Half Ironman Mexico 2003

I became aware of this event through my involvement with some Mexican triathletes that were fellow Gold Coast training squad members. They provided me with contact details and acted as mediators in my negotiations with the race director. Through their help, I was able to organise a free entry and accommodation for the race.

Half Ironman Mexico was the first race of my 2003 international campaign and it included one of my most harrowing and, humourous in hindsight, travelling experiences to date, but at the same time, some of my best.

I flew out from Brisbane bound for Mexico City on around the 18th of May. Included in the journey was a stopover in LA of a number of hours. I finally landed in Mexico City with the knowledge that I had an unavoidable overnight stay before catching a 60 minute flight to the race venue the following day. My Mexican friends had given me the advice to stay in the airport hotel for the night and I was about to find out why. What I did not realise at this stage was that the airport hotel was onsight and was about 50 meters up the corridor from the arrivals gate.

As I exited customs and entered the arrivals hall with all my luggage, all that could be seen was a sea of Mexicans in white. As I attempted to push through the throng, one of them commandeered my bike box and his "accomplice" started asking "hotel?" "hotel?". As soon as I said "Yes, airport hotel" we were off. They whisked me and luggage away to a vehicle outside, which I assumed to be a taxi. They bundled me in and away we went. At this stage it was past midnight, I was extremely tired from my travel and just wanted to get to a bed.

I engaged in a little bit of small talk with my hosts, thinking it would not be long before we pulled up at the "airport hotel which was just down the road 5 minutes" and I could organise a room and some sleep. After 20 mins had past, I was starting to get a little concerned. After 40 minutes had past I realised what was going on. These jokers were taking me into the city. Somewhere I didn’t really want to be after midnight, even with friends!

I had heard so many stories about Mexico City from my Mexican friends, one of whom lived there, so I was a little anxious at this stage. I was even more anxious after we had been driving around the city for a further 30 mins without finding a vacancy anywhere. I felt like a sitting duck in the taxi as we passed nightclubs and drunken patrons on the streets - spot the tourist! It wasn’t a very pleasant experience.

We finally located a hotel with a vacancy, and, with much trepidation, I lugged my gear inside. It was at this point in time that my taxi service demanded to be paid and it was also at this time that I realised I did not have any cash on me. This meant another trip to find an ATM. The lads sure had no trouble in that regard.

After an initial scare because my cirrus savings account card was not recognised by the ATM, I managed to secure funds with my trusty credit card. Phew!

We drove back to the hotel where I paid a ludicrous amount for the "taxi"- plus tips, of course, for the great service.

The price and appearance of the hotel wasn’t too bad, but I was hoping the San Andreas fault line was going to remain inactive overnight I can assure you.

There was just one more expense, a tip for the porter who escorted me to my room. I looked in my wallet and realised I only had a large note to give him. I nominated a portion of the note to be for his tip and instructed him to bring me the change. I closed the room door thinking there was absolutely no way that was ever going to happen. However, there was a knock on the door ten minutes later, and there he was with change in hand. I said to him, "There is no way I thought I was ever going to see that again". He just smiled and laughed. I was happy with Mexicans again, for the time being anyway.

After a quick shower, I readied myself for bed. I had to get up relatively early the next morning to catch a taxi back to the airport. There was no way I was going to chance not waking up and missing the taxi so I set every alarm I had with me - watch, phone and bedside clock.

I must say, the city was nowhere near as intimidating during the day as it was at night. The taxi driver that took me back to the airport seemed legitimate, and I felt quite comfortable. There were a few moments of anxiety during the journey because of mad mexican drivers, but other than that, I had no complaints really.

The race was held in a town called Huatulco (Hwutoolco), which is on the southern side of the Mexico’s eastern peninsular. The most striking thing I noticed when I disembarked the plane was the heat and humidity. The air had a heaviness about it that I had yet to experience.

It had been arranged prior to my arrival that I would be picked up from the airport and transported to my accommodation in town, about a 40 minute drive. I was expecting there to be some sort of obvious welcoming party at the airport but I failed to notice anything as I was waiting to collect my luggage. I exited the building hoping to see signs of my transport provider outside, but again, no luck.

As I had been expecting to be picked up, I had no idea where I was staying, so there was no point trying to organise my own transportation. In the end, after an hour or so, I asked someone if they knew the name of the official race hotel, and, taking a bit of a punt, organised transport to the said establishment

I arrived at the official hotel with visions of checking in and not being on the guest list. Not a great feeling. I have had the inconvenience of experiencing it before. I was extremely pleased to find out that I actually was on the guest list, just as the race organiser and very sweaty and flustered accomplice approached me to apologise for not being at the airport to pick me up.

