But first here's some stats
September Bike - 352.21km, 14.2kph, 3436m
September Run - 14.3km, 8.1kmph, 183m
September Hill walk - 34.16km, 3.6kph, 2092m
September strength - 45 minutes
August Bike - 138.3km, 15kph, 1932m
August Run - 6.3km, 8.2kph, 159m
July Bike - 312.6km, 12.6kph, 2771m
July Run - 7.87km, 9kph, 63m
June Swim - 5.9km,
June Bike - 374.64km, 20.2kph, 4357m
June Run - 31.7km, 7.9kph, 787m
May Swim - 5.47km
May Bike - 438.5km, 11.9km, 5381m
May Run - 53.84km, 7.8kph, 1017m
April Bike - 349.6km, 15kph, 5736m
April Run - 44.97km, 8.3kmph, 1237m
Monday, October 08, 2012
Monday, October 01, 2012
3 Peaks Cyclo-cross
Sunny morning
You can hear it
Siren's warning
There is weather on both sides
And I know it's coming
Just like before
There's a black dog
That scratches my door
He's been growling my name saying
You better get to running
Can you make it better for me
Can you make me see the light of day
Because I got no one
Who will bring me a
Big umbrella
So I'm watching the weather channel
And waiting for the storm
Sheryl Crow, Weather Channel
Over and over going through my head all day long.
We left Helwith Bridge in a great big group and quickly settled down into scraggly clumps of people. I resolved this year to avoid the mele and ride at a simple pace to catch dad up somewhere outside Horton village. The plan worked and we climbed the last few steep roady hills together before the turn off to farm tracks.
From there I said my "see ya laters" and headed off into the rain.
There were no flocks of sheep frolicking in the fields this year. They were mostly huddling from the rain. It was soon obvious that it was going to be a difficult day when I found myself walking across bogs that I'd normally ride over.
I caught up with my friend Anna at the bottom of Simon Fell, amusingly disgruntled that I was passing her. Quite frankly I was merely surprised. I took the fell runners route up Simon Fell, choosing to slough across the grassy wall instead of hauling up the stone wall. Joined, as usual by an army rider, we zigzagged slowly up. It went by quicker than usual - not that it hurt any less - I think I'm still relatively hill-fit after Scotland.
Reaching the styal over the wall, the wind hit. No blustering, simply consistently around 50-60mph, the rain flying sideways across the moor, passing in a blur like a ghostly high-speed train. I started riding my bike but was soon blown sideways towards the wall at high speed. Trying again, I went to ride to my left so at least I had 3 ft before hitting the wall but I was constantly blown into sharp and lumpy rocks and risking flying off the bike. The bogs arrived and so we all reverted to walking again.
Keeping dry feet had at least gone by half an hour earlier so bog-stomping ensued. Someone tried to zip my waterproof pocket up for me but we really didn't want to stop long enough and his fingers couldn't release the zip in the cold.
A final ascent through the rocks to the summit. A gentleman asked what our challenge was. "The three peaks" I said.
"Are you nearly finished?" he asked.
"Nope, this is the first one!".
The summit plateau was more difficult than usual. It's never rideable - despite it being so flat - because of the chossy rocks which bounce out from under wheels as I try to ride it. In these conditions it was hardly walkable. Carrying the bike wasn't an option. The wind would blow so hard, its pressure on the bike would accelerate me to a speed where my feet could not land on anything fixed and I floundered to put a foot on a solid rock. I put the bike down and tried to lean into the wind. That meant the bike was upright and my wheels were getting blown up in the air. I resorted to pushing my bike at 60 degrees to the ground, leaning into it to put some weight on the wheels.
We battled back to the edge, to the drop off and started the run down.
Once it eventually became rideable the descent off the mountain went by quickly. Dropping out of the cloud to see the bottom 100m of the valley was a relief. The view was finally back in colour. I continued to ricochet of the side of the footpath but finally it was controllable.
"It shouldn't be that difficult to get this far" was my overriding thought.
Near the base, TSK was shouting directions at me from the other side of the bog. I think I resorted getting off and running over to meet him for my food stash and drink, dodging the crash site to the side of me. I left saying that Anna Cipullo was behind me and dad wasn't sounding healthy. He'd been wheezing a bit on the hillclimbs.
As I departed I asked for a change of shorts, a wool top and another pair of socks at the next control. I'd been thinking about them all the way down the mountain and not asking for them seemed silly, so I asked.
The marshal called out to me, "you'll have to do the ride of your life now!" which I took to mean, I had to rush to get to the next checkpoint before cut off time.
He was right but the road section to Chapel le Dale was heavenly and panic subsided. The roaring wind which had plagued us was now on my tail and I ripped along the road, all the way stuffing food and drink down my neck as it's the best place to consume. A turn onto the steep hill leading to the turn off for Whernside made no impact on my legs and I knew that I'd be in good shape to finish as I'm normally struggling by this point.
I passed a man heaving himself up the hill in a massive gear and thought, "what a tosser" but then realised that he'd snapped his derailleur on Ingleborough and had done his best to shorten his chain and drag himself along fixie style in the middle of his block. We had a brief laugh about the turn of events before I headed onto Whernside.
The marshal at the bottom said, "You're over the cut off time so you can stop now if you want to but I'll let you through". Thank god. There was no stopping me for I had found my legs and still had a lot of places to make up from waiting for dad. A small man in a red coat with a little beard? Get thee behind me Satan, I am going up this 'ill. It was 12:03. We had started at 9:30. The only saving grace was the warmth of the weather. Any colder and the windchill could've been deadly but the mountain rescue team are clever about exposure and they were content for us to continue.
I had a snicker with a man sporting a white beard about how we'd sneaked through by a whisper, though they continued to let people through for some time after. I didn't know it but dad got through at 12:09. At the water station I said hello to Eric Taylor, rivalling my dad at 39 events.
On the trudge up Whernside I passed on as many tips as I could to people carrying their bikes like a big kite or paraglider instead of putting it to their backs like a sail and using the wind to help with the climb.
I was alone on the climb, passing everyone I could, yet not catching anyone in front. I thought of Andy Smith face-planting on the descent last year and of the lady who broke her ankle and of the man who crashed on the way down Ingleborough two years ago and over strained his neck and I looked at the rain flying sideways across the hillside and I realised that there'd be no helicopters today. I concluded that if I died on that hill that day I'd die happy. I grinned and kept going.
