Wet, windy, hilly, beautiful, awesome - Marathon Eryri

The weekend just gone was my second running of the Snowdonia Marathon, held in Llanberis for the past 29 years with the reputation of 'Britain's toughest marathon'.

Two years ago, by chance, I'd seen the highlights programme on s4c and decided there are then I'd enter the next year, despite atrocious looking weather.  I don't know what made me want to do it, I just knew it was the race for me. 

I'd booked myself into this race again as a post-ironman event to look forward to.  I'd done a similar amount of training to last year but my limbs were a lot wearier.  In the last two weeks, I'd had niggles in my glute and hip flexor areas and was a little worried about how they'd fare on the mountain roads.

So I found myself, for the second year running, cowering in the wind and rain in Llanberis, anxiously looking out of windows at the yet again unpleasant weather draping the spectacular landscape outside.  It was raining that drizzle that gets you wet through and sheets of it were being blown about by ghoulish sounding gusts.

There's a ten minute walk from the village to the start, so we all sheepishly left the deep-heat stinking village hall where we were all sheltering (and queueing for toilets and making coats and skirts out of bin liners) and made our way through the elements to the start line.  I joined the toilet queue again but had to abandon it through fear of being sat on the John as the hooter sounded, so said my goodbyes to Dan (who went off on his own 2 hour run) and soon enough I'd placed myself three-quarters of the way back and was excited to get started.  I was certainly more pleased to be at this start line than at the Cardiff half.

My aim for this race was to enjoy it as much as I'd enjoyed last year, to (maybe) beat my time and (perhaps) get under 5 hours (last year I did 5 hours 10) but I didn't want to put too much pressure on.

The hooter sounded and we were off.  The first mile is downhill then flat, so it was easy to get into a nice gentle rhythm.  From around 2.5 miles we start to ascend the Llanberis Pass - a 3 and a bit mile, winding road up through the U shaped valley to Pen-y-Pass.  It was pretty hard going and I was occasionally comically swept across the road by whooshing gusts.  Strangely though, at the top of the Pass, the air was still.  It was a strange sensation.

Once over the Pass, a little drink, then it was time to do some descending.  The next 3 miles or so were downhill and some of it offroad, so it was great fun.  Last year, I'd run like an old woman down this offroad section and got overtaken so many times but this year I hurtled down like a mountain goat, picking people off and flailing my arms around like a windmill for balance.  Last winter's forray into off road running had obviously helped.

At mile 8 we were back on the slighlty undulating road so it was time to get back into rhythm and maybe even push a bit.  It was around this point I started to feel real discomfort in my right hip.  It was the same niggle I'd been feeling for the past few weeks but this hurt.  My form started to go a bit squiffy and I couldn't push like I wanted to.  Other than this, I felt ok and was able to keep going.  It was the most uncomfortable I've ever been in a race though.

I shuffled my way to Beddgelert, the half way point.  I was impressed to find that I got to the 13 mile point in 2 hours 15.  Here we encountered the next hill, a 2 mile slog up towards Llyn Gadar.  This is an annoying hill as it has many false summits and for some reason, runners kept switching from the left hand side of the road to the right...and back again for no particular reason.  Despite most people around me doing the 'walk-then-run-past-me-then-walk-again-whilst-I-overtake-them-again' routine I kept running.  I'm not a fan of the walk-run concept unless it's absolutely  necessary i.e. when a hill gets too steep and it's quicker to walk up.

Next up was my favourite bit of the course, running alongside Llyn Cwellyn (it's difficult to choose a favourite bit but this takes it by a whisker).  This section was pretty flat and despite feeling some stiffness the pain in my hip was gone.  I tried to keep a good pace going and to take my mind of things I started to hassle other runners for chats.  I chatted to a girl from Prestatyn who was doing her first marathon (!!) after only having done one half marathon.  Respect to her, what a marathon baptism of fire.  Next I spoke to an American lady, who asked me if I was familiar with the course so I told her what was coming up and she gave a look of 'what have I let myself in for here?'.  I tried to stick with her, but she eventually peeled away.

I knew what was to come and had promised myself that I'd walk from the bottom of the gigantic hill from mile 22.  The village of Waunfawr took an age to come into view.  Last year, I remember catching up with an old guy who was running with his dog.  I couldn't believe my eyes when at almost exactly the same spot as last year, I caught up with him again.  The guy must be in his 70s and the dog must be the equivalent in dog years! 

The hill started to pitch up as we got into Waunfawr.  Just before I stopped running to start the march, some kindly spectators had laid out little bits of the most delicious flapjacks for us.  I tagged onto a Scottish lady this time and we kept up with eachother as we stomped and swayed our arms up the hill.  We discussed whether we'd get in under 5 hours - "hmm, it might be tight" said the lady.  This spurred me on and she evetually fell back.  As it got flatter towards the top, I started to do bursts of running, aiming for a rock or a post in a field ahead of me. I was tired by now though. 

The final descent into Llanberis had haunted my dreams for the last 12 months.  Last year, I'd gingerly made my way down the grassy trail, trying to avoid the raging torrent which had started to flow down the path after one of the many cloudbursts of rain we'd expierenced last year.  I remember so many people overtaking me and being angry at not being able to let myself go.  This year, I was determined not to be a baby and make it look like I knew what I was doing when it came to downhill trail running!

Luckily, there were no torrents this year but the constant drizzle had made the path a little muddy and slidey.  This didn't stop me though, and I charged my way down (arms flailing again).  I overtook people.  The path eventually turns to tarmac and about 2 metres from 'safety' I almost managed to go head over heels, but managed to save myself, albeit with an accompanied curse word.

Around this point was a man helpfully informing us we had 1000 metres to go.  I looked at my watch, 4 hours 54 - hmmm, can I do a kilometre in 6 minutes downhill?  So I tried to run even harder, ignoring the pounding pain in my '25 miles into a marathon' legs.

One final ridiculously steep section then I was on Llanberis High St with about 250 metres to go.  I looked at my watch - 5 hours 14 seconds.......damn.  I stopped trying so hard and got back into a jog towards the finish line.  Final time, 5 hours 1 minute 16 seconds. 

I was soaked to the bone.  I got handed a foil cover (which almost immediately blew away) and my second Marathon Eryri slate coaster.  They're my favourite race momentos.

I was a tiny bit gutted but elated at how the race had gone.  I'd smashed last year's time by over 9 minutes and I'd run how I wanted to, although I wasn't pleased with how my hip had felt.  I think if I'd been feeling a little fresher I'd have been able to push a bit harder on those flat bits.  My legs felt ruined at the end though and they're still pretty sore 5 days later.

Marathon Eryri is such a great event, quite possibly my favourite, despite how tough it is.  I'll more than likely enter nexr year, despite it being only 8 weeks after Ironman Wales.  Will I be fit and fresh enough to break 5 hours?

Cardiff Half Marathon Disappointment

I've wanted to break the two hour half marathon duck since I recorded a time of 2 hours 3 minutes at last year's Cardiff Half Marathon.  Last year's race was held on a sunny but frosty day, ideal for me since I don't like running when it's hot. I remember feeling strong all the way round and thoroughly enjoying the race. 

