EMMA SOMERShas less than a fortnight to go before her first triathlon, but a nasty chest infection has derailed her training programme, her back is acting up and swimming in tidal conditions is still a challenge – how does she get back on track?
“YOU’LL CATCH YOUR end of cold,” my granny used to warn me. And she probably wasn’t far off. Somewhere between cycling in a wet bra after a swimming-related wardrobe malfunction, playing cricket in the rain on midsummer’s evening, and getting drenched (by the gods and the clumsy revellers) at Glastonbury, I caught a chill. Or, more accurately, a wheezing, hacking chest infection, the symptoms of which are made all the more acute by having “taken it easy” on Worthy Farm.
The training schedule has gone out the window and, with the triathlon less than a fortnight away, my heart misses a beat ticking the “I consent that I am a competent swimmer and am able to swim in tidal conditions” box on the race registration form. Desperation leads to forums with titles such as “Can you drown with a wetsuit???”
I am not alone. But it’s cold comfort, and it’s hard to strike up an affinity with someone who uses that much punctuation.
Perhaps the reassuring order of a good long list will help. Things to get in order before race day:
1: Buy new (non-leaky) goggles and swimming hat;
2: Leave bike in for a service;
3: Swim 750m in tidal conditions without drowning.
God damn it.
It could be the mucus talking, or the frustration, but a week without proper exercise has darkened my mood considerably. The sun is shining, Dublin is looking hot, and I’m narky as hell. And it’s a vicious circle: the less exercise I do, the less exercise I want to do. Even walking the dog is a chore.
Somewhere along the way, I’ve put my back out, and the glutes and hamstrings are up to their usual tricks. It’s not long before I’ve fallen off the wagon, too, and it’s a struggle to climb back on – sure what’s the point? Meanwhile, my catarrh gently weeps.
Fiona, who is training with me, isn’t faring much better. Hockey training has left her with an injured/maybe broken toe and a bad back, adding to her concerns about existing knee trouble. It’s all starting to look a bit hopeless. Something has to give.
I need to snap out of this fug and shift this cold. It starts with a visit to Health Matters on Grafton Street and a chat with Lorraine, a woman passionate and informed about the remedies she sells. About five years ago, after a bout of repeat kidney infections, one worse than the other, she recommended I try D-Mannose instead of another antibiotic. It worked and I haven’t had one since. This time around, she suggests Solgar’s Echinacea/Goldenseal Cat’s Claw complex to shift my cough, along with a double dose of Vitamin D. After a couple of days it’s doing the trick and I’m checking out the high-tide times again with optimism.
But still the nerves about the swim, coupled with a week out of action, are debilitating. I need an injection of confidence and a burst of motivation. The first comes from registering my husband (a competent swimmer who can actually swim in tidal conditions) in the triathlon; the reassurance of someone in the water to keep an eye on me may be bordering on cheating but it’s the only way I’m going to get through this first race. For motivation, I’m suppressing any niggling “I could always do one later in the summer” thoughts by raising funds for the Turn the Tide of Suicide charity (mycharity.ie/event/auldtriathlete).
Now to get back in the swim of things . . .
READER’S TIP
Patrick O’Callaghan recommends running in Blackrock Park (below): “The paths are in good condition and there is plenty of grass to run on as well. There are a few slopes which add a bit to the run. It is away from the traffic and you have the seafront on the other side. There is a car park just before you come into Blackrock village. The fee is €1.20 per hour, Monday to Friday; free on weekends.”
If you have any suggestions to make about Emma Somers’s training programme, send them to: esomers@irishtimes.com. See also Twitter.com/auldtriathlete