W2K

Another Solo Riding, squeezing it in while being chaffeur for Tom and his brother on a couple of MTB trips.

I do the upper section of the W2K, Chinamans trail to Kawakawa Bay, over the hill to Kinloch and then around the headland trail before dropping in to Whakaipo Bay.

The ride has some pretty views over the lake, some stunning rocky outcrops and quiet bays.  But, I'm in a bit of a rush to get back to the family, so as per usual, a quick look and I'm back on my bike.  It's two way, walkers and bikers, so there's not much potential for hands-of-the-brakes "whoop" moments.  Add in a whole lot of switchback corners and a healthy sprinkling of some gluey mud, and this has become more of a training ride than a days mountain biking.

Great to have done it, would be a lovely ride with a group of friends and some gourmet food!

The map timings were very generous, even with the glue slowing me down, I rode in 3.5 hours what they reckoned would be about 6 hours.  But I suppose as a social ride with beautiful picnic spots......?

Motu Part 2

To disturb the family as little as possible, I decided to ride directly from Opotiki, rather than have Tom drop me off some distance up the Motu Road.  Also, maybe, the idea of riding as much of the loop as possible did appeal.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.......

The dunes trail is very pretty, a nice warm up of rolling hills.  If only I didn't have to stop all the time to get my bike through those motor-bike stoppers!   This section takes about 45m minutes, with the obligatory 'remove a clothing layer as you warm up' stop.  I head into the Motu Road keen for adventure.  Up, and up, and up.  It's a wide gravel road, so no great technical demand, but a 6km long hill does get a bit tiring.  Especially when it's followed by another one!  The gradient is no great issue, it's just a consistent slog.

The bush is beautiful, and as I ride further, it feels more and more remote.  I see only a couple of cars, including one close call with a hunters' ute, which I could hear was coming too fast so I bailed into a ditch.  It's a logging road, and there are big signs which say "Ensure you are able to stop in half your sight distance".  At this stage, I could close my eyes and still stop in half my sight distance.  Grind, grind, grind up the hill.

I have a snack at the top of Meremere hill, where a lady stops to check I'm ok on my own.  "Just hungry" I say through a  mouthfull, then feel a little silly.  It's not quite the tough chick image I like to portray is it?  Next time I'll say "Just doing hill repeats."

Apologies for the poor phto quality, I didn't want to take my good phone out in the rain!

At 48km, 3 hours 40, I hit the Pakihi Track.  My work is done, now I just need to fly down this hill.  Yeah Right!  I'm a bit nervous about downhilling on my own, the Pakihi track details are quite clear "Narrow track with drop offs, not to be ridden at high speed".  How is it supposed to be any fun at all?  Fortunately I meet a couple of riders at the top, and I know they'll be following me down and can pick up the pieces.  If they even see the skid marks where I've gone off a precipice.

I actually find the Pakihi a bit hard going after four hours of grind.  Most of it is the sort of rocky surface that makes me dream of the carbon-fibre dual suspension bike which I just can't afford.  Still, I have some fun, how can you not on a 20km downhill.  Except actually, I find that only 10km of that is really downhill, the rest is such a minute gradient as to be negligible.  I actually had to pedal, and I really wasn't banking on that.  Then, because of the big storm which had just passed, as I rode along the river there were many rocky slips, making me stop and drag my bike over them.  Just the sort of rhythm-killer you need after over four hours of solid riding.

Makeshift bridge over a slip

It's very pretty though, lovely bush, winding along a river.  And winding along a river, and winding along a river.  Do you get the impression I was over it?  It gets worse, then I got to the road.  And wound along the road, along the road, along the road for 9km.  Having to do hard yards at the end of an epic journey is just defeating really.

Fortunately, I've organised for Tom to meet me at the end of the road, to save the the tarseal k's into town.  I have 15 minutes of absolute panic when I realise I've forgotten my map of the meeting place, and he's not where I think he should be.  The thought of riding all the way to Opotiki is awful, and knowing that Tom will be sitting somewhere in the hills, with no cell phone reception, worrying about me...........  I know I'm going to be in BIG trouble.

I head back down the road, aiming for town, and nearly cry when I see our car, right where it should be except he took a detour before parking.  

79km, 6:10.  Maybe just about 20km past my fitness and enjoyment levels.  

