Life Can Still Be Great

Life Can Still Be Great

This week has been quite a good week. Not that there’s been bad weeks but there’s certainly been ‘not so good’ days.

This unique (I refuse to use the most over used word of 2020) situation has had me thinking about everything I used to do and whether or not I really want to go back to that. For example, it’s been 2 years since I changed jobs and just a swim teacher was never the end goal – so what am I going to do about that?

I have a huge list of things I want to see and experience – am I truly working towards that or am I just writing them down in one of my many notebooks (girl always loved her stationery) and pinning them to folders on Pinterest?

So I started with looking through what courses are available online to do at this moment. There’s thousands! Absolute thousands! Anything you want to learn about, well now is the time to do it! I’ve now done quite a few of the short courses and thoroughly enjoyed them. I had also just started my Level 2 Coaching when all this kicked off so I kept my eye out for anything to help me with that. I received a few online meeting invites too and booked in to them.

I picked up some fab ideas of what could be done to help adjust and overcome. I didn’t recognise some of the names of the attendees but a quick google search (the new term for stalking, let’s be honest) had me realising I had just been talking to the coach of Olympic athletes and an Ironman Uk winner! Best of all though, we had completely agreed on our way of thinking of how you deal with this situation and that was before I knew who he was!

That’s not the only great thing to have happened recently though. I would like to add to that list that I successfully managed to change the battery in my speed sensor for my bike, I ‘almost’ changed the strap on my watch by myself (screws were too tight for me to move), I managed to get the right jar of chilli sauce that Joe requested from the shopping and I haven’t crashed or bumped the car in a fair few weeks now – that’s definitely a record for me.

I’m also still out running. Not as often as I would like but enough to keep me ticking over. I’m still bored of the same dreary route although further along the trail on the river is definitely better. However when my sister-in-law posted a picture of some malteaser cake she had made and said she would leave some out for me I thought ‘what the heck why not.’ I have to skirt round the town to get to theirs and I’ve been avoiding that as it can be really busy even before this happened but I thought I would see. True enough there were more people than I have seen in a long time but it was ok. And the malteaser cake and chat was worth it.

Mmmmm cake

And lastly, a little Strava art. The Tri Club has been putting together little challenges each week to keep people connected and motivated. The latest one was to draw a picture using your Strava tracker. Sound easy? Not so much. First problem is trying to think of something to ‘draw’. I went with a picture of a swimmer, cyclist then runner – not appreciating just how difficult that would be. I enlisted the ‘help’ (a term I use very loosely in this case) of my kids. Oliver decided to pretend to be a pirate and swoosh his sword he had insisted on bringing up and down the field whilst Lucie alternates between recording Tik Tok videos and sitting in a teenage strop.

It was quality family time….

Despite the satellites not always playing ball it came out not too bad. Eventually.

So yeah, life can be great right now. I’ve picked up advice from an elite coach, changed a battery, had success in the supermarket and drawn a picture.

Next weeks got a lot to live up to.

Looking for – and losing – a loch

Looking for – and losing – a loch

I am just SO sick of running the same route over and over again. It’s boring. And it has too much tarmac.

So. Armed with the knowledge that there was a loch nearby with a trail round it I decided to go ‘adventuring’. It did involve a mile or 2 of the same old route but knowing I was turning off of it made it just slightly better. Spotting a rainbow painted rock also made me smile. (Obsessed with rainbows right now, can’t get enough of them.)

Up the hill and past the school I went. I had been told the Loch was sign posted so I kept my head up looking for it. Past a few houses and a nice looking farm. Down the hill and…wait a minute… I know where this is. I’m just metres away from that boring route I’ve been doing for weeks! I turned round and looked back up the hill.

Nope. Not going back up there. It’s too hot. I will go down the river instead on the other side and hopefully find some trail.

Best decision ever. It was a fab run. Slow, as the path is extremely narrow, but really enjoyed it. And so quiet.

After a thorough google of where the turning should be (and several Strava stalks later) I headed back out for attempt no 2 a couple days later.

Ok I’m at the school. It’s somewhere between here and the bottom of that hill. I know I’ve to keep left. Stay left, stay left, stay left. Ooh a path!

