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!