Back to the grindstone!

“Check back here in a few weeks” were my parting words from my last blog post. I’m not sure when a few weeks turned into a few months, but it clearly did, and the pain and suffering of my post-Brutal battered body is already a distant memory. I believe I also stated in that blog post that I was going to have some end of season down time… I am notoriously bad at doing this as, let’s face it, I have a few dependency issues where exercise is concerned and start to feel lazy and irritable after two days without any, but I believe I have managed to have my own version of an end of season break. It definitely isn’t the complete two weeks off that many triathletes indulge in, but I cut my training volume right back to just 7 hours a week and, crucially, the long bike rides were knocked on the head and I felt I only needed to do an hour before cutting straight to the coffee stop part! Crucially, my body does feel less tired and ready to tackle the next block of training, which starts in earnest today.

I mentioned that some changes were afoot in the Dominey camp. Well, after much deliberation, I have decided to enlist the services of a professional triathlon coach…. I didn’t need to look far as Matt’s cousin, Chris, is a professional tri coach and personal trainer, based in Cornwall, and so I am keeping it in the family and handing over the control of my training to him. Last week marked the first week of my plan but, as I was up in North Wales and wanted to take advantage of the mountains and get out and about in the hills, both running and on the bike, the rigid plan got tweaked a bit, so this week marks the start of my training regime proper. Having someone else tell me what sessions to do, when to do them, how long to do them for, at what pace, at what heart rate, at what effort level, represents a massive massive change for me. Up until now, I have always done as I pleased. I have never so much as followed a basic plan from a triathlon magazine or from a website. I haven’t even planned a week ahead. My previous method has been to wake up, see what the weather’s doing, see what I fancy doing, and do it. Yes, I made sure I included a couple of weekly swims, three or four bike rides and three or four runs, plus a modicum of S & C work in the form of yoga and core classes, but, largely, my weeks have been unstructured. This new regimented approach will take a lot of getting used to, not least because I am now accountable to someone who will instantly notice if I miss workouts, adapt them, or, more likely for me, add in extra sessions.

We are using the software Training Peaks to chart my progress. Chris uploads my workouts, I complete them, my Garmin syncs with my TP account (like it does with Strava) and Chris can instantly see all my data from the session: pace, H/R, time, distance etc. As its name suggests, this software helps Chris, as my coach, to help me to work towards crucial fitness peaks that will coincide with all my targeted races. Again, a completely new way of working for me as my previous approach has been to just maintain a high level of fitness all year round and then taper off before any big races, but otherwise do a similar training volume week in, week out, all year round. I have no doubt that the prioritising and peaking method will bring results; mostly, if it helps to curb my tendencies to over-train and prevents me from feeling so tired all the time and picking up the myriad of illnesses I seem to attract so frequently, then it will already be worth it. If it brings me more medals at next year’s championship races, then it will be super worth it!

We have already pencilled in a handful of target races, with the early season duathlon qualifiers kicking things off in February and March. I have already qualified for next year’s European Sprint Duathlon Championships courtesy of my silver medal in Soria last year, so a trip to Ibiza in October is a scheduled highlight of 2018. The World Duathlon Championships also take place in Europe next year, in Denmark in July, so they are a target too. However, as I seem to be more of an endurance athlete than a speed queen, we have decided to target the standard distance (10k run – 40k bike – 5k run) for the worlds, before dropping down to the sprint for the Euros. Nothing is a given though, first I have to qualify and that will be a tough ask in itself. With the qualifying race being in February, the weather could very easily be naff, and so I have a back-up race pencilled in just in case. Most of my training between now and then will be heavily weighted towards the cycling, to get this slightly weaker of the two disciplines up to scratch. My previous approach to cycling over the winter months has been to do a couple of spin classes a week and to get out on the bike whenever the weather is favourable. My new plan focusses more on quality turbo sessions (good job I still have several episodes of my Downton Abbey boxset to work through….), with twice weekly social rides and the occasional visit to the velopark in Torbay for some tempo rides.

We had discussed the viability of me moving up to Half Iron triathlons next year, as I coped well with the distance at the Brutal, but with the timings of the world dus in July and the Euros in October and the very different training patterns needed for them compared to half iron tri training, we felt that sticking to sprint triathlons next year and keeping the main focus on the duathlon is the way forward. This will also allow me another year to really work on improving my swim in order to be more competitive when I really do want to give the 70.3s a good crack.

All of the above comes with the caveat that we are trying for a mini-Dominey, and so the aforementioned plans may well be thrown out the window at any point… however, we have been trying for a mini-Dominey for the past two and a half years without success, so we are just carrying on with our lives as normal, making plans as normal, and if we have to scrap them, well, we won’t mind one iota. I simply cannot put everything on hold as, quite frankly, I will go mad without a focus to distract me. And to all the people who have commented – albeit in good faith – that I should maybe just cut back on the exercise as that might help, sadly, it won’t. Believe me, if it would, I would give it all up in a heartbeat. But even my GP says to keep training and keep my competitive focus as it helps me to cope with the huge range of emotions that comes with desperately wanting to do the most natural thing in the world to a woman, to become a Mum, and being unable to.

Yesterday I enjoyed a run out at one of my favourite local races, the Templer Ten. It's always been a happy hunting ground for me, having run it 4 times and won it 4 times, so I was thrilled to take a win there again yesterday. Despite not having trained beyond 6 miles all year, my body held together well and I managed the 10 miles without too much of a sufferfest in the closing stages. It's good to know that the running legs are still there, lurking beneath the chunky cycling thighs!! But that marks the end of the autumn fun and now it is head down and back to the training grindstone this week, then next week we are heading out to Madeira for a little spot of relaxation and winter sun, where my training focus will shift to swimming and running, before returning to a week of baseline testing sessions (including running and swimming time trials and the dreaded FTP test on the Watt bike). Using the data from these, Chris will then plan my next block of training. Working so precisely to heart rate and training zones is not something I have ever done before, I have always just gone on feel and rarely even worn a heart-rate monitor, but I trust him and his approach explicitly and, to be honest, it’s rather nice being told what to do for a change; it takes the pressure off me making my own decisions!

River crossing at around the 7 mile point of the Templer Ten.

Templer Ten - 1st lady for the fourth time in a row of running it. My lucky race!

In the meantime, enjoy a few piccies of my recent trip to stunning Snowdonia, where a few fell runs and bike rides were enjoyed, in amongst some prosecco swilling with Moira!

50 miler on the lovely flat, open, empty roads of Angelsey.

