Sunday, 3 December 2017

Might Contain Nuts 40 miler

Today I woke up with a very bruised and fat knee, grazed chest, cuts on my hands and the most sore triceps, I assume from where I'd caught myself. I felt like I'd been hit by a bus.....

I entered this race with some friends a couple of months ago. I've not really been training specifically for it, I'd expected it to be more of a social trip. Since Zermatt I've not run further than half a marathon but I've been getting out regularly in the local hills with friends for short - medium trail runs so have been ticking over.

Fresh from a 2 week break in Thailand I had been keen to get some fitness back and what better way than a 40 mile hilly race in South Wales!

The week running up to the event, I'd had a cold and even up to the day before felt pretty run down and hadn't decided whether to start the race or not. My friends had since pulled out for various injuries etc so I had no real pressure to go along. I'd already planned to be in Swindon on the Friday to see dentist and my family so I was half way to Wales if I did decide to go.

I decided that I'd set my alarm in order to do the race and see how I felt in the morning. Best case, I could do the original plan, there were other options - drop to a shorter race, or just stay in bed.

I found myself at the start line of the 40, map tucked in my race vest, lemsip dosed up.... so you know how that decision at 4am went.

The weather forecast looked good, fairly mild, low chance of rain, ice in places and generally no wind. I had opted to wear shorts but was carrying all the mandatory kit in case the weather turned.

My original target before I'd been poorly was to get in sub 9 hours and before having to use my head torch. This felt like a tough target on a good day looking at the results from previous years so I had to be realistic about what I could achieve in my current state, a finish would be a big achievement.

The race started really well. A little too well. With a few flat miles to start, I found myself trotting along at a good clip, trying to hold back a little, thinking I had gone off too quickly. Yet, I felt surprisingly good. Still it was a long way to go and 2700meters of ascent to get through.

Before long we hit the hills, I ran them to begin with, until they got too long, then I hiked as hard as I could. I just couldn't get any air into me, I was making sex noises as I climbed the hills and chugging down a gel. Safely up and over the first hill we got an awesome descent down the other side into the valley and first check point. I was feeling better off the top, getting my breath back. The CP marshals told me here I was the first lady through (which, I knew anyway as I'd left the other ladies behind in the first kilometre). I didn't take anything here, just scanned through and jogged on.

Nothing much exciting happened for a while, until mile 10 while I was on a nice piece of easy fire road, slightly downhill, simultaneously looking for somewhere to take a pee. Whether I lost focus for a second or what I don't know. My toe caught the only rock on the entire path and I took a swan dive straight into the floor. I remember as I hit the floor thinking "not my teeth, not my teeth" I can only assume from the injuries and pains sustained, I took on the form of a sky diver mid flight as both knees impacted the ground hard, my thigh skidded along the floor, followed my tits and hands.

I laid there face down for a few seconds, slightly winded. I crawled up assessing what hurt. I couldn't stand up straight, my knees were trembling, part in pain, part in shock. Blood trickled down my knees. My thighs were stinging, my ribs hurt. Ouch my boobs. Urgh, there's gravel stuck in that hand.

I brushed myself down, and hobbled on a little way. My legs not quite working yet. I was 2 or 3 miles from the next CP, if I had to hobble there I thought I could, so I wobbled on whilst the trembling and shock disappeared. A few minutes later 2 guys appeared and asked if I was OK when they saw my bleeding knees and I tried to jog on with them. I managed a slow jog for a while, whilst I loosened back up.

Reaching the CP, I was feeling OK. Sore, but OK. I decided it was probably better to keep moving rather than stop and seize up, on the plus side, my cold seemed to have improved somewhat! The CP staff asked if I was OK, I said yes, grabbed some coke and walked on out, stumbling around the icy rocks.

The next section took us up the biggest climbs, the Brecon horseshoe, the climbing was hard but I put in a strong hike, the stretch along the ridge is amazing, it was quite windy and icy in places, and the fog was down so I nearly missed the turning at the top. I set off on the descent, sticking to the grass beside the path to avoid the slippery icy rocks. The descent was great. Or it would have been had every single step not sent hideous pains shooting through my kneecaps. I gritted my teeth and pushed on as hard as was comfortable. I was a bit sad as I love this sort of descent now - it's taken some practice and bravery to get to this point but the pain was not fun.

I reached the CP at 20 miles thinking that perhaps I should pull out. I wasn't in the best state, what if I made things worse?

Clearly, I was looking for excuses. I was offered more excuses at the CP. "Are you OK? Do you want to stop? Can we clean you up"

"No, I'll just keep moving" - part of me thinking that it would probably take as long to get back in the sweeper truck as to carry on.

I had been thinking of what I'd tell my friends and family. I had some legit excuses. What I'd title my strava post. Stop being a wanker Anna was the overarching message to myself. What's the point in coming to do these events if you're going to shy away when things get a bit hard?

The next 5 miles or so were the hardest. The ground was a bit crap, slippy, muddy, icy, camber pushing me off my feet. I could hardly stand up. Texting my friends as I went helped keep me going. As I couldn't run at the moment, it helped motivate me. Their positive messages and knowing that I was over half way. I could hike back in 5 hours if I had to.

15 miles to go...

Nothing much exciting to report except following a couple of guys and descending the wrong hill, a really fucking horrible one which I had to sit on my map and slide down. I got my map out for the first time and correcting myself, kept it out so as not to make any more irritating errors.

The last 10 miles were fantastic. I was running more consistently, some road miles meant I got through some miles a bit quicker, I was walking the hills now, any hills, anyone who runs long knows the score when it comes to any incline in the latter stages of a race! Finally finding another human to run with was great too! A guy Tim, caught up with me around this time and we chatted and ran the last 6 miles or so together - he'd also taken a tumble and hurt his knee but we both enjoyed the company and agreed to stay together unless either of us fell over, in which case we'd leave the other to rot ;-)

It was quite clear we would get in around 8hr 30 so we were both pushing each other to keep going to achieve this.

We crossed the finish line, me in bang on 8:30 and Tim a few seconds before.

I was thrilled to a) finish, b) finish well within my target time and c) win the ladies race! I managed to beat most of the men too which was a good feeling. Even if I'd been last in that time, I think I'd have been happy. It's a tough but incredible route and mostly I enjoyed it. There were points when I was looking for a way out and other times I would have accepted them.

My knee immediately swelled up and I began the painful hobble around to get changed and find some food - I was starving!

