Overtraining: The Imperfect Storm

Today I did a brick session that totally took it out of me: I watched a 50-minute episode of Boardwalk Empire and went straight into a 30 minute nap. Phew, it was tough. So tough, in fact, I needed to follow it with a cuppa tea and another nap. Welcome to the very special place that I'm in – where overtraining and illness collide.

Triathlon, they say, isn't a hobby so much as a lifestyle and, if you're anything like me, that statement doesn't just refer to the early morning training sessions and weekends riding out on the roads, so much as the monstrous appetite for news, views, interviews and reviews on all things swim/bike/run. If you share my voracious appetite for triathlon information, chances are you'll have read articles about overtraining before; if you share my odd mix of stupidity and sense of invincibility, chances are you read them thinking 'well that'll never happen to me'. But it did.

Now it has, there are two main thoughts:

a) Well, I didn't see that coming.

b) How the hell did I not see that coming.

Before explaining how I arrived at this point, I'll first explain how I knew I'd got there. Last Friday, I was racing in the Aerofit Sprint Triathlon in Ghantoot. The swim didn't feel good but sometimes they don't, and my time was decent enough. Then came the bike – my initial thought was that I had a flat tyre but I looked down and saw I didn't. I must be riding into a huge headwind then, I thought. Hitting the turnaround point, I realised this wasn't the case. Why did I think these things? Because I usually average around 40kph on this bike section; on Friday, as hard as I was trying, I was barely getting over 35! I stuck with it to the end of the 20k bike – by which point I'd been overtaken by athletes who are fine racers but I know shouldn't be anywhere near me. I headed out a few steps on the run and my whole body moaned, while a shooting pain of sciatica felt like I'd just taken a bullet in the arse cheek! For the first time since I started doing triathlon, I pulled out. I walked over to where our coach, Jason, and one of the most experienced guys on our team, Ed, were stood watching and they both knew what as going on before did. “You're fried, mate. You're flat as a tack.”

I got home and looked up overtraining syndrome. Most sites said you'll probably display some of the following signs – I had them all:

• Drop-off in ability to perform at the same levels – especially in the likes of a TT situation YES, see that morning's race
• Inability to raise the heart rate
  YES, in spite of all my efforts that morning, my heart rate had rarely climbed above 130bpm!
• Soreness and aching in the joints
  YES, from the minute I started the swim, which is unusual
• A general passiveness, apathy or lack of enthusiasm
  YES, had generally been a bit down on triathlon and training all week, found it hard to get up for this race (again, out of the ordinary) and even while out there on the bike doing almost 5kph slower than usual, I just sort of excepted it... which isn't like me

So, after establishing that I definitely was overtrained, I then looked at how I'd gotten there.

Again, I turned to our ever-faithful, always-accurate friend, Senor Internetto. He said that overtraining usually occurs for one or more of the following reasons:

• A general increase in training volume and/or intensity
• Lack of rest and recovery time (general as well as between workouts)
• Experiencing high levels of emotional and physical stress in other areas of your life
• Other illnesses, infections or conditions affecting your physical health

I don't want to seem like teacher's pet, but I've got a full house, and this is where it all started to make sense. You see, the reason I didn't see this coming was that I didn't feel 'overtrained' in terms of purely doing too much training. Yes, I was putting a lot of kilometres in, but my body was holding up to that fine – I felt less fatigued and achey than I had at times in the past. However, there's no doubting that I was training pretty hard, so that's the first box ticked.

Working in publishing is fun and exciting, but a stress-free 9 to 5 it certainly isn't and, from around 5 Jan, for the next month, I was in the office every single day, averaging 60 hours per week. Make that 60 pretty stressful hours and me still trying to fit in all my training around that (averaging 4 or 5 hours sleep a night) and you can tick boxes two and three. In fact, the cold sores that I hadn't suffered from for 10 years made an unwelcome return at this point – known as a stress-related condition, this is another sign I totally missed.

And the final box? I'd been struggling with stomach aches and cold-like symptoms all week and had gone light in training for just that reason. But after Friday morning, when I stopped and excepted I was run down, it hit me with the force of a fat kid diving into a swimming pool. Cut a long story short, I've been in bed for most the past five days and have been off work for three days. I have a full-on dose of the flu (not man flu or what people call the flu when they have some sniffles) but a proper flu virus, with a respiratory tract infection as a kicker. So, overtraining aside, I was properly ill going into the tri on Friday and just didn't know it.

So, there are the signs and the symptoms; if you're reading this and any of those sound familiar, I'd urge you to take a step back and give yourself a few days off to consider where you're at and if you might be pushing a bit too hard. It's difficult – it's not in triathletes' natures to do this as we tend to operate on a 'work harder get better results' MO. But maybe that should be 'work smarter'.

Tomorrow: the road to recovery.

Rest for the wicked

It’s been three or four days since I last posted and, given that last time I reported that I’d been hit by a dose of the often-deadly man flu, many of you doubtlessly feared the worst and thought that maybe I didn’t make it.

Fortunately, I’m a brave soldier with a steely nerve and a robust immune system. Even in the darkest moments, when I was sneezing my way through a pack of tissues, dropping Strepsil like Smarties and downing yet another glass of OJ, I refused to give up hope. ‘Not like this,’ I said. ‘Not now.’

