The Dambuster! My first olympic distance triathlon

Dambuster ... Where to start?! So many bits to it...

Pre-Tri

I booked the Friday off so I could get ready at a leisurely pace. I felt quite nervous when I woke up. In hindsight, it appears this was more about possibly forgetting something vital rather than nerves about the event itself. I packed up and hit the road. When I got to Rutland Water, I was feeling good. The place itself is beautiful you can’t help but feel really chilled out there. I impressed myself putting two tents up and got chatting to my neighbours, a couple from Essex. Cue much reminiscing about past races, conversations about strengths and weaknesses and expectations for the race. I never got their names, but the guy was talking about them adjusting the swim course because of the wind when he did the Vitruvian in the same place a couple of years before. He said once you got out of the lagoon it was surprising what impact the wind had on the water. I didn’t pay this much heed at the time. I went for a mooch down to registration and looked at the swim course which was already marked out. The first buoy looked miles away. So did the distance from the first to second buoys. I told myself I had already swum 2km, and no matter how far it looked this was only 1.5.

Camping was rubbish! The rain that had been forecast turned up in the middle of the night. This was preferable to when I was putting the tents up, but still, it was really loud and I was struggling to sleep as it was so I woke up in a foul mood. I ate a banana and a high 5 energy bar and walked my bike down to transition. I set up gradually, having time to get most of my camping stuff back in the car. The early start is purely to get some proper breakfast in plenty of time to avoid indigestion in the race. I know from experience that I need to eat a couple of hours in advance or it will hurt. This seems to be true for other people too. I spent the rest of the time hanging out on the beach or running for a last minute wee (I had six loo visits before the start!) which got annoying once I’d got my wetsuit on. On the morning itself, I felt pretty excited and eager to have a go!

Swim

During the race brief, there was an announcement that the swim had been adjusted to reduce the amount of time in the main lake. This had reduced the swim to 1400m instead of 1500m. The swim was a beach start, as opposed to the deep water start at Rother Valley, so that was a new experience. “Beach” was a pretty generous description. “Stony as chuff” would have been my preferred choice. It was an ”ooo ahh bugger” tentative getting in process. We had a few minutes to get wet and cold before the wave started before we were told to only be in “ankle deep” which clearly loosely meant “knee deep”. I stayed to one side, not wanting to get caught up in the washing machine that is a group start, and when the start blower went I gingerly took a couple of steps and then threw myself as far forward as I could. I got going, the main group heading off and leaving me behind with a couple of slower people (fine by me. Preferable to getting booted in the face). All of a sudden, I felt I was rocking side to side. Imagine laying on your front, and rocking from left to right. We had come past the mini-headland and were into the main lake. The impact of the wind was completely unexpected. I had no frame of reference for it. It was worse than the uniform, slower feeling of waves in the sea. It was all over the shop! I had to stop for a second to let it register. Luckily, in swimming, I am ambidextrous! I resolved to breath to my left only, as the choppiness was hitting from the right and trying to breath that side could end up still feeling like your face was underwater as the ’wave’ washed over your head and left you with a mouth full of water. Weirdly, stopping never entered my mind. I was thrown and confused, but it was just something to deal with, though when I spoke to my friend and my Essex neighbour after the race, they both said their first thought had been to bail after hitting the choppy water, so I felt quite chuffed about how I had handled it. Anyway, so there I am, breathing to my left until hitting the first buoy. The other thing was, waves push you, so I was having to correct constantly to make sure I was going to go around the first buoy correctly. It felt like a proper battle and was very tiring. After the first buoy, you start coming back on yourself, so of course I began to breath to my right, still keeping my face away from the choppiness and being glad that I would be out of it sooner rather than later. It really did throw you off your stroke! I was sighting as best I could and heading in the right general direction, but because I was breathing to my right had no idea what was going on to my left. One of the safety guys in a canoe said to me that I needed to be more to the left so, risking a face full of water, I finally looked in that direction. Lo and behold, a line of people who are much better a sighting than me, and much faster at swimming, from the wave starting after mine, were filing past! I had been pushed off course again, quite severely, and had probably done about 50m on top of what I should have. I soldiered on, sighting the next big orange buoy. It didn’t seem too far away. The water got calmer again, when suddenly I was caught up in a second group of people from the wave behind me, and no matter which side I breathed I was facing body parts churning up the water. I faltered for a second, choosing to let them get ahead a little, then carried on, realising that the buoy I thought was the turning point actually wasn’t, and there was more to go before turning back towards the beach. I thought it was probably a good thing that this had happened, because the alternative was recognising just how far it was from the first to the second buoys which could have been disheartening. Finally, after what felt like forever, I was coming out of the swim. As much as I was kicking like hell to get the blood flowing, I still felt that weird drunken feeling that changing blood pressure brings. This was aggravated by the stones on exit again. Essex neighbour had discussed being really disorientated after the swim, but I only realised what he meant when I was already out on the bike. I’d totally forgotten to put my calf compressors on!

