Post 190 - Kona training part 2 - heat and dodging bullets

I have a 3-week training block after the Lausanne short-course world championships and before the Ironman world championships. I need to focus on endurance training, and on heat training. I got through the first week of this block last week. This was week two. I usually train in blocks of two weeks, with the third week being easier for recovery purposes. I used to be able to do 3-week training blocks, with the fourth week being easier. 3-week blocks are now too risky/tough. So how to play it over these three weeks? Have an easier middle week, to set up a full and tough third week? Or have a tough second week and hope to get through a third week?

I told myself I would take it easier in this second week, and then have a big third and final week. It was easy to take it easy on Monday, as Monday is my rest day. It has also become my massage day, which helps.

Tuesday evening was a fairly nice evening, and my friend Natalie was in Edinburgh with work, so we took to the hybrid bikes for a spin out to the Forth bridges. It’s nice out there, but the hybrid bike is heavy and it was a tough enough push. When the sun went down it got chilly and dark and we ended up pushing quite hard to keep generating heat and to get back before it was pitch dark. So what was supposed to be an easy couple of hours turned into a slightly more difficult almost-3 hours. But it was good. You don't really remember the endless indoor turbo trainer sessions individually. You do remember scenes like below:

On Wednesday I got on the turbo and did an hour of tempo riding, over 260 watts at an average of 151bpm. Then dinner. I eat a pretty good clean diet. Plenty of raw ginger, garlic, tumeric, peppers, chillis. All good stuff. All naturally anti-inflammatory. It works for me. Not many others can stomach it. Natalie did her best to eat it, probably out of politeness and hunger more than anything else... A bit of research on heat adaption training yielded the following:

"This may be a little long but what I am about to say just might be of interest in relation to thermoregulation. Firstly, I am a registered nurse, secondly, I train horses for extra cash, thirdly, I train humans, mainly half marathoners.

I am in no doubt about the literature that makes the African men and women such great runners. However, I would like to say this, I have trained many from Kenya, Ethiopia and Eritrea.

Thermoregulation, and dehydration are explicably linked. Observations are a nurses bread and butter, temperature, pulse, respiration and more. I have done my own little study from over more than 20 years of experience.

Everybody, appears to be worried about the top end of the range of thermoregulation at about the 40 degree mark as you say in the post. However, what would you say about the lowering of core body temperature. Let’s say you could start a race knowing that you were as fit for purpose as any one in the race, but your core average body temperature was up to 4 degrees less then others in the race.

PERHAPS, it may take longer for you to reach that temperature mark that inhibits performance.

Capsaicin lowers core body temperature. Saunas tend to have the same effect through different mechanisms. In my humble opinion, the sauna is the reason that athletes from Finland have won more olympic gold medals during summer and winter games PER HEAD of population due to thermoregulation training. Individuals in hot countries tend to eat, hotter spicier food to lower core body temperature ie the African runners. No I am not going to give the references here, just Google thermoregulation and capsaicin. 

My interest was first sparked by this when an Australian athlete was brought to hospital unconscious from a car accident, many, many years ago, with a pulse of 13 beats per minute. Imagine my surprise when he woke up and smiling stated upon my questioning that his pulse was normally 13 beats per minute. His racing days were well over, his average temperature, throughout 2 weeks in hospital was a little over 32 degrees, one of the men I train has won many small half marathons around Europe, average resting temperature, 34 degrees, Ethiopian, the number two in the camp close to 33 degrees, but out of shape due to his escape from Eritrea. 

I also agree that the capsaicin in the blood assists in pain management! When was the last time many Caucasians had a dish that consisted of extra strong chilli powder, turmeric, paprika, pepper, curry, and ginger, yes all together. Check out the research!"

This caucasian (me) eats dishes consisting of chillis, tumeric, peppers and ginger every day. It seems to work.I am well used to it, but first-timers find my meals a bit weird...

On Thursday I did 26 hill repeats. 26 is the number of miles in a marathon and I need to get used to counting to 26… It was a nice evening and the sun was setting, lighting up the castle and Arthur’s seat, before turning the clouds pink over Arthur’s seat. Watching the changing light helped me to get through the 26 repeats. A tough session mentally, but the Ironman marathon is also a tough session mentally… I was happy with how it went, my legs felt good and it was one of those great end-of-summer evenings where it was brilliant to be out.

I got back to the flat, climbed the stairs as usual, bent over to take my running shoes off as usual, and was then almost screaming in agony. Horrific pain in the tendons/ligaments on the inside of my right knee. From nowhere. I’ve no idea what triggered it. It was very debilitating pain, and I couldn’t bend my knee, and could barely walk. How could it have happened? Was 26 hills too many? Did I bend over awkwardly? Climb the stairs awkwardly? Twist awkwardly? I had no idea.

I took a couple of ibuprofens and got out the emergency bag of frozen peas to ice it. I’ve been lucky this year with injuries. But please, not now, 2 weeks before Kona… I had no idea what had happened, or what would happen. It really was panic stations. I went to bed and woke up wondering what on earth I would wake up to. Broken dreams? Again?

I woke up and it tentatively felt OK. It was a swim day and I did 3500 yards doing various drills with my “toys” – hand paddles, leg floats, hand floats, rubber bands etc. Then I sat in the sauna for 40 minutes. It was so tough in the sauna. So, so tough. My heart rate was higher in the sauna than it was in the pool. I am well used to tough training. I am less used to tough saunas, but hopefully the efforts I am making at heat adaption will be worth it when I am competing in the heat of Hawaii. I flexed my leg repeatedly. The knee felt OK. The mind was racing. What do I do? A week off? Two weeks off? Try to cycle? Try a run?

I got home and tried some single leg turbo drills. Again it felt OK. I completed 20 minutes. The forecast was good for Saturday. Sunny, light winds, no clouds. If I knew my knee was 100%, I’d go out and ride for 4 hours at a fairly tough pace. So that’s what I planned. If my knee was sore I would turn and come straight home. I’m not going to risk anything at this stage.

So I got the road bike ready. It hadn’t been used since Lausanne. I put the frame pouches and bags and bottle cages and wheels on. I checked and tightened everything. I got the drinks and gels and energy bars and energy chews ready. I wore short sleeves and shorts and used the suncream I will use in Hawaii. The suncream was a very fine spray and it stank. I am sure it didn’t do my lungs any good – I will spray it outside in future.
The power meter needed updating and needed a new battery which took a bit of time to sort out, and I was later getting away than I hoped. I cruised out of town, nice and easy, for a 15-minute warm up. The knee felt OK. I carried on with it. It continued to feel OK. It seemed I would get away with the bike today, but how would a run be tomorrow…?

So much for the “light winds” forecast, it was very breezy indeed. Good practice for the trade winds in Hawaii… My average power crept up from 200 to 210 to 220 watts over the first two hours. I wondered if this was too much, and if I’d fade in the second half. I was enjoying it. Feeling decent. I’d keep pushing. Out of the blue, my gears started to grind and jump. There wasn’t much I could do, but they weren’t changing well. It was annoying. I was minimising my gear changing which meant I was pushing some big gears up the hills, which was good for leg strength, and for testing my knee, which continued to feel fine. My power went up to almost 230 watts average, with an hour to go.

