This one was a fairly late addition to my race calendar. I’d originally planned to do Ironman Tallinn (having registered back in late 2019) but hadn’t appreciated just how much Celtman would beat me up. At the risk of being a broken record, that event really did take it out of me. The main physical toll was an injured rotator cuff and ankle that put me out of swimming and running for a month. Psychologically, I discovered that pushing myself to the limit wasn’t as fun as I thought, and my enthusiasm for another full distance triathlon just completely evaporated. Hopefully I’ll rediscover it for 2022…
I was excited for my first half distance race in 18 months though. It’s such a different experience and frankly a lot more enjoyable. Not only could I really race hard and not be in a world of pain afterwards, but my record had been surprisingly good. In my last five events I’d won four outright and my age group in the other. So with its hilly bike course, Dalesman Half was right in my sweet spot. And with half the triathlon world in Aberfeldy for the British Middle Distance Championships, I came into this one quietly confident.
The biggest known threat was my friend Chris – who’d improved drastically since we last raced. Not only had he won Hever Castle Half this year, but he’d spent a week comprehensively out-cycling me around these exact roads a month earlier. His new blue tri suit was definitely one I’d be looking out for nervously all day.
The race had a brilliant base location at Ripon Racecourse, which I didn’t realise had a big (if shallow and weedy) lake right in the centre. Turning up for registration, I ran into some old university friends who politely asked what my target was for the race. I’m not sure if I was more surprised than them when I instinctively said “To win”. So much for quiet confidence. I went to bed slightly embarrassed and convinced I was heading for a slice of humble pie.
Onto race morning and a civilised 8:30 start (another benefit of half distance). My tendency in the swim had been to go at my own pace and conserve energy. But by swimming with a squad over I’d realised what a difference it makes to hold onto fast feet. With a mass start, I decided to go all out to keep up with the front group – accepting that the first 5 minutes might be a bit of a sprint but worth it in the long run. I managed to hold onto two quick swimmers until the first buoy, before they incorrectly turned off to the right. As they were put right by the safety kayakers, I took the lead and pushed the pace for the next 15 minutes. I knew there was someone right behind me and was pleased when they overtook me for the last section, meaning I was able to keep the same pace at much lower effort. When they struggled a little getting out of the lake, I found myself running into T1 first with the fastest swim split.
I thought my T1 was pretty quick as I absolutely pelted around the transition zone (later found it was average at best) and saw my heart rate was in the mid 180’s as I hopped on the bike. Needed to calm things down. Then I got confused at the very first roundabout less than a minute in – first circling all the way around not knowing which exit to take, then taking the wrong exit and having to double back. I was still in the lead but now had second place right behind me. The route had been poorly signposted (a theme that would continue), but this one was my mistake really. Fuelled by frustration I doubled down on effort to distance myself from the chasing pack. So much for calm.
The bike course could be split neatly into thirds – flat, hilly, then flat again. It was a huge advantage to have cycled the course a few weeks earlier – knowing which bends I could take in aero or not and where I needed to change gear in advance of some sharp inclines. I was feeling strong and didn’t think anyone would be making significant time up on me. At the top of a couple of hills I could see empty road behind and knew I was leading by at least a couple of minutes.
There were annoyances ahead in the last few miles though. We’d been warned of some temporary traffic lights, which were inevitably on red. I stood there hitting my handlebars petulantly as hard-earned time slipped away. Even worse was the final three miles into T2, where I caught up with the slowest athletes doing the full distance race. Cars were struggling to overtake and lining up behind, creating a queue I just couldn’t get past safely with so much oncoming traffic. I was forced down from 30mph to about 17mph in that last section.
Already wound up, I then couldn’t find the turn to take me back into T2. Shouting at marshals and supporters along the road next to the race course I kept getting told to “keep going” and “you’re doing great – one more lap to go”, not realising I was in the half distance race and was very much done with cycling. After heading up and down past the race course with cars everywhere, I found out I should have followed a sign reading “Triathlon camping” down a track completely covered by spectators and with no marshals to direct. Shambolic. Safe to say I wasn’t as happy coming into T2 as the friendly helpers expected from the first cyclist back!
Onto the run, I was immediately suffering. My heart rate was over 170 which didn’t feel sustainable. I later found out that was typical for the run in my previous half distance races, I’d just forgotten how hard it felt. I’d not trained particularly well for this discipline having spent the last 18 months preparing for a 4.5 hour trail marathon at Celtman and neglecting any sort of speed work. Then with the ankle injury and subsequent niggles from trying too many intervals too soon, I knew I’d have to work hard to hold on to first place.
The run course was two laps, each with a sizeable out and back section where I could gauge the distance to those chasing me down. Unfortunately I was quickly joined on the course by athletes doing the quarter distance race, making it hard to know who I was really competing against. I basically took the view that if no-one overtook me, regardless of the event they were in, then I was going to win – possibly pushing me a bit hard on the first lap as I worked to outpace athletes doing the shorter distance.
I clocked Chris at 6 minutes behind me on lap 1, but he also had no idea what position he was in. I was fairly sure he was in second based on who else I’d seen, but couldn’t really relax until the same point on lap 2 where Chris was now 10 minutes behind. I started getting some weird hot flushes in the last few miles – I assume from overexertion – so tried to calm things down a little and not sabotage what seemed a comfortable margin. By the last couple of miles I was making my usual animalistic groans though.
I put in a little sprint across the finish line, with a fist bump and a punch of the air. The commentator was bewildered as to why I was so excited, thinking I was finishing somewhere in the middle of the quarter distance race and so my celebration seemed somewhat excessive. “Wow, he’s really happy about that one”… (although there were no photographs of me looking happy to prove it!)
Despite some timing system confusion, it was eventually confirmed that I had indeed won – which seemed pretty likely having led the race all day and never being overtaken. Chris gritted it out for third (there had been a closer competitor all along who I’d completely missed, but luckily there was always a safe margin between us).
The complete lack of awareness around the result was reminiscent of my first race win at the 2018 Day in the Lakes. As was the 3.5 hour wait for the prize giving so that the last athlete could finish – by which time the vast majority of winners had been forced to go home. I stuck it out so I could claim overall first prize, which turned out to be a fruitcake. A very nice cake, but probably not enough to quit my job and take up triathlon full time.
Overall this was a really well executed race that got everything out of my current ability. It was great to feel so strong and lead it out from start to finish. I had my usual few hours of self-confidence after a good result, until I looked up those results from Aberfeldy. The top age groupers there would have absolutely destroyed me, gaining >10 minutes on the run alone. Always good to get a reality check – it’s clear where I need to get to work for next year. In the meantime, Chris and I will go again at Weymouth 70.3 in September.
