Emilia Romagna 70.3: Alé, alé, feeling hot, hot, hot

Last year, I turned to my coach and had a discussion about whether I could take on another Ironman 70.3. I didn't do a triathlon last year due to issues with my ankle, and I have never got a finishing time for a complete Ironman 70.3 (I've either been DNF'D or the swim was cut short). So we agreed that there was enough time to at least focus on the bike fitness to give me time to run.
Spoiler alert, work was a bit crazy. I now teach people to swim, mostly children but occasionally also adults. This year I learnt to do parent and baby classes, which meant that some weeks I spent around 20 hours in the water, of which maybe 2-3 was me actually doing swim training for the race. The only other aquabike I was supposed to do this year I had to DNS due to an upskill for work.
So I turned up to Cervia knowing I could do the swim fine, probably just get through the bike, and very unlikely to finish the run. I was VERY anxious and got very little sleep in the run up to the race.
Emilia Romagna 70.3 is slightly different to other Ironman 70.3s I have done previously. As the Ironman is run the day before, we only start at 11, with racking on the same day. So I got a later start than usual, although I hadn't slept much and was apparently on 35% body battery .
I racked my bike and made sure my food was ready broken up to eat. As I left transition, I realised I didn't have anything to snack on pre race. Damn. Thankfully, I'd packed a Trek bar in my white bag for afterwards so I ate that. I didn't see any Tritons until we went to the beach, where Ian and Ben strode past us to who knows where (race start? swim warm up?). I lined up in the slow swim pen, knowing my swim time could be anything up to 50 minutes. They got us to do the hand clap, then the male pros were off with plumes of red smoke and the ladies with plumes of green smoke. Then we waited. And waited.

Boiling waiting for the start



According to my watch, when I started the swim it was 38 degrees. I don't do well in the heat and started to suffer. We were waiting for nearly an hour to start, thankfully I didn't wear a wetsuit, but I still felt faint. Thankfully James, who'd done the Ironman the day before, was watching and I asked him if he had something to drink. I honestly think if he hadn't been there and able to give me some water, I probably wouldn't have been able to start, it was that hot. So eventually, after finding myself near the back of the start and managing to squeeze forward, drinking the much needed water, I got to the start. Hat on, watch ready, let's go. We ran into the water, which was lovely but very gently shelving so you had to run a little way to get to water you can actually swim in. The swim itself was a bit like a washing machine- some rolling waves and of course the other swimmers trying hard to smack me/swim over me! As a big person it didn't take much to repel these "attacks" and I did try to kick my legs to dissuade other swimmers. The swim itself was out, along and back. I didn't really notice when we turned right, although I was pretty sure the person in front of me was doing backstroke... I did see a couple of jellyfish, but they were pretty far down. The way out was hard work so when we turned around to come back, it was better with the waves bringing us in. I'm pretty sure something went through my hands on the way back- bits of jellyfish? Thankfully I wasn't stung. The end of the swim was just as gently shelving so it was tricky to judge when to stand up. I glanced at my watch as I attempted to run in - 45 minutes, much faster than any swims this year, so I was happy with that. Past the showers, attempting to get sand off our feet, a gulp of crisp water (amazing after attempting not to drink seawater). Transition was huge (allegedly the biggest in Europe!), first I went past my bags and put on my cycling shorts/shoes (and drank some coke!), and then hobbled on my cleats all the way to Hotel Diplomatic, grabbed my bike, and then on to bike out, past a cheering Stuart (who I think I told to put on his hat!). On to the road! My priority for the bike was to keep drinking as much as I could. I had a bottle in front as well as a spare behind. Also I needed to eat every 15 minutes. I quickly discovered my Garmin had decided it was only going to give me visual alerts and no noise/beeps , which was annoying. The first hour I was overtaken by a lot of people, which is normal, we went past the flamingo lakes, and then onto the carretera - highway. I was briefly reminded of Hamburg and the "highway to hell". The other side of the road was the return from the race, and surprisingly early on, I saw people coming back in to Cervia. The pelotons were interesting... At 20k was a water stop so I took a moment to top up my bottle and throw fresh water all over myself. It was a great way of cooling down, and I felt energised afterwards. I'd noticed I had salt streaks on my shorts, and as I cycled on, idly wondered if that was from the swim or me sweating, or both. As we got onto the main road yet more pelotons were coming back the other way. My water bottle said "do it for cider and cake" and "you have got this". It kept me going through the relentless heat, with very little shade. I was trying to keep above 23km/h and was very aware there was a hill ahead. People did eventually stop passing me and I actually overtook a few cyclists on my way to the second aid station. Now I knew that this was just before the climb so I stopped again, refilled my bottle as much as I could, then took a bottle of electrolytes from the aid station, tossing an old bottle I'd deliberately brought to swap. Again with the water shower, two scouts were delighted to pour it over . The salt stains were definitely sweat. As I left the station, I remarked to another cyclist, "are we ready for this hill?" She replied "Don't ask, I've been dreading it". Poor woman. The climb started innocently enough, with lots cycling past on the way down. I was very glad the nice man at the bike shop had fixed my shifting so I had all gears available, and I could go into my easiest gear. Unfortunately even that wasn't low enough and as we got closer to the top it got steeper. I took one look and was very unsure I could cycle up it. Then the lady in front of me unclipped and got off. That was my sign to do the same… The walk up the hill was tough. It was still super hot, and I went past a cyclist sitting on the side looking sorry for himself. We went past some marshalls, telling us we didn't have far to go ("400m to the top!"). When it seemed to be levelling out a bit I tried to get back on, only to discover I'd completely ruined my cleats and had to remove the rubber grips to click in. As I started to cycle, the lid from my electrolyte bottle came off. I had to stop to retrieve it and attempted to screw it back on. So I ended up walking to the top, where much to my relief I could get back on and whizz back down the hill. Now I'm not great with descents but this one was fine. I didn't see anyone on the way back so I'm guessing everyone who was on the bike had got on to the climb.
Once the lovely descent was finished, the grind to the end started. Still hot. Still trying to eat every 15 minutes. Still chasing Adam, who seemed to have a predilection for sitting in the middle of the road. Past Sally, from Sheffield tri, not in the middle of the road. Feet were burning, again. I tried to move them around and that helped a bit. I ran out of fluids on the front so I had to stop to refill. This at least gave me an excuse to shake my feet and ease the burn a bit. I was trying to keep myself going to the next aid station. I knew it was along the highway somewhere, then finally there it was, time to refill again and give myself a water shower. Not sure my bike appreciated all this water going over it but it had to be done. Now onto the finish. I'd spent some time deciding I wouldn't do the run, then changing my mind and deciding if I had the opportunity I would give it a go. The miles rolled on, my feet were properly burning so when I ran out of fluids I again stopped at the side, shook my feet and refilled. Right, let's finish this bike, look there's the flamingoes again, you are leaving (the aptly named) Villa Inferno, and finally back into Cervia. Stuart was there to cheer me in, and the minute my bike was reracked (with a bit of reshuffle because others hadn't racked well), my shoes were off - oh bliss!
Stuart told me I was doing really well, and still had time to run. I told him there was no way I could finish the half marathon in 3 hours, but he said "you never know ". I did know, and tried to tell him my last half marathon had taken 4 hours...


