Holkam Hall Half Iron, Outlaw Triathlon.

This event first reared its head last winter, a new addition to the OSB Events calendar, and their 2^nd offering of a 70.3 distance, this time out of the Holkham Hall Estate off the North Norfolk Coast.

 

It’s worth telling you a bit of background to North Norfolk from my perspective. Since childhood I have holidayed with family in a small village called Mundesley along the coast from Holkham in a family members chalet that was eventually inherited. The beach is beautiful, the weather is (mostly) fine, and it has always been home from home for me. Somewhere I love being.

 

When I met Sarah one of the first things she told me about was her regular holidays to the same small village of Mundesley as a child, her parents owning chalets in the chalet park next to ours. We never met as children, but still a completely unlikely random coincidence, and something that has always been a cracking thing to share………15 years of marriage later, having now spent countless year round long weekends and holidays with our own family there, often with other extended family there at the same time, all adding up to hours and hours on my favourite beach, sea swimming, relaxing, enjoying good food and making fond memories, this event held something of a personal appeal. I certainly stood to know the course, where ever it might be.

 

About a 600m walk from the chalet, a pre-requisite of every visit
 is a photo of the Girls on the bench down the cliff.

Everyone loves a BBQ on the beach. Mmmmm.

This photo pretty much sums up the family relationship with Mundesley beach.
Mock disgruntlement on Molly's face, anticipation on Ella's,
Resignation on Sarah's........and me in the sea. 

 

There's even a chest in the hallway at home
that is adorned in the North Norfolk Coastline.

With that thought in mind I left it, not wanting to throw money down the drain if fitness didn’t come good, but after The Grafman in April, and then another month of some assessment training, the promise of improving performance held fast, and so I took the chance and entered at the 11^th hour. I had also been pondering the potential popularity of the event. The majority of serious athletes would have already entered their A races, and squeezing in the small matter of a Half Iron for fun is no small undertaking. The venue and popularity of the organisers delivered though, and while it took a while to fill it, it did, and it filled with a decent national standard. I even persuaded my sister in law Katie to have a crack with only 3 weeks to the race date. 

 

Back in October I had been toying with doing ‘The Anglian’, a full 140.6 distance off the North Norfolk Coast complete with sea swim, mostly for the same reasons as I had now entered this – I knew the area, and that thought made it fun. Unfortunately The Anglian was cancelled due to lack of interest, and the Holkham has possibly missed a trick in not holding the swim in the sea when it is on its doorstep, but the lake and the backdrop of the Hall were there for the taking. It’s funny how 2 events so close to one another can have such contrasting fortunes.

 

It being a last minute entry, things clashed on the calendar, and this meant that I would be going alone, as Sarah and the Girls had other commitments that weekend. It was strange loading up the car to ‘go to the chalet’ alone, but I can now categorically state that regardless of what they say when I am packing to race, it is far less than the copious amounts of ‘essential’ items that I seem to struggle to stuff in the car and roof box when we travel down as a family!

 

A beautifully fitting bike frame in the car. Made to measure.

I’m not a football fan at all, and I couldn’t name 4 of the England team even after these recent Euros, but I have to confess to having a good ride down tuning into some old school crackly medium wave radio and listening to the Wales v Belgium match, getting into the excitement as the home nation prevailed. I had no idea Belgium were apparently so good. Turns out they weren’t.

 

On arriving I got unpacked, set up and sorted, went through some race data that had been playing on my mind for a while and then set the alarm, hoping it would be a nice morning, for an early morning sea swim with the North Norfolk Crawlers.

Set up inside 15 min of arriving. Home from home.
2 big chicken buttys, tea and telly before bed.

Waking up early I had a big mug of tea and took a stroll the 0.5miles down to the sea, sitting on the cliff top bench waiting for other swimmers to arrive, enjoying the morning sun. As soon as everyone arrived it was apparent I was the only wetsuit swimmer that morning, but hid behind the need to take it easy for the race the next day! Around 45minutes of even paced effort later I had ticked off just shy of 2 miles, got out, enjoyed a mug of chocolate and a catch up, before heading back for a quick breakfast and drive over to the venue. It dawned on me I was fired up for the race and excited in a way I haven’t been all season. At times I was beginning to think I had lost some Mojo for it, and this familiar, if absent of late feeling was like the return of a welcome old friend. It was Race time!!!

Post swim photo.

The coast road is the quickest route, only about 19 miles from the chalet, but it took about an hour with the traffic, and I revised my set off time for the morning.

 

Pulling into the grounds it was as beautiful as expected, and quite a dramatic day, rolling clouds, sunshine, and more than a bit of wind whipping up the underside of the leaves on the old and majestic tree lined paths. I registered, soaking up the atmosphere,  chatted to plenty more people that I know, and made my way back to the car, where I took my time re assembling my bike, getting everything how I wanted it before finally pushing it down to transition and racking it ready for the morning. It is always weird leaving your ride on site.

Taking my time, setting myself up in the sun.

