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.

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.