2016 in numbers and photos

70 miles swum
3095 miles on a bike
481 miles run
200 miles of other things

January

I took a lot of pictures of the canal to wash away the dubious nature of winter training.

February

In stark contrast to February which turned into the most glorious and beautiful ski trip I have ever known.

March

 We went to Kielder to recce an Ironman course.  I love making this post every year because although we went to Kielder on 29th March, this picture makes the spring seem so close.

April

Stockton and my first race in GB kit where I was relieved to find out that it works.

May

Goes down as the second best month of the year.  The training, the sun, representing my country and a great holiday.

June

Kielder was back in full Iron-distance force.  I did the best I could.  There is little more to say.  Chuffed beyond belief to have finished a second one - proving the first wasn't fluke and exercising the demons that this is not my distance.

 

July

With all the endurance of an Ironman in me I set about enjoying everything, including my ride out to run the Great Hucklow Fell Race, The inaugral Legend Half Triathlon (which sowed the seeds of intention for 2017) and the Holme Moss Fell Race.

August

I was back to standard distance racing with a last-ditch attempt to qualify for the European Championships 2017 again.  At first I thought I'd qualified and then it transpired that a junior (in the 35 - 39 category) was moving up next year and had pushed me out by 24 seconds.

Far from being angry or disapointed at this, I took it in my stride - mostly because triathlon racing is purely empirical.  Rules are rules and if you're not fast enough, you're not fast enough.  Opinion doesn't come into it.

September

Best month.  Best holiday ever. Torino Nice Rally broke me but filled my heart.

Annual pilgrimage to the Yorkshire Dales.  Less than annual pilgrimage closer to breaking the 5 hour mark this year spurred me on to do bigger and better things next year.

October

As Britain voted to exit the EU I chose exactly the wrong time to enter the Alpe d'Huez Triathlon next year.  Sometimes when you need a goal you gotta get a goal but potentially, I paid more for my entry fee than anyone else in the UK.

Oh, and cyclo-cross started.

which is fun because I get to play with the big girls (all of which are smaller than me).

November

Must have been a slog as I have few nice photos to show for it.  TSK went to help with pedal cars and I got one nice MTB ride done and had an early, tentative tri training kind of a run (which then got abandoned as the 'cross season hotted up).

December

Work got silly, I got silly, everything came crashing in on me and then I made Christmas happen.  I ignored all the shit.  Built a life and lived it.  All I have to do is keep the momentum and keep my calm.  Keep hold of life.

I kept hold of the threads of actually managing to combine business and pleasure a few times this year and started to find that the more I rode towards 2017, the better 2016 got.  Now I'm hoping to carry it all forward in the ethos of never stop trying.

Phrrrrrrt!

2016 is fizzling out like a bad smelling fart here.

What started as an epic and enthusiastic week got battered by storms. There are domesyic chores I promised myself I would do and I feel I had better get them done by the end of the year otherwise it will be back to work and everything will get forgotten till next year... maybe.

The curtain fabric for the living room has been rolled up in a plastic bag since 2013 (according to the label).  It has now reached something curtains-shaped with only the hemming and hanging to do.

Then there's the not-so-small matter of a training plan for next year. A work in progress which now needs finishing for motivational purposes following the cyclo cross season so as not to waste all that goodly gotten progress. Like a big wave of momentum crashing from the high of the 'cross nationals into 'learning to swin again' (yay!)

The plan is complicated this year. Breaks every 2 or 3 days because I have learned that I thrive on good recovery. This approach also allows me more space to juggle work commitments, though my new years resolution is to bow to those interruptions less frequently. I may even apply for unpaid leave on our flexible benefits to give me more time to train and travel to/from events. So I know my plan is too complicated and so probably wrong but there is purpose and methodology to it and it is now complete and black and white so there's another bit of 2016's chores out of the way.

Tomorrow is its last day. It's been an ok year for me, with highlights in May (Lisbon), June (Kielder), July (The Legend Tri) and September - TorinoNice (forever engraved in my heart) and a great 3 Peaks Cyclo-cross.

After that, the 'cross season was everything I needed it to be: great fun. If my reaction on Tuesday is anything to go by, "Is that it? Is it over?", my endurance on the bike is thriving.

Come and get it 2017!

