Race Report – Dambuster Duathlon – Rutland Water – Saturday 5th March 2016.

My first, and until last Saturday, only Duathlon was in November 2007 when I took part in the Ballbuster at the legendary Box Hill. That was a unique experience – 8 mile run, 24 mile ride, 8 mile run up one of the most scenic but overrated hills in England. It was a tentative first foray into multi-sports, I’d taken part in my first ever sportive a week earlier suffering from a heavy cold and hadn’t really recovered a week later. While I quite enjoyed the experience cycling took a back seat a few months later when the first child was born and I concentrated on running.

Last June I took part in my first sprint triathlon and the Dambuster Duathlon at Rutland Water was to be my first real attempt at giving a Duathlon my full attention. I had entered last year’s Clumber Park Duathlon but was unable to take part due to injury. This year I was more or less fit to go, despite suffering from the calf tightness that has burdened me on and off for the past six months.

Not only was I concerned by the calf in the days before the Duathlon, the weather was looking decidedly iffy for race day, with predictions of ice and snow at worse, cold and windy at best. With snow falling in much of the country the day before, it was touch and go. Thankfully the snow didn’t reach the East Midlands and when I woke at 5am, it was raining, it was cold, but it was above freezing and looking ice free – so the race would be on.

It was going to be a family affair heading down to Rutland Water. Most of the packing had been done the night before so the early morning start wasn’t too traumatic and we arrived 90 minutes before the 8:15 start. My pre-race routine for running races is very well established now, but I am still a total novice at ‘athlons, so spent much of the 90 minutes pfaffing around. I had trouble getting my front wheel back on the bike thanks to it being so cold I could barely feel my fingers.

Once the bike was safely stored in transition and I decided I wasn’t going to risk trying to mount my bike with the shoes on the pedals, I fretted over what to wear right until the last minute. Eventually I opted to be as warm (and slipstreamed) as possible on the bike ride, even if that meant being a little overdressed for the run. This meant I wore the following: thin tights with triathlon shorts underneath; compression socks, a thermal vest, Witham Wheelers short sleeved cycling jersey, arm warmers, thin running gloves with thick winter gloves ready on the tri-bars for the bike leg. At the last minute I went with running sunglasses as the sun began to unexpectedly peer from behind the thick clouds. I also ditched the beany hat and the ear warmers and the second long sleeved thermal top.

I managed an underwhelming warm up of just under a mile, which offered encouragement in the fact the right calf just ached a touch rather than downright ached. I headed to the start area for the pre-race briefing. One final pit-stop and I found myself running frantically to the start line, the organisers opting to start the race a couple of minutes early.

With a starting horn we were underway and quite quickly onto a patch of grass that, for the moment was firm underfoot. The pace was frenetic, this being a World Age Qualifying race meant the quality was high. I made a solid but not over exuberant start, keeping in view the familiar site of fellow Belvoir Tri Club runner Adam Madge. With the first mile covered in 5:39 and with a heart rate of just under my half marathon figures, I felt fairly comfortable and truly in my comfort zone in the familiar surroundings of a road race.

We had a small patch on grass, which was slippy but not too bad before heading out for another mile or so before turning back for the return 5k. I passed Adam in the second mile as I ran a 5:35 and began picking off runners as I settled into a good rhythm aided a touch with a nice tailwind. The third mile was 5:38, when we turned and began to face a cold headwind. I had been overheating a touch with all the clothes I was wearing, now I felt comfortable.

Then it began to rain, a brief but fairly heavy shower. It didn’t really slow me too much with a 5:39 but during the fifth mile my right calf began to tighten and ache. Previous experience of the issue meant I knew I could carry on running through the discomfort, but it was enough to make me mentally want to ease up the effort. Add to that the short off-road section had now begun to get churned up and muddy plus the icy cold wind had become a head wind, the fifth mile slowed to 5:58. The final full mile was a rolling affair, still picking off runners I was motivated to put in a final surge, running 5:48 for the final mile and completing the 10k in a respectable 35:20.

