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It's been said that Roth is the "best old race" and on Sunday 18th July 2010 I was one of the 3,500 lined up at the start to find out if it would live up to it's reputation.

Set in a small town just outside Nuremburg the Bavarian countryside was exactly how I'd imagined it, dotted with picturesque villages full of Gothic churches and monasteries linked together by flat winding roads that snaked through the farmland and disappeared into the tall forests of pine trees.
Germany had been experiencing a bit of a heat wave in the couple of weeks leading up to the race, and when I arrived on Thursday the mercury in the thermometer was practically boiling at 35 degrees! The heat in the marquis was almost unbearable at registration, but thankfully everything was running with typical German efficiency as I registered and collected my chip, numbers and race bags etc. Seeing as it was far too hot to be wandering round the expo I headed off to the nearest lake for a swim and a bit of relaxing in the sun. It was just as hot at the pasta party on Friday however this didn't put off the hordes of fanatical German triathletes who'd turned up to fill themselves will as much penne, gnocchi and spaghetti as they could stomach and catch a glimpse of the pro athletes. There excitement was building and the non-alcoholic beer (what's the point?) was flowing as they introduced the elites. No one was asking if Chrissie Wellington would win; they were far more interested in whether she could better the world record she set last year?

Saturday morning I picked up my two mates from the train station and we headed to T1 to rack the bike and have a look at the Main-Donau canal where I'd be swimming. And what a canal it was! The Germans certainly don't do anything half heartedly, and this was easily twice as wide as the Manchester ship canal, with enormous lock gates at either end that wouldn't have looked out of place holding back Sauron's army! With the bike racked we headed back to the hotel and spent the rest of the day chilling out, playing poker and praying for rain. At around 6 o'clock our prayers were answered, as the most almighty thunderstorm broke over the town. Torrential rain was accompanied by deafening thunder and flashes of lightning, and I tried not to worry too much that my shoes which had been racked with the bike were getting completely soaked! By 9pm it had rained itself out and the temperature had come right down, and I went to bed thankful for the change in weather.

Four o'clock the next morning came far too early, but I'd slept well and the hotel owners had got up especially early to make breakfast for me and the dozen or so other triathletes who were staying there. To be honest we were probably up and out a little early, as the traffic and difficulty parking that I'd expected to go hand in hand with such a big event didn't materialise; again probably due to the ever efficient Germans. So we were at the start in plenty of time to see the pros go off and I was pulling on my wetsuit just as Chrissie bolted through transition and into the changing tent, completely forgetting to pick up her bike bag on the way through! She must have lost at least 30 seconds going back for it but having only done one or two triathlons I suppose it's an easy mistake for her to make... The crowds at the start and T1 were just enormous and Chrissie easily got the loudest cheer she got as she headed out onto the bike. Meanwhile, I'd taken myself off to one side, trying hard to not get caught up in it all and just focusing on swimming the first couple of hundred meters....nothing else. I'd made a conscious effort to spend the day just thinking about what I had to do in the moment, and to put any thoughts of the bike or run to come right to the back of my mind.

Unlike most long distance tri's Roth has a wave start, mainly because the canal is a bit tight to get everyone in at once. This has obvious advantages, and definitely helped keep the adrenaline under control as by now I was well used to getting into the water with only a couple of hundred other starters. Sighting is much easier too, as you can see the banks when you breathe, and there were crowds of spectators lining the banks cheering the swimmers on. You don't get either of these bonuses heading off into the middle of lake, and it was a bit like swimming in a river only without the current.
The conditions that morning were perfect... slightly overcast, not a breath of wind and all the heat from the previous week had disappeared. There was a slight mist hanging over the water and the sun was just beginning to come up properly at 7:25am when the gun fired and off we went. I must have been a bit cautious when I filled in my predicted swim time on the entry form a year earlier, because it wasn't long before I found myself in a group of about 10 who were swimming away from the rest of the wave. I tagged myself on someone's feet and in what seemed like no time at all we'd reached the buoy at the far end of the course. I had a quick look at the watch and got a huge boost when I saw the time was just over 27 mins....! This wasn't quite half way but it was pretty close to it, and I couldn't believe how fast I'd been swimming. So round the buoy we went and started heading back down the canal. It was starting to get a bit crowded now as we were catching the wave in front, and I'm sure I lost some time getting round the stragglers, but every time some clear water opened up in front I pulled hard and got onto the feet of the fastest person I could find. Swimming past the start line we'd even caught some of the group which had started twowaves in front, but as we rounded the next buoy it opened up again and I went all out for the last 200m, under the bridge and out of the water in 1hr 12mins, ten minutes faster than I'd expected. Transition was a blur as I grabbed my bag and sprinted to the change tent, trying hard to keep calm as I skipped past some other racers and telling myself there's no need to rush. I couldn't help it though and as soon as I was changed and checked I had everything with me I legged it out of the tent, hopped on the bike and was off.