Probably the last day of summer... until I get to Hawaii

I had to try to maintain this power average, to maximise the benefit of the session. If I could maintain, it would be a good session. I was running out of liquid. My legs were flooding with lactic. It was getting tough. I forced it hard. Push through the lactic and the pain. I maintained the average (227 watts in the end), and did 20 minutes longer than I thought I would. 4 hours and 20 minutes of hard enough riding, at 228 watts (3.65 watts/kg), at an average of 144bpm (starting out at about 120 and rising to 170 by the end…). 1300m climbed, 82.4 miles covered. I’d take it. I had planned it to finish just outside Edinburgh and then cruise the downhill all the way home to cool down.

I stopped at a pub on the outskirts to fill my empty bottles – I was dying for a drink. I lifted my bike as if to bring it inside the pub, then thought I’d just leave it at the door. As I was setting it down, there was the crashing sound of metal on pavement, as if I had a flat tyre. But I didn’t have a flat tyre. What was making the noise?! I lifted the bike again and the rear wheel pretty much fell out. The skewer was loose. I had tightened it that morning, and now it was really loose. I was shocked. I had been riding with a loose rear wheel… that’s probably why the gears had been clattering. This was very, very bad. In the worst case, the wheel could have become detached when descending or cornering, and bad things could have happened. I was very lucky indeed.

I tightened the damn thing up again, got my water, drank an entire litre (I needed it) and cruised home. I will need to get the wheel and skewer looked at. Then I sat in a hot bath for 30 minutes. Somehow I managed to force myself to do my core work, squats, and stretching. This was a day that felt worse after getting off the bike than it did on it (and that’s saying something, because the final hour on the bike was a tough push). On the plus side, my knee seemed OK.

The suncream is a magnet for flies

Again I wonder should I shave my legs to go faster in the water and on the bike...

Sunday was to turn wet at midday so I got up early and got out for my long run. Something around 2 hours at just under 8 minute miling pace. Nothing too difficult, as this had been intended to be an easier week. I layered up again to make it hot: a thermal base layer, two coats, a ski hat, gloves and thermal leggings. I carried two gels and a bottle of water, all of which were much needed. I did 2 hours and 20 minutes, up 4 long hills, covered 18 miles at 7:47 per mile. If I can do that pace at Kona I will be happy. It started to rain just as I was finishing, but I was so soaked in sweat that rain couldn’t have made me any wetter.

I was so dehydrated afterwards. I had lost nearly 4kg. I had a sore head. I drank some recovery drink, had a few eggs, some toast, some vegetables. Some more drink. My knee was OK. I just don’t understand how it can go from being fine, from running up 26 hills, to being so sore that it brings me almost to tears, to being seemingly OK again in such a short space of time. I will need to be careful with it.

Some Kona inspiration photos. Top is the transition area on the pier. Bottom is the swim start. 

The turnaround point is the big boat to the top left of the photo.

Then I had to face the shopping centre. I’ve decided to get a new phone and a waterproof camera for Hawaii. My old phone doesn’t have the capacity for the hundreds of photos I am sure I will take out there, and I would love to have a small hand-held waterproof camera I can take underwater. The trouble is, I really, really, really hate shopping.

But it had to be done. It was hard work, especially considering I was totally goosed, dehydrated, tired, sore-legged. You think you can sort the shopping stuff in an afternoon, but you can’t. That’s so frustrating. It takes a couple of days to change the phone number over to the new phone. It takes ages to transfer all the old photos over. The camera needs formatted. It needs a separate hand grip and a wrist band. And a memory card. I wish you could just buy stuff that works first time. Oh well.

I think all the Kona purchasing is starting to frustrate me. My list is huge. It’s certainly not a cheap endeavour. Most of the list is ticked off. I’m getting there with it all. It is coming together. I’m trying to justify buying a swimskin. Wetsuits aren’t allowed in Kona as the water is too warm. So people wear fabric swimskin suits instead, over their tri suits. They are supposed to make you a little bit faster and more buoyant in the water. Maybe a minute quicker over an hour. Sounds good? Well, yes, until you realise what they cost… £250-odd quid. For something I would use once in my life. I am struggling to justify it. I will keep an eye on ebay to see if anything comes up. If that fails, I will see what is available at the race expo in Kona – maybe I can borrow or rent one. If that fails I can swim in my bare skin, with just my tri shorts on.

I have had to make a list of deliveries I am expecting, based on the master list, to keep track of it all. I have also made a list of things to do while in Kona. List after list. It’s a full-time job to sort it all out. But I’m not complaining! I just need to keep things together and I just need the body to give me a few more weeks without any issues. Fingers crossed.

This week was a tougher training week than I intended, so I will see how I feel next week. I hope for a full week of training next week but I won’t risk anything. Doing bike reps at 290 watts instead of 310 watts, doing a 2 hour run instead of 2:20, doing 4:30 on the bike instead of 5:30, none of these things will do my fitness much harm but will go a long way to minimising injury risk. I’ll see how it goes.

Training done this week was as follows:

Swim 3.2km, Bike 170 miles, Run 31 miles

Post 189 - Kona/heat training part 1

This was the beginning of a planned 3-week training block for the Ironman world championships. It would have to include heat adaption training. Some might say thereby making tortuous training (possibly in particular tortuous turbo training) even worse…

I’m not sure how three full weeks with heat training will go. Usually my training is in blocks of two weeks. I’ll have to see how it goes, and maybe tone down the middle week. I seemed to recover well after the Lausanne racing, and at the end of the following week I did a swim followed by an attempted 30 minutes in the sauna. I was disappointed to only hack 20 minutes. 3 hours on the turbo on Saturday followed, with the heating on full blast. This wasn’t too bad, so for the middle hour I put the fan off to see how that would be. I sweated a huge amount, but the actual training and the outputs were reasonable. Sunday was a 90 minute run (my longest since Ironman UK), followed immediately by a 25-minute hot bath.

That was three heat adaption strategies – a long sauna (but currently not long enough) immediately after exercise, a long hot bath (but currently not long enough) immediately after exercise, and turbo training with the heat on full blast, and trying to endure it without a fan. The fourth strategy is running outdoors with a number of coats on, and a ski hat, gloves, thermal leggings and base layers etc.

For the three sessions outlined above, I was mindful that I was still recovering after Lausanne, so they weren’t particularly hard sessions. I’ll have to be careful to ensure I am taking enough salt, to replace that which is being sweated out. I’ll need to hydrate and rehydrate well, and I have bought a number of hydration products containing electrolytes to help with this. This heat training really is uncharted territory for me, so I will just have to listen to my body and be careful.

Hydration, nutrition and electrolytes

Monday was the usual rest day (with a massage), then it was into a more structured week. On Tuesday evening I did bike reps on the turbo, with no heat – the thinking is that during heat training, I won’t be able to achieve outputs as high as they would be if there was no heat. So in order to actually improve performance levels (which is the point of training), I need to do some non-heat sessions to maximise outputs and improve. Also, heat training every day will probably be too much of a stress on my body’s systems. So 10 sets of 3 minutes at up to 330 watts in a reasonable temperature were duly completed. I’d have been nowhere near 330 watts if the heat had been on. I followed this with stretching and core work.

