How does it feel to marshal rather than compete at a triathlon?
I’ve taken part in enough VO2 Max Racing Events in the north east to know that I’m guaranteed a great day, a safe race and a fantastic sense of encouragement as a triathlete. I’m happy to say that I had the same great experience as a marshal at the Northumberland triathlon.
I’ve raced this event a few times, both at sprint and standard distances, so I know it’s a great location, and with a spot of clear sunny weather forecast predicted that everyone was in for a good day.
It did feel strange with only me and a bag to load into the car for the early drive up the coast. No need to add my bike and wetsuit and all the gear I need to take part in a triathlon. I kept thinking I’d forgotten something.
There were plenty of competitors there already as I arrived in plenty of time for the marshals briefing at 07:30. These guys really look after everyone who races or volunteers.
When I signed up to help out, I got the option of a free entry to another one of their events. On the day, I had all the information I needed, picked up a race T-shirt and was offered snacks, drinks and given a hot meal voucher to use once my marshalling stint was over.
I had a short walk around the lake to my first spot as a swim marshal, backing up the kayak crew, keeping an eye out for any swimmers in difficulty and potentially offering an early exit point from the swim.
My stomach did a nervous flip flop as the first competitors entered the lake, as I imaged my own race nerves and adrenaline building up for the start. With the first wave off, it was amazing to see how quickly the swimmers spread out as they lapped the buoys, with the fastest cutting streamlined wakes through the water. The noise of the splashes as arms hit the water was incredible!
With the second wave off soon after, there was sometimes a bit of congestion, but from my view point everyone seed to be okay. I was surprised and encouraged by how many swimmers I saw doing what I do and taking a little time to settle or switching to breast stroke to keep out of trouble around the buoys. I could even hear a couple of guys chatting to each other and encouraging each other on the way round.
With no problems on the swim, I left the last few competitors with the kayak safety crew and walked a little further around the lake to my marshaling spot for the run. My job for the next couple of hours was generally to shout, encourage and direct runners as they completed two laps of the lake for sprint distance and four for the standard.
The sun had warmed up by now and as runners started to appear, I knew they would be finding it tough, so I did my best to be encouraging. When I could see it, I tried to check their race number against the competitors list and give them a personal shout out. With those doing the standard distance, I started to recognise who was coming up next.
As a triathlete and runner, I know how important a bit of support can be along the route. Even if marshals and spectators are saying nothing more than ‘well done, keep going’, it can be a real boost. And getting your name shouted out is always encouraging.
I got some nice shouts back from those taking part, including one guy who said he was very happy to not see me again on his last lap! I knew exactly what he meant as it’s always a relief to know you’re almost at the end of a big race. I enjoyed all the smiles and waves and thank yous.
There was a brief shower before the final runner came through on his last lap and then I was done with my marshaling for the day. The chief run marshal walked back to check on me and I collected some of the signs on my way round to the finish, where I welcomed a hot pork bun from the catering team.
I’m a big fan of triathlon, both as a competitor and as a supporter and I know that these events just couldn’t happen without willing volunteers. I’ve enjoyed their support in many, many races, so this weekend it felt great to offer something back. I thought I’d feel more disappointed not to be taking part, but I really didn’t. I had a great morning out and will look forward to my next race in July with even more excitement.
The Ashington triathlon was the first triathlon I ever did back in 2011. It now has a new base at the new leisure centre for the 400m pool swim, and a lovely new trail run which I encountered for the first time this year.
I’ve done far less triathlon training than I did for that first event and I feel slower and less fit than when I tackled the course on a heavy old mountain bike. But it has the reputation of being a friendly, local and well organised event and, coming at the start of the season, no one is feeling at their sharpest.
Despite my misgivings, I was surprisingly relaxed and nonchalant about the whole thing. I got my kit ready the day before and checked my bike over. I also spent a bit of time going through race in my mind and trying some positive visualisation of how it would feel to take part.
I slept well and woke just before the alarm. I managed half a bowl of porridge and packed the car for the short drive. I had plenty of time to register and collect my race t-shirt before setting up my bike, helmet and shoes in the transition area.
I had quite a long wait before my heat, so I opted to take some time out and went back to the car to listen to some music and avoid too much hustle and bustle. My mind was running over the last minute preparations before the race, so I headed back to the leisure centre and got ready to race.
With my tri suit on and goggles and hat in hand, I headed to the pool side. After the briefing, I stood to one side to take some deep breaths and stretch to keep my nerves under control.
There was plenty of time to get in the water and do some bubble blowing to get my breath under control. I was first off in my lane, so my first length was into clear water – a lovely way to ease in gently. I heard the whistles go for the others behind me and soon the water was churning.
When I felt a tip on my toes at the end of my 2nd length, I let the other two swimmers go past. It meant I could focus on my own swim without worrying about holding anyone up. I tried to draft off the feet of the man in front of me, but it was obvious they were faster paced swimmers. It wasn’t a fast swim for me, but I always felt in control and even kicked on a bit of pace for the last two lengths. My aim was to have a calm swim and I did.
Swim done, and I was quickly out of the pool, and running around the side of the building into transition. I’ve suffered from cold feet on this bike ride before, so took a few extra seconds to put socks on. My time show I wasn’t much slower than normal.
Off out on the bike and it felt a bit chilly at first, but that encouraged me to get my legs turning over quickly. The route passes the Ashington Archer statue three times over two laps and and out and back section. I kept my gears in a relatively easy effort, only having to make a big change at the foot of Bothal Bank.
In past I have powered up this short sharp hill. Today I was out of the saddle for parts of the lower section, with my breath gasping even though my legs were turning at a very slow speed by the top.
The next section was into the wind and this soon took me round to start my second lap. My back felt a bit niggly as I turned towards the Archer, and by the time I’d climbed the steep bank again, I was trying to stretch it out.
Heading back on the final out and back section, the wind was in my face and the added resistance made this hard work. I could feel myself slowing and kept telling myself to turn my legs over faster so I could get to the end and get off the bike sooner.
I stopped before the dismount line and headed back into transition to rack my bike and do a swift change into my running shoes.
The run course is new to me and follows a good trail path alongside farmers’ fields and through some trees. It takes a long straight road out, then a loop back around towards the start, followed by a shorter loop to the finish.
I felt like my feet were shuffling until I reached the trail paths, where I was able to pick up my feet and to inject a bit more pace. Throughout the whole of the race, the marshals were great, full of encouragement and positivity.
My run pace dropped off a bit as I tackled a barely there rise, but I was able to pick up again soon after. On coming round for the shorter lap I figured I had about a mile to go. Soon the finish line was in sight and with a bit of a kick and arms aloft, I made it.