Amazingly, I have survived but medical students of the future will not study up on my case just yet because I’m not quite out of the woods. I thought I’d kicked this man flu’s ass yesterday but today I feel a little run down again and the dreaded ‘tickly cough and sniffles’ have returned. But not enough to stop me racing in tomorrow’s Aerofit Sprint Triathlon down in Ghantoot.

In fact, aside from the obvious inconvenience of basically being on death’s door, it’s been an enjoyable week as I took almost three full days off training and have gone very, very easy for the rest, with just one swim, a one hour bike ride and 90 minutes of running to show for the week. And, again, other than being ravaged by a life-threatening man flu virus, my body feels good – rested and recovered for the first time in a while.

This actually reminded me that my best two performances this year came on the back of small bouts of illness – and, therefore, enforced rest. So, rather than the usual attitude whereby extended rest days just remind me of what I’m not doing, I’m trying to think of this week (and next... as I do a small taper for the Abu Dhabi International Triathlon) as ‘improvement recovery’ – a necessary time required in order to continue my progress not ‘missing out’.

The lull in training has also given me time to reflect and there are a few conclusions.

 This may well just be a bug that’s going around that I’d have picked up anyway (half of Dubai appears to be under the weather), but I’ve been going too hard for too long. That’s not necessarily about training – just training combined with 60 hour/ 7 day working weeks and trying to keep up something resembling a social life. I can and (as IM Austria approaches) will train more but I need to find a balance. If work does take over for a few days or a week here and there, then sessions have to give way rather than be rammed in at 10pm or 3am... that simple.

Like anyone who rushes from one thing to the next discovers, you may do more things but the quality suffers. I suspect that, although I’ve been racking up some good kilometres over the past month or so, the quality hasn’t been great. I read a really good piece of advice about that recently which said you should identify your three (probably one each sport) key sessions each week and hit them hard. The rest you cruise. I like this sort of simplification and will be trying it out in March.

So, ready, sniffling, and sort of raring to race. And aside from the race, this weekend I’ve around six hours of training to fit in. Sounds a lot but not that much.

Old me: Easy. Smash the race, get yourself to a brunch, grab a few hours’ drunken kip, sea swim, five hour bike ride, coach dirt run and then make it to the pub for a football/rugby beerathon!

New me: It’s a big weekend of both training and racing. Smash the race. Focus on recovery, and have an easy day of chores, a movie and maybe even a well-earned nap. On Saturday, keep the sea swim steady (it’s not my key swim for the week), cut the bike ride to an easy 2.5-3hrs and see how the legs feel for the run. If there’s time, a couple of drinks watching Wales smash France in the Six Nations would be lovely – but, if not, just watch it at home.

I guess sometimes, when you come this close to man flu-related death, it just makes you look back on your life and make some changes. And nobody, as we’re always told, ever lies on their death bed and utters the immortal words “I wish I’d spent more time in work”. Although I’m pretty sure plenty of people have looked up and friends and family, as their grip on this mortal coil slowly started to loosen, and whispered: “Bugger, if only I’d stayed between 60-65% maximum heart rate on my Monday night bike rides...”

RAK it up to experience

Sometimes, you go into a race feeling nervous, undertrained, achey, unsure, and you cross the finish line in a cracking new PB after a performance that almost felt easy. Other times, the opposite happens; in short, this weekend was a bit of a disaster for me.

As you’ll know if you read my last post, I was happy and confident going into this weekend’s half marathon in Ras Al Khaimah, feeling fit and hoping to go sub-1.30 for the first time. The first clue that not everything would go perfectly came on Wednesday, when I woke with a bit of man flu and, later in the day, started having quite bad stomach aches.

Thursday, neither of these things had become any worse although I only got a couple of hours’ sleep on Wednesday night and that is usually a decent sign that illness is on its way for me. Friday morning, I woke at 4, got ready, picked up my friend Lou who was also racing, and drove to RAK (an hour or so north of Dubai). I didn’t feel good, but I didn’t feel bad. I thought I’d be OK.

Let’s skip now to the 16km mark. At the Creek Striders half marathon in December, that I was less well prepared for, the 16km mark is where it really started to hurt. Here in RAK, sticking to the required 4.15/km pace, it’s now been really, really hurting for, well... hmmm... er, divide by two, carry the one... approximately 15.9kms. It’s a horror show.

Reasons for the horror show:

a)      There’s a sandstorm blowing in. While this, helpfully, obscures the view of RAK city, it makes running unpleasant and breathing even more so. And running into the wind is tiring.

b)      Due to big swimmers’ thighs that have a natural propensity for chaffing, I’ve usually run in lycra shorts in the past but, recently, slimmerline Matt has been fine in normal running shorts. This is the wrong choice. At the 4km mark, there’s actual blood... I’ll not go into any more detail in case you’re eating.

c)       The tummy bug is paying a return visit and my stomach now feels like I’ve done 16 pints and 16 rounds with Ricky Hatton – not 16kms of a run.

d)      Whether it’s a combination of the above or something else entirely, I’m feeling flat.

