Anglesey Sandman Triathlon 2015

Yep, we were the geeky ones who racked
first. Far too excited.

Sandman, the only slate coaster missing from my coffee table. There was a reason it was the last one of the Welsh Always Aim High triathlon series I'd signed up for, two in fact, it was a sea swim and a flat bike course. Those two reasons however, were the magic words needed to get Lizzie to come with me. It wasn't until she was all paid up and entered that I had to confess there would also be a 10km trail run on mostly sand (her fault really, she hadn't even questioned the name).

Canterbury Sprint Triathlon 2015

Having attended a wedding yesterday of friends who have just completed Ironman Austria, it seemed fitting to blast out the post-wedding fuzz with a very conveniently located local triathlon, the Velocity Events Canterbury Sprint Tri.

We sat smugly drinking coffee with plenty of time to spare even with the horrendous unisex toilet queue of doom. The race had changed venues at fairly shirt notice  and it looked like access to loos might have been overlooked. However, what the event lacked in facilities it made up for in organisation; registration was super swift and simple, there was a well-stocked kit stand which is always a bonus at a small event and a good but not overwhelming selection of cakes (very rarely am I overwhelmed by cake but we were a little more fragile than usual).

New Forest Drivers

Having regained my cycling confidence on gloriously quiet Dorset roads, a ride in the New Forest brought back the inner panic. What is it that makes drivers in the New Forest so much more angry and rubbish at driving than anywhere else?! The New Forest is such a beautiful place to cycle and it is a terrible shame that motor vehicles and man-powered ones can't live in harmony.

If it wasn’t a coach ploughing down the Forest’s “main roads” with no idea of their own size, it was aggressive, impatient drivers who refuse to wait until it is actually safe to overtake, or who wait for the right moment but then choose to squeeze past you anyway.

Three New Forest Rangers passed by throughout the ride in their big off-roaders; they all managed to overtake like normal, safe drivers – excellent. Perhaps they could start delivering a course, a quick driving course for anyone entering the New Forest?.. They could get drivers to demonstrate a safe overtake of a cyclist and a horse, then they could get a little flag to display on their left wing mirror that allows them to drive around. If at any point a pedestrian, cyclist or rider can remove the flag whilst the car is in motion then that driver is banned. Simple?

Egg's Guide to the Challenge Weymouth Bike Course

I headed off to deepest Dorset with cycling buddy Sarah at the weekend for a first recce of the Challenge Weymouth bike course. I have written a basic guide to the main parts of the course below, but before you embark on a recce of your own, please note these important points:

There is only ONE proper tea shop en route as far as we could see (Pine Lodge Team Rooms, number 5) and the first time we passed it, it was closed. It's a mysterious place without a website or a Facebook page so the opening hours remain unknown. Sarah has been once before though and can vouch for their cream teas. 

Part of the route appears to require a mountain bike. A very hardy road cyclist may risk their rubber across the one hundred or so metres of gravel (3) but we picked up our steeds and shouldered them over. This was after several navigational misadventures as we couldn't believe the route actually went that way despite the GPS telling us it did. Challenge Tri have assured me it is being resurfaced though, phew!

Slateman Tri 2014

After my adventure with Ruth to the Snowman Tri last year, the Slateman was immediately added to our hit list as another brilliant event on the Always Aim High calendar. We made the obligatory overnight stop at Telford and smashed up the parkrun on the Saturday morning before ambling over to Snowdonia. The drive in to Llanberis doubled up as a recce of the end of the bike course and it looked just fine to us: easy!

At registration we realised we were in different swim starts, and couldn't figure out why or how they had organised the waves. Ruth was in the final wave which started 20 minutes after mine. This meant my whole race strategy had to change from "just enjoy the race, take it easy, you're here to have fun" to "you must absolutely rag the bike as hard as you can and pray you don't get caught on the run". We also spotted Jane Hansom at registration who is one of our favourite triathlete ladies but we were too rushed (and scared) to go and talk to her because we were keen to find the hog roast which had been promised in the race information. Sadly, it was all closed up by the time we got there but we promised ourselves a post-race hog roast instead.

