A curling wave crashes over me from behind, pushing me forward and down below the surface of the sea. Through my swimming-goggles I catch a green, silent moment in the wave and I remind myself to relax and pace my breathing. I kick my legs, push my elbow back, folding it high and reaching forward for the catch, then pushing through and out into sunlight to catch my breath then surge forwards again.
The white crest of the wave throws sparkling droplets into the air, catching with the sunlight and there it is, I’m swimming through rainbows. The rough sea is challenging and fierce and I couldn’t be happier. Glancing through the swell I notice the spire of Saint Colman’s Cathedral on my right and the smaller Christchurch Church of Ireland on my left. These are my guides and there is a spiritual connection in my mind as I imagine an invisible tow-line attaching me to both and leading me back to shore. I am judging the current and the tide; the way the water is pulling me, along my trajectory to those fine points on the landline ahead. We are a perfect triangle, a power source, and the sea cannot defeat me. I am alive.
I have been fascinated by the open water sea swim between Spike Island and Cobh ever since I was a young radio reporter, writing stories about the island’s prison population and the infamous prison riot, which is now part of the exhibition about the island’s history. I always imagined what it might be like to swim it, but I never imagined that I would be the swimmer. So it is with the world, that strange coincidences turn dreams to reality. How appropriate that now I was swimming this infamous stretch – Ireland’s own ‘escape from Alcatraz’ – as part of an even bigger project of completing ten triathlons in a year.
The Cobh Tri was my tenth triathlon of 2016, and the swim from Spike to Cobh was without a shadow of a doubt the most exciting. It was also my first ever attempt at a full ‘Olympic distance’ tri and I really had no idea if I could do it.
Back in February with a lot of borrowed gear and last minute choices, I dipped my toe into the indoor pool in Carrick-On-Shannon for the Lough Key ‘Try a Tri’ – my first introduction to the world of triathlon. I was nervous, but the people of Carrick won the day, their encouragement hurtling me through to complete the course. It was a trend that was to continue, as I headed to Galway for the Castle Series and the Lough Cutra Castle Triathlon with its beautiful parkland and lake. From there I headed to Kildare for my first sprint distance triathlon during an Irish heatwave. Running along the river in Athy I thought I would melt but every elite athlete that zipped past used their precious breath to call encouragement to me as I jogged along.
‘By Hook or By Crook’ I finished my 4th triathlon in Wexford and swam back across the bay afterwards! Hells Angels were born for number five, when I buddied up and took my place in an all-girl team to finish the swim as part of a relay at Hell Of The West. My favourite run came next in the lovely Dromineer with Nenagh Tri Club, followed by the Lakeside Tri in Donegal, King of Greystones in Wicklow and triathlon number nine, the Salthill Tri in Galway.
Throughout the year I felt my confidence grow, but I also felt such admiration for the organisers and the athletes taking part. Safety and organisation was paramount, and whether racing across a lake or a big sea swim like Hell of the West, there was always a safety kayak within sight and the briefings before each race left me very clear and very safe about the race and my place in it. I very quickly found reassurance that I did have a place here. Even though this is a hugely competitive sport with amazing elites battling hard for home and country, I never felt out of place. That’s down to Triathlon Ireland, all the organising clubs, stewards, officials, safety crews, and the athletes and spectators who never stopped encouraging me along the way.
At the start of the year, overweight and unable to run very far, I felt a bit of a fraud turning up for my first ‘try-a’tri’ – but nobody else saw me that way. I soon realised that even if I never won a race, I could win each time by performing better than the last. My race wasn’t just on triathlon day, it was all the work I put in between the events, jogging on the road, swimming in the sea, cycling to work and going to the gym; it all counted. Turning up to race wasn’t a judgement on how slow or bad I was, it was a celebration of how far I had come; and everybody there encouraged me to realise that.
Back here at Cobh – my tenth triathlon of the Summer – and my first full Olympic distance. I accept the outstretched hands that balance me as I climb from the water after completing my epic battle ‘escaping’ from Spike. I head off on the bike against a gale force wind, because Cobh wasn’t making this easy! Nearly 40k later I swing back in on the bike and face my nemesis – the 10k run. Or in my case, the walk and jog. I didn’t have to look far for inspiration, I knew that this was also a ‘first ever full distance Olympic triathlon’ for the legendary Sonia O’Sullivan.
