Let's go out for an easy spin, he said. In my head, this translated into "let's go out for a easy tootle". But as it turned out, spinning isn't all that easy, or at least not when you're not accustomed to it.
We planned to do 40K. Do you ever get those times when things just don't feel quite right before you go out for a ride? This was one of those times. I was knackered after work and not particularly on it, but I'm used to that. The trick with that is not to sit down. But the fact that none of my little pre-ride routines went as usual made me feel a bit twitchy: being a bit OCD about these things I'm usually careful to observe the little rules I set for myself, from which shoe goes on first to which side of the bike I'm on when we walk down the drive. None of it was as it usually is.
The first 20K was fine, concerned with mentally shifting gears from "easy tootle" to "spin" and ignoring tired legs. Then we reached a junction which we needed to go straight over: a car driver opposite was dithering about which way to go and at the last minute indicated to turn right directly into Sid's path. I shouted a warning to him as I could see he hadn't seen it, so he had to slam on the brakes and couldn't unclip quickly enough, so hit the deck in his dodgy right knee.
We took a few minutes and then set off again, circumnavigating the grounds of the rather well-appointed Beaufort Polo Club. It's a nice route and one to remember. Then there was some tool in a Range Rover (as is often the case in my experience) who went past us, clearly took his or her eye off the road and then drove up onto the grass verge just in front of us and, presumably in a state of some embarrassment, went roaring off up the lane to make up for it, taking no account of the blind bend and the cyclist coming the other way, who was very nearly twatted. This sort of thing used to be very common when we did all our training in Kent, but here in the West County where people are generally much more pleasant and relaxed, it is more unusual.
There followed a couple more instances of car drivers not really slowing down enough to squeeze past us on country lanes, and then the final insult: cycling up a hill I got smacked in the face by an insect (again not unusual) only this time I got stung on the nose for my trouble.
At this point we decided to cut the ride short and head home before anything else happened. 32.5k. Sometimes you just gotta cut your losses and focus on getting home alive.
Saturday 1 July 2017
Tuesday 27 June 2017
Easy does it
One of the things we are quite bad at is taking it easy doing sufficient Z1/Z2 work, whether running or on the bike. Forget swimming, that's always up there in the zones because I haven't mastered the art of relaxing sufficiently in the water for much effective endurance building work.
But we have started to do more easy recovery runs and tonight was one such, a really lovely pace aided by PoochAssist, perfect antidote after the stresses of a day at work. Our aim now is to work is into our cycling regimen, with one 50k push, a 40k ish spin and a longer one at the weekend. Thinking about finding different routes for the spin work as the temptation to go for a PR all the time on the fast routes is too much to bear.
So let's see how that goes.
But we have started to do more easy recovery runs and tonight was one such, a really lovely pace aided by PoochAssist, perfect antidote after the stresses of a day at work. Our aim now is to work is into our cycling regimen, with one 50k push, a 40k ish spin and a longer one at the weekend. Thinking about finding different routes for the spin work as the temptation to go for a PR all the time on the fast routes is too much to bear.
So let's see how that goes.
Monday 26 June 2017
Inaugural post
So I've been considering on and off doing a training blog, and finally I've got my beans in a row to do it rather than just think about it.
Thus far this year we've done the following:
A number of Mallorcan mountains in our first trip abroad with the bikes (including Colle de Soller, Randa, Valdemossa and Puig Major);
Bristol 10K road race;
Tour of Bath Sportive 56k;
Westonbirt Sprint Tri;
Smeathe's Ridge 10k trail run:
Great Western Sportive 118km.
This year we've learned that training for your specific event is a Really Good Call. The sprint tri was a case in point; after our first tri last year at Leeds Castle we were much fitter and better prepared this year and it was a great day. We lucked out with the weather and the clouds that threatened throughout only opened as we were driving home. Similarly the weather had been kind to us for all the other events.
That is, until the Great Western, which took place on the hottest day of the year, 32 at its peak. I so wasn't prepared for that. I hadn't cycled for two weeks prior to the event and even the training beforehand had been geared towards the tri, all short sprint distances sub 30k. Don't do this. Sufferance was the order of the day, that and not inconsequential levels of delirium towards the end. Not for the first time, the only thing that got me through it was sheer bloody minded determination. On the plus side I did not sit at the side of the road crying, but it was a close thing.
Bits of it were great! The route took in the stones at Avebury, which I've been wanting to see for ages, and the White Horses. Some killer hills, but we were on it for the first 50 odd K, until the first rest stop. In my head I had divided the ride into three: first, 53k, then a 40k stretch to the second rest stop and finally 25k to the finish. We made the mistake of using a different electrolyte picked up at the first rest stop, which was not good. Don't they always tell you not to do or use anything different on race day? There's a good reason for that.
