Saturday 22 June 2013

The Dambuster! My first olympic distance triathlon

Dambuster ... Where to start?! So many bits to it...

Pre-Tri
I booked the Friday off so I could get ready at a leisurely pace. I felt quite nervous when I woke up. In hindsight, it appears this was more about possibly forgetting something vital rather than nerves about the event itself. I packed up and hit the road. When I got to Rutland Water, I was feeling good. The place itself is beautiful you can’t help but feel really chilled out there. I impressed myself putting two tents up and got chatting to my neighbours, a couple from Essex. Cue much reminiscing about past races, conversations about strengths and weaknesses and expectations for the race. I never got their names, but the guy was talking about them adjusting the swim course because of the wind when he did the Vitruvian in the same place a couple of years before. He said once you got out of the lagoon it was surprising what impact the wind had on the water. I didn’t pay this much heed at the time. I went for a mooch down to registration and looked at the swim course which was already marked out. The first buoy looked miles away. So did the distance from the first to second buoys. I told myself I had already swum 2km, and no matter how far it looked this was only 1.5.
Camping was rubbish! The rain that had been forecast turned up in the middle of the night. This was preferable to when I was putting the tents up, but still, it was really loud and I was struggling to sleep as it was so I woke up in a foul mood. I ate a banana and a high 5 energy bar and walked my bike down to transition. I set up gradually, having time to get most of my camping stuff back in the car. The early start is purely to get some proper breakfast in plenty of time to avoid indigestion in the race. I know from experience that I need to eat a couple of hours in advance or it will hurt. This seems to be true for other people too. I spent the rest of the time hanging out on the beach or running for a last minute wee (I had six loo visits before the start!) which got annoying once I’d got my wetsuit on. On the morning itself, I felt pretty excited and eager to have a go!

Swim
During the race brief, there was an announcement that the swim had been adjusted to reduce the amount of time in the main lake. This had reduced the swim to 1400m instead of 1500m. The swim was a beach start, as opposed to the deep water start at Rother Valley, so that was a new experience. “Beach” was a pretty generous description. “Stony as chuff” would have been my preferred choice. It was an ”ooo ahh bugger” tentative getting in process. We had a few minutes to get wet and cold before the wave started before we were told to only be in “ankle deep” which clearly loosely meant “knee deep”. I stayed to one side, not wanting to get caught up in the washing machine that is a group start, and when the start blower went I gingerly took a couple of steps and then threw myself as far forward as I could. I got going, the main group heading off and leaving me behind with a couple of slower people (fine by me. Preferable to getting booted in the face). All of a sudden, I felt I was rocking side to side. Imagine laying on your front, and rocking from left to right. We had come past the mini-headland and were into the main lake. The impact of the wind was completely unexpected. I had no frame of reference for it. It was worse than the uniform, slower feeling of waves in the sea. It was all over the shop! I had to stop for a second to let it register. Luckily, in swimming, I am ambidextrous! I resolved to breath to my left only, as the choppiness was hitting from the right and trying to breath that side could end up still feeling like your face was underwater as the ’wave’ washed over your head and left you with a mouth full of water. Weirdly, stopping never entered my mind. I was thrown and confused, but it was just something to deal with, though when I spoke to my friend and my Essex neighbour after the race, they both said their first thought had been to bail after hitting the choppy water, so I felt quite chuffed about how I had handled it. Anyway, so there I am, breathing to my left until hitting the first buoy. The other thing was, waves push you, so I was having to correct constantly to make sure I was going to go around the first buoy correctly. It felt like a proper battle and was very tiring. After the first buoy, you start coming back on yourself, so of course I began to breath to my right, still keeping my face away from the choppiness and being glad that I would be out of it sooner rather than later. It really did throw you off your stroke! I was sighting as best I could and heading in the right general direction, but because I was breathing to my right had no idea what was going on to my left. One of the safety guys in a canoe said to me that I needed to be more to the left so, risking a face full of water, I finally looked in that direction. Lo and behold, a line of people who are much better a sighting than me, and much faster at swimming, from the wave starting after mine, were filing past! I had been pushed off course again, quite severely, and had probably done about 50m on top of what I should have. I soldiered on, sighting the next big orange buoy. It didn’t seem too far away. The water got calmer again, when suddenly I was caught up in a second group of people from the wave behind me, and no matter which side I breathed I was facing body parts churning up the water. I faltered for a second, choosing to let them get ahead a little, then carried on, realising that the buoy I thought was the turning point actually wasn’t, and there was more to go before turning back towards the beach. I thought it was probably a good thing that this had happened, because the alternative was recognising just how far it was from the first to the second buoys which could have been disheartening. Finally, after what felt like forever, I was coming out of the swim. As much as I was kicking like hell to get the blood flowing, I still felt that weird drunken feeling that changing blood pressure brings. This was aggravated by the stones on exit again. Essex neighbour had discussed being really disorientated after the swim, but I only realised what he meant when I was already out on the bike. I’d totally forgotten to put my calf compressors on!

