Race Report: Cape Wrath Ultra 2018

The short version - I timed out at CP1 on day 3 after learning a lot about my lack of experience on technical trails.

The longer version...

The Cape Wrath Ultra is an 8 day expedition race, starting near Fort William and ending at the lighthouse at Cape Wrath after approximately 250 miles and 33k feet of ascent. Having run for 10ish days consecutively in the Scottish Highlands last year, covering about the same distance and the same elevation, I had a romantic idea that this race would be the same thing again but just with less weight on my back and slightly longer days to cover it all in 8 instead of 10 days.

Day 1 of the race was pretty fine. A bit too much road for everyone's liking, but nevertheless not far off what I was expecting at all. Camping with 7 other women in a huge tent was less scary than I thought, too. I was 5th into camp from my tent and in just under 5 hours so I felt pretty good about how things were going.

Day 2 was a whole different ball game. With the forecast being for rain and wind all day, we all suited up in waterproofs in the morning and got pretty cold and with numb fingers within the first hour. I don't remember a huge amount about the route as it was all along boggy trails, stream courses and on trails where the trail wasn't visible, so I had to pay attention to the ground pretty much the whole way. Also there was a lot of wet boulders and in the final section around the edge of a loch, some scrambling over and asking the edge of rocky "paths". I felt anxious on behalf of anyone who would be covering that section in the dark later, as it was I made it in to camp a good hour and a half ahead of the course closure for the day. There were a few who didn't and were retired from the race.

So it took me 14 hours to cover 35 miles and 6.5k feet of ascent, but it was the descent that was hard on my legs and the frequent clambering over wet boulders and loose rock. I wasn't feeling great in my head and had a chat with some of the race staff about the likelihood I'd get around day 3 in the allowed time. I was facing 42 miles and a shit-ton of ascending but someone who'd done the race in 2016 told me that it wasn't as difficult going as day 2 had been so there was a good chance of being quicker. I went to sleep unsure of what I would choose to do in the morning.

Day 3 dawned and I started out just as if I was going to head out for the run. I had some breakfast for once and packed up my day bag with water and snacks and set it into the sunshine (and very cold wind). The first section was a lot of uphill over very easy ground, so it was hard work but very manageable. We then came up over the top of a lower gap between two peaks and over the other side to descend down again. This is where it started to get hard.

The route was along what looked like a wall of boulders that had been placed to stop something from sliding down the mountain (see the first picture in this post - zoom in a bit). The problem was that the path to follow was over huge, loose boulders with big gaps in between. Prime territory for snapping an ankle (or trekking pole, it turns out) or twisting a knee pretty badly. This is surface that I've really zero experience on, so I was really really slow and I started to lose a lot of time. Then once we were lower down and I'd long lost sight of anyone else, the trail wasn't visible on the ground and some of the route was off-trail in any case. So I wasn't amazingly fast on some of this section until I passed one of the other runners and found it a lot easier to navigate due to not needing to look at my feet all the time.

I crossed the wide river further down than was recommended on the route, but it was a lot shallower there so I was fine with that choice. At this point I thought that passage point was the one with the 11:30 guidance time and I was right, but I didn't look at the time yet. I was demoralised still from the previous day and the earlier rocky sections and I think I'd checked out in my head already.

However, I carried on making progress towards the next CP, which had a hard cutoff of 12:30, still having not checked the time, but making easy ground. The route passed a camp site at that stage and for the first time in 3 days I really really needed a poo right now. However the camp site wasn't publicly accessible, so I couldn't use the loo. I had to find some tree or bush cover and I was, of course, now in a populated area. So I kept an eye out along the short section of road and spied somewhere I could hide for a swift one. Yes it was nettley and brambly and I got scratched and stung but at least I didn't crap my shorts!

Literally 300m down the road from that quick pit stop was CP2. And a 12:30 cutoff. And if I'd run it, I would have just made the cut off. But I didn't really want to, so I walked on in and when the race staff apologised for having to stop me, I was actually grateful. But at the same time disappointed and ashamed.

From the way the race was publicised, it had never crossed my mind that it would be this technical. So it never occurred to me that I'd need some more mountain skills than I have right now. I thought it would be a tough and honest load of climbing and running on trails which would give me a decent challenge but I'd get around within the time allowed and be wrecked at the end. In reality, it's really not that simple.

Folks who did well in this race were either mountain and/or fell runners or adventure racers with a lot of experience. And I think the race publicity is a little disingenuous not to be more clear about the terrain and surfaces and skills needed to be successful with this race. Yes they are clear with the distances, elevation and that you need "mountain skills" and to be self-sufficient. But, in my opinion, that's all too vague and encourages folks to enter who range from a bit under-prepared to fairly dramatically under-prepared. I like to think I'm more towards the earlier end of that spectrum. It's a pretty expensive race (logistics, equipment and staffing really kinda justifies the cost), though significantly cheaper than MDS, for example, it's still a fair old chunk of cash (even if you're not one of the Malaysians, Japanese, Australians, or Americans who came over to race it) and a race that's not without personal risk and I think there's more responsibility to be taken by the organisers on this front.