Of course she’d long finished the course, but as I finished my first loop and got the first of three wristbands before starting on the next, I thought about Sonia and the effort it must take to compete in an entirely new sport when everyone is watching. The loveliness of the lady and the kindness she has shown me whenever we have met was another reason to keep me going for the second band, which was green. I knew with a white and a green band on my wrist there was no way I was stopping. To my delight, other ladies, stewards and even some of my friends, joined me on the last loop, walking and jogging it with me and encouraging me all the way.
I finished my tenth triathlon on the seafront in Cobh, grabbing my last wristband to form the perfect green, white and gold. As I heard my timing chip beep as I passed over the pressure mat, I knew that I’d just completed my own personal Olympic moment. Thank you Triathlon Ireland, thank you Sonia, thank you friends, spectators and fellow competitors for all your support and inspiration along the way. Thanks also to the kind donors who allowed me raise €1,000 for The Irish Wheelchair Association and the Gavin Glynn Foundation, and to everyone who donated to the TRI10 iDonate page throughout the year. It’s been an amazing adventure and I have a sneaky feeling that I’ll be back next year….
*First published in Sept 2016 by Triathlon Ireland
I’ve decided that this is how I want to look by the end of the year! Before you laugh, it’s the beautiful powerful creature charging after the surf ‘look’ that I’m going after! So no old nag cracks please – especially from Continue reading
Oh my gosh – what have I done?
In 12 hours’ time I jump off O’Connell Bridge and into the Liffey! I’ve taken the leap from higher heights from that, but usually I’m attached to a rope. My poor head for heights is kicking my butt already over this one, and I haven’t even reached the bridge. For some reason the idea of stepping off into emptiness is freaking me out. Aggghhhhh….. it’s for Cystic Fibrosis though – so at least the fact that it’s such a good cause, should help stop me from running away.
It’s been such an intense couple of weeks, very busy at work and very busy with the camera crew for ‘Get Off The Couch’ the TV show that will broadcast on Setanta later this year. My gang of hardy participants have completely transformed themselves into athletes, and we all took part in their first Sprint Relay Triathlon last weekend in my hometown, Blanchardstown. They had a 750-metre pool to contend with, in our magnificent Olympic Distance pool at the National Aquatic Centre. I personally got a PB cycling the 15k – but pushed myself so hard, I could hardly walk afterwards, not to mind run the 250 metres in the transition back to rack my bike. We’re all competing in a Sprint Triathlon on June 1st, and I’ve learned my lesson – I’ll have to pace myself when I’m doing all three disciplines, so my time won’t be as good for each section, but my motivation will be to complete all three parts. So complete rather than compete will be in my mind – we’ll see how the times work out afterwards!
We’re coming to the end of filming for GOTC, but as usual, I’ve found this latest adventure is really only the beginning for something totally new. Joe, Maryanne, Cathy, Karen, Eamonn and Damien are the participants. When you watch the programme, you won’t believe how far they’ve come; not just in changing their physical fitness, but their entire lifestyles. It’s been a roller-coaster ride full of hard work, injuries, recoveries, bravery, camaraderie and craic. If these last 6 months had never made it to the screen at all, it would still have been a magnificent project to be part of, simply to see where we’ve all come from and gone to. Most important of all, I’ve made 6 new friends, which is such a heavenly gift from the world. Will everyone continue on their athletic journey? Well we’ve all discovered some sports that we liked more than others, and we’ve already made plans for getting together for sporty adventures in the future – without the cameras.
The best memories? Carrauntoohil is high up there (excuse the pun) I was hoping that people would like it, but was quite prepared for the likelihood that they wouldn’t. I’m not going to tell you who did and who didn’t – have to leave you SOMETHING to watch the programme for… lol. The Galtymores and the Mournes were both very special, running with Catherina McKiernan was extraordinary and probably life-changing for me. Running the Ballintotis 4-mile in Maryanne’s home town was incredibly memorable, including the fun and laughter before and after. Joe coming back to run alongside me on the track, training with Eamon Tilley in Greystones was pretty special, and Olympic Champion Katy Taylor coming over to help us train was extraordinary.
I’ve a feeling that Sunday’s gig will be another special moment – when Channel Swimmer Fergal Somerville takes the gang out to swim in the sea at Malahide. I’ll be doing boat-cover for that, paddling alongside in my kayak (Saffron). That brings my mind back around to tomorrow and O’Connell Bridge. It’s Fergal that’s talked me into making the ‘leap of faith’ off the bridge and into the Liffey. I walk the plank at 12-noon – but someone may need to give me a sharp push. No doubt Fergal will gladly oblige! OMG. :/
It was a busy weekend – on Saturday I met the gang that are joining me in a brand new TV programme called ‘Get Off The Couch’.
