Catch-up (part 1)

Not the swim drill, natch.

2010 was, I guess, my first proper year in triathlon. It was the first time I followed a decent training plan (although maybe not quite as closely as I might, in relation to doing the faster stuff), and the first time I did a bunch of races.

The early part of 2010 is fairly hazy in my memory, somewhat understandably. I remember a succession of terribly boring turbo sessions, which indicates the weather was less than ideal. According to my training log, I then progressed to painfully slow bike rides (although I didn't have my slightly nicer wheels back then) and a pile of endurance runs, which was fair enough as I was building from sprint to standard distance. Swimming I'm not sure about, I know I progressed to full structured training sessions in 2010, but I can't remember when. Man, I suck.

[As an aside, it's always fun to look back a year or so, to look at what speeds you were putting out. It bodes well for this year that I'm considerable faster than I was in early 2010.]

Driffield turned up in May, and it feels weird somehow to say it was my second ever triathlon. I was definitely feeling jittery as I turned up (actually, this always happens when I rely on Dad to take me somewhere...), although this was mitigated somewhat by doing a brick session on the course with Veg and Nom the weekend before. What I hadn't practised enough, though, was transition, and it showed, as, after a decent enough swim (to be honest, very good for May 2010), I made an ungodly hash of T1, taking ages to get my bike shoes on, taking another age to get my GPS on, and completely failing to attach my race number, for which I was rather lucky to avoid disqualification!

A slightly freaked-out bike leg followed (due to the number), albeit one that was a clear speed PB, and then further ignominy, as my general flusterment (may not be a word, but it should be) led to setting off for the run with my bike helmet still on! Sigh, waste of time and energy, the worst of both worlds.

The run was solid, though, even if the evil organisers had made it more than the advertised 5K, and I crossed the line in a fairly decent time of 1:04:04. I then discovered how unpleasant Udo's Choice is, and how lovely East Coast fish and chips are.

Ripon weekend deserves its own post really. It isn't going to get one. It really is an awesome experience though, partly due to the whole camping thing (cholera optional), partly due to the sheer size of the race itself, and all the attendant excitements.

Race day is a pretty odd feeling at Ripon, due to the afternoon start time. Waking up at 8 (you are, after all, sleeping in a tent) gives you a long, long time to get nervous. Luckily, The Usual Suspects were there to calm me down a little. Still, I think the most unpleasant feeling in all of triathlon is being in the 'pen' waiting to get into the open water for the swim start. It's genuinely horrible (and it didn't get much better at Leeds...)

The hooter went and, like everyone in the history of open water triathlons, I went off too quick. I tied up considerably by the end, not helped by the seams of my wetsuit chafing (Vaseline does the trick), and exited the water in somewhat of a daze.

[A moment here to remember the guy who passed away in the water - think he was in my wave, actually. Racing for charity as well - very sad indeed.]

I'd not been on the bike course beforehand, reasoning that it was pretty flat, so there was nothing to worry about. This turned out to be essentially correct - apart from a schoolboy error rendering my GPS redundant, everything went smoothly, in fact, more smoothly than I'd expected.

And so to the run. It'd been a lovely sunny day right from the beginning, which is grand for the swim and the bike, but running in mid-20s Celsius is a bit of a toughie. Like an awful lot of people, I struggled mightily, finishing just outside my target time for this discipline (by 18 seconds!) - total time 2:47:39. I was then a great pile of uselessness for at least a couple of hours. Although it turns out ice cream helps a lot...

Beverley was pretty nondescript - apart from the drama of getting ready to set off to the race, only to discover a puncture (aaargh!), and the mini-drama of taking a wrong turning on the way there. This race still contains my current bike PB though - 33.8 kph for 20 kilometres. It's a lovely, fast course. The run was a little annoying, though.

Leeds was a fairly monumental effort, such a hilly course, it still gives me nightmares. A shame, then, that my top-quarter finish was wrecked by being DQ'd for a duff overtaking manoeuvre. Ironic, as I made the overtake to avoid being pinged for drafting...

Ilkley, then, was the last race of the year. I needed a strong result after the disappointment of Leeds.

[Ilkley's such a great event, though, a super atmosphere, friendly people, a course to completely destroy yourself on - what more can you need?]

The swim was somewhat arse - I got unlucky with folks in my lane, and even had to stand up at one point. Not happy. The bike and run were fairly solid, despite a heart-in-mouth moment when I nearly overcooked it going down Curly Hill. Still, I felt that it wasn't quite as fast as it could've been; maybe I was still feeling Leeds, maybe it was the rest of the season catching up with me.

I finished in 1:04:36 and disappointed with that time (although it was nearly 7 minutes faster than in 2009). After sulking a bit, I hung around to catch the presentation, and was amazed to have actually won a prize! Although it was essentially down to a quirk of the prize system, it was a prize nontheless, and having it presented by World Sprint Triathlon champion Jonny Brownlee was an incredible experience. (Note to self: need to spend that gift voucher).

Then: pizza. In large quantities.

And, of course, thoughts of 2011...