So, I stop to do a little mini chunder at the roadside and then start to define victory as making it to a portaloo. By this point, I know the sub-1.30 is out of the question and feel so sore and despondent that I think about  pulling out entirely. But quitting sucks. Plus, I’m right at the furthest point from the start/finish, so there’s only one way back. I have to walk a little longer but then break into a jog.

I’m fine on around 5min/kms but then I do a little mental calculation and work out that a PB could still be on the cards anyway. So I jog my way back in to a 1.33 finish and, I think, a PB by a few seconds. I jog straight through the finish line. I jog past the medals and the drinks. I jog past the young lass removing timing chips from shoes. And I jog to the nearest portaloo. Then I jog to the car where a pair of tracksuit bottoms await. And then, knowing that Lou will be another 20-30 minutes behind, I put the car seat back, curl into a foetal position and nap. It’s pathetic. And I’m sure any ladies reading this will mock horrifically... but I’m in real pain!

But wait, didn’t I say the whole weekend was a bit of a disaster – not just Friday morning? Ah, how observant you are! So, I crawl into bed early on Friday night, sleep like the dead, and awake at 6.20 on Saturday morning. I stand up, sheepishly, testing my body for aches and pains. Sore legs – of course. Stomach feels like I’ve been on the receiving end of a gangland beating? Oh yes. But...

And so I head down to the beach for the morning sea swim session with the rest of the team (or the ones who aren’t over in Sri Lanka absolutely destroying the rest of the field in the inaugural IM 70.3 over there). Everyone’s in good spirits and, as ever, that lifts mine too.

Meanwhile, somewhere up above, Mother Nature scratches her matronly hair-do. “I’ve given him a cold, a stomach bug, stirred up a sand storm and gave him thighs that could chafe in a vat of Vaseline, but he’s still not getting the message. What do I need to do to make this idiot stop?” she ponders.

After just four laps of the buoys (we’re aiming for 12 in total – each lap being around 250-300m), Mother Nature has decided to drop all semblance of subtlety and makes her next move... a jelly fish stings me all over the face. It’s tough to scream like a little girl when your face is underwater, but I think the sound I make goes something like: “GNHHHHHHHHHHHEEEUUTHYYYYYYYAAAAAEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!”

Being a bonafide moron I do, of course, attempt another lap but by now my eyes are watering so much my goggles won’t stay on. I admit defeat and head to Starbucks to make an early start on the team breakfast. With the wind once again running riot outside, I decide against the steady bike ride I had pencilled in – it would have surely lead to riding into a ditch – and swap it for a steady two hour spin on the turbo trainer instead.

And so to Sunday morning. I awake with a head that is purplish in colour and perfectly spherical. Whether this is a reaction to the jelly fish that tried to snog me or the hideous bout of man flu that landed on my head during the night, I really can’t tell and am passed caring.

Message received. Time for a few days off, I think!

Tomorrow... racing, RAK and the big MP3 question

Ever heard the song Tomorrow by 90s Manchester Indie poppers James (aye, them of Sit Down fame)? It’s a proper tune (or ‘choooon’ as I believe all the cool cats are saying nowadays). If not, check it out; if so, wrap your sound conches around it again – you’ll not regret it, promise.

So, what’s the reason for this random musical interlude (is it an interlude if it comes right at the beginning? Maybe an Introlude...)? Well, I’ll tell you... I’m racing tomorrow, and I’m pretty excited about it.

It’s the RAK Half Marathon and, aside from being one of the UAE’s biggest events (popular, well attended, fantastically organised), it also means I’ll be lining up with (OK, quite a bit behind) some of the biggest stars of distance running, like Olympic favourites Mary Keitany and Geoffrey Mutai.

Mary and Geoffrey: world-class runners in spite of sounding like a middle aged couple who run the village pub.

It’s quite a ‘loopy’ course is RAK, which is great as it means you get to see plenty of the greats in full flow. And what a sight that is – although not because they look incredibly fast, but quite the opposite; like anyone who’s world-class in any field, they make it look so easy. Relaxed, fluid, controlled – they tick off their sub 3 minute kilometres.

Looking at the sweating, panting mess of cramps and agony that I – and everyone around me – have become, it’s insane to think we’re even doing the same sport as these elites. Then again, looking at their ‘5ft-nowt 30 kilos when wet right through’ frames, it’s insane to think we’re even the same species.

Me and Geoffrey Mutai. He's a lovely kid.

So, ambitions for tomorrow. Last year I did 1:36. A few months ago, based on not much long running at all, I did a 1:33 at the CreekStriders Half. RAK is, undoubtedly, a fast course, so my target is sub-1:30 for the first time. I’m certainly not taking that for granted but am also quietly confident – my triathlon programme has included a weekly 20-26km run for the past 7 weeks or so and I feel like I’m running pretty well. I’m trying to also back myself a bit this time – I think my lack of confidence in my running actually means I run within myself a little from time to time. This time, I’m going to leave it all out there, like a forgetful flasher. The pain cave has been located – I plan to set up camp within for most the race.

