Saturday 24 May 2014

Ironman Lanzarote - the longest day of my life

 Now where do I start? I have been looking forward to writing this particular blog as much as I have dreaded it. I am still yet to compose my real thoughts and feelings after Ironman Lanzarote a week ago and because of that feel that this post may help me do so. I have no doubt that writing my feelings down about this day will be as emotional as the lead up and day was. Here goes...

 On the day before we flew from Birmingham to Arrecife in Lanzarote my family and I went to a memorial for Rosie in London. This was organised by SUDEP Action, the charity who I am raising money for. This was to celebrate and remember those who had been lost over the last year due to SUDEP. I had also been chosen to read a poem that I had picked during the service in St. James' Church. I hadn't expected to find this morning quite as hard as I did. It was a lovely thing to attend but it did bring so much hurt to my family and resurfaced the unfairness and pain we are all going through. I had tried to remain detached and not cry until I had done my reading. During my reading however I broke down. I picked the poem as the words ring so true of what I feel and the sheer meaning of the words hit me hard. I had to take a few minutes to compose myself whilst I stood in the silent church but I managed to battle on through the poem. We listened to others readings and listened to songs others had chosen to honour their loved ones. It was in these moments that I closed my eyes and thought of Rosie and all of the people in this beautiful place that had suffered such a loss. It truly was a moving moment as well as an unfair one. After the service I was approached by so many lovely people offering their heartfelt congratulations on me completing my reading on what everyone could see was a tough thing to do. I spoke to other mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, grandmothers who had their loved ones taken too soon. Although it was a tough thing to go to it was comforting to know that I, and my family, are not alone in our continued grief. I just want to end with the poem I read;

"Feel no guilt in laughter; she'd know how much you care,
Feel no sorrow in a smile that she is not here to share.
You cannot grieve forever; she would not want you to.
She'd hope you'd carry on the ways you always do. 

So, talk about the good times and the way you showed you cared,
The days you spent together, all the happiness you shared. 
Let memories surround you, a word someone may say
Will suddenly recapture a time, an hour, a day.
That brings her back as clearly as though she were still here,
and fills you with the feeling that she is always near. 

For if you keep those moments, you will never be apart
And she will live forever locked safely within your heart" 

 After the memorial service my parents, Dan and I traveled up to Birmingham ready for our flight early the next morning. After a nice meal we got an early night although I spent the majority of the evening watching Eurovision and dying my hair pink in preparation for the Ironman. The pink hair is my little tradition I do when racing in memory of Rosie. I woke up that morning and leapt out of bed - I was so excited for the next week. I was going to an island I love and I was competing in an event I have always wanted to complete. The anticipation was hard to control. By this point I wasn't nervous I was beyond excited. I was desperate to get involved in the Ironman buzz in Lanzarote on the lead up to the race. Being an island that attracts triathletes for training and being known as the hardest Ironman in the world I was desperate to taste the atmosphere. I was however still very subdued. The reasons I am doing all of this is never far from my mind. Rosie is my inspiration and motivation for all I do and I needed her to be with me during this journey. I was however buzzing and truly was happy especially when I bumped into Twitter friend Lee at the airport (and then had to explain Twitter to my parents). Despite Ironman making me happy and Kona being my goal there is a tragic story behind all I enjoy within triathlon.

 I'm not going to bore you with too many details for once as I know you want to hear about the big day as much as I am looking forward to explaining it. We arrived at midday on the 11th which gave me a full 6 days to prepare and acclimatise before the race. This was spent going on a few heat of the day runs (and boy was it hot especially with a Saharan heatwave making it the hottest it had been in 10 years according to one keen Ironman competitor).
Bella Rosa conquered Mirador
I also did some bike rides up Mirador to assess which bike I was going to use. I decided on Bella Rosa as I was comfortable climbing on her and with my increasing confidence on the tri bars and with the rewarding descents and occasional flats, it meant I could get a good advantage on them. I also did 4 early morning sea swims in the gorgeously clear Puerto Del Carmen sea. One notable experience included hundreds of jellyfish (I just can't seem to get away from them when on a pre-race training swim as I was charmed with their pleasure in Tenby last year). I unluckily got stung 5 times on my hands and feet on that morning but although my scream when being stung near the beach put many people off the stings didn't hang around too long and were just the first war wounds from the trip. I met other Twitter friends during those days and was mostly spotted by my pink hair and when racking, my pink bike. I even met Becky Hoare who was in my age group and who I have written about previously in my blog about being my closest competitor. She was lovely and I am glad we met despite the rivalry we both may have had deep down. I knew even then that Lanzarote was not going to be my time to qualify so I tried to take the pressure off myself and I truly wanted her to succeed. I thought it in the car on the way back the Kona slot couldn't go to a nicer person. In fact when I was struggling during the run my first question to Dan was how is Becky doing. In the end it turned out another girl came in with a cracking time of 11h13 and qualified, both of us couldn't have anticipated that result.
 In those days I was also my support crews taxi as I wasn't drinking. I indulged, on Dan's orders, on pasta and Spanish omelettes and another supporter in my best friend Yuliya arrived on the Thursday.
Carb loading isn't bad when it's like this
Yes I got grouchy and was bad company sometimes in the last few days but that was to be expected and I have been forgiven that those days are the only time I can be a bitch and get away with it. On Friday after racking my bike and kit and being super organised and keen as I one of the first, everything felt surreal - I would be competing in the morning. I didn't feel nervous or that excited. I felt completely neutral, somewhat numb. All of this anticipation, excitement, training, build up physically and mentally just to put your body and mind through hell to cross a line. Furthermore, my reasoning's for what I was doing rung louder than ever that night. This would be the first Ironman I would be doing since Wales. The tragedy that I discovered after crossing that line has obviously left a mark and had left me worried about the next. I couldn't help but be quietly superstitious and hoped for everyone else's safety not just mine.  At 8pm whilst eating dinner I said quietly to Dan, "I should be finishing this time tomorrow" (little did I know I would still be going for a few hours after).
 As I lay in bed I made a wish to Rosie. I prayed for calm winds and for her to watch over me, little did I know it was solely her beautiful face that would get me round that brutal course.

Organised for once
The calm before the storm

The morning of Ironman Lanzarote:
 I was up just before 5am and forced some porridge and toast down my neck. I then got down to transition nice and early. It seemed to be the darkest it had been all week at 6am, was this a good sign? The buzz down in transition was electrifying. A silent excitement lingered amongst all competitors. I bumped into Becky and wished her good luck and even saw the British woman pro Lucy Gossage. I wished her good luck too as I really was rooting for her.

Race day morning in transition
The Swim (2.4miles);
 Before I knew it I was heading down to the swim start banners. Unusually they had signs for predicted swim times. I tried to get into the 60-65 as my aimed time was 1h08 and had a plan to draft and just stick on someone elses feet. However, I couldn't push my way through all the other bodies as I was surrounded by others who all seemed to be men and a lot bigger than me. Being one of only 184 women out of 2,300 competitors it was hardly surprising and I could see I was outnumbered as the men were wearing orange swim hats whereas I stood out in my pink one. I then heard my name and saw my parents there wishing me good luck. I gave my mum a hug and the tears I had been trying to hold in began to flow. All I was thinking when standing in that mosh pit of people was that I wished Rosie could see me and keep me safe. I felt unbelievably small and sensitive. When I came out of my embrace some of the men around me patted me to ask if I was OK and I got back to focussing on the long day I had ahead of me. Before I knew it the horn had sounded and I was running into the water for the 2.4mile swim. The day had begun.

