Transition was chaotic. More than normal. ITU officials confirmed the cancellation, but we were given no more information. It would be a bike-run starting sometime later that morning, nobody had a clear picture how the race would proceed. The morning was cold, it felt like winter outside the heated transition tent. Athletes crowded together waiting for some form of instructions.

I’d entered a triathlon, but would be racing a duathlon. It wasn’t what I’d expected, but not being swim fit I wasn’t too disappointed to lose the swim. I didn’t feel short changed. Whatever the reason for cancelling all any of us could do was race the course put in front of us.

At 7:45 we were called to our bikes and told to get ready for the start. Arranged in numeric order we queued behind the mount line, set off at five second intervals. It didn’t take long to reach the front and be on my way. Age groups were grouped by nation, all the 35-39 year old Brits set off in a block; five seconds after me was one of my housemates, Dave Francis, he came flying past in the first kilometer. I settled in, tried to control my heart rate and get into a rhythm, but the loop around the resort was a lumpy start.

The sun added a little warmth, but I needed the jersey and arm warmers I’d thrown over the top of my GB kit. There was a decent westerly blowing, nothing excessive, but enough to occassional twitch the front wheel. It ensured Lakeshore road was fast. I exchanged places with a few in my age group, falling back on the climbs and coming past on the flats. The 54 chainring was a bonus, but the 42 felt a bit much on some of the bumps. It felt hard, harder than in the week, negative thoughts filled my mind. I pondered retiring from racing (again!), wondered whether I’d been doing too much in the lead in (I had) and considered what it would take to abandon.

For fifty kilometres I was uncertain – I didn’t feel good and wasn’t happy with my race. I knew it was normal, I go through this most races, I just had to hold out. Sure enough as I turned onto Northshore Road I started moving through the field and my mood lifted. I kept in control, my plan was to push from the turn around and work the return leg into the headwind. Even so the slight gradients and the big gearing let me cruise through the athletes ahead. I turned and picked it up.

I knew there was the climb out of the National Park ahead of me and after a week of riding locally I knew how tough it was in a westerly; once I hit the base of the climb I dropped the gears and spun my way up. By now everyone was suffering, I continued to gain places. After a small reprieve we hit the Three Sisters – a trio of short, sharp climbs. Bottom gear again and out of the saddle, I hauled myself up and round stalling competitors. Then it was the grind, a gradual ascent that sapped tired legs. But I still had more to give.

I wanted the bike time so I pushed. I kept moving through the field, chasing athletes ahead well aware it was costing my legs. I have no run fitness, pushing the bike would make little difference to how I’d suffer later. I arrived in transition, sat in a chair and pondered the 30km ahead of me – I wasn’t looking forward to it. I hoped that like Challenge Henley my legs would work reasonably.

The run started with a downhill, lulling me into a false sense of security. It was short lived. After the turn at the bottom of the hill I slowed, hamstring and achillies tightened under the load and I struggled to the top. Again my mind became preoccupied with how I could abandon – I was torn between the fact I have never DNFed and the discomfort. I decided it would take a real injury and as the tightness in my legs had eased off that didn’t seem likely.

I counted down each painful kilometre of that run. The ones where I had stomach cramps and a stitch, and the ones when my knees ached from the continual pounding. I struggled through; walking aid stations and trying to keep the rest of the run controlled. A few words of encouragement from another GB teammate got me to pick up my effort 3km from the end and push the last stretch home. Driven by the desire to finish I found the energy to open up the pace.

Indifference best decribes my feelings to the day. I never felt at my best and whilst I know preparation was far from perfect I’m disappointed to yet again be racing poorly. Next year needs to be different – a return to form. No more racing until I’m run fit.

Once again I am a little under prepared. Excuses have been made, but I knew the race was coming. Failure to perform has been this season’s trend and I am unlikely to buck it. The broad plan is survive the swim, push the bike and hang on for the run. I’ll finish and put the year behind me; I’ll start thinking about 2012 and how I can ensure I achieve my goals. This is the last time I want make excuses and accept compromised results.