Up the path I trundle reciting my mantra/guide ‘stay left, stay left, stay left.’ I almost enter a field before I realise it is just that – a field – and not a path. Not that far left Ella. Be careful.

Another quite steep hill bit but this time it’s in the shade. Seeing as it’s really quite hot now I decide to slow right down and take advantage of the cooler air. The forest is lovely, so peaceful.

Top of the hill and I’ve found it! I’ve found the loch! Whoo hoo. Mission accomplished. I have a short chat with a couple who are walking back (well, more of a raised voice conversation given the social distancing). They’ve just discovered the loch as well.

It’s really small so I decide to run round it before heading back home. I head anti clockwise, still with my mantra of ‘stay left’.

There’s a short bit of path and then you have to find your own way. Not a problem. I’m enjoying this! I’ve gotten so sick of tarmac recently. My mind starts wandering back to a couple of the ultras I have done and how much I have loved them. I miss running that distance. I have my goal for next year but I’m pretty sure I could fit in a decent ultra or two.

I’m still telling myself I could convince Joe it’s something I could do when I suddenly realise I haven’t seen the loch in a while. I’ve ran round enough bodies of water to know you’re not always on the waters edge but I try to have a look around. I can just about see it through all the trees. Sweet.

I continue on the path I find and it’s quite tricky underfoot so I’m being careful not to fall. Now is not the time to be needing to be saved. My thoughts turn to the most recent phone call from his doctor gently reminding him of how serious this current situation is. It’s a hard thing to hear.

This head space time is exactly what I need though and the fact I haven’t seen anyone since finally finding the loch makes it even better. It’s getting steeper and hotter and although I’m thoroughly enjoying the run, I certainly don’t have any power in me. I eventually make it to the top of a hilly bit and see nothing but open fields.

Hmm. When I googled this place on the map it wasn’t that close to a field I should be seeing. I should at this point be on the waters edge. I stop and try to spot my location on my phone using Find Friends.

I’m nowhere bloody near the loch! How has that happened? It was there. It was right there! I sit on a stump for a minute or two and try to figure out where I went so wrong. I can’t be wrong though. I kept left. Just as I saw on someone else’s. My phone must be wrong. There’s no way I’m that far from the loch. I’ve barely been moving for a start.

None the less I head back down the way I came. The lochs got to be down here somewhere. Carefully watching where I put my feet I retrace my steps. Or at least I think I do. When I look up I don’t recognise anything around me. None of it looks familiar.

Have I entered Narnia? Did I fall out the back of a wardrobe and not notice?

All of a sudden I’m at a gate to a field and being stared at by horses. Well I’m not going in there! How has this happened? Where the hell am I?

By now I’ve almost had enough and stomp my way back up the hill. I know Joes going to be on the phone soon asking how much longer I’m going to be. His doctor had advised limiting the time everyone in the house was outside as well and by now I was getting close to the hour mark.

I had only gone a short way when I saw it. The bloody loch was right there. But yet again I had stuck to my mantra of ‘stay left’ and had gone too far left. Not only was I back with the loch but I was also back where I started.

It took the full 2 miles home before it clicked that although I had studied google and had it set in my head how to follow the path. And I had indeed stayed left when I began to go round it, I had to go RIGHT to actually GET round it…….

I’m now researching navigation courses because quite clearly this is not a strong point for me!

Lockdown Life – The Race Is On

Lockdown Life – The Race Is On

I’ve always believed that sport brings with it attributes that cross over in to your daily life. Triathlon is certainly no exception to that rule and I know I put it on my CV when I updated it.

At times like these though, I am even more grateful for having discovered the sport – and discipline – as it helps me to survive.

Racing (or just scraping the finish line to be more accurate in my case) is a true reflection of life in our current situation. Let me explain.

The Supermarket. Whether it’s a 70.3 or a super sprint race I am and always will be absolutely terrified before the gun goes off. White as a sheet, feeling sick, nerves shot to hell and on the brink of an almighty panic attack. I have now found I am experiencing these exact emotions when going shopping.

It starts when I’m getting ready. Do I have everything? Bags, keys, mobile, hand sanitiser, gloves, detailed list of what to get. Then it’s in the car. Can I remember how to drive? It’s been a while. Next is parking. How far away from everyone else can I park. But I’m guaranteed someone parks right next to me.

