Home time...

Five years ago this month Helen, Sam and I, having never even seen a triathlon before, stumbled upon the Lanzarote Ironman whilst looking for something to do on a surf holiday with no surf... it was an act of chance that would change all of our lives forever. Last Saturday our amazing five year journey came to and end and with 14 Ironman finishers medals between us it's been quite an adventure.


We'll probably keep this blog going until what will be my final competitive triathlon at the Outlaw Iron distance race in Nottingham on August the 8th and so I'll save the whole reflection thing for the next few weeks and months. Today it's all about the race report from the day that so nearly was...


Race Week

H and I arrived in Lanzarote, managing to just avoid yet more ash cloud disruption, on the Saturday before the race and with it being our sixth trip to the Island since the adventure began we felt at home pretty much straight away. It amazes me how people can spend an entire English winter suffering through long swim, bike and run sessions only to arrive at the race venue late and risk last minute worries and stress. With six full days in which to get stuff done prior to the race just a little bit of bike maintenance, kit buying, race bag packing, nutrition sorting, registration training meant that by Wednesday morning everything that needed to be done. We try and avoid all the pre-race hype and base ourselves in a beautiful little backwater of Lanzarote called Famara where our little one bedroom detached bungalow is provides sun for H, shade for me and peace & quiet for both of us. As usual I took a complete rest day two days out from the race and then slotted in a 30 minute run including 5 x 30 second efforts before breakfast the day before.


Racking & The Day Before

The day before race day is a strange time in Ironman, pretty much everything is done and the feeling of 'waiting' and quite strange. As an Ironman athlete you're used to there being something to do pretty much all the time and, particularly once your bike is racked there really is nothing to do except sit there... even most of your eating is already done! With us being tucked away in Famara Friday was pretty much the first time that I could get a good look at all the other athletes, and more importantly my rivals for a coveted Kona slot. The allocation had been posted at the organisers tent and 10th or best would be required for guaranteed qualification. This was pretty much as I expected and I guessed that a top 50 overall and a finish time starting with a '9' would be required if I was to book my ticket to Hawaii. Once everything was racked, my bags were hanging on their hooks (having been checked, double checked and checked again - not sure how I think my shoes might not be in my run bag seeing as I put them in there in the first place and triple checked them, perhaps one day I'll be surprised!) it was time for an nice early dinner. Not wanting to mess with my stomach a nice simple pasta dish was order of the day... Phil Graves did persuade me to join him for a black pudding starter though!


Race Morning

Arriving at transition at 5am the familiar race morning buzz was starting to build and again getting there early meant that I could remove the chance of any last minute stress and panic in the event of some unexpected 'moment'.  By 5:30 I'd pumped my tyres up, stuck nutrition on the bike, checked my bags (again!) and benefitted from the early morning lack of toilet queues. By six o'clock I was sat down with H and enjoying 20 minutes of quiet time whilst the Ironman world wandered up and down. We also bumped into my club mate Richard Howarth, it was great to see a familiar face from back in Leeds and I knew that despite his awesome swim ability (Rich swam 50 minutes and was 11th out of the water) there was a good chance we'd find oursleves in close competition for a 35-39 qualification slot seven or eight hours later. I pulled my wetsuit on at about 6:30 and as usual shed a few emotional tears as I waved goodbye to Mum, Ray and H and wandered down to the water for a quick warm-up. 


The Swim - 58:56

Despite being surrounded by 1,500 people who are about to do the same thing as you, the moments before the gun goes are up there with the most lonely in sport. At that point it's just you against the world, even if your best mate was stood right beside you you'd be unlikely to recognise them and even if you did they'd disappear into a thrashing of arms, legs and water the instant of the bang. Readers of this blog will know that I'd only managed about 10% of my normal swim volume in the 20 weeks leading up to the race and despite a couple of confidence building swims during race week I really didn't have a clue what was about to happen. As usual my Ironman Swim God was watching over me and for the sixth time in a row I completely avoided anything remotely approaching 'biff' and once round the first turn buoy found some nice feet to hang on to and settled into a great rhythm. My swim strategy had been to think about technique, tactics and pacing and not worry about fitness. With no regular feedback in open water swimming (i.e. a time check every 50 minutes) it's easy to let the negative thoughts creep in and imagine that not only are you at the back but even going in completely the wrong direction, when you've had such a bad swim build up the temptation to convince yourself this is the case and for your head to drop is strong. I felt good though, really good and exiting the water at half-way to the amazing shouts and screams of H motivating me for the first time in the race (see pic) was thinking I might surprise myself. Probably around 1,000m later my lack of swim volume was showing its face as my arms tired, and my lack of open water practice was showing as I got seriously sea-sick... all this combined with my goggles really starting to hurt as I'd not worn them continuously for this long since July 2009 meant that by about 3k I was really 'over' the whole swim thing. Not wanting to start off the day with negative feedback I'd not started my watch so that I couldn't be disappointed with my swim time. Fortunately there was a race clock at the exit and with a time of 58:56 I learned two things... a) the swim was shorter than last year and b) despite that I must have had a blinder as at six minutes ahead of my predicted time I must at least have 'split the difference'.