Cardiff has historically been a fast, flat race through beautiful parks before heading down to the picturesque Bay.  After having such a great race last year I was hoping all that training for Copenhagen would've increased my stamina and speed endurance.  Since Copenhagen, I'd done a fair amount of running, the main focus being getting the miles in for the Snowdonia Marathon at the end of October.  In my midweek runs though, I'd tried to push my pace.

The morning of the race was stress free and leisurely.  Dan and I stayed at Dan's friend's flat which was a 5 minute walk from the start.  The morning dawned grey and misty but the sun soon came through and it looked like it was going to be a warm-ish day.

I can only describe my feelings towards this race as indifferent.  I was neither excited nor nervous.  I didn't question why I was there but I had a nagging doubt in my mind about breaking two hours.   Dan would run with me and try to pace me around. 

The hooter went and 5 minutes later (!) we crossed the start line and began trotting.  I always find that people start off way too fast in races but this time, I followed the trend.  After a twisty route out of the Bay we were running up a dual carriage way towards the city centre.  At mile one, I looked at my watch - 9m20 something - hmmm, ok.  I also noticed my heart rate - way too high.  The sun had started to make an appearance and I was already beginning to feel hot.  So all in all, I wasn't too comfortable.  I felt all the little inclines and just couldn't settle down.

At around 4 miles, we caught up with Dan's friend Gwyn and the two boys started chatting.  Slowly, I started to fall back and eventually they were out of sight. 

So on I plodded hoping to settle into my running and maintain a decent pace.  Every now and again I thought I was beginning to feel good but this was false hope.  At around mile 6 the route took us onto another dual carriage way which gradually climbed up and up and on and on.  The sun shone like a torch on my head and I rued the decision to not wear my visor.

I got into a viscious circle.  I desperately wanted to get this race done so I tried to push - the faster I run the sooner this will be over - but the harder I tried the worse I felt.  I really wanted to stop and walk.

Eventually, after possibly the most boring route ever, Cardiff Bay was in sight and we were down to the last couple of miles.  By now my buttocks and hips had decided to throw in the towel and I felt like I was in shuffle-mode.  I got to mile 9 in 1hr27 (around 9.5 minute miles)......I eventually finished in 2hrs10 so in the last 4 miles I slowed to an average of 10m45 miles!!  I was glad to cross the line but not pleased at all by how it had gone.

On reflection, I think I must've been tired.  The summer of iron training has taken its toll.  I think I'll try to break 2 hours again in the Spring, hopefully after a winter of rest (well, I'll keep doing some training!).

There's one last race, however....Snowdonia Marathon this weekend.  Then, I'll rest!

Six Weeks Later....

Over six weeks have passed since I covered just over 140 miles, all on my own steam, in Copenhagen (which I'll refer to as cph).  So how am I feeling now?

It took about a month for my body to feel back to normal. 

The day after, I awoke feeling pretty sore, as expected.  In fact I probably would've been disappointed if I wasn't aching like mad. I spent the day mainly lounging around basking in a little pool of pride and satisfaction.  We went out for a walk in the afternoon and I was treated to a beer and an enormous ice-cream AT THE SAME TIME.  The most unpleasant side effect of the day before was swollen feet.

The soreness subsided within around two days. I took the next few days off training completely then very gradually started again.

The first few times I went to the pool, I found myself standing at the end of the lane chatting, enjoying bobbing in the water and knowing I didn't have to train hard now.  I'm now doing 2 club swim sessions a week as I'm keen to maintain my swim fitness over the winter and to work on my technique and strength.......an ongoing struggle it seems.  During the first few 'proper' swim sessions after cph, I felt as if I'd completely lost my swimming mojo.  I felt sloppy, sluggish and slow!  My last swim session was brilliant, however, and I came away from the pool feeling satisfied and on a little high (it was also a Friday and sunny).  I was also given instruction by Andy the coach to use the pull buoy for over half of my sets over the winter.....this will hopefully build my arm strength.

I've cycled most weekends but the pressure of having to cover miles isn't there now.  I've been out a few times with Dan, taken the BAD Tri novice group out a few times but my cycling 'highlight' since cph was riding to Cheddar Gorge and Wells to watch the Tour of Britain go by.  For some reason, I hadn't thought about the fact the a round trip to Wells would be way over 50 miles so I found myself quite short on food and drink and, by the time the race finished, motivation to ride the 25 miles home!  The ride home was mentally a bit of struggle but it was lovely none the less.  After 40 miles though, my left knee started to ache, something that first made itself known on those Danish roads.  By the time I'd got back into Bristol I was having trouble pushing down with my left leg.  A few rides later and I'm still getting some pain, so it's something to keep an eye on.  I'm not planning on cycling for a few weeks.

My first few post-cph runs scared me a bit.  My heart rate was going through the roof, especially running up hills and the runs were, in general, pretty miserable.  Like my swimming though, my run mojo is coming back, culminating in an awsome hilly run around a drizzly Bristol at the weekend.  Next on the race list is the Cardiff Half Marathon, where I'd really really like to break two hours.  I did 2h04 last year, so it's doable, but the thought of doing 9 minute miles for 13.1 miles is pretty daunting.  Two weeks later I'm doing the Snowdonia Marathon for the second time.  It was a brilliant event last year - tough but great fun and in stunning scenery.

How do I feel about having done an ironman-distance race?  Every now and again I'll remember and I truly get a warm and fuzzy feeling.  I sometimes even smile to myself about it.  Someone I hadn't seen for ages asked me what races I'd done this year and I said Copenhagen.  She asked if I'd done a relay leg.  It was immensly satisfying to tell her "no, I did the whole thing".  I was proud.

After Snowdonia I'll have NO booked up races.......that'll change soon though.  I went to watch the inaugural Ironman Wales in Tenby a few weekends back and pretty much decided as soon as I got into Tenby that I want to do it next year.  The atmosphere was electric and I'd forgotten how beautiful Tenby really is.  I'm just waiting for entries to open....

Challenge Copenhagen - The Race Report

A little over a week has passed and I'm now sat back at my desk, moping about being at work but still buzzing from the great time and experience I had last week!


The few days before going to Copenhagen felt manic.  Being at work and not being particularly busy felt like a complete waste of time as it felt like I had a load of things to do and think about before flying out.  I'm not really sure what those things to do and think about were but I sure felt a little stressed!  Add to that organising the club supporters t-shirts and co-ordinating their distribution before leaving and it all got a tad too much.  Anyway, packing, t-shirt distribution, bike sorting etc all went relatively smoothly partly thanks to the endless lists I'd written.

It was fun getting to Heathrow as one by one, fellow Copenhagen bound Bad-triers started to appear, all looking apprehensive with friends and family in tow.  After a wobbly take off, we were on our way.

