I am a triathlete!

You might want to get yourself a cuppa now, before you start!

Today is a rest day (apart from the two netball matches I'm playing tonight, but, er, that doesn't count, right?) Yesterday was race day.  It started like a completely normal Sunday for me - I got up, went to church, busked my way through a few hymns, downed a cup of tea and then headed to Harringay Market for lunch.  Luckily, the pasta stall was there, so that sorted us.  Then it was home to make our final preparations and to book a taxi to Hyde Park (yes, I know, a taxi, but with the amount of stuff we had to carry, including wetsuits and extra pairs of shoes, cycling or public transport weren't really options).

Once we got to the park (in our MPV with blacked out windows!) we wandered down to the event area and on the way a chap asked us if we were doing the triathlon and, when we said we were, he wished us the best of luck. We stopped for a minute to put all the various stickers on our bikes, helmets and bags - we'd had to wait until we got there as it wasn't abundantly clear from the instructions which stickers went where, so we wanted someone else to copy or someone to ask.  While we were stopped, three people came up to us to ask us directions to the registration area, which made us very glad that we had done all of that bit on Saturday.

With all the stickers stuck, we made our way to the transition area and checked in.  We were allocated row I of the bike racks and told to find the next available space.  We were with other people who were in the same wave as us and, as it turned out, the people next to us had consecutive race numbers to ours.  We all got talking about why we were doing the race and whether it was our first and so on - it was really great to make some friends right at the start and that set all our pre-race nerves at ease a little.

Suited, but not booted!

Once we'd set out all our kit underneath our bikes, I had a realisation of something I hadn't quite bargained for - doing this triathlon was going to involve me going through the agonies of putting on a wetsuit in public. James pointed out that at least everyone was in the same boat, but I'm not sure if I'll ever get over it.  At this point I discovered one of the wonders of the modern world: Bodyglide.  This magic substance is a bit like vaseline, but comes in a stick (a bit like one of those stick deodorants that you wind up from the bottom) - you apply it to all your exposed bits before attempting to shoehorn yourself into your wetsuit and it makes getting it on and, crucially, getting it off considerably easier.

It was time to drop off our non-transition stuff in the bag drop and head to the start.  As we got to the assembly area, the wave in front of ours, all sporting orange hats, were just being taken over to the briefing area and then on to the pontoon.  At this point, we were next to a group of four or five Sikh guys who were all doing their first triathlon (James had to point out to one of them that he still had the stickers on the lenses of his goggles - it turned out he'd forgotten his prescription goggles and had had to buy some at the expo) - they turned out to be quite a feature of my race as I was neck and neck with them in the swim and saw them again at both transitions.

Soon it was our turn to head to the briefing area.  A man with a megaphone told us what would happen at the start and then we headed out onto the pontoon to get ready.  As we walked out, I suddenly felt very emotional, as I remembered why I was doing the race and all the work I'd put in to get me to that point.  We were allowed to sit on the pontoon with our feet in the water for a couple of minutes before being told we could lower ourselves in.  This is where it all went a bit wrong for me - I slipped as I was lowering myself and ended up more or less catapulting myself into the water, going a full two feet under the surface and eventually surfacing coughing and spluttering and with water up my nose.  James said later that he wondered what had happened to me as I was there one second and not the next.  In the end, I was alright and grabbed the pontoon as required a little while before the thirty second warning.  The ten second warning was sounded and then we were off!

We had been told by many a seasoned triathlete to expect a washing machine churn of arms and legs as we set off, with people swimming straight over others and doing everything they could to get an advantage.  It turned out that, in this instance, either we were so strung out along the pontoon that we couldn't get near enough to swim over people or none of us was competitive enough to be bothered about barging others out of the way.  In fact, the only person who barged me at all was James.  I decided not to barge back as it would be a waste of energy!  After the first 20 metres or so the split between the speedy front-runners and us not-so-speedy triers became evident and that was pretty much how it stayed for the rest of the swim.  One of the Sikh guys had to grab on to a kayak near the first buoy, but he made it in the end.  Otherwise, I didn't see anyone in any particular difficulty and we all made it back to the pontoon and up the ramp into the next phase, transition 1.

The way the timing system works is that as soon as you leave the water there is a timing mat that your timing chip communicates with, which means that from that moment the system is timing your transition time, until you cross the bike start mats.  This includes the run from the water to the transition area, which is something I hadn't trained for and wished I had.  The run was 300m in a wetsuit that you're trying to take off, barefoot and on a slippery blue carpet.  This took me a while.  Once I got into transition, I ran back to my bike and got the bottom half of the wetsuit off very, very easily (thanks to the Bodyglide) and then set about putting on my socks and cycling shoes, gloves, glasses, helmet and Marie Curie vest.  The one thing I forgot to do at this point was have a drink of water. D'oh.  I grabbed my bike and set off to the cycle exit from the transition area and ran down to the mount line (remember Jonny Brownlee in the Olympics? - I wasn't going to make that mistake!) to get onto my bike - then I was off.

We had been told that the bike course was flat.  This was lies.  It is fair to say that it wasn't mountainous or even particularly hilly, but it definitely (definitely) wasn't flat.  I headed out down Serpentine Road and then along the bottom edge of the park, round the corner over Serpentine Bridge and then heard someone shouting my name - it was James coming back the other way, about half a lap ahead of me.  I made it to the first turning point, near Speakers' Corner and negotiated my way around the 180 degree turn - the bit I'd been dreading.  I headed back along the return part of the lap, past the fantastic Marie Curie supporters and navigated around the other 180 degree turning point at the end of the first lap - this one felt much tighter and I only just made it.  I passed James again in more or less the same place, so I must have been just about keeping pace with him, even though I appeared to have given him a head start.  After the second lap, I headed back up Serpentine Road towards the transition and heard another person shouting my name - it was my friend Cecile, who had just arrived to support us.  I stopped just before the dismount line (the chap behind me got it wrong and went over the line - I don't know what happened to him) and ran back into the transition area.

Once in transition, having racked my bike, my first priority was to have a drink and an energy sweet.  That accomplished, I switched shoes, took off my helmet, glasses and gloves and swivelled my number belt around so that my race number was on my front, then headed for the run exit, just after which I saw Cecile again and gave her a massive high five.  After a couple of hundred metres, I realised I was in trouble.  I think that sitting on the bike for a while after swimming had taken its toll on my lower back and I found that I had a pain just above the base of my spine.  Walking didn't really hurt so much, but running did.  I carried on walking a bit and running a bit for the rest of the first kilometre or so and then, all of a sudden, it eased off and I was able to run the rest of the way.  Just after I'd got my mojo back, I shocked some Spanish speaking supporters (who were supporting everyone, but in Spanish) by thanking them, in Spanish, for their support.  On this part of the course, I was heading more or less due west along the southern side of the Serpentine and, given the time of day and the time of year, the sun was full in my face for that whole long stretch.  I was overheating a bit, but thankfully respite was just around the corner (literally) in the form of the shade of some trees.  I went past the Marie Curie supporters again, who were all shouting my name, which was written on my vest and printed on my race number, and blowing whistles.  Once I'd got over the Serpentine Bridge, I turned right towards the finish.

Just finished - that "laugh
or cry" moment.

As I drew level with the grandstand, the finish line commentators clocked me and gave me a shout out, which was very sweet of them, but they weren't done with me yet.  I saw James and Cecile shouting for me at the turning point into the finishing straight, and as I turned in, the commentators started interrogating me - they announced my (full) name, the crowd were cheering, I was waving, and then they asked me if it was my first triathlon.  Frankly, at this point, I had no idea.  In fact, if they hadn't just told me who I was, I don't think I'd have known.  My brain kicked in and I managed a thumbs up and as I crossed the line with my arms raised in victory, they shouted in unison "You are a triathlete!"

