Park Life?

I've had a self-enforced relaxing week. Three days off work were welcome after my triathlon. I correctly assumed that I would need the rest so booked some time off in advance.

Although I'd noticed the problem before last weekend, my right calf muscle has been niggling me. My after-event massage was excruciating so I resorted to the R-I-C-E principle - Rest, Ice, Compresssion, Elevation. It has helped.

Yesterday I did a 5km run at Concord Park. This was my first time at a Park Run event, a great initiative that takes place in Parks around the world every week. Its free to enter. You just have to turn up with your bar code that is allocated to you online. It's a very informal and relaxed race against the clock rather than the other runners. The competitive element does help though which enabled me to set a personal best of 26mins 55 secs. Hardly earth shattering but nice to know I'm improving my running slowly but surely.

Today was much harder, the aptly titled Moss Valley Madness 10km trail run. It was a killer. Valleys cut hillsides which in turn twist the tap on the lactate in the muscles. I was chased by four cows in a field and swallowed a fly. 1 hour 3 mins of pure hell. At least my Dad was there to cheer me on. He is a former cross country runner for the County. Unfortunately, there must have been some genetic mutation in my DNA as I don't seem to have inherited much from him when it comes to running over 5km. He told me about the time he entered the 12 miles Sheffield Star Walk once and was waved off by his parents. Now, Nannan and Grandad Crashbar will have been in their fifties at the time and I remember watching my Dad in that race, but it is amusing  to find out that he got to the finish of the 12 mile race at Owlerton Stadium on foot quicker than Nan and Grandad on the bus!

Because it was quite chilly this morning and because of my calf problem, I wore a longsleeved running top and compression tights for the first time in race. Both helped immensely though I was caked in mud all over by the time I reached the Hollin Bush for a well-earned beer.I was sat quietly with the bar to myself until I was joined by the pub football team en masse. The team must have either lost or all the players must be suffering from Tourettes because the language was appalling. I don't like bad language in public and I was nearly ready to tell them to shut the **** up until I realised there were 11 of them..

Next weekend, I've got my first Aquathlon event. A swim/run event in Solihull. Looking forward to this one.

I am a Triathlete!

Southwell  Last Minute Triathlon

After driving through a foggy and cold Sherwood Forest, I arrived at Southwell Leisure Centre to meet my nemesis, The Esendex Last Minute Triathlon.

After registration and collecting my race number and timing chip. I familiarised myself with the transition area and did a walk around. The first wave of swimmers were just setting off at 7.30am and were emerging out in to the cold at the rear of the pool complex to run in to transition.  I had a couple of hours to prepare for my wave at 9.56am so enjoyed a flask of hot coffee and a banana whilst keeping warm in the van.

I moved in to transition and checked my bike tyre pressures, stocked up my transition box with jelly babies (none of this expensive gel nonsense) and laid out my pre-talc’d kit of running shoes and socks plus my helmet. I threw in a few plasters and tools for good measure just in case. I racked the bike and went to watch some other competitors going through as they clambered on and off bikes between T1 (Swim-Bike) and T2 (Bike-Run).

It was quite reassuring to see that my 1980’s Raleigh Europa racing bike wasn’t quite the oldest, not far off though. Also, some of the mishaps that I dreaded happening to me happening to others. I will never forget the sight of a middle-aged lady running out of the pool in a bikini, putting on a rain mack and then climbing aboard a shopping bicycle ever! Nor, the elite-looking triathlete guy 3 metres across the bike mounting line getting off his bike, sitting on the floor and putting on his cleated bike shoes after giving up trying to do it whilst mounting his bike.

About half an hour before my start I did my stretching exercises and then I was called to the pool start. I had been allotted a lane to myself (maybe they had heard how frustrated I get sharing). I swam the 400m (16 lengths) steadily to avoid over exertion. I walked briskly out of the pool before the barefooted run in to transition about 30m away.  

Because I was wearing a trisuit, I didn’t have to mess about towelling off and putting shorts on. It was helmet on, socks on, shoes on, mouthful of jelly babies then off on the bike.

The bike course was an out and back 17.6k cycle to the village of Lowdham. I got overtaken by several others on the undulating course. My six gears made it hard going in places but I appreciated the cycling club that shouted encouragement up the hill telling me to “dig deep”. It was motivating and welcome encouragement.

The return leg was harder due to the head wind but I was pleased I didn’t have to get out of my saddle or stop even once before rolling back in to transition for the run up the infamous Southwell Slope for the 5k run.

It took me a while to find my running legs but I just took things at a steady pace.  It was 2 laps of the windy road course and I saw a few familiar faces going the other way. Soon it was all over and I was turning in to the finishing straight, my name booming over the tannoy as I raised my arms in personal victory towards the photographer as I crossed the line. I had done it, become a triathlete.

5 months ago I couldn’t run a mile without stopping. I needed to cross train to help my swimming endurance. Within six weeks I had completed a 5km race, and since then a 10km. I have done 2 open water 1 mile swimming races and have a new zest for my personal well-being.

I’m loving it.

Speedo Big Swim @ Rother Valley

100k miles up!

I took part in the Speedo Big Swim at Rother Valley Country Park over the weekend.  Arriving at the lake, my trusty van clocked 100,000 miles on the odometer.

