"Have you seen the forecast? They're forecasting a six foot swell tomorrow..." The Irish fellow to my left is clearly desperate to chat to a friendly face, and I'm sure he's a lovely chap but I find myself wishing that he would (a) shut up and (b) bugger off!!! It's the Ironman pre-race briefing on Saturday 8th September. The fellow on my left is a fellow Ironman first timer. On my right sits Dawks, as nervous and excited as I am, and also, I am sure, wishing our newfound friend would shut up! We have no desire to hear how bad the sea may possibly be tomorrow... we have no way of altering what is in the lap of the gods... Tenby will throw at us whatever it chooses to on the day! After an hour of being given the lowdown on the must-dos and no-nos of Ironman racing (which basically comes down to: no littering, no drafting, no nudity and no outside assistance) we are released back onto the streets of Tenby to fret our way through the rest of the day. With our bikes racked and our transition bags hung up on our hooks, the interminable wait for race start begins.. Race day begins ridiculously early with a 4.30am breakfast, lube up, and kit up. It's then time to drive the short distance from our rented bungalow into Tenby and pitch up at the transition zone, ready for a walk to the start area and line up. The town is alive with nervous energy. Who could believe a little seaside town could be so alive at 6am on a Sunday morning?!! There are nervous athletes and doting friends and family everywhere! There isn't much chatter between Dawks and I... just a companiable but nervy silence. With Dawks being a quicker swimmer than me, her starting position for the walk down onto the beach is somewhat ahead of mine, as we self-seed according to swim speed. With 15 mins to go, we say our good wishes and separate with hopes of seeing one another much later in the day. We are asked to close ranks, and then start to file down the sloping zig zags towards the beach. We each of us have to remove our shoes and deposit a pink plastic bag on our numbered hook on our way to the beach. The bag contains our shoes for the run from the beach back to transition, together with any food or drink we may want immediately after the swim, and will contain our wetsuits once back in transition. We have been drilled at race briefing that we MUST NOT leave this pink bag on the hook after the swim as that would constitute littering and result in immediate disqualification! Pink Bag Paranoia has become a thing amongst the assembled athletes, with everyone panicking about losing their bag or not finding it on their hook afterwards! Once I am just over half way down the ramps, with my bag securely on its peg, the line stops... the front athletes have hit the starting line. Standing on those zig zags an earie semi-silence descends before the Welsh National Anthem and AC/DC's Thunderstruck each send tingles up the spine of every single assembled athlete. 2500 neoprene-clad individuals are suddenly fuelled by a new spike of adrenaline as they set off first the elite male field and then the elite females... and then it is the turn of the rest of us mere mortals! It is over 10 minutes after the first mortal athlete has crossed the start-line when I am making my way down the sand into the waiting surf... it's only gentle white breakers but it hints that the sea isn't entirely flat out there! I just want the swim done and out of the way. It is by far my weakest discipline despite hours and hours spent in the pool in the last 18 months, and the sea has always scared me with its imposing depth and unpredictable currents. I wade in until I am waist height and just beyond the break line, take a breath, and launch myself into the water. I'm relieved to find that my goggles are water tight and comfortable. I have found that they are about 85 per cent of the time... the other 15 per cent, I struggle to get them water tight without feeling that my eyeballs are being sucked out!! In the last 18 months I have tried about a dozen different (some very expensive) pairs, but have always come back to the cheap ten pound pair I am wearing today. With stories of athletes getting their goggles knocked off in the scrum that the Ironman swim can turn into, I also have an identical pair tucked down the front of my wetsuit "Just in case"!! The sea is alive with other swimmers. Ahead of me streak the fast fish, already making great gains on those of us further down the field. Amongst them somewhere is Dawks. It looks mayhem and I hope that she is okay. Out past the first buoy - the only one that we turn left at - the field has opened up a bit and I find that I am not jostled too badly. The sea is a bit more lumpy than I would like, rising and falling into peaks and troughs about 4 foot deep. I hope it doesn't make me feel seasick. I try to hold a left-hand line as I had been told that it would help me avoid the worst of the current. Others are doing likewise and we often cross one another's path. Sighting forwards I see the large turnbuoy appear and disappear in the swell. I pass a support kayak on my right and calculate that I am about half way to the first big buoy. Having swum an almost identical course for Long Course Weekend, I know that this section of the course feels by far the longest. I will myself along to the turn-buoy all the time congratulating myself that I am actually, finally, doing this - I am competing in an Ironman and getting through the swim. As we approach the buoy, the entire field condenses and it is a melee of swimmers. We are being urged by the support boats to keep wide as the swell is moving the buoy and the swimmers around a lot. I am prepared for this and revert to a few strokes of breaststroke. It keeps my head up so I can see what's going on, and deters other swimmers from getting too close to me. I get round the buoy and breathe a sigh of relief... in my head that's the hard bit done for the first lap (It's a 2 lap course!). I settle back into my freestyle rhythm and try to breath to the right only. I'm not so good at breathing on that side, I favour my left but my reasons are twofold - firstly, the waves are coming from the left and so breathing that way leaves me susceptible to mouthfuls of brine, and secondly it enables me to see the spectacular view that is Tenby at sunrise. It really is something special and I urge myself to enjoy it despite the fact that I am swimming in a lumpy sea with 2500 other athletes and have a day of endurance and uncertainty ahead of me. Savour the moment LuLu... these are treasured times and it's an honour to be here doing it! Thud! My foot kicks something firm yet yielding. I guess it's a jellyfish. Tenby has plenty of them. They are mainly gentle giants - huge 10, 20, 30 kg lumps of pink jelly with a sting that's milder than a stinging nettle. I've become accustomed to them so it doesn't bother me. I swim on. The smell of diesel lies across the water as I approach the RNLI lifeboat that sits in the middle of the bay. I'm praying it doesn't trigger the nausea that threatens thanks to the swell... I'm feeling jubilant as I hit the turn-buoy by the lifeboat station on the other side of the bay... just the third leg of the triangle to complete, going with the waves, before briefly touching solid ground and repeating it all again to complete the swim... It's easier to see the beach today than it was for Long Course Weekend, when the sun was setting over the town and blinding us. It doesn't feel long before I'm passing Goskar rock and touching my feet onto the sand... As I stagger onto the beach, I glance at my watch and find I have swum my fastest ever 1900m. I'm thrilled but quell my excitement as I run across the beach and back into the water - I've got it all to do again! Lap 2 the swell is a little more forceful and the turn at the top of the bay is hard going. 100m or so beyond the buoy, I think to myself that it had been around here that I had kicked the jellyfish on the last lap. No sooner than that thought escaped, I have swum into a small group of them!! My hands touch one after the other and I see as I swim through that these are small tea-plate size ones, in a gentle shade of baby pink! It's not the most pleasant experience but I find myself quietly pleased with my own nonchalance! The rest of the swim soon disappears into a haze as I keep my head down and push on... more diesel fumes as I cross the middle of the bay... the turn at the lifeboat station... and I am beachward bound for the last time! Hitting my watch as I cross the timing mats coming onto the beach I am thrilled to have swum 4 minutes faster than I had done in a calm sea for Long Course Weekend. It's a good start for a long day... Across the beach, up the ramps, collect pink bag, put on shoes, strip wetsuit to waist... and run the kilometer through town whilst consuming an energy gel! I get a shout out from Ian and Ellie on my way. I grin... and get on with the task in hand! Into transition, grab changing bag off hook, into changing zone, strip wetsuit and thin tri-shorts in favour of my padded bike shorts, bag back on peg, helmet, gloves and protective glasses on and grab the bike... clatter to the mount line in my cleats... step over the bike... and I'm away. I have 112 hilly miles to chase down Dawks whilst keeping within the cutoff for the bike leg (a total time of 10.5 hrs from the start of my swim). Based on my swim and transition time I have about 8.5hrs at my disposal. Game on!! There is a wind blowing from the west. Great! The first part of the course is almost directly into it! It's hard going on the first lap, and more so on the second lap. There has been overnight rain and the course, although drying, is wet to begin with. I am horrified by the amount of accidents I come across, including a few where ambulances are in attendance. Having passed the first ambulance, I panic as I didn't look to see if I could see the bike or rider. Please don't let it be my accident-prone buddy. I spend the rest of the bike leg hoping her ride is incident free, and am mighty relieved when I see her mum just past the half way mark - if she's out cheering me on, Dawks must be fine! More friends and family calling me on through Tenby - it's so nice to hear familiar voices. The bike leg seems to take forever. The support out on the course is fantastic - you really do feel like a hero for the day - but it doesn't quite provide enough distraction for me, and I am bored bored bored of being on that bike! Into the last 10km... I am counting them down by the minute. It is where all the hard work really comes, with the second ascents of Wisemans Bridge and Whitehill climb. I stay in the saddle and grind out these hills - something I could never have done 12 months ago! I quietly congratulate myself and grind on towards Tenby. I had been expecting to catch Dawks up with a couple of miles to go, but my guess is that she had more than 5 mins lead on me getting into the water this morning and will have swum a good 15 minutes or so quicker, so I have 20 minutes to make up. I'm finally heading up onto the main road to come down into Tenby. Whilst glancing at my watch to see how much time I have before the cut off (I have enough time in hand...), I realise that I really don't want to pass Dawks at this stage as she would be cutting her own cut off fine! At last I am approaching the dismount line. I have ridden 112 miles without getting off once! I climb off with my legs a little wobbly, clatter across to rack my bike, and hit the portaloo before heading to get changed. The portaloo is oddly clean and fresh! I wasn't expecting that, and it's a relief to empty my bladder! Right... let's go chase down Dawks! I grab my run kit bag off the hook and dive into the changing area to be confronted by the sight of Dawks sitting on the floor putting her trainers on! We are both so relieved to see one another!! In the interests of getting out on the run quickly, I'm working on autopilot and forget to switch my shorts to my thin running ones (I have worn one pair of shorts throughout the day for my shorter races). I realise as we are replacing our kit on the pegs. Not to worry, I'll run in my bike shorts! There's a first time for everything!! Let's go and bring this Ironman home!! Dawks and I had discussed this day ad nauseum in the run up to the event, and always believed that we would end up meeting either late in the bike leg or early in the run. I had always vowed that if that happened I would pace Dawks through to the finish so that we could finish together what we had started together 16 months previously. We could not have timed the meet-up better! We gently jog out into the run course to cheers from friends, family and strangers alike. We have our Team TiTs T-shirts on, and it is not long before the crowd start to get behind us. Initially it is slow progress as Dawks struggles to find her legs after so long on the bike, but I remind her that there is no hurry - we have just over 6.5 hours to complete the marathon within the 17 hour final cut-off. If needs be, we can fast-walk the majority of it and still make it! The course is 4 laps and very hilly. We settle into a rhythm of fast-walking the uphills and jogging the flats and downhills. The aid stations are abundant and are stocked with sweets, crisps and plenty to drink. It is late in the day on a very long day, so we opt for Red Bull and Coca Cola as our fuel of choice. Occasionally, we grab a morsel of something solid, but the sugar and caffeine in the coke and Red Bull are what keeps us going, and we are craving our next fix ahead of each aid station! There isn't much chatter between us. We are battleworn and weary. It doesn't matter. We have done tough stuff together for the last 18 months and are comfortable to run together in relative silence. The cheers from the crowds, especially when they see our team name, lift our spirits. It is particularly raucous through Tenby town centre where the crowds are outside the town's bars, and they remember us after the first lap. I work the crowd a bit to lift us up and carry us forward. We occasionally exchange weary smiles, acknowledging that (a) we are actually getting this Ironman done; (b) we both made it to the run leg; and (c) barring major incident, we have now got it in the bag, we just need to bring it home. It's a weird feeling. We could be very emotional but we are so very tired and emotionally drained from the day, and still have work to do before we finish. We hold it together and push on. Jog, walk, jog, drink, repeat... until finally we are each wearing 4 coloured bands on our wrists - a sign that we turn for the finish on our next loop through town. We jog down into town. There is a loop that takes us along the top of the beach. It is dark and the town's light are shining beautifully across the water. Despite the desire to get the run finished, I urge Dawks to slow a little and take it in. It's a pretty special sight. Then it's back through town, and finally we are approaching the turn-off onto the red carpet. We have already agreed to separate just before the finish in order to get our own individual finisher pictures and call out, and Dawks urges me ahead of her with a quarter of a mile to go. It feels odd to leave her at this point, but I jog off ahead and soon hit that hallowed red pile... the crowds are still there, despite the late hour, and I run towards the MC who checks the name on my race number and gives me the shout out: "Luan, You Are An Ironman" It doesn't feel real. I collect my medal and have my photo taken, and wait for Dawks to cross the line too. She's not far behind and looks even more shell-shocked than I feel as she crosses the line to her own shout out. Ian and Ellie are clamouring for us to get round the barriers to see them, but we want to collect our finishers shirts and grab something to eat and drink from the competitor's marquee first. We agree to meet them shortly on the other side of the marquee.
