I am writing this the morning after the duathlon. The clocks have gone back so I am rejoicing in the extra hour by sitting at my desk at quarter to six, and reflecting on the race. As I started to mentally compose this report, it struck me that what I want to say is less about the race, and more about the effect it had on me, and on my state of mind.
Rather than give a blow by blow account of this race, I want to reflect on how great it was to be racing again. This was my first multisport race since Yorkshireman in June 2019. Not because of injury or illness – I have been in great shape this year – but because of the peculiar nature of 2020, and the fact that I have shied away from the few opportunities to race because of anxieties about being around so many people.
This duathlon was moved to Thoresby Park, the site of the recent Outlaw X, and managed by the same One Step Beyond team. We’d had several community athletes racing at X, and I had ventured down to watch, staying at the far edge of the course, avoiding the race HQ area. They’d all reported back that the race had felt safe and well managed, so I put my trust in the organisers and decided to race.
That was a decision that had wavered back and forth over the last couple of weeks. This year has been tough mentally, and my fears are not really focused exclusively on the actual virus. This extended period of social isolation has got under my skin, and I find myself intimidated by the idea of being in a crowd of people. My club Wakefield Tri has recently restarted swim sessions, and coaching them has been a rewarding but really daunting experience. The actual coaching has been wonderful, but getting myself there and getting the session started has been really difficult every week.
Likewise with Clumber Park. This report is a positive story of a day well spent, but driving down was a flurry of anxiety and fighting off excuses to turn around and hide in my office all day. I am so glad I didn’t cave in to those siren voices. Arriving and parking up, I wandered over to the find the loos. I immediately relaxed as I saw and spoke to club colleagues. The advantage of always fearing the worst, is that you are constantly pleased by the fact that reality is better than your darkest imaginings.
Okay, I will also give you some of the blows of the race too. This is a race report, not a therapy session.
The staggered start meant we set off at fifteen second intervals. A side effect of this is the wonderful realisation that it is virtually impossible to be late. I have heard race hooters going off as I am still wrestling myself into a wetsuit on more than one occasion, so nipping to the lavvy, having a cup of tea, and wandering down to start whenever I feel like it, is right up my street.
I set off thirty seconds behind my friend Jim Megson, who had been standing in the cold for hours and was freezing. He started with a buff, a hat, gloves, and two coats on. By the time I caught him up he’d already stripped off and was left carrying a load of clothes as he ran round the park, the silly sod. I was sympathetic, and expressed this by taking the piss.
The pre-race debate had been about wearing road or trail shoes for the run. I’d opted for road shoes but left my traillies in transition so I had the option to use them for the second run if necessary. In the end, the route was fine for road shoes. Although it was mostly off road, there was a lengthy tarmac road section, and most of the trails were solid mud tracks that didn’t cause any slipping. I was happy with my choice and stuck with the road shoes for the second run too.
My stated aim was to do the first run at a manageable pace, smash the bike, and see what I could do for the second run. I set off at about 5 mins per km, but got a bit faster in the second half of the run as I warmed up and felt comfortable.
One side effect of the staggered start was that I spent most of the run being overtaken by younger runners. I’m not a fool – I know I am not the fastest athlete on the course – but usually, you all start together. Within a couple of minutes, you never see those faster athletes again. Unfortunately, when they all start in the five or ten minutes after you, you have to suffer the constant reminder as they tick by you like a metronome. I ignored them, settled into my pace, an occasional glance at the watch to make sure I wasn’t getting carried away, but mostly listening to my body and staying at a manageable pace.
I went through 5k in 23 minutes, which was about right, and then finished the run at the same effort level for a 31:35 split time.
Transition was probably a bit slower than normal. I am out of practice, and hadn’t bothered with elasticated laces, sticking the bike shoes on the pedals, or any of that malarkey. Just took my time and got out onto the road.
An unexpected but positive side effect of 2020 has been a lot more hard short bike rides on the turbo. Leading a twice weekly group session has meant I am feeling strong on the bike at the moment, and I wanted to see what I could do. I have also been working on my cadence this year, and tried to keep my cadence up above 90rpm for the whole ride. (I don’t want to get too distracted by this tangent, but I have always been a low cadence grinder, and that’s something I have worked on this year.)
