Today I have to register for the half a***d and attend a race briefing, of which there are four sprinkled throughout the day and I aim for the 12:30 one. I take the dogs with me whilst L runs there.
As we wait for her we watch the Nottingham Triathlon that is going on all day. This is merely a sprint distance event 750m swim/20k bike/5k run but the buoys in the rowing lake look well spaced out to me... and that is only 750m! It’s going to be 1900m tomorrow. Gulp.
I go to registration and get my race numbers, timing chip, swim hat, tattoos etc. Yes I did say tattoos, this year they are using ITU style tattoo numbers that you stick onto your skin.
Then they hand me a pint of beer as I head into the briefing. This is more like it. Sadly it turns out to be non-alcoholic.
The briefing is more or less what is in the published race guide, only with added humour and photographs that you can’t actually see because it’s too light in the tent where they’re holding it. No matter, we’re all hyped up now. Although I feel some of my fellow ‘athletes’ are contemplating not coming back tomorrow.
Then I go for a pre-race massage in the capable hands of the former landlord of one of our local pubs. I kid you not. It’s a small world as they say.
Back home, L says she was once told that you should drink alcohol the night before a race because it helps you sleep. So I have a beer, a real one, to go with my pasta and the athletic looking Bakewell Tart that is lurking threateningly in the fridge.
(Saturday 31st May)