Day 1. No Excuses or... Using the Best Weather.

A carefree attitude to training. When you're stuck, just free your mind, be 11 again and just play at it. decided it is going to be Day 1 of Ironman training today. It's still week -6 of my 20 week plan but with it being such a biggie, I figured I should start adaptation early. Actually I have been at it for a while but when better to say 'no more excuses than New Years week.

Of course the whole idea of Ironman training is to fit it in with every day life and holidays are not made of such things. I would have felt fraudulent going swimming without getting up at 5am. As the morning ploughed on and I occupied myself with the tech phone I just bought to make running, photography and staying in touch easier, I experienced a combination of guilt and justification that Mondays are supposed to be rest days anyway.

I couldn't face cleaning bikes in the torrential rain and howling wind so I satisfied myself with sorting out the tunes for training on the phone. Before I knew what had happened, TSK was back from his walk and I had done nothing. I felt bad.

A day on the sofa is not for active people. I did so little last week I decided to pan the rest day. First hurdle, hunger. I did toast and read my new swim smooth book to get motivated. Whilst I knew toast wasn't a great idea, I wouldn't have made it through the lengthy process that is packing and dressing for a mid winter night time run, never mind finish the run.

Second step was to convince myself that this run has a purpose. After doing a 'cross race yesterday, I didn't think it would be a long run so I resigned myself to training on a stomach full of toast and testing out the breathability of my new coat when it had actually stopped raining. As it is, I left the house at 7pm in the best weather of the day. I took the coat off because I was so warm. The toast was an issue. I had to adjust the heart rate monitor alarm as my body was trying to do too many things at once.

Otherwise I spent the entire evening watching the glistening rocks in the light of my head torch and listening to the Rivelin River churning by in the periphery of the beam. I could not have been happier. I got home at 8.20 pm. Now that's what I call making the most of a bad day.

SHAFF

Yesterday we found time with my cold to go to the rather promiscuously named Sheffield Adventure Film Festival. I had already intended to go and meet up with my friend Stuart (Mr Johnson) who mentioned that he was exhibiting his artwork here when I bumped into him at the National Cyclo-cross Championships in January.

As the weeks passed approaching the SHAFF, my brain went into some kind of melt-down and I completely failed to make any decisions on what lectures to visit, what films to go and see or which events to go and watch. Some of the films on offer I have seen. Some of the presentations are by people I can chat to after a race. Some of the people there are climbers whose names I vaguely recognise from times gone by but whose sport I associate with a darker time in my life that I still yearn for yet don't feel the urge to repeat certain aspects of.

While I attach a certain level of "Turn off your TV screen and go and do something more interesting" to most of the sports I pursue, I admit that SHAFF was a big draw and I knew I'd regret it if I saw nothing so the cold was a perfect excuse to head into town after lunch, do a bit of bike-related shopping and then head out to the cinema.

We spent about 45 minutes admiring Stuart's work. He's awfully good. We talked through where all of his paintings were and the channels he has had to go through to get permission to sell reproductions of photographs by some of the world's leading mountaineers.

Stuart proudly shows off his work.
but is more proud of the photo he had taken with Andy Kirkpatric yesterday.

We watched Bike Films 2 - the second of a collection of cycling films, actually mountain bike films. The jumps and tricks became a little boring after a while and I would've given up completely if it hadn' t been for the promise of "Life Cycle", the third and final film of the group. On the upside, Mount Washington, my old ski hill was on the first film including the little tree runs we used to take the kids down on lessons. "Life Cycle" turned out to be less promising than suggested by the guy who did the intro, another excuse for filming bikers hammering down rediculous downhill routes, salvaged only by the clever imagery of the seasons swooping through the forest behind the rider as he passed along the trail - vibrant greens turning to orange then grey then snowfall gathering. Enthusiastic mishmash about riding in 6inches of snow when I know Jill and her pugsley regularly trudge through knee-deep powder together.

The whole thing made me disgustingly enthused to get back out there being adventurous and I was quite happy to bump into another friend, Nick Craig after the show. Clutching a pint of Guiness to soothe his cold, he was off to watch the Steve Pete demonstration.

