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

TRY-ATHLON

I am so puntastic. 

As someone who is never, ever, ever satisfied with what they have (until I get a Chanel 2.55, obviously), I decided to take on another little challenge. Working on the editorial team of a triathlon magazine* and being a former competitive swimmer (haha, such a twat) it was only a matter of time before I entered my first one**. Fourty-two quid (yes I'm paying that much) later, I had signed up for the Bath Multi-Sports Sprint Triathlon. WHY? WHO KNOWS!!!!

*I actually work on the special editions team, but we mainly work with 220 Triathlon magazine and so I've worked on loadssss of issues.
**This will actually be my second triathlon, I did my first one when I was 13 and came 8th... out of 9. I tried to drop out halfway through and my parents forced me to continue. Dad has a photo of me giving him the middle finger, charming chid. 

Anywaaaaay...

From now on some of my blog posts may be taking a sliiiightly different view, e.g. not all about running; this will be great for those of you who can't help but click on the link despite finding my incessant running chat boring and annoying, although I can't imagine cycling and swimming are any more thrilling or endearing. Shoutout to the stalkers, soz 'bout that. 

This should be a BREEEEZE...

Having worked on 'The Beginners Guide to Triathlon' (available in all good book stores), you'd be forgiven for thinking that I'd be an absolute PRO at being a triathlon beginner. I have to point out, as an editorial assistant I don't get to do THAAAAT much and instead checked a lot of website names and made sure that certain swimming cossies were still in stock... But I did catch onto the absolute importance of transitions between each activity. The seconds from swim, to bike, to run are apparently well vital so I started off my OFFICIAL TRIATHLON TRAINING PLAN at 6.30am on Friday morning by practising just that...

Transition training, for those not in the know (aka, moi) is known as 'brick training'. I don't know why, but it seems to make the white middle-class men of triathlon sound extremely pompous and more profesh. Whatever keeps ya happy, I guess. I was supposed to be doing a 'brick session' of swim to bike - I was going to go for a swim and then ride my bike home straight afterwards. Ever the morning-person, I slept in my £6 ASDA swimming costume (already sagging at my non-existence tits) and when my alarm went off at 6am I was just like 'NAAAAAHHH'. With motivation and commitment at an all time high, I instead went for a 6km bike ride (I think that's super short but it was half past bloody 6), chucked my bike down on the drive and ran back up the road for about 8 minutes.

I may or may not have edited this... #expert

I'd read (actually edited some copy, ooooh) about the 'jelly legs' that you get from running off the bike, but bloody hell I wasn't expecting that. My legs didn't even feel like my legs... Is this normal? I actually felt quite drunk which initially was GR8 although odd on a workday morning... but it quickly became a bit weird and wooooozy. Remembering I wasn't running towards the kebab van on a Saturday night, I checked my watch and it said 3 minutes 30-something... about 10 seconds later my legs came back to life and I metaphorically sobered up. I only have to run 5km in my triathlon so every minute counts - I have a feeling that me and my 'drunk legs' are going to become eveeeeen more well acquainted...

With that done, this weekend I decided to buy a bike helmet (because crushed skulls aren't cool, kids) and also a PULL BUOY. This is a fascinating piece of swimming kit that I used to use when I was 12, had a six-pack and swam over 16 hours a week. A 12 year-old girl with a six-pack looks exactly how it sounds... disgusting. Anywho, the pull buoy is an oversized polystyrene peanut that you whack between your legs (oi oiiiiiiii), meaning you can only use your arms and therefore get massive biceps and asked by an international swimmer how your shoulders got so big (childhood scars). In all seriousness though, I do need to use this pull buoy ting as I need to save my legs for the bike and run. Also 'Dentist Dave' (my mum's workmate) does triathlon and told me to get one.

Helmet and between-the-legs buoy

OHHHH and also as a little note that may be of importance/interest, a sprint triathlon is:
400m swim (16 lengths of a 25m pool)
20km bike
5km run

WISH ME LUCK AND LETS HOPE MY SHOULDERS DON'T GET ANY BIGGER!!!

