I’ve been eating humble pie for breakfast, dinner and tea since I started training.
I used to scorn low gear wobblers, put it in top gear and pedal you lazy bastards!
When I started training for my first Outlaw, on my first day, I did a 51 mile ride and a 13 mile run. A lifetime of bans and motorbike write-offs meant I had cycled everywhere for years.I thought that level of fitness was normal. So people who were making hard work of it needed to pull their finger out and do a bit.
Oh the humility.
I’ve found a decent route into work, it’s 9.1 mile each way. And it’s been battering me. I’ve only ridden in 2 days but I am ridiculously far away from ‘hop on and ride 51 miles’.
I took the car in to a body repair shop to have the wing fitted, pushbike in boot to ride home, and the mechanic was a tri guy. He took one look at my bike and told me to look at bike set-up tutorials on YouTube. I did. Seems I had it all set up wrong. I’ll try this, see if it’s any better.
I’m so unfit I’m not even doing a long run on the bike. I’m going to give it a month of riding to work to build up some semblance of fitness then start.
The “die tri-ing” thing was a bit of a moment. I was having persistent chest pains, smack over my heart. It wasn’t bad, that level of pain anywhere else wouldn’t have warranted a mention, but being there you have to worry. I was steering clear of ibuprofen as it has recently been linked to heart attacks. I Googled it to see if I should worry. “Survival rate outside of hospitals, 6%”. OK, that’s not ideal.
Warren Lang (school friend) said one of his RAF chaps had died of a heart attack whilst training for an Iron tri. One of the security guards at work, who looked fine, has just dropped dead of one.
I carried on training but was going to go to the doctor if it hadn’t cleared by Friday. Then on Thursday morning I was awoken by shooting pains in my left arm and pins and needles.
I really thought I was going to die, right then. I was not a happy bunny. It scared me. I was all “I don’t want to not be!”
I took a moment, “Can’t avoid it. At least I have been.”
I decided to concentrate on the dying bit and not worry about the rest.
I didn’t die, by the way. In case you were worried.
I hit Google again in the morning. “26 causes of chest pain that are not a heart attack.”
I had a read through, tons of stuff. The bit I took from it was “you can tear chest muscles from just a coughing fit… If, after taking anti-inflammatory drugs, the pain persists…”
I took some ibuprofen. Pain gone. I think the left arm thing was just some muscle spasms or something from my weaker arm (of two very weak arms) after the swim. But what are the odds?
Embarrassing, but as I said to Wendy, mild embarrassment is preferable to chronic death.
Today my ‘long’ run is 10 miles. As long as I manage that, then it should be really easy to gradually ramp up the mileage to my marathon in April. I say “easy”, I mean it is within the “no more than 10% weekly increase”, rule. So hopefully I won’t pick up an injury.
Wendy is getting onboard with the whole pushbike thing. We are going to pick up her race machine later.
It’s actually a well sorted bike for purpose. It’s got a steel frame to keep the cost down, (but oddly weighs in a 2kg lighter than the aluminium version) has 6 gears, integrated lights and dynamo, full mudguards (most road bikes don’t even have mounting points for them, you have to get stupid ones that hang off the seat post) full size 700mm (28”) wheels, fatter tyres, and a chain guard so you don’t get oil over your girly trousers. And a side stand and rack. Not sure about the utility of either for Wendy, but for it’s target market, city commuters, it’s ideal I suppose. I was looking at the gearing, weight, wheels/tyres, comfort and practicality. Wendy likes it because it’s black and “it looks pretty”.
I’ve invested in a turbo trainer. It’s a resistance device so you can train indoors. Like a treadmill for the bike. I’ll use it for training sessions, but for most of the time I can leave Wendy’s beast on it so she can build her fitness whilst waiting for spring, when she plans to start venturing out.
I’ve tried to sell her on the ‘women only’ swim sessions at the baths, with a view to her first triathlon, but she’s oddly resistant.
Right, crack on.
Later,
Buck.