Worthing Standard Triathlon - ITU European Qualifiers 2016

Rollercoaster.

Driving down to Brighton on a bank holiday Friday.  Watching the queuing traffic on the North-bound carriageway as we sailed through all the way to Gatwick before reaching any traffic.  Then we were off again and arrived, partially sweltering at 10:30pm to unload the car into my friend's house as our weekend base.

I had a poor night's sleep - heat, an open window and noisy neighbours, a snoring tiger who slept in the middle of the bed and left me switching between the edge of the mattress and the cat sofa.

Registration was a pleasure as I bumped into a team mate at registration. She wanted to remain nameless as it was her first standard distance race. Still,  a real pleasure to catch up and offer some encouragement though I was a little stuck for advice to give as she is an accomplished sprint racer.  It was however, frighteningly hot.  I sweltered through a walk in town then drove to registration to save my legs and get some time in an air conditioned car.  I yearned for my cool, stone house in Yorkshire.  We drove the bike route to get familiar with it and a slightly complicated turn-around point and also to pass a bit more time in the air conditioning of the car and just about managed to drink enough to stay hydrated before going to bed.

Thankfully, with a single mattress pulled onto the floor of our room and ear plugs, I had a much better night's sleep and was actually ready to get up at 5:15am for breakfast and race packing as the wind battered the windows in the kitchen.  The sky blackened as we drove east and rain spattered the car - or was it sea spray?  Hard to tell.

In Worthing, the weather was very different from registration.  I actually queued for the loo wearing my fleece. Straight to the start line. We were counted into the water and allowed a quick familiarisation swim before being pulled out to do an impressive running start into the crashing waves. They literally were 4 ft tall. On the start line I was laughing. Excited. I would happily have spent all day in there playing on a surf board or just body surfing. I thought the swim was going to be a blast! I rubbed my hands together with glee.

The siren sounded and we threw ourselves at the waves. Belly flopping into the waves seemed more feasible than running and thankfully there was soon enough water to support my weight and I started swimming.

For about 4 minutes I tried to keep with the group but keeping and swimming into are different things and I found my long, slim frame getting buffetted left and right by the waves.  It was almost impossible for me to swim crawl in a straight line and less possible for me to breathe.  I really couldn't time the waves and was either fighting for breath to stay on course or being smacked in the face by a 5 foot wave.

The kayak support were rapidly waving at me to change my line just to stay on the right side of the buoy and once safely around that, things rapidly got worse and I resorted to breast stroke just to keep myself on line and get my breath back.  Every time I stuck my face in the water I got blown inside the buoys towards the shore.  I accidentally swam into another competitor who got quite pissed off with me - justifiably - and when someone started swimming on my feet I just screamed, "oh for fuck's sake, give me some fucking room".  Yeah, it was starting to get a bit tetchy out there.  The woman in front of me didn't seem to be able to believe it and kept treading water, looking around to seek assurance from everyone else that this really was happening, we really were doing this right?  I know how she felt.  I started to wonder if they'd cancel the rest of the races.

Breast stroke it is then.  Possibly my best decision.  I decided a qualifying time was out of the window so I started to relax and just enjoy my day.  Once I'd calmed down I started to swim competitive breast stroke, breathing under the water and properly skimming.  I caught a few people up - still struggling from earlier waves.

I knew I wasn't going to turn around at the first buoy because that had been from the sprint race so looked towards the second buoy.... but then another one appeared!  SHeesh.

I kept going with breast stroke.  Having tried a sneaky crawl and been nearly drowned again I decided it wasn't a good idea and got back to the breast stroke.  At least the return to base was downhill (with a tail wind).  Around the buoy it was hard to see where to go.  A lot of people were cutting a straight line for transition which seemed like a massive short cut to me and I'm still not happy with some of the record-breaking swim times on the results sheet.  I stuck out towards the line of buoys so I wouldn't get dq'd or washed to shore forcing me to swim back out to finish.  At times I had people coming the other way swimming within 2 feet of me as they were being washed inshore.

Finally, I cut the corner when it felt reasonable to do so and clambered out feeling deidedly battered.  A painful run up a rocky beach followed by a gravelly carpark and I could get my cycling kit on.

I decided for a fleece jersey to cover the impending cloud-doom and gusty conditions and don't regret it.  I only felt hot once or twice and the heavens opened briefly on the course.

The ride out of town passed without fail.  Impressive given the potholes and speed bumps.

