Well it's under two weeks before I set out on my first Marathon and the first part of my Worcestershire Triple. This close to the event I am in what is known by pros as the taper - a period ahead of the event when the training eases off in preparation for the big event.
For us rank amateurs of course it is just a period of blessed relief when we can justify cutting the training mileage down and keep eating in the name of carbo-loading.
For my last long run I decided to have a go round the Worcester Marathon course. Or least one lap including the "extra loop" that the Marathon runners have to do.
The race is to start at Sixways (home of the Worcester Warriors Rugby Club) and knowing that the Warriors had played away on the Friday (at Leicester Tigers where they were thrashed), I expected a quiet morning run. Wrong. Very Wrong. The place was heaving with a junior rugby tournament.
Take 2. Scurrying up a nearby lane and parking in a convenient lay-by, I started the run a few hundred metres down stream, so-to-speak. Map in hand I set off alongside the Worcester-Birmingham canal and then up Smite Hill, Climet's Hill, Huddington Hill, past Hill Court, up Neight Hill and on, up, to Goosehill Green.
Mmmmm. Something about this route was beginning to niggle. What could it be? Could it be all those places with the word hill in their name? I think the usual euphemism is "undulating" but who are they kidding. The route is rollercoaster lumpy and then there is need to do two laps. And the second lap has an extra loop making it longer than the first lap. That is just plain sadistic.
At this point all my long training runs of up 21 miles in the countryside in the Severn Valley seemed a tad in-sufficient in the face a 16 mile lap of incessant undulations. Even the bridge over the canal near the end of the lap goes up and down at an obscene gradient guaranteed to trigger cramp 23 miles in.
So now I know what's in store in just over 10 days time. Until last Sunday, I thought I was ready. Now I'm not so sure. But too late now so the taper will continue ready for the big day on April 15th.
Please don't forget to sponsor me here.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Worcestershire Triple - This time it’s for cash!
Triple Madness
After doing nothing particularly insane since last July’s triathlon, I figured that in 2012 I needed to re-engage with the inner loony and do something special to honour the London Olympics.
So earlier in the year I took the plunge and entered my first marathon. Not a big city marathon (mores the pity) but the inaugural Worcester Marathon. Not content with that I also entered the full Olympic distance Upton triathlon and I couldn’t miss my annual 10k outing in the small Worcestershire Village of Crowle.
So in the matter of a couple of cold January weeks I had committed myself to three events all before Usain Bolt had book his flight to London for a couple of 10s cameo jogs in East London in August.
Given that level of insanity I reckon that it is only right and proper that I raise some cash in these credit-crunched days for a couple of really worthwhile causes that do not usually appear on the logo-ed running vests at most big charity races.
Both of my chosen charities work with children and their families suffering from forms of auto-immune inflammatory diseases; Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis (JIA) and uveitis. This is very close to my heart since both of my children have experienced these conditions.
Arthritis is not just a disease of old people.
Unfortunately about one in a thousand children in the United Kingdom suffer from Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis (JIA). Uveitis means inflammation of the uvea, the inside of the eye and up to 80% of childhood uveitis cases are linked to pre-existing or yet to be diagnosed JIA.
Being diagnosed with Uveitis and/or JIA is bewildering for children and parents alike. Believe me. I’ve been there. Most of us have never heard of these diseases until the day a doctor tells us that we have one of them. It takes some time to understand what is happening; that in many cases, your child’s immune system, something in part donated by us parents to our offspring, seems to have taken leave of its senses and attacked our children’s joints and eyes. Both conditions can strike at any age, and take one of several forms, but what is similar about the disease, is the pain and frustration that affects the child, and the feeling of disbelief that affects the whole family.
The Good Causes
The Children’s Chronic Arthritis Association (CCAA) is the leading charity run by parents and professionals to provide help and information for children with arthritis, their families and professionals involved in their care. They offer emotional and practical support to maximise choices and opportunities and raise awareness of childhood arthritis in the community.
Olivia’s Vision provides a voice for uveitis sufferers to be heard and takes action on behalf of every uveitis patient, campaigning to prevent avoidable sight loss, and fund raising to support research into the causes, treatment and potential cure of uveitis.