Once into the warmth of the marquee, with my adrenaline levels dropping, my blood sugar plummets. It scares Dawks as I go white and very shaky, but I am used to it happening and tell her I will be fine once I've had a gel. I slurp one alongside my cup of tea and quickly come back to life. Shame the same couldn't be said for Dawks' legs! She quickly starts to seize up, and is walking like the tin man by the time we leave the marquee to collect the bikes and bags and meet up with our families. We are still in shock that we have done it as we say goodbye to first Dawks' mum and friend Gill, and later Ian and Ellie... It's now two months later at the time of writing this post and I'm still not sure that it has sunk in... We are Ironmen!!
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Well dear friends, what can I say? My sincerest apologies that it has been so long since I last sat and put fingers to keyboard!! Needless to say it has been a bit busy!!
What with...? Well... April saw Team Tits complete our first ever Sportive Bike ride - the 76 mile Mad March Hare - postponed from March due to the ice and snow. We had been crazy nervous about this event - our furthest ride by a long long way, and with some mean climbs, but we managed it fine! We also took part in our first triathlon (a sprint distance) at the end of the month, which was a great introduction to the triple disciplines that would dominate the rest of our season. May saw us taking part in Rat Race Dirty Weekend - a 20+ mile, 200+ obstacle race, and then our first century bike ride (actually 107 miles) - the Tour of Pembrokeshire - with an epic 10, 221 feet of ascent! Again we had been nervous about this ride, but it was a glorious day, and the aid stations were well stocked with great foods and drink, so it ended up being an amazing day in the saddle. We also jetted off to Mallorca for a combined family holiday and warm weather training week. We got in 6 runs, 3 days in the saddle, included a couple of 50 plus milers, and a few sea swims! June saw us take on our first half-Iron distance triathlon - the Lakesman Half - a 1.2 mile lake swim in Derwentwater, followed by 56 miles on the bike and a half marathon. We loved it!!! It was the first time we had properly competed under the "Team Tits" name and the Lakeland crowd really got behind us!! We had so much fun!! Fast forward to July and we took on the Long Course Weekend. This was truly our Ironman Dress Rehearsal - the same swim and bike course as Ironman Wales, although a different run course, but done across Friday evening (swim), Saturday (bike) and Sunday (run). We were so lucky for the weather. Friday night, the sea was blissfully calm and warm and the sun was setting as we swam. It made sighting the beach a little tricky but it was a gorgeous swim and I must confess that, despite my dislike of swimming, I actually almost enjoyed it!! What I didn't enjoy however, was the chafing to my neck which started about 600 metres into the swim and got progressively worse over the distance. By the end, the whole of the back of my neck was red raw and weeping, a condition it remained in for the rest of the weekend! Saturday's bike ride was, to be honest, attritional! We knew it was going to be tough - it's a long, tough old course - but we probably weren't fully prepared for the mental fatigue of pushing through for so many lonely miles. It was, however, very good preparation for the real event in a couple of months. The marathon was hot... really hot... and rather hilly! To qualify as a finisher for the marathon and also for our fourth (Long Course Weekend) medal, we had to complete the distance within 6 hours. Normally, this wouldn't seem too much of a challenging cut-off, but with the previous 2 days in the bag, with a very hilly course, and with a hot sun blaring down on us, it became potentially more of a challenge!! We got chatting to a couple of people just before the start of the marathon who recognised us (or more specifically, our Team Tits T-shirts) from the Lakesman!!! We were becoming nationally (internationally? we were in Wales...?) known!!! Our aim was about a 5:45 finish, and we finally made it home in 5:34 which we were actually very pleased with! Mission accomplished for the weekend... We were long course athletes!! August saw us taking some down time from competing whilst getting some solid training and holiday family time in - a week on the gorgeous Gower coast and a week up in Anglesey, all accompanied by our trusty bikes and running shoes!! And then it was into September... and Ironman Wales on the 9th!! My account of that day will follow in the next couple of days ... There is a saying that a picture paints a thousand words. I think perhaps the above photograph writes a whole storybook...
Pictured from left to right are Patient Tolerant Husband, Nearly Ultra Daughter, Martin, Mad Ultra Mummy, and Lucy (aka Dawko). It was taken after a very wet Wyre Forest Parkrun just 5 months ago. A little more about that later... Those who have been following Mad Ultra Mummy over the last 12 months will probably recognise Lucy as being the other half of the duo Team TiTs. I think the team is about to celebrate its first birthday, having come into existence when Lucy and I coaxed/cajoled/bullied/whatever one another into doing Ironman Wales 2018 about this time last year. TiT stands for Triathlete in Training, in case you are interested!!! (and yes, that was my idea!!!). Our promise to one another was that we would get each other through the journey, whatever it threw at us. It has been an interesting, if not sometimes challenging, first year! On the sporting front, Lucy has run her first UltraMarathon, I have improved my swimming, we have both vastly improved our cycling abilities and we have had an absolute ball ticking off a number of firsts en route to (hopefully) our first triathlon next week... including open water swimming, night swimming, and long distance cycling, duathlon, and aquathlon! But Lucy has also faced the heart-ache of dealing with her Dad, Martin's, terminal cancer diagnosis. Martin was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumour 3 years ago. He and the family were advised at the time that he probably had about 12 to 18 months to live. But brain surgery, chemo and a good dose of bloody determination kept Martin going. He fought in every way he could to keep going and doing what he wanted to do, even managing to run the London Marathon with Lucy last April, just 2 days before his last lot of brain surgery. Sadly, that surgery was the last effective treatment Martin was able to receive, with the follow-up chemo failing to have any further effect. In Autumn 2017, treatment was withdrawn as there was no further benefit to be gained. The photo above was taken in November. Martin was still running Parkrun most weeks. Living up in Nottingham, he had never run Wyre Forest Parkrun so we all ran it together. It was a vile wet day but we didn't care. Martin loved it. We sat down for coffee afterwards and the dying man glowed with vitality at a morning well spent - another 3 miles on the clock - an act of defiance at the cancer that was worming its way into his brain - and a man determined to squeeze every last ounce of living from the life that he had left. Humble gentleman that he was, Martin said that he was honoured that I would choose to run Parkrun with him. The fact was, it was my honour entirely to run with such a down-to-earth, real life hero. Sadly, Martin's Parkrun days were soon to draw to a close. He continued for as long as his body would allow him to but eventually, at the end of 2017, his balance, coordination and motor skills became too affected for him to continue his weekly ritual. His physical and mental deterioration were very rapid from that point onwards and he spoke about feeling that he was letting people down by "losing his fight" against the cancer. The fact is, in the war against death, none of us are ever winners... all we can ever do is never give up and try to win each individual battle. And in that regard, Martin was an out and out, gold medal winner. He would not lie down and let the 'inevitable' happen. His determination was incredible. We lost Martin in the middle of March. His funeral was last week. It was incredibly well attended by so many people, from so many walks of life, all of whom referred to Martin as "inspirational'. He may have moved on to more celestial Parkruns now, but his legacy will continue to inspire so many people (me included) to push that little harder, to squeeze that little bit more from themselves, from their lives. With Martin, Lucy and Karen's blessing, in Martin's honour, I am dedicating this whole year's efforts to Macmillan Nurses. Please forgive me if I bully you to donate just a pound or two to this worthy cause. It's all about helping to keep people winning those battles... If you would like to donate, please follow the link below: As I sit here typing on the 19th March, there is a good layer of snow covering everything outside the windows. We don't generally get snow this late into the spring in the UK, but it's been one of those winters... the kind of winter where it's as if Jack Frost stored a load of extra bags of cold weather and forgot about them... and each time he gets pushed back inside by Spring, he finds another sack and comes dashing out to throw it at us!
It has caused mayhem with Spring running and cycling events with the majority having to be cancelled, causing disruption to a lot of people's early season build-up events and costing thousands of pounds for the poor race directors. My event 2 weeks ago (The Mad March Hare cycle ride) has been postponed until next month, when hopefully the weather will be a little more amenable. But for now, all this snow has me thinking about how things snowball... I once had a thought of getting back to doing a bit of running... it led to me deciding to run a marathon. That single marathon made me go back and do more until I had the thought of doing maybe 50. The ability to run 26 miles made me wonder how much further I could run and got me into the worlds of multi-day racing and ultra-distance running. Ultra-distance running got me thinking if I could maybe endure long distances in other disciplines... and has led to this year being the year I (hopefully) attempt the Ironman Distance Triathlon and my first 'Marathon' Swim. That's one huge... and ever increasing snowball! This 'Spring' - if we dare to call it that yet with the snow still on the ground - has seen me fall victim to another snowball effect, however. Long term readers of my blog will know that my immune system can be a little, err, fickle. It's been about a half dozen years since it really threw teddy out of the pram completely. Since then, once I got a grip on what worked and what didn't for me, I have generally been able to keep it ticking along nicely by being watchful of my diet and maintaining a steady, consistent exercise programme. Fast forward to the end of February this year however, and I went down with the flu! Now that would be bad enough in itself but it led to secondary infections, first in my sinuses, then in my outer ear, then in my inner ear, which then triggered a Bell's Palsy meaning that the right side of my face pretty much stopped working!! Now that's another big snowball!!! Queue MadUltraMummy spending best part of 3 weeks almost totally in bed, floored, exhausted and pumped full of anti-biotics and steroids. I'm up and about now, if a little weary and battle-worn, and on the last few days of steroids. My hearing has partly returned, and the muscles on my face are slowly coming back to action so I am hopefully on the mend, but it has been a bit of a haul! What of my Ironman training? Well, there has been none of course. Thankfully, I had laid down a good strong foundation throughout the winter and was technically well ahead of where I needed to be by this time of year, so I am hopeful that, even with a very gradual return to training in the next few weeks, I should be back on track by the middle of April. That will see me right to take part in that postponed Mad March Hare bike ride, so fingers crossed... But there is no rush. My main priority has to be in getting myself 100% well - health comes ahead of fitness. Stay warm out there folks... see you out there once the ice and snow melts!! I was going to leave it until the end of the month to give you my first update on my training so far this year but sometimes the craziness is too good not to share!!!
You will be aware from my last post that my swimming is a bit of a "work in progress' at the moment. It's not great, but it's a whole lot better since the fear of Ironman Wales forced me to focus on sorting it out. So much better, in fact, that I have a nervous confidence that, provided conditions aren't too vile in the sea at Tenby, I should get out of the water in enough time to hit the cut-off. I also know that I could improve much more on that position by continuing to work on my drills in the pool and focusing on my form. The problem, dear reader, is that I can have a tendency to be a tad lazy. Yes, you read that right. I confess. If I think I have done enough, I tend to rest back on my laurels and think, yeah... okay, I've got this. But it doesn't have to be a problem, you see... because I know myself well enough to understand this... and play myself at my own game... by playing a trump card!! My trump card normally means setting myself an even scarier target and making it public... so here we go!! Dear reader, I have signed up for a 10,000m swim in November!! How cool* is that?!!!!! (*for "cool" read "insanely petrifying", or "OMG bonkers", or just "plain insane") The swim is at the London Aquatics Centre (as used in the 2012 Olympics) and comprises 10 x 10 laps up and down the 50m pool. I am sticking with that description as it doesn't sound quite so scary as "swimming an entire 10km", "covering 6.2 miles of front crawl", or "bubble, bubble, breath, repeat for about 4hrs and 40mins" ... all of which are also, actually, what it is about!!! What have I done???!!! Dear reader, what I believe I have done is give myself the incentive to get my swimming properly nailed this year! My hope is that it will help me to swim much longer swims during the open-water season this summer in order to get the miles in... so much so that, hopefully, by the time I come out of the water at Tenby in September, I will be thinking it was a short swim... which should make the first part of Ironman Wales feel that little bit easier... Here's hoping anyway! Watch this space!!! By the way, it is my first Aquathlon next Sunday - a 400m swim followed by a 10km run. Eeeek! I'll let you know how it goes! There is a touted 'wisdom' that states that in order to become expert at something one must dedicate 10,000 hours of practice to it. Whether or not that is true, it has me thinking how many hours I will need to dedicate to my 'new' disciplines of cycling and swimming in order to attain a certain level of mediocrity that will enable me to achieve my Ironman dream for this year.
