Friday 25 July 2014:
There is so much to do ,I feel like my head is going to explode!
Andy and Ross have been sending emails with lists and spread sheets attached. These make me panic. My considered response to this kind of email is to pretend that they don't exist. Any other kind of mail about the race, I'm on it, but a spread sheet or job chart......oh dear they bring me out in a cold sweat.
Today after my regular sports massage session, I came home full of good intentions to sort out the kit mountain in the lounge but I got distracted by writing the blog and then went to the movies with my son instead. It was a cute movie. It was special time with my boy. And then....
"Did you look at my email about the menu and food shop?" Ross asked me, when he got in from work, this evening.
"Er, no
I had to confess I hadn't.
Apparently this weekend is it. Everything has to be bought and packed and...and...and...EEEEK!
I am reacting by becoming inert and entering into a state of disbelief. I can't quite get my head around the magnitude of the task ahead consequently, I have had what my son would call a 'brain fart'.
Slow deep breaths Emma, slow deep breaths.
I will approach this logically and one step at a time. I must on some sub-conscious level be preparing because I have sorted out and tidied up all my sports kit.
I have officially stopped training and am now in pre-race, rest and recover mode. My groin is still niggling, so I need this time. I have been told to use ice packs to help bring down any swelling. That is fine in theory, but have you ever put an ice pack down there for a prolonged period? And whilst in theory this is a rest period, in practice we are hurtling towards leaving day at a rate of knots and there is a lot to do.
Saturday 26 July 2014:
Ross has sheaves of lists and schedules printed out. He took one of our sons to kayak training and I went through the menu and shopping list. I am starting to get a handle on it. We then dashed about getting last minute bits and pieces that we decided we needed before heading to our church building, so we could spread all our kit about and go through the tasks and roles that we will all take during the transition zones during the race. These zones are the replenishment points for our food supplies and where we would get on or off our bikes. I am on food duty and taking notes.
We also checked that we had all the mandatory kit we needed and discovered there were one or two items that we need still. I also discovered whilst sitting at on the floor next to my kit that all my trainers stink like rotten cheese....Yuck! I had to move away from them. I am really glad my nose is far from my feet because I am not looking forward to spending 40 hours in the company of those shoes!
We also discussed strategy (trying to get to all the mandatory check points) and the goal (to cross the finish line together)
Sunday 27 July 2014:
A fairly normal Sunday but in the evening we started weighing white powder into plastic bags.... This is more innocent than it sounds, we portioned out all the energy drinks and the meal replacement powder into zip lock bags so that we can get to it more easily and dilute it without measuring it out first. It does look a bit odd though....
Monday 28 July 2014:
I had my final sports massage followed by a mad dash around the shops to get last minute bits and buy all the food that we will need such as the nuts, dried fruit, lunch bits and veggies for the meals I am cooking. I also remembered to buy the dogs and cats food so that they won't go hungry while we are away...as long as Jack, our son, remembers to feed them....I am sure he will....I have filled the freezer with food for him too, so he won't starve, although at his age he is quite capable of feeding himself.
I spent the evening sorting and piling the food onto the dining room table.....It is chockablock! There is literally nowhere to sit in the lounge side of the room either. Kit, race food, etc. everywhere. The poor dog can't get to his bed and looks confused by the maze of boxes we have created. I had a busy day but hooray, my youngest came home from cub camp so I was thrilled to see him! Although when it came to a nice family meal to celebrate his return, we didn't have anywhere to sit and found ourselves perching anywhere we could.
Tuesday 29 July 2014:
Of course, I pick one of the hottest days of the year to be cooking 3 full dinners in my tiny furnace of a kitchen! I made the pasta bolognaise sauce for the night before the race, the mousaka for our dinner and the Thai chicken curry for when we get back.... I looked the same colour as a Santa suit. I was very relieved to go out for an ice cream with my youngest boy. The ice cream followed bowling, guess who won? I only scored 29, it was a complete whitewash. It was not my finest hour!! I haven't a hope of hitting a target if there is a shooting section in this race. Back home, I spent time doing more sorting and faffing about, including a text discussion with Andy about the team description for the race organisers.
Wednesday 30 July 2014:
The ehic cards are applied for, the travel insurance is organised....
I managed to buy the biltong and droewors, fill gas bottles that we need and do the mummy thing with my youngest two...took them out for lunch and got conned into buying yet more loom bands. (Any parent out there of a children aged between 6 and 14 should know about these little elastic bands!) When I came home, I spent time looking at the pile of clothes I need to insert into a bag and decided to watch my little boy make a loom bands owl for me instead.. As I put the resulting elastic band triumph on my race bag, you could say it was time spent doing race prep...
Suddenly it was 6 pm and the boys were meant to be at my sister's at about 5.... uh oh!
"Quickly boys pack....."
"Mummy, I have no boxers..."
"What do I need to take?"
Me, yelling slightly in a panic, "Get boxers out of the tumble dryer, find socks in the sock box, pack three t-shirts, don't forget your water shoes, you are going kayaking....PLEEEASE pack!!"
Finally, we got into the car with their age appropriate, mandatory equipment: a laptop, a teddy, a nerf gun and the loom bands. (I hope the clothes went too...)
Lots of hugs and kisses later ("we will track you mummy and pray for you") I am just back from dropping the boys at my sister's and picking up the tent. Ross is on the driveway doing last minute adjustments to the bikes, fitting bike computers, extra bottle holders and so on. I am writing this, Will is packing his bag and I am waiting for the beans to be cooked so we can have dinner. Jack is hiding somewhere away from the mayhem.
Then I have some decisions to make about which 3 t-shirts to take and then I will finally chuck my clothes in a bag and throw the stuff in the car. For tomorrow morning, at 6, we leave for Ireland.
I can feel my whole world shrinking into thinking about the race. Race focus which had deserted me in the face of all the last minute packing has returned. I really hope we finish. I have a bubble of excitement in my tummy.....
God bless, speak soon....I will report back as soon as I can! Think of us this weekend the race starts 2 am on Saturday morning.
So, this is it folks, everything we trained for and planned for is coming down to 40 hours in Ireleand....
Beast of Ballyhoura, here we come!
Wednesday, 30 July 2014
Friday, 25 July 2014
Food Glorious food
I make no bones about it, I am a girl who loves her food. Fancy or fast, healthy or dripping in saturated fats, I adore it. I love to cook it, bake it, eat it and I love to eat out.... Although when I say eat out, I am not sure I mean eat out of a zip-lock bag, in the middle of nowhere, on the side of a hill while hurtling down it at a hundred miles an hour, on a mountain bike.
So I think the time has come at long last to let you into my inner most thoughts on race food. The first thing that happens is that food becomes fuel. It is important for it's energy value and taste is secondary.
