First. GB. Vest.

Last weekend (18^th March), I took part in my first duathlon at Clumber Park in Nottinghamshire. (Well, my first proper duathlon – I had done one of N1’s summer series mini dus at Westpoint Arena last summer, but these are low-key, training affairs, with about 15 participants – not quite on the scale of the 1000 entrants of this one!). I had kept fairly quiet about my participation in this event as it was the first of three qualification events for the GB age-group sprint duathlon team for the 2017 European championships and so I didn’t want to put added pressure on myself, advertise it and then go there and be shit! For those of you not familiar with how the GB age-group qualification system works – and without boring the pants off you – here's a brief summary:

There are 20 available slots in each age-group. There are 3 qualifying events for each championship. You have to finish in the top 4 in your age group at one of these events in order to secure guaranteed qualification. The remaining 4 places are reserved for pre-qualified athletes (who medalled at the same championships the previous year) and/or discretionary / roll down places for athletes who finish 5^th / 6^th in an event but who are within 115% of the age-group winner’s finishing time. More info for geeks here: http://www.britishtriathlon.org/ge-gb-teams/age-group/detail/2017-ETU-Sprint-Distance-Duathlon-European-Championships_5980

At Clumber Park there were two different events being held concurrently; one was the standard distance (10k run, 40k bike 5k run), the other the sprint (5k run, 20k bike, 2.5k run). Due to the fact that I am still building up both my running mileage (after injury) and my biking mileage (after the winter), I thought it was too early in the season to tackle the standard, so I opted for the sprint. I should point out that in triathlon parlance the word ‘sprint’ is somewhat erroneous, as you can’t go flat out for 7.5k of running and 20k of cycling; there has to be some element of pacing involved. It just signifies that it’s the shortest distance on offer comparatively.

There is a lot of commitment needed for an event such as this. I had to enter well in advance, as the places soon sell out, and, for me, this always carries with it the worry of entering, paying, getting injured, being unable to compete, losing money. Unfortunately, due to insurance costs, tris and dus aren’t cheap: we’re not talking turning up on the day and paying a tenner here, like my running days of old! Also, none of the qualifying events are in the southwest this year. This adds transport and accommodation costs into the equation. When you also factor in that Matt, my supporter in chief, then has to take holiday time from work, there is definitely added pressure for me to make the trip count.

It had been a hectic week for Matt: he’d been in London all day Tuesday for a conference, leaving the house at 5am, not getting home until 10:30pm; then on Wednesday he headed to Liverpool for one of his hospital programme assessments. He stayed overnight then got the train to Alfreton on Thursday, where I picked him up in the car Thursday night, having tackled my own personal challenges in the shape of the M5, M42 and M1! To ensure we enjoyed the weekend, regardless of the outcome of my race, we booked a lovely hotel (the Maypole at Wellow, recommend it, check it out: http://www.maypoleinn.com/www.maypoleinn.com/HOME.html ) 

Our hotel for 4 nights - the Maypole, at Wellow.

View of said maypole from our room, from whence its name is derived.

It was in a nice area, being just on the edge of Sherwood Forest. We decided to stay for 4 nights as, with the duathlon being on the Saturday, it meant we’d then have a full day at the end to relax and explore. There was a moment of awkwardness when I asked the lady at check-in if I could take my bike up to the room. I asked out of courtesy more than anything, not imagining it to be a problem, but her combined look of consternation and perplexity suggested otherwise. If in doubt, call the manager, who then appeared in order to personally escort me out to my car where he proceeded to inspect my bike for cleanliness by running his hands around the entire circumference of both wheels. This activity was succeeded by him inspecting his palms and announcing: Congratulations, you keep a very clean bike, you may bring it in. (Oh, golly, thanks!) Fortunately he neglected to run his hands over the oily chainset, or I’d have had to revert to my default line of attack and proposition him that either Cannondale checks in with me, or we’ll all be finding alternative accommodation! Mild annoyance that we had been allocated the room upstairs, the furthest away from the main entrance, but luckily Cannondale is light and rather mobile. He settled into his accommodation with ease.

I hope you are comfortable, Cannondale; I had a fight on my hands to get you in here!

The Friday morning we headed over to Clumber Park to check out the venue and the bike and run routes. Entering the park we were greeted with this view:

Limekiln avenue - a lovely section of the bike course through Clumber Park.

This is part of the bike section – a long, tree-lined avenue – and I was starting to get excited about the race. The bonus of the venue was that it’s owned by my employer – the National Trust – meaning I avoided the £7 parking charge and managed to wangle cheap tea and coffee by flashing my staff card!

Neither the bike nor the run routes were flat, but, given the choice, I’d prefer that. My strengths in both disciplines definitely lie in climbing and so the undulating course appealed. Crucially, the road surface seemed clean, much to my relief, as my worst fear was spending all the time, effort and money to get there, only for me to puncture on the bike: in a sprint distance, that would mean game over.

Saturday morning came and it was a relatively civilised – by triathlon standards! – wake-up call of 6:45am for me. The event was just a 15 minute drive from our hotel. I was one of the first people to arrive – I always am, I hate to be rushed, it adds to the stress – and so I whizzed through registration and racking in no time. One minor concern was that the ‘bike-out’ route from transition was over grass that was littered with fresh mole-hills. I had visions of my cleats clogging up with mole-hill soil and being unable to clip in! I spent some time figuring out a route that would avoid treading in any!

It was a wave start format. I was in wave 4, starting at 8:51am, along with all the female athletes for the sprint distance aged 30+ (the under 30s started 2 minutes earlier in wave 3). Off on the first run and one lady shot off the front at speed whilst I tucked in to a group of about 5 or 6 other females. A mile in and I had managed to pull ahead of all these females in this pack and was making in-roads on the lady who went off (too) fast. I also started to catch the stragglers of wave 3 and was steadily making progress, with my first two mile splits being 6:13 and 6:15 respectively. At the turnaround I caught the fast-starting lady from my wave and I arrived into T1 in the lead after the first run. I was, however, under no illusions that I would be able to sustain this lead once we departed on the bike! The run is by far my strongest phase and so I needed to bank all the time I could on that. 

On the first, 5k, run.

