Pre-Transatlantic Way - The woes, the wobbles (litterally) and the Way.

In 10 days we embark on the Transatlanticway – a 1400 (ish) mile race over ¾ of the way around the Irish Coastline.  It’s known to be a bit of a gueller. 

1. a)      It’s a long way.
2. b)      It’s into the prevailing wind for a large proportion of its distance
3. c)       It pisses it down a lot on the west coast of Ireland
4. d)      It’s still a long way

People have asked the Adventure Syndicate (a group of female adventurers who spend their lives adventurising and through doing so aim to encourage people – mainly women and girls – to take on new adventures… or as we called it in the 80’s – turn off your TV set and go and do something more interesting)… anyway, people have asked them, “are there any normal people out there, doing this stuff, y’know, people with jobs and normal lives?”

I give you, me.  And, to be fair, plenty of others – teachers, nurses and yes, engineers, IT professionals, scientists, accountants, researchers, authors – who ride by morning and evening and spend 8 hours or more 5 days or more a week at someone else’s disposal before hurtling around like lunatics the rest of the time, trying to squeeze into some kind of major event or another every so often along with all of the training required to even get you onto the start line, never mind over it and around to the finish.  Our only major contribution to the encouragement of others to take on adventurising?  We turn up and watch the events, the presentations, the videos, buy into the rhetoric then purchase all our own kit (or eachothers' off-casts) to keep the industry that supports the real winners afloat.

In the meantime we try our best to perpetuate the myth in our personal theatres, offices, factory floors and board rooms but inevitably at the end of the day, still manage to come across as some kind of unearthly super-human to your average desk touting, machine operating, scalpel weilding, hospital gown folding, board-rubber hurling podgy average human being (there are intentionally lots of averages in there).

The inevitable response to “I’m just an average human being” is to gaffaw in wonder.  Occasionally we draw one in and they go on to complete multiple ironmans – but its rare.

I have done precisely 41% of the volume of training I wanted to do for this race.  Trust me, I have a spreadsheet that shows it because if there's one thing engineering professionals can do well, it's write spreadsheets. 

Almost as soon as I’d finished my last long ride (during which I entered this one) I drew up a plan to get me from the measly volume of riding I had been doing to where I wanted to be (right now, as I sit here typing this). 

The plan involved multiple long rides during the week combined with long efforts at the weekend, responsibly interspersed with rest days in between.  The gains in distance across time were unfathomable so I did a stupid thing and took out some of the rest days to smooth the leaps.  In retrospect it was always set to fail but also, as happens with every day Joes (and Janes) the job took over. 

I’m a senior engineer for a gases company but I have no control over anything.  Senior managers retain all that –and I’m talking really senior.  So getting a project and delivering it are two very different things.  I won’t labour the point in my blog but my beloved career (and I do love it) has taken over this year as I try to do the career of two people.  If I was a real engineer, this wouldn’t be a problem.  I’d spend my weekends working or building trains for fun and my week days and nights working for the love of it but fortunately I’m also afflicted with the joy of cycling.  I could have improved my fitness through strength training exercises but fortunately, I enjoy riding my bike so much more than lifting weights or squatting on a mat so I tend to ride my bike instead of hitting the gym.  Such is life.

So here I am – a REAL person – trying to do something unreal - Race a bicycle around Ireland in 7-15 days (accepting that I’m going to be slow here) clocking up 100 miles a day and surviving on a minimal amount of sleep where it can be grasped – B&Bs, campsites, hotels, hostels, benches, beaches or bus stops.

I made one more mistake – which I’m prone to do with these things, but that’s the fun part of it – the learning.  Instead of just sticking to my training plan and doing what I’d told myself, I decided to resume Audax UK riding.  

Audaxes are long distance rides (usually over 200km – though shorter ones exist) which are published routes undertaken solo or as part of a group ride on a given date.  The organisers publish the route file, feed you at the start, monitor your progress as you collect receipts or stamps from establishments along the route to prove your passage.  You then get a pass or fail mark for completing within a set time frame which is based on a 15 to 30km/hr speed (so quite generous really for the average cyclist). 