35 miler along the Straights estuary trail to Caernarfon.

This road (and accompanying view) featured on the Brutal bike course. Nice to be able to go back and ride along it at a sedate pace and take in the stunning view!

The Brutal: my perfect race?

6am, dawn rising. An eerie mist and stillness lies over the lake. Normally I am in a state of pre-race panic about now, but this time I felt unusually zen! I had had a terrific night's sleep in the Victoria Hotel, right next to the race start, I awoke 10 minutes before the alarm at 5:10am feeling fresh and raring to go. Soria and the ETU duathlons champs were my A race for the early part of the season, but once they were over, all focus shifted to this. I had been building towards it all summer, albeit it whilst enduring an unusually high (even by my standards) collection of coughs, colds and D & V bugs which kept punctuating my training schedule, but I guess nobody ever has a hiccup-free race build up.  

I never look forward to the swim, but as I stood lakeside in the stillness of a crisp autumnal morning, I wasn't dreading it, which can only be positive! The start got delayed by 30 mins because the swim marker buoys had moved off course during the night and needed to be replaced; this was not ideal when you have timed your pre-race fuelling and toilet visits to perfection for a 7am start, but we all took advantage of the extra time for a quick cup of tea to keep us warm (provided by an aid station lake side - the catering on this event was simply unrivaled!) Due to waterlogging on the ground near the lake, we were stood in cold standing water for those 30 minutes and so my feet were already freezing cold and going numb by the time the swim even got underway! I had hoped for a swim time of around 40 mins, so exiting on 42 mins was down on what I'd have liked, but all the swim times were slow and I only lost 4 mins in the water on the lead ladies (I can often lose this over a 750m sprint tri, so 4 mins over 1900m wasn't too shabby!) and I came out in 6th place, so maybe it wasn't too disastrous and everyone was slower due to the cold. (9 degrees!!)

Neoprene Queen! Let no bit of flesh remain exposed to the cold!

Onto the bike and it took me a while to get settled and into a rhythm due to my feet being totally numb by this point. However, the forecast had drastically improved from the torrential downpours of the previous day and, taking extra time in T1 to put on a dry base-layer and cycling jersey, socks and gloves, meant that the rest of me was a nice temperature. I learnt many lessons from my flirtation with hypothermia at the Slateman last year, chief of these was that 3h30 mins on a bike if you are soaking wet and freezing cold is absolute torture. Above all, I wanted to enjoy the race and if that meant sacrificing a minute in T1 to ensure I was warm, then that's what I'd do. As it was, I had a comparatively swift T1 as I managed to overtake 3 ladies in transition and so went out onto the bike course as the 3rd lady.

The bike was a two lap route (29 miles each lap) around the Snowdon massif, heading out from Llanberis to Llanrug, up and over a cheeky climb (not the longest on the course, but the steepest in terms of gradient), down into Waunfawr, along down to Beddgelert, before starting the massive climb up through Pen-yr-Gwryd (Pen-Yr-Horrid, as I renamed it on lap two into a headwind!), to the top of the pass, then the long, fast descent down into Llanberis. Repeat. Seeing my friends Anne and Jim, and Anne's Mum, Jeanette, halfway up the long climb at Pen-Yr-Gwyrd on lap one was a massive boost. It was so lovely of them to come all that way to support me. They have become some of my best friends since joining N1 and it was great to have them there on the day to spur me on. I had already overtaken one of the ladies in front of me at this point and at the top of the pass a spectator told me that the first lady was only a minute in front. This possibly spurred me on to descend faster than my usual cautionary self would allow and I tried to get aero and make gains down the steep, windy, stone-wall lined descent: good job my Dad wasn't here to watch this part - he'd have been having a nervous breakdown. He has a 125cc motorbike he pootles about on and he never goes over 30mph on it or he says he gets a nose bleed! When I tell him I hit speeds of up to 40mph on my bike, he flips a lid!

I caught the first lady about 5 miles into the second lap, as we crested the hill out of Llanrug. There was a stunning view off to our right of Angelsey, which I pointed out to her, but she seemed more interested in trying to up her pace and come straight back past me. I figured if I'd reeled her in on lap 1, I must be cycling at a faster average pace, so I put the hammer down and put some daylight between us. Cautious that there was still a hell of a long way to go I kept telling myself: Do not get caught up in racing; if she comes back at you again, let her go and you can get her on the run. This isn't a sprint tri, it's your first time at the distance. Luckily for me, she didn't comeback and by the end of the bike leg I'd put 6 minutes into her and found myself with a decent lead starting the run.

Cycling through Waunfawr on both laps was very special. This is where I used to keep my horse, Arrie, (or Moonlight Dancer, to use her official papers name) when I lived in North Wales. Back then I was no where near as fit and healthy as I am now. I didn't really take great care of myself at university and used to struggle massively with the cold Welsh weather, particularly during its harsh winters. Rewind 10 years to 2007, and I was in fact in a hospital bed in Ysbtwy Gwynedd, having been buckerooed off Arrie for the humpteenth time, partially dislocating my shoulder, then being given cocodamol for the pain, and subsequently discovering I am in fact allergic to codeine and spending the next couple of weeks in hospital as they tried to stabilise my drastically low blood pressure. The whole episode left me weakened for some time and I would feel the cold even worse than usual. At this time, if you had told anyone who knew me that in ten years time I would be back here, swimming in a freezing cold lake, cycling around the mountain and then running up it, whilst being competitive at it, they would have laughed you out of town. I couldn't even ride when it was wet and cold as my body just shook with cold and then shut down. I was feeble. That thought wasn't lost on me as I cycled past the lane that led down to Arrie's stable. Two different decades, two very different lives. It made me a little bit proud to think how far I have come.

Matt, who was crewing for me, had the very thoughtful idea of putting some hand/feet warmers inside my run shoes before I got to T2, as he knew my feet were still numb and like blocks of ice after I told him as much when I flashed through race HQ at the end of the first bike lap. What a treat to put on warm run shoes; my feet were toastie in no time. A quick diversion into some bushes for a little wee I'd been needing for the past 20 miles on the bike and then I got into my running. The first 2 miles around Llyn Padarn are completely flat and allowed me to establish a rhythm. Matt ran these first two miles with me and was his usually calm self when I said, 'This stupid race ID bracelet is too tight on my wrist'. 'It's ok, you're doing ok'. 'I'm not doing ok: the circulation in my right hand is being severed'. (I do have a tendency towards the dramatics when I'm racing!). The remainder of the lake lap is undulating on wooded trails. I have run this loop countless times when living in Llanberis and knew every boulder underfoot that I skipped across.

