Olympic pontoon

Now, regular readers of this blog (yes, still just me) will know that I like my poker.  If they made poker an Olympic event, then I would..... well actually, I would be very surprised.  Because, although poker is shown on Sky Sports, it's not actually a sport.  Or is it?  How do you define a sport?  How do you classify things like snooker, darts, women's football and chess?

I digress.

Today I took part in the inaugural Vachery Big Swim.  It featured the Olympic pontoon, which first made me think "oooh, cards!", but then remembered that pontoon isn't (and should never be) an Olympic sport.  Nope, it used the same giant blue floaty plastic jigsaw pieces that they used for the (real) Olympic* Triathlon in Hyde Park.   Yes, I would be following in the Brownlees' footsteps.  Ok, maybe not in the same location, or in the same order even.

Due to a complete failure in the ability to read the race instructions, I arrived in plenty of time.  I got my timing chip and queued up with all the other swimmers.  I got chatting to an elderly woman who cheerfully announced that she would definitely be last as she only learned to swim earlier this year.  I knew better.

I was more than nervous.  This is my first open water 1500m.  Ever.  My next open water 1500m will be in about a month's time.  But that one will be closely followed by a 40km bike ride.  And then (hopefully?) a 10k run.

But then I saw the lake we would be swimming in.  It was absolutely gorgeous.  Here, have a look;

The lake at Vachery Estate.  It really is beautiful.  It is also full of triffids

I don't know why I expected the lake to be warm - it was much colder than expected.  Yes, I know I say that every single time, but it's true every single time.  But luckily I had my super dooper 13.5 tog** wetsuit on and so only my feet, hands and face froze.

We all set off at the same time, although I purposely held back a bit.  I even let the 68 year old woman get a head start on me.  I wasn't racing, I just wanted to see what happened if I took it easy and tried not to panic.  I was surprised when I banged my head on the great yellow buoy at the halfway point.  I was almost disappointed in fact, I was having so much fun I didn't want it to stop.  I looked up and saw a lot of white spheres in front of me.  I looked behind me and saw, well, nothing except water.  Yes, I was last, but I was happy.

But then a few minutes later, something slippery slithered over me.  And then it happened again.  I looked up to see a couple of orange spheres ahead of me.  I looked behind me and saw a couple of hundred orange spheres behind me.  Of course, it was the second wave of swimmers.  They had started about 10 minutes behind us, and were already beginning to overtake.  I didn't mind - I was having fun.  And then it happened.  I overtook a white sphere. Yes, I wasn't last any more.  Bonus!

Results here;

There's me, 39th out of 45 people, setting a PB of 40 minutes 16 seconds.
The 68 year old who learned to swim a few months earlier finished almost 5 minutes ahead of me

* That certainly wins a price for the most tenuous Olympic link so far this year.
** Not officially tested

Boring Race Report

OK, so actually it wasn't a race.  It was more of a practice.  My goal was to get all the way from the start to the end, unaided, and without either drowning or panicking.  And, wow I did it.  In fact it was one of the most enjoyable swims I have ever done.  The weather was gorgeous, there were no waves or sharks, and although I got attacked by some triffids (or "lily pads" as the locals called them), I stayed nice and calm throughout.  I must admit that I need to work on my sense of direction, as I'm pretty sure I swam in zigzags most of the way.  Two things made me think that;
a) when I was swum over by the next wave, they all swam across me, sometimes my head was to the left, sometimes it was to the right.  They were swimming almost perpendicular to me.
b) towards the end a lovely lady in a canoe paddled over to me and said "I know you're tired, but please can you try to aim for the pontoon?  You must recognise it, it was used for the Olympics, don't you know?".  I wanted to say "I'm not tired, I'm relaxed.  There's a difference, don't you know?", but didn't have the energy.

I finished in just over 40 minutes, and felt like I could go on to cycle 40km if I needed to.  Except I was asleep within the hour.