A bevy of smiling marshals took my timing chip, gave me a bottle of water and presented me with a medal. I wasn’t expecting that – we don’t often get medals from triathlon races and this one was a lovely wooden one in the shape of the county of Northumberland, marked with the stripes of the county flag and featuring cut out figures swimming cycling and running.
This is still a great, friendly triathlon, and in my view has been improved by the move to the new leisure centre. The hill on the bike course makes it challenging, but it’s a great way to start the triathlon season.
Everything was very well organised by Northumberland tri club with help from VO2 Max Racing events. It was particularly well and enthusiastically marshalled by volunteers who were mainly from the club. Marshals and volunteers are so important at these events, not just for safety, but for their encouragement and support, and every one of them did a great job.
I hope to put this race back on the calendar, and return fitter and faster next year.
It’s been a long time since I wrote a race report, but then it’s been a long time since I’ve raced. September last year saw my final triathlon of the season at the Brownlees event at Harewood House and I haven’t done a competitive race since then.
Easter Sunday was to be the day I stuck a number on my shirt, a timing chip on my trainers and ran 10k along the North East coast from North Shields to Whitley Bay in the annual North Tyneside 10k.
This is my most local race and the first one I ever did back in 2009, so it has good memories for me. It’s always on Easter Sunday, which means that the conditions can be very variable. I’ve run it with snow and hailstones lashing down, and then another time got sunburned shoulders and plodged in the sea at the finish. But there’s always the promise of some chocolate indulgence afterwards.
I’ve been focusing on building up Wordstruck, my freelance writing and training business over the past few months, so haven’t done anything like the volume of training that I’ve done in previous years. One or two runs per week, and a weight training session is about all I’ve managed with any kind of consistency. I also hurt my back a few weeks ago, luckily not badly, but it has meant I’ve been easing back into running and other training.
So, those are all my excuses. But really I don’t need to make them, because like everyone else running, I was prepared to get up, get there and give it a go. My aim was to run harder than I would do in training, run every step and to enjoy it. And I did.
In a well practised routine, I dropped my car off near the finish and got a lift to the start at the Parks Leisure Centre in North Shields. There was a great sense of anticipation, seeing lots of running club vests and runners all gathering together for a big race. The air was chilly, and the forecast rain and wind were being kept at bay.
My pal Peter Brooks spotted me and said hello and we had a nice chat before the start. I only saw a couple of other runners I know, which was surprising given the crowds. I remained quite relaxed as we made our way to the start.
Wearing my new Garmin Fenix 5S for its first race, I got set to press start as I stepped over the line, with a chorus of beeps showing our timing chips had been activated. I was off and running! And it felt great.
The first section of the course is pretty crowded as runners find their way through the streets of North Shields and then turn down the hill towards the Fish Quay. I didn’t have any problems running among the crowds though, just finding my own space and really picking up some speed on the down hill.
Along the Fish Quay, it felt quite sheltered and even warm, and there was plenty of space as runners in brightly coloured shirts streamed in a ribbon along beside the river. We all knew there was a hill coming, and as it got closer, there was an almost palpable sense of tension. I focused on shortening my stride and just keeping going, up, then a little left turn and up again, before the road opens out beside Tynemouth Priory and another steep uphill, crowned with supporters.
In a bid to do some training, I will come out and run hill reps up this slope, so I’m not frightened of it. I kept my pace steady, just pushing on, counting the lamposts to emerge at the top, and keep going, knowing there’s a nice easy downhill to help regather your energy.
Now I was on familiar ground, running along the route of many regular runs, the sea on my right, a cool breeze on my face. The only difference from my training runs are the number of other runners and supporters on the course.
Three miles down and I was feeling good, knowing the hardest part of the route was behind me. At this point, I was saying to myself, push on, keep pushing and don’t leave anything in the tank.
Having focused on recovering, I’ve been running at relatively easy effort, with little focus on speed, so I wasn’t too sure how I would feel picking up the pace for a race.
I was still enjoying it and high fiving the occasional supporter along the route. I got a couple of shout outs, but didn’t always see where they came from. One little lad with blond hair was doing a great job of cheering on runners and gave me a good loud “Go on Fetch” (reading my race T-shirt). That gave me at least a half a mile boost.
I deliberately didn’t look at my watch, but felt the buzz as I clocked up another mile. Knowing the route, I also had an innate sense of where I was and how far I still had to go. I glanced at the view a few times, but today was more focused on looking ahead and pushing on. I started to target runners in front to chase down and pass, but I was starting to feel it was taking more of an effort to keep up the pace.
Just before Spanish City, the path narrows sharply, and marshals directed us onto the road for a short section, before we ducked around the new hotel and back onto the footpath beside Whitley Bay links. Somewhere along here I saw a runner I recognised from parkrun, with her distinctive hair braids, and wearing a Newcastle Front Runners shirt. I went to shout her some encouragement, but blanked on her name, so burbled something incomprehensible that she didn’t hear. Sorry Vanessa!
By now I was running along the Links, knowing that there was only just over a mile to go. Nothing hurt, I still felt good, but it felt like I’d started to go backwards as my pace dropped and runners seemed to pass me on both sides. My old work pal Helen Riding gave me a shout as she passed by and I focused on keeping her in my sights as long as I could. But by now there were supporters and runners who had finished beside the paths, and I lost track of her as I absorbed energy from their support.
The signs appear for the last few hundred metres and a runner behind me encourages two girls to push on for the finish. I’m still thinking ‘leave nothing in the tank’ and pick up the pace as I round the final corner with the finish line in sight. After feeling a bit sluggish for the past half mile or so, my legs surprise me with a blast of pace and I manage a sustained sprint for the line. Wow! That felt great.
I have a chat with Helen at the finish. She thinks she’s got close to the hour and my watch tells me I’m just over 1h 1 min. I’m slower than last year when I just scraped in under the hour, but really happy with how I ran and how I felt running and racing again.
It is a glorious thing to be able to do, to just get up and know that I can run 6.2 miles. I’ve run further and faster, but 10k remains my benchmark of a decent but enjoyable challenge and the kind of run that I aim to do regularly, either training or racing.
Running it along a familiar and beautiful piece of coast line with so many fellow runners and friends is a once a year privilege, and one I hope to enjoy for a long time yet.
The Brownlee tri at Harewood House is my special end of the season treat. Having done it for the first time last year, I know it’s well organised, in a good location, friendly, and a fun and challenging course. Plus, if you’re lucky, you can meet a Brownlee or two. I managed to get a snap with both Alistair and Jonny again this year.