Before the tears
 I have done many open water triathlons including some in the sea so know full well the brutality of swim starts. I have taken many blows from peoples feet, hands and given my fair share back. I have seen others suffer badly by being dunked under the water and swum over, so much so they had to stop there and then. However, this swim was the worst I have ever encountered. The kindness I received when shedding my tears on land had vanished when we entered the water. I remember thinking to myself these people are savages. Being relatively near the front and being in the middle I normally always expect to get the most hassle but this was on another level. By 100m I had been kicked square in the face and by 300m I had been elbowed hard in the eye nearly knocking my goggles off. Throughout the first lap I had people grab at my feet and try and pull me back and I got pushed into the ropes so much so I had cuts all over my hands from the sharp creatures that made home on them. I also took many hits to the feet I later found as I had bruises all over them. It was the most unenjoyable swim I have ever done and I couldn't wait for it to be over. I didn't however just take the barrage of abuse, when someone went to grab me I would kick my feet as hard as I could knowing full well I was giving them a kick to the face - they didn't try again though. I said to myself, "just because I'm a chick doesn't mean I can't give it back". I finished the first lap in 34 minutes as I had wanted and ran the 100m around the beach and jumped back in the sea for the second lap. This lap was not much calmer but I had a few spells of clear sea ahead of me even if they were short lived. I saw no jellyfish although I wouldn't have seen them or felt them with the other abuse I was taking. I disappointingly got a slower time on the second lap which is uncommon for me and finished the second lap in 39minutes bringing my total swim to 1h13m. When I found out about this post race I was seriously upset as this was slower than Wales and not what I had predicted and nowhere near my best. I know some may be over the moon with that time but as swimming is my best discipline that really disappointed me.

The Bike (112miles);
 Transition included changing on the beach and running up a small sandy hill to my bike. Grabbed my bike and set off. Within seconds after crossing the mount line I had come off. The chain had come off and had tangled around the rear dérailleur. I was seriously flapping and told myself to calm down which was hard to do considering there were so many spectators looking at my every move and feeling sorry for my despair. The mechanic came running over and set me on my way - his composed attitude and knowledge made me look stupid but I was glad I could move on. Seeing others that were behind me get going before me was so frustrating but I told myself, "it's only 5 minutes push on". The bike did not go to plan, in fact the whole event didn't, but I struggled then and I am still struggling now to focus on any particular factors as to why. My bike computer which was working the day before now decided it didn't want to let me know my speed and then after 10 minutes of cycling my Garmin bleeped to tell me it had low battery. I have relied on my cadence, speed and heart rate when training to determine my effort and without this I felt lost. When struggling I use these to indicate my effort and if I drop I can kick myself up the arse as I know my potential. It's no excuse as to what went wrong but it was definitely a factor and a pure sign of how much I and many triathletes rely on technology. I do feel despite some peoples scepticism this played a huge part of my slower bike leg. One hour into the bike my Garmin failed and I was purely going by feel, something I haven't done since my training became serious. Annoyingly there were no bike splits recorded by Ironman so I cannot tell when I began to falter but I felt strong on the first 40km. I had the occasional person overtaking me but I was with a consistent group and taking full advantage of any downhill sections. I felt good and was on my bars feeling comfortable. One thing I did get a lot was comments on my bike, I heard of lot of, "Nice bike!".
 I enjoyed the ride around El Golfo - this is the first undulating section and the views along the coast of the waves crashing into the cliffs were sublime, this was definitely some respite from the heat, wind and achy legs. After coming out of this loop it was the first big climb up Fire Mountains and Timanfaya. This is where I began to feel uncomfortable and I was sure something else was to blame than just going uphill. My legs burned and my head was angry as to why I was finding this so damn tough. Once the top was reached I was rewarded with a down that I took full advantage of and passed many when doing so. I thought at this point, "Who would've ever thought little scared old me would be zooming downhill past others" a sure sign that my confidence on the bike was returning (and yes mum I was doing it safely and controlled!). Once Fire Mountains were covered it was relatively flat towards La Santa. I saw my support crew consisting of my parents, their friends Peter and Bridget, Dan and Yuliya just before my favourite Lanzarote town of Tinajo - I needed this boost and booted it down hill all the way to La Santa. It was here however that my Dad noted I looked really low on the bike. Welcome factor number 2; after finishing I found out my seat post had moved all the way down to the bottom. This meant I did nearly 180km in a completely different position to which I had been used to - this would explain my discomfort. I had been using completely different muscles than I had throughout my training. My dad asked afterwards why didn't I notice this? In hindsight yes, it does seem like a stupid thing to miss but in race conditions you are not looking for things that have gone wrong. This is however one of the things that has frustrated me the most - would it have been different if I had noticed this simple thing mid race? I have tried not dwell on this too much even though it is tough.
  I was confident on the road from Tinajo to La Santa as I did it many times when training at Club La Santa 2 months previous. After getting to La Santa the ascends started again and I really did feel uncomfortable when climbing. Why could I not push any harder? My legs burned. I saw my supporters again and they looked surprised to see me so soon after my quick efforts to La Santa. Shortly after seeing them in Soo I got off the bike to check what was going on. I was angry, frustrated, tired and annoyed. I was ascending yes, of course I bloody was I was doing the hardest Ironman in the world, but I thought if I am struggling now how the hell would I do the toughest climb towards Mirador at the top of the island?! That's when I realised my rear brake pad was rubbing. I had replaced both my tubular tyres with the claimed 'puncture-proof' Continental Gatorskins as the front one blew pre race and the rear was an extra precaution. These tyres were actually thicker than my previous ones and of course I had checked this by doing a pre race ride on the Friday and also included it in final checks on race morning. Obviously riding for a longer period of time, or being longer in the heat caused things to move. Luckily I spotted a mechanic ahead and he fixed positioning of the brakes for me. I kept plugging on and yes things did get easier...for a little bit anyway but the worst was yet to come.
 I have climbed Mirador Del Rio many times now so knew I could do that climb. The climb I was dreading was Los Nieves at 105km which is actually higher than Mirador Del Rio and the highest point on the route at nearly 700m. This was a winding ascend that just looks brutal - even the car moaned when doing a recce of the route. I was seriously struggling mentally by this point. I didn't feel it but I'm sure I was hot and bothered. I needed help and I called upon Rosie here big time. I said to her, "Come on darling, I need you now". I'm sure she did something as I managed to get up but I know it wasn't a dignified or respectable effort. At the top it was sharp hairpin descent that I joked to someone was the bit my mum was dreading (she actually regretted having seen this part of the route when my dad pointed out it was included). This downhill was into Haria and then it was up again to Mirador Del Rio. It was so demoralising loosing all the height I just fought so hard to get up. I was very cautious on this section but I wasn't a granny about it. There was a small climb getting to the bottom of Mirador Del Rio that felt impossible and burned hard but I managed to make it up to Mirador. It was hot and windy at the top but the views and relief when there was overwhelming. I had told myself that once I was there it was the home straight (just a 70km home straight). After Mirador there was a lovely 10km of downhill that I absolutely booted however, that does not mean I wasn't struggling. I was seriously low mentally. I had cried many times thinking about Rosie up to that point but I broke down here. I was angry I was struggling so bad and I was angry I would never see Rosie's face again. I needed her strength more than ever but then came someone else's help. My brother in law, Des, is a bit of joker. His words of advice to me the night before the race was, "Remember, when the going gets tough just think 'What would Des do?". So I did exactly that and I thought he would make light of the situation; make a joke or most likely a song out of it. That is what I did. For some reason I had 'Daisy Bell (bicycle made for two)' stuck in my head on repeat so I decided to change the lyrics. This managed to distract me and 15kms and many tears later I had the finished article, sing it along with the tune (if you don't know it Youtube - it does work!);

"Rosie Posie, help me along please do,
I'm fucking struggling all for my love of you.

