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!
Thursday, 17 July 2014
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.
Monday, 30 June 2014
Escaping the neoprene prison (Sunday 29 June 2014)
Apparently I need a wetsuit.
More details have been released for the race and I need a full length wetsuit suitable for caving/coasteering activities. EEK!
So yesterday, I thought that after church, when we popped to Sainsbury to get some bread and milk, I would get a wetsuit.
Sunday Shopping List
This might seem a bit mad, buying a wetsuit in a supermarket but they sell them so, why not? If only it were that easy. First we needed to find them. I took the logical course of action and went to the swimming costume bit of the ladies clothes department and guess what?...no wetsuits. Now as I know that this shop sells them, I was a bit flummoxed. My son, with 12 year old logic, suggested I try the sports aisle which I did but to no avail. So of course, I had to go to default position of all bemused shoppers...when in doubt, ask an assistant.
The assistant told me that the ladies wetsuits are kept in the men's department, with the men's wetsuits. ??!!
I duly went along there and found them. I am a size 12. Sometimes a 10 if it's been a good week without mocchas and muffins. I grabbed the only size 12 there. (And who, by the way, thought it would be a good idea to have the size label sewn onto the outside of the ladies wetsuit. Do the manufacturers not understand the female psyche at all?) For good measure, I took the size 14 down as well.
We have a posh Sainsburys. There is a nice fitting room with an attendant who helps you. I went into the changing cubicle with such hope in my heart. I came out a broken woman.
First of all I had to strip down to my underwear. Sunday being my rest day, I actually had on some nice-ish clothes, not just sports kit or workaday wear. I had even pushed the boat out and put on a skirt. However, off it all came. I stood there in my knickers, contemplating the wetsuit. I have never had one before so I am a wetsuit novice. At first, I did not realise that the zip was covered by a Velcro strap so I had hold of the long string attached to the zip and was yanking it in vain. I eventually worked it out and had the wet suit in a black puddle at my feet, ready to step into.
I inserted my left foot into the leg hole and had to wrestle to get my foot through the opening at the bottom. I got my right foot in with the same amount difficulty. Then, I started to try to pull the suit up my legs. With a lot of hauling, I finally after about 5 minutes, got the knee pads up to my knees. I became aware of some sniggering outside the changing rooms. It was Ross and the shop assistant.
Ross, "How are you doing in there?"
Me, breathlessly, "It's a bit hard to get it up."
Ross, "There is a lot of grunting going on.
Me, "Yes, well, I am struggling to pull it up."
With a lot more grunting, I managed to get the thing half way up my body but the crotch was still by my knees. Then I had a bright idea. I would put my arms in the sleeves, stretch my arms up above my head and in that way, pull the whole thing up and it would be on in a jiffy.
I bent down and forced my arms down the sleeves. "Right you revolting giant elastic band, I have you now," I thought. Cinderella will go to the race, she will have a wetsuit on.
Oh how wrong could I be?
I was folded in half, I tried to stand up and pull the whole suit up at the same time. No go... It was like wrestling with a giant rubber monster. I wriggled and puffed and made some very unladylike sounds which caused more hilarity for Ross and the assistant. Finally I got myself upright and without even attempting to zip it up decided to get Ross's opinion.
"Ross, please can you help me," I emerged from the changing room, red face, flustered and swaddled in a full body tubi-grip. "I can't get the zip done up."
Ross pulled the zip up behind me and I felt my whole life flash before my eyes. It was like being garrotted! The rubber neck band took a strangle hold on my neck and I squawked with terror. "It's too tight. I can't breathe," I complained. "Can I cut the neck line into a V-neck," I naively asked.
"No," replied Ross, as the shop assistant tried to keep a straight face, "That is how it works."
"Well then I have to try on the 14, I feel like I am being squeezed to death. It's so hot and it's too tight , it's claustrophobic. You know I hate having tight things on." (I tend to wear my trousers a size too big so that they don't hug my waist, I loathe tight things around my middle!)
"All right try the other one on." said Ross, resignedly and unzipped it for me.
So I waddled back into the changing room and tried to remove the wetsuit. It had stuck to my skin. In the few moments that I had it on, I had begun to sweat profusely. I was encased in a neoprene prison with no visible means of escape.
I hauled on the neck line and managed to get my left arm out of the sleeve. The whole thing was making disgusting slurping sounds as it came off. I felt like my arms were being sucked down a powerful vacuum cleaner. This thing did not want to let me go. Eventually I wrangled the beast to the ground and emerged panting and victorious, from the belly of the rubber beast.
Hooray, I was free. Only thing was, I had to try on the size 14. Oh GREAT!
Well, that seemed very easy to slip into. The reason soon became clear, I looked like I was wearing a giant rubber Andy Pandy suit.
I came out of the change room again to get Ross to zip me up. My neck still felt like it was being slowly strangled but at least my body didn't feel like it was being squashed to death.