Bike

The bike was good overall! For a change. All that work I’ve been trying to put in has been paying off. It was a long route around the whole of Rutland Water. Within five minutes of setting off I realised I needed the loo! I wasted time pulling off on a hill to dive in some bushes (potentially a penalty!) before realising they were too nettley! Then diving off again to sort myself out. Then I plugged away. The downhills didn’t phase me like they do in practice. I milked them for all they were worth! I started with three gels on my bike but only managed to have one, the other two disappearing somewhere along the way (more potential penalties) so more secure taping to my bike next time. In spite of this, I never felt completely knackered. I felt able to plug away. I felt I was managing the gears better than I have before. I’ve always been able to get up bonkers hills without bailing and walking, but the whole thing had a smoothness too it which felt a lot better. I was worried about cramping calves, but they were fine. The only twinginess I got was the odd feeling in the backs of my thighs, which I felt was the result of gradually adapting how I cycle. There were a few people pulled over with flats, and several ambulances/police went past with sirens going. When I was on the home stretch (having done a dummy run a few weeks earlier, which I thoroughly recommend for any course) I felt good, knowing I had the legs for the run. I knew I was running low on energy, but I also knew I could plod indefinitely if need be.

Run

The run was a straightforward out and back partway round the lake. I hit T2 and really felt like just sitting and taking 5! I got my trainers on and plodded out. It always feels a bit rubbish seeing other people packing up just as you head out on the run! You can hear the announcer on the loudspeaker when you are around the finish line and I could have sworn I heard them saying the time was three hours fifteen, which meant I was screwed for my 4 hour deadline, as I knew the run would be at least an hour. I sucked it up and set off. Just after one km I saw my friend Jonny heading back in and gave him a high five in passing. This was a boost as I had calculated that he would have finished before I got out on the run. I was already messing about with motivating numbers in my head... When I hit the next marker, I’ll be 1/5^th of the way through, just after that, I’ll be ¼ of the way through etc. At 2km I had a mental word with my feet. They were feeling quite hot, and I told them that whether they blistered or not, I was running on them anyway, so they could just shut up. I distracted myself by trying to breath out a mild/moderate stitch that was persisting (and did throughout the run). The dam crossing was rubbish, as it was exposed and came with a gusting side wind, so it got you on the way over, and on the way back. I managed to take in some scenery (I can’t say enough how totally beautiful it is). At about 4km I realised I could look across the lake to the finish, and it seemed a lot further back round than 5km, but reflected it didn’t feel like it had taken that long to get here, and it wasn’t going to make any difference to how I was going to deal with it. The turning point came with a feeling of elation, as they usually do on runs like that: “I’ve broken it’s back”, “I’m on the home straight” etc. Strangely, at 6km, I suddenly was hungrier than ever before! If the cutest kid in the world was eating his favourite sweets with relish I would happily have stolen them at that point! That went within a couple of minutes. I made my way back and down towards the finish. When I saw it, I couldn’t help but smile.  One of the marshalls who had been filming all day was videoing and shouted “sprint finish?!” Well I couldn’t argue with that, so I got a spurt on for the last bit. The tannoy guy was announcing finishers names and as he gave me a shout I waved my arms and crossed the line. He clearly liked that, and asked if I was going to take a bow, which I did. I immediately felt nauseous, to the point of wondering if I was actually going to be sick, but the lovely ladies at the finish sat me down and it passed. My friend came and gave me a big hug. I had a couple of occasions shortly after finishing where I nearly welled up as it was quite overwhelming. Ultimately, I felt awesome! I was so chuffed with the time as well. I came in the last handful of people, but I did it!

Now for some serious training for the Vitruvian!

