Easter Eggstravaganza BWF IVV Marathon, 26.2 miles, 23 Apr 11

I guess God even smiles on Great Britain's weather once in a while, as a series of nice warm days have graced our shores during the long Easter weekend.  What better way to enjoy it than with a long run in the countryside.  The British Walking Federation came through for me with a 42k walk, and even allowed me to get my volksmarching book stamped for the first time in a couple of years.  Before the walk even started, I was already feeling comfortably warm in just a T-shirt, and wondering if I should change into shorts (I did).  It was a small crowd of walkers that set off, and soon I was running alone in the sunshine.

It was almost a shock to find out that no map and compass were needed on the route, as the route description and colored tape markers made getting around the course a breeze.   My year in England must have corrupted me, with all this map and compass work, because I felt too light and easy, running around without all the perephenalia usually required on a walk, such as full waterproofs, map, first aid kit, and emergency blanket.   Anyway, in shorts, T-shirt and a tiny backpack, I was as light as I have ever been on an English run.  How quickly I forget that I did several thousand kilometers of volksmarches in Germany, without ever carrying a pack, using a map, or getting a route description.   Amazing that I almost never got lost just following the route markers! 

The route was pretty flat, given that this IVV event was in Barnburgh just north of Rotherham.  The course took us through brilliantly blooming fields of yellow mustard seed, woods filled with blankets of bluebells, and flowering trees with petals gently flying off in the breeze.  Not that there was much of a breeze, as the air felt very still and light.  I'm sure most of the participants were actually wishing for a breeze, to cool us down, instead of cursing the wind and the cold.  The sun never stopped shining, and the temperature kept creeping higher, until readings of 26C/80F were bandied around.  That's very hot to be out running around in, especially without acclimating first.  And it's still April?!?!

By the time I hit 20 miles, I was having trouble digesting enough water to cool myself down.  I could feel it sloshing in my stomach but not going anywhere.   So I slowed down a little (ok, I walked), enjoyed the scenery, and poured water over my head at the next checkpoint.  But it was still a hot, long few miles back to the start hall.  Luckily we went through another shady forest with bluebells everywhere, and it distracted me from the pain of running overheated.  Thanks to the organizers in the White Cross Walkers BWF Club, after arriving back at The Coach and Horses, I soon had a glass of ice-water in my hand, munching a Cadbury Egg, and recovered nicely.  Later I was quite happy sitting on a picnic table enjoying the afternoon and munching on a tasty plate of pies 'n peas. 

I am going to try and remember this weather for the rest of the summer when it goes back to being cold, windy, rainy, and generally miserable.   At least I had one nice day :) Ok, well this spring I'm willing to admit that we've had quite a few!

Flickr photos are here

Flamborough Cliff walk

I've been in the UK for a year, spring has arrived, and I need to get out more.   That's my spring resolution for the, uh,... spring.  So we took a drive to the east coast on a friends recommendation, and did an 11 mile hike around Flamborough Head to see the cliffs and the nesting birds. 

It was a wonderful spring day out, sunny, almost warm, and almost not windy.   Ah, well, you can't have everything here on the island, can ya? 

We started our hike, for lack of knowing any better, in Sewerby, walking east out to the lighthouse and then around to the bird colonies.  Although I didn't have a map of the area, I had looked at one beforehand, and figured that following a trail along the edge of a cliff couldn't be too hard.  I was right.  When we got to the lighthouse, a bit windswept from the headwinds, it was a perfect choice to drop down to the cove below and explore the cliffs while the tide was out.  Goodness, it was pretty warm down there in the sunshine, too.  I got down to wearing just one sweater instead of a jacket.  Never mind that the people around me were wearing shorts and watershoes...I'm not that crazy. 

Just jumping back across a deep puddle before the tide came in, we started around the north side of the head and finally found the thousands of nesting birds by following the smell.   Rob was estactic with his camera, and kept running off to the cliff edge to take more pictures.  We forgot the binoculars, though, and hence couldn't spot any Puffins amid the melee of other birds clinging to the cliffs. 
Back across the peninsula with the wind finally at our back, we enjoyed the sunshine in our face, and the trail wound through the woods to Dyke's End.    Back on the cliffs, the tide was fully in again, and all but lapping at them instead of being hundreds of feet out into the bay.

