The beer and pizza race - Sieraków Dystans Krótki

[Jellybaby]

Or to give it it's full title:
Perfect preparation prevents poor performance – Sieraków Dystans Krótki

Where: Sieraków, Poland
When: 1 June 2014
Organiser: EnduSport
Distance: 950m lake swim, 45km bike and 10.5km trail run
Marshalling: Brilliant: and given how well the course was marked they didn’t really need any.
Facilities: Everything you can think of. This was Ironman-or-better level of organisation/expo, etc, but without the ludicrous price tag and only half the number of competitors. Plenty of loos, loads of support, brilliant feed stations (if one chose to use them).
Technical: Chips
Freebies: Tech T-shirt, swim hat, rucksack, pasta, mid-race nutrition, finisher zone with beer, ice-cream, burgers, fruit, etc.

Right, grab a Żubr and some kabanos, this could be a long one…

Preamble
Right, as a number of you are aware, my mojo for triathlon waned somewhat a couple of years ago. I couldn’t race as much as I wanted because it’s just fucking expensive to do it in the UK, and I had no particular desire to get on my bicycle. Mrs JB and I went to Les Stables last year, which I managed to precede by tearing the ligaments in my ankle quite badly. Despite that it had been a fun trip (and we met the terribly nice Mr and Mrs Kotek), and a bit of motivation was rekindled. Artur had mentioned the race in Poland and we got excited and signed up for the quarter-iron distance as part of what was going to be our ’30 at 30’ – 30 races as we turned 30.

A lack of motivation and a bit of depression towards the end of the summer, plus Mrs JB getting a mysterious and quite long-lasting kidney problem meant that the plan was abandoned. I wanted to hit 30 in better shape than I did 20, and got back to the gym properly. Fast-forward to my birthday in January and I was a couple of stone lighter, and a bit happier.

However, the motivation for triathlon hadn’t really come back. I went out for a bike ride and was a bit ‘meh’ about the whole thing. I was really enjoying my trail running, and as the nearest pool is a 20-minute drive away, just stuck with running and weightlifting. We decided not to go to the expense and inconvenience of taking bikes with us to Poland and to just enjoy it as a holiday with a good group of mates. It turns out that those ‘mates’ are a bunch of complete and utter bastards.

About two weeks before the race, on a lovely sunny morning, I woke up with a desire to go cycling. Had a nice light breakfast, filled a bottle with water, stuck a gel in my back pocket and off I went. Not sure if it was the weather, feeling lighter on hills than before, or just a complete turnaround in mojo (most likely), but I was loving it. I got a bit further from home than planned and ended up doing 90-odd km, including a coffee and #mmmcake stop because of the lack of any appreciable nutrition. Got home with slightly hurty legs and arse, but really happy.

So, I’ve done a 90km ride and it really wasn’t all that bad. I know I can run a half marathon off stubbornness alone; the only unknown was swimming. We had the rare treat of a free Friday night that week, so decided to head over to Aylesbury and get in the pool for a bit of a paddle: a few lengths and then just float about a bit. We swam 2k in about 50 minutes and were barely out of breath. Oh dear.

Iain had pulled out at this point, so I knew there was a spare spot going on the middle distance. All I needed now was a bike. Sarah had been mumbling about her knee not being very well and not racing and a plan formed in my head that if Sarah decided to not race on the Saturday then I would give it a bash. Mrs JB laughed. We agreed that we were still definitely not going to race on the Sunday so we could just enjoy everyone having finished racing on Saturday and get drunk and eat a lot. Good plan.

Thursday
By now you’ll have read other race reports discussing the various pros and cons of flying Wizzair, their relaxed attitude to timings and gates and Artur’s inability to keep food in his mouth instead of on his t-shirt. You’ll also have heard about Jody’s very relaxed speed of driving which meant we were nearly too late to the lodgings to go for dinner. Therefore, to save you from staring at a screen for too long, we got to Poland eventually and somehow managed to get out for dinner before the chef went home, trusting that Artur and Anna were not going to order something that would kill us.

