Redricks Triathlon - Olympic

Before racking my bike on Sunday my tyres had not touched tarmac since Ironman Wales last September. Shocking. Whilst I've been putting some hours in on the turbo, not once have I ridden outside. Whether this is due to living in Central London where the roads are busy and brutal, a lack of cycling buddies or just a lack of enthusiasm, this has to stop and I need to change my cycling ways. Not so much for fitness, but for handling and gear selection there is no substitute for the open road.

Redricks Lakes, is a quaint facility ten or so miles outside London in the Hertfordshire countryside. Not far from where I grew up, further along the River Lea tow path, it was an old schoolfriend in fact who introduced me to this race last year. Then, a week out from Ironman Wales I was getting a feel for transitions and triathlon logistics, this year the focus was on putting down a marker for the season ahead with four months of training still to come. At this event last year I managed a cheeky 4th place, so would I improve on that this time around? The answer would be no. As I pulled into the carpark it was evident that last year had been an end of season affair, and now the boys were testing their toys. 

Daria ready to rumble

Redricks is an ‘earthy’ location for a triathlon. Down a gravelly track, it is fair to say transitions are a tad more demanding than those on the ITU circuit! From swim to bike, one must whip off the wetsuit and slip on a pair of trainers for the rocky run up to T1. Coming in to T2, control your adrenaline levels as a quick hop off the bike may prove fatal on the rubbly road beneath. Knowing this ahead of time kept me a lot calmer than last year’s debut without the mad rush to drop off trainers by the swim exit, two minutes from the start. Casually racking my bike and setting out transition like a little girl at an imaginary teddy bear picnic, I waltzed down to the lakeside to wetsuit-up (always a two minute job *coughs). Popping in for a dip, I was pleasantly surprised by the spring-time temperature, not requiring a motivational talk to get the head under. After a few fast warm-up strokes out and back we were lining up for two laps of the water.

Scaring away the swans

Looking calm from afar

Boy, there’s nothing like a triathlon swim start. Off goes the gun and you've feet in your face and arms on your arse! From the outset it felt as though every swimmer had passed me such was the amount of splashing and yellow caps ahead. In reality this had not happened, rather I had been left for dead by a lead pack, out on my own with the rest of the wave behind me. Really from the start it was a race of solitude. I swam an unhindered couple of loops before exiting onto the (needlessly) sandy shore to find someone had moved my trainers to another spot (cheers). Thankfully with the hues of modern day shoes, it was hardly Year 9 PE, so my distress was not long-lasting. Sat on a hay bale I had one of my finer wetsuit strips, slipped on my elastic laced tri shoes and reacquainted myself with my calf muscles for the staggered sprint to T1.

Far from 1-2-3

Quite the pro

As a more experienced triathlete these days I had also slipped in a gel and put on my bike gloves on the run up all in the name of multitasking. My beloved girlfriend was waiting up by transition, receiving a grumpy ‘yeah, I’m fine’ for her efforts, my mood dampened by the latest wetsuit stress. Wetsuit thrown, trainers off, socks on, bike shoes on, tri belt fastened, helmet buckled, glasses on, quick swig and away I went all clipped in and ready to roar. Styling it out a little as I weaved sideways on the exit road, schoolboy error-ing having my bike in a high (or is it low?) gear.

Pedal, pedal, pedal

Knowing the course certainly helped, and the entire route was well marshaled (thank you marshals as always). As I left the Redricks entrance onto the race route proper, there was a cyclist up ahead causing a stream of traffic that forced me to stay on the brakes behind the ebb and flow of vehicles. Caught between the nuisance of the hold-up and the appreciation that drivers were respectful enough not to overtake on blind corners, I thought about riding up the outside to leapfrog but such is the preciousness of life, I saw sense and waited it out. Thankfully that was pretty much it for traffic and it felt safe to aero-around the country lanes unhindered. I counted four passes over the two loops, as I put down a strong bike time (at least for Mr Never Cycles). Living in Central London, the one thing (and it really is the one thing) I do envy of those living outside the capital is the accessibility to country roads. It was a really enjoyable ride and reignited a wavering passion for cycling. With 45 concentrated kilometres in my legs, I came into T2 in good spirits, another bike leg under my belt and two harrowing stretches of the A414 survived.

After the quickest transition of my life (50 seconds) I sprinted out in the hope of chasing down a few more places before the finishing line. My legs were feeling bad, the result of going hard on the bike, so much so that I was contemplating slowing down to a walk. Which I would have done for sure, if it weren't for the knowledge that this phase does pass, and it did. What had been a lonely bike ride, was now a lonely run, and after taking two guys on loop one, there was nobody up ahead catchable on loop two so it was a somewhat pedestrian end to the day. Nutritionally I was quite low on energy having had just one gel at T1 plus a dash of water here and there, on what was a warm day, so to keep the fires burning for the best part of three hours was encouraging, albeit badly planned. Taking the turn after what was more eleven kilometers, I crossed the line in eighth, with 2:43 on the clock.

Child gathering stones and filling his dad's bandana

After the event last year I had become Instagram-friendly with a Gary Schroeder (@CyclingBoyLondon), and it was the first time we’d met up since. Unfortunately he punctured-out early into the bike leg which must have been ‘deflating’ for him, and very ‘tyring’ indeed. Jokes aside, he stayed to keep my girlfriend company and see me across the line, which was all very kind. Mandatory dirt-burger munching and ‘everything in a black bin liner’ followed, before packing up for the drive home. Another splendid day out and I’ll be back to race there as soon as time allows.

The dangers of wearing a tri-suit. Cream up people!

Redricks Olympic Distance Triathlon Spring 2015 / 02:43:59 / 8th place