I was 23rd overall and 6th in my age category at the end of the first run. Not bad, an indicator that the quality of field was high. My transition was a disaster. I struggled to fasten the helmet, I then opted to run barefoot to the exit of transition before putting my bike shoes on. This meant my feet were soaked before I started the bike ride. My official transition time of one minute is respectable. However I believe I spent the best part of another minute trying to put my bike shoes on, in a panic I’d not realised I hadn’t loosened the velcro fastenings, making them impossible to put on!

Once I’d mastered the art of putting on a pair of shoes, I set off on the bike leg. However it took another minute or so before I could begin cycling in anger. I put on my thick winter cycling gloves while riding okay, but then when trying to tighten my helmet using the wheel on top of the wheel, found it was impossible to do so with the gloves on. I couldn’t ride with the helmet so loose so I had to remove a glove, tighten the helmet and put the glove back on again, all done at fairly low speed.

Finally once onto the main road I was able to begin riding. The legs felt quite tired after the ride but I was able to get them going after a couple of minutes. The feet began to chill in the cold wind, the gaffer tape I’d put on as a potential fix on the ventilation holes failing badly. However, the gamble of wearing extra gloves paid off to some extent, as except in the final miles when the rain fell and we faced the full brunt of the arctic induced headwind, I was not dangerously cold, just cold enough to not be able to put a satisfyingly full effort in.

What was soon apparent on the bike ride, not that I needed any confirming, was that to cut it with the big boys at this level, an entry level road bike simply won’t suffice with the all singing carbon fiber TT bikes the vast majority of those who came flying past me were riding. I was thoroughly demoralised on the first downhill stretch at the start of the Rutland Ripple where I was going full gas trying to keep up speed when a guy on a fast TT bike flew past me freewheeling! I watched him all the way to the bottom of the hill when not a single pedal revolution occurred, yet he must have put 150-200 meters on me. I managed to catch most of it back on the subsequent ascent, before he swiftly disappeared when the road plunged back down again.

That became the pattern of the remainder of the ride. I could hold my own on any hills the ride had, but on the flat stuff and the descents I was horribly exposed and not best enjoying it. All the while my calf grumbled and I wondered how it would fare on the final run leg. I entered the final transition point having taken 1:19:02 on the bike leg. Far too long when the fastest bike leg was a staggering 59:52. I will never be that quick but I am hopeful that with some decent equipment under me and more practice at time trialing I could knock many minutes off this time. As it was I dropped overall from 24th to 65th and from 5th at the end of the opening transition to 12th by the time I re-entered it.

The second transition was almost as calamitous as the first. I got off the bike okay, opting not to take off the shoes and instead try to run in cleated bike shoes, which is not easy. Not paying attention I ran into some barriers with the bike, fortunately without damage, but with some seconds lost. I then couldn’t find my place in the bike racks, running down the wrong channel. It was only the screams from my wife and kids that pointed me in the right direction. At least I was able to remove the helmet without difficulty, my hands still warm. Apparently there were a number of competitors who required assistance as their hands were too numb to feel what they were doing.

Despite the woes, somehow apparently I climbed two places during transition. I set off on the final 5k leg just a few moments after the leading competitor had finished. I hadn’t time to dwell on the enormity of his achievements, instead I had to try and get my legs working again for the run leg. The first patch of grass was now churned and muddy, my shoes slipping helplessly. I then struggled as best I could for the first mile, the calf aching, the quads not best pleased. It felt slow, but the first mile was covered in 6:05. I then struggled loads on the longer grass section which was slippery in and muddy.

At the turnaround I spotted fellow Belvoir Tri Club member Adam just a few seconds behind me. Keen to be the first Belvoir home, I picked up the pace a touch once the grass section had been muddled through, ignoring the increasing ache in the right calf. The second mile was a 6:03 and the final mile was run at 5:48 pace, which was good enough to keep Adam at bay and to complete the final 5k leg in 17:25. My wife and children were there to greet me, which pleased me enormously but there was a real sense of disappointment at the finish. I was frustrated that the transitions were so bad, disappointed with my effort in the bike section, grateful that the bad calf made it to the finish but frustrated that it hindered my performance a touch.

