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

Leave a Comment

“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

Leave a Comment

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

Leave a Comment

When I knew I would be going long again in September this year, my plan was always to have a half in the lead up to it. Originally, I had signed up for Vachery, which was later cancelled. So I signed up to Ironman Berlin 70.3, which was also cancelled. It was almost as if this race was doomed! Then they announced Budapest 70.3. Three weeks before my long distance felt too close, but after consultation with my coach and getting the green light, I was in.

After having already raced two middle distance races in May and June, I was almost a little blasé about this one as it was only really a ‘prep’ race ready for Challenge Almere. The course was completely flat so it would be good groundwork. Despite a lot of changes going on (to be announced in a follow up blog post), I felt quite fresh and ready for this race.

Budapest is an unequivocally cool city. It has a great vibe to it, and as a country girl, even this inspired great affability in me. I headed straight to the expo on Thursday morning for a recce swim. In a sheltered part of the Danube accessed via a beach, I had a lovely steady swim, and despite the fact you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face, the water felt surprisingly clean, temperate and pleasant. So far so good. After registering, browsing the athlete village, and spending too much money in the merchandise store, it was time to explore the city.

Warm sun bathed the streets of Budapest and it was nice just to soak up the atmosphere, drink coffee, and relax a little before all the hectic race preparations began. The majestic buildings and impressive bridges really are a sight to see, and the city has a great vibe to it, kind of inexplicable – you'll have to go there to feel it! This was going to be a great race, and excitement was starting to build.

On Friday I had a swim, bike and run on the course, so back over to the expo again in the brilliant sunshine. More athletes were buzzing around this time and the atmosphere was definitely pumping up, with loud music and lots of preparation taking place to get everything ready for race day. After a short, easy and smooth swim I hopped on the bike to test out these flat Hungarian roads which stretched right alongside the river. 

I was happily cruising along in zone 2 heart rate at 31kph so I knew this would be a fast course. Until I turned around. Then the headwind ensured that I wouldn’t maintain that pace, at least not going so easily and trying to keep my heart rate low. Yep, the course was exposed so this could potentially prove more challenging than anticipated. A short run off the bike confirmed that I felt super fresh and ready to race.

After the athlete briefing I hooked up with a few other triathletes for coffee, banter, and last minute prep tactics before heading back for a carb load and an early night. This was it, race day was looming, the alarm was set, and everything I can do had already been done.

As usual, and although it wasn’t quite as pronounced as my first race of the year in Mallorca, I was super nervous. Arriving at the expo early despite my rather modest start time of 9am, I was soon put to ease by chatting with a few fellow triathletes and working out how to spot our bikes in transition (cue massive speakers, thanks for that!).

I headed to the beach to warm up and a whole host of athletes then followed. Off went the pros, and I was waiting tentatively on the start line of the beach…3…2…1…GO! After having been caught up in a horrendous mosh-pit in Mallorca I decided to take the outside line further from the buoys, and risk losing a few seconds rather than get caught in the fight! This proved to work really well as I managed to quickly get into a steady pace and rhythm without any jostling for position. 

On the first turn I realised I was quite wide from the buoys and gradually drifted closer so I could take a more direct line. At the 180 degree turnaround point I could see a few speedy ‘stragglers’ right up front, but in fact, I was in the front pack, which was encouraging. I managed to get on someone’s feet here and had a great draft all the way back to the beach. On exiting the water and getting to my bike, I could see hardly any bikes had left transition, something which made me both proud and super psyched! I was overall pretty pleased with my swim time of 32:27 and made a quick transition out onto the bike.

It was immediately obvious that there was a massive headwind as I headed out on the bike, and my heart rate shot straight up as I struggled to hit 30kph. It was seriously strong, and I was keeping equidistant from the other girls who were out on the course. At the first turnaround point, it was a huge relief to have a tailwind and I could finally relax a little in order to get some nutrition on board. I soon realised I was flying along at 34kph without too much exertion – it was to be a bike split of two halves, then!

After a speedy section along the river it was time for the huge climb up to Buda castle (a monumental 50m!), and surprisingly, this felt really good. I felt strong on the climb and the descent was a welcome relief for a bit of recovery, despite a few dodgy speedy bumps and a section of cobbles (think Tour de France)! Because of some of the technical turns and hairpins, there were quite a few people going down… Steady she goes…

The moped referees were out in full force, black carding people for drafting left, right and centre, and at times it was almost impossible not to draft as the men poured out onto the course and space became a bit on the tight side. However I managed to stay back and be vigilant to approaching mopeds, and before I knew it (massive exaggeration), I was on the second lap. The wind seemed to change direction, though, because there wasn’t quite the pronounced headwind/tailwind situation on the second lap. 

The hill felt harder, the turns felt slower, and I was struggling to get nutrition on board but I kept ploughing until it was time to jump off the bike, and thank god, after almost three hours of unwavering aero position. My bike split of 2:49:52 was a middle distance bike split PB but I had hoped I would be quicker on a flat course. Quite contrarily, a flat course is pretty relentless as there is no recovery; it is basically a 90km time trial.

