Escaping the neoprene prison (Sunday 29 June 2014)

Apparently I need a wetsuit.

More details have been released for the race and I need a full length wetsuit suitable for caving/coasteering activities. EEK!

So yesterday, I thought that after church, when we popped to Sainsbury to get some bread and milk, I would get a wetsuit.

Sunday Shopping List

• Bread
• milk
• cereal
• razor blades for Ross
• shaving foam for Ross
• Wetsuit

This might seem a bit mad, buying a wetsuit in a supermarket but they sell them so, why not?  If only it were that easy.  First we needed to find them.  I took the logical course of action and  went to the swimming costume bit of the ladies clothes department and guess what?...no wetsuits.  Now as I know that this shop sells them, I was a bit flummoxed.  My son, with 12 year old logic, suggested I try the sports aisle which I did but to no avail. So of course, I had to go to default position of all bemused shoppers...when in doubt, ask an assistant.

The assistant told me that the ladies wetsuits are kept in the men's department, with the men's wetsuits.  ??!!

I duly went along there and found them.  I am a size 12.  Sometimes a 10 if it's been a good week without mocchas and muffins.  I grabbed the only size 12 there. (And who, by the way, thought it would be a good idea to have the size label sewn onto the outside of the ladies wetsuit.  Do the manufacturers not understand the female psyche at all?)  For good measure, I took the size 14 down as well. 

We have a posh Sainsburys.  There is a nice fitting room with an attendant who helps you.  I went into the changing cubicle with such hope in my heart.  I came out a broken woman.

First of all I had to strip down to my underwear.  Sunday being my rest day, I actually had on some nice-ish clothes, not just sports kit or workaday wear.  I had even pushed the boat out and put on a skirt. However, off it all came.  I stood there in my knickers, contemplating the wetsuit.  I have never had one before so I am a wetsuit novice. At first, I did not realise that the zip was covered by a Velcro strap so I had hold of the long string attached to the zip and was yanking it in vain.  I eventually worked it out and had the wet suit in a black puddle at my feet, ready to step into.

I inserted my left foot into the leg hole and had to wrestle to get my foot through the opening at the bottom. I got my right foot in with the same amount difficulty.  Then, I started to try to pull the suit up my legs.  With a lot of hauling, I finally after about 5 minutes, got the knee pads up to my knees.  I became aware of some sniggering outside the changing rooms.  It was Ross and the shop assistant.
 
Ross, "How are you doing in there?"
Me, breathlessly, "It's a bit hard to get it up."
Ross, "There is a lot of grunting going on.
Me, "Yes, well, I am struggling to pull it up."

With a lot more grunting,  I managed to get the thing half way up my body but the crotch was still by my knees.  Then I had a bright idea. I would put my arms in the sleeves, stretch my arms up above my head and in that way, pull the whole thing up and it would be on in a jiffy.

I bent down and forced my arms down the sleeves.  "Right you revolting giant elastic band, I have you now," I thought.  Cinderella will go to the race, she will have a wetsuit on.

Oh how wrong could I be?

 I was folded in half, I tried to stand up and pull the whole suit up at the same time.  No go...  It was like wrestling with a giant rubber monster.  I wriggled and puffed and made some very unladylike sounds which caused more hilarity for Ross and the assistant. Finally I got myself upright and without even attempting to zip it up decided to get Ross's opinion.

"Ross, please can you help me," I emerged from the changing room, red face, flustered and swaddled in a full body tubi-grip.  "I can't get the zip done up."

Ross pulled the zip up behind me and I felt my whole life flash before my eyes.  It was like being garrotted!  The rubber neck band took a strangle hold on my neck and I squawked with terror.  "It's too tight.  I can't breathe," I  complained. "Can I cut the neck line into a V-neck," I naively asked.
"No," replied Ross, as the shop assistant tried to keep a straight face, "That is how it works." 
"Well then I have to try on the 14, I feel like I am being squeezed to death.  It's so hot and it's too tight , it's claustrophobic.  You know I hate having tight things on."  (I tend to wear my trousers a size too big so that they don't hug my waist, I loathe tight things around my middle!)

"All right try the other one on." said Ross, resignedly and unzipped it for me.

So I waddled back into the changing room and tried to remove the wetsuit.  It had stuck to my skin.  In the few moments that I had it on, I had begun to sweat profusely.  I was encased in a neoprene prison with no visible means of escape.

I hauled on the neck line and managed to get my left arm out of the sleeve.  The whole thing was making disgusting slurping sounds as it came off.  I felt like my arms were being sucked down a powerful vacuum cleaner.  This thing did not want to let me go.  Eventually I wrangled the beast to the ground and emerged panting and victorious, from the belly of the rubber beast. 

Hooray, I was free.  Only thing was, I had to try on the size 14.  Oh GREAT!

