The daily grind of being an age grouper is all about supreme organisation, a lot of 30 degree sport washes, plenty of food and a rather limited social life. But when you have a massive age-group race looming and you love it, you make it work!
My day starts with my most popular alarm: the 5.45am. Up for massive bowl of museli and I grab the usual cyclists gubbins; inner tube, gels, cereal bars, energy drink, and arm warmers now the mornings are chillier, turning my Strava on, and head out the door. I fight my way through the Wandsworth one-way system tradesman's 6.30am rush-hour, stopping at numerous traffic lights where fellow cyclists in training chat up the lovely Guru 'Nice bike', and arrive at Richmond Park; a London cyclists answer to 'the country'. Greeted by stags roaring their mating calls, heavy mist over the fields and the sun rising over the green/ orange trees, it's a pretty amazing way to start the day.
This morning is a brick; an interval session on the bike followed by a run. I do a warm up lap before a 20 minute threshold test (till the legs burned) and then a tempo lap to finish. Anyone at RP at that time in the morning is in training and they're a friendly bunch. People chat about their training sessions, grab on to others wheels, and it's satisfying to try and drop them on the little hills, especially when they are men (!). Triathletes can be easily spotted on their aerobars wearing calf guards. Having just adopted my boyfriends power meter, I am trying to get my head around pacing myself better, which is key for a 40k TT in the olympic distance triathlon, but it's not easy to keep the power up on downhills (when I am usually braking like a Granny) and avoiding pushing 400W on Richmond Park's one serious big hill, without zapping all energy you have.
It's now school rush-hour and weaving back from the Range Rovers clogging up Wandsworth's main roads, I arrive back home in time to greet my ex-ironman neighbour who is keen to know what I've been up to this morning. Quick transition into my trainers and I'm off to the common for a quick 3k. It's then a mad rush to get home, showered, and into my commuting gear to get through central London's rush hour to arrive at my Soho desk for 9.45am. Second breakfast done and it's time to start my working day.
Come 7pm, I don my high-vis and commute home through Hyde Park runners and chauffeurs in Chelsea via the pool. Trying not to be a lane nazi (people really shouldn't do breaststroke in the 'fast lane') I do a 2k session of drills and speed work and arrive home by 9pm for a high-carb dinner and a quick episode of Sex and the City, whilst updating my training diary. It's then time for my boring (but neccessary) physio exercises and preparing my stuff for the next days training session. Falling into bed by 10.30pm and setting my favourite 5.45am alarm to do it all the next day. It sounds like a mad dash but having been training since March, I am very much in the routine and come the Winter, I am not going to know what to do with myself!
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