Another 2-ish minute transition and I was out on the run. Luckily, this was the only completely cloudy day so the sun wasn’t too penetrative. As if that would be the pinnacle of all my worries! Nothing quite like tri suit tan marks?! Anyway, as soon as I started running I was hurting. Uh oh. There’s an entire half marathon to go. How am I going to do it? This distance should be easy by now surely? Evidently not. 

My main objective was to not let my splits deteriorate. I wanted to hold the pace, but my first 7.30 ish minute mile was not likely to be sustainable. I slipped a little over the course of the four laps but managed to mostly hold my pace, so I was pleased with my consistency if nothing else. It was a real struggle to be honest, and I was focused on trying to get gels down and get through it. The last lap couldn’t come around quick enough, but I knew I was still in a pretty good position and just didn’t want to lose a place. I finished the run in 1:47:19. Not mybest performance but could have been worse.

I was 10 seconds off my PB in a total time of 5:14:57 and was 5th in my age group and 38th female overall. Most encouragingly, I more or less maintained my position since exiting the water so I knew that once again, my pacing across the three disciplines was consistent. Being only two spots away from a podium is definitely my best result yet at an international race, so although I know I can do better, I couldn’t be anything but pleased.

I had amazing support crew in the form of my boyfriend, and we all went out for celebratory cocktails later on to revel in the fact that it was over! This did come after a period of feeling completely and utterly broken where I had to lay on my bed and not move for a few hours in an attempt to recover from my physical trauma (172bpm for the whole race, enough said!).

Budapest was a fantastic race, a fantastic city, and I spent time with some fantastic people. This is definitely a race I would do again, and despite it being the first time it has ever been run, I have to say the whole Hungarian operation was slick, well organised and impressively well put together. And what a backdrop…

I’m happy with my result and more importantly, had a great experience. For now. I’m still chasing that sub-5 dream though… 2015?

Robert Twells August 26, 2014

Leave a Comment

Ok, granted, a rather strange title for a triathlon blog. However, for those of you who have read ‘The Chimp Paradox’ by Professor Steve Peters, you will know exactly what I am talking about. For those of you who haven’t, read and learn people – read and learn.

The hypothesis that Peters (who is a consultant psychiatrist to Sky ProCycling and the England football team, among others) creates is based on the fact that our rudimentary instincts sometimes control our logic (this also parallels Freud’s theory of the id, the ego and the superego). If this all sounds a bit heavy, bear with me…

The ‘chimp’ is that animal inside you which reacts emotionally to situations. The ‘computer’ is your brain which can process the information and apply logic. Peters has created a globally-acclaimed mind management programme which has been widely adopted by a host of sporting greats. It was cited by Chris Hoy as “the mind programme which helped me win my Olympic golds” and Victoria Pendleton claimed “Steve Peters is the most important person in my career”; so to summarise, he comes on good recommendation. 

The reason I am writing this is because we all suffer from chimp-like moments, on a frequent basis, whether in our sport or outside of our sport. When it comes to sport, however, like any other performance-related activity, it really counts how you manage it.

I have a tendency to get insubordinately nervous before races, angsty during a race, disappointed if I don’t do well; this is all chimp-like emotion which should and can be controlled. It’s perfectly normal, of course, to have these emotions, but it is how we handle them that will ultimately make the difference between a ‘champion’ and a ‘finisher’.

On another level, there is sometimes this chimp chatter that goes on when I’m feeling tired. But am I actually feeling tired? There is that age-old question of whether it is just your mind saying you’re tired or whether you really need to listen to your body if you have over-trained and need rest. How do you know? Sometimes, it is very difficult to tell. Listening to your body (but not the chimp) is imperative for anyone training for a triathlon, because you will come across this at some stage or another.

There is a very effective way to establish whether you do need rest or not, and for many, this is something they already implement into their training: heart rate. If your resting heart rate is higher than usual, it indicates that you are tired/stressed/over trained and should be careful about what training you take on. You may notice it while training – an elevated heart rate (and a lower heart rate threshold) will tell you a great deal about how fatigued you are.

The important thing is to try and not let your emotions dictate your race or affect your overall perception of your sport. If you have a bad race, learn from the experience. This is said countless times in triathlon-related articles and many, many non-triathlon related publications, but it is true. It only takes a moment to observe what the pros do – it took Chris McCormack six attempts to become Ironman World Champion, and if you have read his book, you’ll know that yet again, a large part of this comes down to the psychological attitude of a winner.

Many pros have been plagued by bad luck, crashes and injuries before going on to win key international races. It’s all about attitude: a positive outlook, self-confidence, and belief in what you are trying to achieve (and maybe already have achieved). Self-doubt is something which affects us all, but we need to shut that chimp up.

