The Beavers Middle Ground

So after 8 months of preparation I was staring down the barrel of my first Middle distance on Saturday.

The training was done, and the taper started. I had deliberately picked the Beaver (Belvoir) Middle Distance set in the grounds of Belvoir Castle and surrounding area because it is such a technical course. Some big hills on both the bike and the run, but with both sections on a 3 and 4 lap loop respectively, which meant for plenty of spectator opportunities for the family who were keen to come and support.

I managed to do a reccy of the course one evening the week before, and began to appreciate how tough one particular section of the bike and hill were. From the look of the forecast I could also see that I would be hitting that hill after a 5 mile straight with approx a 20mph wind blowing directly in my face beforehand. On top of that the only flat bit - the straight just mentioned, was mostly a false flat that had just been re-chipped. Any cyclist reading this will know what an absolute grind a new road surface dressing is. Makes for a rough ride, and loss of power. It was going to be a tough test all the way. I cant say I hadn't got what I wanted. what I was beginning to doubt was the targets I had previously set myself out in my mind.

It being a longer race I plumped for a full week of rest beforehand, all except a last open water swim on the Wednesday which included 800m skins at the end to help toughen me up.  By Thursday I was bouncing off the walls with energy, and struggling to stay calm. This was the longest I had gone without doing anything for months. My body was twitching with excitement. The bike got a more than the usual thorough strip down, oil, and polish in meticulous detail. If the bike failed me I didn't want it to be through negligence of my kit.

A full strip down and service before hand.

By Thursday and Friday I was driving the family mental, talking of nothing else, thinking of nothing else to be fair, and spending alot of time in the garage prepping the kit, going over stuff again and again. I dont like racing on a Saturday, it means I don't have a full day to waste getting everything ready, so it felt rushed doing it over 2 evenings. Friday, Sarah was at home, and spent the morning putting together a comprehensive looking picnic for the family and friends that had pledged to support and spectate.

I recieved a random text from 1 such would be supporter retracting her ability to attend on account of being assaulted in the street and spat on by a fallen pop star and having to stay in to give a statement to the police.... definitely the most original excuse I have ever had for someone cancelling on me, but so random as to have to be true. So we let her off.

By Friday night Sarah had served a top tea of trout, kale, brocolli and wholewheat pasta. That got demolished and we all hit the sack early ready for a quick get away early in the morning.

Final Meal.

I had set the alarm and Sarah was adamant she hadn't slept for fear of me not waking up, but at 04:44am I was out the bed and fighting the adrenalin, trying to stay calm, hyping all the bleary eyed Mini Balls that were less than enthusiastic at the unwholesome time of day they were being cojoled out the door. A big bowl of porridge, kit in the car, bike on the rack. Final checks and we were off.



2 happy campers at 05:15am. Unfortunately I couldn't fasten either of them to the bike rack
so had to risk putting the bike on there instead

By 06:30am we arrived. The main Castle entrance we pulled in to was locked, and the guy in front who was also parked up reckoned he had been in that way to pre register the day before. I suggested he force the gate, he looked perplexed, so we left him fiddling with the tanoy next to the entrance, and drove of a bit further down the road and found the signs directing us to parking.

Easy & ample parking, unload the car, pump the tyres, apply the tape to secure the back disc and before I knew it we were stood waiting to register. A quick flash of the liscense and I was issued my numbers, timing chip and the likes, and most originally a brown (it being The Beaver) T shirt, that was quickly taken up by Molly my youngest.

Setting up the kit, I took my time. The run from the swim out to T1 was a good 700m+ over grass, but reasonably flat. I had a good spot right in the corner where you came in from the swim, so finding my spot would be easy, but there was a down side. Transitions are normally set up as a 1 way kind of flow... but today it was bike out at the far end of where I was racked, but then bike in at the same point. That meant I had around another 250 to 300m of run pushing the bike to the mount line, but the same coming back. That would make transition a slow and awkward affair. It seemed unfair, the athletes at the far end were running a good 400m less distance pushing their bike over the course of the day than us at this end. Even with that extra to find I laid out a drink on the towel and decided I was taking a few extra seconds for some fluid after the wetsuit was off.



Early arrivals begin  filling Transition under the gaze of the Castle.

The pre-race blurb had stipulated a drinks station on the bike after each lap of the course. With that in mind I decided to take a punt and only had the one bottle of honey loaded homemade juice on the bike with me. The plan being to drink that for energy, then grab a drinks bottle at the station to wet my whistle and re hydrate as I passed. Silly to carry the extra weight if I didn't have to. So that and a few energy gels, and I was set.

Early on the weather was threatening. The blue inflatable arch in the distance is about half way from T1 to the swim out.
It was a long run in rubber.....

Queuing for my final poo in the bright pink portaloos I had a lovely chat with an older lady from down south, who had travelled the night before, and we watched some Red Kites circling over-head, her remarking how they were seeking to devour the flesh of the failed athletes at the end of the day.

All set, I greased and rubbered up and we headed down to the lake. In and floating about some quick warm up sprints and we jostled between the buoys for the optimum position.

All of a sudden the horn had sounded and it went from peaceful and aprehensive to absolute bedlam. I just had time to hit the start button on the watch and the washing machine turned to Super Spin cycle. Everything around me was a murky muddy froth.

Draft on the bike and you're DQ'd. Trip someone up on the run and you're DQ'd.
Punch and kick a man in the head in a cold lake, and you're fine. 

Kicking like hell to get up to speed the elbows had to go wide and hard from the off to carve some personal space to breath. The guy on my right, much larger than me seemed hell bent on thumping me in the back of the head with every entry of his left arm. A couple of slaps back didn't abate him, but breathing to my own left I understood his issue as the low bright morning sun glared in my eyes, mixing with the churning water to blind me on that side. I tried tucking under his armpit and drafting his crazy stroke, but that didnt work, so I moved to the left. NO room there pal. I was straight up against the side of another guy and as I turned again to my left to breath and avoid the lunatic on my right popping my goggles as I tilted to his side I was suddenly eyeball to eyeball with lefty. We locked gaze for a split second, goggles almost touching, and then both dissapeared back down, head into the water. That glance was enough though, I spotted the weakness in his returning stare, the smell of fear at the boiling melee about him. Elbows back wide as my right hand man came lunging further over, I kicked out harder and swung sharp to the left, swimming clean up and over the guy I'd just eyeballed. I felt him beneath me for a few strokes, as I swam on his back, then he weakened, submerged and was gone. I had his spot to myself now, with some space to the sides. Now we could settle in, grab some faster feet in front, get in a draft and ease off the kicking and let the chest do the work.