There are two distances raced at the event – sprint and super-sprint, with waves going off in age-group order. I was doing the sprint with its slightly long bike and run with a start time of 11:50, meaning I could wake up at a reasonable time and drive down, with plenty of time to set up.
I picked up my race pack, complete with temporary number tattoos (I do like a proper race tat) and hung around registration to see my pal Tove who was racing along with her husband Roger and their friends Jon and Annabel who I had met at the Leeds triathlon.
After racking my bike in transition and enjoying a friendly chat to the other ladies near me in the racks, I went for a look around the ‘Race Village’ and spotted Alistair over at the kids’ triathlon area. There were loads of youngsters running and cycling around a grass track, winning medals and certificates and getting them signed. Alastair was great, chatting to them all, asking how fast they’d gone, if they were having a good day etc.
I held back until there was a break in the stream of youngsters crossing the line and got a photo. I took great pride in shaking Ali’s hand and saying thanks for all the joy they have given me, watching them racing. “And disappointment too,” he deadpanned, obviously referring to Jonny’s stumble into silver in the World Series, but I shook my head. Ali – always the competitor.
After that encounter I got set for my race, wriggling into my wetsuit and walking down to get the briefing by the lake. I took some deep breaths and did some stretches, even though I wasn’t feeling particularly nervous. I really wanted to have a relaxed swim here, after a bit of a mental melt down in my last tri.
The chap doing the race briefing was brilliant. A nice young Yorkshire lad, who gave all the info we needed, with a bit of humour, a smile and loads of encouragement. I didn’t realise at the time, but it was only elite triathlete and Brownlee training partner Mark Buckingham. Just another small thing that adds up to a great event.
Anyway, onto my race. A walk along the wobbly pontoon and then a brief chance to get into the water and acclimatise before the start. The lake temperature was 15C, so I had a bit of a gasp as I went in, but I soon warmed up. The shallow silty water sucked at my feet, so that I felt like I was sinking into slimy carpet.
One hand on the pontoon and the hooter goes to start. Given the state of the water, I opt for a mix of breast stroke and heads-up crawl to reach the first buoy, but after that I knuckle down, get my head in and start counting strokes to keep going.
I manage okay on the swim. At first everyone has struck away from me, but I catch a few stragglers as I round the top of the lake and head back towards the swim exit. I don’t feel fast, but I do feel strong and reasonably calm on my swim. I even bully myself through the thick black water around the buoys and find clearer patches towards the finish.
Up the ramp and off towards transition which is up a grassy hill. I help the girl ahead of me to un-velcro her wetsuit and pull her zip down. “I’m dizzy,” she says. As I reach my bike and step completely out of one leg of my suit, I realise I am too. I stop and grab onto the racking to reset my horizon before tackling the second leg. I should have sat down, as I struggle to get it over my chip.
Helmet on, and away with the bike up to the top of the grass and then a run towards the mount line, which I know, and have been warned, is at the bottom of a hill. It’s a tough push on the first lap, only made slightly easier on subsequent laps because you know it’s coming and can carry a bit of momentum through it. The couple cheering at the Macmillan stand behind Harewood house are a welcome sight to mark the top of the hill on each lap.
I take it easy around the first lap, reminding myself of the route which includes a nice mix of sweeping downhills and some sharp turns together with a couple of straights and a steep climb before you come round to the start and another hill. I am either braver or heavier on the downhill sections, as I close the gaps on some of the women in front of me. But I’m still cautious, not wanting to overtake on some of the sharp bends.
Some walk the steep hill, marked by a gate with a sign saying “It’s Yorkshire. Dig in.” I drop to the lowest gear and take it section by section each time. Push on to the lighter coloured patch of tarmac. Push on under the bridge. Push on again to the top, where Tove and Annabel are cheering me on.
On the second lap my lower back is niggling on the right hand side around hip level. Thankfully with a mix of uphills out of the saddle and downhill cruising I manage it, but it has me gritting my teeth at times on the flatter sections. Then I spot a para-triathlete cycling with a prosthetic leg, and I shut myself up.
Still I’m relieved to climb the steep hill for the last time and enjoy the cowbells and crowds as I peel off back towards transition. I take the dismount gingerly, coming to a stop before dismounting, but once off the bike the pain in my lower back eases off.
Just the run to do now and I’m soon off down the grassy tracks and into the woods. Encouraged by the smiles and shouts of the triathletes heading back saying what a lovely course it is, I try to get my legs moving. My plan had been to run hard, but my legs don’t really want to know, and as there’s a good bit of uphill in the first section, it’s more of a shuffle.
Still, I keep moving forwards, keeping a lady in my sights who I have seen stop and stretch a couple of times. It is a lovely course on trails through the trees with a couple of sharp descents and a ford that I splash through laughing.
On a steep and long uphill, I catch up with the lady I’ve been tracking, who I learn is called Christine and who doesn’t want to be caught by her husband who set off in the wave after hers. We chat and run together a bit, and realising we were in the same wave, I tell her she has to beat me.
But at a steep downhill, I turn off my brain and run down putting a gap between us. My legs finally get the message and from here to the end I feel like I pick up a bit more of my usual pace.
With shouts of encouragement to the other runners heading out as I pass back along towards the race village, I remind myself to enjoy the moment as I surge for the line arms aloft. With medal, water, T-shirt and goody bag swiftly collected from the team of enthusiastic volunteers, I hang on to see Christine finish and offer my congratulations.
Another triathlon completed, and after a funny old year in terms of not really training and feeling the fire in my belly for any events, it’s some satisfaction to be able to do that. I’d been out and active for just under 2 hours and 30 minutes. I hadn’t looked at my times to compare, but when I did, I was slower in every aspect than last year, but I don’t mind. I turned up, did it and enjoyed the whole event – the atmosphere, the race in a lovely location, meeting two sporting legends.
I stayed at the finish and got a massage to ease my back before meeting up with my pals. We all agreed we’d be back again next year. I had a good chat with a guy who had been in Cozumel, supporting his brother in the age group race and watching the thrilling emotional finish of the world series with Alistair helping Jonny over the line. Towards the end of the day, I finally spotted Jonny and managed a stupid grin for a photo just before he was whisked away to present the prizes.
Those boys have been responsible for three of my best days in 2016 – racing on the same course at the Leeds triathlon and then cheering them on to first and second place in the elite race; watching the Olympic triathlon with my best tri buddy after a sunny day cycling at the coast, and today, getting to meet them and say thank you, while taking part in a brilliant race.
As I finally got home and hoiked all my kit back up three flights of stairs, I was still buzzing. I sent a thank you message to my PT who got me started on this road, first to running and then triathlon. Even slow and steady, I’m happy to be part of it and so, so very grateful for the amazing experiences it’s brought me. As I said to Christine as we were running together, I hope I can still do this when I’m 80.
