DAY 1-
Arrived at training camp late morning, and was taken to a villa near Pinoso, Alicante.
Sun was shining, and I was happy in the knowledge I had a whole week to relax and have fun. As well as training obviously.
My bike has never been abroad before, and dismantling it was a whole new experience for me. But not as much as the experience of trying to put it back together. So I did what any self reliant, confident, modern woman would do and acted all pathetic until a man came to help me.
It's amazing.. you just let out a few sighs, say how you haven't got a clue which allen key fits what and look all dejected and they appear by your side to help! It's great! Not that I had to pretend. I really didn't have a clue which allen key went where.
By the time we'd all got unpacked and built the bikes it was time for a quick run before dinner. Apart from me obviously, because I'm still not supposed to be running. So I thought I'd be all dedicated and go in the pool instead. I dipped my hand in and it felt cold, but I didn't think it'd be that bad..
wetsuit on, walked in... my god, it was like stepping into a freezer. When you wear a wetsuit and you first get in, you get that horrible feeling as the cold water sloooooowly seeps in through the zipper.. and you try to ignore it.. then you duck down a bit and it all goes in where the neckline is... aargh.. horrible. I tried putting my face in and instantly gasped and lifted my head up, it took my breath away. Up and down and up and down I went, doing a kind of weird floating bobbing breaststroke thing, until I was brave enough to actually swim properly.
Eventually managed a few lengths, but couldn't do more than 75m without stopping for air. It was THAT cold. After about 45 minutes I couldn't take it anymore, and got out. At which point a few concerned faces of those sitting on sun loungers around me pointed out that I looked very blue.
I couldn't answer because I went into an uncontrollable shaking fit and ran to have a shower. Passing the mirror on the way I saw my reflection, and I was indeed quite blue. I stayed in the shower for 20 minutes. When I got out I looked at the thermometer in the water. 12.7c. Chilly. Very.
The rest of the evening was spent just chatting and lazing around, then it was off for an early night ready to set off on a cycle the next morning.
DAY 2-
We set off at around 10am for a ride. The weather was beautiful, and the scenery stunning. After 35 miles we stopped for lunch. We found a place that was called ''Pizza and Pasta Cafe'', so far so good. After sitting down and having rather a confusing conversation with the owner, we found it was actually an indian restaurant. Mm. Nevertheless, he seemed enthusiastic and said they did pasta as well. We all ordered, and waited. And waited. And waited. Annnd waited. An hour went by. An hour and a half. Everyone knows that triathletes love to eat. And we were all starving and starting to get edgy. Two people went in separately to ask when food was going to appear. Yes, we're on the continent, but surely this was taking the laid back lifestyle a little TOO far?
When plates finally started appearing it wasn't much better... I eagerly awaited my pasta with ham and mushrooms, but what appeared was a tiny portion of pasta with a single mushroom and even less ham. And it was cold. Lovely. But that was nothing compared to what my buddy sitting opposite got! A plate of about 6 pieces of thinly sliced cheese. I took pity and gave him some of my pasta, so we were both still hungry! Haven't a clue what that was all about. Maybe they had to grow the food before they cooked it.
After the meagre meal, it was time to leave to get back. All in all we did 70 miles, that's the furthest I've ever been. I was ok, legs felt fine, but the same couldn't be said for my bits. After being on that saddle all day the burning was indescribable. Made it a priority to get a womens saddle as soon as I got home. Been saying that for the last 6 months, but I really mean it this time. Luckily the pool was so cold, because I used it as an ice bath.
DAY 3-
Day 3 was another cycle, but shorter. We did around 45. I was in a lot of pain, and kept having to stand to relieve pressure. We stopped in the local town for lunch. As we set off again, I went to clip in, and my foot slipped on the pedal, and I went bang, straight onto my already delicate bits, straight onto the crossbar. The pain shot through my whole body, and my eyes instantly filled with tears. Ooouch. After being crouched over for several minutes trying not to be sick, not wanting to look like a wimp I pushed on, but it had actually made me feel very nauseous, and I was quiet on the way home, having to focus on just turning the pedals. Back in the ice bath pool I went, this time in an even more dignified position with my legs spreadeagled. Heaven knows what the locals passing by thought I was doing.
