2014 in review - "After all, tomorrow is another year"

A while back, I wrote a list of things I wanted to do in 2014 at the start of the year.  Now it's all over and done with, I thought I'd compare what I wanted to do with what actually happened.

Things I wanted to do in BLACK
What actually happened in RED

Brighton Half Marathon - 16 Feb 2014
Last year I finished and didn't die. This year I need to finish, not die, AND do it faster than last year, which means beating all the twos - 2:22.

This year I ran with my lovely wonderful younger sister.  AKA Sis.  She hadn't trained since the Bacchus Half in October 2013.  She was right up with me on target until about 10km, when, bless her, she lost a bit of confidence and a lot of legs.  I promised I would stay with her no matter what.  Unfortunately that meant that we stopped for an indeterminate amount of time, then ran FAST for another indeterminate amount of time, then rinse and repeat.  So, basically, my race was a 10k on-pace, followed by a "Surprise!" 11km of interval training.  I'm not sure who was more knackered at the end - her or me.  
Time - 2.31.
But, can I just say??  (Yes, I can!  It's my blinking blog!)  The following week, in training for the full marathon, I managed to smash my half marathon PB down to 2:15.  I then ran another couple of miles to the nearest loo, where I VD'd.  Apparently VD doesn't mean what it used to in the 90's.  No, it means Vomiting and Diarrhoea AT THE SAME TIME.  And it's common in long distance runners.  Sod that for a laugh.  Not that it's particularly easy to laugh when you're VD'ing. 

Brighton Marathon - 6 April 2014 
Never done a marathon before.  Probably never will again.

Yip.  That's not happening again.  I finished.  I didn't die.  My time began with a 4.  But it ended with a 90.  But finally, I've done it.  And I never have to do that ever again.  Unless I want to, of course....***

Uncle Steve's Sprint(ish) Triathlon - 8 Jun 2014
This will be my third time.  Which means I have to beat my PB of 1:36, or else Uncle Steve will beat me with a stick

DID IT!  Smashed my PB by a whole 3 minutes!  And got COWBELLS! (write up and insert link)

River Arun Iron Swim - 14 Jun 2014
This is a whole 3.8km swim.  All in one go.  Need to train really hard for that one.  Might have to swim a bit, and everything.

I NAILED it!  (By that I meant I didn't finish last, and, for fleeting seconds, actually enjoyed myself)  (write up and insert link)

BTRS Half Iron #1 - 26 Jul 2014
A nice practice one for the big one at the end of the year.  Just for "fun".

Well, that'll teach me for planning.  I accidentally did a different half in May instead.  And won it!

Virgin London Olympic Distance Triathlon - 3rd Aug 2014
The original, and still the worst.  I've done it twice before, both times I've been sick in my mouth during the swim, and both times the sick has tasted nicer than the water.  Not really bothered about the time, just love it when I overtake some of the lycra-clad speed-freaks with bikes more expensive than my house (if I had one) when going up unexpected hills.

Hmmmmm.  Well, I came, I chicked, I didn't puke.  Slightly slower than last year due to a ridiculous hypo a couple of hours before the start, but hey, I didn't give up, and I was even sensible for once.

Evans Brighton Sportive, featuring the Bastard Beacon from Hell - 31 Aug 2014
Never done it, but apparently it's 90 miles of hell.  The start is also around 10 miles from home, so if I don't get a lift from anyone, this will be the equivalent of an Iron Man bike leg.

I would have done this, honest guv, but I was ill.  Really.  I even went to A&E and they didn't laugh at me.  In fact they gave me morphine, and got me specialists, and were really nice to me and everything.  They also said "no cycling or running", and I believed them.  So moving swiftly on.......

