After a few weeks of making the most of the lockdown situation I have run out of steam.
This weekend I should have been in the Keilder Forest - cancelled. Nothing to train for
In 6 weeks I should have been in Scotland - cancelled. Nothing to train for
In July a race I have been meaning to register for - for years... I could go on... (not cancelled yet but good luck with that).
The 3 Peaks Cyclo-cross - who knows?
It's not that I only ride my bike to train though. I just haven't felt like riding my bike this week (since Monday). It's like I needed a massive rest.
I read a Twitter thread last night on the interpretation of the Government guidance which states, "If you *need* to go out for exercise". I have happily concluded that, this week, I did not "need" to go out for exercise. In fact I felt relief that the article gave me an excuse to have been a lazy bastard all week. (not lazy, I've done a ton of work).
I have not been sleeping terribly. I admit, I have not been sleeping well. About the only thing I miss about exercise is the desperate *need* to go to bed, the, "I'm gonna be asleep by the time my head hits the pillow" kind of tired. Instead, I lie in bed looking at the insides if my eyelids and turn over at least 3 times before actually going to sleep - whilst TSK (still riding his bike) is dead to the world next to me.
I tried, on Tuesday night, to get motivated - remembering the list of events to come (tentative or not). It worked briefly and then was forgotten about. The sun has remained out all week and my bike is running perfectly. Even my knee pain is gone but still, motivation remains illusive. The only thing that motivates me is a nice long ride.
I have plotted long routes out to the Welsh coast and back and thought a lot about adventures to come but I can't execute them. Right now I could murder an Audax or a weekend in the Lakes... even a weekend riding to the Lakes.
Today it is the weekend and I have no excuses left. I am tempted to go further afield to finally sate my desire to pop over the hill but "over the hill" lies a tourist hotspot and so I remain tempted not to become part of the problem. The other temptation is to do laps of my own valley to get my long ride in. It sits well within my personal rules but I'm not sure I can take it. What irks me more is I'm not sure I even want to.
My strength exercises have taken on a renewed level of fresh as I've had to adapt them to my sore knee, reverting more to yoga and less reliance on weights. I can do them in my loft or in the back garden and man alive(!) I can feel the difference. I have often thought I'd do quite well in solitary confinement. This is my time. That said, I've had no motivation to do those either - finally making it out the door on Thursday evening for one quick session in the garden.
On Monday when I went out for my last ride, I passed an old Triathlete friend - now rocking the 75s category in the worlds. He was running well (for a 75 year old). He wouldn't appreciate that as he has the brain of a 24 year old. All his races have been cancelled this year. As a newcomer to his age category he'd finally qualified again after a few years coming last in the 70's category. His aim is, "to come out of this stronger".
Last time I ran I caused my knee problems... but then I took on too much.
So maybe I'll move my focus this week. Stop being work-driven and start being more Al. If I can't be more Mike, I might as well be more Al.
I'll go and get my bike out.
Showing posts with label Triathlon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Triathlon. Show all posts
Saturday, April 18, 2020
Friday, June 17, 2016
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.
And yet, in a glimmer of hope, I took 4 whole minutes off my marathon run time.
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| Time, Feeding, The Comfort of a Dry Robe & Undying Support |
 |
| On my way out. Notice how I'd only taken one glove off! |
Saturday, August 15, 2015
A good old bit of stats
Last year I wrote this about my Celtman Training:
Training since November:
Swim - 24 miles 34hours 8mins.
Bike - 1782 miles 159 hours 41 mins 24.8km climbing.
Run - 388 miles 88hours 20 mins 14.2km vertical climb.
or a total of 281 hours training
This years 8 months of training for Olympic tri does not look too much different in some alarming ways but has been much more fun:
Swim - 21 miles 30hours 45mins.
Bike - 1748 miles 159 hours 11 mins 24.2km climbing.
Run - 224 miles 50hours 14 mins 8.3km vertical climb.
or a total of 289 hours training
Training since November:
Swim - 24 miles 34hours 8mins.
Bike - 1782 miles 159 hours 41 mins 24.8km climbing.
Run - 388 miles 88hours 20 mins 14.2km vertical climb.
or a total of 281 hours training
This years 8 months of training for Olympic tri does not look too much different in some alarming ways but has been much more fun:
Swim - 21 miles 30hours 45mins.
Bike - 1748 miles 159 hours 11 mins 24.2km climbing.
Run - 224 miles 50hours 14 mins 8.3km vertical climb.
or a total of 289 hours training
Sunday, May 17, 2015
Slateman 2015 Race Report
I stood on the edge of the lake next to one other person. I couldn't hear the crowd of people behind or the commentator or any of the gaggle of yellow-hats bobbing in the water in front of us. I looked at my watch, timing my race entry to perfection. She squelched her feet nervously in the mud. I held my hand out to a complete stranger and said, "together?"
This is Slateman.
We walked into the water, me urging her forwards. Her, dangling from my hand like a faithful yet almost-forgotten teddy bear, both of us being a little soft about our feet on the hard rocks beneath clear slate quarry water. I stepped off the edge, stumbling up to my chest in cold water. I must've been well warmed up because 11 degrees felt like nothing. She babbled excuses about getting in at the last minute but the commentary confirmed it was the last minute and I pulled her forwards, coaching all the time. First slow the breath so the brain works... 35 seconds... now swim... slow the arms down so they work... a last hug and I whisper, "relax, you'll be amazing" in to a stranger's ear and reach the back of the yellow hats as the countdown to the start hits "7".6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.
KLAXON!
I am not used to seeing my hands, never mind the bubbles that mark others' feet but I can see the calluses on soles and the make of sock people have chosen. I swim to enjoy myself and am amazed to find I am with the group as I exit the water. At a 500m swim it is all out of the way before my fingers have even had chance to separate, though that soon changes in transition as I try to put my socks on.
Having ridden the mountain passes in a coat and fleece the day before I opt to race in knee warmers and a thicker long sleeve jersey so my transition time is Ironman pace. I have changed my pedals so I can revert to cyclo cross mount on the bike. I have already rallied the crowd with the call of, 'hup hup' and I get a few cheers for my efforts. It all slows down from here.
http://eventimagesbymelparry.zenfolio.com/p402586694/h46a4b0e4#h46a4b0e4
I really enjoyed the hill climb. I have done it once and know to pace myself but also that it's not dreadful and there are some roaring tail winds. A lot of people pass me on the steeps and I pass them back when the gradient eases. Over the top I still feel like I am with the same people except for all the savage athletes who are mental enough to do 2 days of racing this course and are catching me from their wave, 10 minutes behind mine.
I throw myself over the top in the middle of the road, trying to avoid other's nerves and vying for position. It's difficult to apply drafting rules here, that is certain. A mild quantity of breaking for the junction then back on it for some more descending where I decide I need new gears cos I am out of spin while others pedal calmly by.
At the next hill climb I start to see familiar faces and am having one of those, "only me", "me again", conversations with several people. They're passing me but again, once I get into my rhythm I start passing people back. Charlotte Jenkinson buzzes me on the climb and I stretch out my hand for a handshake as she passes. "I won't see her again", I think.
