Post-Race Wash Up

I am sat drinking a fantastic Belgian beer updating my blog. It's a Kasteel for those in the know.
Mrs H had me limping around a few breweries yesterday

Pre-Race
Arrived at the campsite, checked out the course and then provided mechanical support for Jonny C. The emotional support would come later. Hubs sorted and tyres stuck it was time to check out the scenic bike course. Scenic for those with a love of docks. I'd be concentrating too much to take in the scenery anyway.

We then met up with the NYP Crazy Gang. Mrs H and I were made to feel like part of the gang. Well Mrs H was, I was just an associate member. Beers were drunk and food was eaten. I'll describe it as food but we were calling it allsorts when Mrs H and I both woke up on the Satdi with dodgy tummies. Satdi was race day for Mrs H. Time for her to show the locals her race face. The sun shone, we cheered and Mrs H came a creditable 14th........ once the tri-bars had been removed. This was a draft legal race. The ex-bike racer in Mr H was somewhat envious. Time then to set Mrs H's bike "Betty Ribble" up for Debs to borrow for the 70.3. Debs already has a bike but now some thieving Frenchman has it after lifting off the roof of the car at the Tour de France the week before.

Race Day
I wake up at 5am and the rain is lashing it down on the roof of the tent. I manage to sneak some more Z's but it's still raining when I do get up to eat. Antwerp is under very grey clouds, low clouds and the rain is bouncing off the roads. I packed my kit and rode down to the Swim start and T1. Its cold too, many people have chosen to put their wetsuit on to ride to the start. That would have been a good idea cos now I’m shaking (I don't do insulation. I didn't do it very well when I was 4Kg heavier). Putting my wetsuit on is tricky as now I'm soaked and the suit is getting a soaking as I try put it on. Rack and line up. It's the countdown. The "Williams mantra" is recited in my head and perhaps out-loud. "This is why we do it; this is what it has all been about". The rain keeps falling and I’m now smiling. I've lost count of the number of races and training sessions I’ve done in the rain. I'm British, it rains. This is Belgium, it rains. Get over it and keep moving on. The rain and wind should have been expected. They actually made my day. The wind was nothing to be scared of and would only slow down the weaker bikers (usually the better runners).

Swim
The hooter sounds and the human soup begins. It's a bun fight but I know I’m making good progress. I climb out of the water in a time that I am truly proud of and wish to thank everyone who helps me with my swimming.

Bike
Into T1 - time for a shave? Perhaps, I was in there a long time but it's cold, raining and windy. A gillet is required as too are the gels. Then it's time to play to my strengths. 6 people passed me on the bike. A rarity but there are some gifted athletes here so why be surprised. Stick to the game plan. Check the heart rate, check the Watts, check the time, have some Powerbar gels/bars. Keep going...

Out into the sticks at last. Through some small villages. No time for the flashbacks to training through the very same villages 15 years ago when I first came to Holland to learn how to race bikes. Then heading back into Antwerp. I've been constantly passing people but now on the home leg the streets are empty. I catch a glimpse of other riders occasionally and realise I am now at the sharp end.

Run
Helmet off, run shoes on. Grab my race hat and kiss the saddle of my bike. "Thanks for not letting me down". Running out of T2 I made the usual deal with my body "90 minutes, that's all I ask of you". I'm out on the streets of Antwerp and I'm running fast. My legs are turning over nicely and I'm passing people again. The dodgy guts are holding up and I'm actually smiling. For the moment, I'm bullet-proof but I don't know how long this will last. I take one gel per laps and hope my body will accept and not reject it. Thankfully the "small friend in the back of my shorts" is a false-alarm. I know I'm on a good pace and everything has fallen into place. The last laps sees an increase in pace and I start to run out of tokens for the meter. I know I can hold this to the finish though. Into the Grote Makt for the finish, Mrs H hands me a Union Flag and I cross the line. Fall over and have the usual shall I vomit debate.

The results were listed very quickly. third in my age group? Must be a typo or mistake. I'll have to attend the Qualification meeting to see how I've done. Perhaps some World Championship Clearwater qualification slots may role down far enough for me to find out my placing.

Presentation
In the Grote Markt, grab a glass of wine and go find out the scores on the doors. Debs (of Betty Ribble fame/frame) is there with Simon, her chief bike washer and bottle carrier. Not many slots available in that age group but they roll down a few names and suddenly Debs is heading towards the front of the room saying "I'm Deborah..." and Simon is heading to the cash point.
Onto the men’s slots....... I was wrong, there was no mistake. I was third in my age-group and a Clearwater slot was mine if I wanted it. "Yes" I cheered, followed by a very subdued "No".
I may not be going but I know someone who is. Best of luck Debs but I think you might want to get your own bike this time.

Post race - a few beers and another Italian. Did I make the right decision to let my slot go? I'll never know but I'm not sure my new "sponsor" would permit me the time off and Clearwater was never part of the plan. I'm sure whoever got the first roll down slot would thank me for it.

Plan in head was - Go to Antwerp. Go as hard as you can, make no mistakes and you will leave a good account of yourself.

Job done.
Pic's to follow. Sorry