The day is here.  Sunday 2 July 2017

 

I'm afraid for me the day didn't start well. I wasn't feeling resilient or strong. I was preoccupied and distracted. I wasn't able to be mindful. I didn't enjoy the pre departure anxieties in the apartment. I struggled with my porridge (I often do). I had a coffee. I couldn't go to the toilet. I forgot my anti inflammatories. 

 

I looked at my phone and read a message from the organisers with a cold weather alert. We checked the weather. 5 degrees. Ouch. Unfortunately I didn't respond to this adequately enough. I took knee warmers which was a kit adjustment but beyond that stayed as I had ridden in previous days. 

 

We pushed off to the start at 5.30am. We arrived in the pen 15-20 mins later. It wasn't too cold at first. The event became overwhelming for me. I was in tears. I was with my friend who knew I was crying. At around 6.15am the temperature seemed to drop. I ate 2 jam sandwiches and sipped some water. Sir Bradley wiggins gave a short speech and the gun was fired at 6.30am. We were off. 

 

It was cold. The air was freezing. We were soon on a climb and I felt over dressed as the sun came out and it was strenuous on cold muscles not warmed up. My breathing was not in Rhythm. I tried to calm it down. I questioned what it was causing me to not calm down. The cyclists were 6 wide across the road. I had my line in the middle. I stuck to it. I overtook some others. I was also overtaken.

 

Over the top of the hill and all my kit was still in tact for the descent. Freezing. After 6 minutes we were on the second climb. I was starting to realise that my breathing wasn't settling, that I was so cold that my fingers had no feeling despite climbing. My body felt clammy. I unzipped my light jacket with difficulty, sucking on my thumb first to get some feeling in it. I was wearing mitts and glove liners.  I was zig zagging a little and not keeping a steady line. I ate some cereal bar. I took a drink with a tab.  A woman spoke to me but I couldn't muster the enthusiasm to respond much. I knew things were not right for me. Over the top of the Pordoi I stopped. I had urgent panic thoughts about not getting to the cut off. I had a quick inappropriately positioned desperate toilet stop, ate half a banana, fastened my jacket and pushed off again. The descent from the Pordoi was bitterly cold. My teeth were chattering. 

 

The third climb was the Sella. My plan was a stop at the top here and an eat. I stopped on the way up and removed my coat pushing it down my front. My rear pockets were full of food in an attempt to be self sufficient and not lose time at feed stops. I pushed down my arm warmers and climbed. It was difficult. Climbing is, but my breathing was still unsettled. At the top I went over the line and stopped. I pulled my jacket on, dropped a heat pad I had stuffed in my rear pocket but I still had one and set off only to realise that I hadn't pulled my arm warmers up. It was cold. I should have stopped. I didn't. I descended. 

 

The Gardena climb was next, more gentle and with a flat middle section. There was a coffee stop on here. I didn't fancy coffee but I should have had one because there was nothing else hot. As it was I didn't stop at all. I took a cup of what I found out to be coke from a volunteer by the road side and threw it in a bin quickly as it was not what I was after. I drafted a group in the middle section but they dropped me when it ramped up again. It felt like I was being relentlessly overtaken. It was demoralising. My head wasn't with me today. It never gave me a chance now I look back. 

 

My mind turned to the decision at the bottom of the next descent. Stop. Or continue.

 

I had been running through this in my head for quite some time today. I wasn't  enjoying the experience. I didn't appreciate the local music and cow bells. I didn't have a sense of joy. 

 

 It started to rain. Icy rain which felt like ice on my face as I descended. This wasn't helping any decision to continue. I had gone. I had given up. I cried. I was disappointed with the circumstances I was in. My decision making was starting to be unreliable. I wasn't confident in myself. I was slumping on to the handlebars and felt as if I may slip off. Shortly after the decision point to continue or stop was another climb. I couldn't face the thought of it. What had gone so wrong for me? My expectation was the long route. My consolation was a disappointing middle distance route if I missed the time cut off or could not manage it. The short route finish was not in my game plan. But suddenly it was a real option. 

 

And then I had to make the decision. And I chose left. The finishers channel. And then in slow motion I started a sprint for the line. I crossed it. My timing chip was cut off. I was offered €10 or a red baseball cap in man size. I took the money. I was given a bottle of lemonade and by 9.57am my Maratona was over.

 

I went home. I had a hot shower, made a hot water bottle, got my duvet and took to the settee. Where I watched the event unfold on TV. Great entertainment but not what it was supposed to be like.

 

The athlete tracker told me where all the rest of the group were and I tracked their progress for the rest of the day....from the settee

 

 

 

 

 

A day off

I called home. And had a good catch up.