Getting back after dinner Anna decided that it was a bit chilly in the house and went to fetch the chap who looked after the place. Mrs JB and I don’t have a tv, so are easily amused. We sat back on the sofa with some snacks while Artur, Anna and Mr Notveryhelpful were going back and forth out of the bathroom and front door, trying to find out why the thermostat wasn’t working, yelling and cursing in Polish (or possibly just talking – I don’t speak enough to be able to say). It was like when you switch on the telly in a hotel and get a foreign soap opera, but live. Brilliant. That sorted it was bedtime.

Friday
Bike-racking day for everyone. By now it was clear that Sarah was definitely racing on the Saturday, so I abandoned my plans for racing and threw myself headlong into support mode. Which basically means trying to worry everyone as much as possible that their bikes are going to fall apart or that the swim is full of sharks, to take their mind off any smaller issues.
We got to the race HQ quite early. I was stunned. The only time I’ve ever seen this level of organisation/branding/excitement was in Zurich at the IM. The buzz was amazing. I wanted to race more than ever.

We all queued up to get our race packs and athlete bands (might as well get the freebies, eh) and everyone was pretty excited. It’s definitely a good job that Sam Laws keeps the credit cards under lock and key or Bendy would have bought a helmet, new kit and probably a new bike, just because. Jody was looking at wetsuits because his was clearly too small for him, but the prices in zloty make everything look much more expensive, so he decided to squeeze into the one he’d brought with him.

We headed down to the beach so everyone could get a feel for the water. Mrs JB decided she’d run back to the accommodation. Probably just about 10km away and down a SINGLE TARMAC ROAD. There was one turn, which was heavily signposted and had been pointed out to her, so it should have been a nice relaxed hour’s run and she’d be waiting for us when we got home.

Once the swimmers came back to shore and dried off they were heading off for a recce of the bike course, while Anna, Ed and I went to the shops to buy food and celebratory beer. We got home about an hour later to find everyone else there, but no Mrs JB. She didn’t have a phone and doesn’t speak Polish. We went off to find her in reasonably good spirirts, which didn’t last.

We had about 2 hours of driving around rural Poland trying to work out where she’d possibly gone wrong and what had happened to her. Artur did a terrific job of keeping me calm, although he was starting to get more and more concerned the further we drove. We found her on our way back to the accommodation to find numbers for local hospitals and the police. She looked knackered. She’d run about 18 miles, some 12 of which on a dirt road (not the lovely tarmac) into the middle of the woods. In hindsight we should have left her there and let her walk home, but we picked her up and drove back. Everyone was very relieved and it took their minds off the impending race.

Later in the day everyone headed to race HQ to rack their bikes and I decided to go and get my frustration out with some exercise. Because we’d decided that we definitely weren’t racing on the Sunday I opted to try and trash my legs so that I couldn’t race on Sunday, even if I wanted to. They have very useful markers every 100m along the roads in Poland, so I ran for 4k out, then 1km alternating 100m sprint and 100m jog. At the final post 100 squats, then lunge back for 100m (this is really hard), 100 more squats, some situps and pressups then limped home, legs battered and no longer frustrated.

Got back home to Ed and Mrs JB cooking dinner, and spent the evening ‘helping’ Artur make sure all his kit was there. Having been the soul of calm and organisation for weeks, there was probably an hour before going to bed that his calm façade started to become punctuated with signs that he was really nervous about the race (he needn’t have been).

Saturday
The day arrived. Artur had been awake from I think around half 5 and trying not to be nervous. The racers all piled into the fun bus and headed off to the race, leaving the rest of us to have a leisurely breakfast before making our way over to the race. Yet again, Mrs JB showed she is clearly not to be trusted for either her own or others’ wellbeing. Having gone to knock for Ed just before we left, she returned claiming that he wasn’t there and must have gone with the guys earlier. We left the house and I noticed that a light was on. I went over and tried the door, which opened. “ED?” “Yes mate, just a minute.” He was still there. Well done Laura. Cluster averted, we made our way to the race. Anna decided on a slight detour off the usual route, which she blamed on nerves. But we made it eventually.

We managed to park about 1km from transition, so had a nice easy walk in. The sun was shining and I felt it was going to be a good day. Race HQ was as good as I had hoped it would be. A chirpy bloke with a loudspeaker egging everyone on, epic music, and loads of crowd support. They hadn’t missed a thing. Amazing.

