Lakeland Olympic Triathlon 1 mi Swim, 26 mi Bike, 6.2 mi Run 14 Aug 2010

My first Olympic race in many years, was up in the Lakes district. Although it was pouring rain when we drove out of our driveway in the morning, by the 1 p.m. start it was sunny and even slightly warm. The water wasn't, though, as the swim in the deep lake was in 61 degree water! Even with a wetsuit, the cold temps hit me fast, and my feet, hands and face felt totally numb. By the finish of the swim I wasn't sure if I would survive it, but somehow pulled myself back around to the finish, and staggered up the ramp to slowly pull off my wetsuit with numbed fingers.

The bike route was mostly sheltered from the winds by the Lake District hills, and it was a very fast, flat course. With rare sunshine hitting my face, I was back around to the second transition faster than I hoped.

Then it became apparent that the race organizers had saved the hill for the run, instead. Shortly after transition, the incline started, and continued for almost two miles. Granted, it was never very steep, but I hate running up hills, and had to walk on short sections of it. By this time in the afternoon, it was actually (dare I say it?) hot during the run, and I found myself pouring water on my head at the water station to cool off.

But, I finished under three hours for the Olympic distance, which was a personal best for me. I’m sure getting a speedier bicycle in the interim had something to do with it, but I’ll take speed where I can get it. :)

See my photos here

Leeds Xpress Sprint Triathlon 500 m Swim, 15 mi Bike, 3 mi Run 1 Aug 2010

Although I had gotten out a few times this spring to ride my bike, the weather in England isn’t exactly suited for bicycling, in my opinion. Hot, dry, windless days don’t come around very often…and I’m not spectacularly motivated to ride my bike when it’s cool and cloudy. But, I had discovered a local bike club called Wheel Easy, and had a few group rides under my belt.

Anyway, I had been thinking that I may not do any triathlons this summer, as I really wasn’t in shape for swimming or biking yet. But I had a revelation one day, and thought to myself, that if I just signed up for a triathlon, then I would be forced to get in shape for it. So, sign up I did. I found an Olympic distance in the Lake District, and then thought that maybe I should sign up for a sprint as well, just for some transition practice. The Leeds Xpress Tri seemed nice and short, close to home, and even better, the swim was in a pool. I like warm water.

On the day, the swim and bike went as well as I could expect, as I really wasn’t in shape yet. The bike roads were wide enough that the passing traffic didn’t bother me, and the hills were minor. My transitions were fast in the warm dry weather, and then I got to the run. It was on a trail around the school property, and with every uneven step, my guts started to hurt worse and worse. I guess I ate something the night before that my body violently disagreed with. It was a long slow three miles to the finish line, hunched over and trying not to breath too deep.

So I went from being somewhat in contention, to finishing 10 minutes behind the leading woman, which is a large amount in such a short race. Ah, well, there’s always next year.

12th Osmotherley Phoenix 33 mi. 3 Jul 2010

After completing just four relatively short fell races, I found myself with a strange desire to do a hundred miler.  Although I’ve completed the Death March 100km in Belgium, a hundred miles is another distance in itself, and not to be tackled lightly.  The Long Distance Walkers Association (LDWA) organizes a hundred mile every year, and the route always moves to a different part of the country.  This year it was in Scotland, and although the race was full and I wasn’t in shape, that weekend in May passed with my distinct longing to be there in some capacity.  Which led me to the realization that one must qualify to earn the right to enter the LDWA hundred by doing a 50 miler the year before.  So if I wanted to aim to do the Housman 100 in 2011, this year I would need to find a 50 mile and get ready for it quickly. 

Which is why I found myself on the 33 mile course of the Phoenix, on a clear blue day in warm temps running in just shorts and a t-shirt.  The course, which followed the Cleveland Way for almost half the total distance, made for easy navigation and beautiful views of the North Yorkshire Moors.  I had adjusted the new pack and liked the results, packed plenty of food for the long course, and come well hydrated with a mission of staying loose and relaxed this time.   I resolved to take my time, rest and eat more than normal, and had no times goals for a distance I hadn’t covered for a full two years.   I met Nick Ham by chance in the parking lot, and together we did the long walk (almost a mile?) up to the start hall.
 