Adventure racers are a pretty friendly bunch in my (limited) experience. They share ideas and tell horror stories (they are worse than women with their birth stories) about various races and exploits they have got up to. Yep, a pretty friendly bunch except when it comes to...food, specifically race food, that is a prickly subject.
Race nutrition has been at the root of many heated debates among the various groups of people I have trained with. Some, doing shorter/ stage races don't use anything at all and there are those who recommend constant grazing from start to finish, no matter the length of the event. There have been discussions on the use of energy drinks (ranging from they are rubbish, to they are vital) and gels (it would seem you either love them or hate them) and the meal replacement drinks....well!
I am no expert on nutrition in the capital N sense of the word. I know a bit about it because I want to stay healthy and feed my family well but I am not a professional. What I have learnt, I have gleaned along the way and also because I am quite interested in food....particularly yummy food!
In our team we all have definite ideas on what we do or do not like to use for nutrition and energy while training and eating. I think that the biggest factors in decided whether we believe something works are taste and texture, not maximum calories nor whether it is slow or quick release energy.
We will be using energy drinks but even then there are different opinions and brand loyalty! I am not fussed about the brand as long as they work and I think they are fantastic and they seem to work for me. They have the added advantage that they are something different from water and variety is good. Also, I have experienced nausea when doing long term extreme exercise and that is when they really help. I am also a convert to the zero cal electrolytes although I found it quite weird to drink a salty fruit flavoured drink but they really have helped me with cramping and replacing salts. So far, so good. Not much contention there...
Now let me type one little word: gels! You know what they say about don't mention money, politics and religion....well among my racing acquaintances there are some who would add energy gels to that list. Ross hates them. It's a texture thing and I get that, I really do. I think they are a necessary evil. I hate jelly but I can cope with racing gels. They are generally palatable, easily digestible (really important when you experience nausea.) and they are a good source of short term energy. I know it is short term but they have their place, although I definitely wouldn't use them exclusively. Too many and you get furry teeth and the inside of your mouth feels like it's claggy and coated with glue. But, 1-2 an hour mixed in with other stuff is great. Sadly, they do have a serious draw back: gel hands! Picture this, it was my first ever 2 day stage race. It was a beautiful warm October day, I was in an all woman team and I was using gels as part of the nutrition regime for the race. We had cycled to the top of the South Downs, the view was spectacular. I decided to have a little nibble so I reached round into the side pocket of my rucksack to grab out a black current flavoured gel. I held it in one hand and ripped off the top with the other. Gel explosion!! It literally poured out everywhere, I tried to get it into my mouth and it poured down my chin. My hands were covered, my face was covered. I tried to lick it off my hands. I needed the precious energy it contained...but although the gel is gone, the stickiness remains. My hands felt like they had super glue on them. I tried to pour a bit of water from my hydration pack on to my hands. That didn't work...flippin' bite valve... means I can't get the water out without using my teeth on the opening. So I was having to suck water out of the tube and spit it on my hands... I rubbed away at the gel but to no avail....now I had spit and gel on my hands. I gave up and tried to wipe them on the back of my cycle shorts which I had forgotten are slightly muddy. Now I have a heady mix of mud, spit and gel on my hands. I gave up. I decided it was time to carry on and so I reluctantly grabbed on to my handlebars. I was stuck to them!! My hands have been glued to them by the gel.
Grrreat!
Adventure Racing, I do it for fun you know!
And, gels are super....I really like them.
As I mentioned, Ross, hates them. He seems to favour trail mix. I have to say, after 12 hours on trail mix during our overnight training session I had gone off it a bit. It was the homogonized flavour I found distressing after a while. I make our own trail mix. We favour salted cashews, salted peanuts, little bits of ginger and raisins and the odd jelly baby. I package it up into small zip lock bags and we are set. This is great for short training sessions or very short (sprint) races. The other problem often experienced, is how after several hours of salted mixed nuts and raisins, the inside of your mouth starts to feel like it has been sandpapered.... It's horrible.
So there you are sandpapered, gluey mouth....sounds like the makings of fabulous gastronomy, doesn't it?
You thought it couldn't get worse?
You thought wrong...
The great horror is the meal replacement drink. I mean who ever heard of replacing the delights of chewing with sipping and gulping? And deary me, what a contentious issue it is. The meal replacement drink... there are some very strong opinions about that. Andy comes down firmly in the no camp, whilst Ross is a yes-campaigner. I am on the fence and William being a teenager, will probably eat the packaging it came in, if he was hungry enough.
So, today I reluctantly received a delivery of 2 tubs complete meal replacement. And, for the sake of not being sued by its makers, I will not be revealing its name. I will use it because it works but it has to be said, I am not sure I like it. You see, there is no gastronomic satisfaction in drinking your dinner. You take a certain amount of this powder and mix it with the (correct) amount of water and tadaa! A Gourmet Treat! It fills you up, it certainly provides you with the energy, vitamins and minerals that you need during intense activity but it doesn't leave you feeling fulfilled like dinner should. You see, you can't get emotionally involved with a sort of milk-less milkshake the way you can with a muffin. (I wish they made energy muffins but sadly there is still a huge gap in the market.
At least, the night before the race we have pasta bolognaise to look forward to. This I will prepare in advance in Surrey and then we will drive all the way to Ireland with our dinner, in a hopefully water-tight plastic box (there's a recipe for disaster!!) . That's ok. I've no problems with that. But then for the 40 hours after that this is what our meals will look like,
liquid dinner/breakfast
trail mix
cereal bars
salami (yuck!!sorry but I do prefer ham)
mini cheeses
pita bread
boiled eggs
boil in the bag food (This I have never experienced, I am a little afraid...)
jelly babies
energy gels
energy drinks
electrolyte drinks
pronutro (similar to redibrek)
more energy gels
more energy drinks
more liquid meals
dark chocolate
biltong (horrible salty shoe leather: sorry to my South African friends and relatives)
droe wors (dried sausage, marginally better than biltong)
(This list isn't in order and it isn't complete but truly when I looked at the menu that Ross has typed up, I loss the will and the true horror of going without a proper meal and replacing it with a stream of energy producing nutrition, dawned on me.)
The problem is the overwhelming sweetness of energy foods. There is a brief nod to flavour but really these foods are fuel. High octane unleaded fuel, but fuel non-the-less. The gels for example come in fruit flavours as do the drinks and the cereal bars are maple flavoured. I have a sweet tooth but after a while, I just want a steak! A big bloody one with chips....That is why we have thrown in things like boiled eggs and cheese (I know there isn't much comparison to steak but at least they aren't sweet and high a high protein and good nutritional value)
With endurance sports, I have been taught to eat every 20 to 30 minutes, a handful of nuts, a cereal bar or a gel helps keep your energy levels up at good levels instead of using it all up and crashing a burning and starting from scratch again. But think of me when you sit down to your dinners while I am out there slogging it out on the hills and slopes of Ireland. Think of me....
I really must remember, I am doing this for fun....I really am?!