Ok, 5.5 miles around the lake done, now just to finish it off with a little jaunt up and down Snowdon. I lose track of how many times I have run up Snowdon: in excess of 30. I used to venture up there regularly for a post-work, pre-dinner run when living with Moira in Llanberis. I have also done the Snowdon race 3 times. My Snowdon race PB being 1h 36mins.. it would take me a little longer today, 34 minutes longer.

As this was by a long way the longest endurance event I've done, I was worried about fuelling enough. I suffer quite badly from dramatic blood sugar drops and if this happens I feel faint and weak, so I was desperate to avoid this happening - so much so I probably ate too much (the whole bike section just felt like one continuous picnic!). Luckily I seem to have a robust constitution as I ate a whole manner of gels and isotonic products that I had never even tried in training (I know - rule number one right? But I simply cannot bear the things and it's only the competitivity of race day that will force me to consume them). Fortunately I didn't have any stomach or digestive problems at all.

As I set off up Snowdon, I had 2 young boys try to race me up the initial steep road section. 'Very impressive', I said, 'but you haven't just biked 58 miles around this mountain twice before this have you, ay'?! They soon ran out of steam!! I then saw Matt a quarter of the way up and he told me I had about 10 minutes on the next lady. I walked all the steeper sections and tried to bank time and run the more runable bits. At the steepest point, three quarters of the way up as you round Clogwyn and begin the hike up the steep scree slope, you are doubled over into the mountain, a Chinese lady appears out of the mist, sat down at the side of the path having a breather, she looked at me wheezing on past and said aghast, 'Oh my God! You must stop, take a rest. Come, sit down'. I replied, 'Rest! I can't rest, I'm in a race! ... I mean, I know it doesn't look like it, I'm going so slow right now'. It was quite funny and a welcome distraction from my calves which were screaming at this point and desperate for level terrain. I was very glad to get to the top, where a surprise was waiting for me in the shape of Jim Ephraums! He had summited via the Pyg track and was waiting for me at the summit cairn: I gave him the hugest hug before he spun me around and shouted after me, 'Go on! Down you go! You've got a mountain to descend'! The descent I had longed for was possibly even harder on the legs than going up. 6 days post-race and my quads were still burning and aching! Having gravity on my side helped though and I used it to assist me back down to the finish line, where Anne and her Mum, and also three of my best friends from my uni days were waiting for me. And, of course, my long-suffering husband, Matt.

This is a very low key event. There is no announcement, no fan fare as you cross the line, just the race director waiting to give you your medal and also the trophy for coming first lady (a piece of Welsh slate... I'd run over enough of the stuff, very fitting). In fact, 'informal and friendly' are the two words which most sum up this event. It is all very relaxed and supportive - you are allowed help in transitions from your crew; your crew can run with you or meet you at any point on the route, you rack your bike wherever you want, you take as long as you want in the transition tent, helping yourself to the huge array of food and drink on offer. Everyone who takes part in this event is on a journey together and the cameraderie is immense. 

Thank you Mr. Massage-man for making my legs better so that I could walk away from the event and not need to be carried!

Reflecting on the whole experience - because it was so more than just a race - afterwards... It was epic. I loved every minute of it from start to finish. I normally go through a bad patch in a race where the negative gremlins invade - Why am I doing this? Did I seriously pay for this? Where's the finish? Can it come now please? Ow, my legs ache - etc, but I can honestly say I did not experience any form of "bonking" or any negativity at all and just loved the whole thing. I'm not sure it's ever possible to have the perfect race, but, for me, the Brutal comes very close. The scenery, the setting, the support, the sporting performance I managed to pull out from god-only-knows where, all made it incredible. I finished in a time of 7h15mins (my optimistic target was 7 hours and my realistic target was 7h 30 mins, so slap bang in the middle!). In the end, I won the women's race by 24 minutes... I could have stopped and had a cheeky cuppa with Jim at the summit if I'd known this! Whatever the future holds for me in triathlon, this race will take some beating.

It must be highlighted that I did the shortest of 4 available distances on offer over the weekend. I did a half iron, which took me 7h15m of gruelling effort... there was also a full iron, a double iron and a triple iron, all starting together at 7:30am on Saturday. But whilst I was done by 3pm Saturday afternoon, the triple athletes were still going on Sunday.... on Monday.... and into Tuesday morning. They swam 11.8km, biked 350 miles and ran 78 miles (including Snowdon), continuously, just taking cat naps on some camp beds set up in the transition marquee here and there. The defining moment for me was on the Saturday night, when I went to bed aching, tired, but satisfied with a hard day's effort, turned out the lights in the bedroom in my friend's cottage in Llanberis that overlooks Snowdon, and saw the glowing lights of head torches making their way up the mountain at 10pm: the full Brutal iron athletes. The following night (Sunday night), the same thing again, but this time the double iron athletes, then on Monday night, the triple. Mind boggling just what the human body is capable of, if its owner also has the strength of mind and will to accompany it.

One week later, today in fact, and I had all but forgotten I had a place in the Killerton 10k. Possibly not the wisest post-Brutal recovery remedy, racing an off-road 10k with nearly 900ft of climb, but I had a free entry as I work at Killerton, so decided to just go and see.... and I managed to win it! My legs felt great. I have been working with Nigel Wilman at Honiton Physiotherapy and he has put me on a strength program for my weak lower left leg that is clearly working: no way would I have come off a 14.7 mile (with 3500ft of climb) run and been injury free enough to race again a week later prior to this. But now, it is definitely time for a rest. 2017, you've been truly amazing, bringing me podium places at every triathlon and duathlon I have entered, a silver medal in the European championships, and a win at my debut over the half iron distance. But that's a wrap for this year. Planning for 2018 is in progress now and in a few weeks I should be in a position to announce a few exciting developments that are taking shape. Check back here in a few weeks!

Thank yous to:
Nigel Wilman for getting my unruly left leg race ready.
Moira Tait and Sarah Thornton for the superb post-race hospitality (and prosecco!).
Glynis and Stef Kelly for the kind use of their lovely cosy cottage in the Brecon Beacons for a week of post-race relaxation.
Anne, Garry and Liz for lending me essential race kit (wetsuit, booties, waterproofs, etc).
Moira, Anne, Jim, Jeanette, Sian, Nigel for on course support and photography.
My friends at N1 Tri and Honiton Spinners for the company and motivation, especially on the long training rides.
My Mattie: for being there, not just during the race but throughout the whole build up to it. For not minding that we couldn't spend another Sunday together as I had to go out and do a 60 mile cycle instead. For being the best, most supportive husband ever..... even if your shamefully abysmal and frankly comic attempts to pronounce Welsh place names constitute grounds for divorce! I love you. x

Let's be brutal about this....