We saw everyone down on the beach heading into the start pen. Well, we saw Jody. A magnificent sexual walrus blocking out the sun... covered in rubber, meandering behind everyone else with the grace and beauty you would get from the love child of a rhino and a flamingo.

We said help, offered some words of encouragement and then watched as they went to stand in their respective places at the swim start. Jody was looking nervously at the cannon – I think he was worried that there was going to be a spot of whaling.

BANG went the cannon. Off they went. Like wildebeest being chased into a ravine. As always happens in this situation, you cannot distinguish one rubber-clad person from another, and as the pack began to round the first buoy the support crew made their way over to the swim exit to bag a prime spot halfway up the hill. We would definitely be able to see them from here. There was an excellently noisy chap with a water bottle across the way from us, who was encouraging all the athletes on and then giving them a great wallop on the backside with the aforementioned bottle. There are some odd people in Poland, we thought.

Kris was first out, maybe 30 places down on the leader, his previously broken collarbone clearly visible through his wetsuit and making people feel uncomfortable. We had expected a longish wait for the next person, but minutes later Artur thundered past on his way up the hill. Some time passed.

We heard it first. Women wanted him, and at that moment men wanted to be him, as the sexual walrus heaved himself out of the water and up the hill with the energy and vitality of an 80-year old gentleman who’s taken the entire bottle of blue pills. Unfortunately, the cardiovascular limits of such a gentleman were also evident in our hero, and it was not long before he was spent and panting like a teenager having a quickie round the back of the sheds. He walked past us muttering something about hating us.
Much more time passed.

Finally, as it seemed the sun was setting and everyone had gone home, Bendy Ben emerged from the water. Looking like the bedraggled remnants of a twig that has been used one-too-many times for poo-sticking, he came past with his usual delight at having finished then swim and being surprised to be alive. The only reason we could see for Ben being ahead of Sarah was that he started ahead of her on the beach.

This view was upheld as Sarah came past us some 50m behind Bendy. About where she’d started. She looked fresh as a daisy and seemed cheerful enough. As all our heroes were now out of the swim we made our way to a cunning vantage point, just before the bike in, so we would see everyone on each lap and not be too far from the run course for later in the day.

Kris came past first looking not as happy as we thought he would have done. We asked Anna what to shout. We assumed that, being Polish and having grown up here, she would know what the general shout of encouragement in Polish would be. Not at all. We opted for the continental “HOP HOP HOP” and general hooliganistic cheering until much later in the day when she found out more things to say.

Some more bikes came past. Where on the swim exit we could see everyone from some way off, we couldn’t really see the riders until they were very close, which meant either cheering very early, or a bit too late. We opted for early. Thankfully Artur is quite a common name in Poland, so that wasn’t so bad. A couple of small blonde ladies got called Kris, almost every lady sitting on a shopping bike got called Sarah, all the people that have that tall, lanky triathlete look got called Ben but there was no mistaking the smouldering lump of carnal desire we know as Jody. You could feel him coming. The collective orgasmic shudder from the crowd was palpable.

Once we’d seen everybody once we decided it was about time for elevenses, as it was indeed about eleven. Being beside a café we opted for a sit down in the sun and all had a beer and a plate of chips. Perfect.

We went back to our vantage point to watch for a bit longer, and saw everyone pass again except for Kris. We thought something bad had happened rather than the obvious thought that he’s a member of the Norwegian Tri Team is so is likely to be pretty swift.

We decided to wander over to the run route. This proved more difficult than expected. We had managed to get ourselves into a section of the course that meant we would have to cross or go down some of the run route in order to get round to the other side. We weren’t allowed across at the bike in/out, so wandered down to the lake to see if we could get up that way.

We found a lovely spot just at the bottom of the switchbacks. We could see people coming and it was near the end of the loop, so once we’d seen Artur for the third time we’d have about 30mins to get to the finish chute.

