Having hit the big "Four-O" last year, I freely admit that my recent discovery of exercise and in particular, triathlons, looks very much like a mid-life crisis. Well, at least it's cheaper than buying a sports car and I don't think I would suit a po
ny-tail!
Following a long winter of hard training, my efforts culminated in the completion of the Lisboa International Half Ironman last weekend, my first goal.
During the weeks running up to the event, I experienced an ever-increasing volume of butterflies, concerned that I would not be up to the task. These fears were only compounded when I arrived in Portugal the day before the race. Mingling with the other competitors, I felt completely out of my depth, lacking in experience and technical know-how, not to mention my lack of a physique devoid of any sign of fat.
It didn't help that the introduction to most of the field occurred at the swim practice, where, under the spotlight of local TV crews and press cameramen, the elite competitors casually chatted, their tanned, honed bodies rippling in the sunshine, looking every bit the phenomenal endurance athletes that they are. Trying to keep my cool while remaining out of view, I started the process of squeezing my pale, sweating body into my wetsuit (no easy task) before entering the water.
Unfortunately, the comfort of resembling an iceberg, most of my mass inconspicuous below the water, was fairly short-lived when it dawned on me that in less than 24 hours, I would have to swim two laps of this lake, sharing a route with 600 other swimmers, all of whom no doubt more competent than me! Queue the first mini panic attack!
This first trauma survived, I was soon able to immerse myself in my next task, something at which I knew I could compete with the best.
Prior to any endurance event it is important to load your body with fuel and thus I had free licence to eat as much pasta as I could physically squeeze in. This was to be the only record I would challenge all weekend!
Satisfied I could eat no more, I was tucked up in bed by 10pm, my alarm set for 5.30 the following morning, giving me just enough time for one more meal before the race!
Unsurprisingly, my night's sleep was broken as waves of nervous tension swept across me every time my thoughts turned to my inevitable date with the water later that morning.
As night follows day, after months of training (and talking about doing the event) the moment of truth arrived and there I was, in my wetsuit, treading water on the start line with 600 others not really sure whether I wanted it to start or not.
Start it did, the relatively calm waters instantly turned into a boiling mass of arms and legs as simultaneously we all headed for the other end of the lake.
I have to confess that the first five minutes were as stressful as it gets as I tried to convince myself that it was unlikely that I would drown.
