So near. Yet so far away.

When setting yourself challenges, it is always good to have attempted them and if not quite beat them, at least made a good effort at attaining them. But 3 minutes 17 seconds were to ruin my first triathlon of the season.

Last Sunday evening when results we're published for the fingal sprint, my confirmed time was 1hr 17 minutes exactly. I was absolutely  delighted. My target window was 1:20-1:25, so beating that by three minutes had me thrilled.

Sunday was a very hot day, and as I had to register on the morning I had a lot, probably too much, time to hang around.  About a dozen from Piranha's new to tri group were doing it, so as people arrived there was a good buzz building, fuelled by nervous energy. Everyone was just egging to get started.

The 750 metre swim was pool based and could only be described as chaotic at best. Despite a minor miscount on my lengths I got through it well enough in about 14 minutes. Not brilliant but not way off either.

A hectic T1 and out onto an out-and-back bike route. The new bike was pushed as hard as possible. Into the wind on the way out I looked forward to upping the ante on the way back. No such luck. The wind turned with us and offered little or no respite.  So the legs were that bit heavier heading into T2.

The run took place at the height of the midday heat and with a steady slight uphill straight out of transition, I thumped rather than glided way through at least the first kilometre. Things didn't get too much easier until the turnaround. Finally a bit of a downhill to the finish line, which couldn't come quickly enough.

The wait for results is always annoying. So the relief and delight on seeing them was great. However this delight was swiftly ended on Thursday morning on receipt of an email from the race organisers.

The swim times were out by 3 minutes and 17 seconds. So my revised time was 1:20:17. When facing this against my target I should still be very pleased. And in one sense I am. If I received this time immediately after the race I would have been thrilled.  But to have my better time taken away is gutting. I must simply use it as resolve to better my times later in the year.

Quite when the next race will be is uncertain. An arrival in the household, a new baby daughter, Eve, will determine the answer to that. So the only race at the moment I have to worry about is the human race (it's bad I know, but give the new dad a break).

So while 3 minutes 17 seconds brought me disappointment yesterday, a bundle of 6lbs 10ozs has brought me nothing but total joy and pride.

First tri of the year. This should be...interesting.

5kms in 24 minutes and 17 seconds.  Not a bad return on only my third run of the year. The third run of the week.

Having given myself a target of the 24 minutes I was quietly pleased with the results. Equally, the body finished in one piece as well. No knees, calves or ankles were left strewn around Malahide Castle.

So that race was the warm up for the first triathlon of the year - the Fingal sprint triathlon. Tomorrow.  Despite having competed in a number of races last year, I have yet to compete in a sprint triathlon.  While the distance is half of what I have done before there is an increased onus on fitness and an increased heart rate due to the short nature of the event.

Training has gone well in the last 4-6 weeks. I feel relatively in good shape so hopefully

 I feel that I can compete well. Finish in a good time. And most importantly, not make a fool of myself.

Of course that is easier said than done.  I’ve never done a pool based swim, and I have the new time trial bike out for its racing debut.  That isn’t said as a point to boast, more as a point of fact.  I have been out on the bike a number of times, and believe that I have a good feel for it, but as is often said, match fitness is a different level altogether.

So having set myself a target for the run last weekend, I have been trying to work out what is a realistic time to aim for this race.  Now the difference between a challenging time and a realistic time could be as low as two minutes or as high as eight.

So the nerd has set in.  I checked the times from last year’s race. Checked the times of the other newbies from a race two weeks ago.  The calculator, no actually the excel sheet, nearly burned up with the permutations I put through. 

 

And still, I don’t know how near I am to the ‘right’ figure.  ‘Man up,’ I rightfully hear you say. Lay it down. Money where your mouth is. Cliché. Cliché. Cliché.

So this week Matthew, I am going for one hour twenty minutes as the challenging time.  But anything over one hour twenty five minutes and there will be disappointments.

So there it is.  Quite how it all pans out is anyone’s guess.  Sure what could go wrong?

Fail to prepare. Prepare to fail.

ROY Keane’s infamous quote above from Saipan still resonates in Ireland as we approach the 10 year anniversary of the most infamous sporting exit in the history of this country.

It is a phrase that has been going through my head quite a bit for the past few weeks as my racing season begins in haste tomorrow.  At 11.30am I will attempt to run 5km in under 24 minutes at the John Davis Memorial race in Malahide Castle.