Exmoor Training Camp Part 2 - To Porlock, or not to Porlock

Ruth should know better than to let me plan a long bike route without supervision. I tapped away excitedly on a route mapper and declared that we would be riding about 70 miles around Exmoor, and that it would be "really mostly flattish but with a couple of big hills", which she already knew was a bit of a porky.

I very swiftly mentioned that one of those big hills was Porlock, then kept talking really quickly and hoped it had gone unnoticed, but she busted me. Porlock Hill is an absolute beast of a climb that features as one of the UK's toughest in the book "100 Greatest Cycle Climbs", a book Ruth foolishly bought me for my birthday last year. I suggested that we at least get there and see how we feel, as there are a couple of escape routes and she reluctantly agreed, muttering something disturbing but completely hilarious about "grinding the granny hard".

Exmoor Training Camp 2014 - Part 1 "Hills and Hot Tubs"

For the first time since the spring training camp tradition began in 2012, we were finally in Exmoor, in March, without ice, flooding, torrential rain or gales. This year there would be no excuses, and with six months to go until I attempt my first iron distance triathlon, I was itching to get some quality training in.

I was keen to ride the Wimbleball course backwards, just for a change. Emma and Susan decided to join in the adventure and as the bikes were being set up, I couldn't help being surprised by the topic of conversation. It wasn't the usual "Ooh, LOVE your new helmet, totally matches your bike!", but an insightful discussion about mechanical components. It turned out everyone else was riding a triple, the smallest ring on the front being known as "the granny ring"; a get-out clause that wussy cyclists have for when they get all scared on a tough climb. I smugly declared that I was riding a double to which Susan replied, deadpan, "Life's too short for a double". Life is too short for this discussion to go on any longer, so we set off.

Muv's Week of Health

Now that I have a sister who is well and truly on the health train, it was time to get mum aboard. I decided to take myself up to Derbyshire for a mini training week/healthy eating week/boot camp for mum week. I broke the journey up with a cheeky visit to the brilliant Braunstone parkrun, before arriving at mum's and unpacking about two sets of regular clothes and a suitcase full of sports kit. Such a lovely daughter that I am, I shared the veggie stew that I'd made for lunch, and curtailed our catch up as it was sunny outside and I was itching for a cycle.

Snowman Tri 2013

Snowman doesn't look mean there, but he is!

Not that I'm trying to lay blame or anything, but I'm not sure who convinced whom to enter the Snowman Tri. Between Ruth and I, we are probably equally responsible for egging each other on and committing ourselves to a "challenging triathlon" in Snowdonia. In my option, "challenging triathlon" isn't really an adequate description. At the very least they should rename it 'Abominable Snowman Tri', or "Snowman Tri of Doom" or something a bit scarier.

The Fabulous Forestman Middle

I’ve said all year that I wasn’t going to race. Although I’ve been back running and cycling since the end of March, everything has been at a fun, easy and sociable pace and if I’m honest, I didn’t want to disappoint myself by being much slower in a race compared to this time last year.

A bit of triathlon passion was reignited last weekend as I went to support friends at the UK Ironman 70.3. One friend had hardly trained at all due to an injury and made it way beyond her initial goal of "the first buoy" and all the way to the end of the bike. The other, my previous training buddy turned triathlon superhero, Ruth, absolutely stormed it round the course. I was having a marvelous time supporting but I couldn't help feeling a little bit jealous.

Fortunately, due to an evening involving wine a few months ago, I had entered the Forestman Middle distance. This was a new addition to the well-established Forestman family run by the brilliant Race New Forest team and involved one lap of Ellingham Lake (1.2km), a 60 mile loop in the New Forest and a hilly, off-road half marathon. For the vast majority of those few months, I was pretty certain that I wouldn't actually do the race but seeing a whole host of people running ecstatically through the finish line at Wimbleball gave me the boost I needed. I was rather looking forward to getting my teeth into a triathlon.