The PenYPass climb eventually levels out at Lynn Ogwen but I'm more focused on doing some damage on the easy bit where everyone else is recovering. There's a couple of short climbs and then I get to throw myself at the very windy downhill. I'm so glad I practised this yesterday because I know I can stay on the tt bars so long as the wind isn't any higher. It's not and I glide down, trying hard to pass someone sitting on the tops of his drop bars and weaving all over the place. We go around 2 bends with me whispering "on your right" in his ear which seems to encourage him to pedal like mad to speed up instead of pulling over. I finally glide past behind a faster ride as we turn a 100 degree junction. I call out to my faster friend to take care on the bumpy road surface. We've gone from a velvety dream to a pot-holed village nightmare which I reccied yesterday but my fast friend holds his nerve and we pedal on. I am soon surprised to be giving Charlotte some stick for letting me catch her up. I only have to wait for the next climb to see her again and the descent off that is not so scary so I have no chances to take back my lead. The next time I see her will be the finish line.
I've been saving myself for the final climb - the col du petrol station. It's a perfectly symetrical hill only 150m in elevation but it's at the end of the ride so feels like a 1:5 (actually, bits of it are). I stopped on it yesterday to buy some Lucozade but today I have to cruise past the petrol station and carry on. At least I know it's only 2 miles to the finish of the bike and I am glad because the saddle is starting to rattle my bones.
One last flourish jumping off the bike with one toe touching the ground just before my front tyre crosses the dismount line. Showboater? Me?
I wish I could say I quickly changed into running shoes but I only removed one knee warmer so have to take one trainer off and put it on again - mainly to avoid looking like a numpty, not really caring about being too warm. I take my run transition a bit easy with lots of people passing me now. I'm used to this. We head down the path past the steam train, thinking we're going to have a classics moment here but the race diverts under the railway bridge as the train passes over head and then we're into the wilderness of... the visitor car park. It's not exactly inspiring and I'm starting to lose the will to live until we cross the road and start to queue over a small bridge waiting for a gate crossing. The water beneath looks lovely and deep and I ask if anyone wants a swim.
The chap next to me is passing everyone and chivvying us along. Another man says, "there's a way to go yet lad". "We're only running to the top" he says and we all agree not to laugh too loud when he gets cramp.
It's fast out to the start of the quarry climb and I keep passing the same bloke with cramp as I offer to sell him a gel for £85. I'm glad he doesn't accept as I need it myself. I can confirm that ZipVit Rhubarb and Custard flavour is not nice. The element of taste that is supposed to be rhubarb just tastes chemically. I think I'll stick to the blackcurrant, though I have got the kiwi one to try. It still did the trick though I did spend a lot of time running with it in my mouth, not actually consuming it for quite some time because the quarry was robbing me of all of my efforts.
The quarry has a time trialled section which I decided to do my best on. I knew I stood little chance of achieving anything but wanted to see what I could do and assumed (foolishly) that the rest of it was downhill.
I played tag with a bloke wearing a number that said he was called Grant. I walked a couple of sections and was distraught to be passed on a hill climb by a woman from Norwich Tri club. I finally crossed the mat at the top next to the big guy in the forest who said he was just running to the top. Clearly his lift down hadn't shown up and he was walking out a cramping hamstring.
I ran on and passed two girls with a birthday cake singing happy birthday to each other and a couple of climbers considering an E8 route up a slab in the quarry. These little things that you take in to relieve your mind of the pain.
The down hill didn't worry me except for the bits where it went up again. I was capitalising on what little competitive advantage I have of being a confident descender but Grant and a few others kept catching me back - especially on a stretch of concrete road which suddenly went up at 1:5 for 50m. There were a lot of us walking that and a lot of people still running. Down the other side of it and we nearly had to run over the top of a Nissan Micra clawing its way out of the valley. To be honest it would've been easier to run over than run around.
Finally we crested a small hill and heard the distant commentary in the valley. A lady passed me and I passed her back a few seconds later on what I could see was the last short climb of the day. This was my sprint. I sat behind Grant, joking with her that "poor Grant, I have been dogging him all day." Then quickly went on to explain that I didn't mean that in a sexual sense - just the old fashioned meaning of the word. Greg said he was too knackered to do anything about it anyway so we should all just forget I said that.
There's about 600m of cruel road and solid track at the end of the run. A short hill climb where some very enthusiastic supporters had cleverly camped out to cheer everyone up the climb and on to the finishing straight which is a long gravelled path. You cross the railway line and suddenly get hit by a wall of noise - spectators cheering us home. I admit I had to choke back a wave of emotion. My legs were feeling it and I had given this race a good go. I didn't see but heard Andrew shout me and I surged for the finish. I was momentarily aware of someone sprinting alongside me so sped up well out of my comfort zone for the last 3 metres. It wasn't really worth it as he was in a different wave but there again, showboating.
I did several laps of the finish area before allowing my legs to stop. Marshalls were trying to catch my timing chip and I had to remember to eat food and chase down my finisher's slate. Priorities.
There were 59 in my age category and I rocked in 26th. I was 91st woman of 180 - narrowly missing out on the first half by one place. With many more men taking part though, I was 889th overall of 1216.
Swim - 13:46 763rd - 93rd female - 27th FV40
Bike - 1:55 825th (shocker) but - 65th female - 19th FV40 - YESSS! Top third.
Run - 1:17:50 862nd - 95th female - 31st FV40
Turns out I was 65th woman on the climb up through the quarry and 20th FV40. I was 737th overall - my best positioning throughout the whole race, despite the run being my worst overall position.
We retreated to the tipi to change and check out.
This is Slateman.
We walked into the water, me urging her forwards. Her, dangling from my hand like a faithful yet almost-forgotten teddy bear, both of us being a little soft about our feet on the hard rocks beneath clear slate quarry water. I stepped off the edge, stumbling up to my chest in cold water. I must've been well warmed up because 11 degrees felt like nothing. She babbled excuses about getting in at the last minute but the commentary confirmed it was the last minute and I pulled her forwards, coaching all the time. First slow the breath so the brain works... 35 seconds... now swim... slow the arms down so they work... a last hug and I whisper, "relax, you'll be amazing" in to a stranger's ear and reach the back of the yellow hats as the countdown to the start hits "7".6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.
KLAXON!
I am not used to seeing my hands, never mind the bubbles that mark others' feet but I can see the calluses on soles and the make of sock people have chosen. I swim to enjoy myself and am amazed to find I am with the group as I exit the water. At a 500m swim it is all out of the way before my fingers have even had chance to separate, though that soon changes in transition as I try to put my socks on.
Having ridden the mountain passes in a coat and fleece the day before I opt to race in knee warmers and a thicker long sleeve jersey so my transition time is Ironman pace. I have changed my pedals so I can revert to cyclo cross mount on the bike. I have already rallied the crowd with the call of, 'hup hup' and I get a few cheers for my efforts. It all slows down from here.
http://eventimagesbymelparry.zenfolio.com/p402586694/h46a4b0e4#h46a4b0e4
I really enjoyed the hill climb. I have done it once and know to pace myself but also that it's not dreadful and there are some roaring tail winds. A lot of people pass me on the steeps and I pass them back when the gradient eases. Over the top I still feel like I am with the same people except for all the savage athletes who are mental enough to do 2 days of racing this course and are catching me from their wave, 10 minutes behind mine.
I throw myself over the top in the middle of the road, trying to avoid other's nerves and vying for position. It's difficult to apply drafting rules here, that is certain. A mild quantity of breaking for the junction then back on it for some more descending where I decide I need new gears cos I am out of spin while others pedal calmly by.
At the next hill climb I start to see familiar faces and am having one of those, "only me", "me again", conversations with several people. They're passing me but again, once I get into my rhythm I start passing people back. Charlotte Jenkinson buzzes me on the climb and I stretch out my hand for a handshake as she passes. "I won't see her again", I think.