It sounds like an excellent way to start getting more miles into the legs no?  It is and I got hooked in a way.  I decided I wanted to get my first RRtY badge.  Audax isn’t competitive (pass/fail result) and so to replace this, cloth badges are given in exchange for targets.  I have several 200 badges but felt the need to extend my collection to a ride-round-the-year badge – at least one 200km ride every month for 12 months.  I added a few 300km rides to the suite to buck the distances.

The traditional way to do this is to start in the winter months to get the worst over with and thereby increase your chances of completions as time goes by and you get more tired – but the rides get easier.  I started training in October and was blessed with weather then did my first ride in December, January, February – all in excellent conditions for the season.  Then I upped my game to a 300, nearly died of snow, timed out and so set off on a campaign of 2 weekly-audaxes to make sure I hit my RRtY target.  

Within 10 weeeks I’d done a out-of-time 300, a 200 to replace it, another 300 to nail the distance before shit got real with Ireland and then my scheduled 200 in May.  That was two weeks ago.  This has all led to a lurcher effect, lurching from one ride and recovery to the next without actually managing to squeeze in any real training rides or weightlifting.

It all sounds productive “riding your bike” training but audaxes – though completed on more comfy bikes than an average road race - are generally much lighter than long distance independent race machines – particularly how I prefer to travel.  I’ve done a lot of long rides which have been towards that 15 kph scale and not particularly heavily laden (although I did take a 1kg lock on a few for good measure).  Unfortunately I haven’t done many 50 – 90 mile rides carrying the full weight of my race rig.

The valid fact is, without the audaxes to keep me going, there's a very significant chance I wouldn't have riden nearly as far as I have this year.  Without the set dates to aim for, the work excuses come into the fray.  The days off to prepare for a ride don't get booked and a late night Friday and an early start Monday all begin to eat into riding time.  In balance, I feel it's been the best training I could have done, even if not the most relevant.

Yesterday we went for our first weighted ride since January AND IT WAS TOUGH.  What was it about this one that made it tougher than January of all times?  Well, straight forwards: In January, we travelled together as a pair – we shared a tent, a stove, a fuel bottle, a lighter.  In January, it was only for 1 night – we didn’t pack any spare clothing on the basis that the next day would see us warm, dry and moderately clean again. In January, we did all of our packing the day before, drove down to a hotel and started fresh in the morning.

Yesterday, for the authentic experience and to minimise the amount of time we spent on the bike eating into our precious recovery… yesterday, we got up at 6am, spent a sizeable portion of the morning doing pre-race planning like plotting an audax route to be integral to the race, ordering club kit before we go, planning some overnight stops (ha! Planning).  We then went for lunch before spending a sizeable portion of the afternoon and early evening digging out all of our kit and loading it on the bikes.  This time, a tent each, stove each (because reasons*), cups, “cutlery”, pegs, food supplies & coffee – race quantities (at least day 1) measured out into containers and packed.  We then ate our dinner and finally set out for a ride at about 8:30pm.

As a baptism of fire (and to stay in the evening sun) we rode up the hill, not down.  As music blared from neighbours' houses and passing cars we realised it was an exceptional evening to leave the city.

The Sunset over Stanage Edge was impossible to capture fully on a phone
but I did have to try.

We rode a familiar route - down Frogatt (much scarier with a suddenly laden bike and brakes that you're putting off servicing until the last minute), across Calver crossroads and joined the Monsal Trail at Hassop station.  

We dipped in and out of tunnels with chilly subterranean air and pottered about looking for somewhere to bivi for the night.  In our search we found glow worms and then a perfect pitch.  Tents were up in no time.  I was too cold not to get in my sleeping bag and feeling a bit exposed - in more ways than one.  a) we'd only ridden 20 miles and I was knackered b) I pitched my tent straight into the wind and a chilly breeze was blowing straight over me.  

I admit, I didn't clean my teeth and fell almost straight to sleep.  It didn't last long though and I woke shivering in the breeze with a tail off my tent guys tapping the canvas right above my head.  My ear plugs were still in a bag on my bike.

There was no point waiting it out - I got up, undid all the guys, span the tent 180 degrees, span my sleep mat back 180 degrees and got my ear plugs out of the bag.  I got in the tent and it was baggy and on the piss so I had to get out and fix it all up again. It was approximately 1:30am. It all worked and I got back in and slept straight through to the alarm at 5am.  It's all about the practice right?

