THE EPIC FINAL POST OF...THE RUSTY IRONMAN...PART TWO

 

 

 

 

This time I enter the marina and exit knowing that from here on in I was in very familiar territory and about to enjoy some very beautiful scenery but first recover from what must have taxed my reserves dramatically. A final twist of irony before moving on from this hell. As I exit the water I see the woman next to me falter and appear to lose her legs and I quickly grab her arm and say, “Are you OK?”.

Greater love hath no man than a man astride a carbon road bike heading up the

Captain Cook Highway

with a fist full of vegemite sandwich, a pocket full of energy food and a few bad moments far behind – yeehaahhhh!!

As predicted, the uninitiated always smash themselves in the first 90k on the bike and push the biggest gear they can. Still not sure why they do it but I guess its somewhere in between adrenalin, bravado, testosterone, lack of planning and just plain stupidity.

Rusty settles into an even gear that adheres to the race plan and commences the routine that will be with me for the next 10 or so hours. The repeat timer on my Garmin is set for ten minutes and I know that its drink time and each third repeat is eat time – just like feeding a baby – regularity is the key.

All going great, a fantastic ride up the coast with absolutely stunning views to keep the mind occupied however at about 60k the huge toll that breast stroking over two kilometres can do to ones adductors makes its presence felt. I start to cramp on the inside leg but experience comes to the fore and I know I need to get in some more electrolytes, fast. I get the Endura down and stop for a short stretch off the bike and after a couple of minutes I am on the way again – cramps gone. Note: Even four weeks later I am still feeling tight there.

What can you say about riding that coast ride to Port Douglas and then returning to Cairns via the same route albeit after a couple of repeat hill climbs whilst negotiating the turn around back to Port Douglas the second time and then finally heading south to transition at Cairns.

Curses on you USM.

The ride course will be ‘challenging’ Fateful words but truer words not spoken. In the middle of an Ironman distance triathlon to be doing repeats of hills in high humidity and relative high temps in north Queensland was brutal. However, Rusty loves the bike and the inbuilt computer adjusts, eats, drinks and enjoys as one by one the steam train athletes ahead of me fall prey to their early aspirations to be time trialists – I love stupidity as it’s the great leveller (just after the Tazer….and capsicum spray…and maybe one or two pain compliance techniques I have shown the children).

Time and kilometres slip by and I gradually but knowingly get to the end of my favourite leg and commence to access the internal hard drive file located in the ‘PAIN’ folder under ‘RUN’. Last few kilometres start to see the competitors ahead of me on there way to Cairns shuffling along the roadside as I commence to prepare the hamstrings, thighs and glutes to become running muscles i.e. stand up off the saddle and stretch.

The chute into the transition is agog with faces searching for long lost family and friends and hoping that they return soon so the pilgrimage can shift to the FNQ Mecca of Cairns. No such adulation for the Rusty Ironman as his one and only has left hours previously due to transition difficulties for spectators so I must face the transition alone and summon the strength to start this final leg.

After briefly demonstrating to the crowd and officials how to dismount with flair and finesse I pause for a brief moment to head-bang to ACDC’s highway to hell blaring on the speakers – how appropriate.

“NUMBER 628 – SHOWING HE STILL HAS PLENTY LEFT FOR THE RUN”.

GOLD.

See next post for final leg and the conclusion of the Rusty Ironman