Swimming four kilometres will be a challenge. I lack the endurance. A shameful amount of pool time means I will be struggling by the turn around. I felt great for the first half of Challenge Henley and fooled myself I could handle an Ironman swim; two kilometres in my arms were gone. While I’ve spent more time in the water in the last fortnight than the month before it, I am far from ready for four kilometres!

The swim plan is simply to survive. I can hold a comfortable pace, but have no capacity to push for any duration. It’s far better for me to hold back, go steady and get through comfortably. Not necessarily easy, there’s no way it will be easy, but not chasing a time. If it can get me a better result than Henley I’ll be happy. All I want is to reach my bike ready to race.

At least I can ride. Despite the somewhat erratic training since Epic Camp I seem to have sustained bike performance. The power meter remained at home so it’s hard to precisely gauge, but I feel strong. The new bike rides well and the only area of uncertainty is my apparently elevated heart rate. I can’t say whether that’s a consequence of riding harder, the new position, conditions or perhaps lacking an edge in bike fitness; it doesn’t really change my race.

Pacing will be key. The course demands control and a managed effort – not spiking too much on hills nor pushing too hard on fast descents. The first stretch on Lakeshore Road is deceptive, it feels fast, but can lure you into working harder than you should. Northshore throws more challenging climbs at you, followed by a long drag to the turn around. I will be watching my effort until that turn, then the pace picks up; there may be a headwind, but I plan to push from that point on. The Three Sisters are a small pain, the overall ascent along the Mountain Trail is more significant, but the terrain suits me. Fuelled and paced correctly I can ride hard.

The real problem comes after T2. This year I have consistently run thirty minutes to an hour slower for Ironman marathons. At Immenstadt last year I averaged 4:16 per kilometre, recent training suggest I’ll be doing well if I’m within 40 seconds of that. I survived the marathon in Henley by not crossing five minute kilometre pace. It’s not going to be a fast run.

I am in Vegas, I could gamble, but the pay off at the Outlaw was my slowest marathon yet. Alternatively I could adopt the Henley approach and run at a pace I know will see me to the finish. The temptation to try for more is strong, there’s a degree of pressure and this is a World Championship. It’s only thirty kilometres and I’ve tended to suffer the most in the final 10K of marathons. I’m going to spread my bet. The first two laps will be controlled, the second two I’ll take my chances.

That’s the plan. Easy swim, hard bike, whatever comes on the run. I’m not nervous, I’m looking forward to the race; going hard on those roads should be fun. But this is the last time I make excuses or mention injuries. Next season I intend to be back and racing better than before.

The trip started with an early morning visit to Henderson’s pool, I haven’t managed an early swim in months back home, but with endless sunshine and the local facilities including a 50m outdoor pool it’s hard to resist. This week has been the kick start to my training I desperately needed; each day I’ve taken on a little more and seen small improvements. Too late to make gains before race day, but at least I know I can go through with it.

As a training venue what really stands out is the quality of cycling, the riding is amazing in Lake Mead National Park. Besides the scenery, roads are smooth and theoretically fast – except for the endless undulations and shifting headwinds. They mostly consist of long drags, slight gradients amplified by that constant wind. One moment you can be flying along hitting 50kph, turn a bend and you’re grinding out 20kph. Perfect conditions. I would be a strong cyclist if I only trained on these roads. For tourists they have a draw back – the constant temptation to stop and admire the views, our first ride was punctuated with pauses. I suspect if you live here the desert soon loses its charms.

Tourism has played a role – our first attempt to ride the course was diverted when we realised how close Hoover Dam was. The signs are deceptive and it remained five miles for several miles down the road. The additional climbing was worth it, adding another State to this visit and taking in the famous landmark. Good roads and a good backdrop for a camp. On out return we dropped the Northshore Road leg, unknowingly skipping the toughest section of the course, but the Three Sisters offered a final test. Three short bumps in the road, each pitched near 20%; not something you want to encounter on tired legs.

