Nearly there...

So, I am as excited as a child at Christmas. I am collecting together the gear (I've cleaned this little low profile backpack and bladder off for the occasion). I lay awake last night thinking about the course and wondering about the weather and realising that I didn't really care. I just want to do it!

I went to see Ali this morning for a second look at my shoulder. She confirmed that it's getting better and told me to cosset it a bit this week. Not to get it cold, give it a nice heat pack one night and generally recover.

So, the training. Yes, I've been doing some. Not as much as I'd like but enough to feel moderately prepared. At least an extra CX loop every week. Another competition - the Singletrack Up the Buttress for cobbled climby madness (second elite woman since you ask). And another 'cross race.

On Sunday 23 September we stopped off on our travels for a bit of London League cx. We thought it would be balmy and warm down south. We were, oh so, wrong. A solid hour of heavy downpour - although the course was such good fun that I didn't really notice until I peeled my clothes off and they puddled on the floor.

The best bit was that I slid off on a corner, and nothing hurt. There were at least 13 women to chase down as well - I made it upto 5th place which wasn't too bad considering that I didn't start too well and  I've had a bit of enforced tapering - a week in London for London Fashion Week. Although that was definitely part of my training to drink like a cyclist. Champagne at 10am anyone?

The course was really fun - Redbridge Cycling Centre hosts mountain bike events and they routed the 'cross race round a couple of blue route bermed corners, through some muddy singletrack and over three decent sized humps as well as up and down more standard playing field fare. The rain gradually increased the slipperiness but the mud never became really deep and boggy which was nice.

I tested out my shoe choice - I think I am going to stick to my Pearl Izumi non-waterproof but flexible mountain biking shoes and try and keep moving fast enough not to get cold. Other than that I have stacked neatly every possible combination of mountain biking wear I possess. And some nicked from Chipps as well.

It's likely to be not-that-nice on Sunday so I'm expecting to be wearing tights (maybe winter ones), a base layer, jersey and a waterproof. However, last year it was bright sun by the end of the race from a rainy start so I am keeping all bases covered.

And taking a pair of Sealskinz socks. Just in case I turn into a wuss halfway through. I changed into them halfway round the Mary Towneley Loop I did earlier this year and they improved my soggy life for quite a while!

Right, back to more packing and bike fettling (or, more accurately to stand next to Chipps and look on as he fettles the bikes). There'll be an equipment list before the end of the week...

I have been really rubbish at collecting sponsorship. Please sponsor me - for Amnesty or Greenpeace! These links go straight to my JustGiving pages, go on, use them xx

Do not fall off your bike

I've just been to the physio. Not just any physio. Mills Physio. She's very good at cyclists (here she is, with her favourite piece of advice writ large - there's probably a bike propped just out of view too). And she know how much doing the Three Peaks means so she's not going to tell me not to do it or not to train to do it. She's going to tell me how to.

At least that's what I hope, as she moves shoulder, the right, through all its range and shows me the muscles that are not extending properly. And for comparison runs the nicely mobile left one through its paces without any of the winces and grimaces she's just elicited.

If you fall off your bike, onto your shoulder, it can become quite sore. And if it's sore, you hold it into a position to protect it, causing more stiffness and swelling and pain when you move. Until you come to the conclusion that you are condemned for ever to a lop-sided existence with twinges whenever you reach out in a way that is not-approved by the newly clenching muscles.

Which won't do if you're planning to use said shoulder for carrying your bike up several largish peaks, never mind directing the bike in the right directions on the way down.

So, to rewind. I was enjoying my cyclocross learning curve with the every-other-week (ish) discipline of the Yorkshire Cyclocross Summer Series. Every session was a voyage of discovery - from realising that my bike was equipped with stupidly high gears to learning not to follow slow giffers up hills too closely (they may roll back and take off your rear derailleur). Two races ago, I learned that falling off can have consequences.

I'd just started enjoying the race, there was only one woman ahead of me in the field and I was flying. Maybe I should always take a quick deep breath or something when I get that 'I'm flying' feeling. I flew on though, down a short, steep, grassy bank and my wheels went from under me. I'd obviously chosen a better line the previous times. At the time, I was less bothered about the pain in my shoulder than the fact that I was having difficulty getting my chain back on. It lost me maybe a minute as the other women in the field all sailed past. Once I'd managed to overcome my fingers and thumbs, the only thing that mattered was catching them up and regaining second place. I did but I was fairly breathless by the end!