Thanks to my friends back home for keeping me motivated, although I might have shaved off a few minutes if I'd not been taking pics and chatting ;-)

The Social Media friendly Injury Book:

Thursday, 2 November 2017

A bit of an update

I've been struggling lately. My running has been ticking over, I have been making time for it as best as I can. Work has been all consuming for several months now and it recently reached a point where I just couldn't cope anymore. My way of dealing with this was to erupt in an explosion of stress and emotion that has been building up since I'd say April time, with threats to quit and tantrums. Those who know me, know I love my job, I love the company I work for, have a great boss but lately the load has gotten too much, too many times in recent months I've hidden in the toilets crying, spent nights awake worrying how I will ever get through the ever increasing pile of work landing in my inbox constantly and as a result and the work life balance has become way off kilter and I've had to make a promise to myself to do something pro-active about this, which is easier said than done.

I've also been hyper aware of the effect it has been having on my mental state and as such have been trying to ensure that I get out running even if for 20 - 30 mins, I try to meditate daily, read a bit more, avoid negative situations. I'm not really doing any quality sessions at the moment, I'm just ticking over but I feel as though it is keeping me from sliding in to the abyss I know that I'm capable of, for those who read my blog on depression a while back, no fear. I'm still in control of things. Though, I won't lie, I have been a bit concerned and have been forced to revisit the tools I have in my toolbox, however the units of alcohol and cigarettes has reached a bit of a peak which needs addressing separately.

I recently set up a Wednesday evening trail running group round some incredible woodlands not too far from where I live which has turned out to be pretty popular and has created a firm commitment in my diary to 1) look forward to and 2) tell my boss (and myself) that I need to leave on time that one day of the week.
Every week, I look forward to this, Conrad is generally taking charge of planning the routes and each week we've been treated to something different. There have been castles (apparently - it was dark, no castle was seen), windmills, canals, spooky woods, doggers, naked hikers and lots of fun. What's more, I've met some really nice new people to share this with who also seem genuinely happy to have a group of people to run round the woods in the dark with!

The weekend just gone, Doug and I took a trip to the Lakes for this years' OMM. We had entered the Short Score course this year as there was no D course. The day before, we had incredible weather. Crisp and Sunny and bright. We had to wait a few hours for our bus to the camp site so we took a walk and had a few beers.

We had the big tent for the night before which was much more comfortable than the little one man lightweight one we run with. We had a pretty decent sleep, improved more so by the late start time we'd been lucky to have.

We woke up the next day to high winds, and low cloud with lots of rain in. We packed up our stuff, packed up everything we'd need for the next 36 hours and headed to the start.

Taking our map and being released into the Lakeland hills we took a few minutes to make a vague plan. On paper the terrain looked not too bad - lots of accessible trails, lots of controls to choose from. We made a small error on the first one, overshooting the stream and searching around the wrong one for a time. We then climbed up a big fucking hill. The wind was whipping up as we climbed, and the clag was down, reaching the top a couple were coming towards us. They'd decided to retire as the wind was knocking them off their feet. Once over the top, I could see why. I was getting blown around all over the place but as we descended the other side the wind dropped as we were protected more by the high hills around us.

We had 5 hours to get as many check points as possible and managed to get a couple of high scoring ones. We took a risk on a 40 pointer, knowing it would probably make us late back (you lose 2 points per minute) but hoping that the net gain would be worth it.

The terrain was much harder than anticipated. The wet rocks made it technical, the winds made it cold the rain made our clothes heavy.

We made it back 13 minutes late and surprisingly in 31st place out of 137 and 6th mixed pair - for us, this was a very good result. We searched for a patch of grass that wasn't an inch deep in water, but the rain had stopped now and it was still light putting up our tent, in the water logged field.

We made some dinner and had a couple of cans of G&T and got our heads down for an early night - there's not much to do once it's got dark in a tiny tent barely big enough for one. The clocks also go back on OMM weekend so it's actually the one night of the year I get more than 12 hours sleep!

During the night, the rain and wind shook our tent, I was praying it would stay up so we didn't have to get out and fight the wind to peg it down. Fortunately it stayed put and we woke up around 7.30 to some noise outside (no bagpipes this year), made some coffee and breakfast, re-packed and headed to the start once more.

The weather today was entirely different! Beautiful clear skies, but bloody freezing.

The map didn't really offer much interest for me, we could either go back over the side we'd explored yesterday, which I wasn't keen on, or stay east and adventure a new area.

Doug wanted to go west, I wanted to go east. East won. However, immediately we found ourselves wrong, in a bit of an argument and wasting 25 mins trying to get to a relatively simple control. We bagged one more after traipsing across wide high fells into some crags.

The next control, looked fairly easy. However, taking for granted the trail, or was it a sheep track, or was it rain water run off? We spent the next 2 hours searching for a control in a crag. We only had 4 hours today and had only managed to get 50 points. If we got back in time, we'd retain them at least but then we thought we found the right crag. Alas, another wasted 30 minutes and a hurried return to the finish, saw us with 28 penalty points and dropping down the results table to 73rd!

Still, we had a lovely day, made it back in time for the coach, a beer and some dinner in the pub and a nice train journey home.

What's next? 2 weeks in Thailand, a 40 miler in Brecon and Doug has apparently put an entry in for Marmot Dark Mountains which is going to certainly test our nav and patience with one another! Then I'm going to have a good crack at a good London Marathon time.

Sunday, 8 October 2017

Bournemouth Half Marathon

It's not often that a race plan goes so well.

It was a Plan B of sorts mind.

I've been pretty under the weather the last few months, what I had thought was a "bit tired and run down" through excessive hours at work, limited sleep and general life stress had rung alarm bells with Robbie who sent me to the quack to get some blood tests.

I'd not lost my Mojo, not by any stretch. When I managed to find time to get out running I had a great time and had been getting out with lots of friends and loving it all. Just that I'd lost my get up and go, and anything more than an hour left me dragging myself along the floor with a sad face.

I got my blood test results back to find that my Ferritin level (which is some kind of precursor to Iron) was off the bottom of the scale. The doctor suggested this was why I've been feeling so shitty. She prescribed some Iron tablets and a recall blood test in 3 months to check my progress.

That was about a month ago now and already I'm feeling much better. I'm also making a conscious effort to  love myself a bit more, get more sleep, spend less time in the office, spend more time with the people that matter, pay better attention to my diet and lifestyle. You know. Grown up shit.

