Alive

Now, apologies for the lack of update. I promise one is coming soon.

Shakey and I survived a very cold, windy swim on Saturday morning and we will update you as soon as I have a moment. In the meantime, however, I have discovered that I can drink pints of Pimms jolly fast. Training started again yesterday with a cycle that started in the dry and ended in a biblical rainstorm and this morning I ran into a large wheelie bin. It didn't move - I think I may have had a Pimms (or Guinness)based episode where I momentarily lost my way.

Final update coming soon.

The "Not So" Great Weegie Dook

OK, so you get the message like I did on Tuesday night.  The final step, and the only guaranteed bling, of the challenge has been postponed.  Now given that Strathclyde Park is effectively a large Weegie puddle I had foolishly made the assumption that blue-green algae would be an enhancement rather than a hazard.   Who would have known that a little bit of plant life was a greater hazard than lightly diluted Buckie, shopping trollies, pit-bull jobbies and any of a selection of hoodies and shellies lobbing stale Gregs scotch pies at us?  But there you go - the Great Scottish Swim is postponed with no revised date forthcoming.

Now, for a one armed swimmer the Great Swim was always going to be like the ride into Paris in the Tour de France - a valedictory trip sipping champers from a flute, enjoying the crowds and stepping onto the podium to pick up a large piece of Jim'll Fix It style bling.  But what it was really about was rounding off the challenge as a trilogy for a bit of symmetry, having a swim with a great mate and kicking off a 3 day bender.  So why let a bit of west coast plant life change the plan?

So Shakey and I, Pam and Ma and Da Shakey are heading to the hills on Saturday morning to finish the challenge.  Instead of risking life and limb with cyanobacteria in Motherwell we will head to the rather more genteel Balerno and face down irate anglers and liberate their brown trout.  The revised venue will be away from the razzmataz and glitz and instead we will head into the subdued waters of Threipmuir Reservoir in the Pentlands where we will don the rubber suits for the final swim of the season and complete the mile in front of an adoring public of three, 20 angry anglers and a couple of scabby dugs.

For those of you thinking "I can swim 64 lengths of the pool so what's the fuss?" you need to understand the difference between open water swimming and pool swimming.  As Great Swim say "No walls, no lanes, no chlorine"........or alternatively, "no visibility whatsoever, no sensation in the extremities, no desire to think about what is below" - true but not so catchy.  It can be viciously cold, no matter how experienced you are you can have anxiety attacks and you become convinced that everything that you touch in the deep, black water wants to eat you. 

It is only fair that I let on now that I have been teaching Shakey to swim for less than a year and when we first started lessons she couldn't put her face in the water.  The Great Scottish Swim was always our target event and so now why should we let anything get in the way?  Not even a nervous swimmer commiting herself to water with the only support being from a one-armed, fatigued, half-ironman and no rescue boats.  I managed to get Shakey to come out of denial for 10 minutes to type a few words on her open water experiences so far.  To be clear she is a paddy and "feck" is not an obscenity - in fact, you can say it in front of your ma.

Prior to January of this year the only dip I ever took in water was in the bath and even then I generally tried to not get my hair wet. Now, it’s not that I’m afraid of water, I’m afraid of drowning (And for those that say it’s the most peaceful way to go….how the feck do you know that?!?). I quite like taking on new challenges and as I’m fairly fond of running and like the odd spinning class, triathlons seemed the next logical step (although in hindsight spending a couple of hours a week trying to keep your legs going in time to the theme tune from Rocky is probably not the best preparation of strapping myself onto a road bike and playing chicken with traffic). Clearly not being able to swim or even stick my head under the water was a tiny obstacle but sure how hard could it be to learn??? Very is the answer to that.

I considered going to professional swimming lessons but apparently I breach my local pools class restrictions, i.e. I’m not a 3 foot tall, 5 year old and they don’t make armbands in my size, so I was forced to take up Stumpy on his offer of lessons. After years of hearing him regale stories of his past swimming glories (modesty is not something he has mastered yet) and boasting that he could turn any monkey into a swimmer (hahahahahaha – he hadn’t seen me in a pool yet!!) it was time to put the self-proclaimed legend to the test. Lessons were to take place in Cowdenbeath Leisure Centre (and they think we're scared of blue-green algae!) with the goal being a pool triathlon in Dalkeith, an open water triathlon in Ayr and an open water mile swim in some loch in Glasgow in August. On paper it all seemed fairly manageable…. in reality I should have been sectioned. Swimming is all about coordination and grace, and it is now apparent that I have neither. Coordinating arms and legs, breathing, dodging 10 year olds dive bombing, dodging retirees doing aqua-cise in tiny red speedos, dodging couples in the throes of passion (Cowdenbeath pool is a date night hotspot) all the while trying desperately not to drown made for a very stressful Monday night for me and hilarious one for Stumpy. But after a few months of thrashing about , I could finally get in to the nice warm (I repeat WARM) pool, stick my head under the water AND open my eyes, and do a few hundred metres of breaststroke without needing the Baywatch wannabes to drag me out of the water. Although I will admit to contemplating faking drowning on the nights when the fit young men were on duty.

So first up was the beginner’s triathlon in Dalkeith. This consisted of a 450m pool swim, 10km cycle and 5km run. All in all a successful day out and I managed to get through the swim with a reasonable amount of dignity and maintaining the feeling in my extremities. Onto preparing for the Ayr triathlon where it became apparent that there was a fundamental flaw with the training regime…. I did it in a nice WARM pool. Now I foolishly kept telling myself that if anything swimming in open water would actually be easier than in a nice WARM pool as there is no chlorine or belly flopping children to avoid. I can convince myself of anything if I set my mind to it, like for example that blonde is my natural hair colour. Oh how wrong can one person be? In the week before the event I finally decided to play along with Stumpy, mainly just to shut him up ranting about it, and buy a wetsuit and take a dip in open water. Sweet Jesus it wasn’t pleasant. First off there’s the shame of having to go out in public clad neck to ankle in rubber, which by the way is not a flattering look for anyone, and if I had of realised the extent of the shame I would have stuck with eating lettuce leaves in the run up to the outing (and in fact that would probably have allowed me to fit into the first wetsuit that I had delivered!). Then there’s the walking on rocks and all sorts of slimy sh!te to get into the arctic waters. And then there’s the awful sensation of the water trickling into your wetsuit…. think stone cold shower multiplied a million times over. Now when I initially went in I was surprisingly calm. But then I was made to stick my head under and open my eyes; now there was feck all point to that as I couldn’t actually see anything. Where were the nice lights lining the bottom??? Thereafter followed a brief panic attack when I couldn’t see or touch the bottom and all sorts of plant and animal life came up to meet me from the depths. It’s safe to say if I had known there would be no bling (i.e. medals) at the Ayr tri I wouldn’t have shown up for it after this experience but, to be honest, I’ll do anything for a trinket. Thankfully Stumpy talked me round and the moment passed. After that the water seemed to warm up a bit (although the look on Stumpy’s face suggested he had something to do with that) and after splashing around a bit we headed to the shore for Pam’s photocall with the ducks. So once again I was back to fooling myself and I was feeling pretty comfortable about the upcoming trip to Ayr. I’m an idiot.

