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Juneathon Day 5. Duathalon Report

Standing shivering on a start line isn’t new for me, but last night was different. For a start my husband was stood next to me in his club cycling gear. For another I was wearing a fleece jacket (still covered in mud from the day’s allotmenteering) with a baggy waterproof over the top whilst we were surrounded by extremely fit looking people in tri-suits, compression socks and not much else. What on earth was going on?

For an event that was called the ‘Mega Manic Midsummer Midweek Duathlon’ it was surprisingly wintery last night. The rain from the day continued on into the evening, the temperature dipped and the wind got up. Having seen the race on husband’s cycling club’s Facebook page where they suggested teaming up with a runner and entering as a relay team, we thought it would be great to enter a race together for a change. The duathalon wasa two mile run, followed by a ten mile cycle, finishing off with a final two mile run. It was fairly manic getting organised to get out for the race as I left everything until my husband arrived home on the faint hope he’d chicken out and we wouldn’t have to go. Curses – he was made of sterner stuff – so off we went.

At the sound of the air horn the race started, the whole field shot off and I trailed behind running at what was around my 5k pace. I overtook one person and then sooner than expected I was heading towards the transition area and my waiting husband. I quickly unstrapped the two timing chips from my ankles and swapped them for my faithful jackets. Then husband was off, clip clopping out of transition towards the track (it’s very hard to run in cycling shoes).

Now it was my turn to wait whilst he did his stuff. It was cold and wet standing around, and I’d been right to asume this would be the hardest bit.

I counted him around his 5 laps of Castle Combe circuit, jogging up and down to keep warm, then stripped off my jackets ready to go again. Again we managed to switch the timing chips between our legsoff his legs, and then I was away.

When I had finished my first run I think there were 2 people behind me. When my husband finished his 10 miles there were still quite a few people on the track so I knew he’d made up some time for us. As I ran I could hear people coming up behind me, and sadly two people did overtake me. However two miles is not very far to run and I was soon heading for the finish line.

It was a relief to finish, and after a couple of minutes I was very glad to put my jackets back on again. The running was good fun, it was amazing to see just how fast people can run, but the waiting in the middle was as cold and wet as I thought it would be. Would we do it again? Possibly. Husband had been reading that he could take minutes off his time if he had a proper time trial bike. However since that isn’t going to happen maybe I’d better try and speed up instead!

After all this activity yesterday (don’t forget I also worked on my allotment for two hours in the rain), my thighs were stiff. So today’s Juneathon activity was to go back up to the allotment, but on my bike when my legs were crying out for me to go in the car.

Oh what a beautiful morning!

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the countryside is waking up and everything is growing. What a perfect day for a run!

Well, perfect if you ignore the raging hay fever, the huge tractors, trailers, and tractors-with-trailers storming along the tiny lanes meaning I have to leap into the hedge or get squashed. Also the hordes of cyclists. They must have heard my husband who, on leaving for work this morning, glanced at the sky and said enviously “lovely day for a bike ride. Sigh.”

Despite the annoyance of my quiet lanes being turned into veritable motorways, I did love the chap on a bike who dinged his bell as he came up behind me “just in case you didn’t hear me”. Very thoughtful, if more cyclists did this it would save me from any more near misses with silent cyclists. I also loved the old lady on a very new bike who was riding nearly as slowly as I was running. As she finally managed to overtake me we had time for a lovely chat.

After such a stop-start run, I couldn’t resist stopping to take a duckling photo.

However I quickly got up and carried on running when I turned round and see these two advancing…

First Race of the Year 2014

“You get a medal just for running FIVE miles?” spluttered my husband, as he staggered in after cycling 103 miles (minus a medal). However he had had beans on toast, tea and cake provided at his event so I don’t know why he was moaning, really. The five miles in question, were the “Fearless 5” race which was part of the “Flying Monk” race, held at Charlton Park near Malmesbury, Wiltshire. It was an off road course, around fields, tracks, woods and parts of the estate. It was beautiful, the sun was shining, runners and marshalls were smiling, and yet despite the weather we’d still been promised some mud. The muddy sections had been conveniently named and signposted so we’d know when we were approaching them. These had names like “Boggy Bottom”, “Abbot’s Aisle”, “Monastery Mile”, “Friar’s Frolic” and ”Monk’s Mayhem”. Setting off one chap charged forward like a canonball being fired, pulling faces for his family, whilst the rest of us slotted in behind and tried to find a good pace whilst running in single file around the edge of a field. Mile one was spent just marvelling at this fantastic sport, where you can spend Sunday morning in the company of like-minded souls, feeling your body working as it should, in the sunshine, in the countryside.