On Saturday I did the Moor to Sea cycle sportive. It was my last big training ride before I take on my greatest endurance challenge to date: The Brutal Half Iron triathlon in Llanberis in two weeks’ time. With its hilly Dartmoor course (5700ft climb over 64 miles), it was designed to be a confidence boosting ride to show me that I am in shape and ready to race. In reality, it did anything but! It left me feeling knackered, woefully under-trained, ill-prepared and with the anguished feeling that the Brutal is going to live up to its name in every sense! True, I was up half the night before it with dreadful stomach cramps (some sort of delightful double wammy of a gippy tum combined with women’s troubles… I won’t elaborate…), but even so, after breakfasting, caffeining up, immodiuming up and paracetamoling up, I had hoped to feel better than I did. It took me 4h11m riding time (4h13m including the two toilet stops I was forced to make) and I was relieved not to have to run off it like I will on race day but to go straight home and stuff my face to refuel. This also confirmed another worry I have for race day: I have issues with fuelling on the go. In truth, I just don’t like doing it. I enjoy going out for a long ride or run, emptying the tank, and powering home on the thoughts of all the lovely foods I will be able to indulge in at my leisure once I return as a reward. I like to enjoy my food and eat foods that I enjoy. Real foods. I have a big problem with gels – just the thought of them and their slimy texture makes me gag – and there are only so many home-made natural fruit and nut snacks you can consume before their fibrous content comes back to haunt you…. During my marathon running days, I developed my own refuelling system, which centred largely around Kendal Mint Cake and Benedicts’ Bitter Mints. I plan for these to feature on Brutal race day, but they are very high in sugar content and not much else, and I know that for an endurance event of 7 hours plus I will need to take on sustainable carbs, electrolytes and some protein to ensure I don’t book myself on a one-way ticket to Bonkesville.

The swim, at 1.9km, will be the longest I have competed in in open water, but I have swum the distance in the sea several times this summer and so, strangely for me with my aquatic demons, this is the discipline I am least worried about! It will be cold, but we are allowed to wear neoprene gloves, hats and boots, so that will help (thanks Anne for the loan!). The bike, make no mistake, will be tough. With over 6000ft of height gain over the 58 miles, it will be hard even in perfect conditions... the chances of this occuring, being Snowdonia, slim. If it rains, it won't be much fun, but I have ridden the distance in training, I can do it. The run, hmm, different matter entirely.... 

That small spec is me on a training swim at Budleigh!

Thanks to my sea swim buddy, Rich, who has pushed me on, put up with my whining ("Aargh! A jelly, can we head in now?", "No Ellie, we've only been in 10 minutes". "Ok, just one more buoy then." "No, 3 more buoys, then we can turn back". "Humph".)

The run is 14.8 miles which is made up of a 5.3 mile circuit of Llyn Padarn (flat for the first 2 miles, then undulating), then a 9.5 mile ascent and descent of Mount Snowdon via the Llanberis Path. My Snowdon summit PB is 59 minutes; my Snowdon ascent and descent combined PB is 1h36mins. These were both run on tapered, fresh legs. After 1900m of swimming and 58 miles of hilly cycling, I think the combined run efforts of lake plus mountain will take me around 3 hours…. if all goes well. The truth is, I am grossly lacking in run training. The last time I ran 14.8 miles in one go was in 2012…. I have been injured on and off ever since then and unable to get myself beyond 10 miles. Why, then, I hear you ask, would I sign up for a half-iron distance triathlon (in which the run is in fact over the standard half-iron distance of 13.1 miles), knowing this? Good question. Well, first of all, because I miss the long stuff. I always enjoyed the endurance events and, when not injured, the marathon was comparatively my strongest distance. I like the challenge of hitting big training miles and the satisfaction of increasing the volume and watching your times and fitness levels improve. Running 5k and competing in sprint triathlons is ok, but I can churn them out without any real commitment to training, based on my general decent level of fitness, and so I wanted more focus for my 2017 season. So, why not a flat half iron? Again, good question, simple answer: my achillies hates the flat. Pounding out a flat half marathon at the Exeter Half in 2013 was what started my long battle with lower left leg injuries. The same slap-slap-slap stride on the hard, unforgiving tarmac plays havoc with what is an over-use injury. In 2015, when my achillies was at its worst, I decided to run the Snowdon Race anyway as we were on our honeymoon and I just wanted to do it. Not recommended for someone with achillies problems, but I ran it, and the following day I awoke pain free and not stiff for the first time in months; it was as if the eccentric loading enforced on it from running on my toes up a steep gradient for a prolonged period had released all the gnarly knots and scar tissue and freed it up. My injury behaves better when running off road and on hills, so, why not make my half iron debut on a course which features a mountain?! There is also the matter that I just love Snowdonia. It is my heartland, having had the privilege to live there for 9 years, the last of those spent living in Llanberis itself. It was here that I took up running, in 2010, starting out as a fell runner and then branching out onto the roads and running my first marathon on Anglesey in September 2010. (I came 2^nd in 3h19). I did the Slateman Savage double triathlon last year and, whilst I might have spent much of the second of the two days cursing the weather as I flirted with hypothermia in a hail-storm descending the Llanberis Pass, I just loved the added challenge and the rugged beauty of the terrain. Triathlons that take place in towns and cities tend to be on flat, congested, built-up, multi-lap routes and, frankly, are totally anodyne and boring. Anyone with a modicum of fitness who can swim and ride a bike can then shuffle around a flat run course at 16m/m pace and complete one of these; not everyone can run up Snowdon. I like the fact that you are competing against everything that mother nature has to throw at you, in addition to the other triathletes and yourself. It adds to the challenge and makes completing events such as these that bit more satisfying. I have also come to realise that I don’t like sharing my space too much! Completing Bushy parkrun alongside 1200 other runners last month confirmed this to me! In fact, being in London for five days and sharing my space on the tube confirmed this to me! When I compete, I enjoy the solitude. When I train, I also enjoy the solitude – aside from the relaxed pace, social coffee ride, which is a highlight of my week – I just prefer to train alone. Alone, I am not influenced by the pace of others; I do my own thing to suit my needs. I am more than capable of motivating myself and get stressed by the presence of other athletes and supporters around me rather than deriving energy and motivation from them. When I am going through a mid-race bad patch, grimacing, swearing, having a personal word with myself, I don’t want anyone around me to see or hear it thank you very much! When the going gets tough, being able to gawp at stunning scenery definitely helps me to refocus and take stock: how privileged am I to be competing in such a wild, beautiful, untouched place? That is a big motivator for me and another reason why I gravitate towards these tough, remote, iconic events.