As we’ve both said previously, and I generally don’t like to labour a point (hahahaha), it was freezing!!!! I mean toe curling, blood chilling, numb extremities, can someone please chuck me a hot water bottle to strap it to myself freezing. Even the hardened triathletes (i.e. the ones with the fancy bikes I considered licking) were shivering. Unlike the warm water in Loch Ore the river didn’t appear to heat up and again I questioned my sanity in thinking pool training was sufficient for a dip in the great outdoors. After all this you would think I’d have learned my lesson and accepted that swimming is not my forte, but I’m just not that bright. So on Saturday even though the good folk of the Great Scottish Swim won’t be joining us I’m going to complete my swimming challenge and drag myself through the water for 1 mile. Here’s hoping there’s no ducks so Pam can concentrate on dialling 999.

I did warn her we need to practice in open water to "toughen up".  Did she listen??

The Daily Record Ironman Blog (which is well worth a bookmark) is written by a fella called James Moncur who raced Aberfeldy at the weekend.  You can get his alternative (ie faster) perspective on the race here.  He tries hard but I don't think he does injuries as well as I do.

http://blogs.dailyrecord.co.uk/ironman/

This is the penultimate post on the blog before you have to go back to the Daily Mail so I will give it one last push for sponsorship.  I am very proud and grateful to have raised £3235 in sponsorship for the Anaphylaxis Campaign.  I have spoken to the charity this week to learn a bit more about what they will do practically with the cash that has been raised. 

Education and Awareness.  Helping families that have to live with allergies, educating those that supply hospital food to patients who are particularly at risk of allergic reactions and missing nutritional benefits and attending events and exhibitions to raise awareness

Support for Vunerable Groups.  Which includes developing on-line training for health professionals, pre-school and nursery staff, research work into the particular risks of allergies in the diets of ethnic minority groups and working with older children and younger adults who face a series of challenges as they begin to take responsibility for managing their own allergy.

A lot of people have called and written with support because they have been directly touched by allergies and they have little support and very little public awareness to their plight.  Hopefully, we have done our little bit to help.

A Day in the Life of a Marshal (or - don't mess with me Arse!)

Loads of people have been asking me how I am feeling after the weekend.  The stock answer at the moment is surprisingly good.  I had an awful night's sleep on Sunday as muscle pain set in and the warm glow of a day in the sun came became a towering inferno on my face and shoulders.  But by today, three days on, the legs are pretty much feeling back to normal, the shoulders are back to normal (which isn't actually that good) and the sunburn has cooled down - but I do know that this is a false dawn as after the marathon I had a good week and then a really deep fatigue set in just after I stopped eating everything that wasn't nailed down.  For those that haven't seen me since - I did actually look fine 10 minutes after I finished as this photo testifies.

Hopefully, this weekend all being well I will get out on the bike and spin my legs a bit in between bouts of binge drinking.

Anyway, over to power mad Pam in this post for a dark insight into her day on Sunday.......

My marshalling duties actually began the day before the event when I ran the 2 hour slot for team registration just before the race briefing at 8pm. Earlier on in the day when DC had come to register there was an annoying rude small man, we will call him Arse because it wasn’t actually Dougie, having a go because the race route wasn’t posted on the wall. I took an instant dislike to him and this, unfortunately, wasn’t the last I would see of him. It was astonishing how many people asked where the start was or what the route was. How do these people manage to organize themselves to train or even get themselves to the registration point? Have they not looked at the route beforehand on their computers?? Anyway Arse reappeared asking how long the race briefing would last and when I replied an hour I thought he was going to explode. I actually had no idea how long the race briefing was going to last and had it been anyone else I might have gone and asked but the manner in which he asked made the words “an hour” just came out my mouth. Turns out I was pretty close. That was my inner marshal coming to the fore!

Just as the race briefing was starting and we had packed up registration, a very harassed giant girl flew through the door like a whirling dervish asking if she was too late and where to go and what to do and what was her name etc etc blah blah… I sent her to the briefing while we dug out her number and found her a swim cap. I took her stuff to her at the briefing and she was way less harassed by this point, very thankful and not remotely like Arse. She was also very tall and toned a bit like an Amazon!

 The eye candy was alright but the guys that do this Ironman malarkey are all pretty wirey. DC does not yet fall into this category and I would rather he didn’t get like that, hence the amount of food I had squirreled away throughout the day to feed to him at the finish line!!

 To be up at 6.30am on a Sunday morning – now, I am a dedicated wife! I was told I was helping somewhere at the swim start so just had to turn up and there I was given my bright shiny marshal bib. A uniform! Oh the power I had now! My alter ego Pam the Powerful/Organiser/Controller arrived in Kenmore with force. I was assigned to Transition 1 (T1 to us marshalling types) where all the bikes were to ensure that the swimmers ran the whole way round the barriers before getting to their bikes rather than ducking under the barrier and, as a marshal, I can assure you that there are several good reasons for this. One is so that swimmers don’t get mowed down by cyclists making their exits. A second reason is that the blue matting that is laid down for the runners to run up is fine in bare feet but is very slippy for anything else. I’ll come back to this.

 So as I was not needed until the swimmers were coming out of the water I was able to watch the start. It was a bit chaotic but thankfully the mist had lifted a bit and you could see the buoy at the far side of the loch. I saw DC enter the water and take his first few strokes and then I lost him (from vision and not to the sea!). I could have been sick I was so nervous. I don’t know why. I know he has done all the training he needs to, well, apart from the swimming on account of the broken shoulder. It was at this point I was glad I have volunteered to marshal to take my mind off the madness.

I made my way up to the transition area and waited for the first swimmer to come out. The first few bounced up the car park but their faces were very red from the cold water. Unbelievably, a couple of people contemplated ducking under MY barrier but I shouted at them and waved my marshalling pencil and clipboard in a menacing fashion and they sensibly thought better of it. They will thank me later for not getting a 15 minute penalty!