The QE2 triathlon is my most local event – only about 30 mins drive away on a quiet Sunday morning and starting in the lake where I’ve been swimming almost every Thursday evening since the middle of May. It’s the first open water event I did back in 2012, on a memorable day, meeting my best buddy Lesley and family, and finishing with with some of my favourite ever triathlon photos. So, yes, I like this triathlon and its happy associations.
When I first got back to open water swimming at the QE2 lake with the Vo2 Max Racing crew in May this year, the water temperature was about 11C and I didn’t really enjoy my first few swims. I struggled to catch my breath and bullied myself around a couple of laps of the course, doing a lot of self talking and deals about how long I’d stay in or how many laps I’d do.
The most dangerous thought that I had early on in my open water swimming season was ‘I don’t have to do this’. I persisted because I knew I needed the practice and I wanted to be as prepared as possible for the Leeds triathlon.
I wanted to enjoy it. I knew at some level that I have enjoyed open water swims here, and elsewhere, but it felt like a sensation I could no longer grasp.
And then, a few weeks ago, the water had warmed up a little and I spent one session swimming with a new open water swimmer who had plunged in and found herself in a bit of a tizzy with her breathing and confidence, despite being very at home in a pool.
I know that feeling very well, and so I swam my laps in a mixture of breast stroke and very slow front crawl, keeping an eye on her, offering reassurance and open water swimming tips. That was a good swim for me as I forgot about my own swim anxieties and had no expectations of how far or how long I would swim for.
I watched out for her at subsequent sessions but didn’t see her again until she passed me on the bike on Sunday’s triathlon (her first event). I was thrilled to see her as I went to collect my bike after the race and share her joy at becoming a triathlete.
I’ve been less focused on training for any events this year. I figure I’m having a year of just enjoying my sports and taking the pressure off. I appreciate the fact that I have the experience, confidence and fitness to rock up and take on a sprint tri. I wouldn’t have been able to do that before 2009. And I hope I never take that for granted. It’s still a tough ask – even if you’re not racing flat out or in any danger of threatening the sharp end.
Which is all a very long preamble to my race. The only thing I really wanted from it was a good swim. Good being one in which I didn’t stress out and have a mini meltdown and have to do lots of talking to myself to get through it.
I had an excellent swim.
I must have had one or two of these before, but I more easily remember the ones where I’ve really had to battle with my head and felt like I had to take time out to settle down.
I got into the water as soon as I could, and had what felt like a good 10 minutes floating around, getting relaxed and comfortable and doing a few practice strokes. I even lay right back and floated with my eyes closed before positioning myself at the back and out wide of the starting buoys.
I went on the hooter – striking out with a few strokes of heads-up, and then quickly moving into head-down front crawl. It was a bit congested, but I managed to avoid any serious bashing and just struck out towards the first marker. The mass start made the water brownish, silty and churned up for the first few metres, but it soon cleared, although the chop continued for a while.
Shortly before the first buoy I could feel myself starting to thrash my arms a little and boost my heart rate with shallow breathing, so I took a time out, just a few seconds to tread water and reset. While it was hard seeing swimmers pass me, it was the right thing to do, as I struck back out into calmer, clearer water and found a new, more comfortable rhythm in my stroke.
That continued around the rest of the course, momentarily easing up at each turn to sight the next buoy and actually think to myself how much I was enjoying the feel of the water and swimming in the lake.
Towards the finish, as I approached the shallows, I got closer to some feet and legs and almost got swum over by someone striking out for the jetty, but that only slowed me for a fraction of a second and I got up to my feet and out of the water feeling calm but elated with my swim.
During the long run up towards transition, I sneaked a peek at my watch. I’d deliberately avoided checking my overall time for this event, but I knew my best swim time was 18 mins something. So I couldn’t believe it when I saw 15:52 on my watch. Official time, including the run into transition was 17:47, so easily almost a minute faster than I have been before.
Most importantly I felt great. I had enjoyed the swim, hadn’t stressed out and was ready to tackle the bike course.
The terrain makes this a slightly long sprint course with a 24k bike and just under a 6k run. It was warm, but cloudy on Sunday morning, and there had been an early morning shower that left the road damp. The immediate ride out of the park is a nice downhill, so time to settle in and get my legs turning over.
Out onto the road and the cross wind became more apparent. Not enough of a breeze to disturb my balance on the bike, but maybe enough to make me work a bit harder.
I haven’t done enough cycling. I really struggle to fit it in at any other time other than the weekend. And going out on my own, I tend to do the same routes and don’t really get enough mileage in. But I started off enjoying the cycle, even as, as always, I was quickly and speedily passed and after 10k rarely saw another competitor except when they overtook.
I had a couple of mouthfuls of juice and ticked off the sights as I rolled along beside the coastline at Cresswell. There’s a slight inland turn near Lynemouth towards the end of the route. My back was starting to niggle as I cycled along beside the dunes and as I approached a slight long incline, I felt like I had no power in my legs.
I’d tried to keep up my cadence throughout, but from just before 20k onwards, I was definitely dropping, and as I approached Lynemouth I had a distinct loss of energy and power and a bit of a mental dip. I dropped through the gears, moved around to try and stretch out my back and had a gel. It was probably all a bit too late to make any difference, as my back was still a bit troublesome but eased by a bit of coasting downhill.
I managed to get a bit of speed back as I turned into the park, but was soundly overtaken by two or three more riders before I came to a stop. I was worried about jarring my back, so didn’t even attempt a rolling dismount at the line. But as soon as I was out of my cycling position, it felt better. I have had a proper bike fit for this bike, but I would have been considerably lighter at the time. Would that have made a difference?
Onto the run, and my legs weren’t too wobbly as I struck out on the paths around the lake. With two laps for the sprint and three for the standard distance event, I was frequently passing or being passed by runners on my way round.
I was well supported with parkrun buddies Jules and Claire marshalling near transition and the start of each lap, and just before a little climb around the back of Woodhorn Museum buildings towards the end. I made sure I was relaxed and picking my feet up each time I saw them, but generally I felt I ran okay throughout.
My hamstrings felt tight at the start of the run, but oddly not my quads, and the sensation soon eased off. I knew I wasn’t fast and I wasn’t pushing hard, but felt like my efforts were just a notch down from a fast parkrun.
I ran every step, thanked the marshals and gave a high five to two little girls standing in high viz at the bottom of the lake. I managed to pick up a bit of speed down the last bank and raised my arms for another finish with a smile.
