I took up triathlon due to a combination of curiosity and a
need to do some training that was less impactful on my legs. Coming from a 100m
and 200m athletics background, my concept of pacing leaves something to be
desired for an endurance athlete. All of my triathlon experience has therefore
been at sprint distance, where I have, depending on the size of the race, generally
placed in the top 20 women. Since moving to London 9 months ago the time I’ve
spent on my bike has decreased, although I’m fairly confident in my fitness
ahead of the race.
The night before, I check previous years’ race times and
settle on an optimistic 1hr 25 as a target. I embark on the night before
kit-faff. I usually also prep food for the morning, but I realise my wave isn’t
until 12.30 and I’m filled with confusion; do I eat lunch before I race?
Race day! I wake up excited before my alarm, much to the
disgust of my boyfriend. I check my bike whilst eating peanut butter porridge and
remind myself to keep hydrated. The drive to Oxford from London is traffic free
but as we merge with the M4 the clouds close in and the rain starts to pour. On
arrival we park in a row somewhere the wrong side of “g” in the alphabet and
follow the buzz of the event village to transition.
I rack my bike chatting to fellow competitors
and answer questions about talc and body glide, through mouthfuls of banana, from
two baffled first-timers racking next to me.
After a lake side briefing and the
customary “ogi ogi ogi!” we jump in. The water is warmer than expected and I
position myself at the front near duckzilla.
Klaxon! Despite the other 249 people
all thrashing through the man-made lake, (a fact I picked up in pre-race
briefing), I can’t seem to find anyone to draft and only manage to get into a
rhythm with 300m to go.
The run from swim out back to transition probably has
its own ‘king of the mountains’ award on Strava and my feet and lungs are
grateful to reach the red carpet of transition. Out on the bike the rain begins
again and within 5 minutes I’m covered in flecks of dirt from passing Cervellos.
The bike is the section where I
typically loose time, so I get out of the saddle on the climbs and attack the tight
turns and descents despite the wet weather warning. There’s lots of spectator
noise on the return, which results in a challenging but enjoyable 3 lap course.
I respond to my boyfriend’s cheers with my best ‘look like a pro’ face. Back in transition my trainers are sodden;
did I mention it’s raining? I always enjoy the run leg of a triathlon, whether
it’s that I know I’m near the end, or historic favoritism I’m not sure. I pass
a few people on the undulating course and sprinting up the finish funnel, I
hear the commentators struggle with my surname which brings a huge smile to my
face. I climb onto the podium for a picture and my boyfriend tells me I’ve
managed a 1hr35 ranking me 18th in the 25-29 category.
Not my best but I’ve loved racing round this beautiful green estate
in the rain. Next up are a few summer 10ks and a sprint distance relay with my
club Clapham Chasers.