So this spring while you are all laughing at my ongoing Canute-like battle with middle age, help me to help these two unsung charitable organisations that are doing their bit to ensure children with arthritis and uveitis have, in turn, their future chance to do insane things in their middle age.
Please sponsor me at my Virgin Money giving page and why not triple up the donation:
Worcester Marathon 15th April 2012 (target 4:30);
Crowle 10k 13th May 2012 (target a PB);
Upton Triathlon 14th July 2012 (target 3:10).
Performance Bonus
Why not give me a reason to beat my targets by offering a performance bonus (cash only, no shares)? A proper reason to beat proper targets.
I’ll let you know how things are going and follow the training via twitter @aastill.
Time to train!
Monday, October 24, 2011
The Call of the Kiwi Spring
In the spirit of all things grandly insane I thought I would share this tale kindly provided by a close friend now residing in New Zealand. As we in the northern latitudes prepare for winter and all the joys that brings with training in the cold and dark, the southern hemisphere is gearing up for spring and summer. However, this story is less about the joys of insane outdoor exercise in the springtime but more about the dangers of getting carried away by the rising sap and the animal instincts that mother nature cruelly imposes on all creatures in the spring.
First some background. My friend John and his better half Judith are IT professionals but like many in New Zealand they also have a small holding which is home to several so-called domesticated livestock. For reasons best known to John and the economics of farming, the menagerie includes several Alpaca which as you no doubt know are a sort of llama/sheep/camel hybrid thingy. They key thing to understand about alpaca is that they have "attitude". The other thing to know is that as a small holding it is feasible for all the animals to have pet names and for those not familiar with polite British society, an ASBO is an anti-social behaviour order. Armed with this knowledge I will let John tell the story.
The conclusion from the vet was that Armondo was probably going to take somewhere between 3 days and 4 weeks for the calming effects of the operation to work. In the meantime his is still to be kept in solitary confinement. He also said that Armondo was one of the most dominant alpaca he had ever seen, and there was a chance that even with the lack of fresh testosterone, it may not cure this behaviour. When I asked what else can be done, if he doesn’t become social again, the vet quite calmly replied, ‘eat him!’.
I know this was a bit of departure from all things fitness but it made me laugh. Many thanks to John for letting me post his tale.
First some background. My friend John and his better half Judith are IT professionals but like many in New Zealand they also have a small holding which is home to several so-called domesticated livestock. For reasons best known to John and the economics of farming, the menagerie includes several Alpaca which as you no doubt know are a sort of llama/sheep/camel hybrid thingy. They key thing to understand about alpaca is that they have "attitude". The other thing to know is that as a small holding it is feasible for all the animals to have pet names and for those not familiar with polite British society, an ASBO is an anti-social behaviour order. Armed with this knowledge I will let John tell the story.
Today was the day that our overly amorous alpaca, Armondo had his ‘ASBO’ carried out by the vet. For a while now Armondo has been getting way too aggressive with Yoda (another ‘intact’ male), basically by trying to eat him whenever the two were in the same paddock. More recently he has become equally aggressive towards all of the other alpaca. While I was in the UK he managed to break the lower leg of Storm (a yearling female and his daughter). In the act of trying to separate Armondo from the female alpaca Judith also managed to break two fingers. It was at this point it was decided that his procreating days were soon to be over. We can’t breed from Yoda as the two females are related to him, so with a slightly guilty feeling we decided to organise the same treatment for him.
I had managed to herd Armondo into the stock yard and got Yoda into the adjacent barn without either of them seeing each other. They have a spit on sight policy towards each other and I didn’t want to be in the middle if they did catch a glimpse. The spit of an alpaca is composed of putrid smelling semi digested grass with a strong hint of stomach acid. It is not something that you want on your clothes let alone on bare skin. The aroma is curiously penetrative and lingers for days afterwards.
