Burnham Triathlon, Graeme Obree and the nature of competition - all on the same day

The alarm jolted me from one of those broken nights full of dreams, and offered me a bright but cold day for my very first triathlon.  To my surprise the car was iced over - not a good point when in a few hours I would be running out of a swimming pool and onto a bike with chlorinated water streaming down me.  But no matter; by the time I got there the thermometer in the car was registering a heady 2 degrees and I had a plan to ride in a gilet.
Other than the early morning chill, the day must be an organiser's dream - the low sun creating a photogenic air, and very little breeze to frustrate the cyclists.  Of course the indoor pool was the first discipline, and I duly lined up on the poolside, rather calmly; possibly even complacent.  Maybe that was my undoing, as the first two lengths were undertaken rather quickly and the last 200m was spent surviving rather than thriving.  The girl I had overtaken early on kept snapping at my heels (figuratively) until I let her pass, thus taking that zing of adrenalin out of my stroke.

Outside, grapple with my shoes, on with the gilet and helmet and away. I suppose I should be pleased that I overtook loads of people and nobody overtook me, but I really felt as if I was on my way home from a hard day at the office rather than racing with gritted teeth.  Likewise the run - my transition was good; I was glad that with such a short event I hadn't bothered with cycling shoes but stuck to running shoes and plain old pedals.  I cruised along and barely pushed myself at any point.  Nobody was challenging me and I had only a few to run down, so just ran.  No sprint for the finish, I just ran through it barely out of breath.

Looking at the results, I finished in the top third but my swimming was way below my normal time - the rest of the event was spent recouping my losses and moving through the field.
Well, hang on, top third sounds good, doesn't it?  Surely it is all about just enjoying the competition?  That wouldn't explain my rather hollow feeling about the day - a superb event and a great introduction to competing in triathlons, but nothing there for me to take home with pride.  What I need to do is continue pushing the swimming, incorporate some speedwork and ease back on the grazing between meals.  What I need to do is this, is that, to improve, to move forward, consider my targets, take it more seriously, make training sessions hurt, go out with people faster than me....

Woah!  Stop Neddy.  None of this matters, really.  Graeme Obree (more on him later) said what helps him is to look in as if he is a stranger.  So, what would a stranger see? A good event, a first triathlon, plenty of overtaking, kit worked ok, but a slight sense of not having tried.  How much is that worth? 2 places?  Worth worrying about?  Don't think so, so take pleasure in the event.

So then, on to Graeme in the afternoon of the same day.  A fascinating film about his attempt on the world land human powered speed record, plus a question and answer session with the man himself afterwards.  He is a human whirlwind with ideas and actions pouring out of him unchecked; a tsunami of change.
It was clear that the film only presented a viewpoint - for instance there was a bit where he didn't go fast enough to break the record and the film showed him sitting dejected - the audience were drawn into his apparent devastation after everything that had been achieved.  But, then he said that in a situation like that you just have to move on - it didn't work? well, there you go.  So is he right, or was the film maker right?  Of course everything is subjective and all viewpoints are valid, so I guess both are right.  His drive to achieve is nothing short of amazing, but as he said, you need to be obsessive to get that far, and that just isn't comfortable.
He used the record attempt as a vehicle to tell his story of redemption from mental illness, and as he spoke in the bar afterwards I saw a man who had found some sort of peace with his brain, even though the same brain was still chucking out thoughts and energy like a firework.

But, targets, aiming high, what a dangerous game.  Why not dump the programmes, the race calendar, and just do stuff?  I have often thought this, but having set my mind to this huge triathlon in June have bound myself to a tight schedule.  And who likes being bound?  No, we like freedom.  Leisure time is time for us to do what we want at our own pace rather than being dictated by someone else, and here I am comparing myself to the times of others so they dictate my training.  And Mr Obree - wanting to be the best, get a world record.

A hurricane comes, Wizard of Oz-like and spirals you off to a desert island , all on your own.  What do you do for leisure?  Train to beat a record? Set targets? Or enjoy going fast, just for its own sake?

Yes, this is him inside that tiny thing, with his shoulders squashed into a frame made out of a saucepan to make him more aerodynamic  

Image; http://www.cyclingweekly.co.uk/news/latest-news/review-battle-mountain-graeme-obree-story-219699 

If you want to contribute to my triathlon based fundraising, please click on the following link; St Peter's Hospice

Life in the slow lane

An update must surely be in order, just in time for a major milestone - my very first triathlon this weekend.
I can't say I feel terribly fit, but I have stepped up the training and so should be ticking along in all three disciplines.  I have done very little speed work, but there is plenty of time for that.  A key strategy for me has been not to worry about being a contender and thus not worry whether I have carried out the right type of training - it's all about the long haul. I'm doing these early events just to get experience and have fun.