I can’t say I’m an expert on any of this but ultimately, we are all on a massive learning curve, as you never stop learning about the sport, and more importantly, about yourself.

There are endless articles on training for performance; drills to perfect technique, volume and intensity, rest and recovery, nutrition and hydration, gear, kit and technology…

However, this stuff will only get you so far. It’s the mind that gives you the edge, so don't neglect it…
 
 

Robert Twells August 11, 2014

Leave a Comment

There’s something very cool about triathlon (apart from the obvious, being a kit hoarder and all the rest…) It’s a global sport, and it happens all over the world. It can take you to some incredible places, whether that’s a misty reservoir in Rutland, Leicestershire, or a regal mountain backdrop in Austria. You can create your triathlon footprint all over the globe. Wherever, whenever.

The same applies for both training and racing. For those who follow me, you may be aware that I seem to travel a lot. Believe me, this has not always been the case! But since I was made redundant in January and my life changed for the better, I now work for myself and have the flexibility to train and race wherever I like without being shackled to a paltry 20 days holiday per year. So of course, I am going to take absolute liberty of this. While I can!

In late June I went to Lanzarote (again) for a training jaunt. I am extremely lucky to be supported by one of my sponsors, Lanzarote Retreats, who provide me with free accommodation when I’m out there. People on the island are fantastic, they are so keen to promote the sport and I kind of have a little network of friends out there which is always good, to save me from being a lonely hermit. I had full access to the amazing competition pool at Sands Beach Active thanks to John Beckley (think swimsuit tan lines galore), and the lovely Markus Fricke of Markus Cycle Lanzarote let me have the Cannondale Slice to train on (speed machine). 

This time I did something a bit off-kilter for a triathlete – I stayed in a luxury eco resort, Finca de Arrieta, which was a pretty cool experience! The accommodation basically consists of Mongolian yurts – glorified tents but with marble floors featuring and in-set lights (swanky). The kitchen and bathroom are ‘outdoors’ so there is a real al fresco feel to it. A shared eco pool with Thai beds just topped it off nicely. Not bad for a training base that’s for sure! 

Lanzarote was its usual windy, hilly, high-volume-training-week self, so I won’t go into too much detail as it’s probably all been mentioned before in previous blogs! 

A week after I flew home I was off again; this time to the unequivocally glamorous Pembrokeshire. You laugh, but it was just as incredible as Lanzarote. Cottage in the middle of nowhere, right near to the golden sands and clear waters of the beach and set right in the heart of the Pembrokeshire National Park. Hills, sunshine, and quiet, open roads. Tick. 

It made me think (apart from how lucky I am that I can work and train anywhere), about how awesome triathlon is because you can do it anywhere – as long as you have access to a bike and some degree of water! I completed some quite beefy training sessions in Pembrokeshire, including a couple of 6 and 7 hour days, and it was a pretty stunning backdrop going along the coastal road.

It can be challenging training in some places, but I think it kind of adds to the fun of it in some ways, because training and racing can carry so much variety, from the cold climes of Northern Europe to the heat and humidity of the Far East, from cityscapes and town centres to the rural wilderness of the Alps and the desert.

I’ve actually now just come back from Paris, on a social visit, but training is obviously still a necessity. Now this is less scenic in some ways due to the hordes of tourists and traffic congestion, but running along the banks of the river Seine with the Eiffel tower in the background has its place in triathlon training! There is less to  be desired about the over-populated swimming pools but it’s manageable, and to be honest, it’s a different setting for the same kind of training, so all in all, it was an enriching experience. 

I’m excited that over the next few months I will be racing abroad in three different countries, and training in a few new places too. Triathlon can take you anywhere, and while not everyone will have the luxury of time or finances to be spreading their triathlon wings across the globe, there is opportunity out there for everyone. Each and every place brings a new and different experience and a new and fulfilling triathlon memory to add to this amazing life which we live. Let’s go exploring…

Robert Twells August 5, 2014

Leave a Comment

Last year I decided to enter some of the iconic races. I had absolutely no idea where my season would be going; at that point I didn't have a single sponsor and was just doing triathlon for a bit of fun, all before it turned serious… I had heard the Dambuster was a pretty popular race so I entered it. No particular regard for distances – 2014 was a bit of a mish mash of distances; everything from sprint to full iron, why not!?
 
The Dambuster was going to be a bit of an unknown for me though as I hadn't done an olympic distance tri since September 2013. Because this was the National Standard Distance Championships I knew the field would be absolutely stacked; shorter stuff is definitely not my strength and I knew there would be some super fast girls there – my hopes were not particularly high!
 
I arrived the day before to familiarise myself with the course. I had heard that the bike course was pretty tough – eh? It's Leicestershire, it's pretty flat there no? No. Apparently not. As I drove the course I was filled with a slight dread as I knew that my bike is not my strongest discipline and that there would be some serious competition. Add hills into the mix and I knew I'd be struggling to keep up.
 
