I have finally ran my 50th Parkrun. I am ecstatic about this! 50 times I have now run 5km and had my bar code scanned. 49 of them in Perth and 1 very special one in Weymouth. Should probably do a spot more parkrun tourism actually.
It means something to me because it was a goal I had set. Get to 50. Yes, I sadly wanted that magic emblem next to my name on the results. Did I do it for the free t-shirt? No. I’m not daft. I know they are in short supply. I genuinely did it because when I had ran 10 I thought I would get one then. Turns out that’s just for the kids! (Even though I am the height of an 8 year old but the Run Director was having none of it). So 50 it had to be.
I chose to run my elusive number 50 with Lorner. She has now volunteered 25 times with her son Matthew at parkrun.
Yes. I know. That is much more impressive than me running it a few times. Kudos to the both of them. Especially for that one Saturday she managed to drag herself out of bed and in to the cold and pouring rain when I was still dying in bed from the prossecco she had forced me to drink the night before.
I didn’t race round, I wanted just a gentle run. I had The Tay Ten the next day which I wanted to keep something back for. Instead I chose to ‘encourage’ Lorner round the course by filming her and taking photos whilst we ran. She may have said she hated it but I know she loved it. And she didn’t really want to shove my phone ‘there’.
At least I hope not.
Now that I have hit my goal it means I no longer ‘own’ Saturday mornings. This could be an issue. When you have a husband and wife who are both training for events and add three children to the mix, time becomes very precious.
Lets just be honest. It can be a war zone in my house. And the fact I used ‘but this is my 50th – that’s my goal’ in the most whiniest of voices to ensure I could run last Saturday only puts me in a worse situation to continue to have Saturday mornings. Compromise is going to have to be made.
On his side obviously, not mine.
This weekend it is Manchester Marathon though so neither of us are doing anything Saturday morning other than sitting in the car for hours. Probably with me annoying him with my singing if past road trips are anything to go by.
How many times can you listen to The Greatest Showman on a 5 hour journey?
I will let you know next week.
When the other half suggests we both do a race my trainers are on before he’s finished speaking.
Well. Let me tell you. What a sorry lesson I’ve learned from that!
One of his customers had told him about a hill race near where he lived. 2 days before Christmas. Im still doing Marcothon so thought I could do that as part of it.
Stupidly thought. Very stupidly thought.
It was a Saturday morning so the choice was between that and Parkrun. I chose to mix it up and go for the hill race. Why not?
It was less than half an hour away and when I looked it up on the morning of the race it was your typical small field of runners. All the feedback on it was positive so how bad could it be. There was a bag check at registration and it was a short walk to the start.
At the start I bumped into Chris who I’ve met at a couple of other races. He pointed out a bit to save energy for (Scotland’s famous for ‘fake tops) and said he ran it last year in about 55mins.
It’s 4 miles. Oh right. I know it’s a hill race but what goes up comes down doesn’t it? And usually much faster?
Joe saw a few people he knew as well including an older woman from his tri club and the guy who had suggested the race.
Off we went and I stuck close to the back. The Hill Series with Perth Road Runners taught me enough to know I’m a finisher and nothing more. Usually in the last 10 as well. God loves a trier though.
Flat but bumpy under foot to begin with then a bit of mud then BAM.
And it didn’t stop.
‘It’s ok’ I told myself. ‘There’s always a flat bit somewhere’. Nope! Not at this race.
This was my 23rd day of running at least 3 miles a day on the trot. This was beginning to hurt.
Just a few steps later – yup, this really hurts.
I was beginning to wonder if I should stop. Turn round and finish my miles near the car where it was flat whilst waiting for Joe to finish. I looked at my watch.
0.6 miles!! Are you kidding me?? That’s all?!? Oh Ella maybe you really should stop. This isn’t a healthy kind of pain.
It must end soon though surely? There’s always a little flat but to recover on.
Not in this race.
The first mile eventually clicked by. 20 minutes after starting. Just don’t say anything. You don’t need to.
After 7 days and nights on the side of this hill I reached the Marshall at the top pointing me to the right. I tried to run but my legs had gone back to the car so it was more of a bambi walk than anything. At 1.45 miles the lead runner came past me. I hadn’t even made it half way yet. Joe wasn’t too far behind the lead pack and I could tell he was thinking the same as me. What the actual f@ck were we playing at?