Out of town the ride was pleasant - undulating and the climbs suited me down to the ground.  Although not steep, I had to put some effort in to the long climbs.  I got passed by a guy on the ups and caught him back up on the flats and downhills.

Looking at my watch and doing a bit of maths I realised that my swim couldn't have actually been that bad.  I must've still managed to pull a 32 minutes swim out of the bag.  I mean it's not great but I've qualified with less.  I was still competitive.  I put a bit of effort in after that.

I got a brief draft of a tesco lorry passing on the best part of the course.  Obviously I immediately backed off to the recommended distance but Tesco lorries don't half pull!

I ground out the bike ride in 1hr 22min.  Pretty pleased.  Not as good as Bala but still competitive.

Coming back into base I knew I could look forwards to seeing Lucy on the run and of course, TSK, who was out with his mountain bike.

I had a good run transition but didn't pick up any gels.  Oh well, I'd have to manage.  What I did know was it was going to be windy - well, half windy!  Tail wind out, head wind in.  With two laps to do, it was on-load, off-load.  I was running well.  A little wobbly but that would go away.  I hammered it down the straight.  I was getting passed by a lot of people but I mostly put this down to much faster runners on their second lap getting ready to finish.  I waved to some of the other 40s girls, well ahead of me going the other way.

Lucy was at the turnaround point offering cheers and shouted, "find someone to run behind" as I turned into the headwind.

A man came past me and I got in behind him and stuck with him as long as I could but the pace was not sustainable and I didn't just want to blow up so I dropped back to my own pace at the pain of running into the headwind.  Then the engineer in me realised that if I couldn't run behind a person I could at least run behind the beach huts.  Genius. That saved me some effort.

Onto lap two and Lucy had headed home to race Steve back to the house from Worthing.  I still thought I was going to see her though which made me keep going - at least keep looking like I knew what I was doing.  Back at the final turnaround point and I caught up a lady with red hair.  I drafted her for a while but she just wasn't going fast enough anymore.  I didn't want to pass her and then die in the wind but I really thought I could do better so I came past and encouraged her to sit behind me for a bit so we could work together to the finish line.

Unfortunately she couldn't keep up with me and I left her behind.  A blonde lady came past me and I sat behind her up to the lap 2 turnaround where she picked up a band and headed out on her second lap leaving me to run into the headwind on my own until the finish.  I was back to drafting beach huts.

Finally the line came into view.  A drop down from the beach promenade into the finishing field and a push for the extra few seconds to finish.  No gels - so a perfectly balanced lead up to the race.  I knew I'd done everything right this time except for a few seconds wasted in transition.  A race I could truly be proud of and one I found incredibly enjoyable with a side order of spending time with great friends over the weekend.

Only one thing remained, did I get a qualifying time for Kitzbuhel or not?  Well, upon initial inspection it appeared that I had, with the winner of my AG finishing in 2:24 and me in 2:50, giving me 118% of the winner's time.  However, a lady moving up into 40-44 AG next year did finish faster in 2:21:38 (20:54, 1:16, 42:14), putting me 0.17% outside a qualifying time.

Am I disappointed?  No, not really.  Unlike last year, I didn't invest this whole year in AG qualifying, it would have been the cherry on a rather tasty cake - a cake largely made from Iron distance, with a thick layer of Half Ironman cream in the middle and a surprising quantity of enjoyable jam underneath.  The icing is having made enough time to prepare for a very enjoyable summer holiday experience on the mountain bike (more to follow) and the coffee that goes with the cake is figuring out just where I feel I might like to otherwise direct my efforts for next year and I'm quite excited about that.

Stats:
Number of entrants: 522
Number of brave starters: 411
Number of people still competing after the swim: 367
Swim: 32:28 306th, 100/110 19/20
T1: 3:07 352! 345/361 105/110 19/20
Bike: 1:22:24 277th (normality restored) 59/110 10/20
T2: 1:16 298th 81/110 17/20
Run: 50:57 (nowt special but enough) 288th 67/110 10/20

So... swim training it is then!

Lisbon Standard Distance European Triathlon Championships. May 2016 - the extended version

When they say it's bigger and better they mean it, but this was my first ever race abroad too.  The importance of remembering a race belt pales into insignificance compared to remembering one's passport.  Remarkably, a race belt and lock laces (elastic laces which make changing shoes easier) were the only items I forgot.