Swennyway. I'd entered this race only because Doug had entered the Marathon distance, I didn't really fancy a Marathon after the busy summer of mountain races and feeling quite crap. Having done Lakeland 50 at the end of July, followed by Ultraks Matterhorn at end of August, this hadn't really left much time to recover, do any kind of speed work and get "race fit" i.e. get a chance of a PB. At best it was going to be a nice weekend at the seaside.

We had a nice little mooch about Bournemouth on Saturday and watched the 10k race, then met an old friend Kris Duffy for Pizza and a catch up. He was doing the Marathon too.

We got an early night, although I took ages to get to sleep and had weird dreams. Probably from watching Stephen King films whilst going to sleep.

My race was starting at 8 and the others at 10. So unlucky for Doug he came to my start with me.

Earlier this week, Robbie and I had had a chat about goal setting for next year and discussed this race. Knowing that a PB was out of the question, he suggested that I aim or a negative split. I suggested that I do a progression run. (Meaning I would get faster over the course of the race.) Negative splits are the dream for any road runner. I've never achieved it. I've been crap at pacing forever. The closest I came was at Milton Keynes marathon where I ran an almost even split. So that was the goal. Of course, it can be achieved by walking for the first half but I still had some general time in mind (sub 1hr 40 would be awesome)

I hadn't fully decided what pace I'd set off at but that I'd increase my pace by 10 sec per km every half hour. I'd see what felt right on the morning.

Once I was at the start and nervous belly had settled I bounced around a bit and did some mobility stretches, the weather conditions were spot on and wind was low so I had no worries on that.

Soon we were off and I settled in to a 4:50 min/k pace. It felt really comfortable so I decided to stick to that. My legs kept trying to go a bit quicker but I kept an eye on my average pace to keep it at 4:50. Knowing that the next step would be 4:40, then entering the hurt locker at 4:30 and hanging on as best I could to the end.

As I hit the lap button and picked up to 4:40min/k pace it still felt *fairly* comfortable. I  let myself relax on any declines and tried not to knacker myself on the small inclines. I was overtaking people all the time now, the people who had set off too quick (how I normally do) and felt pretty smug!

Coming up to the hour mark I was around 8 miles in and knew there was a bit of a bastard hill coming up. I'd picked up the pace to 4:30, it felt fine on the flat but almost immediately it was time for the hill. Fuck me. It was a bastard. It wasn't that long - a few hundred metres but it near broke me. My pace dropped right off. I was gagging up over the top hoping that I'd be rewarded with a nice descent but it was a long flat/slight climb still so I continued to suffer and try to drag my average lap pace back to where I wanted it. It was dropping back gradually from 4:50 to 4:44 where it stayed. Damn it.

Finally I reached the descent. I let myself go, I'm pretty good at descending now after the mountain running I've been doing the last few years, took a few more places and managed to get my average pace back to around 4:32min/k and hold it there when I got back on the flat. But it wasn't entirely flat, it was about 1.5 miles of really slightly up. But it was an out and back so I was relying on it being a slightly down back. I only had a park run to go now, but it was hurting. Hurting hard. I tried to keep the pace on. I reached the first Pier and started down it, I  had dropped back to 4:33 pace, I relaxed a bit knowing that it was a slight descent to the next pier, come on, less than 2 miles.

Somehow I missed the last mile marker and was thinking that it was going to be a long half, I missed hitting the last 30 min lap split. It didn't really matter. I was trying to keep my form, trying not to piss myself, keeping my arms and legs pumping and focusing on getting to the end. I was struggling to keep the pace on but only had 0.6miles to go. I knew if I held on I could get in under 1hr 40. I rounded the end of the 2nd Pier and pushed hard for the last few hundred meters. I could see the clock time getting near to 1:40 and urged myself forward to get in under it. Knowing that my chip time would be a good minute or so better due to the delay at the start.

I got over the line, with sub1:40 on the clock and sub 1:39 on the chip. A decent negative split and almost the progression run I'd set out to do. The last split was 4:34 average pace.

I am over the moon. I've never run such a controlled and sensible half marathon. I normally do a massive positive split and hate myself for the last 10 miles.

I collected my bags, got changed and made my way to the beach to support Kris and Doug. Whilst I waited I took a little dip in the sea and enjoyed some amazing Autumn warm sunshine.

Doug and Kris both did amazing and we're all pretty happy with ourselves.

Next event for me is The OMM then a lovely 2 week trip to Thailand (naturally with a little adventure in it) to recharge my batteries after a crazy year.

Tuesday, 12 September 2017

It's OK not to be Ok.

I saw this on a running vest yesterday.

This post is a bit different to anything I'd normally write. It's the most personal thing I've ever written and first time possibly spoken about in depth.

I've thought long and hard about sharing this post and it's taken a long time and a lot of, not courage, something a bit more personal than that to write this.

Those close to me, know me well. They know my past and some of the personal experiences I've been through, I'm not writing it for attention or sympathy or anything of that ilk, just that I want to share some of my personal experiences and hopefully give others hope and perhaps a little agenda behind my love of running and of being free.

Mostly, it's to highlight that no matter what people see, they don't really see what is behind the self indulgence or dare I say bragging (yes, I know how my posts tend to come across). Self deprecation is something I'm pretty good at but not that good. My close friends see through that of course. I don't generally analyse things, maybe I should, maybe not doing so keeps me sane. Who knows.

Often people say, "how do you run for so long? Why do you do this? I don't understand how you can spend your spare time doing this."

Truth is... mainly, because I can. I have the fortune that I have the means and capability to do so, and for the best part I genuinely enjoy it.

Sometimes I think I hate it. But deep down, I know it's the thing that has kept me happy and "sane". It's lead me to many amazing friendships that without which, I don't know if I'd be around today. It's the one place that I literally have no thoughts. Some people find that strange. Some people run to be alone with their thoughts. I enjoy the emptiness I get in my head when I run. The purity of just being alive, on my own or enjoying the company of others.

News flash.
I've not always been 100% happy, but hey, who has?  For me, running and fitness in general has been a therapy through some tough times and I imagine it will for as long as I can put one foot in front of another.

Depression is something that generally people don't like to talk about. Thankfully it's become less taboo to talk about, which for those suffering is a life line. Depression is a word that people have become afraid of. Quite rightly, it's a terrifying illness. For those engulfed in it, from their own illness or from watching a loved one suffer from it. I have been in both camps at various points of my life.

For me, running was a remedy for some dark times. I'm sure it still helps me from dipping into the grey. It adds sun and rainbows and hope to the days when I feel utterly despairing of the apparent crappy days. It adds perspective. It gives me endorphins that I crave.