Two weeks later, I rode a much more conservative race and finished bruise free (although ending up in a tape dead end meant another battle to keep my place, so many things to learn). But the shoulder niggled. Another couple of weeks later, I gave in. It wasn't getting better on its own and I was having to be very ginger with my training.

Carrying my bike had even less appeal than usual. I have felt quite battered after off-roading and mountain biking sessions and ever so slightly under the weather all the time. I didn't manage the 100 mile ride I had as this weeks' target and I am beginning to worry that the shorter rides and skills won't be enough. I need endurance too. 

The pain was only sharp if I moved in certain directions, and I managed to ignore the lower levels of it to get on with stuff. I usually accept that falling off is part of learning but I've been careful not to - and probably stiffer because of it. None of the effects have been huge, but it has been a drag; a small constant debilitating effect. 

So I ended up on Ms Mills couch, with her digging her fingers into muscles to persuade them to release their crampy hold and set my shoulder back on straight. It's really odd how interconnected the sets of muscles are, how sensation is referred as one muscle is relaxed and then another. It hurt quite a lot which made me realise how out of true the shoulder had become.

I decided not to try and ride my bike today, just to help the shoulder get used to being back in place before I start doing things to make it tense up. I have exercises to do to help strengthen the back of the shoulder so that it isn't so prone to rolling in and a nice stretchy band to do them with. I have been told heat is good and not to carry bike for a few days and to let Ali know how it's going next week.

Post script: It took me a while to get this up. Shoulder is definitely on the mend, but I have to be careful. Carrying will start next week.

Adrenaline boot camp! The Singletrack Weekender

The Singletrack Weekender 

14/15 July 2012

I've not raced much - a handful of cyclocross races, a couple of laps of Sleepless in the Saddle last year, Hit the North and the Dyfi Enduro (although strictly speaking, it's not a race, it's a challenge). I'm actually terrified of them. Beforehand a nagging, grumbling, doubt about the wisdom of entering builds to a crescendo of screaming banshees of fear, screeching the details of my physical, technical and nutritional lack of preparedness as the race approaches.

The sound of fear, in my case, is very rational. It details how little experience I have of mountain biking, of racing, of bike fixing. How skilled everyone else is, their years of practice, their respect for the course. I'm a beginner. What am I doing taking on difficulty and danger? Why? I won't win and I will probably end up looking stupid. With bruises. If I'm lucky.

The solution. Do more races. Make them seem normal. Or that's the theory.

I entered the Weekender right at the last minute. I know Lee Quarry, the venue, and navigating it the first time was pretty scary. But hey, I have had a few fun days there since, where I've not been terrified (as much) and I have been on a skills course since then. Or so I told the voice of fear.

The Weekender is a three part event which must be completed on the same bike. In my case, my trusty Ibis Mojo. The bike that likes to stay upright*.

The first part is a trials test. In which you have to attempt a very steep, technical hill climb, ride down a skinny log without falling into a pond, up and down some hefty steps, track stand for 30 second and ride over a see saw. I managed two of these (the skinny and the see saw) - to my surprise. I didn't expect any! I didn't try either of the two more testing trials - fishing a duck out of the pond whilst riding the skinny or riding a ring of slabs - proper trials rider stuff and you were given penalty minutes if you failed.

 *see, it likes to stay upright

After the trials came the downhill, the most terrifying part for me. Getting a grip, I decided to try out the  course in sections. Not to worry about fast lines and slow lines, just about finishing in one piece.

The main obstacle - in my mind at least - was the drop into the arena. From floor of the arena, my eyes, and head told me that the steeper line was smoother. Peering over the edge, they back-pedalled rapidly into the squealing realm of 'you will die'. Watching burly bloke after burly bloke disappear over it did nothing to quell my fears. Onlookers added pressure, the fear of looking an idiot was coming through loud and clear.

But the second they all disappeared, I sneaked up to, and over, the edge. Saw the terrifying sight of my front wheel disappearing down a near vertical slope but instead of panic, heard the voice of great firmness saying 'Commit to the line. Get used to it'. And I was down, and being sped towards the next section by my bike.

In the event stringing the sections together was harder than I expected - carrying the momentum from the first section and hearing the crowds to boot. I had to get over that edge despite them.