I'm coming away from it with a mixture of shame at my own lack of experience, disappointment at not finishing, and a little bitterness that the conditions were not made more explicit. I don't like being beaten and I want to be better at this stuff, but I also want a fighting chance to prepare for it, which I don't think I quite had here.

Time to rest and relax a little, with some active recovery, and think about what I want to do next and whether Race Across Scotland is still what I want to be doing in a couple of months.

Race report: XNRG Druids Challenge (84 miles in 3 days) - Day 3

Day 3 - the day my Fenix 3 lied about it's battery charge level :(

So my watch was on charge over-night and reported 100% when I put it on, but when I pressed "go" it suddenly had only 50% charge.  Hey ho.

Anyway.  Breakfast was arse - with the porridge being burnt to the pan it was cold cereal or nothing and I didn't feel like nothing so I had 3x Weetabix with a banana chopped up and lots of milk and a couple of mugs of tea.  So far from my usual food and I've not had banana since Cat Faux gave me half of hers before I did a couple of London Triathlon relays in 2013 (which was again the first banana I'd had in over a year).

Anyway...

Day three and the diesel engine was starting to wind up.  I ran more of this day than the first day.  I felt better, more able to run and the running felt better on this day.

To be fair, the elevation profile was gentler on this day, but *oh boy* was there a sting near the end in a downhill on tarmac which resulted in me being in tears and I heard folks behind me shouting obscenities due to the pain in their quads.  Harsh work so close to the finish and it really shows you where you've not taken care of your legs on the earlier downhills.

At the end, I was glad for it to be over.  The chap I came across in the last few miles was right about where the finish was and it was further away and more up a hill than I was happy about while we were talking.

I feel like I earned this medal and the long-sleeved top we were given at the end.  I didn't have the greatest physical performance compared with what I think I'm capable, but mentally I did a great job of getting over having a pretty terrible first day and various setbacks around availability of food I prefer to eat for breakfast and evening meals as well as pretty evil blistering on my little toe.  I was grateful for Tina the foot-care specialist and the job she did in holding that toe together enough to get me through days 2 and 3.

Ultra, to me, is about problem solving and overcoming adversity.  If it were easy, I would be less interested in doing it.  Though I do think it's easier than straight-up road marathons in many ways, it's only because I'm in a place where I want to compete at road marathons, but I'm still mainly completing ultras (which are also mainly off-road) as it's so variable and new and I've not done the same one more than once (yet).  And I think it's something I can sustainably do for many more years to come.

Race report: XNRG Druids Challenge (84 miles in 3 days) - Day 2

Day 2 - the day of Weather

Having spent 15 minutes in a cold shower, picking the mud off my legs at the end of day 1, followed by not the kind of dinner I was looking for and a fairly mentally difficult day, I'm not entirely sure how I ended up carrying on on day 2.  It got a bit worse before I started too...

I prefer to avoid large amounts of carbohydrates in my diet.  This means my breakfasts (when I have them) are usually based on eggs, avocado and cheese in some form.  Breakfast on day two was a choice of; boxed cereals, croissants, pains au chocolat, bananas, orange juice, and porridge.  So, porridge it was.  I'd normally start a run without breakfast if it starts in the morning and then eat when I'm done - this is what I did most days on my Thames Path trip last year, where I was averaging 31 miles a day and it works well for me.  However, on this day I really felt like having some breakfast, so I listened to that and had a pretty big portion of porridge.

Having felt quite demoralised on day 1, I knew that day 2 was going to be tougher physically despite being shorter.  Muscles would be feeling pretty used & abused from a pretty long run the day before, including having enjoyed some downhills a bit too much and challenged my quads somewhat.

So it did take a little while to get going and it was already raining by that point - the forecast was for rain until around 1pm and 20mph average winds.  And by golly the weather delivered.  I'd been warned it'd be quite exposed out on the ridge on this day and adding the extra miserable weather forecast, I decided to keep a long-sleeved top in my pack as well as my waterproof/windproof jacket.

Having been shivering with the cold before the start on day 1, a good few checkpoints yesterday and again today were asking me if I was cold when I would show up in just a skort & t-shirt and motor on through.  I only really got cold after the last checkpoint on this day, despite the torrential rain that fell from pretty much the start of the day until midday.  There were 20mph (average) head winds that swirled & gusted and didn't die down at any point during the day.  The rain stopped at midday, which was really nice.  But then it started up again about 45 mins later, getting harder and sharper and evolving into hail with the wind turning from a head wind to a side wind.  The rain > hail was so sharp it was hard to keep my eyes open.

You can see here from the look on Tim's face that it was pretty painful! 

Terrain-wise; there was a fabulous section through the woods, skipping over hidden logs and tree roots under the pretty Autumn leaves on the ground.  But as a counter point, there was more wet, slippery chalk to skate over too.  Much less of that than on day one, so much less crossness resulted. 

Having stopped to fill water bottles at all of the checkpoints on day 1, and take a snack or two at the later ones I reduced it to only filling water bottles on this day and a couple of bites of Marmite sandwich at the final checkpoint.  And I ended up drinking too much water.  I stopped for a wee 6 times!  Part of that was down to being wet to the skin all day and chilling my mid-section as a result, but I definitely felt water-logged as my hands swelled quite spectacularly, having been fine the day before, and I was feeling a bit queasy by the end of the run.