Then I promptly burst into tears.  Bearing in mind that I'm not allowed to watch the London Marathon or any Olympic medal ceremonies on the television any more because I'm such a sap, this was not entirely surprising.  Fortunately, there was an ambulance lady just after the finish line who, having established that I was physically OK, gave me a big hug.  She is awesome.

The Lambrusco, pretzel and Ribena party (with Matilda).

I somehow got myself around the corner to get my medal, have my timing chip removed and then have my picture taken with a big cheesy grin by the event photographers.  I met James and Cecile and then we were off to find our bags and bikes.

We finished the day with a lovely picnic in the park with our friends Cecile, Matilda, Anna and Céline, who had all brought food for us and, in Cecile's case, Lambrusco.  Oh yes, classy beings that we are, we were drinking mini-bottles of Lambrusco, from the bottle, on a park bench. Cecile said she only just stopped short of getting straws...

We spent a while watching the inline skaters doing their tricks on Serpentine Road, but soon it was starting to get dark and chilly and it was time to go home.  We headed for the London Hilton, just across Park Lane and managed to get both of us, all our kit and both of our bikes into the back of a black cab at the taxi rank, thanks to the extremely accommodating driver, who knew exactly how to fit everything and everyone in and wasn't at all fazed by the situation.  Soon enough, we were home and sleepy.  A very long day.

Quite a lot of things surprised me about the event - the main one was how spread out everyone was on the cycle course, as I'd expected it to be a lot busier.  Another was that to finish the cycle in the time I managed, I must have been going at twice the speed of my average commute (although I wonder whether I was faster or slower than the person who reportedly did the cycle on a Boris bike).  I finished in 176th place in the women's open super sprint and in 35th place in my age group in a little over an hour and a half.

Several people have asked me what's next. The first thing is, of course, the London to Brighton Bike Ride, which is now less than two weeks away. After that, we'll see.  So far today, three opportunities have presented themselves - another triathlon, a longer open-water swim and playing American football (no, I'm not even joking).  Other suggestions are, of course, welcome!

Today, I feel surprisingly OK, although a little tired and a bit achy.  I'm anticipating that, as is usually the way, I will be a lot more achy tomorrow.  Whoopeedoo.

If you haven't had the chance yet to sponsor us (or you wanted to wait to see if we'd do it!!), it's definitely not too late.  Our fundraising page will be open for a while yet at www.justgiving.com/bbjatriathlon, so you can go there at your leisure to make a donation to Marie Curie Cancer Care.

Classy Lambrusco in the park, with Cecile (why am I
clutching those pretzels for dear life?)

James and I would both like to thank everyone who has supported us during this journey, whether by making a donation, by sending us a message, by asking us about our training or simply by thinking of us - it means a lot to us and we couldn't have done it without you!

Only one more sleep to go!

Today was a registration day.  We got up this morning and went to Hyde Park to pick up all our bits and bobs ready for tomorrow.  The first thing I had to navigate was having entered the triathlon in my married name and having photo ID in my maiden name.  I decided to take our marriage certificate with me in case there were any issues, but it turned out that taking my husband was sufficient.

It was great to go and have a look at the course and the transition area today so that we have a vague idea of where we're going tomorrow. The elite races were on today, although when we were there it was the corporate relays that were going on.  That said, there were quite a few GB athletes wandering about (in kit) from all different age groups, warming up and getting ready for their races later in the day.

The "blue chicken"

We had a bit of walk around the expo and James got his last bits and pieces from one of the stalls, then we had to head home as I had a rehearsal this afternoon.  Now we're home and sorting everything out because I have to play the organ at church tomorrow morning, so we won't have too much time to get ready after that and before we need to set off.

I've written my name in my wetsuit, pumped up my tyres (not that they needed much) and found all my kit.  Now the main thing is to work out which stickers need to be affixed to which bits of me and my bike! James, on the other hand, has been spending quite a long time trying to figure out how to put on his race-day swimming hat.  So far we've had the "blue chicken" and the "utterly inept".  I'm looking forward to being able to share the "properly on the head" at some point in the future.

The "utterly inept"

Just about all there is left to do at this point is wait until we go to the park tomorrow - I'd actually rather do it all now than go through the waiting, but wait we must!  I keep going through everything in my head - how I'm going to wait for everyone else to get away on the swim, how I'm going to be super-speedy on my bike, how my transitions are going to pan out.  I'm not thinking about the run, though.  I try not to think about running.

This time tomorrow, we will have finished and will hopefully be enjoying a well-deserved picnic in the park.  If you'd like to sponsor my triumphal sausage roll, there's still time to do so by going to www.justgiving.com/bbjatriathlon and donating a few quid to Marie Curie Cancer Care.

One Week to Go!

This time next week, I'll be putting on my tri-capris, packing my wetsuit and making sure I have the requisite number of shoes - it will be race day!!

I can't believe how quickly it has come around.  This weekend, I should be making my final preparations, making sure my transitions are smooth and putting in that last little bit of training.  Instead, I'm stuck indoors with a hideous cold and I feel rather like someone's shut my head in a washing machine.  Some might say that this is actually very good training for the start of the swim, where the number of flailing arms and legs means that the churning water resembles something along the lines of an old-fashioned twin-tub.  However, my view is that I want to be out on my bike but I can't even think about walking for more than about ten minutes without feeling woozy.

The good news is, of course, that these things are usually quite short-lived and having it now rather than this time next week is definitely better.  I'm not sure that helps my mood much, but I think I am now over the worst of it and anticipate feeling a lot better tomorrow, and possibly ready for a bit of training.

If you haven't had a moment to sponsor me for the triathlon yet, it's definitely not too late.  I'm doing it to raise money for Marie Curie Cancer Care in memory of my Uncle Donald and you can help me by making a donation on my Justgiving page at www.justgiving.com/bbjatriathlon.  Thank you for all your support!

A service with a smile

Today is a cycling day.  Well, sort of.  I'm still trying to pretend I'm not ill while suffering immensely with a horribly cough (and, now, you'll be pleased to hear, the occasional sneeze), but there was a more pressing health need than my own at stake today.

After getting up early to vote this morning, I got on my bike and cycled down to the gatehouse to the reservoir where I went swimming a couple of weeks ago and dropped it off with Jon at BikeMech for a service.  In 10 days' time (gulp!) my bike will need to go through a (probably quite rudimentary) safety check on the way into the triathlon transition area and, as it hasn't ever had any work done on it or been looked at from a technical perspective by anyone other than me, James and the nice guy who fixed my toe clip a couple of weeks ago, I figured it was probably about time that someone cast a professional eye over it.

Over all, it wasn't in bad shape, but my perennial gear problem has been playing up a bit lately and I also had an issue with the front mudguard (mostly that it was held on by one bolt when it should have four, and the wires that were supposed to hold it on were all bent the wrong way from it being folded).

I rolled up to the workshop just after it opened and was greeted by Jon's beautiful dog, who keeps him company while he works.  Having made a new friend, I knocked on the door and poked my head around to find a tardis-like set-up that the Doctor would be proud of - tools and parts as far as the eye could see (which wasn't very far, but you get my drift) and there were at least three bikes in there as well.

After Jon had taken my details, I left my "baby" with him and caught the bus to work.  It always seems a bit odd when one has cause to go on public transport with a cycle helmet and bag but without a bike.  I got some very funny looks.

This evening I left work a little early to go and pick the bike up.  The dog was snoozing this time, and Jon had the bike all ready.  I gave it a quick spin up to the filter station and back and the improvement was enormous - it just feels, well, better.  The gears are smooth, the brakes are good and, importantly, my front mudguard no longer flaps about in the wind.  The cost of all this fine tuning?  £25.  I was amazed at how little it was.  I shall be returning.

The Money Shot

I promised faithfully, some time ago, that upon reaching £100 of donations for Marie Curie Cancer Care I would post a photo of me in my oh-so-glamorous (and ever-so-slightly-stripey) swimming hat.

Well, dear reader, that day has finally come.  Today, our fundraising total hit £115, thanks to a generous donation from a work colleague, and so here it is - the Money Shot - my swimming hat pic.