This 6-part series with Athena Media & the BAI on Setanta TV, is aimed at encouraging a bunch of enthusiastic candidates from all over the country to get healthy and improve their fitness, using our beautiful great outdoors. Say a big friendly adventurous ‘hello’ to Damien McElligott, Karen Bowers, Joe Grey, Maryanne Treacy, Cathy Whyte, and Eamonn Waldron – our GOTC team for 2013.
Adventure is the name of the game, but if Saturday’s ‘meet and greet’ was anything to go by, it’s also going to be a lot of craic, fun, and teasing the girls….. The boys wound us up a bit over a fitness test. They had to do it first – and they let on it was much worse than it was. I’m not sure they knew what they were unleashing. Girls never forget!
We started out on Saturday with a leasurely ‘walk in the park’ – the Phoenix Park that is. It was beautiful; fuelled by yummy scones and lashings of tea from Helen, in the park’s gorgeous Visitors’ Centre. Ok – it’s Lent now, and the scones may have to go, and the exercise will have to get a bit more animated. Yes it’s all ahead of us!
Next weekend, the girls are off to Limerick to bond and learn about triathlons. Lads – I think ya better look out! 😉
Well it’s been an interesting few years. In 2009 I was 23 stone and dangerously ill. By 2010 I was heading to Everest Base Camp to raise money for kids in India, after losing half my own body weight. A year later I was climbing Grand Paradiso in the Alps for Chernobyl kids, and this year (2012) I took part in the first charity multi-adventure challenge in Uganda for the Irish charity Concern, climbing a volcano at altitude before cycling 200k to the Nile where the team took turns in kayaking down a grade 3 rapid. I kept a training blog here for my African Adventure, and now I’m back in training for a whole new challenge.
Throughout these adventures I learned to love our beautiful mountains and stunning seas, and to forge an ever-growing respect for our bodies, which can do so much more than our minds believe.
In 2013 I want you to come with me.
I’m inviting those of you who secretly dream of being adventurous to leave the TV remote behind, and come out to explore the great outdoors. I know how scary that can be, but I want to share how wonderful it is to break down those walls and find the inner you, the inner explorer. So if you’re looking for a life-changing New Year resolution – come and join me – and “Get Off The Couch”.
Updates from the Uganda Challenge…
My big brother Raymond knows how to fly – a real-life pilot. He did some gliding too and once when I was a little girl, he talked to me about turbulence. He explained it was like driving a car fast along a bumpy bog road. Even though you bounce up and down, you’re not going anywhere, just bumping up and down on pockets of air. I was really glad we’d had that chat, as with my eyes closed tight, my stomach lurched again, as the plane bucked and plunged, ploughing through pockets of air somewhere between Frankfurt and Addis Ababa in Ethiopia
Several hours of snatched sleep and three movies later, my climbing buddy Vera grabbed my arm excitedly to show me the dawn through the window. Such a pity I couldn’t see it from my seat! Yawning and putting the seat back up for arrivals, I stretched out cramped legs and thanked the universe for making me a shorty.
The boys looked like their knees were wrapped around their ears. Off the plane into a cold, crisp, but sunny morning. No rain here in Ethiopia, that’s waiting for us in Uganda. Two buses later, we piled out onto the Tarmac a five minute walk away from the plane we just left….and minus one member of the team.
Subsequent inquiries suggested James, or ‘Jam’ as we call him, was on a different bus. It’s been 20 minutes now and we’re still waiting for the bus to transport Jam the five-minute walk from the plane, which has now taxied away. But it’s pleasant sitting here on the runway in the early morning sun. Can’t really go much further without him really. After all, Jam’s leading the expedition….
My ‘Happy Feet’ relay team for the Lough Key triathlon was waiting for me at registration when I turned up, shoulders shrugged high, to stop the torrential rain running down my neck, realising the futility of keeping dry – when I was just about to jump in a lake!
As I walked up to the girls, I couldn’t help gawping at the big yellow markers on the water, that were clearly marking the swim. To my eye, the markers seemed far too distant from the shore; surely they’d made a mistake? It looked so much further than I thought 740metres would look like. There were shrieks and hugs as we met up and shared training disaster stories from the past week; but all the time I felt butterflies the size of bats in my gut. I shouldn’t have eaten breakfast, I knew I shouldn’t. The egg and ham and goats’ cheese and spinach soufle that my host had made me, was now hanging heavily on my mind.