Rewind to several years ago. I had an amazing family, living with a great guy, a promising career ahead of me, wonderful friends, a zest for life, a natural ability for running.

Yet that was the view from the outside. What you couldn't see was the crippling sadness. There was no one thing responsible. There never is. I didn't even know why I was so sad.  There's probably one tiny insignificant thing that tipped me over the edge, maybe I missed the bus one day, or burnt my toast?

All that I really know was that life got too much for a time. Even now I can't pinpoint one thing. Not even a group of things, which maybe makes it difficult to explain. I was just "down in the dumps" (yes, there I said it. I'd punch me if I could) Lots of those months/years are still a bit of a blur. Some of the incidents are blurry, maybe because I choose to keep them that way.

Aside from a few occasions when I was at College and pretty unsatisfied with life and a few incidents of what people would label as "cries for help". The time I really remember anything of significance was a few years later, that looking back should have rung alarm bells to my mental health was sitting in a meeting staring and picking at a cut on my arm. Not really thinking (or caring) what the other people in the meeting must have thought. Vaguely remembering that I did it to myself some days previously. Staring at it made me feel somehow better. Somehow in control. Somehow satisfied that I was doing something to control my feelings of being out of control.

Some months later and after several other isolated and mostly hidden incidents, after taking an overdose of various OTC and stolen substances, I was sat in occupational health with the nurse, who to this day, I sincerely feel I owe my life to. She advised me to take some time off work, they would give me time to heal. To take some time to rebuild my serotonin. Go and do some yoga, go and run she said. That's right. She encouraged me to be active. Not to go home and waste away in bed, go and see a councillor, see if medication will help, spend time with people who care about me.

Something I'll always remember her explaining what serotonin is (our natural happy pill) was it is like a tap, constantly dripping, keeping your levels topped up. But if the plug starts to leak, or comes right out, it can't keep up. It just leaks right out again, and the elements that are eating away at the plug are taking it too low to manage any kind of hope or positivity. Of course I couldn't have refilled them without some help. I had a short period on medication. For me, it actually made me feel worse. It made me numb. I felt a sense of nothing. I preferred "feeling" something. Not to say for those months it didn't help, as 100% it did. Counselling for me didn't really help either, mainly because I didn't know what was "wrong" - sadly there's no magic formula of X + Y = Z.

What worked for me was running, cycling, fresh air. Of course there were days, I didn't open the curtains. There were days, I did nothing but cry. Not knowing why I was crying. "What's wrong with me?" I'd wail at no-one, cuddle my cat until he was soaking with tears. But only having that to deal with for a time really helped.

Of course, this didn't end the cycle of self harm. Various ways I found of controlling what I thought was my "problem". I had tried on occasion reasonably successfully methods to prevent self harming, using plastic bottles rather than my person. If you're reading this and struggling - it does help with the emotional release.

"I'm fat." That's the problem. I'd tell myself. Which of course lead to an eating disorder and ultimately the end of a relationship and not engaging in social events for probably years.

There are two stand out occasions which to this day both haunt me and remind me of the depth of this illness but also are why I know that I'll never let myself get to that place again.

1) Whilst in the grips of eating disorders and depression - my then boyfriend who I'd made a life with. His father had been suffering from lung cancer. The day of his death. I'm still ashamed, whether I should be, is neither here nor there and perhaps it highlights how this illness can be very lonely. Instead of racing home to be there for him, I was concerned that I'd not burned off enough calories that day so cycled an extra couple of miles. Then after the wake. Rather than be there to comfort him, I was concerned that I'd eaten one too many sandwiches and logging them in my calorie counter.

2) I shan't go into too much detail, but what was intended as nothing more than a small cut to give me the release I knew it would, ended up grappling a knife with my sister who was trying to stop me hurting myself. Instead I hurt her slightly and gave myself a deep wound that would stop me running for a significant period of time and for a long time, locking all sharp objects in the shed.

That for me was the turning point. Laid in hospital being sewn up by a pretty pissed off doctor, my sister and mum sobbing next to me. That was enough. I'd hurt people close to me. Literally. It scared me. I hadn't intended on any of it. It wasn't easy coming out the other side but fortunately I did.

Of course, the relationship ended, he moved out. I decided to make a clean start, change jobs, create new opportunities. I took up cycling, and triathlon (arguably a new obsession of control).

Looking back, aside from hurting my loved ones, the thing that had the biggest impact, selfishly, was not being able to run. That's what hurt the most. I had lost my freedom. My outlet. Of course, it was good to learn new outlets, I re-engaged with lost friends, I spent time helping others volunteering, other things that would improve my wellbeing and mental health. This in hindsight was a good thing and I'm fortunate compared to others. It meant that whilst running has become a huge part of my life, I have other things that I can focus on. So even if now that is taken away, I have the ability to exist without that crutch.

I was lucky. I had an incredible support network, OK they didn't understand - why would they? It's difficult to explain why you're self destructing. The tendon healed and I was soon back to jogging slowly. I could cycle again. The scar and damaged nerves is a permanent reminder for me though. If I'm ever feeling like I could be slipping again, I just need to touch that visible memory and I remember how far I've come and where I never want to be again.

Don't get me wrong. I'm still susceptible to negative thoughts and have had relapses some years ago but generally I know how to take care of my mental health. I'm hyper aware of the things that could impact it. I know what situations to avoid. Maybe I can't hide forever. Maybe I don't need to?

Why am I sharing this now? Today is National Suicide Awareness day.

It's shouldn't be taboo anymore. There are people in my extended friendship groups who I know are battling depression. I'm not trying to glorify it. I'm hoping that I can reach out to someone who is struggling to see there is light at the end of the tunnel. Particularly with social media, generally speaking I don't care what people think of me, unless I'm being a bad person, then, tell me. I think sometimes people assume I'm very "normal". We all have histories, and skeletons. I honestly think I've never been more emotionally stable, clearly to be able to share this - whatever that is!  Running isn't the answer for everyone. It's my therapy. After a long day. After a break up. After a fatty meal! Just to be alone with nothing to think about.  There's no magic potion. We are all very different. I was provided with various tools to deal with my illness. I learned to use those tools. Sometimes the tools need oiling.

Sadly, depression is something that is here. It's real. For you maybe. For someone you love. For someone you don't know is suffering. Let's talk about it. Someone may not appear to be suffering, it doesn't mean they aren't. We are all guilty of painting a pretty picture of the outside. No-one wants to hear the sad tales, we tend to turn a blind eye to that.

