Tall Scientist

Great North Run - out of 10 you're a 13.1

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Wed, 10 Sep 2025 14:44:00 +0000

So if you know me I have been having an issue with my ankle now for a year and a half. This was caused by sinus tarsi. Last November I also managed to trip over my own front door, which made my ankle blow up and I injured my peroneal tendon. D'oh. So this year has been mostly one of rehab and physio visits. In May, I started work as a swimming teacher which is very active and involves a lot of walking, and I think that has really contributed towards the rehab process. I hesitate to say healing as I'm sure it's still there, I live in hope I'll be able to wear nice shoes again one day (shoes that have any kind of arch support seem to be trainers or very solid sandals...). Due to this, I had done very little training for the Great North Run, for a long while I was considering just deferring to next year. However, we'd booked the tickets, I'd done a four hour walk that was zero fun in training (!), so off we went to Newcastle.

Just a note that there is going to be a bit of moaning here about the transport to and from the event. We had to leave just after 8 to catch a bus to Newcastle, as they only run every hour from where we were staying in Blyth. Yes, we probably could have caught the 9:20 bus, but that might have been cancelled/full, and wasn't worth the risk. Thankfully, the bus we caught ran on time and took us nicely all the way to Haymarket where the start was. The toilet situation wasn't great either. Big queues on Town Moor, and then zero toilet options once we were on our way to the start/in the pens. There were a lot of people using the bushes, which isn't good. There was a lot of walking to the start - I looked at my watch and by the time I had threaded my way to the start I had already done 6000 steps! There were some amazing outfits though - I saw two people dressed as ovaries and a couple of women with breasts on their backs were on the TV - complete with squeaking nipples 😂. We saw the Red Arrows speeding over which was amazing and weirdly emotional, not helped by some poor bloke on the TV who had just lost his parent recently...

We had to walk past the start, then about another couple of km to the end of the queues waiting to start, then back to the start again...

So after leaving Stuart at 10:45, I finally started the Great North Run at 12:34. It was very busy to start with, I'd chosen the "left" side, where you go under the bridge, which started off a whole round of "oggy oggy oggy"... There was even someone with a sign saying "You're (kinda) nearly there"! within the first km! This was the first lie of the run... It was super busy, and I was trying my best to do my slow run/walk on the left as instructed, but yet I still had people barging past me or running on the pavement next to me to get past, it was pretty annoying! We went over the Tyne Bridge, which was epic, even if it does look like it needs a bit of paint closer up. Then we were running through Gateshead. Pretty soon I had to "go", as it had been several hours of waiting to start. There was a queue at the first row of portaloos I went past, so I decided to keep going to the next one. Unfortunately at the next one, there was only one loo available so I had to wait around 12 minutes, which really ate into my run time! Annoyingly probably about another 10 minutes down the road was a whole row of portaloos with no queue! At least stopping meant the road cleared a bit and it wasn't so busy on the road. At the aid station I had a bottle of water thrust into my hand, like I had to take it! The crowds were epic, everyone was offering me sweets, to the point where I had a few too many jelly babies and felt a bit sick! There was a bridge that said "Cheer if you're having fun" and I realised, I was actually having fun for a change!

Probably at about mile 7 - half way - the wheels started to come off. We were "running" down a dual carriageway with very little support (apart from the odd driver honking their horn on the other side of the road). I got out the bottle of coke I'd placed in my running vest for this situation, which was definitely a good idea. We went past this drag act who looked fabulous and as I shuffled past them I said "you're almost as tall as me" which they replied "I love that!". I have no idea why I said that to them!

Every day I'm shuffling - just after the half way point, you can see the bottle of coke in one of my pockets...

I was overtaking and being overtaken by a guy called David, who had a "in memory of" T-shirt on, he asked me how I was doing at one point and I said "feeling the chafe". I think that put him off chatting to me again (!), sorry David. I hadn't put any lube on my thighs - error on my part, given I was wearing shorts. I wanted to go ask the St Johns Ambulance people if they had any Vaseline, but was worried if I stopped I would never finish the race. So I kept on going. The final gradual climb was long and painful. I was mostly walking by this stage, as my legs were protesting. I had someone come up to me and ask if I wanted to chat. I didn't really, but I was polite... It had started to rain and there were some massive sprinklers on the road, ones that you couldn't avoid, so while we were trying to deal with rain from above I was also trying to go to the furthest side away from the sprinklers! I missed the free beer near the end, but I wouldn't have wanted a can of lager anyway - yuk! Finally the top of the hill came into view, I asked someone if that was actually the top or if it was a false summit, thankfully it was the top and then there was an interesting downhill and you could see the sea! Yay! The final mile was a painful affair but I was happy I was nearly there and it was flat! Everything was sore, especially my hip for some reason. We were directed off the road on to the grass and there was the finish line! I'd finished in under 4 hours!

Absolutely finished

I would include here a massive moan about how terrible it was to try and get home through the crowds, or how my poor body completely crashed post-event and I ended up passing out trying to exit the train at Newcastle Central, but instead I will leave with a thank you to Stuart for his support, sorry but I'm sure I'll be doing another half marathon again, but next time with a bit more training! Also a thank you to my mother in law Lillian for putting us up as always. Plus thank you to Coach T for her support despite the lack of training...

Belgium 70.3: Off, off, off with your head; Dance, dance, dance til you're dead

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Wed, 11 Sep 2024 10:09:00 +0000

I know I've been quiet on here this year. I did Ride London again, but my race report for that was essentially "sheer bloody agony. Agony. Agony. I think I broke my foot." Side note, I did not break my foot or have a stress fracture, I have this very annoying thing called sinus tarsi syndrome, which causes a tiny swelling but a LOT of pain and has essentially made me unable to do any running this year beyond 5k. I ended up doing two aquabikes in the summer, the Bridge sprint (where I came third!) and Midnightman half, where I came first and last in the aquabike 😂.

Anyway, on to Belgium. I'd spent most of the week before with massive anxiety. I was worried about the race as well as driving on the other side of the road, as I'd not done it in my car before. This caused me to sleep badly and my HRV was very low (this apparently is not good). It didn't help that my gear cable snapped on Sunday before the race, causing me to get a train home, which was annoying. Luckily Ben from Pink Cycles was able to fit a new cable and instructions to be more careful with putting the bike in the car, where the cable was rubbing. Bob the bike had a pillow to rest on as a result on its way to and from Belgium 😂. The drive in the end was fine, apart from the driving rain and the lorries spraying water, which was horrid.

We racked our bikes on the Saturday, and there were a couple of loud bangs from other tyres, so we decided to let our tyres down a bit. Transition was split, so we checked the swim, which had this massive fountain which I hoped would be turned off the next day. Then we got on the bus to T2. We spent a bit more time there, checking out the bike in and where we would rack our bikes, before I walked back into town with Martin. The night rolled by with thunderstorms and more terrible sleep for me.

Sunday morning started fresh and clear. I walked to the casino to catch the bus. A few Tritons joined me and we travelled to T1. Once there, I sorted my bottles and actually remembered to break up my food into my bento box. I checked out the bike exit and then stood in a very slow portaloo queue. We then stood for a long time in our swim pens waiting for the start.

Swim: Bun fight plus weeds

We were set off four at a time off a pontoon. I dived off, my goggles did dislodge a bit so I had to quickly remove the water. For some reason I found the racing line which meant that people behind me that were faster kept trying to swim over me. It was absolute carnage. I ended up kicking more than I normally would to stop people from trying to swim over me. It did get a bit better once we got round the corner, but that was when the weeds started. Every arm seemed to gather weeds as I tried hard to swim straight (I actually think the course was slightly wonky because I kept finding myself almost in the middle rope!). It seemed forever to get to the turning with the fountain, which they hadn't turned off... Round the corner and another turn back to the fountain. We had to swim under this huge plume of water, which I wasn't able to breathe in... The exit was ahead, I got out and then we had to go over a bridge to get to transition.

Transition was busy, but I couldn't see any Tritons, so I tried to quickly get my wetsuit off and my bike gear on. I'd tried to put some kinesiology tape round my ankle to support it, but unfortunately all the kicking must have loosened it, and I just had to take it off. I just got new cycling shoes and found they were almost impossible to run in without causing myself an injury. When I got to the bike, it was the only one left so I assumed that all the other Tritons were out on the bike course. We had to exit via cobbles which was not fun with my bike shoes, but after 10 minutes of faffing (still in the Gary Shaw school for transition, clearly) I finally got to the mount line and on my bike.

Bike: Off, off, off with your head; Dance, dance dance til you're dead

So I had a bike fit just over a week before this event, and I hadn't really biked much since then. I was more comfortable on the bike than I had been for a while, but I was felt much slower than everyone else, as people kept coming past me and the only people I overtook were an old couple on their bikes (not in the race)! The wind was a major factor. It was just relentless. You can see on my ride track how much faster I was in one direction vs going the other way. Unfortunately for me the slower way seemed to be most of the route 😔. It was flat flat, so I was pedalling all the way, with the odd stand up out of the pedals to stretch. At least with the bike fit I was much more comfortable on my saddle, however my hands did get sore after a while and I spent a bit of time trying to shake them off. The ride was mostly on side roads and bike paths, which was really interesting and made me a bit jealous of their great cycling infrastructure. The first aid station came up really quickly, so I refilled my water bottle, had a quick stretch and off I went again. I think this is when I started to be buffeted by the wind the most. I am like a sail in the wind, as due to stupid balance issues I can't get on to the drops and I definitely do not have aero bars... Peter came past me, saying "see you on the run", I was thinking "I'm not sure I'll make it to the run"! I was very impressed he was riding still with his pannier rack on the back, making it look easy! Stephen came past me, then slowed down, so I overtook him, he overtook me, then he had to stop to stretch while I navigated past some cobbles (thankfully there weren't many of these on the course!). I was so glad he'd managed to get through the swim and onto the bike. Finally he cycled off into the distance while I kept pootling on. My ankle started to hurt, and it was nearly time to take my second dose of paracetamol. I stopped briefly to do that, then carried on my way. Leyla came past me, so there were Tritons behind me, I just didn't realise it. Finally I got to the second aid station, more topping up my water bottle and stretching. I shook my head at the helper and complained about the wind, but he said "it's just going to continue". Thanks mate.

Garmin track of my bike leg. You can clearly see one way is faster than the other!

In the final section, my burning feet returned. I was really hoping the bike fit would help this and stop it, but apparently not. I had to try and take my feet out of the pedals and give them a shake to try and lessen the pain, it was awful. The right foot didn't want to come out at all, but finally it did and I gave it a shake. I was determined not to stop again until I got to the final aid station. Once there, I tried to shake everything out as well as filling up my water bottle for the final time. I did find a bit of speed for the last few km (thanks wind) and FINALLY the dismount line came into view. The "bike in" was past a weird grassed kids' playing area, after that I dropped my bike off and started hobbling towards the bags. Someone asked me if I was OK and a medic was dispatched to help me. She gave me an ice pack after I explained the stupid ankle issue and asked me if I really wanted to go out on the run. I said I had to try. So I put my trainers on, had my customary T2 wee (but this time without any drama) and I was off on the run.

The run: a step too far?

Out of transition and it was very warm. The sun had come out and it was hard work through the park to the run on the promenade. I saw Stuart for the first time, he looked a bit cross (apparently he was worried because I'd taken so much time in T2, which is usually quick). I ran on onto the promenade. It was great to see lots of Tritons, and I had a lot of random people on the side of the road shouting stuff to me in Belgian... I don't speak a word so I have absolutely no idea what they were saying. I think they were trying to be encouraging, but when you have to walk because your ankle is in pain, it wasn't very helpful. My ankle felt like there were knives going into it, and I was really suffering. Every time I tried to run it hurt. I was worried I'd end up doing myself a long-term injury. I really wanted to do the full run, but accepted that I would probably have to do one lap and then DNF myself. After six months of only being able to do short walks and the occasional Parkrun, I was not prepared for a half marathon. I was in pain, it was very hot, and finally I got back to Stuart after yet more people attempting to "cheer" me on (I was not finding it helpful at all because they didn't seem to understand that I HAD to walk and didn't have much of a choice). I said to Stuart, I think I have to finish, I can't run, it feels like daggers in my foot. So I asked a helper and he said I could run down the finish line.

I run down the finish line, not feeling elated, everyone is cheering me on, they announce my name, it feels very odd. I haven't deserved this, I don't deserve the medal they hang round my neck. It feels like cheating. Once again, the curse of the IM 70.3 has hit. I don't think I'm going to do another one for a while until I can get myself properly fit and ankle/foot issues sorted.

As always I have to thank my lovely husband Stuart, who supported me up to the race and on race day itself. Also Coach T, who has tried her hardest to coach me through jury service and stupid ankle issues. I'm sorry I didn't do the strength training you put in every week. Also to the Tritons, you bunch of social people with a triathlon problem.

At least this was a PB 😂😂😂

No, you really don't want my legs

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Wed, 24 Jan 2024 18:25:00 +0000

I was inspired by other writers on Substack to write something. I'm sharing on here too because why the hell not?

So I'm a tall woman, 6’3, 99th percentile yadda yadda yadda. My inside leg measurement is 36 inches. Every now and then I get people coming up to me.

Example one:

“Ooh, you're really tall! Can I have some of your legs?”

Me, taken aback “Er… no”

“But I just want a little bit”

Does this person expect me to go under the knife and donate some leg to her? As an aside, it's always women.

Example two:

“I wish I had legs like yours”

Me “Er, no you don't. It's incredibly hard to find trousers that fit”

“I'm sure it's not that difficult.”

These people have not gone into a shop and tried to find extra (extra) long ladies’ trousers. This is because YOU WILL NOT FIND THEM. Next time, have a look. Nowhere.

You. Do. Not. Want. My. Legs.

They are mine. MINE.

Vignette 5: Swim Serpentine

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Tue, 19 Sep 2023 14:30:00 +0000

Swim Serpentine was my final event of the season. I was supposed to do it last year, but it was cancelled due to the link between Hyde Park and the Queen's death. I deferred and all was going well until the random heatwave and the concerns over blue green algae. It seems they regularly have to wash out the lake before the event to make sure that the levels are within swimmable threshold. This year that wasn't working/helping and on Tuesday they put out a message on Facebook that they had concerns that the levels would not be safe and that they would let us know by Wednesday 17:00. No email or anything else. Wednesday 17:00 came and went and there was nothing. Eventually they did put up a message saying they still had concerns and they would let us know by Thursday 18:00. Thursday morning they finally sent out an email saying the same thing. They finally decided that the thresholds were just about within swimmable limits on Thursday evening and that the swim was a go. We had another email on Friday morning with the final tests:

I decided it was now or never, I wasn't going to defer another year. Many of my friends decided not to risk it, which was fair.

After all my chafing last week, I was very careful to make sure I had enough on my neck. I also have a stupidly large head and they were advertising larger hats in the information tent, so I went to ask them. They didn't have any red hats so I ended up with an orange one. Best. Hat. Ever. I am going to be wearing that hat until it dies.

I was wearing skins again, the water temperature was 21 degrees, but less of the random cold spots than last time. I was desperately trying not to drink the water but it was pretty disgusting (I stank afterwards!). It was much much busier than last week and there were people everywhere - many unable it seems to swim in a straight line so would zig zag in front of you. I also had a kayaker cut right in front of me at one point! It was pretty hard to figure out where you were going with the buoys being purple (not the best colour for visibility!). Near the end I did get confused and managed to kick the bottom of the lake - got a bit too close to the shore!

When I got out, I discovered that I had green slunge all over the inside of my trisuit - gross! It absolutely stank as well, everything had to go in the wash. I looked over my Strava stats and it was telling me I'd got a 2 minute PB from last time - no way! Yes way!

On my way home my eyes went weirdly blurry and I had a runny nose. Got home to find I had red eyes with nasty yellow goo :/. Thankfully it cleared up the next day but it was very painful. I couldn't stop sneezing either so must have had some kind of allergic reaction to the water.

Vignette 4: Dock2Dock 10km: A Bridge Too Far

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Tue, 19 Sep 2023 10:37:00 +0000

So here we were, the hottest day of the year, about to start a 10km swim. The day before they'd told us that it was (barely) wetsuit legal, as previously there was a possibility that wetsuits would not be allowed on the day. The UK had experienced the hottest September week on record, and the water temperature had risen to 23.5 degrees - wetsuits become illegal at 24.

Gary and I at the start.

I decided to go without my wetsuit, as I overheat at the best of times. I think this was the right choice, as although there was the odd cold spot most of the time the water was nice and warm. The course took us down to Ben at the LOW aid station. This seemed to take forever and the footbridge never seemed to get any closer. It was nice to see Nick too as I haven't seen him all summer.