The Bike - 5:33:24

With what I thought would be my weakest discipline done and dusted I set off on the bike in 140th place overall, and with a top 50 the target, had some serious work to do. Despite that, and the desire to take at least ten minutes off last year's 5:41, I knew that the fastest Ironman bike split is built on the foundations of a steady first couple of hours. In my head I had split the course into three sections - The start to Famara (2:15 and easy), Famara to the top of Mirador (1:45 of steady work) and then Mirador to the finish (1:30 of hard work) and knowing it like the back of my hand felt comfortable in familiar surroundings from the start. For the first 20 miles my left leg was really struggling to keep up with my right, it just felt weak and despite my heart rate being about right (aprox 145) and my perceived pace feeling good, as I moved up the places I was a little worried. You can only play the cards you're dealt though and I just kept saying to myself that it was probably stiff from the swim and would not doubt loosen up as the race went on. I also had to stay on top of those negative feelings associated with the odd athlete flying past like I was stood still... they're either better than you or going too fast, neither of which are reasons to 'react' so early into such a long race. With the words of Ryan Hall ringing in my ears I repeated out loud (a sign of madness I know) that I 'must have faith in my ability and stick to the plan'. It was nice to see some familiar faces and as Jim Peet went by and I in turn went past Rob Quantrell the brief moments of positive encouragement between us really helped to keep the spirits high and the mind focused... although Rob's contents of 'go on Tom, kill it!' probably lifted my heart rate a little high for a while ;) Coming through Tinajo at about mile 40 I once again benefitted from the shouts of H, Mum and Ray, which seemed to give my left leg a good shot of aneasthetic. Just 20 minutes later I was beginning the second 'section' of the bike... climbing from Famara to Haria and starting to feel really great. 


You can't win the race over the next 20 miles but you can certainly loose it if you succumb to temptation and hammer the hills. By this time though I was starting to feel great and making solid progress up through Teguise. I'd caught last years female winner Bella Bayliss at around 60 miles, which at around 20 miles earlier than last year was a great boost prior to the final proper climb up to Mirador. The views from the top were, as always, amazing and as the highest point on the course disappeared into background I got myself ready for the final push home. At about 87 miles you make a right turn at Tahiche for a 5k climb to Teguise and then with all the tough stuff behind you and a tail wind home if you've paced it well then it's 'happy days' until the run. I knew mum, Ray and H would be at this roundabout and had been looking forward to seeing them for a while. As always their shouts spurred me on and seconds later I caught up with Rich Howarth... he told me he'd swum 50 minutes and he's a strong cyclist so I knew I must be going well to have made up over eight minutes. As we climbed up to Teguise I'd never felt so good 90 miles into and Ironman bike, had avoided pushing it for any of the ride and with my biggest ever bike training volume in the bank I was confident that I'd have no problem unleashing my best ever run form. Just coming into Teguise, the final proper climb was done, a guy by the side of the rode shouted that I was in 80th overall and with 60 places taken on the bike a top 50 was looking good...


Ironman's a funny thing though and no sooner had I practically awarded myself the Kona slot than my legs blew into a thousand pieces... Rich, who I'd caught so quickly just 15 minutes earlier, edged further and further away and with absolutely nothing to give all I could do was try and keep the pedals turning and limit any damage. Over the next ten miles I lost 30 places but knowing that the final ten were mostly downhill just kept pushing and pushing, if I could just get over the top then just maybe I could turn things round before the run. It's so important to stay positive at times like this, not to panic and just try to get through the low patch... Four caffeinated Power Bar gels and ten fast downhill miles later and it was time to strap on my running shoes and get stuck in to the final three and a bit hours of a five year journey...