So, The Brutal. The clue is in the name I guess. It won’t be easy. But, as I mentioned in my previous blog post, the half-iron in the shortest of four races taking place on the same day as part of a Brutal Festival of triathlon racing. A half iron, a full iron, a double iron and, new for 2017, a triple iron. This latter, with its 11.4km swim, 352 mile bike and 78 mile run is just mind boggling to me. That anyone should even consider wanting to put their body through that is cause to warrant a mental health assessment alone! We all start together, at 7am on the Saturday. All being well, I should be done around 2pm or soon after. They will still be swimming. When I am finished, making my way (slowly) back to my hotel for a warm shower, they will still be swimming. When I am enjoying a fortifying evening meal and bottle of prosecco with Matt, Moira and Sarah that evening, they will just about be embarking on the 352 mile bike section (when we lived in St. Austell, Cornwall, and my Gran lived 15 miles south of Leeds, that journey was 355 miles… it took us all day in the car). On the Monday, when I am leaving North Wales and driving down to the cottage in the Brecon Beacons we have kindly been offered for the week by my friend Glynis Kelly, they will be running. 78 miles of running, including an ascent of Snowdon. They will hardly have slept, just 20 minute cat naps here and there. I don’t know if I feel admiration, amazement or animosity towards these almost alien people who not only choose but PAY! to subject their poor bodies to such an ordeal. I am certainly curious to go down to the event village on the Sunday afternoon, after they have already been going for 30 hours, and see what sort of state they are in. I just cannot comprehend ever wanting to put my body through such torture: with my shoddy immune system and inability to cope with the cold, it would, in all likelihood, kill me!

So yes, I know a half iron – even over this terrain – is an entirely achievable distance for many people, and certainly for me given that my summer’s training has been building towards it. The problem is, I don’t just want to complete, I want to compete. I don’t just want to shuffle round on the run; I like to blast out of T2 and get to work on utilising what should be (if fit and uninjured… ) my strongest discipline, offsetting my swim (my worst discipline… in case I never mentioned this?!) and working my way through the field. I need to remember that this isn’t the usual 5k run of a sprint tri. It is 14.8 miles up a mountain and will require sensible pacing and, crucially, sensible fuelling. Can I do it? Will I crash and burn? Well, if I do, I will have a foil survival blanket, light, whistle, mobile phone, waterproof jacket and trousers (thanks Garry!), water, food, blister plasters, hat, gloves, sun-cream, kitchen sink etc. in my mandatory kit bag with me, so I should at least hold out until rescue.*

Savage woman last year, Brutal woman this? If determination has anything to do with the outcome, then hopefully yes!

*Wonder if Prince William still flies the mountain rescue helicopter out of RAF Valley?.... Must make some pre-emptive enquiries.

Portishead-cold triathlon

“Aaaa-tchooo”! Yet another sodding cold. My sixth one of the year. We were crammed in like sardines on an over-crowded tube, returning to our hotel after a superb evening at the World Athletics Championships in London last week and I said to Matt, ‘I bet you I pick up another bug from holding onto this filthy pole; I haven’t had one for almost two months, I must be due one soon”. Sure enough, two days later, the sneezing started, and by the time Portishead Triathlon day dawned, it was a stuffy head-cold in full swing, making me feel super-grot.

I signed up to Portishead late on as I decided I needed another outing before the Brutal Half in September to race test my Sugoi long-sleeved tri-suit that I plan to wear and make sure it’s comfortable. It was the only triathlon I could find that was within travelling distance from home and that fitted in with my schedule; however, it still meant a 4:30am alarm call to be there in time for my wave start at 7:30am. Having taken Night Nurse to help me sleep, when that alarm sounded I was groggy as hell and no amount of caffeine on the car journey there was sufficient to rev me up. I felt proper ropey and did question whether it was a wise move to be competing and whether it wouldn’t make me suffer more afterwards. I decided it probably would, but I also felt I mentally needed another outing before the biggie, and so I decided to race it as a tempo effort and hold back from hitting threshold.

The swim was in a 33m outdoor Lido. Very nice, but with 7 people in my lane, some of whom did not seed themselves too accurately, it was a messy affair. I took it steady and didn’t get to the usual gasping for air stage, so wasn’t surprised to be 30 seconds slower than my Dorchester swim time, coming in at 7:57. A swift T1 and off onto a hilly and extremely windy bike course. The first part of each of the two bike laps took us along the coast road and there was an almighty crosswind coming in from the Severn Estuary. Every time I cycled past an open gateway I would get blown sideways: about the only time I am ever grateful for not having a swanky pair of deep rim wheels is in a strong crosswind! I always like a good hill and found that, even though not going at full pelt, I was picking people off throughout. I only averaged 18mph on the bike, but with 1000ft of climb and the wind factor, plus a total of four mandatory foot down and stop junctions, it was a hard course to establish a rhythm on.

Off to tackle a 25km hilly, blustery bike course.

 I took it easy on the first couple of miles of the run and enjoyed the off-road stretch along the coast path, before picking up the pace to 6:30m/m for the last mile. It was then a long wait to see how I’d done as I started in the third wave and there were around 200 competitors still to go after me: the draw back with pool tris is that they are very strung out; I was done before 9am but had to wait until midday for everyone to finish and for the prize giving. Considering I was holding back a bit on all three phases, I was pleased to have bagged another second place (getting to be a bit of a habit where pool tris are concerned; aside from the one win at Dorchester, I have placed second in every pool tri I have done!).

Getting blown along Portishead promenade.