The vet turned up and decided that it would be easier to work on both of the animals in the stockyard. We devised a plan. Armondo would be tranquilised first and when he became unconscious, we would bring Yoda in and tranquilise him. With both animals unconscious the vet would then perform the operations. It was a splendid plan in all but one respect, it didn’t work! Armondo objected quite strongly to having a needle stuck into his shoulder, and it took both of us virtually sitting on him to get him to keep still long enough for the injection. The side of the stock yard was now decorated in a Jackson Pollock style green effect splatter. At least his aim was bad and he missed both of us. When the tranquiliser began to have an effect the vet suggested we hobbled Armondo to make the access to his privates easier. This involves binding the back legs up either side of his rib cage. It sounds worse than it looks and essentially it is the same position that an alpaca will use when sitting down. Despite the effects of the tranquiliser, Armondo once again started to object about the binding. This time he pebble dashed the other side of the stock yard with noxious green goo. A few minutes later when he had calmed down again, the vet gave him a second tranquiliser shot as he wasn’t asleep.
Yoda was much more compliant and got his tranquiliser shot without any trouble whilst still in the barn. The vet decided it was safe to get Yoda into the stock yard now as both animals were quite groggy, but importantly not quite asleep. Things started to go downhill from here. As soon as Armondo saw Yoda, he went bezerk, and it was as if he hadn’t had any medication at all. He was screaming with a fury that even astonished the vet, only stopping briefly to aim and fire salvoes of spit at Yoda. His back legs were tied up but he started to wriggle violently to inch forward towards Yoda. Being very unsporting, Yoda, who had use of all his legs, albeit wobbly ones, went into the offensive, letting fly with his own green goo. The vet and I intervened and pushed Yoda away, but not before the vet received a direct ‘hit’ on his jacket. It was now the turn of Yoda to get a second dose of tranquiliser and also got hobbled. The next bit reminded me of the Black knight in that Monty Python film. Neither animal had any mobility at all but they were both bouncing up and down desperately trying to fight with the other. A third shot of tranquiliser was deemed too dangerous so the vet decided to give a local anaesthetic in the soon to be removed area of both animals. The thought of an injection in that area made me wince, and it made Armondo scream some more. I almost had some sympathy with him at this point (Judith wouldn’t have).
Yoda was by now the calmest, so he was operated on first. I suspect that most males would have found the next bit a quite uncomfortable process to watch, so I won’t go into details. The job (from incision to mopping up) only took the vet a couple of minutes and Yoda didn’t make a fuss at all. Now it was the turn of Armondo. Either the spit tanks were empty or he had just given up on that particular tactic, but he was still very much awake and full of nervous energy or red mist (probably both). As soon as the vet began to feel for his targets, Armondo was objecting again. The restraints made it difficult for him to move his rear end, but I had to virtually sit on his neck to stop him thrashing about. He had given up on screaming, probably due to very sore vocal chords from the last objection, but he was breathing in and out very noisily in a sort of worried hyperventilating way. If alpacas could sweat, he would have been soaked by now. It then occurred to me that he had also just witnessed what had happened to Yoda, and probably drew an unpleasant but accurate conclusion as to what was going to happen to him now.
During the operation the vet yelled across to Yoda ‘hey he’s got much bigger nuts than you’. A little insensitive for both alpaca I thought, but maybe for a very brief second Armondo was proud. Again the procedure was quick to perform, this time with slightly less blood but precisely the same amount of cringe. Judith still has a sore hand and would have probably taken some pleasure in watching this. After a few minutes recovery we untied Yoda, encouraged him onto his feet and herded him back into the paddock to join his friends. He was a little unsteady on his legs at first but was soon moving around and grazing as if nothing had happened.
The vet noticed that Armondo’s toenails needed clipping so he decided to do this whilst he was still restrained. I held onto the spitting end and the vet clipped the nails on both front feet. Just as the vet was about to clip the last rear toenail, Armondo saw an opportunity, and seized it. The tool used to clip alpaca toenails looks like a pair of secateurs and are just as sharp. Timing it to perfection, Armondo twitched his back leg which caused the vet to slip and stab his thumb with the tips of the tool.