Insofar as strategy goes, it’s 4:15s all the way. I suspect that, by the last 2km, I’ll be holding on for dear life if I even make it that far holding the 4:15s, but if not then I’ll use whatever I have left. Us triathletes rarely need a excuse to bust out the technology or spend a few quid on some high-end geekery, but it’s for races like this that my Garmin 310xt really comes into its own, telling me my exact pace at the time and average pace overall. If you’re a runner (or triathlete) who doesn’t have a GPS watch, then I’d really recommend it as both a training and racing aid.  

So, looks like I have it all under control, right? Wrong. I have one big dilemma. While I love a bit of MP3 action for training (I think there’s a whole post on favourite training podcasts to come soon), I’m usually resolutely against using them for racing. For a start, you’re not allowed them in the vast majority of triathlons. But it’s also something about being in the moment, feeding off the atmosphere and hearing the breathing and steps of all the runners around you... I think of that mental challenge as every bit as important as the physical one. On the other hand, while RAK is a nice course for seeing the top dogs do their thing, RAK city makes Warsaw look like Florence. If it were a young lass at a school disco, it’d be the one who never got a snog at the end. If it were a dog, it’d be this guy...

“U. G. L. Y. It ain’t got no alibi, RAK’s ugly, hu-huh...” as Daphne and Celeste almost once wisely philosophised. (OK, how many of you actually sung that in your heads while reading it... come on, admit it!)

So, a little distraction goes a long way. But is it right, or even helpful, to drown out the sounds of the race? Hmm... I’m not so sure. If I do, it’ll have to be music rather than podcasts and, unlike every gym on earth that seems to be convinced everybody likes working out to dreadful Eurotrance, I love a bit of high tempo indie rock and roll when I’m running.

[Note to all aspiring writers out there, Master class # 1 coming up: always bookend with an allusion to what you mentioned at the beginning... now, pay attention.]

So, Bullet withButterfly Wings (Smashing Pumkins) is always on the MP3, as is my all time fave song ever in the history of the world ever full stop amen, The Rat (The Walkmen):

Love a bit of Born ToRun (Frankie or Bruce, doesn’t matter which...), The Bucket (KoL back when they were good... remember?), Moving to New York (The Wombats), and pretty much anything by The Vaccines or The Libertines. Oh, and you know what other tune I like (there you go...you got there before me, didn’t you)?

Ever heard the song Tomorrow by 90s Manchester Indie poppers James (aye, them of Sit Down fame)? It’s a proper tune...

[Tadaaaaaa!]

Immediate Inspiration

These are crazy days and fast times we live in, guys and gals. You want a burger? BAM – there it is, mamsir. Can’t bear the thought of waiting till you get home to check your emails? BOOM – get a face full of iPhone technomagic, email man. Had a random or ill-conceived thought about triathlon – KERPOW, you’ve already broadcasted it to the world via your blog, Matt.

We don’t have time to go the supermarket, so we order online. We don’t want a 120 page book, we want a 120 minute movie. A philosophy, religion, or complex set of morals and beliefs? Pah, we’d prefer a sound bite.

And I’m more guilty than most. As my long-time blog readers know, I’m a sucker for a good quote. I love it when someone neatly sums up in one sentence what it takes me hours to explain haphazardly and unconvincingly. And I borrow their words liberally.

But surely sports are the antithesis to this quick and easy results-in-a-can stuff. Sports, and endurance sports in particular, take years and years of hard training; they require meticulous preparation and absolute understanding. Athletes must work and work at improvements while coaches must fine-tune a strategy shaped by year after year of experience. Maybe that’s what we love most about endurance sports and triathlon; their ability to cock a snook (how I love that expression!) at these million-mile-an-hour times?

But, a couple of days ago, Ironman champ and all-round superhero chiselled from the bulging biceps of Zeus himself, ChrissieWellington, asked her Twitter followers for the single best piece of coaching advice they’d ever received... in 140 characters or less, of course.

Given that this is Twitter and, therefore, any loon with access to a laptop and half a brain cell can reply, there were of course a few responses that were so saccharine that Monsieur Camambert of Roquefort Square, Cheshire Row, Stiltonville would dismiss them as being a wee bit on the cheesy side. Try these on for size:

“ I was told ‘never forget how lucky you are to be doing what you are’. In other words, it's your pain, enjoy it.”  VOM!

"Do your best, forget the rest." EUUUURGHHHHUP!

“On eve of 1st IM, was told 'you don't HAVE to do this, you GET to do this!' With that, the nerves were cut in half :-)” AAAARGH! And an extra AAAARGH for the smiley face!

Slightly better than these were the ones that tried to be profound but came across a bit odd. I quite liked several of these with my favourite arguably being:

“Most useful tip from a friend when I was first contemplating the marathon: just keep running. and eat bananas." 

While wading through some utter dross, I was surprised to find a few titbits of genius, however. Of course, coaching is a precise art but, just once in a while, there’s a sentence that helps to make everything you’ve heard before make sense. For example, as a tall-ish triathlete with a background in swimming (broad shoulders) and beer drinking (broad gut), I sometimes find the whole weight/food balance thing problematic. I’ve gotten gradually leaner over the years (to the tune of about 30kgs, as it happens) and I’m now not big by any stretch of the imagination, but I reckon there’s another 4-5kgs that could be lost by IM Austria in July to make me a faster and more economic biker and runner. But that needs balancing with a shedload of training and propensity for bonking after an hour or so if I don’t take on calories. It’s hard to know where the line lies. Then I saw this:

“When I was concerned about cutting weight, a rowing coach said to me: 'Eat to perform and let the rest take care of itself.' “ Ahhh, suddenly it's so simple!

