5
4
3
2
1
GO!
The Beast of Ballyhoura adventure race had begun.
Over a hundred people in the 4 member teams streamed into the woods and started climbing uphill. With all the head torches we must have looked like a bunch of mad, one-eyed monsters blundering about in the dark.
The mass of runners almost instantly thinned into a stream and shortly after that we seemed to be on our own. It became immediately apparent that I was not going to manage to climb the steep slopes with my pack on and so the 3 guys shared carrying it between them. As the race went on we put most of my food in Ross's bag and I only carried my mandatory spare clothes and drinks. This may seem selfish of me but actually I was slowing the team down when I had a heavy pack and ultimately, it took 4 days for the skin on my back to stop tingling after the race, even with the small amount I was carrying.
We were well and truly racing and what was the first task the course director had set for us? To climb a small mountain or very big hill...in the dark. And what are you told never to do in the dark?....Climb mountains. It was great! I suddenly got a bubble of excitement in my tummy as we worked our way up the hill. The claggy mud was so thick that within minutes I must have been a foot taller and my shoes felt like gravity boots, they were so heavy. I felt like I was lugging half of Ireland with every step. I was quite glad when we came to a little stream across the path and I could rinse the soles of my trainers but I wasn't quite so pleased that within an hour and a half of starting the race I managed to find a bog to sink my feet into... My trainers stayed wet for the next 38 1/2 hours. Oh yay!
I do remember saying to William, "It can't get much steeper than this," very near the foot of the hill. He looked at me with incredulity, and said "Yes it does." He wasn't kidding. But then, he was holding the map and I managed to do the whole race without looking at it! As we got close to the top, it was touch and go if it wouldn't have been better to fly up there! Anyway, as we neared the top several of the other teams were coming back down and were very encouraging and gave friendly advise or looking for some...particularly in the navigation department. I can cheerfully brag (now the race is over, that our navigation was pretty much spot on, no thanks to me mind you!) Of course I didn't necessarily listen to the advice we were given as we passed the other teams which is why I ended up knee deep in a bog! We found the second check point and started to descend back down, towards the lough and the other check points. We felt strong and positive and reached the slipway of the lough just before dawn and there I found my first 'modesty dilemma'.
I am, by nature, a bit of a prude, although with the amount I have shared on this blog, you wouldn't necessarily believe that. (Adventure racing is a bit like giving birth, it strips you of all sense of propriety!) Even as a small girl, I wouldn't dream of running about the garden in just my knickers, no matter what the level of heat, I was always covered up. So running up to the race, aware that at various times I was going to have to strip off and change attire to complete certain of the tasks, I was a little concerned. (It seems ridiculous now that I was more concerned about that than say, having to kayak, cycle and walk for miles!) I had gone as far as bringing a swimming costume to Ireland. Although when it came to packing my bag for the race, the swimming costume remained behind in the tent because in a flash of brilliance, I realised I could swim in my sports bra and knickers.
There I was, coyly trying to remove my clothing on the shores of the lough and hurridly slipping into the PFD before anyone could take notice of the mint green sports bra I was wearing. This involved me bending over double so that people couldn't see my face! I know, this is ridiculous, but I couldn't help myself. I felt acutely embarrassed. Knowing what I know now, if the swim had been later in the race, I would have stripped down to my knickers in a flash, whipped off my bra and dived into the water without a care in the world.... That is what adventure racing does to you, it removes your inhibitions!
Back to the lough shores. I didn't want soaking wet hair for hours after the swim, so I pinged on my silicon swimming hat and then I scuttled over to the slipway. There was a brisk pre-dawn breeze and I felt sure I was about to turn into an icicle. Two swans floated on the water, not far from the shore and I joked with the marshals, "Oh look swans, you can call me Swimming with Swans" (this was a not-so-subtle reference to the classic film, Dances with Wolves.) I gingerly stepped into the first lapping waves on the shore and skidded nearly all the way down the slipway. Wow... it was...well, slippery.... I stepped off the edge caught my foot on the bottom and launched myself into the lough. After the initial shock it was was wonderfully invigorating and I absolutely loved swimming the 300 m across to the place where we picked up the kayaks.
While Ross, Will and I had a delightful morning dip, Andy had the task of lugging the kit we had all been carrying about 300m around the shore. I am glad I got the wet option. He said it was quite hard work. He was carrying 4 backpacks and all our clothes and shoes that we had stripped off. He met us on the shoreline. When I got out the water I got really cold, really quickly. And, because it was still early in the race and I was still in prude mode, I worsened the situation by tramping across to a marquee in the thin, chilly wind. Will also went and changed it a marquee provided. Not all the teams were quite so restrained and I am reliably informed by Ross and Andy that they did a quick about-turn when one team stripped off right before their eyes on the causeway...
In the marquee things were not going well in the changing department. I had become so shivery my eye balls had started to vibrate and things on the edge of my vision had started to shake. It was such a weird experience. I have never been that cold that everything around me started to judder! I also seemed desperately slow in stripping of the wet clothes and putting on the dry kit from my bag. My spare dry sports bra got stuck to my slightly damp back and I couldn't get the thing to unravel. Eventually I managed and finally got dressed and then made the stupid decision to put on my one long pair of lycra tights and my one dry fleece, to get on to an open top kayak.... (3 hours of water splashing up your top, underneath your coat is not conducive to keeping your fleece dry!)
Forcing my cold feet into a pair of water shoes, I joined William as we made our way over to where Ross had mixed up a portion of the meal replacement drink I had been sooo looking forward to.....not. We gulped it down and then tottered over to Andy on unstable shivery legs to help attach the kayak seats to the sit-on-tops and lash our bags to the boats.
Will filled up the water bladders for us all. I had had the ingenious idea of putting the energy drink powder straight into the bladder but unfortunately the flow of water going into the bladder forced the powder up the tube and effectively blocked it. Lesson learnt! Put the water in the bladder and then add the powder! I only discovered this once we were afloat and consequently, Ross had to get my bottle out of my bag so that we could drink it out of there. The idea of using the bladder was that it was easier access to liquid and energy rather than trying to use bottles in the boat.
Anyway, swim over we were on to the next big challenge. The first kayak stage....
(part 4 coming soon)
Thursday, 14 August 2014
Tuesday, 12 August 2014
Get set... (Part 2)
That hour and a half whizzed by and Ross's alarm went off at 11.30pm. I leapt out of my sleeping bag with uncharacteristic alacrity. (Getting moving after sleeping is not my strong point.) I scrabbled around for my head torch and having located it, rammed it on my head, shoved my feet into my still laced running shoes and crawled out of the tent. I don't think I was fully awake but I was ready for the off.
Just then Patrick, the owner of Blackwater Castle, in whose orchard we were camped, started to play his trumpet...LOUDLY....to wake everyone up and he interchanged this with bellows of, "It's time to get up, it's time to get up." It seems that Ross's alarm wasn't necessary.
Slightly bleary eyed and still in a state of disbelief I swung my bag onto my back and staggered behind my team-mates, up to the road to catch the bus to the start. I kept saying to Will, "We are really doing this. We are really, really doing this." I think he found it quite irritating. I don't think I could quite believe that the time had come to put all the months of training and preparation to the test. (I have barely mentioned most of the training on the blog because let 's face it there is nothing duller than reading ran 10km, cycled 40 km, kayaked 13 km....and repeat.... but in between all the mishaps and disasters I have written about I have actually been slogging away with peddle, paddle and on foot)
Back to the bus. We climbed on board the bus and sat down. It was FRIGID! I sat shivering and dozing for three quarters of the way before my befuddled brain worked out how to turn off the air con vent above my seat. Ross sat next to me, folded up like a very fancy bit of origami. It is quite hard to fit his 6ft2" frame into a seat made for normal height people! He seemed to want to chat but I was having a post-nap grump and mild panic attack.
The post-nap grump is self-explanatory; the reason for the panic attack is that just before we got on the bus I was given a disclaimer to sign. This disclaimer had been mentioned in the race briefing but I hadn't registered it. Ross, Andy and Will signed it promptly and seemingly, without reading it. There was a pause as I started to read it and Ross said incredulously, "Are you reading it? Just sign it. Come on, the bus is leaving soon."
"Have you read this thing?" I asked.
"No." he responded.
