Category: running

Fundraising and abject terror (not necessarily in that order)

On By 00snookIn challenge weymouth, Chestnut Tree House, cycling, fundraising, running, swimmingLeave a comment
As my wife posted on Facebook this morning, today marks one month until my Ironman race.

30 days to be precise.  I have reacted to this information with abject terror.  A chill ran down my spine when I read her post.  It really actually is 30 days.  There is no way around it.  30 days from now at 6.30am I will be dressed in a wetsuit, swim hat and goggles.  Along with my friends Mike and Bushy I will run into the sea at Weymouth to start 16 hours of non stop exercising. I am genuinely shaking at the thought.

Yesterday I felt fine.  My training has been going OK, I managed the Half Ironman reasonably well and my confidence was fairly high.  Today I am panicking.  I think that self doubt is inevitable when it comes to undertaking such a huge challenge; however I have never felt as nervous as this before.  God only knows what I am going to be like in 30 days time.

Anyway enough of me being a Nervous Nigel.  I have a some people to thank.  

4 weeks ago now a group of people got together for a party.  The party was a garden games party, hosted by Jean and Vince who are soon to become my sister’s in-laws.  They have held summer games parties for a while; however this year they decided to raise some money for Chestnut Tree House.

Fantastic Gardens
They were inspired by the same thing I was, the story of Louise, Steve, their daughter Amber and the amazing support that Chestnut Tree House provided to them.  If it hadn’t been for my sister telling Jean and Vince about the Ironman and Chestnut this fundraising event would not have happened, but boy am I glad it did.

It was an amazing sunny day in the simply beautiful gardens of Jean and Vince’s Sussex home.  Their friends had come to play games and raffle off some amazingly generous prizes that had been donated.  All proceeds to go to Chestnut Tree House.

Ball flinging game.
Jean and Vince were amazing hosts.  Vince had done an amazing job building all the games and Jean was on simply superb form entertaining everybody.  My parents were also on hand to help with the games, make a few sandwiches etc.  Louise and Steve came along with their son Owen and Steve gave a simply beautiful speech about Amber, Chestnut Tree House and the wonderful work that they do.  It brings a tear to my eye just thinking about it.  If I can harness 1% of the strength that Steve and Louise have shown since the loss of their little daughter I will have no trouble at the Ironman at all.  

Raffle – Jean and Vince standing up
The whole day was brilliant.  Once the raffle was completed and the dust had settled, between everybody who attended we had raised £630 (or £787.50 if you include Gift Aid) which is simply phenomenal.

A massive and heart felt thank you to all those who attended and raised such a brilliant total for Chestnut Tree House.  Especially big thank you to Jean and Vince and everybody who helped them out to make the day go so perfectly.

Basketball game.
Chestnut Tree House is the ONLY children’s hospice in Sussex and South East Hampshire.  Without the support of charity fundraisers and private donations they would not run.  Without Chestnut, there would be NO help for life limited children and their families throughout the entire of Sussex and South East Hampshire. NONE!

My aim through these Ironman endeavours is to pay for a days care at Chestnut.  It costs them £6850 to stay open for just one day.  As I write this I have raised £3,381.80, which is 49% of my target.  If you would like to donate please visit my Just Giving page and give what you can.  It simply means the world to me and the families that Chestnut Tree House supports.


Thanks All.

James



Halfway there in the rain – The Owler Middle Distance Triathlon

On By 00snookIn 70.3, challenge weymouth, cycling, Middle distance Triathlon, running, swimming, The Owler, triathlonLeave a comment

It’s 06:15 on Sunday 26th July and unusually my alarm has not gone off.  Must be time for the Owler Middle Distance Traithlon.

The reason is that my alarm was not needed was because I was in bed with my oldest little girl Niamh and we had both been up since 5am.  We are staying in Hythe, Kent, to house-sit for Cat’s Dad and Girlfriend and make sure that Cat’s 15 year old brother Miles doesn’t burn the house down.  Niamh is sleeping in a different bedroom than usual.  Crucially it has a double bed in it and no blackout curtains.  As such she gets up when the sun gets up (about 5am) which also means that either Cat or I get up at that time too.  Luckily for me I had to be up early so no real harm was done.

The Owler Triathlon was held in Ashford, at the Julie Rose Stadium.  Breaking from tradition I had organised all my gear the night before and even put the bike in the car, so it was a relaxing morning getting ready and then driving on the backroads from Hythe to Ashford to ensure that I avoided Operation Stack.

Half way through setting up pre-race.

Arriving in plenty of time for the 08:30 start I registered and made my way down to the transition area.  This was situated on the outer edge of an athletics track and made for a fairly spectacular location.  There was plenty of space in transition with individually marked out bays for your bike and plenty of marshals on hand.  I was number 73 and struck up conversation with number 72.  He had done the Owler Middle Distance Triathlon a couple of years before and said it was a great event, well organised and well supported.  It certainly seemed that way so far to me too. 

At this point I would like to clarify something.  There is nothing “middle” about a “middle distance triathlon”.  It is named in rather a confusing manner.  The order of difficulty (increasing distance) in triathlon goes Super Sprint, Sprint, Standard (also known as Olympic), Middle (also known as Half Ironman or 70.3) and then Full (also known as Ironman, Iron Distance).

The “middle” distance is also known as 70.3 because this is the number of miles that you cover during the race.  Just to make things simple I work in kilometres so will describe it in that for you.

1.9km swim
90 km bike ride
21 km run (half Marathon)

It is exactly one half distance of the race that I have been building up for, Challenge Weymouth in September.  One half of an Ironman.  Not to be under estimated.  Some people train for years just to attempt a half Ironman.  I had less than 2 years training behind me and only 5 previous triathlons of any length.  Gulp!  Anyway back to the plot……….

Chatting away to number 72 we were soon warned that it was time to make our way down to the lake for the swim.  The lake was only a short walk away and would be my first lake swim of the year.  Following on from the briefing I made my way into the water and was surprised how cold the lake was.  I was glad to be in my wetsuit.  Positioning myself at the back of the swim bunch to try and avoid getting bashed about too much the countdown of 3-2-1 was heard and we were off.

Swim Course

Advice from absolutely everybody regarding the longer distance traithlon’s (Half and Full Ironman) is to take it easy at the start.  There is no point in going all out in the swim and using up too much energy, especially as a few minutes gained in the swim can be made up much more easily on the bike or the run.  “Nice and slow” I was thinking to myself as I swam straight into the feet of the swimmer in front.  It was murky in the lake and visibility was not good at all.  I picked my way through a few swimmers as best I could, got kicked a few times in the ribs and an elbow to the side of my face.  I couldn’t help but smile.  This is what triathlon is all about.  The idea of getting kicked in the face whilst swimming would probably terrify most people.  To us triathletes it simply means the race has begun!

Settling down into my swim I concentrated on getting into a rhythm and sighting (lifting my head up to see where I was going) every 6 strokes.  I felt good in the water and despite swimming through some very thick weed and a swan almost landing on my head I was steadily overtaking a few people.  Simply concentrating on swimming smooth, I rounded each buoy in turn.  Bizarrely I ran aground when passing past the middle island on the final part of the swim.  There was big pile of gravel under the water which my arm hit.  It was just deep enough to slide over using my hands to push me along and then I was off again.  Round the final buoy I turned left, swam a short distance to the shore where I was helped out of the lake by the marshals and then it was a short run back to the athletics track and into T1.

Before the race I had decided to replicate my Ironman tactics in total, so in T1 I needed to change out of my wetsuit into my bib shorts and cycling top ready for the bike leg.  Arriving at my bike I already had the top half of my wetsuit off.  Quickly getting it off my legs I threw on my dry robe (think large hoodie made of towel material with the arms cut off) over my head and pulled my bib shorts on.  Taking the dry robe off, I realised my shorts were inside out.  Back on with the dry robe (to hide my modesty) I then turned the shorts round the right way and put them back on.  Dry robe off again, I realised my shorts were back to front.  Muttering an obscenity under my breath it was back on with the dry robe once more, then finally my shorts were on correctly.  I clipped on my heart rate monitor, my cycling jersey was zipped up, helmet and shoes on and I was on my way out of T1.  Good thing to, as I had been there for about 25 minutes and I think the marshals were wondering if I was going to make camp.

Before the race I had set an alert to go off on my Garmin if my heart rate went over 155 beats per minute.  The idea behind this is to make sure that you keep your heart rate low, allowing you to maintain an endurance pace for longer as you are not over exerting yourself. As I was reckoning on it taking me at least 3.5hours on the bike endurance was definitely the name of the game.

Off onto the bike course my Garmin was going beserk.  It was constantly alerting me that my heart rate was over 155 and I was barely pedaling.  I was convinced it was malfunctioning (something it does only too well) and was getting frustrated with the constant bleeping alarm.  Luckily, I was soon to have something more important to worry about, as after about 9 minutes of cycling my rear wheel went flat.  This was not good news; however these things happen. I carry a spare inner tube and this was good practice for if it happens at Weymouth.