Bike
The bike was good overall! For a change. All that work I’ve been trying to put in has been paying off. It was a long route around the whole of Rutland Water. Within five minutes of setting off I realised I needed the loo! I wasted time pulling off on a hill to dive in some bushes (potentially a penalty!) before realising they were too nettley! Then diving off again to sort myself out. Then I plugged away. The downhills didn’t phase me like they do in practice. I milked them for all they were worth! I started with three gels on my bike but only managed to have one, the other two disappearing somewhere along the way (more potential penalties) so more secure taping to my bike next time. In spite of this, I never felt completely knackered. I felt able to plug away. I felt I was managing the gears better than I have before. I’ve always been able to get up bonkers hills without bailing and walking, but the whole thing had a smoothness too it which felt a lot better. I was worried about cramping calves, but they were fine. The only twinginess I got was the odd feeling in the backs of my thighs, which I felt was the result of gradually adapting how I cycle. There were a few people pulled over with flats, and several ambulances/police went past with sirens going. When I was on the home stretch (having done a dummy run a few weeks earlier, which I thoroughly recommend for any course) I felt good, knowing I had the legs for the run. I knew I was running low on energy, but I also knew I could plod indefinitely if need be.

Run
The run was a straightforward out and back partway round the lake. I hit T2 and really felt like just sitting and taking 5! I got my trainers on and plodded out. It always feels a bit rubbish seeing other people packing up just as you head out on the run! You can hear the announcer on the loudspeaker when you are around the finish line and I could have sworn I heard them saying the time was three hours fifteen, which meant I was screwed for my 4 hour deadline, as I knew the run would be at least an hour. I sucked it up and set off. Just after one km I saw my friend Jonny heading back in and gave him a high five in passing. This was a boost as I had calculated that he would have finished before I got out on the run. I was already messing about with motivating numbers in my head... When I hit the next marker, I’ll be 1/5th of the way through, just after that, I’ll be ¼ of the way through etc. At 2km I had a mental word with my feet. They were feeling quite hot, and I told them that whether they blistered or not, I was running on them anyway, so they could just shut up. I distracted myself by trying to breath out a mild/moderate stitch that was persisting (and did throughout the run). The dam crossing was rubbish, as it was exposed and came with a gusting side wind, so it got you on the way over, and on the way back. I managed to take in some scenery (I can’t say enough how totally beautiful it is). At about 4km I realised I could look across the lake to the finish, and it seemed a lot further back round than 5km, but reflected it didn’t feel like it had taken that long to get here, and it wasn’t going to make any difference to how I was going to deal with it. The turning point came with a feeling of elation, as they usually do on runs like that: “I’ve broken it’s back”, “I’m on the home straight” etc. Strangely, at 6km, I suddenly was hungrier than ever before! If the cutest kid in the world was eating his favourite sweets with relish I would happily have stolen them at that point! That went within a couple of minutes. I made my way back and down towards the finish. When I saw it, I couldn’t help but smile.  One of the marshalls who had been filming all day was videoing and shouted “sprint finish?!” Well I couldn’t argue with that, so I got a spurt on for the last bit. The tannoy guy was announcing finishers names and as he gave me a shout I waved my arms and crossed the line. He clearly liked that, and asked if I was going to take a bow, which I did. I immediately felt nauseous, to the point of wondering if I was actually going to be sick, but the lovely ladies at the finish sat me down and it passed. My friend came and gave me a big hug. I had a couple of occasions shortly after finishing where I nearly welled up as it was quite overwhelming. Ultimately, I felt awesome! I was so chuffed with the time as well. I came in the last handful of people, but I did it!

Now for some serious training for the Vitruvian!