I barely noticed the second station until I was right on it, but this was when I first met two ladies who I then spent the rest of my swim following them. The swim past the airport also seemed to take forever, and then, back down past the university buildings and our own food station before going past the Excel... very... slowly... I had ongoing cramp in my leg which I tried to help with fluids at each stop, but I now think this was a sign of dehydration. Back down past the bridges, why did I decide to do the 10k? My neck was hurting too from my suit rubbing, despite layering on the lube. I got ahead of the two ladies on the straight towards the airport but then lost time refueling at the last aid station. Although I finished behind them, I discovered I was ahead of them on time.

Unfortunately as I got out I managed to scrape my grazed knee from my clumsy fall the week before. Now there are two things that are almost guaranteed to make me pass out, those are heat and blood (even a little bit). So when I finally got to the changing area I felt terrible. Poor Gary had to come back and check on me (thanks Gary!), but we did get to see Ian struggle through his last km before being directed out of the water.

Afterwards for a few days I suffered with very painful chafing including this bizarre one from the wristband:

I also saw this T-shirt, which pretty much summarises my experience:

Vignette 3: Cotswolds 113: I don't know but I've been told, this triathlon is getting very old

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Sat, 16 Sep 2023 19:52:00 +0000

The swim: the only swim this year I actually did in my wetsuit. I felt terribly sick, probably because I'd tried to eat too close to the start of the swim. I wanted to stop so many times and hang on to a kayak but I ploughed on. I made the turn at the purple buoy and ended up turning towards the wrong yellow buoy 😖. Luckily a nice kayaker steered me in the right direction. I was very slow.

The bike

It was initially very cold, and I did regret not bringing my jacket. My bottle said "Do it for cider and cake" well, I added "and a hot bath" as another carrot/temptation to keep me going. There was a dead dear on the side of the road which I discovered later had caused an issue that morning, but they'd managed to drag it out of the road. We went past an airplane graveyard, then there was the aid station. So I only discovered the night before that the aid station was about a third of the way through the lap and not at the end of the lap. I'd discussed good and bad decisions with my coach and felt it was a good decision to stop for water and a quick stretch. About half way round my first lap I realised I couldn't change up at the front, which was a bit of an issue on a flat course where I just wanted to put the power down (well as much power as I had anyway!). I tried to figure out whether this was a situation where I should stop at the mechanic or not, and decided in favour of stopping just in case he could help. Well, thankfully he could, and 10 minutes later I was back on the road with a fully functioning big ring. Made it round the first lap, and onto the quieter second lap, back past the dead deer, the airplane graveyard and the aid station. Once on my way from the aid station, the front derailleur wire then decided to ping out of its little home and was hitting my leg on every pedal. The photographer was just ahead of me so I couldn't stop so I went past him attempting to smile and then stopped just beyond his car. He checked on me but I was fine, and managed to get the stupid wire back in it's holder for the rest of the ride. It had got hot by the time I finished my ride and I no longer wanted a hot bath!

The run

I'd had issues (pain when walking) with my left calf for a week or so before the race, and no matter of rolling/putting it up etc had helped. Neither had driving from London to the Cotswolds. On the ride I'd taken some paracetamol, which kinda dulled it a bit. The first lap is always about trying to keep out the way of the faster runners, finding out what goodies are available at the aid stations and this time around, regretting I hadn't brought my hydration pack with me because it was hot. The second lap was absolute AGONY. My calf went and I could barely walk, let alone run. Thankfully it started to drizzle a bit so it wasn't so hot. I went past Ian, who was (mid race) deep in discussion with some divers, remarking "Aren't you supposed to be running?". He caught me up at the aid station and decided to stick with me for the remainder of that lap. Thank you, Ian. My 4 hours was up on the paracetamol so I took some more and ventured out on the last lonely lap. I was determined to finish this stupid race. Most of the marshals had gone and it felt like it was just me out on the path. About a third of the way round Simon caught up with me. I asked if that meant I was last and he confirmed I was. Fun fact, Simon is the husband of Helen, who ran with me on my first ever Cotswolds race, and (Helen) had finished several hours earlier. He can talk the back end off a donkey, let me tell you. I was so grateful to him for getting me round that final lap and back to the finish. Graham, the race director, who I'm sure rolls his eyes every time I turn up, came down the finish chute with me.

I discovered post-race that someone started before me (we started in waves) and, although they finished before me, was actually slower so I didn't actually come last!

Vignette 2: Bridge Sprint: putting the poo into poubelle

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Sat, 16 Sep 2023 19:46:00 +0000

Note: I am translating poubelle to rubbish here. No I don't care if that's wrong.

"I'm just waiting to be rescued, bring me back to life"

There isn't much to say about this race. It was a warm up for my A race in the Cotswolds. It was hot, and I didn't wear a wetsuit. My swim was slow. My ride was slow, there were too. many. damn. dead turns. My run, well we have a phrase for that now, it is what it is. Also slow. I was 💩. The end.

2023 Vignette 1: Ride London

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Sat, 16 Sep 2023 18:00:00 +0000

While I was swimming round Swim Serpentine this morning I decided as I'd been a bit rubbish writing up my blog this year, I'd just do a quick recap or vignette of each event I have done this year.

Ride London 2023: Regretting my life choices

Why is it that everything starts with someone suggesting we enter a stupidly long event on Whatsapp?

Michelle and I decided we would cycle together, which I very much needed to stop myself from exiting onto the shorter route, which we sailed past (well correction Michelle sailed past and I followed her, wistfully wishing I could cut the ride short).

I really feel this image shows how much taller/bigger I am compared to a "normal" person. This is one of the official photos which I just loved and had to have despite the £10 price tag.

The photo below is the way I felt by the time we got to the last "official" stop. We got there with 10 minutes to go before cut off time, Michelle was hoping for some food but we didn't have enough time and all the free stuff had pretty much gone, apart from some gels. I thankfully had a spare bar to share. At this time I am hot, very tired, and a long way from the finish still. Temperatures were in the high 20s and way warmer than we expected.

On our way back to town we managed to find somewhere that at least had some coke which revived us and I managed to resist turning for home at the Canning Town turnaround. There might have been a stop or two to ease very painful burning feet. We finally got to London Bridge about 15 minutes after the 6pm cut off but we still got our medals 😀

Cascais 70.3: Don't Dream It's Over

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Wed, 19 Oct 2022 18:07:00 +0000

So a little bit of a back story on Ironman branded 70.3s that I have done previously. Edinburgh 70.3 2017: swim cut short due to water temperature. Barcelona 70.3 2018: cut off at the first bike point due to being rubbish at hills. Weymouth 70.3 2018: swim cut short due to bad weather. So I've never finished a complete Ironman branded 70.3. Was Cascais to be my first?

The day was due to be sunny but mild. We had some confusion over where our "street wear" bags should go which meant we had to walk back up the hill to registration, which was annoying! We then went to the start on the beach, where I positioned myself in the 45 minute wave, even though I thought my swim would take 50 minutes. There were a bunch of Tritons in that wave and Alan said I looked like I was going to be sick - I think I was super nervous! The announcer was giving a rousing speech about how great we were going to be which wasn't really helping. Finally the pros started with the ring of a bell and we were let through in waves. No beeps, just someone sending us through 6 at a time.

I ran into the sea and dived into the waves as I'd practiced the day before and started to swim. I couldn't see anything as I'd not been able to rinse my goggles before, so had to spend a few seconds rinsing them out while treading water so I could see something. It made a big difference, although because of where the sun was and the hundreds of people in front of me it was really hard to sight or know where we were going. I just followed the crowd in front of me, which I know is bad but I didn't really have a choice. I'd forgotten quite how much I hated the washing machine effect of mass swims - although it wasn't a mass start there were so many people in the water it felt like it. We got to the first turn point and my hat started to feel like it was slipping. Unfortunately, I have a very large head and most swim caps don't really fit me especially if they are cheap, which sadly the Ironman caps have become. I tried a couple of times to pull it back over my head, because the rules clearly stated you had to wear the cap at all times, then I pulled it down so forcefully I knocked my goggles off! I gave up after that and decided if it was going to fall off it was going to fall off. And fall off it did, leaving me to attempt to sight with hair in my vision. Sigh. As we rounded the last corner, I swallowed a bit too much sea water and hacked it back up again (bleurgh!) but I could see the ramp and the way out, so I was determined to finish this damn swim and be out of the water.

The exit was up a boat ramp so we didn't have to worry about getting sand all over our feet. But remember that boat ramp for later, OK? I was shocked to see that I'd done the swim in 44 minutes - my fastest swim for a while!

I got into transition with a bunch of other Tritons which was great and we all got out of our swim stuff, into bike stuff and ran off to our bikes. We went out over some cobbles which was interesting (Cascais seems to be obsessed with cobbles, both on the road and on the pavements. I feel sorry for disabled people.)

The bike started OK if a bit slowly - straight into a hill and then a short descent. Then we started the main ascent, which just seemed to go on FOREVER. I tried to tell myself it was like Cudham (a climb near Orpington that we go to), but it was like Cudham without the shade and much longer! I saw people who had had to stop already with punctures (CO2 going everywhere), and some poor soul who was walking back to transition with his bike. At about 12 km going up this damn hill my legs weren't having any more and I had to stop and have a word with myself. I was still feeling a bit sick from the sea water too. Annoyingly about half a km further up the road we came to a flat section and a little village! There were more hills though, some which looked much steeper, and descents that then ended up turning up into further climbs. I started to run out of water, which was a concern, but I knew that at 20km we would get to the circuit and I could top up. It was hot, horrible and everyone came past me. All the Ironman cyclists started coming past as well. We went past the "12% descent" followed by the speed bump and then the sharp left hand turn, then finally we were on the descent to the race circuit. I would have enjoyed this more if I'd had anything left to drink, but I was more focused on getting to the aid station so I could finally top up. I was so relieved to have done the hilly section and be on the descent towards the sea. The race circuit was tricky because I wanted to hug the racing line and someone did try to come up inside me and shout "on your left" angrily but I didn't move for them. Finally topped up and with some liquid in me I carried on out of the race circuit and down towards Estoril. I hadn't looked much at the rest of the cycle course and thought it was fairly flat with a couple of "blips". It was not flat. The first blip was evil up the hill, and I kind of lost it as I tried to U-turn far to early and ended up having to go right round a roundabout back the correct way (someone shouted at me "What are you doing?" I didn't know!). Finally I got round the blip and back down the hill towards the sea. The road to Lisbon was interminable, painful and NEVER ENDED. At one point I heard this "pssssh" behind me and I thought, that's it, game over, I have a puncture. Actually, it was my race number rubbing against my wheel. It was incredibly annoying but not race ending. Then my feet started to feel like they were burning, first the soles then the toes. It was SO SORE. In the end I had to stop and stretch to try and relieve the pain, which did help. In the end I had to take some paracetamol at the next aid station to see if that would help at all. I was also hoping that the wind we were suffering with on the way to Lisbon would be a tailwind on the way home, but if anything it seemed to be worse😖. It was great to see so many Tritons out on the course and that really lifted my spirits. On the way back along the not-so-flat-and-windy road, back past Belém, past what I now know is Padrão dos Descobrimentos, a bizarre monument to the Portuguese Age of Discovery. My feet were absolutely killing me, no amount of even taking my feet off the pedals and trying to shake them were helping. By the time I got back to Cascais (rounding the bay was a particular highlight), I was almost in tears with the pain from my burning toes, it was just agony. I was also convinced that I was over time, that I'd let down my husband, my coach, and that I was a terrible triathlete. That I shouldn't be a triathlon coach. As someone pointed out to me later, I was in a Very Dark Place. I was already planning on entering a half marathon elsewhere as I'd resigned myself to being cut off. In fact, I discovered later that I entered T2 at 13:20 when the hard cut off was 13:37. I'd started at 8:02 so I also had about 10 minutes on my 5h 30 cut off. I got through transition in 4 minutes and started the run. Transition took me a few minutes longer because I forgot my cycling shorts on so had to run back to put them back in my bag!

So I had 3 hours and a few minutes to do my half marathon. Now, bear in mind that my last two half marathons at the end of 70.3 have taken me a good 3 and a half hours, it was hot, I had given everything in the bike, and I had been ready to be cut off at the end of the bike. I'd also not run longer than maybe 13 km in training since March. The run had a really joyous (*sarcasm*) long gradual hill climb out of the town. Did I mention it was hot too? I walked through every aid station, throwing water over myself, almost drowning myself in the process sometimes! I drank all the coke I could and cheered on the Tritons coming the other way, who seemed as surprised as I was that I'd made it to the run. The run went on forever, and did go a little bit downhill before we had to go back up again and past the lighthouse. I was wiping down my hands on my legs, and my suit felt rough, it took me a while to realise that I'd sweated so much there were dried patches of salt on my shorts.

Somehow still running

The run took us down into the marina and back up that blasted ramp we got out of when we were swimming. Just after the ramp were Julie and Stuart, where Julie told me to go faster. Ha, I thought, this is about as fast as I can go. Round the turn around point - once again not being cut off! - and back on the climb out of town 😒. I'd just about had enough and was really struggling to run, there were a lot more walk breaks on this time around. More aid stations, more water over my face, most of them cheering and saying força or "let's go, let's go", past the weird guy dancing with horns on his head, past Thea, past Ian, past Michelle, who I told I wouldn't make the final cut off. I saw the lighthouse ahead of me, and thought, do we go past that? Yes, yes we did. At least we only had to do it twice. Round the turnaround point, and finally back into town. I was surrounded by Ironman athletes, otherwise this would have been very lonely. It was still hot. My watch says it reached 35 degrees but I think actually it was more like 26...

I finally made it back to the marina where I noticed a man with a moped following me. I knew by this stage trying to get to the end before the cut off was impossible. He came up to me and said something in Portuguese which I understood to mean "your time is over" but he didn't try to stop me, so I continued running, responding "I know". Closer to the end of the marina, the Ironman winner came past me. I wondered if they would let me through the finishing gate, and I saw Stuart and Julie again cheering me on to the finish. As I got to the end, the Ironman winner was just going through the finish with the ticker tape and everything, and THEY LET ME THROUGH! So I got the end of the ticker tape and everyone was just cheering me through the finish line! It was an incredibly surreal experience, and the winner shook my hand just after I crossed the line. They even gave me a medal and a T-shirt!

Turns out I was even in the official video 😂

I have to say even though I was 10 minutes over the cut off for the run, my run was 10 minutes faster than my two previous 70.3s. I was very proud that I actually finished and didn't just give up.

As always, I want to thank my husband Stuart for all of his support and to coach T, who has got me back on my feet after Covid... maybe next time I'll break the curse of the Ironman 70.3.

MidnightMan 2022: The Return

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Sun, 14 Aug 2022 11:05:00 +0000

So as you might (or probably not) remember I got COVID-19 at the start of April which totally flattened me. Over the month of July I started doing longer rides and hour long runs, as well as as much swimming as I could fit in, and gradually my fitness started to increase. I went into the quarter distance of MidnightMan thinking, it will be what it will be, I'll swim, bike and "run" and see how I get on.

The swim

The swim was my first mass start for three years. I wasn't really looking forward to this because I am not a big fan of mass starts, but actually it was absolutely fine, no washing machine dramas, I think someone did try to swim over my legs but I just kicked them away. As the water was 24.5 C it was no wetsuit for the quarter which was not an issue for me as I prefer to swim without my wetsuit! As we were waiting for the start, someone asked me where the red buoy was (the only buoy you have to turn left instead of right) so I told them it was round the corner out of sight. I believe this was Ron, who I ended up attempting to draft near the end of the swim. In my swim coaching I had been learning about timing your stroke to the other person's stroke so I was doing that on our way in to the finish. I have had the most horrible coldsore this week and it had turned into a big scab, and let me tell you trying to breathe out of your mouth in the water with a painful scab on your lip is not fun!

The bike

My transition went far better than usual, probably thanks to not having to faff around with taking my wetsuit off, and I set off on the bike with much cheering from the fabulous marshalls. A big thank you to them for cheering me on every time I came past! MidnightMan is a race with many many dead turns. I am not the greatest at these but at least this time I managed to do them all without having to put my foot out! It was a very warm night with a bit of a headwind as we went out onto Bob Dunn Way (oh Bob Dunn Way, I have not missed you!). They have had to cut the bottom loop short so we had to do 6 laps for the quarter distance. Let me tell you that was more than enough. I really felt for those who had to do the long distance of 26 laps. With four dead turns on every lap, and a nasty corner to get out onto Bob Dunn Way, it would be a lot. Every lap I would go past the main turning into the Bridge, where there was a truck trying its very best to block traffic, with one person trying really hard to drive over the grass so they could get through 😒. I would also go past a family who had these giant round glasses full of some green cocktail - I like to think it was mojito but who knows? I noticed on about my third lap that they were looking a bit empty so I told them it was time for a top up and the next time I went round they proudly told me that they'd got a top up 😂. We also had some idiot on a quad bike come down right the middle of the cyclists - seriously mate I mean... really? I had to stop half way to refill my hydration as I was so thirsty I'd drunk a whole bottle in about 45 minutes. Did I mention it was warm? I also had to tell both Sophie and Duncan that it was 6 laps for the bike... this is why you listen to the race briefing guys and not turn up just before the race starts hoping to wing it!! I kept looking out for Stuart, but every time I went past the transition point he'd disappeared. I got good cheers from the lovely marshalls though!

