Done in for Devon...

As it’s now the end of July, summer is well on its way to being over. In some ways, it has felt long, as I started my tri season early on, in May, and crammed in five events by July 3rd, so in that respect it feels like the end of the season already. On the other hand, the record heatwave summer that was mooted back at the start of the year has not really     materialised (save one hot week in mid-July), so in some ways it feels as though I’m still waiting for summer to start! One thing’s for sure, my body is pretty knackered and is ready for its end of season break. 

This has been my first proper season as a triathlete. Last year I dabbled in a couple of pool based sprint events and managed my first open water tri at the back end of the season. 2016 marked the first year of targeting some key events, training towards them over the winter, and managing to execute them without having to pull out through injury. This latter point feels like my biggest achievement of the year, as for the previous 3 years, since February 2013, I have been on an endless 6 month injury cycle. Maybe it’s true what they told me when I took up triathlon – it does make you stronger and less injury prone? Or maybe it’s simply because I am not constantly pounding my legs with the running, but strengthening them on the bike and getting the cardio crossover benefits from the cycling and the swimming? I am only running between 15 and 20 miles a week, but with the fitness from the other sports, this has been enough to produce some decent enough running performances this year. Running highlights have been:

Run Exe 5k, April: 3rd lady in 18:28 (my third fastest 5k ever, and my fastest since 2013).
Exmouth Land and Sand 5k: 1st lady and 1st overall and new course record (both male and female) in 20:21.
Ottery 10k, May: 1st lady in 38:25 on a hilly course.
Erme Valley Relays, 2.5 mile: 3rd fastest female leg in 15:02 (a course PB by 23 seconds).

Run Exe Summer 5k, April. 18:28.

Exmouth Land and Sand Run

Exmouth Land and Sand Run - pushing on to ditch the guy behind me to win the race outright!

On the back of these results I was approached by the Devon County Athletics Association team manager, Dave Phillips, and asked to represent Devon on a team for the South-West inter-counties 10k road championships, this year held at the Frome 10k. I was thrilled. The last time I ran for Devon on the roads was in February 2013 at the Plymouth Hoe 10 mile, and that was the race in which I tore my calf and my injury battle started. I definitely had some demons to bury!

My plan was to taper off the cycling in the week leading up to Frome (held on 17th July). Heavy cycling thighs are not conducive to fast running! I had been feeling very run down ever since Slateman (May 21st/22nd). In hindsight, I didn’t fully appreciate the demands that a double event in freezing, wet conditions would place on my body and so I didn’t give myself the necessary recovery time afterwards. The result was that I experienced a never-ending string of coughs and colds, starting a week after the event, that lasted a good 6 weeks. I would be just about shifting a cold, then I would have another event booked in, do it, and be back at square one again. After doing the Dambuster on a cold, I was in a worse state than ever. It’s only really been these last couple of weeks that I have finally started to feel like my old self again. My resting pulse rate had been up around 58-60bpm (usual for me is 48-50), so this was a sure sign I was run down, knackered and that my body was crying out for a rest. My split times in the pool plummeted (another sign) and running suddenly felt like a much greater effort to achieve slower results. I lost my mojo for training, particularly for anything that put me out of my comfort zone, such as long CSS efforts in the pool, sea swimming, long bike rides. All signs. I can see them now. I didn’t at the time. I thought I had lost some fitness, was becoming lazy and obviously needed to train harder. Classic mistake. 

By the time Frome 10k came around, I was not exactly at the peak of my fitness. We travelled up to Shepton Mallet on the Saturday as Matt’s Aunt and Uncle live there, so they kindly let us stay with them overnight. Not wanting to go into detail, but I spent most of Saturday back and forth to the loo. At first I thought it was maybe nerves for the race the next day, but I was actually feeling pretty chilled about it and calmer than usual: if there’s one thing triathlon has done for my pre-race nerves it’s taught me that running only events are nothing to flap about! You turn up, in your kit, ready to run. You need trainers, shorts, vest, which you should be wearing. No stress about remembering a list an arm long of other kit items, or of making sure the bike arrives safely and mechanically intact. Triathlon has made running seem so simple! The next morning, I was still making friends with the toilet and was a bit worried. It also happened to be the first really hot day of the year: hot and humid. Oh well, nothing to be done, just have to do my best. 

Pre-race team Devon photo.

