Another panicked phone call this time to John at Tenby Cycles and if I was wearing one I'd take my hat off to the guy.
He offered me Sian's spare back wheel, I thought of using Mel's new bike, HELL I'd have taken Mollie's bike with basket, bell and tassles I was becoming that desperate. It was at the exact moment I saw the 'creased forehead' look spread across him that my heart rate and blood pressure started to rise and I started to have an epic panic on.he didn't know what the problem was and it couldn't be sorted there and then. He would sort the problem out I kept telling myself as he inspected the bike, he knows loads about this shit. I don't believe in not saying things like this, I mean, it's like saying Voldemort's name.they're just words and if something's going to go wrong then me passing air over my vocal chords to produce sound will have no bearing on anything.this came back to take a sizeable chunk out of my arse!! Blissfully unaware, I took the beast back home, took it out of the car, put the wheels back on an gave them a quick spin to make sure that I'd put them on straight and that's when I heard it.the dreaded sound of metal on metal coming from somewhere on my back wheel.SHIIIIIIIITT!! I frantically phoned Rhys, told him the problem and thankfully he came over a couple of hours later. I even said to Rhys, after he said not to say anything, that I'd not really had any problems with the bike. I leisurely washed and dried my pride and joy, cleaned and oiled the chain, lubed its bits and pieces, all whilst chatting to the guys at the station. As I had a bit of time to myself on Thursday while Osama Bin Issac and Abu Molza were in school I decided that this was the ideal opportunity to take my bike for a wash, lube, general look over and spruce it up a bit so that it looked the part come race event day (Ironman was never a race for me). At some point during the week me and Mel (I use the term 'me and Mel' and not 'Mel and I' because although grammatically correct, I think it makes me sound too posh.and that I am not) went for a bike ride and my crotch rocket seemed in perfect condition, I was happy as bike mechanical problems are one of my big fears (see previous posts). With all the normal day-to-day life kinda stuff continuing around me, my head was swimming (cycling and running) with everything that I still had to do before race day. Try as I did to lead a normal existence in the final week, I wasn't able to shake thoughts of the imminent 16th out of my mind, but having said that, I haven't been able to shake these thoughts for the past year.
Void bastards ironman full#
I'd not been completing all the sessions in the last 2-3 weeks before the big day and this was for a couple of reasons: I didn't want to risk any injury this close, but more worryingly was that I'd just started to have a tit full of exercising and I say ''worryingly'' because I LOVE exercising and I didn't want to feel that way about it!! So, as the event drew nearer that week, my anticipation, excitement, irritability and need for a nervous poop increased. My tapering was in full effect and to be honest I was probably.I WAS over tapering.
This turned out to be a dumb idea, as what it actually did was give me one clear week to shit myself about the big day without anything else to really focus on. I'd done a couple of shift swaps in work which, at the time, I thought was a good idea as this gave me a week clear before Ironman to make sure that I was fully rested and not feeling the effects of shift work, over-runs and night duties. Ok, it's been two months since I took part in the biggest sporting event of my whole life and now time for the final post in the 'Jonesy's Ironman Wales Adventure 2012' series.
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