2.1 Seconds That Changed Everything

Today’s West Lancs Summer Triathlon was the 10^th round of my 2016 race campaign and, in a modern rarity, was a multisport event I didn’t have to get up to while the tawny owls outside were still cooing to each other. As such a 7:45am start had me out the house and over to Westhead in time to survey both a couple of backup houses should my current deal become unworkable, and also to run the rule over the race route in terms of the road surface, particularly with leaves having fallen in the overnight rain. The ice rink that was Vicarage Lane apparently caused at least one accident with one bike being totally wrecked (at least we know who’ll take the P3 off the shop floor) but come 8:20am it was time to park up in the car park at Edge Hill, chat to some of the St Helens Tri tifosi and set about getting my race pack from registration. I didn’t realise just how far we had to go from here to the pitlane and, worse still, I had to go back and get my bike, having decided to do it in two trips to the car. Worse still, I desperately needed the loo and had to queue behind what felt like 100 others for three cubicles so even getting round the back of the tennis courts to put the bike on its rack felt like a multisport event in itself, as I was being careful not to let the old tyres touch anything that might cut them ahead of their relegation to HMCC Sunday Ride usage. Finally, with 9:15am approaching I could reach the poolside in time for the race briefing, having conveniently NOT read where to put bike shoes - as in not by the poolside, rather in the “landing zone” outside. Zoe very kindly went and put them there for me while I attended the briefing, where I quickly realised I had Ged Roberts to contend with in the wave after me. Me and Ged go back a couple of years when we duelled for the Strava record on the cinder track at Glenburn Sports College during a summer holiday; let’s just say I’ve got that record boxed off for good unless the council read this, redevelop the place a la Litherland Sports Park and give the town a new crit circuit, no re-branding would really be required either. He was due off a short while after me and I was dropped into Lane 6 at 9:38, ready for the countdown to start my home race.

My first few lengths were pretty consistent but even better, I made use of a very rare rest day from the day before (and every opportunity to eat) to power on at the same speed. It’s a policy I’ve become accustomed to using on the day before a major league race, and this was certainly a high-pressure event of such ilk. After the swim came the meander through the hordes of people waiting for a briefing, before finding my black cycling shoes amongst the loose chippings acting as “gardening” on the footpath to T1. These were great to sprint on across the tennis courts, where a quick helmet attachment got me out of T1 and to the mount line very quickly indeed. From here I got cheered on by the Saints as I made my way to the cycle lane, also known as the reason to run those (Tiesto) red lights, before going up Scarth Hill Lane and off to do Tour de Westhead, Times Three.

The first lap of the bike course was definitely an eyeopener, but also a place to make real gains if you were feeling brave when cornering and descending. Once again I think back to what Paul Moy’s been impressing Kevan Evans with recently, but I thought about it so hard that I went past a cone on entry to the A577 and was lucky no cars were coming through. Instead I passed many mountain bikes and a couple of roadies, before turning left onto School Lane. Here, Holly Close in Westhead loomed large, and not just because it’s a quiet backwater for Ormskirk much like Ince Blundell is to Formby, but also because the largest house on the corner is for sale. Certainly a good idea if the damp survey at my current target is unfixable, but for now the focus was on ploughing down Vicarage Lane, where I marshalled at the spring edition race. I was as brave as possible through the lines of mud and potholes, mindful of the fact that one smashed bike is more than enough for one race, and I was unlucky that I came across a similarly cautious rider on the left-hand bend and had to dodge the grid to pass them, but on lap 2 I picked off Merida Reacto Man and headed towards THE CONES, where this time Mazda Man was the main distraction; let’s just say I was lucky he was turning off towards the Plough or he’d have been a right roadblock down School Lane, he certainly was a bit wayward with his driving lines. Upon turning onto Vicarage Lane for the second time I thought I spotted a Ribble, but it turned out it was Alan Treanor, at which point I said “fancy seeing you here”. Lap 2 on the Vicarage Lane Ice Rink was more reassuring as at least I had a clear track ahead of me, and this gave me added impetus to attack the start of the final lap. On this final tour I spotted a club run ahead of me, but rather than draft a chaingang I stayed on route and did my most confident lap particularly in terms of how I handled the turn onto School Lane, where the headwind was to be found and surprisingly large chunks of time could be gained or lost. On the final turn right down Ruff Lane I spotted Garry and Linsey cheering me on and from here it was simply a case of hold on down the bump middle of the road near the cones and pray that the tyres hold out, before attacking the speed bump on entry to the Edge Hill grounds and smash every corner as hard as possible; I’d say a good 30 seconds could be made up by the right person here. Upon reaching the dismount line I swallowed a bit of Amino Energy for extra PUNCH in T2 and on the run course, and oh what a difference-maker this would prove to be.

