Saturday, 28 December 2013
Christmas Perineum 2013
DRAFT AND WAY TOO LONG....
The "Pireneum" is defined by a very good friend of mine as the "weird bit between the fun bits", ie the strange suspension of time and reality between Christmas and New Year, where you have to keep checking the day and date with others, and actually have a valid excuse for once, instead of just being senile and forgetful. Medical dictionaries define it slightly differently, but what do they know, eh?
My very good friend, aka Mr Thorpedo, says that he uses this time to look back on the year, measure success and failure and plan the next year. I thought that was such a good idea, not only would I steal it for the end of this blog, but also for the start of my next blog. Perineumising them nicely together (yip, that is a made-up word, but it should be real, AND in Medical dictionaries)
Except, for this, the last blog entry in "Really Trying", I'm not going to start with 1 Jan 2013. I'm going to start with a big bang.
This particular big bang happened not 13.7 billion years ago, but instead in October 2010, about a week after my big four-ow. It came in the form of a truck hitting me off my bike on my way to work. And my whole world changed in an instant. Just not instantaneously. Yes, I know that sounds weird, but stick with it.
First of all, that very instant, I couldn't feel my legs. I could however feel my back, and it hurt a lot. I wasn't sure what was preferable, but suspected I would have chosen being back in bed eating chocolate cheesecake for breakfast like I was half an hour previously, if there was an option c).
I can't remember the last time I was that scared. I don't think I've been that scared since, although I am very forgetful so that might not be as meaningful as it first sounds.
I lay there, unable to move for a while, with silent tears streaming down my face. Sorry, did I bollocks. I shouted the place down - screaming in pain, then oh my godding and finally swearing at the driver until some very nice men in very nice uniforms came to look after me. I wasn't sure why they were dressed as Firemen but to be honest I didn't mind, because they were lovely. They asked me for my name and I told them, I asked their names and they said "Matt and John, but you won't remember later". WRONG!!! Matt and John just happened to be the names of my first and second husbands. Or was it the other way round?
Eventually, after what seemed like forever but almost immediately at the same time (no, I don't understand it either), another couple of people came to ask me my name, and they had an ambulance with them. I asked them their names and they said "Andy and Katherine, but you won't remember later". WRONG!!! Andy was the name of my third (and current at the time) husband. And Katherine? Well, to be honest, I hadn't really thought that far ahead. But a seed was planted.
In the meantime there were lots of screams and shouts as these wonderful four people tried to put me on a stretcher. I'm pretty sure that some of them even came from me. Andy (although of course I won't remember later) asked me if I had any allergies or medical conditions, and I excitedly tried to wave my arm at him - the one which had my medical alert details on it. Two problems immediately ensued;
1) I couldn't move my arm, and 2) Neither Andy nor Katherine had their reading glasses with them.
So, I had to say all my ailments. Silly me - that delayed the first shot of morphine for about five minutes.
They then took my blood sugar reading, and when it came back very high (15), I tried to explain about the chocolate cheesecake I was eating whilst I was happily lying in bed about an hour previously. I heard a voice shout "Cheesecake? For breakfast?". I thought these public-servants weren't supposed to judge.
I was then rushed to hospital, with the lights blazing and the nee-nars nee-narring away. I would have been excited if I wasn't a) in lots of pain and b) getting very odd looks and comments about the whole chocolate cheesecake thing.
To cut a long story slightly shorter, and glossing over the misdiagnosis ("It's just a flesh wound") and the unintentional overdose of insulin ("Oh, have I just given her a week's worth in one go? Silly me!"), I made it out of hospital alive and kicking. Well, alive. To be honest, there wasn't much kicking going on at the time. Turns out that I had broken my back in three places ("Ooops, yes, missed that one, sorry! Back to the golf course!") and my collarbone (only discovered by a physio six weeks later, when I'd found something other than my back to scream about). And done some nerve damage to both arms. And had the contents of the rucksack on my back completely crushed. I was inches away from death.
Orange rucksack and CS
Stuff to do with triathlons pre 2012
Steve (a whole line all to himself)
2012 goals and aspirations and how I did - 1st blog
Olympic distance triathlon
Kurt
2/3 of 1/2 iron and not being able to work out multiples of fractions
2013 goals and aspirations and how I did - 2nd blog
Mr Thorpedo
Olympic Shmolympic
Half Iron for me! Plus a trophy! Plus a gluten-free cake! With golden curly wurlies!
2014 goals and aspirations - 3rd blog
Marathon
Iron in a Year
That'll do, pig.
Oh, maybe a couple of half irons.
Write a blog about being a diathletic - ie someone who has diabetes and is (vaguely) athletic. Even if only parkrun think so.
Saturday, 19 October 2013
What next?
DRAFT
Lots of thinking. Lots of reading. Not much exercise.
Full Ironman? - that annoying half thing (or HIM), makes it sound only half as good. Metal that's only half as strong as Iron..?
No, wait, I've signed up for a Marathon!
And aarrrrhgh, what if I did a full Ironman but in a year? A week? Three days?
Needs to be smarter and slicker and go into more detail about diabetes
Next blog name......
First one - Trying to be athletic - Olympic distance triathlon
Second one - Really trying to be really athletic - Half iron triathlon (HIM)
Next one - Diathlete?
Lots of thinking. Lots of reading. Not much exercise.
Full Ironman? - that annoying half thing (or HIM), makes it sound only half as good. Metal that's only half as strong as Iron..?
No, wait, I've signed up for a Marathon!
And aarrrrhgh, what if I did a full Ironman but in a year? A week? Three days?
Needs to be smarter and slicker and go into more detail about diabetes
Next blog name......
First one - Trying to be athletic - Olympic distance triathlon
Second one - Really trying to be really athletic - Half iron triathlon (HIM)
Next one - Diathlete?
Sunday, 13 October 2013
My Oscar-winning acceptance speech
DRAFT
Gala dinner
Who got me there
Who helped me finish
What does it mean?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hardnesses_of_the_elements_(data_page)
Gala dinner
Who got me there
Who helped me finish
What does it mean?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hardnesses_of_the_elements_(data_page)
Tuesday, 8 October 2013
The Longest Day - BTRS Half Ironman race report
So this is what happens if I really try to be really athletic.
Except it very nearly wasn't. I fell over like an idiot a week beforehand, and managed to hurt not only my ribs but most of my limbs too. This meant that breathing was painful, it was difficult to bend my legs, and I couldn't put both hands in the air like I just didn't care. Not exactly perfect preparation for the biggest race of my life, where I'd be lucky to start, let alone finish.
But, you never know unless you try.
To add an extra twist, Kurt told me that he had gone through the list of entrants and told me that I had a really good of actually WINNING this race. What, me? I've never won anything sporty before. The closest I've ever come to that is winning an elastic band for being the fourth nicest to marshalls during Uncle Steve's triathlon, and almost winning a day with Victoria Pendleton due to my curly wurly addiction. And even in my bizarre world, neither of those actually required being any good at sport.
I would kick myself if I didn't try. And if I couldn't bend my legs far enough to kick myself, I'm sure Uncle Steve would have offered to help me out.
So I turned up on the day with a certain amount of trepidation, a considerable amount of strapping and a shed load of painkillers. Oh and a bike. Forgot the alcohol though.
SWIM (1.9k) - 0:50:00
Guess what? It was cold. Luckily I was too nervous to notice the cold. And it helped to numb the pain in my... well, everywhere really. Like last year, it was a relatively simple along and back course. Like last year, there was hardly any swell. However unlike last year, there was a strong tide so it felt like I was swimming uphill for half the time. Actually it felt like I was swimming uphill all the time. I've been told that's technically impossible, but that was from someone who noticeably wasn't swimming 1.9km that morning, meh.
I'd hoped to finish the swim in under an hour. I finished intact, still alive, still breathing, still with all my limbs, in bang on 50 minutes. Couldn't argue with that result.
T1 - 0:13:00
I could however argue with Kurt for putting a wall in the middle of T1. On top of that I had to test my blood sugar. And make sure I didn't forget anything And eat a curly wurly. I also had to take more painkillers, rub cream into my feet, add some more knee support, put my socks on and get out of my wetsuit. I got confused about the order of things again, which meant that I may have eaten more than one curly wurly, but worse things have happened in T1
Blood sugar was a reasonably OK 11.3 before me and all of my dodgy limbs got on the bike.
BIKE (90k) - 3:31:00
The first part was to Shoreham, then out to Newhaven and back, followed by six laps of the harbour arm, otherwise known as Unnnngggghhhh's time trial. I would have been reasonably confident of not only finishing the bike course, but also finishing in less than four hours, feeling almost up for running a half marathon and definitely up for a nice sit down with a bowl of chips. But that was before I twatted myself last week. I changed my strategy to "pedal and hope".
So it was with absolute delight that I managed to finish the course in a record time of 3 hours 31 minutes. Not only that, but I was also almost up for running a half marathon, and definitely up for a nice sit down with a bowl of chips. And I finished the bike on a blood sugar reading of 5.5. Wow, those painkillers were good.
T2 - 0:25:00
One of the many golden rules in triathlon is never change your nutrition on race day. That meant I absolutely had to have a nice sit down with a bowl of chips. Luckily that was just enough time for the next lot of painkillers to kick in before the real hell started.
In the meantime I had a slightly pressing engagement with a toilet. However not only were the loos over 100m away, but they were in the complete opposite direction to the way I had to run. I knew that the run course went past toilets, but that wasn't until about 10km in. So I had to make a decision. Go now and walk about 200m more than necessary, or wait until I'd had a nice sit down with a bowl of chips, taken my painkillers and then run 10km, all the time praying that I didn't do a Paula (or worse) in the meantime. The answer was obvious.
