Chapter 4 - I join at Triclub....a revelation!

Training Training Training it's all about the Training.

So to recap I’m now training for the training that will help me train for the Triathlon.  Good that’s clear.  So I go along to my local Tri Club - whole new world and sect of people.  It’s great because you can meet like minded people you know people who are doing Iron Men challenges, junior GB squad, I nod as if that’s perfectly normally to be training at this level  - OH FUCK! 

TRICLUB - SALMON FISH FARM

Drill Practice

I go along to meet the membership manager of my local Tri-Club, at Hampton Open Air Pool at 9pm at night - yes “open air” pool. It looks like I imagine hell to look with steam rolling off it in the darkness.  The session is for an hour; it’s dark, that’s a saving grace as I timidly step into the pool in my new non-see-through swimsuit.  The coach asks me to do 4 x 36m lengths to warm up. I opt for breaststroke purely to warm up you understand- mid-way through my 2^nd length I get asked to move down 2 lanes. I continued with breaststroke for the next length - YOU! what me? YES goto the end lane.  Think they’ve sussed my level of competence out quite quickly.

You know those salmon farms where all the fish are flapping around close to the surface in a frenzy? That’s what it looked like with everyone thrashing up and down the lanes doing their warm ups - funny no-one else seemed to be doing breast stroke like me!

DRILLS A REVELATION 

Hampton HELL open air pool

So here we are in the last lane on the left where we do drills. A bit like when you start an aerobics class where the instructor shouts instructions and it seems everyone else in the class knows exactly what they’re doing - the whole class sashays right you turn left.  I was struggling to understand exactly what I was supposed to be doing. Then the biggest revelation since I found out there was no such thing as the tooth fairy and that Louis Spence was gay, you breath out under water.  WTF ????? My very patient instructor says, “You need to blow bubbles out under water then take a breath”. Not sure what was happening in swimming pools in the ‘70s when I was having lessons (lets not go there again!) but I was always taught take a deep breath - swim - and come up for air when your lungs are bleeding. I hate scuba diving where you can hear yourself breathing so now not only did I have to breath every 3 strokes but I was blowing bubbles (like Michael Jackson). 

Bubbles

After 2 lengths where I choked spluttered bubbled, gasped, tried not to cry, kept going, alternated between front crawl, doggy paddle, trusty breast stroke and treading water I made it back to the shallow end.  Phew I got away with it, good job it was dark.

Instructor: YOU!

Me: What me? (I bloody knew he meant me).

Instructor: Yes you - go over there hang onto the rail and just blow bubbles under water. Subtext= you fuckwit.

Mortifying! - I asked him if he’d rather I just got into the paddling pool and stopped fucking up his drill lessons. He laughed half-heartedly. Meanwhile the rest of the “last lane on the left team” swam around me as I floated like a turd in the Mediterranean. The look of disdain on their faces meant I might as well have been a turd.  I did make a friend he had the same look of fear on his face as me - an ally we both agreed the bastards all looked like they knew what they were doing. I’ll never recognize my ally again though as he had goggles and a swim hat. Might have been David Walliams in training for all I know.

At 10pm the torture was over. I practically ran into the changing room, not just from mortification but because the ground was freezing on a cold January night. (Did I mention it was mid-January, it was 10pm and it was outside and it was dark?) This is important.

CHANGING ROOM BANTER WITH MY NEW TRICLUB PALS

In the changing room they were all talking PBs, half marathons, 10k’s. Like minded people? Mmmmmmm.

There was chocolate brownie on offer in the swimming pool foyer afterwards though which was a definite plus after all the burned KCALs.  And so I conversed knowledgably with my new Tri-Club teammates about PB’s Iron Men challenges, Marathons and Turbo Bikes. Did I fuck! There was a familiar face in the crowd who had been in my NCT group, the last time we’d seen each other we’d both got our tits out in the local Costa Coffee ……breastfeeding! So we talked about the children and ate cake…..just like NCT old times!

In the words of Roy Castle “Dedication’s what you need”.

The legend that was Roy Castle and his 1970s horn

So this was to be my new thing to do on a Wednesday night, training ready for my Tri-Camp in March so that I didn’t look like a….well a fuckwit. I had great intentions. That was 4 weeks ago - number of times I’ve been since = 0.  Well in my defense the next Wednesday was my lovely friend Jo’s birthday and the lure of the merlot stopped me going. In fact I embraced the lure of the merlot so hard-heartedly that night that I didn’t do much training for the next day either.  Beat myself up with a 10k run on the Friday though.