Swimming - getting better, due to going for a swim at least twice a week aong with attending classes with a coach who does proper drills and offers loads of guidance.  I haven't got the nerve up to ask her to coach me on a 1:1 basis yet, but I will.  At least I know the importance of the turns, have mastered bilateral breathing and have bought a proper lycra swimming costume (apparently called jammers...).

On top of this I have bought a wet suit!  Field testing in the sea will take place next week, so I can get used to being battered around a choppy swell, hyperventilating due to the cold.

Running - I have dropped the knee brace for a while - short flat distances seem ok so long as I keep my stance efficient.

Cycling - well, no real training, but I have done some rides, including some fairly hard ones with the tri club.

Bricks - despite Linkedin repeatedly sending me details of vacancies for construction lecturers I am not changing career direction.  Bricks are a way of taking a perfectly pleasant morning and completely ruining it - push two training sessions together like twin single beds and watch in mock horror as I come back soaked from a 60 mile bike ride, immediately jump into cycling shorts, scoff half a banana and then waddle out for an hour's run.  Oh, and the third discipline - sleep all afternoon.

Transitions - I found out at the Burnham aquathlon that putting a shirt on is a stupid idea when you are wet - at the Tewkesbury aquathlon I wore a tri suit and sped up considerably, right from the lower third of the field to the upper third.  Likewise the very distinctive pleasures of elastic laces.  I have ordered some for this Sunday but they haven't arrived yet - I'll be hovering at my letterbox tomorrow morning to see if they come.

The St Peter's Hospice sportive a couple of weekends ago - 75km, very nice, but tempered somewhat by a recent bout of norovirus.  I hadn't eaten all week but made a point of keeping well stocked up throughout the ride.  £1,000 raised for the hospice, plus two radio interviews.

Next? Another sprint tri followed the next week by a much longer one.  Oh, goodness the months are just shooting along!

Next next?  Next next next?  Yep, the big thing, raising more money for the hospice.  I am pushing at work and hoping the college will support me.  I am also going to start contacting corporate sponsors. 

In the meantime, please consider making a donation yourself by clicking here;  St Peter's Hospice

Burnham Aquathlon

It really sounds as if they ran out of suitable names for sports that combine different disciplines - 'aquathlon' sounds like a tooth treatment.  Anyway, the good thing is that it didn't feel like one.

I woke up with a sinking feeling that actually, given Sunday is my leisure time I should at least be doing something I like or might look forward to, and at that point I really wasn't looking forward to it. However, when I finally dragged my carcass there and spent a rather confused 20 mins wandering around trying to work out how to get into the changing room, I was almost looking forward to it.  Almost.



  The organisers had, in their wisdom, decided that I should go first and have number one marked on my arm.  People seemed very impressed, as if I had that number because I won it last year or something like that.  However, in stark contrast to this was my well-informed opinion that actually I was going to be crap at swimming - to the point of getting in the way of the next wave.  I had visions of loads of people stood around with arms folded while I splashed back and forth trying vainly to catch up with the other 'athletes', who were already off on their run.
The reality was that although I definitely sat in the crap camp, I wasn't last to exit the pool, and given my confidence in running thngs suddenly seemed rosier.  I also realised that swimming caps held your goggles on, very useful.

But the first major obstacle, and first key thing I learned, was in the transition.  It was a cold day so I had elected to wear a t-shirt, with the number pinned on.  It was compulsary to wear your number so something had to go on top, and a loose-ish t-shirt seemed a good idea.  Only it wasn't.  Getting a t-shirt on when you are wet is absolutely impossible.  I dragged the fabric down the front but the back seemed resolutely stuck to my shoulders.  I couldn't reach around to pull it down so engaged in a rather comical spinning around to try to catch the shirt and yank it down.  As I reached up with my hands I caught sight of a small girl, presumably the daughter of the marshal staring at me;  I nearly asked her to help me but remembered that I would be disqualified so continued twisting and contorting until the bloody thing finally  dropped down.  Making a mental note to wear a tri suit next time I thundered off, catching a few runners before a rather casual attempt at speeding up to finish with a sprint.

