Trying to train; training to tri

The two month gap since my last post reflects a lack of blog-worthy activity as I  have been traversing that competition-free void referred to by bonafide triathletes as "an off-season”. This is a novel concept to me since previously, as a runner, I never really observed a seasonal pattern of competing and so to have an end of season break seemed both indulgent, excessive and unnecessary. Unlike elite level athletes, my year has never been defined by two distinct seasons – cross country in winter, track in summer – and so I, like the majority of club runners, have dabbled in different events all year round. Following my first year in triathlon, I now totally get the need for an end of season break!

Training over three different disciplines at a fairly high intensity is bloody tiring! When I was running at my peak in 2011 / 2012 and in the throws of marathon training, a typical training week would involve hitting a mileage of 50 – 60 miles a week, over 6 days of running, with a gym session once or sometimes twice a week, and either a complete rest day or a very easy swim (we are talking 40 lengths of slow breaststroke here!) every seventh day. I very rarely did double-up days, only the one or two days in which I did my cross training and gym work, and on those days the run would be a short, recovery style affair on the treadmill immediately after my session. This fitted in with my lifestyle at the time, as I was working as matron at Sherborne School and I only had 2pm – 5pm off duty each day, 6 days a week, so this was the only time I had available in which I could leave the school grounds to train. Morning and evening runs were impossible.

As a triathlete, my average training week is a LOT different. Double-up days are the norm, as this is the only way in which you can possibly fit in the required training in order to improve your performance in all three sports. If I was doing double runs multiple days a week, my legs just wouldn't hack it. Injuries would kick in within a matter of weeks as my calves couldn't take the pounding. However, because my training is being spread over three very different sports – four, if you include the time I also spend on the cross-trainer – no particular muscle groups are taking all of the stress. When I am swimming, my legs are getting a rest and an active recovery due to the massaging effects of the water. On the bike, my upper legs are taking the strain, allowing the calves to play a more passive role, whereas on running days, they take centre stage. In total, I am running 4 days a week, with a weekly mileage of no more than 20 miles, swimming 3 days a week on average (sometimes 4, time permitting), averaging 6000 meters a week, and cycling, well, cycling varies massively between summer and winter. In summer I would cycle at least 4 days a week, possibly 5, averaging 100 miles a week. In winter that drastically falls away as commuting to work in the dark, down dodgy, narrow lanes is not something I enjoy, and so my mileage is down to about 30 miles per week, mostly done on my spin bike in the warmth of home! I'm not too worried about the drop off in bike miles though as I know I can pick that up again in the spring and it doesn't take me long to get “bike fit”. So, no one particular body part is being over-taxed, but my body as a whole is having questions asked of it in some form on a twice-daily basis. I now only indulge in one complete rest day every two weeks, and this is usually due to other commitments preventing me from training. What I have noticed though is how all of this leaves me much more tired. I need a lot more sleep than I did when I was only running, and my body aches in many and manifold places. I also have a voracious appetite which I will have to watch if I ever stop training as I will balloon!

The other fairly recent addition to my weekly training schedule is yoga. I know, I know! I have not exactly tried to conceal my scepticism of this activity, and don't worry, I am not about to become a converted stereotype and buy myself some tie-dye pants, a baggy vest top with an oversized elephant on it, book flights to India and head off on some soul-searching quest for inner peace in a Buddhist monastery in the mountains! No, we are a long way from that level of yogic enlightenment my friends. However, I can recognise the benefits of it for strengthening the body to make it more resilient and for stretching the muscles to make them more supple and less likely to incur injury. I struggle to adapt both my body and mind to the slow, chilled-out ways of proper, hard-core yoga though, and so I have found the session that suits me best is the Les Mills branded 'Body Balance' class. Body Balance is a mixture of tai chi, yoga and pilates and it suits me because it is a flowing, fast paced class that sees you progressing quickly from one move or pose to the next, and this prevents me from getting bored. It's also choreographed to decent music (Jarryd James' 'Do You Remember' is one of the songs on the current programme and it's sublime!), and this serves as a good distraction from the discomfort. If I am forced to stand in silence in 'Warrior 2' for ten minutes, focussing on my breathing, I rapidly lose interest and am unlikely to book in again for further yogic pleasures. When you're stood there in 'Sun Warrior' whilst trying to figure out how you can surreptitiously glance at your watch to see how much more of this you have to endure without fear of the instructor noticing and being offended, you pretty much know that you are no yoga purist. The purists wouldn't even wear a watch! I guess what I am saying is, I will take the physiological benefits that yoga offers but I will not be rushing to sign up to the accompanying lifestyle thank you very much. Peace for me is basking in that satisfying after glow of a hard workout or a race, knowing that I have put my body through hell, asking it to perform at its peak, and knowing that I could not have given any more; it is not sitting cross-legged for two hours in a silent room trying to channel my “inner chi” (not even sure that I have one....). But each to their own and respect to those who do have the zen-like patience necessary in order to nail it. Namaste and all that jazz.

Swimming-wise, I couldn't be happier. I have to keep reminding myself that little over a year ago, I couldn't swim more than 4 lengths of consecutive front crawl without having to grab hold of the poolside at the end, gasping and wheezing and confronting the very real possibility of having a sports induced asthma attack, culminating in the lifeguard hauling me bodily out of the pool by the lycra of my swimsuit. Maybe a slight exaggeration, but I was no water baby and swimming did not come easily to me. I had swum as a child and endured the swim gala circuit – you know the one kids, where your parents make you go, usually at night when you'd far rather be at home playing with your Lego, you get in, warm up, then sit around shivering to death on the freezing poolside for the best part of an hour waiting for your turn to swim your one length; meanwhile, your parents are sat with the other parents, sipping away at their polystyrene cups of vending machine Kenco coffee, jostling for pole parental position at the perspex viewing window, dotingly looking on in support. My memories of childhood swimming are not the best – they have subsequently been filed away in the same draw of sporting horrors as the 'being made to run laps of a freezing, snow covered rugby pitch in January clad only in briefs and a crop top' file – and, as an adult, the sport didn't have much allure. The chlorine used to aggravate my eczema, so, for well over a decade, I didn't swim at all. Then I got anorexic and forced myself to do it as just another weapon in my armament of self-punishment. Nope, me and swimming have historically not been the greatest of bedfellows.

When I was running high mileage at Sherborne, I conceded that swimming was a good way to loosen off the muscles on my recovery day and, at Sherborne, staff swam in the school pool for free, usually having it all to myself, but I never ventured beyond breaststroke and I didn't particularly enjoy it. Then, one day, last autumn, I was given my most valuable piece of swim advice ever by a lady who coaches juniors at Exmouth pool: slow down to speed up. Unlike with cycling or running, the faster you try to swim, the more your technique and breathing go out the window and, ironically, the slower you get. One day, in a determined fashion, I headed to the pool with the mindset of no matter how slowly I had to go, I would not break into breaststroke. I did 5 very slow lengths of front crawl, I was gasping for air and it felt hard, but I challenged myself to another 5. Then another 5. Then, after 15 lengths, something weird happened: I relaxed, and it suddenly felt so much easier. I swam 60 lengths of front crawl that session, in November 2014, having never swum more than 4 in a row previously. It took me the best part of 40 minutes, but I did it, without stopping for a rest. Since then, I have not looked back, nor reverted back, to breaststroke. I now regularly swim 100 lengths and only stop then because boredom usually kicks in at that point. My 60 length (1500m) time has gone from just under 40 minutes to just under 30. My 400m time a year ago was well over 9 minutes; last week I managed a 7:04 400m split at tri club. I love swimming because I am seeing progress in it and because on a good day, when you get it right, you feel like a fish and it's just the best feeling.

