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Merry Men's Muddy Monkish Mission.

Mr Wait started hatching the plan to run some of The St. Cuthbert's Way quite a while ago if I remember rightly, and I'd expressed an interest when the idea first sprang up but then the trail went cold, as it were, and nothing more was said until a couple of weeks ago. Both Karl and Bruce were in touch a few days before the planned date and eventually I declared myself 'in'.

A quick virtual recce via goodrunguide and its excellent route-planner facility showed a distance of about 17miles and modest climbs amounting to about 850ft. I knew we were in for some pleasant territory in the latter half as we would approximately bisect one of my favourite training loops out of Belford, but the first few miles were much less familiar to me. And even the best route-planners, sat-navs and whatever can't tell you what the going is like underfoot, so a bit of local knowledge came as a good fore-warning when my dear old Mum told of one section through Kyloe Woods: "A bloody quagmire!"

8am rendezvous at The Riverside in Wooler and we were underway. I was re- introduced to Dave Egan, experienced ultra-runner, who I'd met fleetingly at Borders Search & Rescue Run before I charged off to get myself lost. Dave had put in a few miles already having run down from home at Branxton as a warm up! Messers Crombie, Wait and Pringle, in addition to myself, made up the rest of the party. Mr. Crombie can also claim some ultra-running experience. He modestly mentioned that he'd met Mr. Egan whilst participating in The Lakeland 50 earlier this year. Bravo! Mr Wait, not to be outdone by Mr. Crombie, soon declared that he too was to join the ranks of The Ultras having entered the Highland Fling (53miles?) next April. It dawned on me that between them, over the course of 2 races, these mega-mileage headcases would probably clock up more miles than I had so far this year. Mr. Pringle, a man of fewer words than the others, declined to 'big-up' any of his past achievements/future plans and focused on the route ahead.

Away we went over Weetwood Moor taking in the steepest climb of the day within the first half mile! Weather was overcast with sporadic rays of sunshine and more sporadic showers. Nice views over Wooler to Cheviot as we dropped down to Weetwood Bridge but barely time to take them in before Mr.Wait took centre stage by 'slowing himself down grabbing some bracken fronds' and lacerated his finger in the process. An amplified heart rate and (so it seemed) haemophilia gave rise to quite an impressive amount of gore which he only partly staunched with some bog roll. Between us, first rate boy-scouts that we were, we had zero first-aid provision! Well- Dave had some ibuprofen and a plaster he'd used before on a blister...or something. We pressed on up the undulating road to the Hortons, Mr. Wait growing paler with every step, our sympathies flagging likewise. Over Wait's relentless demands for attention Mr. Crombie outlined a rather energetic pyramid session he'd run on the very same road just the other day... I was finding out just how Merry these Merry Men could be! At Hazelrigg Schoolhouse Wait, now paler than death itself and weaving about the road unsteadily due to lack of blood, took practical action and accosted the occupant with a request for a plaster for his poorly finger. And was met with a similar measure of sympathy there as from his fellow runners. The mangled stump was starting to scab over though and before long we had the distraction of Cuddy's Cove to marvel at. Had dutiful monks really traversed this path on their own ultra trek, loyally carrying the corpse of their mate? If Wait started bleeding again would we have to loyally carry the corpse of our mate the rest of the way to Holy Island? Doubtful. On both counts.

 

Above Cuddy's Cove the vistas of the coast and almost all of the remainder of the route were spread out before us. Apart from the near loss of Wait's arm, and some soreness which was troubling Mr.Pringle, we were all intact and ready to set about the slime which we soon encountered as we descended and got amidst Kyloe Woods and Dolly Parton's Lonnen. (Well- 'Dolly Somebody-or-Other's Lonnen' but, for some reason, Dolly Parton was the name that stuck.) Mr. Crombie pointed out an interesting feature of the landscape alongside the track, a higgledy-piggledy collapsed fence-line which he remembered erecting a few weeks before... The mud was good pre cross-country season experience and surprisingly little of it stuck. After the wooded section another brief stint on the road took us through Fenwick and across the A1 then our next little obstacle was the railway line. Messers Egan and Wait flagrantly disobeyed all safety warnings and sprinted across, probably without even looking! The much more safety conscious Mr. Crombie followed the correct procedure and phoned the signalman from a little telephone kiosk provided.... Three phone calls later we were eventually on our way again! (1st call: "No. Don't cross. A train is coming. Tell your mates who did cross that they're lucky to be alive. Especially the one who is bleeding. Phone again when train has passed!"/ 2nd call: "Ok. Cross now. Phone again from other side."/ 3rd call: "Right, if you're all safely across the Transport Police won't need to be informed.")

Onto the foreshore and the last lap was following the line of marker poles that show the most direct route across to Holy Island itself; The Pilgrim's Way. Since this is a pathway I've always wanted to walk or run, but never actually got around to doing,  it was the part of the route that I enjoyed most. (It being totally flat and the finish and pub within sniffing distance had nowt to do with it!) Feeling pretty lively I struck out a bit faster for this last couple of miles along with Mr.Crombie and we did our best to keep the quicker pace even where it got muddiest and slippiest, just before we were back to road again. Our arrival at the Chare Ends coincided almost perfectly with that of Mr. Murray-John who had very sportingly agreed to come and collect us all in Crombie's pick-up even though a knee injury had put him out of the day's running. Before leaving for home we enjoyed beers on the island in The Ship where the barman did look somewhat dubious at Mr.Egan's claim of having run all the St. Cuthbert's way from Melrose in his bid for a free pint. Despite my prior concern we weren't turned away at the door even though covered in mud and blood and sweat, and the crowds strangely dispersed to leave us the best seats by the fire! Jolly hospitable. And a great finish to the morning out.
 