Arriving in Copenhagen on the Thursday evening meant there was ample time before raceday to settle down, register, peruse the race expo and stroll around the seemingly calm, pretty city.  On the Friday morning, after the race briefing, a few of us went down to the lagoon to do a recce swim.  We considered ourselves brave souls for going in without wetsuits, especially when several jelly fish were spotted!  Martin even got stung on the leg!  Friday evening was spent making sure my bike was ok and a final practice with changing a tyre tube (something which I'd previously had tantrums over!).

I started Saturday off with a gentle 20 minute run along a part of the run course (followed by an enormous hotel breakfast).  In the afternoon, almost all the BADTri crew cycled together down to rack our bikes.  Half way there it started to rain and the wind picked up....ugh, I hoped it wasn't going to be like the next day.  Leaving the bike on the outside rack in the howling wind left me feeling quite nervous and the reality of what I was about to undertake was really starting to dawn on me.....I think I remained calm though.  Late Saturday afternoon saw a surprise visit to the Aussie pub next door to watch Wales v England rugby......I hadn't envisioned spending the afternoon before undertaking my first ironman in the pub but it was a welcome distraction.  The rest of the day flew by, and after an ample dinner at the hotel's "light buffet" it was time to retire to the room, eat the tub of ambrosia rice I'd bought with me (a tradition of mine before races) and start to really fret.  Dan and I must've watched ten episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm before it was really finally time to switch the light off and try to sleep (I think I was putting it off).  It took about an hour but I did get to sleep albeit one of those annoying 'I-keep-waking-up-to-check-the-time' sleeps but at least it was better than the half hour I'd got before my first marathon.

The alarm sounded at 3.50am. Eek. I had a shower to wake me up and feel as fresh as I was going to feel that day.  I ate my lovingly prepared slop (soaked museli!), a banana, half a bagel with peanut butter and necked a coffee and bottle of lucozade sport (another pre-race tradition).  We left en masse at 5am and made our way through the Copenhagen streets to the metro whilst being watched with bemusement by local drunk revellers.  By the time we got the the race start, it was light, the temperature was agreeable and there was minimal wind.  It was still only around 5.45 so there was ample time to faff around before race start at 7.15.

I got to my bike (which thankfully hadn't been blown away) and started to dress it with food, water bottles and my garmin.  I pumped up my front tyre.  I walked around to my rear tyre and found it to be as flat as a pancake. Hmm, weird.....I pumped it up regardless and hoped for the best.  Within about a minute, Nina, who was racked next to me went "Errr Lowri?" and pointed at a piece of infamous sharp Danish flint sticking out of my brand new Michelin tyre.  ARGH I had a puncture!  Cue a mad panic.  I'd had a huge fear of puncturing during the race and not being able to fix it but I hadn't expected this predicament.  In my panic to turn the bike over to take the wheel off, I managed to spill a load water from my aero bottle.  Thankfully, Andrea was at hand to calm me down and the angel who is Will took over and fixed the thing in 2 minutes.  Phew.  Goodness me.  I really hoped this wasn't how the rest of my day would pan out.

Panic over, it was time to make a final trip to the ladies (well, smelly unisex portaloo), do a little more faffing at the bike then get into the wetsuit.  I handed my rucksack over to Dan and did well to hold back tears as he gave me a little pep talk.  My emotions were all over the place at this point - a mixture of excitement and terror - and I just wanted to get the damn race started.

It was nice to wait in the starting pen with my club mates. It wasn't a 'ladies only' start so myself and a few other Badtri ladies positioned ourselves towards the back of the pack.  A quick rendition of what is quite possibly the cheesiest song I've ever heard (the Challenge Family anthem) and a scary siren sounded.  Some "arghs" and "good lucks", a little trot and I plopped into the water.  The race was finally here.

The Swim - and so I started swimming and immediately noticed the wetsuit was chaffing my neck despite lubing up with bodyglide.  Ah well, the discomfort soon went (numbed?).  I noticed that Gill was swimming alongside me, which was kinda comforting and there wasn't much of a scrap for position.  The lagoon was fairly clear so there was plenty to spot in the water, especially the jelly fish which were lurking beneath in places.  There were 3 spectator lined bridges across the lagoon and I soon spotted some Bad Tri supporters, Gill's family and finally my sister and parents.  I gave them eye contact, a smile and a wave.  After this, just over half way into the swim I lost Gill and ended up around 30 metres away from her (how the hell does this happen?!).  It was at this point too I started to feel a little bored and that my form was slipping but tried to maintain a strong steady pace.  People from the next wave had started to overtake.  Beyond the final bridge was quite a narrow section of lagoon and it got quite scrappy and crowded here.....I love a bit of a scrap though.  I saw Dan going under the last bridge (gave him a wave too) and the finish and transistion tent was soon in sight. I marched out of the water in 1h17 which I was kinda happy with (I'd hoped for 1h15).  I spotted Elin then noticed that my calf muscles were a bit crampy.


I'm sighting here, honestly.  This isn't how I swam the whole thing!

T1 - I really hadn't expected to see naked men in transistion especially as we were told in the briefing that the tent would be divided to male and female changing.  Ah well, this was no time for gawping and tutting.  One thing I learnt from this T1 is that I really should have decided exactly what was going into each jersey pocket rather than having some 'optional' items and having to decide what to take with me.  9 minutes later I was clip clopping my way to my bike, praying my tyres were still inflated.  They were.

The bike - In my excitement, I immediately got onto my bike once I'd taken it off the rack, rode about 2 metres then realised this was definitely not allowed.  I sheepishly got off and hoped no one had seen.  It was a nice feeling to get out on the bike.  The first section was flat and fast with a tail wind.  I overtook a few (but got mainly overtaken) but I tried to remain calm and made sure my heart rate didn't shoot up too much.  Once we'd wound our way through Copenhagen's streets the route followed a flat coastal road north before making a left inland on a rural, indulating road. It then turned onto a dual-carriage way where there was a TdF style spectator filled hill (a very small hill in comparison), which was fun. By the second loop, Dan had made it to the hill and offered silly but funny encouragement.  I took this opportunity to offload surplus supplies from my pockets. Before the end of the loop was a mile long cobbled section which took me by surprise.  I didn't like it and worried it would cause a puncture.  Taking in plenty of nutrition and fluid has never been my strong point but I thought I managed it well, eating 3 energy bars, a pitta bread with hummus, some crystalised ginger (to help settle the stomach) and 2 gels (some would say this isn't enough).  Thanks to my aero bottle, I managed to take regular sips of water and energy drink.     It was around 85 miles I started to feel like I really wanted the bike leg to be over.  I was imagining what rides at home I'd need to do to cover the remaining distance and how long it might take....I worked out I should make it in under 7 hours, which egged me on.  Finally, I was back in the city centre and handing my bike over to a young girl.  6h37, very happy with that.

T2 - I remember feeling very relieved at seeing my trainers.  Although I'm not particularly strong at running, it's the discipline I feel most comfortable with.  I stuffed my tri top with shotbloks, put on my visor and glasses and started the ironman shuffle.  I'd decided to take a packet of plain oatcakes with me but they wouldn't fit in my pockets.  As soon as I left transistion, my parents and Elin were there, shouting their heads off.  I handed the oatcakes over, had a little chat then headed off on the run.