The next Wednesday - was ever so blowy I was a bit worried the children’s slide might blow into the pool and knock me unconscious. The next week was half term and we’d just got back from Paris and I don’t think a stomach full of fromage is conducive to drill training. And well this week - I’ve not come up with anything yet - but I will! My legs don’t bend that way anymore? Maybe.

A NEW PERSONAL BEST.

Eiffel Tower a gauche

Some French Tart

I think a couple of days in Paris climbing soooooo many steps and queuing endlessly has been plenty adequate training for Tri-Camp. I did a 10k run around Jardin des Tuileries one morning which was really really easy. Obviously a diet of croissants, wine and fromage was conducive to a new PB of 2.45 minutes/km, 10k in 29.18 minutes. Qu'est-ce que c'est?  I must have been more aerodynamic than I thought! (you know what I’m talking about Michelle Danks!) Actually I don’t think France agreed with mapmyride because it also showed that I’d zig zagged around the circuit like a mademoiselle on Pernod and had also taken a dip in the Seine half way around. Which would almost be a Bi-athlon and as we all know I have done none of my activities “consecutively or sequentially” so it was all Boeuf Merde.  OK then 6k with lots of stops for selfies in front of French monuments! (brother Mat no dog poo to report.)

PREPARATION FOR TRICAMP

Got the list through from the lovely TriCamp people.  Few things on the list have perplexed me somewhat: -

Wetsuit

Why would I be needing a wet suit? It’s Mallorca I was planning to be slapping on the sun cream and swimming in my new swimmers, sunbathing in between. So 1 new wet suit duly bought and when it arrives if I look like the picture in it - I’m definitely wearing it out as well! Yeah baby!

Your usual inner tubes and any of your favourite tools with you.

Is there such a thing as a favourite tool? A hammer usually solves most problems including IT issues.  A washing up bowl of water, some chalk and plasters in case of puncture is going to be quite hard to cycle with? Ridiculous people. Think I’ll assume all will be fine with the bike I’m borrowing (kindly sponsored by SunVelo). And at this stage “my usual inner tube” isn’t a term that applies to me.

Nutritional products you’re used to using.

Really? not sure what they’d be then; a packet of custard creams, pork pies, sherbet lemons and hula hoops. Might have to research this further.

AND SO OFF TO TRICAMP....

A few words on the list comforted my heart; Slippers, Warm Socks, PJs, Yoga Room, Den and Snug.  Perhaps not the attitude, oh bugger I should have booked a week in a Spa what was I thinking? Apparently Grayshott Manor does all sorts of extra's. Well I’ll let you know how I get on. I’m sure my brother isn’t laughing at me at all. 

P.S. Bike Bitch Pottsy if you're reading this can you come and take my pedals off my bike please ? 

All content strictly copyright Catherine Jevans 2014.

Chapter 3 - Camps, Cleats and Kerching.

I SIGN UP FOR A TRAINING CAMP! 

The signs are all there let’s be honest I am flailing around in the dark. Reading my Triathlon 220 magazine (not a horoscope to be found) I realise I’m going to need some professional instruction somewhere along the line.  It’s January and on a particularly dreary rainy day contemplating my mid-life crisis and the ironing pile I decide I need an adventure!

Rather rashly I sign up for a week’s Triathlon Camp. Email sent - yes bring it on. I’m having it………OH SHIT what have I done!

PLEASE DON’T’ MAKE ME CRY LIKE A BABY

How I imagine TriCamp

Whilst the Triathlon sprint around the beautiful English gardens of Blenheim Palace was being faced with apprehension this was nothing compared to the sheer terror the prospect of what I’d now stupidly volunteered for now instilled in me.

Several sleepless nights ensued imagining those Fat Camp documentaries where the fat kid is at the back crying because they can’t even make it up the steps to the Gym let alone get into the Gym. That was going to be me. I imagined an army training camp - give me 100 press ups Private Jevans and stop sniveling. Plus side to sleepless nights I went up 3 levels on Candy Crush!