My swimming is my perceived Achilles heel. Back in May 2017, when this Iron-plan was hatched, my freestyle stroke was unbalanced, inefficient and pretty darned ugly. Between then and now I have swum over 70 miles - probably dedicating somewhere around 60 hours to the cause. January 2018 alone saw me putting in over 6 hours and 10 miles of work, and that figure looks set to be higher for each month between now and Ironman Wales in September. Let us say, notionally, that my total time dedicated to the swim is 200 hours... will that be enough for me to have a 'good' swim in Tenby's waves? By good, I do, of course, mean good-for-me, not as in placing somewhere high in the field... my swim times, dear reader, are embarrassing! Whilst many of my contemporaries can swim at a pace somewhere around 1:30 to 1:40 per 100m, my endurance pace is down at about 2:23 per 100m. But that pace should, just about, be good enough to get me out of the water and into T1 well ahead of the 2hrs 20min cut-off time imposed by Ironman Wales. I would hope to improve my pace slightly between now and September, but the main focus will be on staying efficient whilst building endurance so that I am out of the water not only in time, but in good shape for the bike ride and run. Turning to the bike ride, this is where I know I need to put in the most hours of preparation. The bike section of Ironman is where the most time is spent, and therefore the biggest gains can be made. My hill climbing skills are going to need a lot of honing and my endurance improving. The 16 hours I put in during January were nowhere near enough, and this is to be my focus for February. I have an incentive to ensure I stay on course for the month, as the Mad March Hare looms for the start of March. The Hare is a 72 mile ride with one particularly challenging climb so I have set myself the challenge to ride the bike every day throughout the month of February to get the legs conditioned. Some days will only be 15 to 20 mins rides, but some will be 3 to 4 hours or more in the saddle to build that endurance, and some will be over the sort of hills which I would normally avoid like the plague, to ensure that I feel more confident . Will an additional 2500 miles between now and September be enough to get me to mediocre on the bike, do we think? Hmmm.... this brings me to the run. I have few fears regarding the run in view of my ultra-running background. I know it won't be easy coming off the long bike ride but I have confidence that my legs (and head) can still do it. What about hours of training etc? Well, I am pretty sure that over my decades of training, my legs have done considerably more than 10,000 hours of run-training. Has that made me an expert runner? I think not!!! I can certainly run, but I am not sure that I would say that I run well. Bio-mechanically, I have a number of issues that my training has failed to completely iron out and I have pretty much lost the ability to run as fast as I used to 10 years ago. Perhaps I 'peaked' at around the 10,000 hours point and have declined since then? That is possibly closer to the truth... Whatever the outcome, dear reader, you have my assurance that I am going to give this my very best shot, and bore you to death with it for the next 9 months... My last planned ultra-distance run pre-Ironman was completed last Saturday so it is now ALL about the Ironman. The end of February will see me take part in my first aquathlon (swim/run) - how exciting!!! And then it is busy, busy, busy from there! Please feel free to follow my anticipated metamorphosis from Mad-Ultra-Mummy, to Iron-Mummy. All shouts of encouragement welcomed!!! Well, I guess there's nothing like a big run or two to help reduce your immune system to a gibbering wreck!!! Friends, after the efforts in the Sahara, and maybe a little marathon a few days after my return, I succumbed to a chest infection!! I'm guessing my system was maybe a little below par when the germs found their way into my body, and decided it was a great place to set up home. I'm generally pretty resilient these days, but even my body has a limit, and so I spent three weeks fighting something that I really should have shaken off in about 5 days.
I'm pleased to say that I'm now back feeling my usual bouncy self again, and have gradually returned to a light smattering of training (it is, after all, my 'down' season right now!). I do, however, have a very firm eye on all of the challenges that the New Year holds in store and so do not have the luxury of being able to completely ferment for a couple of months!! What does 2018 look like? Well... January holds a 40 mile run from Droitwich to Broadway along the Wychavon Way - the one Ultra I have allowed myself for the year prior to digging in with the training for Ironman Wales. February will see me toe the line at my first Aquathlon - a 400m swim followed by a 10km run. March will be the Mad March Hare cycle sportive from Birmingham to Broadway and back. April will host my my first ever triathlon!! May will see me once again take on Dirty Weekend 20 mile Obstacle Race, and also the 107 mile cycle Tour of Pembrokeshire . June will see me take on my first half-Iron distance Triathlon - The Lakesman - 1.2 mile lake swim, 56 mile bike ride and a half marathon to finish. July holds the Long Course Weekend in Tenby - a proper warm up for the Ironman with an attempt at each of the full distances but spread over 3 days. August will hopefully see me toe the line at Reykjavik Marathon, and then the big one, Ironman Wales, sits on the horizon for 9th September. As a focus immediately post Ironman, I have booked in for the Snowdonia Marathon for October too. Whilst I can't imagine I was be uber-competitive by this point in the season, this race has been on my bucket list since 2003 so I am thrilled to be finally, hopefully, ticking it off. In true LuLu style, I will not be alone for all of these events. For the majority of my training and racing antics in 2018 I am being joined by my Ironman training partner and buddy Lucy. We've had a load of giggles with our training to date and I'm sure there will be plenty more to come. Mad-Nearly-Ultra-Daughter and Patient-Tolerant-Husband have also agreed to do some of the events (although the former only the shorter, child-friendly ones obviously). As always, I am dedicating my antics for the year to charity. 2018 will be dedicated to Macmillan Nurses. I have personal reasons for this, as set out on my charity page below. If you could just spare me a couple of pounds donation towards this valuable cause, I would be tremendously grateful. It's been almost 2 years since I first spotted details of the Saharan Challenge on the Action Challenge website. I was sold on it immediately! I'd always been captivated by the Marathon des Sables but the price tag and length of the challenge had always put me off. Yet here was a chance to experience some of what the MdS offered but on a smaller, cheaper (and yes probably easier!!!) scale... 2 marathons in 2 days through the Draa valley/Sahara Desert. A chance to explore a new country and culture whilst running... in an extreme environment that sounded truly epic... hell yeah!!!! Those of you who know me well will guess that my next step was to see who I could drag along for the ride... and up stepped Rachey! Buoyed by completing her first marathon and lured by the promise of a hotel and celebration dinner, she took the bait back in April 2016 and the adventure began! For me, the distance was never going to be the challenge - the run entails 2 marathons on consecutive days, split by a camp in the desert overnight. I am no stranger to back to back marathons or ultra distances and so that, in itself, held no fear. The terrain and the temperatures, however, were going to be the test! I wasn't too concerned, however, as I had the whole summer to prepare and had been doing multiple ultra-distance and marathon runs each year and had the same planned for 2017 so my fitness would pretty much see to itself (I hoped!!!) Rachey opted to take up a charity place for the Challenge and figured that rather than just having a single challenge for the year, she would make it a year of challenges... and promptly signed up to join me for most of the 2017 season for both ultra-distance races and obstacle races! Our first real tests of our specific fitness for the challenge came back in June 2017 when both Runstock (an 8 hour obstacle race) and then The Wall (69 miles from Carlisle to Gateshead) fell on consecutive hot weekends. The latter fell on the hottest day of the year. We experienced several miles of the tarmac melting beneath our feet with the resulting foot-damage making the last half marathon or so particularly painful. For Rachey, things didn't quite go to plan and she experienced her first DNF, bowing out heroically after 44 miles due to heat stress, leaving Mark and I to continue into the night. For me, it was a reminder that even my dialled-in footcare regime is not completely foolproof, as I experienced my first proper blisters in a very long time. A mental note was made to once again review my footcare systems ahead of heading into the desert. 2017 seems to have disappeared into the usual haze of marathons and ultra-distance events and I was shocked to find myself at the start of October and starting to pack my kitbag ready for the long-awaited trip. As something of a seasoned veteran of running events, I had most of the kit to hand already but had to purchase a new 'legionnaire-style' hat and opted to purchase lightweight twin-skin socks to see if they could help to deal with the heated-feet issue. With two weeks to go before departure, I started my heat acclimatization work... requiring some inventiveness in the cool of a British Autumn! With my road bike sat on a turbo trainer in my lounge at home, I built up to doing two hour sessions clothed in multiple layers, including a hoody with the hood up! I also took to heading into the steam room straight after my gym workouts and swim sessions and staying in there for up to half an hour, and in the last week I headed out for a run in several layers including a sauna suit. None of these sessions were particularly pleasant but they certainly felt like they were doing something!! These acclimatization sessions also helped me to confirm my high sweat rate (by weighing myself before and after and monitoring my intake). This was something I hadn't checked on for many years, but I knew that back in my faster marathon days, on hot days, I needed to ingest about 2 litres per hour to hold off a drop in performance due to dehydration. The weighing part of the process was almost redundant on my sweat-suited runs, as I could basically pour the sweat from out of my sleeves!!! Yes, it was pretty gross... and the weigh-ins confirmed a sweat rate of approximately 1 litre per half-hour. That was going to take some keeping on top of!! I have to admit to being pretty nonchalant about most of my events these days. Because I don't generally compete anymore (it's more about completion...), and I know that I'm generally okay up to about 100 miles/24 hours, I don't tend to get too nervous. This trait held true until about 24 hours before we were due to depart for Morocco!!! At that point, amidst a kid-at-Christmas excitement, I have to confess to having a little panic!!! I suddenly felt like I really hadn't done enough to prepare and that I had let my running slip too much over the preceding months (having focussed a lot on my cycling since July). Hey ho, too late by then... suck it up buttercup! The following 36 hours wizzed by in a blur of travelling... the 3 hour trip to Stansted, (meeting up with Alan, my friend from the Cotswold Way Challenge!) hanging around there ahead of the 3.5 hour flight to Marrakesh, then a 6 hour trip to Ourzazate, an overnight stop, and then another 1.5 hours to get to the start line! Not exactly a perfect pre-race build up and no time to acclimatize to the Moroccan heat but it was the same for all of us (we had mostly all travelled on 2 flights from the UK so had got to know one another pretty well by the time we stood at the start!) Heading away from the start line. Action Challenge had done a great job of putting together a temporary start area. We had a table of foods (mainly nuts and fruits) together with plentiful water and hot sweet Moroccan tea (a feature of most of the rest stops, and to become my new favourite thing!!!) There were also some temporary toilet facilities which were pretty impressive in view of the location! With only about 25 or 30 of us running (the rest of the group having gone out as walkers a couple of hours before), it was a fairly relaxed start line. A brief briefing, a short warm up, a countdown, and we were off! Although it was only 9.15am, it was already quite warm, (somewhere around 31 degrees C) and so we set off at a steady pace with no real idea of what lay ahead of us. So what was it like? Initially, we had the track on which to run, and trees to either side but it wasn't long before more engaging vistas opened up and we had views of the mountains and the Draa valley to distract us. The views open up ahead I have to be honest, the views were truly spectacular... and on Day 1, in particular, not what I was expecting! I will let the photos talk for themselves here, as description really doesn't work!! We saw quite a few skulls/carcasses along our way!! A reminder that the environment can be pretty harsh!! There were a few settlements along the way. The one uniting feature was the young children who would all run up to us begging (in Moroccan French) for pens. The Draa riverbed. The oasis otherwise known as our lunch stop! Using filters to bring out the contrasts between the plains, architecture and mountains... Blue paint on the stones indicates we are on the right track... with the track stretching seemingly endlessly ahead. The ridge of mountains was company for most of the day! So how was the running? I hear you ask. Well, the initial pace set by the lead group proved just a little brisk for us, so we settled into the back of the pack and found our own rhythm. Unfortunately, Rachey was finding the heat too challenging and decided early on to join into the back of the walking pack and hike it out, which she was able to do from the first checkpoint at about 6 miles in. That left Alan and I together working to our own pace. This wasn't a problem, as we had already established back at the Cotswolds that we were comfortable at one another's pace anyhow (or at least that's how I like to think of it, although I suspect Alan may choose to go a little quicker in my absence!) We didn't linger long at the first checkpoint, just taking time to deal with the bladders (water into the one one the back, water out of the internal one!!) and grab some fruit and nuts before pushing on. We had decided before we set out that we would try to mainly run (with walking breaks) for the first half of the day, and then dig in and grind out a fast paced walk once the heat got too much, and that is pretty much the plan we stuck to. By the time we came into the lunchtime stop it was getting pretty oppressively hot and we were glad to get into the shade, eat plentiful salad and drink copious amounts of sweet mint tea! I would guess that, by the time we had dealt with the bladders (both of them again!) and effected a sock change, we probably spent about 3/4 of an hour to an hour at lunch before heading off into the real heat of the day. This was where things got interesting! The weather gods had decided that the area hadn't yet had enough summer, and so offered up a brief blast of extra heat that coincided with our visit. Having been warned to prepare for temperatures in the 30s, we were suddenly faced with temperatures in the low to mid 40s! Thankfully, there was a very gentle but very welcome breeze otherwise it could have been completely unbearable! As had quickly become our way on the Cotswold Way, Alan and I once again helped one another through our inevitable low points, and watched each other for signs of problems such as dehydration, sunburn etc. We were both quite (happily) surprised by how well we were feeling and were brought back to reality with a bump when we came across two young men from the walking group who were sat in the shade but clearly in trouble from heat exhaustion, with the one lad completely unresponsive. We soaked his neck with cold water and managed to get him responding in short sentences before heading off up the road at pace to send some help. Thankfully, we didn't have to go more than a couple of hundred yards round the bend before coming across one of the support cars, who we were able to dispatch to him toute suite, but not before grabbing another 1.5 litres of water for our own consumption! By the time we came into the next rest stop at about 20 miles, we were very glad to see that the young man in question was lay recovering in the shade. Once again it was a shortish stop with a brief change of socks, re-application of sun cream to exposed areas, bladder, bladder and out! Just a 10km speed hike left to do! We ground on into the heat, slowly eating (or should that be drinking?) away at the miles. It wasn't very long after leaving the 20 mile rest stop that we could see a group of white dots on the horizon that we figured could very possibly be our camp for the night... how exciting!! It seemed to take forever to get any closer, however, and eventually disappeared from view completely leading us to think we must have been mistaken... or was it one of the mirages the deserts are