If there's one piece of advice I could give, is, find what makes you happy. Not what society thinks should make you happy. That's the superficial stuff that ultimately makes you sad. Cliché as it is - life is short. Find something that makes you happy.

I hope this helps at least one person. I'll be back to blabbing about my latest adventures soon :)

Thursday, 6 July 2017

Forgive me, for I have sinned......

It's been nearly a year since my last report.

That's not to say that I've been sat on my laurels. More that;

a) I'm not sure anyone really reads this bilge,
b) I've been pretty busy
3) Nothing spectacular has occurred.

A brief update of the last year in the world of my escapades.

After dining out on the Lakeland result for a good few days.... some recovery and plenty of downtime and frolicking. The next stop took me to on my first trip to Italy (if you exclude the detoured flight via Milan airport the previous year for my best friends Hen Do in Barcelona) and the brief trot through during the CCC.

At work a colleague had decided that TUI needed a running club (which was his way of getting some training in around a demanding job and having young children) and word reached him that I was fond of running so I and 2 others were engaged in completing a Leadership in Running Fitness (LIRF) course so that we could start our own running group and we would each be leaders. This meant that 2 days a week there was an option to run during lunch guilt free and block out an hour or so in our diaries to selflessly get others to love running! (this needs a blog of it's own)

Along with Doug and JZ, I'd entered UTMR a 110k very mountainous stage race in northern Italy. It was placed over 3 days over high altitude (for a southern lass) - there was an option to do it in one day, but if I'm honest, the 3 day option looked lovely. It was the 2nd year this event was run, and split into sociable chunks with actual hotels to stay in rather than camp sites it was luxurious! Doug and I had planned a holiday prior, where we started in Naples, and Sorrento and took an incredible stay/drive up to the Alps over a week, eating pizza, drinking Prosecco, visiting the most picturesque coastal towns I've ever seen, including the Almalfi Coast and the Cinque Terre (both of which I cannot ever unsee for their incredible beauty).

To be entirely honest, I can't recall all the events of the race, just that the three of us had the most incredible time. Generally we stuck together as a threesome, rooming together, enjoying banter and japes. The route was by far the most technical terrain over the distance and also the most beautiful, the mountains that just kept on giving, 1500m climbs topping out at 3000m and the longest most technical descents I've had to tackle. I've done the CCC round Mt Blanc previously and in comparison that is a race track of smooth trails this was rugged and challenging in new ways but also breathtaking and romantic....views of the snow topped mountains all around, the incredible weather we were blessed with, the wonderful company and finishers medals after 3 days were all that really matter. Also meeting the most incredible couple I've ever met, Russ and Delena from Canada, who were the most inspiring, honest and engaging people I think I've ever come across who were taking a sabbatical from their life in Canada to experience several months travelling around Europe running, cycling and generally loving life. I sincerely hope our paths cross again one day.

Whilst we were racing in Italy, the Lakeland 50 and 100 entries went live, and I think I mentioned before this event is like getting Glastonbury tickets so would sell out pretty quick (in under 30 minutes it turned out) and Doug and I had decided we'd do the mixed pairs if we could get a place. Sadly, as we were mid race we wouldn't be able to enter but our incredible support crew Issy and Ellen were on hand and there with auto-refresh and managed to blag us our slots for the following year! Hurrah!

Following UTMR Doug and I took our annual pilgrimage to The OMM, finally picking the right course for us - the D course where we got ourselves round with plenty of time to spare and placing 3rd mixed pair. We've come a long way from that first year we thought the B course would be a "piece of piss"!

A fairly quiet winter lead to a month of sickness, so the first race I'd planned in January (the rough and tumble back in my homelands) was sacked off. The next "A Race" was London Marathon.

I'd said to Robbie before Christmas that this year I needed to focus on my career so the plan was to focus on short good quality training so it didn't take up too much of my life. We met Robbie in Feb/Mar time for a 10k race in Goring where he joked that basically I was doing a 10k race plan (because I had to keep dropping runs short or doing more interval training than normal) - this seemed not to be too terrible after claiming 6th lady in a large field at Goring 10k. Some solid 5k times, a 7th place at a local 10k trail race and generally much more consistency than we've seen in a long while.

Early March saw the first official "TUI Trotters" outing at Milton Keynes Festival of running - there was a 5k, 10k, half marathon and 20 mile event which was great because it meant that it was inclusive for all of the gang in the running club. I took on the 20 miler and had a prettty decent day out, a nasty hill over the last couple of miles nearly broke me but running most of the race with Doug, Lyndon and Andrew set me up for a PB and a good target for London (2hr 39 and some change)

Mid March - and a month out from London Marathon and my 2nd longest run this year - I treated myself to a birthday 16 mile trail race near where I live - it was, let's say.... insightful! I text Robbie after to say how badly it went - but he called me up and gave me a pep talk - it was equivalent of the 20 mile road run that would normally be in a Marathon plan but without the hard tarmac impact and plenty of hills to add. Naturally I'd set out too hard, turned up hungover and underfed (getting my excuses in there)

Now, a few weeks out from London and about to embark on the taper... my friend at work who was also running London as about my start time - as I'd secured a good for age place from the previous year I'd seen lots of spam emails coming in to my inbox and being too busy left them to read at a later date.

Issy and Ellen were coming up to watch so I decided I should check start times etc. so I did a search in my inbox for London marathon details.... I found lots of info, about training about this and that.... i found my GFA acceptance - unread because I didn't need to read that, right??


My heart skipped a beat.

I opened the email to check the email from last June.

"Congratulations. You have been successful, click this link to complete your entry."


A phone call to London marathon confirmed my fears. I hadn't finalised my entry, I'd not paid. I was not in.

I text Robbie.

Pragmatic as ever.

Milton Keynes marathon is two weeks after.

A quick check of my diary. Hmmm.... Doug and I were entered for The OMM Lite.

"Doug..... how do you fancy doing MK Mara instead of The OMM?"


Long and short, we entered MK, The OMM transferred our entry to The OMM in October.

MK Marathon, went like a dream for me. The extra two weeks training clearly paid off. I smashed my target of getting a sub 3:30 and placed 7th lady.

Since MK, there has been park runs, a few track races (5000m, 3000m) some 10k races and a 10 miler where I've placed well.

However, now that Lakeland is coming round, there is a distinct lack of hill aptitude compared with last year. Work has become increasingly challenging and a Desk to 5k course with the TUI Trotters has meant that the lunch time running hasn't been as useful as I'd have liked.

