“The 2024 Cotswold Classic Middle Distance
Triathlon”, and other stories.
Disclaimer
This report does end up covering a few races and events of the last 12 months, so it’s a little longer than the usual report. That said, I find writing these very insightful, so don’t worry if you don’t want to read all of it, or skip parts, I’ve found it very therapeutic writing this. I didn’t do a report after the 113 last year, and I regret that. If you’ve not written a race report, do write one. Even if you don’t want to share it, it makes you think not just about the “what” happened but all the “whys” around it. Sometimes even a “disappointing” race is actually a huge achievement, you’ve just forgotten the amount of growth you’ve been through to get to the end, or the obstacles you overcame. So here begins my story of growth and obstacles!
Prelude -2023 “113”
I didn’t do a race report from the 113 in 2023, and that’s perhaps where we start. When the club were promoting the 2023 “113” middle distance event at Lake 32 back in late 2022/early 2023 I didn’t think I would be able to do that distance. The Olympic distance I had just completed at Reading had broken me. The 10k run was a walk/run affair, and the idea of going the next step up scared the heck out of me.
I knew I could do each of the individual elements, but you learn quickly in Triathlon that sticking the three together makes it all a very different ball game. One they make the ball out of concrete with for some reason.
The 113 event and its organisation is amazing. That even starts with their first emails with links to training. They offered a free 16 week middle distance training plan from Black Flag tailored for the 113. I love a training plan, and it made it simple to just get it in the calendar and get the training done, come rain or shine, just tick off each little box as it came.
Training went well. On the day, the swim went pretty well. I was targeting 45 minutes and was done in 43:41. I also remember enjoying it, thinking “I could do that again”. Then onto the bike for a “pancake flat” ride. I’d done some decent distances in training, so felt I could get round. I don’t recall many struggles apart from my bum REALLY starting to ache a couple of hours in. I was doing a similar pace to Lee Phillips so we would occasionally overtake each other when the adrenaline kicked in (or the fatigue) and he looked in a similar position to me. Spending quite a bit of time on the pedals and off the saddle to try to get some relief. We spoke about that quite a bit after – that was the overriding memory of the bike. Target time was 3hrs 23 mins (no I idea where those numbers came from) and I finished it in 3hrs 23 mins.
Into T2, and off onto the run. I wasn’t looking forward to this… I’d done bricks in training and they were uncomfortable, but I new this would be something else. The memories of Reading Olympic gave me a good idea of what to expect. I started slow and got slower. The walks started early and got more and more necessary. It was a hot day, average of 25degC and maximum of 29degC. There are only so many ways to say “brutal”, “slow”, “painful” so I won’t fill too much between those keywords.
I remember being on the last lap, Lee Phillips had caught me up (think he went for lunch in T2 or something) and we kinda had a chat about getting around and just trying to finish. I say “chat”, my memory was that my side was one word answers, and barely intelligible.
That all said, I finished. My target time for the run was between 2h 11mins – 2h 18mins. My prep notes had me at 10:-00- 10:30 pace ( I would be more like 9:00 on a Half with fresh legs). I finished the run in 2 hours and 41 minutes. Total time for the event was 06h:58m.
Comparison is the thief of joy
Months before I would have been amazed at completing that event. Making the finish line is a phenomenal achievement. I have a piece of paper somewhere that had “6:30-07:00” on it, and to come in just before 7 hours was nice.
BUT
Reading Olympic run left me with a bit of regret at the run. This event also left me with a little aftertaste of disappointment. I loved the race, I loved completing it, I loved “racing” with so many of my Tri Team Glos teammates, it was a day to remember, but, there was just that little niggle that once again, despite the training going so well, my run failed again. A few of the TTG crew caught up the next day for a coffee to talk about the race, it was a great debrief. Box was ticked on the “A race” for the year. That was in the bag, “complete not compete” was well and truly ticked. Another of my favourite quotes is “Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good”. 06:29 would probably have been perfect that day. Sub 07:00 was good for me. I tried to take that away from the day. I probably only really understand that all now today as I write this.
A Coach
In the weeks after the race, I was a little lost. My training plan was done, no big races left. My race result was still niggling a little. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. Deep down, I knew what I really wanted to do. I wanted to go back to that lake and put a decent run in. I wanted to go back to the 113 in 2024 and go get that 06:29 finish. Having seen my progress in the club thanks to every single member in it, I knew I could improve. “Trust the training” is theme I’ve had for years, so I knew I could improve, but not sure how much by.
As Triathlon (and TTG) has now pretty much become my social life and hobby (wow, I need to get out more, and I don’t mean on my own at 0615 on a rainy winter morning for another run), made the decision to invest in a coach. I’ve completed 3 marathons, but coming up to the big” 5-0”, it was a dark secret that sometimes, when I wasn’t thinking straight, I’d dare to think about doing a “full” (distance triathlon). I mean it shouldn’t be something any rational person does. I’ve always said that they make Marathons that long as they are just on the other side of possible. They tear you inside out and upside down physically and emotionally, but you only find that out in the last 6 miles. I’m sure for some, they are a just another race, but that’s been my experience with each and every one of my painful and slow marathons. The Olympic and Half distance triathlons taught me that some idiot designed these events to pummel the body in every possible way before you even get to the start of that run. So a full…. That should be impossible.