The run

I'd come into this race with the full intention of walking the run if I absolutely had to. In fact I only walked a little bit just after transition and then I spent most of the rest of the run at a "comfortable" jog. It was dark by this stage and kind of cooler - thankfully! I was very glad of my hydration pack that I'd put on at transition, so I could drink whenever I needed to. I still felt like I was overheating and was a bit jealous of the guys who had just taken off the top of their trisuits (although I'm pretty sure that's a DQ in the BTF rules!). I'd met not-Stuart in transition at the start of the race, and I called him not-Stuart because he'd introduced himself to me and then said that he could have been Stuart as that was the name of the person between us and that was the name I remembered 😂. Anyway I checked afterwards and his real name was Sean, so sorry not-Stuart/Sean for not remembering your name. I high-fived not-Stuart every time I saw him with a "Boom" for full effect. Dimitrij also came past me at full speed on his way to coming second in the half distance. My final lap included helping some guy out who decided to leave his bottle of water on top of his car (!) and the faster runners from the half distance coming past me with barely a "well done". Someone did say well done to me on the way out on my second lap and I think my response was "aaaauuuuhhh" clearly trying to form words at that point was hard work haha!

I feel proud of myself, but also know that I have a lot of work to do in order to be fast enough to finish Cascais in October. I'd like to thank Coach T, for making sure I didn't stay a blob on the couch post-Covid. And of course my lovely husband Stuart for giving up his evening to (apparently) cheer me on. Although he did walk with me on my first run lap back to transition. Finally, thanks to John for running the MidnightMan for the past 10 years and doing his very best to make it a great experience and very inclusive for everyone! Oh AND I wasn't last! In fact I came second in the female veterans over 40 group, out of three 😀

This isn't triathlon, this is DNFing with style

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Mon, 06 Jun 2022 21:36:00 +0000

So a quick recap of this year so far: I decide to quit my job in favour of following my dreams as a triathlon coach, and then in the last month of my work I catch COVID (at a microbiology conference, #irony). My recovery from COVID has been a lot slower than I expected and it completely flattened me. I have lost a lot of stamina and been experiencing very annoying dizziness. One minute I was training for a marathon, the next I couldn't even walk to the local park and back.

So up to last week my training has been very softly softly gently gently. Finally last week I managed to cycle into town and back. I feel like I have turned a corner, but unfortunately not in time for Cotswolds 113. After discussion with my coach, we agreed that I would do the swim, one lap of the ride and, if I felt up to it, one lap of the run.

The day of the race dawned wet. I hardly slept at all, the place where we are staying has a very uncomfortable bed and the patter of rain just sounded like nails on the roof. I had to put all my transition stuff into a plastic bag. I had a sweet spot right at the end of the rack which meant I had a little more space to put my stuff and it was not hard at all to find my bike.

The swim started wet. I tried to find somewhere to stay dry. I bumped into loads of people who said hi, which was lovely, AND I remembered something to eat pre-swim. The wait to start was pretty miserable with the rain but finally I set off into the much warmer water for my swim. The swim went as well as it could have done, I was trying to take it gently and not overdo it, and some parts felt like I was swimming really nicely. No nasty weeds after the previous day's surfing over horrid green mounds. I finished the swim in 54:25, which according to Strava is only 9 seconds slower than last year, so I'm really pleased with that! No goggle leaks, no swim cap issues, all good.

Into transition and it took me forever to put my stuff on for the bike. I don't know if I was tired, or wet, or cold, or a combination of all of these. I was clearly following the Gary method of transition, all I needed was a sofa. Onto the bike, could not get comfortable, my trisuit got caught around my saddle and I had to readjust down the road. The bike was pretty miserable all things considered. I felt like I was carrying a lead weight around with me and it was only later on in the bike that I figured that I hadn't put the blasted front wheel on properly and the brakes were rubbing. Sorry Mark, I failed. I did get to see Stuart on the bike who was marshalling in some place in the middle of nowhere that seemed pretty lonely, poor bloke. Alex came past me and shouted "We need to find a new sport!". Well that's easier said than done for someone who's just given up everything to invest themselves into this very specific sport. I had to stop to catch my breath and stretch (I'd forgotten quite how painful it was to sit on a bike for over two hours) a couple of times, always catching the concern of the marshalls. The one great thing about this race is the marshalls, they are always lovely and full of cheer and support. Thank you.

I was so glad I only had to do one lap and I didn't have to sit on my bike for another two plus hours. The only issue with coming in early was that all the fast people were out on the run course. They took my timing chip off me when I declared I was coming in early, so I got to my spot and prepared to pack up. However a marshall saw me and managed to convince me that I could still do at least part of the run even minus my timing chip. So, after I'd put everything away, I took out my trainers and went out... almost forgetting my bib as I went. Lots of people were trying to cheer me on on the run but they didn't know that I was essentially maxed out by that stage. The other issue is that the run is really narrow in places, and you remember I said I was out with the faster runners? Yeah I got in their way. Obviously. Sorry... The run was hard, and I spent a lot of time walking. When I got to the first turn point I asked if I could go back to transition after explaining I'd already DNF'd (I know that's not a word, but 🤷). I plodded round the final corner, past transition, and that was the end of my race. Just in time for Stuart to have finished his duties and we could go home.

I didn't really know how to feel after the race, apart from exhaustion (I spent the rest of the afternoon asleep!). I just hope this is the start of the rebuild of my fitness. A total refresh.

Cotswolds 113 2021: What's love got to do with it?

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Mon, 07 Jun 2021 17:47:00 +0000

Before I start my race report, a few things happened before this race. Firstly, I pulled/tore my calf back in March, resulting in me only getting up to 10k a couple of weeks ago. Secondly, my race bike decided to dissolve on itself meaning I had to get a new bike a month before my race. Which I only had measured to fit a week before the race. I also had massive bike anxiety, even on my old faithful commuter bike, mostly due to angry London drivers.

So here we were, race day. I'd slept badly the night before, even worse after the slats on the bed decided to fall off for no particularly good reason. I was very anxious. What was I doing here and who was I kidding? It was great to see the Team Twinkle ladies though and I got a lovely hug or two. It was a very grey cloudy day and I noticed a lot of people had covered their shoes etc over so I took a spare plastic bag and my waterproof swim bag and covered mine over too.

I chatted to some lovely Twinkle ladies I'd not met before at the start and then it was time to go. Too late, my stomach rumbled and I realised I'd not eaten my protein bar before my swim. Sorry coach, that was stupid. As I got into the water, my foot caught a rough piece of stone and scraped all the way up my Achilles. Ouch.

I absolutely hated the swim - I say this as a lifelong swimmer and someone who will willingly swim in the sea, the local lido, the docks etc. I think the lack of food (since a small pot of porridge in the early hours) really didn't help. I spent most of my time with the song "I'm outta love" going round my head, cursing myself for entering this race, and seriously considering leaving triathlon and never training or coaching again. I did eventually realise that the reason I was grumpy was because I was hungry and was determined to grab some nutrition when I got to the bike. I got round, a little bit of argy bargy round the buoys, and finally to Shouty Dave at the exit helping us out of the water. Swim done in 50 minutes, definitely room for improvement there.

Into transition, and time to get on with the bike. As I said above, I only got my new bike, Bob, four weeks ago. For the first time, things seemed to click and we motored along at what is a pretty respectable pace for me - I've definitely got more speed in me so I need to work on this too. The bike was absolutely miserable - drizzle pretty much all the way. I say this every time, but I always bring terrible weather. Rain, wind, or baking heat, not very much in the middle. This time was the drizzle, descending to proper rain at one stage. I had the song "Desperado" going round my head, "Desperado, why don't you come to your senses, ... you better let somebody love you, before it's too late" I ate and drank as much as I could on the bike even though my nutrition did get a bit soggy by the end... I even had to stop to refill my water bottle and had a couple of concerned cyclists go past and ask if I was OK. I had this nifty cycle saddle that you can adjust but the issue is it seems to self adjust mid ride so I had to get off at the aid station and get a nice man with a set of Allen keys to readjust it. Thankfully it stayed in place for the rest of the ride, but I'm not best pleased with it. I didn't have to stop as much as last year and actually managed to overtake some people near the end. It was great to see Helen out on the race course after last year, and Stuart near the start, for some much needed cheering.

Shuffling on the run

And finally on to the run, my legs refused to work (not enough brick training?). I shuffled round to Stuart, by which stage I had started to hyperventilate. I told him I wasn't sure I could carry on, but he encouraged me to keep going. Off I shuffled, like some kind of loon, everyone coming past me including Angela who I'd come into transition with. I got my breathing under control, but then a familiar pain started. My calf was acting up. By the time I got back to Stuart, I wasn't sure if I should continue and risk further injury. I decided to take a couple of paracetamol and continue going. The finish line was absolutely rammed with spectators - a big change from last year where they weren't allowing people to cheer us on - and you were hit with a wall of noise as you went past. I saw Tracey and told her about my calf and she said that we always knew it was going to be an issue. Onto the second lap, and it was starting to get a bit quieter. Also the sun started to come out - it ALWAYS comes out on the run, and then you boil after freezing for hours. Past Stuart, more soggy hugs and kisses (poor bloke). Got more cheers from Twinkles including "by far our favourite scientist"... I met this lovely lady called Jo from Celtic Tri who I ran/walked with for a while. I realised that some of my pain in my leg was actually due to the graze I'd gathered earlier on in the day when getting into the lake (rolls eyes)... The paracetamol was doing its job so it didn't hurt so much. I was surprised when I caught up with Angela and passed her as I thought she would have been finished way ahead of me, but she admitted later that she went off too quick and faded about half way around. My feet started to hurt and I suspected blisters but I kept plodding on until somehow I was on the final lap, it was getting quieter but I caught up with Jo again and we spent a good couple of km keeping each other going. Back through the little village and someone said "Oh I thought you were last" I said "I probably am" but there were people behind me. The marshalls were amazing again and I really appreciate their support. I had made it to the end, with barely enough energy to raise my arms in joy at the finish.

And I finally got to go back to bed as I promised myself and have a nice snooze

London Marathon: a step too far

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Sat, 07 Nov 2020 17:25:00 +0000

So as we know this year has been full of cancellations and postponements for races. For someone who likes to enter races throughout the year it has been disappointing. Thus when the opportunity to enter the virtual London marathon came along I jumped at the chance. It was two weeks after my middle distance race, that should be training enough right?

Oh Hilary.

I planned a run down the Thames path, which was nice and flat, and using the route planner I figured I had to run from my house to the Oxo building and back to get to finish at Woolwich.

The weather report was pretty grim, so I set myself up for the morning with a gilet and arm warmers. I also had my husband put physio tape round my arms where it had rubbed two weeks before and hadn't healed quite yet.

I planned to leave at 7am and I think I was a couple of minutes late. Out the door into the rain for a very very long day.

Ready to go out

The first bit of my run down the hill I felt warm and wondered if I'd over layered. That was the only time I felt warm. It may have been early but there were already others out there. I saw one lady who was going to Grove Park and two Danson runners before I turned off towards Galleons Reach. I was glad that I had done a recce the week before so I knew the way to the Thames path. I ran past the statues and wondered how long it would be before I saw them again. Out of Woolwich, down past the old Siemens buildings and the climbing wall, then on past the Thames barrier. Lots of faster runners were coming past me by this stage. The wind was really strong and the rain was just coming down.

The route onto the peninsula began with several very large puddles. It was either attempt to climb around them or just wade through them. I just waded through, my feet getting soaked. The path was very narrow so I had to let runners and cyclists go by me. On went the wind and the rain. I knew that my husband was waiting for me at the O2 which pushed me on. Poor Stuart couldn't use his umbrella because of the wind. Finally I saw him. I was about 10 minutes late at this stage. I grabbed some water and coke and carried on. It was such a nice surprise to go past Ed's group of runners on my way round the peninsula to Greenwich. On went the wind and rain, through the puddles on through the narrow Thames path to Greenwich. Greenwich was a hive of activity and runners despite the rain and I got lots of cheers on my way through.

Out of Greenwich, through Deptford and past an old friend's flat in Rotherhithe. At this point my phone starts going a bit mad (because of the rain) and decided on its own to call the emergency number. Suddenly I'm being asked if I need an ambulance. I felt so bad for the misdial. On went the wind and rain. The Thames path goes a bit fiddly at this stage, but I was joined by fellow Triton Ruth who showed me the straighter route. Thanks to Ruth, who sadly left me to get some drink, I managed to find the end of the run I used to do from work to Canada Water. Now I was on more familiar ground, I ran through Rotherhithe, past Tom and Rachel which was lovely, and on through the wind and the rain until I got to Tower Bridge. I tried at this point to get my phone out to send a message to my husband but it was wet and the touchscreen wasn’t working properly. After several futile attempts, I managed to send him a message that said “London beDGE3”. I meant London Bridge, although I hadn’t got there yet. There were lots of other runners and walkers in ponchos all doing the marathon as well, it was amazing with the weather.

Finally I got to London Bridge, and I saw Ruth coming the other way. She’d managed to pass me somewhere where the path goes close to the river while she did the more straight version. She told me I didn’t have far to go to get to the OXO tower, where I’d arranged to meet Stuart. Everything was hurting by that stage. I was wet, cold, miserable, and wondering why I’d got myself into this. Past the Tate building and the Millennium bridge, oh London it’s been a long time. Finally, there was the OXO building and Stuart waiting in the shelter. I’m not ashamed to say I burst into tears when I saw him. It was so utterly miserable, my body was starting to hurt badly, and I just wanted to go home and stop torturing myself. Stuart gently reminded me that I could do this, that I was doing it for charity, and that I’d hate myself if I gave up. So, I pulled myself together, grabbed another glug of coke, filled up my water bottles clumsily with slightly frozen hands, and started the hobble back to Greenwich.

Over half way, cold, wet, fed up

When I say hobble I mean it. My hip has always given me gyp when I do longer distances and because I hadn’t trained for the marathon it was particularly bad. I’d given myself a walk/run schedule, but my shuffle back was more limp/walk rather than run/walk. I shuffled back the way I’d came, passing Ed and her merry group of runners which was another cheering moment, but also by a guy who shouted at me “Stop running! You’re going to give yourself a stroke!” which was a concerning moment! I was messaging my friend Thea and husband when I got a chance, but because my phone had gone bonkers all I could send was messages in CAPITAL LETTERS so I’m sorry about all the shouting… Luckily I’d taken a spare charger in a plastic case and my phone hadn’t got to the “I’m too wet to charge” state yet so I could charge my phone while I ran/walked/hobbled. On went the wind and the rain, the other runners and walkers coming past me. Finally I got to Greenwich. I was wildly later than I said I would be (because I was hobbling) so my poor husband was waiting super patiently back at the O2. I’d also wildly overestimated my distance so I was nearly at 40km when I got to Greenwich. Back out of Greenwich I went, through the puddles, chatting to some random runner who wasn’t doing the marathon but was still running in the horrendous weather (why???). I hobbled on, unable to run now, getting to the O2, but it always seemed to never get any closer. I was in a LOT of pain by this stage, every step was torture. Past the golfing range (all the golfers tucked under a nice roof!), and there was the O2. Step by painful step I got there, and there was my poor saturated husband who had been waiting some time for me to turn up. I literally had maybe half a kilometre to go before I’d done the marathon distance. However, looking at the marathon app, it seemed to think I had at least a mile. Stuart agreed to walk with me to my friend Thea who was waiting for me nearer the Thames Barrier. So I had to continue, step by agonising step, finishing the marathon, and then carrying on walking towards the Thames Barrier. I just wanted to go home. I’d had enough of the wind, the rain, the pain, I wanted to get dry and warm again. But it was so lovely to see Thea who’d made a special effort to come out and cheer me on. Plus the extra distance I did meant that the app thought I’d finished the marathon as well, although about 20 minutes later than I actually had.

I swore I would never enter another marathon again. And, nearly a month later, I’m still dealing with the after effects of running at least 10km on an injured IT band.

Finally finished!

