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Just for the Hell of it…

After Antwerp 70.3 back in August, I knew I needed a break – both mentally and physically. I was feeling a bit toasted and wanted some downtime. But after a week or so of not doing much training, I found myself looking for another race, a reason to get my butt out of the door if you like. That’s when I discovered the Helvellyn Triathlon… It promised a skull crushingly cold mile-long swim, a 38-mile bike including some crazy hard hills and to finish it off a nine-mile run up then down Helvellyn (which @ 3118 feet is England’s third highest peak). Before I could think too much about it, I found myself signing up, which most of my friends thought was the final indicator that I had totally and utterly lost the plot. “What?! You’ve signed up for Helvellyn? Do you know how hilly that is? You thought Belgium was hilly! How on earth will you and your time-trialler’s quads cope with that?!”

It’s true. I’ve always favoured flat races and it turned out Helvellyn was full, so I just became a reserve and thought no more of it. Phew, that was close…Until an email pinged into my inbox last week telling me I was in if I still wanted the place. Before I could think about it too much and try to talk myself out of it, I got my credit card out, signed up…and then felt very very nervous. Anyone who knows me, knows I’m the furthest thing from an off-road, mountain goat type. Oh well….

Fast forward to Sunday morning and there I am, knee deep in Ullswater Lake in the Lake District with not one, not two, but three swim caps on. The Worlds in Vancouver last year saw us swimming in 11C water. The water on Sunday was a balmy 12C. I was actually so psyched for it being teeth-chatteringly freezing that I barely noticed my little fingers cramping or my chest tightening up. I realised I was swimming along and smiling. This was so crazy it was fun. I was loving it!

It wasn’t so much fun trying to get three swim caps off in T1 with rigor mortis fingers, but hey, it’s all part of the challenge. I’ve never really viewed T1 as a time to relax, warm up and put on layers of clothing, but that’s what it became. Reaching the mount line in calf guards, tri shorts, tri top, bike jersey and arm warmers with a waterproof and nutrition stuffed in my back pockets had been interesting to say the least.

Out on the bike course, I had an absolute ball. I’d been warned to save something in my legs for Kirkstone Pass as it was a properly hardcore Northern 1:4 climb which would totally smack your ar$e. They weren’t wrong about that. Ouch Charlie. I reached my max bike heart rate (previously only seen in black out lab tests!) but still could not wipe the stupid smile from my face. The Lightweights were in a league of their own and were truly brilliant. I hadn’t even thought about what position I was in at this point in the race, but the crowds at the top of Kirkstone were loving it: “You’re first lady!”, “You go girl, first female!” Terrific support – and just the boost you needed after the quad-sapping beast.

Then came a fast and furious descent followed by an undulating seven miles or so back to T2. Time for the run – wicked! I say run…but I soon realised it was more of a hike/climb/scramble. You had to leave T2 with your own food, drink, full body clothing, space blanket, map of the run route, compass and whistle. I’d decided to suck down a Smart Gel every 20mins or so to keep me on it. My legs felt surprisingly good, but I knew it was very early days. I could see people ahead of me walking – what’s wrong with them, I thought? Then I realised it was actually faster and more efficient to walk than run. My new Asics off-roaders were serving me well and I just felt alive: wind-thrashing-against-your-face, heart-rate-@-90%-of-max-type alive. I’d spent so long looking down at where I was planting my feet that it was only at the top when I looked around me that I realised just how high up I was and just how beautiful the Lake District is. Awesome scenery.

Helvellyn Triathlon

And the descent?! Hilarious. Pure comedy. The kind fell runner bloke who ran past me @ 800mph and shouted: “You’re not a fell runner!” was indeed correct (but, please note, if I ever see you in a pool or lake I will undoubtedly enjoy shouting and pointing: “You’re not a swimmer!”). I came down Helvellyn painstakingly slowly while the mountain goat fell runners just flew right on by. Part of me was craving the sight of flat concreted roads but the other part was saying “Suck it up Lidbury, this is what it’s all about”. When I finally reached the outskirts of Glenridding I could not stop beaming. Like everyone else, I was in a fair amount of physical pain, but the sense of achievement was the biggest anaesthetic out there. I was jibber-jabbering like a crazy fool by the time I reached the finish line. Brilliant fun. I simply cannot recommend it enough. As I sit here typing with an ice pack on each quad, maybe now it really is time for some off-season downtime before beginning winter training…