Monday 23 December 2013

Highlights

It's the end of the year. I started this post earlier, and now it's time to finish it. This time last year I was hobbled with a stress fracture in my foot and wondering what on earth 2013 would be like. One thing I vowed to do once fit again was to race more, and I did that. Mainly fellrunning,  though there have been some unexpected highlights on the hard black stuff too. Lots of fellrunning fulfils my other promise to myself which was to enjoy my running rather then push the mileage. So here they are, my running highlights

Salford 10k - March - new PB
This was my 10k PB attempt after recovery and a fine example of how competition pushes athletes to succeed. My training buddy Caity and I were both gunning for PBs and our clubmates egged us on, not least as I was racing in the colours of my 'road club'. I was ready to use her as a rabbit and mentally up for a slog of a race through some of the less scenic parts of salford. Cold, dry and still conditions at the start and we headed off shoulder to shoulder. She pulled away at 2k but I settled into my natural 10k pace which I'd practised at a club handicap run a few weeks earlier. I caught her at 7k and we muttered encouragement to one another, Caity telling me to pull away and get the win, though by then I was giving it a lot and just hanging on to her pace. I hung on until about 800 to go and she steamed off. I chased again and crossed 4 seconds behind her, we both PB'd. Job done. That's the last time I got that close to Caity as her stellar rise was beginning. She's now up there amongst English fell champions and we have to fight off the teams trying to poach her. She's still a hell of a rabbit to train with.

Back to the fells - March
By January I was capable of running for an hour and I was taking good advice and staying on the cautious side. I had a half marathon in the calendar for the end of March and I was pretty confident I would be up to it by then. Early March I was invited to Wales with the Glossopdalers, to the Rhinogs, a lovely overlooked part of the Snowdonia National Park. I figured I'd join the shorter/slower runs and perhaps have a day off if it felt too much. I'd not run at all on the hills at this point either so I was slightly worried it'd do my foot no good. How wrong could I have been - I managed to stick with the group for 2 of the 4 peaks on the long route and have immense fun in the freshly-fallen snow. I was surprised to spend 4 - 5 hours out in the snow and yet not get cold feet at all. The pace was a good 'social' pace, plenty of stops for photos and navigation, the kind of fell-running which is basically fast hiking. The second day we did a short run up Moel Famau in mid-Wales and to my delight, I managed a good run up it with the group. It was as if I'd never been away from the fells, and set the tone for the rest of the year.




Midweek Madness
In the summertime, all the little village races start to pop up in the calendar. My idea was to toughen up for the triathlon and I thought it'd be a good idea to do a many of them as possible, to get a kind of speed session in once a week or so. There were a good few around and about the peaks and I can't remember how many I did in total but I enjoyed them all with the exception of Goyt's Moss which just seemed to have too much flat/runnable terrain in it. ah...'runnable' ...the bane of the midweek race. It's the stop/start/up/down/walk/run/hurtle which I think appeals to me in the 'short' category races. I think my favourite may have been Cracken Edge, or maybe Hope Wakes..either way I love the social side of the midweek races and had lots of fun with club friends. Got a few bottles of wine for ladies team prizes as well, thanks to the amazing Caity, the super strong and determined Lindsay, and my foolhardiness and competitive streak.

