9th July 2023….the day I became a middle distance triathlete. And there were tears, lots of tears.
Settle in for this great race report from Donna Adlard after her first ever Middle Distance Triathlon at the 113 Events Cotswold Classic. It’s rare that we see such body shaking nerves at the start, tears of all kinds and totally unbridled joy at the end of a race. Get a cuppa for this one and get comfy.
It’s fair to say the preparation and the build up before the race was far from perfect. Having never even done an Olympic distance tri before, I decided it would be a good idea to enter my first Olympic just 2 weeks before my first middle distance. Made perfect sense to me.
Training on the bike had been going well and I had been doing more than my fair share of open water swimming, trying to build distance and
settle the nerves as well as my fear of open water. The thing I was struggling with was my running. After having a bad fall 2 years ago I’ve really suffered with hip pain. Numerous physio and chiropractor sessions had done nothing to sort the problem and I was trying to manage the pain with paracetamol and ibuprofen whilst waiting for an appointment for an MRI. Short runs were bearable but anything over 5-6 miles I really struggled with and so had only done 3 long runs, struggling to walk at the end of each one.
At the Alderford Olympic distance the swim was short, only 0.6 miles. The conditions were perfect and it went really well. The bike was also good. The 6.5 mile run however nearly finished me off. I’m not sure whether it was the heat and humidity, my lack of running, the pain in my hip or the fact that I had finished antibiotics that morning for an ear infection, but regardless, it was horrendous. I finished but couldn’t stop thinking about the bigger picture. I was doing twice the distance in 2 weeks time!
A holiday to Turkey the day after Alderford allowed me to get some more swim practice and I felt my confidence growing. I also managed a couple of short runs. Turkey gave me a chance to relax but unfortunately it also gave me a nasty stomach bug and I couldn’t keep any food in my stomach for 6 days. I lost 5lb in weight and only fully recovered 3 days before my big race. Not ideal prep but what can you do. It was around this point that I started to feel the weight of what I was expecting my body to do. Surely it was too much to ask??
Race day arrived. The 4am alarm didn’t come as a surprise because I hadn’t managed to sleep much anyway. The night before Jon had helped me to tape up my good hip as well as my sore hip as during long runs the good hip was painful too. I think it was compensating for the change in running style due to my bad hip. My left shoulder was also taped up due to pain from all of the extra swimming and when I looked in the mirror I resembled an Egyptian Mummy! Again I questioned whether it was even possible for me to do this and whether I had lost my mind.
I can’t talk on race day as the nerves take over me. I had tried in vain to go to the toilet but it simply wasn’t happening…..until we got to transition where I thought I wasn’t actually going to make it to the portaloos in time. It was a short lived relief as I needed to go again almost immediately after so back in the queue I went.
Ablutions sorted, bike racked and kit ready, we made our way down to the lake. I swapped my orange event hat for a green hat which indicated
that I was a nervous swimmer. I had a dip in the lake to acclimatise and was relieved to feel that the water was warm. I looked out over the course and it looked huge, one lap of a massive lake. The nerves I has tried to squash took over me. My body started to shake involuntary and I could feel the tears threatening to start. Jon could see it too and hugged me. A random lady saw me shaking and asked if I was cold and I blurted out that I was nervous and before I could stop them, the tears started. How the hell was I going to do this?
The entry into the water went smoothly. One person every 3 seconds ensured I had a bit of space around me and I began to swim. I was doing the front crawl and don’t think I managed to put my face in the water and breathe until around the second yellow buoy. My breathing was too rapid and ragged and I had to calm down and get it under control before I could even think about breathing out in the water, so I swam with my head out until I felt more comfortable. I just focused on the next buoy and distracted myself from what I was actually doing by looking at the rocks and ‘coral’ on the bottom of the lake bed. Another yellow buoy done followed by a right turn at the pink triangle. Two more yellow buoys and then there it was, I could see the swim exit. I stayed focused and before I knew it I was reaching out to grab the outstretched arms waiting to help pull me out.
My face must have been a picture because the man kept saying to me ‘it’s okay, you’ve done it’ He unfastened the Velcro and pulled down the zip on my wetsuit for me and I began shakily to make my way to transition. Through very bleary tear filled eyes I could make out the black and orange colours and hear the shouts from our group cheering me on and I felt the emotion and anxiety pour out of me as I slowly relaxed and made my way to where my bike was racked. I took my time in transition, drying my feet, putting on my gloves and gilet as well as taking 2 co-codamol for the hip pain that I knew was sure to follow. I was going to take them before the swim but my Dad had made me promise that I wouldn’t because a possible side effect was drowsiness and he was worried I would fall asleep and drown in the lake. Yes I know, but hey, a promise is a promise 😂
The bike passed without any drama. An undulating route consisting of 2 laps of 28 miles. I had one short stop to open a flap Jack that I just
couldn’t get the wrapper off and another stop at 50 miles when I saw a sign for the village hall indicating that there was a bike mechanic and toilets. I had needed to use the loo since I got out of the water and knew I couldn’t run without going first, so the idea of a nice clean toilet in a village hall as opposed to enduring a visit to the race portaloos again was more than welcoming. Seeing the sea of orange and black and hearing the cheers once again as I turned to start the second lap really affected me and for the umpteenth time that day, I felt myself get a bit emotional. After the loo stop my legs were feeling a bit tired but an empty bladder and only 6 miles to go spurred me on. It was around this point that I actually started to think to myself that maybe I did actually have it in me to do this.
Second transition over, plenty of fluids consumed and another gel devoured, I made my way out on to the run. In my head was the thought that nothing out of my control could happen now. No punctures, bike mechanics etc, the only thing stopping me from finishing this race now would be me and I had come too far to let that happen. I knew that even if I had to walk the whole 13 miles, I was going to finish that race. The pain in my hip reared it’s ugly head almost immediately into the run. For the most part it was a dull ache accompanied by a sharp pain with each heel strike. I ran for as long as I could until I needed to walk it out and continued to use this strategy the whole way round. When I was running I was trying to run fast to offset the slow pace of the walks. I was counting down the miles in my head, 1 down 12 to go, 2 down 11 to go etc. It didn’t seem to take too long before the miles covered were greater than what I had to go. With each lap I was lifted yet again by running through the club supporters. About to start my final lap I saw Jon shouting and waving to me. A quick hug and a kiss and a glance at the huge medal around his neck was all I needed to get me round that last lap. It went much slower than the first two and the heavens opened half way round. It was actually refreshing to run in the rain, a nice break from the hot sun from earlier. A bit of slipping and sliding on the muddy trails and before I knew it I was coming into the finish. The screams from the club supporters were deafening and I don’t know where I found the energy from but managed to sprint past a lady. With a huge grin on my face and arms waving wildly in the air I crossed the finish line. I had completed my first 70.3!
I was a middle distance triathlete.
The celebrations at the end are all a bit of a blur. I remember being bent over at the finish line looking at the floor
when I recognised Jon’s feet standing in front of me. The sight of his smiling face was enough to immediately start the tears once again. I remember Karen joining us and for a few seconds the three of us stood there hugging each other and crying before joining the rest of the group.
I don’t know of any other club that supports and cares about its members as much as we do. We are all a part of each other’s journeys and are there to celebrate and support each other along the way. I’m so proud to be a part of this.