Worthing Standard Triathlon - ITU European Qualifiers 2016

Rollercoaster.

Driving down to Brighton on a bank holiday Friday.  Watching the queuing traffic on the North-bound carriageway as we sailed through all the way to Gatwick before reaching any traffic.  Then we were off again and arrived, partially sweltering at 10:30pm to unload the car into my friend's house as our weekend base.

I had a poor night's sleep - heat, an open window and noisy neighbours, a snoring tiger who slept in the middle of the bed and left me switching between the edge of the mattress and the cat sofa.

Registration was a pleasure as I bumped into a team mate at registration. She wanted to remain nameless as it was her first standard distance race. Still,  a real pleasure to catch up and offer some encouragement though I was a little stuck for advice to give as she is an accomplished sprint racer.  It was however, frighteningly hot.  I sweltered through a walk in town then drove to registration to save my legs and get some time in an air conditioned car.  I yearned for my cool, stone house in Yorkshire.  We drove the bike route to get familiar with it and a slightly complicated turn-around point and also to pass a bit more time in the air conditioning of the car and just about managed to drink enough to stay hydrated before going to bed.

Thankfully, with a single mattress pulled onto the floor of our room and ear plugs, I had a much better night's sleep and was actually ready to get up at 5:15am for breakfast and race packing as the wind battered the windows in the kitchen.  The sky blackened as we drove east and rain spattered the car - or was it sea spray?  Hard to tell.

In Worthing, the weather was very different from registration.  I actually queued for the loo wearing my fleece. Straight to the start line. We were counted into the water and allowed a quick familiarisation swim before being pulled out to do an impressive running start into the crashing waves. They literally were 4 ft tall. On the start line I was laughing. Excited. I would happily have spent all day in there playing on a surf board or just body surfing. I thought the swim was going to be a blast! I rubbed my hands together with glee.

The siren sounded and we threw ourselves at the waves. Belly flopping into the waves seemed more feasible than running and thankfully there was soon enough water to support my weight and I started swimming.

For about 4 minutes I tried to keep with the group but keeping and swimming into are different things and I found my long, slim frame getting buffetted left and right by the waves.  It was almost impossible for me to swim crawl in a straight line and less possible for me to breathe.  I really couldn't time the waves and was either fighting for breath to stay on course or being smacked in the face by a 5 foot wave.

The kayak support were rapidly waving at me to change my line just to stay on the right side of the buoy and once safely around that, things rapidly got worse and I resorted to breast stroke just to keep myself on line and get my breath back.  Every time I stuck my face in the water I got blown inside the buoys towards the shore.  I accidentally swam into another competitor who got quite pissed off with me - justifiably - and when someone started swimming on my feet I just screamed, "oh for fuck's sake, give me some fucking room".  Yeah, it was starting to get a bit tetchy out there.  The woman in front of me didn't seem to be able to believe it and kept treading water, looking around to seek assurance from everyone else that this really was happening, we really were doing this right?  I know how she felt.  I started to wonder if they'd cancel the rest of the races.

Breast stroke it is then.  Possibly my best decision.  I decided a qualifying time was out of the window so I started to relax and just enjoy my day.  Once I'd calmed down I started to swim competitive breast stroke, breathing under the water and properly skimming.  I caught a few people up - still struggling from earlier waves.

I knew I wasn't going to turn around at the first buoy because that had been from the sprint race so looked towards the second buoy.... but then another one appeared!  SHeesh.

I kept going with breast stroke.  Having tried a sneaky crawl and been nearly drowned again I decided it wasn't a good idea and got back to the breast stroke.  At least the return to base was downhill (with a tail wind).  Around the buoy it was hard to see where to go.  A lot of people were cutting a straight line for transition which seemed like a massive short cut to me and I'm still not happy with some of the record-breaking swim times on the results sheet.  I stuck out towards the line of buoys so I wouldn't get dq'd or washed to shore forcing me to swim back out to finish.  At times I had people coming the other way swimming within 2 feet of me as they were being washed inshore.

Finally, I cut the corner when it felt reasonable to do so and clambered out feeling deidedly battered.  A painful run up a rocky beach followed by a gravelly carpark and I could get my cycling kit on.

I decided for a fleece jersey to cover the impending cloud-doom and gusty conditions and don't regret it.  I only felt hot once or twice and the heavens opened briefly on the course.