Cross Bay Challenge - Zen running

I had entered but not run this race before. Injury had prevented me from doing it, so I Had Business with the race. I'd spectated before and wondered what it'd be like, running on sand completely exposed to the elements. It's a once a year, tightly scheduled race across the bay which you're only safe to walk on when following a guide. I was frankly afraid it might injure me but I was fit and in the middle of triathlon prep and was really looking forward to running a race as part of the plan. At the start I did my usual sizing up of the competition/nervously eating and checking my gear. I wasn't sure how cold, hot or windy it'd be at all. Anyway the first challenge was that the start was delayed half an hour because 'the tide hadn't gone out fast enough'. Nothing like a reminder of the fact that we were at the mercy of the notorious Morecambe Bay tides to put the willies up us. Anyway, off we went led out by a quad bike. Mud, sticky mud, and lots of standing water. I set off at 8min miles as I felt like pacing it easy and just enjoying the scenery. Running across a massive tidal bay is so quiet. Very quiet, and very peaceful. Even in the fells it's not that peaceful. The view is very samey so I kind of zoned out and became very calm, very good for running. The field quickly strung out and something made me want to greet each person I passed or who passed me, don't know why, I guess it had something to do with the loneliness of the place. After crossing some channels I was joined by a barefoot runner, nice and chatty, and we spied the main river crossing up ahead. We had a right old laugh trying to plough through the water and slowed to a walk as we all had to, the water being waist deep at the middle. Mike and I chatted and I told him I was feeling good, that I reckoned I could catch a couple of ladies, and with his encouragement we drew up to a group ahead containing a veteran lady. I had eaten a little Soreen banana loaf about 45 mins in and took a gel. The ten mile point approached and I felt good, so I bid Mike a 'see you at the finish' and took off in pursuit of a younger runner in a bright vest I could just make out in the distance. I thought I had no chance of catching her but to my surprise I did, in the last mile, and I squelched through the sucky mud at the shore a happy lady. Turns out I was the 'first veteran' which I find an odd prize, as it seems unfair to take a prize which doesn't feel like mine, but I now have a pretty trophy and it rounded off a very enjoyable race. Afterwards I debriefed with a colleague of mine who said she found it tough going underfoot. I think the amount of fell racing I'd been doing has set me up well to cope with that although I wore road shoes because wet ,compacted sand is not soft. The men's winner was a fellrunner too. I'm hoping that my club will have got so fed up hearing me evangelise about this excellent race that it will be in next year's Club Championships races. It's a well organised race with very friendly volunteers, the drinks and safety stations are quad bikes with trailers staffed by local people and their kids. You can even get proper ale at the end and sit by the sea drinking it . Overall a race to make you smile.


Kentmere horseshoe - learning the lakes
It's all well when you're reasonably successful in your backyard and I wanted to see how I matched up in a 'proper's fell race against 'proper' teams. Off to the lakes I went with the Glossopdale crew, feeling a little nervous at the prospect of my first Medium rated fell race on proper Lakeland terrain. I decided that taking it easy was the best option over 12 miles in the heat. I don't think I've ever sweated as much as I did on the ascent up to Yoke via Buck Crag but I found a good pace over the first few tops. I lost my mojo entirely on the first rocky descent and cursed my inner chimp as about five runners passed me. I cursed my inner intestines when I got stitch after a speedy descent  down from high street summit, and two ladies passed me as I gasped and winced along. The last few miles were a fab grassy descent to tracks through farmland and I picked up my pace, knowing the end was close. It wasn't that close, but I felt good enough to catch one lady and hurtled down to the finish and straight into the stream for a cooldown. We all ambled up to the hall for tea and cakes and the presentation. Then someone told us the presentation'd be in the field so we strolled down to hear who had won. We came through the gate to find the prize giving already underway, and the ladies team prize being announced. I know we all thought we'd heard wrong when he said 'glossopdale ladies' ..wow. against real Lakeland clubs! We knew we'd got a strong top ten finish from Caity but mine and Lins' much more humble times, really? A great learning race for me with a lovely surprise at the end, I'm proud of us all for that one race above many others.




Ups and Downs
It's not been all superb success and fun though. I think my worst race was the Rivington Trail Half. A few years ago I ran it and to my surpise was in the top 20 ladies. I thought that given my improving form and my good summer on the hills I'd be in good shape to bother the top 5. Oh yeah pride comes before a fall, the saying goes. I arrived after a week during which I's been feeling a bit snuffly and dizzy, but looking around the size of the field, and knowing from experience that it'd be mainly road runners I still thought I'd be in with a shout. I had a good first mile which is all a steady climb, and did some tricksy tactical overtaking at the end of descents and climbs, but at about 7 miles in I just started to go backwards. I even got a stitch. From there on I just hung on grimly. My time was ten minutes better than last time but I just felt rotten. A lesson learned about setting my sights high, I won't do that again.