It's testimony to the remote location of this ride, the first time ever I have lost Garmin satelite reception, and I have no elevation graph for the ride.  That's a bit gutting considering the amount of climbing I did, so I've tracked it down elsewhere!  Please note, I did the Motu Road in reverse to that shown, starting at Jackson road and climbing UP to the Pakihi track.  Credit where it's due!

Riding Solo........ Motu part 1

The Motu has some legendary status in my eyes.  When a very strong cyclist trains hard but is twice unfortunate in 'The Motu', you know it's not a walk in the park.  I've been keen for ages to try out part of the track, but it's never quite worked out.

Easter weekend, and it didn't quite work out again.  Manu and I had been talking and gradually pinpointing a vague idea into a plan, we set a date and time but were still co-ordinating which parts of the Motu we would do.  Then she got sick and we had to call it all off.  Elusive, the Motu is.

Still, it was a long weekend and the weather cleared a bit, so Tom and I took the girls down to Opotiki anyway for some horse-riding, walking and mountain biking.  And seeing as I had my bike..........  I headed out on my own.

I'm getting a bit used to riding on my own.  Life is busy, friends are busy, and co-ordinating matching times can be damn near impossible.  Going solo has some advantages.  You only have to stop for half as many toilet breaks, snacks, gear malfunctions and costume changes.  This means you can knock off the k's considerably more quickly than when in a group, where everyone warms up at a different rate and sheds a clothing layer five minutes after the last person!  On your own, you can leave when you're ready, when it suits your family.  Also, going more quickly means less time away from the family, so less guilt!  On my own, tough chick status increases, I have to look after myself, navigate, and make the decisions.  This gives a greater sense of braving the elements, girl vs wild.  I'm also more observant of my surroundings, and can move on or stop to admire something as it suits me.

The flip side is, it's a bit lonely.  There's no one to point out something cool to, to name a bird call, or tell an entertaining story.  The uphills feel a little longer, even though they're probably shorter alone. 
 Trouble shared is trouble halved, and I like to share just how much my legs hurt on a big climb.

There is no one to take a photo of, or to take a photo of me, so my photos are normally of my bike......

 The downhills have a sinister edge to them, knowing that if I come off, there is no one to help.  Nerves are not good for riding, and this can make it even more risky, as it takes me a while to warm into it.  Luckily, I find a good downhill hard to resist, and I normally get over this!  It also means I have to carry a set of survival gear, as if I have a problem, it'll be many hours before I'm overdue and Search and Rescue get called in.  Tom and I have meeting points, plans, back up plans, and back up backup plans. 

It's better to ride with someone.  But riding solo is better than not riding at all.

Xterra Triathlon, Blue Lake, Rotorua

 

That's me there, 7th out of 12.  Do you hear the pride in my voice?  Did I say, this is not a kiwisport event that give-it-a-go types turn up to do?  Do you know, I had so much fun today??

Once race day nerves are done and dusted, it's game face on, and setting up transition, squeezing into a wetsuit and trying to pre-navigate my way through a rabbit warren on transition entries and exits, takes my mind off the pain ahead.

The swim........ well, we all knew it wasn't going to be my strength didn't we?  I managed to get through it without exhausting myself or being drowned by the rabid pack of triathletes vying for honours, that's a success in itself.  I did have some scary time after rounding the far buoy and not being able to SEE the next white buoy as the sun was directly in my eyes.  REgardless, I think I took a fairly straight line!

Into transition and I see Hamish, who I teach with, very carefully tying his shoes.  He had a great swim time, but is so gentlemanly he hung around in transition for four whole minutes to check I hadn't drowned.  (He's a primary school teacher, I can only presume it doesn't take him four minutes to tie his own shoes......)  My own transition is a flawless model of a pro-triathlete.  Wetsuit off, cap and goggles flung on the ground to interfere with other competitor's transition areas.  MTB shoes on.  Helmet on.  Unrack bike.  Jump on bike.  Sh** - I'm not allowed on my bike until I get past the mount line.  Jump off bike.  Run 3 steps and realise I don't have my hydra pack.  Drop bike in middle of Transition, run back for my bag.  Run back to bike.   Jump on bike.  Sh** - I'm not allowed on my bike until I'm past the mount line!  Back off my bike.  You get the picture.  Slick. 

