The Scribbler

11 October 2014

Whitley Bay parkrun 11 October 2014

Filed under: Parkrun,run,words — The Scribbler @ 12:51
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“Aren’t we lucky?” said the lady who finished today’s parkrun at Whitley Bay around the same time as me as we walked away from the hubbub of the finish line. And today, under bright blue autumn skies with the sun on my face and the sound of the waves in my ears I did feel very fortunate indeed.

Here in the north east, we’re lucky enough to have a great number of parkruns from Middlesbrough through to Sunderland, Gateshead, Newcastle and right on up to the new route at Druridge Bay. My home run is actually Newcastle, although geographically, Whitley Bay is my closest. It’s close enough to allow me to run there and back, should I fancy a long run and take it steady, which is what I opted to do today.

I gave myself plenty of time to jog along to get there, so I’d had a really good warm up, before I huddled among the gathered runners ready for the start. The sun was in our eyes as we negotiated the first few twists and turns along the course and the number of runners helped make sure I kept my starting pace steady.

Once down onto the lovely flat promenade, we start to spread out and it’s easier to dodge past a few runners, or to be overtaken myself. I’m going easy today, it just feels nice to be out for a run.

At every turn or junction there’s a smiling marshal and a small chorus of thank yous from runners like me who have the breath to utter them.

Off the prom and up the small rise, I pick up my feet and use my arms to power up the incline, then cruise down the yellow stone path and over the bridge, before the second climb back up and round towards the road. I watch my feet over the cracked tarmac along the top path, heading back round towards the skate park and up another little rise to circle around the first lap.

Along the prom for the second time and the fastest runners have already crossed the finish line. How I wish I had their speed! But I’m feeling good, just enjoying being out in the fresh air today, and I start to catch a few runners in front of me. Reeling them in, slowly, one by one takes my mind off my legs which are starting to ache now and as I increase my pace, my breathing gets heavier and louder.

Still here I am again, about to climb the small set of rises and head back round to the road. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a lady running with a bright red buggy. That must be hard work up that hill!

By the time I’ve made it down onto the promenade for the final stretch, she’s caught and overtaken me, inspiring me to put a bit of a spurt on in the last few hundred metres and finish with a sprint.

Out of breath, I collect my token and walk over to get my barcode scanned. Hazel who takes my token from me, says “I like your blog”, which is a really nice surprise and makes me smile.

I’m very lucky that I found running as a means to keep fit back in 2008, and that parkrun has helped me maintain and build on that fitness. I’ve used the regular weekly run as part of my training for races like the Great North Run or the triathlons I do through the summer.

But more importantly, parkrun has introduced me to volunteering and to new friends. I do enjoy running, and am currently chasing down my 100th parkrun, but I really enjoy volunteering too. It’s fun to see parkrun from the other side, to appreciate how it works and to see all the runners from the fastest to the slowest, the old to the young all taking part.

My time today wasn’t my fastest, but parkrun isn’t always about being speedy. It really is for everyone and I think you see that as a volunteer.

So, yes, I do feel lucky to have a free, weekly, timed 5k run as a motivation to get up and out and get moving all year round. Lucky to be able to run along some of the finest north east coastline. And lucky to have the incredible support of the volunteers who make parkrun happen week in, week out all over the UK and beyond.

3 October 2014

Wild foraging in Dumfries and Galloway

A couple of weeks ago, we had a short break in Dumfries and Galloway. The highlight of our trip was a day spent foraging for wild foods around the hedgerows, forest and seashore of Galloway with Mark of Galloway Wild Foods.

Foraged foods from Galloway

Some of the edible items we found on our foraging trip

Mark  was incredibly knowledgable and enthusiastic about all things foraging. The day started with us meeting over tea and cake made from hogweed seeds and tasting something like ginger parkin as Mark asked about how we’d like to plan our day. I think he liked the fact that we were interested in our food too and were keen to learn as much as we could.

We started in the garden, finding sorrel and sea beet, then ventured onto the hedgerows to taste and pick cress with a real mustard bite and discover some of the many uses of common hogweed, as well as spotting sweet cicely and cow parsley. Mark was great at sharing his knowledge and tempting our tastebuds with a range of flavours, all just plucked from the verges. This is a man who will never go hungry!

We took a short drive towards the seashore, donned wellies and ventured out onto the muddy flats where we collected marsh samphire, sea plantain and sea aster, which would fill our seashore sushi later in the day. With Mark’s help, we were soon looking at our surroundings with new eyes.

Down by a rocky foreshore, we found sea radish and three different types of edible seaweed including the incredible pepper dulce, or truffle of the sea. This rather unprepossessing looking brown growth on the side of the rocks has the most amazing truffle-like taste. We only half joked that we’d be licking the rocks back here in the North East. I really hope I find some locally.

Mushrooms in a frying pan

Mark cooked up a feast after our walk in the woods

All through the day, Mark kept bringing out things from his collecting bag for us to try. He’d brought along a selection of syrups, fruit leathers and alcoholic tipples that he’d created from stuff he’d collected, and so we grazed and drank our way through the day.

Our last stop was in a community forest for a mushroom hunt. Obviously something to do with an expert, but actually it’s not so daunting as you think to start identifying some common types. We did find a lot of not very tasty, and ‘really you don’t want to eat that’ specimens, including the fly agaric, which is your classic fairy-tale red and white topped version. But we also found some lovely edible ones, including a couple of chanterelles, the common hedgehog mushroom, and the very pretty tiny purple deceiver mushroom, which Mark cooked up for us at the end of the trip. One of my favourite things was the wood sorrel, which tastes like apple peel and could be found almost everywhere we walked.

It was a brilliant and eye-opening experience. I don’t think I’ll look at a hedgerow in quite the same way again. I’ve been spotting hogweed on my drive into work, and am keen to go exploring on some traffic free areas to see what I can spot. If you’re interested in food for free, or like to mix your own drinks and flavours, then I’d highly recommend it.

13 September 2014

And then I fell off my bike

Filed under: bike — The Scribbler @ 11:18
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In the last few weeks of training for the Great North Run, I’d started to think of what I’d do next. I was looking forward to getting out on my bike again, and to changing my endurance focus to get lean and strong with more of an emphasis on weight training and short, high energy bursts.

I gave myself a day off on Monday after the race. Then on Tuesday I had the option of going for a swim or a bike ride after work. It was glorious, sunny, no wind to speak of, and so Gary and I set off along the coast after work.