The first bike lap flew by as I took full advantage of the benign conditions and the marvellously smooth German tarmac on a course which threaded its way through the tall pine forests and out into the Bavarian countryside. Apart from one or two rollers and some tight bends through a couple of towns (which were crowded with more spectators) I was able to get my head down and just pedal out to the far end of the course where the Greding was waiting. The Greding is the first of the only two serious lumps on what is pretty much a flat course. It shoots up steeply from the town of Greding for about 400m then as the gradient decreases you continue to climb onto an exposed plateau for a couple more kilometres. The steep bit was well supported by more noisy crowds but it was nothing compared to the reception that was waiting back at the Hilpolstein, close to the start of lap two. As I headed down into the town I could hear the noise building but couldn't see where it was coming from until I swept round a corner and into a scene that I'm going to struggle to find words to describe. Barriers on either side of the road, covered with bright red "Quelle Challenge" banners held back a crowd at least five or six deep, and funnelled the riders closer and closer to the bottom of the Solarberg (the other hill on the course). Then the barriers ended and the crowd was so close all the way up the hill they could touch you and there wasn't room for 2 bikes together. The noise was deafening as they shouted and cheered and rang their cow bells and klaxons. I didn't need much encouragement and when I heard some lads with their vuvuzelas, that was it, I was out of the saddle and climbing for all I was worth. It was an incredible experience and one that'll stay with me for the rest of my life. It certainly stayed with me for the next 10 minutes, as when I reached the top of the hill I sped off again, lifted by the crowd and buzzing with adrenaline.

A quick time check at the end of lap 1 told me I was on course for about 5hrs 45-ish on the bike, but as I got to the far end of the second bike lap the field had thinned out, the breeze had started to pick up and my legs were beginning to tire. The long climb up the Greding was hard work, and unfortunately the descent on the other side had 4 or 5 switchbacks so I had to keep scrubbing off speed for the corners then pedalling up again. The next 15 or so miles were a bit of a struggle, not helped by the shooting pain in my right knee and shin which started all sorts of dark thoughts running through my mind. I eased off and went back to my game plan, just concentrating on making the pedals go round (mostly with my left leg) and blocking out any thoughts of not finishing. If I could get to the end of the bike I'd deal with the run later. I'd slowed a bit but was travelling along at a reasonable speed, and was beginning to get my head together when I went through another little town and the spectators started going wild, jumping out of their seats and cheering for all they were worth... I soon realized that it wasn't all for me as at that moment I got ‘chicked' for the one and only time in the race, and Chrissie Wellington came zipping past. I don't mind admitting that I tucked myself right in her slipstream and held on for as long as I could (about 20 seconds...!) as we flew through the village, me and the world record holder.

That was just the boost I needed and by the time I'd got up the Solarberg a second time I'd got my wind back, the pain in my leg had gone and I'd was back up to warp speed. The bad patch had taken its toll though and by the time I rolled into T2 I'd lost 20 minutes, clocking 6hrs and 6 mins for the bike leg.

After a quick change into my runners I inhaled a few chunks of cake and washed it down with a big gulp of flat coke. The caffeine went into my system like I'd injected it and I took off out of T2 like a rocket, covering the first 3.7 Km's to the first feed station in just about 16 mins.... One look at my HRM told me that wasn't sustainable so with the advice of Rob King ringing in my ears (thanks Rob), I slowed it down to a more achievable pace. I'd been trying hard not to think of the run as a marathon, and instead break it down into twenty short efforts between the feed stations, which after the first one were every 2 Km's. So I'd run as hard as I could without spiking between each station, then walk through while drinking and eating, then take off again for the next effort. And it paid off... Nick had told me that there would be people dropping like flies on the run, and he wasn't wrong.... I stuck to the plan and passed runner after runner and while a few of them came past me in the feed stations, I soon got them back when I started running again. Apart from a few relay runners (who'd not been sat in a saddle for 112 miles) I don't think anyone passed me on the run, and I lost count of the number of places I made up.

By the time I ran down the finish chute I'd lost track of time but I knew I'd done way better than expected. I was gobsmacked when I found out I'd done a 3hr 58 marathon to finish in 11 hrs 28 mins....!

And I've a lot of people to thank for it. There are my two best mates, Derrick and Davy who flew all the way to Germany for the weekend to help me out (although I know it was really just an excuse to get a few days away from their wives and get leathered on German beer...!) And a big thanks to all the coaches in club who've helped turn me from a novice into a novice ironman... especially Nick. And all my friends in the club whose messages and support were running through my head when it got tough on the bike... you all know who you are.

When I started putting this together I meant to write something short and concise, to give everyone and idea what a brilliantly well organised and supported an event Roth was. There was a real party atmosphere about the whole weekend and I'd thoroughly recommend it to anyone who's thinking about going long. Instead I've rambled on for what seems like 18 pages... front and back! I suppose I just had such a great time I couldn't help myself going on about it.

For anyone who's actually read the whole way to the end, and not nodded off, let me just say that 6 months ago I struggled round a sprint triathlon, and now (unbelievably) I've done an ironman. I know there are some of you doing ironman over the next couple of months and I wish you all the best. Just remember to stay strong and dig in when it hurts... you'll get through it. And for anyone else who's ever thought of doing ironman but reckons it's beyond them, if I can do it, every single one of you can...!

Mark Hanna