famed for offering up? Eventually, a check of the distance on my watch confirmed that we couldn't be very far away at all, but no camp was in sight... but a small pink marker showed our route heading uphill... and at the top of that hill (how mean!!!!), hidden from view, lay our beautifully welcoming campsite!! We were half way! Day 1 complete!! Our incredible camp site Beautifully laid out tents, and stunning hand wash basins! Well organised communal areas with refreshing drinks and food at hand. What an incredible job Action Challenge had done on the site. Somehow, they had managed to erect all of our small tents in beautiful rows on really tough terrain and had already placed our kit bags into each of our pre-allocated tents. Food and drink was readily available including the now ubiquitous Moroccan tea and salads, but also cooled Coca-cola, Sprite, Fanta etc which was very welcome after consuming vast quantities of tepid water/hydration mix all day (Alan and I totted up our fluid consumption to approx 15 litres each during that first day's efforts!!) What was even more incredible was the shower facilities! Hidden in Berber tents at the back of the camp, I was shocked when I pulled aside the curtains to reveal a proper shower cubicle with a shower head that dispensed plentiful hot water!!! Mention must go to the latrines as well! Credit to the local team for keeping these pretty much tolerable for the majority of our time in camp... we will gloss over the slightly less ... err.. pleasant state that they were in by the time we left camp on Saturday morning! Unforgettable for all the wrong reasons!! Showered, and with fresh clothes on, we were able to relax and watch the fading light whilst welcoming in the rest of the joggers and trekkers before settling down for a three course dinner prepared by the local team. They even laid on some entertainment for us in terms of singing and dancing! With temperatures slightly cooler we were able to retire to our beds and get some much needed rest ahead of another early start for Day 2. Sunrise at camp An early start for the walkers! It was an early rise on Saturday for all on camp. The walkers were to set off before sunrise, with the runners/joggers an hour and a half later. We therefore had a steadier start to the day, rising in time to see off the walkers before tucking into our own breakfast and readying ourselves for the off, whilst the sun rose flooding the camp with light. Once again, it was a brief briefing and warm up and we were off en masse. With the first section on the flat and in the relative cool of early morning, Alan and I decided to stay with the pack for the first couple of miles. It was hard going! There was no discernible path and the ground was hard and strewn with sharp stones making it necessary to focus on every footfall. We once again established ourselves towards the back of the pack, a position with which we were perfectly happy! After a short while, I noticed that the lead group appeared to have formed a huddle and weren't moving. I considered the fact that I hadn't seen a marker flag or paint mark for some time... and checked with Alan. Neither had he... we soon caught the lead group and established that we did appear to have come off course! Great! That's what happens when you go with the group and stop thinking for yourself!! Never mind!! A review of the map and terrain ahead of us soon established where we needed to head for and we were able to intersect the actual route and rejoin it! Excitement over for now, Alan and I settled back into our rightful place in the pack and it wasn't long before we were passing the first of the back-markers from the trekkers. The day felt a lot cooler and more tolerable than Day 1, although there were only a couple of degrees difference - perhaps we were acclimatizing? I certainly didn't feel as if I was sweating as much... Onwards we pressed, through changing landscapes. Lots of stone desert, giving way to occasional settlements and palmerias, more distant mountains, sandier ground, then weird dried-out flood plains that cracked like crockery beneath our feet... Signs of life, both human and plant... This crazy-paving style landscape was loose and the inch think 'plates' cracked beneath our feet! The whole of day 2 pretty much settled into a blur of jogging and then power walking, dealing with the ins/outs of the bladders, eating, chatting... and getting slightly lost again!!! This time, the local children had taken a liking to the little pink flags which had been used to mark out our route and had made off with several of them!! It took Alan, myself and Mahmut (pictured below) about 15 to 20 minutes of concentrated searching to locate the route and continue on our way, during which time Alan managed to find a not-completely-dried-up riverbed and decided to take an impromptu mud-bath!!! (well, okay, he went base over apex into the mud anyway!!!) Like a cat licking its paws to pass a long journey, Alan was then able to pick at the quickly drying full body mud pack to pass time to the finish!!! Mahmut following the tracked sand towards the finish once we were back en route! Once we were back on track, it was only a relatively short distance across the flat sands before heading into the dunes and on towards the finish. Into the sand dunes (the tiny pink flag showing the route) And the finish line comes into sight (note Alan's slightly muddy appearance!!) The finish line was set up at Zagora Desert Camp where there were a few structures for us to shade under, and both lager and soft drinks cooling in trugs of water which were very welcome. We were allowed to linger as long as we wanted before being mini-bused back to civilisation and our hotel for the brief night stop ahead of our long transfer back to Marrakesh. We stayed long enough to see Rachey finish and then the 3 of us headed for the minibus. The medal photographed in a finish area like no other! Finish Line hugs (on Alan's non-muddy side!!!) :-D The night stop led to another early morning start and back on the mini-busses for a very long return to Marrakesh. We somehow managed to lose 3 and a half hours to a game of eye spy, which helped the miles to pass!!! Arriving in Marrakesh with a couple of hours to spare before the celebration dinner saw Alan and I dashing off to take in the sights of the souks. What an experience that was too... and for me it served to double the confusion in my brain as to where I had been and what I had been doing for the past 5 days. It was an incredible challenge physically (for me chiefly because of the heat rather than the distance), but it was far more than that. The insight it gave me into the diverse landscapes and culture of Morocco will stay with me forever. Sahara, it was a joy to have met you!
Apologies for what appears to have been a somewhat protracted gap in communications! Mad Ultra Mummy has been really really busy walking the walk, and has had to cut back on talking the talk. Do not fear, however, as I am now at the end of what has been a totally crazy season, so my time for scribing has been freed!
Where were we? I think I left you at the beginning of June didn't I? Oh heck, so here's a brief resume of what occurred between then and this last weekend...
Well... I knew May was going to be an epic month but I hadn't quite expected what I got!!! What a month!!! There are certain people in my life who have gone to make it an especially good month and to whom I am extremely grateful! Thank you all!!! First event of the month, and our first big challenge event of the year, was RatRace's Dirty Weekend. Whilst it sounds like something that may threaten (or maybe spice up!!) my marriage, the dirtiness of this weekend was purely of a muddy nature. 20 miles of running interspersed with more than 200 obstacles made for a truly epic day out. The weather was cool with a brisk breeze and a threat of rain so not ideal for a long run interspersed with regular water submersions and I have to say that despite some of the challenges out on the course being quite huge, the weather and cold was probably up there as one of the toughest! We were fine whilst we were moving but if we had to wait in a queue for an obstacle, we were quickly shivering and cramping it. Nonetheless it was an amazing day out and one we all plan to repeat next year. I was pleased to be able to manage the big water jump (from about 2-3 stories high, into a plunge pool) - although I confess it took me a couple of attempts before I plucked up the courage to go through with it!!! I was also pleased to manage all of the climbing obstacles but confess to being utterly rubbish when it came to the hanging ones!!! I will try harder next year, I promise!!! My sincerest thanks go to Rachel and Mark once again for their fabulous company throughout the weekend. It was definitely a weekend of highs and lows, in many ways, but one that left me buzzing for days afterwards, and feeling so grateful for my friends. Next on the agenda was my only scheduled 24 hour race of the year: The Hope 24. This was the race that almost broke me 12 months ago and I was aiming to go back to level the score. The Hope had other ideas!!! Once again the weather proved our undoing. The race started well in mixed sunshine and cloud but rain was forecast to come in at about 4pm, which it duly did... in torrents!!! The weather was so bad that full waterproofs were called into action but the course was becoming extremely slippery and, at about 10pm, the Race Director eventually made the very hard but totally sensible decision to suspend the action until the weather improved. The race eventually restarted just before dawn once the course had been inspected but I had a sore foot from having to switch to my harder soled off-road shoes (for more grip) and had lost my desire to push on by then, with no chance of smashing out high miles. I finally withdrew from the race after 60 miles. It was still a good run after a hard run the previous weekend at Dirty Weekend, so I wasn't unhappy with my performance,,, I will just have to return in a couple of years to have another crack at it!
In the week that followed, things got really interesting however!!! I have previously always shied away from triathlon because I am not a keen swimmer, but have always harboured a desire to go and complete an Ironman Triathlon (yeah I know, I'm a glutton for punishment!). At the beginning of the month, in conflab with one of my clients who had also become a good friend, I had found out that she also wanted to have a go at becoming an Ironman. For those that don't know, that involves a 2.4 mile open water swim, a 112 mile bike ride and a Marathon length run to finish... with a 16/17 hour cut off time (course dependent). Sometimes, it only takes a small spark to light the inferno... Lucy kindly suggested that she would get me round the swim, if I got her round the run, and we could train together for the bike and all would be good! Whilst I would normally shy away from trusting someone else to train me (yeah, I'm a control freak!!!) Lucy has a background in competitive swimming as a junior, has done quite a bit of open water swimming, and is a qualified life guard so I felt in very safe hands... so I went off and did a bit of web-browsing and confirmed dates etc... and suggested that we aim for Ironman Wales in September 2018. It's a bit of a tough course (see my last blog post about the Pendine Ultra - this takes place on the same terrain, starting and finishing just up the road!!) but it's in a beautiful location and with brilliant crowd support Being as bonkers as me, Lucy said yes straight away!!! So we were now officially (quietly) in training for our first Ironman!! Having watched me swim in the pool on the Tuesday after the Hope, Lucy kindly affirmed that although my swimming was ludicrously slow (yes, she did laugh!!!) it wasn't too bad technique-wise and so, fired by this knowledge, I was (just about) confident enough to go for my first open water swim!!! So the following Saturday saw me wetsuit clad, wading into the lake up at Top Barn and cautiously (okay... I was near bloody petrified!!!) completing a single 750m lap. But hey, it was a start. I was completely outside of my comfort zone but felt marvellous afterwards, The Sunday then saw me pacing Lucy round the Worcester Marathon (hilly critter that one!!!), so we both felt that we achieved something that weekend in terms of getting ourselves started on our Ironman journey. Thank you Lucy for putting a toe up my backside for me to take the plunge on this challenge! At the end of May, Ian, Ellie and I flew off to Corfu for a family holiday (which was marvellous by the way, and involved me getting out into the sea each day to get some decent swimming in!!!). Whilst out there, Ian and I celebrated 31 years together. Thank you Mr Wall for your unending tolerance and patience with your crazy mad-head of a wife... without you I could not do this stuff. (Photo courtesy of Ultra Running Ltd) The first inter-school contest I can recall taking part in was between my infant school and a couple of other infant schools in the locality. We travelled to the school holding the contest in a bus. It was very exciting to my 6 year old self. The contest was basically a junior sports contest, and I was chosen to represent my school in the sack race. I was always good at the sack race... this was going to be great... ... ... except when the horn went off for the race to start, I couldn't get my sack open. The rest of the field (all 3 of them!!) shot off up the course whilst I frantically tried to open my chunk of stubborn hessian. They had about 20 feet of lead on me by the time I sorted myself out. I came last. Despite my total lack of natural ability, and my insistence on pitting myself against bizarrely tough challenges, I can't ever recall coming last in a race again. Until last Sunday. Beyond the position at the back of the field, however, the two experiences could not have been more different. Last Sunday, you see, saw me accompanying my friends and fellow Ratracers, Mark and Rachel, around the Pendine Sands Ultra Race. It's a corker of a race (more detail to follow) run by Ultra Running Ltd taking in Pendine sands, Laugharne, and the hills a little way inland. It was to be Mark and Rachel's first official continuously run ultra-distance event. The furthest they had each previously run was broken down into 5 mile laps which they were completing as part of a 3 man relay team ina 24 hour race. Rachel had previously run marathon distance with me last April, but Mark's longest continuous run was around the 12 miles!!! It was time to step up to the plate and run a 'real' ultra. We hadn't planned this run into the schedule, it just kid-of felt like a good idea about a month or so ago! Consequently, we hadn't actually planned our training around it and knew we were going to get our backsides kicked at some point in the run. It didn't disappoint. The weather was almost perfect running conditions, with the exception of a headwind across the top road section. It was overcast, not too warm or too cool. Race start was at 9.30am. The Ultra sported a small field of a couple of dozen runners, but our numbers were boosted to begin with by more sensible folks opting for the half marathon and 10km races. Our run started along the beach. For the Ultra and half marathon option, we had 10km of beach to start us off (the half marathon then turned round and went back again, whereas we turned away from the beach to head inland). We had no delusions of grandeur, and kept ourselves towards the back of the pack, soon settling in behind the rest of the Ultra runners. It was when we headed inland that we made our only error of the day - we missed the turn-off and managed to detour inland, eventually opting to retrace our steps with an extra couple of bonus miles run. Damn! But never mind, eh... what's a couple of miles extra!!! We had kept a reasonable pace going along the firm sand up to this point but with the route starting to climb and take in slightly rougher terrain, this is where our pace dropped a little. Through the woods to Laugharne, then heading uphill on quiet country lanes for almost 4 miles of steady climbing, and a further 2-ish miles of downhill pounding before hitting the coast once more, climbing up over the headland and back onto Pendine Sands. First lap complete... another (slightly shorter) one to go!!! Oooh... I think this is the tough thing about this race - having to do it all over again (less the navigational cock-up!). That six miles of beach seemed to go on for ever and ever!!! And then we had the uphill section! We were so glad to hit the top of the hill and head down towards the beach again until the downhill pounding started to take a toll on our quads! Up over the headland once more, onto the beach and all finished in a little over 7 and a half hours. Medals round necks, food and drink... and loads of smiles! A huge thank you to Steve Worrallo, Henry and Ultra Running Ltd's team on the day, and a huge huge WELL DONE to Mark and Rachel who dug in and got it done it true style. Very definitely Ultra-Runners now!!! We stayed in the area for the whole of Easter weekend through to Tuesday and thoroughly enjoyed our visit. If you haven't visited Carmarthenshire then I can strongly recommend it! (Maybe for Easter next year, taking in one of the races? You know you want to!) So Spring appears to have finally sprung! After a few fine sunny days, I am now sporting my first tan lines of the year! It won't be long before I am well and truly criss-crossed with them!!!