Bacchus Half Marathon - 15 Sep 2014
Now that one really is for fun.  And wine.  And hog roast.  Aiming for a personal worst

Fun was had!  Wine was had!  We recorded a PW of 3 hours 25!  Dressed up as a crayon!  Or was it a traffic cone?  Rog hoast snuffledz! More wine drunkled!  Conkled out!  Sleepsies....
Update; it appears that I managed to break my fastest 1 mile record right at the end of the race.  Note to self - if you want to go fast, run when you're very drunk, hungry, and desperately need to go to the loo. (write up and insert link)

BTRS Half Iron #2 - 4 Oct 2014 
Last year I stopped for chips and a coffee in T2 and ran the slowest half marathon-plus-1k ever.  This year I want my time to start with a 6.  Even if it ends with Eleventy Twelve.

Oh blimey.  I can't count the number of times this plan changed.
Starting from the top - the date.  It was actually 27 Sep 2014, but that was the least of my problems.
Then the distance - it was actually an Iron distance, but with a "Surprise!" 5k swim at the start.  Other than that, spot on.
However, due to nasty medical issues and slight laziness, both cycling and running were off the agenda.  But as you know, one of the wonders/annoying things about triathlon is that there's always something you can do, whether you want to or not.  In my case my mantra was "Just keep swimming", and boy, didn't I? 5k NAILED! (write up and insert link)

IRONMAN BIKE!!! 6 Nov 2014
Big Daddy took me out and kept me company for 112 miles on the bike.  It only took 13 hours, but hey, I'm an Ironman!  (If transitions can span 8 months)

ST LUCIA!!!!!! - 22 Nov 2014
Completely unplanned.  Completely brilliant.  Completely doing it again next year! (write up and insert link)


*** Um.... I've signed up for next year's marathon, even though I don't want to.

I'm famous! Again!

I was ASKED (yes, actually ASKED!) to write a 550 word piece for 220Triathlon magazine on the St Lucia Triathlon experience.  I don't even talk in sentences that short, so it took a lot of editing by a couple of brilliant lovely people (Keith and Tim) to get it down to size

Here's the published version.... (Squeeeeee!!!!)

And here's my original wafflings

My name is Issi Doyle, I am a novice triathlete, and have been for seven years now. I have a long-suffering other-half, and so far this year I've made him travel to Ireland, Malta and Burgess Hill all in the name of triathlon.

In order to make amends I suggested a nice relaxing Caribbean holiday at the end of the triathlon season.  I even suggested a specific location (St Lucia, as close to Pigeon Island as possible) and date (must include 22nd November 2014).

He gave me one of his long looks, smiled right through me, and said “Oh alright then, but this time promise me you won’t forget your race-belt like you did in Ireland.  Or your bike – remember Malta?”  How could I forget?  No, really, how could I forget MY BIKE?

So, what attracted me to the St Lucia triathlon?  Was it the chance to meet one of my all-time heroes, Daley Thompson?  Or to learn to run faster from Steve Cram?  Or the rum punch? I’ll be honest, it was all three.

Keeping to the theme of three, there were three distances to choose from;

   The Dagger  – 250m swim, 6.6km bike, 2.5k run
   The Pistol  – 750m swim, 13.2km bike, 5k run
   The Cutlass -  1,500m swim, 26.4km bike, 10k run

I chose the Pistol as it was closest to my favourite distance (sprint), although I suspected that I wouldn't be doing much of that sprinting malarkey, especially after having drunk my own body weight in rum punch in the three days building up to the main event.

There were also three mornings of masterclasses during the build-up, which were free to all race entrants (and long-suffering other-halves if they could get up in time).  And not just any masterclasses – these were from people who are either Olympians or gorgeous, or in one very notable case both.  Steve Cram and Daley Thompson gave us land-based advice, and Jamie Peterkin - google him girls (and boys), you won’t be disappointed – provided the swimming tips.

But before you could say “pass the rum punch” a few thousand times, race day dawned.

The action started at 7.30am with the Daggers.  Us Pistols started at 7.50, closely followed by the Cutlasses (and lads) at 8.00.