As I got myself organised on the bike in the first minute or so, eating a gel and taking on water, Adam Connellan went past me. Another one of those annoying youngsters who I usually don’t see until the end of the race, but this one is a clubmate and an annoying youngster that I actually like. We had a brief chat and he sailed on past. However, I managed to keep him in sight on the long straight roads, and used him as a hare to chase. He told me afterwards that he is a long way from full fitness, but I don’t care about that. Keeping up with Adam is a feather in my cap, and I am having it.
The wind was strong, but really only felt a hindrance on the long ride through Clumber Park. The surface there is also a bit bumpy so that made for a tough section of riding. I tried to keep my legs spinning at 90rpm and overtook a few people in that section, including Belinda, who had set off a few minutes before me. She was loudly grumbling about the surface, so I once again deployed my trademark sympathy and left her to it.
In the second lap, I could feel my legs hurting, and BOTH calves were on the verge of cramp. I ended up with an annoying average speed of 31.8kph – I was hoping to hold 32, but nevertheless I was happy with that on a windy day.
Just before the finish, I caught Jess on her first lap. I gave her a friendly shout as I approached which I instantly regretted as she tried to look over her shoulder and veered off the road onto the grass verge before shakily recovering her line. “Eyes on the road, you dopey bastard.” Great coaching, Gareth.
Now… in terms of preparation, I have trained well this year. I feel fit and strong. I have run, I have ridden. I have NOT, however, done them together. Zero brick sessions this year. And now, I got off my bike… bloody hell! Proper John Wayne legs as I jogged my bike into transition. Road shoes back on and I headed out of transition for a second lap of the run route.
The jelly legs actually only lasted for the first km, but I was trying to match my pace from the first run, and so I worked on regulating my breathing and finding a pace I could just about sustain. By now the field was a lot more spread out, but I gradually picked over eight or ten runners around the course, and of course all the youngsters were all long gone by now so I FELT fast as there was no drumbeat of racers going past to remind me I wasn’t!
I went through the 5k mark in 22:58 – two seconds faster than the first leg – and finished in 31:39. That’s 4:38/km vs 4:41/km in the first run. I am so pleased with this. It was a strong run at the end, but the victory is in the well paced first run. I am really chuffed with that pace management. I always tell people not to go off too fast, so it’s great to be able to actually deliver that for myself.
Most importantly, and especially with reference to what I wrote at the start of this report, I was running with a smile on my face. I was happy. It was so good to be racing again. It felt good to be pushing my body to its limit and seeing what I could do. It felt good to be picking people off. It felt good to part of something bigger. As I emerged from the woods and reached the finish line, there was a cheer from the Wakefield and Morley contingents. It felt good to reconnect with this community.
My conclusion (and if you’ve got this far, congratulations on reaching what I am going to audaciously call the “wisdom” I have gained) is that the importance of triathlon to me is that it provides me with exactly that sense of community.
This year, I have spent a lot of time with a relatively small number of people. Physically, just Pam and Thomas. But even virtually, I have our incredible community of athletes who have kept me tethered to the rest of the world, and some wonderful business colleagues, with whom I have been able to share at least some of my fears.
But everyone is part of several different communities. Family, workplace, several different friend groups, the parents at the school gates, Twitter mutuals, whatever… some of these communities overlap and some are more powerful than others, but all play a part, and all are important.
I realised this weekend that I am part of a huge invisible community of triathletes in this country. We huff and puff around B roads in the Midlands with numbers pinned to our backs. We obsess over elasticated laces. We talk with enthusiasm about the relative merits of different types of energy gel. We are weird. But we are ALL weird in broadly the same ways. We are a community.
I am going to make myself reengage more with this wider community over the winter, no matter how hard we are locked down. When I feel negative about myself, it gets harder to do that, but this weekend made me realise that it’s worth the effort, and that I can’t wait for the world to hold its hand out to me. I have to reach out and pull myself back.