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That Double, somehwere near Birmingham
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lol!
I'm busy that weekend, sorry
I maybe thinking about this..
Thats if I can squeeze it in between Lanza, Longest Day, Pennine Duathlon, IMCH and IMMehhhhicco.
Monique, theres a good pic of me checking out your arse on the official photies
BCB1682
I prob thought I could get away with it as it was under cover of darkness, but nope the cameraman caught me, lol!
Elite Ironman, Ultra Trail Runner
Oh it's all flooding back - almost in tears at my desk again. What an amazing day.
So proud of the pirates.
So if we was to go who would be there next year? Do we have a relay team, do we have individual competitors can we hire a live band for the carpark? The boredom seems to have worn off and I kind of think it might be fun, in a Im killing myself kinda way.........
Bagsey Dave to crew for me if Im mad enough to actually enter, Bagsey Debbo to do my cooking stuff, bagsey ATO to look after my muscles. Bagsey Crashie to enter again , roll on the Express (tm) Bagsey Meldy to do my hair styling. And put on my legwarmers for me!!!!!!!!
Right, Im covered.
What about me?
Couldn't I be employed to shout abuse at you? I'm good at that.
lol!
you can do the 'cooking stuff' too if you want Holly, what ever that is
Hang on!
You have just nicked half my crew for next year!
Whos the other half, I will have them too?
I thought the pirates were far too proficient this year. For gods sake one of them WON! I might go to redress the balance, you know, make sure the pirates bottom load the results page, bring a bit of pride and honour back to the fold.
We cant have people like Mon and Rosey hurtling round all over the place breaking records everywhere. It reflects badly on the rest of us. Pretty soon people will be expecting us to be "good" or something.
I feel we need to prove that Monique, Rosey, CRAB and co are the exceptions that prove the rule. The rule being "Ineptness"
((((((((((being fairly crap))))))))))
Ah, now 'ineptness' I can do. As the following, unnecessarily long account will testify....
Right, this could go on a bit, but I had to go without sleep for a couple of hours so it’s only fair I share some of the tedium.
For starters, the first question anyone asked when I mentioned the Double was, “Why?”. My cool and clever answer (pinched from someone on Tritalk, I think) was “If you have to ask, you’d never understand the answer!”. The true answer was, “I have no idea – I haven’t really thought it through” – but sufficient to say that I was mostly just showing off. It was nice to brag about having entered, but once I started doing the long bike sessions, I realised what I had let myself in for. By this time however, too many people knew I’d entered so I couldn’t pull out. The real panic set in around five months ago and passed some time on Sunday evening.
After entering, Lurker, in her ‘no frills’ manner had suggested that it was a bloody selfish thing to do, what with having two small children at home. I assured her that this wouldn’t be a problem and that I’d agreed with my wife that training time would be in perfect balance with quality family time. I was wrong, she was right. I’ve probably been the world’s worst dad and husband for the past six months. Once I started spending all day, every Saturday out on the bike – then Sundays out on the run, this led to some real upset and arguments. In every instance I was in the wrong (despite not admitting that to Wotsit until a few weeks before the race). My lowest point being when it was a lovely sunny day, I was to ride a number of long laps and had to call in at home to get more food and water. The kids were having a great time playing in the garden and, although I stopped for a few minutes, they got really upset when I angrily told them to stop squirting me with water and let me get back out training.
Once I was back on the road, I almost broke down crying – I realised I had become completely self-centred and a horrible person to boot. The only time I saw my family was when I was too tired from training to play – and my training meant that we had no social life at all. When I finally saw what I had become, I lost all interest and told Wotsit that I would pull out of the race.
“If you dare do that after the misery you’ve put us all through, I’ll never forgive you. The very least you can do is finish the stupid bloody race!”
‘Nuff said. Inspiration returned, and training got better after that! Lurker was right – you can’t have a young family and still dedicate the training time this requires without it doing some real damage. I’ve got some ‘making up’ work to do – and we’re starting with a holiday next week!
Right, that’s the preamble sorted – anyone still reading?
Putting aside family issues – training never really went ‘well’. I seemed to pick up every illness that did the rounds. The kids would return from nursery with a slight sniffle – I’d end up in bed for a week. Wotsit would get a sore throat – I got laryngitis. Then in May, I had to sit some more professional exams. Although I was confident, I couldn’t risk failing, so this meant another few weeks out to study (yes, people say you can do exercise to de-stress – but not me! If I had time to exercise, I had time to do more study, and that was more important!). I then followed this up immediately with another couple of weeks of illness. Still, I passed first time – freakin’ genius that I am (everyone else in the company that had passed before had failed at least once)!! Smug? Oh, yes!