The Run

Setting off on the run I knew it was all to play for, had you said at the beginning of this year's training that I'd be starting the run with a great chance of qualifying I'd have been over the moon. I've run so well recently and with vivid memories of cruising round the London Marathon at 6:40 per mile just four weeks earlier I knew I had it in me to smash my Ironman marathon pb of 3:24. The run course was different this year and consisted of an out and back, 1 x 18.7km and 2 x 11.9km - I'd measured an early mile of the run course during race week so that I could get some early feedback and clocking just under 7:20 for the first time through I was definitely pushing it but also feeling strong and certainly capable of holding the effort level. This year has been all about putting it out there, I could of course have played it a little safer but I did that in Switzerland last year and missed by three minutes, and I fully expected Kona to require well under ten hours... 3:15 would give me 9:56 so set off like I meant business. Getting to the first turn at around 9km I was still feeling good, a few people had gone past but a few had come back and even then I was still super confident that I'd survived the blip on the bike and was back in control. 

About half-way back to PDC my entire race changed in seconds, coming into an aid station I necked a cup of Coke and almost instantly suffered the worst stomach cramps I've ever had. Having never really struggled to take energy on during Ironman events I wasn't too concerned... 'just run through it' I thought, confident that within a few hundred metres I'd be back in the game. It just got worse and worse though and by the time I got to the next aid station I found myself doubled over and struggling to even stand up straight. In what seemed like a matter of minutes I'd gone from running sub 7:30 per mile and looking forward to flying through the final 25km to struggling just to keep running and wondering how or even if I was going to survive the rest of the marathon. 

Setting off on the first of the two 11.9km sections I knew that Kona was disappearing from right in front of me. Just moments ago I'd felt I had one foot on the plane, yet here I was completely helpless as athlete after athlete slowly went by and with every '35-39' written on their race number my five year dream faded a little more and a little more. At this point I really started to struggle mentally, as I thought about all the work I'd put in... the early mornings, the freezing cold bike rides and the hours of painful physio... then my thoughts moved on to what I'd be doing for the rest of the year now Hawaii was not going to happen. Tears started to roll down my face and with well over ten miles left to run I was about as low as I've been in a race. Eventually though my mind turned to an email I'd had from friend and top British Ironman athlete Mark Stenning, 'keep your emotions in check' he'd written, now it probably wasn't intended for a moment like this but it was just what I needed... with 10km left in my final ever official Ironman event (at least I knew that now) I wasn't about to go out with a wimper and pulling myself together I tried to work each gap between aid stations... the reward to myself being that when I got to each one I could come to a complete stop and dive into the sponges, drinks, gels and support.

As the finish got closer and closer I challenged myself to run my measured mile as fast as I possibly could, at the aid station before it I took an extra 30 seconds, dusted myself down and set off for the finish (the end of the mile was only about 400 yards from the line). What felt like six minute mile pace and took the same effort as five minute mile pace actually saw me cover the 1,609 metres in eight minutes flat. I'd not given up and with 100 yards to go allowed myself a big smile, I may have missed the plane to Kona but from the start of training to the end of the race I'd absolutely truly given it everything I possible could. Something that five years ago I could never have dreamed of.

The Finish Line

The finish chute of my first ever Ironman triathlon, way back in Austria 2006, was probably the most amazing moment of my life. It marked the achievement of something that deep down I'd never believed possible and was the culmination what was at that time the hardest training I'd ever done by quite some way. Helen, my mum & Ray and loads of friends had come to support and seeing as without them I would never have even got to the start line let alone survived the race I'd spent what seemed like hours taking in the moment, dishing out the high-fives and generally celebrating. Yes it cost me a load of time but it was absolutely worth every second. 