I think people were surprised to find such a noisy group of supporters there, but I think they needed it. We cheered everyone that came past, and anyone that gave back got an even bigger cheer. Artur didn’t look happy when we saw him. I think we have a photo of him with a sad face on doing a thumbs down. Ben looked focused. Well, the person looked focused. Ben was wearing a black trisuit and sunglasses, as were about 100 other people. Kris looked pretty cheerful. He was on his last lap and everyone else was pretty much on their first. We saw Jody. He told us he hated us. He didn’t look happy, and when Jody isn’t smiling he looks like a serial killer. We didn’t see Sarah and assumed that Jody had killed her.

Off we went to the finish chute (via part of the run course because it was more direct… and we were lost). We picked a perfect point just at the split between finish gantry and the start of the run loop. As ever, our timing was impeccable. Not five minutes after we’d arrived Artur came through. He looked strong and had clearly been holding back a bit. No shuffle for him. He came around the turn and, with his gracefully lope, made his way down the finish chute, no sprint finish here. It would be some time now before we saw anyone else.

A few minutes later we saw Sarah. She’d finished the bike and was onto her second lap. She was looking very strong and came past shouting that she hated her bike saddle. No complaint about the knee so we took that as a positive and cheered her on.

Time passed. Finally, we saw Jody. The crowd fell silent. The once magnificent odobenus sexualis was looking decidedly worrisome. More like an elephant seal. But he turned to the finishing chute and the crowd went wild. He picked up a handful of children and dragged them across the finish amid the rapturous applause of their parents. Streamers flew, women fell pregnant at the mere sight of him, as their men gawped in awe at the spectacle of his finishing. He had done it.

More time passed and Ben finally hoved into view. We knew it was him because he was the only person who liked like a triathlete who was still out on the course – the other speedy, lanky folk having finished some time before. We roared him home, some of us secretly pleased that he’d done the decent thing of not beating our middle-distance times, and then settled in to wait for Sarah.

Anna went off to find Artur, but he was more interested in beers, burgers and the paddling pool, so she returned to us. It dawned on me that I had not put any suncream on, and I began to wonder how red I was. Those of you who saw me after the first club relays will attest to the fact that I burn quickly and to a remarkable shade of fuschia. We found a bit of shade, but the damage was done. Whoops. Ah well, at least I can spend tomorrow in the shade and indoors...

There were a lot of people finishing now, and the pile of children by the side of the finish was dwindling as each person seemingly grabbed one or several unrelated kids to run across the line with. It seemed an odd tradition, but that’s how things work over there.

As the sun began to set and the cicadas started their song, which in civilised parts of the world means it’s time for a gin and tonic, our Lady Sarah came into view. She looked as comfortable as she always does when running, and was getting faster. In fact, had the run been 30k instead of 20k she’d have caught Jody, had it been a marathon she’d have beaten him and Ben, such was the speed that she was running. Alas, by now the children were all gone, but plenty of crowd remained to cheer and whoop.

As the racers got stuck into their food and drink, the support crew headed to the local pizza parlour and shop to get dinner. We picked up way more beer than was necessary or sensible and ordered ten extra-large pizzas for delivery to where we were staying. A slight directional mishap by Anna on the way home (déjà vu) but we got back just after everyone else.

From here on in, my memory is somewhat hazy. We had beer and pizza. Chatted about how brilliant the race had been and how much I wished I’d been able to do it. Lots more beer. “I can’t do it because I have no kit except running shoes.” Some beers later I found myself sitting on the sofa sometime after midnight with a bag of kit and a bicycle ready for the next day. What on earth am I doing? Artur laughed and gave me another beer.

The easiest thing would have been for me to borrow Kris’s kit. We’re about the same height/leg length, foot size, etc. However, his kit is all top of the range and worth more than Poland’s GDP, and I would have been less comfortable borrowing it than he would have been lending it.
This in mind, I borrowed various items off a number of people:
Trisuit: Artur had a spare one in my size. I suspect he’d been planning this all along. The scheming git. He also conveniently had a spare race belt and water bottle.
Bike: Sarah’s lady-specific trek. Now while I’m a short chap, I’m not as short as Sarah, and the bike was not set up for me. Being drunk I didn’t make any attempt to rectify this. This was one of several things that did not help my ‘race’.
Bike shoes: Bendy Ben was happy to lend me his as he had the same cleats as Sarah. What a gentleman. My wide, hobbity size-9s were crammed into his skinny size-11s.
Helmet: Again Bendy to the rescue. The only person with a big enough head and without a TT lid. As incredible as I looked in his lime green helmet, I’d have looked far dafter with anybody else’s.
Wetsuit: The only person whose wetsuit would fit my powerful frame was Jody’s. Thanks to him pre-stretching it for me on the Saturday I would definitely be able to get into it for the race.
Goggles: The only person with more kit than a specialist tri shop, yet again Ben to the rescue. He had enough spare goggles that both Laura and I were able to have one pair and spares.
From here onwards, any reference to ‘my’ items of kit should be read with a pinch of salt...