Well, that seemed very easy to slip into. The reason soon became clear, I looked like I was wearing a giant rubber Andy Pandy suit. 

I came out of the change room again to get Ross to zip me up.  My neck still felt like it was being slowly strangled but at least my body didn't feel like it was being squashed to death. 

"That's not going to work," he said.
"Why not?"
"It's too big," he informed me.  (It was more than a bit baggy all over)
"Oh but it isn't squeezing me.  Maybe I need a size 13, not that they make size 13," I muttered. (The shop assistant's lips were quivering with supressed laughter.)

I disconsolately went back in the changing rooms to take it off.  Once re-dressed I came out and handed the suits to the assistant, who had managed to regain her professional impassive expression.

"I don't think I will take either of them, thank you." I told her, trying to reclaim a modicum of dignity.

We got the bread and went home, sans wetsuit.

The Longest Day...The Longest Night 21-22 June

Training session stats:
12 hours
90.45km
Total calories burned: 4951

Last Saturday was the summer solstice.  The longest day but for Team Beacon Adventure Racers it was the longest night. After some confusion about start times, mainly caused by me not reading emails properly and consequently not organising child care at the right time and Will not finishing work till late,  the four team members gathered at the Basingstoke Canal Centre, which was serving as our base, at 7.15 on Saturday evening.  Ross was more than a bit stressed by this delay, which had also meant we had to shovel in dinner as we drove to the base.  Ooops!

Although we have had a few short hikes together and a couple of hours in kayaks as a group, this was to be our first big training session as a team.  I was filled with trepidation and excitement and because I hadn't read the email closely, I wasn't really sure what to expect...but in light of what we were doing and my inexperience, perhaps that is no bad thing.

Andy was already there, looking calm as his 3 harassed, running late team mates tumbled out of our vw bus.

After wrestling with the lock on the kayak shed and trying to remember the combination, we had the usual debate about which kayaks we were going to use and then we put on our buoyancy aids and climbed into our vessels.  I put lashings of insect repellent on but apparently I needn't have bothered.  It turns out they really love Andy so as long as the rest of us kept fairly close to him we wouldn't be bitten by the little critters.  Saying that, we had to risk suffocation by insect mob, the clouds were so thick, particularly under the bridges along the canal.


We had such a fantastic paddle..

The evening was beautiful.  There were a few fishermen out on the tow path whose lines we had to avoid but that was no problem.  It was great to be out there together.  We paddled just under 12km up to the first lock and back.  It is a very nice paddle.  The summer evening air was heavy with the sweet scents of pollen and cowslips. The further along the canal you go, the higher the vegetation gets along the sides of the water.  I let my imagination run wild and could almost believe we were in a mangrove swamp or an Africa river system.  The reeds along the bank make great nesting places for all the water birds and the canal is teeming with little ones this time of year.  I saw a great crested grebe and heron and Will spotted the floating nest of a coot or moorhen with the mum sitting in it.

I have a long standing shoulder injury so it takes a while to warm up when kayaking as feeling strong at about 5km into the paddle.  It as that point that we started to explore territory I had never been to in my kayak.  We paddled over an aqueduct.  It is such an odd feeling, paddling over a road,  I loved it.  We made it to our half way point in good time and even stopped to take some photos of each other.    This was our turning point and we headed back to the canal centre.  The air was warm and the paddle was pleasant. I was concentrating on trying to use my core muscles to paddle as we are being taught on the racing kayak course we are doing.  It is a lot harder in the bigger, heavier plastic kayaks than it is in the racing ones but I persevered and even had a little energy left to put on a burst of speed for the last 1km so that Will, who was trying desperately, couldn't catch me.  Yes! There is nothing like a bit of competition in the team to push yourself onto new heights.

1 hour 49 minutes saw us back at the Centre.

We hauled our canoes out of the water and had to wash them down (as per club rules) and stow them away in the club shed.  We were transitioning on to foot at this point.  I urgently needed to have a wee by the time we were off the water.  Without bothering to remove the life jacket,  I checked the code for the toilet door lock and dashed across to the loo block. I plugged in the code and nothing... eek, really desperate now...Fortunately, I could hear voices coming from inside so I rapped on the door and they let me in.  Aah!  Relief.  Time being of the essence in transition, I jogged back to the shed, washed my kayak and helped pop them away.
 
Andy has taken on the role of chivvying us through transition and wanted us to be away in 15 minutes but due to kayak storage we only managed it in 20.   We all had to step out of our soaked water shoes, get trainers and socks on and haul on our back packs.

I had to strip off my shorts which were sodden and being made of cotton would have taken hours to dry and pulled on a pair of long running tights.  That's the last time I use those shorts in the kayak! I sorted the food for the Phillips contingent handing out bags of trail mix, packing dark salted chocolate in my back pack and passing around Peanut butter sandwiches.  Food on endurance events is such a potent issue and demands a post of its own. We all had different things that needed doing. William persuaded me not to put on my new light weight gaiters.

