Cardiff sprint triathlon and the world's longest blog post

Today was the day. After months of hard graft, cycling to work, nursing sore bits and smelling like piss (chlorine), the triathlon was here...

The Jolliffe clan were out in force once again (thank you) as we all crawled out of bed between 5.30 and 6am this morning, ready for the trip to Cardiff. They really have been the keenest of spectators in the past couple of weeks, and praise the lord that I had them to help me round and/or take photos for the purpose of this blog. I also had a bunch of 'good luck' flowers delivered to work on Friday (Rosa you are wonderful) and loads of texts from my friends so I was unbelievably motivated.

I slept for a grand total of about 3 hours last night, going through everything that could possibly go wrong in my head and went to the toilet at least three times. DISTURBED SLEEP IS BAD FOR THE TRAINING ATHLETE. I woke up this morning feeling nervous, moody and had a dodgy stomach (that classic combo). Totally ready for a triathlon.

I am someone who has famously said (on more than one occasion) "I have no sympathy with people who get nervous. I never get nervous about anything". This morning, I was definitely eating my words, ingesting them quickly and shitting them out the other end. Running doesn't reaaaally make me nervous because it's just walking but more quickly. You just have to put one foot in front of the other (OH COCKY TWAT). But this was a whole new ball game honeys. Adding in potentially leaky goggles, a cheap tri-suit that could disintegrate at any moment and A BIKE was enough to bring my breakfast banana back up before being subtly swallowed in the car on the way up...

Also nervous about not being able to wear my make-up...

When we arrived I did EXACTLY what Chrissie Wellington told me not to do in 'A Beginners Guide to Triathlon' (go and buy it immediately, my name is in there), and started checking out everyone else's equipment. So many posh bikes with those clip-in shoes and snazzy triathlon suits that definitely weren't bought off ebay at the cheapest price possible. Also, some people had their flipping names on their tri-suit... What was I getting myself into?!?

Because I'm a twat, I estimated that my swim time for 400m would be 7 minutes. Therefore I was placed in the last - and fastest - heat with all the professionals. After racking my bike and setting my kit out in the EXACT same way as the man next to me (he looked pro and I was clueless), I did a little warm-up and made my way to the start of the swim. By this point I was so pale and shaky and mum kept throwing me concerned looks. I was shitting myself and haven't eaten gluten for WEEKS, so couldn't even blame that. Bugger.

This is like a Daily Mail long-lense perv shot

"So then, who's nervous? Actually nah I recognise pretty much all of you in this heat so I know you'll be fine," said the man who was giving my heat our debrief. WHAT THE FUCK, NO YOU DO NOT. YOU DO NOT KNOW ME AND THEREFORE I WILL NOT BE FINE. I had fake tanned on Friday (obviously) but it was quickly draining from my face and I just wanted to get in the water. The man said some stuff that I couldn't take in because I was conscious of the fam looking at me through the glass window, and then he said "right we're starting in about 40 seconds". Me and a really tall girl got into the same lane and were told to keep to our sides of the lane, which was a relief because I didn't want to get kicked in the face or weed on, if the occasion so happened to arise. When we started, the girl went off like a shot anyway, so I needn't have worried.

The swim was unbelievably choppy and I was so far behind the other girl in my lane, but kept an eye on the man to my right who was going about the same pace as me. Shock horror, my shitty goggles leaked and I had to stop twice to empty them - but that's what you get when your goggles are older than your first thong (about 11 years, for anyone who's interested). When I was a swimmer back in ye olde day, doing a 400m race was pretty much death. I only ever did one and it was the equivalent of a marathon. NOT TODAY SISTERS. It felt like a properrrrr sprint; the first 6 lengths went so quickly and I hardly had time to breathe. Before I knew it, my end of lane man was putting a float into the pool - no, not because I was drowning, but to signal two lengths to go. In my heyday (am I really that old) I could knock out 50m freestyle in 30 seconds, so I got my head down and kicked like a muthaaaafuckaaaaaa. When I finished (9th in my heat) my little helper bloke said well done and I hoisted myself out the water, grinning like a cheshire cat.

I WISH YOU COULD SEE MY SMILE

Running into the transition area and whipping my hat off like I was starring in the latest L'oreal advert, I was met by mum, dad and Rach all taking photos of me. At this point I realised I was having THE BEST TIME EVER - in the words of my new favourite triathlete (@TheHisKnibs): I fucking love this shit!!!!