So, another really enjoyable race from VO2 Max Racing. Their swim sessions at the QE2 lake have really helped me this year and they always put on a great race for competitors and Woodhorn Colliery Museum grounds provide a great venue for a top event.
Swim 750m: 17:47
Bike 24km: 1:00:51
Run 6k: 41:29
I found a spot on the kerb of the Headrow to watch the start of the women’s race on the big screen. I was still sipping my water and recovering from my own race as they dived in off the pontoon.
It’s never easy to keep track of athletes in the swim but it was clear that team GB’s Jessica Learmouth and Lucy Hall were in the leading pack with Bermuda’s Flora Duffy. As they emerged from the second lap of the lake, USA’s Gwen Jorgensen and GB’s Vicky Holland were in the mix for the run to transition and the bike leg.
At this point I went off to see if my bag with my dry clothes had arrived, and tried to meet up with my friends, but with the course being live for racing, it was impossible to cross from one side to the other. It was obvious that my bag wouldn’t arrive for a while, so I made my way to a spot close to Millennium Square to watch the race. By sheer coincidence my friends from Newcastle were across the road, so I could see them, but couldn’t reach them.
Soon I heard a cheer from the bottom of the street and the bikes emerged with two team GB girls in the leading pack. It took until they’d passed to identify Jessica Learmouth and Lucy Hall mixing it up with Flora Duffy up front, but they earned their cheers anyway.
Then there was a pause. It seemed a long gap before the following pack came through with Vicky Holland and Jodie Stimpson getting the yells and cheers for this one. The crowd continued to yell, cheer and clap as the racers came round each time and we soon lost track of the laps, but nothing much changed, with the lead group maintaining around a 1 min 40 second lead.
We knew it was the last lap when they started slipping out of their shoes to approach the dismount line. The pros do this at high speed and make it look really easy. As they turned into transition, they were out of sight.
It was exciting to watch the race in this way, without the benefit of a big screen to show what was going on around the rest of the course, anticipating who would approach the bottom of the street from the roar of the crowds and squinting to see who it would be.
I was really pleased to be able to identify the tall, rangy figure of Gwen Jorgensen as she appeared, like the Terminator at the bottom of the hill. Flora and the team GB girls kept her at bay for a couple of laps, and we wondered if the gap was too much for even this phenomenal runner to close.
But she did, and we saw it coming from the bottom of the road. Gwen had pushed closer and closer to Flora Duffy who had worked so hard to break away on the bike and she eventually overtook her right where I was standing in the crowd.
Gwen is a superb athlete and it was a thrill to see her powerful running style up close. I cheered her on, even though I’d have loved to have seen a GB girl up front.
My heart was with Jodie Stimpson, who had so narrowly missed out on a place in the Olympic team, but I was proud to cheer on any one of them. In the end it was Vicky Holland who took third place on the podium alongside Flora and Gwen and gave the Leeds crowd a home champion.
In the break between the women’s and men’s races I took the opportunity to move around and grab a bite to eat. By chance my pal Jules had found me and fed me a flapjack – the first thing I’d eaten apart from a slice of orange and a piece of banana, since the end of my race.
We watched part of the men’s swim and saw Richard Varga come out of the lake first, swiftly followed by Jonny and then Alistair Brownlee a few places behind. The Leeds lads are always out to do their best, but with a true home race they’d want to win more than ever. The question was, which brother would have the upper hand?
They were soon on their bikes and on their way into the city. I found my way back to my spot ready to spot them as they came into the highly technical, twisting city centre loops.
It seemed no time at all before we heard the cheers and saw the leading group of hometown heroes Jonny and Alistair, with Australian triathlete Aaron Royle and France’s Aurelien Raphael.
There was a gap before the chasing group came through – not so big as that in the women’s race, but enough to make you think that the winners would come from the lead group. We were surprised not to see Mola of Spain racing alongside Gomez, who was in the second group.
Of course, the crowd were pleased that the Brownlee boys were in a great position to dominate this race. With such a technical course through the city there was little change up at the front and as the lead pack came round the last turn for the dismount, it was still a race between the Brownlee boys and Aaron Royle.
The crowd was vocal for the women’s race, but the noise increased on every lap of the men’s. As they were into the run, we heard a surge at the bottom of the hill and looked down to see a lone runner streaking ahead in a team GB tri suit. But which Brownlee was it?
I spotted the distinctive floating running style of Alastair Brownlee and declared it to be him before I could really be sure. And I was right. He bounced past seemingly effortlessly, and sorry Ali, but I couldn’t take my eyes off your legs. How do you run so beautifully?
In such commanding form, there’s no betting against Ali, and he continued to pull away from his hard chasing brother on every lap.
We kept our eyes on Gomez among the chasers and cheered every runner through. Some were obviously working hard, the set of their jaw or the look in their eyes showing the effort they were putting in.
They ran unbelievably close to the barriers, with the crowds hanging over with cameras, clapping, cheering and screaming encouragement. You could see every bead of sweat, every nuance of expression. You don’t get that close to world champions at any other event that I know of.
Again we miscounted the laps and were cheering on Ali like he’d won on the penultimate lap. It’s a good job we weren’t running ourselves as we’d have been one short! But there were no such mistakes from the pros and had there been a roof over Leeds City centre. we’d have raised it with our shouts as the brothers came through for the last time, with Alastair taking an unassailable lead.
He smiled and held his arms out, drinking in the crowd support with a thumbs up and a high five or two along the last few metres. The white rose of Yorkshire flags were out as we cheered him home to a gold medal, with brother Jonny taking silver for a very proud Leeds 1,2. Aussie Royle took his third place after remaining strong throughout the run.
It was an incredible thrill to be so close to these superb athletes in action, to see and hear the crowds response to a fantastic race, and to appreciate the efforts of everyone who took part. On the last lap, a Japanese athlete’s legs buckled, cramped up or just ran out of juice and we spurred him on. The final athlete through got almost as big a cheer as the winner as we recognised the effort and challenge involved in taking part in a triathlon in the world series.
I was too excited to get much sleep in my lovely, but slightly too warm, hotel room the night before my debut racing on a World Championship triathlon course. So I woke a little bleary eyed but just keen to get on and get going.
After porridge and a kit check, I left my hotel and shared a taxi up to Roundhay Park with a fellow triathlete, David who I met in the lobby. It was a hassle free and straightforward trip and he was a really interesting and experience age group triathlete who had raced in Lisbon the week before.
It calmed my anxieties to be at the start in plenty of time. And before I even got to transition to check on my bike I saw Stuart from Alnwick tri getting into his wetsuit preparing to race in the standard distance race. It was nice to be able to wish him luck.