Lovely tree lined walk to Registration

And a herd of deer roaming around behind the event village

I then had a wander round the lake to check out the swim, and took in the race briefing, before overhearing the finishers of the 10k race being run on the same track as I would race the next day coming over the line. The winning time was just shy of 40 minutes. That is slow by any half decent runners standard for a 10k, honestly, really quite slow, and I was sure that some decent runners would be out there, which indicated either the condition of, or the difficulty of the course, as I had heard a few times on the grape vine that it was particularly hard. I would find out soon enough…

Leaving the Felt. Our first night apart in nearly a year.

Walking down to the swim

Looking back on the big house & transition from the swim start. That was
the 2nd island you swam round before exiting.

 

The drag strip style swim - out on the near side, round an island out of sight
in the distance, then back on the far side and out.

The drive back was thundery with plenty of lightening overhead and out to sea, adding excitement, and hoping it would blow itself out before the morning. Arriving back I packed up the car, cleaned up,  I prepped a hearty tea before getting to bed early with an alarm set for 03:50hrs.

Pre Race tea.

Then a tiger powered sleep.

Up with the dawn and out the door to a bowl of porridge, a homemade Juice and a coffee in a mug to fire the engine on route.

 

I got there about 05:15hrs giving plenty of time to inflate the tyres, prep the shoes, pace out the position in transition, find markers, write splits on my hand, talk to every other competitor, then rubber up and head down to the swim for wave 1.

 

The long shadows of an early summer morning transition. A nice touch at this
race was the bank of portaloos at both ends just for the athletes use.

The water was warm and clear as we all headed in, but very shallow. The briefing had warned of this, not really a bother for wave 1, but I could see very quickly how it was going to get churned up and silty as hell for the subsequent waves.

There's always time for a smile before the start.
I'm starting to see my trade mark ripped off now......

The floating start was good and wide, meaning there was no bunching. As the crowd gave the count down from the bank and the horn sounded I had plenty of room to get going without any of the usual kerfuffle. That made a pleasant change. The sun was low and blinding to the right, having started centrally I was mid-way between to arrow heads forming to either side. I headed right to get closer to the bank and increase the angle of the bank above my head, hopefully giving more shade from the sun. I slotted in behind the feet of the draft and we swam straight.

 

The lake was very long and thin, essentially an out, round an island then back the other way. During this time I picked up a few feet, felt like I was working hard and consistently, on the edge of being able to sustain my bi lateral breathing. That’s normally a consistent way of measuring effort. Using breath as a HR equivalent. On that basis I was happy during the swim. The island was larger than it had looked from the bank, and had been taped off in places to avoid submerged branches and debris.

 

Squaring up for the return leg the sun made it tricky to sight, but again it was pretty much straight which helped. About half way back the 2^nd wave went past in the other direction.

 

For the back 800m to the pontoon I was holding fast with 2 other swimmers, with us sitting a good way off the lead pack that looked to have stayed tight through-out the 1900m and then the main bulk of the swimmers around 300m behind us. A small pod between the masses.

 

Exiting the run was along a jetty, round a grass corner and into T1. A pretty standard distance and set up. I glanced at my watch and it read 32min. That was an appalling time. 

I still cannot work out what happened in the swim. My last competitive swim at Dambuster was 23min to the timing mat at T1 and that is a long run. That swim was 1500m. My usual 400m time is around 5:50, and allowing for the extra the wetsuit will give me balancing out the fatigue of the extra distance swam I'd still not expect the swim to be over 29 minutes to the line. That means I lost 3 minutes at least somehow. I still don’t know how, but looking after there were a lot of slower than usual swim times, including an extra 1.5minutes over standard for the 3^rd placed man overall, but still the swim went wrong somewhere. An embarrassing time. Did the sea swim the day before tire me out that much? Over 3 minutes down on the last 70.3 swim at The Grafman in May too.

A smooth and easy swim out.

T1 one bashed. Found the bike no bother, suit off and out the other side in a minute.

 

Onto the bike I had nutrition fully sorted, and settled pretty quick into a decent rhythm, passing a few early on as we headed out the estate and north to the coast road. 15 miles in and the first drink station was perched at the top of a stiff climb, seeing them at the top ensured a best effort including standing for the last 50m, levelling off I got cheers from friends and grabbed a drink from another friend manning the station.

 

The first 25 miles were all into the wind and a variety of rolling hills, with a lot of fine stones and flints on the road dumped there by wash from the rain, but the junctions were well marshalled and without incident.  This half of the ride was pretty lonely, I wasn’t passed, and I never really got sight of anyone in front.  Heading south off the coast road it turned into an 8 mile climb, gradual, steep, gradual, steep, a slight dip, but a drag and a half…

 

Once at the top it was down past the Sandringham estate and onto the main road as I triggered the half way timing mat. The splits were down a bit against my targets, but I knew that was the tough end of the course, and the wind had contributed. I had stuck to the plan and held HR on target throughout. The times were more than recoverable, and with that to aim for it pumped me up and I got my head down and gave the decent road surface of the long main A149 some welly. 

This had a number of long gradual climbs too, but without the wind in my face it felt easier and enjoyable. Chewing stats after the first 28miles were a 19.6mph average, but the last 28 I drove up to a 23.3mph. Pleased with that recovery.