What have I been up to since my last post? Well, The Mighty Deerstalker for starters! I am really not entirely sure what to make of this event. It was certainly a fun weekend away but I really didn't think the run itself lived up to all the hype. To be honest, it just felt like a glorified fell race with a few river wades and token obstacles thrown in. I had expected it to be more, to be tougher, to challenge me in some way. It ended up being a bigger test of endurance queuing up for food on the Saturday night!!! Would I do it again? Maybe, as a social event, possibly - it makes a good weekend away with a posse... but I won't be immediately adding it to next year's schedule. Last week saw a few of us head to The Obstacle Gym at Lutterworth for a few hours of OCR training. We were blessed with a glorious day and spent 4 happy hours pushing ourselves around the physical and mental challenges on the course. It's a cracking day out for a group of friends/family. Beware however, we all came away covered in bruises and we all ached (a LOT!!) for several days afterwards!!! It was good to get some proper, hand-on, guidance on approaching certain obstacles and start to build confidence ahead of the Dirty Weekend at the start of May. Before we get to the Dirty Weekend, however, Rachel, Mark and I have slotted in an extra event on Easter Sunday - The Pendine Ultra - 32 miles around Pendine and Laugharne including 12 miles running along Pendine Sands. I'm not sure quite what to expect from myself on this one as the route profile looks rather, err... interesting. Race report to follow soon after the event... Hope you are enjoying the better weather. Have a great Easter! With one month of the year down, it's about time I reported back on what is going on in the Mad Ultra-Mummy's life. January can be a pretty busy month workwise, and generally leads into a hectic February. This year, although January has been a tad quieter than normal, February looks set to be its usual busy self, so I am bracing myself for some long workdays and planning ahead to shoe-horn my training in where I can. January's training has comprised of daily short runs, mostly between 3 and 8 miles, in an attempt to maintain my fitness whilst recovering a little bit of my long lost speed. Nothing too focussed, as I felt I still needed a mental break after what the end of 2016 threw at me, but short runs, with the odd sharp-paced one thrown in. It seems to have worked, with my average paces looking far more respectable than they did during 2016, and with my running VO2 Max (a measure of my oxygen uptake) back up into the 50s for the first time in a good few years. Alongside the daily runs, on a weekly basis I have been fitting in a couple of spin classes (for a balance of training in the legs, and additional cardio benefits) and at least one upper body and core training session to start to build the foundations of an obstacle-racers body! I can't quite believe that we are only five weeks away from the first challenge run of the year – The Mighty Deerstalker - a night time adventure race in Scotland! By way of a warm-up, we ran the Stourbridge Stagger today. It's a roughly ten mile (actually closer to 9.5 today) hilly, muddy mainly off-road run that is a staple part of Ian's and my annual running schedule and today we ran it with Mark and Rachey respectively giving them their first proper taste of trail running. We all had a good run with the boys finishing at a blistering pace and the girls giving a pretty good show of themselves. It felt great to be back out there 'doing my stuff'. Physically, it certainly feels like 2017 has started the right way. All the foundations are going in well and the body shows no signs of malaise (keeping everything crossed as I type!!!) . Mentally, I think I am starting to climb out of the trough but still don't feel able to extend my engagement to a larger circle of people beyond my nearest and dearest. I am fortunate that all of my clientele are a fabulous bunch of folks who are a joy to work with and so I don't struggle during my workday but the whole social media thing is still eluding me. So I remain apologetic to anyone who expects me to interact with them via Facebook etc... it's just not my thing right now... sorry. If you feel able to sponsor me for this year's crazy challenges, I am fundraising for The Alzheimer's Society. Both them and I would really appreciate any support and encouragement you can give. There is a fundraising button to the right of my Blog page! Thanks. Apologies that it has once again been a little while since my last post. For personal reasons, I have needed to take a break away from the whole social media thing. You see, if the truth is to be told, 2016 left me feeling somewhat broken. Hopefully, I am now back in the flow and can keep the posts coming into 2017.
With 2016 now in the bag, it is time for a little reflection on the year as a whole. Time to pull together the take-away lessons from the year, and give it a balanced review. Can a year have a 'personality'? If so, is it then possible for it to have a personality disorder, or even a mental illness? Because, looking back, 2016 seemed a little unhinged... possibly psychotic... or maybe in need of a little medication? You see, on the running front it has been a real humdinger of a year. I set out with the intention of running 2016 miles for the year and taking in 16 runs of marathon distance and beyond. Mission accomplished on all fronts there. The 2016 miles were all done by 13th December, and all the runs were in the bag by mid-September! Along the way, I forged some fabulous new and interesting friendships, moved on from a friendship or two, learned a few lessons regarding my training and racing, came close to breaking myself on one occasion, broke myself (or at least the odd metatarsal or two) on one occasion, and developed an interest in obstacle course racing which has set the agenda for 2017! Not really a bad year by all accounts. But then, personally, it has been a really tough year. My father's health had started to deteriorate back in 2015 and we feared that maybe he had another cancer (he had had bladder cancer for 20 years or so, but that was managed well and we had always been told that he was likely to die with it, not from it). He was then diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis. (PF) This wasn't a disease we knew anything about as a family but the long and short of it was that his lungs gradually stopped absorbing oxygen. There is currently no 'treatment' or cure for PF – just palliative care, and the prognosis is poor at best. We couldn't help feeling that a Big C diagnosis may have been an easier option! He became less and less able to do day-to-day things, eventually requiring supplementary oxygen, first for when he was active, and then even at rest. My dear Mum became his 24-hour-a-day carer. Over this summer and autumn, we watched as he slowly withdrew from us, and became disinterested in life, getting physically weaker by the day and week. He was eventually taken from us on 22nd November and his funeral was on 12th December. Throughout Dad's illness, as through so many other difficult times, running was a constant companion. I found the escape of grinding out the daily miles comforting, giving me time to reflect and clear my head. I could rage at the world, shed the odd tear, run through conversations in my head and come home a little calmer. Another of those great things running has given me is a couple of truly fabulous close friendships. Whilst many friends really weren't sure how to relate to me during Dad's illness and subsequent to his death, a couple of my (running) friends have truly been a source of particular comfort. Having both experienced similar losses, they were both perfectly poised on the sidelines, ready to hold my broken pieces whilst I floundered. Neither of them tried to 'fix' me, or offered me bare platitudes, they were just solidly 'there' when I needed them. I am truly, truly grateful for their friendship and support and will be forever in their debt for their kindness. I am afraid that all other friendships have very much been put on the back boiler. My sincere apologies to those affected. I simply haven't got the spare emotional energy to support anyone else right now. Hopefully, in time, I will be able to get back out there again and reconnect with those patient enough to wait for me to heal a little. My relationship with social media has also rather suffered during this time. Facing the certain and imminent death of a loved one certainly helps to put things into perspective and as the year progressed, I started to find a lot of my friends and connections' social media posts somewhat shallow and banale. Truth to be told, they were probably no different to normal, and the same kind of posts I myself would normally put up, but I just couldn't deal with them any more. I stepped away from regularly checking my feed, and even unfollowed some friends whose posts were particularly troubling me (although I am sure this was probably my issue, not anything to do with said friends and their posts at all). Following Dad's death, with 2016 rounding out with the loss of a few more celebrity names, Facebook in particular was awash with public cries of sorrow and sadness at the loss of these stars. Surely, I cannot be the only one who has suffered a personal loss in 2016 to feel ... what exactly...? Anger, I guess, at people's outpourings of 'sorrow' at the death of a star who they did not personally know and whose death would not actually affect their day-to-day lives at all. I guess I never have been a subscriber to the whole Hello! Magazine culture and maybe that is part of the problem...? Whatever the cause, it has left me with a somewhat tainted relationship with Facebook in particular. My decision going forward is that I will no longer regularly check my feed and will be taking a break from actively posting on my wall. These blog posts will continue to appear on my feed, but that may be as much as Facebook gets from me for a while, at least until my head is perhaps in a better place. All this said, I am truly looking forward to 2017. In terms of what I have already got planned, it looks set to be a truly epic year. As an added bonus, I have some fabulous company for every event this year, so I am in no way going it alone. Bring it on and let the healing commence! When I was a child, we didn't have the internet at our disposal (yes, I am THAT old!!!). Thank God! The pre-teen and teen years contained enough angst as it was without having to worry about how many cyber-friends we had accumulated, or who had or hadn't liked our latest Facebook post.
Back then, if we weren't seeing friends every day, we either drifted apart or stayed in touch via the telephone or snail mail. Pen pals were a big thing, and there was always that moment of excitement when the latest letter dropped through the door. The letters were always lovingly written, giving great details of what had gone on in the writer's life since the last correspondence. It was a private missive, full of personal details, and showed a degree of care for the person receiving the letter. I recall that I would sometimes take several days compiling my 3 or 4 page letters to my pen pal. It was quite an act of dedication for an 8 to 10 yr old! When I was a child, up high on my bedroom wall was a small picture frame. The picture was of a small sailing boat in a sunset. But the picture wasn't the focus of the frame. There were words on that picture. Somebody cares... Somebody cares what a world of woe Lifts from our hearts when we really do know That somebody really and truly cares And that we are in somebody's thoughts and prayers And I want you to know And I feel that you do That somebody always is caring for you. Despite being all grown up with a child of my own now, I still remember those words. Caring... There is no greater wealth than the love and care of those who support us. And yet it seems to be a concept that is almost getting lost in the cyber-world that most of us now inhabit. It is all too easy to press 'like' on a Facebook post, and to tell all and sundry what we are up to on a day-to-day basis, without even breaking the stride of our day-to-day lives. Instead of increasing the opportunities to connect and make a difference in people's lives, the world of 'social networking' has almost disconnected us. If we allow it to, it has far more ability to strip us of our confidence, and remove our social interactions, than it does of building us up and reinforcing our support networks. When I was a child, my favourite holiday-time television programme was a show called 'Why Don't You...?'. Its theme tune sang something along the lines of: Why don't you...? Why don't you...? Why don't you... just switch off your television set and go out and do something less boring instead? So my friends, my challenge for you today is for you to make a special effort to switch off the 'television set' ... or computer, laptop, tablet, phone etc. Go out and connect with someone you maybe haven't connected with for a while. Show someone you care. Drop them a text, write them a personal email, compose a snail-mail, call them up on the telephone, meet them for coffee, give them a hug, reach out and touch someone's arm... Be human! You never know what a difference it can make to someone. It may enrich a good day, brighten a sad day, or be the glimmer of light at the end of a very long tunnel for someone. Go on... spread that wealth! My dear, long-suffering hubby and I have now been together for over 30 years, and married for more than 22 of them. Like most long-term relationships, we have had our ups and downs over the years, but have always stuck solidly together.
In the early days we bonded over our love of rock music and motorcycles - shared interests that drew us together and gave us 'stuff' to do together (beyond the ... ahem... obvious!!!). As the years went by, we discovered a love of the great outdoors, of hiking and climbing, kayaking, skiing, snowboarding, cycling and eventually running. With each new interest came a burst of new-found joy in our relationship... it refreshed things, if you like, gave us new things to do together. When we eventually got round to having our daughter, the love of these things were shared with her and once again we got to enjoy them all anew, through the fresh eyes of a new human being. I confess there are times when I could readily throttle Mr Wall, but I still love the very bones of him and long may that remain. My relationship with running has, in many ways, followed a path similar to that of a successful relationship. We first met at school, where we flirted with one another on and off for a few years before finally drifting apartf after the last exams were sat and life beyond the school gates beckoned. We saw one another as casual friends on a few occasions in the decade that followed with just the odd run for pleasure in that time. Towards the end of my twenties, I started to see running's attraction in a different way, and took our relationship somewhat more seriously. A few road races made their way into my agenda, and a few more, until by my early thirties we were pretty much going steady - a spring and autumn marathon, with 10ks, 10 milers, half marathons and 20 milers strategically placed throughout the year. It was a high-maintenance relationship demanding treading a thin line between peak performance and injury/burn-out - more than a couple of weeks away being repaid with stoney glances and 'serves-you-rights' from the scorning 'partner'. For the first half-decade or so of our relationship, interest was maintained by the variety of road races on offer and the desire to better my pace at all distances. For the last few years, interest has been injected and supplanted by a change to ultra-running, trail-racing and (latterly) obstacle course racing, adventure racing and running as a family. This is, to me, the key to me staying engaged with the sport that I continue to love more than 14 years into our serious relationship. Like any other good long-term relationship, life these days is so much more settled than those early days. Sure, we still have days when we hate one another, days when we want nothing to do with one another, even days when the time spent together would probably have been better spent apart, but these are surpassed by the comfort and familiarity that the relationship holds, and the joys that it brings. Deep down I know that it is always worth putting the effort into sustaining the relationship. I try not to resent the times when my runs are not so positive and dwell, instead, on all of the positives that running brings me: the 'me time', the health benefits, the weight control, the mental health pluses, the running friends (who are the best type of friends ever!!), the drive for self-betterment... the list goes on. Not to forget those very rare days (or nights) when I actually get to run with my husband. In my running, as with the the rest of my life these days, I find that when things go less than smoothly, it pays to have faith that it will all work out in the long run... Happy running my friends... Sometimes things come to you broadside ... no warning... just BAM! and there they are. Some such things are not so great ... an injury, a lost friendship, a family illness. The last year has brought a few of these to me and I am sure to most other people the world over. I am forever grateful that, in comparison to most, our lows are still pretty darned high. But still, I am always thankful for days that just feel 'right'.
