Swim Run Bike???

If someone asked you to define a triathlon, it’s safe bet that the phrase Swim, Bike, Run is going to come up pretty early on. There are of course alternatives, with duathlons probably the most common. I firmly believe these are only run to give frustrated triathletes something to do when the lakes are too cold for swimming, although I understand strong runners may find this offensive. Aquabike and aquathons are coming up more and more often as options.

Still, you don’t often see people messing with the basic triathlon formula.

Hillingdon Triathletes run a Swim/Run/Bike race series and I decided to give one a go to see what kind of a difference it made. I picked a good one – with the approaching HS2 construction about to demolish their lake, I took part in the last race in their series that has been running since the 1980s (which may go some way to explaining the unusual order, as back then triathlon was a lot newer) and there was a warm if melancholy feel to the race. There were a lot of athletes competing who had been doing this race for a very long time and were visibly sorry to see it go.

I was taking part with Matt, who’d done the first two races in the series, and we discussed what to expect – with the run following the swim directly the tight quad muscles you get so familiar with coming out of t2 are unlikely to be an issue; but I know on a flat sprint I tend to recover a little on the bike before throwing myself into the run – how would I be impacted when I shucked my wetsuit and took off on an early run?

We’d been in London celebrating Jo’s birthday so although sober, I’d only managed a little under four hours sleep when the alarm went off; blearily disoriented I managed to make my way out of the house without waking everyone and was soon parking at the Hillingdon Outdoor Activity center. God knows how I’d managed to drive there as when I got to registration it took me forever to read my own name on the board.

Registration and Racking

The odd order of things continued as the informal but friendly nature of this event made itself clear – I racked my bike in transition before registering and collecting my number pack; I was also presented with my finishers medal (a first for this event) and a customised celebratory bottle of beer as I did so, all of which felt weird. As I stickered up my bike and laid out my gear other competitors explained that the finish is out on the road and so handing over the finish line goodies early was safer and easier.

With access to the boathouse changing rooms and toilets there was plenty of warm space to get changed, and everyone was quietly and professionally sorting out their gear. I had my usual ‘Oh god, I’m going to be last’ wibble. Getting over it, I carefully arranged my shoes to suit the run/bike order and triple checked what I’d done (In t1 I discovered I’d still got it wrong). I also had to set up a new activity profile on my Garmin or I would be smashing every run record I’d ever set on Strava.

Soon, we were receiving a safety briefing that went into quite a lot of detail that was probably more helpful to locals who know the roads and the area, and also covered the intriguing possibility of reportedly escaped horses running riot on the bike course. We were then shepherded down to the lake.

The Swim

Visibility was really good for this time of year, probably close to 3m and some sensible swimming from everyone around meant I was able to deliver a fast, smooth swim. At points I felt swimmers around me choosing to diverge rather than delivering a elbow strike to my ribs or ears – clearly Swim/Run/Bikers are more considerate than Swim/Bike/Runners. The last leg of the swim was directly into the sun – this always adds a challenge on a lake you’ve never swum before, but I decided to trust my neighbours and drafted on the hip of another swimmer. Charmingly, as we left the water each competitor had to yell his number to allow accurate splits on this non chip-timed event – the organisers had marked the backs of our hands to help oxygen deprived athletes deliver this.

So far, everything was the same as with a normal triathlon – although as I raced into transition and shed the wetsuit I had to really fight the urge to put my bike helmet on. I managed to grab the right shoes from the right place and I was off.

The Run

A six km run meant more of my weakest discipline, and runners did stream past me after my strong swim; usually I would have had a ride to build more of a lead before giving them a chance to catch up. With a turnaround at 3k (shouting out our numbers again) I was able to start to gauge how far I had left to go when runners started coming the other way; however the pavement route on the way out diverged with a vault over (!) a gate (It was nice, if unnecessary for the marshal at this point to apologise), and through fields for the last 2k on the way back which was a welcome, if more challenging, change.

Running out of the trees and back past the lake into t2 I was finally able to put my helmet on and having made the short run to the mount line I leapt on the bike. I was determined to pass some of the runners who had picked me off.

The Ride

Usually on a ride I ‘keep count’ – adding one to my tally when I pass someone and taking one away when I get passed. I usually wind up somewhere between -2 and -4. Today, I quickly started picking other competitors off, even on some of the significant hills, and was soon riding at +5. Although I could see the next two riders, they were proving difficult to rein in.

The ride course is an out, two loops and back, with a couple of filters designed to slow you before junctions and two mandatory foot down stops before busy roundabouts, again to help manage your speed. Although I did put my foot down, I think you’d have to stretch the definition to say I stopped, but made it over each with a wave from the marshal.

I was finally able to pick off the two riders, putting me on +7 but wound up having a proper back and forth with rider 62, who did not like being passed on a steep downhill and worked hard to get back in front anytime we went up hill. In front again, I was able to hold him off on the second lap and although I knew he was there he didn’t get back in front of me.

Grinding up another hill a rider I hadn’t seen before cruised past me and I made the mistake of letting him get a small gap before the summit – this proved to be a bigger issue when a car decided to put itself in that gap just as we hit the fastest descent on the course. Double white lines meant I couldn’t pass the car, who was now being held up by the rider in front who I would otherwise have passed, as we raced back to what I had assumed was the finish. Matt was delighted as comparing notes on Strava later he was faster on this stretch, and he wasn’t prepared to accept any excuses.

I groaned, for we were being waved on past what I’d assumed was the end and there was another couple of undulating kilometers as we rode out, rounded a final roundabout and barrelled back for the finish line at the side of the road.

I finished on +5 and was delighted with the score, but it didn’t feel right. I’d clearly just completed a triathlon but my body disagreed.

The race was done, but I felt unfinished, clearly confused but ready for the run I was still expecting as I wandered over to grab a (free) coke and a doughnut. I guess it’s the sporting equivalent of low fat sausages – 90% the same, but missing something crucial. It had been a lot easier, but that might have been the problem as it hadn’t felt like the full Triathlon sufferfest we’re all used to. It was fun for a change, and would be a great way to mix up your racing and training but I think I prefer doing them the ‘proper’ way.

Hopefully Hillingdon will find another location for next year and if so I’ll give it another go just for the change. Everyone was enjoying themselves and a lot of that rubbed off as I worked my way round.