 

A few of the quicker cyclists came past around 45 miles in, and I kept expecting the flood gates to open, and stronger cyclists to begin to pour past. It didn’t happen. Grabbing a bottle at the last station with 10 miles to go I was back on track and still felt strong. There was one final big climb towards the estate before entering the south gates, and heading down the long straight path past a monolith and down into dismount.

Unclipped, coming in off the bike.

Heading down the crowds had gathered, and the clapping and cheering began. The sun was out and the masses were making the most of it.

 

I unclipped for the line, and hopped off without issue. As I did I heard cheers from the side, glancing across I could see my parents and 2 youngest nieces shouting away enthusiastically. Jelly legs and a loss of focus and before I knew it I had tripped over the front wheel and fallen over my bike. Shoving my finger into the spokes I felt it bend back, waiting for the snap, it didn’t come, and I quickly squared myself up with nothing but embarrassment to show for the slip up, lifted the bike high in case it was damaged (to not make anything worse) and ran into T2. Just under 2hrs 40 min and a smidge over 21mph average around the course. Happy with that given how fresh I felt into the run.

 

Again no issues, and a feeling of satisfaction entering a 98% empty pit devoid of people or bikes. The run to my spot was a long one, but a simple bike down, helmet off, trainers on and I was out the other side and determined to try and make the run count, hitting the ground hard from the off. The timing mat bleeper recording 54 seconds. Considering the awkward prang and need to carry the bike aloft I was really chuffed with that after.

 

The crowds were cheering and it helped work though that first 400m as I gurned and groaned while the legs settled into their new role. 

Onto the  course and the first drink station soon appeared. I didn’t bother first time round. Down into a quick dip and then up a disgusting dirty climb that drained the legs before we even began. It didn’t look that bad from the road, but running up it, it certainly smarted. The event photographers had sadistically parked at the top of it to get the best action shots of people struggling along.

Hitting the run, feeling the burn

A slight down, and then another longer gradual climb. Awful. I was passing a few people though, and the bikes were streaming past, coming into T2 on the other side of the road. Thinking of the hill they had to climb made me smile.

 

Turning off the road and onto a stony track, again it was a decent climb, but now surrounded by fields it didn’t seem as bad. I regretted my trainer choice slightly, feeling a lot of the stones and uneven ground underfoot. A bit of a thicker sole would have made it more comfortable, but comfort and speed aren’t often merry bed fellows so that was never going to be the deciding factor in trainer selection.  

This path levelled off after another climb, round a bend and into a dip and the next feed station between some barns. I slowed, took on some fluids and then got the pace back up. The path headed out towards the trees, and I was aware of a big swarm of horse flies above my head. The sun was hot now, and the sweat flowed freely.

 

This road ran into the cool of the woods, and the drop in temperature was a relief, but the track was rough, and it was hard work to get an even footing to maintain a decent form and pace. The options were 2 deep off road tyre gouged tracks with patches of thick near black mud, or a thin, knobbly strip of patchy grass in the centre of the tracks to balance your way over. I tried all, and settled on the dirtier, but less perilous main track.

 

This turned down hill and through a final field before passing the camping area, high fiving the children playing on the grass and stood by their tents, and we entered the throngs of people once more, down the main road into the estate for about 400m. The crowd picked me up, and I could see my brother in the distance firing off a few sneaky shots with his grubby zoom lens. 

Better to grimace than get passed and look depressed.

 

Past the finishing chute, and the commentator was out on the course in full flow. That commentator being the same Kyle Campbell of my previous Red Bull Neptune Steps blog post.

 

I tried to hide from line of sight as I approached, using an athlete further ahead to block his view of me, but he sniffed me out instantly and the outpouring of ‘man child’ ‘junior category’ and all the usual smart alec comments ensued, so I embraced them (and loved them really), hammed it up with him, and leapt with all my might to reach his outstretched hand and slap him as I passed.

 

Back down the small dip to the first water station, I clocked the splits and had run the first of the 3 loops (4.4 miles) on a 6:30 min average. Given the course conditions I was really pleased with that, and still on target.

 

Back up the hill. Now there were a lot of runners on the course, and without the bands it would be impossible to tell at which loop people were on. The run was slower this time round, and I stalled at the 2^nd water stop on this loop to take the fluid on fully. At the end of the loop I was aware I still hadn’t been passed, but my time was dropping off now. I was holding heart rate, but the speed had faded. The hills were sapping it and I was feeling the terrain underfoot.

 

On the positive side I was getting on a lot better than I did at The Grafman, holding greater endurance for longer. The times were down to an average of just over 7 min miles as I passed the chute for the final loop.

By the third loop I was aware of stomach cramps, but pushed on up the hill and then the next. A small amount of time spent running next to other athletes I know. As I turned the corner off the main road onto the track and the 3rd climb for the final time, I was passed by another athlete with 2 bands. The first time I had been passed on the run. I tried to wick it up and hold on to their shoulder, and succeeded for a while. 

Looking at the HR it spiked for a bit, but then died off, I was working harder than ever, but as I approached the last water station it began to drop regardless of the effort I put in and as I eased back to grab a drink the guy dropped me.

 

After that I couldn’t get going in the same vein again, and quickly followed that through with an involuntary wee that ran straight down my right leg and into my trainer. The rest of the run was a grim one footed squelch. Not only that, but while this is a common placed happening, the otherwise comfortable Huub suit seems to absorb the urine and rub it into the skin causing painful blisters, where other suits have never done this. Agony for a week after. Very strange.