Pulling over I set about changing the wheel, accompanied by the constant bleeping of my heart rate alarm.  All was going well until I went to pump up the replaced inner tube with my CO2 cartridge and rather than the CO2 coming out when I want it to (using the switch on the CO2 dispenser) it just started whizzing out.  I quickly got the end of the nozzle onto the valve but the CO2 was running out already and I barely got 40PSI into the tyre.  I run my tyres at around 100PSI and the difference would be clearly noticeable.  Anyway there wasn’t much I could do.  I didn’t have a normal pump or any more CO2 so it was time to get back on the bike and get on with the race.  I had wasted over 12 minutes changing this inner tube and with 22 minutes of the race gone I had barely covered 3km.  Not quite the start to the bike leg I was looking for.

Almost exactly as I got back on the bike it started to rain.  Rain had been forecast, but as I own absolutely no wet weather cycling gear I decided to just race in my normal stuff.  This would turn out to be a mistake, but more of that later.  The rain falling and my under inflated rear tyre made the bike handle like a rodeo bull, but thankfully I managed to stay upright until I reached the village of Wye where there were some marshals stationed.  “Have you got a pump” I shouted as I rode towards them.  “Certainly do, Joe Blows” they cheerfully shouted back and then got out their Joe Blows (this is a genuine brand of bike pump) and topped me up to 100PSI.  One of them kindly gave me a spare CO2 cartridge and then I was off, with a properly pumped up rear tyre.

Bike Course

At this point it was raining hard and I was already getting cold.  There was nothing for it though than to just keep pedaling.  I was very conscious not to go too fast to try and make up for lost time.  I just kept up a steady rhythm, concentrating on riding smoothly and keeping an eye out for potholes, manhole covers and any other hazards that become infinitely more hazardous in the rain.   Exchanging some words with a few of the riders I was overtaking I was really feeling good mentally, but extremely cold physically.  The good part about this was I felt like I was putting in hardly any effort.  I had turned off my heart rate monitor shortly after my puncture and was riding purely on feel.  This is where my training really started to pay off.  I was used to the feel of steady exertion.  All the hours in the saddle meant that I knew how hard I could push for what length of time.  Somewhere inside my brain I knew that I was at a sustainable pace.  I knew that I would make the bike course and get to the run.  There were a few very scary moments, including a big rear wheel slide on a fast downhill but other than that things were going well.  I also lost a water bottle as it slipped from my hand towards the end of the bike leg, so rode the final 25km with no liquid refreshment.  

The major issue was the cold.  My feet had gone numb after only about 45 minutes of riding and had stayed numb.  I had lost feeling in my fingers and my quads were absolutely freezing.  Out of all of these, the quads were worrying me the most.  My quads like to cramp on the run stages of triathlons.  Starting a run with them freezing cold was not going to help.

Despite the cold I was amazed to finish the bike leg in around 3hrs 30 minutes, which was bang on my target time despite the puncture.  Climbing off the bike and into T2 I felt pretty good.  Sadly I had to change clothes again.

Remember the dry robe from before?  Well this was no longer dry.  It was absolutely soaking having sat out in the rain for hours, as was pretty much everything else.  The only things I had managed to keep dry was a pair of socks and my trainers.  Struggling under the soaking wet dry robe, it was off with the cycling gear and on with the running gear.  The dry socks and trainers felt like heaven on my freezing feet.  I paused to have a quick chat with a marshal as I had ridden past quite a few stranded riders who had either given up or suffered mechanical breakdowns and wanted to make sure somebody was going out to get them.  I was reassured that a van was going round picking these unfortunate people up, so I shuffled my way out of T2 and onto the run course.

The Owler run course.  2 x 10.5km laps

Either I hadn’t read the blurb properly or had forgotten it, but the first and last 2.5km of each lap of the run course was cross country round the lake.  The run was two 10.5 km laps, so I would have to run 5km of each lap cross country.  This is usually not an issue; however it was very very very very muddy and finding a dry path was proving difficult.  Fortunately the rain had let off just after the start of the run and I was making progress.  My plan was to follow my Ironman run tactics.  Run for 1.8km, walk 100 metres then run another 1.8km.  The only reason I had chosen 1.8km was that this is the distance between aide stations at Challenge Weymouth.  I will be walking through all the aide stations in Weymouth, so it seemed logical to practice exactly this.  

Running is my weakest triathlon discipline.  Compounded by a foot injury that I have had now for about 4 weeks causing me to stop all run training, I knew the run would be tough.  I was making very steady progress using my run/walk tactics and managed to stagger round the first lap in 1hr 6 mins.  This was not bad for 10.5km and better than I was expecting.  The second lap really took its toll as the heavens opened up even worse than during the cycling and the wind whipped around me.  I could no longer manage to run for 1.8km before walking.  My foot had thawed out and was starting to hurt, my quads were screaming and every step it felt like my calves were going to cramp.  I just concentrated on form and swapped to a strategy of running for 4 minutes and walking for 1.  This slowed my pace to 7min 30sec kilometres, but gave me a second wind and I was still making progress (all be it very slow progress).  

Rounding the half way point of the second lap I knew I only had just over 5km to go.  I have run 5km hundreds of times and just imagined that it was a sunny morning on Southsea seafront and I was enjoying a relaxing jog with friends.  This was quite some leap of imagination, as in reality it was monsoon-esque, but I was feeling good.  I was going to complete The Owler.  Best of all, I was looking like finishing in less than 7 hours.  A smile crept across my face.  I felt like a proper Triathlete.  Even better than that I was going to become a finisher of a Half Ironman race.  It’s not everybody you meet who can say that.

Love this medal

Jogging along in my fantasy world, thinking about sunny weather, cold beer and what Challenge Weymouth had to hold the final 5km went past without incident and I was through the finish chute and over the line.  The weather was so bad that the announcer couldn’t even see my race number so I had to tell him who I was, which he then triumphantly announced over the loud speaker.  The irony of this was not lost on me, as there were only about 10 other people around.  Most of the other competitors had finished and were either safely inside out of the rain, or had gone home.  Never the less I heard the announcement and I felt very very proud of myself.  Completing the 70.3 was the biggest achievement of my athletic career to date.  Definitely something to smile about.

YES YES YES, Ive done it

As you can see from the picture on the left I completed the race in 6hrs 50 minutes.  Most encouraging was a good swim time and a very decent bike leg considering that it was awful weather and I had a puncture.

The run was slow, but this was to be expected.  I am not a good runner and probably never will be.  

Who cares though right.  Race done and onto Challenge Weymouth for the big one.

The final thing for me to say is sorry it has taken me so long to write this update.  I have been a very busy boy of late, with some major changes for me and the family on the horizon. Not to mention rather a lot of Triathlon training. More of this to come in further updates.

TTFN

Snooky

One bad and one extremely good.

On By 00snookIn challenge weymouth, Chestnut Tree House, cycling, running, swimming, training, triathlonLeave a comment

Last week has been a bit tough on Iron Snook!

What started with a simple filling in my tooth ended up as me having 3 days off work and experiencing the most intense pain I have ever felt.  I don’t want to go into massive detail, but lets just say I had an infected tooth which took 4 days of very strong antibiotics to get under control and the pain was so bad I was begging my wife to pull the tooth out with pliers at home.  Luckily she said no, the infection seems to be better (though is still a bit painful today) and soon I can go back to the dentist and get it sorted once and for all.

Not a good picture, but left is Mike and right is Bruce

This infection has meant no training.  I was in agony and in no condition to do anything.  Because I felt better by Friday night, I agreed to meet the boys for a bike ride on Saturday morning.  Following a week off  of exercise and fighting an infection this bike ride was very tough going indeed.  I felt extremely weak.  I also tried a quick 5k run on Saturday evening which was equally tough.  Waking up this morning I felt like I had been run over by a bus.  Clearly I am not quite over this infection yet!

On the positive front the scenery we saw as we wound our way around the Meon Valley was simply stunning.  I feel genuinely privileged to live in such a beautiful part of the world and to be able to go and enjoy stunning summer mornings on my bike with my friends.

This is a part of the Ironman training that was totally unexpected for me and is rapidly becoming the bit I am enjoying the most.  If it hadn’t been for this little Ironman adventure I would never have learnt the peace and serenity you can get from running for hours on end, riding you bike for 100’s of miles or simply swimming along in the sea.  Some people say to me “isn’t the training boring” or “I just couldn’t be bothered with cycling for hours on end”.  Before I started my training I felt exactly the same.  I also found the training such hard going to start with that it was never enjoyable, it was simply hard work.

After exercising consistently for a few months you stop feeling awful every time you go out and you start to see and feel the beauty in exercise.  I genuinely believe that our bodies are built for endurance activities.  You start to unlock something primitive inside yourself.  You feel the need to run.  You feel more alive when your heart is pumping hard than you do when you are sitting still.  It is a bizarre and wonderful feeling.  

The beautiful Meon Valley

Recently I have had this feeling almost every time I have gone out to do some training.  Don’t get me wrong, training is always hard, but there are periods within the effort when you feel a real sense of inner peace, a kind of tranquility that is hard to describe.

It is during these times that my thoughts almost always move back to my motivation for doing this Ironman race in the first place.  Of course, this is the wonderful Chestnut Tree House, who (despite NO Government funding) manage to care for 300 life limited children and their families year after year.  They rely on over £3,000,000 of charitable donations every year just to stay open.  They are the ONLY children’s hospice in East Sussex, West Sussex and South East Hampshire.  Without Chestnut, there would be no children’s hospice care in any of these areas.   

I am hugely grateful to all those who have sponsored me so far and genuinely feel like you are all with me every moment of my training.  Chestnut Tree House means a huge amount to me personally and any support that people choose to give them is simply amazing.  This is where my one “extremely good” from my blog title comes in.