A far from perfect but far from awful T1 done with and I was off on the bike. The first 4 miles were predominantly downhill, so a nice easy start to establish rhythm, then we left the parkland, swung a left onto the main road, and encountered our first climb. This is where I started to overtake riders in front of me: getting out of the saddle and dancing on the pedals is what I love to do and so I made sure I got off the comfort of the tri bars and up onto the hoods to push every climb. My weakness is definitely to be found in bike handling and in my lack of nerve. Cornering, I would lose ground on the riders in front with my excessive braking, lose my rhythm and have to work hard to get back in touch. On this next section, which was a long, straight, undulating road, there was a strong headwind. I found the going tough on here and got passed by a couple of ladies who I recognised from my wave, but, of course, they could have been any age from 30 to 60+, so without actually asking them as they flew past: ‘Excuse me, are you in the 30-34 age group?’, you have no way of knowing what position you are in within your category. I wasn’t aware of any other women coming past though, so I felt that I must be doing ok.

Loving the bike!

Coming into Clumber Park at around the 9 mile point on the bike.

T2.

The second run - definitely not as comfy as the first! Thankfully only half the distance.

T2, the usual faff with shoes exacerbated by my fingers now being semi-numb due to the cold wind / fingerless gloves combo, and out of transition I go with a mere 2.5k of running left to do. 2.5k, half a parkrun, that’s nothing…. except that just a few hundred meters in, I developed a horrendous stitch. Stitch is not something I usually suffer from and, if ever I have, they have been mild and have soon passed. This bugger wouldn’t shift. It was particularly uncomfortable on the downhill sections and it slowed my pace considerably: I usually run really well off the bike, not today. Maybe I took on too much fluid on the bike? Maybe I was tense – try to relax (easier said than done when you’re in pain!). I ran about 2k of this run holding my side and/or wincing. Finally, as I mounted the last hill and turned towards the finish, the stitch vanished, and so I was able to raise some kind of concerted push for the line. My finish time: 1:08:23. Run 1: 19:10 (pleased with this, fastest 5k for a long while!), bike – 36:36 (meh, nothing to set the world on fire, but I know my bike training has been pants over the winter, so I couldn’t really ask for more), run 2 – 9:57 (given the stitch, not too shocking, but could definitely have done better). T1 – 1:19, T2 – 1:20 (average).

Post-race pose! Glad it's done - now I can relax!

As the event was chip timed, you could get a print out of your results there and then to see how you’d done position wise and so I hoped it would tell me my position within my age-group. Unfortunately it did not, only my overall position, so I didn’t know if I’d qualified or not. It was a bitterly cold day and I was starting to shiver, hanging around outside, but I was desperate to know if I had secured one of the GB places. Matt suggested that if we wait for the prize-giving, they might announce the winners’ times, then I would at least have an idea of how far behind the winner in my category I was and whether or not I had a chance of having made the top 4. There was the usual delay with the presentations and I was getting colder and colder and so we were about to give up and leave, then the announcer came on the PA for the prize-giving. When it got to my age-group, he announced, ‘And the winner of the female 30-34 category, in a time of 1:08:23….’. My grey matter woke up and said, ‘Hang on a minute, that’s my time!’, ‘…. is Ellie Dominey of N1 Tri Club’. I honestly couldn’t believe it. I never in my wildest dreams would have gone here expecting to win my category at the first (renowned for being the most competitive as everyone wants to get qualification out of the way early), of the three qualifying events. I was hoping to scrape in with a 3^rd or 4^th spot, but winning never crossed my radar. I actually started to shake and cry with joy, I couldn’t believe it. (Even when I won Guernsey Marathon I didn’t feel this shocked… I guess I’d had 26 miles out in the lead to get used to the idea that that was happening there, but this one came as a total shock). My prize? A fab trophy, a kit voucher for a Nottingham based tri store and a 24 pack of lager. ‘Oooh, yeah, a decent prize’, exclaimed a joyous looking Matt as he inspected the haul, shortly followed by a rather more deflated expression and: ‘Wait, what’s this say? Alcohol free?! What’s all that about?!’ I guess they discourage wannabe GB athletes from swilling alcohol before they represent their country!!

With my prizes... the beer is alcohol free, much to Matt's consternation!

The day was topped off with a trip into Nottingham in the afternoon as Exeter just happened to be playing away to Notts County…. and they won, 4-1, their best performance of the season! Meanwhile, I went into the city, spent my tri kit voucher (new over-shoes for the bike and wetsuit repair kit), had coffee in Starbucks and watched the world go by. That night, celebrating mine (oh and of course Exeter’s) win, we enjoyed a rather large meal at the village pub opposite our hotel… and I enjoyed a couple of proseccos. The alcohol free lager remained in the car.

Enjoying a delicious post-race meal in the local opposite our hotel - how much food?!

I would like to point out that I could not have achieved this without the support of my amazing husband, with his unflappable, calming, chilled-out presence. Both before the event by planning the hotels, the journey, things to do on route, and during, by holding my bag, my water, my inhaler, my number etc. as I dashed off for the 4^th of 6 pre-race wees in the bushes (sorry, Clumber Park, that my scent markings are now scattered all over you…). But also, I could never have even contemplated entering something like this without the support, encouragement and advice from my tri club, N1. Dennis and Liz Elliott, in particular, have been amazing, especially considering that this over-enthusiastic, over-loud, over-exuberant, but clueless newbie only joined their ranks last August. Everyone in the club has been so welcoming, it was great to be able to reward their faith in me with this victory. Thanks N1! Here’s to a great year for the club. J

Afterwards, I enjoyed some time exploring the Peak District (above) and Sherwood Forest (below) with my number 1 husband and supporter :-) Thank you Mattie. xxx

Wintering well

As some of you know, I used to be a horse riding fanatic and had a horse on loan when I was living in North Wales during my postgrad studies. Her name was Arrie; well, her stable name was Arrie, her official papers listed her as ‘Moonlight Dancer’, which, given her quite extraordinary ability to break out the disco moves and deposit me on the floor at the most unexpected of moments, was not a total misnomer. A dislocated shoulder and a crushed hand were just a couple of the injuries I had the pleasure to experience whilst in her company (or, rather, whilst parting company from her…). Hence the reason why I don’t ride at the moment: I am more than capable of injuring myself with overuse injuries and do not need a horse to add greater variety and severity to the mix! A bad fall could put me out of competition for the season, maybe even for good, so for now, horse is off the menu.

Where did horses come into this? Well, mainly because I was watching the Glasgow Indoor athletics on the BBC last weekend and Denise Lewis mentioned in commentary that an athlete had ‘wintered well’. To a horsey person, this sounds odd to hear, as this is what we would say about our steeds as we put them out to grass for the spring in good condition. So I suppose, for an athlete, wintering well means coming out of February fit, injury free and with a few solid months of winter training behind you. For me, it also has another meaning: wintering well means learning how to avoid the bleaker aspects of our British winter by escaping to sunnier climbs for a few weeks. Such is what I have just had the pleasure to do, having returned from an amazing winter break in the Maldives last week.

