This year it was somewhat different, William and I only entered the race in January. It looks very unofficial but very friendly. We haven’t even paid the entry fee yet. We pay on arrival which I think speak volumes for the Laissez-faire attitude of the organisers. As we are the only entrants from Triathlon Ireland, let alone the Triangle Triathlon Club we are going for 1-2 finish!
Normally when you enter a race of this nature, the race is always “next year”, then January comes but the race is still 7 or 8 months away. Training is easy when you know that the race is so far away. Then suddenly the race looms up on the horizon like Lewis Hamilton in your wing mirrors, - now it’s June – help! And the race is THIS MONTH!
My training went fairly well last week. As Monday was a Bank holiday, I left the kids to school, the rubbish to the dump and the car to Chris McFeely (hopefully all in the right order). As I had the bike in the back of the car, I left Benone before 9.30 a.m. I didn’t know where I really wanted to go except East. When you plan a major ride, you look at the forecast the night before and you head into the wind. The theory is that at the start of the day you are stronger so you head where it’s hardest then you turn around at half way and feel the benefit of the tail wind on the way home, though there are some days I feel as if I am into a head wind the whole way! On Monday it was warm so it was just the bib shorts and short sleeve bike shirt. I wanted a pair of arm warmers though and as my normal fluorescent pink ones were in the wash, I found an old pair of socks and a pair of scissors – problem solved! I called into Castlerock to see my Mum (and get a telling off for not doing some gardening!) then headed to Coleraine and Portstewart. For some reason I do most of my bike rides in Dannyboy County and I haven’t given the North Coast the attention it so richly deserves. After Portrush, I climbed up to Dunluce Castle, the sun shone but the wind was strong. You would have need to have been a real curmudgeon though not to be spell bound by the scenery. Soon I was in Bushmills, then past the Giant’s Causeway.
If you are ever going to buy a round then O’Briens Bar in Lisnagogue is the place to do it – it’s the smallest bar in Ireland! The fiver I had in my back pocket would probably have meant that I could buy a drink for everyone in the premises but anyhow I pressed on. Soon I was near Ballintoy and I was just knocked out by the fantastic vistas. All of a sudden, I saw what appeared to be a sculpture of a man’s face in the rocky coastline. You don’t get that view from the height of a car seat so get on your bike to see what I was talking about and appreciate natures finest.
As I pedalled further, I saw an animal in distress and got off to help. A lamb was stuck with its head in a fence and I was glad there were no Sunday Life photographers present as I approached it and eventually freed it – a few nettle stings were a small price to pay.
There was a lot of traffic near Carrick-a-reed Rope Bridge but the road rose alarmingly – was this a bridge too far? I was in the granny gear and out of the saddle, secretly relieved that my pulse meter wasn’t on my chest as it would have been sending me signals that I probably wouldn’t have wanted to see...
I could now see Scotland and Rathlin Island very clearly as I stopped for a cup of coffee and a Galaxy Bar at a lay-by road side van. Sugar and caffeine at the right time are a great boost and a we rest didn’t do any harm either. It was great to see a sign for Ballycastle and the fact that the road was downhill wasn’t bad for the morale either.
Why was the North Coast not buzzing with US and German tourists? I have travelled to a fair few spots in the world and you would need to go an awfully long way to find anywhere nicer. It’s a pity that any tourists we have seem to spend all of their time – and money – in Donegal and have just bussed in for a few hours without spending any bed nights here. We don’t seem to have the right infrastructure or hotels in place to maximise the opportunity of removing tourist dollars from the tourist pockets. Bike riding and hill walking packages would seem to be tailor made for the strength that our Georgraphy has so kindly bestowed upon us.
I found myself in Ballycastle in very busy traffic but the news wasn’t all bad. The wind had been in my face for 40 miles was now blissfully on my back. Once I climbed out of the town I time trailled between 25 and 30 miles an hour without breaking sweat. Move over Chris Boardman! Soon the East wind seemed to be replaced a North cross wind and I was back to normal speed as I passed through Armoy and Ballybogey and a few isolated hamlets on the way to Coleraine. A quick detour through Ringsend meant at least I could avoid the cruelty of the hill between Coleraine and Limavady. I ended up back at the house after 4 hrs and 15 mins. with the speedo showing a total of just over 70 miles and a feeling of a job that was well done. I settled down in the sunshine in the garden ready to eat for Ireland...
Sometimes however, if you want to lose weight you will be amazed at how little you eventually do lose. A few weeks ago I weighed myself, went out for a three hour ride and weighed myself again when I returned – I had lost precisely 0.6 of a kilo i.e. 600 grams – I could just have stayed at home and skipped a few rounds of toast and had the same effect. I know I want to be 75 kgs. on race day – it will help get up the hills that are on the 18.6 mile bike lap (which we do 6 times). You always feel good if you set yourself a target and then hit that target. It also does you good psychologically because you convince yourself that the very fact that this goal has been conquered will help you make it to the finish line.
