Review

At the run in to 2013 I wrote a post about my goals for the year   In this I had sat down and identified several things which I wanted to achieve during 2013.  I guess they were set to be challenging, a target for the year which is achieved in 2 months is never going to stretch or motivate when the clouds gather and rain is more likely than wall to wall sunshine.
I guess now that we are approaching mid-year it's wise to revisit.

Goal One - Ride Wentwood in  decent Time
hashtag fail.. Crap preparation, crap fitness, crap time, crap crap crap

Goal Two - Ride 2013 milesOk, so at the start of the year this required me to ride 39 miles a week, every week to achieve.  Not a massive distance for roadies, who probably knock out 500 miles a month.  For a slack mountain biker however, this is not the case.  At present I have ridden a grand total of <fanfare> 358 Miles, more a wet fart than a high energy fireworks display I think you would agree.  I do feel confident however, I've started ramping up the mileage and hopefully, with the persistent illness which dogged the start of the year behind me I will start catching up during the next six months.

Goal Three - Learn To Jump
Yeah, still trying, still crap.

Goal Four - Complete a Half IronmanThis is something I still really want to do.  When I discussed it originally with Kate she was quick to reign in my enthusiasm and inject a dose of reality.  We've got a new baby and new babies are renowned for their ability to deliver sleep deprivation with ease.  Training for something as challenging as an 1800m swim, 90k bike and 21k run on minimal shut eye is going to create problems (and is possibly the reason I was struck down by so many bugs during the new year).  I'm still incorporating Running, Swimming and Cycling into my weekly plans however.  I've completed several half marathon distance runs in training already this year and can happily swim sub 30 minute miles whenever I make it to the local pool.  In all honesty though I think that discretion is the better part of valour.  I'm swapping out the half ironman for 2013 and in it's place will sit an imperial century on a bike, possibly by completing this  Still a challenge to someone not used to riding that sort of distance, but something slightly more achievable.  I'm viewing 2013 as a base year however, and will hope that the completion of a half ironman next year will become infinitely more enjoyable with a far increased level of fitness than I can really hope to gain in the time I have remaining before my target event.

Messing about in the woods

Ok, that may sound dodgy, and it won't be helped when I admit that the messing about I'm referring to involves two grown men and video cameras.

Still, with the Muvi HD10 finally doing what I want it to, I've got out with Rex and put this together...


I'm still crap, but at least now I can show how crap I am ;)

The start of something new..?

Silver Time!

When I originally came across the advert for the Wye Valley Warrior Sportive I saw it as an opportunity to get some road miles in ahead of the Tri I had in mind for late August, even better, the 66 mile route would be further than the distance I was going to ride in the race and offer (in my opinion) an ideal chance to see how the training was going.

Given I was going to be spending a fair amount of time among the 'weirdos of the black top' I thought it best I had someone who had some experience (albeit limit, but still significantly more than me) of riding in such events.

Step forward Al, already a partner of Wentwood and just crazy enough to give up half a day to not only spend it in my company but also that of several hundred MAMILs and their expensive accessories.

Al had appeared keen to join me and we had, in true Al / Ian style, spent the week running up to the event talking down fitness, talking up our game and generally not taking the whole thing very seriously.

It's fair to say that our arrival time saw us on the keen side of things and we had about 90 minutes to kill before our distance group could set off.  We managed to fill this time admirably lounging in the early summer sun sipping free coffee and laughing (possibly a little too loudly) and all the fat blokes in full team kit pushing £8k road missiles whilst searching out the cake stand.

I had already owned up to some road riding (a 40 miler two weeks before) just to see how my legs would hold out and received numerous acerbic comments from Al who admitted his own preparation for the event was to pump the tyres up on a road bike which had sat unridden for 18 months and then spend 200yds of a 300yd test ride trying to clip into to his road pedals.  Like I said, we weren't taking it too seriously.

