My GOD it was cold today. Not a day for cycling. As I was driving to the meet up point there was the most stunning sunrise, and I thought it was going to be one of those nice clear-blue-skied cold but not too cold sunny mornings. I was soooo wrong. The sun, having lured me into a false sense of security, promptly decided it wasn't going to come out to play today. Where it rose to I have no idea, because it definitely wasn't here!
We set off, me expecting I'd be ok, finally having bought a pair of winter gloves last week (£26.99!!) I expected I'd soon warm up. The ends of my fingers instantly went numb. And stayed that way until finally starting to come back to life after around 25 minutes. I began to sympathise with all the films I've seen where people have had frostbite. It hurts when your hands are cold, then you get the numb bit, and then comes the thaw. And the thaw aches and throbs so much that you want to just stay numb!
Started to try to drink, and I say started because that was the word. The drink in my bottles was so cold that my sensitive teeth couldn't bear it! I tried hugging the bottle to me to warm it a bit, but as I wasn't generating much heat anyway my body wasn't having that, it wasn't sharing, full stop. Apart from that, a little logic please. I'm freezing. Do I want to put something freezing into my body? No. Not the most appealing thought. So I put the drink back and tried not to think about it. (Particularly I tried not to think about the last time I went out for a long ride and didn't drink I ended up being rescued at the roadside, I HAVE to drink and eat regularly, or I crumble, simple as that, so listen up teeth, you've got to stop complaining and embrace the slush puppy)
Rounding a corner, we had to stop at a railway crossing. I took the opportunity to take a picture for my visual log. (I'd put it on here if I knew how!) Kept my gloves on, am not that brave. But I may as well have taken them off, because as we set off again my fingers had numbed for the second time, and this time my toes joined in, as did my shoulders and thighs! They were all having a right little 'we're cold' party! At least teeth had calmed down a bit and felt cosy.
From this point on, I could not get warm again. I flapped my arms up and down, did some hard efforts, Tucked one hand at a time under my armpit, but nothing worked. Most things I can cope with, wind, rain, heat, but I absolutely hate being cold. I'm one of the few people left in the country that still goes to bed with a hot water bottle. Yes, seriously. It's a fluffy one with dogs on it.
I get really stroppy really quickly if I'm cold. My inner dialogue at this point went something like - ''What the hell am I doing? Why am I here? What kind of weirdo gets up at 6.30 to go cycling in the middle of *expletive deleted* January? I want to go home! I'm freezing, I want a cup of tea and a blanket! For *expletive deleted* sake, WHY did I want to do a stupid Ironman anyway?! What's the point? I could have done a sprint and been happy with that, then I'd only have to cycle for 2 hours, not 4! But no, I have to be different, I have to think I want to do it, so here I am now with body parts that feel like they don't belong to me!*expletive deleted* *expletive deleted* *expletive deleted* *EXPLETIVE DELETED* !!!
And that was the tame version.
Halfway round I was in extreme pain. So much so that when I bent my fingers it almost bought tears to my eyes. Someone kindly offered to swap gloves with me. The gloves were pretty much the same as mine, but they did have some of her heat in them, so for about 15 minutes I was given a break! But again the cold crept in and my hands froze. What the hell do people do on arctic expeditions?! At least I know that although I'm stupid enough to enter an Iron Distance tri, I will NEVER be stupid enough to go anywhere with bears and ice. No thanks, I'll leave that to Sir Ranulph.
Someone in the group then got a puncture, so the rest of us had to stop and wait. That didn't help much. But it did help with my neuroticism slightly. You see, in my world, bad things happen in threes. That's now three people who have had a puncture, so chances are I'm safe. Until the same person got another one further on, which messes my whole idea up. Someone else suggested that maybe I will get two as well, but at the same time. I knew when he was riding behind me, because I could hear pssssssss. The first time I did think it was my tyre and almost had a seizure, until I saw him laughing, and realised he was winding me up. I think he's just jealous because the puncture demon got him last week, and so far it hasn't got me, so I am obviously loved. Although it does haunt my dreams...
I had a puncture dream the other night. I was in a race and my front tyre went flat. I hope that is not a premonition, but rather an indication of how much I'm obsessing! I need to chill out. You've heard the inner voice for cold, multiply by 100 for puncture!
For some reason today we only managed to cover 50 miles, and I wasn't happy with my fingers and toes for letting me down. I felt like I could have done more, and wasn't very tired. I'm keen to up my milage now, I want to prove to myself that I can do it. I was meant to have a 30 minute run off the bike, but as my feet didn't belong to me I wasn't going anywhere but the warm kitchen for a cup of tea. I fully expected to take my gloves off and my fingers to still be in there, but thankfully they were still attached. It took two cups of tea to convince me of that though. It's strange because usually I get warm very quickly, and I've never ever been cold on a ride! But for the last twenty miles or so I was shaking all over. Ooh..Just thought.. MAYBE it's because I've lost all my body fat and am now a lean mean triathlon machine? In that case I'd best have another piece of cake.
The things we go through for our sport... Apparently it's ''charecter building''. Mmm. I don't think I want any more charecter, I've got enough. So, wind last week, ice this week, what next week? Tsunami?
Off for a nice hot bath now.
Didn't enjoy all of today, but I know this will be fantastic to look back on, to remember the ups, downs, and inbetweens, and to be proud that I stuck at it. So I am glad I'm doing it. Even if a sprint would have been easier. :)
Sunday, 29 January 2012
Monday, 23 January 2012
Gone With The Wind and Man-ning Up.. Literally.
Firstly I'd just like to thank everyone for their lovely comments since I began this, it always gives me a huge grin when I see that someone is enjoying my ramblings! It's really flattering to think people take the time to read and feedback, and it encourages me to keep writing. Gotta keep my fans happy after all.. : p
Anyway, to the point, as I'm sure some people don't care if I'm flattered and grinning or not.
Sunday is the day for the long ride. Currently I'm up to 4 hours. So yesterday I was dutifully up at 7am, Ready for the 8.30am start, not wanting to be late (set off point is 40 minutes away) I load the bike onto the rack- (being careful not to scratch it, I check before and after, I get really upset if there is a new mark. Actually this isn't healthy. A year ago I had an accident and went over the handlebars, resulting in losing most of my front tooth, and smashing my chin and lower lip up. When I gained conciousness I slurred through broken mouth to the policeman ''Is the bike ok? is it scratched? Is it bent?'' I'm sure he thought I had some kind of concussion as the paramedic picked my tooth and me off the floor. - No darling, sadly not, this IS my personality, not a side effect from banging my head. Imagine living with it and you'll understand what I go through 24/7- As the doors were closing to take me to hospital I was straining to see if he was treating it gently....) -and off I go.
I really felt the part, I've got some new lycra that looks bloody brilliant, and it matches my bike. (What a geek, and not in a good way, my lycra fetish is wrong. I should be buying pretty dresses and handbags, not cycling stuff) I also really love these rides, the people I go out with are great, it's a brilliant social time. Probably not the point, but in my head that's the best bit. Along with the cake. Luuuurve the cake.
On Saturday our organiser, chef, bike spares shop owner, doctor/medic, (me- I bonked. Which isn't a reference to the slang term for getting your leg over that you learnt at school, it's actually a technical sports term for ''ran out of carbohydrate, has depleted glycogen stores, keeled over'' thank you very much. I was fed Jelly babies, and reminded to drink every 15 minutes by a loud ''DRINK CAYCI''!!!) route planner, assistant of the met office weather control, rescuer of people by the wayside (me again- when I got off the bike and declared I absolutely was not going any further, let me tell you, I was a sad little folorn figure walking up the side of that long looooong road, and have never been so pleased to see that 4x4 zooming to my rescue, but that's a story for another day), unofficial coach and general centre of the gathering texted me to say the weather was predicted to be quite windy. (She checks it before every ride)
Driving there I was thinking, arh, this isn't so bad.. The car wasn't shaking, the trees were hardly moving. In those 40 minutes something changed.When I arrived I opened the door and nearly got blown into the wall opposite! Any cyclist will tell you that the worst case scenario for a ride/race is wind. It slows you right down, and just makes the whole experience strength sapping, morale sapping, ''this is fun'' sapping, social sapping (you can't hear a word anyone is saying, so no point speaking, save your energy) not to mention dangerous. A lightweight road bike is no match for crosswinds, headwinds, winds that gush from cars/lorries, or any bloody winds at all!! AWAY WITH THE WIND I SAY, AWAY WITH THE WIND!!
*breathe*
Anyway, after we were all finally ready, (13 of us this week) amid positive comments like, ''This is going to be soul destroying'' ''The worst worst worst experience ever'' ''I don't fancy doing 4 hours in this'', we set off.
