It’s December. It’s dull and dismal outside, it gets dark
early, I’m demotivated and in the throes of a dilemma. All the D’s. I’ve also been lacking the
motivation to write this long-overdue blog, putting it off for weeks; but, as I
wanted to make the title alliterate, I had to get off my arse and write it
before the end of the month… motivation in itself! Hopefully January’s blog
will talk of (re)juvination, jubilation and, who knows, joy?! We’ll see.
For sure, I have lost my running mojo. I have been doing a
fair amount of cycling, which is unusual for me as I tend to be a bit of a fair-weather
cyclist and previously I haven’t ridden outdoors throughout the winter. But
this year, I’ve been preferring getting out on Cannondale to sweating it out on
the turbo or the spin bike inside…. Downton Abbey box set or not. Keeping up
the biking miles is hard in winter as, in the summer months, I cycle to
work, which accounts for approximately 60 – 80 miles a week. In the winter, I
finish too late to get home in the light and my route is just too dangerous to
contemplate in the dark, so I am forced to take the car to work and fit
training in on my days off.
The running, blah. I’ve hardly been doing any. Despite
seeing a specialist achillies physio in Cornwall a couple of times, I am still
struggling with the pesky lower left leg niggles of old. I am sick of running
on it, aggravating it, having to back off again for days, trying again, same
thing happens. Repeat repeat repeat. It’s a truly tedious cycle. I used to run
60 miles a week with back-to-back races not being a problem. Now, if I race, I
need the best part of a week with no running for my lower left leg to recover.
It means my weekly mileage is only about 10 miles a week, and that’s on a good
week. It’s hard to keep the running fitness up and, when I do race, I am
struggling to hold a pace that used to be my marathon PB speed. It’s
frustrating. Basically, I need to give it a damn good rest and then start
again, as if from scratch. So enters the European Duathlon Championship dilemma. To race, or not to race?
The championships – for which I qualified in March 2016 at
Clumber Park – are to be held in Soria, Spain, on the weekend of 29th
/ 30th April. Plenty of time to get fit by then…. Providing I am
able to train. I know I am biking fit, but lots of the ladies there will be as
bike fit as me, and many of them will be better bike handlers, so I will have
to be at my best to hold my own on the bike. The run is where I need to make my
gains, but I can only do that if I can train. I know I can run a 20 minute 5k
on the back of no running training, just using the cross-over cardio from the
biking and swimming, but, at European level, 20 minutes is average. I need to
be banging out an 18:30 – 19:00 time if I am to get within a sniff of the
medals.
The other thing to consider is the cost involved in
competing in this event. Contrary to popular belief, British Triathlon do not
fund your travel, accommodation, bike transport, or race day expenses. Hell,
you even have to pay for the GB kit you have earned the privilege of competing
in and you have to pay to enter the race you have fought hard to qualify for.
GB age-group athletes basically fund the handful of elites, such as the
Brownlees, the Non Stanfords and the Vicki Hollands. I’m not complaining – we can’t
all be funded, and that’s the system I knowingly signed up to – but it does
mean that you have to think carefully about which races you want to target as
they each cost in the region of £1000-£2000 to compete in, so I only want to
part with that sum of money if I have a chance of being competitive.
We have basically avoided booking anything beyond a fully
refundable hotel so far (and that was a stroke of luck that we managed to get
in there, as the rooms in the official Team GB hotel were all snapped up within
days, along with most other rooms in the limited accommodation offering within
the small, remote mountain town of Soria). Getting there is not such an issue
as flights to Madrid are plentiful and inexpensive, and then there is always the
option of the Vomit-Comet (Brittany Ferries) down to Santander, taking our own
car with Cannondale tucked up in the back and thus eliminating the conundrum
of bike-boxing over the wheels. The actual race is not open yet for entry and
the new GB kit has not been released either: all good news as buys me some more
time to make my decision. I will probably have to make a call though by the end
of January as to whether or not to compete. It will all depend on how my
achillies behaves between now and then and what running training I am able to
do on it.
Running and I are not good bed-fellows at the moment. It’s
hard to go on Strava and see the mileage your friends and rivals are putting in
and not to feel a bit forlorn and frustrated. I know I have PBs in me that will
probably stay in me because my battered body just won’t allow me to do the
training necessary to reach that level again. Strava is a whole other blog post
in itself. I initially joined it back in 2014 and left after a few short months
due to feelings of inadequacy. I have the sort of personality that leads me to
compare myself to others, but, inevitably, only the “others” who are better
than me, and thus I always find myself coming up short. The ones who are doing
less miles, slower times, I don’t tend to notice them. Strava, for me, is quite
dangerous. It pushes me to want to overdo things; makes me think I am lazy and
not training enough; frustrates me that all these other people can do the miles
they are doing and not get injured; makes me more likely to train through
illness and to skip much needed rest days: “but so-and-so hasn’t had a rest day
in 5 weeks”. Logic would suggest that so-and-so is an idiot on a hiding to burn
out and/or injury, but my competitive, perfectionist side holds so-and-so up as
a sporting super-hero and negates me to an inferior wannabe who is weak enough
to need rest days and recovery time. I admire, with blindsided incredulity, the
back-to-back 70 mile rides in sub-zero degree temperatures, the head-torch
half-marathon runs at 5am, the sea swims that continue throughout the grip of
winter, the 2 hour long pool sessions (when I get bored and bail after 40
minutes) and I feel decidedly average and lacking. Forget the fact that I do
more than 99% of the population: I zero in on those 1% of heroic, noble souls
who do more than me. Really, I need to do my own thing and ignore what everyone
else is doing… but the lure of a stealthy Strava stalking session is a very powerful
thing!
Enough of the negative waffle. I have a cold/cough combo and, as I sit here swigging on a Lemsip and feeling sorry for myself, the self-critique is all the more heightened as I've had to miss today's planned training session and indulge in a gluttonous second day of rest this week: oh, the horror of there not being a little black circle on
my Strava weekly activity log for the second time this week! Let’s end on a
high and focus on a couple of running races I did manage to do in December
(albeit that I was wasn’t able to run for 7 days after either of them…). All
the best to you all for a happy and healthy 2017!
Almost home! Just the last bit of downhill to go at the Otterton Reindeer Run. I was 2nd female, for the 2nd year running.
Jo Pavey ran the Otterton Reindeer fun-run with her son - lovely lady, always willing to chat and take cheesy pics with sweaty, tired runners!
Finally got to do a race I've had my eye on for years: The Scrooge 7.5 mile multi-terrain race at Heligan, Cornwall.
Half running, half wading: the full multi-terrain experience!
Freezing cold, muddy water, up to your chest. Tri training came in handy!
Approaching another monster hill at The Scrooge.
The wine stations helped to lift the spirits!!
2nd lady and won one of my quirkier trophies to date: a Scrooge inspired top hat!