Down the treacherous path of rocks and mud and I slipped and slide my way past Chris and a few others (all heading back of course). I got down to the ‘big rock’ and went round it, moaning as usual to the marshalls – ‘oh my god why am I doing this!’.
Now I was heading back up and I could see there were only a handful of people behind me. The thought crossed my mind I could be finishing last. I didn’t like this. Last race of the year and there was a high probability I was going to be last.
Back across the top and it was down the vertical drop we had come up. Ah, now I can make some time back and hopefully scrape back a few places.
Nope!! Not doing that. I will take my time thank you very much! What a stupid bloody thing to do when you’ve an Ultra to train for you stupid woman!! This is just a ‘fun’ race for you! Take your time idiot!
I went over my ankle at 3 miles and did that whole ‘oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, keep running, keep going, does it hurt? I don’t know! Ok just keep running. Nope, it’s ok. Phew’.
Every runners done that. Be honest.
I eventually came off the side of the mountain (yes it was a mountain) and hit the flat section. Finally. But my legs were jelly. Actual jelly. I could have been a cowboy. After a few strides they settled down and I pushed on knowing the finish was close. I could see someone in front of me but I didn’t have time to catch him.
I crossed the line and promptly told the other half we were doing Parkrun next year and not this race. Nope. No sir. Not me. No hills thank you. 1hr 7 it took me. To do 4 miles!
To say I’m in pain today does not cut it. I’ve been in better shape after running a marathon than I am today. In fact, I was better after the ultra! Leg days in the gym ain’t got nothing on a hill race! And I had to run today!! Marcothon is going to be the death of me.
When all is said and very sore it’s a greatly run race. Very friendly, fantastic spread, great marshalls. The only problem is the elevation ha ha. Almost 1000 feet in the first mile. I mean seriously, who enjoys that? (Not me, definitely not me).
Now. I'm a road runner. I run on roads. I occasionally do trails but not very often. I have to be dragged kicking and screaming to do hills and track isn't much better. So initially, when the Splash N Dash race was announced, I didn't think twice about giving it the body swerve.
Run along a beach – that's sand, not tarmac – then into the sea – again water, not tarmac – then do it again for a second loop.
Not on your nelly.
But then a few people were talking about it and we had had a couple of good days weather wise (which for Scotland means the wind was gusty not hurricane, and the rain was showers not monsoon). So I signed both of us up. Yup, Mr W was going to do it too.
Let's be clear here though. The only reason I asked him to was because we now have this agreement we have to consult the other before signing up to a race and he only said yes because he had just bought a TT bike!
Marriage at its best.
Naturally, day of the race, it was pouring. It was windy, it was cold, it was wet. And that was before we were running. I hadn't even checked the distance either so I couldn't estimate how long I would be out there. I had opted for my 3 quarter lengths instead of shorts given the weather and a buff round my neck which I very quickly fanned out and put round my head to try and keep 'some' warmth in. If someone had asked me if I was in remission I couldn't have blamed them. However I was that cold I didn't care what I looked like.
Joe had decided not to run. Gave some utter cock and bull story about not wanting to ask my mum to babysit – personally I think he felt it was too cold. (He's not a runner, let's be honest). So he sat in the warm van the entire time.
As I stood in line to get my bib there was a lot of chat about the waves. One runner who had done it last year kindly demonstrated how deep we would be going.
She pointed at the tops of her legs. The TOP of her legs!!
I'm going to need arm bands!! What the hell?!?
Then someone said they had decided to move the race from September to July in the hope of getting better weather.
Someone was most definitely taking the mickey.
There were quite a few road runners there and we huddled together to try and keep warm. Didn't work. I was grumpy. I was miserable. I just wanted it over and done with. All this way for what I found out to be 4 lousy miles on terrain I detested. There was a reason I didn't do races like these.
The organisers didn't want to keep us so started us of quickly. What I hadn't thought about was the spray from the person in front – literally like someone throwing sand in my eyes. Great! I tried to shelter behind people but the choice was the wind and rain or sand in your eyes. That's not always an easy decision.
