A-Race. We all know what that means. The BIG one, the one that counts.

When I found out I had qualified to compete for GBR at the European Long Distance Championships, it was an amazing feeling. I didn’t even realise it was possible at the time. As the year progressed, I soon discovered that many people get this opportunity and there is a divided opinion about whether it is considered an achievement or not, but whatever, I don’t care, I’ll take that opportunity and bank it as a pretty unique experience.

I guess I got a bit excited signing up for races this year, and putting 100% into all of them has seen me get some decent results (for me), so my A-Race had almost shrunk in terms of significance. In fact, to the point which it didn’t really feel like it was my A-Race anymore… and that’s not necessarily a good thing!
It was kind of weird. Last year, my whole life revolved around Ironman. It was all I talked about, all I thought about, all I dreamed about, and was the centre of my universe. This year, this iron distance race was almost “just another race”.

After Budapest 70.3 only three weeks before, my training mainly consisted of ‘ticking over’, keeping things moving with a little intensity and not much endurance stuff (guess that’s all in the bank by this point!), and the week before the race I was away on a little excursion around the UK for a semi-holiday, so I certainly felt relaxed about the whole thing! To the point, in fact, of feeling rather lazy and unfit.

This is normal though right? Every taper makes me feel like this. I was plagued by people on Twitter declaring how “great” they felt during their taper, and I was sat there feeling sluggish, tired and even when I did train, I didn’t feel particularly good. Not bad either, just mediocre. Uh oh, this could be a case of end of season burnout. I might just struggle with this long distance malarkey, I’m not really feeling ready for it….

After speaking to a friend before the big day, he messaged me saying I was “flat”. Yep, that pretty much summed it up. I wasn’t nervous, I wasn’t excited. I was just nothing. This was weird for me as I usually experience one or the other before a race. I wasn’t even that interested in talking about the race, I was enjoying distractions in the countryside! I did have a fleeting moment of unsureness and emailed my coach expressing it, but after reassuring me that it was normal and I had done a ton of training, I let go of that and went back to being flat.

I was staying right out of the way in a rural forest 30 minutes from the race venue so it was great not to be caught up in all the pre-race hype and swapping notes with other athletes – something I always try to avoid. The day before was the usual pre-race prep and always takes longer than desired, but I felt strangely calm going through all the processed of registering, briefing and racking. Time to carb load then.

Race day dawned at 4am and after the usual necessities, it was off to the start. There was an unusually short turnaround time between transition opening (6am) and race start (7am) so it was all about efficiency and less about faffing! Again, I felt strangely calm. This was NOT normal for me (read my Mallorca blog from May this year!!). Maybe because I have done so much racing this year? Who knows, but I liked it.

We entered the water and despite the mass of athletes congregating near the water entry point, I swam right over to the far right hand side (ready for a direct line to the first right hand buoy turn). It was a strategy I had. The first buoy turn was right, then for the rest of the course, they were left hand turns. This meant either keep wide on the first turn and get mashed up on the following buoys (or try to cross over to the right, which would be challenging at best), or get mashed up on the first buoy and have a clear wide run for the rest. I opted for the latter.

Most athletes were gunning for a diagonal (and longer) route to the first buoy so my far-right position was looking great. The canon was fired, we were off.

Swim
This was, unequivocally, the smoothest race swim I have ever had. My strategic positioning was genius! I had a nice clear smooth run to the first buoy and because of my proximity and direct line, it was smooth around the first buoy. Then I had a nice clear position on the outer edge of the pack to get into a rhythm. I very quickly realised I was swimming neck and neck pace with another female so quickly decided to drop onto her feet to save myself the energy. And relax. I sat on her feet for the entire first 1.9k lap, relaxed, smooth, easy swimming.

After the first lap, she started to tire so I looked for someone else’s feet to draft on. I found a guy who had an awful kick and a weaving swim so after some time struggling on his feet, I looked around for a smoother swimmer! I finished the swim drafting on a few other people but maintaining my relaxed, steady pace, exiting the water in 1:05. Not too shabby!

Transition was a long run into a basement to change before an even longer run out of transition and onto the bike.

Bike
Flat course is gonna be easy, right? Wrong. I was out on the first part of the course realising quickly that the series of turns and narrow sections on bike paths wasn’t going to result in the fastest bike split. However, I was averaging a nice steady pace of 31kph so my plan was to maintain this. Easier said than done. After around 20k, we hit a stretch of coastal road which ran right next to the sea for 35k, and an absolutely brutal headwind. My time was dropping. Head down, pedal on.

I was struggling to keep my heart rate low but I knew if I dropped off, my times would be compromised massively. Ok, just risk it then. I was getting plenty of nutrition and hydration on board without feeling any negative effects, which was great. After what felt like a very long time, we dropped out of the headwind and into a tailwind. Yep, this is more like it!

