The official results are out on the event website: click here. I’m relieved that I didn’t compete on Sunday, as there were even fewer female participants – although it appears that I wouldn’t have been the last out of the water on Sunday (unless their transitions were really slow).
My training regime has ground to a halt this week, although I did walk about three miles around London to get to a meeting yesterday because of the tube strike. That was nice; all too often I dive for the underground for the sake of speed(!) I remember seeing somewhere that a group of students had created a tube map with approximate walking distances between stations marked on it. Must try to find it because it’s sometimes quicker to walk than wait around.
So, lots of running planned for the weekend to kick-start the Great North Run training – interspersed with a certain amount of beer and bacon sarnie consumption of course.
Saturday started at 5am when I woke up in Eastbourne’s smallest hotel room and was unable to get back to sleep again. The hotel did have location on its side, and I was able to peek out of the curtains to view the sea conditions. I was relieved to find the water was pretty flat, with near perfect weather conditions.
I don’t really remember the drive to Seaford where the South Coast Classic Triathlon was taking place, but we managed to find the carpark, register and get our bearings around the transition area. Armgard seemed quite relaxed about the whole thing – but she had done a couple of sprint events before so was a bit more clued up about the prep. I felt slightly sick. Phil looked terrified.
Wetsuits on and several deep breaths later, we ambled reluctantly up to the beach, and the ladies competing in the Classic event were called forward for the safety briefing. As Armgard and I moved towards the marshall, I looked around to see if I could spot a few other people that might be complete beginners. It wasn’t hard to find the field of female competitors: there were just 11 other people. Now, I’ve done a couple of London marathons and seven or eight half-marathons, but they always have thousands of competitors, many of whom are beginners. Oh dear, I thought, this was a seriously stupid idea. After the safety briefing, a female group photo was taken with the mayor and his horn – to much sniggering from the boys. Then we edged towards the water.
We had to swim out from an orange buoy to a yellow one, then swim along a few hundred metres to another yellow buoy and back in diagonally to the orange marker; then do a second loop. I swam a panicky cross between front crawl and breaststroke initially, as most of the other women sped off ahead. It was choppier than it looked from the beach, and I soon realised that doing breaststroke was going to involve swallowing an awful lot of water, so forced myself to relax into a crawl as the current helped us along on the diagonal back to the first buoy. One other competitor and myself straggled along at the back of the pack, but there were a couple of marshalls in canoes nearby and it was reassuring to know they were keeping an eye on us. The second loop was a little demoralising as the men that had started 10 minutes afterwards started to lap us and head out of the water. I plodded along just behind the other girl and was hugely relieved to get back towards the beach and pleasantly shocked to see the time on my watch: just short of 27 minutes.
I hauled myself out of the water, winced as I ran across the shingle in bare feet up the beach and over into the transition area. Managed to get my wetsuit off without falling over, put my trainers, helmet and sunglasses on, took a swig of Lucozade, stuffed a few Jelly Babies in my mouth and hopped onto the bike. The cycle section was a relatively flat two-mile loop along the seafront road, and I really enjoyed powering along. For the first time, I was able to get a good look at some of the other competitors – the vast majority of whom had obviously taken their training and nutrition regime a lot more seriously than me. Disconcertingly, a lot of the men had shaved their legs – making it difficult, at times, to ascertain whether a male or female competitor was overtaking. I kept up an average speed of around 17mph, which meant I did each loop in just under 7.5 minutes. Clearly, some people were going a hell of a lot faster: I distinctly remember seeing one bottom pass me three times.
Before too much longer, it was back to the transition area to dump my bike, remove my helmet, take another swig of Lucozade and a handful of Jelly Babies – then up onto the promenade for the run. Having done a fair few running races, it was bizarre to find that they hadn’t closed the pathway to other pedestrians. So, I found myself jogging along, having to dodge other people, children and dogs – most of whom seemed completely oblivious to the lycra-clad nutters running around them. As I reached the far end of the first loop, I nearly cried when I realised I’d only run 1.25k and still had 8.75 to go. My legs were like jelly, and it was nothing to do with the sweets. But actually, the second and third loops weren’t as bad. Armgard passed me on her final lap at the end of my third, and I rather wished I was following her into the finish area. Nonetheless, I completed the last lap…and finally crossed the line. My total race time was 3:01, and I was placed ninth out of the 13 women. Not bad considering I was last out of the water.
I really enjoyed the race, and it didn’t take me long to decide that I will try the sprint distance and – with some swimming coaching – would have another go at the Classic/Olympic distance to see if I can crack three hours.
The South Coast Classic was very well organised for a small number and the marshalls were very supportive. But the event itself isn’t great for a beginner: a little more information pre-event would have helped enormously. I found it far less sociable than the marathons and half-marathons I’ve done before – I’m not sure if that was simply the size of the field or the different nature of the event. I’d also look for a more interesting course for my next tri challenge.
Sitting in my office now with a sandwich and a cup of tea, it feels like a long time ago. I feel a general sense of muscle fatigue, but no real pain points. Lucky really…I need to rack up the running miles in advance of the Great North Run in less than four weeks’ time!