One of Chestnut’s Charity Shops

My sister is marrying a splendid fella called Damian. Damian’s Mum and Step-Dad (henceforth known as Jean and Vince – because those are their names) have a games party every year at their house.  Their friends and family come along, play garden games (largely devised and created by Vince), make merry and generally have a jolly good time.  This year the party is extra special.  I am hugely humbled and massively proud to say they have decided to make the party a fundraising event and are donating the money they raise to Chestnut Tree House.

The huge effort that Jean and Vince are going through to host this party and raise money has been inspired by my efforts and also by the story of Louise and Steve (which you can read by selecting the “Motivation” tab above.  This massive show of generosity from Jean and Vince and their friends who will attend the party almost brings me to tears.  When I started on this road to the Ironman I never expected that I would receive so much great feedback about my blog and never expected that I would inspire others to raise money alongside me.  It is truly humbling and makes me believe that perhaps one man can actually make a difference and help this truly amazing cause.  Not on his own, but with the help and support of others WE really can make a difference.  Every single penny that goes to Chestnut helps families who are in the most desperate of times, the most challenging of circumstances.  Nobody ever expects to outlive their child, but knowing that Chestnut Tree House are there to care for children who’s lives are cut short and help them and their families make the most of the time they have together, is a comforting thought.

Sensory room at Chestnut Tree House


Chestnut Tree House is a wonderful place, filled with fun and laughter and if you ever get a chance to visit I would strongly recommend that you do so.  I am immensely proud to be competing at Challenge Weymouth to raise money for Chestnut, massively humbled at the efforts of Jean and Vince to help support my cause and hugely looking forward to only 9 more weeks of training before the big event.

Thank you all for reading my blog.  The updates will be coming more regularly as we get closer to the big day.  Only 2 weeks until my half Ironman race in Kent and then the big push towards Weymouth begins.

As always, any and all support you would like to give to Chestnut Tree House and to me via my JustGiving page would be hugely appreciated.  

https://www.justgiving.com/Iron-Snook

TTFN

Snooky










Injuries, Jellyfish and bloody bumpy roads

On By 00snookIn bike, biking, challenge weymouth, Chestnut Tree House, crap roads, cycling, ironman, jellyfish, resiliance, running, training, triathlonLeave a comment

As I sit and write this it is 75 days until Challenge Weymouth.  75 days until I don my wetsuit with 2000 other masochists and stride into the surf of Weymouth bay.  This brings me onto one of the things I would like to talk about…….jellyfish.

All along the south coast of England we have record numbers of Barrel jellyfish appearing just off of our shoreline.  Juvenile Barrel jellyfish are normally predated on by fish, keeping the numbers of adults in check.  Over-fishing has caused less juveniles to be predated, meaning that there are literally 1000’s of these jellyfish growing into adulthood.

A barrel jellyfish photographed off the Dorset coast

Adult Barrel jellyfish can get big.  I mean really big.  Up to 6ft wide and weighing in at up to 35kg (77lbs, or 5 stone 7 lbs).  Articles from marine experts are saying that there may be 10’s of 1000’s of these aquatic fellas off of the Dorset coast.

Now not all of them are going to be as big as the one on the left, but there are jellyfish the size of bin bags washing up on the coast all over the place.  Portsmouth has had a few and over the weekend there were large numbers washed up in Swanage.

I don’t want to come across as a big girls blouse, but I am less than happy at the thought of sharing my swim at Weymouth with these underwater whoppers.  Their sting is only as strong as a stinging nettle and poses no threat to humans; however I imagine that swimming into a 35kg jellyfish will be more of a shock than anything.  My toddler only weighs 15kg and I wouldn’t want to swim into her.  Plus she doesn’t sting.

Spotted off coast of Boscombe at weekend.

Made slightly worse is the fact that the swim at Weymouth is in September, when the sea is at its warmest.  If we have any sort of onshore breeze or current there is going to be a fair few jellies sharing the water with me.  

Just the thought of this makes me very nervous.  I am not exactly sure why.  They pose no threat to me; however there is something primordial and spooky about jellyfish.  There are beautiful sea creatures and I would never harm one, but also I am happy never to get that close to one.  I feel the same way about tarantulas (and I wouldn’t want to swim with any of those either).

My wife is convinced that if there are loads of jellyfish about at race weekend then the organisers of the race will do something about it.  I am not so sure, but we will have to wait and see.

I also seem to have picked up a little niggling injury.  Well I say little, we will have to see how much worse it gets, but I am definitely officially injured.  Self-diagnosis has led me to believe that I am suffering with a form of Plantar Fasciitis 

As you can see from the picture on the left, this is a strain in the fascia just after the heel bone.  A very common running injury, which manifests itself in pain in the arch of your foot.  I only have it in my right foot and bizarrely it goes away whilst exercising and comes on at periods of rest.    Recommendations on how to fix this vary hugely.  Some say to rest, ice etc; however there is a large movement away from icing injuries like this, as it may slow healing.

Others say to keep exercising but at a lesser level.  It is a bit of a mine field and hard to work out what I should do.  Luckily I have a bio-mechanical coach who I trust 100% who is going to take a look at me and hopefully give me some exercises to help this go away.  He is a former professional Ironman and will understand that I cannot just stop training with only 75 days to go.  Fingers crossed Trevor can get me sorted out and I will be on the way to recovery soon.  In the meantime I am going to back down on my running, but keep the bike work up and increase my swimming.  I have hardly been swimming at all if I am honest, so this little injury is probably a blessing in disguise.

Lastly I want to have a moan up.  A good old fashioned complaining session.  What us in Pompey would refer to as a “squinny”.  The more I spend time on my bike, the more I love it.  You start to feel at one with your machine, instinctively knowing when to change gear, when to stand on the pedals to finish that final hill, when to push on the flat etc.  The only thing that affects my enjoyment of my cycling time is the road quality (or should I say total lack of quality).

Broken tarmac – easy in a car.  Horrible on a bike

When you cycle you keep to the left of the road so cars and other faster road users can overtake.  This is just good etiquette.  The problem with doing this is that the shoddy road surface is even more shoddy the closer you get to the verge.  There are potholes that are actually small caves and endless miles of broken tarmac (an example of the sort of thing I mean is on the right).

When you are in a car this broken tarmac is nothing.  You just smooth straight over it.  On a super stiff road bike with very narrow tyres this is not a comfortable surface to ride on.  You can hack it for a while, but after a few hours of constantly bumping over this sort of stuff it starts to wear very thin.

Occasionally you can find some stretches of road that are blissfully smooth.  Mostly it is this bumpy crap.  So my moan up is this.  Hampshire is one of the most affluent counties in the UK.  We all pay a tonne of council tax to live in such a beautiful county.  Take some of that council tax and fix the roads up a bit.  I am fed up of jolting along on tarmac that should be in much much better condition.  That is not to mention the cycle paths, which seem to have a special sort of tarmac that breaks up even more than the roads do.  Just bloody well sort it out.

The roads in Surrey are much nicer.  That’s probably why everybody who lives in Surrey thinks they are better than everybody else.  🙂

Anyway that’s it from me.  Big week of training this week, injuries, jellyfish and crap road surfaces not withstanding.

TTFN

Snooky




















Arundel Lido Triathlon – 1 good, 2 not so good

On By 00snookIn arundel lido triathlon, ironman, running, swimming, training, triathlonLeave a comment

It’s 04:10am on Sunday 24th May and my alarm has just gone off, must be time for the Arundel Lido Triathlon.

Yes, you have read that right, 04:10am.  Bloody early.  I had awoken off of the back of 4 hours sleep.  Normally I would blame a lack of sleep on the kids keeping me awake; however The Noodle was at Grannies and Mia had not woken me in the night.  My lack of sleep only had one person to blame……….me.

Unlike my usual triathlon preparation (of doing everything at the very last minute) I had decided to organise my gear the day before.  The problem was, I only finished doing this at about midnight.  I had planned to organise everything during the day on Saturday.  All was going well until my wife and I decided to buy The Noodle a trampoline.  She was staying at Grannies on the Saturday night as we didn’t want to take her to the triathlon on Sunday morning because she would just be bored.  She had been such a good girl recently, the trampoline was a little present.  Well I say little.  It’s actually pretty big and takes up a good chunk of the garden.  Anyway, we bought it on Saturday and wanted to build it before she came home on Sunday after the triathlon.  How hard can building a trampoline be?  Turns out not very, but quite time consuming.  The 2 hours I had set aside for triathlon prep was eaten up by trampoline building; hence why I found myself still organising my gear at midnight.

L-R Mike, Me and Bushy


Never mind the 4 hours sleep, today was a big day.  Other than Curry (who didn’t want to take part in the triathlon due to being ill a few weeks before) the whole of the Grazing Saddles Triathlon Team were competing.  This was exciting.  I had also competed in Arundel the year before (as my first ever Triathlon, read all about it here), so had a benchmark to beat and to see if I have gotten fitter over the last 12 months.

As my wife got our baby Mia ready to go, I ate some delicious porridge, made myself a peanut butter and jam sandwich (to eat 90 minutes before my start time), loaded the gear in the car and just after 5am we were off to Arundel.  Arriving just before 6am, I saw my friend Neil’s van, parked next to him and unloaded my gear.