We took the trail path of the Waggonways and emerged near Seaton Delaval Hall. I’d been roaring along, feeling more confident on the crosstrail, getting used to bumping over slightly rougher ground. But as we turned onto the road, I tried to bounce up a kerb onto the cycle path, misjudged the angle quite severely and came crashing down on my right hand side.

I managed to bounce my head (in a helmet) off a wall and scraped my knee, shoulder and hip. I felt like a real fool, but didn’t seem to have done too much damage, so after a quick clean up with a squirt of water from my bottle and we cycled back at a slightly more temperate pace.

My arm hurt a bit at the wrist and elbow, but I reflected that I’d been lucky not to break it, as I’d obviously put it down to cushion my fall, and I figured that it would ease up, but that getting in a shower with a bit of road rash would really sting.

When I woke up in the next day, and struggled to brush my teeth, wash my face and brush my hair with my right hand, I figured I’d done a bit more damage and was advised to get it checked out.

So, on Wednesday morning I took myself to the local minor injuries unit. I love our NHS. I just pitch up, give some details, go through a consultation, X-ray and review and am referred back to the fracture clinic. I’m in and out in about an hour, treated considerately and courteously by all the staff and not a worry about paying for it or claiming on health insurance.

I know. It’s not perfect and maybe if I had something more serious, or longer term or expensive to treat I’d have a different view. But really it was a good reminder of something special that we can take for granted.

The X-ray had flagged up a crack in the bone, although the guy who talked me through it admitted he couldn’t see it on the screen. He was most sympathetic and understanding, and sent me on my way with a simple sling for comfort, some pain killers and an appointment at the fracture clinic.

By now I’m nursing my right arm in the crook of my left, and although I’m counting my blessings that the damage is small and the bone hasn’t moved, I feel like a right muppet and start thinking of all the plans I’ll have to change. Like cycling in Scotland next week…

Through the day, I know I’ve done the right thing getting it checked out, as it becomes quite painful and I resort to taking an ibuprofen, then a co-codamol in the evening, hoping it will help me have a pain free sleep. I also get some lovely messages from my friends on Fetch.

I muddle through things left handed, and have a brief moment of getting upset when I realise that, although I can move my fingers quite well, it hurts too much to hold a pen and write. But I tell myself this is temporary and shut up any complaints when I see the coverage of the Invictus Games opening ceremony. Whatever small inconvenience this causes, whatever treats I’ll miss, this will pass.

On Thursday, at the fracture clinic, I have better news. The registrar takes another look at the X-rays, gets me to move my arm around and declares it isn’t cracked after all. He zooms in on the X-ray and spots the query fracture – a slight grey line that’s only visible on one view and not on the others, and says that could just be a feature of the bone.

The damage is soft tissue only, so he advises me to ditch the sling and get it moving and refers me for a physio consultation. I fear a long wait, but I’m next in the queue. The physio measures my range of movement. I can’t fully straighten or lock out my arm or flex it so that my right hand touches my shoulder, but she says it’s not horrendous and refers me for further physio at my local hospital and gives me a series of exercises to do in the meantime.

Today, I’m sporting a cracking bruise, but am supremely thankful for a lucky escape. It might curtail my usual training for a week or two, but it could have been much longer.

7 September 2014

Great North Run 2014

Start at the beginning. There’s a lot to tell. So get yourself a cuppa… And if you fancy a prologue, skip over to Running Up Top Down Under for my race preview. But please come back…

I was really relaxed about this race. Good night’s sleep, no worries getting ready or getting there, just nice and calm and easy. I’ve no expectations that I’m going to run anything like PB pace, so it’s just a case of go out and enjoy it.

Fetchies at the start of the Great North Run

Fetchies at the start of the Great North Run

For the first time ever, I make it to the Fetch photo. And for the first time for this race, I’m wearing my Fetch T-shirt. I have a nice chat with Paul, before assorted Fetchies assemble. A smaller gathering than previous years, but nice to have company all the same.

We went our separate ways, me heading for a wander back over the media bridge and a loo stop, then making my way to the starting pens. The sun was beating down at this point, and it felt far hotter than had been forecast.

Time seemed to have speeded up and as I walked back from the start towards the white zone, I heard the dying strains of Abide with Me. I’d missed the moment of reflection – something I really like about this race. No matter. I had my own little moment of thoughtfulness just before the start, when I recited the names of runners and others who are no longer with us and dedicated my race to them.

Walking back, it was great to see the stars of the race. Not the elite athletes who I didn’t catch a glimpse of, but the very special people who have run every single Great North Run. I had a quick chat with a couple of them, including Ann, one of the few women to have run all 34, dressed as she usually is as Minnie Mouse. What a lovely, lovely lady.

The pens seemed particularly well packed this year, as I joined in the warm up. Normally, by this time I’m starting to get excited and nervous, but I was still quite low key. I chatted to a few runners nearby as the races got underway, but wasn’t near enough to see any of the action on the screens. We gave Mo a massive cheer though!

And then we were off. Well walking forward towards the start at any case. I reckon it took 15 minutes to get to the line and, I almost missed it! I seem to remember it being more prominent in previous races, but there was the mat, so I hit the Garmin start button and began to run.

The plan was to go steady – 10 min miling for as long as I could manage. I had high hopes of sustaining that kind of pace for at least 8 miles after trying it out last weekend, and maybe going a little further if I could. I felt nice, bouncy, light of heart, no pressure on. And despite the thousands of runners around me, in my own little running bubble.

I ran to the right hand side, down under the motorway passes and started an oggy, oggy, oggy. I knew the first mile had been a bit quick, but figured I’d settle once I was over the bridge. As it approached, I realised, I was on the wrong side to spot my top running buddy Jo Shewry  who had said she would be there. I managed to squeeze across to the left and give the whole family sweaty, smiley hugs.

I kept getting shouts on the bridge – not sure if they were people I knew, or just enthusiastic race vest readers, but it was brilliant. One guy turned round and said “You’re popular!”
“Welcome to my city,” I replied with a massive smile. I love running across the Tyne Bridge and that was a moment for the scrapbook.

The band on the roundabout were playing ‘Blaydon Races’ and I was very happy, beginning to settle and find the right pace. But blimey, it was hot. And this course, on tarmac and concrete roads, is unrelenting. There is no shade.

