What sport incorporates competitive shoe-changing? Extreme catwalk? Nope, duathlons and triathlons, that's what. This group of sports incorporates a bizarre collection of secondary attributes if you want to make it big; rubber-banding your shoes to your bike, spending all your salary on an aerodynamic bike and then fixing your number on you in such a way that it flaps about like a wind-anchor, having a watch/gps/hrm thing that beeps so much it sounds like R2D2 has hitched a ride - I could go on.
Anyway, despite the advice of my physio, I rode the DB Max Chilly Duathlon today. Preparation was hardly ideal - 30 minutes running in total since Christmas, no fast riding either, only putting tri bars on the bike the day before with no chance to see if I can actually ride the bike with them on. And a party until 1 am the night before.
I rocked up my usual three hours too early, got the bike out and then wandered around trying to shelter. The wind was howling off the course and thin but penetrating rain soaked all my clothing within minutes.
The 10k running race that took place beforehand gave some sense of the conditions out on the motor racing curcuit, and the commentator referred repeatedly to the wind down the back of the course. I can't say it filled me with excitement but I had vowed to take it steady in order to avoid further inflaming my grumbly achilles and so I could go at whatever pace I wanted.
We lined up, and then without warning we were off. Like a kid in a playground I shot off too fast, threw my intentions in a puddle and got all competitive - like I always do. However, lack of fitness soon pulled at my legs and I calmed down ready to enter the transition for the bike section.
On with the next discipline; the shoe change. Not very speedy due to lack of rubber bands to hold the shoes on the bike (the postman had been hinting - he often drops rubber bands in our garden when delivering letters) and then that weird run cyclists do when wearing cycling shoes, toes up, legs bent, back arched. What I hadn't considered was how slippery wet things are. I got to the section where you are allowed to mount your bike, my foot slipped off the pedal and down I went, blocking the way for all the other competitors. I finally got off the ground/water and set off, determined to restore the lost places.
My goodness it was wet out there! The surface was a slick and anyone who had decided to wear their super-expensive shades would be cursing because the rain blew in our faces like a documentary about Cape Horn. The first bend was terrifying - it is quite tight and we were all terrified of the wet surface. The only strategy was to freewheel round in a wide arc grimly muttering 'shitshitshitshit'. This worked for me but not a teammate of mine who sailed off the road into the mud. Subsequent laps saw me entering the corner wide and then cutting in - much more successful. Mind you, the person who dropped the gel wrapper right at the corner wasn't popular with me as these high-tech banana skins could take you out before you saw them. And when I say 'take you out', I don't mean a candlelit meal, I mean rub you along the track at speed while the riders behind pile into you. To be avoided.
The threat of cramp in my calves meant I never really got beyond training-ride speed for most of the cycling, but I did enjoy pretending I was going fast by making gasping noises and crouching really low over my bars when overtaking some slip of a girl on a mountain bike with a basket. In fact, I reckon I cycle to work faster. Spray jetted up from all the bikes - I don't know why they told us about the drafting rules - why would you want to get that close to a mobile power shower aimed at your face?
Off the bike in the second transition and racked my bike. Lost my shoes. Lost my storage box - it had blown away in the howling wind. Found my shoes, re-racked my bike in the proper place. Pretended I meant to keep moving my bike around like it was some new strategy invented by the Brownlees, finally put my shoes on and bad farewell to my bike.
The second run was ok. My physio told me that this was the time when my achilles would be hurting because fatigue leads to poor running, and I should consider dropping out at that point. Drop out? Don't think so. I think the previous sections had been taken so steadily that I still had some energy - in fact I know that because after I finished I could still jog comfortably instead of looking like an animal with a broken leg. Round the corner toward the finish line, a quick look back to ensure I wouldn't have some bugger scream past me in front of everyone, and a comfortable run over the line making sure I looked athletic in case the photographer was there like some sort of war correspondent recording the anguish.
Overall, a great day, enhanced in some perverse way by the conditions. I was pleasantly surprised that I could compete despite absolutely no training. I will admit to cycling twice a week, but my running shoes have not been put on at all since Christmas until this last week. I think that is quite an achievement.
These events are nicely inclusive; there are runners and riders of all types and because you are mostly on your own it doesn't matter. It is quite nice to pretend you are competing with the racing snakes who come jetting past on their BMC carbon thingies, and I am happy to maintain that illusion, despite knowing that if I went for a ride with them we wouldn't be together for very long - maybe 12 seconds or so. However, I finished 62nd out of 232; hardly my usual aim of the top 10% but not at the back either.
What would I do if I actually did some training? I am going to have to find out because I have entered their Brecon Titan to raise money for St Peter's Hospice, I don't think I will be able to apply the same lacksadaisical approach.
Sunday 21 February 2016
Sunday 7 February 2016
Evans Ride-it sportive with added moistness
Some days just aren't cut out to be a cycling day, and today was one of those. The Evans Ride-it Sportive; 70 miles with the start in Bristol all sounded great, but the February date clearly included some risk of poor weather. Well, it didn't disappoint!