RUN/ZOMBIE SHUFFLE (21k) - 2:56:00
I managed that first 10km before my wee break (in both senses of the word) in just under 1 hour 10 minutes. If I carried on at that rate, I'd be over and done and stuffing my face with curly wurlies before Pimms O'Clock (if I'd remembered the bloody alcohol). However it wasn't to be. The next 11k was hell.
Winston Churchill once said "If you're going through hell, keep going". I know this because I had a whole bunch of people shouting this at me, as well as other comments such as "Pain is weakness leaving the body", "Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional", and "Pain is temporary, quitting is forever". I really wish they would have stopped going on about pain. What they should have said was "There's a massive gluten-free chocolate cake waiting for you at the finish line, and it's decorated with golden curly wurlies". That would have helped enormously, even if it wasn't true***.
In the end, I managed to run/zombie shuffle the full 21k, albeit in a pretty disrespectful 2 hours 47 minutes. I don't know how I did it, but I did. I'd given it my all, and I felt like collapsing there and then. There was only one problem - I hadn't actually finished. To my absolute horror, it turned out that the run course was a full 1km longer than the half marathon it should have been.
I had specifically put myself through over an hour of unnerving discomfort to avoid walking 200m more than I absolutely had do in T2. I was now faced with an extra 1,000m of extreme discomfort on the run, like it or not. I would have cried if I had the energy, but I had nothing left. Nothing. At. All.
Except.
Sis, who doesn't get out of bed unless there's a medal involved, was with me. She'd planned on joining me for the last 10k of the run, but had instead run the whole way. Without complaining once.
Bro, who I have never seen run before, was with me. He hadn't planned on running at all, but had been with me for the last 12k of the run. He was very cheerful and upbeat. Some would say slightly too cheerful, but I wouldn't possibly admit thinking that.
Amy and Russ, who came out on the bike to support me on the last leg, literally and figuratively.
Everyone who was waiting for me at the finish line, including Kurt, who was holding out a medal for me.
So I managed to run every step of that last, unexpected 1,000m. Simply because it would have been rude not to.
TOTAL TIME - 7:54
I finished! I didn't die! My blood sugar was a remarkably normal 4.3! And, bugger me sideways, I WON! OK, I was the only woman to actually finish. And the only one to actually start. But that still counts as a win in mybook blog.
*** It bloody was - THIS was waiting for me at the end!
Except it very nearly wasn't. I fell over like an idiot a week beforehand, and managed to hurt not only my ribs but most of my limbs too. This meant that breathing was painful, it was difficult to bend my legs, and I couldn't put both hands in the air like I just didn't care. Not exactly perfect preparation for the biggest race of my life, where I'd be lucky to start, let alone finish.
But, you never know unless you try.
To add an extra twist, Kurt told me that he had gone through the list of entrants and told me that I had a really good of actually WINNING this race. What, me? I've never won anything sporty before. The closest I've ever come to that is winning an elastic band for being the fourth nicest to marshalls during Uncle Steve's triathlon, and almost winning a day with Victoria Pendleton due to my curly wurly addiction. And even in my bizarre world, neither of those actually required being any good at sport.
I would kick myself if I didn't try. And if I couldn't bend my legs far enough to kick myself, I'm sure Uncle Steve would have offered to help me out.
So I turned up on the day with a certain amount of trepidation, a considerable amount of strapping and a shed load of painkillers. Oh and a bike. Forgot the alcohol though.
SWIM (1.9k) - 0:50:00
Guess what? It was cold. Luckily I was too nervous to notice the cold. And it helped to numb the pain in my... well, everywhere really. Like last year, it was a relatively simple along and back course. Like last year, there was hardly any swell. However unlike last year, there was a strong tide so it felt like I was swimming uphill for half the time. Actually it felt like I was swimming uphill all the time. I've been told that's technically impossible, but that was from someone who noticeably wasn't swimming 1.9km that morning, meh.
I'd hoped to finish the swim in under an hour. I finished intact, still alive, still breathing, still with all my limbs, in bang on 50 minutes. Couldn't argue with that result.
T1 - 0:13:00
I could however argue with Kurt for putting a wall in the middle of T1. On top of that I had to test my blood sugar. And make sure I didn't forget anything And eat a curly wurly. I also had to take more painkillers, rub cream into my feet, add some more knee support, put my socks on and get out of my wetsuit. I got confused about the order of things again, which meant that I may have eaten more than one curly wurly, but worse things have happened in T1
Blood sugar was a reasonably OK 11.3 before me and all of my dodgy limbs got on the bike.
BIKE (90k) - 3:31:00
The first part was to Shoreham, then out to Newhaven and back, followed by six laps of the harbour arm, otherwise known as Unnnngggghhhh's time trial. I would have been reasonably confident of not only finishing the bike course, but also finishing in less than four hours, feeling almost up for running a half marathon and definitely up for a nice sit down with a bowl of chips. But that was before I twatted myself last week. I changed my strategy to "pedal and hope".
 |
| That massive Himalayan peak is affectionately known as "Get the Hell out of Newhaven" on Strava, and is a Category 4/5 climb. Just sayin' |
T2 - 0:25:00
One of the many golden rules in triathlon is never change your nutrition on race day. That meant I absolutely had to have a nice sit down with a bowl of chips. Luckily that was just enough time for the next lot of painkillers to kick in before the real hell started.
In the meantime I had a slightly pressing engagement with a toilet. However not only were the loos over 100m away, but they were in the complete opposite direction to the way I had to run. I knew that the run course went past toilets, but that wasn't until about 10km in. So I had to make a decision. Go now and walk about 200m more than necessary, or wait until I'd had a nice sit down with a bowl of chips, taken my painkillers and then run 10km, all the time praying that I didn't do a Paula (or worse) in the meantime. The answer was obvious.
RUN/ZOMBIE SHUFFLE (21k) - 2:56:00
I managed that first 10km before my wee break (in both senses of the word) in just under 1 hour 10 minutes. If I carried on at that rate, I'd be over and done and stuffing my face with curly wurlies before Pimms O'Clock (if I'd remembered the bloody alcohol). However it wasn't to be. The next 11k was hell.
Winston Churchill once said "If you're going through hell, keep going". I know this because I had a whole bunch of people shouting this at me, as well as other comments such as "Pain is weakness leaving the body", "Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional", and "Pain is temporary, quitting is forever". I really wish they would have stopped going on about pain. What they should have said was "There's a massive gluten-free chocolate cake waiting for you at the finish line, and it's decorated with golden curly wurlies". That would have helped enormously, even if it wasn't true***.
In the end, I managed to run/zombie shuffle the full 21k, albeit in a pretty disrespectful 2 hours 47 minutes. I don't know how I did it, but I did. I'd given it my all, and I felt like collapsing there and then. There was only one problem - I hadn't actually finished. To my absolute horror, it turned out that the run course was a full 1km longer than the half marathon it should have been.
I had specifically put myself through over an hour of unnerving discomfort to avoid walking 200m more than I absolutely had do in T2. I was now faced with an extra 1,000m of extreme discomfort on the run, like it or not. I would have cried if I had the energy, but I had nothing left. Nothing. At. All.
Except.
Sis, who doesn't get out of bed unless there's a medal involved, was with me. She'd planned on joining me for the last 10k of the run, but had instead run the whole way. Without complaining once.
Bro, who I have never seen run before, was with me. He hadn't planned on running at all, but had been with me for the last 12k of the run. He was very cheerful and upbeat. Some would say slightly too cheerful, but I wouldn't possibly admit thinking that.
Amy and Russ, who came out on the bike to support me on the last leg, literally and figuratively.
Everyone who was waiting for me at the finish line, including Kurt, who was holding out a medal for me.
So I managed to run every step of that last, unexpected 1,000m. Simply because it would have been rude not to.
TOTAL TIME - 7:54
I finished! I didn't die! My blood sugar was a remarkably normal 4.3! And, bugger me sideways, I WON! OK, I was the only woman to actually finish. And the only one to actually start. But that still counts as a win in my
 |
| Me, finishing! |
 |
| Me, not dying! |
 |
| Me, winning! I was the only female who finished the course, so technically, I was last too. |
*** It bloody was - THIS was waiting for me at the end!
 |
| A cake! A gluten-free cake! A chocolate gluten-free cake! A chocolate gluten-free cake with curly wurlies! Golden curly wurlies! If I'd have known this was waiting for me at the finish line I would have broken my half-marathon-and-a-kilometre PB. |
Friday, 4 October 2013
The Seven Pees
You know what they say about the seven pees.... Well, if you don't, this is them...
Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance
Of all those words, I'm most worried about the pee one. The one that sometimes happens to me when I have an infection down there (oh soooo TMI). The one that Paula did, if in fact that was a pee (TMI again?). So I have planned. I have double-planned. I have back-up planned. And if all else fails, I have a post-it note on the front door. I think I've got it covered.
Update - I forgot the alcohol. Plonker.
Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance
Of all those words, I'm most worried about the pee one. The one that sometimes happens to me when I have an infection down there (oh soooo TMI). The one that Paula did, if in fact that was a pee (TMI again?). So I have planned. I have double-planned. I have back-up planned. And if all else fails, I have a post-it note on the front door. I think I've got it covered.
 |
| My last minute fail-safe checklist. What could possibly go wrong? |
Update - I forgot the alcohol. Plonker.
Saturday, 28 September 2013
Extreme tapering
DRAFT
Friday "Fun" this week hampered by my inability to do mental maths AND my inability to put one foot in front of the other. As a result I went arse over tit and hurt lots of bits of me, including my pride. Luckily I was with two wonderful people who looked after me and fed me curly wurlies until I managed to stagger back to the cafe for my weekly fix of post-exercise chips
Friday "Fun" this week hampered by my inability to do mental maths AND my inability to put one foot in front of the other. As a result I went arse over tit and hurt lots of bits of me, including my pride. Luckily I was with two wonderful people who looked after me and fed me curly wurlies until I managed to stagger back to the cafe for my weekly fix of post-exercise chips
 |
| Just a fleshwound. But the bruised ribs hurt a lot more |
Wednesday, 25 September 2013
Anti-ranting
I must confess to feeling sorry for myself after another day of cancelled plans because of illness of one form or another (I've just got over diabetes-related infection waning, to be replaced with asthma-related chest issues again)..... I started googling for advice from other asthmatic diabetics, and came across a blog which had a fantastic post about anti-ranting. It suggests that when you're feeling a bit down, see if you can think about reasons to be cheerful/grateful/lucky. You'll always find at least one. It's here if I ever forget.