The sun was shining brilliantly on race morning; at least the weather was playing ball. Nearly 3,000 athletes meant that this race was one of the biggest on the UK circuit. I was in the second but last wave and with plenty of time to spare after racking, I could enjoy watching people set off (this is code for – more time to get irreversibly nervous).

As I stood taking photos of the lake in the early morning, someone called my name, and I looked around to see the legendary Cathering Faux wearing a high-vis tabard on the other side of the barrier! I had a lovely chat with her, once I got over the shock of her knowing who I am and recognising me! Something wrong here!? She was helping out the organisation of the race, torn between being partially glad she was on the other side and partially envious of those racing. I was just wholly envious of her talent to be honest!
 
So, the race. A dry land start (positioned right at the front, even though I know I'm not the fastest swimmer. This was part of my new strategy to not get bashed around in the water, mosh-pit style) and we were off. As I swam I settled into my pace and realised that the lead pack was ahead of me and I was at the front of the chaser pack. I knew my swim was going reasonably well but I could not quite catch up with the lead pack, and because I was at the front of the chasers there was no drafting opportunity, which was a bit annoying! Solo swimming it is then!
 
I was out of the water in 26 minutes which I was really pleased with, as this is 5 minutes off my 31 minute time from September, pretty good progress! The official time was 27:09 minutes because there was an uphill run into the transition area and over the first timing mat. But I'm taking the 26 min as a PB!
 
T1 was not ideal. They had cut the grass prior to the event but left it all there, and therefore T1 consisted of 1 inch of grass cuttings stuck to the bottom of my feet and trying in vain to get my feet into my bike shoes without taking half the lawn with me. I actually SAT on the grass to try and do this, which then rendered me with a grassy behind as well. As I ran out of T1 and onto the bike, I was halfway down the road before I realised I had grass on my face. Classy.
 
Bike time = hill tackling. Here we go! Immediately on the bike I could feel my quads working, maybe because of quite a high training volume recently, and with a number of races in recent weeks. This didn't bode very well. I was pushing hard from the start thinking I should really pace myself for the hills a bit more. I had been warned about the famous 'Rutland Ripple', which belies the monstrosity of this massive dip in between two very sizeable hills. I was making good time in the first half, however, averaging a decent 32kph.
 
In fact there was a section about halfway where I was averaging 38kph so I thought I would be onto a good time. I quickly realised though, that I wouldn't beat my last Olympic distance bike time (where the course was slightly shorter than 40k), not only because this was longer but also much, much hillier (and hillier than completely flat). 
 
During the bike course I realised something. Olympic distance is actually a really nice distance. It doesn't have the excruciating pain of the sprint intensity, and yet there wasn't that feeling of dread knowing that I would spend the next 3 hours of my life on a bike before running a half marathon, a la Half Iron distance. Yes, this was good, just over an hour of bike before a nice quick 10k. Supposedly.
 
The last 10k consisted of wind and hills, which meant that the probability of anyone arriving into T2 feeling fresh was pretty non existent. Bike completed in 1:20:40. Not exactly record-breaking that's for sure. I ran into T2 and had another epic! I ran along the wrong rack and spent abut 30 seconds looking around me for my racking spot. Oops. Over there. What an idiot, I am usually good at not going all 'lobotomised' during a race.
 
Grass gate take two. Trying to get socks on and remove the grass before shoving my feet into my run shoes was proving a bit challenging. Grabbed a few gels and ran out to face the 'pancake flat' 10k, as someone had so delightfully reassured me. Quite quickly, however, I realised this was NOT a pancake flat run. Don't get me wrong, I mean it wasn't 'hilly', but definitely undulating. Oh god, this was actually hurting quite a lot.
 
Ok, maybe I don't like this distance much. Because it was an out and back, before long there were all the super fast girls running past me, probably 20 minutes up on me! Inevitable, but not exactly a confidence booster. Damn. (Forgive the pun). I was pushing super hard and my heart rate was around 180, wow this was tough. I'm not even going to mention that it was a warm day as I spend so much time training abroad this would not be a good excuse for my slow run time!
 
I knew that I wasn't going to get a PB here, and I could see my run time slowly slipping away from my ideal. However I powered through and finished in a disappointing 47:25, and a total time of 2:38:43.
 
My overriding feeling, after I could actually breathe again, was disappointment. It was probably illogical of me, considering that not only is Olympic distance not my thing, and I have only ever competed in three or four in my life, but it was also a stacked field due to being a European and World qualifying event. I was 14th in my age group so quashed my top ten finish game plan, and was 42nd woman overall, out of 180. But it is what it is and I guess it could have been worse. But I also know categorically that it could be a lot better.
 
My coach reassuringly said "This is just the start. This is why we need to do the shorter stuff, so you get faster". Well I'm up for that. After my season of going short, middle, long and a few in between, it will be all about speed…

Robert Twells July 14, 2014

Leave a Comment

There must be something in the water, because this past week has been a little bit strange to say the least. Yesterday, I walked away from the National Middle Distance Championships with a silver medal.