Thropton/Eyemouth/Hownam

Three weekends on the trot with events.

Beautiful sunny day for Thropton Show and Simonside Fell Race Sept. 18th, most capably organised by  Phil Green of NFR. How considerate, it being a hot day, for him to send us through the River Coquet a couple of times! This race covered 6 and a half rather tough miles, in my opinion, with a testing climb rate and all manner of other terrain as well as river-bed. Tarmac, grass track, stony forest trail, open heath. I wouldn't have been surprised if a large sand-dune had emerged to ascend, or if the top of Simonside had been bedecked with cobblestones. I got into my stride amongst the bevy of NFR chaps up front early on but made a brief wrong turn which cost me a couple of places that I never recovered. Another error was not realising there were optional approaches to the top of Simonside. I took the shorter 'scramble' option which didn't lose me any more places but certainly wasn't the quicker way up. Descent through the forest on a winding trail was very enjoyable and I was in fairly clear space- not able to reel any of the front runners in, but not getting chased down either- so could relax a little over the last couple of miles. Phil Sanderson was eventual winner although it might've gone to James Buis were it not for navigational difficulties he encountered. (A recurring theme in this blog entry!) Beth Gregory-Smith led home the ladies. A small contigent was out from Wooler: Claire, Kenny, Bruce and Jack. Let me just say that you haven't seen yellow until you see the top that Jack ran in! I was particularly keen to get this race in to count toward four needed in the NECAA champs series. Three down but only Clay Bank left to race. I had to tear myself away from the coast though because the surf over the whole weekend was CRANKING!! Apologies Phil for not awaiting presentations but I was hotfoot to Embleton to meet others and get amongst the aqueous action again....Spent a total of 9 hours in the sea between the friday and sunday pm. Some outrageous waves for this neck-o-the woods.

Last of the Borders Tri series on the following weekend at Eyemouth. A coolish and overcast start to the day gave way to sunshine yet again, although it stayed breezy. Mr.S. shuttled us back and forth in his Tri-taxi, and we collected recent recruit Mr.B. en-route- proudly sporting his brand-new bike and eager to give the twelve miles of tarmac in the race a speedy steamrollering on it. Big N. was on the sidelines again for this one, unfortuately,due to other obligations and a dodgy knee. Nothing out of the ordinary for me during the proceedings. Swim felt a bit more relaxed than usual, especially in the early lengths and I had a lead out of the pool in my heat. That's happened before but, more often than not, strong cyclists start to hunt me down on the bike leg. Best surprise in this race therefore, and a little highlight of the whole series for me, was getting to the turn point of the bike route after a (mostly) climbing first half that I'd found tough and seeing nobody behind me! I'd extended my heat lead and enjoyed the wind-assisted pelt back to Eyemouth. Thought I'd blown it going into the run though because I felt a little shaky after ploughing up the first hill and onto the nice out-and-back clifftop path that's the backbone of the run route. The wheels didn't fall off for me though and it turned out to be one of my better runs in the series  (3rd fastest of the day). In the end I placed 8th, 3rd Vet40 which was also my position in the series overall- best 4 races counting for points. Misters S.and B. seemed pleased with their performances and, once again,Mr.S. pulled out a cracking run turning in the 4th quickest split of the day in that department. I look forward to their company next season and hope Borders Sport & Leisure Trust can keep this fantastic race series going. Recommended for Tri-ers of all capabilities.

Last weekend was the Borders Search & Rescue Unit sponsored event heading out from Hownam near Morebattle and up onto the Pennine Way/Border Ridge on either a 16 or 23km route. Your choice-as was the option to walk or run. I found myself in the company of the majority of the Merry Men (minus Kenny- snuffled out with a cold) for the start of this one but it was a damp and cool start and I'd forgotten my more sensible wet weather attire so I had to desist from the crack and crack on to keep the circulation going.(Besides, I didn't want to get lumbered with helping to haul Karl's sedan chair for the first couple of miles or whatever it was before he started working properly ;) This initial gale-in-the tail that I had somehow continued. The course was partially marked and marshalled at various points and, now and again,I was catching up with earlier starters both running and walking. Climbing steadily after Bughtrig brought the participants into increasingly mistier and damper conditions though and by the time I was onto the ridge and Lamb/Beefstand Hills it had turned into a traditional Cheviots plodge-fest, shoe-sucking peaty puddles a-plenty and folk transformed into eerie shuffling spectres dissolving in the fog as I passed. Despite the gloom route-finding was still straightforward and I was soon descending again, onto 'The Street' and starting the return leg of the route. The mist was left behind and the day brightened with vistas starting to open up and some warmth getting into the air. Fabulous! Of course, once the likelihood of taking a wrong turn started to lessen was exactly when I did just that! I strayed off The Street a little and before I realised I was off-course found myself at that pulse quickening place where nothing on the ground looks like anything on the map! Lost...!As it happened I had to take a little excursion into Belford-On-Bowmont before I got re-oriented. (Had Belford not just been off the edge of the map it could all have been so different!) "Ah well," I thought to myself as I harumphed back up to The Street again, "At least it's not a race..." About a mile from the finish was where I rejoined the official route again and,coincidentally, several of the Merry Men too who were all jolly sporting and far too polite to make any mention of my navigational ineptitude as I accompanied them in and discussed the course afterwards. Oh no, not a word of it! Thanks to the Borders Search & Rescue for organising this challenge.

