Glenarm Triathlon. A disaster but tough lessons learnt.

Not my best day.  I think that’s a fair way to cover off the Glenarm Triathlon.

I’ll get in to a bit more detail but suffice to say that as I look back on it twelve hours later I am able to now see some important lessons that I really should have known anyway.

 

I’d been looking forward to the Glenarm Triathlon and the fantastic spell of weather we have been experiencing just made me even more excited about getting back in to action again.

 

Heading up to Glenarm driving along the coast road from Larne, the scene over the Irish See was idyllic.  Flat calm, warm and very inviting.  This was going to be great fun.

 

After registration and getting everything sorted we headed down to the race briefing at the swim start and I was eager to get in to the water as I was starting to get really hot in the wetsuit.

Even though it was boiling hot outside we still needed wetsuits, and in about 5 minutes I was about to find out why.

 

Making my way in to the water I was genuinely quite surprised how cold the water actually was.  I have swum up here before a few times and I know it is cold, however I thought that the spell of warm weather may have heated things up a bit, however this was not the case.  I lost feeling n my feet and hands and my face was frozen.  I really just wanted to get underway and warm up.

 

The first 100 metres of the swim were not pleasant and I didn’t feel all that comfortable but I just worked through it and focussed on keeping out of trouble and swimming as smoothly as possible.  The first turn buoy approached a bit faster than I thought and I was feeling OK.  The second and last turn buoy came around quickly too and I was feeling not too bad at all.  Not fast but comfortable.

The line in to the beach and swim exit was about 300-350M away.  This is where things started to get a bit less pleasant.  I started to feel myself slowing down, struggling with my stroke and taking on a bit of water when I was breathing.  I just seemed to make no progress at all and the exit seemed as far away as ever.  Was the tide going out?  Was I just tired?  I don’t know but it wasn’t much fun.

 

I eventually managed to get to the exit and head up the beach to transition.  As I crossed the timing mat I reached to my Garmin Watch to move it to Transition timing.

NO WATCH!!

Nightmare!  The Garmin was gone.  I thought back quickly and remembered a hard kick to my hand and wrist somewhere in the swim.  This was obviously badly placed and somehow managed to knock off my Garmin.  No point even thinking about looking for it as it could be anywhere on the seabed.  This really pissed me off as they are not cheap and I am reliant on it for all of my training.

 

I tried to refocus, get stripped out of the wetsuit and head out on the bike.

 

As I mounted the bike, I felt a bit wobbly and I almost veered in to a lamp-post, the resulting over-compensation almost saw me fall off the bike and then swerve back in towards to the kerb again.  It was about now that I realised something was just not right with me.

 

I persevered and got out the road a few miles and on the big hill which is a dominant feature of the bike route.  I was feeling pretty peculiar and lacked nay energy at all.

About one mile up the hill I felt a wave of nausea and overwhelming weakness come over me.

I needed to get off the bike ASAP or I was going to fall over.  I rolled up beside a farm gate and let myself drop against it while still clipped in to the bike.

After manoeuvring myself off the bike I leant against the gate feeling like total crap and wondering what to do.

I could barely lift my head and I thought I was going to be sick at any moment.  Could I take a gel that was in my pocket?

I went to get it out and realised that there was no way I could stomach it.

 

The hardest call I have ever had to make in a race was made on the spot there.  I was going to have to pull out.

There was no way I could get back on the bike and carry on climbing up the hill for another three or four miles.  I had no energy and I was seriously worried that even if I got to the top of the hill that I would put myself in danger on the fast descents.

 

I decided to pull out of the race. 

I walked the bike across to the other side of the road to head back to the start and I knew that I couldn’t get on the bike again yet.  I just felt like death.

Leaning against another gate I finally threw up all over the place.  A lot of sea water came out.

 

Feeling moderately better I mounted the bike and rolled back down the hill and the couple of miles after that back to the start.  The Ride of Shame!

 

Seeing everyone else running through T2 and completing the race was gutting but I know I just could not have finished the bike, never mind do the run in the heat afterwards.

Having to face people and tell them that I DNFd (Did not Finish) was not easy and ironically I was wearing my Ironman Finisher T shirt form Frankfurt last year.  That was the salt in the wound.

 

Now that I have reflected on it I have come up with some explanations.  Not excuses but they feel like it a bit. I will take these as learning points for the future.

1. I have come back off two weeks holiday, where I ate and drank a lot.
2. I have done virtually zero training for three weeks.  Literally a 3 mile run over a week ago on holiday was the sum total of my training for three weeks.
3. Before a race I make sure to eat properly.  As I was coming straight from work to the start here, I didn’t do this.
4. Before the swim in a race Ialways take a gel.  This time I didn’t.
5. It was a very warm night.
6. I swallowed a lot of sea water on the swim.
7. I did not prepare properly and respect the distance.  I had an arrogance that this was just a sprint race and that I could handle it fine.  I was wrong.

 

Not the greatest experience ever but I have definitely refound my respect for any distance of Triathlon.  They are tough for a reason and even a Sprint distance race is an achievement in its own right and to not acknowledge this fact was arrogant and stupid.  I will not make that mistake again.

I will get my preparation right in the future and stick to the tried and tested routines.

 

The disappointment remains but I am now looking forward to exorcising the demons of this race and going in to my next one with a sense of optimism and a greater degree of preparation.

 

Onwards and upwards.