WEEKEND WARRIOR
Having discovered a love and aptitude for swimrun, Brunty’s tallying the financial and emotional cost of his cycling career…
“Isn’t it ironic,” sang Alanis Morissette back in the 1990s, before going on to describe a series of incidents which showed that she doesn’t understand what irony means. No Alanis, a black fly in your chardonnay is at best unfortunate, so I’ll tell you what irony is – irony is a state of affairs that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects and is wryly amusing as a result. For example, spending untold amounts of money on bikes over the years only to discover that the only sport you show some actual talent at, doesn’t involve any cycling.
The sport I refer to is swimrun, and I think I can now lay claim to some ability in this field having competed in four events so far and come first, second and third twice, and won my age-group in all of them. Naturally I’m overjoyed to have finally found something I’m good at, but my happiness is tempered by the nagging knowledge of how much cash I’ve lavished on bikes since I took up tri in 2002. And not just on bikes, but on wheels, lightweight saddles, aero helmets, tri-bars, slick tyres, skin suits, even bloody carbon bottle cages, like they were ever going to make any difference. And not just on one bike, but on many - race bike, road bike, winter bike, turbo bike, commuting bike, and the-one-mywife-doesn’t-know-about bike. And it’s not just cash of course, but effort and time. Over the years I’ve spent thousands of hours out on training rides where I’ve been chewing bar tape trying to hang on to the back wheels of my cycling club mates. But as tortuous as they’ve sometimes been, at least they were outside in the fresh air and the countryside. Of far more regret are the almost countless hours I’ve spent in spin classes or on my turbo trainer, pounding sweatily away until I look as forlorn as the last VHS in an Oxfam shop. And all for what? Despite the occasional flourish – like the time I overtook my friends Neill and Keith in a 25-mile TT when they’d started five minutes ahead of me, ahahahaha – if I’m honest, the only time I’d ever shine on a bike is if I cycled into a radioactive truck. And now it transpires I’m better at a sport that keeps the swimming and running but misses the cycling out.
My most recent foray into the swimrun world was a 21km race at Grafham Water, organised by As Keen As Mustard events, who endeared themselves to me forever by including some actual mustard in their race pack. The race comprised 11 trail runs and 10 swims around the perimeter of the lake, with distances ranging from 5.5km to 100m on the run and 600m to a 10m wade on the swim – the latter of these involved clambering over a large log where I managed to get astride it only to topple slowly back the way I came. Despite all this, I managed to finish second overall.
I must be honest, I like swimrun events. For starters, they’re refreshingly faff-free, there’s no transition, no racking, no body marking, and any bits and bobs you want to use, such as a pull buoy or hand paddles, you carry with you. There isn’t much in the way of kit either, you can get specialist stuff like a swimrun wetsuit, although I’ve just cut the arms and legs off my old one, and happily just as you start getting hot from running around clad in neoprene you get to jump in a lake and cool off. An excellent innovation is that the races are plastic- free, which means you need to carry your own collapsible cup because there are no bottles or cups at drinks stations. And not only is littering punishable by instant disqualification but competitors are actively encouraged to pick up any litter they find and hand it to a marshal. There’s also a high degree of self suffiency involved because signage is kept to a minimum so it’s up to you to know the way and not, for example, go from first to fourth half way round because you ran off in the wrong direction.
Don’t get me wrong, these races are hard going, they require constant effort and if you have a rest, you stop moving. And some of the runs are on terrain so remote I thought at one point I’d joined a cult and vanished into the woods. But they’ve definitely given my competitive edge a new lease of life. In the meantime, does anyone want to buy a bike?
“Of far more regret are the almost countless hours I’ve spent in spin classes”