 

 

Helvellyn. Up to and including...

Signing up for Facebook seems to have gone hand-in-hand with an inability to string more than 2 sentences together. Not a great deal has been happening on the race front since Chevy Chase but there was Coastal Run and Kelso Sprint Tri in the run-up to my 'big event' of this year.

Coastal passed off uneventfully. Bit breezy, bit warm. Usual big turn out and good WRC contigent. I adopted my usual strategy of keeping a close eye on well remembered mile landmarks and trying to keep an even pace for a 1hr 30 finish. It worked again! The only real racy bit for me was right toward the end. I'd got onto the beach stretch after the Boulmer road in a comfortable 10th position and a couple of looks back after 150m or so revealed no-one within striking distance behind. Or so I thought. Over the rocks and onto the last beach stretch (The never-ending bit!) there were suddenly 2 guys right on the shoulder and I had to dig in to keep with their pace. A tussle in the last 250m sorted us out but I dropped out of the top 10 into 11th in about 1:28 or so. Can't recall my vet40 placing but Claire kindly picked up the prize that came my way. Sarah kindly transported Mr.S (who took a veritable cleaver to his PB) Big N (mixed fortunes!) and I and also took some photos which can be seen on: http://www.flickr.com/photos/16784317@N06/

Kelso Tri was also familiar territory. Mr.S had given it a miss as he'd just returned from an epic cycling holiday with his family in the NE, Holland, and then the Borders- whereby they also raised money for charity. Another pal, relatively new to Tri, Mr.B, was along with me though, and Big N was in the line-up too. The blessing of good weather was upon us again (Only raced once in tough conditions this year- let the cosseting continue!) and made for some swift racing. I had a marginally faster race than the same course last year and posted my highest placing for one of the sprint Tris yet. So A Great Big Pat On The Back was duly awarded. The last in this series for this year is at Eyemouth toward the end of Sept. My daughter seems to have been a bit inspired by watching finishers at Helvellyn and has declared she wants to give Tri a go. Bravo Becky. Perhaps Come & Tri at Eyemouth will be her introduction.

Apart from quite a few strenuous brick sessions, and some more open water swim training in the sea at Bamburgh on calm evenings, perhaps the major bit of prep for the Helvellyn race was a swift hop over to The Lakes one saturday with Mr.S to recce the bike route. Something of an event for me though since I hadn't visited the area for about 20 years. The recce was a great ride and the right thing to do. A very nice day out. And, one of the major 'bogeys' of the race, the ascent of Kirkstone Pass from Ambleside (1-in-5 in places) turned out to be not so daunting after all. Hurrah!

To race weekend itself then. Mr.S and I were accompanied by our families and were very generously  accommodated by friends Ali & Lynne at their cottage in Ambleside. Super. Mr.S's good lady, Mrs E. suffered some disappointment over the weekend though, along with about 9000 other people, because her eagerly awaited event, Great North Swim, had to be cancelled/postponed due to an algae bloom in Lake Windemere. She put the upset aside though and set away with Sarah and the two eldest to climb Helvellyn instead on the saturday. Mr.S and I recced some of the run route whilst accompanying them for a while with the rest of the children and then went to register for the race. In the evening we all dined out in Ambleside then the boys went through the rigmarole of checking all their race kit was together for the next day. All Mr.S had to do was a last minute sewing back together of his somewhat tattered run shoes! "Err. Does anyone have a needle and thread?" In sharp contrast I was to be freshly shod in almost brand new trail shoes and, although barely broken in, confident that these were the ones to end a run of poor off-road shoe purchases! "Let the day dawn," we declared and set ourselves for an early start on the sunday. 

Race briefing was 8am. Mrs E kindly chauffeured us and gear to the arena of Jenkins Field, Glenridding, next to Ullswater and we got set up ready to roll. Weather wasn't to provide any undue excitement for us throughout the race, although what might be regarded as a beautiful day by most was a little warm for the run and a bit breezy for the bike. Nitpicking really. We had it easy, but I've still got a sunburned neck. (Does Baby Oil help you cook as well as lubricating against wetsuit chafing?) The swim was split into 3 groups to spread the field and avoid congestion in the early stages. Mr S. and I were in the 2nd group of swimmers and by about 08:40 we were feeling the cool of the lake amidst the churn of thrashing limbs and making our way in the melee towards the first marker buoy in the distance. I took a while to settle into it, this being the most crowded swim I'd encountered yet, but eventually calmed down and steadied my stroke. There didn't seem to be many other red swim caps from our group up ahead of me and before long the group I was with started cutting a wake through some of the back-markers from the white-hats who'd been first away. There wasn't much more time after that to enjoy watching the wafting underwater plant fronds streaming beneath before we were back ashore and racing for the transition zone and bikes.