So, after about five minutes of thinking hard, I realised that I am a very very lucky bunny;
a) I get FREE prescriptions. In the USA it can cost over $300 per month just to be asthmatic. Quadruple that if you're diabetic too
b) I have friends who voluntarily give me 10 curly wurlies (nothing whatsoever to do with me stealing their wetsuits and holding them to ransom)
c) CS is currently topless, covered in grease and is calling for my attention.
So, after about five minutes of thinking hard, I realised that I am a very very lucky bunny;
a) I get FREE prescriptions. In the USA it can cost over $300 per month just to be asthmatic. Quadruple that if you're diabetic too
b) I have friends who voluntarily give me 10 curly wurlies (nothing whatsoever to do with me stealing their wetsuits and holding them to ransom)
c) CS is currently topless, covered in grease and is calling for my attention.
Friday, 20 September 2013
Is it that time ALREADY? Half Iron race briefing
I've had a few issues with injuries, illnesses and panics over the last few weeks, and I'm way behind with my half iron training as a result. OK, the new Ikea catalogue didn't help. The nice new duvet with London Underground duvet cover and matching Mind the Gap pillow covers weren't making it any easier. Throw in some very cute extremely affectionate (albeit flatulent) cats and a CS who kept bringing curly wurlies to my bedside WITHOUT EVEN BEING ASKED, and it was amazing I've ever managed to get out of bed at all over the last few weeks.
This week, Inspirational Kurt held a race briefing, and I really needed to get out of bed for that. However, there was a bit of a problem.
Recently, due to recurrent infections "down there", I've been having enormous difficulty
a) wearing pants and
b) keeping my legs together
OK, I admit, I had similar problems back in the 90's, albeit for completely different reasons.
The only clean dress I had was a cheeky little black number, which used to work perfectly back in the 90's, but wasn't really suitable for a considerably older woman attending a race briefing**. I felt very sorry for everyone sitting opposite me. Which was pretty much everyone, at least at the start.
Anyway, during the briefing, Kurt ran through everything we needed to know about the race, a lot of things we didn't need to know, and quite a few that I never want to know but now can't unlearn. He then mentioned that each of the swim, bike and run courses will be different to last year. Pardon? I've been practicing last years bike course every week for the last five weeks! Well, I would have if I'd ever been able to cycle more than half way without collapsing inside established financial institutions
But to my absolute joy (well, as much joy as you could have when thinking about a half iron race), Kurt announced that the bike course was basically one lap of Carats to Newhaven and back, followed by a stop for a bowl of chips, then basically Unnngggghhhh's time trial route. I could have kissed him. Not only can I do that course, it's pretty much what I have been practicing for what feels like most of my life. Well, the chips bit anyway.
Annoyingly, the swim course still involves getting cold and wet, and the run course still involves running, but then you can't have everything.
So, today, I had a go at the OFFICIAL bike course. I finished! I didn't die! I stopped for a curly wurly! All in a smidgeon under 4 hours! In fact it went so well, that I saved the chips until after I'd finished the bike course. It then went so well that I managed to skedaddle 7k of the run course before I collapsed into a heap of blood, sweat and empty curly wurly wrappers. I then headed back to my London Underground bed, flatulent cats, and an unlimited supply of curly wurlies, where I still am and intend to be for at least the next 48 hours. Now which one of those cats just dropped that particular stinker? Ah, I think it was me.
** Ha! A briefing but no briefs!
This week, Inspirational Kurt held a race briefing, and I really needed to get out of bed for that. However, there was a bit of a problem.
Recently, due to recurrent infections "down there", I've been having enormous difficulty
a) wearing pants and
b) keeping my legs together
OK, I admit, I had similar problems back in the 90's, albeit for completely different reasons.
The only clean dress I had was a cheeky little black number, which used to work perfectly back in the 90's, but wasn't really suitable for a considerably older woman attending a race briefing**. I felt very sorry for everyone sitting opposite me. Which was pretty much everyone, at least at the start.
Anyway, during the briefing, Kurt ran through everything we needed to know about the race, a lot of things we didn't need to know, and quite a few that I never want to know but now can't unlearn. He then mentioned that each of the swim, bike and run courses will be different to last year. Pardon? I've been practicing last years bike course every week for the last five weeks! Well, I would have if I'd ever been able to cycle more than half way without collapsing inside established financial institutions
But to my absolute joy (well, as much joy as you could have when thinking about a half iron race), Kurt announced that the bike course was basically one lap of Carats to Newhaven and back, followed by a stop for a bowl of chips, then basically Unnngggghhhh's time trial route. I could have kissed him. Not only can I do that course, it's pretty much what I have been practicing for what feels like most of my life. Well, the chips bit anyway.
Annoyingly, the swim course still involves getting cold and wet, and the run course still involves running, but then you can't have everything.
So, today, I had a go at the OFFICIAL bike course. I finished! I didn't die! I stopped for a curly wurly! All in a smidgeon under 4 hours! In fact it went so well, that I saved the chips until after I'd finished the bike course. It then went so well that I managed to skedaddle 7k of the run course before I collapsed into a heap of blood, sweat and empty curly wurly wrappers. I then headed back to my London Underground bed, flatulent cats, and an unlimited supply of curly wurlies, where I still am and intend to be for at least the next 48 hours. Now which one of those cats just dropped that particular stinker? Ah, I think it was me.
** Ha! A briefing but no briefs!
Saturday, 14 September 2013
ITU LONDON SPRINT WORLD CHAMPS - RACE REPORT (Draft)
Copied shamelessly from my Facebook post. Must stop doing that.
Ok, I didn't qualify, unless you count entering a random ballot and having your name picked out of a hat. Luckily that's exactly what the lovely people at ITU do to allow numpties like me (tactical or otherwise) to have a go if we think we're hard enough.
RACE BRIEFING
Well, I'm sure there was one, but I was far too busy shopping - we were right next to Oxford Street after all. Problem is, I'm not sure that a 4 hour shopping trip is an appropriate warm-up for the World Champs. In fact I was knackered before we even made it to Hamleys. Luckily CS was on hand to carry all the shopping. If only he could carry me too....
SWIM 750m - 20 mins. (209/259)
I'm not sure where I left my swim legs. Or arms for that matter. But at least I didn't do backstroke and go in circles, like someone in the previous wave did. Got kicked in the face, arms & teeth, and that was just by me for being so pants at swimming. Oh well, onwards and eastwards, as they say.
T1 - Forever. Bless.
Still haven't got the hang of it. But at least I remembered to take my gel, put on my race number, shades and helmet before leaving T1. Only had to come back once, and that was because I forgot the bike.
BIKE 22.5k - 44 mins. (69/259)
Interesting route - very twisty-turny with a couple of hairpin bends. I learned midway through the course that us slow coaches are supposed to stay on the right and be overtaken on the left instead of the other way round. Oh, didn't we all laugh? Well, most of the laughing was from me, and now when I think about it, none of the lycra-clad speed-freaks thought it was funny at all. Oh well, bygones. Chicked a few blokes, and gained back some places over some other women.
T2 - Forever. Bless.
But seriously, they made us run loads - I reckon I covered most of the run course during T1 and T2 - not including having to go back to pick up the bike for the bike section, and having to go back to drop the bike off for the run section (apparently, according to the marshalls, you're not allowed to cycle the run course, no matter how much shopping you've done earlier in the day)
RUN 5k - 26 mins. (159/259)
Pardon? I got overtaken by an elderly lady with a limp who sniggered at me while passing. And I've never run 5k faster than 27:something. That can't be right..... Or can it? Inspirational Steve and Eversmiling Kay were there to cheer me in, and bless them, they cheered me up too.
T3 - Forever. Bless.
Back to hotel, shower, change. Yes, I was so long doing that whole triathlon lark that we were running (pardon the pun) late for the poker, so we had to leg it back to the hotel, put normal clothes on, realise I hadn't had a shower, take normal clothes off again, have shower, put normal clothes on again, and skedaddle* to the casino.
POKER TOURNAMENT - 21st out of 112. Now that's what I call a result!
* Skedaddle - a sort of run/walk/stumble that can only be achieved through a full day's worth of physical exertion in uncomfortable shoes. Not a pleasant sight, and I certainly don't plan on doing that ever again. Until 5th October, when I will probably "skedaddle" my way through the half iron half marathon. If I'm lucky.
To Do - Add on the Women, Inspirational Steve, Marianne Clark, ITU Womens Race and Nonny Non, Mens Race, tactical numptiness.
Ok, I didn't qualify, unless you count entering a random ballot and having your name picked out of a hat. Luckily that's exactly what the lovely people at ITU do to allow numpties like me (tactical or otherwise) to have a go if we think we're hard enough.
RACE BRIEFING
Well, I'm sure there was one, but I was far too busy shopping - we were right next to Oxford Street after all. Problem is, I'm not sure that a 4 hour shopping trip is an appropriate warm-up for the World Champs. In fact I was knackered before we even made it to Hamleys. Luckily CS was on hand to carry all the shopping. If only he could carry me too....
SWIM 750m - 20 mins. (209/259)
I'm not sure where I left my swim legs. Or arms for that matter. But at least I didn't do backstroke and go in circles, like someone in the previous wave did. Got kicked in the face, arms & teeth, and that was just by me for being so pants at swimming. Oh well, onwards and eastwards, as they say.