It's hot and windy in Lanzarote,
and I'm so bloody smelly.

But I know you'll, be watching too
with a cocktail made for two"

I used this tune whenever I was struggling from then on (which was often). I sang it aloud, in my head, even on repeat sometimes. I struggled to get past 'Rosie, Posie' before I broke down in tears sometimes but it kept me going. Those final kilometres dragged and I honestly can't remember them all, I just remember it not as easy as I had thought it would be. I did however just go into autopilot when slogging uphill. When I hit 175km I was elated...I just had a marathon to run...
 When cycling the final stretch along the Puerto Del Carmen strip to transition I saw people on the run and the atmosphere was immense. This was helped when I saw Lucy Gossage running down the finishing chute with the British flag wrapped around her body - she had won Ironman Lanzarote. I may not have had my day but she had had hers - the tears began to flow again and I shouted 'Well done Lucy'. In that single moment I was calm and proud to be British. Pain was about to kick off though, I was off the bike in a shocking 8h19mins and onto the run.

The Run (26.2miles);
 As soon as I got off that bike I knew it was going to be the hardest run/jog/shuffle of my life, scratch my previous blog this would be the hardest marathon of my life hands down! I was not wrong. I had a dismal transition of nearly 10 minutes and I can't remember much of that marathon due to the state of me mentally and physically. I was angry. My knees hurt with every landing and it felt as though someone was stabbing me underneath my patella every time I hit the ground. I also had no Garmin and I really rely on it when running to keep me in check. I had hoped I would've seen Dan before I got to the run so I could have given him my Garmin to charge for an hour. No such luck. I had however changed tactics when I lost all my technology and when was seriously struggling on the bike. I took it that it was fate that everything failed and I was meant to do this race to feel (which by this point was horrible). My new tactic became, just get around in one piece. I took it that that is what Rosie wanted so when I started on my first steps on the run that was the sole goal of the day.
 The run was 2 laps of 15km (out to the airport and back) and then one lap of 10km (5km and back). You got your band to signify you had done a lap right by the finish line. You therefore passed the buzzing Carmen strip for 1km six times as it was at the beginning of the route. These bits were a huge motivational lift and what I craved. However, the same cannot be said for the rest of the route. After the strip it was de-motivational and boring. The end of the first 2 laps ran alongside the airport and every time a plane took off the sand would whip against my legs. As my plod continued I got weaker, was this ever going to end? When I saw Yuliya and Dan at the special aid station where they could give me personal food I think they knew I didn't look good, they later told me they were worried about me. I hadn't seen them on lap 1 when I really wanted to see a friendly face but saw them when I had my first band around my arm. I was drained and dreading the lonely road back to the airport again. By this point I wasn't just tired and fed up I was in pain. Whilst on the bike I got a pain in my upper back/neck that was causing me a lot of discomfort when getting on the aero bars (could well be because of my seat post issue and new unwanted positioning). This was excruciating on the run and I knew from previous pain it was a trapped nerve. The only thing that was of any relief was to put a cold sponge on the area with ice wrapped around it to keep it cool. I also massaged it and kept my head down when possible as holding it up was increasing the pain. This method of keeping the area cold began to get hard when the weather dropped as it does in Lanzarote, it is really like a desert. I was plodding along yet shivering. On my final lap I kept my head down and avoided everyone at the aid stations. Their kindness and willingness to help was lovely but I didn't want sympathy, help, drinks or food, I merely wanted it to be over. I kept smiling at other competitors when I saw them especially when I knew them be that from before the event or from recognising them. None looked as despairing as I felt but I know everyone was struggling, so Lee, Paula, Adrian, Hannah, Leeky and Michelle, great work! My parents even ran alongside me in their flip flops on some occasions and said how proud they were. Those words meant so much to me. I was desperate to be quicker, I was desperate to show them how hard I had trained but everything felt horrendous. I felt like I had let them down. They had put so much into this trip and I could merely shuffle myself along.
 I made a Spanish companion in the final 3km which truly shows the camaraderie and how special Ironman is that in our shared understanding of pain and desperation to finish all language barriers disappeared and we just ran in silence together only occasionally speaking the odd word to one another that we could understand. I picked up my plod in the final 1km of the strip and high fived spectators as I came into the finishing chute. My eyes welled up and I saw my parents on my right. I was so relieved to be sticking to the left hand side of the barrier to the finish as opposed to going right and getting another band and doing another lap. I sprinted to the finish wishing that Rosie could be there to share this moment with me especially as you are allowed to run across the line with family members in this particular Ironman. I just had to hope she was watching me from wherever she was drinking her cocktail (for two). I crossed the line and sighed. I wasn't proud, I was just relieved. Those were the longest 15hours and 47 minutes of my life. I was completely numb, it wasn't euphoric, it wasn't amazing, it was just over. The tears that had been so ready to flow just disappeared and my supporters all came and congratulated me. I was completely emotionless.
 That night was a blur. I had the obligatory beer, collected my stuff, chatted to Yuliya and Dan at the villa and had an uncomfortable achy sleep. All I cared about was that it was over.

Finishers beer
The aftermath:
 I need to first of all say a HUGE thank you to my supporters. Of course the people that were there had a long, hot and emotional day so I cannot thank you enough for standing in the heat cheering me along and running with me when needed. Seeing your familiar faces when the times got tough was so uplifting. I do also know my family at home went through the same emotional turmoil, even though it wasnt quite as hot! I was bombarded with notifications on Facebook and Twitter and I honestly did not have time to say thank you personally to you all but that does not mean I am not grateful for your support. I couldn't explain everything I felt that night and wanted to enjoy the last few days I had in Lanzarote. So thank you to everyone who spectated, supported, wished me luck and congratulated me last Saturday, I am so humbled.

 My final days in Lanzarote consisted of sightseeing. I drove the whole island as opposed to cycle it with Dan and Yuliya. We went to Mirador and Timanfaya, hunted for gemstones in El Golfo, ate waffles, did some wine tasting, went on a camel, explored some caves and went to the cactus garden. I got pissed on a boat, went on a jet ski, snorkelled and most importantly drank cocktails until 3am.

Selfie with the camel I named Don Juan
First night out
This is recovery right?
Cheers!
 One poignant moment that happened in those days was hear the song 'Over the Rainbow' sung by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole whilst in a supermarket. This was played at Rosie's funeral and means a lot to me and my family for everything it signifies. It is not a common song and it gave me goosebumps just being there for the duration of the song. It was comforting and to me meant Rosie was watching. It was her way of saying, I'm here, you did good.

