Outlaw Half - The one where it all went wrong

It all started to go wrong at about 4.20am Sunday morning when I went to put my contacts in n realised my right lens was awol.

I hate riding in glasses. 

I have to peer over the top, means I can't wear sunglasses n I generally can't see. 

Hmph. 

Hey ho. 

Can't do a damn thing about it. 

No point stressing. 

I became mother duck to my swimmers going out into the big wide world of half iron distance. 

They would be amazing. 

I knew it in my bones. 

I had blogged previously about being under prepared. But I was ok with it. I was giddy for race day. 

It is my favourite thing. 
Ever.
I have all of the giddy. 

Saturday had seen biblical rain, strong winds and generally crap weather. 

Sunday was calm, sunshiney goodness. 

John and Dave were off first, all was well. 

Me, Sue and Rae waited for our 7am start.

We were off. 

My swim was uneventful, over too soon. As ever. 

Loved it, no violence. Not even an accidental knock. I felt rhythmical n happy. I didn't particularly try hard, I just swam, focusing on staying strong and not giving too much too soon.   

I had hoped to come in the top 25 women given the lack of training I'd done. Because of the day I was going to have, I exited the water 26th female. 

Somehow I managed to lose my bike in transition - got a cheer from the crowd on top of the boat shed though for my  running-about- in-the-wrong-row antics! 

Quick kiss from Cathy on the mount line (she was marshaling and did an amazing job) 

Both Dave n John were out of the water. 

John had had the swim of his life n was out in 41 mins, Dave was a minute in front of me, out in 43. His first open water event. 

How proud was i?

Race on!! 

If you read my previous blog, you will know that I had a list of goals. One of those was to beat Dave. 

I knew I needed a good bike if i was going to do that.  He had the potential to take a LOT out of me on the run. I also knew we were fairly evenly matched on the bike..... on a normal day at least. 

The northern loop was happy and uneventful. 

I was bouncy, had a bit of a sing song to myself, admired the views, was generally having a nice time, keeping my eyes peeled for the boys. I was on top of my fuel and fluid. 

At the end of the northern loop, just as you're about to turn onto the southern loop, there is a long steady drag before the roundabout.

It was going up here that I caught John.

Quick chat as i passed - he'd had a fab swim, no he hadn't seen Dave, was I OK, yes thanks, are you? 

Have a great race, see you soon. 

And so onto the southern loop.

BANG.

That would be me then. 

Pull over.

FUCK. SHIT. BOLLOCKS. WANK. 

Proper blow out. 

The tyre wall had a little hole. 

Gah. 

John stops behind me, I tell him to go on, he tells me to fuck off. 

I'd stop for him and its only a couple of minutes. 

He changes the tube while I compose myself, assures me the wall will be fine, its inside the rim. 

He heads off leaving me to tidy up and put the wheel back on. 

More shouts of see you soon. 

I think I managed to make it about 6 miles before I was flat again.

I stopped outside a house. 

Not deliberately.

A woman hung out of the bedroom window. 

Did I need help? 

No thank you.  I'm good. 

Hang on, I'll get my husband, he cycles.  

I was using my last tube and gas cylinder.
I had started the day with 2 of each spare. 

'Don't use that.
What if you have another puncture.' 
Helpful husband went to his garden shed. 

I accepted kit from outside of the race. 
Tube and use of track-pump.

I suspected it was the only way i would make it back. 
Tyre inflated slightly less this time so it didn't pinch in the tyre wall damage and off again.
I actually said, if a marshal sees me, I'm DQ'd. 

A marshal didn't see me.

I carried on. 
I think I made it all of about 4 miles before I was flat again. 
I was climbing at this point - a woman cycled passed and shouted that there was a marshal at the top of this hill, she would send them back for me. 

I started setting about changing to my last tube, certain that I wouldn't make the 12 miles back to T2 without killing my wheels or having to walk it in. 
Then appeared 2 cyclists, neither wearing numbers, both from Absolute Tri Club.

The nice man, who's name I didn't catch, was so very lovely.  He spent a long time faffing with my wheel so it wouldn't nip, making sure I was OK accepting outside help - again, if i didn't, I don't think I would make it back. 
He gave me yet another tube, and another cylinder. 