"What do you need those for?"

"To stop the bits of gravel and grass from getting in my shoes."

"You won't need those.  Come on"

(That is the last time I heed that particular bit of advice.  I really do need them.  I managed to walk about 12km without them and my shoes slowly filled up.  So I emptied them out and put on the gaiters but unfortunately, the damage was done and I had a tiny bit of gravel in my shoe that irritated the whole walk.  Next time I am putting them on straight away.)  I know Will was motivated by getting us moving.

And we were off. Simultaneously putting on my head torch, stuffing a sarmie in as I went along and slurping on a bottle of water, I padded along behind the men feeling strong and ready to tackle the hike...

I thought I would listen to my ipod for a bit on the hike but after one song a mechanical voice in my ear announced, "battery low".  Ah!  I should have charged it.  Rookie error there. Oh well,  I could talk to my team mates. William however kept his headphones over one ear and 'entertained' us with some very off-key U2 songs as we powered along.

Last time we did a long hike I used poles but since then I have managed without them.  For me the jury is still out on the value of carry the extra weight for the times I would use them on the hills and anyway, I forgot them!  It didn't seem to matter though as I was striding along well.  Ross has taught me to increase my speed by increasing my cadence and not my stride length.  This has seen my hike speed go up rapidly.  We made good time on the hike and didn't need head torches for ages.

I felt good on the hiking leg and we forged our way across M.O.D. land, through woods and along side of the military ranges. We had a weird experience with the temperature. It was a lovely balmy night but every time we went down into the dips it got really freezing.  There was a lot of noisy birdlife out there at night and several shouty squirrels too.  I got dive bombed by a bat as well which was a bit off!

 I had  nasty slip on the gravel on a sharp down hill along the ranges. My hate-hate relationship with gravel that started on the first hill sprint training night continues. I just could not stop myself as I felt my left leg slide forwards and my right leg slide to the side.  Earlier in the week I had felt my right thigh muscle twang horribly during a sprint session and now felt the whole thing pull as I went down with a bang.  The air went a bit blue, which is very unlike me, but I was terrified I had injured my thigh.  Actually though, the pull acted more as a stretch and my thigh felt fine.  So I bobbed back up and carried on as if nothing had happened. 

We were making good progress, our pace was high.  Not as high as we have managed during shorter sessions but good. 

There are times when everyone goes through a rough patch and Ross had one while we were walking.  He is so strong but unfortunately, the dinner he had shovelled in on the way to the Centre was not really enough.  So, he had a low point for a few km's on the walk.  Then, he perked up and carried on as if nothing had happened.  I was really motoring on that section and the guys even let me go out in front for a while.  Leading the way and setting the pace....that was until I found a muddy puddle and wham!  I fell splat into this "hippo wallow" and landed with all my weight on my left wrist. Ooh the pain!   Andy said he thought I had broken it and by Monday morning so did I, ending up at a & e, having a x-ray but it is soft tissue damage.  On Saturday night, however, I wasn't going to let that possibility stop me, so I jumped up and carried on, holding it up against my body until the throbbing stopped. Someone else took the lead.

As the light faded we had to put on our head torches. Your whole world shrinks to that circle of light.  It is very hard to imagine anything beyond it.  I often find when I am training I get very focussed and  my world is all about keeping my head down and keeping going, this is even more noticeable at night when you can see no more than the circle of light directly in front of your feet.  The other thing I noticed is that as the night progressed we lost volume control on our voices and got quite loud when we chatted. Ross reckons, that he doesn't and had to keep telling the rest of us to sshhhh especially when we walked through the suburbs at 1 in the morning! (Sorry, if it was your beauty sleep we disturbed.) 

It wasn't just volume control but as you go on you lose all sense of time. It telescopes.  At the same time your perspective shrinks to your activity and a sense of unreality overcomes you. But, I also felt more in my own skin than I had felt before.  Up until that night I had to keep thinking of some iconic women endurance adventure athletes and thinking I was treading in their footsteps.  For the first time, I started to feel like I was blazing a trail myself.

We spent 4 hours 19 minutes on our feet tramping over all kinds of terrain and gaining and losing altitude, dealing with rough descents in the dark and made it back into the centre at around 2 in the morning.  I didn't feel tired but I did need a protein shake which I swallowed in about 3 gulps.  I should also have eaten another sandwich but only managed half which had a knock on effect later on.

Andy set us a time of 15 minutes for transition.   The bike stage was coming....

33 minutes later.