T1 - Forever. Bless.
Still haven't got the hang of it. But at least I remembered to take my gel, put on my race number, shades and helmet before leaving T1. Only had to come back once, and that was because I forgot the bike.
BIKE 22.5k - 44 mins. (69/259)
Interesting route - very twisty-turny with a couple of hairpin bends. I learned midway through the course that us slow coaches are supposed to stay on the right and be overtaken on the left instead of the other way round. Oh, didn't we all laugh? Well, most of the laughing was from me, and now when I think about it, none of the lycra-clad speed-freaks thought it was funny at all. Oh well, bygones. Chicked a few blokes, and gained back some places over some other women.
T2 - Forever. Bless.
But seriously, they made us run loads - I reckon I covered most of the run course during T1 and T2 - not including having to go back to pick up the bike for the bike section, and having to go back to drop the bike off for the run section (apparently, according to the marshalls, you're not allowed to cycle the run course, no matter how much shopping you've done earlier in the day)
RUN 5k - 26 mins. (159/259)
Pardon? I got overtaken by an elderly lady with a limp who sniggered at me while passing. And I've never run 5k faster than 27:something. That can't be right..... Or can it? Inspirational Steve and Eversmiling Kay were there to cheer me in, and bless them, they cheered me up too.
T3 - Forever. Bless.
Back to hotel, shower, change. Yes, I was so long doing that whole triathlon lark that we were running (pardon the pun) late for the poker, so we had to leg it back to the hotel, put normal clothes on, realise I hadn't had a shower, take normal clothes off again, have shower, put normal clothes on again, and skedaddle* to the casino.
POKER TOURNAMENT - 21st out of 112. Now that's what I call a result!
* Skedaddle - a sort of run/walk/stumble that can only be achieved through a full day's worth of physical exertion in uncomfortable shoes. Not a pleasant sight, and I certainly don't plan on doing that ever again. Until 5th October, when I will probably "skedaddle" my way through the half iron half marathon. If I'm lucky.
To Do - Add on the Women, Inspirational Steve, Marianne Clark, ITU Womens Race and Nonny Non, Mens Race, tactical numptiness.
Sunday, 8 September 2013
The best half marathon in the world? Probably (Draft)
Stolen from Facebook - needs writing up better....
Those of you who know me, quite a few that don't, and others who have restraining orders against me, will probably be aware that I hate running. Almost as passionately as I love curly wurlies.
1) It goes through a vineyard
Those of you who know me, quite a few that don't, and others who have restraining orders against me, will probably be aware that I hate running. Almost as passionately as I love curly wurlies.
Not any more! (I still passionately love curly wurlies though)
The Bacchus Half Marathon is a mainly off-road half marathon with EIGHT key differences;
1) It goes through a vineyard
2) There are SEVEN feed stations
3) You get to taste wine at every single one of them
4) They have jaffa cakes too. And jelly babies. And bourbon biscuits. And mars bars. Not a kit kat in sight.
5) The views are amazing
6) People dress up - I overtook a banana, but an old lady with the zimmerframe dropped me at mile 10. At least I think it was a lady.
7) Although there's a little hill about half-way through (yes, we walked it), the last 2 miles are blissfully downhill
8) It's FUN
9) If you're not completely full up by the time you finish, there's a free hog roast
10) I'm no good at mental maths
10) I'm no good at mental maths
It's the only race I've ever wanted to sign up for again before I'd even finished, it was that good. I think Sis agreed with me, but it was difficult to tell due to the fact that she was completely drunk and had her head in a vat of roasted hog. She claimed to be resting, but I knew better - that hog roast was gorgeous.
Don't even ask about the time - time is an illusion (although it started with a 2, and I was 82nd in my age group)
It also comes in the full Marathon version too. Ironically they were handing out Snickers.....
Sunday, 1 September 2013
Southwater Relays - DRAFT
Thorpedos Torpedos
Reasons why I chose triathlon - useless at team sports
Misunderstanding about the relays - now part of a team.
Mistakes - forgot gel, jacket acted like parachute, left helmet on for the run.
Everyone was lovely. Felt like one big happy family - although I'm sure I'm that strange old aunt that they have to invite to every family function.
Reasons why I chose triathlon - useless at team sports
Misunderstanding about the relays - now part of a team.
Mistakes - forgot gel, jacket acted like parachute, left helmet on for the run.
Everyone was lovely. Felt like one big happy family - although I'm sure I'm that strange old aunt that they have to invite to every family function.
Monday, 26 August 2013
Intervention DRAFT
Bizarre - thought it would be either the wine or the curly wurlies, but no, it was exercise.
Closely followed by an evening of too much wine and curly wurlies.
But exercise IS important. (Explain why)
Anyway, bizarrely ended up with doing MORE exercise as a result of the intervention.
Also played poker, but appear to have lost my edge. I guess you need to train hard for that too....
Poker night turned into Swim then Poker night, which turned into a Swim, get tired, turn up late to Poker, accidentally knock CS out by mistake, go home at 3am night.
Saturday, 17 August 2013
Progress..... of sorts (DRAFT)
Managed the bike course - gels every 45 minutes, chips every 45km. Perfect blood sugar - go figure.
Last week pain and misery set in after 60km. This week the pain and misery set in after 65km.
Managed to walk 100m to the cafe afterwards. Still not a half marathon though.
Next week's plan;
Same bike course. Aiming for the pain and misery to start after 70km. Jog 100m to the cafe afterwards.
No, wait. The Ikea catalogue is out next week. There goes the training....
Saturday, 10 August 2013
Diabetes Tubthumping.
OK, so now I've got the big one out of the way
I now have the following information tattooed into my soul - Swim 1.9km. Bike 90km. Run 21km. It's all I can think about now, apart from curly wurlies of course. Thinking about it doesn't count though. I actually have to train for it.
So, what have I done so far? Well, I swam 1.9km last year, once. I biked 90km last year, once. I ran** 21km this year, twice. Unfortunately that doesn't count, as, according to some stupid rules that some stupid person thought up, you have to do them all in the same day, one after the other. What were they thinking? What was I thinking when I said yes?
I know that I can do the swim bit followed by the bike bit - I did it last year
But the end of the season is ages away, isn't it? Except it's not. I realised that I now have 8 weeks to get myself up to scratch. That means being able to cycle 90k comfortably enough to then run a half marathon before I get to lie down and be fed curly wurlies.
So, first things first. Cycle the 90k course and see how it feels.
I decided that I was going to take it nice and easy. I invited the lovely Unnnngggghhhh to join me for the first lap, and planned to complete the second lap by myself. I was even going to stop every 45 minutes for a quick blood sugar test, like a good diabetic should.
The plan fell apart pretty much straight away. I managed to get to the start point, Carats cafe (the one with the strangely placed apostrophes) on time, but my testing kit hadn't - it was still in bed. Oh well, no worries, I'm sure I'll be fine.
To be fair, I was for the first 45k. We stopped at this point to drop Unnnngggghhhh off and I took the chance to scoff a curly wurly. I was back on the bike after 5 minutes or so, feeling rested and confident. I began to feel a bit sore after 60k, but you don't cycle this far without having a sore arse, neck niggle and maybe a bit of lower back pain. However by 80k I was feeling a lot worse. On top of the expected soreness, my arms were hurting, I had pins and needles in my fingers, my back was going into spasm, and I developed shooting pains in my feet. In short I was not having fun. I had also run out of gels.
The devil on my shoulder said "Stop now, get a cab home. No-one will know". The angel on my shoulder said "You know, Devil's got a point, better safe than sorry and all that. Oh wait, you forgot your purse too, you dingbat."
I managed 89.1km before I accepted that I had to stop as I couldn't even see properly. I forgot to decleat*** and promptly fell over. I suddenly realised that I was in heavy traffic in the middle of Preston Circus, a junction where five roads meet. I picked myself up and tried to walk across the rest of the road, but my legs had turned to jelly. It took me a few minutes to stagger across, and I stopped a lot of traffic in the process. Eventually I sat down on the pavement outside Barclays bank, unable to even think straight, let alone anything else. I then realised that I was sitting just a few feet away from where I was knocked off my bike by a truck almost three years earlier. I was scared and unable to move then. I was scared and unable to move now too. I'm ashamed to say that I started crying a little bit.
However, after a few minutes I remembered that I had some emergency curly wurlies in my bag. Nothing cheers me up like an unexpected curly wurly. After a few more minutes I had the strength to open one of them. A few minutes later I remembered that I was a Premier account holder with Barclays. I couldn't quite remember what any of the benefits of having a Premier account were, but I decided right there and then that one of them should be the right to come inside, sit on a chair and eat curly wurlies without being hassled by assistant managers. I struggled into the bank, found a chair, half sat, half slumped, half collapsed into it and started eating curly wurlies.
Turns out that sitting in a chair and eating curly wurlies without being hassled by an assistant manager is not one of the perks of a Barclays Premier bank account. However, they will make an international payment for you if you so wish. This involves a lot of paperwork, and whilst they process the paperwork, as a Premier customer you are invited to sit down. I paid 100 Indian Rupees to my friend in India. It cost me £1.10. Outsmarting the assistant manager into allowing me to sit down and eat curly wurlies? Priceless.
About half an hour later I started feeling a bit better. It took Barclays a few more minutes to complete the paperwork, and then I was on my way again. I only had about a mile to go, and I managed it without crying. I then slept for a week.
I've called this post Diabetes Tubthumping but I haven't explained why yet. Well, before I forget, do you remember that cheesy song from the 90's, which has the lyrics "I get knocked down, but I get up again. You're never going to keep me down"? It's called Tubthumping, whatever that is. Today I dedicated that song to my diabetes. This was a temporary setback, and I've got a whole 8 weeks to work on getting the bike part right. It's just a bit of a shame I still have to follow it up immediately with that pesky half-marathon.
