Like many a race registration, my signing up to City of Derry Tri was born from that dangerous combination of FOMO and hope.
It all started on a warm June evening in Copenhagen. Colin and Andy; still riding high on the post 70.3 excitement, decided that now was the time to sign up for their next race. I; still in the depths of regret from having pulled out of the Denmark race months before, decided that I could, and would, get my act together and train for what would be my first race of the year. It was only a sprint after all…
The last weekend in August arrived and with two weeks to go before the City Of Derry Triathlon, I put on my wetsuit for the second time this year. Staring my Copenhagen delusions in the face, I decided the only way to make up for my lack of sea swims was to swim to Foudra. A sink or swim strategy – with a few support kayaks just in case. If I could survive Foudra, I could manage a 750m swim, surely? And survive I did. Wrecked. It took four days for my arms to stop hurting. Swim prep – tick!
Then came race week. A week for some light training, rest, recovery, carb loading. For making sure your gear is prepped and your bags are packed. I arrived back to Galway at 4am on Thursday morning from a work trip with several flight delays, many dodgy airport sandwiches and packed my car with so little motivation that I was actively hoping that I would forget something important, forcing me out of the race.
Arrivingin Derry, I was frankly raging when I discovered that Andy had brought an electric tire pump with him – that was my bike flat tire excuse out the window! I suggested to Aoife that we get up and do a long slow run instead, but she had done a LSR the day before. I went for one last desperate swing and suggested in the Whatsapp group that Orlaith Kilgannon, who was coming along to support, might at least do the swim for me. She laughed it off. I cried inside.
And so it was. 8am by the Foyle, wetsuited and race ready-ish. Goggles already in flitters but too late to turn back now. Thankfully Colin’s lovely family were there for distraction and with Orlaith, Aoife, Andy and Poppy in the crowd for support, I figured all that was left was to enjoy it. Plus it was the European Championships so after the incredible Juniors stepped up to represent their countries, I figured it was time to get over myself.
And guys, I actually enjoyed the swim! The wind had been blowing over the river making it look like we were about to face into a serious current but the tide was with us and with spectators alongside for the duration, it made for a fast and fun time.
Then onto the bike. Now, this is where the serious athletes would say that pre-race prep should always include a good understanding of the course – what is the elevation, does it have technical turns. At this stage it will surprise no one to learn that I had adopted an ignorance is bliss strategy which unfortunately meant that no one was more shocked than myself to learn, mid-way up an outrageously steep hill, that this was in fact, a very very hilly course. At least the out and back meant that I was able to cheer on Andy Ainley and Colin (Spaceballs) O’Donnell as they sped past me on their way back to the run.
It was on the cycle that I also discovered just how little running fitness applies to cycling fitness but after some very jelly legs off the bike ( and thanks to some actual jelly beans left beside my bed by our epic Airbnb hosts) for the first time in the entire race, I finally found some flow. The course was a lovely loop by the water that ended with a run across the peace bridge and into Ebrington Square for a short but steep hill finish.
So what have we learned? Honestly, very little. If anything, it proved that with very poor planning and training, races can still be great fun with the right people present. Special shout out to Aoife for superior Airbnb booking and Colin & Celine for being incredible hosts to what is a city that is more than worth the trip.