Race day
Woke up at 6am with a hangover. You know, the sort you get from drinking too much Polish lager the night before, with sunburn, dehydration and a stomach that didn’t really want to play. If we hadn’t packed everything the night before then I’d have sacked it off right now and gone back to bed.

Artur was up and surprisingly chirpy given he’d raced the day before. I suspect my first words to him (between trips to the bathroom and eating Jody’s flapjacks that he’d foolishly left in our kitchen) were along the lines of “I hate you.” This would be a common theme for the day.

Mrs JB was up too – she was going to do just the swim before pulling out and had borrowed Bendy’s wetsuit. “This is all your fault,” I grumbled as we got in the car. In all honesty, the hangover was probably a good thing as it prevented any pre-race worrying or nerves. We got to the race, I racked the bike and chucked my stuff into the box beside the bike in no particular order, other than bike shoes being on top of run shoes.

We had an hour to kill, which was mostly spent frequenting portaloos (despite plenty of immodium) that had had two days of use, moaning about how shit I felt and a warm-up swim – about 100m or so, trying to remember how to swim. I also stuck in about 15m of butterfly to really worry the other competitors. Artur informed us that the race would be starting in about ten minutes and we needed to go to the beach, so we duly did.

A loud shout from the sidelines made us realise that the rest of the kit-lending bastards, sorry, crew had arrived, and we went over for high-fives and a quick hello, and a lot of “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” followed by “I hate you”. I think Jody was a little upset: while the wetsuit made me look like a majestic orca, powerful and ready for the swim, it had made him look like a manatee.

Standing around with the other rubber-suited penguins on the beach brought home what I was about to do, and a sudden sense of calm and focus came over me. The epic music began, and the cannon went off.

A little interjection here: this is the first time I have EVER been ready at the swim start, where I am supposed to be, when the gun goes off, and I wasn’t even supposed to be racing.

Gave Mrs JB a quick kiss as we walked into the water. I had no aspirations to do particularly well as I have only been swimming twice since Les Stables last year, and haven’t done any open water swimming since then, so was at the back of the pack. This was a mistake. I had to swim through a lot of people breaststroking, stopping, cocking about and generally slowing me up, and didn’t find any clear water until rounding the last buoy, some 300m from the exit. I was feeling good, and the fresh water took my hangover away (until I exited the water). I thought about technique, how much better I was feeling and finally about what I had to do in transition (and that I really needed a wee – but thought it would be rather poor form to urinate in Jody’s wetsuit, despite the fact he’d probably like it). I went through each step in my head calmly and organised my thoughts, and even remembered to kick my legs a bit more to get some blood down to them. To the swim exit, got yanked out of the water, and started off up the hill to transition.
Swim – 19:38 (277th)

Transition 1 – the less said about this the better. My incredible pre-race preparation of lobbing everything into the box meant I had to find suncream, socks and t-shirt which were all under my bike and run shoes. And my hangover began to come back. Bugger. Another very long run to bike out meant a T1 of just over 8 minutes.

The bike. Well, Sarah’s bike. The thing that I obviously hadn’t done the night before was raise the saddle. I am going to say this is because I am a caring and delightful chap who didn’t want Sarah to have to go to the bother of putting it back down again after the race. The reality is that I was drunk and not thinking straight when I agreed to race (clearly) and didn’t do it then. So, a shortened pedal stroke, narrow bars, short top tube and oversize bike shoes made for a less-than-rapid bike split. Oh, and Friday’s ‘kill your legs so you can’t race on Sunday’ session very much came back to haunt me. The course itself is very nice. The tarmac is lovely and smooth, the hills, such as they are, not particularly long or steep, and the downhills seemed to go on for much further than they should have.