The first 5k went by fine. This section was pretty flat and I am used to running this distance now. I went over the chip timing mat in 19:32. Then the hard bit started. The second half of Frome 10k was just non-stop hills! There was a one mile uphill stretch from miles 3-4 that seemed to go on and on and on. Then a small downhill section, before more undulations, and then a half mile slog up a very steep hill to the finish. I think I must have been low on electrolytes by the end, due to the aforementioned toilet visits and sweating more than usual in the heat, as I really ‘hit that wall’. I was lying in 3rd place in the ladies race at halfway and was the second counter for the Devon ladies’ team, but that soon changed. I let not one, not two, but three ladies come past me in the last couple of miles. I finished 6th lady and 5th for Devon: that was the one consolation, that all the ladies who came past were my teamies, so at least it meant that with 5 out of the top 6 being Devon runners, we had easily secured the team prize! So, individually not my greatest performance. My pre-race time prediction had been 38:00 – 38:45: rather optimistic, given that I actually trailed in in 40:23! However, it was hot, and hilly, and I had had the shits for two days running! ;-)

The final hill at Frome 10k. I am now down into 6th female, bringing up the rear of this trio of Devon teamies!

Looking back on my three appearances in the Devon vest, I am beginning to question that it’s not the luckiest attire for me. The first cap, I tore my calf and limped home at Plymouth Hoe 10; the second outing, at the Inter-counties cross country, I missed the start and had to play catch up from the otherside of the field, and the third occasion, well, see above! If bad luck comes in threes, my next appearance for Devon should be truly scintillating!!!

Since Dambuster, I have taken part in just one other triathlon, and that was the Honiton Sprint tri. What a joy to have a triathlon on my doorstep, with the bike course being on the roads I train on and know like the back of my hand, and with the swim being in the pool in which I train. And what a joy to come out of the water feeling warm for the first time this year! 

I was still feeling tired going into this, but it was a low-key local event and so I figured I'd just use it for training. Maybe that mindset helped me to relax, as I had a pretty decent swim (7:36 for 400m, holding some back for the bike and the run). The bike went ok, apart from getting held up behind a car on the windy, narrow lanes down through Buckerell village, and the run felt good, but it came in well short of 5k (2.75 miles). On a sprint tri, I need the run to be over rather than under distance ideally, to give me more ground to make up time on the speedy swimmers and bikers. I finished in the position I expected to: 2nd female and 1st in my age category, behind talented local triathlete Kerri-Ann, who is an amazing swimmer.

Out on the 21km bike leg on the old A30, near Fenny Bridges.

Return leg of the out-and-back bike course.

Approaching the finish line at Honiton tri: my 5th tri of the season, all of them in grey, wet, miserable weather!

But one thing Honiton tri highlighted is that I definitely need a break: I woke up the next day with yet another sodding cold! I had thought to try and push on to the end of the season and then take a couple of weeks off, but I am not sure I can wait that long! I have been on a heavy training schedule since January, with just a couple of lighter weeks in amongst, and so I think that I have gone past the point of reaping any benefits from just the odd rest day: I need a full rest week! Fortunately I am about to get that as we are going to Scotland and Islay for a week on 3rd August. This holiday was originally scheduled around running the Islay Half Marathon, but my latest plan is to be sensible and do no running or cycling and just have a couple of easy swims to keep the body loose. 

Targets wise, I just have one more triathlon booked in this year and that is the end of season Cotswold Olympic distance tri on 11th September. I will not be taking up my place on the GB squad for the world champs in Mexico. Some people who don't know my situation may think me mad to pass up such an opportunity - and yes, when I watch it on telly come September thinking 'I could have been there', I may think myself mad too - but believe me when I say it is the right decision for me, and I have made peace with it. Hopefully there will be other chances to make the team.... and I hear next year's world champs are in the less exotic, rather handier location of Rotterdam! So I can now afford to take a whole week off in Scotland, then come back and put in a couple of good training weeks before tapering off for the Cotswolds. And then, well, maybe then I’ll treat my poor battered, tired old bones to a decent length break…. I can hear my husband laughing as I type this…. but the good intentions are there!!

Damn Dambuster busted my damn backside!