On the summit ridge a Mancunican lass and I talked of the North and epic weather. On the descent I ran past her teetering on the limestones slabs as I skipped by in the bog - feet already wet but happy to stay warm by running.
I caught up with an old friend - Ruth Gamwell on the bottom of Whernside in more ways than one - physically and verbally - our annual exchange of news. I passed her and two people with her, jumping on my bike to finally find a rideable section. We passed another man having a stretch with an agonising wrangled face of pain protruding from his helmet. That was me a few years ago - completely unprepared for the task at hand. I'd sworn my way all the way up PYG that year. This year I felt good and bounced my way across bridges, stepping stones and river crossings - all over 12 inches deep in bubbling peaty water.
I saw Po at the signal box along the railway line and reported that I didn't know whether dad was coming or not. I passed the same message on to Andrew. Because I was still warm, I didn't take on the dry clothes or the warm top but carried on as I was and it wasn't a problem for me at all.
The ride to PYG was frustrating - back into a headwind. I just got on with it though. Phil Thackary passed, offering up energy gels from his car. I declined but others sat in his slipstream which pissed me off quite a bit. To be honest though, I wasn't bothered about trying to catch a wheel as I didn't want to use excess energy pushing myself on the road. Ruth stuffed a sarnie in her mouth as she sat on my wheel and I got a lift back off her for a while but once I started taking on food, I couldn't be bothered with racing.
Arriving at PYG I caught up the Mancunian lady again and we both sighed with relief that we only had to do this howling wind one more time. This year it wasn't about the mountain climbs. The crowd at the bottom of PYG seemed louder than ever and most had assembled around a large puddle part way up the road. A voice shouted, "it's rideable on the centre left" so I rode as fast as I could at the spot where I remember the land rover tracks used to be. Water sloshed around my hands and thighs and soaked through my shoes but I pedalled and pedalled and popped out the other side to rapturous applause. On I rode around the corner, up the side of the corners until finally, my strength ran out at the 90 degree bend. I pushed for a while and me and Manc lass rested on our laurels for a moment for there were no more deadlines.
Eventually we got back to riding. It seemed just recompense for the weather that they (I assume the parks authority) had resurfaced parts of the climb on PYG making it mostly rideable up until the first passing through the gate. All of the steep rocky sections have been filled in with shaley gravel saving the legs both coming up and down.
Just as I started wallking, Lynn Bland flew by warning me that she couldn't squeeze the brakes and then I noticed through the corner of my eye the shaddow of the main that was Crispin Doyle and his broken collar bone, walking off the mountain - carrying his bike in a sulky fashion (who can blame him?) There was too much noise in the wind for me to hear what had happened to him.
I took some water off the ever-present helper on PYG which was very welcome to wash down the last of the energy bars that I had guzzled on the road. Jo Jebb sprang past me on the summit climb with Owen Henrickson close by and Andy Smith updated me on Crispin's status when I saw him walking the opposite way down the mountain as I was on my way up. They were a welcome relief from holding up my hand to protect my face from the searing stinging rain blowing straight at me at 60 miles per hour. When I went to put my bike down, a large puddle had built up inside my waterproof coat in the crook of my elbow and it sploshed down my arm and through my already sodden glove.
The top of PYG is where I usually put on my waterproof to give me warmth on the long descent. This time I was a little worried about what I'd feel like without another layer. I ran away as quickly as possible, bog hopping to avoid the rocky path then dropping steeply away wherever possible. It didn't take long to get to a point where I could get on my bike but as I did my hips slid forward, the bike started to move but my fingers didn't. No matter how much I wriggled by elbows to get the brakes to pull on, my fingers would not respond. I simply reverted to dropping the bike and running away before it took over on its own.
A second, flatter attempt to get on was more successful. The drains flew by in a blur and I was back out of that wind before I knew it, though still shifting my gears with the opposite hand to make it feasible to manipulate the lever.
Only now did Queen take over in my head, "Don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time, I'm having a ball". The man behind me said, "just don't fall off infront of me".
The puddle on the descent was about 6 inches deeper and slippier. I went to take my previous route but sadly my pedals released and I reverted to getting off the bike to push out. A disappointment for me for riding it would've been so satisfying.
I was dismayed to see dad's bike on the back of the Vanu when I returned to the road and at the same time relieved that he had come down off Whernside and that Andrew wasn't stood around still waiting for him. I also knew that it meant the vanu would be waiting for me at the finish so I wasn't going to have to go and camp out in the Norton Wheelers camping park until Andrew and Dad returned to the finish.
Four of us hit the road together. Me and Steve Loades both agreed to ride together nice and steady on the basis that we both get leg cramp on that final hill to the finish line. The Manc Lass and Karl Brown rode off ahead (obviously not been trying hard enough). To combat the cramp I reached into my tool bag and recovered the 3 inch slab of Kendal Mint Cake that had been lurking there in a plastic bag. As the Vanu rolled past I was ripping into it with my teeth and after I'd eaten a chunk I shared it with Steve. We both made it over the hill top and freewheeled into the finish line together.
It's a relief to get to the end of every Three Peaks but this one was especially satisfying. I didn't do a great time but I didn't bomb out either. I enjoyed every moment of it and didn't do too badly considering I'd had 2 months off training to get married. I hope there will be more 3 Peaks and I hope that one day there will be another one just like that. For me it's the hardest thing I've ever done. Harder than ADIL this summer because of the wind and the terrain. It's given me a yearning for another event and an urge to go further and be fitter.
This years 3 Peaks has sent my head somewhere special & I think I'm probably quite looking forwards to getting there.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
This years three peaks & life after weddings.
At least from that point I had a solid base to take away on honeymoon, not to mention to return to in September when I got back to work.
We did a lot of endurance style training in Scotland which has pretty much convinced me that I will be able to finish the peaks, even if I don't do a good time. 2 munroes in 5 hours and 22km with heavy rucsacs counts doesn't it.