I declared that next year we would walk down here from our Sheffield house so we could drink as much beer as we like, not worry about parking and spend the whole weekend enjoying the spectacle and catching up with friends. I have since discovered the weekend pass tickets although on a beautiful day like today, I'm not sure they're appropriate. I am sorely tempted to return there today to watch the running films selection.

I have no excuses since I have been out for my run already although I will probably, instead manage a bike ride with my paniers to the supermarket to pick up stuff we forgot last week and get some miles in whilst I am at it. Decisions decisions. I fear that if I become any more motivated, my brain may explode.

My run today was glorious. I didn't want to repeat yesterdays route. I fancied more distance but didn't want to get in the car and drive anywhere because with the cold, I wouldn't be able to get on and do the distance I'd otherwise like to, having indulged diesel in the drive out. I decided to man up and take on the footpath from Towick to Anston which I'd been putting off because I don't know what condition it's in. If its in good condition, it's an easy run but I didn't fancy bog hopping if that's what it was going to take.

I checked the map before leaving to discover I had a choice of routes - footpath and bridlepath. I decided to take the footpath and if it was shitty, try the bridlepath further along. I scoped out the return route which avoided the main road - but still put me on some fairly busy, pavement-less minor roads.

I reached the church in Todwick down a lane I'd never thought to try and said hello to a couple of dog walkers passing the park. At the end of the tarmac lane the path was very do-able. Despite the recent rain it was well drained, slightly sandy soil which ran alongside the field, paralell to the main A57. A strip of bright sunshine moved across the field and for a moment bathed me in the prelude of summer.

There were no slippery bits at all. It wasn't till I neared the end of the path I thought of the option of returning along the bridlepath and to my delight, the two joined eachother 100m from the road meaning I didn't even need to negotiate the lanes of a different village.

The return bridlepath was also lovely and sandy. One minor slobby bit which either of my shoes could've coped with but I was glad I was in the fell shoes.
In the distance, at least 15 vehicles surrounded a couple of ox-bow lakes in the fields. I wondered just how many fish could be left in there to fish-out but apparently plenty as another two vehicles passed me on the dirt-track from the fishery.

I was back in the village. I toyed with calculating the extra distance I had run, trying to estimate the length of the two paths and adding to yesterday's distance. Turns out I was a bit short and my run was only 8.55km. Still, over 5 miles so I can be happy. The legs still hurt. Can I, I wonder, legitimately add to yesderday's effort and proclaim myself a 13km weekend run?

Anything that gets me closer to beliving I can comfortably complete the Newbury Duathlon in three weeks time gives me a boost so I'll go for that.

Advanced levels

New levels of pain may be achievable now that I have an ipod.

Thursday saw a successful, yet tiring, trip to the gym in the morning then straight off to work.

All tasks that needed to be completed have been done.

I am discovering the joys of music. It helps to drown out the boring old men.

The Vanu Has Her Pulling-Knickers on

Goodness knows how I have managed it, through a report from the World Triathlon Champs, a programme about the Three Peaks Yacht Race and the review from the World Mountain Bike Champs in Fort William, Scotland, I have spent all weekend sanding, buffing, washing and painting the vanu.

The highlight of my weekend was three footballers walking past, one quietly commenting that, "She's doing a good job fixing that up".

The truth of it is, on Saturday morning TSK had his delayed birthday present before the autumnal weather sets in (his birthday was in May). We went Kayaking on a local lake. We learned new skills and practiced them for two hours. I took my first trip on moving water (well, it was only moving about 1 mile per hour but I had fun).

Since Saturday morning, my inner thighs no longer work. My back is tired, sure, but my knees were gripping an over-sized boat for two hours and they no longer want to stay together (no funniness, please it hurts!). I felt motivated to run this morning (after watching the yacht race) but the legs said no. So instead I've stood on a chair painting the vanu roof and polishing her black plastic bits and dreaming of our next adventure in a slightly more
spruced-up wanna-be campervan.


Ps. There's no news on Green yet, but basically she's unfixable - could be bent back in shape but not worth the risk and too expensive to send her away to have it done proper and repainted. I am hoping, since she also has been on her last legs for a while, to get plenty of money towards a nice new touring frame... once I eventually hear from Eviljet.