This year I really wanted to do the same, and once I realised that Hawaii was pretty much over that desire became even stronger. I wasn't about to cross my final Ironman finishing line without giving out a little love... in the back of my mind though I had Switzerland '07 reminding me that in the two minutes that I messed around with my Dad and H just yards from the line six athletes from my age group had gone by... it hadn't cost me a slot but it certainly could have done. As much as I'd written off my chances in this race, the idea of going through everything that I have only to be a gentleman and let someone past me and straight 'onto the plane' didn't bare thinking about. Turning to look back as I hit the blue carpet there was no-one remotely in sight... the smile in picture two and the expression in picture three sum up my race pretty well I think ;)

The End

So, what started in Lanzarote in May 2005 and took me on the most amazing five year journey, finished in Lanzarote in May 2010. I'll never actually get to race in Kona and I'm finding that a little harder to deal with than I thought, but I'll save the reflection for a future post. Thanks so much for all your help and support along the way... but most of all I'd really like to thank my beautiful wife. With H I would never have been brave enough to dream the dreams nor had the support with which to live them.

See you next week,

T x

Close... but no cigar...

Well.... apologies for not posting at least a little something last Sunday. We didn't land back in the UK until very late on Monday night / Tuesday morning and since then I've been just about the busiest I've ever been with three days in a row of no more than four hours sleep and so much to do from the moment I wake up till the moment I fall into bed about 20 hours later. It's mostly been exciting stuff, Martin and I have just delivered a great presentation on Marathon Talk to the European Sponsorship Association at the BOA, so we're largely talking good busy... I am having to keep my eyes open with match sticks though and am focusing on getting through the next 36 hours before a lovely long weekend chilling out with my amazing wife :)

Thanks so much for all your belief and positive comments over the build up to Lanzarote, during the race, and then over the days since I crossed the line. At points I've been moved to tears by the sheer weight of support... I must have received messages from 150+ people and it's been truly life changing, and I don't say that lightly! The thing is, I'm doing nothing that millions of other people don't do every single day, it's just that I talk about it... it seems silly to me then that I should receive so much benefit when others are facing up to the same challenges with little or no recognition or support. I've got my thinking cap on and am dreaming up ways to spread all that positive energy around a bit... you'll have to leave that with me for a while though ;)

I'll leave my final, Ironman race report to the weekend but I'll briefly answer the two most common questions now...

1) Is it REALLY your final official Ironman?

Definitely - 100%! I'm entered in The Outlaw on the 8th of August and will be looking to bow out of triathlon in style. Nottingham rather than Kona will be the final destination of this wonderful journey.

2) How do you feel about it?

Actually, a lot worse than I thought I would. Don't get me wrong, I'm managing to keep things in perspective and feel truly privileged to have had the opportunity to complete six Ironman events... and am really proud to be able to look back and honestly say I couldn't have given even one more heart beat of effort to the five year journey. It really is only a game and there are FAR more important things in life. The fact that I'm unlikely to ever reach the start line of the most iconic triathlon in the World leaves me feeling really sad though, and the added disappointment that a 3.31 run would have done the job is so disappointing.

Anyway, there you go... tune in next week for the gory details of my Lanzarote roller-coaster,

T

Race week...

Managed to steal a couple of minutes to post a quick blog entry... will try and post something later this week but may not get the chance so this could be the final entry till the race.

Don't forget you can follow us via twitter.com/tomstraining every single day (don't need to be a Twitter user).

We had a remarkably trouble free journey over here and have settled straight into the chilled out Lanzarote lifestyle. I rode the northern end of the bike course on Sunday, went for a nice 10k run with H yesterday and swam a lap of the swim course this morning. I do still feel tired, particularly in the legs but with every single day things are getting better and I'm actually starting to feel a little confident!

This evening Mart and I will be recording Marathon Talk over Skype and we have a great interview with American running sensation Ryan Hall so don't forget to tune in on Wednesday. Tomorrow it's race prep day with a lap of the swim at the same time as race start, breakfast, a quick ride of the first and last few miles of the bike and then a few miles of the run course in the heat of the day. Then at 3pm it's massage time and feet up. Thursday will be a complete rest day and be spent mostly at La Santa for registration and the race briefing and then Friday see's back racking and an early night... not! Saturday... well, we'll see about that ;)

As for my race plans... I need to stay positive in the swim, with no idea of how fast you're swimming or what position you;re in it's easy to let the negative feelings creep in. It will be what it will be and I'll need to stay positive and swim smart... high cadence to reduce the power needed per stroke, plenty of hanging on peoples feet and a focus on technique technique technique. From then on I'll be putting everything absolutely on the line, if you're following me on the internet please don't get excited until you see a finish time, I will be on the limit all the way and holding nothing back... the potential for mid-race detonation is very real.