I had plenty of time to get myself ready and I took it, just calmly checking my bike, putting my drink bottle on and reminding myself of my place in the massive transition area.
Sometime just after that, I heard a Scottish lilt behind me and saw my Fetch pal Susan who I’d spent so much of the day with yesterday, and was able to give her a hug and wish her well too. That was another really nice piece of luck.
My wave was off at 09:32, so my plan was wetsuit on by 9am, drop my dry clothes and post race bag off and be ready for a pre-race briefing at about 09:10. It all went smoothly, except for me forgetting to put my trainers in the bag. Luckily the volunteer marshal who I was handing my bag to pointed out my error. He said I was far from the first to make it.
Nerves about the swim were kicking in, so I took a few moments to do some deep breaths and clear my mind. My only other pontoon start was rather unpleasant and I knew I’d have very little time in the water before the off, so I wanted to be as composed as I could be.
The lake looked still and calm and the previous wave of swimmers were well ahead as my group wearing our yellow hats stepped out along the pontoon. I was reassured that there looked to be some slower swimmers amongst them.
I picked slot number 8 on the pontoon, wondering which of the elites would dive from that spot later. We all sat on the edge dangling our feet in before we were instructed to get in and keep one hand on the pontoon.
The water temperature was 19C so didn’t have that nasty cold shock as I got in. I even made myself put my face in the water and was relieved to see how clear it was. And then came the countdown and the hooter and we were off.
At last week’s tri, I deliberately held back, settled myself away from the initial thrash and struck out into clear water. I opted for the same tactics here and not long after the start, I got myself into a nice settled front crawl.
I counted strokes pretty much all the way round the course, taking the odd little breather, treading water or doing a light breast stroke when I started to feel uncomfortable. At one point a boat wake caused a bit of a wave, but other than that it was a very smooth swim and I felt quite calm and relaxed throughout.
When I’m more confident in racing mode again, I hope I can put in a bit more effort, but really it doesn’t seem to make me swim much faster, so for now I’m happy to just get through it without stressing myself to the max.
I’d just about reached the third buoy along the dam wall, ready to turn back for sure when the fast swimmers from the following wave came through. There was plenty of space, so I never felt like I was going to be knocked or swum over.
I managed to sight and swim close to all the marker buoys and as I got closer to the finish started spotting slower swimmers from the wave before and managed to overtake a few of those. Overall it felt like a nice swim and as I kicked a bit, swimming right up to the ramp I felt really good about it. I didn’t look back but I don’t think I was the last out of my wave to finish.
The run over the blue carpet to the bike transition was a long one. Plenty of time to get my wetsuit down and cap and goggles off. I jogged most of it and walked a little rise up as I felt my foot cramp up a little. I knew it would be a very slow changeover.
I found my bike easily along the emptying racks and got my shoes and helmet out of the bag provided before getting out of my wetsuit and putting it and the goggles back in. Shoes and helmet on, bike in one had, bag in the other, it was another long run over the grass and up a small steep slope out of transition, then a good long trek over the tarmac to the mount line and bag drop point.
The start was a steep hill, so I had my bike in a low gear, left myself plenty of room and started to spin up it. So far, so good. I was off and away and cycling through the green trees and out of Roundhay park.
The bike course was really interesting. There were some good downhill descents where you could pick up some speed and also some tight turns and corners where you had to be careful. With mixed abilities in the waves and Standard and Sprint competitors out on the course at the same time, there were always bikes in sight which I enjoyed.
It did mean it got crowded at times. With no drafting allowed, I did find myself having to push on a few times to overtake a rider, only to run out of steam and have them re-take me. This happened a few times, playing cat and mouse with a man in a dark blue tri suit and a girl riding a flat bar bike who was very good on the longer, slower climbs.
The speedy riders came charging through, with many shouting ‘on your right’ and it did occur to me that it must have been frustrating for them to be in the mix with such slower riders. I always made sure to check over my shoulder before overtaking and tried to give a nod when I heard a shout and keep out of their way.
I recognised some of the Headingly, Cardigan Road area of the course from my student days, but much of it passed me in a blur. I was mainly keeping my eye out for the other competitors and spotting the turn around point for the way back.
I don’t really remember the first pass into the city, but I do remember being grateful to be climbing the last bit of a hill before the turn at Headingly and thinking it’s all down hill from here.
I came zooming back into the city proper and that’s when I saw the crowds and heard the noise and for the first time I had a real moment of thinking ‘What am I doing here – racing on this World Championship course?’ I beamed a massive smile and laughed at myself. It felt fantastic and even better when my parkrun pal Jules spotted me and gave me a shout. What a buzz!
Bike course done and into transition for a quick change into running shoes. My legs didn’t feel bad as I started the run – certainly better than being as cold as they were last week, but I never really managed to pick up anything more than a move forward shuffle.
It felt like a long run out from transition and round towards Millennium Square where I ran over the blue carpet and spotted the sign that said the lap count started there, meaning I had to pass through once more before passing down the finish funnel.
It was a route full of switches, turns and ups and downs. I never realised that the Headrow was a hill in both directions! Still it gave me the chance for my parkrun friends to spot me a couple of times. I even got a ‘Go Scribbler!’ shout from a Tyne triathlon member who I later identified as Michael Downes. That was a lovely surprise and a real boost.
I envied the lovely smooth fast runners who could pick up their feet and come storming past. Try as I might I could lift mine or gain much speed. As I rounded the top of the course for the last time I spotted Stuart again, on his last lap of his run. I pulled away from him a little, but he caught me again as we shuffled up the hill to the finish.
I was torn between finishing together and putting on a token sprint on the blue carpet. In the end vanity got me and I picked my feet up for a last gasp few strides and raised my arms for a Scribbler finish.
That was a real moment, thinking that some of my sporting heroes would be doing the same in just a few hours time. It was a real honour to be able to race a similar course to the elites. There aren’t that many sports you can do that and it’s one of the things that makes triathlon special.
I’d completed another triathlon and really enjoyed the big race experience. That was partly because I set myself the goal of just getting out and enjoying it rather than pushing hard to improve my times.
It was great to be back in Leeds and enjoy the busy, buzzing atmosphere of a large race, feeding off the crowd support for family and friends. The people, everyone from the bus driver, to the hotel staff, the volunteers, marshals and just general public were so warm, welcoming and helpful. I enjoyed my time as a student and working in my first job in West Yorkshire and the people’s pride and passion for their city and county and it was there by the bucketload at this event.
