I will read any race report that includes the phrase :
… rode clown-bike style to transition.
Well done. That’s a classic.
*********
My epic mechanical fail was in Ironman NZ, way back in '92 when the race was in Auckland and featured a bike course on rough, granular, pot-holed roads. I was riding an 18-spoke front and 24-spoke rear wheel. They had performed well in the past but hadn’t yet been subjected to anything like the IMNZ roads.
Well into the ride, one of my rear spokes popped, followed later by one of my front spokes. As the rims were rubbing against the brake pads, I loosened the caliper brakes to allow the wheels to turn freely, albeit in an unnervingly wobbly trajectory.
Soon after, another spoke broke and I was now riding with a massively misaligned 16-spoke front, wondering how many spokes can be lost before the integrity of the wheel is so compromised, it simply collapses.
Before my ponderings could be definitively answered, I heard the now familiar but unwelcomed sound of another spoke popping. Perhaps fortunately, it was another rear spoke, leading to my rear wheel rubbing against the chainstay, ensuring my bike was now unrideable.
Knowing the on-course bike mechanics were not carrying spare wheels, and with a bike I could neither ride nor even wheel along, I was stranded 14km from T2, having seen my hopes of Kona qualifier extinguished hours earlier.
Of the few options now available to me, I’m still unsure why simply sitting by the side of the road waiting to be picked up by the sag wagon wasn’t the one I chose. Instead, I took off my bike shoes, lifted my bike onto my shoulder and ran the rest of the cycle course barefoot.
It was a relief to arrive at transition, unloading my bike from my now bruised shoulder to a waiting volunteer, before feeling the relative comfort of my running shoes as I slipped them on my feet.
Ultimately, it was an unexpectedly long day. 3.8km swim, 166km cycle, 56km run. Not the usual way to finish an ironman, but I made it through.