New Year's Day Triathlon 1/1/06
TRIATHLON TOTTIE
This was the third time I have done the New Years Day Triathlon and I was beginning to think that what had seemed a good idea in September was not such a brilliant plan in the cold light of Jan 1st!! Karen, Janis and I had decided after the Jedburgh half to get into Tri training, this consisted of throwing ourselves on bikes round Arthurs seat (often being blown backwards by the wind) running up and down hills with legs that wouldn't let us go
forwards and dunking ourselves in the clammy waters of the Commonwealth pool every Saturday morning. Karen's husband Alan had also entered this years event but mysteriously didn't appear at our training sessions, probably embarrassed by our carryings on!
I was very annoyed when I woke up on the 1st still feeling ropey with a Christmas cold so all that training probably wasn't going to do me much good. David cycled to the pool with me, he was on childcare duties for Karen and Alan's boys, although I think they thought they were looking after him! This came about as last year Alan declared it would be easier doing the tri than looking after the boys!! But they were very good had a great time playing football, talking football and eating chips.
Once I got to the Commie Pool and all my pals were there I felt better and we sorted ourselves out and went down to the pool to start our swim heats. The swim was always a bit terrifying for me but I have had lessons this year and Karen, Janis and Cath (who was supporting us this year) had been my inspiration for sticking with the swim training. I was pleased to take 2 minutes off last years time. The first transition is always a bit sticky!! Trying to pull on leggings and top on over a wet cozzie is not funny, well it is to any onlooker. Apparently the Edinburgh Triathletes have transition training sessions! Wonder if they can transform me into Nell McAndrew?! Unfortunately the transition time is added onto your swim time as the chip mats are by the bikes so by the time I had faffed about making sure I was warm and putting the lippy on I reckon my transition time was about 3 mins! Anyway onto the bike and into Arthurs Seat; fantastic day, sunny, no wind and mild. The crowds were great and I had a very sociable cycle spotting many friends on the course wanting to stop and chat but reminding myself I was supposed to be in a race. My gear changing left a lot to be desired and so at the bottom roundabout (in front of the biggest crowd) my chain came off I managed not to panic got it on again and was engouraged on by David yelling 'on yer bike' By the time I was on my last circuit it was getting a bit hairy with lots of bikes jostling for position. The bike to run section is harder than you think with misbehaving legs and energy levels running down. However with much encouragement, jelly babies and Chris chumming me up the hill I made it. Staggering over the finish line I fell into David's arms in a sweaty heap (most attractive but I think he was pleased to see I hadn't keeled over) and recovered remarkably quickly with the help of Janis's pea soup and champagne. Then on to party like it was 2006! Karen, Janis, Alan and I all came in within minutes of each other.
Thank you to my inspiring and funny friends Karen, Janis and Cath for making life interesting. Thanks to David for his support even though he thinks I'm off my head sometimes. Thanks to everyone out on the course cheering and encouraging.
Well done to Edinburgh Triathletes and the Bike Coop for organising a well run event.
Report Lynn Hanley
Full results HERE
Chris tops up Karen's intravenous hangover cure.Here is the day from Alan's perspective...
OK, let’s get things straight from the start: I don’t do triathlons. I like a wee swim every now and then, I enjoy a few miles on the bike (preferably on a warm summer’s day) and ordinarily I don’t do running unless there’s a ball involved. So it’s a surprise, even to myself, that I’m pulling on a lilac swimming cap while doing my best to hold my stomach in and not look too out of place amongst the chattering hordes standing in line by the pool and eagerly awaiting their turn.
Of course, I’ve watched it all from the sidelines on the three previous occasions that my wife, Karen has taken part but somehow my glib affirmative to a tongue in cheek challenge way back in September has landed me in this alien place surrounded by hundreds of differently coloured baldies who are either pummelling the air in preparation for the challenge ahead or stretching muscles I never knew I had.
Today, for one day only folks, I’m competitor number 125. I’ve got the wristband, the ankle chip and two big pin-on numbers to prove it. The ‘elites’ have gone. In and out the water before they’d even got wet and one by one, it’s getting nearer my turn. As my friends and family wish me good luck (the kids are being chaperoned by the very understanding Dave Hanley) I’m suddenly encouraged by the sight of some of my fellow competitors flapping about in the pool like cats in a bath. If they can do it …
… three, two, one go …
I’ve gone off too fast. I can see the bubbles from the boy ahead already. I knew those ginger eyebrows would hold him back in the water. I knew that woman behind had put down the wrong time too because there she is swimming over me already. God, I can’t breathe. One, two, three, gasp! Blow, two, three, gasp when do these lengths ever end? After 100m crawl, I revert to the breast stroke. And somehow, after nine and a half minutes of underwater hell I’m preparing my exit. I confess here that this was the bit of my pre-event training that I concentrated on the most. Having previously seen Janis Stirton shoot out the pool like a seal on a greasy tarpaulin , I knew my children were waiting with baited breath. Would these jelly arms be enough to haul my post-Christmas carcass out of the water and onto the side?
I’m out. In one. Like that epic moment from Free Willy I’m clear of the water and heading for the exit without even a glance over my shoulder to take the ecstatic applause from the crowd. And now I can’t get my t-shirt on. Oh come on, come on. It’s all crumpled up my back. Three minutes to get dressed, mind, that’s a record for me.
Now I’m clanging up the stairs to retrieve my bike and hit the road. Of all the bits, this was the one I was looking forward to the most. I’d been round the hill about four times in total during ‘the training’ but never more than two laps at any one time. Three would be a stern test but Karen has given me her road bike so at least I would have enough gears.
And off I go – boy, that seat’s hard and my legs are all wet and stingy. I like the bike. I would even say I’m enjoying it. There are folks all round the course that I know too – The Murrays just after the first roundabout, my kids now playing football with Dave and an assortment of friends waving near the palace. Hey this is fun. Until I turn the corner to start the first climb. This bit, I know is horrible, the way it snakes upwards and just keeps going. ‘Dig in, dig in!’ comes a voice from the pavement. I’m digging for Jesus, isn’t it obvious from my pained expression? Eventually the hill gives way to a bit of flat road and, as I change down the gears, I note that amazingly I’m still alive. True, I’ve been passed by a great big wummin who made her mountain bike look like a Raleigh 20 and about fifty people who started behind me but I managed to burn off the lady with the tinsel tassels on her handlebars so I’m feeling confident for the next two laps.
On the second lap I creaked and groaned up the hill in the wrong gear but all in all, I felt OK got round in a reasonable 51 minutes and 40 seconds and felt like I could have gone round again – which of course, I had to do but this time it was the bit I’d really been dreading: the run.
And no wonder. I don’t do running. I have fat legs, dodgy knees and bad ankles – why would I run? To make matters worse, following my stint on the bike my legs have a curious distant feeling, like they’ve been mysteriously amputated and I’m imagining what it was like when they used to be there. My stomach hurts too from navel to chest. Perhaps the toast and fried mushrooms were a bad idea. But there’s Sean with my honey stinger – a sweet source of instant energy for the endurance athlete in the thick of competition. I don’t do honey either but I sook it from time to time on the way round to take my mind off the ghastliness of it all.
The climb was hideous – though the assistance of Chris Melville certainly contributed to my overall time of just 37 minutes or so. I even enjoyed the bit at the end, running into the blinding sun with the cheers ringing in my ears. And then, mercifully, it was all over. I’m a tri-athlete now, allegedly.
Once everyone was in and showered the inevitable question arose: ‘Gonna do it again next year then?’ I choke back a laugh. ‘Eh, no.’ But then again, I’ve got a time to beat …
guest reporter Alan Munro