Then there’s the queue. Thankfully both supermarkets in my area now have lines marked out. But for some, they find it hard to stay behind a line. A lot like certain drivers at traffic lights. Or people on bikes trying to draft you in non-draft legal races. Ie every triathlon I’ve ever done. The nerves hit when you’re in the queue though. You start to get sweaty. You don’t know when you’re going in. You continually spray your hands. Your worried people are staring at you – questioning you. Instead of ‘she’s going to die’ because of the swim, it’s now ‘is she infected?’.

Then the security guard calls you forward. ‘Ten people, move!’

Ok it’s probably not as harsh as that (and by probably I mean not at all) but it’s intense. And it feels just like those beeps on the gate at a 70.3 when you’re called forward and told to go. So it’s one last breath and in you go…..

Game on! Mission – get in, get out, fast as you can, don’t get hit by anyone, don’t get dunked, do what you need to do and get out!

Precisely like the infamous swim of a race.

List in hand and I’m off! Pace yourself Ella, you can do this. If you need to stop and create space you can do that. Just breath. You’ve swim this distance, sorry, been to the supermarket loads of times before. You. Can. Do. This.

Gammon. Where the hell do I find gammon? I don’t eat gammon. I don’t even know what meat that is! (But I do know it’s meat therefore I’m not eating it). Ok, phone Joe. He’s not answering his phone!!!! Blood pressure is steadily rising, heavy breathing has started. Oh god, oh god. Ok. Calm down. Deep breaths. Reset. Just ask someone.

Not a single soul looks approachable. They are the competition! Can’t blame them, don’t think anyone wants to be here right now. It’s getting crowded. That guy is getting a bit close. Too close! Time to move, stuff the gammon.

That’s pretty much the same as when you stop to adjust your goggles that have been whacked off your head and you see a pack coming towards you in the sea. You leave what you’re doing and you get the hell out of there.

Transition is next. Coming out of the water and trying to find your bike. Or in this case trying to find flour so I can make the salt dough that every family is making so if you don’t you will be the worst mother in the world. No pressure.

Finding your bike in transition is phenomenally difficult for someone like me. At my height all I can see is wheels. I’m not tall enough to see over anything so leaving a brightly covered towel on the handlebars doesn’t work and it’s pointless on the floor because there’s crap everywhere. However. I’m slowly beginning to get used to this. I’ve devised a system that seems to work ‘most’ the time.

Being knee height to a grasshopper today however, is my ninja skill. I spot a packet at the back on the lower shelves – no bending over required for me Mr I Can Reach The Top Shelf. (There’s no flour up there either pal). Elbows ready to defend my space.

Back to the bike – sorry, shop. It’s a one way system. There are arrows on the floor everywhere. Now, being one who is highly likely to get lost I’m very accustomed to following arrows. (Thank you Race To Stones for your thousands of arrows). So I’m well prepared for this. I’ve trained for this! Need to go down an up aisle? No problem. Down the next and a u-turn to come up that one. Simple. Even I can do it and not get lost. Oh look, gammon!

Unfortunately, it appears at least 50% of the population can not. I’ve even purposefully started staring at the arrows then at the person coming the wrong way, locking eye contact with a stealthy glare. But then I had a nightmare that these people changed in to zombies and chased me down and infected me with corona (not the beer) so I’ve stopped that and went back to minding my own business. It was a very bad dream.

Back in to transition and it’s time to find a checkout. I’m very selective about my checkouts. Just like my running shoes. I want to make sure I’m comfortable with my trainers just like I want to be comfortable the checkout person isn’t going to throw my flour at me. Luckily, through racing, and being able to determine who is likely to push me out their way and who is not, I’m quite good at reading people.

Final stretch. Pack, pay and go. Food is packed. I get out my card and go to pay. Disaster hits. The cards not working! I’m not leaving here without my shopping! It’s like completing a race and not getting a medal! Panic very quickly sets in. What do I do?? Joe phones. (Now he’s on his phone!). I’m trying to use an old card I reported lost. Somehow it had miraculously reappeared. Use the other one. And did you get the gammon?

Out to the car and it’s like being on the red carpet to the finish line. Sailing past all the other people waiting in the queue. I’ve done it! I’m finished! I got the shopping!