The Run - The run was 4 laps and at the start of each lap you got a coloured band (hairbands, which I'm now using!).  My strategy was to run as much as I could, walk the aid stations and any inclines, of which there were around 3 short ones.  Out on the first lap and the support was amazing.  My parents and Elin moved to another point so I spotted them again.  I started to spot other Badtriers running.  Some had the coveted green band already which meant they were on their last lap.....being on my first lap, this depressed me somewhat but I knew I'd get there eventually.  I got to the first aid station and took on some water.  It was at this point I noticed I was feeling a bit sick.  I took a shotblok and plodded on.  The sicky feeling remained and I noticed salt deposits on my tri shorts.  It didn't feel like I was sweating but it didn't really occur to me that I'd be losing salt.  Duh.  I passed Andrea and told her I felt sick and she suggested taking some salt tabs.  Best advice of the day.  I took a salt tablet at the next aid station and started to feel better.  I don't think it particularly sped me up but I certainly felt better.  Nadia was on her last lap when she gave me a little pep talk which made me smile.  One by one, I collected the wristbands and I finally got the green one.  One lap left.  It was starting to get dark and drizzly and spectators were thinning out but I saw Dan who walked with me for a while.  I was slowly realising that it was likely I'd get in under 14 hours.  I developed a mantra "let's work really hard for this", simple but effective.  There was more walking in the last lap but I managed to run the 2 long straight sections towards the end of the loop.  I could eventually see and hear the finish.  I wanted to walk but my legs wouldn't let me and I picked up the pace a tiny bit.  Into the finishing shoot and I saw Dan and my parents (Elin had left by now to fly home!) and heard the commentator say my name amongst all the disco lights and bad European dance music.  Over the line, arms up and I could finally stop moving.  Medal around my neck....Aaah.  What a great feeling. 

Lead legs but all smiles

All the training had been worth it. 

"So are you ready?"

So are you ready?  This is the question I'm being frequently asked, now that I've finished all my 'big' training.  I answer this question by saying "I guess...I hope!".

The Peak period of my training has been done and I'm now in Taper.  The race in Copenhagen is just over 2 weeks away and it's starting to feel very real.

During Peak, I managed to do two 100 mile bike rides, one in strong winds and rain (which, as we all know, I'm used to by now but still get mightily cross by!).  I also did a 73 mile ride along the up and down roads of North Pembrokeshire, followed by an hour's brick run.  Two long runs - one 2.5 and one 3 hour and a handful of threshold runs here and there.  One 3.2k lake swim, one 3k swim (6x500m) in Cardiff's 50m pool and my usual BadTri club sessions during the week.  I'm quite happy with all that.

A few days into taper and I can certainly feel by body crying out for some downtime!  I went for a sports massage the other day and some of my muscles felt quite different....and not good different.  I usually like having my calf muscles massaged but this time it felt torturous.  Being hit from behind whilst sat in a car at red lights a few weekends back hasn't helped ease the knots in my back either!  Fair play though, my body's done well to withstand the miles and hours of training.

So, for the next couple of weeks, I need to keep ticking over, doing short, sharp sessions and enjoy having more time to do 'normal' stuff at the weekends. 

I'll check back to blogworld in the week leading up to the Big Race!

Train. Eat. Sleep.

Train. Eat. Sleep.  This is all I did over the weekend and I loved every minute of it.

On Friday night, I made sure I wouldn't need to leave the house for anything else over the weekend by buying more than a weekend's worth of food.  I made a big pot of vegetable pasta for Friday's dinner, making sure I'd have leftovers for quick lunches on Saturday and Sunday.

The alarm went off at 5.30am (again!) Saturday morning.  Today I was to do 'The Big Swim', a 2 mile swim event in the Cotswolds.  I ate my big bowl of museli and half a bagel (what I'm planning to eat on race morning) and set off in the torrential rain, picking up Andrea on the way.  The last 3 times I've driven to the lake in the Cotswolds, I've gotten lost and I got lost again.  After mild panic and failed attempts at finding where we were on our fancy but useless 'smart' phones, we found the lake and arrived with ample time.

There was a lovely pre-race atmosphere, the rain had stopped and sun was starting to peep through.  I carefully got into my wetsuit and lubed up.  I was slightly apprehensive, mainly because I get quite bored swimming in open water, especially when there's little or no visibility.  This lake, however, is beautifully clear and there's plenty of underwater entertainment.

The scary fairground siren sounded, and we were off on the 2 loop course.  It wasn't the simplest of routes and kind of zig-zagged all over the lake.  There was the usual scrap at the start but I soon got plenty of open water to swim in and set about maintaining a good, strong steady pace whilst occupying my mind by checking out what was going on with the lake's wildlife.  I saw interesting cotton-wool type plants, tiddlers, a tesco bag and a giant black fish, which shocked me somewhat.

I'm not sure if my sighting was succesful or not.  I took what I thought was the most direct route to each buoy but everyone else seemed to be swimming WAY over to my right.....was I going off course?  Are they rounding the buoys too wide?  Anyway, I found myself  approaching the buoys quite tight and having to turn around them quite abruptly.

I felt good and was enjoying it.  The first lap passed quickly and about 2 thirds into the second I began to wonder what time I was on for.  I imagined something like 1h15.  A little sprint to the finish and I'd finished.  I went to stop my watch and was surprised to find I'd managed it in 1h02.  I was pleased.

A quick change and we were heading back to Bristol.  I ate my flaskfull of porridge so that I was loaded up again for the run Andrea and I would do when we got back.  Home, quick change into run kit, and I was out the door again on a 2.5 hour run.

I ran to Andrea's and we headed towards the harbourside and back towards Temple Quay.  From there we ran through an area I'd never seen before - St Philip's - the site of Bristol's dump.  Nice.

We soon found ourselves on the Bristol to Bath cycle path and maintained our nice marathon pace.  I wanted to test out my race outfit so I'd worn my new tri shorts, tri top and a t-shirt over (I didn't want to feel a tit running around Bristol just in my tri gear).  It was humid and the sun soon came out.  I was desperate to do some training in warm(er) weather so was pleased with the conditions.

Towards the end of the run, my left knee started to complain again and my hamstrings started to tighten but nothing I couldn't manage.  2.5 hours elapsed just as we got back to Andrea's house so it was a perfectly thought out route!  I think I covered around 13.5 to 14 miles and I was very pleased with myself for having done a great morning's training.

I braved an ice bath when I got home and after some Pasta and a For Goodness Shake I promptly fell asleep on the sofa.  Lots of potatoes for dinner then it was time for bed again in preparation for Sunday's 100 ride.

For the third day in a row, the alarm went off at 5.30.  I was quite excited about today though as I knew there was a big group of us heading out and that it would most likely be a fun day out.  Another massive bowl of museli and a bagel and I headed towards Andrea's to meet her and Pete before heading down to the start of the Bristol to Bath cycle path.  There were 9 of us riding!

