Bye, bye, I’ll Miss Emirati Tri

(see what I did with that title, eh?)

OK, OK, OK… so it’s been a while. And for that I offer up my deepest, sincerest condolences, yadda yadda yadda… Actually, what do you want from me? I’ve been damn busy. ‘How busy?’ you may ask. Lots of work on? Too much training? Few personal commitments?

Actually, I’ve been rounding up my life in the UAE (easier said than done), saying my goodbyes and have been a tad preoccupied with moving to the Netherlands, I’ll have you know. But now I’m there, and have been living in Amsterdam for one week exactly, I’m writing the blog I should have written a couple of weeks ago.

First up, let me say that the time was right and, even before I got here, I’ve been super-psyched about my move. Now I’m here, despite having to increase the overall size of my wardrobe by several thousand percent (coats, scarves and gloves are essentials for life in this here Netherlands, people!), I’m even more excited. But that doesn’t mean that there’s not some sadness attached to leaving Dubai.

There’s sadness attached to the place – I was lucky enough to leave while I still feel a lot of fondness towards Dubai and the UAE, rather than so many who are ‘just reeeeally over the whole thing, you know, man?’  when they make the move away. There’s sadness attached to the job – I think I had one of the best jobs in the world at Explorer – and the people. But what I’m going to miss, more than anything else, can be summed up in one word: triathlon.

Let’s take a pictorial journey through my time in Dubai…

2008: 93kgs and already many, many kilos lighter than at the same point the year before, I tackle my first triathlon in gym clothes, wearing a borrowed kids’ helmet and riding a borrowed bike. Sprint triathlon time: 1hr46.

2010: 85kgs and with a marathon and several triathlons under my belt, with a proper bike helmet and on my very own tri bike, I register a time of 1.17 for a sprint tri.

2012: 79kgs (going into the race…70kgs finishing it!) I complete my second Ironman. I now have many, many swim, bike, run and tri races under my belt and can cover the sprint distance in around 1.03.

What many will see there is either a dude who got himself into some sort of decent shape or a blogger who’s feeling a mite proud of himself. I’d disagree. When I look at those photos now I think of experiences (climbing Kilimanjaro, racing Ironmans, cycling tours across Thailand and Laos or Europe), I think of achievements, I think of a guy who’s happier in life and better at his job, and  I think of someone who wouldn’t have had the balls or ability to make the move I’ve just made before my tri adventure began. But, most of all, I think of all the friends I’ve made along the way.

The Middle East and endurance sport may not seem to be a match made in heaven but for me it most definitely was. So, when I look back on my time in Dubai, what I’ll always remember and be grateful for is that it gave me one of the things I love most and makes me happiest in the world.

And it taught me one thing. Wherever you are in the world, never let location be your limiter or your barrier. Get out there and make it count! While everyone else in Amsterdam is bemoaning the cold snap and the rain, I’m wrapped up and ready for action – after jogging around and around and around at Safa or Dubai Marina in 45 degree C, hitting the canal-side trails, parks and woods of Holland in the cold is a breeze.

As rubbish and silly a dedication as it may be, this blog serves as a huge thanks to everyone at Tri2Aspire, Dubai Masters, Cycle Safe, Tri Dubai, ABRaS etc etc… thanks for pushing me harder, faster and further, and for teaching me that pushing harder, faster and further is the greatest feeling in the whole, wide, lovely, great world.

 

What’s in a name?

My blogging has been pretty woeful of late, but I think I have good reason for that. Y’see, this is predominantly a triathlon blog, documenting the high and lows of my racing and training, with occasional sideways glances at the sport and meandering journeys into the world of tri-surrealism.

And, of late, triathlon hasn’t really been on my mind. I’ve done a few rides and sessions here and there but consistency has been non-existent and I’ve also taken quite a few chunks of time off. Training hard has been replaced by working way too hard, then 10 days of eating and drinking way too much, while life has generally got in the way.

And then there’s the big news. As of the beginning of November, this blog, Desert Tri Tales, will be seeing something of a reboot, a rebranding, a rebirth if you will…  as it transforms into Triathlon and Tulips, or Remrandtriathlon, or Swim, Bike/Boat, Run or…well, I’ve not decided yet, but you get the point. This isn’t due to a newfound love of floristry, 17^th Century art or cruising, but, at the end of October, I’ll be swapping sand dunes and skyscrapers for canals and clogs as I move to the Netherlands.