The Maldives may not seem like the ideal warm weather training venue for a triathlete: cycling is impossible as the entire island is composed of think sand and is only half a mile long and 200yds wide. Running is also problematic for the same reasons. Swimming, well, the swimming couldn’t be better, but you wouldn’t typically fly all that way just for some swim training. No, our Maldives trip was not designed around my triathloning. I am extremely lucky in that I have gone there on holiday since February 1992, when I was 8 years old. I have now been to this amazing country a total of 18 times and it has become a sort of home from home. The people there are so lovely and friendly and the place is just unrivalled in terms of its uniqueness. It is a bit like a drug: you can only go so long before you need another fix!

This time we stayed on the island of Vilamendoo. I have stayed here once before in April 2014. It’s perfect. Training wise, there are 2 swimming pools (one exclusively for adults, 20m long), the other 24m long (not sure of the logic in stopping a meter short of 25, but nevermind). Then there is the sea: the crystal clear azure waters of the Indian Ocean, right outside your room. The island has a gym, equipped with brand new kit: 3 treadmills, 3 bikes, squat rack, free weights, gym balls, leg press, shoulder press, hammy machine. There is also a quarter mile long, poker straight wooden jetty, jutting out into the lagoon: ideal for doing reps on (you just have to be careful not to trip as it’s not very wide and has no sides!). All of this, and only about 100 other people on the island to share it with, most of whom are there to lie on a sunbed and swill cocktails all day, so I basically had the gym to myself!

This is our island, Vilamendoo, taken from the sea plane as we circled to land in the lagoon.

I quickly established a daily training / rest-recovery routine:

6:45am – wake up

7am – 30 minute steady swim in the 24m pool, had it all to myself every morning as everyone else was still in bed, sleeping off the excesses of the previous night’s all-inclusive drinking

8am – breakfast (plateful of fresh, tropical fruits, followed by an egg-white omelette)

9am – walk around the island

10am – chilling on the sunbed with a Barbara Nadel novel (recovery time!!)

11am – quick 9 holes of golf on the putting green

12pm – a pre-lunch cocktail or G and T

1pm – lunch (lots of fresh fish and salad)

2pm – too hot to be in the sun at this time of day, so used the post-lunch lull period to go to the gym. I cycled on the static bike for about 45 mins each day, alternating between a flat steady ride one day and a hills programme the next. Followed this with 15 mins strength / core work each day

3pm – sea swim, approx. 20 – 30 mins along the reef

4:30pm – running on the wooden jetty, on alternate days, mostly between 3 and 4 miles, inc. some intervals

5:30pm – head to the over-water sunset bar for a cocktail (or 2, if feeling naughty)

6:30pm – 15 mins chilling in the Jacuzzi hot-tub in the garden of our room (recovery for the legs!)

7pm – pre-dinner drink at the bar

8pm – dinner (different themed cuisine each night; Tex-Mex night was my favourite!)

9pm – walk off dinner with a stroll on the wooden jetty and look at the sting rays that come into the lagoon at night

9:30pm – bed, read for 30 mins, then sleep at 10pm (I know, I’m on holiday, this is pathetic, but I am a girl who needs her sleep, holiday or not, and I’d rather get up early and have the time in the morning than at night).

7am pool swim: there are worse pools to swim in!

8am - breakfast of lots of fresh papaya and, occasionally, a cheeky glass of sparkling wine

10am - time to work on the tan with a good book!

11am - just time for a quick 9 holes of golfage before lunch!

12pm - pre-lunch margarita!

2pm - gym time! Usually 45 mins on the bike...

... followed by strength and core work.

3pm sea swim. About 30 mins along the reef, one of the highlights of the day :-)

Impossible to get bored with these views; highlight was seeing a turtle one day - amazing!

4:30pm, run time! 

Flat as a pancake, the water bungalows jetty was 1/4 mile long and great for intervals!

Sunset cocktails time! (No, they're not all mine!)

15 mins in the hot tub to massage the legs: medicinal, you see (as is the wine!)

One comment that people often make about a holiday in the Maldives is that they’d worry that there wouldn’t be enough for them to do and they would be bored. Ha! Not for me – in fact, I struggled to fit everything in each day, the time just flew by. I guess if all you do is lounge on the beach all day long though, then that could get a tad boring.

Anyway, I returned home on 18^th Feb. and on the 21^st Feb. I had booked in to do the Taunton Deane Long course aquathlon, in Wellington, Somerset. I opted for the long course (1km / 40 length pool swim, 10km run) as a stepping stone towards the Olympic distance tris that I am going to step up to this year. However, I haven’t been running much and have only ran 10km in training less than a handful of times since October. 10km on the road was going to be a big ask of my legs. I was, however, confident that after 2 weeks of swimming twice a day, I would have a good swim. Er…. yeh…. It didn’t quite turn out that way. I had a bloody awful swim. It didn’t help that I had been put in a lane with 3 other swimmers who were all faster than me, yet they had put me down to go off first with the others each starting at 5 second intervals after me. Basically they were all stacking up behind me almost immediately, making me tense up in an attempt to increase my pace. After just 3 lengths I had to pull over to start letting them through. 3 people, 3 stops; they then caught me again about 20 lengths later, so I had to pull in again. I estimate I lost about 5 secs each stop, so maybe half a minute lost in total, but it also served to completely mess up my rhythm, made me tense, my breathing went haywire. Generally I never relaxed into the swim and it felt horrid from start to finish. I was very glad to see the big orange ‘2 lengths to go’ paddle and to get out! 19:30 on my watch: what a shocker! I’ve swum faster than that in training as part of a 1500m sustained effort swim.

Off on the run – a chance to redeem myself, got a lot of ground to make up. I hadn’t run further than 4 ½ miles in one go whilst on holiday (it was too hot to do any more than that), and that was done at a bimbling pace with just a few strides thrown in, so a sustained 10k tempo effort was going to be a big ask. Half a mile in, I started to establish a rhythm and it all felt good, and then, BANG! We hit the hill. This is not just any hill, this is the hill from the Wellington 10 course (anyone who has done this race will know the hill I mean). It’s the hill that just keeps on giving… and giving… and giving. 3 miles long and pretty much unrelenting in its gradient, it felt hard after 3 weeks of doing no hills whatsoever. (The highest point in the Maldives is 2 meters above sea level, so it’s not conducive to hill training!) I’m usually an uphill fanatic, but this time I was glad to start coming down the other side!