 

Sarah dealing with the aftermath!

Anyway, that aside, I pressed as hard as a I could past the camping field, family and friends cheered, my Mum encouraging my nieces to clap,  more high 5’s to the children on the sides as I passed, and down the red carpet to finish in 4hrs 50min, 26^th/1200 overall, and 6^th/210 in my age group. If that guy hadn't passed me in the last 3 miles it would have been 5th. If I hadn't had the worst swim of my life it would have been 4th.... could of, would of, should of. That's racing, and I'm content with the result.

 

The overall time was slow, but that was reflected in everyone’s times given the physically tough nature of the course, and the results are a great improvement on where I have been. The running fading much later than previously, and giving me a good indication that the training is delivering in the needed areas.

Finding the line.

 I took advantage of the free massage after, headed to the food tent and chewed over the course with other finishers while eating a really decent post race spread. A couple of cups of tea later and I was ready to collect kit and pack the car. We enjoyed a picnic and cheered in Katie who completed it in a very respectable 6hrs 15min, then headed for home.

 

I haven’t fully decided yet if it was the rarity of a nice warm day this summer, the atmosphere, venue, or a mix of all of the above, but I haven’t enjoyed a race so much for a long time, feeling mentally strong through out - this might just be my new favourite course.

 

 

Dambuster Olympic

Dambuster. Maybe it's just because I'm a Woodhall lad, and that's also  the home of the infamous 617 Dambuster Squadron, but this is a race I have come to love, and regardless of the overall years plan it's still a must on the race calendar.

This time last year I had just finished the Dambuster Olympic and walked away with a great time, a top Age Group Position, a top 30 finish overall and an offer of a place at the ITU World Championships in Chicago. A real high point of 2015.

Until last weekend that was the last Olympic Distance I had competed in, having totally pursued long course since. So here I was rocking back up at a great national event, with a full year between the 2 and nothing to measure myself against in-between. To be fair, I had geared my year around that race a fair bit in 2015, but this year was meant to be for fun, a good performance required, but essentially for the sheer love of the sport.

Also for the first time in 3 years I didn’t book a hotel. We decided to camp, and Sarah, having been completely devoured by gnats and midges on a few separate occasions last year veto’d attending, so Ella & myself packed up the car and headed over Friday night to pitch up on the side of Rutland water alongside other enthusiast racers who had travelled down the night before. We picked up a fellow Louth Tri Member who was competing in as relay team, and looking for a PB on the 10k run, the journey down whipped past nattering about everything tri.

 

Ella, set up and on the all important tea duty.

 

Pitching up next to family, Miriam found her team and disappeared off with a tent under her arm, while we brewed up and listened to the nervous ramblings of my almost Sister in Law who was here to race her first standard distance, and in true Ball (to be in October) style put her neck on the block and registered her attempt to Q for Mexico. Why not!

Camping is always a risk, but with a 7am start with a near 2hr drive meaning leaving at 4am to get there in time to register and rack I decided to chance. It’s the trade off between a potentially worse night’s sleep, or a comfy bed, but getting up ridiculously early. Camping was only for athletes, and I was surprised as we settled down how many seemed to linger outside, talking, playing ridiculous music and drinking into the night when they clearly had to be up so early and performing at their best. We were glad around midnight when it rained and drove them to their beds.

 I don’t give out negative reviews or critism easily, but I feel compelled to say that the campsite was a big disappointment. The toilets were a long way off, basically the event portaloos. To boot, the majority were locked, only a few available for use, and then the cold outside tap to get some water was in another random unmarked location. And that was it, for £17.50. That coupled with the discovery that although I had been told while booking over the phone that parking was included in that price (usually £5) only to be informed on arrival it was not, so actually costing £22.50 left a very bitter taste.  A persistant stance at the camp sign in / watersports centre desk  meant I got the parking validated for free, and some small recompense, but Anglian Water showed themselves up to be greedy and lazy. PaceSetter, the event organisers can’t help this set up, but if you are thinking of camping there, I would say spend an extra few quid and get a B&B nearby. They will at least look after you.

 So onto the important stuff. The race.

 

5am, some last minute adjustments and setting up.

 

 Awake early, time spent going through the kit, readying the bike, and playing through times and stats, writing key data on the back of the hand.

 Bike racked, I ran into an old school friend that has got into the sport over the last few years, and it was good to see him set up and ready to give his best. Race briefing, and count downs, before I knew it we were all rubbered up and down by the shore.

 

Bumping into an old school mate using this as a warm up for his
Sundowner 70.3 in September. Good Luck Reece.

 

We got to watch the first wave start, and the adrenalin began to flow in anticipation of the next 2hrs. It was time to focus and get a handle on that, save it burning me out too early.