From the start I didn’t really get going. My legs were hurting, my head was hurting and I wasn’t going particularly quickly, and I was ready to jack it in almost as soon as I’d started. The discomfort lasted pretty much the whole first lap. I was being passed by a near-constant stream of people on tt bikes, road bikes, mountain bikes, hybrids, a tandem… The wind then decided to put in appearance for what should have been a lovely fast long downhill. Bollocks. Then as I rounded the corner before transition, everything suddenly stopped hurting and there was a huge cry of “COME ON JB!” As always, this gave me a second wind and, combined with the disappearing discomfort I pushed on hard. Shortly afterward a Polish chap came past “You JB?” “Yup” “They’re loud! COME ON!” This wasn’t going to be the only time in the day that the social-nuisance level of noise made by the BCTTT crew was complained about.

Lap 2 was some ten minutes quicker than lap 1, despite the wind, and I was passed by fewer people than lap 1 (arguably because all of them had already gone past). No loud shout from the sidelines this time as I entered T2, and I wondered where I’d see the noisy bastards again. (Still need a wee).
Bike – 1:43 (average 16mph, top speed 33mph: 687th)

Transition 2 – Well, not much to say really. It took half the time of T1, and off I went.

I started the run relatively strongly as my hangover had pretty much gone after lap 2 of the bike, and began to wonder where… “COME ON JB!!” Found them. The noise made the lady in front of me jump and look round in horror – I imagine she thought somebody had just been killed, such was the din. I got a few high-fives (including Kris’s Go-Pro – bet that footage looks special), and once I rounded the corner into the first aid station I slowed down to grab some water.

The run is brilliant, depending on what sort of running you like doing. I live on a hill by the woods and am surrounded by muddy trails with tree roots, steep hills, and grass. It was a tough run, but I absolutely love runs like that. About 1.5km in and I finally stopped for a wee and felt much better. I trundled along: although it hot the woods were nice and shady, but my lack of long training sessions (or anything even resembling tri training) began to show and I was tiring. The run came out of the woods briefly and across a nice open area before climbing up into the woods again, passing the 4km/8km sign.

I could hear them before I could see them. In true BCTTT style the guys were whooping, cheering and general making a racket for everyone who came past. I imagine there were a lot of Poles who had never heard their names pronounced like that before, but I think they got the message. As I bumbled into view there was a lot of “Is that him? I don’t know, could be. JB?” Then “COME ON JB!!”

The position of the crew was quite fortuitous for making my running look not too bad. At the top of a steepish drop down towards the lake meant that I could do the bit of running that I’m best at – which Mrs JB has on occasion likened to a stone plummeting off a cliff. Brain off, brakes off, as Christopher McDougall quoted someone in Born to Run. I overtook one chap on the way down, who, on passing me on the switchbacks (see later), commented on the speed at which I’d passed him and on how noisy the BCTTT were.

At the bottom of the hill you see the lake and hit the first switchback (where we’d been sitting the day before). Everyone had mentioned that the switchbacks go on further than you think. All the way back up the hill in fact. Jog one, walk one, jog one, walk one. There are about 15 turns in total, so as you can imagine it took a little while. I imagine for everyone this final km has both the fastest times (the downhill) and the slowest times (switchbacks) of the whole run. At the top there’s another couple of hundred metres and you’re back onto the track to either finish or start the last loop.

I started the second loop and heard that the crew had found their way back up to just before the aid station. No slowing down for me this time, not with all those people shouting at me. I meandered past them and off into the nice quiet, peaceful woods. Out, along the tarmac for 750m or so, back into the woods, out across the open bit, back in to the much less peaceful other half of the woods.

Yup, this lot again. I’ll give them their credit, they were just as loud as they had been at the start of the run, perhaps even louder and more enthusiastic. Another fast downhill to the lake – which I believe is only on film for as long as international triathlete Kris could keep up with my gravity-assisted descent – up the switchbacks and then onto the track to get to the finish. The crowds had swelled from the first loop as more competitors had finished so the entire left-hand side was full of competitors cheering on those who hadn’t finished yet from the comfort of the finishers’ area, and the right-hand side full of their families and people in transition collecting their bikes.