After the inital 30 seonds of lunacy the swim was a decent, even paced affair. Twice round the course, it was unbelieveably silty and muddy at the far end. Sighting was required more frequently than I would have liked, it didn't taste unclean, but was thick with mud. I was satisifed at the end I had made the most of finding a pace that was just about sustainable breathing every 3 strokes. Looking ahead I could see I had assumed my normal position in the swim of 'best of the rest'. There was a block of the specialist swimmers out front, then I found myself in the hinter land, ahead of the masses, but away from the leaders by between 30 seconds and a minute. Me and a few other drifters.

Past the first loop and I saw the family cheering on the bank. I did my best to smile and pull a quick wave.

A great photo by my brother as I swam past. Thanks.

Climbing out the water I glanced at my watch and it read 26:42. Straight into the long run to transition I unzipped to my waist and was greeted by my brother and daughter who ran alongside me shouting encouragement and stats. That was hugely motivating, and Ella confirmed I was 16th out the water. While catching my breath and processing the swim (as I ran) I realised how much I had missed it. The bonkers start, the face down effort in the complete unknown. The cold wet start - to heart pounding, breathless madness inside a few seconds The absolute black of the murky water. The light dancing on the surface. How it looks so calm from above, hiding the unknown fury that is going on below. The big handful of scaly fish I grabbed about 1/3 of the way round that swiftly swished its tail to free itself from my grasp. I bloody love open water swimming. 

Working the figures afterwards confirmed I'd done a 5:37  400m pace for just over 1.2 miles. Well happy with that. By far my best swim for a long time, it buried a few demons from the pool sprints earlier in the year. I have always much favoured being in a lake or the sea, and as a mate always says 'dont worry, you've done the training, it will all come together when it counts'. He's right. That time was way better than I'd hoped.

The long lonely run to T1.

Some 3 minutes later and I am in transition, a welcome cheer and smile from Molly and Sarah as I entered. The wetsuit slips off my legs with ease, the helmet goes on and I curse at forgetting that I should have just put my number belt under the wetsuit to save clipping it on - as I do just that. I grab the drink and squirt half of it into my mouth. It tastes great.
 

What feels best is the sheer mass of bikes still in the rack around me, I don't see anyone else around except for 1 man 2 or 3 places down from me. All the while I am setting myself for the bike leg he is stood talking to me. It feels like a joke. He's trying to ask me about the swim, how windy the bike will be. I nod to be polite and wish he would shut up, I cannot understand how a man who has clearly had a great swim can be so blase and slow in his attack on the course. As I take hold of the bike and make to run past him he wishes me a good race, like he is is a spectator. He has been out of his wetsuit the whole time I am there. I am perplexed and wonder if he will start blow drying his hair. All he was missing was a cup of tea.



Welcome to T1. Sit back, take a load off, I think we should be friends. Nutter.

Onto the bike, I elected to band the shoes as normal. It's still quicker than not, and there's no point in wasting time. T1 in just over 1 minute. Given the distance running through it and the quick drink I took I was pleased with that. Checking my super-high-tec on board wizardry that is a written list of time splits on the back of my hand I can see that I am 4 minutes up on what I targetted at this point. Excellent news.

True Working Class Triathlete Style -
My patented, cutting edge, on-board live timing technology.

And so out of the castle grounds, high up looking across the vale of Belvoir the wind is strong, as I turn down the first hill and after about 2 miles we were into the straight. Rumbling along on the stone chips into a strong head wind is hard, but I can see a few people ahead. Head right down, a glance at the white line on my left, I know there's no turn to make, so keep that position and let the legs burn. I settle into what I have practiced, the best sustainable pace I think I dare hold that won't cripple me in the run later.

Off the straight, and the wind moves to my side & buffets me through the gaps in the hedges as I approach the just shy of a 4 mile climb culminating in the lowest gear, stand on the pedals and cry in pain slog that is the last 500m. Towards the top of this there is a gathering of sadists, sat cheering, laughing at the pain etched on the athletes face as he crests the top of the hill. The climb slowly slowly eases off, and a grab of the Ball Juice seems in order to invigorate me. Now there is a back wind, onto the flat, but after a brisk 1 mile of this there is a junction to a main road and the speed needs scrubbing. Being so high up the wind is one of those winds that always feels like you are working against it. Dipping down into a village the road twists and bends, it is difficult to maintain my pace.

Up and out of the village there is a decent bit of gentle down that gets a good hammering in the highest gear. This leans into a sweeping cambered right on decent tarmac, I commit my trust (and my arse) to the tyres completely and I imagine the countless other cyclists and motorbikers that have whipped through the bend here, and I grin as I lean over as far as I dare to hold the speed. This gives way to a sudden steep sharp down hill left. Too sharp not to break, it cruelly leaves you devoid of the speed you breifly tasted, and back into a climb.

The road opens out into a mostly back wind & undulating ride. Passing a few, being passed by a few, I feel like I am more or less holding my position. The sky is blue and although windy isn't cold. Head down, working hard I enjoy this segment the most as it turns into a wicked bit of decent downhill. Next time I come down here I'll be around half way.

Down hill long enough that I can stamp on the pedals in top gear to the point where I spin out, then shift my bum from the seat and lay my belly on the saddle, my backside hanging as long and close to the rear wheel as I dare. Chin on the head tube between the bars, completely out of control careering down the hill, my knees tucked in as aero as a I dare. One day this will go wrong, at best my bum will touch the back wheel and I will go home with a big rubber burn line up my crack. At worst I'm eating gravel. But not today. All too soon it ends as it curves back up and into the final village before the course enters the grounds of the Castle once more. This is another continual uphill into the wind, but the waterstation is in the distance as faithfully promised.