 Once wave 1 had gone the area filled up with a multitude of familiar faces. For what is becoming such a popular sport it amazes me how small the regular crowd of competitive athletes are. Everyone mumbling hellos, understated nods and side glaces, trying to measure the form of those around them, and recall their form based on the doubtless hours of online stalking, rummaging through race stats/results and social media info to get an insight into everyone elses  current strengths, weakness and goals. Sarah is adamanat we are all crazed stalkers, and this is a pre-requisite for serious competition, in that it should almost be a part of the entry process. I can see it on the BTF ITU Registration form now :

• Q6 : Joe Bloggs has moved to the region, he is a known capable Regional Class Cyclist, and has registered for all the major events in the region, but little else is known about his tri’athletic prowess. Explain in no more than 600 words how you would go about assessing his form, and what you would do with that information?”. 

I bet most people reading this would think, well that’s an easy question…. Well that’s the point, it is…. but it shouldn’t be, and it isn’t to most of the normal functioning population – so congratulations, if you just answered that, you are clearly a dedicated racer…..

Anyway, back to the race. All this serious last minute prep and assessment always brings out the child in me. The stern faces, the posturing and macho crap that abound make me go the other way, and I start prattling about, smiling, waving, pointing, chatting and generally annoying those around me.

 

Messing about seconds from the off.....

 

“30 Seconds, the next sound you hear will be the starting horn” comes the tanoy announcement. Everything goes quiet and tense. I start my watch 10 seconds out and begin the count down in my mind.

Claxon sounds, BOOM, and the familiar rush to the water begins. I get a good start, push hard and the fastest guys start trickling past. I grab a series of feet to draft off, some are too much, and I lose them, but eventually I settle on the back of a Huub clad athlete with a ferocious kick that turns the green hue of the water around me a frothy white. I latch on and go with him. This tactic certainly improves my pace, but it soon becomes apparent he is terrible at sighting and swimming in a straight line. I intermittently leave his trail as he zig zags about, and eventually, as we turn the first bouy he swings wide, and I drop him, not on speed, but by simply getting my head regularly out the water and making sure I’m pointing at the next bouy. I pick up a few more guys by working hard to catch a group ahead and again draft with them. By the seconds bouy I lose them, and the flavour of the swim is served at that point. Intermittent drafting opportunities, and longer periods of solo efforts, slogging to work to the back of the main front pack about 20 seconds ahead.

 

No excuses at the start. Hard and fast from the off.......

 

......swiftly followed by a dodgy dive/fall !!

The way the swim worked cost me about 30 seconds on my target overall, but it was a solid effort and I was happy to get out and enjoy the run down the chute into transition in just under 23 minutes.

 

The wetsuit was down on the run and off the legs as soon as I found my spot. Helmet on, bike grabbed and out the other side. An efficient and no hassle transition.

On the bike it’s a bit of a meander out the park with a slight climb and then onto the road. It proved a windy start that required some hard work. I tried to get my head down, back flat and began eating away at a few of the back markers from the wave in front. I wasn’t being passed, and holding steady against the respective athletes dotted in front from my wave.  The first climb warmed the legs, and I settled into the rhythm, taking on fluids as required to keep fresh.

Having done the course a few times, and Olympic distance now being pretty much a training distance the miles soon got eaten up, and I reflected on the first few standard distances I completed and how tiring I felt them and how challenging they were. It is funny how things change over time, and I enjoyed seeing people out on the course giving it their all, some on bikes that were clearly the ride of a first timer, but also clearly loving it.

Just over half way round there’s a particularly big climb, which I stood up on and ground out. I focused on training I have been doing at this point ready for the hilly course in Austria, and while the splits on the back of my hand were indicating the wind had certainly slowed me up compared to last year I felt a lot stronger on the hill than I have done previously, and it was good to reach the top where there is always a collective group of sadist spectators enjoying the sight of suffering athletes as they crest the climb, and be able to look them in the eye with a flat stare, not the usual heaving chest and weak legs!

From there the road rolled through a few villages and climbed back to the main road that eventually turned for the last few villages and 1 final nasty sharp climb, before it was back into the park. About 8 miles out I decided to take on a caffine loaded gel to pick me up for the run. I had been feeling a bit fatigued and decided it would help. I had taped an SIS gel to the stem, but hadn’t paid attention to the flavour. It was cappuccino. Squeezing it into my mouth wasn't pleasant. I needed the hit, but no pun intended – that one wasn’t my cup of tea! I’ll stick to what I know in future I think.

Dismount and through T2 without any issue I was disappointed in my bike times, I could see I had dropped about 4 minutes, which is unacceptable, and a huge margin, and had gone from the 23mph that I have hit round that course before to 21.5mph. Looking back afterwards the conditions of the day probably accounted for a couple of those minutes, but with another few to account for I have been honest and on reflection come to the conclusion that with all my training being for a long focus there probably just isn’t that raw thumping  power delivery  there at the moment that is needed to empty the tank over the 2hrs of an Olympic distance. When all the A races are about 4+hrs it becomes a different animal, and that change in focus shows up with me when racing across differing distances. The depth isn’t there (yet). On a positive note it is good to see this effect, and gives me something to work on over the winter depending on which way I decide to go with 2017.

 So onto the run, it wasn’t too hot, and I settled quickly into a sustainable pace, remembering to press a bit harder every couple of hundred meters to ensure I wasn’t easing off. Just shy of 2k in the lead athlete passed me on the way back in, at which point I began counting as a few more passed, ready to shout data at others that I knew were ahead, so they had some info on where they stood relative to the leader to give them something to work against.

