Annus horribilis

For those who don't speak Latin, no, that's not horrible backside, it's what the Queen endured in 1992 and in modern day parlance would be best described as a year from absolute hell. I am having one right now. 

Boy, oh boy. Where to begin with this one? Soooooo much has happened since my last post, and none of it in any way good. If I listed it all it would read like an Eastenders script. My whole world as I knew it has been flipped on its head over the last two months and it has certainly highlighted to me what is important in life and how trivial the insignificant things that I previously stressed over, such as doing well at parkrun or in my local sprint tri, are in comparison. I’m not going to give all the details because it’s personal, involves other people whose privacy I must respect, and the whys and wherefores are all irrelevant anyway. The point is, a lot of difficult things have all occurred within a short space of time, a veritable annus horribilis, and made me realise two things: 1) I am stronger than I realised, 2) I need to give a few less fucks about what other people think of me, by which I mean people who are not important to me: those whom I’ve never met, vague acquaintances, racing rivals, social media followers etc. In the past I would be scared about showing up out of shape to a race through fear of who would see the results and judge me on that poor performance without knowing the circumstances that led up to it. Now I realise that the people who matter already know what’s going on and why I ran slowly / took it easy / ran out of steam, and if they don’t know, then it’s because their opinion doesn’t matter.

With that in mind, the day after being given the medical all clear to recommence exercise, I decided to take up my place at the Exe Valley Triathlon. I had already spent £40 on the entry and couldn’t sell it on, so I thought what do I have to lose? I know I’ll be rubbish, I know it won’t feel anything like where I left off 2 months ago, but what the hell, just go and enjoy it. It was a warm sunny day, 5 of my fellow N1 club mates were racing, I had nothing else planned, so why not? It’s truly terrifying how much fitness you can lose in 8 short weeks. I posted my slowest ever 400m time (8:08, the only time I’ve ever raced a 400m in over 8 minutes). I had zero rhythm, my arms ached after just 16 poxy lengths and I was gasping for air. My usual bilateral breathing was cast aside after just two lengths in desperation to get more oxygen into my lungs. The bike felt the least bad of the three disciplines; I still had power in the legs but I had no puff, so the second I hit an incline, I’d be wheezing like a billygoat, when that is where I normally make my gains. The run was atrocious. Aside from the no exercise thing, I hadn’t run for some time before that with a calf niggle, so this was the first time I’d run in well over 2 months. No rhythm, no puff, no leg speed. I usually post the fastest female run split at tris and make up for the crappy swim on this discipline, but today I was outside the top 10 fastest times, taking nearly 23 mins for the 5k. Disastrous. I finished 7^th female and 3^rd in my age group; the only time I’ve finished as low as this was at my very first ‘trial’ triathlon in 2014 when I swam breaststroke, got changed into dry clothes in T1 and did the bike leg on a rickety £150 hybrid! But who cares? I enjoyed it as I had no expectation on myself to “perform”. And who cares what people think (if indeed they even care!) when they see the results? I know the score and I can now come in stealth and sock it to them next time when they are expecting me to be crap again! It’s good to keep people guessing!

Hmm, now, can I still remember how to swim after 8 weeks? ... In fact, I could n't really swim before, so whatever. Que sera sera.

Let's get this show on the road. 3, 2, 1...

It's all about the tongue!

I get by with a little help from my friends. With one of my besties, Jane. She and my other cycling buddies have been amazing these past few weeks. I appreciate you all.

N1 massive at Exe Valley Tri.

The past few months have truly confirmed who my real friends are. They are the ones who aren’t afraid to contact you through fear of saying the wrong thing or not knowing what to say; they are the ones who keep letting you know they are there and thinking of you. It has also confirmed that I have the best support network around me, from my amazing GP, to my sponsor, Patrick of PDW Sports Massage, to my physio Nigel at Honiton Physio, and to my coach, Chris of Tri Coach Cornwall. None of them have put any pressure on me to get back into training; they have all been kind and supportive and let me know that they are there and happy to help in any way they can.

My season is now panning out very differently to what I had envisaged. The World Duathlon Championships in Denmark in July are off the agenda: after 3 weeks of reduced training and 5 weeks of no training, in fact, of no exercise whatsoever, there simply isn’t enough time to get fit enough to be competitive. It is a shame I opted for the standard distance and not the sprint, as, with the latter, I may still have had a shot, but gaining both speed and endurance within a 5 week turnaround simply isn’t feasible. Not to beat around the bush, it’s a bummer. I was in the shape of my life when I qualified in February and definitely in a position to challenge for a medal if I could continue to build from there. But, shoulda woulda coulda…. I can’t. Circs have conspired against me and 2018 simply isn’t proving to be my year. But, oddly, having made the decision not to go to Denmark, I am now much happier. I felt worse with the indecision: Should I go? Will I be happy to go knowing I’m nowhere near full fitness? Would I rather go and enjoy the experience with my friends Jane and Moira (who have qualified for the sprint race) even though I know I won’t be able to match the performance I delivered in Soria? Would I rather just go and watch and support them? Would I be able to handle being there and yet not being a part of it? If I do give it a go, will I wreck my body for the rest of the season and then regret it? There was simply too much pressure and uncertainty and, in the end, Matt made me realise that what I actually need is a proper relaxing holiday, with no race attached, to just get away from it all. So that’s what we’re going to do and the competitive focus will shift to the Europeans in Ibiza in October, allowing me time to prepare properly.

So, this summer my main goal is now to just have some fun and get some joy back in my life. I really loved the Nello sportive last year, but I only did the 55 mile option…. There is also a 100 mile option and I have never done a century ride, so that is currently piquing my interest. Problem is, it’s in three weeks’ time and I am presently only up to about 50 miles… but I do relish a challenge! Also, the 100 is the same price as the 55, and the Yorkshire lass in me appreciates value for money! I may also enter some local tris and low-key races later in the summer, if I fancy it. No pressure. Coffee rides with my buddies though are very much on the agenda; Garry and I have plans for a Tour de Devon ride, sampling as many of our favourite coffee stops on the way!

So many thanks as always to the usual suspects:

Patrick Ward of PDW Sports massage for staying loyal to me and continuing to sponsor me, even though I won’t now be achieving all the things we had planned for the season.

Chris Dominey of Tri Coach Cornwall: for all his support as both a coach and friend and for not pressurising me by allowing me a free reign to make decisions in my own time.

Nigel Wilman of Honiton Physio: without question the most talented, knowledgeable and trustworthy physio I have ever seen (and trust me, I’ve seen a lot of physios!). In it for all the right reasons; a true master of his profession.

All my friends, both local and afar, for all your support. Too many to name you all, but you all know who you are and how much I appreciate you all.

My Mattie. Always there. Always fighting my corner. Always patient, kind, thoughtful, caring. Husband in a gazillion! Mwah!