"You always told me to read the small print and don't sign anything without reading it. I'm serious, have you read this thing? It says, 'I understand that I am undertaking activities that are dangerous and I might get hurt or die'!" I shriek.
Andy laughed. Ross shrugged and Will said, "Come ON Mum, just sign it."
This seemed like the final straw, after I spent the previous week assuring my Mum that what I was about to do wasn't really dangerous, I wasn't insane and I did know what I was doing. And then with 3 days to go I was suddenly overcome with worry and told the children and my sister where our wills are kept and who I wanted to take care of the children if something should happen to me (at the time I was more concerned with the ferry trip!) and now I was signing a bit of paper that said I understood I might get injured or die....
"It will be all right, it is just a standard form. Nothing is going to happen," Ross said impatiently. I don't think he could believe I was making so much fuss. "Just sign it."
I was not reassured.
I signed it.
We finally arrived at our destination just after 2 in the morning of Saturday 1 August. It was in a recreation area adjacent to the shores Lough Derg. I descended the steps of the bus and Will leant over in my ear and said, "We really are doing this. Oooooo! I am suddenly excited!" (Hmmm, interestingly I didn't feel annoyed with him for using the expression I had used to him 2 hours before and which he had found so irritating.) I simply nodded in agreement. Truth be told I was still feeling pretty sleepy and in a state of disbelief. Just how had I got myself into this situation? Also, I couldn't respond to Will because was trying to stuff a packet of breakfast biscuits down my throat to stave off any hunger pangs that might creep up on me. On top of this I was wondering why my bag felt quite so heavy.
They called the team numbers up one by one to collect the maps. We were number 4, Ross went up and got our map. This map was for the foot orienteering section which would start the race.
Ivan then announced that as it was 'chucking out time at the pubs' they would see us all across the road . He herded all 28 teams across the road and we halted in a muddy patch near the entrance to a wooded area where we would start the race.
"We will start the race at 2:20," Ivan said.
A whole lot of people started to fiddle with their watches, setting timers, chronos and checking the time. They started the count down....
5
4
3
2
1
(part 3 to follow...)
Just then Patrick, the owner of Blackwater Castle, in whose orchard we were camped, started to play his trumpet...LOUDLY....to wake everyone up and he interchanged this with bellows of, "It's time to get up, it's time to get up." It seems that Ross's alarm wasn't necessary.
Slightly bleary eyed and still in a state of disbelief I swung my bag onto my back and staggered behind my team-mates, up to the road to catch the bus to the start. I kept saying to Will, "We are really doing this. We are really, really doing this." I think he found it quite irritating. I don't think I could quite believe that the time had come to put all the months of training and preparation to the test. (I have barely mentioned most of the training on the blog because let 's face it there is nothing duller than reading ran 10km, cycled 40 km, kayaked 13 km....and repeat.... but in between all the mishaps and disasters I have written about I have actually been slogging away with peddle, paddle and on foot)
Back to the bus. We climbed on board the bus and sat down. It was FRIGID! I sat shivering and dozing for three quarters of the way before my befuddled brain worked out how to turn off the air con vent above my seat. Ross sat next to me, folded up like a very fancy bit of origami. It is quite hard to fit his 6ft2" frame into a seat made for normal height people! He seemed to want to chat but I was having a post-nap grump and mild panic attack.
The post-nap grump is self-explanatory; the reason for the panic attack is that just before we got on the bus I was given a disclaimer to sign. This disclaimer had been mentioned in the race briefing but I hadn't registered it. Ross, Andy and Will signed it promptly and seemingly, without reading it. There was a pause as I started to read it and Ross said incredulously, "Are you reading it? Just sign it. Come on, the bus is leaving soon."
"Have you read this thing?" I asked.
"No." he responded.
"You always told me to read the small print and don't sign anything without reading it. I'm serious, have you read this thing? It says, 'I understand that I am undertaking activities that are dangerous and I might get hurt or die'!" I shriek.
Andy laughed. Ross shrugged and Will said, "Come ON Mum, just sign it."
This seemed like the final straw, after I spent the previous week assuring my Mum that what I was about to do wasn't really dangerous, I wasn't insane and I did know what I was doing. And then with 3 days to go I was suddenly overcome with worry and told the children and my sister where our wills are kept and who I wanted to take care of the children if something should happen to me (at the time I was more concerned with the ferry trip!) and now I was signing a bit of paper that said I understood I might get injured or die....
"It will be all right, it is just a standard form. Nothing is going to happen," Ross said impatiently. I don't think he could believe I was making so much fuss. "Just sign it."
I was not reassured.
I signed it.
We finally arrived at our destination just after 2 in the morning of Saturday 1 August. It was in a recreation area adjacent to the shores Lough Derg. I descended the steps of the bus and Will leant over in my ear and said, "We really are doing this. Oooooo! I am suddenly excited!" (Hmmm, interestingly I didn't feel annoyed with him for using the expression I had used to him 2 hours before and which he had found so irritating.) I simply nodded in agreement. Truth be told I was still feeling pretty sleepy and in a state of disbelief. Just how had I got myself into this situation? Also, I couldn't respond to Will because was trying to stuff a packet of breakfast biscuits down my throat to stave off any hunger pangs that might creep up on me. On top of this I was wondering why my bag felt quite so heavy.
They called the team numbers up one by one to collect the maps. We were number 4, Ross went up and got our map. This map was for the foot orienteering section which would start the race.
Ivan then announced that as it was 'chucking out time at the pubs' they would see us all across the road . He herded all 28 teams across the road and we halted in a muddy patch near the entrance to a wooded area where we would start the race.
"We will start the race at 2:20," Ivan said.
A whole lot of people started to fiddle with their watches, setting timers, chronos and checking the time. They started the count down....
5
4
3
2
1
(part 3 to follow...)
On your marks.... (Part 1)
This time a week ago, I was sitting in a pub in Ireland tucking into a plate of delicious chicken and rice and basking in a post-race glow. Since then I have been away on holiday with my family and have been gradually recovering from my epic adventure.
The adventure started on Thursday 30 July when we climbed into our fully loaded vw bus and drove all the way from Surrey to Black Water Castle in Ireland. With pauses for food and the wait to get on the ferry, it took us 14 hours. The highlight of the journey was a stop for a fantastic meal that Andy treated us to, in a pub called the Horse and Jockey. We had the most fantastic t bone steaks, the size of my head!
We arrived really late at the race venue. We were met by Ivan Park, the race organiser and also by the owner of the castle. We had a lovely chat and then had to pitch our tent and try and get some sleep. Sleep is something that had eluded me for the week prior to the race due to a potent mix of excitement and terror. Fortunately I managed to get about 6 hours in.
Friday was swallowed up in race preparations. We had to sort the race food into bags to pick up whenever we had access to our race box during the race. Once we had registered for the race, we also had to make up 4 bike boxes using duct tape, bag up our wetsuits and tie our kayak seats and pfds/personal floatation devices (life jackets) up into bundles using cable ties. I have discovered there is very little that can't be done if you have cable ties, duct tape and a pocket knife. (MacGyver and Bear Grylls have nothing on us!) Although William found there is a downside to this mix since he almost performed an amputation on himself with the pocket knife just hours before the race....slicing a great chunk out of his thumb. Pressure dressings, prayer and panic ensued as he realised that he was going to be starting the race with an injury. (Not to mention Ross shouting at Will for messing around! He wasn't though, the knife stuck in the duct tape and then slipped....nasty)
We also posed for our pre-race team photo and the photographer asked me if I was William's sister which really made my day! (Nobody would be making that mistake after the race, believe me.) Mind you, this mistaking me for a 22 year old was more than made up for during the race by all the various people who greeted the four of us with "All right lads?" as we whizzed passed them on our bikes. Lad??? Lad??? I must have looked awful! Or perhaps it was disbelief that any sane woman would be putting herself through this.
Anyway back to the pre-race prep.
