As published in the May edition of Sport Elizabeth.
It’s 10pm on Friday 23 April 2010. I am terrified. I can’t sleep. And not because I’m alone at my flat, hearing strange howling noises in the passages. I’m used to that. I’ve put it down to the wind. It’s great living in Port Elizabeth because unexpected, sudden noises don’t even stir us. “It’s just the wind,” we say. Then we roll over, grab the duvet and drift off again.
Wait, where was I? Oh yes, I am terrified. Ok, for two reasons, admittedly. One because I have my first Sport Elizabeth deadline in about 65 hours or so, and although Daron’s a great bloke, he doesn’t strike me as the kind of Mann I want to find myself facing on the dead side of a deadline, empty handed. The other, probably more pertinent reason is because in about 10 hours from now I have to be amphibious. It’s the Vodacom Corporate Triathlon Challenge powered by Algoa FM, and I’m doing it – all three legs.
Let’s go through it one by one: 380m swim. Come on Rory, it’s pretty much once around the Westbourne Oval. What? The Westbourne Oval? Swimming? In the sea? At 8am? Ok, relax, all you need to do is follow the crowd, and reach the sand again in one piece. Easy, right? No, thanks for trying, but I’m still terrified.
18km cycle. I haven’t ridden a bicycle in about 2 years. But I do have a really fancy one, on a sponsored loan from Wayne Pheiffer Cycles in Linton Grange. But still, 18km. That’s 9km, twice. I wonder if I ask really nicely if they’ll let me do it just once.
4.2km run. Now why is it that the part I feel most confident doing is right at the bloody end? But then again, a 4.2km run is not just a 4.2km run after a 380m swim (in the sea) and an 18km cycle. But still, I reckon if I somehow get this far, I’ll be home and dry. Even if I have to walk it.
The reason I am doing all 3 legs this year is because last year I only did the swim leg. I came out of the water rushing on those lovely things called endorphins plus a good, solid dose of adrenaline. And I had nothing to do with them. So I passed the electronic tag to teammate, Algoa FM Managing Director, Dave Tiltmann and ran in circles for 10 minutes. I’m surprised the organisers invited me back. So I thought this year instead of running in circles like a dog chasing its (usually non-existent) tail, I thought I’d put that adrenaline to good use. Let’s see.
It is now 22:45 and I really need to go to bed. I am sorry to keep you hanging, but if I survive tomorrow’s silly shenanigans, I shall be back to tell the tale. Good night. Here goes...
Woohoo! It is just after 11am on Saturday 24 April 2010. Before I even start, I am going to apologise in advance in case I start typing really quickly and you struggle to keep up. It’s these bloody endorphins, man! Where do they hide when we’re not putting ourselves through hell to wake them up? Ok, focus. Let’s do that ‘one by one’ thing again:
380m swim. I am not going to lie. It was terrifying at first. But, while we were waiting on the sand for the dreaded starter’s gun, I looked around for all the ‘unfit looking’ people (no, I did not say ‘fat people’; stop putting words in my mouth) and told myself that if they could do it, surely I’d have no problem. It helped a bit. The water was a chilly 18˚C and the sea was rough. I finished it. But if I said I swam it, I’d be lying. I pretty much floated it. Yes, I was a floater. I threw in the odd doggy paddle now and then, but I was not racing anybody. Time: 00:16:06.
18km cycle. I spent a few minutes composing myself in the transition area while I ‘metamorphosised’ from tadpole to frog. I had a shot of energy gel that tasted like blackberry toothpaste, grabbed my helmet, my fancy bicycle, and I hit the road. I was feeling good. I kept telling myself that the worst was over, although I knew none of it was true. The worst is never over until you cross the finish line! The cycle leg was a lot further than what I had anticipated. The scariest part for me was the almost silent, soft swish as the seasoned cyclists slip-stream past. You don’t hear them, and then all of a sudden they whizz past, almost brushing against your bicycle. But, despite all of this, I did it! All 18km of it in 00:48:33.
4.2km run. The worst part of the run was landing on jelly when I dismounted the bicycle. No, really. I thought I was going to land flat on the tarmac. I don’t know how I didn’t. It took me around 5 minutes to regain the strength in my legs. If I was Italian and for some reason spaghetti (just go with this), I’d describe my legs as al dente. Yes, that sounds silly, but it’s these bloody endorphins. Other than a short stop to stretch my ‘on the verge of cramping’, and in my case appropriately named left ‘calf’ muscle, the run went as well as I had expected. And then, all of a sudden, guess what. I did it. I crossed that finish line in 23:14! Pure ecstasy. My official time: 01:27:54. Result! I would have been happy with double that!
Of the other lunatics from Algoa FM who did all 3 legs on their own 2 legs, Dave Tiltmann’s time was 01:27:43, while the father and son duo of Chris and Damian Wright finished in a very tidy 01:09:08. Nice work, boys. That was absolutely fantastic. See you next year.
The bug has bitten. Next stop: 70.3 in East London. There, I said it. I think I’ll train for that one though.