As I sat my padded ass down on my bike seat, a marshall said to me "go on girlllll, you look so girly - now catch that man". Let it be known right now that I am not great on a bike. I powered off down the hill as if I was the female Lance Armstrong at the height of my well-documented drug-taking career. I was up that man's ass like an Ann Summers special.

This would not last... Approximately 2 minutes into the bike I was met by the biggest hill I had ever seen (possibly). It was like riding up a death slide backwards. By the time I'd got to the top I'd been overtaken by everyone in my heat (HOORAY FOR ME), but somehow I was still smiling?! People from the earlier heats were running back down the hill, cheering on us late-starters as they were about to finish their race. It was amazing, everyone is amazing, triathlons are amazing.

Padded ass cheeks, check

The two-lap bike is not much to talk about apart from it was bloody hilly (apart from one massive downhill where I SWEAR I broke the speed limit) and I learnt very late on that standing up on your bike is an absolute shitter on your energy stores. The bike is so technical and I think I would have to do a lotttt of work to get significantly better at it, hmmmm. Also, because I started in the last heat and wasn't catching anyone up any time soon, I was very quickly at the back of the whole race. I knew I wasn't actually going the slowest and that the people in my heat were proper, experienced triathletes, but still it was a bit odd to be actually at the back. Or as my mum called me, 'the tail runner' - much nicer. The marshalls throughout were so so so good, and the welsh accent is so soft yet SO encouraging. I wanted to do well for all of my welsh friends that I made along the way.

Finishing the bike was such a good feeling, knowing that I was about to start my run and could finally take my bloody helmet off kept me going right until the end. I was a bit nervous about getting jelly legs and collapsing in front of everyone, but then again I do love the attention so either way I'd be a winner.

Rachel told me I was putting my bike on wrong and I didn't even get pissy - SO BLOODY HAPPY

The lady at the transition area complimented me on my outfit for a second time as I ran past her, and obviously mum, dad and Rach were getting snap-happy so I had to keep smiling. Honestly, it's probably the most I've ever smiled on a Sunday. The run was pretty much 5km of fields and wooded area with a tiny bit of road chucked in - so good practice for cross-country season if nothing else. It had a bit that went back on yourself, so I could see people finishing as I was starting. At first I was like ahhhh whatever they started half an hour before I did - until I saw the man who was two swimming lanes down from me, absolutely storming it down the finishing straight. What a lad. I had shit to doooooo. I absolutely love cross-country so running down all the mud paths and all that was an absolute treat. I also felt really professional with my tri-suit on, however realising that I wasn't wearing a sports bra and felt no bounce whatsoever was slightly earth shattering...

Again the marshalls on the run were unbelievable - I couldn't see anyone in front of me and was worried that everyone had gone home, but dad assured me afterwards that I made up loads of time on the run. I LOVE RUNNING. Anyway as I made it into the last field there was a marshall shouting 'GO ON EMMA' - bloody hell I'm FAMOUS. Oh no - mum had just accosted a random man to shout my name while I was wearing next to nothing and you could probably see the outline of my foo-foo, but no biggie. With 100m to go I put in a last kick and made it to the finish in one piece. I saw a photographer and flashed my best ever Emma Jolliffe smile, but to be honest I looked like shit. Hugs all round from the family and I realised again that I was smiling like a massive idiot.

END

Post-race chat over and done with, we watched the medals being given out. Dad timed me at 1 hour 14 minutes from start to finish, but I didn't know if that was good or not... The girl who got the bronze in the ladies race finished in 1 hour 9 minutes, so I was pretty chuffed that I was only 5 minutes behind and could've maybe got closer if I wasn't in the last heat and therefore missed out on getting in-amongst the racing. Surprisingly, I was spot on with my swim time and did 7 minutes dead - over the moon with that one thank yaaaa very much. My run was 23.02 which again, YAY. So I guess that puts my bike at around the 40 minute mark? It felt super sluggy but I'm quite pleased with that time. The race wasn't chipped so the tri club are still piecing everyone's time together - but I'd like to think I didn't do TOOOOO badly for my first attempt... I feel I could, and probably will, write a list of pros, cons and tricks/tips for your first triathlon, but basically JUST DO ONE. There were even 3 people doing a relay, so one person did each sport, HOW WOW. And what else would you possibly want to do on a Sunday?!?

