Yes We Can, Yes I Can, Is Feidir Linn, Is Feidir Liom.

So this is the article I have been anticipating writing for eleven weeks, ever since my training for the Waterford Adventure Race began with a nervous trot around the block in Abbeyside.  Most of my waking moments have been spent since either training, thinking about training, thinking about why I should be training or boring the pants off whoever will listen to me talk about training. But now finally I stand, well actually I’m sitting, in front of you officially a triathlete. I ran, cycled, hiked and kayaked the route in five hours and six minutes, and I loved five hours of it.  There were six minutes of hell, but more on that in a few minutes.

The night before the race I was as nervous as a kitten. Bringing my kayak and bike out to the drop off points made me even worse.  Every other competitor looked fit as fleas with their toned arms and six pack stomachs. They’re kayaks were space age and their bikes looked like they’d cycle themselves.  I went home with a sinking feeling in my stomach and the guarantee of no sleep.

Leaving home the next morning I was that soldier going into battle. I was facing the inevitable. The time had come and I was going to wage WAR. The 120 competitors gathered in Mellary were full of bonhomie. Well, 119 of them were.  It could only happen in Ireland, but the race start was delayed by 20 minutes to allow the Monks’ cows cross in front of the start line. I don’t know if they were returning from milking or if the Abbot was exercising some ancient right, but either way the anticipation among us could have been plucked had you the right type of plectrum.

My race philosophy was to set my own pace and stick to it. It was hard to see the entire field of runners take off from Mellary and leave me behind but I knew if I tried to keep their pace, I would never finish.  The first of the seven stages took us through Glenshilane woods, and towards the end of that stage the payback began. Maintaining my own pace, I started to pass other competitors as they began to slow.

The next stage was the long slow bike climb up past the Cat’s Bar and on to the Sugarloaf.  Again here I picked off another one or two people, all the time keeping to my own pace.  The weather got worse the higher we climbed and by the time I reached the next staging post it was miserable, blowing a gale and wet.
With the wind at my back and the going rough underfoot as I ran downhill into Bealough, I knew this was the easier half of the stage by the look on the faces of those coming against me. “Slow down, save your energy for the hill back up” puffed one red faced competitor coming against me. He wasn’t joking. I leaned into the wind and the hill at 45 degrees on the way back up, but I was smiling.

In my mind I had the next two stages marked off as rest time.  The downhill cycle back to Lismore and the kayak to Cappoquin were meant to be opportunities to rehydrate and to eat. The wind had other ideas.  It hit head on at first then as the corners came it tried a side swipe or two, nearly lifting the wheels from under the bike. On the kayak from Lismore down the wind kept nudging the bow towards the bank which meant there was some compensation needed to keep going in a straight line. But I didn't care. I was having fun.
I was warned about jelly legs after getting out of the kayak, but it never happened. I took off towards Lismore with a pep in my step and covered the four miles in around forty minutes or so.

All the way through the first six stages I was feeling great. My legs and lungs were in harmony. I was well hydrated. I drank four litres of fluid throughout the race, that's eight pints! So I never got cramp or fatigue during the first six stages.

The seventh stage was the final bike ride. I thought I had cycled the route a number of times in training, but it turns out I got the wrong hill. This was not good. I didn't know it in my head so I didn't know when the pain was going to end. It started off flat coming out of Lismore, but then turned left up what seemed initially like a fairly harmless hill. It wasn't. The further it went the steeper it got and the more my legs screamed as the lactic acid gathered in them. I was literally pushing my knee down with my hand to get the pedals to turn.  This kept going for about 8km until a bit of respite appeared in the form of a down hill section as far as the Cat's Bar. From there  it was uphill again to Mellary. That mile was the longest I've ever cycled. Then there was the finish line.  Whoever decided to put the finish line up at the top of the hill past the scout centre in Mellary needs to say a couple of decades of the rosary as an act of contrition. Why couldn't it have been at the bottom of the hill?  We had already proven what we set out to prove to ourselves. Was the last hill from the Cat's not enough for you?  Obviously not.

