New to Tri: John Forde – Week 2

Ok, so training seems to be going quite well. I have been getting to most of my swim sessions recently, having missed a few because of work (that is my excuse and I am sticking to it) and I seem to be getting a little bit quicker, although I still can’t keep up with Ailbhe or Jack, or Seamus for that matter. I got myself a great new bike through the cycle to work scheme, and managed to run off a little niggle.

There is just one thing that makes me nervous, and it’s not my first public outing in my new Speedos, although it probably should be! The thing that makes me the most nervous are the cleats, the clipping in, the stopping at traffic lights, and everything to do with my ungraceful fall from my bike.
 

Read on for more…

I have already had my first fall; I managed to get that one out of the way very early, approximately 2 hours into my first spin with my new cleats. I knew it was only a matter of time. A friend who is training for the Rás decided he would show me the ropes, I forgot to mention he is a complete bollox, and he forgot to mention that he was taking me to the steepest hill he could find somewhere out past Rathfarnham.

The hill got steeper and steeper and steeper, and I got slower and slower and slower. As my “Buddy” horsed on up the hill leaving me for dust I started to zig zag up the road trying to keep some sort of momentum. A Doberman behind a fence barked, I got distracted, my right calf cramped and before I knew it I was on the floor, nursing a bloody knee and hurling abuse at the barking beast knowing that he couldn’t get to me, how brave! As the hurling of abuse ceased, the laughing began, and I must have laughed for a good five minutes before dusting myself down and finishing the climb.

By no means a consolation, I witnessed a fellow newbie’s (who wishes to remain anonymous and will henceforth be called “steak-knife”) first ungraceful dismount. Steak-knife and I were heading across the Westwood car park after our Sunday spin. By an unfortunate coincidence we were laughing about our fear of stopping at traffic lights and at my recent tumble, congratulating one another on an incident free session. As we slowed down and I unclipped, I witnessed first hand the sheer fear of helplessness. Both Steak-Knife and I knew it was happening, Steak-Knife was going to fall and there was nothing we could do about it. Steak-Knife hit the deck, and courageously kept their cool as a few cars gathered behind in an attempt to leave the car park. I am glad to report that neither of us were injured, just a couple of bruised egos.

The topic of cleat induced falling came up at lunch the other day in work, and I was surprised by the amount of casualties. But the pick of the bunch was Kenny’s. Kenny, an experienced cyclist, was approaching traffic lights. He began to slow down and filtered up the right side of the cars until he reached the top of the traffic and stopped. He hadn’t clipped out, he panicked, he tried to keep his balance, he failed, he went to lean on the car alongside him, the window was down, he fell through the window, he groped the female driver, and she put the car in first gear and drove through the red lights.

I would like to hear if anyone else has a similar cleat related story, with the added incentive of a pint for the winner after the Fingal Tri.
 

Thanks for reading.
Slán