A savage woman...

“And the good news is that the lake temperature this morning is at 12 degrees, so we’re just within the legal limits for the full 1000m swim to go ahead.” In what world this was “good news” I’m not too sure; it certainly wasn’t good news in mine! We were all gathered in the transition area in the pouring rain for the compulsory safety briefing on day 2 of the Snowdonia Slateman Savage double triathlon weekend. Yesterday’s 400m swim in a 13 degree lake had been cold enough; I was not too sure whether my body could take 600m more swimming in even colder waters! I was already shivering, having been stood for 40 minutes in transition, racking, being briefed and waiting for my swim wave to start. The one saving grace was that with an outside air temp of 10 degrees, that might make the water feel warmer!

The rather grim and wet view from Moira's garden in Llanberis on race day.

FYI, here's what it looks like on a good day:

I signed up for the Slateman last autumn, shortly after completing my first – and, up until this weekend, only – open water triathlon in the Cotswolds last September. I love Snowdonia, having done all my undergraduate and postgraduate study there, and I’m deeply fond of Llanberis, having been fortunate enough to live there with Moira and Sarah in the last year of my PhD studies. It was in fact during that year, 2010, that I took up running, having previously been a keen horse rider, and so I try to return there to visit my ‘Welsh family’ and to compete in mountain races whenever I can.

Slateman is a festival of triathlon races over a weekend, with junior, mini-sprint, sprint and standard distances on offer. There is also the chance to compete in both the sprint on the Saturday and standard on the Sunday and to do the double: they call this the Slateman Savage. Me being me and never one to shy away from a challenge, I figured that if I was going to drive 6 hours each way to get there, I might as well make it worth my while and do both. Also, it worked out cheaper to do both and you get an extra tee-shirt, so I’d have been a fool not to, right?! Hmm….. maybe not, as I was about to discover…

An unseasonably cold April, which saw snow right down to the base of the mountains, meant that ice melt trickled into Llyn Padarn – the venue for the lake swim – and made the temperature of the lake plummet to way below average for the time of year. Just a week before race day, the temperature was recorded at 9 degrees: this is below the legal BTF baseline, meaning the swim wouldn’t be able to go ahead. I had mixed feelings on this. The swim being my weakest of the three disciplines, from a competitive angle, this would have played to my strengths. But from a personal satisfaction point of view, I had signed up for a double triathlon, not a duathlon, and the iconic swim in the cold mountain lake is all part of the challenge. I’m not sure I’d have felt the same sense of accomplishment had it been cut completely, or had it been cut short like it was the previous year. A few days of sun though and it just about crept up to legal levels, so it was all systems go.

Here we go again! Who needs a lake when you are already soaked from the rain before starting?!

I struggled to find a rhythm on the Saturday swim. The coldness took my breath away, not helped by the fact that I’d forgot to have a pre-race puff on my inhaler. I was disappointed with my swim split of 9:23 (self-recorded on Garmin), but having seen the winning times, they are slower than expected too, so maybe the course was longer than the advertised 400m.

T1. Day 1.

T1 went well, I even managed to get the wetsuit off slickly – aaaah, that satisfying ‘THLWAP’ sound of it pinging off over your ankles and feet. Helmet and race belt on and go go go! It had started raining just as I got in the water to swim and by now it was pouring and I was feeling the cold. I worked hard on the four mile long climb up Llanberis Pass to get myself warm. I was nearing the top when the elite men, who started in wave 1, (five minutes before us elite and ‘savage’ women in wave 2), started to appear over the brow of the hill. Wooooooooooosh – that unmistakable sound of speed as they hurtled down the other side on their tri bars, obviously not planning on using their brakes too much! I was just starting to warm up and get into a nice rhythm, picking off rider after rider and not getting overtaken myself, and then we crested the top and began the fast, steep, windy descent down to Pen-yr-Gwyrd. I hated this bit. With the pre-race briefing caution – ‘careful on this descent, particularly on the sharp left hander halfway down, as we had a very nasty crash here last year’ – fresh in my mind, I was feathering my brakes cautiously the whole way down. All the men, and annoyingly a few women, that I had overtaken on the climb now started to come back past me. A tight, nasty U-turn at the bottom and we turned around and retraced our ride: woe betide anyone who hadn’t pre-selected a climbing gear on the descent as the U-turn was short and sharp and then we were climbing steeply straight back up! Up out the saddle and start re-overtaking the people I had already once overtaken for a second time!