The ride out of town passed without fail.  Impressive given the potholes and speed bumps.

Out of town the ride was pleasant - undulating and the climbs suited me down to the ground.  Although not steep, I had to put some effort in to the long climbs.  I got passed by a guy on the ups and caught him back up on the flats and downhills.

Looking at my watch and doing a bit of maths I realised that my swim couldn't have actually been that bad.  I must've still managed to pull a 32 minutes swim out of the bag.  I mean it's not great but I've qualified with less.  I was still competitive.  I put a bit of effort in after that.

I got a brief draft of a tesco lorry passing on the best part of the course.  Obviously I immediately backed off to the recommended distance but Tesco lorries don't half pull!

I ground out the bike ride in 1hr 22min.  Pretty pleased.  Not as good as Bala but still competitive.

Coming back into base I knew I could look forwards to seeing Lucy on the run and of course, TSK, who was out with his mountain bike.

I had a good run transition but didn't pick up any gels.  Oh well, I'd have to manage.  What I did know was it was going to be windy - well, half windy!  Tail wind out, head wind in.  With two laps to do, it was on-load, off-load.  I was running well.  A little wobbly but that would go away.  I hammered it down the straight.  I was getting passed by a lot of people but I mostly put this down to much faster runners on their second lap getting ready to finish.  I waved to some of the other 40s girls, well ahead of me going the other way.

Lucy was at the turnaround point offering cheers and shouted, "find someone to run behind" as I turned into the headwind.

A man came past me and I got in behind him and stuck with him as long as I could but the pace was not sustainable and I didn't just want to blow up so I dropped back to my own pace at the pain of running into the headwind.  Then the engineer in me realised that if I couldn't run behind a person I could at least run behind the beach huts.  Genius. That saved me some effort.

Onto lap two and Lucy had headed home to race Steve back to the house from Worthing.  I still thought I was going to see her though which made me keep going - at least keep looking like I knew what I was doing.  Back at the final turnaround point and I caught up a lady with red hair.  I drafted her for a while but she just wasn't going fast enough anymore.  I didn't want to pass her and then die in the wind but I really thought I could do better so I came past and encouraged her to sit behind me for a bit so we could work together to the finish line.

Unfortunately she couldn't keep up with me and I left her behind.  A blonde lady came past me and I sat behind her up to the lap 2 turnaround where she picked up a band and headed out on her second lap leaving me to run into the headwind on my own until the finish.  I was back to drafting beach huts.

Finally the line came into view.  A drop down from the beach promenade into the finishing field and a push for the extra few seconds to finish.  No gels - so a perfectly balanced lead up to the race.  I knew I'd done everything right this time except for a few seconds wasted in transition.  A race I could truly be proud of and one I found incredibly enjoyable with a side order of spending time with great friends over the weekend.

Only one thing remained, did I get a qualifying time for Kitzbuhel or not?  Well, upon initial inspection it appeared that I had, with the winner of my AG finishing in 2:24 and me in 2:50, giving me 118% of the winner's time.  However, a lady moving up into 40-44 AG next year did finish faster in 2:21:38 (20:54, 1:16, 42:14), putting me 0.17% outside a qualifying time.

Am I disappointed?  No, not really.  Unlike last year, I didn't invest this whole year in AG qualifying, it would have been the cherry on a rather tasty cake - a cake largely made from Iron distance, with a thick layer of Half Ironman cream in the middle and a surprising quantity of enjoyable jam underneath.  The icing is having made enough time to prepare for a very enjoyable summer holiday experience on the mountain bike (more to follow) and the coffee that goes with the cake is figuring out just where I feel I might like to otherwise direct my efforts for next year and I'm quite excited about that.

Stats:
Number of entrants: 522
Number of brave starters: 411
Number of people still competing after the swim: 367
Swim: 32:28 306th, 100/110 19/20
T1: 3:07 352! 345/361 105/110 19/20
Bike: 1:22:24 277th (normality restored) 59/110 10/20
T2: 1:16 298th 81/110 17/20
Run: 50:57 (nowt special but enough) 288th 67/110 10/20

So... swim training it is then!

Thoughts before Worthing (think Worthers Originals).

Worthers Originals

I can't remember the name of this race I'm going to next week.  It's not a place I know anything about.  I had to look up where it is.  I might have been once, but can't quite be sure.

