Cardiff Bay Triathlon

I've always wanted to do a Triathlon.

OK, not always, but some time, a couple years ago the thought somehow entered my head:

"Fero, you like swimming, cycling and running. And you're becoming a lazy poo. Do a Triathlon!"

So I... didn't sign up. But the thought returned around Christmas 2018, when I felt like I need a challenge for the next year. Something new. Something to get me back on the right track. Something I could brag about.

And so I googled "Cardiff Olympic triathlon" and there it was - on a website of an organisation with a suited named "Always aim high". What followed next was quick and thrilling:

"100 GBP entrance fee..."
"WHAT!"
"you live only once Fero..." (and hopefully beyond the Triathlon)
"choose a country to represent? This seems like a serious shit"
"ok, Slovakia"
"should I click that pay button...?" (hovering over it ...)
"CLICK"

The next minutes were spent checking the refunding section of T&Cs. You know, just in case I would keep being a lazy poo...

But too much was paid already with too small a chance of a refund. And so I started to train. Slowly - mind you, this was January and the race wasn't till summer solstice in June! In spite of that, a run or two a week and a swim a week became my new routine. Interestingly (or maybe not), we people have a tendency to find excuses not to do exercise, even if we know that we WILL feel better afterwards. It's officially called the "lazy poo syndrome" (LPS) and if there's one thing that's good about signing up for a looming and a scary race, it's overcoming the LPS.

Fast forward about five months. June was coming and the weather turned "Welsh". Even by local standards, the lack of sunshine and abundance of rainy days was surprising (there were only 9 days without rain in the whole month preceding the race). But I found this convenient - I had a hard time focusing enough on the grueling training with all the temptations of the sunny days - busking, hiking trips, hanging out with friends and sipping beer. In other words, LPS was back, but this time I knew I can't let it slide. So I came up with a devious plan.

In UK (and in ONS where I work), there's a nice and interesting tradition, which I call "I suffer, you donate!". If this sounds weird (a bit masochistic?) to you, please keep reading. What I am on about is the tradition whereby people sign up for a tough race, then set up a charity page on JustGiving, and say "please support this charity, because I am doing a tough race". I never quite understood the connection between the two, but decided to give it a go - if only to get rid of that new wave of LPS taking me over.

Thinking of a good cause to support was actually harder than I thought. It got me thinking about all kinds of stuff: how and where can you make most impact with donated money? What are charities really doing with the money? Should you support something super local and small, where people who donate may get worried that the project will fail? Or should you go for some established charity where your donation feels like a drop in the water?

My JustGiving page after the Triathlon - with the target successfully reached! Wehey!

I eventually decided to go for the "maximum impact possible". This meant finding someone enthusiastic, trustworthy and in the need of support for their charity project. And so I thought of my friend Ondro, former teacher of Teach for Slovakia who had not only plenty of experience with these kind of projects, but who also knew similarly minded people. And Ondro did not disappoint at all and linked me with Dominika - a current Teach for Slovakia teacher who was just raising money for her project: educational trips for underprivileged kids in her school. Perfect match!

A JustGiving page was set up, target of 500 GBP set, the news were spread. There was now no way back, and so it was, conveniently, around this time that the organizers finally posted the start time of the race: 6:30 am.

But, indeed, 6:30 it was. And so I braced myself for 3 more weeks of proper training, which culminated a week before the race, when I tried the whole Olympic distance in a "test mode": first the 1.5k swim in the pool, then 40k of cycling around the Bay (and admiring the posh houses by the barrage) and finally a 10k run along Newport road. Total time? Just over 3 hours! And although I was quite destroyed, it was "not too bad, all things considered" and I still managed to join Dan for his 100th park run the morning after.

Scenery during my test Triathlon - Cardiff Bay is indeed super nice.

And on the other side of the barrage... is the sea!

I realized that triathlon is a bit different type of race - you get to use different muscles, although the fuel is still coming from the same tank, so it's important to keep the tank supplied. At the same time, the race is more difficult technically and more things can also go wrong. For one, I never swum in the Bay and I knew that it would be a much different experience than the nice "deterministic" swimming pool, with its 50m length and a visual line to follow below. But also, there were other things to consider: Will the wet-suit fit? What if I get cramps in the cold water? How and where do I change to my cycling gear? Should I plan for a flat tyre?