About 2 miles in, another female competitor came into my sights, farther up the road. Due to the wave start format going off 30 minutes apart, I calculated that she must have started in my wave. Another quick calculation revealed that I would therefore have to catch and overtake this woman in order to finish further up the female placings. I seemed to make speedy gains on her up the hills, despite feeling as though I was struggling, but once the downhills came she was holding the gap. I’d have to force my legs to turn over much quicker than they naturally wanted to in order to reel her in. The miles ticked by and I had made only marginal inroads and went from feeling confident that I would catch her at mile 2, to fearing I was rapidly running out of road at mile 5. Fortunately, I had rekkied the last half mile of the run as part of my warm up. It was a rutted, stone track, very muddy and very pot-holey. Once we got onto that, she seemed to struggle and her pace slowed and so I seized the opportunity to close the gap. There was about a quarter of a mile left to go and I thought, now or never, I need to get clear, so I kicked hard and went past. Head down and fight until the finish. I finished 8 seconds ahead of her… it turned out that my instincts were right: I did need to overtake her. Not only was she in my wave but she was occupying the 3^rd female overall spot. That 8 second advantage I fought for meant the difference between me running myself onto a podium finish or finishing fourth, outside of the medals.

My overall finish time was 1:00:43. I had hoped to dip in under the hour, and no doubt would have done with a better swim. The 40:38 run split for a run involving 600ft of height gain was encouraging though, as was the fact that my calves came off it none the worse for wear: always a victory in and of itself! There’s still masses of work needed to be done on my swim though if I am not to lose too much ground in the Olympic distance tris I have entered this year. Losing 3 – 4 minutes over a 1k swim would translate to 5-6 over a 1500m, and that will be too much to close on the bike and run to get back in contact with the leading ladies. However, I shouldn’t be too disheartened as I have to remind myself that this time last year, I had only just began swimming all front crawl, having previously needed the breaststroke recovery lengths, so I am progressing… just not as quickly as I might like!

Baby bling, for coming 3rd lady at Taunton Deane long course aquathlon.

I’ve just got back from lovely 30 mile bike ride around the lanes of East Devon. It’s a glorious, sunny day today and there is almost a feel of spring in the air. Hopefully that is the worst of winter behind us, but escaping for 2 ½ weeks and heading to sunnier climbs has definitely helped to get me through the dark, dismal January days. I think I have definitely mastered the art of “wintering well”: get out of the UK for as long as possible!

Trying to train; training to tri

The two month gap since my last post reflects a lack of blog-worthy activity as I  have been traversing that competition-free void referred to by bonafide triathletes as "an off-season”. This is a novel concept to me since previously, as a runner, I never really observed a seasonal pattern of competing and so to have an end of season break seemed both indulgent, excessive and unnecessary. Unlike elite level athletes, my year has never been defined by two distinct seasons – cross country in winter, track in summer – and so I, like the majority of club runners, have dabbled in different events all year round. Following my first year in triathlon, I now totally get the need for an end of season break!

Training over three different disciplines at a fairly high intensity is bloody tiring! When I was running at my peak in 2011 / 2012 and in the throws of marathon training, a typical training week would involve hitting a mileage of 50 – 60 miles a week, over 6 days of running, with a gym session once or sometimes twice a week, and either a complete rest day or a very easy swim (we are talking 40 lengths of slow breaststroke here!) every seventh day. I very rarely did double-up days, only the one or two days in which I did my cross training and gym work, and on those days the run would be a short, recovery style affair on the treadmill immediately after my session. This fitted in with my lifestyle at the time, as I was working as matron at Sherborne School and I only had 2pm – 5pm off duty each day, 6 days a week, so this was the only time I had available in which I could leave the school grounds to train. Morning and evening runs were impossible.

As a triathlete, my average training week is a LOT different. Double-up days are the norm, as this is the only way in which you can possibly fit in the required training in order to improve your performance in all three sports. If I was doing double runs multiple days a week, my legs just wouldn't hack it. Injuries would kick in within a matter of weeks as my calves couldn't take the pounding. However, because my training is being spread over three very different sports – four, if you include the time I also spend on the cross-trainer – no particular muscle groups are taking all of the stress. When I am swimming, my legs are getting a rest and an active recovery due to the massaging effects of the water. On the bike, my upper legs are taking the strain, allowing the calves to play a more passive role, whereas on running days, they take centre stage. In total, I am running 4 days a week, with a weekly mileage of no more than 20 miles, swimming 3 days a week on average (sometimes 4, time permitting), averaging 6000 meters a week, and cycling, well, cycling varies massively between summer and winter. In summer I would cycle at least 4 days a week, possibly 5, averaging 100 miles a week. In winter that drastically falls away as commuting to work in the dark, down dodgy, narrow lanes is not something I enjoy, and so my mileage is down to about 30 miles per week, mostly done on my spin bike in the warmth of home! I'm not too worried about the drop off in bike miles though as I know I can pick that up again in the spring and it doesn't take me long to get “bike fit”. So, no one particular body part is being over-taxed, but my body as a whole is having questions asked of it in some form on a twice-daily basis. I now only indulge in one complete rest day every two weeks, and this is usually due to other commitments preventing me from training. What I have noticed though is how all of this leaves me much more tired. I need a lot more sleep than I did when I was only running, and my body aches in many and manifold places. I also have a voracious appetite which I will have to watch if I ever stop training as I will balloon!

The other fairly recent addition to my weekly training schedule is yoga. I know, I know! I have not exactly tried to conceal my scepticism of this activity, and don't worry, I am not about to become a converted stereotype and buy myself some tie-dye pants, a baggy vest top with an oversized elephant on it, book flights to India and head off on some soul-searching quest for inner peace in a Buddhist monastery in the mountains! No, we are a long way from that level of yogic enlightenment my friends. However, I can recognise the benefits of it for strengthening the body to make it more resilient and for stretching the muscles to make them more supple and less likely to incur injury. I struggle to adapt both my body and mind to the slow, chilled-out ways of proper, hard-core yoga though, and so I have found the session that suits me best is the Les Mills branded 'Body Balance' class. Body Balance is a mixture of tai chi, yoga and pilates and it suits me because it is a flowing, fast paced class that sees you progressing quickly from one move or pose to the next, and this prevents me from getting bored. It's also choreographed to decent music (Jarryd James' 'Do You Remember' is one of the songs on the current programme and it's sublime!), and this serves as a good distraction from the discomfort. If I am forced to stand in silence in 'Warrior 2' for ten minutes, focussing on my breathing, I rapidly lose interest and am unlikely to book in again for further yogic pleasures. When you're stood there in 'Sun Warrior' whilst trying to figure out how you can surreptitiously glance at your watch to see how much more of this you have to endure without fear of the instructor noticing and being offended, you pretty much know that you are no yoga purist. The purists wouldn't even wear a watch! I guess what I am saying is, I will take the physiological benefits that yoga offers but I will not be rushing to sign up to the accompanying lifestyle thank you very much. Peace for me is basking in that satisfying after glow of a hard workout or a race, knowing that I have put my body through hell, asking it to perform at its peak, and knowing that I could not have given any more; it is not sitting cross-legged for two hours in a silent room trying to channel my “inner chi” (not even sure that I have one....). But each to their own and respect to those who do have the zen-like patience necessary in order to nail it. Namaste and all that jazz.