The PenYPass climb eventually levels out at Lynn Ogwen but I'm more focused on doing some damage on the easy bit where everyone else is recovering. There's a couple of short climbs and then I get to throw myself at the very windy downhill. I'm so glad I practised this yesterday because I know I can stay on the tt bars so long as the wind isn't any higher. It's not and I glide down, trying hard to pass someone sitting on the tops of his drop bars and weaving all over the place. We go around 2 bends with me whispering "on your right" in his ear which seems to encourage him to pedal like mad to speed up instead of pulling over. I finally glide past behind a faster ride as we turn a 100 degree junction. I call out to my faster friend to take care on the bumpy road surface. We've gone from a velvety dream to a pot-holed village nightmare which I reccied yesterday but my fast friend holds his nerve and we pedal on. I am soon surprised to be giving Charlotte some stick for letting me catch her up. I only have to wait for the next climb to see her again and the descent off that is not so scary so I have no chances to take back my lead. The next time I see her will be the finish line.
I've been saving myself for the final climb - the col du petrol station. It's a perfectly symetrical hill only 150m in elevation but it's at the end of the ride so feels like a 1:5 (actually, bits of it are). I stopped on it yesterday to buy some Lucozade but today I have to cruise past the petrol station and carry on. At least I know it's only 2 miles to the finish of the bike and I am glad because the saddle is starting to rattle my bones.
One last flourish jumping off the bike with one toe touching the ground just before my front tyre crosses the dismount line. Showboater? Me?
I wish I could say I quickly changed into running shoes but I only removed one knee warmer so have to take one trainer off and put it on again - mainly to avoid looking like a numpty, not really caring about being too warm. I take my run transition a bit easy with lots of people passing me now. I'm used to this. We head down the path past the steam train, thinking we're going to have a classics moment here but the race diverts under the railway bridge as the train passes over head and then we're into the wilderness of... the visitor car park. It's not exactly inspiring and I'm starting to lose the will to live until we cross the road and start to queue over a small bridge waiting for a gate crossing. The water beneath looks lovely and deep and I ask if anyone wants a swim.
The chap next to me is passing everyone and chivvying us along. Another man says, "there's a way to go yet lad". "We're only running to the top" he says and we all agree not to laugh too loud when he gets cramp.
It's fast out to the start of the quarry climb and I keep passing the same bloke with cramp as I offer to sell him a gel for £85. I'm glad he doesn't accept as I need it myself. I can confirm that ZipVit Rhubarb and Custard flavour is not nice. The element of taste that is supposed to be rhubarb just tastes chemically. I think I'll stick to the blackcurrant, though I have got the kiwi one to try. It still did the trick though I did spend a lot of time running with it in my mouth, not actually consuming it for quite some time because the quarry was robbing me of all of my efforts.
The quarry has a time trialled section which I decided to do my best on. I knew I stood little chance of achieving anything but wanted to see what I could do and assumed (foolishly) that the rest of it was downhill.
I played tag with a bloke wearing a number that said he was called Grant. I walked a couple of sections and was distraught to be passed on a hill climb by a woman from Norwich Tri club. I finally crossed the mat at the top next to the big guy in the forest who said he was just running to the top. Clearly his lift down hadn't shown up and he was walking out a cramping hamstring.
I ran on and passed two girls with a birthday cake singing happy birthday to each other and a couple of climbers considering an E8 route up a slab in the quarry. These little things that you take in to relieve your mind of the pain.
The down hill didn't worry me except for the bits where it went up again. I was capitalising on what little competitive advantage I have of being a confident descender but Grant and a few others kept catching me back - especially on a stretch of concrete road which suddenly went up at 1:5 for 50m. There were a lot of us walking that and a lot of people still running. Down the other side of it and we nearly had to run over the top of a Nissan Micra clawing its way out of the valley. To be honest it would've been easier to run over than run around.
Finally we crested a small hill and heard the distant commentary in the valley. A lady passed me and I passed her back a few seconds later on what I could see was the last short climb of the day. This was my sprint. I sat behind Grant, joking with her that "poor Grant, I have been dogging him all day." Then quickly went on to explain that I didn't mean that in a sexual sense - just the old fashioned meaning of the word. Greg said he was too knackered to do anything about it anyway so we should all just forget I said that.
There's about 600m of cruel road and solid track at the end of the run. A short hill climb where some very enthusiastic supporters had cleverly camped out to cheer everyone up the climb and on to the finishing straight which is a long gravelled path. You cross the railway line and suddenly get hit by a wall of noise - spectators cheering us home. I admit I had to choke back a wave of emotion. My legs were feeling it and I had given this race a good go. I didn't see but heard Andrew shout me and I surged for the finish. I was momentarily aware of someone sprinting alongside me so sped up well out of my comfort zone for the last 3 metres. It wasn't really worth it as he was in a different wave but there again, showboating.
I did several laps of the finish area before allowing my legs to stop. Marshalls were trying to catch my timing chip and I had to remember to eat food and chase down my finisher's slate. Priorities.
There were 59 in my age category and I rocked in 26th. I was 91st woman of 180 - narrowly missing out on the first half by one place. With many more men taking part though, I was 889th overall of 1216.
Swim - 13:46 763rd - 93rd female - 27th FV40
Bike - 1:55 825th (shocker) but - 65th female - 19th FV40 - YESSS! Top third.
Run - 1:17:50 862nd - 95th female - 31st FV40
Turns out I was 65th woman on the climb up through the quarry and 20th FV40. I was 737th overall - my best positioning throughout the whole race, despite the run being my worst overall position.
We retreated to the tipi to change and check out.
I have pre-registered for next year.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Allerthorpe Post Race Analysis - Back on a high note.
I have to write these down before I forget.
Before races:
I continued for a while at a steady pace, keeping below my alarm limit of 173 but I was just getting passed a lot. When someone came past me who was going only slightly faster, I dropped in behind him as he was a good size for me to draft him. The extra heart rate of 180 bpm (anaerobic now) was offset by the reduced effort of running into the wind. I reassured him that I couldn't keep it up, stuck with him for about 5 minutes then dropped away again when we hit the sanctuary of hedgerows.
 |
| Thank you to my lovely family-in-law |
- Check tyres are OK & change / repair as necessary.
- Charge your garmin(s)
- Awkward things to remember to pack - number belt, track mitts, sweat band, hair bobble, HRM
- Remember to set up the HRM settings on your Garmins - screens, alarms
- Check the lock laces on shoes
From today's race - learnings
Swim - went off a bit fast but not too bad. I need to focus on upping the time which I can hold that pace. All in all though, I am really glad with my performance. I managed to hold on to a few people but let it go and swim on my own when I needed to take it easier.
Bike - Didn't know what HR to hold and my HRM kept telling me my HR was too low. I guess I had it set to 4 minimum and I was mostly riding at 3.5 to 3.8. Thing is, that's actually 4.5 to 4.8 so I was nearing my assumed threshold. I backed it off to 3.5 to see me through the event but that did feel a bit slow so I upped it again. It translated to around 20 mph on the bike so that was a bonus compared to previous PE rides. To conclude on this, zone 4.8 is about right for being close to threshold for me. I now need to concentrate on going faster in this zone and also coping well with occasional sorties above that threshold. I can have a play with 3.9 & 4.0 in training.
