Last Sunday, on 3rd June, I took on my longest race to date: Deva Standard Distance Triathlon. Sure, it was no Ironman, but let me tell you, 1500m swim/40km bike/10km run was no joke at all. Let me explain...
Having recently started working with a coach, and spending some time working through my goals, it became clear that there's no way I could swerve tackling the Olympic distance much longer. So, decision made, we decided there's no time like the present...and so giving myself a solid three weeks notice, I entered Deva Triathlon. That was it, committed - there was no turning back.
Then, classically, a week before racing, I picked up a virus. It was the sneaky kind, the kind where you think you're okay, but in reality, I had zero energy, didn't sleep well, and was generally not in a fit state to train. But did that stop me stubbornly trying anyway..? No, no it did not *insert eyeroll*.. So that's lesson number one, I guess. Fortunately, the worst of it wore off in time for Deva, so on the Saturday, Tom and I packed up the trusty Hyundai with a mountain of kit (I swear triathletes pack more than the Girl's trip to Ibiza!?) - and headed up to the North (Chester IS the North, right...?).
Getting there the day before definitely does wonders for pre-race nerves. It's great to get registered and signed up, and have a good look around the course with time to play with, we just had to keep our eyes off the scary fast looking types with spaceships instead of bikes...and it was all good. Recce and registration complete, we headed to an Italian restaurant for epic huge bowls of pasta. Carbs upon carbs were easy to come by, which is a relief as Tom and I can get through enough to feed a small army, let's be real. We then headed back to our hotel, where they kindly let us store our bikes in our room, so a great nights sleep was had by all, nailed it. Early the next morning, it was time for the classic pre-race ritual of nervous porridge force feeding. I literally have TPS sitting in front of me making jokes, trying to distract me from my nerves, so that I get a decent amount of porridge down me before I start threatening to throw up... ehehe. The joys of having an anxy wife, isn't Tom lucky!
We then headed down to race start, where we racked up bikes, and joined forces with our favourite race buddy and her support crew - dog and all, of course! Before I knew it, we were all lined up by the river, facing a race director and his pre-race briefing. As you can see..we all have our own quirks when it comes to getting in the zone - none of it involving much in the way of listening...
Luckily, there was a good chunk of time to get in the water, warm up, get accustomed to the temperature, and realise that the river was.... completely filthy. You could not see your hand in front of your face, so that was a joy. Then, lining up alongside Charlie, the starting gun sounded. It all started so well. Nice even stroke, nice even breathing, stroke 2-3, breath, push, glide. I was off, there were people around me, but it was going to be okay. Everything was fine.
150m later, and a normal breath was met by a splash of water in the face. Nothing serious, but enough to break my stroke, and give me time to glance up far enough to notice I was parallel with the finish pontoon. And that's where it all spiraled out of control...Suddenly, out of nowhere, the negative part of brain took over, and the best way I can describe it is that it was like when you nearly fall asleep and then get shocked awake, heart running wild. I went from calm to full of shock in an instant, and all the self doubt I'd worked so hard on banishing came flooding back. I lost my breathing, and I forgot all the coping mechanisms I'd learnt. All I could think of was attracting a kayaker and getting out of the turmoil. My brain was working overdrive at this point, mocking me for even believing that I could swim 1500m in the first place. Luckily, this is where the organisers of Deva Triathlon proved that not all heroes wear capes. Someone swiftly towed me to the side, where an organiser was waiting for me, held my hands, and talked me down. I don't remember details, but I remember a calming, patient voice, telling me time and time again that I was alright, and everything was okay. Suddenly, everything snapped back into focus, the hero man was cracking a joke, and I caught myself cracking a genuine smile, and realising that he wasn't lying - everything really was totally fine. Somehow, superhero man managed not only to convince me to continue the race, but also that I could get BACK in the water, and get the course done. No, I wouldn't break any records, but I would get it done for me, and that would be the best possible reward. Seeing the shadow of doubt return to my face at that thought, he even arranged for the kayaker who rescued me to escort me the entire rest of the course for reassurance. It truly was amazing. So, to what felt like a rapturous applause (truly, these people were incredible, did I mention!?), and an actual kiss on the head, I headed back into the depths of the river, to get my head down and stop messing around.
The rest of the swim passed like a dream. Admittedly, I was now in between waves, so I didn't have people around me to contend with, but I was totally calm, and as promised, every time I took a breath, I could see the body of a kayak alongside me. By the time I reached the turning point, I was even catching the tail end of my wave again! I couldn't believe how much I'd turned it around . There's even proof that as I got out the swim, the relief was clearly written all over my face. People are honestly amazing sometimes.