It took a month for my medal to arrive, which was weird when I got the medal and you’re not sweaty and horrible.

Cotswolds 113 - If you're going through hell, keep going

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Wed, 23 Sep 2020 07:00:00 +0000

Last year - who knows when - there was a discussion on the TeamTwinkle page about doing Cotswolds 113. It was due to run in June and had a good deferral policy if for some reason we couldn't do it. I was going to say it was the only event this year I had booked, but then I remembered Brighton Marathon, and the Dart 10k.... never mind

Anyway, of course we know what happened next. Pandemic, lockdown, cancellation after cancellation of events. Cotswolds 113 was pushed back to September. I stopped training for a bit, couldn't swim, stuck my bike on the turbo trainer and didn't really push myself as much as I should have. In fact, most of my training was pretty much not pushing myself as hard as I should have, with runs in zone 2 resulting in pretty much half being walking.

My husband and I had decided to take the week before off as holiday and we spent a lovely week in surprisingly warm sunny Fairford. I'd convinced him to bring his bike along so we did a bit of a recce of some of the course before which helped my confidence a bit (after spending so much time on the turbo it takes me a bit of getting used to being back on the road again). Unfortunately on the Friday my husband came off his bike just as we were setting off down the road so he spend most of Friday at the Great Western Hospital. Thankfully he didn't break anything but he was very bruised, battered and got nasty concussion, poor chap.

On race day, we had to vacate our property in the morning. So we were up at 4:30, making sure we'd taken everything with us, and packed up the car ready for the day ahead. We got to the car park in good time, and it was still dark. I of course hadn't packed a head torch but thankfully our phone torches just about worked so I could get the bike back together and set off towards transition. With the new COVID procedures in place, I had to state that I hadn't had any symptoms within the last two weeks and get temperature checked. That done, I could go into transition and start setting up. The guy next to me started chatting to me and told me that this was his first triathlon. He wandered off around the time I started admonishing my bike for being a pain (sometimes when I put the wheel in it doesn't run smooth). I can't be the only one who talks to their bike, right?

Transition all set up

With my transition set up I was trying to feed myself through the mask which was kind of working (!) and I put my wetsuit on. I somehow managed to stretch the cap they had given us so it would actually fit on my (stupidly large) head and walked to transition. I watched the earlier waves go off, every 10 seconds, and noted how some were leaving their sandals at the start so they didn't have to walk over the stony ground. I decided to do the same, but forgot to set up my watch, which meant I got in the way while I was starting it up (oops!).

The swim - I really don't miss mass starts

The lake was a good temperature, but it was pretty cool outside so the swim was a bit on the chilly side. It was nice not to have to attempt to fight everyone during the mass start and didn't feel like I was crowded at all at any point in the swim. Of course you then don't know where you are in the race but given I was pretty confident I'd be near the end it was nice to see a line of yellow hats behind me. Water was a little choppy in places but I've definitely experienced worse. My swim line shows a pretty straight line through the course although it was slow, I'm pretty happy with my effort.

Out of the water and into a "neutralised" transition - they gave you 10 minutes of essentially free time to change and get your bike out to try and reduce the amount of contact you might have with other competitors. Thankfully my bike was sitting on its own so I didn't have to wait to get to it. Off on the bike course...

The bike - That feckin wind

And onto the bike I got. It's fair to say I've had two outings on my bike this year outdoors post lockdown, neither of which were anywhere near long enough, and usually involved a bit of stopping and resting (even had cake in the middle of one!). So I was nowhere near prepared for the ordeal of 90km on terrible roads and with a headwind that was absolutely unrelenting. I spent the first half of the ride freezing and then it started to warm up. I refilled my water bottle at 30 and 60 km, let myself have a couple of minutes rest, and kept going. It was awful. About half way round I was already in agony, my backside felt like it was being tortured by the saddle, and by 50km I was ready to cry. Every lump on the road (and there were many!) was another descent into misery. So many people came past me cheering me on - I had my TeamTwinkle suit on - that was a special bit of the day. The marshalls were brilliant too. I'd convinced myself I'd get to 60 km and stop and have a word with myself. The far turnaround point was about that so I stopped and had a chat to the marshalls. After filling up my water bottle and getting going again, I did feel better, even if my bike did feel like a red hot poker on my backside (I think I need a new saddle!). The last few kilometers were just awful, searing pain, sore top of back, hot weather, endless lumps on the road (you could see others had suffered with many water bottle "casualties" at the side of the road) and I was just fed up of the wind. I demanded a kiss off my poor husband as I came past his marshalling spot to keep me going and then I did the final TT section, and finally got on the road to transition. Which was far longer than I remembered. I felt like I was nearly last by that stage, although there were a couple of others behind me. The bliss of being able to get to the dismount line and finally off the torture device that was my bike was like nothing else. I really needed more time outside on the bike this year.

The run - if you're going through hell, keep going

Through "neutralized" transition again, and on to the run. By this stage any semblance of cold had well and truly disappeared and it was HOT. I mean, not Hamburg hot, but hot enough. The fact that I didn't need to use the toilet at all between swim and the end of my run (about 7 hours of exercise) suggests that I was very dehydrated, which is probably why I couldn't get my legs going at all. That and the endless runs in zone 2 resulted in a desultory run which was poor even for me. The first lap was quite busy, with quite a few still on the course, and loads of people coming past me, more Twinkle support (thanks guys!). I was really pleased I'd taken my running pack so I could carry a bottle of Tailwind and a bottle of coke with me. The run seemed to involve lots of the lake that we'd previously swum in, an interminable stretch down to Somerford Keynes, most of which was in the burning sunshine, and on the first lap there were several people cheering us on all the time eating ice cream! Gah! I managed to shuffle round the first lap somehow, then got past the finish line where my husband and several Twinks were waiting. Again the support from the marshalls was absolutely brilliant. At some point the Twinkle behind me overtook me and offered to help with my running but I shoo'd her on. She finished well before I did. The second lap was interminable, again round the lake, again down the hot hot road towards Somerford Keynes, and finally to the aid station. I asked them if they'd still be there when I came around again, and they reassured me they'd be waiting for me. I threw more water down my throat, refilled my water bottle, threw water over myself and kept on going. I was half way, even if everyone kept saying "Nearly there now" I knew I still had over an hour of running to go. It was hell. Again. Someone came past me telling me they had only a km and a half to go, but of course I didn't, I had another lap. Finally, I get to the finish line (you could hear it from a mile away!) and started on my final lap. Got past transition, wondering how many bikes would be left by the time I came around again, then started off on my final lap. It was about this stage a very lovely marshal called Helen decided to join me on my shuffle/stumble/pootle. She was walking so fast that she didn't have to run beside me to keep up with me. I can't really remember much of what she was talking to me about (or prattling on, as she insisted) but it really helped me round my final lap. To my amazement she joined me for the entire 7 km or whatever it was. Soon enough there was a mountain biker behind us with a Cotswold t-shirt on and I knew I must be last or nearly last. It took me back to Edinburgh where I had a whole cohort following me on my last lap. So on we went, step by very slow step, round the lake, through the trees, on to the burning hot road that never ended to Somerford Keynes. I showed Helen the way and noticed the roads seemed to have lost a lot of the marshalls (there were only a few of us left on the course by that stage). Thankfully the water station was still there so I was able to get my last sploosh over the head with water and back round through the lovely village. As Helen was a maths teacher (or newly ex-teacher) she was able to do the calculations of how much further we had to go, so first it was 5 km ("just a Parkrun"), then it was 3 km, then just over 1 km... on the final stretch I seemed to find something from somewhere and actually got Helen running as I got to the finish line. Over I went, elated and totally and utterly spent.

Finished!

Sheer bloody mindedness

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Sun, 11 Aug 2019 15:57:00 +0000

Warning - this blog contains bad language!

Midnightman 2019 race report "Sheer bloody mindedness"

This is Hilary.

Hilary is several stone overweight (no really).

Hilary may just be possibly the worst triathlete ever and often comes last. Although, it seems this tenacity seems to inspire others.

Hilary is supposed to be on a sabbatical from racing. However, I have completed the London Marathon, the Great South 4k swim, Bridge Triathlon standard distance, Dock2Dock 5k swim and the London Triathlon Olympic Plus. I've decided that the sabbatical never really started.

Hilary is about to win the Greenwich Tritons female club champion.

Hold the phone - how does that work? Well it seems that no other women had entered the middle distance.

Enter Sophie Johnson, also Greenwich Triton. Well, it was never going to be that easy.

Midnightman is a very unusual race. It starts at 6 in the evening and goes on through the night. It takes place on a mixture of industrial estate and housing. The bike route takes you up and down the highway and part of the housing estate.

So we got there a little close to time but I had very few nerves. This is unusual for me, but I think after three Bridge events and one previous Midnightman, the place makes me feel at ease. We all stood around at the water's edge, not wanting to be the next one in and having to tread water while waiting for the start. My cap was extremely small - I have a very large head and struggle occasionally with caps but this one I had to squeeze my hair into!

We did get into the water, where we bobbed for a bit before starting. Clearly some of my friends hadn't been listening to the race brief because several of them asked where we were swimming. Sigh. We set off and started swimming. I had managed to get my new wetsuit on slightly more comfortably (having only previously swum in it once and it felt like a torture device!) and was swimming better than I had been. I did almost get swum over once or twice but I don't go down without a fight so I batted them off. About half way round I thought my goggles were about to come off and they were leaking a bit so I readjusted the strap. It was then that I figured it was my stupid cap trying to come off. Previously I have tried to stop and put the cap back on, but this time I was like, nah that'll waste time. So most of the second lap my cap was held in place only to the back of my head by my goggles. The only problem was, bits of my hair kept coming into my face so it was harder to sight!

My cross country friend Geraldine had a good laugh at my cap flapping off the back of my goggles as I got out of the water. Into transition I went, got myself ready and off on the bike... once I'd managed to clip myself in. Because of the wind, they'd had to cut the loops short so instead of 10 laps we had to do 13... unlucky for some. It was windy out there. Every time we went out onto the highway, the wind sucked the energy out of you and you were left in a fight against an invisible beast. I saw lots of Tritons out on the course, and they cheered me on as I went past. About 20 km and 5 laps in, I hit a very dark place. I started to wonder why I'd decided to enter this race. My reverie was broken by Sophie pinching my backside as she sped past, which gave me a bit of a fright and I might have had a bit of a go at her! The next time she went past me she told me that she was going to be doing the aquabike - thus making me once again the only female Triton in the race, thus the champ if I finished. This perked me up no end and brought me out of my dark place.

A few laps later was my encounter with the Dickless Wonder. He was driving a Range Rover or Landrover so I reckon he was overcompensating for something. So this guy drives up on the fast lane of the dual carriageway, window open, and proceeds to harrass me. He was shouting about my fat arse or me coming last, I don't know which but he thought it was really amusing. What a twat. I'd like to see him try doing this race. My anger and irritation at this kept me going for several more laps. The last few laps were more and more painful and by the time lap number 13 came up I couldn't wait to get off my bike. I was pleased with my ride though, I got round far more of the dead turns than I had previously without putting my feet down :)

On to the run then. It was about 11 pm by that stage and very dark. The route was very quiet with only the very occasional runner out there. My husband told me afterwards many had dropped out because of the weather. I pootled along, cheering anyone who came past me. I was mildly confused by everyone running back towards me until I figured out that the run went out and back again. I jogged on and on, passing my car, some fields and back to the housing estate. It was so dark and so quiet. There were some lovely ladies down by the hotel who were cheering us on and of course every time I went past the main transition area everyone cheered me on. After the first lap I realised that I had four laps to run not three - dammit! Every lap got quieter and lonelier. Third lap was the wildlife lap - including a rabbit that was taking its life into its own hands messing around the roundabout!

The full distance crazy people were starting to go past me. This included the very Aussie Australian. Also one lady who came past me who seemed to be running with her daughter (did someone say no outside assistance?!?). Some even had torches on their heads, one so bright I was temporarily blinded. Every time I went past my car I imagined it was cheering me on. Finally it was time for the final lap, Les who has cheered me on for several triathlons ran out with me to my final lap, and off I went back round the back and the dark and quiet. Round past the office buildings, past the end of the main road, then back out to the dark. Past the industrial estate, then past the quiet buildings and then some poor man came past me with a sore TFL. He walked with me (I was clearly jogging really slowly) for a few minutes before running on. All I had to do was finish. There was the finish straight, my poor husband waiting for me, cheering me on, and finally the finish line.

I finished in just under 8 hours. So everyone, please may I present the Greenwich Tritons female club champion for middle distance 2019. I won by default, but I was the only lady Triton to finish the distance. I do feel a bit like a cheater but I can't lie I'm incredibly proud of this achievement.

Pain is just the French word for bread: London Marathon 2019

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Sat, 04 May 2019 14:39:00 +0000

Other triathletes: "Doing a stand-alone marathon will be a walk in the park after Ironman"

Physio: "Hilary your knee is very swollen. I don't think you should run the marathon"

Colleague: “Have you done a marathon before?” Me, slightly sheepishly: “Only as part of an Ironman”

Ah, London marathon. I must have applied every year since I joined the Tritons - 5 or 6 years, each time to get the "sorry" letter through the post. Every year the Tritons also get a place so I apply for that too. This year when my name came up it was a bit of a surprise - I never win anything!

So after several months of irregular running and the odd Parkrun I threw myself into a training plan. Three times a week, quickly working up to 16km. The niggle in my knee started to niggle more than ever. My piriformis became an issue again. Then came the discussion with the physio about not doing the marathon. But it was my dream. I'd overdone it, and had to rest. Then came the worst flu I'd had for a while. I was out for a month.

Thus I had one month left to train, could I still do this run? My coach friend Jim looked dubious but gave me a plan anyway. I then had the interesting job of trying to fit in long runs around conference season. I came home from Belfast on a Thursday night, ran 25km on Friday, then Saturday morning I was off to Amsterdam at the crack of dawn! If it wasn't for training I would have missed the most beautiful lake in Amsterdam just as the sun was setting.

The days before the marathon were as manic as usual but I managed to get my run number on Wednesday at the expo. Oh, I thought, maybe I'll have a massage while I'm here. Thus proceeded one of the most painful half hours of my life. He seemed concerned that I was very tight and I'm not sure if he helped at all!

The day of the race dawned cold as they predicted. I caught my bus and train to Blackheath and joined the crowds walking to the start. Dropping off my bag I saw fellow Triton Julie and she gave me a hug and wished me luck. I also saw Simon, a friend's husband who had somehow jammily got into the marathon on his first ballot.

They'd instructed us to be there at least an hour before we started so there was a lot of waiting around in the cold before we could get started. Eventually I made my way to my zone just after a final comfort break and found the 5:45 pacing team. Apparently pacing runners above 5h were a new thing this year as they discovered 30% of runners finished after 5 hours.

We got colder as we waited to start. My fingers went white. We plodded towards the start gantry and we were on our way!

It was the weirdest thing running down the middle of the road that I normally drive down. The crowds were out and cheering. I instantly regretted not having my name on my top. Within about 10 minutes I'd decided to go ahead of the 5:45 pacers and run at a comfortable speed. There were many signs, one of which read:

You're running slower than Brexit

I thought that was a bit rude! There were loads of kids with their arms held out so I gave many hi 5s at the start. Spotting Stuart on my way past Woolwich, I gave him a hug and went on my way.

Thea had said the road from Woolwich to Rotherhithe took forever but because it's a cycle route home for me it wasn't that bad. I was very amused that the preacher from Woolwich town centre had decided to preach to us from the side of the road as we left Woolwich! I took water at every station I got to. I'd made super strength Tailwind in my bottles and kind of regretted it because it didn't taste good. There was a multitude of sweets on offer from the crowds with some people even holding strawberry laces in the middle of the road! By Rotherhithe I'd almost caught up with the 5h 30 pacers, I could see them in the distance. However, as I got to the end of the Rotherhithe loop, the good old hip problems started to kick in. I looked at the time and grabbed a couple of paracetamol. The pacers disappeared into the distance.

You're running faster than the government

We got to the stretch before Tower Bridge and I was excited. I'd been told the Bridge was an experience, and I wasn't disappointed. I felt very emotional with this wall of noise and cheering going on around me. It was something else. Onwards and where was half way? Nicely they'd put a sign saying Half way on the side of the road. 2h 44, I'll take that. Tried to ignore the runners on the other side running the other way who were many many miles in front of us. It was around this point I went past Simon, but I wasn't sure if it was him and was focused on my own world of pain. Down through the back of Canary wharf the first 5h 45 pacer came back past me. I tried to keep up but I was just too tired to run that fast. I needed (or wanted!) to walk. Then I saw him go to the urinal so thought maybe he was pacing a bit faster!

