Grafham Anglian Water Triathlon 2017 European Triathlon Championships Qualifier

My best result to date in a tri.  When the effects of Alpe d'Huez combined perfectly with a flat, fast course.  It disintegrated quickly into history as my adventures in Penticton, Canada replaced the memories.

It was good for 115% on the ITU Qualifier scale but in retrospect that's not brilliant.  It might still see me in but as it's one week before Alpe d'Huez, might not happen anyway (or at best be inconvenient).  It's good to have options right?

Thoughts on the day:
Swim - Say what now? (awesome!).  Where did it come from?  How can I repeat this next year?

Excellent image from the race photographer

Showing the early signs of athletic palsy

Bike - short, boring but enjoyable flat-out riding.  Having alps in the legs helped with the short climbs.  Would have been faster if I hadn't dropped my chain.

Run - Ow.  Someone collapsed in the heat. Must try harder to get faster times again.

Clearly pleased with myself

Swim: 25:45, 21/31, 107/159, 328/427
T1: 1:48
Bike: 1:09:42 11/31, 61/159, 302/427
T2: 1:23
Run: 50:10 15/31, 85/159, 329/427

Overall: 2:28:50 16/31, 80/159, 160/427

Canada 2017: Day 4 - Riding Into the Smoke

At 9am I left Princeton campsite, joined the highway and cycled down the hill.  After 10 mins I noticed my Garmin telling me I was off course, except the route was just on the other side of the river.  It would join up  "soon", right?

I didn't want to retrace as I was concerned about this cold I'd picked up and went with it for the moment but as the traffic kept coming I longed for that other road.  I checked.  It went on for miles and there were no bridges.

I'd only been riding 15 minutes so I turned around, headed back and justified it with the opportunity to have a second breakfast at a nice-looking cafe in town.

The chocolate croissant was big and the breakfast tea went down with lots of sugar  and two bike packers turned up for a chat - one from Seattle and the other "just finishing off" his Tour Divide South to North ride.

As I struggled to get out the words of a sentence, sputtering out the words over my cold which bit at the back of my throat like a bee-sting, they both nodded and said, "it's something in the air".  I explained my track record of 1 in 1 occurrences of a cold appearing right before an international competition but they both confirmed they were suffering the same condition - "it's the smoke!".

Cue long discussion about how we thought it was over etc. but I set off down the valley again with renewed optimism.  Not for the ride into smoke but for the not being sick part.

The optimism continued as I first followed the trail and then a perfectly surfaced road past some of the most beautiful swim spots I have ever seen.  Campgrounds abounded and kids played and I rolled by, thinking I'd definitely stop for a swim on the way back (note to self: should have sopped because it wasn't nearly as idyllic on the way back).

After not long enough I rejoined the main highway and my joy decreased.  The mumbling of traffic led to the haze of smoke from the wildfires in the interior and the distant peaks gradually turned silver through the haze.  My throat started to itch and I felt the need to somehow protect myself.

The government guideline was to avoid hard physical exercise but I'd been on the road for a few days and all hills were hard by now.  I tried breathing through my nose thinking the nose hairs would filter the particulates but even at an easy gear I couldn't seem to get enough air through my pathetic nasal passages to fuel my muscles.  I tried to breathe out through my mouth to improve flow but I was gradually desiccating, breathing in dry air and breathing out all the moisture.  My head started to sting as I pushed less and less oxygen through the contracted airways until eventually my nose burned intolerably dry and I took my first few tentative mouth-breaths.

Finally relief.

I pulled into Hedley cafe for a rest - a truckstop style caf in a gold mining town where the museum is "temporarily" closed.  Since there was nothing until Keremeos where I would be around 3pm, 11:30 transpired to be lunchtime.  French toast and a plate of chips later and I resumed mouth breathing with sips from my Camelbak, supplemented with ice water.

The route to Keremeos was also supplemented with a few minor (although rewarding) detours off the main road to pass through tiny native villages and then the main crossing over the river via a big red road bridge I had always admired but never crossed when I lived here.  The detour through the fruit trees cheered me up no end, as did the diversion into Keremeos - historically avoided via detour around the "bypass".

The cafe had run out of icecream and soda so my much-anticipated milkshake was downgraded first to fruit soda and then to sprite plus syrup.  Shocking in a town selling fresh fruit from the trees and they still charged me $5.  Added to the list of places NOT to stop on the way back.

When I left town I was pleased to note an alternative organic farm cafe on the way out.  Plan formed.

When I came out, the air felt clearer - or maybe it was the $5 ice cubes.  The first short hill was enough to remind me it wasn't completely clear but I settled back into my routine of going easy on the climbs then standing up on the descents to recover my bruises and let circulation back into my sit bones.  I finally reached the Green Mountain turn off in mid afternoon, having debated this turn all day.

I was looking forward to the picturesque traffic free option but not the climbs, extra distance and lack of anything.  Still, I plunged into instant relief as I realised that the trees which give the mountain its colour and hence its name were filtering out much of the smoke and dryness and the air was relatively normal.

My legs, however were not and as I watched the bear scat roll by I doubted my ability to out sprint a bear, no matter how much adrenaline. I focused on trying not to wobble off the road.

Eventually I passed that familiar turn off to Apex mountain resort, pleased to have avoided the rush hour that would coincide with bumping into my ex-husband (only chance I might see him) and enjoyed the lovely descent through to the reserve.  At one point I thought I'd been sworn at by a motorcyclist which left me dismayed as Canadians tend to respect, not heckle cyclists.  Then I realised he was warning me that the road surface approaching was "feckin awful" and appreciated his words as I skittered across the gravel.

I dropped out at Greenwood forest products completely spent and starving.  The factory was closed and anyway I was heading straight to the donut shop across the road.  Sadly now a Tim Hortons but I could at least get a salad and devour the milkshake I'd been harbouring all day.

For once I shunned the cold, air conditioned indoors and embraced the heat and remaining smoke to enjoy a meal in a familiar environment.  With 8 miles to go it seemed irresponsible to adjust to a different climate.  Besides, even outside was starting to feel "a bit chilly".

I shivered my way back to life and warmed up with a ride along the channel path (still an awful surface) before deciding not to risk the worse lakeshore trail with a fully loaded bike but stick to the highway that I know.

Uphill but at least not as daunting as the precipitous drop to the campsite.  I realised I was going to become familiar with the lakeshore path.

I had no energy left to argue with the campsite steward who stuck me between two roads and the bins.  I tried but sulked off and kept myself to myself.  I spent a good 20 minutes trying to see any flat ground on my pitch then threw up my tent and went to sit in the shower and do my laundry.

I was to suffer this campsite for as little as possible before moving to town.  The lakeshore path was tollerable to ride along and overwhelmingly pleasant to run along.  I hated the campsite but I liked its location.  As soon as I could I moved into town for 1 night then into a hotel before the race.

My deal with Penticton was done by then and my enthusiasm for Canadian lakeshore camping was over.  The Kaleden campsite kept me away from the cryathletes withering around town in self importance and allowed me a quiet swim twice a day away from the crowds of kids but that was it.  I'd never go back there again unless seriously out of season.