The first ten miles or so were fine.. I'm really trying to get faster now, (unsuccessfully my Garmin tells me, sure there's something wrong with it) so I pushed as hard as I dared knowing I still had ages to go. We had a shout from the back to stop about an hour in, which was whispered through the ranks as the 'P' word.. That's twice it's happened to other people now.. Oh my God, they say bad luck comes in threes don't they,
Will I be next?! Is this really it?! Will I ever ride again?! Tune in next week to find out folks!!
*breathe*
The first part of the ride was simply luring us into a false sense of security, we turned a corner, and suddenly it jumped right at us. Or in this case, swirled, gusted, blew, howled, pushed, and raged. Not to be put off, I went on the drops, trying to stay low as possible. Unfortunately I can't stay like that for long, because of the saddle thing. My bits really hurt! Must get a womens specific one. One made of silk would be nice. Or bubbles. I started thinking that men must be better off, because they can lift and tuck out of the way. Or maybe they can take it off and put it in their bag. I know I said in the last post they can't but mm. I think there is deception going on here. How can anyone be comfy on those seats? I seem to be the only one squirming after an hour or two. Maybe I just need to man up, so to speak. But not literally. No thanks.
Anyway, we heard another shout from the back, and stopped again. we thought it was another puncture,
(at which I nearly had a meltdown of anxiety, 'It'll be me next, I just know it, it's coming for mmeeee')
but it turned out that through a gap in the hedge, a particularly nasty gust had sneakily shot out and blew a rider from his bike.
Anyone else seeing a theme here? It was ''Free Willy'' last post, Now it's ''Gone With The Wind''! Guess next weeks' film and win a flatscreen TV!
Now I don't think he'll mind me saying that he is rather slight, and rather small in build. By that I mean he has not an ounce of fat anywhere. My thigh is probably wider. (talking to him after I offered to give him some of my fat from my ass and hips, sharing and caring, that's me)Unfortunately I'm one of those awful people that always laughs when someone trips, or falls over. I can't help it, humans are supposed to be upright, and when they aren't it's just hilarious.
What made me giggle even more was that it was him. (On a previous ride he'd hit the deck after forgetting to unclip, right in front of us, and in spectacular style, not at the side of the puddle, but right in it)
Anyway, trying my best to be tactful I went up and showed my concern in my own special style of a yorkshire farmer way- ''I didn't know you got blew off, ya should get sum stew dahn ya, get some meat on ya bones boy!'' then rode off thinking how great it was that something exciting had happened for me to blog about. (I think he knows what I'm like by now, and I did care enough to offer him MY fat anyway)
After a few more sapping of everything miles there was yet ANOTHER shout to stop. What now?! Has someone lost a wheel? Ran out of jaffa cakes or sour snakes? (poetry as well, you get everything here) Been carried off to the land of Oz by the wind?!
No, someone had gone the wrong way, straight on instead of turning. The social sapping of wind is an important factor, not only do you miss out on what your mate did last night, you also can't hear frantic screams of ''LEFT! LEFT! TURN LEFT!! and carry on happily, unaware that in this case, some poor sod gets extra miles added on peddling after you to bring you back.
That gave the rest of us 15 minutes to stand around talking about- the wind.
It's true what foreigners say about the English. We are obsessed with the weather, first time we get to talk without sign language and we discuss that. Even here isn't safe, it's all I've gone on about.
Anyway, for the rest of the ride, aside from a wee stop where 5 people all lined up making a very pretty sight on the horizon and a few car drivers stare, nothing much else happened.
I had a discussion about what I'm going to do about this at the Outlaw. I don't ever really need to wee when I'm out on the bike for these rides, but that's because they aren't that long yet. (4 hours, not that long, now I know I'm slowly decending to madness) Obviously I will have to at some point though, and in the race.
I just will not be getting my backside out. No way. I explained to the others who were sceptic, it's for the good of Nottingham and my fellow competitors, I'm thinking of them!! That's the last thing they'd want to see when they're already suffering.
I've heard of a device called a shewee, which allows a woman to stand up and pee like a bloke.(Sports people and campers use them, I have not made enquiries at the gender reassignment clinic). It's like a cardboard tube thing apparently. Which brings a whole new thing to the table really. I have to decide if I do want to ''man up'' Literally this time, or make suffer the others. Mm. Decisions decisions!!
Doing this event isn't just about the training, it's also about all the little stuff inbetween, including the things, as a woman, you naturally worry about. Should I wear waterproof make up so I look half decent in the finishing picture? Will false nails get in my way? Should my nail varnish match my suit or my bike? What the hell is my hair going to look like after all that time? And my skin? I can't stop to cleanse, tone, and moisturise can I?
And the big wee debate- Shewee or squat?
I've also seriously thought about taking a small bottle of mouthwash with me to use in T2 (transition 2, the bit when you are changing from the bike to the run) because the effect of sports drinks, bars and gels on your teeth isn't great. And neither is the aftertaste. (I want one part of me to feel good and revitalised)
Off to make a cup of tea. I've got a lot to think about ;)
Anyway, to the point, as I'm sure some people don't care if I'm flattered and grinning or not.
Sunday is the day for the long ride. Currently I'm up to 4 hours. So yesterday I was dutifully up at 7am, Ready for the 8.30am start, not wanting to be late (set off point is 40 minutes away) I load the bike onto the rack- (being careful not to scratch it, I check before and after, I get really upset if there is a new mark. Actually this isn't healthy. A year ago I had an accident and went over the handlebars, resulting in losing most of my front tooth, and smashing my chin and lower lip up. When I gained conciousness I slurred through broken mouth to the policeman ''Is the bike ok? is it scratched? Is it bent?'' I'm sure he thought I had some kind of concussion as the paramedic picked my tooth and me off the floor. - No darling, sadly not, this IS my personality, not a side effect from banging my head. Imagine living with it and you'll understand what I go through 24/7- As the doors were closing to take me to hospital I was straining to see if he was treating it gently....) -and off I go.
I really felt the part, I've got some new lycra that looks bloody brilliant, and it matches my bike. (What a geek, and not in a good way, my lycra fetish is wrong. I should be buying pretty dresses and handbags, not cycling stuff) I also really love these rides, the people I go out with are great, it's a brilliant social time. Probably not the point, but in my head that's the best bit. Along with the cake. Luuuurve the cake.
On Saturday our organiser, chef, bike spares shop owner, doctor/medic, (me- I bonked. Which isn't a reference to the slang term for getting your leg over that you learnt at school, it's actually a technical sports term for ''ran out of carbohydrate, has depleted glycogen stores, keeled over'' thank you very much. I was fed Jelly babies, and reminded to drink every 15 minutes by a loud ''DRINK CAYCI''!!!) route planner, assistant of the met office weather control, rescuer of people by the wayside (me again- when I got off the bike and declared I absolutely was not going any further, let me tell you, I was a sad little folorn figure walking up the side of that long looooong road, and have never been so pleased to see that 4x4 zooming to my rescue, but that's a story for another day), unofficial coach and general centre of the gathering texted me to say the weather was predicted to be quite windy. (She checks it before every ride)
Driving there I was thinking, arh, this isn't so bad.. The car wasn't shaking, the trees were hardly moving. In those 40 minutes something changed.When I arrived I opened the door and nearly got blown into the wall opposite! Any cyclist will tell you that the worst case scenario for a ride/race is wind. It slows you right down, and just makes the whole experience strength sapping, morale sapping, ''this is fun'' sapping, social sapping (you can't hear a word anyone is saying, so no point speaking, save your energy) not to mention dangerous. A lightweight road bike is no match for crosswinds, headwinds, winds that gush from cars/lorries, or any bloody winds at all!! AWAY WITH THE WIND I SAY, AWAY WITH THE WIND!!
*breathe*
Anyway, after we were all finally ready, (13 of us this week) amid positive comments like, ''This is going to be soul destroying'' ''The worst worst worst experience ever'' ''I don't fancy doing 4 hours in this'', we set off.
The first ten miles or so were fine.. I'm really trying to get faster now, (unsuccessfully my Garmin tells me, sure there's something wrong with it) so I pushed as hard as I dared knowing I still had ages to go. We had a shout from the back to stop about an hour in, which was whispered through the ranks as the 'P' word.. That's twice it's happened to other people now.. Oh my God, they say bad luck comes in threes don't they,
Will I be next?! Is this really it?! Will I ever ride again?! Tune in next week to find out folks!!