During the race I had no idea where i had finished. I found out on Facebook that I was eighth in my age group (57th overall), which was better than I had thought I had managed. For a first real effort at Duathlon I should be happy, but there is knowledge that I could have done better that has tempered the joy. The weather too made it a mostly miserable affair plus too many novice mistakes put me out of the comfort zone I enjoy when taking part in running races. Hopefully at my next Duathlon I should have a TT bike in my possession which means I will be able to compete on a more level playing field.

2016 London Marathon Training – Week 8 (22-28 February)

Having enjoyed a near uninterrupted run of being able to train whenever I liked, Monday 22nd February brought an abrupt end to all that fun with a 5:45 am alarm call to see me at my desk a couple of minutes later. Formula One had lurched back into life with the opening test of 2016 and I was about to enjoy perhaps the busiest few hours work of the year as an F1 Picture Editor.

Thirteen or so hours later and I was able to let go of the mouse and consider the day’s exercise. The usual spin class had already commenced so I headed out for an easy paced run. The left hip grumbled for a mile or two, thereafter it was a mostly trouble free affair, albeit with a lengthy stop at the Meres for a pit stop and a natter with GRC runners who had just finished their run.

At eight and a bit miles I had the option of turning right to head straight home or carry on forwards for a two mile loop to conclude. The legs feeling good I opted for the latter. All felt good until I reached the same turning on my return when I just felt the outside of my right calf tighten. It grumbled for the final half mile, then on finishing tightened significantly all over the calf and high up in the hamstring. It was essentially a repeat of what first occurred at the Chester Marathon in last October and again on two or three occasions subsequently.

This put running out of the equation for a couple of days at least, although the continuing F1 test meant this was not too much of an issue. I’d always planned weeks 9 and 10 to be fairly minimal on the running front because of work and three races on consecutive weekends. On the Tuesday I was able, during quiet moments at the test, to put in two hours on the home elliptical trainer. The calf felt fine on the trainer, as it always seems to. The stop-start nature of putting in 10-20 minute efforts around work coming in made the session quite tiring, but it was better for the body and mind than dong nothing at all.

Wednesday turned out to be another really busy day at the Circuit de Catalunya so it turned out to be an enforced rest day. Thursday I was able to do an hour in the trainer during the morning in two chunks and I was just about able to finish work in time to head to the club for the marathon paced session I was due to take. As it turned out only two other runners turned up to run, my right calf had already begun to ache a fair but by the time we reached the club. Coming down the first hill of the run the calf began to tighten a lot and I decided to cut the run short when we ran past our house.

Disappointed to have only covered five miles I headed straight onto the elliptical trainer for quite a charged hour long session, pulling higher RPM on higher resistance levels than I had done previously on the relatively new machine. The calf ached a bit but as with previous occasions, it can’t be a pull or a tear as there is no real searing discomfort.

On Friday morning there was no test but I was in charge of looking after the family so I put in another fairly high intensity session on the elliptical trainer, this time for 90 minutes. The right calf was again a bit achy, but otherwise I felt fairly strong.

Saturday was the National Cross Country Championships which is covered in another piece on this website. Suffice to say that the effort had me fairly whacked on Saturday evening and I had no problems getting to sleep hopefully ready for Sunday morning’s bike ride.

Heading to Witham Wheelers for the eighth Reliability Ride of 2016 I could sense immediately that the body was still quite fatigued from Saturday’s race. The last group to set off was a Group 3, 4, and 5 combination. I put in a stint at the front from the off and I could feel that while I was okay on the flat stuff, the first hint of an incline and I was in trouble. This is the total opposite of what is normally the case when I am one of the stronger riders on the hills and struggle to keep up on the flat stuff.

I made it to Melton Mowbray okay but I was dropped on a climb out of Melton. I was able to get back onto the group but 20 minutes or so later there was the longest climb of the ride and I was out of the back door within seconds. There was simply nothing in the legs for me to be able to keep up with what was really quite a modest pace. I dug deep and was able to keep the group sufficiently close to be able to catch them back up once the climb’s summit had been passed.