I get home and it’s straight to the sink to wash hands. Obviously. I take a well deserved seat to try and calm down on the couch. Joe puts the shopping away.

‘Why did you buy tuna, I said gammon!’

5 Words

Is it possible to write – or even think – about anything other than that virus right now?

From day 1 both Joe and I had our heads turned by what we were hearing. Now, I’m not about to go down the ‘I told you so’ track as I’ve never really paid much attention to the latest big topic and it could have been something over nothing.

But it wasn’t. It’s here. Our lives are affected.

At first I was a bit disappointed when my races started to get cancelled but I wasn’t surprised. My coping strategy with everything is (in true scout behaviour) be prepared. Through preparation I pass through acceptance, usually quite smoothly as I’m distracted. And this works for me.

Knowing the effect this virus could have on Joe and not fully believing that kids aren’t likely to catch it I wasn’t one for taking chances. I pulled our daughter out of school when a bus load of kids and teachers returned from a ski trip to northern Italy and were at the school the day after. My decision as her parent. Had something similar happened at our sons school or at my work I would have taken the same action.

Joe has been told by his doctor if he catches this virus he will go straight to intensive care as he has nothing in his body that can fight it.

So yes – if I mention social distancing to you I AM FUCKING SERIOUS!!

I have been mocked and ridiculed by those who haven’t taken the situation seriously. I’ve seen the eye rolls, I’ve heard the back handed comments. I’ve chosen to respect your opinion on the matter and not ram my opinion down your throat but, eventually, it all got too much.

I thought I was coping with it. I actually thought it wasn’t something big enough to have to be coping with. But I was wrong. I ended up phoning Joe from work – I could only get 5 words out – ‘can you come get me’ – he knew instantly – ‘be there in 5’.

I spent 4 days in tears with a crushing elephant on my chest, not wanting to go back to work, not wanting to see anyone or speak to anyone, worried what I was going to do about child care, feeling useless because I should be at home with my family. I did every errand, afraid if Joe goes out he might catch it. And let me tell you – doing the food shopping when you have NO idea about food does nothing to calm you down. Every two minutes I was on the phone because I either didn’t know what something was (still don’t know) or where it is. But it has to be done, by me, alone.

I went paddle boarding with a friend down the river. I was in two minds but I checked with the centre who reassured me everything was sanitised and they were following strict distancing rules. It turned out to be the best therapy. I paddled off to the side whilst she chatted up the instructor. An hour and a half of peace and fresh air.

Back on dry land and the elephant resumed its position on my chest. All good things come to an end as they say.

The next day I tried a run. Running is my go to companion. Feeling down? Go for a run. Need to think something through? Go for a run. Make the tea? Order take out and go for a run. But I couldn’t breath. It was a constant stop start and it genuinely freaked me out. I didn’t want to walk as I wanted to get home. I couldn’t phone Joe because I didn’t want him leaving the house. A herd had now descended on my chest.

Then came the news. Lockdown. No non-essential travel. No work. Pubs, clubs, leisure centres, gyms all to close. You are allowed to leave the house once a day for exercise. You can go food shopping and you can get medicine. That’s it. This. Is. Real.

You’ll notice I haven’t mentioned my goals for this year. How the virus has put me back in training etc etc. That’s because it’s not the most important thing. (Did I really just say that?) Yes I’ve gone from 10 hours training a week to countless rest days and a pathetic attempt at a push up challenge but I don’t care. Not right now. I care about my family.

Of course that may change after 3 weeks of being locked up with them – we lasted less than 10mins in the living room all together yesterday morning.

Times are hard. They’re hard for everyone right now. But as I keep saying to our daughter, we are all in the same position. This is hard for everyone in different ways and we all need to respect that. For now, I will enjoy the time with my family. I will listen to the government and follow what they say. I will run when I can, turbo till the cows come home and maybe try the push up challenge again. Maybe.

On The Hunt

On The Hunt

My my it’s been a while hasn’t it! Life’s been hectic – a bit too over whelming at times – but things are easing up so hopefully dust settles. Things got too much at Christmas but we won’t let that happen again.

