Days that go by

Life is sometimes a bully. It grabs you by the ear and yanks you into a miasma of days that float by with a thousand things to do.

When that happens, the bike sits, sad, in the garage.

From here. Rocky Mountain Biker

I want  a  break from burying myself but that doesn't mean I want a break from doing things so today I finally got back on my bike.

I needed a break from Brexit and it cheered me up. I felt happy for a few things and found the occasional positive spin and  was able to laugh at it. I have never cared less for politics to be honest.  As a francophile I am all European. A dedicated innie. I just refuse to be sad over  politics life is too short.

But back to life and self absorbed mumbo jumbo. It's all it ever will be since it's mainly my diary on the world. If I ever grow old enough to become somehow immobile I can sit in a chair and read my own story.

Sometimes I do it now and often I learn something that I had forgotten about. 

But the story of how I did my second Ironman will take a little longer to come out because I am so tired of making progress and measuring progress and capturing progress that I forgot to enjoy riding my bike, running and swimming in the lake and god, do I hope I haven't missed summer! ?

I washed my mountain bike on Tuesday. I have been itching to ride it since but I had to wait for my body to catch up with recovery - first physically and then mentally. 

I  feel like I am in much better shape compared to post-Forestman which makes me really happy, given how tough the Kielder course is (and was on the day).

On Wednesday my body had recovered but my head was shot. I jumped at every little thing and swore violently,  like my life depended on it, when I lost something.  I lay awake staring at the wall and then finally got up to sulk at the Internet. You know when you realise that some people are unimportant and undeserving of the stress they cause you.  When you try to face their hatred with love and they throw it back at you?  No?  Oh just me then.

I tried to get to yoga on Thursday but slept in due to the late night. Thankfully a visit from Glyn put me in the right frame of mind to do some light vigorous cleaning and I went to bed moderately exercised, tired and ready for a great sleep on Thursday night. 

My ride home tonight in fading light with no actual attack on my personal space  (mental or physical) from motorists really was the best end to the day. I got slightly mucky on the canal bank, had to climb over a tree and then rode over curbs all the way back to uni, giving my mtb a bit more of the urban experience than she is used to.  I should have had lights on really but judge me on that after we've  nailed this big contract. 

Two hungry hairy faces met me when I got home. The cats are happy not to be left alone tonight and they're going to be allowed in the bedroom. 

There's nothing I have to do this weekend but I am going to have a day to myself and then go and hang out with TSK and his team at the Shenington  24 hr race because for once I am going to amuse myself watching other people suffer then I am going to go  back to work and pick up my job on Monday, EXACTLY  where I left it. While I don't aspire to make that too much of a habit it's one I can  enjoy in the short term. 

I lied, I guess washing the mud off my legs is also kind of a thing I have  to do. 

Pre-Ironman Ride

The pre-ironman ride was the most terrifying part of this weekend. I haven't ridden my bike in a week and I haven't ridden that bike since it came back from Lisbon 3weeks ago... but mainly because the last time I did a pre-ironman ride, I realised something was wrong with me.

Today I took a  turn out of the drive and under a disused railway bridge then set  off along a lovely quiet bike network route. It was a bit rough on my tt bike but the surface was ok really. Better than Cornish lanes.

I  was only supposed to ride for 20 minutes but as I said I have done nothing on the bike for ages so I gave it 30. Having reached the high point on the lane, The least I could do was drop it down to the river and enjoy the ride back over the hill on my return.

By the time I had ridden a couple of undulations and started worrying about exposure to some magical fatigue I was feeling really happy to be back to riding on small,  beautiful lanes. Well away from the race route and anyone else. It was like just being out for a ride! Can you imagine it?

After 15 minutes, despite not having reached the river, I turned around at a farmhouse and stopped for a moment to appreciate the silence, except there's always someone,  somewhere,  mowing a fucking lawn.

I  was straight back to a hill climb but unlike last time I just powered up it. Sure, with the lack of bike training, it was nothing special and I could feel my swimmers arms more than my bike legs, but I rode up every slope with my breath still in tact. I  also noticed that the massive boil I had on my bum which has prevented me from riding was no longer hurting in the slightest. Phew!

As I crested the final climb I realised where I was.  Right before me was that damn road. The grassy slope before me was the start of the last 10 miles of tomorrow. I took a photo and descended to lunch.

The green slice in the middle is the Dam

Before Ironman

How do I feel about Kielder long distance triathlon?

