I guess it's natural that as my training progresses, my body continues adapting to the training load. That's common sense. But I don't think I'll ever fully mentally understand how I can be sustaining such high volume training – it's flippin' crazy!
 
I've just completed the biggest training week of my life – 32 hours of hard graft. I had planned another training week in Lanzarote and my coach Rick just rolled his eyes at me. When he sent through my programme my instant reaction was "bloody hell, he's trying to kill me". I had an adrenaline rush just looking at it – a mixture of excitement and nervousness at the amount I'd be pushing myself during that week.
 
Double swim days, 2.5 hour brick runs off long bike sessions. Wow. This was going to take some serious mental application to get through – especially as I was doing it all alone! Many people feed off their fellow club peers or training buddies. I had me, myself and I to get through this!
 
This time my stay in Lanzarote was sponsored – I stayed at the absolutely stunning Tiagua 81, one of the properties owned by Lanzarote Retreats. This was luxurious stuff. I am a triathlete known for skipping off abroad for solo training camps but I usually go basic, to save on cost and because I hardly spend any time there anyway. This was like a premier training camp, business class style! I was also reunited with the very swish Cannondale Slice courtesy of Markus Fricke Cycle Hire. This TT bike is immense. There's simply no other way of putting it. End of.
 
Primarily, of course, I was there to train, and train I did. My life for a week consisted of eating, training, eating, training, eating, training, eating and sleeping. A lifestyle I could get used to all too easily. For some reason it always rains on my first day arriving in Lanzarote then the weather proceeds to improve over the course of my stay – always the same pattern. But we all know the wind is the most ferocious element to tackle on the island, although one day I was starved of a refreshingly cool wind on a long run through the desert, and got quite sunburned, resulting in an exceedingly attractive showcase of red and white patterned skin.
 
I feel like a broken record when I say this, but this time last year I could never even begin to imagine that I would ever complete 32 hours of training in a week. I was doing roughly around 12 hours a week this time last year and I felt like that was pretty full-on at the time! Obviously there's the accurate adage 'quality not quantity' but to be fair, when you're training for diazepamonlinerx.com long distance stuff, endurance training is where it's at.
 
It felt amazing to train on consecutive days without suffering. Strangely, and unexpectedly, I felt recovered before every session. I think I owe this to my fitnaturally nutrition plans, replenishing myself with milk and nuts and all natural good stuff, Cherry Active, which is literally a miracle muscle elixir, and the fact that I was asleep by 9.30pm and lavishing in a resplendent 9 hours sleep every night!
 
I was also lucky enough to hang out at Sands Beach Active, who were interested in interviewing me while I was making the most of the open air pool. There are few better experiences in the world than a swim set under the sun! Apart from maybe my dodgy swimsuit tan lines now adorning my back… I was also priveleged to meet the wonderful Iron couple, Stephen and Bella Bayliss, who reside at Sands Beach.
 
Carrying on with this pseudo-fame trend we also carried out a bit of filming at Lanzarote Retreats! I played an extremely strenuous part, as Mark Fountain, owner of Fountain Fotos, filmed me chilling on a sunbed. It was part of a video promoting Lanzarote Retreats, a base from which to enjoy the island from any angle. I also rocked up with a mountain bike. I can categorically say I did not ride it though – this could have ended in likely disaster!

On the whole I just feel pleasantly surprised that I can sustain that volume of training. It felt amazing, and it is, at the risk of sounding extremely cheesy, absolutely incredible to feel the fittest I've ever felt in my life. (I didn't say fastest, by the way, that needs a *bit* of work!) Rick, in his usual deadpan way, (and accompanied by a shrug when I told him), wasn't surprised at all. I know endurance is my strong point (it's definitely not speed) but having a week where all you need to think about is the next training session and how you are going to address the calorie deficit was the refreshing break I needed.
 
A lot has been going on in my life recently and Lanzarote is my perfect little escape. I am becoming quite attached to the island, building a network of friends and contacts out there, and I'm so grateful that I have the opportunity to do this. So thank you to everyone who made it possible.