For once in my life being left handed is a genuine advantage, and grabbing the bottle from that side is easy. I ease off, take some decent mouthfuls of water, followed by more Ball Juice for energy, then more water. Disgarding the bottle the climb is steep into that head wind, then eases off as we approach the main staging area and supporters begin to appear, clapping, cheering, enjoying. Lap 1 down. and its back out and down. Checking the back of hand timer again I am now 5 minutes up on my pre race splits. Good work. I remind myself this isn't a cushion, but needs extending. The writing on there is a worst case scenario.

Lap 2 just happens, I know what's coming, it just needs doing, and looking at the times after I have stayed all but 30 seconds off the pace of the first lap. The main hills hurt a lot more, and I have taxed the energy gels and juice quite heavily to sustain the effort on this round. Back through the grounds and this time my family are there, cheering, clapping and making the most noise. Part of me really wants to stop and thank them all, slow down so I can see them longer, but all to swiftly they have gone again. It really means a lot that they can be bothered to sit around for so long to see me for such a short amount of time. I resolve to maintain my best effort for them.



Photo of the day goes to Ella for this snap of my whizzing past.

Lap 3 and the course is now busy with other competitiors on their 1st and 2nd laps. This gives a false feeling of ability as you pass some really easily, feeling like you are doing more than you are. My glutes are now burning, and these are joined by my thighs as I heave up the big hill for the final time. I finish the remaining juice and gels to give them time to process before the run.

I know my bike will be the weak point, and while I have passed some I am aware by the end of the ride that I have dropped maybe 8 places as some seriously capable competitors come hurtling past. This shows more than ever on the last lap, I know I am tiring, and this is where understanding the longer game comes into play. Some of the guys have taken their time, but I am reeled in and they storm past, unrelenting, hunting their next scalp as they pass. I am tempted to try and pace off a few of them, but that would be a bad move, I have to trust to my run, and stick to the plan. I'm confident I am still top 30.

Into the grounds for the final time, the family giving it hell again. This time friends have joined them for some extra abuse to be hurled as I go past. I am so busy appreciating the cheers I find the mount line upon me, and I have to look lively to get my feet out in time. The slightest lapse in concentration and I am nearly DQ for a stupid oversight. No matter, I dismount with mm to spare, and race to rack my bike.

Another quick drink, shoes on, and run. T2 is done in 1 minute and 1 second. Again, slow compared to normal, but given the distance to run pushing the bike it was good, and I am happy.

Settling into the run after that kind of bike isn't remotely funny. The family are all cheering me to instantly justify their support by demanding I overtake a competitor some 50m ahead. Soon enough he is passed, and we head through the trees out into the grounds of the Castle. I claim a few more easy wins from runners struggling to find their stride after the difficult bike.

Just as I settle we hit a hill. It's spoken about and warned about in the blurb, but this climb is just stupid. A steep hill around 1.25 miles in length. It's a dirty slog to the top and I take a few more places.  Grabbing a drink at the turn at the top of the hill, the stomach rejects the water and it comes back up. Nothing new there. Onto the downhill I let the legs free to try and make up the lost time from the uphill. Back through the woods, over the grass and round past transition to begin another loop. A barrage of family / friends cheers again is more than welcome and again Ella runs along side me, telling me that I am 25th, and if I stick to this pace I will hit my aims. Round the corner onto lap 2. Check the back of the hand and I am 9 minutes to the good. The run like the bike has got busier, as more people leave the bike leg and join us on the final stage.

All the while I have been exchanging positions with another athlete, he passes me, I pass him. He heaves and breathes heavy as he grinds it out, and we pass his support team a couple of times, them shouting out splits and positions. On the 3rd lap I realise that he is a full lap ahead of me from what his mate shouts at him, the athletes he is just ahead of, and behind. He is told he must hold the pace no matter what to beat the man he wants to beat. We strike into the hill for his final time and he surges ahead.

Around 300m up the hill it gets too much and he stops dead. Since the point I realise he is a full 3+ miles ahead of me in the run he is not a man I am battling for a spot with, and so as I approach and pass I do what I would hope any self respecting athlete would do for me. I shout abuse at him :  

'MOVE, RUN. NOW... Dont you dare stop. You will regret it if you do. Sort your shit out. It is only pain, embrace it you fool'.

He looks up and obliges, and we work off each others shoulder to the top. He doesn't look well, I am impressed by the drive he has. Somewhere deep inside he is forcing himself to continue. At the top once it becomes a bit easier he mutters 'cheers mate', and we turn and do our best to drag each other at an improved pace down the hill as the first placed man thunders past us both. We part ways, he enters the finishing chute to claim 4th place, and I turn for the final loop. That 3rd lap was the worst. I have been taught a lesson by that hill. Its a good job I have the extra bit of time from the swim and bike to trade off.

Grinding it out with the 4th placed man.

And so the final climb, looking at my watch thoughout I am aware the times have been well under what I have put down in training, although given the Hill it is hardly surprising. I nearly stop at the top, but know I will never forgive myself and struggle through, especially after the lip I gave bib 1 just 15 minutes earlier. Picking up some pace on the final down, my lungs and legs are now on fire. There isn't much left to give, but there isn't far left to go. With a painful push I'm back across the grass. The family are cheering and clapping and I'm over the line. I am free to lay down and die as the lady hangs a brown Beaver Middle medal around my neck, I enquire and she confirms I am 20th. 23 minutes behind the winner. I'm please with that.

I now understand the meaning of 'Spent'.

 

A quick drink and a round of hellos and congratulations from the fabulous Ball support team. I know they are all hungry, and aware there is a pack up in the boot. They have all waited for me, starving.... I urge them to get the food and get started. I have no choice but to sit and watch them all tuck in. It looks so good, but I feel like I expect. My stomach completely unable to stand anything inside it but sips of water. It will take a good few hours for this to subside, I just have to hope there is some left overs that I can pig out on in bed later.

My turn to support as I watch everyone

tuck into the food.

We grab the print out before we leave and I see that I have come 4th in my age group. I can't help but grimace at missing the podium, but doing the maths later I am chuffed to see that despite losing 8 minutes compared to my normal run pace I have still done the 13.1 miles in 1hr 30min, and the top 20 has put me at only 112.3% of the time of my Age Group, and in this case, the overall Winner.

 

I am more than aware that my achievements are modest and I write like I am winning, but that I am still a very long way off the guys at the top, but this is a learning curve, and I have taken a lot from it. More than anything I wanted to give it my best, and come away feeling I had given a good account of myself. I'm happy that 4hrs 20min does that.  With life to juggle, family and work, I try not to be disappointed at not being higher placed, but be pleased with what has been achieved.