I can remember doing FTP tests (functional threshold power) in London – the idea is that you pedal at your maximum output for 20 minutes. The 20 minutes seems like 20 hours. I do this test indoors on the turbo trainer. My top level was 330 watts (around 5.2 watts per kilo), achieved in fairly cool conditions. You’d hope to improve your level as the season progresses and as you continue to train. I repeated the test in the middle of summer when it was hot, and I had to abandon it after only about 10 minutes. I’d hope I was fitter but I couldn’t hold the numbers in the higher temperatures. So heat is tough! And Kona is hot, hot, hot!

Incidentally, this 5.2 watts per kilo I achieved puts me in the “excellent” level according to the tables below, at the top of Cat 1, and on the fringes of pro standard.

But it’s different horses for different courses. My FTP numbers would indicate I should be able to hold a higher power than I actually can for an Ironman, and this has probably ruined a few Ironmans (specifically Ironman marathons) for me in the past – riding to the number, when the number (for me) was too high. I changed that this year, rode to a slightly lower power at Ironman UK, and ended up having my best ever Ironman marathon (and qualifying for Kona). The science and the numbers are something of an art, and you need to know yourself, your strengths and limitations. You can only truly know this through experience. This is all another reason why I am better at shorter stuff: I can hold high power for a short time, but it drops off more than it should over the longer distances. Meaning I am not a long-course beast, I am a short-course beast. But I digress…

On Wednesday I went out for a tempo run, wearing a base layer, two coats, a ski hat, gloves, and thermal leggings. I did 10 miles in just over an hour, which was solid running. I sweated a bit, but felt good. I keep thinking I’m not too bad in the heat as I am very lean and light. Other athletes my height might weigh 10-15kg more, and they might find the heat tougher. I followed this with 25 minutes in a hot bath, and then weights and core work.

Thursday is usually an easier bike ride, so I did 3 hours on the turbo. It maybe wasn’t as easy as it could have been as the heat was on full blast, and I managed not to use the fan at all. I sweated a huge amount. The room slowly got hotter and more humid with my own sweat in the air, and more and more disgusting. I only realised how bad it was when I finished, went to the toilet and came back in. Horrendous. I opened the windows and left them open overnight.

On Friday I did some single leg turbo drills and then I hit the pool and churned out 4000m – my longest swim for 2 months since the Ironman. The first half was fine, and then the pace started to drop a little, partly because I told myself it didn’t need to be too high as it was simply an endurance swim. Then a guy in the lane beside me started swimming at my pace, and even slightly quicker.

We started tentatively racing, I had no doubt about that, and keeping pace with each other. Pushing each other on. The pace went much higher. But it was manageable. My shoulder started to feel a bit sore but I kept at it and we must have swum together for about 20 minutes. It was actually quite fun, and the swim turned into a much tougher (and more beneficial) session than it might have been. We fist-bumped at the end and had a chat in the sauna. A bit of chat in the sauna made the time pass a bit quicker and I endured 30 minutes. Of all the heat adaption stuff I do, the sauna is the toughest.

Saturday’s bike was 5 hours and 15 minutes on the turbo, with the heat on. 4 sets of 5 x 15 minutes, with each 15 getting progressively tougher, then dropping back after 5 sets to repeat it all again 4 times. Power output was from 130 watts (easy) up to almost 300 watts (horrendously tough after 4 hours in the heat).

The heat controller in my flat. 10:27am, about to start a 

5 hour and 15 minute turbo session, temperature 30 degrees...

Of all the injuries you could suffer on a turbo trainer, a bloodied bridge of my nose wasn’t one I ever anticipated. The towels I was using to cover the bike and protect it from sweat, and to wipe myself down, rapidly got soaked in salty sweat and I had to replace them very frequently. I ended up using some old, fairly stiff, abrasive towels. My face was soaked in salty sweat for the entire time, and the abrasive towels effectively “sandpapered” my nose raw. Blood everywhere. It looked worse than it was but I’ll have to be careful not to abrade my nose in future heat training sessions…

I did what I had to do on the turbo. Got through it. Drank 4 litres. Then went for a short run. 5km in 21 minutes at 6:52/mile, which felt fine. Then a big rehydration job, stretching and core work. Doing the actual training in the heat seems to be fine. But I had started to notice a bit of a pain across my lower back, and not a usual muscular pain. I wondered if it was my kidneys starting to protest. I’d need to be careful. I’d re-think plans for next week.

I felt fine the next day and went out for a long run. 2 hours and 10 minutes, wearing a thermal base layer, 2 coats, a ski hat, gloves, and thermal leggings. And carrying a bottle of electrolyte drink. Deirdre was with me and she was carrying emergency gels and spare water. It was so strange. In my previous run this week, I was wearing exactly the same clothing and running much harder, and I didn’t sweat anywhere near as much. This time, running at a slower pace (just over 7 minute miling), I was sweating buckets. The pace felt good though, I felt fairly strong, did 4 long hills, got the emergency gels and water before the situation became an emergency, and managed 18.2 miles in 2 hours and 10 minutes. The pace was fairly comfortable, but I started to feel really thirsty and cold as soon as I stopped. I was soaking, and as soon as you stop, you stop generating heat.

So it was a case of weighing up what should be done first on return to the flat – food, drink, recovery, stretching, core work, get warm, or shower? In the end the compromise was that I took a recovery drink into the shower, then ate a pile of food, then did my stretching and core work.

Before I showered or drank anything I weighed myself. I’d lost over 3kg on the run, which is 5% of my bodyweight. I did some research:

“Losses of perspiration greater than 2% of body weight increases the risk of nausea, diarrhoea, vomiting and gastrointestinal problems.”

“4-5% can cause irritability, exhaustion, feeling feverish.”

“Losses of 5% or more of bodyweight during physical activities may decrease the capacity for work by roughly 30%.”

“Losses of 8-10% can cause convulsions.”

“Losses of 10% or more can be fatal.”

I lost 5% in just over 2 hours in a heat-simulated run (admittedly I wasn’t drinking as much as I will be in the Ironman, but the Ironman will be 5 times longer…) So clearly I will need to be careful and to make sure I hydrate well and take on electrolytes during the race.

The actual training side of things was fine. But the cumulative effects of the heat on the body were starting to take their toll, and I was realising by now that it wouldn’t be sensible to try to continue with this intense heat training for a second week in a row. So I will tone things down a little bit next week, and be fresh for a big final week before travelling out to Hawaii.

There’s still so much to sort out before I go: I want to get a new phone so I can take unlimited photos (I’ve had my current phone for 6 years and it’s pretty much on its last legs, very slow, and its capacity is full). I’d also like to get some sort of waterproof camera so I can take underwater photos of the corals and turtles and aquatic life and waves and  beaches and stuff. I need to sort out travel, medical and hire car insurance. I need to make sure I have all the gear and gels and hydration I need. I need to sort out a bike box and get the bike serviced. I need to “decorate” my helmet. I need to buy a few other bits and pieces for my supporters travelling out to Hawaii. I need to read up on things to do and places to go in Hawaii. So much to do. And departure date is coming around quickly… I’m not complaining though!

