Drew Marlar (US) - Race Report

A few clicks on my mouse, several painful wire transfers and 10 months of training later, Bryan, Matthew and I were driving into Eidfjord, Norway to check in for this epic race.  The drive itself is intimidating - past glaciers and windy moonscapes into the depths of a steep canyon carved from thousands of years of waterfalls that flow into a deep and dark fjord and the ocean.  We wound our rental car through miles of dark tunnels at 10 percent grades hoping that this was not the bike course.  I said nervously (and repeated it several times) that there is just no way they would be taking us back up these hills and through these tunnels.  Right Matthew?  There's no way they would take us this way.  There is just no way.  No way.
 
Eidfjord is unbelievable.  The canyon walls are at least 5,000 feet steep and studded with huge waterfalls all around.  I felt so small, vulnerable and down-right scared.  I knew this race was going to be epic but I did not expect to be in such intimidating and dramatic surroundings.  Our hotel was right on the water on the edge of the fjord.  We stumbled around town for a few minutes and went to race check-in.  This scared me even more.  I walked up to a small table, signed the waiver and they handed me a small packet and said good luck.  No id check, arm bands, weigh in, transition bags or any of the other formalities I have experienced at other Ironman check-ins.  You signed up, you got here, here is you race sticker for your bike - simple.  This set the stage for how the race organizers approach this event.  No fanfare, no support, no medals - totally focused on the beauty and challenge of the course and the once in a lifetime opportunity to test yourself.
 
This is a supposed to be a traditional long course distance.  2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike and 26.2 mile marathon but the rain over the previous few days dumped a huge amount of snow melt into the fjord causing the water temperature to drop from 60 degrees to 47 overnight.  That is out of the zone of plausible temperatures so they moved the race another 6 miles down the fjord and back to 60 degree water temps.  This added another 12 miles to the bike and a new time to show up to board the car ferry - 2:30 am.  We grabbed a nervous dinner at 6 and made the last minute preparations.  I lay down for another sleepless pre-race night.  Awake all night and counting down until 1 am when I could get up for a big breakfast and a shower.  We were out of the hotel by 2 am and dropped off at the ferry a few minutes after that.  Bryan and Matthew drove ahead another 6 miles down the road to set up my bike gear in T1.  It was going to be a long day for them too and I was already starting to feel a little bit guilty and a whole lot selfish for asking them to crew for me for the next 13 to 14 hours.
 
I boarded the ferry at 2:30 am in my wetsuit, thick neoprene cap and goggles and found a nice spot on the upper deck to relax.  I met a few of my fellow racers and everyone was so encouraging and friendly but I was anxious.  I couldn't sit still so I wandered around out on the lower decks and watched as the ferry pulled out at 3:30 am.  The light was just starting to reveal the low clouds that hung just above the water.  I could barely see the steep canyon walls creeping by as the ferry slowly moved into position near the swim start.  It took us about 45 minutes before they stopped the engines and raised the huge gate.  We all lined up and I was in the front row.  When we were given the signal to start jumping at 4:45, I paused on the edge for a moment and soaked it in.  It was an exhilarating jump and I let out a huge "Whoo Hoo" and held onto my goggles.  As soon as I hit the water and bobbed back to the surface it struck me how dark everything was.  The water, the sky, the low clouds and my stupid shaded goggles!  You may think that you have planned everything just right and then you do something dumb like wear dark goggles for a 5 am swim start.  I could hardly see a thing and for sure could not make out the tiny blinking light on the first turn buoy almost 2 miles away.  I had one chance to fix this - swim on someone else's feet and hope that they know where they are going.  I glanced back at the ferry just as a remote controlled drone camera buzzed overhead and took pictures.  I was so happy to be right there and I knew that this was going to be a wonderful day.
 
The ferry horn sounded and we were off.  I found a group of 3 other guys that were swimming my pace and I stayed close to them and kept my head down as much as possible.  We settled into a nice steady rhythm that felt just below threshold.  I focused on keeping my shoulders relaxed and staying with this pace group.  The turn buoy stayed out of site for the next 30 minutes of the swim and when I finally did spot it we were too far to the left.  My swim group realized this too at the same time and we sprinted for a few minutes to get back in line with the course and then make the first turn.  In other ironman races they have course buoys set up along the route to keep you in line but that is not Norseman's style.  Dump 260 competitors into the middle of a dark fjord and point them in the general direction.  I loved the simplicity of all this and the faith that the race organizers put in the athletes.  We signed up for a hardcore race and they were delivering one right from the beginning.
 