So I think the time has come at long last to let you into my inner most thoughts on race food. The first thing that happens is that food becomes fuel. It is important for it's energy value and taste is secondary.
Adventure racers are a pretty friendly bunch in my (limited) experience. They share ideas and tell horror stories (they are worse than women with their birth stories) about various races and exploits they have got up to. Yep, a pretty friendly bunch except when it comes to...food, specifically race food, that is a prickly subject.
Race nutrition has been at the root of many heated debates among the various groups of people I have trained with. Some, doing shorter/ stage races don't use anything at all and there are those who recommend constant grazing from start to finish, no matter the length of the event. There have been discussions on the use of energy drinks (ranging from they are rubbish, to they are vital) and gels (it would seem you either love them or hate them) and the meal replacement drinks....well!
I am no expert on nutrition in the capital N sense of the word. I know a bit about it because I want to stay healthy and feed my family well but I am not a professional. What I have learnt, I have gleaned along the way and also because I am quite interested in food....particularly yummy food!
In our team we all have definite ideas on what we do or do not like to use for nutrition and energy while training and eating. I think that the biggest factors in decided whether we believe something works are taste and texture, not maximum calories nor whether it is slow or quick release energy.
We will be using energy drinks but even then there are different opinions and brand loyalty! I am not fussed about the brand as long as they work and I think they are fantastic and they seem to work for me. They have the added advantage that they are something different from water and variety is good. Also, I have experienced nausea when doing long term extreme exercise and that is when they really help. I am also a convert to the zero cal electrolytes although I found it quite weird to drink a salty fruit flavoured drink but they really have helped me with cramping and replacing salts. So far, so good. Not much contention there...
Now let me type one little word: gels! You know what they say about don't mention money, politics and religion....well among my racing acquaintances there are some who would add energy gels to that list. Ross hates them. It's a texture thing and I get that, I really do. I think they are a necessary evil. I hate jelly but I can cope with racing gels. They are generally palatable, easily digestible (really important when you experience nausea.) and they are a good source of short term energy. I know it is short term but they have their place, although I definitely wouldn't use them exclusively. Too many and you get furry teeth and the inside of your mouth feels like it's claggy and coated with glue. But, 1-2 an hour mixed in with other stuff is great. Sadly, they do have a serious draw back: gel hands! Picture this, it was my first ever 2 day stage race. It was a beautiful warm October day, I was in an all woman team and I was using gels as part of the nutrition regime for the race. We had cycled to the top of the South Downs, the view was spectacular. I decided to have a little nibble so I reached round into the side pocket of my rucksack to grab out a black current flavoured gel. I held it in one hand and ripped off the top with the other. Gel explosion!! It literally poured out everywhere, I tried to get it into my mouth and it poured down my chin. My hands were covered, my face was covered. I tried to lick it off my hands. I needed the precious energy it contained...but although the gel is gone, the stickiness remains. My hands felt like they had super glue on them. I tried to pour a bit of water from my hydration pack on to my hands. That didn't work...flippin' bite valve... means I can't get the water out without using my teeth on the opening. So I was having to suck water out of the tube and spit it on my hands... I rubbed away at the gel but to no avail....now I had spit and gel on my hands. I gave up and tried to wipe them on the back of my cycle shorts which I had forgotten are slightly muddy. Now I have a heady mix of mud, spit and gel on my hands. I gave up. I decided it was time to carry on and so I reluctantly grabbed on to my handlebars. I was stuck to them!! My hands have been glued to them by the gel.
Grrreat!
Adventure Racing, I do it for fun you know!
And, gels are super....I really like them.
As I mentioned, Ross, hates them. He seems to favour trail mix. I have to say, after 12 hours on trail mix during our overnight training session I had gone off it a bit. It was the homogonized flavour I found distressing after a while. I make our own trail mix. We favour salted cashews, salted peanuts, little bits of ginger and raisins and the odd jelly baby. I package it up into small zip lock bags and we are set. This is great for short training sessions or very short (sprint) races. The other problem often experienced, is how after several hours of salted mixed nuts and raisins, the inside of your mouth starts to feel like it has been sandpapered.... It's horrible.
So there you are sandpapered, gluey mouth....sounds like the makings of fabulous gastronomy, doesn't it?
You thought it couldn't get worse?
You thought wrong...
The great horror is the meal replacement drink. I mean who ever heard of replacing the delights of chewing with sipping and gulping? And deary me, what a contentious issue it is. The meal replacement drink... there are some very strong opinions about that. Andy comes down firmly in the no camp, whilst Ross is a yes-campaigner. I am on the fence and William being a teenager, will probably eat the packaging it came in, if he was hungry enough.
So, today I reluctantly received a delivery of 2 tubs complete meal replacement. And, for the sake of not being sued by its makers, I will not be revealing its name. I will use it because it works but it has to be said, I am not sure I like it. You see, there is no gastronomic satisfaction in drinking your dinner. You take a certain amount of this powder and mix it with the (correct) amount of water and tadaa! A Gourmet Treat! It fills you up, it certainly provides you with the energy, vitamins and minerals that you need during intense activity but it doesn't leave you feeling fulfilled like dinner should. You see, you can't get emotionally involved with a sort of milk-less milkshake the way you can with a muffin. (I wish they made energy muffins but sadly there is still a huge gap in the market.
At least, the night before the race we have pasta bolognaise to look forward to. This I will prepare in advance in Surrey and then we will drive all the way to Ireland with our dinner, in a hopefully water-tight plastic box (there's a recipe for disaster!!) . That's ok. I've no problems with that. But then for the 40 hours after that this is what our meals will look like,
liquid dinner/breakfast
trail mix
cereal bars
salami (yuck!!sorry but I do prefer ham)
mini cheeses
pita bread
boiled eggs
boil in the bag food (This I have never experienced, I am a little afraid...)
jelly babies
energy gels
energy drinks
electrolyte drinks
pronutro (similar to redibrek)
more energy gels
more energy drinks
more liquid meals
dark chocolate
biltong (horrible salty shoe leather: sorry to my South African friends and relatives)
droe wors (dried sausage, marginally better than biltong)
(This list isn't in order and it isn't complete but truly when I looked at the menu that Ross has typed up, I loss the will and the true horror of going without a proper meal and replacing it with a stream of energy producing nutrition, dawned on me.)
The problem is the overwhelming sweetness of energy foods. There is a brief nod to flavour but really these foods are fuel. High octane unleaded fuel, but fuel non-the-less. The gels for example come in fruit flavours as do the drinks and the cereal bars are maple flavoured. I have a sweet tooth but after a while, I just want a steak! A big bloody one with chips....That is why we have thrown in things like boiled eggs and cheese (I know there isn't much comparison to steak but at least they aren't sweet and high a high protein and good nutritional value)
With endurance sports, I have been taught to eat every 20 to 30 minutes, a handful of nuts, a cereal bar or a gel helps keep your energy levels up at good levels instead of using it all up and crashing a burning and starting from scratch again. But think of me when you sit down to your dinners while I am out there slogging it out on the hills and slopes of Ireland. Think of me....
