Chapter 5 - Triathlon Training Camp Part 1. I fall in love.

Triatholon 220 Show

The Saturday before my training camp trip out to Mallorca with TriCamp the family and I go to The Triathlon Show at Sandown Park, porn for Triathletes. What is the first stand we see? TriCamp. They seem friendly enough I laugh and chatter nervously AT them, I think they think I'm a nutter, they may have been warned by Clare and Heather who took my booking. They thrust a free TriCamp water bottle at the children. Great now I have a memento that can permanently remind me of the hell in front of me.  The kids partake of all the free energy bar samples, as I know nothing of these nutritional aids I didn't realise they contain caffeine. The kids REALLY loved the Triathlon Show they were buzzing by the end of it and to be fair could probably have run home quite quickly! They didn't sleep much that night...ooooppps. 

There is caffeine in Energy Bars

2 sports bra's (much to my son's humilation), a box of "energy fuel" and a swanky new Triathlon bag with change mat and we're done. Not since NCT days (National Childbirth Trust for those who don't know) had I had a bag with a change mat. Hopefully it won't be needed for a similar purpose. Glossing over. I'm afraid I couldn't resist asking the Tri-Bag man if it came in other colours, as soon as the words came out of my mouth I regretted it. What an amateur. 

Tricks of the Trade - blending in

A few school boy errors have been pointed out to me during my training camp preparation.

1. Reflectors - Big No No.
Bike Bitch Pottsy comes around to take my pedals off and offers some words of advice.  "Get those reflectors off your wheels now, no respectable cyclist is seen dead with these on" he rips them off and chucks them in the bin. OK.

2. Garmin Watch

New watch with satellite & everything

Bike Bitch Pottsy gives me his old Garmin watch to time my running, mostly so I don't shock him with a 29min 10k run again. But also to blend in amongst the other athletes. The first time I take it out I return from a very fast 10k run only to stop the watch and the message "Locating Satellite!" to come up. It hadn't been switched on. So we'll never know if I beat Paula Radcliffe's record now. FYI I probably did.












3. Bike Helmet
Our friend Dave advises me to "Take THAT off" on seeing my bike helmet. 
Me "What the visor ?" 
Dave "Yes only mountain bikers wear those".
"Mountain Bikers" it would seem is a swear word in cycling circles. I hastily pop it off and shove it in my new backpack. See point 5.

Catch net made from tights?

4. Saddle Bags Rule#29
I am reliably informed by Dave that "Big Saddle Bags" (as in can fit a lipstick and 1 energy bar in) are purely for people going fishing for their fishing tackle. Another No No apparently, Rule#29 I believe.





5. Cycling Jerseys and Back Packs
I didn't have a cycling top with pockets in the back, so I took my new stringy back pack with me. It became known as my "comfort blanket" by the other TriCampers. And TriCamp Nick and Heather kept asking me every single bloody time we went on a bike ride  "What's in the back pack Catherine?" So to clarify:-  I have 2 children, I am used to carrying shit around for other people. Tissue's, Suncream, Snacks, Lipsalve. Sesame Bars. Phone. Oyster Card. Sunglasses. Purse. Autograph Book. Clean Pants. No spanners, no spare inner tubes, no puncture repair kit or anything remotely related to cycling accidents. I'm a girl, my theory is someone else will carry that shit and can assist a damsel in distress.  At 45 I may be pushing the batting of the eyelids technique somewhat and may have to actually rethink this strategy. 

I suspect the wearing of the back pack on every bike ride may also have been a loud and clear signal to other cyclists that I was a complete amateur. A bit like L plates for learner drivers. You spot them - you immediately tense and want to overtake at high speed forgetting all the rules of the highway code, and also the fact that you too were once a learner driver.  It might also explain why I was given such a wide bearth by all overtaking cyclists.

So far I'm blending in nicely ...... or am I ?

Essential triathlon items
bought at airport

Hi ho hi ho it's off to TriCamp Mallorca we go...

I now have all the relevant equipment to easily blend in with the other Triathletes (rather infers that I have completed a triathlon and done the 3 activities consecutively and simultaneously, which I haven't yet). I deliberated long and hard about my holiday book of choice - Bradley Wiggins autobiography?, Nick Dunn founder of TriCamp autobiography "I Dunn it My Way", slightly brown nosing. But settled for 12 Years a Slave - I reasoned whatever torture TriCamp was going to be it would pale into insignificance compared to the trials endured by Solomon Northup. 

Catherine looking years younger after TriCamp

Lots of well wishers before I set off.  And some not so pleasant remarks. Was I secretly off to have plastic surgery for a week? Harsh. At times liposuction has seemed a preferable option to what I was about to embark on. Many hurdles to overcome, .... Yes I am aware there are no hurdles in a triathlon. Sometimes I think I'd happily swap swimming for hurdles. So.......

The Bike Garage - Don't go up there Catherine!

I've never ridden a road bike before, so I'm slightly nervous and hoping for a test drive before the camp starts. Our friend Dave from Sunvelo arrives with my bike for the week, a lovely Ridley Orion. But it seems that the seat is not low enough for me, so very technically Dave has to go away with the post to saw it off with a hack saw. It seems a hack saw was not any of the other Tricampers “favourite tools” either. He must be cursing me he has a busy week. He arrives later with a smaller framed bike, a comfy saddle, a saddle bag and some digital display thingy-me-jig. Having failed with the Garmin watch I can't begin to start working out what that thing does. I don't even know how to work the bloody brakes at this stage.