The swim was in the calm warm waters of Rodney Bay.  Let me repeat a couple of those words.  Calm.  Warm.  It was like stepping into a relaxing bath, and it was so nice that I didn’t want to get out.  Unfortunately you have to otherwise it’s called a “swim” not a “triathlon”.  I’m embarassed to admit that I got distracted by a shoal of fish that sent me off towards Martinique, and therefore swam a personal worst.

Me rushing out of the water like my life depended on it

The bike distance was a bit shorter than your average triathlon. The organisers said this was because the course was very technical and hilly.  They weren't wrong – the sharp turns, potholes, speed bumps and wandering American tourists contributed to the technicality.  And yes there were hills, although I've definitely seen worse in my travels. I’m embarassed to admit that I got distracted half way through the bike course by photographers, and therefore biked a personal worst.

Me being distracted by photographers

Daley Thomson telling me to "Get a bleeding move on!" when I stopped for yet another photo

The run course was flat and mostly gorgeous.  It was staffed by a great bunch of volunteers who cheered and whooped and high-fived everyone who ran past them.  I took up their offer of a good hose-down, which was a lot nicer than it sounds, I promise.  I’m embarassed to admit that I got distracted half way through the run course by a litter of extremely cute stray puppies, and therefore ran a personal worst. (No photographic proof - you're just going to have to believe me)

"I'm so hungry, I could eat a human..."

I crossed the finish line grinning from ear to there, knowing that although I’d had my “worst” race ever, I’d also had my best “race” ever.  And reader, I finished first in my age group!

OK, I was the ONLY person in my age group.

My long-suffering other-half has just suggested a nice relaxing Caribbean holiday at the end of next season.  He even suggested a specific location (St Lucia, as close to Pigeon Island as possible) and date (must include 21st November 2015)....

Fear and Loathing in London

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)

The diabetic bit - May 2014

Well, it's been a funny old month.  This time last month I was contemplating (ie terrified about) my future, what with all that tedious diabetic neuropathy that was officially diagnosed last month.

I'm still mulling it over in my head.  How do I stop it from getting worse?  The words of the consultant still echo round my (pretty vacant) head.  "Keep your blood sugar levels good, oh, and exercise lots".  Also "Yeah, you're really unlucky". 

So, what do I do in the meantime?  Be as sensible as possible in the hope that it might delay the inevitable, or live for the moment, and soak up as much as I can?

Well, I did a bit of both.  And a bit of the other.   All of which resulted in possibly my best month ever, in terms of both blood sugar and international middle distance racing.  As I said, a funny old month.

My diabetes gluten-free cake chart for May 2014

Probably the best month yet - look at all of that GREEN!
But what is that weird yellow one?

My diabetes wiggle chart for May 2014

Not a bad month.  Note the furious testing around the half-iron (18 May)
Also note the highs around 29th May - that caused a lot of head-scratching.
Turned out it was dodgy insulin

Squeeeeeee!!!!

Look - I'm FAMOUS!

My international race report got picked up by the international press!  I even got some replies and comments!

It's here in all its glory.... http://beyondgoinglong.co.uk/?p=4943, but if, like me, you're too excited/can't be bothered to click on the link, then the best bits are below (ie none of my actual writing!)

Look, that's ME!  Trying to get onto a chair!

The Maltese Middle

OK, it’s been 10 days since the Maltese Middle, and I feel I’m just about over the trauma so I can now write about it without screaming.

Let’s start with a question.

What would you do if you were given the opportunity to race in a half-iron triathlon that you actually had a chance of winning? In an international event? That may or may not have featured chocolate?

Now, this is me I’m talking about, and the only chance I’d ever have of winning something is if no-one else had entered. Guess what? There was no-one else in my age category.

There were two catches;

   1) The cut-off time was 8 hours. The last time I did a half-iron distance, it took me 7 hours 55 minutes

   2) It was in 10 days’ time. I had done absolutely no half-iron training this year.