I think it is a common human trait to apply anthropomorphic personifications onto animals, so in keeping with this tradition I will say that at this point Armondo did look like he had a vengeful smug grin on his face. The vet went off to bandage his hand and then we untied Armondo. With no other alpaca around, Armondo was back to his normal placid self. When I let him into the paddock, I couldn’t help noticing that he was walking normally from the front end, but the back end was very different. He had a developed a distinctive ‘John Wayne’ wide gait and picked his back legs up tentatively, like they were on a very sticky surface.
I know this was a bit of departure from all things fitness but it made me laugh. Many thanks to John for letting me post his tale.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Insane transitions
It is a long time since the Upton Triathlon and I am overdue an update on my performance on the day. Well, I am able to report that I completed the sprint distance in a time of 1:40 and some seconds which was pretty much on target.
The swim was a reasonable 17 odd minutes which was actually fantastic given my more normal pool and lake times for 750m. I was expecting something slower than 20 minutes. I was only overtaken by a couple of uber-fit women from their start which was about 5 mins behind mine. I even managed to get out of the wetsuit quite quickly so a transition of sub 4 minutes was a good achievement.
Of course the leaders were much quicker and probably several miles ahead on their bikes before I even mounted mine. Nevertheless, my cycle was bang on expectations and if it wasn't for the very long section of bike pushing from transition to mount/dismount the bike time would have been around 45mins. As it was the official time was still under 50 mins so again on target.
The run was slow by normal 5k expectations but on reflection the 28 minutes was not too bad on the back of a swim and cycle. All in all I could have expected any more and so I went away happy.
But Grand Insanity is less about the performance and more about the delusional "what might have been" and what about the next one? If I had managed to transition as efficiently as the leaders then I would have shaved around 4 minutes off the time. After all, to swim, cycle and run fast requires fitness and athleticism.. To change clothes is something we all do everyday. So why can it be so hard? I had all my stuff laid out like everyone else. I had a check list taped to my plastic box (yes I had a plastic box just like the pros), I had abandoned any notion of cycling and running in socks and decided to forego donning another running top over the tri-vest thereby condemning the spectators to the unedifying sight of over-flabby and underdeveloped triceps blobbing up and down for the rest of the race.
But despite all this I was as far away from the leaders in transition times in relative terms as I was in the actual athletic events. Perhaps I need a transition training regime? I wonder if there are classes - body pump or zumba followed by a quick change class! Perhaps it is about rolling out of bed, dressing in 10s, sprinting to shower, undress in 10s and then re-dress in less than 20s. If that is the case perhaps we should consider adding an extra element to transition. Making toast and coffee on the way out would perhaps even the odds for us more normal people. Top athletes should be made to cook a full english by way of a handicap. I rather fancy a bacon butty as I start the cycle.
Anyway, I am clearly losing it after a long summer along with my fitness which tanked after a fortnight in the med trying to windsurf. Now that is truly an insane activity.
The swim was a reasonable 17 odd minutes which was actually fantastic given my more normal pool and lake times for 750m. I was expecting something slower than 20 minutes. I was only overtaken by a couple of uber-fit women from their start which was about 5 mins behind mine. I even managed to get out of the wetsuit quite quickly so a transition of sub 4 minutes was a good achievement.
Of course the leaders were much quicker and probably several miles ahead on their bikes before I even mounted mine. Nevertheless, my cycle was bang on expectations and if it wasn't for the very long section of bike pushing from transition to mount/dismount the bike time would have been around 45mins. As it was the official time was still under 50 mins so again on target.
The run was slow by normal 5k expectations but on reflection the 28 minutes was not too bad on the back of a swim and cycle. All in all I could have expected any more and so I went away happy.
But Grand Insanity is less about the performance and more about the delusional "what might have been" and what about the next one? If I had managed to transition as efficiently as the leaders then I would have shaved around 4 minutes off the time. After all, to swim, cycle and run fast requires fitness and athleticism.. To change clothes is something we all do everyday. So why can it be so hard? I had all my stuff laid out like everyone else. I had a check list taped to my plastic box (yes I had a plastic box just like the pros), I had abandoned any notion of cycling and running in socks and decided to forego donning another running top over the tri-vest thereby condemning the spectators to the unedifying sight of over-flabby and underdeveloped triceps blobbing up and down for the rest of the race.