I did the New Years Day Tri. My nemesis of a race. And I’m pleased to report that my swim finally improved so that’s that put to bed! Highly likely I do it again next year though ha ha.

Joe and I also ran as a team for a leg of a relay race. I did do 2 recces but it turns out I’m not quite as good at map reading as I had thought. All was well on the day though and it was (almost) fun running with my other half. It definitely reminded me how much I love running on the trails and in the hills though. I miss it.

And now I’m on the hunt for a pool to do some actual swimming in. Lanes aren’t available for a decent length of time OR very often at the one I work at. There are times the pool even sits empty in between sessions and I think an awful lot could be done to improve availability but hey, not my decision. So that leaves me needing to find another pool to train in.

Last week my good old dad drove me to the next city to try one out there. My car was in for its MOT and I would have gotten completely lost on a bus. The experience of being in a car with my dad is somewhat similar to being a test dummy on the first try of the worlds most jittery roller coaster. In plain – my nerves were shot to sh!t and anxiety levels through the roof. But he was doing me a favour. I had to keep my mouth shut.

Unlike him of course who took great pleasure in telling me how brilliant and fast everyone else looked in the lane next to his dwarf of a daughter who was snaking through the water. Naturally, my dad claims he used to be able to swim like a fish. He’s more fish supper now however. With the mushy peas.

The pool was good. Not too busy. Friendly enough people. Very nice lifeguards. But could I heck find out how to get in the lane of my choice. And we won’t mention how I got out – oh god. Pulled myself right up on the wall with the diving boards and avoided ALL eye contact with every single person in the pool who saw me and had the clear expression of ‘what did she just do?’. (FYI – I think I was meant to swim across the other lanes to the steps. Whoops). Only issue with the pool is I wasn’t allowed paddles.

Today I tried a more local pool. So local in fact it’s actually closer to me than the pool I work at. It always has a lane for swimming though and I know someone else who trains there and she gets on fine with it. So I paid my £15 day fair (how much?!) and wandered in. Unfortunately I had picked the time when aqua aerobics was in so the lane was busy. I have never heard of this lane being busy – ever. Clearly I have a skill for identifying worst times to train! (Maybe I should put that on my cv). Anyway. Being the newbie I really didn’t want to annoy anyone so I waited and watched the other swimmers to determine a gap I could slip in to.

Now let’s be clear. I may be a swim teacher. I may be a coach. I may even have completed several triathlons. A ‘fast’ swimmer however, I am not. And never will be. I can swim until I’m wrinklier than an Egyptian mummy but fast just isn’t me.

So when I was still standing there a full 2 minutes later – baring in mind this is a 20m pool, not 25 – I genuinely had to ask myself if one of the blokes was just floating rather than swimming.

This was not going to be good.

Off I went though. Trying desperately not to splash the blue rinse brigade right beside me getting their groove on to a Tom Jones number. First hundred done and it all seemed ok. Second hundred however and it all went Pete Tong. And I’m not just talking about the music. One lady was lovely. Stopped at the end to let me past every time with a smile. Even the floating man was jovial and loved a bit of chat on my rest breaks. The third woman however, was having none of me. She was swimming (breast stroke arms and I think it was meant to be front crawl kick) and she wasn’t for letting anyone by. If you got close she went to the middle of the lane. She never swam right up to the wall she did a sort of semi circle turn thing. And she had a look of utter disgust whenever I was close. To be fair she was probably wondering what on earth I was doing. (It’s called swimming love!! Properly!) It really didn’t help when I pushed off the wall on a turn and practically ended up on top of her. I genuinely thought she was further up the lane. The final crunch however came when someone got in the lane and started walking! Walking! Up and down the lane. I had to admit defeat and give up on my set and just do what I could.

I got chatting to an elderly woman and she said she usually avoids when the aqua fit is on because you can’t swim. Any other time is fine. You also can’t get a space in the changing rooms or to put your stuff up and you can forget the cafe after. All points duly noted. Trust me.

After the longest 3km swim in the history of time I get out to get dressed. The showers amazing. It’s one of those powerful ones that I could stay in for hours. I’m not a fan of the gentle, trickle ones. Give me power any day!