In retrospect I made a classic mistake of going away too quickly early on the bike leg. The route took us east alonside Ullswater for a while before turning north and climbing for a few miles. I was full of beans and set about this first steady climb with gusto, passing people all the way. Probably people who had the good sense to go easy at that stage! We got to the A66 then headed west toward Keswick. Some fast stretches saw those on super-slick machines start to make ground. I was at 40mph plus on a couple of occasions but made to look pedestrian at that by the high speed merchants. The longest stretch of the route took us south after leaving the A66 before Keswick and heading towards Thirlmere, Grasmere and Ambleside. This was where what wind there was made it's presence felt and slowed the pace a little, along with some traffic which was accumulating at points where cyclists were hard to pass. Deft weaving skills came into play once or twice! Eventually I was at Ambleside and digging in for the epic haul up 'The Struggle' to the top of Kirkstone Pass. Must say- I was in awe of several riders that I witnessed tackling this hill. One chap who I'd played cat-&-mouse with for about 10 miles came into his own and went smoothly away upward, likewise one of the leading ladies who showed me a clean pair of heels. I'd hoped this would be another phase of the race where I could make places but my early bike pace was taking it's toll a little and I probably only broke even in terms of gained and lost places on the big ascent. Two or three came past me who never got out of the saddle! Fair enough, that's supposed to be the most efficient way to pedal on the hills but, at a 20% gradient, it takes some bloody doing! The Kirkstone Inn sits at the crest of the climb and a viewpoint there was a natural grandstand for the crowd watching the titanic efforts and cheering us on. Much appreciated! Churning, gurning, wheezing, weaving and wobbling. It was all happening on the last push to the top but surely well worth it for the spectacular descent on the other side on a twisting road, bounded both sides by drystone walls, wending its way toward Patterdale and then Glenridding again. A nice easy final stretch to get the legs ready for the run...

I felt OK out of transition and ready to run. Quickly reeled in a few who were struggling to find their run legs but it was only a mile into the route that the first hard climb began. A sheltered spot too where the sun was making for even tougher going. I was soon down to a steady walk where I'd hoped to maintain the semblance of a jog, but consoled myself with the fact that no-one else was attempting to run the same bit and that we'd get some cooling breeze at the crest. Another mile on and this first crest was reached before the route levelled then descended a bit toward Red Tarn, nestled between the twin ridges of Striding and Swirral Edge which form a spectacular crescent with Helvellyn summit where they meet. I'd been passed by a couple of runners who got going again quicker than I toward the top of the first ridge but, although feeling pretty whacked by now, I got my pace back too and passed some others by Red Tarn and on the first part of Swirral Edge- our way up. It was the final scramble toward the top that had me on my last legs and having to really will myself onward. A posse of folk at the summit helped with their cheering on of the runners, but I was still struggling with fatigue and sore feet- from the constant stony surfaces- (uncommon to Cheviots runners, blessed with nice springy peat!) for the next mile or so along the ridge after the summit. Thankfully though, by the time we were descending a steep series of zig-zags into another valley and heading back toward Glenridding, I'd found some hidden reserves and started to put the hammer down a bit despite sore feet. I caught quite a few over the last 3 miles but couldn't quite pull back some of those who'd passed me on the ascent. It was good to have a strong finish and at the line the print out (Hurrah for chip timing!) clocked me at 4hrs 18min and 6sec. With the race having a staggered start finishing places weren't sorted until a day or so later. I turned in 49th overall, 12th in my vet. age group.

Mr.S's race was marred by a puncture on the A66 which he spent 17mins repairing, according to his report. Were it not for that he would've been hot on my heels, especially since he had a cracking run and covered those 9 miles 2-and-a-half mins quicker than I did. I have the feeling he's out to get me now and I've explained that catching me is simply bad form. In fact, there's probably something in the rules  
about it..

.

 

  

 

Chevy Chase 2010.

Been trying to put my finger on what makes the Chevy such a popular event hereabouts. Is it because the course showcases the Cheviots so well? The super-slick organisation? The unpredictable nature of the terrain- will we be wading or baking, or both!? The sense of history?- Chevy's now in its 53rd year!  Well, all these things go toward making the race what it is but, if I had to use just one word to sum it up I'd opt for 'Camaraderie.'

It's that sense of friendship in particular that makes it a special event for me. There's always lots of familiar faces from the strong local contigent of WRC/NFR club members, other pals I've made through club running in the NE in the past and friends who turn out especially for the Chevy. But, the camaraderie seems to extend between everyone who turns up, new and old participants alike and is born, I think, from a common knowledge that the race will get tough at some point or other for one and all, regardless of their standard.

However, camaraderie can't mask all rivalries and competitive instincts.....! I've found it's not the best approach to treat the Chevy as a race but, this year, I think, a race of sorts is what I had on my hands. One Mr.B.Crombie might deny it, but I had a sense he was gunning for me at this event and, truth be told, I'd thought beforehand that if it came down to a tussle in the later stages of the race he'd have the tenacity to take me out. I've been chasing 3hrs 15 as a personal target time over the 9 attempts I've had too, and had spent ages studying previous splits, wondering if I could combine best times for parts of the course over the years to get this target pb. A recce of some of the course last week (Ran the 'extreme weather' route.) had shown one thing favouring fast times this year- underfoot it was going to be as dry as it had ever been, even if there was to be rain beforehand.