Earlier this year, when I was planning my 2016 triathlon season, the Dambuster Olympic (standard) distance triathlon at Rutland Water on 18^th June was pencilled in as my ‘A’ race. It was a qualifying race for the age-group world triathlon championships which are to be held in Cozumel, Mexico, in September this year. All the other races, chiefly the Slateman double, were to be used as training races building towards this one. I have to remind myself that prior to this year, I had only competed in triathlons for one season and only one of my three races last year had an open water swim. They were all sprint distance too, so it wasn’t exactly ideal that my first bash at a standard distance race was at the worlds qualifier! When I sat down with Dennis and Liz (Elliot) at the end of last year and planned my line of attack for 2016, the one qualification race they said was best to avoid was the Dambuster as it notoriously attracts a strong field due to its location, setting and superb bike course. What race did I end up opting for? Yes, the Dambuster! Not because I ignored their advice, and not because I was arrogant enough to think that I could still qualify here, but mainly because it was the only race that fitted in with my schedule. The other two qualification races were earlier in the season and clashed with Slateman; also, I needed time to build up towards the hilly 42km bike course and so needed more cycling miles in my legs. So Dambuster it had to be!

This was 2015, then came 2016 and with it talk of zika virus running rife in Central and South America. Suddenly the Olympic Games in Rio had a cloud cast over them and suddenly I am thinking that destination Mexico isn’t the attractive prospect it once was either. The zika issue is complicated and many people will just say, ‘It’s not dangerous, it’s a lot of hype over nothing, don’t worry about it’. And yes, I agree, and I am not some massive hypochondriac that is scared to travel anywhere with tropical diseases – I am well-travelled and not usually fazed by such things. I don’t want to talk about my personal health issues here on a public blog, but just to say that, for me personally, the zika virus has reason to make me question whether the benefits of going to compete in Cozumel outweigh the risks involved in doing so.

So, here I am, two weeks out from the Dambuster and of the mind-set that even if I qualify, I likely won’t take up the place. The age-group qualification system is complicated, and one of the many processes you have to go through is to pre-declare your intention to qualify by registering your interest with the BTF and paying a processing fee of £10. Even if you finish first in your age group, –  indeed, even if you win the race outright at a qualifying event – if you have not registered and paid this £10, you cannot be selected for the GB team. It seems bizarre as it can mean that a weaker team is often selected as a result, but that’s just the way it’s done. I was so adamant that even if I qualified, I wouldn’t take up the place, that I almost didn’t bother to register and pay the fee, but Matt persuaded me that for just a tenner, I would be daft not to and I would buy myself some time to make a proper decision if I did qualify. It did mean, however, that I went into the race less motivated than I would have been, had I been desperate to qualify, like I was at the Clumber Park Duathlon.

And so to race day. The race was the day after my birthday – bad scheduling! – and so I spent the majority of my birthday traversing the UK on various over-crowded motorways. A stop at the Gloucester Farm Services for a proper cup of coffee was pretty much the highlight! I wasn’t feeling all that energized and up for this one. Aside from the qualifying/not taking up place issue, I had been struggling with a string of coughs and colds since Slateman in May. June also comes with the added bonus of being hayfever season. I had just about shifted one cold, then did the South Hams tri and it came back again with a vengeance. As a result, my training volume had had to drop off and my fitness levels had taken a nose-dive. I wasn’t hitting my usual times on my hill reps when running, and my swimming had suffered tremendously. A CSS timed swim one week before Dambuster saw me post a time of 7:24 for 400m: slower than the 7:15s I usually bash out with ease as part of a 4 x 400m intervals set. I was feeling constantly tired, had had to have a day off sick from work for the first time since I’ve been in this job, and basically I knew that what my body needed was a mid-season break, not to be heading into my targeted ‘A’ race feeling physically tired and mentally drained.

On the drive up in the car my nose was constantly running. I tried to tell myself it was hayfever, conveniently ignoring the fact that we were sealed in, windows shut, and air-con on. Saturday morning, race day, alarm goes at 5am and yes, it’s confirmed, I have another sodding cold. I’m totally bunged up, feeling groggy, extremely low on energy and have zero enthusiasm for getting out of bed and going to swim 1500m in a freezing cold lake, nevermind the 42k of cycling and 10k of running that was to follow. There’s only so much that excessive amounts of nasal decongestant spray and coffee can do for you when you’re in this sorry state!

