....With the sound of.....WRC members puffing and panting their various ways through Chevy preparations!
It's a different kettle of fish when the mists come down. Let's hope we get a clear, cool day next Sat. Whatever happens, conditions could be worse (see photo)
Just want to stick my oar in and wish all participants, organisers and others involved next week the best of luck. See you all, steely-eyed with competitive zeal, at the start.
Peebles Tri was third in the Borders Sport & Leisure Trust series for this year. What an idyllic setting, listening to the pre-race briefing with harmonious church bells pealing in the background.
It was Sprint distance: 750m swim/20k bike/5k run.
I had the benefit of experience at this distance at Eyemouth last season and then Gala in April and so, with prior knowledge that the bike route was mostly flat and the run wholly so, had decided this was going to be a flat-out burn as best I could manage. Maybe that approach should've been tempered a little because trying to go too quickly too soon in the swim was a mistake. Truth be told I hadn't been near a swimming pool to do any training since racing at Selkirk, nor has there been any surf worth paddling for since April. So... what improvements I had been making in the water were lost as I thrashed the first ten lengths or so and got out of puff. Eventually got focussed on the rhythm and stroke length and settled into the rest of it though without, in the end, losing much on my previous best swim time.
Made a bit of an improvement on my bike time. I'd expected this since Peebles was the flattest bike course so far, a picturesque out and back on the B7062 to the south of the Tweed. There was one hill to contend with at a 1/4 then 3/4 the way and this seemed to be to my advantage as it was there, on the return leg, that I caught the one chap from my swim heat who'd exited the pool before me. No-one else from the same swim heat managed to catch me on the bike, which was a first- and my minor victory of the day.
Onto the run, where I ended up going marginally slower than at Gala. This was a 2-lapper utilising both sides of the Tweed and 2 footbridges to form a loop. Very nice. And mercifully flat. Although heavy rain probably cooled things a little for later competitors the sun was still dishing out the degrees while I and others were running and this was where I was feeling things were ganging up on me a bit. One too many drinks at Mr. & Mrs Mosses party the night before. Not enough sleep and an early start. Having to do my own driving!!! (My treacherous chauffeur, Mr.S., had the nerve to use his camper for he and his wife to rough it and make the journey to Peebles an overnight one! ) However, just ducked in under 18minutes anyway and that was it, an overall 14th place from about 90 odd, 4th Vet, 1hr:07:43 an ever-so-slight new PB.
(I suspect Mr.S might prefer to take his good lady for company in future, rather than driving yours truly, 'cos he well and truly killed his previous best time! Well done!)
There were masses of vehicles parked around Alnwinton village, which turned out to mostly be those of folk participating in the walking of the Alnwinton Round (Pretty much the Fell Race route in reverse from what I could gather), so my first thought on driving down the approach road was, "Jeez! Popular!" However...35 runners in total turned out to be fewer than last year.
Cool, dry conditions, with just a light breeze made for good running and we all got away up Clennel Street at the start to steadily climb the first 5 miles or so. Broad grass track gives way to hardcore forest road where Clennel St. hits and skirts Kidland Forest. Alot of felling and clearing has gone on since I was last that way so the made-up roads are much more widespread now, the same kind of thing we're familiar with on the Broadstruther approach. Not the easiest going underfoot!
Phil Sanderson had taken his usual early lead and gone away to vanishing point before the rest of us mere mortals broke sweat. I never saw him after Checkpoint1 but I'd settled into a tippy-tap in 3rd place up the first climbs and felt rather good. Kept my eye on the second-placer about 30m ahead, confident I could rein him in before CP2 and thinking I'd fall in at his pace thereafter to steady the ship a bit. But....after a bit of cut-and-thrust when I drew level, and then another wee rise, he seemed to tire and I just went with holding my own pace and hoping for the best. Eventually a fork on the road cut the route through the forest to the second checkpoint just before breaking out onto the open fell. Shortly after, at a turn on the track approaching the start of the Bloodybush Edge climb, I allowed myself one backward glance to see what ground I'd made and an empty horizon to the rear (and to the fore- Phil being long gone!) seemed to say to me that second place was my destiny for the day.
Which turned out to be the case. The racing part of the race was done and it was me and the open hills for a while after that. Lovely vistas all round from atop Bloodybush and Cushat Law. The best conditions you could hope for underfoot. Dry springy tracks (this bodes well for the Chevy!) and distinct absence of pond conditions where I've been totally mired on previous occasions. (The dip between Bloodybush and Cushat is often a short swim.) And friendly greetings from walkers looping round in the opposite direction. The clock kept on giving me a nudge to try put the foot down a bit more but I resisted that urge, not having done this race before and also being a bit cautious since I'd opted to not carry any water with me.
Straight down off Cushat Law and into the forest, onto the hard track again. Jack had said this bit was uncomfortably hot last year, partly why I'd resisted the urge to go bonkers over the fells. Good move. Heat wasn't a problem but the feet felt the slapping on the hardcore, particularly on a first steep descent. I'd been going to run in more cushioned shoes than my Walshies too... However...plod on. Winding down through the woods for a couple of miles until CP5 which comes just before the "sting-in-the-tail," a Hellpath-style killer hill about a mile and a half from home. Kept it going up that and bit my tongue on hearing the remark from a descending walker, "You must be mad....!"
("Yes! I'm totally insane. Driven so by such outstanding commentary on the desire to run up hills...")
Final descent down the last mile or so, common to the outward start stretch, and that was it. 14 miles and 2900ft worth of Northumbrian fun! Claire (1st Lady), Jack and Rob made the journey too, well done to all, and it was great there were teammates there to witness my first Wooler RC vest airing.
Wish I could say that surf was, "like the buses..."
You wait ages for a swell and then 3 come along at once.
Errrr. NOT!
To carry through the bus analogy though, and assuming an average wait for a bus to be 10mins and the average gap between swells with rideable waves to be about 2 weeks, then what we have just experienced is...
50 minutes at the bus-stop without ANY traffic on our side of the street at all. Never mind buses. No cars either. No lorries. Not even a stray moped you could thumb a lift on. Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Then, on the horizon at the end of the street.....hope at last! Something looming into view that we can hop a ride on! Oh, what transport of delight...!?
What indeed?
Seems the bus company have dispensed with their clean-lined, smooth operating, easy-aboard vehicles that we love so much and what has rolled up instead isn't the Number 5 to Surfer's Paradise but rather a f#*ked up combine-harvester with a drunk driver and a conductor ready to punch your face instead of your ticket-to-ride.
All aboard?
Some of us hopped on this dismal swell, rabid with waiting for weeks on end, but it was pur....itty shitty. I got in at Embleton, rolled about for an hour-and-a-half and managed to tap out a couple of longer but crumbly waves almost to the beach from the line-up, along with a host of short bursts on collapsing sections. Just one wave pitched up a hollow few yards of a wall for a brief jolt of proper down-the-line speed. Hardly a jaded battery re-charging session though, all-in-all.
"What was the surf like Adam?"
"Blue."