If I’m being honest, I’ve been hankering after a move back to Europe for a while and the time was starting to feel right. Europe rather than the UK was always my preference – for whatever reason, lifestyle I guess, mainland Europe has always felt like a better long-term fit for me and I’d quietly decided to make a move back by the end of this year anyway. When a pretty young Dutch lass that I’ve been into for a decade or so suggested Amsterdam as a suitable destination, it seemed like the perfect fit.

Swapping THIS...

...for THIS.

So, there we have it folks. The times they are a-changing.

However, I do have five weeks left in Dubai and, although I’m not going to be around for any racing (and will then be moving to Amsterdam at the beginning of winter, so no more triathlon racing for a good six months or so...), I’m enjoying putting a nice big final consistent block of training in before I go. Sure, it’s not for a race or anything, but I’m just enjoying finding a bit of form, spending time swim/bike/running with friends and team mates, and getting to train outside while I still have the chance. And the Dubai weather seems to be obliging too, as summer is finally coming to a close it seems.

Swapping THESE LOCALS...

...for THESE LOCALS.

At the moment, it’s all giddy excitement about the move. But I’m sure there’s loads that I’m going to miss about Dubai too. But that’s a subject for another blog, I guess. 

Are cyclists wannabe triathletes or just rude?

Been a good couple of days of training – managed to get up early and swim each morning (3000m yesterday morning and 2500m this morning) although I am starting to find the solo swims a little tedious. Just shows the benefits that training with a squad brings and, with that in mind, I'm definitely going to join up with a running club when I get back to Dubai.

Other than swimming, I hit the trails and road for a 9k run yesterday and went fairly hard, averaging around 5min/km, which isn't bad at all given that the run included steps, gates and very rocky ground that had to be taken slowly. This morning it was a 60k ride, again concentrating on some big long climbs.

I'm fairly happy with my hill work; tomorrow morning, I'll do another hilly ride of 100k or so. I realise that almost all the hard work is now done and that I'm not going to become King of the Mountains overnight, but I've ridden and run climbs that are reflective of, or greater than, those I'll see in Ironman so that I'm prepared mentally – no matter how daunting a climb seems, I can fall back on the knowledge that I've already done bigger. That really is a big crutch.

The drawback is speed – I'd hoped to average around 30kph for Ironman and I now need to accept that this simply may not be possible. Even with the big long descents, the long climbs simply slow the average speed too much.

Anyway, all this riding around the hills of North Wales has opened my eyes to a phenomenon I'd heard much about but not really witnessed before. In Dubai, perhaps because it's quite a small brotherhood of bike riders or because we can only really ride safely in groups, I've always found fellow cyclists to be a pleasant and sociable lot. Here in the UK, however, if you're riding a triathlon bike, they look at you like something that just fell out of their enemy's arse.

Waving at a fellow cyclist as you pass is the done thing, polite and conspiratorial at once; the old boys here don't hesitate to give me a salute or a nod but the younger 'serious' cyclists return my cheery wave with...well...nothing. A blank stare. Actually, that's unfair; some do growl.

If I were on a road bike, we'd be buddies. They'd wave back and wish me a good ride. But I'm not, I'm on a tri bike. A tri bike is a fine looking piece of equipment, much like a good road bike, so it can't be that I offend their delicate sense of aesthetics. So what is the reason for the frosty reception?

I can only assume it's jealousy. When I see them ride past on their lovely road bikes I think 'blimey, that's a fine looking bicycle!' When they see me ride past on my tri bike, they don't see a bike at all. They see a big fat exclamation that says: 'yes, I'm tackling the same roads, the same climbs and same distance as you...and this is just one of three sports I'm equally adept at and dedicated to.'

Is this the case roadies? Is our bike, with its sleek tri bars, a reminder of what you can't do? Were you the hardcore elite until us triathletes came along? Did you enjoy getting into work and telling your colleagues about the century ride you did over the weekend and seeing their amazed faces and the hero worship in their eyes? Now they just say 'that's nothing – Matt did a century ride and then ran a half marathon.'

I've decided that there's only one course of action open to me; I'm going to give a bigger wave in future.

17 days and counting!!!