Weymouth Middle Distance Triathlon is one of my faves. It’s always a toughie as the sea - which looks like glass from the shore is unpredictable and the bike is hilly and the unshaded run is almost always hot. But I love it. It’s a good test of training and mental resilience. And of my ability to eat 4 gels without crying. Note: last year I failed at the not crying. But I DID eat the gels.
This year, though? My swim and bike fitness have taken a slight knock. And by knock, I mean they’ve packed their bags, left a note, and haven’t been seen since last August. I’ve been running instead. It’s simple and it doesn’t require lugging half a garage of gear every time I travel for work. Trainers and go. Perfect.
As a result, Weymouth triathlon despite looming ever closer, was never really on my planning radar except all of a sudden it was here. And so was I. With my bike which had been sat on soft tyres and my wetsuit still hung up from the last open water swim.
There had also been a stomach upset issue for a few days on the previous week. I’d had a beautiful test run in Weymouth on the Saturday but things didn’t feel right. The views were lovely but my tummy was grumpy. I decided to call whether I did it or not on the morning, with the decision already made about dropping it down from middle distance to sprint distance.
Doing a long event when you're not feeling 100% or on not enough training isn’t being a hero, it’s being a pillock. I don’t want to be a pillock so a short swim, short bike and a 5km run sounded like more manageable distances. I reckoned I could get through an hour or so of a triathlon without incident.
But waking up at 0500hrs on the morning of the race, I wasn't feeling it. I get excited before my events, but I was dreading having to get into the sea. This wasn't like me, so I made the decision to skip this one.
Triathlon will wait. There will always be another one.
So instead, I went on an ADVENTURE RUN!
Because if things went horribly wrong mid-run, I could always call a taxi. Whereas in the triathlon, I couldn't exactly hail an Uber from the middle of the bay.
Armed with my very reliable (cough) Garmin, I plotted a route through all the places I fancied seeing. I ran along Weymouth Promenade, picked up the Rodwell Trail (a gorgeous disused railway path), past Sandsfoot Castle and the Dripping Well, across Chesil Beach to Portland, then hopped onto the South West Coast Path for some gorgeous but brutal running.
I ran through Tout Quarry Sculpture Park, where Old Roy—an enormous stone creature with stone eyeballs woven into his fur (an old Portland legend) almost made me jump out of my skin.
Then, the route popped me out by St George’s Church — a disused, beautiful church built of the grey Portland stone. I wandered around the gravestones and found the bomb crater which had been turned into a memorial of the headstones destroyed by the bomb.
I still wasn’t feeling 100%, but there were no pace goals, no finish lines to chase, just curiosity and sunshine. I even stopped at Portland Museum and spent a happy hour looking at shipwreck artefacts and dinosaur bones. You don’t get that in transition.
From bramble patch to prison and I passed the famous grey stones of Portland prison, then descended what might actually be the steepest hill in Britain. My quads are still holding a grudge. At the bottom, I chatted with a lovely local runner around the marina who was flying along and I carried on exploring.
Then I got stung by a bee on Chesil Beach (not a euphemism). It was breezy, it panicked, I panicked, it ended up in my top and someone got stung (me). I felt a bit bad. I like bees but it had stung me before I had even realised it was trapped so didn't have a chance to rescue it.
Sorry bee.
I stopped at the Dripping Well, where the sunlight slanted through the trees and the drops of water glittered in the light. It felt peaceful. And magical. And I felt slightly less sting-y.
Sixteen miles later, I rolled back into Weymouth. Tired, sun-kissed, salt-sweaty and absolutely chuffed. I met Mum and Auntie Jen at the beach for a cider and an ice cream, like a true athlete. Fuelling, innit.
Moral of my story?
Listen to your body. Don’t be a pillock. And sometimes, ditching the race number is the best race day decision you can make.
Triathlon can wait. But adventures? They’re always ready when you are.
NOTE: I'm lucky enough to have been approached by ADIDAS who have invited me to be a part of their Blogger Community. This means I get to link up with other like-minded bloggers (which I take to mean other snack-obsessed runners) and they give me some ADIDAS vouchers to write my blogs … which I do anyway! Sounds like an absolute win to me!
I'm doing nothing different except adding some links to ADIDAS kit that I'm looking at getting with my vouchers and which I think you might also like!
If you want to take a peek at the kit, the links are here:
Women's Kit:
Men's Kit:
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