Then I was straight into the routine I know only too well know.  Off to the registration tent to get your competitors pack.  Number for your helmet, number for your bike, timing tag around your ankle and then into transition to rack the bike, assemble your cycling shoes, running shoes, sunglasses etc under the bike and you are ready to race.

During this time I had been chatting to my fellow Grazing Saddles team members and to a few other people I knew from the Pompey Triathletes who were also competing that day.  The buzz was great.  Andy was swimming first and I gave him a huge cheer as he got out of the pool and made his way to transition.  Quickly running round to the bike exit we saw him come out and immediately proceed to cycle the wrong way.  Fortunately we shouted at him, he turned around and was on his way onto the bike course.  Neil was next to swim; however I didn’t see him get out of the pool as I was already queuing up for my swim start time.


Me and Bush waiting to swim

Making the triathlon even more interesting than normal was that Bushy and I had exactly the same swim start time.  With us being fairly evenly matched on the bike and Bushy being a bit better on the run it was set to be a straight race to the finish for us two.  We had spiced things up with a little wager.  Whomever out of us finished last has to wear a ballerina costume (complete with tutu) along to our next triathlon club training session.  The stakes could hardly be higher!!!!

Chatting away to Bushy as we waited he was telling me he was a bit nervous, but surprisingly I was calm.  Having raced at Arundel the year before I knew exactly what to expect and was really looking forward to seeing what I could do.  Arundel Lido Triathlon breaks down like this.

800m swim – unsurprisingly this is in the Lido and consists of 32 laps of 25metres each.

40km bike – 25 miles in old money, the bike course is two laps consisting of one long climb, a fast downhill and then a quick rolling section of the A27 before you start the second lap

10k run – the run is very hilly, taking on a steep offroad uphill section before dropping back into some rolling hills then a final fast 2km downhill to the finish.

Soon Bushy was called forward for his swim and a few moments after I was invited into lane 5 to get prepped.  Swim hat and goggles on, the marshals count your laps and tap you on the head when you have two to go, saving me having to count them myself, which I am absolutely awful at.  With 3 to 4 other swimmers per lane it can get congested, so to make things easier for the faster swimmers if you get tapped on the foot you have to wait at the end of the next length, let them past and then carry on.

I was counted down by the starter and then my swim had begun.  Despite the fact that I enjoy swimming, in all my previous triathlons the swim leg has never gone well.  I have either failed to get into a rhythm, gone out too fast, or otherwise gotten it wrong.  At Arundel, I was determined to swim smoothly and put in a good performance.  One lap done, on the return lap my left hand kept colliding into the wall.  The lanes were narrow and to avoid a collision with the swimmer coming the other way I had to keep left.  Sadly there was a wall there and I just kept hitting it.  To avoid this I had to shorten my left arm stroke, which threw me way off.  So much for a smooth swim.

Just about to High 5
my wife


Due to the problems with the wall I was not making good progress.  This resulted in me getting tapped on the foot a few times, causing me to have to stop at the end of the lap.  I knew the swim was going to be slow, AGAIN.  In my head I just kept trying to relax and not worry about it.  A couple of minutes lost on the swim could easily be regained on the bike if I rode well.  Failing to get into any sort of rhythm with my swimming I eventually was tapped on the head and two more lengths done I was out of the pool.  Hoorah.  Seeing my every supportive wife at the pool exit and giving her our now customary high 5, I ran into transition.

It was no surprise to see that Bushy’s bike was already gone.  He clearly had a better swim than me and was already out on the bike course.  There was only one thing for it, I had to catch him up.  Helmet, cycling shoes and sunnies on I was quickly out of transition and on the open road.  “Here we go” I thought to myself, mentally preparing for the first long climb of the bike course.

Into the climb I was almost immediately overtaken by number 25, who set off up the hill like he was being chased by something nasty.  I rode the hill as quickly as I dared, mindful of the fact that expending too much energy early in the ride is not a good idea.  40km is far enough that you cannot afford to go flat out from the start.  It requires a bit of pacing.  Up the hill, down the other side then onto the rolling section of A27 I was feeling great.  I even manged to catch up number 25 (who must have been quite some distance ahead). Keeping the water consumption up to try and avoid the dreaded cramps that I sometimes suffer with, I was through my first lap in good time and ready to tackle that climb again.

As I started the climb for the second time I still had not caught up Bushy.  Him and I are about even when it comes to bike riding.  I am probably a bit better up the hills, but he is faster on the flat and downhill due to his super duper aero triathlon bike.  The thoughts of the tutu were already going through my head.  If I couldn’t catch him on the bike I had no chance, as he was guaranteed to be quicker than me on the run.  Then, in the distance, slowly making his way up the hill I thought I might have spotted Bushy.  I have spent enough time following Bushy on the bike to recognise his unorthodox riding style; however I was still too far away to be sure.  Giving myself a little pep talk, I dropped my bike down a couple of gears, gritted my teeth and set about catching him.

To my delight my legs responded well to the extra pressure I put them under.  My quads were screaming, but I could push through the pain and was slowly reeling the rider in front in.  As I got closer I could see it was number 51.  That was Bushy.  I had caught him up.  We still had over 15km to go.  Perhaps that tutu would have his name on it not mine.

From this point I quickly caught him and overtook, pushing hard to the start of the downhill.  I knew that he would be quick downhill.  His triathlon specific bike has a much more aerodynamic riding position than my normal road bike.  Coupled with this, Bushy is fairly fearless.  An aero bike and a fearless rider tends to make for quick downhills.  Exactly as I thought, a couple of hundred metres into the downhill he overtook me.  I could see the grin on his face as he flew past.  In normal riding circumstances, I would quickly tuck in behind him and use the aerodynamic slip stream to keep up.  The effect of this slip steam is really quite pronounced and you can easily keep up with faster riders if you stay right on their back wheel.

Bottom of the downhill
on lap 1

Sadly for me, drafting (as this slip streaming is known) is not allowed in triathlon.  If you get caught drafting you could face disqualification.  With draft busting motorcyclists out on the course keeping an eye on things it just isn’t worth risking.  Plus it is cheating.  Bearing this in mind I decided all I needed to do was keep him in sight.  There was as short climb at the bottom of the downhill and I knew I could catch him up there.  

Down on the drops, pushing my biggest gear I managed to keep Bushy within about 25 metres of me as we started to approach the flat just ahead of the short climb.  I closed to within about 15 metres and then exactly as predicted Bushy started to slow on the uphill.  I pushed my bike and my legs as hard as I could and overtook him again.  Lactic acid building, my legs screaming I crested the short hill and pushed even harder on a brief downhill the  other side.  Quickly we were onto the A27 and as this section is flat and fast Bushy whizzed past yet again.  Keeping my eye on him I kicked one final time and overtook him just before a short sharp downhill run into transition.

At the bottom of this downhill there is a round-a-bout that you have to go straight on at.  Flying down the hill towards the round-a-bout I tipped my bike in and got a huge rear wheel slide.  I was clearly on the edge and extremely close to crashing.  Recovering from the slide sucked up a huge amount of momentum and once again Bushy went flying past and it was a short drag into transition.  I decided to just follow him into transition and rely on being faster changing from bike to run that he was.

Practically neck and neck into transition he racked his bike and then there was no room for mine.  Desperately trying to wedge my bike in between his bike and another competitors bike Bushy very kindly helped me.  Running shoes on I was out of transition in a very quick 45 seconds with Bushy hot on my heels.  At this point I felt I only had one chance.  Go out quickly at the start of the run and hope that he cannot stay with me, generating a gap which I can hold for the rest of the 10K.

I set off as quickly as I could, but could hear that he was only just behind.  Remarkably I actually felt OK and was hopeful that I might be able to maintain a quick pace for my 10K.  Less that 700 metres into the run, I knew those dreams were shattered.  My old friend cramp kicked in and my left calf locked.  Immediately my pace dropped considerably.  Bushy caught me up, gave me some encouraging words and then slowly ran off into the distance.  With my calf in absolute agony I knew there would be no way to catch him.  The tutu was mine.

At this point I stopped for a wee.  I needed a wee anyway, a bit of rest for the calf wouldn’t do any harm and the race against Bushy was already as good as lost.  Starting running again I was struggling to maintain any sort of pace at all.  Flashbacks to the Brighton Marathon were running through my mind, where quad cramp had caused me the huge problems.

Concentrating on trying to maintain my running form, I ran up and up and up.  I was forced to walk briefly when the off road section got really steep.  Bushy passed me going the other way and I knew from experience he was about 2 minutes ahead of me.  That was a lot to catch up, but anything can happen.  Running back downhill from the highest point I started to feel a bit better.  Concentrating on my breathing and my running form seemed to be alleviating the cramp a bit.  My calf still hurt, but just a bit less than before.  Running through the rolling hill section I was managing to maintain around 6min/km pace.  I knew that Bushy would be quicker than that and once again when we passed (he was on the home stretch as I made my way to the turn around point) I calculated we were still 2-3 minutes apart.  As Bushy passed me he said “I tell you what Snooky, this is going to be fecking close”.  I wasn’t quite so sure but was determined to do as well as I could.  

Soon enough I was on the final 2k which is downhill and then flat to the finish.  I pushed as hard as my leg would let me.  Struggling to get any quicker than 5:20/km I had to dig very deep to keep going.  My left calf was absolutely screaming.  In the back of my mind I was genuinely nervous that I might be doing some serious damage to my muscle.  A year ago I would have stopped and walked, but this was not the Snooky of a year ago.  I am a new, fitter, leaner version of myself and I was not going to give in.