I then jogged, nay, SHUFFLED (it was a steep hill plus steps, okay!), to transition, and hopped onto the bike, with cheers from Dave, and the knowledge that the best was now to come. Settling swiftly into a steady rhythm, I settled in and gradually picked off people, ensuring that I was always pushing and burning on my legs, but constantly reminding myself that there was 40km to be spent here, rather than the 20km I'd been used to. Determined to make back as much time as possible, I made like a turtle and tucked into my best aero, only popping my head up at junctions, where absolutely necessary (okay, maybe also the off photo..). I was on a mission.
Coming smoothly into second transition, by some miracle I managed to take a flying dismount..WITHOUT actually taking my feet out of my clipped-in shoes first..so that was a miracle in itself that I didn't end up colliding with the tarmac, go figure!
Heading out onto the run, the sun had come out in full force, so it was beating down hard - and being super sensitive to heat, I knew full well that the run would be a slow one. Nonetheless, the determined me was back, so head down, keeping an eye on my heart rate, I got on with the three lap grind. I'll be honest, it was emotional. I saw Charlie and Tom out finishing off their laps, and the love and encouraging shouts flying around were just beyond fantastic. Never underestimate the power of your words to buoy other people up! Every lap I heard shouts willing me on, and every lap saw me break down a little more with emotion as I had to run yet again past the finish for another lap. But nonetheless, the final lap surely came round, and thanks to keeping my heart rate in check, I managed to avoid blowing up completely.
Running into the finish, all I could see was Charlie waiting for me, arms outreached, and so digging deep, down somewhere to a place that I didn't even know existed, I pushed up one gear further and sprinted under the gantry, collapsing, sobbing, into Charlie's arms for one of the world's greatest hugs. I had made it.
Nearly three hours of pain, 1500m of swimming turmoil, and grinding out battling my demons on my own - finally back in the company of the people who support me, and build me up, relentlessly. I can't begin to describe how great that felt. Keep chasing those demons down, people, because even though the path won't be straight, nah, it'll be windy and difficult, but you will realise that you're bigger than them - and that you can work to break them down, little by little.
Having recently started working with a coach, and spending some time working through my goals, it became clear that there's no way I could swerve tackling the Olympic distance much longer. So, decision made, we decided there's no time like the present...and so giving myself a solid three weeks notice, I entered Deva Triathlon. That was it, committed - there was no turning back.
Then, classically, a week before racing, I picked up a virus. It was the sneaky kind, the kind where you think you're okay, but in reality, I had zero energy, didn't sleep well, and was generally not in a fit state to train. But did that stop me stubbornly trying anyway..? No, no it did not *insert eyeroll*.. So that's lesson number one, I guess. Fortunately, the worst of it wore off in time for Deva, so on the Saturday, Tom and I packed up the trusty Hyundai with a mountain of kit (I swear triathletes pack more than the Girl's trip to Ibiza!?) - and headed up to the North (Chester IS the North, right...?).
Getting there the day before definitely does wonders for pre-race nerves. It's great to get registered and signed up, and have a good look around the course with time to play with, we just had to keep our eyes off the scary fast looking types with spaceships instead of bikes...and it was all good. Recce and registration complete, we headed to an Italian restaurant for epic huge bowls of pasta. Carbs upon carbs were easy to come by, which is a relief as Tom and I can get through enough to feed a small army, let's be real. We then headed back to our hotel, where they kindly let us store our bikes in our room, so a great nights sleep was had by all, nailed it. Early the next morning, it was time for the classic pre-race ritual of nervous porridge force feeding. I literally have TPS sitting in front of me making jokes, trying to distract me from my nerves, so that I get a decent amount of porridge down me before I start threatening to throw up... ehehe. The joys of having an anxy wife, isn't Tom lucky!
We then headed down to race start, where we racked up bikes, and joined forces with our favourite race buddy and her support crew - dog and all, of course! Before I knew it, we were all lined up by the river, facing a race director and his pre-race briefing. As you can see..we all have our own quirks when it comes to getting in the zone - none of it involving much in the way of listening...
 |
| Listening hard or hardly listening...? |
Luckily, there was a good chunk of time to get in the water, warm up, get accustomed to the temperature, and realise that the river was.... completely filthy. You could not see your hand in front of your face, so that was a joy. Then, lining up alongside Charlie, the starting gun sounded. It all started so well. Nice even stroke, nice even breathing, stroke 2-3, breath, push, glide. I was off, there were people around me, but it was going to be okay. Everything was fine.
