Mc'd again!

Today was the first Galileo race of the year at work - and with my form improving at the moment I knew I'd be in for a win.

When I saw Ian McDougal I knew my win would be quite a bit difficult. If you remember, it was Ian who broke my winning streak by giving me a drubbing in the last GATA, so I had a bone to pick.

It was a perfect day for running, cool and not raining. Sure, the 29mph wind was a little arduous, but that aside it was spot on. From the start the course climbs gently up a long hill. Up the hill I found a nice pace that was quick but would let me warm through properly. I surprised myself (and, I later discovered, Ian) when I found I was easily shadowing him up the hill, hardly straining my breathing.

About 3/4the way up the hill Ian was now warmed through and also getting annoyed with the upstart on his tail, so he upped the pace. It was cruel but effective; I just didn't have anything to answer his acceleration with. But that was fine, mindful of Cirencester on Sunday I was running my own race at a pace as fast as I could muster without compromising the weekend.

Soon we turned into the wind, and I found myself enjoying the strange torture of running into the wind. I made a point of not looking back but did have a niggling feeling that if I lost concentration I might get caught and lose 2nd. And keeping concentration was difficult; after my hard London riding yesterday my legs felt like lead and my joints like treacle.

As I drew into the finish I gradually ratcheted up the pace - not quite to "grunting like a hunted boar" levels, but definitely in the zone of “gulping air like a maniac”. It felt great!

Ssoon after I came in a young graduate came in – apparently he was trying to catch me but got lost in the last few hundred metres through the houses. I look forward to the rematch.

But my concerns right now are far simpler - I'm as hungry as a horse and dinner awaits.

Goodnight!

:-)

On the bike

It's been a while since I've had a chance to get some good saddle time; what with all the running and being otherwise lazy. So today I had to head off to the DVLA in Wimbledon to apply to swap my SA drivers license for a UK one.

I opted to ride from Paddington to Wimbledon rather than use public transport because a) I love riding, especially in mad London and b) it would probably be quicker anyway.

Getting out of the inner city was just mad as usual, rows of stationary cars and the odd blind, wafting pedestrian. Approaching Putney it cleared out a lot and I was able to get into a nice rhythm - good given that the hill out of Putney is quite significant. With only one wrong turn (am I glad I popped back home on the way to fetch my A-to-Z!) to soon found myself flying down into Wimbledon.

The ride back was fun too, but the lack of miles in my legs was telling. The drag out of Wimbledon was easy, but I found it a bit of a struggle keeping pace into town; so much so that I managed to get a bit lost - once again, thank goodness for the A-to-Z!

All in all it was fun to be back in the saddle again other than just the monotonous commute. I'm quick but need some work - which is just fine. I'm still glad for the break from cycling I've had with some running, but as the days get longer a few more countryside loops beckon.

But back to today, or at least tomorrow - looking forward to the first Galileo of 2008 tomorrow - it should be a nice warm up for Ciren' this weekend!

:-)

Out of the frying pan ...

Newbold Comyn, Leamington Spa, 26/1/2008

Until now, I hadn’t really taken my XC training very seriously. In fact, until now I could probably tally up the number of training miles on my fingers! So the lead up to this race was something different for me. I found myself out at lunchtime in driving rain, hail, more rain and a few moments of sleet. So to say that this raised my expectations of the possibilities of my own performance would be a fair statement.

The field was huge, but I was lucky to get a nice spot just a few rows back from the line. The starter shouted a whole bunch of instructions that no-one bar the front row could hear above the thick din of anticipation, but it didn’t matter.

The gun went off and we were all scurrying and jostling for position. The field started very quickly, probably encouraged by the very good surface underfoot as we rounded a sports field. Quickly I realised that I was being sucked into the crazy pace and so, given that this was 12k as opposed to the usual 8k of the Oxford league races, I decided that it was better to rather tap off and conserve than kill myself too early.

There is nothing worse than being passed; feeling that you’re dropping down the order faster than a lump of lead. In retrospect I’ve come to realise that it was largely a function of the sheer size of the field, and the high standard of the competition that a small drop of pace meant being passed by so many runners, but at the time it just felt awful. I just had to keep telling myself to race my own race and to keep it steady until the finish was “in sight” at which time I could notch up the pace and take some places back.

The course was very fast and mostly flat bar a steep climb up “Beacon Hill” and, thankfully after Culham, the conditions were generally quite good. There were some nice tricky bits around trees and hedges which rewarded the agility and preserving momentum, and there was a nice mud splash; I quickly realised that I could gain an easy 10m through there by simply not tapping off. Everyone I followed in there would slow down and ease into it, I just went in full taps, made a big splash and exited a nearly full pace. It wasn’t very graceful, I got covered in muck and once nearly saw me face first in the mud, but it did feel good to have this weapon in my arsenal.

The first two laps seemed to take forever, but the last lap went by in a flash. Towards the end of the 2nd, I could almost smell the finish and I turned up the pace. Soon I started catching some of those lost places which felt great. But I was still feeling oddly disappointed with my speed as I out-sprinted two runners squabbling amongst themselves on my way to the line with a metre to spare.

Spotted the results today and now I’m feeling pretty chuffed with it after all. 181 of 379, 51’59” (4’20”/km). A minute faster than my projected time based on my previous performances (The Lore of Running, Tim Noakes – what a book). Our front runners, who usually easily win races in the Oxford league came in at 37th and 55th. Our team, top on the Oxford league, came it 10th out of over 30. So with the benefitof hindsight, I realise that the competition in this race was pretty strong, and that I did well to get the result I did, even if it didn’t feel like it at the time.

Next race is our club home event; it will be at Cirencester Park. Looking forward to it, the shorter distance should suit me well – I’m looking forward to a good result :-).