 DC appeared around about the time I was expecting so I had no long period of waiting to see him. He looked fine to me but as you will have read he was a bit dazed and confused. I thankfully did not know this and the nausea subsided a bit. Off he went on the cycle. Just don’t fall off.

 A good 10 minutes after DC and my little nemesis Arse appeared. Obviously swimming was not his thing. He also looked ridiculous in a wet suit so I had a bit of a chuckle to myself. Towards the end one older guy appeared with his bike on the wrong side. As he was coming towards me I asked/ordered him to get over the other side which he foolishly and petulantly ignored. His bike was on the blue mat and just slid away from him and rather than let go his hands went with his bike and the words “Jesus F’in Christ” were screamed at me as he hit the deck!! Classy, clearly he missed the part of the pre-race briefing where they said to be nice to marshals. Thankfully not many people were like this.

 I also had to ensure that the swimmers in the teams had their wet suits off before the cyclists could start off. Also no public was allowed in this area. One of the advantages of me volunteering was that I got to go into areas where I wouldn’t have normally been able to go, and so I was able to get some photo’s of DC in both transition areas. I didn’t even have to say “do you know who I am??”.

 The last lady to exit the water was part of a team and was in the water for 1 hour 10 minutes, which is an awfully long time in that temperature. She was in bits, a bit unsteady on her feet and looked like she was going to be sick. A friend of hers was running along side her for encouragement but I stopped her at the entrance. What power! The friend begged me to let her in as she was worried she was going to faint and although rules are rules I showed clemency and relented. Her cyclist team mate headed off. I then did something that I am slightly embarrassed about. The power had gone to my head. Some kids were trying to get in and I stopped them too – this is a dangerous enough place for a professional marshal like me never mind children!. One of them was nearly crying. Turns out it was the children of the fainting woman and they just wanted to see that their Mum was alright. As there were no bikes left I was relieved of my duties and could stop being such a Nazi!! Ooops. Just following orders! Snot bubbles all round as the kids ran to their mum.

 I helped pack up all the carnage in the transiton area. There were towels and wet suits everywhere and you just had to work out which ones went in what bags. We also had the pleasure of disposing of all the half eaten bananas, energy gels and yoghurts. Hands washed from all the pishy wet suits (DC had some difficulty in this department in the cold water but others obviously didn’t. Yes they do pee in them and you could smell it!) Then it was bacon rolls with my marshalling colleagues. It was at this point that we heard that the council had lifted 3 vehicles for being illegally and insensitively parked on the race route. Some celebrations and a weird little marshal dance then ensued!

 We headed back to the school in Aberfeldy to transition 2 (or T2 as the pros call it). The first athletes (ie the winners) were expected about 11.30. The cyclists had to run along a path and we were racking their bikes for them. The guy next to me took the bikes while I directed the athlete into the building where people were ready with their run kit. This was a most amusing job apart from the several sweaty cuddles I got. About 60% of the people at this point were away with the fairies. Completely. It was quite funny but also quite worrying how on earth they managed to get round on bikes, it was like they were on auto pilot. Some, clearly emotionally attached, tried to go with their bikes and I literally had to grab them by their arms and drag them back. Some I had to speak to very slowly to so that they could take it in and then I spun them round gently and shoved them off in the direction that they needed to go in. I caught several of them who were going too fast and started to slide about in their cycling cleats. When more than 3 bikes arrived at once it would get a bit hairy and I broke a couple of nails catching flying bikes and/or bikists. This is clearly an occupational hazard of elite marshalling.

 The state of the specimens arriving at the end of the bike were varied. Amazon was very quick but Arse was nowhere to be seen. One lady threw her bike at us shouting “If I ever see that f^cking bike again it will be too f^cking soon”. Another lady came in covered in chain oil - obviously a broken chain but she did not seem to be as angry. Another guy came in who looked very fit (one of the best eye candy specimens) but totally cheesed off as he pushed his bike in our general direction and just let it go – it turned out he had had 2 punctures and had ran the last 10K in his bare feet! Now that is an Ironman!

 DC appeared quicker than I had set in my head so again I was not left wondering where he is. He looked ok and I was momentarily relieved of my post so I could go and take some photos and speak to him. This marshalling business is brilliant and by now, yes – they did know who I am! Arse appeared some time after DC. Result – I don’t quite know why I was so excited by this!

The cyclists came in over a much longer period than the swimmers so there was quite a wait. However I had my official marshal's bag with a cheese savory sandwich in it to keep me going. I kept the other goodies for fattening up DC when he finished. Two ladies who were part of teams were waiting on their own for ages and started to ask if they could find out if their cyclists were still going. Both their husbands were doing the cycling stage together. They eventually arrived and one of the guys was absolutely done in. Once he had sat for 10 minutes and gathered himself I heard his little boy ask if he would do it again. He said yes to which the little boy asked “do you think you should do more training next time?”. We were wetting ourselves.

 Long before the last cyclists came in the front runners were finished. It was quite demotivating for some individuals to see guys picking up their bikes while they were just about to start their half marathon. I didn’t see Amazon finish as I was still at T2. However she came down to where we were to look for her bike. We couldn't find it but she didn't seem too bothered as she was enjoying coveting all the other bikes. There was a lot of this weird bike adulation going on over the course of the day. Turned out due to a disqualification she was 2nd female beaten only by the Ironman Lanzarote champion.

 Then my duties were done and I said goodbye to the nice people I had met. Another perk to the job was that I was then able to pick up DC’s bike and his 2 kit bags and take them to the car. The bikes were not racked in order so getting your bike back was going to be a bit chaotic for the ordinary punters who didn’t have special official access. En route to the car with the bike (i refuse to acknowledge her pet name) I was actually stopped by some blokes who wanted to pick it up to feel the weight. These guys had already finished so as you can imagine they were pretty fit. Seemed like a fair deal. They could admire the bike and i could check them out. Oh yeah where was I..... I then got his change of clothes and towel and headed to the finish. I knew I was too early but I hung about to get a good spot for a photo. I had taken off my vest of power so now I was just a plain old spectator. It didn’t feel quite right. However it was 25 degrees in the sun and I would have passed out if I had kept it on. DC arrived again within the time I would have expected so no worrying. Very generous of him to do this to stop me worrying. He even managed some arm waving as he crossed the line. He looked so much better than I thought and I was very proud of him.

He came round the barriers and we sat in the sun and watched a few more come in. It was at this point he inhaled a lot of snacks. Now you see the jelly babies now you don’t!


