All done!

All done and dusted! I finished the last leg of the triathlon this morning, after swimming 192 lengths in 87 minutes. Three miles is about 4.8 kilometres, which works out at 192 lengths. I was keen to do it under 90 minutes, but wasn't sure what kind of pace I could sustain over that distance. It's not just the distance, of course: swimming 192 lengths in the pool involves 191 tumble turns, which takes its toll on your back, knees and ankles as you flip and then push off. So, for much of the swim I wasn't swimming too hard, only really pushing it over the last forty or so lengths.

In the end, it wasn't tiredness I was feeling by the end of the swim but friction: it's probably indicative of a bias in my stroke, but the for last ten lengths my left armpit (!) was getting really sore as my arm rubbed against my chest on the pull-back. By that stage, I could also feel the goggles starting to cut into my face (turns out, low profile racing goggles aren't very comfortable after 87 minutes). But I was nearly done, so I picked up the pace and finished three tough days with a final couple of sprinted lengths before gladly peeling (yes, peeling) the goggles out of my face. I tried to pause my Poolmate to get a photo of the distance and time readings, but I haven't quite figured it out, so I have some photos of the lap count and another of the time elapsed (after being out of the pool for five minutes), but not both together. If I can figure how to transfer them, I'll post them tomorrow. The lifeguard on duty at East Sands witnessed the readings for me, though, just in case anyone doubts me.

So we're done!

I'm not quite done with the blogging though: various people deserve some honorable mentions for their input, either as sponsors or supporters. I'll do that tomorrow. For just now, let me just point you once more to the official websites for Project Zambia and remind you that, however much I have enjoyed the last few days, there has been a reason for it all. All of this has been undertaken to raise money in support of a University of St Andrews project, sending students to Zambia to raise awareness of HIV-AIDS. These students are making huge sacrifices to be involved in this exciting project. Dig deep, folks.

stage 2 done (in)

Well, we did it. We weren't quite as fast as we might have liked: I was still struggling with my cold and Sean wasn't used to running up such constant steep gradients, but we made it nonetheless, in about two hours to the summit. The descent was somewhat faster; as always, though, it was that part that I found the most difficult. On the climbs, my aerobic capacity and lactate threshold mean that I can keep going up the steep gradients, and hill-running is all about marrying that to an economic, centered kind of running. The going on the path up Nevis gets pretty unstable underfoot after the 2,500 foot level, though, and there was a bit more walking than running. The last 800 feet of altitude was still covered in snow, frozen and rutted after a winter's climbing, so there was a fair bit of caution to be exercised there, but the run across the last section to the summit was fun nonetheless. The descent really hammers the muscles, though, as you fight against gravity in a very different way, struggling to keep momentum under control, and that's when I get tired. By the time we got back to the car, my quads were well and truly wrecked. Thankfully, Shawn was tired too!

Interesting observation: Shawn and I were very careful in our choice of footwear and ran the hill with backpacks stocked with warm clothes and recovery foods, but all the way up we were passing walkers with woefully inadequate clothing and footwear. I can't help but feel that with treacherous conditions on the summit - hard ice, cornices, and fresh snow falling while we were there - it might be a kindness to our rescue services if walkers could take some basic preparations ...

Anyway, 2 down and 1 to go. The last leg is tomorrow: a 3 mile swim before work. That's about 200 lengths of the pool.

Click on the links above to give to Project Zambia.

Stage 1 done!

Well, that's part 1 of the three day nightmare done and dusted: the Bealach race completed in a just under three hours. It nearly never happened. Since my practice run last weekend I have been feeling washed-out and on Thursday it turned into a cold (several colleagues have been down with the same thing). On Friday it was looking like I might have to pull out of the race, but I downed a traditional Fife cold remedy (a Fisher and Donaldson fudge doughnut - a legendary combination of condensed energy and hope) and come Saturday morning I felt like I at least had the energy to give it a go.

The morning of the race was sunny but freezing, with a hard frost on the ground as we drove across. After registering, we grabbed some serious porridge at Nanny's cafe: porridge made with cream, covered with brown sugar and more clotted cream. Bearing in mind that we would be burning off about 4,000 calories in the next few hours, it felt justified. I was still feeling pretty washed out from my cold, too, so I was looking for any energy I could find. I followed the porridge with a chocolate bar and a tube of gel.

Jocky and I set out at about 10:35, five or ten minutes after the first bunch. In the photo above, Jocky is in front, which is pretty much how it remained for the rest of the day! The wind by now had picked up, which was pleasant for the first few miles as it was with us; by the time we reached the top of the Bealach, it would prove to be a nightmare, with 40 mph crosswinds. The climb up the Bealach took me about 44 minutes: I could probably have gone faster, but with my cold, I didn't want to burn out early on the climb, so I held back until the hairpins. It was slightly gratifying to make it to the top without stopping, especially as the people who passed me at the lower part of the climb were forced to walk on the steeps.