Track followed field, and woods followed field. As we came up to the first swamp (“Boggy Bottom” I believe) I could see canonball man flailing around, swearing loudly, having left a trainer behind in the mud. I tip-toped through the mud and left him to it – the sheer volume of his swearing told me he was fine. This unsporting moment was unfortunately captured by the race photographer:-

At least I didn’t run, cartoon-style, over his back to avoid the mud

By mile two I was feeling very glad that I’d entered the “Fearless 5” (which was one lap of the course) rather than the full “Flying Monk 10” (two laps). By mile three I was wondering where the water station was – this race was warm! By mile four I was thinking if they’d had a quarter-length distance (the ‘Nervous Nun’?) I should have entered that. Just as I was thinking of giving running up as it was all too hard, we came round a field and I could hear the P.A. system at the finish line. I overtook one last runner, and was then in turn overtaken by someone else in the usual finish line sprint tit-for-tat. Finished! Medal, cup of water and orange in sweaty hand and suddenly I loved running again. My trainers bore witness to the boggy bits I’d encountered, and scratches on my leg and arm proved I’d found some brambles as well.

I was mightily pleased with my Garmin time of 48:08, and amazed when the official results were out. I was 6th Woman home, and 3rd in my Age Category! I had another chance to wear the beautiful badge my daughter made for me after my Parkrun debut.

3rd in Age Category badge — 3rd in Age Category

I loved this race, and there was just one thing that bothered me about it. Why was it so poorly attended? Only 51 runners in the Fearless 5, and about the same in the Flying Monk 10. I’m guessing so many runners are nearing the end of their marathon training about now and they simply daren’t go to an off road race for fear of getting injured. However, although muddy in places, this course was pretty gentle. No killer hills, just a few inclines (although I do confess I walked up one slope through a wooded section because it was muddy, slippy and I was knackered). The shorter distance was in no way treated as a lesser race than the full 10 miles, and the great organisation and friendly marshalls would make it a perfect introduction to running and racing off-tarmac. There. Rant over. Might just go and polish my medal again.

Finally ready for 2014

I realised the other day, that since the New Year I’ve not been feeling myself.

“Who have you been feeling then, eh?” << Thought I’d get the gag in before anyone else did.

I’ve been feeling like an inferior, older, tireder and sadder version of myself. And that’s not been good. Was it the not running? I certainly felt like a different person when I wasn’t a ‘runner’ for four weeks. Maybe it was the lack of daylight and fresh air because I wasn’t running. With the atroctious weather we’ve had, some days I didn’t set foot outside the house. Maybe it was my recent birthday? I’ve never been too bothered about getting older, but this birthday did feel like standing on the platform at the top of a big playground slide, wobbling slightly before sliding down to the next ‘big birthday’. Maybe it was a hormonal thing. Perhaps it was the couple of weeks of bad sleep I seem to have had. Possibly it was because I have no new goals on the horizon, nothing big and scary to motivate me. By contrast, my husband has some big sporting challenges this year and is sickeningly enthused (and scared, truth be told). Actually I haven’t got a single race to prepare for as I have just been feeling too old and slow. Possibly, just maybe, it’s been a combination of all of these factors. Going down with a cold last weekend seemed like the final straw.

Last week, I was fed up of feeling fed up. I felt bored, boring, tired, unfit and ready to give myself a good talking to (and a kick up the backside). After running too much too quickly a few weeks ago (which didn’t improve my mood) I decided to be sensible this time. I set off and ran just 3 times in the week, with plenty of rest in between and all at a slow easy pace. I bought some long overdue new trainers (which are scarily white, shiny and pink, Ugh!) I tried to get to bed at a better time, and resolved to make sure I was eating better with less sugary rubbish.

New trainers - scarily clean and PINK! — New trainers – scarily clean and PINK!