Run - The run was trickier to keep an eye on. My watch kept going off at the beginning leading me to believe I also had a HR low alarm set on that. I didn't so the time I wasted walking and trying to change the alarm was truly wasted. I seemed to settle down into a pace although I could only look at average HR because I hadn't set my screens up properly. I eventually found my HR and realised that the alarm was going off because HR was high... so I need to do more Brick sessions then...
I continued for a while at a steady pace, keeping below my alarm limit of 173 but I was just getting passed a lot. When someone came past me who was going only slightly faster, I dropped in behind him as he was a good size for me to draft him. The extra heart rate of 180 bpm (anaerobic now) was offset by the reduced effort of running into the wind. I reassured him that I couldn't keep it up, stuck with him for about 5 minutes then dropped away again when we hit the sanctuary of hedgerows.
When two miles was called on the run, I tried to lift my pace to keep the number of people passing me to a minimum. It wasn't too difficult to do and although it made my HRM sing out, it felt do-able. With 1 mile to go I checked the time and estimated I could beat my PB if I strode out to an even faster run. Unfortunately I couldn't keep it up longer than 1 minute and my legs started to ache and people started to pass me. It wasn't a major event today (although a very important part of my recovery) so I backed off and waited until the final leg into the finish before releasing the finish beast!
The finishing beast was not strong enough to keep a couple of athletes at bay but it was enough to stop most of them from passing me. My sprint finish started just before turning off the road and no-one else passed me. Nor did I catch anyone. It was 3 minutes long but felt like a lifetime.
Things to do before my next race:
- set up the screens on the run watch so that I have the information I need - like actual HR.
- More brick bike-run sessions.
- Sub Th workouts to improve speed & consistency.
- Super Th workouts to get accustomed to accelerations & to make speed attacks stick.
- Endurance swim speed sessions in the water. Work on speeding the third lap from 10:30 to 9:30 then all laps to 9:00
- Look up how much time I was able to hold the finishing pace that I attempted with 2 miles to go and work on extending it. Max HR duration 5 minutes at 180.
- Check the bike HR settings for sub- and super- threshold limits based on today's performances. Aim to keep 3 Peaks HR lower than that.
Swim: 29:07 average SPM = 53 Laps: 9:00, 9:33, 10:31 (T2011 - 29:45)
T1 - 4:27 Forgot gloves and went back for them in this weather! (T2011 - 03:56)
Bike - 1:16:52 Z3 - 12:29 Z4 - 59:05 Z5A - 2:04 Z5B - 0:44 Z5C - None - how very restrained! (T2011 - 1:12:52)
T2 - 2:48 Left helmet on & forgot to switch to lock laces! (T2011 - 02:42)
Run - 1:01:46 Z3 - 0:55 Z4 - 37:30 Z5A - 13:28 Z5B - 9:48 Z5C - 0:14 (T2011 - 57:41)
Placings:
Overall - 198 /
Women - 34 / 49
Women AG - 9 / 13
Placings:
Overall - 198 /
Women - 34 / 49
Women AG - 9 / 13
Though I claim I could advance at least 8 places based on the number of people having a little walkie during the swim and the large peloton that passed me on the bike course.
Monday, March 18, 2013
First race of 2013 tri season
I wasn't going to bother with racing this year and instead focus on the distance training I need to just complete the Ironman, never mind do it with any finesse. I'm just not good at letting racing lie. I don't pretend to be fast or competitive, (if I was I would train harder), but you stick a number on my back and put me next to another competitor and I am the most competitive person there is and I thrive on it. A season without racing for Trep would be a bumpy miserable one and like Margaret Thatcher without a handbag or the queen without a hat.
So a number of tester events have been organised including the inaugural Derwent Duathlon, both on my home turf and with an off-road twist which appealed.
The problem with the DD, (it could have been a bonus really) was it was on my usual summer training ground. No accommodation or travel to book weeks in advance, just get out of bed and roll to the course. I didn't even clean my bike and only thought about my crumbly nipple and the fact I hadn't pumped the tyres up when I got to transition. There were lots of Sheffield Triathlon team mates out so we had quite the huddle going on with Matt, Bob, Glyn, Sylvia, Sal, Dave and Rob.
With two laps of the bike course there were lots of opportunities to cheer each other on, which we did with gusto. Varying from "go on Trep" to "go on Sheffield" to "bleureughagagaghhh" or " ble ble ble" (pronounced with a higher-pitched voice), all shouts were appreciated.
The first battle I had was with a grey-haired lady who insisted on passing me on the run... just. She would lurk, just ahead of me, taunting me to pass her back... which I did. I'm not sure if she relaxed after passing me or if I upped my game every time she passed but after the third embarrassing time, I decided to take the opportunity to pace myself (conscious decision and yet, being honest - I knew I didn't have the energy to go after her again). Still, I knew I would get her back on the bike.
TSK was waiting for me at the bottom of the last hill so I said, "let's get this party started and gimme a bike."
I had to steady my spinning head in transition, especially as Sal and Sylvia appeared just behind me but I managed to change my shoes without wobbling too much. I could hear Nancy cheering on Trep but was so much in the zone (not sure which one) I was only able to recognise her, not really acknowledge her. Sorry Nance, it was good to see you.
Cyclo-cross riders always recce their starts and this was no exception. The chance to leap on the bike in the perfect gear and get going, even on a hill... especially on a hill. Yes please. The opportunity to do a 180 turn on a single track road without dabbing was a very particular skill worth showing off on this course. Thanks John Staniforth for the encouragement.
We haven't got the split times so I don't know how many I passed on the bike but I reckon around 20 based on my 30th position on the road run and my final placing minus 3 who took me back on the fell run. No one passed me except one girl who underestimated the value of slipstream and quickly succumbed again.
The ride was two laps of a course I usually only do once. I had to remind myself of that but I quickly forgot and did too much, leaving me little to put into the fell run. That is a skill I'll need to perfect for Forestman.
Although I bounced out of transition, I soon found myself in company. Far from turning it into a death battle, I sated myself with chatting to the bloke behind, saving myself for my next session and enjoying the view. I let him go on the downhill realising there was nothing left in my legs.
I wasn't massively impressed with any of my times but I was very satisfied with my placing. I beat people I didn't expect to and was 2 percentage points out of the top 50% when I usually aim for 66%.
Comparing it to previous Derwent Duathlon training with the club, it's no surprise the ride was the slowest with twice the distance and poor, early season road and weather conditions. The road run was, however the fastest with me getting my heart rate under control after 12:30, by which point I am usually done with running at our club sessions.
Whilst the legs suffered from the speed and were still lagged with fatigue on the start line, I really enjoyed myself and bounced back enough for a recovery run today.
Very glad I entered a race. Perhaps it and its friends will make up for the resounding lack of enthusiasm for independent speed training in my sessions. Perhaps I will just have a really good season, in spite of or as well as a really good Forestman race.
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.
Tuesday, September 06, 2011
Helvellyn Triathlon Notes
I had an amazing day at Helvellyn. Sadly, the effort made me quite ill so at the moment my enthusiasm is dulled and I doubt that this post will do it justice.
The day before the race was torrential - no other word for it. I was glad I ordered a hoodie as I needed something to wear underneath my raincoat at registration.
The race day dawned clear and we watched the mist rise off a still Ullswater as we racked our bikes.
I managed to get through the swim in less than half an hour although the jog over the line into transition has me at 30 minutes 28 seconds.