It was a great ride and I felt good throughout.  Our route took in the Cotswolds, Wooton Basset, Avebury, Calne and Chippenham and was more or less nicely rolling.  We hit a few nasty hills (mainly when we got lost!), Andrea had a nasty fall when her bike acquainted with the curb and I punctured, which made me cross.  It gave me another chance to practise with my new CO2 pump though.

In the last 10 miles my tummy really started to rumble and I was hungry! I always think I'm eating too much when I'm out on a ride but evidently not.  Most people seem to bring snacks like sandwiches and non sports-nutrition cakes so I'm going to need to consider something new (and exciting) to eat.  I think I'm gonna go with Kate's snack of choice - pitta bread spread with peanut butter, cut up into small bits.

When I got home I put on my run shoes and headed out for a quick 10 minute brick run.  My legs felt ok.  Finally, my big weekend of training had been done and all I needed to do now was eat and sleep.....and that I did!

I can't wait until this weekend.  It'll be more of the same but this time in Cardiff with Dan.  Yay.

The End of Build and BADTri Long Training Day

It's finally rest week after a pretty hectic final 3 week build phase which included the Pyrenees camp, a random sprint tri, lots of sore muscles but hopefully some quality training.

The period culminated with my tri club's Long Training Day on Saturday.  This wasn't a race but an opportunity to cover half-iron distance.  We based ourselves at Henleaze lake and a few kind club volunteers looked after our kit and provided water, tea and coffee if required.

It was so nice to get up at a reasonable hour (7am), eat breakfast in bed and do some pottering before heading to the lake for a 9.30 start.  It was a grey but warm day and I had made note that it was, yet again, windy.  I didn't really bother setting up transition as normal, I just kinda dumped my rucksack next to my bike (which later turned out to be a mistake).




All smiles before the off.

A group photo then it was time to get into the lake.  Henleaze lake is always pretty cold so there was lots of yelping and whining as we all lowered ouselves in.  It's also very murky and you can barely see your hand in front of you so doing 10 laps didn't fill me with much excitement (I like to have things to look at when I'm swimming). 


There I am faffing towards the back!

I was still chatting and faffing with my watch when all of a sudden we were off.  Considering it wasn't a race it was quite the bun fight and it was fun having mini scraps with my club mates.  Soon enough there was plenty of clear water and I attempted to get into rhythm.  I thought I was going quite well but was slightly annoyed that people who I'm usually faster than in the pool were faster than me in their wetsuits.....so I'm obviously a great kicker but have rubbish upper body strength *sulk*.

42-ish minutes later and after a big push for the final lap, I was out of the water, along with Andrea.  I'd already decided beforehand that I wasn't going to do any kind of rushing in transistion.  I leisurely took my wetsuit off, dried myself off a bit and chatted whilst looking for kit in my rucksack.  After mild panic about not being able to find my sunglasses in my rucksack,  I was about to leave with Andrea when I realised I'd forgotten my gloves.  This is where I decided I really should have set eveything out like PROPER transition!

Gloves found it was finally time to get out on the bike.  Andrea had long gone by now so it was up to me to negotiate my way to the A38.  I immediately took a wrong turn at a roundabout and took a very indirect route.  I eventually found myself on the A38, a long, busy stretch of road heading up towards Gloucester.  Whilst not the most inspiring of routes it was the easiest for the day's organisers to put on for all of us from the lake.

The first 28 miles were a breeze, literally.  I was cruising along at an average of around 20mph, enjoying being down on my tribars.  Deep down, I knew I was being swept along by a mighty south-westerley wind.  As I approached the turn around point I started seeing my fellow BADTri-ers coming back the other way and most of them wore pained expressions.  Uh-oh. 

I rounded the roundabout and almost got blown sideways.  Back onto the A38 and I was now heading straight into THAT wind.  I think I immediately swore out loud.  So I had 28 miles of grinding it out at no more than 15mph, the wind whistling in my ears, out of control snot and a lot of swearing.  It was miserable!

I overtook one or two strugglers and I spotted a pair up ahead so made it my mission to hunt them down.  Thanks to some red traffic lights I eventually caught them.  Much to my surprise it was our head coach Andy and Tim, who I know is a pretty strong cyclist.  Hmm, I thought, Andy must be pacing him.  So I tucked in behind them (both strapping 6ft plus guys) and we cycled back to the lake, more or less in silence (well you couldn't have had a conversation in the wind anyway!).

Finally, I was back at the lake.  I'd forgotten to check my bike splits but someone mentioned that it had taken them 1h15 out and 1h50 back!  I lay down my bike (no fancy transistion railings), put on my trainers, a brief toilet stop and trotted up towards the Downs.  I think I must've again deviated from the 'official' route but I eventually found myself on the Downs.  We were to run 3 laps then head back to the lake.  Alex and Lucy kindly stood at a corner with a big water vat and lots of encouragement.

The run was tough and I felt pretty tired from the bike leg but I managed to keep a steady pace.  I walked through the 'feed stations' (just as I would in a race) and popped a few Shot Bloks.  I felt a bit of a plonker in my tri top and shorts too - it was pretty extreme running attire for what was essentially a run on the Downs (but completely normal in a race, of course).  This was such good training though, physically and mentally.  The thought of "how the hell am I gonna do DOUBLE this?!" did enter my mind.

Again, I'm not sure I took the official route back to the lake, more like the most direct way.  Finally, I'd finished and arrived back to a small ripple of applause from those left at the lake.  I was quite pleased with my run time (around 2h13) but was still reeling from the bike leg.  It had been a surprisingly hard day!



There's me in the blue cap.

 This week is rest week so I'm taking the opportunity to be sensible, tone down the training, get a massage and prepare myself for Peak. 

N.B. Despite being sun-less for most of the day, I managed to acquire very attractive tri kit tan/burn lines.  THANKS AGAIN WIND!
N.N.B.  It turns out Tim had crashed so Andy was carefully leading him home, hence the nice pace!

Mumbles Sprint Triathlon

It may seem a little odd to do a sprint tri in the middle of my ironman training but there was only one reason I did this one - so that Copenhagen wouldn't be my 13th ever triathlon. I couldn't find any other suitable Tris to do but this one was fairly close to Cardiff and I could incorporate going home to West Wales for the evening.

Another early morning start (4am - poor Dan) and despite it being pretty light outside, large ominous clouds loomed.  The recent weather has been damn awful and it was looking like today would again be another battle with the elements. A good hearty breakfast of porridge, half a bagel and coffee and we were ready to go. 

The journey there was blighted by heavy showers and I wasn't particularly looking forward to getting out of the car.  Despite a few more showers, transistion set up was nice and leisurely and I soon got into my wetsuit. 

