Time for the Fat Lady to sing

“Two years,” Tadhg said. 

Two years. Those simple two words deflated my triathlon balloon for quite a while at the start of this season. 

The question posed by another of the newbies in Piranha triathlon club was, “how long does it take to get good at triathlons?”

Bloody hell was it disheartening. And chatting about it with other newbies afterwards they weren't overly enamoured either.

In 2011 I trained largely on my own and raced wit one of my mates. Badly. We had our usual head to heads over a few races (it ended 2-2) but no times were great and the main aim was survival. Each triathlon was an endurance race. Our main aim was the Ironman 70.3 in Galway last September, when survival really was the main aim.

So heading into 2012, with some races under my belt - I couldn’t quite say a year’s training, and I was carrying a few too many Christmas pound – I was hopeful to be able to make some serious inroads into the world of triathlons. And a few weeks training Tadhg’s kernel was put to the back of my mind.

The aim again this year was the Ironman 70.3 race, and this weekend I will race my fifth and last race of the season. Prior to this have been Galway, one sprint and two Olympic races.

Before each race I have set myself targets. Time targets. Something just that little bit out of reach but if everything went well, attainable. And to date I have managed to just get inside my target time bracket albeit at the wrong end. For each of the races, I have improved on my times.

Last year in my three Olympic races (it the two I finished) I didn't break three hours. This year I have been under 2:45 both times. My second race better than my first. And while my realistic target for the year was to try to get below 2:30, at least by knocking 24 minutes off my 2011 time I have to be happy.

My Ironman time this year didn't quite render the same difference on he clock. As you may have seen from my last post it was a mere 27 seconds. But with an improved swim (double last year's distance) and excellent bike times, I left Galway very heartened with my performance and it showed the work put in during the year really paid off.

Having only done one sprint, it was hard to properly give myself a target, but match one I did. But with the one under my belt (last May), I want to knock four or five minutes off that time tomorrow. Target time set.

So one last race, one hour 20 minutes before the fat lady sings, and the season can officially be called closed. So what have I learnt about this year? Stroke. Drafting. T1. Cadence. Power. T2. Nutrition. Reverse splits. Pacing. Endurance.

What can I improve on? Yes you guessed, all of it. And as for Tadhg’s two years? I’m going to need every single last day of it to become a better (hopefully good) triathlete. Target set for 2013.

Michael Phelps still isn’t losing any sleep.

I really didn’t know how I was going to deal with the swim time-trial. It was nothing I had done before. So whatever about timing myself over 25 or 50 metres, this 200 or 400 metre test was at a different level all together.

On Friday evening I geared myself up for the 400 metre. I wanted to test myself. Set a benchmark against which I could compare later times. But I was still nervous.

Overnight I had tried to work out a target for myself. What would be a realistic target? What could be achieved if pushed? I felt, if I succeeded roughly how I was doing in training that something around the 8 minute mark I would be doing well. No pressure!

Unsurprisingly I was awake before the alarm on Saturday morning.

Us beginners were split into two lanes, as the coaches assessed our abilities. When asked if I wanted to do the 400 metre trial, I knew I didn’t have a choice. But was happy with the choice.

Our lane had ten people in it and the time-trial was split in two. I was in the second group, and so had to endure watching the first group, while trying to stay warm. Two of the lads were well below seven minutes, and one of the girls who I have consistently been slower than in training clocked 7mins 48 secs. This 8 minute marker was almost certainly beyond my capabilities.

While it may sound a bit obvious, but 8 lengths of a 50 metre pool is a long way. For me at least, it is. Having seen the first group charge out, the best way to survive – and that was how I saw it – was to pace myself.

“And go,” shouted Elena. No turning back now. So I pushed off the wall and the first 100 metres passed off without too many problems, but also really without too much speed. The second 100 metres was tough but was survived. The third hundred, I picked the speed up, and ended with still a bit of juice still in the tank.

So I took to the last 100 with extra vigour. “You can recover when the swim is over,” I said to myself. So for the first 50 I started quickly, but eased down at the turn. Then all technique, style common swimming sense went out the window. Just trash through the water and get to the wall as fast as possible. I can only assume it wasn’t pretty for anyone watching, and needless to say nobody had Norris McWhirter on hold in case my time was worth talking about.

I wheezed and puffed, trying to catch my breath, with no idea of what sort of time I did. Elena looked at her watch, trying to work out my final time. When she first said it I only heard, “seven minutes…” I didn’t care what was said after it. I had somehow managed to beat my target time.

Seven minutes, forty eight seconds. Job done.

So in five weeks time that time has to be reduced by ten seconds. Game on. Now 400 metres is a challenge I will revel rather than fear.