Last Big Ride before the Biggie!

I haven’t written about this week’s ride yet.  It was… bloody… brilliant.  The previous week was an exhausting effort, following which I could hardly stand up, never mind do the brick run I had planned – no matter how short a distance.  Part of the problem of course is I hadn’t planned it so it wasn’t an easy undertaking.  Instead of jumping into waiting running shoes, I had flopped into the bath. 

Last weekend I was determined to do my brick run to prove to myself that this running after 3500m of up is even doable.  I recognised that to achieve it I would need to be disciplined and not get caught up in any competitive nonsense with other people.  Instead I had to ride like I was riacing an Ironman and keep something in the bag.

I left home a little bit late because it kept raining.  I eventually committed to a rain coat but left in the damp cool air although relatively rain-free.  I was already bargaining with myself but managed to find the enthusiasm to climb straight back up out of the Rivelin on Hagg Hill, all the way up to the top of Lodge Moor, before diving back into the Mayfield Valley, only to surface again at the Norfolk arms and then I turned out to the Peak. 

I’ll never bore of the road down from Burbage across the front of Stanage and down through the woodlands to Bamford.  A quick switch across the main road then puts me onto the Thornhill Road to Hope without seeing another person this time. 

AND this time the café was open and I actually took the time to eat something before tackling any more climbing.  It was a perfect moment indoors, just settling myself before the next climb ahead.  My only mistake was to eat soup although I did have a chocolate tiffin just to make the time pass a little slower and fill up my belly a little deeper. 

The Edale Road was so much better without noobies to get in my way.  Three lads passed me and I didn’t take up the challenge but did ride past them again when they stopped for a puncture.  They passed me back on the climb up Mam Nick and then I passed them back over the top as the front two stopped to wait for their mate. 

This time there was no debate in my mind about getting extra hill climbing out of Pindale.  I was going to do a distance ride and collect what ever hill climbing happened to come out of it.  I also didn’t want to bash my bits on the offroad section so I could do that brick run.  I turned right instead of left.

I flew by onto the No Car Café road which I covered in its entirety without being caght by the chasing group, despite listening to their incessant chattering all the way along.  At the lights they stopped to chat and decided to ride with me for a little longer although I managed to shoehorn it in there that I was doing a big loop around Buxton and not heading straight home.

Eventually they turned off and I took the road back down to Peak Dale and across onto my new favourite climb – Coombs.  I don’t usually like to repeat routes but I’ve grown so fond of this one during my time training to Alpe d’Huez and it has been particularly rewarding to mould this route into the climbeyest one possible.

Near the top of the climb, I heard a car engine approaching but without menace.  I rode as sturdily and quickly (not very) as I could then pulled over to let the car pass.  A resounding applause and cheering raised from inside the car – mother and daughter shouting encouragement out the window at me as I climbed the hill.  I rode a little faster.

They turned right – the only legitimate route for cars.  I turned left and, scattering a duke of Edinburgh group, rolled along the only bit of off road for today.  It wasn’t much but the extra moisture from the earlier rain left me wondering just whether my road tyres would hold.  Thankfully they did and I made it to the top in one piece. 

Cue the crossing to the Goyt Valley and Errwood Reservoir. After the 18% descent and all the other riding I’d done I felt a little sketchy but I was strong and rode straight past the ice cream van this time.  The valley was pure bliss and I was passed by only one car and one rider who surged past me and on into the rest of his 60’s.

Over the Cat n Fiddle road and dropping down Axe Edge back onto familiar territory and into Miller’s Dale.

This time I remembered to take the turning up the hill to climb back out of the Dale instead of getting stuck on a hill climb on the main road.  It was a pleasure to be away from the traffic but it was also a bugger of a hill.  Thankfully shaded, it shot up a 1:4 for 100m before easing off into two switchbacks which kicked me out on the flat moor.  I eventually dropped back down to Tideswell before, much to my dismay, climbing straight back up the hill again (same one I did last week now) and regaining the moor. 

I then dropped back down into Bradwell where I considered ice cream but continued regardless into the Hope Valley.  Main roads weren’t appealing again, particularly since there were traffic lights holding traffic up so I retraced my steps through Thornhill and climbed up to the Bamford Road where I instantly felt completely exhausted.  Ah, the bonk.

I nearly rode past the Yorkshire Bridge Inn, thinking it to be too posh for sweaty cyclists but as I rode by the beer garden I realised the opposite was true and retraced my steps to lock up and wobble to the bar which wasn’t far.  I got a bench to myself for my pint of coke and waited patiently but not for too long for my baked potato.  Oh the saviour of baked potato!

It was a little worrying that I was that wasted when I arrived at the pub – I’d drunk more this time, even though it was cooler but I had dressed warm in my rain coat so had probably sweated just as much (good practice for hot riding).  It really was the calories and I need to be mindful to plan them properly on raceday.

Feeling fully fuelled, I found the energy to climb back over the A57 in one piece and actually with some grace.  As I watched the hill climb rise above 2670m, I realised there was a remote chance that I’d get somewhere closer to 3000m than I’d ever imagined. I threw the bike up to Rodside and rode the steep climb there without incident before enjoying the descent all the way back to Stannington.  There’s a short climb there before the drop to the bottom of the Rivelin Valley.  2800m on the clock!

By the time I rocked into the house I was actually fucking fine!

This time I’d planned my run.  I walked into the lounge, stripped all soggy wet cycling clothes into a heap on the sofa and somehow struggled my sweaty body into my running kit (I was determined to give running in skins a go since they’d done such a great job on the Kielder Ironman). 

I told TSK I’d be an hour – I felt OK.  Then I qualified it and said I might be half an hour – giving myself an out if I felt rubbish.  I’d just do 10k and maybe 5 if I felt bad.

I ran out the door.  I ran up the hill.  I ran along the rough path, I just kept running except for a tiny stretch of steep.  I ran all the way to the stairs above the A57 then descended to the bottom of the valley and retraced all the way along the bottom of the valley to the bridge near my house.  I even jogged part way up until I declared it silly and then walked.  It wasn’t quite 10km but I don’t quite care.  I’d proved to myself that I can ride 83 miles and climb a shit load and then go for a run which kind of feels OK.

Bravery is presently defined as stepping outside your comfort zone in July

I decided to swim in a shorty wetsuit without sleeves today. More accurately, this morning as I left the house in warm air, casting my full wetsuit to one side with gay abandon. Only this evening as I left work in a stiff breeze and pouring rain did I question my decision.

Still, the whole point was to adapt to mountain lake temperature and get my distance in where possible. At least the lake will be warm.

It was. 20 degrees warm but I carefully folded my dryrobe on the shore to keep the towelling dry then shivered my way into the water, chatting to a friend as I went.

I had to make my excuses and set off for I knew my time was limited by my body's tendency to lose core heat.

A brief stop on the first lap might have jeopardised my distance swim but it was worth it to spend time in the water metres from the crested grebe I have never seen there before.