Ian and I high 5 on the run

On to the run, and thankfully it was starting to cool. My watch was still set up for 2min run/30s walk and I soon started to follow this. I hadn't really studied run map much, only to establish it was flat. I knew there was an aid station every 2-3 km. I walked each one, throwing water over myself and grabbing iso/coke when I could. Sally came past me, saying I was strong on the bike, and to keep going on the run. I tried to dissuade her that my run was terrible, but she said hers was like a shuffle too. Every time I saw Sally I would shout "Go Sheffield" because I'd forgotten her name but she was wearing a Sheffield tri outfit - sorry Sally! Ian, one of the Tritons, came past me complaining about his back, so eventually I offered him some of my Paracetamol - I'd stocked up before the race so I had plenty to share. He did take some and then ran off ahead of me. The run route was an interesting one round Cervia which included a roofed area, lots of restaurants with people cheering me on, and some random red curtains between the buildings over the street that looked a bit like what they have round a stage! My aim now was for two laps, one more than Knokke, and as I came around for my first lap, the Tritons were cheering me on which was lovely! I thought to myself, one more lap and then I can come in. It was starting to get dark now, and thankfully not as hot as it had been. I was wondering when they'd turn the lights on, when finally they did. Back out via the co-op, past the weird curtains, over the bridge and far away... Then finally coming back, one of the marshals telling me to "alé". To be honest I was surprised there wasn't someone behind me with a big "last finisher" flag. Maybe there were others slower, I have no idea. At that point, I started to choke on the peanut bar I'd just been trying to eat to give me a bit of energy. Thankfully a bit of coughing dislodged it, but I was left with a sick feeling. I was very tired now, and knew I probably didn't have another lap in me even if I had the time for it. Spoiler alert, I did not have the time for it. As I came back into town, Scott joined me. He started to run/walk along side me. I was amazed given he'd done the Ironman the day before! I was a bit worried I'd get DQ'd for outside assistance then remembered I was going to come in anyway. They were all still convinced I could do another lap. I was adamant I was coming in. As it was, as I came around the final turn, there was a row of cones stopping me even if I'd wanted to. Looking at my run times, it would have taken me at least another hour to finish the run and I was already on 7 hours and 43 minutes. I was so happy to go down the finishing chute, and finally get to stop running. I discovered afterwards that was my fastest 10k this year - although it didn't have much competition given my last 10k was my only 10k run this year, haha 😂.



