Where was I again?
Oh yes. Free stuff. There are some lovely people whose names all begin with K who organise a completely free sprint triathlon in Brighton on alternate Wednesday evenings. Inspirational Steve told me about them, and said 'Why don't you have a go?'. It's an 800m sea swim, followed by a 20k bike to Ovingdean and back twice, followed by a 5k run up and down Marina Drive. I thought I'd give it a go. I finished first, way before everyone else, including the awesome Tracey Harris*
Now you just know there's going to be a catch, don't you.
Indulge me for a bit.
I put one toe into the water, thought "Blimey, that's a bit cold", and turned round to get back out again. But then I remembered those three little words in the back of my mind. Whatever you do, do not do not try. (OK, that's slightly longer than three words). So, I got up to my neck in the water, thought "No, really, that's very cold", took a deep breath, and stuck my head under the water. Suddenly all these arms and legs started wiggling furiously around me. Then they were wiggling furiously slightly further away. I realised that the race had started without me. I could get out and cry like a girl, or I could wiggle my arms and legs furiously and see what happened.
What happened was that no matter how hard or fast I wiggled, everyone else was wiggling much faster. And the waves were sploshing. And I was breathing at all the wrong times. After a while I couldn't even see any other swimmers, let alone the enormous bright yellow buoys we were supposed to swim round. I tried to aim for the big pier-shaped thingy, but I wasn't sure if I was still in British waters, let alone heading in the right direction.
After what seemed like an eternity, I managed to bang my head on one of those enormous bright yellow buoys, which obviously aren't enormous or bright yellow enough for me. I've never been so relieved to bang my head on something enormous and bright yellow since the 80's. This meant that I was half-way through. I stopped, treaded water for a bit, burped more than I will ever admit, and then, well, there's no other word for it.....
I panicked.
I was last, and tired, and all burped out. My feet didn't touch the bottom and I had sea water coming out of all of my orifices. There was no-one else out there to help me. I had no choice but to swim back to shore. On my own.
I had a word with myself, although I swallowed water at the same time so couldn't quite make out what I said, but I imagined it was something motivational. Maybe it was "cake"? I took a deep breath, and promptly swallowed some more water. I then started back, swallowing water with every other stroke.
The advantage of swimming back to shore is that you can't really miss it. It fills up almost a whole horizon when the waves aren't in the way, so every few seconds I could see bits of the Brighton coastline pop into view. And, reassuringly, I could also see my bright orange rucksack, which was even more reassuringly attached to my bright orange CS**.
I made it out of the water alive, unaided and in 17 minutes. I was thrilled. Mainly about the alive bit. I was around 2 minutes behind the second slowest person. I staggered back to the start, burped a lot and fell over. What followed over the next few minutes involved me emptying a large percentage of the English Channel from my body into an Ikea bag. Through my nose. I didn't have the energy to get out of my wetsuit, let alone get on a bike and pedal like mad for the next 20k. Nope, I was done.
But, technically, I was the first person to cross the finish line.
I got to watch people on their bike and run sections. I got to cheer like a woman possessed when they crossed the finish line. I got to eat a free banana. I got to see the awesome Tracey Harris* smash the course record, and in extremely tiny knickers too. I got to see the last of the triathletes come in at 1hr 35 minutes. I got to note that the fastest I've ever completed a sprint triathlon is 1hr 47 minutes, a full 17 minutes slower than the "slow" "fat" triathlete, and 12 minutes later than the last triathlete on this course. I got to thinking about what to do.
I panicked.
Luckily Inspirational Steve was available for an emergency coffee on Friday. He gave me some fabulous advice about sea swimming. Turns out that loads of people panic on the sea swim section. The trick is to try to concentrate on not panicking. He does this by practising a swimming drill that involves tickling your armpits with your fingers, whilst singing and blowing bubbles. He finds that it takes all his concentration to achieve these three things, so he has none left over for the panicking bit. He suggested that I try it the next time I entered the triathlon. I wasn't sure.
He also said that maybe I had gotten my nutrition a bit wrong, and suggested cake before the next one. I was convinced.
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| * Tracey Harris and HIS extremely tiny knickers. This is him winning the Worthing Triathlon. He wins a lot. |
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