At just after 6 we popped up to the communal hall for the race briefing. The organisers had asked the local priest to pray for all of the teams and the race which went down particularly well with my team as we are a church team. Actually, I think it went down well with all the participants because he got a round of applause! The race briefing was both comforting and terrifying. We got a google/bird's eye view of the route which was quite comforting because it made it seem achievable. The terrifying bit came when Ivan showed us a video of some folk kayaking over grade 5 rapids and showed huge waterfalls explaining that this was the bit we would need our wetsuits for. He said all this with a twinkle in his eye though. I was sitting there worrying that I didn't have the qualifications or experience to do white water kayaking.....That was when Ivan said 'comfortingly', "Don't worry, you won't be kayaking down the river.....you will be going down the river on foot. There are some waterfalls you have to jump off." (So this was the coasteering/caving thing they had mentioned. This is also known as canyoonering or gorging. Basically you wade along, swim and clamber over rocks and rapids and then oh joy! leap off waterfalls....)
This is when panic made my eyes glazed over and my ears stopped working and I heard muffled words such as 10 foot, 12 foot and 15 foot. Then Ivan posed a question, "Is anyone scared of jumping off the top of the waterfalls?"
That was when I came to and promptly put up my hand! Scared....not scared no, more like terrified.... What's not to be scared off? Leaping off the top of a waterfall into the roiling white water below.....
I can't remember much more about the race briefing after that, nor the walk back to the tent. I just felt a increasing sense of disbelief.
We inhaled our pasta rich dinner. I cooked nearly a kilo of pasta and a kilo of mince plus veg. It all went! Ross had no idea it had all gone and kept saying it was a waste how much would be left over until I showed him the empty pan. I don't think, until that point, he realised how much we were all packing away the food! After that, we lugged the bike boxes and race box up to the collection area and then changed into our race kit. It was 10 p.m. by this time. We decided to catch a bit of shuteye before assembling for the start of the race. Fully dressed in race kit and unbelievably tired I crawled into my sleeping bag.....
(part 2 coming up soon)
The adventure started on Thursday 30 July when we climbed into our fully loaded vw bus and drove all the way from Surrey to Black Water Castle in Ireland. With pauses for food and the wait to get on the ferry, it took us 14 hours. The highlight of the journey was a stop for a fantastic meal that Andy treated us to, in a pub called the Horse and Jockey. We had the most fantastic t bone steaks, the size of my head!
We arrived really late at the race venue. We were met by Ivan Park, the race organiser and also by the owner of the castle. We had a lovely chat and then had to pitch our tent and try and get some sleep. Sleep is something that had eluded me for the week prior to the race due to a potent mix of excitement and terror. Fortunately I managed to get about 6 hours in.
Friday was swallowed up in race preparations. We had to sort the race food into bags to pick up whenever we had access to our race box during the race. Once we had registered for the race, we also had to make up 4 bike boxes using duct tape, bag up our wetsuits and tie our kayak seats and pfds/personal floatation devices (life jackets) up into bundles using cable ties. I have discovered there is very little that can't be done if you have cable ties, duct tape and a pocket knife. (MacGyver and Bear Grylls have nothing on us!) Although William found there is a downside to this mix since he almost performed an amputation on himself with the pocket knife just hours before the race....slicing a great chunk out of his thumb. Pressure dressings, prayer and panic ensued as he realised that he was going to be starting the race with an injury. (Not to mention Ross shouting at Will for messing around! He wasn't though, the knife stuck in the duct tape and then slipped....nasty)
We also posed for our pre-race team photo and the photographer asked me if I was William's sister which really made my day! (Nobody would be making that mistake after the race, believe me.) Mind you, this mistaking me for a 22 year old was more than made up for during the race by all the various people who greeted the four of us with "All right lads?" as we whizzed passed them on our bikes. Lad??? Lad??? I must have looked awful! Or perhaps it was disbelief that any sane woman would be putting herself through this.
Anyway back to the pre-race prep.
At just after 6 we popped up to the communal hall for the race briefing. The organisers had asked the local priest to pray for all of the teams and the race which went down particularly well with my team as we are a church team. Actually, I think it went down well with all the participants because he got a round of applause! The race briefing was both comforting and terrifying. We got a google/bird's eye view of the route which was quite comforting because it made it seem achievable. The terrifying bit came when Ivan showed us a video of some folk kayaking over grade 5 rapids and showed huge waterfalls explaining that this was the bit we would need our wetsuits for. He said all this with a twinkle in his eye though. I was sitting there worrying that I didn't have the qualifications or experience to do white water kayaking.....That was when Ivan said 'comfortingly', "Don't worry, you won't be kayaking down the river.....you will be going down the river on foot. There are some waterfalls you have to jump off." (So this was the coasteering/caving thing they had mentioned. This is also known as canyoonering or gorging. Basically you wade along, swim and clamber over rocks and rapids and then oh joy! leap off waterfalls....)
This is when panic made my eyes glazed over and my ears stopped working and I heard muffled words such as 10 foot, 12 foot and 15 foot. Then Ivan posed a question, "Is anyone scared of jumping off the top of the waterfalls?"
That was when I came to and promptly put up my hand! Scared....not scared no, more like terrified.... What's not to be scared off? Leaping off the top of a waterfall into the roiling white water below.....
I can't remember much more about the race briefing after that, nor the walk back to the tent. I just felt a increasing sense of disbelief.
We inhaled our pasta rich dinner. I cooked nearly a kilo of pasta and a kilo of mince plus veg. It all went! Ross had no idea it had all gone and kept saying it was a waste how much would be left over until I showed him the empty pan. I don't think, until that point, he realised how much we were all packing away the food! After that, we lugged the bike boxes and race box up to the collection area and then changed into our race kit. It was 10 p.m. by this time. We decided to catch a bit of shuteye before assembling for the start of the race. Fully dressed in race kit and unbelievably tired I crawled into my sleeping bag.....
(part 2 coming up soon)
Wednesday, 30 July 2014
Aargh! It's the final countdown
Friday 25 July 2014:
There is so much to do ,I feel like my head is going to explode!
Andy and Ross have been sending emails with lists and spread sheets attached. These make me panic. My considered response to this kind of email is to pretend that they don't exist. Any other kind of mail about the race, I'm on it, but a spread sheet or job chart......oh dear they bring me out in a cold sweat.
Today after my regular sports massage session, I came home full of good intentions to sort out the kit mountain in the lounge but I got distracted by writing the blog and then went to the movies with my son instead. It was a cute movie. It was special time with my boy. And then....
"Did you look at my email about the menu and food shop?" Ross asked me, when he got in from work, this evening.
"Er, no
I had to confess I hadn't.
Apparently this weekend is it. Everything has to be bought and packed and...and...and...EEEEK!
I am reacting by becoming inert and entering into a state of disbelief. I can't quite get my head around the magnitude of the task ahead consequently, I have had what my son would call a 'brain fart'.
Slow deep breaths Emma, slow deep breaths.
I will approach this logically and one step at a time. I must on some sub-conscious level be preparing because I have sorted out and tidied up all my sports kit.
I have officially stopped training and am now in pre-race, rest and recover mode. My groin is still niggling, so I need this time. I have been told to use ice packs to help bring down any swelling. That is fine in theory, but have you ever put an ice pack down there for a prolonged period? And whilst in theory this is a rest period, in practice we are hurtling towards leaving day at a rate of knots and there is a lot to do.
Saturday 26 July 2014:
Ross has sheaves of lists and schedules printed out. He took one of our sons to kayak training and I went through the menu and shopping list. I am starting to get a handle on it. We then dashed about getting last minute bits and pieces that we decided we needed before heading to our church building, so we could spread all our kit about and go through the tasks and roles that we will all take during the transition zones during the race. These zones are the replenishment points for our food supplies and where we would get on or off our bikes. I am on food duty and taking notes.
We also checked that we had all the mandatory kit we needed and discovered there were one or two items that we need still. I also discovered whilst sitting at on the floor next to my kit that all my trainers stink like rotten cheese....Yuck! I had to move away from them. I am really glad my nose is far from my feet because I am not looking forward to spending 40 hours in the company of those shoes!
We also discussed strategy (trying to get to all the mandatory check points) and the goal (to cross the finish line together)
Sunday 27 July 2014:
A fairly normal Sunday but in the evening we started weighing white powder into plastic bags.... This is more innocent than it sounds, we portioned out all the energy drinks and the meal replacement powder into zip lock bags so that we can get to it more easily and dilute it without measuring it out first. It does look a bit odd though....