Lap 1 still dispensed with on time and I started lap 2 confidently but my technique started to fade, cramp sneaked under my chin and I started to shiver again. Oh well.

I kept going to the end of my loop, resisting the urge to take the short cut. Sure I was panicked because I was running out of energy but I wasn't going to shorten my short option. No way!

Needless to say, I survived. I wasn't shivering too badly when I got out and the dry robe put paid to much more discomfort.

Maybe I didn't do my distance but the adaptation to the cold felt much *much* more important.

I am looking forward to stretching it next time I swim.

Big Peak, Big Learning

It's been a while since I've done long long hilly rides but I was quite looking forward to my final Peak ride before Alpe d'Huez Triathlon in 2 weeks time.  I plotted myself a Peak District ride which was 80 miles based on last week's ride (70 miles) plus a variation around Buxton which would add another 300m to the total climb and 10 miles to the distance.  Whether an extra 10 miles for 300 m was worth it was a moot point since it took me into the Goyt Valley which I have been wanting to ride to for some time.  It always seems so far away though.  Like when I get to Chapel en le Frith I am crossing a border into my childhood training grounds and therefore it's a step too far - like I'm closer to my old home than my current home.

Anyway, I was confident I could push 80 miles and happy with the test of 2300m.

The first thing I did was drop into the Rivelin Valley below my house and then climb straight back out again up the steepest climb I know - Hagg Hill.  Over the top and back down into Hathersage via Stannage Edge.  Two couples passed me - both mere whippets in age.

At the bottom I caught up 5 riders crossing the main road to the back route to Hope.  I instantly got frustrated as I sat on the brakes behind them until I could surge ahead and get going again.  Two of the guys came back past me and I expected to see them some time later waiting for their friends.  Sure enough, they were waiting at a junction and I rode silently on.

In Hope I stopped in at the adventure cafe but it was closed for the village carnival so no lunch for me there then.  I'd get something after Mam Nick.  I continued on, now behind this group again, with them asking if I had been bitten on the narrow road.  They don't like the horse flies down there.  Oh well, suits me.  I stayed on the front of their group this time, knowing that I didn't want to sit on the brakes around the S-bend bridge or through the bends in the hamlets along this road.  Again, the same men came past me then sat up and rode at exactly my speed for the rest of the straight.

I put some effort in here and got around them before the next set of S-bends.  They sat on and then rode around me before sitting up for the straight.  I tried my best to get around them before the turn up onto Mam Nick but one of them came by me then sat on his brakes as we passed the second young couple to pass me earlier.  I got stuck behind him around the corner and under the bridge.  FFS!

Mam Nick was enjoyable, despite my deflated state.  It took until the last steep section for the young couple to catch me up and they weren't enjoying themselves nearly as much as me so I win.

Needless to say, I was knackered by the time I got to the top of Mam Nick.  The old dudes were sat there, waiting for their friends and planning to return to the bottom before going to Bradwell. OOoooooo.

Still, I felt OK so decided to boot in some extra climbing by taking a detour down Whinnats and up Pindale.  Got cut up by a Land Rover on the approach then sat on my brakes behind him all the way down the hill before he turned off into the car park.  Still, I cleared Castleton without killing any tourists and shot off up Pindale, happy to finally be away from the Honeypot.

It occurred to me that the Pindale road diverges from my pre-ordained route and i realised the only way back to it was to retrace my steps and re-climb Whinatts or use the Dirtlow Road track to access the A625 to Chapel again.  I opted for the second since I thought the first option might jeapordise the rest of my day.

Still, 100m were climbed over 2 miles on rough, loose stones with my 100psi road slicks bouncing all over the show.  It did eventually improve to gravel and then tarmac after I'd passed a few duke of edinburgh groups who opted to queue to climb stiles instead of open gates for me - and them.  Finally I was back en route and crossing over towards Peak Forest.

At Doveholes I started my traverse towards Chapel en le Frith.  First climbing the hill I so enjoyed last Monday, with crags above and no room for more than one vehicle on the lane.  This time I recognised it as Coombs, enhanced by the grey beardy men walking back to their cars with ropes... I remember this place...

Down the other side towards my Buxton loop now but with a massive hill climb to get over to the section I had been looking forwards to.   The only vehicle I met was a Derbyshire Outdoors bus driven by a lovely lady towing a trailer.  She not only gave me room to pass but encouragement.  By the time I got to the top of the hill I let out a huge bellow of relief.  I was so close to having to get off and walk with a sustained grade of over 12% for half a mile and up to 22%.

My Garmin then mixed things up by throwing me down another off-road lane.  Better than the last one but still sketchy in between the 10 inch wide slither of tarmac down the centre of the lane.

I was getting tired as I climbed up to the Buxton Road and zoomed out my Garmin to see just what this loop was.  The thought of dropping into the Goyt valley and having to climb back out again started to fill me with dread.  So much easier to turn left into Buxton and have some lunch and head home but what climbing and what solitude would I miss out on?  After a substantial wobble in determination, I turned right and plummeted into the Goyt Valley.  Litterally, down a 10% slope.

At the bottom I was relieved to find myself at Errwood Reservoir.  At least I now knew the climb out was long but steady, no surprising steeps.  Also, in at 1:30 pm and still not having eaten any real food, there was bound to be an icecream van somewhere.

Sure enough, I indulged in a mint Festival and sitting on the wall staring at the reservoir for 10 minutes.

The rest of the climb was dispensed with including encouragement from a bloke passing and I turned onto a tiny lane that I didn't even realise existed before today which would complete my Buxton circuit, dropping me out onto more familiar teritory around the back of the quarries and into Earl Sterndale where, despite my lack of lunch, I decided that the Quarryman's pub wasn't going to be my best choice for a lunch stop.  Thankfully, just on the edge of Moneyash, the Royal Oak provided me with a beer garden next to the road and easy access to a bench to lock my bike up and eat.  I lay on the grass to wait for my food and chatted to some leisure bikers who'd been bashing the railway trails.

It was 4:30pm.  Late lunch indeed.

With heavy legs, I had the luxury of Flag, Taddington and Priestcliffe, descending into Millers Dale where I finally had to pick up my feet and start climbing out again.  I gave myself until Tideswell before tackling the monster climb up to Wheeston (which had been earlier on my route but I had missed, getting caught up in the down hilling).  It was brutal to start at 10-12% but then pretty much rolled me over the tops before the thrilling descent into Bradwell, hopefully a good 4 hours after my earlier companions had been there.

Finally, I was somewhere familiar and I only had one big hill in between me and home.  Which way to go?  In the end I opted for the Ringinglow Road direct since I feel it's the most consistent and because I haven't yet used it in my hill climb campaigns.  I started to experience a certain consistency with my climbing legs.  There was a dull ache throughout my body just from riding that long and that hard and there were the pains associated with being in the saddle - sores and tight shoulders but my climbing legs did just keep delivering.  Sure I wasn't battling up hills like I had been in the morning but I wasn't just surviving them either.  When I stood on the pedals to climb, climbing still happened and it happened quite well.  The hard part became sitting down and I vowed no more long rides without my Rapha shorts.  For all the bling, they do their job.