** Technically I haven't actually run any half marathons yet. I have part run, part walk, part stagger, part complain loudly about chocolate though. Does that count?
*** I think I just made up that word.
I now have the following information tattooed into my soul - Swim 1.9km. Bike 90km. Run 21km. It's all I can think about now, apart from curly wurlies of course. Thinking about it doesn't count though. I actually have to train for it.
So, what have I done so far? Well, I swam 1.9km last year, once. I biked 90km last year, once. I ran** 21km this year, twice. Unfortunately that doesn't count, as, according to some stupid rules that some stupid person thought up, you have to do them all in the same day, one after the other. What were they thinking? What was I thinking when I said yes?
I know that I can do the swim bit followed by the bike bit - I did it last year
But the end of the season is ages away, isn't it? Except it's not. I realised that I now have 8 weeks to get myself up to scratch. That means being able to cycle 90k comfortably enough to then run a half marathon before I get to lie down and be fed curly wurlies.
So, first things first. Cycle the 90k course and see how it feels.
I decided that I was going to take it nice and easy. I invited the lovely Unnnngggghhhh to join me for the first lap, and planned to complete the second lap by myself. I was even going to stop every 45 minutes for a quick blood sugar test, like a good diabetic should.
The plan fell apart pretty much straight away. I managed to get to the start point, Carats cafe (the one with the strangely placed apostrophes) on time, but my testing kit hadn't - it was still in bed. Oh well, no worries, I'm sure I'll be fine.
To be fair, I was for the first 45k. We stopped at this point to drop Unnnngggghhhh off and I took the chance to scoff a curly wurly. I was back on the bike after 5 minutes or so, feeling rested and confident. I began to feel a bit sore after 60k, but you don't cycle this far without having a sore arse, neck niggle and maybe a bit of lower back pain. However by 80k I was feeling a lot worse. On top of the expected soreness, my arms were hurting, I had pins and needles in my fingers, my back was going into spasm, and I developed shooting pains in my feet. In short I was not having fun. I had also run out of gels.
The devil on my shoulder said "Stop now, get a cab home. No-one will know". The angel on my shoulder said "You know, Devil's got a point, better safe than sorry and all that. Oh wait, you forgot your purse too, you dingbat."
I managed 89.1km before I accepted that I had to stop as I couldn't even see properly. I forgot to decleat*** and promptly fell over. I suddenly realised that I was in heavy traffic in the middle of Preston Circus, a junction where five roads meet. I picked myself up and tried to walk across the rest of the road, but my legs had turned to jelly. It took me a few minutes to stagger across, and I stopped a lot of traffic in the process. Eventually I sat down on the pavement outside Barclays bank, unable to even think straight, let alone anything else. I then realised that I was sitting just a few feet away from where I was knocked off my bike by a truck almost three years earlier. I was scared and unable to move then. I was scared and unable to move now too. I'm ashamed to say that I started crying a little bit.
However, after a few minutes I remembered that I had some emergency curly wurlies in my bag. Nothing cheers me up like an unexpected curly wurly. After a few more minutes I had the strength to open one of them. A few minutes later I remembered that I was a Premier account holder with Barclays. I couldn't quite remember what any of the benefits of having a Premier account were, but I decided right there and then that one of them should be the right to come inside, sit on a chair and eat curly wurlies without being hassled by assistant managers. I struggled into the bank, found a chair, half sat, half slumped, half collapsed into it and started eating curly wurlies.
Turns out that sitting in a chair and eating curly wurlies without being hassled by an assistant manager is not one of the perks of a Barclays Premier bank account. However, they will make an international payment for you if you so wish. This involves a lot of paperwork, and whilst they process the paperwork, as a Premier customer you are invited to sit down. I paid 100 Indian Rupees to my friend in India. It cost me £1.10. Outsmarting the assistant manager into allowing me to sit down and eat curly wurlies? Priceless.
About half an hour later I started feeling a bit better. It took Barclays a few more minutes to complete the paperwork, and then I was on my way again. I only had about a mile to go, and I managed it without crying. I then slept for a week.
I've called this post Diabetes Tubthumping but I haven't explained why yet. Well, before I forget, do you remember that cheesy song from the 90's, which has the lyrics "I get knocked down, but I get up again. You're never going to keep me down"? It's called Tubthumping, whatever that is. Today I dedicated that song to my diabetes. This was a temporary setback, and I've got a whole 8 weeks to work on getting the bike part right. It's just a bit of a shame I still have to follow it up immediately with that pesky half-marathon.
** Technically I haven't actually run any half marathons yet. I have part run, part walk, part stagger, part complain loudly about chocolate though. Does that count?
*** I think I just made up that word.
Monday, 5 August 2013
My new BFF DRAFT
Went to see Chrissie Wellington up in London
Actually had a conversation with her
Training tips
Running one lap of the course
Setting a record for 1 mile
Actually had a conversation with her
Training tips
Running one lap of the course
Setting a record for 1 mile
Monday, 29 July 2013
My own Anniversary Games DRAFT
The short story. I finished! I didn't die!
That used to be enough. But now, rather frighteningly, it's not. I completed it last year in a time of 3:41. If I was going to do it this year, I had to beat that time. Or else, in my little one-track mind (well, I guess three-track), the entire year would have been for nothing, and I might as well have spent more time sitting on the sofa, eating curly wurlies*.
But where could I make the difference? I spent a good few days analysing last years results. I downloaded everyone's times into a spreadsheet, setup pivot tables, printed graphs, ran statistical analyses, conditionally formatted columns, you name it. My conclusion - in order to beat my time last year I had to go faster on the swim and/or bike and/or run and/or transitions. Yes, it took me a spreadsheet to work that out. Told you I was bad at mental maths.
The longer story. I finished! I didn't die! I beat last year's time!
There were a few things that I had forgotten about last year's race. Like the dreadful nerves that made me so tense and scared that when CS asked me to help with directions in the car I shouted at him "I can only just swim, bike and run. Don't ask me to navigate too!", and then promptly burst into tears.
That memory came flooding back when we had exactly the same conversation this year. Oh, how we laughed. Not.
The second memory came back around half way round the swim course, when I was sick in my mouth. I also remembered that - just like last year - my own sick tasted much better than the dock water.
The very long story. ie boring race report......
The Swim
Last year's time 42. This year's target 39:59 or faster. This year's time 40:02.
Gah. Fell at the first hurdle.
The Bike
Last year's time 88. This year's target 79:59 or faster. This year's time 72:59.
What can I say? New shoes!
The Run
Last year's time 71. This year's target 59:59 or faster. This year's time 58:35
Unbelievable. No, really unbelievable. The course had to be short.
* To be fair, I have spent more time sitting on the sofa, eating curly wurlies. Just don't tell anyone.
That used to be enough. But now, rather frighteningly, it's not. I completed it last year in a time of 3:41. If I was going to do it this year, I had to beat that time. Or else, in my little one-track mind (well, I guess three-track), the entire year would have been for nothing, and I might as well have spent more time sitting on the sofa, eating curly wurlies*.
But where could I make the difference? I spent a good few days analysing last years results. I downloaded everyone's times into a spreadsheet, setup pivot tables, printed graphs, ran statistical analyses, conditionally formatted columns, you name it. My conclusion - in order to beat my time last year I had to go faster on the swim and/or bike and/or run and/or transitions. Yes, it took me a spreadsheet to work that out. Told you I was bad at mental maths.
The longer story. I finished! I didn't die! I beat last year's time!
There were a few things that I had forgotten about last year's race. Like the dreadful nerves that made me so tense and scared that when CS asked me to help with directions in the car I shouted at him "I can only just swim, bike and run. Don't ask me to navigate too!", and then promptly burst into tears.
That memory came flooding back when we had exactly the same conversation this year. Oh, how we laughed. Not.
The second memory came back around half way round the swim course, when I was sick in my mouth. I also remembered that - just like last year - my own sick tasted much better than the dock water.
The very long story. ie boring race report......
The Swim
Last year's time 42. This year's target 39:59 or faster. This year's time 40:02.
Gah. Fell at the first hurdle.
The Bike
Last year's time 88. This year's target 79:59 or faster. This year's time 72:59.
What can I say? New shoes!
The Run
Last year's time 71. This year's target 59:59 or faster. This year's time 58:35
Unbelievable. No, really unbelievable. The course had to be short.
* To be fair, I have spent more time sitting on the sofa, eating curly wurlies. Just don't tell anyone.
Saturday, 27 July 2013
My Olympic legacy?
What a difference a year makes, eh?
Except it's not quite a year, and there's not much difference.
This time last year was the day before my own personal Olympics - the Virgin Active London Olympic Triathlon. Except this time last year was actually in September, delayed from its usual date because of some other sporting event in London being held in July 2012 - can't quite remember what it was.
Thanks to my last blog, I can remember exactly how I felt the day before my own personal Olympics - I wrote it all down here.
So, what's changed since then? How do I feel the day before my own personal Olympic legacy?
Well, I am proud to say that, unlike most of the British public, I have actually done more exercise since my last Olympics. It's still not enough, but is it ever? Nope, none of that talk for now - let's concentrate on the positives......
The swim
Last year I felt a bit like "Eric the Eel", but even slower. He was the bloke who swam the slowest ever 100m in the Olympics in a time of 1 min 52 seconds, and my record at that time was a measly 2 min 24 seconds. I am pleased to report that a couple of weeks ago I managed the same distance in 1 min 49 seconds. And I had witnesses. Get in!
The bike
New shoes! Need I say more? Probably, but I won't for now.
The run
I can now run 5k faster than Mo Farah can. Run 10k that is. Yes, I am now slightly faster than twice as slow as Mo. Just call me SloMo.
Put them altogether, throw in a couple of transitions, a new wetsuit, a stick of lubricant, and a multipack of curly wurlies, and what's the worst that could happen?