And only some overnight rain fell last week, easily sponged up by the hills. Race time drew on, the walkers were off in sunshine and light headwinds for the way out, and runners kitted up, smeared suncream on and lined up for the hooter. I got my mantra running through the noggin, "Run your own race!" And tried to put aside the urge to go berserk early on.

Initial pace felt reserved compared to some past years. I went through Broadstruther about a minute slower than in 08/09 but the heat seemed to bearing down even by then on some of those amongst the top 10-15. My 'good energy' feeling, which I'd had even before the off- despite the usual apprehensions-  was persisting and I managed to make places going to Cheviot Knee and then Cheviot with the strongest climb I've had yet. Bruce was there all the way though, unshakeable, just a shade behind and going equally well on the climb. Dropping into the valley I found a good line but, as per usual, lost what time and place gains I'd made on the up. I favour a cautious descent and the 2 I'd passed to make 3rd place at Cheviot summit just cut loose and bowled down to the burn. Nevertheless, finding the right line for Hedgehope kept me in good spirits and I still felt not-bad-at-all-thank-you at the summit there. And, it seemed I'd shrugged off some of Bruce's chase as well on the way up there- a few glances back to look for the telltale white bandana revealed he'd slipped a bit further back. Down off Hedgehope and going across to Langlee was where some telltale signs of tiredness started to manifest though and I had a few minutes feeling sketchy until I passed Long Crag. The breeze had been cooling up on the tops but this was the start of the more sheltered part of the course. A waft of heat rose up from the ground, another couple of strong descenders went past, whooping and then chatting between themselves whilst I had to just tell myself to relax, ease up a little and save something if I didn't want to blow it! Time-wise things were going well; once again I just had to resist the urge to chase the places and concentrate on getting through. Brands Corner came up. I was still plodding steady but old friend Keith Mackie came up on me then went past as he often does at this part of the course! We curved round toward the Carey Burn, across the bridge and into the second part of the Carey Burn Valley approaching Hellpath. Keith faded a little and I moved up again but only after we'd both been passed by Noel Craine of Eryri, storming the latter sections. I'd suffered a sprawling fall on the stony track whilst losing focus on swigging from a water bottle but held it together despite a shock. The next shock came right at Hellpath when none other than Mr. Crombie re-appeared in the equation, right at the point when I'd hoped he wouldn't be anywhere in my vicinity! I'd put him out of my mind after Langlee when I'd not been able to see him behind but he'd stormed the Brands Corner-Hellpath leg (2nd fastest split) to get back at my shoulder. We set about the Hellpath climb with grim determination, eventually agreeing to curtail the chit-chat that started about who felt what! My partner Sarah, out on the course taking photos, was (by accident or design!?) at one of the most testing parts of the course for most, halfway up HP. "This is a race!" I gasped as we passed and she clicked the shutter on us, another 2 competitors locked into their struggle. Something happened for me that hasn't happened before though. As we crested the Hellpath I had energy left, just enough to make a few yards burst. I still wanted to will Bruce on too though and shouted encouragement! Weird. Then I found another surge and opened the gap a bit more although still not sure I'd got clear enough, not sure I'd hold out the rest of the way. Last ditch running, dregs of the tank stuff. I went hell for leather down to Wooler Common Farm and then down to the road trying to open more space up. Only allowed myself a look back once I'd got so far along the tarmac but that was a bit of a mistake as even the slight turning motion to see behind induced the feeling of having a golf ball inserted into the back of each calf! Luck was with me to the end though, nothing seized up and I kept going through to the finish where, I'm sorry to say, I wasn't the best recipient of the attentions of the marshals there as I was trashed!

Hurrah for Sportident eh! As Sarah put it, "I do think it's nice that you get a receipt for doing the race!" Results are on their website and, a little scrutiny of the split times can reveal a lot about the race progress. There are numerous noteworthy performances from local runners whose stories I hope to pick up on soon. Trashed soon gave way to elated in my case as I saw I'd beasted my previous best by about 7mins and got well under my target time. Bruce, you lit the touch-paper for that! Sarah's pics are up on my Flickr pages, see link in another blog entry.

Hurrah also for all involved in the organisation, marshalling, catering etc. WRC members and friends certainly play host to one of my highlights of the year. There was talk of 'retirement' from the event amongst some who felt they'd run at their best this year. Had Les T. seen a hint of this idea in my eye even though I'd not said anything? "Ye cannae stop coming along yet Adam, ye've still got my best time tae beat..." Ah well, no resting on any laurels for me yet then! 

 

Done!

Chevy 2010 Photos

Sarah's photographs from today's race are on http://www.flickr.com/photos/bambadam/sets/72157624290375177/

Race report from me later. Well done everyone. Super day.

June Jaunts: Castles Challenge/ Peebles/ Windy Gyle.

Quite a racy month kicked off, on the first Sunday, with one of my 'big three' events for this year, the Castles Challenge Triathlon.

Although just the Olympic or Standard distance, which I'd tackled a couple of times previously, this was to be the first Tri I'd done which involved an open water swim. A swim in the North Sea too- still nowhere near it's warmest in early June!  Worries about being freezing cold abounded but, fortunately, some pretty good weather and calm evening tides during May had put some warmth in the water and given myself and trio of training pals- Mr S/Mrs E and Big N- good opportunity to get sort of acclimatised and into the feel of sea swimming.