I really must remember, I am doing this for fun....I really am?!
Thursday, 17 July 2014
Race Invaders
Oh. My. Goodness. This race really is taking over my life and my home
It's invaded every aspect of it.
My house is one giant kit room.
Today I have done a survey. My house is littered with kit. Lounge. what lounge? The lounge is home to at least one cycle helmet (resident on the piano) and I discovered, another one lurking in a dark corner on a coffee table. There are several rucksacks/running bags which hang on the back of the dining chairs or are tripping hazards in the middle of the sitting area. A variety of water bottles can be found on whatever flat surface they have been dumped or, if they have made it back to the kitchen they teeter on the edge of the shelves, waiting to dive bomb the head of the unwary person loading the dishwasher below them.
My kayak kit is resting peacefully on the antique child's arm chair, ready to be used as and when...Then there's the box of race food that has been delivered via Mr Posty and is now parked in front of the Welsh dresser. Not to mention so many pairs of running shoes.
Oh the running shoes. They are everywhere and truly, nearly all of them belong to Ross. He sheds them the way a snake sheds its skin. The used ones shed little flakes of drying mud like a bad case of dandruff under the radiator in the hall (mine) in the middle of the lounge or kitchen (Ross) In fact, at one point Ross had 3 pairs of them parked in various locations in my kitchen which quite frankly is not big enough to peel an onion in. Then he has a new pair resting all clean and lovely in the shoe box on the settee, alongside this is the emergency shelter. On the welsh dresser there's a glasses holder on strap (for kayaking) and the kayaking gloves
The dining room table is the new home for a random bike pump. Alongside that is the pile of kit that I ordered on line which is the wrong size and I need to return. I will get round to it...
Meanwhile, on the counter top, in the kitchen there is a puncture repair kit (because we might need it urgently while cooking dinner!!) . Energy foods are colonising my cupboards and you know those water bottles I mentioned earlier? I think they are breeding. Although there never seem to be enough lids for the bottoms.
There's heaps of damp used kayak kit in front of the washing machine, in the aforementioned tiny kitchen and there's lots of kit gently steaming in the bathroom waiting for the washing fairy (whom I introduced to you in an earlier post) to get exasperated and wash. Next to the back door are someone (who knows whose, water shoes) meanwhile mine are next to my bed (you never know when I might need to wade from the bedroom to anywhere in the house.)
Speaking of the bedroom, gone is the peaceful sanctuary, gone! Now my dressing table, where I use to put on make up and do my hair (no point now...too busy wearing sports kit and training! Make up just slides off along with the sweat.) So now, my dressing table is home to a pair of partially used socks (mine) which I can get another training session out of and various running waist bags including the waterproof phone holder. There are piles of kit to be reused on the dressing table stool and stashed on the top of the cupboards over the bed are various compasses and bits and pieces that we will need...probably.
It's not that we are messy or disorganised or anything. Okay it is. But, under normal circumstances, all the kit has a proper home. The trouble is that as time has gone by, and race preparation has become an all consuming activity it seems that, by mutual agreement, or mutual exhaustion, we have taken to leaving our stuff just where we dumped it in order to grab it the very next time we go out... because there is always going to be a next time and it may well be in the next few hours.
Of course, it isn't just the physical invasion that I am experiencing. No, it is how much head space it is taking up. Over the last few years, when Ross got closer to the events he was entered into, I noticed that although he was with us in body, he was definitely absent in every other way. It used to drive me absolutely potty. Ross, I apologise!! I now understand entirely, I am so there!
Here's an example of how much it is invading my head. Sunday morning I woke up and the first thing I did was to use the calculator on my phone to divide 263km by 40 hours to work out what our average speed needed to be. I think I am managing to wangle the race into nearly every conversation I have, even with complete strangers. And along with this is a growing sense of excitement and trepidation. I just want to train, think about training and think about the kit I still need to get...I mean whoever thought that I could get so excited about a rucksack!
I am not one of those women who have a thing about handbags. Shoes yes, but bags neh! Despite this I have managed to spend literally hours looking for the right, lightweight racing backpack...After intensive research and debate with Ross, this weekend I made a decision and today, I went and picked it up from the Post Office. Still got to get the wetsuit though...
Last week, before the doc said to take some time off, (That prison sentence is over tomorrow - hooray!) I could only think about how much I wanted to train. The best day of the week was the one where I spent nearly 5 hours on my bike riding trails around Swinley woods. Brilliant!
The last three days, in a different kind of training, brain training, I have been finding little encouraging sayings to motivate us during the race. (I wonder how well they will go down with my team mates after 24 hours of energy expending and no sleep?) As a result of this total race focus, things I used to do, like work, have been put on the back burner. Our grocery shop now is done more on an emergency basis than a planned, hours-long expedition that may eat into valuable training time.
The other thing I have noticed is how my attitude to food has changed. Apart from the fact I seem to be permanently hungry and while I hoover up anything in my path given half a chance, there is also the startling realisation that now I want things to have lots of calories in them so that I can use the energy...
This race is seriously messing with my head!!
And of course, nobody mentioned to me what an impact it would have on my wardrobe...not as a result of the calories (don't even go there...) Despite my passion for shoes, this summer my stunning purple sky high wedges have languished at the back of the cupboard because if I wear them, I might fall off them and twist my ankle. My shoe choice used to be dictated by my clothes choice but not anymore. I want to wear comfy shoes with the right support that will not cause my Achilles to twinge or my fasciitis to flare up....what is happening to me?
It is even impacting on my hairstyle. I have long hair and I used to love spending time doing different hairstyles. Once, Ross said to me that his favourite thing I did with my hair was a French plait. I bet he wishes he could eat his words....that is the only thing I do with it now. It keeps it out of the way and you can get a bike helmet over it and of course you can wash your hair and stick it straight back in the plait... Who would have thought that the Beast of Ballyhoura would become my hairdresser?
I definitely think I have got a case of race invaders!
It's invaded every aspect of it.
My house is one giant kit room.
Today I have done a survey. My house is littered with kit. Lounge. what lounge? The lounge is home to at least one cycle helmet (resident on the piano) and I discovered, another one lurking in a dark corner on a coffee table. There are several rucksacks/running bags which hang on the back of the dining chairs or are tripping hazards in the middle of the sitting area. A variety of water bottles can be found on whatever flat surface they have been dumped or, if they have made it back to the kitchen they teeter on the edge of the shelves, waiting to dive bomb the head of the unwary person loading the dishwasher below them.
My kayak kit is resting peacefully on the antique child's arm chair, ready to be used as and when...Then there's the box of race food that has been delivered via Mr Posty and is now parked in front of the Welsh dresser. Not to mention so many pairs of running shoes.
