Big Swim, Nottingham

Today I have the dubious honour of swimming in the rowing strip at the National Water Sports Centre, Holme Pierrepont.

There are three distances on offer: - 5k, 3k and 1.5k. No prizes for guessing which one I’ve gone for. L has opted for 3k and this starts at the very human time of 2.30pm. We head down a little early to check of the ‘Expo’, which is mainly for the Outlaw Ironman Triathlon on Sunday. The place is literally buzzing, mainly with folk getting ready for the Outlaw, racking bikes etc, but there are quite a few of us there purely to don some rubber.

We check in and are asked to show some photographic identification, as if anybody would pretend to be me and steal my place. We are then issued with a wristband (no idea what the purpose of this is), a timing chip and a coloured swim cap. Blue for the boys, red for the girls.

Then before long L is in the water and away. We have been briefed that the swim route is very simple. Straight up, round two orange buoys and then back, in a clockwise direction. Simple, as long as you can swim.

 L has to do this circuit twice, with a little run along the bank in between. So almost an aquathon. Having seen her complete her first circuit, I start to get ready for my date with the water. Then they announce that my start has been delayed from 4pm to 4.30pm to give the canoeists a break from the sun. Which is fine, if only they’d told me before I’d struggled into my wetsuit. It’s very warm today and once the wetsuit is on, you start to melt from the inside out. I suppose what I actually need now is a cooling dip in the lake but as this is no longer available, I choose to take the suit off again. At least now I will get to see L finish.

Then it’s my turn. Everything starts off much better than at Windermere. Firstly they give us time to acclimatise in the water and I make sure I’m one of the first in, to maximise this. We also actually start from within the water, which also makes it easier.

I almost enjoy the start and the early use of elbows as I jostle for position in the pack. I think eventually I get spat out the back of it, which I’m not too upset about. Then I realise I’m about to head butt the bank because I’m way off course, which is probably why no one considers me worth an elbow any more.

Clearly my ‘sighting’ (e.g. looking where I’m going) needs a bit of work but stroke wise I feel I’m close to getting the hang of it and I manage to do front crawl throughout. Wetsuit #3 also doesn’t seem to be choking the life out of me, which helps. Oddly though, I’m breathing almost totally over my left shoulder, which is something I cannot do in the pool where I almost exclusively use the right. I have no sane explanation for this.

The breathing also involves spitting loads of weeds out, which is an unexpected bonus but thankfully I don’t come across any supermarket trolleys. Thankfully because I know they have it in for me.

The main problem now is that someone appears to have moved the orange buoys because it’s a bloody long way. By the time I get there, I have cramp in both calves, which is a bit inconvenient. It comes and goes but doesn’t pass. At least, as I discover, in a wetsuit you don't need to kick your legs for buoyancy and can simply drag them uselessly behind you.

After a few more attempts at head butting the bank, which is accompanied by the unjust feeling that by doing all this zigzagging I must have swam twice as far as everyone else, I see the finish line.

As I reach the finish, I am more than happy to crawl up the slip way to the finish gantry but the marshals insist on helping me to my feet. Then they repeat this kind gesture after I have toppled over backwards as my legs temporarily decline the offer of terra firma.

35 minutes it took me, which is 10 minutes better than Windermere for 100m less. Sort of good I suppose.

In the evening we head off to the Gooseberry Bush in Nottingham on a bit of a retro evening which has been approximately 10 years in the planning. This is where we always used to start our nights out when I was a student... erm, 25 years ago. This night out has been requested by my friend in Newark, so that he can show his wife some of the student dives we used to hang out in. Sadly, or perhaps gladly, most of these have since closed down and the Bush itself is now a Wetherspoons. What’s more he rings to say they can no longer make it, so that was 10 years of planning down the drain. Although the three of us and partners, who are there, have a great time.

 (Saturday 6^th July)

Small, Medium and Large

Perfect bike weather this morning, no wind for once. I bet L is well jealous.