Silverman is not a fast course, it’s obvious you need to carefully pace the entire day. I’ve ridden every section of the course and know the challenges it presents – the drag out of Lake Las Vegas, faster down Lakeshore Road, the grind along Northshore, and the bumps of the mountain trail. Independently they each take their toll, together will be interesting. While my enthusiasm to race remains low I am keen to test myself on that course and see how well I can go. My legs are starting to feel good.

Having exhausted the course and with St. George, Utah being surprisingly close the house decided to test out the Ironman route. We loaded a couple of SUVs with bikes and took a drive up the I15, a long dull road only enlivened by the Virgin River Gorge through Arizona. The trip was worth it, the change of state brought a change of scenery, even more breathtaking than Lake Mead. We rode a single lap from the course; a subtle gradient carried us up 800m of ascent on the way out, but it was rewarded with a genuinely fast descent – I bottled out at 85kph as trucks came flying past. It helped ensure the day remained easy and none of us took too much out of our legs.

Ironman St George is definitely one for the Ironman to-do list.

After a week’s ‘training camp’ everyone admitted it almost seems a shame there’s a race, there is so much more we could take in. But we’re here to race and with registration opening today it’s time to wind down and relax. The GB Team should have mostly arrived so it’s also an opportunity to catch-up with a few more friends. I’m in two minds about race day and really don’t know how it will go. I’ll race it and see what comes.

And when it’s all done I can hit The Strip to celebrate, the perfect way to end a camp.

Checking results on Sunday morning I was pleased to see Nick Baldwin had claimed second in his age group with a time of 9:18:15. I’d met Nick in Hawaii the previous year when he had a solid debut. He wanted more and dedicated himself to improving, his goal was the age group podium. Following Nick’s blog there was no doubt about the commitment or the potential. His hard work paid off and he executed a perfectly paced race on Saturday.

He also logged it and was generous enough to send me his data to examine.

Swim

Nick doesn’t have a swim background. In 2010 he was a similar pace to me, but consistent training this year saw him out of the water in an hour; a good swim by Kona standards. While there’s no GPS or other data to look at, from Nick’s description it was a matter of controlled effort.

If one factor defines the day it was control – Nick was always working comfortably within his ability.

Bike

A text book Ironman bike. No spiking of effort, power comfortably within the cap and increasing over the ride. Nick’s tactics were similar to mine – hold back a little until Hawi, then on return to the Queen K lift the pace. In my experience many athletes push too hard to the turn around and struggle to sustain the effort back to town. Paced correctly you spend the second half of the race moving through the field. Not only do you gain places, but it’s a huge boost to morale.

Nick spent virtually no time above FTP, he rode almost the entire race at 70-80% of it. The most common mistakes I see in Ironman power files are riding too hard initially (see my recent Challenge Henley data for that) and spikes in power, particularly those crossing FTP. The former leads to an inevitable decline in performance as the race wears on, the latter can see a notable fade towards the end of the ride. Both drain the legs and if they don’t cost time on the bike they will on the run.

The final chart shows Nick quickly got his heart rate under control out of transition – the result of good pacing. The early section of the bike on Kuakini Highway is crowded, it’s tough to keep in control up this tough incline. There is a slight upward trend in HR and power over the 112 miles, nothing severe, but it shows how controlled that early part of the race was. Nick never worked beyond his limits and as planned was able to raise the effort for the retune leg.

I already mentioned jealousy – I am jealous of such a text book ride.

Run

In 2010 ! passed Nick about 10 miles into the marathon, it lasted for a mile before he came back. Shortly after Palani I started to fade on route to my detonation in the Energy Lab. Nick remained consistent and finished strongly, but he knew he needed more. One of his focusses for the season was improving his run. This year he stared with a goal of running 3:15, achieving 3:18 shows how carefully he paced himself.