Oh the running shoes. They are everywhere and truly, nearly all of them belong to Ross. He sheds them the way a snake sheds its skin. The used ones shed little flakes of drying mud like a bad case of dandruff under the radiator in the hall (mine) in the middle of the lounge or kitchen (Ross) In fact, at one point Ross had 3 pairs of them parked in various locations in my kitchen which quite frankly is not big enough to peel an onion in. Then he has a new pair resting all clean and lovely in the shoe box on the settee, alongside this is the emergency shelter. On the welsh dresser there's a glasses holder on strap (for kayaking) and the kayaking gloves
The dining room table is the new home for a random bike pump. Alongside that is the pile of kit that I ordered on line which is the wrong size and I need to return. I will get round to it...
Meanwhile, on the counter top, in the kitchen there is a puncture repair kit (because we might need it urgently while cooking dinner!!) . Energy foods are colonising my cupboards and you know those water bottles I mentioned earlier? I think they are breeding. Although there never seem to be enough lids for the bottoms.
There's heaps of damp used kayak kit in front of the washing machine, in the aforementioned tiny kitchen and there's lots of kit gently steaming in the bathroom waiting for the washing fairy (whom I introduced to you in an earlier post) to get exasperated and wash. Next to the back door are someone (who knows whose, water shoes) meanwhile mine are next to my bed (you never know when I might need to wade from the bedroom to anywhere in the house.)
Speaking of the bedroom, gone is the peaceful sanctuary, gone! Now my dressing table, where I use to put on make up and do my hair (no point now...too busy wearing sports kit and training! Make up just slides off along with the sweat.) So now, my dressing table is home to a pair of partially used socks (mine) which I can get another training session out of and various running waist bags including the waterproof phone holder. There are piles of kit to be reused on the dressing table stool and stashed on the top of the cupboards over the bed are various compasses and bits and pieces that we will need...probably.
It's not that we are messy or disorganised or anything. Okay it is. But, under normal circumstances, all the kit has a proper home. The trouble is that as time has gone by, and race preparation has become an all consuming activity it seems that, by mutual agreement, or mutual exhaustion, we have taken to leaving our stuff just where we dumped it in order to grab it the very next time we go out... because there is always going to be a next time and it may well be in the next few hours.
Of course, it isn't just the physical invasion that I am experiencing. No, it is how much head space it is taking up. Over the last few years, when Ross got closer to the events he was entered into, I noticed that although he was with us in body, he was definitely absent in every other way. It used to drive me absolutely potty. Ross, I apologise!! I now understand entirely, I am so there!
Here's an example of how much it is invading my head. Sunday morning I woke up and the first thing I did was to use the calculator on my phone to divide 263km by 40 hours to work out what our average speed needed to be. I think I am managing to wangle the race into nearly every conversation I have, even with complete strangers. And along with this is a growing sense of excitement and trepidation. I just want to train, think about training and think about the kit I still need to get...I mean whoever thought that I could get so excited about a rucksack!
I am not one of those women who have a thing about handbags. Shoes yes, but bags neh! Despite this I have managed to spend literally hours looking for the right, lightweight racing backpack...After intensive research and debate with Ross, this weekend I made a decision and today, I went and picked it up from the Post Office. Still got to get the wetsuit though...
Last week, before the doc said to take some time off, (That prison sentence is over tomorrow - hooray!) I could only think about how much I wanted to train. The best day of the week was the one where I spent nearly 5 hours on my bike riding trails around Swinley woods. Brilliant!
The last three days, in a different kind of training, brain training, I have been finding little encouraging sayings to motivate us during the race. (I wonder how well they will go down with my team mates after 24 hours of energy expending and no sleep?) As a result of this total race focus, things I used to do, like work, have been put on the back burner. Our grocery shop now is done more on an emergency basis than a planned, hours-long expedition that may eat into valuable training time.
The other thing I have noticed is how my attitude to food has changed. Apart from the fact I seem to be permanently hungry and while I hoover up anything in my path given half a chance, there is also the startling realisation that now I want things to have lots of calories in them so that I can use the energy...
This race is seriously messing with my head!!
And of course, nobody mentioned to me what an impact it would have on my wardrobe...not as a result of the calories (don't even go there...) Despite my passion for shoes, this summer my stunning purple sky high wedges have languished at the back of the cupboard because if I wear them, I might fall off them and twist my ankle. My shoe choice used to be dictated by my clothes choice but not anymore. I want to wear comfy shoes with the right support that will not cause my Achilles to twinge or my fasciitis to flare up....what is happening to me?
It is even impacting on my hairstyle. I have long hair and I used to love spending time doing different hairstyles. Once, Ross said to me that his favourite thing I did with my hair was a French plait. I bet he wishes he could eat his words....that is the only thing I do with it now. It keeps it out of the way and you can get a bike helmet over it and of course you can wash your hair and stick it straight back in the plait... Who would have thought that the Beast of Ballyhoura would become my hairdresser?
I definitely think I have got a case of race invaders!
Tuesday, 15 July 2014
Cabbage leaves and Arnica
You remember that I fell over when we did the 12 hour overnighter? Unfortunately, it has come back to bite me in the bum...literally.
I have a slight groin strain and wait for it....a haematoma on the inside of my left bum cheek. This is a very fancy way for the doctor to say I have a severely bruised inside buttock. Oh my word, it is excruciating.
And the doctor's advice.... take some time off training and don't put any pressure on it. ??
So that means no walking because of the downward pressure and no kayaking or cycling because of having to sit on it. That in itself is a problem, I can't sit on it because it causes pressure so how precisely am I meant to rest it?? I mean, what is a bum for if not for sitting on and having a rest?
The groin strain is relatively easy to treat. I am having sports massage regularly anyway and on the therapists advice doing gentle stretches, applying heat and taking anti-inflammatories. So I am borrowing my son's lavender-scented, pig-shaped, millet-filled heated hottie and applying it to the affected area. Simples! Although, I didn't tell him precisely where I was applying the heat bag which is now comfortingly warming my aching tendons.
My bum will benefit from the anti-inflammatories and according to the doctor, paracetomol, the panacea to all aches and pains, is also a good call. I must admit I was very disheartened when I came out of the doctor's surgery this morning. I had gone there in my cycle kit ready to go out for a nice looong 4 hour cycle this morning. I was very disappointed when she recommended that I didn't do it.
I also think she couldn't get her head around what I was actually training for. I think she thought I was a bit nuts... I can't imagine why.
Like a good little patient, I listened to the Doctor, went home, took off my kit and wore normal clothes. I was really upset about her advice and I know at this stage, every training session is vital and is one session closer to the actual race. I am getting increasingly excited about it now. So, I was really quite tearful when I phoned Ross...
Ross was very sympathetic and also, encouraging, saying we needed to think about how to deal with the situation.