I'll tell you tomorrow.
In other news....
At the Anniversary games this weekend, Usain Bolt won the 100m without even trying, Mo Farah won the 3,000m in a British Record, and David Weir broke a few more records without even getting up. To top it off, Christine Onokajagoogoo actually won something too. No pressure, then.
Except it's not quite a year, and there's not much difference.
This time last year was the day before my own personal Olympics - the Virgin Active London Olympic Triathlon. Except this time last year was actually in September, delayed from its usual date because of some other sporting event in London being held in July 2012 - can't quite remember what it was.
Thanks to my last blog, I can remember exactly how I felt the day before my own personal Olympics - I wrote it all down here.
So, what's changed since then? How do I feel the day before my own personal Olympic legacy?
Well, I am proud to say that, unlike most of the British public, I have actually done more exercise since my last Olympics. It's still not enough, but is it ever? Nope, none of that talk for now - let's concentrate on the positives......
The swim
Last year I felt a bit like "Eric the Eel", but even slower. He was the bloke who swam the slowest ever 100m in the Olympics in a time of 1 min 52 seconds, and my record at that time was a measly 2 min 24 seconds. I am pleased to report that a couple of weeks ago I managed the same distance in 1 min 49 seconds. And I had witnesses. Get in!
The bike
New shoes! Need I say more? Probably, but I won't for now.
The run
I can now run 5k faster than Mo Farah can. Run 10k that is. Yes, I am now slightly faster than twice as slow as Mo. Just call me SloMo.
Put them altogether, throw in a couple of transitions, a new wetsuit, a stick of lubricant, and a multipack of curly wurlies, and what's the worst that could happen?
I'll tell you tomorrow.
In other news....
At the Anniversary games this weekend, Usain Bolt won the 100m without even trying, Mo Farah won the 3,000m in a British Record, and David Weir broke a few more records without even getting up. To top it off, Christine Onokajagoogoo actually won something too. No pressure, then.
Friday, 19 July 2013
Not all the gears. Still pretty clueless.
You know those lists declaring a random number of random things that you *must* do before you reach a random age? I hate them. I especially hate them when they have to be done before you die. Like maybe you can do them after you die? Ridiculous.
One of the reasons why I hate those stupid lists is because if I had one of those stupid lists I would list stupid things on it. Like cycling up Ditchling Beacon without stopping. Or crying. And then I would stupidly tell people. Like Inspirational Steve. Who would insist on coming with me to "help" by cycling behind me all the way and threatening to beat me with a stick if I was to even think about stopping. Or crying.
Let me introduce you to Ditchling Beacon in five "fun" facts.
The short story
I did it! I bashed that Beacon!
The medium story
I did it! I bashed that Beacon! I didn't even use my lowest gear!
The long story
My gears are broken, and have been ever since I got my new bike a year ago. My lowest gear doesn't work - I didn't even know it was there. Inspirational Steve kept telling me to drop down a gear to make it easier, and I kept wanting to punch him because I couldn't. That's when we realised that my geary twiddly thing wasn't geary or twiddly enough to go to the lowest gear. Oh, did we laugh? Well, one of us did. The other one collapsed in a heap, gasping the words "curly", "wurly" and "now".
The proof
One of the reasons why I hate those stupid lists is because if I had one of those stupid lists I would list stupid things on it. Like cycling up Ditchling Beacon without stopping. Or crying. And then I would stupidly tell people. Like Inspirational Steve. Who would insist on coming with me to "help" by cycling behind me all the way and threatening to beat me with a stick if I was to even think about stopping. Or crying.
Let me introduce you to Ditchling Beacon in five "fun" facts.
- It is one of the steepest roads in the South of England.
- It was part of the route of some French bike race in 2004, where it was not only classified as a climb, but also had a number after it.
- It features on the London to Brighton bike ride, and it's the main reason why I've never done the London to Brighton bike ride.
- It is a climb of over 150 metres along a stretch of road just under a mile long. That works out at an average gradient of just under 10%. And yes I had to use my calculator
- The lycra-clad speed freaks have a training session every year which involves going up and down Ditching Beacon as many times as possible in three hours. They call it "bashing the Beacon", and the record stands at 15 bashes. This year they have invited me along, and it's not just to hand out curly wurlies at the top.
- It's a mere couple of miles away from where I live.
- I can't do mental maths
The short story
I did it! I bashed that Beacon!
The medium story
I did it! I bashed that Beacon! I didn't even use my lowest gear!
The long story
My gears are broken, and have been ever since I got my new bike a year ago. My lowest gear doesn't work - I didn't even know it was there. Inspirational Steve kept telling me to drop down a gear to make it easier, and I kept wanting to punch him because I couldn't. That's when we realised that my geary twiddly thing wasn't geary or twiddly enough to go to the lowest gear. Oh, did we laugh? Well, one of us did. The other one collapsed in a heap, gasping the words "curly", "wurly" and "now".
The proof
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| Ditchling Beacon, as presented on Strava. So steep they categorised it three times. The KOM is Chris McNamara (surely not THE Chris McNamara?). I got up it in 8 mins 59 seconds and managed to rest for a whole second. |
Sunday, 14 July 2013
14th July - DRAFT notes
Slap on bottom for being so bad at updating blog over the last couple of months. Excuse is that I've been too busy training to write about training.
Stuff to talk about....
Cycling
Goal from last year ACHIEVED.
Beacon BUSTED!
NEW SHOES!
Puncture. Learning to fix a puncture. CO2 pump
Time Trial - no longer QOM, gah.
Bike porn - Bianchi
IOW with Mikey and his dad.
GOT OUT OF NEWHAVEN! Tour De France stuff (two days I did more than they did)
GOT OUT OF NEWHAVEN! Tour De France stuff (two days I did more than they did)
Running
Preston Park parkrun
P blinking B! How did THAT happen?
Goal from last year ACHIEVED. (Tri suit that matches my running shoes)
Swimming
Goal from last year ACHIEVED. Until realised that it was a 25 YARD pool, not 25 metres.
Jumping up a lane on Thursday session by blatantly cheating
Blowing bubbles?
Garmin and sea swimming
Eogan swimming
Volunteering - parkrun (BOLLARDS!) Aquathlon. Being given a free place in a 10k run for helping out. But whole point of helping out is to avoid actually having to take part.
Other news
Kittens - giving Priscilla away. Keeping Shouty McShouty, aka Boggle
Cooking - "Add a can of ratatouille....."
Body Balance.
Entered Vachery competition
Zurich
Strava
Sunday, 7 July 2013
Sun 7 July DRAFT
Time trial - with wine (oops). 7 minutes off PB
Triathlon with new wetsuit - cold. Run with Prestige
Parkrun 5k - insulted by Andy. Overtaken by an even-toed ungulate.
Sunday, 23 June 2013
Sunday 26 June - Draft
PB on parkrun
Strava QOM, setting challenges, etc. Get the Hell out of Newhaven?
In other news...... Remember Sidney and
Sidney sent an update which shows him having fun. At the end he said "Please don't come near me". This is because he had a tough time before coming to the Dogs Trust, and finds it difficult to trust humans. Poor thing.
Maddie also sent an update which also shows her having fun. With people. At the end she said "Please don't come near me" too. I looked her up on the Dogs Trust website - turns out that she is great with humans, including children, and is looking for a home. It's a sad state of affairs when your own sponsored dog doesn't want to see you.
Sunday, 16 June 2013
Sunday, 9 June 2013
First 2 weeks in June.... Draft
CS birthday - so did IS's triathlon. Swim was dreadful. Worst transition ever.
Other news - cats
Can't hug every cat. In my head for the whole of the BTRS swim.
Other news - cats
Can't hug every cat. In my head for the whole of the BTRS swim.
Tuesday, 28 May 2013
Vegas, again (DRAFT)
If I've just come back from a business trip to India, then surely it must be time for a holiday in Vegas by now. And as if by magic*, we found ourselves staying at a nice swanky hotel room in the Mirage.
As readers of this blog should know by now (ie me), I have another passion in life, and that is playing poker. And what better place to do that than in Vegas?
Unlike triathlon, I'm actually not that bad at poker. In fact I have actually won quite a bit. Unfortunately I've also spent all my winnings, mainly on my triathlon habit. Specifically on buying stuff that match my shoes. My name is Issi and I'm a Tri-aholic.
I won $200 in my first tournament, which I spent on a fantastic tri suit that matches my shoes.
The second tournament wasn't so good. I bubbled with AK offsuit when shortstacked. No, I don't know what that means either.
The third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth tournaments were a bit of a blur, and I don't remember that much about them to be honest. I do know that I bought a whole load more triathlon-related stuff without having to resort to a credit card once, so it couldn't have been bad. None of the items were a Bianchi so it couldn't have been that brilliant either.
I then won $200 on my last tournament, which I spent on some new running shoes. They're the wrong colour.
But I didn't just play poker and shop.
Improvement - training - swimming. 5k circuits. running to another state in another state.
As readers of this blog should know by now (ie me), I have another passion in life, and that is playing poker. And what better place to do that than in Vegas?
Unlike triathlon, I'm actually not that bad at poker. In fact I have actually won quite a bit. Unfortunately I've also spent all my winnings, mainly on my triathlon habit. Specifically on buying stuff that match my shoes. My name is Issi and I'm a Tri-aholic.
I won $200 in my first tournament, which I spent on a fantastic tri suit that matches my shoes.
The second tournament wasn't so good. I bubbled with AK offsuit when shortstacked. No, I don't know what that means either.
The third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth tournaments were a bit of a blur, and I don't remember that much about them to be honest. I do know that I bought a whole load more triathlon-related stuff without having to resort to a credit card once, so it couldn't have been bad. None of the items were a Bianchi so it couldn't have been that brilliant either.