24 hour Adventure Racing Training Session in the Lakes

Adventure Races are usually team events.  Teams tend to want to train together.  So when my newly found team decided to conduct a 24 hour training session in the Lakes District, it actually sounded like a good idea.  In theory.  In reality, my schedule had me flying in from the USA the day before the training, then working all the next day, and then finally driving up to the Lakes and starting the 24 hours of training.   So a bit jet-lagged already, I was totally scared out of my mind a bit nervous about whether or not I would survive the day.

Adventure racing can have many potential events combined into a race, but mostly races consist of mountain biking, trekking, and kayaking.  So guess what was on our menu?  We started off with a long trek through the night, at first sticking to the low ground, but then making our way up and over a few hills, which I’m sure would have been beautiful in daylight.  



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As it was, I can really only tell where we went from the tracklog of my GPS now that I have downloaded it into my computer.   But as we climbed up to Dow Crag, the wind, which had been calm in the valley, picked up enough that we had to stop to add a windproof top.   And although the temperature didn’t drop much below 10C/50F, it felt cool enough up there that I almost wished for even another layer, which is the opposite of being back at the car wondering if I needed to bring anything!  I guess even on a nice night here it can still be pretty eventful.  We were all a bit chilled on the top, but decided to keep moving rather than put on our waterproof pants, limiting what a particularly witty member of our group called “boiling in a bag” on the uphill sections. 

From there, our route followed a knife-edged ridge over The Old Man of Coniston, Swirl How, and Wetherlam.   Missed views or not, as I picked my way over slippery rocks on hands and knees, I was somewhat grateful that my headlamp couldn’t reach the bottoms of the black cliffs looming under us.

I wasn't much of an aid to navigation, as the group was quite familiar with the area and I had yet to see it in daylight (notice recurring blog theme).  The almost full moon was mostly obscurred by clouds (another recuring theme), but on the hills we could at least see shadowy outlines of other hills, and so get a sense of our location beyond the map and compass and the light of our headlamps.  Luckily the fog was minimal and so was the wind, and the walking was relaxing and enjoyable even if it was through the wee hours of the morning.   I must say our navigators did a good job, although we did get off route once or twice actually for all I knew we could have been walking in circles. 

In one tricky section, to find the trail we wanted, we just took a compass bearing and started heading in that direction.   The end result was us picking our way down a steep rocky incline, skirting the occasional impassable cliff, and then following a boggy creek to a rock wall, where a ladder stile was miraculously located.  Both navigators claimed the credit for leading us to that one!



Photo courtesy of Sarah

 9 hours of trekking later, we were back at our cars and took an absurdly long time leisurely transitioned into the biking phase.    On a rented mountain bike, with little technical experience, I was left behind too many times to count once in a while.  Luckily everyone waited for me at each intersection like the good team they are.  Thanks, guys!  But it was fun to bump over the rocks with the shocks on my bike, and after a while I almost got the hang of it.  About then, we arrived at the ferry at Lake Windermere, and rode across to get to the kayak rental place.  After another transition, and a bit of a struggle to get into kayak and attach my sprayskirt, we were off and paddling on the glass calm water.   I get the feeling that it’s not this nice on the lake very often, but we took advantage of it by having a relaxed paddle near the shoreline to see the beautiful green leaves appearing on the trees.   The biggest trick was to keep from falling asleep while paddling, as we had all been awake for at least 24 hours by then.  I wasn’t in any danger of that, really, as the guys in the other kayak told jokes and kept me laughing so hysterically that I couldn’t hardly paddle at times.



Photo courtesy of Sarah



The sprayskirt and calm day meant that in the kayak I finally felt warm and dry for the first time since sweating my way up the hills last night.  I think adventure racing tends to be a sport where you are uncomfortable most of the time, but for some reason still sounds fun.  Anyway, the kayak portion was over way too fast, and soon we were again on our bicycles peddling our way back to the cars.  It was only early afternoon by that time, but as we were all feeling a bit tired (gee, I wonder why?), we decided to cut the planned training short by a few hours.   Which got extended a bit when we were having so much fun on the mountain bike, that our route kept getting longer and longer.  On a nice sunny day in the Lakes it’s hard to leave them behind.  After about 19 hours, we were back at the cars for good, and packing up to head home for some well-earned sleep. 