Having not been swimming since December 8th (I don't know why I remember the date, but I do), the plan was merely to finish the swim gently, push hard on the bike and do my best to enjoy the run. Some doubters - who will not be named - said I wouldn't be able to stick to this plan and that I would see red and get carried away. I'm glad to say, they were wrong.

As it turns out, when you don't have high expectations of yourself or put a lot of pressure on yourself, these triathlon thingies can be thoroughly enjoyable and dare I say, fun, experiences. The water at Ellingham was perfect, a little bit of argy bargy at the start (which I mostly created myself) but after five minutes or so I had my own water and settled into a good, steady rhythm. Halfway around the loop I couldn't help wondering why on earth I'd stopped doing this in the first place, it was lovely!

I trotted over to the transition tent and had a fairly leisurely time getting my socks and gloves on, none of this stressful rushing business. Once I was away on the bike though, I found my race face. Despite not doing any even remotely fast cycling in the last few months, I found some pace and started chasing down anybody I could see ahead of me. I savagely attacked my banana, tearing it from the side with my teeth to avoid having to slow down. I was actually a little too out of breath to eat properly; wild open-mouthed chewing ensued as I focused carefully on not inhaling it. Luckily nobody witnessed this fairly disgusting display.

The tailwind at the back end of the loop was a joy, everybody was flying along having a jolly marvelous time. I battered myself up Ornamental Drive, especially as I saw my main rival my lovely fellow clubmate, Nicky Yevko up ahead. I failed to look casual as I breathlessly passed her.

Loving the support and picture taking
from Davie! 

I had gone out quite hard on the bike but I managed to keep the pace going through the undulating route. Various friends and clubmates were out on the course shouting support generally being brilliant. Hearing someone go a little bit mad and screaming your name does wonders on a long race! Every time I saw a girl on a bike ahead of me I just couldn't help myself, I didn't care if they were in my race or not, I was going to catch them. I had some good banter with a few blokes as well, as we played cat and mouse up and down the hills.

The final stretch, right into a strong headwind, was a killer on the legs. I could have been sensible and cranked down the power a little bit, but I was having far too much fun having some back and forth with a chap from Andover Triathlon Club called Nick. In fact, if it wasn't for Nick, I think I wouldn't have enjoyed that last little bit at all.

Looking like I'm having a much better
time than Ruth!!

T2 was quick and running actually felt quite nice and easy compared to pushing so hard on the bike. That's not to say I was running fast, but it felt light. A mile up the road and I hit the Salisbury Tri Club aid station, where I stopped briefly for a little chat with the crew. The little chats were plentiful on the run, I was taking it really rather easily and as a result, I was having a great time. I stopped to assess the snacks at all the aid stations (Southampton Tri Club were the clear winners with a choice of biscuits and the biggest sack of jelly babies I have ever witnessed) and got to know a couple of other triathletes on the course. The whole atmosphere was so friendly, everybody was cheering on everybody else and it was all very sporting.

I was soon caught by the Yevko, the running machine that she is. She actually lost herself a good half a minute or so by slowing down and having a quick chat before shooting off into the distance. I managed to keep jogging up the last big hill before getting back to the STC stand, with only one mile to go I picked up the pace and gleefully made my way back to Sandy Balls and a big welcome at the finish line.

I felt totally elated. I'd pulled a triathlon out of the bag and I'd really, truly enjoyed the whole experience.

Bodyboarding and Big Hills

The last time we went to Devon for a little holiday, it was absolutely freezing cold and we sat in a still sea getting hypothermic praying for some waves to arrive. They didn't. We ditched the sea and found a carvery instead with a very generous chef who succumbed to our wily, female ways as we flirted outrageously in return for seconds.