 Now my thoughts turn to the big one: the Brutal Half in Llanberis on 16^th September. Not that there’s ever a good time to get ill, but if there is a really bad time, now is probably it! I decided that the week in London should be a kick back week to allow me to recharge batteries ahead of two high volume training weeks this week and next, and then a two week taper. Unfortunately, this week is now having to be another easy week, and next week I will likely have to build back in slowly and then we are getting too close to race day to be putting down any heavy mileage. Massively inconvenient but hey ho, nothing to be done; just got to hope that what I have done up until now will see me through. Mind you, having had plenty of time on my hands these past few days to read previous competitors’ race reports and comments on the Brutal, I am now questioning whether I haven’t massively underestimated this one…

As I think I mentioned in a previous post, the race I am doing is part of a ‘Brutal Fest’ of four different length races; my half iron distance being the shortest. All involve a swim in the always-glacially cold Llyn Padarn, a hilly cycle that circumnavigates the Snowdon range, and an off road run at the end that involves a full ascent and descent of Mount Snowdon. I will swim 1900m, bike 58 miles (two full loops of the Snowdon massif) and run 14.8 miles. The full Brutal will be double all of this; the double Brutal four times all of this, and the…. wait for it… triple Brutal six times all of this. Those taking on the Triple will be required to swim 11.4km (7 miles), bike 350 miles and then run 78 miles. No wonder this is billed as the toughest triathlon in the world! I have strong doubts as to whether anyone will manage to complete the triple. It is the first year they have held this (previously the double was the longest, and only 20 people managed to finish that within the cut-off times, no women). On the one hand I am in awe of anyone who is prepared to take on a challenge of this magnitude, but on the other, I find it rather ridiculous that these crazy events keep getting longer, harder, tougher: it almost belittles the achievement of doing an Ironman, once seen as the pinnacle of all endurance feats. The half Brutal, for me, will be a tough test of both my mental and physical strength. I estimate I will take at best 7 hours to complete it, and so it will be the longest event I have ever done (topping the Dartmoor Discovery Ultra by some two and a half hours). A half iron over this terrain, involving a run up Snowdon after you’ve already cycled round it twice and swum in a freezing cold lake, is no walk in the park, but because of the distances the other competitors are taking on, it will come out as the “sprint” version, the fun-run! I think any moans from me about how tired my legs are or how bad the weather is will be met with disdain by any competitors taking on the longer distances!

Ah, the weather! In my mind, it is going to be dry and sunny, it just is. Yes, deep down I know there is a very good chance it won’t be, but after having flirted with hypothermia in the awful conditions of the Slateman last year, I refuse to entertain the possibility that I will be cycling down a mountain in a glorified swimming costume getting hailed on once again. I just don’t know what I’d do if I awoke on race morning to find it hammering down… well, besides cry! Having recently looked at the kit list, I’m contemplating hiring a pack-mule to haul all my items up the mountain: waterproof jacket, waterproof trousers, mobile phone in water-proof casing,  headwear, gloves, minimum 400mls water, food and energy products, foil blanket, blister plasters, compass, whistle, light for attracting attention etc etc. I have not done anywhere near the running volume I would like for taking on a 15 miler (this is my current weekly mileage on a good week; I haven’t run this distance in one go since January 2014!), but I figure by this point vast sections of the mountain will be done at a walk anyway, and gravity will bring me back down again! My biggest worry is getting the fuelling right. I am not good at eating on the go and probably need to practice more, but I simply can’t stand gels and can’t bring myself to consume them in training. This week I booked an extra day off work as holiday so I could fit in two long bike rides and practice some refuelling on the go… instead I am stuck indoors refuelling on Lemsip. Ah well, nothing to be done but be patient and hope it soon passes. I know my immune system is not the best, but I can’t help feeling I have had my full quota of colds for 2017 already and so it should be plain sailing from here…. we’ll see.

But some positive news for the meantime, I have been seeing a new physio; he used to work with all the elite athletes at Loughborough before moving to East Devon. He has put me on a strengthening program for my achillies and left calf, and so far so good. I was able to return to a race that I really love – Totnes 10k – two weeks ago and was absolutely shocked and thrilled to have fought my way through the field to claim the win. I last won this race in 2013, the year in which I set all my PBs, but also the year in which my injury troubles started. So to have won but also, more importantly, to have only been 10 seconds slower than my winning time from 2013, was a much needed confidence boost. I had begun to doubt that I would ever get back to winning running only races again, so this was a massive deal to me. Running will always remain my first love and, although I have grown to embrace the freedom of the bike, nothing will ever beat the highs of those early days of my running career when I was taking the tape at marathons and venturing off on 3 hour long solo training runs along the stunning Devon coast path. There’s a long way to go in terms of my rehab, but there is now maybe a glimmer of hope that I may one day get myself back up to marathon distance…. And maybe then we can think about entering an Ironman! 

The hilly wooded section at Totnes 10k.

Chuffed to take the win at one of my favourite races.

If at first you don't succeed, tri tri again....

Halleluiah! I have finally won a triathlon! After 2 years in the sport, 12 different races, 4 second place finishes, 4 third place finishes, and a couple of anomalies (including the shockingly bad 32^nd place at Dambuster last year – the least said about that debacle the better –) I have finally won. Maybe the motto ‘If at first you don’t succeed, try / tri again’ isn’t just a meaningless idiom after all. Duathlons, fine, cracked those a while ago, but whenever water is involved, it all tends to go ever so slightly to pot. I am by no means an atrocious swimmer: when I go to the pool to train, I can totally hold my own in the “fast lane”… mind you, the slow lane often contains a plethora of people doing a superb variety of breast-stroke, backstroke, side-stroke and fuck-only-knows-what-stroke, so perhaps this is not really the most accurate gauge of my aquatic capabilities. In the pool, my all-time 400m PB is 7:02; in open water I tend to swim slower as I can’t avail myself of my thunder thighs to get a damn good push off the wall every 25 meters! However, in competitive triathlon, the top ladies are banging out swims in the region of 5 minutes for 400m and, assuming they can bike and put together a half decent run, two+ minutes is a hell of a lot of time to make up over the sprint distance. But today, it all miraculously came together. I posted my fastest competition swim split of 7:24 for the 400m and it felt comfortable. I hauled myself out of the pool not remotely out of breath and was able to follow on with a slick transition and a good getaway on the bike.

The bike course was a hilly affair, climbing 900ft over the 20kms up to the Hardye Monument above Dorchester, then a fast descent down, including crossing two cattle grids – always a total boneshaker – and a fast, flat last section back to T2. The climb was into a headwind and felt like a real slog, but I took comfort from the fact that I kept picking people off and that nobody – including the men –overtook me on the bike leg. Since getting my lovely Lively Liv, I have developed much more confidence on the bike and my descending skills have definitely improved as a result. I love the ‘swoosh’ noise Lively makes when cutting through the air…. a noise I had only ever experienced up until now from other riders as they zoomed past me at speed as I slogged ever-onwards aboard trusty old Cannondale. The long-term aim is to get her some snazzy new deep-rim carbon wheels to make her even livelier, but at £500+ a pop, that’ll have to wait for the time being!