Rother Valley Sprint Triathlon

Hoorah! First open water swim triathlon under my belt :-) To be honest, it was really nerve wracking. I was worried about getting eaten alive in the carnage of the swim start, so I stayed well back. By well back I mean at least a foot back from the whole group! Luckily it wasn't a big wave, or it didn't seem it. When I started I still ended up seemingly surrounded, which I suspect was due to the people in front being too closely packed together so I set off when some of them were still waiting to start. I didn't get kicked in the head, thankfully, but had a couple of sideways crashes where we just seemed to bounce off each other! Then most people got ahead and I got into plodding rhythm, only disturbed by my crap sighting which threw me off balance. It was a simple triangle swim: Straight out, left, straight on, left, back in. I'm glad I had some open water practice, and I knew I could do the distance, so after the start was out of the way (the only bit I wasn't familiar with) I felt I could plod round, which I did. It felt like it took forever! I was really surprised it was under twenty minutes. I wasn't last in my wave but I was overtaken by a few people from the wave after. Still, I did it! The funny thing was it has taken me ages to faff about with my wetsuit when I've been for a swim, but I whipped it straight off in T1! 

On a separate note, turns out my cycling sucks to high heaven. I feel my run is fine (thanks running buddy), and even my swim is coming along. The swim is known for being technical and there are lots of bits to learn with it, but the bike? What can I do? I asked my friend and excellent triathlete, and his advice was "more hills"! 

Anyway, you learn something every race. Well chuffed with it. Hope there's some event pics somewhere!

Update: 6th June 2013

So, what have you missed? I'll try and keep it in chronological order. I still find the most fascinating aspect of all this is how my HEAD deals with it. My body is straightforward... It's either working or it isn't, but my HEAD is a temperamental beast, though I'm beginning to see a pattern. It would appear that I am getting better at preparing, but in more insightful moments I see it as keeping the bugger quiet. It's a case of learning how to do this. Hopefully, summarising my recent sporting efforts will give you more of an idea of what I mean...

4th May 2013: Scunthorpe Half Marathon. Pleasure rating 10/10. Pain rating 2/10. http://www.northlincshalf.co.uk/

This was awesome. No doubt about it. I knew my body could do it, having been broken severely by Sleaford Half in February. There's something about "I know I can do that because I have already" that does wonders for your headspace. I went in thinking if anything was going to let me down it was my body as I was having recurrent blister issues on all my long runs. Lo and behold, I did have to stop twice to try and sort my left little toe out, finally compeeding it and running it numb, but it did the job! My running buddy and I thrashed our Sleaford time and both felt sore but great! Job done.

11th May 2013: Lincoln Sportive - 10/55/75/100 mile bike. I chose 55. Pleasure rating 3/10. Pain rating 8/10. http://www.itpevents.co.uk/events/the-lincoln-grand-prix-sportive.html