After the first turn, I could feel a stronger current and I was bouncing a little on some medium chop.  Nothing too severe, just enough to keep me focused and working a little harder to stay on course.  The second buoy was just as hard to find and I sighted to the crowd standing on the shore.  None of us had a chance to recon the swim finish because of the last minute change so we had to feel our way into the shore.  I found a kayak support and he directed me to make a hard left and swim around a small jetty and then I spotted the take out point.  We were the lucky ones.  About that time, the winds picked up and made the course treacherous.  They extended the swim time but unfortunately had to pull 26 people out of the water before they finished.  A crushing early defeat for them.
 
I darted out of the water and stumbled through the short transition.  I saw Bryan cheering my name and walked right into Matthew somehow.  He simply took over.  Stripping my wetsuit and getting my race tank top, number, helmet, wind vest, arm warmers and shoes on me.  I was in such a daze.  The cold water left me really dizzy and I just stood there and let him get me ready while I stared up at that drone camera buzzing above us.  A quick pee was critical before I got on the bike and unfortunately for Matthew that was while he was dressing me.  I jumped on my bike and Matthew gave me push up the hill.
 
The first 12 miles were flat and fast.  It was a great chance to top off my fluids and get some nutrition in me.  I settled into a nice even pace and got comfortable on the bike.  Before I knew it I was at Eidfjord and this is where the fun began.  Our first climb was a 9 mile monster followed by another 7 miles of steady incline until you get to the plateau.  It was raining off and on but the hills kept me warm.  I hit the first steep 8-10% grade and my legs immediately responded.  I felt solid and strong.  I kept the gears easy and enjoyed spinning up through the canyon towards the Voeringfoss waterfall.  This scenery was the most beautiful that I had ever seen.  Think of cycling out of the Grand Canyon but it is covered in a thick blanket of evergreens, moss and beautiful whitewater rivers.  I was so lucky to be there and I let it all surround me.  I was truly in the moment and could not have been happier.
 
I rode through a few long tunnels and then I saw Bryan and Matthew there with water and more food.  It was prefect timing and I needed the extra supplies to get me up to the plateau.  The climb went by fast and the scenery changed dramatically.  The plateau is a moonscape.  A cold, mossy, rocky moonscape with incredible views of glaciers in the distance.  You can see for miles down the winding roads.  Bryan and Matthew would drive along with me for a second and take my order.  Sandwich, coke, water, gel, sustained energy, bars - whatever I needed would be waiting for me at their next safe pull off spot.  They were incredible and stopped about every 4 miles to hand off what I needed.  I couldn't thank them enough but I tried.  We smiled and joked along the route.  It really was turning out to be an awesome day.
 
The plateau was amazing but cold.  My feet and hands were frozen and I had to change gears with my palms.  I kept my cadence as fast as possible to warm up as much as I could but I was getting pelted with a few hard rain showers that kept me soaked.  The plateau section is super fast and that was a blast.  I enjoyed the great feeling of letting it all out a bit and taking advantage of all that that training.  I was starting to feel the effort setting in on this section and consciously made the decision to keep things under control.  I concentrated on listing to my legs – how much was too much pressure on the pedals.  I had another 100 miles to go on the bike and another 26.2 on the run and didn’t want to blow it this early.  I was staying focused on my nutrition and my stomach was staying intact.  I passed a few racers (mostly on the climbs) and would shoot them a crazy big grin and flash them the peace sign.
 
Off the plateau is a screaming descent into Geilo and the half way point on the bike.  It was raining pretty hard on this downhill section and it was a tough balance between speeding down at 35-40 mph and not ending up as a stain on the pavement.  I sat up a bit to air brake so I could to keep things under control.  The road was slick, wet and studded with mogul style bumps.  I hit several of those in a row in my aero bars and hoped for the best.  Water sloshed out of my bottles a bit but that was the worst of it.   
 
