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