Reflecting at the finish... lol jkzzz there was a fit man

Run to the Beat 10k: Running for Jack

I mostly run for selfish reasons. I like the free therapy it gives me, I enjoy racing and it means I can eat more than I probably should. But when Rosa tagged me in a Facebook post from the charity CRY, calling for runners to make up their Run to the Beat 10km team, I couldn't say no.

 

For those of you that don't know, CRY stands for Cardiac Risk in the Young. It's a growing charity that not only does great work, but is truly appreciative of every single penny it gets. When Jack passed away 5 years ago it was put down to an underlying heart disease that had never been picked up, and our whole community was left asking 'why'. Jack's death has affected a lot of people in a lot of different ways, but the support of - and for - CRY has been constant. Since that terrible day over £15,000 has been raised by Jack's family, friends and even friends of friends - he's made an impact that he would've never imagined possible. Over the years we've been runners, cyclists, football players, raffle ticket sellers, dashing Santa Claus's, auctioneers and much more. The importance of CRY as a charity is invaluable - all money raised goes towards heart screenings for young people around the country, in the hope that any problems are found and lives are saved. So yes, when Rosa tagged me in that Facebook post there was no way that I would turn down the opportunity to do my bit, in memory of the late, great Jack Boulton.

Held in Wembley, Run to the Beat was advertised as a flat course, with famous DJs dotted around the course to keep us all going - we'd be running to the beat, duh... Now the line-up was released and the only person I recognised on the list was Nick Grimshaw. Don't get me wrong, everyone loves a bit of Grimmy but COME ON he can't carry the whole bloody thing. Sister Rachel assured me that most of the DJs had at least one song that had been played on 1Xtra, so I wasn't too bothered. The whole Jolliffe clan went up on the Saturday, shopped in London for a bit but spent our evening in the hotel watching X Factor in our pjs. Whatever, I had more important things to worry about. I'd pledged to raise over £200 and get under 47 minutes for the first time.

As a regular runner I was worried that people wouldn't want to donate or think it wasn't that much of a challenge. Putting any idea of this to bed STRAIIIIGHT away, I decided to aim for a minute and a half PB of sub-47 and hoped people would realise how flipping hard that would be for my little stumps. Luckily I have the greatest family and friends in the entire world who - with unwavering faith in my running ability - helped me reach my target AND THEN SOME before the big day. I went to the start line knowing I'd raised over £400 for CRY and that was enough to keep me (almost) going for the whole race. It's funny how much more determined you feel when you have such a worthy cause behind you.

I ran the first 5km in 22.38 - this is close to my PB. I wish I could tell you more about it but I'd made the rookie error of wearing brand new shorts on the day and they were firmly lodged into my nether regions. I'd handily done a once-over with my razor the night before otherwise I probably would've exposed even more than was already on show... So yes my first 5km was spent pulling pink lycra out of my ass and hoping that no one noticed I was wearing a bright green 'novelty' thong. Excellent.

If you look very closely...

The second 5km was definitely a 'hang on for dear life' moment. At 5.5km there was a whacking great hill (NOT ADVERTISED!!!!), at which point the 45 minute pacer zoomed past me. He was quite tasty on the old eyes and had a tan almost as good as my (fake) one so I tried to snuggle in with him. Unfortunately this didn't work and therefore I had the mother of all tantrums; I started walking, then stomping, up the hill before screaming "NOOOO" and remembering what I was there for. Jack was always on the cross-country teams at school, despite never training, and he always used to finish in the top 10 with such an air of casualness. He must've been knackered at the time, but would never fuss. And here I was having a sulk over a little hill. I gave myself a good talking to, picked my knees up and made it over that hill! I didn't stop until the finish line - so thank you Jack.

The last 2km was by far the best - the aforementioned DJs were nowhere to be seen on the course until this point and (OH SURPRISINGLY) the addition of some banging tunes helped me on my merry little way. At the 8km marker I spotted Mum before she spotted me and started waving like a mad woman. She told me I was doing really well and for once I actually believed her. My watch said 37.30 so I knew I had 9 and half minutes to make the last 2km... Cutting it fine, especially as my thighs were slapping together like two drunk sumo wrestlers and I was worried about chaffing away my perfect tan. Dad and Rach were expertly positioned on the bridge above the course - it took me a while to find them but I managed a quick wave as I went under the bridge and heard Dad's voice booming all over Wembley.

My name is in there - somewhere..

