Nasty nips

Until I got the email-of-doom from Damon (see below), the weekend had been going rather well. Yesterday we drove north in driving rain to Dolgellau for the massive Cader Idris race, which I’ve not done before.

Lots of familiar faces, and a great atmosphere in the town, and some quality browsing in shops that have held the same stock since the 1950s. We actually bought a plastic ice tray that was “Made in England”!

I did OK in the race, climbing steadily into the clag, knowing there was one veteran just ahead of me. After turning at the summit though I stupidly tried to find the “canny shortcut”, ended up in a boulder field for ages, then stumbled back to the main path losing quite a bit of time. This let two youngsters catch up, though I ripped something back taking the direct plunge instead of the zigzag path (those who have raced Cader will know what I mean) but one of them got me again on the steep slippy bit just before the road. I caught the other veteran in the woods just before inhaling a massive fly, which had me coughing as if to die for several minutes. Good run in on the road, 12th overall, 1st veteran, in 1:36. The prize was a pretty mingey £10 prize all things considered, now in the 3PYR charity pot. Andrew Davies won it in 1:28, Martin Shaw in 4th.

Here’s me pulling a bizarre face descending the Pony Path (which at high speed in wet conditions is frankly terrifying)…

It must have been in the last couple of miles that my nipples started bleeding properly, and rather than making all the girls swoon by showing pictures of the offending articles, here’s a shot of my blooded race number…

This morning Naomi took me up to Storey Arms to hook up with Patrick Wooddisse, who had set off on a South Wales Traverse at 3am. This is a 72 mile epic over all the 2000ft summits of South Wales, similar to a Bob Graham round. We had a lovely run in improving weather over the central Beacons, then hooked up with Helen Fines for the haul up to Cefn yr Ystrad and down to Pyrgad. On the road section I went ahead to line up a pint at the Red Lion (orange juice and lemonade, shame) – much needed as Patrick had then been running for eleven hours and was feeling a little peeky. He set off again looking strong, and I’ve just heard (21:00) they are at Lord Hereford’s Knob so there’s no doubt he’ll finish at Llanthony in a couple of hours, and might even catch last orders. Respect, Patrick well done.

Here’s Patrick flying the Beacons…

Later… got a text at around 22:05 from Helen: "Oh God he keeps chucking up". She didn’t specify whether they were already in the pub, but my guess was they were not!

One down?

While running over the Beacons this morning I was wondering how Damon got on in his big bike ride, whether the ribs & neck were recovering, or whether (as I feared) they would make life hard . On my return, I found the email I was dreading…

“My rib, six days after my fall, is more painful now than it has been all week. I embarked on an 80-mile bike-ride with a couple of plodders yesterday, managed ten painful miles then bailed out, and had to resort to calling Anna to come and collect me a few miles from home. I couldn’t get into a normal riding position, pull on the handlebars to climb hills or, in fact, tackle anything that required deep breathing without pretty bad discomfort. I can’t run a step without grunting, and can’t get dressed without swearing. My assurances that the rib was bruised rather than broken now seem a bit on the optimistic side (although the pain is centred about 6 inches from the point of impact, albeit on the same rib). From past experience I know that the pain will stick around for about three weeks, which by coincidence takes us to the start of the 3PYR. What this means is that I may be in a fit state to toe the start line, but that I’ll have done nothing for a month. How the injury would respond to humungously long runs on rough ground with a hefty pack is quite another matter.
The upshot is that you either need to find a replacement runner a very short notice, or to resign yourselves to having a cripple on board, which may very well necessitate some heroics from the crew when I get back from Snowdon hours later that predicted in a gibbering heap. Or, it might  be OK.  I guess the way to proceed is for a replacement to be sought, on the understanding that if none can be found, I pitch up and give it a crack.
I can’t express how pissed off I am about this, so I’m not going to try.There seems to be some wee bastard somewhere conspiring against my ever doing a big event again. I’ve finally managed to get past the hopeless susceptibility to chest infections that has scuppered so many races in the last couple of years (high-dose VIT C has done the trick, and I’ve been in good fettle for months now),  I had some miles in the legs, with a final push planned and was flying on the bike, when this happens. Really not very excited at all. I also feel extremely shite at letting you all down so close to the event. I know its a massive commitment of time, effort and money, and that the boat has a chance to do well, and I have nothing to offer except, "sorry!"”.

I’m looking for a replacement… anyone out there?

Getting to Barmouth

Crispin has been giving me some grief for not posting – I don’t know where he has the time – probably doesn’t sleep.

Anyway – this sailing lark isn’t like running – it all requires careful preparation and planning – not just tearing up and down a few hills.