Knowing I wasn't going to have enough time to do a good job of the 3 Peaks, I decided the best way to get back to training through the winter was to set myself targets for the middle of winter, ie. The 'cross nationals which I haven't done for a couple of years, given my own lack of fitness and the risk of being pulled out after 20 minutes. This plan also gave me the opportunity to re implement the bike training I did when I dabbled in road racing without having to worry about too much running and swimming training at the same time.
I've been doing spinning and strength training for two weeks now and I have really enjoyed it. Despite it being short duration training, I discovered last weekend that it is having the desired effect and increasing my training endurance and my cyclo-cross at the weekend flew by in no time. Just as I was trying to decide whether to take a rest week or not, I have been hit by a massive, shitty cold exasserbated by the aspiration of a fly during the race on Sunday which has enforced the rest issue. Sadly it's coincided with a really important yet boring training course which I both really wanted to do but am finding very hard going.
Thursday Friday I intend to rest good and proper.
So with the culmination of good training, bad training and my head being in a pretty good place, it's difficult to know what might happen on Sunday.
I guess this like most other years will be a suck it and see hope I get around kind of event. I really hope there's another one next year.
In other news I have accepted an offer on my house in Wootton Bassett. It is not what I wanted but from my reaction to the news I can deduce that not having a house in Wootton Bassett is what I want. It's a lovely little house which I will miss but I don't use it anymore.
I accepted the offer reluctantly but now I am looking forwards to buying a house in Sheffield. For some reason it feels like the grown up thing to do... despite the fact that the grown up thing to do is to hold onto it until the market comes around.
If I look at it this way:
"I will be the one living in the more expensive house - not Maureen"
Then it all feels OK.
It feels like a forwards step. It feels like getting the HSBC off my back. It feels like I won't have to fear that the under-cover rental operation will land me in trouble.
C'mon Sheffield, come to Trep.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Historic Moments
A British yellow jersey leading out a British stage winner on the Champs Elysee.
Well done Cav and Wiggo.
Well done Cav and Wiggo.
Friday, June 29, 2012
A Day in the Lakes 1/2IM OR Middle Distance on Minimal Training
12 months on from this little disaster we ended up camped back at Park Foot campsite in Pooley Bridge to finish what I started. This time I brought my favourite weapon, my fiance, for much needed support.
For the record, it's been pissing it down for weeks and in North Yorkshire on Friday, rivers were bursting their banks and flooding villages, the Bob Graham fell run had been cancelled and the Great North Swim delayed 24 hours from Saturday to Sunday. We weren't even sure if the race was going to go ahead but the organisers posted on facebook that they were on their way over to the Lakes, so we packed up the vanu, drove through thick fog and lashing rain to get to the Lakes and set up camp, in the rain of course.
A quick trip to the pub after dinner set me even more on edge for raceday as the river was gushing through the village at about 1m/s and the wind had picked up again and was throwing the lake into a choppy swell. I didn't really want to do ADIL again without the full swim and I definately didn't want to face up to the prospect of doing one really HARD duathlon.
Sleep was as intermittent as it usually is on a campsite. Having to decide whether you *actually* need a pee in the middle of the night and weighing up the pros and cons of waiting for it to stop raining before you go. I went and peace was restored with the help of earplugs to drown out the sound of the rain on the roof of the vanu.
Mercifully, raceday dawned dry (I hasten to add, not clear) but also the howling wind had dropped and the lake was pan-flat. The only panics were some last minute toolbag packing and making sure the air pressure on my tyres was correct. I considered using the track pump but decided that whatever pressure drop had occurred since Scisset would probably benefit my grip on a wet day so settled for a well-practiced squeeze of the tyres which seemed 'hard enough'.
Matt Hartley wanted to know my thoughts for the day to which I responded, "finishing". Aparently he wanted a prediction on the weather which was basically, it will rain eventually.
As we got into the water it became apparent that the water temperature was not, as announced, 13 degrees C. I think they might've meant Farenheit - or possibly Kelvin. I knew I would have to get around fast to avoid the cold setting in and slowing me down even further. As my swimming is still quite weak, I decided to use my legs on the swim too, hoping that the extra body-heat I held onto would make me faster in transition and on the bike.
The green hats started first and without further ado (to give us the best chance of not dropping out) the orange hats were started as soon as we had assembled.
The excellent call on behalf of the organisers was to move the course of the swim. If we had followed the usual route across the lake and back we would have been crossing that surge of water exiting the lake into the river. Instead they directed us directly South - against the current close to the edge of the lake where the current is lightest. Then returning North further offshore with a little bit of a tail-current on the way back. Spotting the buoy was tricky as we were on more-or-less an out and back course so the buoy was approximately 750m away but there were sailing boats in between which I used for sighting. It was nice to see lots of people on the campsite, lining the banks to cheer us on - something you don't get on the usual course.
It was hard-going because everyone spread out quite a lot. I kept trying to jump on feet or get in a group but I would lose people quickly and suddenly find myself alone in between two groups so I just did the best I could. I checked my watch at the buoy - 15 minutes. Pleased with that but knew that I needed to keep going fast . At the second buoy there was quite a cluster of people so I felt quite happy that I wasn't dangling out the back on my own. We'd even caught up a green hat who turned out to be quite a good swimmer but rubbish at sighting so probably swam about 2.4km to everyone elses' 1.9.
The last straight was hard. At first my fingers started to claw and it seemed to take forever to get to the boats again. Once we did, the left calf twitched with cramp once or twice which is my signal to start easing-off but I just didn't want to. I tried my best to really focus on my technique but it felt totally futile as I combed at the water with my useless hands. I tried a bit of breast stroke but that was tediously slow so I sprinted for the shore after the final (starting) buoy. When I stood up to the very enthusiastic onlookers, I just said, "oh my god" and walked up the hill to transition.
39 minutes on my watch. 40:40 by the time I'd walked over the timing mat! 288/334
I took time to dry off. Although I knew I was going to get wet on the bike, it seemed like a good idea to at least hit the road damp instead of soalked and make the most of the first bit of the day. I put my arm warmers on as I figured I'd need to warm up and even had the nouse to turn one inside out when I realise I'd put it on upside down and wasn't going to get the wrist over my elbow. I am pleased with this. Sorry if you don't understand what I'm on about but I am proud of myself for this - what with the frozen brain and all that.
