Like a Lamb to the Slaughter

After a couple of months of being a virtual couch potato, it's amazing how unfit I have become. I didn't want to believe the specialist who said that he thought my leg would never heal, but wanted to be satisfied in myself that I'd given it every chance before accepting this fact. I think that I have managed to fix my REDS (relative energy deficiency in sport), but unfortunately there appears to be no change to my tibia.

  

I guess it's time to accept the facts and think about trying to run again and ensuring that the fracture doesn't worsen. I want to do this gradually, and keep as low a level of impact as I can, at least initially (OK, so I admit that I'm actually now scared to restart running!) so I've decided to try to make friend with my bike.

I know that I'm innately lazy and would look for excuses not to go for a ride of any distance (even more so if the weather isn't the best) so entering a sportive was my way of making sure I got and there and rode. I found an event called "The Winking Sheep" and entered the "baby" option of "The Lamb". I thought this was the short/easy ride that is usually attached to a longer event, and I suppose that you could say that is was even I this case, but it was actually more like a "lamb to the slaughter" as the pre-ride info kindly made me aware that it was 55 miles long and involved 5500 feet of ascent and descent.

The forecast for the day didn't help, as it was predicted to be windy and wet, but when I left Durham early in the morning, the sky was clear and there wasn't a breath of wind. Unfortunately, by the time I got to the event HQ in St John's Chapel, the sky was an ominous colour and it was distinctly cold.

My friend Mark was cycling with me, and although I insisted on starting right at the back of the starting groups, we soon found ourselves overtaking a few cyclists on the road up to Alston. It gave me a bit of confidence to realise that I wasn't going to be by far the slowest rider on the day, and I felt slightly smug to be overtaking people who were walking up some of the early hills. 

Pic by sportsunday

The routes (and feedstations)

The ride was divided up into thirds by "feed stations"......definite goals for me, as I'm always led by my stomach, but now I have the excuse of "keeping the REDS at bay". The first section didn't feel too bad....well apart from all the ups and downs. I actually prefer to climb than descend hills, no matter whether on a bike or on foot, but I did rather gulp when I saw the gradient up to Nenthead. I unclipped one foot in case I needed to get off and walk, but made it fine right to the summit (albeit with some nice lactic in my quads). Luckily for me the descent, although steep at 17-19%, wasn't too twisty, so although Mark shot off into the distance, he didn't have to wait too long for me.

It was starting to rain by the time we got to the first feedstation so the hot mugs of tea (and chocolate brownies.....obviously) were very welcome. The middle section had a punishing start with a 90 degree bend off the main road straight up a very steep "stand up on your pedals" climb, but it was short lived and we got a nice cheer at the top. I found the next section rather tough as the weather had definitely deteriorated and the road climbed gradually uphill into a strong headwind for what seemed like forever. Going over the top wasn't much better as the wind was so strong that even I, queen of the "braking during every descent", had to pedal relatively hard just to keep going. 

Pic by sportsunday

I felt rather cold as we rolled into the next feedstation in Middleton-in-Teasdale and was devastated to find that I couldn't have a hot mug of tea there, as I'd been thinking of not going much else for the previous few miles. As a slight recompense we did get the "feedstation food" but also were offered the leftovers from a wedding buffet that was about to be thrown away.....how many people can say they had wedding cake on a sportive?

The course was set out
on a nicer day!

There was a similar sharp climb from a 90 degree turn off the main road soon after this stop as well. Unfortunately there was also gravel on the road just where the turnoff was, so I came to a halt and had to pedal further up the road to take a "run-up" after the climb. From there we climbed higher and higher up out of Teesdale to head back into Weardale. There was a rather scary hairpin bend on a descent between the two valleys, which appeared to have already claimed an unwary driver as there was a smashed car on the apex with a note in its window stating "police aware". Mark shot past and didn't spot the damage but I had a long time to observe it as I inched my way round the wet steep corner.

The "Winking Sheep"

Soon after that, we reached the worst part of the day for me.....the descent down into Stanhope.....as it was very steep, wet, and consisted of tight steep hairpins with a horrible camber. My arms were full of lactic acid from having my brakes on so tightly, and I wanted to cry as it looked too steep and narrow for me to be able to actually get off and walk. This time a lovely motorbike marshal came to my aid and flanked me as I inched my way down. He asked me if I didn't trust my brakes, and I replied that I actually didn't trust myself.

Still, I eventually made it to where Mark was waiting patiently at the bottom, and we enjoyed the final 7 miles of "rolling hills" back up Weardale to the start. We were given a Winking Sheep beer for completing the ride but by the time we'd tucked into a sandwich and slice of cake, it was bucketing with rain, so we'd clearly timed it just right.