I grabbed water at 3 miles and had my first jelly baby. I was still very much in my running bubble, just following the lines in the centre of the road, managing, as I always seem to do at this race, to find space and not be too jostled or held up. But people were walking. They started walking really early on. People who looked like good runners, walking the inclines, or just looking to get some respite from the sun.

At 5 miles I wasn’t feeling so bouncy. I hadn’t paid much attention to my watch, but I knew my pace had dropped. At 5 miles, there’s still a long way to go. And I knew then that I didn’t have the desire, or the fire in my belly to push hard. Given my run training and race times this year, I was never going to be in with a shout of matching my best, and suddenly any kind of time target didn’t seem to matter.

I didn’t collapse or despair or beat myself up. I just said ‘so what?’ And decided to go easy on myself by running at whatever pace my legs felt like. But I would run. I wouldn’t walk.

I started breaking the rest of the race down into chunks – 6 miles and another jelly baby, halfway and then another water station.

After a second good gulp of water I did pick up a little, felt happier in myself, and realised that I needed to come out of my bubble and start drawing support from the crowds.

There were some great kids out on the course, shouting things like “You’ve done really well to get this far”, or pointing out all the costumes and fancy dress. “Look daddy, a boy in a dress…!”

Me and Tanni Grey Thompson

I get my water bottle from 16 time Olympic Champion Tanni Grey Thompson

My breathing was easy, too comfortable for a race really, but I just didn’t have the desire to work any harder and at times my hips were giving me warning twinges, telling me to go easy. The briefest bit of cloud cover, or the shadows cast on the ground from motorway barriers was a welcome respite from the sun.

I sort of lost track of where I was on the route as I was just in ‘ keep moving and get to the finish mode’. And I actually thought I’d missed a water station at mile 8, but actually it’s mid way between 8 and 9. I really wanted to hit this station, even though I’d taken on water at 6 miles, because I knew this is where Tanni Grey Thompson would be.

Tanni Grey Thompson – 16 times an Olympic medallist, eight times winner of the Great North Run and one of the UK’s best known disabled athletes – hands out bottles of water at the station between 8 and 9 miles on the Great North Run.

She’s handed me my water 4 times now. The first was totally unexpected, but in subsequent year, I’ve made a point of looking out for her. And there she was again.

Not caring about my time, and running with my phone in my Tune Belt arm band, I stopped for a selfie and a chat. Tanni was lovely, gave me a big smile and kept talking and handing out bottles as she said it was hellishly hot and even the elites had looked like they were suffering. I said thank you, told her it meant a lot to me and I’d tweet the picture. Best Great North Run picture ever!

I really picked up after that. Getting to 8 miles had been a bit of a struggle, but now, even with 5 still to go, I felt more confident that I could manage it without completely breaking myself. 5 miles is still a long way, especially when you know that your race plan is out the window, but I lifted my head and tried to pull support from the crowds.

Heading into South Shields, I kept my eyes out for the next cheering point manned by a couple of Elvet Striders.  I’d been told it would be where it would e, but my brain couldn’t keep track of the course and I wondered if I’d spot them.  No fear of that when there’s a huge banner over the road sign! I ran over to the left hand side of the road, waving and shouting and got a high 5 from Dave.

That took me to 10 miles. And at 10 there’s just a parkrun to go. It was going to take me a while, but I was going to run every step of the way.  My mood was positive, even if my pace was, by my standards, barely a shuffle.

People all around me were walking now. And I was running so slowly it would take me a few paces to overtake them, but I just kept on moving. I tried not to look too far ahead, just focusing on being in the moment and moving forward.

Me on the last mile of the Great North Run 2014

Smiling on the last mile

And then I saw the sea and my heart lifted again. It’s a nasty little sharp downhill before the left turn onto the coast road, but I was smiling as I ran down it and headed over to the right hand side, ready to spot my supporters.

Loads of shouts and high fives as I came into the last mile and a bit. I know this is a long road and I was in no shape to push it, so I just kept it steady and smiled and gave a thumbs up to everyone who yelled my name.

I was scanning the crowds for Gary, knowing I was already beyond the time I’d said he could expect me, but hoping he’d hold on a little longer. I heard him shout, saw the camera and waved and smiled. By this point, I was running so slowly, he was able to run behind the crowds and catch me again along the last mile.

800m to go and in the past, I’ve started to up a gear here, but not today, there’s not a lot left in my legs and I really don’t care what time I finish in. Even at 200m, I only rustle up a slight knee lift and then give it a sort of pathetic sprint over the grass and Mobot over the line. I stop my watch at 2:30:50 – my slowest ever time at this race by a good 20 minutes.

But I’ve made it, and I’m okay, and I get a great big Strider shout from Angie, collecting finisher’s chips before making my way through the goody bag pick up and to the collection point where Gary is waiting.

Refuelled, rehydrated on trying to make sense of my experience by writing this blog, here are my reflections on this year’s race:

I’m pleased I kept my head and didn’t let my ambition to be better beat me today. I don’t really give myself a great shot at half marathons anyway – only entering this one and not really doing the consistent running mileage throughout the year.

Will I go further? I said I’d ask myself the question at the end again this year, but I knew before the start, that the answer was no, not next year, and not in future unless I burn with the desire to do it, like I did for my first Great North Runs. For now, I’d rather get lean and strong and faster over shorter distances again. And next year I want to make the most of my potential in triathlon and get a decent standard distance done.

But I don’t think I’m done with this race just yet. I’d like to enjoy it again, and not necessarily try and race it. I’d like to come back and maybe help someone else enjoy it too.

Thanks to Gary for supporting me and making it so easy for me to get to and from this race, and for buying me fish and chips. Thanks to Ian Turrell for giving me the training plans, fitness and encouragement to take on these challenges. Thanks to all the supporters, those who know me and those to whom I was just a name on a shirt. And special thanks to Tanni for being my water carrier again. Moments like that make this a very special run.

Stats (the splits are good for a laugh)
13.1 miles 2:30:50

1. 9:06
2. 10:31 (hugged my buddies on the Tyne Bridge)
3. 09:54
4. 10:56
5. 11:25
6. 11:39
7. 11:06
8. 11:41
9. 13:25 (Tanni Grey Thompson water stop)
10. 11:54
11. 12:15
12. 12:48
13. 11:47

31 August 2014

Tynedale 10 mile ‘Jelly Tea’ road race 2014

The traditional warm-up race for the Great North Run put on by Tyndale Harriers, is a well organised run along quiet and closed roads between the outskirts of Hexham and Ovingham in the Tyne Valley. It gets its nickname from the excellent sandwich and jelly served at Ovingham School at the end – a brilliant incentive and reward after a long run.