It's hard to describe the rush I got from finishing the race. I came in about 100th of 120. I was nearly two hours slower than the guy who came first. But I did it and I did it well. I didn't die, I didn't struggle (much), I wasn't taken away in an ambulance. In fact I went out that night with some friends and fellow veterans to celebrate with a few pints.  I told my father in law the following day that the feeling at the finish line had echoes of the buzz of the birth of one of my children. Given what his daughter had gone through to produce those kids, I don't know how much he appreciated my analogy. Suffice it to say three days later I am still on a high, but I want to feel that endorphine overload again so I am signing myself up for a series of challenges over the summer.

I have to thanks Martin Lacey in Clonea for having me so well prepared for the race. If you are ever considering doing something similar and haven't trained before, look him up. He's so experienced and helpful, and a true gent. I'd also like to thank Alan Ryan from Dungarvan Chamber for roping me into this. I'd still be sitting on the couch otherwise.  And before this turns into an Oscar acceptance speech I want to thank my wife for her patience during my frequent absences. Thanks Jen.  Mind you I don't think she's too unhappy about the ever reducing gut, and neither am I.

(Ian presents Noctor 'til 6 weekdays from 4pm on WLRfm)

Let's Face The Music And Dance.

This is my last training log before the big event. On Saturday I will take on the biggest physical challenge of my life to date, and I have to admit I am excited about it. I read recently that you should never let your fears get in the way of your actions, and in a way that is what I have been doing for the last 10 weeks or so. It could also be described along the lines of fools rushing in where angels fear to tread, but I prefer the positive approach.

Being excited about the race and being ready for it may be two different things. I’ll find out one way or another on Saturday. But I feel ready to take on the challenge and all going well I will finish it.  The fast crew will get around the course in somewhere in or around three hours.  I’m allowing double that time for it, but hoping to finish a little sooner.  I want there to still be some stewards on duty when I finish, even if they are on overtime by then.

I’ve no idea if there are other novice competitors entered into this year’s race. I hope there are or else I am going to be very lonely for a lot of the event.  I fully expect to be at the back of the course but it would be nice to have a few other MAMILs (Middle Aged Men In Lycra) to keep me company. MAWILs are also welcome. In fact anyone struggling through at my pace is welcome regardless of gender, race, colour, creed or sexual orientation. I just want company as I huff and puff my way around the wilds of west Waterford.

My training in the last week has been full on, but in a very enjoyable way. I spent two mornings with Martin Lacey in Clonea Leisure Centre working on building my strength, I did three runs; a three mile interval run, a four miler, and on Friday morning before work on Martin’s advice, I ran nine miles.  Nine miles! That is the furthest I have ever run in one go and I did it without stopping or slowing in 90 minutes. So that’s ten minute miles, but nine of them.

My kayak and I have made friends again after it nearly finished my prospects of racing by injuring my neck while dumping me into the sea a few weeks ago. But last night Peter Burke from Union Chandlery in Cork who is sponsoring my kayak took me for a trip down the route we’ll be doing on Saturday from Lismore to Cappoquin.  I was so nervous before setting off, but within a few minutes I was loving the serenity of paddling down the Blackwater, and experiencing the countryside in a way I’d never done before.  Before I knew it we were at the boat clubhouse in Cappoquin. I found it a lot less physically challenging than I had expected and on the day I think the kayak section will be a good opportunity to stock up on food and drink to give me the energy for the last two sections.

I’ve just been reading about the essential kit for the race. Apart from the usual about helmets, life jackets and runners, there’s talk of survival blankets, whistles, and first aid kits.  I’m more used to picnic blankets, white wine and tasty titbits when I spend time in the great outdoors. I’ll be back to the treats soon but first I’ve got a race to finish. Wish me luck and tune in again this time next week for the latest and probably last instalment of my training log.

Ain't Nothing Gonna Break My Stride....

