Last Saturday, June 23rd, Tom and I packed up our brand new little Hyundai (RIP Mini, you will be missed!), and embarked upon the 4 hour trek to the terrifying outback, otherwise known as North Wales. Upon arrival, we were greeted by a beautiful coastal town, and a very well organised race. So organised in fact, that a free open top bus had been laid on to give us a commentated bike recce, all with some Erdinger Alcohol Free for the ride. Whether this tour helped us to become more familiar, or simply instilled the fear of God in us at how windy, steep, and technical the course proved to be, remains to be seen. Nonetheless, bus tour complete, we spent a very relaxed and enjoyable evening perusing the sea front, carb loading, and relaxing at the glorious BnB that I had managed to convince Tom to let us stay in. The original plan had been a tent- No thanks, not before race day!
Unusually, we had a late midday start- this related to the tides for swimming in the sea, I have been told. The sea. It looked so calm, and so welcoming, but how wrong I turned out to be! Once our wave was called, the organisers instructed us to enter the water, and flush our wetsuits in order to "acclimatise". The water reportedly being a balmy 17 degrees, being cold was not something that even crossed by mind. However, after 5 minutes of sitting chest deep in the water, a 100m swim to the start, and being asked to tread water there for a further 5-10 minutes, my teeth were chattering, and I was a bundle of nerves. Unfortunately, when you're 100m out to sea, and the other athletes have their game faces on, it's difficult to find a decent pep talk. Fortunately however, there's also no easy way to back out..so as the starting horn blew, I kicked, and made my way out into the swim, head down, let's get this over and done with, or so I thought. I had barely managed a few strokes before my fear set in, and I panicked. Anyone who has ever swum in open water will know, you simply cannot afford to get scared. Because getting scared = poor breathing, and poor breathing = even worse swimming. So head up the WHOLE way, getting increasingly more dizzy and disorientated as I was tossed around in the sea, I managed, just about, to finish the swim. There may have been tears. Although it was the slowest I've ever completed a swim- 20 minutes in fact, I finished, and coming out of the water, I convinced myself that every step forward was another step away from the water, and by some miracle, after the world's slowest transition (I may even have sat down whilst taking my wetsuit off at one point!), I managed to get out onto the bike.
Once on the bike, I probably spent the first 5km just spinning my legs, trying to feel less dizzy and disorientated, and to trying to get the right muscles firing. I attempted to work with a few others as the race was draft legal, however I quickly realised that my performance on the swim meant that the riders around me were going much slower than I needed, and so if I wanted to salvage this race, I was going to have to go it alone. And that is what I did. I battled the first round of climbing, before quickly downing my gel with some water as the course flattened out over the crest, before a dizzying descent back into Llandudno. I think this descent gave me the opportunity to recover, because my time I needed to get going again, I felt much better. My legs were engaged, and my mind was back in the right place. Just in time! I picked up the pace, felt the burn, and started picking off riders at pace. The game was back on. Flying back into the town, I mentally prepared for the final run. A flat run (I thought!) along the promenade, with what I assumed would be wind coming in from the sea. But a short run, and then the finish. And Jelly babies, and beer, and Tom. IDEAL.
Tom was actually waiting for me in transition, diligently playing the role of paparazzi, and shouting in no uncertain terms that I needed to start kicking if I wanted to do well. (Thanks TPS!).
Running out of transition my legs and feet were totally numb, but this seemed to work well, as they weren't aware of the pace I was asking them to move at. I managed to maintain a 4:30km pace, even when a hill appeared out of nowhere, providing the last 500m of running before the turning point. The out and back run gave me such a clear view of where everyone was in front of me, that I cranked up the pace steadily as the 5km wore on. As I was hitting the 4km mark, again, Tom appeared out of nowhere, shouting- nay demanding! - that I catch the girls in front. They were miles away! However, for once, I decided not to argue, and dug deeper than I thought possible to smash the final kilometre, managing not only to take the girls in front, but to take the girl in front of that as well!
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| The calm before the storm, literally! |
Unusually, we had a late midday start- this related to the tides for swimming in the sea, I have been told. The sea. It looked so calm, and so welcoming, but how wrong I turned out to be! Once our wave was called, the organisers instructed us to enter the water, and flush our wetsuits in order to "acclimatise". The water reportedly being a balmy 17 degrees, being cold was not something that even crossed by mind. However, after 5 minutes of sitting chest deep in the water, a 100m swim to the start, and being asked to tread water there for a further 5-10 minutes, my teeth were chattering, and I was a bundle of nerves. Unfortunately, when you're 100m out to sea, and the other athletes have their game faces on, it's difficult to find a decent pep talk. Fortunately however, there's also no easy way to back out..so as the starting horn blew, I kicked, and made my way out into the swim, head down, let's get this over and done with, or so I thought. I had barely managed a few strokes before my fear set in, and I panicked. Anyone who has ever swum in open water will know, you simply cannot afford to get scared. Because getting scared = poor breathing, and poor breathing = even worse swimming. So head up the WHOLE way, getting increasingly more dizzy and disorientated as I was tossed around in the sea, I managed, just about, to finish the swim. There may have been tears. Although it was the slowest I've ever completed a swim- 20 minutes in fact, I finished, and coming out of the water, I convinced myself that every step forward was another step away from the water, and by some miracle, after the world's slowest transition (I may even have sat down whilst taking my wetsuit off at one point!), I managed to get out onto the bike.
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| Thoughts at this very moment: Am I still alive? Who even am I!? |
Tom was actually waiting for me in transition, diligently playing the role of paparazzi, and shouting in no uncertain terms that I needed to start kicking if I wanted to do well. (Thanks TPS!).
Running out of transition my legs and feet were totally numb, but this seemed to work well, as they weren't aware of the pace I was asking them to move at. I managed to maintain a 4:30km pace, even when a hill appeared out of nowhere, providing the last 500m of running before the turning point. The out and back run gave me such a clear view of where everyone was in front of me, that I cranked up the pace steadily as the 5km wore on. As I was hitting the 4km mark, again, Tom appeared out of nowhere, shouting- nay demanding! - that I catch the girls in front. They were miles away! However, for once, I decided not to argue, and dug deeper than I thought possible to smash the final kilometre, managing not only to take the girls in front, but to take the girl in front of that as well!
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| A determined sprint for the line! |
I crossed the finishing line, and shortly burst into tears (again!) but this time happy tears- I think. I have never undergone such a mentally tough race, and I have never managed to turn a race around quite so dramatically, either. Although my swim time put me out of contention for a decent positioning, it kept me at least in a qualifying time for the World Championships in Rotterdam in September. So it looks like the GB suit will be seeing the light of day again after all...but luckily this time for a race WITHOUT a sea swim. That part I am not in any rush to repeat! But until then, on to the next training block, head firmly down for the graft.
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June 28, 2017
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