I was doing the swim, Teresa the cycle and Anna had been roped in at the last minute with a dodgy knee and very little notice, to cover the final 5k run. It had all seemed so simple to offer to swim the 750m for team Happy Feet, until I read the briefing notes with just a week and a half to go, and realised there was a 30 min elimination time on the swim! Pressure, and not enough time to train. If you followed my training blog here, you’ll know I tried to short-cut my lack of speed-work by swimming without a wet-suit, against the tide at Malahide Beach in North Dublin. I suppose I thought that if I made myself suffer as much hardship and discomfort as possible, I might feel more comfortable, and swim faster, when I had to get in the lake. Well it was a theory at the time, and the only one I had! My big problem was that although I was comfortable doing the distance, I had no speed and was planning to complete the distance in 40mins. The briefing notes blew that out of the water – if you’ll excuse the pun.
Well I put my shoulder to the wheel – or tide – and soaked up all the tips I could drag from my Hi-Rock swimming friends in Malahide, and in particular ‘Chanimal’ – Channel Swimmer, Fergal Somerville. Deep, even breaths – long, measured strokes, no panic. Now today was the day.
As the other athletes gathered in the holding pen, adjusting swim caps and goggles, stretching to warm up arms and legs and shoulders; they looked sleek and professional, I sneakily looked around comparing the size of my belly with everyone elses. I thought mine looked much bigger, and I grimaced. A throwback to my days of being 23stone. These days I’m just under 12 stone and still a bit on the curvy size, but despite no longer being morbidly obese, I still have body-image flashbacks, especially when I’m standing on the shore in a screamingly tight wet suit along with 300 taller, slimmer, fitter looking people. I just had to remind myself that I was strong and healthy and capable of taking them all on. (I just didn’t really believe it).
The Public Address speakers crackled into life and there were speeches and applause as the rain continued to fall and we stood, shuffling our bare feet in the wet grass, wishing for the start. Eventually we got the nod and as one, we swimmers moved towards the water. It was all new to me, we were to get into the lake and swim to warm up, before the start was called. I followed the leaders and reached the water’s edge, noting the lack of reaction from the other swimmers and imitating their composure as I stepped calmly into the lake, biting down a gasp at the cold. Up to my ankles, my knees, my chest and finally I’m swimming, then finding some space to keep treading until the race ‘got the off’. This part was unexpected, and I felt a tremor of adrenalin or something close to fear. I was out of my depth, I couldn’t swim out with a proper stroke or I’d crash into the swimmers ahead. I was just bobbing about getting cold, and I didn’t like it. I determinedly removed my mind from the lake and imagined I was going through my yoga routines in the sun, and felt the warmth and the calm flood through my legs and up through my body to my arms. I relaxed. We’d go when we’d go – and finally the human wave washed back towards me, as the race began.
I reached out into the dark waters of the lake, pushing my head under water and noticing the pink hue of the feet in front, dyed red by the peaty flood waters. I had taken the other swimmers’ advice and kept out of the crush at the start, for fear of being dragged or accidentally thumped in the fury of the moment. I took my line against the yellow marker out near an island in the lake and just swam. I didn’t try to go fast, hearing Fergal’s comments a week before, telling me that trying to go fast was the fastest way to slow down. I wasn’t sure if he was right, but I was taking his comments on board. After about 250 metres, the 1st marker was drawing close and I realised there was a crush emerging as the swimmers tried to get a tight line around it. I didn’t. I pulled left and gave it – and them – a wide berth. I think I actually gained time instead of losing time, as I swung wide arount the buoy and the human soup, and took my line to the next marker.
I had told myself that if I was comfortable after the first 250, I would step up the speed on the 2nd leg. It worked fine, I stretched out and increased my speed, breathing deeper into my lungs and concentrating on rolling smoothly to catch my breath, keeping my face down between strokes and pulling my arms smoothly through the water. Quicker than I expected, I reached the second marker, and swept around to face back into the shore. I looked up, and saw swimmers far ahead and far behind. At my right was an orange kayak, on hand to help if I needed it. I didn’t need it. I saw the last marker, saw the shore, put my head down – and bombed it. I gave the last 250 every last bit of energy and strength and felt excitement well up inside me. I’m not sure why, I just felt powerful and thrilled because whatever the time on the clock, I wasn’t the last person in the lake, and I knew I had the energy to get me back to shore. Stumbling out of the water, I took the waiting helping hand eagerly and pulled myself free of the lake, then sprinted to the holding paddock and my teammates. Pulling the electronic tag from my left ankle and passing it to Teresa, I recognised she was excitedly shouting at me about the time. I felt tears well up as I realised I’d made the 30 minutes…. and more.