Monday 28 July 2014:
I had my final sports massage followed by a mad dash around the shops to get last minute bits and buy all the food that we will need such as the nuts, dried fruit, lunch bits and veggies for the meals I am cooking. I also remembered to buy the dogs and cats food so that they won't go hungry while we are away...as long as Jack, our son, remembers to feed them....I am sure he will....I have filled the freezer with food for him too, so he won't starve, although at his age he is quite capable of feeding himself.
I spent the evening sorting and piling the food onto the dining room table.....It is chockablock! There is literally nowhere to sit in the lounge side of the room either. Kit, race food, etc. everywhere. The poor dog can't get to his bed and looks confused by the maze of boxes we have created. I had a busy day but hooray, my youngest came home from cub camp so I was thrilled to see him! Although when it came to a nice family meal to celebrate his return, we didn't have anywhere to sit and found ourselves perching anywhere we could.
Tuesday 29 July 2014:
Of course, I pick one of the hottest days of the year to be cooking 3 full dinners in my tiny furnace of a kitchen! I made the pasta bolognaise sauce for the night before the race, the mousaka for our dinner and the Thai chicken curry for when we get back.... I looked the same colour as a Santa suit. I was very relieved to go out for an ice cream with my youngest boy. The ice cream followed bowling, guess who won? I only scored 29, it was a complete whitewash. It was not my finest hour!! I haven't a hope of hitting a target if there is a shooting section in this race. Back home, I spent time doing more sorting and faffing about, including a text discussion with Andy about the team description for the race organisers.
Wednesday 30 July 2014:
The ehic cards are applied for, the travel insurance is organised....
I managed to buy the biltong and droewors, fill gas bottles that we need and do the mummy thing with my youngest two...took them out for lunch and got conned into buying yet more loom bands. (Any parent out there of a children aged between 6 and 14 should know about these little elastic bands!) When I came home, I spent time looking at the pile of clothes I need to insert into a bag and decided to watch my little boy make a loom bands owl for me instead.. As I put the resulting elastic band triumph on my race bag, you could say it was time spent doing race prep...
Suddenly it was 6 pm and the boys were meant to be at my sister's at about 5.... uh oh!
"Quickly boys pack....."
"Mummy, I have no boxers..."
"What do I need to take?"
Me, yelling slightly in a panic, "Get boxers out of the tumble dryer, find socks in the sock box, pack three t-shirts, don't forget your water shoes, you are going kayaking....PLEEEASE pack!!"
Finally, we got into the car with their age appropriate, mandatory equipment: a laptop, a teddy, a nerf gun and the loom bands. (I hope the clothes went too...)
Lots of hugs and kisses later ("we will track you mummy and pray for you") I am just back from dropping the boys at my sister's and picking up the tent. Ross is on the driveway doing last minute adjustments to the bikes, fitting bike computers, extra bottle holders and so on. I am writing this, Will is packing his bag and I am waiting for the beans to be cooked so we can have dinner. Jack is hiding somewhere away from the mayhem.
Then I have some decisions to make about which 3 t-shirts to take and then I will finally chuck my clothes in a bag and throw the stuff in the car. For tomorrow morning, at 6, we leave for Ireland.
I can feel my whole world shrinking into thinking about the race. Race focus which had deserted me in the face of all the last minute packing has returned. I really hope we finish. I have a bubble of excitement in my tummy.....
God bless, speak soon....I will report back as soon as I can! Think of us this weekend the race starts 2 am on Saturday morning.
So, this is it folks, everything we trained for and planned for is coming down to 40 hours in Ireleand....
Beast of Ballyhoura, here we come!
There is so much to do ,I feel like my head is going to explode!
Andy and Ross have been sending emails with lists and spread sheets attached. These make me panic. My considered response to this kind of email is to pretend that they don't exist. Any other kind of mail about the race, I'm on it, but a spread sheet or job chart......oh dear they bring me out in a cold sweat.
Today after my regular sports massage session, I came home full of good intentions to sort out the kit mountain in the lounge but I got distracted by writing the blog and then went to the movies with my son instead. It was a cute movie. It was special time with my boy. And then....
"Did you look at my email about the menu and food shop?" Ross asked me, when he got in from work, this evening.
"Er, no
I had to confess I hadn't.
Apparently this weekend is it. Everything has to be bought and packed and...and...and...EEEEK!
I am reacting by becoming inert and entering into a state of disbelief. I can't quite get my head around the magnitude of the task ahead consequently, I have had what my son would call a 'brain fart'.
Slow deep breaths Emma, slow deep breaths.
I will approach this logically and one step at a time. I must on some sub-conscious level be preparing because I have sorted out and tidied up all my sports kit.
I have officially stopped training and am now in pre-race, rest and recover mode. My groin is still niggling, so I need this time. I have been told to use ice packs to help bring down any swelling. That is fine in theory, but have you ever put an ice pack down there for a prolonged period? And whilst in theory this is a rest period, in practice we are hurtling towards leaving day at a rate of knots and there is a lot to do.
Saturday 26 July 2014:
Ross has sheaves of lists and schedules printed out. He took one of our sons to kayak training and I went through the menu and shopping list. I am starting to get a handle on it. We then dashed about getting last minute bits and pieces that we decided we needed before heading to our church building, so we could spread all our kit about and go through the tasks and roles that we will all take during the transition zones during the race. These zones are the replenishment points for our food supplies and where we would get on or off our bikes. I am on food duty and taking notes.
We also checked that we had all the mandatory kit we needed and discovered there were one or two items that we need still. I also discovered whilst sitting at on the floor next to my kit that all my trainers stink like rotten cheese....Yuck! I had to move away from them. I am really glad my nose is far from my feet because I am not looking forward to spending 40 hours in the company of those shoes!
We also discussed strategy (trying to get to all the mandatory check points) and the goal (to cross the finish line together)
Sunday 27 July 2014:
A fairly normal Sunday but in the evening we started weighing white powder into plastic bags.... This is more innocent than it sounds, we portioned out all the energy drinks and the meal replacement powder into zip lock bags so that we can get to it more easily and dilute it without measuring it out first. It does look a bit odd though....
Monday 28 July 2014:
I had my final sports massage followed by a mad dash around the shops to get last minute bits and buy all the food that we will need such as the nuts, dried fruit, lunch bits and veggies for the meals I am cooking. I also remembered to buy the dogs and cats food so that they won't go hungry while we are away...as long as Jack, our son, remembers to feed them....I am sure he will....I have filled the freezer with food for him too, so he won't starve, although at his age he is quite capable of feeding himself.
I spent the evening sorting and piling the food onto the dining room table.....It is chockablock! There is literally nowhere to sit in the lounge side of the room either. Kit, race food, etc. everywhere. The poor dog can't get to his bed and looks confused by the maze of boxes we have created. I had a busy day but hooray, my youngest came home from cub camp so I was thrilled to see him! Although when it came to a nice family meal to celebrate his return, we didn't have anywhere to sit and found ourselves perching anywhere we could.
Tuesday 29 July 2014:
Of course, I pick one of the hottest days of the year to be cooking 3 full dinners in my tiny furnace of a kitchen! I made the pasta bolognaise sauce for the night before the race, the mousaka for our dinner and the Thai chicken curry for when we get back.... I looked the same colour as a Santa suit. I was very relieved to go out for an ice cream with my youngest boy. The ice cream followed bowling, guess who won? I only scored 29, it was a complete whitewash. It was not my finest hour!! I haven't a hope of hitting a target if there is a shooting section in this race. Back home, I spent time doing more sorting and faffing about, including a text discussion with Andy about the team description for the race organisers.
Wednesday 30 July 2014:
The ehic cards are applied for, the travel insurance is organised....
I managed to buy the biltong and droewors, fill gas bottles that we need and do the mummy thing with my youngest two...took them out for lunch and got conned into buying yet more loom bands. (Any parent out there of a children aged between 6 and 14 should know about these little elastic bands!) When I came home, I spent time looking at the pile of clothes I need to insert into a bag and decided to watch my little boy make a loom bands owl for me instead.. As I put the resulting elastic band triumph on my race bag, you could say it was time spent doing race prep...
Suddenly it was 6 pm and the boys were meant to be at my sister's at about 5.... uh oh!
"Quickly boys pack....."
"Mummy, I have no boxers..."
"What do I need to take?"
