Cirencester Duathlon Feb 17th 2008.
You could say that this event started when my Sri Chinmoy Cycling Team colleague Roger brought it to my attention in late 2007. It involved running two miles along countryside trails, followed by ten miles of mountain biking and then two more miles of running. Organised so that the different sections followed each other consecutively, the race had the feel of a triathlon less the swimming. I foolishly believed that I would be in good enough shape from a winter of cyclo cross racing to put in a respectable performance. All I had to do was increase my running training from 'a little' to 'a bit more than a little' and I told myself that I would be fine.
My preferred tactic of getting an early night before race day didn't quite happen as I was still trying to get my 20 year old mountain bike working at midnight, the day before the race. At a certain point, with tiredness overtaking me, I resigned myself to not getting everthing perfect (I couldn't get half my gears) but at least the wheels were round and the brakes worked.
Sub-zero temperatures meant a little gentle coaxing was needed to get the car (and driver) going come race day, however, a radiator fault meant that the car was overheating despite driving very gingerly to the event...with time ticking away and the guage hovering in the red all the way, the venue proved mercifully easy to find without needing to call for assistance. One of the benefits of the dodgy radiator was that I had the heaters on full so I was beautifully warm for the race start.
As running is definitely not my strong point, I decided to set off steadily until my legs (and body) became accustomed to the effort. The start was heralded by a rather unusual noise not unlike an old war-time claxon. My interpretation of steady was not shared by many of my fellow competitors and I was quickly swamped from behind as people bounded off into the frosty morning leaving trails of breath like many little steam trains. After a while I wondered when my legs would become comfortable with the running and allow me to stretch out a bit. Unfortunately, that never actually happened and my cyclists' running style stayed with me throughout.
I was very impressed with the general good will in the bunch, a bit of good-humored banter and words of encouragement to friends and strangers alike. How different to a typical bike race I thought! At some point I realised that I was coming back to a section of the course that I recognised and had the sinking feeling that comes with the realisation that I had only completed one lap. 'That's a long mile' I thought to myself, looking at my watch, I wished I hadn't. I tried to encourage myself by reminding myself that all I had to do was hang on for another mile before I could transfer to my favourite discipline, the bike.
Through watching triathlons before, I was aware of the importance of changing quickly after one section before starting the next. As this event involved just running and cycling, I was running in my cycling clothes with trainers for the first section. For the bike, I changed my shoes for ones that clip onto special pedals and put on my helmet, which I would be glad of later. As I was so shattered from the running, I treated myself to a few leisurely gulps of sports drink before setting out on my bike.
Cycling out of the transition area was such a nice feeling for me, my legs were no longer struggling to maintain a stifled plod but could spin round lightly with an ease of movement that had me passing people continually. The course started as hard frost but changed through the race as the winter sun and the action of many bike tyres loosened and melted a top film of mud that proved trecherous to many. People were bouncing around one minute as the substructure of the ground remained hard and frozen before sliding uncontrollably when they hit a patch of the soft stuff.
Having some mechanical trouble in the first lap of the bike section, I was determined to make my second lap better (ie faster). I even wondered how far ahead Roger was and if I would see him. Unfortunately, while flying down one section of the course I hit a patch of softer ground and my front wheel took a different course than the one I was planning on taking. First of all I remember going sideways, then down then up and finally, thump! landing square on my head looking at a muddy field the wrong way up.
It's funny how things work when you're down. I knew I'd hit my head pretty hard as I felt the force travel down my kneck. I also felt pretty winded and a little sore. But my immediate thought was to clear the track for other riders behind me. I needn't have worried too much. It seemed like every other person was doing the same as me and doing a spot of soil sampling when they should have been riding. I was touched by the number of people asking if I was alright. having reasurred them that I was, I watched them go careering off into the distance.
After remounting, the remainder of the bike section was thankfully uneventful. I had no more offs, but saw plenty. In fact, at one point the course was littered with riders who were not actually riding. Many were trying to encourage mud-clogged wheels to turn again, some were pushing and some were going home. The course deteriorated further as the race went on. Rocks and roots became exposed which were very bumpy in places, the mud got stickier and slippier and the grass sections offered competitors new ways to go sideways while trying to go forwards.
I had long since worried about my overall placing in the race. I knew I'd lost many places in the run, and had then gained back many on the bike section only to loose them again when I fell off. I lost even more when I couldn't un-jam my chain at one point and in a fit of rage threw my bike into a field. I only had to go and get it back and carry on. The final two mile run was tough although I encouraged myself by saying that I'd managed to keep going and not walk (although I came very close).
At the end, I met up with Roger who had already finished and was looking happy enough for both of us!. With the sun shining, it actually felt quite warm. We celebrated with a flask of hot tea and half an energy bar each, a perfect post-race picnic that kept us going before a 'team lunch' courtesy of a road-side service station. My initial reaction of 'never again' softened into an enquiry about when the next race would be...