A funny thing happened on the way to the casino

Mindful of the wonderful performances by Mo Farah who won gold in the 10k one week and gold in the 5k the following week, and the fact that I watched these great performances from the casino, I thought I had better get both my arse and bike* into gear.  I know that this Olympics is supposed to inspire a generation (or in my case insipire a geriatric), but surely that involves actually getting up and doing something, and not gawping at the telly screen whilst holding two random cards and almost winning lots of money with them.

It sort of did.

It inspired a whole bunch of people in unfetching yellow t-shirts to run up and down Hove Lawns.  I noticed them as I drove past on the way to dinner one night.  I made a mental note - not only were they bright yellow, but they weren't going very fast.

It inspired a whole bunch of people in tight lycra to swim, cycle and run up and down Madeira Drive.  I noticed them as I drove past on the way to the pub one night.  I made a mental note - not only were they in extremely tight clothes, they were all going very fast.  In fact some of them overtook us.

Back to the yellow people.  It turns out that there is a running club called the Sweatshop Running Community.  Sweatshop is a chain of stores specialising in running paraphernalia.  I'm not sure if I could come up with a worse name for a running shop if I tried.  But, bless them, not only do they organise FREE 5k runs, but they also give you a free t-shirt when you complete five of them.

I may have mentioned that I'd do almost anything for a free t-shirt.  I've done three runs already.

I'm working on the lycra-clad speedsters.

There's no getting away from that yellow.
Might go nicely with my luminous-from-space-orange rucksack and puke-green trainers.

* Did I tell you that some bastard stole my bike?  My lovely shiny faithful road bike?  The one I use for all my triathlons?  And for life in general?  I probably didn't because, to be honest, I was too annoyed to trust myself to not go into another long rant.

Did I tell you that CS bought me a new bike?  It's more lovely and shiny than the nicked one.  I want to use it for all my triathlons and for life in general, but I'm too scared about it getting stolen.  So CS also bought me a lock.  It's a "Fugheddabouddit" lock, which apparently is so good that even people in New York can use it and not have to worry about anything.  It's like Fort Knox.  And just like Fort Knox, it's also really heavy and involves having to remember keys.  I'm not very good at carrying heavy things.  I'm not very good at remembering things.  I'm very good at having bikes stolen.   It'll end in tears.

The games

Oh, it's been an amazing couple of weeks.  All the way from the opening ceremony to after the Coldplay gig, oops I mean the closing ceremony.   Except for the men's cyling road race - that's a few hours of my life I'll never get back.

I don't want it to end.  Mainly because it means that it's getting closer to my Olympic sized triathlon, but also because I've been watching so intently that I haven't been able to actually do any of that sporty stuff I've been watching.

In no particular order, my favourite bits of the London Olympics were;

• The word Mo, and all the things you could attach to it.  MoBot, MoJo, MoTivation, MoLybdenum to name a few.  But especially Mo Farah.  He ran 5,000m in a blistering 13:41.  And he did this tactically - you could see he wasn't flat out for most of it.

Mo Farah winning the 5,000m. With jazz hands.

• The bloke who finished second in the 10,000m, whose name temporarily escapes me.  Yes, Mo won it, in another blistering (he must have a lot of blisters, that boy) 27:30, but the bloke who came second was just as thrilled as Mo by the result.

Galen Rupp, the bloke who finished second.  He trains with Mo and helped Mo to win the 10,000m.
He was the first US person to win a middle distance medal since 1964.  What would I do without wikipedia?

• Mo, Bolt and their love child - the MoBolt.  Bolt started his race with "the nimbleness of a wardrobe" according to the BBC commentary.  Now if a wardrobe can win a gold medal in the 100m sprint, then a half-arsed wobbly-arsed Billy* can get a finishers medal in her own personal Olympics.  Even if she has to bid for it on e-bay.

• What the official London 2012 Olympics site had to say about Mo;

The Official London 2012 Olympics site.  Mo who?

My first four points have all been about Mo - maybe I'm a bit "Mo-Bsessed".  See what I did there?  No, me neither.  So Mo-Ving on....

• The Queen.  I can't remember a time when the Queen ever made it as a highlight in any of my lists, imaginary or otherwise.  But she stole the show in the opening ceremony

The Queen.  Gawd Bless Her, as the song goes.

