The daffodils are blooming and Xmas and New Year already seem like dim and distant memories... yet it is still only the first week of January.
Since moving house last year, blogging has taken a back seat to the long emails I write regularly to my mum to let her know how I am getting on. Exercise has also taken a back seat (most recently to an unhealthy preoccupation with the vast selection of entertainment on Netflix). I intend to remedy both of these situations.
I will still email my mum (and just try and tear me away from season two of An American Horror Story) but I will make time to sit at my computer and write. My husband has entered me into my first triathlon (not counting the tandem triathlon that we did together back in Shropshire) which is a huge motivation to get out running, cycling and swimming... so that takes care of the exercise deficiency.
I have already completed my first timed 5K run of the year (although I'm having to pinch myself that that actually happened) and although it was, what some would say, a pitifully slow 38 minute 5K, it was still 5K and it was a start. This blog post is probably the literary equivalent of a 38 minute 5K, but again, it is a start.
Happy New Year x
Showing posts with label triathlon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label triathlon. Show all posts
Friday, 8 January 2016
Thursday, 15 October 2015
Tandem Triathlon
My little Addy goes to 'Magic Club' one evening a week at her new school. She loves it. She especially loves it because dad takes her to and from school on the back of our tandem bike, weather permitting. As I watched them ride off together this week, I was reminded that I never published the post I had written about the Tandem Triathlon I took part in with my husband during the summer before we moved. It was a big deal for me so rather than deleting the draft, I have published it here for my benefit more than anything. If you choose to continue reading, be warned, it is a bit of a long one! Alternatively, here is a little video of Addy practising her magic tricks.
Tandem Triathlon
We had a plan, my husband and I - a plan to find a moment of calm amidst the chaos. A weekend somewhere lovely away from the demands of the family and work - time for us - time to recharge and reconnect.
It didn't happen.
We did, however, have a date in the diary to compete in a Tandem Triathlon. For want of a better plan, that was to become the time for us.
We had not trained properly for this event.
My husband was to do the 1K swim. He is a strong swimmer. This was never going to be a problem.
He is also a good cyclist but our trips out on the tandem to see what we could do have been few and far between. We hadn't even come close to attempting the 35km demanded by the triathlon and we were slightly concerned by a problem with the gears that may or may not have been sorted by the local bicycle shop.
The run was my responsiblity. My running training had been virtually non existent but I had completed a 5 mile fun run recently which gave me a bit of confidence. I have NEVER run after a bike ride of any length... let alone a 35km one! I was desperately in need of that confidence having suffered a nasty injury to my right leg in an oversized wellies and slippery deck related incident.
Competitors were encouraged to dress up and decorate their tandems if they desired. We didn't have time to come up with an elaborate plan. I grabbed the artificial flowers that had been used to decorate my car on my wedding day (I could never quite bring myself to bin them) and hastily taped them to the handlebars. Perfect.
The triathlon took place in picturesque Bishops Castle in South Shropshire - picturesque and hilly. I don't know why but I had the impression that the competitors would be mostly long bearded, dressed in the style of Morris Dancers and possibly smelling slightly of incense. I couldn't have been more wrong. Admittedly there were a few couples who had embraced the dress up element of the competition but there were some serious looking lycra clad athletes too.
We signed in, wrestled the bike off the roof of the car and tried to organise everything we needed for the various stages of the event. It was warm and sunny so plenty of water and suntan lotion were among the necessities.
Before long, it was my husband's time in the water. I watched him for a while before going to the transition area to wait with the tandem. It was a very shallow pool. My 6' 4" husband looked quite ridiculous standing in it waiting for the cue to go. His swimming style did not have his usual effortless grace. This may have been attributed to the fact that his arms must have been scraping the bottom of the pool with each stroke!
It was a beautiful day and it was lovely chatting to the other competitors waiting for their partners to emerge from the pool complex ready for the second discipline. The transition was quite relaxed and then, we were off.
I love being on the back of the tandem. I can't see a great deal and have to have total trust in my husband but that isn't difficult at all. The countryside was whizzing past me and I was smiling at marshalls and other tandems coming back the other way. It was glorious. We were picking up a good head of speed going down the hills and that gave us enough momentum to climb up the hills without too much of a problem.
Then the hill happened.
The hill that went on forever.
The hill that saw our speed drop so slow we were barely moving.
The hill that required every bit of effort we could muster just to stop ourselves from rolling backwards.
But we made it. Somehow, we made it.
The bad news was that we would have to climb that hill again. Not all the way to the top but about three quarters of the way up was the run transition. My leg muscles were screaming. The idea of getting off the bike and running after climbing that hill a second time seemed impossible. On top of that, after the run there would be a further 5km on the tandem to reach the final finish line. I didn't even want to think about it.
So I didn't.
We were on our way again in a landscape that rewarded you with some downhill for the uphill exertions. The sun shone, but not too much. It was wonderful. I was loving it again.
Going up one hill, we were overtaken by a shiny red high performance sports car that made a throaty roar as it accelerated past us. This somehow added to my elation.
Unfortunately, my elation could not last forever. I had been worried about my injured right leg and had maybe been allowing my left leg to take on more of the strain for that reason. My left leg decided it had had enough. My knee started to hurt. My knee continued to hurt. The hurt intensified. I wanted to cry. Our dodgy gears were behaving fine but my knee was a different story.
I thought that if I was able to stretch my leg for a while it might ease the pain. I took my foot out of the toe strap, off the pedal and felt wonderful relief as I straightened my sorry limb. We also felt the disconcerting bumping of the toe strap hitting the road with every revolution of the pedals. Vaguely reminiscent of my husbands awkward swimming style in the shallow pool, we were losing our rhythm and at risk of coming off the bike. Lovely as it was to have relief from the pain, my leg had to go back on the pedal.
I was reassured that the pain had disappeared as soon as I had changed position. It was back now, with a vengeance, but I felt more confident that it was just muscle cramping and I could pedal through it. We free wheeled when we could so I had the chance to stretch it out again and it felt great. Mostly, I put up with the pain and prayed that I wasn't doing any actual damage.
When we got to the hill for the second time, my emotions were all over the place. I had the pleasure of knowing that this part of the bike ride was nearly over, the excitement of knowing that my leg was soon going to be free from the crippling constraint, fear that we still had to make it up the hill somehow and the absolute leap of faith that I would somehow still be able to run.
I could only push up the hill with my one good leg. Three legs pedalling failed to do what four legs had only just managed to do the first time. The bike did literally reach the point that the upward forces were less than the downward forces. We stopped. We walked the bike up the hill and I was hugely gratified that I could in fact walk! Maybe I'd be able to run. The gradient of the hill became slightly flatter at the turn off into the forest for the run transition so I bravely suggested getting back on the bike to ride in with dignity.
I made use of a portaloo. I gagged on a warm, gloopy energy gel. I grabbed a water bottle and I was off. I was running. Slowly, but I was running.
I knew the run was though forest trails which is my favourite kind of running. What I didn't know was that it was through forest trails up a mountain. (Maybe it wasn't exactly a mountain but it was a very big hill). My leg didn't feel too bad but my heart was pounding and I was so hot. I drank sips of water, ran when I felt able and walked (briskly) when I needed to. This was going to be a slow 10K but at least with all this uphill I was guaranteed some downhill where I could hopefully make up some time.
My run/brisk walk strategy degenerated into a slow walk/drag strategy. Even the feeding stations with their generous rations of jelly babies, crisps, biscuits and drinks could not energise me. But I was still standing and slowly making forward progress up the incline that just kept inclining!
Eventually, and not a moment too soon, the gradient flattened out. I had reached the top and saw before me a plateau. A gently undulating meadow plateau. It was what I had been working for and there it was. My slow walk/drag turned into a shuffling jog. I shuffled and I jogged and my heart sang. A short way further and I could see the inevitable downward gradient. All I had to do was let gravity carry me down the hill to the finish. I might even make up a bit of the time I had lost on my ascent. How could I have known that the pain I had felt climbing the hill would be insignificant compared with the pain of coming down?