 

To Qualify for GB at this Middle Distance you have to complete inside 120% of the winning AG time. At my first attempt I have got easily within the overall winning time to claim my spot for the Half Iron Worlds next year. I am already excited about that.

 

Much more importantly than that though, 70.3 Miles later, I have gained a lot of experience, information about myself, my limits and what I can at least half expect at the full Iron distance in a few months time. What I now know is that however hard I train it won't be enough. It will hurt like nothing I have experienced before, but I will love it. 

 

Sunday morning I was wide awake at 05:30am, and feeling like I had had a lay in. I realise that triathlon has ruined my life in some respects. I am now a slave to the early morning sun, those quiet golden training hours while the World still sleeps. My ankles ache from the strain of the down hill on that run the day before. So I get up and let my family sleep, and spend time in the green house pottering. Chewing over the race. A few hours later Sarah brings me out a brew, and we enjoy the day with family.

 

And so 06:30am this morning I was back in the pool. Back on the program. Like nothing has changed, but, going long is like starting again. A whole new sport. Re-setting the bar. Maybe now things will start to get serious.

Lincoln Sprint Triathlon & More.

Race 2 of the Midland Sprint series, it came around quick, just 2 weeks after the first race at Southwell.

Saturday (the day before) involved some unusual preparation. Up early for an easy swim to get some blood in the muscles. I wasn't swimming with the club, but along side them in the next lane.

It made a change to be on the receiving end of some casual abuse for being the slacker, caught talking and propping up the lane rather than swimming on more than a couple of occasions. That said, I had to smile while the participants of the structured swim set, many of who I was racing with and against the following day were giving me lip for taking it easy seemingly oblivious to the fact they were doing a set that involved what looked like a mile of kick at pace. I wasn't sure of the wisdom of that myself, but each to their own. I was happy to be controlling my own preparation with that as the alternative.

After the swim we had organised a transition coaching set. A good T1 & T2 will gain you valuable seconds, and seconds make places on the results table. With a huge array of times posted at the previous race it was agreed as a good idea, and the turn out was fantastic.

Ideas were shared, and advise on what worked, group practice of the in and out, and repeating the routine of Bike, Belt. Helmet, GO! A minority agreed to try banding up their bike shoes to the frame, so we did a side dish of that, with mixed success. It's something to practice before hand, not something to try for the first time on the day.... but getting it right saves you a lot of time. Putting on shoes and running in cleats is slow. Way slower than just jumping on your bike and getting on with it. Even if you get your feet in the bike slowly and take time to get moving at pace, you are still on the bike and moving. Not sat in T1 powdering your feet....

I ran into the owner of the timing company the following morning, and he told me he had forgotten to mention the week before that I had bagged the fastest cumulative splits for the Transitions at Southwell 2 weeks previous. Confirming I am too old to secure the fastest time at any of the 3 main disciplines, but can still get in and out quicker than the rest.



Pre Race Louth Tri Transition training

Home after the training and a 'quick' full 70.3 brick to keep with the going long program. It felt wrong so close to the race, but it has to remain about the bigger picture.

Sunday morning, up early and it was dire. Wind and rain howling away. It was never going to be an easy race.

My eldest Ella still got up with me, a keen junior Triathlete she remained happy to come and cheer and support, and given the weather it was more than welcome and appreciated.

We got their early again, to support family and early starters from the club. I hung the bike on the rack, watching the wind blow the disk about like a sail. Being a short arse my bike borders on child's size, and the front wheel struggled to keep contact with the ground. Making sure the box lid was good and tight I tried my best to prop the box at the side of the wheel to steady the beast, and left it to nature to see if my kit remained dry in the box, and the bike in my spot. A quick glimpse at the early exiters from the swim, they looked cold and weathered entering T1and about to brave the elements. Watching them watch those entering T2 as they went out was amusing, but it was doing nothing for my enthusiasm for the day. At the same time at the back of my mind, knowing myself well, I knew as tough as I found it, others would find it tougher, and what I lack in height I make up for in resilience. These kind of conditions are what the ice swimming is made for. It's taught me resolve. With that in mind we retreated inside.

Inside was an inverse relationship to outside. The atmosphere, albeit damp from the weather with all the huddled steamy damp bodies was warm and upbeat. Plenty of chats and catch ups as always and I was starting to feel the urge to race.

 

A few hours of clapping people off the start line, and running to different points to cheer people in, I left it as late as I dare to set up my kit, and so cheered my Dad in - who it turned out was knocked off on the bike, but suffered the run regardless, and then finally rushed off to set up my station. It was still windy and blowing, but the Ball-Box had done its job. Everything inside it had stayed dry the last few hours. I congratulated its translucent plastic construction for working so effectively, then promptly opened the lid and got everything wet through.  

A slightly damp transition

I wasn't sure about the towel, but being in a car park the transition has a lot of little pebbles and stones and bits of grit. Regardless of how well it would or wouldn't dry my feet standing on it would remove some of the debris before I put my shoes on later. So I laid it out and it soaked up the rain like a sponge.  I balanced the helmet and belt as sturdily as I could to prevent them being blown about, and did a pared down practice routine for T1. Others around me we prepping with equally morose faces. I blew up the tyres on my bike, and then had a minor panic.

 

With running a home made disc on the back I don't have the luxury of a hinged access panel to the valve, so after blowing the tyre up I have to carefully re-apply tape to stick my plastic insert back down flush. Soaking wet weather is never going to make this easy. I faffed about, began to get wound up and so stood back and took a breath. I went back to the box, took out a super absorbent brand of dish cloth I always keep tucked away and carefully dried the necessary area. That, and some premium quality duct tape (again in the box!) and it was secure. I could live with the extra 3 grams weight of duct tape this once. And in that 5 minutes alone the trusty Ball Box has paid for itself again, and the time taken to pack for every eventuality. The abuse, and ridicule it inspires at home as I clat about going through it again and again, considering every eventuality. After all the minor excitement I decided I was cold and keen to retreat indoors, and so I didn't even tape an energy gel to the bar this time. If I got that thirsty I could always bike with my mouth open. Job done.