It must be stressed that much of my recent improvement has been as a result of joining the N1 tri club this summer. Having a weekly structured session, with input from top coaches on technique, focussed drills and pacing has helped me tremendously. When I joined N1, my 400m was knocking on the door of 8 minutes, but it was starting to plateau as I was just doing the same dull sessions, with nobody to advise me. The one minute I have shaved off in a couple of months is all due to the input I've had at the club, so I am extremely grateful that I attended the duathlon at Westpoint in the summer and met Dennis and Liz Elliot, and that they welcomed this enthusiastic but semi-clueless triathlon newbie into their club and have helped and supported me no end ever since! Thanks guys!

A Thursday night club session at Honiton pool with N1. I am centre of shot, middle lane, just approaching the end of the length. Go team lane 3!!!

The other task I face over the winter is planning my 2016 season. Again, this is another alien concept, planning and entering events so far in advance. I would normally shy away from this through fear of getting injured and not being able to compete and losing yet more money in entry fees, but, with triathlons, you need to have a clear plan as this will influence and guide the structure of your training throughout winter. I have definitely decided that I want to concentrate on the Olympic (standard) distance next year. This involves a 1500m swim, a 40km bike and a 10km run. I love a good sprint tri, but the short length of the run (5k), doesn't give me enough opportunity to play to my strength as a runner and to make up the ground I've lost on the swim and the bike. Over the next couple of weeks I need to decide which events I'm going to target and think about entering them as, due to the increasing popularity of triathlon as a sport, they WILL sell out very early. In the meantime, it's head down and keep trying to train and training to tri!

Ellie.....t

I recall that before skedaddling off on honeymoon, I promised to blog about my first open water tri experience in the Cotswolds. It's hard to write about an event after a month has elapsed as most of the emotions experienced have dissipated somewhat. Then again, maybe that's no bad thing as at least it should make for a shorter read than my usual tomes as I struggle to remember all the minutiae details. Phew, I hear you gasp!

Due to the early morning nature of these events, this one, held at the Cotswold Water Park near Cirencester, warranted an overnight stay beforehand. Matt was otherwise occupied with football – it's ok, I knew and accepted that my triathloning could never compete with Exeter City FC when I married him! - and so my other supporter in chief, good old Mum, stepped into the breach. As my parents' car is a massive Peugeot estate, we opted to hustle Canondale and the rest of my kit into the back of that and we headed off up the M5.

I registered on the Saturday and the organisers were running a free one hour seminar to help participants familiarise themselves with the swim route, the transition area and run course, in addition to providing tips on a speedy transition.... hmm, in retrospect I should have paid more attention to this latter part.

We spent the night at the delightful 'Travelodge M4 East, Delamere'. The least said about that the better, aside from to mention that if you ever stay here, make sure you double check that the receptionist has successfully inputted your car registration number into the computer when you check in, otherwise you could be in for a nasty surprise in the post a week later in the form of a £60 parking fine. (It's ok, we appealed, they admitted the error and the fine was then waived).

After not the best night's sleep, the alarm sounded at 5am and I was up and launching myself at the kettle to start getting the caffeine into my sleep-deprived system. The drive to the water park was 40 miles and into the most amazing sunrise ever. There was a low, eerie mist hanging over the fields, a rich, fiery orange ball rising behind, and it all felt almost perfect.... I say almost; the temperature on the car thermometer read 3 degrees! In 2 hours time I would be immersing myself in a freezing cold lake, exiting it soaking wet and then cycling at 20mph into an icy wind resistance. I don't do cold. Dilemma: to spend longer faffing in T1 and put a base layer on after the swim, or to suck it up and accept the cold and work through it? My sensible head said the former, my racing head said the latter. My racing head won.

This was my first time starting on an "elite" start. I know – hilarious right?! It's taken me 5 years of trying to make an elite start as a runner and, whether due to injury or ineptitude, I've never quite managed it, but after my first tri season, having merely done a grand total of 3 of the things before this one, here I was, having somehow fumbled my way in through the back door! (I was in fact given the option to start as elite due to placing 2nd at the Oxley tri, which is an official BTF event and I think the organisers were keen to encourage new "talent"). So off I went to the far end of transition to rack at number 8. Numbers 1-5 were elite men and 6 – 10 elite women. As it was, some of the women originally entered as elites opted to change to age group athletes at registration as this was the South West regional sprint championships and you had to be entered as an amateur age-grouper in order to be eligible for prizes in that. This left a small but select elite field and lots of room on the racks for bikes and kit, which was good. It also meant I got a good chance to geg at the kit of my fellow elite competitors, which was bad. Put it this way, I was sure as hell the only lady on the elite start riding without cleats on the bike!

The ground was icy cold underfoot.

First shock was upon removing my shoes to get changed into my wetsuit: the ground was freezing (not just metaphorically, but literally frozen solid). My trainers were now in transition and my flip-flops had been left in the car, parked a good 15 minute walk away. Doh. I decided to stand in the water until the start time as it was warmer than the dry land! Even so, a water temperature of 15 degrees was not exactly what I'd call tropical and I so I opted for a good warm up to allow the shock of the cold water on my face to subside before the gun went off.

Mum - supporter extraordinaire and chief wetsuit zipper-upper.

Warmer to await the start in the water than out! (I'm the one waving btw).

Elites started in the very first wave at 8am. The water was stunning; crystal clear so you could see right down to the bottom. Some bits were shallow, some deep, but it was flat as a pancake on the surface and the perfect conditions to swim in. My swim is still comparatively my weakest of the three phases. It's rapidly improving, but I am no speed merchant. My strength lies in my stamina, being able to pick a decent pace and keep churning it out, rather than in going out all guns blazing for a short time. Next year I aim to move up the distances to Olympic and Half Ironman, which I feel will suit me better, but, for now, I covered the 750m in a sedate 15:25. Considering I managed 17:57 for a 1km sea swim in the choppy, murky waters of the English Channel only one week before, this was disappointing. I can only think it was due to the coldness of the water temp here that affected my sports asthma. Excuses aside, the first elite female was a whole third quicker in just over 10 minutes! Pff.

Swim start. I'm the one in the black wetsuit and green cap... ;-)

A particularly steep and slippery exit from the water.

The fun starts: trying to shed my wetsuit on route to T1 didn't happen.