I was a bit nervous. Even though I had a plan to run at a sensible pace and use it as a test for next week, there’s something about it being a race. I was further unsettled by a couple of changes to the usual instructions for parking due to an out of action bridge and realised I’d been dreaming about getting lost and turning up late to the race.

In reality, I found the parking spot in plenty of time to catch the first of the transport buses to Hexham. It was sunny and warm, so I left my extra layers in the car, but took my sunglasses and a pocket full of jellybabies to the start. Once I’d collected my number and chip from the sports centre, there was a good deal of waiting around before the start of the race.

I saw a few people I know from parkrun, but far fewer than in previous years. With so many great local races on at this time of year, we tend to spread out a bit. I wasn’t really in a very talkative mood. I find other runner’s nervousness infectious and wanted to just keep myself right in my own head today.

It’s a good walk to the start of the race, on the edge of a slightly less than picturesque industrial estate. But once off and along the country roads it soon opens up into a really pleasant course.

It felt like I was barely among the running pack as the colourful club shirts stretched away into the distance and the crowd soon thinned out. My goal was to go steady, see if I could feel 10 min miles, just using my watch to check now and again, but not being a slave to it.

I ran the first couple of miles near to a group of Saltwell Harriers girls. They kept me amused with their chatter as I ran mostly just in front of them, or sometimes just behind a leading pair, one of whom was called Helen. We were near the back of the pack, but I make it a rule never to look back in a race, and it was clear from their chat that they were targeting 10 min miles too.

The pace felt nice, just right actually, not too slow, just steady and easy on the breathing. I did feel like I was holding back, but knew I’d have to do that to keep going strong. The sun had come out hot, so we took what shade we could by the road sides and I got asked a couple of questions about my shirt after putting ‘The Scribbler’ on the back.

As we came round into Corbridge, we were a bit held up by a combine harvesting machine in the road. Even running alongside it on the pavements felt narrow. Helen ran beside me for a while at this point and I learned she was just coming back after a a long injury lay off and using the run as a test to see if she was up to doing the Great North Run. I thought she was a strong runner. As we left the village, she dropped back to run with the others in her group, and I kept expecting them to come past me, but they never did again.

There’s a long slow climb at about four miles, but at this point I was feeling strong. I just kept my legs turning over at the same pace, but took smaller steps and focused on keeping my heart rate and breathing nice and even, not powering through and burning myself out. I suspected my pace target would have dropped a bit, but that was okay.

There were some good patches of shade and trees around this section and a welcome water station between 4 and 5 miles. I dropped my first bottle, but managed to grab a second and keep moving, drinking on the run, practising for next week.

Now I was running on my own, slightly aware of the group behind me, but feeling like I’d pulled away from them. Over the next mile or so I managed to reel in the two other runners in immediate sight – a guy and a girl in a Tyne Bridge Harriers vest.

One of my running friends recently paid me a compliment about being a ‘thinking runner’. That’s very true, but sometimes it’s been to my detriment, in that I think too much, or endlessly ponder the ‘what ifs’. Some of my best runs have been when I’ve stopped consciously thinking and just focused on the immediate now, a bit like meditation I guess.

I was trying to do that today. Keeping it simple, having a plan of 10 minute miles and jelly babies at 3, 6 and 9 miles. When I could feel my mind wandering, I just kept saying to myself, ‘keep going like this’. I had confidence in my pace, it felt nice and I was relaxed, so ‘keep going like this’.

As the watch clicked over from mile 5 to mile 6, I stole a glance at my pace and saw 10:01. Lovely, bang on target. As I saw the 7 mile marker, I thought to myself ‘just a parkrun to go’ and dug in up a little rise.

It was hot now, and the hedge-lined lanes alongside the fields didn’t offer much shade. My thoughts had become a bit knotty, my breathing heavy and the effort to keep the same pace, all the more harder.

I started to break down the rest of the race, took another jelly baby and told myself, ‘water at mile 8, jelly baby at 9, and then you’re in the last mile.’ I thought I’d got myself out of a tricky spot, but later my splits will show I had started to lose pace. A cheery and unexpected shout from a running friend helped lift my spirits around this point too.

But, yes, I really was starting to feel it and at mile 8, I let my mental drive go and gave myself permission to slack off if it meant I just kept moving. My feet were really hot and I was no longer running with good form. I tried a couple of times to move more onto the forefoot, but couldn’t sustain it, so drifted back to a flat shuffle. ‘Just this’, I told myself, ‘just keep going like this’ – keep it simple, accept the moment and just keep moving forward.

Up ahead there was a girl with a blonde pony tail walking. Slowly, slowly, I reeled her in, then gave her an encouraging shout as I passed. I was really pleased when she started running again, even though she soon outpaced me. Sometimes we all need a little boost and she was obviously a better runner than me, maybe battling her own mental demons or the heat.

Into mile 9 and it’s almost done. Apart from the hill. Yeah, it’s a killer at this stage of a 10 miler and although I remembered it was to come, I couldn’t exactly remember where it was. As I peeled up out of a tree covered section, it became unmistakable.

It really was a shuffle. The teensiest, tiniest steps that were barely any faster than walking, but I was determined I was going to run every step, even if it was horribly slowly. The marshals near the top were brilliant, no doubt having seen many pained faces that day. I managed to get to the top without blowing up and then I knew it was as good as over.

Just a long, slightly twisting road to the finish. Tantalising in that you couldn’t quite see where the end would be, although I could sense it was soon as runners started to appear running back up the road from the finish. With encouragement all round, I tried to pick up my feet again and push on for the last little bit. One guy said, just 1/4 mile to go, and I believed him, and he was right.

But still you can’t see the finish as it’s round a right turn. But as I approached, a girl appeared from nowhere at my shoulder and overtook me. I was done, I just wanted to finish. And then, no, I wasn’t having it. Spotting a narrow path along the verge that I thought I remembered as being within sprint distance of the finish, I put the pedal down. She came with me for a bit, pushing on, but I found another gear and saw the inflatable finish line and went for it. Thank you, whoever you were for getting a sprint finish out of me today. That really wasn’t on the cards.

I crossed the line in 1h47 by my watch (official time to follow). Not quite 10 min mile pace all the way round, but I was very happy with my run. I’d kept my head, run to plan, not lost myself in ‘what ifs’ or stressed too much about pacing. I’d tested out my race kit and water and fuelling and it all went pretty well.