As soon as the downward gradient became noticeable, my left leg seized up completely. Bearing in mind this happened mid stride and was as shocking as it was painful, I did well not to fall over. With a series of comedy hops to keep upright, I managed to slow myself to a stop and then tentatively tried to take my weight on my left leg. It was having none of it. I was quite scared for two reasons: firstly, had I done some real damage here that I might never recover from and secondly HOW THE HELL WAS I GOING TO GET DOWN THIS BLOODY MOUNTAIN?
The limit to how many swimmers could fit into the pool at any one time meant that the race was organised with staggered start times over a long period of time. There was never much of a sense of competing with anyone other than yourself and the spread of other competitors throughout the entire course meant there was not a great deal of camaraderie or support available. I was pretty much alone up that mountain. Alone and in trouble. All I could do was man up and face the challenge of getting down. I rested. I massaged the offending limb. I eventually braved walking. It was an awkward walk but it sort of worked.
All the way down the mountain I kept thinking how wonderful it would be to be running but was also grateful that I was at least moving in the right direction. I may have looked like an extra from a zombie apocalypse movie, I may have been grimacing, but I was making progress again. Dragging my bad leg painfully behind me, hop limping... I was making progress.
After a long, torturous time, my spirits lifted when I recognised the terrain that I had run through at the start of the ordeal which meant it was nearly over. My mind was taken off my trials when another struggling runner caught up with me and walked with me for a while. We chatted and commiserated with each other and then the finish line came into view. I encouraged him to go for it and do a good finish. As I watched him muster all his energy to pick up pace I decided to take a chance and do the same. The elation of seeing the finish line combined with the brief respite that the company had given me combined to give me super powers when I needed them most. By 'super powers' I do of course only mean coming back from the Walking Dead to the elevated status of Broken Runner... but I was mrunning. I felt amazing. I felt like that shiny red high performance sports car that had overtaken us on the cycle ride. I let out my own throaty roar and it was over. My husband waiting in the transition area was paying no attention. My triumph was mine alone.
We still had the 5km bike ride to the Final Finish before this triathlon over. There was no way that my leg was going to be fit to pedal. Using the tape we'd attached our 'fancy dress' flowers with (resourceful!), my husband fixed the toe strap so it would not hit the road with every revolution and I 'one-legged' cycled the final stretch.
I would love to say that crossing the final finish line was everything I dreamt it would be but I was in far too much pain. We did not stay for the celebrations which included a BBQ and a Ceilidh (which to my shame I had pronounced Sea-Lid anyway). All I wanted was to have a nice hot bath and to rest in the comfort of my own home... which we did.
This was supposed to be 'time for us', my husband and I... time to recharge and connect. My leg may have let me down badly but honestly, it ticked all the other boxes. Would I do it again? Definitely. But next time, I might just do the swim and let him take on the run!
Tandem Triathlon
We had a plan, my husband and I - a plan to find a moment of calm amidst the chaos. A weekend somewhere lovely away from the demands of the family and work - time for us - time to recharge and reconnect.
It didn't happen.
We did, however, have a date in the diary to compete in a Tandem Triathlon. For want of a better plan, that was to become the time for us.
We had not trained properly for this event.
My husband was to do the 1K swim. He is a strong swimmer. This was never going to be a problem.
He is also a good cyclist but our trips out on the tandem to see what we could do have been few and far between. We hadn't even come close to attempting the 35km demanded by the triathlon and we were slightly concerned by a problem with the gears that may or may not have been sorted by the local bicycle shop.
The run was my responsiblity. My running training had been virtually non existent but I had completed a 5 mile fun run recently which gave me a bit of confidence. I have NEVER run after a bike ride of any length... let alone a 35km one! I was desperately in need of that confidence having suffered a nasty injury to my right leg in an oversized wellies and slippery deck related incident.
 |
| The bruise in its yellow phase! |
Competitors were encouraged to dress up and decorate their tandems if they desired. We didn't have time to come up with an elaborate plan. I grabbed the artificial flowers that had been used to decorate my car on my wedding day (I could never quite bring myself to bin them) and hastily taped them to the handlebars. Perfect.
The triathlon took place in picturesque Bishops Castle in South Shropshire - picturesque and hilly. I don't know why but I had the impression that the competitors would be mostly long bearded, dressed in the style of Morris Dancers and possibly smelling slightly of incense. I couldn't have been more wrong. Admittedly there were a few couples who had embraced the dress up element of the competition but there were some serious looking lycra clad athletes too.
We signed in, wrestled the bike off the roof of the car and tried to organise everything we needed for the various stages of the event. It was warm and sunny so plenty of water and suntan lotion were among the necessities.
Before long, it was my husband's time in the water. I watched him for a while before going to the transition area to wait with the tandem. It was a very shallow pool. My 6' 4" husband looked quite ridiculous standing in it waiting for the cue to go. His swimming style did not have his usual effortless grace. This may have been attributed to the fact that his arms must have been scraping the bottom of the pool with each stroke!
It was a beautiful day and it was lovely chatting to the other competitors waiting for their partners to emerge from the pool complex ready for the second discipline. The transition was quite relaxed and then, we were off.
I love being on the back of the tandem. I can't see a great deal and have to have total trust in my husband but that isn't difficult at all. The countryside was whizzing past me and I was smiling at marshalls and other tandems coming back the other way. It was glorious. We were picking up a good head of speed going down the hills and that gave us enough momentum to climb up the hills without too much of a problem.
Then the hill happened.
The hill that went on forever.
The hill that saw our speed drop so slow we were barely moving.
The hill that required every bit of effort we could muster just to stop ourselves from rolling backwards.
But we made it. Somehow, we made it.
The bad news was that we would have to climb that hill again. Not all the way to the top but about three quarters of the way up was the run transition. My leg muscles were screaming. The idea of getting off the bike and running after climbing that hill a second time seemed impossible. On top of that, after the run there would be a further 5km on the tandem to reach the final finish line. I didn't even want to think about it.
So I didn't.
We were on our way again in a landscape that rewarded you with some downhill for the uphill exertions. The sun shone, but not too much. It was wonderful. I was loving it again.
Going up one hill, we were overtaken by a shiny red high performance sports car that made a throaty roar as it accelerated past us. This somehow added to my elation.
Unfortunately, my elation could not last forever. I had been worried about my injured right leg and had maybe been allowing my left leg to take on more of the strain for that reason. My left leg decided it had had enough. My knee started to hurt. My knee continued to hurt. The hurt intensified. I wanted to cry. Our dodgy gears were behaving fine but my knee was a different story.
I thought that if I was able to stretch my leg for a while it might ease the pain. I took my foot out of the toe strap, off the pedal and felt wonderful relief as I straightened my sorry limb. We also felt the disconcerting bumping of the toe strap hitting the road with every revolution of the pedals. Vaguely reminiscent of my husbands awkward swimming style in the shallow pool, we were losing our rhythm and at risk of coming off the bike. Lovely as it was to have relief from the pain, my leg had to go back on the pedal.
I was reassured that the pain had disappeared as soon as I had changed position. It was back now, with a vengeance, but I felt more confident that it was just muscle cramping and I could pedal through it. We free wheeled when we could so I had the chance to stretch it out again and it felt great. Mostly, I put up with the pain and prayed that I wasn't doing any actual damage.
When we got to the hill for the second time, my emotions were all over the place. I had the pleasure of knowing that this part of the bike ride was nearly over, the excitement of knowing that my leg was soon going to be free from the crippling constraint, fear that we still had to make it up the hill somehow and the absolute leap of faith that I would somehow still be able to run.