I finally reached the 400m to go sign with my watch at 45 minutes exactly... TWO MINUTES TO RUN 400M? I do that easily in training, this will be a doddle. LOL, well I was very much mistaken. Just for the banter there was another hill into the finish and I felt like I was going backwards and that my shorts were just going upwards. Again, thoughts of why I was doing this and the generosity of people who'd donated spurred me on more than anything else I've ever felt when I was running. I didn't ever care that it WOULD be a PB, I wanted to get under 47 minutes for CRY, for the people who'd had enough faith in me to give me money, and most importantly for Jack. At about 100m to go I put on a classic short person sprint, arms and legs going everywhere and my thighs moving so fast that they merged into one big, wobbly piece of flesh. I heard the Jolliffes at the finish which was AMAZING. Not sure why, but Dad was continually shouting "EM, EM, EM" - maybe a new cheerleading chant? I have to admit I did overtake probably like 15 people in the home straight HAHA YOU LAZY FUCKS, and when I crossed the line I looked at my watch.

Dat assssss

FOURTY-SIX FIFTY-FIVE. 46.55. 46 minutes and 55 seconds. I punched the air like I was attempting to get on the cover of next year's brochure and realised I had the biggest grin on my face, like EVER.

Mum, Dad and Rach were waiting in the finishing area so we all hugged and OH, how we laughed at my camel toe, and then we went to find the CRY ladies. They were absolutely amazing, gave me a goodie bag, took my photo and told me my tan was great.

I told them why I was running for them and mum explained how much we, as a community, have done for them in the past 5 years. They were genuinely impressed and so grateful, which made me feel all fuzzy inside and suddenly very proud of Keynsham, Saltford and the surrounding areas. Events like this are so important, and where possible, everyone I know has contributed in some way or another. Jack has made us all better people, and we will never forget him. RIP x

Race report: Aztec West 5km Handicap

Walking out of work to see a neon-lycra clad Sarah Everitt hanging out of her car window shrieking madly, you'd be forgiven for thinking we were off to a festival... Oh no no no - this mild racket going on in the centre of town was due to the trial run in Bristol and West's latest race series: the Aztec West 'Fast' 5km.

Once I'd ducked inside the car we made our way to the faraway land of Aztec West (mum didn't think we'd make it in time from Keynsham, hence Sarah stepping up to surrogate mother duties) and were the first ones there; massively keen. I was after a PB and desperately wanted to get under 23 minutes before my 23rd birthday. Sarah seemed more interested in going to the toilet at this stage, but what's new.......

The new Aztec West series has taken over from the 'Bridge Inn/Pomphrey Hill' series of last year, thanks to yet ANOTHER housing estate being built over a beloved running route. But with a lot of hard work from Chris, Roger and Keith, a new race has emerged from the ashes and was promising fast times. As a trial for the upcoming fixtures, it was decided that a 'handicap race' would be run to test out the course and soooo that's how we ended up in a rather posh trading estate on a Tuesday evening.

"NOW WAIT!!!" I hear you cry, "WHAT IS A HANDICAP RACE? ARE YOU ALL OKAY?". We are all fiiiiiine. Until about 6 months ago I didn't have a clue what a handicap race was either. Baaaasically, everyone enters their 5km PB beforehand and the 'handicap master' (a lot less gimp-suit than it sounds) arranges the entrants into some sort of order. But not just any order (obviously). The slowest entered athlete starts first, followed by the second slowest etc etc, and the speed-machine blokeys are left coming up the rear (steadyyyy). If the 'master' gets his timings right, teeeechnically everyone should finish at the same time, which is GREAT if you love mass rioting, rugby scrums and mosh pits as 78 people all try to cross the same line. It is actually great though, as it means everyone has someone to chase and I even got to run next to some of the fit male runners for a teeny bit as they overtook me. Wonderful.... ARE YOU STILL WITH ME? I hope I've explained that well, if anyone has a better explanation then let me know.

Last year's handicap race finish....            *not really

Anywho, so this trial was a handicap and I'd entered my time as 23.00. Sarah was down for like 12 minutes 15 seconds or something (haha joking, I think she was down at 19.40 and was banned from overtaking me no matter what). More and more people started arriving, much to Chris' delight, and it was starting to look like a really good race. I'm sure there was an international athlete there? Rich Peters? Thinking out loud... but I'm sure he was there. Being the keeners that we always are, we managed a good warm-up although spent a fair amount of time aimlessly searching for the start line with no luck. Turns out it was just a dot on the floor - WHY DIDN'T WE THINK OF THAT?!?! The only glitch of the whole event - I suppose that's what trials are for, after all. Mum and Rach arrived just in the nick of time to get roped into marshalling; excellent for me as I need constant attention when I'm running and it was a three lap course.