"You could use arnica..."
"There's no way I am rubbing arnica cream where the sun don't shine."
"Not the cream, he said, "The tablets."
"Oh riiight!" I remembered that we used to have a bottle of the pillets. After I rang off, I gingerly went downstairs and dug around in the medicine cupboard.
"Oh bum!" (appropriate expletive I think) The bottle was empty.
Then tonight, Ross, having trawled the internet for suggestions, has told me about another alternative treatment that I should try.
Ross says I need to apply cabbage leaves to the affected area. Yes, that's right, apparently I need to put cabbage leaves in my knickers.
And we all know what cabbage smells like.
Ok, so there is a logic to this cabbage thing. Breast-feeding mothers have been known, myself included in the past, to put cabbage leaves in their bra to help with swelling and discomfort and it did work. So I am willing to give cabbage in the knickers a go.
Consequently, tomorrow morning, I am going to the shops, with a pig-shaped, lavender scented millet bag strapped to my groin and I am going to buy a cabbage and some arnica.
I shall then spend the day smelling like a very old lady.... stale fart and lavender....nice!
The things I do for this race....
I have a slight groin strain and wait for it....a haematoma on the inside of my left bum cheek. This is a very fancy way for the doctor to say I have a severely bruised inside buttock. Oh my word, it is excruciating.
And the doctor's advice.... take some time off training and don't put any pressure on it. ??
So that means no walking because of the downward pressure and no kayaking or cycling because of having to sit on it. That in itself is a problem, I can't sit on it because it causes pressure so how precisely am I meant to rest it?? I mean, what is a bum for if not for sitting on and having a rest?
The groin strain is relatively easy to treat. I am having sports massage regularly anyway and on the therapists advice doing gentle stretches, applying heat and taking anti-inflammatories. So I am borrowing my son's lavender-scented, pig-shaped, millet-filled heated hottie and applying it to the affected area. Simples! Although, I didn't tell him precisely where I was applying the heat bag which is now comfortingly warming my aching tendons.
My bum will benefit from the anti-inflammatories and according to the doctor, paracetomol, the panacea to all aches and pains, is also a good call. I must admit I was very disheartened when I came out of the doctor's surgery this morning. I had gone there in my cycle kit ready to go out for a nice looong 4 hour cycle this morning. I was very disappointed when she recommended that I didn't do it.
I also think she couldn't get her head around what I was actually training for. I think she thought I was a bit nuts... I can't imagine why.
Like a good little patient, I listened to the Doctor, went home, took off my kit and wore normal clothes. I was really upset about her advice and I know at this stage, every training session is vital and is one session closer to the actual race. I am getting increasingly excited about it now. So, I was really quite tearful when I phoned Ross...
Ross was very sympathetic and also, encouraging, saying we needed to think about how to deal with the situation.
"You could use arnica..."
"There's no way I am rubbing arnica cream where the sun don't shine."
"Not the cream, he said, "The tablets."
"Oh riiight!" I remembered that we used to have a bottle of the pillets. After I rang off, I gingerly went downstairs and dug around in the medicine cupboard.
"Oh bum!" (appropriate expletive I think) The bottle was empty.
Then tonight, Ross, having trawled the internet for suggestions, has told me about another alternative treatment that I should try.
Ross says I need to apply cabbage leaves to the affected area. Yes, that's right, apparently I need to put cabbage leaves in my knickers.
And we all know what cabbage smells like.
Ok, so there is a logic to this cabbage thing. Breast-feeding mothers have been known, myself included in the past, to put cabbage leaves in their bra to help with swelling and discomfort and it did work. So I am willing to give cabbage in the knickers a go.
Consequently, tomorrow morning, I am going to the shops, with a pig-shaped, lavender scented millet bag strapped to my groin and I am going to buy a cabbage and some arnica.
I shall then spend the day smelling like a very old lady.... stale fart and lavender....nice!
The things I do for this race....
Monday, 7 July 2014
Going nowhere fast and with purpose
I don't know my left from my right. I get them confused on a regular basis. This is a well known fact amongst my family. I was designated driver a few years ago on a travelling supper that I attended with Ross, my sister and brother in law. We had managed to find our way from home to the venue for the starter, it was from the starter to the main course venue that things went a bit awry. My sister told me that we needed to turn left at the junction.
"Okay," I said and put on my indicator, confidently pulling out into the traffic.
"Er Emma," Ross said, "We need to go left."
"I know," I said somewhat testily, "That is what I am doing."
"Why have you pulled into the right hand lane then?"
Dumb silence.
This is a long term problem. There are many pictures in my parents photo albums of us all when I was a child, my family moving one way and me purposely going in the completely opposite direction.
What, you may ask, has this got to do with training for adventure racing? Quite a lot really. There is a certain amount of irony that I have taken up a sport that requires me to be able to navigate.
And, if I am bad at it now, after many lessons, you can only imagine the woeful nature of my skill level 3 years ago.
My first difficulty arises with the compass. I have two. A little basic one and a sighting compass which I inherited from my uncle last year. I was truly thrilled with this inheritance but unfortunately, it hasn't magically endowed me with an innate sense of direction and a new level of navigational skills. Ross took me out and taught me how to sight a landmark and walk towards it. I managed that quite well and love doing it but there is a problem though...I seem to be a bit magnetic... The compass needle seems to get a bit distracted by me if I hold it too close to my body...
So now, I have solved that problem by holding it out far in front of me. I walk about with my arm held stiffly in front of me and squint at the little dial so that I can follow the needle which will then, hopefully, settle firmly into position.
But that is not all. I have a very firm grounding in the theory of topographical maps being a former geography student. I can do all sorts of things with the maps; I can plot a route, draw a cross section of the contours, measure distances and I understand exactly how to read the map features, on the map.
The problem comes when I have to use the map along with a compass in the real world and have to do this quickly while moving along... It is these circumstances that I have, um...limited success. (It's amazing I have actually done two races, requiring navigation, on my own and come back home.)
Sometimes it isn't even really the map and the compass that is the problem, sometimes it is just my innate ability to get lost....
I have lived in my current house for nearly 10 years, I have been training in the woods near my house for at least three years. I know the individual trees, I recognise bumps and puddles and rocks as old familiar land marks. But, even this hasn't protected me from my own lack of a sense of direction.
On Saturday morning, I went out for a quick hike practice session before kayaking. I was quite proud of the fact that I didn't choose an easy flat route. No, I set myself the challenge of tackling some hills in the woods near Deep Cut Barracks alongside the Basingstoke Canal. One of the sets of hills we 'affectionately' call the Three Peaks of Porridge Pot. Porridge Pot is a particularly nasty little hill, steep, sharp and gravelly. Eeeuuuw! My plan was to walk steadily up passed our local golf course, through a housing estate and then up to the hills and along to the water tower. This is a route I have done several times and I have been to the water tower hundreds of times by a different route. I am ashamed to say....I got lost. Yes, I toiled up the hills, powering my way without stopping but could I find that water tower? No, I could not. Where had it gone? It was there on Wednesday, when I approached it from the other side.