Leaving the label on, don't want to get too attached...

Swapping feet for wheels

Last Wednesday I had an operation on my collarbone - I wish it was more dramatic than it actually was, just for the story-telling purposes, but it was all very boring and I've ended up with a few stitches. While I was there I said I ran a lot (god I am so predictable) and the nurse was ADAMANT that I shouldn't be running for at least a week. Cue an absolute look of horror from me - ever the keen sportswoman - especially when the nurse said "if you go running, your stitches will split and it'll be irreparable, your wound will be GAPING OPEN". Now I don't know what other people think of when they hear the word gaping, but I was imagining an extra 'lady area' hanging off my collarbone. 

WARNING GRAPHIC CONTENT

So, reluctantly, I've taken her advice and am having a run-free week. Bit annoying as I'd planned to do a 10k race and seemed to be running well, but THERE WE GO. Luckily one of my best friends Simone came to the rescue, and lent me her bike so that I don't become a fatty and/or find myself crawling up the walls with evening boredom. What a babe, I am eternally grateful.

The Simone-Wagon

I've just got back from my second bike ride this week and you know that extra lady area I was worried about? Well that was the least of my worries, apparently the one lady area that I have to deal with just isn't enjoying the bike as much as the rest of me. Think 'swollen'. ANYWAY, now we've got that out of the way...

The great thing about cycling is that you move so much quicker than when you're pounding the streets and ruining your ankle joints. I cycled 14 miles tonight in 1 hour - if I ran that fast I'd be setting some of short-woman world record. I also wasn't as disgustingly sweaty and out of breath, which was a nice change to my evening schedule. I don't know if I was just going quite slowly but an hour of cycling seemed to be a lottttt easier than an hour of running - maybe I wasn't working hard enough OR MAYBE I'M A BORN CYCLIST?! My lady parts are hoping not...

However I've also discovered that cyclists just aren't as happy as runners. I mean, yes maybe they all have sore genitals and are fed up of having thigh rash but there's no need to give such scathing looks to the clear amateur cyclist. After picking two flies out of my left eye on my first trip on the bike, I half-considered wearing my sunglasses... But I decided against it - I didn't think the middle-aged men in their shop-bought Great Britain jerseys would appreciate my fake Raybans, bleach blonde ponytail and little shorts, looking like I was starring in the opening credits of The O.C. I whacked on my lycra and shoved my hair up in an attempt to look semi-professional, but still got dirty looks and tutted at as they overtook me, obviously sticking to their 'formation' as if they're competing in a stage of the Tour de France. YES I KNOW WHAT THAT IS, I WORK FOR A TRIATHLON MAGAZINE. What I like about running is the cute little waves, nods and smiles that you get from fellow road runners, no matter how fast or slow they are going. It's just nice to be encouraging to the whole world, preach sisterrrrrrrr.

Not enjoying life, and with added bucktooth

I found it quite scary trying to control the bike, and myself, and keep the flies out of my mouth. Running is completely different; if I want to stop I can just do it myself, but having an extra component to think about made it a bit of a nervous wreck. Riding along the main road was well scary, mainly because I didn't have a helmet (probably why I was getting such dirty looks, not wearing a helmet must be akin to not having your headlights turned on) but once I got onto the cycle path, remembered that I was super-sassy and am not scared of 45-year old overweight men, I got quite into the swing of things. I nearly did run over two squirrels though, and I saw a rat. OH and Mr Billsberry, who was a wiiiicked art teacher at my school. 

The other thing I was a bit worried about was getting thighs like Chris Hoy's. Incidentally, his thigh circumference is the same as my waist so that would look absolutely ridiculous and also COME ON EMMA you've been for two bike rides just chill out. 

I have quite enjoyed my time off (I may have spent £110 on whiskey at the weekend, whatever) however I'm excited to get back running ASAP. Also, hunching over a bike just cannottttt be good for my posture, and also walking like you've soiled yourself just ain't a good look. 

Really ladylike and classy tweet...