What the…?! This kind of stuff doesn’t happen to me. I’ve never been ‘good’ at anything. At least not to the extent that I win stuff. There are a couple of possible scenarios here.

1. It was a fluke (likely)
2. I underestimate myself (very probable)
3. It didn’t actually happen and I’m living in a matrix style perception of reality (probably not likely, but possible. Maybe.)

I guess there are only so many times I can keep saying “yes but the field was thin. Yes but my age group is less competitive than others. Yes but the conditions played to my strengths. Yes but if you actually look at the OVERALL times mine wasn’t that good. Yes but if it was an international race I wouldn’t have stood a chance in hell.”

Because yes, those things are probably all true. But the fact is, I’m WINNING STUFF. And what’s more, I’m taking significant chunks off my PBs every time. (And yes, I know I will plateau and probably struggle to get any better, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.) For now, I’m happy with how things are progressing.

It’s funny, one month ago I stood at the start of Ironman Mallorca 70.3 (race report here) absolutely sick to the stomach with nerves. I had no idea where I stood benchmark wise – a full winter of training but nothing to guage where I am at performance wise.

So at the start of the Grafman Middle, I was yawning, a little bit bored, and not particularly bothered about the race in all honesty. This stemmed from the fact that this race was actually not one of my ‘key’ races this season, it was more of a filler and actually, my last coach, Steve, said I should enter it as it would provide a good benchmark of where I am at in comparison to the rest of the country. So I booked it practically a year ago and almost forgot about it.To sum up, I was not psyched. I went up the day before to get a feel for it, dossed around on my own, had a romantic meal for one in a pub, and got up on race morning feeling fly with a new Ffwd carbon wheel on my bike, but not much else. Oh, and I was number 13. Bad omen or lucky for some!? We will soon find out!

I had anticipated this being a STACKED field, but a glance at the start list in the information tent told me otherwise. As is sadly often the case, especially with longer distance events, the female field was quite thin on the ground (comparatively to men) with only about 90 women out of 600 or so competitors.

Anyway, I wanted to warm up but the water temperature was too cold (14 degrees, quite chilly actually) to be standing around dripping while the race briefing took place so I decided to wait for the allocated 5 minute warm-up slot in between waves – it would have to suffice. It was quite amusing when, as I stood on the front line of the swim (run-into-the-water-type start), the race director Keith said: “We’re going off in about 10 seconds, or why not now!? BOOM) which panicked everyone a bit as we jostled into the water with the grace of a herd of hippos.

Having strategically positioned myself right at the front I managed to avoid the mosh-pit fight-fest a la Mallorca, and had quite a smooth swim start. But I soon realised I had made a bit of a schoolboy error by positioning myself on the outer edge (must have been my nonchalance at the beginning – not switched on!), which meant I was taking the buoys quite wide and therefore not gunning along the quickest route.

I felt pretty smooth on the swim, didn’t feel the cold at all, felt very relaxed (nonchalance, yet again) and just cruised along without exerting myself too much. In hindsight, I should probably have pushed harder but was conscious of not going too full on and holding back some energy for the rest of it. It was one of those, run out of the water after the first lap then back in things which I think makes you lose time. Anyway, I was out of the water in 34:29 which I thought was not particularly good.

It was at that point that I thought I might just cruise this race, I wasn’t that bothered about it and I didn’t have very high expectations about it. What I didn’t realise is that I was 3rd in my age group out of the water. But there were quite a few bikes in my wave area so my strategy was to go steady and consistent and just see what happens.

On the bike, the course is predominantly flat-ish, well, undulating, and I thought that I should get a better bike split than in Mallorca purely on this basis. But an hour in, and I was feeling it. The thing with flat-ish courses is that it’s relentless! There is no recovery, the heart rate is constantly in zone 4 and the legs are just pumping along. It is also quite demoralising doing laps of a long straight road. Mentally, I found that bike course one of the toughest I have done.

On the first lap out, which was an out and back, I could gauge how many women were in front of me. I counted about 25 and thought that I may as well give up trying to do well and “just finish”. I was pushing along at about 31kph and knew that it would be hard for me to maintain that speed (because that’s actually quite fast for me) for an entire 90km. But if I could just do that, just hold onto it, then I’d be happy with myself, forgetting the other competitors.

Nutritionally, for some reason everything clicked like magic during that race. I am very lucky to never suffer from proper GI issues, but I do tend to get a bit of discomfort in my stomach after eating on the bike, especially in aero position for prolonged periods, and then I can feel it when on the run too. But as soon as I was on the bike, I was hungry, which was unusual for me. Probably because I didn’t get panicked in the swim or feel nervous before the start.