If my training admission had caused Al amusement, pulling my brilliant white roadie shoes out of my kit box resulted in the piss taking being taken to a whole new level, I soon earned the nickname Liberace, and, looking around feeling a little embarrassed I could see that our MTBers attitude was decidedly unwelcome at a roadie convention.

Heading to the start, we faffed with GPS units and enjoyed the last few minutes of quiet before the exertions of the coming hours, our approach may be light hearted to most things, but riding is a serious business and we weren't about to show ourselves up.  The inevitable safety briefing and careful explanation over how  'Arrows' worked and we were off, across the road from the stunning Chepstow race course and the rest of the bunch we were with pulled in to repair a puncture.  We may take the piss but at least we were mechanically sorted.

I found myself out front and we pulled quickly away from the start point, miles being given up by the twisting road which hugs the River Wye.  As was the case with Wentwood, Al reminded me that we need to go slow to go fast, pace ourselves right and we'll fly by the early racers in the latter stages.

10 miles in and we were at the scene of an accident, a rider lying face down and covered in blood, the obvious loser after a disagreement with a car, a large crowd had already formed and we decided to push on, too many cooks and all that.  It was a sobering reminder, as a biker normally concerned with missing trees I needed to be thinking of other road users to.. especially the sunday drivers who wouldn't want to waste 20 seconds so a cyclist could pass safely.

Approaching the turn which would see us hit the first real climb of the day, a group of riders including Rob Lee (link to his blog on the right hand panel) caught and passed us, we'd been a two man convoy for some time so upped the pace and joined their chaingang, whilst they took turns in the front, we slunk around at the back, enjoying the tow and feigning ignorance to the rules of the road.

Turning onto the climb, it's fair to say I let my competitive side have the reins, I know the climb and was probably showing off a little, but I kicked down a few gears and went for it.  A long couple of miles later saw me cresting the hill, I was sat up and spinning when Al pulled alongside.. I admitted to possibly making a tactical error and Al once again started banging on about heart rate zones and eating plans and saving his 'mighty thighs' for an assault on the 'monster hill at 80k'.  I then made a second tactical error, with Al flexing his legs I pointed out the triple chainset sitting on my bike, it's fair to say that gave Al ammunition for the remaining 70 kilometers.

Remember that group that had a puncture? well, now it was our turn, Al's rear tyre had gone  (possibly aided by him bunny hopping off every available pavement) and, pulling in to the roadside, I had to admit that the rather sexy carbon mini-pump I normally had attached to the bike was sitting in the kit box back at Al's car.  Al used his one time only CO2 cannister without issue and we were soon on our way again.  Me kicking myself for my terrible memory and Al sweating slightly as we had 40 miles to go and no means of tyre inflation should the need arise.

I have to admit, as days in the saddle go, this was right up there, I've primarily been an MTBer for the past 10 or so years, but during my late teens and early twenties I spent a lot of time riding road bikes, I've always enjoyed the speed and ability to pass miles under the wheels with such little effort.

As the day progressed I found myself falling in love with road riding again.  Whilst Al was killing me on the on the climbs, I found a lost bravery and pushed hard on the descents, reeling in riders and leaving my brakes alone well past the point other riders were sitting up for corners.

Back in Wales and we were approaching the monster at 80k, not a crap B movie from the 50's but a very real and very big bump in the course profile.  I admit that upon hearing Al exclaim he couldn't even see the top of it on his Garmin, I was quietly (very, very quietly) grateful that I had a triple, I wouldn't have admitted it to Al as he'd have probably ensured I wasn't in the car when he left the car-park and headed for home at the end of the day.

Proudly informing me that his energy bar of choice was used by none other than Sir Bradly Wiggins, I asked how it felt to take a warm and soft Brad in the mouth, I may be getting my arsed kicked, but I was sure as hell not going to let Al have it all his own way, the resulting laugh caused about £2's worth of Wiggins endorsed half chewed energy to be ejected all over his handlebars.

At the bottom of the hill Al suffered cramp, we stopped and whilst Al stretched his legs I downed another Gel shot.