We had all put on long sleeved fleeces.  Head torches had been attached to helmets. I looked like I had three aerials sticking out of my head from the cable ties securing my head torch.  At 2 in the morning this caused some hilarity.  Tonight was the first night I would ride without padded shorts.  I had been suffering with all over chaffing and pinching from the pad shifting and I have a gel seat so it shouldn't make much difference. 

We were off.  William was put in charge of navigation.  He's done a lot on foot but this was fairly new to him.  His comment was,  "It's harder on the bike." 

We were riding out towards the A3, Beacon Hill and the Devil's Punchbowl.  Places I had never been.  It all started so well.  I felt strong and was keeping up with the guys.  Then we got to the first big hill and they powered up it.  I simply ran out of steam and puff grinding to a halt.  I took a quick breather and stood up on the pedals and forced my way up that hill one rotation at a time.  There was more to come.  We were going up Beacon Hill.  I am sure this is Surrey's Everest.  I felt like we climbed for ever!  But, I am nothing if not determined.  I didn't want to get off and push.  Not on your Nellie... so when we got to a scree slope laughingly signposted as a bridle path, I was not getting off.
"Get off and push," advised Ross.

"No!" I responded stubbornly.  I was a bit grumpy as I had started to feel a bit sick. 

By this point Will and Andy had reached the top and were out of sight, waiting for us.  I was not giving in, I needed to show these guys and myself I was tough enough and wasn't going to be a liability.

I was in the lowest gear that I can get and I kept on going until even though I was pedalling forward, I was sliding backwards.

I gave in. I got off and pushed for about 50 m.  Then I got back on and pedalled all the way to the top of that slope where we all met up and I discovered everyone had had to push.  I didn't feel so bad.

It was pretty much up hill all the way to the top of the devil's punch bowl.  But, the view was worth it.  Unfortunately, I was really flagging and was quite a way behind Will and Andy.  Ross was keeping company and offered to tow me which I stubbornly refused.  I need to do as much as I could without assistance.  My problems were compounded by the nausea which was preventing me from eating.  I have had this feeling before when expending a lot of energy.  I was hungry too but was getting thoroughly sick of trail mix.  If I ever see another peanut.... 

I was also suffering the indignities of a chaff where the sun doesn't shine.  My poor upper thigh and bum cheek have a scar from a very nasty rollerblading accident I had when I was 28.  The skin is really thin and tender.  A long time in the saddle and it sort of blisters.  I had to pull my tights down round my ankles and bend over while Ross applied a plaster.  Fortunately, I wasn't  having the pinching and chaffing elsewhere that I normally get so it was a good choice to abandon the padded shorts.  It is also a weight issue.  Do I really want to carry extra cycle specific clothing on the race?

Anyway, plastered up I got back on my bike and rode to the top of the punchbowl to see the morning sun shining over a lovely view.  We had a pause for a photo and were off again down the most spectacular 4km down-hill I have ever had  the joy of riding. It was so exhilarating. Pure adrenalin.  Just wish I had listened to everyone's advice and kept my jumper on....the goose bumps on my arms were more like goose eggs from the cold dawn wind as we sped down that hill!

At the bottom of the hill we started another climb and it was then that I realised I was spent. I asked Ross for a tow.  He gave me the tow rope which is a retractable dog lead and started to give me a bit of extra help on the hills.  You don't sit back and relax when you are on tow.  You still have to pedal and put some effort in but what it does is give you some much needed help and a psychological boost.  It went really well when we started but then one of the cheapo zip ties we had used to secure the dog lead to Ross's bike snapped.  No bother, the other one was holding and it held well for about half an hour and then ping! and I saw the other end of the retractable dog lead coming towards me a rate of knots. 

"It's snapped.  Have we got anymore ties, Ross?"

"No."

"Oh"

Truly I wanted to get off my bike, lie down on the side  of the road and cry.  Then Ross said, "We have to do this the old fashioned way."  And he came alongside me and put his hand on my back and pushed me up the hill. 

He pushed for many miles.

At the top of the hill, Andy said to me, "Do you want a gel?"

I thought I nodded but Will tells me that all I did was move my head fractionally.  I sucked down that gel as if my life depended on it. It was delicious.  He followed it up with a chocolate caramel wafer.  Ross carried on pushing me and we plugged away at it again.  Then suddenly there was the canal and we were only 5 km from home and my second wind kicked in.

We got on to the canal and I was flying again.  Legs pumping and feeling slightly euphoric. I reckon it was because I'd had a whiff of home or it could have been I had the urgent desire to use the loo!  We got back to the centre and I leapt of my bike like a scalded cat.  Runners' trots they call it. Less said the better, I think we will draw a veil there.

When I got back to our vw, Andy had already headed for home and Ross and Will were loading the bikes back on the rack. I suddenly felt full of energy and I said to Ross, "I could walk now."