So I was smashing back peanut butter sandwiches and Get Buzzing bars (thanks to fitnaturally, who writes my race day nutrish plans, it means I don’t even have to think about it!), and getting plenty of energy in. I started getting overtaken by a few chicks in the second half which initially annoyed me, but I just couldn’t be bothered to try and catch them. After what seemed like a very long bike course, I came into transition thinking I had just scraped under 3 hours, but afterwards, my split had recorded at 2:52:15 so I was quite pleased with that.

I have to admit, one thing I am brilliant at is multitasking, so as I ran into transition I quickly counted the number of bikes in my wave area, and there were 5 or 6. This, I figured, put me at about 6th or 7th in my age group. As I went out onto the run, I felt frikking amazing. What!? Where did this come from? The run goes along Grafham Lake on a beautiful flat concrete surface, right up to the damn.The sun was shining, and I felt super, super strong. Steady on love, we’re only 15 minutes in. Oh yeah, damn, I have a whole half marathon to run yet. I had to remind myself not to push too hard or I’d burn out. In fact, I knew it was an inevitability that I wouldn’t be able to hold this pace and pretty soon, I would start feeling it and my laps would get slower and slower.

However, as I nailed a few gels, quite a few men, and started to encroach on more and more women, I realised something. I’m not feeling any worse. In fact, I’m feeling just as strong, if not stronger, all the time. This was HUGELY different from Mallorca, where I had really, really felt it on the run. YES. COME ON. I started picking off my competitors. “There’s another one in my AG, let’s take her down.” I love this game.

People were waning. It was apparent that the heat was getting to the competitors. Not for me, having spent half the year abroad on training camps (see, told you they were valuable!). I was still thinking that I probably wouldn’t have done hugely well, and despite taking a few down, there weren’t really any girls in my age group close behind me anymore, so I could relax and not really care. I wasn’t going to podium that’s for sure. 4th, 5th, 6th – what’s the difference, not much. I felt like I wasn’t hugely bothered with this race and that I should just keep going steady and finish feeling good.

Half the run goes off-road and it’s quite undulating, so I wasn’t expecting a super fast run time. But as I came onto the home straight (which was about 2.5 miles long), I started to put down the hammer. I saw a girl ahead of me who I was slowly catching up with. She was number 14, one ahead of me, so I thought “let’s chase her down!” This was going to be tough though as I think we were running at a very similar pace and every time I saw her she looked strong. I ended up getting quite close to her and ran through the finish right behind her. I couldn’t quite make it up. Damn.

I finished the run with a half marathon PB of 1:45:27 and quite a pleasing 17 minutes off my half Iron distance PB, in 5:14:47. I also later found out that I posted the fastest run of the day in my age group. Sweet. 

Not long afterwards, I found out I was 2nd. Oh right.

It was weird, because I had that thing which happened to me at the end of Ironman. I didn’t really feel much. I think in reality, I had pushed harder than I let myself think. Not in terms of fast effort, but I had just remained so consistent that it had been less perceived effort but had actually involved a lot of hard work to hold the pacing. The girl I had chased was in the age group above me as well! Nothing like a motivator though no!?

Ok, 2nd. That’s cool. Second. Hang on a sec, this is the National Middle Distance Championships. I had a Triathlon England rep congratulate me and told me to attend the prize giving a bit later on. It wasn’t quite sinking in for me. I knew I should feel elated, but I didn’t. Why?? I had cried at the finish line of Mallorca! Weird. I hung around for prize giving. They called my name. I was given a silver medal. I stood on the podium and had my photograph taken by Triathlon England official photographers.

I left to drive home.

Only later, when I had managed to get a bit of energy back and the realisation had sunk in, did I feel elated. Wow, second in the country. All the excuses started pouring into my head. The ones which were justifying why I had won this silver medal, the usual spiel about me claiming “I’m not that good.” SHUT UP.

I can quite categorically tell myself that I can stop saying I’m not very good anymore. And to those people that have conveyed negativity towards me: I am good. But it has been damn hard work getting there, and I’m not finished yet.

Robert Twells June 9, 2014

Leave a Comment

For anyone that reads this, they will know I am not a SPRINTER. In fact, I am very far removed from being a sprinter in any way, shape or form.
This is why my coach Rick has said I need to do sprint triathlons. “Forget all the long stuff, you need to get fast!” But endurance is my strong point, I lamely protest, as actually, I don’t really have a strong point, I just know that out of everything, going quickly definitely isn’t my forte. Which, presumably, is precisely why I need to address this problem.

So, interjected into my exciting race schedule of international middle distance and long distance racing in various parts of the world with GBR emblazoned across my tri suit, I have a sprint tri series. Talk about tackling all distances! But billed as “just hard training sessions” by Rick, I accepted this painful reality and turned up at the start line of my first sprint tri in two years.

Thorpe Triathlon series is five sprint races throughout the Summer, which means you can earn points for each race and see how well you do at the series end. It’s set in idyllic surroundings, a peaceful, still lake and flat to rolling Surrey hills, with the excitement of Thorpe Park rollercoaster rides as the rather unique backdrop. However, having woken up at 4.45am, nothing felt particularly idyllic as I set up my bike in transition at 6am, wondering how much I am going to be hurting over the next couple of hours.