I did. Commit. Maybe not quite to the line I'd taken in the clear headspace of practice. There was a collective intake of breath. But I was right out over the back wheel and I didn't brake (or breath). And then I was down, over, onwards, scarcely believing I'd done it. Veering slightly wide in my joy. I made it through the gaps, down the singletrack and in and home. Not in a terrific time but unscathed. And proud.

Just because we could, I went for a second run. Fluffed two bits that had seemed innocuous and ended up having a little sit-down with Mountain Rescue to nurse my multi-coloured knees. Oops.

Hey ho, I was through and with a total thirteen penalty minutes (ten from the downhill and three from the trials). Which may not sound great, but the best female downhiller had only one less. The idea of the penalty minutes was to even the odds between trials riders, downhillers and the cross country riders. Those with penalty minutes set off after those without.

The cross country race was on Sunday. Three laps of Lee Quarry. That sounded quite short so I decided just to take a drinks bottle and some Clif shot blocks, just in case. I regretted that when the sun came out. I needed a drink and I had to slow down to get my bottle in and out of my jersey. Never mind.

The thirteen minute group was quite large. I set off at the same time as Kirsty but was not really in contention to pass her, ever. My steady pace, however passed Sue, a minute ahead of us and the other woman vet, on the first long climb, not to mention a fair number of blokes. Hurrah.

I was glad to have had a recce of the course. There were a couple of intimidating points but I had them cracked by the second lap. And there were lots of the fun berms of Lee Quarry included in the course which was fun. At least I tried to remember that they were fun, the pressure of racing sometimes interfered. But the more laps down, the more that eased. The only really, really annoying thing was dropping my chain. Twice. And on both occasions being overtaken by the same bloke. I caught and passed him twice on the last lap. Then right at the end he sneaked up behind me and passed me on the finish. Being annoyed was soon tempered by the fact that he admitted that trying to keep up with me had motivated him to finish the race.

So, what has this to do with the Three Peaks? I need racing experience. And that was racing experience, with plenty of adrenaline, peer pressure, crowds, shouting, performance anxiety, raging self-doubt and a bit of sheer terror thrown in. And I did get over them. I may have scared a few people when I dropped into the arena on an 'unconventional' line. But I didn't panic or grab at the brakes. Which is good to know, satisfying. I'm going to do any races that come my way, just to help get used to the whole thing.

And, best of all, I made my first podium. I was thoroughly beaten by Kirsty in my category (well done!) and Julia who won the senior women's race. But I was second vet and third overall, which was very satisfying. And I get a pair of Shimano shoes, which look like they may come in handy for the Three Peaks.

Now, please click and sponsor me! Amnesty or Greenpeace - the choice is yours. And I'll be very grateful (and thinking of you) all the way up Whernside and down Pen Y Ghent.

And then it rained...

So, I've started with the best intentions. There are three whole months to get my body in shape and my bike handling (and fixing) skills up to scratch.

I would like to put in a respectable time - although whenever I see any pictures or accounts of doing the Three Peaks I reduce that back down to 'please, please, just let me finish'. (Like this: cross junkie blog or this amazing piece translated from Italian by Google translate which kindly ascribes the words 'mentally ill' to the competitors).

My training programme (ok, it's a bit vague but I have decided to try and work on skills and fitness which will prepare me for each of the three sections) was all going swimmingly last Wednesday. I found a suitably steep and long track to practice carrying my bike up and did a couple of laps just to find out how hard it was.

Yes, it was hard, I wanted to cry and give up after 20 seconds. Then I stopped trying to run and accepted that stumbling up would be better than not doing it at all. It seemed like an eternity, and one on which everything hurt, and on which I still had to concentrate on what my feet were doing as it was a tiny, rough and narrow track. Apart from the hammering heart (412 feet of climb in less than half a mile) and the sore shoulder from carrying my bike, the worst thing was having jelly legs when I climbed back on. And the other worst thing was completing a circuit and thinking to myself that I'd better check that it wasn't a fluke, and do it again. Ow.

Once home, I checked on the Three Peaks website and found that Simon Fell - the first climb of the three peaks is three and a half times the climb I'd just done. With this in mind, I thought I might go back again and have another go.

On Thursday I rode home from work over the tops - thinking I would get a few 'free' training miles in. In fact, I got a new benchmark: inner tube change timing. I punctured just before the spot where I'd practiced bike carrying. I was rather disappointed to find that it took me 26 minutes to put a new tube in. That could be improved on! And I would save my bike carrying practice for another day.

And then it, literally, started to go swimmingly. It rained.