Finished!

So some thanks as always, to Stuart for following me around and trying his very best to reduce my anxiety. Tracy my coach for doing her level best to get me moving and fit enough to do stupid things. All the Tritons who came to the race, especially James for saving me when I was overheating and Scott for doing the last bit of the run for me, and of course Ian for being... well Ian 😂. Thanks to Victoria for sharing your photos which I have used in this blog, and Marc for the last image.

Great North Run - out of 10 you're a 13.1

 So if you know me I have been having an issue with my ankle now for a year and a half. This was caused by sinus tarsi. Last November I also managed to trip over my own front door, which made my ankle blow up and I injured my peroneal tendon. D'oh. So this year has been mostly one of rehab and physio visits. In May, I started work as a swimming teacher which is very active and involves a lot of walking, and I think that has really contributed towards the rehab process. I hesitate to say healing as I'm sure it's still there, I live in hope I'll be able to wear nice shoes again one day (shoes that have any kind of arch support seem to be trainers or very solid sandals...). Due to this, I had done very little training for the Great North Run, for a long while I was considering just deferring to next year. However, we'd booked the tickets, I'd done a four hour walk that was zero fun in training (!), so off we went to Newcastle.

Just a note that there is going to be a bit of moaning here about the transport to and from the event. We had to leave just after 8 to catch a bus to Newcastle, as they only run every hour from where we were staying in Blyth. Yes, we probably could have caught the 9:20 bus, but that might have been cancelled/full, and wasn't worth the risk. Thankfully, the bus we caught ran on time and took us nicely all the way to Haymarket where the start was. The toilet situation wasn't great either. Big queues on Town Moor, and then zero toilet options once we were on our way to the start/in the pens. There were a lot of people using the bushes, which isn't good. There was a lot of walking to the start - I looked at my watch and by the time I had threaded my way to the start I had already done 6000 steps! There were some amazing outfits though - I saw two people dressed as ovaries and a couple of women with breasts on their backs were on the TV - complete with squeaking nipples 😂. We saw the Red Arrows speeding over which was amazing and weirdly emotional, not helped by some poor bloke on the TV who had just lost his parent recently...

We had to walk past the start, then about another couple of km to the end of the queues waiting to start, then back to the start again...

So after leaving Stuart at 10:45, I finally started the Great North Run at 12:34. It was very busy to start with, I'd chosen the "left" side, where you go under the bridge, which started off a whole round of "oggy oggy oggy"... There was even someone with a sign saying "You're (kinda) nearly there"! within the first km! This was the first lie of the run... It was super busy, and I was trying my best to do my slow run/walk on the left as instructed, but yet I still had people barging past me or running on the pavement next to me to get past, it was pretty annoying! We went over the Tyne Bridge, which was epic, even if it does look like it needs a bit of paint closer up. Then we were running through Gateshead. Pretty soon I had to "go", as it had been several hours of waiting to start. There was a queue at the first row of portaloos I went past, so I decided to keep going to the next one. Unfortunately at the next one, there was only one loo available so I had to wait around 12 minutes, which really ate into my run time! Annoyingly probably about another 10 minutes down the road was a whole row of portaloos with no queue! At least stopping meant the road cleared a bit and it wasn't so busy on the road. At the aid station I had a bottle of water thrust into my hand, like I had to take it! The crowds were epic, everyone was offering me sweets, to the point where I had a few too many jelly babies and felt a bit sick! There was a bridge that said "Cheer if you're having fun" and I realised, I was actually having fun for a change!

Probably at about mile 7 - half way - the wheels started to come off. We were "running" down a dual carriageway with very little support (apart from the odd driver honking their horn on the other side of the road). I got out the bottle of coke I'd placed in my running vest for this situation, which was definitely a good idea. We went past this drag act who looked fabulous and as I shuffled past them I said "you're almost as tall as me" which they replied "I love that!". I have no idea why I said that to them!

Every day I'm shuffling - just after the half way point, you can see the bottle of coke in one of my pockets...

I was overtaking and being overtaken by a guy called David, who had a "in memory of" T-shirt on, he asked me how I was doing at one point and I said "feeling the chafe". I think that put him off chatting to me again (!), sorry David. I hadn't put any lube on my thighs - error on my part, given I was wearing shorts. I wanted to go ask the St Johns Ambulance people if they had any Vaseline, but was worried if I stopped I would never finish the race. So I kept on going. The final gradual climb was long and painful. I was mostly walking by this stage, as my legs were protesting. I had someone come up to me and ask if I wanted to chat. I didn't really, but I was polite... It had started to rain and there were some massive sprinklers on the road, ones that you couldn't avoid, so while we were trying to deal with rain from above I was also trying to go to the furthest side away from the sprinklers! I missed the free beer near the end, but I wouldn't have wanted a can of lager anyway - yuk! Finally the top of the hill came into view, I asked someone if that was actually the top or if it was a false summit, thankfully it was the top and then there was an interesting downhill and you could see the sea! Yay! The final mile was a painful affair but I was happy I was nearly there and it was flat! Everything was sore, especially my hip for some reason. We were directed off the road on to the grass and there was the finish line! I'd finished in under 4 hours!

