Stub It Out.....

Well, things have certainly moved on a pace since my last Blog.

Having overcome the hand injury, I decided I needed a fresh injury to keep me on my toes... and as luck would have it a little Middle Distance Triathlon at Bala, North Wales provided the vehicle.

Met up with TOAH and loads of other Pirates (Yaaargh!) on Saturday and headed out with TOAH for a bijou jogette along the run course. Ate, drank and engaged in merriment during the evening, then settled in for an interrupted nights sleep. Eventually woke on race day feeling totally (un)rested. Got marked, entered transition, and awaited the call to swim. Entered the water and wondered where the 15.3 degrees temp had been measured from! Feet and hands numb, pseudo ice-cream head, line up was called by the starter then hold the line, then go..........

Swam, got out, staggered a bit, transitioned, biked, returned to transition, noted calf very tight; elected not to run for fear of further injury. Showered, changed, drank coffee, went home, wondered why the toe on my left foot felt sore. Went to sleep.

On waking, I was rather surprised to note that my toe still hurt and was a glorious deep purple; smoke on the water? well it certainly wasn't a heat haze. Visited the Doc and was informed it was highly likely I'd fractured my toe. That's ok I thought, could be worse, I could be training for a running race... doh!

Still not sure how I fractured the toe; most likely during the swim either kicking a stone, or stubbing it on the way out. Anyhow, bruising and swelling has started to go, and I've planned my 'alternative to running' training plan. But, no point dwelling on the past, it's time to stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, disguise fair nature with hard favoured rage..... and to quote the famous Monty Python feel good song

Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam.......

and so, as I look outside I note the sun is out, the sky is blue, it's time to go for a bike ride, unless the toe hurts; ok perhaps it doesn't scan correctly (or rhyme) but I'll work on it... I'm sure there's a song in there somewhere.

All right, lads, Leonardo da Vinci's painting the picture

Laters

Atomic Hamster

Self Preservation Society

Just under 12 weeks to go until we're doing our best Kate Bush impression and all is not well in Team Disaster Area.

We've been to Bala for the middle distance tri, a fantastic weekend away in good company, with a little race thrown in. We managed a little jogette on the Saturday, averaging 9:30s for 10.5 lumpy miles of the run course while taking it nice and easy. After all, we were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off.

Your correspondent woke promptly at 0230, taking his celtic location a little too literally by being at home to Mr Dai Orrhoea. Our good mate GOM was suffering similarly but made the sensible decision not to start the race. I, erm, didn't.

Racking? There was a Checkpoint Charlie, he didn't crack a smile. He told me my helmet strap was too loose. I tightened the fastener at the back of my helmet to lift it up a touch. He was happy. I think the other six were having breakfast. Hi ho. I racked the bike and loosened the fastener off again. Does he not know how many bikes I've crashed and never lost my helmet once?

The swim went OK; out into the stony waters of Llyn Tepid, the buoys are back in town, pass them muchly on the left hand side, I'm here for a long time not a good time.

Got out of the water, I should've walked away...but there's no danger, it's a professional career.

Onto the bike and up the hills. Can't eat, can't drink, what can you do? Oh, I just died on my arse tonight, must've been some kind of bug. Sat up, toured in, got off, packed it in. Be a good soldier and die where you fell. Not my A race...

When your thyroid doesn't work, you rely on taking a couple of pills each morning to keep you awake. Forgetting to take these on race morning doesn't even scrape into a list of my Top 10 Best Ideas at number 10. Go back to zero, take a pill and get well.

I'm out of Ironman Germany. I'm still going out to support, leaving Jeff Vader to house-sit. I'm as partial to a nice sausage as the next Kenneth Williams. I want to watch Mouse cross that line. I want to take the pee out of Wickett's shaved legs. I want to see GOM finally ride that bike in anger. I'm going to spend large parts of the long weekend running with Dave...

except, remember the stones at the bottom of Llyn Tepid? Dave seems to have broken his toe on one...

Building a henge, are we? That's a fantastic idea...

The Other A-H