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.