Then I went home, climbed into bed and went to sleep for 3 1/2 hours. I woke up, had a shower, demanded that we go out for a McDonalds and went back to sleep.  That was Sunday.


I want to commend my teammates.  The guys were great at encouraging me.  Being the wife of one team member and mother of another could be quite problematic if we let it but it isn't.  Will and I have similar personalities and can either get on like a house on fire or clash terribly.  In the team that is not who we are.  Everybody has a role to play and is equally important to the team.  I really like 'teammate Will'.  He quietly says things like, "You all right Mum?" and "You are doing well" Andy's encouraging words, "I'm impressed you don't get off and push even when you stop on a hill, you just start again." and "You are doing well" really helped keep me going.  I also enjoyed the 'putting the world to rights' conversations and the random chats we had.  Ross is great at supporting me, taking up the slack physically.  The poor chap had to put up with me biting off his head the first time he asked me if I wanted a tow but when I really needed it...he towed me for miles.  The strength these 3 guys have is inspiring and I really don't want to let them down.


I think I had better start training harder.

 

***



Measurements and maps courtesy of http://www.endomondo.com


Kayak section                                   Hike section                                         Bike Section

      

A coat of many colours (16 June 2014)

I have been continuing to research the properties of coats and have now come to the conclusion that the coat Ross found for me may be the right one. (nothing like trusting your team captain's judgement!) It has got quite as high a waterproofing rating as the other make I was looking at but it does have pit zips.

I am sorry to be indelicate here but having zips under the armpits to improve ventilation is really helpful when you are exerting yourself in wet or cold weather.  The dilemma I have often faced is that I am sweating so much inside my coat that I want to take it off but, if I take it off I will get chilled.  Pit zips which allow the arm pits to well, sweat and get rid of the, um, excess liquid, are a great compromise.  So, now the only question that remains is what colour to get.

I was leaning towards bright green.  I thought that it's nice and bright.  It's not too girly (I am so over pink running kit...I went through a big pink phase when I started running) and it will be visible if I am being searched for should some disaster happen. Not, that I want any disaster to happen but I am married to a scout leader and the daughter of one so, "Be prepared" and all that.

But wait,  Ireland is green.  It is the Emerald Isle. Maybe green isn't such a good idea I might blend into the environment too much.

Aargh!  Now what?

The solution is clear...one of the mum's at my son's school suggested a Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat type arrangement.  They offered to have a sewing circle... I wish it was that simple. Another mum, who cycles competitively has pointed out that it doesn't matter because whatever colour it starts out it will be "an interesting brownish grey by the time you finish."

Hmmm.  So maybe the green will be ok after all.

Counting teeth (16 June 2014)

I have done some strange things in my life but this is right up there with the strangest.

I have a very basic mountain bike.  Yes, it has disc breaks and gears but it does weigh a ton and isn't a top of the range super duper model. I mainly chose it because it is pink and black and I wanted something other than the child's bike that I had had before then.  It was a definite step up and opened up a whole new world of adventure in the shape of single track and off road riding that I had never before experienced and which have I discovered that I love. Sadly however, it is a little bit overwhelmed by what I am asking it to do at the moment! Under normal circumstances this wouldn't be a problem but, these are not normal circumstances.  Yes I know a bad workman blames his tools but  the bike really is giving me some trouble.

The reason I have this bike is because of my past history.  I get fads.  So when I suggested to my husband that I would like to try an adventure race and entered a Questars event 2 1/2 years ago he thought it was a passing fancy. Yet another fad. (How wrong can you be?) Consequently, he  didn't want to fork out lots of cash on something that would last 5 minutes and the join the heaps of detritus from the other hobbies that I have had over the years.  In fact he wanted me to borrow a bike.  I had a little go on my sister's hybrid and said that actually I really rather want my own mountain bike.  So, we took a little trip to that well known bike and car parts shop and acquired my bike.  And for a while I had the best bike among the ladies I roe with.  But, that just shows that we had a really low quality bar to start with.  They all got better and nicer bikes over time but I carried on with my old faithful and really loved it.  However, I think the love affair may be coming to an end...

It is beginning to frustrate me. The gear levers get tighter and tighter the farther I ride.  This is an intermittent problem, some rides it happens and some it doesn't.  Bu there are times when I have had  to use my whole hand to change the gears rather than just a thumb.  Now, if I was going down or up a steep but smooth road that would not present a problem but try doing that on a gravel track at 35 km per hour and the need to have two hands on the handle bars becomes more obvious.

So this weekend I cut short my ride because the bike gears were misbehaving and Ross spent his Father's Day with the bike up on the maintenance stand trying to sort out the gears...again. 

But the thing that is exercising Ross the most about my bike is that it doesn't go as fast as his.  You might say, "Well just peddle faster."  It is not as simply as that.  I am in the top most gear, peddling flat out down a hill and have got no more 'push' left in the pedals.  In other words, I have run out of resistance and he and many others I have ridden with are pulling away from me, not yet having reach top gear on their bikes. It is so frustrating.  