T1: a bloody fiasco! My hands were so cold from the water that they couldn't function. I got the right leg of my wetsuit off easily enough, but my left – which had the added challenge of getting over the lumpy timing chip – was a disaster. I nearly fell over twice, I pounded a load of grit and dirt into the suit... I swore a lot. It was generally embarrassing. Other athletes were coming in and out and I was still there, in the elite section to add to the humiliation, squirming about like some inebriated lizard trying to shed its skin. It felt like an eternity – I was almost contemplating having a picnic – but in reality, all of this took just under two minutes. Nevertheless, I still gave away over a minute to the other elite females, who either didn't suffer from the cold as much as I did, or else were better rehearsed in the art of deshedding.

Finally free from the wetsuit and off to start the 20km bike.

The bike was brilliant. Loved it! A mostly flat course on very quiet, straight, wide and pothole-free roads, that enabled me to get onto the tri bars, get my head down and work like stink. I didn't see another competitor riding in their running trainers, but I overtook a load and wasn't getting overtaken myself, so I figured I wasn't doing too badly. At the Oxley I averaged 18.5mph on a hilly course and managed to better that here by averaging 20mph and coming in at 35 minutes.

A great bike course, not too technical, could get your head down and work work work!

T2 was a much slicker affair, but then it should be, given that I only needed to dump a bike and helmet and not change shoes, and I was off on the scenic two laps of the lake run course. Familiar territory now, just 5k to run. My feet felt numb from the cold when I started running; a weird sensation to be hitting the ground and yet feeling a total disconnect from it. I soon established a rhythm and started to pick off lots of runners in front of me. My run time of 19:14 was the second fastest by a female for the day, so chuffed with that.

Just completing lap one of the 5km run around the lake.

However, the deficit created by my poor swim and T1 was too great to make up, and I remained in 3rd place in the elite female category and 14th female overall, once the age groupers were thrown into the mix, with an overall finish time of 1:12:38. Not bad for my first attempt at an open water tri. Practice at getting out of the wetsuit will buy me a minute, which would have moved me up into the top ten, and finding 3 minutes on the swim would have given me second overall. That's not including what I think can come on the bike once I actually take the plunge and sort these ruddy cleats out! The winning female was in a league of her own – she was over 8 minutes clear of the second lady and placed 10th overall, out of 468 competitors. Her time of 1:00:04 is on the cusp of being “elite elite”, i.e., Non Stanford, Vicky Holland, Jodie Stimpson kind of elite, not the “Ellie Dominey, punching above her weight” kind! ;-)

The finish funnel - had just worked like stink to overtake the GB age group athlete behind me on the run!

It was a great weekend and I definitely chose a good event for my first open water experience. The organisation was so slick, the whole thing was wrapped up and packed away by 11am! 468 cometitors in a multi-wave start all completed by mid morning, that's impressive. As a bonus, for placing 3rd “elite”, I won a trophy, 4 new sets of Specialized performance tyres, and a cheque for £100. Had some of the age groupers braved the elite start, that money could have been theirs, but they didn't, I did, and it paid nicely for the Travelodge thank you! ...Mind you, I might have also offset some of it against a new toy (see below). Well, if I am going to be taking this triathlon lark a little more seriously next year, I need the appropriate kit to do myself justice, right?! ;-)

5 imposing GB athletes and little old me on'th'end!

Good prize haul!

And a new toy to round off a good weekend. :-)

A change is as good as a rest?

I am writing this as my first season of being a “triathlete” draws to a close. I'm not going to lie, it was my endless string of lower left leg injuries that prompted the move into multi-sport. As I tried desperately to maintain fitness using other, non-impacting training methods (swimming, cycling), I found that I actually quite like the freedom of being out on the bike, being able to cover distances four times quicker than I could running, and I have definitely liked seeing my progress in the pool, setting PBs in time trials on an almost weekly basis; it has evoked some of the same excited emotions I used to experience in those early days of running when every run would be a PB! Last summer I was forced to rest for 2 months with a postior tibial tendon injury. I did rest and I lost a ton of fitness, making it a very hard and slow process to regain the fitness when I did start back. Then, just as I was starting to sharpen up, I got glandular fever in November last year and that set me back some more. Just starting to get over that after months of feeling flat and my left achillies started to act up again. It's been a frustrating 12 months.

This time round, I decided to use the enforced rest time from running to really work on further improving my swim and on increasing my mileage on the bike. It was only last October that I found myself able to swim an entire session of front crawl without an alternate breaststroke recovery length or without needing to grab at the poolside in a gasping, wheezing desperation for oxygen. Swimming definitely does not come naturally to me and it's a discipline I've really had to work at. Initial progress was slow, but, these past few months, I have noticed a real improvement and I am almost starting to look and feel like someone who belongs in the water rather than an erroneous land-loving mammal who has accidentally fallen overboard and is flapping about in panic in attempt to regain dry land.

Enough! I digress! This summer, fed up of having to head to the hated gym in attempt to retain a modicum of fitness, I have got out on my bike, got in the pool and signed up for some different events to keep me motivated to train and stay fit. I have competed in three triathlons (two pool based, one open water), one duathlon (run – bike – run), two cycle sportives of 66 and 54 miles respectively, and one 1km sea swim in a choppy, murky English Channel. If a change is as good as a rest, as they indeed say, then mentally my mind is refreshed and physically, my injury is well rested.... I have though acquired a whole new set of injuries, such as a pain in my right glute from the bike, but hey, as least it's giving my lower left leg a time-out!

I have written about the two pool based tris in previous posts, so I won't bore you with more talk of those. So, to the duathlon. One Sunday morning, Matt and I had gone for our Sunday morning swim at Sidmouth pool and, on leaving, Matt noticed a sign on the noticeboard advertising the 'N1 Westpoint Summer Duathlon Series'. I had seen the name 'N1' on the swimming timetables for Honiton and Sidmouth pools and knew they were an East Devon based triathlon club. Last year I briefly joined the Exeter tri club but their swim sessions didn't really work for me, so I didn't renew my membership in March and decided to go it alone. The poster said that these summer duathlons, held over four weeks, on a Wednesday evening throughout summer, were open to non-N1 members and were only £3 to enter. There was one coming up the coming Wednesday, so I decided to give it a go.

They are held at Westpoint driving circuit (you tube the 'Chris Boardman cycling two abreast safety video: it's fimled at Westpoint!). This is hired by N1 each Wednesday evening in summer and is a safe, traffic free mock-up of a road network and a great place to practice bike handling skills, riding in groups, drafting, cornering at speed, and a great location for a duathlon. With Gary Parett of Axe Valley Runners and Grizzly fame at the helm, the duathlons are superbly well organised with chip timing! Each circuit is half a mile. You run 3 circuits, bike 12, run 1.5 circuits, finish. As fast s you can! The course is not flat, it's basically a square with one side being uphill, the next being flat, the next downhill and the next flat. There are sharp bends on each of the corners. The first time I approached a corner on the bike section, I totally misjudged it, went wide, and nearly took out a runner who was coming the way! Bike handling skills could use a bit of improvement... Over the course of the 12 laps though, I started to get a feel for the turns and when to brake, when to coast etc, and my lap times got quicker. My second run – off the bike – went surprisingly well and I posted the 3rd fastest time overall for it, having only been the 5th fastest for the first run on fresh legs. Who needs brick training?! My transitions were the quickest of anyone as I was the only person not switching to cleats for the bike! Finish position was 5th overall with a 10:27 first run, 19:21 bike, 4:52 second run. It was great fun, with a low-key friendly atmosphere and a great event to give duathlon a go. It also enabled me to have a chat with Dennis and Liz Elliot from N1 tri club about hooking up with them. They were extremely friendly and helpful and offered for me to try a couple of their swim sessions and see how I found them first, with the option to join after. A productive evening all round!

