It was the evening before the final Xosize Triathlon
Series Race of the season and I found myself nervous. I had started the season,
my first racing as an Elite, also nervous. But there was a difference. I hadn’t
minded what place I came in those first few races, I was simply desperate to
justify my place in the Elite field. That meant finishing within a respectable
margin to the leaders. That was all. But here I was, now finding myself nervous
about who was my greatest competition for the win. I had experienced what a
good race felt like, and secretly I wanted more.
My first season competing in triathlon “properly” can
essentially be divided into 2 chapters: Before FC and after FC. Of course, FC
stands for Falls Creek. When I look back at the season that was, THAT was when
it all changed. I’m not just talking about my end results, but it was how the
results manifested. I was racing with a completely different attitude. I was no
longer racing defensively (my only concern being hoping not to humiliate myself),
I was actually starting to believe I belonged (somewhere) in this sport. Something
in my mindset had evolved, and without me even realizing it.
I remember my first ride at Falls Creek. The ‘coach’ had
described what our first morning would entail the previous night. He made it
sound so easy. An ease in to camp if you like. My naïve interpretation couldn’t
have been more wrong. And what I didn’t realize that morning was that this
feeling would be revisited almost daily. As awful as all these reality checks
were, it made me realize something. It made me realize exactly how “green” I
was in this sport, but most importantly, it made me realize that I had so much
to learn and, hopefully therefore, so much to improve on. I realized too, that
I was maybe capable of more than my mind had previously allowed me to believe.
If someone had told me prior to Falls Creek that I could sit on my bike for 5
and a half hours, including an ascent of Mt Hotham, I unequivocally would have
laughed it off. My first Falls Creek experience had been nothing short of an
enormous eye opener and, therefore, it had been a resounding success.
Whilst Falls Creek instilled a small sense of “self-belief”
in me, I certainly wouldn’t go as far as saying I was now a “confident”
athlete. I don’t believe it’s in my nature to really be “confident,” and I
actually hope that never changes. In any case, I was quite surprised to be able
to string together 3 straight wins in the Xosize Triathlon Series for the Elite
category upon returning from Falls Creek. Each of the 3 races gave me some
encouragement but the encouragement came not at all from the end results
themselves.
The first win came on very tired legs following Falls
Creek. I went into the race having spent the entire prior afternoon in bed and
had woken with a bit of a sore throat. I showed myself that less than ideal
preparations CAN be overcome. I had a mental victory that day. It was one baby
step in the right direction.
The second win was an all-out bike race. I had exited the
water ahead of arguably the strongest rider in Victorian triathlon (and I would
seriously vouch for her strength against any short course triathlete in
Australia). Essentially, I waited for
her. I knew she’d come past at some point, and quite honestly, I needed to be
ready to get on her wheel when she did. Her strength was such that I knew we
could reel in the rest of the field and fend off any attacks from behind. But any
weakness and I’d be dropped instantly. I drank up, spun the legs, and primed
myself for the attack. From 5km when she caught me, to 15km, I was attacked
over and over again. It was more brutal than any crit race I’d done, but if I
could just hang on and take some turns myself (to preserve the friendship), I’d
be over the moon..…….and luckily I did. We dismounted our bikes in perfect
unison next to one another and ran into T2 side by side. For me, that was enough
of a victory there and then. The cyclist I was 8 months ago would have been
absolutely decimated, and the fact I wasn’t, well that was a win for me (and,
quite possibly, a small miracle).
The third win came about following my best swim of the
season. Normally the fields are relatively strung out and you see maybe 2
athletes, then another 2 etc. exit the water. But this time, there were about 5
of us out within 2 seconds of each other. For me, this was huge. I was actually
in a full-on drafting RACE.
Finally, my last main race of the season came at Port
Arlington in arctic conditions. Training had entered the
‘maintenance’ phase signaling the wind down to the season end and I was fresh.
I was too fresh and I felt flat and unfit (irrational after really only a week
of wind down, I know). If I had taken 2 steps forward in my swim the previous
week, then this felt like 100 steps backwards. BUT, I got on my bike and played
whatever mind games I could to drive myself through the roaring headwinds and
down the wide, baron (slightly boring?) country roads with barely a soul in
sight. Dismounting the bike, now in second place, I gave 2 and a half minutes
to an absolute class act of an athlete ahead. I was sure that’s where the
margin would remain. To my surprise (and apparently the officials too who were
quite perplexed as to where I’d appeared from), it didn’t. At the finish, I
came within a slightly frustrating 30 seconds after an hour and a half of
racing. But, at this stage, whilst I love to be able to stand on a podium after
a race, it really is the little things in a race that excite me …. Or irritate me.
To have such an underwhelming swim was a disappointment, but to not fall off my
bike on the seriously intimidating hill out of T1, was a huge relief.
Medals and podiums aside, I am just so excited to finally
be able to sit in packs on the bike, find feet in the swim (on good days) and
to be able to use my run from near the front rather than playing catch up from
behind. Things are slowly, slowly, slowly, starting to fall into place. But I’m
under no illusions that there remains a long, long road ahead. This season has
simply been a prelude to the hard work ahead, and I know that.
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