I’m back in the saddle again, up and running and paddling my own canoe.  The kayaking injury on Bank Holiday Monday has been brought under control by the healing hands of Caroline Gordon who is amazing. When I heard a crack in my neck as I was being knocked out of my boat by a big Clonea wave I was really worried that my ten weeks of training were about to go up in a puff of smoke.  From past experience I knew the worst thing to do was to try to exercise through the pain in my neck and shoulder, but the thoughts of being out of action for weeks while the injury healed was so frustrating.  In the end after just two physio sessions with Caroline and I was given the all clear to go back training. I don’t know how she did that because when it happened I was convinced I’d done myself a nasty injury. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was or how thankful I am to Caroline for working her magic on me.

Because of the injury I missed out on quite a bit of training, nearly a week all told.  At this point in the programme that is not a positive. However, beggars can’t be choosers and this time last week I thought my race had been run.  I’ve been doing mostly leg work since I’ve gone back in a bid to give the neck as much of a chance to get back to full strength as I can.  I’m clocking up the miles on the road and really enjoying them, despite the rain.  It makes me feel like I’m a real runner when I’m running through the pouring rain soaked to the skin, but loving every second of it. Those endorphins are very addictive.

I mentioned last week that I am also doing interval running.  I’m told this is one of the best ways to get fit fast. The principle is quite simple; run a certain distance at a normal pace, then the same distance flat out, then the same distance again at a normal pace, then flat out again.  Apparently this shocks the body into working harder by keeping it confused as to what is going to happen next. The logic goes that back in the cave days you were unlikely to get chased by a sabre-toothed tiger five times in a row. Either you got away or your DNA was wiped from the evolutionary chain as the tiger lunched on your remains. So when you continually force your body to sprint then slow down then sprint, it doesn’t know what the hell is happening and burns calories and builds muscle by the new time. Result.

The other big change has been my diet. I’ve always eaten relatively healthily but now rather than eating three meals a day with nothing in between, I’m grazing my way across the day. So I still have the three meals, but I’ll also have a snack of nuts or a banana, or some peanut butter on brown bread with a bit of jam. The little sugar rush from the jam can be lovely after a tough session. The experts tell me that eating this way let’s your body know that food is in plentiful supply, so it will only use what it needs at that point in time and expel the rest as waste as opposed to storing it as fat.   Nice one.

What I’m learning from my training for the Waterford Adventure Race is that while we have evolved as a species in so many ways, it’s well worth our while to defer to our cave dwelling ancestors if we want to know how to exercise properly and eat well. You’ve never seen an obese caveman, now have you?

(Ian Noctor presents Noctor ‘til 6 on WLR fm weekdays from 4pm)

Kayaking Is A Pain In The Neck

It had to happen I guess. I'm not being fatalistic, but to expect to go from a very low level of fitness to being able to compete in the Waterford Adventure Race without an injury somewhere along the line might just be a bit too much to ask from this old body of mine. And that injury happened this morning. It's not so bad that I can't move, but it is bad enough for me to need to see a physio and the sooner the better.

For weeks I've been trying to arrange to go out for a spin in a kayak. Peter Burke who manages Union Chandlery in Cork very kindly arranged a boat for me to use, but between the jigs and the reels we haven't managed to get out in it until this morning, Bank Holiday Monday.

The conditions in Clonea this morning were lovely, if you were a surfer, but perhaps not ideal for a novice kayaker. But this is the one discipline I haven't tried yet and I was determined to at least learn the basics before getting into the water in Lismore in three weeks time. I needed at least to learn how to get into it, how to paddle the kayak and how to get out of it if it turned over. It was on the final part of those three that it all came a bit unstuck.

The waves were high and I had been getting battered a lot and had capsized and got out of the boat a few times successfully, as per the plan. But as I turned for shore the final time having paddled out 20 or 30 metres I was broadsided by a wave and again the boat went over. As I was taught, I covered by head with my hand, but as I came out I felt a twinge in my neck. And that was it.

I don't know how bad it is, probably not very bad at all, but I need to get it sorted before I lift any more weights, or I guess before I run any more. I will as ever be placing my trust in the healing hands and acupuncture pins of Caroline Gordon. Waterford Olympian Jamie Costin has sung her praises to me more than once, and she has in the past healed sports injuries for me much quicker than I expected. Here's hoping she can do it again and even faster than the last time.