I could only push up the hill with my one good leg. Three legs pedalling failed to do what four legs had only just managed to do the first time. The bike did literally reach the point that the upward forces were less than the downward forces. We stopped. We walked the bike up the hill and I was hugely gratified that I could in fact walk! Maybe I'd be able to run. The gradient of the hill became slightly flatter at the turn off into the forest for the run transition so I bravely suggested getting back on the bike to ride in with dignity.
I made use of a portaloo. I gagged on a warm, gloopy energy gel. I grabbed a water bottle and I was off. I was running. Slowly, but I was running.
I knew the run was though forest trails which is my favourite kind of running. What I didn't know was that it was through forest trails up a mountain. (Maybe it wasn't exactly a mountain but it was a very big hill). My leg didn't feel too bad but my heart was pounding and I was so hot. I drank sips of water, ran when I felt able and walked (briskly) when I needed to. This was going to be a slow 10K but at least with all this uphill I was guaranteed some downhill where I could hopefully make up some time.
My run/brisk walk strategy degenerated into a slow walk/drag strategy. Even the feeding stations with their generous rations of jelly babies, crisps, biscuits and drinks could not energise me. But I was still standing and slowly making forward progress up the incline that just kept inclining!
 |
| Looking rough at the halfway point selfie |
Eventually, and not a moment too soon, the gradient flattened out. I had reached the top and saw before me a plateau. A gently undulating meadow plateau. It was what I had been working for and there it was. My slow walk/drag turned into a shuffling jog. I shuffled and I jogged and my heart sang. A short way further and I could see the inevitable downward gradient. All I had to do was let gravity carry me down the hill to the finish. I might even make up a bit of the time I had lost on my ascent. How could I have known that the pain I had felt climbing the hill would be insignificant compared with the pain of coming down?
As soon as the downward gradient became noticeable, my left leg seized up completely. Bearing in mind this happened mid stride and was as shocking as it was painful, I did well not to fall over. With a series of comedy hops to keep upright, I managed to slow myself to a stop and then tentatively tried to take my weight on my left leg. It was having none of it. I was quite scared for two reasons: firstly, had I done some real damage here that I might never recover from and secondly HOW THE HELL WAS I GOING TO GET DOWN THIS BLOODY MOUNTAIN?
The limit to how many swimmers could fit into the pool at any one time meant that the race was organised with staggered start times over a long period of time. There was never much of a sense of competing with anyone other than yourself and the spread of other competitors throughout the entire course meant there was not a great deal of camaraderie or support available. I was pretty much alone up that mountain. Alone and in trouble. All I could do was man up and face the challenge of getting down. I rested. I massaged the offending limb. I eventually braved walking. It was an awkward walk but it sort of worked.
All the way down the mountain I kept thinking how wonderful it would be to be running but was also grateful that I was at least moving in the right direction. I may have looked like an extra from a zombie apocalypse movie, I may have been grimacing, but I was making progress again. Dragging my bad leg painfully behind me, hop limping... I was making progress.
After a long, torturous time, my spirits lifted when I recognised the terrain that I had run through at the start of the ordeal which meant it was nearly over. My mind was taken off my trials when another struggling runner caught up with me and walked with me for a while. We chatted and commiserated with each other and then the finish line came into view. I encouraged him to go for it and do a good finish. As I watched him muster all his energy to pick up pace I decided to take a chance and do the same. The elation of seeing the finish line combined with the brief respite that the company had given me combined to give me super powers when I needed them most. By 'super powers' I do of course only mean coming back from the Walking Dead to the elevated status of Broken Runner... but I was mrunning. I felt amazing. I felt like that shiny red high performance sports car that had overtaken us on the cycle ride. I let out my own throaty roar and it was over. My husband waiting in the transition area was paying no attention. My triumph was mine alone.
We still had the 5km bike ride to the Final Finish before this triathlon over. There was no way that my leg was going to be fit to pedal. Using the tape we'd attached our 'fancy dress' flowers with (resourceful!), my husband fixed the toe strap so it would not hit the road with every revolution and I 'one-legged' cycled the final stretch.
I would love to say that crossing the final finish line was everything I dreamt it would be but I was in far too much pain. We did not stay for the celebrations which included a BBQ and a Ceilidh (which to my shame I had pronounced Sea-Lid anyway). All I wanted was to have a nice hot bath and to rest in the comfort of my own home... which we did.
This was supposed to be 'time for us', my husband and I... time to recharge and connect. My leg may have let me down badly but honestly, it ticked all the other boxes. Would I do it again? Definitely. But next time, I might just do the swim and let him take on the run!
Monday, 12 January 2015
Sink or Swim
A few months ago, my daughter's boyfriend stood her up on a date. Instead of cancelling the booking she'd made at the new Mexican restaurant that had opened nearby, she asked if I'd like to take his place As much as I love putting my little ones to bed and having quiet nights in with my husband, I try not to miss the opportunity for the occasional 'girls night out', so I gladly agreed.
The food was lovely and as my daughter was doing the driving, I enjoyed some mexican beer with my meal.
We were not very tempted by the dessert menu but I had a voucher for a free pint of ale at the pub where another of my daughters works as a barmaid, so we decided to pay her a visit. We were spoilt for choice there with the mouthwatering range of desserts.
One delicious cheesecake and a pint of Joules Green Monkey, later I was feeling very mellow.
This was the point that my daughter swooped in to make a proposition.
She wanted to do a triathlon and she wanted me to do it with her.
I have to say that this came as quite a shock. She is OK with the running part but the cycling and swimming ... not so much.The last time she rode a bike she fell off on a main road. She sustained a good collection of minor injuries and a massive dent in her confidence. As for the swimming, like me she is a 'width' swimmer, not a length swimmer!
If she was prepared to put herself so far out of her comfort zone to challenge herself to do something new, the least I could do would be to support her. And if that meant rooting through the dark recesses of my wardrobe to dig out a swimming costume, so be it.
At the start of the new year, we both went along to our local swimming pool and bought into the membership scheme. Just over a week later, I've already done half a dozen sessions.
I have never been a good swimmer.
My mum always had her own unique swimming style. She could swim tirelessly for length after length in a robotic, rhythmic breaststroke without ever getting her hair wet or her mascara running. I don't remember her ever playing with me as a child in the water to build my confidence or teaching me to swim.
My dad was the complete opposite. He could hold his breath for ever and swim whole lengths underwater. His swimming style wasn't exactly elegant or effortless but he had a 'Tarzan' quality about him and I could imagine him fighting alligators with the same ease that he pulled himself through the water. He boasted that he taught his brother to swim by throwing him in the canal and would probably have done the same to me if he'd had a canal handy. He always wanted to throw me about in the water but rather than building confidence, it actually made me very fearful. I would panic if my head went under the water. I'd panic if I was splashed in the face. I hated not being the confident water loving child that would have made my dad happy but it just wasn't me.
My husband is a very calm and patient man and he has helped me to overcome a lot of the fear but it is an ongoing battle.
I have been watching instructional videos about correct technique and working really hard to put the instruction into practice. It is a bit like learning to drive. There are so many things to think about, co-ordinate and get right. I am forever hopeful that, like driving, one day it will all come together and feel very normal but I am a long way off that yet.
My first big breakthrough was investing in a pair of swimming goggles. I always used to swim with my eyes shut which magnified the rising panic. Being able to see underwater and not having to worry about the splashing in my eyes has helped me so much. I keep calmer and I now swim in a relatively straight line rather than diagonally across the pool as I have done in the recent past.
The next big breakthrough was the realisation that slowing everything down makes perfect sense. My natural instinct was always to kick and splash my arms around as rapidly as possible to stop from sinking like a stone. Having more confidence in my ability to float and taking time with the strokes means I get less tired and creates more space to breathe. I know I can slow it down even more and really focus on technique. It is this improvement potential that I can see ahead of me that gives me the motivation to keep going back to the pool.