I'm loath to score it 10/10 for pain as that conjures images of ambulances or at least a hospital visit in the car.  This was an unfamiliar beast and I TOTALLY underestimated it. As a result, it bit me firmly in the arse and rightly so. I wasn't taking it seriously, thinking I could just mooch through it. WRONG. Mainly due to head reasons again. Firstly, it was about my third time out on my clip in bike shoes and my confidence was pretty much zero. To compound this, the route started with a right turn onto a main road, immediately followed by going straight over a busy roundabout. I felt panicky taking the right turn, then went into shut down on seeing the roundabout immediately afterwards. I pulled off onto the pavement, unclipping, and started to shake. Then I had a mini-cry. I was completely terrified and my head was full of visions of me flipping over someone's car bonnet. I pictured myself walking the bike back to the car, packing up and texting my friend (who was somewhere ahead) to let him know I had to bail. I was completely in that moment and reacting with it. After a few deep breaths I managed to think about the bigger picture. I HAD to get over this. I had triathlons coming up which would be much easier if I could get used to the clip in shoes. I couldn't go back to normal shoes now as it would feel like a step backwards. Also, I knew that 55 miles couldn't all be in such a built up area. We'd be out in the countryside soon, I just had to get that far and I knew I'd feel more comfortable. I challenged my all or nothing thinking: If I set off again, I could still bail if it didn't get any easier. I could stop whenever I wanted. This internal tussle happened pretty quickly. I blew my nose, walked my bike across the pedestrian island to cross the roundabout, and got back in the saddle. I found a group to tag on the back of and followed their lead until we got out of town, which was within 10 minutes. I sighed relief and began to enjoy the countryside. Soon after, I met three lovely guys who were going just a smidge faster than my comfortable pace and passed the time chatting with them until we hit the 25 mile feed station. It had taken an hour and forty-five minutes and the route had been fine. I set off again without the guys because I felt they'd been going a little slow just for me and didn't like the idea I was holding them back. From here on in, everything went wrong. My front gears began to falter and I was really having to mess with them to get them to change. This was a right pain because there was some massive ups and downs on the first section of the second half, as well as later at Scampton. Slipping gears aren't what you need on hills, especially clipped in, so eventually I gave up and just sucked up the fact that I would have to creep up the hills super slowly, legs screaming, on the hardest cog. The weather changed, turning into a nasty head wind along with icy rain which seemed to never stop. I became aware that my feet were sodden and I couldn't feel the front half of both of them, no matter how much toe-wiggling I did. My right achilles began to hurt on and off. This began to happen with at least 20 miles left, and all I could do was keep riding. I had no frame of reference for where I was and just kept telling myself the end couldn't be far off. I had my phone as a clock. I'd been riding for two hours so kept telling myself I must be nearly there considering how long the first half had taken... How wrong I was! I didn't know at the time but I had at least another hour to go. The weather and change in route difficulty slowed me right down. My achilles pain was so bad at points that I was riding and crying. I had loads of people overtaking me which didn't help where my head was. I got to the end and should have gone down a steep hill to come back up a steep cobbled street, as is the sportive's tradition. I had been telling myself that this route would be shut due to the rain, as per the race instructions, and that the alternative flatter route would be being used. This wasn't the case. I took the shorter route anyway. By this point, I was just satisfied (I was going to type happy, but that is definitely not the right word) to have got through it. I crossed the line and immediately headed for the car. I was wet, cold, miserable, in pain, exhausted and really pissed off with myself for my own stupidity at how easy I had expected it to be. When I got to the car I packed up on autopilot, got changed in the passenger seat and then cried hysterically. Like big heaving sobbing gasping for breath crying. I felt like I needed to get all that frustration and unhappiness about the ride out, so I just let myself go for it. After about ten minutes I stopped, wiped my face with a face wipe and felt better. I could start putting it to bed now. In hindsight, I am glad I broke it's back, because I need to do that distance in a triathlon later in the year, but I won't underestimate the distance again... No fear! However, my head now says "I know I can do that, even though it was really hard" and that is a good thing. I am hoping it will be my cycling equivalent of Sleaford Half Marathon, which was horrid, and my next 55 mile bike ride will be much better. 

19th May 2013: Race for Life Cleethorpes 5km. Pleasure rating 10/10. Pain rating 0/10. http://raceforlife.cancerresearchuk.org/choose-your-event/cleethorpes.html

This was a trip down memory lane for my running buddy and I. We did the RFL in 2011 and wanted to see how far we had come since then. We had a right laugh all day! We set a target for 28 minutes and did it in 25.23 and found it easy! Like we could have pushed a bit further! It was a good lesson in pacing too. Head wise, no issue at all.

2nd June 2013: Dambuster bike route. Pleasure rating 8/10 Pain rating 2/10. http://www.pacesetterevents.com/dambuster-triathlon.php

My friend and I went for a camping trial at Rutland Water and whilst there did the Dambuster bike route.I didn't understand what an awesome idea this was until after we'd done it. The route is lovely. Couple of frapping hills at the start and end, but otherwise nice roads, straightforward route, happy days! I can already imagine that this will make it feel a little easier to deal with on the 22nd of June when I am waiting to start the swim. Taking the mystery out of it and knowing what to expect does wonders for your head: "I know I can do that". Though my achilles was twitching towards the end! Need some more long ride practice. 

5th June 2013: Swimming the lake. Pleasure rating 8/10. Pain rating 0/10.
http://www.activities-away.com/              http://onehundredpercentswimming.co.uk/

After seeing it three weeks on the bounce doing the open water swim course with 100% swimming at activities away, I finally swam the 800m lake. It had been taunting me for ages. It looked SO BIG and the end was so far away people appeared tiny. There was that thing in my head saying "what if you get in trouble down there?" I had to pop my lake cherry! I was due to go down there with a friend, but he bailed last minute for completely valid reasons so I was on my own. I was nervous getting in the water, then I just got on with it. Turns out I was too distracted by how utterly crap my sighting was to worry about how far away from help I was! It was nice to get 800m under my belt before my first open water sprint at Rother Valley this weekend. And I can chalk it up as another "I know I can do that, I've done it before" experience. This is clearly the way forward for me!

