Hyde Park Olympic Distance Triathlon

I completed my first Olympic distance triathlon on 6/8/11 in Hyde Park. It was definitely  a test of endurance, mentally and physically, a great event, but has left me confused as to how I should feel.

The build up

Last year I completed the “sprint” distance triathlon at Hyde Park (750m swim, 20k bike, 5k run).  This good result led to my signing up to the Olympic distance (i.e. double the distance for all disciplines) back in the winter. I’d assumed that 2011 would be my third year of being a triathlete and that I’d seriously get into training with my local club.  As it turns out, Brighton Marathon, tube running, and generally not having the time to travel to/from mid-week training sessions meant that I had not visited Sevenoaks Triathlon Club all year. I am technically a member though having paid the membership dues and being a recipient of their weekly emails.  I’ve done enough running preparation.  For swimming, it wasn’t until after the marathon in April that I started to ‘up’ this – however it was from a very low base (i.e. nil since October 2010!)  I did several open water practices although I  never completed the full 1500m swim drill in one go.  As regards cycling, I think I’ve been on my bike a whole 3-4 times during the entire year.  I wasn’t too fussed about this because the cycle section is a closed traffic free looped course and – well, it was just a case of getting round and surviving that was my aspiration.

The week before

I spent most of the last 6-7 days progressively catching up with the sleep deficit from last weekend’s Thunder Run. It was a relatively quiet week of exercise: a minor tube run on Wednesday and Body Balance on Thursday.  We took Friday off to visit a friend; complete the race registration; and watch the athletics at Crystal Palace.  It was nice to have a three day weekend.  Registration took longer than expected; we arrived in Hyde Park at just after the designated opening time (3pm) but had to wait in a queue underneath the baking sun for about 45 minutes whilst they got themselves organised.  Although this was tiring, in the grand scheme of things we were able to get to Crystal Palace in time to see some inspiring athletics – including many Olympic-level runners and some lovely looking pole vaulters.

Getting to the start

My swim wave start time was 1410, so was able to get all my kit ready and then leisurely get on mid-morning train up into town.  The Mall was closed to traffic due to the women’s elite race on the Olympic course.  We watched this on television whilst having breakfast.  They were also setting a cycling test event to be held next weekend. Initially it was sunshine weather. On the Mall there were hoards of tourists.  Zoe and I progressed through to Green Park, under Wellington Arch, and to the transition area on the North side of the Serpentine.

Being a major event with thousands of entrants, many competitors had already started hours before me.  The cycle course dissected the Park, which would have been frustrating to tourists and weekend Park users – but also presented them with the opportunity for some free watching of sports.  At the tightly-controlled transition area, following a safety check I was able to deposit my bike and get my “bits and bobs” sorted.  Preparing for a triathlon requires a lot more thinking than a straightforward running event.  For example: I was wearing my tri-suit and timing chip (around the ankle); I needed to leave in the transition area: my bike, bike helmet, GPS device, sunglasses, sports gels/fluids, cycling shoes, towel upon which to stand whilst changing; number and number belt; running trainers.  I needed to take with me to the start: my wetsuit; goggles; coloured swim cap (for the wave start).  You couldn’t leave any ‘general’ kit in the transition area as that went for a separate kit area. Also the transition area was ‘live’ as people who’d started earlier in the day could be seen waddling in from their swim; changing; and leaving either on bike, or if they were even further through, jogging with their bike, depositing bike, then donning trainers and making their way out for the run leg.

Although the water temperature permitted for not wearing wetsuit, given that the weather was already changeable and the officials had suggested it was a good idea, and also my lack of confidence at being in the water splashing around for 30-40 minutes, I decided that wetsuit was the way forward. I caught up with Alex, a work buddy (and former national level swimmer many many years ago) who was starting about an hour before me.  I caught up with Zoe, who was official video/photographer for the day, and also the coordinator of my official fan club (more of which later).