After some research and a couple of false starts, I ended up chatting to Kirsty Walker at Total Tri Training. A coach who at 30 started Couch to 5k, had to learn front crawl and how to ride a bike, and then progressed to World Championships and coaching. Our chat was exactly what I needed. She heard about me as someone who’s targets were personal and not focused on the position in the pack. That my goals were just personal improvement and not some magical number that others thought was “good”. A much better write up on Kirsty is available here.
THE Goal
Kirsty and I had a long chat on the phone. How I got started in Triathlon and the reasons behind it (losing both my parents within a week of each other during Covid, “get busy living” became a moto) along with my running background. We talked about the 113 and I dared to believe I could get to that magical 06:29. Kirsty looked at my previous races and really made me believe I could get more power on the bike and do justice to my run.
We also talked about “the full”. It wasn’t something I wanted to do in 2024, but it was there somewhere just beyond the horizon, and we popped it on the radar and then left it alone. It wasn’t the goal, but it was something we knew we might come back to.
With the “main” race out of the way, Kirsty took me through what training would look like. She introduced me to “Training Peaks” and listened to how family life and club sessions worked to help build a training structure that worked for me.
The new style of training and coaching worked well. It’s pretty much all remote. I feed back on Training Peaks how each session went and Kirsty comes back with supportive messages and sometimes a little nudge. We then have WhatsApp for the broader questions and an old fashioned phone call whenever needed. From my side, the plans just write themselves. I’m sure Kirtsy would explain how it’s 10x harder than that, especially when I explain I’ve injured myself again or have just tested positive for Covid two weeks before a race. I certainly keep her on her toes.
We caught up at Stroud Half Marathon at the end of the season, and I had a lovely run, coming in at 08:55 minute miles at 1h56m. At some point, I came up with the idea of running the Paris Marathon. It would be relatively close to the 2024-113, but Kirsty was happy that she could build it into a training plan for me to do both. So with that, I was going back to my nemesis of the “marathon”.
I’ve done 3 of these and each one has been far slower than I’d hoped. In 2007 and 2009 I did London. I was much fitter and faster back then, but that distance did me in each time, with finishes of 5h34m and 5h01m. A return to the distance in 2021 (after a firm “never again” in 2009) saw me come in at 4h52m. I was targeting a 4h30m in that one (as I had been in the previous ones too). This time, I had a coach who was confident I could meet that 4h30 time (at least one of us was)
Paris Brighton (and Berkeley) and “The Ankle”
Winter training went well. I respond really well to routine. Having the following two weeks planned out in Training Peaks works really well for me. Early in 2024 the planning for Paris wasn’t going well, costs were mounting, and it was becoming less and less a “romantic weekend away with a run in it” and more like something out of The Crystal Maze with a teenager in tow and an indecent price tag. A little bit of research gave me the option of Brighton Marathon on the same day. Much easier logistics, course looked lovely and the stress of worrying about the weekend was much reduced knowing we could just get and AirBnB and drive ourselves around compared to Paris logistics. I booked Brighton and said Au Revoir to Paris.
I found the Berkeley Fission 20 mile race, and it was perfectly placed in the diary on a day that was a “20 mile run”. No need for the normal laps around the locality, I could use this race to dial in the nutrition and mindset. I would say “long story short”, the run was finished, it was okay, hard at the end, but the detail is here. The big takeaway was that I wasn’t sure I had another 6 miles left in me at the end. I’d find out a few weeks later.
Or so I thought. During taper week, the plan dialled everything down. The marathon was only a week away and it was time for the body to recover and prepare. Ruth was training for her first Olympic distance and was getting out and nailing her runs. She asked if I would come on one of her runs, but “it’s not in the training plan” I told her, so I didn’t. I went on the bike and rode next to her for her run. The slight issue here is that I didn’t’ quite realise how slowly you have to go on a bike to keep up with someone running. As I went around the corner, I was pretty much stationary, turned my wheel and it caught the toe on my shoe. The wheel locked up, the bike stopped moving. Well the bike stopped moving forwards, and as physics dictates, then started moving in a rotational direction to dump me onto the pavement. It all happened so quickly, yet comedically slowly. I didn’t get unclipped in time and just landed as one with the bike on the pavement. Ruth came running around the corner to find me on the deck – wonderfully focussed on her run, shouted “you okay” as she ran past.. “yep” I replied and she disappeared into the distance. I got up, shook myself off and assessed the damage. Bit of gravel, bit of blood, but bike seemed to be okay, so I got back on and started pedalling. Knee felt a little sore and I wasn’t’ sure the ankle should be making that noise. Probably the pedal, but felt like the ankle.
I got home, assessed the bike (lever was pretty messed up and out of line, but went back to position okay). Frame check was okay, so just some battlescars on the lever to show for it. On the better sider of what it could have been. Ankle was still tender and over the next few hours got worse. Next day was just R.I.C.E but it wasn’t getting much better. Walking was okay, but running was a big no. Broke the news to my coach, and she just said rest it and we’ll see where we are in a few days. Come the Friday, I had a day off to prepare for the marathon. I find myself at the physio for a once over to see if it’s just a bruise or something more serious. Movement was broadly okay apart from one specific position. She said I was probably okay to run, but it would be painful. She was happy for me to go on a short “Go/NoGo” run to see how it was (hadn’t run at all at this point).
