(OCD warning. There's a lot of detail here. A lot. Only for sad and hardened cases, and perhaps not even for them. For everyone else I recommend skipping to the Summary at the end, at least after the first few paras)
The detail
This triathlon is complicated. We are in the Olympic Team Relay (M+F), start time 11.30. The baton is a clever chip attached to the ankle with a velcro strip, and the cyclist and runner also share a race number which the cyclist wears on his back and the runner on his front.
Everyone gathers in a hall the size of an aircraft hangar, massive, with rows of steel bike racks. Swimmer, then cyclist, then runner. So Laura starts us off, in wetsuit and green hat, bravely into the dock and with easy strokes out to the start line. Now the waters of Victoria Dock are far from limpid. Directly under the flight path for the take off from London City, bitterly cold, brackish with a tinge of fuel oil. Delicious.
Laura is one of these
At 11.30 the whistle goes and they're off, a tangled thrashing of limbs, all bunched together, a jungle out there. Our team pack horse and photographer, Allan, unable to catch our heroine in satisfactory pixels, but we've got one of her on the way out to the start.
Angus, who has already gone way beyond the call, bids us farewell. Here he is by Laura's dock, in trousers of fetching pink of which his children, Georgey (she a gazelle-like runner) and Ian (angelic guitarist) for some reason disapprove:
In our team meeting we agreed a time of 2 hrs 45 mins would be respectable. 30 mins for Laura to swim 1,500 metres (er, how long would it take you? In my case, if I finished at all and gulping breast stroke even permitted, 3 or 4 hours) 5 mins transition (so-called) to Mark (Laura has to take off wetsuit and hat, put them in a fetching blue sack, run up stairs and through the hangar, hand over the chip; he has to run with bike and cycling shoes through the hangar to the start of the cycle course), 80 mins for Mark to cycle 40 km (er. Just averaging 30kph (or for the antediluvian 18.75 mph) including some highly technical turns) 5 mins transition to me, 45 mins for me to run 10 km.
But we don't really mind of course, being balanced mature types for whom the taking part is the point, promoting Fairbridge and having a fun day out.
Mark and I wait nervously with the rows of others for our swimmers to appear. He's doing the visualising thing, so I give him a bit of space. Did I tell you that Mark has done something extremely silly? In June he did the Raid Pyrenean (check out his webpage. Get out your chequebook if you've got any money left after being so generous in my campaign, it's never too late). In a nutshell, 18 major peaks, total climb equivalent to Everest three times, 714km that have to be completed in 100 hours. So he knows what he's doing, although this is the first time he's done one of these, more of an endurance climber than a sprinter he explains.
First out a sprinting man of ludicrous physique with "Army" on his gear. Well there's a surprise. A few more arrive, and cyclists rush off. Then Laura, looking remarkably composed, comes running up with blue bag. Transition pretty smooth, and Mark scoots away.
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Mark in action
I choose this moment to leave transition hall, leave the Excel centre altogether and go for a little snooze. This triathlon extravaganza is sponsored by Mazda (Strapline: Run, Cycle, Run, Drive. Yes). Not entirely sure about Mazda, but they have kindly provided large bean bags on the grass outside. Settle into one of these, asking my neighbours to wake me up if I'm still asleep 20 mins later. Do a relaxation thing.
Wake up, chat to the neighbours, then go for a little warm up jog around the local streets. Stretch, with particular focus on Achilles who has been grumbling a little. Consider the Gez tips about the upper body and glutes, the Noakes wisdom about the central governor, not starting too fast etc. Remember that I've had about 1.5 litres of free Gatorade (no caffeine, artificial sweetners, artificial anything) pressed on me during the morning and a pit stop a good idea. Nothing to eat since the bowl of cold rice at 7.30.
Then I become obsessed. First time in my life. Suddenly it becomes overwhelmingly, solely, vitally necessary to buy some gel for my heart rate monitor or it won't work. Simply won't function. Go into OCD Heaven and rush from stall to stall interrupting salespeople in deep and highly technical conversation with customers (just about to buy things with mouthwateringly fat margins and little purpose. Like gel for heart rate monitors).
