Cowman - The Day of Reckoning

The day itself. Mr & Mrs D, having returned from the Ladies’ Wimbledon final late on Saturday night, were up at 5.30am to give us all a lift down to Emberton Park. It was grey but no rain for now and we were super lucky in that the rain held off for most of the day – a bit of drizzle in the swim and a few spots on the bike but the run was surprisingly hot. 

The swim started at 7am, with an obligatory photo call just before we entered the water - we are all looking surprisingly happy all things considering! There were circa 300 other competitors and boy did it feel like it on the bank. We all headed to the front for a warm up so that we were well out of the crowds.

As the gun went it was mayhem and I soon realised I should have been a little less bullish as men swam over the top of me (ah, "equality in sport" I thought at the time!) and I started inhaling large quantities of water. And so to breaststroke which my father caught with an opportune photo (I’m in the pink / white hat):

JK and Emily were out in front with Mark holding his own and fending off his fellow swimmers. Pugh was plugging away somewhere in the middle. Both Durden siblings were going rapidly backwards in the field. By this point I had headed for the bank where I found myself swimming through all sorts of pond life and thick weeds making any stroke, even doggy paddle, difficult. Not such a great plan. ‘Man up’ I told myself and stuck my head down and started moving back through the field. 39 minutes later and I was done – 2 minutes slower than last year! Huge frustration as my swimming was considerably stronger after lessons and more hours in the water. I had forgotten the pure pandemonium of a mass open water start. Cowman 2012 was a good re-baptism of fire for the year of the ironman.

On to the cycle. I was delighted to get out of the water in front of Durden Junior who was still flailing around getting out as I arrived by my bike in transition. Pugh was already there and trying his very best to get out of his wetsuit. As I ripped mine off, jumped into my clip-ins and stuck my cycle helmet on I felt sorry for the least experienced member of TGS and helped him out of the predicament he’d gotten into with his T-shirt. He broke all sorts of records for that transition including longest removal of wetsuit / search for his socks / putting T-shirt on. As I sprinted out of transition there were whoops and cheers from the TGS fans and supporters who’d turned out to watch – Dad even managed to get a photo. As you can see, I'm pretty relieved I didn't drown in the swim. 

The cycle was the cycle really. 2 long loops and one shorter one. No huge crashes or deaths (dogs that is) this year. Lots of guys on tri-bikes overtaking me including Durden Junior who got me in the first couple of km’s. Em and Pughy had a minor mishap with the course so did one long, one short, and then a further long loop last – luckily the marshalls soon noticed they shouldn’t have been where they were and sent them on their merry way. At the start of my second loop I got to overtake Em on the bike, keen to put as much distance between us as I could before the run which I knew she was strong on.

 

Above: (L) Williams asking our supporters how far ahead WJD was. (R) Em shortly before she was overtaken by me on the bike. 

Into transition for the second time that day, traipsing through plenty of mud by now I found my kit and got into my running gear as best I could. It felt slow as I had time to think ‘Hannah, you’re faffing’ and it was 2.30 mins to Em’s 1.30 – a key factor in what was about to happen on the run. Luckily Cowman HQ had changed the run course to take out the cross-country/second swim element to create an out and back course up the side of the main road on the footpath. This was actually very entertaining especially with everyone in their navy and pink TGS kit which was easy to spot. High fives and plenty of support for our teammates ensued but as I turned at the top of my first (of 3) loops I soon saw Em in hot pursuit. She was a couple of minutes behind at that stage and, I won’t lie, I had no intention of letting her catch me, but she was worryingly close. 

Unfortunately in an attempt to hold Em off by running a punchy 2^nd lap I totally cooked myself and dragging myself up the long hill out on the final loop I was hardly getting my feet off the ground. As we entered the last mile she came steaming past and whilst I did my best to keep up I had nothing left in my legs – all her run-training had paid off and my lack of run training showed. I finished just over 30 seconds behind her by the finish. At the end of the day this internal ‘race’ did me the biggest favour as I ran the slightly shortened (12.7 miles we think?) run course in 1hr 44, so well in line with my PB in the half-marathon distance. Thank you Em.