The only change to Nick’s steady pace is when he walks aid stations, otherwise the consistency is impressive. Heart rate settles and holds steady from the start only rising as he lifts the effort towards the end of the race. Pace doesn’t change vastly, but at that point it’s often about being able to hold pace. Clearly Nick did – perfect execution that took him from third off the bike into second overall.

An impressive result from an impressively controlled race. To hold yourself back early on the bike takes discipline, but pays off. Nick spent a lot of time practicing riding above race pace, by race day he was confident he could easily handle the effort. He’s also been working to improve run performance with lots of consistent work to develop his marathon pace. It’s a step up, but running remains the area he has a lot to gain in. There’s ten minutes to the age group winner, something to target for next year.

Bike

I’d set an aggressive power target of 240 Watts, particularly ambitious given the recent lack of cycling. This number was my motivation, feel ultimately dictated my performance, but I was watching and attempting to hold that target. The first lap was easy – 240W was no challenge, but I would pay a price later on. Declining power and heart rate are a clear indication of fatigue – my legs couldn’t sustain the effort and intensity dropped. By the third lap I could only just hold on.

In view of my pacing targets and power caps it’s clear I pushed the first lap too hard. I didn’t cap myself, but drifted around 240W. Whilst spikes in power were minimal (out of the saddle efforts in the final lap produced more), the amount of time above my primary cap was too high. I knew I was pushing, but with my heart rate under control and feeling good I went with it. Perhaps with a better lead in I could have held it, but clearly the fitness wasn’t there. Had I genuinely capped my effort, I suspect my performance would have been even over the entire race.

Despite the decline I wasn’t overtaken, I suspect most people were suffering similar effects at those later stages. I was consistent, spent little time coasting, but used downhills for more recovery than I’d planned. Again it’s most visible in the final lap, fatigue sees me resting on the descents. Perhaps it helped save my legs for the run.

There is good and bad in this ride. In many respects it wasn’t a performance I’m proud of; it was painful and hard. I don’t know how well I would have performed after my usual taper, but I’ve no doubt that a month off significantly impacted my race. I made pacing errors though, I lacked the confidence to truly cap at my goal and tried to bank extra watts early on. You cannot bank watts, the cost of pushing early is too high.

Run

A huge surprise. After walking to a 4:10 marathon at the Outlaw I wasn’t expecting much from Henley. That lack of training would surely make me suffer and the way my legs felt coming into transition I couldn’t imagine running. I’d altered my race plan – aiming for a slower pace and short walks through aid station. Unlike the bike I stuck to the plan, as I chased someone out of transition I made the conscious decision to let them go. I pulled my pace down to 5:00 min/km and intended to hold it there.

That pace was optimistic. Throw in aid stations and a few seconds for walk breaks and the average speed drops. Then there are three notable breaks – two stops at Portaloos and a final walk break before the push home. Time lost, but each break left me feeling better able to run again; that final walk was added to help me finish strongly. An optimistic push at the 30km mark didn’t last long, but after the break I was able to lift my pace for the line.

Considering the near total lack of running in the previous month an improved marathon performance wasn’t expected. The pace was pedestrian, barely taking my heart rate to 135BPM, but it took its toll on my legs. Pains similar to the Outlaw were present, the consistent, slower pace made them more manageable. 3:45 for a marathon is a step in the right direction, even if I’ve a long way to go to my old form. Being able to do that on this season’s minimal running is a positive.

Before the race I commented that if I performed well this unorthodox taper would give me a lot to think about. I performed reasonably. I have no doubt not training for a month is far from ideal, it impaired my race day performance. I am surprised that it didn’t do more harm; there’s clearly a deep level of fitness that can get me round an Ironman in a respectable time. There’s probably room for me to do less in my regular taper periods. I need structure and training leading into a race, but perhaps not as much.