The hill didn't disappoint, whilst my good mate powered on ahead, I ground out the distance, I didn't humiliate myself, but I wouldn't have wanted it to be much longer.  As was the case at Wentwood, the last few miles saw Al go from strength to strength and our last regroup was short lived as yet another hill separated us.

Whilst Al spent the last 10 racing a couple of lads half his age (and winning) I got my head down.  Back at the start finish area with just over 4 hours on the clock, I was presented with my finishers medal and we sat  drinking yet more expensive energy products whilst planning our next road adventure.

It's going to be an imperial century and I can't wait...

YES I CAN

So said Eddie Murphey in The Nutty Professor to aide his weight loss and beat his slim evil self.
It also sprung to mind for me over a small piece of trail that I've recently had issues with.
I was out with Jamer for a Saturday afternoon ride, we've both got cameras to capture our riding and a few hours saw us get enough footage for this;

And that bit right at the end is what originally brought good ol' Eddie's mantra to mind.
The trail in question is called the Serpent, a snaking singletrack that drops from the highest point of Penyard hill (visible from our bedroom window) 260 vertical feet lost over the space of 1/3mile.  Quick, jumpy and rewarding it's a favourite already amongst many of my mates.

The sting in it's tail is a drop, vertical at the top and exposed to the right, the run in is blind and the first thing noticeable is that exposure, quickly followed by large uncovered rocks on the left.  The drop turns immediately down the trail into nothing leaving no room for error.  It has already been blackballed by Strava so no leaderboard is possible, I've said it before, I ride with some fantastic riders, the fact that we all know who and who hasn't, done that final section speaks volumes over the toughness of it.

Whilst Jamer effortlessly floats down it in the video, that was his second attempt, during his first he buzzed his back wheel with his gentleman sausage and padded the rocks with his foot.  Returning to where we were starting our run in, he was visibily shaking.  Even after getting down it with certain style he was adamant that he had no intention of doing it again.

Each time I've ridden Serpent to date the trail has been soaking wet, as such, everyone has pulled up short and taken the 'chicken run' although this is steep and if anything even more exposed than what we're trying to avoid, it's really only doable on foot.
That's bugged me, much as I love Serpent I'm never able to ride competely in the moment due to the growing feeling of unease in the pit of my stomach, previously assuming I'm nesh I've kept quiet, but the crash appears to have loosened tongues and this feeling of "oh hell, that drop is coming up" is more common than I thought.

With the camera running I ran in twice, each time my hands pulling on the brakes without any instruction from my brain.  Getting frustrated with myself I set up a third run, this time carrying too much speed, the results are there for all to see.  Smiling as I might be when I sit up, I was deeply frustrated.  I hauled my bike back up to the start and had another go.
This time my brain gave the STOP signal loud and clear.  I had to admit it that I had beaten myself.
We carried on the ride, I was annoyed, the gnawing anger wouldn't leave, getting home I shared the results of the ride with Kate, editing the clips together only heightened my annoyance.  Lying in bed that night I was replaying that 30ft of trail over and over.

By Sunday evening Kate was asking Jamer to get me back up the woods and not let me leave until I had sorted it.

My next opportunity was Wednesday, I was as nervous as a teenager on a first date.  At the start of the trail I was "Yes I can"ing myself to death, I had visualised the run in, the feeling of the bike, how it would feel to be down.  It didn't start well and I had a 'moment' on the largest of the jumps in the middle section, scrubbing it from memory I get back onto Jamers rear wheel, down the first drop without incident, palms sweaty and mouth dry I approach the run in, sharp left, down to the blind lip and bum back, perfectly aligned I holler my victory, down the final chute, two drops and I'm on the fire road, fist pumping.

I can't wait to try again...

Here we go again..

Question;
What is the best preparation for a challenging 50k?