I felt that throughout the training for and racing at Ironman Switzerland I was playing the numbers game and doing just enough to get my sub 9.30 and qualify... 9.28 did happen but qualifying didn't (missed by three mins) and despite a massive PB it was probably the worst I've felt about a performance in a long time! As you know, this year has never been about just getting to the start line or doing 'enough'... it's been about giving absolutely everything for one final time, laying all my cards on the table and seeing where they fall. I can honestly say that I couldn't have given even one more heartbeat to my training for Ironman Lanzarote, I've been right to the edge and amazed myself not to have fallen over it, I really have taken myself to the brink, furtther than I ever thought possible and I have no interest in going through those dark winter days again.. this then is it. Whatever happens on Saturday I will invest every available drop of effort into the 140.6 miles and whatever my time is, whether I qualify or not and even if I don't finish I'll know that I really truly gave it everything...

Speak soon,

T

Everything... nearly...

First of all, apologies for the delay in getting this week's blog post published, our home internet went down just before the weekend and BT only got round to fixing it late last night...

Well, with tonight's Pool Triangle 20k time trial the final challenging session left before I toe the line in Lanzarote, what could be my final ever Ironman training block is pretty much over. For the last 14 and a bit weeks my goal has been to get to this stage feeling like I've given it absolutely everything possible and therefore maximise my chances of taking this journey to it's intended final journey... Kona. People often say that 'you always feel like you could have done a bit more', well I certainly don't! The last four months have been by far the most challenging of my life, with low's like I've never known and many many times when not only have I felt like throwing in the towel but I have actually chucked it all in. Time and time again I've managed to talk myself round, get back in the saddle, and push on for just 'one more time'. Suddenly, I find myself just ten days from the greatest challenge of my life and yes, I absolutely, positively could not have given even one more heart beat.

This Sunday I had scheduled my final big session, every year I do what I like to call my 'mega-brick' - a close to Iron distance ride followed by a close to Ironman pace 20 mile run - and despite the odd (supportive) suggestion to save it for the race, it had been written in stone ever since the same session got the better of me prior to last year's Lanzarote race. Sometimes you need to do something just for yourself, despite the fact that it might not be the best thing to do... I realise that it was only two weeks after the London Marathon and more importantly less than two weeks (just) before Lanzarote... but my goal this year has never been about simply getting to the start line and if I was going to feel like I'd truly given it everything then this session had to at least been attempted.

The bike is 'only' 83 miles but as six laps of a super hilly loop (see below) with a total ascent of around 1,600 feet per lap i.e. close to 10,000 feet total and several climbs per lap that require a near max effort just to reach the top I'd suggest that it's at least a tough a route as Lanzarote itself. Last year I'd started off well but blown to pieces after four of the six laps, finishing in with a ride time of five hours and 12 minutes... this year was a different story though with laps of 47, 48, 48, 50, 50, and 50 minutes bringing me home in under five hours and full of confidence.

Starting out on the run (half mile out and back up the nice and flat Castley Lane) I was intent to match the previous five hours but within just a few hundred metres I knew I was in trouble. I managed to fall into 7.10-7.20 per mile pretty comfortably and my legs felt great... my body was saying otherwise though and a combination of a really bad stitch, severe muscle pain in my neck and an overwhelming desire to lie down and go to sleep (what the?) suddenly took me back to Germany 08 and the suffering that was 42.2 miserable kilometres. By mile five it was clear that I was in trouble and, despite opinions to the contrary, I'm actually quite sensible and knew then that a) it would only get worse and b) if I tried to push on not only could it do some serious damage but my whole five year journey might end there and then. So, I turned down the engines and jogged it in to mile ten where I drew a line under my training for Lanzarote 2010.

On reflection? I'm really pleased with myself for attempting the session, no-one ever achieved anything through a lack of belief and commitment. I truly believe that once you have chosen a path you have to believe in that choice with 100% conviction, at the same time however there may come a point where that choice needs to be revised in order to protect the main objective. Had this been four or more weeks from my A race I may well have pushed on but with just 13 days between then and Lanzarote in which to drag myself into 'all-time' condition it was clear to me that I had to stop. Besides, I know that my running is better than it has ever been with 6:40 per mile in London feeling super comfortable just two weeks ago. Sometimes it just isn't there and you just have to be thankful that it wasn't during the main event, I will however take some great lessons through to the race...