• 4th August 2012.  This was the best night EVER for GB athletics, when we won three track and field gold medals in the space of an hour.  But as JEnnis competed in the Heptathlon (note to self - don't even THINK about it), technically it should be nine gold medals.

Mo, JEnnis and that other bloke, all winning gold.  Yes, I snuck Mo in there again.

• The final medal table.  No, not that one (although Team GB's bronze isn't to be sniffed at), but this one;

The only medal table that counts.  GB at the top of the Triathlon medal table

• The words "London", "2012" and "Olympics" were only allowed to be used by official sponsors, but that didn't stop imaginative marketing departments of other companies.  There were lots of references to "the games", "major sporting event in the Capital", "lots of running skipping and jumping over there", "half of 4024" etc etc.  It was like watching a game of Taboo played by people with no imagination

Of course there are a billion other things that made the Olympics so special.  Some of which didn't involve Mo.  If I was to highlight all of these then I would have absolutely no time whatsoever to do any training.  Now there's a thought.....

* Or any other suitable furniture item from Ikea - probably with a few screws missing.

The other Olympic distance triathlon

Luminous orange rucksack visible from space, CS and I went all the way up to London to watch the Womens* Triathlon on Saturday.  We didn't have tickets for the main area in the middle of the Serpentine, which was a shame.  Sort of wished I'd applied for tickets now.   However luckily this was one of a handful of events which allowed for people to line the streets for free.  OK, don't quote me on the handful number, and anyway, how can you hold events in your hand? Still.  The words "free", "Olympics", "triathlon", and "just watching not taking part" got me out of bed and up to London in time for the second half of the bike section.

Me outside Buck House with luminous orange rucksack visible from space

We found a space to stand, and then all of a sudden out of nowhere a whole load of bikes came whizzing past at an amazing speed.  They zoomed round a corner, and then a whole bunch of athletes fell off their bikes.  Now I know I shouldn't have laughed.  Technically I wasn't laughing at them, I was just relieved that the sort of thing that happens to me on a regular basis also happens to people who actually know what they are doing.

The race itself, with Lucy Hall in the middle, just before a load of people stacked it.
None of their bums look big.

We had no idea who was winning as we made our way to Hyde Park to see if we could see anything of the 10k run (which we couldn't).  So it was really exciting when we got to the Serpentine to hear the medal ceremony.  And then really disappointing to hear the Swiss National Anthem.  Oh well, there's always Tuesday.

The closest we could get to the medal ceremony.  They played Chariots of Fire at the beginning.
Then they played the Swiss National Anthem, boo.

And then it was Tuesday.  I would have loved to have watched the Mens* Triathlon live in London but annoyingly, work got in the way.  I even tried to watch it on the iPlayer, but had a meeting on something so important I can't even remember what it was.  However, the BBC coverage was so absolutely spectacularly brilliant that since I got home I have managed to watch it a few thousand times over.  Every time I watch it, I think Gomez will win, and that Johnny B should get off the bike earlier to avoid any penalty.  But no, every time Ali B wins it. Woohoo!  

AB winning the Triathlon.  He wins it every time I watch it.

Well, if a Brit can win the Olympic triathlon in August 2012, then maybe another Brit can finish her Olympic triathlon in September.  Just don't stack it on the bike again.

* There should be an apostrophe somewhere but for now an asterisk will have to do.

Inspiration revisited

How did it get to be August so quick?  I'm sure that only a few days ago it was cold, miserable and wet.  Oh, wait, yes, that was July.

If it's August now, then it means that it will be September in about a month, give or take.  And September is when I'm supposed to be hopping, skipping and jumping my way through an Olympic Distance triathlon.

Am I prepared?  Am I f**k.  I haven't trained as much as I should have.  Sure I have excuses - being diabetic and asthmatic hasn't really helped.   But, if I'm really honest with myself - something I have successfully avoided for the first thirty ten years of my life - it's been the fear of failing that has stopped me from trying as hard as I could.  Which is extremely silly, because the only way that you can guarantee failure is if you don't try.  What was I thinking?