I guess the correct answer would be sleep, focused training, the avoidance of injury and a period of tapering in the week before.
I say 'I guess' because my preparation for the first event of the year consisted of illness, pitiful amounts of mileage off road and a three day business trip to Germany.
Sitting in the taxi as it screamed down the autobahn at well over a hundred miles an hour I had a short opportunity to contemplate the irony that as a rare amount of sun dried the trails in the UK, I was due to be sat several countries away unable to swing a leg over my bike to get some last minute training in.
Irony squared dictated that upon my return to Blighty a bloke with a beard will be collecting animals in pairs and starting sea trials of his newly finished Ark.
Wentwood sells itself as a tough event, when Al asked me what tyres would be good I suggested that if it rained tyres wouldn't make a difference as the whole thing would be an utter bastard. A few days of sun got me hoping that low levels of bike time would be countered by dusty trails.
You know I mentioned irony? He's got a big evil brother, who seems particularly happy when handing out colds, usually to the poor suckers who really don't want one (or even three, which, for those of you who may be keeping score is the number of colds i have currently had to date during 2013, that omits the fortnights worth of chest infection, in fact, whilst I have your attention and haven't as yet closed the brackets which is giving me this chance of an aside, I'm considering changing the miles ridden for the year to 'quantity of snot produced', number of the times I have said 'I hate being ill' or telling a cold to piss off and bother someone else, but, I digress, monumentally).