Sunday 9 June 2013

Rother Valley Sprint Triathlon

Hoorah! First open water swim triathlon under my belt :-) To be honest, it was really nerve wracking. I was worried about getting eaten alive in the carnage of the swim start, so I stayed well back. By well back I mean at least a foot back from the whole group! Luckily it wasn't a big wave, or it didn't seem it. When I started I still ended up seemingly surrounded, which I suspect was due to the people in front being too closely packed together so I set off when some of them were still waiting to start. I didn't get kicked in the head, thankfully, but had a couple of sideways crashes where we just seemed to bounce off each other! Then most people got ahead and I got into plodding rhythm, only disturbed by my crap sighting which threw me off balance. It was a simple triangle swim: Straight out, left, straight on, left, back in. I'm glad I had some open water practice, and I knew I could do the distance, so after the start was out of the way (the only bit I wasn't familiar with) I felt I could plod round, which I did. It felt like it took forever! I was really surprised it was under twenty minutes. I wasn't last in my wave but I was overtaken by a few people from the wave after. Still, I did it! The funny thing was it has taken me ages to faff about with my wetsuit when I've been for a swim, but I whipped it straight off in T1! 

On a separate note, turns out my cycling sucks to high heaven. I feel my run is fine (thanks running buddy), and even my swim is coming along. The swim is known for being technical and there are lots of bits to learn with it, but the bike? What can I do? I asked my friend and excellent triathlete, and his advice was "more hills"! 

Anyway, you learn something every race. Well chuffed with it. Hope there's some event pics somewhere!


Thursday 6 June 2013

Update: 6th June 2013

So, what have you missed? I'll try and keep it in chronological order. I still find the most fascinating aspect of all this is how my HEAD deals with it. My body is straightforward... It's either working or it isn't, but my HEAD is a temperamental beast, though I'm beginning to see a pattern. It would appear that I am getting better at preparing, but in more insightful moments I see it as keeping the bugger quiet. It's a case of learning how to do this. Hopefully, summarising my recent sporting efforts will give you more of an idea of what I mean...

4th May 2013: Scunthorpe Half Marathon. Pleasure rating 10/10. Pain rating 2/10. http://www.northlincshalf.co.uk/
This was awesome. No doubt about it. I knew my body could do it, having been broken severely by Sleaford Half in February. There's something about "I know I can do that because I have already" that does wonders for your headspace. I went in thinking if anything was going to let me down it was my body as I was having recurrent blister issues on all my long runs. Lo and behold, I did have to stop twice to try and sort my left little toe out, finally compeeding it and running it numb, but it did the job! My running buddy and I thrashed our Sleaford time and both felt sore but great! Job done.


11th May 2013: Lincoln Sportive - 10/55/75/100 mile bike. I chose 55. Pleasure rating 3/10. Pain rating 8/10. http://www.itpevents.co.uk/events/the-lincoln-grand-prix-sportive.html
I'm loath to score it 10/10 for pain as that conjures images of ambulances or at least a hospital visit in the car.  This was an unfamiliar beast and I TOTALLY underestimated it. As a result, it bit me firmly in the arse and rightly so. I wasn't taking it seriously, thinking I could just mooch through it. WRONG. Mainly due to head reasons again. Firstly, it was about my third time out on my clip in bike shoes and my confidence was pretty much zero. To compound this, the route started with a right turn onto a main road, immediately followed by going straight over a busy roundabout. I felt panicky taking the right turn, then went into shut down on seeing the roundabout immediately afterwards. I pulled off onto the pavement, unclipping, and started to shake. Then I had a mini-cry. I was completely terrified and my head was full of visions of me flipping over someone's car bonnet. I pictured myself walking the bike back to the car, packing up and texting my friend (who was somewhere ahead) to let him know I had to bail. I was completely in that moment and reacting with it. After a few deep breaths I managed to think about the bigger picture. I HAD to get over this. I had triathlons coming up which would be much easier if I could get used to the clip in shoes. I couldn't go back to normal shoes now as it would feel like a step backwards. Also, I knew that 55 miles couldn't all be in such a built up area. We'd be out in the countryside soon, I just had to get that far and I knew I'd feel more comfortable. I challenged my all or nothing thinking: If I set off again, I could still bail if it didn't get any easier. I could stop whenever I wanted. This internal tussle happened pretty quickly. I blew my nose, walked my bike across the pedestrian island to cross the roundabout, and got back in the saddle. I found a group to tag on the back of and followed their lead until we got out of town, which was within 10 minutes. I sighed relief and began to enjoy the countryside. Soon after, I met three lovely guys who were going just a smidge faster than my comfortable pace and passed the time chatting with them until we hit the 25 mile feed station. It had taken an hour and forty-five minutes and the route had been fine. I set off again without the guys because I felt they'd been going a little slow just for me and didn't like the idea I was holding them back. From here on in, everything went wrong. My front gears began to falter and I was really having to mess with them to get them to change. This was a right pain because there was some massive ups and downs on the first section of the second half, as well as later at Scampton. Slipping gears aren't what you need on hills, especially clipped in, so eventually I gave up and just sucked up the fact that I would have to creep up the hills super slowly, legs screaming, on the hardest cog. The weather changed, turning into a nasty head wind along with icy rain which seemed to never stop. I became aware that my feet were sodden and I couldn't feel the front half of both of them, no matter how much toe-wiggling I did. My right achilles began to hurt on and off. This began to happen with at least 20 miles left, and all I could do was keep riding. I had no frame of reference for where I was and just kept telling myself the end couldn't be far off. I had my phone as a clock. I'd been riding for two hours so kept telling myself I must be nearly there considering how long the first half had taken... How wrong I was! I didn't know at the time but I had at least another hour to go. The weather and change in route difficulty slowed me right down. My achilles pain was so bad at points that I was riding and crying. I had loads of people overtaking me which didn't help where my head was. I got to the end and should have gone down a steep hill to come back up a steep cobbled street, as is the sportive's tradition. I had been telling myself that this route would be shut due to the rain, as per the race instructions, and that the alternative flatter route would be being used. This wasn't the case. I took the shorter route anyway. By this point, I was just satisfied (I was going to type happy, but that is definitely not the right word) to have got through it. I crossed the line and immediately headed for the car. I was wet, cold, miserable, in pain, exhausted and really pissed off with myself for my own stupidity at how easy I had expected it to be. When I got to the car I packed up on autopilot, got changed in the passenger seat and then cried hysterically. Like big heaving sobbing gasping for breath crying. I felt like I needed to get all that frustration and unhappiness about the ride out, so I just let myself go for it. After about ten minutes I stopped, wiped my face with a face wipe and felt better. I could start putting it to bed now. In hindsight, I am glad I broke it's back, because I need to do that distance in a triathlon later in the year, but I won't underestimate the distance again... No fear! However, my head now says "I know I can do that, even though it was really hard" and that is a good thing. I am hoping it will be my cycling equivalent of Sleaford Half Marathon, which was horrid, and my next 55 mile bike ride will be much better. 

