September 30, 2008 at 2:28 pm · Filed under Cycling, Event, Road
I am such a social cretin before an event and watching the city boys arrive at the coach station in their pin striped suits and titanium s-bar bikes didn’t go anyway towards making me feel at home.
I cheered up a bit on arrival at Blenheim when friendly faces appeared out of the crowd and I was reassured that Emma’s Dave hadn’t abandoned me to do the race on my own. Shame Trinny and Susannah weren’t there though; they would have been able to advise me that the short and dumpy tie style wasn’t going to do much for my physique. They might also have mentioned that a thick woollen jacket wasn’t the best sporting wear for the hottest day of the year.
I had received tie training lessons some months ago, in a pub and even through the Stella haze I could remember some of the specifics of the double Nelson knot. Or maybe it wasn’t a Nelson, that sounds like a wrestling move and that was another night and a completely different sort of pub. Anyway, my tie, it ended up in some form of quadruple knotting affair which may even have been stylish if only I were tall and lanky.
So with the race about to start we’d had to lay out our bikes in the folded position, on numbered markers. I was going in the first wave, with Dave two waves and 4 minutes behind me. With the horn sounded we ran to the Bromptons, unfolded, pushed to the track and then set off.
I can’t believe that I’ve gone to so much trouble, practically having my gps surgically embedded in my wrist, and yet “forgot” to set the flippin thing off for the race. Now you are just going to have to take my word for it when I say it was HILLY. Big, long hills!
I may have mentioned before that I don’t do hills, not uphills anyway, but with Dave a mere 4 minutes behind me I didn’t have a lot of choice and had to keep pushing. When I finished the first 6.5km loop I came really close to throwing up on the corner, I thought it would be a slip hazard though and with Dave still behind me it could be seen as unsporting.
One of the guys in my wave had a video camera on his helmet and captured some of the beauty of the course. I was breathing so hard, sweating gallons and concentrating too much on the waves of nausea that I didn’t notice my surroundings.
It’s a bit noisy so I suggest you turn the volume right down, but before you get bored, pull the slider across to 4 minutes and wait for me to appear like a bat out of hell. He managed to capture almost a full minute of my backside flying down the hill with my coat tails flapping in an aerodynamic fashion.
I crossed the line in front of Dave but the gap could be measured by Brompton lengths rather than minutes but we both looked rather worse for wear.
The results are just in:
Lap 1 15:48
Lap 2 16:57
Total for the 13km 32:45 (Dave’s time was 30:26)
In terms of positions I’m 268/364 overall or 21/44 for the women. So I’m actually in the top 50% for a sport! It beats swimming.
September 16, 2008 at 3:05 pm · Filed under Event, Swimming
How cold?!
I eased myself gently into the lake until I slipped on a hunk of plankton and ended up bobbing some where near my ears with a foul expression on my face. The lake was freezing and I had the pleasure of sitting in it for the bizarrely named “warm up”. There’s only one way this could be termed a warm up and the thought of 220 swimmers peeing in unison didn’t improve my look of disgust.
Actual temp was 15.1′C or 59 ‘F for those that understand these things.
I started shivering so got out pretty sharpish but then wished myself back in the water as I now had to hang around in front of the film camera feeling naked or at least a black rubberised version of naked which isn’t much better.
I was in the final wave so with no swimmers following up the rear ready to lap me, I faced the decided risk of coming in dead last. Or just dead, which I suppose would be marginally worse.
Not being a terribly confident drowner, I thought it would be best to steer clear of the main body of swimmers, so swam wide and started at the back. Speedracer keeps terrifying me with tales of swimming right over the top of slower obstructions and I couldn’t trust myself not to start fighting in the middle of the lake if anyone tried that technique on me.
As it was I quickly found myself alone, paddling serenely in the middle of this massive lake enjoying the backdrop of mountains and the occasional break through of sun. It was really quite pleasant and if it wasn’t for the inconvenience of being in some kind of race I would have liked to have taken my time.
Not that my swimming was fast in any way. My overly buoyant wetsuit wasn’t playing on this outing and refused point blank to lift my legs to the surface. Thankfully I hadn’t cut the buttocks out to fashion a pair of chaps or I would have had to swim round in the walking position.
By the end of the first half I started to notice a few problems, my chest was tightening up and I developed a cough. My lungs seemed to be filling with fluid and I was struggling to catch my breath, then the wheezing started and I was convinced I’d developed asthma. There were 3 of us together at this point and the swimmer nearest me had developed a productive cough at about the same time. The safety canoeists swooped in like desert vultures and guided us home, with motivational snippets like, “only 35 more lengths of a pool to go”. 35 lengths was probably the max I’d swam in a long time so I wasn’t that convinced I’d achieve it while threatening to have my first ever asthma attack.
