The End of this Chapter

I have now thoroughly enjoyed a prolonged sabattical reacquainting myself with burgers and beer and thought I had better close this chapter and tie up some loose ends.

As mentioned in the last update we had to turn to Plan B to finish off the challenge.  The original plan, which had been a year in the making, was that I would finish my three event challenge and Shakey would have her first long distance open water swim at the Great Scottish Swim.  However, the Great Scottish Swim and the Great North Swim in Windemere were both cancelled due to outbreaks of blue-green algae which is, apparently, more dangerous than the things that already linger in the depths of Strathclyde Park and that I normally happily ignore.

Blue skies and sandy beaches make the Pentlands
a popular spot for a late August dook

So, we planned a 10am pick-up along with an extended support squad of Pam and Mam and Dad Shakey to take the long trek into the Pentlands and swim in an ice cold reservoir.  It turns out that my spartan existence couldn't withstand the Edinburgh Fringe and, with only one evening to hold out on my abstinence, I spectacularly fell off the wagon in a 3 pint frenzy leaving me dribbling and proving that exercise and Guinness simply don't mix.  However, with the hangover thoroughly sated with a large bowl of porridge, we gathered aside the reservoir and procrastinated at length.  Shakey was looking particularly uncertain as the waves battered up the beach and it turns out her confidence levels in my one-armed Baywatch lifesaving technique were low to non-existent.  But there was no need to worry......the canoeing leg of the Edinburgh Rat Race was in the same loch so we had a large flotilla of canoes as rescue craft.  The tables were almost turned, however, every time one of the canoeists spotted two mentallists in canary yellow rubber hats popping up from below the waves and just about capsized with shock!! 

Like The Stig, The Shakester is finally unmasked

With much trepidation we edged towards the water and "enjoyed" the moment as the frigid waters breached the wetsuit seams.  After a few exploratory strokes, and seeing the distressed look on Shakey's face, I stepped up to the plate as a mentor and gave her some advice that will probably stay with her forever.  The advice will have to remain private but needless to say everyone was warmer afterwards. 

Unsurprisingly, with a strong headwind the going was tough.  It was actually really miserable - trying to get a breath in as the wind and breaking waves were hitting us pretty much square in the face.  A couple of times we were blown so far off course we were shocked (much to Shakey's delight) to hit the shallows and have to wade to deeper water.  The wind carried our conversation to the shore and the transcripts from the land based support crew reflect the following conversation....

Shakey celebrates receiving and implementing
the best piece of advice ever

STUMPY:  Are you OK?

SHAKEY:  Yes

STUMPY:  Are you lying?

SHAKEY:  Yes

STUMPY:  Do you want me to stop talking?

SHAKEY:  No, but blllubbble.......(unintelligible muffled underwater response)

At the turn, things were getting a bit tense.  I was in charge of distance and Shakey was not believing my measurements.  To make matters worse the canoeists were now just about all finished and from a distance it looked like Pam, Ma and Da Shakey were all suffering from hypothermia and were using all of their spare energy dodging swan attacks.

Let's see if I have covered everything - freezing cold, dirty water, windy as hell, peeing in wetsuit........  Yup, that's it!  There really is never much more to say about a swim in the open water.  And just to pad out the final blog here it was from the Shakester's perspective.

As I’ve said before I have a completely rational fear of drowning, so the idea of swimming (albeit I use the term fairly loosely) in a freezing cold loch on a Saturday morning didn’t exactly fill me with a warm fuzzy feeling. Now take that scenario and remove the promised rescue speedboats, lifeguards, ambulances, paramedics, resuscitation tents, man with a loudspeaker, post race catering spread (although I needn’t have worried about that as the ma was looking out for us and had that covered), a fully fit, two-armed swimming partner and a certain scantily clad male Olympic medallist that I’d been promised an introduction to and you’ll get a sense of how I was feeling when my alarm went off on the 21st August – in a nutshell pure, blind, unadulterated panic. On paper a trip to some random reservoir in some random hills in Edinburgh (my geography of the capital doesn’t really extend beyond Leith and Princes Street) didn’t seem like such a big deal, but in reality I was once again teetering on the brink of insanity.

Now given my poor geography skills and refusal to buy a satnav, it was agreed that Stumpy and Pam would have to collect me and the ma and da and drive us to this reservoir that I was assured was blue/green algae free (Stumpy has amazingly qualified as microbiologist, meteorologist and mapping expert since the beginning of the challenge). Thankfully this was a shorter car journey than the one to Ayr so we didn’t have to listen to Stumpy bang on about his “legendary” HALF ironman status and broken shoulder/arm/leg/toe for too long!

When we set off from the car park in the Pentlands to the site of my potential demise it became clear that this was actually an aquathlon (like a triathlon but without the cycling) that Stumpy had planned – he’d neglected to mention that it would be a 10 mile (possibly a slight exaggeration there) hike to the water. When we finally arrived (in the early evening!) it was with great delight that we realised that we weren’t going solo on this and that the Edinburgh Rat Race kayak leg was taking place in our loch so we’d have company (and potential rescuers!!) for some of the swim.