I wasn't going to back out: after all I have loads of winter cycling kit and I hadn't attended my usual training session yesterday. I just needed to ignore the weather and get my butt out there.
As I pulled into the car park the dashboard thermometer said 2c, but that felt optimistic when I pulled myself away from the car heater - the rain occasionally morphed into hail and my hands were freezing before I had registered. However, there was a significant number of people there including myself...........
Listen friends, I have been sat here trying to write this for an hour now, and nothing. So, here are the important bits. It was f**cking cold but warmed up later. My gloves turned into sponges. I ate 6 small pieces of flapjack. My legs are tired, but what do you expect from 70 miles including Burrington Combe and Dundry? I went for a pee but I was wearing so many clothes that I couldn't, umm, find myself. Oh, and there was a cow wandering across the road at the top of Burrington. It was a great day.
The rest of the afternoon has been spent staring at my laptop and wondering whether the skin on my face will ever recover. Just in case you get in a debate with yourself about going out in poor weather, get out there - wear merino baselayers, your best jacket and an optimistic smile and all will be fine.
Photos to follow, although I noticed the photographer had his super-expensive camera in a plastic bag so don't expect the resolution to be too sharp.
I wasn't going to back out: after all I have loads of winter cycling kit and I hadn't attended my usual training session yesterday. I just needed to ignore the weather and get my butt out there.
As I pulled into the car park the dashboard thermometer said 2c, but that felt optimistic when I pulled myself away from the car heater - the rain occasionally morphed into hail and my hands were freezing before I had registered. However, there was a significant number of people there including myself...........
Listen friends, I have been sat here trying to write this for an hour now, and nothing. So, here are the important bits. It was f**cking cold but warmed up later. My gloves turned into sponges. I ate 6 small pieces of flapjack. My legs are tired, but what do you expect from 70 miles including Burrington Combe and Dundry? I went for a pee but I was wearing so many clothes that I couldn't, umm, find myself. Oh, and there was a cow wandering across the road at the top of Burrington. It was a great day.
The rest of the afternoon has been spent staring at my laptop and wondering whether the skin on my face will ever recover. Just in case you get in a debate with yourself about going out in poor weather, get out there - wear merino baselayers, your best jacket and an optimistic smile and all will be fine.
Photos to follow, although I noticed the photographer had his super-expensive camera in a plastic bag so don't expect the resolution to be too sharp.
Tuesday 2 February 2016
My latest challenge, and I mean challenge
So, I have announced to anyone in the world who will listen that I have entered a triathlon in the summer, to raise money for St Peter's Hospice. But not any old triathlon, oh no: more like one that comes under the category of 'stupid'. The Brecon Titan seems to give off strong hints about its toughness in its name - 1.2 mile lake swim, 60 hilly miles plus a half marathon distance run to close things. I have spoken to a number of experienced triathletes about it and the most common response is a raising of the eyebrows and questions about my previous triathlon experience. None.
So why have I potentially wasted the £100 entry fee, planned to spend loads of money on kit that likely won't be used ever again, and ruined my spring by being compelled to train all waking hours? Well, for starters, my friend Heidi suggested it and I felt that after she had entered, my refusing to enter would be a massive slur on my sporting capabilities. And of course, I could raise money by encouraging people to give me money as an act of sympathy.
One month after entering, here is where I am;
Good things;
1. I can actually swim front crawl without drowning (even if a bystander might think I look as if I am)
2. There is still a lot of time before the big day. In addition, the organisers have planned a 'dry run' (ie. no swimming), complete with camping, so I can familiarise myself with the cycling route
3. I have entered some other events in the build-up, thus providing some structure to my Spring.
4. It is good to have a decent challenge rather than something I could already do (see Bristol Half)
5. For the first time in my life I have a bit of time as I am currently working three days per week - plenty of time to actually train
6. I have been going to the triathlon club swimming sessions (twice so far, that must surely qualify me as a regular). They do view me as a charity case, but surely it is good to do something that is outside my comfort zone for once. I am meeting new people, although I have discovered that swimming desn't lend itself to casual chatting - water pours in your mouth. The changing room afterward seems to be full of people in their own little world and everyone changes in silence; presumably something to do with the sensory-deprivation nature of being in the pool with covers over your eyes and a hat sealing up your ears. Oh well, one or two were chatty before we got in
7. There is a cool machine for drying your costume. Drop the offending article in the machine and it spins it so dry that you can put it in your work bag without any deleterious effect on random papers, or more importantly your lunch. Which in the case of triathletes seems to be seeds and strange protein shakes
8. Cycling, unsurprisingly, is going well with a few sportive rides under my belt already, not to mention an exhilerating couple of hours at the local velodrome
Bad things;
1. I have irritated my achilles tendon. The physio is talking about months to heal - no running at all
2. As above; it is such a big setback it deserves two points
3. Swimming is torture - I can't do it, I am the slowest in the training sessions I go to and there is nothing to look at. Forget all that getting inside your head and it being meditative nonsense - it is just boring. The only thing that enlivens it is the constant fear of being overtaken. I just need to apply the cyclists' rule number five (google it)
4. Every time I cycle anywhere it is either icy or pissing with rain, or both, and always dark. My life teeters in the balance with only a rack of expensive rear lights between me and being splatted on the main road to Weston-super-Mare
5. I have some weight to lose - I know because I looked at the other swimmers this morning, then caught myself in the mirror. Yes yes, seals aren't exactly stick-thin, but they only compete in the first discipline. All the other swimmers seem to be so broad-shouldered and lean that they look like an upside-down Toblerone for Weightwatchers. I on the other hand, look like a pregnant twig
To sum up, I am planning more than I am carrying out, mainly due to my injury. This could place the whole project in danger, although I suppose I could just do the first two disciplines and drop out before the one I am fastest at - not much of an option. Only time will tell. In the meantime I am carrying out heel raises, glute strengtheners, twisty things, and using the foam roller on my back twice a day - even at work.