Westpoint Duthlon. Thanks to Dennis Elliot who took all apart from the above picture.

Next up, two cycle sportives. My sister-in-law, Caroline, had entered me into the 66 mile Jurassic Classic sportive as a birthday present. It was on Sunday 16th August. Sportives are not races and are billed as being non-competitive, but, for those of a competitive mindset (i.e., me!), they do publish “standards” for the course that take into account the distance and elevation, and so you have something to measure yourself against. For a senior female, to get the 'gold' standard at the Jurassic you had to average over 16.9mph, which icludes time spent at fuelling and, er, defueling stations. I was entered into the standard distance which has over 4000ft of climb, so I figured that aiming for silver would be a realistic ask. The hills come thick and fast in the opening half of the ride: Peak Hill, followed by the absolutely horrendous Salcombe Hill, followed by Branscombe Hill, then the long drag up to the top of Gittisham Hill. I had to abandon Canondale on both Salcombe and Branscombe Hills as the gradient was too sharp; I simply ran out of gears and ground to a halt! Ever aware of that silver medal slipping away, in my wisdom I decided to run up the hills, pushing the bike, and I overtook quite a lot of men who were determined to cycle! No time to stop at the first aid station in Gittisham, on on to the next! By the next, in Aylesbeare, I was bursting for the loo, so had no choice. I sprinted in, did the necessary, and sprinted out, grabbing a piece of flapjack as I passed the ladies behind the counter serving tea and cakes who looked on at me incredulously. I found out from another participant after that the were also serving pasties and tea in china cups: I hadn't even noticed! I wanted the silver medal more than I wanted a pasty!!

For several miles, I had been playing cat and mouse with a guy who was also doing the standard distance. He seemed to like my company and would drop back to wait for me after the descents, as he was quicker on those, and he would work like stink to try and stick with me on the ascents, which he couldn't always, so I'd then feel obliged to wait for him at the top. It was nice to pass a bit of time and have a natter, but, after a while, I found myself getting a bit annoyed at being obligated to ride with someone. I had my goal set on that silver medal and this man was messing with my pacing strategy! I then found myself wondering if that made me a ruthless, over-competitive, horrible person. I then began to question whether I was actually enjoying this cycle ride in the beautiful countryside of Devon, or whether I wasn't allowing myself to enjoy it because I was GO GO GO!! the whole way, being so Goddamn driven and focussed. Was I doing it for the fun? No, not really. I was doing it for the training benefits. I then began to question my whole attitude to sport. I entered two sportives to make me do a longer ride than if I were just heading out the door by myself. I always have to have a purpose to get me out and training and that purpose is usually to get fit for racing. In truth, I'm not too sure that I really enjoy exercising to the extent I do all that much! If I was doing it just for fun, I would have chosen the easier, flatter 33 mile option... or I'd have stayed in and watched cycling on the telly! In truth, I think pushing myself to do all the exercise I did in my teenage years has pretty much set the stall for how I approach it: it's something I do for self-improvement, not for the love of it!

Anyway, enough of the amateur self-psychology. I eventually ditched that poor chap, who was lovely but whose innate chatter had become too much for me and my craving for solitude and focus, and I managed to finish the whole thing in a time of 4h19m, 20 minutes inside the time for the silver medal! Horray! When I heard everyone animatedly talking about their experiences after and they said what a great time they'd had, taking photos en route, drinking tea in china cups, I did feel a bit sad that I am seemingly incapable of allowing myself to take this relaxed approach, but then I looked down at the silver medal round my neck and that somewhat made up for it. Besides, I have tea at home. And china cups to drink the stuff out of.

The one thing this approach did have against it is that it pretty much wiped me out for the rest of the week. I was sleeping loads, tired out, struggling to focus at work, and struggling to do any meaningful training for several days after due to physical exhaustion. My first reaction was to think I am a total wimp as there were much older, less fit, ladies doing that ride who came off it perfectly fine, but then my rational self was eventually able to see that they probably didn't push themselves as hard as I did: I'm pretty certain I was the only lunatic running with their bike up Salcombe Hill! My hell-for-leather, all-or-nothing personality does deliver results, but sometimes those results come at a price, in this case, leaving me drained and knackered!

The Exmouth Exterminator ride then came just that little bit too early, a mere 6 days later. I wasn't ready for it, physically or mentally. I had given everything the previous week and just couldn't get fired up for this one. Furthermore, the standard distance on this was 76 miles and 5000ft of height gain! 10 miles and 1000ft more than the previous week, which had left me a wreck! On the start line they offered you the option to change up or down a distance if you were feeling good / bad and I was bloody grateful! Not like me to shy away from a challenge I've signed up for, but even the short course on the Exterminator is 54 miles, so that would be enough for today thank you! I somehow managed to come away with the gold standard on this one as they standards were much softer – only 14.5mph average needed this time, so upgraded to gold but with a slightly slower average time than the week before.

By now I had joined the N1 tri club who are simply fantastic! I have enjoyed some amazing swim training sessions at Honiton pool and they have also given me the kick up the pants and the confidence needed to start sea swimming. Lakes, no problem, but I am not a lover of the sea surrounding the British Isles: cold, murky, jelly-fish riddled and often rough, it has never really appealed. That said, the first sea swim I did with the club, at Sidmouth was flat calm and it was a beautiful sunny evening. I was looked after expertly well by Dennis, the club chairman, who seemed to be more perceptive than I was at detecting that I was stiff as a board and needed to relax more. He taught me how to draught off another swimmer and, all in all, my first sea swim in the UK was a great experience. Not a jelly fish in sight! One sea swim done = one sea swim race entered that very night (you are now beginning to see how my mind works I think...).

The Geoswim took place at Goodrington Sands, near Paignton. They had 1km, 3km and 5km distances on offer. Just the 1km for me; best not to bite off more than I can chew. One thing doing so in a run or bike race when you can just stop, but it's not so easy when you're out of your depths in the open ocean to just call it a day. The race started on the beach with a mad charge into the sea, there was a lot of wading in shallow water before taking the plunge and starting the swim. First stride, first gob full of water. In fact, I swallowed what certainly felt like half the contents of the English Channel in the opening few meters. I like to breathe to my left; the waves were coming from my left. Different strategy needed. Suddenly aware of loads of other swimmers passing me whilst I coughed, spat out salt water, doubted why I thought I was ready for this after only having swum in the sea twice. “Gees, this is going really bad”. Couldn't even resort to trusty breaststoke as your legs are too buoyant in the wetsuit and so a breastroke leg kick is totally ineffectual. Can I give up and turn back? Oh, shit, I've only swum about 5 meters. Nope, press on. Don't be a total embarrassment. I evntually found my rhythm, but it took a while, and I still wasn't much enjoying it. The waves were quite big and I was actually starting to feel a bit dizzy and sick with the motion! Only I could get sea sick swimming! At long bloody last, I can touch the bottom again. Wade in. Start running up the beach. Oooh, catching the guy in front, charge! Just got him. Cross the line. Get handed the prize for 3rd lady. SAY WHAT?! Are you sure? What happened to the others? Did they drown? Did they take a wrong turn and end up in France? 3Rd lady – too funny! It felt like a truly abysmal performance, though the watch did say 17:57 for 1km, but I think some of that was waded and not swum as the tide was quite far out!