The day itself didn't dawn spectacularly, being overcast and indeed worryingly misty early on at the coast. Would we be able to see the marker buoys in the water?! The sea itself, whilst not exactly rough, did have a little more 'movement' about it than during any of my training sessions. A very big plus though was that we were blessed with a slight following wind which made the bike leg way easier than it could otherwise have been. And glorious baking sunshine, which might've made the day for spectators, stayed elsewhere- a good thing, in my opinion, as it would've made for a killer run. Overcast and coolish turned out to be just the thing.

The athletes registered at Bamburgh Cricket Pavilion between 7-8am; numbered and kitted up, racked bikes, donned timing chips, put running gear and post-race stuff into various coloured bags for transport to Alnwick (Point to Point race- what a major organisational feat for the co-ordinators!) and, eventually, after a quick sea dip to avoid initial 'cold shock' were lined up for the hooter.

Away we went. Despite not getting the number of entrants hoped for, the massed start to the swim was still quite a sight according to my fan club (Thanks Mum!) spectating. "Like a school of porpoise going along!" The swim was a 2x750m lap affair, starting with a run from the beach then out between 2 marker buoys, swimming to and around 2 others, exiting the water again between the first buoys and doing a short run up and down the shoreline before the second lap. I didn't have a clue about my race position during the first lap. Trying to keep an eye on where the buoys were was the main concern. And avoiding getting clouted by other folks' limbs! During the brief run between the 2 swim laps though I was feeling OK, not overly disorientated, (dizziness is quite common on being vertical again after swimming) and could see a sizeable following group and plenty still swimming their first lap. Did this mean I was well up the field? I didn't get time to start headcounting those in front before it was back to the briny again to plough away at the second lap as best I could. Out of the water the second time and running up and over the dunes for the transit to bikes I still didn't know where I was although I knew I'd made a bit more ground on those immediately ahead. My fan club's shouts of encouragement and actual position were lost in the excitement of unzipping and wrestling off the upper half of a wetsuit whilst running! (It's a useful time-saver.)

Out onto the bike stretch and I started to realise quite quickly that things were clicking into place nicely. The following breeze kept the pace slick and the leg-burn low, and I was seeing mid to high 20's mph more frequently than usual on the speedo. I'd reeled in a few places by Beadnell and was aware, from the number of bikes still at transistion when I'd gone through, that I was well up the ranks. Head down and batter on! Bore down on another guy up ahead by Longhoughton but got picked up later on after Boulmer and Lesbury by someone else on a speed machine with whom I tussled for a couple of miles until he got away on the last hill. Dropped another place right on the run-in to the second transistion but I felt good, confident about the run, and let a cocky comment go as I passed again whilst running the bikes into the changeover area, "Now for the easy bit!"

Run was a 5-lapper in the pastures by the river below Alnwick Castle, each circuit finishing with a short sharp leg sapping hill of about 50m toward one of the castle gates. Multi lapping was good, kept the run area within sight of anyone spectating and gave competitors a chance to gauge progress against those even quite a way ahead on the course. Within a couple of laps I'd worked out that although there weren't many ahead I wasn't making significant ground on anyone. I set my sights on maintaining pace through to the finish but hadn't really been watching for anyone gaining ground on me so was a little miffed to get passed in the last half mile! Bah, probably a karma payback for my cocky confidence going into the run! 

Afterward our competitive quartet reassembled, all pleased with our performances. I'd managed 5th individual, 3rd Vet, and went away a bit gobsmacked, never having expected to post as high a place. Big N finished in the top 20, Mr S in the top 40, and his good lady Mrs E equalled my position in her category. Some of us finished the course quicker than Pro triathletes did last year.....

 

Peebles Sprint Tri passed off uneventfully. A little bit of pre-race rain made for slightly greasy roads and I approached the cycling with caution. We'd been pre-warned about a car accident on the bike route but the race wasn't stopped even though the vehicles involved were still on the course and being moved away under supervision of the police. Only a minor chicane involved for some of the cyclists. Did I just say uneventful?! This course seems to be the fastest of the Border Tri series and I managed a slightly quicker time than last year and three places higher up the placings. Quite pleased with that, especially the run which I made most of my small time improvement on.

 

A nice day dawned for Windy Gyle Fell Race, overseen by NFR. I haven't been up to Barrowburn for this one since its first year and had the sneaking suspicion I wasn't going to come away with the same placing as then (1st!) this time. A good field turned out and we were soon under way in the sunshine which blessed the duration of the race and prizegiving afterwards. Phil S. set the usual early pace and soon made a breakaway to sit in first for the whole way. Gary Jones, also NFR, kept second place for the duration of the race I believe. Thereafter the third place was eventually taken up by Will Horsely during a solid climb in the first part of the race, moving away from Lee Bennett and I, and passing Lee Grant on the way up. So, with the front three having gone clear, it was two Lees and then me going onto the ridge after Windy Gyle cairn. I'd felt pretty tired on the haul up but Lee Bennett in front hadn't put extra ground between us since making a move and gaining 50+m quite early on. It didn't seem as though Lee Grant was making ground either and I hung on hoping to recover a bit on the level. That little recovery happened and not long after dropping from Windy Gyle I passed Lee B. Up ahead Lee G's pace seemed to have faltered a little and I sensed he'd lost his bearings a little when the front runners went out of view. Starting the first long descent I thought I might make up another place and drew ever closer on the little climb up Swineside Law. That effort must've burned up the last of the porridge though because Lee G held on and had a terrific belt down the last long descent. Lee B hadn't been slouching behind either since I passed him, but I felt I'd put enough ground between us to coast the last downhill and into the home stretch for 5th overall. 