I got home, put some trainers on, took a breath and started a run.
I “ran” for about 3 minutes. It was the most uncomfortable, ugliest run I’ve ever done. Fast limp doesn’t cover it. It was about 150 seconds of “can I do this for 4-5 hours?”. The answer was a resounding “no”. The marathon was off. 6 months of training ended with a 3 minute run.
In short, I’d aggravated a tendon injury I suffered in 2021. I’d “broken my ankle” kicking a football and wore a “boot” for a week or two, and it helped the bone heal and recover. What wasn’t apparent until a few months later when recovery was stalling was that the tendon was also damaged, so I had many visits to the physio, and eventually got back to near normal, but never quite right.
This latest off on the bike had just reignited that. I found that all the physio from last time worked well to improve the ankle and I set about to put the effort into recovery that I had into marathon training. Interestingly, after a couple of week, I found I could ride on the turbo perfectly fine, so set about doing Zwift Climb portals and races to release some of the frustration. I could also swim with a pull buoy (the kicking test failed terribly, but the pull buoy worked perfectly), so I was even back in the pool doing a 3k session, albeit with arms only. Running was still a big “no” at the start, but I swapped morning runs for “long morning walks at pace”. It’s not the same, but sometimes you have to put more time into recovery than you do into training. Eventually I got back to walk/runs and targeted a distant objective of a 5k run. One day…
Whilst progress was being made, myself and Kirsty were looking at the diary and realising that the 113 event was getting close.
I didn’t want to “get round”, and I was hardly doing any running at that point, just gentle walk runs. I was also worried about getting half way round and getting injured and pulling out.
I made the reluctant decision to change from the 113 to the Cotswold Classic. A quick email to Graeme and I had both his sympathies and a free transfer to the Cotswold Classic. There was a slight frustration I wouldn’t have a “like for like” event to really compare, but there was also one eye on the “slightly hillier” course profile for the bike (although I would get that same run course).
In the lead up Kirsty had another one of her athletes doing “first time Olympic” at the 51fiver and they were coming up to do a reccee ride of the route. Apparently the athlete was a “beginner, so will be super slow”. I got a 20k Bike PB that day. Again, “slow” is relative! What was good was to get a feel for what the Cotswold Classic course would be. There were a few hills in there, but overall it felt doable. Nothing would be a surprise on the day, and I would neither worry or be complacent about the bike leg.
Frampton 10k
Training continued to improve, and just a couple of weeks out from race day, the Frampton 10k turned up on the schedule. I’d entered this ages ago and almost forgot about it. It’s on a Monday night, and we’d been away for the weekend living it large as a very, very rate child free weekend away (although I did get a parkrun sandwich in like the plan told me to).I was aiming for 08:45 pace, but there are A LOT of fast runners at that race and the pack was moving. Going off I knew I was going too fast, but I figured the first mile would slow me down. The run carried on and the pace seemed to just stick at 08:15 and it felt okay. A quick mental once over and the body felt fine, it was cool, overcast and dry, so pretty good conditions for the run, so I just kept going. A little bit of a hill around half way and then you come back onto the out leg of the course and home is in sight. I took a bit of talking to myself to get through the last couple of miles (no headphones, so always a bit trickier for me) but I came in at 51:13 and was my fastest 10k in the last 3 years, so was really happy with that.
Taper Week, or “Danger Week” as I now like to call it
Before I knew it “Taper Week” for the Cotswold Classic was upon me… or “Danger Week” as me and my coach now call it. Trying to avoid accidents and injuries, I continued in the garden digging out a load of 500m deep trenches and manually loading the 10m2 of clay/soil into the skip at the side of the house. I only fell into the trench once, and broadly came out the other side. Strategy for the event, I wasn’t quite feeling the excitement or nerves I’d had before other big races. It just felt “meh”, but I started to try to spin that into “zen” or “well prepared”. Not worrying about a race is something I would have paid good money for before, so strange when it happens, it kind of feels wrong. That said, race weekend was here.
Cotswold Classic 2024
Registration
Registering the day before was pretty much the same as last year. Lovely weather, and in no time I was holding my bag with my number, chip and some goodies. The briefing was about to start and I had already watched the YouTube briefing, but decided to sit down and hear the “live” version. Not a huge amount of new information, but repetition is always good, and there were a few snippets in there on race day that helped out . For example, there a slightly muddy railway underpass that was being yellow flagged and DEAD SLOW, it was all explained in the briefing, so I knew what to expect and why. As it was, they had done a great job on the Saturday clearing most of that, so were it not for the briefing I might have wondered what all the fuss was about and overthinking it. We grabbed a couple of parking passes for the next day to save the queues and headed home. I had to pack – and remember what to pack, and then an early night.
Arriving
Alarm went off at 0343hrs. One of the very few times I use the vibrate alarm on my Garmin watch. It did it’s job and I managed to get up and turn the 14 backup alarms off on my iPhone. Always glad not to rely on the backup and wake the household up – the day was already off to a flying start. Downstairs to get my porridge pot started, and get my kit on. I pack the night before onto the Dining Table so it’s all laid out. I don’t give myself the opportunity to overthink in the morning, so I trust “Saturday Night Dave” did his job properly and load the bike and bags into the car. Coffee, Porridge and banana down, and I’m in the car and off.