The women’s wave was the last wave to go off, at 7:40am, but all competitors had to be racked before the first wave at 6am. This led to a lot of standing around, getting cold and wishing I could just get on with the thing and get it over with and finally celebrate my birthday! It was the largest mass swim start I have experienced yet, with 150 females all lined up together. The first buoy came very soon, about 100m into the swim, and so it was obvious from watching all the male waves go off that the swiftest and most direct line was by starting on the far right hand-side. The advice is that if you don’t like the washing machine effect, either start at the back, or start on the far edge of the line and take a longer route. No, I’m not the best swimmer, but I am ridiculously competitive and so there was no way I was going to swim any farther than I had to, so I started on the far right, about 3 rows back. We hit the first buoy en masse and it was total carnage. I lost count of the amount of elbows and feet I had pummel me in the face. Two or three people tried to swim over the top of me; it was just horrid! I was glad when we rounded that buoy and the field started to thin out and I could find some clear water, start to establish my own rhythm, and get my breathing back under control.

At 1500m this was the longest openwater swim I have done to date, and it seemed to go on and on and on. What I found though was the longer it went on, the stronger and smoother I felt, and in the latter part of the swim I started to pick people off. That said, I was very relieved to round the final buoy and turn for the exit! Swim time: 32:00. Earlier in the year I would have expected 29 – 30 minutes, but, like I said, I haven’t been well for a month or so and this was a pretty accurate reflection of where my swim had dropped off to!

Women's wave mass start at Rutland Water.

Charge! To the first buoy.

Here it comes: the creature from the black lagoon!

A smile of relief that the swim is done!

The usual faff with wetsuit / numb hands from freezing cold lake combo. 

Onto the bike and I knew I had a lot of places to make up (later found out I was the 102^nd woman out of the water – shockingly bad!). We had driven part of the bike course the day before and the race organiser’s description of ‘hilly but not technical; suits a strong biker’ proved to be spot on. There was barely any flat ground to be found, but the hills were long, straight and sweeping and I found I didn’t need to hit the brakes once. It really suited me as I am strong on hills, but a Jessie on technical descents, and these descents didn’t bother me as you could see what was coming. The route was mainly along A-roads, which would have been near empty when the first elite male wave went off at 6am, but were getting busier by the time we hit them at 8:15am, but they were wide enough and, apart from one congested village, I didn’t need to adjust my speed for traffic. It was, however, a very windy day, and although the course was effectively a large rectangle, it seemed that whichever direction we turned into, it felt like a headwind! I knew I was making up ground as I was picking off rider after rider and nobody came past me, but I was acutely aware that that was because there were only about 50 ladies left behind me after the swim and most of those would be the slightly less athletic ones, so that wasn’t really an indicator of me having a good bike, more an indicator of how atrocious my swim was!

Into T2 after a bike split of 1h19, averaging just under 20mph for a hilly course. I didn’t know how this compared to the other women out front, but as an indicator, I knew that when my friend Lucy Commander rode this exact same course as part of the Dambuster Duathlon, in which she qualified for the GB age-group duathlon team, she posted a bike split of….. 1h19! So that was at least a sign that I’d had a fairly decent spin.

Help! Which way to the run out?! (2 hours of hanging around before my wave start and I didn't think to check this, doh!)

Off on the run, which was a flat out-and-back 10k along the lakeside path and out over the dam, from whence the race derives its name. The route is a big curve and so, when you turn at the halfway point, you can see the finish across the lake and it looks so tantalisingly close, and yet you know it is actually 5km away! I felt comfortable on the first half and arrived at the halfway turn bang on 20 minutes. My plan was to lift the pace on the return stretch, but I turned and suddenly realised why I’d felt so comfortable: I’d had a tail wind on the outward leg, and now had a stiff headwind, with nowhere to shelter from it on the exposed dam. My pace dropped off slightly and I was starting to get very low on energy, having to dig really deep into my reserves in the last couple of K. My main motivator was to finish and then I could have my well over-due birthday celebrations and prosecco!! My 10k run split of 40:30 was the 5^th fastest female run of the day. Not enough though to make up for the 10 minutes I lost on the swim and when I went to get my print out of my finish time and position I was both shocked and disheartened to see I’d come 32^nd female overall and 10^th in my age-cat. This is the lowest I have ever placed at any form of race, and it was a bit of a leveller as to where I am at when faced with quality competition. As an indicator of the exceptionally high standard at this race, there wasn’t a hybrid bike in sight, nobody was cycling in their running shoes, and my poor Cannondale was pretty much the cheapest bike on the rack! It again made me question whether there is any point in me even doing tris whilst I am losing so much time on the swim. I certainly had written off Mexico qualification, as I needed top 4 (definitely not 10^th!) in my age group to secure auto-qualification.

