So here it is! This post is loooong. Get a drink first. Maybe get two. If you can’t be bothered reading: I survived it. If you want to know the juicy details, well read on…
I decided that the day before race day I would just stay home and act normally, cleaning the house and mowing the lawn. This didn’t get off to a great start, because it was frankly very weird to wake up without an alarm clock going off – I simply woke up naturally and went and sat on the lounge chair with a book. Yes, an actual reading book that you read when you have a thing called leisure time. The dog looked at me as though the apocalypse was probably coming, and went to hide under the bed.
She was kind-of right.
From my triathlon research days (they seem so long ago now!) I had heard of the term The Taper – used to refer to the rest period prior to a big race – so I knew people speak of it with a mixture of hatred and fear, but I thought they were all triathletised fools who couldn’t appreciate a well-earned rest when they finally got one.
Until yesterday, when I suffered my very own Taper Day fear and hatred (note that The Official Taper for a proper triathlon is around a week, not a day! How will I cope?) and I practically had to tie myself to the chair to prevent myself from rushing out the door for a quick run to the pool, where I thought I might try a 4km swim and then run back home to do a 70km bike ride.
Because what the hell was I thinking, that I could take a day off from training when I was about to do the ultimate training the very next day?! It seemed so illogical!
The panic that bubbled just under the surface of my skin was quite frightening. I hadn’t done enough training. The training I had done was not good enough. I was too heavy to reach maximum speed on the run – I needed to lose 37kg within the next 3 hours. I hadn’t practiced clipping in and out enough lately. I needed to check my goggles and cap still worked.
I was on the brink of a breakdown. So at 10am I went shopping. Continue reading