It's not only at races that I've had fun. Day-long tours of the region around Bettmeralp on the club holiday, hill reps in Reddish Vale with my clubmate Tom and his dog, off-road  lone ambles along the river Tame in the early morning and a torchlit dash around the local park have all kept me happy. My abiding feeling is that even though I set out just to have fun, I did achieve some good results. I worry that when I push up to marathon distance again in 2014 that I might lose my edge but I'll just have to try and find the right balance.



Friday 15 November 2013

Crepuscular Commuting


This is how I feel most days on my commute. This isn't a rant, it's just rang true and I wanted to share it. It came from a piece by an Aussie cyclist.

"Every time I see a four-wheel-drive or a ute, I expect them to do the unexpected. I seek out eye-contact with oncoming motorists to see if they plan to turn across my path without warning. I keep away from parked cars, fearing I'll be "doored". No matter what speed I ride, my hands are poised above my brakes."

I have to say most drivers I have encountered on the Manchester roads are considerate but there's something about dark winter mornings which seems to make people drive like loons.I got to wondering what my 'riding state of mind' might be doing to my stress levels - I arrive at work all keyed-up and full of adrenalin..then sit a bit zombied at my desk half an hour later. Having said all this I enjoy my  commute as on my bike I have control over my arrival time, and it wakes my legs up and keeps them in nice condition.


Friday 31 May 2013

Turning my back on my first love

Running. My default state of being. Cycling, my new game, my new mode of transport, the challenge to my girly lack of mechanical nous.
I had a stern word with myself at the beginning of May. I had conquered my injury goblin and returned to form, and chucked myself headlong down and up the hills around glossop in the hugely enjoyable midweek fell races the crazy folk of the Peaks usefully and enthusiastically lay on. I did well. But a nagging voice whispered caution. Triathletes are so called, because they tri hard to be good at sports they aren't naturally disposed to, in my case riding a bicycle fast.
My salvation came from two sources. One, the happy realisation that my fell running clubmates also enjoy a spin about t'hills on a fast bike. Not only that, we have a bona fide hardened cycling guru in our number. Rod has a fearsome reputation, so it was with a little trepidation I turned up for a 'social ride' one Saturday morning. All my fears were chucked out with the new shorts I had bought - yes it was still Winter in May - ten of us set off at a chatty pace for romiley and the fabled Policini cyclists cafe. The first major thing I learned was that riding uphill slowly in an easy gear is, well, easy. And nice. Then the whole peloton feeling kicked in. I felt safe, protected, supported, and special. Cars waited politely before passing us, or being waved and nodded on. I can imagine their occupants shaking their heads to one another, "look at those MAMILs, no hang on. That's a bird. Poor lass, oh lots of them are birds.."
Chatting and riding was also a totally new experience. Lovely. It's great to be inducted into a new tribe, and Rod did it just right. He was firm on the rules, which makes perfect sense on the roads, and enthusiastic and confidence-building when it came to technical skills - "go on, right up to her wheel, no Right Up..*pushes me along*..like that. *zoe does face of fear* ...etc.
Don't even get me started on Gilbert cake at Polocini.

So, the other factor. Now I come to it, I can't decide. It's either the weather, or the man I'm spending my time with, who's threatening to beat me in the BUPA ride end of June, but also well up for a date ride.
Thanks to these two things I ticked off two big ticks in May. First : I took Mathilde on the train to the Isle of Arran and rode up and down the coast on a mizzly gusty afternoon, all on my own. I got through it by imagining its much nicer than the wind Marianne Vos must have to ride into. Second tick: rode 40 miles, with Rod's Social Ride Club, including the climb from Ladybower up to Snake Summit, during which I came over all Froomey and shot off up the slope to catch a lone veteran. Silly me, didn't save any matches and blew up on the final pull and let a boy beat me to the top.
So, I feel more prepared for triantics, I feel I can ride properly, I'm getting the hang of the gears, the balance, the shoes, the bollockings for having a mucky bike (sorry Rod) but now there's the pressing matter of the water and its frigidity. Aquathlon time is two weeks off, and my fingers and toes have still not felt the brisk chill of the Quays.
Plates in the air. Always with the plates.