After Geilo I started a series of 4 more climbs.  The first 3 are steep but short - about 2-3 miles each.   My legs still felt fantastic and I really enjoyed sitting up and digging into the steady effort of the climb.  The views from the top of each pass were amazing and the sun was breaking through the clouds. In between the climbs were some great downhills and straight sections that allowed me to spin my legs out and recover for the next big effort.  The weather was making a radical change for the better and it felt so great to be warm again.  Matthew would park up ahead and run down the hill to meet me with fluids and nutrition.  The jokes were getting pretty good by this time and we were trading anecdotes about the other riders.  They were traveling with a pack of other support vehicles and everyone was having a blast.  One of the support guys was dressed as Santa Claus and Bryan got a good shot of Santa taking a pee break.
 
The last climb on the bike was a beast.  Think Hog Pen (if you know it) with a ton of switchbacks.  This was a steady 8% grade for about 4 miles.  Just as I started the climb a friendly Norwegian rider came up beside me and we worked the hill together and traded stories about the race so far.  He filled me in on the rest of the course and we offered each other gels and bars.  It made the next 15 minutes of pain fly by and we ascended to a beautiful lake area and then another 6 miles before we started our final descent into transition 2.  This was an incredible 18 mile drop to the valley floor and I let it rip.  The road was tight and curvy for the first 2 miles but then it became gentle turns as I screamed down the hill over 40 miles per hour.  I took this opportunity to take in more of the surroundings and it was so perfect on the back side of this valley.  The farms were lush and green and the picture perfect farm houses were tidy and painted deep reds.  Bryan and Matthew stayed behind me for a good piece of this and then raced ahead to set up for the run transition.
 
They were there waiting for me with my running gear all set to go.  A quick change and bathroom break and I was off on the run.  My first few steps told me that I had the chance to have a great run.  I felt bouncy and happy to be off the bike.  Running is my first true love in sport and I was happy to be in my home territory.
 
This is the part of the race that makes it famous.  The first 15 miles are flat and gorgeous along a lake.  I felt loose and relaxed on the run and kept my turnover steady and fast.  Matthew and Bryan were there for me every mile with coke and gel to keep me going.  The sun was shining, the lake was glimmering and I was having the time of my life.
 
After the first 4 miles of the run the effort of the day was coming on.  It wasn’t the huge crushing pain monster that I’ve felt in the past – just a heavy feeling that enveloped my whole body.  I was developing a nasty sharp pain on the bottom of my right foot pad and I was struggling to find a cadence that would give me any relief.  I just hoped that it didn’t go farther than this – I could deal with this stabbing sensation for the rest of the run but it had the makings of something worse.  Coke and gel were getting me through and I just focused on my breathing and fast cadence.  I was starting to run some of the guys down in front of me and this made it all worth it.   
 
At mile 12 you get the first glimpse of what lies ahead and it looks ridiculous.  Gaustatoppen is a scary huge mountain that is topped by a stark radio tower.  From the valley floor it looks impossible to climb.  At mile 15, I looked to the left and saw what looks like a paved ski slope.  After the final felt turn of the happy portion of this run I realized that this was no ski slope – this was the f***ing run course.  This is a series of 10% incline switchbacks that I knew would last for the next 11 miles.  I started to alternate running and walking at this point and trying to get as much nutrition in as possible.  Slowing down felt worse as my blood pressure would change and I would get really dizzy.  Glancing up at the top of that mountain made it worse – it just wasn’t getting any closer.  Every turn brought more switchbacks and it took a lot of effort not to get discouraged.  I had no idea what place I was in at that point and I was hoping that I was in the running to make the 160 person black t-shirt cut off (they only let the first 160 competitors up to the top of the mountain for the prized black shirt).  About this time, someone passed me and said that he was in 35th place when we started the climb.  Holy crap – I could crawl this thing and still make the t-shirt.  Wait a second, I could make top 40.  Top 40 now really meant something to me.  I had applied for an been chosen by the race organizers as one of the top 40 “elite” athletes for the race and now I wanted to prove that I really was in that category.  Alright, time to run up this thing.  This day was mine now.   
 