The yoga mat was left behind due to lack of space though I regretted its absence as I would have used it. Both as a yoga mat and rolled up as a foam roller to massage my muscles.  The most unnecessary items packed - my down coat, in case it was cold post-race; and a few million cold virus bugs that I really didn't want.

The plane journey was the first opportunity I took to plan my race targets and I did all my calculations manually to pass the time. As the flight dragged on my brain faltered at long division and the cold really took hold. We had rented a car to get us to a hotel across town.  1/4 the price of the team hotel which more than covered the cost of the hire car and fuel. It was a good move,  not least because I didn't infect the rest of the team.

After a nervous drive through a foreign city with excellent navigation by Mr Rodgers we checked in to the hotel and went to sleep for a bit then went for a walk before testing out the hotel restaurant.  Budget as it was, the restaurant was more of a bar with small ovens but we got enough stodgy pizza to see us through and ate the fruit of the trip, purchased from our local recce.

On Friday it was time for registration for me and I managed to time it perfectly with catching up with Fiona and Caz before their race. They gave me virtual hugs from a distance to avoid getting the cold, then set off for their start.

I registered,  watched them set off on the bike then fed a few more euros into the parking meter before going to collect Rosie Red.

Thankfully she had arrived in one piece,  ready to go. Thanks Nirvana Europe (although I later revise this sentiment when my bike was returned to Sheffield in a heap with four others, rolling around the back of a transit van).  (Still, at the time, ) A massive stress was lifted. I wasn't in the frame of mind for any last minute panic.

We watched a bit more racing before heading back to the hotel for sleeping then bike fettling. With new shoes I had not yet worn on the bike and a decision to change the position of the tri bars back to their old location, a certain amount of trial was required and I spent a good 45 minutes outside the hotel car park doing transition practice riding around the parking lot that serves some of the less exclusive high rise tower blocks in Lisbon's business district. I got some funny looks from the street yoof and city's cleaning staff returning from a hard day at work.   Then there was sleeping to recover from (the not-so-great exertion) and a longish walk to find dinner - the perfect traditional Portuguese restaurant serving delicious steak and sea food.

On Saturday it was back to town for the pre race briefing with team coach Nick. I had to be there at 10am and there was some concern that I might not make it as we had to stop at the scene of an accident as a scooter rider skidded on diesel right in front of us en-route to the venue.

Once we convinced the rider no one had hit her,  we left our scant details and headed off. Thankfully arriving with time to spare.

It was an amazing race briefing. Nonsense dispensed with.  We had all done plenty of triathlons. The brief focused on the process of registration, everything to get us to the line and employed humour and audience participation.  The only downside is that it made most of us more nervous about different and new rules and counting the run laps which were no longer 2 but 4.

I had 5 hours to kill before I could put my bike in transition so I set off to watch the mens elite racing - first from the road and then from the stadium. I was trying to minimise screaming but it was difficult.  Javier Gomez was impressive and team GB athletes did brilliantly.  The juniors were a pleasure to watch but mostly we ate our lunch - more salad - and slept on a wall then the women were off at 4. I watched the swim which gave me some great tips on things to work on with my own swimming. Then we headed out by the stadium to watch the women cycle and caught up with my friend Al from Sheffield who took Silver in his age group.

Then it was time for the final pre race hurdle - bike racking. It went surprisingly quickly. RosieRedWanderingDragon and I had our private moment before race day. I don't think anyone really wanted to leave transition.  Back at our hotels was the hubbub of pre race faffing and poor nights sleeping to be done.

Swim cap, race number, gloves, timing chip, tool bag, tiger.

If nothing else,  I had at least passed all the pre race checks and was given a timing chip.  I got all remaining kit locked in the car,  having decided that the risk of the car being broken into was outweighed by the risk of me leaving something in the room at 4:30am the next day.

We ate in the classy and over-priced hotel buffet next door although as I carefully chose my food options from the wide and glorious display, I realised that was exactly what I needed. There's a certain satisfaction to knowing exactly what your food looks like before you order it and pasta with salmon was perfect... so was the cheesecake.

I slept remarkably well. The cold was starting to ease and had not yet fully developed the catarrhy hacking cough that TSK had last week. Yoga helped. Every time I noticed my brain going into pre race scenario panic,  I brought it back to the breathing.  Of course I was often half asleep when my mind wandered and true to foreign driver paranoia, my brain developed several multi-lane roundabouts on the swim course where I naturally took the wrong exit.  There is quite a thick line between visualisation and paranoia.