Concentration face: focussed on the summit!

Still smiling here, climbing the pass on day 1!

Then the descent to Llanberis. 4 miles downhill, then a 1.5 mile flat stretch into transition. Now came the part I was dreading: the top club level male athletes from wave 3, who started 5 minutes behind, were now beginning to catch me. The Pass was closed to traffic on the Saturday, as it’s very narrow and athletes were ascending and descending simultaneously, but I’m not sure which is scarier: a car or bus that you can hear coming and tuck in for, or fearless, testosterone-fuelled males on their flying machines, who approach stealth-like from behind without warning, who give you barely an inch of room as they pass you and who are taking every risk they can on the wet, greasy surface to get down faster. Hmm…. Jury’s out on that one. Halfway down, starting to shiver in the wind and rain and then – what the hell? It can’t be, oh yes it can – a hail storm. Terrific. Just what my already cold, exposed wet skin needs: hailstones pummelling it. My left leg that was hanging low was shaking in the cleat, my teeth were chattering, my fingers were rapidly going numb, and I was not having a great deal of fun. Thank goodness the hail shower was short lived, and I was soon down onto the flat section and working like stink just to warm myself up.

Apols for the face - I was telling my Mum that I was freezing and had just been hailed on!

T2 and then out into my comfort zone: the run. Both runs take place on the trails around the lake and disused Dinorwig slate quarry. I know these trails like the back of my hand; I’ve run them countless times whilst living in Llanberis. Knowing how long every climb was definitely helped me to know when to push on and when to hold back. I felt strong, the legs felt fresh and I was pleased with my run time, which was only 7 seconds behind the winning female. Day 1 done. Ice the legs in the lake, hot bath, refuel for tomorrow. 7^th female and 47^th overall / 369.

The wooded trails around Lyn Padarn are just the best place to run!

Approaching the finish on day 1.

Feeling strong to the end on day 1.

The forecast on Friday had shown Saturday as wet but fine for Sunday, promising full sun for the morning. My plan had always been to race the sprint on the Saturday and then just see how I felt the next day. My main goal for day 2 was to enjoy it, particularly the bike, which I was really looking forward to as it’s a truly spectacular 52km circuit of the Glyders mountain range, with epic views of Snowdon, Moel Siabod, Tryfan and the Glyders: it would be particularly enjoyable in the sun….

Race morning, pull back the curtains: dry! Hurrah! Not sunny, but dry. That’ll do. Get up, get my kit ready, do battle with the fiddly race number stencils again as I had managed to partially rub them off in bed overnight. Breakfast time. Enjoying my cereal and coffee in Moira’s conservatory with its spectacular view of Snowdon, which has a clear summit for a welcome change. A few clouds are appearing. Meh. Summit now obscured. More clouds appearing. It’s suddenly gone very dark. What’s that noise? The kettle? No – it’s rain! It’s sodding rain on the sodding roof. I don’t believe it! Maybe it sounds worse on the roof than it really is. Step outside. Nope. It’s hammering it down. FFS. It was meant to be sunny today! Snowdonia – you fickle wench – I want my money back!

My motivation levels take a sudden nosedive. I was never hoping to be competitive on day 2 as the full distance race always attracts a top quality field, with a handful of full-time triathletes, so my plan was to enjoy it. Hmm, that was looking increasingly less likely now that I was apparently in for another day of being cold and wet. Leave it 10 minutes. It's 8:30am, don’t need to go down yet, briefing not until 9am.

8:40am. Still raining.

8:45am. Still raining.

8:50am. Raining harder than ever.

Oh, for crying out loud. I’ll have to put my wetsuit on now and walk down in it, as I’ll never get it on down in the field if it and I are already soaked.

8:55am, walk down to the field. It’s a muddy, boggy mess. Luckily I am racked right at the front, near the bike out exit, so I don’t have to negotiate as much mud in my cleats as some competitors do. I spot my friend Vikki with whom I have done a few early season, freezing cold sea swim sessions at Budleigh. She is an amazing swimmer and is probably one of the happiest people on the startline to hear that the swim will be the full 1000m. When I tell her the water was cold but calm yesterday, she’s disappointed: the choppier the better for her as it would play to her advantage as a strong swimmer. We agree to differ.