And finally, the last climb to my house dispensed with, I cruised through Crookes and into Walkley feeling like I'd achieved the impossible... but I still have the impossible to go.  In two weeks time, I have to put it together with a half marathon and yesterday I felt like there was little possibility of me running anywhere - never mind a half marathon.  I got in and sat down and then I made a protein shake and stumbled to the bath and then I rubbed in after-sun and ate my dinner and fell asleep in front of the tour.

Regardless of how I feel yesterday, I'm thankful to the Alpe of having pushed me back into the world of real cycling.  It has to be simply years since I have done a hilly route like that.  Wild Wales Challenge?  Congleton Classic?  All around 2008? and I did those slowly and without form.  There were bits of this ride that I actually raced, bits that I sprinted up.  There were climbs that pushed me to my limits and climbs that I enjoyed immensely.

There was absolutely no chance of me going for a brick run after and I felt a little crushed but rather than feeling worried about the race, I realised I had some serious learning to make about today.

As a ride, I rode it as a single session.  I pushed myself, knowing that it was my last chance to get a good bike done.  It's difficult to mimic the Alps in the Peak district, you end up chasing climbs doing so many miles... and I'm not into laps or reps.  I hit mile 70 (race distance) with 2000m under my belt.  On race day, I'll have done an extra 1500m in a similar distance but I will have had long rests in between each climbing segment and the number of off-the-scale steepnesses is vastly reduced (I had to re-scale yesterday's map as it includes the 30% Hagg Hill and 22% grade out of Coombs).

Alpe d'Huez at the top, Peak climbs at the bottom.  The circled sections are my rests.

I learned that I only got through my bottle after 50 miles but then the temperature yesterday was only 20-22 (occasionally 26) degrees with a slight breeze to cool me down.  If it's hot at the Alpe I'll be using water to tip over my head as well as drink.

I learned that I can not do this on bars and gels alone and I will be making use of the aid stations and personal nutrition en route .  This is likely to include some jerky, parmesan (god love TNR) and peanut butter sarnies (though I don't like to rely too much on personal nutrition drops in case they get lost, I'll have to make do with whatever's on offer at the aid stations instead).

I realised I need a plan and one that I can and will stick to.  It's easy to say that I won't race people and will stick to my own pace on the day but that's not necessarily true as I have a tendency to get swept up in the moment since I'm so competitive.

I remind myself that today I was riding with race-surplus: tools, lock, keys, wallet, phone.  I will still have my jacket with me on race day... just in case!

My Peak ride was proof of what goes wrong when I ride it too fast.  What I need to do now is come up with the solution... and use my Peak weeks to prove that solution (ie. actually manage a brick run).  I also need a coping mechanism to see me through that run but make sure I meet the cut-offs at the same time.

Today, I am resting.  I may do some shopping and then, maybe tomorrow, I am going to waddle around my half marathon run and find out some more information.

Ripon Triathlon

Plan:
Swim: 31
Bike: 1:13 20.5 mph
Run: 49 7.3 mph

Would have qualified me in St Neots last year... so let's see how we do.

Actual
Swim: 31:15 619/1014, 154/298, 25/55
T1: 1:36
Bike: 1:16:21 607/1014, 107/298, 18/55
T2: 1:14
Run: 50:56 616/1014, 136/298, 23/55

Overall 2:41:21 591/1014, 124/298, 18/55 118.5%

Normal performance has been resumed on the bike.

Initially I had been disappointed with this race.

The swim went really well.  I got on feet and then I passed those people and sprinted out and caught some more.  I stayed with those feet and as the group shrank, I was still there.  We went around the buoys at the end and despite feeling a little tired, I also felt like I could keep going at the same speed to the end so I stayed with those feet.  I felt like I could pass these people so I started drawing alongside a hip but then the space between two people closed and I was pushed out, falling back to sit on feet for a little longer. This happened several times until I learned to stop expecting to pass and just freewheeled in (with effort).  I exited the water exactly as planned - despite cramp in the first 100m caused by a clash of people during weed-swimming.

Transition went remarkably well - it's so much easier when there's no pressure of the cold.  You don't have to remember to dress in the right order because there's no dressing to be done.  I did remember to leave my goggles on until my wetsuit top was off though.

The bike course started well.  This time I remembered to give myself a target speed to stick to.  At Chester I was trying to achieve 18mph but given the flat course and the leg strength training I have been doing I went for an optimistic 20.5mph.  This was based on my Bala speed at the height of last summer.

I was averaging 20.7 once I figured out which Garmin to look at which was excellent but tough to maintain.  Still, I tried.  What more could one ask for other than the perfect race.  The cross wind was a bit of a pain and I though I might have had a little headwind but no, when I reached the turnaround point I realised I had 12.5 miles of headwind riding to do.

I passed a small group (actually, a large group) who had crashed on impact with a car.  One rider (not sure if racing or just a passing cyclist) was directing traffic.  Either way - what a kind man.  5 or so were waiting for ambulance attention.  I hoped everyone was OK and carried on.  They seemed well looked after.

The final hillock before the last descent was the windiest and at one point I was on the tri bars, bum barely on the saddle and going at maximum effort to achieve 9.9 mph.  Ow.  Just ow.

I guess I had a lucky run at the route.  Others reported sitting on the brakes but I was just off pace enough to avoid any tight spaces and glided through all but one of the roundabouts, got a good run up at the finishing chute and ran into transition without too much inconvenience.

I was 2-3 minutes slower than my planned time which I was disappointed with but given the conditions, I did well compared to many others who just sat the wind out rather than pushing into it.

The run was a different kettle of fish.  I can't say I wasn't trying but nothing that I did could lift my speed above 6.9 miles per hour... and I had been aiming for 7.3.

So obviously struggling in the first 200m

I spent the whole thing looking at my watch and trying to think of things to motivate myself.  The live music (complete with acoustic guitar and amp) and the water spray hose momentarily increased my speed but I was just being passed the whole time.  My legs didn't feel empty they just felt sore and demolished.  As I approached the finish line, I lady came by and said, "Don't worry, different age group to you".  I looked at her leg, where a stout "I" was printed in neat writing.  She was 5 years older than me and I should have been kicking her ass.

No one else was around as I pushed my sorry ass over the finish line.

Looking only slightly more like a runner.

Later I take some positives from this.  My race was still good enough to qualify for Europeans (had it been a euro's qualifier), even if I didn't get a world's place (which I'm not bothered about really because it clashes with TNR).  I put 1 minute into another Yorkshire competitor who I have never met but her name always stands out as beating me by quite some margin (Claire Smith, but not THEE Claire Smith).  I didn't foresee the windy ride and so pretty much nailed the predictions on 2 of my three disciplines and these are areas where I thought I'd get close to my best time.  I knew I had to do more running and my run proved it.  I don't seem to have demolished myself too badly and am looking forwards to doing all other races this season on my other bike.