I rolled on to my back a few times to float and to try and relax my breathing but in the end it seemed like the best thing was to get the race over and done with so I could panic on dry ground. I thought I was proper last at this point so when I finally reached the end I thought I better put on a bit of a sprint finish. This photo has to be one of the best action shots ever taken of me - thanks Tanya.
The satellite image shows Lake Windermere in all its glory, the next day as Dan and I drove down past its banks we flushed with pride at the thought of having swum across it. I have actually drawn our mile route on the image in it seems far from traversing the lake, we managed only a delicate nibble off a small corner. One of the rescue canoeists was telling me he had swum the full length of the lake - a mere 10 miles and another woman at the Great North Swim had swum it in both directions.
It still feels good though and now my breathing has recovered I can start making plans for next year, it wouldn’t take much training to ensure myself a whopping pb.
Stats for the event:
Time: 1:12:34
Position: 1779/1796 which puts me in the top 99% or if you prefer the bottom 1%. It is almost thrilling to discover that I am quite possibly a better runner than I am a swimmer.
The faster swimmer came home in 0:17:03 which is a bit galling.
I’ve been quiet for a while but I’m still out here, running and swimming a bit.
Swimming is still my biggest concern, I made it to the pool on Sunday thinking I’d sneak in a mile but I got bored and bruised after 1 km and called it quits. I was trapped in an anticlockwise convoy and every time I made a move to overtake the breaststroker in the group she would wait til I approached her shoulder and then dislocate her hip in order to give me a good sharp kick in the tits. I suppose I should prepare myself for much worse in the open water melee.
No more time for prep though, I’m just packing my bag for the long trek up North to the start of the Great North Swim. I’m a little apprehensive but that’s no surprise, I’m always in a state of dread before the big day.
The event report will follow but in the meantime I’m going to share the latest “Here I am” video from NikeWomen. They are publishing a series of animated films highlighting the mental and physical journey of a series of high profile athletes. The one below is of the triple jumper Simona La Mantia, it’s pretty good - moving, strong and it quite makes me wish I could jump above the clouds.
I’m looking forward to the one from sprinter Nicola Sanders which will be released shortly.
Lesson No 1: Scrap any plans for cross channel swimming attempts.
Swimming in the sea is tough. It started well, the wetsuit protected me from the staggering chill but the moment I put my face in the water I ingested enough salt to raise my blood pressure to alarming levels. I quickly raised my head and adopted the side to side waggle that gets me nowhere very fast.
(I do appear in this photo - search for the black dot)
Lesson No 2: I do not require any additional buoyancy in my backside.
What with the head wiggle and the 3mm rubber padding I felt like I was trying to swim in the yoga bow position. I couldn’t seem to keep my legs in the water and am seriously considering cutting the buttocks out of my wetsuit and turning it in to a fancy set of chaps.
Lesson No 3: Waves are for surfer dudes.
I bobbed up and down fairly happily until I started seeing the incoming waves breaking on their way towards me.
Then the panic started.
I went out twice over the weekend, trying out different areas of the beach in search of calm deep water but only managed a cumulative distance of 1.5km.
I need to get myself in the pool next week and start training, I also need to get over my reluctance to put my head in open water but I’m not sure how to practice that without sticking my face in puddles.
My running seems to be oscillating wildly between run one, love one, hate one. Today was time for another “love one”, thankfully.
I wish you could tell how you’re going to feel before you set off, when I get a duff run I feel like throwing in the towel and quitting, these are runs to avoid. Today I felt the starting of a cold so nearly didn’t bother going out but it turned out to be the sort of run that keeps me buzzing about the sport for ages. I’ve set myself up for a good weekend now I’m sure.
I drew up my half-marathon plan a few weeks ago and opted for a simple Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday plan. I hit problems the moment I transferred this to my pre-existing diary full of appointments (be-fitting my social butterfly status). Training plans clashed with life this weekend as I’m heading off to the coast to try out my wetsuit. This is a vital arrangement as I haven’t been in the pool since December and need to see if the 1 mile open water carnage otherwise known as the Great North Swim is a viable option.
So, running plans were randomly jiggled and resulted in me having to go out and pull off a 7-miler.
7 miles is an awkward distance for me. My commute is a perfect 6-miler and not much would persuade me to run half a mile beyond my final destination and back again. My other running routes tend to involve ever increasing loops of the Thames but the river fording points are limited and so throw up huge psychological tests or bridges that I seem too weak to resist.
