Red Bull Neptune Steps – March 2019
Maryhill locks, Glasgow 12:15pm 23 March 2019
Matt and Stu were yelling encouragement at me as I toughed out the mandatory 2 minute acclimatisation immersion in the freezing cold canal. I was ignoring them, not deliberately but because I was well into the process of winding myself up into a proper state as I waited for the race to start. Being in the last heat and having watched people I considered to be younger, slimmer and fitter versions of myself struggle with the challenge I was about to face had not helped my mood and nerves were kicking in big time. For the first time in a while, I was genuinely not sure if I could do this. I knew people who had been pulled out without finishing in previous years and the thought of this happening to me was terrifying.
I’d seen the Red Bull Neptune steps event on various web pages, and immediately though wow, that looks crazy. If you haven’t seen it, go and search on YouTube for a few videos to get a feel for just how insane this is as an experience.
It’s easy to say ‘its just a 420m swim in a Glasgow canal’ – but that’s a) glossing over the Glasgow canal bit b) completely ignoring the fact in march icy water is still pouring off the mountains (in 2018 the water temperature was a ‘beast from the east’ assisted 3 degrees centigrade) and c) not even hinting at the challenge posed by the seven closed lock gates you have to climb over while d) sniffing disdainfully at the minor matter of some of the lock gates being partially open cascading gallons and gallons of that icy mountain water mentioned earlier into everyone’s faces as they try to climb a rope ladder or a scramble net still gasping for breath from the swim.
It looked brilliant and was clearly something that is a unique challenge – I wanted to give it a go.
As we are all located firmly in the south, we made a trip of it, flying into Glasgow on the Friday night, carbloading on pasta in the city that evening, and crashing out in one of those really cheap but ultramodern boutique hotels that seem to be popping up all over Europe. I was sharing a room with Matt, and after his usual moaning about my prospective snoring we settled down for the night. I know I didn’t sleep well because I distinctly remember realising at two in the morning I’d not packed any goggles. Even at that ungodly hour I knew that was fairly easily solved, but it shows I was fretting.
We’d prepared more for this than one of the more usual events we’ve done – Stu and I had done a number of mid winter swims, the coldest at four degrees (I was very surprised to discover that there is a huge difference in cold impact between four and six degrees – obviously four is colder, but it’s almost exponentially worse). Matt had done only one the previous weekend – he was clearly going to be less cold water acclimated than us, and (being much slimmer) had had cold water problems in the past so I was worried about the impact this was going to have. I’d seen the red mist descend on him while racing many times before so was hopeful he wouldn’t really notice the water on race day. The cold temperatures meant that a fifteen minute time limit was in place and you would be fished out by the safety team if it looked like you were in trouble – this was my biggest concern as I was certain I would be able to complete the course but wasn’t sure how quickly.
We’d also all invested in wetsuit boots (footwear was mandatory equipment for the event), wetsuit gloves (more on that later) and neoprene hats (to be worn under the official event hat). The hats made a massive difference to the feel of cold water – Stu had bought one with a chinstrap, but rabidly not liking the idea of a restriction around my neck as I worked hard in freezing cold water I’d chosen one without a strap. When it turned up I was delighted to discover that with a latex swim cap on first, then the neoprene hat, then the event hat it showed no sign whatsoever of budging and felt no different to any swim hat.
We’d also, to varying degrees worked out that the event, with a number of rope climbs and some significant vertical ascent, was going to require more upper body strength than a typical casual triathlete was used to.
Nr Reading, 8:00pm March 9th 2019
Looking at the course map I was worried about the 60cm rope climbs. 60cm doesn’t sound far, but there were four of them and I’d decided practicing some pull ups for the months leading up to the event would maximise my chances of completing the course. I’d then done my best to minimise those chances by not actually doing any until less than two weeks before the big day, but I’d finally got myself organised and bought a cheap pull up bar online. It had arrived today and I’d quickly mounted it in the study doorframe. I was going to see how many I could do with an eye to adding through training a half dozen extra to the expected ten or so I reckoned I’d be able to deliver out of the gate. I confidently stepped up to the bar and strained with all my might.
Hmmm. Half a pull up was not quite what I’d been hoping for. My loving family collapsed laughing.
