A week in London

After two weeks in Hamburg and London, it is a bit of a relief to be back in quiet Davos. While it was wonderful to see family (my sister Lauren, who came in for the London race), friends and sponsors, I was excited to hop on the train to Davos and weave my way up the Alps to our training base. Spending so much time in two beautiful, exciting cities, surrounded by people and distractions, was a bit of a sensory overload for me. I much prefer waking up to the sound of cowbells over the noise of traffic. I’m a country girl at heart!

With a couple of races that were both disappointing and encouraging, I am returning to Davos on a mission. An 8th place finish at Hamburg was a surprise, given my pre-race “preparation”. Once the race was over, we had to reshift focus to being as recovered as possible for the London WCS race 6 days later (the lucky boys had 8 days between races!). Thankfully, the USA Triathlon staff did a great job in helping the athletes with this task. As the race unfolded, however, I soon realized that I was pretty flat and couldn’t quite find that next gear. After a strong swim and solid bike, I put in a good effort on the run, but struggled to find my running legs and ended up finishing a respectable 12th place. Sometimes you can recover easily after a race and other times it is a strain. All you can do is set yourself up as well as possible to be able to go fast!

After trying to compete the first two WCS races of the year in Sydney and Seoul with an injury, being able to race in Hamburg and London without pain was a far more pleasurable experience. That being said, we made some mistakes leading up into the race that lead to a compromised pre-race preparation and I still wasn’t able to race at 100%. The longer that I do this sport, however, I realize that these highs and lows are just part of the process. On the whole, I am improving and becoming a better triathlete, even if my results don’t yet reflect those changes. Fortunately, I have two more opportunities at the WCS level to prove that my trajectory is pointing in the right direction. If I can get in some good training in Davos, avoid bovine (or other) collisions on the bike and go into the races with a solid preparation phase, I should be able to produce a result that will make me proud.

• Yes, I had to wear a bathing suit in front of the Big Ben. Fortunately, a photo shoot involving triathletes in bathing suits was overshadowed by the protester walking around with a box on his head, a megaphone and cardboard “armor”.

Hamburg in review

In sport, miracles simply don’t occur. That being said, sometimes events unfold in a way that can shock the bejeezus out of you. Somehow, despite having the least ideal pre-race prep possible, I eked out enough energy to manage an 8th place finish at the Hamburg World Championship Series race.

After two weeks of being stuck in the Death Spiral, we weren’t sure whether I’d be able to race in Hamburg. I tried to remain optimistic, however, that somehow I might be able to avoid drowning, push more than 100 watts on the bike and manage more than a shuffle on the run (the sad part is that I’m only mildly exaggerating). The pre-race instruction that I received from Daz was literally, “Give me a thumbs down after the first lap of the bike if you are going to pull out of the race and, if you do, don’t be too hard on yourself”. Since we had reached red on the Terrorist threat level a few times in the previous two weeks, this seemed like reasonable advice.

My race was pretty straightforward: I managed to stay relaxed and move my way to the front of the swim pack, tried to stay out of trouble on the technical bike course and focused on running efficiently. Somehow, I picked off girls one by one and ran my way into 8th place. Needless to say, I was totally shocked. It just goes to show that, with an open mind and a relaxed body, you can sometimes race well when overly tired, poorly primed for racing and emotionally exhausted. Let’s just hope that I can do even better when properly prepared! It was a great day for the D-Squad, with 4 of the women finishing in the top-8 and some strong racing from our boys. Fingers crossed that we repeat the domination in London! As for me, I wouldn’t mind surprising myself again :-)

Scaredypants Groffy and the Tunnel of Doom

I don’t hate many things. There are some critters, namely venomous spiders, snakes and sharks, for whom I have a healthy respect. Heights don’t bother me too much and public speaking just makes me uncomfortable. And after years of loathing cilantro and brussel sprouts, I have found that I actually quite like both when prepared properly (i.e. not boiled to death and smelling of feet, in the case of brussel sprouts). The closest that I have come to hatred in recent years is my ongoing disdain for clowns. The closest, that is, until I came to Davos and rode through the 2.7 km long Landwasser Tunnel.

I can safely say that I hate the Landwasser Tunnel with the burning passion of a thousand suns. The first time that I went into the tunnel I was worried that I wouldn’t come out alive and, despite having successfully passed through it a number of times since, I still enter with a sinking feeling of dread. Among its many charming characteristics you’ll find: almost total darkness, seriously confined space, a significant temperature drop, the distortion of automotive noise that both amplifies and makes the vehicle’s direction unknown (one scooter can sound like a fleet of tanks, ready to surround you), recycled auto emission-laden air and trolls*.

Not surprisingly, when I safely pop out the other side of the tunnel, I have a white-knuckle grip on my handlebars and it requires a few kilometers of riding before my shoulders drop from ear level. The most startling part of reaching the end of the tunnel, however, is the contrast that meets you. From a dark, scary and confined space, you emerge into the bright, dazzling open Swiss countryside. And while I hate the feeling that consumes me while inside, it is this contrast helps me see the world with a different perspective. In other words, the hatred of the tunnel, really just my fear resulting from a skewed perception of danger, allows me to appreciate the non-tunnel riding that much more. Yes, I hate the tunnel, but I will continue to ride through it, mostly because I have no other option to reach my destination. I ride though that terrifying, potentially troll-filled tunnel with the hopes that I’ll reach the other end safely. Somehow, I always do.

• Okay, I haven’t actually seen a troll in there, but it always reminds me of the descent into the mines of Moria from the Lord of the Rings. Like with the orc drumming, I expect the car noises to be followed by trolls, orcs and the Balrog. (And, yes, referencing the Lord of the RIngs officially makes me a dork.)

P.S. Yeah, I know... the tunnel is a completely overworked metaphor. In my defense, I’m an athlete, not a writer. If you want real writing, my amazing sister is the Groff with the writing chops. If you want blog posts from the endorphine addled brain of a triathlete, however, you are in the right place!