I informed the ladies who didn't know where we were that we were going through the Isle of Dogs and slowly but surely the 25 mile marker came up. Thea had said she was going to be around there, but I couldn't see her. Then I remembered she'd be by Mudchute and there she was, with her mother and my promised banana! Then a short while later I saw Alex, Caroline and Rich and Lucy. They said I was running well so I pulled a face that has now become my favourite photo!

Soon after the other 5h 45 pacer came past. He was doing run/walk so I managed to keep up with him for a while longer, but soon enough I was struggling to keep up. Through the crowds at Canary Wharf we went and then onto what I reckon is the worst bit of the course, Blackwall. You still have 10k left to go, everything hurts and it's not as popular. It was around this point I switched my phone on to message and Bluetooth and sent a message to the WhatsApp group tracking us. I got several messages telling me to keep going which was very motivating!

I was pretty much hobbling by this stage, my hip had seized up and the red 6h marker came past me. Once again I tried to keep up but I just didn't have the speed. Through the back end of Wapping I only had a vague idea where we were but it just never seemed to end. Where was the Embankment? Several onlookers declared that my trousers were the best they’d seen all day.

You’re running faster than Brexit

(really? I thought I was slower!)

We got to the final big Lucozade aid station, the one with the weird Lucozade-filled algae pods. I tried a couple but I wasn’t convinced by the algae pods so threw them down on the ground. Every single Lucozade station was either really slippery afterwards or really sticky (yuk!). Helen, one of my tall friends, was helping out at the aid station and shouted at me and I gave her a hug.

On to the Embankment, and the crowds started building again. It seemed to take forever to get from London Bridge to Waterloo and I was definitely limping, someone even asked me if I was OK. There was Waterloo and Thea and her mother again – thanks guys for your support – and finally onto the home straight and Westminster. 1 km to go to the end. The 6 h pacers came up behind me. Uh oh, I thought, I don’t want to go above 6 hours. Better try to speed up. Somehow I managed to drag some speed out of my poor aching body and I ran along St James’ Park, 600 m to go, 400 m to go, turn the corner and there’s the Mall and the finish line! Straight across the finish line and I am done! 5h 59! I was so happy to complete in under 6 hours.

It was the best weather to do a marathon in. It was the best city to do a marathon in. My only regret is not cutting my toenails before the race, so my right toe which is susceptible to turning black did a right number on me and got a very bad toenail haematoma… Would I do it again? Nah. I had to give up swimming and cycling for far too long and thus I reckon my stand-alone marathon days are over. Probably.

Weymouth 70.3 - if it were easy, it wouldn't be Ironman

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Tue, 25 Sep 2018 20:25:00 +0000

After the disappointment of being cut off at Barcelona earlier this year I really wanted to do another Ironman-branded 70.3 and finish. I was wary, though. After IM Copenhagen I got very bad piriformis syndrome and couldn't train properly for months. However, this year, once IM Hamburg was over, I didn't want to lose my fitness and Weymouth was my next target. For this race I had three aims:

To complete a 'full distance' Ironman branded 70.3 (the swim was cut short in Edinburgh)
To finish
Try not to finish last (or nearly last)

I tried my hardest to stick to the training plan I'd been given. I did have to move things around so I could get to the lido on the bike and, for various reasons, ended up discovering the local cycling routes near where my parents live. Not as hilly as I would have liked!
Finally taper week arrived. I wasn't ready. I never feel ready. The Fear gripped me. Coupled to this was the weather reports of high winds which really didn't help my anxiety. They cancelled Velo South, would they cancel all - or part- of Weymouth? I couldn't bear the thought of yet another very expensive duathlon. Ironman sent us an email to tell us they were going ahead but maybe to not go with the deep rims.

The weather report went from windy to rainy to ALL the wind and ALL the rain and cold!

Friday morning I drove to Weymouth to my B&B. I cannot fault the Kingswood guest house, they were extremely accommodating even though it was a bit of a walk into town. I made it in time for the first race briefing where once again they tried to reassure us that they were going to try and give us the full race. It was lovely if windy on the Friday and the sea was flat calm. The weather reports started to look more hopeful windwise (not rainwise though, it was going to be a horrible day!). I had a nice easy run, ate fish and chips (well it is the seaside!) and tried to sleep. I slept very badly, tossing and turning all night, worrying about things like how I was going to get to transition on race day and whether I would make the cut offs.
Saturday was a useful morning of course recce with Adam which really put my mind at ease regarding any steep hills on the course. I racked early afternoon in the driving drizzle which was pretty miserable. I was glad this time that transition was inside a tent so at least our bags were protected. I then had nothing to do with the rest of the day apart from worry so I took myself to Ironprayer. I met up with Caroline and Sarah there which was great and it did help ease my mind a bit.

Saturday night was another terrible sleep. I worried about how I was going to get from the finish to transition and then back to the B&B. My alarm went off but I was pretty much awake anyway. I got ready, attempted to eat something slowly and, after much checking, left the B&B. It was dark and cold. The amount of drunk people going home the other way was interesting! It was only as I got to the other end of the esplenade that I finally saw other athletes. I was one of the first into transition to sort my bike. Then I waited. I stood in someone's garage for a while trying to keep out of the cold and rain and that was when the message came through that they were cutting the swim short. Blast. They also delayed the start which meant more standing around in the rain. A combination of cold wind and rain meant most of us were shivering before we started. I spent a lot of time thinking about quitting but I couldn't face the faff of trying to find my bag etc. Plus apparently the sea was going to be warm in comparison!

The swim- Never gonna give you up

We started to move and eventually got to the start line. Once again I went through the beep, beep beep and go! Run into the water and start swimming. The sea was a maelstrom of waves and swimmers. I could hear someone behind me being reassured by a lifeguard. Someone tried to kick my goggles off but luckily was unsuccessful. The buoys were all over the place. I tried my best to swim in a straight line and sight but it was hard work. Every buoy was a concentration of legs, arms and bodies. One red buoy down - or was that the second, no there it is ahead. Round the second red buoy and back to the red arch. I started to motor towards the finish. I was very grateful for my years of experience surfing (well bodyboarding) on the Cornwall beaches as it meant I could use the forward propulsion of the waves to get me back to the beach. My coach had promised me a crystal clear sea and I had an irrational moment of thinking, "it's not bloody clear, I can't see anything!" The rough seas had churned up the water so much. I could feel the rain lash against my goggles every time I went to take a breath. I got into the beach, trying to keep low as long as possible, and when I got to stand up next to the assistant I got terrible cramp and almost fell back in the sea again. Luckily I managed to hobble under the arch and it eased almost instantly.
Into transition, which was heaving. I took this as a good sign that my swim was quick, or maybe it was just full of people making sure they'd put layers on before venturing out into the pouring rain. I'd packed arm warmers, a gilet AND a packable rain jacket and decided to put on the arm warmers and the rain jacket. Out into the rain, straight through a couple of puddles - wet feet already! - grab the bike and onto the mount line.

The bike - Never gonna let you down

Relive of the bike
Someone said before we started "This is going to be less of a question of endurance and more one of survival". The rain was absolutely lashing it down. Within about 5 minutes my glasses had steamed up and were positively dangerous. I had to take them off and put them in my back pocket (that was the last I saw of them 😢). Thank goodness for contact lenses. The first part of the bike ride just seemed to be mostly climbing but I tried my best to keep pedalling. I was surprised to find I wasn't feeling nauseous and this time made a much better effort with my nutrition, eating when I felt low and drinking whenever my alarm went off. I never managed to finish my water bottle between stops though. The food helped and made me power on through. The amount of people that I saw stopped, sorting out punctures, freezing in cars and minibuses was something else. Almost every marshall or corner seemed to be complete with at least one bike and sad looking rider. The aid stations were inundated with cyclists who had given up. The marshalls and volunteers did an absolutely amazing effort standing out in those conditions for hours. I started to feel wet and cold myself. My feet were freezing, but I actually decided that freezing wet feet were better compared to burning feet that I experienced in Hamburg. I decided to take ownership. This was MY country, these were MY roads and this was MY kind of weather. It could have been hypothermia speaking, but it helped me. I was also grateful to my hours of experience of cycling commuting in the pouring rain. My coach had told me to go aero as much as possible in the blowing wind and, as I infamously don't have any aero bars, I just crouched as low as I could. This helped me be far less of a sail I usually am... Eric (my bike) and me were having as good a time as we could. I only saw one race marshall on the course, I think the rest were attending to cyclists who had got stuck. I saw one poor lady at the side of the road who looked like she was in absolute floods of tears. I got songs going round my head "Something inside so strong" and
Strong enough to walk on through the night

There's a new day on the other side
I have hope in my soul
I keep walking baby, I keep walking baby
I thought to myself, no walking today. Then I realised those were the lyrics to "Relight my fire" and had an ironic smile that the one thing I really wanted right then was a nice warm fire!
Over half way round the promise of sunshine started - very faint glimmers but it was better than nothing. Then came Revels Hill. I'd been warned about this hill but in the Strava segment it really didn't look that bad. Oh but it was. Oof, what a climb. In the end, I had to focus on the cat eyes in the middle of the road and go from one to the next. It worked though (thanks Scott for that tip!) and soon enough I could hear the clanging bells from the supporters at the top of the bad climb. Unfortunately the hill wasn't quite over and there was a bit more climbing to do - not as bad as the start though. Made it over, phew, it's all downhill from here - allegedly - and the sun was definitely coming out. Some really nice descents and a couple of small climbs (one where my chain shifted weirdly making me have to walk up to the top, sigh!) and soon enough we were back on the main road and back into transition. Hooray! Just over the 4 h mark, I'll take that. 3 and a half hours to do the half marathon in, I can do that.
In transition I discovered I no longer had my glasses but there wasn't any time to worry about that. I'd packed a spare pair of clean socks - top tip for transition folks - and it was so nice to get some dry socks and shoes on. Just time for my now traditional one pit stop and off out on the run.

The run - Never gonna run around and desert you

Relive of the run
My feet were still totally numb. They felt so weird I was convinced that I'd managed to mess around with my insoles and was almost going to check them until I realised I just needed to wait until my feet defrosted. I suffered for a good km until someone ran past me and said "You're doing really well! Do you need a gel?" and I realised what I needed was something to eat. The peanut bars that had saved me in Hamburg were stored in a special running bag that I'd bought specifically for the purpose after they made a rather nasty hole in my back at Hamburg! I started eating bits of peanut bar and visualizing Stuart at the end of the promenade shouting at me to keep running and that I was doing well (sadly he couldn't make it down with me). The support of the crowd was something else. I realised this is why I love these events, random people just shouting your name and encouraging you to the finish. I suffered round the first lap and then the paracetamol and the peanut bars started to kick in. I started to feel better and felt like I could pick up the pace. So I decided to push it a bit harder. I thought, I might regret this, but let's give it a go. The sun kept shining, the crowds kept cheering, the route was as flat as flat can be. My average speed came down (I managed a negative split for the second half of the half marathon, almost unknown for me!). The second loop came and went, I started to feel hot. Then I remembered Hamburg and this wasn't even close to that. I saw Adam and he told me to smile while he took a photo. I was hoping that the bit of peanut bar I'd just eaten wasn't going to show in the photo!

Smile Hilary!

Round BustinSkin corner again, past the finish and back down the promenade. Last loop, thank goodness. Keep eating, drink at the aid stations, keep running. On my way back to the finish I start cheering the runners coming the other way - felt like there were quite a few people behind me, perhaps I won't be last this time. Back to BustinSkin corner for the last time, they were cheering so loud I decided to whirl my arms around to whip them up even further, what a cheer! Final straight to the finish, chuck some more cola down myself (I was very thirsty!) and over the line for a sub 8 h finish! Fastest time for a while! And a sub 3 h marathon. I was totally chuffed.

I finished and I didn't come last or even nearly last 😀

So, 7 years after my first Parkrun and 6 years after my first ever triathlon (super sprint!) it is time to hang up the trisuit for a while. This is not the end of my journey, more of a pause.

The End

(probably)

Thanks to

- Stuart who has put up with me coming in late, tired, hungry and often grumpy

- my coach Simon from Tri Force Endurance who seems to have managed to get me to not hate running

- the Greenwich Tritons, too many of you to mention, without whom I would never have got this far.

- work Microbiology Society, thanks for being flexible

Ironman Hamburg - Der Weg zur Hölle

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Wed, 01 Aug 2018 19:03:00 +0000

"The race format will now be changed to a Run – Bike – Run duathlon"
When you've spent all year training for a swim bike run to the point where I've been going to the lido at 7am before work, this news was pretty disappointing. Additionally, those who are previous readers of this blog might remember running is my least favourite discipline (to the point where I actually actively hated it but thankfully not so much any more). I'd only done one duathlon before and it wasn't an experience I wanted to repeat. It is what it is though. You can only control the controllables and I certainly couldn't control a load of toxic algae in a German lake.

I'd done 3120 km cycling, 560 km running and 188.2 km swimming this year and spent 320 hours training in the snow, rain and months of hot weather. The training had been done but the anxiety had started to get to me though on Saturday night and I found it hard to be around my fellow Tritons. I slept very badly, mostly because I was worried about whether I'd be able to get a pump for my tyres in the morning (I'd deflated my tyres because it was so hot).

When the time finally came to get up, I crashed around getting ready. I tried to eat something but I felt so nauseous. I made the mistake of trying to force too much porridge down which almost instantly came back up again. Not good. At least with the run-bike-run format I didn't have to worry about swim cap or the brand new goggles I'd had to buy at the last minute. I did notice a couple of people line up with swim cap on and goggles round their necks!

The run start was a bit chaotic. Nobody really knew where they were going. I lost Jodie after she walked off too fast for me and ended up milling around on my own. I found the timing pens and put myself in an early pen so to give me a bit more time to get round the course. The race started with the pro men first then the ladies. I reckon it took at least half an hour to get to the start where they were letting people off six at a time like they would if we were swimming.

We lined up, the whistle blew, and we were off! I tried to maintain marathon pace but I was a little fast in the end. Still much slower than most of the others. It was early but still warm. I was already suffering and wondering if there was going to be any aid stations. As we came back into the centre there was a water station - thank goodness - and we went around another block and into transition. At the turnaround point there were still some people behind me, including a guy who looked like he was hobbling in pain already.

Hamburg transition was incredibly long, with bags all at one end, then loos and long racks of bikes. I tried to change as quickly as possible from run shoes to bike and then grabbed my helmet and gloves to run to my bike.

Once out on Eric (my bike) I was not a happy bunny. The nausea I'd experienced earlier was still there with a menace and I really thought I was going to be sick. I just wanted to turn tail and go back to the hotel. At the second aid station I grabbed some coke and that helped ease my stomach and give me some much needed energy. The road was so long and featureless that I ended up focusing on the cyclists coming back the other way to keep me going. The only interesting part was the turnaround section where we went through a couple of villages and people were actually cheering.

Out to the Road to Hell again

Then back down the featureless road - for some reason it felt slightly downhill on the way back. The headwind on the way up seemed to be a headwind on the way back. It just went on forever and my feet started to burn. I remembered last year the first loop feeling better but not so much this time. Finally started coming into town, over the cobbles and under the bridge where Jodie's supporters were waiting along with Stuart to cheer me on. There was a loop through town, then back under the bridge which echoed with the cheering of Jodie's supporters! Through the cobbles and then back onto the featureless road. I renamed it the Road to Hell as it was so boring, and it was just getting hotter. I kept telling myself to suck it up. I'd written several mantras on my water bottle and I just kept going through them. Ride to cider was one that was helping. I began to fantasize about the bottles of fizz my parents had kindly given us and having a nice cold glass of champagne. Hot feet, sore legs, ride to cider, do it for cake. I even started the alphabet game, this time of Tritons. The Lizzies featured twice in this as I was sure at least one was an Elizabeth. Other honourable mentions were Rebeca, Thea and Gary. I struggled with Q and D ended up being (James) Donaldson because I couldn't think of anyone else. My bike handling skills must have come along because I was so hot at one stage I grabbed my water bottle out of the cage and poured it all over myself - you guys would have been so impressed. I saw Gary and Jodie on the course and a couple of other Tritons shouted my name as they whizzed past me. Burning feet, sore legs, ride to cider, do it for cake. This really was the road to hell, constantly spinning, where was that aid station? Suck it up. You paid for this. A to Z of bands fizzled out after Erasure. My feet are literally on fire. Drink more coke, eat something, where's the half way point? Those sheep look hot. I wished I was one of the Germans having a paddle in the river. Aid station, thank goodness, more water, throw some over me, more coke. Nausea is receding. Burning feet, sore legs, ride to cider, do it for cake. So hot. Musn't forget to drink and try to eat. I think my nutrition did suffer because my stomach was so in bits and I ended up eating when I felt a bit tired which wasn't a very good strategy at all - I should have eaten whenever my watch buzzed at me. 40 km to go, you can do this, it's just an Olympic distance cycle now. Burning feet, sore legs, ride to cider, do it for cake. How much more of this road to go? I remembered reading something about how tarmac reflects heat and wondered if it was actually hotter because of that. Believe, keep pedalling, put your head down and use that power. I decided I wasn't going to enter another race, that I needed to go back to the place where I loved cycling and wasn't constantly chasing cut off times. 30 km to go, how long was that? Only an hour maybe left to go? Usually I have songs going round my head but this time all I had was "he is a very model of a very stable genius" which made me go off on a tangent about whether geniuses were in general stable... 20 km to go, nearly there now, Rebeca will have left by now, where's the final aid station and the route into town? It was only at that point that I noticed that my aid station km notes were wrong because I'd written 190 km as the final aid station... given the course is less than 180 I knew that was incorrect!