 My feelings now are yes, things didn't go to plan but I got round when things really were rotten. Never once did I consider quitting but I found it harder than I ever thought I would. I have said never again to Ironman Lanzarote and I really do think I mean that. Some say Wales is harder, I argue opposite. I was 1 hour 46 minutes slower than Wales. I am not un-fitter as my timings leading up to the race all show PB's. Maybe Wales just works better for me? Maybe the heat hit me more than I thought? (And I realise throughout this post I may have underestimated how hot it really was). Maybe I did my nutrition wrong? Maybe all the little factors added up (back, saddle, tech, knees, head, nutrition)? Maybe this was how it was meant to be and it was just not my day? I have and will continue to think of these over and over again in my head, however I am pleased to say I have completed the hardest two Ironman's in the world and I shall be going back to Lanzarote to train but not to compete. As an island I absolutely love Lanzarote and it is one of the few places I could live permanantly. I saw, I went, I conquered, onto the next event. My mission to Kona has gone nowhere, in fact I am more determined than ever to get there, for me but most importantly for Rosie. I know it was her spirit and strength that got me around that course. I have a good suspicion that this race will make be stronger. Over and out - bring it on Wales!

Friday 9 May 2014

MK Marathon - the final countdown to Ironman Lanzarote

 After my motivational PB swim on Saturday I was craving a motivational marathon time to boost me for Ironman Lanzarote. As I mentioned in my previous blog I will always include a marathon in my Ironman training. This may be a mental decision more than a physical one as I personally need to know that I have got that mileage in my legs so I know I can do it. Seeing as an Ironman or any endurance event is half mental I really don't have to justify it any more than that to anyone. I do admit that twelve days before an Ironman isn't ideal but it had to be done. With this ideology I will also be looking at doing another one in summer before Ironman Wales.
My first, but definitely not last, marathon of the year
This contraption (paper) on my trainers is actually a timing chip! 
 I went into bank holiday Monday with a positive mindset. I prepared all my kit the night before and then unfortunately had a rubbish nights sleep. This always annoys me as when I eventually doze off  it then seems impossible to wake up again. Getting out of bed was tough and I muted my alarms too many times until I had none left. I was lucky I even got up in time to make it to the marathon! This late start meant I missed meeting up with some Twitter friends that I had agreed to meet, sorry, and didn't have time to have my trusty porridge. I was not that worried about missing my porridge as although I rely on it heavily, recently it hasn't boded too well. Without sounding too crude my pre race nerves mean I don't actually gain much energy from it so wanted to trial another pre-race breakfast. I didn't really have much choice as I only had the motorway services to make my selection. I had thought a bacon sandwich may be a good shout but decided against that as was unsure how much grease there would be in it (I am a cut the fat and then dab the oil off kinda girl). I played it safe(ish) and went for my favourite sandwich, ham and mustard, with a blueberry muffin and coffee. If I didn't stomach the food at least I had some caffeine for energy to start the morning off. When I arrived near the stadium in Milton Keynes where the start was I parked in an industrial estate and walked to the stadium. The race started at 10am and I arrived at 9.30am. I had my bag to drop off and by that point needed the toilet. I would have no time to think before running - just the way I like it especially as I had travelled to the event alone. This thought made me laugh, the amount of events I have done now has meant that running 26.2 miles is 'just a marathon'. I later found out that I craved support during this event and figured that no matter how many marathons you have done they never get any easier (this was my 5th). I can't be critical however as my mum had offered to come and support me despite being 2 hours away. As much as I wanted to say yes the night before I declined as didn't want her to travel all that way and brushed it off saying, "it's only 4 and a half hours, you'll have 17 hours of spectating in 2 weeks time!". I am so grateful to all of my spectators throughout the years and feel guilty they use their day cheering me on. I managed to put my bag and go to the toilet with 10 minutes spare to get to the start line which I got to with 5 minutes to go. I spoke to a few other competitors and then heard the 10 second countdown. I had gone into the race with the intention of getting a 4h30 time. I wanted to hit 10 minute miles consistently as that is my comfortable pace. For some reason as soon as I crossed the line I began to get emotional and was trying to push back the tears which had already began to fall caused a pet lip. I don't know why this happened but it may have been a combination of a tough emotional week after Rosie's birthday, London to Paris, little sleep, being alone and the constant reminder during events what the story behind me running is. I also did something I never do during this particular marathon; I used my earphones so I could listen to music. I normally begrudge people who use these claiming that you should take in the atmosphere. I also never use these during events, including marathons, as I cannot do so during a triathlon. My only exception to this rule was obviously now and when doing interval sessions at the gym. Today however I felt that I may need some music to boost me on. That said I only put one ear in and was merely to focus me. What did really break me down early on was the first song that came on when I shuffled my music was a song that reminds me of the day I found out about Rosie's death. I didn't know whether to smile or cry so what I did is grimace look at my Garmin and focus on hitting my 6min/km splits.
 The beginning of the route wasn't particularly exciting, as some may know Milton Keynes is full of roundabouts and the first 10 miles was spent on dual carriageways and slogs uphill to the next roundabout and then doubling back. This meant that I could see other competitors on the other side of the road and I kept an eye out in case I recognised anyone as know some Twitter followers were doing this event. With my Hollie4Kona running top on I would be easy enough to spot. Even within the first few miles I felt uncomfortable, not with my pace but with my stomach. I felt bloated and sick yet needed energy. On top of that the weather was scorching and although this was what I wanted in a way as training for Lanzarote there was no wind and the UK heat always seems so suffocating. The boringness of the course and me being so uncomfortable made me dread the thought of this being a 2 lap course, thankfully it wasn't and at mile 10 the marathon route turned off while the half marathon runners made their way to the finish. Never before had I been so tempted to continue straight on and 'pretend' I had accidentally missed the turning but no matter how bad I felt I was seeing this through (for a little longer anyway) - I am no quitter and I would only be cheating myself. It was at this point I bumped into a fellow runner who actually wanted to talk to me! (I had grown tired of my earphones by this point, the conflicting beats were affecting my pace). I ended up staying with this particular runner, Mike and his partner, Amanda, for the next 11 miles. I was still keeping my pace but was struggling even more by this point. At the 9 mile point I was thirsty and needed energy. Although my stomach turned its head up at the thought of such a thing I attempted a gel and spat it out and then walked through the aid station to glug back a whole bottle of water and Gatorade - in hindsight this made it worse. So by mile 11 I was suffering and although my pace was still on track I was feeling rough.
Me around mile 17 with Mike & Amanda (in red)
 I spoke to Mike for a few miles about my story, work, training and his and Amanda's desire to complete an Ironman. He was a 3h30 marathon runner and pace maker and this was his 19th marathon. He was running at my slower pace as his partner Amanda, who was a few metres behind was doing her first marathon. I was enjoying talking and was really grateful I had some company at this point. I was however finding it increasingly tough to stick to my pace and I began to slack. However I still managed to hit my desired 2h10 marathon time - I just had to keep the pace up in order to get my wanted 4h30 finish, something I knew even at that point would be tough. By this time I had spat out another gel but was pushing on through. I also had the company of Amanda now and although was slowing the pace found it my knew mission to get me and her round in one piece especially as she was struggling too. We spoke about Ironman, bikes, holidays, and aspirations. It really is amazing that running can bring people together. We even got quite deep and spoke about how we only have one life and you need to do what you enjoy and what is enriching. We spoke about our own previous battles in our lives which is pushing ourselves beyond what is comfortable. Around mile 15 I had decided on a new strategy, this was to keep drinking water with the aim to try and flush anything swirling in my stomach out. Over time it began to have a positive effect and always ran with a water bottle from that point taking sips every so often. This is a strategy I can turn to in Lanzarote if need be. At mile 19 my new companions decided we should play a game. This was to go through the alphabet naming a band or singer - it nicely bided some time and distracted us from the discomfort. Amanda was looking forward to hitting the 20 mile point, as was I, as this meant we were 10km to the finish which as I worked out was about an hour. I normally speed up at this point but still did not have it in me. At mile 21 though I did. The pace I was running with Amanda was getting a increasingly slower and my bloated stomach had subsided somewhat so decided to pick it up. I felt bad for leaving especially as she had helped me as much as I had her but I needed to push on for my own mentality.
 Although I came alone and had no spectators per se my coach Mark was there supporting the runners and his clients, such as me. I had seen him twice before, once at mile 7 which was very much needed for my morale and was great as I got a big cheer from Mark's wife Clare. It was great to see a friendly face and it really spurred me on especially as I was struggling. I also saw him again around mile 17 when I was in the middle of my despairing period and again it was great to see him. The course from around 16 to the finish was that lovely word 'undulating' and this was down underpasses and back up, this really took a toll on my energy, morale and legs. However during my 'good' phase (mile 21-finish) I saw Mark again around mile 23. He ran with me and told me that BBC Three Counties were around the corner and wondered if I wanted to do an interview with them. I said I would but I wasn't stopping so that's what happened. I spoke about my story and about Rosie. With this extra bit of excitement I really picked it up and pushed hard to the finish.