I would definitely volunteer at something like this again. The atmosphere was fantastic, you get some sweaty hugs from delirious bikists and you meet lots of nice people, except for Arse.

There will be a further post tomorrow night for an important update on this weekend's swim.

And yes, you can still sponsor me if you haven't yet had the chance.  Apparently, my Just Giving page will stay active for donations until July 2015 so you will have plenty of opportunity but I will be retiring the blog and stopping the reminders in the middle of next week.  Thanks to all who have donated already.

 

Stage Two - I am Half an Ironman

WARNING - Uncensored Lycra Photography Visible From the Third Paragraph

That's it!!  99% of the challenge by distance has now been completed!

It has been a long weekend with loads of fascinating and funny goings ons but I am tired and will keep it (relatively) factual. 

Distance travelled - 1.9k swim (cold - think heart-stoppingly cold), 90k cycle (mainly uphill), 21.1k run (mainly uphill and hot, hot as hell)

Snacks consumed on the move (est) - 3 bananas, 3 energy bars, 3.5 litres energy drink, 4 litres water, 6 energy gels, 4 ibuprofen

Immediate post event catering - 1 apple, 2 bananas, family sized pack of jelly babies, 1 litre energy drink, 1 litre water, carton "JustJuice", large walkers crisps, burger, 2 ibuprofen and pretty much anything else that wasn't tied down or tightly gripped by a child.

Non-racing highlight of the weekend - the race briefing had a couple of special guests - Fraser Cartmel who has just won Ironman UK (but couldn't compete because of his recovery) and Cat Morrison who won Ironman Lanzarote and was competing - both did Q and A.  Cat told the story of her IM win where her chain broke on the bike and she lost 45 minutes until it was repaired and still ran a fantastic marathon and won.  As she described it she could either have a hissy fit, which wouldn't have fixed anything, or make friends with the locals - which she did.  A study in serenity I would do a lot to learn from - I used some inappropriate language on the drive up to describe the old dear in the Ford Fiesta who was driving at a speed suitable for her age.  With hindsight it was unreasonable of me to suggest she should have her license confiscated and put where I suggested it should be put.  Both of these guys will be a credit when they represent Scotland at the Ironman World Championships in Hawaii in Nov (and Cat also in the World Duathlon Championships in Edinburgh, 3-5 Sep).

Eyes Remained Tightly Shut
Given the Ungodly Hour

Waking Up - seriously, I woke up at 0630 on a Sunday.  Pam wanted first shower on account of having more hair apparently!!  Post shower I started the liquid event preparations - liberal application of P20 sunscreen on all exposed areas, extremely liberal application of vaseline on all unexposed areas and drank a bottle of energy drink and a bottle of hydration solution. The hotel kindly layed on early breakfast for the handful of competitors that were staying.  Following some toast, coffee, Alpen and yoghurt I made up my water bottles, pumped up tyres and headed to the swim start to rack my bike.  It became a bit of a game of chicken with the weather - it was misty and freezing but the BBC was forecasting 24C with no wind.  The wrong apparel choice for the bike could have huge repercussions for comfort for the rest of the day and, having got so dehydrated in the Rome Marathon that I got into a fight with a blind man, I decided I would risk the cold and go skimpy!  The other good news was that the organisers had given us giant Ikea bags for wet kit which meant that I could retire the old faithful House of Fraser carrier bag that had been deployed in Ayr much to Shakey's chagrin.  Pam, by now, had "borrowed" most of my cold weather kit, donned a yellow plastic bag and was passing herself off as a marshall.  Telling people what to do seemed to be right up her street.

The Swim - As promised the water was a balmy 12.5C and was shrouded in a particularly cold mist that seemed to start just in front of your nose.  To put the temperature in perspective once your head goes under you get a sensation not unlike ice cream brain freeze........and we were going to swim in it.  It was a 2 lap course of 850 metres per lap and then on top of that there was a 50metre swim to the start.  At 0830, up to your neck in the oggin and with only a few metres visibility, literally all you could hear were teeth chattering and distressed heavy breathing......until the horn went off and then there was just carnage.  I had made a early policy decison that, on account of the dislocating left shoulder and an anti-clockwise course, that I would stay out of the stramash and swim wide for the whole event.  A fine plan once in open water, however, at the start with the best part of 300 people trying to create some froth it is the survival of the strongest, fittest and stupidest - of which I qualify firmly in the final category and fought my way into clear water.  After that their really isn't much to say about the swim as my head was under the water and I could only see 6 inches in front of me.  After passing the final buoy the cold took it's toll and I could feel my right calf and both my hamstrings starting to cramp - this worried me for the 200m run to T1 and my bike.  But really I needn't have worried - as soon as I stood up all the blood that had been in my head helping my brain to function plummeted down to the wellies and I honestly couldn't have told you my name never mind know that I had cramp; so in a state of confusion I just followed everyone else.  This almost worked as a strategy except I couldn't get on their bikes with them so I ended up wandering around T1 for almost 4 minutes trying to work out what my bike looked like and then trying to work out how to get a banana into my shirt pocket and switch on my watch.  In the meantime there had been another shock for me as I got cheered by name as I crossed the road to T1 - an old colleague had made the trip up (despite doing the Ireman event next week himself) to provide guerilla support and would pop up at several points on the course.  Sean, thanks for your support mate, it was a complete surprise, it made a massive difference when spirits are dipping and just enjoy it next weekend!!

Transition 1 - What's my name, where's my bike,
how do I get the rubber suit off?

The Bike - was always going to be a challenge with two huge climbs and I had opted for the Temptress who isn't the most accomodating of climbers.  As mentioned above, I had opted for the tri singlet with no Plan B which was developing into a smart move as the mist was lifting and the temperature rising.  The first climb was definitely tough - a climb of about 800m over about 5km, that certainly woke the legs up.  As I breasted the hill (let's call it a mountain) I decided to start eating and went for an energy bar and almost near disaster.  I got the bar out, unwrapped it, put the litter back in my bag, took a first bite and went to get back on the tri-bars and completely missed with my left elbow - all at about 35kph.  Luckily I regained my balance or I would have been snacking on tarmac.  It could have been disheartening to see the better bikists flying by me but I took consolation from the fact that they must be really bad swimmers!  The ride was long and probably the most stunning that I have been on - as we went over the north side of Loch Rannoch the mist lifted and the water was like glass reflecting the surrounding mountains.  An idyllic scene apart from all the abandoned bikes at the side of the road - a ha, a natural pit stop spot.  Having been intimidated by the cold in the loch and been unable to perform and by now approaching full it was time to dismount and join the pee'ers.  Relieved I pushed on and by now the mercury was really starting to rise - just in time for the hill/mountain on the way back.  Not so long, but twice as steep as the first one.  I honestly could not see through my shades as the sweat dripped relentlessly onto the lenses on the ascent.....and then suddenly it was over and I knew it was all downhill for 13km to Aberfeldy and T2.  Bizarrely, on the downhill and the approach road to Aberfeldy I overtook a lot of people and made up a lot of ground I had lost on the climb.  I took the opportunity to shout encouragement to a fella punctured at the side of the road - I learnt later that he punctured twice and ran the last 10k with his bike and barefoot - now that is an Ironman!