Overall – I badly paced the bike, started too hard and paid later. However my run pacing was on target and proved effective despite the poor preparation. I don’t need data to know the swim was bad and leaves a lot of catching up to be done.

This year was a break from focussed training, a chance to put my energy into developing my coaching business. Despite that I entered three long course races and frequently bemoaned a lack of improvement or results. Work has necessitated a more relaxed approach to my training schedule, in that regard my results have been good. Instead of judging myself against previous standards, I should remember the plan – I never intended to be at my best.

More importantly, I disregarded how good it was to be racing locally. I had numerous supporters on the course – friends and family. Every bit of support is appreciated, but being cheered on by people you know is that much better. For the first time my parents were able to see me race. Having that support made the day a truly positive experience whatever my result.

I will be revisiting the race, picking through the data and considering my performance – particularly in light of the disrupted lead in. That can wait, it was more important I keep perspective on the day. Challenge Henley wasn’t my greatest race, but it was a good day. I’m not a very responsive athlete, I have tunnel vision, but I did appreciate the support I received and it did filter through. What could be better than racing in front of my home crowd? I’ll have better races, but that’s an experience that will be hard to match.

Despite the interruptions of the last month I’m in no rush to return to training. Recover first and keep training in perspective. I’m taking a break and heading to Pembrokeshire for the weekend. It’s not a perfect escape – whilst there I’m going to check out the Ironman Wales bike course with a view to entering next year. The mountain bike is coming with me, but the heart rate monitor is staying at home. No pressure, just fun. Time to relax and not stress about fitness.

I’ll worry about the next race when I return.

A short delay did nothing to clear the mist, so we filed into the water ten minutes later than planned. In comparison to the bank the river felt warm. Relieved I swam to the start line and positioned myself mid field. Lacking confidence and unsure about the race I held back, unwilling to commit to my original, more aggressive plan. My mind wasn’t in the race and the conditions were doing nothing to improve it. I wanted the day over before it had even begun.

A whistle was blown, the front ranks started moving, the horn sounded in response – we were officially off. I found gaps amongst the swimmers and felt comfortable. I weaved my way from buoy to buoy, poor goggle choice and the mist conspired against me, but I was making good progress. Perhaps my doubts were unfounded. As time dragged this temporary positivity vanished, replaced with frustration and impatience, it seemed an age before the far turn point emerged from the mist.

The return leg should have been easier – we were swimming with the current. Instead I was swimming through treacle, being passed at an alarming rate, the flow of swimmers passing never stopped. I tried to dig deeper, but my lack of training shone through; I could bluff a kilometre, but 3.8K was a different matter. I plodded back to T2.

The slow pace carried into transition. A tent filled with freezing, confused triathletes struggling to warm up. Each of us putting on any extra layers we had; socks, arm warmers, a gilet – I wondered if I should have packed a jacket. I contemplated abandoning the race, but unwilling to quit my only hope was a mechanical on the bike. It was fine.

My mood lifted on the road, this season has turned cycling into a strength, I hoped it would show despite the terrible month before. The ride started well, I was rapidly up to speed and felt good. Familiar with my home course I was confident of my ability to pace it well – push a little harder on the hills and keep steady elsewhere. Fast descents gave time to recover and take in food. Everything was under control, though perhaps I pushed too much first time round, I promised to hold back on lap two.

Instead I pushed on, power was a touch lower, but it felt hard. My legs ached more than they should, was the lack of recent training about to bite? Despite the reduced output I was making progress and taking places – I may be slowing, but so was the rest of the field; all that mattered was I was slowing less. Holding pace through the second lap hit hard, I started the third in a terrible state. Negative thoughts remained – I wanted to stop, but couldn’t give up.