The 40k stretch was a struggle. I had to let Sid go ahead, for both our sakes, which left me to my own inner resources for the remaining 65k. Just after the rest stop there was a 17% hill. I got half way up and that was it. At least I now know that in extremis, I can unclip very quickly. On another day I might have managed it, but not that day. The route took us through Lambourn and some sort of valley which, pretty as it was, felt like cycling through an oven. Man it was tough. The hills just kept coming, not that big but big enough. You know it's bad when you just have to break the ride down into 5km portions and then, worse, 1km.
Made it to the second rest stop at 93k, everything ablaze. On the plus side my back was so sore I barely noticed the state of my arse. The last 25 wasn't quite as bad for a while, except that I really was feeling quite delirious and I could feel my cognitive function and reaction times slipping away. I kept thinking to myself, "and you've toyed with the idea of doing an Ironman, you mad bastard?". It was so bad at times I couldn't even maximise the downhills, for fear of falling off for no good reason. The electrolyte situation wasn't helping as it was causing bad indigestion type symptoms and I knew I had to get off to walk up a final hill as it was quite crippling.
Anyway. We made it. Slowly, but we made it, resolving to never do anything like that without first putting the requisite amount of training in. To top it all off the medal was small and a bit shit.
Which brings me to the next one: Wiggle Cotswold. This time another 118km but with twice the elevation, in two weeks' time. So the focus is very much on the bike, although we have to keep the running going at least to a degree. Swimming is nowhere to be seen for the time being.
Tonight, a nice 50k after work, PR time over that distance, so very pleased with that. I've never done >25kph over 50k before, and tonight's effort was 25.9kph. Onwards and upwards.
Thus far this year we've done the following:
A number of Mallorcan mountains in our first trip abroad with the bikes (including Colle de Soller, Randa, Valdemossa and Puig Major);
Bristol 10K road race;
Tour of Bath Sportive 56k;
Westonbirt Sprint Tri;
Smeathe's Ridge 10k trail run:
Great Western Sportive 118km.
This year we've learned that training for your specific event is a Really Good Call. The sprint tri was a case in point; after our first tri last year at Leeds Castle we were much fitter and better prepared this year and it was a great day. We lucked out with the weather and the clouds that threatened throughout only opened as we were driving home. Similarly the weather had been kind to us for all the other events.
That is, until the Great Western, which took place on the hottest day of the year, 32 at its peak. I so wasn't prepared for that. I hadn't cycled for two weeks prior to the event and even the training beforehand had been geared towards the tri, all short sprint distances sub 30k. Don't do this. Sufferance was the order of the day, that and not inconsequential levels of delirium towards the end. Not for the first time, the only thing that got me through it was sheer bloody minded determination. On the plus side I did not sit at the side of the road crying, but it was a close thing.
Bits of it were great! The route took in the stones at Avebury, which I've been wanting to see for ages, and the White Horses. Some killer hills, but we were on it for the first 50 odd K, until the first rest stop. In my head I had divided the ride into three: first, 53k, then a 40k stretch to the second rest stop and finally 25k to the finish. We made the mistake of using a different electrolyte picked up at the first rest stop, which was not good. Don't they always tell you not to do or use anything different on race day? There's a good reason for that.
The 40k stretch was a struggle. I had to let Sid go ahead, for both our sakes, which left me to my own inner resources for the remaining 65k. Just after the rest stop there was a 17% hill. I got half way up and that was it. At least I now know that in extremis, I can unclip very quickly. On another day I might have managed it, but not that day. The route took us through Lambourn and some sort of valley which, pretty as it was, felt like cycling through an oven. Man it was tough. The hills just kept coming, not that big but big enough. You know it's bad when you just have to break the ride down into 5km portions and then, worse, 1km.
Made it to the second rest stop at 93k, everything ablaze. On the plus side my back was so sore I barely noticed the state of my arse. The last 25 wasn't quite as bad for a while, except that I really was feeling quite delirious and I could feel my cognitive function and reaction times slipping away. I kept thinking to myself, "and you've toyed with the idea of doing an Ironman, you mad bastard?". It was so bad at times I couldn't even maximise the downhills, for fear of falling off for no good reason. The electrolyte situation wasn't helping as it was causing bad indigestion type symptoms and I knew I had to get off to walk up a final hill as it was quite crippling.
Anyway. We made it. Slowly, but we made it, resolving to never do anything like that without first putting the requisite amount of training in. To top it all off the medal was small and a bit shit.
Which brings me to the next one: Wiggle Cotswold. This time another 118km but with twice the elevation, in two weeks' time. So the focus is very much on the bike, although we have to keep the running going at least to a degree. Swimming is nowhere to be seen for the time being.
Tonight, a nice 50k after work, PR time over that distance, so very pleased with that. I've never done >25kph over 50k before, and tonight's effort was 25.9kph. Onwards and upwards.
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