I think it's particularly attractive as I seem to have managed to contort my eyebrow into a strange position by sticking it to my hairline with the hat; trust me, I can't do that unaided by silicon!

Just because we've reached this mini-milestone along the way doesn't mean it's too late for you to donate if you haven't yet had the chance - you never know what picture you might get if we hit £200....!  The button to get to our Justgiving page is on the right hand side - click it and follow the instructions.  Thanks once again for all your support!

Where have I gone?

The Sidley Singers at the Legal
Harmony choral competition

Yeah, I know, I went missing again.  This time, life got in the way and that meant that last week was a rest week.  The combination of singing in a choral competition at Southwark Cathedral, having to finish making a quilt for a retiring vicar and my husband's birthday meant that I didn't have any time at all to do any training - all those early mornings that I would have been swimming or cycling were spent in my loft stitching and all my evenings were taken up with netball, more quilting, the choral competition itself and a birthday party.


My plan was, therefore, to get back on the bike and back in the pool (and, I suppose, back into my running shoes) this week to prepare myself for the triathlon, which is now less than two weeks away.  However, now I have another problem - I'm ill.  I have a cough-type thing which is really annoying and is probably only going to get worse if I start exerting myself too much.  I've figured that I'd rather do the triathlon and be slightly under-prepared than try training too much while ill and not make it to race day.  I will be doing a bit, but given that I should be into my taper now anyway, I won't be overdoing it.

The Quilt

It seems, therefore, that now is a good time to be reminding both myself and you why it is that I'm putting myself through all this.  As I have mentioned before, the reason I initially entered the triathlon was that I wanted to do something to support my Uncle Donald, who was suffering from oesophogeal cancer.  He was still at home at that point and my parents were caring for him, but he was deteriorating and had to go into hospital soon after.  Because I live and work so far away from the family home, and also because of the very nature of his illness, I felt like I wasn't able to actually do anything to make it better.  Therefore, I hit on the idea of raising some money for Marie Curie Cancer Care, a charity that our family may ultimately have needed to use the services of in one way or another.  As it happened, Uncle Donald's condition deteriorated very quickly and he died in hospital on 12 March, before we had been in contact with Marie Curie.

Marie Curie provide home nurses and hospice care to patients who are at the end of their lives.  They enable people to be cared for in the place that they wish, whether that be in their own home or in a specialist environment.  In addition, they provide invaluable support to families and carers, giving advice and encouragement and just generally being there to call on when needed.  It must take an extremely special kind of person to be an end of life care nurse - this is something I had first hand experience of witnessing in the hospital where my uncle spent his last weeks; although they were not Marie Curie nurses, their job is similar, and I could not believe the amount of understanding, compassion, care, cheerfulness and love they showed to their patients.  These people deserve our support for the amazing job that they do, and one of the ways that we can support them is by donating money.

This is why I decided to do the triathlon - I would be extremely grateful if you could show your support for my efforts by making a donation to Marie Curie Cancer Care.  You can do that by going to this page, clicking the "donate" button and following the instructions.  Thank you all for being with me on this journey.

Swim-distancegate and the cut-off time saga

Today is a rest day.  It isn't supposed to be a rest day, but I'm out tonight, straight from work, for my netball team end of season dinner, so kit management was going to be too difficult for me to train as well.  I'll do something tomorrow - I'm not sure what, but something.

However, in the last couple of days, there has still been stuff going on.  The main thing has been the publication of the start times and race numbers for all the competitors in the WorldTri London triathlon, along with the Competitor Guide (which has in it all of the info about where to be and when). So, at 17:00 on Sunday, 1 June, I shall be starting my first triathlon in Wave 61, wearing a blue swimming hat and sporting number 5395. James will be starting at the same time, with similar headgear, and number 5394.  Needless to say, if you're around in London that day and would like to cheer us on, make your way to Hyde Park as it would be great to see a few friendly faces!!

Some of the things that the Competitor Guide does are to set out exactly how many laps you have to do in each discipline and, crucially, how far each of the three triathlon distances is and what the cut-off times are (i.e. the time you have to complete the triathlon within, else they might pull you off the course and not let you finish).  When we signed up for the super sprint distance, the website said (and still does say), quite clearly, that the swim distance is 400m.  This is what we've been training for and, as I've found out in the last couple of days, what all the other super sprinters have been training for, too.  However, in the Competitor Guide, consistently throughout, the swim is referred to as being one lap of 500m.  That would represent an increase in the swim distance of 25%.  That's a lot further.

In addition, we had been told at sign-up that the cut-off time for the super sprint distance would be 1.5 hours.  While this is certainly achievable for me, it could have got a little on the tight side in the event that I got my leg stuck in my wetsuit or, for example, had to swim 500m instead of 400m.  In the Competitor Guide, however, the cut-off is set at an absolute time of 7 p.m., regardless of what your start time is - for me, with a 5 p.m. start time, this means that I would have an extra half an hour to complete the race, which would take off a huge amount of pressure (during my marathon training I learned to live in abject terror of the sweeper bus); for those with a later start, though, this would mean they might have five or ten minutes less time to finish.

There were a number of other errors in the Guide as well (such as a reference to the event being on 1 May and the number of laps for the sprint distance being put in for the super sprint), but the swim distance and cut-off times seemed to be the main issue.

The super sprinters, including me, very quickly took to social media - first of all to verify among ourselves that our understanding of 400m swim and 1.5 hour cut-off was consistent (which it was), and then to try to get some answers on how far we needed to be swimming and, effectively, how fast.  There were many, many tweets and facebook messages to the organisers asking for clarification and several people said they had e-mailed as well (which I also did).  Eventually, last night, someone got a response to an e-mail and posted it on facebook - the swim is 400m and the cut-off is about 7 p.m. but they aren't going to enforce it too rigidly.  Result.  The cut-off time saga is over.  Swim-distancegate is resolved.  As you were.

Water Music

Today is a swimming day.  My journey to the pool was, thankfully, less traumatic than for my equivalent swim last week - the tube strike has been called off, so I was able to get the train with no trouble at all.  However, I woke up this morning with an earworm - for the uninitiated, a tune in my head that won't go away.  Unfortunately, I can't tell you what my earworm was (in fact, still is!) because it is part of a top secret programme!  We have a choir where I work and we have entered the Legal Harmony Choral Competition, which is taking place at Southwark Cathedral next week.  We'll be competing against six other law firms and barristers' chambers and will be performing three pieces in the competition.  I'll let you know how we get on!

When I got to the pool, the earworm was still ringing around my brain and, as I was swimming up and down the pool, I realised that I was swimming in time with the music in my head and that this meant I was swimming very, very fast (for me, that is - I hadn't suddenly morphed into the Thorpedo).  As this was such fun, I tried it with one of the other pieces we're rehearsing and found that it was too slow and I wasn't really going anywhere, so I tried the third - an utter disaster!  This piece has a very syncopated rhythm, which meant that I was all over the place; I couldn't work out which arm I should be moving when and I must have looked pretty strange to anyone watching.  I decided that it would probably be best if I went back to the original tune and ended up finishing my swim much earlier than I had anticipated.

The other thing about today's swim was how warm the water was - it was the same temperature as normal, but compared to the Baltic conditions at the reservoir on Sunday, it was positively balmy!  Beginning to swim in the pool felt like swimming on a feather bed of water - soft and warm and cosy.  I'd better not get too used to it!

The session today was a relatively easy one: 2 x 120m breaststroke warm-up, followed by a main session of 240m front crawl, 180m front crawl arms only and 180m front crawl and then a cool-down of 60m breaststroke and 60m best stroke front crawl.  This added up to a total of only 1.08km, taking my swimming grand total to 14.48km.

On the way to the pool this morning, the sun was shining and it was warm enough not to bother with a coat.  I hadn't looked at the weather forecast and assumed it would be the same all day.  When I left the swimming pool, though, it was absolutely tipping it down, which, although my hair was already wet, was less than excellent.  It's sunny again now, though.  The rain made the market at Whitecross Street seem even more alive and colourful this morning - I love that walk to work, even in the rain!

