4 months to go....

I woke up this morning with a jolt, partly because of my piercing alarm, but also due to the sudden and rather terrifying realisation that there are now only 4 months until the biggest physical undertaking of my entire life thus far.  That's 16 weeks until tapering kicks in; Civil servants make daily decisions in timeframes longer than that.

Oh. God.

But I'm an athlete now (yes, a real one) so I've just got to get on with it.  A lingering cold is hampering my training but I cannot ignore the fact that with the candles still smoking on the Queen's second birthday cake of 2011, I will be lining up to start 70.3 miles of swimming, cycling and running.

Today is unequivocably about lemsip.  But tomorrow?  Tomorrow is about swimming. And running. And no more chocolate.

To the (VO2) max

Ah January.  The month of tight waistbands, cold mornings and bleak bank balances.  Frankly it's great to see the back of it!  I have also rounded off my least favourite month with a training bang, helping to usher in February with open arms.

Looking forward to the next couple of months before the season begins, it's all starting to come together again after a wayward winter.  My sparkly new turbo trainer is demonic but amazing, and with 5 weeks until my first half-marathon, I've got ample reason to ramp up the running.  An upcoming 9 day training course for the Army Cadets is going to set me back a little, but my colleagues have instructions to make sure I train every morning, no matter how hideous the weather...

Let It Snow...

I can't quite believe that it's been nearly two months since my last post, which says something terrible about my admin... and possibly the start of my winter training!  I could tell that I've been pushing out 8 hours a week, honing and toning myself into the perfect athlete over the winter months, but that would a massive lie.  After the satisfying if slightly uninspiring end to the season, I spent October in 'active rest' mode - taking it easy basically, with intervals sessions in the gym, technique work in the pool, circuits and the odd spin class.    I'd ended the summer with a few niggling injuries, which needed rest and some physio treatment so I was glad to have a horizon free of races in which to take that time out.  Probably the highlight of the month was seeing my first column about my antics in print in Triathlete's World.  I grinned my way down the street whilst reading it, happy with the output and excited to have my thoughts published. 

Things have been perking up in November though, as my second and third columns have been submitted for print in January and March issues respectively and proper training is slowly but surely resuming.  Last weekend I spontaneously took part in the Elan Valley 10, a hilly road race covering 10 miles of Welsh countryside.  I say spontaneously as I hadn't actually registered for the race - my husband was taking part and I went along to support him, with the plan of running to the 3 mile marker and back whilst he competed... Needless to say, at the 3 mile point the sweep vehicle I was intentionally keeping behind suggested I run ahead, so I did!  At 4 miles I turned back, but 'you're practically there now...' encouraged the sweep vehicle marshall, so I kept on running much like Forest Gump.  I overtook 14 competitors, which I'm pretty thrilled about considering I started 10 minutes after they set off, and sprinted over the finish line in about 1hr 35mins pretty damn pleased with myself.   Since then, I've felt a lot more motivated, and my running and swimming is tripping along well.

As the snow starts to fall in Wales, my plans for long weekend bike rides seem out of the picture, but longer gym sessions here I come.  At this stage, the bike is the bit I'm worried about, especially after my Olympic race in September, and so I'm just trying to keep the general fitness progressing and my leg strength improving with hill intervals on the static bike, in the hope that some dry, non-treacherously icy days coincide with non-working hours.  A ski holiday and the festive season approach, but I'm determined to keep training going if not too weighed down by turkey, bread sauce and roast potatoes... ooh and the little pigs in blankets... and smoked salmon... and roast gammon on Boxing Day... and mulled wine, not to mention the advent calendar chocolates...... oh dear, this could go pear-shaped.  I'll keep you posted, if I can move my fingers enough to type after all that food.

Oh the weather outside is frightful

Well, it's been a month since my last blog post and the tri season for 2010 has come to a close.  Despite a trapped nerve in my shoulder and not enough training due to my Masters dissertation (got to love my priorities there), I completed my Olympic distance race on 26th September... and came last!  Not only did I come last in my race but I was the final one over the finishing line for the whole day! The organisers ran the sprint and super-sprints within the Olympic distance so we were all cycling together.  Or rather, it tripled the field of people who could overtake me on the bike.  But hey, it's about completion and personal achievement and I am satisfied with the knowledge that I ran the whole 10K and my swim and run splits weren't too bad. A good day to be proud of.

The winter training season thus begins and I'm pretty excited.  My local leisure centre has a fantastic gym and the team there are really supportive.  Made up of runners, duathlon racers for GB and the generally uber-fit, I've already been given a handful of excellent tips for the coming months and that was just at my induction!
Bike fitness, speed and endurance will be the fundamental goal, whilst maintaining (and hopefully also improving) good swim and run techniques.  I don't plan to come last a second time.  My tri suit has been emblazoned with 'Racing for Combat Stress' across the back (thanks to PSM Sportswear) and my Excel training log has been designed for the next 4 week block.  Time to get on with it then!  I'll keep you posted