Above: gritting their teeth to the finish: Pugh, Em & Mark

At the finish the boys had been done and dusted for a while. Roly in his role as ‘social’ member of TGS had gone and beaten the lot of us although JK and WJD were considerably closer than they had been last year. We will put his performance down to completing the Haute Route in April - good altitude training [see his blog here: http://rolyrouleletour.blogspot.co.uk/] Analysis of the times and performances to follow. The only real casualty was Pughy. I’d noticed he didn’t exactly look like he was enjoying himself on the out and back section of the run but when he finished the blood stains on his trainers were evidence that he had suffered from some pretty severe blisters during the run – one very good reason to use talcum powder in your socks and shoes coming off the swim / bike to soak up any excess water. Not helped by a very damp transition area. Good effort to keep going I say. 

All in all a successful day out with TGS members taking anywhere between 20 and 46 minutes off their Cowman times from the year before and with a headwind that we reckoned added between 5 and 10 minutes to the bike times.

 

Em on the home straigh - literally flying!

Dejected... but relieved to be finishing!

More mud...

The transport convoy.

Cowman - The Preview

It was back to ‘Casa “House of Pain” Durden’ for a weekend in north Bucks and The British Middle Distance Championships. Lets not beat around the bush here: anyone can enter, but it sounds quite hardcore so we’ll call it what it is.

Saturday involved the almighty task of getting everyone and their kit out of London, down the M1 and into their digs in Astwood. A simple feat with some driving up in the tin can on wheels that is Roly’s vehicle with Jonny bringing the majority of kit and bikes up in the hired transit van. I say the majority because, as he walked through the door in Astwood around midday after circa 2 hours driving, it dawned on him that he’d managed to leave one rucksack back at his flat in Clapham. Said rucksack contained a wetsuit, tri-suit, goggles, hat and cycling shoes. So all the important bits of kit then. To his dismay he pretty much walked straight back out the door, drove to Bedford and got on a train back to London where, luckily for him, his flatmate met him at St Pancras with the bag.

To keep us occupied we went for a short spin to check the bikes were working and to test out the new TGS kit. A photo shoot soon ensued to everyone's frustration:

Team Gun Show. Trying to get the Guns to Show:

Shouting at me to get out of the way!

On the tri bike - shame the wheels don't match. First puncture followed shortly after...

JK on the Eddie Merckx

A warm up hill from Newton Blossomville looking over the Great Ouse valley.

Aside from this small distraction, everyone was in fine form and feeling relatively calm about the task ahead. Some early signs of nerves, evidenced by a lack of banter, were noted in our young friend Mr Pugh who hadn’t at this stage ever completed a triathlon. More on him later. Our main concern was the weather. Off the back of the wettest May and June since records began it looked as though the off-road run might become a second leg of the swim. Clearly there was concern at Cowman HQ and when we arrived to rack-up on the Saturday it was evident that the transition area was also going to be a little damp given that most of it was under about 6 inches of water.

Mud, glorious mud!

More mud! Roly & Em

For the diligent triathletes

In terms of preparations, WJD, by this point, had already had his 3^rd puncture of the day and decided to opt for the ‘throw money at the problem’ solution by buying both a new tyre and inner tube. Luckily he received some assistance from a furry friend getting it fixed:



I had been struggling in previous weeks with my new goggles (the large Aquasphere ‘mask’ type) letting in water so decided, against all the best advice, to purchase a new pair that afternoon in preparation for the swim at 7am the next morning. I wholly ignored the ‘don’t try out new kit on the day of competition’ advice that you read all the time in triathlon mags. When your old kit’s been failing I figured things couldn’t get much worse. As it turns out the smaller goggle-like Aquasphere’s that I purchased were the mutt’s nuts. Phew. What no one realised at this point was that sabotage (or so it is claimed) had taken place with someone un-doing JK’s rear wheel. JK hasn’t yet admitted to the fact he simply hadn’t done it up the last time he cleaned his bike.