I duly sent a groveling email to the Triathlon Training Gestapo making clear my exact levels of fitness and wanting reassurance that I wouldn’t be holding anyone up, and to expect tears! Reassurance was hastily given - of course - I hadn’t paid the full balance yet! The lovely Heather reassured me some people out there hadn’t even ridden a bike before they came out. OK I can do this

SIGMA SPORT BECOMES MY NEW SPACE NK

If my knowledge of Triathlon was nil at least I needed to blend in with the rest of the athletes in the camp so my new Mecca became Sigma Sport.  When I announced I was going on a Tricamp I swear I overheard the staff in the shop say “Kerching” and high five each other. Come this way Catherine just leave your purse at the cash desk. 

Rather like a shopping trip to Space NK (boys - it’s a make up shop. Denise Graham if you're reading this you know what I'm talking about!) you never see how much anything costs until you get to the till where you suddenly go pale at the placing of the decimal points. But some foolish pride makes you hand over the plastic whilst you try not to let the shop assistant see your bottom lip quivering - it’s perfectly fine to spend £130 on an eyeshadow and a waterproof mascara you convince yourself. Likewise in Sigma Sport - but I needed this kit to make me go faster!

My first foray was to invest in some more Lycra - that stuff does no-one any favours, but I was not going to embarrass myself by wearing my old Duran Duran T-Shirt and some jogging bottoms that I paint in. I backed away from the Tri-Suit that was a step too far. Besides I still hadn’t done 3 activities consecutively or sequentially yet!

PREPARATION FOR TRANING CAMP - I take out a mortgage in Sigma Sport

Equipment invested in: -

1 x pair of cleated shoes

1 x pair of cleated pedals

2 x Tri training tops

1 x Tri training shorts

RULE#5 DON'T FEAR THE CLEAT

We have an old college friend I’ll call him Dave - because that’s his name. Now Dave runs a cycling company in Mallorca www.sunvelo.com and I thought perhaps he could lend me a bike when I go to training camp. Nothing too fancy in case I crash it, preferably with a basket.  Dave didn’t have any baskets.  He has this....

SunVelo Carbon Frame Ridley Orion bike with strict
instructions not to be dropped, crashed or fallen off of! 

Dave is a hardcore cyclist who then proceeded to bombard me with lots of technical cycling questions, which did nothing to calm or allay my fears about my training camp. Dave remembers me from college as a Malboro red smoker in Dr Martens and stripy tights, not the 
sporty type. So he seemed less than convinced.

-   Dave: Had I ever ridden with cleated shoes?

-   ME: What? What are they? Where do I get them?  Russell and Bromley?  Do they come in different colours?

-   Dave: You need to practice with cleated shoes before you get on one of my SunVelo bikes. I reassured him that I had my Cycling Proficiency badge. He didn’t seem reassured.

-   Dave: “You’re doing a Tricamp and you haven’t ridden with cleated shoes before?”  He laughed..…a lot!  “What will you be cycling in?” 

-   ME: “Cycling shorts, it’s sunny in Mallorca in March right? “

-   Dave: “WRONG”

-   ME: “Thermal Long Johns and shorts? “ - clutching at straws now. I just don’t know what the correct answer is.

-   Dave: “You need long Lycra and a fleece and bring your pedals and cleated shoes.”

You’re a fuckwit Catherine was the subtext to this conversation!  And there I was thinking the cycling was the least of my Tri-worries.

CLEATED SHOES - MOVE OVER BRADLEY WIGGINS OR SHOULD THAT BE CHRISTOPHER BIGGINS ?

Bradders ?

or Biggins ?

KERCHING 5 assistants rush to my aid - I was back in Sigma Sport to collect my cleated shoes and pedals. In a Space NK kind of way I’d rather assumed that the receipt I’d got last week included the shoes and cleats. 
It didn’t - KERCHING. ££££

Shop Assistant: “We’ve put the cleats onto the shoes”

ME: “Great - that’s Great…….ermmmm what does that actually mean?”

Shop Assistant: “Do you have your bike here? We could put the new pedals on for you now to ride home”

ME: “Not bloody likely - have you seen all those cars and traffic lights out there. 
My maiden voyage with cleats is going to be strictly in my back garden under cover of darkness”

Everyone tells you horror stories about riding with cleated shoes ;- You WILL fall off; it’s all about anticipation, don’t panic. Which obviously just makes you want to panic.

Someone even asked me if I was left or right footed? “I don’t know I don’t write with my feet” - 
"Well what foot do you kick a ball with naturally?" ME:  “I don’t NATURALLY kick a ball with any foot I’m a girl! We did Netball.”