My favourite post, however, for being simultaneously a training truism and a Carry On style innuendo, was undoubtedly this:

“Chrissie, I found this Brett Sutton quote while researching you! ‘If it's not long, make sure it's hard’.”

So, what’s your favourite training or racing maxim? Is there a one-liner that helped the scales fall from your eyes? A simple piece of advice that made the world a clearer and more intelligible place to be – and train? If so, let me know - now, immediately, ASAP, this instant...

Wadi Bih Run race report

It’s 05:00 on a Friday morning in February and the beach just outside the Golden Tulip hotel in Dibba begins to rustle with movement. Usually an empty, sandy expanse, this morning it looks like the site of a festival – hundreds of tents are scattered across the beach; darker patches dotted across the sands are the telltale remains of camp fires and barbecues. Before long, hundreds of people swarm around but, rather than the traditional shorts, flip flops, band t-shirts and beach hats of festivalgoers the world over, here the uniform consists of vests, t-shirts, shorts, trainers and the occasional tutu.

Preparing pre sunrise (all images: wouterkingma.com/Nike)

Skip forward a few hours and this colourful, brave, energetic and – let’s face it – slightly mad group of early-risers are pounding and climbing and sweating and laughing their way through the legendary Wadi Bih valley that runs through the southern heart of the Musandam – the Omani enclave that is often referred to as the Fjords of Arabia, due to its stunning and dramatic topography.

What could inspire almost a thousand people to take to Wadi Bih with the sun not even fully risen above the mountains? The 20^th edition of the annual Wadi Bih Run – a relay event that sees teams of five tackle the 72km course from the Golden Tulip to the peak of Wadi Bih (more than 1,000m up) and back in stages that range from 1.9km to 4.2km in length. The rules are pretty easy: each team must have at least one female member; each member must cover at least 10km. Er, that’s it. Other than the first and last stages – which four members of the team do together – there’s one member out on the course at any given time, while the others follow or drive ahead in their 4WD. At the next checkpoint, someone jumps out of the 4WD, is handed the baton, and the previous stage’s runner jumps in for a well-deserved rest.

And how do I know so much about these strange, early morning creatures that are competing for little more than the pride of knowing they can? Well, today, I actually am one of them. When the people at Nike Middle East – the main sponsor for this running of Wadi Bih – heard that I was a bit of an endurance junkie, I was kitted out in new Nike Run gear, a pair of Lunarglide3s and thrown into their ‘elite’ team, faster than I could ask ‘erm, excuse me, but what the heck are Lunarglide 3s?’.

The term ‘elite’ was being used generously. Nike decided to enter three teams in total: team 197 was the media team; team 198 consisted of Nike Middle East management; and our team, 199 Movie Stars, contained Brian, Linda and Kerry – fitness professionals who all have associations with Nike – along with Dubai One’s Layne Redman and yours truly. We all met for the first time on the night before the race as we manfully pitched our tents on the beach just outsi... OK, OK, Nike had reserved us some relatively luxurious digs at the Absolute Adventures camp just a few hundred metres from the race start. Over dinner, we began to plot our strategy. Then we got distracted. Then we went to bed.

Team 197 look raring to go (all images: wouterkingma.com/Nike)

Cut to 06:50 the next morning and, with the other two teams having already set off (teams can leave at any time between 06:00 and 08:00), us ‘elites’ are still trying to find the right sheet on the clipboard and our baton seems to be MIA. Layne emerges from behind a camera – he’s recording segments for his Out & About show – with the baton in hand and I discover not only the correct sheet but also a map, a list of stage distances and a vague understanding of the task at hand. Finally, we’re ready for business.

Just after 07:00, the five of us set off looking like a perfectly unified and integrated mean machine, each member strong enough to tackle the entire 72km solo... until 300m later I jump into our Toyota Land Cruiser and drive alongside the other four for the first 1km section. There, at checkpoint 1, three of the four jump in with me while Linda stays out on the road to tackle the first 3.2km section. For a while, we drive alongside, shouting out encouragement, before heading off to the next checkpoint to wait for her; there, I limber up as I’ve been elected the carrier of our baton through the next 3.8km.

My first section - tackling a hill (all images: wouterkingma.com/Nike)

The terrain, at this point, is still tarmac. I climb a steep hill and sprint back down the other side and the road gives way to gravel and dust. Breathing hard, lungs burning, sweat forming, I see all the 4WDs in the distance waiting for their runners; I decide that, for my own sense of self-worth alone, I need to overtake the girl just a few hundred metres ahead before I hand over the baton – after all, she is wearing a tutu. Ego intact, just, I pass over to Kerry.