Transition 2 - Almost fell off my bike at the dismount as my senses were equally assaulted by another cheer from Sean Collins who now seemed to have gathered a flash mob and a shreek from Pam who was by now ordering people around T2 (she by the way now has all the lingo and a firm grasp of international triathlon rules - don't be surprised if you see her whupping ass in 2012).  T2 should be a simple case of changing from your cycling to running shoes and picking up any nutrition that you had stashed.  But in my black bin bag I catered for any eventually - a change of shorts, t-shirt and socks, large tub of vaseline, 2 gels and a banana.  All that packing and all I used were the trainers and gels!  But as I started to run out something wasn't right.......I had forgotten in the fug of T1 that I had worn two pairs of cycling shorts and I couldn't run in them.  So after handing in the bag to the marshall I had to ask her for more help.  Please, please, please let this be the only time that I ever ask a middle-aged lady to take from me a pair of moist cycling shorts that have just spent three and a half hours wellying about perthshire in tropical temperatures.  My greatest shame of the day and she was an absolute pro and took them without complaint. 

The Run - As I left T2 I got another wave and shreek from Pam and then set off on my least favourite discipline - running in the baking heat.  The route started inauspiciously heading behind the school to a scruffy area where I can only assume the smokers hide out.  And then I hit a massive uphill and then an equally evil downhill.  As I ran through the town centre and out on to the picturesque course I made another policy decision - as this was described as an "undulating" (which normally means alpine) course I would walk up the hills and run the flats and downhills and I stuck by this policy faithfully.  I guess it was now about 1 o'clock and the temperature was soring.  The run route was in the trees and dappled by shade but was still hot and I was already starting to hunt down a blind man to have a fight with.  With my learnings from Rome the one thing that I knew was to respect the aid stations because in this heat with my pasty celtic pallour it becomes a battle just to finish rather than racing against the clock.  So at each of the 6 opportunities to refuel I took a cup of energy drink, 0.5l of water and a gel.  Of the water half went in the mouth and the remainder over the head, back and arms to try and cool my core temperature.  The gels were provided by the sponsor, Powerbar, and while not instantly vomit inducing were interestingly labelled - lemon and lime I would rename sulphuric acid, blackcurrant with caffeine would be coal if I marketed it and strawberry and banana tasted nothing like a strawberry or a banana but was unusually semi-palatable for a gel.  The run/walk out to the turn point was really tough because loads of rubbish swimmers passed me and I passed not one solitary individual but on the return trip I passed a dozen runners who had been broken by the heat or some part of their body had let them down. 

As I ran into the town centre again I thought I was getting abuse from the guys in the beer garden in the baking sun but, no, it was Sean again leading my unofficial cheerleading squad.  The spirit breaking hill at the start was to be tackled again on the way back in and I unashamedly walked up it taking in the last few quiet moments of my first half ironman, shed a tear, had a chat and thanked the marshalls in the last couple of hundred metres and then turned onto the astroturf and sprinted like a man possessed into the finishing funnel.  It was emotional, I was knackered and as my timing chip was removed and I was handed fruit and water I realised this was another "no bling" event.  But what the hell, every muscle and joint in my body was left with mementoes of the event.

So, having hoped to beat 7 hours I actually managed 6:32 with splits as follows:

Swim  0:36.29

T1     0:04.49 (this could have been hours or days and I would have been blissfully unaware!)

Bike   3:28.41

T2     0:02.07

Run    2:20.19

Elated, tired, sore and sun beaten.  One week and one event to go.

Hopefully, I will get Pam to do an update from a marshall's point of view because she has some cracking tales from the day and I will post another pre-race preview at the end of the week before the Great Scottish Swim.

If you were waiting to see if I survived this one before you sponsored me then barring a pirhana attack in Strathclyde Park I think I am now good to finish the challenge.  It is a great cause, it doesn't get enough attention and hopefully I have done my little bit for awareness.

Just Before the "Big One" .............

The Ice Still Hasn't Melted on Loch Tay by August

The nerves are starting to jangle now as I approach the big one.  As mentioned previously I face 80% of the total challenge mileage this weekend as I take on the Aberfeldy Middle (yes, there are Long ones) Distance Triathlon which is half of the Ironman distance.  So as a re-cap I will swim 1.9km, bike 90km and then run a half-marathon (21.1km).  The Daily Record Ironman column uses the following description......."This is a half Ironman distance thrash and will be a real test of my fitness and mental determination.  The event is set in deepest darkest Perthshire and takes competitors through some of the most picturesque parts of Scotland.  It is widely regarded as one of the harder days on the triathlon calendar - with a 1.9km swim in the balmy waters of Loch Tay, followed by a 'sticky' 60 mile bike ride before finishing with an undulating half-marathon past Harry Potter author JK Rowlings palatial pad."

Catering Choice of Champs

Preparations haven't been perfect this week as I have been suffering from a serious illness that has adversely impacted my training.  Now I know when I am getting ill and this week the symptoms went from relatively benign to life-threatening within hours - when the nose runs I can normally get by with a persistent manly sniff, in more serious situations I may have to deploy the back of the hand (possibly a sleeve) but this week it all went ballistic and I had to reach for the hankies.  A more fragile man would probably have ended up in the ER and would call it pneumonia but I sniffed in the face of adversity.  My diet has also been challenging since Shakey and I Big Mac'd after Ayr and final race fuelling today has been sub-optimal including a sausage roll, a Tunnocks Tea Cake with too many Americanos and some out of date Walkers Crisps.  I have managed to carb load in the evenings though for most of the week and my new favourite pasta is now Tripoline - a pasta with ruffles - camp but tasty! 