For a mixed gender open-water swim it was quite civilised. We couldn't see the first buoy for the sun shining in our eyes so I think the entire pack swam a slight loop around to the buoy so there was a bit of swimming over eachotehr as half the pack fell into the shade and started to steer towards the buoy and the other half continued in a random direction.
As we rounded the buoy, quite a lot of people took it easy and steered wide so there wasn't much fighting. As I swam away from it, I saw the seond buoy and the pack stretched out ahead and felt tired and disjointed. I started to worry that I'd misread the instruction, that it was a long swim but before I knew it I was on the second buoy. I managed to sit on someone's feet most of the way around, making the occasional effort to stay in contact. As I reached the peir my hands froze and I reverted to combing the water with my splayed fingers so consequently I used my legs more to drive me towards the finish.
In transition I couldn't find my lightweight socks so stuck my fell running socks on under my cycling shoes. Annoying 5 minutes for transition. Someone noticed and asked me if they were my lucky socks.
Out on the bike I weaved my way through people dragging their shoes along the ground on their bikes or wiggling around and finally jumped on 15m beyond the mount line. It was 45 minutes before I got warmed up, riding over the 1st climb in 1st gear, wondering how on earth I was going to get up the struggle a bit later on.
When I did warm up I settled down, making sure I was enjoying myself and saving myself for the rest of the day - The Struggle and Helvellyn. There was a shady ride along the side of Thirlmere which made me shiver before the climb upto the AA phone box which was my trigger to take an energy gel to let it sit in my belly and get me up The Struggle.
We turned into The Struggle and I relaxed. I knew once I was here, there wasn't much to go. This time I went straight into bottom gear, not saving the gears this time - saving my legs instead. After the first kick, I gave some advice to a fellow lady-competitor about zig zagging and got her back on the bike. We both had a little walk on the next kick as my legs started to twitch with thigh cramp.
We finally reached the flattened section for a rest then hit the final climb. Suddenly there were people watching. Teams cheered and screamed at riders still on their bikes to keep going. I put it on for the photographer and for TSK at the top, cheering and showing me his belly. As I made the turn onto the top of the Kirkstone pass my face muscles were twitching from grimacing and smiling.
An efficient and skillful descent of the Kirstone pass meant TSK only caught me at the bottom. To be fair, I scared myself a few times. With the dry road I wasn't as cautious as last time which made me worry I was going to melt the brakes when I did use them full-on at each of the corners. If I hadn't been a skilled cyclo-cross rider there's every risk I would've skipped my wheel into the air at some points.
It's an easy ride back to transition from the bottom of Kirkstone pass although each of the little rises did hurt somewhat.
My T2 should've been quick but I spent some time unpacking some stuff from my bumbag. I also stopped off at the plastic boxes on my way out.
I jogged up to the begining of the climb, through the trees, along the river, past the vanu in the campsite then started walking at the rocky path. I figure, if you're not running, you might as well eat so I finished the energy bar I started on the bike ride and started downing rehydration fluid as it was a hot, breezy day.
When we reached the moor we all had a bit of a run to the bottom of the climb to Swirral Edge. A fellow competitor stopped for tea from a flask with her friends and I felt quite jealous. I enjoyed the climb because I'd done it before and knew there was a cairn, a pointy rock, another cairn and then I was at the ridge, the interesting bit.
I got on the heels of a mountain goat and enjoyed the lift up the craggy edge. Eventually I got hunger pangs so I stopped to try and eat something. Sitting on an outcrop above red tarn watching athletes pass me by and munching was very satisfying. Someone was skinny dipping in the tarn. As someone faltered in front of me with their footwork I took an alternate direct route, my fell shoes acting as well as soft rubber climbing boots.
I didn't take much of a topping out ceremony, I was too keen to make the most of my food and get onto the much-practiced downhill section. On the first drop off, I was looking forwards to going back up again, until I got there. On the second drop off, I was passed by one or two which forced me to run myself.
At the sharp descent - the much feared zig zags - I was doing quite well. I felt like I was running like my dad but it seemed effective. I crossed the water station (a stream) but had plenty of fluids left. Food was the issue. My tummy was rumbling but I decided I could probably make it to the finish from here. The drop down to the bunk house was starting to get painful. By the time I reached a small incline on the concrete road, my legs said no. I reverted to a walk so delved in to the last energy gel. I knew there wasn't much point in me trying to digest anything else. It worked just long enough to get me down to TSK waiting at the edge of Glenridding village but I had to apologise to fellow competitors for farting.
Once TSK had cycled past it was the crowds of folk cheering through the village and the finishing straight that got me over the line.
Whilst it was nice to walk straight into the lake in my shorts, it became clear very quickly that the cryotherapy was not going to help my feet which tend to cramp after a race. Perhaps not removing my shoes and socks was an issue but then I can't stand on rocks when I'm' fresh, never mind when I'm knackered. It took me half an hour around transition to get my stuff and change into dry shoes and socks so I could actually walk back to the van. I had to drink constantly all the way there just to refuel and regenerate enough to walk.
Lessons Learned
1. Should've taken sugarey drink and some real food on the run.
2. Any ban on plastic boxes - a replacement carrier bag should be clear so I can see the stuff in it.
3. Don't give up downhill running training - not for anyone. It will only end in days off work after the event.
4. Don't make decisions on nutrition during the event. I used more calories (2000) out of my body than I actually consumed in the day (1900) ie. total calories expended were in excess of 4000... and I don't often count calories.
Swim: 30:28, 3.2km/hr: 357/599, 44/92 Fem, 28/53 Sen Fem (target time 28:52)
T1: 05:05,
Bike: 2:36:13,14.6m/hr (23.36km/hr): 481/599, 58/92 Fem, 35/53 Sen Fem (Target time 2:14)
T2: 5:48. What? did I take a nap?
Run: 2:43:18 18:08min/mile (11:18min/km) 507/599, 73/92 Fem, 43/53 Sen Fem (Target time 2:23)
Overall: 6:00:57 (gutted!) 515/599, 74/92 Fem, 44/53 Sen Fem (Target time 5:13).
End of Season lessons
More brick training on longer sessions
The day before the race was torrential - no other word for it. I was glad I ordered a hoodie as I needed something to wear underneath my raincoat at registration.
The race day dawned clear and we watched the mist rise off a still Ullswater as we racked our bikes.
I managed to get through the swim in less than half an hour although the jog over the line into transition has me at 30 minutes 28 seconds.
For a mixed gender open-water swim it was quite civilised. We couldn't see the first buoy for the sun shining in our eyes so I think the entire pack swam a slight loop around to the buoy so there was a bit of swimming over eachotehr as half the pack fell into the shade and started to steer towards the buoy and the other half continued in a random direction.
As we rounded the buoy, quite a lot of people took it easy and steered wide so there wasn't much fighting. As I swam away from it, I saw the seond buoy and the pack stretched out ahead and felt tired and disjointed. I started to worry that I'd misread the instruction, that it was a long swim but before I knew it I was on the second buoy. I managed to sit on someone's feet most of the way around, making the occasional effort to stay in contact. As I reached the peir my hands froze and I reverted to combing the water with my splayed fingers so consequently I used my legs more to drive me towards the finish.
In transition I couldn't find my lightweight socks so stuck my fell running socks on under my cycling shoes. Annoying 5 minutes for transition. Someone noticed and asked me if they were my lucky socks.
Out on the bike I weaved my way through people dragging their shoes along the ground on their bikes or wiggling around and finally jumped on 15m beyond the mount line. It was 45 minutes before I got warmed up, riding over the 1st climb in 1st gear, wondering how on earth I was going to get up the struggle a bit later on.
