The Season Finale
Overall 52nd in the 25-29year old age category 2:13:58 Swim – 21.24 Bike – 1.01.21 Run – 46.55
The triathlon 2016 season had been a full on year for me, packed with racing, arguably far too much racing. Nevertheless the finale for me would be my first world championships on the Mexican island of Cozumel. This would not only be the hottest environment I'd raced in but also the most humid.
The Tri-London team headed out the week before staying out of the main athlete complex opting instead for a quiet Airbnb off the beach front. From here we tried to get some acclimatisation in, as we attempted to prepare for the heat of race day. I had been carrying an annoying niggle in my left calf and through self-diagnosis I had narrowed it down to posterior splints (like shin splints but on the inside of the calf, rather than the shin). The cause is believed to be a change of shoes recently, but investigation is ongoing. I resigned myself to a regime of massaging pain relief cream and magnesium better you supplements (increases blood flow through the region) into the area and hoped it would hold up for the race.
The days passed and I got all the usual pre-race things ticked off – bike route ride, swim in the very warm ocean and reassembly of bikes following the flight. My bike had made it mostly unscathed from the UK (apart from the handlebars rubbing on the top of the left front fork), and it was back and set up in no time. The bike course was a fast out and back on a service road along the beach region and it was picturesque to say the least.
Race day rolled round and the nerves kicked in. As the 25-29 year old age group huddled on the pontoon, the news went round that they had chosen to shorten the swim as a result of the strong current. Strong current you say, can't be that bad, oh it was. As we got in and into position holding onto the pontoon the current was so strong you had to physically make an effort to grip the edge to prevent the lateral forces thrusting you into the clear blue ocean. The race began with the obligatory horn and to the first buoys it was a mad melee, only made worse by the current pulling all the athletes faster.
Past the first turn and now on the long stretch against the current. I settled into a rhythm early on as I could feel myself overheating. Stroke after stroke I hoped for the current to turn and the buoys to come closer. Mercifully they began to come towards me as I pulled myself through the slower swimmers of the wave before. Turning on the top left corner buoy and looking for the next two buoys, we instantly realised they had been dragged by the current. Underwater the lines connecting the inflatable top section to the weighted anchor were close to 45 degrees. The mass of swimmers took advantage of the course change and headed for home. At this point the kayakers and the organisers in the boats decided they were going to put the course back. This was not a good plan. I passed the middle buoy as it was thrust through a gaggle of swimmers, I would later meet a fellow GB athlete who got caught quite badly across the shoulder by the wire under the water. As they moved the final buoy it caught a small group, including myself, on the wrong side. I had an option to swim back out against the current and then go around the re-positioned buoy, or put my head down and hope no-one noticed my race number and that we had cut a small part of the ever changing course. I went with the second option, head down and crossing my fingers, wanting the swim to end.
I exited the water knowing I hadn't had the best swim, I just had to hope I could recover some positions on the bike. Out on to the bike course and I was flying. Passing guys and girls left and right, all the time wary of the draft busters. In hindsight I got a tad over competitive on the bike. I was enjoying passing people and felt really strong. A small group of us formed all riding similar speeds and at times it all got a bit close. I chose my moments to make passes and tried to hold the overtaking line for as long as possible to avoid going right and getting pinned in. This meant more time without taking on fluids. This aggressive policy was poorly thought through in the heat of competition and would come back to haunt me in the run. As I pushed to the front for the impending dead turn point there was a loud hum and the draft busting bike zoomed up from behind, shouting something frankly inaudible. I just pushed on, and hoped it was nothing to do with me, as in the race brief I had been assured the draft busters would make sure you knew without doubt if you'd been penalised. Dead turn point passed, and then I passed the penalty boxes, no sign of my number. Phew.
I finished the bike strongly, but was beginning to feel the effects of dehydration. I sat up and gulped down some water. I was about 4km from the end at this point and two fast riders flew past within meters of each other both wearing Mexican kit. The front rider was on a TT bike, the rear was drafting on a road bike. What was worse, was the age group tattoo on his leg suggested he was in my age group. There was nothing I could do but put my head down and focus on my race, all the time annoyed that there was drafting at this level of competition. Later I would find out that the rear Mexican rider would be disqualified from the race, and it seems I was not the only one to experience the dodgy race tactics being used by other teams.
Off the bike and into T2 and I was feeling hot already. The moving air on the bike had cooled me significantly and only now I'd got off did I realise this. I racked my bike put on my shoes and took three or four large gulps of my drink which I'd left in T2, it was warm and not remotely refreshing. I resigned myself to having to go and get the run started.
I left transition, GB visor on and ready to feel awful in the heat, and instantly I was not disappointed. My legs were like lead, and the pain in my left calf was ever prevalent stabbing in on every footstep. This was going to be a huge suffer fest. The run course was a two lap affair and the roads were lined with support from all nationalities. On the furthest points there were few people and it felt a very lonely place as you plodded along feeling broken and isolated. Here it was entirely a mental game. Lap one finished and I gave team mate Amy a wave as I passed, I was not enjoying this one bit. Water clung to my body as I trudged round the final corners, all the time with little reserves to be able to challenge those I had eased past on the bike as were they seemingly more at home in the heat.
The blue carpet and the finish finally arrived. Crossing the line I knew it had been a long way from the result I was hoping for but in tough conditions I felt I had overcome a huge challenge. All around me athletes were dropping like flies over the line, the heat was clearly taking its toll.
Later that day the extraordinary events of the Brownlee brothers would unfold and it really brought it home how hard they race and the levels they push themselves to. It was both humbling and inspiring, and they are both a credit to the sport we represent.