Later, with the time confirmed at 22 minutes. I joked that it was the egg and spinich ‘Pop-Eye’ breakfast after all (thanks Mary) but I was humbled. This body of mine, that I have so abused in my lifetime, again pulled out a blinder for me. With less than 2 weeks to prepare, it had delivered all I asked, and I had smashed my own time. I felt like one of our Olympians, I could proudly say I had a PB and I’d smashed it! It was hard work getting here; swimming in cold, choppy, waters off Malahide, hours of weight training in the gym on our few sunny days, and a lot of self doubt. But the help I got, the support from my friends, from FB and Twitter, and all the generous tips and training swims I got from Fergal and his Hi-Rock mates, had paid off. I’d made it – and Team Happy feet could run and cycle the rest of the way, without being disqualified by the swimmer!
You know, when I started training for our Concern/Uganda: hiking, cycling & kayaking challenge in November, I never thought I’d end up long-distance swimming too. But I suppose it all helps with general fitness. What’s next? Well, the whole Concern group is due to climb Carrauntoohil, Ireland’s highest mountain this Sunday; and that’s going to hurt – because with all the time I’ve spent cycling, swimming, working-out in the gym and learning to kayak, I’ve somewhat neglected my hill climbing. There is a reckoning a-coming on Sunday. And do you know? there’s a 750m sea swim in Killiney on Saturday….. 😉
Day two at Malahide. A solo swim with ‘Chanimal’ Fergal Somerville, my long-distance swimmer angel who’s taken me under his considerable wing, to give me tips on how to make a 750m open water swim in Roscommon this Sunday – in 30 minutes.
You’ll know from yesterday’s training blog that the pressure is on with a vengeance. I agreed to do the ‘swim’ section of a relay triathlon in Lough Key Forest Park, but didn’t realise until last week that there was a disqualification time; which means I’m now at risk of getting my whole team chucked out, if I don’t get my speed up! *gulp*
Tonight we arrived at Middle Rock beach in Malahide as the tide was ‘filling’ or ‘coming in’. There were no other swimmers and despite the sunny evening, I shivered at the thought of getting into the cold water. I’ve dipped into the sea a couple of times now, but that first couple of minutes when I’m getting used to the cold, still doesn’t seem to be getting any easier!
As soon as I stopped gasping for breath, I reached out and pulled off in the direction of High Rock, the plan being to swim for 30 minutes again tonight, but try and cover a bit more ground. I was anxious to try out some tips that my friends on FB had been suggesting over the past 24 hours. I shortened my breathing periods, breathing on every fourth stroke instead of every 6th. I pushed my legs deeper into the water and tried to avoid losing energy by letting them splash, and I continued with Fergal’s advice and made long, steady strokes, concentrating on making my arms enter and leave the water cleanly.
I got into a really fast rhythm and swam and swam, until Fergal swam up for a check and chat again and told me I’d been swimming 10 minutes. I felt amazing, I felt I was flying tonight. I looked up and looked around in anticipation. I reckoned I had gone way past High Rock and was on my way to the next point, the Tower. I looked hard, searching out recognisable landmarks, trying to make my eyes cut through the setting sun to make sense of the dark silhouette of the shore. I pulled my goggles off in amazement. I was nowhere close! I had got twice this distance in the same time last night. I wasn’t gutted, but I was a bit browned off. Was I tired, were the different strokes slowing me down? How could I have felt so fast and swam so short a distance. After a quick chat with Fergal I decided I wanted to keep going – so we ended up swimming out for 20 minutes. I actually made it past High Rock and halfway to the tower before deciding to turn back – prepared for another 20 minute swim back. That would give me a swim of 40 mins instead of 30, so even if I’d missed out on speed, it would help my fitness and endurance, and that can’t hurt on Sunday.