Training done was as follows:

Swim 4km, Bike 200 miles, Run 33 miles

Post 188 - World standard distance tri, and post-event

The standard triathlon day began with an early start. 5am. It was dark. I was tired. Not just normal 5am tired, but really tired from yesterday’s exertions. But there was a world championship to race so I got up, got breakfast, got my bits and pieces together and we jumped in the taxi. There were no trains running at 5:30am on a Sunday morning… I wasn’t keen to pay what could end up being 40 or 50 francs for a taxi that might not even be able to get us anywhere near the start, due to the closed roads. But there was no choice.

The taxi went the long way round, to say the least, right around the by-pass to the north of the city and then down the west and along the waterfront until we hit the closed roads. This was as close as we would get, so we coughed up the 60 francs (obscene money) and walked to the start. Time was getting tight, and I hate rushing on race morning. There’s plenty of time in the race for the heart rate to get high, but you want to keep the pre-race heart rate under control…

In the end it worked out just about OK. I got the bike sorted, got the drinks and gels put onto the bike, got everything else done, and we walked up to the swim start. Wetsuits wouldn’t be allowed. Damn. At such an early hour, it wasn’t exactly roasting hot. I felt a bit depleted. A bit tired. A little bit not keen to get in the water, especially without a wetsuit. I’d be glad when this was over.

I went for a quick jog to warm up. Immediately I needed the toilet. I’d already been first thing after waking up, but your guts can do funny things in the day(s) after a race. Queuing for the official port-a-loos wasn’t an option as I’d miss my race start – the queues were too long. There was a smaller toilet block around the corner, without too much of a queue. The New Zealander ahead of me in the queue saw I was in a hurry and let me go first. This was a very selfless gesture…

There wasn’t much time to hang about. I joined my start pen just after 8am. With 90 seconds to go, we were called into the water. I did the same as yesterday, away off to the right. There were so many entrants in my race, they had started it in two separate waves, and the first wave athletes were already off a couple of minutes ahead. There was a bit of a breeze. It wasn’t exactly rough water, but neither was it flat calm. I’d just have to get on with it.

Within a minute or two of the start, my goggles started leaking. They have never leaked before. It was so bad that I had to stop twice to clear them out. My eyes didn’t feel great as a result. The swim just went on and on and on. Sighting was difficult. It was a rough swim. I never really warmed up. It was inhospitable. My cold water wimpishness and my fatigue from the sprint race didn’t help. There was no quick way out, I just had to keep swimming.

It was such a relief to finally be shorebound, with the big tree to aim at. If everything had been perfect I’d have hoped to swim around 22-23 minutes. I was over 27 minutes. It felt a lot longer. Oh well. The bike and run couldn’t be much worse.

I was a bit of a mess in transition, feeling absolutely beaten up. I could barely see, as my eyes had water in them for the entire swim and now wouldn’t stop watering and wouldn’t focus properly. The race certainly hadn’t got off on the right footing. But there was nothing else for it except jumping on the bike. My eyes took ages to settle down. Everything took ages to settle down after the swim. Drafting wasn’t allowed in this race and I had to be really careful not to get caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. A penalty wouldn’t have helped my mood.

Going up the first hill, I knew right away my legs were a long way off how they had felt on the same hill yesterday. A standard distance bike is 40km (twice that of a sprint distance), but it always feels much longer. It was just a grind of a bike. Gritting the teeth and grinding it out. The same amazing smooth roads, but just not the top-end performance level. Usually in a race your legs feel full of life after tapering down. Not today…

Big wide open roads to the west added on the extra distance. Motorbike marshals and referees buzzing all over the place. I needed to pay good attention to hydration and nutrition, much more so than in the sprint race.

The bike did somewhat settle down eventually and I found a rhythm of sorts, and an output that felt OK. There weren’t many overtaking me, but I figured that the fast people were long gone after the swim. There was more space on the bike compared with yesterday, and it wasn’t as fast and furious and exhilarating, nor was I as fast and furious and exhilarated. It really was just a case of grinding it out. In the end I held around 250 watts for 64 minutes (my Garmin worked the whole time). If I’d been fresh I’d have hoped that might have been nearer to 270 watts.

Such a great course

But I kept telling myself to stop dwelling on it, and that I had a silver medal in my pocket, and that today was never going to be great. In the end, 64 minutes was pretty much right up there. Another minute or two faster and it would have been right among the fastest bikes of the day. It was the swim that let me down today.

I got off the bike, ruined another set of cleats running through transition in my bike shoes, whipped on a pair of socks and runners, and started to run. I knew exactly what I was in for. 2 laps of yesterday’s hilly course. 10km. I felt OK running, but not great. I carried a couple of gels. I put them down the front of my tri-suit for when I’d need them, and they fell right down to the crotch area. Not a good look. And an even worse look to maintain pace while trying to “massage” them back up to my chest where I could retrieve them.

I hadn’t needed to pick up water at the aid stations yesterday in the sprint race, but I wanted water with the gels today. All three attempts to pick up water from the volunteers ended with the water going flying everywhere and I didn’t grab a single cup successfully. I’ll need to work on this…

The hills were tough. It was getting warm. I went through 5km in 20 minutes, which was disappointing, but that was the pace I had. I was running as hard as I could. Or has hard as I dared. I didn’t want to be slower than 40 minutes for the 10km. It was starting to hurt badly. There’s good hurt that you can rip through, that you relish. And there was this.

Getting under 40 minutes for the run became the motivating target. Again I don’t think anyone passed me in the run. I survived the hills. I was dying for a drink. I kept going. The finish area was great – the course went right past the finish chute, then doubled back, then doubled back again to the finish line. It was a fun section, with great crowds. Or at least it would have been a fun section if it wasn’t at the end of two tough races and I hadn’t been right on the limit.

A bit of "helmet hair" going on here

The second half of the run must have been better than the first half and my legs must have worked their way into it, as I ran under 38 minutes. Not bad in the circumstances. I crossed the line thinking I had raced as well as I could with what I’d had. I’d had one of the top runs of the day, and I finished 22nd overall out of 123 finishers. It hadn’t been a bad race.

I reckon doing the sprint race had cost me 3-4 minutes on the bike and in the run, and my swim hadn’t been much better than a disaster, there were easily another 2-3 minutes there. Take 7-8 minutes off my finishing time and I’d have been right in the mix. But it was what it was. I’d absolutely settle for 2nd and 22nd. I was glad to be done. The racing had been great. The world championships, super courses, tremendous support and weather, but now it was over.

And now I could finally relax a bit. I chatted a bit with a few Irish, including our team manager. The staff had been putting in long, long days. We found a great table in a cheap-ish but functional restaurant along the front, and I fairly enjoyed an hour or two of recovery, chip butties, crisps, and yes, some beer… Then we ambled down to the race expo area where I fairly enjoyed some more recovery with burgers, pizza and possibly more beer. And some music. “Oh life…” The rain didn’t look like it was starting any time soon, which was great.