I keep hearing from Ross, "Change gear!" 

My rather terse reply, "There are no more gears to change into, otherwise I would..."

We have had several theories about this, one is that it is because I am smaller and weigh less but the latest one had something to do with my teeth.

Not the teeth in my mouth, obviously, but the number of teeth on the front cogs of my bike. So right up there with some strange things I have had to do is counting the teeth on the front cogs of my bike.

I came home from my son's school sports ay to be greeted by this request from Ross to count the teeth on the cogs of the bike.  WHAT??

Other mothers will have gone home, made a cup of tea, put on a load of washing, started making the dinner. Not I.  No.  I got home, lifted my bike out of the shed.  (And that is another thing, why have I , the shortest adult in our family got to have my bike up on the highest rack?)

Anyway, I lifted the bike down and contemplated the mechanics of counting the teeth.  I decided to tip the bike upside down.  That done, I started counting the teeth on the big cog.  It seems a fairly simply thing to do.  Right?  Wrong!

I squatted down next to the front cassette. Cogs are round.  The teeth all look the same, greasy and if I am honest, a little mud splattered. How do I mark where I started and how do I get to the teeth that are now underneath and thus out of sight? I tried putting my finger on the tooth I was starting on and counting from there.  That worked until...I ran out of teeth and had to rotate the pedal to get to the ones at the bottom. That meant moving my finger that was marking where I had started.  Blast!  I had to begin again.

After the third attempt, I finally found a little identifying mark on the cog that I could use for a starting place and proceeded to count,

42 teeth on the big cog. 

Now I had to move the chain off the middle cog but, the gear levers are on the handle bars and the bike is upside down, so I can see the cogs.  I am contorting myself trying to remember which lever would operate the front derailier.  (Knowing left from right has never been my strong point)  I finally worked it out and flicked the gear lever to shift the chain.  Amazingly, it worked.  I didn't need to move it with my whole hand.  (Good old wd40 and the application of a screwdriver by Ross yesterday must have helped)

I was onto this counting teeth thing now, locating an identifying mark on the middle cog I counted the teeth quickly.    I repeated the process for the littlest cog.

34 on the middle cog.
24 on the little cog.

Job done.  I sent a text to Ross and backed it up with a phone call.  Maybe this would be it, I have the wrong number of teeth and I just need a different set of front cogs with more or less teeth. I have no idea of the mechanics of this. I listened expectantly to the silence as I passed on to Ross the number of teeth I have.  Surely this was it, problem solved?

Guess what? 

"Hmmm," says Ross.  The number of teeth is not the problem."

Apparently that is standards configuration for a mountain bike.

"I will have to think again," says he.

 You are joking. I went through all that palarvar for nothing!

Perhaps it would be better if we took a quick trip to a bike shop.  I know just the model I want.  Hydraulic disc breaks, 27 1/2 inch wheels,  full sus...I can dream can't I?

I have nothing to wear... (14 June 2014)

If you'd have told me 3 months ago that I would spend ages looking at the difference between hard shell and rain shell jackets and the minutiae between different brands I'd have told you that you were smoking your socks. But.... this morning that is exactly what I have done.

I don't have a suitable rain coat for the race.  I have loads of coats.  Believe me, loads.  I like matching coats to outfits, that is when I get to where anything other than sports kit.  I am a girl after all. Although my family often seem to forget this, seeing me either as 'mum' or as a mud-covered sweating blob after various training sessions. I digress.  I need a coat for the race.  On Wednesday night we sat and went through the kit list for the race.  I seem to need quite a lot of stuff.  I obviously have the basics such as shoes and a bike but apparently there are some things I haven't got and a good-quality lightweight rain coat that doesn't turn into a sieve at a sniff of ran is one of the things I need.

I woke up early today, naturally, it being Saturday, when I could have stayed asleep longer, my body alarm clock decided to wake me up.  So, as people of the modern age often do, I reached for my phone and flicked through my emails.  There was one from Ross (who, incidentally, was lying in bed next to me sleeping deeply)  His email came with a link to Amazon for a particular coat. It looked good. But, I read the amazon reviews and felt it might be a good idea to seek expert opinion so I made the mistake of trawling the internet looking for comparisons and reviews and  as it often does, my search snowballed and now, I am even more undecided than before.

Instead of sticking to comparing apples with apples and simply looking at rain jackets, I got caught up into the world of hard shell versus rain shell. They are both breathable and water resistant but did you know that the hard shell is slightly better but heavier? No, nor did I.  I found that hard shells have three layers and rain shells 2 to 2 1/2 layers. I know that hard shells are better than rain shells for professionals who spend long periods of time outside in extreme conditions.  Does 40 hours in Irish rain count as extreme conditions?