Cruising along blissfully, I was making good time. After endless featureless flat fields and about a million wind turbines, we were back at the start and commencing the second loop. A few cheers from my family and boyfriend spurred me on, but underneath my strong façade I was starting to weaken. I knew my endurance on the bike was a weak point for me, and only now was it really starting to show as I got overtaken. Again. And again. And again.

On hitting the second loop of 35k headwind, I hit a really low point. Just keep going, I can do this. It was no good, my feather-like positive thoughts were completely obliterated by the wind and got blown away into the nothingness. I struggled to keep pedalling, I was struggling to stay aero as my back was aching.
This is when a few tears came out, something that has never happened to me during a race. Where was the flatness? I preferred that. I was struggling to breathe as my chest tightened and the emotions took hold. I allowed it, embraced it, for a few minutes, and then decided it was making things harder and that I just needed to keep going.

Damn it was tough. Really, really tough, but after quite some time, as I rounded that corner and the tailwind pushed me along, I felt better. The last 30km of the bike was still really hard as everything ached, and all I could think was that even when this pain was over, I still have to run a marathon. Oh dear god.

My times had slipped and I got off the bike at 6:28. Slower than I had hoped for but a whole hour faster than my last iron distance bike split, I can live with that.

Run
After a quick transition (well it felt quick anyway), I was running. Wow. This felt AMAZING. Is that even possible? I was so relieved to be running, to be off that bike, and I felt super strong, relaxed, and in absolutely great form. Phew. I could do this.

My first lap (of six) was immense, I cruised along at sub 5:20 min/km aiming to hold that pace. I started taking in gels every 25 minutes (as instructed by my nutritionist fit naturally). Usually, I can’t take them this regularly due to stomach discomfort, which is never considerable, but enough to make me wait longer until it has settled a bit. This time, I was smashing them back, water at every single aid station, and I was feeling epic.

The second lap was much the same, but around halfway my pace started dropping a little. Ok, I can hold it here, that’s fine. The third lap was a struggle. I realised at the end of this lap that I was only half way and I was starting to feel the pain. On the fourth lap, I hit a dark place again. Even at the end of this lap, with the realisation that I still had two more 7k loops to go, I was despairing quite a bit and the tears threatened to rise again. My face was screwed up as the pain seeped into every corner of my body. My knees ached so much that I thought I may have to walk, maybe not even finish. My pace had slipped badly to 6:30 min/km.

My mini support crew shouted at me, cheered me, told me to make them proud. I powered on.

My fifth lap improved somewhat as I knew that with every step I was getting closer to that finish line. As I hit the crowd ready to take on my last lap, I was feeling amazing again. I had that euphoria back from my very first lap, and suddenly, I didn’t really notice the pain anymore. I smiled and engaged with all the supporters, and my pace was held at sub 6 min/km for the whole last loop. That’s better. I cruised across to a comfortable sprint finish in 11:48. Sub-12, in the bag. Brilliant.

I was third in my age group (hello bronze medal) but only three people were represented in my age group at the European Championships! (The open race was running in parallel). I was reassured by the fact that I was only 9 minutes off second place and only 29 minutes behind first place, so this was not a bad achievement. I was 18th female overall and was top 10 in the 25-39 category (they bunched three categories together for the open race). My swim time was only 4 minutes off the elite women. And I achieved sub-12. I was happy. Very happy with my A-Race.

I realised a few things on completing an iron distance race for the second time. I experienced every single emotion imaginable during that race and I hit low places that I have never been to before. I also felt euphoria and anger, and all of this came after a period of flatness. It really is an exploration into the self. My lows were non-coincidentally coincided with negative thoughts. This really is a mental game, and psychology plays such a strong part in performance.

But you know what? It was worth it. Every single bit of pain, tears, doubt and the vast loneliness of nothingness. Sharing this experience with my amazing parents and boyfriend who supported me all day long was incredible. This is what actually made the experience really special, other people’s belief in me when mine was temporarily absent. So thank you, to all of you. 🙂

Robert Twells September 16, 2014

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“To be inspired is great, to inspire is incredible”
 
Sometimes I find myself still wondering how this crazy life happened to me.

I was one of those kids growing up who never excelled at anything, who was average/good at most things, but certainly never a champion at anything (or even remotely close); I just drifted in and out of sports and hobbies as I tried new things, got bored and moved onto the next thing.

But this isn't a sob story. Triathlon kind of stuck with me. I suddenly thought one day, after so many times of nearly giving up in the early days when I was  last out of the water in every race; “what if I work really, really hard at this and see how far I can get?” – something I have never done before in any other sport or hobby. I certainly don’t excel at triathlon, but what I can say is that I work as hard as possible.

Earlier this year, I was asked to be a guest speaker at a corporate sales conference for a successful IT services company. It was my first paid public speaking slot, kindly organised by a fellow marketer who I knew through previous work collaborations. Now I have no “world champion” story to tell, but that’s not what they were looking for. They were looking for someone less obvious, someone who hasn’t always been a winner and cruised through life doing the same thing really well to get where they are now.