I am now starting to look forward to some seriously bad eating next week when the big event is over.  And having managed to get to a couple of fringe shows this week (and the Fringe is a very different experience when you are sober) I am developing my usual unhealthy fixation with Nastro Azzuro while I am training hard for an event.  After the Great Scottish Swim on the 21st I expect to go seriously off the rails for a few hours (possibly days)!!

Pam has volunteered to marshall at the event this weekend which is very altruistic.  However, I think she has other less charitable reasons - the free event t-shirt that marshalls get, an invite to join me at the pre-race pasta party on Saturday night and I think she may have misunderstood me when I said that the marshalls at these events deserve a medal.  I suspect she may have illusions of driving me home all blinged up!!

For those worrying about why Shakey isn't joining me for this event.  Well to be honest she is starting to feel her age, has a dodgy hip and is quite frankly just not fit enough.  And secondly, after Ayr last weekend she has discovered that she has spiders living under her skin and has developed a very irritating itch.  She will be back next weekend, hopfeully, less her new friends for the Great Scottish Swim.  In the meantime, she is showing solidarity and is spending this evening "taking one for the team" by having my share of beer at the Spiegeltent as well as her own.

Another aspect of less than perfect prep tonight was the lawn again.  I am pretty sure Chris Hoy didn't get sent out to the back green by his mum just before he headed to Beijing but Pam said the grass was a disgrace and to make my way out and cut it.  Once the scyth had got it down to knee height it was pretty straightforward to trim after that.  The remaining stubble then became a pretty good base to gather all of my gear for the weekend.  In the interests of not shredding my more delicate moving parts packing involves all sorts of ointments and options for changing into at the transitions during the event.  And to ensure I have a fair chance of walking into the office under my own steam on Monday I have packed compression clothes (in fact, lets call it what it is - extreme lycra!) for afterwards which apparently aid recovery.  I am not sure there will be enough space in Pam's 4WD to get everything in for the weekend.  Bear in mind for a night away Pam will need shoe "options" that would cover the whole lawn.

If my eyes are working the run course will be beautiful

For a quick preview of Sunday it goes like this......8am race briefing in Kenmore (pictured at top), 0820 enter frigid waters of Loch Tay (currently boasting a sultry 12C) for "warm up", 0830 we're off for a 1.9k swim.  Then on to the bike for a 90k jolly over the Schiehallion Road, a loop of Loch Rannoch and then into Aberfeldy.  After a brief warm-up we start climbing for about 6 miles then it is flat for about 40miles and then we do the climb again on the way back.  At the moment I am still planning to ride Jezebel (aka the Temptress) this weekend because she is fast as anything on the flats but feisty and hard work on the climbs - I may have a last minute change of bikes in the morning if my legs are remotely tired or I just chicken out.  Following the bike we start the run along the River Tay in Aberfeldy on what is euphemistically described as an "undulating" course.

Stock saved from fire at fetish shop

I'm a big enough boy that I can admit to a few fears.  Firstly the old one armed swim - the water is cold and I am slightly concerned about getting cramp in the functioning arm.  Secondly, the hills in the bike - I am pretty rubbish going up them ................ and I tend to break limbs coming down them.  And I always hurt my legs in some manner when I am running......or lose toe nails.  And then there is the nutrition - I will use 6-7000 calories during the course of the event and, to avoid the wall, I need to be taking in about 60 grammes of carbs per hour.  With all that synthetic high energy food being forced into my stomach while I cycle and run there is every chance that I will develop the trots, throw up etc etc etc.  The weather forecast currently has the temp between 20 and 24C and with the wind at zero mph - perfect conditions for dehydration.  Oh, excellent exactly what my tender, rebelling stomach will really need at that point will be gallons of water chucked on top with artificially effervescent electrolytes.

This is such a big challenge that my only aim is to finish.  I am hoping to get in about 7 hours after I start with all limbs intact. 

This afternoon I passed through the £3000 mark with the fundraising which will make all of that so worthwhile.  Thanks again for all the support so far.  Yes, if you haven't yet had the opportunity you can still sponsor me.

That's it.  The next update will be post event.  

Stage One - Ayr Open Water Triathlon

Take a seat.  This is a long one.

At last, it's all underway!  After a final long training ride on Saturday evening I took the opportunity for an early night.  Honestly by then I needed it - travelling to a triathlon is like planning a moon-landing - bike rack, bike, watch, water bottles, pump, repair kit, wetsuit, cap, goggles, trainers, cycling shoes, socks shorts and vest, shades, bike helmet, gels, bananas and energy bars, number belt, race licence, mobile, money, towels, warm clothes, lube and sun screen.  Now if only I had used the sun screen............

If you have been following the blog you will be aware that Sunday was the ultimate grudge match - Phelps versus Bolt, swimmer versus runner as Stumpy and Shakey went head to head in a battle of wills and a triathlon for the first time.  In the interests of balanced reportage I have magnanimously allowed the Shakester to write her own perspective of the race (no doubt she will win that version by miles).  Did we kill each other on the drive through, were any new injuries incurred, who won?  The answer to all these questions and more will follow.

Before that, though, did you know that the Daily Mail costs 50p?  As I have now written 8 of these blogs I think that has been a damned fine return on your kind donations as I reckon I have covered more news than the Daily Mail ever does!  I have been frequently asked why I have taken on the challenge and apart from obvious personal reasons I was so incensed by an article in the Daily Mail a couple of years ago that I wanted to raise awareness of the issue and overcome bigoted, ill-informed opinions.  The article that forced me to break my shoulder, tear my calf and stub my toe (damn near fatally) is here - http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1093668/Even-daughters-lunchtime-walnut-cake-banned-Why-allergy-hysteria-just---Nuts.html.  Now heaven forbid chubby little Petronella can't gorge herself on walnut cake after her goats cheese and pesto pieces but is it really unreasonable for schools to provide life-saving guidance to parents to allow children with severe alllergies to live a normal life??  Perhaps it is time to read something else while the Daily Mail encourages tripe like this to be published in it's editorial.

Anyways, back to the racing.  A 0730 rendezvous outside Markies called for an indecently early Sunday morning.  The only other drivers on the roads had their windows down and were obviously weaving their way home from the pub but Shakey and I just stank of Powerade and Deep Heat.  Remarkably, despite our excessively competitive relationship we managed to not talk about who was going to win for the whole 2hr journey.  On arrival we managed to park about two counties away and made our way to the transition area with sherpas and pack horse to carry all the gear.  We were still an hour early, we were nervous and there were only two portaloos.......