Day 4-
Day 4 was planned to be the 100 miler, but due to heavy winds the route was changed to 80, going a different way. There was also a second route of around 55 miles, as not everyone wanted to do 100. It had been assumed the day before that I wouldn't be going anywhere on the bike, but waking up I felt good, my legs weren't tired, and I just found it ridiculous that sore bits could stop me riding. So I manned up, got ready, put half a tub of vaseline on, and got on the bike. For the first half I was fine, second half a bit more tender, but I was really glad I went. The shorter group got back earlier, and I braved the ice bath again, for swimming this time. It wasn't quite as cold, but cold enough, I still went blue. After messing about pretending to swim for 30 minutes I got out and spent the rest of the day reading and chatting to people! A few of us discussed going and doing something cultural, but the best we could find was a museum of 20,000 salt and pepper shakers and a ladyboys cabaret, so we decided to stick to cycling.
DAY 5-
Day off cycling, it was sea swim day. For those of us doing Majorca 70.3 in a few weeks time it would be a great opportunity to get some practice in. I am one of those people. But I also wasn't keen. I don't like sand. I don't like swimming in the sea. I don't like salt. But again, just get on with it. Wetsuit on, run in Baywatch style. Fall over, hat slips, goggles fill with water. Good start. Swimming out, I was surprised that I couldn't see anything. It was very cloudy in the water, and made even seeing your hand difficult. It was also quite rough, which meant changing from bilateral breathing to breathing every two to avoid a gobful of wave. Somehow that happened anyway. A wave went into my mouth, I gasped and went to cough and another wave went in. That time I was sick. Salt doesn't taste nice. Spluttering, heaving, and with eyes stinging from leaky goggles, I just generally felt quite shitty to be honest!! So I went to get my camera and amused myself taking pictures of the other ''athletes'' flapping around in the water, dunking each other and practicing their Dirty Dancing lifts.....
So, I wasn't that worried about the Majorca swim, but I am now.. Ignorance WAS bliss.
DAY 6-
Hill reps in afternoon today, which I really enjoyed. Going up on a lovely route, through some pine trees. Adrenalin pumping, I was really loving it in a weird kind of 'this is hard' way. Descending was even better, such good fun. I seem to have no fear with things like that, although one corner was pretty sharp, and I did think if a car had been coming I would have been splattered, but I learnt the next time down.
We all headed out for a drink tonight, me in my compression leggings and boots, because I didn't bring my trainers. New trend.
DAY 7-
Last day. And the anticipation of the last 15 miles and 2000 feet of climbing. At 40 miles we stopped for a drink. Cafe con leche has become the most spoken phrase throughout the holiday. It means coffee with milk. Caffeine is our friend. I couldn't drink mine though, it was too strong. My preferred coffee isn't even coffee, it just pretends to be. It is so weak it's ridiculous. So someone next to me had three coffees all lined up in front of him. Leaving the shop it was straight into rather large climbs. On the first one I was looking around, in awe of the amazing scenery. The second I was staring straight ahead. And the third I wasn't looking at anything. What a sense of achievement at the top though. Felt great. Had a tapas lunch, at which I could have just eaten everything... and did.
In the afternoon it was packing up the bikes before getting ready to have dinner at a local restaurant. I did actually pack most of it myself, but at some parts I had to go all pathetic again and wait for help. As I said, ''I may not be a princess, but I can still work it''.
Evening meal was wonderful, great food, great company. Felt tired but content. Had a great last day. And travelled in the boot of the van coming back, laughing until my sides hurt. (don't ask)
DAY 8-
Home time... so what have I been left with? The fact that I can do a long ride and then another ride the next day and still be alright. No excuses for that now. My body is capable of much more than I expected it to be, I was actually surprised at what I can do. I think I've always held back a bit thinking I was tired or not able to do such high volume, but really this week has proven that theory wrong.
I will also never complain about any hill again. Nottingham is flat compared to spain.
I need a new saddle.
I need a neoprene swim hat for cold water swims.
I know how to say coffee with milk in Spanish.
I'm now completely confident at cycling in a group/through and off/drafting.
I obviously put on muscle very easily, because after cycling for a week and burning on average 1500 calories a day, have I lost weight? Nope, I've put weight on. Nice.
I'm a much better cyclist than I was a few months ago.
That's good enough for me.
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