Wednesday, 27 June 2012

My Marmite

I believe I spent the majority of my last entry marvelling at the benefits of hindsight, arrogant with its delayed intuition and wisdom. I seemed quite at one with it. I’d found peace with its notion and seemed to have accepted that it would always follow me around, normally a few paces behind, but always there, ready to pat me on the back and flash me it’s ‘I told you so smile’ when things didn’t quite go to plan.

And alas, here we are 4 months down the road, and I’m once again humbled by Mrs Hindsight. I’ve decided it’s definitely a woman; women are always right!

The start of my 2012 season couldn’t have gone better; the South Africa ‘headache’ aside.

In April I headed out to Sydney for round one of the 2012 ITU World Triathlon Series.
Marvellous you say; Leeds to Sydney; 33 hours!! My body disagreed. If I'd have known I wouldn’t have gone... 

Well that’s definitely a lie as Sydney might now be my new favourite place; it’s funny how the outcome of a race can determine your perception of a place;

Hong Kong. Puncture. Not so keen.                                                                                          
Sydney. 11th in a World Series. Better than Orange Wednesdays and 2-4-1 dough balls at Pizza Express.                                       

I still find it hard to believe that I finally managed to have a disaster free race (fat lip from swim fight discounted) and the fruits of a winters labour paid dividends. It was quite surreal running past former World and Olympic champions; I was convinced it was all going to go wrong at any given minute. I was overly cautious around water stations (Lausanne. Rogue water bottle. Damaged ligaments) and made sure no Eastern Europeans were anywhere near my ankles (Cape Town. Czech. Concussion). I breathed a sigh of relief every time I finished a lap and was in a daze for at least an hour after the race.

Then reality hit me like a runaway train; post race fatigue and nausea kicked in and although I was told by everyman and his dog (a talking dog amazing I know!!) that I should be out celebrating, me and Blake, my trusty Specialized steed, went for a well earned lie down instead. Rock and Roll I know.  

Next followed a 21st at the second World Series race in San Diego. Via a cheeky race in France of course. There’s always a via in there somewhere. And that’s probably my problem. That’s probably where my current predicament stems from.

Ever since returning from America I’ve been tired.

Cue Justin Timberlake’s ‘Cry me a river’ on a very small violin. Thank you. I really do appreciate the sympathy.

But honestly, I’ve been exhausted. After a few weeks of lying around wondering what on earth was wrong with me hindsight came along and gave me a sharp slap on the back of the head.

After some quick calculations with my trusty abacus it dawned on me. I’ve boarded 19 planes in 2012 alone; visiting 4 different continents in the space of a month. I’ve raced some of the biggest and best races of my life. And all off the back of my hardest winter of training to date.

My body was throwing a full blown tantrum. Its toys were well and truly out its pram. Hindsight was laughing in my face.

But this time it actually reared its ugly head just in time. A little late maybe, but this was definitely a case of ‘better late than never’! Yes I have spent the majority of last few weeks in bed. Yes there have been tears of frustration at being told for the hundredth time that I must rest and that no you can’t go to this race, or that one in fact. But, if hindsight hadn’t of come along when it did I might have forged on despite all the warning signs and that terrible word ‘chronic fatigue’ might have been gracing the title of this blog instead.

So hindsight you’re my bloody marmite. I can’t decide whether I love you, or hate you. But at least you’re always there to tell me where I’ve gone wrong.