No, you don't understand. It rained. And rained. And rained. I am relatively hardy so the rain itself wasn't a problem. The problem was that half of Hebden Bridge where my business, Makepiece, is, was under water. Not to mention a significant part of Todmorden where the Makepiece studio is. Although we weren't flooded, I had to pitch in and help!

The net result is that so far this week my training regime has consisted of:

• Saturday: 8 hours of jet washing
• Sunday: Recovery and light cleansing
• Monday: 4 hours of lifting and carrying
• Tuesday: Recovery

I finally got back onto my bike on Wednesday expecting to do a 'cross race in the evening. At least that would be a contribution towards improved fitness. However my boyfriend, Chipps, had to work late and we couldn't make it.

He did make it up to me by beasting me up the hill behind our house then making me practice 'cross mounts and clipping in on the moorland track at the top before tea. He's been clipping in for 20 years - I have been using shoes with cleats that 'clip in' to my pedals since October, and I really do need to practice! Stuff like this uses less energy once you're good at it and all these little things can really help when the going is tough.

Oddly my shoulders feel quite sore, so I guess jet washing has had some kind of an effect.

A close call for Makepiece - thanks to Giles Dring for the photo taken at midnight on Friday. I couldn't get to the shop because our house was cut off by this:

More about the floods on the Makepiece blog and Facebook page.

I'm hoping that next week will be a bit more focused and I'll get a mix of long and short rides in. And some more carrying my bike (ugh, I don't like that bit at all).


Please don't forge that I am doing the Three Peaks race in support of Amnesty and Greenpeace (all those with wet feet and worrying about about global warming please donate).

Donate online now! Justgiving pages are here:
Amnesty & Greenpeace

Three Peaks...

There’s no other way to visit the top of Whernside, Ingleborough and Pen-y-Ghent with your favourite two-wheeled companion apart from taking part in the Three Peaks Cyclocross race. It sounds romantic. I’ve watched others do it. They are clearly bonkers.

At the start of last year’s race I was cheering on my boyfriend. I nipped into the ladies’. There was a rider in there, preparing for the start. She was a tiny woman so delicate looking and a couple of years older than me. I was so impressed that she was taking on this race when there were so many big blokes - my boyfriend included - who have a genuine respect for this race as one of the toughest in the calendar - that the seed was planted. Maybe I could do it too.

I hadn’t even ridden a short cyclocross race at that point. I was warned it was hard to get an entry - you need to prove that you’re likely to finish. But the seed was there - and I started making tentative steps.

Nine months later I:

a) have an entry - much to my surprise, delight and terror
b) have raced several cyclocross races (currently third female in the Yorkshire Cyclocross Summer Series rankings - although this is more a case of persistently getting points by attending all races rather than any speed at least it showed the organisers that I was worth an entry!)
c) have been knocked off my cyclocross bike (also my daily commuter) so it’s in bike hospital and coincidentally I've been told I’m run down (or at least have anaemia and Vitamin D deficiency).  Ooops!

I feel that I'm right at the start of a rather long journey...

Most importantly I have decided to raise money for Amnesty International and Greenpeace. It’s hard to sum up briefly why it’s so important to fund these two organisations - they’re both campaigning organisations. It’s so easy to get depressed about the state the world's in - the damage to the environment, the awful events in Syria, the terrible danger so many people live in. But, essentially, I’m an optimist - and I've always believed that if you don't like something you have to try and change it. Even if you only do the tiniest thing, it's better to light a candle than curse the darkness.

Both these organisations have supported, protected and brought together people and have changed the world. I’m a child of the iron curtain - remember that? Gone. Because of the persistance of ordinary people. Like CFCs: banned (and the ozone hole is smaller than it was). Because governments were pushed into banning them.

Yes, there’s loads to be done, the problems of the world are vast but these are two organisations that shine light in dark places and harness the power of ordinary people for change. So, please support them.

I've set up just giving pages for both Amnesty and Greenpeace - it's easy to donate online but you can also donate directly (there's a bizarre UK rule that allows private schools to be charities but only part of the work that both Amnesty and Greenpeace do to be classed as 'charitable') - if you want to spend real money email me and I'll sort it.

I’ll do my best to get fit (and eat my new iron tablets), fast and learn to fix the bike in case of emergencies. I hope you’ll join me on the journey - for the whys, the highs, the mud, the blood and if nothing else, just to laugh at me for a piece of glorious insanity.

There are 100 days until the race, so I’d better start getting ready.