Back to the pool, picking up kit dropped all over Burnham it seemed, shower and a welcome cup of tea.  At this point I was adopted in a most welcome way by some regular competitors and showered with advice about shoes, swimming, and of course the inadvisability of t-shirts.  On top of that I was given details of a swimming coach who could quite possibly turn my efforts into forward movement.

So I finished in the second half - I didn't really expect anything else, but it does hurt to be viewed as a results list filler, rather than a contender.  Well, more training, more gadgets and techniques and my standard aspiration of a top 10% place could be realistic.
No more t-shirts, more technique-focussed swimming, and more commitment.  When I got back I was still buzzing so went out on my bike for 2 hours - that suggests I didn't try hard enough.  Still, I had a great time, met some new people and enjoyed the estuarine delights of Burnham on Sea.

DBMax duathlon Feb 2016

What sport incorporates competitive shoe-changing?  Extreme catwalk?  Nope, duathlons and triathlons, that's what.  This group of sports incorporates a bizarre collection of secondary attributes if you want to make it big; rubber-banding your shoes to your bike, spending all your salary on an aerodynamic bike and then fixing your number on you in such a way that it flaps about like a wind-anchor, having a watch/gps/hrm thing that beeps so much it sounds like R2D2 has hitched a ride -  I could go on.

Anyway, despite the advice of my physio, I rode the DB Max Chilly Duathlon today.  Preparation was hardly ideal - 30 minutes running in total since Christmas, no fast riding either, only putting tri bars on the bike the day before with no chance to see if I can actually ride the bike with them on. And a party until 1 am the night before.
I rocked up my usual three hours too early, got the bike out and then wandered around trying to shelter.  The wind was howling off the course and thin but penetrating rain soaked all my clothing within minutes.
The 10k running race that took place beforehand gave some sense of the conditions out on the motor racing curcuit, and the commentator referred repeatedly to the wind down the back of the course.  I can't say it filled me with excitement but I had vowed to take it steady in order to avoid further inflaming my grumbly achilles and so I could go at whatever pace I wanted.

We lined up, and then without warning we were off.  Like a kid in a playground I shot off too fast, threw my intentions in a puddle and got all competitive - like I always do.  However, lack of fitness soon pulled at my legs and I calmed down ready to enter the transition for the bike section.

On with the next discipline; the shoe change. Not very speedy due to lack of rubber bands to hold the shoes on the bike (the postman had been hinting - he often drops rubber bands in our garden when delivering letters) and then that weird run cyclists do when wearing cycling shoes, toes up, legs bent, back arched.  What I hadn't considered was how slippery wet things are.  I got to the section where you are allowed to mount your bike, my foot slipped off the pedal and down I went, blocking the way for all the other competitors.  I finally got off the ground/water and set off, determined to restore the lost places.
My goodness it was wet out there!  The surface was a slick and anyone who had decided to wear their super-expensive shades would be cursing because the rain blew in our faces like a documentary about Cape Horn.  The first bend was terrifying - it is quite tight and we were all terrified of the wet surface.  The only strategy was to freewheel round in a wide arc grimly muttering 'shitshitshitshit'.  This worked for me but not a teammate of mine who sailed off the road into the mud.  Subsequent laps saw me entering the corner wide and then cutting in - much more successful. Mind you, the person who dropped the gel wrapper right at the corner wasn't popular with me as these high-tech banana skins could take you out before you saw them.  And when I say 'take you out', I don't mean a candlelit meal, I mean rub you along the track at speed while the riders behind pile into you.  To be avoided.

The threat of cramp in my calves meant I never really got beyond training-ride speed for most of the cycling, but I did enjoy pretending I was going fast by making gasping noises and crouching really low over my bars when overtaking some slip of a girl on a mountain bike with a basket. In fact, I reckon I cycle to work faster. Spray jetted up from all the bikes - I don't know why they told us about the drafting rules - why would you want to get that close to a mobile power shower aimed at your face?

Off the bike in the second transition and racked my bike.  Lost my shoes.  Lost my storage box - it had blown away in the howling wind.  Found my shoes, re-racked my bike in the proper place. Pretended I meant to keep moving my bike around like it was some new strategy invented by the Brownlees, finally put my shoes on and bad farewell to my bike.