All of my food fell out of my jersey pockets so I stuffed what I could find back in - the home-made bag of mixed fruit and nuts that I like to refer to as my nose-bag and an energy bar. I grabbed my helmet. I didn't realise my knee-warmers had also fallen out of my pocket.
I got out of transition with a smile on my face and decided to take the first part of the course easy as a warm up.
The route alongside Ullswater is beautiful and quite flat at first. Some of the tarmac is lovely and smooth and it was very happy-making to just roll along it, quite unfussed. I saw TSK on a street corner (sheesh) looking suitably enthusiastic in his marshall's jacket.
I took the time to sort out my nose-bag and started to eat from it, passing other riders and coping with motorists that overtake without planning. Forget the no-drafting rules, in places it was like a road race with groups of 5 or 6 riders trundling along together although given the state of everyone's body temperature, it was more like a sunday club run and there really wasn't much benefit to be had from group riding. None of it was organised drafting by any stretch of the imagination.
The road gradually gets lumpier and little streams spill out across the road meaning my feet had had dry socks on for about 15 minutes before a driver coming the other way soalked me and everyone I was with form the knees down. So much for dry feet but then no point in crying over spilt rain on a day like today. I was just glad of all the soggy Fairholmes rides I've done as a warm up!
Eventually we hit the bottom of the Kirkstone pass climb. Time to stop eating, drop into the small ring and churn out pedal revs. I got a few twitches from the left calf to let me know I needed to be careful with it so I sat down as much as I could on the climb.
When push came to shove as it does near the top of the K pass, it seemed I could do anything with this calf muscle except spin it really quickly so I reasoned to keep in a big-ish gear for the rest of the day.
I caught people up, riders passed me back and got through the last section of the climb watching the legs on the bloke in front. He didn't have particularly nice legs but it took the pain away when I watched his Ironman tattoo on his calf expand and contract with each pedal stroke.
Over the top I stopped to don my coat just before a number of parked cars and riders. They were warning us of the inevitable accident on the descent and the crowds of slow descenders started to form. Me and one other rider dived into the abyss of fog and increasingly heavy rain with our eyes open and our brains switched on just in time to see someone being loaded into the back of an ambulance on a body-board, a pair of white dainty cycling shoes carefully placed by the side of the road. I understand there were no major injuries reported.
Once we'd passed them I noticed just how bad the bloody rain was, moving from an incessent hissing drizzle to a constant pattering shower.
My friend and I weaved our way down the country lanes without seeing another person until we reached the flat valley bottom avoiding major towns like Windermere and Ambleside. I resumed eating, my figs, now turned to jam, which enveloped each tasty pecan that I pulled from my pocket. I yearned for the frame-top food bag we'd been contemplating earlier in the day.
The day in the lakes ride takes you through some really lovely little villages and country lanes and I wish I could recall them all to you but it did kind of blur. The rain did little to dampen my spirits to be honest because I felt reasonably warm most of the time and the flowers in people's gardens, the sheep grazing on a freshly mowed field, kestrels hunting in open ground, distracted me from the drizzle and the fact that the usual glorious scenery was slightly hidden behind the low cloud.
Finally I was at Shap climb. The temporary road works that halted us on the feed-in downhill were gone so this year I hit the bottom of the climb at a rolling 40kph.
Shap isn't steep, it's just long and I was well into my smallest gear very soon, still suffering from the after-effects of the swim. I had a brief chat with a woman with blonde hair about how our races were going so far. I said I'd left it all in the lake and was slowing down but my only target was to get onto the run and finish the damn thing. "Once past the aid station, there's nothing anyone can do to stop me finishing" I said.
A bloke with a posh accent asked me if this was Shap and "are we at the end of all the major climbs". "Yes", I said, "you can let rip now".
As things started to level out, I caught blonde lady up again. The fruit and nut mix had just kicked in (finally) and mojo reappeared. Unlike last year's fiasco of lost energy drinks at the aid station, I soared by, happy in the knowledge that I had all the fluids and energy I needed and I could get to the end of the bike.
Blondie and I flew off down the hill together, me finally passing her as my downhill stance proved ever so slightly more effective at cutting through the wind - though my max speed on the descent was 3kph slower than last year at 59.
I got a bit chilly on the descent so I flattened out on the tri bars and bashed out the next few kms along the A6 and then back onto minor lanes as far as Askham. Through Lowther Castle I was stopped to a halt on the beautiful park lanes by gamboling lambs. Honest to god I could've 'ad 'em for dinner wee barstards.
I also got cattle-grid fear after a near miss at Fairholmes 2 years ago and several people caught me up.
22km further didn't seem like much when I looked at my Garmin but then I realised it was another hour at this pace so felt a little more reticent. When it got to 10 miles to go I started timetrialling. I wasn't going particularly fast but fast enough to stay warm and focussed enough to stop the boredom setting in, to prevent my brain shutting down muscles. It helped as I caught up Ironman-leg again.
Just to spur me on, with 10km to go, it started absolutely pelting it down. Marshalls were giving warnings about going too quickly around corners and they meant it. On the straights I just enjoyed myself. It was like cyclo-cross - but smoother. I didn't have to worry about getting wet feet on the run - they were already absolutely soalked and were only going to get wet again on the hillside.
Despite this philosophy, by the time I reached transition it had stopped raining and I had already planned which bits of kit in the box I was going to change into and dry clothes and knee warmers were high on the list of priorities.
Expecting to see TSK at the dismount line and waiting with a comedy pun in my mind about his "dismount here" placcard and pizza restaurant adverts, I had to zip my lip when I realised it was actually the organiser holding the placcard.
Bike time: 3:57:05 257/334
I didn't bother to change my socks but the soggy tri top and jersey came off and dry baselayer and run vest went on. My wet waterproof went in a pack pocket and as I reached for the knee-warmers I realised I also had full-length leggings in the box. Those went on to protect my calf muscles from further damage. Joy oh joy! My running shoes had been cooking inside the box in what little sunshine had fallen on the field and they were WARM!
Consolidated by warm feet and dry clothes I threw my emergency pack on my back (stored with the back-side down so it would stay dry in the rain) and ran up the field. Yeah baby RAN!
