A good practice run

I have always had a thing with cold water. So I wasn't exactly thrilled to learn the water temperature in the Swedish lake Vättern was around 15 degrees two weeks before the Swedish championships long distance race in Motala.

If you are not perfectly familiar with the terminology of triathlon, the international long distance is a bit shorter than the famous ironman distance – however, the swim is a bit longer, 4K instead of 3,8K.

In the days leading up to the race, I was actually kind of hoping the water would not get any warmer, thus forcing the organizers to shorten the swim. Fat chance.

Somehow, race organizers always seem to be able to find the right spot in the water to measure the temperature. A couple of days before the race, the water temperature amazingly rose from 15 degrees to 16 degrees to 17 degrees.

My anxiety wasn't relieved by the fact my travelling companion, Kim Harju is a swim freak who thrives in exceptionally cold water. For me, comfortable temperature for a wet suit swim is around 20 degrees.

I got so desperate I got me one of those really gay and unaesthetic neoprene hoods, which you are allowed to wear under your swim cap. It really helps keeping your body temperature high, because, contrary to popular belief, you lose most heat via your head, not for example your fingers and toes.

On the race morning, the water temperature was 16,5 degrees while the air temperature was 15 degrees. Thus, the real water temperature was 16 degrees – precisely at the limit.

The start happened in the water, but I waited until the very last minute to jump into the lake. Besides, the organisers warned that there is a lot of glass on the bottom of the lake, so I wasn't about to be standing around in the water anyway.

It felt cold. Awfully cold. Fingers and toes disappeared after a couple of minutes. Good thing was, it was easy to navigate, because you could use landmarks, like a bridge and buildings on the shore, for navigation. Bad thing was, after one 2000 m lap I could not straighten my fingers any more – I was just dragging my limp hands through the water.

After a swim that felt like it would never end, I came out of the water and entered the transition area, mostly lucky to have made it without suffering hypothermia symptoms (done that, too). This time, the transition went quite fast, because I had, for the first time during my fifteen years of doing triathlons, tried to apply vaseline to my ankles. Thus, the wet suit came off quite nicely.

I went out as hard as I could on the bike and I was really flying, but soon I had to settle into a more gentle pace. Even though the course was quite flat, it was somewhat windy, and there were some rather technical corners which slowed me down.

Most of the traffic was redirected, but there were a few segments where there was plenty of traffic and it could have gotten really ugly. There were a couple of roundabouts, where you had to cross your way around the slower cars. Needless to say, the drivers didn't seem to care about the race happening all around them.

It was noteworthy to see how little drafting there was, compared to most races in Finland and, also, most Ironman races around Europe. The draft zone was exceptionally 12 meters, and I didn't think I saw anyone breaking that rule. Of course, there were only around 250 athletes on the road, and it was a 4 times 30 km bike course. But I think it is a matter of respect – as soon as you overtook someone, they fell back and didn't hang on to your draft zone.

Except for the wind, the weather was really good for racing. I soon got warm and was able to raise my cadence and speed during the second and third lap. Of course, a thunder storm was rising and soon cold rain was pouring down. The temperature dropped to around 10 degrees, and I praised myself for having to foresight to don long sleeves.

The rain was intense, but short. As the bike leg was nearing the end, the wet asphalt was steaming in the sun. My heart rate was approaching 150 beats per minute, up from around 135 at the beginning of the bike leg. I finished the bike leg with an average speed of 35 kph, which was perhaps a little bit less than expected.

Still, 120K felt like quite a trip, and I couldn't escape the thought it was merely a third of an ironman bike leg. As I approached transition, though, I was more acutely worried about how I would manage my first 30K run in almost two years.

Returning to the transition are, I found my running shoes and gear soaking wet. As I set out for the run, I heard a splashing sound from the water in my K-Swiss shoes.

As expected, I felt stiff and uncomfortable. But as the rule of thumb goes, it is normal to feel awful during the first 1-2 kilometers, but after that, as your neurological system, your blood flow and your muscles adapt to running, it gets easier.

The false high usually hits you after 5 kilometers, when you start hitting your stride and do not feel any fatigue yet. That is when you manage to pace yourself – otherwise it will come back to haunt you later on in the race.

I didn't. And it came back to haunt me.

Problem is, at the moment I am a much faster cyclist than runner. Consequently, I overtook dozens of competitors during the bike leg, only to turn into a slalom pin at the beginning of the run. And, although you know you should race your own race, it is hard to fight your instincts to put up a fight when someone overtakes you.

First 15K went well, but then the backlash hit me. The only really positive thing at that stage was that the run course turned out to be a 3 times 10K affair. Somehow I had gotten the perception it would be a psychologically challenging 4 times 7,5K.

And then another thunder storm hit us, like the wrath of the viking gods. Suddenly, it was freezing cold again and my shoes and socks were all covered in mud as the run course swirled through a park and a forest area near the shore of Vättern.

If the last 5K of the second lap was a battle, the last 10K lap was mayhem. I was at the stage where people seem to be walking by you and every single step hurts a bit. And then, you may have guessed it, yet another thunder storm hit us. And this was bad. The wind was whipping rain into our faces as we ran along the shore towards the finish line.

But it is always fun to race in Sweden. The atmosphere is really good, spectators and competitors are supportive. Of course, you may feel a sting of hurt pride when someone overtakes you and quips "good job, keep going". But compare that to, say, last weeks Helsinki Triathlon Cup sprint, where somebody actually hit me during the swim after I had accidentally touched his toes.

Somehow I battled my way back to the finish area and crossed the goal line in a, somewhat disappointing, time of 7.46,34. However, as I stood in the goal area, champing strawberries, I comforted myself with having accomplished the most important goals for the day.

One was surviving the swim and proving to myself I can manage cold water. A second was to complete the 30K run, as a preparation for the Ironman Copenhagen in August. It hurt, but it was a good workout ahead of Copenhagen. Hopefully, the weather will be more pleasant in Denmark.