Ilkley Triathlon Spying Mission

• Very short version: There's a bloody big hill.
  
  Long version: It seems that not all of our gang were prepared for the shock of public transport actually departing on time. So it was to be that myself and Corporaless Odd (for whom we really should agree on a soubriquet) ventured alone on the train to Ilkley, after a moment of extreme pathos seeing Veg, Nom and Fromage miss out by the slimmest of margins. (NB. This is the first time ever that 'slim' and 'Fromage' have been used in the same sentence, ever.)
  
  After a brief stop-off at that finest of Ilkley institutions, Greggs (sausage roll-mungous), we sought the triathlon by following the herds of parked cars. Sure enough, within a few minutes, the sound of a slightly moontouched public address system and the sight of an inflatable finishing archway were observed, we had reached Tri Central.
  
  Having spent a few minutes drinking in the atmosphere (which was plentiful) and smelling the fried onions (which also seemed plentiful), we managed to work out how to reach the Lido for the swimming. This was around 1:30, firmly in non-elite athlete territory, and thus instructive for us, the very definitions of non-elitehood. The first thing which struck me was the paucity of front crawl. To be honest, I had expected a majority of swimmers to be doing front crawl, however breastroke was the preferred option for approx. 60% of athletes I observed.
  
  A few more swimming observations:
  
  
  We won't have to practise diving, as all competitors (including elites) start in the water.


• None of the casual athletes did forward roll turns, much to my relief.


• Wetsuits were very much in the minority. Most people were wearing regular gender-appropriate swimsuits, which confused me a bit in the case of the men, who can't really hide a full set of cycling/running gear under swimming shorts. I guess they put that stuff on over the top, which to me sounds absolutely awful, but hey.


• For those who don't know, the starting times were staggered from about 10:30am to 4:30pm, in increasing order of swimming speed. The casuals are set off in groups of about 3, at about 5 minute intervals (actually, this might've been shorter). There's 2 or 3 to a lane, so even in a race, it's hard to find clear water :-(


• For Nom and myself, it seemed possible to leave glasses poolside. I didn't see anyone actually do this, but I did see one guy pick up a towel after finishing the swim, so I can't see why there couldn't be a pair of specs there as well. Either way, it'd be extremely hard to get lost, given the number of marshals around.


• The fans are awesome. We spent about 10 minutes cheering on a complete stranger because the person next to us knew them. Everyone is like this.

By around 2:15, the desire to see lovely blue sky overtook us, and we headed out onto the cycle/run route. I particularly wanted to see the dreaded 'Curly Hill,' responsible for more pain and hurt than Miss Whiplash and my Seattle Mariners combined. We ventured out onto what is really a very pleasant countryside road, with bonus river and bridge action, albeit without bonus pavement, for about half an hour, until, just after the first turning, we found it.

ZOMG.

My first thought was "We have to go up this?" My second thought was "Four times?" It's extremely long, and extremely steep, I took some photos but I doubt they'll do it justice. The only real consolation is that the rest of the course must be downhill, more or less by default.

The other thing I was observing at this point was the selection of bikes being used. I must sadly report that about 98% of competitors had extremely nice road bikes, I think we saw only 2 bikes that weren't ultra-fast. One rider even had a dedicated tri bike, the sort of thing which causes my tongue to loll unattractively, the sort of thing that costs roughly the same as a new car.

I. Want.

By now, it was time to head back for the elite swimmers. Most of these guys were pretty swift, although by no means all, and there was about a 50/50 split of roll turns (or whatever they're called) and grab turns. In particular, there was a 15-year-old kid and an adult which went in after everyone else had finished, these guys were going for race records and went like proverbs off a stick, about 6 minutes for the kid and 5:30 for the guy. Not exactly the sort of thing we can aspire to, but fun nontheless.

Back to Tri Central, and the finishing post. Not before a quick look at the various tri toys available for purchase, though. All the cool stuff I can't really justify at this stage. Massage too, excitingly. Anyway, the finishing line, complete with an MC-type calling out the names of finishing competitors, and orchestrating applause, which was lovely. The spectators lining the last few yards made a guard of honour. I am very much looking forward to this next year.

To our chagrin, we couldn't stay for the last finishers (bear in mind these were the elites) but I think we saw the winner, #316, who I believe beat 55 minutes. 55 minutes! Goodness me. Wandered off at 5:25, after a few Mexican waves (oh yes!), using the ancient Oriental technique of "being early for the train".

Finishing off with ice-cream and KFC (Boneless Banquet, awesome), we reflected on a day well spent.

Pictures below. Might be bandwidth-intensive, we'll see.