I managed to run all the way along the flat bit then walked up the hill. Not all the way - but most of the way. I ran an 'ickle tiny bit. Once at the top of the first climb it's a long, flatish stretch across the fell with great views over the lake and it's a nice surface to run on.
I put my coat on because not only was it raining again but the wind started to whisk across the top of the hillside and it was a bit chilly. A couple of other runners did the same and were probably thankful of the organiser's insistence on an emergency kit for this event. As I met a marshall indicating the turn onto the descent, it was raining so hard I asked her to do her best to make sure it didn't quite turn to hail. She agreed to do her best.
The most fun part about this years run was knowing (at least most of) the course. Last year I tried to keep my feet dry at first because I usually try to keep them dry if I can. This year I knew that eventually you have to get wet feet so I didn't bother trying which meant no bog-hopping, no jumping over streams, just chugging on - only checking to make sure you're not going to turn an ankle or end up in up to your knees.
Last year I found it very difficult to contemplate a half marathon after everything that goes before. I still do but it is quite amazing that once you're in a rhythm, it feels like you've just set out. The pain of the bike ride is gone from the legs and you can just get back to running.
The blonde lady caught me up again and we ran together all the way down the descent talking of where we live and what we do for fun and which events we're into. I think she made me run a bit faster for a while and whether that was good for my race or bad (I was properly spent well before the end), I certainly enjoyed it more fer her company.
I stopped to put my coat away and dig some energy beans out of my bag and away she ran into the bog and was lost to me. To my relief the aid station arrived quite quickly and I got to wave to Matt Hartley on his way down to the finish line. He gave me good notice of the boggy sections across the top of the fell ahead which I was glad of as it meant I didn't need to look for the easy way around - just get on with it. I smiled and said that it was what I was into!
The run (walk) up Fusedale was lovely - a quiet hidden valley that can't be seen from Ullswater. It's green and has a river running down the middle. The fells sweep up to the sides and the steep climb out of it proffers a wonderful view of the surrounding peaks. It had actually stopped raining so all was good with the world. I stopped and sat on a rock to remove a large boulder from my shoe. I walked most of the way around Fusedale head chatting to a Mancunian from Flixton which was a desperate shame since I actually wanted to slink off behind a rock for a pee. We pondered together how much further this run could keep going up and checked the Garmin for confirmation that it couldn't be much further.
Onto a big open pasture and the boggy bits that Matt had warned me of. I enjoyed this bit, striding out away from the Manc lad and running the downhills. I caught up the scotsman and some others before we rounded the best corner of the day. Exiting fusedale you're suddenly on the otherside of the fell which made up one valley-side of Fusedale. On this other side it sweeps downwards at 60 degrees to Ullswater, around 500m below. The path takes a daring slant down this hillside over rocky outcrops and slippery slopes, ferny fields and torrential rivulets. Me and the Scotsman bounced down it and he whooped, saying, "They call this a run!?" as I sunk onto my hands to launch myself off a miniature crag. As I fumbled down a grassy slope I reaffirmed my love for my fell shoes as I looked around me at the litter of slither-marks made by flat soled trainers. I stopped laughing when we hit the very vertical final descent to a marshal with a dog who, up until yesterday, should've been TSK.
A few hundred metres back down the road and the course veers up again on another fell track. I'm still scouting for somewhere to relieve my poor bladder but the walls are unsuitable and the ruin turns out to be someone's house. I can't get onto the road with my bladder this full. Eventually, a suitable rock outcrop presents itself and I descend into the grass to momentarily flash my bits to the other runners and the Ullswater steamer trundling up the lake 200m below me. I really hope no-one on that boat had their binoculars focused on the race! I'm welcomed back to the race by a stream of people checking I'm OK and I have a big smile on my face. Definitely "better".
Around the hillside and it's back to the aid station. Unlike last year, they have a few car loads of water bottles left over and they seem more concerned with that than offering me water or telling me which way to go but that's OK because I can do this bit. I practiced it last year.
Actually the cattle grid is still scary.
Running. On the road. Not my fave thing. The church is nice. There's a grassy bit. Then you're on the lake shore. The captain of the steamer is wading up the path to the launch in his wellies (yes that's right, he's wading up the path) and gives me a smile and tells me I'm doing well. It ocurrs to me just now that he's seen my bum earlier but I will let that lie.
I'm doing OK, I'm still running along the road. Running running running, hurty hurty hurty. Ow. No. Can't do that. Ow. It's not that my legs hurt, it's that my hips are refusing to hold up the rest of my body. Perhaps its muscular. I'll take a look in my rucsac and see if I've put any ibuprofen in there.
Ohhh!
thank!
God!!
I!
did!
2 down. Wash down with water. Bit of running. Bit of walking. The pain is easing.
The little muscles at the top of my thighs that make my legs move forwards don't work anymore so I am using my hips to kind of throw my legs forwards, walking like someone with a mild degenerative disease. The paid is easing. Some people pass me saying they've had energy gels. Perhaps I will just have one (they make me violently ill if I use too many). Should I take one with the drugs? I do. I think it speeds the uptake of the drugs and the pain eases some more. I wonder how far I have to go? I am concious of not just meeting the cut-off time but being well inside it. I have too much self respect. I have put too much into this to be close to the cut off time.
Garmin says...
you have 5km to go and if you can do it inside 30 minutes you will have done a 3hr 22km run at the end of everything else. BLOODY GARMIN!
Running. Crap.
I catch someone up who says, "don't catch me up, then I'll have to start running". I say, "you really don't have to. I'm running because it's personal." Nevertheless, off he ran.
Someone else caught me up, a small lady just jogging past. No walking just running. All the way, bloody running. I've stopped running on the up hills. Just walk the up hills, and the down hills. Running on the flat bits. We can do that. I've run out of up hills and downhills so I have to keep running. I can see campers but I can also see boats so that means it's not my campsite. A car comes past with the window down and the passengers shout encouragement. I see another campsite, still not mine. Garmin says 3km to go.
Finally I can see the green army tents on my campsite and I have a sneaky walk as my legs really can't do it anymore but I know they will have to because as soon as I round this corner... yes, there they are. Three kids, all dressed in waterproofs and they're clapping. I focus on red coat and for every clap of her hands there is a a foot fall. Slap slap slap my flat and crappy feet on the tarmac. The pain is gone, all eyes are on me and I am there, I am doing it, I am finally going to kick this course on the ass and go home!.