Thanks again to NFR for organisation etc. Full results on their website.

Next stop Chevy Chase, tomorrow- as I write! Good luck to all competitors.

 

 

May Madness.

Quite a lot went down in May. Selkirk Tri pointed out a few kinks in the armour and I felt the need to exploit good weather and lack of surf to focus on training. Longer races like Helvellyn Tri and Chevy Chase starting to prey on the mind a bit....

What better than another race to kick-start things? The Les Allcorn was an opportunity, a couple of days after Selkirk, and I pitched up on the spur of the moment. Quite hard to actually find the start amongst a sea of purple and green vests... Wooler must've been a ghost town that night. I had a good race. Bit of a ding-dong with Gordon Dixon of Morpeth, nip and tuck the whole way, but I found a sprint finish somewhere in my kit bag to take 5th place, 1st Vet40. We were both ousted from the 4th place we'd been vying for by a storming last 1/4 mile by Ben Davidson, who chose his moment to show the old boys how it's done. There were a lot of good performances recounted amongst those I spoke to post-race- Bruce C seemed delighted to have elbowed his way into the top 10 with a pb 3 mins down on his previous. Rob M-J of WRC and Charmaine Love of Berwick Harriers reported similar improvements in their times.

Cycling efforts took a new turn when fellow triathlete Big N suggested having a go at time trialing with the Berwick Wheelers. A fine friendly bunch and a good opportunity to sharpen the biking up a bit. Right-ho then! Some Thursday evenings since have been spent wearing lycra and pedalling westward for various distances along the Tweed Valley and back as fast as bloody possible! This is indeed fine fun and I feel some improvement in the cycling department, not my strongest tri discipline. Some of these chaps are rather quick I might add! To be continued...

With a view to the Castles Challenge Triathlon, it seemed like a good idea to start a bit of open-water swim training and there were some ideal opportunities with full tides, sunshine and calm seas on three evenings during the month. Big N and Mr S joined me on one occasion, along with a new triathlon recruit, Mrs E (Mr S's good lady!) preparing for her first Tri outing which was at Alnwick Sprint, as well as for the Castles Challenge too. Nothing makes you feel like you've been doing something active like swimming in the sea does, but it seems the kitchen cupboards can never be full enough to cope with the increased appetite induced!

Amongst other running and biking efforts I've found a sort of favourite session though which is the cycle across to Wooler for a Tuesday evening hill run and then cycle home again. Weather, and all else, permitting I'm hoping to get several more of those in during the longer days. We're blessed to have such amazing countryside to drip the sweat of our efforts on. 

Although May brought some glorious weather, race successes and high points in training, there was sadness too following the death of Rod Rutherford of Berwick Harriers. Rod was a long time member of the club, prompted to join in the first instance after his son and daughter did so. He subsequently took up the role of club treasurer, later secretary, and was qualified as a coach. I've probably heard more words of encouragement during cross-country races, on days when everyone involved would rather have been indoors, from Rod than anyone else I know. R.I.P.

 

 

 

Lambada Legs. Selkirk Tri 2010.

Two or three hours of Brazilian dancing the night before probably isn't the best Tri warm-up but the Brazilian Soul Festival at the Northumberland Hall in Alnwick was a great night out. Nice one Sarah! And I at least managed to keep the booze at arms length, downing flaggons of water to keep hydrated. If we'd had to demonstrate some Salsa/Lambada/Mambo aptitude during the race transistions then Mr.S and I could well have placed higher up the field, for my oft-time tri buddy was also out a-groovin' with his lady and learning some steps.

Dance shoes he may have had. But bike shoes he did not, as he suddenly realised whilst speeding the Tri-taxi towards Selkirk! They'd escaped his kit check-list, and a pale look curtained his face as we realised there wasn't time to turn back to base. I've not yet ventured into proper bike-shoe territory and suggested he'd either be able to borrow some or, failing that, would be fine cycling in his trainers on the flat side of the pedals. He didn't seem entirely convinced and we pressed on toward what seemed very ominous weather westward, another bad omen. Add in one total sandpaper throat, usual marker of the onset of a cold for me, which had been developing for a day...There were hurdles!

The weather held up though and was pretty good for racing. A bit of headscratching about what to wear on the bike. Would it rain? Get any colder or windier? I donned a light jacket over the tri-suit on the cycle leg for the first time and ditched it for the run. The day got progressively nicer, even the light headwinds on some parts of the bike route slowly abating and the warmest sunshine politely holding off until most competitors were done. One bad omen buried.

Swam OK, despite a lack of training in that department, but was glad to get onto the biking even if that section was where things started to get a bit wobbly. I got my sights set on two up ahead who were quicker out of the pool from my heat and got going to catch up. Not long after the first of  2 significant climbs on the route I caught one and started making gains on the other whilst ascending the longer hill approaching half-way. Threw caution to the wind on the steep descent thereafter and, just after reaching the Yarrow Valley road put in a burst to pass. But... too much hard work on the climbs, and not thinking enough about another 9 miles ahead on the relatively flat road back to Selkirk meant I'd not much left in the tank when I was in turn overtaken. My lower back was aching a bit and I had to settle for a steady spin over those last miles whereas I'm sure it was a flat-out burn for many on what was the fastest part of the course.