It can be frustrating when I see other swimmers doing so much better than me but I have to keep stopping to remember where I came from. Before I started a week or so ago, I could barely manage one length. Now, I am not even bothering to count the lengths.
I'm still not sure how I feel about actually doing the triathlon. At the moment I have the luxury of sharing the pool with a handful of other swimmers. For the eight lengths of the triathlon I will almost certainly have the kicking legs of other contenders in close proximity. I am trying very hard not to worry about that right now!
If nothing else, all this swimming is bound to have a positive impact on my running. Unfortunately, the only thing that will have a positive impact on the swimming, is MORE swimming. I better get myself back down to the pool!
The food was lovely and as my daughter was doing the driving, I enjoyed some mexican beer with my meal.
We were not very tempted by the dessert menu but I had a voucher for a free pint of ale at the pub where another of my daughters works as a barmaid, so we decided to pay her a visit. We were spoilt for choice there with the mouthwatering range of desserts.
One delicious cheesecake and a pint of Joules Green Monkey, later I was feeling very mellow.
This was the point that my daughter swooped in to make a proposition.
She wanted to do a triathlon and she wanted me to do it with her.
I have to say that this came as quite a shock. She is OK with the running part but the cycling and swimming ... not so much.The last time she rode a bike she fell off on a main road. She sustained a good collection of minor injuries and a massive dent in her confidence. As for the swimming, like me she is a 'width' swimmer, not a length swimmer!
If she was prepared to put herself so far out of her comfort zone to challenge herself to do something new, the least I could do would be to support her. And if that meant rooting through the dark recesses of my wardrobe to dig out a swimming costume, so be it.
At the start of the new year, we both went along to our local swimming pool and bought into the membership scheme. Just over a week later, I've already done half a dozen sessions.
I have never been a good swimmer.
My mum always had her own unique swimming style. She could swim tirelessly for length after length in a robotic, rhythmic breaststroke without ever getting her hair wet or her mascara running. I don't remember her ever playing with me as a child in the water to build my confidence or teaching me to swim.
My dad was the complete opposite. He could hold his breath for ever and swim whole lengths underwater. His swimming style wasn't exactly elegant or effortless but he had a 'Tarzan' quality about him and I could imagine him fighting alligators with the same ease that he pulled himself through the water. He boasted that he taught his brother to swim by throwing him in the canal and would probably have done the same to me if he'd had a canal handy. He always wanted to throw me about in the water but rather than building confidence, it actually made me very fearful. I would panic if my head went under the water. I'd panic if I was splashed in the face. I hated not being the confident water loving child that would have made my dad happy but it just wasn't me.
My husband is a very calm and patient man and he has helped me to overcome a lot of the fear but it is an ongoing battle.
I have been watching instructional videos about correct technique and working really hard to put the instruction into practice. It is a bit like learning to drive. There are so many things to think about, co-ordinate and get right. I am forever hopeful that, like driving, one day it will all come together and feel very normal but I am a long way off that yet.
My first big breakthrough was investing in a pair of swimming goggles. I always used to swim with my eyes shut which magnified the rising panic. Being able to see underwater and not having to worry about the splashing in my eyes has helped me so much. I keep calmer and I now swim in a relatively straight line rather than diagonally across the pool as I have done in the recent past.
The next big breakthrough was the realisation that slowing everything down makes perfect sense. My natural instinct was always to kick and splash my arms around as rapidly as possible to stop from sinking like a stone. Having more confidence in my ability to float and taking time with the strokes means I get less tired and creates more space to breathe. I know I can slow it down even more and really focus on technique. It is this improvement potential that I can see ahead of me that gives me the motivation to keep going back to the pool.
It can be frustrating when I see other swimmers doing so much better than me but I have to keep stopping to remember where I came from. Before I started a week or so ago, I could barely manage one length. Now, I am not even bothering to count the lengths.
I'm still not sure how I feel about actually doing the triathlon. At the moment I have the luxury of sharing the pool with a handful of other swimmers. For the eight lengths of the triathlon I will almost certainly have the kicking legs of other contenders in close proximity. I am trying very hard not to worry about that right now!
If nothing else, all this swimming is bound to have a positive impact on my running. Unfortunately, the only thing that will have a positive impact on the swimming, is MORE swimming. I better get myself back down to the pool!
Tuesday, 23 September 2014
The Sandman Triathlon
On Sunday, the sun shone and I was at the seaside.
This was no ordinary trip to the seaside though. I was there to support my husband as he took part in his first Sandman Triathlon which started and finished on the beautiful Llanddwyn beach in Anglesey.
My two little ones were with us but once they saw the sand and the water, any thoughts of supporting daddy were quickly forgotten. It made it quite a difficult day for me trying to balance keeping an eye out for two adventurous children having the time of their lives and keeping an eye out for my husband so I could offer the appropriate words of encouragement. A difficult day - but one I was so glad to be a part of.
The first of my many 'difficulties' arose as I tried to walk the children the mile or so to the beach from the caravan where we were staying. It was a beautiful location with views over the Menai Straits and a stunning forest trail down to the beach. The same trail formed part of the 10K route that the triathletes would have to run having finished their 1000m sea swim off Llanddwyn beach and their 60km cycle around the island of Anglesey. The effort it took to drag my reluctant four year old son along the trail would probably have rivalled the effort put in by the athletes chasing personal bests. It was hard work and as a result, we were late getting to the start of the race. The good news was that the start time was delayed. The bad news, even with the delay, we still didn't make it down in time to wish daddy luck.
We were in time to see in the distance, the crowd of yellow swimming capped wetsuited hopefuls (of which I knew daddy was one) run into the sea and begin their arduous battle against waves, currents and fatigue.
My husband is a strong swimmer with a lazy stroke that could never be described as graceful but his long arms pull him through the water with efficiency. He has swum the Dee Mile and between the piers in Brighton. I didn't think the swim would pose too great a problem for him so I was very surprised when I saw him staggering clumsily out of the water looking as though he was in trouble. I found out later that he had been kicked in the face near the start when everyone is jostling for position. As well as being slightly stunned by the blow, the impact had knocked his prescription goggles off his head. Not being able to see properly was disorientating him.
Meanwhile, my son found out what happens when the tide creeps in and you fail to step backwards.
Somehow, my husband made it to his bicycle but clearly wasn't quite recovered form his ordeal as he tried to cycle off in his wetsuit! I would have loved to have been there to witness this but I was having a troublesome time trying to persuade my children to come with me to the transition area. We eventually got there but not in time to even see him riding away up the hill into the distance. We clapped a few of the other participants then went for a picnic that included for me, a very welcome flask of coffee.
The children were happy blowing bubbles, playing sword fighting with inflatables and running around so we stayed near the entrance to the transition area and waited for daddy to cycle in.
He had estimated that the cycle would take him 2 hours and he did it in 2:10:57. I mentioned at the very beginning of this post that the sun shone. This was his undoing. As much as the children and I were enjoying the sunshine, overheating and dehydration are deadly enemies of anyone exerting themselves. My husband ran out of water and began to suffer the consequences. His cheery wave to us as he ran into transition belied how bad he was feeling.
As much as I would have liked to position myself in various strategic locations along the 10K route, I knew it would turn into a nightmare trying to mobilise the children to make it all work so we headed back down to the beach. After a quick paddle myself which was lovely, I left the kids playing in a large pool and made myself a base further up the beach where I could watch for my husband on the last leg of his race.
The kids loved the freedom to play in the water making 'adventure playgrounds' out of rocks for the little fish that swam around them. This left me free to watch drama after drama unfold within sight of the finish line as exhausted runners feared they were not going to make it. I would have loved to have seen the jubilation of the people crossing the finish line, but that would have meant I couldn't keep a watchful eye on my little ones.