Mike and I across the line together


Just as I approached the finish I was caught up by Mike (Grazing Saddles teammate and superb triathlete).  I had seen him a few times on the run where it crossed and knew he wouldn’t be that far behind.  We crossed the line together and the race was done.  

I was in pain.  A lot of pain.  Limping around I was seriously concerned I had done some lasting damage.  Quickly comparing times with Bushy what I already knew was confirmed.  He had finished around 4 minutes faster than me.  His superior running had won through and the tutu would be mine.  I really didn’t mind about that.  He is a great mate, it had been a pleasure to race some of the bike leg against him and it was always a bit of a longshot for me to beat him.  I ran a 55 minute 10k which is only 3 minutes slower than my PB and he still beat me. Well done Bushy.  It will be a pleasure to race with you at the Ironman in September.

Bushy and I compare times.  He has won!

  
All of us were finished.  Neil had put in a superb time for his first ever triathlon and finished second out of our little gang.  Despite Mike being ill in the run up to the triathlon and unable to train he had still finished first out of us lot and an extremely impressive 22nd overall.  Bushy was third, I was fourth and Andy was 5th.  Everybody had performed well.  We were all tired but had given it everything.  Now it was time to go back to my place for a well deserved BBQ.

Initially, after the race, I was a little down heartened.  My swim had not gone well at all.  The bike ride was good.  In fact, I was second quickest out of our gang on the bike.  My run was hampered by cramp yet again.  If only I could just get one race where the whole thing goes to plan.  Having had a bit more time to think over my performance, I think there is a lot more to be positive about than I may have realised.

12 months ago I took 2 hrs 54 minutes to complete the course.  On Sunday it took me 2hrs 28 minutes.  That is almost 30 minutes quicker.   A massive improvement and something I should definitely be proud of.  Last year I finished 7th from last overall.  This year I finished 78th out of 105 competitors.  Again a huge improvement.   

There are a number of things to be learnt from the weekend.  Firstly, I definitely need to work on my swimming.  More time in the pool required.  Secondly my cycling has come on a long way, but there is still room for improvement, especially around those pesky hills.  And finally onto my running.  Neil constantly reminds me that a year ago I was struggling to run more than a mile and this is absolutely true.  Despite this I would like to do a bit better on the run, although I appreciate this is very unlikely to ever be a strong point of mine.

All in all a very successful event.  Was great to compete with the team and I am really looking forward to my half Ironman in a couple of months time.  8 weeks to the half Ironman, then only 8 more until the full distance.

There is a LOT of training to be done before then.

TTFN.

Snooky


Brighton Marathon – a race of two halves

On By 00snookIn Brighton, Brighton Marathon, Chestnut Tree House, cramp, running, shoesLeave a comment

It’s 6am on Sunday 12th April and my alarm has just gone off.  Must be time for the Brighton Marathon!

I had slept fairly well.  The nerves I had been feeling in the preceding weeks had seemed to fade and if anything I was fairly confident of a good run.  Despite the usual feelings of having not done enough training, I was confident I could make the full distance and was hopeful of a time around 4hrs 30 minutes.  This would be an average speed of around 6min/km, definitely a speed I felt I could maintain.

Cat and I had slept at my parents house the night before as they live locally to Brighton making the journey to the Marathon more simple.  We had our baby Mia with us, but sadly our older daughter Niamh had to stay with Cats Mum back home as she had a horrid cough and was not well enough to come down to the Marathon to support her Dad.

Speaking of Dad’s, mine was good enough to offer me a lift to the Marathon in the morning, so after getting up, having a shower and making my final preparations he appeared in the kitchen to drive me down.  Those of you who know my Dad will be aware that he is a bit of a character, but even I was a little surprised to see him wearing a Superman onesie.  He informed me the Superman onesie was his “dropping people off early in the morning outfit”.  I decided not to enquire any further, we chucked my stuff in the car and he drove me down.

As we got closer to Preston Park (Marathon start) the road was closed, so Dad dropped me off and I walked the rest of the way.  This gave me a chance to walk past the elite runners start, where the professionals and the very quick amateurs would be starting the race.  The “fun” runners would be starting further down the road and completing a lap of Preston park (the actual park not the whole place) before joining the same course as the elites.

Walking past the elite start and on down towards the park I saw a number of athletes coming the other way.  These were clearly the elite amateurs and they all looked very fit, all had less than 3% body fat and all looked very serious indeed.  Some had already started to warm up at 7.45am and the race didn’t start until 9.15am.  Knowing that these people are a different breed from me I wandered on and into Preston Park.

You can just make me out.  Back row on the left hand side.

As soon as I arrived I made my way over towards the clock tower where the Chestnut Tree House girls had staked us out an area to assemble.  We had a photo taken with those of us who were there at 8.15am, leaving 1 hour until race start.  I still felt OK.  No real sign of nerves.  The only thing on my mind was that in the sun already felt quite warm.  Looked like the day was shaping up to be a hot one.

Exchanging a bit of banter with some of the lads I then went to drop off my bag (which would be taken to the finish by the marathon organisers).  I had decided to run in my Chestnut Tree House vest with a t-shirt underneath as this is what I had worn on almost all of my training runs and it was what I was used to.  Applying plenty of sunscreen to my exposed legs and arms I handed in my bag and then waited around until it was time to assemble within our starting pens.

I was colour coded in the blue start, which was the second starting group.  Whilst waiting for the start Bushy and Marie turned up to see me off.  Regular blog readers will remember Bushy as my friend who failed to turn up to the first triathlon of 2014 because he wanted to spend time with Marie, who was definitely NOT his girlfriend at the time.  Well anyway she definitely is his girlfriend now.  Bet you are glad I cleared that one up.

Bushy was supposed to be running with me, but due to an administrative error with his application (essentially he cocked it up) his place did not get confirmed.  After a brief chat about race strategy, how I was feeling etc it was time to go.  Saying goodbye to Bushy and Marie I walked towards the starting line with the rest of my wave.  

The crowd were already cheering and I must admit my thoughts were firmly with why I was doing this marathon in the first place.  Thinking about all of the children and their families being cared for by Chestnut Tree House and what they must be going through brought a tear to my eye as the starter sounded a horn and the race was started.  

The first part of the race relatively slow as people jostled for position and got stuck in a few bottle necks, but soon we were out of Preston Park and on our way into Brighton.  I took 7 minutes for my first kilometer, but after than settled into a very steady 6min/km pace and felt great.  I am probably going to say this 1000 times, but the crowd were phenomenal.  

Early in the race and feeling good

Having “Snooky” written on the front and back of my race vest was great as countless people were shouting “come on Snooky” or something similar as I went past.  I did my absolute best to give each and every one of them a smile and a thumbs up.  

The marathon route wound its way down towards Brighton, then cut back North towards the University before coming back on itself and heading towards the sea.  This allowed you to see runners who were ahead of you on the switchbacks, or behind you (depending on which direction you were going).  The ability to see the others was great as I could keep a look out for my fellow Chestnut Tree House runners.  There was around 130 of us in total and just like the supporters, I tried to give each one of them a thumbs up if I caught their eye.  The kilometers were flying past and every time I checked my watch I was on almost perfect 6min/km pace and in all honesty I felt great.  No little niggling injuries, my breathing was smooth and not at all laboured and I was loving the marathon.  

Soon enough we were through the 10km mark and I was exactly on my planned pace, cruising through 10K in an hour.  It was around this point in the race that I noticed it was starting to get very warm.  I hadn’t checked the weather forecast in the morning, but did know that it was due to be mostly sunny.  I have no idea how hot it was, but it was the hottest weather I had run in all year by far. There was only one thing for it, time to take off the t-shirt underneath and just run in the vest.  Stopping for a wee, I took off my under t-shirt, tied it around my waist bag that I was carrying and then on I went.

Now I had been running for an hour it was time to think about taking some food on board.  I had already been drinking either water or Gatorade (whichever was on offer) at every drink station as dehydration is a killer in endurance events and I wanted to make sure I took enough fluids on board.  To keep me going food wise, I had decided to move away from gels in favour of some homemade rice cakes.  The recipe came from a simply brilliant book that I cannot recommend enough, Feedzone Portables.  The idea is that as your body is used to eating normal food.  Why introduce things you don’t normally eat (gels, energy bars etc) into your system when it is at maximum stress.  This can cause stomach issues (and believe me I have had these in the past using energy gels).  Instead you cook yourself some simple food that tastes good and provides you with the carbs you need to keep your muscles topped up and avoid the dreaded “wall”, where you run out of muscle glycogen and your performance drops.

So I was an hour into the race and it was time for one of these rice cakes.  I had not tried them at all in training so how my stomach would react was a bit of an unknown quantity, so I just munched half of one down and kept on running.  At this point the race makes its way past Brighton Marina and then takes a left into Ovingdean, before turning around and it is the long slog all the way through Brighton and on to Shoreham power station.  I knew this was a key part of the race for me.  If I could get through half marathon distance (21km or 13.1 miles in old money) feeling good then I hoped to be well set up for the second half.  I was keeping to pace well, still cruising along at 6min/km.  As my good friend Curry would say “the legs felt good” and I was loving the race.

