The following is not a list of excuses, but rather an explanation for what happened during that race. Ultimately, I ended up on the podium but it was not the race I had planned, my coaches had planned, or what we knew could be delivered. The goal was Sub 4 and a win.

The 2 weeks leading up to the race I was unbelievably unwell – to the point that my coach and I were debating whether I would be racing at all. Luckily, we managed to get things sorted enough for me to get out to Warsaw to race. Less training than planned, less sharp legs than planned, but we were there.

The day before (Saturday) I had the bike rack fiasco from hell as my lock ring disintegrated on me for no good reason, and I was left out by a lake in Warsaw with a non-functioning bike. The Shimano tent had no parts, and nothing was open on a Saturday afternoon. SOMEHOW, my dad managed to source a cassette from Decathlon that had a compatible lock ring and we managed to get that onto my bike before transition closed. I believe this day may have been the start of the following issues. I left my hotel at 9:30am to register and rack, and got back at nearly 7pm having been stressed, and on my feet, all day.

THE RACE

I self seeded myself to the front of the swim, and went on to put down the fastest swim in my Age Group (and season best). Amazing, but at the same time it meant I had no swim pack to be with, and was left on my own for the beginning of the bike. Not really an issue as I had a race plan to stick to and aimed to do just that. The beginning of the bike I was sitting below goal race power hoping to flush the legs, wake them up a bit, and then get going. I moved up to race power thinking “here we go” and that is when my body just said “no”.

That was it, that was game over. I had the most intense sciatica in my left leg and could not, for the life of me, sit at race power. I could barely hold Z2 power. I let a pace group catch me and I sat in for a long, painful, ride back into Warsaw; fighting back tears I knew this was going to be a LONG day out. On another note though, closed road riding is surreal. Cycling on Warsaw’s equivalent of the M25 with no cars on it was a fantastic experience, and I tried my best to enjoy the race for what it was at that point.

I ended up getting into T2 10 – 15 minutes slower than goal time but went over to my bag to get my shoes, and sat down to put them on. It was at this point that the first mental grumblings began, “you could DNF right now and no-one would blame you.” Yet, I would. I would blame me. I thought, “get your shoes on and go run one loop and see how it feels. You can DNF after you have tried but not before.” I managed to get up off the bench with a bit of struggle and headed out of transition and started the first of 4 loops of the run course.

By the end of the first loop my running form had gone. I was dragging my left leg as my hip had locked, and I couldn’t bring myself to run with proper form. The body does weird things when in pain, and your body alters your gait in this case to compensate for a lack of free movement.

My dad, Courtney and Luke were on the side screaming support and giving me position updates. I was just off the podium places and that irritated me. The tears started again, and I was left grimacing while pounding up and down the cobbled roads of the old town. The crowd and atmosphere competing with my inner voices for priority as to what course of action I would take. Every single time I looped back to the start the urge to walk and or DNF got stronger. It was no longer me v. anyone else. It was me v. me; but I know myself.

One. More. Loop. Over and over and over and over. The aim was to have no KMs slower than 4:00/km, I knew if I dropped below that my mental game would soon after buckle and I would be left with an even bigger battle. On loop 3 my friend Atilla was on the side with a ‘Full Sned’ sign and that lifted the spirits. I knew in that moment, again, that this race was not just for me. I had a bigger purpose and my purpose was to deliver as best as I could.

I ended up catching a pro, Schilling, and running with him for a while. This was an amazing mental distraction and then I heard Luke / my Dad shout “3rd place, 11 seconds”. I scanned ahead of me and couldn’t see any race numbers. I had no idea who I was chasing down, but I thought “11 seconds – that is mine.” With renewed purpose I pushed on for my final loop.

I always say the first 5k and last 5k of a half marathon is free, and the real struggle is the middle bit. This was just as true during this race as it had ever been. As I made my second to last u-turn I thought, “well, I am finishing this now.” The crowd was loud, proud, electric, and supportive. I was carried by thoughts of 17 year old me not thinking this was going to be a possibility. I dragged myself around that final loop and onto the finishing chute. Finally, the noise totally drowned out my thoughts and I crossed the line in 4:14:55. My slowest Half Ironman to date, my slowest ever half marathon, but good enough for 3rd. I broke down onto my dad as the true extent of my pain flooded my body. I could barely breathe, or walk. I had gone deeper than I realised and I was paying the price.

A few days have passed and things are a bit clearer now. Ultimately, I am in two minds about the performance. First, I am unbelievably proud I finished, and ended up on the podium (as well as with a slot to the world championships) on the worst of days. If that is what I can deliver when things go wrong, then I am excited for what I can deliver when things go right. On the flip side, I am unbelievably frustrated with my body. It is the one controllable that I am still struggling with controlling, but that is one of my goals for this winter block. Get healthy & fit. Not one or the other.

I know one day my day will come and I will deliver. Sub 4 is happening sooner rather than later, and I look forward to posting about that result in a much more positive light.

Thank you to everyone who messaged me, supported me, and believes in me. It means more than you could ever imagine.

Solutions not excuses, dude(s).

Max