Running and talking live to BBC Three Counties radio
"I'll talk but I'm not stopping!"
Rounding off into the stadium I began getting emotional as it reminded me of the Reading half that I did with my sister Emma. I pushed on for a sprint and finished (Garmin time) in 4h42. I was relieved as at one point I never thought I would get there given my struggles early on in the race. Yes I was 12 minutes over my desired time, but it was still not a bad time and I kept running, I overcame sickness and have learnt from it. I couldn't help think for a second what if I wasn't ill? But I admitted I had a bad blip and recovered from it. Furthermore I kept someone else company and helped them on their road to becoming an endurance athlete. I did all this in under 5 hours. Mark came running over to me at the finish and gave me a big hug and said how proud he was. In that moment I was certain I had made the right choice when picking my coach, he truly cares about me as well as my success. I had a picture by the finish line (although the time is 10 minutes after a finished because I was hanging about to see Amanda and Mike come in). I saw Amanda become a marathon runner and she did so in under 5 hours. I was so so happy for her and apologised for running off as well as thanking her for her company. I wished both her and Mike luck in becomnig Ironmen.
At the finish
 So I hobbled back to my car with my lovely shiney around my neck. I was pretty emotional throughout this day as you may have guessed but now I really was. I began to cry and think. For the first time I was actually proud of myself. This marathon really tested me and I truly felt like I deserved the medal I received that day. On top of that I have learnt from it and can take this with me to Lanzarote, especially if I begin to feel sick again. I spoke to my mum and my sister on the phone and then drove back.
 When I got back I spoke to Mark about how I was feeling and where to go from now into Ironman Lanzarote. He also mentioned that every time he saw me during the marathon I had a good run technique, I would never have thought I would hear this considering my background in running. Shows how far I have come and what I have learnt from Mark. Apparently I kept good form through to the finish. After that chat he sent me a message saying "Just done a really fast 10km, thanks for the inspiration". I can't even begin to imagine what his normal pace is let alone his fast but I was truly honoured to think I could have inspired someone like Mark who has achieved so much in the endurance world.
 Even if I will always describe that event as horrible I will always remember the eventual result and day as a positive one.
Me and my well earned medal
 So these will be the last few words I shall write here before Ironman Lanzarote. I want to thank everyone for their continued support, whether that be friends, family, spectators and online followers. Your support has kept me going and made me feel like my goal is worth fighting for and achievable. I fly to Lanzarote early on Sunday morning and then I have 6 days there before the main event and then 5 days after to drink cocktails! This half of the journey has been tough emotionally and physically. I have sacrificed a lot to even be considering competing in Lanzarote. So what do I aim to achieve there? My best friend who is joining me out there said to not put too much pressure on myself even with what I want to really achieve and I mean it when I say, I honestly just want to enjoy the race and the atmosphere pre, and most importantly, post event. I never got the chance to take in the sheer joy, pride and mutual camaraderie I expect there to be at the finish line of an Ironman due to tragic circumstances I was put in last September. I therefore hope I can throw myself into that experience this year. I have no doubt in my mind it will be emotional. I have held a lot in and training has always been for an emotional cause. During those tough 112 miles on the bike I am sure many tears will be shed when thinking why I am doing what I am doing. Ironman Lanzarote I am ready for you and I will be doing it all for Rosie, my inspiration and my motivation. I hope I make you proud.

Wednesday 7 May 2014

Nothing great is easy

 After returning from Paris on the 29th I didn't have much time until things were back to normal. I was doing two night shifts on the Wednesday and Thursday which flew by as I finished series 2 of 'The Following'. Of course I did some work too even though I am just Sky News' security blanket for any breaking news that happens overnight. The upcoming weekend was my first free weekend in a long time especially after a mammoth stint of shifts in the weeks previous. This was also the bank holiday weekend and although that means nothing to me in my line of work I had taken the Monday off as well as I was doing the Milton Keynes marathon then. This would be my last event before Ironman Lanzarote. Some people may argue I am mad, stupid or just plain idiotic to be doing a marathon (which obviously takes a lot of out the body) just 12 days before an Ironman but it works for me mentally. I know from my previous efforts I can hack it physically and needed the challenge mentally as much as I felt I needed it physically. I wanted the miles in my legs and mentally I wanted to test myself and see any improvements. I personally will always compete in a marathon before an Ironman as part of my training although many do not see it essential. It works for me so doubters please respect my training as much as I do yours.

 Anyway, before I delve into my efforts in Milton Keynes on bank holiday Monday I first want to outline an exciting experience on the Saturday. I explained in my previous blog about my first non-wetsuit open water swim as part of my training for swimming the Channel. The next part of this preparation was to go down to Dover, meet everyone down there and swim in the sea non-wetsuit. We would also have to go through the ordeal of swimming for 30 minutes, getting out and changed within 10 minutes, warming up as much as possible for 30 minutes and then getting back in the water again for a further 30 minutes. I was dreading this experience and actually feared it on the lead up to it. On the day however I managed to surprise myself as I loved it. I was told my Gill who had already swam the Channel as a relay member that going to Dover was an experience in itself. I would get to meet Freda who can simply be called a character. She sits on the beach and overlooks all the swimmers, normally always sporting a cigarette. She is stern and you do what she says, no more and no less. We arrived at 9am, we, as relay swimmers were due to swim at 10am. We also had to sign up and get our membership card whilst on the beach. The solo swimmers were just about to head in the water when we got to the beach and there was a shared instant respect to all of them (only one was wearing a wetsuit). One thing I will say is I was surprised at the size of some of them. I know body fat is essential when doing a solo Channel crossing but some of them were really big, but who am I to judge, I respected them all for even accepting the challenge. I have always wanted to swim the channel solo but in that moment I confirmed that one day I will. The sun was starting to shine and it really looked like it was going to be a lovely day made even better that we were by the sea. I was in high spirits and my fear had turned to excitement, I couldn't wait to get in the water!