They were opening transition for bike collection shortly and hordes of athletes were queuing to collect their gear. It was scorching. For many, the event experience was over. For me I was really happy to be heading back to the expo venue that evening for the awards ceremony (and more good recovery food and drink…)

Before that it was back to the apartment (via the train – I was absolutely not cycling or walking up that hill), and I set to work – dismantling and packing bikes, clearing up, washing dirty kit in the shower, and trying to get as much done as possible to make the final packing tomorrow morning as easy as possible (particularly as there might be a hangover involved tomorrow morning…)

We headed back to the waterfront and had a couple of drinks in a bar overlooking the lake as the storm and the rain finally rolled in. It was quite spectacular. The far side of the lake vanished in the mist. Oh well. We hadn’t done badly for weather. The bikes had stayed dry. We’d had good weather up to now. I hoped the rain would clear before the awards ceremony, which it duly did. Fantastic.

I’m glad, as an athlete, that I don’t need too many drinks to start feeling it, because at a tenner a pint in Switzerland it could quickly get expensive. At the awards we had vouchers for free food and drink anyway. Superb. It was really good fun, meeting a few of the other Irish, having a bit of craic, watching the ceremonial stuff, queuing for the podium, chatting to other medallists, going up on the podium, getting the medal, meeting Roisin (Ireland’s other silver medallist), taking photos, reliving it all. It was brilliant. Such a good atmosphere. Podium, burger, beer. None of these things in isolation happens very often. All three together? Probably a unique occurrence. I enjoyed it.

As the ceremony drew to a close, the rain started. We made a dash to a nearby pub. I had another burger and another drink. Chatted all things triathlon. There was an Irish guy there who had been to Kona in the 80s. A few were heading down to Nice for the half Ironman world championships the following week. A tentative agreement was made with the media officer to meet tomorrow at around 1pm at the station, for an interview, as we were on our way to the airport. All too soon it was time to get the last train home.

There was scope for a bit of a lie-in the following day, as we didn’t need to leave the apartment until around midday. When I finally got up, it was all action, getting all the packing done and getting everything tidied up and cleaned up, and eating the last of the food. My head actually felt OK, surprisingly.

Always a relief to get these closed, and back from an airline in one piece

I was sorry to leave, it had been a great place to stay, with a great view. But you don’t get something for nothing, it hadn’t been cheap and another cost of the view was the hill… I ended up not meeting the media guy at the station. I walked all around the whole station for 20 minutes in my green Triathlon Ireland top, and finally decided that we had to head to the airport. A few minutes later he texted to ask where I was… I had to apologise.

It was good that we had left when we did, because the queues at Geneva airport were unbelievable. The whole world was heading home, with their bikes. It was so slow. I went and picked up a mobile phone which a team-mate had left behind at the airport car rental place. We must have queued for well over an hour and just as we got to the front of the queue, they called anyone remaining for the Liverpool flight to come to the front. Typical. We just about had time for a great feed at the airport before boarding.

The drive back up to Edinburgh was punctuated with a stop at the famous Tebay services. The best services in the world…? Tremendous food. Plus if you buy a main meal, they will give you kids’ meals for £1. So I always have “kids in the car” when I’m at Tebay. For £10 I had a burger, steak pie and lasagne.

It was after midnight when I got back, and there was no-one available at this time to help with the bike boxes up the stairs. So reluctantly I had to leave them in the car overnight. I covered them with blankets and hoped for the best. They were still there in the morning. Then it was a case of building them all up again and getting all the washing and cleaning and tidying done.

What a great trip. What an unexpected silver medal.

Next will be a week of fairly easy training and recovering, before a 3-week block of training for Kona. I haven’t quite decided how I will spend this three week block: train straight through for 3 weeks (tough, usually I only do 2-week blocks), or train for a week, have an easier week, then a final tough week. I will have to put a lot of emphasis on heat training, which is uncharted territory for me as I’ve never had to do this before. Heat training will include sitting in a sauna for a long time, turbo training in the flat with the heat on full blast, and wearing a lot of clothes when out running. I’ll need to be careful not to get dehydrated. But it’s all for Kona. I’ll do what I have to do. Or what I think I have to do. Bring it on!

Training done was as follows:

Post 187 - World sprint triathlon championships, Lausanne (silver medal...)

Lausanne, Switzerland. The 2019 International Triathlon Union (ITU) world championships, in both the sprint and the standard distance. The bottom line is that I won a very unlikely and surprising world silver medal in the sprint triathlon. What follows, explains…

Ironman UK on 14th July took quite a while to recover from. I had to make a fairly quick decision in the aftermath of Ironman UK, with Kona qualification finally achieved, as to whether I would actually compete in Lausanne or not. If I wanted to, Triathlon Ireland had said there was a place for me in both the sprint and the standard races, on 31st August and 1st September respectively. Ironman UK was on the 14th July. Triathlon Ireland needed my decision on 15th July.

Would I, should I, could I? Should I bail out on Lausanne and focus completely on Kona? Could I go to Lausanne and do both races, or would I focus on just one? Would it affect Kona? I knew that all the long-course training I’d done for Ironman UK wasn’t ideal training for the shorter races. I knew that trying to recover from Ironman UK and train for Lausanne wouldn’t be ideal, it would be a bit more pressure, and it would take away from the long-course training.

But that said, the opportunity was there. Lausanne is “fairly” local (compared with future ITU world championship venues in Canada, Bermuda and Abu Dhabi). I know Lausanne, having passed through in the summer of 2005 when I was working in France. I’d swum in Lake Geneva before. I know that in theory I like racing in the heat. I know that I am probably better at the shorter distances. So, I decided, let’s do it. Let’s do both races, while the opportunity is there. The sprint race was first – I know I can recover very quickly from a sprint race, so hopefully doing the standard distance race the following day wouldn’t do too much damage.

But which race would I prioritise? All the long-course training would suggest I should prioritise the (longer) standard race. But if you asked me, I would probably say, based on my limited experience of a few sprint races and one standard race in 2018, that I am stronger in the sprint race…

But the sprint race was a draft-legal race. I’m not the quickest swimmer in the pack, which would mean I would miss the lead group, and it would be difficult to pull back up to 2 minutes on the lead group on the bike. I’ve never even done a draft-legal race. My only experience of drafting on a bike came with a couple of rides in Steve’s group when I was living in London. There was a reason I only did a couple of these rides: They were fast and furious and a bit intimidating, and when you’re tucked in behind a wheel at up to 30mph, basically riding blind, with no view of the road ahead, well, some would say it’s thrilling, others would say it’s terrifying… I hoped I wouldn’t suffer any crashes or injuries out in Lausanne that would jeopardise Kona…

Given that the sprint race was a draft-legal race, and the standard race wasn’t (where we would have to maintain a gap of 12m to the rider in front unless overtaking, or else risk a penalty), I would have to take two bikes – my road bike for the draft-legal race, and my time trial bike for the draft-illegal race. This added considerably to the logistics and cost. I managed to borrow one bike box and had to rent another. I can’t say the travel was much fun.

