The race

Race report Huskisson long course triathlon 2014

It was the race that almost didn't happen.

3pm Friday and I was sitting next to a hospital bed in emergency waiting for my husband to come back from a scan. I'd been told they would be 20 minutes and I'd already waited an hour. I was beginning to panic.

Swimming 2km, Cycling 83km and running 20km was a long way from the top of my mind and quite a long way from my cares.

At 10am that morning, just as we were preparing to leave for Huskisson, my husband had collapsed with pain and I'd driven him to emergency. We had no idea what it was, the nurses had no idea what it was and the doctors, while they had some theories, weren't that much more helpful.

Eventually, my husband came back from his scan, which still showed nothing. He'd already been in emergency for a good six hours, and given that no one could decide what he had (except to all agree death or incapacitation were no where near imminant), he was packed off home with a weeks supply of Endone and instructions to come back in if the pain got worse.

We were home, but I still didn't think we'd make that triathlon. Part of me was relieved. Even though I'd trained hard and done everything I could to prepare, I wasn't convinced that a long course triathlon was something I could actually complete. My longest run in training was 17 km and in my last triathlon I'd struggled with the 10km run and ended up with a disappointing time.

By nine the next morning my husband was feeling better, an insisted that we head down to Huskisson. I drove, while my love lay back in the passenger seat, doped up on Endone and Neurophen.  We got there just in time to register and rack my bike, ready for the 5am transition open, and 6.50am start the next day. It was then I began to get nervous. My goal was to finish the race and I knew I'd do it in around seven hours, but then, that night I read the race manual again. Anyone who finished in over seven hours would receive a DNF (did not finish). There was no way I wanted to complete the whole thing and still have it recorded as a DNF.

Ten minutes before race time and I wasn't just nervous, I was terrified. Why was I doing this? Why did I think I could do this? My wetsuit had turned all boa constrictor and was strangling me. I belived that Id make it somehow, but thought there was no way I'd be able to do it in under seven.

As soon as the gun went off I became calm. Unlike the sea, which, had grown quite a swell. I thought back to my race plan. Head down for the first 100 metres. Breath every 5 strokes. Find the feet of someone you want to follow and stick to them. It worked. The sea was rough and I swallowed plenty of salt water on the way, but as long as I followed those feet I felt fine.

Forty five minutes later I was out of the water, thanking the woman I'd tailed on the swim as I passed her on the stairs, feeling a little sick from taking in too much of the choppy, salty, seawater.

I was a long time (5 minutes) in that first transition. I took a long swig of water to try and dilute some of the seawater in my stomach but it did nothing for my queasiness. My wetsuit seemed to take forever to peel off and my shoes wouldn't slide on. But, once I was on the bike, again I felt calm.

On the first loop of the bike leg I realised that I couldn't do this at my fastest pace. The course, described as 'undulating', was extremely hilly and tiring on the legs. There were three loops and each loop would take me over an hour. I was still feeling queasy but knew I was going to need to take on nutrition to keep myself going through the cycle and onto the run. I started sipping my energy drink and nibbling on some energy bars. Half way through the second lap I vomited, but I kept going, forcing myself to keep drinking and eating. I kept my mind focussed on the end. breaking the ride down to manageable stages.

Half way through the bike I resigned myself to finishing under seven hours. 'At least,' I told myself. 'I'll know I finished it.'

Almost three and a half hours after I started I hurled myself off my bike and into transition my mind was clear about whatI had to do - just finish the thing - don't worry about the time.

I was fast through my second transition, slipping my  runners on easily. Right away I realised I felt good. My legs felt fresh, like I was just starting an ordinary run. Three kilometers into the run I still felt great and I knew that my goal to run the entire first 10km was easily with reach- if I could keep going after that I might make it across the line after the cut off.

I put my contingency plan (run for 5 minutes, walk for 1 minute) behind me. When I passed the 10km mark my watch stopped working. With no watch I could only estimate how close I was to that goal. I made sure I took water with coke or an energy drink at every nutrition station to keep me moving. At 14 km it began to hurt. By 16 km my legs felt less than solid under me.  All I could do was keep moving, keep running, I knew I was close to my goal but didn't know how close, I kept imagining myself missing out on my goal by 30 seconds and knew I could not stop running.

I crossed the line in 6 hours and 42 minutes, eighteen minutes faster than my stretch goal time. I ran the entire 20km. The first 10km was close to my fastest ever ten kilometres and 8 minutes faster than the 10km run in my last triathlon (which was half the distance).

I was stoked. I'd trained hard but it was worth it. I remember a friend telling me two years ago that she'd run that race and I thought I'd never be able to do something like that. But then, there, I did it, and much faster than I thought I ever would.

My thanks go to my coach Matthew Thomas at triaction for some amazing coaching and my husband Alistair Cowie for training alongside me, and cheering me on even though he wasn't well.