"That's not going to work," he said.
"Why not?"
"It's too big," he informed me. (It was more than a bit baggy all over)
"Oh but it isn't squeezing me. Maybe I need a size 13, not that they make size 13," I muttered. (The shop assistant's lips were quivering with supressed laughter.)
I disconsolately went back in the changing rooms to take it off. Once re-dressed I came out and handed the suits to the assistant, who had managed to regain her professional impassive expression.
"I don't think I will take either of them, thank you." I told her, trying to reclaim a modicum of dignity.
We got the bread and went home, sans wetsuit.
More details have been released for the race and I need a full length wetsuit suitable for caving/coasteering activities. EEK!
So yesterday, I thought that after church, when we popped to Sainsbury to get some bread and milk, I would get a wetsuit.
Sunday Shopping List
- Bread
- milk
- cereal
- razor blades for Ross
- shaving foam for Ross
- Wetsuit
This might seem a bit mad, buying a wetsuit in a supermarket but they sell them so, why not? If only it were that easy. First we needed to find them. I took the logical course of action and went to the swimming costume bit of the ladies clothes department and guess what?...no wetsuits. Now as I know that this shop sells them, I was a bit flummoxed. My son, with 12 year old logic, suggested I try the sports aisle which I did but to no avail. So of course, I had to go to default position of all bemused shoppers...when in doubt, ask an assistant.
The assistant told me that the ladies wetsuits are kept in the men's department, with the men's wetsuits. ??!!
I duly went along there and found them. I am a size 12. Sometimes a 10 if it's been a good week without mocchas and muffins. I grabbed the only size 12 there. (And who, by the way, thought it would be a good idea to have the size label sewn onto the outside of the ladies wetsuit. Do the manufacturers not understand the female psyche at all?) For good measure, I took the size 14 down as well.
We have a posh Sainsburys. There is a nice fitting room with an attendant who helps you. I went into the changing cubicle with such hope in my heart. I came out a broken woman.
First of all I had to strip down to my underwear. Sunday being my rest day, I actually had on some nice-ish clothes, not just sports kit or workaday wear. I had even pushed the boat out and put on a skirt. However, off it all came. I stood there in my knickers, contemplating the wetsuit. I have never had one before so I am a wetsuit novice. At first, I did not realise that the zip was covered by a Velcro strap so I had hold of the long string attached to the zip and was yanking it in vain. I eventually worked it out and had the wet suit in a black puddle at my feet, ready to step into.
I inserted my left foot into the leg hole and had to wrestle to get my foot through the opening at the bottom. I got my right foot in with the same amount difficulty. Then, I started to try to pull the suit up my legs. With a lot of hauling, I finally after about 5 minutes, got the knee pads up to my knees. I became aware of some sniggering outside the changing rooms. It was Ross and the shop assistant.
Ross, "How are you doing in there?"
Me, breathlessly, "It's a bit hard to get it up."
Ross, "There is a lot of grunting going on.
Me, "Yes, well, I am struggling to pull it up."
With a lot more grunting, I managed to get the thing half way up my body but the crotch was still by my knees. Then I had a bright idea. I would put my arms in the sleeves, stretch my arms up above my head and in that way, pull the whole thing up and it would be on in a jiffy.
I bent down and forced my arms down the sleeves. "Right you revolting giant elastic band, I have you now," I thought. Cinderella will go to the race, she will have a wetsuit on.
Oh how wrong could I be?
I was folded in half, I tried to stand up and pull the whole suit up at the same time. No go... It was like wrestling with a giant rubber monster. I wriggled and puffed and made some very unladylike sounds which caused more hilarity for Ross and the assistant. Finally I got myself upright and without even attempting to zip it up decided to get Ross's opinion.
"Ross, please can you help me," I emerged from the changing room, red face, flustered and swaddled in a full body tubi-grip. "I can't get the zip done up."
Ross pulled the zip up behind me and I felt my whole life flash before my eyes. It was like being garrotted! The rubber neck band took a strangle hold on my neck and I squawked with terror. "It's too tight. I can't breathe," I complained. "Can I cut the neck line into a V-neck," I naively asked.
"No," replied Ross, as the shop assistant tried to keep a straight face, "That is how it works."
"Well then I have to try on the 14, I feel like I am being squeezed to death. It's so hot and it's too tight , it's claustrophobic. You know I hate having tight things on." (I tend to wear my trousers a size too big so that they don't hug my waist, I loathe tight things around my middle!)
"All right try the other one on." said Ross, resignedly and unzipped it for me.
So I waddled back into the changing room and tried to remove the wetsuit. It had stuck to my skin. In the few moments that I had it on, I had begun to sweat profusely. I was encased in a neoprene prison with no visible means of escape.
I hauled on the neck line and managed to get my left arm out of the sleeve. The whole thing was making disgusting slurping sounds as it came off. I felt like my arms were being sucked down a powerful vacuum cleaner. This thing did not want to let me go. Eventually I wrangled the beast to the ground and emerged panting and victorious, from the belly of the rubber beast.