4 seconds later, the warning light on the car comes on with a “low tyre pressure” warning. I get this from time to time on a cold morning, where a slow puncture fix doesn’t quite hold the pressure. I have a battery pump to sort it, but it’s NOISEY. Not wishing to wake most of the neighbours up, I had to the coop carpark and get about inflating my tyre and waking the birds up.
At this point, some dodgy geezer drives past the empty coop car park and turns in and parks next to me. It’s Jish, ready to roll for his bike relay leg at the same event.! With a “fancy meeting you here!” Becky comes around the corner (swim leg) and jumps in with Jish and we all get on with the short journey down to Lake 32.
Park in the field (avoiding the queue for those who didn’t pay for parking the day before) and set the bike up. A little bit of air in the tyres, a lot of sealant out, par for the course. A wipe down of the wheel and I’m off. Into transition and I’m racking. Next to me are labels for James Baker and Katie Keates. Katie turns up and we get setup. Chatting about what wave to use (the flexibility pretty much means you can start when you like) and what to wear on the bike (will it be cold?). James then turns up and after I’ve decided to wear an extra layer on the bike (forecast is for gloomy clouds, but hopefully dry) James offers me some sun cream. “Saturday Night Dave” didn’t pack any as his meteorological research pointed to it being unnecessary. Now sitting on the grass in very mild weather and no real clouds in sight, I decided to cover the exposed areas. Having it on shouldn’t cause any issues, so why not.
We walk over to the start and see Ryan who’s come to support . Jish and Ruichao are also there watching Becky start their swim leg. As the masses start to swim off, I head to the little outcrop to watch them and take in the swim course. I see Paul who’s marshalling and we chat a little about the swim course. Back to the start line and James and I realise we might as well stop chatting and get in the queue for the start. At this point we’ve lost Katie, she was eager to get started as soon as possible and we’ve not seen her for a while. She’s probably half way round at this point. We remind Jish that he should probably also stop chatting and worry about Becky finishing the swim and not to leave her waiting in transition for him to wander over. He pops off, raring to go, already kitted up in his dedicated cycle gear. At this point, I’m a little jealous of the relay team. Single disciplines where you can put it all into your leg and handover. I’ll need to be a bit more careful than that today, I’ve got that run to do.
Swim
We get to the front of the queue and there is that feeling that you can’t go back. Like being in the queue for a big log flume, the only way is down and there is no going back. This is the start of a 7 hour adventure. We are being set off at 3 second intervals, and when it’s my turn, I run (kinda) into the water, start my watch and start my swim.
The first 15 seconds are about settling. There doesn’t appear to be anyone in front, beside or behind me, it’s quiet water. My earplugs are in (see my Reading Olympic report for the time I left them tucked under my sleeve and had water stuck in my ear for a few days following) and I’m feeling okay. I’ve had problems with my goggles over the past few months. They have been absolutely perfect from the outset when I got them (Magic5) but in the last couple of months they have fogged up. I realised they are 3 years old, so probably due a replacement, but I’d left it too late for the race to get and trust a replacement pair. Thankfully, the first 200m seem to show they are going to behave today.
I then remember the second reason for sighting. It’s always taught as a skill to ensure you are swimming in a straight line towards your target buoy. Today I remember, it’s also useful if you find yourself swimming towards a slower swimmer. I navigate around the person in front and settle in, happy and comfortable heading for the first buoy. I turn on the buoy and I’m blinded. It’s 0730 in the morning and the sun is bright and low. I can see nothing in front. I remember the chat with Paul on the mound and visualise the marker at the other end of the lake. I try to swim broadly parallel with the shore and keep an eye out for the swimmers in front that I can see. I hope they know where they are going, but at this point I’m trusting the swim safety team to keep us on track. At about 75% of the way along that side of the lake, I can start to make out a yellow turn buoy. I make it around that and it’s much easier to see now. I settle down again. Again, I can’t see a marker in front, but I know it’s a way off, so just follow the crowd. It slowly appears, this will be the dog-leg section. This is a section where we do a 120 degree turn and swim back towards the start and return back again to just beyond that first turn point. I got this wrong last year, missing where the turn point was and what side I should be. There are a lot of bodies in the water here and it’s (apparently for me) easy to get disorientated. Last year, I had a kayak shepherding me out of the wrong are and into the right one, this time I do a little better and make the turn. As this is going on, it’s getting a little “noisy” in the water. I’m having some contact/pulling on my feet. I’m not panicking, but a little frustrated. It’s been a lovely clean swim up to this point, so I just put the power in a little bit and try to speed up for a while, hoping the person behind will go around me, it does eventually settle. I’m back into my rhythm for a while and I start to actually think about the finish. It’s still a way off, but when you start a swim 45 minutes seems like a long time, but time is relative, and 45 minutes in a swim seems to go much faster for me in a swim than it does in a run. I turn the last marker and head for the swim exit. I’m feeling relaxed and pick up the kick a little to get the legs moving. Swim all the way in as far as I can and then stand and accept the hand given to help me out of the water and stop my watch. Ryan is at the swim exit and cheering on and I run into transition. That’s the easy bit done.
So in numbers, last year the same swim took me 43:41 on the chip time and 43:10 on the watch for a 1837m swim.