I didn't check my watch at all as I didn't care an ounce what speed I was running. I knew it had to be about 2 miles ish out to the pirate flag and then we turned back. You couldn't see the flag for the mist but as soon as I was close the fast runners were going by in the opposite direction. 'It's a lot easier going this way' shouted Stewart. And sure enough, as soon as I turned, the wind lifted me up and pushed me forward. Thank god I wasn't wearing a skirt! Not long after we were in to the water just a little bit and that was fine. 'I can handle this' I thought. Along the beach we went and yes, I confess, at one point, I pretended I was a lifeguard on baywatch and The Rock and Zac Efron were at the finish line.
I ran my fastest split at that point.
Further in to the water we went now and it was that deep you couldn't run. I braced myself for the 'freeze' but it never came. Instead I found myself laughing and trying to do some kind of gallop through the sea.
Was I actually enjoying this race? Hell yeah! Weather was awful, couldn't really see but it was fun. Hadn't expected that!
Back round for the second lap and I found I was lapping a handful of runners. There were some who weren't as fast as others but my god their determination was strong! They were finishing no matter what!
A couple of the marshalls had water guns but to be honest, because of the rain, it didn't make any difference. It was still funny though to be squirted at as you ran by. They must have been freezing but the weather wasn't dampening their spirits.
Across the finish line and I made a speedy exit to the van with heated seats. I had been wise and brought a full change of clothes. Plus a towel to try to cover my modesty but the wind was having none of that either.
As usual, the lovely Gordon Donnachie was there to take beautiful pictures of us. I think I should get mine blown up and framed, what do you think?
I thought I was going to hate this race but I really found it fun! My legs felt so good after being in the water it was amazing. I would definitely recommend it – in rain or sun ha ha.
So….. yesterday. Yesterday was the next instalment in the hill series that I’m just ‘loving’ (if loving actually means hating with all your might and would rather be watching paint dry that is).
The difference with this one though is that I’ve ran it before – twice! And whilst it’s got its steep as hell climbs, it’s also got flat sections you can recover on (well, as much as you can during a race). It is however longer than all the other races, and it definitely makes you work for that medal. Bonus on this run though is that my other half was actually sponsoring it, he had designed the finisher t-shirt and was volunteering.
There were quite a few Perth Road Runners volunteering also and many were marshalls round the course so there was lots of encouragement.
It was meant to be a long run day so I decided to run to the event and run back. The youngest had other ideas though. He gets a bit of separation anxiety from time to time so when I tried to drop him off he wasn’t all for it. I know he’s fine within minutes of me leaving but when you don’t really need to leave straight away (because I could drive there) I find it more difficult to go. In the end I managed to run 3 miles before my dad came along, picked me up and dropped me at the start. 3 miles was better than nothing and as expected my mum had text me before I had even hit a mile to say Ollie (my son) was playing happily.
Frazer – my original running buddy – was also running this race and his girlfriend Kirsty and daughter Jessica had come along too, as well as their dog Ruby.
We were called to the start line about 10 minutes before the scheduled start. Although I knew I would be passed I still went near the front as it was an instant climb and I didn’t want stuck behind someone or forced out the way. This wasn’t a race I would be happy to just finish. I wanted to improve last years time.
I looked around and Sonjia, Stewart, Mark, Dave and Ronnie were in front of me. Hmmm. No Heledd. Where was Heledd? I tapped Stewart on the shoulder. ‘Have you seen Heledd?’ ‘No’ he replied. Then a glint in his eye. ‘Does this mean?’
‘I don’t know, I was sure she was coming though’.
Then Sonjia turned round. ‘Heledd’s not here’.
She had the same grin as me.
‘Check you girls out all competitive!’
‘Not at all! Just friendly banter! But if she’s not here, more points for me’ I laughed.
Facts are facts, both Heledd and Sonjia are faster than me so yes, the only way I could ‘win’ was if Heledd wasn’t running. Then I would be the only female that did all 6 Hill Races and the nightmare that was Birnam Hill (the first hill race) will most definitely have been worth it. Sort of. Maybe.
‘Oh hi Heledd’.
Aw no, she was at the registration tent. Game over.
