I write from a plane somewhere between Palma and London, on my way back from a fortnight in Mallorca on a training camp. Not a triathlon one, unfortunately, but working as a medical assistant with Team Sky, the pro cycle team. Though ‘working’ is a term used loosely; happily I was able to do plenty of my own training and having not been able to get my own bike there had to use a ridiculously fancy ex-pro bike – not the best fit (thanks Nordhaug for being shorter than your average procyclist, though if you would please grow longer legs and shrink your body that’d be great) but I was able to distract myself from the discomfort that built in my shoulders and back when riding with the stunning scenery and the novelty of electronic shifters. My home for two weeks was perfectly set up for training – presumably the reason that Team Sky and British Cycling have based their winter camps there for the past three years – but the sea, an excellent (and underused) pool 5 minutes walk away and great run routes along the coast are wasted on them (I was told countless times that I was mad. I would say the same of them).
An already bursting bag and only 7 hours notice that I was heading back out to Mallorca meant I had to depart without a 2-week supply of NmN (I had even considered travelling in my wetsuit to solve packing issues…thankfully it squeezed in.) Laying down some hard training meant I was driven to the recovery bars offered to the team. Having tried every flavour I can say with certainty that NmN wins in the taste stakes. Looking forward to getting back to my stash in the freezer.
A few other learning points from the last four weeks:
- Despite pain tolerance being a main aspect of their job, most riders screw up their faces in terror when approached with a needle for a blood test. Man up, I say.
- Athletes at the highest level (world champions and Olympians even) are far less arrogant than I expected. I’m yet to meet any oversized egos on the team.
- Getting in and out of the sea, quick: trickier than you would think. But I think I’ve nailed it. Bring on Ironman South Africa.
- Best not to try getting through airport security carrying 20 iphones. But if you do, it seems 10 pairs of Oakleys, a can of olive oil (could as well be lighter fluid on the x-ray), a bottle of water and numerous toiletries seem to go unnoticed.
Peering out of my window I can see Dover and a sunny-looking England. Strangely excited to be soon breathing British air and heading home to normality after my short migratory spell to warmer climes and the crazy world of pro cycling. Spring will surely soon be sprung and it’s all go for longer days and big races. Can’t wait.