T2 was pretty slick, even if my shoe insoles wanted to shuffle around, and it was a fast opening kilometre that had me round the back of the new sports complex and off to the site of the old running track, home of Basketball-Gate from the 2014 Roman Road Challenge. With no bombs flying our way today, but five cute ducks on the old running track, I could focus on the bridges and tight corners on the run to the arts blocks, where I now work most Monday evenings. Upon reaching the halfway point I was greeted both by Mersey Tri’s star Samantha Howard, who recognised me instantly, and also a water-over-the-head opportunity in the form of squeezy bottles. These were a real relief to have but more arduous work was just up ahead, in the form of a hairpin turn and more uphill to the point where you head towards the road. Now here it’s very easy to get distracted because Sunday morning trail runners are coming the other way, so you can easily miss out a mile or more of the course, and that would become a critical factor in what was to follow, but more on that later. For now I was making best use of the tarmac with my racing flats and accelerating towards the gate where you had to swing round the pole (literally) to get to the highest point of the course, cheered on all the time as we were by the St Helens Tri and HMCC spectators. This highest point of the course gives you great views that were sadly a little misty today in the changing conditions, but the 4km board appeared and I passed it with the watch showing 58 minutes exactly. By now I was thinking about passing as many fast runners as I could, and about the running track, where we would do the final 500 metres, with a 400 metre lap followed by a hairpin turn and one last dash of 100 metres to the line. With the announcer cheering us on and the Bryan Adams song Run To You blasting out over the PA for the lovers of all good radio stations (Capital/Heart/really anything owned by Global) I thought the one thing I always have to: YOLO! That’s right, it was a massive effort to eke out every last second on the run to the line but having thought I’d be happy with a sub-1:03 I not only got under 1:02, but clocked 1:01:27, well inside my target time. Had this been the main headline of the day it would still have made for the most memorable finish so far this season. However, it was completely forgotten in light of what followed.

Many years ago, basketball was the No. 1 sport in America primarily because of a famous college game between Duke and Kentucky in the 1992 East Region Final, for which a book was written “2.1 seconds that changed basketball” (go and look up Christian Laettner "The Shot" and you'll see what I mean). Well two seconds doesn’t seem like a lot, but it proved to be the most massive two seconds of my entire racing life. Because at first it appeared as though I’d finished fourth, and second in my age group (male senior, basically anyone from 18-40). However, the runaway “winner” had a 5k time of 12:27 and surely that couldn’t be right. Everyone agreed that I wasn’t just being a bad loser and that he would get DQ’d. It turned out that he’d taken a wrong turn at that very point on the course where the runners were going both ways, but it cut no ice with the officials who had no choice but to remove him from the results. This not only gave me third overall, but incredibly, by those very two seconds, the divisional title, 1:01:27 to 1:01:29! Has there ever been a more critical time to YOLO? Of course not, had I crossed the line three seconds later it would have been the worst result ever as if to say “when is this podium/male senior title EVER going to come”. Instead, it was a double celebration for St Helens Tri as Eddie Hirst, who placed second overall, was first male veteran (40-49) and one of only two people to go sub-60 minutes. This made for a right scramble to sort things out prior to the presentation, including drink a Starbucks giant-sized hot chocolate (essential), ring home to say “sorry won’t be back for the Belgian Grand Prix, I’ve just won a title” (equally essential), thank Zoe for looking after my shoes (could be important if she joins us in the A group any time soon) and wind Wayne Fisher up, given he’s a Man Utd fan, that my sprint finish could also be christened “Aguerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrro 2”. Come 12:30 it was time to go to the champions presentation to receive two prizes, a commemorative towel for winning the division and a swim buoy (how ironic is that for me) as the third overall prize. Indeed, with the first three division winners also placing in the top three overall positions it probably made us look like a right motley crew, particularly as the overall winner wouldn’t take his blue-tinted sunglasses/extreme aero device off but in the context of a very difficult week with the hosue move I really couldn’t have been happier.

After that it was off home to leave all the race gear back at Chinook HQ, before getting a lift over to Ormskirk for the motor fest, where yet more crazy things happened; I downed THREE pints without walking into the Green Rooms doors (having been ID‘D for the first time since the same venue six years earlier when I got ASBO‘D). I caught up with Garry and Linsey, plus Mark Brownett, and I also spotted THE EDGE with Steve, Sophie and the baby. Later, Matt appeared in the Green Rooms and in the company of him and his mates (plus late arrivals Hodgy and Steve Warner) I downed the second and third glasses of Peroni while enjoying new-found celebrity superstar status, not that I was really thinking “get me out of here” until Eddie messaged me to say he could pick me up from The Cricketer’s at 5:30. From here it was off to the Sandpiper in Bickerstaffe, where roast dinners and fish dishes were popular, as well as the piece de resistance, the “Bakewell Slice” a designer dessert with THREE scoops of ice cream on top; vanilla, toffee and chocolate! Plenty of conversation and banter was enjoyed including Eddie’s forthcoming trip to Mexico (watch out for sharks and crocs) and his escapade with Terry Bates last Christmas saving a man in distress during the December floods - they used WETSUITS no less, I’d have needed snorkelling goggles too. Come 8:45 my taxi came to pick me up and I could relax on the journey home before sitting down to watch the Belgian Grand Prix, after a momentous day out where so many both at St Helens Tri and HMCC did themselves so proud. Well done everyone!

Now for the results, in association with the Sandpiper, Bickerstaffe:

Distances: 400m/18.5km/5km

Time: 1:01:27

Final Position: 3^rd overall, male senior title winner by 2 seconds (who you ID’ing now?)

Mad Mazdas: 1

Ducks: 5 on the old running track

Water Bottles: 1 dunked over my head

Crashes: 1 early doors victim who’s now got no bike

Biggest Moment Of The Day: The YOLO that snatched the divisional title away from Team MGPT

REJECT OF THE RACE: He Who Went The Wrong Way

(But his misdirection moment did give us the best post-race celebration of all time)

And finally: A massive thank you to Rob McLeod and the Vital Events team for putting today’s race on, also for letting me marshal/argue with motorists back in April so I got my race today paid for without having to get the card out. Also thank you to Zoe for saving me about 2.1 crucial seconds by putting my shoes outside for me - shame I didn’t see you in the Green Rooms or a triple JD and coke would have been all yours - and also thank you to everyone who turned out to support us in our pursuit of glory, or as per the track played at the prize ceremony, Vangelis’ Conquest of Paradise. I said last year after Nantwich that “the only thing missing was the band” - well there you have it. Best finish of all time - no doubt!