Me, yelling slightly in a panic, "Get boxers out of the tumble dryer, find socks in the sock box, pack three t-shirts, don't forget your water shoes, you are going kayaking....PLEEEASE pack!!"
Finally, we got into the car with their age appropriate, mandatory equipment: a laptop, a teddy, a nerf gun and the loom bands. (I hope the clothes went too...)
Lots of hugs and kisses later ("we will track you mummy and pray for you") I am just back from dropping the boys at my sister's and picking up the tent. Ross is on the driveway doing last minute adjustments to the bikes, fitting bike computers, extra bottle holders and so on. I am writing this, Will is packing his bag and I am waiting for the beans to be cooked so we can have dinner. Jack is hiding somewhere away from the mayhem.
Then I have some decisions to make about which 3 t-shirts to take and then I will finally chuck my clothes in a bag and throw the stuff in the car. For tomorrow morning, at 6, we leave for Ireland.
I can feel my whole world shrinking into thinking about the race. Race focus which had deserted me in the face of all the last minute packing has returned. I really hope we finish. I have a bubble of excitement in my tummy.....
God bless, speak soon....I will report back as soon as I can! Think of us this weekend the race starts 2 am on Saturday morning.
So, this is it folks, everything we trained for and planned for is coming down to 40 hours in Ireleand....
Beast of Ballyhoura, here we come!
Friday, 25 July 2014
Food Glorious food
I make no bones about it, I am a girl who loves her food. Fancy or fast, healthy or dripping in saturated fats, I adore it. I love to cook it, bake it, eat it and I love to eat out.... Although when I say eat out, I am not sure I mean eat out of a zip-lock bag, in the middle of nowhere, on the side of a hill while hurtling down it at a hundred miles an hour, on a mountain bike.
So I think the time has come at long last to let you into my inner most thoughts on race food. The first thing that happens is that food becomes fuel. It is important for it's energy value and taste is secondary.
Adventure racers are a pretty friendly bunch in my (limited) experience. They share ideas and tell horror stories (they are worse than women with their birth stories) about various races and exploits they have got up to. Yep, a pretty friendly bunch except when it comes to...food, specifically race food, that is a prickly subject.
Race nutrition has been at the root of many heated debates among the various groups of people I have trained with. Some, doing shorter/ stage races don't use anything at all and there are those who recommend constant grazing from start to finish, no matter the length of the event. There have been discussions on the use of energy drinks (ranging from they are rubbish, to they are vital) and gels (it would seem you either love them or hate them) and the meal replacement drinks....well!
I am no expert on nutrition in the capital N sense of the word. I know a bit about it because I want to stay healthy and feed my family well but I am not a professional. What I have learnt, I have gleaned along the way and also because I am quite interested in food....particularly yummy food!
In our team we all have definite ideas on what we do or do not like to use for nutrition and energy while training and eating. I think that the biggest factors in decided whether we believe something works are taste and texture, not maximum calories nor whether it is slow or quick release energy.
We will be using energy drinks but even then there are different opinions and brand loyalty! I am not fussed about the brand as long as they work and I think they are fantastic and they seem to work for me. They have the added advantage that they are something different from water and variety is good. Also, I have experienced nausea when doing long term extreme exercise and that is when they really help. I am also a convert to the zero cal electrolytes although I found it quite weird to drink a salty fruit flavoured drink but they really have helped me with cramping and replacing salts. So far, so good. Not much contention there...
Now let me type one little word: gels! You know what they say about don't mention money, politics and religion....well among my racing acquaintances there are some who would add energy gels to that list. Ross hates them. It's a texture thing and I get that, I really do. I think they are a necessary evil. I hate jelly but I can cope with racing gels. They are generally palatable, easily digestible (really important when you experience nausea.) and they are a good source of short term energy. I know it is short term but they have their place, although I definitely wouldn't use them exclusively. Too many and you get furry teeth and the inside of your mouth feels like it's claggy and coated with glue. But, 1-2 an hour mixed in with other stuff is great. Sadly, they do have a serious draw back: gel hands! Picture this, it was my first ever 2 day stage race. It was a beautiful warm October day, I was in an all woman team and I was using gels as part of the nutrition regime for the race. We had cycled to the top of the South Downs, the view was spectacular. I decided to have a little nibble so I reached round into the side pocket of my rucksack to grab out a black current flavoured gel. I held it in one hand and ripped off the top with the other. Gel explosion!! It literally poured out everywhere, I tried to get it into my mouth and it poured down my chin. My hands were covered, my face was covered. I tried to lick it off my hands. I needed the precious energy it contained...but although the gel is gone, the stickiness remains. My hands felt like they had super glue on them. I tried to pour a bit of water from my hydration pack on to my hands. That didn't work...flippin' bite valve... means I can't get the water out without using my teeth on the opening. So I was having to suck water out of the tube and spit it on my hands... I rubbed away at the gel but to no avail....now I had spit and gel on my hands. I gave up and tried to wipe them on the back of my cycle shorts which I had forgotten are slightly muddy. Now I have a heady mix of mud, spit and gel on my hands. I gave up. I decided it was time to carry on and so I reluctantly grabbed on to my handlebars. I was stuck to them!! My hands have been glued to them by the gel.
Grrreat!
Adventure Racing, I do it for fun you know!
And, gels are super....I really like them.
As I mentioned, Ross, hates them. He seems to favour trail mix. I have to say, after 12 hours on trail mix during our overnight training session I had gone off it a bit. It was the homogonized flavour I found distressing after a while. I make our own trail mix. We favour salted cashews, salted peanuts, little bits of ginger and raisins and the odd jelly baby. I package it up into small zip lock bags and we are set. This is great for short training sessions or very short (sprint) races. The other problem often experienced, is how after several hours of salted mixed nuts and raisins, the inside of your mouth starts to feel like it has been sandpapered.... It's horrible.
So there you are sandpapered, gluey mouth....sounds like the makings of fabulous gastronomy, doesn't it?
You thought it couldn't get worse?
You thought wrong...
The great horror is the meal replacement drink. I mean who ever heard of replacing the delights of chewing with sipping and gulping? And deary me, what a contentious issue it is. The meal replacement drink... there are some very strong opinions about that. Andy comes down firmly in the no camp, whilst Ross is a yes-campaigner. I am on the fence and William being a teenager, will probably eat the packaging it came in, if he was hungry enough.
So, today I reluctantly received a delivery of 2 tubs complete meal replacement. And, for the sake of not being sued by its makers, I will not be revealing its name. I will use it because it works but it has to be said, I am not sure I like it. You see, there is no gastronomic satisfaction in drinking your dinner. You take a certain amount of this powder and mix it with the (correct) amount of water and tadaa! A Gourmet Treat! It fills you up, it certainly provides you with the energy, vitamins and minerals that you need during intense activity but it doesn't leave you feeling fulfilled like dinner should. You see, you can't get emotionally involved with a sort of milk-less milkshake the way you can with a muffin. (I wish they made energy muffins but sadly there is still a huge gap in the market.
At least, the night before the race we have pasta bolognaise to look forward to. This I will prepare in advance in Surrey and then we will drive all the way to Ireland with our dinner, in a hopefully water-tight plastic box (there's a recipe for disaster!!) . That's ok. I've no problems with that. But then for the 40 hours after that this is what our meals will look like,
liquid dinner/breakfast
trail mix
cereal bars
salami (yuck!!sorry but I do prefer ham)
mini cheeses
pita bread
boiled eggs
boil in the bag food (This I have never experienced, I am a little afraid...)
jelly babies
energy gels
energy drinks
electrolyte drinks
pronutro (similar to redibrek)
more energy gels
more energy drinks
more liquid meals
dark chocolate
biltong (horrible salty shoe leather: sorry to my South African friends and relatives)
droe wors (dried sausage, marginally better than biltong)
(This list isn't in order and it isn't complete but truly when I looked at the menu that Ross has typed up, I loss the will and the true horror of going without a proper meal and replacing it with a stream of energy producing nutrition, dawned on me.)