Have had an absolutely frantic week at work and thought I might be coming down with a sore throat, so haven’t done any exercise since Monday: is this what they call tapering down? Used the time to “carbo-load” instead (some sensible pasta, as well as some not-so-sensible flapjack and chocolate).
Also had a minor panic about the swimming hat situation. The one provided by the organisers is compulsory, but I remember reading an article in Runner’s World a couple of months ago that suggested wearing two (with goggles in between) to avoid losing the goggles at the chaotic start of the swim. The fact that I will probably be flailing around at the back of the pack escaped me this morning, so I popped into town on my way back from a meeting to pick up a hat from Total Fitness. I don’t know if I have an abnormally large head or just too much hair, but I can’t actually get the thing on my head, let alone achieve that streamlined pro look.
For good measure, I also grabbed some elastic laces from the tri shop on the basis that “every little helps” when it comes to transitions: even if I fall over as I try to extract myself from my wetsuit, at least my shoes will go on quickly.
I’m irrationally worried about the bit before the race and there is very little information from the organisers so far. I guess we find out when we register early on Saturday morning. What needs to be put where? How do I lay out my kit? Is there somewhere to leave warm clothes for afterwards? Should I put Lucozade and Jelly Babies with my bike or wherever I end up leaving my bike before I set off on my run? What if I get a puncture? It’s all so much more complex than a marathon when you just lob your kit bag in a bus and pick it up again at the end.
Having just packed my things into the car, I’m now feeling more than a little apprehensive. It doesn’t help that, when I casually mention it to people for the first time, they typically look slightly taken aback and say how brave I am. Brave or stupid?
I kept my word to myself yesterday, and ran my favourite route around Bath’s Skyline. You can join the trail about half a mile from our flat, so the total run is about seven miles. Unfortunately, the first two miles are uphill with barely a break. Once you’re up high though, you are rewarded with stunning views and the route takes you around the city across fields and then back down through woodland. It can be muddy although, thanks to the recent spell of warm weather, was fairly dry yesterday. It’s also quite steep here and there, so you need to watch your step. I tend to try to stay light on my feet on the steep bits so I can adjust my weight if needs be.
Yesterday afternoon, Talan and went for a leisurely bike ride along the canal. The tow path wasn’t built for road bikes, so I took my old mountain bike instead. It was like getting into a tank after exiting a sports car. We did about 6.5 miles, stopping off at The George in Bathampton for a pint along the way. Cycling behind Talan in his handbike is quite amusing – most people have never seen one, so he gets a few stares.
Pootled off to the gym this morning. Was only going to do some resistance work, but warmed up on one of the spin bikes and decided to keep going for about 45 minutes. They’re much truer to a real bike than the exercise bikes you normally find in a gym, and I like using music to dictate the tempo with which I ride. I’m an unashamed pop tart when it comes to gym music, and this morning’s highlights were Republica/Ready To Go (fast seated sprints during the chorusy bits) and Bodyrockers/I Like The Way You Move (climb out of the seat).
Now I’m back at home with a good post-gym smoothie to hand (put a banana, big tablespoon of peanut butter, some natural yoghurt and a splash of milk in a blender). Try it before you go “bleurgh”…
I’ve had a little twinge in my lower back for the past couple of days. I’d like to say this was a result of over-training, but the reality is that it had something to do with going karting with a crowd from work on Wednesday evening. I should have gone for a run or swim yesterday evening after I finished work, but decided a cold beer in the garden was preferable.
So this morning, it was time to have a go at a mini-tri in the gym. Simon, the PT, volunteered to do it with me – at least the cycle and run bits – and monitored my heart rate and RPE (rate of perceived exertion). As I understand it, the RPE should theoretically correspond to the heart rate – although I think mine was a bit out of synch. I haven’t figured out why my heart rate seems so much higher than other people’s despite putting in roughly the same amount of effort. It’s quite normal for me to cycle comfortably at 170 and run at 180 – when 80% of my max is about 152. If anyone can explain this in simple terms, feel free to comment.
Anyway, we did 30 mins on the spin bikes and 30 mins on the treadmill. As always, it was good to cycle and run alongside someone else. We also did a mammoth stretching session, which I needed. I’m pretty flexible but there are a couple of tight spots in my back and glutes.
Next stop, the pool for a short swim. It was full of small children and Dads, but they were mostly playing around in the flumes, so I did 30 lengths of crawl (sooooo much nicer than in the sea) then sat in the jacuzzi thing which was great for the back. Then, just to avoid taking the whole thing too seriously, I took a ride down the flume with the kids. Marvellous fun.
So, one week to go now. I think I’m ready – at least to complete it. I won’t be breaking any records timewise…and I’m still slightly worried about coming last. Simon says I should taper down the training from here, but I think I’ll attempt a half-decent run tomorrow: it’s only five weeks until the Great North Run…
I’ve been taking the proverbial out of my tri training partner, Phil, for falling off his bike on the odd occasion as he gets used to using cleats. This came back to bite me on the bum (and knee and elbow) last night when, as I was standing completely still on the pavement with my right foot locked into its toe clip, I somehow managed to catch the front wheel on a paving slab and fell – seemingly in slow motion – flat on the floor. A car was passing at the time. Phil wasn’t around to witness the event, but laughed quite a lot when he arrived.