This year gave me a chip time of 40:59 and 40:41 on the watch, and this time a 1836m swim.
We weren’t targeting a significant improvement on the swim. I was happy with it last year, and the main aim was for a relaxed and clean swim, so it’s nice to get almost 3 minutes off that and without having to put any extra effort in.
I’d like to thank Tim and Charlie for all the countless swim sessions they have given us. Those pool sessions have really allowed me to understand how to improve the technique and get faster and with less work. I still feel there is some progress to be made, but it’s nice to have a discipline that just happens with almost no drama or effort (toe tickling aside). I’d also like to thank Pete Jones and everyone who goes to Ploddy. The coached pool sessions are great for understanding how to improve, but Ploddy allows you to put the open water implementation into practice. With the odd fish jumping out and near zero visibility in the water, after the first couple of laps, you start to realise that the flat calm lake is a place you can settle down. Once you’ve realised that, you can just let the mind wander and get on with the swimming (not worrying about turns or the like). There was more than one occasion in that Lake 32 swim where I just let my mind drift off to that lake in Newent and zoned out. Perhaps that’s where that time went..
T1
I ran into T1 and tried to gather my thoughts. The idea here is that I’ve done all the thinking, and if “Saturday Night Dave” and “Transition Setup Dave” have done their job properly, I just pickup what’s in front of me and go. Helmet and number on, I turn my lights and bike computer on. Sit down and put my socks (pre rolled) on, throw on my sleeveless run jacket (a compromise for what to wear on the bike) and run to bike mount, an uneventful mount (although tricky with the rear bottles on) and I was on my way
Bike
I’d already ridden most of this route. The 51fiver reccee covered most of the route, and there were a small number of differences, but at least I knew about the hills. They aren’t particularly huge, but I knew there would be some efforts on route, and all that twice over. The nutrition strategy I’d worked out with my coach had me drinking a bottle (3 scoops of High5 powder) an hour, and I had a bonus of dropping the bars I wasn’t getting on with and replacing those with 5 Jelly Babies an hour. I’d spent the night before selecting just the black and red ones for my top tube bag, I was going to dine like a king on that ride!
Weather was nice, dry, cloudless sky and warm, but not too warm. Clothing choice felt about right. There is an aid station about 7 miles in where you can swap bottles, use the W/C and drop kit. In the 113 it was a colder start, so I wore a full length top and dropped it in the aid station at the end of lap one, I was planning on doing the same again here.
As we got higher, we seemed to find a fog/mist bank and it got noticeably cooler, I was now glad for the extra layer, but as soon as my smugness appeared, we dropped back out and the clear weather was back. I got on with the job in hand. There were a few people in sight on the ride. I overtook a few, a few others overtook all of us. There was one rider “Catriona” (Chelt Tri Club?) who would overtake me on the climbs and I would overtake her on the descent. She eventually won the positional challenge and disappeared ahead into the distance.
At some point, I saw a familiar car coming towards me in the distance. The roads were lovely and quiet at that time in the morning, and as it got closer, the registration plate confirmed it was Ruth who was heading to event parking to support me (we’d agreed that it would be an early start for little benefit and there didn’t seem to be many other supporters going for the start, so she would get there ahead of T2). As she passed, she gave a few toots on the horn and I gave a wave. I’d see her again soon.
Coming up to the end of the first lap I was feeling good, saw Paul (again) and Mark who were marshalling the bike route, and got some supporting shouts from them. We came back into the race zone and had to cross the runners. The online briefing AND the in person briefing made it clear at the crossing point, cyclists had priority 1, then runners, then everyone else. As I came into the turn, I had the brakes on and started to cross the path, the runners continued on into the road, and the marshals seemed not to give any indication to either of us. More brakes, a last minute decision to go in front of the runner and a bit of a shout “cyclist” meant I just about cleared it through, but it was closer than it should have been. I tried to settle and carry on.. More crowds, signs and marshals and bikes seemingly going in different directions. I wasn’t familiar with this bit of the course, but at the last minute saw the “Lap 2” arrow pointing right for a hard turn, the marshal was shouting at bikers who had gone the wrong way, all a little bit messy, as I straightened having made the turn, I got a shout of “you caught me !!”. It was Catriona who was one of the riders who went left and had to turn around. “Mine wasn’t a short cut, yours was a long cut” I joked and got my head back down for lap 2.
The first part of the second lap was waiting for the aid station. I’d already swapped my front two bottles and was nearing the end of the second bottle. At the station I would CHANGE DOWN GEAR (tried hard to remember that), then stop and hand over those two empties, bring my rear saddle held bottle to the front cage and grab a High5 bottle and a water bottle just in case. I also took the jacket off and handed that over. “Saturday Night Dave” had written name, club and number on the three bottles, so I was confident I would get that back at the end. In the 113 last year, the top I wore was an old Aldi top I wore for gardening, but it was an old cycling jacket. Covered in the snot I had cleared my nose with for the first lap, I threw it at the aid station at the second lap and told them they could get rid. It had a couple of holes and I wouldn’t miss it. It actually turned up in the post a week later. The marshal had taken my number and the team at 113 had posted it to me! After a wash, I’m now a little sentimentally attached to that top!