Later on I joined the massive crowds for an incredibly inspiring, adrenaline thumping, shouting myself hoarse and clapping my hands raw afternoon watching the women’s and men’s elite races. Athletes ran close enough to see the effort, smiles and grimaces on their faces. You really don’t get that close to the action in any other sport that I know of and I was full of joy to see team GB put on a great performance, culminating in a Brownlee gold and silver, with Alistair beaming up the final few hundred yards and acknowledging the immense support.
After my race, there were some issues with baggage collection and communications, which meant things didn’t go as planned for the afternoon, and have left many competitors feeling disappointed. But I’ll save telling that story for another blog.
I’m still buzzing and on a high after a most memorable experience. I’d like to remember that feeling rather than let some logistical issues detract from another amazing day in triathlon.
And so to the start of my triathlon season, with a nearly new event for me. The Northumberland triathlon takes place around Druridge Bay country park in Northumberland – a truly lovely part of the world.
I’ve been here before, but raced the standard distance in the past. The sprintis run on the same course, just with fewer laps. It’s a VO2 Max Racing event – which means it’s brilliantly organised, great fun and they always look for improvements. This year, the run, which is on good trails around the lake, was run clockwise, which I really enjoyed.
While Scotland and the West coast have been enjoying the sun over the last week, it’s been more like winter on the East coast, grey, damp and temperatures around 9C, so I was delighted when we got some sunshine and warmth on Saturday and a good forecast for race day Sunday.
I was up at 5am, kitted up and on the road to pick up my parkrun pal Tove who was marshalling at this event. With traffic free roads we made good time to Druridge and I went to get set up in transition.
I hadn’t really thought much about this race. I usually like to do more mental preparation, thinking through each part of the race, but I was feeling fairly relaxed, and I really felt no pressure to do anything except enjoy it.
I swam my third session of Open Water this year on Thursday evening and really felt the cold and had a few moments with my inner chimp saying “You don’t have to do this”, which was a bit sneaky. But I tussled my way round about 1k’s worth by relaxing and swimming really slowly and counting strokes to take before I gave myself a breather.
As I racked my bike and set out my gear, I kept my eyes open for my friend Lesley on her way down from Scotland to take part in the bike leg of the relay with her friend Krista doing the rest. I got hugs and we were soon ready to start. Time just disappears when you’re getting set for a tri.
It was still chilly and overcast, and knowing that it can take me a while to settle, I got into the water early for a warm up. Temperature was approx 13.5C and it felt a lot warmer than on Thursday night, so I swam a few strokes before setting myself at the back and feeling quite calm.
Even at the back, there was a bit of a thrash and churning of water at the start, so I struck out water polo style and waited for clear water before I got my head down and started swimming properly. I used the tactics from Thursday’s session throughout, taking a quick breather if I felt anxious or like I was getting breathless and focused on counting my strokes and being relaxed in the water.
Although most of the field was far out in front of me, I gained on quite a few of the stragglers who had gone off too hard and fast and just swam my own race.
Everyone was very polite, with lots of sorries if I got an accidental kick or a bash. I just about made it to the last buoy before the fast lads from the standard pack came powering through and even they breathed sorry as they splashed through. I didn’t think it was a particularly fast swim, but it was a really enjoyable and confidence boosting one. Since I’ve looked back a previous race results in open water over the same distance, it’s actually one of my best times!
Out of the water and up the bank with the help of the marshals. And into transition, which wasn’t a particularly fast one as I always struggle to get my wetsuit over my ankles, and given how cold it was, I did opt for socks in my bike shoes. But hey – no pressure, remember. I did the right things in the right order and ran out over the grass with my bike.
Along the road out of the country park and then onto a long straight main road towards Widdrington. I always get passed on the bike, and hardly ever pass anyone, and that was the same today. But I kept pedalling, and maintained a comfortable pace.
The course is nominally flat. There are no real hills, but there a couple of deceptive inclines and I did feel the effort through my legs as my cadence dropped, but there were no real quad screamers. I kept my eyes open for Lesley and my friend Ged doing his first Standard distance and saw them both twice on the out and back bike leg.
As I approached the roundabout turn I saw a fast rider ahead and something dropped off his bike. As I came around the turn he’d gone back to collect it – only his saddle! I don’t know whether he was able to continue or not, but it did make me think of Andy Holgate who relates a similar mishap on an iron distance course in his book Can’t sleep, Can’t train, Can’t Stop.
I could probably have pushed a bit harder on the bike, but I haven’t done much at fast speeds this year and I never was the speediest cyclist anyway. Today was just about getting round and remembering why I enjoy this activity so much. I was glad to see the turn back into the Country Park and even more thankful that I wasn’t doing the Standard and going past for another lap.
A fast descent towards the dismount line and a bit of slowing down before gingerly finding my legs off the bike. As I’d been cycling I’d tried to wiggle some feeling into my toes, but it proved impossible, so I began the run willing some blood flow back into my feet.
The run is a lovely route around the lake on good trails and as the sun started to appear I did eventually warm through. I reckon it took one of the two laps though before I could feel my toes.
Again, I just ran to feel and was spurred on by a band of marshals around the far side of the lake. Each turn or corner brought a familiar face, from parkrun friends Jules and Tove to triathlon pals I haven’t seen in ages, Peter and his wife Lyndsey. I felt like I had my own support team!
With multiple laps for the sprint and standard, there were always runners around, either passing or being passed and I just focused on keeping moving at a nice sustainable pace.
Once again I was glad I was doing the slightly long 5k over two laps, rather than the 4 lap 10k plus, especially as the new run took you past the finish line each lap. But it was great to get a shout out, and I genuinely felt like smiling as I ran in this lovely environment.
Back round towards the finish and for me the joy of running down the finish funnel and picking up the pace for a few strides over the line. Greeted by some enthusiastic young marshals who handed me a bottle of water and relieved me of my timing chip
Soon afterwards, I met up with Lesley who had finished her bike leg in a super fast time and together we cheered on Krista and others on the run.
We stayed for the presentations – lots and lots of prizes to give out! And then it was time to get back to our respective homes, but not before promising some more fun days over the summer.
I’ve trained harder and been more competitive at triathlons in previous years, but today’s was very successful in that I genuinely relaxed and enjoyed it. Getting through the swim without a massive adrenaline overload was a big achievement and having enough training in the tank to feel in control throughout made me feel good. Because, as I said to another lady after she finished her race, this is not a small thing to achieve.
I sort of knew I would, once I got racing again, but after a few doubts and nerves and uncertainties in my training and preparation this year, I can can confirm, I do still love triathlon. Even the swimming bit. And given that I’ve arguably the biggest, most complicated race I have ever done coming up next weekend in Leeds – that’s a good thing.
And before that, just the small matter of the annual craziness that is the Blaydon Race on Thursday night. Oh yes!