Absolutely finished

I would include here a massive moan about how terrible it was to try and get home through the crowds, or how my poor body completely crashed post-event and I ended up passing out trying to exit the train at Newcastle Central, but instead I will leave with a thank you to Stuart for his support, sorry but I'm sure I'll be doing another half marathon again, but next time with a bit more training! Also a thank you to my mother in law Lillian for putting us up as always. Plus thank you to Coach T for her support despite the lack of training...

Belgium 70.3: Off, off, off with your head; Dance, dance, dance til you're dead

 I know I've been quiet on here this year. I did Ride London again, but my race report for that was essentially "sheer bloody agony. Agony. Agony. I think I broke my foot." Side note, I did not break my foot or have a stress fracture, I have this very annoying thing called sinus tarsi syndrome, which causes a tiny swelling but a LOT of pain and has essentially made me unable to do any running this year beyond 5k. I ended up doing two aquabikes in the summer, the Bridge sprint (where I came third!) and Midnightman half, where I came first and last in the aquabike 😂.

Anyway, on to Belgium. I'd spent most of the week before with massive anxiety. I was worried about the race as well as driving on the other side of the road, as I'd not done it in my car before. This caused me to sleep badly and my HRV was very low (this apparently is not good). It didn't help that my gear cable snapped on Sunday before the race, causing me to get a train home, which was annoying. Luckily Ben from Pink Cycles was able to fit a new cable and instructions to be more careful with putting the bike in the car, where the cable was rubbing. Bob the bike had a pillow to rest on as a result on its way to and from Belgium 😂. The drive in the end was fine, apart from the driving rain and the lorries spraying water, which was horrid.

We racked our bikes on the Saturday, and there were a couple of loud bangs from other tyres, so we decided to let our tyres down a bit. Transition was split, so we checked the swim, which had this massive fountain which I hoped would be turned off the next day. Then we got on the bus to T2. We spent a bit more time there, checking out the bike in and where we would rack our bikes, before I walked back into town with Martin. The night rolled by with thunderstorms and more terrible sleep for me. 

Sunday morning started fresh and clear. I walked to the casino to catch the bus. A few Tritons joined me and we travelled to T1. Once there, I sorted my bottles and actually remembered to break up my food into my bento box. I checked out the bike exit and then stood in a very slow portaloo queue. We then stood for a long time in our swim pens waiting for the start. 

Swim: Bun fight plus weeds

We were set off four at a time off a pontoon. I dived off, my goggles did dislodge a bit so I had to quickly remove the water. For some reason I found the racing line which meant that people behind me that were faster kept trying to swim over me. It was absolute carnage. I ended up kicking more than I normally would to stop people from trying to swim over me. It did get a bit better once we got round the corner, but that was when the weeds started. Every arm seemed to gather weeds as I tried hard to swim straight (I actually think the course was slightly wonky because I kept finding myself almost in the middle rope!). It seemed forever to get to the turning with the fountain, which they hadn't turned off... Round the corner and another turn back to the fountain. We had to swim under this huge plume of water, which I wasn't able to breathe in... The exit was ahead, I got out and then we had to go over a bridge to get to transition. 

Transition was busy, but I couldn't see any Tritons, so I tried to quickly get my wetsuit off and my bike gear on. I'd tried to put some kinesiology tape round my ankle to support it, but unfortunately all the kicking must have loosened it, and I just had to take it off. I just got new cycling shoes and found they were almost impossible to run in without causing myself an injury. When I got to the bike, it was the only one left so I assumed that all the other Tritons were out on the bike course. We had to exit via cobbles which was not fun with my bike shoes, but after 10 minutes of faffing (still in the Gary Shaw school for transition, clearly) I finally got to the mount line and on my bike.