The power of the brain... It seems to me that all these events have been impacted far more by where my head has been than what state my body is in. My body does what I tell it. My head decides to accept or ignore pain, or fear, or choose to stop, or carry on. I'm amazed by this. All those references to being "psychologically ready" for events that are made in books and magazines make sense now. You can blag your way through a sprint, or a 5km run, but this big stuff is literally a head mashing experience. I like learning journeys though... so I'll crack on!

Till next time...

Sue

The Psychology of Running

"Running isn't just a physical sport. Mental and psychological training is also needed to run your best. There are many aspects of the psychology of running. Your brain is a powerful organ. It is responsible for controlling all of the functions of your body, including muscle movements. You brain even plays an important role in running fatigue. Psychological training involves improving your brains resistance to fatigue as well as motivational techniques such as visualization, positive thinking and disassociation."

from: http://www.runningplanet.com/training/psychology%20of%20running.html viewed 22/04/13 23:32.

Take your pick. I googled the psychology of running and it came up with 29,300,00 results in 0.21 seconds. This was just the first hit. The wonder of the web! Anyway, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Take someone who has always had an interest in psychology, add running, bound to get complicated! 

Take tonight for example. I left my running buddy as she'd already done her long run in preparation for Sunday's half marathon. I realised I hadn't run outside alone for a while, mainly because I wouldn't run straight out of my house as it's in a built up area. I resolved to make an effort to get down to the sea front more. I hit a nice rhythm, not exhausting but making me breath a little harder. Nice endurance pace. I was really enjoying myself. What interested me about this was that at the same time, I wasn't entirely comfortable. I had some burning type of feeling giving me a little bit of discomfort in my abdomen. My head went "Aha! I know why that is" and immediately blamed the naughty and very fatty lunch I had eaten (Ramsden's homemade quiche and chips!) a few hours earlier. This was something manageable. In my experience, eating at the wrong time, or eating the wrong thing, occasionally gave me a bit of belly jip, and it could impact how fast I could run, possibly leading to a stitch (which it did) but it was get-through-able. Like stitches in fact. My running remained the same and my mood was just as good as it had been before. Happy days.

 I had a lovely little nostalgic lift as I plodded round my old stomping ground. I thought about how much the 4 mile loop had given me so much grief and was such a challenge when I started running, but now I had that "infinite plod" feeling that made me feel like I was bounding round it in comparison! And the 4 miles were just a section of my current run. That was a boost!

So everything is going super, and if I had been able to see my face I would probably have been sporting a little smug grin, when DISASTER STRIKES! 5.8 miles in, 'the toe' starts playing up (I need a nickname for it I make reference to it that much). The impact of this on my head state could not be MORE different from that of the food/stitch situation. My head goes back to the last time I had a problem with my toe (my last proper run before this one) where it ended up causing a limp and stopping play. I do what I can with it (basically stop and prat around with re-arranging my sock) then try to continue. A second attempt at sock shifting and it's still there. I'm proper narked. I'm already seeing me having to bail out of the half marathon without even making halfway. Apart from that, I'm still a minimum of two miles from the car and walking all that way (getting cold from clammy sweat) is not an option. I find myself deliberately trying to overpronate to keep the pressure off it. I imagine that I'm making the whole thing worse, it's blistering up again, it might drop off. My head is NOT being my friend! Then I realise my rhythm has gone, the run has become a struggle, a chore. Where are my whales and dolphins?! Heartbroken, mourning the loss of my awesome run, I struggle on. I do have an internal chuckle at the idea that I am running more now so that I have less to walk later. I end up walking the last half mile back to the car. 

Talk about highs and lows! I just wonder how much each problem was aggravated, or not, by how my head dealt with it. We know there is evidence that a person's experience of pain is aggravated by how they choose to approach it. I guess the associations I had with each issue were different and so I was impacted positively for the first (I can deal with this) and negatively for the second (this is a real problem that could get worse and I am powerless to stop it). It was like CBT in action! Physical, thought, mood, behaviour... that order.

NOW, how about the possibility that if I think really positively about it, and visualise a super-healthy toe, perhaps that will make it happen?! Ok, that's a bit outside 'evidence-based' for me, but it's a nice thought! I'd certainly like to investigate the psychology of running more though. I bet there's loads of tips I could use in training.