She has actually been looking at Sportives and cycling kit. She shows me a ‘Womens Only’ event which rather amusingly has two routes which they have called Short and Medium rather than Short and Long. They seem to think this sort of psychology appeals to women, perhaps it does to some but L seems to find it a bit quite condescending.

Funny thing is, if you’re trying to buy your woman a glass of wine in a bar you’re often faced with two options there as well - medium and large. Clearly somebody is of the opinion that women like to think their bike rides are shorter than they actually are and that their glasses of wine are bigger than they actually are.

L suggests that we stick to our usual Friday routine tonight unless I have the urge to do the Colin Potter 10k in Derby. I have stronger urges that Colin Potter and anyway I’m saving my legs in case I have to swim away from any sharks or supermarket trolleys on Saturday.

(Friday 5^th July)

A Supporting Job Done Good

Hay fever seems to be rampant this year. I’m struggling but L is worse. She never used to suffer but seems to have caught it from me! I’m not too sure about her strategy for sore eyes, lying down with cucumber on them, and neither are the dogs.

Another trip to work on the bike and then off to the finale, round four, of the Nottingham Grand Prix at Colwick Park. I’ve not been jealous of L doing these races at all. Nothing in this series has tempted me back, least of all a rather convoluted new route for tonight’s 5 miler.

Afterwards we pick up L’s series t-shirt from the racecourse and then head to the Stratford Haven pub for a few celebratory beers of a supporting job done good. The boys have pork scratchings. Of course L has done good with her running as well.

(Thursday 4^th July)

The Bull By The Horns

While I’m in the car, L is on the bike (yes really). She’s planning on doing a run with Sweatshop tonight and then cycling home.

Oops. I forget to send her a worried email asking if she’s arrived safe and well at work, like she does for me on every trip. Perhaps it’s because I have every faith in her ability, particularly in her ability to avoid traffic at all costs.

Which brings her to her next problem, getting across town from work to the Sweatshop run. I advise her to grab the bull by the horns and the one way system by the balls but she doesn’t seem convinced.

She says he just cannot cycle across town. It would be a bit like asking me to swim up the canal.... Or, I add, asking me to me swim up Holme Pierrepont rowing strip. Which I’m doing on Saturday by the way.

‘I think on this occasion, walking is the answer.’ Fail, as they say in teenagerland.

Talking of swimming, this is why I’m in the car today. So that I can get a practice swim in and still get to dog class in reasonable time.

There are only three lanes open again and regrettably a chap has mistaken the middle lane for the hard shoulder. The only other swimmer in our lane and I overtake him every length, at the same time trying not to crash into each other. It’s sort of fun actually and rather good of him to recreate the manic environment that is likely to ensue during my swim on Saturday. Either that or he’s imitating a shopping trolley, L tells me there are plenty of them in Holme Pierrepont rowing strip. I’m not sure if she’s joking or not.

(Wednesday 3^rd July)

Another Likely Cause

The other week I blamed shards of glass on the A52 for my puncture and have avoided the road ever since, probably to L’s delight. Today as I park my bike up at work I realise that here is another likely cause. Numerous thorn bushes are now multiplying in our car park. Once upon a time the management company that runs Pride Park used to do regular gardening duties. These days, now that they have everyone's money, they don’t bother and haven’t done for years.

Tonight the Nottingham Grand Prix round 3, which looks a bit like round 2 as we’re back at Rushcliffe Country Park again and the weather is the same again, damp and miserable. Sometimes it’s better to simply support, as the dogs and I do tonight.

(Tuesday 2^nd July)

Take Your Partner To Work Day

L comes to work with me today, so I take her the scenic route. Actually I always take the scenic route as it avoids the majority of the rush hour traffic. Longer is better than slower.

She doesn’t actually come to work, it’s not a take your partner to work day, she hops out and heads off to get the train to Leamington to see Son.

We meet up again afterwards, after she’s spent the day getting Son togged out in smart clothes for his graduation bash.

In the evening I have to skip dog training again because of the scheduled continuation of last week’s committee meeting. Now that everyone had calmed down a touch, everything that should have been approved last week gets approved.

(Monday 1st July)