But despite all this I was as far away from the leaders in transition times in relative terms as I was in the actual athletic events. Perhaps I need a transition training regime? I wonder if there are classes - body pump or zumba followed by a quick change class! Perhaps it is about rolling out of bed, dressing in 10s, sprinting to shower, undress in 10s and then re-dress in less than 20s. If that is the case perhaps we should consider adding an extra element to transition. Making toast and coffee on the way out would perhaps even the odds for us more normal people. Top athletes should be made to cook a full english by way of a handicap. I rather fancy a bacon butty as I start the cycle.
Anyway, I am clearly losing it after a long summer along with my fitness which tanked after a fortnight in the med trying to windsurf. Now that is truly an insane activity.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
To do or Tri!
Only 4 days to go. The moment of truth approaches. This Saturday (9th July 2011) at 13:35 I enter the water with my fellow male sprint competitors to start the Upton Triathlon. First task to survive the 750m downstream swim in the river Severn. Next task, try to avoid being overtaken by too many of the sprint women who start 5 minutes later; fat chance there I feel as the swimming is by far my slowest event. Despite 6 months of training and well meaning coaching, I anticipate a energy sapping and inelegant 20-25 minute thrash in the water.
Swim over the fiendish challenge of getting out of the water and out of the wetsuit then arrives. This takes place in the full view of the majority of spectators at this event which is hardly surprising since it provides them with the most interesting and amusing sight of the event. Overweight and undertrained blokes trying to extracate themselves from rubber suits which they were assured should be on the small size to work properly. This is of course a conspiracy by triathlon organisers to ensure they get a good crowd but it can be a bit unpleasant viewing when too much compressed beer belly is released all of a sudden!
Wetsuit off and hopefully I will manage to get through the transition to the 21km bike ride without forgetting cycle helmet (compulsory), race number on back (compulsory) gloves, bum-bag with tools and spare inner tube and pump, sunglasses and, of course, cycle shoes. If I can do all that in less than 5 minutes it will be a miricle!. Less than 10 will be good going.
Once on the bike and attached to pedals I then have to contend with traffic (now closed roads on this event) and obscure no-drafting rules on the cycle leg of the race. No-drafting means no "tour de France" style peleton formation or slip-streaming from cyclists in front. In the rare event that I actually catch-up with another cyclist I then have a strict time limit in which to come within 8 metres, pass and then pull away. Not even time to say "hello, how its going?". Seems so complicated that it is probably best to avoid overtaking altogether.
After around 50-55 minutes (for that is my estimate of how long it will take me depending on how much the swim takes out of me) I will return to the cycle dismount zone. A strictly defined small patch of road a long way from the tranistion area where I will have to contort my feet to un-clip the shoes from the pedals without falling off. I then have to try running with the bike and cycle shoes (not easy) to the transition for the second time.
This time the tasks are: find where I left my kit; hope there is still a spot to re-rack my bike; remove helmet; remove cycle shoes; remove bum-bag; drink; put on running shoes; race number to front (compulsory), and then head off for the 5km run. This should be quicker than the first transition.
As I have already remarked in an earlier blog, running after cycling is a very wierd sensation. The legs are still trying to spin at 60-80 rpm and the butt muscles are locked into cycle based up and down mode rather than running front to rear. The next 5km will be akin to running on stilts (something I confess to have never done so technically I am not sure I am qualified to make this analogy) and if I am not completely wiped out I may get round in better than 9 minute miles so 25 minutes would be good.
So if the plan works, I will finish in under 2 hours including lengthy and no doubt hilarious transitions. I'll let you know if it goes to plan.
Swim over the fiendish challenge of getting out of the water and out of the wetsuit then arrives. This takes place in the full view of the majority of spectators at this event which is hardly surprising since it provides them with the most interesting and amusing sight of the event. Overweight and undertrained blokes trying to extracate themselves from rubber suits which they were assured should be on the small size to work properly. This is of course a conspiracy by triathlon organisers to ensure they get a good crowd but it can be a bit unpleasant viewing when too much compressed beer belly is released all of a sudden!