Whitecross Street Market in the
early morning rain

Doing the Lambeth Walk

Today is a cycling day.  It is also the day chosen by my friend Farah to host our little group of flamenco buddies at her house for lunch.  Farah lives in Clapham.  You can see where this is going.

Clapham is pretty much diametrically opposite Harringay on a map of London, over ten miles away.  I knew roughly where Farah's house was, but I had no idea of how to get there by road, so I asked Google Maps for cycling directions.  I should have thought twice about relying on them when the first part of the journey, while probably the shortest route, was a really silly way to go.  I set out from home probably half an hour later than I had intended and cycled my usual route down to Newington Green and then went the same way I had to get to the London Metropolitan Archives a few weeks ago, to Rosebery Avenue.  After that, I turned onto Farringdon Road which, it being a bank holiday, was utterly deserted, and then went under Holborn Viaduct and up to Ludgate Circus.

The next part of my journey entailed me doing something I'd never done before - riding over the River Thames.  Although it has been quite a warm day, there has been a strong breeze, so I was slightly concerned about how windy it might be on Blackfriars Bridge.  However, the rail bridge (which now has Blackfriars Station actually on it) shelters the road bridge somewhat, so it was fine from that perspective, but it also shields the downstream view from the road bridge user, which is a shame!

Once over the river, it was a straight ride down to St. George's Circus, which is a roundabout at which I knew I needed to turn right onto Lambeth Road.  What the directions hadn't told me, however, was that one can only get onto Lambeth Road at St. George's Circus if one approaches from the south.  Having figured out that to get onto the northbound carriageway I would have to do an illegal U-turn or stop on a red route, I opted for turning left down a side street, dismounting and walking across the road.  In all this excitement, I entirely missed Lambeth Road and ended up on Waterloo Road instead - completely the wrong direction.  This meant that I had to go back to St. George's Circus and repeat the whole performance of side street and walking before I eventually got myself onto the right road, to be rewarded with the pleasure of seeing the Imperial War Museum - a building which, in spite of nearly 12 years living in the capital and many visits as a child, I had never seen in the flesh before.  The museum is housed in one of the former homes of the Bethlehem Hospital, or Bedlam as it's perhaps better known, and I think the juxtaposition of a lunatic asylum against a museum of the history war is an interesting one.

The rest of the directions proved to be correct, although I would have preferred to go down the busy main roads than cycle along the pedestrian-riddled Riverside Walk.  I carried on past Battersea Dogs and Cats Home (our Ozzy's alma mater) and turned left onto Queenstown Road.  It was at this point that I came to the conclusion that the whole of South London is uphill.  From this point, it was just a few streets to my destination, and I arrived a little warm and only about an hour after I had intended.

I hadn't decided when I set out whether I would cycle back or get the train (it's fine to take bikes on the London Overground), but mention of the Tube strike that started this evening and is scheduled to carry on until Thursday made up my mind - if I cycled back, I would probably be too broken by the end of it to consider doubling up swimming and cycling tomorrow, or even on Wednesday, but that would be necessary if I'm to do any swimming before Friday; I don't want a repeat of last week's fiasco where I couldn't get on the train and had to go swimming in the evening, as I'm just not going to have time for that this week.

So, having spent a lovely afternoon with my pals from ten years of flamenco dancing, I walked with Ayesha to Clapham Junction to get the Overground to Willesden Junction, then changed for a train to Gospel Oak and then changed again to get to Harringay Green Lanes - with all the waiting for trains and the walk at both ends, it would have been quicker to cycle, even with getting lost.  On the other hand, I was pretty much falling asleep standing up on the train on the way back, so I think I made the right decision!  That meant that today's cycle was 17.90km, taking my total to 155.36km.

While I was waiting for the train at Willesden Junction, there was a chap on the platform who also had a bike with him.  He was an older Irish gentleman who I believe had been at the happy juice.  I was standing in front of my bike, against a wall and the chap came up to me and in a moment of remarkable lucidity asked me if it was a folding bike and how it worked.  Always happy to shock passers by with a demonstration of folding my full-size bike in half, I obliged and he thanked me and went to have a conversation with the departures board.

Before I go, my friend Claire alerted me to this fantastic reminder for all you other lady cyclists out there.  It's a list from 1895 of the things that lady cyclists shouldn't do.  I have managed to fall foul of a significant number of these just this weekend - I went to church in my bicycling costume (considering the alternative was going in my wetsuit, I think this was a good result), I have boasted of my long rides, and I wore laced boots, to mention but a few.  Enjoy!

Swim, Bike...Pray!

Ah, I love the smell of neoprene in the morning!  The title of this post is apt in two ways.  The first is that it sums up, very succinctly, my attitude to the running part of the triathlon.  The second is that it sums up my morning today.

I was up at the crack of dawn today (OK, it was already light, but 7 a.m. is the crack of dawn on a Sunday) to go to an open water swimming coached session at West Reservoir in Hackney.  The session started at 8.30 a.m. and is sufficiently close to our house that the quickest way to get there and back at that time on a Sunday morning was to cycle.   The session was an hour long, so we were a bit tight on time to get to the other thing I do on Sunday mornings - play the organ at my local church.  And so it was that I packed my newly-acquired wetsuit into my panniers, hopped on my bike and cycled to the reservoir.

You may have gathered from my liberal use of the word "we" that I was not alone.  James had also signed up for the session and I had assumed as I was cycling along that he would be right behind me. Apparently not - James had been running yesterday, like a good boy, and the resultant sore legs meant that he was struggling to keep up with me.  This was the first time we had cycled anywhere together since last summer and I realise now that it felt very different because I am no longer reliant on him to protect me on the big, bad road.  We look out for each other, of course, but I don't feel like a pupil any more and now feel like I can just do it all by myself.

The buoy in the foreground is the first, then the one on
the right, then the one on the left...

We got to the reservoir very early, which was just as well, as I had to get the wetsuit on.  We had never been to West Reservoir before, although I pass it on my way to work every time I cycle.  At the entrance to the lane that leads to it is a castle-shaped Victorian water pumping-station which now houses The Castle Climbing Centre.  Once along the lane, there is an old filter house which now houses a café, changing rooms and conference facilities, along with storage for various water sports paraphernalia.  The reservoir, along with its companion (and equally imaginatively named) East Reservoir, was installed in the 19th century to deal with the water that flows into the capital from the New River.  West Reservoir is no longer used by the water companies, so you can rest assured that I haven't been swimming in your cup of tea, but it is host to a wide range of activities, including kayaking and canoeing, sailing and, of course, open water swimming.

...then the last buoy and the base jetty on the far left.

We had no idea what to expect from the session, but once we were into our wetsuits, we went out onto the decked shore of the reservoir and started to meet up with a few other people who would be in our session (including our friend, Claire, who had alerted us to the existence of the session in the first place).  It turned out we were toward the lower end of the age spectrum and James was in a minority from a gender perspective.  It seemed like quite a lot of people had never been open water swimming before and quite a few were a bit nervous about the whole thing.  We met our antipodean instructor, Rowan, and listened to a brief safety briefing ("do what the lifeguards in the kayaks tell you, get out if you don't feel right") - then it was time for the main event: actually getting in the water.

It was at this point that I had a momentary existential crisis.  I've never particularly liked swimming in open water.  An incident involving a jellyfish in Tunisia when I was ten put me off swimming in the sea and, other than a bit of snorkelling in Thailand and the odd crossing of the River Lune in Kirkby Lonsdale as a student, I've managed to avoid swimming in open water for most of my adult life.  In my triathlon dream world, it was all going to be plain sailing and swimming in a lake would be just like swimming in a pool, so the harsh reality of being about to lower myself gently into a freezing cold reservoir that early in the morning was a bit of a rude awakening and I had a minor panic.  Somehow, I just kept going into the water, though.  My mind had decided that this was what I was doing now and that was that, completely overriding my emotional reaction.  Going into the water was a really strange experience.  It was very, very cold, and I felt it on my feet as I walked in from the edge down the ramp, but then as I kept going I was very conscious of my cold feet until I realised that I was nearly chest-deep in water and no other bits of me were cold - obviously, this was down to the wetsuit.