Taken at mile 13 I think


Making sure to keep smiling at the crowd when they shouted out my name soon we were back at Brighton Pier and approaching half way.  Across the half way marker I checked my watch and was delighted to see that I was through half marathon distance in 2:10, which was still bang on pace and meant if I could keep going I should finish in around 4:30, which was my target time before the race.

Sticking in the back of my mind was the fact that during training on my long runs, I would tend to run into trouble at around 23-25km.  This would either be hitting “the wall”, or some sort of injury niggle that would slow me down.  No sooner had this thought entered my mind I started to feel a little twinge in my left quad.  It wasn’t anything major at this point, but was enough to slow me down a bit and get me to quickly think about what I was going to do about it.  

After a quick brain storm I was fresh out of ideas.  I had drunk as much liquid as I could get my hands on, eaten my little rice cakes at the correct intervals and wasn’t running too quickly.  I could slow down more to try and protect my leg but there was no guarantee this would work.  Sometimes when you get these little niggles you can just run them off and sometimes they develop into something worse.  Sadly for me in this instance it was the latter.

Within a few hundred yards of starting to feel this twinge in my quad it cramped.  And when I say cramped I mean cramped.  The muscle totally locked and I was immediately slowed down to a limp.  A very slow limp.  The crowd were cheering me on but I knew I was in big trouble.  I have always suffered with cramp.  Regular blog readers will remember me commenting on swim cramp before and I had exactly the same quad issues at the Swanage Triathlon last year.  Throughout my football playing days as a teenager I would get quad or calf cramp in almost every single game.  It was something I was used to; however this time it was a bit different.

I had crippling leg cramp at around mile 15, meaning I had 11 more miles to go.  Trying to run 11 metres with severe cramp is hard enough, but 11 miles is an entirely different thing.  In my head I was absolutely gutted.  I knew this was the end of me getting round in my target time.  There was even a bit of doubt whether I would finish.  Quickly banishing these thoughts from my mind I had to re-strategise.  What was I going to do to make sure I got to the end of the marathon?

The answer was simple.  I needed to walk until the cramp subsided, then run as best I could for as long as I could until it came back.  Walk again to get rid of it, then run.  This would be how I would proceed for the remainder of the race.  

Sometimes I would walk for 5 minutes, the cramp would go then I could run for 20 minutes.  Sometimes I could only run for 20 seconds and the cramp would come back.  Every time I was slowed to a walk my heart sank.  Because I was forced to favour my right hand side due to the issues with my left quad, soon my right quad started to ache a lot.  Not so long after that both hip flexors started to complain, my back started to hurt and then I was just hurting.  I knew these other muscle aches were due to improper running and walking form caused by the cramp, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.  My head kept dropping towards the pavement as I shuffled along.  I was trying to smile and keep giving the thumbs up to the crowd as they called my name but I was hurting.  

Walk with a limp like an old school pimp

It seemed to take an age to make it to the power station, but as I rounded this point I knew it was only 6 miles to the finish.  The sign said 6 miles, but it might as well have said 60.  I was in a whole world of trouble.  My quads were screaming and even when I was running I was struggling to go any quicker than 7min/km.  The walking phases were not even walking as I had a pronounced limp and felt more like Herr Flick of the Gestapo rather than a marathon runner.

Despite all this discomfort, there were some great highlights of this part of the race.  I couldn’t help thinking back to the days when my wife and I first met and started dating.  I suffered with sciatica in those days and was awaiting an operation to fix it.  The sciatica caused me to limp around everywhere and my beautiful wife (who was then my girlfriend) used to find this amusing.  She would regularly sing the lyrics to LMFAO – I’m in Miami to me, which include the lines “When I step on the scene, y’all know me, cause I walk with a limp like an old school pimp”  This song was going through my head as I limped along and was amusing me a lot.

Also, my friend Andy cycled down from Chichester to cheer me on and his enthusiasm when he spotted me at mile 19 was remarkable.  I remember complaining to him that I was not in good condition, but he just kept bouncing up and down and telling me that I could do it.  He is very energetic for an old fella 😉

Bumbling my way along past mile 23 I saw Andy again and he was still hugely enthusiastic despite the fact he must have been waiting almost an hour for me to make it round those 4 miles.  If you are reading this mate, thank you for the support it was desperately needed.

Eventually making it out of the power station complex and onto the seafront it was just 3 miles to go.  3 miles and I would be done.  3 miles and for the rest of time I would always be able to say I completed the Brighton Marathon.  I was determined to run.  Determined not to walk past the huge crowds.  Determined that I was stronger than my legs were telling me, that I had the inner reserves to do this thing.  

Waiting till the 2 mile marker I decided enough to this walking and increased to a very slow jog.  The crowd were going mental and they must have spurred me on as I managed to keep running and keep running.  I was greeted by my friend Nige with about 1.5 miles to go.  Nige had also seen me at around the mile 13 mark, but this time he thrust a bottle of water into my hand, gave me a huge clap on the back and a massive cheer and that was it, I knew I was running to the end of the race.

Respect to the Chestnut
cheering team
Technique all over the
place, but only a mile to go

At this point there was a huge group of Chestnut Tree House supporters and a tear formed in the corner of my eye as I applauded their phenomenal support.  They had been out in the heat for 5 hours cheering me and my fellow runners on and would probably be out there for a couple more yet.  An amazing bunch of people and I was honoured to run for them.

Just past the Chestnut cheering team were my wife, family and friends.  They made a huge amount of noise as I went past and I must have been grinning like a Cheshire Cat to see them in the crowd.  I was almost done.

Pushing on past the pier and onto Madeira drive I could see the finish line and the fact that the first number on the timing board was a 5.  I was going to take more than 5 hours to finish the marathon and was very disappointed with my performance.  Crossing the line after 5hrs and 3 minutes of running I was expecting to feel elation, but actually all I felt was disappointment.  My body had let me down and I knew it was my fault.

Upon reflection I just didn’t do enough training.  I had not put enough work in on the long runs and that has cost me.  I am now absolutely convinced that if I had done more long run work I would not have experienced the muscle cramp that I did.

Meeting up with my support team of wife and daughter, Mum, Dad, Sister (with baby and boyfriend) and my friends Bushy and Marie and Steve and Louise (along with their 11 week old son Owen) afterwards they were all very proud of my accomplishment, but all I felt was that I had let them all down.  Even when I wandered into the Chestnut Tree House tent in the Marathon village and talked to the other runners I still felt sad about my poor performance.  I was delighted the others had finished, but just couldn’t feel happy about my result.  A strange state of emotion. Perhaps I was just physically and emotionally spent and had nothing left.  I’m not sure.

Having now had time to reflect I feel a lot more proud of myself.  Apparently only 1% of people ever complete a marathon and I am one of those.  This is something to feel good about, regardless of the time it took.

I have learnt a huge amount from my marathon experience, but this is a post for another time as this one has gone on long enough.  

To sign off, huge thanks to my friends and family who came down to support me on the day.  Knowing you were there to cheer me on was a great booster.  Massive thanks and respect to those Chestnut Tree House supporters out on the course who were cheering me on and also thanks those members of the public who had no idea who I was but felt the need to cheer me on anyway.  You are all wonderful people and made the day for me.

Check back on IronSnook soon for the lessons learnt from the marathon and what comes next.

TTFN

Snooky

PS – For those of you who are wondering if I would run a marathon again, the answer is a resounding YES.  I have a score to settle with the Brighton Marathon course and myself.  In fact I have already signed up to run for Chestnut again next year.  Just to add to the challenge I am going to run barefooted.  More on this later in the year.





   




Chestnut Tree House – Pasta Party

On By 00snookIn Brighton, Brighton Marathon, Chestnut Tree House, fundraising, runningLeave a comment

Last night (Thursday 9th April) my wife and I were invited to Chestnut Tree House to attend a pasta party.  Chesnut Tree House throw these events to say thank you to their charity runners ahead of the Brighton Marathon.  The party also gives the runners a chance to look around the hospice and be reminded of what they are running for, whilst eating plenty of carbs to fuel their upcoming run.

It is fair to say that I am slightly nervous about running the marathon.  Like all events, I feel under prepared.  Should I have done more training……….. definitely YES.  Is it too late to rectify this situation………..absolutely.  

As we drove into the driveway at Chestnut I was thinking about the other runners I would meet.  How much training have they done?  Will they all be a lot fitter than me (and probably a lot slimmer)?  

Jumping out of the car and grabbing Mia (our 7 week old) my wife and I wandered into the hospice.  We quickly got chatting to the Chestnut staff that were there and also to a few of my fellow runners.  Soon it was time for the pizza and pasta to be served, so we got stuck in to some delicious grub prepared by Chestnut’s resident chef Jez.

A few things struck me whist speaking to the other runners.  Firstly everybody seemed to be at least a bit nervous.  This was very reassuring and it felt good to be in the same boat as the others.  Secondly, the Chestnut staff that we met were so very appreciative of us all running the marathon for the hospice.  The reason why quickly became apparent.

Adult hospice care in the UK is funded by the Government.  If you have a life limiting condition and require a hospice place it is likely that the hospice you go to will receive a very large chunk of funding from the Government.  Children’s hospice care either receive NO Government funding, or in some cases a tiny amount.