*breathe*
The first part of the ride was simply luring us into a false sense of security, we turned a corner, and suddenly it jumped right at us. Or in this case, swirled, gusted, blew, howled, pushed, and raged. Not to be put off, I went on the drops, trying to stay low as possible. Unfortunately I can't stay like that for long, because of the saddle thing. My bits really hurt! Must get a womens specific one. One made of silk would be nice. Or bubbles. I started thinking that men must be better off, because they can lift and tuck out of the way. Or maybe they can take it off and put it in their bag. I know I said in the last post they can't but mm. I think there is deception going on here. How can anyone be comfy on those seats? I seem to be the only one squirming after an hour or two. Maybe I just need to man up, so to speak. But not literally. No thanks.
Anyway, we heard another shout from the back, and stopped again. we thought it was another puncture,
(at which I nearly had a meltdown of anxiety, 'It'll be me next, I just know it, it's coming for mmeeee')
but it turned out that through a gap in the hedge, a particularly nasty gust had sneakily shot out and blew a rider from his bike.
Anyone else seeing a theme here? It was ''Free Willy'' last post, Now it's ''Gone With The Wind''! Guess next weeks' film and win a flatscreen TV!
Now I don't think he'll mind me saying that he is rather slight, and rather small in build. By that I mean he has not an ounce of fat anywhere. My thigh is probably wider. (talking to him after I offered to give him some of my fat from my ass and hips, sharing and caring, that's me)Unfortunately I'm one of those awful people that always laughs when someone trips, or falls over. I can't help it, humans are supposed to be upright, and when they aren't it's just hilarious.
What made me giggle even more was that it was him. (On a previous ride he'd hit the deck after forgetting to unclip, right in front of us, and in spectacular style, not at the side of the puddle, but right in it)
Anyway, trying my best to be tactful I went up and showed my concern in my own special style of a yorkshire farmer way- ''I didn't know you got blew off, ya should get sum stew dahn ya, get some meat on ya bones boy!'' then rode off thinking how great it was that something exciting had happened for me to blog about. (I think he knows what I'm like by now, and I did care enough to offer him MY fat anyway)
After a few more sapping of everything miles there was yet ANOTHER shout to stop. What now?! Has someone lost a wheel? Ran out of jaffa cakes or sour snakes? (poetry as well, you get everything here) Been carried off to the land of Oz by the wind?!
No, someone had gone the wrong way, straight on instead of turning. The social sapping of wind is an important factor, not only do you miss out on what your mate did last night, you also can't hear frantic screams of ''LEFT! LEFT! TURN LEFT!! and carry on happily, unaware that in this case, some poor sod gets extra miles added on peddling after you to bring you back.
That gave the rest of us 15 minutes to stand around talking about- the wind.
It's true what foreigners say about the English. We are obsessed with the weather, first time we get to talk without sign language and we discuss that. Even here isn't safe, it's all I've gone on about.
Anyway, for the rest of the ride, aside from a wee stop where 5 people all lined up making a very pretty sight on the horizon and a few car drivers stare, nothing much else happened.
I had a discussion about what I'm going to do about this at the Outlaw. I don't ever really need to wee when I'm out on the bike for these rides, but that's because they aren't that long yet. (4 hours, not that long, now I know I'm slowly decending to madness) Obviously I will have to at some point though, and in the race.
I just will not be getting my backside out. No way. I explained to the others who were sceptic, it's for the good of Nottingham and my fellow competitors, I'm thinking of them!! That's the last thing they'd want to see when they're already suffering.
I've heard of a device called a shewee, which allows a woman to stand up and pee like a bloke.(Sports people and campers use them, I have not made enquiries at the gender reassignment clinic). It's like a cardboard tube thing apparently. Which brings a whole new thing to the table really. I have to decide if I do want to ''man up'' Literally this time, or make suffer the others. Mm. Decisions decisions!!
Doing this event isn't just about the training, it's also about all the little stuff inbetween, including the things, as a woman, you naturally worry about. Should I wear waterproof make up so I look half decent in the finishing picture? Will false nails get in my way? Should my nail varnish match my suit or my bike? What the hell is my hair going to look like after all that time? And my skin? I can't stop to cleanse, tone, and moisturise can I?
And the big wee debate- Shewee or squat?
I've also seriously thought about taking a small bottle of mouthwash with me to use in T2 (transition 2, the bit when you are changing from the bike to the run) because the effect of sports drinks, bars and gels on your teeth isn't great. And neither is the aftertaste. (I want one part of me to feel good and revitalised)
Off to make a cup of tea. I've got a lot to think about ;)
Saturday, 21 January 2012
A Love/Hate Relationship
Running and I have a very strange relationship. Having only really begun running when I started Triathlon (and because I've only done a few sprints never having to go over 5k luckily) I found it very hard. And still do.
I have to start psyching myself hours before. Throughout the day my thoughts are generally- 'Right, run at 6pm, make sure you have a good dinner, carbs and protein, drink lots of water.'
(On chips and beans day I declared to everyone that I was running later, and couldn't possibly eat that, I needed PROPER food. I dutifully took a tuna salad with me for my lunch and sat eating that, trying to feel I'd gained the moral highground whilst desperately wanting to grab the bag off the person next to me and stuff my face)
2pm- '4 Hours to go'
2.30pm- '3 and a half hours to go'
2.45pm- 'I'm a bit tired actually'
3pm- 'ooh, only 3 hours to go now, and my legs are hurting, will I be ok?'
4pm- 'I don't know if I should go really, I've got a twinge. And this twinge could be something really serious, and if I run with it it could put me out of training for months'.
4.15pm- 'ouch'
4.30pm- 'Ooh'
4.45pm- 'Holby City is on tonight'
4.50pm- 'And 'Come Dine With Me' I could learn to cook healthy post-run meals.. I'm so dedicated
4.55pm- 'No! Stop it, I know what you're doing'!
4.58pm- 'What, What do you mean!!?'
5pm- 'I'm going to be an Outlaw, I have to go for this run. I have to. I'll enjoy it'.
5.01pm- 'No you won't'
5.02pm- 'Yes I will! I'll have fun and feel really good'
5.03pm- 'Nope, you'll be knackered, sweaty, your hair will be stuck to your head and you'll wonder what the hell you are doing running somewhere just to run back again, just don't bother'.
At this point my mind tells me EVERY reason not to go for that run. And I mean every reason. Whatever you can think of, I'd have used it. My mind is very devious. It will use anything to con me into thinking I shouldn't go. In my earlier days of training I would skip runs and justify it's because of this or that, but now I'm so scared of the marathon I'm going to be doing on 8th April (to get my head round the distance before July, even though my head would rather not know) that it gets me out the door. Just.
But really it's no wonder that by the time it actually comes round to doing the run I'm knackered, look how much energy I use flapping about it! It can't be right. In situations like this I think you should write a pros and cons list, then it's there in black and white to help you make your decision on what's best for you.
RUNNING-
PROS-
CONS-
It's hard- parts of the body you didn't even know could ache will ache. In my case for days afterwards.
Lungs will protest and shut up shop, making it really hard to breathe.
Legs, hips, back and knees will follow in show of solidary to lungs and seize up.
You spend all your time running in circles.. Run one way just to run back! Why?
Endless cycles of washing of lycra.
Sweaty flat hair
Blisters
Chafing. The pot of Vaseline on my bedside table gives COMPLETELY the wrong impression. If only you knew exactly how sad I am. It's there to prevent road rash. Sorry to shatter your illusions.
Boring (you don't have as many thoughts as you think you do. Or as many songs on your ipod) I end up counting sometimes! What is that about?!
It can bring on unknown episodes of irritibility. Usually when I see someone happily running along, looking really happy and energetic and I just know they have a t.shirt with ''I love running'' on it, and they bomb past me not even sweating in the slightest, and still manage to smile and shout ''Beautiful day isn't it!''! (How can you run and talk at the same time?! I can barely run and breathe at the same time! And don't look so happy about running in circles you strange, strange being. And it isn't normal to be that bouncy anyway. Get your adrenalin levels checked.)
Running has a bizzarre and unhealthy effect on time that we shouldn't encourage. It literally slows it down. You've been going for ages, your legs hurt, your lungs hurt, you feel like you're going to collapse but you keep on going, knowing the pain is nearly over. You look at your watch- 8 poxy minutes. How on earth is that right?! Running has some strange control over it, I'm telling you. Time today, world domination tomorrow.
That's my list. I'm sure I could add more, but I don't want to take up the next five years. Obviously there are pros to running, I just can't think of any, apart from finishing and sitting down. Which doesn't sound very Triathlete-ish does it.
I know the marathon will be a challenge, just like every run I do is a challenge. That, for me, makes it even more worthwhile. When I finish a run, I feel a sense of satisfaction so huge that I could just hug everyone. Luckily for them I don't.