She snuck to the back a little embarrassed that it looked like we were waiting for her but it wasn’t 11’o’clock so she wasn’t technically late. ‘You’ve still got a good few metres on her’ Stewart said. ‘I’m going to need it, and much more!’ was my reply.
Off we went and up the zig zag hill that is right at the start. Not even a few metres to turn the legs over, you’re going straight up. I saw Kirsty at the top corner and a few steps passed her I heard ‘oh no, Ella’s already gone past’. I think she was taking my mums place in the ‘missing the moment’ gallery ha ha. I gave her a wave to say I had heard her though.
First mile down and I chose not to look at my watch, there’s no point in Hill races. I knew Heledd must be right on my heels and right enough, at 1.35 miles in I heard the ‘Hi Ella’. ‘Hey’ I managed to gasp back. She looked a bit white, not her usual self. I wanted to ask if she was ok but I couldn’t gasp that out. I passed her just a few minutes on which surprised me as I don’t think I’ve ever done that so tried to take advantage and not slow down until she had passed me again.
Around 2 miles and there was a woman at the side with a hurt ankle. I asked if she was ok and told her friend I would let the next Marshall know. He ran on but kept looking back wondering if he should have stayed with her.
3 miles in and past the water station. I didn’t take any as Heledd still hadn’t passed me and I knew the second I stopped or slowed down she would fly right by. I also knew the worst Hill was coming and I would have to walk/stumble up it. One of the Road Runners was the Marshall at the bottom of it and I had to ask her why she wasn’t running it. She just looked at the hill and we both we knew she had made the smarter decision, not me! All the way up I was just waiting for Heledd to go past. I’ve spent enough time behind her at these races to know she could most likely run this bit! When she didn’t pass me here I knew she wasn’t 100%. Hoping it was more a case of she was ill and not a case she was hurt I kept on.
Back up yet another hill and this one was one we had come down. The Marshall – Sylvia I think it was – tried to be encouraging by saying something like it was the last hill, or it wasn’t far. It’s quite hard to remember as I was so close to death through lack of oxygen. I did manage a reply of ‘if I had the energy I would kill you for lying’ – she knows the route, she knows the truth ha ha.
As soon as I hit the ‘top’ and knew it was more down hill then up I kept at it. Mile 5 and I did something I never do during races – I started to look behind me. Yes I was trying to see if she was on my heels. It kept pushing me forward though as every time I turned round I expected her to be right at my shoulder. I knew where the final uphill was and pushed myself up it. Then down it went. Past Eleanor another road runner at a Marshall point with her daughter, cheering away, still pushing on.
She’s going to get me, she’s going to get me. This is going to be like the hills on Thursday when Mark lapped me right at the finish line! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.
I hit the zig zags and saw Kirsty again. She started to run with me down them. I found this hilarious and tried to shout ‘are you challenging me?’ but all my energy was going in to not being overtaken at the end. I had also calculated that if there was a team prize I may have been third female PRR as Marlena was between Sonjia and myself! (There wasn’t a team prize but still, it was a nice thought!).
I turned the last corner and I heard footsteps. NO!!!! I was NOT giving this one up!! Unable to breath I somehow moved my legs faster. Who ever this was was not getting past me!!
It’s ok, they didn’t!
Across the line and a few very deep breaths later I went and collected my medal. I saw Stewart and yes, I admit, my first words were ‘I beat Heledd!’ however this was very quickly followed by ‘but I don’t think she’s feeling very well, she’s not having a great race’. I saw Kevin her partner and went over to speak to him. He confirmed it, she wasn’t very well. I felt really bad. She came in just a couple of minutes behind me. It’s all friendly competitiveness but I did feel bad for her. She obviously wasn’t on top form or she would have wiped the floor with me.
Frazer came across the line in just a little over an hour which was phenomenal for his first time doing that run. He was quite rightly pleased.
And so on to my run home. Well that didn’t go to plan. It was roasting hot, I didn’t have my sunglasses or a hat and my legs decided the 10k trail race was enough. I had to make a call to my mum at 3 and a half miles in to get picked up before my hamstring went ‘ping’.
All in all a good day. I knocked 3 minutes off my time from last year which was the main aim. But best of all there’s only one more hill race!!