150m later, and a normal breath was met by a splash of water in the face. Nothing serious, but enough to break my stroke, and give me time to glance up far enough to notice I was parallel with the finish pontoon. And that's where it all spiraled out of control...Suddenly, out of nowhere, the negative part of brain took over, and the best way I can describe it is that it was like when you nearly fall asleep and then get shocked awake, heart running wild. I went from calm to full of shock in an instant, and all the self doubt I'd worked so hard on banishing came flooding back. I lost my breathing, and I forgot all the coping mechanisms I'd learnt. All I could think of was attracting a kayaker and getting out of the turmoil. My brain was working overdrive at this point, mocking me for even believing that I could swim 1500m in the first place. Luckily, this is where the organisers of Deva Triathlon proved that not all heroes wear capes. Someone swiftly towed me to the side, where an organiser was waiting for me, held my hands, and talked me down. I don't remember details, but I remember a calming, patient voice, telling me time and time again that I was alright, and everything was okay. Suddenly, everything snapped back into focus, the hero man was cracking a joke, and I caught myself cracking a genuine smile, and realising that he wasn't lying - everything really was totally fine. Somehow, superhero man managed not only to convince me to continue the race, but also that I could get BACK in the water, and get the course done. No, I wouldn't break any records, but I would get it done for me, and that would be the best possible reward. Seeing the shadow of doubt return to my face at that thought, he even arranged for the kayaker who rescued me to escort me the entire rest of the course for reassurance. It truly was amazing. So, to what felt like a rapturous applause (truly, these people were incredible, did I mention!?), and an actual kiss on the head, I headed back into the depths of the river, to get my head down and stop messing around.
 |
| Me - mid panic, feat. the superhero squad |
The rest of the swim passed like a dream. Admittedly, I was now in between waves, so I didn't have people around me to contend with, but I was totally calm, and as promised, every time I took a breath, I could see the body of a kayak alongside me. By the time I reached the turning point, I was even catching the tail end of my wave again! I couldn't believe how much I'd turned it around . There's even proof that as I got out the swim, the relief was clearly written all over my face. People are honestly amazing sometimes.
 |
| No, I have no idea how I'm smiling either! |
I then jogged, nay, SHUFFLED (it was a steep hill plus steps, okay!), to transition, and hopped onto the bike, with cheers from Dave, and the knowledge that the best was now to come. Settling swiftly into a steady rhythm, I settled in and gradually picked off people, ensuring that I was always pushing and burning on my legs, but constantly reminding myself that there was 40km to be spent here, rather than the 20km I'd been used to. Determined to make back as much time as possible, I made like a turtle and tucked into my best aero, only popping my head up at junctions, where absolutely necessary (okay, maybe also the off photo..). I was on a mission.
 |
| Will pop out of my turtle shell for photos...whoops! |
Coming smoothly into second transition, by some miracle I managed to take a flying dismount..WITHOUT actually taking my feet out of my clipped-in shoes first..so that was a miracle in itself that I didn't end up colliding with the tarmac, go figure!
Heading out onto the run, the sun had come out in full force, so it was beating down hard - and being super sensitive to heat, I knew full well that the run would be a slow one. Nonetheless, the determined me was back, so head down, keeping an eye on my heart rate, I got on with the three lap grind. I'll be honest, it was emotional. I saw Charlie and Tom out finishing off their laps, and the love and encouraging shouts flying around were just beyond fantastic. Never underestimate the power of your words to buoy other people up! Every lap I heard shouts willing me on, and every lap saw me break down a little more with emotion as I had to run yet again past the finish for another lap. But nonetheless, the final lap surely came round, and thanks to keeping my heart rate in check, I managed to avoid blowing up completely.
 |
| That final push concentration face |
 |
| As photos that speak louder than words go, this one has to be up there! |
Nearly three hours of pain, 1500m of swimming turmoil, and grinding out battling my demons on my own - finally back in the company of the people who support me, and build me up, relentlessly. I can't begin to describe how great that felt. Keep chasing those demons down, people, because even though the path won't be straight, nah, it'll be windy and difficult, but you will realise that you're bigger than them - and that you can work to break them down, little by little.
 |
| You'd be smiling too if you'd seen the post race buffet! |
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Chester
June 13, 2018
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