Anyway, with the aid station plan executed and back onto the road, it was more of the same for lap 2. One of the first things my coach told me about bike training early on was that she wanted me to get a power meter and to stop using speed as a measure of effort. Earlier in the year I got a power meter fitted and changed my bike computer top drop the “speed average/current” fields and put in the “Power Now” and “Power Ride Average” data fields. I knew from the recce ride and training rides that about 150w-160w was about my target power. My coach suggested if there was a little more than that in the tank not to worry, but was no pressure to try to target anything higher.
My ride started at about 180-190w average, which on the second lap I was making a conscious effort to try to get down. I was trying a little less on the climbs, and not pushing as hard on the flats. I had already started thinking about the run. That damn run.
Before I knew it, I was passing Paul and then Mark at their marshal stations again and I was coming in to the finish. I took the corner crossing the runners a little slower this time, conscious of the previous near miss, and took the next left like a pro (avoiding heading out onto a completely unnecessary “Bonus Lap 3” that Luke would have been proud of, but not today) to come to the bike finish.
Unclipped and on the brakes, I stopped before the line and dismounted, stopped the bike computer and ran (hobbled) into T2. Just as I got onto the carpet I heard and saw Ruth and Ryan cheering me on. I know it’s hard as a supporter in these events to try and be at the right place at the right time, all with pretty much having no idea where anybody is or if you’ve missed them, but it was great to see them there at the end of that ride.
T2
Putting the bike in, Katie’s bike was already in, so she was in and off on the run as expected with her earlier start. James’ bike was still out. He’s a stronger cyclist than me, but was probably still recovering from his 10k PB attempt the day before (that I suggested he gave a miss!). Bike shoes were off and trainers on. For those who have seen any of my runs, you might notice I seem to ALWAYS have my run bag/backpack with me (phone, keys, gels, drinks). I even wore it at Frampton 10k, where there were only about 3 of use wearing something like that. Probably looked down on by some as unnecessary, but I’ll continue to do what works for me. For this race though, I knew it had very good coverage of aid stations. Each having the same gels I use, High5 drink and water, not to mention the “buffet” on the first station. With all that in mind, I’d decided to leave the bag at home. Not an easy decision, but I wanted this to feel like a clean run, I’d feel lighter and faster without it. As such, I put my sunglasses and cap on, grabbed my two gels and started off on the run. My plan was to always have two gels on me, have one every 30 minutes, and when I’d used one, grab a replacement at the aid station.
“The Run”
Well here we are. “The run”. The legs are heavy and I go out too fast no matter what I do. Just the adrenaline, but the body normally slows me down. As a side note, I had a lovely brick ride/run on the Saturday I forgot to tell you about. The training plan had a 27 minute easy ride (I did on the turbo) and then a TEN minute run. It was lovely. I’d highly recommend those numbers for a brick run. Why one earth do we all carry on after ten minutes?!?!
This wasn’t a ten minute run through, this was a 13.1 mile run. The first lap was around 9 minute miles. I hadn’t really set a hard pace, but I was thinking that my marathon target pace of 10 minute miles would be okay if I could hold that. A 2hr10 minute half would be perfect, that would be target. 30 minutes off the 2023 showing would be just what I was after.
So here I am doing 9’s. I’m feeling comfortable and the heart rate is fine. Still I know I need to settle down, so I just try to relax and enjoy it. The first aid station passes and I grab some water and a little high5 and crack on. The training plan notes had it to get a move on through the aid stations…. Looking back the words were “be assertive at the aid stations, grab water for over the head and iso / coke, one mouthful, chuck, go!”. I think I missed the “one mouthful” bit and probably was overconsuming the high5 drink.
30 mins in, had my gel. First 5k and I’m running 9:15 miles. Heart rate is still around 155 and not going up. Feeling okay.
It’s 4.5 mile laps, with aid stations roughly at 1.5 miles, 3 miles and the finish (that you run past to continue onto the next lap). I went through the lap finish feeling strong. This is going okay. I see Ryan ( did I see Ruth? I can’t remember) and as I run through the car park ready to hit the woods I see my brother in law and father in law. “Hiya Colin” I should to my father in law, and crack on with lap 2.
Almost immediately I see James Baker now out on the run. He’s walking. I stop and walk with him for a quick head check. “You alright?” I say. “No, I’m f****ed mate” he says. I can’t remember what I said in reply, but it was along the lines of “no, your body is, your mind isn’t”, “get your walk /dialled in no matter what the numbers are, just do the walk and then do the run”. He knows this, he survived his marathon this year when I didn’t even get to the start line, but it’s always nice to have someone to remind you of what you have to do. Even nicer when they are out there doing the same thing, rather than shouting it from the sidelines. As I ran off I passed some supporters who were giving some encouragement with a “well done Dave” and clapping. As I passed, I said “there is a guy following who’s dressed like this, he’s called James, give him a big shout”. 10 seconds later I heard them erupt in support. James, if you are reading this, I hope you remember that bit, I take all the credit for that bit!
Lap two is more of the same It’s going suspiciously well. That said, most of my marathon training went suspiciously well, up until the part when it doesn’t. I remember that in Berkeley. There was a lot of “this is fine” up until it wasn’t. Looking back and reading that report again, that was about mile 15, but I dug in and got going.
