The race that wasn’t became the race that was. I hadn’t planned to go to Norderstedt (partying the night before, in bed in the wee hours, tanked up on all the wrong kinds of food) and it was a last minute decision to throw all the gear in the car and drive north through the gloom. Dark clouds, cool temps, howling gale. Not the most inspiring weather.
With London in mind, I decided to use this as a training race. An extended workout, never pushing too hard. It went well, and I managed to finish 10th. Disregard that I was a good 15 minutes behind the winner. I’m not sure what it means, but said winner is not on the start lists for London. I wonder if anyone in my age group will be able to do a 2:05 Olympic in London. Perhaps not. This makes me relax a little, because I feared finishing dead last. But, if all the ridiculously, impossibly fast guys won’t be in London (avoiding perhaps the chance of being tested) then it may be a level playing field and I may do all right.
The race in Norderstedt is a rather dull affair. A round-and-round-the-mulberry-bush course. The 40km/h crosswinds made the bike leg challenging, and I rode with safety first. Two weeks out from the big one, I don’t want to risk getting injured.
As with every race, there were dubious performances: guys who look like they couldn’t run 100 metres somehow burning through the 10km run in under 40 minutes. Good for them. Ha. I’m the one representing my country in London.