We’d checked out of the hotel and grabbed a car service to the start line. Maryhill road is miles long so it was important that we’d had the postcode handy. We were able to see when we were in the right place as we spotted a number of people in dryrobes wandering up and down by the canal. Stu had arrived a while earlier as he was in the 9:20 wave two. Matt was in 11:20 wave 8 and I was in 12:20 wave 11 – the last male heat. We were asked to register around an hour before our heats, so we were happy to wander down to the start to catch up with Stu before he went off.
As we walked down, all I could think was ‘Beards!’. There were a lot (and I mean a lot) of hairy Ross Edgley lookalikes wearing sleeveless wetsuits everywhere I looked. Ross, being probably the most famous triathlete nutter in the world at the moment was taking part but I was so focused on what was coming I didn’t notice him – or maybe I just couldn’t pick him out of the clones. Either way, there were a lot of what Stu later termed ‘cross fit bunnies’ flexing their massive biceps – it felt a little different to a typical Tri crowd. I found myself hoping half of them couldn’t swim to save their lives.
We spotted Stu who was fully suited and bouncing up and down nervously with a few minutes to go before the start; like me he was worried about some of the rope climbs we knew were coming. Fortunately he was quickly in the water to get immersed – Matt and I were both relieved when he told us it wasn’t too bad (the organisers had already told us it was eight degrees, but I’ve learnt from painful personal experience to assume they are all lying; in this case my individual internal thermometer later agreed with what they were telling us. This was a huge bonus as three degrees would have been a different kettle of fish altogether).
The water looked good from a distance, but up close it was pretty murky with visibility of a foot or so. We all noted some scum floating on top here and there and made a quick vow to do everything we could to avoid drinking any of it.
I’d had the genius idea (I hoped) to fill a huge thermos in the shower that morning – the plan was to use the warm water to ‘presoak’ the inside of the wetsuits before we all went in, minimising the initial cold rush of water in through the zip. This did work incredibly well… for Matt and I – as in the early excitement I totally forgot about it until Stu was already in. I’d also stitched Stu up in another way – while watching the videos of previous events I’d idly noticed none of the heat winners were wearing gloves. Stu was currently regretting his decision to follow this advice and loudly and clearly told us so – we both benefitted from his discomfort later as we wore the gloves. I don’t think it actually made a huge difference either way – but if it were any colder it would have been critical. He was polite about it, but I felt a bit bad for a few seconds.
The initial mass start was very much like any other tri, but a 190m swim before the first lock gate did it’s job and strung out the field nicely meaning Stu had a clear run at this first scramble net without having to wait his turn. Matt and I ran up the course with the bulk of the spectators, all of us watching as he fought his way upstream.
I don’t think Stu would mind me saying he found it hard – as he’d been waiting to start as the first wave went off he’d had no chance to watch and figure out some of the differences between tackling the race well and badly. Matt and I had many chances to work some of this out. One thing which quickly became apparent as key was many competitors were trying to haul themselves up the various obstacles through arm strength alone and even if this was physically possible it was clearly less efficient than trying to get your legs underneath you and pushing from there. On many, especially the rope climbs, there were hidden ledges under the surface which could be used as an initial springboard to get up and climbing.
The spectators were brilliant, with six hundred competitors but only around thirty in each wave, a lot of people were cheering us on knowing they had already done it or would be going off soon. At one point Stu lay at the top of a climb for a microsecond gathering his breath and the young lad next to me yelled ‘G’wan lad, have a nap, you’ve earned it’. It creased all of us up, Stu included, but gave him the push to drive himself to his feet and get moving again.
Exhausted, Stu crossed the line. Already worried, my mood was further depressed when all he was able to yell at us was ‘That was…. not fun’ before collapsing into the hot tub provided to warm the athletes up post heat. Stu quickly discovered his hands were stinging furiously in the warm water so sat there with forearms suspended over the water like a puppet on strings.
One of the athletes in Stu’s wave had been told by a marshal that he was over the time limit and would be hauled out unless he promised he’d finish – vow given, he was allowed to complete the course. Before the event, I would have thought this would be a weight off my shoulders but it kind of wasn’t – I wanted to finish within the time limit and given how tough Stu had found it my confidence was rock bottom. I was already trying to work out how I could avoid making eye contact with any marshal who might be trying to pull me out.