By the end of being soaked to the skin, chilled by the fierce winds and pummelled by sharp hail, I was so happy to see tea & coffee coming out of one of the vans at the finish line.  There was a short wait while one of the shuttle buses came to take a batch of us to the leisure centre for the evening.

Where, by the time I got there, there was no water.  Not even just no hot water in the showers, but no water at all and the pipes drained down pretty quickly with all that loo-flushing and hand-washing going on.  No fun at all.  So, I ended up using my damp sports bra to scrape the mud off my legs before putting on clean trousers for the evening.  The meal was much better though - a lovely fresh salad, sausages and pasta for those who like that.

Another trip to the Tina the foot-care lady was needed as the tape that was on my little toe since the previous evening had partly come off, bunched up and taken a lot more of the skin from my toe off with it.  This time it needed a bit more attention; dressing for the night to keep the iodine doing its job and then it'd get some hospital-grade burn dressing in the morning to protect it during tomorrow's run.

Race report: XNRG Druids Challenge (84 miles in 3 days) - Day 1

The Druid Challenge is a 3 day stage race (on foot).  84 miles from Ivinghoe Beacon to Swindon along the Ridgeway National Trail.  It's run by XNRG who organise quite a few multi-day ultras through the year; ensuring they're at least 26.2 miles on any given day with individual day entry so each day counts as a single marathon for those aiming to enter the 100 Marathon Club.

I decided I "needed" to enter a real multi-stage race, having had a go at a self-supported 6 day run along the length of the Thames Path last October.  I really enjoyed that and it would be a nice easing back into the land of ultra marathons with a 3 day stage race of less average distance per day than I covered on my Thames Path run.

The week before the race, I had mostly pretty awful runs and wasn't really feeling it, so I decided to stay in a hotel near the start so I could have more sleep rather than taking the train up to Tring on the morning of the race.  I stayed at Pendley Manor (which is over-priced and shit, by the way) and got a cab to the station where there were shuttle buses to the farm where registration was happening.

Day 1 - the day my engine & legs didn't want to play.

Day 1 is the longest day and the latest start time of the 3 days.  I'm guessing that the 10am start time for those who would be walking is to allow for folks to get a train to Tring from a reasonable distance away, get registered and sorted out and up to the start, rather than being forced to stay overnight nearby.  But at almost 30 miles, starting at 10am if you're walking, or 11am if you're an average runner means you're definitely finishing in the dark and it's pitch black on the trail at this time of year at that time of day.

Anyhoo, I got the shuttle bus to the farm having met a lovely lady called Viv who had recently covered the Camino di Santiago, and registered in a grain shed.  A couple of cups of tea later and some chatting with a couple of Spanish hikers who were looking forward to their first official ultra race (which they were entirely likely to be covering with quite some efficiency as seasoned hikers), and it was time to head up to the start.

We were briefed on safety and the race philosophy - it's a challenge, fun/enjoyable, and be safe - and then walked up Ivinghoe beacon to the start in quite a chilly wind and up a very slippery chalk path which we were going to turn around and run back down again along the start of the Ridgeway path.

Neil, the race director started us off with a countdown from 5 to 1 and off we went.  And immediately my legs pretty much said simply "piss off".  And my breathing was laboured right from the off, despite not that much speed being involved.

The profile of the route today looked like it was one of the tougher ones as well as being a bit long, so that made me feel even worse, mentally, given the state of my legs and engine.  It felt like I was pushing way too hard, or wasn't warmed up, but the pace was pretty sedate.  It took around 25 miles to warm up in the end and I only felt reasonable with 4 and a bit miles to go on the final stretch.  There was a lot of sliding sideways on slippery mud on this day, and I wasn't the only one who was pretty frustrated by that and a bit cross on a good few occasions.

There were some pretty cool sections, running downhill through leaves in the woods, skipping past folks who were a lot more tentative over that terrain.  It felt amazing.  At one point in the woods, I was almost by myself but a blonde lady was just in sight ahead of me.  She was going to take a straight on into a farm, where I though there was a gap in a fence where the trail went, so I called to her that the route went through the fence (which it actually did).  I recognised her voice straight away as the melodious tones of Niandi Carmont (ultra runner and podcast guest/partner of Ian Corless on the Talk Ultra podcast).  She was so encouraging and supportive throughout the 3 days of the race, and we had a good few chats in the evenings.  It was great to meet so many lovely people over the days (and some familiar faces too), but it felt like we got on really well and it's a shame I'm not likely to see Niandi again (mainly because I'm rubbish at that sort of thing).

By the time I got to the final check-point I thought I might just make it to the finish before sunset, but in the end I was about half an hour short of that and ended up using my amazing head torch (which was a Christmas present a couple of years ago).  The final stretch was a good few miles along a dark trail and then along a couple of roads.  My legs and body had decided to behave themselves by then and I felt a lot better, like I was really motoring (which I wasn't, but at least it felt like I was) into the finish line.  Day 1's running over with I went into a very dark place and wasn't sure that come the morning I'd start the next day with the other runners.