 

A great photo from Ella as I settle in on the run.

 

Around 3.5k in I realised that I hadn’t seen a friend from Lincoln in my Age Group that I knew was keen to beat me this year. He has been working hard with this as his A race focus to Q for Mexico at the World Champs, and I had hoped to pass him on the bike. Always a quicker swimmer I would previously have taken him at around mile 10 on the bike, but hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him throughout the last 1hr 40min, and started looking out for him passing the other way, trying to see what kind of gap he had held on me, and if there was any hope of clawing it back over the run. It was something to work on and it upped my pace, focusing my mind.

Waiting, and waiting for the pass but it didn’t come. I couldn’t get my head round it as I went round the cone at the turning point, my first thought was surely Jp isn’t that far ahead? It seemed the only explanation and I was pretty demoralised if I am honest. That was until about 750m back the other way  &I passed him on his outward leg. Genuinely surprised we nodded, and I blurted out “I’m not sure how that’s happened” to which he replied “Me either”. He said after he was waiting for the pass at any point on both the bike and the run. According to the stats I passed him on the bike, but neither of us saw each-other and both would expect to spot each other, and be actively looking out for one another. A very strange quirk of the race.

 After that it gave me the impetus to push a bit harder and hold the gap. I never saw Jp again, but am really pleased to say he took Qualification with his time none the less, not far behind at all in the end, and a huge dent on previous margins. On another day, another course there’d be a really close battle to be had now. I look forward to that down the line.

Along the dam, over the rolling grass and into the finish straight. Big cheers from fellow club atheltes, friends and most importantly Ella, who had got herself in prominent spots and cheered her head off, and shouted splits and times at me through out the day. She fired the camera and I crossed the line. 

 

Hitting the home straight.

 

After the race we stuck about to cheer on fellow club members, particular highlights being Katie completing her first Olympic distance just 2 weeks ahead of her first half Iron, and then  Laura forming the swim leg of a relay team taking second placed team over all. A fantastic result, with a strong swim/bike and run split through out. A partial podium for Louth at least! Then finally, but certainly not least Miriam took a fantastic PB on the run leg of her relay team, before going off and doing a second 10k race as a pacer the next day!!  Great results all round.

 

Post race with Laura and Katie.

 

Afterwards we went to load up the tent, only to be gratefully surprised that Ella and my brother had used their time while we were out on the bike wisely, and everything was packed and sorted ready to dash after the race. Thanks! You saved some tired legs doing some unwelcome work.

And so that was Dambuster 2016. Not my best result, 12^th in my age group out of 158. Could certainly have been better, but I have to be pragmatic and accept that last year here was a big focus and I was wired to the mains for it. If I can gear up in the same way for Austria then I will be laughing, and it gives practical substance to the value and importance of ‘peaking’ in your training plan.

 

Dambuster remains my favourite course.

 

 

 

 

 

2015 Race Review

2015 is a bit clever, and has its own page for your reading pleasure:

http://workingclasstriathlete.blogspot.co.uk/p/2015-review.html

Dambuster 2015.

Dambuster Triathlon being an Olympic distance ITU World Qualifier race means it always attracts the cream of amateur competition, and is a great test of current form against the best fellow athletes in the Country. With getting on for a few thousand entrants it's one not to miss.

 

I have to say that this race is fast becoming one of my favourites of the calendar, and this year didn't disappoint.

 

It's got a great swim, a hilly bike and a picturesque run. Thrown into the mix this year was the last minute update of an alien & invasive shrimp species present in Rutland Water, causing a few waves between club members, do they bite? don't they? I did my best t warn them all but until confirmation at the race briefing it seemed many thought I was pulling their leg. All good fun, I just wish I had remembered to take my very apt run hat.



I never expected the hat to work on so many levels!



We ate early and well on Friday night and headed off to register.

 

(I've been thinking lately of the best term for a collection of club members, because every event is a sea of bright yellow Louth Tri hoodies, generally pooling together en masse ready to cheer and shout as the athletes pass.)

 

On arrival I was pleased to hear the parking was free that evening. That had saved me a fiver, and made a pleasant surprise from the usual casual greed places seize the opportunity to operate.

 

Ambling over to the tent I ran straight into a Blunder (decision made) of Club mates, excited & hyped for the race. We had a chat, got signed up and I headed back to the family who had stretched their legs in the park, and we took the final 5 miles to the hotel.

 

On arrival we checked in without bother, and it was good to see the rest of the hotel filling with bods lugging bikes up the stairs. The room was clean and tidy, nothing fancy, but the staff had assured us that they were prepared to do breakfast early at 5am instead of the usual 6.

 

I met briefly with Oliver who passed me a wedding invite which was a nice surprise, and bonus to the evening, and had a quick chat about what would be his first Open Water and Olympic distance event. I was kind of envious of the first time feeling, remembering my own trepidation.

 

I sat and faffed with my registration pack, putting stickers on the bike and the helmet, setting the number on the belt, and writing my splits on my hand. After that, with everyone washed and ready for bed I took the children down to the car, and locked them in it for the night so they could sleep, and tucked the bike up in bed. It looked beautiful snoozing away in its new wheels kindly lent to me by a friend after the prang buckling the back wheel the week before.