Race day. Ibis, forewarned, were ready with an early breakfast for us and we coasted back to our same venue parking spot. A short walk from the start and free on weekends. The real quiet time started. Everything set up. Ins and outs of transition visualised over and over... again.  The scenery helped...

Sunrise by the Meo Arena Lisboa

Contrary to my plan I left my socks with my bike shoes, knowing I had not yet tried the shoes out for more than 20 minutes and never without socks.  Everything else was as normal with a new white cap (thinner than my cycling cap) to keep the sun off my fair hair head.

I had the perfect start to the warm up. I found a corner of the park overlooking the ocean where a German lady was doing some sun salutations. I joined her then was joined by an Irish lady who just wanted somewhere quiet to get ready - though in the end there was quite a lot of chatter.

Yoga spot by the Targus river with the sun and a heron.

 I got my wetsuit on my legs and met TSK for a zip up before the saunter into transition and another great,  enthusiastic humorous swimming brief by the ITU official.

That's me waving my arms in the air

We were quickly into the water and away on the buzzer. No messing. I was just as quickly spat out the group but my swim was going to be the only un-monitored section of my race. My target was 33 minutes which I knew I could do at a relaxed pace. It was all about nursing the cold through the water. Fortunately the temperature was a barmy 18.8 degrees. I looked left and saw a group so I merged over to them and found some feet to sit on.

They were a bit fast and kicky but I managed to hold on to them to the second turnaround with a lot of sighting to make sure I was still on it.

They caught a lone swimmer and in the pass, someone dropped off the back behind me.  She sat on my feet for a while but my fingers started to splay so I did some breast stroke to get the blood flowing. I might have kicked her once or twice.  It was purely accidental.

The switch worked and when I went back to crawl I sped right up,  dropping my tail but not quite making it up to the two ahead of me. I had one turn to go. Another burst of breast stroke to warm up and this time I made contact with the leader of the next wave coming through -the over 40s men. My kick won me a dunking which was completely uncalled for. Still, I had one job to do - get out and up the ramp, hopefully without getting in anyone's way.

Some blocks of granite had fallen out of the harbour walls and I nearly kicked one which led me to put my foot down as soon as I touched the ramp with my hand. It was a bit slippery but I could see the exit carpet ahead. As soon as I hit it I was reaching for my wetsuit zip and to my surprise I had my arms out by the top of the ramp where the timing mat prompted me to check my watch. Sub 32 minutes. Yes!

My favourite picture from the weekend as I still look strong and my hair is flat.

Hat and goggles off into my basket with the wetsuit. One look at my socks and I thought,  "I'll never get them on" and proceeded to bare foot bike shoes for the first time ever.  Sometimes a gamble pays off and they gave me no bother and a 2 minute transition, though looking back, this was shit compared to everyone else.

My usual flying mount onto the bike where the only bugbear was getting my cleats into the pedals as I bounced over cobbled speed bumps. All the bolts were tight except of course the elbow pads that I played with on Friday and I forgot to tighten. Oh well,  they only had to last 1hr and a bit.

Flying, none of this getting your feet in nonsense.

It took me a wee while to get into the swing of things but mostly the route and road surface were predictable. What I hadn't seen I had been warned about though some of those roundabouts were weird. Because it was a closed road race we were turning left onto them but from the right hand side of the road. Of course when we took the slip road onto the closed motorway,  I couldn't help doing a shoulder check either.

The most dreaded part of the course I had checked on Google earth had shipping containers for miles and was not particularly pleasant. As it was, the view on the other side of the motorway was sunshine,  ocean and the occasional silhouette of a fisherman. Not at all bad.

I am used to a constant stream of asses to chase on the bike due to my competence with pedals and incompetence in the water. But this was the European champs and most were pretty damn good at everything.  I busied myself with the occasional cheer for an older age grouper I passed - mainly British - or Portuguese - because I was so pleased to be there. Also responding to the many encouraging words from the whippet boys passing me on their second laps. Thanks lads.

Then we hit the hill climb. I had tried to plot this route on-line before to figure out the hill-climb and concluded it was nothing to worry about.  Fortunately I didn't change my gear for it because it was more than the off ramp of a motorway,  climbing 120m in 1.5km.  I passed my first Portuguese competition

Everyone bunched up as we tackled it in different ways. There was enough headwind to justify staying on the tri bars but enough steep to justify a leg-saving 26 gear (well for me anyway).