Til next time!

Sue

The sweet smell of... surgical spirit?

In an attempt to sort out my grim feet, and at least try and be able to get a longer run in before Scunthorpe half marathon next sunday, I am under strict instructions from my running buddy to cream and surgical spirit me feet on a daily basis. I am beginning to wonder if I am ever going to get the smell of surgical spirit out of my nostrils! I would like to illustrate if these methods work or not though, so am resigned to continuing, smell or not.

In other news, I am going running with my cousin later, who is new to running (being an amazingly natural swimmer). Coincidentally in a triathlon magazine I bought yesterday are some great running drills that are going to make me look like I work at the Ministry of Silly Walk(er)s, but hopefully she won't mind and it will distract her from feeling massively unfit (let's face it, we all felt like that when we first started running, no matter what other fitness we had done before!).

Anyone reading this who has any tips on foot care, please feel free to let me know!

TTFN,

Sue

Running updates OR how to ruin your feet

SO, last year I was a bit lame (Lazy, not limping). I did  Southwell sprint triathlon, Foremarke Hall Triathlon and the run section of the Castle Howard olympic distance team relay. Now I'm thinking about it I'm like "Gaa... is this all I did last year?!". I think it is. Massive lame points! Anyway, new year, new start. Lots has been happening. Firstly, you will be pleased to know that my bike and I are reconciled and are good mates again :-) We had to suck it up and get over it for Southwell, and we did:

Cheers to Aidy for the quality photo just after the bike mount. 

FYI, if you don't like pictures of minging feet don't scroll down!

In other news, I have stupidly signed up for The Vitruvian this year, which is half ironman or middle distance. It felt like this was a bit of a leap from sprint distance, so I also signed up for the Dambuster, which is the olympic distance at the same place (the beautiful Rutland Water) a couple of months before. I was caught up in the excitement of my friend doing the Vit last year, which I marshalled for. Amazing atmosphere and good vibes all over the shop. This lead to some serious thought about  how I was going to tackle the open water section (of 1.9km!). There was no dodging it, I had to get my head around front crawl. I'd blagged my way through the indoor pool sprints with breast stroke, but it just wasn't going to cut the mustard for open water. Luckily, winter is a good time to swim seeing as often running and cycling outside become difficult, so I prioritised swimming (getting into a routine of twice or three times a week). I considered a couple of sessions with a swim coach, and got a list of 6 or 7 registered with my local pool. Whilst thinking about this, I ended up speaking to one of the coaches whilst I was in the pool one day. She told me not to pay for any sessions as I could already swim front crawl. I just needed my technique tweaking. She gave me a few different tips, one particularly about breathing, which really helped (thanks Bev!). I went from feeling exhausted, gasping for breath and stopping after two lengths, feeling unable to carry on, to being able to swim in a maintainable rhythm. Credit to Jonny too for being a good swim drill master! I still find it hard to see what I would be able to achieve distance wise, as I have fallen into that black hole of being too fast for the slow lane and a bit slow the fast lane (there are only two lanes!) and swim etiquette dictates I hold off at the end of the length to let the faster person pass. The pool misrepresents open water anyway. Having swum outside in a wetsuit (in the docks!) I'm fully aware it will feel like I may be starting all over again when I start open water practice (starting 1st of May, exciting!). I think I need to get a wetsuit more suited to swimming too, as mine feels too restrictive in the shoulders. But yeah, I need to get some events in, otherwise all that swim practice will have gone to waste! 

Running has been fine, thanks to born-again runner Fran. She's come back from a fractured leg even more eager than she was before! Together we've cracked a half marathon (with another due next weekend) and a sub-hour 10km (in Lincoln, which was one Fran had always had an eye on to do, so it was nice to do it there). We do laugh about her being naturally being suited to running, which she is, and me naturally NOT being, which I'm not! We went for a sports massage where the masseuse found knots in my muscles everywhere, causing me to squeal like a stuck pig, whereas Fran was zen personified, practically glowing (with smugness!) The evidence is also on my feet (see photos! They are grim!) which seem to gradually being worn away/dropping off as demonstrated below (to save Facebook friends from being subjected to it!) The weird thing is looking at these photos and not even thinking about stopping running! This is the new normal for my feet!