The problem is the overwhelming sweetness of energy foods. There is a brief nod to flavour but really these foods are fuel. High octane unleaded fuel, but fuel non-the-less. The gels for example come in fruit flavours as do the drinks and the cereal bars are maple flavoured. I have a sweet tooth but after a while, I just want a steak! A big bloody one with chips....That is why we have thrown in things like boiled eggs and cheese (I know there isn't much comparison to steak but at least they aren't sweet and high a high protein and good nutritional value)
With endurance sports, I have been taught to eat every 20 to 30 minutes, a handful of nuts, a cereal bar or a gel helps keep your energy levels up at good levels instead of using it all up and crashing a burning and starting from scratch again. But think of me when you sit down to your dinners while I am out there slogging it out on the hills and slopes of Ireland. Think of me....
I really must remember, I am doing this for fun....I really am?!
So I think the time has come at long last to let you into my inner most thoughts on race food. The first thing that happens is that food becomes fuel. It is important for it's energy value and taste is secondary.
Adventure racers are a pretty friendly bunch in my (limited) experience. They share ideas and tell horror stories (they are worse than women with their birth stories) about various races and exploits they have got up to. Yep, a pretty friendly bunch except when it comes to...food, specifically race food, that is a prickly subject.
Race nutrition has been at the root of many heated debates among the various groups of people I have trained with. Some, doing shorter/ stage races don't use anything at all and there are those who recommend constant grazing from start to finish, no matter the length of the event. There have been discussions on the use of energy drinks (ranging from they are rubbish, to they are vital) and gels (it would seem you either love them or hate them) and the meal replacement drinks....well!
I am no expert on nutrition in the capital N sense of the word. I know a bit about it because I want to stay healthy and feed my family well but I am not a professional. What I have learnt, I have gleaned along the way and also because I am quite interested in food....particularly yummy food!
In our team we all have definite ideas on what we do or do not like to use for nutrition and energy while training and eating. I think that the biggest factors in decided whether we believe something works are taste and texture, not maximum calories nor whether it is slow or quick release energy.
We will be using energy drinks but even then there are different opinions and brand loyalty! I am not fussed about the brand as long as they work and I think they are fantastic and they seem to work for me. They have the added advantage that they are something different from water and variety is good. Also, I have experienced nausea when doing long term extreme exercise and that is when they really help. I am also a convert to the zero cal electrolytes although I found it quite weird to drink a salty fruit flavoured drink but they really have helped me with cramping and replacing salts. So far, so good. Not much contention there...
Now let me type one little word: gels! You know what they say about don't mention money, politics and religion....well among my racing acquaintances there are some who would add energy gels to that list. Ross hates them. It's a texture thing and I get that, I really do. I think they are a necessary evil. I hate jelly but I can cope with racing gels. They are generally palatable, easily digestible (really important when you experience nausea.) and they are a good source of short term energy. I know it is short term but they have their place, although I definitely wouldn't use them exclusively. Too many and you get furry teeth and the inside of your mouth feels like it's claggy and coated with glue. But, 1-2 an hour mixed in with other stuff is great. Sadly, they do have a serious draw back: gel hands! Picture this, it was my first ever 2 day stage race. It was a beautiful warm October day, I was in an all woman team and I was using gels as part of the nutrition regime for the race. We had cycled to the top of the South Downs, the view was spectacular. I decided to have a little nibble so I reached round into the side pocket of my rucksack to grab out a black current flavoured gel. I held it in one hand and ripped off the top with the other. Gel explosion!! It literally poured out everywhere, I tried to get it into my mouth and it poured down my chin. My hands were covered, my face was covered. I tried to lick it off my hands. I needed the precious energy it contained...but although the gel is gone, the stickiness remains. My hands felt like they had super glue on them. I tried to pour a bit of water from my hydration pack on to my hands. That didn't work...flippin' bite valve... means I can't get the water out without using my teeth on the opening. So I was having to suck water out of the tube and spit it on my hands... I rubbed away at the gel but to no avail....now I had spit and gel on my hands. I gave up and tried to wipe them on the back of my cycle shorts which I had forgotten are slightly muddy. Now I have a heady mix of mud, spit and gel on my hands. I gave up. I decided it was time to carry on and so I reluctantly grabbed on to my handlebars. I was stuck to them!! My hands have been glued to them by the gel.
Grrreat!
Adventure Racing, I do it for fun you know!
And, gels are super....I really like them.
As I mentioned, Ross, hates them. He seems to favour trail mix. I have to say, after 12 hours on trail mix during our overnight training session I had gone off it a bit. It was the homogonized flavour I found distressing after a while. I make our own trail mix. We favour salted cashews, salted peanuts, little bits of ginger and raisins and the odd jelly baby. I package it up into small zip lock bags and we are set. This is great for short training sessions or very short (sprint) races. The other problem often experienced, is how after several hours of salted mixed nuts and raisins, the inside of your mouth starts to feel like it has been sandpapered.... It's horrible.
So there you are sandpapered, gluey mouth....sounds like the makings of fabulous gastronomy, doesn't it?
You thought it couldn't get worse?
You thought wrong...
The great horror is the meal replacement drink. I mean who ever heard of replacing the delights of chewing with sipping and gulping? And deary me, what a contentious issue it is. The meal replacement drink... there are some very strong opinions about that. Andy comes down firmly in the no camp, whilst Ross is a yes-campaigner. I am on the fence and William being a teenager, will probably eat the packaging it came in, if he was hungry enough.
So, today I reluctantly received a delivery of 2 tubs complete meal replacement. And, for the sake of not being sued by its makers, I will not be revealing its name. I will use it because it works but it has to be said, I am not sure I like it. You see, there is no gastronomic satisfaction in drinking your dinner. You take a certain amount of this powder and mix it with the (correct) amount of water and tadaa! A Gourmet Treat! It fills you up, it certainly provides you with the energy, vitamins and minerals that you need during intense activity but it doesn't leave you feeling fulfilled like dinner should. You see, you can't get emotionally involved with a sort of milk-less milkshake the way you can with a muffin. (I wish they made energy muffins but sadly there is still a huge gap in the market.
At least, the night before the race we have pasta bolognaise to look forward to. This I will prepare in advance in Surrey and then we will drive all the way to Ireland with our dinner, in a hopefully water-tight plastic box (there's a recipe for disaster!!) . That's ok. I've no problems with that. But then for the 40 hours after that this is what our meals will look like,
liquid dinner/breakfast
trail mix
cereal bars
salami (yuck!!sorry but I do prefer ham)
mini cheeses
pita bread
boiled eggs
boil in the bag food (This I have never experienced, I am a little afraid...)
jelly babies
energy gels
energy drinks
electrolyte drinks
pronutro (similar to redibrek)
more energy gels
more energy drinks
more liquid meals
dark chocolate
biltong (horrible salty shoe leather: sorry to my South African friends and relatives)
droe wors (dried sausage, marginally better than biltong)
(This list isn't in order and it isn't complete but truly when I looked at the menu that Ross has typed up, I loss the will and the true horror of going without a proper meal and replacing it with a stream of energy producing nutrition, dawned on me.)
The problem is the overwhelming sweetness of energy foods. There is a brief nod to flavour but really these foods are fuel. High octane unleaded fuel, but fuel non-the-less. The gels for example come in fruit flavours as do the drinks and the cereal bars are maple flavoured. I have a sweet tooth but after a while, I just want a steak! A big bloody one with chips....That is why we have thrown in things like boiled eggs and cheese (I know there isn't much comparison to steak but at least they aren't sweet and high a high protein and good nutritional value)
With endurance sports, I have been taught to eat every 20 to 30 minutes, a handful of nuts, a cereal bar or a gel helps keep your energy levels up at good levels instead of using it all up and crashing a burning and starting from scratch again. But think of me when you sit down to your dinners while I am out there slogging it out on the hills and slopes of Ireland. Think of me....
I really must remember, I am doing this for fun....I really am?!
Thursday, 17 July 2014
Race Invaders
Oh. My. Goodness. This race really is taking over my life and my home
It's invaded every aspect of it.
My house is one giant kit room.
Today I have done a survey. My house is littered with kit. Lounge. what lounge? The lounge is home to at least one cycle helmet (resident on the piano) and I discovered, another one lurking in a dark corner on a coffee table. There are several rucksacks/running bags which hang on the back of the dining chairs or are tripping hazards in the middle of the sitting area. A variety of water bottles can be found on whatever flat surface they have been dumped or, if they have made it back to the kitchen they teeter on the edge of the shelves, waiting to dive bomb the head of the unwary person loading the dishwasher below them.