Wetsuit off and hopefully I will manage to get through the transition to the 21km bike ride without forgetting cycle helmet (compulsory), race number on back (compulsory) gloves, bum-bag with tools and spare inner tube and pump, sunglasses and, of course, cycle shoes. If I can do all that in less than 5 minutes it will be a miricle!. Less than 10 will be good going.
Once on the bike and attached to pedals I then have to contend with traffic (now closed roads on this event) and obscure no-drafting rules on the cycle leg of the race. No-drafting means no "tour de France" style peleton formation or slip-streaming from cyclists in front. In the rare event that I actually catch-up with another cyclist I then have a strict time limit in which to come within 8 metres, pass and then pull away. Not even time to say "hello, how its going?". Seems so complicated that it is probably best to avoid overtaking altogether.
After around 50-55 minutes (for that is my estimate of how long it will take me depending on how much the swim takes out of me) I will return to the cycle dismount zone. A strictly defined small patch of road a long way from the tranistion area where I will have to contort my feet to un-clip the shoes from the pedals without falling off. I then have to try running with the bike and cycle shoes (not easy) to the transition for the second time.
This time the tasks are: find where I left my kit; hope there is still a spot to re-rack my bike; remove helmet; remove cycle shoes; remove bum-bag; drink; put on running shoes; race number to front (compulsory), and then head off for the 5km run. This should be quicker than the first transition.
As I have already remarked in an earlier blog, running after cycling is a very wierd sensation. The legs are still trying to spin at 60-80 rpm and the butt muscles are locked into cycle based up and down mode rather than running front to rear. The next 5km will be akin to running on stilts (something I confess to have never done so technically I am not sure I am qualified to make this analogy) and if I am not completely wiped out I may get round in better than 9 minute miles so 25 minutes would be good.
So if the plan works, I will finish in under 2 hours including lengthy and no doubt hilarious transitions. I'll let you know if it goes to plan.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Sport-for-all - if you're good enough
It's been some time since my last post during which time spring has sprung and the daylight in the evening has brought forth increased opportunity for guilt at not training more. The running is going OK but I must avoid the temptation to rack up the mileage past experience has taught me that this the fastest way to an inflamed achilles.
The bike training is also OK and I have now managed to get up to British Camp (twice) the hard way - up a particularly steep hill at Little Malvern so I reckon I must be improving.
The same cannot be said of the swimming. I recently suffered the acute embarrassment of being asked to leave the serious lane and join the duffers lane with all the flowery swim hats and bobbing breaststrokers. Try as I might the technique is still not there and, therefore, nor is the speed. No amount of frantic windmill arms gets the speed and as for kicking; well that's just a senseless waste of energy particularly with a bike and run to come.
However, the shame of being too slow set me thinking of other examples where the veneer of sport-for-all cracks under the strain of sporting ineptitude.
In my more youthful days I was tempted to join a local tennis club by the promise of friendly club nights of social tennis. No matter what the standard, the claim was that club nights would be for all abilities for a friendly game of tennis. Of course the reality didn't match the rhetoric. Those of a more limited ability soon found that they were "engineered" out of games involving those who preferred not to tailor their game in the interest of a social game. After a few weeks the friendly welcome reduced to an embarrassed nod and frantic attempts to arrange matches within their elite clique usually accompanied with pseudo-helpful comments like "we'll try and match you with similar ability people as you'll enjoy it more" or similar condescending clap trap.
Later in a rehearsal for a mid-life crisis yet to come, I took up golf. If ever there was a schizophrenic sport it is golf. On the one hand it has a built-in ability levelling system in the form of the handicap. This should allow crap golfers to play alongside better golfers. But crap golfers take more shots, endanger more players on adjacent holes, loose more balls and, this is the real killer, take longer to play. Nothing but nothing causes competent golfers to hurrumph and grumble more that slow play. While Tiger Woods and his chums can happily trot round 18 holes in 4 and a half hours, such a time for your newbie high handicapper will bring howls of protest from club mid-handicappers who think you should be charging round in 3-3.5 hours. As with my tennis experience, this ability elitism is rife and is a massive disincentive.
