Cold, wet but not so miserable

Last week saw the return of Arctic conditions to the south east and as the train came out of the South Downs on Monday night it was shocking to suddenly discover we had arrived in Narnia. Not such a problem for a Monday being a rest day but I was slightly nervous that the weeks schedule would be interrupted.

Fortunately the trains were running on Tuesday morning (therefore no excuse to miss swimming) and as I stood shivering on the platform waiting for the 6am train I decided I need a warmer coat next winter! As darkness fell on Tuesday night the paths were still icy and I got a text to say that Paddock Wood A/C was cancelled. After a panicked email to my coach I was told strictly not to get on the turbo as I had suggested. So I spent my 'night off' cooking food for the next few days.

On Wednesday, despite praying for a blizzard turbo training was not cancelled, which meant only one thing: Threshold testing. For those of you who don't know that is 20 minutes as hard as you can to see a) what your maximum heart rate is and b) what your average is. The data can then be used to calculate what your heart rate zones are. It's not pretty (yes the beads of sweat did drop off of my face) and despite that annoying little voice in the back of my head saying "I don't want to do this" I completed the session, and managed to do it without coughing once. Plus I got a new threshold. Result :-)

However Thursday morning my legs were tired and objected loudly as I got back in the pool and warmed up. After the previous week's 61 minutes to get to 3km I was determined to get it down and kept pushing despite screaming legs. At 60:10 there's still room for improvement.

By Friday night I really didn't feel like getting back on the turbo but after work I duly completed another hours set of drills. The rest of the night was spent cooking for my personal mechanic (whilst drinking his cider) as Tim fitted new brakes and tyres onto Doris, my winter bike to try and prepare it for the onslaught the next day.

I laid in bed on Saturday morning questioning my sanity as I listened to the rain falling on the roof. It sounded torrential and it was. However it was the last week of the 50 mile course so there was no backing out. We were all wet through quickly, although morale was high for the first few miles. We soon reached the stage of hard slog through the puddles, but it was the freezing winds that made the going hard on the flats. Nobody wanted to stop and open their cereal bars so energy levels were falling fast. Just outside Horsmonden we hit the hill with a bang, and one (experienced and competent rider) hit the wall and bonked. We took a warming rest at Paula's and ate home made brownies (thanks to Ruben the master chef) and rang our gloves/socks out, but the second scare of the day came as another girl turned blue and couldn't hold the tea mug. Thank goodness we had a former paramedic on hand, even if he was otherwise occupied making us all tea (cheers T1).

There was talk of abandoning the ride, if we scooted down to Paddock Wood we could hop on the train back to Hilden (For about 5 seconds I seriously debated riding home and going back for the car on Sunday) but I still felt fine, and besides, it could be that cold and wet in Nottingham on 7th July! So there really wasn't any other option but to put the wet clothes back on and get back in the saddle. As we got back down on the flats 2 riders peeled off to the station and the rest of us decided to head straight back in, which would still leave us with 40 miles under our belts. The rain began to lighten, morale rose and in the end the spirit of the blitz stuck in, so we added the miles back on and got our 50 done. The tea back at Hilden was most deserved. Well done to everyone who got out of the bed and trained that morning, it would have been easy to roll over and pretend that the ride was cancelled.

Unfortunately my training schedule had an additional 45 miles pencilled in so I went home, put dry kit on, and hopped onto the turbo trainer. It was a good way of getting warm again, although I only managed 30 minutes (to later be told I needn't have done any!).

It was a massive relief when I got a message saying Sunday was a rest day, with 5 consecutive days cycling looming I needed a day off. Not sure I ever get any rest on a rest day though as I frantically washed and dried my kit for training camp.

Forgive me father for I have sinned... It has been 3 weeks since my last blog

I thought you might be getting sick of a weekly list of I swam, ran, cycled, swam, cycled a lot and topped it off with a couple of runs, so here's what's been happening over the last 3 weeks.

First of all I had a recovery week which was timed nicely with my hospital visit to investigate my coughing, and I couldn't train for 24 hours before, so running the night before was off the cards.

The hospital wasn't exactly my idea of a good day out (made worse by having to get off the tube at South Kensington with a million families on half term days out to the museums). However my lung function test was remarkably good (apparently I should be about 80% - I was 112-120%) at one point I had to sit in a sealed glass box and blow down a tube. The worse was the camera down the back of my nose (yes gross) giving a room full of doctors and nurses (am I a lab rat?!) a delightful view of my larynx whilst I span at 100rpm with increasing resistance on an exercise bike as old as me. The verdict was reflux, and the treatment is prescription strength Gaviscon (yes really) which tastes just lovely, but that's better than most other options.

At 2am the next morning I woke with a raging sore throat, my first thought was that the anesthetic had worn off. Nope. A nice dose of man flu. Saturday morning saw snow and ice so cycling was out of the question, but foolishly I decided I was well enough to go for a blast on Sunday morning with Paula. Initially I felt great, but paid for it later, and ended up in bed all day Monday. Somewhere outside Yalding we passed a puddle which had sprayed all over a bus on the roadside. As the water dripped off it had formed hundreds of little icicles and was pretty amazing.

After a few days of taking it easy I was back in the pool pushing PB's although I to remind myself on the Saturday ride when I felt tired at about 40 miles that I been ill most of the week.

Last week saw everything back on track, and for the first time I hit 3km in the pool (but it 61 minutes, gotta shave that minute off) and the first of my Sunday runs saw me hit the 8 mile marker for the first time ever. It never gets easier going out for a second time on a Sunday but it brings the week to a perfect close.