I have learnt about the science behind waterproofing and breathability.  I have discovered that you should roll your coat into its hood to protect its durability and waterproofing. I now know that I should wash my coat regularly and  re-waterproof frequently but that it is better to use a spray on rather than a wash in product. Well that is useful to know.

In the last hour, I have become something of a self-taught expert on it all which will be great when I actually get my coat because so far I haven't made any progress on what coat I am going to buy...although I have narrowed it down to three colours!

Beware: the hazards of wildlife! (7 June 2014)

When I entered the Beast of Ballyhoura I got lots of warnings and advice about what I needed to do and not to do, what kit I would need and what training I would need to do, but nobody and I mean nobody, warned of the hazards of coming into contact with wildlife whilst training in the English countryside...

Whilst being British born, I spent a large portion of my formative years in South Africa.  Growing up in Africa I have had a rather superior attitude to the risks of encounters with British wildlife. I humbly apologise!  My training has helped me to revise that opinion.  I must stress that I adore British Countryside and wildlife however, I have new found respect for it all.  And have come to the conclusion that the smaller they are, the more hazardous they can be.

I have, in the past,  run into a beautiful badger which could have been quite risky but he glanced at me and trotted off, unconcerned. I have come across the odd fox at the waters' edge or seen a tail disappearing into the bushes as I run along. There have been bunnies glimpsed amongst the trees and fish through the waters.  On many occasions, I have had the privilege of watching stags graze inside the military ranges (brave creatures) and then there is all the teaming birdlife along and on the canal.  There are several resident herons who only flap off a few metres as I ride towards them on my bike and who completely ignore me in the kayak. Saturday saw a very close encounter with one particular grey gentleman who had no idea that the bike would continue to keep moving towards him as he flapped up and landed perhaps 2 m further down the path.  He gave in eventually and flew across the canal away from the tow path.

Last week, I spent a lot of time kayaking which was fantastic and I had the joy of seeing all the little moorhen and coot chicks, the ducklings and goslings afloat on the water.  This is particularly challenging in a kayak which likes to go in a straight line because the little moorhens don't seem to have any concept of the possibility of a collision.  I had to take very rapid evasive action accompanied by shrieks of horror that the little chap might get impaled on the pointy end of the boat. 

Of course there is the well known danger of swans.  How can a thing of such beauty be so grumpy? I always give them a wide berth.  It's the way they glare at you down their long beaks with a baleful eye, it gives me the willies!  And I can't tell you how many times I have nearly tripped over or squashed a grey squirrel whilst running and cycling.

Much of the contact with British wildlife is benign but some, well some, is positively deadly...

The most obvious danger from wildlife is that of being eaten alive.

This risk is mostly found on the waterways of Britain! Particularly, the Basingstoke Canal in my experience. The problem lies with the plague level swarms of mosquitoes and midges that have made the canal their home.  You can, if not careful return from a pleasant little pootling paddle almost bitten to death.  These vicious creatures show no mercy to their victims and don't seem to care if you wear repellent.  I think they see this as a particular challenge.  You go out on to the water smelling aromatically of citronella oil and return, bumpy skinned and itchy and in some cases bleeding. They swarms of wicked beasties blacken the air above the water and take malicious delight in attacking the poor unwary kayaker. 

And, if you happen to open your mouth.... beware! You have to use your teeth like a tea strainer.  All right for some but I have an overbite. And if that orifice isn't enough the wretched things fly up your nose.  Try that on for size when you are sitting in a racing kayak and a tiny weight shift can send you hurtling into the depths.  The horrid little thing shot up my nose like a rat up a drain pipe and I felt it almost hit my sinuses.  I was snorting and snuffling and desperately trying to not fall out of the toothpick of a boat, also known as k1 racing kayak. 

"What's wrong with you?" asked Ross.

"I have a bug up my nose!" I cried in great distress, all dignity was lost as I started blowing great gusts out of my nose and squeaking in horror. 

But worse was to come.

The biggest danger to the adventure racer whilst training in Britain is the choking hazard known as..."THE BUG SUCK"  The bugs of Britain have an unerring, almost radar like ability to find the open mouth.

Having suffered the indignity of a bug up my nose and survived the swarms of mosquitoes, the glaring swans and 4 hours on the water, including kayaking for miles in the lashing rain, I noshed a peanut butter sandwich and hopped on my bike. This was for 43km dash along the canal and back home.  I was going for speed and distance so there I was peddling along, enjoying the now clear skies and the warm sun that was drying out my damp tri-suit.  I was really going for it,  mouth open, breath coming in gasps.... little did I realise that danger was so imminent.

