It is almost a whole month since I wrote anything. Well, anything that isn’t an email, a text or a set of instructions for my students, who have been distance learning now for almost four weeks. The world has ground to a halt, but somehow I seem to be more exhausted now from my working day than ever before.
Six weeks ago, I was recovering from a busy few weeks at IM 70.3 Dubai and Oman and a skiing trip to Almaty, Kazakhstan. We were getting ready to set off for a family trip to Canada. My training was on track and my fitness was rebounding after two weeks of rest following the racing. Then suddenly, on the 5th of March, the world from our viewpoint went mental. Within a few short days, the situation in the UAE went from a vague awareness that people were standing further apart, to all gyms, pools and parks being closed. These were swiftly followed by beaches, restaurants and shopping malls, but we were still allowed outside if we were ‘socially distant’.
I now live in a world where it is normal not to step foot outside my apartment for six or seven days at a time. A digital permit is needed to leave, even for essential goods such as groceries and medicine. I haven’t swum since Oman and I haven’t run since the 22nd of March. My training for Ironman Wales consists of endless hours on the turbo trainer and the Insanity program.
Now, I’m not naïve enough to be assuming that Ironman Wales will go ahead, and to be honest I don’t even know if I want it to. Not for any of the usual lack of fitness, scared, or “realised I actually hate triathlon reasons”, but because I don’t know if it should. At the point of writing this, over 115,000 people have died from COVID-19, almost eleven thousand of those in the UK alone. We are banned from any large gatherings, banned from seeing family and banned from visiting our elderly or vulnerable relatives. All this comes at a time when we probably need all these things the most. One of the main draws of Ironman Wales for me is the fact that it takes place in my home county, in a town which I and countless others have been visiting since we were tiny. There are almost 30 NEWTs racing this year from my old club in the UK. I have friends and relatives coming from all over the country to watch me race. Will they be able to come? Will my dad, who suffers from COPD, be safe to travel the 30 miles down the road by September? My best friend, who has severe asthma?
Countless numbers pour in to the Iron Town of Tenby to watch athletes face the dragon every year. These crazies hail from all over the world, from first timers to pro athletes hunting that ever-elusive Kona slot. Visitors swarm all over the village from Friday afternoon through to Sunday evening, with every pub, restaurant, cafe and chippy cramming in as many tables as they possibly can to capitalise on hungry Ironmen (Ironwomen?!) and even hungrier supporters. Hand rails are grasped, shoulders are bumped, and several thousand proud pairs of lungs bellow Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau at the swim start.
Are you beginning to see where I’m going with this? The honest truth is that Ironman could probably let the event go ahead with a limit on spectators and with social distancing measures in place. My question is, do we, as athletes, want to put the people who make our racing possible at risk? Do we want to race in a race where spectators can’t scream encouragement in your face as you ascend Heartbreak Hill for the last time? A race where I don’t get the yells of “Don’t be shit!!” thrown at me like lifeline all the way up NEWT Hill? A race where you can’t high five kids who have been standing on the side of the road all day ‘high fiving for energy’?
I don’t know if I do. I’ll keep training nonetheless, but I’m starting to wonder whether the dragon should have a year off this year, to roar all the louder in 2021.
Photo credit: Emma Palfrey, Thomas Amery and Ironman Wales