Just caught this Jersey age-grouper in the last 200m of the run!

Happy to finish this one.

Mind you, this was before I'd seen the results and realised I'd come 32nd, so this smile soon faded!

The one bonus of finishing so far down the pecking order was that there was no hanging around post-race for prize giving! I’d had enough; I was cold, wet, full of lurgy, and I knew that there was an exceptionally large bath tub waiting for me back at our hotel room! Post-bath, it felt like I’d been up for so long it should be dinner time, but in reality it was still only midday! We spent the afternoon exploring Melton Mowbray. No pork pies were consumed, but a very large (and very early!) meal was enjoyed… and yes, it did include prosecco!

Hello megga tub! My husband has a habit of choosing good hotels!

Hellz to the yes! Let the belated birthday celebrations commence!

After 3 nights in Rutland we went on to Stratford-on-Avon for 3 nights and saw 2 productions at the RSC and made the use of my free staff entry by visiting multiple N.T. properties, indulging in the odd cappuccino and scone along the way! After that we had a further 3 nights in Birmingham and we had tickets for all three days of the British Athletics Championships. A great itinerary, but unfortunately I spent most of the holiday ill: turns out that doing a triathlon on a cold doesn’t actually speed up the healing process, who’d’a thought?!

Pre-show drinks by the river outside the RSC in Stratford.

Ready to watch Dr. Faustus - but feeling knackered and full of cold, as you can no doubt see!

At the British Athletics Championships in Birmingham.

Halfway through the holiday I checked my emails and was flabbergasted to receive an email from British Triathlon to say I’d been given one of 6 discretionary places for the GB team for the world triathlon championships in Mexico. I had totally written this possibility off, finishing so far down the pecking order, but it turns out that as the Dambuster was by far the toughest selection race on offer, due to the high quality field, they decided to allocate all of those 6 discretionary places to participants at this event, so I just snuck in through a rapidly closing backdoor!

Am I going to Mexico? Jury’s still out on that one. I am very near to making a decision though, so will save that announcement for my next blog!

Not finding my sea legs in the South Hams

I had my friend Vikki to thank for my alarm going off at 5:15am on Sunday morning as I had taken a last minute place off her for the South Hams sprint tri, as she was going away with work. As it was (fairly) local and wouldn’t involve over-night accommodation, I decided to squeeze it in as a confidence booster before what was originally planned as my ‘A’ race of the season: the Dambuster next week. (For various reasons, it’s been demoted in value, but that’s for another post after the event!) Mainly, I just wanted to get back out there and enjoy a triathlon again, after feeling supremely cold, wet and miserable at the Slateman and considering never doing one again!

It was a stressful day on several counts. First of all, my supporter in chief, aka, my husband, had cricket, so couldn’t accompany me. My second wave supporters, aka, the parental units, were therefore drafted in. Whilst my Dad loves watching me compete, he isn’t a fan of early starts, and so he decided that we’d have more than enough time if we left at 6:15am to get to the venue in time for the close of registration at 7:30am. I thought even 6am was pushing it, and I was right! Once you get off the A38, the roads that lead to the South Hams are rural, and slow! I was getting increasingly agitated as the clock struck 7am and we weren’t even at Totnes yet! I then realised I’d forgotten to transfer my energy snacks from my car to my parents. I get blood sugar dips and so for me, going from breakfast at 5:30am to finishing the race four hours later is too long to go without food! The only thing we had in the car was a banana. Now, anyone who knows me well will know my thoughts on these. I had a dilemma: risk crashing into the proverbial wall half way through the event if I had nothing, or somehow force this vile substance down my throat and, chiefly, somehow keep it down. Pinching my nose, squealing, singing to myself, and punching the car seat, I opted for the latter. One banana consumed: possibly my greatest achievement of the entire day!

We pull into the carpark with 3 minutes to spare before registration closes. There is a substantial queue for registration and I join the back of it. It’s a slow moving queue. 7:40am and I’ve advanced 2 places. I’m in the first wave and due to swim at 8am. My kit is still in the car, I’ve not yet got my number and timing chip, and I don’t even know where the car is as I dived out to join the queue. Stress levels rising. I knew 6:15am was too late.