PEDAL SURGERY - SOME IMPORTANT LESSONS LEARNED

Shiny new shoes and granny pedals surgically removed

I very successfully took off my granny pedals single handedly; this was going to be sooooooo easy.  But now to put the new pedals on my bike. Looking at them I couldn’t tell which was right and which was left, I was desperately looking for the L and R symbols like I have on my running socks - no clue, nothing.

Well I know my left and right feet so I’ll attach my new cleated shoes onto the pedals and then I will be able to work it out.  Bingo! I now knew my left and right pedal, but the pedals weren’t attached to the bike yet. What a BIG mistake that was.

I ask someone for help  “You haven’t attached the shoes to the pedals without attaching the pedals to the bike have you Catherine?” ummmm Yes I had “How are you going to get them off?.

How hard can it be? - actually as it turns out it’s really really really hard.

ME: “NOONE SAID NOT TO ATTACH THE SHOES BEFORE THE PEDALS  WERE ATTACHED TO THE BIKE - NOONE - NOT ONE BLOODY PERSON - THERE WAS NO WARNING ON THE BOX ”

Pottsy on his way to do an 8K run obviously ! 

No one really tells you about the pain of childbirth either. (I’ve managed to get make up, Marlboro Reds and childbirth into a Triathlon Blog - not bad going).

I ring Pottsy, he loves his bikes (he's my new bike bitch), he would have the relevant surgical tools and know how to perform the operation all for the small price of dinner and a glass of wine.  Who am I kidding ? those who know Pottsy - I correct - for several bottles of wine.  The operation was performed beautifully by a perfectionist with great success.

Needless to say I have a 100% success rate of NOT falling off while out riding, what’s all the fuss about ? - But I’ve only been out 3 times to be fair. I will keep you posted.

CONCLUSION

So, now I had the equipment, the enthusiasm and a more immediate fear to confront - I mean goal to aim for i.e. “Don’t look like a doofus in 6 weeks time at Tri-camp”. 
BUT I needed something more iminenet, more local, an ounce of guided training……….I join a local Triathlon club. Oh no she didn't ? Oh yes she did ! 

Much to my brothers amusement - I’ll bloody show him.

All content strictly copyright Catherine Jevans 2014.

Chapter 2 Baywatch it aint

THE NEXT CHAPTER :- I APPEAR TO HAVE ENTERED A TRIATHLON! 

Blogging, eating the cakeOoooo feel like a real blogger, wifi down at home so sat in a cafe with my laptop drinking latte and pretending to be very serious. Touch typing really fast dfjljdfljfljf  jlfjldufocj 7080j  jfjdlfjdlfjldfjd ueon jlsdfjducnjjl could do without the bloody live jazz band in the background. So where were we ?

Oh yes panic sets in, over Christmas at drinks parties people seem to be moderately impressed that I'm doing a Triathlon. Various hints and tips ensue. Oh no not on a  hybrid surely ? It's all about the transition. You are doing freestyle right ? All a different language at this point. I pretend to know what they're talking about, I’m in denial.

My brother takes great delight in giving me Triathlon related Christmas presents all of which are designed to strike fear into me - kinesiology tape anyone ? WTF ? Can anyone enlighten me ? 

Good job it's pre-cut right ? 

I'll bloody show him ....

New equipment bought at this stage : 

1 x new hybrid bike, 

4 x new pairs of running socks

1 x swimming goggles and years supply of Veet (it’s a girl thing)

1 x running jacket 

Years subscription to Triathlon 220 magazine

1 x sports bag

1 x subscription to Mapmyride

More money than I used to spend on lattes and custard creams.

SWIMMING = 1 MILE A WEEK.  WHICH STROKE ? 

What is all that grit on the bottom of a municipal pool that looks like sand ? I'd understand it if there was a beach nearby. Or maybe it floats out of people's swimming trunk pockets from their holidays ? Just scabs ? ….actually probably best not thought about. But the mind does wander onto all sorts of things when I'm swimming.

I feel pretty pleased with my training "schedule" as designed by myself the Triathlon virgin. I'm doing breast stroke (or breastfeeding stroke as some have referred to it whilst mocking me) for pretty much every one of my 72 lengths up and down the 25 metre pool.  I'm sure, in my mind, that the lifeguard is impressed and can see immediately what a true athlete they have in their midst. Not difficult to impress as I swim past the grannies in their flowery swim caps.