So now we have to add swimming to the world of ability snobbery. A great fitness activity for all, swimming cannot be allowed to descend to these levels. We can' t all be Michael Phelps. Whatever next, rambling?
The bike training is also OK and I have now managed to get up to British Camp (twice) the hard way - up a particularly steep hill at Little Malvern so I reckon I must be improving.
The same cannot be said of the swimming. I recently suffered the acute embarrassment of being asked to leave the serious lane and join the duffers lane with all the flowery swim hats and bobbing breaststrokers. Try as I might the technique is still not there and, therefore, nor is the speed. No amount of frantic windmill arms gets the speed and as for kicking; well that's just a senseless waste of energy particularly with a bike and run to come.
However, the shame of being too slow set me thinking of other examples where the veneer of sport-for-all cracks under the strain of sporting ineptitude.
In my more youthful days I was tempted to join a local tennis club by the promise of friendly club nights of social tennis. No matter what the standard, the claim was that club nights would be for all abilities for a friendly game of tennis. Of course the reality didn't match the rhetoric. Those of a more limited ability soon found that they were "engineered" out of games involving those who preferred not to tailor their game in the interest of a social game. After a few weeks the friendly welcome reduced to an embarrassed nod and frantic attempts to arrange matches within their elite clique usually accompanied with pseudo-helpful comments like "we'll try and match you with similar ability people as you'll enjoy it more" or similar condescending clap trap.
Later in a rehearsal for a mid-life crisis yet to come, I took up golf. If ever there was a schizophrenic sport it is golf. On the one hand it has a built-in ability levelling system in the form of the handicap. This should allow crap golfers to play alongside better golfers. But crap golfers take more shots, endanger more players on adjacent holes, loose more balls and, this is the real killer, take longer to play. Nothing but nothing causes competent golfers to hurrumph and grumble more that slow play. While Tiger Woods and his chums can happily trot round 18 holes in 4 and a half hours, such a time for your newbie high handicapper will bring howls of protest from club mid-handicappers who think you should be charging round in 3-3.5 hours. As with my tennis experience, this ability elitism is rife and is a massive disincentive.
So now we have to add swimming to the world of ability snobbery. A great fitness activity for all, swimming cannot be allowed to descend to these levels. We can' t all be Michael Phelps. Whatever next, rambling?
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Duathlon Lessons
I have now formally entered the world of multi-activity races with a duathlon last Sunday. It was a small local event and for those interested in the stats the results are here. I wasn't last but as good as. However, the real benefit was the learning gained in this new world of tri and duathlons.
Lesson 1
Don't believe event organisers when they say that their event is used by lots of newbies. Hah! at the gun the field set-off like greyhounds on the 1st leg; a 4 mile (7km) run. This was nothing like the starts encountered in mass run 10km or half marathon races or even smaller events like the Upon Bishop Big Dipper. This was clearly a race of superfits where the majority of participants put in better than 6 minute mile pace. I was left trailing way behind with no one around to use to judge pace. By the end of the race I was dodging the leaders heading home and marshals eagerly clearing up; never the best way to finish any event.
So expect the field to be superfits a plenty and pretty thin on first time fun runner types. This is clearly a very different world.
Lesson 2
Don't celebrate not being lapped on the cycle course before starting the last lap. Starting the ride so far behind the pack left few targets. OK, so I did catch two but I was caught by two of the few I did finish ahead of in run 1. So the best I could hope for was avoiding a lapping. I was about 200m from achieving this when the two leaders went past like I was standing still. This was a 9 mile lead! devastating.
Lesson 3
Running after cycling is unbelievably painful. The cycle after the run was not has difficult as I had been expecting. However, my body exacted revenge when the 2nd run came. Although only 2 miles, it was like running on stilts. Butt muscles I didn't know existed seized solid and legs just refused to bend or extend into any kind of stride. My 8 min/mile pace of the first run collapsed to a nearly 9:30 min/mile pace. This is going to need some attention in training.
