Bricking It....

Bike – 10.23 miles/ 36.07mins

Run – 10mins

Yesterday I laid my first brick. Of sorts. I’m at the stage of training when I’m doing two sports back to back during one training session – a ‘brick’ if you will.

I’m using a brilliant training guide I downloaded from here: http://www.trinewbies.com/tno_trainingprograms/10wtp.pdf

It’s suggested that when splicing two disciplines together for the first time, to take it easy – 30 minute bike ride, followed by a 10 minute run. Then prepare for the assault on your legs....

The cycle part was great. Feeling more confident on the bike, I can now do things like lift my bum momentarily off the seat in anticipation of a pot hole I can’t avoid. I also feel brave enough to take a nanosecond peek over my shoulder to check for traffic behind without weaving into the path of on-coming vehicles. Car drivers also appear to be taking a wider than normal berth as they overtake me, perhaps sensing that from my jerky, jagged rotations and the cranking of my gears, I’m either new to the art of cycling or perhaps, drunk. I don’t bike pretty I suppose but then I’m not here to win a pageant. And somehow or other, I am managing to get from A to B, even it is via M.

So I figured I was brick ready. Yes, my thighs and quads protest after a ride but surely once I was a few minutes into the run it would ease off?

Not so. After cycling back home, I levered myself off the bike, dumped the helmet and began to move my legs in a running motion. They were frozen, like they were moving in slow motion. I willed them to pump, felt my legs rise and fall, rise and fall, was aware of feet pummelling the gravel but I wasn’t moving anywhere fast and had little sensation. Where was the speed? The running style? I felt like my feet were turned out, that I was doing a Donald Duck impression in neon Lycra.

I ran back the way I’d cycled, passing two gossiping dog-walkers I’d rode past just minutes before. Pausing, they regarded me with sympathy and incredulity while one of the dogs nonchalantly peed against a tree. So much for my drum-roll moment...

The heart and lungs were coping – they were working hard and handling it. But the legs had no fluidity and just couldn’t find rhythm. Every lurch forward was an extreme effort. I kept going of course, refusing to walk. I made myself waddle down a hilly stretch before turning round and grinding back up again.

Checking my watch, 10 minutes was up. I’d done it. I savoured the five minute walk back home, felt sensation trickling back to muscles and enjoyed the cool evening breeze on my face. I realised I never get a chance to just walk anymore and collect my thoughts. Walks with my children are stop/start/stop dawdles, prodding stuff here, plopping pebbles in puddles.

For the first time I actually thought I can do this. Yes, I’m worried about so many aspects of this event - not least the transitions. But yesterday I realised I was truly capable of it. I can meet this challenge.

Who knew bricking it could be so strangely satisfying?....