Swimming-wise, I couldn't be happier. I have to keep reminding myself that little over a year ago, I couldn't swim more than 4 lengths of consecutive front crawl without having to grab hold of the poolside at the end, gasping and wheezing and confronting the very real possibility of having a sports induced asthma attack, culminating in the lifeguard hauling me bodily out of the pool by the lycra of my swimsuit. Maybe a slight exaggeration, but I was no water baby and swimming did not come easily to me. I had swum as a child and endured the swim gala circuit – you know the one kids, where your parents make you go, usually at night when you'd far rather be at home playing with your Lego, you get in, warm up, then sit around shivering to death on the freezing poolside for the best part of an hour waiting for your turn to swim your one length; meanwhile, your parents are sat with the other parents, sipping away at their polystyrene cups of vending machine Kenco coffee, jostling for pole parental position at the perspex viewing window, dotingly looking on in support. My memories of childhood swimming are not the best – they have subsequently been filed away in the same draw of sporting horrors as the 'being made to run laps of a freezing, snow covered rugby pitch in January clad only in briefs and a crop top' file – and, as an adult, the sport didn't have much allure. The chlorine used to aggravate my eczema, so, for well over a decade, I didn't swim at all. Then I got anorexic and forced myself to do it as just another weapon in my armament of self-punishment. Nope, me and swimming have historically not been the greatest of bedfellows.

When I was running high mileage at Sherborne, I conceded that swimming was a good way to loosen off the muscles on my recovery day and, at Sherborne, staff swam in the school pool for free, usually having it all to myself, but I never ventured beyond breaststroke and I didn't particularly enjoy it. Then, one day, last autumn, I was given my most valuable piece of swim advice ever by a lady who coaches juniors at Exmouth pool: slow down to speed up. Unlike with cycling or running, the faster you try to swim, the more your technique and breathing go out the window and, ironically, the slower you get. One day, in a determined fashion, I headed to the pool with the mindset of no matter how slowly I had to go, I would not break into breaststroke. I did 5 very slow lengths of front crawl, I was gasping for air and it felt hard, but I challenged myself to another 5. Then another 5. Then, after 15 lengths, something weird happened: I relaxed, and it suddenly felt so much easier. I swam 60 lengths of front crawl that session, in November 2014, having never swum more than 4 in a row previously. It took me the best part of 40 minutes, but I did it, without stopping for a rest. Since then, I have not looked back, nor reverted back, to breaststroke. I now regularly swim 100 lengths and only stop then because boredom usually kicks in at that point. My 60 length (1500m) time has gone from just under 40 minutes to just under 30. My 400m time a year ago was well over 9 minutes; last week I managed a 7:04 400m split at tri club. I love swimming because I am seeing progress in it and because on a good day, when you get it right, you feel like a fish and it's just the best feeling.

It must be stressed that much of my recent improvement has been as a result of joining the N1 tri club this summer. Having a weekly structured session, with input from top coaches on technique, focussed drills and pacing has helped me tremendously. When I joined N1, my 400m was knocking on the door of 8 minutes, but it was starting to plateau as I was just doing the same dull sessions, with nobody to advise me. The one minute I have shaved off in a couple of months is all due to the input I've had at the club, so I am extremely grateful that I attended the duathlon at Westpoint in the summer and met Dennis and Liz Elliot, and that they welcomed this enthusiastic but semi-clueless triathlon newbie into their club and have helped and supported me no end ever since! Thanks guys!

A Thursday night club session at Honiton pool with N1. I am centre of shot, middle lane, just approaching the end of the length. Go team lane 3!!!

The other task I face over the winter is planning my 2016 season. Again, this is another alien concept, planning and entering events so far in advance. I would normally shy away from this through fear of getting injured and not being able to compete and losing yet more money in entry fees, but, with triathlons, you need to have a clear plan as this will influence and guide the structure of your training throughout winter. I have definitely decided that I want to concentrate on the Olympic (standard) distance next year. This involves a 1500m swim, a 40km bike and a 10km run. I love a good sprint tri, but the short length of the run (5k), doesn't give me enough opportunity to play to my strength as a runner and to make up the ground I've lost on the swim and the bike. Over the next couple of weeks I need to decide which events I'm going to target and think about entering them as, due to the increasing popularity of triathlon as a sport, they WILL sell out very early. In the meantime, it's head down and keep trying to train and training to tri!

Ellie.....t

I recall that before skedaddling off on honeymoon, I promised to blog about my first open water tri experience in the Cotswolds. It's hard to write about an event after a month has elapsed as most of the emotions experienced have dissipated somewhat. Then again, maybe that's no bad thing as at least it should make for a shorter read than my usual tomes as I struggle to remember all the minutiae details. Phew, I hear you gasp!

Due to the early morning nature of these events, this one, held at the Cotswold Water Park near Cirencester, warranted an overnight stay beforehand. Matt was otherwise occupied with football – it's ok, I knew and accepted that my triathloning could never compete with Exeter City FC when I married him! - and so my other supporter in chief, good old Mum, stepped into the breach. As my parents' car is a massive Peugeot estate, we opted to hustle Canondale and the rest of my kit into the back of that and we headed off up the M5.

I registered on the Saturday and the organisers were running a free one hour seminar to help participants familiarise themselves with the swim route, the transition area and run course, in addition to providing tips on a speedy transition.... hmm, in retrospect I should have paid more attention to this latter part.

We spent the night at the delightful 'Travelodge M4 East, Delamere'. The least said about that the better, aside from to mention that if you ever stay here, make sure you double check that the receptionist has successfully inputted your car registration number into the computer when you check in, otherwise you could be in for a nasty surprise in the post a week later in the form of a £60 parking fine. (It's ok, we appealed, they admitted the error and the fine was then waived).