 

Back inside and dumping my clothes on poor Ella, who was disappearing under coats, brollies and towels from people keen to have someone look after them for her. ( After the race she came over to congratulate me - and show me that her bag was so stuffed full it had broken under the weight. The box couldn't help her here.) I added to the pile and cleared off to warm up for my start. I got a good catch up with some more competitors, and looking around at the last few waves as we gathered to start could see there was a strong decent field of athlete in the mix. A final pre race poo and we were ready to rock.

 

From the off the swim felt OK, more comfortable than last time. Ella informed me after I seemed to die off badly in the last 200m, so something to work on there. Its useful to have someone watch and comment honestly.

 

Into the  bike, I didn't notice the wet, everything went smoothly and I was through T1 in 31 seconds. I got my feet in without issue this time and stuck my head down and pedalled hard on the initial straight, controlling my breathing and settling myself in time for the hill. There is 1 big hill, a decent climb that gradually gets steeper to a big push at the end. I alternated between standing and sitting, back straight. Soon enough we were at the top, off the junction and the final little crest cleared and it was time to put the hammer down. Back wind and a down hill at a decent elevation made for a swift stretch of road spanning about 1/4 of the course. Most of this was done at about 30mph and it felt good. All the while at the back of your mind the little voice laughing at you, knowing come the turn when you have to pedal back into that wind and rain you wont have it so easy.

 

Sure enough the grind back in came about soon enough, so tucking down chin to the headstock I knocked it down a few gears, kept the revs around 90rpm and let the legs burn hot back for home. Plowing through standing water it was fortunate that the carriageway was closed for the duration of the race and I didn't have to take much care to look up. Just head down and suck it up. Dismount on the line without issue, and another cheer in my ear of 'Go Dad' gave me the boost to hammer the run.

Ella  making me laugh with some lip as I exit T2.

Bike down, shoes on and a strong kick from the off. The run has felt good for around a month, and this being the worst run of the 3 sprint races in the series I wanted to get it out the way as soon as possible. Up the bank, down the tow path, back on yourself. At this point I passed a team mate coming the other way, and knowing his rough pace was able to judge my own at around the 5:45 min mile mark. Then past the finish line, through a group of lunatic club members - I couldn't help but ramp up the pace to meet their demands to 'stop jogging and start running'. Soon after the buzz of the crowds had subsided the most appalling stitch kicked in. For 1 split second I entertained stopping as my right hand side bit down on me, causing a wince with every step. So I shouted some abuse at myself to man up (to the shock of the runner next to me) and eased off slightly until it let up.

 

As soon as it eased enough I wicked it back up, round the final cone and back into the wind and wet for home. Finally round the corner, easily spotted by the wall to wall all weather Louth Supporters, a barrage of cheers and finished. 1:05:32.

 

Let's ignore the swim. The bike was a 22.8mph average and then a steady 5:54 run pace. Without the stitch and easing off on the run I'm sure I could have been a 1:04:**. Next time.........

 

I had  a 1:05 something in my mind, and given the day was pleased with the result. A decent 12th overall against a strong field, but a meagre 3rd in my age group this week. Not that it mattered, both of those above me are top class GB athletes, and not in the series this year. Their points count for nought in the league table!

 

Of course the sun beamed down the second we went to pack up, and so back home and a restful afternoon slobbing with the family watching bikes.

 

Next day, making the most of the bank holiday it was back on it and into the training with a long ride.

 

A current issue I am struggling with now training for longer distance is keeping on weight. I currently weigh now what I usually weight at the end of the season, just over  9 1/2 stone. I seem to be bleeding lbs in weight all over the place, and the last race has cost me another few. Without eating junk it seems impossible to find the bulk. At present I am consuming 3500 to 4000 cal a day, and my stomach is working over time to process it.  Our house doesn't always smell pretty. Below is a typical day.

Breakfast now includes a cheese, avocado and tomato grilled sandwich with a poached egg on top.

 

Followed by fruit, nuts and yoghurt.



A typical lunch of fish, pasta veg & sweet potato.
 

and stir fry with turkey for Tea.

All of this gets washed down with 1 to 2 litres of milk a day, homemade juice after each training session, cereal (or similar) for supper, additional fruit and nuts to snack on throughout the day, and the endless supply of homemade cake and biscuits that the 'Kitchen of Love' that is our Home churns out.

 

If you enjoy eating become a triathlete!

 

And so now into the final week of hard graft before I ease off for the Half Iron.

Behind the Scenes.

Another productive and fruitful day - especially as it was meant to chuck it down.

 

I've just got in from a mornings training that included an hours swim with a miserable mid section of 800m kick (thanks Amy.) Actually the set was particularly useful because of the 400m f/c warm up. After taking yesterday as a rest day and pre occupying over the bad swim at Southwell last Sunday I had decided in the week that maybe it was down to a loss of power through weight loss. It gets hard to keep weight on without eating crap when you need to find 3500 / 4000cal a day to stand still. Once you start race season it is a battle in itself to maintain fighting weight. Last night we went out for tea and totally pigged out on cheesy nacho starters, along with a shared platter of various fried things, and then a turf and surf for the main. All washed down with 2 pints. 2 Pints!! (My first drink for 3 weeks, and the most in a single sitting since Christmas). So a day of no exercise and over indulgence....turns out my body was grateful. Into the pool this morning, 400m warm up, 6:02min without even trying. There was easy another 15 to 20 seconds in me there. So, lesson learnt, sometimes its good to ease off a bit. Talking to a mate after the set he pointed out the obvious "you trained through that race, you were obviously just tired". Sometimes you need to hear the obvious for it to sink in.

 

We then did a quick half an hour interval run set, everyone putting in a solid effort and then home and out on the bike for 50 miles. I ummed & arred about it with the wind being as it is, but apart from the odd gust that snuck through the gaps in the hedge that caught the back disk everything was fine.

 

I say fine, a few miles of 30+mph with a strong wind on your back is great fun, but I didn't think it was so clever grinding it out the other way.  That said the ride remained comfortable with some beautiful rolling clouds, all dark and broiling, but with the sunlight catching them and contrasting vividly again the now fresh green hedgerows and bright yellow of the stinking oil seed rape that is swiftly coming into bloom. A strong wind often seems to bring great visibility, and today felt like everything was in HD with the contrast turned up to high. That and some tunes in my ears along with only 1 pillock motorist instead of the usual few made for an easy 20.5mph average over the full 50, never stepping over 150 on the HR monitor. Its built a bit more confidence for the 70.3 that's 3 weeks today.

