So 2013 Worlds were in London, England, UK - in the very location where this brilliant chap raced his way to Gold at the 2012 Olympics:
To say I was looking forward to racing on this Hyde Park race course would be a gross understatement. I was excited. Very excited. So excited that I babbled to the poor woman at the security desk non-stop while she begrudgingly checked me into my red-eye flight on Saturday, September 7th like a manic depressive while Steve from Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs jumped around my head screaming "Excited! Excited! Excited!".
I really do feel sorry for the poor woman listening to me babble about triathlon, but in retrospect I think anyone would rather deal with an excessively happy customer than one yelling and complaining. Her expression said otherwise, however.
The flight was uneventful. The plane took off, some artificially friendly people (it is Air Canada after all) fed me something that resembled food, and it landed.
This was my expectation of my mood upon my arrival in London:
This was my reality:
I was EXHAUSTED! To give you an idea of how tired I was when I landed, I was starving but didn't even want to eat because I didn't have the energy. All I could think of was "For the love of God, someone get me to a bed!"
Fortunately I had a shuttle service that did just that*. I remember going to my room with the intention of a 'quick snooze' before setting up my bike and exploring the city a bit, it was 3pm after all.
*Side note - it turns out its a fantastically brilliant idea to book these things in advance, and not at the airport when one is severely jet lagged.
Yeah...that did not happen. I don't even remember hitting the pillow. I woke up briefly at 10pm when my London roomie arrived, but other than that I did not leave that bed until the next morning at 7am. By which time I was used to the time jump, although my stomach would take a few days to get hungry at the correct times.
Said London roomie arrived a bit more energetic than I had.
Now let me tell you a few things I noticed about England immediately.
First of all, they don't appear to believe in uncooked veggies. Everything is boiled or fried. Our 'English' breakfast offered at the Team Canada hotel consisted of boiled mushrooms, fried tomatoes, fried toast, fried back bacon, fried sausage, fried eggs, and a small bowl of what appeared to be canned fruit. Also they have this thing called 'mushy peas' which appears to just be peas that have had the shit boiled out of them until there is nothing left but a green paste. England is also the only place where I have seen sugar put into Caesar salad dressing. I was moderately surprised the English weren't all dropping dead on the street from heart disease. The tea, however, was both amazing and plentiful.
Secondly, the British dress very well. By comparison, I apparently have no idea how to dress myself - next to the British blokes I looked like someone who had wandered out of a fight with a gazelle in a thrift store closet whilst shrugging off a terribly nightmarish hangover. I had to resist the urge to go on a shopping spree while there just to try and blend in.
Thirdly, I didn't see a single crappy car or truck the entire time I was there. It was heaven! I am so glad the British are far too sophisticated for such ridiculous things as suspension trucks and hitch balls. Well done England!
Finally, it rains there a lot. Like literally all the time, and its not a solid rain - its more like a perpetual drizzly mist from a very grey sky. It was damp and cold and every single English person insisted "this wasn't normal" although from my observations and the sheer number of bumbershoot stands everywhere, I think that might be a colossal English self-delusion.
Take away - I loved London, but I did miss my fresh veggies and clear blue sky!
The entire week was kind of a blur, and honestly a lot of it was spent doing rather dull athlete prep stuff that I shan't bore you with as it is so dreadfully dull to anyone who isn't in the race that paint drying looks like Duck Dynasty having a fight with Honey Boo Boo at a tea party hosted by the Mad Hatter by comparison. So I shall save you all by simply doing a random re-cap of some of the week before moving on to race day.
I saw a phone booth!
It rained.
I stood outside Buckingham Palace and saw one of those guard peoples!
It rained
I also went to see Phantom of the Opera with "Ridiculously-Fast-Triathlete-From-Ontario" = RFTFO for short.
It rained, but not in the theater fortunately.
Wednesday I dressed as a bear to promote the 2014 Grand Final - which will be in EDMONTON, ALBERTA, CANADA*!
*Side note - I'm excited that next year I can sleep in my own bed the night before Worlds. My bed is comfy. My sheets are blue. I like dogs.
It rained.
We watched my roomie finish the Sprint race.
It rained.
We had Team Canada photo day.
It rained...after the photo session was done.
We made some new friends from the USA and Norway.
It rained
And suddenly before I knew it, it was the day before the race and it was time to check in Victoria for the night.
In the rain.
Despite the fact every angel in heaven must have been watching The Notebook and balling their eyes out all over London all week, I felt ready to go for my biggest race of the year. After all, we were Canadian - we are tough, we are red, we are fierce!
Suddenly, everything seemed so real. Like good golly miss molly I was about to race at Worlds! There was people here from Mexico! And Italy! And places with really sexy accents! What if I crashed again? What if something went wrong and I never crossed that finish line - as had happened in Auckland 11 months ago? What if I blew several tires, lost an arm, and got abducted by aliens? What if the end of Inception was still a dream and the top was about to fall when it cut to black?
Wait...what? Aliens? Where did that come from? Roll over and check clock - 1am. Still had yet to fall asleep...that might be why aliens were on the brain. Also I really wanted some kale.
2am. Still nothing. 3am. Zombie pickle farts, I may never sleep. 4am. Maybe if I had a shot of whiskey?
4:30am - time to rise. Transition opened at 5:15am. I hadn't slept a wink before the biggest race of the year. I felt like the inside of a rectal chamber. I looked like hell. My brain was fuzzy and made no sense. BANANAS!
I choked down a few spoonfuls of oatmeal before realizing I simply couldn't eat anymore. I double checked that I had everything in my bag, bundled up, and left my hotel room.
