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!

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.

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.

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.

All the gear, but no idea DRAFT

to parkrun
then 25 miles with Mr Thorpedo

Garmin analysis, Strava.  Thing that makes noises in my head when I swim.

If a tree falls in the forest.....

... And nobody hears it, does it make a noise?

Or put it another way.....

If an Issi runs a Sweatshop 5k run in a record-breaking 27 mins 34 seconds but forgets to switch her Garmin on, does anyone believe her?

Well, it doesn't matter, because a week later, the exact same Issi ran the exact same Sweatshop 5k run in the exact same time, and her Garmin captured every single aching, panting, swearing step.  

The gospel according to Garmin - I ran 5k in 27:34, and my heart exploded.  Again.

Putting the ISSI into ChrISSIe DRAFT

I planned to go for a 17k run yesterday or a 10k run today.  I did neither.  I did however meet up with a few of my heros instead - Inspirational Steve, Inspirational Kurt and Inspirational Chrissie Wellington.  That's even better in my book.  (Or should I say blog?)

Inspirational Steve and Bionic Kay (XXX) brought their adorable but dribbly dog Murphy down to Brighton on Saturday and we met up for a nice walk along the seafront.  The world is a better place when you have a dog with you, no matter how much he dribbles.  It was a lovely afternoon, made even lovelier by the complete lack of training of any sort whatsoever.

Sunday was the Triathlon show at Sandown racecourse.  This featured a 10k race around said racecourse, and also an audience with Chrissie Wellington.  But the organisers had decided to put them both on at the same time.  I had a choice to make.  It's probably the easiest decision I've made this year (except that time when I had to choose between a curly wurly and no curly wurly)

Before I met Chrissie, I bumped into Inspirational Kurt.  He is the one who encourages me to sprint at the end of a triathon by holding up a toffee crisp for me at the finish line.  Can you get more encouragement than that?

Well, yes you can.  And it comes from Chrissie Wellington.   Not only is she a superb athlete, but she is also a superb human being.  I've read her autobiography several times, and it's brilliant.  I've got her audiofuel mp3 training tracks, and they work a treat. She repeats encouraging things like "You can DO it!", "You are training to be the best athlete you can be!", "You can do more than you think!" and my personal favourite - "Only 30 seconds to go!".  I like to think of them as the encouraging voices in my head, and I try to remember them whenever doubt sets in.  Which is a lot of the time.

Meeting Kurt was a lovely surprise and we had a great conversation about all things triathlon.  Meeting Chrissie was also a lovely surprise, but I appeared to have a bit of a brain freeze.  As a result we had a strange conversation about, well, to be honest I'm not really sure.  It went something like this.....

Chrissie Wellington (CW) - "Hi!"
Me - "Ooooh!  This is more exciting than meeting Duran Duran!*"
Awkward pause
CW - "What's your name?"
Awkward pause.  What's my name?  Oh yes.
Me - "Issi!  Oooh, just like Chrissie!  But without the C. Or the H. Oh and no R or E either!"
Awkward pause.  Then Chrissie started smiling
Me - "Thank you for being the voices in my head"
Awkward pause.  Then Chrissie smiled some more.
Me - "I've got diabetes and am trying to complete a half-ironman.  Inspirational Kurt is making me do it"
Awkward pause.  Then Chrissie started grinning.
I suddenly remembered one of the inspirational things that Chrissie says - "If it hurts, smile.  If it's painful, smile some more.  If it's agony, grin"
Me - "Shall I stop talking now?"
CW - "Please!"

CS took a photo before Chrissie called security.

Who has the biggest grin?  Chrissie.  Who has the biggest bum? Issi.  Who has a circle round their name?  ChrISSIe!

* I haven't actually met Duran Duran

XXX Need to explain Bionic Kay


In other news......  There were amazing things to see at the Triathlon show, including fantastic cheekphones (earphones on your cheek), arm and leg compression supports that don't cost an arm or a leg, and a portable swimming pool. Want, want, want.  Got, got, whimper.

An "Endless Pool" with optional spa & weather, starting from £18,000+VAT.
Looks like I chose the wrong month to quit my job

XXX Need to explain Bionic Kay