This is the thing. By default, I am better at going steadily for longer than harder for shorter. Make sense? Probably not. But I am not so good at pushing myself in terms of intensity. It just seems a bit masochistic (weird statement coming from an Ironman).

Anyway, I jumped into the lake to warm up – officially the only person who bothered, must have looked like a right keeno – and quite contrarily, stood at the race briefing suitably wet and shivering. Then it was back into the lake for a few minutes warm up before the start.

I strategically positioned myself RIGHT at the front, on the front line itself, and set off with a group who I think I pretty much managed to hold pace with throughout (I think there were about 10 of us). I pushed hard, knowing that this swim was a bit of a luxury being only 750m long, focusing on technique the whole time and trying not to let the front pack get away too much.

I exited the water in 13:36 feeling good and was promptly told I was first lady out the water. After struggling to register this quite bizarre knowledge, I was quickly on the bike pushing hard and looking fly (or not) in my aero helmet. I have resisted racing in this on the basis that I am too slow to pull it off, however, I felt that my current level of fitness and performance has warranted a ‘go’ at looking like an aero-idiot!

It was a predominantly flat-ish course but there were a few hills, it being Surrey and all that, and I really felt this in my quads as I was mashing it up them, trying not to sound like an asthmatic (so high was my heart rate). In my mind the whole time was the fact that the bike is probably my weakest discipline, and that the women would be catching me up, so to that end, I thought I’d just go pretty much as hard as I could to prevent that, or even delay that from happening. I knew I was up with the guys and overtook a few, I think I was only overtaken by one guy on the bike so I knew my pacing was pretty decent. I came into T2 after 35:25 on the bike, again being told that I was first lady back, but wondering how much of a hellish struggle the run would be now I’ve virtually killed myself on the swim and bike.

Out on the run and into the mud. Now I knew this would hardly be a PB course as it’s pretty much 95% off-road and we’re not talking smooth off-road, we are talking proper ankle deep mud rutted by vehicles, to make matters worse (basically ankle-breaking territory). I was trying to sustain a good pace as I splashed along, and the guy in front of me actually went right over (I’m pretty sure he’s not the only one).

Again, there was this little demon on my shoulder telling me that the women were catching me, I must push harder so I stay out in front! The second half of the course was out and back so this provided the perfect opportunity to see how far ahead I was and whether I still had this in the bag. I was also told at the turnaround point that I was currently in 11th place overall, to which I responded with some Tourette’s style expletives at the sheer shock of it!

I saw on the way back, before the 1km home straight, that I was probably four minutes or so up on the second lady, so realised I was in a very strong position, but reminded myself that I must not get complacent just in case. Oh, and I was chasing 10th place. 😉

Running hard (and hyperventilating slightly) towards the finish anyway in search of a decent-ish time, I crossed the line with a 22:49 5k run time (only 59 seconds off my standalone Park Run PB), completing the race in a total of 1:13:49.

I had won.

Oh my god, this can’t actually be happening to me surely!? Not the girl that 18 months ago had come LAST out the water in every single triathlon? Not the girl who had never won anything? Not the girl that does not do short fast racing, or even training sessions, for that matter?

Wow. Just wow.

After it sunk in I reasoned that there weren’t many people in the race, only 40 or 50 or something, and even fewer women. I reasoned that if there were more people, I never would have won. I reasoned that if it had been a bigger international race, for instance, I would probably not even have come in the top half. However, it’s all about who turns up on the day. I know I’m not particularly built for speed, and that I have endless work to do if I ever want to get better. But I still won, I still led on the swim, bike, and run, and even if there weren’t many women, I still came 11th overall including the men. For me, who has only raced two sprint triathlons in my life, and that was two years ago when I couldn’t swim front crawl and swam them both using breast stroke, finishing almost last, I’ll take that.

Thorpe Triathlon, I’ll be back. I’m going to return faster, stronger and more of a winner than ever before.

Robert Twells June 2, 2014

Leave a Comment

Not commonly considered so, no. But I'm beginning to think otherwise. It's hardly clandestine knowledge that a cyclist gets killed on Britain's roads every day. Can you say the same about rock climbing? Or mountaineering? Or kite surfing? Or snowboarding? Probably not, no. And we know that it isn't cycling itself that is necessarily the dangerous element. It's our lovely fellow road users.
 
Britain is rife with cars. And people who rush. Put the two together in close proximity of a cyclist who has also subscribed to the commuter-rush pandemic and here we have a problem.
 
While I have so far been lucky in that I haven't been involved in a cycling accident, last weekend really shook it home to me just how vulnerable we are on a bike. This is hardly unique subject matter – the cycling/car driver debacle has been proliferating for quite some time, with some hefty campaigns in place to improve cyclist safety on the roads.
 
However, as a cyclist – or one third of one 😉 – I felt compelled to write about this purely because of an incident which I was involved in, and, quite frankly, shocked me.
 