Another story on the way down. A tail wind, sweeping bend and mostly pristine motorway surface. Into tuck position and dropping the men! I had to tell a Swiss man to get going because he couldn't decide if he was making a legal pass or having a rest.

I forgot to check out the turnaround point on the way in to lap 2. Lessons learned point. Some swift cone manoeuvres got me back on course then I remembered to start paying attention to my speeds. First lap I averaged 18.9 mph.  Could I make it stick at over 19?

Hunting Portuguese

Another 2 Portuguese ladies for me to pick off before the climb. Then a Brit as I whooshed past on the descent back onto the flat motorway and then into town.  I was 1 minute behind the next placed rider, an Austrian and lost 20 seconds to her in transition (that'll be the socks then).

I shot off on the run, not knowing what I would do but trying to make a magic 7mph target - higher than the one I set for Stockton.  I ran a whole lap at a blistering pace and reached the first exit ramp from the stadium full of beans.  I went for a fell-runners exit on the slope and powered my way out of the stadium.  At the next corner I clocked 10 mph on my watch but then my cockiness kicked me in the stomach with a massive cramp which I pretty much nursed the rest of the way around the lap.

The only thing that took my mind off the pain was shouting for other runners as and when I passed.  Until finally, that didn't work any more and I stopped for a little walk at one of the water stations.  Williams, who I had just passed and shouted to, was kind enough to pat me on the shoulder as he went by and told me to get a move on.  THANK YOU!

I started running again and although I nursed the stitch for another half a lap, I finally decided to stop drinking and dousing in cold water and just run, like I usually do.  It worked and as the results showed below, I gradually started to pick up my pace again.  I stopped looking at the watch and ran by feel instead.  I waved goodbye to pushing myself against the clock and instead, just focused on going as fast as I bloody felt like.

Feeling better then.

Because we disappeared into the stadium every lap, the Garmin wasn't quite picking up the length of the route so as I came around the fourth time, ready to finish, with TSK already indoors ready to finish, I really wasn't convinced it was my time.  Still, I decided the elastic bands don't lie (I'd been transferring one from my right wrist to my left every lap) and threaded my way into the finishing chute, convinced by following a familiar runner down there.

I picked up a flag from small children offering them and then sprinted for the line to beat a Norwegian bloke, just for kicks (poor fella wasn't even in my race).

I could argue that the sprint finish belies the fact that I wasn't going flat out but then that's not what I am designed for anyway - not at the moment.

The completion was elation itself.  I'd not been convinced I was going to get out of the water alive with the cold drowning me and when I set off on the run, I hadn't been convinced I was going to last the full hour of that.  But I did.  People gave me water and a beautiful young Portuguese man hung a medal around my neck.

I'd like to say I lounged around in the athlete's area but I headed straight for the bathroom to empty my bladder and coughed until a fellow athlete came to ask if I was OK.

After a bottle of water and some recovery drink, I changed into dry clothes then headed outside to find TSK.

Swim - 28/29 - 31:54
T1 - 28th - 2:13
Bike Splits 1, 2, etc - 13th, 24th, 23rd, 21st, 20th - 1:53(0.5km), 20:47 (12.75km), 18:50 (7.25km), 21:04 (12.75km), 19:52 (7.25km)
T2 - 29th - 1:34 (I need a butler!)
Run Splits 1, 2, etc. - 17th, 15th, 15th, 21st (stitch), 20th, 19th, 18th, 22nd - 4:36 (1km), 3:50 (0.95km), 6:32 (1.45km), 3:45 (0.85km), 6:54 (1.45km), 4:00 (0.85km), 6:53 (1.45km), 3:59 (0.85km), 5:24 (1.15km)

Overall time 2:44:02

The end of the day was long - finding my bike again, eating, dropping my bike off with the shipping company, walking back, sleeping in the street waiting for TSK to find me because I got separated from him like a lost child.  We missed out on most of the fanfare of the day and headed back to the hotel so that I could sleep through the snot.  We went for a walk and ended up eating in Pizza Hut because it was the only place serving food at 5:45pm and we could get some vitamins in the form of an over-dressed salad.

Still, I finished, I survived.  I never thought a standard distance race could be so hard.

If you're wondering, yes, I've already signed up for the only qualifying race that I can make this year.  There's more to come.