When I did warm up I settled down, making sure I was enjoying myself and saving myself for the rest of the day - The Struggle and Helvellyn. There was a shady ride along the side of Thirlmere which made me shiver before the climb upto the AA phone box which was my trigger to take an energy gel to let it sit in my belly and get me up The Struggle.
We turned into The Struggle and I relaxed. I knew once I was here, there wasn't much to go. This time I went straight into bottom gear, not saving the gears this time - saving my legs instead. After the first kick, I gave some advice to a fellow lady-competitor about zig zagging and got her back on the bike. We both had a little walk on the next kick as my legs started to twitch with thigh cramp.
We finally reached the flattened section for a rest then hit the final climb. Suddenly there were people watching. Teams cheered and screamed at riders still on their bikes to keep going. I put it on for the photographer and for TSK at the top, cheering and showing me his belly. As I made the turn onto the top of the Kirkstone pass my face muscles were twitching from grimacing and smiling.
An efficient and skillful descent of the Kirstone pass meant TSK only caught me at the bottom. To be fair, I scared myself a few times. With the dry road I wasn't as cautious as last time which made me worry I was going to melt the brakes when I did use them full-on at each of the corners. If I hadn't been a skilled cyclo-cross rider there's every risk I would've skipped my wheel into the air at some points.
It's an easy ride back to transition from the bottom of Kirkstone pass although each of the little rises did hurt somewhat.
My T2 should've been quick but I spent some time unpacking some stuff from my bumbag. I also stopped off at the plastic boxes on my way out.
I jogged up to the begining of the climb, through the trees, along the river, past the vanu in the campsite then started walking at the rocky path. I figure, if you're not running, you might as well eat so I finished the energy bar I started on the bike ride and started downing rehydration fluid as it was a hot, breezy day.
When we reached the moor we all had a bit of a run to the bottom of the climb to Swirral Edge. A fellow competitor stopped for tea from a flask with her friends and I felt quite jealous. I enjoyed the climb because I'd done it before and knew there was a cairn, a pointy rock, another cairn and then I was at the ridge, the interesting bit.
I got on the heels of a mountain goat and enjoyed the lift up the craggy edge. Eventually I got hunger pangs so I stopped to try and eat something. Sitting on an outcrop above red tarn watching athletes pass me by and munching was very satisfying. Someone was skinny dipping in the tarn. As someone faltered in front of me with their footwork I took an alternate direct route, my fell shoes acting as well as soft rubber climbing boots.
I didn't take much of a topping out ceremony, I was too keen to make the most of my food and get onto the much-practiced downhill section. On the first drop off, I was looking forwards to going back up again, until I got there. On the second drop off, I was passed by one or two which forced me to run myself.
At the sharp descent - the much feared zig zags - I was doing quite well. I felt like I was running like my dad but it seemed effective. I crossed the water station (a stream) but had plenty of fluids left. Food was the issue. My tummy was rumbling but I decided I could probably make it to the finish from here. The drop down to the bunk house was starting to get painful. By the time I reached a small incline on the concrete road, my legs said no. I reverted to a walk so delved in to the last energy gel. I knew there wasn't much point in me trying to digest anything else. It worked just long enough to get me down to TSK waiting at the edge of Glenridding village but I had to apologise to fellow competitors for farting.
Once TSK had cycled past it was the crowds of folk cheering through the village and the finishing straight that got me over the line.
Whilst it was nice to walk straight into the lake in my shorts, it became clear very quickly that the cryotherapy was not going to help my feet which tend to cramp after a race. Perhaps not removing my shoes and socks was an issue but then I can't stand on rocks when I'm' fresh, never mind when I'm knackered. It took me half an hour around transition to get my stuff and change into dry shoes and socks so I could actually walk back to the van. I had to drink constantly all the way there just to refuel and regenerate enough to walk.
Lessons Learned
1. Should've taken sugarey drink and some real food on the run.
2. Any ban on plastic boxes - a replacement carrier bag should be clear so I can see the stuff in it.
3. Don't give up downhill running training - not for anyone. It will only end in days off work after the event.
4. Don't make decisions on nutrition during the event. I used more calories (2000) out of my body than I actually consumed in the day (1900) ie. total calories expended were in excess of 4000... and I don't often count calories.
Swim: 30:28, 3.2km/hr: 357/599, 44/92 Fem, 28/53 Sen Fem (target time 28:52)
T1: 05:05,
Bike: 2:36:13,14.6m/hr (23.36km/hr): 481/599, 58/92 Fem, 35/53 Sen Fem (Target time 2:14)
T2: 5:48. What? did I take a nap?
Run: 2:43:18 18:08min/mile (11:18min/km) 507/599, 73/92 Fem, 43/53 Sen Fem (Target time 2:23)
Overall: 6:00:57 (gutted!) 515/599, 74/92 Fem, 44/53 Sen Fem (Target time 5:13).
End of Season lessons
More brick training on longer sessions
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Day in the Lakes Results
Race report to follow as I want to do it justice.
I was surprised on the day to find out my run time was 1:44. I was aiming for 2:20. This was explained by me missing 7km off the run course. I realised this when I discovered that my run was the fastest in my category (senior female) and actually, the fastest of all the women. I fessed up and have been relegated to a DNF.
Overall, I was aiming to come above the top 2/3 of the field. I wouldn't have achieved this even if I had finished the run so I suppose I can maintain this target for next year. Practice makes perfect and all that.
On the bike (which was a leg-saver to be fair) I was 26th. That put me 303rd if you include the men (but if they want to blow their legs on the bike and try to show off on the Kirkstone pass then so be it).
The swim was rough - I know this. 41/50 in the women. 280th overall. Considering I put all my focus on getting up to 2000m in a nice calm lake, I'm not surprised I did badly in the power fest that was 1000m of ocean-high waves.
Chalking this one down to experience.
I was surprised on the day to find out my run time was 1:44. I was aiming for 2:20. This was explained by me missing 7km off the run course. I realised this when I discovered that my run was the fastest in my category (senior female) and actually, the fastest of all the women. I fessed up and have been relegated to a DNF.
Overall, I was aiming to come above the top 2/3 of the field. I wouldn't have achieved this even if I had finished the run so I suppose I can maintain this target for next year. Practice makes perfect and all that.
On the bike (which was a leg-saver to be fair) I was 26th. That put me 303rd if you include the men (but if they want to blow their legs on the bike and try to show off on the Kirkstone pass then so be it).
The swim was rough - I know this. 41/50 in the women. 280th overall. Considering I put all my focus on getting up to 2000m in a nice calm lake, I'm not surprised I did badly in the power fest that was 1000m of ocean-high waves.
Chalking this one down to experience.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
A Day in the Lakes (not) Half Ironman. FAIL!
Day. Lakes
On top of the months I spent training for the Day in the Lakes half ironman, I spent days getting ready for it, buying up camping equipment like it was going out of stock with the justification that it will also contribute to TSK's Paris-Brest-Paris trip. Every day, every new bit of kit was a joy. A solar shower, battery fridge and a new transition box. Everything was exciting. Loading the van on Saturday morning was a pleasure because it was all about the race on Sunday. No rush except for getting there, getting set up and getting to bed early.