I have to think of the delicious childhood sweets, to recall the name of the place.  Sometimes "Worthing" gets a "ton" on the end of it but Worthington is in Leicestershire so I'm not going there... at least I hope I'm not going there as I'm staying in Brighton.

Worthing is the only qualifying race I can make for the Europeans next year - Liverpool having been filled before I was ready to enter and the Ellesmere race clashing with this year's Europeans.  So I have one shot at it.

I haven't put nearly as much specific effort into this race as I did when I qualified last year at Bala.  I've done a lot of running but none of it short and fast.  I've done a lot of cycling now to get ready for Torino Nice - but none of it fast and flat.  I've done a bit of very pleasant swimming but I'm not sure how that will see me perform in the sea swim at Worthing.  All I can hope is I fare better than a few others because I am less prone to wobbles of confidence in the waves and more likely to take anti-sickness pills on the basis that I can feel ill on a flat lake in August.  And the yoga!  Let's not forget the yoga which I've done with reasonable regularity, either in classes or at home / work.

I seem to have a brick wall outside my front and back doors today.  I've dressed like a runner but so far have failed to exit the doors.  Possibly I am too lightly dressed like a runner and need my leggings to combat the wind and rain squalls which seem to be abiding.  According to my records, I last ran on Friday last week - 8 days ago - when I achieved only 6.3 miles per hour and it hurt.  I thought the lunchtime run was back.  It has continued to evade me all of this week and so I will be no faster. I may not even qualify.  There's no excuses about resting up.  I'm just going to be slow, but dammit, I'll do my best.

But what can I say about this year other than it has been an absolute blast?  A mixed bundle of insignificant results.  23rd in the European tri champs, 13th in an Ironman - and last, 11th in a half Ironman which I enjoyed immensely.  

Since the Legend Half, I have been working on my cycling.  For once, my bike ride was the slowest - 58th in the swim, 60th on the bike and 52nd in the run.  With a 700km mountain cycle ride for my holidays I decided it was time to get ready for the mountain bike and have ridden no other bike since.  

So what can I do to give my fitness a kick in the proverbial for next week?  I've been sneakily dreaming of turbo sessions.  Something that many of my team mates are currently celebrating completing prior to their Ironman races.  Me?  I can't bring myself to get on the thing whilst the weather is good.  Something to do with being a bit old school and considering myself a real cyclist who rides to work regardless and is therefore too tired for turbo at the end of the day.  Something to do with having to tidy up the kitchen before I do turbo.  So I wonder if I'll manage it today.  Whilst I'm sitting on the sofa covered in cat at the moment, it doesn't seem likely but with autumnal weather and those walls outside the back door and the womens' Olympic triathlon on the TV, who knows what might happen.

The Inaugral "Legend" Half Triathlon at the Snowdonia Triathlon Festival

Plas y Brenin National Mountaineering Centre is truly a wonderful place. With an almost perfect view of Snowdon, a bar, restaurant and £70 a night for comfortable beds and hallways decorated with epic images.  Make it the registration, transition and start line for a triathlon and I am SOLD! Right there! Sign me up!

5.30am is never a sociable hour but it's better than 3.30am Iron-o'clock and thanks to Plas y Brenin I had absolutely nowhere to get to except the bottom of our stairs for registration. I then slipped out to the bike shed to number Rosie Red and check the bolts were tight from the headset changed last week.

I got my number on in my room then returned to the bike lot with my kit, sidestepping officials as the bike shed exited straight onto transition. Set up done it was time to get my wetsuit half-on then walk over a small pedestrian bridge for the race briefing at the start.

Wiping the midges off, we all reassured each other of the viability of the task ahead. I squeezed my vest on under my wetsuit to play it safe in 16 degrees water then got myself in at the last minute as usual. I  was pretty proud of myself for making less girlie noises than some of the men then set about trying to keep up with someone,  anyone, during the swim.

Unfortunately most around me seemed to be really poor sighters… or maybe it was just me? I couldn't bring myself to swim in a massive loop just for the benefit of sitting on someone's feet so I stuck to my line and ploughed on alone… aware that there were always people off to my right.  Maybe they were enjoying the benefits of a lighter current nearer the shore but still, I was keeping pace and not getting left behind as I swam my straight line.