A hot shower and a nice dinner might have made me feel better at this point, but the showers in the school we were staying in were cold, and dinner was pretty uninspiring dry chicken breast in a runny sauce with some boiled veg.  OK, my dietary preferences aren't exactly mainstream, but still...

HOWEVER, the race organisation was good! The checkpoints are well-stocked and I did have 1/4 of a Marmite sandwich and a few mini-cubes of Rocky Road during the day which was what I wanted at the time (especially the Marmite sandwiches :o) ).  The medical care, especially the lady who took care of everyone's feet who had any problems at all, was fantastic.  I had ignored a bunched-up sock on my little toe all day and created a spectacular blister that she drained & taped up for me so it was protected the next day.

29ish miles done... time for sleep and see what the next day brings.

Sneaky 15K race

Rotherham might well be cold, wet and muddy next weekend.  So having a little leg stretch this weekend, on Clapham Common, in the rain, mud and cold was a perfect head-straightener in the final few days going into the Ultra.

15km, some on paths, some on gravel, some on grass and some on mud was a brilliant re-check of the Skechers Go Bionic Trail shoes and how they perform in less than gorgeous conditions.

It was raining on the morning of the Clapham Common races (5km, 10km and 15km plus some shorter ones for the kids) and had been overnight too.  Add to that a gusty, chilly breeze and it could have made for an uncomfortable run.  However, I wanted exactly those conditions for a number of reasons; testing kit, testing resolve, seeing how well I deal with mud.  So I ditched the running rucksack on this occasion to focus on other kit choices:-

• Shoes - Skechers Go Bionic Trail
• Socks - Compressport Trail Socks
• Shorts - Compressport Trail Shorts, layered with short lycra shorts on top for warmth
• Top - Compressport Trail T-Shirt, layered with a Pella Team Freespeed t-shirt for warmth

A few minutes before the race, I took off my rain jacket and put it and my rucksack with dry shoes and socks in with the baggage drop.

Mr TOTKat and I intended to have a relatively steady race, but it didn't quite turn out that way.  I trotted off quite briskly at the start, keeping cadence high in order to set that for the rest of the run.  1km in, I felt good and glanced at my Garmin which said 05:23 for the first km.  About 30s to a minute quicker than intended.  But I didn't ease off.  I found myself working through the field on the first lap (1 lap for 5km, 2 for 10km and 3 for 15km races).  As I ticked off the kms and other runners (not caring at that point whether they were doing 5, 10 or 15km) I felt that the pace was good and then I was wondering whether it was sustainable for 15km.  No better way to find out than keep it up!

On the second lap, I started paying more attention to the people I was passing; checking out the colour of their number bib (red for 5km, blue for 10km and orange for 15km).  I needed to see if I passed women with orange on, or was being passed by women with orange on - I wasn't being passed at all, so that wasn't a problem.

Come the 3rd lap, with fewer of the 10km runners still out on the course, I was still maintaining the pace and felt fine with it - not a piece of cake, but still sustainable without feeling like I wanted to slow down or stop.  I finally caught sight of a woman with an orange number ahead of me.  Target locked in, I thought about trying to catch her.  I couldn't see any more further ahead and there were none behind me for quite a way.  So I tried a bit to see if I could reel her in.  To cut a boring story short, I just couldn't manage it because I'm not experienced enough at racing just running and she spotted me about 3km from the end and just made sure I didn't get any closer.

38th finisher, 10th woman, 2nd F40-44.  Happy with that.  Now time to take it easy into the weekend!

Kit check:- The t-shirt was great; it certainly helped with posture and keeping my body upright rather than drooping as the race progressed.  The shorts supported my thighs and back really nicely too - the extremely high waist was a godsend in keeping things upright and the drafts out.  Very very happy with the Compressport Trail kit indeed!  The Skechers trail shoes were pretty good on the grass and mud, I had no problems with grip, but did get very wet feet indeed - to be expected in the conditions.  I'm not entirely sure how they drained out the sloshing water, it was a worry due to lack of drainage holes in the soles, but somehow that just worked and my feet weren't a wrinkly mess at the end.

Race Report: 70.3 Zell Am See 2013 - I have never raced so hard

Cutting the long and boring flights story short; we arrived and our bikes didn't.  They weren't loaded onto the plane at Heathrow when we were and arrived at out hotel at 6pm on Saturday.  Thankfully, we had some advice from a friendly MC we know (thanks Paul!) and a quick chat with one of the organisers gained us permission to rack up in the morning - thank god for the race start being from 10am!

So, most of Saturday was spent doing a fat lot of nothing, accompanied by ze alcoholfrei, which the Germans & Austrians seem to do really rather well and with copious choice.

Nice and early to bed and as we were settling down, we heard a weird noise.  It sounded like a cross between an air-brake and a high-powered water hose.  I got out of bed and walked towards the window then realised, as I got level with my bike, that the noise was coming from my back wheel and it was air rushing out of the inner tube into the deep-section rim.  (See in the photo below the thick bit of black on my back wheel - the valve extension goes through that from the inner tube and out so you can attach a pump to it.)