Saturday, 22nd of June, day before the race. I went down to the Bay for the registration.

The day was (finally) stunning, with 20 degrees and sun and there was that enjoyable pre-race buzz in the air, with participants picking up their race packs, and families enjoying ice cream and strolling around the area. Always Aim High also prepped a special pre-race event for this day (at a special extra cost) which was all about trying out a swim in the open water, and which I eagerly signed up for, mainly to reduce the apprehension for the next morning's jump into that scary water.

The day before the race saw clear skies and 20 degrees

We gathered by the former Doctor Who museum in our wet-suits, like a bunch of confused penguins. Looking around though, I could not help but feel that everyone seemed to look like an experienced triathloner. I eventually started to chat to one bearded and guy, who - based on his appearance I was completely sure - had been through countless races, possibly even Iron mans... Funnily enough, it turned out that he signed up for his first one ever, and only as a reaction to a "great pub idea" with his mates (actually, all of his mates bailed out, so he ended up doing it alone :-)). His race was not even the Olympic one, but the Sprint version (half of my distance)! Thus a moral was finally learned after almost 30 years of my existence: don't judge anyone by their appearance!

An experienced-looking dude welcomed us and explained to us that he is experienced, thus establishing authority. Quick tips followed, such as how to acclimatize in open and cold water, or keep sense of direction, and soon we were splashing around, aclimatizing (read "complaining that the water is f***ing cold"). Our 400 meters test swim was then rewarded with the promised "goodies" from the organizers, which I had imagined to be a bucket of BBQ chicken wings, but which turned out to be a pair of socks. The try-a-swim event went well, the wet-suit was fine and the water was not too bad temperature-wise in the end (17 degrees), although that was 3pm on a sunny day, as opposed to 6:30am the next (cloudy) morning. But still, I left with high spirits, now really looking forward to the next day!

In the evening, I went through the final race prep - carefully thinking through each part: the equipment and energy supplies, the clothes, the race rules, route maps, bibs, chips and tattoos to apply. The dinner of cheese pasta followed to stock up on some carbs. My memories went to the first half-marathon I did in Košice, about 8 years ago, where a "pasta party" was organized for all participants. A nice tradition, one I would welcome for this race too. It just ain't above that pre-race banter, where all the pearls of wisdom are shared by the (surely super experienced) triathloners. But this time I had to do with my own private pasta party, and google-searching for some triathlon tips... :)

The alarm rang at 4:30 am and I jumped out of the bed. Breakfast of nuts, raisins and banana, a quick shower, packing the rest of the items and off I went to the Bay. I arrived to the transition area at Roald Dahl's Plass just after 5 am. The sky was cloudy, but rain was not forecast until noon, thus forming perfect conditions for the race. The participants were already streaming in from all sides and putting on display their (often) super fancy bikes - aero handlebars, eye-catching all-carbon designs and disc wheels (some of which can cost £1000 on their own!). I found my spot - number 665 - and parked my £120 second hand road bike (ok, with recent £200 refurbishment boost). I then set to prepare everything for the two transitions (swim/bike and bike/run). I was early, but I was glad to be early, and not having to rush with anything.

An actual pic from the race. Not myself - but the pic is depicting how seriously most of the participants took it!

Transition area around 5:30am, with most of the Olympic participants busily getting ready.

At 6 am, the transition was to be clear of Olympic participants and we all moved towards a small "beach" further down the Bay where the pre-race briefing was about to take place. Soon, however, the organizer broke some truly unexpected news: apparently, somebody was threatening to jump from a high building in the Bay, and police had to close off the area. As this included a part of the cycling track, the organizers had to quickly improvise. Eventually, it was announced that the cycling route is to be altered - instead of 3 laps of ~13 km, there was now 6 laps of 5 km, i.e. selling us a tad short of the full Olympic triathlon experience. Moreover, the race start was moved 30 minutes later, and so we all waited around in our wet suits for some action, staring at the cold and deep body of water in which we were soon to be immersed.

The first action happened at 6:45, when the final instructions were given and race rules repeated one more time. First wave of participants then slowly set off towards the pier, where then jumped in for a deep water start. 3... 2... 1... GO! And we all watched the stream of blue hats slowly moving towards the first red buoy.