Mostly, I enjoyed hanging out with Sarah Harrison who won our age group cat and having a good gossip about the whole AG process and qualifying and she's given me the impetus to stand up and do some more fast tri's in the UK rather than ploughing so much effort into the international scene.  I'll still enjoy Pentincton and look forwards to Estonia next year if my legs will carry me there but I think there's a point that national championships races are far more exiting and far more challenging at AG level than Euro and Worlds races where money and time to travel count for as much as athletic ability.

Ripon wasn't my kind of course, race or venue.  With TSK getting a cold, we missed out on the social aspect so music till 10pm just kept us awake, the showers were cold at the campsite and it took us an extra hour to leave the campsite the next day due to marshals who didn't know whether they were going to close the course or not.  Camping 1m from other peoples kids wasn't really our bag so in spite of this being a club favourite, I doubt I'll be back there.  I'm looking forwards to tougher races next year with a few pokey hilly halfs on the cards.  Watch this space bitches!

More big, bigger

On Friday, TSK had the day off to go to Shennington.  I, on the other hand, worked and then loaded the car.  In this mismatch, my sleeping bag and cycling shoes stayed in Sheffield whilst I packed a bike, helmet and Garmin route that took me 4 hours to plot into our car.  I needed to wind down and eat after all that and then ETA'd at Shennington at 23:30.

Fortunately, my ride was saved by a shoe loan from a mate but cleats will be cleats and by 12 miles I needed to pop into a bike shop for a fresh pair.  My own shoes are on their last legs so no biggie... in fact, they were a little bit small so more grinning and bearing it.

This ride didn't feel to be going well.  I had a heavy bag on, a lock, oh, and my mate's shoes hanging off the back of my saddle.  Every time I reached a junction I felt like turning back.  100 miles with a lot of climbing and a fair ammount of discomfort was not appealing.  My heart wasn't in it but every time I wavered, something said, "no, I want to keep going".  So I kept going.  I ate an energy bar as I started to get a bit bonky and then, with an absence of cafés, finally flopped into the first pub I found serving food.

I upgraded the only salad on the menu from starter to main course.  Was asked if I wanted twice as much.  Since I didn't know how much was much and couldn't be arsed explaining / debating, I just responded yes and hoped they wouldn't now charge me £15 for a salad.  He muttered something about only charging me £12... thank god.

Doubling the size of one leaf of iceberg lettuce didn't seem possible but at least they gave me one massive whole piece of smoked salmon - which I assume would otherwise have been artistically shredded into my iceberg leaf.  At least the apple juice was nice.

I set off again, toes becoming more crushed.  After a few more steeply rolling hills, and one more attempt to persuade myself to keep going, I realised I didn't want to keep going so I turned back and started to roll back to base.  45 miles had passed and my plotted route still seemed to require an extra 30 miles or more.  I started to doubt the validity of my route marking.

After 50 miles I gave up on my left new shoe and instead opted for riding in odd shoes to give the toes on my right foot a break.

I still managed a substantial loop to join my in-bound route and avoid several main roads.  I topped it up with a climb up Tysoe Road's 16% climb.  Just enough time for a wash before dinner with Dan and Bex.

70 miles 1000m climbing.

Despite being up at 4am to serve pancakes to starving drivers, we packed up, got home and went to bed to refresh ourselves for Monday morning.  I had done not much with Sunday so felt fully rested for my "recovery" day off work.  So I went out for a ride (naturally).

Once the laundry was on, I had so much time on my hands!  I had to wait until traffic died down.

I set off up the hill for a change and to get warm because it was a little overcast.  Suddenly I was taking different routes out of town because I no longer minded the hills.  I rode fluently over to the Norfolk Arms then turned right for once and dropped down under Stanage.  Stopped for a quick wee in the public toilets (luxury) then continued down to Bamford, crossed the main road and took the back lanes to Hope and the Adventure café for lunch.  What luxury!  Hardly anyone on the roads.

Along the Edale valley and up Mam Nick - all to myself then along Rushup Edge past the NoCar Café and through the lanes to Peak Dale, Dove Holes and Chapen en le Frith via a tiny road where I had to wait whilst a policeman guided a land rover + trailer past a coach that had somehow got himself stuck up there.  The other side of the hill led me down a 1:3 descent with hairpins which I didn't know existed, never mind imagined a coach would ever get down.  Cue Garmin - not sure where I was or the best way to get home.

I was on the edge of Chapel so I rode through Chinley on back-lanes with the intention of joining the A614 to Glossop for a nice ride home over the Snake Pass.  Instead I found myself riding 80 ft underneath the A614 so threw my bike down some even narrower lanes and along a short bridleway (this is why I only ride 'cross bikes) before joining another lane that spat me out on the village roads the other side of the A614 before eventually rejoining it.

I rode all of 4 miles on it before finding another lane which dropped sharply into Hayfield - would be an excellent climb going the other way!

Finally I arrived in Glossop and went to Neros for a second lunch sandwich and smoothie... still resisting the coffee.  The great thing about Glossop Nero is you pay less for a take-out then sit on the bench outside where your bike is locked and watch the kids playing in the flowers in the park.  I talked to an old lady sat next to me whose daughter, it turns out, lives on the street next to mine.

To avoid rushour traffic, I stopped trying to give myself brain freeze with the smoothie and instead poured the leftovers into my bottle and set off over the hill.  The traffic was light and my only disruptions were saying hello to a couple of ignorant whippets on bikes riding with headphones in so loud I could hear the music.  Sorry your pro training is so boring guys but manners costs nothing.  Back to my own world.

Not sure why I put my coat on coming down the other side because the breeze wasn't that bad.  Still, I enjoyed stopping at the Ladybower car park to remove it, catch my breath and head off again up that one last climb...  or so I thought.

When I got to the top of Rodside, I couldn't resist but turn on to the steep summit switchbacks to lift myself up above the traffic and roll back along the spine road that avoids the busy A57.  So glad I did.  I felt like I owned the road.

After dropping back into my own valley I soon felt the need to leave the traffic behind me again and challenged myself to one last climb - the 1:3 Hagg Hill.  I had to dig deep near the top and when beeped at by an approaching car, treated him to a mouthful of "Idon'tgiveashit" which was spat incredibly loudly and coherently given my situation.

73 miles 2100m climbing.  Fun factor:15!

Last week needs a mention

Last week was the week I suddenly decided I should do something different with my life.  I needed to get out of the habit of working too late again and start training for Alpe d'Huez before I ran out of time.  Unfortunately someone invited me for an interview on Wednesday so I had to prepare for it, look like I was still doing my job and actually do it.  It meant I didn't get in my second swim of the week and I still didn't get to do a mid week long ride.

On the other hand, I did manage a 13km lunchtime run including new explorations into Rotherham and I added in a second short run just to stay on my toes the day after along with two morning yoga sessions.  One of those made me miss a planned meeting but I was only going to save face anyway.

So I had to make up for it at the weekend, except I was going to my nephew's 18th Birthday party and had to drive to Guildford.  We weren't organised on Friday and it took most of the evening to wait out bad traffic, do some shopping and oh have dinner whilst post-apocalyptic M1 accident traffic cleared. We drove down on Saturday and I frustratedly sat on the M25 for over 2 hours.  I took my wetsuit just in case but didn't manage to swim.

