So 2 months on, and I’ve battled away, getting my strength stronger, my speed quicker, and my inner fighter back on top. Bleinheim palace awas the next national super series round, where I could make an impact on the international stage, swimming on the feet, riding on the wheels, and running on the heels of the best of british athletes.
It was in my 80 seater public jet, with BA, I hopped over the water to London to hit the race. Travel fraught with, well actually nothing, travel was perfect, stayed with a mate, had healthy BBQ, and then hit damn M25 to get the hell out of the worlds capital. No traffic, beautiful weather, no excuses.
Driving in to the grounds of the amazing Blenheim palace, spotted the likes of Mark Buckingham, these guys giving you the lift of the butterflies in your stomach, and the building of the proverbial “brick” in your pants.
Race start 9.25. Quick swim warm up. School boy error. Now I’m 3rd row, too far back, probably 50 swimmers back. What a muppet. This is the kind of mistake the pro’s don’t make! The brick just got bigger.
The claxon goes, but I’m a strong swimmer, I know I am, I can take 20 of these neoprene clad wannabes and pull myself up to 20th…….ish. So I do. And I feel good, get in a rythmn, swim over a couple of people, not maliciously, and find my place in the washing machine of feet and hands, claws and nails, handbags and nail varnish. I came out 13th in the water. Pretty good considering how much nail varnish was getting thrown around.
Out the swim, the suit came off nice from the top, then with the shocking realisation I hadn’t put any oil on the legs, the suit came off with a little bit of hesitation. Another rookie error. Straight into the bike, shoes flew on, and I was in the front group (or at least thought I was), until I realised there was 6 athletic specimens actually up the road from us!
Our group smashed through and worked nicely like a well oiled festina team from the 90’s (I’m not event sure I understand that but aparantly its funny). A few attacks tried to get away, nothing stuck, apart from the original 6, who made no real progess above 20 seconds thought the ride. Once again the ORRO gold from boys at Big Maggy’s performed beyond expectation.
T2. Well. What can I say. I’m a freakin ledge. If fairway were wondering why the hell they were givin me all this money for me to race around the world, and try and make me an ineternational superstar, all they need to do is look at my T2.
The run…. My favourite
I went out like the clappers running with some of the best athletes in the country. Unlike all good stories this one doesn’t end well. Come lap 2 I went backwards… the legs went pop. It was like a reincarnation of that scene from the exorcist, when her head spins round on her body and her tongue is out and its all a bit weird and no one really knows what is going on. Finished 13th under 23, and 17th overall. To be improved on……
Next stop, the French Alps. A trip with some of the boys from Jersey and the lads and sponsors from Big Maggys, to drag each other around some major tour climbs, swim some pristine lakes and run some ancient goat trails. And maybe, just maybe, reward myself with a beer or 2 at the end of the week of hard training.