It is frustrating, to say the least. On Saturday I did a 70km bike ride out to Mellary, around the base of the Sugarloaf, into Lismore and back home in the company of a couple of experienced bike riders and another newbie like myself. The pace on the flat was fast, between 30 and 40kph on average. I struggled but I kept up and was delighted with myself when we finished. My running is coming on too. I am averaging nine minute miles over seven miles, and have been doing some interval running too. It is an amazing way to wear yourself out quickly, but it's also great for building stamina. I'm stronger than I've ever been and my body is beginning to take on a shape that I haven't seen for twenty years, if ever.

I hope and pray that this neck thing is just a glitch.The clock is ticking to May 21st and I really can't countenance forgoing all the hard work that Martin Lacey in Clonea Leisure Centre and I have put in. All those lifts and squats and bench presses cannot be for nothing. All those miles on the bike and on the road cannot be squandered because of a pain in the neck. Can they?

(Ian presents Noctor 'til 6 weekdays from 4pm on WLRfm)

The Highs and Lows of an Emotional Rollercoaster

I haven't experienced an emotional rollercoaster like this since I was a spotty teenager. When I took on the challenge of the Waterford Adventure Race I never expected the highs and lows that come with training, for what is for me an unprecedented event. And what is even more unexpected is the pace at which they follow one another; how elation and despair can be just moments apart. It’d wear you out, to be honest.
Let’s start with the lows. It kind of goes without saying that these are hard to take. It’s that creeping feeling that it doesn't matter what I do between now and May 21st, I'll never be able to finish the event. It's my panic-stricken mind reminding me that I have never been an athlete, never competed in anything other than a three legged race in high infants, and even then I lost miserably. Those are the lows.
The highs on the other hand are marvellous. They come at the most unexpected moments. Yesterday for instance I was climbing the hill up past the Cats' Bar in Mellary on the bike, and I didn't think I was going to die, my lungs weren't going to explode and my legs were not knotted in cramp. I thought to myself I can do this! Those are the moments I crave. But like in life, those moments in training are fleeting and elusive.
It’s all I think about these days. The race, the route, my times, minutes per mile; the different disciplines revolve around my mind like clothes on a fast spin in the washing machine.  Can I do it?  How long will it take? Will I make a holy show of myself?  Will I have a heart attack and leave a widow and three children with no dad?
But then there’s the physical difference in me. I am definitely getting stronger. The gut is getting smaller all the time. The chest is getting harder. Tonight I ran seven miles around Clonea and Ballinacourty at a pace of 9 minutes a mile. Six weeks ago I was struggling to run three miles at a 10 minutes per mile pace. That’s progress and that’s good. But is it good enough?  See, that’s what I mean about the highs and the lows, and you got them  both there in two neat five word sentences.
I haven’t managed to get a spin in the kayak yet. That may well turn out to be my Achilles’ heel.  Under five weeks to go to the race and I still have no concept of what the hour or so on the water is going to be like. I had better get my skates on, or more accurately, I’d better get my life jacket on.
Ian presents Noctor ‘til 6 weekdays from 4pm on WLRfm.

Keep On Running, Keep On Trying....

Who's been a busy boy then?  Well, that would be me, actually.  When I sat down to write this column last week I had no intention or thought in my head of entering the Butlerstown duathalon last Saturday. But somehow I'm sitting down to write this week having done just that.  Not only did I enter the Butlerstown duathalon, but I completed it too. All of it, all of it being a 5km run followed by a 20km cycle and topped off for good measure with a 3 km run. 

I came second last by the way. Not second, in case you misread it, second last. I'm used to doing the Winter League where there will always be people better than you, but there will usually be people a lot worse too.  I was that soldier on Saturday. I placed myself at the back of the group because I knew by the amount of lycra on show among the hundred or so others taking part that I was not going to be finishing top 10.  But even though I started  at the back I never expected the gap between me and the group in front to grow as fast as it did. Within a half a mile of the start of the race it was like I was on my own. I couldn't even see the group ahead of me. So I upped my pace and ended up completing the first 5km at an 8 minute mile pace. My usual is 10.

The 20km on the bike was fine. The hills were hilly, but I managed them. What was a bit more disconcerting was being lapped not once but twice by the guys and girls at the front of the pack. 