The marshal on the gate has an entry list in her hands so shouts me, "well done Andrea!" as I round the corner. Sprinting through the field, Matt is there shouting, "Go on Trep, Tick in the box" and I say it's more like a cross in the "never-again" box. Splodge splodge down the muddy track, over the dismount mat and up to the finishing line where I make boo-hoo faces at the camera and grab TSK for a big hug and a lovely photo.
Runtime 3:09:20. 292/334
Overall 8:00:43 289/334.
For the record, it's been pissing it down for weeks and in North Yorkshire on Friday, rivers were bursting their banks and flooding villages, the Bob Graham fell run had been cancelled and the Great North Swim delayed 24 hours from Saturday to Sunday. We weren't even sure if the race was going to go ahead but the organisers posted on facebook that they were on their way over to the Lakes, so we packed up the vanu, drove through thick fog and lashing rain to get to the Lakes and set up camp, in the rain of course.
A quick trip to the pub after dinner set me even more on edge for raceday as the river was gushing through the village at about 1m/s and the wind had picked up again and was throwing the lake into a choppy swell. I didn't really want to do ADIL again without the full swim and I definately didn't want to face up to the prospect of doing one really HARD duathlon.
Sleep was as intermittent as it usually is on a campsite. Having to decide whether you *actually* need a pee in the middle of the night and weighing up the pros and cons of waiting for it to stop raining before you go. I went and peace was restored with the help of earplugs to drown out the sound of the rain on the roof of the vanu.
Mercifully, raceday dawned dry (I hasten to add, not clear) but also the howling wind had dropped and the lake was pan-flat. The only panics were some last minute toolbag packing and making sure the air pressure on my tyres was correct. I considered using the track pump but decided that whatever pressure drop had occurred since Scisset would probably benefit my grip on a wet day so settled for a well-practiced squeeze of the tyres which seemed 'hard enough'.
Matt Hartley wanted to know my thoughts for the day to which I responded, "finishing". Aparently he wanted a prediction on the weather which was basically, it will rain eventually.
As we got into the water it became apparent that the water temperature was not, as announced, 13 degrees C. I think they might've meant Farenheit - or possibly Kelvin. I knew I would have to get around fast to avoid the cold setting in and slowing me down even further. As my swimming is still quite weak, I decided to use my legs on the swim too, hoping that the extra body-heat I held onto would make me faster in transition and on the bike.
The green hats started first and without further ado (to give us the best chance of not dropping out) the orange hats were started as soon as we had assembled.
The excellent call on behalf of the organisers was to move the course of the swim. If we had followed the usual route across the lake and back we would have been crossing that surge of water exiting the lake into the river. Instead they directed us directly South - against the current close to the edge of the lake where the current is lightest. Then returning North further offshore with a little bit of a tail-current on the way back. Spotting the buoy was tricky as we were on more-or-less an out and back course so the buoy was approximately 750m away but there were sailing boats in between which I used for sighting. It was nice to see lots of people on the campsite, lining the banks to cheer us on - something you don't get on the usual course.
It was hard-going because everyone spread out quite a lot. I kept trying to jump on feet or get in a group but I would lose people quickly and suddenly find myself alone in between two groups so I just did the best I could. I checked my watch at the buoy - 15 minutes. Pleased with that but knew that I needed to keep going fast . At the second buoy there was quite a cluster of people so I felt quite happy that I wasn't dangling out the back on my own. We'd even caught up a green hat who turned out to be quite a good swimmer but rubbish at sighting so probably swam about 2.4km to everyone elses' 1.9.
The last straight was hard. At first my fingers started to claw and it seemed to take forever to get to the boats again. Once we did, the left calf twitched with cramp once or twice which is my signal to start easing-off but I just didn't want to. I tried my best to really focus on my technique but it felt totally futile as I combed at the water with my useless hands. I tried a bit of breast stroke but that was tediously slow so I sprinted for the shore after the final (starting) buoy. When I stood up to the very enthusiastic onlookers, I just said, "oh my god" and walked up the hill to transition.
39 minutes on my watch. 40:40 by the time I'd walked over the timing mat! 288/334
I took time to dry off. Although I knew I was going to get wet on the bike, it seemed like a good idea to at least hit the road damp instead of soalked and make the most of the first bit of the day. I put my arm warmers on as I figured I'd need to warm up and even had the nouse to turn one inside out when I realise I'd put it on upside down and wasn't going to get the wrist over my elbow. I am pleased with this. Sorry if you don't understand what I'm on about but I am proud of myself for this - what with the frozen brain and all that.
All of my food fell out of my jersey pockets so I stuffed what I could find back in - the home-made bag of mixed fruit and nuts that I like to refer to as my nose-bag and an energy bar. I grabbed my helmet. I didn't realise my knee-warmers had also fallen out of my pocket.
I got out of transition with a smile on my face and decided to take the first part of the course easy as a warm up.
The route alongside Ullswater is beautiful and quite flat at first. Some of the tarmac is lovely and smooth and it was very happy-making to just roll along it, quite unfussed. I saw TSK on a street corner (sheesh) looking suitably enthusiastic in his marshall's jacket.
I took the time to sort out my nose-bag and started to eat from it, passing other riders and coping with motorists that overtake without planning. Forget the no-drafting rules, in places it was like a road race with groups of 5 or 6 riders trundling along together although given the state of everyone's body temperature, it was more like a sunday club run and there really wasn't much benefit to be had from group riding. None of it was organised drafting by any stretch of the imagination.
The road gradually gets lumpier and little streams spill out across the road meaning my feet had had dry socks on for about 15 minutes before a driver coming the other way soalked me and everyone I was with form the knees down. So much for dry feet but then no point in crying over spilt rain on a day like today. I was just glad of all the soggy Fairholmes rides I've done as a warm up!
Eventually we hit the bottom of the Kirkstone pass climb. Time to stop eating, drop into the small ring and churn out pedal revs. I got a few twitches from the left calf to let me know I needed to be careful with it so I sat down as much as I could on the climb.
When push came to shove as it does near the top of the K pass, it seemed I could do anything with this calf muscle except spin it really quickly so I reasoned to keep in a big-ish gear for the rest of the day.