Just as training got back to ‘better’, and only a few weeks before the race – in true old codger style – I managed to put my back out unloading my bike before doing my BIG ride. 48 hrs of being unable to sit, stand, lie, move, cough..... anything! After this point, it started to improve, but even during the race I was totally dependent on painkillers to see me through (although, that probably would have been the case anyway....).
Right, blathered on enough – to the race (for anyone skim reading the dull bits, you can start reading now!).
Registered for the event at the Esporta in Lichfield on Friday. I was first there ‘cos I’m anal like that. Then, one after another, a stream of super-fit racing snakes turned up, unloading thousands of pounds worth of bike and kit – sponsored this and that, lots of “yeah, hoping for around 6hrs on the run...”. Oh....
Then a much older chap turns up – superb! I’m not going to be last!! “Hello Arthur!” yells the organiser and half the assembled competitors. Arthur Puckrin. Oh, tits – I’m back to being last again. (For anyone unsure, check out Candy’s triple report – Arthur is a legend in this world and with good reason).
The briefing came and went – Organisers Steve and Eddy were amazingly patient with nervous people asking the same questions over and over again. They were also as good as their word in that they would do anything in their power to help you out and make sure you finished. Can’t speak highly enough of the chaps at Enduroman.
Race day – up at 2:50am in the morning (a few redundant words there, just to annoy Crashie...). Bolt down a breakfast of porridge, banana and maple syrup then out the door – first big mistake – not working my way through a massive bottle of water (which I do for shorter races, so why the hell I didn’t this time...!!). Arrive at the venue at 4:45 in time for it to pour with rain. “At least there’s no wind!” I commented cheerily in a moment of Nostradamus-esque inaccuracy. Got the bike racked then was snapped out of my pre-race wibble by a very calm, philosophical hamster – as usual the voice of reason (although, if reason had a voice, would it have chosen a brummie accent? I’m doubtful (to which the hamster would no doubt question if that was the eighth dwarf...) (heh, heh, heh.... this is my story, so he can’t defend himself till the end!)).
Into the pool area to get changed. Despite being a 25m pool swim, wetsuits were allowed. I had a moment of doubt as to whether this was really in the true spirit of the event – but then figured I’m a crap swimmer, so I’m wearing it. Besides, Towel was wearing his. Pool temperature had been lowered, but it was still pretty warm. I was pleased I’d hacked off the wetsuit arms at the sleeve – much cooler and a much free-er (spelling? is that a real word) movement. Quick introduction to the chaps in my lane (or, let’s face it.... suss out the competition!), then we were off. Plan was to stop every 500m for fluids. That worked well for the first 1000m, then I went back to doing 20, 20, 24 to round off each mile (it had occurred to me that I had forgotten to work out how many sets of 20-lengths there were in 4.8-miles. Not beyond basic arithmetic, but devoting brain power to it whilst swimming was making me lose count of laps!).
Soon realised that, like GOM I was lapping the people in my lane despite me having the slowest IM swim time (well..... if I had an IM swim time, obviously.....). Popped my head up at the end of one set of 20 to be told that I was now into my second half. Current time was 1:14 and I’d been really pootling – so had a moment of “Oooooh, cool – wonder how fast I could do a proper IM swim....” but then I started losing count again, so went back to chanting “1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, [repeat per stroke], 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2....” – I think you get my strategy.
Actually found myself really enjoying the swim and being rather disappointed that it would soon be over. Right up until I pushed off at a funny angle whilst avoiding an incoming swimmer – cramped all the way up the pool and had to stop to sort it. Seemed to take forever.
Sure enough, end of the swim – like Crashie, I did the athletic leap out of the pool, ‘cos I is, afterall, Da Man! Promptly cramped to within an inch of my life in both legs, whilst everyone poolside said “why didn’t you use the steps?” Yeah...... feck off! Now I’ve had cramp before – I can deal with it. Few seconds, and your back on your merry way. Not this time. Muscles completely locked and just not easing up. Whilst it felt much longer, I was stuck in the water for a full 5-minutes. Added to that, I have a fairly wonderful allergy to chlorine (which may or may not have been in the pool, but I couldn’t take the chance), so had to go shower after the swim. Tried to use the time usefully and kick off my wetsuit in the shower. Cue more cramp. No idea how long I was in there.
I then made the most basic of first-timers errors – out in T1, in a rush to claw my time back, I didn’t dry myself before trying to squeeze into a snug Monaco. Four goes I had, before stopping – taking a breath – drying myself – then slipping into it easily. Design fault with the kit, obviously. During this time, Mon had been into T1, got her bike, got food and was out onto the course. Having finished the swim in just over 2:30 or so, my actual T1 time was nearer to 2:50. I was, by now, furious with myself.
Intermission.......
