A LONG WAY FROM LANCASHIRE
It’s the New Zealand classic that’s regularly cited as the world’s most beautiful tri. But would the 2020 edition of Challenge Wanaka have a sting in its tail? Chorley’s Pete Welsh travelled 19,000 kilometres to find out
The 70km point on Challenge Wanaka’s 90km bike leg has arrived and so far, so good. As I make the right turn at Luggate the pace suddenly drops. What’s wrong? There’s a very slight headwind, nothing more than a breeze, so it can’t be that. A quick glance at the tyres reveals I haven’t picked up a puncture. I look down the arrow-straight road and see the cyclists ahead of me, they don’t seem to be pulling away. Then it hits me. This lovely flat section of the course is one of those demoralising false flats that seem to go on forever. I have to remind myself to look around and take in the stunning scenery as my thoughts turn to the half-marathon run and the approaching midday sun.
I’m in the South Island of New Zealand competing in my first overseas race. This is the 14th edition of Challenge Wanaka, which this year played host to the Challenge Family Asia Pacific Championship. I’d heard claims to this being the world’s most scenic triathlon and, taking in the backdrop of the Te Wahipounanmu World Heritage Area in the Southern Alps, I can’t argue with them.
Challenge Wanaka is my first ‘big’ event, and a quick look at the start list confirms the status of the middle-distance race (a full iron-distance event ran at Wanaka until 2018). The 2019 winners and top elites Braden Currie and Hannah Wells are back to defend their titles, and I’ll also be rubbing shoulders with the UK’s very own Joe Skipper (who won my first middle-distance event back at the 2014 Rubicon, notable for him wearing a dress on the podium as a forfeit for being beaten by a relay team).
I remember seeing coverage of Challenge Wanaka a few years ago, thinking to myself that if I ever managed to visit New Zealand, I’d try to time it conveniently for race week. So an invite to my Kiwi cousin’s wedding in February was the perfect excuse. Following a quick Google of the race date for 2020, the flights were booked followed by my race entry. We could sort fitting a holiday around the race later…
BEAUTY REVEALED
I arrive in Wanaka late on Tuesday evening, so it’s not until Wednesday morning that the true beauty of the area reveals itself. With mountains on all sides and situated on the shores of a crystal-clear lake, this is a wonderful place to spend part of our New Zealand adventure. I just can’t forget the small matter of the 113km race on Saturday...
Given this is our holiday, I’m mindful not to get too caught up in my own thoughts or let any pre-race nerves spoil the days preceding the race. To make things easier, I’d hired my equipment for the race online months before we flew out. On Wednesday afternoon I pick up my wetsuit, with a little friendly banter with SwimT3’s Chris and Gene helping to calm any race-week anxieties. On Thursday I collect my hire bike and take it out for a quick spin to make sure that two weeks in holiday mode hasn’t softened me up too much.
Friday’s briefing is a friendly affair with a few jokes made at the expense of the Aussies, which I’m guessing isn’t unusual in these parts. I’m also amused to be informed that ‘sucking off other athletes on the bike course isn’t allowed’ – a term for drafting that’s new to me.
The rest of Friday is spent sampling the buzzing atmosphere around the many pre-race events and enjoying a sun-kissed drive around the bike course. I stop regularly to take some pictures to show my clubmates back home – words can’t do these views justice. Then it’s back to the apartment for the obligatory pasta and off to bed. I never get too much sleep on the eve of a race, and after what seems like mere moments since I nodded off the 5am alarm is sounding.
IT’S NO ECCY DELPH
A quick porridge and I’m off to transition ready for my 7:10am wave start time. The lake is calm and, as the sun rises over the mountains, I head down to the water to the sound of the race-day conditions’ announcements: air temperature of 15°C rising to over 25°C by midday, 17°C in the water. This feels a long
“I’m amused to hear that ‘Sucking off athletes on the bike isn’t allowed’ – a term for drafting that’s new to me”
way from a Wednesday night in my local open-water venue of Eccy Delph in Lancashire.
The 1.9km swim waves are done by age-group and gender, which makes for a less congested start line than some races. There’s none of the usual argy-bargy throughout the swim, helping to make it by far the best open-water leg I’ve experienced in my tri career. I keep to the plan of maintaining a steady pace and all’s going well until I turn for the final 600m back to shore.