I shake my head at the thought that I ran that course in under 1h30 3 years ago. How well was I running then! I don’t think I ever realised. But back then I was mainly running and had much more specific training and mileage in my locker.

Today, I’m feeling positive, mentally and physically strong and as ready as I can be to give the Great North Run a good shot next weekend. But advice and encouragement is always welcome.

Splits and stuff:
10 miles 1:47:00
1. 10:02
2. 10:01
3. 10:13
4. 10:52
5. 10:34
6. 10:02
7. 10:08
8. 11:04
9. 11:40
10. 11:54

24 August 2014

Pacing myself on a last long run before race day

Filed under: Great North Run,run,training — The Scribbler @ 18:08
Tags: , ,

Aside from last weekend’s tri, I’ve been focusing more on running recently, building up my long runs week my week to get ready for the Great North Run.

I didn’t run it last year, preferring to focus on triathlons instead. And for most of the summer, I didn’t miss those long runs at all. But as the event approached and I heard friends talking about doing it, and reports on the local news, and the excitement building, I did start to feel a bit left out. And when I stood on the Tyne Bridge, just after the first mile to see the elites and then everyone else come through, I did feel like there was a huge party going on, and I hadn’t replied to the invitation.

So, yes, I know, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. It’s expensive, crowded and not pretty. But it really was my first big challenge. It’s in my home-town and yes, it means something to me. So this year, I’m back in.

I’ve found it quite hard to increase the running mileage, and often struggled to fit in the longer midweek runs, which for me, mean waking early and getting the miles in before work.

This week  I’ve made an effort to get all the weekday runs in too. I ran 12k (7.4 miles) before breakfast on Wednesday and then another 14k (8.8 miles) on Friday, and today, I managed 12 miles – which I’m very happy with.

I opted for a route I haven’t run in years. It takes in the coast, then heads inland along trails through Holywell Dene, to emerge on a long straight stretch of a former coal waggon way, before emerging out on the coast again.

Today there was no pace, just easy, easy. This was all about time on my feet after a week of long runs. I listened to music again for the first two and last two miles along the tarmac I have run so many many times before. Then I let my ears free in the woods and trails, greeting every runner and walker I passed on my way.

My feet felt tight at first, with a worrying pull in my right calf that I hoped would ease as my muscles warmed up. Easy, easy, easy I kept telling myself. You have a long way to run today. But I kept thinking of my friend Susan Lynch, doing Ironman Copenhagen today. I’m sure she’d have loved  only to have to run 12 miles!
The sun shone and I was glad of the sunglasses, that later sat atop my head as I drifted in and out of the trees’ shadows and sun drops. Some of the paths needed my full attention to keep sure footing as they undulated up and down, with a couple of styles and gates forcing changes of rhythm at regular intervals. I ran all but the last climb out of the Dene, which came at about 7 miles.

I’d made the switch to miles for distance and pace on my watch, and taken jelly babies to give me a sugar boost. I  tried to anticipate my usual dips in mood, at around 3, 6, 9 and 11 miles and they seemed to work very well.

When I hit the coast again just short of 9 miles, I knew I’d calculated the route distance well. At 10 miles, I was in unknown territory, at my furthest distance since 2012, but I felt good. Yes, my legs were aching, but my head was in a good place, and I was ready to finish a good week’s running. I pushed on a little beyond the 12 miles to reach my favourite stretching spot by a shelter overlooking the beach, and congratulated myself on having achieved what I’d set out to do.

I do still have that focus and determination that marked my early runs if I choose to apply it. And I’ve added to that both my own experiences and the collective wisdom of my running friends. Right now, I feel much readier and more confident than I expected to be.

Of course, lots could happen in the next couple of weeks. And you never really know until race day how you’re going to feel, how the weather will affect you. But I’m starting to get a bit excited, and a bit hopeful that I could have a decent race after all.

21 August 2014

Kit review – Tune Belt

Filed under: kit review,run,training — The Scribbler @ 21:29
Tags: , , , , ,

In the early days of starting running, I often used to listen to music. It helped block out the sound of my own heavy breathing as much as anything. But as I got more experienced, more confident, and started taking part in races, I stopped relying on it as a crutch to get me through a run.

Tune Belt

The Tune Belt I tested out on my run

These days, I very rarely choose to take music with me. But I’ve been having a hard time recently, increasing the mileage as I prepare for the Great North Run. As my long weekend runs get longer, I’ve reminded myself that 13.1 miles is a long way. And I’ve struggled to find both the time and motivation to fit in the midweek runs of 10k and more that are on my training plan.

So, time to shake things up a bit. And this week I received a Tune Belt to test out. The Tune Belt is basically an arm band with a pocket for your mobile phone. It has a plastic cover, so you can still see the screen and holes at the bottom where you attach your headphones.

It felt very comfortable as I adjusted the velcro strap to fit my arm. The material is soft but strong, like a very flexible neoprene. With an old running playlist lined up and my headphones in, I hit the road for an early morning run, with a target of 12k before breakfast.

Having some get-up-and-go music in my ears certainly encouraged me to head off at a good pace. And with the weather being pleasantly cool and still, I was enjoying one of my usual routes along the coast.

A couple of miles in, I decided the playlist really was a bit cheesy and I’d prefer to run without it.  I was able to stop the music by using my phone’s touch screen through the plastic cover and found I could tuck the headphones away under a little flap beneath the Tune Belt logo at the side of the pocket.

I carried enjoying a good run on towards the lighthouse, just taking in the still morning and listening to the sound of the waves. As I turned back, the early morning light was perfect for me to take a snap of the famous Spanish City Dome in Whitley Bay, where I took part in a triathlon last weekend.

I had to take the phone out of its pocket for this, but it was a great chance to capture my lovely running scenery.  I only paused for a few seconds – enough to take the picture and choose some classic Bowie as my get me home playlist.

Spanish City, Whitley Bay

Early morning at Spanish City, Whitley Bay

“We are the goon squad, and we’re coming to town…”

I bounced along  managing 12k or just short of 7.5 miles relatively comfortably before heading home for a shower, breakfast and then the rest of my day.

I like the Tune Belt. It’s neat, simple and does its job. It was very comfortable to wear. I always felt like my phone was secure in its pocket and didn’t bounce around at all, so there was no rubbing or chafing on my arm. In fact, when I didn’t have my headphones in, I could almost forget it was there.