Not a "flat" course

Except for those not so lovely descents (including the one on cobbles in the middle of Alston, where I met a car driving up at the same time) I did enjoy the day and was happy to have managed to get round without having to get off and walk, though it did teach my exactly how poor my fitness really is! I would say "more work to be done" but the couch is looking rather appealing again!

The Juan de Fuca Trail

Loving the views from a kayak

The challenge for the rest of my trip was how to make the most out of my time in beautiful BC without stressing my leg. Kayaking seemed to be a good option so I enjoyed a bit of paddling around looking at the views, but we also decided that hiking would be a good compromise.


We decided to hike the 47km Juan de Fuca trail on the west coast of Vancouver Island - it doesn't sound far but is very "undulating" so we were going to aim for 4-5 days, but we ended up walking a bit more each day and cutting the trip down to 2.5 days.

All set for the off...

Typical trail sections

The initial plan was for me to carry a large daypack so as to be putting less pressure on the pesky shin, but my 2 friends are no MM veterans, and hence are less skilled in the art of packing and travelling light, so it became impossible for me to escape carrying a full pack after all.

"Fogust"

It had been really hot and sunny in Vancouver so it was nice to escape to the reputedly wet west coast in Fogust (as they fondly term August).

It was actually ideal walking conditions as the days were overcast, it didn't rain (so the knee-deep mud we'd read about was mostly dry), and the night were cool so you could actually get some sleep.

Trying to skirt some of the mud

Luckily I was small enough that
minimal ducking was required

The odd scramble

I'd recommend the hike to anyone (especially going the way that we did - North to South - as most people were travelling in the opposite direction) as it was an amazing few days.



We walked through forests, skirted some muddy patches, hauled ourselves endlessly up and down hills between creek crossings, staggered along shingle beaches, and camped on the sand listening to the sound of waves crashing nearby and waking up to foghorns out to sea.

A log bridge

A tree made into a staircase

We ducked under trees, scrambled over boulders, used log bridges and tree staircases and hid our food in "bear-bins" overnight (luckily we saw neither cougars nor bears while hiking....though there was lots of fresh bear poo on the trail).

No bears but definite bearpoo

I was actually rather disappointed to reach the southernmost part of the trail as we suddenly came across lots of daytrippers and no longer felt that we were out in the wilderness (though there had been some forestry road access points scattered along the route).

No bear-bins....hang your
food high up using a tree branch 

We'd had no phone or internet signal so there was peace and quiet (though someone was hiking the other way with music blasting from their pack) but the one thing I didn't enjoy was all the "yellowjackets" (ground wasps).

Not a bad view for a (dehydrated) dinner

Sunsets on the beaches weren't too shabby

These sneaky insects do not seem to buzz so there's no warning (well, we did occasionally see warning written on paper, but usually after the event due to us going in the opposite direction to those kindly trying to write down locations and notify people in advance) and appear out of small holes in the ground or under logs/sleepers/wooden steps. The first person walking past seems to wake them up, then the second one angers them......and the third one gets stung....and guess who was usually at the back of our troop!!

Camping on the beach

One seems to sting you and "tag" you alerting the others the then join the chase.....and I wouldn't allow myself to run (not that I could with my pack on) to get away. I ended up reacting so badly to the stings that my leg swelled up so that my knee would neither bend nor straighten fully, my shoes and socks didn't fit, and it looked like I had a DVT.

Survivors (including my leg
which was just starting to swell)

It took about a week for the swelling and itch to settle down - a nice souvenir of the hike - but even so, I still enjoyed it and would love to go and explore more of that coastline!

Volleying like a pro....

Most people would think I would go insane having to adopt a policy of total inactivity (ie no swimming, no cycling, no aquajogging, no gym, not even walking far or fast) to give my leg a final chance to actually heal....but I am actually a natural couch potato, and love sitting there watching TV/films and stuffing my face (Ok, so I occasionally feel a twinge of guilt but have been working on suppressing that).

About where we were.....

It did seem a shame to be on holiday in beautiful British Columbia and not be able to run in the amazing countryside, but I still wanted to get involved with the local trail community and so jumped at the chance of helping my friend (and former GB teammate) Ellie man (er...woman...) an aid station for the "Buckin' Hell" races on Mount Seymour (overlooking Deep Cove on Vancouver's North Shore).

We had company in the form of Jim Swadling (a former Kiwi living in Vancouver who is still a competitive runner in his 70s) who kindly picked us up (and had already picked up all the supplies the day before) and drove us up the mountain. We had to make sure we got there in plenty of time to be well ahead of the lead runners, and the aid station (known as "Mushroom Aid Station" though I never found out why) would need to be manned for a long time as runners on both the 30K and 50K routes would pass through on their way out and on their way back.