 

The bike got tucked in for a good secure nights sleep in the hotel family room.

By 4:40am the following morning it was apparent we were all laid there waiting to get up. Well I was anyway, so by 4:45am all the Balls were up and getting ready began. A quick pot of porridge & honey while the family went down and enjoyed cereal and toast. I mixed my home made concoction into a bottle for energy on the bike, packed the car and racked the bike. The family, by now fully resigned to their fate at my hands are used to the preposterously early mornings, and took it with good grace, and were ready and willing to cheer from the early hours.

 

We arrived at Rutland Water just before 6am. It was busy, but the site was efficient, and the cars moved smoothly to park.

Pre race Pre Amblers

 

 

We unpacked, I pumped the tyres, unloaded the box and set off for transition. It was filling up nicely. This year, where as the year before we were on the tarmac, I was further through the transition pit and on the grass. It was a fair bit further to run, but I was actually quite pleased, because it would mean there was no rush to unzip and pull down the wetsuit before reaching the bike. I set everything up and remembered to leave my number belt on under the wetsuit. (For info - that worked really well, I never felt it on the swim and it was done and ready to go as soon as the wetsuit was off.) I practiced the run to the bike, and out, and then back through T2 and onto the run.

 

Once everything was set  there was time for the round of enthusiastic hellos with a multitude of familiar faces. Everyone excited and focused. The weather was perfect, no wind and high light cloud, neither hot or cold. No low sun to blind us in the swim.

 

After race briefing it was down the water, and a chance to watch the first wave consisting of  team swimmers and men under 35. Toes to the waters edge, the crowds went silent and the tension mounted awaiting the horn. The air horn pierces the air and the masses charge for the water. The fun has begun. I get a tingle of excitement from the adrenalin that is now pumping,  knowing that in a few minutes that will be me, as I watch and cheer club mates thrash out into the lake.

 

The Madness begins

 

 

Straight down to a quick acclimatisation swim, I'm out again and ready. Stood with a friend on the waters edge, sure of the best start, we discussed the best line and the official stated '10 seconds'. I started the watch. What seemed like an age passed, not a murmur around me. A few coughs from the spectators on lakeside in the background.

 

'HURRRRRRRRRRR' of the horn. Charging for the water I have to sprint hell for leather to the waters edge. Being shorter than the average man I am diving earlier and swimming sooner than the masses behind who can stride out deeper before they have to take the plunge. I have to get ahead to avoid being trampled. Everything went smoothly, and soon enough I shook off the athlete trying to swim on my back behind me and settled into the tow of some slightly quicker feet, and got to work on the swim.

 

 

After the usual jumbled 200m I settled in and paced off my breathing, figuring this was a good opportunity to test the 'Iron pace'. After trading off some feet to just before the first buoy I decided this guy was easing off slightly. I pulled aside him as we rounded the buoy and made the break for the next group in front. The next set of feet were perfect. Soon enough I was gliding along and catching my breath after working hard a few seconds before. The power of the draft is incredible, extra speed for less effort is an opportunity not to be wasted. I stretched out and touched the guys feet. It must have surprised him because his legs jerked into life and he kicked out in fury. The water frothed in front of me.

 

After that it was simple, like herding a beast. Every time I felt he wasn't providing the draft I felt he was capable of I tickled his feet (like a jockey whipping the horse) and again he would kick out in fury and up his pace. After about 800m of this he got cheesed off and sat up in the water, turned about and swore at me. That made me smile so I flogged him some more with a playful tug or 2 of the ankle.  I moved up his hip and tucked under his pit for a bit. His ample draft had served me well and I turned it up for the last 400m, kicked my way clear on fresh legs to warm them up ready for the bike.

 

Out the water and into the cheers of the crowd. I spotted the family straight away on my right, and sprinted to the bike with their encouragement in my ears.

 

The family making me smile as I run to T1.

A glance at the watch confirmed the swim as 22minutes. That put me squarely on a dead 6:00 per 400m pace. I was certainly comfortable enough to have held that for double if I had saved the kick at the end until needed at the end of the 140.6 next month. It's good to see things coming together.

 

Transition was smooth except for having to help one heel out of the suit with the flick of a finger. Otherwise fine. Grabbing the seat post, driving the bike forward I hit the ground and headed for the exit.

 

As I mounted I felt that I had taken my time, almost cautious, as I just wanted to get my feet comfy and settled without any issue. Talking to a team mate after it seems like it was the sensible thing to do with a lot of apparent carnage as people went to saddle up. Chains & people off, accidents and mishaps galore. 1 man by all accounts even managing to have his shoes on the wrong way round and having to stop to swap them over. I just didn't want a repeat of the week before out of T1.

 

That said, I settled into the bike quick, and took a quick drink to wet my whistle as I left the park and headed out onto the main road. The upside (trying to find one) of last week was that I took T1 calmly and it paid off, but also the buckle in the wheel had led to me borrowing a pretty slick pair of carbon tubulars off a friend. I have to be honest and say they felt good from the off. With no wind and some  undulating beginning miles to warm up on I was soon in my stride.