The first runner was down for 31 minutes - so once they'd started I had 8 minutes to spare (are you getting this!?). It was a bloody quick 8 minutes, mainly because I was trying not to think about shitting myself (#glutenproblems) and also because wellllll everything goes faster when you don't want it to happen. Me and a man from another club (god knows which one, but he was very lovely) were both down for 23 mins so started together. Anything under 23 would've been good enough for me, I was gunning for 22.59 so decided to stick behind him for the first lap and hope he was pacing himself well....... Reaching the 1km mark in 4.21 I was right up his arse (LOL, every single time) and I could see mum and Rach. Obviously this meant trying to look like I was having a wonderful time and make sure I didn't look out of breath. It seemed to work and Rach even did a "WOOOOOooooo..." (to fade).

No photos of me, but here's Sarah smiling, for some reason.

The km markers were confusing because there were 3 laps but 5 markers and so just after the 1km you ran past 4km, but you had actually only done 1.6km, or something.... I overtook my mate after the first lap, but was terrified he'd re-overtake me for the rest of the race.

Anyway the second lap was a bit of a blur apart from getting overtaken by Nina, who not only managed to look super-glamorous and cool, but was also TALKING TO MY MOTHER!! This made me very sad, but I concentrated on her perfectly plaited hair and imagined I looked that effortless... Hahahah oh Emma. As it was 3 laps I tried to think of it in miles instead of kilometres, so starting on the third lap in about 15 mins I knew I had to cling on for dear life and not think about how tingly my arms had gone. I was working bloody hard. 

Having people cheer you on, no matter how attention-seeking it seems, is actually a godsend. It's hard to pick out voices sometimes, but I'm pretty sure Roger and Chris were at the start of each lap, followed by Alan and Sheila a little further up, then obviously mum and Rach were stood at the 1km/4km ishhhhh. This was more amazing than anyone can imagine (cue dramatic music). Knowing that people are waiting to see you (I should note that they were waiting for everyone, not just me) is suuuuch a good motivator and on the last lap was definitely needed. 

A difference race and I look HUGE but yay for supporters

Mum said to me afterwards that it looked like I was slowing down, ohhhh but she was very much mistaken. And also, how bloody rude. Well maybe I did slow down as I went past her, but the last km I actually said to myself "this is like 800m, you can do 800m in less than 3 minutes". Scared of being overtaken by the people I'd ran past, as well as wanting to get to those who'd started in front of me (a bit of friendly competition never hurt anyone), I was genuinely running scared. I undertook someone on the last 300m (rebel), attempted a sprint at the end and crossed the line with the weirdest, numbest feeling in my arms, having pushed myself so hard and thought "WOW this is what Paula must feel like when she's pissed herself during another marathon".

I looked at my watch...


*tension*


...22.21!!!! 

Classic photo, classic reaction

I'd finally gone under 23 minutes, by 39 bloody seconds! As I beat my handicap by a fair amount, I finished near the front of the pack and had a relatively empty finish. By the time I'd got my breath back and turned around, that 'mass rioting' that I spoke about earlier was in full force. With a finishing tunnel about 2 metres wide and around 30 people finishing at once, all hell broke lose. Well, as much hell that can break lose at an amateur running race. I was quite glad not to be in that pack (although it was all the fast people so maybe I should be aiming for that), but Sarah wasn't quite so lucky. I'm sure it wasn't as dramatic as I'm imagining, but I'm sure people were being pulled out of the scrum like a building had just collapsed..... Sarah did an AMAZING time of 19.08 and we even had a sweaty hug. 

Prizes were given for the fastest man and woman (Jessie did 17 mins something and continues to be one of my running idols), and the two who beat their handicaps by the most got a bottle of wine each... which made me think that maybe it's worth putting down a slower time, beating it by loads and then getting bliiiind drunk on free wine. HOLLAAAAA. But that would only be cheating myself, and wine makes me a sloppy drunk....

NON-RUNNING PHOTO ALERT. Mum, Rach and me

Everyone I spoke to afterwards was really pleased with their times. Overall I think handicap races are really fun in an aggressively-competitive way and a good way of getting a PB if you put down the right time. The Aztec West series is being billed as the 'Fast 5km' and the work everyone has done in getting it sorted has been immense. It's definitely one not-to-miss if you're after a quick time, a good race and to socialise with the friendliest running club in Bristol... Just as long as they find a start sign!