Ellie setting up the table

"I carried a watermelon"...or two!!

We set up a table and got to work chopping up fruit (watermelons, bananas and oranges), unscrewing jars of pickles, flattening bottles of coke, and setting out trays of choc chip cookies (I "had" to check them to make sure they tasted OK), pretzels, crisps, M&Ms and gels. It was a then an anxious half hour praying that the water would be delivered to us in time to set up taps and funnels, and mix up the electrolyte before the first runners arrived.

Vital components of an aid station -
pickle juice and a cowbell!

I wandered off (with a cowbell in case I spotted a runner) to see a bit of the course, and it appeared that no one would be approaching us for the first time at speed as they had a very steep rough track to climb....but it wasn't long before the first man appeared up it. I gave him a loud cheer (and made lots of noise with the cowbell) to alert the others and then went back to the aid station. I watched what they did for him so I would know for the rest of the runners. This started a pattern of calling to a runner as they approached to ask what they'd like us to do for them. We'd offer water, coke or electrolytes for their bottles and also a cup (makeshift cups from juice cartons with the tops cut off) of something there and then (we recycled said cups or they folded them up and popped them into a pocket for later). Most people stopped and ate some of the food on offer, but as the day progressed our chest full of ice became the thing that was most in demand.

Ellie ad I working hard

Initially the runners were spread out, as we were at a different point on the outward trajectory of the two races (and the 50k also had relay runners) but they'd also started an hour apart. After a short while, people started to bench up and arrived thick and fast. We were run off our feet trying to help them all while keeping the table and barrels well stocked......let's just say that the "service became less personalised". Luckily we got some extra support in the form of three willing helpers (they were out of course supporting the wife of one of them) as otherwise we'd have gone mad. Other people took the cowbells off a bit further down the trail and did some cheering and encouragement as I'm afraid that we didn't have the time to do much of that.

Phil - one of our helper angels - whose
wife was taking part

The mad rush quietened down, our helpers headed off, and we could deal with the more strung out runners who were covering the course at a slightly more leisurely pace. It was still fairly nonstop so I didn't get a chance to go and check out any of the surrounding woods/mountainside. There was an added complication in that the leading runners passed by our aid station for the second time (either 6K or 12k from the finish depending on their course) when the tail end of the main pack of runners were still going up. Without meaning to treat anyone preferentially, they were more keen to get a drink/fuel with the minimum about of time wasted, whereas those going up often wanted to stop and have a chat/breather/some encouragement. We also had to work out who was going in what direction in order to direct them the right way.

The 30K route

The 50K option

Ellie had been on the radio to HQ from time to time to let them know if people were pulling out and how they are going to get back to the start/finish, and to ask if it was possible to get restock a of certain supplies (eg the pickles and pickle juice were fast running out as a lot of people were cramping in the heat.....that was a new lesson for me...pickle juice for cramps - some of them drank it neat!!!!). You can try to encourage people to take certain things, eg we had limited amounts of watermelon as that was going down exceptionally well, but endless oranges, so we cut up more oranges and displayed them more prominently. Our biggest headache (almost literally) was running out of water, so I offered coke as a first option before electrolytes and water. It seemed as if Ellie was never off the radio begging for a water and ice drop (I had had to stoop to using the meltwater from the bottom of the ice chest and we hadn't been able to make up any more electrolyte mix). We were starting to panic as although we were in the shade of the woods (with concomitant mossies), it was a tough course on a hot day....

Luckily, the water and ice arrived before a lot of the field (with our 3 guardian angels again to help us out). It was all hands on deck again and there was little time for chat. We hadn’t stopped since heading up there at 8am and it was now approaching 2pm, so when a few other volunteers arrived to take over from us, it was more than welcome. The outward cutoff was well past and the bulk of the field had already gone through toward the finish so we felt that they would manage with the supplies that were left and so Jim drove us down to Deep Cove so I could see a bit more of the race atmosphere (it was lovely to be able to sit on a seat rather than on 10 watermelons as I had done on the way up!).

Beautiful Deep Cove

With Gary (Race Director)

Deep Cove was beautiful ....the finish was in a park right on the waterfront and Gary Robbins (the race director) was greeting each and every runner with a hug and a medal (his T-shirt must’ve been lovely and smelly from all those sweaty hugs!). It was lovely to meet him, grab a coffee and some pizza, and watch some of those runners I’d remembered passing through our aid station now crossing the line, tired but happy. Everyone appeared to have loved their day.....including me. It showed me what a fabulous running community there is in Vancouver and how you can still be a major part of it, even if you’re not running (through injury....or just by being a volunteer that has never run). Thanks for a wonderful day to one and all.....