No, not the winter sport version. Cross country skiing and rifle shooting? In the Midlands where there is two inches of snow every five years? I don’t think so. I’ve done skiing which I will come on to later, but cross country skiing is a different kettle of fish entirely. I’m sure it is fantastic for fitness but it doesn’t look like a lot of fun, although if I was from Norway I’d probably completely disagree.
This type of Biathlon was swimming and running. It certainly isn’t a well-publicised sport and I only heard about it (along with all of my other Lichfield Swimming Club friends) when a leaflet was posted on the swimming club notice board for a competition at Cheslyn Hay, venue to another local swimming club. Given that I was pretty much in to anything sporty, this seemed like a good idea to me so, along with a few others from the club, I entered.
It’s a fairly simple concept. The distances varied by age group, but it was all fairly short stuff. For me at the time, in the twelve and under category it was just 100m swim in the pool and then a 1km run. You did the two events completely separately as opposed to other multi-disciplinary events like triathlon where you did the disciplines consecutively with a transition. So there was generally a fairly long recovery period between the swim and the run which meant you could get changed and warm up again. Sounds a bit tame now looking back.
At that time I got on well with a member of another swimming club called Mark. I’d met him on a few occasions at various open meets and galas and although we often competed against each other, we became friends. He was a slightly faster swimmer than me and had also entered this biathlon. He took great delight in telling me that he was a very good runner and declared he was going to beat me easily. Given that I hadn’t seen him run I had no reason to doubt him.
I’d had a fairly average swim in the morning, and was well down in the rankings after the 100m – you picked up points for your time which would then be added to your run time points to provide your overall score. Mark was a few places before me lining up for the run so I could see how he approached the race. Just to explain, each competitor was set off at 30 second intervals so it was easier for the timekeepers to record the times. It was basically a straight time trial run with you against the clock rather than a bunch start. I must admit I liked this format as you had a competitor to aim at and try and hunt down. Chase the rabbit was my mindset.
Mark was given his countdown from five to one and set off on his run; a 1k lap of the playing fields leisure centre. I was surprised at how fast he went. Whenever I had previously done these types of runs I had always held myself back, not wanting to blow up too soon. What I was watching was a different tactic, Mark was sprinting as fast as he could and attempting to hold on for the whole distance. As I watched him go around the course I wondered whether I could do the same. I wasn’t sure. He kept going, and going, and going right to the end until he crossed the line gasping for air. I was impressed.
As the other competitors were set off in front of me, I got more and more nervous. When it got to my turn, the official put his hand on my shoulder. I got myself ready. He started the countdown, five, four, three, two, one…and took his hand away. I sprinted away as fast as I could. My mum started shouting encouragement as I made my way to the first bend. Following Mark’s example I went as fast as I could, setting my sights on the person in front of me, trying to catch them. My lungs were burning as I continued sprinting. I remember thinking it was a really bad tactic, this was unchartered territory for me. I had never pushed myself this hard, but it felt like the right thing to do. To my complete surprise I managed to keep up the intensity right through the course until I collapsed in a heap over the line. This was my first experience of pushing myself to the limit. It hurt, a lot. My legs were on fire and it took a good few minutes to catch my breath. I distinctly remember my mum coming over and shouting well done. The time I’d clocked was the fastest of the day, by some distance. She was definitely more shocked than I was. I hadn’t told her my tactic so she was panicking that I’d gone off far too quickly. She wasn’t the only one.
As I watched the rest of the runners coming over the line I was watching their splits. No-one was getting close to my time. This was a completely new sensation for me. I’d never been in this kind of position before, I’d always been chasing someone else. It felt great. It felt even better when the last of the competitors came through and I’d still got the fastest split. Mum did a quick calculation of the points and was sure that I’d made the top three but was as surprised as anyone when the results came out and found out that I’d actually won. Winning swimming races at school or within the club was one thing but to win a multi-discipline open event was another. I was pretty chuffed when I got to stand on the podium and collect my winner’s medal and trophy. It didn’t matter to me that this was a little known event, I’d pushed myself as far as I could go and it had worked.
From then on my attitude to competing changed. I felt I could challenge the top guys, particularly when I ran. I had gained a confidence in my running ability that wasn’t there before. It might not be world beating, but I knew I could compete.
I entered more biathlon events after that. I always felt I had opportunities to do well, even if my swim wasn’t a personal best. The kilometre run distance clearly suited me. Not quite a sprint, but long enough to stay fast and leave the true sprinters behind. This is when I gained confidence to run 800 metre races at school flat out. It hurt like hell, but it seemed to work.