Photos courtesy of Ethan Lee and Gordon Donnachie – they are at most races in Scotland kindly taking photos on their own time. Much appreciated! (Except the one you get of me every time where you age me at least 30 years! Ha ha)
The Alexis Rose Trail Race is a local families legacy race for their daughter who passed away from meningitis when she was only 19 months old.
No I’m not out running trying to do crazy maths whilst writing this. This post, this very one, is about Stirling Marathon. And the title will become clear soon enough (I promise you won’t need one of those calculators with more buttons than a remote control).
The inaugural Great Stirling Scottish Marathon (what a bloody mouthful – it will be called Stirling from now on) was Sunday past – and my third marathon. I had quite a complicated aim. Under 4 hours but if it didn’t feel right at any point I was to pull back because I can’t risk the Half Ironman in 6 weeks (eeek, little poo came out) and I still need to carry on training for it. So, one side of the scale to the next – under 4 hours but gentle walk to finish if anything happens.
All runners were to get the shuttle bus as it started at the safari park in Blair Drummond which is on a bad road on a normal day. Happy to report I handled this by myself with no issue. Wow. Feels like I might be growing up!
Joking aside I was surprisingly calm about this event. Admittedly there was the use of breathing techniques a lot but, no actual issue.
Not until I needed the toilet. The boast of plenty of toilets on the pre-race info was just ever so slightly exaggerated. To the extent of there being more truth in the existence of Santa Clause than the number of toilets they had provided! I queued for over 40 minutes. I watched the elites start, the fast club runners start, the orange wave, my wave and even the wave behind me before I had managed to relieve myself! As you’ll know from previous posts, I’m not too shy that I won’t ‘drop trou’ if needs must but I wasn’t about to do that with the risk of an antelope or a rhino coming up and sniffing my butt!
So I was late starting. Which meant weaving through hundreds of runners at a different pace to me. I didn’t like it any more than they did. I can almost forgive the women who elbowed me sharply in the ribs, almost. There was a moment later on in the race when I saw her again thanks to the laps and I briefly considered tripping her up. Joking!
I had been dropped at the pick up by Joe, my daughter, my youngest and my mum. Thanks to my daughters ability to sniff out a Marks and Spencer’s hot chocolate within a 5 mile range they were able to find somewhere to kill some time before heading to the course to try and spot me.
It was great running weather – we had just a spittle of rain. Didn’t need sun glasses but was comfortable in shorts and vest. Perfect. The first section of the run was through a few small villages and there was great support from the locals. Lots of kids out with sweets and high fives. About 8 miles in I heard a familiar voice shout my name. It was Gail from my work. She sounded really surprised to see me which I’m putting down to being ‘surprised she actually managed to spot me’ and not ‘surprised I was actually running’. Either way it was great to see her and I gave her a huge grin and wave as I went by. Running.
A little further on and a lady from my running club jumped out from the crowd screaming ‘Go Perth Road Runners’. Genuinely awesome enthusiasm. Love it!!
Not far past that and I see my family. My daughters holding up the sign she ‘loving’ made for me. (Loving should probably be replaced with bribed if I’m totally honest. But a sign is a sign. And it was for me! And I loved it!). My youngest was shouting ‘go mummy’ and the other half was still smiling so I knew they weren’t bored yet. My mum was still trying to get her camera turned on after I went past but that’s Nanny Netty for you ha ha.
Half way was a bit of a climb up and round the university. On reflection it was barely a hill at all but at the time it was the equivalent of a hill race. True story. I spotted a couple of guys from my club and decided to try and use them to keep my pace up. I was a little worried about having started at the very back and didn’t want to come in with an awful time. I have a wave and ‘your going good, well done’ when I eventually caught them. Not long after I did I spotted another from my club so did the same again. Slightly harder this time, it felt he was running the same pace as me. Then, just as I was about 100m behind him he veered off the road and in to the bushes. I won’t lie, I felt hard done to. All that hard work to catch up with him and the only way I did was because he stopped to pee! How dare he! Did he not know I was chasing him down?? Ha ha.
