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.

 

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!





   

The Eve of the Challenge

With the first leg of the challenge on Sunday morning the nerves are frayed and doubts are preying on my mind.  On my 8 mile run tonight it did cross my mind what a damned stupid challenge this is - and then I would trip over a kerb and remind myself that I can only concentrate on one thing at a time and that should be avoiding a face plant.  As promised in the last blog I have a big revelation relating to my horrific shoulder injury that was brought to my attention earlier in the week.  While still enjoying the anaesthetic (stella and kronenbourg) after the bike crash I was taken advantage of.  Despite being in the early stages of shock from my brutally broken shoulder I was mounted, possibly without my consent, and was so traumatised by events that I have blanked the memory for two months.  Only photographic evidence has convinced me that I had the ability to support another human while in that condition.

Shakey retains Stig like disguise

In the first of a series of guest contributions while I complete the events over the next few weeks I have enlisted the help of Pam as self-styled long suffering wife, support crew and now bloggist.  As technical analysis of my new swimming technique is sparse below I will give you a brief synopsis.  Yes, one arm swimming is possible in both butterfly and front crawl style although I am slightly concerned by the prospect of cramp in the good arm.  Breastroke with both arms is no problem.  Shakey was squeezed into the rubber suit and then squealed about the cold, the dirt and the crawlies.  While executing a gallant rescue while she was in distress I stubbed my toe on a rock and had to make an emergency medical appointment.  Now, I can say for sure that a stubbed toe (with broken nail) is sorer than a broken shoulder but it doesn't feel that "ironman" going into the beauticians in Cairneyhill for what turned out to be a pedicure.  Anyway, over to Pam........

Penguins v Ducks
Monday night slobbing in front of the TV watching Penguin Island was disrupted by the need for wet suit testing.  As the self appointed coach/support crew/photographer/medic/PR it was my duty to sit at the side of Loch Ore with finger poised over the emergency call button on my phone. Two creatures from the deep waded into the Loch with a lot of moaning about the jaggy stones. Blah blah blah - toughen up if you can’t handle some stones how are you going to get through the next 3 weeks. Oh did I mention I am also in charge of team psychology/mental toughness?
Thankfully it was a still night and no matter where the creatures went I could hear their inane chatter (how to breathe, marathons, hypothermia, man eating fish - that sort of nonsense).  So with that audible but incredibly dull reassurance I could actually fit in a few games of Harbour Master and Angry Birds on the iphone without worrying about whether they were drowning. Some other bloke from the boat club was doing a more thorough job of watching them as he shouted at them to get back to where you were allowed to swim and suitably chastised, they actually did what Mr Health and Safety had asked them to do.

In one magical moment I looked up and they were swimming in the only patch of sun that was shining on the Loch. It was a tad surreal and I was quite worried at this point. It was as if angels were coming for them and the emergency button was almost pressed as I feared there had been a fatal incident involving the large swans.  But with the uneviable choice of having to mount a rescue or eavesdrop on something infinitely more interesting I was quickly distracted by the arrival of some chavvy parents and kids with their 4 legged Heinz 57. The discussion on why Heinz wasn’t trying to kill the ducks was way too interesting to remember that a swan attack was in progress.  Their conclusion was that Heinz was gay! (I may has paraphrased that - I think it was because he was soft and gentle!).

After that distraction some pictures of the very much alive ducks were required.  I am really quite proud of my efforts. Oh yes, back to the swim session.  Apparently, they hadn't drowned or been beaten to death by marauding swans but were now getting close to the shore and good support team that I am, moved their flip flops down to where they were.  I know it sounds an inconvenience but to be honest I was quite glad to get up and do something as my arse was getting sore sitting on the concrete playing games.

Apparently Monday’s episode of Penguin Island was very sad and emotional so probably best that I was with the ducks.  If Team Sky want to headhunt me for next year's Tour de France I think I can quickly adapt from swim support to pro cycling.  Job done!

So, it's probably unlikely that a career in sports journalism beckons for Pam.  Anyway, despite being on friendly terms in training there is a real grudge match between Shakey and I at the weekend as we go head to head in the Ayr Triathlon.  Never before have two so obnoxiously competitive individuals ever gone head to head in the same event.  The tale of the tape......

Believe it or not money is actually being placed on this grudge match with 25% of the takings going to the Anaphylaxis Campaign.  Let me know through the comments if you would like to have a wager.  The form briefly is as follows.....

The Paddle
Stumpy currently has a broken shoulder but despite this handicap should emerge victorious as Shakey swims like a house brick

The Peddle
Stumpy has the fear on descents since breaking his arm in a ferocious high speed downhill accident (but didn't really feel anything) but Shakey is threatening to release the brakes on the downhills and may even go one handed if she has to wipe her nose.

The Waddle
Stumpy runs like Shrek and Shakey runs like a gazelle but will have to take a loo break at some point on the course.

We independently estimated our times and came up with a one minute gap over the 90 minute event.......obviously with me winning.

I will update with a race report on Monday and will start thinking about the half ironman then.  If you haven't had the opportunity to sponsor me yet there is still time......