We were fed and caffeinated by 7 but then delayed our departure because unexplained reasons.  It was 8:30 when we arrived back at Calver to treat ourselves to more coffee and teacakes at the caf.  I checked and was impressed by my friend's Ironman time - another great normal person with a normal life doing brilliant stuff.  More and better.

We resumed our ride, back over Froggatt.  The climb was long but I still had a gear left and crested the hill without any bother.  We descended to town and to be honest, the urge to keep going on somewhere else was overwhelming but I stayed en route to home, promising myself that when I got in I'd sort some stuff out.  I don't need to over-do it now.

I worked through into the mid day sun, working on TSK's bike a little then eating in the garden.  Eventually I wilted indoors before flopping into bed and sleeping solidly for 2 hours.

When the alarm went off at 3pm to make sure I can sleep tonight, I felt like hell.  I snoozed for a bit longer, convinced that by the time I woke up it would be 6pm and TSK would be coming home.  It was, thankfully, only 3:30 and I at least felt like writing and eating toast - yes toast, I was SO hungry.  

How am I going to ride 1400 miles? I am wondering.  I can't even manage 40 without collapsing into bed!  So I've come to my blog to find answers.  Stories of all the times I've tried to do too much up to two weeks after an audax.  Stories of how I feel amazing just 3 weeks after an audax.  Of how that's the perfect time to recover.  To remind myself of the progression: In February - no rides after an audax, March - 40 miles after an audax, April - 60 miles + 2 x 25s + 2 audaxes, May - a 60 mile + 2 x 40 miles with all the extra gear on board, not to mention 2 x 60 mile Norton rides.  Yeah, I think I did OK.  Yeah, I think that finally, my recovery is justified.

Today's ride (and yesterday's) unnerved me a bit.  I wish I'd done more on a loaded bike but weather, commitments, audaxing, life aside, could I have done it?  Yeah - if I'd wanted to.  If I'd put audaxing to one side.  Would I have done it?  Probably not.

The heat probably also contributed to how I felt today.  I didn't really notice it riding but I was clearly dehydrated and cooked myself in the garden a bit when I got home.  Reasons to be relieved if it rains in Ireland.  Reasons to stare the wind in the face and say, "So?".

The fact is, I'm now here, 10 days from the start.  I have 10 days to get used to riding with weights or 10 days to recover my muscles.  It will likely be a combination of both so I've left the bike packed as there's every chance he's going to come to work with me for a few days so I can adjust fully, get the hips in check and take a few steps closer to getting the brain in check.

For on the 7th, we ride!

*If you can't believe I'm carrying a stove, reasons is this: I like to be self-sufficient and I also like to eat.  Running my body on empty is not really an option.  Yeah yeah, we can all do it - for a limited period only - but I am female, 5'11'' and skinny as fuck (well, 65kg so not completely skinny).  Yes, I have some body fat but I like it and it's normal.  My normal weight without effort is not very fat though.  So if I get into a hole I will suffer for days.  My brain goes to goo and I can't achieve anything.  I'd rather carry a bag of desiccated food and finish a day in good shape with a meal than face a sleepless rest feeling hungry and miserable.  It also means I can make myself a coffee when I'm feeling washed out which will be the difference between making it to a cafe in an hour rather than 2 hours if I'm falling asleep on my feet - which has been know to happen - literally.  Besides this, for me, independent racing is as much about the camping as it is about the cycling.  If I had the fitness to win this thing then yes, I might only take 7 days off work and ride through and eat shit in petrol stations but as it is, despite it being a race, I am in it to enjoy my holidays and, quite frankly, the number of times I have mulled over leaving behind my trusty stove behind has been far outweighed by the number of times its presence has both brought me joy and saved my bacon.  It is the freedom to eat where I choose and experience some amazing sunsets as a result.   I have a lightweight titanium stove and meths stash which I anticipate will last me at least half of the race.

(final) lessons learned - regular matches and a stove cap are required.  My tent can not be pitched with the door into a cool breeze! My synthetic jacket is the best hat I have. My eye mask and ear plugs need to live in the sleeping bag.

The rest will soon be history.