A Sudden Divorce

It's splitsville

It’s splitsville for me and my float

My relationship with Felicity the Float has been somewhat well documented on this blog. But today I have a sad announcement – we will no longer be seen together. Continue reading

The Mass Swim Start

the Burpengary Pool

The pool, not at ‘rush hour’

From my obsessive research I have learned that at most triathlon races, the event begins with the sound of a gun firing and the athletes sprinting down a beach to crashing waves, where everyone must dive in to the water and start swimming toward a buoy or some kind of marker. As a result of this mass start, you have 200-odd people pushing towards one small spot in the distant water, trying to swim in the exact same patch of water. Inevitably it seems, I will be kicked, punched, swum over.

I didn’t know I was going to get a chance to train for this, but the opportunity was thrust upon me yesterday morning.
Continue reading

A Tale of Two Swims

Matilda the dog, swimming

Matilda offered to demonstrate some swimming to help me see how it should be done.

It was the worst of times, it was the best of times.  Yes in that order, sorry Charles Dickens.

Last week I did two swimming training sessions, as usual.  Ideally I should probably do more because swimming is definitely my weakest link, but I also have to squeeze in running, cycling, a mash-up session (which I have brought into the training mix earlier than I originally anticipated, following the disastrous first attempt) as well as strength training.  So basically I have found that for now, two swims is my limit.  Maybe when I’m good enough to do more mash-ups I’ll be able to increase the swimming because I’ll get my running and cycling done in one hit – stay tuned on that I guess.

[Incidentally, I did my second ever mash-up last week and the best way I could describe it would be to say that it was like I had turned into a chicken trying to climb a tree.  Leg coordination = non-existent. Approximate distance gained = negligible. Hilarity factor = medium. Oh who am I kidding, hilarity factor was high. There is muchos work to be done on this element of my triathlon training; it aint pretty.  Look out for a report after next week’s attempt.]

So anyway (last week, two sessions of swimming, stay focused Lauren) my first session of swimming was – how do you say? Sh*thouse. Continue reading

Away With You, Nose Clip!

Nose clip

It’s as comfortable as it looks. Not very.

I have found it surprisingly easy to over-share personal information here on my website – for instance, just take a look at the picture of me in my tri-suit; that is not a picture any female really wants to share of herself with the world.  But for some reason I have embraced the honesty of the blog and I’m trying to show my triathlon training how it really is – hard, ugly, confusing, laughable and occasionally successful.

In real life though, I am actually like most human beings and quite insecure and over-sensitive in many respects.  Normally I actively avoid dragging other people into my meaningless life wherever possible because I assume (and hope) that no-one cares what I am doing.

Which means that I am not really used to my friends or acquaintances knowing every little detail of things that are happening in my world.  And therefore I am not used to people being able to step in and help without me asking them. Continue reading

A Small Success

Felicity the Float

Felicity, my little leg float

Last week marked one whole month since The Great Pool Panic.  As has become my habit, on Wednesday morning I jumped into the pool for the first of my two swim sessions for the week.

I started by practicing my usual strong exhalation techniques and sinking to the bottom of the pool, but in a break from tradition, last Wednesday I decided to skip the breast stroke.  I’d been starting every swimming practice with a few lengths of breast stroke, but frankly I was fed up with it.  I likened it to borrowing the scooter off the kid next door, going for a scoot and calling it bike training.  So I grabbed my little leg float, wedged it between my thighs and set off freestylin’ it without a care whether I was crap or drowned. Continue reading