However, he got his comeuppance about six miles into the ride when his chain fell off, he couldn’t get his feet out of the cleats (again) and also fell – seemingly in slow motion – flat on the floor. I laughed so hard, I nearly fell into a hedge.
Anyway, after these incidents, we managed 16.25 miles around Pangbourne, Upper Basildon and Ashampstead and Theale – not bad for a school night. Average speed was 14.4mph, top speed 32.2.
My cycling and running training took a bit of a backseat to the swimming last week, so I started my day with a spinning class. I was the only person who thought that it might be a good idea to get up at 7am and fling my legs around in circles, so it was just me and the instructor, Laura.
She is one of those gorgeous girls, whose perfectly applied makeup and straightened hair remains in place at the end of the class. I am not.
After 10 minutes, there was a puddle of sweat under my bike and, by the time my hour was up, my bike was nearly afloat. Laura was barely glowing.
I’ve now got a dreadful headache because I haven’t drunk enough water this morning to replace the lost fluids. I found, during marathon training a few years ago, that Lucozade was the only thing that would stop me getting headaches after long training runs – tastes pretty vile but does seem to rehydrate you quite quickly and replace all those lost salts. I’ve put some on my shopping list.
Managed to get out of the swim on Thursday in favour of a sail on the Dart with Talan and Rhonda (another sailing novice) to Turnaware Beach where we had a picnic with the others. It was a gusty day, which made being out on the trapeze a slightly scary experience. One particularly severe blast of wind pulled one of the hulls about four feet out of the water with me standing on it. Being roughly nine feet and four inches above the water at 15 knots is exhilarating as well as petrifying. I honestly thought we were going to flip the boat. Happily, we managed to sail back to Restronguet Sailing Club without further incident.
Yesterday, I headed down to Gyllyngvase Beach with Martha and Rhonda for a proper open water swim. Rhonda has done a couple of sprint triathlons before, but never in the sea; and the expression on her face as she paddled in was similar to the one that I must have been wearing the first time I tip-toed into the Creek last Saturday. The water was colder than in the Creek, but I was able to see the bottom which was strangely comforting. We stayed in for about 40 minutes, swimming up and down the beach between the lifeguard flags.
Luckily it was quite a calm day, so I was able to practise breathing on both sides. Rhonda seems to think that breathing on one side (my right) is causing me to swim to the left of whatever target I’m trying to head towards. This theory was born out by an attempt to breathe on my left side only which caused me to turn 180 degrees without realising. Obviously I need to be able to breathe on both sides, about every third stroke instead of every second – more difficult that you’d expect in cold water.
I was thinking about a few loops of Pendennis Castle on the bike after my swim, but the girls suggested tea and cake at the Gyllyngvase Beach Café and that was infinitely preferable.
Anyway, we’re leaving Restronguet today to head to Newquay for a wedding. I’m immensely glad that I’ve had the opportunity to practice swimming in the sea before the event and very grateful to Martha for making me do it almost every day for a week. It’s way more difficult that I’d anticipated – you probably need to put in twice the effort that you would do in a pool – but I’m hoping I’ll be able to manage it on the day. I’m just worried about coming last now…
I timed the swim today: 33 minutes in total, (about 16 each way with a minute’s breather at the pub). Not good – on the basis that 1,500m takes me about 35 minutes in the pool, our swim to the Pandora and back is much less than a mile. How depressing.
Still, I think the grimy water might have youthful properties. I was asked for ID as I tried to buy wine at Asda in Falmouth. It made my day.
It was an overcast and drizzly day in Cornwall today, so we had a very lazy morning, a pasty and a potter around Falmouth, then caught up with some friends for a cup of tea. Before I knew it, it was high tide and therefore time for the daily swim. I wasn’t looking forward to it.
The first bit is definitely the worst. Even in a wetsuit, it’s extremely cold. I can’t seem to hurl myself in like Martha does; I just dither about on the edge for several minutes feeling miserable. Once in with my head under and my body acclimatised, the swim out towards the Pandora isn’t too bad. Martha takes the lead and we use various boats as incremental targets to crawl towards.
Today, we stopped at the pontoon and said “hello” to Mark and a couple of friends. There were also some kids pulling crabs out of the water on bits of string which was a bit disconcerting.
The way back is horrible, against the current and the wind. It’s not even half a mile, but it feels like three. It might actually be more like three because, try as I might, I can’t seem to swim in a straight line. I identify a target in my line of vision and swim in what I think is a dead straight line – but the next time I look up, I’m about 45 degrees off the target. I end up zig-zagging along, doing twice the distance and feeling knackered. I didn’t realise just how useful those lines were on the bottom of the swimming pool.
Anyway, back home now – showered and dressed with a glass of wine to hand. I can’t even taste the seawater any more. Mark’s cooking a Thai beef curry and I’ve made a cheesecake. This is why I exercise…