After what seemed like the longest pre-race briefing ever (seriously, the guy practically went through the whole course) it was finally time to get into the not-very-inviting looking sea.  I'm not a fan of salty water but I figured this was more useful practise for the lagoon at Copenhagen.  My intention was to position myself towards the back of the deep water start and hope for fairly clear water but it would soom become evident that this was not going to happen.  The hooter went and the washing machine started.  It seemed to take ages to get into any sort of rhythm.  I battled through breast-strokers, got kicked in the ribs, whacked on the head, got blocked off between two guys who swam into eachother and swam straight into a guy who'd stopped dead at the buoy turn.  It was fairly frustrating but I do find the whole fracas quite fun and refuse to stress about it.

The run to T1 can only be described as torturous.  Running with cold bare feet on rough concrete really is one of the most unpleasant experiences.  I swore and grimaced alot, as did others around me (Dear Race Director - please consider some matting!).  I couldn't be bothered to rush T1 so I sort of dried my feet, on went the socks, shoes and rain jacket and I trotted out to the bike course.  As soon as I'd clipped in it started to rain again but it was a short lived shower.  We soon hit a hill, albeit a baby of a hill compared to what I was riding up last week.  It was enough to get the heart pumping and despite getting overtaken by a lot of guys I did pick off a fair few ladies (and some gents).  I felt strong.

Me on the bike, being a wuss, with my rain jacket on.

The route continued on undulating roads and there was a nasty surprise of a hill where a lot of people were pushing but I managed to grind and zig-zag my way up.  A quick blast along a moor then it was back down to the Mumbles sea front.  On the final stretch, a guy in surf shorts on a heavy looking hybrid bike overtook me.  Well, I wasn't having this at all so I turned on the afterburners and promptly overtook him back.  He then got annoying and came up behind me declaring 'oooh the race is on'.  He passed me again and I rolled my eyes.  The end was in sight and I didn't want to get beaten by a guy in surf shorts so I put the hammer down and got to the dismount line first, much to his disappointment. Ha, small wins...

Another rather leisurely transistion and it was time to run.  I remember the days when running off the bike felt like I'd suddenly contracted a bout of elephantitis in my legs.  These days, I make a point of running, sometimes for only 10 minutes, off almost all my rides and it has paid dividends.  I'm a bit slower at running high tempo this year but I felt comfortable for most of this 5k.  I ran most of the run a little bit behind a guy wearing a Tenby Tri suit.  I (very, very) gradually caught up with him in the last kilometre and we both upped the tempo to the finish.  I was just relieved I hadn't gotten a stitch, which had happened in the last few high tempo runs I'd done.

I think I have my raceface on, under that sportsnaps caption...

 And so my 13th Triathlon was done in 2 hours, 6 minutes and 2 seconds without any dramas, punctures or falls.  Phew.  Now onto number 14...

ES Coaching Triathlon Training Camp at Pyrenees Multisport

I'm still buzzing from last week's training camp.

We arrived at 'base camp' in Luscan on the Saturday afternoon and set to work rebuilding the bikes (which I'd spent ages lovingly packing the night before!).  We were staying at a lovely old French farmhouse which was decked out in Triathlon and Cycling paraphenalia. Brilliant.


Sunday - The week kicked off with a 7am open-water swim at the lovely clear water of Aventignan Lake. It felt so good to be swimming in a lake where you could see the bottom and get a sense of how fast you were swimming.  Back to the house for a hearty breakfast (the first of many very hearty breakfasts) then it was time to kit out for the long ride ahead.  Today turned out to be the biggest day mileage and hill size wise.  Our first Col was Col d'Aspin, a 1,489m high, 9km climb.  It was pretty gentle but with some steep-ish bits and, looking back, this was a pretty good introduction to looooooong hill climbing.  The views at the top were amazing and you could see a lot of the road we'd just snaked up.  A quick descent followed then it was time to tackle THE BIG ONE.  The Col du Tourmalet, a regular Tour de France fixture and a right-to-pass for anyone wanting to do the Pyrenees properly.  2,115m high and 18km with and average gradient of 7.4% (I learnt alot about gradients over the week!).  I was soon dropped by most of my 'comfortable' riding group and was left alone to tackle this beast.  Less than half way in, it started to rain, which kinda added to the experience.  I took it nice and easy and just concentrated on spinning the legs and counting down the km markers (thank you to whoever installed them).  Two-thirds of the way up, the road passed through a drab ski resort called La Mongie.  This was a particular dark moment where the gradient was around 10% and the rain particularly heavy.  I did, however, see a kitten running between two buildings which was a slightly surreal (considering the surroundings) if not uplifting sight.  All of a sudden I seemed to break through the cloud and it stopped raining and the sun came out.  Steam was rising from the road and I could see the end (and the lamas), but I would have to negotiate a series of hairpin bends first.  One bizarre thing I remember seeing was a car passing me very slowly and 4 perplexed faces starting at me from within.  "People, it's not THAT unusual to see cyclists struggling up here surely?!" Slowly, slowly the summit got closer.  One last hairpin to the left and there it was, a big shiny silver butt (please see below).  I let out a little yelp of joy.  I'd made it.  A quick stop at the cafe for chips and hot chocolate then a swift if not slightly white knuckle descent all the way to Argeles, where we were to spend the next two nights (n.b. on returning to the hotel I discovered my rucksack had gone missing in transit - the story deserves a seperate blog page).

Monday - I woke up on day two slightly apprehensive.  I felt good but the coach had checked with me the night before whether I'd be ok to do today's ride as it was going to be another Tourmalet style climb and a total distance of around 70+ miles.  I hadn't really considered I wouldn't be able to but this put a little seed of doubt in my mind.  I was worried I'd fall really far of the back and would need to be rescued by the minibus so I asked Dan to ride with me.  We all set off together and the speedy group (including Dan at this point!) sped off ahead whilst the comfortable group warmed up along a cycle path up to Lourdes.  We rode past the 'holy water' site where there was a long queue of wheelchair bound poor souls.  I did think about stopping to fill my bike bottle up.....Soon we were out on rolling roads and heading towards the Aubisque.  Dan had rejoined us now and after a bit of getting lost we got to the foot of the climb. The ascent of the Aubisque turned out to be the most fun climb of the week.  Dan and I sang, rapped and laughed our way up the 1,709m high, 16.6km, 7.2% average brute. Again, it rained and there wasn't much of a view so it really felt as if we were riding up a Welsh mountain.  At the top, there was a quick stop for a cup of tea and layering before the short descent to the bottom of the Col du Solour.  I almost stacked it on this descent whilst crossing a 'Canadian' grid on a bend, it was pretty hairy.  A 'quick dribble of a climb', as Julie put it, up the Solour and it was Cafe stop time followed by an arduous descent, mainly over gravel back to the hotel in Argeles.

Tuesday - I woke up feeling like a rag doll after the previous two days' triumphs.  Today we would be climbing back up the Tourmalet the other way, back up the Aspin and maybe fit it in the Col de Peyresourde.  Gazing out of the hotel room window at the pissing rain and mist did not fill me with joy and confidence.  After breakfast, with the rain still pouring, a decision was made that there'd be a group riding back to Luscan on a 'flat' route.  This pleased me and I made the decision to sack off the Tourmalet (I'd already done it! although now I kinda wish I'd gone for it) and head off on the flat route.  Starting out a ride in the rain is never fun and getting lost in Lourdes and negotiating roundabouts of death was frustrating but it turned out to be a nice 56 mile route home which had a couple of gentle climbs thrown in (well, flat was never going to mean that in the Pyrenees).  I finally managed a brick run (legs felt good) and looked forward to the next day, which would be 'rest day'.