Last weekend I ran the AK Sportive. I have run a sportive for a few years through my previous company, and after parting ways with the company, I decided to retain my passion for promoting cycling locally, and set up a new one. I work quite closely with British Cycling to run the event and make sure it is as enjoyable as possible (great weather – tick). I also ran it in conjunction with my bike sponsor, Lovelo Cycle Works, who devised the devlishly hilly route! (In case you did it and you're after someone to blame.)
 
I spent months funnelling hard work and energy into promoting the event, obtaining sponsors, branding it, marketing it, organising insurance, signage, goody bags and all sorts of paraphernalia. It took up a lot of my time, while juggling training and work commitments (and the odd training camp and race here and there!)
 
The reason I'm telling you this is to lay the foundations of my story – to summarise, I am extremely passionate about it. I get a massive kick out of people enjoying themselves on my local roads, turning up at the feed stations with big smiles, flushed faces, a sweaty brow, and a very visible sense of achievement and enjoyment. Especially when it is my hard work coming together to produce something successful. It's extremely rewarding, and also quite nice to be on the other side for once!
 
It was also very pleasant to be able to meet some of my Twitter followers (you know who you are), previous sportive riders, and lots of other new faces. So thank you to those of you who came along, it was great to see you and your support is appreciated. 🙂 
 
Anyway, things went well and I must have done something good as the weather couldn't have been more perfect. I've always been really lucky with the weather for these events, but this time was definitely top trumps on the weather front! Sunny, hot, blue skies, and no wind. For England, its nothing short of a miracle.
 
Back to the extreme nature of cycling in my opening paragraph – it is a non competitive sporting event so we try and reduce the risk of accidents by making it leisurely (hello pub stops) – it's not timed, and it's designed to be fun rather than competitive. We set the riders off early so they could avoid the worst of the traffic later on (risk assessment, tick).
 
The day was going well apart from a few signage mishaps and a few non-serious falls. However, as I drove back towards the finish where a BBQ and cold beers were waiting readily for the finishers (and, naturally, the organiser), I came across something unusual – a lot of cars pulled up along the road by a quiet village green and – to my horror – something obstructing the road.
 
My heart shot into my throat. It was one of mine. I parked and ran over like a bat out of hell. There was a rider lying face down on the road and another crouched over him. His helmet was smashed to pieces next to him. I spoke to the conscious rider who said they had both been hit by a car from behind. The car had apparently hit the accelerator instead of the brake (!?), taken out the first rider from behind then proceeded to hit the second rider, who luckily managed to escape with a few surface grazes and a little emotional scarring.
 
The rider on the ground was conscious but had apparently blacked out for a while prior to me arriving. The ambulance and police were on their way. I felt a bit (a lot) panicky. What do I do?! It is my responsibility that as an event organiser I do something here. But what the hell is it?! Oh god….
 
I had a witness approach me with a name and number, and took the details. I took details of both riders and took photographs of the damaged bike, the front of the car, and the obliterated helmet. Yes. This should be ok right? I knew I would need to file an incident report with British Cycling but I felt extremely vulnerable. This was my event! This poor, poor guy. He could have been killed. It was such a shock that I sat down on the grass verge at one point and burst into tears. Luckily I'm not sure anyone saw this as a) it doesn't look very professional and b) it doesn't bode very well for the victims if the relatively impartial event organiser breaks down!
 
I eventually gathered myself together and called the mechanic so he could come and collect the bikes. I explained to both riders that their bikes would be safely stored at the shop until they were ready to collect them. I informed the police of all my details. Both chaps went off in the ambulance and I went back to the finish to welcome other riders in. Phew, deep breaths.
 
Back to the sanctuary of the sun, the smell of the barbeque and people laughing and chatting amongst themselves. But this sense of dread that flooded my veins was still lingering. It was a real shock to the system. I cannot describe how it feels to be in such a position of responsibility that someone's life may have been at risk at an event which you own and run. Perhaps many of you are familiar with these kinds of situations, but I'm not, and maybe at the ripe old age of 28 I haven't had enough life experiences yet.
 
Needless to say both chaps were absolutely fine and I had a long and pleasant talk on the phone with the concussed rider after he had been released from hospital. He also felt extremely emotional about the incident and took a few days off work to recover from it. I was relieved beyond belief. I had some kind of intrinsic emotional tie to this guy because of what had happened under my remit. It was nice to strengthen that invisible bond I had by communicating with him afterwards, and in a strange kind of way, I think he felt the same.
 
What I can say is that it was haunting. And it really seeped into me, like a slow-acting poison, this harrowing reality that cycling really is very damn dangerous. Because anything can happen, and the majority of the time, it's not even in the rider's own control. In this sense, I think cycling could be classified as extreme, because it's truly unpredictable.
 
Just be careful out there everyone. Please…
 

Robert Twells May 23, 2014

Leave a Comment