The changing rooms are busy but it’s fine. It’s a bit weird when a woman walks in wheeling an actual suitcase with her swimmie in it but each to their own……

Also. There are a LOT of people who sit and put on full face make up in those changing rooms. Honestly thought they were all about to be going on tv or something. Me? I brushed my hair. Job done.

So where does that leave me? A 1 hour round trip to the next city to use a good pool but not always be able to use paddles. A pool on my doorstep that has good opening times, very clean changing rooms but only 1 lane and it’s 20m. (It’s also quite expensive). Nag my husband to either build us a pool – because obviously we have the space for it – or buy one of those nonstop pool thingies. Yes that’s it’s ACTUAL name, nonstop pool thingy.

I think the search will have to continue.

Next up on the race calendar is a sprint next month and I’m hoping to improve on last years time. I’m also hoping not to accidentally do 4 laps on the bike instead of the required 3. Wish me luck!

Team Webley On Tour – the Weymouth edition

Team Webley On Tour – the Weymouth edition

What can be said about Weymouth? Well. The words ‘easy, flat, smooth’ do not enter my thoughts put it that way!

Just one week before, my entire race was put in jeopardy after being struck by an episode. I’ve had nothing in almost 2 years and then out of nowhere I hit the ground 7 days before race day. Luckily Joe was with me but I didn’t escape a trip to A &E later that night. I did convince them I didn’t need to stay in for observation though. There was no need.

So it was touch and go whether I would be starting, and if I got to start whether I would finish. The only way to deal with it was to break it down step by step.

We get down there and, well, it’s Weymouth. It’s windy! The sea was horrendous. We tried a practise swim but no. It was like being thrown back to Edinburgh 70.3 that first year. It did tell me I needed nose plugs though and after much running around trying to 1) get people to understand my accent and 2) find someone who knew what nose plugs were I eventually found a swimming pool that had a pair. And like the hero he is Joe took off to get them as the place shut in 20 minutes.

I also didn’t have a bike pump so had to buy one of them. I could only find a huge, heavy lump of metal which Joe didn’t think I could get on to my bike but you’ll be amazed what a girl with a bunch of hair bobbles can do!

The night before the race was spent practising removing my wet suit. After taking a Stanley blade to the sleeves (not during a timed removal, let’s not be too dramatic) the arms were ok but there was no getting my fat legs out the bottom. I did consider taking the blade to my legs but it would take a chain saw to get through these tree trunks.

Race morning and my heart and chest are ok. I’m going to join the race start and see what happens. Joe on the other hand is not. As much as it was touch and go for me, it was the same for him. He is constantly in pain. The only thing that changes is the level. When he sent me to my start area an hour before go time I was convinced he was pulling out. With crohns it’s very much a case of yes, you can make plans but you might have to cancel them last minute. He did start though and he did have a good race.

The sea had calmed down a lot but the decision had been made to shorten the course. My first panic was whether or not I would make cut off. I think I will always worry about that though. In the end I had a good swim for me. I was only elbowed and hit a few times and I kept to a very straight line.

I would love to ‘gloss’ over T1 but in the time it took me to remove my wetsuit you could not only have had a cup of tea and a biscuit, but you could have had the entire weeks worth of tea and biscuits! Bit disappointed no one offered to help if I’m honest. If I’d seen someone struggle like that I would have helped rip the thing off.

The bike was good. Apart from the punctures. Both of them! How do you get 2 punctures?? I may have spent Saturday night practising wet suit removal but maybe some of it should have been spent practising punctures. There must have been well over a hundred on course. I had 2, another PTC had 2, I read online someone had 4. The mechanics ran out of everything and the punctures cost quite a few their race. I lost an awful lot of time and I would be disappointed but that’s part of racing. It’s why you can’t compare races. Weather plays a huge part as well and we may have had calmer seas but the wind was definitely present on the cycle! And it brought its friend the rain with it too.

At least my second transition was marginally better – but by this time my head had given up and I was solidly in ‘ultra’ mode. There was no rush. My bike split had been ruined in my eyes at that time so I wasn’t wasting effort.

I had no hunger to get a good time on the run and with the heat rising I was acutely aware of my heart so held back. I could have pushed, I probably should have pushed, but I chose to be cautious/lazy. I knew I would have regrets after but I also knew I needed to have trained more with my run. Yes I can run 50 miles plus but running 13.1 after a swim and a bike isn’t the same. It’s not the place for long pacing techniques.

