Iliyra

Resurgence and the Three Peaks

My fellow participants (Ben, Bethan, Lucy, Becky, Clare, Ed, Alan) and I set off for Fort William in a Minibus, seemingly stocked with enough supplies to scale most of the planet's eight-thousanders. After a long and well-sustained cruise up north, we arrived in Fort William that evening and with a decent nights shut-eye, some minor faffing and coffee-shop dwelling we're ready to tackle our first peak - the mighty Nevis - at 4pm the following day.







What did I say about standing around at the top? Our deviation from the path had cost us far more time than we'd allowed for the Scafell leg. I descended the now clearly visible path at a half-run pace. Once at the bottom our excellent support team provided me with more carbs than I could hope to consume and before long the last of my team mates completed the descent, and we were on our way to Snowdon.

Apparently the last leg of the road journey was a slow one, but I wouldn't know as I'd managed to pass-out almost as soon as the minibus started to move (a rare, almost narcoleptic talent I posses). I awoke shortly before we arrived at the start of the Pyg track ant Pen y Pass - our chosen route to the summit of Snowdon.

True to form, the wind-driven rain drummed against the side of the minibus, and the peak itself lay buried in thick cloud, almost similar in shade to the slate that defined the region. I think the sight of these conditions, combined with the now 'challenging' time constraints on ascending and descending this peak (in accordance with the rules of the three peak challenge) were enough for some our team to call time on their involvement in the challenge.

I began the ascent at a pace that I can only describe as 'highly f**king motivated'. Gone, was any notion of a team ascent. I figured it was going to be a close call, and that if I wanted to complete within 24 hrs I'd need to shift, so that's what I did, passing hordes of fellow, sodden ascenders, many with faces familiar from encounters on the previous two peaks, on my way to the crowded summit. After a brief pause in the swirling cloud and driving rain, I began my descent, and soaked to the skin by fine Welsh rain, I completed the Snowdon leg in 2 hrs 20 mins.

I wallowed in a damp, solo celebration at the foot of the Pyg track, as the minibus was nowhere to be seen. As it happens, It was attending to a far worthier cause - collecting the other members of the team who had descended via the Llanberis track. So, with no remaining mobile phone battery power, and consequently no means of contacting the rest of the team, I paid the price for my unilateral action by making my soggy way to our hostel in Llanberis, on foot.

Despite the unceremonious end to the challenge, I have to say I loved every minute of it, and regardless of whether you think you'd actually be able to complete all the peaks within 24 hrs, I'd highly recommend giving it a crack. If nothing else, you'll experience (but not necessarily see) some of the most wonderfully dramatic landscape the UK has to offer.

 

The London Triathlon 2009

This is one of my favourite events, and holds some 'sentimental' value in that it marked my first foray into the world of Triathlon (I entered the sprint distance back in 2003). Like many others, it also marked a change in my lifestyle and general attitude towards what was achievable in life. I went on from my first race in 2003 to completing my first Ironman (2006) followed by the Etape du Tour and many other endurance events (including giving me the confidence to embark on a 25-day Arctic expedition, but that's another story).

Anyway - all dreamy reminiscence aside - I'm obviously passionate about this event, as the fact that I've done it every year since 2003, and talked a number of friends a family into entering over the years, might just testify.

Over those years I've read plenty of criticism about the London Triathlon, from the entry fee to the 'impersonal' nature some people seem to experience. While I can understand an event of this size (10,000 competitors over the weekend) and in this location (East London) isn't going to be every body's cup-of-tea, I think those factors just add to the enjoyment for me, the atmosphere, sense of occasion, the enthusiastic spectators (including those enjoying a beer or five in a pub garden edging the run course). Oh and how can I forget - a bike course that loops out to Westminster, through the Limehouse tunnel, on completely closed roads!

Overall it's a particularly flat course - and that means fast. Even for a very recreational triathlete like myself, I can manage a fairly impressive-sounding finish time of 2:20 which always feels good. And lets face it - fast, flat-out races can provide just that extra bit of adrenaline.

The swim leg usually provokes the biggest reaction when talking to others about this race - 'eugh, you swim in the Thames??' to which I respond with a positive 'yes - apparently it's up to EU bathing standards' which is usually met with some surprise. In all honesty I don't know what that really means, other than I've swum in this particular part of the Thames seven years in a row and never felt any ill effects (I'd estimate I've probably drunk at least 1 litre during that time!). How does it taste? Warm and slightly Briny.

So how did it go this year? Well - I guess (2hrs 20mins, and 54th in my age-group). I was over a minute faster than last year overall, although my swim leg (my weakest discipline by some margin) was poor - over 29 mins. My wave start was at 8am, and the swim heads out in an easterly direction, right into the rising sun. I never remember this being much of a problem before, but this year It really seemed to impede my navigation (well that's my excuse anyway - it didn't seem to bother those who finished in 22 mins!)

Given that I'd focused on cycling over the past 6 months or so, I expected that to be my strongest discipline, however it turns out I was a few seconds slower than last year (this has obviously justified a large expenditure on a Tri-specific bike sometime in the next 12 months - in my mind anyway). I guess the run provided the biggest surprise - I was worried that the complete lack of run training over the past months (knee problems) would be telling in my run time, but quite the opposite. I completed the 9.4k run in 38:50 - which for me - is considerably faster than I ran last year!