The group came together at the first buoy then they looped out again and I continued on my straight path.  I  did start to doubt that I had the energy for two laps but as I reached the end of the first, I still felt good and actually sped up a bit.

The pattern continued until towards the end of the lap when I started to catch up some big guys.  They were a bit of a distraction and started to put me off getting out of the water... or at least it seemed to take longer than necessary.

Eventually I was there.  I hit the lap button at 47 minutes.  EXACTLY the time I had expected for my first lap at Kielder Ironman. Galling but that's low temperatures for you.

The run into transition was horrible under foot with my feet suffering a combination of numbness brought on by extreme pain (or vice versa). Once back at my bike I stood on my neighbour's towel (long since gone) for some respite from the gravel while I managed a pretty decent exchange of shoes (ahhh the relief), addition of a jersey plus pocketed water proof and grabbed food.

TSK was apparently just setting off out of the bike hut with his ride to see me disappear off down the road.

The first half of the ride passed mostly without incident. The pleasant passing of the climb to the top of the Nant Gwynant Pass then the ride down to Beddgelert. The descent where I was glad I had a dry layer on to keep my shoulders warm in the cool shade. It was, after all, still only 8.30 am.  At Kielder I had only just been getting out of the lake.

Here there will be a picture - paid for but not yet delivered

There were some typical Welsh country lanes and then we slithered down to the coast to make our way around the housing and industrial estates on the edge of Portmaddog before the real climbing started.  Thankfully at Tremadoc I found my perfect race loo and nipped  into the pebbledashed luxury public toilets in the car park. Ample bike parking inside, no people so I could keep an eye on Rosie Red through the open door and most importantly, an adequate supply of paper. As soon as I stopped my glasses fogged without the breeze to clear them leading to a slightly blurred and seedy view of the world.

I rode the very steep hill climb out of Tremadoc with my glasses on the end of my nose, glad I didn't have to stop for a train on the crossing half way up.

It had been a quiet and lonely start to the bike with a few swimmers weaker than me passing early on and then no-one to chase.  A few big climbs started to turn things around though.  When I reached the climb around the back of the Slateman quarry I was joined by Nick from Macclesfield.

I caught him on the climb approaching Maentwrog and then he passed me back saying I would catch him when it got steep.

In fact I caught him on the descent on the other side as he stopped to answer the call.

We exchanged places for a while and had a chat going over the next pass through Ffestiniog as he told me that the hard bit was still to come.  This was just after 30 miles and about the first time I saw TSK riding the other way.  TSK insisted that I had done the hard bit but I was less convinced at the time (we still had 530m to go). I was still pleased to have got more mileage in than him. You can't really compare your performance on any one day to a random selection of competitors but husbands make great benchmarks.

Nick promptly left me for dead after that climb. I had him in my sights  for a while and then he disappeared on the lanes approaching  Capel Curig.  Another roadie followed me for a while after he asked what we were racing, he decided my bike was good for a draft into the next town. He turned left as I went right in Bewtsy Coed, wishing me luck for the rest of the day.

One climb to go - a long steep uninspiring open main (for Wales) road. It was  dual carriageway to give trucks a crawler lane. There was insufficient traffic for it to be a problem though and all motorists passed single file. I'd reccied it the night before in the car but I should've realised how hard it would be after 45 miles of riding on the tt bars.

Here there will be another picture, paid for but not yet delivered

For a moment I panicked when I saw a blue track on my garmin, starting to think I had overshot the race HQ but then realised that it was the river way down in the bottom of the valley.

I returned to transition to a spattering of cheers and happy that there were still a few gaps on the bike racks.  I knew I had been slow though and left transition with the stated intention of catching some people up.  TSK was still out on his bike so I stated my intentions to the young man at the water station. I  don't think he was interested.

I took a  backpack with me for the run. I was still in Ironman mode, not sure how warm it would be, so had plenty of water and I wanted a coat in case it got wet and windy. I doubt I was slower for it and was definitely faster for being able to sip constantly from my water instead of gulp from aid stations then run dry until the next one.  It's personal choice and many would disagree with my approach but some of those people are the the ones I pass gulping water at aid stations or suffering cramps from dehydration.