The drop down the other side was tricky; those crosswinds pushed the bike into a wobble at one point, so I was very cautious with my descent. Jocky was now a couple of minutes ahead of me, so I had a few gruelling miles on the other side, toiling alone against the strong headwind. Eventually a group caught me and I worked with them for the rest of the race; drafting, taking turns at the front, grinding up the frequent 20% climbs. With about 8 miles to go, as I was beginning to make my way up the pack, something failed in my front mech. I spent about 3 minutes trying to fix it, eventually giving up, and finished the remaining miles of the race on my inner chainring, which was fine on the climbs, but frustrating on the descents and occasional flats. Eventually reached the end, with an official time of 2 hours 59 minutes. That's twenty minutes faster than last week and, given that I had a cold, a decent time.

More blogging later.

Hard going on the Bealach

I didn't get a chance to post anything yesterday on the blog: it was late and I was shattered by the time I got back to my folks' place. So here is my update on yesterday's (not so) dry run on the Bealach.

I got to Shieldaig about 4pm and set off at about 4:30. There is a gentle and steady climb out of the village and some undulating terrain before you hit the Bealach turn-off after about 14km. The climb itself is steady but not too steep for the first few kilometres, and I kept a general pace of about 15kmph, watching an eagle gliding below me and dark clouds gathering above. The road eventually makes its way into the glen below the pass, at which point the gradient begins to kick up. I had read that the long straight climb at this point is worse than the hairpins, but had assumed that it was because psychologically it would just be a slog. Nope: it's this point that the road is at its steepest, steep enough that the front wheel was lifting off the ground when I put too much force through the pedals. My speed had dropped to 7kmph and I was genuinely wondering if I was going to crack. Just at the point where I thought I was going to have to stop, the gradient eased off as I reached the hairpins which, to be honest, were a skoosh after the straight. Looking back down, the gradient of the straight was apparent. You do need a little bit of a head for heights at this stage, as the terrain plummets below you and the crash barrier sits disconcertingly below knee height. The photo above looks down on these; I'm not sure how well it conveys the difficulty of the climb and bear in mind that this, to me, was the easy bit. After the hairpins, the road levels off for a more gentle climb to the actual summit. Now, I had noticed the temperature dropping as I came towards the hairpins, my breath visible in the air; by the time I reached the summit it was cold enough that the rain that had started to fall had turned to snow. As I stopped in the car park at the top to down some energy gel, the snow got heavier. I toyed with the idea at that point of going down the way I had come up, which would have made for a shorter day in the saddle. I was nervous about the prospect of the remaining miles being a slog through wind and rain, but part of the reason I had done the climb was to get a feel for the descent, so I committed myself to doing the full route and dropped down towards Applecross. It was probably one of the coldest, wettest and most miserable times of my life. The road was slick with sleet and I had limited visibility, so I couldn't go at any real speed; my brakes were on all the way down and were gradually dissolving under the pressure. By the time I reached the bottom of the descent my fingers were blue, my toes were numb and I was shivering badly, which is not good: once you get cold, you get tired, and it is very hard to get your body out of that state. Still, I turned towards the coastal route back to Shieldaig and picked up my speed again to try to warm up. Actually, I was going much quicker now than I had on the descent. The sun came out, after a fashion, but there was a fierce headwind that kicked in when I crested the next rise in the road. That was basically the story for the next 15 miles: a 20-25 mph headwind made for a tough ride, made tougher by the constantly undulating terrain, with short steep climbs killing any momentum. My legs still felt heavy and dull after the cold and without anyone else around to draft and work with, it was just a psychological battle, as the miles went past much more slowly than usual.

At last the road bent round towards the east and that wind stopped blowing in my face. The last ten miles were a bit easier, though just when I thought I was starting to make time back and pick up my speed, I hit a couple of nasty climbs with brutal gradients, the front wheel lifting again until I came out of the saddle. I also nearly got taken out by a psychopathic sheep. Eventually, much later than I had hoped for, I rolled back into Shieldaig and enjoyed the glorious refreshment of a Snickers bar and a cup of coffee. At the time I thought, I really don't want to do this again next week. But a day has passed and now I'm looking forward to it again. And at least, should anything happen over the next week, should I get a cold or an injury, I can still say I have ridden the Bealach, and claim that sponsorship with integrity!

On which note, if you haven't given already, please click on the links at the top of the page to donate to Project Zambia.

First attempt

No training yesterday. I thought I'd give myself a break in advance of today's first attempt at the Bealach. So, in a few minutes I'll jump in the car and head up to Shieldaig. If I get the chance tonight, I'll post some comments.