This week, after shaking off the cold, I feel better. I’ve run on two cold but clear mornings. I’ve had some better sleep. I’ve eaten more fruit and veg, tried to cut out the chocolate, and thought about how much protein I need. I’ve even spent several hours digging on my neglected allotment. It feels like a weight is being lifted from me, and I’m liking it.

Allotment after several sessions of digging

Right then – where’s the race calendar? 2014, I’m finally ready for you!

On being too enthusiastic

Last week’s thought process any something like this:-
Hooray my niggle seems to have finally cleared up.
Fab I’m enjoying my running again.
Yay I’ve found a plan in a magazine to crack 2 hours in a half marathon.
Whoop I’ve run three times in three days.

Damn, my shin is sore.

On a lighter note, Tuesday’s run was in awful weather, incredibly windy with rain lashing down. A mile in, with hail battering my face I actually stopped in the middle of a field and considered turning around and going straight back home. It was only the thought that the second half would be more sheltered than the first that kept me going.

I was right -it was more sheltered, and as I stopped to grab my breath I took a quick selfie to see how wet I was. Not my most attractive photo ever, I think you’ll have to agree.

Update -I made it home safely and discovered the rain was so heavy it had even made it through my best ever running jacket. Boo!

Janathon Day 3. Finally a Good Day

Yay – finally a good day, with a good run. I’m dithering about entering a really tough trail race, so thought I’d run part of the route and see how I felt. It’s one of the muddiest sections, slithering downhill through the woods, followed by a steep hill back up to get home again.

I felt proud of myself for heading off on this run as although it’s not a long route it’s really hard.

The mile down a track to get to the woods was windy, blustery and cold. The path then drops down towards the river and the mud starts.

Muddy puddles, but not the muddiest part yet

The path leads down into the woods and here it is sheltered and quiet. The route is steeper, the mud becomes slippier, and the hard work starts. Even my arms felt tired from windmilling around to keep me upright.

After the stickiest point the path then starts to head back up and finally joins a lane. A sharp right turn leads to the steepest part of the hill which is the route home.

Turning into my drive, I took a final photo, an ‘after’ shot of my legs and feet.

I seem to have changed the colour of my socks. ..

3.73 miles in 42:28, which included lots of photo stops, plenty of slips and many smiles. And just for good measure, a 1 minute 40s plank, *not* in pyjamas this time.

It was windy. I ran.

After the Storm

The storm passed through last night, woke us at 6am, but otherwise no damage here. Decided I’d better get out for a run, and I chose a route without trees (just in case). Since I have a 10K in 3 weeks, and another in 4 weeks time (good planning, eh?) I thought I’d better try some speed work.

I learnt three things today:-

1. Intervals run into the wind and rain are Hard Work.

2. If this bit of road is underwater,

then the section that usually floods will be like this:-

3. Running intervals after running through those two puddles sounds like this (400m fast bit) “squelch squelch squelch squelch squelch squelch” (then 90 seconds recovery) “squeeelch squeeelch squeeelch squeeelch squeeelch”.

Devizes Half Marathon 2013 – The One with the Canoes

So after last Sunday’s mud and bull filled Marshfield Mudlark, I’d been presuming that this weekend’s half marathon would be a straightforward road race. Starting and finishing in the small Wiltshire market town of Devizes, the route quickly heads out into the surrounding countryside. The elevation profile showed 4 hills, rave reports from last year had moaned about the hills, but after my extensive hill training for Marshfield (cough cough) I thought I’d be okay.

Race day dawned grey and damp. I was thankful to wake up from a dream about the race where I got lost in the town centre, so decided to pop into some public toilets, and when I came out the town was deserted, with no marshals or signs to be seen anywhere. Hoping it wasn’t a prophetic dream I set off in good time, managed to park just across the road from the start area and joined a very short queue for the portaloos. All was looking good so far. I managed to meet up with two online friends from Runner’s World (that I’ve met a couple of times before), and we shivered and chatted before we were summoned to the start line, half an hour before the race started. This was the perfect time for the heavens to open and the rain to start falling.

My friends were both aiming for sub 2 hours, whereas I was hoping to get somewhere close to my Chippenham time of 2:13:35, so I was aware that as we got closer to the start time I’d need to shuffle backwards. We couldn’t hear any of the pre-race briefing, we couldn’t see the Mayor who was supposed to be starting the race, but we did suddenly hear an air horn and felt everyone start moving forwards. Whoops – no time to head for the back, I just had to start running. We crossed the start line – surprisingly with no chip timing mat – started our Garmins, and we were off.