This time around though, my luck has changed. Not only has my week in Devon coincided with the actual start of what appears to be summer, but the waves have been decent too. I decided to give bodyboarding a go, it's not something I'd ever done before and seemed to require far less in the way of skill than surfing. Not only that but the board is easier to carry to the beach. I was sold.

1000 Miles in May

I've missed big cycling epics. Winter was especially unkind to the cyclists of Britain and only the truly hardy and dedicated (of which, this year, I was not) have reached spring in good fitness. Whilst I've dabbled a bit on the bike in March and April I am a long way away from the pedal power I had at this time last year.

A Very Wintry Exmoor

Before deciding to take a bit of a training break and before getting all unfit and not riding my bike for months, I had booked a cottage in Exmoor for a training weekend. It was a chance for Wimbleballers to scout out the course and for anyone else to come and play in the hills. I had imagined a long weekend of spring sunshine, hours in the saddle and the great company of friends. One out of three ain't bad!

Heart Rates and Headwinds

The broken Suunto

I haven't trained to heart rate for ages, for the sole reason that the rubber strap on my Suunto T3d snapped and I couldn't wear it. I scoured the internet for a replacement and after no success, rang Suunto who told me that my watch colour was apparently the only single one that was discontinued and no longer available anywhere. I had chosen awesome green specifically, I didn't want berry red or boring black or the silly "women's" version that's exactly the same but in light grey with a baby pink stripe. After considering my options, I decided I couldn't cope with putting a different strap on my watch and being uncoordinated. The only option was to buy a new watch. The new watch was a Garmin 405cx and the HR strap that's supplied is definitely not designed for anyone who a) has a small frame, b) has to wear a sports bra and c) cares about any sort of comfort. So there is a slightly longer than intended story for you about why I gave up on heart rate. Now, back to the matter in hand...

Icy Isle of Wight

A cool, fresh, clear blue sky awaited us as we headed towards the Isle of Wight on the early morning ferry for a 60 mile sportive. Ruth and I had found somebody else we knew who had done it before and she had freaked us out a bit by telling us how big and steep the hills were. I was riding the cyclocross as the roadie is out of action at the moment, and as the gears on the CX are much less forgiving, I had visions of humiliating walks up hills whilst Ruth pootled away in front on her triple. Nonetheless, we started out comfortably and had no intention of riding the 60 miles very hard, so if walking was necessary, so be it.

The Inaugral Exmoor Beauty

Whilst 38,000 runners headed into the Big Smoke and readied themselves for a very long, crowded marathon around London, about 800 cyclists headed to deepest Exmoor for a new event on the cyclosportive calendar. In fact, possibly the most poorly named sportive ever: The Exmoor Beauty. Deep down I knew it would be hilly; there isn't a flat way through any part of Exmoor, but I thought, and hoped that this contrasting event to the very aptly named Exmoor Beast might just be a little easier. How wrong I was.

Wimbleball on a 12/25

Firstly, I would like to apologise to all of my non-cycling friends and colleagues who I have bored to death of recent weeks with endless chat regarding bike gearing. In fact I apologise to everybody – cyclist or not – because I’ve been a woman obsessed.

A Foggy March Commute

I peeked out of the kitchen window tentatively this morning as another thick morning fog had settled, forcing my “look at how light it is in the mornings, yay!” feeling of late to turn into a second round of coffee and a slightly more sedate mood.

Bicycle Bliss

I have been noticeably grumpy for the last few months. On many an eve I have gazed mournfully at the bent-out-of-shape Bianca, remembering the adventures we had, personal bests we trashed together and all the good times we shared. I despaired as I thought life without her and her garish orange handlebars would  never be the same again.

A Lil Ride

I am currently undergoing the biggest bike-buying drama that I think the world has ever seen. I decided I would hold off buying a new road bike until after the winter and all I want is a pretty (and by pretty I mean not red or black), small-framed cyclocross with decent components to double as my commuting bike, winter trainer, general packhorse and possibly even an actual cyclocross bike if I ever decide to sign up for a race.