Hooray, I was free. Only thing was, I had to try on the size 14. Oh GREAT!
Well, that seemed very easy to slip into. The reason soon became clear, I looked like I was wearing a giant rubber Andy Pandy suit.
I came out of the change room again to get Ross to zip me up. My neck still felt like it was being slowly strangled but at least my body didn't feel like it was being squashed to death.
"That's not going to work," he said.
"Why not?"
"It's too big," he informed me. (It was more than a bit baggy all over)
"Oh but it isn't squeezing me. Maybe I need a size 13, not that they make size 13," I muttered. (The shop assistant's lips were quivering with supressed laughter.)
I disconsolately went back in the changing rooms to take it off. Once re-dressed I came out and handed the suits to the assistant, who had managed to regain her professional impassive expression.
"I don't think I will take either of them, thank you." I told her, trying to reclaim a modicum of dignity.
We got the bread and went home, sans wetsuit.
Friday, 27 June 2014
The Longest Day...The Longest Night 21-22 June
Training session stats:
12 hours
90.45km
Total calories burned: 4951
Last Saturday was the summer solstice. The longest day but for Team Beacon Adventure Racers it was the longest night. After some confusion about start times, mainly caused by me not reading emails properly and consequently not organising child care at the right time and Will not finishing work till late, the four team members gathered at the Basingstoke Canal Centre, which was serving as our base, at 7.15 on Saturday evening. Ross was more than a bit stressed by this delay, which had also meant we had to shovel in dinner as we drove to the base. Ooops!
Although we have had a few short hikes together and a couple of hours in kayaks as a group, this was to be our first big training session as a team. I was filled with trepidation and excitement and because I hadn't read the email closely, I wasn't really sure what to expect...but in light of what we were doing and my inexperience, perhaps that is no bad thing.
Andy was already there, looking calm as his 3 harassed, running late team mates tumbled out of our vw bus.
After wrestling with the lock on the kayak shed and trying to remember the combination, we had the usual debate about which kayaks we were going to use and then we put on our buoyancy aids and climbed into our vessels. I put lashings of insect repellent on but apparently I needn't have bothered. It turns out they really love Andy so as long as the rest of us kept fairly close to him we wouldn't be bitten by the little critters. Saying that, we had to risk suffocation by insect mob, the clouds were so thick, particularly under the bridges along the canal.
We had such a fantastic paddle..
The evening was beautiful. There were a few fishermen out on the tow path whose lines we had to avoid but that was no problem. It was great to be out there together. We paddled just under 12km up to the first lock and back. It is a very nice paddle. The summer evening air was heavy with the sweet scents of pollen and cowslips. The further along the canal you go, the higher the vegetation gets along the sides of the water. I let my imagination run wild and could almost believe we were in a mangrove swamp or an Africa river system. The reeds along the bank make great nesting places for all the water birds and the canal is teeming with little ones this time of year. I saw a great crested grebe and heron and Will spotted the floating nest of a coot or moorhen with the mum sitting in it.
I have a long standing shoulder injury so it takes a while to warm up when kayaking as feeling strong at about 5km into the paddle. It as that point that we started to explore territory I had never been to in my kayak. We paddled over an aqueduct. It is such an odd feeling, paddling over a road, I loved it. We made it to our half way point in good time and even stopped to take some photos of each other. This was our turning point and we headed back to the canal centre. The air was warm and the paddle was pleasant. I was concentrating on trying to use my core muscles to paddle as we are being taught on the racing kayak course we are doing. It is a lot harder in the bigger, heavier plastic kayaks than it is in the racing ones but I persevered and even had a little energy left to put on a burst of speed for the last 1km so that Will, who was trying desperately, couldn't catch me. Yes! There is nothing like a bit of competition in the team to push yourself onto new heights.
1 hour 49 minutes saw us back at the Centre.
We hauled our canoes out of the water and had to wash them down (as per club rules) and stow them away in the club shed. We were transitioning on to foot at this point. I urgently needed to have a wee by the time we were off the water. Without bothering to remove the life jacket, I checked the code for the toilet door lock and dashed across to the loo block. I plugged in the code and nothing... eek, really desperate now...Fortunately, I could hear voices coming from inside so I rapped on the door and they let me in. Aah! Relief. Time being of the essence in transition, I jogged back to the shed, washed my kayak and helped pop them away.
Andy has taken on the role of chivvying us through transition and wanted us to be away in 15 minutes but due to kayak storage we only managed it in 20. We all had to step out of our soaked water shoes, get trainers and socks on and haul on our back packs.