That's what makes it great. Only when you push yourself to do something you aren't wonderful at do you get the real high. Or is that my twisted logic? People have asked me what on earth I think I'm doing when I don't even like running. I reply with 'I like it because I don't like it, and that makes it even better when I do it'
(Step over Einstein, your successor has arrived)
For me it's a love/hate relationship, and like all relationships like that, it is satisfying for all the wrong reasons. It's quite alarming that I appear to have masochistic tendancies. Running hurts = I feel good. Mm.
Anyway I'm going now, I've burnt my bloody pizza writing this! Maybe just as well. I'm a runner you know, I have to have PROPER food ;)
I have to start psyching myself hours before. Throughout the day my thoughts are generally- 'Right, run at 6pm, make sure you have a good dinner, carbs and protein, drink lots of water.'
(On chips and beans day I declared to everyone that I was running later, and couldn't possibly eat that, I needed PROPER food. I dutifully took a tuna salad with me for my lunch and sat eating that, trying to feel I'd gained the moral highground whilst desperately wanting to grab the bag off the person next to me and stuff my face)
2pm- '4 Hours to go'
2.30pm- '3 and a half hours to go'
2.45pm- 'I'm a bit tired actually'
3pm- 'ooh, only 3 hours to go now, and my legs are hurting, will I be ok?'
4pm- 'I don't know if I should go really, I've got a twinge. And this twinge could be something really serious, and if I run with it it could put me out of training for months'.
4.15pm- 'ouch'
4.30pm- 'Ooh'
4.45pm- 'Holby City is on tonight'
4.50pm- 'And 'Come Dine With Me' I could learn to cook healthy post-run meals.. I'm so dedicated
4.55pm- 'No! Stop it, I know what you're doing'!
4.58pm- 'What, What do you mean!!?'
5pm- 'I'm going to be an Outlaw, I have to go for this run. I have to. I'll enjoy it'.
5.01pm- 'No you won't'
5.02pm- 'Yes I will! I'll have fun and feel really good'
5.03pm- 'Nope, you'll be knackered, sweaty, your hair will be stuck to your head and you'll wonder what the hell you are doing running somewhere just to run back again, just don't bother'.
At this point my mind tells me EVERY reason not to go for that run. And I mean every reason. Whatever you can think of, I'd have used it. My mind is very devious. It will use anything to con me into thinking I shouldn't go. In my earlier days of training I would skip runs and justify it's because of this or that, but now I'm so scared of the marathon I'm going to be doing on 8th April (to get my head round the distance before July, even though my head would rather not know) that it gets me out the door. Just.
But really it's no wonder that by the time it actually comes round to doing the run I'm knackered, look how much energy I use flapping about it! It can't be right. In situations like this I think you should write a pros and cons list, then it's there in black and white to help you make your decision on what's best for you.
RUNNING-
PROS-
CONS-
It's hard- parts of the body you didn't even know could ache will ache. In my case for days afterwards.
Lungs will protest and shut up shop, making it really hard to breathe.
Legs, hips, back and knees will follow in show of solidary to lungs and seize up.
You spend all your time running in circles.. Run one way just to run back! Why?
Endless cycles of washing of lycra.
Sweaty flat hair
Blisters
Chafing. The pot of Vaseline on my bedside table gives COMPLETELY the wrong impression. If only you knew exactly how sad I am. It's there to prevent road rash. Sorry to shatter your illusions.
Boring (you don't have as many thoughts as you think you do. Or as many songs on your ipod) I end up counting sometimes! What is that about?!
It can bring on unknown episodes of irritibility. Usually when I see someone happily running along, looking really happy and energetic and I just know they have a t.shirt with ''I love running'' on it, and they bomb past me not even sweating in the slightest, and still manage to smile and shout ''Beautiful day isn't it!''! (How can you run and talk at the same time?! I can barely run and breathe at the same time! And don't look so happy about running in circles you strange, strange being. And it isn't normal to be that bouncy anyway. Get your adrenalin levels checked.)
Running has a bizzarre and unhealthy effect on time that we shouldn't encourage. It literally slows it down. You've been going for ages, your legs hurt, your lungs hurt, you feel like you're going to collapse but you keep on going, knowing the pain is nearly over. You look at your watch- 8 poxy minutes. How on earth is that right?! Running has some strange control over it, I'm telling you. Time today, world domination tomorrow.
That's my list. I'm sure I could add more, but I don't want to take up the next five years. Obviously there are pros to running, I just can't think of any, apart from finishing and sitting down. Which doesn't sound very Triathlete-ish does it.
I know the marathon will be a challenge, just like every run I do is a challenge. That, for me, makes it even more worthwhile. When I finish a run, I feel a sense of satisfaction so huge that I could just hug everyone. Luckily for them I don't.
That's what makes it great. Only when you push yourself to do something you aren't wonderful at do you get the real high. Or is that my twisted logic? People have asked me what on earth I think I'm doing when I don't even like running. I reply with 'I like it because I don't like it, and that makes it even better when I do it'
(Step over Einstein, your successor has arrived)
For me it's a love/hate relationship, and like all relationships like that, it is satisfying for all the wrong reasons. It's quite alarming that I appear to have masochistic tendancies. Running hurts = I feel good. Mm.
Anyway I'm going now, I've burnt my bloody pizza writing this! Maybe just as well. I'm a runner you know, I have to have PROPER food ;)
Wednesday, 18 January 2012
It's a girl thing..
Whilst waiting for Holby City to come on iplayer, (I can't get BBC1 on my tv for some annoying reason) I decided to read through some statistics about women in sport. (Very normal thing to do of an evening isn't it!)
In 2010 I started a sports degree with the Open University. Unfortunately I had to quit very soon after starting, as a family member got ill, but one assignment that I did complete was focussed on female participation/gender divides/resolutions. It also asked for my own personal experiences.
When you go to most sports clubs or races, the majority of members do seem to be male. Particularly in the more ''hardcore'' sports, like Triathlon/Rugby/Martial Arts. Why is this?
For a start, I think society has a lot to do with it. Sport is not seen as a feminine thing to do. Women now have such an expectation to look good, smell good, have perfect hair and make up, that a sweaty red face and a scent of eau de chlorine isn't particularly socially acceptable. I also think women worry so much about what they look like. I for one, have spent many times twisting round at every angle to see if my arse looks big in my tri suit. I also worry about my boobs- ie looking like I haven't got any, I wasn't particularly blessed in that area anyway, but a sports bra squashes what you do have to your chest so tight that you lose two sizes anyway. Then there's my hips... we won't even go there. Maybe I'm just more neurotic than some, but I do really think we worry more than men.
On that note, I am amazed at some of the things men wear. And without a scrap of self conciousness it seems.. tiny speedos.. tight tight TIGHT lycra bodysuit things that leave nothing to the imagination.. sometimes I really don't know where to look! I get all flustered and end up looking where I shouldn't and don't actually want to! (the more you say to yourself don't gawk at something, the more you do, it's human nature, so don't go branding me a perv, I know you've all done the same)
At one training session I was swimming behind a man, minding my own business, when he slowed to turn and as he pushed off from the wall his shorts were slightly too short and slightly too high, and he popped out! Not what I want in my face! I just think, we know you've got one and everything, and obviously you can't take it off and put it in your bag, but really, make sure your stuff fits!! I'm sure he didn't even realise, and swam off with it flapping about. Brings a whole new meaning to ''Free Willy''. It put me right off my bilateral breathing.
Women aren't always much better though. When I used to go to the gym, I was always fascinated by those women who appear in the smallest, tightest, most see through hotpants and crop top with full make up, hair primped and set, and don't actually do anything strenuous because they obviously can't sweat or it would all drip off!! And in the hotpants and crop top they can't bend, stretch, run, or lift, or the outfit would dissappear into whatever orifice it's closest to! What is that all about? I can't bear anything that clings too much when I'm trying to run or whatever. There is definitely a place for lycra, actually I'm quite fond of it, especially when it's all colour co-ordinated, but anything that crawls its way up my body is a no no. Comfort comes first. And another thing- those who come out of the shower and sit on the benches with no knickers on?!! Arrrrgh!! I could write a whole page about the wrong-ness of that!!
Anyway, I digress, back to what I was saying before. Then there is helmet hair. I am ashamed to say that on occasion (actually more than 'on occasion') I have driven to where I need to be rather than cycled, because I just cannot bear the thought of spending the whole day looking a mess. I don't understand it when I see people riding bikes in a suit, or a dress, or whatever they're going to be wearing that day. Cycling makes you hot. Cycling in lycra cools the body and makes you comfortable, and able to move freely. Cycling in normal, restrictive, tight clothing does not. You must sweat, and then that sweat dries, and stays on you and your clothes. Think about it. I'm telling you for your own good.