You won't believe this, but there isn't any, or if there is it's hiding cleverly. Close to obsessive despair. Then I stumble across a stall with a banner that says "relieve stiff muscles in 30 seconds. Try our revolutionary massage stick" or something along those lines.
Now the body in reasonably good shape, but for the last few days there has been a niggling stiffness in neck and shoulder on one side. Something (the central governor? Is it also watching the clock?) takes over and HRM gel is suddenly a childish irrelevance. A few seconds later a Scottish lady is wielding this stick with plastic rings on it with great expertise on the relevant area.
Thank her when she's done the whole back, and gently decline her kind offer to do my legs etc. Explain that it would be tricky to buy a stick right then, and promise to consider it when the race over. (Anyone come across these? Didn't get the name. US imports I think)
Make my way slowly back to transition hall, and to our rack spot, AND THERE IS MARK WAITING FOR ME.....
Only joking. I've got about ten minutes to go before his earliest possible arrival time. Lie on the floor doing final stretches, chat to a fellow runner, then remember to ignore him and everything else. Easier said than done, he's a friendly guy.
Cyclists start arriving, sliding about on their highly technical shoes as they dash to their stations, some barefoot. Subtle. Hurried rackings of bikes, transfers of ankle chips, transfers of race numbers and the runners are off. A bunch comes all at once, Mark amongst them, and we go through the same routine, fumbling a little. He wishes me luck and suddenly it's my turn.
Now let's look at this.
First the weather: light cloud, breeze, 22C, conditions near perfect.
The course, as we've said some aeons ago, flat as an armadillo's foot (nearly, a bridge and slope or two). Reasonable surface (some cobbles, mostly tarmac), not too many awkward turns. Above all not crowded, as by this time what started as Laura's bunch has been well separated, seldom that anyone in the way. My iron man friend even says that last year it was 9.8km, not the full ten.
Preparation: gym sessions with David and Rob, running lesson from Gez, osteopathy, psychotherapy, EFT (do you know about EFT? Magic), homeopathy, dentistry, hynotherapy, music therapy, yoga. The genius of Noakes, tips from Scott, Angus, Graham, Mark, many others. Infinite patience from family members, friends, unfortunates minding their own business who've bumped into me in buses, trains, offices; on hills, beaches, aeroplanes.
For the last month no (or almost no) caffeine, alcohol, nicotine, meat, sugar (in anything), processed food, snacks, dairy. No nuts except Brazils, 3 a day. Supplements of fish oil, multivitamins, extra vitamin B, iodine. Bodyfat down to c.16% from c.20.
Training started 84 days ago on 10 May, with an enforced break for 27 days to 27 June, then continued at a pace. Average of 3.76 sessions (run, cycle, gym or swim/surf) weekly including the break, 5.40 excluding it. Total running distance estimated at 223 km, cycling a further 116 km. Not as structured as originally planned, with, in particular, little fast stuff, Fartlek or otherwise. Very little at race pace (wildest dream: 42 mins, 14.29 kph. Previous best 44:35, 13.46 kph in Hyde Park 2006 (30 June, q.v.)).
(OK, that's more than enough. Just stop. Quit. Leave it.)
Summary
As my run began the weather was perfect and preparations complete. By contrast with the young people of Fairbridge, I have been given every possible advantage (other than natural ability): social, financial, educational, motivational, et al. Laura and Mark the perfect companions and have just done an extraordinary swim and cycle.
And above all, an amazing 155 people have given £12,230.00 to Fairbridge to date (and I think it might not be quite over) and that is a huge motivator. Some of you have even been reading this blog.
So if I'm going to do a good one, it's today.
The run goes well, Noakes advice heeded by the central governor. We don't know our times yet, but it seems to be sub-41 mins and the team seems to have done it in just under 2hrs 30. Laura and Mark join me to cross the line.
Silly wave to Allan, 7.5 km in
A drink is next, although I need to run a further 2,230 metres to keep my promise of doing a metre for every £1 you gave. Run next to the cyclists for 3,000 metres or so, ever hopeful that some straggling donors may come in. Join the others, Allan with photos, and Mark's wife Angela with son Luca (creatively pours his water on the Excel floor to make a puddle for paddling in. Boy after my own heart) for a celebratory drink, and then we all go home.
A question for you, to follow in the next (and final?) post...
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