It was noisy and brilliant. I rounded the end of the finishing chute where the BCTTT wall of noise had relocated itself to. There was a chap in front of me who had acquired some children from somewhere to take across the line (as we had seen the day before), but there were none left for me. Rather than sprint to the end and overtake him and ruin his photo, I ambled down, soaking up the atmosphere and wondering where to get the burger, beer and ice-cream.
Run – 1:17
Total – 3:35 and some seconds.

A pretty lady gave me a nice big medal, and, being British, I joined the first queue I could find. It turned out this was for the burger. This acquired, I leaned over the railings for a chat with some of the BCTTT who were now on their own mission to find food. I picked up my beer (which is a remarkably excellent idea at the end of the race after the sweet stuff you normally spend the race eating), and grabbed an ice cream. Result! They didn’t cross off the ice cream on my number, so after chatting with the crew for a while, I went back into the finishers’ area, grabbed another ice cream and headed off to transition to get my kit.

I cannot praise the organisers enough for turning what we thought was going to be a fairly low-key, provincial race (similar to the Little Woody) into something that, in my opinion, bettered the organisation and atmosphere of an Ironman.

I could go on at length about the next few days spent with the Koteks seeing their hometown and how it is developing (it’ll be really interesting to go back next year to see how it’s all going), eating great food and drinking a lot, but I imagine your patience with me is wearing thin, and so, dear reader, this is the end.

[kfjatek]

smouldering lump of carnal desire

...is now officially my favourite phrase in the English language. This is no man crush, Joddybear, but true love - cherish it lad.

I kind of knew you'd end up doing the Sunday race - saw it in your eyes when we went to race HQ on Friday to pick up the packs. You had a serious case of race envy and triathlon withdrawal. Already then it was not the question of "if" but "after how much lager" you'd decide to do it.

Fantastic race report - well done.

Going next year?

[JoddyBear]

I feel that my glory is underrepresented, but i'll hold my peace.

That's peace kevy, not piece!

Great read JB, and a cracking effort, especially the lunges my little love muffin x

[CCS]

Another great report and an epic tale of man love
Poland seems to be spawning a number of contenders for race report of the year!
Glad to see it seems to have rekindled your love for the sport too

[King Sad]

Nothing says 'I love you' more than for two men to share a wetsuit

All I can say is Artur has done a cracking job, This race has resulted in epic feats of athleticism, the organisation and venue sounds absolutely incredible and inspired some of the best reports I have had the honour and pleasure to read. I am sure that Channel 4 would be very interested in doing a documentary next year.

Once again, very many congratulations to you all

[Bendy Ben]

Epic Jb you beauty.

Tbh I was effing stunned when I got up on the Sunday and was told you'd actually gone to race start.

Loved seeing you race again, made my trip

[Tarka the Nutter]

So the being so drunk bit explains why you never bothered to text me to confirm you were racing then and what time we were all leaving. Good thing i was awake bright and early to be ready in time I didn't think you were going to do it.

Never had so much fun supporting before. The gang were awesome.

Not sure I should write a race report. I can't write anything anywhere near as funny as you lot It'd be positively boring.

[Jack Hughes]

Not sure I should write a race report. I can't write anything anywhere near as funny as you lot It'd be positively boring.

But you could spell and punctuate it nicely, and paginate it.

It's only Kawasaczi's that I've managed to complete so far.

I just read the last paragraph of Jelly's, to see if it had a happy ending.

[Tarka the Nutter]

Ha ha, maybe. I've been too busy laughing at them to spot things

I almost started it this morning, then I had to do some work!

[Bopomofo]

...but there was no mistaking the smouldering lump of carnal desire we know as Jody. You could feel him coming. The collective orgasmic shudder from the crowd was palpable.

Fifty Shades of Jody. I almost had to pause reading this and go for some 'relief'.

Loved reading this, Jelly. In fact, all the Sieraków reports have been great. It's not just that you all had a good time, it's that you all had the best time and the race reports confirm that everybody else did too.