 

So, home and off the bike. The family are out, and the lawn is mown. I have to stay in to wait for some furniture to be delivered, and thought I'd check the counts on the blog view.

And there we have it......

 

So there we have it. 100,430 views. Inside 6 months I am struggling to believe it, but the computer says YES!.

As promised to celebrate I'd now like to hand over to my special blog guest for the day, no one other than Steve Paley - Operations Manager for 1Step Beyond Promotions, and organiser (along with others in their close and professional team) of The East Midland Sprint Series Triathlons, and the likes of the Outlaw (Iron distance) Triathlon and  numerous other events. This close team of dedicated people have brought a great series of events to the Midlands and beyond, and have won 'Race of the Year' back to back for no less than the last 4 years for their troubles. If you haven't already then its worth checking out their website at http://www.onestepbeyond.org.uk/. There's something there for everyone, from beginner to pro, if your thinking of having a go at your first event - get signed up.

We all turn up and enjoy these events, often without really thinking about what is involved from the other side, so without further a do here is Steve to give us an insight into what goes on behind the scenes to make sure we all have a great day:

Behind the Scenes with OSB – Southwell Tri 2015

 It won’t be any surprise to hear that as soon as each event finishes we start looking forward 12 months to the following year’s event. So Southwell Tri 2015 started for us in May 2014 with the event debrief looking at what worked and what can be improved upon to make the experience for you the athlete better next time round. Then it’s a question of putting these suggestions and recommendations, which come from our awesome event crew and you the athletes, into practice.

 What an event 2015 was, from behind the scenes the plan that we put in place went according to plan, well almost! It was different for us this year having to move the event base from the Leisure Centre up to Southwell Rugby Club.

 With the added complication of having to switch the event date after the entries had already been rolling in, trust me when I say it’s no mean feat to switch over 300 individuals entries across the 2 events that we had to switch round and it kept the office busy for weeks to get communication with everybody, it really helps us if we have an up to date email address that people will reply to, you’ll be amazed at how many people don’t read emails – but we got there in the end making use of the old fashion method of communication called a telephone which is used less and less these days. How old do I sound!

 For us the team really kicks into top gear as soon as the entries for the event close, which means all systems go! With entries closing on the Wednesday morning the main priority is getting the start list sorted so all of you know your race numbers and start times. It would be great if this only took 5 mins, unfortunately it is a very long winded process due to the way that we seed and manage the start list. Things we need to ensure are up to date:

1.       Any changes athletes have informed us about – including swim time changes, so we can seed swimmers to be swimming with people of the same speed. It is important that people give accurate times so they don’t impede other athletes in the pool.

2.       Ages and putting you all into the correct age groups.

3.       Sorting the ladies into the women’s only swim lanes to save them from the testosterone filled male lanes!

 This process can take half a day for one person to put together – that’s if there aren’t any issues with downloading the data from the entry system. On this occasion we had issues which meant that we were also then reliant on others to provide us with the information we needed to get you your start time.

With nearly 2000 labels to print, 625 envelopes to stuff with race numbers and bike security stickers, age category prizes to get produced, Timing data to send to the timing team, T-shirts to order and get printed not only do we have pressure in the office to get everything ready for you to make your race day go as smooth as possible. In addition we also apply a huge amount of pressure on our suppliers to ensure that we get all of these items ready for you when registration opens at 06:45!

 In amongst all of this we need to recruit a team of approximately 60 volunteers to help make your day run like a dream. The people that come to help us deliver our events are by far the best event crew in the country! You might think us biased, though it’s not us that says this, it’s you the athletes that come and race at our events. Their commitment doesn’t start on race day, we regularly get volunteers that give up their whole weekend to ensure you get a top race experience. On the Saturday at Southwell we had a team of 15 on site from 10am to get the event site set-up. If you have a look at the short time lapse video on our facebook page you will see the rugby club field change from a rugby pitch to a triathlon race venue. We left the venue at 17:30 Saturday evening, leaving overnight security on site to make sure everything is ready and waiting for our return to the venue prior to 0600 Sunday morning. Our dedicated and committed Cadet group arrived onsite at 1800 to camp overnight and were well catered for by Southwell Rugby Club who kept them fed and watered before calling it a day.

Race Day: after the final preparations are implemented and the course is signed off and ready to go, that’s when we have to be ready to react to anything to ensure the event looks like a swan gliding along a river – serene and calm on top, legs going like the clappers to keep moving forwards. This is where problem solving and fire fighting skills come to the fore to ensure the event continues smoothly. This ranges from ensuring all competitors have somewhere to park, to your welfare should you have an accident whilst on the course.

This is where our race crew are outstanding, their ability to spot problems before they arise and communicate them to us to implement a solution to enable them to keep you safe and the event flowing.

It may seem to the untrained eye that my job out on the bike course in the event van constitutes sitting on my arse, keeping warm (which was clearly the place to be on Sunday) is an easy job! Being a cheerleader and a coiled spring to kick into action at any time to respond to anything that happens out on the highway is sometimes boring, and sometimes I’m dashing around like a man possessed to ensure you’re all taken care of out on the road. Expertly assisted by our awesome Moto Ref’s who aren’t just there to stop you naughty people drafting, they are there as extra eyes and ears to help keep you safe on the road. Reacting quickly to collect stranded people was high on the priority list on Sunday given the cool conditions. From collecting stranded cyclists and finding a cyclist who crashed (who did get back up and carry on) it’s not always easy to find you. Thanks this week have to go to the athlete that told me of a cyclist that had crashed, without his communication we would have not been able to locate the athlete concerned and then deploy the medical team to the appropriate location to administer appropriate treatment.

Post Race: So once you’ve all finished, packed your kit away travelled home, showered and snuggled up to recover on the sofa nice and warm our team of volunteers are on site packing away the kit and tidying up after you’ve all long gone. Pack up done we left Southwell Rugby Club at around 1630 to travel home / back to the office to drop off the vans at the office.