Starting to look like a beautiful day for a sea swim!
We all registered and then I bought a new swim hat. It is a rule that all solo swimmers have to wear a red swim hat and all the relay swimmers have to wear a yellow swim hat. Now I have accumulated many swim hats over the years in my events but I have never received a yellow one. I did search around town the day before for yellow one as I didn't want to leave it until I was on the beach but had no luck. I was actually quite pleased I didn't find one the day before as this swim hat has become my new favourite (even over my Ironman Wales one which I wear with pride). The quote on the swim hat is "Nothing great is easy" and was said by Captain Matthew Webb, the first person to ever swim the Channel. It is a simple quote but really hit home to me and considering everything I aim to achieve it really is fitting. The picture below is now the background on my phone so I am always reminded of this quote that means so much.

My new favourite quote and swim hat

We of course had to do some posing and had some obligatory pictures on the beach with our team hoodies on that I had organised (thank you to my friend Clare for designing The Salty Seals logo).

The Salty Seals Channel Swim Team (bar one)

Me 'posing'
After that it was time to get ready. Although the sun was really starting to shine there was still a cold air. We were called over by Freda and told to do a 30 minute swim - out to the furthest wall and back and if this took quicker than 30 minutes - do it again. Our shivering bodies walked down beach to the sea. There were about 20 of us in total, a pretty shoddy turn out considering this was the first swim of the season in Dover and last year we were told there were about 200 people. One woman thought the lack of people could be lack of money as swimming the Channel is not cheap even within a relay. I wasn't the first of the pack to get in but I wasn't the last. As expected at 10.5 degrees the weather was cold. I waded in until I was waist high. I always find getting my chest in the hardest bit but before a wave took away my autonomy I dived in and whilst doing so closed my eyes and said to myself 'For Rosie'. I quickly began overtaking others who had got in a few seconds before me and swam comfortably. I am used to swimming in the sea and although the waves sometimes caught me out and I got a mouthful of dirty salty water I was enjoying myself. This is what open water swimming is really about. You are alone getting into your own breathing rhythm, listening and watching the waves crash around you feeling completely at one with yourself. This is the perfect time to think about life. It was a real moment of calm and serenity. I thought about Rosie without getting upset, I was in a flashback of my own life looking back on us curling our hair together, cutting barbies' hair, running around supermarkets, singing and reading together, and then stroking each others backs after a hard day of playing. It is amazing that swimming has the power to do this and I am truly blessed it has this effect on me. My parents have been concerned that I am doing too much this year and could have done without the Channel swim crossing. However, I could justify every sacrifice I would be making to do this training after that 30 minute swim. I ended up being the second to last one out as I and another went the furthest by doing the loop twice and coming out in 34 minutes. My Garmin told me that it was the distance of a half Ironman swim. 34 minutes without even trying, with no wetsuit for buoyancy or heat, with no drafting off other competitors and in the sea - I would take that!
 I would be lying if I said I wasn't cold though. I stumbled getting my shoes on to walk up to my fellow team mates and had an unfortunate fall right where a camera was filming - Bridget Jones moment, hope that doesn't make the cut! When I got back to my group I changed into my second swimming costume, replaced my swim hat with a woolly hat and put my tracksuit on within 5 minutes. The feared shakes were due to start at any time so I went for a run with another team mate to try and avoid them. I didn't seem to shake that bad, my mood  and energy was still high and I kept moving on the spot and singing to keep warm. Some members fell asleep and went into their own world, for me I have to go the other way to keep motivated. The solo swimmers went off again shortly after and then it was our queue to go in again. I was excited to give it a second go and after our instructions by Freda to go in for 35 minutes this time we were on our way. Some of my team were struggling, one woman in particular had planned to only go in again for 20 minutes but considering how much she was shivering fair play to her for having the determination to get in again. I was one of the first in the water this time and quick to speed off. This time I did one long loop and a second shorter and again was the second to last out of the water clocking over a half Ironman distance time in 38 minutes. This really was awesome as I really was comfortable. Again I got changed and we all then we all went to get coffee together. I obviously didn't have a normal body temperature but I wasn't a shivering wreck and only really struggled with my feet being numb. I was shaking my leg merely to try and get some sense to the ice blocks at the end of my legs. I always knew I had bad circulation in my feet - can't be much body fat there as there is every else! We all finished our coffees and headed our way back. I was sharing a lift with Gill and another team mate, Dave. Swimming was the main focus of our conversation on the way back and at one point got particularly irate about Davina Mccall's open water attempts in her latest sports relief challenge that was broadcast. We all agreed, somewhat angrily, that she and her team were stupid to even have done such a thing in Lake Windermere at that time of year especially as she isn't a strong or acclimatised swimmer. We all couldn't understand what she achieved out of it except for make a bad reputation for open water swimming and put herself in danger. Again much like doing a marathon 12 days before an Ironman many will disagree with me here, but the subject angers me.

 The day was a success. My overall stats led to a PB over an Ironman distance swim of 1h06. This was a huge 5 minute improvement on Wales and obviously this time it was without a wetsuit and in colder water. This was a huge boost to take with me to Lanzarote. I told Mark, my coach, and he was really happy. It proved that the hard work and early morning starts training were paying off.
 On the way back I did begin to get low and my sister seemed so too so I decided to drive down and see my mum and sister that night. It was lovely to spend some one-on-one time with each of them. On the Sunday I saw Mark and he fixed my tyre and gave me a tutorial of how to fix it. We also went out for a ride and I learnt some technical tips when using Bella Rosa. I was going to go into the Milton Keynes marathon on this blog too but I have babbled about swimming too much so shall make a separate post for that. To be continued...
             

Tuesday 6 May 2014

London to Paris, a blip in the road and my reflections on fate

 After receiving my new Planet X bike I had a decision to make about which one I was going to ride in Lanzarote. I wanted to use Bella Rosa, one because she is sexy may actually be part of the bike porn at an Ironman event. Secondly because if I was confident enough a TT bike can reduce an Ironman bike leg if there are enough downhill and flats to take advantage of when on the aero bars. On the flip side of this it is said that cycling up hill on a TT bike is harder (the tour de France guys ride road bikes for that reason). Another factor was that I hadn't ridden Bella Rosa for a long distance so how would I know I would be comfortable for that long whereas I knew that I had done that distance on my trusty Giant road bike. On this note, I was also told that it takes the muscles 6 weeks to get used to the new positioning of a TT bike. My last concern was the weather conditions of Lanzarote. Ironman Lanzarote is feared for its crosswinds more so than it's heat or mountains. My TT bike has rimmed wheels which means that there is more surface area for the wind to catch and in theory knock me off. So for me it was a case of weighing up all these opposing factors. My mind however was already hatching a plan. The only objective way for me to make the best decision for my performance was to take both of my bikes out there. This way I could assess the weather conditions the week before and trial both bikes climbing and descending. A few phone calls and all was arranged - I was being greedy and taking both of my lovely bikes with me to Lanza. I explained my qualms to my new Planet X contact Paul about just taking Bella Rosa and he understood. By taking both even if I do decide the road bike suits me better then I will not be letting my new sponsors down as I will have many pictures of me riding Bella Rosa in Lanzarote. In an ideal world I will be confident enough to gain the advantage I can on Bella Rosa but time will tell in the lead up week to race day on the 17th May.
 My next 'what bike?' decision I had to make was which bike would I ride on when doing my London to Paris in 24hrs adventure on Monday 27th April. The colleague I was going with was adamant I should take Bella Rosa, and Mark, my coach was swayed more towards my trusty steed road bike. I was sat completely on the fence. I trusted my road bike, she has done many miles and never let me down (bar the rubbing brake pad a few weeks back but that was a minor issue and I forgave her). Bella Rosa was shiny and new but was a risk. Doing 190 miles on a brand new bike which has a different geometry was of course a gamble. However, my main issue was that the tyres were tubulars - basically they are attached to the wheel. This obviously posed another huge risk, if I punctured it would be game over unless I could change it (which I couldn't at that moment in time), was near a bike shop, or had some 'goo' that would ruin the tyre but keep it inflated for as long as possible. Andy, my colleague assured me that along the way there would be a train station that I could stop at if disaster struck so I would be able to get to Paris. I was still unsure throughout the weekend, only finally making my decision the night before we left.