I expected my husband to finish in about an hour. I thought I spotted him once and called the children out of the water to come and cheer for daddy. They both looked at me like I was an idiot and said No Thanks! It turned out to be a false alarm anyway so I watched and waited... and waited. I was starting to get really worried but eventually, I spotted him in the distance. As he ran past me I took a photo, told him enthusiastically that he was wonderful and he was nearly there. I watched him run away from me toward the finish line and his own personal (somewhat overdue by now!) victory.
My camera was not zoomed in. I really was this close to him yet he neither saw me nor heard those words of encouragement that I had waited so long to give.
I persuaded the children to leave the water to come with me and find daddy. We found him. I have never seen him look so utterly exhausted. It had taken him 1 hour and 27 minutes to complete the 10K. He never really recovered from the dehydration he suffered on the bike leg of the race and had walked much of the route as an alternative to just giving up.
I have so much admiration to each and every one of the determined men and women who took part, from the awe inspiring winner who clocked up a time of less than two and a half hours to the last man over the line in 451st place in just over 5 hours.
My husband finished in 421st place with a time of 4 hours 09 minutes and 18 seconds. He is absolutely my hero.
This was no ordinary trip to the seaside though. I was there to support my husband as he took part in his first Sandman Triathlon which started and finished on the beautiful Llanddwyn beach in Anglesey.
My two little ones were with us but once they saw the sand and the water, any thoughts of supporting daddy were quickly forgotten. It made it quite a difficult day for me trying to balance keeping an eye out for two adventurous children having the time of their lives and keeping an eye out for my husband so I could offer the appropriate words of encouragement. A difficult day - but one I was so glad to be a part of.
The first of my many 'difficulties' arose as I tried to walk the children the mile or so to the beach from the caravan where we were staying. It was a beautiful location with views over the Menai Straits and a stunning forest trail down to the beach. The same trail formed part of the 10K route that the triathletes would have to run having finished their 1000m sea swim off Llanddwyn beach and their 60km cycle around the island of Anglesey. The effort it took to drag my reluctant four year old son along the trail would probably have rivalled the effort put in by the athletes chasing personal bests. It was hard work and as a result, we were late getting to the start of the race. The good news was that the start time was delayed. The bad news, even with the delay, we still didn't make it down in time to wish daddy luck.
We were in time to see in the distance, the crowd of yellow swimming capped wetsuited hopefuls (of which I knew daddy was one) run into the sea and begin their arduous battle against waves, currents and fatigue.
My husband is a strong swimmer with a lazy stroke that could never be described as graceful but his long arms pull him through the water with efficiency. He has swum the Dee Mile and between the piers in Brighton. I didn't think the swim would pose too great a problem for him so I was very surprised when I saw him staggering clumsily out of the water looking as though he was in trouble. I found out later that he had been kicked in the face near the start when everyone is jostling for position. As well as being slightly stunned by the blow, the impact had knocked his prescription goggles off his head. Not being able to see properly was disorientating him.
Meanwhile, my son found out what happens when the tide creeps in and you fail to step backwards.
Somehow, my husband made it to his bicycle but clearly wasn't quite recovered form his ordeal as he tried to cycle off in his wetsuit! I would have loved to have been there to witness this but I was having a troublesome time trying to persuade my children to come with me to the transition area. We eventually got there but not in time to even see him riding away up the hill into the distance. We clapped a few of the other participants then went for a picnic that included for me, a very welcome flask of coffee.
The children were happy blowing bubbles, playing sword fighting with inflatables and running around so we stayed near the entrance to the transition area and waited for daddy to cycle in.
He had estimated that the cycle would take him 2 hours and he did it in 2:10:57. I mentioned at the very beginning of this post that the sun shone. This was his undoing. As much as the children and I were enjoying the sunshine, overheating and dehydration are deadly enemies of anyone exerting themselves. My husband ran out of water and began to suffer the consequences. His cheery wave to us as he ran into transition belied how bad he was feeling.
As much as I would have liked to position myself in various strategic locations along the 10K route, I knew it would turn into a nightmare trying to mobilise the children to make it all work so we headed back down to the beach. After a quick paddle myself which was lovely, I left the kids playing in a large pool and made myself a base further up the beach where I could watch for my husband on the last leg of his race.
The kids loved the freedom to play in the water making 'adventure playgrounds' out of rocks for the little fish that swam around them. This left me free to watch drama after drama unfold within sight of the finish line as exhausted runners feared they were not going to make it. I would have loved to have seen the jubilation of the people crossing the finish line, but that would have meant I couldn't keep a watchful eye on my little ones.
I expected my husband to finish in about an hour. I thought I spotted him once and called the children out of the water to come and cheer for daddy. They both looked at me like I was an idiot and said No Thanks! It turned out to be a false alarm anyway so I watched and waited... and waited. I was starting to get really worried but eventually, I spotted him in the distance. As he ran past me I took a photo, told him enthusiastically that he was wonderful and he was nearly there. I watched him run away from me toward the finish line and his own personal (somewhat overdue by now!) victory.
My camera was not zoomed in. I really was this close to him yet he neither saw me nor heard those words of encouragement that I had waited so long to give.
I persuaded the children to leave the water to come with me and find daddy. We found him. I have never seen him look so utterly exhausted. It had taken him 1 hour and 27 minutes to complete the 10K. He never really recovered from the dehydration he suffered on the bike leg of the race and had walked much of the route as an alternative to just giving up.
I have so much admiration to each and every one of the determined men and women who took part, from the awe inspiring winner who clocked up a time of less than two and a half hours to the last man over the line in 451st place in just over 5 hours.
My husband finished in 421st place with a time of 4 hours 09 minutes and 18 seconds. He is absolutely my hero.
Monday, 3 June 2013
A Sporty End to Half Term
I was sad yesterday that half term was coming to an end - until my husband reminded me that I should never be sad that our life is moving on because we have so much to look forward to and enjoy. He was right.
It was a really good half term week.
Two of my girls spent some time away in Portugal with their father. I missed them but I am so glad that they are getting to experience things that I can't offer them - expensive hotels, free flowing champagne and designer clothes shopping.
My time was spent in a way very far removed from that sort of lifestyle - gardening gloves, a trowel, a bucket for my weeds and barbecued veggie sausages and burgers - but I loved it. The garden is looking better than it ever has and it has been so nice to have a bit of good weather to really appreciate it.
On Thursday night, I made sure that there was no trace of mud under my nails and got dressed up to go out for a meal with my husband. For my birthday back in April, my daughter Ivy gave me a gift voucher for a meal at the gastro pub she works in. This was the first opportunity we'd had to take advantage of that. My eldest daughter came round to babysit the little ones and her boyfriend, a retained firefighter, offered to be our taxi so that we could both have a drink. Unfortunately, as we were due to leave, his alerter sounded which meant someone somewhere had a fire that needed extinguishing. Obviously this had a higher priority than our lift so we made our own way to the pub. The fire emergency turned out to be two bins ablaze. Easily dealt with - no casualties! Despite being restricted with our alcohol intake, we had a lovely evening with amazing food: Mushroom and Shropshire Blue Cheese Wellington with Spring Onion Mash, French Beans and Béchamel sauce followed by Hot Chocolate Brownie with Raspberry Coulis and Vanilla Ice-cream. My mouth is watering at the memory.
I was up early on Saturday morning to take part in my local Parkrun. This has become something of a habit now and I can't recommend it enough. A record breaking 204 runners took part (although I believe one of those may have been a dog that should never have been registered!) My husband took on a marshalling role. I wasn't sure how I would feel having to run past him; red faced, sweaty and possibly struggling badly. I always want him to see me as a lithe athlete (a me that only really exists in my dreams). My worries were unfounded. His cheery smile and words of encouragement were lovely and I believed him when he said he was proud of me.
It was a really good half term week.