Of course I said yes. I would love to say that it was because of the potential glory of being the Maltese Middle Female Masters champion. But really it was because this was the only opportunity I could sign up for a race and go straight into the taper stage, without bothering with any of that training nonsense beforehand. And did I mention chocolate?

So, basically, my preparation was to sit around on the sofa, eat a lot of curly wurlies, and contemplate my sanity. For 10 days.

I didn’t have to organise the trip or anything, which is good because I’m not so good at that whole organisation malarkey. The original plan was for a group of 10 friends to go to Malta for a bit of a holiday, which included a half-iron race. We (me and my long-suffering other half) had also planned to come along for a bit of a holiday, which included supporting a group of 10 friends who considered a half-iron race to be part of a holiday, the nutters.

This was supposed to be a HOLIDAY!

Actually thinking about it, I REALLY didn’t have to organise anything. I was already registered for the race, a hire bike had been ordered in my size (I don’t even KNOW my size), and my wetsuit, bike shoes and pedals had somehow made it to Malta ahead of me. Odd.

Anyway….. here are the gory details by discipline……

Swim 1.9km – 55 minutes

Ah. Remember that bit about not training for a half-iron? This included absolutely no open-water swimming whatsoever. Luckily we had a spare day beforehand for a bit of open-water practice. We found a lovely beach. OK, the sea was pretty rough (well, for me anyway), there was a strong current, and what the hell was that???? Oh yes, hundreds upon hundreds of spiny blue jellyfish.

Our swim practice the day before.
You can't actually see the jellyfish from here, which is why we all look so happy.

I managed a slightly panicked 10 minutes of thrashing around and screaming loudly whenever I saw anything blue and spiny in the water, which was a lot. I must admit, I was slightly worried that this wasn’t quite enough training for the real thing, but in retrospect it turned out that it was pretty good – the race swim was a very panicked 55 minutes of thrashing around, although by then I had learned to keep the screaming internal.

The swim course itself was an out and back past two orange buoys. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? The bay was full of buoys, none of which were orange. Even at the best of times my sighting sucks, so yes, I got lost. I then started feeling a bit dizzy, and realised, to my horror, that I had forgotten to take my first gel (I’m diabetic, and need a gel every 30 – 45 minutes during exercise or else I have a “hypo”, which is similar to what you triathlete people call “bonk”, which is nothing like what non-triathlete people call “bonk”). Yes, I was having a hypo. In open water. With no-one else around me. I was so scared about my hypo that I even forgot about the jellyfish for a bit.

Then something magical happened…..

One of my wonderful 10 friends (who ironically I had come to support), suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and said “What are you doing over here, you numpty?” Actually, he may not have said that, it was difficult for me to hear – what with my swim cap over my ears, and all my internal screaming. Then, bless him to bits, he stayed with me, navigated me round the tiny weeny little orange sticks (buoys, my arse), and guided me back to shore.

I realised that not only was my race probably over, but more importantly, he had sacrificed his own race to help me out. I owe that man a curly wurly. So, yes, I got out of the water after 55 minutes. But I was also shaking and disoriented.

T1 – 15 minutes

So, what to do? Well, obviously I needed sugar immediately, so I downed one of my gels straight away. I also needed to get out of my wetsuit. Why does it take so long to get out of a wetsuit? Or is it just me? Oddly enough, it took about as much time to get out of my wetsuit as it took for the gel to take some effect, so I thought “in for a penny and all that”, and got on my bike.

Bike – 3 hours 45 minutes

The bike course was about 2.5k to the docks, then 10 loops of 8.5k up and around an industrial estate and back down to the docks, then 2.5k back to transition.

I immediately got lost. I spent about 15 minutes wandering around the identical-looking, distinctly marshal-free back streets of Birzebbugia, which sounds like a good swear word, and in fact I used it as such. In the end I stopped and asked some locals the way to the docks. They were slightly puzzled, but politely obliged.