Time to whip out the tyre levers and fight off the still relatively new tyre to replace the inner tube and/or find out what was going on.  Thankfully it was nothing bad, just the rubber at the join between inner tube and the valve had failed.  So all I needed to do was replace the inner tube.  I say all... with deep-section rims as deep as this, you have to use valve extenders and seal them in with PTFE tape; of which I had none.  Cue sitting on the floor and crying.  Mr TOTKat was a total hero, and a lot calmer, he let me have one of his spare inner tubes which had an extension pre-taped to it for field repairs.  Sorted.  Back to bed.  Sleep.

Up at 7am (lie in!) to get some brekkie and go to rack up at 8.30am as agreed with the race officials.  All went smoothly, nicely checked in and racked up.  It was raining lightly as forecast.  Mr TOTKat  was due to start in the first wave at 10am and I was 25 minutes later in the "all women and relay teams" final wave.  We kissed and he headed off for race start while I tried to keep from getting too cold by hovering in the cafe area, having already handed in the street-wear bag with shoes, socks and warm clothes for after the race packed in it.

Time passes.

(Thorin sits down and starts singing about gold.)

10:25 and I'm in the water (which is nice and warm at 19Cish) and the cannon goes off to start.  And I make what I think is the most accurate route to the first buoy I've ever managed in one of these races.  No feet to draft off, which was a shame, but a straight line out for the 890m or so to the first buoy, no argy-bargy at all and none really around the turn point.  Felt a bit sick, but that usually happens when I'm trying reasonably hard, so I ignored it.  Dead straight again to the 2nd buoy another 230m so onwards and the nausea I'd had for the first leg wasn't fading.  I just thought I was putting in some good effort.  Turning the 2nd buoy I couldn't see where to aim for and am pretty sure this third leg wasn't all that straight.  But, I overtook an awful lot of people from the earlier wave in their yellow hats.

Up the steps, yanking at the arms of my wetsuit which is a sod to get over elbows and wrists... to the carpet through to transition, to grab blue bag, get out of the wetsuit and into bike kit.  I'd packed light for this race as it was never going to be that cold, so all I needed to do was put on race belt, glasses, helmet and bike shoes (yep, I still haven't got around to learning to mount the bike into shoes that are clipped into the pedals).  Even if it rained really hard, it wouldn't matter - no point wasting time and effort putting on rain jackets or long-sleeved tops on the bike as the rain was probably going to be pretty hard and I'd only end up with a lot of wet fabric clinging to a lot of my body, making me really cold.  I did shove my remaining bike tool into my back pocket and then as I was trotting to the bike mount line I thought I'd dropped it and spent a good few seconds worrying and looking, but gave up pretty quickly - no replacement inner tube, no tyre levers, no pump.  Plenty of mechanical problems I could fix with that little multi-tool, but I'd just have to live without it.

The bike course was wet, it rained on and off, but mostly on and I got cross with a lot of people.  There was drafting galore and blocking.  The course may well be technically quick, but you'd need to be familiar with it.  There aren't that many straight sections, there are some, mostly out around Piesendorf, and it's narrow in places, with wooden bridges to cross too.  It is pretty darned flat though.

Still.  I overtook A LOT of people.  Including a GBR male age-grouper who may have been having a bad day. (I looked him up afterwards, he started the race 15 minutes before me and was 25-29, poor pup!)

Strava estimates my highest average wattage of any ride I've ever done:-

Compare a reasonably hard training ride with this race...

80km training ride in the UK

90km race in Austria

and again...

80km training ride (no I don't think I actually hit 74.9km/h - mad thing!)

90km race

Putting aside the well-organised draft trains and blocking from a certain Austrian age-group female, it was the hardest effort I've put in on a bike ride.  Ever.  By the end of it, my quads were pretty unhappy and as I reached the dismount line, I had to hold onto the hedge to unclip my second foot.  I then burst into giggles as I could barely walk, never mind jog through transition.  Guess what?  I still felt pretty sick.

My auntie was there at the entrance to transition, waving and cheering me on (thank you for travelling 200km on that day to see me for all of a few minutes!), so I gathered enough beans together to jog really slowly through transition, my legs feeling like two logs strapped to my backside, flapping about underneath me.

T2 was just as simple as T1.  Bike racked, bike shoes off, helmet off, number belt swung around to the front, visor on, running shoes... oh!  Oh man!  My feet were covered in grit from the bike course.  Really scratchy grit.  So, I used about half of the water in my bike bottle to wash it off as best I could before putting on my running shoes.  No way did I want grit in my shoes for 21.1km, stripping the skin off my feet.

I chugged the remains of my bike bottle, ditched it into the red bag, grabbed 2 gels and ate one.  Off out onto the run.  Just about to exit transition I felt something banging about in my back pocket - my bike tool!  I was drawing parallel with where the blue bags were hanging up so I thought I'd drop it off in my blue bag.   I just couldn't find it though, so left it on the ground at the side near the bags and hoped it'd be there later.  Off out over the timing mat now and up the long spur out to the 3x loops.

