Training in Sin City

After having left London early in the morning, we had travelled for 20 hours and arrived in the bright lights at 7pm with the whole evening ahead of us. The birthday boy met us at reception with a 'fat Tuesday'; the modern version of a fishbowl - a 3 litre mix of slushy spirits in an oversized test tube, setting the tone for the next 5 days. Now obviously my body is a temple (!) but with buffets which could frankly feed a small country and cocktail menus longer than the Amazon, this was not going to be easy and our first evening was predictably filled with oversized, overpriced fun.

After my first Vegas lie in (until the sun was pretty high in the sky) and while my mates were sleeping off their jet lag, I headed outside to the scorching heat, 37 degrees and hoards of tourists. I ran straight back in, and concluded it was just too hot to run outside. Despite some of the Vegas streets being air-conditioned (yes, thats right), the only appropriate time would be 3am when I would most certainly be still enjoying the evening, so I hit the gym.

A short run before running back in

The following night was a heady mix of overpriced beef, rooftop bars and suspender clad dancing ladies lining the walls of a club; standard. We hit the casino at 4am, spending all but our taxi home money, and were eating a stack of pancakes and bacon by 6am before hitting the sack at 7am. I had a sudden realisation that I had completely reversed my body clock. I am used to eating breakfast at 6am and going training at 7am. Needless to say, my (virtual) 45 min hilly cycle the next day was hard going.

Full Cyclefit kit essential in the gym

The next few days passed in a blur of buffets, beer, boobs and boogying, whilst coming to terms with an upturned sleep pattern. I managed to get to the gym everyday, much to my friends' shock. Walking through the casino in gym kit, I got some pretty strange looks. I bumped into someone I knew from back home, and he was more shocked to see me looking sporty in Vegas than 3000 miles from home. The air-conditioned gym was full of overweight American businessmen, body builders pumping iron, and middle-aged glamorous women. The workouts were made slightly more bearable by the chirpy gym assistant who handed me chilled flannels (That's right, they take them out of the fridge) every 15 minutes. 'You look pretty hot ma'am', I don't think it was a compliment.

On our last day I was feeling remarkably refreshed after a full 7 hours sleep and a lighter head, so committed to a double session. My friends had booked a luxury cabana beside the pool while I trundled off for a quick brick session; 45 min cycle followed by a hard 20 min run. In the afternoon as the pool started to empty, I decided it would be a genius idea to do a 1.5k TT. My friends looked on, beers in hand as I stormed up and down the pool on a mission. Plenty of sighting practise to avoid big bellied holidaymakers drinking cocktails, kids jumping onto lilos and snogging couples. I was greeted with a rum and coke 'recovery drink' and well dones from my chums.

Possibly the first TT the Bellagio has seen 

The last day arrived and I managed a quick run session before packing, gorging on another massive breakfast and rushing to the airport. Got an extra session in when our flight was late and we had to run through 3 terminals (in heels no less) to make our UK flight. Holiday over, I was feeling rather pleased with myself that I had got through the weekend of debauchery and managed to train despite a very confused body clock, severe lack of sleep and weird meal times. It will be refreshing to eat, sleep and drink normally, though I quite enjoyed the challenge, bring on Ibiza holiday and training for my 30th next year!