So, with budgets due, a lot of long nights in the office, a few overeas trips this month - Snowdon race next weekend and Lakeland 2 weeks later, who knows what is going to happen! It might end up being a couple of nice weekends away hiking in the hills. Which in itself, isn't a terrible thing.

P.S I have DEFINITELY got my GFA place sorted for next year!

Friday, 12 August 2016

Lakeland 50

"Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity" this is something my old swim coach used to say, which is profound and try to live by. I'm not someone who believes in luck. Weirdly, I was also a fucking awful swimmer, so some might say it's luck that I didn't drown during my triathlon days, I say I worked fucking hard for months at swimming, to still be a fucking awful swimmer (but not drown).

I've been bouncing around like a kid for 2 weeks (and the rest) looking forward to this race. I get like this when I know I've worked hard for something. I'm not just talking running. Anything. That satisfaction you get heading into something knowing that you're really prepared. That you've done all you can to achieve the best you can on the day.

I'd shared some of my goals with friends, one of them being Doug. With his only hill session in the last few months being Snowdon race he wasn't feeling too confident. I tried not to let his doubts rub off on me though. He was throwing around estimates like better than 18 hours but more than 12 he'd be happy. To which I was thinking, "Well, I'm not waiting for you. See you at the finish then punk!"

I know Doug well. We've raced and trained together for years. He was sandbagging of course (this is the man, that told only a few people he was doing an Ironman; until he came home with a medal and an exceptional time!)

I'm not sure he completely believed I'd achieve my goals but he is also pretty competitive when it comes to the two of us. If we're doing a half marathon or a 5k he'll totally disregard his goal pace and run just on my shoulder for a while before overtaking and staying just far enough ahead that I can't quite catch him.

Obviously we're also a fantastic team when it comes to expeditions and mountain marathon team events and are well matched pace wise and know how to look after one another when required.

Two of my oldest and dearest friends; Ellen, Issy and the gorgeous German Shorthaired Pointer, Milton somehow got talked into a "trip to the lakes". I'm pretty sure I told them what we were doing and that they wouldn't see much of us on Saturday but we'd have HEAPS of fun on Friday and Sunday. When the reality  transpired I'm pretty sure they felt they'd been missold PPI. 

Ellen, Issy and Milton were driving up from the West Country and Doug and I from the east, we'd discussed plans and thought we'd all be up there by say 3pm. In time to register, catch up with familiar friends, see off the 100 mile runners and have a jolly old afternoon and evening. 

What actually happened was an 8+ hour journey up the M6 with every other fucker that was deciding on a lovely northern summer break that same Friday. 

We found time to share some banter though.

It was stressful to say the least. Doug and I arrived just in time to see the kids mile race off(they're swift!) sadly we missed the 100 start, which was a shame as we had some friends running. We registered and I got a text from Issy saying they were still 2 hours away. *sob* .


We got our numbers, weighed in (one at a time fatty!) etc then headed off up to the B&B I'd booked us all into. I put the address into Google Maps as I received a tearful call from the girls (well Issy was tearful, Ellen was hysterically laughing in the background). 

They were still 90 mins away. We'd been trying to get hold of the b&b to let the, know we were late. But to no avail. So, stressed that the girls were upset, the B&B may have given our rooms away (had I even indeed got a booking!) and it was getting near to the kitchen shutting time in the pubs. 

Doug and I drove on a bit crabby at each other. Agreed we'd check in, get to the pub and order pizzas to take away for the girls. I tried once more to call the B&B and finally got through. "What booking?"
"Um.... 4 beds and a dog, under Buckingham?"


It's fine. We'll get there and it will all be fine. My battery was on 3%, Doug's was on 0% the car charger had stopped working.

Finally we found the B&B, Doug waited in the car whilst I ran in.

Only to be told, this was not the B&B we had booked. We were in Keswick. The place we should have been was not far from where we had been an hour ago, in Burness, Berwick, Somewhere beginning with fucking "B".

I sloped back to the car to Doug's hopeful face and told him the bad news. He was mad. I tried to make a call. To who? I don't even know. My phone died.

I got the map out of the back of the car and looked up where we should be.

We drove in silence back the entire way we'd come. Doug was seething. I was sheepish. Better to get the nav errors out the way BEFORE the race, right?

I suddenly realised my work phone was in the car and had battery so I waited for signal and tried a number from the CORRECT B&B. I got through eventually. She'd been trying to call us (on our dead mobiles)
I didn't have Issy or Ellen's numbers on this phone so sent them a facebook message to say we'd see them in the pub.

Anyway, long and short. We all managed to check in, and get to the pub for a right jolly old time before they stopped serving. All we could do was laugh about it. (well once we got a pint in front of us)

We ate pizza, caught up on our shitty travels and drank beer then walked back to the B&B to pack kit bags whilst drinking Red Stripe, some more dicking about and get to bed.

The race wasn't an ungodly start so we didn't have to get up too early, but it was too early to get breakfast at the B&B. There was a briefing at 8:30 which we were just in time for. Unfortunately the hall was overflowing (annoyingly supporters were in there taking up space of runners so we couldn't get in) so we fettled with bags, stuck race numbers on, went to the toilet again and again. Doug realised he'd lost his road book (mandatory) so after the race briefing I went in search of a spare. I bumped in to Conrad, from my running club, gave a quick hug and said I'd see him on the bus (I didn't)

Several buses were waiting in the car park to take all 650+ runners to the start at Dalemain. Just about to get on, I saw Richard Leahy. I had no idea he was running today. We'd not seen him since sharing a tent at Dragon's back. We all hugged and greeted each other and caught up on the coach until I felt a bit queasy and had to spend the rest of the journey pretending to sleep.

We reached Dalemain and I began to get excited. It was still an hour or so until the off so we had plenty of time to go to the toilet and even get a coffee and shortbread. The 100 racers were coming through their halfway point and about 1000 people were cheering them through. It must have been a great feeling for them (despite being 50 miles into a 100 mile race and having been up running all night!)

Before long we were being called into the starting pen. I bumped into Conrad once more with his friends (more on one of them later). Richard, Doug and I shimmied our way nearer the front of the pen and enjoyed the atmosphere and then before we knew it the countdown begun 10....9....


I shot off. I wanted to make a good start but not blow up. Before long, I could see that I was in the top section of the women, 3rd or 4th place. I tried not to get too exciting. It was only a few hundred meteres into a long day. Calm down Bucks. Even though I knew the route well from Dalemain, there was an added 4 miles round the estate to make the route up to 50 miles and it was far from flat.