All quite achievable I hear you say.  And indeed in theory you would be correct.  The only problem is that my first run of the year was only last Sunday.  And only a trot for 2.5kms at that.  It was followed up by a 5km jog on Tuesday.

So quite obviously, this has not the most ideal preparations for either race.  But last Sunday’s run broke a spell.  For the past six weeks, I have been meaning to go for that first run.  Having spent a lot of last year with niggly ankle and hip injuries, I was apprehensive about starting the run.

I went to physio to try to loosen out my leg and did the exercises to try to strengthen my leg. So I was trying to prepare as best as possible. And yet, I couldn’t force myself out to run.  When I did finally get a few runs under my belt, the ankle ached and my hip hurt.  So this weekend will be approached with some trepidation and no small dollop of hope that the legs hold up.

I have been aiming to prepare well.  Preparation for my triathlon has not been a total failure, however the preparation for this weekend’s race would likely leave a lot to be desired. 

I can’t imagine I’d get Roy Keane’s seal of approval, but then again, that will depend on how this weekend’s race.  Only time will tell.

How elusive is the search for progress?

Progress is relative. Progress is subjective. But the infrequent times I have managed to maintain some forms of training, progress is hard to find.

The ongoing chase for that elusive ' race fitness' continues. And one that is made all the more prescient as suddenly the full triathlon season is upon us.

Due to this errant approach to training lethargy sets in more easily. More easy to turn over than answer the early morning alarm. More easy to hit the couch than the track. And yet there is the yearning to progress. More than three months now in the pool, and several in the original beginners have, rightfully, been promoted to the intermediate lane. I, though, stalled. I have led the beginners lane on a number of days, but progress seemed to elude me. 

I pressed on session after session, drill after drill. And while my fitness and stamina appeared, at least on a superficial level, to have improved, I really didn't know if I was making progress.

Progress is more than simply an indication of improvement, it is a motivation. A reward for the hard work put in, and a way to move forward. But training wasn't giving me that. Mild frustrations set in. As much at myself for missing training through laziness, fatigue and illness. But frustrations nonetheless.

And as the season arrives, the lack of progress gets amplified. So having asked our coach, Lee, for a few tips on how to improve I had my next step towards progress. I hoped.  But quite how I progressed surprised me. Next training was on Bank holiday Tuesday. I arrived at the pool more out of habit than eagerness. I sought to put Lee's suggestions into play. 

Eight lengths later I was in the intermediate lane. Progress. Made. Motivation restored.

Progress is relative. I am now in the intermediate swimming lane. Progress is subjective.  I believe I can keep improving.

Roll on the season and the first triathlon in two weeks time.

Looking like a triathlete does not a triathlete make!

Once again my lethargy in updating my blog has been due to more rollercoasters and circles of late nights, early mornings, lack of rest, a worn down body, oh and the weather! But yesterday evening finally brought the chance to get back into it again.

The weather eventually allowed the new toy get unwrapped properly.  

My body is now in trouble. It's sore. Some call this recovery. I'm not fully convinced. I'm clearly unfit and in need of more training. But I managed 20kms on my new bike. My first proper cycle on my new time trial bike. Exhilarating. Nervous. Fast. Shaky. And really quite breathless.

I picked up the Planet X time trial bike a little over two weeks ago and ever since it has sat in the apartment staring tantalisingly back up at me. The weather left a lot to be desired. And I certainly wasn't going to bring out the toy in the pissing rain. That would be no fun at all.

A five minute race down the road and back up about ten days ago was merely a warm up. It merely confirmed the bike worked.

So last night as I alighted the train the weather presented the perfect opportunity to properly bring the bike out on a test run.  I decided to tackle Howth Head - go on a route I know and can possibly compare to my newly appointed 'training bike'.  It took a while to get used to changing the gears at the end of the tri bars. The ease with which the bike advanced was tremendous, and the power that could easily be generated without too much effort, surprising.

Now going up Howth Head is never easy at the best of times, but I managed to get up the hill quite well, and the up hill sections were more manageable than expected.  And the downhill was, well lets just say I didn't want to push the bike (or myself) to that limit just yet.  Bike control is one thing on this bike that I won't be taking for granted.

I just have to get out on it more often and hope that I don't make a fool of myself on it during my first triathlon of the season in four weeks time.

This bike is just so light. It is fast. It is agile. I think it will simply remove lethargy from my vocab. At least that's the hope.



PS A real triathlete was used in the photo. I don't know how to go that fast yet! And no I don't have one of those helmets either.

