Looking back on this, even though I didn’t finish and get a medal, it was still one of my best tri experiences to date.
Being away on holiday is always fun, the atmosphere of the athlete’s village was incredible (I have genuinely never seen so much lycra, why were people wearing tri-suits on the day of registration? I was in denim shorts and felt out of place, but we weren’t racing til the day after, maybe I don’t love lycra quite as much as I should), and the whole set up was very impressive. I would have liked a little more information about where I should be and when, and what I was supposed to do with my bike, but I asked twitter and all was good.
The swim was gorgeous. Flat sea, no real current, and crystal clear waters. Almost too clear. I have a real issue with remembering the swim is a race and not a fish-seeing tour. I did see a ray though, which was very exciting.
Next year, yes, I’m doing it next year, I will use tinted goggles. The water shining off the sea was blinding. Luckily I can breathe either side, but having one side completely cut off to me for fear of losing my eyesight wasn’t fun.
I was happy with my time for the swim, it wasn’t as straight as I would have liked, but I wanted to do it in 45 minutes, and I managed 46:53.
This is where my IM dream went wrong.
The first part of the bike was really fun. Closed roads, blazing sun, beautiful views, and then the hill started.
There was no let up at all. Just up and up and up, constantly. I got off and walked, but this was causing its own problems. Cycling shoes are not made for walking, and they were rubbing my heels, causing blisters and bleeding. So I hopped back on the bike to see if I could pedal my way to the top.
I could not. There was nothing left in my legs. I was done.
So I was picked up in the bus, along with several people who had fallen off their bikes on the way back down. I was, however, very happy to notice I was nowhere near the top of the mountain. If the top had been just around the corner when I’d stopped I would have been gutted. But it wasn’t, it was still about 5km away.
Once I had thanked the bus driver in my broken Spanish, I managed to find my boyfriend in a bar near the finish, and after a little cry and a hug, we sat down with a pint and I began to feel better.
This isn’t over
Ok, so I didn’t make it up the mountain, but I really think I can do this. It’s not impossible, I just need more training.
So, come Wednesday 8th July, when entries open for next year’s race, I’ll be there, credit card in hand, signing up to defeat the mountain!