Simon's Seat and Dales Way hike, 11 mi

In a quest for a mega-weekend of training, I am following up the 32 mile Wuthering Hike yesterday with another day out on my feet.  I had actually meant to drive down and do the 15 mile route of the LDWA Walk to 'Ell and Back.  However, on Sunday morning, it was cold and raining, and my sore legs were not very motivated to get soaked out there.  Sorry, blogger Deb, there goes my chance to meet up with you...  So I slept in a bit longer, then discovered that the sun was actually supposed to come out that afternoon. 

 

Sure enough, it did get sunny, and so I had my chance to explore some local trails near my neck of the woods, which usually take a back burner to the route dictated by my races.   A friend had mapped out a good route up to Simon's Seat, and I convinced my husband to come with me and take pictures (he's really the photographer, not me).   Secretly, I was hoping to find a really boggy section of trail for him to walk through, as I keep complaining about bogs during my races.   He has yet to see fall into one.   Oddly enough, my route from Storith's up to Simon's was short on bogs, and long on a nice smooth rocky track.  There was also a scenic trail along a creek, and a short section through some deep woods, where we saw pheasants and some deer. 
The rocks around the trig point at Simon's Seat gave us a chance to hunker down out of the mild breezes and take an untimed tea break (it's nice to not be in a race while out on the trail sometimes).  From there, we decided to take a longer route back to the car by dropping down to the river and picking up the Dales Way for a section of it.  However, our slow walking pace + frequent stopping breaks for photos meant that this was going to take us right into sunset.  It didn't help that the navigator (um, that's me), throught for a second that we had missed the right trail on the way down the steep hill from Simon's Seat.   It seemed like a no-brainer at then time, to go heather-bashing across the moorside in an attempt to avoid back-tracking.  After a few hundred feet of this, I reevaluated the map and decided we hadn't missed our trail at all!  So we bashed across some more heather to get across to the stile that marked the trail, and the only way down into the valley across the stone fence.  

Simon's Seat Trig Point



We had hoped that getting down into the valley would be a little warmer than the breeze over the tops.  But by the time we got down to the river, the sun was low enough that the evening chill was creeping in.  Tired from the day before, I couldn't stay warm in the mild temps, and put on rain jacket and pants (it wasn't raining), in an attempt to keep some heat in.  We then walked a little faster, drank the last of our hot tea, and had a fine sunset hike along the river.  Once again, every time I get out on the trails around here, the scenery is gorgeous.  Even if it's a little chilly....



Knee-deep in heather



The Dales Way

Wuthering Hike (a.k.a. Haworth Hobble) 32 mi, 12 Mar 2011

Well, among the list of blogs I read, it seems that at least 5 of you have also completed the Wuthering Hike this last weekend.  Click to read Mike's, Nick's, Simon's, Ian's, Mike S, and/or Derby Tup's accounts of the race.  Perhaps that is too much race recap all at once...but they did have some nice photos, and since I forgot my camera, I don't.   Now if I just knew what all of you bloggers looked like (insert joke here about how all sweaty runners in spandex look alike), I could say hi on the starting line or afterwards over a cup of tea. :)

I wasn't feeling particularily energetic the week leading up to the race, perhaps becuase of the mega-exercise I'd had the week before in Fuerteventura.  I guess the warmth and sun inspired such levels of exertion that I had nothing left.   But back to the race, my low energy level sort of carried on to that as well.   On the drive over to the start, which was nicely under an hour for once, I drank a whole bottle full of hot tea, which is definitely not normal for me.  My stomach didn't really deal with all the liquid before the event commenced, either, and I could feel water sloshing in my innards every time I picked up the pace and ran.   Bad idea.  Note to self:  don't drink so much before a race.   My stomach never did digest all the water, so I ate some food to try and damp it down.  That didn't help either as I started cramping as I ran.  And then of course I got thirsty because my mouth was dry, and drank more water.   Ah, well, let's just say that running down hills, usually my strength, was quite painful and jolting.  Once I figured out that it would be a slow day, I gave in at one checkpoint and took a jelly-filled donut.  Not really great to eat on a sloshing stomach, or really during any long run in my opinion, but boy did it taste good!   I did sort of gag at the thought of eating multiple hot dogs, though, which were being handed out at one checkpoint.  I can't imagine eating a hot dog while running...much less three of them in one huge bun.    