We got our transition areas set up and wandered on to the bridge to survey the swim.  Ducks and swans frollicked in the shallows of the river and, other than their forced smiles, gave no clue of the frigid waters that lay below.  Fifteen minutes to go and, in the blazing sun, the comedy started as clowns of all shapes and sizes wrestled with their rubber suits.  The techniques adopted varied from the stork-like one legged approach to lying on the back and pulling the suit up your legs with all your might.  No-one retained any dignity.  In my shiny new Daffyd top (which is sleeveless) I sported the 2010 tourist tan from hours on the bike which looked like I was wearing a fresh white t-shirt under my tri-top.

As the temperature rose the delegates from the S&M conference gathered outside

There was a quick race briefing which mentioned road re-surfacing, danger, falling off, abrasive skin injuries, broken bodies and I started to suffer flashbacks to the last bike crash.  I made a mental note to go slow on the new road.  Unsportingly, nobody mentioned the impending water hazard.  As we went in to the polar ice flow to "warm up"  I saw some seasoned campaigners emit silent screams and curl into foetal positions - only then did it become apparent that rivers are colder than lochs!  Shakey and I timidly made our way forward with the crowd and, had I been able to breath, I would have muttered some kind words of comfort and reassurance.  Instead I emitted a squeal like a 4 year old girl that had just been handed a pink bike with handlebar streamers and stabilizers.  The look on 77 people's faces gave away that all and sundry were deploying the internal central heating inside their wetsuits and slowly the water temperature rose a couple of degrees. 

The World Pooh Sticks Championships proved challenging this year 

The start felt like a washing machine on a spin cycle - I counted being kicked twice in the head before losing consciousness and then I had the feeling of dread as someone started to swim up my back - they came right over the top treating me to a prolonged dooking in glacial water.  As I resurfaced I gathered my thoughts, considered discretion as the better part of valour and moved from one armed crawl to breastroke.  Shakey may have drowned at the start but by this point a great white shark on weight watchers wouldn't have made me turn around to face the 50 or so swimmers behind me closing in fast like a shoal of pirhanas.   Bizarrely the water was only waist deep so at the turn buoy everyone stood up and jogged - being economically legged I thought that they were all giants.  On the way down the second leg I passed Shakey and shouted encouragement - the response was either very swearey or an involuntary reaction to hypothermia - regardless, a race is a race and I pushed on.  By the third lap I had some space and my fear of shoulder dislocation passed; I turned on the after-burners with a two-armed front crawl, and despite an alarming tendon ping as my arm came over the top I motored past a couple of dozen tiring swimmers and exited the water to a big cheering crowd on the bridge and the shore.

With no need to do the Mel Gibson shoulder dislocation a la Lethal Weapon 2, the wetsuit came off a treat and I started the bike leg.  And then I went up a hill for miles and miles.  Despite coming back to the same place there didn't seem to be as much downhill as up - how does that work?  Now at this point the error of my ways with the sunscreen was becoming apparent as I cut through the Ayrshire late morning like a scarlet exocet.  Whatever else happened I was going to have some new tan lines.  Well, the road resurfacing was as scary as promised and even the mentalist bikists slowed themselves down for a couple of miles but then we were on the home straight and the race was back on.  The ride back to was pleasant with great support from the marshalls and a large crowd at the transition really gave a lift before setting off on the run.  All the time I was looking over my shoulder looking for old Shakey because I knew I needed to have 6 minutes on her at the start of the run to have any chance of victory.

Now, I have discovered that one of the most depressing things in life is meeting people approaching the finish line as you are setting off on your run in a triathlon.  And they looked fresher than I felt!!  Within 1k we hit Horrible Hill which lived up to it's billing.  One fellow runner promised me he would puke if it went on any longer and another fella took the opportunity for a pee stop.  Unusually, I really enjoyed the run although my calves we sore as anything and I even managed a sprint for the spectators as the crowd got thicker towards the finish line.  And then I waited for Shakey, and waited, and waited.  I even went to the river to see if she "hadn't made it" but there was no sign of the Coastguard.  Sometime later my stubble had grown a couple of inches, I had developed a deep tan, I had showered and had my tea and then off along the sea front I saw the familiar loping stride picking off runners as she neared the finish line.  She finished elegantly and then, good friend that I am, I chucked a cup of water at her and had to listen to her blah, blah, blah about her cold tootsies.

The winning margin in my report was 9m 45s where I put down most of the lead in the swim but unexpectedly held on for a 25min 5km in the run.  Disappointingly the Ayr club were not offering T-shirts as campaign honours nor was there bling to wear to McDonalds for lunch.  Instead they gave us a number belt which is a bit like a suspender belt but much less interesting.  When we got back to the transition it was like Shakey had just got in from a night at Scruffy Murphys and there was a trail of swim cap, goggles, wetsuit, cycling shoes, towel, socks, bike, toast and crisps (I may have exaggerated the last two) strewn over about 20metres squared.  Compared to my neatly folded wetsuit and cycling shoes placed parallely together it was an absolute pikey disgrace.

We watched a bit of the prize giving and then thought we should head back on the 4 mile walk to the car.  Apparently my red House of Fraser carrier bag was an affront to Shakey's high standards of triathlon style and she refused to walk with me.  Maybe it was the carrier bag or maybe she just had to shed a tear on her own......

If you are interested on another perspective of the race (ie from the back of the field) then you should read on.

So after months of training (AND whining about a sore calf, sore ankle, sore shoulder, sore toe, sore hand, sore foot, sore head etc etc) Dougie (AKA Stumpy) finally started his August challenge on Sunday..... And I rather foolishly decided to join him for the ride. Unfortunately neither of us buy into “it’s the taking part that counts” so to say things got a bit heated in the run up to the big day is a slight understatement. It's amazing really that we were actually still talking on Sunday morning.

A departure time of 7.30am meant a quiet evening on Saturday. Despite numerous friends assurances that pints of magners in the Spiegeltent counted as carb loading, I managed to fight the urge to go out and spent the evening milling into pasta on my sofa watching Tonights the Night with John Barrowman. (I won’t be staying in on a Saturday ever again.)

The 90 mile journey to Ayr was surprisingly cordial with both of us stifling the urge to wind the other up. Now I would like to say this was a last ditch effort at good sportsmanship on both our behalfs but it wasn’t…. We were simply still a bit stunned at getting out of bed at 6.30am on a Sunday for something other than a trip to the kitchen for water to treat the hangover. We arrived at our destination fairly calm and relaxed..... and then we saw how far the transition area was from the car park.... Did these people not realise we literally only had 750m swim, 20km cycle and 5km run in our legs???