The long straight in the by pass was awful. It puts me off running the same course again. It just seemed to go on forever. Then at the end of it was the lead in to the dreaded lapping system. I really didn’t think I would be able to count to 3 at this point. It was very de-moralising passing signs for 22miles when you are only 17 in. I was convinced I had gone the wrong way when I first saw 800m! That’s it, well done Ella, you have actually been that stupid that you’ve missed the laps. Your names going to be all over the papers and all the social media sites. Game over.
I hadn’t though. When I hit the underpasses I knew I was going the right way. Along with the bypass the underpasses were atrocious. I didn’t think they would bother me but the 3 times down and up and trying to get past people in a tight space was near impossible. I hope that gets changed. The big benefit of the lapping was the regular support. Now that is something you can’t complain about! It kept me going in the hardest miles.
I wasn’t really checking my watch much but when I was trying to keep on track with my laps I couldn’t help but notice my time. 22 miles and I did a quick calculation. Ok, going to have to be careful if I wanted to make the 4 hour target. The underpasses were really killing my mood so I decided if I at least beat my last time of 4hrs 9 then I would be happy. There was quite clearly a blister forming on my left foot as well as some other infestation no doubt so that would be a good enough goal. Another check and I really was cutting it fine. Think of the Half Ironman Ella, don’t be silly. 23 miles and I try to do maths again. I’ve got a Parkrun distance to go and I’m at about 3hrs 25. Parkrun is 3.2 miles.
Even at 10 minute miles I can still get under 4hrs.
And I’m running faster than 10 minute miles.
Don’t slow down!!! You can get in under the 4 hours!! You can do this!!
I stop to walk for a second and get my breath. Naturally.
Whatever ecosystem was generating in my left trainer screamed out in pain.
Ok, I needed to start running again.
Knowing I ‘had this’ I slowed my pace. I was now at the 800m mark and happy to see the finish. 2 women in front of me held hands, raising them in the air. I won’t lie, this did irritate me a little. I was about to come in in under 4 hours and I wasn’t going to get a good finish photo because I would be blocked by their arms. (I’m all about the photos). I tried to speed up past them and crossed the line just to the side.
I checked my watch.
3hrs 55m 26seconds.
Possibly the happiest I have ever been at the end of a race!! I find Joe and I’m jumping. ‘3hrs 55!’ I scream at him. ‘I know!’ He says.
I’m very, very happy. Nike might have been going for a sub 2hr attempt, but for me, this was the equivalent.
I also see Kenny at the finish who has run 110 marathons. 110!! He’s looking for the baggage bus which he thinks might be quite far away but there are no signs. I’ve got to be honest, this washes over me at this point as I’m still so happy with my time. I’m soon grumbling though when I realise he is of course correct (it’s Kenny, he genuinely knows everything) and I have to make my way, gammy foot and all, on a new adventure that requires a map and compass to try and find the bus.
Back at the car and my smile comes back. It’s thankfully not a long journey home but my daughters had a hard day and falls asleep – so I take a photo of her. That’s one for her 18th!
At home after I’m changed and showered I phone my mum to check she’s ok. It was an early morning start for her and she hasn’t been too well recently. I’m so glad she made it though. My dad had planned on being there too but he was babysitting my nephew.
It’s most likely one I would do again. I love the thought that I was there for the very first one – and the medal says that too, it’s a nice touch.
Now. On to the small matter of this Half Ironman…..
There’s not many races my husband and I do together but 2017 was starting with one. Afraid of being beat by his wife he suspiciously got ‘sick’ beforehand so it was touch and go whether or not he would participate. Excuses set however and we were off to Edinburgh. Again. We went to registration and I was ecstatic to discover I had jumped from 87 to 212 in the year. Joe was 336. No comment.
It was cold but not as cold as the year before. I wasn’t as nervous as I had been either – surprisingly that didn’t hit me until I was 3 people away from jumping in the pool. This was a change. Previously you got in the water and waited until you were told to go. This was new. I don’t like change. And I especially don’t like unexpected change. I watched everyone getting in and tried to suss out the best way to do this. Climb down the ladder. Walk over to the wall and then push off. I repeated this time and time again so I knew what to do.