Gearing ourselves up

 Anyway, before I set off on my London to Paris adventure on the Monday I just want to fill you in on my first open water swim of the season. I did this on the Saturday before work. However, this was no normal early morning lake swim before work. I met up with some of the team that I am doing the Channel crossing with. It would be the first time I would ever be open water swimming without a wetsuit and considering it is early in the season and the lakes have only just opened it would be bloody cold. I wasn't wrong.
The water upon entering took my breath away. I was the last one of our 'crew' to fully submerge myself and with the persuasion of Gill I buried my head under the water shortly after entering as opposed to doing breast stroke for ages. I was going to do 2 laps of the 400m loop. I went off ahead of the group as wanted to warm up and actually found it OK after a while. In fact when I stopped to talk to Phil one of the relay swimmers I exclaimed I actually felt quite warm, maybe too warm? I did my 2 laps and then got out. I felt fine and although felt I was talking a little funny didn't struggle to hold a conversation with some others by the pontoon. I wasn't even shaking when outside but knew I had to get into change sharpish. When Phil joined me out of the water he was almost instantly shaking and felt like he couldn't talk properly.

Me looking skeptical on the sidelines 
We both took this as our cue to get changed as I thought I this may happen to me soon enough especially as I had been stood around chatting (what a surprise!). I remember Gill saying previously you have 10 minutes to get changed before the uncontrollable shakes begin. I got changed pretty quick and strangely enough didn't get too shakey. However I did not speak for everyone. Phil was struggling to get anything out of his bag and put his socks on. (I talk about Phil more so because we were swimming nearer eachother and Gill was the only other person non-wetsuit but she was helping others who were brand new to open water swimming). Phil had recently had a serious ski accident last year which caused internal injuries. He has since had operations to solve his internal injuries but was worried he may not be able to swim the Channel with us this year. However luckily he managed to get his medical to swim with us approved. He has though lost a lot of weight and body fat with that due to his hospitalisation, something that is relied upon when swimming in cold water. Women naturally have more body fat than men so it was no surprise I wasn't struggling as much as Phil but his weight loss would definitely contribute to his struggles that morning. I really admire his strength and determination to swim with us this year, an inspiration in my eyes. It makes you think what the body and mind really can push through. Although I said I was fine my feet however were bloody freezing and although I had to leave to get to work I wouldn't have wanted to linger as I was getting even colder and uncomfortable stood around. I got in the car and turned the heating up to high and blasted the fans at my feet. Even after a hot shower at work I still felt like I had ice blocks for feet - they were completely numb until late morning. I was however pleased that I broke the ice (almost literally) and went for my first non wetsuit swim, this officially meant my Channel Swim training had begun. The next test was on the 3rd of May where I was going to Dover for an early morning swim test (this is where we have to go in and out twice).

 On the Sunday I also had work. However, I woke up in the morning extremely upset (I think I may have woke up crying). Today was Rosie's 20th birthday. I kept looking up at the canvas I have of Rosie above my bed and crumbled. I knew this day was going to be hard but wasn't quite aware how much the significance of this day would affect me. On the drive to work I couldn't stop crying and by the time I got there I hardly had any make up left on. The second someone asked me if I was OK I burst into tears again. I ran to the toilet and hid there for a while as well as occupy myself buying a cup of tea. Again it was no use, I sat at my desk attempting to work but my mind was elsewhere and I kept breaking down. My family were all going to Bournemouth to let off some balloons in Rosie's memory and spend the day together. Yet I would be sat at work knowing I would be missing it and not able to be there to support everyone, particularly my sister. After 30 minutes of sniffling I decided I had to talk to my supervisor to explain. She let me go instantly. I tried to explain to my colleague why I was leaving but couldn't get the words out before breaking down again. I drove straight down to Bournemouth and spent a few hours there with my family thinking of Rosie. As you can imagine it was an emotional day but I was and still am so grateful to work for allowing me to go. It meant a lot to me to be there. As my brother in law said it's another first for us to experience.

The 'birthday girl' balloon we let off in Rosie's memory
 When I got back from Bournemouth I had to prepare for my upcoming adventure the day after - cycling from London to Paris in 24hours. Much like on the 6 month anniversary of Rosie's death where I cycled the hardest climbs in Lanzarote this was a tribute to Rosie. Training is what keeps me focussed and keeps me from breaking down so it is only fitting I continue this pattern of challenging myself around these hard and significant moments. The big decision as I mentioned previously was what bike to take? I decided last minute to take Bella Rosa. My main reasons for doing this was that if I didn't get the miles on her now I would never know how I would be on her during the Ironman (if I do decided to use her on the event). This way I can find out if I have any pain from the new geometry. Secondly it would also help me assess my confidence on her. If it was windy the UK and I struggled then it would enable me to make a better decision when in Lanzarote where the winds are a lot stronger.


 On the Monday we had to get a few bits from town. I wanted to get a variety of nutrition to try out as I have mentioned previously I have fallen out with High5 gels. I got some 'Clif' bars and 'Torq' gels which had been recommended to me because of their natural ingredients. Torq also have some interesting flavours such as Raspberry Ripple, Apple Crumble and Rhubarb and Custard. After our stop in town it was time to head back and get on the train to London. We were meeting Andy at Trafalgar Square as this was the official start of London to Paris.


 The weather was lovely and we went for a pre ride lunch. The boys had a beer considering the weather was so nice but I refrained knowing that me on a bike is bad enough! Bella Rosa, which we parked up just outside the restaurant, got many stares because of her colour and I was loving every ounce of attention she got. After a big three course Italian meal we headed off at 3.45pm.
I got about 100 yards down the road and whilst stopped at traffic lights I was getting the attention by being on Bella Rosa. We weren't even out of London and I had a marriage proposal and an offer to exchange my bike for a London bus! If you want attention Bella Rosa is the bike to get! As well as this Andy was wearing a Spiderman outfit and I am sure he broke many young girls hearts that day as he zoomed past them all exclaiming 'Spiderman!'. I was loving cycling through London and brought back many happy years in the capital city. Even when we started going through the more dodgy areas of East London I was still enjoying myself. Dan however wasn't keeping the same pace as me and Andy. I wasn't sure if our pace was maintainable but I was enjoying the experience too much to care. As we began to get out of London Dan was really struggling and then complained of a pain in his hamstring. This was almost disabling him from climbing. I even said to him "You used to beast me up hills and now look" (I don't think he was impressed with that comment).
I got a bit cocky on my new bike and was rewarded when zooming on the flats with a fly in my eye this then resulted in a swollen eye which thankfully died down when I got the foreign object out.
Dan however, struggled all the way to Newhaven with his hamstring and even though we got there in good time at 9pm, without sounding rude Andy and I would've beasted our way to the ferry had Dan had not been struggling so bad. When we arrived in Newhaven it was obvious not a lot goes on there and we were searching for somewhere to eat. We managed to find an Italian that would stay open for us and after a re-fuel of pasta we headed to the ferry. Bikes loaded it was time to try and sleep on the chairs. I couldn't get comfortable at all throughout that 4 hour journey and got a dead leg on many occasions. In total I managed a rough 1 hour sleep - perfect to do 120 miles on!