Bike: Off, off, off with your head; Dance, dance dance til you're dead

So I had a bike fit just over a week before this event, and I hadn't really biked much since then. I was more comfortable on the bike than I had been for a while, but I was felt much slower than everyone else, as people kept coming past me and the only people I overtook were an old couple on their bikes (not in the race)! The wind was a major factor. It was just relentless. You can see on my ride track how much faster I was in one direction vs going the other way. Unfortunately for me the slower way seemed to be most of the route 😔. It was flat flat, so I was pedalling all the way, with the odd stand up out of the pedals to stretch. At least with the bike fit I was much more comfortable on my saddle, however my hands did get sore after a while and I spent a bit of time trying to shake them off. The ride was mostly on side roads and bike paths, which was really interesting and made me a bit jealous of their great cycling infrastructure. The first aid station came up really quickly, so I refilled my water bottle, had a quick stretch and off I went again. I think this is when I started to be buffeted by the wind the most. I am like a sail in the wind, as due to stupid balance issues I can't get on to the drops and I definitely do not have aero bars... Peter came past me, saying "see you on the run", I was thinking "I'm not sure I'll make it to the run"! I was very impressed he was riding still with his pannier rack on the back, making it look easy! Stephen came past me, then slowed down, so I overtook him, he overtook me, then he had to stop to stretch while I navigated past some cobbles (thankfully there weren't many of these on the course!). I was so glad he'd managed to get through the swim and onto the bike. Finally he cycled off into the distance while I kept pootling on. My ankle started to hurt, and it was nearly time to take my second dose of paracetamol. I stopped briefly to do that, then carried on my way. Leyla came past me, so there were Tritons behind me, I just didn't realise it. Finally I got to the second aid station, more topping up my water bottle and stretching. I shook my head at the helper and complained about the wind, but he said "it's just going to continue". Thanks mate. 

Garmin track of my bike leg. You can clearly see one way is faster than the other!

In the final section, my burning feet returned. I was really hoping the bike fit would help this and stop it, but apparently not. I had to try and take my feet out of the pedals and give them a shake to try and lessen the pain, it was awful. The right foot didn't want to come out at all, but finally it did and I gave it a shake. I was determined not to stop again until I got to the final aid station. Once there, I tried to shake everything out as well as filling up my water bottle for the final time. I did find a bit of speed for the last few km (thanks wind) and FINALLY the dismount line came into view. The "bike in" was past a weird grassed kids' playing area, after that I dropped my bike off and started hobbling towards the bags. Someone asked me if I was OK and a medic was dispatched to help me. She gave me an ice pack after I explained the stupid ankle issue and asked me if I really wanted to go out on the run. I said I had to try. So I put my trainers on, had my customary T2 wee (but this time without any drama) and I was off on the run.

The run: a step too far?

Out of transition and it was very warm. The sun had come out and it was hard work through the park to the run on the promenade. I saw Stuart for the first time, he looked a bit cross (apparently he was worried because I'd taken so much time in T2, which is usually quick). I ran on onto the promenade. It was great to see lots of Tritons, and I had a lot of random people on the side of the road shouting stuff to me in Belgian... I don't speak a word so I have absolutely no idea what they were saying. I think they were trying to be encouraging, but when you have to walk because your ankle is in pain, it wasn't very helpful. My ankle felt like there were knives going into it, and I was really suffering. Every time I tried to run it hurt. I was worried I'd end up doing myself a long-term injury. I really wanted to do the full run, but accepted that I would probably have to do one lap and then DNF myself. After six months of only being able to do short walks and the occasional Parkrun, I was not prepared for a half marathon. I was in pain, it was very hot, and finally I got back to Stuart after yet more people attempting to "cheer" me on (I was not finding it helpful at all because they didn't seem to understand that I HAD to walk and didn't have much of a choice). I said to Stuart, I think I have to finish, I can't run, it feels like daggers in my foot. So I asked a helper and he said I could run down the finish line. 

I run down the finish line, not feeling elated, everyone is cheering me on, they announce my name, it feels very odd. I haven't deserved this, I don't deserve the medal they hang round my neck. It feels like cheating. Once again, the curse of the IM 70.3 has hit. I don't think I'm going to do another one for a while until I can get myself properly fit and ankle/foot issues sorted.

As always I have to thank my lovely husband Stuart, who supported me up to the race and on race day itself. Also Coach T, who has tried her hardest to coach me through jury service and stupid ankle issues. I'm sorry I didn't do the strength training you put in every week. Also to the Tritons, you bunch of social people with a triathlon problem. 

At least this was a PB 😂😂😂

No, you really don't want my legs

 I was inspired by other writers on Substack to write something. I'm sharing on here too because why the hell not?

So I'm a tall woman, 6’3, 99th percentile yadda yadda yadda. My inside leg measurement is 36 inches. Every now and then I get people coming up to me.

Example one:

“Ooh, you're really tall! Can I have some of your legs?”

Me, taken aback “Er… no”

“But I just want a little bit”

Does this person expect me to go under the knife and donate some leg to her? As an aside, it's always women.

Example two:

“I wish I had legs like yours”

Me “Er, no you don't. It's incredibly hard to find trousers that fit”

“I'm sure it's not that difficult.”

These people have not gone into a shop and tried to find extra (extra) long ladies’ trousers. This is because YOU WILL NOT FIND THEM. Next time, have a look. Nowhere.

You. Do. Not. Want. My. Legs.

They are mine. MINE.