We then walked to la Villa along a gorgeous path by the river. This was TeamGlow on a day off picnic. We had a coffee and caught the free shuttle bus to the Maratona village. There were plenty of exhibitors and then suddenly the heavens opened. Wet. Wet. Wet. We looked round the stalls and the Maratona shop and then caught the bus back. 

I ate. And ate. And hydrated. And then went to bed. 

Medium/long route day

Thursday. Three of us set off at around 8am to cycle over campolongo to Arabba. I think I was a bit quicker than yesterday and this is only relevant in terms of trying to work out whether I should wave goodbye to the prospect of cycling the long route. To do the long route, cyclists must reach the cut off at Cernadoi by 11.45 when the road closes and you are directed on to the medium route. We had works out that we had around 1 hour possibly 1 hour 10 minutes to reach the cut off from our apartment. I timed 1hour 2 minutes. Close. 

After the cut off junction we went on along the long route having met two others at the cut off. They had driven there. 

 The hardest climb, the Giau comes next. Tough. Very tough. I found it hard but kept going. I didn't stop. I was grinding my way to the top. It is a 9.9km climb and averages 9.3% gradient. I needed more gears really or longer legs. Or both. A few cyclists came past me. I couldn't speak to them. I grunted. I was pouring with sweat. It wasn't a hot day. Rain and storms were forecast again. We regrouped at the top and went into the cafe. Lovely place. Coffee and cake. And an unexpectedly long stop whilst a storm passed through. As we were getting ready to leave the wind was freezing cold. I was in shorts. There isn't much to me in terms of weight and I suffer from the cold. My body is inefficient at retaining heat. I was ready to ask for a lift home. I decided I needed to get on with it. 

A very wet and freezing cold descent. My teeth were chattering. My hands and fingers were stiffening up. I turned my legs to get some blood in my feet. 

From the bottom we were on to the Falzarego climb when it rained again, and then the sun came out and it was blistering hot. My cold vulnerability past.

 Then on to the Valparola climb before a long descent to La Villa. The Falzarego and the Valparola combine to 11.5km and an average 5.8km. This is where the event starts but it finishes in Corvara where we are staying. So we then had 5km back. With the option of the steepest of the climbs the Mur dl Giat at 19%. We didn't take the option. We stopped for photos and rolled home. A good day's work. And a day off tomorrow. 

Our last two in the group arrived today. We are complete at 9. 

With a pizza in the evening and an early night. 

Sella Ronda day

The Sella Ronda is the short route of the Maratona. We set off to ride this route on Wednesday morning with a forecast of rain and thunderstorms. It was cool. The first climb was immediately as we set off. Passo Campolongo. 5.8km at an average of 6.1%. Absolutely stunning views in the mist - atmospheric. The 7 of us who arrived on Tuesday set off together and re- grouped all the way around. 

In Arabba we bumped into some riders from a group from in and around Manchester who were on a charity event. Coincidentally one of the riders was a woman I had met at my company's networking event only the week before when she was telling me about the jaw dropping ride she was doing over 8 days in the Dolomites. I was immediately in awe of her and felt humble by my training for my 1 day event. As I was being photographed at the top of climb 2, the Pordoi at 9.2km and an average of 8.8% she came past me and we high fived. I wished her well. She didn't stop. She still had a long long way to go. We stopped at a cafe at the top of the pordoi and had some cake and coffee and then off again. Next climb was the Sella 5.5km and average of 7.9% which was absolutely beautiful with a crazy gift shop at the top with hundreds of glass tortoises and squirrels for sale! After a lovely descent we then climbed Gardena 5.8km at an average of 4.3% and descended eventually into Corvara where we were staying.

On the day of the event, we then go past our apartment and on to the Campolongo for the second time before turning left in Arabba and heading off along the medium or the long route. 

Decent test of the starting loop for the event. Such stunning scenery. 

We went to register at the Maratona village and picked up our goody bags. A jersey. A gilet. A bottle. Loads of give aways. A race number. A timing chip. 

The start of the Dolomite week away

Interesting start to day 1. Taxi arrived at 4.30 and after an emotional send off from home I loaded my bike and jumped in next to the driver. He told me about his tummy upset and how he really should be home. 

He then gave me a motivational speech about the maratona. Told me I was already a winner because most of the country was still in bed and I could have chosen that option too. His dad's advice to him was to always try his best. And even if I come last he told me that was good enough. 

The airport was very busy. Post Manchester and London terror attack fall out probably. Police with guns outside the terminal building. 