We arrived at my mum in laws at 12:30 and I dropped all protocol and floated the idea of a ride early.  Having explained that I needed to get a 65 mile ride in for training, I was asked to be home by 7pm for dinner.  Excellent, a target.  Not one I thought I would make but I decided to try my best.

After coffee, TSK turned for home, still suffering the after-effects of our illness.  I continued, feeling sprightly.  I did this ride before but the wrong way around so I expected to hit the hills early.  In fact, I hit them just before half way so no real gain.  Still, it was 28 degrees and I still felt good, although slightly worried about my hands as I'd come away without gloves and every time I moved my grip on the bars, the tape tore at my skin in a way that was going to lead to blisters.  Still, I knew there was a friendly bike shop at Liphook where I could buy some - especially since I didn't have my lock and I knew they love people to just walk in off the street with their bikes.  These guys saved my bacon last time I was here by selling me food when I really needed it and went out riding without a lock.

Sure as anything they were open and not only had gloves but good Giro ones in my size.  I enthusiastically bought a red pair to match my STC and GB kit and carried on with my last 35 miles, leaving a queue of people out the door.

I pretty much raced the last 35 miles, calculating that if I kept pace I'd rock in around 6:30 and expecting to slow down but I didn't.  If anything I sped up and, although I managed to stave off eating a gel or a bar, rolled a little bonked into my inlaws at 6:40 pm with enough time to have a shower, even after I had laid on my back inhaling water for 10 minutes, fighting off the urge to accept the proffered beer until I had rehydrated on something healthier.

I even slept well through a hot night in a tent until awoken by neighbouring partiers at 3am whereby we retreated into the dining room with all the doors open and I continued to sleep fitfully with a big ginger cat on my lap.

Sunday dawned just as sunny so we swiftly inhaled a small breakfast then set off for our run.  After only 18 minutes I was instructed to turn back for start of the birthday party.  Nooo! I was just getting going!  Oh well, I made up for it by running fast (I finally found my legs somewhere in the deep grass) all the way back to the house.  More lying around, stretching, waiting for TSK to shower then a cold shower to me whilst attempting to pour my pink body attractively into civilian clothes for the short ride over to my sister in law's.

Our boy looked suitably pleased with his NorthFace flexible windproof that we brought him for scouting purposes - even if it wasn't suitable for the current climate - and I'm sure it will serve him well as a winter coat when he goes to uni in Brighton (as he is bright and I am sure he will get the grades he wants).

It was finally time to calm down and we spent the day in the sunshine and shade, eating and talking and building lego.  After 6pm I headed home to mummy and daddy's and ate a menial dinner since we were so stuffed from earlier antics.

A good rest day of driving home after a meeting in Guildford on Monday put me in excellent form for a second attempt at my long run on Monday evening so 16kms were dispensed with.  Not easily for it was still hot and 10 miles is a long way without a drink - although there was paddling.  It hurt at the time but the next day I was recovered enough for more yoga and my distance swim last night.

It took me 55 minutes but after the week I have had I can hardly complain that it was slow.  I enjoyed it all - clear water, warm enough to not worry and no need for showering straight away.  I hardly needed to use the changing rooms but for a cloudy overcast sky and a slight breeze.

I feel back on track.  I feel like I can make this now.  I feel like priorities have aligned and then the solstice came and I sat awake until 3am, buzzing with the joys of summertime - literally, my heart has not dropped below 61 all night.  I took the opportunity to line up ducks and checked that my bike bag would be allowed on my Air Canada flight and invested in the light weight tent I have been promising myself for oh so long.  I simply hope the excitement about getting it does not last as long as the 2 weeks it may take to arrive.  I can't cope with this much lack of sleep.

Chester Triathlon 2017

Prologue: if you're looking for Chester Race Report, scroll forwards to... "Anyway, I digress"

I really hate it when a good race gets spoiled by sickness afterwards.

I didn't have much to say about the Chester Tri.  It was exactly what I wanted after I crashed in it in 2015... it was uneventful.

I swum.  I got my clothes off in the right order this time.
I biked - without crashing.
I ran as fast as I could which turned out to be 2 minutes faster than 2015's best on this course.

My post-race analysis is cathartic.  Sometimes a way to put down the excitement of the day.  In this one, it's not so much inwardly gazing as analytical.  I thought I'd plateau'd in performance and training enthusiasm but my post-race analysis this time is helping me draw out learning experiences and identify the sources of my disappointment and is fuelling my lust for improvement.  It's going to be a challenge to execute a change before my next big race at the end of July and even greater a challenge to remember them for next season but I'm going to set myself the target to do that.

Unfortunately all the excitement came on Tuesday.  Having drunk a protein shake that had been a few days in the fridge, I threw up the entire week's food.

I took Wednesday off work and then, feeling better on Thursday, cycled to work and back, via the polling station.  I should have known something was wrong when I made it a third of the way through the car park before realising I was on my bike, not in the car and retraced my steps to the bike shed.

It was a struggle to get myself up the hill coming home so on Friday I drove to work and slouched in my chair all day, pretending I didn't exist before leaving at 4pm to go back to bed.  That's when the rest of the illness caught up with me and I drained everything else I had eaten in the rest of the week down the loo.

I have spent the remainder of the weekend recuperating, eating cream crackers and drinking herbal tea and mostly stewing in the fact that I should be out there preparing for the most expensive triathlon I have ever done yet.

The two iron man events I chose have been relatively cheap.  Lisbon Standard was the most expensive so far with a Euro's entry fee and last-minute flights and a cheap hotel in the business district.

Never mind the race fee for Alpe d'Huez (which I managed to buy when the pound was at it's weakest - I think that was a knee jerk reaction to Brexit), the ferry for Alpe d'Huez has cost me the equivalent of an Ironman race fee - and all so I can sleep through the 5-or so hours it would take me to drive to Dover-Calais Ferry (and back again).  Instead I sail from 'Ull to Zeebrugge and then drive to the Alp in almost the time it would take me to do the Dover run... and I get a pleasant overnight stop on the way in a bijoux french Ferme or luxury Restop campground (only fate can tell).

Penticton Duathlon World Champs may be more expensive - but that's a month later so it doesn't count.

Chester on the other hand, was an average price and accommodation was sourced via the Caravan and Camping Club website.  After last time's disappointing pitch at the Delamere forest site (not at all forested) alongside a straight B-road filled with midnight boy-racers screaming up and down the road, we found this little gem.

Anyway, I digress

Swim

In my following of Kelly D O'Mara on the interwebs I have learned that I really shouldn't have taken my goggles and hat off before trying to get my wetsuit off... as clearly demonstrated by this photo.

but look at the crowds of people spectating in the background

34 minutes for the swim.  My PB on this course is 28:29 in a year when I was trying especially hard to improve my swim.  It's a shame it has taken me 2 years to vindicate this approach to swimming so maybe, yes, I will spend a bit more time in a wetsuit.