My kayak kit is resting peacefully on the antique child's arm chair, ready to be used as and when...Then there's the box of race food that has been delivered via Mr Posty and is now parked in front of the Welsh dresser. Not to mention so many pairs of running shoes.
Oh the running shoes. They are everywhere and truly, nearly all of them belong to Ross. He sheds them the way a snake sheds its skin. The used ones shed little flakes of drying mud like a bad case of dandruff under the radiator in the hall (mine) in the middle of the lounge or kitchen (Ross) In fact, at one point Ross had 3 pairs of them parked in various locations in my kitchen which quite frankly is not big enough to peel an onion in. Then he has a new pair resting all clean and lovely in the shoe box on the settee, alongside this is the emergency shelter. On the welsh dresser there's a glasses holder on strap (for kayaking) and the kayaking gloves
The dining room table is the new home for a random bike pump. Alongside that is the pile of kit that I ordered on line which is the wrong size and I need to return. I will get round to it...
Meanwhile, on the counter top, in the kitchen there is a puncture repair kit (because we might need it urgently while cooking dinner!!) . Energy foods are colonising my cupboards and you know those water bottles I mentioned earlier? I think they are breeding. Although there never seem to be enough lids for the bottoms.
There's heaps of damp used kayak kit in front of the washing machine, in the aforementioned tiny kitchen and there's lots of kit gently steaming in the bathroom waiting for the washing fairy (whom I introduced to you in an earlier post) to get exasperated and wash. Next to the back door are someone (who knows whose, water shoes) meanwhile mine are next to my bed (you never know when I might need to wade from the bedroom to anywhere in the house.)
Speaking of the bedroom, gone is the peaceful sanctuary, gone! Now my dressing table, where I use to put on make up and do my hair (no point now...too busy wearing sports kit and training! Make up just slides off along with the sweat.) So now, my dressing table is home to a pair of partially used socks (mine) which I can get another training session out of and various running waist bags including the waterproof phone holder. There are piles of kit to be reused on the dressing table stool and stashed on the top of the cupboards over the bed are various compasses and bits and pieces that we will need...probably.
It's not that we are messy or disorganised or anything. Okay it is. But, under normal circumstances, all the kit has a proper home. The trouble is that as time has gone by, and race preparation has become an all consuming activity it seems that, by mutual agreement, or mutual exhaustion, we have taken to leaving our stuff just where we dumped it in order to grab it the very next time we go out... because there is always going to be a next time and it may well be in the next few hours.
Of course, it isn't just the physical invasion that I am experiencing. No, it is how much head space it is taking up. Over the last few years, when Ross got closer to the events he was entered into, I noticed that although he was with us in body, he was definitely absent in every other way. It used to drive me absolutely potty. Ross, I apologise!! I now understand entirely, I am so there!
Here's an example of how much it is invading my head. Sunday morning I woke up and the first thing I did was to use the calculator on my phone to divide 263km by 40 hours to work out what our average speed needed to be. I think I am managing to wangle the race into nearly every conversation I have, even with complete strangers. And along with this is a growing sense of excitement and trepidation. I just want to train, think about training and think about the kit I still need to get...I mean whoever thought that I could get so excited about a rucksack!
I am not one of those women who have a thing about handbags. Shoes yes, but bags neh! Despite this I have managed to spend literally hours looking for the right, lightweight racing backpack...After intensive research and debate with Ross, this weekend I made a decision and today, I went and picked it up from the Post Office. Still got to get the wetsuit though...
Last week, before the doc said to take some time off, (That prison sentence is over tomorrow - hooray!) I could only think about how much I wanted to train. The best day of the week was the one where I spent nearly 5 hours on my bike riding trails around Swinley woods. Brilliant!
The last three days, in a different kind of training, brain training, I have been finding little encouraging sayings to motivate us during the race. (I wonder how well they will go down with my team mates after 24 hours of energy expending and no sleep?) As a result of this total race focus, things I used to do, like work, have been put on the back burner. Our grocery shop now is done more on an emergency basis than a planned, hours-long expedition that may eat into valuable training time.
The other thing I have noticed is how my attitude to food has changed. Apart from the fact I seem to be permanently hungry and while I hoover up anything in my path given half a chance, there is also the startling realisation that now I want things to have lots of calories in them so that I can use the energy...
This race is seriously messing with my head!!
And of course, nobody mentioned to me what an impact it would have on my wardrobe...not as a result of the calories (don't even go there...) Despite my passion for shoes, this summer my stunning purple sky high wedges have languished at the back of the cupboard because if I wear them, I might fall off them and twist my ankle. My shoe choice used to be dictated by my clothes choice but not anymore. I want to wear comfy shoes with the right support that will not cause my Achilles to twinge or my fasciitis to flare up....what is happening to me?
It is even impacting on my hairstyle. I have long hair and I used to love spending time doing different hairstyles. Once, Ross said to me that his favourite thing I did with my hair was a French plait. I bet he wishes he could eat his words....that is the only thing I do with it now. It keeps it out of the way and you can get a bike helmet over it and of course you can wash your hair and stick it straight back in the plait... Who would have thought that the Beast of Ballyhoura would become my hairdresser?
I definitely think I have got a case of race invaders!
It's invaded every aspect of it.
My house is one giant kit room.
Today I have done a survey. My house is littered with kit. Lounge. what lounge? The lounge is home to at least one cycle helmet (resident on the piano) and I discovered, another one lurking in a dark corner on a coffee table. There are several rucksacks/running bags which hang on the back of the dining chairs or are tripping hazards in the middle of the sitting area. A variety of water bottles can be found on whatever flat surface they have been dumped or, if they have made it back to the kitchen they teeter on the edge of the shelves, waiting to dive bomb the head of the unwary person loading the dishwasher below them.
My kayak kit is resting peacefully on the antique child's arm chair, ready to be used as and when...Then there's the box of race food that has been delivered via Mr Posty and is now parked in front of the Welsh dresser. Not to mention so many pairs of running shoes.
Oh the running shoes. They are everywhere and truly, nearly all of them belong to Ross. He sheds them the way a snake sheds its skin. The used ones shed little flakes of drying mud like a bad case of dandruff under the radiator in the hall (mine) in the middle of the lounge or kitchen (Ross) In fact, at one point Ross had 3 pairs of them parked in various locations in my kitchen which quite frankly is not big enough to peel an onion in. Then he has a new pair resting all clean and lovely in the shoe box on the settee, alongside this is the emergency shelter. On the welsh dresser there's a glasses holder on strap (for kayaking) and the kayaking gloves
The dining room table is the new home for a random bike pump. Alongside that is the pile of kit that I ordered on line which is the wrong size and I need to return. I will get round to it...
Meanwhile, on the counter top, in the kitchen there is a puncture repair kit (because we might need it urgently while cooking dinner!!) . Energy foods are colonising my cupboards and you know those water bottles I mentioned earlier? I think they are breeding. Although there never seem to be enough lids for the bottoms.
There's heaps of damp used kayak kit in front of the washing machine, in the aforementioned tiny kitchen and there's lots of kit gently steaming in the bathroom waiting for the washing fairy (whom I introduced to you in an earlier post) to get exasperated and wash. Next to the back door are someone (who knows whose, water shoes) meanwhile mine are next to my bed (you never know when I might need to wade from the bedroom to anywhere in the house.)
Speaking of the bedroom, gone is the peaceful sanctuary, gone! Now my dressing table, where I use to put on make up and do my hair (no point now...too busy wearing sports kit and training! Make up just slides off along with the sweat.) So now, my dressing table is home to a pair of partially used socks (mine) which I can get another training session out of and various running waist bags including the waterproof phone holder. There are piles of kit to be reused on the dressing table stool and stashed on the top of the cupboards over the bed are various compasses and bits and pieces that we will need...probably.
It's not that we are messy or disorganised or anything. Okay it is. But, under normal circumstances, all the kit has a proper home. The trouble is that as time has gone by, and race preparation has become an all consuming activity it seems that, by mutual agreement, or mutual exhaustion, we have taken to leaving our stuff just where we dumped it in order to grab it the very next time we go out... because there is always going to be a next time and it may well be in the next few hours.