Hmm something doesn't add up here

Final aid station, more water down my back, let's get into town. Over the cobbles, under the bridge - now empty, so I sang "All by myself" down it to echoes. Stuart was at transition waving me on, back out to do a quick loop through town, loads of people on the run course, and YES there was transition. I could finally come off my bike.
I smiled at Stuart and ran into transition. Racked the bike, and then ran to the bags. On the way was the portaloos so I had to have my now traditional only loo stop of the Ironman. Unfortunately I'd already taken one of my bike gloves off and one ended up falling into the portaloo. I was almost going to try and rescue it until I remembered that I was going to buy myself a new pair anyway and it wasn't worth getting any nearer the disgusting contents. At the change area, I ended up taking both bags off the hooks again (you get one for bike and one for run) for no particular good reason, put my bike stuff back in the bike bag and put my trainers on for the second time that day. I got the bags mixed up on the way back but the lady told me to leave them. She also put some sun tan lotion on me, and muttered something in German that included the word "rot" which even with my incredibly basic language skills I understood as red and that I might be burnt already.
Don't stop when you're tired, stop when you're done
Out onto the run then, and I'd already established from Stuart that I had 7 hours in which to complete the marathon. It started off ok but I really began to suffer round the first loop. I walked a lot. It was incredibly hot. There was a tune I used to sing "I had a tractor, the wheels fell off". Well, it felt as if the wheels had well and truly fallen off. About 6 km in Alex came past me and started to offer me the contents of his rucksack - a salt pill, some energy drink to swallow it down with, and even a peanut energy bar thing which I refused as I didn't want to eat something new on race day. It did remind me though that I probably hadn't eaten enough and thus Alex may have saved my marathon, because from then on I tried my hardest to eat food.
90% mental
Every aid station I walked through and grabbed water, ice, sponges, coke, iso and occasionally bananas. The bananas really helped. I grabbed too much ice from one aid station, chucked it all down the front of my top and then ended up almost giving myself cold shock! I didn't make that mistake again... The first loop was awful, still very hot, and although I saw most of my fellow Tritons and the Jodie cheering squad I was properly suffering. I even shouted at Gary and told him to give me a hug (sorry for making you turn around!). I told Stuart and he said "Do you want to quit?" and I said "I'll keep going and see how I get on". He also saved my marathon, because he told me if I kept walking I wouldn't make it before the cut off point. So I ran as best I could between the aid stations. Finally picking up my first band, I ran past the finish line and off out to my second lap.
Ironman is like a holiday only harder
My second lap was easier and I knew what to expect more. Still lots of people, many with three bands. I had a peanut bar of my own in my trisuit and this was the best thing ever. As my stomach was still a bit iffy the shot bloks were making it worse so I was so glad I'd stuffed this peanut bar in the back of my trisuit. I now knew every time I looped around I got the chance to run back into town and see Stuart, which was an incredibly powerful motivator to keep going. By the time I got to the third loop - the awkward loop as I thought of it - I felt OK.
If it was easy, it wouldn't be Ironman

Right then, out along the river, through the stinky tunnel, past the American embassy, past the retro bike trailer, past the aid station, through the two out and back loops, back towards Stuart, another aid station, the super posh hotel, the sign to Eppendorf (my scientist mind was really amused that there was a place called Eppendorf), on and on until finally back through the stinky tunnel, up the ramp which I walked every time, round and back past the Red Bull truck, and then through the aid station that had the lap bands. Repeat. Far fewer people on the course now, most had the dark blue band that meant they were on their last loop. The aid stations had started packing up which made me panic that we were running out of time. My £3.50 shades from Decathlon which I'd planned on chucking once they were uneccessary were quite happily sat on top of my head so I left them there (I actually think I've ended up with slight glasses chafe on the side of my nose!). I could feel my arms rubbing my trisuit every time I moved them but I had to keep going. I ended up with really bad chafing all along the inside of my arm from that. The sponges that they gave us which I stuffed down my top also started chafing so as soon as it started to get a little bit cooler I stopped taking sponges.
If you're going to cry, do it now
My quads felt so stiff by this stage. I thought, well, if they're going to cut us off at 14 h at least that means I don't have to run any more. As I ran past Stuart I asked him if the cut off was 14 h. He said no, and that I was doing really well. Blue lap band can mean only one thing, last lap time. Hurrah. Made it past the finish line and off I go back out again. The aid stations are still open, and there are only a handful of us on the course now. My average pace is truly awful, but I know I can make it to the end in time if I just keep jogging. I go past a couple of others who seem to be suffering. I try my best to offer words of encouragement but it's hard when you're not sure they understand English. One who doesn't seem to understand then does start to talk to me and we jog for a while together. Back through the stinky tunnel for the penultimate time and off towards the American Embassy. The lights start coming on and the aid stations aren't clearing away as much as they were earlier. I thank as many volunteers as I can in my broken German. Danke, Danke. Water, coke, iso. Salt. Next time I will buy salt tablets because pure salt or salt water is Grim. Although there is not going to be a next time, I remind myself. I'm never doing this to myself again. As I come back into town, there are a few people behind me, I clap them as I go past. One guy I go past I am sure says he is only on his third lap. I don't think he's going to make the cut off. So close now, only a Parkrun left to go. This should sound easy but in practice after you've been going for over 13 hours it really isn't. 38 km, we're getting there, past the posh hotel for the final time and I end up being caught up by the guys who would eventually finish just ahead of me. Another aid station, I mistakenly take a large gulp of Redbull (yuk!), and finally through the stinky tunnel for the last time. Up the hill, the Redbull station is now closed and gone home, although the sticky road is still there (yuk!).
Final furlong, last aid station and YES here is my last red band. I can now run down the finisher chute! The guys want to run with me "We run together!" but I can tell I'm slowing them down so I encourage them to go ahead. Here's the last corner, and there's the finisher chute! I am so bloody happy I made it! I am going to enjoy the moment, so I start leaping and dancing like a mad thing (no idea where I got the energy from) as I go past the volunteers giving them high fives and the immortal words... Hilary Logan, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN ring through the loud speakers. I jump through the finishing line with a massive smile on my face.

Barcelona 70.3 - If you try and fail, congratulations because most people don't even try

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Mon, 21 May 2018 21:12:00 +0000

Spoiler alert - this is not a happy race report. But I feel it's important to record the bad with the good.

This poster met me in Woolwich DLR a couple of days before Barcelona 70.3. It pretty much predicted how my race would go.

Rewind back a year, when (other members of) the Greenwich Tritons qualified for the Ironman tri club championship. Although we qualified last year, the race took part this year. I had originally planned to take a sabbatical from racing this year. However, redundancy and a bit of the good old Tritons peer pressure convinced me to enter.

The place booked, my body finally getting back to normal after Ironman Copenhagen, I started training again. Being unemployed meant I had a lot of time to train. I'd have coaching duties on a Thursday and get to the pool/gym three hours in advance so I could swim and go to the gym. I'd find the fast lane full of head up breastroke swimmers (or given to kids lessons) and the gym full of testosterone-fuelled males desperately to get a glance of their guns in the mirror!

When I finally got a job in March everything changed. No longer free to train when I wanted, I went back to work, train, sleep, repeat. I got up early to squeeze a swim in before work so I could also coach in the evening. I got home late and hungry countless times so I'm endlessly grateful to my lovely husband for feeding me!

My new job is very demanding and can be stressful (bear with me, this is important to the tale). As the time got closer to Barcelona, I discovered the cycling route was very hilly. This made me anxious because I have started to struggle getting out into the Kent countryside and I kept being dropped by my Tritons friends going uphill. The second concern was, what goes up must come down and if there's one thing I don't enjoy is going down steep descents. Especially when the phrase 'switchback'/hairpin bend is used. My final concern came when I saw the cut off points. How could I manage 21km/h when my usual speed round Kent was 18 ish? Yes there weren't traffic lights, but I knew I would struggle.
The anxiety built and along with the stress of work and trying to fit in training led to exhaustion. Our wedding anniversary celebrations involved me crashed out on the sofa after being broken by a long bike followed by a brick run on the end of a long week.
My trip to Barcelona finally arrived and I went out a day early deliberately so that I could see the city as I'd never been. I walked far further than I probably should have done. Friday involved building my bike, taking it out for a test spin, going to register and swimming in the slightly chilly Mediterranean sea. We went to the briefing where the talk of technical descents jangled my nerves even further. Garmin connect constantly told me I was experiencing high stress. Saturday was racking day, where you take your bike and everything else to transition and set up. I'd never had one transition before and I liked that. We then 'paraded' down the beach which seemed to end up with us walking about 500m waving our flags and then standing around before being sent back.
Sunday started with not much sleep (noisy outside revellers) and a total bag of nerves. I made my way down to breakfast ready to leave. It took a while for us all to get down to transition, sort bikes and get to the beach. I went into the water briefly to get acclimatized - still cold! More waiting anxiously while the pros started and the fast people went off. Then finally it was our time. Good luck everyone, beep beep beep... run into the water. There are a lot of people swimming with me despite the rolling start and it's a washing machine, a maelstrom of hands, arms, legs and bodies. People keep trying to swim across me, knock me so my watch stops and it's chaos. First turning point done I find some clear space and try to get into a rhythm. It works until more legs and bodies get in my way. The salt water tastes horrible and keeps being forced in my mouth by flailing arms. I notice several hats which have fallen off (they were the smallest caps you've ever seen). I get a bit fed up with swimming but finally the turnaround buoy comes along and now we're swimming into the very very bright sunshine. You can't even see the final buoy so I navigate by the intermediate buoys and hope that those in front are going the right way. Yippee there's the buoy, now to turn in and get out of this brawl. I'm out in 43 minutes, happy with that, now into transition.
Transition is a faff - I think next time I won't bother with a cycling top because it doesn't go on very well over wet skin. In the end it took about 6 minutes so I'm sure there's time there I could save.
Out onto the bike, here we go then. The first rolling hills were familiar after a quick spin on Thursday but then we turned inland. As we started to climb my legs just felt like they had nothing in them. The swim had tired me more than expected. I tried a shotblok, which seemed to help. Got to the first aid station, grabbed some water, carried on. The first climb started and it just seemed to go on and on. I looked at the distance and thought, this can't go on for much longer? My average speed started to decrease worryingly. I had to keep to 21 kph, but I was at 18. I shouted at the hill. Then I started to notice my saddle was slowly sinking. As bad as I am on hills, I'm even worse when my saddle is too low. With another 2km to the top I decided to pull over and fix it. Much better. Finally reaching the top, the pros were descending into the valley. They'd got round the majority of the course before me! I started to descend, this doesn't seem too bad, and caught a couple of cyclists up. I'm enjoying myself and powering on through. My average speed is poor and I think I will be cut off.
However, I wasn't prepared to be stopped at the first cut off point and told race over.
I look at my watch and see that I am 4 minutes over the cut off time. There are shocked and cross faces around me as others are stopped. As we're at the race intersection, I see James who's had a bad day with a couple of punctures and Duncan who was blue carded for drafting when he was overtaking. We wait for the coach, which I dub the 'coach of shame' to pick us up. As we're all still a bit wet we start to get cold so I move into the sunshine and cheer any Tritons I spot on the bike course. Eventually we get on the bus. I have a lot of time to think. I feel ashamed, embarrassed and a failure. I curse the hills, my overweight body and wonder whether I really should call myself a Triton or if my coach is going to want to continue with me after this. I wonder if I should come back to Barcelona again and beat the hills. I worry about Hamburg, the Ironman I'm doing in July, and whether I'll be able to do it. I am desperate for my phone, to tell everyone I'm still alive but it's in my white bag at the finish line. Which I'll never get to go through. I worry about the lady in front of me, who was coughing so badly that she coughed up blood and passed out while we were waiting. I worry about Lucy, who never came past me and one of the ladies stopped with me said she was being taken care of by a Spanish family somewhere down the hill. Most of my time was spent beating myself up and thinking what a waste of time, energy and money this whole thing was.
Looking back on it a day later, I am still disappointed. But I wonder if it was the stress, the mechanical, perhaps the zone 2 training which just encourages my body to go slow or a combination of factors. I would like to do another 70.3 before Hamburg so we'll see.
Sunday was not my day. I live to fight another day.

VO2 sportive – Here I go again on my own

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Sat, 07 Apr 2018 21:00:00 +0000

“Here I go again on my own

Goin’ down the only road I’ve ever known…”

As I started up the car on Sunday Whitesnake told me something I already knew. I’d be doing this ride on my own. The VO2 sportive has to be my favourite sportive, as it takes in the majestic Ashford Forest and the climbs/descents aren’t too technical, just long and dragging. Usually, there are several Tritons entered, but I think because the event fell on the Easter Sunday everyone else was busy. I’d spent about an hour trying to convince myself to get into the car and go because I was a little terrified of going up and over Toys Hill, but I’d managed to convince myself that I’d done the back of Toys several times in the past so I could do it again.

I got to the car park and instead of the usual manic crowd of participants there was a handful of people. No queues for the ladies or anything. It was bizarre. The start, instead of going out the school exit, was out through the finish line which also almost caught me out. Two minutes before we were due to start I got into the queue, the guy told us there was a small change to the course, and we were off! This time we didn’t get sent off the wrong way and went off towards Tonbridge and Shipbourne. Lots of cyclists came past me, but I wasn’t worried as I wasn’t planning on going too fast. I always forget how long Shipbourne is. The corner where I think it is is actually the end of a very long drawn-out climb. By this stage most people had come past me already. I cycled past the deer park, trying to look out for deer (all I saw were walkers) and then down what I used to call “Death Hill”. I was still on edge and not really enjoying myself at this stage. We didn’t take the direct route to Ide Hill once we crossed the main road and I did get a bit confused by the signs at one stage, which for no particular good reason made my chain fall off as I stopped to check. A couple of ladies came past me, and I tried to catch them up after I’d sorted my chain to no avail. I kept seeing them in the distance. Finally after going past Bough Beech reservoir I started to climb up to Ide Hill. There always seems to be a white house half way up these hills, where either the road starts to flatten out or get steeper. The rest stop was a sight for sore eyes and I was very grateful to get some more water, grab some sweets and go for a “comfort break”. The ladies that I had been following were just leaving as I got there, I’m sure there were three but now there were only two.

Ok, I thought, now let’s do Toys and go home. Down Ide we go, starting to enjoy myself a bit more, through Brasted… there’s the left hand turn, but no signs. Do I go on? Oh, don’t tell me I don’t have to do Toys! I thought, right, I’ll carry on into Westerham and hope that we get to go over Hosey hill instead (a favourite for my rides with Rebeca last year). Out of Brasted, the road gets busy with traffic and I hope that I am going the right way. A guy, let’s call him Grey Man, comes up behind me and says “I think this is right” and lo and behold here are the signs directing us towards Hosey instead. I start to smile. We start to ride up Hosey. I notice the bluebells aren’t showing yet – perhaps a few leaves in the woods is all. The guy overtakes me and then stops somewhere near the top. I shout to him “Nearly there now” and a few minutes later he comes up behind me. He starts to draft but I tell him I’m far too slow for that and that he can overtake me! It turns out he’s doing the short route. He asks where the turning point is and observes that it seems we’re cycling in circles. I think to myself, more like a loop. We get to the turning point where we have to choose the short or the long route. Another older guy who has joined us has also stopped. Grey Man says, “So are you doing the short or the long route?” Older guy says “It seems a shame not to take the long route”. Up to this point I was just going to cut my ride short and do the shorter loop. However, there is that bit of me that remembers my favourite bit of the whole ride is down the long route and up into Ashford Forest. That bit of me agrees with the older guy and decides, why not?

Within about two seconds the older guy has disappeared into thin air and I’m left on my own cycling into Edenbridge wondering if I’ve made the right choice. I could always turn around and go back to the turning point? No, I’ve made my decision. If the sweep wagon catches me up, he can pick me up and take me back.