I made the decision that navigators often make when they can't find their landmark, I soldiered on regardless, going nowhere fast and with purpose. I walked on in the vain hope that the water tower would magically appear before my eyes at any moment. I walked with focus, head down, striding out literally into the unknown. I didn't recognise a single tree or feature. I was thoroughly lost. I kept on walking regardless, as optimistic as ever.
Fortunately, I eventually came to a fence line I recognised. This fence line meant gravel hills with sharp descents and steep climbs. I didn't care... I knew where I was and that I was heading in the right direction. I followed it out and found my way home. I felt like the wanderer returning from the wilderness although I wasn't greeted like it, I don't think anyone really knew I was gone or that I was lost.
At least I kept up a cracking walking pace the whole time, I averaged 5.94km per hour. That made me happy. So at least I was going nowhere fast!
But I do think it is a good thing my job on this team is to be the mandatory female and not to navigate otherwise we might end up in Wales!
"Okay," I said and put on my indicator, confidently pulling out into the traffic.
"Er Emma," Ross said, "We need to go left."
"I know," I said somewhat testily, "That is what I am doing."
"Why have you pulled into the right hand lane then?"
Dumb silence.
This is a long term problem. There are many pictures in my parents photo albums of us all when I was a child, my family moving one way and me purposely going in the completely opposite direction.
What, you may ask, has this got to do with training for adventure racing? Quite a lot really. There is a certain amount of irony that I have taken up a sport that requires me to be able to navigate.
And, if I am bad at it now, after many lessons, you can only imagine the woeful nature of my skill level 3 years ago.
My first difficulty arises with the compass. I have two. A little basic one and a sighting compass which I inherited from my uncle last year. I was truly thrilled with this inheritance but unfortunately, it hasn't magically endowed me with an innate sense of direction and a new level of navigational skills. Ross took me out and taught me how to sight a landmark and walk towards it. I managed that quite well and love doing it but there is a problem though...I seem to be a bit magnetic... The compass needle seems to get a bit distracted by me if I hold it too close to my body...
So now, I have solved that problem by holding it out far in front of me. I walk about with my arm held stiffly in front of me and squint at the little dial so that I can follow the needle which will then, hopefully, settle firmly into position.
But that is not all. I have a very firm grounding in the theory of topographical maps being a former geography student. I can do all sorts of things with the maps; I can plot a route, draw a cross section of the contours, measure distances and I understand exactly how to read the map features, on the map.
The problem comes when I have to use the map along with a compass in the real world and have to do this quickly while moving along... It is these circumstances that I have, um...limited success. (It's amazing I have actually done two races, requiring navigation, on my own and come back home.)
Sometimes it isn't even really the map and the compass that is the problem, sometimes it is just my innate ability to get lost....
I have lived in my current house for nearly 10 years, I have been training in the woods near my house for at least three years. I know the individual trees, I recognise bumps and puddles and rocks as old familiar land marks. But, even this hasn't protected me from my own lack of a sense of direction.
On Saturday morning, I went out for a quick hike practice session before kayaking. I was quite proud of the fact that I didn't choose an easy flat route. No, I set myself the challenge of tackling some hills in the woods near Deep Cut Barracks alongside the Basingstoke Canal. One of the sets of hills we 'affectionately' call the Three Peaks of Porridge Pot. Porridge Pot is a particularly nasty little hill, steep, sharp and gravelly. Eeeuuuw! My plan was to walk steadily up passed our local golf course, through a housing estate and then up to the hills and along to the water tower. This is a route I have done several times and I have been to the water tower hundreds of times by a different route. I am ashamed to say....I got lost. Yes, I toiled up the hills, powering my way without stopping but could I find that water tower? No, I could not. Where had it gone? It was there on Wednesday, when I approached it from the other side.
I made the decision that navigators often make when they can't find their landmark, I soldiered on regardless, going nowhere fast and with purpose. I walked on in the vain hope that the water tower would magically appear before my eyes at any moment. I walked with focus, head down, striding out literally into the unknown. I didn't recognise a single tree or feature. I was thoroughly lost. I kept on walking regardless, as optimistic as ever.
Fortunately, I eventually came to a fence line I recognised. This fence line meant gravel hills with sharp descents and steep climbs. I didn't care... I knew where I was and that I was heading in the right direction. I followed it out and found my way home. I felt like the wanderer returning from the wilderness although I wasn't greeted like it, I don't think anyone really knew I was gone or that I was lost.
At least I kept up a cracking walking pace the whole time, I averaged 5.94km per hour. That made me happy. So at least I was going nowhere fast!
But I do think it is a good thing my job on this team is to be the mandatory female and not to navigate otherwise we might end up in Wales!
Friday, 4 July 2014
Am I Mad?
What am I doing?!! What, on earth, am I doing?!!
The race organisers have released the race distances and stage details. This is the post from the Beast of Ballyhoura Facebook page for 2 July 2014:
Start Short Foot Orienteering 1km
Section 1.1 Kayak 20km
Section 1.2 Swim 600m
Section 1.3 Foot Orienteering 11km
Section 1.4 Kayak 13km
TA1 Kit/Bike Boxes...
Section 2.1 Mountain Bike 50km
Section 2.2 Water Based Task 3.5km
Section 2.3 Mountain Bike 38km
Section 2.4 Foot Based Task 1km-5km
Section 2.5 Mountain Bike 28km
TA2 Kit Boxes
Section 3.1 Kayak 20km
Section 3.2 Foot Orienteering 25km
TA3 Kit Boxes
Section 4.1 Mountain Bike 27km
Section 4.2 Foot Orienteering 5km
Section 4.3 Mountain Bike 20km
Finish
That is 267km in 40hours.
EEEK! I really mean it. EEEEK!
When I shared this list on my Facebook page some of my friends commented "mad" and "my jaw dropped". They think their jaw dropped. You should see mine, my mouth is like a cavern as I indulge in some silent screaming.
I mustn't panic, I mustn't panic....No, sorry, maybe it is time to PANIC!
My body hasn't caught up with my imagination. I can imagine myself crossing the finish line but look how wrecked I was after that 12 hour overnighter. What am I going to like after 40 hours? And yet, I really want to achieve this. I want to cross that line...
'Til now it has all been theoretical. But it is starting to become a reality and I feel nowhere near ready. Look at me, I still have a muffin top... and a little roll of fat over my knees... shouldn't I be all hard muscle by now? And that's another thing, why is there the little roll over the right knee bigger that the one on the left? Besides which, with all this hard work, why do I still have fat knees?