I was assured he would've been sad if he hadn't been able to help anyone. I was the first person he was able to help.

After my 3rd stop, I was off.
Again.

I had 12 miles left. 
I just wanted to be back without having to stop again.

Somehow, I was still smiling. 
I noticed a squirrel playing up a tree. 
The sun was shining, the day wasn't over.

I took it slowly on the way back to HPP. 
I didn't want to do anything to risk being flat again. 

The Absolute Tri Absolute Superstars joined me and sat behind.
The wheel looked stable. 
I must have been motoring as i took some catching up. 
That's very kind of you to say, thank you.   

3 hours, 48 minutes after I left HPP, I made it back. 

My head had gone.
I had accepted outside help twice.
I chatted with Cathy on the dismount line.
Pushing on the run seemed pointless. 
I just needed to finish.

Within minutes, I saw Dave, I had turned to do the first out and back along the river, he was about to collect a band - the quickest hug in the world, time enough to tell him how fucking proud I was and find out he was on lap one.

Then I saw John, I waved 3 fingers at him. 
A long nooooooooooooooooooo at my 3 punctures.
He hasn't seen Sue. Had I? No, but Dave is smashing it and so was he. Huzzah. 
Then he was on his way.

Running can make my head go very dark, very quickly. 
I needed to be mindful of that and try stay focused and smiley. 
I kept an eye out for dragonflies - of course there were none (that I saw).

My arm pits were starting to chafe. 
I went to the loo and was repulsed at my body when pulling my trisuit down. Too much info, i know (sorry)
I just saw belly fat and repulsive thighs. 
I should've seen clever strong legs. 
Seemingly the photographer had the same lens that i had in the portaloo..... anyway......

I distracted myself with other runners. 

I saw Rae, who immediately told me that she couldn't do this. 
I reminded her of how much of this she had already done and reminded her that actually, she was doing.  
I saw Sue. 
Squishes, chats. 
Sue was in all sorts of pain and couldn't run.

It doesn't matter - keep moving forwards. 
Do what you can with what you have. 
You will make it. 

I was so fucking proud of them all. 

I chatted with other runners. 
I yo-yo'd with a girl doing her first (and last) half iron for the whole of the run.
She couldn't do run / walk strategy as it would mean she would need to do another and she definitely wasn't doing that. 

I made a lady cry by asking her if she was ok - she DNF'd last year after hypothermia ended her race, she was more than a touch emotional.

I met Brian (finally)
Our conversation was brilliant. 

B;      Rach? are you Rach2Oh from twitter? I'm Brian!
me;    Helloooooooo. Have a sweaty hug. 
         Oh my god, you've got ice cream.
B;      Do you want a lick?
me;    Is that ok?

And thus, I accepted outside help for the 3rd time in the race. 
I had a slurp of Brian's ice cream (not even a euphemism) and I went on to finish the run. 


I beamed throughout the day. 
I was asked how I managed to stay so positive.
Simply because, I'd have cried otherwise. 
And smiling makes it easier and makes you go faster. 

I was so proud of what the others achieved. 
They had fab days and none of them could've done more. 
I'm glad it was my day that fell to bits rather than theirs. 


During my drive home, I allowed my thoughts to run riot. 

• Should I email OSB and say that I want my result wiping and return my medal?
• Did I cheat?
• Would the people who helped me have helped anyone in the same situation and that made it ok?
• Would other competitors do the same?
• Should I have stopped at T2 and DNF'd on the basis of accepting outside help?
• Does the fact I was never gonna win my age group negate the fact? 
• Is it somehow different because its 'recreational racing'
• Is outside help something that is specific to me? so the mechanical bike stuff was OK, but the ice cream wasn't?

I tortured myself for the 2 hours it took to get home with these and similar thoughts. 

My moral compass has gone slightly insane.
I don't want to be a cheat. Given that I knew (and verbalised) if a marshal had gone past I'd be DQ'd, I know the answer. 

But I do wonder what others would do in the same situation. 

What would you do?