The initial mad charge into the sea. I am the 4th visible athlete from left.

The sprint up the beach after the swim and a chance to make up some ground!

3rd lady?! Say what?!! Haha, too funny! (Yes, that is a steam train behind me!)

It did, however, give me confidence going into my last event of my first season as a mutli-sport athlete.... the Cotswold Spint Triathlon. This one deserves its own blog post and, besides, I think I've bored you stupid enough for one day with this epic! That one will have to wait a couple of weeks however, as tomorrow morning we fly to Iceland for our honeymoon :-) A change is often as good as a rest, but, sometimes, you also just need a rest! My body is physically tired. We had mooted the idea of doing Yeovilton 5km tonight on our way up to Heathrow, but I've woken up with a sore throat and generally feeling achey and under the weather. It's been a long season of tri-ing new things and it takes the body a while to adapt. Although I have been resting my leg and not doing as much running (15 miles per week max), I have been training over three different disciplines, plus the usual strength and core stuff. I have started doing an early morning swim before work, in addition to commuting to work and back by bike and/or doing an after work run. It's been quite a jump up in volume and your body will only put up with it for so long before it starts giving off warning signs. (NB. The fact that I've picked up on this is progress, as I do somewhat have a habit of running myself into the ground then falling apart spectacularly!) Well, signs heeded, honeymoon booked, resting whilst sipping wine in thermally heated mountain springs, about to happen! Iceland here we come!

New experiences in multi-sport this summer. Had a great time and learned a lot. A rest, followed by a hard winter's training, and who knows what next year will bring. On on!

Second second of the season!

On Sunday 9th August I had a not too pleasant 5:30am wake-up call to drive to Dorset to take part in the Sherborne Oxley Sprint Tri. Now, I am infamously not a lover of early mornings, which doesn't really sit all that well with my new hobby as triathlons tend to be crack of dawn affairs involving a fair bit of travelling to get to them. Hauling my backside out of bed to form the diligent habit of doing an early morning swim before work has been a sufficient shock to my delicate, sleep-loving system these past few months!

This was my second tri of the season and my third bash at the swim-bike-run combo in total, after my initial tentative toe-in-the-tri-water attempt at Taunton tri in May 2014; however, as that was done on a hybrid bike and with the swim done at a gasping and wheezing frontcrawl / breaststroke combo, I am counting 2015 as my first proper tri season!

My last blog, written after the Geopark Event Sprint Tri in May this year, highlighted how thrilled and excited I had felt to podium at my first proper tri event. That said, I was very much aware that it was an event targeted at novices, with a safe, off-road, multi-lap bike route around a velo park track, and so the standard of entry was well below that of an established club organised event. The Oxley is a favourite on the race calendars of many club athletes due to its slick organisation and tough but scenic bike course. At 30km, the bike is also quite long for the sprint distance and was double that of the Geopark tri bike course. With this in mind, and having studied the results from the previous years, I did not expect to repeat my beginner's luck and get a podium place here: I was just in it for more tri experience and to enjoy it!

Haha! Yeah right.... this is me. Although I don't have the kit – got the road bike now, but still not got the cleats, so biking in my running trainers! – me and my £10 Aldi trisuit were still going to give this all we'd got and, who knows, maybe just maybe there might be the outside chance of a category place, if all the other athletes in my F30-39 age group were out for the season having babies!! (There is a reason that this age group attracts proportionately less entrants than the F20-29 and F40-49 sections!!)

Setting up in transition; far too early in the morning!

I have been working hard on my swim and expected to dip under the 8 minute mark this time round, but I felt a bit flat in the water on the day and the swim didn't feel that smooth. Also, ironically, the lane seeding was a bit too much of a success as the other two swimmers in my lane, one man and one woman, were too similar to me! They were going that little bit too fast to overtake them within a length, but too slow so that I was stacking up behind them and having to hold back slightly from the pace I wanted to swim at. All in all, a 7:46 min 400m split was pleasing enough.

7:46 min swim split, slowly progressing!

Exiting the pool and off to T1!

The transition area was over a quarter of a mile away from the pool, so my transition time of over 3 minutes looks dire on paper, but is explainable and comparable to everyone else. Apart from overshooting my bike and having to turn around and head back to it, T1 went smoothly and I was soon off the bike, weaving my way through the twisty, narrow streets of Sherborne.

Time maybe to mention here that I lived in Sherborne for 2 years whilst working as matron (hold the Kenneth Williams impressions please!) at Sherborne International College, in 2011 and 2012. It was here that my running really progressed and training on the lanes around Sherborne led me to my sub 3 hour marathon in April 2012. The bike course was 2 laps of one of my popular marathon training routes, around the back of Sherborne Castle. It was great to have some familiarisation with the route and nice to relive some memories of that time.

There was a 1 mile long hill, tackled twice, on the bike course. My training runs never used to take me up this actual part of the road as there's no pavement and there's too much traffic, but I would often do my hill reps sessions on a wooded track that runs parallel to this road, so I was at least familiar with the length and gradient of the hill. I started conservatively as the hill came less than a mile into the 18.5 mile ride, so I didn't want to wreck my legs and lungs this early on, but, even with holding back, I found that I was picking off all the riders in front of me, many of them men. Over the two times of tackling the hill, I must have overtaken about 15 riders and I didn't get overtaken at all.... the descents, however, were a completely different story! The only people I managed to overhaul on the downhill sections were ladies on hybrid bikes taking it cautiously! It sure highlighted where I need to put the work in!!

Lack of cleats and £10 Aldi suit aside, I am almost starting to pass for someone who deserves the prefix 'tri' in front of their description!

Loving the bike course!

Last hill up into transition and I'm done!

I figured a 1h05m bike split for the hilly 30kms would be a feasible target, so I was shocked and thrilled when I rolled into T2 in just under the hour! I'd averaged 18.5mph! I've never even broken a 17mph average on a training ride on the flat before! Amazing what the combination of adrenaline and a competitive mindset can do for you!

The usual wibbly-wobblness in the legs as I headed out on the run soon worked out and I established a comfortable rhythm and my heart rate began to settle. The run route was a bit twisty-turny and convoluted – as most sprint tri 5k routes tend to be – but it did mean that there were plenty of opportunities for Matt to pop up and shout some encouragement at me... and to take photos! Again, the run route was on roads I was familiar with from my time in Sherborne and so I knew at the halfway point that I felt strong and in control and so it was safe to push on. I managed to pick a fair few people off on the run and didn't get overtaken myself, so it was reassuring that my legs can still react and perform well in this third discipline, even though I have been neglecting it a bit of late in favour of the bike and swim training.