OK going into the run... achy back settled down...pace felt good...first mile down...the naughty one who managed to get past me again on the bike coming into into range once more... Hey up! What's this then!? My quads suddenly went poisonously tight and I had to slow things right down. Wondered if I was catching some bad vibe from the naughty cyclist ahead because he was in an even worse state and had slowed to a limping walk. I gave him an egg-on as I jogged past and things started to loosen up again although I couldn't get back to my previous pace. Pressed on though. Poured the half-way water over my head rather than drink it and tried to think past the finish-line. Quads did another little Salsa of their own at roughly the same point on the return, to remind me of the night before! And the sore throat started to put in an appearance again too, just for good measure. But, after a slog of a last mile it was done and I crossed the line in 2:28:40something with Mr.S cheering me in. He'd had a good race by his account and the power of positive thinking had kept the bogey of forgotten bike shoes at bay. Trainers on the flat of the pedals worked out OK and, despite the run course being longer this year, he thought he was within his time for last year. Jolly good going indeed. However, Big N's plans to race were scuppered by a sore back so sympathies out to him and better luck next time.

The Castles Challenge Tri looms.... Early June. North Sea promises to be Brass Monkeys this year!

 

 

 

 

 

Volcanic Dash.

Cheviot might've been undergoing a quiet minor eruption for all we knew whilst waiting for the start of this year's summit race. The top certainly couldn't be seen, shrouded as it was in a damp mist, nor did it reveal itself at all during the course of the morning. Not much more was revealed, even to those that hauled themselves up there during the race, as the blanket enveloped the entire hilltop and clung round the trig-point turn which suddenly loomed eerily for runners approaching along the flagstones. As one marshall wryly commented in the gloom when I made the halfway, "The view was hardly worth the effort!"

But, although some scallops of snow still lay in hollows here and there (I make that 4 months continuously that Cheviot has borne some snow now!) and it was murky and cool up top, further down the hill and in the Langlee Valley it was relatively warm and clear albeit with a headwind to test the field a little on the outbound leg. And the tracks and paths were surprisingly dry. Not bad conditions.

Glenn gave the off at 11 and away we went. No-one was in the mood to put up much resistance to Phil Sanderson's intention on taking the lead and away he went. His silhouette, effortlessly gliding along some far distant ridge, is becoming like an image from some strange recurring dream for a lot of us mere mortals of the fell running world in these parts! Second place was comfortably settled into as well from early on by Charlie Stead of NFR. Next in line, Lee Bennett and I, nipping and tucking for 3rd and 4th for most of the way, didn't realistically have a chance of moving any higher up the placings unless something went wrong for those ahead after they'd drawn out some yardage with strong legs early on.

So...that's where the race was for me. I got a neck, Lee clung on. Lee got the edge, I clung on. I was tired though. Knew I was slower than previous attempts here. Knew I shouldnt've done hill reps Thursday night. Knew I was going to regret having been surfing yesterday. Always good to have an excuse to trot out! Force the breathing. Gulp in as much oxygen as possible. Ignore that miniature boxer hammering away in the chest-cavity. Lee seemed to sense my reluctance to make a decisive break and eventually he made his move, right at the start of the steeps of Cheviot itself, a few seconds extra dig which I didn't respond to and which gave him about 20 yards. I didn't lose touch though, which I felt might happen, even though I had to drop to a stride at a couple of points wheras Lee kept the jog going all the way up. On this part of the climb I'd actually felt the presence of the next chaser, Bruce Crombie, who was making ground on us all the time with that perversely admirable ability to make it hurt that I just didn't have today. However, up onto the flagstones for the half-k or so across to the trig, and I felt a little more like it. Lee hadn't gone completely clear and I felt I had the speed over any of the followers. And this close corridor out-and-back bit is always fun as runners pass each other and bander shouts of encouragement at speed whilst trying to avoid going off the flags and into the morass! Into the descent and 3rd place became a possibity again. I took a wide line which avoids some of the boulder fields whereas Lee had retraced his upward steps and, suddenly, was just 30 yards to my left not 50 in front and, I could see, was hesitant to let loose on the steeps. I relaxed, played the risky trust game that the strong descenders do, let fly and went past into 3rd. The exhileration was short lived though, and going by how I'd felt on the last of the climbing up, I'd thought it might be! The little rise back up to the Scald just seemed to wring my legs totally dry of anything they had left and the descent momentum steadily descended! Lee was at my shoulder again and before long it was time for me to sportingly give him an egg-on as he went past, just as he had to me a minute or two earlier. After that I couldn't manage any last burst to catch up again, especially as the onset of blistering heels was pushing me onto my toes. A glance back and I saw that the followers were out of attacking range so I coasted the run in for the 4th place and a time of 57:18.

Well done all competitors.Thanks to Glenn and crew for the organisation. Funds raised went to Northumberland Search & Rescue and Help For Heroes. Prizes were donated by Glen's wife's business, The Chocolate Box, in Wooler. Full results usually appear before long on Northumberland Fell Runners website.

nb: Just for the record, I found out that Cheviot is 34th highest peak in England, 68th in UK, as well as being an extinct volcano- which we all knew anyway.