Starting out on the run, my legs were pretty shot.  They felt like lead - never have they felt so awful from bike to run.  And within the first kilometer, my right inner thigh just above my knee (around the end of my VMO) started to niggle.  Within the first two kilometers I wanted to stop or at least walk.  I was pretty broken.  It took a lot to keep moving.  My first boost came from one of the couple we met the day before the race when they didn't have bikes arrive either.  The chap gave me a good shout out and it helped keep me going.

Up into town and onto the loops.  Winding around town and out along the lake side, each km seemed to take forever.  I felt ill still and that gel had done nothing for me.  I struggled to keep my legs moving as they started to hurt more and more.  There were a couple of little rises in the town and a dip under a bridge which made walking more and more tempting.  I made a deal with myself to walk the aid stations to drink water as I'd only had 1/2 a bike bottle so far, the rest going over my feet to get that grit off.

Plenty of support out on the course, lots of bells, whistles and "hop hop HOP!" from the supporters.  Lots of "go on Kate!" when they saw my race number and I passed the lady of the other late bike couple twice and each time she gave me a good old shout out - I could do no more than grunt.  It hurt.  My legs really really hurt.  I passed Mr TOTKat  for the first time (going along the bit where you meet people on another part of the lap) and he shouted out to me, giving me the fight to keep going some more.  I didn't think I'd see him again before the finish line.  Then more support from familiar faces, Freespeed team-mate Declan gave some great encouragement right on one of the little rises and I simply didn't recognise him the first time.  I was in quite a dark place with sore legs and continuing rising ill-feeling.  Added to that was quite a hot spot in my left shoe, but I was ignoring that.  I'd felt worse and it'd been fine before.  The temptation to stop or just walk was huge.  The bad voices in my head kept saying "What's the point, hundreds of people have passed you anyway; you're not going to get a podium place anyway, your run is far too weak for that and you went too hard on the bike. Why bother?  Just walk...".  Those voices are the ones that make you slow down, or give up.  You have to ignore them if you want to achieve your goals.  Have to.

By the third lap, I felt pretty awful in the guts and had no idea why or how I was still going.  To my huge surprise, I saw Mr TOTKat  again and realised either he was having a terrible time or I was having a great one (it turned out to be the former) and then Declan and other familiar faces again.  The final run back from the far end loop the sick feeling reached a peak, I let out some wind and then... realised I needed one of those portaloos.  Right.  Now.  Except I was way past them and there was nothing but path, grass, lake and the odd tree.

Not Good.

I walked a little, hoping it would ease, but there was no stopping it.  I found some sort of tiny bush, better than nothing, and yanked down my shorts.  A passing athlete asked if I was OK and I grunted a "yes" as I sympathised with Paula Radcliffe rather deeply.  It was that or basically run with shorts full of poo.  And I mean -full-.  I felt quite a bit better after that and got my act together for the last couple of km to the finish.  A couple more bits of run/walk and with my three lap counter bands in place, the fourth time through the band gates meant I could go left and hit the final 100m to the finish line.  Grim determination made me run that last 100m and I crossed the line, bent my head for my medal, was wrapped in a foil blanket and then collapsed at Mr TOTKat, saying "I couldn't have given any more".

And despite my usual post-race over-analysis and self-criticism, I really believe that.  On that day, I could not have given any more.

It turned out that hot spot in my shoe was a problem and the blood soaked through my shoe.  I sweated, bled, cried, and worse for this medal.  But I did it honestly, unlike many out on that bike course - the only sour note to the day.  12th in my age group, but an age group twice the size of any other Ironman branded race I've done to date.  Best placing in age group in an Ironman branded race, best time in a 70.3 by 36 and a half minutes, and the first time I've really left it all out on the course in any race.

And all for this medal.

P.S. a little comparison with Galway, the race that wasn't.

Compare Zell Am See (above) in 2013 with Galway in 2012 (below).  The coloured bands are set at the same thresholds of heart rate (ignore the drop outs for Galway, my strap was less reliable then and I forgot to turn it off at the end - actual race time was 06:18:58).  Much more effort.  Much less crashing and breaking bones too :o)

UK Ironman 70.3 2013

UK Ironman 70.3 2013 - or "you live and learn"

Last year, this race was great fun.  I was really very fit and had spent the winter scampering up the Surrey Hills in the snow on the bike and on foot. 

My bike was only 2 years old and in good condition.  That is not what happened this year.

So, I spent most of the winter 12/13 not doing a lot due to injury and then missing mojo and general apathy.  Things pick up a bit in March and April and I got a great week in at training camp in Spain.  But then I started a new job and I let that take over my life.

As the weeks ticked by with very little training going on (I looked at it the other day and I averaged 3.5 hours a week, compared with 8-9 a week last year).  While I was getting the short, quality sessions in, I was missing the basic endurance and fitness I'd previously done.  I got chubby, unfit and weak but was in denial.  I also ignored the niggling "get your bike serviced properly" thoughts and assumed I could get away with giving it a bit of a wash and lube.

Let me tell you this right now: you can't get away with any of that on the UK 70.3 course.  You just can't.  It demands more respect than that and if you don't give it that respect you will be humiliated by it.  And I was.