Today was a good 'BAM!' moment: Pretty much out of the blue, connecting with a friend I had known for a while and heading out for a run together. We ran a bit, walked a lot (it was hilly and muddy!!! honest!!!), and soon lost 10+ miles together just rattling about nothing in particular. Despite having met through running, we had never run together before, and yet our pace matched just-so. No stress about 'shall we walk a bit?', or pressure to push on, just two friends connecting through running. On our return to the vehicles, we met back up with Ian and Ellie who had been out having their own adventure walking the hills, climbing trees and other such golden Daddy/Daughter stuff. After ice-creams, coffees etc. we bid our farewells to my 'new' running buddy and had ourselves a picnic in the carpark before heading home. After a nice hot bath, I donned my favourite fluffy robe and settled in for a thoroughly chilled afternoon/evening. Today's run wasn't particularly quick, nor particularly long, but it is definitely one that will stay in my memory for a long time. A treasured moment. It's the simple stuff that can so often realign us. Today has recharged my batteries in a way that simply doing nothing could not: The perfect combination of companionship, time in nature, and chilling with loved ones. And that my friends is another reason why I run... you never know when one of those golden days is going to pop out of nowhere... and reboot the system. Happy running... :-) The time has come to let you know exactly how crazy 2017 is going to be. I am thinking that it may be the last of my 'BIG' challenge years, with subsequent years returning to focussing on one or two key events, so I figure I may as well make it totally epic!!!
I have always steered clear of serious obstacle races because of the risk of injury but 2017 sees me step up to the challenge of not one, but a whole season of them! My upper body strength is pretty abysmal so Winter will see me putting in some fairly tough training to get myself up to a standard that is less embarrassing by the Spring. Warm up races aside, the season will start in earnest on 11th March with Ratrace's The Mighty Deerstalker. Billed as the UK's biggest night race, this looks set to be a tough cookie as it is set in Scotland... in March ... at night!!! It will involve woodlands, mountains, scree slopes, river wades and more... all by the light of our headtorches. Wish me luck!!! I will then have a short break before the summer season kicks off in May with Ratrace's Dirty Weekend. This truly is a humdinger of a run - 20 miles scattered with 200+ obstacles. I have got to get my obstacle racing sorted ready for this!!! And then I need to make a swift recovery as the following weekend sees my return to the fantastic Hope 24, for 24 hours of battling with Plympton's hills and woodland. June will see the family return to Ratrace's Runstock, the epic 8 hour event we all took part in in 2016 and are so looking forward to already. Then once again a quick recovery will be needed as the following week I take on the 69 miles of Hadrian's Wall in Ratrace's The Wall. July will see me running a marathon with a difference in the Lake District in Rat Race's Man v Lakes - this marathon will see us getting our feet/legs wet start to finish and doesn't look to be for the faint-hearted! And then we make a jaunt to London for Ratrace's Survival of the Fittest - a 10km obstacle course around Wembley Stadium with a Gladiator's-style travellator finish! August will mostly be spent recovering and re-grouping before heading to Snowdonia in September for Ratrace's Man v Mountain. This race see us running from Caernarfon to Snowdon, then up over the mountain and finishing getting rather wet in Dinorwic's slate quarry lakes! And then another go at Survival of the Fittest, this time in Cardiff... before what will hopefully be my final run of the season - in mid-October - 2 marathons in 2 days in the Sahara Desert. It looks set to be an amazing season. And I won't be alone! Along with my usual side-kicks of Ian and Ellie who form the most amazing support crew when they aren't taking part in their own event, I am being joined by a few other friends along the way and, incredibly, by one friend for the entire season! I am sure there are going to be a lot of tears alongside the cheers all the way. Watch this space!! :-) It's results week for all of those who applied for a place to run the London Marathon through the online Ballot. Oh, the emotions! I remember the huge sinking feeling of my first Ballot rejection back in 2002 and the repeated dejection of subsequent 'No' magazines arriving on our doormat. I feel the pain of all those people who have hung their hopes on running THE marathon, only to find it is not to be for at least another year.
I have watched my Facebook newsfeed fill with whoops of joy or cries of disappointment depending on the nature of the magazine (or email) that people have received. The online running forums to which I subscribe have talked of little else all week. That is understandable... it's a big thing for a lot of people. What I do not find so understandable though is the vitriol with which some folks have criticised the London organisation. Yes, I guess that it can just be sour grapes... and it can just feel plain unfair (stamps foot like a spoilt 3 year old). I have been there and felt that too. But I think that perhaps we have to just put a different perspective on things... London was once just a big city marathon with a small field. The field grew substantially over the years and so did the international attraction. Alongside Tokyo, Boston, Berlin, Chicago and New York (and the IAAF World Championships and Olympic Games), it now forms one of the World Marathon Majors Series. It is a top international event, attracting the top international names in the sport of marathon running. It is akin to being on the PGA World Tour in Golf, or on the Formula One Racing Circuit, or any other world series... As an also-ran weekend cyclist, I would never anticipate getting a place on the Tour de France, yet a marathon runner (or even someone who has not run a step yet in their lives) can apply for a place (lets call in a 'wild card', as that is what it really is) to run in one of the world series events through a ballot. What an honour! Personally, I think that London deals with its kaleidoscope of roles very well. First and foremost, places go to those international stars out a the front of the field. Then places go the the 'Elites'. Most of these guys and gals are running spectacular times, sometimes only marginally behind the international stars, whilst still holding down day jobs and family commitments. They get to start with the Elite field, and rightly so. They have the potential to make a name for themselves and possibly get picked up for national or international competitions. These are serious runners! As are the next group of individuals to get a 'guaranteed' place at London - the Good For Age (GFA) places. The GFA criteria are lower than the Elite but those who attain them are still performing in the top percentages amongst marathon runners. The times set are similar to those required to get a Boston qualifying (BQ) time. For most runners, attaining a GFA time (or a BQ) takes commitment to the sport, and I think it is only right that such committed runners earn their places on the start line. How about other committed runners who perhaps can't quite make the GFA cut? Well, all recognised running clubs across the UK receive an allocation of places relative to their membership. Most hold their own ballot, open to their own members who were rejected in the main ballot thus allowing the committed club runner another option to get in. Everyone else basically needs to apply for a wild card (AKA entering the Ballot). Yes, it's a slim chance but even if you don't get in, you do have the chance to run for a charity if you really want that place. And yes, I agree, the charity fundraising targets are huge and onerous but that is purely a case of supply and demand. Should there be so many charity places at London? That is a difficult one, but London is a truly special event with its crazy mixed field and the charity runners play a huge part in that. It works... and it raises colossal amounts for charity each year so I think the balance is actually right. I got my first (and, to date, only) Ballot place in 2009. I was pregnant when the 'Yes' magazine dropped on my doormat. Talk about the law of Sod! Thankfully, London allow you to defer your place for a year so I first got the chance to run London in 2010. By then I had run 4 or 5 other marathons. I had got my time down to within 16 minutes of a GFA qualifier. I'd have probably got my GFA place within the next year or two. However, the thrill of finally running THAT marathon (together with months of hard training pushing my daughter in a buggy!) got me within a GFA qualifying time, thus securing my place to run again the next year. I was honoured to run that first year but felt that I had definitely earned my place in the following years. Nowadays, I haven't run fast for some years. My last sub-4 hour marathon was in 2013 and my current GFA target is 3:50. Simply put, I don't want to run London that desperately right now that I am willing to put myself through the rigorous training schedule required to get my times down to run a qualifying marathon. Did I apply in the Ballot? You bet! But I wasn't surprised, or even that disappointed when my 'No' email arrived yesterday. There are plenty of other runs out there that I want to tick off my bucket list. So come on people, get some perspective on this! It's not the only marathon out there. It's not even the only big city Spring marathon out there (Paris anyone?). Yes, it's worth doing... but it can be so much sweeter doing it when you have fought for it... served your time in endless applications year after year, put in the hard training to get a qualifying time, put in the effort to make the fundraising total etc. It's true that we don't always get what we wish for... but we can get what we work for. Go work for it! :-) It is a little known fact that running spurs creativity... well, it does for me anyway! Given a good run, once I've found my rhythm, I can compose my blog posts in my head, and even pen the odd poem. More often than not, these poems get discarded once I get home. They have served their purpose, kept my brain occupied over the course of the miles. But sometimes there is a 'keeper' - one that I will try to commit to the page upon my return.
Last Sunday was a glorious day for a run. The sun was shining, the light was clear with a warm hue that only Autumn seems to produce, the leaves were just turning colour. I had a gorgeous 8 mile run along the canal thinking of nothing in particular, but by the time I got home, the following poem was keeping me company and seemed deserving of salvation... Hope you like it! Just Me I am fire and ice. I am chalk and cheese. I'm a roaring gale and a soft summer breeze. Between a babbling brook and a river in spate, I am no one special and nothing great. I am full of compassion. I am loyal and true. I'm a faithful friend to the trusted few. I won't pander to ego, don't tolerate lies. Do not try to fool me, I can see it in your eyes. I am quiet in the corner, meek and mild. I am loud and brash... a real wild child. I am a rainbow of colours, shining bright. I am dull and grey, like the fading light. I am black and I am white, like the words on a page. I am redder than blood in a seething rage. I'm a shrinking violet and a drama queen. I am all of this. .. and everything between. Whether age old friends or we've just met I'm just the same...what you see is what you get. I am brutally honest, straight and true With a spicy dash of daring do. I am power and strength, a woman of steel. I mean what I say and I say what I feel Impotent and weak, I shrink from the crowd. But check me again, and I'm standing proud. I am juxtaposed, the yang and the yin. I cannot explain... don't know how to begin. I do what I say and say what I do. If I take on a task, I will see it through. So take a good look...What you get is what you see For above all else, I am just me. (Luan Wall, October 2016) It was back in March 2014 when I first made a foray into the world of endurance racing beyond single marathons. The previous Autumn, after making the decision to 'give up marathon running', I had made the impulsive decision to sign up for VoTwo's Jurassic Coast Challenge - three days of running roughly marathon distance each day along the dramatic Dorset coast from Charmouth to Studland Bay. Lord only knows why I suddenly thought it seemed like a good idea, and I certainly didn't know the incredible impact it would have on my future running but that is sometimes the way fate chisels our path... With the enormity of the challenge that I had set myself, I knew that I was going to have to push my training to whole new levels through the winter of 2013/14. I researched as much as I could about the sort of training needed for an event of this type and set about creating a new, harder, tougher, off-road-running me. The winter was spectacular in its ferocity, with weeks of seriously icy and windy and wet weather through which I pushed myself out of the door for back-to-back-to-back mid-week runs, long runs, and long, muddy hill repeats of up to 20 miles at a time. By the time I set off for Dorset, I knew I was the strongest I had ever been at that time of the year and hoped it would be enough to see me through. When I got to the pre-race briefing on day 1, however, my confidence melted. Looking around me, I could see more than a hundred individuals, each of them with the look of seasoned ultra-runners. They had all of the right kit, and it looked like it had all been used in anger a few times at least... unlike most of my kit which had been used only on a couple of training runs before that first fearful day. I was petrified. What on earth was I doing here? I certainly didn't belong amongst the ranks of wiry racers by whom I seemed to be surrounded. This was a totally new feeling for me. As a road runner, I always knew my pace, and my place within the group. With personal bests of 44 minutes for 10km and 3 hours 44 mins for marathon, I was comfortably mid-pack and positioned myself accordingly at the start of races. I would generally start about one third of the way back in the pack, and finish about one third of the way down the results. As such, I was always surrounded by runners of my own ability/experience. With the exception of my first ever (looped) road marathon, I had never been challenged by checkpoint cut-offs, or the risk of not actually finishing what I had started. Bundled into the race minibus that first day in Dorset, heading to the start, my nerves didn't diminish. With absolutely nothing to compare my pace with, I was seriously doubting my ability to hit each of the days checkpoint cut-off times. In the back of my mind, I was also hoping that I wouldn't get left behind as I wasn't confident in my navigational skills either (although for the most part, it just involved keeping the sea on my right!!). Too much uncertainty! I really needn't have worried. I was certainly behind the first third of the runners that day, but I wasn't at the back, and I didn't get left behind. My legs ached by the end of it, but I think my facial muscles probably ached more, from all the smiles I had had along the way. I truly loved the feeling of being out there in some of the best scenery the UK can offer... I was hooked already! By the start of day 2, my confidence was a little higher, although I was now into the totally unknown territory of back-to-back marathons, with the second day being tougher, and actually a couple of miles longer than marathon distance. I didn't feel too stiff or sore, however, and despite the tough terrain of the previous day, my footwear choice had proven right and my feet were blister free. Looking round at everyone lined up for Day 2, I drew strength from the fact that I was actually faring better than some of my fellow runners, many of whom had had to pay a visit to the medic prior to the briefing. I could do this! Again, I finished the day in good time and in pretty good shape. My muscles were sore, but I was still both blister free and injury free. The views of the day had been stunning. Glorious sunshine and clear visibility meant that when we finished the section at Lulworth Cove, we had enjoyed spectacular views all the way back round the coast to Portland, and to Weymouth where we had started the day. By the start of day three, and despite it being the toughest day of the three, I knew that provided I took it steady, I was certainly going to finish. I learned a lot about myself over those three days. What I didn't realise is how much more there was still to learn. Fast forward then to September 2014, and I toed the line for my first ever 24 hour race. In many ways, despite the enormity of the challenge of running for 24 hours, I was more comfortable with myself. I had set myself the challenge of running at least double marathon distance and decided to take it as it came beyond that point. Despite my feet shredding in the early hours of the morning (due to a sun-baked cattle-trodden couple of fields in the middle of each lap), leading me to have to take a couple of hours rest, I managed 78 miles. I was thrilled. I was an ultra-runner! Or was I?