I was absolutely stunned to find out this information.  How can this be right?  Why would the Government not fund children’s hospice care?  The answer to this question is unknown, but what is known is that Chestnut Tree House rely on over £3 million of charitable donations to keep open.  They care for 300 children and their families.  Remember that these children all have life limiting conditions.  Some are handicapped, many are oncology patients and they all receive their care from Chestnut absolutely free of charge.  

After our pasta we went on a tour.  To say this was emotional would be an understatement.  We were shown the soft play area, the messy play area (complete with it’s own drain in the middle of the room for clean up) and a great cinema room where the kids can go and watch movies, play Xbox etc.  I was blown away by the swimming pool, which has it’s own projection equipment and a sophisticated hoist that allows children who are too heavy to be carried to be lifted into and out of the pool.  The water is kept at 34 degrees, meaning that children who cannot move normally can enjoy the weightless environment of the pool and jump and walk like their more able bodied friends.  

The tour went on, showing us the music room complete with a piano that lights up and plays itself.  We then moved to a remembrance area, which serves as a multi-faith prayer room and also has 4 large bound books on a table.  These books contain a page for every child that has died whilst being cared for at the hospice.  There are four massive books of children who have passed.  One of those pages will be dedicate to Amber, the little girl who has inspired my whole Ironman journey.  Having two beautiful daughters of my own, I simply could not contemplate what it must be like to have a child die and have a page in this book.  Words just cannot describe what it must be like.

Next to this room was the Stars room.  Steve and Louise (Amber’s parents) had told me about this room, but nothing can quite prepare you for entering it.  The room is a self contained suite with sofa beds, table and chairs, a kitchenette, a bathroom and a bedroom.  The only difference from a normal bedroom is that the bed is a “cold bed”.  This is the room where the children are first laid to rest after they pass away.  Steve told me about how lovely it was to be able to have Amber in this room after she died, so him and Louise could grieve for her and come to terms with her passing.  I was fighting back the tears to think of them in that room having just lost their daughter.  What a simply amazing thing it is that Chestnut can offer this service to children and their families.  

We wandered back into the main room where we started and the tour was concluded.  I was simply in awe of this stunning and amazing place where these life limited children can enjoy their days, some of them their final days, with the care and respect that they deserve.  Chestnut also provide brilliant family care and offer rooms upstairs for families to stay in so they are always close to their children, no matter how ill they become.

We left the hospice and Cat and I had a long chat on the way home about what we had seen and what a privilege it is for me to run for and raise money for such a brilliant charity.

Please remember that Chestnut Tree House is the only hospice covering East and West Sussex and South East Hampshire.  The ONLY one.  It has such a large catchment area and provides such great care that if I had the money I would give them £3 million a year myself.  What an amazing place, with amazing staff.

I hope this blog update has given you a little more insight as to why I am running the marathon and then going on to the Ironman all in aide of Chestnut Tree House.

For those of you who have already donated to my fundraising, a huge thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support.  It means a huge amount to me and even more to the families and children that the hospice care for.

Anybody who would like to donate can find my Just Giving page here https://www.justgiving.com/Iron-Snook/

Please donate what you can; however small as every penny will go to helping this beautiful and amazing hospice continue the great work that it does.

Next blog update will be on Sunday evening after the Marathon.  GULP!

TTFN

Snooky


Chichester Corporate Challenge – Race 3

On By 00snookIn chichester, chichester corporate challenge, competition, ironman, Portsmouth Duathlon, race, running, trainingLeave a comment

It’s 7pm on Wednesday 25th March and I am standing outside the West Cornwall Pasty shop in Chichester.  Must be time for the Chichester Corporate Challenge.

A pasty

Regular readers of my blog will be aware that my event write ups usually start with my alarm going off; however this was a very rare event indeed.  Rather than starting at silly-o-clock, the Chichester Corporate Challenge is run midweek after 7pm.  This was the third race of a three race series and I was representing my company, Moneybarn.  

Most alarming about standing outside the pasty shop was that I was on my own (and not eating a pasty).  I was positive that I was at the right pasty shop; however I was due to meet my colleagues at 7pm and nobody was there.  My usual sense of direction at the front of my thoughts, I was fairly convinced I was at the wrong pasty shop and busied myself examining Google Maps trying to see if there was another one around.  A few minutes later I saw a bunch of my colleagues casually ambling towards me and knew that I was actually in the right place.  Perhaps I was a bit early?  Having never been early for anything before perhaps this is what being early feels like.  It’s lonely 🙂

Exchanging a bit of chit chat with my colleagues I felt nervous.  Much more nervous than I should have.  It’s a big deal for me to represent anybody other than myself whilst racing as I always want to put in a good performance and not let the side down.  

Soon it was time for the “A” race, which featured runners capable of running the 4.5km course in less than 18 minutes.  We had two representatives in this race (neither of which was me) and as they set off at lightening pace for their 4 laps of the course I set about a combination of warming up and cheering them on as they went past.

In what felt like a very short amount of time both of our runners from the “A” race were finished and it was time to make my way towards the start with my colleagues for the “B” race (featuring everybody else who wasn’t in the “A” race).  As is customary for my racing, I took a start position fairly close to the back and waited for the off.

In the back of my mind I had a target.  One of my colleagues had confessed earlier that she was looking at a time around 22 minutes.  I thought that if I kept up with her that would be an excellent result for me over 4.5km. My plan was formed. I would stick close behind her and if I felt good at the end try for a last minute overtake.  She was positioned just to my right, so I kept my eye on her I waited for the start. The start was announced and the group surged forward. Within 0.3 seconds I had lost sight of her and that was the end of that plan.  Hannibal would not have been impressed.

So without my master plan to follow I just ran.  Weaving through a few slower competitors eventually a couple of other Moneybarn runners overtook me so I tagged onto the back of them.

The short lap involved 4 left turns covering tarmac and cobbled streets.  Following the 4th left turn you were back where you started on the “start/finish” straight.  As I made it through the first lap the race organiser announced I was running with a group that were on for a 22 minute finish time.  Immediately I was concerned that the pace was too strong for me and I would fade.  Never the less my competitive nature kicked in and there was no chance of me slowing down.

Through the second lap in around 10 min 30 seconds if anything I was speeding up, but I felt good.  I hadn’t competed in an organised running race since the Stubbington Green 10k in January and the buzz of competition was probably delivering more adrenaline than I would have ideally liked.  Half way gone though, so might as well try to hold the pace.

Third lap done I was suddenly on for a finish around the 21 minute mark, which was beyond my wildest expectations.  I was also acutely aware that my breathing had become a lot more laboured.  Also my watch was reporting a heartrate of over 180bpm which is getting close to my running maximum of 192, so I clearly didn’t have a lot more in the tank.

The fourth lap was a bit more of a struggle; however I completed it in sub 5 minutes and crossed the line around the 21 minute mark (21:03 according to my Garmin).

Mentally scanning over my body I realised that I had not picked up an injury.  What a result!  Not only had I run at a reasonable average pace (the fastest I have ever managed) but I had done so without picking up a niggle.  This was especially important so close to the Marathon and was great news.

So all in all a successful event.  I put in a good running performance for my team, didn’t get injured and really enjoyed myself in the process.  The rest of the team had all done very well and everybody seemed pleased with their performances.  As they headed off to the pub to partake in a post race beverage I parted company with them to head home to see my wife and kids and try to lend a hand with the newborn.

During the ride home (motorbike not pedal – I’m not that keen) I had some time to reflect on how my race season is shaping up.  A 10k PB at Stubbington, a 5k Parkrun PB, an excellent run/bike/run at the Portsmouth Duathlon shaving 8 minutes off last years time and now a good performance at the Chichester Corporate Challenge.  Compared to last year, which was a series of errors and mistakes at almost every race, 2015 is looking a lot better than 2014.

Egotistically, I know this is down to the hard work I have been putting in during my training hours and it does feel good to be reaping the benefits.  Next event is the Brighton Marathon, a truly daunting thought.  26.2 miles is a very long way to run and I have never managed longer than 19 miles in training (which almost killed me).  Still only 11 days to go till we find out what “Iron” Snook is really made of.

TTFN

Snooky




And now for something completely different

On By 00snookIn chichester corporate challenge, injury, ironman, race, runningLeave a comment

Tonight I am doing something I have never done before.  I am representing my company at the Chichester Corporate Challenge.  Tonight is the final race of 3 and despite my failure to turn up at the first two due to family commitments, my place is still secure for race 3.

The route is 4.5km round Chichester, consisting of a 4 lap loop.  There are two waves of runners.  Race A is for those amongst us who are capable of running 4.5km in 18 minutes or less.  Race B is for everybody else.  I am in Race B.

Competing when I am representing somebody other than just myself is an interesting experience.  I am very used to playing team sports (well football at least) and so you would think that this would translate into a team running event, but it appears not to.  As such, I am way more nervous about running 4.5km than I should be.  For a man who ran 30km on Sunday, it would seem logical that 4.5km would be a walk in the park.  The problem with this is as distances get shorter race expectations seem to get bigger.

For the longer race events, simply finishing is usually my aim.  I didn’t give two hoots how long it took me to run 30km, I was just pleased to manage the distance.  For the shorter races I now have pre-conceived ideas of how long they should take me.  For 4.5km, I should be able to maintain a fairly quick pace.  I don’t have to worry at all about endurance and really I should be able to attack the race at full pelt.