It had been cold all week. On Sunday, September 15th it was even colder. I had shirts, sweaters, coats, toques, and mitts on and I was still freezing by the time I got to transition. I was shivering despite my layers by the time I finally had my area set up the way I wanted. I was cold. I was wet. Everything was muddy. But it was Worlds, so I sucked it up and found a place to change.
I thought putting on my wetsuit early would help me overheat slightly before the race started and help get me through the swim. It didn't help.
By the time we were lead from the marshaling area to the start pontoon I could not feel my feet or my hands, I was shivering so violently I'm sure it looked like I was having a seizure, and I am willing to bet my nipples were visible from space despite the thick layer of wetsuit material covering them.
Just in case that doesn't properly convey how cold it was - they shortened the swim from 1500m to 750m due to 'unfavorable conditions'. AKA - it was so bloody cold rules dictated that they couldn't keep us in the water any longer than 750m because hypothermia was a very real concern.
Ironically, the water was still warmer than the air and it was almost a relief to slide into the Serpentine, rest my hand on the pontoon, and wait for that horn blast whilst trembling from cold and nerves and sheer excitement.
"60 seconds"
This was it. This was my redemption race after Auckland.
I was not going to finish in an ambulance again. I was not going to spend weeks bleeding, months rehabbing cracked ribs and an injured hip, shoulder, and knee. I was going to cross the finish line Alistair Brownlee had crossed one year prior to claim Olympic Gold. I was not going to be the last Canadian.
That was the last thought I remember thinking on that start line, because then the horn blast cut through the frosty morning air and the water erupted in a frenzy of arms and air bubbles.
I attacked off the pontoon. I have never been that vicious in a swim. Apparently everyone else had the same idea. By the first buoy I had taken several kicks to the face, almost lost my goggles, was hyperventilating from the cold and having troubles breathing, and was nearly convinced I was swimming in a pack of Chuck Norris's.
After the third buoy things started to go more smoothly and I began feeling more confident in the swim and tried to make up the ground I had lost. I never did, I left the water that day in my slowest open water swim time of the season. However, I had finally cut ties with my watch - so I had no idea. I knew it was not great, but I am glad I did not see the time - it likely would have discouraged me.
All I remember about T1 is that it was long, and it was hard to get to. Not because it was a challenging course, but because I had no feeling in my feet from the cold or hands and had some troubles getting my wetsuit off. Transition was also frosty, damp grass and mud. It was like the worlds greatest slip and slide had been placed in the worst possible location.
In retrospect had there been one of those blooper sound tracks playing continuously during the competition, transition would have probably been very entertaining for the spectators to watch. RFTFO had an epic bum slide right past his bike. I am sure it was hilarious to see.
Finally I was heading out of T1...my sun glasses were fogging and icing over. Frustrated, I flung them off as I exited T1 so I could see*.
*RIP sunglasses, you were good. If it makes you feel any better, I have yet to buy your replacements.
I had a really hard time getting my feet into my shoes because I couldn't feel where they were and as soon as I got them in and I went to push it on the bike - I found I couldn't. I was so cold, my legs just seized. It was like I was stuck in slow motion while everyone else was in real time. I wanted to take in nutrition but I had so little dexterity in my hands that I couldn't even get my water bottle out of the holder, and quickly gave up trying to. I just settled in and focused on the bike.
"Do not crash. Do not crash. Keep your line in this turn. Do not crash."
That is all I remember thinking on the bike. My second lap was stellar compared to the first, despite a very slow first lap I almost broke my bike PB because my legs finally warmed up and I really picked it up in the second 20km. Had it been warmer, I would have smashed my bike PB - which makes me really stoked for the 2014 race season!
My feet and hands were still numb going into T2, and I had not been able to get any nutrition into me on the bike. I was able to get my run shoes on just fine though and headed out of transition.
The second I exited T2 I felt this massive weight lift off my shoulders. I was going to make it. I was going to finish this race! I had survived the bike! All the apprehension I have felt since that crash in Auckland every time I have gotten on a bike since seemed to evaporate in that moment, I felt like I had conquered Everest! I was higher than Taylor Swift's bank account after a break-up!
I also felt like I was running on two wooden pegs. My feet were completely numb! But there were aid stations with liquid nutrition - thank goodness! I took some at the first station to make sure I would be able to survive the run.
That run was one of the best moments of my life. It was lined with people, from every nation, cheering and yelling. I felt electric! There are few moments in life that are absolutely perfect, but that run was one of them. It was easily the highlight of my entire race. I hurt, but I loved every minute of it.
I also took 3 minutes off what I had run off the bike just 1 month prior. The last 5km of the run was also the first time the entire race that I broke a sweat.
Finally, the blue mat. The finish chute. And it was done. The biggest race of the year, what I had been training for months to do, was now over.
Suddenly I realized I might retch.
The rest of my day was great. I had been ranked 90th going into the race and finished 80th, had achieved a small personal best, and wasn't the last Canadian. Despite the cold, which was a disadvantage everyone had to face, I had had a great race.
I took some photos with friends I had made at the finish line.
I met the Brownlees and got them to sign a copy of their book for me.
And of course attended the closing ceremonies and after party, at which I learned that if you give me enough wine I discover talents I never knew I possessed. Like pole dancing.
I barely slept that night too. The next morning was full of good-byes, tons of hugs, and a drawn out day of traveling before I finally got home.
All in all, London was awesome. It wasn't quite the experience I had in Auckland, both in good and bad ways, but it was still a great time. The race and the fact I finished stole the show, so to speak.
I cannot wait until next year and I hope to see all you locals out at 2014 Worlds!
Oh and apologies for the hiatus from blogging, life exploded for a while post-London.
Cheers!
Bry-Bry