After not the best night's sleep, the alarm sounded at 5am and I was up and launching myself at the kettle to start getting the caffeine into my sleep-deprived system. The drive to the water park was 40 miles and into the most amazing sunrise ever. There was a low, eerie mist hanging over the fields, a rich, fiery orange ball rising behind, and it all felt almost perfect.... I say almost; the temperature on the car thermometer read 3 degrees! In 2 hours time I would be immersing myself in a freezing cold lake, exiting it soaking wet and then cycling at 20mph into an icy wind resistance. I don't do cold. Dilemma: to spend longer faffing in T1 and put a base layer on after the swim, or to suck it up and accept the cold and work through it? My sensible head said the former, my racing head said the latter. My racing head won.

This was my first time starting on an "elite" start. I know – hilarious right?! It's taken me 5 years of trying to make an elite start as a runner and, whether due to injury or ineptitude, I've never quite managed it, but after my first tri season, having merely done a grand total of 3 of the things before this one, here I was, having somehow fumbled my way in through the back door! (I was in fact given the option to start as elite due to placing 2nd at the Oxley tri, which is an official BTF event and I think the organisers were keen to encourage new "talent"). So off I went to the far end of transition to rack at number 8. Numbers 1-5 were elite men and 6 – 10 elite women. As it was, some of the women originally entered as elites opted to change to age group athletes at registration as this was the South West regional sprint championships and you had to be entered as an amateur age-grouper in order to be eligible for prizes in that. This left a small but select elite field and lots of room on the racks for bikes and kit, which was good. It also meant I got a good chance to geg at the kit of my fellow elite competitors, which was bad. Put it this way, I was sure as hell the only lady on the elite start riding without cleats on the bike!

The ground was icy cold underfoot.

First shock was upon removing my shoes to get changed into my wetsuit: the ground was freezing (not just metaphorically, but literally frozen solid). My trainers were now in transition and my flip-flops had been left in the car, parked a good 15 minute walk away. Doh. I decided to stand in the water until the start time as it was warmer than the dry land! Even so, a water temperature of 15 degrees was not exactly what I'd call tropical and I so I opted for a good warm up to allow the shock of the cold water on my face to subside before the gun went off.

Mum - supporter extraordinaire and chief wetsuit zipper-upper.

Warmer to await the start in the water than out! (I'm the one waving btw).

Elites started in the very first wave at 8am. The water was stunning; crystal clear so you could see right down to the bottom. Some bits were shallow, some deep, but it was flat as a pancake on the surface and the perfect conditions to swim in. My swim is still comparatively my weakest of the three phases. It's rapidly improving, but I am no speed merchant. My strength lies in my stamina, being able to pick a decent pace and keep churning it out, rather than in going out all guns blazing for a short time. Next year I aim to move up the distances to Olympic and Half Ironman, which I feel will suit me better, but, for now, I covered the 750m in a sedate 15:25. Considering I managed 17:57 for a 1km sea swim in the choppy, murky waters of the English Channel only one week before, this was disappointing. I can only think it was due to the coldness of the water temp here that affected my sports asthma. Excuses aside, the first elite female was a whole third quicker in just over 10 minutes! Pff.

Swim start. I'm the one in the black wetsuit and green cap... ;-)

A particularly steep and slippery exit from the water.

The fun starts: trying to shed my wetsuit on route to T1 didn't happen.

T1: a bloody fiasco! My hands were so cold from the water that they couldn't function. I got the right leg of my wetsuit off easily enough, but my left – which had the added challenge of getting over the lumpy timing chip – was a disaster. I nearly fell over twice, I pounded a load of grit and dirt into the suit... I swore a lot. It was generally embarrassing. Other athletes were coming in and out and I was still there, in the elite section to add to the humiliation, squirming about like some inebriated lizard trying to shed its skin. It felt like an eternity – I was almost contemplating having a picnic – but in reality, all of this took just under two minutes. Nevertheless, I still gave away over a minute to the other elite females, who either didn't suffer from the cold as much as I did, or else were better rehearsed in the art of deshedding.

Finally free from the wetsuit and off to start the 20km bike.

The bike was brilliant. Loved it! A mostly flat course on very quiet, straight, wide and pothole-free roads, that enabled me to get onto the tri bars, get my head down and work like stink. I didn't see another competitor riding in their running trainers, but I overtook a load and wasn't getting overtaken myself, so I figured I wasn't doing too badly. At the Oxley I averaged 18.5mph on a hilly course and managed to better that here by averaging 20mph and coming in at 35 minutes.

A great bike course, not too technical, could get your head down and work work work!

T2 was a much slicker affair, but then it should be, given that I only needed to dump a bike and helmet and not change shoes, and I was off on the scenic two laps of the lake run course. Familiar territory now, just 5k to run. My feet felt numb from the cold when I started running; a weird sensation to be hitting the ground and yet feeling a total disconnect from it. I soon established a rhythm and started to pick off lots of runners in front of me. My run time of 19:14 was the second fastest by a female for the day, so chuffed with that.

Just completing lap one of the 5km run around the lake.

However, the deficit created by my poor swim and T1 was too great to make up, and I remained in 3rd place in the elite female category and 14th female overall, once the age groupers were thrown into the mix, with an overall finish time of 1:12:38. Not bad for my first attempt at an open water tri. Practice at getting out of the wetsuit will buy me a minute, which would have moved me up into the top ten, and finding 3 minutes on the swim would have given me second overall. That's not including what I think can come on the bike once I actually take the plunge and sort these ruddy cleats out! The winning female was in a league of her own – she was over 8 minutes clear of the second lady and placed 10th overall, out of 468 competitors. Her time of 1:00:04 is on the cusp of being “elite elite”, i.e., Non Stanford, Vicky Holland, Jodie Stimpson kind of elite, not the “Ellie Dominey, punching above her weight” kind! ;-)

The finish funnel - had just worked like stink to overtake the GB age group athlete behind me on the run!

It was a great weekend and I definitely chose a good event for my first open water experience. The organisation was so slick, the whole thing was wrapped up and packed away by 11am! 468 cometitors in a multi-wave start all completed by mid morning, that's impressive. As a bonus, for placing 3rd “elite”, I won a trophy, 4 new sets of Specialized performance tyres, and a cheque for £100. Had some of the age groupers braved the elite start, that money could have been theirs, but they didn't, I did, and it paid nicely for the Travelodge thank you! ...Mind you, I might have also offset some of it against a new toy (see below). Well, if I am going to be taking this triathlon lark a little more seriously next year, I need the appropriate kit to do myself justice, right?! ;-)

5 imposing GB athletes and little old me on'th'end!

Good prize haul!

And a new toy to round off a good weekend. :-)

A change is as good as a rest?

