Female Super Sprint
27th / 151 competitors
Swim – 00:12:26
Bike – 00:25:45
Run - 00:11:57
Total time – 00:58:25
'Exhilarating' is the word that first comes to mind when I look back upon my experience of The London Triathlon: the biggest Triathlon in the world. When I awoke this morning, as much as I reassured my mother otherwise, I have to concede that the thought of diving into The Thames was somewhat daunting. Swimming in the comfort of an indoor pool is one thing; 400m in open water is quite another.
While drowning would be difficult with the hundreds of canoed volunteers at hand, as we bobbed around at the start line (if you could call it that), doggy-paddling on the spot, the competitors were united in a state of nervous anticipation. How did I know? I overheard conversations. The Welsh chap hired to ease the tension through leading a pre-swim rendition of 'oggy oggy oggy' and instructing us to hug one another probably succeeded but evidence suggested only partially.
And so we bobbed, and bobbed some more in The Royal Victoria Dock, until one lady realised that she had forgotten to remove her wedding ring. No doubt she had racked her bike co
rrectly, collected her timing chip, remembered to hydrate beforehand and affixed all the relevant numbers to hat, helmet and bike and yet forgotten that one little thing. Whoops. Fortunately a canoe-mounted marshal could spare a finger.
And, all of a sudden, the canoeists moved away, revealing clear water ahead. Bobbing metamorphosed into frantic thrashing: arms, legs, you name it, it was attempting to propel bodies through water. Held up by a breast-stroker who, quite frankly, should not have been positioned so near the front, I felt compelled to start thrashing too. And I did, soon manoevering myself around her. The course ahead was not entirely clear and so I aimed to keep an inside line and keep one distant buoy in view. The water was mild, the wetsuit a success but the right goggle a minor irritant: I had a leak. I pressed on, relieved at the emergence of some open water rather than a collection of orange capped thrashers. Soon it was time to turn and I knew to expect congestion. Gulping water due to splash from clashing bodies, I held firm and barged through. Clear water again, half-way.
The second half progressed smoothly, my front crawl remaining faithful to its practiced technique and I felt in control. The wetsuit aided buoyancy and seemed to make breathing easier than in the pool: result! After an uneventful spell with no collisions, I approached the final turning bouy and headed to the jetty. Clambering out with the aid of a helping hand (quite literally) I began to remove my wetsuit.
After an embarassing episode at an open water swim training session when I seemed destined to remain wet-suited forever, I was determined not to repeat the same error again and didn't. Left hand up, pull the velcro, pull the zip, one arm out, other arm out, pull it down, one leg out, other leg out, off you go: I'm making this sound easy. Try it at home, while running.
Free of the suit, it was into the Excel Centre transition zone to locate the bike. I had racked it in Row C with my helmet, laid out my towel with my shoes (clad with all new elasticated laces!) and put my helmet and number in convenient places. Slight problem. There wasn't just one Row C. Up and down I ran for a couple of valuable minutes: had someone stolen my Raleigh Calypso mountain bike? Surely not, it was possibly the least triathlon-inclined bike there. The poor blue machine, in retirement since being removed from the streets of Cambridge, had recently received a facelift and been de-basketed but the shiny road bikes were in a different league. But it did have a bell and I bet the others didn't.
Anyway, after at least a minute of panicking, I finally found the Calypso in what turned out to be the second Row C. Quick! Dry feet, shoes on, helmet on head, affix number to tri-suit and run with bike to the exit. After losing some of my advantage after a strong swim, I was jolly well going to try and make it up in the cycle. And Calpyso wasn't going to stop me.
A lengthy incline was in store upon exiting The Excel Centre, necessitating a period of standing up on the peddles, and then there was an opportunity to free wheel. With the wind rushing through my slightly damp hair, I was flying and beginning to think that this could be enjoyable. Then there came some stretches which were hard on the quads and I spurred myself onwards with mutters of 'come on' and 'push harder'! The sight of some unfortunate cyclists walking back with broken bikes was a cause for concern as the Calpyso struggled with some gear changes . Fortunately, it held on and seeing cyclists ahead with superior bikes was motivating.
Indeed, the highlight of the cycle stage was undoubtedly one such moment when two speedsters appeared ahead, shortly before a hairpin bend. I envisioned the move, appreciated the risk but decided to try it. Hurtling up behind them at full speed, I passed them both on the inside coming into the turn, slammed on the breaks and negotiated the corner to the sound of a disgruntled, arguably angry, "I nearly fell off then!" behind. Look out Mark Cavendish.
The Excel Centre approached and thoughts turned to the run, until arrows directed us up a practically vertical incline to transition. Thoughts swiftly returned to each revolution of the wheel, the effort of which was quite phenomenal. Then it was inside and back to the dreaded bike racks - I put mine in Row C, which one I don't know. Quick! Helmet off and start running.
'Oh no! What's that? You want me to run? You must be joking!', said my legs. Heavy, like lead weights hanging from my hips, their obstinacy required some stern words from the competitive part of my brain. 'You're doing this, whether you like it or not.' Gingerly, at first, but with more ease upon exiting the building, they reluctantly obeyed and took me through the field with satisfying efficiency. The run was a strong point as I overtook a number of competitors over the short course, which was possibly the hardest 2.5km of my life. It turns out that my run was the 2nd quickest of all competitors.
Me on the left overtaking at the finishThe loop took us along the dock and then back into the large exhibition hall devoted to the event in The Excel Centre for the finish. Apparently, according to my Dad, my name was read out over the loud speaker as I neared the line, overtaking one flagging girl ahead thanks to the cries of one chap who said, 'go on, you can get her'! Tripping up as I crossed it, I was struck with tiredness and elation as I hazily collected my medal and had a photo taken on the podium.
What a thrilling experience and a pleasing result for a first effort! My only regret is losing time looking for my bike in transition – I won’t let that happen again!
Triathlon is the fastest growing sport in Britain: now I know why! Here are 3 reasons:
Number 1: The variety ensures that boredom is impossible - no sooner have you dived into open water, then you're on a bike and then you're on the road running.
Number 2: It's a real challenge - after a swim, jumping on a bike isn't the first thing that comes to mind. And after cycling, going for a run is almost certainly the last thing on your mind. The legs feel heavy and seem to scream 'NO!' when asked to move. Furthermore, it requires all-round ability with weakness in any discipline being exposed.
Number 3: It must be healthy (if you don't swallow the water) - every muscle gets a full work-out both during training and the event.