Some years later, in the land of Canaan............ No, my mistake – some time later in that same freaking car park in Lichfield....
The Bike
Started off waaaaaaaay too fast – and that was a huge mistake. Knew that I was a bit quicker than Crashie on a short course, but he’d probably have me on endurance so I had to close the gap early on, then just follow his pace. We’re pretty similar on the run, so I figured if I couldn’t keep him within distance on the bike, I’d never catch him. GOM was an unknown. I knew he was quicker on the bike over distance, but has ‘previous’ on the run. Didn’t know how he’d do. Er...... not that I was being competitive or anything, you understand......, but there’s pirate points at stake!!
On the first lap, I noticed that Crashie and GOM (not too far apart), were already well into the return leg before I was within two miles of the turnaround. Nuts! Still, I had averaged thick end of 30mph on the zoom down to the roundabout before Yoxall. I knew Crashie wouldn’t have been so reckless so I just had to do a few laps of that and I’d be laughing. Didn’t allow for the strong headwinds on the return though. By the time I got to transition again, I was blowing – but aware that I’d done a pretty good lap. Second lap was the same and I was reeling them in. It was on either the second or third lap however that I caught and passed Monique. Normally I’d be congratulating myself on a cracking ‘kill’ – but this was Mon. She knows how to ride bikes over distance. I instantly knew this had been a huge mistake.
Sure enough, within just a few laps, I was slowing on my food intake. I knew I had to sort this out..... but didn’t. As I had decided not to bother with clocks or computers or anything electric on the bike – all I was focussed on was riding 16-laps. Whilst this worked in so much as I only rode within my RPE (which I’m quite good at..... if you ignore the first couple of laps!), it was bad in that I became fixated upon “GET ANOTHER LAP DONE – WHATEVER THE COST!”. The result was that, despite stopping for several minutes to dither about what food I wanted each lap, I invariably selected ‘nothing at all’ (or nothing I could actually eat, anyway).
Still – for the first few laps I was happy to exist on what I had in the system, so wasn’t feeling too bad. By the end of lap six however, my backside was screaming!! The new saddle just wasn’t working out. Whilst it was fantastic when aero, it was just awful when up on the hoods. Having taken other peoples advice that ‘less padding is better for distance’ – this just didn’t work for me and I was paying the price for relying too much on other people’s opinions. Added to this, my legs were back to cramping badly, so at the end of lap six I take a good long break whilst ATOM works miracles on my leg muscles, Wotsit shovels food into me and a mechanic from Mammoth replaced my saddle.
Back out onto the bike. Bum was better, but the damage had been done and this never recovered. Furthermore, whilst I’d told the spanner monkey to set the new saddle to the settings of the last one – which was true – I’d forgotten that the new (now replaced) saddle was 5 or 6mm higher than my replacement saddle. The seat was therefore too low (this only occurred to me around lap 13 as the knee pain started to grow, but it was too late my then). Fecking Idiot!!!
Next few laps were a blur. I remember being told at some point that GOM had had to pull out. This only really half sunk in. I’d passed him at the side of the road a few laps ago in that ‘slumped over the bars looking sh*t’ sort of a way – but I put that down to his George Michael stubble. He’d assured me that he was ok, so I’d carried on. Besides, I saw him not far behind me after I’d passed the turn point, so he must be ok. I’d decided not to mention it to anyone back at transition in case they worried about him. In my head, this was the right thing to do. As the race went on and his pulling out sank in more – I started to get really down, feeling awful for him.
At my stop on lap 10, I was low. Really low. I’d barely eaten for miles and wasn’t getting through my drink bottles. I remember lying on ATOMs massage table (again), closing my eyes and just wishing it would all go away. I just wanted to sleep there forever. The distance wasn’t that bad – I’d done more in training, but the wind was destroying me psychologically and the lack of food/drink was killing me. I remember sitting on a chair, trying to eat something, just muttering to myself “I don’t want to go back out – I can’t face another lap...”. Everyone was fantastic though. “Just do another lap, then stop again – you’ve plenty of time – don’t race it”. Not race it was exactly what I did from that point. I took to coasting down the hills. Yes, this was costing me time, but it paid dividends when I was going back into the wind.
Next couple of laps stayed tough, then I remember popping in for a Mars drink and a few crackers (this may have been when ATOM forced me to eat them - that may have been later - I can’t remember). Either way, I remember heading out on my next lap with The Carpenters ‘Top of the World’ stuck in my head. This is bad enough, but given that I only know half the chorus and nothing else, it was bloody irritating. However, I suddenly realised that I was starting to cheer up – only a few laps to go and it would all be over (I had always focused on getting the bike done, then it’s a walk in the park after that......... Oh, if only I’d known.....)