The route winds its way through the mountains of Musandam (all images: wouterkingma.com/Nike)  

And so it continues. The day becomes a fantastic, enjoyable and unique cocktail of competitiveness (we’d already overtaken one Nike team, we wanted the other too), military planning (‘if we send out our two strongest runners next, we can break the spirit of that team with the inflatable donkey strapped to the roof,’ we strategise) and just plain wonder at the stunning backdrop that the mountains and valleys of Musandam provide at every corner. Sometimes, while right there in the middle of something, you don’t appreciate or completely revel in it, but that isn’t the case for me here; I know that the Wadi Bih Run is a completely unique and special experience and try to lap it all up both as a runner and passenger.

Layne passes the baton and I set off on my next section (all images: wouterkingma.com/Nike)   

The team performs admirably. While not egging each other on, geeing up the next runner or trading good-natured smack talk with rival teams, we’re generally picking off the teams ahead and have only seen one or two, very professional looking teams, come past us. It bodes well, we decide. ‘Ha, take that, team of overweight middle-aged ladies...’, ‘In your face, computer boffin team’, ‘Eat our dust, team dressed up as Egyptian pharaohs!’

Teams spread out along the dusty road (all images: wouterkingma.com/Nike)

The couple of stages leading to the midway section, however, are a little less fun and progress slows somewhat, as most of the 1000m of climbing comes here. Brian, a TRX instructor and Nike Master Trainer, proves that they make them tough in Scotland and heaves himself up the more difficult first section; I take over for the second part which ends at the halfway point and, as Layne takes the baton, the rest of us whip out our cameras and attempt to capture the incredible views over Musandam that the halfway marker provides.

The hard switchbacks - hard on the way up, fun on the way down (all images: wouterkingma.com/Nike)

It’s downhill most of the way back – literally rather than figuratively – and we keep plugging away and putting in hard stints. The beauty of this run is that it’s a relay (at least, it is for the 200 teams; incredibly, 30-odd hardy individuals take on the whole 72km route solo!) so, even for those with minimal running experience, it’s eminently achievable; simply grit your teeth and jog through your 3km and then you’ve an hour or so to recover. That’s not to say that it’s easy either; for the more experienced teams, each section becomes an all-out sprint and 18km of sprinting (as all my sections add up to) isn’t easy in anyone’s book. Another challenge, I discover, is that I stiffen up in the 4WD between my run sections.   

Breathing hard but having fun on the final hill (all images: wouterkingma.com/Nike)

Finally, after heroic final runs from each member of the team, we hand over the car keys to one of the photographers who’d been with us throughout and head down the final kilometre, back to the Golden Tulip, as a team of five. One of the things I love most about endurance sports (triathlon is my usual poison) is the sense of shared achievement and camaraderie that you feel with fellow racers and that’s here in the wadi-load, but there’s also a genuine sense of fondness and fellowship that’s built up between our team during the 5:54 we spent out there together. As we sprint across the finish line and straight into the poolside buffet at the hotel, it’s clear that all the other teams feel the same. We drain coke cans and hoover down plates of chicken curry as we compare war stories from our morning in the wadi.

The team congratulates each other after crossing the finish line (all images: wouterkingma.com/Nike)

That time [something suspicious happened here - we all had our time as 5:43, which would have earned us 20th overall, but the 'official' timing differed a little...hmmmm] sees us finish 31^st of 197 – a good effort for debutants – and we beat the other two Nike teams, both of whom ran impressively. But, in the end, even for the winners, I wager that the result matters little. As the last bottles of water are downed, tents are shoved roughly back into cars and exhaustion finally starts to take hold of our weary limbs, what’s truly important is that, one morning, a thousand people came together to test themselves against a course that Mother Nature has marked out over thousands of years. And, to a man (oh, and minimum of one woman per team), I recon we’ll all be back to do it again next year.

Have you read my latest blag post?

It’s a maxim as well worn as the caffeine-stained mugs, heavily scrawled-upon diary pages, and scratched mouse pads that adorn the offices of newspapers and magazines around the world: journalists, they say, live a rich man’s life on a poor man’s wage.

That’s certainly been true for me; it’s a profession that I love – the opportunity for creativity, the amazing interviewees, even the coffee and pizza fuelled thrill of hitting a midnight deadline – but it’s also incredibly hard work. Luckily, once in a while, there are some very special rewards that help to balance the 50 hour weeks and working weekends and holidays.

Over the years, these have probably added up to thousands of pounds’ worth of hotel rooms, meals and press trips. Then there are the freebies that get sent to the office.

Although I’ve done things that I’d never be able to afford in real life, the greatest privilege of my chosen profession has been when I’ve had the opportunity to do things that money can’t buy. Being drivenaround the Ascari racetrack in southern Spain in a Koenigsegg CCX (that’s thecar that The Stig couldn’t control in Top Gear) by Christian von Koenigsegg, for example. Or watching the majority of a Man Utd v Arsenal match sat chatting on the phone to Rod Stewart (knows his football, does Rod).

Recently, the PR team at Abu Dhabi InternationalTriathlon invited me to take part in that event – something I was more than happy and willing to do. There’ll be other members of the media taking part too – most doing the relay or the sprint race, but a couple of brave souls also tackling the ‘short course’ like me. At Abu Dhabi, ‘short’ is a somewhat misleading term: 1500m swim/100km bike/10km run (the long course is double, making the bike section notably longer than an Ironman).