I had to strip off my shorts which were sodden and being made of cotton would have taken hours to dry and pulled on a pair of long running tights. That's the last time I use those shorts in the kayak! I sorted the food for the Phillips contingent handing out bags of trail mix, packing dark salted chocolate in my back pack and passing around Peanut butter sandwiches. Food on endurance events is such a potent issue and demands a post of its own. We all had different things that needed doing. William persuaded me not to put on my new light weight gaiters.
"What do you need those for?"
"To stop the bits of gravel and grass from getting in my shoes."
"You won't need those. Come on"
(That is the last time I heed that particular bit of advice. I really do need them. I managed to walk about 12km without them and my shoes slowly filled up. So I emptied them out and put on the gaiters but unfortunately, the damage was done and I had a tiny bit of gravel in my shoe that irritated the whole walk. Next time I am putting them on straight away.) I know Will was motivated by getting us moving.
And we were off. Simultaneously putting on my head torch, stuffing a sarmie in as I went along and slurping on a bottle of water, I padded along behind the men feeling strong and ready to tackle the hike...
I thought I would listen to my ipod for a bit on the hike but after one song a mechanical voice in my ear announced, "battery low". Ah! I should have charged it. Rookie error there. Oh well, I could talk to my team mates. William however kept his headphones over one ear and 'entertained' us with some very off-key U2 songs as we powered along.
Last time we did a long hike I used poles but since then I have managed without them. For me the jury is still out on the value of carry the extra weight for the times I would use them on the hills and anyway, I forgot them! It didn't seem to matter though as I was striding along well. Ross has taught me to increase my speed by increasing my cadence and not my stride length. This has seen my hike speed go up rapidly. We made good time on the hike and didn't need head torches for ages.
I felt good on the hiking leg and we forged our way across M.O.D. land, through woods and along side of the military ranges. We had a weird experience with the temperature. It was a lovely balmy night but every time we went down into the dips it got really freezing. There was a lot of noisy birdlife out there at night and several shouty squirrels too. I got dive bombed by a bat as well which was a bit off!
I had nasty slip on the gravel on a sharp down hill along the ranges. My hate-hate relationship with gravel that started on the first hill sprint training night continues. I just could not stop myself as I felt my left leg slide forwards and my right leg slide to the side. Earlier in the week I had felt my right thigh muscle twang horribly during a sprint session and now felt the whole thing pull as I went down with a bang. The air went a bit blue, which is very unlike me, but I was terrified I had injured my thigh. Actually though, the pull acted more as a stretch and my thigh felt fine. So I bobbed back up and carried on as if nothing had happened.
We were making good progress, our pace was high. Not as high as we have managed during shorter sessions but good.
There are times when everyone goes through a rough patch and Ross had one while we were walking. He is so strong but unfortunately, the dinner he had shovelled in on the way to the Centre was not really enough. So, he had a low point for a few km's on the walk. Then, he perked up and carried on as if nothing had happened. I was really motoring on that section and the guys even let me go out in front for a while. Leading the way and setting the pace....that was until I found a muddy puddle and wham! I fell splat into this "hippo wallow" and landed with all my weight on my left wrist. Ooh the pain! Andy said he thought I had broken it and by Monday morning so did I, ending up at a & e, having a x-ray but it is soft tissue damage. On Saturday night, however, I wasn't going to let that possibility stop me, so I jumped up and carried on, holding it up against my body until the throbbing stopped. Someone else took the lead.
As the light faded we had to put on our head torches. Your whole world shrinks to that circle of light. It is very hard to imagine anything beyond it. I often find when I am training I get very focussed and my world is all about keeping my head down and keeping going, this is even more noticeable at night when you can see no more than the circle of light directly in front of your feet. The other thing I noticed is that as the night progressed we lost volume control on our voices and got quite loud when we chatted. Ross reckons, that he doesn't and had to keep telling the rest of us to sshhhh especially when we walked through the suburbs at 1 in the morning! (Sorry, if it was your beauty sleep we disturbed.)
It wasn't just volume control but as you go on you lose all sense of time. It telescopes. At the same time your perspective shrinks to your activity and a sense of unreality overcomes you. But, I also felt more in my own skin than I had felt before. Up until that night I had to keep thinking of some iconic women endurance adventure athletes and thinking I was treading in their footsteps. For the first time, I started to feel like I was blazing a trail myself.
We spent 4 hours 19 minutes on our feet tramping over all kinds of terrain and gaining and losing altitude, dealing with rough descents in the dark and made it back into the centre at around 2 in the morning. I didn't feel tired but I did need a protein shake which I swallowed in about 3 gulps. I should also have eaten another sandwich but only managed half which had a knock on effect later on.
Andy set us a time of 15 minutes for transition. The bike stage was coming....
33 minutes later.
We had all put on long sleeved fleeces. Head torches had been attached to helmets. I looked like I had three aerials sticking out of my head from the cable ties securing my head torch. At 2 in the morning this caused some hilarity. Tonight was the first night I would ride without padded shorts. I had been suffering with all over chaffing and pinching from the pad shifting and I have a gel seat so it shouldn't make much difference.