The Park Foot campsite is my idea of hell with noisy children everywhere and a receptionist, no less, to book me in. She wasn't even vaguely amused by, "reporting for sadomasochism with a little bit of camping thrown in for good measure". Thankfully the camping transition field was all set aside for us and everything I had dreamt of. Clear enough to potter around the vanu getting my transition box packed and checking my bike gears. I cooked dinner indoors during a rain storm, watching tenters cook their dinner under a table then ventured out to do the dishes then check out the lake.
I was anticipating a calming experience but I've never seen 2km laid out before me so it was actually pretty disconcerting so I returned to the vanu to settle down with some knitting and a 10pm bed time on a weirdly quiet campsite.
At 4am I woke for a loo break. So wonderfully serene and almost as bright as day. I got straight back to sleep though and woke to others getting racked in transition. I kept cool and made porridge (to eat for breakfast) and coffee for my transition box to warm me up after the swim.
I admit I was in a bit of a rush filling bottles but had time to help someone else get into their wetsuit before heading to the start.
I carefully labelled my replacement bike bottle filled with sugarey drink and chucked it in the box with the others.
Good news for me was that the swim was cut to 1000 m because of the choppy water. I'd been worrying about my ability to complete the swim since I heard the cut off time was 40 minutes. Since my target was 39 minutes, you understand my dilemma.
This time I got my water entry spot on. We bobbed up and down for just enough time to get acclimatised before the whistle went. The initial throng was not too bad. I dodged one foot in the face and ignored the first drag-under but I soon realised the other competitors weren't my risk.
As we exited the harbour the waves we were swimming across were 2ft high in amplitude. Swimming crawl with any efficiency seemed impossible as I was tossed in the air by a wave then belly-flopped into the trough of another. As I went to take the next stroke I had to force my arm through the approaching wave, through the water. The words I uttered as that wave then hit me in the face when I tried to take a breath can only be described as, "splutter-fuck".
I tried to breathe on the other side and the wave broke over my head, splashing me in the face anyway.
I'm getting pretty pissed off with water by this point. It's nothing like the swell I have experienced at the sea for fun but I'm was making no progress through the race. I took to swimming breast stroke. At least that way I could keep my eye on where I was going. It seemed to work and I made progress although I did get caught by some of the "slow" group who had started 5 minutes behind us. I look forwards to reaching the first buoy and the tail wind so-to-speak.
Finally with the wind at my back and waves spread across the lake to each side of me. I enjoy it for a second or two before noticing that I can't see the next buoy and notice the canoe-ists trailing along side us starting to steer the whole pack off to the right. Oh. That would be an out-and-back swim then, back to nogging waves.
The last swim to the exit seemed to go on for ever but I finally struggled to my feet feeling worse than I've ever done after 2km. There were a lot of excited spectators and I'm sure they were enjoying the drama of everyone spluttering their way out of the lake. I told the St John's ambulance man I thought I was going to need him... and I meant it.
This time at least I remembered to undo my wetsuit. I even remembered to put on all my stuff for the bike.
On the ride, I paced myself along the banks of the lake just turning the pedals like I was out for a potter. I hadn't been to Kirkstone pass in years and have certainly never ridden up it so I wanted to save some legs. The wind which caused the waves was now blowing into my face so relaxed pedalling and a tri bar position was the order of things. Finally the hill came into view. An easy start. Whilst I could see it stretched out into the fog above, I kept wondering,"I thought there was a really steep bit somewhere?"
Two guys passed me. The first bounced by. The next struggled by, with a big belly to haul around but very impressive calves and thigh muscles. I held my pace, even saving my lowest gear for later.
About half way up the pass I noticed myself catching the big man and the earlier whippet that passed me was stopped for a rest. As I caught the big man he simply flopped into the grass by the side of the road, feet clipped in and all. "are you alright", I said, because one has time for a small conversation on these climbs.
"I'm ok", he said and waved me on. 50m later, I caught up to the whippet, still clipped in to one pedal and desperately wailing the cramp song.
My march continued and I passed the photographer who, despite pointing the camera and pressing the shutter, seems to have completely failed to record my efforts. I must've looked really rough.
The really steep bit of the Kirkstone pass never came. Whether it was my wise choice of a 30 tooth block or I'd done more training than anticipated or just that the climb is over-egged compared to those we have in Sheffield, I enjoyed the whole thing. especially the top of it.
Shrouded in fog I heard the lonesome family group of 4 spectators clapping before I saw them and they really inspired me. I knew the scary bit was over. I said my thanks and got ready for the downhills. I passed a lot of people that were nervous of the wet road and lack of visibility.
Through the corner of my conscience I saw two riders waiting for a lift after they'd both crashed. There were already others helping on the scene.
I saw a peacock sitting on a gate, resplendent with his tail cascading to the ground behind him. When we reached the edge of Keswick the sun was starting to show and the roads began to dry. The next climb didn't really start it just went on and on and on.
There was a tasty downhill with a sweeping up on the other side. There were traffic lights half way down the descent which, of course changed to red. Three of us waited patiently. I dived down before the bus and didn't see anyone else until we reached the summit of Shap Fell.
I reached for my bottle ready to exchange it for a replenished bottle of lovely tasty lime goo. My bottle was not there.
"Some of them have gone to the run station" she said, "you must've put it in the run box".
My heart screamed "what run box, there wasn't supposed to be a run box... no-one said anything about a bloody run box".
My brain, thankfully, said, "it's not her fault" so my face said, "thankyou very much ladies, see you later" and left another woman to complain at them.
What I didn't realise is it was another 20 miles back to transition. The banana and pint of water they gave me really weren't doing it. I got into transition a wreck, really not knowing how I was going to manage 13 miles of fell running especially since I had no sugary drink stashed in transition. I had foolishly put all of my faith in others but off I went and I even seemed to be going faster than some others... except for the woman I'd left to complaining, who I notice, had managed to find a bottle of sugary drink in her very light and otherwise empty bumbag.
There were only two of us carrying full kit, as per the rules and in line with the fell runners regulations. The other man was walking. I managed to run up the first hill where a lovely lady photographer was kind enough to have snapped this... And managed to publish it. Well done. She made money out of me.
Stretching out across the moor, were single runners and a hi-vis marshal impressive-looking in the heather. The temperature was about 26 degrees and the sun high. I was heavenly tired but very happy.
The descent was ok. There were a few rambling climbs which forced me to walk but it was 7km to the feed station before I got my lovely bottle of limey goodness and by that point it was 45 minutes since my last drink.
The aid station was a sight for my dry throat. The volunteers were busy apologising for running out of water but I flopped down on the floor with my carefully marked up bottle and drank and drank. Never has SIS "Go" tasted so good.
The volunteers were still busy apologising to people for running out of water when I got up to leave and set off in the wrong direction. So many others were heading down to the finish and there's rubbishy old me, convinced that my correct version of the route is wrong and actually it should be time to head home.
I check my Garmin and do some superficial calculations to check my progress. Looking back they were clearly wrong.
On the run down the road I pair up with a guy who's struggling to run the hills and pulling away on the flat. We start chatting and I inspire him to do the fast shuffle uphill and he inspires me to run faster on the flat.
I get the garmin out again and estimate there's 5km to go. The alarm bells should've gone off again when the campsite appeared around the corner within about 10 minutes. At this point I could've turned around, run back to the aid station, done my second loop and finished the race, yes in a very slow time but at least with an honest time. I was so pleased to see that campsite appear though, nothing was going to stop me.
I suppose it's a saving grace that the photographer had again packed up and gone home for a stiff beer by the time I crossed the line. There was no-one to capture my misplaced jubilant glee.