In the run-up to Lausanne, when I began to feel a bit more recovered after the Ironman, I had managed to get a couple of weeks of decent training done. It took a month after Ironman UK before I felt my running was “normal” again, with no residual pain or fatigue from the Ironman. It is fair to say that Lausanne had been overshadowed by Ironman UK and Kona qualification, but as the Lausanne departure date loomed ever closer, and as I clocked off what turned out to be a few decent training sessions, I started to get a bit more excited about it. I knew I wouldn’t be optimally trained, but I’d at least be able to go out and give a decent account of myself.

I had the bikes serviced, sorted and packed. Each of the boxes weighed almost 30kg. How would I ever get them down three flights of stairs from my top floor flat? At 6 in the morning?! I was driving from Edinburgh to Liverpool airport, meeting Deirdre, flying to Geneva, getting the train to Lausanne, getting another train up to La Conversion, near where our accommodation was, and then walking the final bit. Liverpool was handy for flight times and prices and dates, but 6am wasn’t exactly a selling point when asking friends if they might be able to help with the heavy lifting. But I had no choice, I couldn’t lift those bike boxes myself. So I had to ask a friend nicely if he would mind helping me at 6am to carry all the stuff down the stairs and load the car.

To his credit and my relief, he agreed. But even so, when I was carrying my suitcase down the stairs, something went in my back. Not good. A pulled muscle, a strain, whatever. It was excruciating. Everything went into meltdown and stiffened up. I had to take some ibuprofen and delay my departure to try and stretch it out. 5 hours sitting in a car down to Liverpool wasn’t ideal. Nor was the fact that I had developed a sore tooth and gum. I’ve never had problems with my teeth. This wasn’t a good time. I was so fed up with both my back and my gum, and with bike boxes and carrying and heaving luggage that I decided I’d have a Guinness at the airport. Well, half a Guinness. Usually this would be unthinkable. It didn’t last long...

Apart from that, everything went fairly well in transit until we got off the train near our accommodation. Then it was a steep uphill walk for 10-15 minutes, with 2 bike boxes, a suitcase and 3 rucksacks. Not the most fun I’ve ever had. On arrival at the accommodation, which was terraced on the hillside, it was down three flights of steep stairs, which didn’t exactly add to the fun. I was absolutely knackered on arrival, but there was still work to be done putting bikes together and finding food. At least there was a good view over the Lavaux, over the Lausanne suburb of Lutry, over the lake and over the mountains (the Lavaux is a world heritage region famous for wine and vineyards).

The bikes were almost rebuilt before it got dark, while Deirdre went off to find food. The nearest shop had just closed, and the bigger supermarket was a mile down a very steep hill, which just wasn’t happening at this time of night and in our knackered and sore state, so we raided the cupboards in our Airbnb and cobbled together what we could. Rice, tuna, peppers. That’ll do. It was a dinner with an amazing view. Then gratefully off to sleep. Unfortunately we missed the parade of nations as we hadn’t arrived early enough to make it.

The next day was busy. Down to registration on the bike. Via a steep downhill and some of the closed roads we would be racing on. The roads were brilliant. So smooth. Not a bump or a pothole in sight. The lake looked amazing. So inviting. I couldn’t wait for a dip later in the day after “business” was all finished. I got all my numbers and stickers and chips and bits and pieces and racked my road bike for the sprint race the following day, which for me would start at just after 11am. A good time for a triathlon to start – mostly they start very early, so 11am would allow more sleep time and be less of a rush in the morning. It would be warmer at 11am, and I wanted it to be warm, to help with Kona preparations.

By now we were hungry, and had realised Switzerland was indeed an expensive place. Wandering along the waterfront’s hotels and restaurants, seeing prices of 80 francs (£60+!) for lunch was almost enough to kill off any hunger. In the end we found a good pizzeria on the side of one of the hills I’d be riding up tomorrow. It was a great feed with a great view of some of the racing that was already going on.

One of the hills on the bike course. It took me a few goes to get the 

confidence to take the preceding corner flat out...

Lausanne, and in particular the race area around the waterfront, was buzzing. The whole world was here – all nationalities – Irish, British, various European nations, plenty of Americans and Canadians, a big Mexican squad, Brazilians, South Africans, Australians, New Zealanders, Asians. All ages. Para-triathletes. Elites. People from all over, united by sport. It was brilliant. The world championships. In great weather. How it should be!

We ambled up to the Olympic museum where the Team Ireland briefing was to take place. What a venue for a race briefing, in a big air-conditioned auditorium in the Olympic museum. I’d have happily stayed in there out of the heat for the rest of the day. It was good to chat to a few other Team Ireland competitors and meet our team management and media officers etc. I also saw the “hill” in the grounds of the Olympic park that we’d have to run up. It was the steepest thing I’d ever seen.

Then we got the train out to Lutry, downhill from where we were staying, to finally get a dip in the lake. I was sweaty and filthy and hot and tired and in need of a bit of reinvigoration. I still wasn’t sure if wetsuits would be allowed in the races or not (if the water is above a certain temperature, they aren’t allowed). My wimpishness in getting into water manifested itself yet again as I stood up to my knees trying to steel myself to take the plunge. I hate anything remotely cold. The water didn’t exactly feel cold, but it was fresh enough. Finally I took the plunge and swam about for a bit. It was nice. Not warm, but not cold. In the heat of the day tomorrow, at 11am, with the adrenaline of a race start, and swimming hard as I would be, I wasn’t worried about the water temperature any more. There was a big storm off to the west, and it looked quite dramatic with big dark clouds not far from us. They weren’t moving though, so we were unaffected.

Rejuvenated, we headed for the supermarket and got supplies for the next few days. The plan was then to walk the mile or so back up the hill to our apartment. I hadn’t accounted for the steepness of the hill. It was obscene. It was even steeper than the hill in the Olympic Park. And at least the Olympic Park hill was short. This hill was a mile long. There was nothing else for it. I had to zig-zag up it to reduce the gradient.

With hindsight I’d have paid 50 or 60 francs for a taxi to drive us up because it didn’t do my legs or mood any good. I had been carrying my aero helmet around all day (mainly to ask the transition officials if it was OK to use it in the sprint race). On one of our stops going up the hill, I put it down and didn’t pick it up, and didn’t realise until we were up the hill. I dreaded the thought of going back down. Deirdre went, which I was very grateful for.

Steep or what...

Then I finished putting together the time trial bike, had another very scenic, functional, cost-effective dinner out on the terrace and that was the end of a busy day. The next day was race day. A 7am start. Not too bad. Down on the train to Lausanne central and then a 15 minute walk down the hill to the transition area. A final check of the bike. Yep, the tyres still had air in them. Yep, the bike shoes were still there. I mounted the Garmin computer, calibrated the power meter, put a bottle of Tailwind nutrition drink on the bike. Put my running shoes and sunglasses and running watch in place. Ready to go.

I saw some of the women racing, including a couple of crashes as people weren’t sure exactly where the dismount line was (it was fairly blind from the main road and easy to come on it too quickly), and also there were some mix-ups as to which way to go to start lap two and which way to go to enter transition. As bad as it was to see the crashes, I was glad I now knew in advance exactly which lines to take for the second lap and for transition.