It isn’t much further before the sweeper van does catch up with me. He comes past, shouting out his window “Are you OK?” I ask him whether he’s the sweeper van, and he confirms he is. I say I’m fine. He continues to follow me, picking up signs every now and then which slows him down. We get stuck in a traffic jam behind a rather beautiful steam wagon which it turns out was going to a local fair. I lose the sweeper van for a while again. I think to myself, OK, I’ll get up Chuck Hatch, then hopefully I can take a photo, and I’m happy if he needs to take me off the road. He finds me again on Chuck Hatch. Again, he asks me if I’m OK, and I ask if I can get to the top of the hill. He says that’s fine. Every now and again I see him out the corner of my eye as I heave my way up Chuck Hatch (to be fair I’m actually faster than I was last year!) and wave to him when I do. Nearer the top he shouts that he’s going to wait at the aid station. Aid station I think, I’m sure there wasn’t one of those last year. I get to the top. Hooray! I take a photo.

Then I look for him, he’s at the very final car park, eating an ice lolly. No aid station, surprise surprise. I stop and chat to him. I ask if he has to pick me up. Apparently I have 45 minutes to get to the Groombridge stop before I get pulled off the course, and if I feel up to it I can carry on. I decide to carry on, despite being “midly broken”. This is the furthest I’ve been for a while and I’m actually starting to enjoy myself and relax a bit on the bike. After all, most of the next section is downhill. Most. Plus the sweeper van has most of his lolly to finish before he starts to follow me again.

I whizz down the hill and then encounter the rolling sections of Lye Green. Very soon I see the characteristic lights of the sweeper van slowly following me. I watch the time creep down slowly. I’m reminded of doing this ride with Mel three years ago, this is where she really started to struggle. Finally I get to Groombridge, hooray I think, but I still have the long hill after Groombridge before I get to the aid station. Where is the aid station? Ugh. Another corner and there it is, hooray. I’ve made it with 10 minutes to spare. The lady there is really nice, she asks if I’m OK. I say as I’ve said to the nice man following me that if I need to be taken off the course I’m fine with that. She explains that they want people to finish if they can and gives me the option to finish but not have to go up Hubbards Hill. At this stage I’m really not bothered about having to go up Hubbards so I happily agree to her plan. I will follow her through a short cut and to the finish. I cycle off as it’s clear that she will catch me up before I need to take the short cut. Soon I see her car overtake me and I start to follow her to the end. I even have a bit of time to take in my surroundings and recognise that this part of the countryside is truly pretty. I really am enjoying myself now, even though I’m tired and sore. As we cross the main road I start to recognise the area and start to smile even more. There’s the entrance to the centre, and the finish! Hooray! Nearly 5 and a half hours after I’d started… but on 97 km. This may sound a bit crazy, but I was determined to go over the 100 mark. So I then spent the next 5 or so minutes cycling up and down the road until the distance marker showed 100!

I cannot thank the organizers of this event enough for their help and patience while I pootled round their course. I hope I’ll be there again next year.

Ironman Copenhagen - blood, sweat, tears and rain

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Thu, 24 Aug 2017 21:08:00 +0000

How could it be August 20 already? I'd spent my entire year training to get to this point but I still didn't feel ready. The days before I'd felt like a fraud, all these fit athletes and then me. I'd been emotional, stressed and walked so far I was exhausted - and yet I had an Ironman to go. The weather prediction was looking awful which didn't help.
The alarm went off at 4am. I did sleep a bit, not particularly well, and picked up my carefully prepared trisuit to change. I tried to force down the cold porridge I'd prepared the day before (the kitchen was closed that early in the morning) while I got my bottles and myself ready. We got to the metro only to be faced with a fairly full train of athletes and supporters. It only got worse with every station until it felt like the Central line at rush hour, rammed like sardines.

We somehow managed to squeeze off at the right station with everyone else and walked towards the rising sun and a bridge covered in giant green balloons. I sorted my nutrition, gave my white bag in and made my way to the start. Finally I saw Gary, Ric, Tom and Stuart who were waiting for their start. Gary tried to encourage me to go in for a practice swim but I didn't want to get cold. I did test the water and it was warmish.

I waved bye to the guys who were in a wave in front of me and waited my turn. It was just a swim, a bike and a run, right? Soon enough we were called for our wave, I washed my goggles (finally getting them less foggy!) in the bucket of water and then beep, beep, beep we were off! I dove into the water and started swimming. It felt like an age even to get to the first big yellow buoy but then we turned towards the first bridge, which was the one with the green balloons we'd walked over earlier. Each bridge had a distance marked on it which was kind of helpful but also reminded you how much further you had to go. At the bridge you had to scramble for space as we were squashed together and then we were released for the next long age to the next bridge. When we eventually got to the final bridge, hooray there was another big yellow buoy and we could turn around and swim back. On and on the swim went, slowly but surely getting back past the green balloon bridge and then past the exit to the final bridge. Hooray as I saw the distance marker, only an Olympic distance swim to go. Forward and back swimmers were now parallel with each other and some guy came swimming straight towards me on the wrong side of the barrier. I tried to shout a warning to him but I have no idea if he heard me. Onwards I went, feeling a bit tired and wondering how the ladies who went down the Thames managed 14 k of this. Round the last dead turn and now all we have to do is get to the swim out. Weeds getting stuck in my hands, last big yellow buoy and where's the exit? No that's the entry, there's the exit, no more weeds for me, through transition with the largest glob of chamois cream you ever saw, cycling shorts on over the top, grab my helmet, nutrition and glasses, put my shoes on and off I go to grab my bike.
Did I remember to check my tyres in the morning? Do they feel a bit strange? Ah well I'm cycling now there's nothing I can do about it and it doesn't feel like they are flat. My back aches already, keep an eye on your average speed, don't forget to eat and drink something every 15 minutes when the watch reminds me. The sun comes out and I idly wonder if I should have put some sun cream on. We hit the sea and it's lovely. Not as flat as I'd expected and I suspect the wind is more head on than southwesterly. A guy called Sergio keeps overtaking me then slowing down much to my annoyance, particularly just when a marshall comes past us on their motorbike and I have to slow so it doesn't look likve I'm drafting. I go past him again and keep pedalling. My water bottle has various mantras on it including 'shut up legs' but I'm thinking it should be more 'shut up back' perhaps the long swim has hurt my back. I try to stretch out but it's not easy when you're pedalling. We start to head inland and again it's more rolling than I'd expected. We go past lovely villages and aid stations where I take on water. I have a scrawl on my bike of all the aid stations and where the 'hill' is - about 80 km in. I'm keeping good average speed now where is this hill? Lots of faster cyclists go past, some with the thrub thrub thrub of a disc wheel. We go through a funny little village with chicanes and bored looking young marshalls. Ah here's the hill, people either side, cheering me on. It's not much really and it's lots of fun and then a great downhill the other side. Get to 90 km, where's the split point, feeling pretty good apart from my aching back, should make the first lap cut off without too much bother. We start coming back into town, did I miss the second lap? Finally there it is, off I go for another roll around the Danish countryside. My average speed has slowed a little so I make an effort to try and push harder. I go past some poor soul crashed out on the ground with medics round him. Lots of puncture mending going on as well, thank goodness for my four seasons tyres I think. I feel sorry for those who look particularly forlorn at the side of the road and hope I haven't kaiboshed my tyres being grateful for no punctures. The kilometres tick by and I'm just pedalling. My speed gets lower so I have to push on. Magic beans are round the corner says my bottle, no surrender to the pain or the desire to stop. We start going inland again, over 120 km done only 60 to go. I can do this. Then the sky goes black. Uh oh, I think. Please pass over, please pass over. 5 km later the heavens just open. I have never experienced anything like it. The wind, rain and thunder just hit me like a sledgehammer. Rain turned to hail and I raise my left arm to the sky and say 'Really?!?' It felt like the bit in the Truman Show where he gets stuck on a boat in a massive storm and he says 'Is that the best you can do?!?'. There is nothing I can do but keep going and be very grateful to the poor marshalls who were having to stand in the drenching rain. I was also in some pain by this stage. My right hip - usually the good one - was hurting, my back no longer wanted to crouch over the handlebars and my feet were sore. Where was this blasted hill? Keep your head down and keep pedalling. No surrender. Magic beans are round the corner. Don't be sh@t. I can, I will, end of story. Taiwolf rules. Look Jim, I'm down on the hoods... Oh maybe not! Where's that bloody hill? 50 km to go, that'll take me two hours... No that's not helping! Beep, keep eating even if the rain has turned your protein blocks into wet mush. Ah here's the hill, much emptier than earlier, the man saying something about us having pedalled for so long. Whee downhill, we must be getting in to town now, less than an Olympic to go, let's do this. I'm now doing overtake/be overtaken with a guy in a Hong Kong suit on a fancy bike and aero helmet. I reckon he must be suffering too. Yes yes, here's the sign to Copenhagen, here's the split point, coming up to 180 km, where's T2? Where are the runners? Here they are. Someone shouts 'Go on Hilary!' which is picked up by one runner and then another, who I recognise as Gary as I whizz past. Here's transition and hooray I can finally get off my bike.

Change my shoes and wet socks for dry ones, change nutrition and here I go for my marathon.
My longest run in training was 22km so I knew I'd be in an unknown zone for at least half the race. I'd calculated that to make the 6 hour time I'd have to do a pace of around 8 and a bit (I'd forgotten how much the bit was!) min/km and had set my watch to give me an average speed. I was pretty sure Jim had told me I could walk through every aid station so I did. The course was 4 and a half loops which took in a building site past the library which was very quiet apart from a lady dancing around in a Wonder Woman outfit, then past Stuart and Carsten cheering me on then the canal with bars which was the best bit of the course as had most support, past the theatre and then the finish zone and back out past a massive fountain and a short uphill section which I also walked, the mermaid statue and a very quiet section that seemed to go on forever until finally I got a band. Then back into town, rinse and repeat again and again. I saw Gary on my first and second laps and he stopped and gave me a hug. Stuart and Carsten were doing their very best to cheer me on in town as well. Stuart kept telling me I was doing really well and I'd be fine with the time I had. However, by the second lap I knew I was close to time so I just had to keep running. I was so worried about not making the cut off time. I also knew everyone was watching me via the tracking app. I even raised my hands to the sky and said 'I'm trying!'. I saw Gary on his final few kilometres actually running to the finish. Going past the finish every lap was pure torture, with shouts of 'You are an Ironman!'. Then the rain came again absolutely torrential. There was nothing to it, again, head down, keep going. You can do this. One more step. Just keep running otherwise you'll not hear those words. I'm not an energizer bunny but I have to dig in. Yes, another band, this is the furthest I've ever run, please never make me do this again, it's going to hurt tomorrow. It's getting dark now. I go past the canal and a marshall tells me to watch my step. Two seconds later, CRASH I'm on my side. Ouch that bloody hurts. Well done I've just added to my list of aches and pains. I pick myself up and start running again, cursing myself. It was at this point I started running with Eliot. Eliot was a lifesaver and really managed to convince me that we were going to do this. Eliot was (originally) a Welshman who was participating in his very first triathlon. To do an Ironman as your very first triathlon is a concept beyond my imagination. We ran/walked in the (very) dark down the lap band loop. Eliot was warning me to be careful over the cobbles. Hooray, final band on and then we can run/walk back to the centre. I start feeling a bit stronger so Eliot lets me run on ahead (maybe he was fed up with my whingeing!) back through the dark. I try and cheer on runners coming the other way but one poor soul doesn't look where he's going and ends up in a massive puddle. I just can't stop, I feel bad but have to keep running. I have an hour to complete 5 k. That's doable, right? Less than a parkrun to go. A marshall starts cycling next to me and I think this is like Edinburgh again but surely I'm not the last runner this time? He chases off a taxi on the wrong side of the road and cycles off. Back into town, nearly there, past the finish line and then back off to the building site. The crazy lady dressed in a Wonderwoman suit has gone. Another crazy guy tries to tell me that I only have 9 minutes to go before the race is finished. I know this is untrue and thankfully Eliot and whoever is running with him tell him off for lying. So close now, less than 2 km to go, we're on the last section. Watch my feet on the cobbles, the trip hazard has gone, round the theatre and there's the finish, YES I can finally go down the finishing straight, damn there's someone right in front of me but I'm not slowing down now.
HILARY YOU ARE IRONMAN!
I've bloody done it! I can't believe it! I get given a silver blanket and someone hangs a medal round my neck. I only find out later that it was the winner of the race giving me the medal.

If you enjoyed this blog I'd love for you to give towards the Stroke Association https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/hilary-logan. Thank you!

Edinburgh 70.3 - Brutal

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Mon, 03 Jul 2017 15:41:00 +0000

Back in the winter, they announced that a new 70.3 Ironman race was coming to Edinburgh. Oooh, I thought. I know people up there, let's enter! I didn't even bother to look at the race profile or think about it any further. As the days got closer, stories of a very technical bike course with a 17% descent began to fill me with apprehension...

Race day dawned bright but cold and windy. So windy that the waves had white horses and they had already warned us that the swim might be shortened due to the conditions.

Looking over the swim course with a rainbow

Dark clouds were coming in from Edinburgh but we didn't get any rain, just rainbows. Eventually they told us that they were shortening the swim for both age groupers and pros to 900 m as the water temperature was wavering around 12 degrees and due to safety considerations. Race start was self seeding so I placed myself around 3/4 of the way back as I knew I wouldn't be the fastest out of the water. I was so grateful that Andy was there as well - fellow Greenwich Triton - although swim start was the only time I would see him on the race course that day!

Andy and I at the start... looking remarkably cheery

When we finally got in the water - after being buffeted by the cold wind for a good hour or so - it was cold but my first concern was the giant waves! I have never seen anything quite like it! I took a couple of mouthfuls of sea water before I realised that I was going to have to do breastroke every few front crawl strokes to a) actually be able to breathe and b) see where I was going. I used to surf in the sea in Cornwall but I've never had to race under such conditions. I can tell you it was a relief to get to the end buoy and turn around to come back. It was absolutely brutal. I could see people hanging on to kayaks and one guy being driven back to shore on a boat and absolutely understood why they didn't feel they could swim any more. I just kept slogging on through the waves, trying not to breathe in too much water and finally made it to the last orange buoy and - what relief - swam into shore. It was only when I started scrambling up the beach did I notice my feet were totally numb... I was told later that 40-60 people started the swim but had to either be rescued or gave up even trying to get to the first buoy.

I ran into transition, trying to get some warmth back into my body, and started faffing with my stuff. I seem to have joined the Gary Shaw Transition Academy because it took me 9 minutes to get through transition to my bike... For next time I think I need a) those compression socks so that I don't have to faff with socks and calf guards (if it's cold again); b) gloves that have velcro instead of being so tight it's a battle to get them on; and c) consider putting any nutrition I don't want in the bento box in my trisuit before I start the swim.

Happy on the bike!

On to the bike then, and the first part was a nice easy flat stretch of road along the sea which put you into a false sense of "well this is nice, let's power on through"... Bad idea, and I knew it, because I'd read the cycle recce that Grace/Silent Wolf had posted and knew that there was a very technical loop coming up. I was looking for Garvald/Gifford and soon enough it appeared... not far after a water stop which I ignored because I was planning on only stopping at one (BAD idea!). We went past all the faster cyclists coming the other way and then started the loop. This is where the ride turned into the bastard (apologies!) love child of the Kentish Killer, the VO2 and Malaga. Those of you who aren't Greenwich Tritons, you may not get these references but essentially it was hilly with some wicked descents and climbs like the Kentish Killer, the views of the VO2 but prettier and the winds - oh the winds - of Malaga. The wind which had whipped up the sea seemed to be deciding it was going to make our lives difficult on the bike as well, and there were a few points where I caught a cross wind and wobbled a little! When the sun came out it was warm but when it went in I did wish I'd packed my arm warmers in the transition bag! I was extremely grateful for all the training rides I'd done in Kent which more than anything made me feel like I could get through this. I saw so many people pushing their bikes up some of the hills - and several more saying, "Not another hill!". About half way through the Gifford/Garvald loop I ran out of water which was bad so next time I am definitely going to stop at the water stop and fill up again. I didn't really understand though why they only half filled the electrolyte bottles... The spectators were amazing and, even though we essentially closed down their villages for the day, they were out cheering even us the slower ones on to the finish. I was particularly amused by the Cockenzie cheerers who appeared to have taken the pots from their trangias and were "playing" them with wooden spoons!
I finally found the second water stop and gratefully took on some water and electrolyte drink. A guy behind me started to voice concerns about the cut off points. I thought, never mind that, let's just get through the next 40 km. They promised it would be downhill from there, but they were lying... We went through someone's estate which was very bizarre but a nice track, before making our way into town. We even ended up on a footpath at one stage, and a very tricky downhill followed by a tight turn into an uphill, which luckily I had changed down for but I think it caught quite a few people out - I'm so used to the inevitability of an uphill after a downhill that I was prepared! I was so glad when my bike computer told me we had 10 km to go and I could see Arthur's Seat looming in the distance. When we got into the park (and once again been falsely told it was all downhill from there!) we could see runners coming the other way who were cheering us on. Once again we had to climb yet ANOTHER hill to get round the back of Arthur's Seat and then finally a sweet downhill to transition. I'd made it in time before the cut off - somehow. I'd half hoped that I might not make the cut off so I didn't have to get running, but once again I'd managed to make it in time.

