life in recent months. I’ll try anything to limit injuries and they seem to work most of the time. All the usual morning admin completed and we were out the door for our 2 mile walk to transition, only 10mins behind schedule.
Final bike preparations, vaseline applied, and a last visit to the portaloo done. Wetsuits on and in the queue to drop off our bags for after the race. I would be heading for the swim start pen for 1:05-1:15 (aiming to beat my Ireland PB of 1:09), and Dani was going to start in the next pen along (1:15-1:25).
Amongst the frenzy of supporters and people in wetsuits wondering around, we found my pen. I was familiar with the pen layout because I read the athlete guide, so I knew which side Dani’s pen would be on. A quick kiss goodbye and a ‘good luck’, I watched as Dani disappeared back into the frenzy – in the wrong direction. The only other pen in that direction was the pro pen. Surely Dani would realise and make her way back to her own pen? I knew Dani would be alright, so I made my way down towards the edge of my pen to get a good spot to watch the pro men start.
The pro men started at 0615 to the sound of Guns ‘n’ Roses Welcome to the Jungle. The excitement soon settled, as the time approached 0700. I was feeling calm though, so the wait probably helped. People had been filtering through the start funnel since 0620, separated by 3 seconds. Finally, it was my turn on the conveyor belt.
The swim was in a lake, which was calm and warm with a slightly muddy taste in the water. Given the amount of ducks and swans, I was happy that was all I could taste. I was feeling good and seemed to be over taking a lot of people. This was a challenge as we were swimming into the rising sun. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t swim into people. I followed the stream of swimmers as I couldn’t see the buoys. After reaching the furthest point of the route, the swim seemed to pass by quickly. Still feeling good, overtaking people and fuelled by Dan Thompson gloating a few days earlier that his fastest time was 1:08, I wanted that PB. After squeezing between a group of swimmers under the last bridge, the exit ramp was in sight. As I took my last stroke, a race marshal grabbed my hand in the water and pulled me to my feet. ‘Danke’, I clicked the button on my watch and lifted my goggles up to see my swim time. 1:07. Good job.
I ran into transition like a child running into the living room on Christmas Day. Absolutely buzzing. I grabbed my bag with my bike kit and started wiggling out of my wetsuit. I looked up to see a smiling Dani skipping into transition. Confused, I said ‘What are you doing here!?, I just swam a PB!’ While getting changed Dani told me about how she found the pro swim pen and started to make her way back where she walked into a pen. Not only was this my pen, but Dani had actually found herself further up the queue and started her swim 10 minutes before me. I apologised for potentially swimming over her, and ran off for a head start on the bike leg.
Transition was just short of half a mile long, needless to say I didn’t run all of it. Once out on the course I was comfortable and feeling good. There weren’t many spectators around the city, so it wasn’t surprising that the country roads were very quiet. The course is known for being flat and fast, so I had made a decision about 4 weeks ago to take my TT bike. This might seem an obvious choice, but I’ve only ever used it for shorter courses as I’ve been worried it would get uncomfortable on a long course. A 70 mile ride 3 weeks ago confirmed my decision. Out on the course, I was holding a steady pace between 19-22 mph, so far so good.
About 25 miles into the ride there were flashing blue lights and a lot of emergency vehicles. Police were signalling us to stop and to detour off the road, carrying our bikes up a grass verge and along side the road for about 200m. Nobody knew what had happened, but it was clear someone had been seriously injured. We joined the road and continued the ride. Soon after the turn around point I passed Dani who seemed to be in good spirits and riding well. I was approaching an aid station at 40 miles with an empty water bottle. My plan was to exchange it for another water bottle, but I still had my second bottle which was full of electrolyte drink.
Arriving into the aid station, I threw my empty water bottle into the skip like a pro. I squeezed my brakes and targeted a German teenage boy presenting a water bottle. That one will do I thought. In an instant, I reached out and got a good grip on the bottle. Unfortunately, the boy also had a good grip and I was going too fast to correct my over compensated steering. Nothing happened in slow motion. I Jack-knifed my bike, pulling the front wheel sharply to the left. I summersaulted over the handle bars, landing first on my right shoulder, then elbow, then sliding to a stop on my right hip. I looked up to see 2 cyclists pass me without any problems. With more cyclists approaching, I got up to my feet and pulled my bike off the road.
Two of the German boys who had been handing out bottles came to my aid and started checking over my bike while I walked off the pain. Some of the adults asked me if I wanted an ambulance. ‘No, danke’, I was more worried about my bike. It dawned on me that if it was badly damaged then my race would be over. I would be devastated. And stranded at nearly the furthest point of the bike course. The boys helped me check my gears and straighten the front wheel, all good to go. Only problem now was that one of my bottle cages and snapped off, meaning that I could only carry one water bottle for the remaining 70 miles. I’d just have to ration my supplies.
The rest of the ride was thankfully uneventful. Several pros flew past me and I passed by Dani later on after another turn around point. The previous site with emergency vehicles was clear on the second lap. I felt like I was dropping off the pace as the second half of the ride went on. There wasn’t much relief from the afternoon sun. I made it back to transition and racked my bike after 6 hours 11 minutes – not the PB I wanted. Like nearly everyone else, I walked the half mile to my run bag. I took my time changing my shoes, I felt like baggage. I probably hadn’t eaten enough. I was having flashbacks from my race in Ireland last summer. I had to motivate myself to get out onto the run course and get stuck into the feed stations.
Strangely enough, once I started running I began to feel better. Or maybe that was because I was eating food again. Apple slices were my food of choice. My plan was to run at 9 minute per mile pace and walk through the feed stations. This was going well initially, but after about 10 miles my pace started to drop and I was feeling rough again. There were several turn around points on the run route, and I was starting to see a lot more of Dani. She was gaining on me and I knew my pace was getting slower. I also knew Dani could maintain her pace, while I have a track record of fading away on hot runs. I held her off for as long as I could, and eventually she caught up to me with about 4 miles remaining. It was nice to have a chat and share our feelings of suffering. We stuck together for about a mile, but I wasn’t feeling great and had to drop back. Dani was mostly within my sights and I’m glad she had the finish line to herself. I finished the run in 4 hours and 26 minutes, my overall time was 12 hours and 7 minutes.
Dani waited for me just past the finish line. We both felt awful and stumbled into the athlete buffet. We ate out of necessity rather than celebration. Once able, we made our way back to the apartment to start the recovery process, happy that the race was over with some good memories made and lessons learnt.