The race, which was forecast to be hilly (not a surprise when the route goes any where near Stoodley Pike), was even more hilly than I imagined, or really wanted.  I stayed close to my hoped-for pace of 5 mph for the first couple of hours, then hit several hills in a row that were wickedly steep and went on and on and on and on and on.  By the time those were over, I was miles slower than my predicted finish time.   Yet the weather was nice, cool but not cold, cloudy but not rainy, and it was much less boggy and muddy than I had seen elsewhere.  It seems that every time I get out on the trails in England, there is always a surprise bit of scenery that is amazing to behold.  See the pictures of those suprises here, oh wait I forgot the camera.  Suffice to say that I did enjoy the scenery, even when I was huffing and puffing up the hills.  So I kept plodding onwards, and made up a bit of time in the flatter sections nearer the end. 

This was the first race of the Runfurther Series (I may do all 12 one year, but this will not be that year).  The race photographer stationed himself on a hill and entertained himself by trying to get us to run up it for his photos.  Needless to say, mine are not very flattering.   Luckily I don't even feel tempted to paste one of them in here as they are copywrited, and won't let me :) 

As there were always people around me to follow, I never did pull out my map and navigate for myself.  However, my recall of the route description and my map plottings the night before was surprisingly clear, as at each intersection I had to guess the correct route, I was right.  And thanks to a few tips before the start at tricky junctions, I saved myself and a few others some wrong turns by heeding Nick's advice. 

Fellow Reservoir Runner Peter and his teammate Jacqueline finally caught up to me with about 8 miles to go, after saying that they would "take it steady" from the start.  I was glad to have some company, and they helped push the pace a little, so the last few miles (which can take forever in an ultradistance race!) seemed to pass quite quickly.   The raindrops waited to fall until we could taste the stew back at the finish line.   At that point I didn't care if it rained all the way driving home (it did), as I had made it round, in just over 7 hours.  Sloshy stomach or not, my legs felt strong, and I think I am starting the year out fine, towards my soon-approaching goal of the 100 miler at the end of May.

Windy bicycling and kayaking, Fuerteventura, Canary Islands

Unlike our first trip to Fuerteventura, where there wasn't a cloud in the sky and the wind was calm, we got a full dose of wind and clouds this week.  But it was still warm and dry, and I wasn't about to lose an opportunity go to bicycling outside, instead of on my trainer.    I rented a mountain bike in downtown Corralejo, and since all roads lead south from here, well, I headed south.  The strong winds were at my back, and the sun came out enough to make my arms start to burn.  So it was a fast journey at first. 

I had it in my mind to go about 100 miles on my dusty rental, just to get down to the mountain roads that I had enjoyed so much during the last visit.   However, the bike shop hadn't opened until 10 a.m. that morning, so I knew I would be running short of daylight if my pace dropped.  I climbed steadily to the highest road on the island, and my favorite curving road through Betancuria was just down the other side of the hill.  Stopping at the overlook, which was chock full of other bicyclists and busloads of tourists, I realized that the wind was going to significantly slow my journey back home, and that I probably would end up riding after sunset.  With no light, that wasn't a great idea.  Change of plans.

Luckily, my husband and our friends were out and about in the car, and we agreed to meet at a tiny black sand beach they had discovered the day before.  Heading back to Las Molinas against the wind, I was lucky enough to arrive within minutes of their rental car. We played on the beach for a while, watched the waves crashing high on the cliffs, and then had a late lunch in the tiny unnamed restaurant serving the fresh catch of the day. 

I had saved myself a few minutes by shaving some miles out of my intended route, but I still had a long way of fighting the wind to get back to the hotel.  I left my companions still shooting photos of the waves, and headed out again.  This time is was a very slow pedal back again, going at half the speed and cursing the wind.   But, the roads were wide and smooth, the traffic minimal, and the desert scenery was awesome. 

I do admit to a feeling of relief as I hit the last hill down into town after 67 miles, with cracked lips and a strong desire to escape from the buffeting winds. 



Trying to safely get through the surf into open water



A few days later, I noticed that there was a kayak near the hotel pool, and asked if I could rent it.  The surf and winds had been high all week, so conditions weren't great. But as a future Adventure Racer, I figured I needed all the experience I could get with paddling, as it's harder (and colder) to get into the water in England.  I think it should have been possible for me to take the kayak out to sea and around Isla Los Lobos, which isn't very far away, but the staff convinced me that the conditions and currents would be very rough and quite dangerous.  After getting into the kayak and starting to paddle, I fully agreed with them.  The waves were quite high, and paddling against the wind and surf took a lot of strength.  I'm sure I could have made it out to the island, but getting back might have been another story altogther....