So next stop biking (had one bash on the new clip in shoes but since then gale force winds have stopped play!) which is going to involve a new bike as soon as work pulls their finger out on the bike to work scheme ! I'll leave you for now with some revolting toe photos. Please feel free NOT to continue looking :) catch you next time!

Big toe left foot, been black since a blood blister from Lincoln 10km over a week ago. Also showing here how my big toe rubs my second toe (can just see around the nail)

Little toe left foot. Both little toes regularly "shed" usually like a snake, all at once. This uppermost bit of this is quite sore where it tapers back into live skin. Also it looks red in the centre because a new blood blister was popping up after tonights attempt at 13.1 miles (had to be stopped because of this toe)

Right foot, had that black spot for a while. Rubbed a bit on the side of the big toe. Main issue here is big toe rubbing skin off the second toe...

...which can be seen more clearly here.

Little toe on right foot looking close to 'shedding'

little toe and next toe rubbage on right foot.

Positive mental attitude (or personifying your bike)

Ok, it's been a while, but then things did go a little downhill (literally) for me after Lincoln Tri. As I mentioned, I didn't particularly enjoy it. I did get that sense of achievement and satisfaction at finishing, but it wasn't the same as Woodhall. The run particularly was pretty harsh... laps up and down a canal tow path. It wasn't harsh physically, it was flat and straightforward, but mentally it was bad news! The up and down system meant often people running towards you were ahead of you, which felt crap! Also, you had to run past the finish line at the halfway point, head away from it and come back. That felt even worse! Anyway, job done, new bike time.

I'd realised I wasn't going to get a bike in time for Lincoln so I started calming the frenzied way in which I frantically searched eBay. I finally found a bike the same model as my old one, for pretty much the same price after paying for it to be couriered up from dahn sarf. 'Fab' I thought 'Crack on'. I'd missed being able to just go out on my bike when I fancied it, and as soon as I could went for an introductory mooch. I hadn't gone far when I became aware that the mudguard (to be removed anyway in due course) was chafing the tyre very slightly. 'Not good' I thought, and resolved to turn around and head home (barely two mins into the ride) to get it off. No sooner had I turned around and started back than the whole thing caught completely, bending the metal that supported the mudguard and ramming the whole thing between the forks and down onto the tyre thusly:

This obviously caused the front wheel to stop VERY abruptly, and the back lifted up, propelling me forward over the handle bars. In all honesty, as dramatic as this sounds, I remember it as more being forced to stumble forward and falling forward rather than literally being thrown into the air. It must have LOOKED pretty dramatic though, because a dog walker immediately came to my assistance, as did 3 car drivers who stopped in the middle of the road to come and see if I was ok. They may have mistaken my inert form (having chosen to take a minute to stay down and mentally check body parts before trying to move anything) as a sign of potential unconsciousness, but at this point the only thing that was hurt was my ego. I felt a proper pillock and quickly assured everyone I was fine before saying no I don't need a life I only live up the road and began to walk away quickly (with the front wheel of my bike lifted off the ground). It was only later that the damage became apparent, and then it was only superficial bruising. The main impact was on my confidence. I wasn’t happy going out on the bike now... I associated the problem with that bike specifically and pined for my stolen one. And now it was very bruised and battered, even after my housemate kindly got it serviced for free for me. I avoided going out on it, even though as soon as I got home from tipping off I found the first implement I could (a knife) to remove the offending mudguard (this made me think of Alan Rickman in Prince of Thieves... ‘I’m gonna cut your heart out with a SPOON!’). I wanted to hurt that bloody bike! Never mind a screwdriver, mutilation felt better! I started viewing it as an enemy. It didn’t like me and I didn’t like it. We tried to make sure our paths didn’t cross. On the one occasion I DID try to challenge this, I got a flat just before I got back from the ride. In true anxiety style I interpreted this as confirmation that I was ‘right’ in my feelings about the bike and it had been trying to tip me off again. I developed worries about going at any decent speed on it (kind of the point when taking part in triathlons!) to the point where when I did Beverley triathlon in August I started convincing myself on the way back from the bike route that I had a flat, and slowed down to bounce around and check it, which no doubt influenced my time. Anyway, I finally faced my anxiety about it, challenged my tendency to personify my bike (it doesn’t like me/has it in for me) and have been telling myself off for blaming my tools. It’s tempting to say my bike and I are now friends again, but that would be just going down the same route (and opening up the option of ‘falling out’ again). It’s a bike. The end.