Vignette 5: Swim Serpentine

Swim Serpentine was my final event of the season. I was supposed to do it last year, but it was cancelled due to the link between Hyde Park and the Queen's death. I deferred and all was going well until the random heatwave and the concerns over blue green algae. It seems they regularly have to wash out the lake before the event to make sure that the levels are within swimmable threshold. This year that wasn't working/helping and on Tuesday they put out a message on Facebook that they had concerns that the levels would not be safe and that they would let us know by Wednesday 17:00. No email or anything else. Wednesday 17:00 came and went and there was nothing. Eventually they did put up a message saying they still had concerns and they would let us know by Thursday 18:00. Thursday morning they finally sent out an email saying the same thing. They finally decided that the thresholds were just about within swimmable limits on Thursday evening and that the swim was a go. We had another email on Friday morning with the final tests:

I decided it was now or never, I wasn't going to defer another year. Many of my friends decided not to risk it, which was fair. 

After all my chafing last week, I was very careful to make sure I had enough on my neck. I also have a stupidly large head and they were advertising larger hats in the information tent, so I went to ask them. They didn't have any red hats so I ended up with an orange one. Best. Hat. Ever. I am going to be wearing that hat until it dies.

I was wearing skins again, the water temperature was 21 degrees, but less of the random cold spots than last time. I was desperately trying not to drink the water but it was pretty disgusting (I stank afterwards!). It was much much busier than last week and there were people everywhere - many unable it seems to swim in a straight line so would zig zag in front of you. I also had a kayaker cut right in front of me at one point! It was pretty hard to figure out where you were going with the buoys being purple (not the best colour for visibility!). Near the end I did get confused and managed to kick the bottom of the lake - got a bit too close to the shore!

When I got out, I discovered that I had green slunge all over the inside of my trisuit - gross! It absolutely stank as well, everything had to go in the wash. I looked over my Strava stats and it was telling me I'd got a 2 minute PB from last time - no way! Yes way!

On my way home my eyes went weirdly blurry and I had a runny nose. Got home to find I had red eyes with nasty yellow goo :/. Thankfully it cleared up the next day but it was very painful. I couldn't stop sneezing either so must have had some kind of allergic reaction to the water. 

Vignette 4: Dock2Dock 10km: A Bridge Too Far

 So here we were, the hottest day of the year, about to start a 10km swim. The day before they'd told us that it was (barely) wetsuit legal, as previously there was a possibility that wetsuits would not be allowed on the day. The UK had experienced the hottest September week on record, and the water temperature had risen to 23.5 degrees - wetsuits become illegal at 24.

Gary and I at the start.

I decided to go without my wetsuit, as I overheat at the best of times. I think this was the right choice, as although there was the odd cold spot most of the time the water was nice and warm. The course took us down to Ben at the LOW aid station. This seemed to take forever and the footbridge never seemed to get any closer. It was nice to see Nick too as I haven't seen him all summer. 

I barely noticed the second station until I was right on it, but this was when I first met two ladies who I then spent the rest of my swim following them. The swim past the airport also seemed to take forever, and then, back down past the university buildings and our own food station before going past the Excel... very... slowly... I had ongoing cramp in my leg which I tried to help with fluids at each stop, but I now think this was a sign of dehydration. Back down past the bridges, why did I decide to do the 10k? My neck was hurting too from my suit rubbing, despite layering on the lube. I got ahead of the two ladies on the straight towards the airport but then lost time refueling at the last aid station. Although I finished behind them, I discovered I was ahead of them on time.

Unfortunately as I got out I managed to scrape my grazed knee from my clumsy fall the week before. Now there are two things that are almost guaranteed to make me pass out, those are heat and blood (even a little bit). So when I finally got to the changing area I felt terrible. Poor Gary had to come back and check on me (thanks Gary!), but we did get to see Ian struggle through his last km before being directed out of the water.

Afterwards for a few days I suffered with very painful chafing including this bizarre one from the wristband:

I also saw this T-shirt, which pretty much summarises my experience:

Vignette 3: Cotswolds 113: I don't know but I've been told, this triathlon is getting very old

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!

Vignette 2: Bridge Sprint: putting the poo into poubelle

Note: I am translating poubelle to rubbish here. No I don't care if that's wrong. 

"I'm just waiting to be rescued, bring me back to life"

There isn't much to say about this race. It was a warm up for my A race in the Cotswolds. It was hot, and I didn't wear a wetsuit. My swim was slow. My ride was slow, there were too. many. damn. dead turns. My run, well we have a phrase for that now, it is what it is. Also slow. I was 💩. The end.

2023 Vignette 1: Ride London

 While I was swimming round Swim Serpentine this morning I decided as I'd been a bit rubbish writing up my blog this year, I'd just do a quick recap or vignette of each event I have done this year.

Ride London 2023: Regretting my life choices

Why is it that everything starts with someone suggesting we enter a stupidly long event on Whatsapp? 