I can remember that point in this race. It was at Somerford Keynes. The small village where we end up back in civilisation. This was about mile 8. I’m running with a bloke who is knackered. “you okay?” I say, “I’m empty” he says. “What lap you on” I say. The answer to that question is meaning he’s nearly there or he has a bloody long afternoon in store. “Last lap” he says. “I’m on two mate, you are nearly there, dig ang crack on, good luck” I say.
We carry on in silence, my mind goes back to this part of the course in 2023. Me and Lee running this section. Him trying to talk to me, me barely managing one word replies. This time though, I’m okay.. okayish. I’m seeing a lap pace of 10:ish on my watch for the first time. In one way that’s good, that’s target pace, not a problem, but it also shows my pace is dropping. I’m feeling it now. Somerford Keynes brings back the memories of hurt, that bloke on his last lap reminds me of what is to come.
I come through the finish area again, for the last time I take the left lane for an extra lap, the “bonus lap”.One final lap, where I can say “this is the last time” at everything I pass. I see Ryan again and hand him an empty cup. I appeared to become quite conscious about the efforts of the marshals, and had been keeping my litter down my tri top!
The last lap was a grind. There is no easy way to write this. My motivation to fill the next page or two waxing lyrically about the challenges and dark places I was in is as low as the motivation I had to keep running. About mile 10 the rot had set it. I got to the aid station and decided to treat myself to a wee. I needed one, and perhaps in other runs I would have kept going, but today, at this point, I was using it as an excuse to have a little stop. I knew coming out of the woods there would be aid station with a toilet. That was my “comfort break”. There would be no comfort, but it would at least be a brief moment of not running. I clear the woods, aid station there, look for the portaloo, there isn’t one, I remember the scene, there are public toilets to my left – “are we using those toilets?” I shout to the volunteers “YEP” they shout back. I run towards it, Steps. THREE lots of steps, three identical doors. My mind is running all kinds of processes to try and work out what steps to use, there are signs, I can’t read them. A helpful (and concerned looking) member of the public points to the set on the right, “those are the gents”. I walk up the steps. Only three steps, but I make it. In front of me are some toilet cubicles, and some urinals on the left. I fumble with my tri shorts (only as I write this do I realise I’ve never worn a tri-suit, and I think I’m currently grateful for that??? Feel free to let me know how that works in a tri suit) and undo the posh/expensive but ultimately “a piece of string” that keeps my shorts up. I start my wee (apologies for the detail here, I’m trying to keep it PG) and lean against the side of the wall. A rest. I’m multitasking. This is relief in both senses of the word.
I will never find the member of the public who walked in at that point, but I hope these words sitting on the internet may serve as an apology. You were having a lovely day out, probably with your family at the Cotswold Park and Beach. A quick pop to the facilities, you found some wierdo leaning against the side of the toilet breathing heavily and reliving himself . You might expect that in Wetherspoons late on a Friday night, but not in lakeside retreat. I hope the numerous other runners around the woods in similar attire gave some kind of context to our meeting. With my work done, I made a half hearted attempt to “wash my hands” and headed out to the aid station. Chucked the water, drank the High5 and took some more water to badly chuck over my head again. Back out into the wood.
Just a parkrun left. Just a horrible, horrible parkrun to go. My pace was now reading numbers starting with 11s. Was still okay I thought. Not about numbers anymore, this is survival. It was feeling a lot hotter. That run along the main road my lips were dry. I had the Aqua gels with me, but my stomach wouldn’t have appreciated any more sugar. As I ran along, there were a couple of coughs, coughs that kinda sounded like and felt like dry heaves. There were a couple of ladies running ahead. They turned back with concerned looks on their faces. Their concerned looks now concerned me. Was I about to throw up? I’ve never done that on a run before, but it certainly felt like it was a possibility. I had visions of leaning into the hedge and returning all the wares from the aid station. I tried to settle, control my breathing and relax. It worked, the stomach and lungs got back on with the slow slog along the road.
Passed over the log one last time, and did the now usual routine at the “buffet” aid station, I knew at this point I was only about 1.5 miles from the finish. Gritting my teeth, I put one foot in front of another. My usual technique of “counting” didn’t work. I just couldn’t be bothered. The tank was not only empty, it had been closed up and stuck in the back of the warehouse with the lights turned off.
Somerford Keynes turned up again. As I write this now, I have started to realise that little stretch is now the manifestation of my struggles in the 113 events. A marshal tried to give me a cheer on, I couldn’t even manage the 1 work reply, a grunt might have been the best I could do.
As I clear the village, you can start to hear the finish. Over the crossing point one last time. Into the woods and a turn to head back to the lake. As I come up towards the home straight, I take a walk. I’m dead, I can barely run, but in 30 seconds I’ll be rounding the corner and running up that finish line. I’ll be running, so I need to build up the last of the dregs of what effort I’ve got and put it all into a finish run.
I start down the straight, the aid station to my left, I can’t help but grab one last cup of water and throw it over me, it’s cooling, refreshing, whilst short lived, it’s enough to give me the drive to keep the run over the line.
I cross the line and it’s over. Someone points and tells me I forgot my medal. Memories of Berkeley. I don’t give a s*** about my medal, I want to lie down. I volunteer who herself deserves a medal comes over to me and puts a medal over my head and lets me know that she’s going to remove my timing chip. She lets me know she’s done and I take a couple of steps and climb down to the floor for a lie down. A nice lie down. It’s over. I’m “finished”, in both senses of the word.