The sun has now risen above Mount Iron to make sighting nearimpossible, so I now have to rely on the directional prowess of the swimmers ahead of me and hope they don’t stray off course. I’m caught by the three lead women who set off five minutes behind, so I decide it’d be a good idea to try and get on their toes: I manage to hang on for 30 seconds before I’m unceremoniously dropped.
STILL IN A RACE
The 90km bike course is undulating throughout and, although there are no really big climbs, there are parts that seem much harder work than they should. The first 32km is an out and back, which helps to sort out the field, and I witness the pro race as it heads back in to town. I see Joe Skipper in third place, so I yell some words of encouragement – right down the ear of an unsuspecting passing rider. Conditions on the bike are near-perfect and my fears about the ‘big chip’ surface are largely unfounded, although my wrists do begin to feel it late on. The less said about my hire bike’s saddle, the better: I’ll use my own next time.
The scenery is simply amazing and I sneak quick looks around to try and take it all in. At 55km, I make the right turn over the dam at Lake Hawea and my breath is taken away by the mountain ranges framing the still blue water. I have to remind myself that I’m still in a race as I admire the views, but the legs feel good and I’m on target for the sub6hr overall race goal I’d set myself.
On the long straight after Luggate I’m brought back down reality as my pace drops on an unrelenting false flat. I’m finding myself longing for my TT bike, but to my relief the road drops around the 80km mark down to T2 and I’m feeling ready to take on the run. This feeling lasts until I reach the dismount line. Suddenly my legs feel really weak and heavy, but I manage to resist the urge to have a lie down. It’s approaching midday and the sun is high. The perfect conditions for the bike are now turning into the opposite for my run.
I’ve never felt so bad getting off the bike, especially when I’d held back on the first two disciplines.
“The sun is high. The perfect riding conditions for the bike are now turning into the opposite for my run”
My plan of going out to ‘just enjoy’ the race is disappearing fast as I realise that my 2hr 21km run target isn’t on the cards. I just have to reach the first aid station and I’ll be able to regroup. This feels like the longest 2.5km of my life as I walk/ shuffle along. My wife, Liz, is there for some encouragement and I try to remain positive – not helped by the sight of other athletes coming towards me at speeds I could only dream of as they make their way to the finish line. It’s not until after I cross the line that I realise I’d been witnessing firsthand the pointy end of the age-group race.
I only begin to feel something like my usual self at about the 10km mark. Up until then it’s been a slow run/walk enforced by fatigue, only broken up when I run with an athlete from Dunedin on the southeastern tip of New Zealand. We keep each other going until the next aid station, where I grab as many cold sponges as possible to cool me down.
SUFFERING IN PARADISE
I’d heard of the notorious Gunn Hill and was looking forward to tackling it, but not today. While walking to the top, I make a deal with myself that once there I’ll run and only slow for the feed stations. I know that negative-splitting the run is something to aim for, but this surely isn’t the way to do it.
With 1.5km remaining I see Liz again, who would’ve been forgiven for not expecting me for a while yet, given how slow I was moving last time she saw me. Time for the final push for home, and as I reach the lakefront the finish chute comes into view and I’m spurred on by the cheers of the support lining the final few hundred metres.
I cross the finish line in 310th position, a couple of minutes under the 7hr mark. Given my initial sub-6hr goal for the race, you’d think that I’d be disappointed with this, but I’m proud of my achievement and for pushing through when things got difficult on the half-marathon run.
I’d signed up with a triathlon coach at the start of October and had been seeing good gains in training, until a calf injury towards the end of November meant pulling the speed work right back. Despite this, the calf didn’t hamper my performance, and to claim that wouldn’t be fair on my fellow competitors, each and every one of whom were awesome out there with their words of encouragement when things weren’t going to plan.
The volunteers – seemingly the majority of the local population – were fantastic, always ready to rally the racers and provide welcome cold sponges when required. There are worse places to have to walk in a race, and as I slowly made my way along the shoreline of Lake Wanaka with heavy legs, I was comforted by the fact my suffering was done in this South Island paradise.
I’ll definitely be back one day to tackle this course, but next time I’ll have the holiday after the race rather than before. Until then, Challenge Wanaka, you’ve been awesome.