Feeling strong on the run - good to finally have my running legs back!

Running under the finish gantry in the stunning setting of the Sherborne Girls' School playing fields, I stopped the clock at 1:31:36. My pre-race estimations had been for around the 1h40m mark, so I had smashed that! Woop! I had absolutely no idea of where this placed me in relation to everyone else, as, with the wave-start format, you have no way of knowing where the competition is at over the different disciplines. There is a real purity in this style of event as you have to approach the thing as a time-trial and go hard the whole way, which suits my style of racing as I am more than capable of pushing myself and motivating myself without the need of other athletes to work off. Nothing annoys me more than someone who uses me as a pacemaker the whole way only to burn me up at the end in a sprint finish as I have no kick to respond with!!

Running under the finish gantry: always a great moment to savour!

We had arranged to meet friends Wayne and Marie for lunch afterwards and so I wasn't sure whether it was worth hanging around for the presentation ceremony as I was pretty sure I wouldn't have placed as there were some seriously fit looking ladies on some seriously bling bikes out there. I thought I'd better check with the organisers before disappearing though, just in case I had managed to sneak my beak in and they told me that I'd definitely want to stick around for the presentations. It transpired that I had placed second lady and first in my age category, so I came away with two little trophies for my efforts! I was a good 5 minutes behind the first lady, who I recognised from a few running races, but I was a full 2 minutes clear of the third lady, so it was a hard-earned podium place this time, not just a lucky break!

Some triathlon bling to keep the running bling company in the trophy cab!

The tri season is very short in the UK due to our rubbish climate, but I'd like to sneak one more in before the end of the year and I'd like it to be an open water swim. I've proved to myself that I can deliver a decent enough performance in a lovely, warm, smooth-surfaced swimming pool, now I need to step up to the next level and wetsuit it on up: that brings a whole new set of challenges in itself! I have an event in mind... check back in September to hear how it turns out!

What goes up...

My first blog post as Ellie Dominey. Here goes...

I ended the last post by stating that Ellie Dominey would be more successful and less injury-riddled than Ellie Sutcliffe and, touch wood and whistle, so far that is proving to be the case. My first race as a Dominey, the Llanberis fell 5k, whilst on our “mini-moon” in Snowdonia, yielded a pleasing victory. We drove up to Wales on Wednesday 15th July to start a 10 night mini-moon there (our actual honeymoon will be in Iceland in September). We just fancied going somewhere quiet and peaceful where we could chill out, enjoy a moment of calm after the hectic few weeks leading up to the wedding, and, of course, enjoy each other's company as husband and wife. This did not mean that amidst all the relaxing and prosecco swilling there could not be a bit of running and racing thrown into the mix.

I mentioned in my last post that doing the Snowdon Twilight uphill race had seemed to do wonders for my dodgy achillies. It in fact proved to be somewhat of a miracle panacea of a cure as since then I have had no swelling or stiffness in it and no pain at all upon running! I can only assume that something was trapped inside – it certainly felt that way, and resting wasn't doing it a lot of good – and that stretching it by running uphill has released it and made it more mobile again. Not a conventional cure but, as it appears to have worked, I have nothing but praise for what I am calling the “mountain method” of healing.

And so I lined up on a beautiful, sunny Wednesday evening in Llanberis high street a little more confident about the behaviour of my unruly and defiant left leg and raring to race. Matt and I had been given race numbers '1' and '2'. He let me have number one, “ladies first”, what a gent! Wearing number 1 on my vest has never brought an analogous result on the few occasions I have been privileged enough to be given it in the past, but maybe tonight would buck the trend? I figured that as I didn't have a cat in hell's chance of placing in the top 10, let alone the top 3, at the main Snowdon Race on Sunday (it's loaded with international and national fell running talent and the standards are probably higher than any other race I've competed in), I would give it everything tonight at the 5k and then just enjoy the main race on Saturday.

The first mile of the race was entirely up hill and I was surprised at how fit I felt. I anticipated having to walk some of that first mile but, as it was, I posted an 8:28m/m split for it and felt relatively comfortable. One other girl had gone out hard from the gun but I soon realised she had overcooked it and I began to reel her in, passing her just before the 1 mile point and the brow of the hill. From here we were entreated to a flat section of running, even a little bit of downhill, before the route kicked up again to Hebron and to intercept the Llanberis path on the lower slopes of Snowdon. But, what goes up must come down and now came the part I most dreaded: an insanely steep and fast descent, on tarmac. I knew my achillies felt ok until this point, but I wasn't too sure how it would feel after subjecting it to forces 10 times my body weight on this 1 mile long, harsh, steep descent. But I was winning the women's race, so I had no choice but to go for it. For all I knew, there could have been some master descenders stacking up behind me waiting to pounce! Apparently I actually increased my lead on the descent and finished in 22:31; a respectable time on a mountain 5k involving 800ft of climb and a bit of a boost that my current fitness levels are not as dire as I feared! The race numbers proved lucky - I was 1st lady and 1st Dominey, Matt was 2nd Dominey! I was 10th overall, Matt was 20th overall... there's kind of a pattern emerging there!

Having just crested the first hill, running towards Snowdon on the Llanberis 5k fell race.

Husband and wife dream team!

On to Saturday, but first we were off to Llandudno to check into our hotel for the next three nights, which was on the sea front, right at the top, with sea and promenade views: a real treat. We ate out both night and, on the Friday night, we went to a Mediterranean restaurant and I decided I wanted to have mussels. Yes, I know what you're thinking, and my husband said the same: “Are you sure that's wise, the night before Snowdon Race?” “Yeh yeh, it'll be fine. I've had them loads of times before and never had a problem”. Well, you can probably guess what happened next.... It wasn't pleasant. Being violently ill at 15 minute intervals from around 9pm until 2am. I soon became so weak and shaky that I couldn't even kneel over the toilet, I just collapsed in a pathetic heap at the base, shivering and convulsing. Snowdon Race suddenly seemed like being yet another DNS. The one thing I will say for food poisoning though (and believe me, I'm fast becoming somewhat the expert having now had it 3 times, in addition to the Norro virus once), it soon passes. Once your body has rid itself of the evil substances within, you soon stop being ill and start to feel better. The problem is, you are empty and weak. I woke up feeling pretty bloody naff and not in the mood for any breakfast, but I knew if I were to have a chance of making the start line I would have to start replenishing everything I'd lost sharpish. I resigned myself to forgoing my last chance at a proper cooked breakfast and settled for plain toast! The start time for Snowdon Race is 2pm; normally I hate afternoon events as I struggle to get the eating balance right between having enough energy to get me through, but not overdoing it at lunch so that I feel sluggish. This time I was grateful: had it been a morning start there's no way I'd have made it! I necked that toast like a trouper and, after some fresh sea air to ensure it stayed down, we checked out and headed off to Llanberis.

View from our seaview hotel room in Llandudno. 