I hadn't really reccied the run and had only taken a cursory glance at the map.  As far as I was concerned it went up and down a valley. The map showed some kind of a  loop at the end but I assumed this was part of the sprint race happening on the same day.

All I knew was we went out of transition and turned right.  This led to  big flight of around 30 steps all the way up to the road. Argh! Down to walking speed already. An enthusiastic marshal cheered me up the steps as I grumbled about the cruel beginning.

Across the road and onto trail proper.

A beautiful open track. Rocky but solid and suitable for trail shoes rather than fell shoes.  I was glad it was dry because my shoes can be a bit slippy in the wet. I was a little disheartened by the absence of any other people in sight for me to catch and was still feeling a little tired from last week's fell race. I  had another short walk to get used to being on my feet up the first short sharp climb and then started jogging.

The route ran on the opposite side of the river Afon Llugwy up to Llyn Ogwyn below Tryfan.  A beautiful looking road on the other side of the river, I kept one eye out for TSK on his way back from his ride but mostly I was looking where I was going, navigating between the rocks, grassy tufts and occasional cow.

After 1 mile I was properly woken up by the first athlete running back down the hill towards me.  I gave him a high 5. Actually a very British, discreet, low 5. And I wished him good luck. He had a remarkable lead, in fact I started to wonder if everyone else had got lost but eventually second place arrived with a group of around 5 behind including the first woman who got a lot of cheers from me.

I counted the rest of the women in until I forgot where I was counting and chose not to give duff information out.

Across open moorland now. I could see a steady stream of runners coming in towards me but still no one going in my direction. Still, the on-comers were giving me plenty of encouragement if they weren't wearing the face of pain too much.

The route undulated a little then rose to the main road at the Lynn Ogwen. The aid station offered me a drink but I thanked them and kept going. On the road I passed Nick from Macclesfield coming the other way so I knew I was getting near to the turn around point. There were now a stream of people I had recognised off the bike.

I was slightly uncomfortable not knowing where the turnaround point was, reminding me that a little knowledge of the route goes a long way - even for events you're just doing for a giggle because you switched your entry from another event only 5 months earlier and you only chose this event only because its monetary value matched that of the event you withdrew from.

At the top of the hill, the road dropped slightly then the course turned into a carpark for the Tryfan tourist path. A marshal was standing on the wall trying to look as bright yellow as possible guiding us around the wall and hoping that we would be able to run around the masses of hill walkers congregating to tackle Wales's Most Impressive (though not biggest) peak.

Around the wall it was time to retrace my steps, slightly alarmed to find there were more people with me in their sights than I had realised.

I took a glance at my watch. It said 1:02! I was on for a sub 2hr half! Hang on, I thought, that would mean it's short. I decided that the race organiser would have some trick up his sleeve. Still, realising that I was running quite well and was now "on the way back" I could start trying properly. If I had no one to chase I could at least race my own half marathon pb.

Damn that end-of-race heel strike

Back past the water station where I saw Rachel. We'd cheered eachother on when I caught her on the bike. She was stopping for a drink and well on her way to completing her first half Ironman.

Across the moor again then starting the descent. The undulations had been imperceptibly gaining height on the way out and now were opened up before me to view.  Away in the distance I could see two targets running the same way as me.

Brakes off I started a downhill run that many a dark peaker would be proud of, driving up the little hill climbs.  At one point I  thought the lady ahead of me had stopped but in fact she was crossing the stile and had stopped at the top to reverse down climb the steps.  I reached they stile, climbed it, hands on top, swung legs through then vaulted onto the ground and got running. I picked her up just before the campsite then had a momentary panic when I couldn't see any signs and didn't know which strip of tarmac to follow.

Then I recognised a tent that I had been admiring on the way out and carried on the right route being reassured soon after by a piece of striped tape tied to a bush.

Onwards to the next victim who I caught just as the course veered off onto a slightly different approach to the 'village' of Plas y Brenin. This was where the organiser was going to make his distance up, I thought.

Serendipity was shining on me.  I passed a guy walking his bike back to the finish.

He looked at me intently and said, 'straight on the road to the centre, don't turn off!'

I wondered what he could mean.

2 minutes later I knew. There were some red arrows from a previous event pointing down a track to the chapel. I did as instructed, stayed on the road and sure enough was directed by marshals back down those steps to what I thought was going to be the finish. Apparently a few other runners had followed the red sign and, on seeing finishing runners on the other side of the field, had ploughed across the field and a wet river crossing, only to be directed back to the centre, through the car park and back on course, one half mile the worse off.