We got to the 21 mile mark and sailed through the checkpoint.  This is where they start pulling folks that will do an alternate route instead of going up mountain.  It was another mile to the mountain entrance and Matthew and Bryan went ahead to try to find parking at the trailhead.  This area was a cluster.  They had to reverse out of there and narrowly escaped disaster with the car (backing it up to within 1 inch of the edge of a steep drop off) but they recovered it and Matthew came sprinting up to meet me with our required backpacks containing food, water, warm clothes and a flashlight in case the weather turns bad on the last 4 mile climb up the mountain.
 
This is a cruel and difficult finish to a marathon.  The "trail" is really just a bunch of loose rock up steep ravines.  You alternate climbing over huge boulders to slipping on loose scree.  Matthew was guiding me from behind with instructions on where I should step next.  I kept looking up at the radio tower for encouragement but it seemed so far away.  I hadn't really suffered yet today but my time had come.  I had been moving as fast as possible for the last 12 hours and my body was so tired.  Not so much pain but just a complete drained feeling and the mountain climb was messing with my mind.  I talked to myself quietly - "you can do this . . . The finish is going to happen . . . The goal is just ahead."  My emotions started to sway wildly.  I was okay one second and then thought I was going to cry.  I felt overwhelming feelings of guilt for asking Bryan and Matthew to go through this with me.  I slipped a few times and Matthew helped me rebalance.  Thank god for that bag of potato chips.
 
Okay, this isn’t going to sound very cool but what really got me to the top of that mountain was ¾ of a bag of sea salt and black pepper potato chips.  Matthew pulled out the bag and I shoved huge fistfuls of chips into my mouth over and over.  Grease and salt were all over my hands and face as I tried to keep a good pace while I replenished my salt.  It worked.  I started to feel a little better (and the chips were awesome).  Now, this isn’t going to look very cool on the last few miles of your next IM race but all’s fair at Norseman and these chips saved my life.  
 
Things were shutting down and I was focused on one thing - getting to that finish line and looking out at the valley below.  The rocks got bigger and steeper and the way seemed so far still.  Glancing back just made me dizzy and unbalanced.  Finally we came to the last few narrow rock formations near the finish line and Matthew told me to go take this and that I deserved this finish.  I needed to hear that so bad right then.  The last few steps were some of the toughest I’ve taken but I crossed that timing pad in 13:42 and in 39th place.  A few claps from the race volunteers and then we were herded into the warm hut on the mountain.  We grabbed some food and I collapsed on a bench.
 
I couldn't hold it in and I let my head fall back and tears ran down my cheeks.  The whole point of these things is to prove how tough you are but here I was at the finish and crying.  I was overwhelmed with gratitude to Bryan and Matthew and everything they did for me.   My perfect health and unbelievable support from my Dynamo teammates cheering me on back in Atlanta.  I was sitting on the top of Norway after a perfect day of racing and I was humbled and thankful.  I opened my eyes and one of the race officials was standing there congratulating me.  He was a tough looking Norwegian with a sunburned face and a long red beard.  He saw what I was feeling and he did an amazing thing - he just stood there for a moment in silence and shared that with me.  It was maybe only 10 seconds but it was the most powerful part of my day.  He didn't need to say a word.  He had done the same many times before and stood there with a knowing smile on his face.
 
It took us a couple of hours to rendezvous with Bryan and get checked into our ski hut.  We had a late dinner at the nearby ski lodge and laughed about all the crazy things we had seen all day.  It was a perfect trip and the race of a lifetime.  I picked up my black finishers shirt the next morning and posed for the Norseman group photo.  I will forever be thankful to Bryan and Matthew for everything they did on race day and to all of my teammates back at Dynamo for their support.  Elizabeth, Elle and William are so wonderful for allowing me to steal Matthew for the week.  He is a generous and happy soul and I know it must be hard to spend this time apart.
 
You can check out the web-site at www.nxtri.com but I warn you that they simply don’t capture the difficulty or beauty of this course in any route description or set of photos.  It was much harder than I thought but was also much more satisfying than I ever expected it to be.  Put this one on your bucket list as a crew member or a racer – it is an amazing experience.