I then won $200 on my last tournament, which I spent on some new running shoes. They're the wrong colour.
But I didn't just play poker and shop.
Improvement - training - swimming. 5k circuits. running to another state in another state.
All you can eat buffets followed by free yoga. Double wind-relieving posture not recommended.
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? (Tattoos, extra weight from buffets, foot injury). Football.
Poker. CS not lasting longer. Bubbled with AKo when shortstacked (no, I don't know what that means either). Finally CS did last longer. Finished slightly up on the poker. I finished slightly down, but it's the taking part, not the winning. As no poker player said. Ever.
Kurt lucky $20.
Run across the desert. Run across the hotels with lululemon athletica people.
* When I say "magic", I actually mean four grand.
Monday, 13 May 2013
How would you like your eggs in the morning?
Inspirational Kurt has started organising additional training sessions for those of us who are pretty much out of their depth at this triathlon lark, and that's before even getting into the water. To be honest, I wasn't particularly interested in joining these extra sessions, because I'd still be the slowest by far, and basically if I wanted to come last all the time I wouldn't have left any of my husbands.
But Kurt is clever. He knows that he can get me to agree to almost anything if it involves food, and that's why he always holds out chocolate at the finish line whenever I'm racing.
However, according to the latest "research", curly wurlies are not part of a balanced diet, even if you eat them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I'll take that with a pinch of salt. Although to be honest, I find that the salt doesn't really improve the flavour.
But Kurt had another trick up his sleeve - apparently he does a pretty mean fry-up. And when I say mean I'm not talking average. He promised the full works for anyone who got out of bed at stupid o'clock, cycled to Worthing & back (26 miles), ran to parkrun, sprinted round parkrun, and ran back to his place.
I took the car. I got a poached egg for breakfast.
But Kurt is clever. He knows that he can get me to agree to almost anything if it involves food, and that's why he always holds out chocolate at the finish line whenever I'm racing.
However, according to the latest "research", curly wurlies are not part of a balanced diet, even if you eat them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I'll take that with a pinch of salt. Although to be honest, I find that the salt doesn't really improve the flavour.
But Kurt had another trick up his sleeve - apparently he does a pretty mean fry-up. And when I say mean I'm not talking average. He promised the full works for anyone who got out of bed at stupid o'clock, cycled to Worthing & back (26 miles), ran to parkrun, sprinted round parkrun, and ran back to his place.
I took the car. I got a poached egg for breakfast.
Wednesday, 8 May 2013
The Anglo (not Indian) Duathlon Series
I arrived safe and sound back in Blighty (or should I say Brighty? As it's Brighton? No, never mind) and managed to clear my digestive system of all traces of mango just in time for the next race of the lycra-clad speed-freaks.
In other news...... Kittens, don't you just love them? If you don't, look away now. And probably for the next few weeks.
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| Me OFFICIALLY coming last in this race. Although I had Unghhhhh on the bike! |
In other news...... Kittens, don't you just love them? If you don't, look away now. And probably for the next few weeks.
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| Who cares how bad you are at triathlons when you've got cute kittens? |
Wednesday, 1 May 2013
The first (and last) ever Anglo-Indian Duathlon Series
I mentioned in my last blog post that all those lycra-clad speed-freaks were about to race their first triathlon of the season, and I couldn't be there because I was in India. I also said that I was a bit disappointed, which is a massive sign of progress.
So to make up for it, I did the course in the hotel gym in India. I came last, which is a massive sign of no progress whatsoever.
So to make up for it, I did the course in the hotel gym in India. I came last, which is a massive sign of no progress whatsoever.
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Sunday, 28 April 2013
India, again
It's got to be at least six months since I last blogged about avoiding training in India. That can only mean one thing - another trip is upon me. Gah.
But there has been some progress. For example it's the first of the lycra-clad speed-freak triathlon series tonight in Brighton, and I'm going to miss it because I'm stuck out here. I would have been delighted, but actually I'm disappointed.
It also means that I have almost exclusive use of a pool, and an encouraging fan base. Last year I overheard a woman complain "How can she swim so fast when she is so fat?" to her husband. And yes, I took it as a compliment. This year someone said directly to my face "You are very swift for a large girl". Which is definitely progress in my book.
And, it's mango season! This was the menu from the local restaurant. It didn't change all week. Highlights included a new variety of mango called "mongo", an interesting take on an English classic ("Mango, bread and butter pudding" which was gluten and dairy free, ie didn't have any bread or butter. Or any pudding for that matter), a drink even worse than Indian wine (Aam Ka Panna), and an unexpected spontaneous mango-themed colonic irrigation on the flight back.
But there has been some progress. For example it's the first of the lycra-clad speed-freak triathlon series tonight in Brighton, and I'm going to miss it because I'm stuck out here. I would have been delighted, but actually I'm disappointed.
It also means that I have almost exclusive use of a pool, and an encouraging fan base. Last year I overheard a woman complain "How can she swim so fast when she is so fat?" to her husband. And yes, I took it as a compliment. This year someone said directly to my face "You are very swift for a large girl". Which is definitely progress in my book.
And, it's mango season! This was the menu from the local restaurant. It didn't change all week. Highlights included a new variety of mango called "mongo", an interesting take on an English classic ("Mango, bread and butter pudding" which was gluten and dairy free, ie didn't have any bread or butter. Or any pudding for that matter), a drink even worse than Indian wine (Aam Ka Panna), and an unexpected spontaneous mango-themed colonic irrigation on the flight back.
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Thursday, 25 April 2013
Tonight's excuse for not training.....
.... is the best yet. Little Scratchy huffed and puffed and blew three little kittens out tonight. We weren't expecting her to drop for another couple of weeks, and had a bit of a panic about what to do. Luckily the internet came to the rescue. Even luckier, Scratchy knew just what to do without having to google anything once.
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| From right to left - Boris, Doris and Forrest |
Sunday, 21 April 2013
The Bluebell 10k Trail
Except it was not blue and there were no bells. However, of course there were unexpected hills.
The first plan was to cycle there (around 25km), run the 10k, and then cycle back home again. The second plan was to stay in bed the whole time. In the end I compromised with myself and got a lift from Jenny the Hedgehog (in the "Sonic" sense, not prickly).
It was a good run. I can't tell that by how I felt, as I'm pretty sure that I thought I was going to die the whole way round. I can't tell that by the way I fell away from Sonic before the first and only water stop. I can't tell from the supercomputer on my wrist which kept telling me to try harder. No, I can tell because I managed to stay with Jacko the whole way. In fact I took him out on the last uphill, and finished 10 seconds ahead. Go, Issi!
The first plan was to cycle there (around 25km), run the 10k, and then cycle back home again. The second plan was to stay in bed the whole time. In the end I compromised with myself and got a lift from Jenny the Hedgehog (in the "Sonic" sense, not prickly).
It was a good run. I can't tell that by how I felt, as I'm pretty sure that I thought I was going to die the whole way round. I can't tell that by the way I fell away from Sonic before the first and only water stop. I can't tell from the supercomputer on my wrist which kept telling me to try harder. No, I can tell because I managed to stay with Jacko the whole way. In fact I took him out on the last uphill, and finished 10 seconds ahead. Go, Issi!
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| Results from the Bluebell 10k Trail. Sonic finished 175th. I finished 189th. A full 10 seconds ahead of Jacko ! |
Sunday, 14 April 2013
This time next year.....
..... And I mean it.
This time next year, I won't be watching the Brighton Marathon, waving and clapping like a moron on speed. No, I will be doing it, running and moaning like a zombie on painkillers. And I will bring my own bloody chocolate.
This time next year, I won't be watching the Brighton Marathon, waving and clapping like a moron on speed. No, I will be doing it, running and moaning like a zombie on painkillers. And I will bring my own bloody chocolate.
Sunday, 7 April 2013
The Sussex Half Marathon
This was the official one. The one I'd signed up for just after completing my first 10k race with Sis (Note to self - once you finish a race do NOT sign up for another one, no matter how invincible you feel). The one I was aiming to complete in under 2:30. The one I even had a training plan for.
It was also the one that I signed up for before I did any research, other than google the words "Sussex", "half", "marathon"* and "free mars bars". What I should have done was add the words "horrible", "hilly" and "hell no".
It is billed as the hilliest course in England, and they weren't kidding. CS, LOR and I drove the route the day before, and we managed to stall the car going up one of the hills. Between shrieks of horror, sobs of terror and stalling of engines, I squeaked "I don't think I can do this". CS is a man of few words, but when he speaks, you should listen. He spoke. I wasn't listening. He spoke again. "Of course you can".
So with a certain amount of fear, a lot of resentment towards CS and twice the lethal dose of Imodium in my system (don't ask), I turned up for the race the next day. I was terrified, but I consoled myself with the promise of free mars bars at every feeding station.
Just before the race I bumped into one of the lycra-clad speed-freaks who cheerfully announced that he was going for the full marathon (twice the course, twice the hills), and was considering the ultra (even more course, even more hills). I would have punched him really hard if I wasn't conserving all my energy for those pesky hills. And for carrying my weight in free mars bars up said pesky hills.
So you can imagine my disappointment when I got to the first feeding station. I asked for a mars bar and they gave me a kit kat**. Yes, you heard correctly, a kit kat. Last time I checked, a kit kat doesn't count as a mars bar. Not even close. I asked where all the mars bars were and was told that they ran out a few minutes ago. I childishly giggled at the idea of a mars bars running anywhere, and the thought of catching up with at least one of them spurred me on to the next feeding station.
Same story three miles later. I didn't laugh at the idea of mars bars running away this time. Instead I looked at the mound of melting kit kats with suspicion. But I was assured that there were mars bars out there, all I had to do was catch up with them at the next feeding station.