DISCLAIMER: Since coming back from Lanzarote I have had a cold and four days off training so THAT'S what 32 hours of training does to you…
 
 

Robert Twells March 25, 2014

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It would be fair to say I haven't written a race report for quite some time. This is largely due to the fact that I haven't raced for quite some time. It's all that 'off-season' slacking off. If only.

So I signed up for a half marathon a while ago; just a local race. There was that 'it's a local race and therefore I simply have to do it' obligation going on. I announced it to my coach Rick a week before in an 'oh yeah by the way, forgot to tell you' manner, which he was not impressed by one slightest bit.

I got a bit of a lecture on how structured his training programmes are, and how this can't just be dropped in without it compromising the programme and the purpose of the programme. Oops. Then after some deliberation a few days later it was all fine. We were good to go.

I know it's going to sound a bit insincere when I say I hadn't done any training for this. But really, I hadn't. Okay I can swim, bike and run, but I hadn't done any run specific training targeted at completing a half marathon in a good time. For instance, no long runs (over an hour), and absolutely no speed work. Oh and no taper (coach's punishment for my lack of thorough planning/communication fail). This was going to be flukey, to say the least.

So after a busy week consisting of a few days in London, 6 hours on my feet at the triathlon show, probably far too much wine and defiitely not the best training week of my life, I turned up on half marathon day actually feeling nervous.

Thing is, because I have a few sponsors now, there is an unspoken expectaton for me to perform really well. This time last year I could turn up at a 'race' (I never actually raced! God no!), be completely anonymous and just run the thing comfortably, get my medal and go home slightly smugger than your average sofa-dweller. 

But people expect me to be good. Which I'm actually not. So anyway, I felt pretty nervous, knowing I'd have to work supremely hard to get a rather average time. This course is also notoriously hilly, which really didn't help my borderline desperate situation. I was hoping I might be struck down with last minute man flu but even with a bank of potential excuses lined up in my head, there was no way out.

I started off running around 7 minute miles which I knew wasn't sustainable but I also knew I had to push my hardest. This race meant nothing to me; it wasn't even a C race; probably a Z race if it existed! Part of me knew I had nothing to prove but at the same time I felt I had to work hard so at least I wasn't at the total back of the field…

At 5 miles I was on a 5 mile PB, but that may not count given that my PB was from about 3 years ago and I think may be the only 5 mile race I have ever taken part in. At half way I knew I was slipping a bit. The hills were hurting. My lungs felt like they were punctured, and in general, my legs felt like they'd been sledge-hammered. So feeling good. Yeah, the power of disillusionment. 

I kept thinking about the mile long downhill finish, convinced I'd make up time lost on the up hill sections. A few gels down and I was working extremely hard to maintain my pace at around 4:30 min/km (I know, hardly a nuclear-fuelled missile over here.) The downhill bit finally arrived and I just tanked it, literally. A mildly amusing moment when I overtook an unruly-haired guy who proceeded to scream with a contorted grimace on his face every time someone overtook him. Silent head chuckle. 

This stretch seemed unreasonably long considering it was downhill, but my now 6:30 minute miles (not sure why I'm switching between km and miles, just go with it) were hurting so much it felt like time had stood still. Until I rounded the corner and attempted a sprint finish, peaking too early and slowing down before the line in a massively anti-climactic non-victorious sprint fail.

So after choking back oxygen into my lungs and spluttering in a rather ungainly fashion, I made it in 1:43. Still pretty average to be honest, and after all that effort as well! It was, however, a PB for me by 3-4 minutes, and that was a pancake flat half marathon course a year ago (probably the last time I 'raced' a half). There was a silver lining in there somewhere, I convinced myself.

I was 43rd woman out of 340 and 19th in my category. Definitely not topping the leaderboard anytime soon! But all in all not a bad day's training. That's the way to view it. And as my coach pointed out, he deliberately didn't put in a taper so maybe a few minutes to shave somewhere along the line. In the meantime, keep grinding. It hurts for a reason. 

Robert Twells March 4, 2014

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