We decided to make the race weekends less impactful this year by going out to the venue on the Friday, straight to registration, then take Saturday easy before race day on Sunday.  So, we drove over to Exmoor on Friday last week to weather forecasts predicting doom and rain all of Sunday; heavy heavy rain and some reasonably stiff winds.

Heading straight to the Expo/race site to register, it was apparent that the weather in the days leading up to arriving had been less wet than last year as the site wasn't a mudbath when we arrived.  Registration was quick (the race kit bags are much nicer this year!) and I said hi to a few Ironman staff before trundling to the pub to check in.

A quick meal and a glass of wine and off to bed we went. Via obsessively checking the weather forecast every hour or so to see if it had improved.  And it did!  The rain had been due from pretty much 5am on Sunday and to last all day, but the forecast moved towards rain not hitting the area until midday.  That would be perfect as quite a lot of people would have finished the bike leg by then (me included most likely) and that would take away the biggest fear - a wet bike route and most specifically That Descent being wet.

Saturday was racking up and having a splash in the lake day and I was glad of that little swim as I'd not been in a wetsuit since Galway and certainly not with my modified swim stroke.  The water wasn't anywhere near as cold as feared and a good 2 degrees warmer than last year, so no cramp and no need for neoprene socks (despite them being allowed this year due to the cold).  Bike checked over, tyre pressures done and gears and brakes checked it was off back to the pub for a nap and a relax before very early dinner and bed.  Alarm set for 4am we were in bed at 9pm and asleep very shortly afterwards.
 

Sunday morning... a tiny bit of drizzle fell as we loaded ourselves into the car, but it stopped pretty quickly and the roads were dry.  With the great new traffic control system in place, we had no traffic troubles getting into the site car park, though as we'd not put the little badge in the windscreen early enough we got routed around a little loop to be asked about parking fees.  Parked up nearly and not too far from transition, I was in my final decision kit of tri top and shorts, calf guards, arm warmers all to go under the wetsuit for the swim, along with a neoprene hat under the race-issue silicone hat.  The plan for the bike was to add a bike jersey, gloves and warmish socks along with having two sets of toe warmers over my bike shoes to keep the chill off my toes which do suffer!

Mr TOTKat helped me into my wetsuit and being in the second wave I had a little more time to amble down to the lake shore for a bit of a dance to the thumping tunes while people stared at me like I was some kind of loon.  I felt great, the water wasn't cold, the rain was going to hold off, I wasn't worried about getting cold or falling off my bike or anything! The first wave of athletes were set off, and the second wave waited to be called down to get in to the water.  Bounce bounce bounce down to the shoreline where I bumped into a familiar race official who greeted me with "I know you!  Last time I saw you, you were crying in a tent in Galway!"  Cheeky so-and-so!  He was being funny and we chatted a bit.  He also remembered a lot more about the Galway thing than I did; "nice new watch, I guess the last did look pretty smashed up."  Anyway, off into the water we all toddled to wait to be released - race briefing had been very very clear on not waiting about at the start of the race in order to keep people from getting cold and we were in the water no more than a few minutes before the hooter went off to get splashing.

The swim... wasn't all that quick, to be fair.  I did get on toes quite near the start and drafted for quite a while before shifting to other toes and others then I ran out of toes and had a lot of clear water.  Then I was alongside someone for a long time, eye-level to eye-level breathing on opposite sides but facing each other so it felt a bit weird seeing their face every time I breathed.  To be honest, I didn't put a huge amount of effort into the swimming; for some reason that seems to happen most of the time despite the intention to go hard.  A little loss of direction on the final arm of the swim course as it was hard to see where the actual swim exit was, meant a little argy bargy with someone else as I careered more to the right than I should have, but I got with the programme in the end and aimed better for the final 100m or so.

Hauling out and up the long, grassy slope up to transition I actually managed to run this year!  I pulled down my wet-suit to waist level to make running easier, and sneaked a peek at  my watch.  00:39:xx  Oh dear!  That was pretty awful!  But still... the bike and run still to come and less faffing in transition could easily make up a couple of minutes on last year, so I just carried on and got on with making my way to transition... where I found my bag straight away - I did a proper recce and positioning run through when racking up, so I knew exactly which row and level to find it at.  Transition wasn't too shabby, though a little trouble with damp feet and socks despite towelling them a little.  Off out and onto the bike!

Here's where things weren't so pretty.  Being in the second, smaller wave and not being too speedy in the swim meant that it was a bit demoralising as well over 1300 people were already ahead of me on the bike course, and not very many people behind me.  With a bike course time hopefully a little under 4 hours, I'd be finishing the race pretty much in the last few people over the line even if I was doing well for me.  I put the thought away as quickly as I could and focussed on not falling off in the first few meters after mounting up, like a lot of people did last year.

As last year, the plan was to warm up a bit and spin for the first little bit.  There is a sapping rise not far out from transition and there's no point knackering yourself on that so early on.  So gently up that and it started to drizzle a bit.  Down the zoomy bits, picking up some speed and really starting to enjoy the bike.  First major hill and I got a bit of chain ring problem dropping to the small ring but after a couple of goes it went in.  More zoomy bit, then the evil descent that everyone is scared of.  Except it was a lot less scary.  And the no-overtaking zone (which was also a no tri-bar zone for safety reasons) was clearly staffed by a race referee who verbally alerted riders to the zone start.  At which point I'd already slowed down a bit and had some poor fella on a TT bike pop over a cats-eye alongside me and need to pull in to inspect his mighty steed for damage.  I really only sat on the brakes hard towards the bottom of the nasty descent and partly due to the fact that it was now raining appreciably and there were many many marshalls waving people to slow right down to the stop at the junction at the bottom.