Of course, you don’t have to use your phone to listen to music when you’re on the go. But if you want to carry a phone when you’re training, running or cycling, this could be a good way of freeing up a pocket and giving you easy access to it if you need it. Although it has a plastic cover, it’s not designed to be waterproof, so you’d be taking a risk in a heavy downpour, but otherwise it would seem to do a good job.

I was sent a Tune Belt as an accessory for my Apple iPhone 5 to test out how it would benefit my training. You can find out more here: http://www.three.co.uk/Discover/Devices/Apple/iPhone_5s

17 August 2014

Spanish City Triathlon

This is a brand new event for 2014, brought to us by Total Racing International, the same team behind the popular Castles triathlon that I did last year. Being as it’s just down the road from me, and would be the shortest distance I’ve ever travelled to take part in a triathlon, I signed up early and got number  18.

Spanish City, for those of you who don’t know, is a now abandoned amusement park in Whitley Bay, famous for its building with a white dome, which still stands. It’s mentioned in the Dire Straits Song ‘Tunnel of Love’.  And the lyrics “Girl it looks so pretty to me / Like it always did / Like the Spanish City to me / When we were kids, ” featured on the back of the race T-shirt.

Triathletes enter the water

Warm up before the swim start. Photo by Claire Wynarczyk

I was a little nervous about it being a sea swim. Especially as the weather forecast was full of wind warnings. Now, I don’t mind swimming in the sea, but once it gets a little choppy, I get a bit nervous. And this year I’ve barely managed any sea swimming at all.

The original swim route had been to swim along beside the shore, entering onto the beach near it’s northerly point and exiting at the end beside a ramp and the beach cafe. But it was changed to being an out, along and back from near the ramp.

Having set up in transition, and got my wet suit on, I picked my way gingerly over the rough tarmac down to the beach. The water was clear and calm, barely a ripple of a wave. That was good. The two marker buoys didn’t look that far away. Excellent. I could do this.

I really welcomed the chance to get into the water before the race started. It was alarmingly cold. Much more so than when I’d last been in off Tynemouth Longsands on Tuesday evening. But I did my usual gasp and floated around, getting used to it. Then stuck my head under and blew bubbles and even swam a few strokes to make sure I was warmed up and ready.

Swim start at Spanish City triathlon

The swim start at the spanish City triathlon. Photo by Claire Wynarczyk

We were all called out before the mass beach start. I positioned myself off to the side and at the back, with my main aim being to keep out of the worst of the thrash as we got underway. It was a good move and worked well, as I only got a couple of arms or legs brushing against me.

I started swimming well. The water was clear, although I couldn’t see much beyond the bubbles churned up by 200 other swimmers hitting the sea at the same time. I kept it nice and relaxed and just held my nerve in the dash to the first buoy.

Then something went in my head. I really don’t know what it was. But something about swimming away from land, being out of my depth and feeling the sea start to grow choppy and I felt my chest grow tight and my breathing grow shallow.

I took a moment, swam heads up breast stroke to gather myself and pushed on. As I approached the first buoy, it seemed like the wind had picked up a little, sending little wavelets out over the water and it was spattering up as though rain was falling. I swam a little more breast stroke to get round the buoy.

And then at the turn the chop grew worse, with it hitting the side of my face as the second buoy looked as far away as the first. I tried to break back into front crawl, but I’d lost my rhythm and my confidence. All I could hear was my own shallow breathing echoing back in my ears.

I’d been glad of my neoprene swim cap to keep out the worst of the cold, but covering my ears it blocked out the sound of everything else except my own, panicky sounding breathing.   I kept trying to bring it under control, to lower my heart rate by taking some deep breaths, swimming breast stroke and then getting back into front crawl, but mentally I’d lost it.

And despite the fact that my feeble heads-up breast stroke meant I was getting more splashed in the face by the waves and the chop and when I did swim front crawl I moved quickly and easily through the water, I just couldn’t get it to stick.

I really wish I could get a grip on this mental aspect of swimming. So often in races, something happens and I get a rush of adrenaline and it all goes a bit awry. Today, I should have stopped, given myself a time out, floated on my back and then got on with it. But I just kept on struggling onwards, feeling like the last stretch back to shore was more about floating and surviving than swimming with any kind of style.

The white dome approached at last, and in a desperate effort to save some pride and determined not to be last out of the water with the rest of the breast stroking stragglers, I did manage a spot of decent swimming by counting my strokes and yelling at myself to do another 6 and then another.

I stumbled up among the pebbles and over the sand, totally out of breath and just pleased to have reached dry land. I could not even force myself to run up the long ramp back towards the transition area at first, my feet protesting at the rough ground and my lungs just bursting for air. I  only broke into a trot once I got to the grassy section at the top and started to think about the bike.

With hardly any bikes left in transition, mine was easy to spot as I wriggled out of my wetsuit. Less obvious was my helmet, which wasn’t where I’d left it on top of my shoes. It had blown or been kicked away along on the other side of the rack and I had to duck under and run along to retrieve it. I managed to find all the rest of my kit, including my number belt and headed out to hit the bike course.

Having had such a relatively poor swim, I took a little time to settle into the cycle, focusing on composing myself, getting my breathing back into some kind of order and taking a drink to was the salt water taste from my mouth. By now the sun was out and although it was breezy, I welcomed it as a chance to dry out after the swim.

The bike course was relatively straightforward. After a well marshaled right turn onto the main road it was straight up along the coast towards St Mary’s Lighthouse, then a left turn by the caravan park and up towards Seaton Sluice.

The wind was gusting from inland to offshore, so it was mostly a cross wind, apart from that slight uphill drag by the caravan park. The route is very familiar to me and one I do quite often. I was quickly through lap one and round again, feeling stronger and more settled, so putting more effort in on this lap.

I managed to overtake a couple of people on the slight gradients heading away from transition and again moving along back up the slight drag towards Seaton Delaval Arms. But I was overtaken by many more who came screaming through with aero bars and pointy helmets at the front of the field.

At times I felt the cross wind gust and push the bike sideways and I had to pedal against it even going downhill. But I always felt in control and actually enjoyed the bike course.

Back round to the roundabout near the Rendezvous cafe for the second time and this time it was straight on to transition. I jumped off the bike early at the turn, halting a runner who wasn’t part of the race and was probably wondering where all these people were coming from.