I opted to run as far as I could away from my flat and then loop back round through Richmond Park. I loaded SteppenWolf onto the iPod and fortunately it kept me occupied for about 4 miles before I realised I hadn’t a flipping clue what was going on. By that time I’d reached the point of no return and had no choice but to push on forward.
I find it a little concerning that I have to actively mess with my own head in order to achieve simple training plans but I won’t lose sleep over it. At least I’ve found another good route with limited options for bailing out.
Well this half-marathon (or two) isn’t going to run itself, so I exploited the refreshing drizzle today to enjoy a mid-week river run.
The drizzle was obviously fairly heavy as the river came out to join me.
With no fording points available, I got to enjoy the rest of the run with squelching socks and shoes - kept me cool though.
It’s just shy of 9 weeks to the GNR and 10 weeks to the second half marathon of my season. My aim is to maintain enough leg function after the GNR to at least make it to the start of the Royal Parks Half but preferably the finish. This challenge isn’t about time, its about dignity and standing on your own two feet without weeping too much.
As I’m not feeling like much of a runner at the moment, I’ve doctored the Non-Runners Marathon Trainer to form a mini half-marathon plan:
Week
Mon
Wed
Fri
Sun
1
3
4
3
5
2
3
4
3
6
3
3
4
3
7
4
3
5
3
8
5
3
5
3
10
6
4
5
4
11
7
4
6
4
12
8
4
6
4
10
9
4
4
4
13.1
10
4
4
4
13.1
I cleared Kew Bridge and found myself surrounded by ducks and swans swimming on my path, they were practically bobbing around the beer gardens. This particular beast attacked my soggy foot after posing for a photo.
OGB may well have left London in search of science but he hasn’t stopped harassing me. The last email I got from him went along the lines of “how do you fancy doing a 10k race in Cardiff?”
Cardiff? That’s in a whole different country, why would you bother?
He obviously thinks I’ve gone soft and will sign up for any old event, I did afterall allow myself be bullied into the “Great North Swim“. Yup, I did say SWIM.
It’s apparently the first mass participation swim event ever, styled by the organisers of the Great North Run, and involves thousands of folk jumping into Lake Windermere and trying to swim over each other to reach the other side - a mere 1 mile away.
Sounds like great fun if you don’t drown.
One minor problem with this event is that it requires a wetsuit. Not surprisingly there is a huge shortage of off the peg wetsuits in my size so I’ve had to go down the made-to-measure path. How scary is that?
I’ve just gone through the measuring process and sent the figures off to Snugg for verification, I can see them now with calculators in hand, trying to determine if they possess that much rubber.
I’m not looking forward to the receipt of this item, it will require me to come face to face with my excesses. This suit will presumably be the size of a rolled flat me, where the hell am I going to store it?
What’s more, I can’t spend 200 quid on an outfit for 1 event. This is going to be the start of numerous wetsuit donning activities, OGB is just going to have to invest in a bike, I see triathlons ahead.
An absolute scorcher today, June has finally arrived and what better way to enjoy the sun than spending 2 hrs locked in a tube train and another couple running through the crowds of Central London?
I wonder if I’ve ever mentioned my dislike of the London public transport system. I’m sure the feeling is mutual, I hate it and it feels fairly venomous towards me.
There are some building works going on outside my flat that have resulted in restricted traffic flows. As I left my flat this afternoon I could see my bus waiting patiently for an opportunity to turn into the main flow. I sprint down 3 flights and out onto the street, timing my crossing perfectly to run between a car and the bus to arrive just in the nick of time at the bus stop. Arm goes out but the bus doesn’t stop, instead he honks his horn and starts to gesticulate as if he can’t understand why I would have just run in front of him and stood by the bus stop. The woman running along behind me is absolutely incensed by this and taking no chances, throws herself in front of the next arriving bus.
The next bus decides to pull off just as I’m about to climb onboard but temptingly he leaves his door open so I try a run and leap manoeuvre. The jury is still out so I’ll leave it until tomorrow to decide whether I’ve done myself any lasting ankle injury.
On the way back home the tube decides I’d look better as an amazon and with a particularly swift and violent door closure, attempts a single mastectomy in full public view. Not pleasant, but I survive with a solid black line bisecting me from chin to nipple.
I did manage some running as well as performing heroic transport antics. I started in Belsize Park for my journey along the Northern Line (Charing Cross branch). I love this area of London, the moment I become monied I’ll be buying a flat on this street. perhaps one just above the book shop.
It’s a great start to a run as well, from the top of Haverstock Hill you can enjoy a downward sprint all the way to Camden. I had to slow down briefly at Chalk Farm for graffiti purposes and then ground to a complete stop by Camden Market. Camden on a hot weekend is a nightmare, far far worse than Oxford street. There is no room to run but even if there was, this is not a street for deep breathing. Inhale too hard here and your head will be swimming for hours and I didn’t have time for the munchies.