Once we were all fully in (there was quite a bit of "ah, ah, ah, it's cold, ah, ah" going on), Rowan, who was on the side, wearing a lifejacket (I never did decide whether this was reassuring or terrifying), got us to do some breathing exercises to get us used to putting our faces in the water.  To be perfectly honest, I felt a bit like my face was so cold it would crack in two, but after a few goes, I was used to it.  In a wetsuit, you can more or less float upright because it improves your buoyancy so much, but I was having difficulty transitioning between not upright and upright because my legs were so buoyant that I couldn't push them down under the water! We did a bit of a swim across the dock area, and the group naturally split into two - fast and not quite so fast.  Rowan sent off the faster group to do a lap of the buoys set out in the swimming area while the rest of us did a few more drills.  Then it was our turn to set out on a lap.  Rowan told us that we didn't have to go the whole way around all the buoys, we could head back in when we wanted, and we should feel free to have a rest when we needed to.  Someone asked how far it was around all four and the answer was 400m.  So, that was it, I had to get all the way around, in order to prove to myself that I could swim the distance for my triathlon in open water.

Some boat thingies

It's worth mentioning at this point that there were people swimming in the reservoir who weren't part of our session - they were just going for a morning swim.  I set off on my lap and immediately went slightly off course.  Once I realised, I adjusted and then started to make sure that I was keeping in the right direction every now and then by putting in a couple of strokes of breaststroke.  As I rounded the first of the four buoys, another swimmer, not part of our group, overtook me and then went off on a completely different trajectory from the one required to get to the next buoy.  Hot on his heels was one of the lifeguard kayakers, who had to cross my path to get to the other swimmer.  The kayak was quite a way ahead of me, but it did make me a little bit nervous for a moment.  On I kept with my mostly crawl with a peppering of breaststroke, around the other buoys, until I got overtaken by a much faster swimmer.  Then it hit me - I'd been lapped.  I could tell by the swimming hat that it was the same guy who'd struck out on his own before!

I finished my lap alongside a couple of other people in the group, but we were the last ones back.  I wasn't worried by that at all as it was my first time out, it was clear that some of the other swimmers in the group were very strong and, above all, I now know I can do it - I can swim 400m in open water without stopping!  I don't know how far we swam other than the 400m lap, so I'll just count that, and my swimming total is now 13.40km.

We still had a bit of time left in the session and some people set off for another lap, but quite a few of us decided to call it a day at that point.  In the changing room, there was quite a bit of chatter about why people were there.  A couple just wanted to give open water swimming a go, but most were triathletes or triathletes-to-be and one lady is even doing the same race as me.  The slightly early finish meant we even had time for a cup of tea before setting off for church.  The cycle back was a bit more strenuous than on the way - partly because of the tiredness from swimming, but mainly because it's uphill nearly all the way back!

The sessions run every week at the reservoir, and I'm sure we'll be back for more at some point.  They are run by Capital Tri, in case you're interested!

Burning the Candle at Both Ends

Today is a swimming day.  I have to admit that getting out of bed this morning was extremely difficult.  I had a very long and difficult negotiation meeting yesterday as part of my job, which took far more out of me than I had anticipated (the fact that it lasted twice as long as scheduled didn't help).  In any case, I did haul myself upright, into clothes and onto the train which, thankfully, was on time and not full to the rafters (do trains have rafters?) this morning.  However, something went wrong on the way as I ended up getting to the pool ten minutes later than normal (the train may have been slow, or I may have been slow) and spent the entire swim panicking about whether I was going to complete my session in time to get to work.

I started off in the slow lane this morning.  The pool wasn't very busy, but there were enough people in the medium lanes that adding me would have made them a bit crowded.  I did my 4 x 60m warm up and then did 4 x 30m of those horrible side crawl kicks.  This time, I was prepared and didn't back into the wall or scrape anything on the lane ropes.  The main part of the session was supposed to be 500m front crawl without stopping, but because of the 30m pool and the resultant odd number (17) of lengths to get over the 500m mark, I actually swam 540m of front crawl without stopping.  Then it was onto 5 x 60m front crawl with 15 second breaks (for which I moved up to the medium lane), followed finally by 60m of breaststroke and 60m of best stroke front crawl as a cool down.

I felt like I could have swum forever today.  Then I looked at the clock and realised I nearly had been swimming for ever and I'd better get a shift on.  My total distance this morning was another massive 1.32km, which takes my overall distance for swimming a gigantic (and very precise) 13.00km.

My fundraising, however, isn't quite going as well at the moment as my training!  The triathlon is less than a month away now, so it would be really great if you could give me some motivation to keep going by clicking the Justgiving link on the right hand side of the page and sponsoring me for the triathlon by making a donation to Marie Curie Cancer Care - we're not far off the threshold for that swimming hat picture now; could you be the one who makes sure it happens?

On Wednesday, after all the trials and tribulations of my cycle into work, I had an amazing ride home.  As usual, I forgot to start my watch until a little way into the ride, but it wasn't all that far in.  My ride home usually takes me between 35 and 40 minutes, depending on the traffic and whether I get stuck at traffic lights and so on.  On Wednesday, it took me 28 minutes.  I put this down to the new shoes giving me more power transfer and making me more efficient as for there to be that much of a difference all of a sudden, it can't just be down to my improved fitness.  The ride home was 7.42km, taking my total distance on the bike to 137.46km.

Tomorrow is a rest day, as I have exciting training plans for Sunday and Monday, so check back then to see what I've been up to!

Angels and Demons

Today is a cycling day.  Let me start with last night, though.  After I got home from swimming, the first order of the evening was to do a bit of work on my bike (actually, that's a complete lie - the first order of the evening was to Pronto Pizza...).  Some time ago, I had bought some toe clips for my pedals, but I hadn't quite got around to (or got up the nerve to) put them on.  With only a month to go from tomorrow until the triathlon, I decided it was now or never and put them on.  First, I had to find my multi-tool with the right allen key on it to do up the bolts.  I had left it on the table by the turbo trainer in order to be able to retrieve my saddle and seat post and put them back on my bike, but it had somehow disappeared.  During the period that it must have disappeared in, James was the only one to use the turbo trainer.  That is all I have to say on the matter.

My beautiful new cycling shoes!

It was no problem, though - I just nicked James's multi-tool from his saddle pack, got my saddle back on my bike and then set about putting the toe clips on.  An easy enough job, just two bolts per clip through the holes that are already in the front of the pedal.  Yesterday, following a whole day of James waxing lyrical about his new cycling shoes, I succumbed and went to Cycle Surgery (again) to have a look at some for myself.  I bought the cheapest pair in the shop, which the sales guy and I agreed were the right ones for what I wanted them for.  I was a little bit hesitant about trying out both new toe clips and new shoes on the same trip, but then figured that as far as I am concerned they are effectively one piece of equipment and it would be better to do it all in one go than to have to get used to the toe clips and then use them with different shoes, or vice versa.

I decided that trying out this new arrangement for the first time on a busy road would be a very stupid thing to do, so planned to walk my bike to Finsbury Park, spend the time I needed getting used to the new stuff and then, assuming I was coping alright, cycle to work (I didn't really have a plan B, but I'm guessing I would have gone home and changed and got the train).  When I got to the end of my road, I was exceedingly glad that I had decided to walk to the park as there was nose to tail traffic on Wightman Road from beyond my road right up to the junction with Endymion Road (probably about a 1km queue, all told), presumably because of the tube strike - on foot, I probably beat some of the cars.  Once in the park, I hopped on and gave it a shot.  I had completely mixed feelings about the results - on the one hand, I couldn't get my left foot into the clip at all (I always start with my right foot on the pedal), but on the other hand, it was a revelation how little effort was required to go quite fast.