In order to get us all ready for the event, the organisers have given us access to key figures involved and this is where, once again, I find I’m pinching myself. A few weeks ago, just four of us were put through our paces by UK pro triathlete and highly-rated coach Richard Allen. On Tuesday night, another group of us were given access to ex Ironman World Champ and captain of Abu Dhabi Tri Team Faris Al-Sultan, and the Abu Dhabi Tri Team manager (and ex pro triathlete) Dr Werner Leitner.

Of course, most of these sessions were pitched at beginners – and what an amazing opportunity that is, like having Nick Faldo and Sergio Garcia give you your first golf lesson – but I still picked up a few more advanced tips here and there on subjects like nutrition, warming-up, deep stretching and riding into the wind. I’ve been told I have quite a short stride length when I run – when I should really be using my height to my advantage – and Werner kindly showed me a few drills to incorporate into my runs to help improve that stride length and kick.

What I realised most of all, however, is that, while I still tend to think of myself as a relative newbie to triathlon and a bit of a pretender, that doesn’t wash anymore. I’ve been doing this a few years now, albeit maybe only a year with any degree of regularity and seriousness, but I know the vast majority of what there is to know; transitions are no longer mysterious zones of nerves and intimidation for me; I may get nutrition right or wrong on any given day, but I know what I’m aiming for; I hear and use words like ‘brick’, ‘drafting’ and ‘midfoot strike’; I’ve done small early season races in the UK with swims in a pool, and huge international races overseas. I may not be an experienced old-timer, but I’m a triathlete for sure.­ Going back to the parlance of my industry, I’m no longer “just blagging it”. That’s kind of cool.

The flip side of that is that these mini media camps reminded me of the nerves, horror and excitement that this mysterious sport of triathlon once brought. I heard the questions I’d once asked and felt the feelings I’d once felt, as these media newbies started their training or began stepping it up... it’s such a joyful feeling of achievement and one that I plan to never lose.

With that in mind, this weekend I’ll be part of the Nike-sponsored media team that’ll tackle the 72km (as a relay) Wadi Bih run through the mountains and gorges of Musandam. We’re not contenders; in fact, we’ll all just be happy to finish, and we’re going to have a great time doing it. Coz that’s what it’s all about. 

That and blagging free Nike swag, of course (I’m still a journalist, after all)!

Race Report: Skins Tri Series race 2

So, as I explained in my last dispatch from behind the front lines of triathlon blogging, February is all about lots of racing and it all kicked off this weekend with race 2 of the Skins Triathlon Series in Al Mamzar Park, which is right down near the Dubai-Sharjah border. It was my first Olympic distance race in a year.

Early morning in Mamzar

Now, I could point out a few shortcomings of this race here and there, but I’d like to instead say that it was generally well run and the organisation has definitely improved several-fold over a similar race (same location and organiser) I took part in 14 months ago. So credit where credit is due. As athletes, we often point out what didn’t work (one section was long/short, the roads weren’t completely closed off to cars, they only had water at the aid station etc etc) but it’s important that we remember just how difficult any race is to put on – multiply that by three and you get a idea of how hard it is to get a triathlon logistically spot on. And without the efforts of these race organisers, we’re just a bunch of people who train a lot. I make a point of thanking all marshals and volunteers out on course whenever I race but, I decided while out on the bike in this race, from now on I’m going to make sure I thank the organisers too. So... cheers Super Sports Dubai.

The beach and the briefing

So, I could give you a full report on exactly how my race went. A blow-by-blow account of every last metre. But it wasn’t such a big one and who really cares about every thought that crossed my mind? So, here’s what’s important:

Getting zipped into my Blue Seventy Helix by my dad

SWIM: A bit short (1370m), four laps that made for lots of swimming over people, I swam well and felt strong, out in 18:20 in 1^st place. Good time tho no better than I expected.

T1: Fine.

Coming out of T1

BIKE: Bike was flat and fast though also very, very windy. Averaged 38kph which is pretty darn good for me. Came off in 1:02:50 – my previous best Oly distance bike had been around 1:07. Was now down to 2^nd but knew I was going to set a really good time if I could hold a run together.

Motoring past like a steam train (in my mind at least)

On my way to bike split PB

T2: Good.

RUN: Previous best Oly run off the bike was around 47:00. I knew I’m now running much better so had decided beforehand to hold 4:30s. I quickly lost position down to 4^th (but 3^rd in 19-39 AG as I knew that Stefan, who passed me for third, was in the 40-49 AG). I didn’t panic and reminded myself that I was there for the time. Also, as it was a low priority race for me, I didn’t want to go all-in and get injured or limit training. So, held the 4:30s and then gave it a bit more in last 2.5k. Run 42:00.

End of the road... mercifully!

RESULT: Held 4^th overall and 3^rd in AG. Final time officially given as 2:02:50 but I have to confess that I clocked it as 2:05:00! Either way, extremely happy.

This race represented my first ever triathlon podium (obviously had lots as a swimmer). More significantly, however, it was a MAHOOOSIVE PB over this distance and a big, big, big improvement in both my bike and my run. Remember when Jim Robinson from Neighbours popped up in The West Wing and 24...seriously, that kind of improvement! Plus, I know that, were this a bigger race, I probably had a little more to give in all three disciplines.