Cake.  I was probably thinking about cake.  I'm always thinking about cake.

I must confess to having a bit of a wobble this week, and I'm not just talking about my bum. Doubt has set in.  The doubt about not being able to swim a whole 1,500m without panicking, or cycle a whole 40km without hypoing, or running a whole10k without..... wait, just running a whole 10k.  I still haven't actually managed to run that far at all, let alone after a panic-less swim or a hypo-less 40km cycle.

I've got almost exactly seven weeks to prepare.  Six if you count the taper.  That's the only discipline I'm confident in.  Sitting on my arse, eating chocolate?  I've been training hard for that bit most of my life.

I really needed to get me some inspiration this week.  Who do we know who can inspire?  Who does inspire?  Who has inspired?  Who has Type 1 Diabetes and also does triathlons?  Who has an ometer named after him?  Yes, it's Inspirational Steve.

But Inspirational Steve was unavailable.  Unavailable Steve had come down with a nasty infection, unfortunately annoyingly common in people with Type 1 Diabetes.  Blimey, if Unavailable Steve can get floored with Diabetes, what hope is there for the likes of me?

I had a bit of a wallow, I must admit.  Wallow in self-pity, and wallow in sadness for others with Diabetes who struggle every day.  That's a lot of wallowing.  And I had a bit of chocolate, I must admit.  Chocolate for me, and chocolate for others with Diabetes who struggle every day.  That's a lot of chocolate.

Still, I needed to find some inspiration.  Where was I going to find some if Inspirational Steve was unavailable?  I'll tell you where. Right in front of my face.

I may have mentioned something about a triathlon next month. I know I've been obsessing about all year. I'm doing it primarily to see if I can, but also to raise money for a charity called Aspire, who help people with spinal injuries.  I could have chosen many other charities, Diabetes UK, or Asthma UK, or any other charity which has been rebranded to include a "UK" somewhere.  Aspire are a charity that help people with spinal injuries.  I definitely remember the time I got hit by an arcticulated* truck, and broke my back in three places.  I will never forget the pain, the fear, the cheesecake** or the inaccurate reporting from the local newspaper (I was thirty-ten, not "in her forties").  One day I will write about it in more detail.  For now, just trust me, pain and fear are a horrible combination.  Even if accompanied by cheesecake.

I'm lucky - I managed to break the best bones possible in my back.  The ones that you can break and make it sound extremely impressive to the average person on the street.  But they are also the ones that illicit a disappointed "Humph.  Back to the golf course" from the on-call orthopedic consultants prepped for emergency surgery.  Armed with only the best opiod-based painkillers in the world, I could stagger 20 paces to the loo within a few days.  I could walk the 200m down the road after a few weeks.  Sounds a bit like a typical parkrun recovery, but it was worse than that.  10 weeks later I was back on a bike for short distances.  It took longer to swim due to the additional nerve damage and broken collarbone, which was missed at the time mainly because I kept shouting "Ow, my back!", not "Ow, my nerves!" or "Ow, my collarbone!".  It took even longer to start running again, and I'm still nowhere near back to the fitness I had before I bumped into that truck***.

But others aren't so lucky.  Some people don't make a full recovery.  Some people don't recover at all.  Some people face daily struggles much worse than mine.  It's easy to forget this.

I complain about the panicking when I swim in open water.  I complain about the hypos when I cycle.  I complain about the pain in my feet when I run.  I complain a lot.  Especially to my nearest and dearest.  Especially to my loveli friend.  My loveli friend who was in an accident when she was 9.  My loveli friend who struggles to walk.  My loveli friend who listens patiently to all my complaining, whinging and moaning about running, but who can't run herself.

I'm doing this triathlon for Aspire, and for my loveli friend.  Aspirational Ami.

Ami and I are swimming the Channel for Aspire together.  We started tonight in Hove.

Are we nearly there yet?

* Yes, it was arcticulated - it was from Iceland.
** The cheesecake wasn't.
*** Although that's not saying much - my parkrun PB was a smidgen under 28 minutes.