Finally, I see my Dad sauntering over. I shout instructions at him to go and get all my kit, including the bike, out of the car. I would have preferred to do this myself and left him queuing, but the officials need to check your face against your BTF race licence photo, so I have to stay. 5 minutes later, Dad and Mum appear with my kit and my bike. No helmet. Where’s my helmet? Dad realises he’s left it on the roof of the car. Off he goes back to get it. I double check to make sure my Dad has reattached my front wheel correctly. No, he hasn’t, it’s on the wrong way round! Remove the wheel, reattach it. Yay, I’m at the front of the queue. Ellie Dominey. What’dya mean, I’m not on the list? I was on the start wave list sent out via email? I took a fairly late entry off Vikki Thompson, but the change was processed in time. Can you check again please? Phew, they have found me.

Ok, now to attach these stickers to my helmet and bike, attach my emergency tool kit to the saddle, and attach the race number to the number belt. Gaaaah, can’t make a hole in the number. Too fiddley. For God’s sakes. Mother, bless her, steps in, and sets to work on making holes. I realise that as it’s now 7:50am and there’s only 10 minutes to go, my time is better served getting into my wetsuit. Have I gained weight? It feels tighter. Why is it so tight? As for a warm up, ha!, no time. Will warm up as I go. A risky strategy as, with my calves, I like to warm up and stretch first before getting into the cold water. Realise I need the loo – haven’t been since I left home. Now have wetsuit on and queue for loos is about 12-15 deep. Sod it. Eeeeeeew. Yes, I did. Before even getting in the water. Figure it will flush through during the swim and I’ll be clean on exit. Never said tri was pretty.

Beach start at Blackpool Sands. Sea looks calm but had a large off-shore swell.

I am the one near the back, probably!

Walk down to the beach, 2 minutes to get in, splash your face, acclimatise, then back onto the beach for the mass beach start. Water feels very cold – was hoping it would have warmed up more by now. The sea looked calm enough from the shore, but once we got out there was a very large swell. It didn’t take me long before I actually started to feel a bit sick with all the ups and downs! Ridiculous. Didn’t realise I’d need to take Sealegs or Stugeron before competing! There were 2 waves – wave 1 for swimmers with a 750m time of 15 minutes or faster, wave 2 for 15 mins +. At the Cotswold tri last year, I did exactly 15 minutes, so I opted for wave 1, thinking I’d rather draft quicker swimmers than lead out and pathfind for the slower ones. I did realise though, that this would put me as one of the last to emerge from the water and warned my parents not to be alarmed if they were waiting longer than they might think reasonable for me! Still, I had a shocker of a swim even by my already poor standards. I tried to draft a guy early on and get on his hip, but he was going too fast, I couldn’t hang onto him. At the first turn, I realised I wasn’t last, but definitely in the last 9/10^ths! You know you’re going really bad when a guy pulls up alongside you doing breaststroke! Nope, for me, triathlon swims are definitely to be endured, not enjoyed. 2 massive gob-fulls of the English Channel and 19 whole minutes later, I finally emerge from the sea, like some bedraggled, washed up porpoise, and start running up the beach to make up some lost ground. ‘You’re 18^th woman’, my Dad shouts at me, ‘What happened? We thought you must have drowned’.  Luckily for him, I was too out of breath to produce an equally sarcastic retort.

The long, tiring run up the shingle beach to T1.

Get off, you swine.

T1. Not great. Never is. There is an art to wetsuit removal, and I have most certainly not mastered it. But, T1 time 1:51, sub 2 minutes is getting better. Off on the bike, the first mile is up a 16% hill. Chance to warm up and start making my way through the field. Climbing, I am in my element, picking off lots of riders. The descent down the otherside was a little bit dicey due to recent rain making the surface slippery. Three people would come off by the end of the morning, one being a more serious ambulance job, so I did my usual cautious thing of feathering the brakes the whole way down. Onto Slapton sands and there is a headwind, chance to get on the tri bars, start upping the power and working my way up the placings. I lose track of how many women I’ve overtaken, but, at the turnaround of the out-and-back course, I see about 6 or 7 women coming back the other way in front of me. I get a couple more of them on the return leg and pull into T2 in 5^th position in the ladies race after a 45 minute bike split – this was to be the 3^rd fastest female bike split of the day.

Cresting the top of the first hill.