Back with a vengeance. Definitely maybe.

So two rested and two enforced weeks from training complete and back with a vengeance (part two) again tomorrow.

While the first two weeks were largely tolerated, the last two were not so easy to handle. To make matters worse Easter really is not the best time to have two non-training weeks.  As the BORG said in Star Trek, 'resistance is futile'. Okay, so my efforts to avoid chocolate and other temptations were questionable at best, but nonetheless it was still not easy.

Over Easter, the weather also didn't help as the rain and wind pelted the northwest, not allowing for much opportunity to get out on the bike.  Added to that, the four Heineken Cup quarter finals and the Masters golf made it equally hard to drag myself from the lay-z-boy.

When I did finally get out, the wind was blowing a gale, the rain was threatening, and my belly was full of a heavy meal, chocolate and wine.  There are many views taken on how best to fuel for training; this was none of them.

My aim was a 50km cycle, but after no more than 8kms I knew that simply wasn't going to happen. Lacking all rhythm and a total inability to tackle the hills with any gusto (and a complete lack of breath) told its own story of a sorry loss of fitness. Well over 80 minutes later and a sorry 30kms later my Easter Sunday torture was complete.

Slowly things hvae been turning around since the weekend, and I have strived to tone back the rubbish with a bit more focus to getting back into training.  Tomorrow's swim time trial arrives just a bit early for me to test my endurance and possible improvements. Maybe next week. But at least I'll be back in the pool.

Patience will have to be the key this time round. The vengeance may just have to be toned back a bit this time.

Feeling the blues

I’m staring at my screen and I’m feeling blue.  Having had a two week sabbatical from training, I threw myself back into the mix over the weekend.  Swimming on Saturday and cycling on Sunday – more about that anon – but today, a doctor’s appointment has led to an enforced two-week swim and run abstention.  I’m not a happy bunny!

Having had the two weeks off, I intended approaching training gingerly and not go too hard from the off. Yea right!  In the pool it was arm drill after arm drill after arm drill.  The energy was sapped out of me at an alarming rate! Or maybe I was just doing them incorrectly! Either way, half way through our session I had to slow things down – for a few minutes at least to get some of my breath back.  But the post-training buzz had me in a good mood and delighted to be back in the pool. 

The Saturday couch recovery session, of course, never happened.

For Sunday morning’s club cycle one of the guys (Gav Duffy) set a daunting challenge to ascend and descend Howth Head (from the cemetery) ten times.  Yes, you didn’t mis-read that. 10 times. Why you ask? Well apparently April 1^st is known as the Sufferlandrian Day of Suffering. Lucky us!

The challenge was open to those at all levels, so as part of the beginners group, the challenge was set slightly lower with the aim to reach at least three ascents, and if possible four.

The climb in total was a mere 4.8kms.  A climb I have done on a good number of occasions, but never at this level. Now while that distance does not seem like much, it is a deceptive climb that offers small bouts of respite before challenging you again and again with another incline.  And as the sun’s heat increased during the ride out to Sutton, the intensity of the challenge increased.

The group started together. Beginners, intermediate and advanced all as one. That didn’t last long!  The group was quickly strung out. Each to their own; each to face the hill each time in almost total isolation.  Pick a target in front of you and keep pedalling. And don’t get lapped. Too often.

“That wasn’t too bad,” I thought after reaching the summit for the first time, “ten doesn’t seem so unattainable.”  Ah, the thoughts of the innocent. The beginners group agreed to re-group after three laps.  Everyone was still in good shape.  “Let’s go for two more,” it was suggested. That seemed attainable. Just.

The fourth time up quickly became tougher than the previous three put together.  And number five just plain hurt.  All the while being lapped for at least the second time by the advanced crew. There is a lot to learn yet.

Unless I’d been offered a large sum of money I would have been able to face the climb for even another 50 metres. Howth had beaten me. This time.

Needless to say Sunday’s recovery was much more couch based, but with an increased sense of achievement. Roll on Tuesday morning swimming.

That is until this morning.  A meeting with a dermatologist, the removal of a mole (on the bottom of my foot), three stitches later and I was put on, as they stay in US sports, the disabled list. Despite my best efforts to assure the nurse that I’d look after myself, she was having none of it. 

No swimming or running until the stitches are removed. No training for two weeks. Now that plan sucks! Just back into training and I now have to forego another eight training sessions. 

While that might be a welcome break during the season, now is not that time for me. Sure is it any wonder I’m feeling blue!