The last day of our C2C adventure starts with a climb and ends on home turf.
While those who had already climbed the hill enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, Gary, David and I set out to tackle the notorious climb that is Crawleyside Bank.
We didn’t have much chance to get our legs going before the ascent out of Stanhope began. Fellow rider Hilary had given us a good description of the challenge that she’d tackled the day before. She broke it down into three sections – to the cattle grid, to the white house and then to Parkhead. With tales of an hour’s climb and the steepest part of the route ahead, we set off a little nervously.
It was cooler than it had been the previous afternoon, but still the day promised to be bright and mild. There was a bit of traffic as the road twisted and turned on the climb and unfortunately I stopped just before the steepest section, giving myself a hard job to get back on and climb on the bike, but I made it.
Soon came signs for the cattle grid. I saw almost a mile done – that was practically half way already. I feared a steeper and harder climb ahead, but just kept going.
I knew this would be the hardest part of the day and kept my eyes focused a short way ahead as I climbed. Using the snow poles at the sides of the road as markers, I just kept pushing on to the next one, then the next. Soon I was past the white house.
The landscape changed again. Vegetation was spare and scrubby on the exposed ground. Up ahead the road rose again, but off to the side was what looked like a farm building with an old metal wagon at the edge of the turn into the driveway. That couldn’t be Parkhead could it?
The road I was on dipped a little and levelled out as I approached, remembering Hilary’s description of the landmarks. It was Parkhead! I saw the sign and turned in with a smile.
David and Gary weren’t far behind me. We had made it! And what’s more, we had beaten the van carrying the other riders and their bikes on the trailer and Elaine and Jack who set out after us on their electric bikes.
As we sheltered from the wind, waiting for them to arrive, we felt a great sense of satisfaction. Crawleyside Bank conquered, we had been promised an easy ride the rest of the way.
Once everyone was back together and bikes unloaded, we headed out onto the Wasterley Way, a section of gravelly track over the moor. A bleaker landscape than our start in the Lakes, but no less beautiful. The wind continued to challenge, but became easier to deal with once we dropped out of the most exposed paths towards Consett.
At the site of the former steel works, there’s now a sculpture of a silver theodolite held up on animal legs. Les met us here and gave us directions to the van, parked at a nearby retail park ready for a snack stop.
Refreshed and refueled, we were soon making great progress on the tree lined off-road tracks of the Derwent walk, meeting a number of other cyclists and walkers along the way, enjoying the sunshine.
As we crossed the high bridges and viaducts, we kept our eyes open for red kites, but didn’t see any.
By now we were on familiar ground and recognizing place names. There’s a surprising amount of parkland and countryside close to the big urban centre of Gateshead that you only discover when you get away from a car.
A few twists and turns and we were into the industrial landscape around the Metrocentre, passing office buildings and heading towards the river Tyne. From the old Vickers Armstrong factory, past Dunston Staithes and onto the iconic bridges.
We made good progress, crossing over the Tyne and stopping for photos on the Millennium Bridge, before our lunch stop at the Cycle Hub on the Quayside.
From here it was an easy run to Tynemouth. We were cycling home, but the rest of the group were still exploring and asking lots of questions about the locations. Past Wallsend and Hadrian’s Wall at Segedunum, over the paths past the Tyne Tunnel and we could smell the sea air. Through the marina and on, down the steep bank to the Fish Quay at North Shields, and out along towards the mouth of the river.
One last sharp rise, up the hill towards Tynemouth Priory and our final stop at the Spanish Battery car park. We’d made it from one coast to the other!
There had been some talk of going on a little further to dip our wheels in the sea at Tynemouth Longsands, but with many of the group having trains and planes to catch, we said our goodbyes, thanked the guides and went our separate ways.
We met a really nice group of people, and it seemed strange to think this was the end of our journey. We wouldn’t be gathering to eat together that evening and share tales of our adventures and wondering how tough the next day would be.
We picked up our bags and walked our bikes the last half or mile or so through the village and home. It felt like a great achievement, a brilliant challenge and a good holiday.
Day 3 of our C2C cycle sees us tackling more climbs, cobbles and leaving Cumbria behind.
A hearty breakfast at Alston House fuelled us for another day’s cycling, starting with a sharp ascent over the cobbles out of the village and up onto Alston Moor.
A morning of steady and almost continuous climbs brought us to Nenthead for our first stop. Cloudless blue skies and rising temperatures had us slapping on the sunscreen for another stunning day in the saddle.
Having managed the cobbled hill first thing, today was the day I felt like I got the hang of climbing in the lowest gear, keeping a steady turn of the pedals and managing to stay in balance while clipped in.
My previous experience had been of shorter hills that I’ve tried to power up, leaving me breathless at the top. Now I understand how to climb on a long day’s cycling and leave myself enough energy for another ten miles. I felt good and strong, just going steady, not pushing too hard on the uphills and enjoying the flats and descents.
We soon passed out of Cumbria and into Northumberland and through the highest point on the route. Seeing the county sign was a signal that we really were making progress towards home.
We stopped near Allenheads for lunch, enjoying a picnic in a field and soaking up some sunshine. The post lunch ride has proved hard to get started each day, and it was the same again. Climbing in bright, hot sunshine out of Allenheads, we were soon up into scrubby moorland with no shade, being challenged by an easterly headwind.
Today we were accompanied by Ollie, a photographer who popped up at regular spots on the route with a still camera and also a flying drone cam. Hearing the buzz of the drone was a great incentive to keep pedaling when the going got tough. With growing confidence in my ability to pedal slowly and not fall over, I didn’t walk at all today.
The electric bikes continued to speed away up the hills, and the remaining human powered crew stuck together until we were offered a choice of routes just after Rookhope – one going up and over on the official route and the other taking a slightly longer but less hilly road to Stanhope.
Three of us opted for the lower route for the last section of the day. It was scorching hot by now and the wind had picked up, so at times, even though we were heading downhill we had to pedal into the wind. It felt like being blasted in a fan oven.
I started to recognise the roads approaching Stanhope from riding the Weardale triathlon route a few years ago. It was a shorter mileage day and we were glad to arrive in the village and find our B&B, before heading into the village for an ice cream. It was a shame that the outdoor pool doesn’t open until the end of May, as it was perfect weather for a dip. But, finding that Janice, our fabulous host at Burnside Brace had carried our bags up to our room for us was an added bonus.
Some of the group opted to get the climb scheduled for the next morning out of the way and continued on to Parkhead station, but after being blasted by the easterly wind and picking up some interesting tan lines in our cycling tops, we opted to tackle it in the morning, hoping for cooler weather.