I struggled through the final lap. My only motivation was not being overtaken, but well aware I couldn’t raise my heart rate or match my early power it seemed inevitable. A moment out of the saddle warned me of imminent cramps; at the steepest point on Pishill I didn’t dare stand for fear I’d lock up. Unable to imagine running after this, I nursed myself back to T2. Perhaps I finally had a suitable excuse to quit.

Entering transition on auto-pilot, I changed shoes and headed out on the run. Despite everything that had gone I felt fine and had to reign myself in. I’d decided on a strategy of consistent slow pacing from the beginning. At the Outlaw my high placing in the field had spurred me on, the effort was unsustainable and ultimately I’d walked far more than planned. I didn’t want to repeat that experience, this time I’d run no faster than 5 minutes per kilometre.

The pace felt comfortable and my doubts finally vanished – one way or another I’d complete the race. My stomach had been unsettled most of the day, sick of gels and energy drinks I decided to switch to coke. I’ve always avoided it, the slightest hint of gas upsets my stomach, but I needed fuel. It worked, I could cope with the gas and the potent surge of sugar and caffeine lifted me. I ached, it was tough work, but I no longer wanted to abandon. Steadily I progressed through the field, like the tortoise against the hare.

Starting the final lap I pushed. If I could run 4:45 minute/kilometres I could make a 3:30 marathon. The fantasy lasted two kilometres – the risk of being reduced to a walk was too great. I eased back, returning to my plan, there’d be time to push when I reached the 40.5km marker. I was disciplined, continuing my final walk break as a couple of competitors ran by; a decent finish would bring them back to me.

With two kilometres to go I lifted the pace. It wasn’t spectacular, but I wasn’t slowing as much as the athletes around me. I soon caught one of my competitors, but the other was nowhere in sight. Forgetting him I maintained the pressure until I entered the finishing shoot. Just as I took the turn that second competitor darted around me having been sent the wrong way; I pondered a sprint, but lacked the competitive urge – I just wanted to finish. It transpired he was in my age group and bumped me out of fourth place!

Finally the race was over. The pain had stopped and despite all the doubts I’d finished. A month of poor preparation took its toll, but in the circumstances I’d performed well. Most importantly I’d paced a more respectable marathon, taking a step towards my previous form. I’m glad I never succumbed to the temptation to quit.

The truth is I had a bad race, preparation was poor and I was off focus. I know I’m capable of much better, but I’ve consistently failed to deliver. I can’t keep turning out mediocre race performances. This year has been productive in many areas of my life, but I’ve been coasting in training, relying on years of progress to shore up my results. I suffered in the swim because I’ve not trained; my bike fitness may be good, but once again I arrived poorly prepared; and I can make excuses about run injuries, but need to do the work to fully overcome them. I won’t take these excuses into next year. No more casual racing.

Challenge Henley was a superb event. I just need to be a better athlete. There are many positives from the day and signs of returning form, but equally much frustration as I’m still not there.

As usual signed up months in advance, the next season planned before the current one had finished. Henley was an opportunity to perform on home soil, with family and friends there to watch. Months of training would see me in peak fitness and ready to race better than ever. That was the plan.

The wait is over, Challenge Henley is a couple of days away.

A month ago I was in the Alps experiencing a new level of fitness; prospects looked good and I was optimistic. What followed was the subject of Monday’s blog – three weeks of fatigue and illness. Definitely not the plan. A peak of fitness, followed by three weeks off – where does that leave me? Confused. As I’ve recovered I’ve been testing swim, bike and run, the results are surprising. Sessions are short, but I feel fit and can work hard; I expected much worse.

I have to assume I am race fit. Sunday may find different, but there is no point planning otherwise. I’m approaching the race as if it is mid-August and I’m about to head to France – I can manage the swim, my cycling is better than ever and after months of problems my running is showing signs of improvements. My expectations are an average swim, an exceptional bike and then a cautious run. I believe I am better prepared than I was for the Outlaw Triathlon in July.

A good day in Henley will see me start the marathon near the front of the age groupers. A great day will see me hold that position through the run.

