Good Fighters

me with my brother Rod, sister-in-law Jess and my beloved Cannondale Scalpel

My preparation this year had been less than ideal - Andy and I had planned to use the Intermontane Challenge in Canada as a week-long overload session at the beginning of the month, but unfortunately that race turned out to be a scam, and we left after just three days of somewhat patchy racing*. I’ve been stringing together some big training rides on the weekends since then, in an effort to get the big miles and high intensity needed for marathon racing into my legs. I arrived in Graz in pretty good shape nonetheless, happy to be with my family, wearing my national kit, and being part of the action.

Arriving with just one day to spare before the race, I was only able to pre-ride the first big road climb, a 28% lung buster. I met up briefly with Sally Bigham of Great Britain, who had been there a few days earlier, and had been able to pre-ride some of the descents. Sal seemed pretty daunted by some of the steep, rocky sections, but I wasn’t too worried - not because I’m a brilliant technical rider, but because I know I can handle most terrain well enough, and being so small I can keep my balance on steep sections pretty well. In fact, I was hoping for rain to raise the challenge a bit!

I got my wish - it rained solidly all of Saturday afternoon and into Saturday night. I decided to leave the semi-slick Panaracer Razer XC on the back to keep things rolling on the long tarmac and fire road sections, but swapped to a Panaracer MACH SK up front, for a bit more bite around the edges.

Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny. Rod and Jess were up early, along with their German friend Marcus, who was racing in one of the support races early in the day. They left our apartment about 8am, leaving Andy and I to have a leisurely breakfast before I rode up to the venue on my bike, while Andy drove straight to the first feed zone.

There are always three main races at the Marathon Worlds - the men, the women and the feed zone race. Supporters have to drive at crazy speed through winding back roads to get to the next feed zone before the riders come through, battling for parking spaces and toting wheels and bottles up hill and down dale. Andy is an elite competitor at this discipline, and he skipped the chaos at the startline to get head start on the other team cars.

I had bib number 40, which put me pretty much at the back of the grid, but I was not at all concerned about that. The first road climb would take a good 20 minutes and I knew that an honest pecking order would quickly be established before there would be any need to fight over the singletrack. The gun went, and the start up the 2km flat section was a gentle warm-up before the climb. I worked my way steadily up through the pack as the road wound uphill, and found my rhythm, not wanted to tear my legs up when I knew the really big climbs were still to come.

The first descent went from muddy and rooty to fast forest track, and I made up a few more places. We then had to negotiate a fairly flat section through country roads and villages, and it was on a long road section that my friend Mel Spath, riding for Germany, came blasting past. “Go on Mel” I shouted. “Come on then Jenn” she shouted back, and I accelerated onto her wheel. We worked together and picked up the pace.

Feed Zone 1 was chaos. Riding up, it looked like a big unruly mob, arms waving and bottles flying, with no obvious route through, other than simply plunging into the middle of it all. Luckily I had Andy, standing 6′4″ with the longest arms in NATO, and I spotted him easily and grabbed my bottle and Powergel.

We soon started climbing again, gently up the tarmac at first, then on to steep mud and slipperly roots. I felt good and climbed well, picking my front wheel easily over the roots. I even felt like I was floating, which was nice, but I realised it probably wasn’t a good thing and had another gel. I then got my first taste of the proper descents, a very steep, slippery and rocky section, that was partly washed away down the bank. I picked through it pretty quickly and popped back out onto the road, not too far from Feed Zone 3 (FZ2 was on a men-only section). FZ3 was much more civilised, as the men’s race was still out on the extra loop and those support crews were still out at FZ2. Rodney was there with my bottle and gel, and I grabbed some extra water as well. It was hot, and I was starting to rue my decision to use small, 500ml bottles.

I’d pulled away from Mel up the steep climbs, but she appeared behind me again as I rode up the rolling tarmac section out of FZ3. It was as though she had attached a rubber band to my saddle, she just kept bouncing back. I turned in the saddle and accused her of as much. She smiled and said; “you’re my target. There’s a bullseye on your back!” I replied that I was glad of the company, and I was. Marathon racing is much easier, both physically and mentally, if you can stick with a group.

More fire road climbing, steadier this time, up and up to FZ4. The men finally caught us just before FZ4, and we were once more plunged into chaos as we rode up what I knew to be a tarmac path, although I couldn’t see anything but a sea of people. The crowd was at least 50 metres long, and most the people were looking over my head for the approaching men - they simply didn’t see me, and I had to shout myself hoarse to get through. An excited teenager ran straight into me, and I had to jam on the brakes to keep from knocking him down.

I finally got through FZ4, feeling slightly battered, and the trail went suddenly quiet again. This was the big climb up to the Schöckl Bergstation at 1438 metres, and I was feeling good for it. The track was steep and rocky, and technical enough to distract from the magnitude of the climb. I was enjoying it, and now starting to make up much more time, catching riders I hadn’t seen since the start line. Up, up and more up, it must have been at least 40 minutes of solid climbing. Finally I got to the top, and the trail turned sharply down, the kind of descent where hesitating isn’t an option, it was just hang back over the rear wheel, look up and hold on. I knew the race was far from over, but I just needed to get to FZ5. It was hot, I was thirsty and I’d long since drained my bottle. Luckily the top section had a cool breeze, and I sucked in the fresh mountain air in lieu of water.