I think the fact I was able to regroup when it seemed that all hope was lost helped me mentally for much of the rest of the ride as I felt more comfortable thereafter. A long fairly flat section certainly helped matters, as did two small packs of Haribo consumed during a brief stop. The group worked well together riding in and off as we battled with a headwind. It was only at the short sharp hill at Skillington did I once again lose contact with the group, although I was once more able to dig deep on the flat bit after the hill and catch up with the group. We then had a bit of fun on the closing section ramping up the pace and having a mini sprint finish which I opted not to take part in as there seemed little point.

This all meant that the 62 miles was covered in 19 mph, which was pleasing considering that at 25 miles I thought there was no way I was going to be able to finish the ride. I rode home after a quick hot cross bun break, and to my surprise was able to muster a 5k brick run. The right calf was aching a bit but bearable, the pace was very similar to the week before, where the legs felt fresh in the final mile to run 6:30 or so.

A bit of a frustrating week, but it was always going to be a compromise with the F1 test to be covered and if there was a week to suffer an injury that minimised running, then it was a good week to have. It is likely to be more of the same in week 9 with a four day F1 test, a calf which is still sub-par, and a race on the Saturday to consider and taper for.

Race Report – English National Cross Country Championships, Donington Park, Saturday 27th February 2016.

I Hate Cross Country… But For Some Reason I Signed Up To The Nationals…

Many moons ago when I first joined the Kenilworth Runners committee they had a newsletter published every month or so as the idea that everything could be hosted on a website was still a little too radical for a few members. I was on the board as club administrator but actually did no administrating at all. All I did for the first year or so was write a few pieces for the newsletter.

One piece that caught the attention of a few members was a  piece called I Hate Cross Country… But I’m Willing To Give It Another Try. In a radical departure from the every race is awesome and brilliant theme that tends to infiltrate race reports, I dared to illicit my disdain for cross country racing. I hate racing in mud, racing on uneven ground, splashing through puddles and streams in the rain and cold. What’s more I am not very good at it. Runners I could beat my minutes on the road over 10k I’d struggle to keep up with as I sank awkwardly in mud, struggled to keep my balance, generally cursing the whole experience.

The only thing that kept me trying it again and again, running the Birmingham League primarily, was that it’s a rare opportunity in running to compete as a team, where the performance of each individual is more important for the good of the whole rather than the sole. It was the camaraderie that was appealing, albeit in a why am I doing this exactly? form.

I think the articles ran for three cross country seasons before the joke ran its course and they quietly disappeared. Then a couple of years ago I moved to Grantham. I returned once to take part in one Birmingham League race early in 2014 but took part in none since mostly due to injury then due to a general lack of enthusiasm, despite the amazing performances of the club to finish sixth overall in this year’s overall Division One standings. I’m not allowed to compete for Grantham Running Club in the Lincs League as I am second claim for them, as it is I am a little underwhelmed by that league. It is all done and dusted by the first week in December, just as most other leagues are getting started.

I’ve only once ran in the English National Cross Country Championships – better known as the Nationals, back at Stowe school in 2000, but I barely remember any details of it at all. They were hosted in Nottingham recently but work prevented me from taking part. When I heard they were taking place at Donington Park, an hour or so from home, I took the plunge in a wave of post New Year optimism and signed myself up for the 2016 edition.

I took preparations as seriously as I ever have – I purchased a pair of spikes for the first time in 10 years having preferred the whole shoe grip of my Walshes (But they are pretty knackered now). The days leading up to the race were challenging (Explained in my weekly training diary) as a return of the tight calf blues meant my last run on the Thursday was cut short. But with some painkillers, plenty of stretching and massage, the calf passed an early morning fitness test and just before midday I set off for Donington Park.

Motor racing tracks make for great venues for running races. They are generally designed to hold thousands of spectators so can easily accommodate for a few thousand runners and a couple of hundred hardy fans. Whilst we weren’t running on the track itself the organisers had devised an equally undulating course which I doubted would be as smooth and dry as the slick asphalt uses for the racing circuit.