As everyone in the bike garage is reassembling their bikes with their "favourite tools", Dave is teaching me about the gears. And the big cog and little cog, cassette, reel, derailer - FUCK FUCK FUCK! A few sideways glances in my direction, as it becomes blatantly obvious what my precise level of road cycling experience is. I think the coaches were also beginning to realise they had a fuckwit on their hands. Whilst my fellow Tricampers were making a mental note to avoid me at all costs.


Think Dave's regretting helping me out too. Not only am I of hobbit like proportions apparently but he also seems to think I may have one leg longer than the other - yeah very funny I'd be limping surely. Casually Dave asks Mike one of the Tricamp coaches where he'll be taking us on our bike rides. "Sa Calobra" says Mike. Dave's eyes nearly pop out of his head and he whispers to me "When they go on THAT ride, don't go up there. No I mean it don’t go". Thanks for that comforting advice - I just want to be able to use the damn bike let alone take it anywhere scary.  Dave goes off into the night - chuckling to himself and giving Mike a look that says "Good Luck with her - you'll need it".

It's like riding a bike

I am feeling very apprehensive now as I haven't actually ridden my sexy road bike yet.  The 16 of us gather around for our first team briefing.  
Nick head coach "We'll be going on a 50k bike ride tomorrow - anyone not ridden in a group before?".  There are 3 things in this statement that scare the shit out of me 1) Bike ride 2) 50k 3) Group. One hand goes up, yes it's mine, I look around hopefully for another amateur - "That'll be me then" I say. My fellow Tricampers make their second mental note of the evening to avoid the fuckwit. Nick "Anyone not ridden up a mountain before?" ...reassuringly a few more hands go up.  I don't sleep very well the first night.

In the morning my first outing on the road bike is off to the local swimming pool in Puerto Pollenca a mere 5km bike ride to get there. Never has a 5km bike ride filled me with such terror let alone 50km. TriCamp Mike says we'll be riding in pairs keep tight and ride up close to the person in fronts tyres. Fuck That! I have not a clue how the braking and gearing system works I am not about to crash into the person in front of me. Like a learner driver I may need to do an emergency stop at any given moment. Cleats ? they are now the least of my worries. There becomes a big gap in our "Cycling Group" where I am avoiding the people at the front and the people at the back are avoiding me. Although there are 16 of us - an even number suitable for dividing into pairs I believe, I can't help but notice I don't seem to be in a pair! 

Liza Minnelli a keen cyclist


We use a secret code of hand signals not covered by Cycling Proficiency circa 1978. Car Back, Car Front, slowing etc I thought I was doing beautifully until fellow Tricamper IronMan Steve mentions 3 days later that my signals always looked like jazz hands! I'm sure Liza Minnelli was a very good road cyclist in her day - thank you very much.

As we approach the first roundabout - the group at the front starts the chant "Slowing Down" "Slowing Down" "Slowing Down".  Panic sets in as I try to brake - "My brakes don't work" I squawk "My brakes don't work" - Oh there they are "Yes they do, Yes they do". Phew I think I'm really getting the hang of this now.


First ever 50k Bike Ride Ever - did I mention ever?

The words "Let's cycle up to the garage and back" may not sound like much, but never has a ride up to the garage to get a pint of milk been such hard work. Several things become apparent to me on this little day trip to the garage. A lot of people talking about nutrition some more annoyingly than others. I'd stuffed some silver foiled bars in my trusty backpack, no idea when to use them or how.  And it's a good job because I can't actually physically ride a bike, unzip my jacket pocket, and unwrap the damn things.  I think on this first ride, I managed to unwrap a small complimentary boiled sweet, whilst riding one handed. The other bars were in my "comfort blanket" back pack which without stopping I couldn't actually get to. Lesson learned I need a cycling top.

And dehydration - think I may have been on the verge of it several times. My tongue did stick to the roof of my mouth on occasions but I was pretty determined not to stop.  My lovely water bottle in it's cage (technical term), was just in arms reach.....if I could physically reach down. But that would mean taking my eyes off the road, rendering my arms redundant for jazz hands for deadly pot holes and dead crows. The act of tipping water into one's mouth was not a manoeuvre covered in my Cycling Proficiency Test circa 1982.

At THE garage all bike rides lead to THE garage!

But I made it to the garage and in a respectable time and I became in tune with the gears - after several people got fed up with the crunching sound and pointed out what I should be doing. And then something magic happened, I went down a hill and fell in love.  The feeling of coming down that hill, on a beautiful bike, with the view and the speed, and my trusty comfort blanket on my back - was pure magic.  I got it - I understood what all those middle aged men had been getting excited about.  It was a fantastic feeling. And it made me realise.....Yes......I have to confess.....I want.... no need....a road bike.

So I had survived Day 1 !!!- what other revelations were in store for me that hadn’t been covered by my Cycling Proficiency test circa 1992…..I’m a lot younger than you think you know especially after the plastic surgery.

Next Chapter….Sa Calobra, Gay Knitters, Slippers and Doggy Paddle.

All content strictly copyright Catherine Jevans 2014.