Off the bike and even running into transition, my legs felt wobbly. I managed a fairly quick stop, though I opted to put socks on, as my feet had felt chilly on the bike, so that added a little to my time.

Finally onto the run and I did wonder whose legs I’d picked up in transition as mine felt Bambi-like beneath me. But I knew that feeling would pass. More worrying was the fact that I couldn’t actually feel my feet.

As sensation returned, it felt like I was running on sandpaper as pins and needles burned the whole sole of each foot. I wriggled my toes trying to encourage the blood to flow faster and it was agony. But I’ve been here before and the only way is to keep moving, keep the muscles moving and get that warmth back into my poor feet. I used my arms to push on, thought about my leg muscles carrying me forward, kept my head up and kept moving, helped by shouts of encouragement from the marshals, including regular parkrun volunteer Claire Wynarczyk.

The route took in the coastal paths along the sea front and twisted and turned through some of the Whitley Bay parkrun route, although we ran it in the opposite direction, before dropping down onto the lovely wide promenade along the seafront and past the Rendezvous Cafe.

The ups and downs and turns made me wince as I put more pressure on my feet. But slowly, slowly I started to get the sensation back in them, and by the time I reached the seafront , I’d finally banished the pins and needles. Just in time for the steps…

Oh yes. The course designers took us back up from the promenade towards the War memorial via two flights of steps. A loud and enthusiastic bunch of supporters stood at the turn and encouraged us up. And it was back round for lap two.

By now I was feeling much more like my usual running self, so I pushed on and made an effort to pick up my feet more, now that I could feel them.  I started chasing a guy who had powered past me on the steps and we played cat and mouse, taking and then re-overtaking each other along the route. I finally made my last move to overtake him as we came back round to the promenade for the second time, feeling all the exhilaration that I normally get when sprinting this section on parkrun.

Up the steps again and this time a left turn towards the finish on the newly created plaza area in front of the Spanish City dome. I used the acceleration of the down ramp to power me up the other side and onto something like a sprint, so at least I finished strongly.

Chip removed and water thrust into my had, I sat on the steps to get my breath back and congratulated the guy who came through just behind me, thanking him for playing a key part in keeping me pushing onwards in the later part of the race.

I was just glad to have finished. To have completed my last tri of the season. And a little bit sad that this was my last multi-sport event of the year. Because for all that I find it tough, and for all that I’m frustrated that I’ve not really improved in my tris this year, I do enjoy them.

I know for many people this was their first triathlon, and for others it was their first open water, or sea swim. It is a big challenge and I hope you coped with it better than I did. The sea wasn’t really that choppy and the wind, although challenging, could have made it even more difficult. So I hoped you enjoyed it.

And if you’re reading this, thinking ‘That sounds horrible, why would you want to do that’, it really wasn’t. I finished with a big grin and a huge sense of achievement. It’s true I’ve done tris where I’ve been more relaxed, in control and raced harder. But I’ve never done one I haven’t enjoyed.

So yes, triathlon is a challenge. But it’s still a buzz and a thrill. And as I work out how I deal with all the challenges they throw at me, both mental and physical, I know they’ll help me be stronger, faster and more able to deal with anything. So I’ll keep on tri-ing.

My results:

Swim: 26:41
Bike: 49:42
Run: 30:57

Race results

Race photos by Derek Grant

22 July 2014

Because a bike’s not just a bike

Filed under: bike — The Scribbler @ 18:06
Tags: , , ,

When I first got my shiny new road bike, I posted a picture of it with the caption ‘ Say hello to my new adventure machine’. Because that’s what it is.

Me and my friends about to head off on a bike ride

Cycles at the ready

A bike is a means to freedom and fitness. A cheap form of transport; a means to get a job; an environmentally aware decision.

A bike means rides out to the coast for fish and chips and ice cream. Rides through muddy puddles and ‘Would you look at the state of you!’

A bike is sunny days messing about with friends. Discovering tea shops and garden centres and where you can get really good home-made cake and a refill for your bottles or Camelbacks.

A bike is finally making it to the top of that hill without stopping and free-wheeling down the other side. Or taking a moment to admire the view, when all you can see is mist.

A bike is praying that your skin really is waterproof and that your toes won’t fall off. Or hoping that those weird looking tan lines will eventually join up.

It’s bruises, scrapes and chafing and a permanent chain tattoo on your calf. It’s saddle sores and Sudocrem and realising just how many layers you have to take off to go for a pee.

It’s exploring the countryside or speeding through a city. It’s about finding places you never knew existed. Rediscovering the intimate knowledge you had as a child of your local area with all its secret pathways and shortcuts.

It’s tech talk of carbon, cassettes and chain rings and ‘mine’s better than yours’. It’s le Grand Depart, le maillot jaune et, chapeau to you! It’s about being King of the Road or Queen of the Mountains, imagining you’re on the Champs Elysees or the Queen K Highway.

Chrissie Wellington, four times Ironman World Champion has had her bike stolen. The one she won her 2011 championship on. The one she calls Phoenix, because they rose together.

I’m sure Chrissie could have any bike she wanted – faster, lighter, more expensive, higher spec. But if your bike isn’t there any more, it’s not just a piece of metal that’s gone. There’s a bike shaped hole in your heart. Because a bike’s not just a bike is it? And Chrissie’s not just a World Champion. She’s a girl who wants her bike back.

I really hope you find it Chrissie.

20 July 2014

The Newcastle Woodhorn triathlon

This is a fabulous triathlon. It was a great race when it was the QE2 triathlon. But this year, when the powers that be decided that an iconic race through the centre of Newcastle was not to be, providing an alternative venue for any race with just four weeks notice was a big ask. Woodhorn Colliery Museum stepped in gracefully. And the guys from V02 Max Racing Events, already well known for their terrific, well organised events in the North East, stepped up, put the disappointment of losing so much of their hard work behind them and made it their best event to date.

When they announced there wouldn’t be a Newcastle based race – no river swim, no closed city roads, no run along the Quayside, they rightly gave competitors the option to get their money back. Or take part in the new race, in the alternative venue and get a partial refund. I think they expected many would drop out.

But we came. Triathletes like me, knowing the course from previous races. Triathletes who travelled from far away. And beginners, who were faced with a 24km bike ride rather than the original 10km. I don’t know what the turn out was compared to the numbers who had booked for the original race, but there were around 600 competitors who took part.