Before any of us had time to fully comprehend the madness of what we were about to undertake, Stumpy and I got suited up, said our (possibly final!) goodbyes to our loved ones and headed into the arctic waters. For a brief moment, I relaxed when I realised the water was a touch warmer than Ayr (I repeat TOUCH) but then the gale force winds picked up and forced my head to get wet (something I’d really hoped to avoid). Needless to say I/we employed some basic survival skills to warm up and we then set off. Once again the pool at Cowdenbeath seemed like swimming in a bathtub but we battled on. As we “swam” the first half into the wind we managed to befriend a couple of the kayakers (or canoeists – I’ll be honest I don’t really understand what the difference is between the two, apparently it’s something to do with the paddle but who knows…) and even gave them some directions as to where the flag was that they needed to collect as part of their challenge.

After approx 800metres the time came to turn around (woohoo!) and head back to the shore. Thankfully when we turned the wind was now at our back and made the return trip a little quicker. As the journey back was a little easier I braved (or more correctly made Stumpy brave) seeing how deep the water actually was and realised (with sheer unadulterated joy) that the wind had blown us into shallow, knee deep water. Unfortunately my relief was short lived as Stumpy was muttering something about swimming when you can put your feet down is cheating and when he did his HALF ironman blah blah blah etc......and he only went and dragged me back into deep waters. Spoilsport.

So it was with a great sense of achievement and relief (me for not drowning, Stumpy for not letting me drown) that we finally finished and came out of the water to rapturous applause from the crowds – although I may have been hallucinating at that stage.  Pam and the ma and da were delighted we had finished without the need for the feared 999 call, mainly because that would have interfered with the planned post race picnic the ma had very kindly provided! Needless to say most of the magic of the day has been captured on film by the da and Stumpy has thought it appropriate to let the world in on our rubber suit shame.

Thankfully for Stumpy, after the kilomathon on 3rd October he gets a wee sabbatical to fix the broken shoulder and crippled limbs, unfortunately though no rest for me and it’s on to the New York Marathon on 7th November. I’m fairly sure though there’ll be no swimming required for that so fingers crossed it won’t be too painful. I’m running in aid of Marie Curie Cancer Care so in what can only be described as a shameless act of self promotion I have included the link to my JustGiving page (http://www.justgiving.com/Ness-Jacob) which is another great cause and any support is greatly appreciated.

So, what does the future hold? Well as mentioned above the Shakester and I have one last joint outing of the year at the historic Edinburgh Kilomathon (26.2km or 16.3 miles) where she has very kindly decided to run at the back with the old boy as a reward for keeping her alive in the swim. After that she takes over and leads the way towards her New York Marathon run on the 7th November while I take her place as the training monkey.  I have joined her for company (and slow her down) for the last couple of weekends of long runs and the hours of bad chat, playing hunt the public loos/bushes, and abusing lycra clad tellytubbies carrying litres of Powerade on their backs definitely helps the time pass.  For me, it has now been confirmed that the broken shoulder is serious (believe it or not some people - actually mainly Pam and Shakey think I am faking the pain!!?) and I am heading in for surgery straight after the Kilomathon.  Shouldn't be too sore though - I am half an ironman after all!  And then once humpty dumpty has been put together again, with this year's challenge not being quite challenging enough, I start the long haul on to my first full Ironman in Regensburg in August 2011 where I will swim 2.4miles, bike 112miles and run a marathon through sunny Bavaria.  If you have any doubts how tough an Ironman is then fast forward this video to 2:00 mins to see what happens when 2000 rubber clad gimps squeeze down 100 metres of beach front to take in a paddle in the early morning sun.  The good news is that the water will be warm, the bad news is that this is only the start of what is likely to be a 14hour race.

And now for my emotionally charged Oscars's moment.........Thank you to everyone who has sponsored me - we raised £4,000 including gift aid for the Anaphylaxis Campaign. Thanks to Shakey for being a sport, good company (no seriously, she has!), and a great friend. Thanks for mam and dad Shakey for providing photographic evidence that we hang out in fetish gear in the hills on a Saturday morning and for providing a fine spread at the reservoir side - with china cups!!  Now you don't get that at the Great Scottish Swim!  And finally, thanks to Pam for turning a blind eye (well, OK, not moaning as much as she was entitled to!) while I have spent hours training (she says she was at home worrying but somehow always ended up with more Markie's bags!!), all her insight from her various doctorates in cardiovascular health, sports injuries, hydrodynamics, meteorological observations, cycling biomechanics, polar expeditions and duck photography and for following me around the country and picking up the body parts that I have left behind.

So, over and out from me until next year. Shakey is threatening to keep a blog for the next couple of months.  Who knows - she might even do it and give herself a world wide audience for whingeing about her sore leg!

Oh, and as a postscript you can't trust anyone who doesn't eat burgers.  Fact.

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.