Barcelona Triathlon
After completing the Loch Lomond Beastie Sprint Triathlon, my ego was a little bruised. The panic attack during the swim had knocked my confidence, and being overtaken by the elderly as I failed to cycle fast enough hadn’t helped much either. Regardless of this, I was excited and looking forward to attempting a full triathlon!
I chose the Barcelona Triathlon and would recommend this race to any first-timers as the surroundings and organization were amazing. At the time, my sister lived in Barcelona, so I knew I’d have a familiar face to see and a place to stay for the weekend. I always like to do races abroad if I can, as I feel like it adds a little more excitement to the experience. I did the same for my first marathon when a bunch of my friends and I went to Copenhagen.
Having friends with you can also be a great help. As well as cheering you on, they can manage some of the logistics for you. There's a lot that goes into these weekends, and once your race is over, it’s nice to have less exhausted people around to help.
After my sprint triathlon, I’d learned my lesson about not following a training plan, so I searched online for an Olympic distance program that matched my goal and the amount of time I had left until the race, which was now only a few months.
On hearing about my struggles with my wetsuit and knowing I didn’t have a decent bike, my friend Tony from the gym, who’d already competed in some triathlons as well as a half Ironman, very kindly offered to lend me his gear. This meant that I now had a significantly better wetsuit and roadworthy bike to train with. The wetsuit I borrowed was his Foor Quantum, which I loved. It had a few slight tears in the material, so training in the cold waters of Scotland provided an extra nip, but as the water temperature in Barcelona was going to be in the mid-20s Celsius, I wasn’t too fussed. The bike was a Giant OCR. Tony effectively became my de facto sponsor; he gave me gear, introduced me to an outdoor swimming club, and offered solid advice whenever I needed it. I can’t really thank him enough for the support he provided, and he stands as the perfect example of why joining a local club can be incredibly beneficial.
The difference in the wetsuit was immediate; swimming in a properly fitted wetsuit felt like I was gliding through the water, it felt effortless. Tony’s bike was a size larger than I needed, but as he was saving me a small fortune, I was happy to endure the small discomfort. At the time, I didn’t realize how big of an impact this would have when my Ironman came around, but that's for a later post. As this was a relatively short training window and I was planning to rent a bike on the day, I didn’t think too much about it.
My mentality shift in training went up a gear too. While I was realistically only competing against myself, it now felt like I was in the big leagues. A sprint triathlon is a great intro, but it isn't the real deal; a full triathlon is what you see in the Olympics, and so it felt like a more serious endeavor.
My training in the few months leading up to the race was good; it was a quick turnaround from the sprint triathlon, so I’d continued my momentum. I concentrated on the elements that I'd struggled with previously, swimming with my new wetsuit and with a group of people, to become as comfortable as I possibly could with both of these elements.
The race was on a Sunday, so I'd booked my flight over for Friday to get myself settled a few days early. I don’t particularly enjoy flying, so I had a few beers while waiting to board my flight in an effort to calm my nerves. When I arrived in Barcelona, I got a train from the airport into town and met my sister for some food and, inevitably, more beer. The next day, I went to get my bike and headed down to the registration zone to check in and collect my race gear. I walked around for a little while to familiarize myself with the course and then stood on the beachfront, looking out at the buoys that marked the swim course. I noted, with some dread, that the waves were looking pretty big.
My mind was still plagued with the memory of panicking during the swim of my sprint triathlon, and here I was about to swim double the distance in the open sea. I was terrified. I honestly thought there was a high probability I was going to drown—an irrational fear in hindsight, but at that moment, I believed it. To be fair, it held some validity in my mind due to the fact I'd never attempted something on this scale before. But I told myself that this was the whole point: signing up for something where there's a genuine chance that I might fail. Granted, hopefully not by drowning, but at least I would be failing in my attempt to push myself to achieve something difficult that would force me to grow.
I never sleep particularly well the night before a race. It feels somewhat like a kid before Christmas, except more anxiety-inducing as Santa requires you to run laps up and down the chimney for hours to get your presents. The morning of race day came soon enough, though.
The weather was slightly cloudy and overcast, which was ideal. You don’t want rain, as it can be dangerous if cycling with the potential for falls and can lead to chafing from your damp clothes, but you also don’t want lots of sun, as you’ll be sweating a lot. Swimming, cycling, or running in the sun for hours, even if you only do one of them, will drain your energy. You need to start thinking about the potential of heat stroke, having enough water, sunscreen, etc. That’s not to say you can’t race on a warm and sunny day, but it adds considerations that you’d ideally rather not have to deal with.
As the Barcelona triathlon is a fairly large event, they’d grouped people to start in waves based on the predicted finish time we all entered when signing up. I wasn’t in the first wave, so I watched as a few groups departed ahead of me. I noticed that there were already a few people turning back towards the beach, and my anxiety grew. Soon enough, though, it was my turn. I lined up on the beach, made my peace with God, and sheepishly tiptoed into the water.
To my relief, swimming in the sea was amazing. There were no waves, and the water was a balmy 25°C. While quite deep, I could see the ocean floor and all the fish buzzing around the coral as I swam overhead. It felt like I was swimming in a giant aquarium. Yes, I realize the ocean is, in fact, a giant aquarium, but let me have my moment. My point is more that it was enjoyable. I had the peace of mind to take in the surroundings as opposed to the panic and terror I’d been anticipating. I can tell you that swimming off the coast of Spain compared to a loch in Scotland are very different experiences.
The rest of the race was a breeze. The course was made up of repetitive laps, so my sister sat in a cafe as I whizzed around the city on my bike. The run came last, and with that, the finish line. I ended up coming in 772nd out of 1,096 people, with a time of 2 hours and 52 minutes.
On reflection, my biggest takeaway from the weekend was how much easier it had felt compared to the sprint triathlon. I realized this was down to the fact that I’d spent so much of my training focusing on the elements and situations that I’d struggled with previously. By addressing these challenges and becoming as comfortable as possible with them in training, I knew exactly what to expect and how to react if they occurred again on race day.
At the end of the race, I was pumped. Not only had I finished it and conquered my fear of the swim, but I’d enjoyed it too. What was the next goal then, an Ironman? I’d never seriously considered it, but now I was. What if I could do it...