Anyway, I had a rough hour's paddling out into the bay, and then called it a day.   Unfortunately for me, the next morning as we were flying out, the winds dropped and the ocean was much calmer.  I would have had a much easier time of it then...asi es la vida.



My kakak and I getting lost in the waves

View from our airplane window as we were leaving...



Sand dune run to crater summit, Fuerteventura (times 2!)

I won't be in the Sahara this April for the week-long Marathon des Sables, but I thought it would be fun to experiment with how hard it might be to run in the sand.  I have been contemplating running the Marathon des Sables someday, although it is frightfully expensive and also has a long waiting list.  That doesn't stop me from dreaming about it, so a sand run sounded like a great challenge. Luckily, I again found myself visiting Fuerteventura in the Canary Islands.  This time our hotel was right on the edge of Corralejo, with a large area of sand dunes just a few meters away.  


Starting the run was as easy as crossing the road in front of my hotel and heading south.  At the distant end of the dunes was a large crater, which gave me a reference to head for even in the dune valleys. The sand in the dunes was quite firm, as I zig-zagged around a few bushes and cactus.  Winter in the Canary Islands is the wettest part of the year (it's still a very dry desert), and recent rainshowers had caused a few new green shoots to pop out of the sand.  I tried to avoid stepping on any of them, growing things are hard to come by around here.

 

A large crater to head for as I start into the dunes

 There are a few issues with desert running, namely the sun, the heat, the wind, the hot sand, and the blisters.  Out in the dunes, it was windy and sandy, but the clouds kept the sun and heat to a very minimal level.  I think this made it easier to run without getting hot feet and blisters (and I didn't).  The clouds make the dunes very monochromatic, and my depth perception was way off.  It was sometimes hard to tell if the sand in front of me was sloping up or down.  But once in a while the sun would peak out, throwing some wild colors into the dunes with dark blue skies behind them.  It was magical.

The crater's not that far away, why not climb it as well?

As sometimes happens when I head out, the running felt really good, and the end of the dunes appeared way before I was ready to turn around and head back to the hotel.  I decided to turn it into an epic day out.  So I started assessing the volcano crater I had been heading for, wondering if I could make it to the summit as part of my run.  This particular crater sits alongside the road that runs through the dunes, and I had been eyeing it each time we had passed in the car.  So it wasn't entirely a surprise to me that my feet continued heading straight for it. 

To get there, first I had to cross a low ridge of hills covered with jagged volcanic rocks.  They were dark reddish colored, but covered with lively shades of orange lichen.  I concentrated on not breaking my ankles as the rocks rolled around beneath my feet.  Then I came to a cliff overlooking a dry river bed.  It wasn't too high, so I picked my way down along some rocks that had fallen off and made piles along the edge.  The other side of the wadi was the start of the hill, and the slope was pretty gentle, although covered with more small rocks.  There were also all sorts of shells and other strange bones on the ground, although I hadn't seen even one other person out there. 



Shadows in the sand dunes

The wind, which had blown at my back all the way through the dunes, picked up viciously as I neared the horseshoe lip of the summit.  I had great views of the island and ocean, the dunes far below me, and the neighboring islands.  Corralejo and its hotels were tiny specks in the distance.   The wind flapping my windbreaker ensured just a short stay on the summit, though, and then it was a quick run down the side slope and over to the road. 

To continue the feeling of adventure, I crossed the main road and stayed alongside the beach, which wound all the way back around to my hotel.  But I quickly sort of regretted this choice, as the tide was high, and the sand on the beach was soft and very hard to run in.   Unlike the packed sand of the trackless dunes, this had been churned up by countless beachgoers.  With the wind blowing in my face, I was reduced to a walk.  But hey, I was still on a beach on a desert island...it was great watching the waves crash on the shore, and the kiteboarders do their thing out on the water.

My route came out to about 13 miles of sand, sun, wind, and rocks.  It was such an epic journey, that I did it all over again the next afternoon!  And no blisters yet.  Sahara, here I come (someday).





Returning along the beach, with Lanzarote in the distance

View of the crater and some of the dunes from our plane window as we left :(