My training hasn't exactly been the smooth, serene curve of progress it should have been either. There was the crash and there have been injuries and indignities along the way that have interrupted my training programme. What on earth am I doing? I guess I will only be able to answer that at the end. I am determined to get to the end, even if it means giving in and letting Ross attach me to the dog lead (I mean tow rope) so he can pull me across the line.
The race organisers have released the race distances and stage details. This is the post from the Beast of Ballyhoura Facebook page for 2 July 2014:
Start Short Foot Orienteering 1km
Section 1.1 Kayak 20km
Section 1.2 Swim 600m
Section 1.3 Foot Orienteering 11km
Section 1.4 Kayak 13km
TA1 Kit/Bike Boxes...
Section 2.1 Mountain Bike 50km
Section 2.2 Water Based Task 3.5km
Section 2.3 Mountain Bike 38km
Section 2.4 Foot Based Task 1km-5km
Section 2.5 Mountain Bike 28km
TA2 Kit Boxes
Section 3.1 Kayak 20km
Section 3.2 Foot Orienteering 25km
TA3 Kit Boxes
Section 4.1 Mountain Bike 27km
Section 4.2 Foot Orienteering 5km
Section 4.3 Mountain Bike 20km
Finish
That is 267km in 40hours.
EEEK! I really mean it. EEEEK!
When I shared this list on my Facebook page some of my friends commented "mad" and "my jaw dropped". They think their jaw dropped. You should see mine, my mouth is like a cavern as I indulge in some silent screaming.
I mustn't panic, I mustn't panic....No, sorry, maybe it is time to PANIC!
My body hasn't caught up with my imagination. I can imagine myself crossing the finish line but look how wrecked I was after that 12 hour overnighter. What am I going to like after 40 hours? And yet, I really want to achieve this. I want to cross that line...
'Til now it has all been theoretical. But it is starting to become a reality and I feel nowhere near ready. Look at me, I still have a muffin top... and a little roll of fat over my knees... shouldn't I be all hard muscle by now? And that's another thing, why is there the little roll over the right knee bigger that the one on the left? Besides which, with all this hard work, why do I still have fat knees?
My training hasn't exactly been the smooth, serene curve of progress it should have been either. There was the crash and there have been injuries and indignities along the way that have interrupted my training programme. What on earth am I doing? I guess I will only be able to answer that at the end. I am determined to get to the end, even if it means giving in and letting Ross attach me to the dog lead (I mean tow rope) so he can pull me across the line.
That does it, I had better get on with the training then and
see if I can hone myself into an efficient machine in the next three weeks.
No, I am not mad, I am.... optimistic.
Tuesday, 1 July 2014
Pooh Mummy, you stink!
Is it natural that my younger children no longer want to kiss and hug me when I come in through the door?
Instead of being greeted with joy and hugs, I get told, "Pooh Mummy, you stink!" Admittedly, I am a tad...um...sweaty when I get home but as I am the main supplier of meals in our house you'd think they would be a little happier to see me. It the looks on their faces that hurts the most.... As I advance towards them, red faced from exercising and very damp from perspiration, their faces changes from happy smiles and twist into expressions of disgust. Their greetings are muted by an urgent desire not to inhale too deeply in my vicinity.
They look so adorable, hair all mused up with sleep and still in their jammies. " Hello, I haven't seen you yet this morning, would you like a cuddle?" I ask, all innocence.
.
"No not really Mummy," they decline my generous offer, backing away in horror, all filial devotion has deserted them in the current circumstances. "Why don't you go and have a shower?" they suggest, "then we will give you a hug."
Oh, riiight!
It is when I decide to take their advice, I suddenly understand their position. I take a tentative sniff at myself and almost faint with shock. Pooh Mummy! You really do stink. This always comes as a bit of a surprise to me, every time I return from a training session. I lived in the heat of Africa for years and NEVER produced the level stinky sweat in a whole day that I can work up in one hour in a hill sprint session or even on a hike. I don't even want to hug myself!
I want to blame my kit. I really do. These technical running tops don't half hang on to the pong. I thought they were supposed to be breathable? Why don't they breathe away the smell? I hold the offending article at arms length, between two fingers and lob it behind my bedroom door where all my dirty washing goes. There is stays, lying in its own toxic fug, until it miraculously disappears taken away to be dealt with by the washing fairy a.k.a. Ross.
(By the way, Ross has, in desperation, taken to doing the washing because housework is somehow missing from my skill set. And since training started in earnest has completely slipped off my radar)
When I eventually emerge, sweet smelling and clothed in something suitably mummy shaped, my children suddenly become all affection and filial devotion. "What's for breakfast they ask?" Apparently I am forgiven for my formerly anti-social scent but I know, it is only until the next time.... and that is what adventure racing does for you!
I fondly hug my children and remember that old adage I learnt at school, "horses sweat, men perspire and women glow." Well, I must be incandescent.
Instead of being greeted with joy and hugs, I get told, "Pooh Mummy, you stink!" Admittedly, I am a tad...um...sweaty when I get home but as I am the main supplier of meals in our house you'd think they would be a little happier to see me. It the looks on their faces that hurts the most.... As I advance towards them, red faced from exercising and very damp from perspiration, their faces changes from happy smiles and twist into expressions of disgust. Their greetings are muted by an urgent desire not to inhale too deeply in my vicinity.
They look so adorable, hair all mused up with sleep and still in their jammies. " Hello, I haven't seen you yet this morning, would you like a cuddle?" I ask, all innocence.
.
"No not really Mummy," they decline my generous offer, backing away in horror, all filial devotion has deserted them in the current circumstances. "Why don't you go and have a shower?" they suggest, "then we will give you a hug."
Oh, riiight!
It is when I decide to take their advice, I suddenly understand their position. I take a tentative sniff at myself and almost faint with shock. Pooh Mummy! You really do stink. This always comes as a bit of a surprise to me, every time I return from a training session. I lived in the heat of Africa for years and NEVER produced the level stinky sweat in a whole day that I can work up in one hour in a hill sprint session or even on a hike. I don't even want to hug myself!
I want to blame my kit. I really do. These technical running tops don't half hang on to the pong. I thought they were supposed to be breathable? Why don't they breathe away the smell? I hold the offending article at arms length, between two fingers and lob it behind my bedroom door where all my dirty washing goes. There is stays, lying in its own toxic fug, until it miraculously disappears taken away to be dealt with by the washing fairy a.k.a. Ross.
(By the way, Ross has, in desperation, taken to doing the washing because housework is somehow missing from my skill set. And since training started in earnest has completely slipped off my radar)
When I eventually emerge, sweet smelling and clothed in something suitably mummy shaped, my children suddenly become all affection and filial devotion. "What's for breakfast they ask?" Apparently I am forgiven for my formerly anti-social scent but I know, it is only until the next time.... and that is what adventure racing does for you!
I fondly hug my children and remember that old adage I learnt at school, "horses sweat, men perspire and women glow." Well, I must be incandescent.
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