Otherwise my transition was OK although I did bother to put on a jersey which I was glad of on the windier parts of the bike.  I laughed in the face of fate by not bothering with gloves again.  I jumped on to my bike across the mount line, just as someone else plopped to the floor in a writhing mess (he ran out of momentum with both feet clipped in).  I left a cheering TSK to help pick the other bloke up.

Bike

I failed to crash on cobble corner and then just settled in to my ride, with nothing more on my mind than where the hell were my sunglasses?  Oh well... squinting will have to do.

I was really glad I'd gone out the day before as I felt well settled in to my riding position.  I spent most of the ride balancing on the edge of, "Go faster / Can I keep this up till the end and still do a 10km run?".  I probably erred on the side of the latter.

With 10km to go it turned to, "Can I beat my pb of 1:19?" (in 2010).  I admit I only had a plan for that time, I didn't work out a pacing strategy to meet it and that is probably the source of the failure to do so.  It's hard to tell for sure as all the "climbs" are at the beginning of the course and the tail wind was at the end of the course but my time for the first 10 miles was 35 minutes; 29.5 minutes for the second 10 miles and just under 15 minutes for the last 4.5 miles.  It felt like a negative split and not just because of the inclines.

Last year I only did 1:26 because of the crash.  It was a good job I had that target to chase because I came in at 1:19:50 and if I hadn't have pushed it then I would have been really fed up with myself.  As it is, I'm still just mildly disappointed.

My bike's supposed to be the strong bit and I have abandoned it a bit.  I admit it.  There's nothing else to say but this race was a good arse kicking.  It was the B minus again.

I passed a few into transition in my race to hit that 1:19 and jumped off the bike as I hit the line then disgruntled someone having a nice walk with his bike as I called politely to pass on the right.  You can't please all of the people all of the time.

Remembered to take the helmet off (yes!).  Next bit of learning: after struggling to run without  socks at Bala, I opted for socks here but the tiny ones with no ankle.  Massive improvement! No blisters and without the time spent trying to feed my slightly damp, senseless toes down a long tube of tech fabric, still a fast transition.  Didn't bother doing the shoes up (didn't seem to matter, see above reference to numb feet).

I grabbed a few gels... Eugh! That one wasn't mine and it was open... and now all over my hand.  Dilligently under the eyes of the BT official, I returned it to its rightful place and resumed running.

Run

Felt good joining the run.  I'm getting the hang of hitting high speeds coming out of transition.  It also helped that after 100m, you're joining faster racers who are already on their later laps so not only are they faster, they're also into their stride.

After a short period of exuberance I checked my speed and was hitting 7.8mph.

Well, that's not right hey, so I backed it off and took a drink of crisp fresh water.  I didn't want to be wasting bottles so I didn't take any more after the first one that I ditched 7/8ths full.  Time to check my competition.

My aim was set on beating a woman wearing a GB suit whose name was Priscilla (this would have been her surname).  In retrospect she may not have been competing for an Age Group place so she may not have been important.

She may not have been on my lap or in my age group (at the moment I am about to move up so it's difficult for me to race and remember what age group I'm in).

However, it also appears from the results that she didn't even exist and she was merely a figment of my imagination.  I don't mind her though because she made me run faster. At first I was satisfied that I was gaining on her (I clearly saw her twice), then I was satisfied I had left her behind - I didn't see her going the other way on the out and back.  Then I ran faster to put more time between us.  She truly was a great imaginary friend.

Bits of me hurt that shouldn't - hips that I've been having problems with for a while.  I loosened my muscles off and moved around more whilst I ran.  I think I've been holding too much tension whilst running and this seemed to work so more lessons learned.

Otherwise, there's nothing I could have done better on the run.  I went as fast as I could for as long as it took and as I ran to the line, I was going flat out.  Someone passed me - Gemma Collings - and there was absolutely nothing I could do to answer her but that's OK because she was 15 minutes ahead of me in a different start wave and a different age category.  She was a good test for me though.  Nope, nothing left.  I was glad it was done.

Swim: 34:23, 41/47, 212/257, 767/933  [104 men in cat.  676 men in total]
T1: 2:13 34/47, 184/257, 628/933
Bike: 1:19:58, 33/47, 157/257, 677/933
T2: 1:51, 38/47, 214/257, 760/933
Run: 49:31, 31/47, 129/257, 579/933

Overall: 2:47:57 35/47, 160/257, 659/933 (qualifier result - H-125%. I-122% - unconfirmed)

Target times to aim at - 2:41 (9 minutes) or 2:34 (14 minutes)

Swim - down by 3 to 5 minutes (29 to 30 minutes)
Bike - 3.5 to 5 minutes (1:15 to 1:16:30)
Run - 1.5 to 4 minutes (45:30 to 48 minutes)
Total - 2:33:30 to 2:38:30  

With the same transitions, this would put me Females: 85th to 116th instead of 160th.  Short of the obvious positives of a gorgeous day, not crashing, feeling comfortable on my bike for the first time in ages and it not raining, I did this on minimal training.  I have slacked off so hard recently.  I'm focused on Alpe d'Huez now for the next 6.5 weeks but with tight targets above to work to as well I have no choice but to get off my ass and stay out there until such time as it all comes around again.

(c) all photos thanks to the organiser that recognises a good set of free photies is more rewarding than a teeshirt bike cleaning rag.

Slateman Triathlon 2017

Well, that was probably more of a B(minus) than an E.

All time targets were met and exceeded except for the swim where I forgot to apply any toe-pointing or rotation so swam somewhat like a flat fish... and not the graceful stingray kind.

I left myself too many choices to make with transition clothing so transitions were rubbish and in a rush the essential things got forgotten, like taking my helmet off so I chose to retrace my steps through transition rather than risk a disqualification for discarding equipment in an inappropriate place.

2 hours on the bike was no bother.  None of the cramps from my previous 2 races although, despite dialling down my cleats position to "the perfect position" on Saturday, I set off on the bike after the swim feeling like both feet were completely odd.

I was most concerned about the run, given my dodgy hip and lack of hill climb training.  I have however, discovered that as long as I do Marcus's exercises, I can just about manage anything at the right pace.

I set myself a target to run all the way up the mountain.  In 2015 when I last did the event there was a time trial up the mountain, a total of elevation 185m.  Although I didn't race it (except for a cursory interest in how I did) I was most distressed to be passed by a woman racing for Norwich Tri Club.  It didn't look like there was a time trial this time but I timed myself anyway.  This year completing it 90 seconds faster than last year and passing others from the flatlands instead of being passed.

The descent and associated kicker uphills on the other side of the mountain seemed like they might fly by and then I got stomach cramp as I headed down the first slope.

I was desperate for some water but had to wait until the carpark at the top of the hill before I drank a large cup full.  I resigned myself to a half marathon pace run to work the cramp off but I was feeling well again in no time so took the brakes off and hop skipped the ups.

I regained all the female places I'd lost and claimed another 2 places in the finishing straights.  Mostly the target for this race was to be able to train through it, treating it like a fun race and not killing myself.  I declare it a success as I managed to ride to work on Monday morning.