The good thing about toe clips is that if you can't get your foot in, it doesn't really matter, so long as the clip doesn't touch the floor when your foot is on the other side of the pedal.  For this reason, I decided I would carry on to the office on the bike.  I set off down Green Lanes and made it up both hills with relative ease, even though I still hadn't sorted my left foot out.  Then, just as I was coming up to Newington Green (and when I had already moved into the right hand turn lane) two things happened.  The first was that I managed to get my left foot in the clip, just as I was coming up to a red light, of course.  The second was that something hit me in the right shin and I realised that it must have been one of the bolts from the right toe clip, which was hanging off the front of the pedal at a jaunty angle and, when the lights changed and I pushed off, began fouling the tarmac with every revolution - all this on an enormous, busy roundabout that I was turning right on.  I had to stop immediately, and I managed to get safely onto a pedestrian refuge (with much cursing, apologising and signalling).  I have no idea whether the problem was that I hadn't done it up tight enough (likely), that the front of the pedal being ever so slightly bent was causing it to undo (also likely) or that the bolt was faulty (less likely, but still possible), or maybe a combination of some or all of these things.

And then I saw it, like a gold aura-ed mirage on the other side of the road - PUSH Cycles.  I figured I had two choices here - I could either take off the offending toe clip and sort it out later, or I could pop into PUSH and see if they would sell me a bolt to replace the lost one.  I decided that if I didn't get it sorted straight away, I might write off the whole toe clip project and never get it sorted, so I went into PUSH (well, not actually inside, I just sort of hovered in the doorway) and asked the chap if he had a bolt that would fix my problem.  He took a look at it, went off and found a bolt, discovered it was too short, went off and found a longer one, fitted it, tightened the other bolt on that clip and then checked and tightened the ones on the left side as well - I asked him how much I owed him and he shrugged his shoulders.  I suggested that I would mention him in my blog as compensation for his time and the bolt and that went down well, so I went on my merry way.  It seems that at the moment I'm spending quite  a lot of time both in bike shops and telling the world how wonderful bike shops are, but this was special - such a nice man and such great service and kindness in helping me out.  I will definitely be revisiting PUSH.*

Once I'd walked round the remaining bit of Newington Green, I was back on my bike and had a fairly innocuous remainder of the journey (other than a 271 bus deciding to pull out in front of me from a side road - the 271 doesn't even usually go that way) until I got into the City and discovered that Moorgate was closed; the Crossrail project often causes road closures and you can never be sure whether a given road will be open at a particular time - it reminds me in some ways of the staircases moving about at Hogwarts.  However, this led to me finding a better route to the office by going straight across a junction I normally turn left at and then taking a left further on - much less busy and no buses.  I'm still a bit hit and miss on getting my left foot into the clip, but I was improving pretty consistently from Newington Green to the office, so I'm confident I'll get there.

I had started my watch when I got onto Green Lanes at the Manor House junction.  When I got to work, it said I had been going for 41 minutes - this included the time spent at the bike shop, walking around the remaining bit of Newington Green and getting stuck in traffic in the City, and I was amazed at how quick I'd been.  My average speed was only 6.4 mph (but I was stationary for probably about 5 or 7 minutes and walking for another 2 or 3), but my top speed was 19.4 mph.

The measured part of this morning's cycle was 7.08km, taking my cycling total to 130.04km.  Hopefully I'll have a less eventful journey on the way home!

*I should say here that PUSH Cycles is, of course, a business and is not in the habit of just giving away free stuff, so please don't try it on - it's a really nice shop run by nice guys, though, so do go and see them.  I should also say that I'm not in the habit of offering mentions on my blog in return for free stuff, so please don't try it on with me, either!!

Life in the Fast Lane

Today is a swimming day.  I got up early, as usual for a swimming day, got my act together and went to the station to get my usual train to the pool.  There is a tube strike today.  One of the reasons that James and I chose to live where we do is that we would not be reliant upon the tube to get to work.  We live very close to the mainline train line and, as a result, we are still able to get into the City when the Underground is not working.  This morning, however, both the train I normally get and the train after were so full that I could not physically get onto them.  I contemplated going home, unpacking and repacking everything and getting on my bike, turning it into a cycling day, but then realised that my saddle was still attached to the turbo trainer and I didn't know where my gloves were, so my turnaround time might not be that small.  I stuck to the train and got on the next one, which was reminiscent of a cattle truck, half an hour after the time of the train I was supposed to be getting.  This was too late for me to get my swim in before work, so I headed straight to the office and contemplated my next (training) move.

A chap I saw on Whitecross Street
I only ever walk the other way,
so I hadn't seen him before!

I had a look at the swimming pool website and ascertained that it would be open and not full of lessons, water polo or frogmen at the time I would be likely to leave work, so decided to go on the way home.  It was a little odd going the "wrong" way up Whitecross Street and through St. Luke's to the pool.  Once I was changed and in, I briefly regretted my decision as, at about 7.10 p.m., it was packed.  Every lane was full.  I started my warm up in the slow lane, doing 2 x 120m of breaststroke.  By the time I was half way through the first part of my main set (540m of arms only - it was supposed to be 5 x 100m, but it morphed into an odd patchwork of sets as I had to let others go before me and I swam an extra length because I needed to do an odd number, which would have made me finish in the deep end and would have been suboptimal) the pool had thinned out considerably and very few people were still there.

All of a sudden, the penny dropped - it was ladies' night (or, rather, a women only session) and all the men had left the pool at 7.30 p.m.; there was a blind down completely blocking the training pool from view so that those who are at an all-ladies session for religious or cultural reasons could be attended by an all-female staff and not seen by any male staff who happened to be around.  The main pool, however, even though the swimmers were all female, had a male lifeguard.  One poor chap had used the automatic check-in kiosk in the lobby (so didn't speak to any staff at the desk) and almost made it into the pool before the lifeguard told him he perhaps might feel out of place in all-female company.  He didn't look like he would be bothered, but left without a fuss.

The spread of swimmers in the pool was heavily weighted toward the slower end of the dolphin spectrum and, when I finished my arms-only set, I realised that while the double-width slow lane was reasonably busy, the two medium lanes had only a couple of swimmers in each and the fast lane was home to a lone backstroker.  I also saw that the swimmers in the medium lanes weren't really going very fast at all so I thought "why not?" - I went in the fast lane.  Yes, the  fast lane!  I did 7 x 60m, alternating hard and easy effort, and I was going at a slightly faster pace than the backstroker, but we were about a length apart, so we passed each other midway down each length, but neither ever caught the other.  It was somewhat serendipitous.  I don't know if it will ever be repeated when chaps are in the pool, but I still feel like I've achieved something.  The last bit of my session was 4 x 30m (2 x breaststroke and 2 x best stroke front crawl).

Today's session highlighted the problem with training in a 30m pool as, in spite of a bit of scaling for the longer pool length, I ended up swimming significantly more than I was supposed to (10% more, in fact).  Today's tally was 1.32km, taking my total swimming sum to 11.68km!  Tomorrow is a cycling day, which may involve some more firsts - check back to find out what I've got planned!

Going the Distance

Finally, I've managed to say that I'm going to do something on a particular day and actually do it on that day!  Today was a swimming day.  In spite of all my ranting and raving about how much I disliked Clissold Leisure Centre the last time we went, we went there again on the grounds that it takes half the time to get there as it does to get to Ironmonger Row. (By the way, the reason the weather would have mattered in deciding where to go had we gone yesterday was that there was a "Pets in the Park" event at Clissold Park that we thought it might be nice to wander through before or after our swim, but we weren't going to be doing that if it was rainy (and so we would have gone to Ironmonger Row instead) and then we ended up going today after all, so the weather didn't matter.)