I set a good pace for myself. Doug wasn't overtaking yet. After a mile or so Richard came past me, he kept intermittently stopping to fiddle with his calf guards, it later transpired he was getting thistles stuck in them.

The ground was uneven in places, thick grass like running through sand, the odd climb and descent. Before we knew it we were running back through the start area (also the CP area for the 100s) to huge cheers from the supporters and racers feeding and resting. I heard her first, then spotted Jenni in the CP pen (Jenni was doing the 100  miler. I'd been following her progress through the night and she was doing amazing, slowly picking her way up the rankings) I ran to her and gave her a big squeeze, she screamed in my ear and I was off again. Now on the route proper.

Doug had caught up with me about 2 miles ago and we were running together, ticking off milestones already "5% done... that's a park run"

Now out of the crowds I ducked behind a bush to go for a slash, letting Doug go off ahead. Also grateful to a bit of a breather. Not interested in pushing any harder (I already thought maybe I'd gone off a bit quick)

I ran back on, not worrying about catching up with Doug. I knew now I had gone off too hard. I love the section over to Howtown at CP1 and ran merrily in convoy of the 60 or so runners in front of me. I knew I was currently 3rd lady. Running through the single track before Pooley bridge I was grinning. These trails remind me of happy times mountain biking. I ran on through Pooley Bridge where huge crowds were cheering everyone through. I saw Rachel Ball yelling at me as I ran by, who I'd not actually met in real life until today. She was meant to be running but was injured but her partner was running so she was out supporting. I'd been watching her from afar on social media. We are of a similar standard and I had thought she'd be my closest rival and had been looking forward to running with her/against her.

Photo Credit: Rachel Ball

Already, I'd realised I'd forgotten to tape an area of my foot prone to blistering (which I'd told myself on my last recce to not forget to tape up) the inside of my right arch was rubbing. Do I deal with it now or hope it doesn't get any worse? It'll be fine. I'm sure. I don't want to waste 5 minutes so early in the race.

From here we met our first significant climb, on the road. Last time I was here I'd ran the whole way up and even managed getting a good Strava Segment position! I let myself have a walk when I felt I needed it. No point in blowing up too soon. I could see little dots climbing up across the fell to the right of the road and couldn't wait to be up there. Its an odd gradient, from below it looks fairly steep but when you're on it, you can run and run. I could see Doug not far ahead but still I didn't want to push to catch him. I finally reached the top of the road climb having overtaken several people, going past some of the 100 milers, cheering them on the way past. I was back on trail now and grinning once more. I ran on and on knowing the route well. Walking when it climbed steeply briefly, to catch my breath then running on once more. The route plateaued and started to gradually descend. Some mountain bikers were patiently waiting to get past so I pulled over to let them through.

I could see another lady on my shoulder as I started to run on again. I was pushing as hard as was comfortable on the descent and let her go by after a brief fight. She was much better at descending than me, even on this non-technical section.

Now, not far from the Check point, I dared to look at my watch. My pace was way up on any of the training runs at 5:39km/h pace which for this terrain was to me, really good. I rolled into the checkpoint in 1hr 35 having covered 11.5 miles and saw Doug stuffing snacks in his face and leaving the CP.

I grabbed a handful of sweets filled my cup with coke and went straight back out again. Before long I caught up with Doug.

The next section is pretty long through to Mardale Head, probably my least favourite section. A colossal climb up then a plateau (the bit I keep going wrong on) a steep descent down then an unexpectedly technical 6/7 km lakeside run. On paper the lake section looks like it should be easy but it's rough rocks, short steep ups and downs and ankle breaking cambers.

Doug and I were now together, we were feeding off each other's pace. We knew this next few k was going to be more of a hike and took the opportunity to get our heart rates down, get some food in and try not to lost any places.

It was much easier to follow the route with people in front than on my recces and found myself at the top pretty soon.

As we reached the plateau, I could feel my stomach tightening and the unpleasant feeling of needing the toilet (sorry!) I'd taken some shitstop before we started as I'd had a bit of an excited tummy! So that may have taken some of the edge off.

I was annoyed as the plateu was a lovely easy run, gradual descent but my tummy was in knots so I had to keep breaking into a hike. I was looking around for somewhere I could relieve myself but it was just open hill tops with people intermittently passing me by as I pulled my pace right back.

By now a few women had overtaken me, but I couldn't do much about it. I knew I'd gone out too hard to start, all I could do was slow down, and get some fuel in before I bonked. I tried to eat some malt loaf (which in training had been amazing) but it just stuck to my mouth and throat and I wretched. This wouldn't do. I had some bloc shots so managed to wash one of those down with water.

Before long the route dropped steeply towards the lake and I spotted in front a familiar slender shape. The long legs, long blonde hair of Jenn Gaskell. I shouted down to her, she didn't seem quite her normal cheery self but was trying her best to be upbeat I could tell. I'd been watching her progress last night too and she was doing amazing in the top 10 of the 100milers. She said she thought I was 8th or 9th lady or something and wished me well and I was gone down the tricky slope towards the lake.

Still I needed the toilet, my tummy hurt so much. Every time I thought I found a good spot, someone came past or I noticed a big drop off the edge of the trail I was bound to fall down.

We'd been going for 2.5 hours now, and I assumed Doug was far ahead. Despite my tummy ache I was having an amazing time. I was making good time, all I had to do was try not to shit myself and not run out of fuel. I wasn't drinking quite enough and the day was warm but not unpleasantly. Lots of people passed me during this section. I was picking my way over the technical rocks, me and another guy were competing for the worst descending award. (I won)

Finally the trail opened up a little and I could see farther ahead and the trail curving round towards CP2 in the distance. I thought I could see Doug too, but couldn't be sure. Around a km from the CP, I could definitely see Doug. He wasn't moving at all well. I became concerned. I was running a little better now and was gradually gaining on him. I caught him just as he entered the check point.

He was in a bad way. He'd bonked. He'd run out of water some time ago (annoyed that I hadn't caught him and shared mine) he'd run out of fuel and felt (and looked) like shit.

I left him getting sandwiches and cup after cup of coke, whilst I finally got to relieve myself as there was a portaloo at the CP. I felt better immediately. Also aware I was a bit low on energy I necked a couple of cups of coke. Checked Doug was OK, offered to stop a while here if he wanted to but he knew I wanted to crack straight on so he stubbornly left with me. I made him take a jam sandwich and took one for myself before thanking the CP staff and setting off up the next big climb.