We were off. William was put in charge of navigation. He's done a lot on foot but this was fairly new to him. His comment was, "It's harder on the bike."
We were riding out towards the A3, Beacon Hill and the Devil's Punchbowl. Places I had never been. It all started so well. I felt strong and was keeping up with the guys. Then we got to the first big hill and they powered up it. I simply ran out of steam and puff grinding to a halt. I took a quick breather and stood up on the pedals and forced my way up that hill one rotation at a time. There was more to come. We were going up Beacon Hill. I am sure this is Surrey's Everest. I felt like we climbed for ever! But, I am nothing if not determined. I didn't want to get off and push. Not on your Nellie... so when we got to a scree slope laughingly signposted as a bridle path, I was not getting off.
"Get off and push," advised Ross.
"No!" I responded stubbornly. I was a bit grumpy as I had started to feel a bit sick.
By this point Will and Andy had reached the top and were out of sight, waiting for us. I was not giving in, I needed to show these guys and myself I was tough enough and wasn't going to be a liability.
I was in the lowest gear that I can get and I kept on going until even though I was pedalling forward, I was sliding backwards.
I gave in. I got off and pushed for about 50 m. Then I got back on and pedalled all the way to the top of that slope where we all met up and I discovered everyone had had to push. I didn't feel so bad.
It was pretty much up hill all the way to the top of the devil's punch bowl. But, the view was worth it. Unfortunately, I was really flagging and was quite a way behind Will and Andy. Ross was keeping company and offered to tow me which I stubbornly refused. I need to do as much as I could without assistance. My problems were compounded by the nausea which was preventing me from eating. I have had this feeling before when expending a lot of energy. I was hungry too but was getting thoroughly sick of trail mix. If I ever see another peanut....
I was also suffering the indignities of a chaff where the sun doesn't shine. My poor upper thigh and bum cheek have a scar from a very nasty rollerblading accident I had when I was 28. The skin is really thin and tender. A long time in the saddle and it sort of blisters. I had to pull my tights down round my ankles and bend over while Ross applied a plaster. Fortunately, I wasn't having the pinching and chaffing elsewhere that I normally get so it was a good choice to abandon the padded shorts. It is also a weight issue. Do I really want to carry extra cycle specific clothing on the race?
Anyway, plastered up I got back on my bike and rode to the top of the punchbowl to see the morning sun shining over a lovely view. We had a pause for a photo and were off again down the most spectacular 4km down-hill I have ever had the joy of riding. It was so exhilarating. Pure adrenalin. Just wish I had listened to everyone's advice and kept my jumper on....the goose bumps on my arms were more like goose eggs from the cold dawn wind as we sped down that hill!
At the bottom of the hill we started another climb and it was then that I realised I was spent. I asked Ross for a tow. He gave me the tow rope which is a retractable dog lead and started to give me a bit of extra help on the hills. You don't sit back and relax when you are on tow. You still have to pedal and put some effort in but what it does is give you some much needed help and a psychological boost. It went really well when we started but then one of the cheapo zip ties we had used to secure the dog lead to Ross's bike snapped. No bother, the other one was holding and it held well for about half an hour and then ping! and I saw the other end of the retractable dog lead coming towards me a rate of knots.
"It's snapped. Have we got anymore ties, Ross?"
"No."
"Oh"
Truly I wanted to get off my bike, lie down on the side of the road and cry. Then Ross said, "We have to do this the old fashioned way." And he came alongside me and put his hand on my back and pushed me up the hill.
He pushed for many miles.
At the top of the hill, Andy said to me, "Do you want a gel?"
I thought I nodded but Will tells me that all I did was move my head fractionally. I sucked down that gel as if my life depended on it. It was delicious. He followed it up with a chocolate caramel wafer. Ross carried on pushing me and we plugged away at it again. Then suddenly there was the canal and we were only 5 km from home and my second wind kicked in.
We got on to the canal and I was flying again. Legs pumping and feeling slightly euphoric. I reckon it was because I'd had a whiff of home or it could have been I had the urgent desire to use the loo! We got back to the centre and I leapt of my bike like a scalded cat. Runners' trots they call it. Less said the better, I think we will draw a veil there.
When I got back to our vw, Andy had already headed for home and Ross and Will were loading the bikes back on the rack. I suddenly felt full of energy and I said to Ross, "I could walk now."
Then I went home, climbed into bed and went to sleep for 3 1/2 hours. I woke up, had a shower, demanded that we go out for a McDonalds and went back to sleep. That was Sunday.
