The Celtman 2018

PTC club member and coach gives a personal account of The Celtman Extreme Triathlon 2018.

The Celtman Extreme Triathlon has a fierce reputation in Scottish outdoor circles, so finding myself wheeling my bike through the West highland town of Shieldaig at 3am was a very surreal experience. I’d joined Perth Triathlon Club just three years before and never expected to be at the start line of this race so soon in my triathlon career. But having visited Torridon so often for hill trips, something about this race kept nagging at me to enter it. I remember the sinking feeling in my stomach, seven months ago, when I got the email to say I that I had a place; the nerves, the excitement, the self doubt, the thought of all that training. Those same nerves were returning now as I donned my wetsuit outside the local pub!

Any aspiring bike thieves should clear out mid-June in their calendar and head North, as the whole street was lined with the most phenomenal bikes pushed by varying degrees of nervous athletes. The atmosphere was one of excitement, and apprehension as everyone racked their bikes, said goodbye to their support and headed to the bus for the 10min journey to the startline. Once there, weirdly things started to calm down! The sky was a beautiful sunrise red, the water was still, the athletes were chatting on the grass, the band was playing and the atmosphere was amazing. I felt much better knowing I had a fellow PTC club member in the race with me, and me and Graeme chatted about what was to come. Then the time came to enter the water. Not as cold as I was expecting but certainly chillier than Loch Ore or Clunie; I saw my first jellyfish on the paddle out to the startline so that got that out of the way! The marshal kept us floating there for a minute before blowing the airhorn and we were off!

The start was like all mass starts: noisy, tense and a battle for space. But everyone was on their best behaviour and there was a definite feeling of comradery, that we were all in this together. No elbows, kicks or slaps, just some light jostling as everyone found their rhythm. Once settled down, the swim was the most glorious I’d ever experienced. The sun was now rising fully over the hills to my left and I was using the Torridon mountains as my sighting points – Amazing! The jellyfish were numerous but not really a problem and after a while they became almost normal! Except the brown ones, stay away from them I’d been warned many times! As we rounded Shieldaig Island the sun was beaming down on the village and I could see the fire and the crowds of people, and started to hear the band.

Exiting the water I was swiftly grabbed by Rachel and the rest of my support team and taken to my spot in transition. If you want a lesson in efficiency, watch the video, they had me fed, watered and changed and on my way in double quick time. The first minute on the bike is always my favourite part of a triathlon; transition is such a confusing mess of noise and procedure and all you want to do is race and not have to think. Out on the bike everything goes quiet and you can think about what just happened. The Celtman bike is nothing like that! As all the supporters follow their athletes round the bike course the roads are a noisy mass of support cars and bikes. But once out of the Glen things started to calm down and everyone found their rhythm. Things were going well for the first 50k but then the heavens opened and just didn’t stop for the rest of the race. For the final 150k of the bike I was soaked to the bone, cold, and struggling to do simple things like eat and drink as my fingers were so numb. I got a brief respite at the Dundonnell Hotel when my crew changed my clothes but that only lasted 10mins and I was wet again. As well as the rain, there was a stiff breeze in our faces for a good portion of the bike which was demoralising, watching your average speed slowly decrease. But the turn at Garve meant we had a tailwind for the final 40k which really lifted my spirits and I pushed on knowing that I was getting fresh clothes for the run at Kinlochewe.

Going into T2, my support team were 100% on it again, Ewan waiting in the wings to run, Ione getting my food ready and Rachel with the enviable job of changing me out of my manky bike clothes! It was as slick as ever and before I knew it me and Ewan were on the run course leaving T2 behind.

For the first few kms I felt good, much better than I expected but that probably has something to do with the fresh clothes. But there was something else on my mind now: the colour of a T-shirt! To most this will sound ridiculous but those who know, know how important the next 17kms of running are. There is a distinct cut-off of 11 hours to get to T2a and be allowed up the mountain high route, meaning you can claim your blue t-shirt. If you take more than 11 hours you are awarded a white t-shirt. Quite a cruel rule I think, but it’s not my race and I don’t make the rules. I had 2hours 15mins to run 17kms. Doesn’t sound too hard I know, but the route climbs 450m and this is after an hour of swimming and 200km of riding. I was doing the maths in my head as was worrying that I was behind by just a few minutes. This was really getting to me; where could I have saved time? Should I really have changed kit? Should I have been quicker up the hills? Should I have just peed while riding?!? Ewan my support runner was trying to keep me upbeat but I was starting to withdraw into myself and wasn’t responding or listening to him. All I could think of was to just keep going, make the cut off. The weather didn’t help, if anything things were just getting wetter and wetter; the midges were biting and I was getting colder and colder. Then we met a supporter who told us we had 4k to go to T2a; I looked at my watch and realised I had 40mins to make it there. I’d been miscalculating and we were actually well within time! This perked me right up and with the pressure off and we settled into a pace of 6min kilometres to arrive in T2a with 15mins to spare. Rachel, as ever, was fully focussed on getting me sorted and I got into fresh clothes, waterproofs and walking poles, preparing to hike up the mountain. Then we got the bad news that Mountain Rescue had closed the mountain to any more teams and everyone was being forced to run the low route. What did this mean? I asked Rachel, who told me that because we arrived within the cut off period, we’d still be awarded a blue t-shirt. I was slightly disappointed about not getting to go up the mountain as I was ready and prepared for it, however if MR say it’s closed we have to listen to them.

Once me and Ewan started down the road though, things got better: I had more energy, we were chatting & joking and we joined the trail with everyone else, safe in the knowledge that all we had to do was not break a leg and we would claim the most coveted t-shirt in Scottish Triathlon.

The low route is a misnomer! It’s a 18km route round the back of the mountain Liathach which climbs 500m. So while it wasn’t as hard as the steep pull up Beinn Eighe, there was still work to do. The path felt like a party though, everyone knew the end was in sight and despite the weather, people were in good spirits. We ran sections, walked sections and power walked sections and we continued to chat and joke about how terrible the conditions had been.

Jogging down the road, into Torridon and up to the finish line was much less emotional than I’d expected. I’d daydreamed about the finish countless times in the lead up to the race, but once there I was so soaking wet all I could think about was a fresh set of clothes! But cross the line I did and the first thing they do is hand you a beer……which I drank immediately! And after 14 hours and 11 minutes of racing, a beer has never tasted so good!

The race itself was pretty disgusting, the wet conditions made everything that much harder. But the experience of crossing the line, combined with the months of training meant when I finally pulled on the blue Celtman finisher’s t-shirt, I was grinning from ear to ear! My support team were unbelievable: Rachel and Ione were so focused and efficient that all I had to do was keep moving forward, and Ewan was my saviour on the run. He kept my spirts up, watered and fed me and made sure I got to the finish in one piece. I couldn’t have done it without them.

As well as my support team, my club has played a huge role in getting me over the line. Support messages from PTC club mates, help from coaches, finding training partners, having Joan, Colin & Lynn out on the course supporting; this all helped in keeping me going. I’m grateful to them all! - Andy