Saturday 30 March 2013

Metamorphosis

The new toy, Mathilde, my red entry-level road bike from Decathlon joined my evolving new personal life in January. The last few years have seen me become fascinated with the sport of road and sometimes track cycling. Injury had forced my hand (legs) into cycling and swimming in the autumn and after a few conversations with trusted rider friends and Twitter training mates I made the switch from flip-flops to asics gels (nice running analogy from @halfflashman)

Since then its been a fairly slow curve getting to know how and what I can and can't do on Mathilde. Slow because, well, I don't understand anything with moving parts and have the spatial awareness of a dead twig. I can proudly say I have a multi-tool ,can adjust the seat position and get the wheels on and off but heaven help me the first time I get a puncture. I also now understand gears. Yes its taken me 36 years.

Here are a few 'novice cyclist' musings, I expect they'll make the hardened roadies laugh and cringe at my ineptitude.

- I now look out the window of motor vehicles down into the kerb, assessing the road surface and mentally noting any 'mordor' type areas.
*I even said out loud 'wow look at this well smooth road' to the bewilderment of my running buddy recently

- putting your right foot down for all the red lights gives you a worrying ache. Must work on bilaterality. See also swimming.

- the nasty ache in your undercarriage only lasts a few weeks

- a wrongly adjusted saddle will give you a nasty ache in a very personal place

- I don't care if a car thinks I'm going too slowly/taking the wrong line/ am merging right too soon. I'm following the highway code. As yet have only been beeped twice though. So thank-you kind drivers in south east Manchester, so far we are not at war.
-I am becoming more au fait with the non-commute use of mathilde. To the pub! To the salon! To Morrison's! Yes, I am a mobile, independent lady. In a mini skirt. And gore-tex. Sexy.

- related to the above. It's comfortable and practical to ride a road bike in a short dress and tights. Summer is going to present some challenges. Big pants? However, for the dirty salty rainy commute I sleepily pull on leggings and baselayer, roll up the mini-dress and stash the girlyshoes at work.

- racing is great. You Don't Have To Stop!! Only done a small club Duathlon so far but woooe I enjoyed the chance to learn about mathilde's cornering and handling. Must learn more

Finally. Gotta get proper pedals for racing.

My next job is to increase my road mileage. Anyone up for a ride?

Thursday 10 January 2013

2013 - The right time to run

A quick post from a jubilant runner. Why so jubilant? The time was right today at noon. The conditions were perfect. Pearly, luminescent sky with a few broody clouds. Still, cold dark canal reflecting the arches and the sky. Calm, quiet, crisp air. A healthy cohort of other runners, from the pink-clad ladies group, to the trying-hard indie kid who restarted guiltily as I approached,  to the stony-faced wiry veterans (nod) in their woolly hats. All smiling inside because we'd chosen to pack the kit, clear the diary and sit in afternoon meetings a little achey today.

When else is it the right time to run? I know we can't always run at the Right Time. Life gets in the way, and the snatched half-hours in the dark on the streets, or the miserable sleet-blasted slog along the familiar hateful paths with a runny nose are the ones we are proud of having done when we cross the line.

The Right Time runs make us elated though. 6am in June, avoiding the heat and flies, watching the dew evaporate off the grass accompanied by orchestras of songbirds. 5.30pm in October counting the full buses of new-term kids and students who aren't getting home any quicker, or logging a training run. 9.30 on a Sunday in February, icicles tinkling to the ground, mist swirling and the trails all to yourself. 9.30 pm in July on the moors watching the sun sink over your working life. These are the runs which keep us going. I hope to run lots of them this year. Happy 2013.