I want to commend my teammates. The guys were great at encouraging me. Being the wife of one team member and mother of another could be quite problematic if we let it but it isn't. Will and I have similar personalities and can either get on like a house on fire or clash terribly. In the team that is not who we are. Everybody has a role to play and is equally important to the team. I really like 'teammate Will'. He quietly says things like, "You all right Mum?" and "You are doing well" Andy's encouraging words, "I'm impressed you don't get off and push even when you stop on a hill, you just start again." and "You are doing well" really helped keep me going. I also enjoyed the 'putting the world to rights' conversations and the random chats we had. Ross is great at supporting me, taking up the slack physically. The poor chap had to put up with me biting off his head the first time he asked me if I wanted a tow but when I really needed it...he towed me for miles. The strength these 3 guys have is inspiring and I really don't want to let them down.
I think I had better start training harder.
Measurements and maps courtesy of http://www.endomondo.com
Kayak section Hike section Bike Section
12 hours
90.45km
Total calories burned: 4951
Last Saturday was the summer solstice. The longest day but for Team Beacon Adventure Racers it was the longest night. After some confusion about start times, mainly caused by me not reading emails properly and consequently not organising child care at the right time and Will not finishing work till late, the four team members gathered at the Basingstoke Canal Centre, which was serving as our base, at 7.15 on Saturday evening. Ross was more than a bit stressed by this delay, which had also meant we had to shovel in dinner as we drove to the base. Ooops!
Although we have had a few short hikes together and a couple of hours in kayaks as a group, this was to be our first big training session as a team. I was filled with trepidation and excitement and because I hadn't read the email closely, I wasn't really sure what to expect...but in light of what we were doing and my inexperience, perhaps that is no bad thing.
Andy was already there, looking calm as his 3 harassed, running late team mates tumbled out of our vw bus.
After wrestling with the lock on the kayak shed and trying to remember the combination, we had the usual debate about which kayaks we were going to use and then we put on our buoyancy aids and climbed into our vessels. I put lashings of insect repellent on but apparently I needn't have bothered. It turns out they really love Andy so as long as the rest of us kept fairly close to him we wouldn't be bitten by the little critters. Saying that, we had to risk suffocation by insect mob, the clouds were so thick, particularly under the bridges along the canal.
We had such a fantastic paddle..
The evening was beautiful. There were a few fishermen out on the tow path whose lines we had to avoid but that was no problem. It was great to be out there together. We paddled just under 12km up to the first lock and back. It is a very nice paddle. The summer evening air was heavy with the sweet scents of pollen and cowslips. The further along the canal you go, the higher the vegetation gets along the sides of the water. I let my imagination run wild and could almost believe we were in a mangrove swamp or an Africa river system. The reeds along the bank make great nesting places for all the water birds and the canal is teeming with little ones this time of year. I saw a great crested grebe and heron and Will spotted the floating nest of a coot or moorhen with the mum sitting in it.
I have a long standing shoulder injury so it takes a while to warm up when kayaking as feeling strong at about 5km into the paddle. It as that point that we started to explore territory I had never been to in my kayak. We paddled over an aqueduct. It is such an odd feeling, paddling over a road, I loved it. We made it to our half way point in good time and even stopped to take some photos of each other. This was our turning point and we headed back to the canal centre. The air was warm and the paddle was pleasant. I was concentrating on trying to use my core muscles to paddle as we are being taught on the racing kayak course we are doing. It is a lot harder in the bigger, heavier plastic kayaks than it is in the racing ones but I persevered and even had a little energy left to put on a burst of speed for the last 1km so that Will, who was trying desperately, couldn't catch me. Yes! There is nothing like a bit of competition in the team to push yourself onto new heights.
1 hour 49 minutes saw us back at the Centre.
We hauled our canoes out of the water and had to wash them down (as per club rules) and stow them away in the club shed. We were transitioning on to foot at this point. I urgently needed to have a wee by the time we were off the water. Without bothering to remove the life jacket, I checked the code for the toilet door lock and dashed across to the loo block. I plugged in the code and nothing... eek, really desperate now...Fortunately, I could hear voices coming from inside so I rapped on the door and they let me in. Aah! Relief. Time being of the essence in transition, I jogged back to the shed, washed my kayak and helped pop them away.
Andy has taken on the role of chivvying us through transition and wanted us to be away in 15 minutes but due to kayak storage we only managed it in 20. We all had to step out of our soaked water shoes, get trainers and socks on and haul on our back packs.
I had to strip off my shorts which were sodden and being made of cotton would have taken hours to dry and pulled on a pair of long running tights. That's the last time I use those shorts in the kayak! I sorted the food for the Phillips contingent handing out bags of trail mix, packing dark salted chocolate in my back pack and passing around Peanut butter sandwiches. Food on endurance events is such a potent issue and demands a post of its own. We all had different things that needed doing. William persuaded me not to put on my new light weight gaiters.
"What do you need those for?"
"To stop the bits of gravel and grass from getting in my shoes."
"You won't need those. Come on"
(That is the last time I heed that particular bit of advice. I really do need them. I managed to walk about 12km without them and my shoes slowly filled up. So I emptied them out and put on the gaiters but unfortunately, the damage was done and I had a tiny bit of gravel in my shoe that irritated the whole walk. Next time I am putting them on straight away.) I know Will was motivated by getting us moving.