The Hoff NOT at a pool near yo

It has been suggested by some that perhaps I should work on my Front Crawl or Freestyle as athletes refer to it.  So I do a couple of lengths and nearly have a heart attack. I limit use of this stroke to 20 of my 72 lengths. Mainly because I quickly realise in a 25 metre pool that I haven't actually in my 45 years of existence mastered the art of breathing. The stroke is overatted anyway in my opinion. I revert at every opportunity to breaststroke.

I also discover that my "Sporty" swimsuit is see-through at the top when wet. Ahhh ....perhaps that's why the lifeguard is looking at me then, not because of my sporting prowess.

NOVEMBER - CAN I BORROW YOUR GOGGLES ?

It was on a rainy Tuesday whilst I was recovering from doing 5 lengths of front crawl/freestyle by :-

a) breathing very heavily also known as hyperventilating

and b) by clinging desperately onto the deep end wall, that a male voice from the Slow Lane Swim Anti-Clockwise side of the pool shouted "Excuse Me ?". 

- Can't be talking to me surely.

"Excuse Me ?". 

- I don't know about you but I don't feel I can see in my swimming goggles and I'm always pleasantly surprised that it isn't actually dusk when I take them off. I also think it impairs my hearing too. So I lift them off and look to the Slow Lane Swim Anti-Clockwise side of the pool. He is talking to me....

"Can I borrow your goggles ?"

Me: "Pardon?"

"Can I borrow your goggles ?"

Me: "Ummmm No I'm actually using them." Can't he see I'm an athlete in training ? I decide to swim off quickly - thus it must have been breaststroke. Funny kind or chat up line I ponder. What a ridiculous question why would this man think I would let him borrow my goggles ? 2 lengths later that voice now quite insistent echoing across the municipal pool 

"Excuse Me ? Can I borrow your goggles ?"

Me: Equally insistent "Look NO ! I'm using them get your own goggles there's a shop at the front." Tsk Tsk some people ! probably a friend of the pug owner. Feel like I’m being targeted. As I left the pool I realised he was with his carer and other members of the community.  Ahhh bless him. Perfectly friendly reasonable request then.

NOT EVERYONE IS A PERVERT

Note to self don't assume that every male person in a municipal pool mid-week is either a pedophile or a pervert Catherine. Sometimes I feel the urge to shout at men loitering at the deep end without swimming for infeasibly long periods of time “What are you doing with your hands - yes you - hands above the water !”.

In fact the whole experience is fraught. I still look up when entering the changing cubicles expecting to see a face peering over the top. And now I think about it - am I the only one who subconsciously checks the walls for peepholes expecting to see an eyeball staring back ? I always stomp loudly into the shower area practically kicking open the shower door as if to announce my arrival “YES I’m here I know you’re in there.” ….there never is anyone lurking.

Perhaps I’m the oddball at the pool and everyone is in fact wary of me !

I've  been asked by the nice lady on reception not to wear that swimsuit again ! Fair point what a perv!

TRAINING PROGRESS UPDATE

Unless it’s periodisation week (I’m not talking girlie moon phases here) when the lure of the Merlot totally wrecks training. This is what I’m doing:-

Running twice a week about 16k a week

Clocking up the kms. Even ventured off The Green and now running by the river. No more figure of 8’s for me. Feel less like a hamster on a wheel.

Swimming - 1 mile a week.

Definitely need to sort out freestyle/front crawl and learn some sort of method of breathing. I also need to practice open water swimming rather than in the warm gritty municipal pool.

Cycling - 25k a week.

My new bike is a lovely hybrid with union jacks on, a gold chain and normal pedals. It was in the sale !  It’s love now that I’ve fitted a comfy saddle and put it at the right distance from the handle bars. Some middle aged men seem to doubt my choice of bike. They get quite fanatical you know. What do they know ? They start spouting Rule#12. Oh yes and I now know a) where my # key is thank you David Marsden hallelujah and b) The #Rules !

CONCLUSION

So I merrily do these 3 activities during the course of a week in isolation of each other.  There is a problem with this, the definition of a Triathlon is :-

“a multiple-stage competition involving the completion of three continuous and sequential endurance disciplines. Usually Swimming, Cycling, Running”.

Not once has my middle aged body completed these 3 activities continuously or sequentially.  I once cycled to the swimming pool but I don’t think that cuts the mustard.  I come to a rather rash conclusion, I need some professional help.

I join a club and sign up to a weeks training camp ! Now I’m really scared, and to use a swimming analogy I’m in at the deep end.

All content strictly copyright Catherine Jevans 2014.