The competition was clearly hotting up. 

Dolomites - The Post Mortem

Overall verdict on the 5 day trip (in comparison to the Alps which, as a group, we've been to quite a bit) is that the Dolomites provided shorter, sweeter and more frequent climbs, as punishing in parts, but with an absolutely stunning back drop. The geography of the mountains out there made for breathtaking scenery.

There are a couple of items to deal with as a follow-on from the final Dolomites report. Namely:

Postscript to events on Day 4:

Further to events in the long-drop half way up the Col du Telegraphe in May 2011,to which only Mark was witness, Mr Flynn once again excelled himself on the final climb in the Dolomites. Having tried to relieve himself of some excess air whilst climbing the Falzarego he managed to 'nip one to the wicket keeper' in quite spectacular fashion. Certainly the big red monster wasn't designed for this sort of incident and the true extent of the problem was worsened by a white saddle on the new BMC bike that quickly changed colour. It was at this point that Doug decided not to join us for a beer afterwards despite Flynn's desperate attempts to remove the evidence from his saddle with the contents of his water bottle. 

Awards:

Biggest Bonk: Beard

All the gear and plenty of idea: Pat Hoy

Maratona Route Completion: Hoy and Kirwan

Late Arrival: Flynn

Worst Attire: Pugh

Best Crash: Pugh for getting such extensive air as he flew over the handlebars. Beard and WJD share second place and plenty of road rash scars to show for it

Ladies' Plate: HCD [Jen, you were sorely missed] with Beard coming a close second

Logistics Legend: Mark (even if no one was listening to a word you said)

Moaning Myrtle: Beard (NB Gibson was not even a nominee for this category)

Compilation of best quotes from the trip:

"Mr Flynn? No bag!"

“Which one of those guys do you reckon is the Italian Durden?”

“Flynn has cracked and sh&t himself.  His saddle is now brown”

"Not again?!"



Next year:

Mallorca (where Mr Wiggins practices his trade). If you want to join this madness next year then please send applications FAO The Secretary, TGS, 4c Aristotle Road, London. Places are limited.

Dolomites - Part III

The final big day and it was due to be an epic one at that. Williams had done his best to scare everyone to death the night before telling us how brutal the planned Maratona route would be. By the time everyone was eating breakfast it was clear that only a few of us were really keen for the Passo Giau followed by the Sellaronda loop from the day before.

We had early breakfast and the outriders (slowest of the group, including me) aimed to leave at 8am. I'd been struggling the day before with my chain jumping and, despite some tweaking the night before, had not managed to resolve the problem. We set off towards Corvara and up the Compolongo for the first time that day. The chain jumping was incessant. Every third pedal turn. By the time I got to Corvara I was not only swearing a lot but had made the decision that I needed to find a bike mechanic before getting so far into the ride that mechanical failure would require assistance from an Italian taxi driver. 5km's in after Beard told me he couldn't sort the problem (disappointing) I turned around, heading back for Alta Badia. Everyone had gone past me now, even those that had started later and my chances of completing a ride that day, let alone the Maratona route, were looking bleak.

Cyling back into town and it dawned on me that it was a Sunday. Everywhere was closed, including the bike shop. The original plan was to just hire a bike for the day. Not an option. Back to the hotel and, slightly teary, they called round all the local mechanics they knew. Everyone was either in bed or had gone to church. In the end the chef, who had already shown some interest in our bikes, had a look at it and, with the help of his Dad, set about replacing the link in my (brand new) chain that had ceased up. Legend. I didn't care that my food that evening might taste a bit oily as a result.

Soon I was back on the road, heading towards Corvara again. Second realisation of the morning was that, whilst I had an idea where I was going, I didn't know the exact route. Up the Compolongo by 10.30am and the bike was purring. Unfortunately I was too far behind the rest of them to even consider the Maratona route so I headed for the Giau. Unfortunately I hadn't fully twigged that we had planned a relatively flat route to the bottom of this climb and, instead, opted to climb the Falzarego not realising that this should have come after the Giau....