I stood in the conference room of a posh manor hotel in the middle of Buckinghamshire and told my story to 50 employees, all who worked in sales. I drew parallels with sales targets by identifying that in order to undertake an Ironman, bite-size goals, time management, commitment and the power of resourcing were all key factors.

It was a great experience, and I thoroughly enjoyed telling my story to these eager people with probably no interest in triathlon! However, it was very well received and I came away hoping that it helped a bit.

Four months later, and I have just received the following email from one of the employees at the conference:

“Hello Amy

 Earlier this year you attended our sales kick-off event as our motivational speaker telling us about your Iron Man challenge.

I found your story so inspirational that I signed up for a 10km run 2 days after your visit. 

Coming from someone who is not and never has been a runner I knew I would find this difficult.  

I bought a running machine and  then realised that I was in trouble as I couldn’t even run 0.2 mile without having to stop being totally out of breathe.  I didn’t let this stop me and, I cut out smoking, paid more attention to what I was eating and, over the next few months my pace picked up and I was able to run longer eventually getting to a comfortable and sustainable pace of 10. 

Now I am able to run for over an hour and have found running both enjoyable and somewhat addictive and I am running 3-4 times per week.
Today race day arrived  but this was not ordinary race. This was the Warwickshire Wolf Run. [Woods, Obstacles, Lakes and Fields]. 

I am pleased to say that I completed the race in good time and I am already looking to book the next run and continue my training.

This is all down to you Amy. There is no way I would have even considered this without your motivational and inspirational words. 

So I would like to pass on my thanks to you and the Directors for your booking.  

Please continue to do these events as you are changing lives as you have certainly changed mine. 

Many thanks

Ray”

This was the most wonderful surprise, as I didn’t think for a second that I would actually impact someone in this way. Every day, all of our lives are filled with inspiration in some way or another, whether it’s the tiny things like trying to cook a new dish, right through to bigger things like having huge dreams which at first seem unachievable. It doesn’t matter, because this inspiration is important – it helps to provide us with self-fulfilment.

As I have said before, I have no idea where my triathlon road will take me, but if I can inspire people even a tiny bit along the way, then I find that rather incredible.
 

Robert Twells September 11, 2014

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Despite all my training and racing over the past few months and a busy packed season on the outside, a lot has been going on internally for me, and it has had and certainly will have a huge impact on my triathlon life. It was a huge decision for me as unfortunately, it came right in the middle of the season, but I think things happen for a reason and the timing is probably ‘meant to be’. I have recently made the big decision to change coach.

This wasn’t an easy decision and it certainly wasn’t on a whim – it was something that had slowly been emerging for months, and I got to a point where I had to act on it. Only because, in my head, when I’ve made a decision, I find it very difficult to stay in ‘limbo’ and need to see it through.

It’s probably a little crazy to change my coach right before my A race, but I strongly felt I needed a change in direction and focus with increased coach-to-athlete engagement, and after some comprehensive discussions with friends and family, I decided to make the bold move early. Originally, I felt that perhaps I could wait and review the situation at the end of the season and make a call then, but soon realised that the time had come.

Rick has taken me to some great places this year, largely through focusing on training volume, and I have seen some great results and improvements as a consequence of his coaching. However, I felt I had reached a point where I need to change direction – working towards more focused sessions, analysing data, obtaining feedback; it was time to step up.

Sometimes, in life, you just feel that something isn’t right, or have a gut feeling about something. This was one of those times. For me, a coach is one of the most important people in my life and if that isn’t working as well as it could, it has a negative impact on my training, racing, and my life in general. It impacts everything. At this point in the season, negativity is not what I need, and while it was a painful decision to make, I bit the bullet and did what I knew was right.

An obvious decision for me regarding my coach was Martin Hill, who already sponsors my training camps at Triathlon Training Spain. However, I would never go for an ‘easy’ option just because it’s available, that’s not my style. I have worked with Martin since January, and he has a good idea of where I am at through various swim video analysis, long rides, runs, open water swims, and S&C sessions during training camps. He is actually the most thorough coach I have ever worked with – everything has a reason behind it; the training involves applied logic and reason, real and tangible purpose behind each session.

He had a good grasp of how my season had gone, what my goals were, my strengths and weaknesses etc, and after some initial conversations, I was delighted that Martin was agreeable to working with me.  I am extremely excited about where another level of training could take me, with increased engagement, feedback, and purpose, and am looking forward to working with Martin into next season (as well as a good few training camp stints in Spain!).

Already, in just a few weeks, I have been feeling fresher from reduced volume and more focused sessions. Initially, I thought this decision was really bad timing, but actually, I am now beginning to think it was meant to happen for a reason – to get http://halifaxartfestival.com/tramadol me at the start line of my A race, Challenge Almere, as fresh as possible and ready to take on the most important race of the year for me and my debut as a GBR age grouper. Bring on the European Long Distance Championships…

"Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything" – George Bernard Shaw.
 

Robert Twells September 9, 2014

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