Then a 10 minute walk to the swim start area. We were in good time. We found a quiet spot. I got suited up. No wetsuit. Put on some suncream. Put on some BodyGlide on the parts which might rub. Went for a jog. Windmilled the arms. My back wasn’t feeling great, but it seemed to be more of a superficial pain, rather than a restrictive pain. Or so I hoped. It was time to line up. It would only be an hour of racing. A bit different from an Ironman…

There must have been about a hundred in my age group’s starting pen. It was an in-water start, in chest-deep water. It was really well managed. We were called to the water with 90 seconds to go. I was in position, away off to the right, with 30 seconds to go. No hanging about. Any thoughts I had of possibly toning this race down to save myself for the standard distance race the following day went out the window. I was racing this as hard as I could. I figured I’d be around the middle of the pack after the swim, and that I’d maybe gain a few places on the bike, and hopefully have a decent run to finish somewhere around the top 20. If I could get near the top 10, that would have gone down in my book as a very, very good day out. But equally I wouldn’t have been surprised with 40th or 50th.

My race starting, I'll be on the far side under the black rock

The starting horn went. We were off. 300m out to the first buoy, turn left, 150m across, turn again at the second buoy, and then in to shore. I tend to swim off to the side, away from all the aggression and argy-bargy. Maybe I lose a little bit of time because I don’t draft much in the swim, but I think that balances out with reduced risk of being kicked or thumped or dunked. The lake was very flat and calm, the temperature was decent, and I swam fairly hard, without going into an all-out flat-out swim. 

I had hoped to squeak under 11 minutes for the swim, and I had thought I would be no slower than 12. It was the first time I’ve done a non-wetsuit swim, and swimming in only my tri-suit felt a bit strange. But I made the best of it and was soon shore-bound. At the Team Ireland briefing we had been told about using the big tree as a sighting guide when heading for shore, and sure enough, it was a good marker and I headed straight for it.

It was difficult to tell where I was in the race. I had a quick look at my watch at the swim exit. Just over 12 minutes. Not a super-fast swim by any stretch of the imagination. I think I was 23rd out of the water (out of almost 100), but I didn’t know it at the time. Anyway, it was what it was. Now to get on with things.    

Through transition, helmet on, sunglasses on, bike shoes on. I always put my bike shoes on in transition. This cost me another 30 seconds (which is a lot in a race of just over an hour), but my logic is that there’s less risk of damaging my feet on stones or glass in transition, also I can give my feet a bit of a clean to reduce the amount of grit in my shoes before I put them on, and then when I do mount the bike I can simply go “click, click”, get both feet clipped straight into the pedals, and get going, without worrying about getting feet into pedal-mounted shoes, without worrying about tightening the straps of the shoes, and without weaving all over the road while looking down to do up the shoes.

And sure enough as soon as my feet were clipped in I passed a few people who were trying to do up their shoes. My Garmin wouldn’t turn on. I wanted it to turn on so I could see and record my power. It just wouldn’t come on. Maybe this helped, because I couldn’t see the massive power spikes I was outputting. Maybe it was better not to know how hard I was going…

I knew there would be groups ahead that I would have to catch. I was cycling so hard. As hard as I could. No holding back. Almost immediately it was into a fairly steep hill, maybe 2-3 minutes to get up. I was going well up the hill. I passed a couple of Irish supporters. At the top it turned right, and became a false flat. I love false flats. I got good speed going compared to most of the others around me, and made my way to the front of the group.

I could see I’d have to give the vocal cords a bit of a workout when coming through, to make sure that people knew I was coming, and to reduce the risk of crashing. The false flat led into a long sweeping downhill, and I wanted clear air in front of me for this so I hammered to get to the front. People seemed to be coasting down the hill, but I kept the power on, and a big train followed me down the hill into the tight U-turn at the bottom. Then it was back up. My legs felt good. High power, although I couldn’t see it on the Garmin. I reckon I was doing 500-600 watts in places. Not bad for 63kg. I glanced back. There was an army of cyclists all sitting in my slipstream, getting a free ride.

I shouted and flicked the elbow to try to get someone to come through and share the work. No-one did. On the flat section across the top I eased a bit to let people come through, then I tucked in behind. It felt far too easy in the slipstream. It’s only 30 minutes on the bike. It’s not meant to feel easy. I felt good. I piled on the power as much as I could. Absolutely no holding back. I took to the front again as I wanted clear air for the steepest downhill section. It was like going off a cliff. So fast, with a big stop and right hander at the bottom. Someone was standing at the exit of the corner trying to fix what looked like a flat tyre. It was a very dangerous place to be, and I shouted at him to move.

I was now catching more people on the flat, and passing them. They were joining the train behind. I was a little tentative in the corners as I didn’t know the course and after all my crashes and injuries on bikes, I’m naturally a little more tentative now. The train broke up on the narrow ascent on the west end of the course. Lapping or passing slower athletes helped contribute to it becoming a bit of a free-for-all as we each tried to pick our lines and tried to ride hard enough but breathe gently enough to show others we were doing good, without going too far into the red. There was still a run to come…

I was still feeling good and I knew if I got through the bike, my run should be OK. It was a narrow descent down onto the lakefront road, which was high speed. I was able to get into the time trial position, forearms on the handlebars and hands dangling ahead. It was exhilarating, and fast, and very smooth. Like riding on a magic carpet. I passed transition, and started the second lap. I had to get the voice going again as people in later waves were exiting transition and the road was busy. My Garmin finally decided to start working, but the pace and concentration were so high that I hardly ever got to look at it. I wasn’t wearing a heart rate monitor either. Sometimes it’s better not to know…

Again up the hill beside where we’d had lunch the previous day. Legs still playing ball. Going well. Again I made sure I had clean air for the sweeping descent. Powered back up the hill. Onto the top flat section. High speed. Down the steep hill that was like going off a cliff. When you know the road is clear, you can let loose. It’s exciting. You brake at the bottom for the right hander as late as you dare. Onto the bottom flat. Up the hill at the far end. The bike section was passing quickly. Down again. Onto the flat. A Swiss guy started to look like he wanted to share the work, but at this stage the bike was nearly over. He was fast/brave through the corners and I had to work very hard to close the gaps he was getting. Then I eased off for the final hundred metres into transition. I felt I’d biked well. I think it was the second-fastest bike of the day. About 10 of us all hit transition at the same time. I'd done pretty much 30 minutes flat for the hilly 20km, I think it turned out that this was the second-fastest bike split of the day.