Trepid.  Pretty much sums it up.  I’m not nervous as such.  I’m not sure I’m confident either.  Confident implies some sort of surety that I am going to finish – but I’m just not sure.  If you ask me if I feel confident – I’ll say yes because I’m so relaxed and I feel like I’ve done most (not all) of the training I planned… but I’m not sure – not sure I’ll finish, not sure I’ll enjoy it.  I’m unsure about many things but mostly they come down to: not being able to finish the swim again (trying not to let history rule my fears) or getting timed out on the bike or getting timed out on the run. 

Most other things can be fixed.  If my bike breaks, I’ll fix it.  If I can’t run, I’ll walk.  Time (or rather speed) and water temperature are my biggest fears.

On a secondary scale – being driven mad by biting midges is also up there but I am confident that I can suffer this better than some others and I have “Smidge” with me.

2016 Ironman Credits

Andrew – Chief support crew, patient of my Iron-moods, chief nutritionalist and sounding-block.

Mum and dad – for their early foundation in sport and ears to listen and the voice of encouragement and criticism when I need it.

Norton Wheelers – the best bike support network I could wish for and the toughest rides on my “easy” weeks.

Team Accellerate – Size 9 womens shoes, Colin for no-nonsense foot beds, Houghboy – shop banter and inspirational stories, Debs – retail and race-head support, Pete – for cruelty (with kindness) to my beaten muscles and the in-massage banter and a new-found enthusiasm for triathlon – you are this year’s pass-it-forward.

Claire Smith – For inspiring me to try.  It’s your fault I’m here.

Becky Loftus – Foundation of Ironman support.  If it’s Claire Smith’s fault I did it once, it’s your fault I did it twice.  Thank you for putting me up in your home as I pass and thereby keeping my training on track.  Thank you for the running company and encouragement.

Vicky Stott – for reminding me that anything is possible when you put your mind to it.  “I can’t run" – my arse!

Lucy Kircher – for making me at home in Brighton where I had a lovely training weekend away and for injecting some intelligence into my recovery.

Genevive Whitson – Lifestyle inspiration.  For inspiring me to follow my dreams.

John, my boss – For attending all those customer meetings when I was on holiday playing triathlon.

Liz Cain – for listening to my swim dramas and understanding the dad / daughter thing.

Mum and dad in law – for understanding my training disappearances during family celebrations and keeping me company at Guildford swimming pool.

Yorkshire and Doncaster Outdoor Swimmers – For being there, making Yorkshire’s lakes accessible, the banter and the cake, tea, chips.

Sport Sheffield / S10 Gym – for being the best, most relaxed, most convenient.

Fiona Kesteven and Cas Kay – For being familiar faces and GB buddies.  I have something to aspire to next year.

Lisbon and Tri England – for the most amazing distraction from Ironman training at the perfect time.

Lynn Bland for introducing me to fell running and to Dark Peak Fell Runners to inspire me to keep coming back.  I might not be an active member but it’s the intention that keeps me going.

Jo Jebb, Helen Elmore, Ruth Marsden, Sarah Harrison and Kate Morris.  What a network.

Sheffield Teaching Hospitals – Without them I might not be alive and they put up with a lot of crap and paranoia from me.

To all the mountain bikers, dog walkers, road bikers, runners and occasionally motorists who have made my training that little more enjoyable with encouragement or just a hello.

All the café owners who have been open and therefore, made my day.

All the marshalls, organisers and other volunteers of races.  Without you there is nothing.

The chasers, the being chased.  Fellow competitors.  Without you there’s no racing. 

Iron Spirit

In the absence of the mojo to write about Sunday - or to sleep... at all... this week, I leave you with this photo which encompass everything I feel about Ironman racing.  Captured by the event photographer at the weekend.  I am so glad this is over and yet at the same time I miss it in my life.

Time, Feeding, The Comfort of a Dry Robe & Undying Support

And yet, in a glimmer of hope, I took 4 whole minutes off my marathon run time.

On my way out.  Notice how I'd only taken one glove off!

Coming together

I am 1kg heavier than I have been in a long time and it is all good. I have reached 5 on the scales setting which is muscley, not just average.

Dammn. This tapering lark is working.

Last run of week 19 done on a Monday

It might be late but it is done. 10 miles. Hopefully not too late and I will recover in time but I feel so ready for a sleep it can't be a bad thing and so, tapering... Properly.