We hung around the ‘village’ of trade stalls and cafes for a while, listening to the race commentary and seeing what was on offer. There was a machine in a stand that could take incredibly complicated BMI and other measurements of body composition which we queued up for, although we weren’t quite convinced of the results.  Nonetheless it killed some time.  Then it was time for Zoe to go to meet up with Alma, her son, and Sue, twitter buddies who were in town (a) because they are good and (b) because they did a half marathon today (Sunday).  It was less than 20 minutes to go before wave start so we had a quick chat then said our goodbyes.  I knew the routine from before and met with a bunch of similarly-clad wetsuit and red-cap wearing individuals.  I didn’t speak to too many people but I could tell everyone else was excited and nervous.  We were given a quick rules briefing but basically were told to swim around the big inflatable bouys in the Serpentine. We then were marshalled onto the temporary pontoon and invited into the water. It seemed like less than a minute later we were all holding on to the edge of this, waiting for the starting klaxon.  Then the 50 or so people in my wave shot off.

Swim Stage

I knew it was going to be a bit rough and tumble and almost straight away I found that I was either swimming into someone elses’ line or they were kicking into me. I held back a bit, because not being a strong swimmer going from nothing to ‘full throttle’ left me with a bit of breath deficit.  Also I paused because my goggles had started to let in water and that wouldn’t have really been sustainable.  It took me a bit of time to get into a pattern, by which time the principal ‘V’ of the main swimmers had long gone and there were about six or seven people that were making up the rear-guard action bobbing slowly towards the first marker.  By the long stretch I was I think in the last four (or possibly two).  One of the people in canoes asked me if I was alright. I did wonder whether I could just retire some 4 minutes into the race but thought that would be a bit poor. I had trained for the swimming – in this lake itself – so just needed to get my head down and start swimming.  Unlike pool swimming, when you duck your head below the surface, you don’t get painted lanes but a murky green water with very limited visibility.  Having overcome any irrational fears of a shark or pike coming up from the depths to bite you from previous o/w training, it is the challenge of distance swimming just to go in a straight line.  So you count the number of arm strokes, trying to be as streamlined as possible through the water – say 20 or 30 strokes – then you look up.  It’s frustrating  if you look up after this and the far bouy seems to be just as far away as before – or possibly even further away.  Anyway, variously bumping into the other back swimmers but seemingly making some forward progress, I found myself at the Eastern end of the lake, somewhere that I’d never swam before.  Now ahead of me about 400 metres was the pontoon where I’d be able to get out of the water. By this time I’d already had the shame and embarrassment of being overtaken by the lead swimmers for the wave that had started 10 minutes after me.  The elite women were out of the water after about 15 minutes. My effort later turned out to be some 37 minutes – at least less than my personal estimate of 40 minutes.

The Bike Stage

Some officials were helping swimmers get vertical again after 30+ minutes being horizontal. Now it was time to kick start the legs, and waddle, then jog through some showers (where Zoe had managed to catch me and do some filming – where she exclaimed that I looked exhausted [true!]) and some 200 metres to the transition area.  Here, I Houdini-style escaped from my wetsuit, then stand on a towel whilst I put my helmet on, started up my GPS, and ate a gel whilst putting my cycling shoes on.  Then it was time to wheel the bike out of the area, and not mount it until the designated start point.  Then it was off on the 300-400 metre spur, before joining the ‘course’ proper for the first of five 7k laps of the Park.

I’d taken my GPS because completion of five laps was self-regulated. I had no idea how long this was going to take and I didn’t want to accidentally do too many or too few laps (and therefore be disqualified, as everything was chip-timed).  My watch therefore was switched to km and with a big display mode as I didn’t know how accurate it was all going to be. It turned out that I did have the mental capacity to count to five.  The course involves travelling West along the outer perimeter, past the barracks and up an incline, before veering right at near 90 degrees onto the bridge road that bi-sects Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens.  Then turning a shimmy quite tightly (past Zoe’s cheering station) it was along to the North edge of the park, along to the car-park area near Marble Arch, for a hairpin turn then back along all of that, to the bit at Wellington Arch where you made another hair-pin turn onto lap 2.