 Suddenly out of nowhere a deadly invader flew into my mouth, on an inhale. I felt its wings as it flew down my throat on its kamikaze mission, hitting my epiglottis and disappearing into the unknown. Gasping and choking, I came to an immediate stop. Spluttering, I tried to hork the wretched thing back up my throat but, to no avail.  Hunting for breath and hoping to drown the little blighter, I gulped water down my raw throat.  My lungs were bursting, tears streamed down my face.

I must apologise to that poor couple who thought they might have to do mouth to mouth on a strange, choking, mud-covered middle aged woman who could only gesticulate wildly at her chest and gasp out, "Bug".

So all you experienced adventure racers, don't give people advice on shoes, blisters, energy foods....rather warn them of grumpy swans, stubborn herons, plagues of mosquitoes and most of all warn them about the hazards of the Bug Suck.

William's Enforced Rest 26 May 2014

Oh dear.  Our hyperactive team member, Will is having to endure a two week break from running.  Honestly, as we live with him it is a bit of a punishment for us too! Will doesn't do indoors and inactivity.  He has two modes: on-the-go or asleep. Help!  It is like living with a caged lion with shin splints...

And he is anti-drugs so until today has refused to take anti-inflammatories.

We are counting down the days. 

Ups and Downs in training (17-23 May)

I run my training week from Saturday to Friday.  A bit random, I know, but it works for me.

Total training distance: 84.07 km
Total training hours: 16 hours 40 minutes
This has been a great week for training.

Saturday was a double session. I set out to do a run but decided that actually what I need to concentrate on was my walking skills.  I invited Ross along for the walk.  He was nursing his knee a bit so he was very pleased to have a gentle walk with me!  Gentle... well, I made the mistake of letting Ross decide the route.... and he took me to a place up near the military ranges that he calls the "three peaks."  He had me practicing 'rough descents'.  I had no idea what I had let myself in for, I think I prefer going up hill.  I was getting down on my bum a bit, inching my way down slopes.  Eventually, I got my confidence and was leaning forward downhill to increase my speed.

Actually, I was rather pleased with myself and even thought I might go up there and have another go later on in my training programme.

After lunch Ross went out on his bike with Andy.  They went out for a looong cycle and they only got back just before I did and I went out ages after them.  My brother in law came round with his and my sister's children, they were joining us for dinner.  In exchange for dinner he provided baby sitting services (all my built in baby-sitters in the form of older children were either out on a date
or a work - how inconsiderate!!)  So about 4 o-clock I got on my trusty cycle and went for an absolutely lovely ride. I was aiming to keep my speed to an average15-16km per hour over the 2 hours.  It was a combination of on and off road.  I started off down the gravel track where we do our cycle hill sprints.  I really got a good head of steam going on that path but I hit a loose patch of gravel and came very close to seeing my backside!

It was more than a training cycle, it was a memorial cycle for a dear friend who past away from cancer last Thursday.  We had travelled along a beautiful road to Guildford many time together in the 18 months before her passing.  I had said to her on many occasions that I would love to ride that road.  So, on Saturday, as my own little farewell to her, I cycled up the road we had driven down so many times.  It was a ride of tears and determination.  It was a ride for Melissa and it taught me that I could push on, even when shattered and hungry and I was able to say to myself, "if she could endure so much, I can cycle up this hill." 

Farewell Melissa.


Sunday, as always, was a rest day and I felt it was well-deserved rest after my efforts of the day before.  I had the most delicious upside down lemon meringue pie pudding....I had better exercise hard for the rest of the week.

I was the only woman that turned up to club on Monday night. It was a speed session for me.  The men all went of for a slowish run together  but Ross had to stay late at the office so he missed out. For once Jack, our second oldest son,  joined the rest of us for a run.  He is training for a 24 hour team race called the 12 labours of Hercules in July. I pottered off up the long hill that leads to the off-road gravel track that is ideal for speed work.  I marked out a 200m stretch of track and did 5 reps whilst also taking a phone call from my brother-in-law, about joining the kayaking club!

I was rather chuffed with my performance and was full of it when I came back to meet up with all the chaps at the end of the evening.  Andy was complaining that he had had a really rubbish run.  It sounded like he felt like he was running through treacle.  I hate those runs - I felt for him.

Go Team! 21 May 2014

Some fun stats for team Beacon AR:
In the past 5 days the 4 team members have covered a total of 440.23 km (271.4 miles) in kayak, on bike and on foot.
Top of the mileage heap is Andy who has clocked up 128.24km, followed by Will with 121,4 km, close behind him is Ross on 119km and I am bringing up the rear with 71.36km.
Go team!

And how did I work this all out?  On the back of a napkin in Costa.  Will took me out for a late mother’s day coffee and instead of talking about the things most mothers and sons chat about we were completely consumed by race training and how much we had done.

 This race is taking over my life.