So I'm already thinking about the 2010 event, and it's early enough in the year that I can ponder over some completely unrealistic goals for next year - like turning that 54th place age-group finish into first place. All I need is that incredibly expensive Triathlon bike...

 

Epilogue 2009

After a definite gap, I'm starting this blog up again, for no other reason than a desire to keep a journal about some of the things I've done, and to (hopefully) keep me focused on some of the things I'm planning on doing over the next 12 months.

So it's currently the end of August, and here in the UK you'd be forgiven for thinking the Autumn was already here, with and with the nights already drawing in, I'm trying not to think too much about winter training sessions on the bike - having to reluctantly drag myself out into the darkness, wearing long tights, several layers and making sure I'm lit up like a damn Christmas tree.

Okay, so I still have a little while before the winter sets in. Only a few weeks ago I completed this years Etape du Tour basking (or dying) in temperatures of up to 40 degrees C on the slopes of the legendary Mt Ventoux. This was the most epic climb I've ever done on a bike, and definitely the toughest - as the many heat exhaustion casualties strewn along the 22km climb would testify.

Whilst on the subject of the Etape - I have to talk it up a little (in case anyone happens to be reading this, perhaps wondering if they should enter). This years stage from Montélimar to Bedouin was, by far, the most exciting, most epic and the most scenic, bike event I've ever been fortunate enough to take part in.

Riding 170km on closed roads, racing 9000+ other riders, through stunning French scenery is something well worth experiencing if you're in anyway enthusiastic about bike racing. If the stage is right (it's different every year), and the weather good - it's truly an awesome experience.



So where do I go from here? Well, a week spent in France, doing some superb rides made a hell of difference to my fitness (along with some weight-loss due to the entree-sized portions served by the hotel). After a tough year in terms of work-load and persistent knee injuries, I'd got to that point in the year where, I guess, my fitness is at it's peak - which is a great feeling, although something I've never been able to hold on to for long. Historically, as soon as the 'big event' or 'A-race' of the year is finished, I loose motivation all too easily and before I know it weeks have elapsed since my last training session.

This pattern is something I'm more than just keen to break over the coming autumn and winter months - I have to break it if I want to push myself out of this plateau I seem to have occupied over the past couple of years.

So the over the coming weeks, I'll be trying to decide on next year's target events (at this stage, Ironman France or the Alpe d'Huez Triathlon are favourites) along with attempting a first for me: A structured approach to training!

 

Gateway

I'm writing this shortly after departure from Canada's capital city - Ottawa, and en-route to Resolute bay, a small hamlet well inside the arctic circle - and the staging point for many an Arctic expedition, including the one I'm involved in - the Rock Solid expedition 2008.

Since my departure form the UK 3 days ago, Its been a fairly hectic schedule, including sorting out some of the variety of technology due to accompany us on the expedition (some of which hasn't quite made it in time), the inevitable last minute spend at some of the great outdoor shops in Ottawa (Mountain Equipment Co-op being my favourite) - buying everything from an extra pair of merino wool underwear (extravagant I know) down to bear-scarers and pepper spray - in-case of any particularly close encounters (during an expedition in svalbard last year, an overly inquisitive bear, cut a hole in our tent - no doubt intrigued by the variety of smells emanating from the seasoned inhabitants within)

One particularly challenging aspect of the expedition so far has been sorting out the food. No mean feat when you need to procure enough food to provide 4800 calories per day (not a massive amount considering we're attempting to man-haul sledges weighing c.80kg over 300 miles) for two people, for 25 days - just under a quarter of a million calories.

Breakfast and dinner is largely taken care of by specialist dehydrated meals and whilst they can't exactly be described as the finest of dining, after a couple of hard days, you're soon glad of them. It's sorting out the dining in between that's the tricky part, as you don't stop to cook anthing, it's a case of having high calorific food to graze on at regular intervals - anything from oat bars to beef jerky to slabs of chocolate. Its all just fuel.

I'm working on a 30-50-20 split on calorie consumption throughout each day - that's 30% (1440 calories) for Breakfast, 50% (2400 calories) for 'lunch' / regular interval grazing and a modest 20% (960 calories) for dinner. How well this will work out remains to be seen, as consuming over 1400 calories for breakfast isn't an easy thing to do (even for someone like me whose appetite could conservatively described as 'very healthy indeed'). On my last arctic expedition I took too little food and really felt the effects - including quite a drop in muscle mass.

So yesterday saw me pushing a comically overloaded trolley around one of Ottawa's supermarkets, trying to make up a shortfall of 89K calories. Every item thrown in the trolley would be first entered into a spreadsheet on a pda, so I could keep a running total. Inevitably this behavior attracted quite a bit of interest from the other shoppers who stopped to enquire what the hell we were up to.

I'm due to land in Iqualuit shortly and am looking out of the window at the awesome view over the vast pans of sea-ice below. From there it's another 4 hours of flying to reach Resolute Bay, and getting back to the frenzied organisation of food, pulks, clothing, tents and technology that needs to happen before we leave for Grise Fjord on Thursday - the start point of our expedition.