For the last couple of years my events calendar has been kicked off by the Goshawk Enduro, or Wentwood 50 as it seems to be alternately called.  Whilst the event as numerous names, it has only one goal, provide its riders a hell of a day in the saddle, early in the year over some fantastic, closed most of the times trails, ok, that maybe three, but read it quick and save me the job of choosing which two to delete.
My previous blog entries to the event will attest to the toughness of the course, a good showing on the day would set you in a positive frame of mind for the rest of the year (although this is a theory, as I am still waiting my 'good showing' at Wentwood).
I started the year with plenty of good intentions and goals, one of which was to arrive at Wentwood, storm round the course and finish in around 3 1/2 hours What actually happened was slightly more painful;
I lift shared with Al, and, on the morning of the event awoke to find sub zero temperatures embracing the countryside.  En-route to the event car park I made sure Al was well aware of my current ailments in what I like to consider an essential pre-ride ritual when not on top form.  Al meanwhile looked fit and healthy, brimming with confidence and proudly telling me of his ride strategy.. start slow, ignore his normal Jeremy Clarkson attitude of screaming 'POWER' and giving the first fifteen minutes full beans and to eat regularly, when he started talking heart rate zones I began contemplating whether he would notice if I opened the door and jumped from the moving car, rationing that it was likely to hurt less and be over quicker.
The car park was filling quickly when we arrived, the event's already legendary organisation was clear as helpers were laying straw in the carpark entrance to prevent cars later becoming stuck.
The car thermometer read -2 and, once we had registered we both made a beeline back to the car and its heaters to delay the inevitable freeze your nuts off bike prep that is essential regardless of how organised you are upon arriving at any event.
I love riding with Al, we don't do it often but every meet leaves me laughing far more than should be allowed when surrounded by fat middle aged blokes dressed in far too much lycra, he has an acerbic wit and happily drops into rant mode at the slightest excuse. Whilst we both sat watching bikers wrestle with kit and clothing we both complained about the weather and our decision to ride, to misquote Shakespeare, me think these riders doth complain too much.
Deciding that any race* strategy involving us requires a place on the starting grid just behind the bloke responsible for picking up rubbish we waited in the sub zero temperature, Al switching up another gear with excitement over the alarm set to chime every 20 minutes to remind him to eat the pre-prepared bite size energy bars and me to wonder whether I was wearing enough layers considering I had already lost the feeling in my legs below the point my 3/4 bibs ended and trying to calculate how many 20 minutes there were going to be in 5 hours.
With the starting gun came the 5 mile road warm up and the realisation from both of us that we should have had a piss before lining up.  Al proclaimed he had the prostate of a 40 year old and I had to agree I did too, well, I would of had I not been wondering exactly why I didn't visit the little boys room considering every time a crank reached the up position my thighs compressed my bladder enough to make my eyes cross.
Getting to the start of the off road section and it was quickly apparent that the organisers had swapped things round heavily. My mental map from 2012 was quickly outdated and I consigned myself to hanging on and enjoying what was in front of me at that moment, rather than trying to second guess what I would ride round the next corner I felt good hitting the first sinewy sections of singletrack and made good use of the undergrowth in overtaking manoeuvres best described as iffy.
I'll say it now, Wentwood is a bloody gem, the trails are fantastic on the whole and appear to have survived the harsh winter without significant damage, the only thing spoiling it for us were the riders we were amongst who hadn't realised that mountain bike events tend to consist of off road trails, we aren't xc racers but both of us are able to more than hold our own on trails and we found it frustrating to have singletrack spoiled by slow riders up front who seemingly have no understanding of the people behind them, seriously, what idiot would just randomly swap from one side of a steep muddy chute to another without at least some form of check over their shoulder? In my defence though, I couldn't see Al at the time and did apologise straightaway.
I have a hill in Wentwood which is my mental nemesis, this thing is a long drag up fire road followed by a brutally steep road section to finish, its held a place in my head since last year when I approached it with 45km in my legs. This year it marked the final run in to the 25km marker and as soon as I realised where we were and what was to come my mind defeated my body.  Arriving at the feed station a minute or so behind Al I was beginning to realise that my endurance had been severely affected by the seemingly endless rounds of colds, the full 50k wasn't in question but I knew that to get to full distance was going to involve a fair amount of pain.
I read a cracking two part mantra recently, 'No matter how bad you feel, keep moving forward', the second part goes 'When you can't race, repair yourself'.. in other words, eat and drink.. the stuff we ignore when the competitive juices are flowing freely and you are chasing down the riders in front.  Now was that time, I made an effort to eat the bars and gels I had in my pack, washing them down with water laden with nunn tablets. Al was waiting at the end of the section and pulled no punches in his summary of the trail, I seem to remember a willingness to slam his wedding tackle in a heavy door before roding it again.
Pain is inevitable, as the saying goes, suffering is optional. I was determined to keep on smiling but I could tell as the miles racked up that Al was being generous by dropping his pace to match my own. At around 35k I finally relented and entered the dark place which waits for us all during times of tough exertion. A long traverse across deep mud which seemed impassable sapped me of positive thoughts, reaching the halfway point I came across several riders who had simply stopped to rest.  This filled me with confidence so I took heart and plodded on.
The 50k had 1600m of climbing in it, the first 25 accounted for around 1200 of that. Technically we had broken the back of the climbing, I think it had returned the favour and I found myself reduced to a crawl on many of the climbs.  This years course kept on giving though and more singletrack repayed the struggle.
I had urged Al to go on, I could tell he wanted to test himself and I was feeling increasingly guilty about holding him up. He showed the chasm in fitness which separated us and quickly pulled away.  Now left to my own thoughts I was determined to finish in good spirits.. 15k.. 9 miles.. I was running that a few weeks before and not feeling it the following day.
I was going to feel this though.
2013 for me has been plagued by illness, I had a similar few months after starting my last new job, I put it down to living in two areas of the country and being exposed to so many bugs, now I think it was down to tiredness and stress.

With mounting distance came mounting struggle, my body was succumbing to yet another cold and there was chuff all I could do about it but grin and bear it.  Succumbing, but I wasn't beat, I could see a group of riders behind me, my mate might have left me in his wake but I wasn't going to get done by a bunch of strangers at this stage.

I reached a lad stood in the forest dress in hi-viz stamping his feet and hugging himself against the cold. 

"I'm the last marshall mate, keep it going you're nearly there"

How many have come through I asked? I was trying to salve my pride

"Dunno, not many" he replied, "I reckon that's the sweeper though".. he nodded down the trail to the yellow jacket wearing rider that had been tailing me for the last few miles

'Kin 'ell.. kill me now, I've been slow before but never fucking last, my nano second of analysis of my piss poor performance and potential sale of all biking kit once I got home was interrupted by an update..