I am writing this as my first season of being a “triathlete” draws to a close. I'm not going to lie, it was my endless string of lower left leg injuries that prompted the move into multi-sport. As I tried desperately to maintain fitness using other, non-impacting training methods (swimming, cycling), I found that I actually quite like the freedom of being out on the bike, being able to cover distances four times quicker than I could running, and I have definitely liked seeing my progress in the pool, setting PBs in time trials on an almost weekly basis; it has evoked some of the same excited emotions I used to experience in those early days of running when every run would be a PB! Last summer I was forced to rest for 2 months with a postior tibial tendon injury. I did rest and I lost a ton of fitness, making it a very hard and slow process to regain the fitness when I did start back. Then, just as I was starting to sharpen up, I got glandular fever in November last year and that set me back some more. Just starting to get over that after months of feeling flat and my left achillies started to act up again. It's been a frustrating 12 months.

This time round, I decided to use the enforced rest time from running to really work on further improving my swim and on increasing my mileage on the bike. It was only last October that I found myself able to swim an entire session of front crawl without an alternate breaststroke recovery length or without needing to grab at the poolside in a gasping, wheezing desperation for oxygen. Swimming definitely does not come naturally to me and it's a discipline I've really had to work at. Initial progress was slow, but, these past few months, I have noticed a real improvement and I am almost starting to look and feel like someone who belongs in the water rather than an erroneous land-loving mammal who has accidentally fallen overboard and is flapping about in panic in attempt to regain dry land.

Enough! I digress! This summer, fed up of having to head to the hated gym in attempt to retain a modicum of fitness, I have got out on my bike, got in the pool and signed up for some different events to keep me motivated to train and stay fit. I have competed in three triathlons (two pool based, one open water), one duathlon (run – bike – run), two cycle sportives of 66 and 54 miles respectively, and one 1km sea swim in a choppy, murky English Channel. If a change is as good as a rest, as they indeed say, then mentally my mind is refreshed and physically, my injury is well rested.... I have though acquired a whole new set of injuries, such as a pain in my right glute from the bike, but hey, as least it's giving my lower left leg a time-out!

I have written about the two pool based tris in previous posts, so I won't bore you with more talk of those. So, to the duathlon. One Sunday morning, Matt and I had gone for our Sunday morning swim at Sidmouth pool and, on leaving, Matt noticed a sign on the noticeboard advertising the 'N1 Westpoint Summer Duathlon Series'. I had seen the name 'N1' on the swimming timetables for Honiton and Sidmouth pools and knew they were an East Devon based triathlon club. Last year I briefly joined the Exeter tri club but their swim sessions didn't really work for me, so I didn't renew my membership in March and decided to go it alone. The poster said that these summer duathlons, held over four weeks, on a Wednesday evening throughout summer, were open to non-N1 members and were only £3 to enter. There was one coming up the coming Wednesday, so I decided to give it a go.

They are held at Westpoint driving circuit (you tube the 'Chris Boardman cycling two abreast safety video: it's fimled at Westpoint!). This is hired by N1 each Wednesday evening in summer and is a safe, traffic free mock-up of a road network and a great place to practice bike handling skills, riding in groups, drafting, cornering at speed, and a great location for a duathlon. With Gary Parett of Axe Valley Runners and Grizzly fame at the helm, the duathlons are superbly well organised with chip timing! Each circuit is half a mile. You run 3 circuits, bike 12, run 1.5 circuits, finish. As fast s you can! The course is not flat, it's basically a square with one side being uphill, the next being flat, the next downhill and the next flat. There are sharp bends on each of the corners. The first time I approached a corner on the bike section, I totally misjudged it, went wide, and nearly took out a runner who was coming the way! Bike handling skills could use a bit of improvement... Over the course of the 12 laps though, I started to get a feel for the turns and when to brake, when to coast etc, and my lap times got quicker. My second run – off the bike – went surprisingly well and I posted the 3rd fastest time overall for it, having only been the 5th fastest for the first run on fresh legs. Who needs brick training?! My transitions were the quickest of anyone as I was the only person not switching to cleats for the bike! Finish position was 5th overall with a 10:27 first run, 19:21 bike, 4:52 second run. It was great fun, with a low-key friendly atmosphere and a great event to give duathlon a go. It also enabled me to have a chat with Dennis and Liz Elliot from N1 tri club about hooking up with them. They were extremely friendly and helpful and offered for me to try a couple of their swim sessions and see how I found them first, with the option to join after. A productive evening all round!

Westpoint Duthlon. Thanks to Dennis Elliot who took all apart from the above picture.

Next up, two cycle sportives. My sister-in-law, Caroline, had entered me into the 66 mile Jurassic Classic sportive as a birthday present. It was on Sunday 16th August. Sportives are not races and are billed as being non-competitive, but, for those of a competitive mindset (i.e., me!), they do publish “standards” for the course that take into account the distance and elevation, and so you have something to measure yourself against. For a senior female, to get the 'gold' standard at the Jurassic you had to average over 16.9mph, which icludes time spent at fuelling and, er, defueling stations. I was entered into the standard distance which has over 4000ft of climb, so I figured that aiming for silver would be a realistic ask. The hills come thick and fast in the opening half of the ride: Peak Hill, followed by the absolutely horrendous Salcombe Hill, followed by Branscombe Hill, then the long drag up to the top of Gittisham Hill. I had to abandon Canondale on both Salcombe and Branscombe Hills as the gradient was too sharp; I simply ran out of gears and ground to a halt! Ever aware of that silver medal slipping away, in my wisdom I decided to run up the hills, pushing the bike, and I overtook quite a lot of men who were determined to cycle! No time to stop at the first aid station in Gittisham, on on to the next! By the next, in Aylesbeare, I was bursting for the loo, so had no choice. I sprinted in, did the necessary, and sprinted out, grabbing a piece of flapjack as I passed the ladies behind the counter serving tea and cakes who looked on at me incredulously. I found out from another participant after that the were also serving pasties and tea in china cups: I hadn't even noticed! I wanted the silver medal more than I wanted a pasty!!