As I’d said, very little cycle training, and with multiple waves on the course it was possible to theorise that someone with NXXXX on their number belts had been on the cycle stage longer than me, as a Q-wave starter. Hence it was basically acceptable that you’d be overtaking people who were getting progressively more tired.  Now triathlon being a sport for those undergoing a mid-life crisis, there were some very unfit men on some very expensive looking bikes – including those with disc wheels that made a spinning-top noise as they went past – and those who were donning ultra-streamlined ‘pointy hats’ (who basically looked like Marvin the Martian).  I pootled along with no tri-bars but hunched up on my drop-handlebars. I started to get weary after the forth lap, and used some of the uphill segments to stand forward and stretch my back.  Legs felt strong, and I wasn’t going to risk any daring manoeuvres for the sake of a couple of seconds.  I noticed that I had completed 30km in the first hour of cycling, which I think is the fastest I’ve ever cycled for a sustained basis. Obviously not an entirely ‘real’ situation being on a closed course in a race slipstream, but this is why I didn’t really relish the prospect of training for the race as the roads around us are rubbish with poor motorist skills all round.

Anyway, I returned after the fifth lap to the transition area, dismounting at the designated area and wheeling my bike back to transition. I switched to trainers; rotated my running belt around to the front, took another gel, made a quick wee stop (having neither weed in the Serpentine or having jettisoned ‘en cycle’) and bounded out onto the run course.

The Run Course

This was four laps of the perimeter of the lake. My legs were well elasticity from the cycling and I was so pleased to be almost done that I sped out and around the course that I know so well from a summer of Hyde Park running.  As I passed Zoe and her cheerleaders – who had timed their chanting to the exact moment that I would pass thanks to some TV production quality coordination – I could exchange a few words with them, and speed round and past the point at which eventually I would veer off to the finish line.  I found myself overtaking loads of people on this segment.  I felt stronger than ever, powering on through. Second, third, forth laps completed no worries. Each time passing the start area looking at nervous swimmers about to board the pontoon – with me thinking that I was so glad that piece was out the way. On the final approach there was no cheerleaders as they’d gone to get a good position at the finish area. I made my way into the final 100 metres, with the open entry to the finish line. The announcer called out my Tri club name as I crossed the line. I had no idea what my times were. I was handed a hefty medal, passed a St Johns Ambulance guy who was there to catch people that were about to pass out, and turned the corner to see the Helen Jenkins, the British elite woman who had won the race earlier in the day.
She had long changed out of her gear and was looking even more super-gorgeous as she’d just been interviewed.  Her super-triathlete husband was also there but I’d missed a trick to have my photograph taken with her as someone else had collared her to ask her the same.  All in all I felt a better result than last year when I’d seen Graham Bell and Natalie Pinkham in the exact same area being the interviewers of famous competitors.

After-race

I made my way out of this finish area to the public ‘village’ and met up with Zoe, Alma, her son, and Sue. Lots of hugs and kisses all round. I was really happy that Alma and Sue had taken time out of their day to watch me (and others) race.  I think Alma’s 18 y/o son was suitably impressed as to the triathlon vibe – who knows, a future champion perhaps.  Anyway, the weather was on the turn so we said our goodbyes, I made my way back to the transition area to pack up all my stuff, get checked out of the secure zone (as many £ thousands of kit was being left there effectively on trust).  Then me and Zoe made our way back to Charing Cross, catching up with Mike and Katrina – fellow running club and triathlon club buddies.  We took the train home together – almost getting accosted by a grumpy disabled man because our bikes were taking up space in “his” designated disabled zone (which actually was dual use).  This aside, I was glad to be making my way home.  We then celebrated with a hearty Chinese, and a *lot* of sleep.

Results – Summary

Aftermath

I wrote at the beginning how I felt confused. On one hand I’d achieved an excellent first time Olympic Distance triathlon result – sub three hours. On the other, I didn’t ‘feel’ elated at the achievement. Why is this?  Perhaps it lacked the team spirit endeavour of the Thunder Run?  Perhaps its the forthcoming conclusion of my 400+ mile tube running that ranks it low in the overall order of things? I don’t know. Really difficult to understand why. Someone wrote recently that “you shouldn’t judge yourself on what you’ve not achieved but on what you have achieved” – but for some reason, even though this makes sense, this isn’t registering.

I went for a run today (Monday) in Hyde Park at lunchtime after a stressful morning at work. I ran almost non-stop for nearly an hour – around the triathlon course and beyond, past the remnants of the triathlon village and around all the temporary barriers and so on. It seemed so empty from two days previous.  I guess that I am anticipating a period where there will be virtually no physical challenges in the calendar. Aside from the Liverpool Marathon in October, I have a free outlook. So I guess it’s all about: what next?!

Sorry if you were expecting a more upbeat finish to this write-up but there you go!