Security was hectic with barrier lanes pinging and new queues forming without instruction. The automated gates requiring boarding pass scanning was amusing. The big yellow sign was clear. Have your boarding pass ready to scan. The airport host however instructed everyone to put paperwork away including boarding passes. They were NOT needed. But the barriers closed. The lights were red. Then, on production and scan of a boarding pass they turned green and passengers could progress. Then the usual belt and shoe removal. This time cardigans too. Unlimited plastic sealed bags could be used today for liquids and gels. I wonder why these rules keep changing. I was frisked. Best bit of the airport process in my view. 

The flight was good. Rita was flying on the same flight. On arrival in Venice we collected our hire car and then Rita drove for 3 hours or so to Corvara. We checked in. Shopped for dinner. Built our bikes. And cooked pasta bolognese for the arrival of the others. Our apartments in Corvara, a ski resort, were absolutely perfect for the 7 of us. 

The Kit and The Number

The Rubis sponsored TeamGlow kit has arrived and it looks fabulous. Everyone is excited to wear this in the Dolomites in less than .....erm, 2 weeks time!!

And today my bib number has arrived. I am number 1777.


7 is a lucky number I think - I used to live at 177 - and in 1777 there was a huge flood of the Holme Valley after a storm in the area - Holmfirth was affected and three people drowned. What sad news. Holmfirth is a lovely place and the location for my sunny Sunday ride this weekend.


What a bizarre coincidence!

From Workington to Tynemouth C2C - in a day

Coast to Coast in a day 13 May 2017

 

I've been trying to get some company for this ride for around two years. It's a trans pennine dash which some people make into a mini break, others into a holiday. I wanted to do it in a day and couldn't find any takers. I decided that the Maratona group may have some takers in it. Because they have already agreed to do something a little bit...erm...mad.

 

I managed to get one of the women interested. And she asked a friend of hers. So there we were. A tight pack of 3. 

 

We had a support car driven by my partner. The car was to join us at Penrith on Saturday morning. We needed an early start to ride from Workington so we travelled by train from Manchester Piccadilly on Friday after work. There was an incredibly drunk man on the Carlisle to Workington leg of the journey who, after urinating against the wall on the platform 3 metres away from the entrance to the gents, kept us entertained (from a distance) on the train with his relentless attempt to say the word 'palaver' 

 

On arrival into Workington, Karen ( who had made a (not drunk) friend on the train) lead us ( with her new friend who was also on his bike) to our B&B. Shout out to the Waverley Hotel who agreed to get our breakfast for 5.30am. Very accommodating. Two porridges for me, coffee, juice, toast and then at just after 6, in the drizzle we set off in the wrong direction for the obligatory photos by the C2C post before heading out East at around 6.30am.

 

The three of us stayed tight. Which meant getting very wet behind the wheel of whoever was in front. And dirty. And then quite cold. But good progress up Whinlatter pass and into Penrith Morrisons for a meet with the car. Hot flask. Cuddle. Encouragement. Change of gloves and waterproof. And off. 40 miles of the 130 were done but the main climbing was to come.

 

The day got better. The rain stopped after about 4 hours. Katy's pad in her tights had been foaming suds due to the combination of soap (??) and rain. Most amusing. She smelt fresh all the way! We climbed and descended. Then climbed and descended. Then we climbed. And descended. We talked about Rubis quite a bit in a comedy ' if only they really knew, really realised what this is actually like'. There was plenty of singing, mainly out of tune. Which got me thinking. We need a Rubis tune.

We climbed. And descended.

 

We stopped next at the top of a hill and I ate, ate, ate and our final stop was at Consett for water at the car. Then the monotonous cycle into Tynemouth along the cycle path. The first section is lovely by the river in Newcastle and it feels like the work is almost done. But there is still quite a chunk to do. Next it's through housing estates, glass smashed on the road and chicanes to slow us down. Frustrating. I practised my very best local accent saying 'Than kew' to pedestrians who allowed us to pass by on the path.

 

At 6.32pm we arrived at the signpost at Tynemouth. 2 minutes behind my target time. 10 hours and 11 mins moving time for 127.9 miles and 11,509 feet of climbing. 

 

Job done.

 

Niki had brought us Prosecco. I'm on a drink ban but I had some. We did the formula one thing and sprayed it. And I took a medicinal Guinness later too. I slept well. And spent the next day on the beach. A good weekend's work.

 

 

The event in July is 86 miles and 14,000 feet of climbing. The ratio of distance to climbing is significant in the Maratona. It felt hard on the Coast to Coast. But that was just a starter by comparison.