It took a while to find the Kenilworth Runners tent, with well over 130 clubs taking part, all seemingly with tall flags, the purpose of tall flags for identification was a little redundant. With the passing of time the familiar faces at the club become fewer, but it wasn’t long before old friends were reacquainted and new faces were introduced.

There wasn’t too much time for chat however as the start of the men’s race was less than an hour away. I found the portaloos, plentiful in number but lacking in any toilet tissue. Fortunately I had packed for such an instance, thus avoiding an uncomfortable situation. Mindful that the calf was a real liability, the warm up was kept to a mile jog, more to test the ground and to see if the spikes fitted. They did and the calf felt okay.

There was barely time for a pre-race photograph and it was a bit of a shambles as some runners weren’t there, some weren’t ready or willing, and the one frame that Captain Phil allowed had my eyes closed, people looking in the wrong direction and generally unaware that a photo had been taken….

Me and members of Kenilworth Runners. at the English National Cross Country Championships.
Me and members of Kenilworth Runners at the English National Cross Country Championships.

With laces firmly tightened, eschewing the opportunity to gaffer tape them to my feet, all that remained was the short walk to the start. Once through the holding tent we jogged to our pen – there must have been over 300 pens stretched over a field a good 200-300 meters wide. It was an impressive site; the atmosphere was electric as we anticipated the start and the carnage that would undoubtedly ensue.

Bang on three o’clock the starting gun fired and the cavalry of a couple of thousand or so runners stampeded to the first turn. Despite setting off at a relatively rapid rate there were hundreds of runners in front of me, plenty more behind and to both sides. I expected a huge bottle neck as the course narrowed but, credit to the organisers, it wasn’t as bad as I feared and we only slowed briefly.

The first few minutes were a nervous affair as I struggled on the rutted terrain running through what I believed was a field of cabbages but was apparently turnips. My biggest fear was stumbling and falling, which would have meant potentially being trampled on by hundreds of unsuspecting runners. Thankfully I stayed on my feet and luckily I heard only one cry of ‘runner down’ around me in the opening minutes.

Before we had any climbs we had a steep descent and I was frankly rubbish as I nervously made my way down the hill while others dropped like stones past me. There was a moment of respite on an off-camber section before a second drop down and into the first climb. It was here we began to overtake some of the women who were finishing their race. I felt quite sorry that they were being swamped in such a manner. Surely it would have been better to start the men’s race a few minutes later to ensure the course was clear?

No one enjoys running uphill but it is part of running where I tend to be quite strong and so it was today. Runners who had past me on the descents I retook on the first climb and then more again on the second. All those runners and more then re-passed me as we hit the main section of the course that was boggy with sticky mud. I was slipping terribly and it was here I remembered just how much I hate cross country.

I was briefly running with fellow club mate Paul Andrew, but just as I was about to give up mentally to the mud, the ground firmed up again as we began the second lap and I pulled clear of him. With the runners a little more spread out than on the first lap I was able to pick my lines a little more carefully so as to try and avoid the worst of the ruts and the mud. This inevitably meant taking a mostly very wide line which added significantly to the final distance. The right calf chose this opportunity to begin to ache. It never really hindered me that much but was sore enough to not make me want to push too much.

So for the remaining two laps I stuck more or less at a half marathon effort in terms of heart rate and ploughed on as best I could. Mentally and physically the last half lap through the boggy mud was terrible and, as we came into a boggy finish straight, I put on perhaps the worst sprint finish I have ever mustered, powerless to stop a fair few runners from coming past me.

Still I survived the race tired, but more or less intact. The final position of 427th doesn’t sound that impressive but the quality of field was reasonably high and just a minute or so faster would have seen me a hundred positions better off. I wound up fourth of six counters for Kenilworth Runners, ahead of Paul Andrew, who managed to sprain his ankle and bang his head in the final yards, but behind behind the impressive young Paddy Roddy, mud lark Phil Gould and Kev Hope, who revealed afterwards that cross country is absolutely his favourite discipline.

That’s the last thing I’d call cross country and once again I declared at the end of the race that I hate cross country… but, give it a few months to mentally forget the experience, I will probably give it another try.