Soon it was Matt’s go – younger and faster we were expecting him to do well, although we’d already agreed that if any of the heat winners tags (that let you go through to the semi-finals) were still there at the finish when we hit the line, we didn’t want them – tackling the course once would be enough. He did indeed look good, flying through the obstacles; the only thing that kept him from the semis was what with hindsight was an overly cautious first swim as like all of us he wasn’t sure how much the gates would take out of us – he spent the rest of the race making up places.
We all found the scramble nets and rope ladders the hardest to get up – tricky in their own right, when other people were climbing on the same ropes we were bounced around and handholds moved just as we lunged for them. You can also see from the picture above that the rungs stop a good way before the top of the gate and a little thought was required to work out when and how to throw yourself over the top without risking falling backwards.
As Matt neared the finish he was fighting for position with another racer and the lead was swapping places every time they started an obstacle. Matt was able to hear me shouting that a load of people were coming up from behind and he needed to sprint (they weren’t and he didn’t) but he was able to blow away his drafting rival, which was a good thing as he stumbled coming out of the final water entry and took an age to get back to his feet. Matt was soon in the (rapidly cooling) hot tub having finished in a blistering ten minutes and it was my turn to go.
Maryhill locks, Glasgow 12:23pm 23 March 2019
Finishing the initial swim I quickly approached the first scramble net. Frustratingly, I did have to wait – the net was full and there were four swimmers waiting, with four routes up the net. As I looked up, I realised that although 4m had looked high from the shore in the race the height didn’t register – it was just one rung after another and soon I was on it. Telling myself this was the hardest obstacle and past it I would know I could do the rest, it did take what felt like forever to get my legs under me and start climbing but I think it was only a second. Diving back in at the top, it was only 40m to the wooden ladder which was a doddle, and then 25m to the rope climb – if I couldn’t do this it was all over.
Unfortunately we all drank considerably more Glaswegian canal water than we’d hoped for – usually on the bigger obstacles with water gushing over the top of the gates – as you looked up for handholds it was nearly impossible not to take some in. So far, we’ve not suffered any ill effects however.
On reaching the first rope climb I was able to see that where the rope had been looped around the top of the lock beams it actually provided an additional hand hold which meant in combination with the underwater ledges I did not have to haul myself hand over hand up the rope. I made up a lot of ground on other swimmers who had not spotted this at each of the four climbs.
Although rapidly switching orientation from horizontal to vertical was exhausting and made it really hard to find a good rhythm like most of the other racers I was determined and just tried to keep moving – either forwards or upwards, not thinking about what was next but just driving on. One thing that was really fascinating – although none of us were anywhere near the back of our heats we all felt like we were dead last – you are so focused on what’s in front of you (and the visibility in the water was so bad) you have no idea if anyone is still behind.
Maryhill locks, Glasgow 12:32pm 23 March 2019
Either I was side by side with someone else called Stu or the spectators had heard my friends calling my name as there were a lot of people roaring me on over the final obstacle. I crossed the finish line having even managed a small sprint at the end and after a few seconds looked at the clock – I initially thought I must be more tired than I realised as it seemed to be suggesting I’d done it in 12 minutes something – well under the time limit, and there were plenty of spaces in the hot tubs as there were a load of swimmers still on the course. Not only had I completed the Neptune Steps, but by my standards I’d absolutely smashed it out of sight.
As a Red Bull organised event, there were a lot of positives from an organisational point of view – really good commentary and music all day, a dedicated competitors crash out zone with hot drinks and giant bean bags; more red bull than anyone should drink in one go (with hindsight a couple of cans fifteen minutes before the heat might have been useful) and a really healthy main meal (a couple of options including a good looking Thai green curry) and dessert all included. Three huge heated changing room tents were provided for the men (didn’t see the ladies, sorry). I genuinely enjoyed spectating as much as the event itself – I think it’s a brilliant one to watch, although obviously the weather will have an impact on just how enjoyable that is.
For the three of us, despite it being brilliant fun, it was one of those where we all came out of the water saying ‘Done, and I have no desire to do that ever again’ but by the time we made it home we all had starting firmly planning how to prepare and be triumphant next year. Regardless of how challenging it was for us logistically it’s moved from ‘bucket list, do it once’ to something I suspect we will drag more and more friends to do each time. Oh, if you do decide to do, take some tips from the main nutter himself (everything he suggests would have helped), and get started on that upper body work over the winter.
For what its worth, even on the day if there’d been a winners tag still hanging as we crossed the line, all three of us would have grabbed it, no question. Lets see how it goes at next years Red Bull Neptune Steps!