Swim 24:50 669/949 Overall, 116th / 184F , 34/66 FV40
T1 - 5:53
Bike 1:53:24 558/949 overall,55th/184F, 18/66 FV40
T2 - 2:38
Run 1:14:18 500/949 overall, 51st/184F, 17/66 FV40

Serious shit going down here.

I'm having another day off.  It's Slateman this weekend.  I'm really excited about it.  First triathlon of the season, beautiful place, another excuse to go camping.

Unfortunately I'm in my usual pre-race state - slightly injured, exhausted from a difficult week at work and lacking any motivation to do anything.  The weather isn't really helping but it doesn't matter, today is a good rest day.  Tomorrow, we travel, register and chill.

My tt bike has been giving me considerable jip this year.  I haven't done a single race without getting leg cramps after 5 miles of riding.  I've tried to change the position of my cleats and my saddle but I've been too lazy this year to try anything else in between.  I do just need to start spending more time on it.

This morning, lacking a motivation for anything other than bikey tinkering I dug out the rollers, the offending bike and shoes and my camera and there's been a lot of this...

Some of this...

And quite a lot of this...

(note how the bike is still upright, it's just me that's the problem).

Ripley has been helping

This weekend's race isn't a really important one - it's a fun one and since I've done little training directly for it after recovering from my Stockton world championships qualifying performance 4 weeks ago, I'm not having a taper for this race, I'm just cruising through it like a "B" race, without beating myself up over it.  I have little doubt that I'll enjoy myself this weekend but right now I feel like I'm going to struggle to race so I'm having a think about the great things I've done since my last race in Stockton...

• Swum nearly 6km outdoors... tick in the box for swimming
• Cycled over 287 miles - not that impressive
• Run less than 10 miles - still, no
• Done 6 yoga sessions
• Had a massage with Marcus to try to stop my ridiculous floppy hip. 

So that didn't work, I'm going to compare 2015 (last time I did this race) to 2017.  Now that's more like it! (2015 vs 2017)

Swim - 11km vs 21.5km

Bike - 805 mile vs 1087 miles

Run - 112 mile vs 132 mile

2015 was my first tri year back after being ill but still...

So setting time targets is tricky... given it's not important...

Swim - 20 minutes I'll be overjoyed

Bike - Sub 2 hours would be great.

Run - 1:15 (5.76 mph avg).  Sub 1 hour would be dreamland 

I went on to repair the puncture in my mountain bike and finish tidying the general chaos I had caused in the house.  I guess there's a tiny part of me that wants to start packing now.

This race feels like mock exams.  After it, I have Chester Tri and then it's Alpe d'Huez in July.  I have to start doing more miles of everything before then or else I will be in trouble.  So if Slateman is a mock exam then triathlon is definitely Chemistry.  I'm going to get an "E" this weekend but hopefully it's fine, I'll bottle down, do the work, learn the muscle memory and hopefully pass the Alpe with flying colours... just so long as my hip doesn't explode (that never happened in A'levels).

Stanley & his Plan

C

Commitment	What do I need for the job
ownership	Essential	Significant	Desireable
responsibilty	Brakes issue sorted	Time	More physio
excellence	Challenges
	Hurdles		Barriers		Pitfalls
	Need to get faster	Have to train	Unwell	Focus on what you can do	Work stress	Keep handing things over
	Need to slim down	Have to eat sensibly	Injured	Focus on what you can do	Work stress	Cut negative conversations short
	Need faster transition	Ride without gloves	Work time	Manage hours		Focus on your own work
	Nowhere to stay	Need to book the camp				Ignore others chimps
Planning
We have a new training plan.  If I stick to it as best I can I will be as successful as I can be.					Foundation stones
We have more rest stops and more specific intensity than before					Target Goals		Maintenance Goals
Before, we put too much emphasis on following a heavy workload without rest or fun					weight 60kg		Completions at 80-90%
We are doing more bike miles for fun, more fast running. We can enjoy shorter swimming				27/07/2017	AdH		2 weekly sessions swim bike run
We have rescheduled the plan to start from where we are now - a little behind on swimming.				23/04/2017	Stockton 52, 1:14, 25	120km bike	strength every day
We have learned new strength exercises which really improve running and cycling				21/05/2017	Slateman 12 or 24, 2,1:15	18km run
We have a route plotted out that we can repeat for successful bike training.				04/06/2017	Chester 30,1:20,50	1 mile swim
We started working towards lifting weights.  Now we can put it into action.				02/07/2017	Ripon 29:30,1:15,47	21 mile run
I'm going to return to training to get faster
I'm going to eat properly to slim down.  I will go shopping for healthy fruit and veg and eat good food at work, not bad.  Daily salad box walks are in.  I will leave my waterproof trousers at work.
I will just have to put up without cake for a  while.
I'm going to learn to love fruit and tea again and I'm going to have the occasional small glass of wine.					Planning for excuses
I will manage my injuries and illness and continue to do what I can while I recover					work's too important	devolving opportunity to others
I will start listening for my "go home from work" alarm and adjust it if I get into work late					Too tired	Control your hours - get to go home
I will continue to hand over work tasks to colleagues.  Opportunity sharing!.					hunger/boredom	Get a walk outside
I will cut negative conversations short - even my own and focus on my work priorities.					resting in a sulk	use the time to meditate
I will listen to others Chimps and then manage them.
It won't matter if I don't hit my target times.  I would like to feel like I've done really well, however I do.
If I put the training into AdH I will come out of it better than I did Kielder because I won't have a silly swim to contend with.
I will have the great training rides as outcomes for future reference
How do I deal with not meeting goals and targets?    I'm likely to sulk.   But nowadays I'm taking my chimp out on some silly long rides that will help it stay worn out and motivated by endeavours and adventure
I will measure progress by metres climbed as well as distances ridden but I do need to keep doing the miles.
How do I encourage those miles? I can work on a balance of long miles and heavy weights sessions.  The diversity of the two should bring results - new approach
I'm going to keep the philosophy of not saying no to things I want to do because it makes me a better athlete and a happier person and I surprise myself.
I'm going to post all of these and highlight my top motivators and post them on my desk and bedside drawer.
Want to give up?					Outcomes / Weaknesses
Why do you want to give up				Success	Complacency - forgetting the effort
Can you change anything before you give up?					Fear of being unable to repeat
Can you find a different approach?					Accept post-race blues & plan the celebration
Who have you talked it through with?
What are the advantages to giving up your dream?				Part-success	Acknowledge and celebrate partial success but continue to encourage the chimp
What are the disadvantages to giving up your dream?
What are you going to do when you stop?				Failure	Get perspective
					Stages of grief.
Helping to stay committed					Denial
Time management					Yearning to hit the reset button
Work effectively					Bargaining (if only)
Prioritise and don't get distracted					Anger or seeking explanation
Do one thing at a time					Disorganisation - acceptance and depression
Avoid negative people					Reorganisation - make plans to move on.
Listen to / seek advice
Don't be indecisive, it takes up too much energy.
If you lose motivation, say, "fine, let's not do this".  You'll soon be back at it.  Give the chimp space to shout.