We turned, and the sun sparkled on the drops running down my arm as I stretched out and swam back into the dying gold of the day. I kept my head out of the water for a couple of minutes as I swam. I didn’t feel tired. I wasn’t scared about the 20 minute return trip, and I took a few moments to simply enjoy the swim and the sea and the low flying birds that seemed to skate along the surface of the surrounding sea. Head down I pushed on again and 10 minutes later, I got a tap on the shoulder from a laughing Fergal. We were back at Middle Rock. 20-minutes to swim out and just 10 to get back. He explained we’d had a tougher current than we thought running against us on the trip out, and it helped us on the return. I ended up doing a slightly longer swim than last night, in about the same time. And that folks, means I probably did the 750m in 30 mins!!! Okay, difficult to judge what role the tides played, and I’ll have to wear a wetsuit under the rules on Sunday, which might either help or hinder me…but mentally – I feel more confident. I think I can do it. I’m not convinced I will – but I’m confident that I can.
Now all I can do is continue to train gently up to about Friday and have a rest day on Saturday and then give it sox on Sunday. Fingers and fins crossed! lol… and if you have any more tips for me, feel free to add a comment down below.
Well, I’m hoping to have a matching photo for this shot – by the end of the day. This is Fergal Sommerville or ‘Chanimal’ to his friends. Fergal swam the English Channel last November in a super time, and he’s taking me out swimming today at Malahide. I’ve swum with Fergal and the High-Rock swimmers before, quite a few times. Fergal had dared me to swim in the Irish Sea, and I said I would, if he swam the channel.. at the time I didn’t know that was exactly what he was training to do!!! You could say, he snookered me!
Anyway, I may have swam with them before, but never like today. I’m a in a different frame of mind and I’m ready to change the stakes. I’m probably motivated by the prospect of my triathlon swim in Roscommon on Sunday, when I have to swim 750m in a lake in under 30-mins or risk disqualifying the rest of my relay team from the cycle and running laps. Today in Malahide I want to push the envelope a bit.
The pressure’s on, and for the first time I want to put myself to a bit of a test. On previous swims, I just swam out with the pack for about 10 minutes and then struck back for home. Today I want to try and put a bit of distance under my belt. I’ve never swam long enough to get tired, so I have no idea what will happen if I swim a decent distance – but run out of steam on the way back.
There’s lots of questions in my mind; will I get cold, will I get tired, will I make a fool of myself, should I try it without a wetsuit?
Should have a few answers for you by tomorrow! Fingers crossed……
I feel a bit tired just reading that myself, but it wasn’t planned, it all sort of ‘happened’. I hadn’t been on the bike since the Triathlon on Saturday, for all sorts of reasons – most of them connected with laziness, but then I saw on the weather forecast that Thursday was going to be a good day in Dublin, so I decided to roll out the wheels and start cycling into work again. I’m not saying I’m fast (I’m not) but I really felt the benefits of the ‘work cycle’ when I did the 18k in Kilkenny; and cycling into work means I HAVE to time myself and cycle to time. As it happens, I do seem to have knocked a few minutes off – I left the house at 620am and found myself on Pearse Street at 7 – with time for a quick cup of coffee, sitting in the sun, beside the bike, beside the canal… before I went into the office. What a lovely way to start the day.
After work I cycled back home – via the gym. I wasn’t looking forward to that. It’s a time-trial too, because I’m reading the news at 3pm, and have to make the gym by 4pm, which is a bit tight. Whenever I’m late, Dave my trainer, makes me suffer by stepping up the intensity of the session, to make up for the minutes I lost. This time I was on time, but he still creamed me! We did kettleweights and quite a lot of squat-lifts with fairly decent weights. My shoulders feel a bit sore after that today.
By the time I’d finished the gym, there was just enough time left to grill some chicken, dress some salad – wolf it down, and throw on a swim cossie and wetsuit, before belting out the door for the river. I really didn’t feel like kayaking – I had 6 training weeks of being forced to capsize for hours on end, and I just wanted to sit in the boat and be dry for once. It was unlikely to be tonight – I was having my first go at water polo and the boats are a lot more unstable than the learner kayaks I’d been using up to now. They’re tiny and light and overbalance in a heartbeat. Well to my suprise and my club-mates’ amusement – I left the river with dry hair. I was so damned determined not to fall out, that I remembered every trick in the book that they’d taught me the last few weeks. Blocks and brace turns, and balance and leaning forward. The works – there was NO WAY that I was getting wet this time, and I walked away a dry kayaker. lol…
PS. Loved the water polo.
PSS. You know, I started off dreading everything this Thursday and ended up enjoying the lot. Says something, doesn’t it…..?