Swim

A short swim in the Thames has confirmed I still know what to do, but also suggests swimming fast will hurt. I have to accept I’m not at my best, I need a good start and a draft to get round in a respectable time. Placement is up near the front, rougher, but the best chance of that draft. Once the gun goes it’s a matter of hanging on for the next hour and getting myself to T1. Minutes lost due to lack of pool time should be easily regained on the bike.

Bike

Every kilometre of this course is familiar. I’ve climbed Pishill dozens of times in every condition possible. Whatever the weather throws at us I can handle; some wind would be good, a strong southwesterly would make the descents more of a challenge. A tough bike will favour me. I’ll be riding to power, looking to hold 240 watts throughout. A month back I’d be confident of this, now we’ll see.

Cycling has been my emphasis this year. I want to see the gains I’ve made. The marathon is going to be tough whatever happens, so I’m willing to stretch myself further.

Run

Running has been an unknown all season. At the Outlaw Triathlon the lack of consistency had a far bigger impact than I hoped – an hour spent walking. The situation has improved and had it not been for the recent interruption I’d be starting this race confident of a better performance. In the circumstances I am sure I can match it, but whether I can reduce that walk is a different question. I’ve learned from the Outlaw – I’ll slow my initial pace and put more emphasis on walk breaks. Steadily run 3K, walk for a minute; I’m not going to gamble on a miraculous 3:20 marathon at the risk of a 4:15, the latter wasn’t much fun.

My goal on the run is to manage it well, to be in control of my pace and carry that through to the end.

As plans go it lacks detail. My options are limited, most of the day is about working my strengths and managing my limitations. I won’t make predictions. I have no idea. I will race to the best of my ability and see what Sunday brings.

This time it’s different. This time I may genuinely be underprepared. The doubts have a basis in fact; they’re not driven by nerves – I’m surprisingly calm. I have no idea what race day will bring, but I know there’s nothing to be done now. The three weeks gone have been the worst this season, it would stretch credibility to claim I’ve trained.

Week one was expected. Following Epic Camp and the huge training load that entailed, a week off was in the plan. The fatigue was remarkable, my intentions to utilise the free time productively proved well meaning, but unrealistic. I slept, I ate and seven days later I raced. The National Relays were a mistake – seven days of nothing and then intensity, it was too much. One week of recovery was optimistic.

Week two I hoped to return to training, but the relays seemed to have deepened my fatigue. Normally a sprint would go unnoticed, at most a little soreness the following day. I was tired, motivation was low. Just as I seemed to be picking up I succumbed to the cough that had spread through camp a fortnight before. Tired and sick, I lost the remainder of the week and my morale dropped further. Two weeks of recovery was still acceptable.

Week three was an opportunity to put things back on track. I couldn’t build fitness, but I shouldn’t need to; I simply needed to get the body used to exercise again, rebuild some form. I tried. Motivation wasn’t there. Some days I felt drained, others ill, it seemed to be one or the other. No consistency, volume, or intensity. Three weeks of recovery felt like fitness was slipping away.

Which leads to week four, race week. Since Epic Camp I’ve averaged two hours training per week. Nothing. But this is the confusing part – when I have trained, I’ve been fine. Pace, power, heart rate, whatever the metric they’ve been good. The original lethargy has vanished, replaced with the aches and pains from unfamiliar actions. A huge weight of fatigue has been lifted from me, but I don’t know what it’s left behind. I feel surprisingly fit for someone who has done so little.

What can I do in race week? I’m so far away from any plan there’s no point trying to conform to a conventional taper; I don’t need more recovery. Rather than reduce the load, I’ll increase it – daily training to re-familiarise my body with exercise. What the last three weeks might have cost in fitness I’ll try to compensate for in freshness and form. I was very fit before this, it might just work.