I finally arrived at the start of the 10 loops a good 45 minutes after I’d come out of the water. And headed straight into a long, sap-destroying climb – the first of 10 identical long, sap-destroying climbs. OK, the first lap wasn’t so bad, I was beginning to feel a bit less “screaming-in-my-head” and settled nicely into the ride. Actually, when I say settled nicely in, I’m lying. My saddle was already hurting my bum, and the handlebars were just a little bit too close for comfort. It was less “settling”, more resigning to myself that I was going to be pretty uncomfortable for the next 3+ hours, but at least I wasn’t still in that water, and hey, anything’s better than running.

After the third lap I began to get a bit bored (just like you are if you are still reading this). After the fourth lap I was losing the will to live, having cycled more than I had all year. After the fifth lap I sort of hoped that I had a puncture. You know, that horrible feeling when you’re trying to go as fast as you can, and it’s taking more effort than it should do, and for a second you want to blame your equipment, not your ability? I then thought maybe my sugar levels had dropped again, and had another gel. Finally I invoked rule number five. And blow me down with a feather – I CHICKED A BLOKE GOING UPHILL! I then got flagged down by the marshals at the top of the hill. Apparently I had a puncture. That bloke then overtook me again.

Deflated in both senses of the word.

I’m not going to tell you that I had help fixing that puncture.

But I am going to tell you that my back wheel buckled with just over 20km to go, and I cycled those last two laps with my brakes on 50% of the time. True to form, I then got lost on the way back to transition.

T2

You’re kidding, right? I couldn’t even think of running 5k, let alone completing a half marathon. I’d had a hypo on the swim, which had left me tired. I’d had a nightmare on the bike, which had used up all the muscle strength in my legs. And what? You want me to run aswell?

Ah, apparently, yes. Otherwise it’s called an “Aquabike”, and it doesn’t count.

I looked at the clock. I had just under three hours to bash out a half-marathon. I know, that’s easy for most people. I’m not most people.

I’m not ashamed to admit it. I cried. Real tears. I tried to invoke rule number five again, and started my half-hearted run/walk/shuffling. Within a couple of moments I came back into transition, took off my cycle helmet, changed into my running shoes, and started off again.

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t clever. There wasn’t much of that running malarkey either.

However there was so much support from everyone else I knew. (Yes, I know, it should have been the other way round!). Once I’d finally made it out of sight from everyone I had another mid-life crisis, stopped and sobbed. One of our group, who was running really well, came up from behind (ooh, er missus), stopped, calmed me down, and talked some sense into me. I owe her a curly wurly.

I then had someone running or walking alongside me for most of the rest of the half marathon (they were taking shifts after they’d finished), and I’ve got to tell you, they were all wonderful. Curly wurlies all round.

On the last lap it was my long-suffering other half’s turn to keep me going, to make sure I went straight on, and not detour into that really nice bar on the seafront (actually, it was a really grotty seedy-looking place, but it served alcohol and, more importantly, had chairs). He was looking at his watch a lot, telling me that I could finish in time if I continued walking, but could I just walk a little bit faster, or maybe, how about a little run, just to make sure?

I crossed that line with whole seconds to spare.

Actually I managed to complete it in 7 hours, 43 minutes and 28 seconds. I was given a medal. And a trophy. And a chair. The most important of which to me right there and then was the chair, but I didn’t have the strength to get into it. Luckily all my little helpers were around to make sure that bum finally hit seat, and, for the first time that day, I smiled.

Me, trying to get into a chair.

The Good Good Friday Run

If you are a fast, off-road specialist wearing trail shoes, you'll love it. It's a nice gentle 6k run out to Peacehaven (at the slowest persons pace), and then a run back as fast as you can.

If you're me, you're in the wrong shoes, it's a really fast 6k run out (trying to keep up with everyone else), and then a stagger back because you've done yourself in already. Oh, almost forgot - you faceplant in Rottingdean and come in last, dripping in blood.

Yeah, I'll probably do it next year too.  Details here (in case I forget) 

http://brightonsports.co.uk/good-good-friday-run