 

Around this point I decided that Triathlons are a bit of a weird way of time travelling. Here I was at 07:45am pedalling for all I was worth, cars passing, thinking about the swim before. Yet it had the feel of 2 in the afternoon with so many people around. Normally, training at this time of day the roads are bereft of anything but wildlife at the weekend, especially on back roads.

 

At the mile 7 marker I could see I was a minute up on the splits etched on the back of my hand.

 

Heading South off the west side of Rutland Water everything felt good, I felt strong and I grinned happily at myself. he bike felt strong, the weather was good and I was eating up the competition. I was really enjoying this.

 

Mile 11, and I had taken in a steep long climb, but the gap on my splits held firm. At the half way marker I hadn't been passed, and had ticked a lot off the wave before me. The back half of the course being the hillier I took on plenty of fluid and a couple of gels before getting my head back down for some good solid consistent effort. Still feeling strong.

 

Coming down into 1 village off a hill I smiled as I tripped the sad face on the speed display thing you sometimes get, it registered 31mph. Thankfully it wasn't a speed camera. This was around the 18 mile marker, and again I checked my times. I was now about 2 minutes up on what I had expected, and it crossed my mind that the trusty Casio F-91W 1980's original model had stopped or paused then re-started without me noticing. This thought panicked me, and suddenly worrying I might be down on what I thought I decided to give the final 8 miles of mostly up hill everything I could to be safe.

 

Taking on the rest of my juice and the last gel at around mile 22 I had 4 and a bit miles for it to settle, and then into T2. Assessing the bike as I began to think about the run and I realised I was still feeling fresher than usual for this point. I couldn't help but smile and take it all in as I rounded the bend to all the cheering supporters and had time to take on board plenty of shouts aimed at me from family and club members alike as I dismounted and dumped the bike ready for the run. The splits after confirmed the 26.25 miles were done in 1hr 08minutes. Just a tiny bit shy of a 23mph average through out the ride. Pleased with that, and admittedly with help from Glenns beautiful wheels.

 

Trainers on quick. Hurtling down the racking I passed a mate who had bagged the events fastest swim time as part of a relay with 18min 30secs. A properly great effort, but I remembered passing his team mate in the back half of the ride. Before hand he was adamant they could hold me off, and a friendly wager said otherwise. Their 10 minute head-start on the wave and then then additional 4 he had put on the swim on me gone, and more, as he stood looking hopefully for his team mate to pass the baton to their runner. I grimaced as I passed, and he eye balled me and shouted 'Run man, faster'. This drove me to find my feet quicker and I stomped past the trip mat, more cheers from the family and out on the run.

 

Once into my stride I felt pretty comfy early on. I passed a good slog of runners, and at about 2 miles in passed the lead athlete coming the other way. I started counting the wave 1 runners as they whipped passed, looking out for a good friend who is using the event to warm up for his slot in Team GB in Geneva later in the summer. As we passed I motioned he was in 7th, and through the agony of his efforts he nodded an understanding.

 

I'd heard breathing off my shoulder for a while around this point, aware a strong runner was pacing off me while he caught his breath and got ready to pass. Then I noticed another guy I know running towards me. Just as we were about to pass the runner behind me stepped up a gear and slipped past, as he did so saying "Morning Sean" as casually as possible, cool as a cucumber to the guy we clearly both knew coming the other way. A truly class move that made me smile 

 

At half way I had managed to hang on to his coat tails, and was a good way up on my times now. All I had to do was hold it.

 

Round the cone at half way and a simple retrace of the steps. It's a good flat run and I was settled until the last 2km. At that point it undulates, goes through woods and over grass with some climbs that sap your strength at the end. I passed some team mates and traded high 5s before the final push for home.

Final effort, in the impeccable Delta Simons supplied Suit.

A sprint for the line and job done, run in 38min 03secs, meaning a 6:03 minute mile average. I had hoped for under 6, but with a total time of 2hrs 11min, 36th overall in the race, and 10th in my age group, but less than 3 minutes from the 1st placed 35-39'r at a national qualifier I was well happy.

 

The congratulations after, cheering in other friends. The atmosphere was great. For Louth Tri it was a great day. Our Chairman took 2nd in his age group of 60+, we bagged the fastest swim time from our relay team member, and another 2nd place from our GB man in the 30 to 34 category. That and several personal bests and some great results from first time standard distance athletes there was nothing bad to report. As usual the club were the most prevalent in their support of the team.

 

Packed up, and home in time for lunch. It felt like evening and we all slobbed on our beds until being roused by my parents who had popped round with some beer to congratulate me on earning Q2 of the automatic qualification spot for my age group to represent GB at Chicago in September.

 

An early night, and where as normally I would be tired the next day I woke early and was treated to a fathers day sausage sandwich and fresh coffee in bed. After that I felt motivated to squeeze in  a 30mile ride and a 6mile brick run. A hopeful invite text to a few friends who also completed yesterday got short shift. Fresh as a daisy. This Iron training certainly gives you stamina!

 I can honestly say I have seldom enjoyed an event more. Seamless organisation getting there and setting up, good weather, great company, great racing with some pb's and a GB qualification thrown in for good measure, and all before 10am.

 

Team Ball. The best support squad in the World.