The second run was ok.  My physio told me that this was the time when my achilles would be hurting because fatigue leads to poor running, and I should consider dropping out at that point.  Drop out? Don't think so.  I think the previous sections had been taken so steadily that I still had some energy - in fact I know that because after I finished I could still jog comfortably instead of looking like an animal with a broken leg.  Round the corner toward the finish line, a quick look back to ensure I wouldn't have some bugger scream past me in front of everyone, and a comfortable run over the line making sure I looked athletic in case the photographer was there like some sort of war correspondent recording the anguish.

Overall, a great day, enhanced in some perverse way by the conditions.  I was pleasantly surprised that I could compete despite absolutely no training.  I will admit to cycling twice a week, but my running shoes have not been put on at all since Christmas until this last week.  I think that is quite an achievement.

These events are nicely inclusive; there are runners and riders of all types and because you are mostly on your own it doesn't matter.  It is quite nice to pretend you are competing with the racing snakes who come jetting past on their BMC carbon thingies, and I am happy to maintain that illusion, despite knowing that if I went for a ride with them we wouldn't be together for very long - maybe 12 seconds or so.  However, I finished 62nd out of 232; hardly my usual aim of the top 10% but not at the back either.
What would I do if I actually did some training?  I am going to have to find out because I have entered their Brecon Titan to raise money for St Peter's Hospice, I don't think I will be able to apply the same lacksadaisical approach.

Evans Ride-it sportive with added moistness

Some days just aren't cut out to be a cycling day, and today was one of those.  The Evans Ride-it Sportive; 70 miles with the start in Bristol all sounded great, but the February date clearly included some risk of poor weather.  Well, it didn't disappoint!

I wasn't going to back out: after all I have loads of winter cycling kit and I hadn't attended my usual training session yesterday.  I just needed to ignore the weather and get my butt out there.

As I pulled into the car park the dashboard thermometer said 2c, but that felt optimistic when I pulled myself away from the car heater - the rain occasionally morphed into hail and my hands were freezing before I had registered.  However, there was a significant number of people there including myself...........



Listen friends, I have been sat here trying to write this for an hour now, and nothing.  So, here are the important bits.  It was f**cking cold but warmed up later.  My gloves turned into sponges.  I ate 6 small pieces of flapjack.  My legs are tired, but what do you expect from 70 miles including Burrington Combe and Dundry?  I went for a pee but I was wearing so many clothes that I couldn't, umm, find myself. Oh, and there was a cow wandering across the road at the top of Burrington.  It was a great day.

The rest of the afternoon has been spent staring at my laptop and wondering whether the skin on my face will ever recover.  Just in case you get in a debate with yourself about going out in poor weather, get out there - wear merino baselayers, your best jacket and an optimistic smile and all will be fine.

Photos to follow, although I noticed the photographer had his super-expensive camera in a plastic bag so don't expect the resolution to be too sharp.

My latest challenge, and I mean challenge

So, I have announced to anyone in the world who will listen that I have entered a triathlon in the summer, to raise money for St Peter's Hospice.  But not any old triathlon, oh no: more like one that comes under the category of 'stupid'.  The Brecon Titan seems to give off strong hints about its toughness in its name - 1.2 mile lake swim, 60 hilly miles plus a half marathon distance run to close things. I have spoken to a  number of experienced triathletes about it and the most common response is a raising of the eyebrows and questions about my previous triathlon experience.  None.

So why have I potentially wasted the £100 entry fee, planned to spend loads of money on kit that likely won't be used ever again, and ruined my spring by being compelled to train all waking hours?  Well, for starters, my friend Heidi suggested it and I felt that after she had entered, my refusing to enter would be a massive slur on my sporting capabilities.  And of course, I could raise money by encouraging people to give me money as an act of sympathy.

One month after entering, here is where I am;

Good things;

1.  I can actually swim front crawl without drowning (even if a bystander might think I look as if I am)
2.  There is still a lot of time before the big day.  In addition, the organisers have planned a 'dry run' (ie. no swimming), complete with camping, so I can familiarise myself with the cycling route
3.  I have entered some other events in the build-up, thus providing some structure to my Spring.
4.  It is good to have a decent challenge rather than something I could already do (see Bristol Half)
5.  For the first time in my life I have a bit of time as I am currently working three days per week - plenty of time to actually train
6.  I have been going to the triathlon club swimming sessions (twice so far, that must surely qualify me as a regular).  They do view me as a charity case, but surely it is good to do something that is outside my comfort zone for once.  I am meeting new people, although I have discovered that swimming desn't lend itself to casual chatting - water pours in your mouth.  The changing room afterward seems to be full of people in their own little world and everyone changes in silence; presumably something to do with the sensory-deprivation nature of being in the pool with covers over your eyes and a hat sealing up your ears.  Oh well, one or two were chatty before we got in
7.  There is a cool machine for drying your costume.  Drop the offending article in the machine and it spins it so dry that you can put it in your work bag without any deleterious effect on random papers, or more importantly your lunch.  Which in the case of triathletes seems to be seeds and strange protein shakes
8.  Cycling, unsurprisingly, is going well with a few sportive rides under my belt already, not to mention an exhilerating couple of hours at the local velodrome