Guess what? Four miles later I was greeted with a lovely lady begging people to take some kit kats. She had a mountain of soggy kit kats behind her which were beginning to mould into one giant kit kat under the heat. It was at this point that I suspected that the person whose only job it was to buy the mars bars had screwed up in a big way. I might have said that out loud, I can't be sure. I do know that the lovely lady said "What's the difference? Chocolate is chocolate isn't it?". It took me at least 46 seconds to explain three main reasons why a kit kat isn't the same as a mars bar. I'm sure I would have come up with at least six if I wasn't so hungry.
I finished the course in 2:30:45. I had trained for a sub 2:30 time, but I'd neglected to train for the arguing with lovely ladies about the relative merits of mars bars over kit kats.
And yes, I've already signed up for next year's race.
* Just for the record, the only time I have or will ever google the word "marathon" will be after the words "half" or "how to avoid running a". Even if they guarantee free mars bars.
** Kit kats have gluten in them. I can't eat gluten, no matter how much Imodium I have in my system (don't ask)
It was also the one that I signed up for before I did any research, other than google the words "Sussex", "half", "marathon"* and "free mars bars". What I should have done was add the words "horrible", "hilly" and "hell no".
It is billed as the hilliest course in England, and they weren't kidding. CS, LOR and I drove the route the day before, and we managed to stall the car going up one of the hills. Between shrieks of horror, sobs of terror and stalling of engines, I squeaked "I don't think I can do this". CS is a man of few words, but when he speaks, you should listen. He spoke. I wasn't listening. He spoke again. "Of course you can".
So with a certain amount of fear, a lot of resentment towards CS and twice the lethal dose of Imodium in my system (don't ask), I turned up for the race the next day. I was terrified, but I consoled myself with the promise of free mars bars at every feeding station.
Just before the race I bumped into one of the lycra-clad speed-freaks who cheerfully announced that he was going for the full marathon (twice the course, twice the hills), and was considering the ultra (even more course, even more hills). I would have punched him really hard if I wasn't conserving all my energy for those pesky hills. And for carrying my weight in free mars bars up said pesky hills.
So you can imagine my disappointment when I got to the first feeding station. I asked for a mars bar and they gave me a kit kat**. Yes, you heard correctly, a kit kat. Last time I checked, a kit kat doesn't count as a mars bar. Not even close. I asked where all the mars bars were and was told that they ran out a few minutes ago. I childishly giggled at the idea of a mars bars running anywhere, and the thought of catching up with at least one of them spurred me on to the next feeding station.
Same story three miles later. I didn't laugh at the idea of mars bars running away this time. Instead I looked at the mound of melting kit kats with suspicion. But I was assured that there were mars bars out there, all I had to do was catch up with them at the next feeding station.
Guess what? Four miles later I was greeted with a lovely lady begging people to take some kit kats. She had a mountain of soggy kit kats behind her which were beginning to mould into one giant kit kat under the heat. It was at this point that I suspected that the person whose only job it was to buy the mars bars had screwed up in a big way. I might have said that out loud, I can't be sure. I do know that the lovely lady said "What's the difference? Chocolate is chocolate isn't it?". It took me at least 46 seconds to explain three main reasons why a kit kat isn't the same as a mars bar. I'm sure I would have come up with at least six if I wasn't so hungry.
I finished the course in 2:30:45. I had trained for a sub 2:30 time, but I'd neglected to train for the arguing with lovely ladies about the relative merits of mars bars over kit kats.
And yes, I've already signed up for next year's race.
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** Kit kats have gluten in them. I can't eat gluten, no matter how much Imodium I have in my system (don't ask)
Sunday, 31 March 2013
The wrong gear, still no idea.
As I reported last week, I paid good money to be insulted whilst half naked. This week I decided to not pay any money, not to be insulted, and wear lots of clothes. What to do?
There's a lovely true gentleman called Unnnngggghhhh**, who has just started organising free cycling time trials on Tuesday nights.
Hmmmmm.... Gentleman = no insults. Free = no money. Cold March evening = lots of clothes.
But, really, what to do?
Oh. alright then.
I had successfully avoided previous time trials by either;
a) forgetting about them (first week),
b) forgetting my bike (second week),
c) forgetting my helmet (third week), or
d) forgetting to take any proper carbs beforehand (last week).
This week however, I didn't forget any of those so I had no excuse.
However I wouldn't be me if I didn't forget something. Bike? Check. Helmet? Check. Carbs? Check. Clothes? Check. Change of clothes? Ooops.
So I completed my first ever time trial in a mini skirt and high heels.
In other news....
I am now an auntie! And a soon-to-be-granny! The first one I was expecting (well, more like my sister-in-law - she did all of the expecting). The second one came as a bit of a shock. But it's official - Scratchy has gotten herself all up duff, the little slut. Yay! Kittens!
** It's one of those funny Irish names that is never pronounced how you spell it. The closest I can get to describing it is a sort of "Unnnngggghhhh". Which is handy as it was pretty much all I could say at the end of the time trial.
There's a lovely true gentleman called Unnnngggghhhh**, who has just started organising free cycling time trials on Tuesday nights.
Hmmmmm.... Gentleman = no insults. Free = no money. Cold March evening = lots of clothes.
But, really, what to do?
Oh. alright then.
I had successfully avoided previous time trials by either;
a) forgetting about them (first week),
b) forgetting my bike (second week),
c) forgetting my helmet (third week), or
d) forgetting to take any proper carbs beforehand (last week).
This week however, I didn't forget any of those so I had no excuse.
However I wouldn't be me if I didn't forget something. Bike? Check. Helmet? Check. Carbs? Check. Clothes? Check. Change of clothes? Ooops.
So I completed my first ever time trial in a mini skirt and high heels.
In other news....
I am now an auntie! And a soon-to-be-granny! The first one I was expecting (well, more like my sister-in-law - she did all of the expecting). The second one came as a bit of a shock. But it's official - Scratchy has gotten herself all up duff, the little slut. Yay! Kittens!
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| Scratchy, the slut. |
** It's one of those funny Irish names that is never pronounced how you spell it. The closest I can get to describing it is a sort of "Unnnngggghhhh". Which is handy as it was pretty much all I could say at the end of the time trial.
Sunday, 24 March 2013
I didn't come here to be insulted....
There are (at least) three parts to a triathlon. From the way I've been harping on about the running bit, I think I had almost forgotten about the bike bit. I know I completely forgot about the swim bit.
Until an offer popped into my FB feed from some people called "Brighton Tri Club". I hadn't heard of them before. I knew "Brighton Phoenix Triathlon", "Brighton Tri Race Series" and "Brighton Triathlon Race Series". So who are these people? Splitters?
But it was an offer I couldn't refuse. Well, I could, but I shouldn't, so I didn't. It was a ten week course in how to become a better swimmer for £30. That's not £30 each week, but £30 in total. That's..... <reaches for calculator> £3.33 per week*
This offer went on to say, and I am quoting word for word (actually cutting and pasting)...
"The club welcomes triathletes of ALL ABILITIES and we provide a great environment for improvement, but we do ask that you are able to swim 200m (8 lengths) front crawl without stopping. However, it doesn’t have to be fast or pretty!"
I liked the bit about all abilities. So much so that I made it red and bold. So much so that I didn't feel at all ashamed at filling in the application form honestly, especially when it came to the bit where it asked me "exactly how crap are you?" but in number format... "If you can manage to swim 100m all in one go without drowning, how long does it take you?". Well, I've been desperately trying to swim 10 lengths in less than 6 minutes and I'm getting very close. That means that I should be able to work out how long it takes to swim 4 lengths without reaching for a calculator......<reaches for fingers.....ok, not possible to reach for own fingers, was actually trying to get calculator, but now I've been caught out>.... um..... ("Show your workings!") 6/10 x 4 = 2.4 minutes. Round up to 2mins 30 to allow for almost drowning part way through.
So when I got myself to that first lesson I wasn't immediately filled with dread. Until the other swimmers turned up. I recognised some of them from the Brighton Tri Group, the Group of Brighton Triathletes, and even the People's Front of Judea. And they were all very very fast. They should have been giving the lessons. Dread began to nip at my toes.
We then had to get changed and come back to the pool. In my absolute delight at doing mental maths I had completely forgotten that I had to squeeze myself into a swimming costume in front of other people. Dread slinked its way up to my (exposed) cellulite.
We were then all lined up by the side of the pool, like the von Trapp family singers. The captain, oops, I mean trainer, asked us for rank, file and medical histories. He got to me and we both sighed. I told him about the asthma and the Type 1 diabetes. He said that he knew IronPeople with worse and they didn't use it as an excuse. My ego started wimpering.
We were then split into different groups, depending on what time we had put for our 100metre dash. The nazi officer, oops, I mean trainer came to me and, I swear, I'm not making this up, he said "are you SURE you mean 2min 30 seconds? That's really slow, you know". My ego left the building without even getting wet.
The rest of me stayed and doggy paddled away furiously. I imagined I was punching the trainer, and I beat my personal best.
* No I haven't gone bonkers. And neither has my calculator. I'm not going next week because if I wanted to pay someone to insult me, I'll go visit one of my ex husbands. Actually, that's not completely true. It's my anniversary next week - I almost forgot. If only I could remember exactly what it was that I'm supposed to be celebrating and with who. I do know that it will involve curly wurlies and absolutely no swimming whatsoever.
Sunday, 17 March 2013
When the going gets tough...
... the tough get going... by cab.
Yes, listener(s). The inevitable happened. I did too much last weekend, and so suffered lots this week. I couldn't even get on my bike.
It wasn't just me though. It snowed too, which meant that the whole world came to a stop. Well, if they can't cope with a teensy weensy bit of snow, then I don't have to feel so bad for struggling with another dodgy infection "down there". So I didn't. Instead I took it as an opportunity to carb-load as much as I could in the form of curly wurlies dipped in chocolate philadelphia. I'm very very very good at that.
Normal service will be resumed as soon as I know what normal is.
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