The swim: the only swim this year I actually did in my wetsuit. I felt terribly sick, probably because I'd tried to eat too close to the start of the swim. I wanted to stop so many times and hang on to a kayak but I ploughed on. I made the turn at the purple buoy and ended up turning towards the wrong yellow buoy 😖. Luckily a nice kayaker steered me in the right direction. I was very slow.
The bike
It was initially very cold, and I did regret not bringing my jacket. My bottle said "Do it for cider and cake" well, I added "and a hot bath" as another carrot/temptation to keep me going. There was a dead dear on the side of the road which I discovered later had caused an issue that morning, but they'd managed to drag it out of the road. We went past an airplane graveyard, then there was the aid station. So I only discovered the night before that the aid station was about a third of the way through the lap and not at the end of the lap. I'd discussed good and bad decisions with my coach and felt it was a good decision to stop for water and a quick stretch. About half way round my first lap I realised I couldn't change up at the front, which was a bit of an issue on a flat course where I just wanted to put the power down (well as much power as I had anyway!). I tried to figure out whether this was a situation where I should stop at the mechanic or not, and decided in favour of stopping just in case he could help. Well, thankfully he could, and 10 minutes later I was back on the road with a fully functioning big ring. Made it round the first lap, and onto the quieter second lap, back past the dead deer, the airplane graveyard and the aid station. Once on my way from the aid station, the front derailleur wire then decided to ping out of its little home and was hitting my leg on every pedal. The photographer was just ahead of me so I couldn't stop so I went past him attempting to smile and then stopped just beyond his car. He checked on me but I was fine, and managed to get the stupid wire back in it's holder for the rest of the ride. It had got hot by the time I finished my ride and I no longer wanted a hot bath!
The run
I'd had issues (pain when walking) with my left calf for a week or so before the race, and no matter of rolling/putting it up etc had helped. Neither had driving from London to the Cotswolds. On the ride I'd taken some paracetamol, which kinda dulled it a bit. The first lap is always about trying to keep out the way of the faster runners, finding out what goodies are available at the aid stations and this time around, regretting I hadn't brought my hydration pack with me because it was hot. The second lap was absolute AGONY. My calf went and I could barely walk, let alone run. Thankfully it started to drizzle a bit so it wasn't so hot. I went past Ian, who was (mid race) deep in discussion with some divers, remarking "Aren't you supposed to be running?". He caught me up at the aid station and decided to stick with me for the remainder of that lap. Thank you, Ian. My 4 hours was up on the paracetamol so I took some more and ventured out on the last lonely lap. I was determined to finish this stupid race. Most of the marshals had gone and it felt like it was just me out on the path. About a third of the way round Simon caught up with me. I asked if that meant I was last and he confirmed I was. Fun fact, Simon is the husband of Helen, who ran with me on my first ever Cotswolds race, and (Helen) had finished several hours earlier. He can talk the back end off a donkey, let me tell you. I was so grateful to him for getting me round that final lap and back to the finish. Graham, the race director, who I'm sure rolls his eyes every time I turn up, came down the finish chute with me.
I discovered post-race that someone started before me (we started in waves) and, although they finished before me, was actually slower so I didn't actually come last!
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