 So the next time you’re at an event make sure you smile, and say thanks to the volunteers as without them your event experience wouldn’t be the same without them!

 So here we are on Tuesday and the final van is being emptied and kit being sorted ready to do it all over again for the David Lloyd Lincoln Sprint Tri on the 3^rd May.

 

Steve Paley : The only Triathlete ever to survive a swim section Swan Attack.

 

Thanks Steve. I hope you all enjoyed that. And thank you again for reading. I have another juicy addition to the blog lined up, but at the risk of overloading you all I will post that later. Thanks again.

 

 

Southwell Sprint Review.

First race review of 2015 then. The Southwell Sprint Tri. Part of the 3 race Midland Sprint Series hosted by OneStepBeyond Events, they have a reputation as a professional and well run set of events, with fierce competition and a friendly atmosphere. One not to be missed to kick off the season.

I had been reliably informed on several occasions from Friday onwards that I was becoming obsessive (and annoying), only able to talk of Sundays race, and not taking heed of anything else.

By Saturday either the comments had stopped and the family had accepted the current vibe being generated in the home, or I had totally stopped listening.... besides, there was a box to pack and bike to prepare. It is always therapeutic to pack the box, finding things hidden away from the previous season. Visualising the event it came from, each part of the race, conjuring up the sights, smells and sounds. The feeling.

The kit sorted, and tea was a tasty helping of whole wheat pasta, broccoli, kale and thick slice of fresh raw tuna. Perfect.

Later I took a steady ride to my mates so he could put the bike in the car rack ready for the morning, then a run home of a few miles to warm the legs before an early night.

 

Sunday morning I woke at around 4:30am and laid talking to Sarah in bed. She seemed less enthusiastic about discussing wind factor, the fore's and against's of concrete or grass transition pits & cycling cadence than me, even after I offered her a cup of tea. Strange. By 5:15am I was up and dressing, lots of layers on as it was cold out with a northerly wind that looked settled in for the day already. Downstairs the dogs didn't seem amused to see me either, and neither of them was about to move from their bed. A big bowl of porridge  along with a cup of tea to keep me going - I hate feeling full on a race, way better to feel empty I always think, but it was 7hrs until I began so it was important to get some energy in me.

After that there was time for the early morning pre race poo. It probably seems un-necessary to mention that to anyone who doesn't compete, but race day nerves, and the body building in anticipation of the event always results in a series of monster pre race logs that are as much part of the whole triathlon experience as the swim the bike or the run.

6am. Picked up by fellow Louth Triathlete Oli, and his soon to be wife Lucy. We were both racing nearer to 12pm than 11am, but Oli had friends setting off early to cheer, and I had roped my Dad into his first ever Triathlon back at Christmas. With an 08:10am start time for him I wanted to be there to cheer him on.

By just after 7 we were registered and setting up. Plenty of the club were already on site and the ever growing sea of yellow hoodies was present in abundance. Dumping the bike in the rack I found time for a round of hellos from the multitude of friendly familiar faces all coming out of hibernation to begin their 2015 season. Some with sparkly new kit, some with the look of determination on their faces that suggested they had spent the winter training hard for this first race of the series and the stress was starting to show.

 

It was a pleasant change not to have the bother of this being an A race. I could enjoy the atmosphere and take in the joy of racing for the sake of it. We went and set Martin Ball (Snr) off, and he held a good even pace through the swim and out on to the bike. Checking out his set up it made me smile to see where the Working Class Triathlete ethos has maybe at least in part come from when I spotted a Tommy Tippy baby cup stuffed in his bottle holder. 'It does the job'.

The Tommy Tippy School of Nutrition.

 

 First Time Tri at 65. Exiting the Swim.

Once he was out I went back to my station and began rigging up the shoes to the bike, a last minute spray of WD40 where necessary, picking the tyres clean of any spots of grass, mud and debris, and then 1/2hr stood repeating my transition routine on a loop.

Transition is the one place you can get free seconds for no effort, and going over and over it to imprint it in my brain like a muscle memory really helps. It's time well spent being constructive while you wait. Satisfied it wouldn't rain I spread out my towel, talcum powdered the bike shoes, and spend time carefully rigging them to bands to hold them in place ready for the run out of T1 for a quick mount. Repeating the 'Bike, Belt, Helmet, GO' Mantra, practicing, visualising, encouraging people to talk to me and distract me while I do it, to make it more realistic. Another quick break to cheer in and out fellow club members, including my sister in law who was aiming for an AG win, and who massively improved her bike with an 18.5mph average.

 

During this time I had a bit of a run in with a supposed Race Official who got it in his head that my tri belt and attached number was somehow in fact 'A Device' used to deliberately mark out my spot & give me unfair advantage (words he took great glee in repeating as he fingered the print on his stupid laminated rules sheet while telling me).

My number was apparently somehow helping me unfairly mark out my transition spot. Of course my own bike, the towel on the floor, my trainers and my helmet on my tri bars were in no way helping me spot where I racked my bike. This bloke seemed 100% convinced you're not allowed to know where you are stationed. When I suggested we gouge my eyes out as I enter T1 to make it properly fair things deteriorated. The nail in the coffin came when he then ignored a bloke 2 down from me who had racked his bike the wrong way round. He found the time to chat with him and eventually agree that it didn't really matter. When it comes to which way your bike points on a busy rack - no worries mate. The biggest test of the day was tolerating this absolute moron who clearly had no understanding of the sport, but for some reason was policing the pit.

Fortunately rather than setting fire to him, I took a breath and went and found the race referee proper, the sun shined, and it became clear she has a brain in her head, moved the lads bike into the correct position and told me my number belt was fine.

Attention turned back to the race. At 10am I had another small pot of porridge, and a half a pint of Ball Juice freshly squeezed the day before.



Race day juice stock (pre squeezed)

 

I took a bit more than the usual care over nutrition the day before (and that morning) because I had decided to do away with any fluid for the whole race. The bottle was extra weight and wind resistence I could do without over this short distance. 

 

5 minutes out to cheer in my Dad, and a chat with him and others around confirmed the wind was pretty chilly and with some decent gusts in it on the way back. That and a few short steep climbs to take the pace out the wheels stood to make it a more difficult bike. I wasn't feeling confident on it anyway, I haven't spent any time adding in pace at this stage so it stood to be an unknown. At least I knew to expect to be cold as I entered T2 and could prepare for it mentally.