Swimming needs work - I need to attend the training sessions, and I also need a coach who won't chortle and splutter when they see me - let's call it inclusive practice.
I'll try to update as I go along. And I'll try to remember why I am doing this. As Jenny and I both thought during the Bristol Half, running is a lot easier than finding out you are dying of cancer.
Please consider a donation to Karin's tribute page as payment for the entertainment you have received in reading this; I need to raise at least £18,000 to pay the hospice back for the treatment Karin received.
http://www.stpetershospice.org.uk/support-us/tribute-pages/tribute-for-karin-dixon-wilkins-81/
So why have I potentially wasted the £100 entry fee, planned to spend loads of money on kit that likely won't be used ever again, and ruined my spring by being compelled to train all waking hours? Well, for starters, my friend Heidi suggested it and I felt that after she had entered, my refusing to enter would be a massive slur on my sporting capabilities. And of course, I could raise money by encouraging people to give me money as an act of sympathy.
One month after entering, here is where I am;
Good things;
1. I can actually swim front crawl without drowning (even if a bystander might think I look as if I am)
2. There is still a lot of time before the big day. In addition, the organisers have planned a 'dry run' (ie. no swimming), complete with camping, so I can familiarise myself with the cycling route
3. I have entered some other events in the build-up, thus providing some structure to my Spring.
4. It is good to have a decent challenge rather than something I could already do (see Bristol Half)
5. For the first time in my life I have a bit of time as I am currently working three days per week - plenty of time to actually train
6. I have been going to the triathlon club swimming sessions (twice so far, that must surely qualify me as a regular). They do view me as a charity case, but surely it is good to do something that is outside my comfort zone for once. I am meeting new people, although I have discovered that swimming desn't lend itself to casual chatting - water pours in your mouth. The changing room afterward seems to be full of people in their own little world and everyone changes in silence; presumably something to do with the sensory-deprivation nature of being in the pool with covers over your eyes and a hat sealing up your ears. Oh well, one or two were chatty before we got in
7. There is a cool machine for drying your costume. Drop the offending article in the machine and it spins it so dry that you can put it in your work bag without any deleterious effect on random papers, or more importantly your lunch. Which in the case of triathletes seems to be seeds and strange protein shakes
8. Cycling, unsurprisingly, is going well with a few sportive rides under my belt already, not to mention an exhilerating couple of hours at the local velodrome
Bad things;
1. I have irritated my achilles tendon. The physio is talking about months to heal - no running at all
2. As above; it is such a big setback it deserves two points
3. Swimming is torture - I can't do it, I am the slowest in the training sessions I go to and there is nothing to look at. Forget all that getting inside your head and it being meditative nonsense - it is just boring. The only thing that enlivens it is the constant fear of being overtaken. I just need to apply the cyclists' rule number five (google it)
4. Every time I cycle anywhere it is either icy or pissing with rain, or both, and always dark. My life teeters in the balance with only a rack of expensive rear lights between me and being splatted on the main road to Weston-super-Mare
5. I have some weight to lose - I know because I looked at the other swimmers this morning, then caught myself in the mirror. Yes yes, seals aren't exactly stick-thin, but they only compete in the first discipline. All the other swimmers seem to be so broad-shouldered and lean that they look like an upside-down Toblerone for Weightwatchers. I on the other hand, look like a pregnant twig
To sum up, I am planning more than I am carrying out, mainly due to my injury. This could place the whole project in danger, although I suppose I could just do the first two disciplines and drop out before the one I am fastest at - not much of an option. Only time will tell. In the meantime I am carrying out heel raises, glute strengtheners, twisty things, and using the foam roller on my back twice a day - even at work.
Swimming needs work - I need to attend the training sessions, and I also need a coach who won't chortle and splutter when they see me - let's call it inclusive practice.
I'll try to update as I go along. And I'll try to remember why I am doing this. As Jenny and I both thought during the Bristol Half, running is a lot easier than finding out you are dying of cancer.
Please consider a donation to Karin's tribute page as payment for the entertainment you have received in reading this; I need to raise at least £18,000 to pay the hospice back for the treatment Karin received.
http://www.stpetershospice.org.uk/support-us/tribute-pages/tribute-for-karin-dixon-wilkins-81/
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