And coming back down it at the very end: 3 people came off on this corner, it was steep, sharp and slippery - all the 'sssssss'!!

The organisers changed the run route on race morning. Concerned with crossing over the main road as they did last year to head up the valley, they decide to create an intricate and convolute 4 lap route around the event car park. It involved hurdling a wooden fence twice on every lap, and running up a steep, sandy and slippery sea defence wall four times too. It was rutted underfoot and very twisty and didn’t allow me to utilise my best discipline to its full effect as you just couldn’t establish a rhythm. That said, it was the same for everybody, and I did manage the fastest female run split, so I guess we all found the going hard. 22 minutes for a short 5k is far from fast, but it was decent enough given the course and allowed me to claw my way up to a podium position by the finish, coming in as 3^rd lady overall and 2^nd in my age category. I wouldn’t have expected this halfway through the swim, I would just have been happy to finish without regurgitating all the sea water I swallowed. There is a danger here I could focus on the negatives again - yes, I had a shit swim, but I loved the bike route and made the best I could of the run, given the course wasn't all that runable! I did ok.

The strange 5k run route around the Blackpool Sands beach car park!

Lots of snaking about around fencing - rather confusing!

More stress then came as I headed back to transition to collect my things to find my wetsuit missing. As boxes have been banned in transition by the BTF this year, it tends to lead to belongings getting strewn everywhere, run over by bikes, kicked along by runners, generally trampled into the grit and dirt. I’m not a fan of this new rule. My wetsuit, being the basic entry level Foor Classic, is owned by many and so I guess someone picked it up thinking it was theirs. Much panic about how I could source a new wetsuit in time for heading up to the Dambuster in 5 day’s time and the person realised their error and brought it back. Stress not quite finished yet. I go to print a final print out of my finish position to check I am still in 3^rd before the prize giving and it says I am now 27^th woman! What?! How can I be 3^rd in the faster wave, yet 24 women from the slower second wave have beaten me? I ask the organisers to check, he casually tells me, ‘Oh yes, you were disqualified.’ SAY WHAT? ‘Scuse me? For what? ‘You only did 3 laps instead of 4 on the run.’ ‘No I flippin’ didn’t! I remember every one of those ghastly, convoluted things distinctly, plus both my parents were counting them for me. I can even show you my Garmin data’. After showing that my watch revealed I’d run 3 miles in 22 minutes, he double-checked the computer and realised that he’d accidentally copied-and-pasted two x lap 1, forgetting lap 2, so the computer thought I hadn’t run that one and automatically DQ’ed me! Minor heart-attack but he did manually amend it so I was called forward for my prize. Matt always tells me I am too cynical, but there’s a reason my motto is ‘TRUST NO-ONE’!!

Thanks must go to Vikki for the half-price entry, which I then won back in cash and prosecco: good prizes at this event. Vikki, being the amazing all-round athlete that she is, would have easily contended for top honours had she been on the start line.

Cash and prosecco - prize heaven!

The event has left me wondering where I go from here as far as multi-sport is concerned. Last night, we had a CSS timed swim at tri club. The last one I did, back in October, I swam 7:04 for the 400m. Last night I did 7:24. I know I was tired, but still, to get slower over the winter, after diligently training with the club twice a week, in addition to swimming at last once a week on my own on top of this, is bloody frustrating to say the least. I am acutely aware that I am no water baby. I figure I have probably improved all I am going to on the swim, but, at the top level of competition, this just isn’t good enough to keep me in contention. I lost 6 minutes to the first lady out of the water at South Hams; our bike times were pretty equal, and I made up 4 minutes on the run. I simply cannot claw back what I lose. I can regain some time, enough to scrape me into 3^rd spot – which is what keeps happening – but without a better swim, I will never be able to access those top two berths against a strong field. With duathlons, I replace my weakest discipline (swim) with two cracks at my best discipline (run)…. I think if I am to compete at a high level, it will have to be in dus and not tris.

We’ll see what next Saturday brings. The Dambuster will be my first crack at the Olympic distance event with a 1500m lake swim (yes! Love a lake, no waves, so salt!), 42km hilly bike and 10k run. Having decided that even if I qualify for the worlds at this event, I won’t be taking up the place, the pressure is now lifted and I can go to Rutland Water next week and aim to enjoy the experience of competing against a top class field and seeing how I fair.

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 :-)