Bearing in mind that I ran a 25 minute 5km at the Portsmouth Duathlon (where I had to follow this with a 15km bike ride and then another 5km run and was subsequently pacing myself), there should be no reason I cannot run a solo 4.5km faster than 5min/km pace.  I have never really attempted to run this fast before.  This presents me with two options.

1) I run at 5min/km pace which I know I am more than capable of and finish in around 22-23 minutes.  A perfectly respectable time.

2) I go for it.  Head out at 4:30/km pace and see if I can hold it.  This would give me a finishing time of around 20 minutes if I can hold on.  A much better result that 22-23 minutes, giving me a better showing for my team and company.

It seems a no-brainer that I would go for option 2.  The problem with this is the risk of getting injured.  As you run quicker, the chance of picking up a injury increases.  It is obvious that I need to do everything that I can to avoid injury; therefore option 1 becomes the clear favourite.

In truth, I don’t know which I am going to go for.  My competitive streak is very strong and the desire to do well for my company will push me even further.  Can I ignore this and run sensibly to make sure I don’t get injured?  

We will have to wait and see.


Update:  I managed the 4.5km in 21 minutes according to my watch.  Not bad at all.  Very pleased.

TTFN.

Snooky


Portsmouth Duathlon – 1 year on, am I any fitter?

On By 00snookIn 5k, bike, biking, Brighton, competition, cycling, duathlon, family, grazing saddles, marathon, PB, Portsmouth Duathlon, race, running, training, triathlonLeave a comment

It’s 6am on Sunday 15th March (Mother’s Day in the UK) and I have just woken up in a very uncomfortable position on my sofa.   It must be time for the Portsmouth Duathlon.

Before anybody jumps to any conclusions, I was on the sofa simply because I fell asleep watching TV and never moved.  Having a newborn means that wherever I fall asleep I tend to sleep much more soundly than usual.  I am assuming this is because I am generally knackered pretty much constantly.  It’s not bad sleeping on the sofa, except for the fact that it is cold not especially comfortable.  Still I had racked up at least 6 hours sleep and that’s pretty good in my book!

Breaking from tradition, I had done a little bit of preparation the night before this race, so my bike was ready to go.  I quickly checked the tire pressures and then set about eating breakfast and double checking my bag.

Half way through breakfast my oldest daughter Niamh woke up so I fished her out of bed, stuck her in with my wife and gave her the rest of my porridge to keep her entertained.  Having decided on wearing my tri suit with shorts and my Grazing Saddles cycling top I put my clothes on, gave the family a goodbye kiss and was on my way.

From my house it is a very short bike ride to the start, where I grabbed my race numbers and went about the now familiar process of attaching them to my bike, my helmet and myself.  I saw Anthony (who comes to my triathlon training sessions) and had a quick chat with him and Darby from the Pompey Triathletes before racking my bike, assembling my gear and then heading out for a quick warm up.

I bumped into a few more people from triathlon club (Simon, Andrew, Emma) and had a brief chat with each of them.  The overall consensus was that it seemed to be too early for the first race of the year and that people felt a little under prepared.  As far as I can tell, this is entirely standard for any sort of race.  Nobody gets to the morning of the race and thinks they have done enough training.  Everybody seems to doubt themselves.  Perhaps it is human nature.  Or just that everybody actually hasn’t done enough training. 🙂

Quick warm up completed, I joined the queue for a pre race wee with about 10 minutes left until the start, scheduled for 8.30am.  

One of the cardinal sins of competing is to do things differently on race day to what you would do in training.  Only stupid people will do this.  Things like wearing different clothes or shoes, eating or drinking differently etc.  Usually doing this will have negative effects on your performance as your body undergoes new experiences whilst at race pace.

Naturally, I had decided to ignore the above and made the decision to try a different energy gel product before this race.  I had brought  a ZipVit Nitrite Gel with me for pre race consumption.  The theory is that ingesting nitrites allows your blood vessels to open up more, getting the blood pumping round your body more easily.  The science behind this is fairly sound so I was keen to try a product that supposedly helps.  Ripping the gel open I slurped down the bright purple liquid inside.  It was the consistency of wallpaper paste and tasted like how I imaging licking a compost heap must taste.  

Having eaten my delicious nitrite gel I headed towards the start line, where I saw my friend Greg (another person I met through tri club).  Greg is almost always enthusiastic and smiling, so I wandered over to start next to him and absorb his positive vibes.  We had  a brief chat and just as Greg was starting a very promising little story with the words “I got completely hammered on Friday night” we were off.  Somehow we had missed the start.  The lady in front of me was tying her shoe and had also missed the start, so I deftly avoided clattering into her and set about the business of running the first leg of the race, totalling 5 kilometres.

Normally you will run more quickly than you should at the start of a race as the euphoria of running in a group sees everybody set out quickly.  Glancing at my watch I noticed we were at about 5min/km pace as the big pack proceeded down towards Southsea Castle.  5min/km would give me a 25 minute 5k time.  My personal best 5k is 24min 56sec, so I was thinking that this pace was probably a bit ambitious for me.  Never the less I carried on and surprisingly I felt good.  Sticking at around 5min/km pace I even started to overtake a few other runners.  I have never, ever overtaken somebody running before and I must admit it did feel quite good.

Soon the kilometres clicked by and I was almost back to the start with 4km run and 1km to go.  I still felt OK.  I was amazed.  A minor hamstring niggle was in the back of my mind, but I always have some sort of leg pain when running and have gotten used to ignoring it.  At this point in the race I couldn’t help but smile.  I was competing in my first event of the year.  In less than 6 months I would be in an entirely different race at Challenge Weymouth and it felt fantastic to get my event season off to a start.

Rounding the final corner back into transition I glanced at my watch which said 25 minutes.  I had a run a close to PB 5k on the first leg of the Duathlon and was feeling good.  Well in all honesty I was more shocked than anything.  Perhaps my watch was wrong?  Quickly putting on my cycling shoes, helmet and grabbing my bike I was out of transition and onto the road, where I set about the business of cycling 15 kilometres.

I really like cycling and I had a game plan.  Whoever was in front of me, the plan was to catch them, overtake and then chase down the next person.  Setting about this and quickly getting up to race speed I was battling into a strong headwind but consistently catching those in front of me.  After about 5 minutes I ended up riding with two other guys and we kept overtaking each other.  The great thing about this is that it inspires you all to go faster and in the back of my mind I knew that when we would soon turn around and head back the way we came.  This would mean the wind would be on our backs and it would be time to put the hammer down.

Sure enough turning around and no longer riding into a strong headwind was amazing.  I dropped a few gears, got myself as low as possible and pushed hard.  Quickly passing 40kph (25mph) I was flying past my fellow competitors and loving it.  As we rounded the end of Southsea common it was back into the headwind for a bit, then a lap of the common again and once more into the headwind towards transition to complete the 15k.  

Just as I had got close to transition I had heard my wife call out my name and was ecstatic to see that she had gotten Niamh and Mia into the double buggy to come down and support me.  Not a bad effort for a woman who had a C-Section less than 4 weeks before.  I was in and out of transition quickly, saw my girls standing by the exit and ran over to give them a kiss.  Niamh (my 2 year old) gave me a big smile then shouted at me “RUN”.  This was all the motivation I required and I headed off into the last leg of the race with a huge smile on my face.  Only a 5k run to go.

By this time the pack had thinned out a lot and I was running pretty much on my own.  Using the same method I had on the bike, I lined up the person in front of me and ran.  Usually as a race progresses you slow down a bit (or sometimes a lot), which is a real indicator of a lack of fitness.  Glancing at my watch I saw I was cruising at 5:15/km pace, only 15 seconds slower than my first 5k and pretty quick for me.  Soon I was overtaken by a much quicker runner; however I stayed about my task and slowly reeled in a few people in front of me.  I was amazed that I managed to maintain a reasonable pace and was still feeling good.  

Soon enough the 4km marker appeared and I knew I had only 1km to go.  There was a young lady who had been in front of me for a while but remained stubbornly difficult to catch.  I resolved to catch her and kicked hard.  She had also sped up for the final push and try as I might I just couldn’t catch her.  Following her over the line I checked my watch and it said 26 minutes.  I had just run around 26 minutes for a 5k, having already run one 5k and cycled 15km.  6 months ago I couldn’t even run 100metres.  I was feeling quite pleased with myself.

L-R Greg, Emma, Me, Stella, Simon

Reunited with the family I had a quick chat with some of the triathlete guys, my friend Rachel took an excellent photo of us and then it was time to go home, very happy with my performance and glad to be injury free.  

Once the results came out it was time to have a look at how I had done and compare this to last year.

In the 2014 Duathlon I ran my first 5k in 28:16, took 32:39 on the bike and then the second 5k was 31:38.  Total time (including transition) – 1:32:35

In 2015 I ran the first 5k in 25:19, took 31:32 on the bike and then ran the second 5k in 26:01, for a total time of 01:24:54.

Although my bike was only slightly quicker than the previous year, 2014 was much better conditions and the wind was not close to as strong.  The thing I am so pleased about is the improvement in my running.  Also I was competing at around 85% of capacity as I have the marathon in April and picking up an injury would not have been a good plan.

So all in all 1 year on from my first ever multi-sport race there is no doubt I am fitter.  I also ran a sensible race, got my preparation right and am slowly inching towards some sort of competence in this sport.

Next event, Brighton Marathon on 12th April.  GULP!

TTFN

Snooky