For instance Doug, Ben and I spent an evening the other night sitting on the boat with various scrutineering lists checking and cross checking. End result – we needed 2 gallons of fresh water in a new container and a few more in date flares (now got). We then had to put the dinghy back in the yard (which just happens to be next to the club and the bar was open ….)

I’ve also been sussing out the local opposition (local Sigma 38) and was somewhat relieved to hear that they didn’t seem a whole load more prepared than us – actually had a good chat with their skipper as found myself next to him at the bar in Dale (I had just fixed a bolt on hatch cover to comply ..)

But really its the whole logistics bit thats a head ache. For instance – next w/e (8/9 June) we are planning on getting boat to Barmouth – so we have another w/e in hand if weather turns really crap. This involves having to find some poor sods (sorry crew) who fancy a sail through the night hopefully arriving before the water has left Barmouth and in time for the pubs to open. Then you find yourself marooned in Barmouth c. 3hrs from home on a Sunday – and since Beeching there is no public transport. Fortunately Doug has come to the rescue and is bringing a bus up having convince his wife that she really fancies a w/e in Barmouth.

Then there’s food, getting to Barmouth again, getting back from Scotland – see – its all logistics and planning – not just running round in small circles.

PPPPPP – maybe !

Intimidating blogs and team moral

I’d like to come out in support of Damon over this – I can confirm Crispin needs a few lessons in how to encourage team members. For instance as I was getting hypothermic on the first of the 3 paps and he was running round in small circles like a sheep dog waiting for me to keep up – I said “well one down – two to go”. What I didn’t need in response was “yes – but thats the easiest one….” I then tried to give him a quick lesson on managing teams – but I think between my gasps – some of it was lost in translation ..

Tumbelina

I went arse over breakfast on a steep grassy descent yesterday evening. I’d fitted in a quick blast up the local monster-hill on my bike at lunchtime, and was out for a 45-minute run while the boys were at karate when I lost control and fell headlong, bouncing off a couple of rocks. One grazed and bruised my ribs quite badly (although, despite what Anna maintains, I don’t think any are broken) and another caught my left quad just above the knee. Today the leg is puffy but pretty OK, the ribs are easing a bit (no pain-killers needed) but I seem to have whiplash, and can’t turn my neck nearly as much as usual.
Made use of the enforced rest by stripping the bike down, giving it a good clean, replacing a worn chain and fitting more sturdy tyres to withstand the forest track in Cumbria. It’s now running so smooth that I can free-wheel uphill! Hurrah – and as a bonus, I have quite macho-looking oily hands and chipped finger-nails.

Another intimidating post

Felt a little tired after the weekend’s exertions, so only managed 24 miles before breakfast this morning. Took in a few minor peaks, but only about 9000 feet of ascent overall. My backpack was chafing a bit after a couple of hours, so I had to jettison 12 of the bricks. Finished fresh as a daisy in 2 hours 53, tucked into a pile of eggs and b, then cycled to work.

Good to see Damon’s mastered two more useful sports this weekend – rounders and archery; both could prove useful in the 3PYR. I’ve got a “build your own 1:1 scale mini-sub” kit from Japan, claiming to be ideal for stealth attacks on yachts at their moorings.

And I’m very pleased to report that James has at last been practising sailing that thing, and has given me these calculations of best likely times (i.e. minimum time we will have to eat cake and rub each other up/down between runs):

Barmouth – Caernarfon -  56 nM  (9.5 hours)
Carnarfon – Whitehaven (via Menai) – 92 nM (15.5 hours)
Carnarfon – Whitehaven (round Anglesey) – 112 nM (18.5 hours)
Whitehaven to Fort William (via Sound of Luing) – 198 nM (33 hours)

Hopefully James will add some yacht-shots soon… hint hint.

Oh crap – just got text from Damon, who’s taken a bad fall training on the hills and busted up a knee and ribs.

Intimidation

I’d like to start a campaign for an end to the increasingly intimidating posts being published by Crispin. They are not good for team morale, and it’s quite clear he’s going to burn out before the big day.. I had a sensible weekend, strolling around Alnwick Castle with the family on Saturday, and playing rounders at my daughter’s school on Sunday. The rounders has left me with very tight hamstrings, but quite a nice tan. However, to inspire confidence that I remain an athletic force, I thought I’d post a couple of pictures from my stunning and effortless victory last year’s Eildon Hill Race…

Skipping effortlessly away from the field

Emptying my bowels on the finish line

Showing just how easy it is for a real athlete

Forgot to mention, At alnwick Castle I discovered a hitherto unknown talent for archery, which might come in very handy if we find ourselves at close quarters with rival boats. I left the hill-running to my twins. Oscar was clearly undaunted by his broken wing.

Natural style - and barefoot too!

Check out the accuracy. The wayward arrow in the red was merely a sighting shot.

