After a 6 hour train trip zooming across the length of France we (Rachel Hall, Lance Keeson) arrived in Aix en Provence. After negotiating the ruck sacks and bike box from Eurostar, up and down escalators on the Paris metro and finally the TGV I was feeling pretty proud, but this was a temporary state as I soon realised when the TGV whizzed off into the distance that there are 3 train stations in Aix en Provence and we were 20 mins drive from the apartment. Fail!
The next morning was registration & briefing day. The main street in Provence had been transformed into an Ironman expo with kit and merchandise everywhere as we played spot the Ironman tattoo between panic attacks about Lance having a fit for race medical certificate and how I was going to get 20k from the start to the finish with no public transport or shuttles. The medical was avoided by a late BTF join up – we’ll come to the second bit later.
Registration was a very chilled out affair, no ID required, a few signatures and boom the rucksack & transition delights were in. Lance’s hands. The briefing was equally relaxed- a quick PowerPoint presentation of the athletes pack that we’d read a hundred times before we arrived. Our previous experience was Austria where the registration was uber strict & run like a military operation, with a face to face briefing by the race director, so this felt very different. With all that done it was time to explore and try not kill the credit card on new kit and to eat our body weight in lovely French bread and pastries.
Saturday morning was all about the prep mostly made up of watching Lance create piles and build his bike. It all went swimmingly for him as I tried to work out the puzzle of the swim to finish conundrum. I am still bamboozled as to why they didn’t chuck on a few buses; as I said, more on that later.
As morning ticked by it was time to get the bike & bags to the relevant transition areas. The run bag was an easy drop by a beautiful fountain in the middle of town, the bike was well, more French. The swim start and bike transition were 20km from the finish up in the hilly region- Peyrolles. The organisers had put on a shuttle that you booked pre arriving online to take the athletes, support and bike up to the start- ace! Then the reality struck as we queued up at our 13:30 allocated time. We got on a bus, the bikes got, well, ermm placed in a big truck. As I looked round I could see the horror as the athletes, who took so much care packing their bikes to get them here safe, saw them being bundled onto a truck with a flimsy sheet of bubble wrap in between. Oh well, there was nothing else for it, we all boarded and trundled up the hill. On arrival it was then hunt the bikes.
After a very British 10 minutes standing and waiting I went for a bit of a wander and eventually found where they had been unloaded. Everything was in one piece. Hooray! As Lance did his transition stuff I watch a few huffers and puffers as they waited not very patiently but most supporters were there to do just that support, and not just their loved ones but everyone – the atmosphere was warm and chatty.
Once bike transition stuff was done, it was time for a reckie of the lake and a quick swim. The surroundings were beautiful. As I watched the athletes don their wetsuits and take that big breath I wished I was joining them. The sun was out, the water was a deep blue, next time I will be!! Lance looked relaxed and strong as he did a few laps and worked out the sighting spots in the sun, then the find the bus adventure began and we eventually got back into town.
I’m not sure who is more nervous the night before me or Lance. Everything was ready, he had his bags packs and I had my supporters kit sorted. Sandwiches, water, map, camera and my very attractive supporter teva sandals! It’s hard work running around for 8hrs. It was an early get up-4.15am-the 3 alarms woke us up although I felt like I’d never been asleep. We were being shuttled to the start at 5am and after the organisation of registration day I was worried it would be a long wait in the chilly dark. I am pleased to say the buses were waiting, they filled up and left quickly as the party goers looked bemused as they wandered home. We zoomed up to the start, the bus was quiet as everyone grabbed some shut eye and the sun was still to rise. It was cold. Luckily I had lots of layers & my trusty down jacket although I should have chucked on some tracky bottoms over my shorts. Next time. There were a lot of cold people- athletes and supporters alike, shivering bodies everywhere. At 6am they opened transition and for me there was nothing more to do but take in the amazing scenery and be immensely proud of the Ozzie one for getting here in one piece and taking it on. Lance’s bike set up went to plan after a panic about a safety pin (in France your number MUST be secured in 3 places otherwise possible DNQ) and a bit of a hola to remind him to put his helmet in his bike bag as it was still on his head as he was about to wander out, he was set.