I think women also worry about their body shape changing and being perceived as ''manly''. The amount of times I've heard women say they won't do weights because they 'dontwant to look like a bloke' Physiologically impossible, unless you're slipping steroids into your shreddies!!
When I was 19, I used to cycle to work everyday. There were quite a few hills en route, and I do have a body type that puts on muscle quite easily when I exercise. My thighs were solid. And some kind soul said I looked like someone had attached Arnies legs to me. It didn't stop me cycling, but it made me think about my own perception of the female figure. I'm 5'9, broad shouldered, big hands and feet, and as I said, quite a muscular build. My brother thinks it's hilarious and calls me Xena.Or Amazonian Woman, whichever takes his fancy. But I admire strong women. Do we all have to be wallflowers waiting to be rescued in our hotpants because we shouldn't sweat? I don't think so.
Yes sometimes I do wish I were petite and tiny and cute, but I'm not, so I've learnt to love what I have. And when someone asks me to get them a tin of beans from the top shelf in the supermarket because they can't reach, (happens much more than you'd think!) I feel proud to be in the Tall Club!!
When I was at school we weren't allowed to play football, cricket, or rugby. Our choices were hockey or netball, wearing a hideous gym skirt that flashed your knickers. Who would bother, really? No wonder so many of us had ''period pain'' on a Friday afternoon.
As I grew up, I left physical activity behind, apart from cycling to work. Until I wanted to join the army, and had to train properly. When I first went in a gym, I hated it. I wouldn't go on any weights machines when men were around, because of the looks I'd get. Many gyms now accomodate this, and have a seperate womens area. Is this the answer? I'm not sure. But if it encourages women to use facilities it can only be a positive.
I don't tend to read fitness magazines that are aimed at women, because they are generally full of tips to ''shape up quick'', ''get a flat tum'', and ''lose a stone without the hard work''. They're full of crap basically. But then it also bugs me when I buy a general sports magazine and it's full of adverts and tests for male clothing, nothing for women, all the articles are from men, the letters are from men. The tri training books that keep me company in bed are all by men. At the risk of sounding like a raving feminist, which I'm not, it does need to change, and I think it is, slowly.
Sport increases self confidence, connection to others, team spirit, health, viltality, the list goes on. I'm personally so glad that I joined my Tri Club, even though I was absolutely terrified at first. Having never belonged to a club before, never run, swam or cycled more than just for fun, what on earth posessed me to pick Triathlon I don't know. (I don't do things by halves obviously) But it's the best thing I ever did.
Women need to be made to feel that sport is for all, not just those who shone at school. Everyone. Gyms shouldn't be intimidating. Women shouldn't be afraid to get involved, to run, walk, kick a ball, swim. Whatever their ages, women should feel comfortable to find something they enjoy doing, without fear or not feeling good or feminine enough. I hope we can continue to promote strong female sporting role models, Jessica Ennis, Chrissie Wellington, Victoria Pendleton, and of course the wonderful Dame Kelly, (Did I mention that I've met her?) and encourage the new generation that sport is the way forward. Let's do it for the girls!! Whoop whoop! :)
In 2010 I started a sports degree with the Open University. Unfortunately I had to quit very soon after starting, as a family member got ill, but one assignment that I did complete was focussed on female participation/gender divides/resolutions. It also asked for my own personal experiences.
When you go to most sports clubs or races, the majority of members do seem to be male. Particularly in the more ''hardcore'' sports, like Triathlon/Rugby/Martial Arts. Why is this?
For a start, I think society has a lot to do with it. Sport is not seen as a feminine thing to do. Women now have such an expectation to look good, smell good, have perfect hair and make up, that a sweaty red face and a scent of eau de chlorine isn't particularly socially acceptable. I also think women worry so much about what they look like. I for one, have spent many times twisting round at every angle to see if my arse looks big in my tri suit. I also worry about my boobs- ie looking like I haven't got any, I wasn't particularly blessed in that area anyway, but a sports bra squashes what you do have to your chest so tight that you lose two sizes anyway. Then there's my hips... we won't even go there. Maybe I'm just more neurotic than some, but I do really think we worry more than men.
On that note, I am amazed at some of the things men wear. And without a scrap of self conciousness it seems.. tiny speedos.. tight tight TIGHT lycra bodysuit things that leave nothing to the imagination.. sometimes I really don't know where to look! I get all flustered and end up looking where I shouldn't and don't actually want to! (the more you say to yourself don't gawk at something, the more you do, it's human nature, so don't go branding me a perv, I know you've all done the same)
At one training session I was swimming behind a man, minding my own business, when he slowed to turn and as he pushed off from the wall his shorts were slightly too short and slightly too high, and he popped out! Not what I want in my face! I just think, we know you've got one and everything, and obviously you can't take it off and put it in your bag, but really, make sure your stuff fits!! I'm sure he didn't even realise, and swam off with it flapping about. Brings a whole new meaning to ''Free Willy''. It put me right off my bilateral breathing.
Women aren't always much better though. When I used to go to the gym, I was always fascinated by those women who appear in the smallest, tightest, most see through hotpants and crop top with full make up, hair primped and set, and don't actually do anything strenuous because they obviously can't sweat or it would all drip off!! And in the hotpants and crop top they can't bend, stretch, run, or lift, or the outfit would dissappear into whatever orifice it's closest to! What is that all about? I can't bear anything that clings too much when I'm trying to run or whatever. There is definitely a place for lycra, actually I'm quite fond of it, especially when it's all colour co-ordinated, but anything that crawls its way up my body is a no no. Comfort comes first. And another thing- those who come out of the shower and sit on the benches with no knickers on?!! Arrrrgh!! I could write a whole page about the wrong-ness of that!!
Anyway, I digress, back to what I was saying before. Then there is helmet hair. I am ashamed to say that on occasion (actually more than 'on occasion') I have driven to where I need to be rather than cycled, because I just cannot bear the thought of spending the whole day looking a mess. I don't understand it when I see people riding bikes in a suit, or a dress, or whatever they're going to be wearing that day. Cycling makes you hot. Cycling in lycra cools the body and makes you comfortable, and able to move freely. Cycling in normal, restrictive, tight clothing does not. You must sweat, and then that sweat dries, and stays on you and your clothes. Think about it. I'm telling you for your own good.
I think women also worry about their body shape changing and being perceived as ''manly''. The amount of times I've heard women say they won't do weights because they 'dontwant to look like a bloke' Physiologically impossible, unless you're slipping steroids into your shreddies!!
When I was 19, I used to cycle to work everyday. There were quite a few hills en route, and I do have a body type that puts on muscle quite easily when I exercise. My thighs were solid. And some kind soul said I looked like someone had attached Arnies legs to me. It didn't stop me cycling, but it made me think about my own perception of the female figure. I'm 5'9, broad shouldered, big hands and feet, and as I said, quite a muscular build. My brother thinks it's hilarious and calls me Xena.Or Amazonian Woman, whichever takes his fancy. But I admire strong women. Do we all have to be wallflowers waiting to be rescued in our hotpants because we shouldn't sweat? I don't think so.
Yes sometimes I do wish I were petite and tiny and cute, but I'm not, so I've learnt to love what I have. And when someone asks me to get them a tin of beans from the top shelf in the supermarket because they can't reach, (happens much more than you'd think!) I feel proud to be in the Tall Club!!
When I was at school we weren't allowed to play football, cricket, or rugby. Our choices were hockey or netball, wearing a hideous gym skirt that flashed your knickers. Who would bother, really? No wonder so many of us had ''period pain'' on a Friday afternoon.
As I grew up, I left physical activity behind, apart from cycling to work. Until I wanted to join the army, and had to train properly. When I first went in a gym, I hated it. I wouldn't go on any weights machines when men were around, because of the looks I'd get. Many gyms now accomodate this, and have a seperate womens area. Is this the answer? I'm not sure. But if it encourages women to use facilities it can only be a positive.
I don't tend to read fitness magazines that are aimed at women, because they are generally full of tips to ''shape up quick'', ''get a flat tum'', and ''lose a stone without the hard work''. They're full of crap basically. But then it also bugs me when I buy a general sports magazine and it's full of adverts and tests for male clothing, nothing for women, all the articles are from men, the letters are from men. The tri training books that keep me company in bed are all by men. At the risk of sounding like a raving feminist, which I'm not, it does need to change, and I think it is, slowly.
Sport increases self confidence, connection to others, team spirit, health, viltality, the list goes on. I'm personally so glad that I joined my Tri Club, even though I was absolutely terrified at first. Having never belonged to a club before, never run, swam or cycled more than just for fun, what on earth posessed me to pick Triathlon I don't know. (I don't do things by halves obviously) But it's the best thing I ever did.