Not to worry of course. It was a beautiful cycle and the climb wasn't too bad - a gentle 6-7% gradient most of the way. It also meant I'd put an extra climb in for the day which was good for the training.

I followed a couple of other lone cyclists up the final throws of the climb as it became quite Mallorcan-esque (Wiggo eat your heart out).

Little did I know that the boys had pretty much reached the top of the Giau by this point and, having descended from the top of Falzarego following signs for the Giau I realised the error of my ways as I took a right turn, heading south, signposted 'Passo Giau'. I should not have been approaching it from this direction.

Team Blue with Doug at the top of the Giau. L-R Will, Pughy, Gibson, Beard (looking mildly happier having actually got out of bed today), Pat and Doug. I met Pat and Jonny as I was coming out of the bushes having relieved myself at the bottom of the Giau. Pat kindly got his map out and showed me the error of my ways. 'Oh well' I said, I was still going to get up the Giau one way or the other and there's something quite satisfying about going back down the same side you've just made the effort to come up.

Looking back down the valley in the direction that I am coming from. I was grappling with some 15% sections whilst this photo was being taken of the boys sunbathing in the lunchtime heat. L-R Doug, Pat, Will, Pugh, Gibson, Beard, Jonny.



My view from the road as I'm ascending up the Passo Giau. Stunning.

Pughy trying to get rid of his tan lines and attracting some male admirers while he's at it. Note his promotion to the Liquigas team who were training on the same climbs as us the day before - it was quite staggering how fast their team car was having to go to keep up with their riders on the descents.

Will and Pughy on the fateful decent from the Passo Giau. All confidence and bravado about 3 minutes before I followed in their tyre marks and found Pughy in a heap on the side of the road with some very bent handlebars. Thankfully there was some verge at the point he went off the road. Any other corner and there could have been a nasty drop on the other side of the barrier.

Only a couple of minutes later and who should we find licking his wounds but Will. Having just overtaken a couple of Italian motorcyclists (which perhaps gives an indication of the speed he was travelling at) he had the embarassment of skidding off his bike on the next hairpin right in front of them. Luckily they managed to avoid running him over and the injuries were only superficial 'road burn'. His new cycling shorts were looking a bit worse for wear and there were some loud whimpers when he got in the shower that evening.

The final pass of the day, Passo Valparola. This was our 'warm up' on the first day from the other side, so it was good to come over it from the Falzarego side this time. It was a final bleak push up from the Falzarego with our German friend who was sporting both an old skool bike and incredible blond mullet. It was at this point that I was secretly glad of my mechanical failure earlier that morning as the prospect of another loop of the Sellaronda wasn't pretty.

In his full Team Gun Show regalia, WJD is seen here watering the verge.

Pughy going a little slower on his descent from the Valparola

In close pursuit with the mountains surrounding Alta Badia in the background.

War wounds being admired back at base camp.

The whole team enjoying a beer on the penultimate day with JK and Pat having completed the full Maratona route in a little over 10 hours. Good effort gentlemen. L-R Jonny, Mark, Flynn, Gibson, Me, Will, Beard, Pughy, Pat.

Punishment beyond that experienced in the mountain. The look of enjoyment on Mark's face is similar.

Tweedledum and Tweedledee a couple of beverages down. Off to lick their wounds.





And onto the final day of R&R. Temperatures were now up to 32C so we enjoyed the sun and went for a walk up what looked like a red run, finding this beautiful chapel in someone's back garden on the way. WJD admitted that walking up mountains was almost as challenging as cycling up them. He managed about an hour and was not carrying a tent. Not built for hiking then.

A rather more relaxing bus journey back to Verona airport and, whilst Gibson bought his ticket for the June (rather than July) return flight home, we took advantage of the weighing-in facilities. It was a close run contest between Mark and Flynn and I can categorically confirm that we'd been eating too much as few of us had lost any weight!

Dolomites 2012 - The End