And we were off. Simultaneously putting on my head torch, stuffing a sarmie in as I went along and slurping on a bottle of water, I padded along behind the men feeling strong and ready to tackle the hike...
I thought I would listen to my ipod for a bit on the hike but after one song a mechanical voice in my ear announced, "battery low". Ah! I should have charged it. Rookie error there. Oh well, I could talk to my team mates. William however kept his headphones over one ear and 'entertained' us with some very off-key U2 songs as we powered along.
Last time we did a long hike I used poles but since then I have managed without them. For me the jury is still out on the value of carry the extra weight for the times I would use them on the hills and anyway, I forgot them! It didn't seem to matter though as I was striding along well. Ross has taught me to increase my speed by increasing my cadence and not my stride length. This has seen my hike speed go up rapidly. We made good time on the hike and didn't need head torches for ages.
I felt good on the hiking leg and we forged our way across M.O.D. land, through woods and along side of the military ranges. We had a weird experience with the temperature. It was a lovely balmy night but every time we went down into the dips it got really freezing. There was a lot of noisy birdlife out there at night and several shouty squirrels too. I got dive bombed by a bat as well which was a bit off!
I had nasty slip on the gravel on a sharp down hill along the ranges. My hate-hate relationship with gravel that started on the first hill sprint training night continues. I just could not stop myself as I felt my left leg slide forwards and my right leg slide to the side. Earlier in the week I had felt my right thigh muscle twang horribly during a sprint session and now felt the whole thing pull as I went down with a bang. The air went a bit blue, which is very unlike me, but I was terrified I had injured my thigh. Actually though, the pull acted more as a stretch and my thigh felt fine. So I bobbed back up and carried on as if nothing had happened.
We were making good progress, our pace was high. Not as high as we have managed during shorter sessions but good.
There are times when everyone goes through a rough patch and Ross had one while we were walking. He is so strong but unfortunately, the dinner he had shovelled in on the way to the Centre was not really enough. So, he had a low point for a few km's on the walk. Then, he perked up and carried on as if nothing had happened. I was really motoring on that section and the guys even let me go out in front for a while. Leading the way and setting the pace....that was until I found a muddy puddle and wham! I fell splat into this "hippo wallow" and landed with all my weight on my left wrist. Ooh the pain! Andy said he thought I had broken it and by Monday morning so did I, ending up at a & e, having a x-ray but it is soft tissue damage. On Saturday night, however, I wasn't going to let that possibility stop me, so I jumped up and carried on, holding it up against my body until the throbbing stopped. Someone else took the lead.
As the light faded we had to put on our head torches. Your whole world shrinks to that circle of light. It is very hard to imagine anything beyond it. I often find when I am training I get very focussed and my world is all about keeping my head down and keeping going, this is even more noticeable at night when you can see no more than the circle of light directly in front of your feet. The other thing I noticed is that as the night progressed we lost volume control on our voices and got quite loud when we chatted. Ross reckons, that he doesn't and had to keep telling the rest of us to sshhhh especially when we walked through the suburbs at 1 in the morning! (Sorry, if it was your beauty sleep we disturbed.)
It wasn't just volume control but as you go on you lose all sense of time. It telescopes. At the same time your perspective shrinks to your activity and a sense of unreality overcomes you. But, I also felt more in my own skin than I had felt before. Up until that night I had to keep thinking of some iconic women endurance adventure athletes and thinking I was treading in their footsteps. For the first time, I started to feel like I was blazing a trail myself.
We spent 4 hours 19 minutes on our feet tramping over all kinds of terrain and gaining and losing altitude, dealing with rough descents in the dark and made it back into the centre at around 2 in the morning. I didn't feel tired but I did need a protein shake which I swallowed in about 3 gulps. I should also have eaten another sandwich but only managed half which had a knock on effect later on.
Andy set us a time of 15 minutes for transition. The bike stage was coming....
33 minutes later.
We had all put on long sleeved fleeces. Head torches had been attached to helmets. I looked like I had three aerials sticking out of my head from the cable ties securing my head torch. At 2 in the morning this caused some hilarity. Tonight was the first night I would ride without padded shorts. I had been suffering with all over chaffing and pinching from the pad shifting and I have a gel seat so it shouldn't make much difference.
We were off. William was put in charge of navigation. He's done a lot on foot but this was fairly new to him. His comment was, "It's harder on the bike."
We were riding out towards the A3, Beacon Hill and the Devil's Punchbowl. Places I had never been. It all started so well. I felt strong and was keeping up with the guys. Then we got to the first big hill and they powered up it. I simply ran out of steam and puff grinding to a halt. I took a quick breather and stood up on the pedals and forced my way up that hill one rotation at a time. There was more to come. We were going up Beacon Hill. I am sure this is Surrey's Everest. I felt like we climbed for ever! But, I am nothing if not determined. I didn't want to get off and push. Not on your Nellie... so when we got to a scree slope laughingly signposted as a bridle path, I was not getting off.