Two of my girls spent some time away in Portugal with their father. I missed them but I am so glad that they are getting to experience things that I can't offer them - expensive hotels, free flowing champagne and designer clothes shopping.
My time was spent in a way very far removed from that sort of lifestyle - gardening gloves, a trowel, a bucket for my weeds and barbecued veggie sausages and burgers - but I loved it. The garden is looking better than it ever has and it has been so nice to have a bit of good weather to really appreciate it.
On Thursday night, I made sure that there was no trace of mud under my nails and got dressed up to go out for a meal with my husband. For my birthday back in April, my daughter Ivy gave me a gift voucher for a meal at the gastro pub she works in. This was the first opportunity we'd had to take advantage of that. My eldest daughter came round to babysit the little ones and her boyfriend, a retained firefighter, offered to be our taxi so that we could both have a drink. Unfortunately, as we were due to leave, his alerter sounded which meant someone somewhere had a fire that needed extinguishing. Obviously this had a higher priority than our lift so we made our own way to the pub. The fire emergency turned out to be two bins ablaze. Easily dealt with - no casualties! Despite being restricted with our alcohol intake, we had a lovely evening with amazing food: Mushroom and Shropshire Blue Cheese Wellington with Spring Onion Mash, French Beans and Béchamel sauce followed by Hot Chocolate Brownie with Raspberry Coulis and Vanilla Ice-cream. My mouth is watering at the memory.
I was up early on Saturday morning to take part in my local Parkrun. This has become something of a habit now and I can't recommend it enough. A record breaking 204 runners took part (although I believe one of those may have been a dog that should never have been registered!) My husband took on a marshalling role. I wasn't sure how I would feel having to run past him; red faced, sweaty and possibly struggling badly. I always want him to see me as a lithe athlete (a me that only really exists in my dreams). My worries were unfounded. His cheery smile and words of encouragement were lovely and I believed him when he said he was proud of me.
 |
| Photograph taken by a Parkrun Volunteer |
The following day, I had the opportunity to show him the same support he'd shown me as he took part in the Cheshire Sprint Triathlon.
It was a very well organised event and the weather was kind making it a pleasure to be a spectator. I have my personal goal when it comes to running (to complete 5K in less than 30minutes) and he has his: to complete the Triathlon in the time it would take the Brownlee brothers to do it one after the other. He completed the 400m swim (in an open air brine pool), 23K bike ride and 5K run in 1hour and 27minutes. I did a quick Google search to try and calculate the combined Brownlee bros time - but failed! Regardless of whether or not he succeeded in his goal, he did an amazing race and I am a little bit in awe of his accomplishment.
The little ones had a great time, mostly because there was a playground for them to explore but they also got behind the whole 'cheering for daddy' thing. It was very sweet hearing them both shouting "Run faster daddy" and "You can win daddy". His actual position was about halfway down the field of runners but as he crossed the Finish Line, Addy shouted excitedly, "I knew it - Daddy winned!!" She proudly wore his finishers medal for a while and to all of us who love him, he is definitely a winner and an inspiration.
Addy had now decided that she wants to do a Junior triathlon when she is seven. That gives us two years to get the stabilisers off her bike and lose the arm bands!
Monday, 1 October 2012
A cabbage, goat and wolf problem
Do you know the puzzle about a farmer with a cabbage, a goat and a wolf that he needs to get across a river? Unfortunately for the farmer, his boat is only big enough for himself and one other of his commodities for any particular crossing. His problem lies with the fact that if he leaves the goat unattended with the cabbage, the goat would eat the cabbage and likewise the wolf and goat left together would result in bloody carnage and a self-satisfied wolf licking his lips. The farmer has to devise a solution whereby the unfavourable combinations do not occur and his cargo arrives on the opposite riverbank intact. It takes a bit of juggling but it can be done.
My weekend was very much like this.
Obviously there were no actual wolves, cabbages, goats, farmers, boats or rivers involved but what I did have was one daughter (Taylor) that needed to be settled into her new room at University, a car load of belongings that needed to be moved into said room, a boyfriend (George) that wanted to see off his student girlfriend and make sure she was OK, two under fives that create a certain amount of chaos whatever is happening, one husband and (unofficial) son in law taking part in a Triathlon half an hour away from the University, sports gear and two bikes needing to be in place for the Triathlon transitions and another daughter (Liberty) wanting to support her sporty man at the same time as marking homework and planning her next week's lessons. Thankfully, the presence of this daughter and her boyfriend meant that we had a second car to relieve the burden on mine but two cars to park in a) the multi storey car park from hell and b) the insanely busy sports centre that was the starting and finishing point for the triathlon, did present a whole extra problematic layer.
Originally, the plan had been to settle Taylor into Uni life on the Saturday, stay overnight at a Travelodge in Coventry and dedicate Sunday to the Triathlon. As is often the way with plans, this did not happen. Registration and room allocation at the University was split into two groups depending on where your surname fell alphabetically and being a "V" meant that Taylor was a Sunday arrival. Now we could have called the University, explained the situation and asked to be admitted on the Saturday, but with Taylor already being quite anxious about the whole leaving home thing, I didn't want to put her in a position where she would feel singled out and different. She was my top priority. We decided to stick with her allocated day and fit the Triathlon around it.
But being in two places at the same time is one of those useful tricks that I am still trying to master!
We stuck with the plan to travel up on the Saturday for what was supposed to be a leisurely drive to the Travelodge that we had already booked. 'Leisurely' quickly turned into stressful when the sat nav was no help whatsoever in central Coventry. I had volunteered to drive to give my husband a chance to relax before his imminent athletic endeavours. I did not cope well with the unfamiliar traffic systems, dodgy junctions and a complete lack of knowledge as to where I was supposed to be going. When I found myself, quite by accident, in car park - I stayed there (at least until my panic started to subside). My husband went off on foot to locate the Travelodge and he drove the rest of way through town to our destination.
We had to unload most of the car contents for security reasons. Luckily, one of the rooms that we had booked was larger than the others. There was plenty of space for the suitcases, boxes and two racing bicycles. Less than luckily, was the state George's trousers were in after manhandling two racing bicycles up three flights of stairs and into the room. I really hope that his mum's washing machine and detergent can handle oil stains.
There was a fantastic looking Primark opposite the hotel. I really wanted to browse the three well lit levels of reasonably priced fashion items for some retail therapy but it was closed for business by the time we were together enough to have taken advantage of the consumer paradise, and would be leaving before they reopened the following day. Shame.
Finding somewhere suitable for all of us to eat on a busy Saturday night proved nearly impossible, even with the aid of phone Apps that should have made it simple. We ended up in one of the nicest Wetherspoons I'd ever seen but despite the architectural elegance of their exterior, they were unable to provide me with a veggie burger and came close to not serving us at all because they were unexpectedly busy, short staffed and running out of clean plates!
Sometimes, when stress and disappointment piles on so thick, you start to feel a strange sense of elation - that you are a survivor and whatever life throws at you... you will triumph. I was getting to that point. Beer helped. Chocolate helped further.
Back at the hotel room, my husband and I watched X Factor in bed while trying to persuade an overexcited two year old that sleep is best. The rest of our party congregated in the largest room amongst the luggage and cycles for a slightly surreal round of the Pointless board game.
Our plan for the next day was to drop Taylor and George off at the University with Taylor's things first thing then speed off to Stratford for the triathlon registration and prepare for the race. As I lay in bed, unable to sleep and going through this in my mind, I realised that it could not possibly work. We would not be able to physically accomplish this within the time constraints. In the morning, I announced a change of plan that seemed to work better.