My friends disappeared off and I struggled to stick to my 10 minutes per mile planned pace. Runners streamed past me, as I was that annoying person who gets in the way by starting too far forward. As I’m used to starting at the back this was a depressing experience that I won’t be repeating. I was aware I was going off too fast, but decided the first hill would slow me down. The rain carried on falling as we headed out of Devizes on a main road. We headed up the hill, which wasn’t as steep as I’d thought it would be, but it did carry on around a corner which was too much for some people who started walking. The wind and rain was battering down on us now, but at least climbing the hill helped warm me up.

The views from the top of the hill would have been amazing if it hadn’t been smothered in cloud. I did see three White Horses (I think it was actually 2 Horses from three different angles), and we ran through some very pretty villages. Unfortunately the rain was getting heavier, and at one point it felt like hailstones. The side of the road that we were running along gave up being ‘full of puddles’ and moved into ‘small continuous stream’. One house we went past had two canoes outside – it was very tempting…

The rest of the race went swimmingly (sorry). I had a gel at four miles, just before the water stop, and planned to have another at mile 10. I only usually take one gel in a race but thought I’d try two and see if it helped with my stamina towards the end of the race. The next couple of hills were okay, I was soaked to the skin and my legs were feeling stiff. I really wasn’t feeling the love for running at this point, but knew the only way to keep warm was to carry on running.

The Mile 7 ‘Heart FM Cheer Point’ did make me smile. It was in a farmyard, with a Heart FM car with the radio turned up, a man with cups of water and a lady with a large foam hand and a tray of jelly babies. Very Wiltshire!

Eventually I reached mile 10 and took my second gel. Only a 5k to go. Mile 11 – less than one of my ‘short’ runs. One more water station, a sharp turn off the road onto a gravelly track and the last hill. Oh boy -they saved the best till last! This was a steep hill, made worse by the fact it now had a stream running down it making it slippy and very loose underfoot. I started off running but when the lady just in front of me started walking then of course my legs automatically started walking as well. At least there was a steep downhill on the otherside which gave me the impetus to carry on to the finish.

As I came back onto the field, which we had to run around to get to the finish line, suddenly I heard shouting and clapping. My friends had waited and were cheering me over the line. It gave me enough of a mental push to put in a sprint finish. I crossed the line, according to my Garmin, in 2:13:05, another PB by 30 seconds.

Although I was pleased that my friends had waited in the rain for me, I was even more impressed with the marshals who stood out there, in the rain, for hours and hours. They were all smiling and encouraging, and they made a huge difference. Thank you, Marshals, and thank you Devizes. I may well be back next year… as long as my trainers have dried out.

Summer Holidays

Cue Cliff Richard “We’re all going on a … Summer Holiday. No more working for a week or two” (I’ll let you continue to sing the rest of it in your head. Or out loud, up to you. Just be amazed / surprised / embarrassed on how many of the words you know!)

Actually, we’re not off on our hols for a couple of weeks yet, but we are officially in Summer Holiday Mode because the children finished school on Tuesday at 12.20pm (random time). Knowing how difficult it is to get myself sorted to run when the kids are home I very wisely did my long run on Monday. How smug did I feel? Actually I felt hot, sweaty and tired, but I’m sure smug was in there somewhere as well.

Since then – nothing. As predicted I have failed to get out running for all the rest of the week. “I’ll wait until the kids get up and then go” (always going to be a fail with a teen and an almost teen. By the time they get up it’s lunchtime). “I’ll go this evening when its cooler” (thanks to this summer’s surprise heatwave it hasn’t been cooler until about midnight, and that’s a bit late to run). The best one yet, on Friday, thinking I’d have a good breakfast ready for a hard session. Then I decided I’d better let it digest, so thought I’d go back to bed and catch up on Facebook and Twitter for half an hour. An hour and a half later I woke up with my phone stuck to my face, and still no run done.

So now it’s Saturday. Last night the forecast was for heavy rain, all day. “Lovely. I’ll run in the rain for a change” I promised myself. It’s now 12.35 and its still dry outside. As soon as the rain comes I’ll be out there. In the meantime, its nearly lunchtime…