Highway to Hell

Up early in the hope that early breakfast requests were understood. They were, and the tried and true toast, banana, honey and caffeine was what was going to carry me beyond last place.

Finding the stadium and the transition area are always a good start to the race. Baggage stored, toilets found and it was into the stadium for warmups. 8:06 am and the start of the race drew closer. I picked a spot at the back of the pack and before I knew it, we were off and running. 

Occasionally I would check the watch to see how my speed was, and each time it indicates not too fast, yet each km reading was fast, except for the 4th where I'm feeling that adrenaline run out and the 300m uphill kicked in.

It's good to find your bike in transition, and not hard when the front runners (everybody else) are long gone. Although a later check indicated my 2nd best 5km run time. I'm just chasing freaks of nature. Into the bike I eventually got and rode to the hill, which I had ridden days beforehand. Somebody has obviously made it bigger and longer since then. My left calf tightened. This was not good. I needed a finisher's shirt and couldn't be injured so soon into the ride. I guess I must have backed off a bit because two of the ride kms were slower than I could have walked. I was hoping for around least a drafting buddy from my age group. Nothing. I picked it up a bit, figuring that the turnaround point would make gravity my friend. Up in front, I thought I spotted a competitor. I closed in ready to draft.......and he punctured. Buoyed by the fact that I was now not coming last, I decided to keep my hands off the brakes for the whole descent. I passed an American 45 year old age grouper and averaged 36 kmh for the trip back to transition. 

What to make of the last run? Wow, the first 1.25 km was so very slow. I don't know how - the hill perhaps. American guy from the bike was in front and at the top of the hill. I must have had an epiphany as my last 1.25 km was 4m 44s - yikes! Where was that an hour ago? Self belief and fear can do funny things. Annette missed me finishing (I was running too fast)? but I smiled for every official camera pointed in my direction and am sure there will be a photo of me in full flight somewhere. I just hope it's not going uphill on the bike. 

Mixed feelings. A competitive PB for 5 km, that last 1.25 km was what I needed four of to keep up with the pack, a 1m 03s km on the bike descent (good thing I was wearing my brown undies). A lot of effort went into coming 37th out of 39, or maybe 40 if puncture guy didn't finish. Thanks to family and friends for listening to all those running and biking stories, for all the 10c cans and bottles, to the Mooebank physio, gym, Macquarie Fields massage, Annette for not noticing the growing amounts of bikes in the garage, the coaching staff and long distance psychological messaging, but most of all the Academy for this award.

It's an experience everybody should try. Will I try again? Maybe.

I got my finisher's shirt, a medal, a Powerade, and 2 cans of coke, which I'm sure totally compensate for all expenses of this trip. Netherlands next year? Qualifying will be soon.

Back to the Hotel where the local laundry had been used for the stinky clothes, then off for sightseeing. Another 12 km into the legs and the eternal search for a Spanish toilet, because every time I head out, I need one. Crisis averted at the 10 km mark. Pontevedra has at least five bridges - we walked over three of them and took photos of the other two. 

We watched the next races start, watched running and cycling and the misfortune of the runners who missed their turning point and added minutes to their times.
Tea and cake and Spanish chips for the walk home followed by a quick siesta, then dinner next door.  I had the lamb shank stew (meat and 1 veg (chips)), Annette the pork cheeks, see previous veg info, and dessert was had by all, as a Barcelona team, void of Messi, failed to score on the big screen above in the first half.
Oh, Highway to Hell was playing at the start of the race.

Where's the pasta?

A sleep in was rewarded with the kitchen running out of muesli, cornflakes and a variety of other essentials.
Today was a sightseeing, easy type day which started with climbing to the top of a church tower, climbing back down because the door at the top was locked, climbing back up when it was discovered that a woman at the top had been given the key (but wasn't sure what to do with it), and then going back down. GPS watch was excited every time another flight of stairs was recorded (but how does it know?). I believe that today marked the 1000th church we had been into during our European vacation with the Griswalds. 

Not sure what lunch was but it was probably meat and 1 veg, just like all the meals in these parts, and the veg is always hot chips......I think burgers may have been involved.
Then it was off to the stadium and transition to check in the bike and get some kind of idea of which way to run in and out during tomorrow's race, although I feel like I will just follow the guy coming 2nd last and hope he is going the right way.
Bike racked and it was off to the opening ceremony where I came to the conclusion that the Aussie Aussie Aussie Oi Oi Oi is redundant and we need to sing Khe Sanh or Evie, or other iconic songs. 

We marched through the streets to our adoring fans, watched an opening ceremony of dancing and acrobatics and then joined the long queue for our meals (1 complimentary, the other for 15 euros). A spoonful of pasta, a small slice and a soft drink later we were done and hoping the pasta would see us up the hill tomorrow.

At least it's not snowing

Having used Facebook to tee up a training ride, the first task of the day was breakfast. Another marathon done, it was off for the free massage I could get with the Hotel package, so long as I paid for the free massage on top of the Hotel price. I hadn't, but they sent me an email saying book a time, so I let English lady go to work on the ITB, achilles and back.
All done, it was then off to meet a never before met teammate to ride the bike course. Hail on the way to the meeting point was an omen. 

As we struggled to actually find the course, we were hit by more rain but persevered through rain, hail and not so much shine, up and down some pretty decent slopes. We actually rode too far, but exercise is good, isn't it. The 1 hour ride had taken 2, but we did return. Back to the rooms, dump the bike and off for a burger and coke, closely followed by a siesta. Woke up from siesta with a bad, good knee.