For several miles, I had been playing cat and mouse with a guy who was also doing the standard distance. He seemed to like my company and would drop back to wait for me after the descents, as he was quicker on those, and he would work like stink to try and stick with me on the ascents, which he couldn't always, so I'd then feel obliged to wait for him at the top. It was nice to pass a bit of time and have a natter, but, after a while, I found myself getting a bit annoyed at being obligated to ride with someone. I had my goal set on that silver medal and this man was messing with my pacing strategy! I then found myself wondering if that made me a ruthless, over-competitive, horrible person. I then began to question whether I was actually enjoying this cycle ride in the beautiful countryside of Devon, or whether I wasn't allowing myself to enjoy it because I was GO GO GO!! the whole way, being so Goddamn driven and focussed. Was I doing it for the fun? No, not really. I was doing it for the training benefits. I then began to question my whole attitude to sport. I entered two sportives to make me do a longer ride than if I were just heading out the door by myself. I always have to have a purpose to get me out and training and that purpose is usually to get fit for racing. In truth, I'm not too sure that I really enjoy exercising to the extent I do all that much! If I was doing it just for fun, I would have chosen the easier, flatter 33 mile option... or I'd have stayed in and watched cycling on the telly! In truth, I think pushing myself to do all the exercise I did in my teenage years has pretty much set the stall for how I approach it: it's something I do for self-improvement, not for the love of it!

Anyway, enough of the amateur self-psychology. I eventually ditched that poor chap, who was lovely but whose innate chatter had become too much for me and my craving for solitude and focus, and I managed to finish the whole thing in a time of 4h19m, 20 minutes inside the time for the silver medal! Horray! When I heard everyone animatedly talking about their experiences after and they said what a great time they'd had, taking photos en route, drinking tea in china cups, I did feel a bit sad that I am seemingly incapable of allowing myself to take this relaxed approach, but then I looked down at the silver medal round my neck and that somewhat made up for it. Besides, I have tea at home. And china cups to drink the stuff out of.

The one thing this approach did have against it is that it pretty much wiped me out for the rest of the week. I was sleeping loads, tired out, struggling to focus at work, and struggling to do any meaningful training for several days after due to physical exhaustion. My first reaction was to think I am a total wimp as there were much older, less fit, ladies doing that ride who came off it perfectly fine, but then my rational self was eventually able to see that they probably didn't push themselves as hard as I did: I'm pretty certain I was the only lunatic running with their bike up Salcombe Hill! My hell-for-leather, all-or-nothing personality does deliver results, but sometimes those results come at a price, in this case, leaving me drained and knackered!

The Exmouth Exterminator ride then came just that little bit too early, a mere 6 days later. I wasn't ready for it, physically or mentally. I had given everything the previous week and just couldn't get fired up for this one. Furthermore, the standard distance on this was 76 miles and 5000ft of height gain! 10 miles and 1000ft more than the previous week, which had left me a wreck! On the start line they offered you the option to change up or down a distance if you were feeling good / bad and I was bloody grateful! Not like me to shy away from a challenge I've signed up for, but even the short course on the Exterminator is 54 miles, so that would be enough for today thank you! I somehow managed to come away with the gold standard on this one as they standards were much softer – only 14.5mph average needed this time, so upgraded to gold but with a slightly slower average time than the week before.

By now I had joined the N1 tri club who are simply fantastic! I have enjoyed some amazing swim training sessions at Honiton pool and they have also given me the kick up the pants and the confidence needed to start sea swimming. Lakes, no problem, but I am not a lover of the sea surrounding the British Isles: cold, murky, jelly-fish riddled and often rough, it has never really appealed. That said, the first sea swim I did with the club, at Sidmouth was flat calm and it was a beautiful sunny evening. I was looked after expertly well by Dennis, the club chairman, who seemed to be more perceptive than I was at detecting that I was stiff as a board and needed to relax more. He taught me how to draught off another swimmer and, all in all, my first sea swim in the UK was a great experience. Not a jelly fish in sight! One sea swim done = one sea swim race entered that very night (you are now beginning to see how my mind works I think...).

The Geoswim took place at Goodrington Sands, near Paignton. They had 1km, 3km and 5km distances on offer. Just the 1km for me; best not to bite off more than I can chew. One thing doing so in a run or bike race when you can just stop, but it's not so easy when you're out of your depths in the open ocean to just call it a day. The race started on the beach with a mad charge into the sea, there was a lot of wading in shallow water before taking the plunge and starting the swim. First stride, first gob full of water. In fact, I swallowed what certainly felt like half the contents of the English Channel in the opening few meters. I like to breathe to my left; the waves were coming from my left. Different strategy needed. Suddenly aware of loads of other swimmers passing me whilst I coughed, spat out salt water, doubted why I thought I was ready for this after only having swum in the sea twice. “Gees, this is going really bad”. Couldn't even resort to trusty breaststoke as your legs are too buoyant in the wetsuit and so a breastroke leg kick is totally ineffectual. Can I give up and turn back? Oh, shit, I've only swum about 5 meters. Nope, press on. Don't be a total embarrassment. I evntually found my rhythm, but it took a while, and I still wasn't much enjoying it. The waves were quite big and I was actually starting to feel a bit dizzy and sick with the motion! Only I could get sea sick swimming! At long bloody last, I can touch the bottom again. Wade in. Start running up the beach. Oooh, catching the guy in front, charge! Just got him. Cross the line. Get handed the prize for 3rd lady. SAY WHAT?! Are you sure? What happened to the others? Did they drown? Did they take a wrong turn and end up in France? 3Rd lady – too funny! It felt like a truly abysmal performance, though the watch did say 17:57 for 1km, but I think some of that was waded and not swum as the tide was quite far out!

The initial mad charge into the sea. I am the 4th visible athlete from left.

The sprint up the beach after the swim and a chance to make up some ground!

3rd lady?! Say what?!! Haha, too funny! (Yes, that is a steam train behind me!)

It did, however, give me confidence going into my last event of my first season as a mutli-sport athlete.... the Cotswold Spint Triathlon. This one deserves its own blog post and, besides, I think I've bored you stupid enough for one day with this epic! That one will have to wait a couple of weeks however, as tomorrow morning we fly to Iceland for our honeymoon :-) A change is often as good as a rest, but, sometimes, you also just need a rest! My body is physically tired. We had mooted the idea of doing Yeovilton 5km tonight on our way up to Heathrow, but I've woken up with a sore throat and generally feeling achey and under the weather. It's been a long season of tri-ing new things and it takes the body a while to adapt. Although I have been resting my leg and not doing as much running (15 miles per week max), I have been training over three different disciplines, plus the usual strength and core stuff. I have started doing an early morning swim before work, in addition to commuting to work and back by bike and/or doing an after work run. It's been quite a jump up in volume and your body will only put up with it for so long before it starts giving off warning signs. (NB. The fact that I've picked up on this is progress, as I do somewhat have a habit of running myself into the ground then falling apart spectacularly!) Well, signs heeded, honeymoon booked, resting whilst sipping wine in thermally heated mountain springs, about to happen! Iceland here we come!

New experiences in multi-sport this summer. Had a great time and learned a lot. A rest, followed by a hard winter's training, and who knows what next year will bring. On on!