Women need to be made to feel that sport is for all, not just those who shone at school. Everyone. Gyms shouldn't be intimidating. Women shouldn't be afraid to get involved, to run, walk, kick a ball, swim. Whatever their ages, women should feel comfortable to find something they enjoy doing, without fear or not feeling good or feminine enough. I hope we can continue to promote strong female sporting role models, Jessica Ennis, Chrissie Wellington, Victoria Pendleton, and of course the wonderful Dame Kelly, (Did I mention that I've met her?) and encourage the new generation that sport is the way forward. Let's do it for the girls!! Whoop whoop! :)
Friday, 13 January 2012
Inspirations.
Training aside for a moment, it was a tough day in my personal life today. As I mentioned before, big changes happening, and I left a lot of people behind today who I've been really close to and going to miss dearly. I was given loads of presents, it was really sweet and overwhelming to know people cared about me so much. Now for some reason, maybe my haircut, my tattoos, or my ''edgy'' style, I'm generally seen as being a very strong charecter, outspoken and confident, (even though I'm actually REALLY shy!!) so when I said I was planning to do the Outlaw, I think everyone kind of expected it, as I have ''that'' kind of personality anyway. ''That'' apparently being that I don't give up on anything, I believe in having and achieving goals, and just generally being a hardcore, strong willed, determined hardass. And obviously I am a bit mental. :)
Anyway, surprisingly the theme of my leaving seemed to be ''Ironwoman''! Several people had written it in the card, wishing me luck, etc, and amongst other things, (all geared around buddhism, yin yang, and tranquility, see, not so edgy after all) I got a wonderful framed picture from someone of Ironman (the film charecter, but a female one)
He had written on it ''What have you done today to make you feel proud?'' (This is one of my my favourite songs, and leads to another thing I'm always going on about, positive affirmations, writing down one thing you've done to make you proud that day, because it helps build self belief and confidence. It doesn't have to be huge, it could be anything from washing the car to getting up at 6am for a run. (And I wouldn't just be proud of that, I'd want a bloody medal!!)
I also do a list of positive things that have happened that day, however small. Maybe I've worked within psychotherapy too long and have become a hippy, but I believe it works. It makes you appreciate the small things, be grateful for what you have, and lifts your mood. (As does listening to the fabulous song 'Proud' and singing as loud as you can to it. They actually played it at the Notts sports awards, and you don't know how difficult it was for me not to stand up, cocktail dress and all, and shake my stuff!)
Anyway, He also gave me an Ironman charecter badge that flashes and makes noises. On the box it says ''become Ironman''. I said I'd stick it to my wetsuit. (Extra help always welcome)
I also recieved Kelly Holmes running socks, (from her clothing line, not her actual socks) and a Kelly Holmes swim towel. Then obviously I had to recall to everyone about the time that I met her. (Again)
Kelly Holmes is one of my heroines. She never gave up, was determined and focussed, and achieved her ultimate goal against all the odds. Did I mention I've met her?
Now obviously I'm never going to the olympics, and goals should be realistic, but I believe what really matters is your own passion and dedication to achieving what you want. The only person responsible for you achieving is you.
But obviously everyone doubts themselves sometimes. I have my fair share of moments. Can I REALLY do this? I couldn't swim front crawl a year ago. Can I swim 2.4 miles? I only rode a bike as a kid, can I cycle 112 miles? And the mother of ALL my fears, I have never ran before, despised running my whole life, and today we still definitely have a love/hate relationship, can I really take on the marathon? And all together, all in one day? Do I have the focus, dedication, and mental and physical strength to push and keep pushing when everything is telling me to stop? I believe I do. And come race day, I will not give in, and I will do everything in my power to achieve my goal. But that begins now. It isn't just about that one day.
At a swim session last night, doing 100m x 3 as hard as I could, my arms went dead, my chest felt tight and began to burn, and my mind screamed ''enough!''. But I gritted my teeth and I did it. And I felt bloody brilliant. I didn't care that I was only 9 seconds faster than when I was going steady. I gave it my all, and that was all I could do.
Tonight at the track session, doing a run at hard effort, my legs began to ache. My heart felt like it would explode out of my chest, and I began to feel nausea swirling round my stomach. Again my mind screamed ''enough!'' But I gritted my teeth and I did it. And at that moment I didn't care that I was one of the slowest runners there. I gave it my all, and that was all I could do.
The thought of 26.2 miles terrifies me. So much so that I can't think of it like that, I have to think a mile at a time. As I do with any run. Unfortunately it doesn't come naturally to me.. I don't have a runners build, (is this another one of those excuses or a genuine scientific reason for being crap? mm..) I don't like being sweaty, and it HURTS. Inside and outside. When I see a run on my plan I think of every possible excuse not to go out and do it. But I'm realising that the only person losing out from that is me. I have to run if I want to get better at it. I have to sweat, I have to hurt, and I have to be slower than everyone else. And from somewhere, I've got hold of a steely determination. I WILL be a runner, and I WILL enjoy it.
And tonight, my effort was rewarded not only by my own personal satisfaction, but by someone else. My coach said as I huffed past, ''Well done Cayci, much better this week, well done!'' Praise indeed. (Trust me, it doesn't happen often when I'm running) That made me work even harder.
Having support and belief from others really helps. That's why my Kelly Holmes socks will be accompanying me on the marathon, my picture is displayed proudly in my living room, and my badge is on my bookshelf next to ''Be Iron Fit'', and all my other exciting triathlon bedtime reading.. And it's the reason I made it to the track tonight in the first place. I've had a long and hard week, and I was contemplating skipping the session and sticking a dvd on, but for all the people who believe in me, for everyone who has asked how the training is going or said good luck, when I can't find the inclination or energy and the sofa is giving me 'come-sit-on-me' eyes, I'll do it for you.
And to Tubs, Kajsa, Nic, Sophie, Paul, Kyria, Bex, and Debbie, Love you and miss you all. I won't let you down. xx
Anyway, surprisingly the theme of my leaving seemed to be ''Ironwoman''! Several people had written it in the card, wishing me luck, etc, and amongst other things, (all geared around buddhism, yin yang, and tranquility, see, not so edgy after all) I got a wonderful framed picture from someone of Ironman (the film charecter, but a female one)
He had written on it ''What have you done today to make you feel proud?'' (This is one of my my favourite songs, and leads to another thing I'm always going on about, positive affirmations, writing down one thing you've done to make you proud that day, because it helps build self belief and confidence. It doesn't have to be huge, it could be anything from washing the car to getting up at 6am for a run. (And I wouldn't just be proud of that, I'd want a bloody medal!!)
I also do a list of positive things that have happened that day, however small. Maybe I've worked within psychotherapy too long and have become a hippy, but I believe it works. It makes you appreciate the small things, be grateful for what you have, and lifts your mood. (As does listening to the fabulous song 'Proud' and singing as loud as you can to it. They actually played it at the Notts sports awards, and you don't know how difficult it was for me not to stand up, cocktail dress and all, and shake my stuff!)
Anyway, He also gave me an Ironman charecter badge that flashes and makes noises. On the box it says ''become Ironman''. I said I'd stick it to my wetsuit. (Extra help always welcome)
I also recieved Kelly Holmes running socks, (from her clothing line, not her actual socks) and a Kelly Holmes swim towel. Then obviously I had to recall to everyone about the time that I met her. (Again)
Kelly Holmes is one of my heroines. She never gave up, was determined and focussed, and achieved her ultimate goal against all the odds. Did I mention I've met her?
Now obviously I'm never going to the olympics, and goals should be realistic, but I believe what really matters is your own passion and dedication to achieving what you want. The only person responsible for you achieving is you.
But obviously everyone doubts themselves sometimes. I have my fair share of moments. Can I REALLY do this? I couldn't swim front crawl a year ago. Can I swim 2.4 miles? I only rode a bike as a kid, can I cycle 112 miles? And the mother of ALL my fears, I have never ran before, despised running my whole life, and today we still definitely have a love/hate relationship, can I really take on the marathon? And all together, all in one day? Do I have the focus, dedication, and mental and physical strength to push and keep pushing when everything is telling me to stop? I believe I do. And come race day, I will not give in, and I will do everything in my power to achieve my goal. But that begins now. It isn't just about that one day.
At a swim session last night, doing 100m x 3 as hard as I could, my arms went dead, my chest felt tight and began to burn, and my mind screamed ''enough!''. But I gritted my teeth and I did it. And I felt bloody brilliant. I didn't care that I was only 9 seconds faster than when I was going steady. I gave it my all, and that was all I could do.