I caught people up, riders passed me back and got through the last section of the climb watching the legs on the bloke in front. He didn't have particularly nice legs but it took the pain away when I watched his Ironman tattoo on his calf expand and contract with each pedal stroke.
Over the top I stopped to don my coat just before a number of parked cars and riders. They were warning us of the inevitable accident on the descent and the crowds of slow descenders started to form. Me and one other rider dived into the abyss of fog and increasingly heavy rain with our eyes open and our brains switched on just in time to see someone being loaded into the back of an ambulance on a body-board, a pair of white dainty cycling shoes carefully placed by the side of the road. I understand there were no major injuries reported.
Once we'd passed them I noticed just how bad the bloody rain was, moving from an incessent hissing drizzle to a constant pattering shower.
My friend and I weaved our way down the country lanes without seeing another person until we reached the flat valley bottom avoiding major towns like Windermere and Ambleside. I resumed eating, my figs, now turned to jam, which enveloped each tasty pecan that I pulled from my pocket. I yearned for the frame-top food bag we'd been contemplating earlier in the day.
The day in the lakes ride takes you through some really lovely little villages and country lanes and I wish I could recall them all to you but it did kind of blur. The rain did little to dampen my spirits to be honest because I felt reasonably warm most of the time and the flowers in people's gardens, the sheep grazing on a freshly mowed field, kestrels hunting in open ground, distracted me from the drizzle and the fact that the usual glorious scenery was slightly hidden behind the low cloud.
Finally I was at Shap climb. The temporary road works that halted us on the feed-in downhill were gone so this year I hit the bottom of the climb at a rolling 40kph.
Shap isn't steep, it's just long and I was well into my smallest gear very soon, still suffering from the after-effects of the swim. I had a brief chat with a woman with blonde hair about how our races were going so far. I said I'd left it all in the lake and was slowing down but my only target was to get onto the run and finish the damn thing. "Once past the aid station, there's nothing anyone can do to stop me finishing" I said.
A bloke with a posh accent asked me if this was Shap and "are we at the end of all the major climbs". "Yes", I said, "you can let rip now".
As things started to level out, I caught blonde lady up again. The fruit and nut mix had just kicked in (finally) and mojo reappeared. Unlike last year's fiasco of lost energy drinks at the aid station, I soared by, happy in the knowledge that I had all the fluids and energy I needed and I could get to the end of the bike.
Blondie and I flew off down the hill together, me finally passing her as my downhill stance proved ever so slightly more effective at cutting through the wind - though my max speed on the descent was 3kph slower than last year at 59.
I got a bit chilly on the descent so I flattened out on the tri bars and bashed out the next few kms along the A6 and then back onto minor lanes as far as Askham. Through Lowther Castle I was stopped to a halt on the beautiful park lanes by gamboling lambs. Honest to god I could've 'ad 'em for dinner wee barstards.
I also got cattle-grid fear after a near miss at Fairholmes 2 years ago and several people caught me up.
22km further didn't seem like much when I looked at my Garmin but then I realised it was another hour at this pace so felt a little more reticent. When it got to 10 miles to go I started timetrialling. I wasn't going particularly fast but fast enough to stay warm and focussed enough to stop the boredom setting in, to prevent my brain shutting down muscles. It helped as I caught up Ironman-leg again.
Just to spur me on, with 10km to go, it started absolutely pelting it down. Marshalls were giving warnings about going too quickly around corners and they meant it. On the straights I just enjoyed myself. It was like cyclo-cross - but smoother. I didn't have to worry about getting wet feet on the run - they were already absolutely soalked and were only going to get wet again on the hillside.
Despite this philosophy, by the time I reached transition it had stopped raining and I had already planned which bits of kit in the box I was going to change into and dry clothes and knee warmers were high on the list of priorities.
Expecting to see TSK at the dismount line and waiting with a comedy pun in my mind about his "dismount here" placcard and pizza restaurant adverts, I had to zip my lip when I realised it was actually the organiser holding the placcard.
Bike time: 3:57:05 257/334
I didn't bother to change my socks but the soggy tri top and jersey came off and dry baselayer and run vest went on. My wet waterproof went in a pack pocket and as I reached for the knee-warmers I realised I also had full-length leggings in the box. Those went on to protect my calf muscles from further damage. Joy oh joy! My running shoes had been cooking inside the box in what little sunshine had fallen on the field and they were WARM!
Consolidated by warm feet and dry clothes I threw my emergency pack on my back (stored with the back-side down so it would stay dry in the rain) and ran up the field. Yeah baby RAN!
I managed to run all the way along the flat bit then walked up the hill. Not all the way - but most of the way. I ran an 'ickle tiny bit. Once at the top of the first climb it's a long, flatish stretch across the fell with great views over the lake and it's a nice surface to run on.
I put my coat on because not only was it raining again but the wind started to whisk across the top of the hillside and it was a bit chilly. A couple of other runners did the same and were probably thankful of the organiser's insistence on an emergency kit for this event. As I met a marshall indicating the turn onto the descent, it was raining so hard I asked her to do her best to make sure it didn't quite turn to hail. She agreed to do her best.
The most fun part about this years run was knowing (at least most of) the course. Last year I tried to keep my feet dry at first because I usually try to keep them dry if I can. This year I knew that eventually you have to get wet feet so I didn't bother trying which meant no bog-hopping, no jumping over streams, just chugging on - only checking to make sure you're not going to turn an ankle or end up in up to your knees.
Last year I found it very difficult to contemplate a half marathon after everything that goes before. I still do but it is quite amazing that once you're in a rhythm, it feels like you've just set out. The pain of the bike ride is gone from the legs and you can just get back to running.
The blonde lady caught me up again and we ran together all the way down the descent talking of where we live and what we do for fun and which events we're into. I think she made me run a bit faster for a while and whether that was good for my race or bad (I was properly spent well before the end), I certainly enjoyed it more fer her company.
I stopped to put my coat away and dig some energy beans out of my bag and away she ran into the bog and was lost to me. To my relief the aid station arrived quite quickly and I got to wave to Matt Hartley on his way down to the finish line. He gave me good notice of the boggy sections across the top of the fell ahead which I was glad of as it meant I didn't need to look for the easy way around - just get on with it. I smiled and said that it was what I was into!