My first ever tri podium - rubbish medal, nice feeling!

This might have just been a small, local race but its significance was greater than that to me. It shows me that I’m on the right track and that all this training is paying off. In training, I’m surrounded by top-notch bikers and some superb runners and it’s easy to feel a little despondent and sluggish when measuring yourself against them. Running, in particular, is a continuous frustration for me – but this shows that I am getting there, that one day I might be able to run well enough to back up my already very strong swim and my improving bike ride.

One day... that’s what grips you about triathlon.

The podium – that was a nice ego stroke. The fact my folks were visiting and there to see it made it especially nice. But I’d take knocking off another couple of minutes over another podium any day. Position in the field is about everybody else, time is about yourself. And, at the end of the day, whether a field is 100 people strong in a local race or 3,000 strong in a big Ironman, there’s only one person out there whose race you can get even close to controlling.

It's all getting a little racey...

Chuffin' Nora. You wait for a race for two months then a whole cheaply-printed, bound-to-fall-apart goodie bag full of them comes along at once. No matter. Unlike Mel Gibson, Republicans and you're average Daily Mail reader, I'm a fan of all races; a chock-a-block schedule positively bursting at the seams with competition and dripping in race juice can only be a good thing.

Especially as I've not raced since the Creek Striders Half at the beginning of December. On one hand, I'm interested to see if January's BIG mileage month will reflect on speed and fitness. At the same time, I feel like all those base kilometres are probably in need of some higher intensity efforts on top of them, and where better to push hard than in a race?

So, what's on the schedule? Why, thank you for asking, allow me to explain:

First up is the Skins Al Mamzar triathlon on 3 Feb. This is an event I wouldn't usually do because it's been of a questionable quality in the past, but I haven't raced an Olympic distance tri for a year and just fancy it. Previously, as I said, the organisational element wasn't A1 but there was another race in this series a couple of months ago and everyone who raced reported that it had improved considerably. The only problem being swim times that suggested a swim course that was at least 3-400m short. I reckon I could look at a body of water and guess a 1,500m swim more accurately that that so, in these days of Garmins and Google Earth, this sort of error margin is really pretty unacceptable (listening Ironman UK?). It looks like that hss been sorted for this race but, worst case scenario, it's a good hit-out and my bike and run times will be directly comparable with last year's race.

The good thing about a course that's well short and a bit of a draft-fest? Guaranteed PB! Even if it is one I'll never come close to again.

Anyway, one week later is the Wadi Bih run. This is one of those super-cool little events that a few pissed-up mentalists started a couple of decades ago and has taken off. Like techno and Flight of the Conchords, or Wales.

Basically, teams of five tackle the 72k course that runs through the famous Wadi Bih (a wadi is a dried-up river bed here in Middle Earth). You take it in turns to jump out of your support vehicle and take your leg of the relay – some sections are 5k long, others are 2k straight uphill. It's basically all good fun and, although there are a few teams who take it seriously and try to win, they are - and I'm going to be very careful not to generalise here - usually a bunch of charmless knobs. It's one of the few events I've not raced here so I was happy as a tornado in a trailer park to be asked to form part of one of Nike's media teams. I'm sure there'll be more about this event in future blogs.

So, we jump to 17 March and the RAK Half Marathon. Not much to report about this quite yet but I'll be looking to break 1:30 for the first time there. The last race of February will be the Aerofit Sprint Tri – one of our regular series of sprint triathlons. Again, it'll be interesting to see if all this hard training is turning my muscles into hardcore turbo triathlon speed machines or just squelchy pain sponges. One good thing about having a regular series, like the Aerofit, is that I know exactly how I do there – what position I'll finish and who'll overtake me where. It's a little depressing when I write it out like that, but that helps me to gauge if/where improvements have been made relative to other racers.

Finally, it's the first of my three big races for the year ahead – Abu Dhabi International Triathlon. Last year's race was top-notch, even if it was hotter and windier than storm season in Hell (Hell as in that place really far down South – where the boy Satan lives – not the towns in Michigan, Norway, The Cayman Islands, tho they could be quite hot and windy too for all I know. Actually, I'm pretty sure the one in Norway won't be that hot.).

Again, this is very much a race against myself. I'm doing what ADIT calls the 'short' race: 1,500m swim (an actual 1,500m too!), a whopping 100km bike and a 10km run. Last year's race was the first time (or maybe second?) I'd ever ridden 100km, I got hydration and nutrition all wrong and the conditions multiplied that. So, unsurprisingly, I bonked big time on the run. I'd like to put that right this year and knock a whopping big chunk of time off too – that'd show me that I'm on course for IM Austria (check out the fancy new website for that event, by the way!).

And there you have it... I'll leave it at that for now as my intention is to post far more often now. I'll try to get something up here to irritate/educate/frustrate every couple of days at least, so I don't want to shoot my load straight off the bat, to awkwardly mix some rather odd analogies.

Take care kids, and happy racing, training or whatever it is you do to avoid having to watch X Factor with t'other half.