I didn't check my garmin, I was too busy worrying about a last minute sprint  from someone behind me so it was a big surprise whèn I discovered that I couldn't get to the finish and there was a man offering me a drink. 

By this point they must've had a few confused competitors because his answer to my question, 'where do I finish?' Was, 'you've still got a mile and a half to go'.

Ah. That was the end of my ambition for a sub 2 hour half marathon or even to slip in under 2:06, my time in the Sheffield half marathon last year. Still, I had those other people to stay ahead of, could still get a bloody good time for a hilly off road half marathon and I was facing a massive wall of a climb.

Hands on knees and a spot of yogic breathing. 

A woman and her son cheered me on at the top of the climb. I needed it.

Down the hill on a hard packed trail. The pounding descent ricocheting through my knees but there was someone else plodding along in front, having a little walk.  I passed him. A marshal directed me down a hill to 'do a loop' before getting to the finish. Oh my this race is cruel! For every  downhill I knew I would have to come back up but then there was another person to pass.  Yes! 

A line up of cheery athletes out for a recce  for tomorrow's standard distance cheered me on. 'Thanks I really need that' I said, and meant it. They cheered louder.

Past a sign with a U-turn arrow and the word 'Legend' written on it. The marshal was sitting on the gate cheering.

'I don't know about Legend', i said but I do feel dizzy.  I meant with all the twists and turns but he took me a little too literally and jumped to his feet to administer first aid, as I rapidly explained that I was just kidding and did not need rescuing.

Then that hill climb back out.  I had a few comical exchanges with my fellow runners. It seems many of us were oblivious to the little sting in the tail of this race. I was just relieved, despite the pain, that it wasn't going to be a short race.

I cheerfully waved to the marshal I had just passed  minutes earlier,  knowing it really was all downhill to the finish line now.

As I rounded the corner the standard athletes were there again and cheered at me as I whined, it hurts so much. I was trying to stay ahead of runners I knew were on a blinder, like Ashley who was eating up places. Then I saw the finishing arch.  The big numbers counting down.  Was there some imaginary time line to beat? I hadn't even looked up my last time for a half Ironman. I did slide in under 7 hours but with 10 minutes to spare so no need for a sprint and proving just how annoying my 16:30 time was for Ironman but giving me the satisfaction of actually having raced this distance and not just survived it but enjoyed it .

The array of cakes,energy bars, fruit and drinks available was overwhelming and the little girl giving out teeshirts and momentoes (a rather lovely engraved slate coaster) was struggling to get athletes attention. She was a diligent collector of timing chips and very sweet.

To be able to walk from finish line to bike shed then into my shower in my room was pure bliss. Many other athlete tripped over their shoe laces and fell into the bar, finding themselves drinking a pint of Welsh beer and watching tye sun process across the sky in the late afternoon.

Me, I  had a power nap before checking the results on the off chance I had won a prize. There didn't seem to be many fv40s ahead of me but then we are all pretty young-looking as athletes so I had to cope with a fourth place. I  am extremely proud of that for a race that I wasn't taking that seriously 1 month after Ironman and 1 week after a marathon-esque fell race.

Once I had a chance to recover we joined the bar goers for lunch. Overhearing the winning woman talking about a lady who cheered her on who was wearing a rucksac, I mean, what for??? Shrugs, because we can't all be out there for just 5 hours m'dear. Each to their own.

Can you see Snowdon, just over there, not in the distance in the slightest?

It was a weird twist of events that brought me to do a second half Ironman. Impressive since 4 years ago I said I would never do it again. Looking back at the "Day in the Lakes" I thought I was as fit as I would ever be in my life. 2 Ironman events and 4 years later, though still a back marker, I fared so much better and smashed a splitting 1 hr 25 minutes off my previous time.

It seems that I can't wait until next year's season.

Swim: 42:58 (57th) 1.9 km fair waters. Like swimming in well-brewed (cold) tea.
T1: 5:00
Bike: 3:46:10 (60th!) 56.7 mi, 780m climbing
T2: 2:44
Run: 2:15:56 (52nd) 13.6 mi, 462m climbing