Leamington Saturday

I'm bursting with excitement. Tasha has finally bagged an agent, and I'm feeling strong for Saturday at Leamington.

It's 12k, so longer than I'm used to - but I'm in much better form from actually bothering to train. Another bonus is that the venue is 2km from the train station, so the ride will be a nice loosening up.

Can't wait!

:-)

Missed Banbury ... but 2008 feels great

2007 ended with a rather sad fizzle. I was sick as a dog with gastric fireworks on Christmas Day, took a few days to recover and after an exploratory ride at the end of the week I realised I was still too knocked down to realistically race the Banbury round of the Oxford Mail XC league.

But 2008 has felt completely different. I was glad to have taken care of myself and recovered from my illness properly; I've felt strong and fast on the bike all week - well the last two days anyway.

More motivation has come from having been asked to run for the club in the Midlands Championship on the 26th with the penultimate Oxford XC race the weekend after. The following month sees the last running race (for me) of the season (the Reading Half Marathon Corporate relay that we intend to win) and the start of the Criterium season with racing at Hillingdon.

2008 feels great.

Go big or go home

After experiencing a distinct lack of traction in the Culham mud on 9mm spikes, I decided Id definitely need to get a set of longer spikes. I had intended to fit a set of longer spikes before the Culham round, but crawling around the insides of power stations and a bit of globetrotting put paid to that.

So this weekend, after a nice fast training run, I wandered over and got myself a set of 15mm spikes. Cool, huh?

Character building...

I won't even pretend to understand Cross Country. It is mad. A bunch of seemingly rational people running through knee deep mud in the stinging rain on the first day of an English winter.

The weather wasn't looking good, a howling westerly and "heavy rain" on the BBC's 24-hour forecast. After a short hop on the cosy train to Didcot Parkway, then wrapped up snug in suitably fit-for-purpose lycra, neoprene and other wonderful synthetic materials, I gently rode the easy 10km to Culham Park, the venue for the second round of the Oxford XC League.

The access road was a quagmire, and my bike soon looked more like a crosser than a roadie for all the mud. A precursor of what was to come.

I spent a while trying to locate the club tent only to discover that in attempting to erect it, the tent had almost blown away so race HQ ended up being the boot of Bill's car. After getting changed, but still wrapped up in as much synthetic wonder fabric as had with me, I decided to check out the course. Fortunately from the top of the hill nearly the whole course was visible, or so I was led to believe - all I could see was mud.

Before long it was time to warm up, shed layers and head to the start. As it turns out, the start area approximately comprised a sort of shallow muddy puddle about 1" deep. The gun fired and we were go.

I was keen to get up with the quicker runners, so I got up to speed quickly and moved my way up the pack. The opening stretch was wet but fairly solid underfoot, so I felt quite happy and got into a nice fast stride.

All too soon we reached the first turn and the start of uncharted territory; the solid sparsely grassed ground was swapped for a muddy cut up field. It was a soft, squishy sort of mud. It was mostly at least 200-300mm deep; or at least that is where your foot would stop sinking. Some had their shoes sucked off by the mud! It didn't feel like running, every step was a battle; trying to keep the pace I was rapidly heading for the red.

The course then turned to head along the Thames. The mud was just as bad, but fortunately a narrow grass border provided some respite; although slippery, it was at least relatively firm.

But now the new enemy was the killer headwind that we found ourselves heading into, and it was relentless. It was now about 1km into the race and I was burning. Trying to stay upright, trying to find some traction and push myself forwards, it was all killing me. It was nothing like running at all - not running as I've known it anyways. To add insult, I found myself just heading steadily backwards. I was putting in all I had and I was being passed like I was standing still, the old hands seemingly skimming effortlessly over the mud.

After what felt like an age, it was time to turn for a quick blast across a (thankfully firm) grassy meadow, then back onto a muddy track ready to run up a steep bank, back down again and then back up. For me the climbs, steep and sharp, were a respite of sorts. I think my power-to-weight helps a lot and with the banks being grassy, I was able to get purchase and drive my way up fairly easily. I was able to make up some ground and a few places but before long we were starting lap two (of three), I was back in the mud and losing ground badly.

And this is where I think I started to really experience what cross country is all about. The rain was lashing down, and into the headwind the drops mercilessly stung my face. My muscles were screaming, not just my legs but my whole body! Voices in me screamed, "Stop! Just stop! You can stop!" All I had was my will. I had to keep going. For me. I was completely out of my depth, like in those dreams when you arrive at the velodrome with a BMX. All wrapped up in my misery I was innocently nudged by another runner passing me and I fell into the mud. I dragged myself back up and willed my feet to get me back up to speed. Before long I was back on the steep climbs, and incredibly I found myself making up places.

Running in the mud still felt alien, but I was starting to get the hang of it. Heading into the wind for the last time I accelerated and felt the closest to a rhythm that I'd felt all through the race. The stinging rain didn't matter anymore, the mud didn't seem to be dragging at me quite as much. Turning across the meadow I sped up a bit more still, and took back a few more places. Accelerating up the climbs I was burning, but now it was like a drug. I couldn't get enough so I went faster still. On the final stretch some guys from the team were cheering me in, my legs moved faster and I picked off one, two, three other runners. Too knackered to note my position or stop my watch, I found a spot to squat down and catch my breath.

According to the results online (http://www.oxonxc.org/), I came 82nd, in 39'17", and in doing so contributed to the club's first team retaining the top spot in the league.

I've never felt so completely hopeless or clueless in sport, but I've also never had such an acute sense of achievement. I still have a lot to lean about cross country running, and in the bargain I know I have a lot to learn about myself. What a wonderful journey.