Oscar gets off to a flier

and hold his form to the finish

Toby decides to eat the time-keeper

Two Englishman, a Scotsman and a Greek ran up a hill…

That’ll be the East Wales team for the UK Inter-Counties Fell Running Championships. A couple of weeks ago we had snow on the hills in South Wales… today 27 degrees, so I was feeling quite apprehensive about this 9 mile race at Lletty in the Clwydian Hills. I gave Martin a lift up from Builth, and he was a bit like one of those satnavs that is determined to take the shortest route no matter what; we ended up on precipitous lanes about 6 inches narrower than the car, asking squinty-eyed farmers where we were, but got there in the end.

The inter-counties is the most competitive race in the calendar, and the start line was a who’s who of northern rock’ard fell runners. Plus teams from lots of counties like Leicestershire and Essex who are rather less renowned for their mastery of the lumpy stuff, expressing some consternation that the start was up a 30 degree slope. 

I knew this race was going to be all about pace judgment and the heat, and so it  turned out with many runners failing to finish. 4 x 200 metre climbs, with fast running descents between. I took it steady, enjoying the awesome sight of a hundred runners stretching away in front up the hillfort climb, and another couple of hundred behind. Dick Finch was a gallant team manager, providing drinks and encouragement in the mid section. Then I gradually pulled through the field as many fell to bits around me, and by the last climb I’d caught team mate Rob Gordon (which has never happened before – check out the lean guy far left in the photo below and you’ll see why!) though I was beginning to feel a little dizzy. Here’s a photo from Ali Tye of me (white hat) about to catch Rob (red hat) on the last climb… but on the final descent, Rob blitzed me, overtaking about 5 while I only passed two or three. Very good to finish.

 

I came 41st in 1 hour 27 minutes (and 4th over 40 veteran); Rob was 38th a few seconds in front; Martin had a great run in 25th (1:21:57), and Dmitri 67th in 1:33. The winner was Martin Cox (photo on right) in a truly incredible 1:11:34, over a minute ahead of Simon Bailey in 2nd. First lady was Vic Wilkinson, 4 places ahead of me. We don’t know where we came as a team yet, but well inside top 10 I think. The top prizes went to the usual Yorkshiremen, Cumbrians etc. Here’s the East Wales team (minus a couple of the girls, plus my prize beer for being old)…

Tomorrow I need to get out with a pack on in the heat for some 3PYR grinding, but I’m not sure my toes will be up to it – they are looking properly horrible this evening, making the children scream and run away.

Nice Bianchi

 

And on board it’s Damon at the end of the Etape Caledonia. We’ll be doing a lot of grimacing in the 3PYR, so this was quality training. Damon promises to write this up, but just in case, he finished the extremely hilly 81 miler in 4 hours 10, which is pretty darned good.

Crispin @ Cribyn

With 3,100 feet of ascent over 5.5 miles, this is one tough race. Today it was a counter for the Welsh fell running championships, ensuring a field of almost 100 and some top talent on show. Here’s Martin Shaw climbing in 4th place showing how much it hurts, with glorious views behind of Llangorse Lake and the Black Mountains. Fantastic pictures as ever taken by Alastair Tye – more here.

and me not far behind in about 7th place at this stage (team mate Rob Gordon was just ahead of me)…

and this is where we’re heading next; off piste across the valley and up Cribyn (the pointy thing), then down to the saddle and up Pen y Fan on the right, then back down the ridge we started up.

Here’s Naomi on the climb, not worrying about the kids at all, by the look of it (we’d left them all at the bottom with some trees to climb and streams to fall in).

I took a useless line across the valley, way too far left, losing lots of ground and a place to an Eryri chap who I reckoned was in my category (v40), so I felt quite grumpy climbing the tussocks of Cribyn. That was until an acutely painful stitch made me feel like dying instead. But as we dropped off the summit of Pen y Fan I perked up – the Eryri chap was about 300 metres ahead, and I had my demon descender head on (brain switched off). I gradually reeled him in, til I got right up behind him on the rocky path near the finish. I’ve always dreaded racing anyone hard on that path, coz basically it’s scary and dangerous, but it had to be done and  I tumbled over the line about 2 seconds in front, with my feet almost burning up. Here’s my victim Paul Jenkinson of Eryri, with me visible as white speck far right:

and me chasing…

Tim Davies won in about 54 mins with brother Andrew close behind. Martin 4th, Rob 6th, me 7th and 1st over 40 veteran. This won me a tenner which I’ve donated to our 3PYR charities along with the £30 I won at Ras Diafol.

The massive blood blisters and 2 detaching toenails are making me think twice about the Sarn Helen 16.5 miler tomorrow; we’ll see.