The descent de-demonised and over with, I carried on to the last appreciable hill of the course and had a sticky chain ring shift again.  That started to niggle in my mind more until a very short little uphill which is sharp and really does need the small ring; I tried to shift down but it wasn't having any of it and I had to rapidly unclip and get off.  Not good.  I manually pushed the chain onto the small ring but now I was 1/2 way up a sharp hill and couldn't get on to carry on pedalling up.  So I had to walk.  Oh the shame.  Up to the top to a flat section and back on again.  But by that point I was really not happy with the state of not being able to even semi-reliably get onto the small ring.  There are a lot of hills on this course and I could either stop at the bottom of each one, get off, shift the chain onto the small ring, get back on and pedal up the hill; or I could hope it'd change down, have it fail and at some point fall off into a hedge or something.  It was also raining quite a bit by now.  And I looked down at my bike computer and the time was awfully close to 2 hours and I was not done with lap 1 yet.  And I'd been not doing so well with the uphills, finding it hard to get enough power into my stroke to get a reasonable cadence even in the lowest gear.  It was at this point that I mentally gave up.

I had a few km to decide whether to throw in the towel completely or not and as I finally approached the junction to either start the second lap or take the road back to transition, there was a lot of wet gravel and speedy pros shooting up the road back to transition 'cause they were done with lap 2 already.  I stopped, got off and talked to one of the many marshals.  With a complete mental wrench my decision came down on the side of retiring from the race and I welled up a bit as I told the marshal I was retiring; "Athlete 1048 retiring at check point 6." was the message into the radio and that was my race over.  I was so disappointed in myself for letting things get to a point where my bike wasn't reliable and I was so weak in the legs that the hills filled me with almost dread.  Climbing back on my bike, I hugged the left-hand hedge all the way back to transition to let the pros zip past; they wouldn't expect there to be a slow athlete on that part of the course, so I needed to give them as much room as I could.  The rain got heavier and heavier and the temperature dropped a couple of degrees.  I got cold.  Really quite cold.  And I thought to myself that I was quite glad not to be out on a second lap with this level of cold and rain as well as the other problems.

 Several people cheered and applauded as I rode past and it just made me feel worse.  They thought I was super-fast, when really I was a quitter.  Into transition and I racked up my bike, not really knowing what else to do but I thought it best to just keep it out of the way of everyone else still racing, and I went into transition to find out how to get my white bag so early and I was sent to the medics as there had been 4 people already come in with mild hypothermia and they didn't want me to be a 5th.  So I got a foil blanket to get me from transition to the tent with the white bags where my warm clothes were.  I was very glad of the foil blanket as I started to really feel the cold now I'd stopped putting any effort in, what I really didn't think of was the fact that my clothes were soaked through and I had no towel.  So I had to put my warm, dry clothes on over wet ones and that meant I really never warmed up properly.  The next 2.5 hours before I could get my bike was going to be less than fun, but one of the race officials ushered me through to the post-race hog roast and gave me a hot sandwich to help with the cold and then I went to try to find Mr TOTKat - lord alone knew where he might be at this point, but as pros were getting towards finishing it was likely he'd be around the finish chute.

And there he was.  Tears, tea, cake and cuddles made me feel better and we talked through what happened.  People came and went in the little cafe, hiding from the rain and cold while the poor Ironman staff and volunteers were out in it all for hours doing their jobs.  We toughed it out with me shivering and cold despite all the layers, but due to the wet inner layer, until it was time I could get my bike out from transition.  Sad to leave before the awards ceremony as there were plenty of friends and others we know who would be getting awards, but I really needed to get out of those wet clothes and to warm up properly so we headed back to the pub.

And that was Ironman UK 70.3 2013.  Not pretty; lots of mistakes leading up to it and plenty to look at for the next 11 weeks into Ironman Zell Am See/Kaprun 70.3 with the Virgin London Triathlon in the middle of that.  One of the mistakes is getting fixed next week - my bike is going in for a full service to make sure it's happier (though I'm likely to race these two races on my TT bike which is in great condition :o)).  The others I've talked through with myself, Mr TOTKat and coachRich and we should be in a good place for some solid work over these weeks for those fast, flat courses.  Two real positives I can take from UK 70.3 this year are; my fastest recorded speed on the bike at a whisker under 60kph and still pedalling at 94rpm at the time, and the famously tricky descent that scared the poop out of me last year was a lot less scary and I barely noticed needing to brake until the lower part of it.  Very happy with that!

Blue line - speed, yellow line - cadence, green line - elevation

Thank you to Mr TOTKat for being Iron Sherpa for this race, for looking after me, driving me, helping calm me down before and after the race and being generally a sweetie.  Looking forward to getting to the next race together!