The run (walk) up Fusedale was lovely - a quiet hidden valley that can't be seen from Ullswater. It's green and has a river running down the middle. The fells sweep up to the sides and the steep climb out of it proffers a wonderful view of the surrounding peaks. It had actually stopped raining so all was good with the world. I stopped and sat on a rock to remove a large boulder from my shoe. I walked most of the way around Fusedale head chatting to a Mancunian from Flixton which was a desperate shame since I actually wanted to slink off behind a rock for a pee. We pondered together how much further this run could keep going up and checked the Garmin for confirmation that it couldn't be much further.
Onto a big open pasture and the boggy bits that Matt had warned me of. I enjoyed this bit, striding out away from the Manc lad and running the downhills. I caught up the scotsman and some others before we rounded the best corner of the day. Exiting fusedale you're suddenly on the otherside of the fell which made up one valley-side of Fusedale. On this other side it sweeps downwards at 60 degrees to Ullswater, around 500m below. The path takes a daring slant down this hillside over rocky outcrops and slippery slopes, ferny fields and torrential rivulets. Me and the Scotsman bounced down it and he whooped, saying, "They call this a run!?" as I sunk onto my hands to launch myself off a miniature crag. As I fumbled down a grassy slope I reaffirmed my love for my fell shoes as I looked around me at the litter of slither-marks made by flat soled trainers. I stopped laughing when we hit the very vertical final descent to a marshal with a dog who, up until yesterday, should've been TSK.
A few hundred metres back down the road and the course veers up again on another fell track. I'm still scouting for somewhere to relieve my poor bladder but the walls are unsuitable and the ruin turns out to be someone's house. I can't get onto the road with my bladder this full. Eventually, a suitable rock outcrop presents itself and I descend into the grass to momentarily flash my bits to the other runners and the Ullswater steamer trundling up the lake 200m below me. I really hope no-one on that boat had their binoculars focused on the race! I'm welcomed back to the race by a stream of people checking I'm OK and I have a big smile on my face. Definitely "better".
Around the hillside and it's back to the aid station. Unlike last year, they have a few car loads of water bottles left over and they seem more concerned with that than offering me water or telling me which way to go but that's OK because I can do this bit. I practiced it last year.
Actually the cattle grid is still scary.
Running. On the road. Not my fave thing. The church is nice. There's a grassy bit. Then you're on the lake shore. The captain of the steamer is wading up the path to the launch in his wellies (yes that's right, he's wading up the path) and gives me a smile and tells me I'm doing well. It ocurrs to me just now that he's seen my bum earlier but I will let that lie.
I'm doing OK, I'm still running along the road. Running running running, hurty hurty hurty. Ow. No. Can't do that. Ow. It's not that my legs hurt, it's that my hips are refusing to hold up the rest of my body. Perhaps its muscular. I'll take a look in my rucsac and see if I've put any ibuprofen in there.
Ohhh!
thank!
God!!
I!
did!
2 down. Wash down with water. Bit of running. Bit of walking. The pain is easing.
The little muscles at the top of my thighs that make my legs move forwards don't work anymore so I am using my hips to kind of throw my legs forwards, walking like someone with a mild degenerative disease. The paid is easing. Some people pass me saying they've had energy gels. Perhaps I will just have one (they make me violently ill if I use too many). Should I take one with the drugs? I do. I think it speeds the uptake of the drugs and the pain eases some more. I wonder how far I have to go? I am concious of not just meeting the cut-off time but being well inside it. I have too much self respect. I have put too much into this to be close to the cut off time.
Garmin says...
you have 5km to go and if you can do it inside 30 minutes you will have done a 3hr 22km run at the end of everything else. BLOODY GARMIN!
Running. Crap.
I catch someone up who says, "don't catch me up, then I'll have to start running". I say, "you really don't have to. I'm running because it's personal." Nevertheless, off he ran.
Someone else caught me up, a small lady just jogging past. No walking just running. All the way, bloody running. I've stopped running on the up hills. Just walk the up hills, and the down hills. Running on the flat bits. We can do that. I've run out of up hills and downhills so I have to keep running. I can see campers but I can also see boats so that means it's not my campsite. A car comes past with the window down and the passengers shout encouragement. I see another campsite, still not mine. Garmin says 3km to go.
Finally I can see the green army tents on my campsite and I have a sneaky walk as my legs really can't do it anymore but I know they will have to because as soon as I round this corner... yes, there they are. Three kids, all dressed in waterproofs and they're clapping. I focus on red coat and for every clap of her hands there is a a foot fall. Slap slap slap my flat and crappy feet on the tarmac. The pain is gone, all eyes are on me and I am there, I am doing it, I am finally going to kick this course on the ass and go home!.
The marshal on the gate has an entry list in her hands so shouts me, "well done Andrea!" as I round the corner. Sprinting through the field, Matt is there shouting, "Go on Trep, Tick in the box" and I say it's more like a cross in the "never-again" box. Splodge splodge down the muddy track, over the dismount mat and up to the finishing line where I make boo-hoo faces at the camera and grab TSK for a big hug and a lovely photo.
 |
| Vest on backwards - what a pro. |
Runtime 3:09:20. 292/334
Overall 8:00:43 289/334.
Saturday, May 05, 2012
2012 April Stats
Swim -Still Nada. I have summarily failed to achieve 2/3 of April's targets.
Bike - 349.75km (without the use of an Audax, this is good), 15kph (wtf), 7313m el. The elevation is happy-making.
Run - 40.47km, 8.3km/hr, 1237m. That's better
April's targets:
To get some swimming in there. Fail
To get the run distance up to 13km per run. Check
To bump the bike speed up. Fail again.
May's targets:
Up to 20km run
Swim!
Sort out bike speed.
Bike - 349.75km (without the use of an Audax, this is good), 15kph (wtf), 7313m el. The elevation is happy-making.
Run - 40.47km, 8.3km/hr, 1237m. That's better
April's targets:
To get some swimming in there. Fail
To get the run distance up to 13km per run. Check
To bump the bike speed up. Fail again.
May's targets:
Up to 20km run
Swim!
Sort out bike speed.
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