"Actually, scrap that mate, i can see a good half dozen riders behind him"

I thanked him, for the good news and the stirling event and pressed on.

A final climb and the glorious 5k descent to the end which is trademark Wentwood.

Into the carpark once again and Al was sat in the car, with the heaters on, he helped me load the bike whilst I wearily changed and we were soon on our way home.

Al was full of excitement, this was proof that all of his hardwork was pushing him in the right direction, I remained quiet, a mixture of disappointment and extreme tiredness enveloped me as Al pointed us homeward.  I was pleased for him, recommending an event which requires a mate to hand over cash is a risk, I was glad he liked it and would be back again, I didn't mind the weapons grade kicking he or the course had given me.

There'll be other rides and other years, lose the battle, win the war

*its not a race I insisted, far bloody from it as it turned out

Fall down 6 times, get up 7

I know what I said, no easy outs and plenty of structure.

Thing is, the man with the plan has decided to have a little fun and its seemingly at my expense.

As the saying goes though, if you fall six times, you must get up seven.

The tight chest I mentioned in my last post was diagnosed as a chest infection.  A course of antibiotics later and I am starting on the road to recovery-ville.  That is until the follow up cold made itself known anyway, gained fitness was lost, then gained and lost again and before I can say pissoffcoldyouareboringmeknow three weeks as passed with only a few miles of running under my belt.

I got out for a ride last weekend and actually felt pretty good.  Reading my Wentwood 50 partners tweets about new bikes and reucing waistlines did little for either my confidence or mood however and a piss poor 9 miles in the saddle is unlikely to have Al worried about keeping up.  More likely that he'll be packing the emergency oxygen tent and ensuring he has the number of the local air ambulance in his phone just in case I get a relapse.

This week I have managed a few runs, including a session of hill reps and a long run yesterday which saw me ticking off just over 10 miles in an hour and 20 minutes.  Something has to be working because that is quicker than I was managing a few weeks out from the last half marathon I ran.

So, I may not be completely doomed to failure for my quicker time for Wentwood,  I just need a few good weeks of training without succumbing to the next bug that is doing the rounds, wall to wall sunshine and for everone else to get the date wrong.

;)

30%

That's what I felt my lung function has been since the weekend. The cold I've had since Christmas has finally caught up with me.  Despite my best effort to ignore it and crack on, the chesty cough, previously an annoyance has finally showed its strength.

Last week I ran 10 miles, 10 miles through snow and strong wind, it appealed to my love of tough conditions and I ran happily, even though I was tired I felt reasonably strong throughout, getting home my legs were tired but after a few minutes I felt refreshed.. definitely a good sign.

Saturday I ran again, even though my schedule advised a rest day and my arms ached enough following my swim Friday night to keep me awake.  Considering I managed a 10 miler only a few days previous I really struggled, 2 miles in I was reduced to walking for a minute or so at a time.  We had a hugely busy weekend, with several birthday parties requiring drives in between, during a brief respite on saturday I snuck off to bed and immediately dropped into a dreamless sleep.

Sunday was a struggle and my cough seemed to be getting worse, with monday came my planned 30 minute run;

Getting up took willpower but I'm determined this year to avoid excuses and easy get outs, through the door and I tried to get into my normal rhythm without success, by the time I had covered 1/4 mile I was questioning my 'no easy outs' policy, another 1/4 mil and I was stopped, bent over and struggling for breath, realising the futility of my situation I headed home, within minutes of getting through the front door I was in bed and asleep.  When Kate's alarm went off I failed to surface.  Deciding I just needed to rest I stayed home, I slept huge amounts with little improvement and settled for a second day at home.  When walking to the kitchen from the lounge left me out of breath I decided that maybe I needed a second opinion. 

The doc has diagnosed a chest infection which explains the breathlessness and general lethargy.   A course of antibiotics will hopefully have me back on the road before long.