We wandered through the park on the way to the pool and saw the deer mooching about. Once we got to the pool, we were surprised at how quiet it was.  However, there were several groups of kids about - this is, generally speaking, not a problem at all but the main pool at Clissold is supposed to be lane swimming only and the lanes are clearly marked - the kids didn't seem to be interested in adhering to the lane-swimming etiquette and the pool attendant was more interested in trying to pick up her water bottle (which she'd dropped) with a long-handled water scoop without having to climb down from her lifeguard's (high) chair than she was in making sure that the pool rules were adhered to.  Thankfully, there was a shift change halfway through our swim and the new, fresh pool attendant was not taking any nonsense.  James spied her walking along the pool side swinging her whistle in an officious manner and knew immediately that she was going to do something about the kids, who by now had started bombing into the pool.  They were told, in no uncertain terms, that if any of them did anything they shouldn't again, then all of them would be thrown out of the pool. After that, swimming became a lot more pleasant.

I have to say that while the kids were annoying, I did think that with the pool being as generally quiet as it was, the staff could have given over one of the lanes to splashing about for confident swimmers (bearing in mind the pool is 2m deep the whole way across) - that said, at Clissold, you can't see what's going on in the training pool from the main pool (it even has separate changing rooms!), so I've no idea how busy it was and, hence, why these kids had chosen to go in the main pool instead.

Today's session was quite tough.  James decided to follow what I did (without having done the seven weeks of training I've already done).  He agreed that it was tough.  We started with 4 x 50m breaststroke as a warm up.  Then we were on to 4 x 25m crawl kicks - the only floats that were available for use looked like they had been hewn from the polystyrene blocks that protect new appliances in their boxes and then someone had chewed around the edges.  Then it was the main event.  This was the first time I had to swim the race distance of 400m without stopping.  Seven weeks ago I was dithering about whether I thought I could train myself to swim 400m of front crawl in the 3 months available and contemplating that it might be rather easier to just do breaststroke.  Today I swam 400m of front crawl without stopping, a full five weeks before the event.  In addition, I had already swum 300m before I even embarked on this bit of the session.  To say I'm feeling proud of myself is an understatement.

After the main set, I still had 3 x 100m arms only to do and then 50m breastroke and 50m best stroke front crawl.  Once that was done, I did another couple of lengths while waiting for James to finish what he was doing, taking today's tally to 1.15km and my overall swimming total to 10.36km.  Over 10km!  That's a blimming long way!  If you think my 10km of swimming deserves a reward of a few quid for Marie Curie Cancer Care, please click the Justgiving link on the right hand side of the page and make a donation - I'm not far off the £100 required for me to post that picture of me in my oh-so-flattering swimming hat...

Goddess of the Waves

Today was supposed to be a running day which morphed (by arrangement) into a swimming day, but it turned out that I got enough of a workout from going shopping (not even joking, read on), so we'll go swimming tomorrow instead.

You may recall that a friend had offered to lend me her wetsuit and trisuit for my triathlon.  Now, the same very kind friend alerted me this week to a coached open water swimming session that is happening next weekend and which she had already signed up for.  You may be starting to see where this is going.  One cannot go open water swimming in the UK in early May without a wetsuit, as the water is too cold and one would last two minutes before panicking and, potentially, dying.  Also, one cannot wear a wetsuit at the same time as someone else is wearing it.  Well, I suppose it is possible, but there are all sorts of issues involved that we won't go into now.  Therefore, if I was going to sign up for the coached session (which is clearly a Good Idea), I would have to find alternative wetsuit arrangements by a week from tomorrow.

Initially, I looked into the idea of hiring a wetsuit.  I discovered that while hire is reasonably priced, the addition of a hefty deposit would mean that my initial outlay would be about the same as buying an entry level  triathlon-specific wetsuit (which, if I decide I don't want to do another triathlon or open water swim ever again, I could potentially sell on after 1 June).  I then looked into entry level triathlon-specific wetsuits and where to buy them and discovered that the King's Cross branch of Cycle Surgery has recently introduced a range of triathlon products, including wetsuits, and that they had a wetsuit in the size I thought I would need at a price I was willing to pay.  James found himself also in need of a wetsuit, so we both made the trip into town this morning to go and have a look.

As a general rule, I am very distrustful of sales staff in shops that sell technical sports gear, on the basis that there is always something else you "need" to go with the six things they have already managed to sell you (only one of which - the thing you went in for - you actually need/want).  However, my faith in human nature was somewhat restored today when I found that the sales staff in Cycle Surgery were extremely helpful.  They didn't try to sell me something better/more expensive/shinier than I needed, but were very knowledgeable about the things I did want to look at.

I very quickly located the wetsuit I wanted to try on and went into the fitting rooms - James had been instructed to stand just outside in case I need some assistance.  Wetsuits are notoriously difficult to put on, especially when they are new.  The thing you have to remember when putting on a wetsuit is that it just needs to keep going up.  You have to get it up as far as it will go - on your legs, your arms, over your backside, everywhere - because once it is on, it won't go up any further, but it may move downwards.

There's that "sprint" word again.
I can assure you there won't be any of that going on.

It was at this point that I realised that my suspicions about why I'm not allowed to do the triathlon in my preferred reverse order (have I mentioned how much I hate running and I'd like to get it out of the way?) were totally accurate.  It took me about 15 minutes to get into the wetsuit from start to finish.  I only got completely stuck once, at the point when I'd got both arms in but couldn't move either of them enough to pull the suit up further around my shoulders.  At that point, I was sufficiently well covered to open the door and let James help me.  To give credit where it's due, he only laughed a little bit, and I wasn't sure whether it was more at how red my face was or at how stuck I had got myself.


Eventually, with a bit of help, I was in.  It was decided between me, James and the shop guy that the suit was the right size for me (they are supposed to be very tight on land) and the size up would be too big.  The size: WLA.  What does WLA stand for?  Apparently, it stands for "Women's Large Athena".  Yes, Athena.  I am going to be a goddess of the waves (actually, I'm hoping there won't be too many waves, but you get the idea).  Wetsuits are not known for being the most flattering of outfits, but I was reasonably pleased with my reflection, given that I was expecting it to look utterly hideous.  In any event, black is very slimming.

The real test of this exercise was how quickly I could get the thing off.  Surprisingly, considering how long it took me to put it on, the answer was about a minute and a half (and that was with a new suit when it and I were both dry - it's easier when wet).

There was no wetsuit on the rail in James's size, so there was a short interlude while the chap went to find one in the storeroom, and then we went through the entire process again.  I think James was a little quicker than me at getting the suit on, and he had probably learnt a bit from my mistakes so didn't get quite as stuck, although he did still need a bit of help with doing it up.  As I was zipping him up, he said that he imagined that this experience was a bit like wearing all-over Spanx.  He overheated as much as I did and, by the time he was out of it again, we were both exhausted.  I suggested that we would both have to factor extra energy into our nutrition plans to cover the amount we would expend putting on our wetsuits.

We hadn't just gone shopping for wetsuits - I also had my gait analysed and bought some new running shoes as mine are due for replacement and James bought some cycling shoes in the hope that the more rigid sole (than his trainers) would help him to win his battle with plantar fasciitis.

On the way home (Nandos may have been involved in the meantime), James mentioned again how slimming a wetsuit is.  I thought aloud that I might consider wearing one all the time because of this benefit and that it would probably look OK with a dress over the top (I wasn't really being serious, obvs).  I added, though, that it might be a bit weird.  James just looked at me and burst into fits of laughter.  "You think?" he said.

His 'n' hers.  Nice.

Multi-tasking

Today is a cycling day. Unfortunately, today is also a rainy day. Although this means that I did not cycle to work today, it does mean that I have been able to spend all of today being smug about my excellent decision-making skills as the sky has got darker and darker and the streets have got wetter and wetter.