The initial swim part took place in this water - starting around 200m from this point (at the left, close to the building with the curvy roof), following the buoys further into the distance before returning towards the platform at the end of the blue pier.

I was in the 5th, red-hat wave - one of the last ones (probably because of the conservative time estimate I provided when I was signing up) and so it was a good hour and half I was now hanging around in my wet-suit. Luckily, although it was cloudy, the temperature was quite agreeable 15 degrees, which was just about matching the water temperature. At 7:20, our turn finally came and recalling the advice from the day before, I straight away let the cold water in my wet-suit, to acclimatize while still being near the shore.

The whole swim was quite a surreal experience. I don't remember a lot, and it all kind of blended together. What I do remember is struggling to keep direction - every 10 strokes, I would stop stroking and look around to find out "where the hell am I", or rather "where the hell am I going", and then point myself to the right direction. It was slower than in the pool, and I would get overtaken, even by swimmers from the next wave. A swimmer would bump into me here and there. Some small waves emerged about half-way through out of nowhere and I would have the odd accidental sip of the (not very tasty) Bay water. I'd dig sea-weed with some of the strokes and thoughts entered my mind if there could be a dead horse somewhere deep below (just like, as legend has it, there is supposed to be one in Draždiak in Bratislava). But somehow, the finish-line platform was approaching nevertheless and soon I was helped out back on my feet, trudging along towards the transition. Ecstatic feeling, and not really too tired yet!

It can feel a bit as if you are learning to walk again after the swim...

Still, after the swim my arms were quite jelly and it took a while to take off the wet-suit and get on the bike (over 5 minutes in transition!). But if there is one moment I'll remember, it's what followed next. Still very much feeling like a sluggish fish that was taken out of the water, I suddenly joined the busy bike route with the fast and determined cyclists averaging well above 30km/h, swishing past me on their super bikes, spectators now framing both sides of the track and commentator voice booming in the air. Unique atmosphere!

So soon I shook off the swim mood and started to press on. The smart tactics of the organizers also did its magic here - after the buzz and urgency of the first couple laps, the fastest Olympic racers were off the route, to the final bit (10k run). However, the Sprint-distance participants soon joined the circuit and once again I was motivated to keep up with the true Ferraris of the bike population... Two energy gels proved just right for this part of the race and I was proud to see in my result times that I did the 30 kms under an hour.

The second transition was much quicker, as all I needed was dropping off the bike and grabbing a couple more energy gels. Somehow, though, after the cycling thrill and an hour in the same bent position, the running came difficult. I felt I still had the energy, but the body was aching with every breath. The worst came around 3rd kilometer, just after the turnaround of the first lap as I started to face the wind. The pain did not wear off until I finished the first lap, and only proper deep breathing eventually dissolved the knot above my hip. I washed down the 3rd gel and pressed on.

In a good mood and good shape, just after the start of the run. The pain came soon though.

The second lap seemed emptier, as by now, even the sprint-distance racers were mainly finished. Despite that, the last 2-3 km were the highlight of the run for me, as I finally tapped into my backup energy tank, no longer hindered by any pains. Past the Welsh congress and on to the last bit around the Welsh Millennium centre. End was near, and just as the finish line came to my view, I spotted Alex and Lena and their encouraging smiles and high fives gave me the final boost. And so I finished the Cardiff Olympic Triathlon 2019 in 2 hours, 33 minutes and 36 seconds.

Final moments and a high five from Alex

A bit longer than my usual swim time, and a sorter bike ride than originally planned (30km instead of 40, due to an incident on the track prior to the race start)

The run seemed to have been only ~9km eventually - somewhere the organizers did wrong measurements. I definitely felt too sluggish for this to be 10k!

The race was done, item ticked off the to-do, bucket and resolution list. And that was it.

When I came home after some proper post-race brunch and chat with friends, a thought entered my mind: "what next". But I knew that question. For it has been sticking around for a while now. And I knew that the answer to that one is not easy. I just kept postponing it, knowing it will catch up once.

So I guess, to end this post on a philosophical note, the answer the question "what next" would be: "whatever you choose to be next".