Mid ride group selfie
Mid ride solo selfie
We made it
All enjoying pasta and beer (I have covered my dodgy eye up with the beer!)
Dan's bed for the night
 Walking out of the ferry at 4am was like something out of Armageddon - it was quiet and eerie but also very exciting even despite the cold. Dan had decided he was in too much pain to carry on and didn't want to hold us up so he got the train from Deippe to Paris (although he had to wait nearly 3 hours in the 4am cold for the train to arrive). I felt so sad leaving him there on his own in the dark and freezing cold air. However, it was onto Paris for Andy and I. Andy's directional skills were amazing, we got on the Avenue Verde which was a paved over train track, this road would be our home for the next 4-5 hours. As expected at 4am it was pitch black and we were relying on my bike light to guide us. Another thing we found ourselves doing was dodging rabbits. They seemed to have a death wish and I was nearly knocked off by one running into my wheel although I sadly think Bella Rosa killed it in the process - sorry!
A quick stop for fuel and of course a selfie
We had 40+ miles on this track and it was lovely riding. It was flat and smooth and the views of the French countryside through dawn was lovely. We cycled side by side for the majority of the way but decided about 10 miles from the end of Avenue Verde we would do some drafting. We were getting into our new found speed, pushing ourselves and me getting on my aero bars until we heard 'psssshhhh'. It was the sound of my heart deflating (as well as my rear tyre). The one thing I dreaded had happened. I tried to fix my tubular tyre with some quick fix foam but it failed.
Sad face!
We then had to do a very solemn 5km walk to the next town and the end of the Avenue Verde. We had expected the town to be a lot bigger than it actually was being the end of the popular London to Paris route and as at the beginning of Avenue Verde there was a big bike shop. I was down but not out...until we reached the town/village and realised the only option for me was to pull out. I had got so close but it wasn't meant to be. Andy decided he wanted to carry on alone to Paris and informed me that the tourist office opened at 9.30am so I had a coffee while I waited the half an hour until it opened and let Andy on his way. I didn't want to leave my bike alone so stayed outside in the cold with my coffee (what a sight). At 9.25am I took the short wander to the tourist office only to tragically discover that there was a sign outside of it exclaiming it was unnaturally closed for the day. 'Oh Shit' is what went through my head and then despair began to sink in. I couldn't feel sorry for myself forever however and although I wanted to call home what could they have done except for start to worry about me and waste my already depleting phone battery I was trying to preserve. I decided to knock on the door of small 1 star hotel and try my French out - which is limited to say the least. I explained as best I could I wanted to get to Paris and needed a taxi to the train station. This sounded like this, 'Le Taxi a le gare a Paris'. I repeated these single words over and over and the poor French man could only gesture at my deflated tyre 'pump?'. I was getting seriously concerned as to how I would get to Paris by this point. He then said he would get one of his guests to come down as he spoke some English and understood French. When I heard a fully fledged Englishman who spoke amazing French who could translate me properly I was overjoyed. I stood there looking like a damsal in distress for a while confused as to what was being said until I was taken towards the Englishman's car, I later found his name was Terry. He then drove me the 40km to the nearest train station which had a direct train to Paris. En route to the station he exclaimed how lucky I was, he had been staying in the small town for a few days and hadn't come across another English speaking person. He also explained how he was just about to leave for the day so had I not have found him when I did I really would have been stuck. Terry told me he was staying there to see where his Dad had befriended some French residents in WW2 and sought refuge. He was then going onto Belgium to see where his grandad had fought in WW1. I told him of my story and he seemed geuninely happy our paths had crossed and exclaimed, "Who would've thought I would be sitting next to an Ironman triathlete today". When he dropped me at the station I was so emotional and grateful for his help and generosity. He wouldn't take any money for petrol or his kindness and just exclaimed he was happy he could help me out. Faith in humanity was restored until the bad side of having an attention-seeking bike was shown - a tramp tried to take his chances by running off with Bella Rosa when I said I couldn't understand his attempts to get money off me. I had a firm hold of all my belongings and went and hid in the disabled toilet with my bike (I even managed to clean her when in there). I only ventured out of my hideout when someone knocked on the door shouting 'Police' - Great! Turns out they weren't but I couldn't go back in despite my annoyance with the Italians who tricked me. I then sat clutching my bike for dear life and eating Haribo milk bottles - was this an ultimate low? To top all this off there was a psychofrenic man who was running around by me stabbing the air. I was so relieved when the platform was announced for my train to Paris and I got me and bike set up for the 1hour30minute journey. I did not let go of my bike the whole way - I was hugging the frame and used the saddle like a pillow, I even managed to nod off even though I was still upset by having to pull out. If you are reading Terry thank you so much for your kindness, I cannot thank you enough.

 I had managed to send a text to Dan before his battery went dead to meet me at that train station but he did not receive which train it was. When I walked off the platform I was overjoyed and so emotional to see Dan and gave him a huge hug. I hadn't told him at the point how I got there as knew he would worry and at that moment in time all that really mattered was that I was safe in the end. I am not going to lie there were moments when I was on my own I did get scared and think what if, but I had to trust my senses and that got me safe. I am sorry to my family as this will be the first time you have heard this story but just remember what you said to me when I finally revealed I didn't actually cycle to Paris, "as long as you are safe now". Safe I was, gutted I was also. I didn't feel like doing anything touristy, I was tired and upset so we took my bike to the Eurostar station, Gare du Nord and bided some time eating and charging our phones. We got back to London at 22.40 and got home at midnight.

A sad selfie waiting for our Eurostar train
On the train home
 So what have I learnt? On the positive side of things I learnt that I am comfortable on Bella Rosa and that even after 140miles of hard cycling with one hours sleep I still 'have it'. I learnt I need to consider all options when it comes to tubular tyres either how to fix them myself or a reliable quick fix. I also did exactly what I intended from the experience and had an adventure one that I will always remember and although I was on the verge of despair at some points it really is one to tell the kids as they say. I will be back to finish off what I started sometime in the near future, maybe I was just meant to complete with Dan. And just for the record I do not regret taking Bella Rosa I learnt more from taking her than not, even if that did jeopardise me getting to Paris on my bike.

 I just want to finish by thanking everyone who was so kind to me when I announced my 'failure' even though many got angry with me for calling it that and preferred the term 'a blip in the road'. All your kind words were really appreciated and I can assure you helped me out a lot mentally as I managed to make my own positives from the experience to take with me on my road to Kona. I am particularly thankful to Sophie Radcliffe (@challengesophie) the woman who gave me the inspiration to attempt this challenge in the first place. She took the time out to email me some words of encouragement. It obviously was a personal email but outlined how it wasn't meant to happen and we learn from these things. As a strong believer in fate myself I believe this too. Now I really will finish on a quote she shared with me in this email, "It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because therer is not effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the trimph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatlly" - Theodore Roosevelt.