Wednesday - Rest day.  Which involved; getting up for a 7am threshold run, an 8 mile ride to the lake, an open water swim, then the 8 mile bike ride back, via a creperie at the top of a fairly short steep hill.  It was weird how this day really did feel like a rest day, despite still putting in decent training.  The last 3 days of 5 hour plus rides made today feel like a walk in the park.  We had double crepes (savoury AND sweet) then headed home for an afternoon of lounging at the house.  And lounge we did.  I watched some of the guys getting their swim analysed in the endless pool then had a glorious nap whilst watching the Dauphiné Libéré cycling.  Dan and I went shopping for food in the drizzle and we even managed to watch The Apprentice before bed. 

Thursday - I was chomping at the bit today after a 'rest' so headed to the lake with a small hardcore crew for the 7am swim.  Today we would be climbing another big famous Col - the Port de Bales (where Andy Schlek dropped his chain) - so I stocked up with a substantial breakfast.  It was sunny (!) so everyone was in good spirits as we prepped the bikes and filled our bento boxes.  The 'comfortable' group of Mike, Nadia, Wendy and I were told to follow the speedy group as Nadia wasn't sure of directions.  We had a Garmin, what could go wrong?! Well we soon lost them, got lost and almost threw the Garmin in the river which was telling us to do a U turn from the off.  We carried on down a long, steep hill then realised we'd gone the wrong way and would have to go back up!  At the top of this hill I happened to spot a sign for Col de Ares, the first of today's hills.  However, we were going up it the wrong way, much to the bemusement of the speedy group who were by now descending it!  Back down (the correct way) and we were heading towards Port de Bales.  The views were amazing and it was a pleasure to ride in sunshine at last.  The Port de Bales, 1185m high, almost 19km with an average of 6.3%, was a great climb and I was chuffed that I managed to stick with Mike and Wendy all the way up.  The views were breathtaking but it soon misted up towards the top.  More tea at the top then it was time to layer up and decend.  Descending is a funny old business.  Whilst it's exhilarating, rewarding and damn fun, I frequently find it quite hard work and often really quite scary!  There were quite a few switchbacks to negotiate on the way down and I found myself hurting down a road just metres away from a sheer drop.  The thought that one false move and it's gonna hurt...a lot...is never too far away.  We descended around 20km down to the town of Luchon where both groups stopped to have (a late) lunch and where I ate a very tasty roll (for the record:  wholegrain walnut bread, french ham, blue cheese and tomato - yuuuuum, thanks Dan).  From here, we 'chainganged' it 20km downhill towards Luscan into a headwind.  This was a toughest part of the day and where I decided that a big bread roll and crisps wasn't the best nutrition for such exertion!  I rounded the day off with a 15 minute brick run with Mike followed by much stretching, foam rollering and, of course, eating.

Friday - The last day was soon upon us.  There were big plans for today (Col de Menthe, Col de Peyresourde and the Col des Ares TT) but alas, the rain had returned and enthusiasm to ride for 6 hard hours was almost non-existant.  The decision was made to ride a 45 mile loop which included the Col de Buret and Col de Ares, where we'd do a time trial.  By the time we'd set off, the rain had died but it was damp and dull.  We arrived at the foot of Col des Ares and everyone psyched themselves up for a stint of hard graft.  I went off first (being the slowest, meh) and was held in the proper TT start position and everything (which I wasn't keen on). 

Off I shot, up the Ares (so many jokes).  Pete soon passed me but it was amusing to see him in his Elvis glasses.  I kept spinning, weaving up the pleasant 3% average but making sure I was working.  250m from the finish line, I felt Wendy (who'd started a minute later!) coming up behind me so I pushed for the line.  Inevitably, she pipped me at the line but I really enjoyed it.  26 minutes 31 seconds and my name's now on the website - yay!  From the summit, we carried on to the village at the foot of the Port de Bales where we had lunch.  I didn't fancy just chips, so when the cafe owner announced that he had some 'verry goood locale saucisson' I was keen.  I wasn't so keen half an hour later when I was charged TEN EUROS (six of that just for the one sausage - preposterous). 

Bellies full of expensive sausage, we rolled down the few miles back to Luscan and finished the week off (sniff) with one final brick run.  We then had to sadly pack the bikes away before going out for dinner at a local restaurant where Will was declared the winner of the TT and was now lying second on the all time list.

It was quite possibly the best 'holiday' yet.  When I tell people where I've been and what I did, I mostly get looks suggesting 'hmm that doesn't sound fun' or 'are you mad?' but to me, it was the perfect week (bar the weather).  I feel the time spent climbing those monster cols has given me good ammo for dealing with the inevitable dark moments of Challenge Copenhagen. Above all, it was a great week doing what I love, with a great crew of people and quality time spent with my boy.

Massive Week

Last week was my biggest week of training to date and that's without including the Swashbuckler half-iron distance on the Sunday (not technically in the same week but close enough!). 

I managed a grand total of 15 hours and 3 minutes which included:

Swimming - 2h42 (6.8km)
Cycling - 7h57 (157.7km)
Running - 3h01 (26km)
Gym - 1h21

The highlight (or more like lowlight) of the week was Saturday morning's ride to Monmouth and back.  It's been pretty much non stop windy for the last month and I've had enough of battling through it.  Andrea, Pete and I set off early at 7am in the drizzle and wind.  I didn't have high hopes for a great ride.  Cycling over the old Severn Bridge was an experience.  Being picked up by the wind and thrown into the bubbling, brown water of the world's second largest tidal estuary below wouldn't have been pleasant but I managed to stay on the road. 

Once over the bridge the weather improved and it was enjoyable again.  There was a great decent into Monmouth and I got to push it on the aero bars to Tintern.  Approaching the Severn Bridge again it started to drizzle and the wind picked up.  Bleurgh.  Going back over the bridge was even scarier and once off it we had to endure newly gritted roads and a fierce headwind.  I had my whingey face on by now as we struggled on at 10mph. 

By the time I got home I was soaked through, covered in road scum and dishevelled.  I did manage a 15 minute brick run where I was pleased to find my legs didn't feel too bad after 80 windy miles.

I felt pretty pleased with myself on Sunday evening having managed to fit in an hour's lake swim, friend's BBQ and an 85 minute run......I woke up Monday morning feeling like a ragdoll but it was rest day therefore a lie in was in order.

And so I'm now on recovery week and eagerly anticipating the Pyrenees Training Camp which we're heading off to this Saturday.

Race Report: Swashbuckler Middle Distance

Being woken up at 2am by the howling wind outside the tent did not put me in a great frame of mind for doing a half ironman triathlon in a few hours.  I dozed and shivered until my 3am alarm, sat up and ate the pre-milked museli that I'd conveniently placed to hand the night before.  On my headtorch lit walk to the camp loos, it started to drizzle.  By the time Dan and I left the campsite, it was more than a drizzle.  The weather forecast had predicted overnight rain but it hadn't occurred to me that I'd, in fact, be up 'overnight'!

