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?
Saturday, 19 October 2013
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.
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