Trial training – triathlon in self -experiment: everything is possible

Oh, nope, ey! That shouldn’t be true. Please don’t! I trained for four months for today. Five, six, seven times a week my trainer ran, run or swim-preparation for my triathlon attempt, in which I let the ND readers participate from the start. Today is a premiere at the Fehmarn triathlon. The start signal for the Olympic distance is sounded and I ran into the upset water with 250 people from the southern beach of the castle. But now I stand in the 16 degree cold Baltic Sea. And don’t swim. Instead, I grab air.

The waves hit me against the chest as I see how the competition in white whirls snatch away. Slowly I wade further into the surf and try to calm my frenzied breath. There is a terrible tightness in my chest, my heart beats quickly. There is no thought of crawls. Is that a joke? After all the effort! Why me? Why now? I could cry.

I check my heartbeat on the sports watch: 140 strokes per minute, which is quite normal under load. Is the new neoprene too tight? Did I rip off the chest strap that measures my pulse too much? Or am I just too excited? Adrenaline rushes through my blood just enough. Stage fright because of 1.5 km swimming, 43 km cycling and 10 km running? Come on!

Trial training

Photo: ND

ND editor Jirka Grahl tries something new, at the start of triathlon. On September 14th. Was competition premiere at the Fehmarn triathlon: 1500 m swimming, 43 km bike, 10 km run.

Calm! Capture breathing! Stay cool! I try to concentrate. Once again I let myself slide into the water and try whether I can dive my head for a crawl. I lift him again. No chance. My heart races. And I also feel a bit queasy: is that an infarction light or what?

I remember what my trainer has blown into me: everything is possible, you have to have an answer to any imponderability, it is best to think about the reaction before! Well, I’m not prepared for sudden breathing clamp, but I try to keep my nerves. Calm blood! Then I just swim chest, basta!

I keep my head over water like a seahorse test. Because of the shortage of air, it is difficult for me. I turn on my back and look around for the lifeguards. You drive behind us in a boat. I probably won’t drown. To my surprise, I find that there are actually four or five people who are still behind me. “Fire whip!” One left of me calls and hectically avoids an arch.

Better, right?

If slowly: I swim, chest. From the left the salt water spills on my face, on the right I see the pier full of spectators. My wife and son are somewhere. I have promised them that I will never take care of it here. Wouldn’t it be easier, I break off? Swimming is actually my best discipline, hardly conceivable that I will collect the competitors from the end of the field. Yes, seriously, better get out than to arrive here as one of the last at the finish line! Or?

Next, keep on! At some point I reach the third boje, now it’s back to the beach. Because the water is flat, I can wade a large part. On land it is time to run about 50 meters and then go to the second round of the 750-meter course. Finally I reach the bank. It is the perfect time to get out. I just have to decide: do I stop? Wouldn’t that be the best? I don’t want to go to the finish with all embarrassment at the end of the field?

Joggend I reach the pier, where my wife is ready to cheer and looks at it: “What’s going on?” I tell her my shortness of breath, and she also says that you stop being absolutely okay if necessary: ​​Then the next time it works! She hugs me. The seconds to betray, I almost want to get out, I have an idea. Get out of the brand new wetsuit! Maybe it’s too tight! I spread the rubber and instead run into my short -sleeved black one -piece into the water that I wear underneath. I clear myself.

The rescue is

And lo and behold: it works. It is even the rescue. Suddenly I can crawl, suddenly oxygen fills my chest. The water is suddenly not an opponent. I set my trains in peace. Make your arm nice long! Always the elbow as the highest point! And in the end, press it again nicely with your hand next to the body. Without hurry I crawl under a gray blue sky and slowly recover. Registered floating: I’m back!

With a smile on my lips, I come out of the water the second time and run into the transition zone. It looks pretty empty here, almost everyone is already going on with their racing bikes. But I’m the calm myself. What should be? Two or three minutes more or less make no difference. I survived the worst, hopefully.

I breathe through and bike. We have already left the route with our team yesterday, I know the turning points and the road conditions. When I arrive at the eight-kilometer circuit between Meeschendorf and Vitzdorf, there is already a wild back and forth. I have entered and get into my rhythm: Puls 150 is on my speedometer, 28 km/h on average. It drizzles, but I feel good. Well please.

Tribalistas in accordance with

On the asphalt I gradually meet our small team that we have christened tribalistas. We wave to ourselves: Philipp, who was the fastest to swim 1500 meters, as I will find out later. Steffen Rast in the yellow Ukraine jersey: that he lost his glasses shortly before the start and the whole route crumpled with his eyes closed, he will only tell me after the race. He runs in a season with his daughter Enna (17), in the end they become second in the relay ranking.

Hartmut I also call a hello to: he is 64 and ND cooperative, a seasoned triathlete that flies over the course with a Trek time driving machine from carbon, a collector’s item from 1998, on which Austrian national team drivers once rang for best times. At the finish he will have chased my bike for ten minutes.

Or Jens from Neustadt in Holstein, our fastest, a pound guy. When he overtakes me, tunnel view, I fire him: “Pull, boy!” My teammates Kai from Schönkirchen and the always cheerful Steven from Berlin I see most often: the two only knew each other from the WhatsApp group. At the end of the race you will run together, five and a half minutes in front of me. How heartig! A super force!

Honestly: if I had set myself a goal beforehand, it was not necessarily the last of the tribalistas. But here on the bike route I don’t care. Instead, I enjoy the stage: At the Vitzdorf turning point, two older women sit and call me encouraging words with every return, I wave back every time. My panic when swimming seems almost a little unreal here.

Run into high feeling

The sun comes out behind the clouds when I finally ran in the transition zone for the second time. I slip into the jogging shoes and then let’s go to the promenade. Four times along the round along the water, four times past the three ugly high -rise buildings of a Danish star architect, in the 1970s they were the last scream. Four times past the finish area, where the music booms and the moderator on the blue carpet under palm trees is already welcoming the first Finisher. It smells of waffles, fish rolls and sea.

The thighs pain a little, but my step is loose and the rays no longer get out of my face. The 10 kilometers had previously found most of the fear. But now I put down feathers with the teammates. High Five on the bank: We all know, we did it right away! The path is lined with people who cheer on. My wife also cheered me. My 15-year-old son simply runs the penultimate round in high spirits. He keeps his cell phone on me all the time. Live video for the family at home.

I am alone on the final round. My heartbeat booms in my ears, the sweat runs my eye, but I run – right into the feeling of feeling! I wanted to give up earlier, now the thing is almost completed. Is there anything better? When I turn on the home straight, all tribalistas on the blue carpet are ready for clapping. I am there!

The spokesman calls my placement and fits a little of the last 25th, but I don’t hear it at all. I’m just happy: about our snap idea to tackle the triathlon. About our inexperience, because of which we had to debut here in late summer in the cold Baltic Sea! And also about my chuzdue to spread all of this here in an ND column-as my very personal story. My story now ends in this way: When I am over the finish line after 3:27:05 hours, I fall into my wife. I sink my head into her shoulder and let the tears run wild: three years ago I had cancer. Today I did my first Olympic triathlon. Everything is possible. You just have to try it.

All trial training columns:
Part 1: How does triathlon work?
Part 2: Stand in the rain
Part 3: The little ones
Part 4: naked in happiness (54)
Part 5: The man with the plan
Part 6: In the bar rush
Part 7: Vacation in top form
Part 8: waves and miracle glasses
Part 9: The rows clear
Part 10: early in the flow in the flow
Part 11: Fehmarn, we are coming!