Arriving at race HQ at Buckler's Hard at around 4am, it was distinctly dark. There didn't seem to be floodlights and all you could see were weary, weather-beaten triathletes in the headlights, pushing their bikes somewhere. 

We found transistion fairly quickly but thank goodness for the headtorch.  There was no lighting and daylight had only just started to make itself known so goodness knows how torchless people coped with the faff of setting up transistion!  Before you knew it, however, it got light, the rain stopped and the wind seemed to die down a bit.  I squeezed myself into my shiny new wetsuit, downed a Torq Guarana gel (it tasted like Calpol and there was NO coffee stall) and huddled together with the other BADTri ladies. 

I'd been worrying about the swim.  The race organisers had sent out warnings about the strength of the tide in the river and how it was 'unsuitable for weaker swimmers', hmmm.  The hooter went and off we all went.  There was plenty of space so there wasn't the usual washing machine and limbs everywhere scenario.  I settled into a nice rhythm and the outward leg of the 2 lap out & back was with the flow.  On the way back, against the flow, you could definitely feel it, but it wasn't too bad.  By the second lap, the field had really spread out and I found myself more or less alone in the water except for this one lady who was swimming alongside me, but about 30m to my right.  The home straight leg was pretty tough and I had to give myself a talking to a few times.  I could see the high-viz jacket of the race director standing at the swim exit from quite far out but it seemed like an eternity before he properly came into view and I dizzily made my way out of the river.  I looked at my watch.  47 minutes, hmm not bad, considering the tide.  Here I am exiting the river, complete with weird grin and face.

I trotted up to tranisition where most of the bikes had already gone.  My wetsuit came off pretty easily but getting socks, arm warmers and gloves on proved less so.  I only half pulled on my arm warmers and decided to sort them out on the bike.  The sun was shining by now but it took a while to warm up on the bike.  I immediately starting getting a pain in my stomach which I hoped would pass.  3 miles in, my chain came off whilst changing gear.  Hmm, that's never happened before.  So I had to stop, get my hands dirty and remount on a hill.  It happened again 2 miles later.  I was getting annoyed by now and losing some places!  Eventually the gears and I settled and I started concentrating on nutrition.  The pain in my stomach hadn't gone away but I could manage to eat my energy bars and drink.  I didn't fancy any gel though so I concentrated on drinking often.  I eventually caught up with Gill and we had a brief but bizarre conversation about wind, bad stomachs, farting, immodium and burping.  This is the norm in triathlon.

I was going at a good pace but it seemed to be getting windier.  At one point I was riding on aero bars, peddaling down a hill at 10mph.  I was soon approaching T2 and I was happy to come in a few minutes under 3 hours with an average of 17mph! 


Aero on the bike.

Cycling shoes, helmet, gloves and arm warmers off. Trainers and visor on.  My first priority was finding a loo and thankfully there were 2 portaloos in transistion.  Heading out of transistion I saw Dan, probably mumbled something and set about shuffling.  My legs felt ok and the pain in my stomach was gone.  All those brick runs had been worth it.  Being at the slower end of the spectrum and on loop one of two, the first loop was busy with the speedies overtaking me all the way round.  I enjoyed this as I love to people and kit watch.  Gill caught up with me, we ran together for a while, but then she left me to it.  Loop one (7 miles) seemed to pass fairly easily and quickly.  Running back into race HQ, the support was great but it was pretty depressing to see so many people had finished already.  Ah well, on I went.  Clouds had gathered again by now and it was even windier.  On a lonely stretch of exposed road, I found myself shouting "F~*k off!" at the wind as I got buffeted and blown all over the place.  There were much less people out on the second loop but I did manage to overtake some.  I felt ok, kept the pace very steady and made sure I drank at each aid station.  I ate some shot blocks and finished my energy bar (from the bike!).  The last section of the run involved a very long and straight path through some woods.  This seemed to go on forever.  I homed in on a guy in front of me and eventually caught him.  Much to my amusement, he had a hole in the back of his shorts.


Struggling up the hill.

Finally I was nearing the finish but not before having to run the final few 100 meters up a hill.  Dan and all the BADTri lot were there doing some great cheering.  Crossing the line I don't think I did my usual arms aloft thing. I was just glad to have finished.  Check out the medal, one of the best on my hook.

On reflection, this was a great day's training.  I shouldn't compare it to last year's Vitruvian Middle Distance (which I did 13 minutes faster) as the course and weather were so different.  I also haven't been specifically training for this distance.  I was definitely pleased with my bike leg and amazed by the 17mph average!  I felt calm and fairly strong on the swim and probably had some left on the run (bike and run nutrition needs work though).  Next day, I felt tired from the 3am wake up call but had no aches or pains.

So onwards from here.  I'm hoping to do 90 miles on the bike this Saturday then the countdown to the Pyrenees training camp begins!

The Return of the Lake, Swim-Run & the Old Specialized Saddle

It's been a funny old week. 

I found it quite a drag heading from recovery week (where I banked a grand total of 4h23 training!) back to full training, especially after my sister's hectic hen weekend in London.  It felt good to be back in full flow though.  I could eat without worrying about how I was going to burn it off again!

Notes from the week:

• My first open water swim of the year in my new wetsuit.  The water was pretty cold but the wetsuit fits like a glove and is incredibaly buoyant.  Great purchase!
• BAD Tri Swim-Run started up again on Wednesday.  I'd been looking forward to this and the main objective was to see if my 400m swim time had improved.  Despite being in a chaotic lane, the swim went well and I managed to shave almost 10 seconds off last year's best.  I reckon I could've gone sub 8 minutes, without the lane carnage.  The 5k run was quite uncomfortable but I was fairly pleased with my total time - 35m08.
• More carange at swimming on Friday.  I was rammed head on by a guy trying to overtake ahead of me.  This made me say the F word very loud in an echoey pool. There was a bit of a scene. I have a little lump on my head. It hurts a bit.
• Latest on the saddle fiasco - I have now gone back to my first bike's Specialized saddle......and after a 63 mile ride on Saturday I think I'm going to stick with it for now.  Tut. 

Andrea and I headed out towards Tintern bright and early on Saturday  morning.  It was sunny and even a bit warm first thing:

I felt good on the ride so Andrea left me at Chepstow and I went back down to Tintern so that I could do the nice 3 mile ascent again.  I do love long gradual climbs!  At Tintern, you get awarded with this view:

Another 63 bike miles in the bag.  The length of these rides are starting to feel very normal now.

I rounded the week off with another swim in the lake this morning (again, in my lovely new wetsuit!) and a surprisingly pleasant one and half hour run around Clifton, the Downs and Henleaze.

Swashbuckler is next Sunday.  I feel ready but I'm absolutely dreading the 5.15 am start.  Is there any point going to bed at all?