The run was fab. Off road, hilly and over distance (3.5 miles instead of the advertised 5k at 3.1): everything I love and everything I need to offset the time lost on the swim! Last week, at Honiton Tri, I posted the fastest female run split but, at 2.8 miles, the run was some way short of 5k and so the run to swim time ratio doesn’t weigh in my favour. In fact, this win came at just the right time as, despite improving on my Honiton Tri time from 2016 by a minute last week (all of which came from improvement on the bike), I had felt frustrated and deflated to still finish as second lady, and I was beginning to doubt whether an overall female win would ever be possible for me in triathlon, given my crappy swim credentials. Truth be told, I have had a rather naff week in general, involving much soul searching. Following my resignation from my role as Club Captain and Communications Officer of my tri club, I have spent a couple of weeks questioning my future in a sport which, at times, can be very money-orientated, materialistic and elitist. Several bouts of introspective naval-gazing, the penning of a very negative blog post (which was never intended for public consumption, but was cathartic to write nevertheless), combined with some good talking-tos from my bestie tri buddies – Anne, Jim, Garry and Moira – and now today’s win and ensuing bout of endorphin fuelled, post-race euphoria, have made me sit up, sort my self-indulgent, sanctimonious shit out, kick myself up the pants and put a halt to the miserable, moody mare attitude.

But, let’s not get carried away… I won at a pool swim event. The telling factor will be whether or not I can repeat the success at an open water tri, which tends to involve even more sub-aquatic demons for me than the benign waters of a leisure centre pool…. even with its floating verruca plasters and added ammonia extras! But, for now, I need to be positive, to celebrate this milestone with some prosecco (cheers!) and keep working on my swim survival skills so that winning becomes less of an ‘oh My God, I can’t believe it, I got so lucky’ occasion, and more of a regular thing! Over the past few weeks I have developed the diligent habit of swimming in the sea for a good 30 min plus session with my old Exmouth Harriers buddy, Rich Bishop; and, whilst I am never going to be one of these people who deludes themselves that a refreshing dip in the murky, jelly fish-infested waters of the English Channel can be anything more than tolerable, I am beginning to grow in confidence in open water. For the Brutal Half Iron in September, I will need to swim 1900m in a freezing cold mountain lake. On present form, I should do that in around 38 minutes, but, to be competitive, I need to shave that down to the sub-35 region. It’s a big ask, but I like a challenge. Bring it on!

Honiton Sprint Tri, 9/7/17

400m / 20k / 5k: 1h06m03s. 2nd lady

Dorchester Dash Sprint Tri, 16/7/17

400m / 20k / 5.5k: 1h14m09s, 1st lady

Stourhead Sprint: Survive the swim, savour the bike, smash the run!

Triathlon season is underway! Last weekend I competed in the Immortal Sprint at Stourhead. With a 900m swim, 19 mile bike and 4.75 mile run, it’s actually midway between sprint and standard distance, so a 'mega sprint'. I was attracted to this race by a few things: the shorter swim to bike/run ratio; the stunning location within the grounds of the Stourhead Estate (part of the National Trust, so bonus points for free staff parking, 20% discount in the café and free entry for my supporters, all part of the N.T. staff perk package!); the 5pm start time. 5pm is an unusual time for a triathlon – they tend to be crack of dawn affairs – but the Immortal Sprint was part of a weekend of racing within the estate, with a 10k race Saturday morning, the sprint Saturday evening and a half iron distance at 7am Sunday morning. Was an evening race more enjoyable?…. I’ll cover that one in a bit!

Being 2 weeks after the duathlon champs in Soria, I thought that this was sufficient time to rest and recover and feel raring to go again. However, me being me, our 4 days in Madrid were spent entirely on our feet, walking here, there and everywhere, and that was tiring in itself. The day after we returned from Spain I ran the Ivybridge 10k. When I signed up for it I thought I would be in good 10k shape, but all the set backs of 2017, including the achillies niggle at the start of the year, then the 8 week long cough/cold/chest infection and then a calf strain at Clumber Park all meant that I just wasn’t able to do the training and the miles needed to get myself up to speed. I decided to run Ivybridge anyway and was pleased with a time of 40:16 on what is by no means a flat course and to just clinch third place in a sprint finish…. I don’t do speed work and my legs are just not used to sprinting, so this turn of speed came as a shock to me! 4 days after Ivybridge I took part in my first ever cycling time trial, a 10 miler on the Sid Valley course that goes on the A30 through Honiton and back. I clocked a time of 26:45, which, I am reliably told, is not a bad first attempt… for a woman…. on a road bike… with no power meter or HRM or any means of pacing herself other than via her usual ‘go like fuck and hang the hell on’ approach: it hasn’t let me down yet! Anyway, Stourhead then came 3 days after the T.T., so, in hindsight, I once again took on a bit too much in a short space of time and didn’t feel exactly fresh and raring to go come race day.

A pre-race stroll around the gardens and grounds.

 The 5pm start…. Hmm…. On the face of it, attractive: no setting the alarm for ghastly o’clock and relying on intravenous caffeine to get you going. However, I never seem to perform well at evening races and every evening race I have done I have struggled to get my nutrition and eating pattern right throughout the day and this often leads to me getting a mid-race stitch at some stage. It happened at Ivybridge (a 6pm start) where I struggled with a bad stitch for the best part of a mile, and it happened again here. I am someone who suffers with severe blood sugar crashes and needs to eat little and often throughout the day and I think, with evening races, I end up eating too much through fear of having a blood sugar bonk mid-race. Evening races also mean you have a whole day to stress and get worked up rather than just a couple of hours. We went up to Stourhead early to make the most of the long drive there, make a day of it and look around, but then I start thinking, ‘I’m spending too long on my feet, I’ll pay for this later, maybe I should just go and sit in the café and eat some more….’ By the time 5pm came, I was devoid of adrenaline as I’d used it all up in the hours preceding the race, but full of food and stress hormones having spent hours working myself up. On reflection, I think I prefer morning races!

On the lake shore, ready to go: let's get this aquatic ordeal over with!

Charge to the first buoy, which was very close to the bank and very congested!