I was counted down to my time and then climbed down the ladder. The ladder ended. My feet didn’t touch the floor. I kept going down. And down. And down. Not forward. Then I couldn’t find the wall. What the actual hell was happening!! Eventually after 6 hours I reached the surface, grabbed the wall and pushed off. I say pushed off but it was more of a duck under the water and back up again – there was no movement forward. The next guy had already climbed in. So naturally panic set in. I couldn’t breathe, I was swallowing soooo much water. I was petrified of how deep it was (I hadn’t touched the bottom despite plunging deeper than the titanic) and it was twice the length I am used to swimming. I stopped half way through the first length chocking on the water. This was awful. I got to the end and tried to calm my breathing. Someone passed me and that was it again – panic stations galore – I even started breast stroking for a few seconds! Now I’m not knocking those that breast stroke, Christ many are faster than my front crawl, but I had practised front crawl and I wanted that sub 9minutes.
I remembered what Joe had said to me the first time I had done this triathlon. Very basic, very straight to the point. ‘Calm. Down.’ (Was a bit more colourful than that but it worked). I eventually found my rhythm and slowly started to get through it. I even managed to pass a few people who had obviously gone out too fast.
I was too embarrassed to turn round and see if I could see Joe when I climbed out the pool so I just ran to T1. As I went through the doors in to the cold I heard ‘It’s Ella!! Go Ella!’. It was Gosia from one of my running groups. She was volunteering as a Marshall. That cheered me up no end and put my mind back in a good place. Thank god!
I couldn’t get my trousers on over my Tri suit but I knew I couldn’t handle the cold without them so I persevered. I was slow, very slow, but I needed to be. And do you know what, that’s ok. I wasn’t out for the win. I didn’t want to risk catching a cold because I didn’t spend that extra 10seconds putting a top on. I could have gotten changed indoors but I braved the outside.
Off on my bike and could I get my bloody gloves on? Could I heck. I ended up wobbling dangerously side to side to put them on. 3 times round Arthur’s seat. 3 times up that hill. Up. That. Hill. However. I was on a better bike than last year, and I like to think I am a little bit fitter than last year. (Think a lot of yourself there love). I did find it easier, and I enjoyed it. Most of all, I didn’t die. There was a man in a long army style coat standing at the side cheering everyone on so I smiled and thanked him that first time and had a joke with him the second and third. I saw a few numbers in the 300’s go past me but I expected that. There’s always a few elite types. I kept watch for my husband as I had expected him to catch me in T1 but hadnt seen him yet.
On the downhill I decided to go for it and went flying down. A bit too fast as I was yelled at to slow down and if I had had my porridge like I should have done it would have been making a reappearance. Good thing my clothes are black that’s all I’m saying.
In to T2 and surprisingly I didn’t fall off and I was able to run ok. Well, as good as you can in cleats. It felt like I was trying to run on heels. Not great. I frantically looked over to Joes section to see if his bike had gone genuinely believing if he hadn’t passed me he must have pulled out. He really shouldn’t have done it as he really wasn’t well but apparently winding him up that I was going to beat him was too much for him to take. His bike wasn’t there so I knew he must have been out on the course.
Trainers on and I grabbed a gel and took off. Then quickly went back to take my helmet off. It happens. It was only a few steps, no big deal. My legs were ok to run on which I really was shocked at given I had just ran every day in December (and the last 3 in November, that’s an important point). I did find the hill quite hard but another smile and joke with the man in the long coat and I made it to the top. All the while watching over my shoulder for Joe. Downhill and I tried to give it the last of what I had in my legs. Up the last incline and through the finishing banner.
I went straight over to the transition area and looked for Joes bike. It was there so I searched the crowd, couldn’t see him, so went back down the course. The marshalls asked if I was supporting or gloating. ‘A bit of both’ I cheekily laughed. To be fair it wasn’t long before he came up that last hill and yes, I made sure he knew I was there.
It was actually quite nice cheering him over the line for once. It’s not something I normally get to do. He hasn’t done any races himself so there’s been no opportunity for me to play the eccentric, supportive wife screaming from the sidelines. It will happen though. And he will love it!
Of course I know I didn’t actually beat him. He started a good 10 minutes after me and was only a few minutes behind me finishing.
But. I was first over the line. That is an actual fact.
He pretty much died after it and is still ill but that’s what stubborn does to you. We have a race we are both doing next year and I am more than aware he will beat my ass. But for now, I won!