The lake was 800m from the bike transition up a hill, that’ll get the blood flowing to the legs post swim, so we wandered down as the kayakers and paddle boarders hit the water to ensure everyone was safe. The lake edge was covered with people of all ages, shapes and sizes who had committed, to come what may give it all they had over 70.3 miles. It was amazing. Lance donned his wetsuit for the warm up. All the little wetsuit tricks we have learnt at Shepperton lake came into play and were so valuable. The water was a lovely 18 degrees and the sun was rising in the sky as the European techno music made my ears itch. Glorious! After a coffee and crepe for me, he returned to shore relaxed and comfortable. Now the only thing left to do was race. They were the last wave and already 7 people from other waves had been assisted ou. Gulp. After a final go get em he headed down to the start and at 8.12am the scrum set off.
Now it was all about my plan. Due to the lack of transport there was no way I could get to see him on the bike, so it was all about being there for the swim, bike transition and run. At the swim start I screamed my head off with the other hundreds and had my obligatory cry, I think it’s the relief we made it. I watched them hit around 1000km and legged it up the hill to just before transition and shouted and clapped and cheered at every brilliant person that passed. At this point they had already been up 4 hours, swam 1.9k and run 800m- what had you done by 8.45am on Sunday? At about 35mins he appeared running up the hill all smiles and looking uber relaxed and strong. Phew!
Time for a hello, all okay, then a quick sprint, a jump of a ditch and a clamber over a fence to be ready for him out of transition. He came out and mounted in his bike and was off in a flash, accompanied by me shouting in my best French- Allez Allez!!! As he zoomed out of sight for the next 3 hours it was about finding my way into the village and then getting back to Aix. A great friend had offered to give me a lift to save me relying on taxi’s and draining my bank balance. Luckily my GCSE French paid off and I found Matt, who with the help of Sat Nav lady got me into town with loads of time to spare. Sunshine, coffee and croissant accompanied my run course planning. I worked out I could see him come into run transition then around 8 times on the run if did some running too!
The town was getting full of supporters, the atmosphere buzzing. The sun was hot. Really hot and bike and run course hilly. I was glad I donned the factor 30! As I watched the elites come in, a couple were a bit bloodied, I just hopped he hadn’t come off on hair pin bend and was drinking enough. I grabbed my phone, just in case they needed to dial that emergency contact number. Luckily it never rang.
After 3.15hrs he appeared on his bike, all smiles and looking strong. After lots of shouting and seeing him run what seemed the longest bike transition every he popped out. Yeah, it was the final leg, he had this. As he turned his first corner the very strict race referees shouted at him to turn his number round, after a bit of shouting he understood what he needed to do and off he went up the hilly cobbled stones. I legged it up the road and through some side streets to see him at about 4k. The course was 4, 5k runs. So 4 park runs, that’s all. He hadn’t done much running training so I knew it was going to be tough for him, time to be there, shouting and clapping and encouraging every step of that 20k. He had this. He still looked strong on the second lap and we always said the 3rd is the hardest- it was! the 4th is about bringing it home and as I left him with about 3k to go covered in sweat and white from salt I knew he was home, more tears! I needed to beat him to the finish so after a canter I squeezed into a finish line spot and shouted at every smiling finisher home and at 6hrs 42 mins there he was, in a whole heap of pain but smiling and he’d done it. He’d also put some Geelong 70.3 demons to bed.
He looked exhausted and hurting, not something I’m used to seeing, he is normally okay, it’s me post race that’s in a state. It had been a tough hang on with your finger nails hilly slog. After a bit of a stop, cramp and hydrate, it was time to hobble to get the bags and bike. It was boiling hot and until all the stuff is recovered from the variety of places it doesn’t really feel like you can celebrate. The bags were the easy bit, the bike and chip return meant a huge queue and lots of deep breaths. Finally we got everything together and shuffled home for cold showers, food and the slow realisation that Aix en Provence 70.3 Ironman was in the bag. Yippee! We both learnt some lessons about how important staying warm is in the morning & hydration. Stick to the fuel & food plan- Lance’s tummy is still protesting!
Next stop Austria for both of us as athletes! Hope the supporters are loud! Awesome efforts and an amazing weekend!