 The lake at Stourhead is sizeable, but not massive, and to fit a 900m loop into it, they have to take you almost out to its perimeter. At one point you swim through a narrow channel between the main bank and a lake island. Although it looked lovely and clear from the bank before we entered, it didn’t take long for 200+ triathletes to churn it up and, because we swam so close to the shore, most of the swim was in very shallow water (at one point I put my hand down to take a stroke and scraped the rocks on the bottom). The result was the most awful swim experience I’ve had yet! There were no staggered wave starts, all 200 ish competitors set off at once, and the turn at the first buoy was fast, frenzied, and gnarly. I got dunked, swum over, elbowed and kicked, and swallowed what felt like half the lake, and this was only 100m in! My breathing rate went up, I couldn’t establish a rhythm as there was just no space, the water was so silted up it was black as the night… can you tell I hated every minute of it!? It was extremely disorientating to plunge your face into pitch black water, then turn to breathe in full sunlight and keep repeating this process every breath. I felt…. get ready for one of my favourite words…. discombobulated! “Never again. Stick to duathlons. You hate swimming and you are shit at it. This is not for you.” 

For me, the swim usually pans out something like this:

Feel competitive and fired up, so position myself at the front on the start line.

Look over my shoulder, see how many competent-looking swimmers are behind me, start shuffling back a couple of rows.

Claxon goes, we start swimming, I swiftly start getting over-taken.

Realise I was wildly overambitious and should have positioned myself 6 people back, not 3.

Have a truly horrendous experience at the first buoy due to my over-zealous positioning.

Emerge the far side of the first turn, looking like a drowning tortoise that’s found itself cast adrift on a giant pond and is then being attacked by a pack of vicious but graceful porpoises.

Why are you doing this? You are tortoise, not porpoise. The water is not the place for you.

Regroup. Remind myself that although I’m the tortoise of the water I am the gazelle of the dry land: my time is coming; I just need to get through this ordeal first.

Finally the pack starts to thin and I can actually start swimming (as opposed to the drowning avoidance type of survival moves I have been employing up until now).

Start to pick off a few swimmers who went out too hard early on. Swim exit sighted. Feeling good.

Haul myself out of the water and back into my natural environment.

Meh. Survived. Suppose the swim wasn’t so bad. Now let’s get to work.

Swim survived: now we get to work.

 At Stourhead though, the pack did not thin out and I never got to the point of finding a nice rhythm and picking people off. That swim exit could not come soon enough! Once back on terra firma, that is where the race really begins for me. Time to start making up all the places I have just lost. Let’s go!

It was a long run up a fairly steep drive to T1 (T1 time of over 5 minutes for most competitors give an indication of how far away the racks were from the lake). I think this played to my advantage as I overtook 3 women on the run up to T1 alone! Out on the bike, wanting to put my bad swim behind me and put the hammer down but my slow swimming once again came back to bite me. The problem with being so far down out of the water is that there are so many people in front of you who are far less athletic and less fit than you on dry land, who you now need to overtake. The first part of the bike route was on windy, narrow lanes through a couple of villages and I found that the cars that overtook me would then get stuck behind groups of slower riders in front, who I was now catching. For about 2 miles I was stuck in a tail back of cyclists intermingled with vehicles and I couldn’t overtake and get going. Absolutely maddening but nothing to be done – you can’t overtake cars on blind bends and put yourself in the path of oncoming vehicles – just got to sit it out. I tried to focus on the positive and the draft effect and easy ride I was getting from being behind a car and, once the road was clear, I cycled my wee legs off to make up lost ground.

It was a rather hilly route (1400ft elevation over 19 miles), which suited me well and I posted a bike split of just under the hour, averaging 19mph. Lively is living up to her name and consistently delivering me faster bike splits – my white speedy dream machine! Survived the swim and savoured the bike; now to smash the run!

Arriving back into T2 and my Dad told me ‘You’re 6^th female”. I asked, “How far ahead are they?” “5 and 4 not too far, but the others quite a long way”. Hmm…. at 4.75 miles, this was longer than the usual 5k distance of a sprint tri, but would it be long enough to allow me to reel them in? Just gotta go for it and find out.

Off to smash the run!

I caught one lady about a mile in. Ok, 5^th, keep working. The first 3 miles were a slow, steady uphill drag, then we turned back into the estate and began a steep, one mile long descent. I told myself, you can’t be your usual cautious self on the downhill, just go for it. So I let the brakes off and let gravity do the work for me. Approaching the 4 mile point and I hadn’t passed and couldn’t see any other women. We were heading back uphill again and I was flagging and thought about backing off a bit as I wouldn’t have space to catch them now….. and then Matt appeared! He has a habit of being in the right places on a course when I either need a mental pick me up or else some information. I screamed, ‘Where are they all? I’m just not catching any women!’ He said, ‘Third is only 40 seconds ahead and fading fast. You can get her. Push on, go on, push on’. Third? I thought I was fifth. Maybe I had overtaken another lady and mistook them for a man. Maybe my Dad miscounted. With renewed vigour, I kicked on and around the corner I saw her. The last 800m were all uphill and the lady looked like she was struggling. ‘Go past her and go past hard and make it look easy so she doesn’t think about trying to go with you’. She clearly had nothing left to do that and I rounded the corner into the finish funnel to hear my name being announced as third lady. Yes, my Dad had miscounted…. that’s the last time I listen to on-course info from him!

Podium! Might have caught second place too if I'd been able to see her - the invisible triathlete!

Incidentally, the lady I just beat to the podium is a vet 50-59 year old. I have raced her twice previously, at the Cotswold Sprint (my first open water tri) in 2015, and at South Hams Sprint in 2016. Both times, she beat me. She is a phenomenal swimmer and a terrific biker but her run is the only weak spot. So, whilst I take some encouragement from beating her for the first time, I also remind myself that she is approximately 20 years my senior and a truly classy triathlete. I was 13th lady after the swim, 5th (not 6th!) after the bike and 3rd by the finish. I posted the fastest female run split by over 3 minutes, but I lost around 4 minutes on the top ladies on the swim. The usual story. Us top 3 women all finished in consecutive places within a minute of each other.... just needed another mile on the run distance and reckon I could have had a sniff at the top spot. But this is triathlon, not uno-athlon, and there is always a crappy swim to offset.

A couple of days later, back at work, when I informed N.T. Ranger colleagues that I’d swum in Stourhead lake and it was a truly ghastly experience, they comforted me with their talk of weils disease and cryptosporidium. I laughed with them, but then, when 5 days later I was struck down with the more horrendous D and V bug I’ve experienced since having the norro virus in 2012, I’m not so sure! Maybe I had every reason to dislike that swim after all! Who knows? But I think a little break from triathlon is needed for a while before I can face another swim survival experience! Lucky for me that a week’s cruise around the Adriatic for my Mum’s 70^th birthday will provide that break.