I start running again past Mornington Crescent, which is pictured here for the benefit of any Radio 4 listeners. Quite an unassuming tube station but obviously carrys a great deal of competitive importance.
The Northern line is relatively short, about 7km from Belsize Park to Waterloo so I decided to make the most of my travel card and complete the Central line as well. Heading back to Embankment I took the district to that joyful little retreat at Mile End. This time round it was sunny which added a positive glow to the place and I noticed the canal which I’d missed the first time here but I still didn’t want to linger. Some error in navigation had me running along the road to Stepney Green again, before I hung a right, heading through social housing city and up to Bethnal Green.
Bethnal Green to Liverpool street is quite an interesting route. I liked it around there. It looked like I’d just missed a street market as I was having to work quite hard not to slip on discarded portobello mushrooms and grapes. I’d also overlooked my invite to a hip biker event. There were stacks of cyclists around and every one had a cool fixie with aero wheels and aggressive track styling. Odd to see people bouncing down curbs with 5 spoked wheels though, can’t imagine they’ll last very long.
Beyond Liverpool Street it was in to City Boy Land.
This shot shows St Ethelburgers Church which was apparently destroyed in 1993 by an IRA bomb. It had previously survived the Great Fire of London and the blitz.
It has recently been rebuilt and they’ve done a fantastic job as the building just grabs your attention, maybe its enhanced by the backdrop of the Gherkin.
Threadneedle Street has many more impressive buildings but at this point I’m getting a little too hot and bothered for further architectural appreciation. Besides, I’m preparing for the Underground surgery awaiting me at Holborn.
Two more lines completed!
Salomon XT Wings Challenge Today:
19 Tube Stations
16.04 km
Cumulative:
71 Tube Stations
64.17 km
See the combined progress map here.
What a question - of course I do!
Just check out the ring of light, how have I managed to live so long without it?
It’s not too clear how the new Garmin Forerunner 405 compares to our trusty friend the 305. Sure there are the beauty enhancements and some wizadry that enables wireless upload to the PC as you stagger in from the streets, but I want to know if the satellite reception is going to be improved. It is going to be hard to improve on the Forerunner 305 but speedy satellite lock on is the way to go.
I’m still having one though - just tell me when. I might even consider entering a good ole US event if it means I could get it earlier.
*UPDATE*
Here’s a link to an important FAQ on the new forerunner 405, I’m a little disappointed that Garmin didn’t take the opportunity to make some obvious improvements to the forerunner series. It’s waterproof rating is still only sufficient for coping with sweat and possibly splashing in a particularly shallow puddle. Why didn’t they fully waterproof this beast so that it could become the clear option for triathletes? As it is, swimmers are going to go elsewhere for their gadget fix or continue to shove the unit under their swimming caps.
I can’t pick out any functional improvements at all, it’s just in a different box - quite a pretty one though.
January 11, 2008 at 12:37 am · Filed under Swimming
Can someone remind me why I thought accountancy would be such a good wheeze? I feel like a gerbil trapped in a wheel, spinning it relentlessly from month end to month end. My days seem to be an endless cycle of prepare for month end, month end, recover from month end, prepare for month end, month end, recover from month end…… I’m going to blink one day and find myself aged 65.
At least now that I’ve recovered from my cold, I can break free a bit in the evening and run home again.
I joined the gym just before Christmas. My intention was to use the weights for a bit of serious muscle building but I got scared off by the hoards of inflated popeyes that preen on the mats. Having paid for 6 months in advance I’ve had to find some use for the place. Not much point using the treadmills, so that leaves me with the pool. I am now swimming and then running home and will therefore be a wafer thin racing whippet in no time!
I’ve forgotten all my immersion technique prowess of last year and am back to floundering. Managed a bit of a desperate sinking doggy paddle today as well. I have a near phobia of unattached hairs, a bit of an occupational hazard in communal showering/swimming areas, and every time I swim I go through a period when I feel sure that a hairball is just grazing my lips.
Immediately I flip onto my back, clawing frenziedly at my mouth. Then begins the death roll and flailing that invariably propels me to the bottom of the pool.
Soon enough I bob back up, decide I was probably thrown into a panic by a stray bubble and wonder why all the life guards seem to have sprung into action.
40 lengths today - enough to leave me roaring with hunger. What is it with swimming, I always come out of the pool feeling as though someone whipped out my stomach?
Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention to arrive safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming: Wow!! What a ride!
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