Harnessing the adrenaline

Over the last five days I have achieved a great deal and also been incredibly scared; what I find interesting though is that the same hormones will have been produced - predominantly adrenaline but also cortisol - in all instances.  On Saturday we went for a hilly bike ride, climbing a steady 550m in 6 six miles, but then of course having to descend the same on the other side!  Descents are not my strong point, in fact they couldn't really be much weaker.  My child-sized hands find it almost impossible to reach the brakes whilst on the hoods of my bike, yet I'll be damned if I'm going to lean forward on a steep downhill to sit on the drops, so that my fingertips can strain to sufficiently stop my bike whilst I pick up speeds akin to light and sound.  And I'm scared of heights (or rather falling), and there were all manner of cars on the road, surely ready to mow me down as I hurtle downwards and around tight bends.  No thank you.  And so, after three patient attempts by my long-suffering husband to convince me to try it again after 50m of effectively braking down the road, he gave up cajoling his shaking wife to get back onto her bike, and instead cycled behind her as she ran downhill with bike in hand.  Well, it's cross-training isn't it?  I admit I find it overwhelmingly terrifying that I cannot stop, nor suitably slow my bike and have visions instead of head-on collisions with baby rabbits.  I know that I need to conquer this consuming fear - and that throwing myself into a hedge if it all gets too fast does not a backup plan make - but I think I'll practise on some slightly shorter, gentle hills for now with some solid hedgerow to my left.

The beginning of this week in stark contrast, has been one of Personal Bests; on Monday I smashed my 7.5km training tempo run, which has a gruelling 25% hill to climb in the middle, by 5 minutes, and last night I achieved an 100m split in the pool in 1:35!  After both sessions I encountered much the same sensations as those experienced when wobbling downhill on Saturday - heart racing, body shaking, energy levels pumped for flight, combined with 'I want to lie down now and eat ice-cream' (that last one must be the cortisol).  It seems funny that two such extreme feelings can mechanically be so similar.  I suppose that my body can't tell the difference between me pushing myself to run or swim faster for fun, and the sheer fear I feel when going down long hills; in both instances it is activating my fight-or-flight response, a built-in system to boost the body when under threat from predators.  There's a thought... maybe I should get someone to chase me during my training sessions.  A fool-proof plan.  Nothing is going to get me down those hills (or achieve new PBs) faster than being tracked down by someone terrifying.  Tony Blair perhaps, or my GCSE Spanish teacher with her glass eye.  So if you happen to be in my part of the world, and see someone careering down a road being chased by a mad woman shouting 'Donde esta tu tarea?', fear not, it's just me harnessing my adrenaline.

Otterly exhilarating

What a high!  Last night's swim session with my triathlon club resulted in some serious progress, which was (and still is) incredibly exhilarating!  The simple instruction from one of the coaches to alter my arm position for greater reach and paddle-like movement has revolutionised my technique.  I was reaching speeds I never thought possible, snapping on the toes of lane members as I caught them up - I even lapped someone!  I can now imagine what it must be like to be a dolphin, gliding through the water, sleekly, elegantly... in my case my husband has decided I'm more of an otter.  This morning I had to Google an otter to recall its features - brown, whiskery, with short furry limbs.  Hmm.

I have not, however, let such unsatisfactory mammal comparisons dampen my day-dreams of being spotted by talent coaches, to be drafted in as a late entry for the 2012 Olympic swim team.  This is but a matter of time.  But until then, I cannot wait to get back in the pool and try out my new found skills again, to make sure it wasn't just a bit of luck.  Little moments like this are part of the reason that sport is so addictive and triathlon so satisfying - you have three disciplines to improve in, giving you much better odds.  Now I just need to make a similar breakthrough in my cycling, if only to stop being lapped by smug men on mountain bikes.

(And sorry about the title pun - I'm still chuckling to myself about it.)

Faking it

I must admit to feeling rather flattered, and just a tinsy bit smug, after this weekend's exploits.  It's been a while since I've written - life (read: work) has been getting in the way of training in a most unsatisfactory way way over the last few weeks - and I was starting to feel a little bit like a triathlete fraud.  Managing only 6 hours of training a week recently, with races of increasing distances looming, the panic of hundreds of spectators finding me out for the beginner that I am has been rising.  And where exactly have my toned triceps gone?  They were most definitely here a fortnight ago.  Last week, mostly to get out of DIY chores and a paint-fume filled flat, I pounded the pavements, did my obligatory evil press ups (even managed some sit ups) and wriggled into my wetsuit not once, nor twice but thrice!

At 6am (yes dawn had only just broken) last Saturday, I was descending the ladder into a cold but peaceful lake at Liquid Leisure and feeling pretty darn pleased with myself.  Most people, my husband included, were still asleep!  With a spring in my step I added two running laps of the lake to my swim and felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment as I staggered back to my car.  I love this sport - it's exhilarating, healthy, friendly and there's something about wearing a wetsuit that makes you feel like a pro (even if most people warm up on the distance you strive to complete!).

To further boost my mood, a lovely couple I met later on that day at a wedding referred to me as a triathlete!  Really?  Me?  It would appear the process of faking it is now complete, and I actually might be a bona-fide, pinch-me-and-its-still-true triathlete, who gets a kick of out fitting in two sessions a day, or starting the morning at 5.30am to clock up some additional wetsuit miles.  I am tempering my bouncing enthusiasm with the knowledge that my upcoming Olympic distance (less than 6 weeks away) is probably going to break me, not to mention next year's ridiculousness, but I feel a renewed vigour for meeting that pain train head on and seeing who comes out on top. 

This Saturday will offer the latest race opportunity for me to test out my new theory, although I'm not buying into the American nonsense of 'everyone's a winner'... maybe everyone can be a winner except for the poor soul who comes last.  No one, least of all me, wants to come last thank you very much.