We checked into our holiday cottage for the next week, which was in Fachwen; a lovely little village on the opposite shore of the lake to Llanberis, with stunning views of Snowdon, the Eilio ridge and the lake. As coincidence would have it, it soon transpired that we were renting the cottage of a couple of local fell running legends – Joan and Dennis Glass. Joan is a former 3 time winner of the Snowdon Race (1977, 78 and 79) and a pioneer for women in the sport in the 70s and 80s. She and her husband were the founders of the Moel Eilio fell race, now a firm favourite on the fell running calender and the second biggest in the area after Snowdon Race.

The amazing view from our holiday cottage in Fachwen, looking over Llyn Padarn, Llanberis and Moel Eilio.

Post-race prosecco rehydration at our holiday cottage.

At 2pm I lined up on the start line which was in the high street this year as the race was celebrating its 40th year and so the start was put back to its original place. This was not ideal for me: it made the race over half a mile longer, and all of that extra half mile was on flat tarmac – yuck! I felt surprisingly strong on the ascent, considering the state I was in sprawled in a pathetic heap on the hotel bathroom floor not 12 hours previously, and made good pace to the summit, churning out a steady rhythm. I didn't push as hard on the steeper walking sections this time, opting to save the legs and the energy for the descent, and I arrived at the summit in 1h06m. This was 7 minutes slower than my Twilight uphill only attempt and 4 minutes slower than my summit time from the 2011 Snowdon Race; however, when you consider that the extra half mile at the start would have taken at least 3 minutes, this time wasn't actually that bad.

About half way up Snowdon on the Snowdon International Fell Race (10.5 miles / 3300ft)

Three quarters of the way up, heading up to Allt Goch.

I was nearing the summit when there was suddenly a huge amount of congestion on the main path. As I got near it became clear that one of the female runners – I later learned an English international athlete who had been in 3rd place – was being tended to by marshalls. She had sliced her head open by falling onto some rocks at the start of the descent and there was blood everywhere. On an already queasy stomach and not being a lover of the sight of blood, this pretty much tipped me over the edge. My legs suddenly went wobbly and I felt rather unsteady, so I took the decision to just pootle down steadily, enjoying the experience and views, and to spare myself a similar fate. I have seen lots of trips and tumbles and injuries on the mountain, but this one really shook me up. By the time I made the turn around she was just being taken away by mountain rescue, but the pool of blood on the path was a stark enough warning alone...

The descent down Allt Goch on the scree - the part I dread most, especially on jelly legs!

A brief moment of cheer came in the form of passing friend and Exmouth Harrier Rich Bishop. I summitted 2 minutes ahead of him, so we high-fived as I turned around and passed him near the summit. “You'll get me on the descent”, I hollered, and, sure enough, in no time at all he came flying past and went on to register a super time of 1h42. I trailed in 14 minutes later, having been overtaken by over 100 runners on the way down! My overall time, a rather naff 1h56m, was 20 minutes slower than my 2011 effort, but I was in one piece, my legs felt good and I lived to fight (and race!) another day, having enjoyed the experience tremendously for not having been operating at my limits for a rare change! A few swims in the lake later and my legs felt good as new!

The best way to recover from a hard mountain race? Open water swimming in a freezing cold lake!

Next up? Well, I was entered into the inaugural Scott Snowdonia Trail half-marathon the following weekend. It was meant to be a swansong to our time in North Wales on honeymoon and I entered it when I was running descent mileage around February time. With my achillies niggle, that mileage had dropped off to less than 13 miles a month, let alone in one go, and so I made the sensible decision to DNS. Annoying, but it would have been more annoying if I'd ran, injured my leg again, and set my recovery back by months. Instead, we did the Penrhyn parkrun, at aNational Trust estate near Bangor, where I again surprised myself with my fitness levels to finish as 1st lady and post the 3rd fastest female time on the course of 19:49.

I now want to capitalise on the swimming and cycling fitness that I've been working on and so my next event is a duathlon, followed the week after by another sprint tri. More about those in the next instalment! For now, it's goodbye from me, Mrs. D!

Ending my time as a Sutcliffe on a high!

It's now one week on from my Snowdon Twilight Uphill race experience and my legs have just about recovered! What a cracker of a race it was, being all the more sweet as I went into it after 2 months of no running due to (yet a-sodding-nother) achillies injury and expecting very little of myself. Yes, I know what readers will think: running up a mountain with a dodgy achillies, really? But my thinking for going ahead with the race was six fold:
1) I needed (and wanted!) to go to North Wales anyway to deliver a bridesmaid dress to Sarah, my bridesmaid who lives in Llanberis.
2) I had paid for the entry and couldn't get a refund on it: didn't want yet another £20 to go down the drain on a DNS.
3) I figured, in my present state of (non-existent) running fitness, I would be walking rather than running most of it anyway, thus not compounding overuse running injuries.
4) I also figured that my left leg was so buggered already, what harm would it do if I broke it some more as I'm not running on it at the moment anyway (yes, I do realise that this skewed way of thinking is probably why I am perpetually injured...)
5) I have enough non-running related stuff going on over the next few months to distract me if I did screw myself up completely and so I had mentally prepared myself to accept the consequences of potentially damaging it some more.
6) This is the first and only race on Snowdon to go uphill only and finish at the top (well, the first one that has been open to anyone and not purely to elites on an invitational basis) – an absolute dream for me as I hate the downhill part – so I sure as hell wasn't about to miss out on a chance to be a part of Snowdon Race history!

Enough justification, so I thought, to give it a bash.

So, what did it entail? Well, quite simple really: start in the lakeside field where the annual Snowdon Race starts and run to the summit of Snowdon up the Llanberis path. 5 miles, 3250ft of ascent, with the added twist of it being run at dusk so that you also raced the sun to the summit, which in turn entreated us to the most marvellous sunset views from the top. (Think glowing orange sky over Anglesey to gawp at on the jog back down).

The event did not disappoint. It was far more low-key than the main up and downhill event in July, with a small but select crowd of 103 runners assembling on the start line. We were counted through the start by marshalls, checked that we were carrying all the mandatory kit – headtorch, waterproof, gloves, hat/Buff – and then we charged off towards the mountain.

A small but perfectly formed field assemble at the base of Snowdon ready to race to the top!

Considering my abysmal build up for this race, I had absolutely no expectations of performing well. I most certainly didn't plan to be competitive at the front end of the ladies' field, knowing full well that some experienced fell and mountain runners would be toeing the line, and I resigned myself to having to walk some of the sections that I previously scampered up with ease. My main concern was that I would make the 1h05m cut off at Clogwyn station (three quarters of the way up) and be allowed to continue to the top. I know, I know I always undersell myself, but this time I really did fear this would be a challenge too far. When I say I haven't been running, I mean it! A DNF at Welsh Castles relay, followed by a week of hobbling at a walk, closed the book on my last attempt to run. Since then, I've just been cross-training, biking and working on my swim: I figure I might as well use the enforced rest from running to work on the weaker of my triathlon disciplines! (Which, by the by, appears to be working if today's 400m time trial PB is anything to go by!).