40 minutes of standing around in the rain and I am cold before I even enter the water. 5 minutes in the water bobbing about on the deep water start line and I’m colder still. Not even the perfunctory pre-race wetsuit wee can warm me up this time. A rendition of ‘Oggi oggi oggi’ by the organisers in their boat to get us revved up, the hooter sounds and we’re away. I’m aware of Vikki’s legs next to me on the startline firing into action like pistons and she’s off and gone; out of sight into the murk of the lake within seconds. My God that first buoy seems a long way off.

The amazing setting for the Slateman swim in Llyn Padarn.

This longer distance on day 2 actually allows me to establish a rhythm. After the scrummage of fighting for the best line around the first buoy, I find I am now working my way through the pack, trying to hitch a ride on as many feet as I can along the way. My hands and feet are cold (not allowed to wear neoprene gloves and socks if you want to place top 3), but the rest of me is not too bad. Round the second buoy and turn for home. Suddenly I am aware of a fellow ‘Savage woman’ competitor swimming alongside me to my right. She keeps trying to push me left and off course – I am on a good sighting for the exit and not budging from my line thank you! We come up to breathe facing each other at the same time and I give her a warning stare through my swim goggles! Eventually she decides to go around the back of me, but does so by attempting to swim over the top of me. No damn way! I ain’t having that. So my right leg gives her a polite warning nudge to back off! I don’t see or feel her again after that and I swim hard for the exit!

It’s a long run to T1 in bare feet through boggy mud, sodden grass and sheep poo. I totally stuff up T1. Can’t get the wetsuit off my legs (wearing calf guards today and it grips to them like Velcro). Finally get it off and realise my fingers are so cold they can’t manage fine motor tasks very easily. Putting on my cycling shoes suddenly seems like being faced with a 10’000 piece jigsaw (never had much patience for them). Decide to spend a bit longer today and make sure my gloves are on properly and to put my OMM Kamleika waterproof on too. Ok. Done. Helmet on. Grab bike. Run for the exit. Balls. Have forgotten my race belt and number. Prop bike up against fence. Peg it back to the rack and retrieve belt. Total time spent in T1: 3 minutes. Appalling.

Despite having a waterproof on, I am already freezing. Being in the lake for over 20 minutes meant my core body temperature was much lower than it was at this point yesterday. I have gloves on, but they are fingerless, and saturated with cold water anyway, so not much use. My rain jacket was already soaked in transition and I am wet and cold underneath it. I dig in on the climb up the pass to try and get warm, but don’t really manage it. I am dreading the 6 mile long descent down to Capel Curig. Then I hear sirens behind me. I share an exchange with a female competitor I am overtaking at the time: “That doesn’t sound too good”. “No, it doesn’t”. I’m thinking, ‘if this ambulance is heading to the scene of a crash on the descent, I don’t think I can handle seeing what might lay ahead’. As it was, it pulled in to Pen-yr-Pass car park, so likely attending a walker or climber who had come a cropper on Crib Goch than for a cyclist.

Finding the going even tougher on day 2 in the cold rain.

Unlike yesterday, where we U-turned at the junction at Pen-yr-Gwyrd and headed straight back up, today we keep descending all the way to Capel Curig. Although this part of the road is a more gradual downhill, I still have sufficient speed – particularly in the conditions with lots of deep sections of standing water and road side flooding – to not need to pedal. I’m getting colder and colder. The rain is seemingly getting heavier and heavier and the wind stronger and stronger. I am shivering uncontrollably and rapidly becoming fixed in position on the drops. At one point I think I am applying pressure to the brakes but I’m not slowing: I realise my fingers are completely numb and I cannot judge how hard I am braking. I think to myself: At what point do I become so cold that it’s dangerous for me to continue? I don’t want to quit – I NEVER EVER want to quit – but what if I am simply unable to function and can’t carry on? Then, in the next thought, I reasoned, Well, I haven’t seen any recovery vehicles, or even any marshalls since the top of the pass, so even if I do stop, I’ll just be stood roadside, still cold and shivering. Might as well keep going and try to get warm.