Of course, it isn't just the physical invasion that I am experiencing. No, it is how much head space it is taking up. Over the last few years, when Ross got closer to the events he was entered into, I noticed that although he was with us in body, he was definitely absent in every other way. It used to drive me absolutely potty. Ross, I apologise!! I now understand entirely, I am so there!
Here's an example of how much it is invading my head. Sunday morning I woke up and the first thing I did was to use the calculator on my phone to divide 263km by 40 hours to work out what our average speed needed to be. I think I am managing to wangle the race into nearly every conversation I have, even with complete strangers. And along with this is a growing sense of excitement and trepidation. I just want to train, think about training and think about the kit I still need to get...I mean whoever thought that I could get so excited about a rucksack!
I am not one of those women who have a thing about handbags. Shoes yes, but bags neh! Despite this I have managed to spend literally hours looking for the right, lightweight racing backpack...After intensive research and debate with Ross, this weekend I made a decision and today, I went and picked it up from the Post Office. Still got to get the wetsuit though...
Last week, before the doc said to take some time off, (That prison sentence is over tomorrow - hooray!) I could only think about how much I wanted to train. The best day of the week was the one where I spent nearly 5 hours on my bike riding trails around Swinley woods. Brilliant!
The last three days, in a different kind of training, brain training, I have been finding little encouraging sayings to motivate us during the race. (I wonder how well they will go down with my team mates after 24 hours of energy expending and no sleep?) As a result of this total race focus, things I used to do, like work, have been put on the back burner. Our grocery shop now is done more on an emergency basis than a planned, hours-long expedition that may eat into valuable training time.
The other thing I have noticed is how my attitude to food has changed. Apart from the fact I seem to be permanently hungry and while I hoover up anything in my path given half a chance, there is also the startling realisation that now I want things to have lots of calories in them so that I can use the energy...
This race is seriously messing with my head!!
And of course, nobody mentioned to me what an impact it would have on my wardrobe...not as a result of the calories (don't even go there...) Despite my passion for shoes, this summer my stunning purple sky high wedges have languished at the back of the cupboard because if I wear them, I might fall off them and twist my ankle. My shoe choice used to be dictated by my clothes choice but not anymore. I want to wear comfy shoes with the right support that will not cause my Achilles to twinge or my fasciitis to flare up....what is happening to me?
It is even impacting on my hairstyle. I have long hair and I used to love spending time doing different hairstyles. Once, Ross said to me that his favourite thing I did with my hair was a French plait. I bet he wishes he could eat his words....that is the only thing I do with it now. It keeps it out of the way and you can get a bike helmet over it and of course you can wash your hair and stick it straight back in the plait... Who would have thought that the Beast of Ballyhoura would become my hairdresser?
I definitely think I have got a case of race invaders!
Tuesday, 15 July 2014
Cabbage leaves and Arnica
You remember that I fell over when we did the 12 hour overnighter? Unfortunately, it has come back to bite me in the bum...literally.
I have a slight groin strain and wait for it....a haematoma on the inside of my left bum cheek. This is a very fancy way for the doctor to say I have a severely bruised inside buttock. Oh my word, it is excruciating.
And the doctor's advice.... take some time off training and don't put any pressure on it. ??
So that means no walking because of the downward pressure and no kayaking or cycling because of having to sit on it. That in itself is a problem, I can't sit on it because it causes pressure so how precisely am I meant to rest it?? I mean, what is a bum for if not for sitting on and having a rest?
The groin strain is relatively easy to treat. I am having sports massage regularly anyway and on the therapists advice doing gentle stretches, applying heat and taking anti-inflammatories. So I am borrowing my son's lavender-scented, pig-shaped, millet-filled heated hottie and applying it to the affected area. Simples! Although, I didn't tell him precisely where I was applying the heat bag which is now comfortingly warming my aching tendons.
My bum will benefit from the anti-inflammatories and according to the doctor, paracetomol, the panacea to all aches and pains, is also a good call. I must admit I was very disheartened when I came out of the doctor's surgery this morning. I had gone there in my cycle kit ready to go out for a nice looong 4 hour cycle this morning. I was very disappointed when she recommended that I didn't do it.
I also think she couldn't get her head around what I was actually training for. I think she thought I was a bit nuts... I can't imagine why.
Like a good little patient, I listened to the Doctor, went home, took off my kit and wore normal clothes. I was really upset about her advice and I know at this stage, every training session is vital and is one session closer to the actual race. I am getting increasingly excited about it now. So, I was really quite tearful when I phoned Ross...
Ross was very sympathetic and also, encouraging, saying we needed to think about how to deal with the situation.
"You could use arnica..."
"There's no way I am rubbing arnica cream where the sun don't shine."
"Not the cream, he said, "The tablets."
"Oh riiight!" I remembered that we used to have a bottle of the pillets. After I rang off, I gingerly went downstairs and dug around in the medicine cupboard.
"Oh bum!" (appropriate expletive I think) The bottle was empty.
Then tonight, Ross, having trawled the internet for suggestions, has told me about another alternative treatment that I should try.
Ross says I need to apply cabbage leaves to the affected area. Yes, that's right, apparently I need to put cabbage leaves in my knickers.
And we all know what cabbage smells like.
Ok, so there is a logic to this cabbage thing. Breast-feeding mothers have been known, myself included in the past, to put cabbage leaves in their bra to help with swelling and discomfort and it did work. So I am willing to give cabbage in the knickers a go.
Consequently, tomorrow morning, I am going to the shops, with a pig-shaped, lavender scented millet bag strapped to my groin and I am going to buy a cabbage and some arnica.
I shall then spend the day smelling like a very old lady.... stale fart and lavender....nice!
The things I do for this race....
I have a slight groin strain and wait for it....a haematoma on the inside of my left bum cheek. This is a very fancy way for the doctor to say I have a severely bruised inside buttock. Oh my word, it is excruciating.
And the doctor's advice.... take some time off training and don't put any pressure on it. ??
So that means no walking because of the downward pressure and no kayaking or cycling because of having to sit on it. That in itself is a problem, I can't sit on it because it causes pressure so how precisely am I meant to rest it?? I mean, what is a bum for if not for sitting on and having a rest?
The groin strain is relatively easy to treat. I am having sports massage regularly anyway and on the therapists advice doing gentle stretches, applying heat and taking anti-inflammatories. So I am borrowing my son's lavender-scented, pig-shaped, millet-filled heated hottie and applying it to the affected area. Simples! Although, I didn't tell him precisely where I was applying the heat bag which is now comfortingly warming my aching tendons.
My bum will benefit from the anti-inflammatories and according to the doctor, paracetomol, the panacea to all aches and pains, is also a good call. I must admit I was very disheartened when I came out of the doctor's surgery this morning. I had gone there in my cycle kit ready to go out for a nice looong 4 hour cycle this morning. I was very disappointed when she recommended that I didn't do it.
I also think she couldn't get her head around what I was actually training for. I think she thought I was a bit nuts... I can't imagine why.
Like a good little patient, I listened to the Doctor, went home, took off my kit and wore normal clothes. I was really upset about her advice and I know at this stage, every training session is vital and is one session closer to the actual race. I am getting increasingly excited about it now. So, I was really quite tearful when I phoned Ross...
Ross was very sympathetic and also, encouraging, saying we needed to think about how to deal with the situation.
"You could use arnica..."
"There's no way I am rubbing arnica cream where the sun don't shine."
"Not the cream, he said, "The tablets."
"Oh riiight!" I remembered that we used to have a bottle of the pillets. After I rang off, I gingerly went downstairs and dug around in the medicine cupboard.
"Oh bum!" (appropriate expletive I think) The bottle was empty.
Then tonight, Ross, having trawled the internet for suggestions, has told me about another alternative treatment that I should try.
Ross says I need to apply cabbage leaves to the affected area. Yes, that's right, apparently I need to put cabbage leaves in my knickers.
And we all know what cabbage smells like.
Ok, so there is a logic to this cabbage thing. Breast-feeding mothers have been known, myself included in the past, to put cabbage leaves in their bra to help with swelling and discomfort and it did work. So I am willing to give cabbage in the knickers a go.
Consequently, tomorrow morning, I am going to the shops, with a pig-shaped, lavender scented millet bag strapped to my groin and I am going to buy a cabbage and some arnica.
I shall then spend the day smelling like a very old lady.... stale fart and lavender....nice!
The things I do for this race....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)