Tonight at the track session, doing a run at hard effort, my legs began to ache. My heart felt like it would explode out of my chest, and I began to feel nausea swirling round my stomach. Again my mind screamed ''enough!'' But I gritted my teeth and I did it. And at that moment I didn't care that I was one of the slowest runners there. I gave it my all, and that was all I could do.
The thought of 26.2 miles terrifies me. So much so that I can't think of it like that, I have to think a mile at a time. As I do with any run. Unfortunately it doesn't come naturally to me.. I don't have a runners build, (is this another one of those excuses or a genuine scientific reason for being crap? mm..) I don't like being sweaty, and it HURTS. Inside and outside. When I see a run on my plan I think of every possible excuse not to go out and do it. But I'm realising that the only person losing out from that is me. I have to run if I want to get better at it. I have to sweat, I have to hurt, and I have to be slower than everyone else. And from somewhere, I've got hold of a steely determination. I WILL be a runner, and I WILL enjoy it.
And tonight, my effort was rewarded not only by my own personal satisfaction, but by someone else. My coach said as I huffed past, ''Well done Cayci, much better this week, well done!'' Praise indeed. (Trust me, it doesn't happen often when I'm running) That made me work even harder.
Having support and belief from others really helps. That's why my Kelly Holmes socks will be accompanying me on the marathon, my picture is displayed proudly in my living room, and my badge is on my bookshelf next to ''Be Iron Fit'', and all my other exciting triathlon bedtime reading.. And it's the reason I made it to the track tonight in the first place. I've had a long and hard week, and I was contemplating skipping the session and sticking a dvd on, but for all the people who believe in me, for everyone who has asked how the training is going or said good luck, when I can't find the inclination or energy and the sofa is giving me 'come-sit-on-me' eyes, I'll do it for you.
And to Tubs, Kajsa, Nic, Sophie, Paul, Kyria, Bex, and Debbie, Love you and miss you all. I won't let you down. xx
Sunday, 8 January 2012
Arguements, The P Word, And A VERY Big Hill
Been for my long ride today, got in about an hour ago. (Missed the Eastenders omnibus, the sacrifices I have to make, honestly!!) Some of our regular cycle group were missing as they've deserted us for Lanzarote, so we went from a different area, and did the Outlaw route. (Not all of it, the 50 mile loop) I have to say it wasn't the worst route I've cycled, but it also wasn't the most inspiring. You see, I have a rather short attention span, so after about 5 minutes I begin to look round for something pretty to look at. Or just something other than road.
My coach despairs of me I think. On a ''proper'' training ride a while back (which I did my best to get out of) I think he became tired of repeating the phrase ''Come on Cayci'' (said with a huge sigh and extended syllables- ''cooome onnnnn Cayyyyciii'') and decided to give me a tip. ''Cayci, you know your problem? You're too easily distracted. I'm cycling behind you and all I can see is your head twisting everywhere looking around all the time!'' At which I replied that I was enjoying the scenery. Exasperated, he said ''You aren't on a shopper bike with a basket on the front flowing down a country lane, you have to focus!!'' I informed him that I simply do not have enough testosterone in my body to be bent over on the drops puffing and sweating and grunting, shouting ''COOOME ON, HARDER, HARDER!''. Nooo thank you. I may break a nail with all that effort.
Seriously though, I do have some grit and determination in me. About 15 miles into the ride today, we approached Oxton Hill. I had heard of this hill (It's got a reputation) but never seen it. As the incline began, I sat back on my seat and began spinning my legs, looking just in front. I thought that was it. But no. Oxton deserved it's reputation. It went on, and on, and on. Steeper. My gears ran out, and I literally couldn't breathe. Which is when the arguement started. It isn't my body that is the problem, that would quite happily go wherever, it's my mind. My mind is naturally lazy, and it always tries to corrupt my legs into thinking they aren't strong enough, my lungs into thinking they can't expand, and my backside into thinking it shouldn't sit on a bike saddle full stop. Ever.
''Just get off and push the bike'' it whispers. ''No!'', I say, ''I'm going up this hill and I'm going up it sitting down!'' It begins telling me exactly what I could be doing at that moment (Eastenders omnibus) rather than sweating up a hill with a tight chest, weak legs and a numb backside. I argue that my breathing is fine, my legs are strong, and.. I can't find an answer for the last bit, because it's true. But I win! I power up the hill, teeth gritted, heart pounding, and reach the top triumphant and feeling pumped with testosterone. There may have even been a war cry attemping to escape.
As I descended down the other side I tried not to think that in 4 months time I will be riding up a mountain in Majorca for almost 7 miles. (Ironman Majorca 70.3).
Maybe my coach has a point. Time to focus.
After yet another stop for the males in the group to go to the toilet (4 times altogether!) we settled into a nice pace, and I began to think about eating something, as we'd been going for an hour and a half. I began to open my bar when we approached another hill, so had to wait, obviously I can't puff, sweat, pant, grit and everything else as well as eat. Luckily I didn't have to have an arguement again, as the hill wasn't that big.
Approaching the top, I heard a shout from the back that had the P word in it. The P word is that thing that shalt not be named, because if it isn't named it won't happen. Puncture.
At least this gave me a chance to eat my bar and stretch my legs. That was about as much use as I could be, because I've never actually changed one. I have had one, but luckily at the time I was cycling near a canal, and a very kind man sat on his boat with a can of lager in one hand and a fishing rod in the other came to my rescue and did it for me. It soon became clear that I wasn't the only one who didn't have a clue, because all the others in the group just stood there as well! Luckily the person whose tyre it was did have a clue, and changed it, and I must point out that she was female. (You go sister, do it for the girls, women everywhere will thank you) I must rectify this situation and begin P Practice. If it happened to me I'd be hitching a lift home.
The rest of the ride passed uneventfully, and we got back and went straight out for a quick run off the bike. I've done a lot of gritting of teeth today, my jaw is beginning to ache.
The best part of any ride (apart from speeding down a hill at 30mph screaming in joy and terror) has got to be the satisfaction when you finish. You just feel so healthy and fit and alive. Also the cake. Crucial part of any session, post-ride cake. Today we had a choice of 3, treacle, lemon, and fruit. Nice. All in all, a great day. Even if I did miss Eastenders. ;)
My coach despairs of me I think. On a ''proper'' training ride a while back (which I did my best to get out of) I think he became tired of repeating the phrase ''Come on Cayci'' (said with a huge sigh and extended syllables- ''cooome onnnnn Cayyyyciii'') and decided to give me a tip. ''Cayci, you know your problem? You're too easily distracted. I'm cycling behind you and all I can see is your head twisting everywhere looking around all the time!'' At which I replied that I was enjoying the scenery. Exasperated, he said ''You aren't on a shopper bike with a basket on the front flowing down a country lane, you have to focus!!'' I informed him that I simply do not have enough testosterone in my body to be bent over on the drops puffing and sweating and grunting, shouting ''COOOME ON, HARDER, HARDER!''. Nooo thank you. I may break a nail with all that effort.
Seriously though, I do have some grit and determination in me. About 15 miles into the ride today, we approached Oxton Hill. I had heard of this hill (It's got a reputation) but never seen it. As the incline began, I sat back on my seat and began spinning my legs, looking just in front. I thought that was it. But no. Oxton deserved it's reputation. It went on, and on, and on. Steeper. My gears ran out, and I literally couldn't breathe. Which is when the arguement started. It isn't my body that is the problem, that would quite happily go wherever, it's my mind. My mind is naturally lazy, and it always tries to corrupt my legs into thinking they aren't strong enough, my lungs into thinking they can't expand, and my backside into thinking it shouldn't sit on a bike saddle full stop. Ever.
''Just get off and push the bike'' it whispers. ''No!'', I say, ''I'm going up this hill and I'm going up it sitting down!'' It begins telling me exactly what I could be doing at that moment (Eastenders omnibus) rather than sweating up a hill with a tight chest, weak legs and a numb backside. I argue that my breathing is fine, my legs are strong, and.. I can't find an answer for the last bit, because it's true. But I win! I power up the hill, teeth gritted, heart pounding, and reach the top triumphant and feeling pumped with testosterone. There may have even been a war cry attemping to escape.
As I descended down the other side I tried not to think that in 4 months time I will be riding up a mountain in Majorca for almost 7 miles. (Ironman Majorca 70.3).
Maybe my coach has a point. Time to focus.
After yet another stop for the males in the group to go to the toilet (4 times altogether!) we settled into a nice pace, and I began to think about eating something, as we'd been going for an hour and a half. I began to open my bar when we approached another hill, so had to wait, obviously I can't puff, sweat, pant, grit and everything else as well as eat. Luckily I didn't have to have an arguement again, as the hill wasn't that big.