The third leg which was the 3km run was interesting. Have you ever seen an 80 year old out jogging? You get a lot of it in Florida where people who should have slowed down to a walk years ago insist on still going through the jogging motions.  Well that was me for the first kilometer of the last stage, but eventually the legs loosened up, just in time for the long steep hill which eventually petered out ahead of the finish line.  So all in all I didn't do too badly. 1 hour and 34 minutes all in. 

My issue is that I never felt in the zone once during the race. To be honest with you, the fitness levels of the main group in the duathalon left me a bit worried. If I am going to be able for the 6 hours that the WAR will take to complete, I'll need to up both my pace and the distances I'm covering.  With this in mind I went out last night with the intention of running my longest distance yet, and I did. I did the 6.7 mile loop from Tournore to Clonea along the Quigley Magnasite track to Ballyclamper and then back home via the Goldcoast. Unlike Saturday's event I was completely in the zone. I could have run all night.  I did it in an hour and 5 minutes which is an average of 9 and a half minute miles.

So after all that exertion, poor Martin Lacey in Clonea Leisure Centre didn't have much to work with when I went out to see him this morning.  That didn't stop him trying, mind you.  He's also given me a programme to do for the next week while I'm away, consisting of a lot of press ups, squats and jumps, sit ups and tricep dips, along with a lot of road work.  Oh well, so much for my holiday, but I guess this race won't run itself.

Who came last in the duathalon?  I've no idea. I only ever look ahead.

Never underestimate the motivational power of FEAR.

Fear is a great motivator.  There is nothing quite like the prospect of running 14k, cycling 42k and kayaking 6k to put the fear of God into you, especially if the furthest you have ever run ever is 10k. There is nothing quite like the prospect of taking on the biggest physical challenge of your life to motivate you to put on the runners and get out on the road, or to swing the leg over the bike and  head off.  At the rate I'm going the council are going to start charging me road tax for the amount of wear and tear I'm causing to their roads.  I'm pretty sure I would come in at Band A mind you. My CO2 output can't be higher than 120g/km. If it is, I'm in trouble.

 

This training regime is all about milestones, about setting goals and reaching them and then surpassing them. I have had a 10k run in my mind for a week or so now.  This morning I did it. I ran 5k to Clonea, worked out with Martin for 40 minutes non stop and ran 5k back home. Six weeks ago I couldn't run 5k without stopping to catch my breath. Today I did 10. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't a killer either. That is progress.

 

Speaking of motivation, on Sunday I cycled 50k including the heart-bursting hill from Cappoquin to Mellary. Remember, this is the hill that comes at the very end of the Waterford Adventure Race. This is the last aspect of the event. By the time I take on this hill on May 21st, I will have covered more than 90% of the race distance.  Last Sunday I had to get off my bike three or four times going up this hill because my legs gave in. They failed me. They let me down. They had no more to give.  And that happened three or four times.  This means that over the course of the next six weeks not only do I have to build up my distances and times, but I also have to build up my strength massively if I have any hope of finishing this race. Wish me luck.

 

Building my strength is the job of Martin Lacey in Clonea Leisure Centre. I do the distances and he builds up the power in the muscles. It's a good thing he can't hear what's going on in my head as he pushes my limits. If he could he'd make me wash out my mind with soap.  Last Wednesday he put me through such a routine that on Friday I was still aching. I normally do a run the night before a morning training session, but last Thursday evening I was in no state to do anything. So Friday morning instead of running I put on a yoga DVD and did an hour of stretching before heading out to face Martin's music.  It worked a treat, and the girl doing the yoga on TV was much easier on the eye than Martin too. No offence Martin!

 

The kayaking hasn't happened yet. After doing the 50k cycle with me on Sunday my kayak sponsor Peter Burke from Union Chandlery in Cork brought out the kayak to give me some initial training. It was as much as I could do to sit in it on the grass outside my house, which doesn't exactly count as training.  Who knows, maybe I'll be a bit more up for it after next Sunday's spin.

 

(Ian Noctor presents Noctor 'til 6 weekdays on WLRfm)