Bad things;

1.  I have irritated my achilles tendon.  The physio is talking about months to heal - no running at all
2.  As above; it is such a big setback it deserves two points
3.  Swimming is torture - I can't do it, I am the slowest in the training sessions I go to and there is nothing to look at.  Forget all that getting inside your head and it being meditative nonsense - it is just boring.  The only thing that enlivens it is the constant fear of being overtaken.  I just need to apply the cyclists' rule number five (google it)
4.  Every time I cycle anywhere it is either icy or pissing with rain, or both, and always dark.  My life teeters in the balance with only a rack of expensive rear lights between me and being splatted on the main road to Weston-super-Mare
5.  I have some weight to lose - I know because I looked at the other swimmers this morning, then caught myself in the mirror.  Yes yes, seals aren't exactly stick-thin, but they only compete in the first discipline.  All the other swimmers seem to be so broad-shouldered and lean that they look like an upside-down Toblerone for Weightwatchers.  I on the other hand, look like a pregnant twig

To sum up, I am planning more than I am carrying out, mainly due to my injury.  This could place the whole project in danger, although I suppose I could just do the first two disciplines and drop out before the one I am fastest at - not much of an option.  Only time will tell.  In the meantime I am carrying out heel raises, glute strengtheners, twisty things, and using the foam roller on my back twice a day - even at work.
Swimming needs work - I need to attend the training sessions, and I also need a coach who won't chortle and splutter when they see me - let's call it inclusive practice.

I'll try to update as I go along.  And I'll try to remember why I am doing this.  As Jenny and I both thought during the Bristol Half, running is a lot easier than finding out you are dying of cancer.

Please consider a donation to Karin's tribute page as payment for the entertainment you have received in reading this;  I need to raise at least £18,000 to pay the hospice back for the treatment Karin received.

http://www.stpetershospice.org.uk/support-us/tribute-pages/tribute-for-karin-dixon-wilkins-81/

back on the block

I went to see the consultant about my knee a few weeks ago - when I asked for the appointment the knee was really swollen, but appointments take so long to book nowadays the swelling had completely disappeared by the time I was called into his office.  No matter; he explained in a very respectful manner that, no, I wasn't wasting his time at all.  In fact he was pleased with what had been happening.  The knee itself was ignored as he pored over the MRI scan and asked me loads of questions about what the symptoms were like.  So I explained about the use of the brace, my half marathon time, my avoidance of fierce downhill descents as he fixed me with the clear gaze of someone who knew everything; like a Zen Master of the NHS.
I was just in the middle of telling him about the triathlon I had been asked to compete in when he suddenly interrupted me, and said 'just do it Mark!'

He went on to explain in honest and quite lyrical terms that as I had some grey hair on my head my knee was also showing some signs of age; there was clearly some damage, but so there would be after 30 years of competitive running.  He was of the opinion that provided I was sensible, paid close attention to any symptoms and kept away from past hobbies that were clearly a bad idea, such as Kung Fu or ultra running, there was still a lot I could do.

I skipped out of his tiny office like a spring lamb, drove home and got my running kit out.  Two hours later I had run all the exuberance out of my system but still felt pleased.  I could do something - maybe not everything I dreamed of, but something.  In a continuation of the excitement I entered the Brecon Titan triathlon - yes it is well-named - and set myself a challenge.

I have until June to get fit - ages yet, but I also need to develop some swimming skills.  So, in the light of all this, despite the arrogantly foul weather today I ran to the swimming pool, swam about 30 lengths, then ran back home.  The rain was so heavy I had to wring my clothes out when I got there, but it worked really well.  I was ravenously hungry when I got home and still keen to do this triathlon, so here goes - I now have to plan a season of events while keeping an eye on the knee.