1) I'll reduce the amount of energy I get from bars and increase the number of gels as the stitch problem may well have been related.
2) I'll hit the caffeine from about four hours into the bike and then continue through the run.
3) I'll work hard on upper back and neck mobility over the next ten days as that stiffness proved a serious limiter once I tried to stand up straight and run tall.
4) I'll concentrate on good quality sleep and rest (obvious really) from now on as tiredness clearly played a part in my struggles on the run.
5) To ride sub five hours on that course in full winter gear (it was freezing) shows that I'm in the best bike form of my life so have faith and be brave - I know I can run.

So, that's about it... tonight's my final hit-out with a crack at the Pool Triangle and then we're off to Lanzarote on Saturday (Icelandic volcano permitting).

I'll be updating from Lanza every day via my twitter feed (twitter.com/tomstraining) and my Facebook account (come and say hi here) and although you should be able to follow the race via Ironman.com I would suggest that H's Facebook and Twitter updates from my iphone will provide the best race-day info.

Next week, I'll blog from Lanza, although it might be a little late and then tune in on Sunday the 23rd for what may or may not be the last ever entry to what has been a wonderful adventure...

In ten days we'll know,

T

I've seen the light...

In fact, not only have seen the light… I can almost touch it!

This morning I enjoyed a really great five hour ride, in the Dales, with my good mate and cycling sensation Guy Willard. We were both after a pretty easy time so the conversation flowed all the way round and the warm Yorkshire sun did it’s best to keep us company and the dark clouds at bay. As we dropped down into Burnsall (home of the finest flapjacks in the world via the subject of today’s photo – credit to Guy) the conversation turned to this blog and thoughts around how it’s documented what has been a pretty special journey. If there’s one thing that I feel we perhaps haven’t captured as vividly as I would have liked it’s the many low points which have been surprisingly frequent on the road to achieving our athletic dreams… a road which has so often taken us outside of anything remotely resembling a comfort zone.

Whenever I’ve been in the midst of these dark times the last thing on my mind has been to tell the world… partly because I don’t want people to think I’m looking for some kind of sympathy or attention, but largely because, at the time, I don’t particularly feel like writing about it. Quite often I’ve sat there deep in thought, wondering why I seem so determined to take myself to the edge of sanity again and again... the idea of capturing the moment through a quick video diary has flashed through my mind… then quickly passed out the other ear, only to re-surface at a later date when all is once again well in the world and the moment has been lost forever.

Why do I feel that it’s so important to get my somewhat depressing message across? The thing is, as with lots of difficult and challenging times in life, we so often sweep the tough stuff under the carpet in order to paint a rosy picture of how amazing everything is. Now, I’m all for a little positivity from time to time but it’s a fact of life that pretty much anyone who has ever achieved something special has equally been through periods of doubt and despair. In fact, I’d go as far as suggesting that there would be a strong relationship between achievement and ‘challenge’… delve deep enough into the history of your most inspirational heroes and I’ll bet you anything that they’ve experienced lows that you or I could only dream of.  The problem if we don’t talk about these times in our lives is that when we find ourselves in the depths of despair we feel like it’s only us, it’s something we’re doing wrong and that the best course of action would probably be to give up on our ‘unrealistic’ dreams… after all,  Kelly Holmes, Steve Redgrave or Paula Radcliffe never had a bad day … right?

So, I have two challenges for you, assuming you’ve set yourself the target of achieving something amazing (note: anything – it’s your dream not mine – but if you do one thing in life, do something amazing)… when the going gets tough and you feel like throwing in the towel tell as many people as you think will listen, let them know that it’s completely normal, you’re not doing anything wrong and that with the right support and positive re-enforcement you WILL get there. Secondly, if someone confides in you with their own trials and tribulations then believe in them, support them and take inspiration from another person putting themselves on the line and challenging their dreams.

Life… if it was easy they’d all be doing it ;)

T

p.s. Thirteen of the sixteen weeks down and I’m still bang on target with 208 hours deposited in the cycling bank. With three weeks to go I’ve got through the two weeks either side of the marathon, which I knew would be hardest, and only have the small matter of my traditional ‘mega-brick’ (five hour hilly ride followed by a 20 mile run) next Sunday (9^th May) before we're off for some fun in the sun. The last three weeks have been by far the most challenging of my life and contained the appropriate number of ‘lows’ but with just one blog left before landing in Lanza… I just may have seen the light ;)