After a few months I entered my first warm up event ahead of London. I picked BRAT sprint Triathlon. I was reliably informed by my new club mates that this was a well organised event and the sprint distance would be a good introduction to racing. However, it was a lake swim and up until that point I hadn’t done any open water swimming in the UK. Even though I considered myself a strong swimmer, the open water element was worrying me. I have never been very good with the cold. I’d swum in the sea often enough on holiday, but that was different. Swimming in the sunshine on the Mediterranean was nowhere near as daunting as jumping in some quarry or lake in freezing temperatures with no visibility.
I also had no idea where you could do open water swimming. I was amazed to learn that there were several venues within a few miles of my village. I was reliably informed that the best one was Blithfield Reservoir near Abbots Bromley. Apparently the water was very clean but, due to the depth, it was very cold. I think I put it off a number of weeks before finally plucking up the courage to go along during one of their organised sessions.
I’d already received my wetsuit as a hire arrangement when I entered the London Triathlon event. You had the option to hire one for the season for a fixed fee, and at the end of that time you could buy it outright. This worked for me, as I had no idea whether it was something I saw myself doing long term or not. I didn’t know whether it was suitable or not, but at least I had something to wear when I turned up for that first session in April 2012.
Being early in the season, the water was a balmy 12 degrees. I was told when I first turned up that because it was my first time, I shouldn’t go in than longer than 10 minutes. As soon as I got in I realised why. Putting your feet in was one thing but when the water goes down the back of the wetsuit it’s a different thing altogether. It takes your breath away. The next step was to put your face in to get accustomed to the feeling against your skin. I did this a few times and then tentatively started to swim. Ice cream head came on within a few seconds. My breathing became more rapid as my cheeks, lips and nose started to go numb. It’s a strange sensation of mild panic as you feel your body struggling against the drop in temperature. It slowly became more bearable as I calmed down and started swimming properly.
One of the strangest feelings is knowing that your feet can’t touch the bottom. All of these irrational thoughts about being attacked by underwater creatures start popping in to your head as you start thinking about the depth of water below. It’s probably from watching Jaws far too many times as a kid. I still have the same thoughts now to be honest. The Family Ness cartoon has a lot to answer for.
I swam out to the second buoy, probably no more than 200 metres from the swim entry point before turning back. I’m not sure it was a massively enjoyable experience but I’d made my first tentative steps in to the world of open water swimming. Each subsequent session became easier as I became more acclimatised to the cold and I started to enjoy it. I liked the feeling of freedom compared to a pool swim. Swimming up and down a lane is great for technique and fitness but can be pretty monotonous. Being outdoors brought a new angle to it. I was starting to see the attraction and looked forward to the weekly ice cream head moments.
By the time the BRAT sprint triathlon came along I felt comfortable swimming outdoors. The distances involved for the sprint were 750m swim, 20k bike and a 5k run. These didn’t seem too bad, so I felt I was within my comfort zone. I had no real idea about transitions though, I just took what I thought might be needed on the day for each section.
The swim went well. I came out of the lake fairly near the front before heading to transition and on to the bike. As has now become customary through all of my triathlon races, I got overtaken by quite a few cyclists throughout the bike section. This is the disadvantage of being a fairly competent swimmer, but a novice cyclist. I got introduced to the sound of disc wheels as those competitors with all of the racing gear came hurtling past. You can hear the sound of the thrum of the wheels behind you before getting overtaken. I didn’t overtake anyone. It’s quite disheartening to slowly lose positions, but I was hopeful I could reel some of them back in on the run.
I finished the bike leg and put my trusty steed on the rack. This is where my lack of transition knowledge hit home. My bike shoes were fastened with metal clips which were stiff and awkward. I fumbled around trying to get those off and then faffed about putting socks on for the run (oh, the shame) before attempting to put on my trainers. The back of my legs started to cramp as I was doubled over trying to tie my shoe laces, so I sat down on the ground instead. When I eventually sorted my laces out I got myself to my feet and hobbled out of transition on to the run section.
Having not done any running off the bike in preparation, my legs didn’t know what was going on. I shuffled along for the first kilometre trying to get my legs going. The course was two laps by the lake, with a sharp incline up a small hill halfway round that rattled my legs even more. My shuffle turned in to some kind of run as my legs came back to life on the hill descent.
I got through it but it always felt that my legs were on the verge of cramp, which was no doubt down to my lack of preparation and non-existent nutrition strategy. I’ve always been susceptible to cramp so it shouldn’t have been any great surprise to get it in this scenario, but some kind of thought around fuelling would have come in handy. It was a great feeling when I crossed the line. Clearly I had a lot to learn about the sport, but it was nice to get the first one under my belt. I came 40th, finishing in 1 hours and 18 minutes, with a 20 minute 5k, so I was pleased with that.