As most shops close at siesta time, we found ourselves waiting until after 8 to search for food. A succession of no seats available and a huge rain storm led us to a nice little place where ribs and salad and octopus were well appreciated. No dessert however, not sure why. Perhaps I'm in training.
Oh, also did a 10 minute run. 

Spain

There is always that one day in a holiday when the alarm is set for stupid AM and you have to get up. With 4 hours sleep and caffeine fuelled, off we set for the airport where for once I was not the one getting the pat down. Although we were there very early, we still only just made it to the departure gate on time. On to the flight and before we had time to have a proper sleep, found ourselves at the Santiago de Compostela airport. Luggage was there waiting and we departed to look for our ride. Seeing a man with a sign reading "O'Brien" (Editor's note: a Seinfeld joke - you can look it up), we followed him and headed downhill for an hour until we arrived at Pontevedra.
For a town that advertises themselves as car free, there sure are a lot of cars.

There was around a 4 hour wait until check in, which was just the right amount of time for the thickest hot chocolate in the history of delicious hot drinks. The added bonus was the churros and croissant that came with it, at no extra cost.

Back to the lobby we went, hoping that 2 hours would be long enough to rebuild a bike and get it to the bike mechanic on time. Both missions were not impossible, with the added bonus of the extra work that was done on the bike. Chain shortened, gears now smooth. Pity it gets put back in the bag straight after the race. Did we have lunch? No idea. Did we eat dinner at 9 pm because that is just after the restaurants open? Yes.

The waitress warned Annette that the meal she ordered was too big for one person, so we decided to share. Picture a medium large pizza tray. Picture a piece of crumbed steak with cheese and ham inside that struggles to fit on that tray. That was dinner, with fries and capsicum to at least make it look like we are trying to eat healthy. The fact that we had some chocolate dessert lava-type concoction, when totally stuffed, still puzzles me. Back to the room by 11ish, and still puzzled by the odd hours Spaniards operate to.

Last day in London

8 more miles to go with the car, or 1 hour in London time. Tank filled and car returned, we went our separate ways. Annette to museum, Harrod's and that sort of stuff, and me to the gym after a good rest in the lounge.

Reunited, we took the long (because luggage is heavy) walk, train, walk (extra as we went the long way), to Candi' s to cook dinner for the masses, watch their cat throw up, eat dinner and survive the crash to ground from the three-legged decorative chair that nobody told me about. Lionel Hutz will be in touch.

With the hour growing late and a 4am wake up call, we bid farewell for another year, got a much-appreciated lift to the station and gave thanks that at last there were lifts to carry the bike, bags and us, rather than the nightmare that is The London Stairmaster experiment.

Train to Gatwick, check in bags, bus to our hotel and the prospect of 4 hours sleep if we slept immediately.

The Cotswolds

Apparently the meaning of the Cotswolds is a place far, far away with scones, jam and cream. After a good drive (good drive in England is not wrecking the hire car), we (me, Annette, Claire and Jeremy) and about 20,000 other people, visited a place starting with B with a small stream and lots of old buildings (Editor's note: Bourton-on-the-water).

From there, Google maps tried to kill us through tiny roads, a local was upset with my parking, but there were more old cottages.......so I'm told. I was car sitting.

Then it was in search of the elusive, yet over abundant, scones. She came, she saw, she ate.

Then we, and the 20,000 other people, headed back to London, slowly.

With trains still stuffed due to trackwork, we decided to find an overnight parking spot in a nearby street instead of returning the car (not due back until 9am).

Chilli noodles to go with the chilli con carne I had for lunch (we had a nice lunch at the first place starting with B) was dinner for me. Goodbye constipation.

We had one job

Another early morning wake up to run the hills, but after syncing problems last night, my Garmin decided for me that it wasn't the watch to race in next week. It wouldn't keep kms or proper speed but at least the music still worked. Run done, it was time to finish the abundant food that our AirBnB host had left us.

We hit the road, this time in the car, and before we knew it, hit traffic. The GPS then diverted us into a tiny half a lane road which did beat the traffic but put my blood pressure through the roof as we encountered bikes, joggers and cars.

On we pressed to Canterbury where another church or two awaited. Being Easter Sunday we got into the cathedral for free.

With a family dinner looming, we continued driving down the highway in the sunshine, listening to the holy trinity of Evie, life couldn't get better.......until that moment at dinner where Riley asked if we had taken the photo of the Calcott sign. We had one job. Doh. (Editor's note: we had promised to take a photo at the namesake town of my niece - sorry Kate!)

A nice dinner was had with our English family. What made it more special for an addict like me was Pepsi Max lime, and strawberry on tap. With the Pepsi Max ginger purchased earlier, I had achieved the holy trinity of soft drinks.

A history lesson, and other stuff

Apparently the Battle of Hastings was all over the inability of William the Conqueror to find a parking spot anywhere near the vicinity of the new castle he was building. He fought some English dude, killed him, took his spot and called himself King of England. As for me, I just walked for 25 minutes to the castle after driving around the town unsuccessfully looking to park the Ford Focus.

Now let's travel back in time a bit, to that moment this morning when I set out for a 60 minute run. It wasn't until I had run a very comfortable first km that I realised it was very downhill, but would be uphill on the return. This pretty much described 10 km.

Back to the B and B where eggs and bacon and croissant and juice awaited. Thank you exercise.

So we did Hastings castle, back home for lunch and a perfectly made burnt toasted sandwich. They have given us so much food and it's bad not to eat it. I even worked out how to use the coffee pod machine.

Then it was off to Rye. Another day, another church.