Michelle and I decided we would cycle together, which I very much needed to stop myself from exiting onto the shorter route, which we sailed past (well correction Michelle sailed past and I followed her, wistfully wishing I could cut the ride short). 

I really feel this image shows how much taller/bigger I am compared to a "normal" person. This is one of the official photos which I just loved and had to have despite the £10 price tag.

The photo below is the way I felt by the time we got to the last "official" stop. We got there with 10 minutes to go before cut off time, Michelle was hoping for some food but we didn't have enough time and all the free stuff had pretty much gone, apart from some gels. I thankfully had a spare bar to share. At this time I am hot, very tired, and a long way from the finish still. Temperatures were in the high 20s and way warmer than we expected.

On our way back to town we managed to find somewhere that at least had some coke which revived us and I managed to resist turning for home at the Canning Town turnaround. There might have been a stop or two to ease very painful burning feet. We finally got to London Bridge about 15 minutes after the 6pm cut off but we still got our medals 😀

Cascais 70.3: Don't Dream It's Over

So a little bit of a back story on Ironman branded 70.3s that I have done previously. Edinburgh 70.3 2017: swim cut short due to water temperature. Barcelona 70.3 2018: cut off at the first bike point due to being rubbish at hills. Weymouth 70.3 2018: swim cut short due to bad weather. So I've never finished a complete Ironman branded 70.3. Was Cascais to be my first? 

The day was due to be sunny but mild. We had some confusion over where our "street wear" bags should go which meant we had to walk back up the hill to registration, which was annoying! We then went to the start on the beach, where I positioned myself in the 45 minute wave, even though I thought my swim would take 50 minutes. There were a bunch of Tritons in that wave and Alan said I looked like I was going to be sick - I think I was super nervous! The announcer was giving a rousing speech about how great we were going to be which wasn't really helping. Finally the pros started with the ring of a bell and we were let through in waves. No beeps, just someone sending us through 6 at a time. 

I ran into the sea and dived into the waves as I'd practiced the day before and started to swim. I couldn't see anything as I'd not been able to rinse my goggles before, so had to spend a few seconds rinsing them out while treading water so I could see something. It made a big difference, although because of where the sun was and the hundreds of people in front of me it was really hard to sight or know where we were going. I just followed the crowd in front of me, which I know is bad but I didn't really have a choice. I'd forgotten quite how much I hated the washing machine effect of mass swims - although it wasn't a mass start there were so many people in the water it felt like it. We got to the first turn point and my hat started to feel like it was slipping. Unfortunately, I have a very large head and most swim caps don't really fit me especially if they are cheap, which sadly the Ironman caps have become. I tried a couple of times to pull it back over my head, because the rules clearly stated you had to wear the cap at all times, then I pulled it down so forcefully I knocked my goggles off! I gave up after that and decided if it was going to fall off it was going to fall off. And fall off it did, leaving me to attempt to sight with hair in my vision. Sigh. As we rounded the last corner, I swallowed a bit too much sea water and hacked it back up again (bleurgh!) but I could see the ramp and the way out, so I was determined to finish this damn swim and be out of the water. 

The exit was up a boat ramp so we didn't have to worry about getting sand all over our feet. But remember that boat ramp for later, OK? I was shocked to see that I'd done the swim in 44 minutes - my fastest swim for a while! 

I got into transition with a bunch of other Tritons which was great and we all got out of our swim stuff, into bike stuff and ran off to our bikes. We went out over some cobbles which was interesting (Cascais seems to be obsessed with cobbles, both on the road and on the pavements. I feel sorry for disabled people.) 