Finally, after a descent that seemed never-ending, I got to Capel Curig. At this point, you turn left onto the main A5 and the road starts to steadily climb all the way to Llyn Ogwen. I tried to move the left hand shifter over to drop down onto the small cog ready for the climb, but I didn’t have enough feeling or strength in my left hand to move it. I tried bringing my right hand across to drag it over, but I couldn’t even do that. I took the decision to stop, dismount, change gear, jump up and down a bit and shake my hands out, trying to get some blood flow back into my fingers. I gave myself a damn good talking to: ‘Now toughen up! You’ve got a rain jacket on for God’s sake! Some of these women passing you are just in tri suits. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and man the hell up.’ It seemed to work. I hopped back on, started to climb, got out the saddle and pushed harder than ever, and slowly, slowly, I started to feel a bit warmer. I knew I had friends looking out for me at Tregarth, about 25 miles in, so that buoyed me. If I still felt rubbish then I would allow myself to pull up and have a quick boosting chat with them before continuing. My competitive streak had deserted me about 10 miles previously and made way for a need to just survive and get back to T2 in one piece, not hypothermic in the back of an ambulance!

By the time I got to Tregarth, the sun was out! It wasn’t enough to make me feel warm, but at least I had stopped the violent shivers and shaking. Sian and Nigel were there, holding a banner saying 'Go Ellie'! I rallied after this and put the hammer down for home. My cold, numb fingers had led to further problems however: I had dropped 2 of my 3 gels, so I had done the 1000m swim and 52k bike on just one gel. Not enough, no where near enough. As I got into T2, I remembered I had put a tiny flapjack square in the transition kit, so I made sure to grab that. I shed the Kamleika jacket: the sun was out now and I would get warm going up the 1000ft zig-zags climb on the run. What I didn’t notice until the marshal on the ‘run out’ exit informed me, is that I had no race number on. I had pulled it off along with my jacket: idiot. She said to just continue, so off I went.

Running on sodden, freezing numb feet again, I headed out of the field and towards the majestic Dolbadarn Castle, munching my little piece of flapjack but still feeling hungry. It was gone midday by now; my last bit of food – save 1 gel – was cereal at 7am. I also needed the loo. I’ve never ever needed the loo in a race before, but having taken on quite a bit of water on the bike and not having lost any in sweat (ha! Chance would be a fine thing!), I really needed a pee! Hmm, time lost weeing versus time lost having to slow my running stride down due to discomfort. I bobbed down at the side of the main road: seriously, if you want to be a triathlete, leave your dignity at the door people!

The climb up the slate quarry zigzags seemed relentless. I have run this climb  A LOT in training runs – it’s probably my favourite running route of all time, up the slate trails and around the lake – and I have never had to walk any of it. I did today. I usually run well off the bike, and indeed, my legs felt surprisingly good, but I just had no energy. I needed fuel and was running on empty. I started to feel a bit faint, my breathing rate sky-rocketed, and I had to walk every hill from here on. It was a fight to get home without keeling over.

Running through the mighty slate quarries. Very dramatic scenery!

And in front of the Quarry Hospital and alongside the lake, with Llanberis on the other side.

I wanted that finish line to come so badly. I was still not warm, and felt ravenous, weak and wobbly. All the kids were high-fiving competitors down the finish funnel, but I didn’t have the energy. I staggered across the line and dived into the array of food that was on offer. Crisps, mmmmmmm, crisps. And chocolate! Yeah! Gimme, gimme, gimme. The announcer: ‘Well done Ellie Dominey; you are a savage woman!’ I did not feel too savage at this point, I felt rather weak, knackered and pathetic. But my tee-shirt – the all-important tee-shirt – told me that I was. I had done it. The double. There were times out there when I wanted to quit the sport, when I vowed I would never do another triathlon again. Hell, poor old Canondale was even up for sale at one point, but I did it. I overcame the extreme Snowdonia weather on both days and survived.

Knackered, but mission very much accomplished.

I saw my friend Vikki, who had placed an incredible 5^th lady in a highly competitive women’s field. I wanted to stay to watch her get her prize, but I felt so awful I just needed to go back, eat some proper food, have a bath and lie down! What I didn’t realise at the time was that I had placed 3^rd female overall in the Savage! My combined time for the 2 days being 4h54m. I missed my chance to step up on the podium and receive a fantastic array of prizes and a superb slate trophy. That is a big regret. Luckily, Vikki collected it all for me and I picked it up from her today. Possibly the hardest earned trophy in my collection – I had to really dig deep for this one. It has taken pride of place on my shelf in the gym, there to remind me that although I am physically not the strongest, I am mentally quite tough. Perhaps worthy of the ‘savage woman’ title after all?!

Happy with my haul :-)

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. :-)