The obsession around Kampala recently has been over the Lake Victoria triathlon. This involves a 1000 metre swim in the lake, followed by a 30km bike ride and a 10km run. Now I knew from the beginning that I was not going to be keen on the running section, so I asked a friend to make a team with me, but thought that the swim and the bike sounded quite reasonable.
Training began quite well, as a gang of us took advantage of the pool in the club and pedalled to nowhere in the gym. As the time drew nearer, I realised I should really hit the road for real on a proper bike. Now, after all my woeful problems with the car, I could not afford to splash out on a new set of wheels, so asked around to see if I could borrow one. I was a little too late in doing this, so 2 weeks prior to the event, I was still bikeless. Then I had a fantastic idea - I could borrow my guard's bike. It didn't look too bad from a distance, just like quite an old mountain bike. So I have bagged myself a bargain, I thought. For the small sum of 7000 Shillings to fix the brakes and I would be sorted. Then I went out on the bumpy roads. My first outdoor bike ride here was one with moments of sheer terror. As very few of the roads through the villages are actually paved, and it had not rained for a good few weeks, I ended up hurtling down the sandy and lumpy roads, dodging matatus and boda bodas. And did I mention the hugely uncomfortable saddle? Although I am the first person to admit that my friends do actually cycle faster than I do, the lack of gears meant that I was a long long way behind them. As I pedalled furiously in a vain attempt to catch up with them, I was greeted with a number of catcalls from passing Ugandans, ranging from 'You are the last', 'Pedal harder' to the most inaccurate of all 'You are lazy muzungu' (this was actually whilst flying down one of the hills with my hands squeezed firmly over the brakes). After this experience I realised I was in need of a sturdier bike and decided to rent one, which in the end felt much safer and more comfortable.
The day before the race, I went to stay the night in Entebbe with my triathlon partner and a faithful gang of supporters. We went out for a meal on the beach and after an exceptionally long wait (in the meantime being attacked by various flying creatures) I loaded up on a ridiculous amount of carbs in preparation for the following day's activities.
If there were a prize for registering early, then we would have won gold, as we arrived at the time given on the instructions. Why do I never learn? I tried to eat the breakfast given to us by the B & B, but frankly, I wasn't in the mood for a cold toasted egg sandwich, so decided to give it a miss. We all collected our t-shirts, posed for photos and dipped our toes cautiously into the lake.
A few minutes later, the moment of reckoning finally arrived. A whistle blew (or some sort of signal, to be honest it's a bit of a blur) and we all waded unto the water. As the race began, it was totally hectic, with everybody fighting for space and people accidentally grabbing hold of legs, feet and arms in a bid to get ahead. I went for it, front crawl, face down ... for about a hundred metres. Then panic hit me. I'm not sure whether any thoughts ran through my head, or whether it was just a shutdown and being unable to catch a breath, but I imagine it would be something along the lines of 'Oh my goodness, this lake is very deep, the floaty things we have to swim around are very far away and I think there's going to be a huge electrical storm very soon'. For a moment, I had to just stay still, treading water and recuperating. A very nice lady asked if I was OK and stopped by me for a moment to check I wasn't going to drown1 Eventually I got it together, but had to swim the whole thing breaststroke with my head above water, which is not exactly quick. Infact the only stroke slower than that is probably the doggy paddle. The swim was designed to take you in a triangle and as I was just about reaching the second point, the storm that had been threatening made an appearance. So wonderful, there I was, miles (well a couple of hundred metres) from the shore, in the middle of a lake, with massive waves and not even being able to see the flags we were supposed to be aiming for. I was heading off in the wrong direction until another teacher called me over and stopped me from being lost at sea (or even lake).
Then for the bike ride. As I ran in, I had hoped that somebody would have moved the kit I put out in advance to keep it dry. No such luck. I scrambled around and found that my shorts were still fairly dry and I would just have to deal with soggy trainers and a sopping wet t-shirt. I threw them on, hoped that the sun wouldn't start to shine too brightly, as I was still dripping wet and the sun cream refused to stick to my skin. All of this took at least ten minutes, which was actually being added to my time. A few minutes later and I was off. The bike ride took me through the Botanical Gardens, then basically a big loop around the airfield and through some small villages and back to the lake where we started. I would also like to mention that I definitely cycled more than the planned 30km, as I missed a turning and went right up as far as the entrance to the airport. When I was there, I wasted a further 5-10 minutes trying to negotiate with the airport security staff to let me pedal through, as I was sure the whole triathlon was passing through and wondered why they didn't jut realise I was part of that, until a little girl came running up to me to tell me that I missed a turn and should go back! Great - as if I needed anything else to slow me down, and then I had gone further than I needed to. I have to say that the most worrying moment was when I asked somebody the time and they replied a quarter to three - now this had to be impossible as I had set off on the bike at roughly 8am and was sure as hell I hadn't been cycling for 7 hours, even though my bum was getting a bit sore by that point. I visualised a clock and decided that it must have been a quarter past nine and that the lady I spoke to wasn't sure what the big and little hand on the watch meant (or her watch was broken, or her grasp of the English language was not too great - let's face it, they are all possibilities). My favourite moment of the race had to be the point on the big hill, where I was feeling a bit tired and the marshall gave me a push up! In the end, I made it through and was very relieved to get back to the sailing club and set my partner off on the run (poor thing who had to wait a ridiculously long time for me to return).
You will have guessed by now that I found the whole triathlon to be a bit of a struggle. So you may be surprised to hear that I am in fact a silver medalist - which is pretty amazing considering I had such terrible times. So I would like to thank the third women's team for dropping out at the last minute and allowing me to get a prize for my endeavours. Next year I'm looking to set up a category just for me and am going for gold!!