After a quick croissant breakfast, we used our best logical approach and working together to bring the cars outside the hotel, reload them with everything and check out. Not as simple as it sounds when the code number needed to get out of the car park didn't work, causing Liberty's boyfriend to engage in increasingly heated conversations with an unhelpful car park attendant at the other end of a tinny intercom. The bikes came down one by one in the lift with minimal oil soiling and just as it seemed we were ready to go, my little Addy announced she needed a poo. The hotel toilet needed a key card (which we had already posted in the slot on the reception desk in the absence of staff manning it). A lovely hotel guest came to our rescue, averting certain disaster by lending us her key.
Both cars set off together with sat navs programmed for the start of the Triathlon. I should have known not to rely on sat navs alone. It wasn't long before we reached a road that was not recognised. As far as the sat nav was concerned, we were in the middle of a field. We found ourselves in the dangerous situation of two cars following each other, neither knowing which way to go. After what could have been a rather nasty incident with a bus - we got back on track. The route to the sports centre was the same as the cycle route for the triathlon so we got a taste of what our men had in store for them as we passed cyclist after cyclist, race numbers flapping in the wind, powering their way up a long steep hill.
The sports centre was insanely busy but with over 1000 athletes taking part in the race, that was not surprising. A friendly traffic warden (thank God he was a friendly one) allowed me a bit of leeway to park in a coach space while we unloaded the bikes and other gear. We had one near disaster when George used D locks to secure the bikes to a lamppost only to learn that the whereabouts of the keys to open the locks was unknown. Keys located - panic over. Sensible Liberty headed off to a cafe to do her marking and planning and I left our slightly bemused competitors to work out where they had to go and what they had to do while I headed back the way we had just come towards the University with Taylor, George and my little ones.
After my bad driving experience the day before, I was feeling a little anxious but with George up front telling me where to go in his lovely calm voice, I soon relaxed.
The University had done a good job with signposting and we were lead through coned off lanes towards a short stay car park for unloading. I was doing really well until the very last little bit where I did actually hit a cone and sent it flying.
One good thing about the stress and the madness and the destruction of innocent orange traffic cones was that it had all been a distraction for Taylor from her own anxiety about leaving home. She simply hadn't had time to think about her own personal worries! Now we were here and this was it.
I was so glad that George was with us. He straight away suggested that they go and get her keys and gave Taylor the confidence she needed to do everything she had to do. Not only this but he also brought me a cup of coffee while I waited at the car with the little ones. I really needed that coffee!
They found her room (which would be on the top floor!) and we made a start with the unloading.
Her room was lovely. Clean and bright and well equipped. The little ones were happy to try out her desk with drawing activities while George and I carried everything up the (never ending!) flights of stairs. Taylor unpacked and made her room a home. Our 30 minute allotted unloading time turned into more like an hour but after seeing what I did to their traffic cone, I don't think anyone was going to challenge me on it!
Eventually, I left George and Taylor to get on with it and took the little ones back with me to try and catch the start of our Triathlon category. It was touch and go whether I'd get there in time and far more worryingly was the problem of finding a parking space. I resorted to using my old parking mantra (hadn't done this in years) - Gracious Goddess show your face, lead me to a parking space. The Goddess certainly was gracious. I found a space big enough for me to manoeuvre into (just about). After a bit of a tussle with the Pay and Display machine (life really never is easy, is it?) I was eventually fighting my way through the crowds with a buggy that has seen better days and refuses to go the direction you want it to. Miraculously, I spotted Liberty in a good viewing position to see the exit from the swimming pool and transition onto bikes. I'd made it. Within a few minutes, there was Liberty's boyfriend running to his bike, mounting and zooming away on the next leg of the race. My husband was not too far behind. We cheered. We watched them disappear out of sight then we went to the cafe for a well earned lunch.
The fourteen mile bicycle road race was due to take about an hour so we made sure we were well positioned at the finish line in good time to cheer our men onwards. I spotted my lycra clad hero from quite a way off and gave him a cheer. Such was his concentration, I 'm not sure he even registered my presence but Liberty and I were rewarded with a big cheesy grin when her boyfriend crossed the line a few minutes later.
It did actually make me feel quite emotional to see them doing so well. Not for the last time this weekend, I felt that telltale throat tightness and blinked away an escaping tear.
We were there at the final finishing line as well to witness their victorious ending. My husband is not really built for running. He did look ungainly as he lumbered over the line but he finished the whole thing in 1hr and 12 minutes and came 15th in his category (which I think was a group of about 50 competitors). Liberty's boyfriend looked amazingly fit as his long strides carried him over the finish (shoelace undone!) a few minutes later. They both did so well and I am incredibly proud of them.
All that was left to do then (after showering, changing and reloading the bikes) was to return to the University, pick up the boxes and suitcases that Taylor didn't need, say goodbye and take George back home. I picked up a bit of shopping for her on the way. I think half of the new students and their parents must have had the same idea because the shop was heaving with young people looking excited and terrified in equal measures with their parents worrying how their babies would cope with this new found independence and remember to eat properly.
With it being much later in the day, the busy registration period at the University was all but over. The traffic cones had been removed. I parked without incident and went up to see how my baby was doing. She had met some people already and had a look around the freshers fair with George. He was happy to have been mistaken for a fresher and collected freebies which he delighted in showing us.
The moment we had all been dreading was looming ominously. The time to say goodbye. I expected tears but little Taylor sobbed. I am getting a lump in my throat now just thinking about it. We hugged and cried and laughed and cried some more. Walking away was hard but I knew that the sooner we did it, the sooner she would regain control, venture out and start making friends and having fun. We left George to say his final goodbye.
I was glad that the driving responsibility fell on me. It meant that I could not give in to my tattered emotions. I concentrated on getting us home safely and by the time we did, Taylor was socialising in the shared kitchen with her neighbours. She has an amazing adventure ahead of her and although we will miss her like crazy, she is exactly where she needs to be.
It was a long and difficult weekend but one full of achievement. I feel very relieved that I got my cabbage, my goat and my wolf safely across the river.
My weekend was very much like this.
Obviously there were no actual wolves, cabbages, goats, farmers, boats or rivers involved but what I did have was one daughter (Taylor) that needed to be settled into her new room at University, a car load of belongings that needed to be moved into said room, a boyfriend (George) that wanted to see off his student girlfriend and make sure she was OK, two under fives that create a certain amount of chaos whatever is happening, one husband and (unofficial) son in law taking part in a Triathlon half an hour away from the University, sports gear and two bikes needing to be in place for the Triathlon transitions and another daughter (Liberty) wanting to support her sporty man at the same time as marking homework and planning her next week's lessons. Thankfully, the presence of this daughter and her boyfriend meant that we had a second car to relieve the burden on mine but two cars to park in a) the multi storey car park from hell and b) the insanely busy sports centre that was the starting and finishing point for the triathlon, did present a whole extra problematic layer.
Originally, the plan had been to settle Taylor into Uni life on the Saturday, stay overnight at a Travelodge in Coventry and dedicate Sunday to the Triathlon. As is often the way with plans, this did not happen. Registration and room allocation at the University was split into two groups depending on where your surname fell alphabetically and being a "V" meant that Taylor was a Sunday arrival. Now we could have called the University, explained the situation and asked to be admitted on the Saturday, but with Taylor already being quite anxious about the whole leaving home thing, I didn't want to put her in a position where she would feel singled out and different. She was my top priority. We decided to stick with her allocated day and fit the Triathlon around it.
But being in two places at the same time is one of those useful tricks that I am still trying to master!
We stuck with the plan to travel up on the Saturday for what was supposed to be a leisurely drive to the Travelodge that we had already booked. 'Leisurely' quickly turned into stressful when the sat nav was no help whatsoever in central Coventry. I had volunteered to drive to give my husband a chance to relax before his imminent athletic endeavours. I did not cope well with the unfamiliar traffic systems, dodgy junctions and a complete lack of knowledge as to where I was supposed to be going. When I found myself, quite by accident, in car park - I stayed there (at least until my panic started to subside). My husband went off on foot to locate the Travelodge and he drove the rest of way through town to our destination.