Finish
In my new world of “done”, of exhaustion and emptiness, I was greeted by someone who I now know as “Little Miss F***** Chirpy”. You know her as Katie Keates, or someone who looks like Katie Keates. This person does not appear to have completed a middle distance triathlon, she appears to have finished her local parkrun and found that they are selling cream cakes for 10p at the village fete. Looking back at my Berkeley race report again, you’ll find it documented “Blimey I’m a grumpy finisher”. The pattern continued as I sat there trying to recover. Katie’s lad got me a water and I started to come back to some sense of normality. Katie, thank for putting up with, and looking after “F***** Grumpy” (my reference to myself) Dave at the finish line.
We had a chat about times, my mind wasn’t functioning, I couldn’t remember what my 2023 time was and what my goal was. Katie was telling me times from the results page but I wasn’t clicking what it was. I knew my run was slow. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t what I wanted.
Shoes off, I walked into the lake, it was cold bliss. Splashed water over my face and tried to cool down. It was hot, I was hot. I got out of the lake and for the first time that day I was a bit cold. Off to transition area for a change of clothes and a tidy up. As I got there, James was running past, about to start his last lap. I screamed him on, knowing how hard it would be. I’d just been there, he was in that dark place from lap one. He just had to dig in and get another lap done. Ruth found me at transition and we went back to the finish. We found the Baker support team and sat with them, cheering the runners on.
I got my phone and started to try to understand the times. My 2023 time was 06:58 for the race and I’d done today in 06:15. I couldn’t believe it. I remember the “30 minutes” goal my coach and I talked about. It felt like a pipe dream, like the 4h30 marathons I kept promising myself. But here I was actually looking at the numbers. I’d put a decent shift in. 30 minutes off and then some.
Swim was 3 minutes faster, T1 was 3 minutes faster (half the time!). The bike went from 3h23m to 3h12m on course that was hilly. T2 went from 3 minutes down to 2 minutes, and the run. Well, the run was bad, but it’s all about context. The run had gone from 2h41 to 2h17. I’d taken 24 minutes off the run. I’d beaten last years time by 45 minutes overall. I was pleased with it. Tired, but pleased.
We carried on cheering on those who were crossing the finish line, and encouraging (and praying) for those starting yet another lap. Ruth got me a bap.. “What do you want in it?” she said “Everything” I said. It looked lovely, tasted okay, but after 10 minutes I had to concede that the body wasn’t in the mood for food, so I just kept sipping the water. Glad my time of gels had come to an end.
We saw James over the line, running over with the kids. He was done for, but he stayed standing. He’d just completed his first ever Middle Distance Triathlon. All the TTG starters had crossed the finish line.
What’s Next?
My coach messaged me on the Friday before with “Will speak to you after the race and refuse to accept any irrational decisions made in the first 24 hours. #24hourrule”. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but on that last lap my mind went to that “full” I’d been thinking of. There was no way I wanted to do that. No way I could do that. I didn’t wat to do it. It was a stupid idea and something for others, better than me, to do. When I finished the race, had something to eat and calm down I thought again about it, and again I thought “nope, not gonna”. It wasn’t something I felt capable of.
A lazy Sunday night came and went, watched England lose at the Euro final. I’m not much of a football fan, but some of those players looked like they were on their third lap for parts of that game. We got home and had an early night.
Next morning, I woke normally. The body? It felt okay. Okay stairs were a little challenging, but I’ve had worse from Marathon training runs. Strangely the elbow area of my arms is a little achy, not sure what that’s about, but possibly down to the position on the bike. Apparently in the bike leg, I set PRs for 40k, 50k, 80k and 50 miles. Perhaps I’ll learn from that and dial the bike down a little next time and see if the run goes better, but I’ll let me coach work all that out.
So here I am. Monday evening, the day after writing this race report. I’d booked the day off as I did after 113. This was an “A race”, and I wanted not only to be able to recover in peace, but also to process my thoughts. If you are still reading this here, then apologies for making you sit through what has been a roller coaster of 12 months as I use this document to give myself something like therapy.
So, this is the “what next” section, so I’m glad to report I did make a plan, and my coach didn’t consider any of the decisions “irrational” (that’s subjective).
I booked Chester Marathon for October 204. I’ve unfinished business with the marathon and Brighton left a sour taste in my mouth. One that countless gels didn’t clear, so the only way is to get back out there and pound the streets and see if that 4h30 is possible.
I then booked Outlaw Half for 2025 and the accommodation. Why Outlaw Half? Apparently, that’s good race prep for the Outlaw Full Distance I’ve decided I’ll be doing in 2025, having turned 50 in April. Accommodation is booked for both the Half in May and for the Full in July (having to guess the dates for the Full, but the joy of free cancellation of AirBnB). After a good nights sleep, you realise that those events challenge, but the completion is the goal. The achievement is the finish line and not the time. Can I complete the full? I don’t know. History tells me I didn’t think I could do a Half, but I did. I’ll just have to trust my coach and the training. I also know that every single member of Tri Team Glos will be supporting me in the training and following my progress that day.
So, Dear Reader, like the race yesterday, we are both glad to get to the finish line on this little piece. I’ll be trying to do a “Sprint” triathlon at Berkeley next week, and then my coach will have filled the plan with “marathon training blocks”.