Suffering on the run

So out on the run and my woes were not behind me. Running is - and always will be - my weakest leg. I had pretty much left my heart out on the bike course and I was exhausted. The first loop was busy, with lots of other runners and people cheering us on. I did quite a lot of walking as for some reason I'd managed to get myself into panic breathing mode and felt like I couldn't breathe at all. So I tried to take some deep breaths and slowed myself down to try and wash some of the panic away. It really didn't help for most of my first lap, and I did just over 6 km in an hour... as I said I'm not a great runner. The run seemed to involve lots of hills, including a trip through a very dark tunnel - the Innocent railway - which had lights and music at the end to help us on our way! There were all these marker boards telling us how far we had got - which was extremely unhelpful when you're on your first lap and it's telling you how far it was on the third lap! The second lap was much quieter and I was aware that if I didn't complete it within an hour I'd be cut off, so I tried harder to run and - thankfully - the panic breathing attacks eased. By this stage it seemed that all the marshalls knew my name so were cheering me on which was a massive boost and helped to spur me on and keep me running as much as I could. My hip started to twinge a bit - during training I've been having such bad hip issues I've had to limp home half way through my run sessions - so I stopped to walk for a bit for that as well. Somehow I managed to make it round the second lap within the cut off time - again! and started out on what was quite a lonely third lap. I say that but on this lap the support was totally off the scale. I'd never seen anything like it in all the races I've been to. Even the marshalls running towards me with water to help me through my race and the lady who'd clearly been standing at the very last turn for hours jiggling around and cheering us on - thank you from the bottom of my heart. From that turning I was the last runner so I was joined by a couple of cyclists and then I became aware of the triathlon official who was also following me. When I ran, he ran, and when my breathing or my hip stopped me, he walked with me. It cheered me up no end - even though I was last - and once I was out of the tunnel I did start to run again and managed to catch a couple of people who had started to struggle. The official stuck with me even though I had overtaken them until he decided that I was definitely on the move and was getting closer to the finish line. Once I knew I was getting closer (it's all downhill from here - yeah right!) I pretty much ran the whole way knowing it was nearly over. Then there was the iconic finishing straight with the red carpet and the Ironman chute... I was so happy I could almost cry. I had done it! I was the last lady but I had finished.

Yay finished!

Afterwards I discovered that around 40 people had not finished their swim, and that over 100 had not finished the race. Several had not made the cutoffs. Apparently some were saying it was the toughest course they had ever raced - even worse than Wimbleball!

I did wake up this morning thinking, well what's next? The answer to this of course is Ironman Copenhagen. Will I be able to sort my breathing issues out before then? I very much hope so. I'll be back on the training and long rides later this week no doubt.

Some (slightly dull) thank yous:
Stuart - thank you to my lovely husband for all your support and help. I don't think I would have made it round the run without your encouragement.

Rebeca - thank you for being a riding buddy and showing me some new routes and especially for my treat ride round Ashdown Forest for my birthday. Also for showing me the "deer park" ride which I have been using and might well be using for quite a lot of my practice rides! I am very grateful that you dragged me out of bed and found some "magic beans" to encourage me to come out for a ride.

Andy - for being a fellow Triton in a strange town and cycling with me to T1, it was great to have a friend at the start and during the Saturday faffing around.

Thea - for being a great swim buddy and waiting for me even though you're a much better swimmer than I.

Lucy - for helping me with my core strength so I could actually feed myself on the bike.

To all my fellow Tritons - I'm going to forget someone but particular thanks to Gary, Scott, Jim (for his coaching help), and of course Coach W.

To the supporters and marshalls on the course - THANK YOU for all of your support and massive cheering - you have no idea how much it helped. Especially to the official who ran with me at the end which really spurred me on to start running to the finish.

The Ironman Edinburgh 70.3 Facebook page - especially Grace and Silent Wolf for all of your recce guides and help and support over the past few months. It really helped me prepare for the race and made me aware of the dangers!

My lovely godfather - who let us stay in his apartment even though he wasn't there for the majority of the weekend.

If you'd like to support me towards my Ironman goal I'd love for you to give towards the Stroke Association https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/hilary-logan. Thank you!

Work, sleep, train, repeat

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Wed, 24 May 2017 16:29:00 +0000

Note: I "wrote" most of this while doing a 3700 m swim - I had A LOT of time to think!

Ironman. Anything is Possible®

That's what they say. And after watching my friends Lucy, AJ and Rebeca last year I actually believed it. Last year, given that I'd gone up a distance every year since I'd started triathlons, was probably supposed to be my Ironman year, but I'd decided Ironman wasn't for me. Then I saw my friends do it and for some reason I thought, well if they can do it so can I.

Really?

At 17 stone, 6'3 I'm not exactly what you would term "athletic"

Plus as much as I love to cycle I hate running and value my free time, especially the precious time I can snatch with my husband who works shifts so I hardly get to see let alone have actual quality interaction with.

I like lie ins. I like "duvet days". I particularly like that we have Sky Movies so I can watch a whole slew of films if I really want to (and the blasted remote works!). None of this is particularly marking me as Ironman material. But, after discussing it with triathlon friends, my husband and even work I decided to enter Ironman Copenhagen.

I still don't know why. Every now and then I remind myself that the first triathlon I ever entered I specifically chose a super sprint with a 2.5 k run "because 5k sounded too far". Now I've entered one that includes A BLOODY MARATHON!
Longest I've ever run is 22 km, the last part through a forest shouting to the trees 'Will this EVER end?!'

I'm going to pause here because I think (hope!) some of you might be muttering at the screen 'But you don't look like that any more! '. To you I say this:

The story of how I got on my bike and lost a load of weight (only to put some of it back on again) is one for another day. And yes I do know my saddle is low in this photo.

So I spend my weeks going to work and then going straight out to train in the evening. I come home tired, hungry and often a bit grumpy (hangry!). I am endlessly grateful to my husband for putting up with me and for making me dinner when he can. My weekends seem to involve epic cycling tours of the gorgeous Kent countryside after dragging myself out of bed. I come home in the afternoon, and after a less enjoyable run (read: shuffle) round the local area I finally get to have a wash and a sit down. By this time, it's usually around 4 pm. I am hungry but confused. Is it lunch time? Is it tea time? I have no idea.

So I work, train, sleep (and eat) on repeat. My friends have gone from wanting to go out for a beer and curry on a Friday night to wanting to go out for Parkrun and brunch (or ride and possible cake!) on a Saturday morning. My Friday nights seem to now involve going to the freezing cold docks for a swim... I spend a lot of time exhausted and without my friends I don't think I'd make it out of the door. So thank you Tritons, for getting me prepared for "that endurance thing" that my parents seem to think I'm doing.

On a more personal note, I am raising money for the Stroke Association https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Hilary-Logan after a relative had a stroke last year and has had difficulty communicating since. The Stroke Association push for greater awareness of stroke and its warning signs and campaign for better stroke care.

With champs like these, baby we were born to swim/bike/run

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Mon, 19 Sep 2016 17:12:00 +0000

My last triathlon of the season was the Greenwich Tritons sprint club championship. This was at Leybourne, a lovely lake and a nice flat-ish course.
Given it was a sprint distance and I'd done two middle distance triathlons this year, I wasn't too nervous in the run up. Mostly I was exhausted having had not much sleep all week. I was fully expecting to come fifth out of the five Triton girls entered and looking forward to a nice short race just for a change. The nerves did eventually kick in on Friday night just as I was unsuccessfully trying to catch up with my lack of sleep!
The day dawned grey, windy and dreary, by which time we were on our way to the lake. I registered and began to rack up, at which point I realized I had left my aero bottle at home. I know at this stage I really should have learnt to drink from a bottle cage but for me this was going to mean a very thirsty bike ride!

Some of the Tritons before the race - I managed to sneak in the back!

The swim: "Where's my lightning bolt Scott, no corkscrew turns either"

I named this because Scott the swim coach had been testing our sighting using letters and images (including lightning) on a piece of paper. He'd also been teaching us different ways of turning round a buoy. The swim was a complete mosh pit, there were people kicking and punching everywhere, despite me putting myself near the back. Someone tried to swim over me so I apologise but I might have kicked them!
I got out the swim after 18 minutes, slower than my previous times. My transition was terrible due to my wetsuit not coming off quickly and I faffed a bit too...

Bike: It's not how it used to be (in a good way)

Once I got on the bike I remembered how I'd brought it down to Leybourne about the second time I'd ridden it and wobbled round the cycle course in a "make or break" test. I've spent so much time on my bike since then I am much more confident and much better balanced (although not so much that I can get my water bottle!). I essentially tried to push the bike as hard as I could as I knew my run leg was going to be poor. Number 90 and I were chasing each other all the way which gave me a great marker to follow. I spotted Lizzie W at the side of the road and hoped she didn't have a puncture after our discussion about whether we would bother to change a puncture earlier! Thankfully she just had a dropped chain so no having to faff with changing tyres...
Number 90 eventually got ahead of me and I miraculously didn't have to stop at any of the roundabouts and I finally got back into transition, only to see one of the other Tritons, James, finishing their race already!

Run: Doing it for the fun of it -What else would we be doing on a dreary Saturday morning?

My transition this time was fast and I actually came out onto the run before number 90 and a couple of others (no idea what they were doing). They of course came past me in no short order soon afterwards while I was struggling with jelly legs (that'll teach me not to do any brick sessions - or in fact any running - recently). My run was the slowest I've done for a long while there, but not too bad relative to my recent 5k times, just seem to have got really slow, something to work on over the winter I guess. I went past this lady who had two dogs, one of was "hopping" or perhaps bounding with its two front feet - very odd! I then ran past the Dartford Whiteoak tri lady who had told us earlier in transition she loved triathlon - so much so she had done a marathon during the week, was off to do another marathon that afternoon, and was due to line up for Thorpe Park triathlon the next day! I absolutely empathised with her and told her she was doing really well as I ran past.
On my run back towards transition on my first lap I saw Coach W who appeared to be bowing to me!
The second lap was almost as eventful. Someone came past me - unusual for the second lap, shouting "Don't worry I'm a lap behind you!". The lady with the hopping dog's other dog managed to stand right in front of me so I had to do some quick weaving! But finally I was on the home run, Coach W telling me to push it all the way to get a good time and it was all over. Last triathlon of the season done and it wasn't even 11 in the morning!

Finished!

It wasn't fast and I'm sure it wasn't pretty, but I was fourth out of the female Tritons (one pulled out but hey). I have realized that I do this purely because I enjoy it and I really love my triathlon club.

Anything is possible, right?

Midnightman - a bit of a surprise

noreply@blogger.com (Hilary) — Sun, 14 Aug 2016 16:23:00 +0000

This year's Tritons club champs for the standard distance were Bewl and for the middle distance Midnightman. I had a bit of dilemma, because I managed to get a place in Ride London, so could I do Ride London, Bewl and Midnightman on consecutive weekends? After a bit of humming and harring and remembering how much hard work Bewl was the weekend after Ride London and how much I dislike Bewl (a lot!) I decided not to enter Bewl, but put myself into Midnightman.

In the two weeks running up to the event, I realised I really hadn't been doing much running and definitely nothing of distance. I decided to take myself off for a long run on the Sunday before, only to find myself struggling up Shooters Hill, then when I'd finally made it to the top to come crashing down on the way back down the hill. Luckily I wasn't too hurt, mostly bruised both to my skin/muscles and my ego. The week running up to Midnightman I thought, I really need another weekend... but I didn't have one.

The day of the race was very odd. I'm now so used to having to get up at the crack of dawn to get to a race that sleeping in (or attempting to) and having a relatively relaxed morning was very different. We got there relatively early, around 3:30 and I racked up. There were a couple of ladies who had done this race before and were chatting and being very friendly. I discovered this is a very friendly race - everyone is happy to talk to you and later on cheering you through the later stages was just lovely! I had a bit of time before the start of the race, so we sat down. We rapidly discovered there were some particularly vicious mozzies/gnats that particularly love biting - I think I ended up with several bites in minutes!

It was nice to see the other Tritons - AJ, Sophie and Claire were joining me in the middle distance, and I had much joy telling Francois that he was the only Triton man in the middle distance champs, so all he had to do was finish to win! Eventually we had our race briefing and finally we got into the water, by which stage the cool water was a nice refreshing temperature after overheating slightly in the sunshine!
The swim was a bit of a disaster for me - my goggles kept ever so slightly leaking and I started to panic that I would lose my contact lenses. I had to stop to let the water out, which delayed me. I started to leave it until I got to a buoy but I think I ended up having to stop three or four times, delaying my swim quite badly! The water was nice and the buoys easy to spot so the swim went OK apart from that. Trying to get back in was interesting - I wasn't entirely sure I was going the right way but finally I got in and I could take my blasted goggles off and run into transition. My wetsuit (which due to my nails is starting to look like I've been attacked by a wild animal) was really resisting being taken off but finally I got myself ready and out onto the bike course.

Oh, that bike course. It was essentially an H shape with some really nasty dead turns at the end of each one. As you span down Bob Dunn Way the wind just blew against you making me feel like I was cycling through custard. On the way back it was much better as you had the wind behind. The dead turns were a real trial. I managed to mess several up by not getting round them properly and having to clip out to get round! The sun started to go down and I realised I was going to have to turn my lights on soon - I could reach my light on the front but not on the back. The sun sank deeper and deeper giving us a beautiful sunset and I got to lap five out of ten just as it set - so I decided to stop at the aid station, grab some food and fill up my bottle, and switch on my light at the back. By lap six Thea and Lizzie turned up and were a much needed boost - so much energy and enthusiasm! There was also a lady with pink LED lights and the two ladies that I'd spoken to earlier in the transition that kept me going. The last three laps I also went past a little boy that kept holding his hand out for a high five, which I was actually able to give him - my balance on the bike is a lot better than it used to be! I found out from my Strava that I'd beaten my 90 k time by round about half an hour, mostly because it was so flat a course (which of course meant you ended up pedalling all the time!). I kept checking my watch to see how much further I had left to go, and was so glad when it was my last lap, the last time I had to attempt those dead turns (which I managed!), and I could come into transition.

And out onto the run. Running will never be my best discipline, or my easiest. But there is always a small satisfaction of knowing that you've done two thirds of the race and now all ahead of you is 21 km of (mostly) tarmac. The run course was pretty busy to start with, there were many of the speedier half distancers ahead of me and it was nice that so many of my Triton colleagues took the time to cheer me on as they streaked past. AJ came past me quite soon after I started and asked me how I was feeling. I said, "Ask me again in an hour". People told me I was looking strong but I knew I was really slow. But I kept running. They also kept shouting out my name. I was really confused as to how so many people could know my name until I remembered that it's printed on the back of my trisuit! I hadn't brought my race belt with me that holds two small water bottles, and by the end of my first lap I was really starting to feel the effects of dehydration, as well as a desperate need to find a ladies. By the second lap I was absolutely dry to the bone, but I'd noticed a couple of the other runners running with bottles, so the next time I got to the aid station I asked for a bottle of energy drink. That energy drink saved my run, absolutely no question. I finished the whole bottle going round the next 5 k. There were many things that I went past on my way around, including a Beefeater (at the start of the run I was desperate for a steak), a taxi cab advertising a bingo club all the way the other side of town in Cricklewood (!), a big party with a BBQ and chalk on the pavement cheering random people on (including one that said "Good job random stranger". On my final lap it got a lot quieter and started to feel a lot more like the other half ironmen that I have been to - apart from instead of some quiet country lane, I was running round a housing estate in the middle of the night in Dartford! I can't tell you how much of relief it was to come round the final corner, after the BBQ party had started to break up, and see the red lights of the bikes winking at me from transition. I speeded up for the last few yards and finally I was finished! I'd completely smashed my previous time and finished in 7 hours and 18 minutes, completely exhausted, worn out and a little spaced out too! I really felt for the full distance entrants who were still cycling around when I had finished and could go home.