As we made the trek from the car to the transition area it slowly dawned on us that this was not quite the amateur affair we were hoping for. Stumpy, with his red plastic house of fraser bag, and me, with my suped up BMX (thankfully I had taken the stabilisers off of it on Saturday!!), were essentially rocking up to compete in Formula 1 in a clapped out Nissan Micra. After setting out our kit in the transition area we did a quick recce of the portaloos (I would soon realise why the organisers had decided 2 portaloos were sufficient for a 100 strong crowd) and the river we were about to launch ourselves into. For the 15th time that morning I asked myself “What the feck have I gotten myself into?!?”. It was then back to the transition area to lube up and don the wetsuits. Now for anyone looking for a few laughs on a Sunday morning I would recommend looking up your local triathlon events, as even the Fringe can’t compete with the comedy value of 100 people contorting themselves to get into rubber suits and caps.... Priceless.

At 11am we were summoned to the side of the river for the pre race briefing. This consisted of a man with a microphone yelling at us not to drown, get hit by a car or trip over our laces…. Oh and he also informed us that Ayr council, in their infinite wisdom, had decided to start resurfacing a 2 mile stretch of road so there was a good chance we would come a cropper at this point of the cycle…. Marvellous. We were then sent packing down into the arctic waters to “warm up” before kick off. When I heard the screams from those first in I decided the sensible option was to scramble back up the sand bank onto the safety of the grass. My escape was thwarted though by something gripping my arm and dragging me in. At first I thought it was one of the swams attacking me but then I noticed the yellow cap and realised it was stumpy…. For an old boy with a broken shoulder he was freakishly strong. So that was that there was no escaping now. As we stood in the river fighting hypothermia I slowly realised 2 things

1 – the combination of wetsuits and ice cold water meant there was method to the 2 portaloo madness - Use your imagination

2 – paddling in the sea in Spain 3 weeks before, and a 20min dip in Loch Ore Meadows does not qualify as sufficient training for a 750m swim in a river in Ayr

The whistle then blew and we were off… Or at least everyone else was. Now having only learned to swim properly in the last 6 months it’s fair to say that swimming is not my strong point, so I was prepared for a less than Olympic performance in the water. I was not however prepared for the kick I got in the face, the hundred odd gallons of water I swallowed or losing all feeling in my hands and feet. The swim leg of the race consisted of four 187.5 metre lengths of the river…. About 20m into the first length I considered calling over the rescue canoe to drag me out, but the fear of the swans (they can break your arm with their wing you know) and the shame of being labelled a DNF (ala stumpy in the 2010 Great Edinburgh Run in May) took over and I managed to complete this section of the race (albeit I was one of the last out of the water).

As I stumbled towards the transition area it dawned on me that if I was to claw back some of the dignity lost in the river and catch sight of Stumpy I was going to have to venture into unknown territory on the bike…. i.e take my hands of the brakes. This might seem a small thing to anyone else but given I have managed to fall off the stupid thing whilst stationery the idea of falling of it whilst moving terrifies me. Add to this my propensity for injuring myself (most recently of which a fractured coccyx…. Fancy medical term for broken arse) the idea of cycling 20km was rapidly losing it’s appeal. Nonetheless I battled on and after wrestling myself out of the wetsuit and into helmet/cycling shoes I set off. The race blurb on the triathlon website had indicated that this was not a particularly hilly cycle…. They'd lied. I figured though that as the cycle was a loop out and back with “breath taking scenery” the uphills and downhills would balance out….. they didn’t. Or at least that’s what it felt like. Oh and I didn’t notice the alleged “breath taking scenery" as my vision was blurred from the exertion of dragging myself up endless hills whilst simulataneously trying to avoid the Ayr boy racers playing chicken in their Subaru Imprezzas. Miraculously though I managed to catch a few of my opponents on the bike and actually began to enjoy the ride. The enjoyment was shortlived though as I arrived back into the transition zone to see the first of the male competitors crossing the finish line! I am now convinced that some of these guys have gills and so some sort of genetic testing should be done to validate their 9 minute swim times!!

Nonetheless as I was a mere 5km from competing my first open water triathlon I ploughed on with the run. Thankfully I’d finally gotten to the part which I could do…. Or so I thought. Having done a fair amount of running over the last couple of years, 5km is generally not particularly stressful. However after swimming (if you could call it that) 750m and cycling 20km a 5km run feels like trekking across the Andes in a pair of stilettos (Not that I or anyone else for that matter has ever done that but you get the idea). It took about a kilometre or so for the jelly legs to subside and me to regain control of my limbs (My feet finally began to thaw out from the swim now too which was a bonus). According to the race blurb this wasn't going to be a particularly hilly course.... They'd lied... Again. About 1 and a half kilometres in chalked on the ground were warnings of "Horrible Hill Up Ahead"..... They'd conveniently forgotten that from the pre race brief. Halfway up this mountain I had to jump into a ditch as the marshalls had decided to let one of the boy racers from earlier drive up it. This was not shaping up to be a record breaking 5km for me. But as I got to the top, I spied some opponents ahead of me and finally got a second wind. I managed to speed up and again miraculously overtook a few of my fellow competitors but unfortunately none of them were Stumpy. The last 1km of the run was through a housing estate (again not quite the "breath taking scenery" Ayr triathlon club had been shouting about, but thankfully the residents were out in their gardens cheering us on. As I came up the final stretch I finally spied Stumpy loitering in his lycra at the finish line. The police were about to issue a ticket for indecent exposure but fortunately I got there just in time to explain why he was terrorising the good folk of Ayr with the S+M type ensemble.

Unfortunately the story doesn't have a happy ending (i.e I didn't win) but I've taken comfort in the fact that this is the first (and last) time Stumpy has beaten me in an official race (although I question how official this even is as there was no medals at the end) so you should too. I've declined Stumpy's kind offer of joining him for his Half Ironman next weekend but I'll be wading into Strathcylde park with him the week after for another dose of hypothermia.

How interesting!  Anyway, Shakey has decided that as she is joining me for the last and first event and is also doing the NY Marathon that she has done as much as me in the challenge.  As I have pointed out I did 20% of my challenge mileage this weekend and will do 1% in the last weekend (and it is not anal to have calculated that if you are an ex-accountant!).  Which means that next weekend is the big one with a 1.9k swim, 90k bike and then a half marathon and hopefully home for tea (which may be a tasty IV drip) on Sunday evening.  An update will no doubt folllow.

I am delighted that I have now raised almost £2.8k but I will still be fundraising for another fortnight if you haven't had the opportunity yet!