Of course, technically, I had run an ultra-distance and therefore was an ultra-runner. But nobody actually told my psyche that. For the following 18 months I turned up at ultra-distance events with that same feeling of being the 'outsider'. Not that anyone ever made me feel like that, quite the contrary in fact. The ultrarunning scene is an exceptionally friendly one and it is very easy to bond with fellow runners when you are sharing your pain. Coming forward to 2016, this year alone I have competed at 3 24-hour races and numerous 50km and beyond runs. I have run a lot! Yet, I remain in awe of most of the individuals with whom I toe the line. Many of these individuals I now have the honour to class as friends, or at least as running acquaintances. But I am still slightly star struck by their abilities. They have dedication and perseverance and an ability to perform at levels so far beyond anything I can ever dream of. Many of them have done, or are currently doing, incredible things. At my last 24-hour race of this year, last month, I threw everything at the course and squeezed 94 miles out of a rather muddy circuit. It pretty much broke me and I was totally spent immediately after the race. I was thrilled at the result, but more than anything else, I was stunned to find that I finally felt like I had earned the title of ultrarunner. I felt like I belonged! I am still, and forever will be, in awe of the results of those right out at the front of the pack but I can now say that, at last, I feel like a (humble) ultrarunner. I think I have found my feet! I can't believe it has been over 4 months since my last Blog post! Ouch - sorry... it's all been a bit busy!!! My last post was the end of April and things started to get busy in May so here's a quick round-up of the Summer... The Hope 24: This was a new race on my radar this year (it's only been going a couple of years) and so I wasn't sure what to expect but what I didn't expect was the absolute rollercoaster ride it provided. It is a wonderfully organised event with a proper festival feel to the campsite. As is often the way with 24 hr races, the main race ran from noon Saturday to noon Sunday, but there was a children's race at 10am on Saturday which served as Eleanor's first ever proper running race. It was 1.5 miles long, and covered a small portion of the main event's route. She loved it, she ran really well, posted a great time, had a great time and immediately wanted to come back next year to do it all again.
How about my run? Well, it is a beautifully brutal course - about 5 miles per lap with about 680 feet of ascent/descent each lap. On the whole there was very little flat ground to run, just ups and downs, either shallow or steep. My impression on the first lap was 'Oh Lord this is going to be tough!!' and it didn't disappoint. Throughout the afternoon on Saturday I was actually running better than I had expected and was ahead of my anticipated schedule. I was eating and drinking well and feeling good. Shortly before 10pm, with just under 40 miles in my legs though, something started to feel 'not quite right'. There was a long section of off-camber downhill about 3.5 miles into the loop and my left shin was starting to twinge coming down there. It's not an area I have ever suffered any niggles let alone an injury so my alarm bells rang straight away. When I got back to camp I had a change of footwear to something a little more cushioned to see if that would help, and advised Ian that I would be taking the next lap or two slowly to see how things went. Although I was able to keep running, the front of the shin tightened further and so, with 50 miles and 12 hours of running completed, I peeled back my calf guards to reveal a swollen-looking shin, and made the tough decision to pull out. And so it was Hope 12 for me rather than Hope 24. All I could hope for at that point was that there was no lingering damage as it was only 13 days until London to Brighton. I said at the time that I would probably be back to do battle with those hills again some time and, true to form, I signed up for it again for next year as soon as registration opened! London to Brighton: This was a celebration of friendship as much as a date in my running diary. We hadn't expected the weather to be quite as hot as it was (scorchio!!) or there to be quite so many uphill sections (!!!) so it was every bit the challenge it should have been. We got ourselves to Brighton in time for breakfast on Sunday then spent the rest of the day sunbathing on the beach!!! A social Ultra or Two: Despite being a very accomplished marathon runner (sub 3 hrs anyone?) Ian had never run an Ultra. 2016 was the year to change that!! In June, we were due to go and run the Malvern Midsummer Marathon with the LDWA, but due to family illnesses creating doubt over our childcare arrangements, we left it til the last minute to enter, then found that the event was full. Never mind, we had done it before so it wasn't that big a loss. Enter plan B... how about we go and run the route I previously planned for Ben Smith for his 2 local marathons in December and April, says I? Good idea, says the hubby and away we go. We were about 8 miles into the run when I broached with Ian whether or not he felt me may be able to make the run 50km, rather than 42.5? He decided to go for it, and with a couple of pub stops for lunch and afternoon 'refreshments' (OK, half a cider!!), made it to the finish back home in pretty good shape. A couple of weeks later, I found myself at the testing ground of the Beer Ultra - a concept thought up by the rather bonkers Barefoot Aleks involving 10 x 5km loops with a half pint of beer at the start of each loop and one to finish. What should have been carnage, actually resorted in being a really really fun day out - we all got slightly merry in the first few laps and then remained that way for the rest of the day! Another week, and Ian's first 'official' ultra was the Hallow 12 Parishes 40 Mile Challenge. We did the marathon distance on this one last year and enjoyed it, so it seemed logical to give the longer distance a try. Surprisingly, we both felt better this year during the latter stages (with 14 more miles in the legs) than we did last year... #defyingtheageingprocess. The Cotswold 24 However I think about this weekend, I struggle to come up with much in the way of positives. I love 24 hour races - there is something about them that evokes a trenches mentality, and the support is fab because you go past the same spectators time and time again... but this one just didn't do it for me. The RD's had brought in students to staff the event and they were frankly quite useless. Whatever you asked of them, they didn't know the answers, they were lacklustre at checkpoints (many playing on the phones rather than watching the race and some of the nightwatchmen actually fell asleep!), and they just didn't 'get' that a lot of us were out there for a whole 24 hrs. The organisation was very poor for soloists, who were camped away from the course necessitating checking out from the course to fetch food, drink or a change of clothes; there was no water point on the start/finish straight meaning we had to come off course to fill water bottles, and even the WCs were away from the course requiring 'checking out' of the race to pay a visit! After 69 miles at 4.15am I decided I had just about had enough and retired from the race. I wasn't alone, a number of other soloists camped around me did likewise. When advising the 'officials' that my race was done, I was given my medal, still in its plastic bag... not even a 'well done'. I won't be returning to this one in the future, nor any of their other events! Runstock 2016 This was a late addition to my 2016 schedule. It attracted me because both Ian and Ellie could take part as well, and it formed part of a festival-like weekend of fun. To say it exceeded expectations is an understatement! The run format was a 5km loop, with optional obstacles, both natural and man-made, with 8 hours to complete as few or as many laps as we saw fit. With Ian having stepped up to Ultra distance this year, the decision was made to prioritise his run to see if he could get hold of the special 50km medal. For my part, I was to go round with Ellie for one to one and a half laps at a time, whilst Ian did about 2 to 3 solo ones, and then we would swap over and I would get in a lap and a half solo before switching back over again, hopefully therefore not wearing Ellie out but getting as much out of the event as we all could. The result? Ian got his 50km, I managed to squeeze in 45km just before the 8 hrs and Ellie... well she did an amazing 30km! Not bad for a 7 yr old!!!! The evening entertainment on Saturday night was headlined by the Bootleg Beatles and it was a truly fabulous weekend. The event was organised by Rat Race and the slickness of the organisation sold me on their events. I have therefore bought a season pass to their events for next year and will be rising to the Challenge of some pretty extreme stuff in 2017!!! Joust 2016 I love this event. It holds a special place in my running heart. This year it fell at the end of a very busy running season and would serve as either the pinnacle of my year, or the swansong. Either way, it was getting everything I had got!! But first, it was time for mother nature to throw in her two-penneth!!! The Joust has had a lucky run with weather, albeit often a little too warm if we are going to be picky. This year proved a little different, with the heavens opening just before the start time and the course turning into something of a quagmire in places. It did dry somewhat throughout the 24 hrs, and Sunday morning was rather pleasant but I am still bemused as to where my tan lines appeared from!!! I am a very non-competitive competitor with these races - only ever going out to push myself not to race others. A lot of other ultra-runners are the same. As a consequence of which I rarely check on my positioning during a run, and if I do, it will have no bearing on my race plan - I can only go as well as I can go, there is no point burning myself out chasing another competitor who may or may not sustain the run they are currently having. As it happens,during this run, I did find out in the early hours of the morning that I was sitting in 4th place. This is about my normal position in the Joust, so I was quite pleased, as I knew that the conditions and being a bit race-weary, meant that I was a little slower than previous races up to the 50 mile point. Those early hours of the second day in a 24 hr race are always tough and this time was no better. Ian was accompanying me through the night as both my buddy runner and the third leg of a relay team and the poor chap was left in no doubt whatsoever how much I can hate myself for entering these events when the body clock is screaming for sleep! Despite all of my mutterings, however, I managed to push on through and surprised myself by coming out the other end with a total of just over 94 miles in 23hrs and 37mins. A personal best over a 24 hour race period and enough to secure a second place on the podium. A great end to my season despite discovering once the initial pain subsided at the end of the day that I appear to have incurred a stress fracture on my fifth metatarsal!!! Hey ho, that will heal in time and doesn't in any way mar the memory of another great Joust. Sadly I won't be there next year as, courtesy of Rat Race, I have a date that weekend with a mountain and a lake in Snowdonia ... eeek!!!! Time for a few confessions! And I am going to put it out there as to why I run and what I get from it... buckle yourself in, dear reader, this could be an interesting ride!!! I ran a marathon with Ben Smith a couple of weeks ago. If you haven't heard of him, look him up : www.the401challenge.co.uk He is a gorgeous guy for whom I have the utmost respect. This was the second time I have run with him. We were about 22 or 23 miles into the run and we got to chatting about runners in general. We had about 20 other runners with us that day for some or all of the distance and were talking about some of the background stories we had heard from some of the other runners. Ben has his own background story - see his website if you don't know it - and said to me 'I bet you've got a story to tell too haven't you?' to which my reply was that yes I did, but nothing so dramatic as a lot of the other tales I had heard that day and on other days from other runners. But it got me thinking that perhaps I should tell it anyway.... Training for running long distances can be painful, and boring and can get in the way of doing other stuff I want to do. There... that's that confession out of the way! Although I truly love my sport, there can be days, and sometimes even weeks, when I resent the domination it has over my life. So I can only estimate the level of resentment that some of my friends and family feel towards it! Sorry. So why do I do this to myself at all, and particularly if I'm not going to win the events I enter? The answer is that there are many reasons why I do it and more than one way of ‘winning’ Let's have a look first at some of the background to why I run. I was a good runner in school. I ran track and cross country to a reasonably competitive level and was involved with my local athletics club three times per week. Although I didn't excel, I held my own pretty well until a groin injury curtailed my season in my last year of school. The impetus was lost... leaving school I no longer ran with the club and my running pretty much fell by the wayside. I ventured the odd jogs along the beach whilst at University in Bournemouth and an occasional short run with friends on my return home, but nothing structured and nothing 'serious'. In my early twenties, I started playing badminton with a club on a regular basis. It was good fun, and kept my baseline fitness up (well, a little anyway!). Then something 'odd' happened. My hips started to complain... loudly. Not just when I was playing badminton, but even just walking along the street. It got so bad that I was having to stop and rest every 30 steps or so to let the fire in my hips subside. After numerous trips to the doctor's etc. I was told I had developed arthritis on the hip joints. I was prescribed high dosage pain killers and advised that I could be referred to an occupational therapist who could help me cope with day-to-day living. I was stunned. I was 23 years old, recently married, reasonably fit... why was this happening? The prescribed meds did nothing to help the pain, and they upset my stomach awfully. I didn't know what to do until a friend recommended I try a special diet. She was a nurse and had known a number of arthritic patients who had gained some relief from their painful symptoms through the diet. It was worth a try. So ten days before Christmas 1995 I started the strict elimination diet. It was pretty tedious, involving me eating little other than fish, brown rice and limited vegetables. I also commenced a programme of dietary supplements that had been recommended to me. It was strict and boring but I was desperate enough to try it. After a tee-total and tedious couple of weeks, including Christmas itself, my hips started to improve. By the second week of January, I was able to return to badminton! I slowly but surely re-introduced the eliminated foods, and reduced the amount of supplements I was taking. I had no idea why it worked, or how, but it was looking good! My husband and I