Lessons learned:
1. Switch on lap distance counter
2. recce the course. No excuses.
3. Don't rely on others, not even the race organisers.
At the end of the day this trip turned my van back into a camper instead of a removals vehicle and that is possibly the most important outcome of all.
Thankfully I was organised enough to make sure I put the food to hand and leave the bed down so when I got back to the vanu I was able to shower, eat dinner and watch the last racers finish before bedtime. At 9pm I was physically unable to remain sitting up. I wasn't in any particular pain, my body had just turned old and kept lowering itself into a rocking chair declaring, "ooh, I must sit down".
Now that's a good good day.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Full Boar Tri
I've been recovering. I wanted to be really careful after the full Boar Tri not to overdo it or do too much. With a mental work schedule and a minimal amount of time in which to do it, training has taken precedent during my time off.
The Full Boar gave me the perfect opportunity to practice for my middle distance event without killing myself to the extent of actually doing it. This is a familiar feeling from long ago being so unsure of the outcome of an event that one fears doing it before the actual day.
With a rother valley swim the day before the race I didn't want to do too much there but the water was so pleasant, I didn't want to get out either. I splashed my feet in the water and chatted to Steve Judge. I'd even managed to move myself to ride out to RV. At only 5 miles to the lake, I hardly deserve the heroic feeling that came with riding out to OW swimming so I mowed the lawn to add to the feeling of glory. That lasted until the lawn mower broke.
Before the start of the race, I got a little phased by the general chatter of qualifications events.... And this being one. I took advantage of the opportunity to get in the water before the race. Whilst this turned out to be a bad race day call (the start was 45 minutes later and they only just got the buoys out) I felt it was good for the time I am most likely to spend getting cold at the middle distance.
The swim start was good but wherever I looked there seemed to be space in front of me so I kept myself to myself for a while. My sighting was so much better than previous and when I got caught by people I took a lift from time to time though it was really difficult to keep with just one person in the murky water. It appears any progress I've made with my swimming has been in distance not speed and as ever I was close to last out of the water. However, the quality of the field suddenly dawned on me out on the bike as I completed 1/6 of the course without catching a soul.
I was cold and going slowly I thought. I got caught, caught back on the descent, thinking my legs had warmed up, then got caught again. nothing... For ages... It was the second lap before someone appeared on my radar. Two people were caught on the deceiving hills of Market Bosworth. A third was on the horizon. I made ground on the descent and passing through the park (no overtaking) and timed the capture perfectly. Right on the dismount line where passing was allowed and he stopped to fumble at getting off his bike and I sprang past with a flying dismount to TSK's call of "text book!".
T2 was disorganised to say the least. i had everything with me that I needed but I had extras and I had stuff with me that I didn't need... Like my bike pump, protein drink and gloves. I also left behind stuff that I wanted like my sunhat and sweatband. I made a trip back and I still had to drop the drink by the gate as I set off.
The comentator shouted something great about Sheffield then started talking about breadcakes.
The run hurt. There's no other way to put it. I set out fast, tempered my speed then got on with running slowly and finally warmed up. that's how it felt. What actually happened was I ran about the same speed all the way round. More encouragement form random marshalls and TSK every lap made me very happy.
As ever, when I crossed the line I was tired but I also had a bit left. Something let me jog through the car park afterwards. Something gave me the energy to sit around chatting, not just get up and wander off into my rabbit hollow to lick my wounds.
Despite trying hard, I didnt' stretch myself too much and all previous standard distance records, for me, are slashed. I was pleased to find out that I beat more people on the run than I did on the bike - so all the hard work has paid off then.
Results:
Swim: 34:33 - On schedule 72/76.Women 14/15
T1: 4:34 - Bloomin' cold fingers. (awesome! The slowest out of everyone though not a surprise as TSK noted, I still had my wetsuit zipped and hat on when I got to my bike)
Bike: 1:31:44 - taken easy 67/76. Women 10/15
T2: 2:09 Crap - ther'es someone called Adrian Childs next to me in the standing!
Run: 51:55 Toptastic - 28" on the first lap so 27" on the second! 63/76. women 11/15
Overall: 3:04:50 68/76. Women 12/15
The Full Boar gave me the perfect opportunity to practice for my middle distance event without killing myself to the extent of actually doing it. This is a familiar feeling from long ago being so unsure of the outcome of an event that one fears doing it before the actual day.
With a rother valley swim the day before the race I didn't want to do too much there but the water was so pleasant, I didn't want to get out either. I splashed my feet in the water and chatted to Steve Judge. I'd even managed to move myself to ride out to RV. At only 5 miles to the lake, I hardly deserve the heroic feeling that came with riding out to OW swimming so I mowed the lawn to add to the feeling of glory. That lasted until the lawn mower broke.
Before the start of the race, I got a little phased by the general chatter of qualifications events.... And this being one. I took advantage of the opportunity to get in the water before the race. Whilst this turned out to be a bad race day call (the start was 45 minutes later and they only just got the buoys out) I felt it was good for the time I am most likely to spend getting cold at the middle distance.
The swim start was good but wherever I looked there seemed to be space in front of me so I kept myself to myself for a while. My sighting was so much better than previous and when I got caught by people I took a lift from time to time though it was really difficult to keep with just one person in the murky water. It appears any progress I've made with my swimming has been in distance not speed and as ever I was close to last out of the water. However, the quality of the field suddenly dawned on me out on the bike as I completed 1/6 of the course without catching a soul.
I was cold and going slowly I thought. I got caught, caught back on the descent, thinking my legs had warmed up, then got caught again. nothing... For ages... It was the second lap before someone appeared on my radar. Two people were caught on the deceiving hills of Market Bosworth. A third was on the horizon. I made ground on the descent and passing through the park (no overtaking) and timed the capture perfectly. Right on the dismount line where passing was allowed and he stopped to fumble at getting off his bike and I sprang past with a flying dismount to TSK's call of "text book!".
T2 was disorganised to say the least. i had everything with me that I needed but I had extras and I had stuff with me that I didn't need... Like my bike pump, protein drink and gloves. I also left behind stuff that I wanted like my sunhat and sweatband. I made a trip back and I still had to drop the drink by the gate as I set off.
The comentator shouted something great about Sheffield then started talking about breadcakes.
The run hurt. There's no other way to put it. I set out fast, tempered my speed then got on with running slowly and finally warmed up. that's how it felt. What actually happened was I ran about the same speed all the way round. More encouragement form random marshalls and TSK every lap made me very happy.
As ever, when I crossed the line I was tired but I also had a bit left. Something let me jog through the car park afterwards. Something gave me the energy to sit around chatting, not just get up and wander off into my rabbit hollow to lick my wounds.
Despite trying hard, I didnt' stretch myself too much and all previous standard distance records, for me, are slashed. I was pleased to find out that I beat more people on the run than I did on the bike - so all the hard work has paid off then.
Results:
Swim: 34:33 - On schedule 72/76.Women 14/15
T1: 4:34 - Bloomin' cold fingers. (awesome! The slowest out of everyone though not a surprise as TSK noted, I still had my wetsuit zipped and hat on when I got to my bike)
Bike: 1:31:44 - taken easy 67/76. Women 10/15
T2: 2:09 Crap - ther'es someone called Adrian Childs next to me in the standing!
Run: 51:55 Toptastic - 28" on the first lap so 27" on the second! 63/76. women 11/15
Overall: 3:04:50 68/76. Women 12/15
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