Sometimes I see athletes who have spent several thousand pounds on a new light bike but their waistline is bulging over their belt. They could have saved themselves a big hit on their bank balance on just eating less calories at the dinner table. I have been at functions and been surrounded by several hundred professional and elite athletes and I have seen more fat on a butcher’s dog. The guys look at food as if they have never seen it before but they know that carbs (although they give energy) also can pile on the pounds (or grams in their case). My heart goes out to them.
At the minute I am about 76 Kgs. - so I am within my range of dropping one last kilo before 7.00 a.m. on June 21st. Swimming is not readily associated with weight loss but it’s still training. It’s important to keep a drink by the poolside either of water or a light energy drink. On Tuesday, armed with the requisite drink, I clambered into the pool earlier than my team mates. I thought I would get out early to once I had the requisite 3K swum but I just kept on swimming... Eventually I clocked up 190 lengths (about 3 miles). The main set was 25/50/75/100 metres times 6 with every length to be covered in 30 secs. or less – another great set from Adrian. My speed wasn’t great but hey, they don’t hand out finishers t- shirts in the Maraviaman for being quick over 100 metres.
Wednesday is bike day. The Roe Valley Cycling Club are doing an APR (or Austrailian Pursuit which is a road race by any other name). I had an appointment however with Robert Paul, brother of Anne, Ireland’s greatest several multi discipline athlete. My verucas were playing up again but I left the house a bit late. I covered the 6 miles to the NWIH at an average speed of over 23 miles an hour (downhill with the wind behind me...) quicker than I could drive Mark to school in Ballykelly everyday. Robert saw me and told me he would need to go in deep this time to rid me of this nuisance. W e agreed to postpone the pleasure of this painful surgical intervention until after Maraviaman. Robert said however that he would need to perform the op after he gave me a big injection of adrenaline – oh goodie, fun for all the family.... I decided to concentrate on the pleasure of the finish line and not think about what fate awaited me on my return....
I left Ballykelly and climbed up the Carnamuff Road. I know there are fabulous views from that road but the views were behind me and I couldn’t see them so I ploughed on managing 30 miles before walking through the back door, so hungry I could have eaten two scabby waines......
On Thursday, I decided to try this running lark. My troublesome back had been sore after a run on the Cam Forest on Sunday so I headed for grass to make it easier on the vertebrae. The John Hunter Memorial Pitch at Limavady Cricket and Rugby Club (of which I am now a proud member) was the perfect venue for my experiment. I managed 16 full laps of the pitches which hopefully was about 8 miles and was without much pain which was a real morale boost. I know that the third discipline i.e. running a marathon on June 21st will be a big test for all the hard work that my Chiropractor (Paula Gallen) and Physio (Gregory Kearney) had done over the last few months. It’s a pity that the run is on concrete and tarmac and not grass but as the man says, you play the ball as it lies.
Friday was another crazy day with a trip to Belfast in the morning and a visit to the Pig Race in Ballykelly at night so the only window I had was an early start, therefore at 6.45 a.m, I was on my bike clocking up a few miles to get me 112 miles for the week i.e. the Ironman distance. A few lengths at 5.30 p.m. was the perfect way to top and tail the week.
Saturday 4.00 a.m. came very early as Sharon and I flew from Belfast to London for the Springsteen gig. While I was in the airport I met Heather Wilson, Northern Ireland’s best cyclist with her bike box. She was flying over to Nottingham for a time trial and then next week she is going off to Holland for a road race. She is dedicated and I hope she reaps the rewards that she so thoroughly deserves. In London I was able to see Bruce play for the second time in 10 days. I hadn’t seen him for 15 years but he obviously knew that I was in the audience because he played a different set! - feast or famine etc. Again he held the crowd of 50,000 in his hands, we would have done anything he said. If he had declared, “We march on Poland!”, the only response would have been “When?” and possibly also “What’s the road surface like? Can I bring my Cannondale?”.
On Sunday morning I woke up to see myself on Channel 4 ( a more surreal sentence than that I will not write all year) for the British Triathlon Sprint Championship in Reading where I assisted a few weeks ago. The helicopter shots looked impressive as did the whole package. Suitably inspired I donned my running shoes , stumbled into the lift and the blinking in the sunshine on the Pentonville Road in Islington. I headed for Regent’s Park as I know Hyde Park fairly well but wanted to run somewhere new. They were setting up the Camden Town market fair and there were lots of joggers and bikers doing laps around the park in relative safety that is the madness of the London traffic. I stopped on the way back to view the magnificent Cathedral that is the St. Pancreas Railway station and the launch pad for the Euro Star to Paris and Brussels. I made it into the breakfast bar ready to prove that I could not only rock and roll for Ireland but eat for Ireland as well...
Travel is not compatible with perfect training. Too many different plane seats, standing on the tube, different hotel beds etc. can throw a routine out of line. No more trips and no more changes of routine for the next three weeks for me. Normally I find it hard to do “Normal” but I am going to try really hard for the next 21 days. My week had finished with more than 10 hours training, I was satisfied. Now it was time to start tapering.... What’s a taper? – You’ll have to read next week to find out...
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