This is a guest blog from Woburn Coaching Community Athlete Jess Rushton:
I'm going to start the day before because that's when it started for me. Putting my swim gear and stuff for afterwards in one bag, my bike stuff in a second bag, and my run stuff in a third bag, then getting them to the right tent sounds easy enough. It wasn't. I basically wandered around for a couple of hours, then brought most of it back to the hotel with me in order to create maximum anxiety in the morning. Then it was out for pizza with Debb, Phil and Mart and home for an early night.
After a 3:20am get up and a very tense communal breakfast at the hotel, I arrived at the venue only to be directed to park about as far from transition as you can possibly get while still being on the premises. I waited for Debb, who then informed me she'd got the car park behind transition, despite setting off just behind me. I grumbled over to the tents, carrying all of the stuff I didn't leave yesterday, and found Debb. After chatting to a few people, a panic because I couldn't do my wetsuit up and a rough barefoot slog to the swim start – it was time to go.
I jumped into the water and started to swim and suddenly felt super relaxed. Usually, I'm too stressed about getting on the bike to enjoy the swim, but I can honestly say I really relaxed into it. I kept checking my watch and worried I was going a bit quick, but I held my speed and finished in 1:24. (I'd predicted 1:28 so I was pretty happy).
I was out and into T1, after a quick dash to the loo, changed and giving Katherine a big old kiss to the face (sorry mate), I was off for my longest ride to date. The first 60km was awesome – I even swapped out my water bottle from a volunteer while moving. That kept me buzzing for absolutely ages. I saw G and Sarah, then headed down the awful trunk road that connects the two loops. It was horrible. Two people had been knocked off, it was busy and hilly, and I really needed a wee.
I had been looking forward to Oxton Bank but when I got there, I was in such a tizz that I bottled it with about 100m to go. Luckily, at the top there was not only a feed station but also a Debb, which gave me a little boost. 20km later I came across the pirate feed station where a lady held my bike while I stretched my feet and looked at all their funny signs. "High 5 – £3". "Bike sale here at 3pm".
The trunk road back to the first loop was awful and I got a bit panicked by all the traffic. Luckily one stupid cow beeped at a cyclist, and it made me so angry that I powered up the hill back to where G and Sarah were standing. I used that opportunity to sort out my head and swap my bottles, and I was back off to the nicer loop.
I was happy to be on the final 60km, but when I saw Katherine and her gang of supporters at Car Colston, I completely lost it and cried for ages. The release was good. I headed back to the venue and, as we passed the stately home, I got chatting to another cyclist and we regaled how shit the main road had been and how we'll never ever ever be stupid enough to enter again.
T2 was pretty uneventful, and I was out on the run. As I was coming out I saw that my fellow Wakey lunatic Zoe Hilton had just made the bike cut off. She was absolutely ecstatic! I got a bit tearful and spotted her friend Sarah about 300m in front of me. To say that a sprint at that point in the race wasn’t ideal is an understatement but I caught Sarah and told her I’d seen Zoe. Sarah was relieved that Zoe had made it through, and we stuck together for a bit, seeing each other several times throughout.
The run was incredible. I loved the course. The atmosphere around the lake was amazing, the support on the river from other athletes and a couple of appearances from Phil was awesome, and the Wakey feed station were on top form. After my second loop, I saw that all my family had arrived. It was super emotional and made me just get my head down and smash the final lap so I could finish, and go and enjoy the achievement with them.
Coming up to the orange carpet with a fellow athlete, I let her go off and have her sprint finish. Then it was my turn. I couldn't believe I had done it. All the directional signs for the day had been bright yellow with instructions on. The final one up the ramp after the finish simply said, "You are now an Outlaw." I gave it a little tap as I walked past and wondered about the 87 mile journey back to where I'd parked my bloody car.