Again I clumped through transition in my bike shoes, racked the bike, changed my shoes and got going. Immediately I felt good running. Usually in short-course triathlons the run is my strong point. I quickly passed a few people. I said to myself I would try not to be passed by anyone. Ahead was a Ukrainian who had come into transition in my group. He was running well as I didn’t catch him as quickly as others. I focused on him. I’d get him. I hoped. I ran as hard as I dared. I knew the Olympic park section would be tough. It was hot. I didn’t want to blow up and lose pace. I passed the Ukrainian. He couldn’t stick with my pace. I was pleased about that…

After just under a mile on the flat, we hit the first hill in the park. People were walking it, or doing what they could to run it. I ran it measuredly, because running it as hard as possible could have dire consequences coming back to bite me in the final mile. There was a tough zig-zag descent off this, with a few tights hairpins and it was impossible to open the legs out. Then another ascent, another descent, another ascent, and a descent out to the far side of the course. A tough hilly section. Then it was back towards the finish for about 300m, a U-turn, out again, another U-turn, and then back towards the finish. Team Ireland had great support on course and it makes such a difference.

No-one had passed me yet and I was still running well. I kept passing people. I felt I was putting together a reasonable race in the circumstances, and I couldn’t ask for more than to be able to say that. I had less than a mile to hold on. I remember passing two British athletes with about half a mile to go. They looked about my age. One gasped “how do you do that?” and the other just grunted “f**k…” I’ll take it as a compliment!

Then it was into the finishing straight. I overtook a Mexican guy. But the finishing straight was where people sometimes raise a big sprint finish in front of the crowds. The Mexican guy started to sprint. I didn’t even know if he was in the same age group as me but I wasn’t having any of it – no-one had passed me yet and I wasn’t about to be passed 10 metres from the line, so whatever energy I had remaining was left on that finishing straight to keep him behind. I ran well under 18 minutes for the 5km on a hilly hot course, which was the fastest run of the race by a good margin.

The next thing I heard was the finish line announcer over the loudspeakers saying something about “male 35-39 second place finisher”. Well that’s my age group, so who was second then? Not me surely?! Was it me? Couldn’t be! I was looking around, waving two fingers and pointing at myself and shaking my head and shrugging and trying to make eye contact with someone who might know.

Then I saw two Irish guys in their distinctive green Triathlon Ireland polo shirts. They confirmed it. Second in the world. Second in the world?! What on earth?! How could that be?! They took a quick photo and then the winner came up and shook my hand and said congratulations. I had never ever expected to be on the podium. It was unbelievable. Yes I’d had a good race, but this was the world championships. I was ready to be told I’d finished in 31st or 23rd or maybe 15th or something, but second?!

Then the horrible perfectionist in me (sometimes this is a good trait, sometimes not) started wondering how I could have found that minute to win it. My back hadn’t been good. My gum/tooth hadn’t been good. My “hillwalking” escapades yesterday hadn’t been good. Honestly speaking, my training hadn’t even been that good, I was only 6-7 weeks after an Ironman and Lausanne hadn’t been a massive focus for me. My swim hadn’t been all that great. My transitions were fairly slow. But then I had to tell myself that I was second in the world, way beyond anything I ever thought I could achieve here, and that I’d have to focus on that for now instead of the “what-ifs…”

I felt pretty good in the immediate aftermath. Athletes were stripping off, standing under cold hosepipes, pouring water over themselves. I was fine. A volunteer smiled and pointed a hose at me, and I quickly had to say “non, non, non merci” and rapidly get out of her vicinity… I hate the cold.

I got my finisher’s medal, got some water and electrolyte on board, got a banana and an energy bar and then I saw Deirdre up on the top promenade in the crowds. There were a few other Irish about as well. I still couldn’t really believe it, second in the world. That was about all I could say to anyone – “I really didn’t expect that!”

Team Ireland had another medallist: 70-year-old Roisin Lynch from Derry, won a silver. Phenomenal stuff. I didn’t know her but I’d meet her at the awards ceremony the following evening (more on this in the following blog post). Triathlon Ireland had been really good with their social media updates during the race, giving great coverage to everyone, and the two medals were already publicised with a few good photos and videos. I’m not really one for much interaction on social media but the Triathlon Ireland media team did a really good job and it was really cool to be able to watch video clips and look back at race photos. 

We found a quiet shaded spot a bit away from the action and chaos of the aftermath of the sprint race, and sat down and took stock. I took my recovery drink. I’m not really one for celebrations, but I couldn’t do anything today anyway as I had the standard distance race, now only about 19 hours away… I went for a jog to get the blood flowing and the lactic dissipating, and realised my running shoes (with no socks, for speed in transition) had rubbed on the top of my foot and there was a small blister. But apart from that, all seemed good. Had the standard race been first, I would have been a lot more fatigued.

Results

There was then more business to sort out. I had to pick my bike up, ride back up the hill to the apartment, pick up my other bike, ride back down, and get it racked for tomorrow. The first flat bit on the way back was a nice easy cycle. I got chatting to an Aussie guy who was also heading back to his accommodation after his sprint race. He was also doing both races. He said he wished he wasn’t after today…

A fairly cheap (butnot a bad) second hand bike, a cheap helmet,
hairy legs and not much specific training led to a silver medal.

This is getting me thinking about next year...

Then that hill back up to the apartment… it was so tough. So unneeded. I laboured up it. I was dripping with sweat and knackered and hungry and needed a lukewarm shower (that’s as close to a cold shower as I’ll get). The plan had been to get lunch after the second bike was racked, but I was so  hungry by now and I devoured a massive bowl of muesli.

Then it was back down to rack the time trial bike. I was checked in by the same Dutch official who had checked me into and out of the sprint race. He knew I had finished second. “You must go one better tomorrow!” he said. I just laughed. Doubtful. Food was much needed by now. We had vouchers for free food from the expo area, and couldn’t really be bothered walking to find an overpriced restaurant, so some tremendous pasta and pizza was consumed. To be fair, it could have been the worst pizza and pasta in the world but at that moment anything would have seemed tremendous. I managed to see some of the elite men finishing their races. Some big names. Brownlee. Mola. Alarza. Blummenfelt. Etc. The best in the world.

We wandered down to the swim start area thinking we’d have another dip. A few others had obviously thought likewise. But alas a lifeguard soon put paid to that, telling us the beach was closed and there was no swimming. What a load of rubbish. How can you close a section of lake?! He pointed to the adjacent beach and said to go there. And made it very clear there would be no swimming on his patch.

So we went “next door” and got our dip. Again it was great. Such a great place to swim, with the French Alps over on the far side of the lake, and a nice Lausanne waterfront on our side, with warm(ish), clear blue-green water in between. Superb.

Then it was back to the apartment, via seeing the elite women on their runs (again all the big names were there) and dinner on the terrace as it got dark, watching the lights of the French towns start to twinkle in the distance. Such a view. There were storms in the vicinity, as lightning was flashing over the mountains off to the east and south. Spectacular stuff. I could have watched it all night. The weather for tomorrow was to be reasonable in the morning, leading into afternoon and evening rain showers. My cleats had been absolutely ruined by clumping through transition, they were now unusable. Fortunately I was able to get a spare pair and change them over.

Flora Duffy

Nicola Spirig

It was an early bed as it would be an early start for the standard race tomorrow. My wave was due off at just after 8am which meant a 5am alarm, and with no public transport running so early on Sunday morning, we had to book a taxi… So ended the 2019 world sprint triathlon championship day… What a day.

(I haven't yet bought any of the official race photos yet but if I do I will upload a few).