A sense of fear, panic and drowding. I have been there before. Last time in Penticton. I put my face back in the water to try again. The world before me is dark green and a stream of blue bubbes coarse around my vision. There is a muted throng of splashing sounds echoing in my ears, totally lacking any rhythm. This is what I imagine drowning sounds like.
It's no good. Every stroke needs a breath so I lift my face and as I breathe, green duck-pooey water floods my lungs and someone kicks my arm. I hope an official doesn't hear me swear as I panic and look for the boats.
Last resort, back stroke but my breathing is only controlled enough to permit me to continue in breast stroke. I try unzipping my wetsuit in case it's throttling me but it's the cold that's stollen my puff and only when I get 50m from the finish do I manage a short crawl with my face out of the water in order to avoid being last on to the bank.
I peel down the last of the zip and withdraw frozen, senseless fingers from the neoprene sleeves. The chilly May breeze is warmer than the water and I feel calmer already. I'm glad of Garnier's summer skin moisturiser. It gives me a healthy glow and makes my wetsuit really easy to get off as I srand on the legs and pull my feet out.
Always the cyclist, my shorts give a warm layer, long sleeve top for the breeze, socks, shoes, lid on, gloves. Running in cleats - not so bad on grass. A triumphant leap into the saddle. Time to catch some people - around 30. I eventually drop one persistent hanger-on from Bath. Everyone else seems slow. I am fuelled by this being half of the Lymm distance and TSK cheering me on at Loves Lane.
I look at my time as I enter the closing straight and refuse to do over 35 minutes for a 20km ride so I sprint pointlessly for the line and run, gasping into transition. This sprint lark is HARD!!!
Easy bit. I allow myself to sit for this bit. Shoe change, gloves off. Drink. The helmet is keeping my head warm so I have to go and put that back. On the way out the gates I have to stop to tighten my speedy spoingy laces and inhale some more water from the volunteers.
By now a steady stream of strong runners are catching me up and passing me. Despite reminding myself it's a sprint and will all be over before I know it, the legs won't go any faster. Sadly, the breathing does and I find myself snatching air with every footfall, just as I was 1 hour ago during the swim.
I know I can be a painful hypercondriac at times but not usually during racing. Yet I was wondering how fast they'd get to me if I had a corinary on the far side of the lake. When the marshal pulled alongside on his motorbike in the car park I actually feared he was going to pull me out for my own safety. Still, I managed to continue and, having faught -off the urge to walk I finally get my breath under control for the finish area and start of my second lap.
I actually manage a chat with someone starting her first lap and that's enough to spurr me on. The real racing men are starting to squeeze through and I make room for them, happy enough just to be finishing soon.
Closer still to the finish and I'm ramping-up, looking for someone to race with - perhaps even myself. A few extra seconds, a slightly bette pace, even if it's a man on his first lap that I never ever stand a hope of beating.
There's not really anyone around but I manage a bit of extra pace until a lady making victory gestures to her mates is foolish enough to get close enough and loud enough for a sprint finish. Perhaps that was just in my head. Anyway, you snooze you lose.
Swim: 11:35.07 400m
T1: 4:06.9
Bike: 37:15.6 20km
T2:26:58.4
Run: 26:58.4 5km
Total: 1:21.23.1
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