The weather was glorious and the temperature was such that wet suits were optional. All bar one person wore one though, including me, for the mile swim around the main lake.

Nice day for a lake swim

Open water starts are always a bit of a rugby scrum so I took a position near the back of the pack. I only got hit by a couple of arms and feet this time.

Half way around I noticed a swimmer struggling. He turned on to his back (which is the open water swimming signal for, ‘Help!’). I got to him before the rescue boat and made sure that he was ok. The guy was alright, just out of breath and tired. I swam with him for a while until he composed himself and found his stride again.

I found this a tougher swim than the last. Lots of pond weed to wade through. I front crawled to the first buoy but my goggles had steamed up by then. I switched to breast stroke and removed my goggles for better visibility and for a breather.

I exited the water with the notorious jelly legs syndrome but still had to run up the slope to stop the clock on my chip timer. It’s a phenomenon associated with triathlon and I still haven’t mastered it. It’s a bit like jumping straight out of bed and going light headed and woozy when you stand up. My official photograph won’t exactly be an Ursula Andress moment, where she strides out of the sea all glamorous, on to the beach in the Dr No film.

My time was 32 mins 34secs, faster than my Dip in the Dales swim, but slower than I wanted to be, although I did lose time making sure someone wasn’t drowning. It should have been a sub-30 min swim.

I made my way to the bar at the lake side and ordered a beer. I saw a child with a fishing net and heard him say, ‘Look Mum! I’ve caught some tadpoles!’ 

Rother Valley Country Park - formerly an old coal mining site

Ah, the joys of open water swimming.

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In other news, Izzie has changed the band name to Tokyo Witch Hunt, which being as this is my blog, I may refer to as Japanese Eyes/Lips when I feel like it.

Ok?

Next weekend is a busy one. Bomfest gig on Friday.

Then, the small matter of my first triathlon on Sunday morning.

Sub-hour 10k

Over the weekend I competed in my first 10k running race. The Bawtry trail run was in fact, by GPS calculations, 10.9k (6.81 miles).  Albeit a very warm 22 Celsius, the run was through cool forest land and was quite heavy and boggy underfoot in places. I managed to get blisters on the soles of each foot as a result. I didn’t pull up any trees with my final position but I did achieve a sub-1hour 10k by my calculations.  

I’m only 30 mins behind Mo Farrah now.

Next up, 1 mile open water lake swim at Rother Valley.

The Strange Case of the Disappearing Rectangular Hay Bale

The last throws of a Summer sun on harvested fields always evoke memories of offering up my tin of baked beans as a gift to the poor at the St. Vincent’s school harvest festival mass. That, and singing, “We plough the fields and scatter..”

I love harvest time imagery, especially seeing the bales of hay, set out as a collection of monoliths on a low sun bathed hillside on a September evening. But I’m troubled.

Whilst passing field after field, I have been seeing only round hay bales. What ever happened to the rectangular bales that we used to make dens out of as childen? Have aliens moved on from crop circle making to rectangular hay bale rustling?

Yes, I am right. I have just seen a lorry carrying a load of rectangular bales heading South on the M1 near Bolsover.  Where do they take them and what do they need them for?  Can we stop the alien invasion by cutting off their silage supply? Does this mean aliens are vegetarians?

Troubling times.

The Ups and Downs..

 

As much as this blog is my soapbox to express any of my opinions freely, I am self-moderating this particular posting. Not because I want to say anything that is offensive or such like, but because it may be misconstrued.

Eyes/Lips…

Our recent South Seas gig… the less said the better other than it frustrates me when you work hard in rehearsal, but once you hit the stage, the sound just doesn’t happen. I have my own thoughts on this and will share them with Izzie and Nina as to how we can overcome this issue to a large extent.

There was nothing wrong with our playing.  We did our best as usual.

My triathlon training…

Yesterday, I spent a day at Southwell preparing for my forthcoming triathlon there. Triathlon England had organised a novices day for triathlon rookies like myself. It was a great day and I got to meet likeminded individuals who had also pressed the “send” button on the entry form whilst perhaps having a beer at the time, like me.

I managed to fall off my bike twice when practicing T1 (transition from swimming to bike). My saddle is quite high. Have you ever tried running beside your bike 30 seconds out of a quarter mile swim (simulated butterfly arm strokes on the all-weather 5-a-side soccer pitch actually), then hopping on one pedal with your left leg whilst hurdling the bike with the other? Not normal but I did eventually get the hang of it. I didn’t jump the mounting line either unlike some amateur Olympic bronze medallist called Jonny.

There were five lanes in the pool, six swimmers to each making it rather claustrophobic. The lane ropes were over the marker lines on the bottom of the pool. This meant a few collisions with the rope and side of the pool because it was hard to judge a straight line of swimming, especially in a crowded lane.

Out on the rugby pitch we did some stretching exercises and cadence work before half walking, half jogging the run course. There is a steepish hill straight out of transition which will require some strength straight off the bike.

We didn’t get time for the bike run so on the way home I drove the ten mile course to familiarise myself with it. Quite undulating.

Memory of the day..…back in the debriefing room, a slide show. This picture of cyclist face down at side of crumpled bike in transition.

Happens to the best of us, mate.