Riding, pushing to maintain 30-32km average, my clearest thoughts were why and never again. Suffering on the run leg, feeling flatter then ever before, my mantra became pure survival and still never again. Two days later my finger hovered over the 'enter' button for another half in Feb... The mind is a powerful and dangerous thing!
So I haven't yet entered, still tossing around the idea but my legs a week and half later heavily protested. I'm actually listening for once.
So a race debrief:
A 4.50am start - apart from my insomniac moments, earliest rise for the program. Managed breakfast and body cooperated with all functioning needs. Checked Monday, poor girl outside all night, still pumped and in one piece. Tub of gear was a smart move but felt insanely amateurish next to the other pros tweaking their bikes.
Lubed or should I say 'glided up' and even applied sunscreen, must have worked as I came out unscathed, none of those moving chauffing spots that seem to find a new location everytime.
Race debrief scared the pants off me with merging swim lanes, buoys that were blue on the map but yellow in the water...but it bonded me with my fellow competitors and I reassured myself with the old school cross country experience - I'm never going to be at the front and someone else will know where to go!
The swim - pleasant surprise:
Low expectations sometimes create great moments. The necessary evil turned out to not be so bad. Shivering with nerves and a little chill, I got some great advice from another first timer. In the words of her coach just use the the first 15 mins of each leg to settle in. Wise, reassuring and workable. Establishing a rhythm was difficult and didn't manage my new 4, 2, 2 breathing regime for the whole race but I surprised myself passing some other purple caps and had a pep in my step when I emerged 42mins later.
The ride - little bit proud:
Mild initial panic when Monday was clinking and my clock appeared to have disconnected. Frantically pressing all combinations of buttons until I just tapped the counter back in and magically my cadence kicked in, thank god as that in hindsight would have been disastrous for maintaining effort. Psychological games a go go for the next three hours, cursing my lack of bike time and realising that beach road rides with coffee breaks and help from the pack doesn't quite cut it for race day. This is probably my proudest effort then, averaging 30km for the 90km of self driven riding. Consciously had to maintain and used some good tricks to keep me focused, 10km pieces, eating/drinking rewards, telling myself never again, chanting push down, pull up. Severe pain through my left butt for the whole second lap, like sitting on a sharp pole.
The run - lessons learnt:
On the bike I'd decided lap 1 settle in, lap 2 push, lap 3 get home anyway possible. It seemed feasible, I was working hard but despite the bum pain I had confidence in my legs. Managed my loo stop and didn't mind my wobbly lamb legs until I felt the reality of the heat. My knee was hurting and my legs kept buckling but I was sure a couple of k's in I would settle. That first lap was hell and then it got brutal. I was confused geographically as I wasn't expecting a little trip around the lake before the out and back, I then wasn't expecting the out and back to be quite so far out and back. Passed people consistently over the first lap but still felt like I had concrete poles for legs. It never seemed to end and without a watch I was sure I'd barely run 6km pace. Lesson learnt. Wear a watch. I know psychologically if I'd been aware of my pace (4.40ish) I would have lifted. Instead my head started the game playing. I relented and started pouring water over me at every station, Helsinki was coming back. I knew I could do it but I suddenly decided it was just about getting to the end and suddenly the leg I had believed in and never doubted, became the hardest part. TP's hand squeeze was highlight and I kept red dot checking. I lifted a bit as I realized here really was less than 5km to go, collecting the final wristband I suddenly knew I could finish but I also suddenly went completely empty. Though I thought I had consciously been fueling, well at least more than 'normal', the price was about to be paid. Though it was really too late I tried to suck back a gel. More attention in the future to fuel intake for sure.
The end:
I crossed the line and nearly hugged the lady as she gave me my medal. Actually more like she grabbed me and guided me to a seat to remove my chip and then helped me up and into the recovery tent. The tent was awesome, a real highlight to be completely surrounded by other people who had just been through the same trauma. I can semi liken it to a nightclub experience, strangers united by a common euphoria and in a slight state of disbelief. The ice cream and fruit oscillated in my tummy, one moment it was just what I needed and the next I was lurching, 4 plates worth was probably a little too much! When I finally spotted two of my supporters I lunged from disbelief to emotional wreck. They played yin and yan, one sympathizing and crying in synch with me, the other giving me stern words.
Car trip home included a full bag of S&V chips, double snickers, two gatorades, half a bag of natural confectionary and a beer, nil stretching:
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