decided to book a walking holiday in Austria to celebrate! Upon looking at the Lakes and Mountains walking brochures, and the skiing brochures, we saw that the last week of the ski season fell the week before the first week of the walking season, but was considerably cheaper... so, cheapskates that we are, we made the decision to take a chance on the weather and go with the last week of the ski season! We weren't skiers, and had no intention of becoming skiers, but surely one week wouldn't make that much difference to the conditions? With the holiday booked, we travelled up to Tamworth to a family Christening. The Snowdome had recently opened there, and we were advised to go and have a look as it was an amazing sight to see the 'man-made' snow inside this giant freezer! We took one look at the skiers on the nursery slope and made a decision there and then to try a few lessons before our holiday. We had two months! Oh how we laughed when we first put on the skis out on that artificial snow!!! We could neither of us stand up, let alone move along! The experience was in stark contrast to our mood only a couple of months earlier when my hips had been bad and the future looked bleak. In the space of a handful of lessons and a couple of 'recreational' ski sessions, we became hooked on the sport, and the moment we hit the Austrian Tyrol, with the amazing scenery and glorious sunshine, our love affair with the Alps and the white stuff began. There was only one problem... we were dreadfully unfit! A fact that was starkly obvious by the third day in the mountains when we could barely move and were so tired we just wanted to sleep!!! Something had to be done, so upon our return we joined a gym! Although I didn't realise it at the time, this is what started my shift of career. It took me another decade to finally leave the Law and take up my career in the fitness industry, but the seeds were sown back in 1996. And in about 1997 I started back running again, although not to a serious level at that point. I took up running to challenge myself… initially I used to test how fast I could go over a certain distance – 5 miles, 10km, 10 miles, half marathon etc. And eventually, inevitably, I felt I was ready to face what I thought of at the time as the ultimate challenge… a marathon. I ran my first marathon way back in 2003. It was in Stratford upon Avon. It hurt… a lot… and I hated it! But i also felt that I hadn’t quite got the best out of myself on that particular run so I signed up to run another… and another… and my quest began to run my own ‘best’ marathon. I had a time goal that I felt I was capable of… (sub 3:45) and I wasn’t going to rest until I attained that goal… Now for most runners in Great Britain, the ultimate marathon is London - indeed to most non-runners, it is thought of as THE Marathon, not just one of many. It is the largest marathon we hold in the UK, with a field of about 35 to 40 thousand runners. Like most other distance runners, I wanted to run London! I eventually got to run it for the first time in 2010. I had got a place for 2009 but with the marathon in April, and my daughter being born in the March, there was no way I was making the start line that year! (although my husband Ian ran it in 2009 and got his fastest ever time, despite the obvious distractions!) Despite having a new baby to care for (and breast feed!), I trained really hard for the 2010 Marathon, pushing my body to try to squeeze as much speed as I could from it … and when i stood at the start line in Greenwich that sunny April morning, I was so happy. I stood there soaking in the atmosphere, watching all the elite runners start their race, watching the celebrities getting interviewed for television, and knowing I was in really good shape for the race to come. When the race started, I kept to my game plan… watched my pace, drank and ate at the right times, and pushed on through the 26 miles of London streets. It still hurt a lot, but I kept on pushing whilst soaking up the feeling of being part of something amazing, something I had dreamt of for 8 years. London really is like being part of a fast moving carnival that goes on for hours and hours… I was ecstatic when I crossed the finish line 43 seconds inside my time goal (in 3:44:17). Where did I come? (I was actually 6907th finisher, 1075th female or 652nd in my age group!). To me, though, I had won that day, despite the fact that I was far from first. I was thrilled by my time, which was my fastest marathon time by over 15 minutes, but doubly-so because it was fast enough that I automatically qualified for a place to run at London for the following two years. London 2011 ended up being a little slower due to me taking exams in the lead up to the run which impacted upon the time I had available to train... and then 2012 just couldn't happen. That was the year that my wheels came off. In December 2011 I caught a virus. I was horridly fluey, and chesty but thought little of it, until I developed searing pain in my left eye. I had a viral attack on the cornea caused by the shingles virus, which probably came on as a result of my immune system being low from the chest infection I had had... My eye-sight was threatened and I was pumped full of anti-virals, anti-biotics and steroids. At one point I was on 13 different doses of meds per day. Thankfully, the meds did their job and my eye-sight was saved with little lasting damage. I was warned to take it easy for the next 12 months to try to avoid a repeat occurrence, but that I had been lucky. Unfortunately, my immune system wasn't so great at recovering. I developed post-viral fatigue. I was continuously exhausted with aching muscles. I felt bone-weary and had a pea-soup fog in my brain that made it almost impossible to function. I developed mild depression and suffered bouts of anxiety. I chatted with a GP friend about it and he advised me that there was little my own GP could do to help even if I went to see them... there was no specific test for ME/Post-viral syndrome, and no particular treatments for it, although I could be prescribed anti-depressants etc if necessary. He recommended that I look into nutritional supplementation... which I did. Months of immunity-boosting supplementation followed, enabling me to eventually return to running in late 2012. I had to take it gently, because I found that running hard/fast made me feel ill again, but at least I was back doing what I loved. Having deferred my London place from 2012 to 2013, I had a focus. I knew I couldn't run a fast marathon but could I run a marathon at all? It was me against ME! A gently, gently approach to training got me to the week before that race, which I had decided would be my farewell to Marathon Running. The date marked 10 years since my first marathon, and my body felt like it was telling me enough was enough, so I prepared for that event believing it would not only be my last London marathon but my last marathon. Full stop. Then the Boston Bombing happened. Six days before London. Decisions... Decisions. To run or not to run? Run of course - security would be higher than normal, it was probably safer than usual. Get out there and make a statement to the terrorists. The atmosphere that year was incredible. The streets of London were far, far busier than I had ever known them, the support electric. I ran a slower time (although still sub-4 hours) but I thoroughly enjoyed the whole run. I was on a high for days! I had to keep running marathons! And so it was that I switched from running for a time to running for fun! So why do I run crazy distances ‘for fun’? Firstly, of course, for the joy of taking part. London is amazing because of its scale and the kudos involved. But I have also taken part in small events where there are less than 10 competitors where we have all been on the ‘journey’ together, and have made lasting friendships from it, and I have run in some amazing places – a couple of years ago, i spent three whole days running along the Dorset coast from Charmouth to Studland Bay in glorious sunshine – and the views were just spectacular… next year I am hopefully heading to Morocco to run in the desert! But it isn't just about the 'events', it is also about the training. I try to run most days. Some days I run short, some days I run long, sometimes 2 or 3 times per day. Why? Well, of course, some of it is about logging the miles in readiness for the events, but, on other days, more than anything it helps to keep me grounded. I still suffer from the after effects of that 2011 virus. I have varying levels of anxiety to deal with on a daily basis, and a constant brain fog that means that I can no longer multi-task - I constantly have to remind Ian that I cannot talk to him whilst doing something else. If I am chopping veg, I can't talk, if I am talking, I can't chop veg! And please, please, please, if I am doing my accounts, stay the hell out of the room!!!! I can have a very short fuse and I have an atrocious memory. Running helps to keep any depression at bay, and seems to lessen my anxiety - I can work things through in my head whilst out on the run in a way I can't do any other time, and it often helps me to deal with stuff. Provided I don't go out to run fast or hard, I find it keeps my immune system ticking along well too, Whilst I mostly run alone, I also enjoy the camaraderie of running with friends. My running friends are a fantastic group of people who offer one another a special kind of therapy that only like minded (broken!) souls can. As Ben said, we all have a story to tell! This is mine. Well... some of it! Apologies for the lack of recent posts. Preparation for, and then participation in, the 7 in 7 took up a lot of my time, leaving me behind with household chores and admin, and seriously in debt for spending some time with my family, so I have been playing catch-up.
Additionally, my recovery post-event has meant a complete lack of long runs... and it is normally out on long runs on my own that I formulate the idea for the next post... no long runs = no ideas!! So how has my recovery looked? Well, the first week was odd... I didn't ache, and I wasn't actually stiff, which was in itself quite weird, but my legs were definitely like lead. In the week after the last run, I got out for a steady walk around the block a number of times and this helped to keep the heaviness at bay. On the Tuesday and Thursday, I did a gym workout - chiefly upper body plus 40 mins gently spinning on the bike, which I hoped would help to get the circulation to the tired muscles. By the end of the week, I was chewing my knuckles wanting to get out and run, but I knew it would do me no favours and so resisted. My first 'run' was on the following Monday. It was a short, very slow plod around a two mile circuit and my legs felt like they had been switched with someone else's. My feet slapped the pavement the whole two miles! It would be true to say my runs on that Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday morning were pretty loveless! On the Wednesday afternoon, I had a sports massage booked - my therapist spent a whole hour working all of the leg muscles top to bottom, front and back. There were a couple of areas of tenderness (IT Band... pass the leather strap to chew on!!!) but it was nowhere near as bad as I had anticipated, and no real horror stories. As expected, I then spent a couple of days feeling like I had been run over by a steam train - if you've never had a sports massage, trust me when I say that's normal! By the Friday, I was able to get out and run normally again... the bounce felt like it was returning to my legs. It was time to start adding some mileage... So last week was all about consistently running around 4-5 miles per day which was going great until Friday, when I started to develop mild symptoms of a chest and sinus infection. Time to slam on the brakes and take a few days off!! It's not unusual for me to pick something like this up in the couple of weeks post-marathon, so I knew that I would do best to rest and allow my body to fight it. Incidentally, for those reading this who want to get a bit more understanding of resting heart rates, they are a pretty good indicator of your health status. Generally, in terms of fitness, a lower resting rate is indicative of a well-trained cardio-vascular system. Regardless of the actual figure though, a deviation (normally upwards) from that norm, can indicate a problem - generally either illness or overtraining. My norm is currently around 56 or 57 beats per minute. On Friday, it jumped to 59, then to 61 on Saturday and 63 on Sunday, peaking at 64 yesterday (a deviation of 7 or 8 beats from the norm). I probably felt at my worst on Sunday and Monday. Today (Tuesday), I feel considerably better, and my resting heart rate is dropping (currently at 62 beats per minute), so I'm hoping that it has now run its course... fingers crossed! I always tell my PT clients to keep an eye on the resting rate, as it is normally the first indicator that they may need to back off on training... often before they even feel the symptoms of the impending illness. It is easy for me to keep an eye on mine as I have a fitness tracker with 24 hour-a-day heart rate monitoring. If you don't have this, then just a single measurement of your pulse first thing every morning, before you get out of bed, will help you start to gauge your own 'normal' and 'abnormal' levels (find your pulse point at your neck or wrist and count the beats for 1 minute (or for 15 seconds and multiply by 4)). You never know, it may save you a lot of grief! Thanks to all who entered February's Challenge. Following this morning's draw by the lovely Eleanor, I am delighted to announce that Rachel Caseley has won the free personal training session. Well done Rachel!
There are two way to win for this month, and more than one prize available, but it is all about the mileage! March is a recovery month for me, so I will be cutting back my mileage considerably in comparison to January and February. Your challenge, however, is to log as many running miles as possible between 3rd March and 31st March (a 28 day period). Anyone who logs more running miles than me will win a free spot on one of my summer bootcamps and whoever logs the highest miles wins the free PT session. To commit to get fit, please sign up by making a £2 donation on my Just Giving Page (see link on side-bar). The nominated Charity for this month is again Children with Cancer. The entry fee is just £2. In order to enter, please make your donation via the JustGiving Link set out to the right of this page by no later than 10th March, then record your runs by your tracking device of choice (GPS watch, phone app etc) (if using a treadmill, please take a picture of the display before pressing stop). You do not have to run all the way - you can take walk breaks if needed, but MOST of each submitted 'run' should be actually run and not walked. You will then need to message me your mileage at the end of the month, and by no later than April 3rd, and provide evidence if I request it. So,sign up and just get those miles in, then submit the mileage to me via my facebook page or by email to [email protected].... Good luck and happy running! *Ts and Cs apply. PT Session to be taken within 3 months either at DW Sports Fitness Kidderminster or at an agreed location within a 10 miles radius of Stourport on Severn. Bootcamp dates to be advised in due course. All sessions subject to availability. |
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