First ever Triathlon (and so far, the last!!)

First ever Triathlon (and so far, the last!!)

Everyone has a time in their life when they feel at their fittest and strongest, physically and mentally. Mine was 2013.

I haven’t felt that strong since, partly due to a nasty bike accident, oh and having a baby. Now, I have never been one for blaming things on ‘‘having a baby’ and the whole ‘baby brain’ – I’ve always been a bit ditsy so I definitely can’t use that excuse. But physically, I’m not where I was before I had Jude. Nothing to do with my weight, in fact, I lost a lot of weight quickly after the birth thanks to breast-feeding – it resulted in a serious diet of biscuits and doughnuts, it was absolutely fricking amazing.  I just never got back that oomph, the feeling of always wanting to better my times, and to push myself to the limit…It nearly came back earlier this year in the summer, around the time when I finally completed my first century ride, but then the winter months crept in, and the oomph has gone again…

In 2013, I was a keen and strong cyclist and runner, and a keen and absolutely god damn awful swimmer. That summer I took part, and only just, completed the Portsmouth Triathlon, although I must admit it was the sprint version for the first one.

I trained seriously and frequently with my close friend, Rachael, another fitness bunny. I’m not sure how she found the time to train, between work and raising a small toddler – she’s always been a true inspiration to me…

So the day arrived, we met at the venue, our bikes hanging silently on the metal racking, my little bike floating in the air as the wheel didn’t touch the ground – I felt small and intimidated. We looked in awe at the professionals with those really fast looking bikes (the ones that make that swooshing noise as they cruise along) and those silly alien looking helmets, do they really make that much difference on your times? I’m afraid fashion would have to come first for me….

We went to the waters edge to check the sea conditions, and we were relieved to see the calmest waters ever seen in the Solent – phew! swimming has always been my weakness, my swimming technique is my own, a funny front crawl mixed with doggy paddle – I resemble a spider that has fallen in the sink or bath – barely staying afloat and scrambling at the waters edge desperately trying to seek dry land.

*Bang*  there it was, the starting gun, even the *run* to the sea was a pathetic attempt, I grimaced and swore all the way down on the stones – wondering how on earth everyone was running on the stones like they were rose petals. Already I was at the back of my wave and I was pissed off and scared.. and so it continued for a whole shitty 45 mins. Rachael was well ahead – I lost sight of her yellow hat at the first marker, and very quickly I lost sight of everyone else. It turned out the sea was calm but the current was fierce – I can only describe it like swimming on a conveyor belt, I daren’t stop for a second to catch my breath as you quickly got carried off the course. Every now and again I would look up to see if the ice-cream van parked in the distance was getting any nearer, I could murder a 99, but it didn’t. At one point, I noticed the ambulance boat pulling out a swimmer who was in trouble, gulp, there went my confidence and another mouthful of sea water.

45 minutes later, YES, 45 minutes of swimming flat out, I finally made it out and nearly passed out. I could vaguely make out the profiles of friends and family who had come to cheer me on, shit how embarrassing. Rachael was well ahead, I was on my own. I got on my trusty bike, and that feeling of being safe and in control settled in, giving me a burst of adrenaline and hope that I had left sinking in the Solent. Still completely puffed out and retching from the salt water I got my head down and cycled.. I was sure I had seen Rachael on the second lap… I was making time up…

Half an hour later I was back in the transition zone, for the final part, running. With my quickest transition time of under 1 min, and friends and family cheering me along, I started to run (badly) along the seafront. I could see Rachael’s profile vaguely in the distance, she looked strong and determined, I felt utterly weak and broken. I needed to be with her, I picked up the pace and held my head high, and gradually over the course of 2 miles I caught up with her as we passed through Old Portsmouth and its cobbles. It was the best feeling ever, we had done all the training together and now we would finish on the line together, we held hands as we crossed.

It was one of my best (and worst) days of my life. a day where I wished the ambulance boat would hook me out like a duck at the fairground, or a whale would swallow me up and shoot me back onto shore through its breathing hole (my imagination runs crazy when oxygen gets low), but I was so happy to have done it. I even vowed I would do it again, but the Olympic version, after some essential swimming lessons of course.. perhaps not the words of a ‘triathlete’  !

Fast forward 2 years and I haven’t done another one. Why? I’ve had a baby god damn, give me a break! (now I’m using that baby excuse!!) Frankly, I need to get my butt in gear and sign up for one, and let that panic training follow… perhaps I will stick to a pool based triathlon for now –  then I can take the baby’s armbands and floats? any suggestions of a nice pool or lake based triathlon are welcomed.. Here are some pics to prove that I did do it. The day I was a triathlete….

 

IMG_1248IMG_1244IMG_1252IMG_1270 IMG_1274 pompey tri 100a pompey tri 177a
pompey tri 217a

 

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