19th May 2013: Race for Life Cleethorpes 5km. Pleasure rating 10/10. Pain rating 0/10. http://raceforlife.cancerresearchuk.org/choose-your-event/cleethorpes.html
This was a trip down memory lane for my running buddy and I. We did the RFL in 2011 and wanted to see how far we had come since then. We had a right laugh all day! We set a target for 28 minutes and did it in 25.23 and found it easy! Like we could have pushed a bit further! It was a good lesson in pacing too. Head wise, no issue at all.


2nd June 2013: Dambuster bike route. Pleasure rating 8/10 Pain rating 2/10. http://www.pacesetterevents.com/dambuster-triathlon.php
My friend and I went for a camping trial at Rutland Water and whilst there did the Dambuster bike route.I didn't understand what an awesome idea this was until after we'd done it. The route is lovely. Couple of frapping hills at the start and end, but otherwise nice roads, straightforward route, happy days! I can already imagine that this will make it feel a little easier to deal with on the 22nd of June when I am waiting to start the swim. Taking the mystery out of it and knowing what to expect does wonders for your head: "I know I can do that". Though my achilles was twitching towards the end! Need some more long ride practice. 

5th June 2013: Swimming the lake. Pleasure rating 8/10. Pain rating 0/10.
http://www.activities-away.com/              http://onehundredpercentswimming.co.uk/
After seeing it three weeks on the bounce doing the open water swim course with 100% swimming at activities away, I finally swam the 800m lake. It had been taunting me for ages. It looked SO BIG and the end was so far away people appeared tiny. There was that thing in my head saying "what if you get in trouble down there?" I had to pop my lake cherry! I was due to go down there with a friend, but he bailed last minute for completely valid reasons so I was on my own. I was nervous getting in the water, then I just got on with it. Turns out I was too distracted by how utterly crap my sighting was to worry about how far away from help I was! It was nice to get 800m under my belt before my first open water sprint at Rother Valley this weekend. And I can chalk it up as another "I know I can do that, I've done it before" experience. This is clearly the way forward for me!

The power of the brain... It seems to me that all these events have been impacted far more by where my head has been than what state my body is in. My body does what I tell it. My head decides to accept or ignore pain, or fear, or choose to stop, or carry on. I'm amazed by this. All those references to being "psychologically ready" for events that are made in books and magazines make sense now. You can blag your way through a sprint, or a 5km run, but this big stuff is literally a head mashing experience. I like learning journeys though... so I'll crack on!

Till next time...

Sue