Approaching the top, I heard a shout from the back that had the P word in it. The P word is that thing that shalt not be named, because if it isn't named it won't happen. Puncture.
At least this gave me a chance to eat my bar and stretch my legs. That was about as much use as I could be, because I've never actually changed one. I have had one, but luckily at the time I was cycling near a canal, and a very kind man sat on his boat with a can of lager in one hand and a fishing rod in the other came to my rescue and did it for me. It soon became clear that I wasn't the only one who didn't have a clue, because all the others in the group just stood there as well! Luckily the person whose tyre it was did have a clue, and changed it, and I must point out that she was female. (You go sister, do it for the girls, women everywhere will thank you) I must rectify this situation and begin P Practice. If it happened to me I'd be hitching a lift home.
The rest of the ride passed uneventfully, and we got back and went straight out for a quick run off the bike. I've done a lot of gritting of teeth today, my jaw is beginning to ache.
The best part of any ride (apart from speeding down a hill at 30mph screaming in joy and terror) has got to be the satisfaction when you finish. You just feel so healthy and fit and alive. Also the cake. Crucial part of any session, post-ride cake. Today we had a choice of 3, treacle, lemon, and fruit. Nice. All in all, a great day. Even if I did miss Eastenders. ;)
Thursday, 5 January 2012
How It All Began..
I intended this blog to be lighthearted, funny, and not serious at all. Generally how I approach my life. Find the humour in everything, and it will be ok. But the journey isn't always going to be rosy, so here's the first bit of alternative writing..
I've been a bit down today. At the moment a lot is changing for me, and whilst change is positive, and new doors are opening, it is also challenging.
I didn't want to train today. I didn't want to go anywhere, or talk to anyone. Except my Nan. But unfortunately that isn't possible, because I lost her to cancer last year. It was undoubtedly the worst thing ever to happen to me, the death of my parent. I miss her so much it's like a physical pain sometimes. I remember I stopped training after she died, I stopped everything. I doubted if I'd even go back to Triathlon at all. Nothing seemed to have much point to it. It all seemed so insignificant.
A few weeks later I dragged myself to swimming, just to get out of the house. Then I was given the devastating news that a friend at the club had passed away that week, after being out for a run. I can't really describe how that felt. For the 2nd time in 6 weeks, I attended the funeral of someone I cared for.
But from this awful situation came the most wonderful support from certain members of my Tri Club. They insisted I begin exercise again, made sure I was eating properly, and ignored my obvious lack of care for anything, Knowing that eventually I would begin to heal.
It was after coming back from my first ride for months and sitting around a wonderful feast, laughing with everyone, that the Outlaw seed was planted. I was listening to someone who had completed the race before, under quite exceptional circumstances, and was completely inspired. I confided for the first time to someone that I ''would love to be able to do that''. And she answered me with, ''Well why don't you then?'' I began to think of the usual excuses, ''I'm not ready, fit enough, strong enough, young enough, old enough etc'' but as those words were coming out of my mouth a voice was saying, there is no excuse, and NOTHING is stopping you but you. It was a complete epiphany.
When I got home I went online and entered there and then. Fear of failure had stopped me even telling people my dream. I'd read every book I could find on Ironman, even before I completed my first sprint. The seed has always been there, but I was so afraid of failing I wouldn't even try.
Losing my wonderful parent and my friend has changed me. Part of me has gone forever. Part of me has an emptiness that will never be filled. But I have gained something else. A strength. A belief in myself, and an understanding of what is important. Triathlon has become so much more than just how fast my times are, how far I can run or my latest PB, it has become my focus, my outlet for energy and emotion, and the way in which I honour my own life, because I'm fortunate enough to be able to go out there and do it. Every time I get in the water, put my trainers on, or wheel the bike to the door, I think of my Nan, I think of my friend, and I think that you truly must grab the moment with both hands. Go and find what makes you come alive. So Outlaw 2012 here I come! :)
I've been a bit down today. At the moment a lot is changing for me, and whilst change is positive, and new doors are opening, it is also challenging.
I didn't want to train today. I didn't want to go anywhere, or talk to anyone. Except my Nan. But unfortunately that isn't possible, because I lost her to cancer last year. It was undoubtedly the worst thing ever to happen to me, the death of my parent. I miss her so much it's like a physical pain sometimes. I remember I stopped training after she died, I stopped everything. I doubted if I'd even go back to Triathlon at all. Nothing seemed to have much point to it. It all seemed so insignificant.
A few weeks later I dragged myself to swimming, just to get out of the house. Then I was given the devastating news that a friend at the club had passed away that week, after being out for a run. I can't really describe how that felt. For the 2nd time in 6 weeks, I attended the funeral of someone I cared for.
But from this awful situation came the most wonderful support from certain members of my Tri Club. They insisted I begin exercise again, made sure I was eating properly, and ignored my obvious lack of care for anything, Knowing that eventually I would begin to heal.
It was after coming back from my first ride for months and sitting around a wonderful feast, laughing with everyone, that the Outlaw seed was planted. I was listening to someone who had completed the race before, under quite exceptional circumstances, and was completely inspired. I confided for the first time to someone that I ''would love to be able to do that''. And she answered me with, ''Well why don't you then?'' I began to think of the usual excuses, ''I'm not ready, fit enough, strong enough, young enough, old enough etc'' but as those words were coming out of my mouth a voice was saying, there is no excuse, and NOTHING is stopping you but you. It was a complete epiphany.
When I got home I went online and entered there and then. Fear of failure had stopped me even telling people my dream. I'd read every book I could find on Ironman, even before I completed my first sprint. The seed has always been there, but I was so afraid of failing I wouldn't even try.
Losing my wonderful parent and my friend has changed me. Part of me has gone forever. Part of me has an emptiness that will never be filled. But I have gained something else. A strength. A belief in myself, and an understanding of what is important. Triathlon has become so much more than just how fast my times are, how far I can run or my latest PB, it has become my focus, my outlet for energy and emotion, and the way in which I honour my own life, because I'm fortunate enough to be able to go out there and do it. Every time I get in the water, put my trainers on, or wheel the bike to the door, I think of my Nan, I think of my friend, and I think that you truly must grab the moment with both hands. Go and find what makes you come alive. So Outlaw 2012 here I come! :)
Sunday, 1 January 2012
It's only six months away!!
I'm beginning to realise what I have let myself in for. Back in August when I entered the race, it was all a distant dream.. ''oh, I'm doing the Outlaw next year,'' ''I've entered the Outlaw''. Now I'm realising what ''doing the Outlaw'' actually does mean. Lots of training. Lots of eating (don't mind that bit) not staying up past ten, or i'll be too knackered to be up at 6 for my run. Not using energy on things that don't matter, otherwise I won't have any for what does matter, ie-running, cycling, and swimming. It's a big thing. I keep thinking 'ooh.Actually, this is going to be hard'. Shame I didn't realise that when I got the Visa out!
However, on a high note, I did my longest ride to date yesterday. 50 miles. It went great, some parts were difficult, due to the strong winds and my recent bout of flu, but I felt good for most of it, remembered to eat and drink, kept wiggling my numb toes etc. I even felt good enough to do a short run straight off the bike. And as I came back, flopped down in a chair and felt all proud of myself, that's when something began to concern me. Pain, but not where I'd expect it. My backside absolutely kills. And today, I can't sit straight, I'm doing this strange kind of lean to one side half over the chair thing. I didn't even know that bones in your bum could hurt! What is that all about, really. Now 50 miles is less than half of what I have to do in July.. so I have to figure out a solution to this problem. Vaseline? A new saddle? Attaching a cushion to the one I have already? Lots and lots of foam? How do endurance riders go on? The man who cycled the world, what did he do? The mind boggles...
However, on a high note, I did my longest ride to date yesterday. 50 miles. It went great, some parts were difficult, due to the strong winds and my recent bout of flu, but I felt good for most of it, remembered to eat and drink, kept wiggling my numb toes etc. I even felt good enough to do a short run straight off the bike. And as I came back, flopped down in a chair and felt all proud of myself, that's when something began to concern me. Pain, but not where I'd expect it. My backside absolutely kills. And today, I can't sit straight, I'm doing this strange kind of lean to one side half over the chair thing. I didn't even know that bones in your bum could hurt! What is that all about, really. Now 50 miles is less than half of what I have to do in July.. so I have to figure out a solution to this problem. Vaseline? A new saddle? Attaching a cushion to the one I have already? Lots and lots of foam? How do endurance riders go on? The man who cycled the world, what did he do? The mind boggles...
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