An unintended tapering experiment. This season has already raised question about my training, particularly in the area of recovery. Three weeks of rest following the most intensive training block I can recall may be what was needed. The experiment concludes on Sunday and should I race well I’ll be pondering my approach to tapers.

These aren’t my usual excuses – I have no idea how I’ll perform next weekend. I’ll deal with the day as it comes. I have the fitness and the experience to handle whatever is thrown at me. There’s nothing more I can do, but execute the plan.

As the week came to an end my immune system gave up and I added an irritating cough to my ailments. I was the poorest ringer possible – in no shape to race, but the Police Sport UK team was relying on me to fill a gap. Not that I have strong connections to the police, a couple of athletes I coach and my brother-in-law are the closest I come to uniform. It didn’t seem to matter and I wasn’t worried so long as I didn’t have to deal with any rioting!

Commitment made I was up at 5:30 on Sunday ready for the long drive to Nottingham; after a week of lie-ins it was a shock to the system. I wasn’t filled with enthusiasm and found myself regretting volunteering. At least the motorways were clear at that time. Those initial reservations had vanished by the time I reached Holme Pierrepont. This was going to be fun.

The relay format is simple, but incredibly chaotic. All four members of the team swim, then all four bike and finally all four run. Short bursts of intensity with long breaks in between, the exact opposite of my preferred format. I was concerned I wasn’t the right choice for the race, but the team was relaxed about the competition. We were winging it. There was uncertainty as to how events would run, but as third man I could watch what the others did.

We wandered down to the swim start to see our lead man, Andy, off. I paid close attention to the first change over to fully appreciate how disorganised it was. The challenge in transition was finding your team mates amongst the sea of Orca and Blue Seventy wetsuits. Our second man, Neil, had an old suit with distinctive yellow logo which made him easy to spot. When he exited the water I ran forward, grabbed the elastic band (the baton) and dashed into the water.

It was just over a week since I’d last swum, but in the excitement I felt great. This was different to my usual races – swim as hard as I could for 500m, then rest afterwards. I kept the pace up, but lacked the sharpness of regular swim training. In no time I was exiting the water and yelling out for Carl, our fourth man. Once I’d handed over the band I walked back to the expo to wait for the next stage.

The wind was picking up and clouds blocked out the sun, in my wet tri gear I reflected on how experienced relay racers used different kit for the swim. New to the game I spent the hour between events shivering, trying to find shelter from that cold wind. It wasn’t ideal preparation for a bike time trial, my legs were freezing as I waited for Neil to complete his final lap. The second the elastic band was on my wrist I was off.

The start of the loop round the lake was with the wind, speeds were high. It was obvious my legs didn’t have much in them; whether from the cold start, or more likely the ongoing effect of Epic Camp, they were not going to perform. I pushed to get the most I could, but watched my power with disappointment. It felt hard, heart rate was up and I was producing fewer watts for the distance than I manage in training.

Turning into the headwind was tough going. It was disappointing to see the number who considered drafting acceptable along this straight; a few of the top placing teams blatantly sat on wheels. I just held whatever pace I could and tried to ignore the pain in my legs, reminding myself it would be over in no time. Just suffer the headwind three times. It wasn’t long before I was back in transition and handing the band on to Carl.

The hardest part of waiting is the fear you might be late. I headed to the final transition too early, Neil was still there. As it was he put in a fast 5K so I didn’t have long to wait after he left. Again my legs had nothing. No soreness, but when it came to pace, the top end was gone. I pushed myself, especially during the final two kilometres of headwind, but this was unexceptional racing. Once the band was on Carl’s wrist, my job was done.

Carl closed well bringing the team in with a total time of 3:25. In the top thirty, but losing out to the Police Sport UK vets. Not that we were concerned with time or placing, it had been fun. I checked my results and was disappointed by what I saw – wrong distance, wrong time. I will be back though, probably in a team I actually belong to and hopefully with a little more zip in my legs. The relays were too much fun not to try again.