Before the start of the course, I had volunteers to be a test subject for a student research project on the effects of hydration.  They were thorough, and I provide all sorts of details, a urine sample, did some simple cognition tests, and wrote down everything I had eaten the day before and the day of the race.  The race was full, and almost 500 people toed the line for the 33, 26, and 17 mile distances.  I lost sight of Nick within minutes of the start, but figured that trying to go his pace was insanity at the moment. Once on the route, I followed a whole line of people until the 17 mile course branched off and bodies became scarcer.  The route only had one tricky section through fields and some woods, and as I drew near it I didn’t have anyone around me but had route description in hand.  At the checkpoint just before, I passed the secret kit check, then was told by a volunteer that a group of women had gone through just minutes before me.  I managed to catch up with them quickly on tired legs, and told myself that if I could stay with them for the next five miles or so, then the rest of the way would be simple to do on my own.  The women welcomed a new face and their pace was manageable, so we all double checked the route through many, many stone walls and pastures, in a narrow valley lined with trees.  We even stopped for a short break while one of them tended a tender foot, a welcome break for all of us in the heat. 
 
Once at the final checkpoint, I filled up my water bottles again, waved the women off down the trail, and guzzled liquid with my feet propped up for a few minutes.  It was quite hot where the wind was blocked, and on open moorland the wind dehydrated us all much quicker than we realized.  Knowing I would have another urine test for the researchers after the run, I wasn’t worried what color it would be, but if I would have any at all to donate!   I topped up again and set off on the last 9 miles alone with a straightforward path to follow over the moors.  It was now difficult to run at all, but walking wasn’t too bad even if it was slower than running.   I finished knowing that I didn’t want to go any farther (oh, that mile back to the car, ouch!), but that if I needed to, I probably could.  Which is what I’ll be asking my legs to do in a few months on a 50…? 

Time: 8 hours 41 minutes.

Mallerstang & Nine Standards YOMP 23 mi. 6 Jun 2010

Newly renamed The YOMP Mountain Challenge  

The YOMP Mountain Challenge offered a chance to get out in the northern Yorkshire Dales, and see my own backyard, as it were.  I had driven through the Dales but hadn’t had the chance to hike in them yet.  It was a bit of a drive to go around them to the northern end, and as I came down the last hill into the starting town, a thick fog covered the clear blue skies.  I was trying out a new backpack built for this fell running obsession, and spent some time at the start trying to get comfortable.  The fog never lifted the entire day, making the route damp and soundless and isolated.  I was glad I had brought arm-warmers, and was soaked in cool sweat the whole way.   I had the required map and kit, but was amazed to see that the course was marked, not with signs, arrows or other normal items, but with bamboo poles and streamers.    Driven into the moors about every 100 meters, one would come into view in the fog just after passing the last one.  There must have been hundreds of poles, which kept me from finally having to dig out my compass, as I had no sense of direction in the fog.  I spent most of the hike quiet and alone, and the poles became lifesavers in the featureless, trackless moor.   The route wasn’t quite as nice as the markers, though, as it seemed to go up hills higher than I believed existed in the Dales.  I could never see the top and the climbs seemed to be endless…I don’t think there were any flat parts of the whole course.   Every descent followed a new ascent on the next peak, and at times the mist cleared just enough to give daring views of steep cliffs dropping off into the valleys.

 I didn’t get around it very well, as clenching my face and tensing my body probably slowed me up and made my muscles work harder than normal.  An almost sprained ankle midway almost made me want to pull out, but the pain went away in a few miles and I continued on.  The race was more mentally challenging than anything, as I was going slower than anticipated and didn’t adjust, rest, eat and drink as much as I should have.  I got around in just under 6 hours but I was on shaky legs when the final downhill finally turned into smooth pavement.  I would have like to see the scenery in better conditions (anything but fog), and the trail marking was superb, so perhaps I can vindicate myself next year by doing it again, hills and all. 

The 48th Fellsman 8-9 May 2010

With my entry into the Calderdale Hike (albeit the wrong distance), and subsequent internet browsing, I found myself signed up for the Vasque ultra-running championships at www.runfurther.com.  Although I had no intention of doing any of them, this somehow netted me an email about how The 48th Fellsman was still short of volunteers and could I help?  I was off work that weekend but couldn’t think about racing 62 miles on such a challenging course.  So it suddenly seemed like a great idea to volunteer to help everyone else 'round, and maybe meet a few people as well.  I packed up some sleeping equipment and found the start just 20 miles down the road from my house. 
 
