Why did I sign up for the VALT for the third year in a row? Was it
a) I enjoy throwing up when I swim in stinky dock water
b) I like paying over-the-odds for an Olympic distance triathlon
c) Non-existent goodie-bags are the BEST!
d) I specifically want to avoid having fun at Pride street parties
e) It costs 75 curly wurlies to park at the venue
Or was it none of the above? What WAS my motivation?
Actually, there were two;
f) Determination to get under 3 hours for the first time ever (1st year 3:41, 2nd year 3:03)
g) The chance to chick lots of blokes going uphill on the bike. Like I’ve done both years previously
You’d think knocking 3 minutes off would be reasonably easy, especially if you’ve actually done loads more training this year AND made this your “A” Olympic distance race. All I’d have to do is eat a few less curly wurlies in transition, and, BOOM! A time starting with a 2! However, folks, it was not to be.
Here comes the “fear” bit
Once we’d parked up, I jogged the 50m to the parking booth, gave them 75 curly wurlies (£15 in your currency) and jogged back. I put the running-through-treacle feeling to the back of my mind. “I’m not warmed up yet, I’m not in my running shoes, I’m not in the zone”, etc . I then remembered that I’m diabetic. I tested my blood sugars – 2.8. That’s bonking territory, even before you start the race. Any person dishing out sensible medical advice would slap me round the face for even thinking about starting. Of course I started. See reasons a) through g), but mainly e) – I’d just paid my curly wurlies. But the fear really kicked in. I’m doing this against medical advice because something “bad” could happen.
I promised myself I would take it easy, stay sensible, test throughout, adjust carbs as necessary, and stop if I felt ill. But I knew, only an hour before I started, that I wasn’t going to get under 3 hours.
Still, on the bright side, there were still hills to climb and blokes to chick, so on with the show.
SWIM 1,500m - had no idea of the time
Stupid VALT clock. Last year it showed you the wave time. This year it just showed you the time. I can’t do mental maths so I had no idea how long it had taken me. I do know that I had taken it easy, practiced the three R’s (Per Brett Sutton), and stayed with a heads-up breaststroker (NOT breastfeeder as my phone would autocorrect in an earlier FB post), so I knew it wouldn’t have been an earth-shattering time. Or even water-shattering. But, hey, look at the positives - I DIDN’T PUKE THIS TIME!
T1 – felt like forever
You have to take your wetsuit off ASAP when exiting the water. Cue a long queue of people all trying to take their wetsuits off. Also someone standing next to CS was convinced that I was losing my chip, who then convinced CS that I was losing my chip. I thought they were losing their minds – my chip was fine. Still, we spent what felt like a minute or two checking. Oh, how we laughed when it turned out I was right. Miraculously my blood sugar was OK too, so, unlike transition, let’s move swiftly on to the next bit.
Bike 40km - had no idea of the time
This time it was my stupid Garmin. Actually it was both of them. One told me that my average cadence was 197, the other one told me it was 23 degrees. No further information was available because neither of them could find any satellites. Ever.
Luckily, those who are bored enough to read about my pseudo-scientific experiments (need to write this up and link it) know that all I needed to do was take a gel beforehand, midway through, and keep drinking slightly more than I wanted to and I'd be fine. Better watch that cadence though.
But I was tired. Really tired. Hypos wipe me out, and I knew that this was going to be a struggle. Oh and there was wind. In all directions, not just from me. (Actually, for once, not at ALL from me! Yay Imodium!) I looked at that first hill and my heart sank. I just didn’t have it in my legs, and slowed down to, well, I have no idea, but at least it was still 23 degrees. I overtook a few women on mountain bikes, a woman on a GORGEOUS Bianchi, and a couple of blokes, but still I felt really knackered. Wait, what? I’ve chicked some blokes? ALREADY? Ooooh!
Bearing in mind I knew that the 3 hour mark was out of the window, I decided to leave it all on the bike. Well, on the wide safe bits anyway. I had three near misses on the narrow bits;
- A bloke dangerously overtook me in front of a medic waving a warning flag(!)
- A bloke on the other side hit a cone which went straight for me – I had to emergency stop and emergency swear (is "shittlebucks" an actual swearword?) whilst he broke his bike clips and had to pull out. Good for him.
- A bloke on the other side decided he was going to cut the course short and U-turned right in front of me, throwing yet another cone in my direction.
Hmmmm, funny how each of those near misses start with the words "A bloke"
T2 – felt like forever
Blood sugar was perfect at the end of the bike, YAY! But the run is always the worst for me, and I'd left my legs out on the bike course. I walked to the run start.
Run 10k – bloody Garmin
I know that running is the most unpredictable of the three disciplines when it comes to my blood sugars. And I don’t really like running, so don’t go out of my way to do pseudo-scientific experiments when running long distances in the heat. So I ran-walked it, hating every second, however many of them it took. I finished at 24 degrees.
Here comes the “Loathing” bit
About 500m before the end of the run I just knew that I’d sign up for it again.
Coming soon……. The sequel – Lies, Damn Lies & Statistics
Featuring a very small selection of cake charts (don't like pies) based on data extracted from the official results (once they're ready) that will make me feel better about myself.
(add photos)