The official hotel was a resort in fact. There were a number of restaurants and bars and, as I was a guest of the race, everything was complimentary. It was fantastic. My room was magnificent also, huge and pristine white, with two queen size beds and airconditioning. My biggest dilemma was whether to sleep in the bed on the right or the left.

Just walking out the room door left you hot and sweaty. I was a little concerned about how I would feel during the race because of the heat and jetlag. In my warm up ride and swim on the day before the race, I felt horrible, and I was not filled with confidence for race day. However, I have felt the same prior to other races and have felt great on race day.

The race was due to start at 7am. After riding down to the start to prepare for the race, my body was already lathered in sweat from the heat and humidity, and it was 6 am.

The race got underway just after 7am and I realised, to my delight, that I actually felt pretty comfortable in the water. Chris McCormack and Chris Lieto( a US pro) exited about 30 secs in front of me, so I was in touch.

The bike course consisted of 3 very undulating and challenging out and back loops. I caught Lieto not long into the first loop and got rid of him straight away. From this point on I rode solo, with McCormack staying around 1-2 mins in front of me for the first two laps and the gap between third and myself steadily growing. The gap to McCormack blew out to about 3 minutes by the end of the ride, but I had a healthy 4.5 minute lead on Chris Legh.

The heat was just beginning to become uncomfortable towards the end of the ride. On the run, it would become almost unbearable. The run was a convoluted "T" shape and included a passage through what the locals term "el scorcho", the oven. (well actually that is not Spanish for "the oven"at all, but I have forgotten the correct term) The oven was a rock bordered canyon climb and descent of around 2-3 kilometres that had to be negotiated twice. Once on the way out and once on the way back. As you can imagine, the rocky walls absorbed and radiated a great deal of heat.

By the time I had reached the oven for the first time at around the 6 kilometre point of the run, I was already suffering. I negotiated the first climb up into the oven reasonably well under the circumstances and when I got to the first turn around point that represented the left side of the "T" at about the 11km mark, I realised that McCormack had not taken any time out of me and, after assessing his form, thought there was some chance of running him down. When I observed Legh at the same point, I knew he was running faster than I was, but I still had visions of holding him off.

When I got to the second turn around point, about 3 kilometres later. Things had changed. I felt as if I would be happy just to get to the finish and unless McCormack fell over, I was in no shape to run him down. Legh was closing fast, and I think the 43 degree heat made me delusional, as I thought there was a chance I could still hold him off.

I encountered the climb up the oven for the second and last time, with about 7 kilometres to run, and with the task of holding off Legh in mind and walking away with $1000 extra prizemoney, I attacked it with determination. Determination can only get you so far though. My head was in it, but my body was not. I was spent, a mess in fact.

I managed to hold Legh off up the oven and down the other side, but with about 4 kilometres left to run, he cruised past and there was nothing I could do about it. Legh informed me that the next athlete was over 20 minutes behind, so I took advantage of the luxury of being able walk intermittently to a third place finish.

I think I said at the time that this was the hardest race I had ever done, and I still believe it to be the case.

I finished the race extremely bloated and out of balance with regards to my electrolytes, especially sodium. I drank too much water and failed to replace sodium at the same time. I felt extremely unwell and was genuinely concerned about my health as I was lying in my hotel room about an hour later. Luckily I had some idea of what was going on.

I called up room service to bring me some salt. What a sight, me lying on the bed comatosed, licking the end of a salt shaker. I am not "telling tickies" when I say I must have urinated three to four litres of water in the following 4 hours post race.

I flew back to Mexico City and, as on the way in, I had a night’s layover before flying to Denver the following day. On this occasion I had organised to stay the night with one of my Mexican friends that competed in the race also. I got another scare when his plane was delayed and I did not realise it. He did end up exiting from the arrivals gate, but it was 3 hours later than I expected.

We taxied it back to his house which was very close to the heart of the city and contained within a complex guarded by 24 hour security. The house itself was luxurious. My room was massive and had an ensuite constructed almost entirely of marble and stainless steel. It was late, but the maid had prepared us both a meal that just needed to be heated in the microwave. A bit of a contrast from my first night’s experience of Mexico City.

I am pretty keen to go back to Mexico to do this race again at some stage. It will be difficult though, as the date has been changed to late November. I will see how things go in the future, I would love to be able to visit my friends over there again.