Everything was organized chaos at the finish area, and without a defined job, I found myself making signs, helping in the kitchen, checking kit for the entrants (boy did I get some good ideas from seeing everyone else’s packing jobs!), and eventually catching a few hours sleep before the early morning wake-up to catch a ride to the start line down the road.  There, I checked more kit at a frantic pace, startled not a few people with my accent. “You’re not from around here, are you?”, and saw the start of the race in windy, cool, but not rainy conditions.  Then it was back to the finish school, where after a short time I found myself helping Nick Ham transfer race numbers from the incoming checkpoint crossing into the main computer program.  Nick was giving an injured knee some rest, and had also decided to see what it’s like on the other side of a race.  There was a constant buzz of noise from the checkpoint radios and a hum of many people working diligently to keep track of over 400 participants as they made their way around the course.  Nick and I alternated hours hunched over the computer checking that every number made it through every checkpoint in turn, recording drop-outs, and then eventually printing finishing certificates.  This went on for almost 30 hours non-stop, and we were both forced to take nap-breaks to continue functioning.
 
By the end I had almost concluded that running the route would perhaps have been easier than the work the volunteers were doing.  I gained a great appreciation for the work that went on behind the scenes, to ensure that participants had good support, water and hot food around the course, and a place to come back to with showers and floor space for sleeping.   It took the work of more volunteers than racers, and I was happy that I could help.  Read more about this in Nick’s detailed blog here.

16th Pendle Witch Way 12 mi. 24 Apr 2010

Having scared my husband, Rob, with tales of sucking bogs and muddy trails (he hates getting his shoes dirty), I still convinced him that he had to see the moors for himself.  However, the dry weather had continued, and our short route around Pendle left us with dry feet, and a faint feeling of disappointment that I couldn’t soak Rob in a bog.  But we had a nice leisurely walk around, and even tried ourselves at navigating, without a route description and with another copied map. 

It went well until a few miles from the end, when I followed a couple that turned out later to not be on the walk, and then for a while the trails seemed to almost match the map but not quite.   I’m sure we walked 3 or 4 miles farther than necessary, which on a nice day and a short route wasn’t a disaster.  But I determined to get better printed color maps from now on, or at least to use the real one I was required to carry.

32nd Calderdale Hike, 27 mi. 10 Apr 2010

Just two weeks after the Blubberhouses initiation, I found myself with a car (paid for and picked up just the day before), a GPS (SatNav for you Brits), and the ability to get myself down to Calderdale.  I set off in the dark for my first left-hand driving experience, with another borrowed map, black–and-white copies, and the same kit.   The start was staggered, with runners leaving an hour later than the walkers.  I had a fear of being left behind by fast runners and lost for good, so I started with the walkers.  It became evident that this strategic move meant that I really had to walk and never run, or face elimination.  Oops.  Guessing I ‘m walking the whole way ‘round. 
 
This time there was no route description, and my copied map seemed to have lost the detail of trails that I needed to follow but really couldn’t see.   I could have pulled out my real color, laminated map, but it was in the bottom of my pack, and I figured as long as I was around others then I was better off.  Besides, there were so many turns, intersections, side roads and other challenges, that I couldn’t imagine not getting lost immediately.  I became, as some veterans would probably term it, a limpet.  In other words, a follower who hopes to get around the course by finding someone who has recce’d the course and knows the way.  It’s a mental shortcut and mostly eliminates the need for maps, route descriptions, and stopping at every intersection.  Unless you are following someone who is following someone who thinks they know the way but actually don’t, or isn’t in the race at all, and suddenly a whole line of followers find themselves off-route and quite lost.
 
Relief came after a few miles in the form of a confident man named Rodney, who knew the whole course from living in the area and walking all of it multiple times.  He knew every shortcut and took us past decrepit farms, grazing sheep, scenic overlooks, up steep hillsides, over rock walls, and in the shortest line toward the finish.  We walked every step of the way, even the downhill’s, which seemed very counterintuitive.   The weather, which had been unseasonably dry lately, meant that I only soaked my feet once in a bog.  It was warm, calm, and sunny, and in a tank-top I soaked up every bit of the early April sunshine.  We finished in just under 8 hours for my first walking marathon+.  http://www.calderdalehike.org.uk/