The bike started OK if a bit slowly - straight into a hill and then a short descent. Then we started the main ascent, which just seemed to go on FOREVER. I tried to tell myself it was like Cudham (a climb near Orpington that we go to), but it was like Cudham without the shade and much longer! I saw people who had had to stop already with punctures (CO2 going everywhere), and some poor soul who was walking back to transition with his bike. At about 12 km going up this damn hill my legs weren't having any more and I had to stop and have a word with myself. I was still feeling a bit sick from the sea water too. Annoyingly about half a km further up the road we came to a flat section and a little village! There were more hills though, some which looked much steeper, and descents that then ended up turning up into further climbs. I started to run out of water, which was a concern, but I knew that at 20km we would get to the circuit and I could top up. It was hot, horrible and everyone came past me. All the Ironman cyclists started coming past as well. We went past the "12% descent" followed by the speed bump and then the sharp left hand turn, then finally we were on the descent to the race circuit. I would have enjoyed this more if I'd had anything left to drink, but I was more focused on getting to the aid station so I could finally top up. I was so relieved to have done the hilly section and be on the descent towards the sea. The race circuit was tricky because I wanted to hug the racing line and someone did try to come up inside me and shout "on your left" angrily but I didn't move for them. Finally topped up and with some liquid in me I carried on out of the race circuit and down towards Estoril. I hadn't looked much at the rest of the cycle course and thought it was fairly flat with a couple of "blips". It was not flat. The first blip was evil up the hill, and I kind of lost it as I tried to U-turn far to early and ended up having to go right round a roundabout back the correct way (someone shouted at me "What are you doing?" I didn't know!). Finally I got round the blip and back down the hill towards the sea. The road to Lisbon was interminable, painful and NEVER ENDED. At one point I heard this "pssssh" behind me and I thought, that's it, game over, I have a puncture. Actually, it was my race number rubbing against my wheel. It was incredibly annoying but not race ending. Then my feet started to feel like they were burning, first the soles then the toes. It was SO SORE. In the end I had to stop and stretch to try and relieve the pain, which did help. In the end I had to take some paracetamol at the next aid station to see if that would help at all. I was also hoping that the wind we were suffering with on the way to Lisbon would be a tailwind on the way home, but if anything it seemed to be worse😖. It was great to see so many Tritons out on the course and that really lifted my spirits. On the way back along the not-so-flat-and-windy road, back past Belém, past what I now know is Padrão dos Descobrimentos, a bizarre monument to the Portuguese Age of Discovery. My feet were absolutely killing me, no amount of even taking my feet off the pedals and trying to shake them were helping. By the time I got back to Cascais (rounding the bay was a particular highlight), I was almost in tears with the pain from my burning toes, it was just agony. I was also convinced that I was over time, that I'd let down my husband, my coach, and that I was a terrible triathlete. That I shouldn't be a triathlon coach. As someone pointed out to me later, I was in a Very Dark Place. I was already planning on entering a half marathon elsewhere as I'd resigned myself to being cut off. In fact, I discovered later that I entered T2 at 13:20 when the hard cut off was 13:37. I'd started at 8:02 so I also had about 10 minutes on my 5h 30 cut off. I got through transition in 4 minutes and started the run. Transition took me a few minutes longer because I forgot my cycling shorts on so had to run back to put them back in my bag! 

So I had 3 hours and a few minutes to do my half marathon. Now, bear in mind that my last two half marathons at the end of 70.3 have taken me a good 3 and a half hours, it was hot, I had given everything in the bike, and I had been ready to be cut off at the end of the bike. I'd also not run longer than maybe 13 km in training since March. The run had a really joyous (*sarcasm*) long gradual hill climb out of the town. Did I mention it was hot too? I walked through every aid station, throwing water over myself, almost drowning myself in the process sometimes! I drank all the coke I could and cheered on the Tritons coming the other way, who seemed as surprised as I was that I'd made it to the run. The run went on forever, and did go a little bit downhill before we had to go back up again and past the lighthouse. I was wiping down my hands on my legs, and my suit felt rough, it took me a while to realise that I'd sweated so much there were dried patches of salt on my shorts. 

Somehow still running

The run took us down into the marina and back up that blasted ramp we got out of when we were swimming. Just after the ramp were Julie and Stuart, where Julie told me to go faster. Ha, I thought, this is about as fast as I can go. Round the turn around point - once again not being cut off! - and back on the climb out of town 😒. I'd just about had enough and was really struggling to run, there were a lot more walk breaks on this time around. More aid stations, more water over my face, most of them cheering and saying força or "let's go, let's go", past the weird guy dancing with horns on his head, past Thea, past Ian, past Michelle, who I told I wouldn't make the final cut off. I saw the lighthouse ahead of me, and thought, do we go past that? Yes, yes we did. At least we only had to do it twice. Round the turnaround point, and finally back into town. I was surrounded by Ironman athletes, otherwise this would have been very lonely. It was still hot. My watch says it reached 35 degrees but I think actually it was more like 26...

I finally made it back to the marina where I noticed a man with a moped following me. I knew by this stage trying to get to the end before the cut off was impossible. He came up to me and said something in Portuguese which I understood to mean "your time is over" but he didn't try to stop me, so I continued running, responding "I know". Closer to the end of the marina, the Ironman winner came past me. I wondered if they would let me through the finishing gate, and I saw Stuart and Julie again cheering me on to the finish. As I got to the end, the Ironman winner was just going through the finish with the ticker tape and everything, and THEY LET ME THROUGH! So I got the end of the ticker tape and everyone was just cheering me through the finish line! It was an incredibly surreal experience, and the winner shook my hand just after I crossed the line. They even gave me a medal and a T-shirt!

Turns out I was even in the official video 😂

I have to say even though I was 10 minutes over the cut off for the run, my run was 10 minutes faster than my two previous 70.3s. I was very proud that I actually finished and didn't just give up. 

As always, I want to thank my husband Stuart for all of his support and to coach T, who has got me back on my feet after Covid... maybe next time I'll break the curse of the Ironman 70.3.