We had to unload most of the car contents for security reasons. Luckily, one of the rooms that we had booked was larger than the others. There was plenty of space for the suitcases, boxes and two racing bicycles. Less than luckily, was the state George's trousers were in after manhandling two racing bicycles up three flights of stairs and into the room. I really hope that his mum's washing machine and detergent can handle oil stains.
There was a fantastic looking Primark opposite the hotel. I really wanted to browse the three well lit levels of reasonably priced fashion items for some retail therapy but it was closed for business by the time we were together enough to have taken advantage of the consumer paradise, and would be leaving before they reopened the following day. Shame.
Finding somewhere suitable for all of us to eat on a busy Saturday night proved nearly impossible, even with the aid of phone Apps that should have made it simple. We ended up in one of the nicest Wetherspoons I'd ever seen but despite the architectural elegance of their exterior, they were unable to provide me with a veggie burger and came close to not serving us at all because they were unexpectedly busy, short staffed and running out of clean plates!
Sometimes, when stress and disappointment piles on so thick, you start to feel a strange sense of elation - that you are a survivor and whatever life throws at you... you will triumph. I was getting to that point. Beer helped. Chocolate helped further.
Back at the hotel room, my husband and I watched X Factor in bed while trying to persuade an overexcited two year old that sleep is best. The rest of our party congregated in the largest room amongst the luggage and cycles for a slightly surreal round of the Pointless board game.
Our plan for the next day was to drop Taylor and George off at the University with Taylor's things first thing then speed off to Stratford for the triathlon registration and prepare for the race. As I lay in bed, unable to sleep and going through this in my mind, I realised that it could not possibly work. We would not be able to physically accomplish this within the time constraints. In the morning, I announced a change of plan that seemed to work better.
After a quick croissant breakfast, we used our best logical approach and working together to bring the cars outside the hotel, reload them with everything and check out. Not as simple as it sounds when the code number needed to get out of the car park didn't work, causing Liberty's boyfriend to engage in increasingly heated conversations with an unhelpful car park attendant at the other end of a tinny intercom. The bikes came down one by one in the lift with minimal oil soiling and just as it seemed we were ready to go, my little Addy announced she needed a poo. The hotel toilet needed a key card (which we had already posted in the slot on the reception desk in the absence of staff manning it). A lovely hotel guest came to our rescue, averting certain disaster by lending us her key.
Both cars set off together with sat navs programmed for the start of the Triathlon. I should have known not to rely on sat navs alone. It wasn't long before we reached a road that was not recognised. As far as the sat nav was concerned, we were in the middle of a field. We found ourselves in the dangerous situation of two cars following each other, neither knowing which way to go. After what could have been a rather nasty incident with a bus - we got back on track. The route to the sports centre was the same as the cycle route for the triathlon so we got a taste of what our men had in store for them as we passed cyclist after cyclist, race numbers flapping in the wind, powering their way up a long steep hill.
The sports centre was insanely busy but with over 1000 athletes taking part in the race, that was not surprising. A friendly traffic warden (thank God he was a friendly one) allowed me a bit of leeway to park in a coach space while we unloaded the bikes and other gear. We had one near disaster when George used D locks to secure the bikes to a lamppost only to learn that the whereabouts of the keys to open the locks was unknown. Keys located - panic over. Sensible Liberty headed off to a cafe to do her marking and planning and I left our slightly bemused competitors to work out where they had to go and what they had to do while I headed back the way we had just come towards the University with Taylor, George and my little ones.
After my bad driving experience the day before, I was feeling a little anxious but with George up front telling me where to go in his lovely calm voice, I soon relaxed.
The University had done a good job with signposting and we were lead through coned off lanes towards a short stay car park for unloading. I was doing really well until the very last little bit where I did actually hit a cone and sent it flying.
One good thing about the stress and the madness and the destruction of innocent orange traffic cones was that it had all been a distraction for Taylor from her own anxiety about leaving home. She simply hadn't had time to think about her own personal worries! Now we were here and this was it.
I was so glad that George was with us. He straight away suggested that they go and get her keys and gave Taylor the confidence she needed to do everything she had to do. Not only this but he also brought me a cup of coffee while I waited at the car with the little ones. I really needed that coffee!
They found her room (which would be on the top floor!) and we made a start with the unloading.
Her room was lovely. Clean and bright and well equipped. The little ones were happy to try out her desk with drawing activities while George and I carried everything up the (never ending!) flights of stairs. Taylor unpacked and made her room a home. Our 30 minute allotted unloading time turned into more like an hour but after seeing what I did to their traffic cone, I don't think anyone was going to challenge me on it!
Eventually, I left George and Taylor to get on with it and took the little ones back with me to try and catch the start of our Triathlon category. It was touch and go whether I'd get there in time and far more worryingly was the problem of finding a parking space. I resorted to using my old parking mantra (hadn't done this in years) - Gracious Goddess show your face, lead me to a parking space. The Goddess certainly was gracious. I found a space big enough for me to manoeuvre into (just about). After a bit of a tussle with the Pay and Display machine (life really never is easy, is it?) I was eventually fighting my way through the crowds with a buggy that has seen better days and refuses to go the direction you want it to. Miraculously, I spotted Liberty in a good viewing position to see the exit from the swimming pool and transition onto bikes. I'd made it. Within a few minutes, there was Liberty's boyfriend running to his bike, mounting and zooming away on the next leg of the race. My husband was not too far behind. We cheered. We watched them disappear out of sight then we went to the cafe for a well earned lunch.
The fourteen mile bicycle road race was due to take about an hour so we made sure we were well positioned at the finish line in good time to cheer our men onwards. I spotted my lycra clad hero from quite a way off and gave him a cheer. Such was his concentration, I 'm not sure he even registered my presence but Liberty and I were rewarded with a big cheesy grin when her boyfriend crossed the line a few minutes later.
It did actually make me feel quite emotional to see them doing so well. Not for the last time this weekend, I felt that telltale throat tightness and blinked away an escaping tear.
We were there at the final finishing line as well to witness their victorious ending. My husband is not really built for running. He did look ungainly as he lumbered over the line but he finished the whole thing in 1hr and 12 minutes and came 15th in his category (which I think was a group of about 50 competitors). Liberty's boyfriend looked amazingly fit as his long strides carried him over the finish (shoelace undone!) a few minutes later. They both did so well and I am incredibly proud of them.
All that was left to do then (after showering, changing and reloading the bikes) was to return to the University, pick up the boxes and suitcases that Taylor didn't need, say goodbye and take George back home. I picked up a bit of shopping for her on the way. I think half of the new students and their parents must have had the same idea because the shop was heaving with young people looking excited and terrified in equal measures with their parents worrying how their babies would cope with this new found independence and remember to eat properly.
With it being much later in the day, the busy registration period at the University was all but over. The traffic cones had been removed. I parked without incident and went up to see how my baby was doing. She had met some people already and had a look around the freshers fair with George. He was happy to have been mistaken for a fresher and collected freebies which he delighted in showing us.
The moment we had all been dreading was looming ominously. The time to say goodbye. I expected tears but little Taylor sobbed. I am getting a lump in my throat now just thinking about it. We hugged and cried and laughed and cried some more. Walking away was hard but I knew that the sooner we did it, the sooner she would regain control, venture out and start making friends and having fun. We left George to say his final goodbye.
I was glad that the driving responsibility fell on me. It meant that I could not give in to my tattered emotions. I concentrated on getting us home safely and by the time we did, Taylor was socialising in the shared kitchen with her neighbours. She has an amazing adventure ahead of her and although we will miss her like crazy, she is exactly where she needs to be.
It was a long and difficult weekend but one full of achievement. I feel very relieved that I got my cabbage, my goat and my wolf safely across the river.
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