There were four swim starts. I was in the second sprint wave and anxious to get in the water so that I could manage my usual race nerves and calm myself before the start. Lake rules dictate that is a wetsuit compulsory swim, but the water was 18C, so not shockingly cold. I got in and floated on my back, letting water into my suit. Then I splashed my face a couple of times and tried breathing out with it in the water. I was a bit too hyped to get a good clear out breath, but I was okay and ready to get going.

Me on the run at the Newcastle Woodhorn triathlon

Me on the run at the Newcastle Woodhorn triathlon – photo by Tove Elander

The countdown started, the hooter sounded and we were off. I was determined not to be a wuss and hang back too much, but to put myself in the mix, albeit not right up the front. I had been frustrated with my last tri start where a bit of a panic meant I stopped and watched the entire field swim away from me.

I struck out into front crawl. My breathing was a bit ragged, but I knew I could live with that for a bit, until I found a more settled pace. Although there was a good wide starting area, swimmers were bunched together and I found myself swimming a good bit water polo style to avoid too many crashes. At the start, you really couldn’t see other swimmers under the water.

I’d gone maybe 200m and the water was starting to clear, so I could see the plants and weeds at the bottom of the lake and bubbles off the feet of swimmers in front. There was a swimmer to my right side, so I tried to draft a little off their hip. But I soon found myself caught in a bit of a pincer movement as another swimmer cut across me from the left.

And then I got a proper bash on the side of my head. It was a real thump, I guess from a hand, elbow, or possibly a kick. Not deliberate, I’m sure, just that my head was in the wrong pace at the wrong time. It floundered me, sent me gasping and desperately trying not to take in a gob full of water. I trod water and gathered my thoughts.

I knew it was enough to unsettle me if I let it. I knew I hadn’t really given myself enough time to calm down and relax in the water, hoping I could tough it out until the field spread out a little. I turned onto my back and floated, taking a couple of deep breaths, once again, being conscious of the field moving ahead of me.

But I gathered myself more quickly and ploughed back on into front crawl. A bit more heads up than I’d have liked, but gradually regaining confidence, getting my breathing calm and just thinking smooth and steady. The first buoy seemed far distant, but I made it and turned easily across to the second.

I was back among the other white capped swimmers now, but with more space and less jostling. I swam beside another girl who felt like she was at a similar speed for a while. But then sighting back to the bank, I thought she was swimming rather wide, so I adjusted my course.

Smooth and steady, I was in my swimming flow now and starting to overtake swimmers around me. In the last few hundred metres I kicked hard, stayed largely out of the scrum for the bank and headed up the hill to transition, conscious that I was far from the last of my wave out of the water.

I had a great position in the bike rack, near the end of the row. A girl with a beautiful Bianchi racked next to mine came through into transition just after me, so the race was on to make sure I got out ahead of her.

Off onto the bike course and I was feeling good. There’s a bit of a downhill start, so I was up through the gears quickly and out onto the main road. Sure, I always get passed on the bike, but I was able to get a fair way before I started being over taken.

Whether it was because I was further up the swim, or it’s just the nature of this course, but I was never out of sight of other bikes on this course. That’s really nice for a slower cyclist like me. Within ten minutes I was overtaken by my pal Ged from work, another one I recruited to the dark side, taking part in his first open water event.

I managed a few overtakes myself, most likely from the beginners race, but still giving me the impetus to keep the pace up. At Cresswell, the course turns alongside a beautiful stretch of sand dunes, with the sea just metres away. In the last couple of years, it’s been stunning – bright blues and golds. Today, everything was grey and shrouded in a fine sea mist. Still, at least the forecast thunderstorms and torrential down pours had held off.

The girl on the Bianchi passed me just beside the caravan park. But by now I was holding my own and managed to make it through Lynemouth before the first of the speedy standard competitors came roaring past on their carbon and solid wheels.

Michelle NicolI’d been drinking High 5 juice throughout the bike, but hadn’t taken anything to eat, thinking ‘it’s just a sprint’. But actually it’s a long sprint, with a 24km bike and a 6.05km run. I got a sudden rush of cramp in my right leg at one point, totally out of the blue. Just the one crippling jolt and then it was gone, but leaving me wondering if it was going to happen again. I made sure I kept drinking for the rest of the course.

I was starting to fade towards the end. There may have been a little uphill gradient, or it may just have been me getting fed up with it, but it felt like I dropped my cadence and began to pootle a little. Fortunately, it wasn’t far to the final left turn into the museum grounds and along a long road to the dismount point.

No real issues in transition and I was off and away on the run around the paths beside the lake. My legs felt good, not too stiff or wobbly. I went off a bit too fast and had to ease it back a bit to find my rhythm.

I concentrated on my form, counted steps, thought about, feet, knees, hips and shoulders. And I waved and smiled to my parkrun friends who were out on the course marshaling or supporting. Claire was out on the run course, practising for her important role helping out at the triathlon in the Commonwealth Games next week. And my lovely friends Tove and Jules from parkrun were out round by the end of the lap where we run across a small gauge railway line.

Two laps round the lake, up a small slope around the back of the museum buildings, down a grassy slope and sprint to the finish line. I’d finished with a flourish and felt fantastic :-) I do love my triathlons.

I cleared my bike and stuff from transition as some of the standard competitors were coming through to start their run. And I was very grateful I wasn’t doing the standard distance. The long sprint was enough for me and my training this time.

There was a massive, well-attended prize giving. I’ve never known so many cups and awards at an event, with lots of age category prizes, as well as a corporate challenge, team challenge and relay races. There were also some amazing spot prizes including tri suits, wet suits and one guy walked away with a brand new Merida bike.

I had such a good race on this course last time I did it, that I hadn’t expected much from my performance. I haven’t done anything like the number of bike miles this year and my running’s not on form either. But I ended up only a minute slower overall than last year, taking 2 mins 30 off my swim, shaving 9 seconds off my bike time and only losing out on transitions and about 3 mins on the run. So I was pretty surprised and pleased about that. I think it shows I can still improve and have something to ficus on next year.

I’d still love this city to have an iconic race – one that would look great against the background of the river and its bridges. But there’s something quite special about a tribe of triathletes descending on a visitor attraction in a country park and taking it over with our carnival for the day. Woodhorn Colliery Museum did a great job of hosting at short notice and ensuring there was an event we could all enjoy. Three cheers, bravo to everyone who made it happen.

Swim: 18:38
T1: 01:47
Bike: 54:41
T2: 1:17
Run: 39:51
Total: 1:56:14

Results

Photos

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