The one positive of going into a race with the 'complete' rather than 'compete' mindset was that I was totally chilled out leading up to it and really looking forward to running an event out of my area, where I knew nothing of the fellow runners (and they knew nothing of me!) and where I could just slot into the pack and run my own race: no pressure! Well.... no pressure, that is, aside from the usual amount I heap on myself once I toe that startline and the adrenaline kicks in! I suddenly found myself scrutinising (and doubting) the contents and weight of my Camelbak: am I carrying too much water? Did I really need to pack that extra Helly top for the descent or could I have just managed with my windcheater? And I found myself scrutinising my own weight: look at all these ultra-skinny fell types around you; you're going to be hauling about a stone more bulk up that mountainside than these other women. Are my shorts tighter? I'm sure they are. My thighs are definitely bigger: bloody Chris Hoy cycling legs. I feel heavy and sluggish: definitely shouldn't have had that extra spoonful of pasta at lunch. Shouldn't have had pasta at lunch at all: idiot. Hate evening races: all that waiting around and worrying about being hungry and having low blood sugar come race time, I've now gone and consumed too much. Oh well, too late to do anything about it now.... oooh, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1: we're off!!!

The usual manic charge and jostling for position along the 0.40 mile opening stretch of flat tarmac. Quick check of the watch: 6m/m, what the hell?! I'm meant to unfit and starting conservatively. Over the cattle grid and, bang, we hit the hill. “Here we go, the fun starts”, I share with a fellow competitor who is alongside me at this point. “Well, we wouldn't be here if we liked the flat tarmac I guess”, he offers back: that's one of the things I love about mountain running, the camaraderie and banter (did I really just use that awful word?!) between runners, all there sharing a common love and a common goal.

Snowdon, via the Llanberis path, is a run of three parts. The first third is horrendously hilly, the opening section on tarmac, then the hill continues up steep, rugged steps until level with Hebron; the middle third levels out and is surprisingly runnable, you scamper past Halfway House and are just beginning to establish some sort of rhythm and then, BOOM! The fun really starts. You approach Allt Moses, followed by Allt Goch. You can largely forget running for this entire mile long section, save for a very brief moment of respite as you head under the railway bridge at Clogwyn.

A quick check of the watch as I passed Halfway House read 29:30. Hmm.... the first half covered in under 30 minutes; surprising. However, never being quite sure whether it is exactly halfway, if it is halfway in terms of height gain or in terms of distance covered, I promptly dismissed any faint glimmer of hope of getting anywhere near my previous summit PB (set in 2011, before injuries kicked in and when I was training descent mileage and hills every week) of 1:01:56. Knowing that the toughest section was to come, I figured I had likely gone out too hard, was imminently to blow up and would pay the price for my over-exuberance later on!

Just before halfway, on the flatter middle section.

A brief boost came in the form of seeing Moira shortly before halfway. She informed me that I was third female at that point and I was flabbergasted! In the mad-dash start I had totally lost sight of where I was in relation to others, and, to be honest, I hadn't paid as much attention as usual as I had ruled out a podium finish from the get-go. Shortly after, a little wisp of a lady effortlessly floated past me, only serving to reaffirm that she was pacing a sensible race and I, clearly, wasn't. (Also reaffirming that my recently acquired chunky, muscular triathlete's body is not the ideal physique of an uphill mountain runner!) On the more level, runnable stretches, I found that cardiovascular fitness was letting me down and I as looking forward to the steep sections for an excuse to walk. Once I hit the steep sections, my back and quads and calves would start screaming and I was praying for it to level out so I could run again and give my back a break! (Mental note to self: much more core work needed.)

The stream of runners snakes its way ever upwards towards the summit! (I'm on the far right, in the yellow!)

As soon as we reached Clogwyn we headed into cloud. At the start, the race director had mooted the idea that there might be a cloud inversion waiting for us at the summit and so I was hopeful. Of all my Snowdon summits whilst living in North Wales, I have never been fortunate enough to be entreated to this spectacular sight: maybe tonight would be the night?! As it turned out, it wasn't to be; just the usual grey mist. Luckily I know the mountain well enough by now to know when the summit is drawing near and when to time my final push. I managed to pick off a guy in the final 100 meters as, suddenly, without warning, Hafod Eryri (the summit building) appeared through the clouds and there was the finish line! Glacing again at my Garmin it read 59:46, with approximately 20 meters left to run. My final spurt ensured that I crossed the line in just under the hour: 59:57. My first ever sub-1 hour summit run and a new PB! What the hell? Garmin, are you drunk? Stop teasing me like this. But no, apparently it was confirmed by the results: 4th female, 3rd senior female and 30th overall in 59:57. I should be satisfied, right? It way exceeded even the most optimistic of my expectations. But I wasn't. The first thought: could I have found that extra 1 and a half minutes to claim the third spot? The second thought: if I can do this on no running training at all, what could I achieve if I was actually able to string together a decent spell of training and wasn't injured all the damn time?

The great thing about finishing at the summit is that you could have a panad and a post-race natter with all the other runners at the top before jogging down at a leisurely pace. Entry fee included a cuppa and a flapjack!

The beauty of racing at dusk: we were entreated to this stunning sunset over Anglesey on the descent. 

Ah, the injury. Did it aggravate it? Bizarrely, no. I didn't feel it at all and, the next day, it felt less stiff upon waking than it has in months. Furthermore, all the swelling in it had apparently subside overnight. The rest of my legs were trashed: walking downhill was virtually impossible, stairs were a total write-off for the next three days and I generally felt as though I'd been violently beaten up down some back alley and left there for dead. But it was DOMS: that much missed ache that gently lets you know that your body has been put through something tough and it wants you to look after it for the next few days. A nice, satisfying ache and NOT an injury.

We were allowed to jog back down the railway as it doesn't run after 6pm and I paused to savour this most amazing, peaceful moment where I sat down on a rock to appreciate the view and all I could hear was my own breathing. Pretty special. This was interspersed with moments of other runners catching me up (I was only shuffling to protect my leg!), stopping to run alongside for a few minutes and have a natter, share experiences etc. All in all, the summit finish concept worked superbly: it gave you a completely different experience of the mountain. 

So, what now? Well, firstly, there is the small matter of my wedding on July 11th. That will be succeeded by a honeymoon which, rather conveniently, will take place in North Wales.... just whilst the main Snowdon Race (uphill and down) happens to be on. It would be a shame not to give this a bash, given that my achillies came off the Twilight race so well, right?! ;-) Then, one week later, I am entered into the Scott Snowdonia Trail half marathon. This entails running up Snowdon and back down again, but with the added delight of running an extra 5 miles on the trails around Llyn Padarn afterwards. This one is not so set in stone: it's one thing getting away with an uphill stomp to the summit, then relaxing in the cafe with a panad before trotting down again at a leisurely pace, but 13 miles would be longer than I have run in one go since January 2014, so probably not a wise plan to even start.

Otherwise, our honeymoon will entail lots of open water swim training in the lake – doubles up as active recovery for the post-race leg aches and pains too – and generally lots of day-tripping, walking and relaxing in the beautiful Snowdonia.

So I completed my last race as a Sutcliffe on a high - metaphorically and physically; you won't find a finish line higher in England and Wales at any rate! The next blog post will be brought to you from Ellie Dominey. I plan for Ellie Dominey to be injury free and achieve greater things than Ellie Sutcliffe so far has. Here's hopin'! Watch this space!