Folly

 

Years ago I remember my mother shouting at me to ‘Take those wet clothes of before you catch your death of cold.’ During the winter months, when I was a child, I had to wear a vest and a liberty bodice to make sure that I did not get cold. I remember roasting at school where there were radiators in those old Victorian school class rooms. When my brother left home to work in London she would write to him to tell him he must wear a vest to keep his chest warm. 

These days in winter, for every twenty or so school children on their way to school there will be one ‘Hard Case’ boy wearing just a short sleeved shirt. I always smile when I see this and think ‘He’ll regret that when he’s older and started to get arthritis’. 

This morning, I am smiling again about the stupidity of hanging around in wet clothes or not having taken a coat or at least a cardigan when the weather looks dodgy. Except this time it is somebody who is old enough to know better that I am smiling about, and that idiot, is me. 

This morning, having been away at Windsor for the weekend racing, I have unpacked both of our race back packs that we took our kit to the event in. Everything was soaked through and not smelling that sweetly after staying in our van overnight in that sopping state. You lay the things you need out in the transition ready to put on after the swim leg, to change into your bike shoes and socks in my case. Put your helmet and sun glasses on and away on your bike for 25 miles. Then change to trainers and off on the run. 

Of course yesterday it rained pretty much most of the day and I rode my bike in a thin short sleeved top and equally light shorts. I got well and truly drenched and then put the soggy trainers on for the run. Afterwards, returning to transition having finished my race I put the coat I had worn to the race, several hours before, on over my soaking wet race kit. The coat was only a little bit damp and the cap that I had not worn on the run was very wet but I still put it on because two layers of damp clothing are still warmer than one layer of damp clothing, oh and the luxury of finding that my lycra Capri pants were dry, so I piled them on too. Then I went out in the pouring rain on the course to give support to my husband who still had two laps of the run still to do.  

When he finished the race as well, we collected our bikes and kit and walked a mile in the rain to our van and put out bikes away in the dry. We then drove around for bit with the heater blasting at full pelt to try to dry our clothes on our bodies before the Award Ceremony an hour and a half later since I was an age  group winner. It was funny then, when I asked the race elite winner, Olympian Stuart Hayes, to have a photo taken with me, because he apologised for being soaking wet having just thrown huge prizes of gallons of beer over each other on the podium as they do, beer this time rather than bubbly. 

When Steve and I got back to our hotel, we had hot drinks and a hot bath and got in bed for a couple of hours TV in the afternoon until we warmed up again. So Mum if you were watching, I know you would have given me a good slap for my stupidity yesterday. No vest, no liberty bodice, stewed in wet clothes for hours and old enough to know better.