Aberfeldy Middle Distance Triathlon

For me the nerves of a big race usually don’t kick in till the night before, or if I am feeling lucky, the morning of the race. However in a Middle Distance Triathlon, which is considerably bigger than any sprint triathlon I have done before the nerves kept me up at night about a week prior race day. I was a bipolar mess, on the one hand I loved the challenge of doing a half iron man, and Diana’s training program filled me with confidence. Also I enjoyed having the excuse of ‘I’m doing a Half Ironman next week’ as an opportunity to eat roughly 90% of my waking hours. On the other hand, I also felt under prepared having only done two open water swims (in which we splashed about more than anything) and a handful of sprint triathlons. The jump from sprint to middle distance was a daunting one and made me nervous, which made me eat more, if I didn’t do this race I risked turning into an elephant.

Race day snuck up like a stealthy lion waiting to tear me to shreds, in fact, while I was forcing my breakfast down me at 6am I wished I was about to be mauled by a big cat as opposed to inflict arguably the same amount of pain on myself. I had come this far, had done some serious training and made my mum come up from the south to support me. There was no turning back.

After a little glitch of not knowing where the race start was (thanks Finlay for the directions!), we made it to the loch side ready to rack up transition. This was my mum’s first triathlon experience, and explaining to her that there are no showers to rinse yourself off when you come out the water, nor is there time to have a hot drink in transition (‘but the water looks so cold’ she protested), helped distract me from what I was about to undertake.

Transition set up, wet suit on, race briefing done, I joined the crowd in tip-toeing into the water. My mum was right, it was cold, and if I had it my way I would have a cup of tea in transition, but adrenaline was building as I swum to the start line. As I was bobbing there people around me were joking about doing three laps. Three laps? I was sure the brief said two!? My fellow athlete’s jovial banter was not helping with my nerves. I double, triple, quadruple checked with people around me that it was only two laps, a worthy enough challenge. As I was telling someone that my training consisted mainly of eating (nervous chat) the start horn suddenly sounded. Like a race horse out a stall...or like a sheep sticking with a herd, I was off. I was warned about open water swims and how brutal they could be; people weren’t lying, I was kicked and knocked and pushed every which way. What people failed to mention is that adrenaline numbs you to everything, the water turned tropical and a kick in the face felt like someone stroking your cheek...with their foot!?

First lap of the swim done, I was feeling good, feeling like I can finish it and not have to surrender to lying on my back with arm in air to wait for the lifeguard to trawl me away like a wounded whale. My pride could remain intact as far as the cycle. Apart from the slightly choppy water, the swim was generally quite enjoyable, after the first 200m people spread out and I found a consistent pace. I came out the water and ran up to transition, passing my mum who looked frightfully concerned and confused (‘is it not uncomfortable swimming with that thing on?’). Transition with a wetsuit is a tricky business; I managed to get the arms of ok, but struggled with the legs, flailing on the floor like a fish out of water. Finally it slid of, shoes slid on, and I was away on the bike.

Craig and Finlay had warned me about the hills in Aberfeldy, and the last race I did was the Aberfeldy sprint, which was the windiest race of all time. Those two things combined would make for a pretty miserable ride. Yes, the first hill was a killer, however I was still high from finishing the swim and was determined that nothing spoil my mood. I just chipped away at the climb and had Lyndsey’s hill song going round in my head...’Everyday I’m shuffling’ (Party Rock Anthem by LMFAO)...a fine song for a pedal beat. After the seemingly never ending hill finally reached a summit the sun came out and the wind eased. I felt like I was flying, I had gone from lion attack victim to sheep to fish to bird, and if the weather stayed nice, this whole 90km cycle thing wouldn’t be so bad after all. Right!?

It did stay nice, and the cycle was great. I learnt from the marathon that there is no such thing as having too many liquids and energy gels, so I made sure I drank and ate something at any opportunity which meant my energy levels stayed in hyper mode and the Party Rock Anthem on high speed loop going round my head. All the liquids also meant I faced the biggest challenge of the race...peeing while on a bike, but I will save that story for another time.

As I came into transition my heart leapt knowing that no matter what I will probably, definitely, finish the race, the tortoise did beat the hare after all. I entered transition with a cowboy hobble and struggled to put on my trainers. Setting of on the run with a strange outer body experience as I looked down at two limbs moving my torso forward, I kept on trying to lengthen my stride as I felt I was still shuffling, and after three hours of LMFAO’s number one hit going through my head I was ready to put it at number two. I found my pace and was filled with more energy as I felt the heat of the sun reflecting of the road. After spending the summer in Edinburgh where the average temperature was around freezing and the rain fall suggesting the coming of Noah’s Great Flood, nothing could ruin the feeling of sunshine on my skin, nothing except getting the most annoying song stuck in my head. My breath rhythm seemed to only fit with the Teletubbies theme tune. And as I ran through beautiful country side with the sun beaming down all I could sing was ‘Tinkywinky, Dippsy, Lala, Po...’. Not exactly the soundtrack associated with a half iron man. I started to ‘hit the wall’ at the 15km mark, but my theme tune kept me going. A slight hill climb (‘teletubbies’), cross the bridge (‘teletubbies’), wave at the supports (‘say’), last hill (‘he..’) and finally over the finish line (‘..lo’) HELLO!!

4hrs, 6mins later and I made it, strait back into my mum’s embrace. And despite the heat she was determined to get a cup of tea in me, the cure to all ailments.

What a day, the sense of achievement is enough to drive me to a full iron man, but the aching muscles are saying otherwise. I finished the race feeling like...a Teletubby, is there a red, slightly burnt, sweaty one? I would encourage anyone to do the Aberfeldy Half, it’s a beautiful race, well organised and friendly. The one major piece of advice I give you though, make sure you have a good mental playlist lined up

A big thank you goes to Diana for the coaching, all Eutri members who trained with me and my mamushka for feeding me tea and sandwiches. Couldn’t have done it without all you.

By Alistair Hammer