It also means that I am now multi-tasking because, as I type, I am on the turbo trainer, getting in a few leg-revolutions.  You may recall that I have previously had issues with the turbo trainer due to the saddle being, essentially, like a bird's perch (although it was clearly made for blokes, not birds, which is another issue). Today, I finally managed to get round to switching the saddle with the one from my bike. This is much more comfortable, but it is a bit on the high side compared to what I'm used to - the seat post is much longer than the one on the trainer bike and won't sit all the way down into the frame. It's not too high though - my hips aren't moving up and down with the pedal rotation - it just feels a bit odd.

This session is giving me the opportunity to try to flush out last night's Speednet-related fatigue from my legs. I've found that as I've got fitter from a cardiovascular perspective, I've been moving a bit faster and more flexibly on the netball court, meaning that I've started to wake up aching the next day as I find a few more muscle groups I'd forgotten about.

Tomorrow we're going on an exciting adventure and then we're going swimming. Bizarrely, where we swim will depend on the weather - check back tomorrow and all will be revealed!

Mid-week Mayhem

Yesterday was a running day.  So I ran.  A lot.  At netball training.

I had intended to go running at lunchtime, but I got caught up doing something else and couldn't get out.  I thought that I would go after netball instead but a couple of things got in the way of that.  The first was that it was tipping it down with rain (not quite to the point where I was wondering whether I'd need to use my amazing swimming skills to get home, but sufficient to make me rue leaving my raincoat at home).  The second was that we played "versatility" in netball training last night.  If you know nothing about netball, this might be lost on you, but the principle is that you play whatever position you draw - the player bibs are thrown in the air and you grab one without looking and have to play the position on the bib you've grabbed.

Now, I usually play goalkeeper or goal shooter - these are positions which require little running and are all about jostling for position in a very small space.  However, I managed to get stuck at wing attack, centre and wing defence (all mid-court positions) in succession and spent a large part of the evening running from one end of the court to the other, especially as centre - I'm a slow enough runner that by the time I've reached where the ball is, it's already on its way back down the court.  I seem to recall this type of problem being what put me off playing (field) hockey altogether when I was at school.  I think I got put as centre half for several games lessons in a row and found it so frustrating that I never wanted to play ever again (and managed to get away with that other than the annual house hockey competition, where if you could move you were required to wield an offensive weapon (otherwise known as a hockey stick) for one afternoon a year).

Therefore, I did quite a lot of running - not the monotonous, boring plodding that I'm actually required to do, but enough to make me feel like going out running after my running would be overkill.  I've no idea how far I ran, but I can safely say it was a long way.

It seems I was right not to do even more running, as I woke up this morning with a twinge of my back problem from last week.  Enough to make me decide not to cycle today, but not enough to stop me from feeling guilty about not cycling today.  I will be cycling tomorrow, though, and not swimming - I'm going swimming on Saturday with James.  Although I'm still sticking to the training plan in over all spirit, it is becoming more and more difficult to do the right things on the right days.  I've decided it doesn't really matter as long I'm training the right amount and resting enough.

What's the swimming equivalent of a saddle?

Well, whatever it is, I'm back in it.  Ever since my epic trip to the London Metropolitan Archives, I've more or less been putting my feet up and doing just about nothing.  Last week was supposed to be a consolidation week, but I took it to the next level and, apart from a short (by today's standards - it was still 780m!) swim on Wednesday, didn't train for a whole week.

If I'm being honest, it was in part due to laziness and busyness in equal measure, but the main issue was that I had a bad back.  I think the problem was caused by overdoing it on the day I went to the LMA and the day before (all in all about 30km of cycling and 1km of swimming) and then not stretching properly.  After a couple of days of stretching and ibuprofen, it was OK and by Wednesday morning it felt good enough for a bit of a swim, but then I rested it for the rest of the week as a precaution.  This meant that by yesterday evening, I was climbing the walls at home (not literally, it would scare the cat), so it was a bit of a relief to eventually get in the pool this morning, even though I really didn't want to get out of bed when the alarm went off.

There were two very noticeable things about the pool this morning.  The first was that it was very, very quiet, which suited me very well; presumably a lot of folk are still on holiday or having to deal with "first day back" issues.  The second was that it was very dark - so dark, in fact, that they had to put the lights on.  The pool is normally lit naturally by a sky light that covers nearly the whole area of the pool.  Today is the first day since I've been training that it hasn't been sunny (or at least bright - it was foggy a couple of times), and it really makes a difference to the feel of the pool, and my mood on leaving.  The drizzle today is like the permadrizzle I recall from my student days in Manchester.

In any event, by the time I left the pool, I had done 4 x 60m breaststroke as a warm-up, then 300m with the pull buoy and 7 x 60m front crawl, followed by a couple of lengths each of breaststroke and front crawl as a cool down - another 1.08km chalked up.  When added to the 780m from last Wednesday, this takes my total distance swum up to 9.21km.  This means that next time I swim (most probably Friday), I'll be going over the 10km mark - please sponsor my milestone swim by hitting the Justgiving button and donating a few quid to Marie Curie Cancer Care!

Journey into the Annals of Time

Today was supposed to be a running day, but I'm going to be very short on time tomorrow (for a long bike ride) and I needed to be somewhere today, and I could cycle there, so today turned out to be a cycling day.

The place I needed to be was the London Metropolitan Archives, somewhere that's been on the periphery of my things to do list for a long time, but I've never had a real reason to go before.  One of my activities outside of the day job is as a church organist.  I play regularly at St. Paul's, Harringay, which was accoladed last year as one of the top ten best modern churches in Britain.  In order to get a modern church, either someone has to decide to build one where there wasn't one before or something has to have happened to an older one - in this case, it is the latter, and the old church burnt down in 1984.  The new church has no war memorials in it so, in this year of the commemoration of the start of the First World War, we want to find out whether there were any memorials in the old church and, if we can, work out what happened to them.  I had done some searching online and found out that some documents that might be helpful were at the London Metropolitan Archives.

The LMA is only open one Saturday a month (it's open on other days too, just not weekends!) and it just so happened that today was the day, so off I went.  The LMA is just off Rosebery Avenue, near Sadlers Wells Theatre.  My main geographical issue was turning off my autopilot when going around Newington Green when I had to take a different exit from the one for my route to work.  However, I had plenty of other issues - my gears were a bit clunky, I'd got to the point in Finsbury Park where I usually remember to turn on my sports watch when I realised I'd forgotten even to put it on and when I was over halfway to the LMA, I realised I'd forgotten my phone (during the course of the day I also managed to spray cola all over the visitors' lounge at the LMA and drop my bike on its side when the saddle pack was open, thereby littering my belongings all over the street...).  I had been a bit concerned about where I would park my bike, but the LMA has bike racks out the back and a very nice guard who will show you where they are.

Now, I knew from my pre-trip research that you need a "History Card" to access the original documents in the archive and that you can pre-register to save time on arrival (which I had done).  However, what the website does say is that they will take a picture of you for your card.  They also don't tell you that the perfectly lovely man taking the picture will not mention to you that, having cycled nearly five miles to get there, you have a red stripe across the middle of your forehead from where your cycle helmet has been.  The result of this is that you end up with your History Card looking like this until 2017:

I had a great time looking at the documents and finding out all about the history of my church.  Reading through handwritten minute-books is always fascinating (OK, maybe that's just me), but seeing all of the lists of the fallen to be included on the memorial was also heartbreaking.

Once I'd made all the notes I could and seen all the documents I had the time to review, I set off back again.  I stopped on Essex Road to visit one of my favourite fabric shops (oops!), which also allowed me to hop (on foot, but not literally hopping) around the most hideous temporary traffic lights known to man - I'd figured out that the best way to deal with it was to walk to the other side of the junction and set off when the cars going the other way through the lights had a green signal.  This helped me to miss the seemingly millions of buses that were queuing up to make my life a misery, and I set off back towards home with relatively little of note happening.

This is the first time for a very long time that I've cycled this kind of distance two days running, so I was quite pleased with the way it went.  The total distance there and back was 15.68km so, with 8.01km ride home yesterday evening, my total for cycling is now a humongous 122.96km!