Lesson 4
The vaguaries of transition. This was a great lesson. Transition is the rather cliquey word used to describe the scramble to get out of one set of kit and don the paraphernalia needed for the next activity. Running shoes off, cycle shoes on, helmet on, change of gloves etc etc. First, remember where you put your bike. Sounds simple, but when kit is strewn everywhere, so many bikes that look similar and the fact that you arrived knackered it can be hard to navigate Of course arriving from Run 1 so far behind everyone else made it easier, but arriving back from the cycle also far behind meant finding my space and re-racking the bike surprisingly difficult.
I was also amazed at how fast the tri-nuts do transition. I thought my times of just under 2 mins not too bad but most of the participants had this down to a 30-45s activity. So practice here is required although I note that had I transitioned in the average time the improvement in overall time would only have moved me up 3 places.
Lesson 5
Get a box. It seemed so obvious when I saw it but I arrived wondering to manage quick access to cycle kit, keeping it dry during the run and storing the running shoes in the dry during the cycle. I had a sports bag, bin liners (standard issue for fun runners) and plastic bags. Proper tri-nuts simply turned up with a plastic storage box with clip-on lid. Problem solved.
So the Peopleton Duathlon was a great learning experience and in spite of a lowly finishing place I actually went quicker than I had expected. But must practice changing shoes and must get a box.
Lesson 1
Don't believe event organisers when they say that their event is used by lots of newbies. Hah! at the gun the field set-off like greyhounds on the 1st leg; a 4 mile (7km) run. This was nothing like the starts encountered in mass run 10km or half marathon races or even smaller events like the Upon Bishop Big Dipper. This was clearly a race of superfits where the majority of participants put in better than 6 minute mile pace. I was left trailing way behind with no one around to use to judge pace. By the end of the race I was dodging the leaders heading home and marshals eagerly clearing up; never the best way to finish any event.
So expect the field to be superfits a plenty and pretty thin on first time fun runner types. This is clearly a very different world.
Lesson 2
Don't celebrate not being lapped on the cycle course before starting the last lap. Starting the ride so far behind the pack left few targets. OK, so I did catch two but I was caught by two of the few I did finish ahead of in run 1. So the best I could hope for was avoiding a lapping. I was about 200m from achieving this when the two leaders went past like I was standing still. This was a 9 mile lead! devastating.
Lesson 3
Running after cycling is unbelievably painful. The cycle after the run was not has difficult as I had been expecting. However, my body exacted revenge when the 2nd run came. Although only 2 miles, it was like running on stilts. Butt muscles I didn't know existed seized solid and legs just refused to bend or extend into any kind of stride. My 8 min/mile pace of the first run collapsed to a nearly 9:30 min/mile pace. This is going to need some attention in training.
Lesson 4
The vaguaries of transition. This was a great lesson. Transition is the rather cliquey word used to describe the scramble to get out of one set of kit and don the paraphernalia needed for the next activity. Running shoes off, cycle shoes on, helmet on, change of gloves etc etc. First, remember where you put your bike. Sounds simple, but when kit is strewn everywhere, so many bikes that look similar and the fact that you arrived knackered it can be hard to navigate Of course arriving from Run 1 so far behind everyone else made it easier, but arriving back from the cycle also far behind meant finding my space and re-racking the bike surprisingly difficult.
I was also amazed at how fast the tri-nuts do transition. I thought my times of just under 2 mins not too bad but most of the participants had this down to a 30-45s activity. So practice here is required although I note that had I transitioned in the average time the improvement in overall time would only have moved me up 3 places.
Lesson 5
Get a box. It seemed so obvious when I saw it but I arrived wondering to manage quick access to cycle kit, keeping it dry during the run and storing the running shoes in the dry during the cycle. I had a sports bag, bin liners (standard issue for fun runners) and plastic bags. Proper tri-nuts simply turned up with a plastic storage box with clip-on lid. Problem solved.
So the Peopleton Duathlon was a great learning experience and in spite of a lowly finishing place I actually went quicker than I had expected. But must practice changing shoes and must get a box.
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