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.
Monday, 16 June 2014
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 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?
Saturday, 14 June 2014
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!
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!
Monday, 9 June 2014
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.
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.
Monday, 2 June 2014
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.
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.
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!
This race is taking over my life.
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.
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