Today is the 13th running of the Vitruvian Triathlon,
unlucky for some perhaps. The weather dawns pretty good and race day stays dry
throughout. This is usual for me to say the least.
Having registered last night and set up my bike in
transition at the same time, I probably took it a bit too
leisurely on Saturday morning and ended up rushing the few things I had
left to do. Not that you can rush much when transition at 5am is a place
full of zombified
folk who aren’t fully awake yet but will turn into fully honed athletes
once they are dipped in reservoir water.
I miss part of the race briefing due to my over leisureliness.
The first swim wave is off at 6:15am, I am off in the 5th
and last wave at 6.50am. Clearly they are worried about me if everyone else
requires such a big head start. They needn’t have been.
The swim is two 950m laps and it's the first time I've done
a two lap swim that requires a brief exit from the water and a 25m run back
long the 'beach' before getting back in.
I get involved in a few scuffles in the first 100m
or so
which throws all my breathing and heartbeat out, which means I end up
resorting
to doggie paddle for a while before moving up to first backstroke and
then
breaststroke. Eventually I attempt to reengage with front crawl but it
takes
most of the first lap to do so. I also have blinding cramp in my left
calf, not
good. I am hauled (helpfully) out of the water by the armpits after the
first lap and sent staggering on my way before plunging inelegantly back
in.
24
minutes for the first lap isn’t great. The second lap is
better in that I manage to swim most of it properly but with the field
now well
thinned out maintaining direction becomes the new problem and on being
hauled out of the water by my armpits for a second time I’m appalled to
find that my second lap is no quicker than the first.
I will put this down to poor direction finding and the fact that I did
drag both legs all the way around due to the calf cramp.
A total swim time of 50:25 is my worst yet. My transition
also needs work, 4:03 is pretty terrible really. I ought to be able to halve
that but at least now I’m onto the bit that matters most. The 2-lap bike
course. I have done this course twice before
in the Dambuster Duathlon and this is the first time it hasn't been excessively windy.
Without the wind the terrain doesn’t seem quite so
hilly and
I also discover to my surprise that the course has some downhills.
Previously the in-your-face gale negated these and the nice smooth
tarmacked roads are a joy, I hardly see anyone fixing
a puncture.
At the
end of lap one I hurl by Outlaw Half branded water bottle at L before
picking up a fresh one. I didn’t want my souvenir bottle
to be reused and handed back out to someone else.
Lap two goes just as well
as lap one and I thoroughly enjoyed minute of the 2:57:06 ride, which
is nicely inside the hallowed 3 hours even
if it was short. As in 85k rather than the usual 90km for a half iron distance
race.
So to the 10.5km out-and-back run along the edge of Rutland
Water dodging the ‘tourists’ who really didn’t give a monkeys whether they got
in anyone’s way or not. In fact, I think most tried to be as disruptive as
possible.
The whole run is a bit of a limp as the cramp in my calf has
not eased one bit on the bike, usually it does. So it’s a case of being careful
so that it doesn’t turn into a tear. I had already worked out that a 2:05 half
would get me in under six hours. I review and recalibrate this at every km mark.
Yes, they have km markers here which is about the only thing they did better
than the Outlaw. That’s not a criticism of the organisers, it’s just the Outlaw
sets the bar very high.
At the end of the first lap I pause for a brief hug with
the boys and girl of the support crew before another lap of tourist dodging beckons.
I hold my pace and run a 2:02:16 half finishing in 5:55:50. A
mere 1:33 behind the winner but I’m happy with that. I’m called a Vitruvian, handed
my medal, t-shirt, crisps for the boys, a biscuit for L and a flap jack for me.
Then I’m handed a pint of Erdinger, sadly alcohol free. After writhing in agony on the grass
for a while, then being reunited with the support crew, I pass my Erdinger to L
and head off in search of any available petite blondes who might wish to massage my legs. They are all
booked up apparently but a hulking great male offers to do instead. Beggars can’t be
choosers of course and he does a brilliant job of reintegrating my calf with the rest of
my body. Then I borrow some money off L to pay him before grabbing another Erdinger,
sadly still alcohol free.