"Get off and push," advised Ross.
"No!" I responded stubbornly. I was a bit grumpy as I had started to feel a bit sick.
By this point Will and Andy had reached the top and were out of sight, waiting for us. I was not giving in, I needed to show these guys and myself I was tough enough and wasn't going to be a liability.
I was in the lowest gear that I can get and I kept on going until even though I was pedalling forward, I was sliding backwards.
I gave in. I got off and pushed for about 50 m. Then I got back on and pedalled all the way to the top of that slope where we all met up and I discovered everyone had had to push. I didn't feel so bad.
It was pretty much up hill all the way to the top of the devil's punch bowl. But, the view was worth it. Unfortunately, I was really flagging and was quite a way behind Will and Andy. Ross was keeping company and offered to tow me which I stubbornly refused. I need to do as much as I could without assistance. My problems were compounded by the nausea which was preventing me from eating. I have had this feeling before when expending a lot of energy. I was hungry too but was getting thoroughly sick of trail mix. If I ever see another peanut....
I was also suffering the indignities of a chaff where the sun doesn't shine. My poor upper thigh and bum cheek have a scar from a very nasty rollerblading accident I had when I was 28. The skin is really thin and tender. A long time in the saddle and it sort of blisters. I had to pull my tights down round my ankles and bend over while Ross applied a plaster. Fortunately, I wasn't having the pinching and chaffing elsewhere that I normally get so it was a good choice to abandon the padded shorts. It is also a weight issue. Do I really want to carry extra cycle specific clothing on the race?
Anyway, plastered up I got back on my bike and rode to the top of the punchbowl to see the morning sun shining over a lovely view. We had a pause for a photo and were off again down the most spectacular 4km down-hill I have ever had the joy of riding. It was so exhilarating. Pure adrenalin. Just wish I had listened to everyone's advice and kept my jumper on....the goose bumps on my arms were more like goose eggs from the cold dawn wind as we sped down that hill!
At the bottom of the hill we started another climb and it was then that I realised I was spent. I asked Ross for a tow. He gave me the tow rope which is a retractable dog lead and started to give me a bit of extra help on the hills. You don't sit back and relax when you are on tow. You still have to pedal and put some effort in but what it does is give you some much needed help and a psychological boost. It went really well when we started but then one of the cheapo zip ties we had used to secure the dog lead to Ross's bike snapped. No bother, the other one was holding and it held well for about half an hour and then ping! and I saw the other end of the retractable dog lead coming towards me a rate of knots.
"It's snapped. Have we got anymore ties, Ross?"
"No."
"Oh"
Truly I wanted to get off my bike, lie down on the side of the road and cry. Then Ross said, "We have to do this the old fashioned way." And he came alongside me and put his hand on my back and pushed me up the hill.
He pushed for many miles.
At the top of the hill, Andy said to me, "Do you want a gel?"
I thought I nodded but Will tells me that all I did was move my head fractionally. I sucked down that gel as if my life depended on it. It was delicious. He followed it up with a chocolate caramel wafer. Ross carried on pushing me and we plugged away at it again. Then suddenly there was the canal and we were only 5 km from home and my second wind kicked in.
We got on to the canal and I was flying again. Legs pumping and feeling slightly euphoric. I reckon it was because I'd had a whiff of home or it could have been I had the urgent desire to use the loo! We got back to the centre and I leapt of my bike like a scalded cat. Runners' trots they call it. Less said the better, I think we will draw a veil there.
When I got back to our vw, Andy had already headed for home and Ross and Will were loading the bikes back on the rack. I suddenly felt full of energy and I said to Ross, "I could walk now."
Then I went home, climbed into bed and went to sleep for 3 1/2 hours. I woke up, had a shower, demanded that we go out for a McDonalds and went back to sleep. That was Sunday.
I want to commend my teammates. The guys were great at encouraging me. Being the wife of one team member and mother of another could be quite problematic if we let it but it isn't. Will and I have similar personalities and can either get on like a house on fire or clash terribly. In the team that is not who we are. Everybody has a role to play and is equally important to the team. I really like 'teammate Will'. He quietly says things like, "You all right Mum?" and "You are doing well" Andy's encouraging words, "I'm impressed you don't get off and push even when you stop on a hill, you just start again." and "You are doing well" really helped keep me going. I also enjoyed the 'putting the world to rights' conversations and the random chats we had. Ross is great at supporting me, taking up the slack physically. The poor chap had to put up with me biting off his head the first time he asked me if I wanted a tow but when I really needed it...he towed me for miles. The strength these 3 guys have is inspiring and I really don't want to let them down.
I think I had better start training harder.
***
Measurements and maps courtesy of http://www.endomondo.com
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