Having family out on the run though was fantastic. 2 years ago I secretly planned for them to show up for Joe doing Weymouth and it meant a lot to him. Having them there again this time with what he’s dealing with with his crohns had the same effect. And they are not quiet cheerleaders! I could hear them way after I had shuffled by. It was awesome.

Being back of the pack means one absolutely fantastic thing – you get that red carpet to yourself! All the way up! And did I cross the line holding the stop button on my garmin? Did I heck, what was the point! I actually forgot all about it until I was in the finishers hall. I raised both arms, grin on my face as I reminded myself I very nearly wasn’t able to start this race, never mind finish it! Albeit a very, very long time after I had started ha ha.

Afterwards I had to get my tracking fixed as my ankle tracker had not worked and the results had DQ’d me. Now I know my race time was bad but I still finished ha ha. It was a relatively easy fix though thanks to my garmin.

So lots of areas to improve on. Didn’t think I would be saying this but the run needs work. I’m not ready to admit Joe was right and doing ultras at the same time as triathlon isn’t working but ‘I’m just saying’. Bike and swim too have some way to go.

And as for that wet suit……..

Where Have You Been?

Has it really been 2 months since I last wrote? Crickey!

Well it hasn’t been that quiet a 2 months. I haven’t been back in ‘that’ loch again but I have been swimming at a loch closer to home. It’s smaller, a lot calmer, and, most importantly, it does not contain any extras from a Chris Pratt movie. (It does however have lots of a lot braver women than me who swim with no wet suit!)

I’ve been doing more cycling too. I’ve been out on a couple of group cycles with other members of the tri club. I may or may not have refused to ride down the completely vertical freshly gravelled path and gotten off my bike savagely repeating ‘nope,nope,nope,nope’ (I was not the only one who did this. The other guy didn’t want to scratch his hugely expensive frame. I didn’t want to scratch my well worn in human body. Same priorities – just slightly different details.)

It helped a lot going out in a group though. Finding new routes, chatting away, picking up tips. I’ve also been on what was called a Cornering Course at a bike track. That was fantastic! Absolutely bucketing with rain, couldn’t see a thing at times, shivering to death, but man how smooth the track was! I can’t wait to go back and try and whiz round it. Great cup of tea after too.

And then there was Australia. AUSTRALIA! 2 weeks on the other side of the world seeing my brother and his family and basically falling in love with that way of life. We took our bikes over and discovered the roads were so much more friendlier than here. We went running and discovered places we wouldn’t have seen otherwise. I ticked off a couple of places on my bucket list – Natural Bridge in Springbrook and Mount Warning – there are genuinely no words at how awesome that was.

And now I’m 2 nights away from my next race. A half marathon up and down a Munro.

Because, you know, a flat road one would be boring.

I’m so excited. Ridiculously excited in fact. I get to run up a Munro! In an actual race! Oh and did I mention it will be as the sun rises?

I KNOW!!!

I’m going to need people to phone me and text me reminding me I’m meant to be running and not just taking in the views. I honestly can’t wait.

Not so keen on the huge compulsory kit list I need to carry but rules are rules.

The run is part of the Starman Triathlon. Jo from the club is doing the midnight swim (midnight swim!) and her husband is doing the cycle. I’m definitely getting the better section. Sunrise on the mountain! Hello bucket list!

It’s 2 miles up hill to start then down again with a run up a Corbett after. It finishes through the woods and on to the beach.

Can you think of a better run? Nope. Me neither.

Of course there are cut off times and I am slightly cautious about them. I need to work out where I need to be by when to know I’m on track. Unfortunately my other half won’t exactly be awake at 4am to text me and tell me to get a move on either. Hmm, could be an issue here.

I’m sure it will be fine. Either way it will be a great ‘night’ out with lots of laughter and pictures. The best thing about it is it advertises itself as ‘not a race’. It’s an experience. One I’m looking forward to.

I should however, be experienced to know that I should have checked my kit by now. I’ve spent most of the night scrambling round for a compass, spare batteries (not for the compass) and the ever faithful flapjack I like to have when running. I really should be better organised than this.