(it seems to be standard practice to have a big climb after a checkpoint, which is good because you can stuff your face whilst hiking up it, I noticed this when doing Trans Wales MTB race too )

We chatted and Doug explained he'd bonked, totally run out of energy, gone off too fast (much like myself) run out of water and was feeling horribly sick and looking a bit unhappy and worried he might not be able to finish.

I hated seeing him like this, but despite my untrustworthy stomach I felt fairly good myself so didn't want to slow up too much, my legs were strong and mind positive. I led the way up the climb. Doug stopped to heave. I held back with him to rub his back (and hold his hair out of his face) but nothing came. We carried on a bit further. Doug stopping every so often to heave up non-existent bile. He asked if we could stop for 1 minute, so we stopped on a rock, I counted down with my stopwatch a minute, while Doug tried hard to be sick.

We started to move again, I started to push on ahead of him up the hill, stopping now and then to eat and check back he was OK. He saw and would wave me on. I knew he was trying desperately to keep up. He didn't want to be left behind and I didn't really want to leave him behind in this state.  I knew up over the top of the climb was a big descent down, Doug is faster downhill than me so I kept pace knowing he'd catch me.  The descent was tough. It was steep with lots of loose rock. The braking that my reflexes made me do hurt my legs more than the climbs.

The descending was jiggling my insides too much, my tummy was hurting again. I had to stop and find a bush. I found one. Whilst taking care of business Doug came past looking pretty worse for ware not seeing me, I shouted out and told him I'd catch him up.

Once more we were together, my tummy still in knots, Doug trying to force up some of his stomach lining. What a pair.

I knew the route well into Kentmere so felt confident leading the way. Just before Kentmere we bumped in to the legendary David Lee who we have met every year on the Spine sat on a wall cheering people on and taking photos.

Photo Credit: David Lee

We rolled into Kentmere and found Richard who had been there chilling out for about 10 minutes. We necked a smoothie, grabbed some biscuits, refilled water bottles, and were back on our way. My knees were beginning to ache alittle so we took a painkiller each up the next climb.

We were both beginning to feel better now and I was able to describe the next part of the route.  A climb followed by an amazing flowing descent into Troutbeck. My blister was getting pretty sore now so on the next steep descent I decided to stop and tape it up. I was just ahead of Doug at this point having reached the top of the climb ahead of him, and stopped on the side to deal with my ouchie. I shouted once more I'd catch him up. A few minutes later I scurried down the hill to him. We were on a painful rocky river bed. It wanted to be run on, but it hurt your feet so bad so we ran where we could. We reached a corner where I needed a wee. Doug took this opportunity to have one last purge. This one seemed to finally fix him. As we ran the next section in to Ambleside he was finally back to himself. Bouncing along, telling crappy jokes and singing me songs.

We ran through Ambleside full of beans and huge crowds, Once more Richard was there having been chilling for a while. A quick stop to refuel and we were back on our way. We walked for a while whilst we ate, and back up yes another hill before getting on to open moors.

I knew this next 15 miles was largely runnable. A couple of big climbs interspersed with lovely flat trails. Up the next climb, Richard joined us, and we all chatted. I led the way as I knew the route from memory, and we happily ran together through Chapelstile, finding a few minutes to play on a swing, before heading back on to the moor and a short sharp climb up followed by a wonderful piece of singletrack to a mandatory unmanned checkpoint (so you don't cheat and take the road)

We stumbled across a swing and I couldn't resist a little play (and also a sit down)

From here we were only a few km from the last CP. I had been watching my clock. I knew we could get in, in under 11 hours. But we had to push. I suggested this to Doug but he didn't want to entertain it. I knew on a good day I could do the last section in 45 minutes. So even if we left ourselves an hour we could do it.

We hit the final CP with 1:05 to spare to get that sub 11. We had a quick snack, and got back on with it.

It's a brutal finish, straight up a set of steps. The you climb up nearly 300m over the next 1.5 miles. I was watching my watch. The light had faded and we had our headtorches on. Mine immedeiatly flashed that the batteries were dying. I didn't want to stop to change them and waste time. I'd just manage with what light was left and the dim setting from my headlamp.

The descent is equally horrible off the summit and I picked my way carefully down in the half light trying not to get too left behind. Back off the rocks and on the final steep descent, I let myself go, catching up with Doug and both of us catching Richard.

I knew now we'd be under 11 hours for sure. (unless anyone face planted now) My headtorch was slipping so I carried it in my hand. We ran hard into Coniston euphoria beginning to fill us.

Round the corner from the finish, I could hear cheering and above all of that the loudest screaming!!! I saw some commotion to my left and heard then saw Issy and Ellen screaming and jumping around and vaguely gave them a hug as they ran into the finish with us screaming with joy and bouncing around like women possessed!!

We ran through the finish, dibbed out and received more hugs and screaming and the BEST EVER FINISH to a race!

We were ecstatic. We'd done well. We knew we had. We weren't ashamed to admit it.

What an incredible support team. What a team Doug and Richard were. I ended up 9th female and we were all in the top 100 out of 672 runners.

Team work makes the Dream work! Photo credit: Richard Leahy

After the race we headed back to the B&B, drank a couple of bottles of fizz and the girls filled me in on the day they'd had...

Incredibly happy runners

They'd had a wonderful day, walking around the lakes with Milton, Waiting at Ambleside check point, just missing out on seeing us through, but having the fortune of glimpsing "a really hot Viking looking guy, blonde, blue eyes and an incredible moustache and beard"  this ended up in a several day search on social media for him #findviking.

We found him, and it ended up being Conrad's mate.

They'd been in the pub,

chatting to the winners,

and Milton had been getting all the attention - hardly surprising - look at that beaut!

The next day we had a nice walk around Ambleside, refuelled and enjoyed the sunshine.

All in all it was a wonderful weekend. If you discount the travel issues. (the girls ended up getting home via an AA van.... )

What an adventure, what a support team, what a result!

Could I have improved on this time? I don't think so. Had I gone off slower, I may not have got tummy probs for a while, maybe I still would have. Maybe that saved the race for me as I was forced to slow down. Really, I don't feel like I would have done anything differently. On the day, it all came together, we were blessed with perfect running conditions to boot!

Can't wait for the entries for next year to open!

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This latest blog will be hopefully following my transwales experience. Enjoy with me :-)