 

I went back to the box and wrote last years times on my hand, and some marker times for where I expected to be at certain points on the course. That is a quick easy reference for me to help decide where to spend some extra energy if necessary. No need for a satellite or signal, just a good old fashioned stop watch on my wrist and some target times on the back of my hand. I stripped off to my suit and went poolside to keep warm. Watching a couple of team mates I enjoyed seeing them both bag a 400 pb swim time before exiting and clearing off. A great swim from both Oli and Glenn.

I spent the next 15 minutes trying to visualise each stage of the race, and stretching off ready to begin. Time to focus.

 

Soon enough I was in the water and the count down began. Starting the watch as I pushed off - I was into the swim. The first 100 felt comfortable and good. Spotting the other blue hats in my wave across the pool I could see I was heading the wave, and this lead continued to increase throughout.

 

I had submitted a 5:45 400m time for my wave start, and figured if I was leading it out and was with others on the same time it must be going well. I struggled with the turns because at 100m the left eye filled with water following a brush with another swimmer. After that it was hard to focus and spot the wall properly and in honesty the push offs were weak. I glanced at the watch at the final 25 and it already registered 5:55. That couldnt be right? Had I done too many? I exited on 6:14 and was gutted with an abysmal swim time. Properly embarrassed at myself, but no point worriyng now, just had to make it up.

As I exited I lobbed the hat toward the bucket and was pleased to see it go in. Shame that a slam dunk on the hat didn't win you a 10 second bonus. Running into T1, straight to my station, the belt whistled round my waist without issue, helmet on and out in 33 seconds. Pleased with that.

 

Over the mount line and onto the concrete I went to the saddle and the right laccy band snapped prematurely. The shoe rotated and faced the floor. I had been here before, and trying to keep pedalling last time brought me off. On that basis I stopped, shoved my foot in, and got going again. Another few seconds lost. Arrrggghhh...

 

Once on the main road the ride opens out into a climb, but soon enough I had settled into the bike, and after a few early climbs was steaming down the other side. I had been unsure of what kind of bike time I would bag, but it felt good enough once I had got into the rhythm. Checking the watch everything was about right.

The route is a simple out and back, hills in the first quarter, levelling out before a flat decent bit of tarmac to a roundabout, right round and then up the hills again before the end. The roundabout required a pause to let traffic through for around 6 seconds that felt like forever.

Getting my head down and my back flat I made the most of the straight. I passed a few athletes, but otherwise had a lonely ride for such a short circuit. A friend was in the last wave of the day, 12 minutes after me, and also in my age group. His run time has come on bucket loads over winter and with a good bike he stood to beat me with ease. Taking my time from the round about back in I knew that if we didn't cross for 6 minutes then he hadn't gained ground. We passed at around 5:45, but 15 seconds was OK given how much quicker a swimmer he is, and it spurred me to get my head down for home.

On the return leg it was good to see a few of the others in my wave still heading out, and as we passed it spurred me again to push harder and maximise the damage. All in all the bike was a solitary affair with very few competitors to chase down or hold off, and I wasn't passed once. Burning the legs up the hills and finally shooting back into T2. Bike done on a 22.3mph average. Given the wind and the short sharp climbs I was happy enough, although it was just a bit slower than last years effort.

 

In and out of T2 in 34 seconds, and out to the run.

 

As I exited I was hit by a wall of cheers and support from the club, from family, and friends. It's a great boost and spurs you on to dig a bit deeper while the muscles are throbbing to adapt to the new demands.

In testimony to the great atmosphere and camaraderie of the club here is a link to a bit of video that the club Chairman took of me coming into T2. The cow bells and cheers and the mass of yellow hoodies in the background are all Club members giving their all, having received their cheers earlier in the day. It is brilliant to think that we can all be bothered to get there early to support and stay when we are tired and ready for home to encourage other team members in. I also have to make a special mention to the Kyle and Lee on the microphones for their cracking summaries of me as I exited T2, including, if you listen carefully at the end of the video - a mention for this blog from Kyle, and Lee's description of me as the biggest lightweight he knows at the end. Thanks guys.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/504527096258682/permalink/983730321671688/?comment_id=983746068336780&offset=0&total_comments=1&notif_t=group_comment_mention

If you can't view it from the link then I encourage you to look up Louth Tri Club on FaceBook for a great set of photos and video of the day.
 

The run is a simple 2 loop climb up a decent incline, back down and round. The climb soon settled the legs and once I had my stride it was good to be around a lot more athletes, and fun picking the next target in front and reeling them in. Half way up the first climb I had settled in and as it levelled out I could feel the pace increase with every stride.

Along the springtime hedgerows, time to glance the top of the Cathedral in the distance, the wind felt  refreshing at that point, then round the cone and back. As the down hill approached I let the legs open, like depressing the clutch and free wheeling at top speed down to the bottom. Into the main area for a U turn, and again a barrage of cheers and encouragement. Tingles of appreciation as you motor past, properly motivating stuff. Back up the hill, round the cone again. At this point I glanced at my watch and checked the time against the scribble on the back of my hand. I was a good few minutes ahead of last years times. That was all I wanted. I was free to open the throttle now and dump every last drop of energy on the final sprint for home. The run had felt comfortable and good. Back down into the crowds, round the bend and the sprint for the line. The run was a pb at 16:57.

                                   Head down, sprinting the finish chute for home.
 

 Job done in a total of 54:41. All that fuss for less than an hour! Overall I had come 16th, and I'd taken a win for my Age Group in round 1 of the Midland Sprint Series. A good set up for round 2 in a few weeks. Even more of a result because it wasn't planned for. Now I just have to remember to keep focus on the 70.3 in a month, and not get distracted by the next sprint. Reminder to self. These are for fun (this year).

It dawned on me after laid on the sofa relaxing, watching the MotoGP, that the muscles that hurt the most were my cheeks from smiling all day.
 



 



Post race Team photo.

 

Finally, and catching up on what I said in my last post. I am now at 95'500 views on my blog. The 100'000th view is just around the corner and the special guest blogger is primed ready to write. So thank you again for supporting this rambling, and please keep reading for what promises to be a unique insight into the sport when we pass that magic number.

 

 

 

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