I cycle up the killer road climb and my head is pounding.  What is it about swimming that leaves me feeling like my forehead is going to explode?  I'm not sure if it's stress-related, or caused by over exertion, but I feel like shit, excuse the language.   However, I push it up the hill, knowing that I need to pass as many people as possible before we hit the single track climbs which will bottleneck.

I have a ripper up Frontal Lobotomy, feeling pleased that I've being doing Summerhill racing all summer.  I can ride all the pinch climbs in slippery conditions, passing lots of other riders who can't make it up.  I head into Billy T with my headache fading, ready for the fun to begin.  Billy T is a grade 4 downhill trail, with some technical, rooty sections with drop offs that can be tricky, especially after some rain.  After a bad ride last year when newly broken fingers, it's not been my favourite trail, but I've ridden it quite a bit in preparation for this race, and I'm feeling good.  The plan is to take it fairly easy, make it through and then gun it for the next downhill which is much easier.

I can't help but smile thinking about it. I nailed it.  Rode nice lines, swooped the drop offs, dealt with the slippery corners.  Passed a number of people who were not having such a fun time, including two ladies who held up four other riders without giving way, until one of them fell off right in front of us all.  I come through the last tricky bit, beaming, then wince as I hear a yell and the sounds of crashing bikes behind me.  Not everyone has been so fortunate. 

 The rest of the ride is blissful.  I get in a bunch heading up Hill Road and exchange some banter with a DH rider who is passing me on all the downhills but I catch back up on the climbs.  This keeps me entertained for a while, and I'm rapt to come out at the bottom of Split Enz and see him only a minute or so ahead, so I'm not even losing much time on the downhill sections.  Ride time of 1:51:27, 6th out of 12 in my category.

As I head out on the two lap run course, my legs feel ok, not the usual jelly transition.  It may have just been the excitement of being cheered out on to the course.  It's a beautiful run, on a trail interesting enough to take your mind of tired legs..... but a little defeating to be passed by a number of runners.  It's hard to tell who is on their second lap already, and just in another league to me, and who is starting their first lap and I'm losing places to.  I settle for just being disappointed every time I'm passed, but my legs just don't go any faster.

I slow down as I pass Hamish towards the end of the second lap, to give some encouragement.  A lady around my age starts to pass us, and knowing that's a potential placing, I take back off to stay in front of her.  She ruined the last couple of k's, right behind me, as I ran around each curve of Blue Lake hoping to see the sandy finish stretch.  She pushed me all the way to the finish line, only a few seconds behind me.  Run time of 1:08:06, which is not a bad 11km time for me after a morning's work!  7th out of the runners in my division - which is also not bad for someone who is not a runner!

All in all, I'm fairly rapt.  And I had so much fun, I didn't even get to that point where you go "Why am I doing this, I hurt so much, I hate it, I'm never doing this again".  Tom says maybe I didn't push hard enough.  Maybe.  I definitely didn't swim enough!  This race is a winner for next year's schedule, with a little more swim training, and a little more speedwork in the runs.  The MTB is just for the pure joy of it! 

Can I do it? Yes I can.

Tomorrow I'm heading off to Rotorua for the Xterra Off Road Triathlon.  This has really been a secondary event to Rotorua Marathon, and I've been having a vague panic as reality sets in.  Rotorua Marathon is a MARATHON.  42 kilometres.  And, as I often say, I'm not a runner.  Xterra Triathlon, I realised too late, is not a kiwisport event.  There are no prizes for participation.  The bike leg is a Grade 3-4 technical MTB, which straight away eliminates many ladies who may be keen to give it a go.  After a full ride of the bike leg a few weeks ago, I looked up previous results to see how I may compare to past entrants. I would be LAST in my age group for the bike.  And it's my strongest discipline.

So, today, the nerves are in my tummy.  As much as I'm keen to get out and give it a go, I don't want to be completely out of my league.  And I've just spent the evening packing, and the state of my gear is borderline embarrassing, and presents some practical issues.  My MTB shoes have cracked straps and are impossible to put on quickly.  My wetsuit is so ripped through the armpits I look like I've had a run in with a werewolf.  My helmet pads are so worn thin, they hang from within like little octopus tentacles, and I get a velcro mark on my forehead where one is missing.  I ripped my last swim cap this week.  I don't own bungee laces.  My bike shorts either slip down and expose my builder's crack, or are so worn you can see my builder's crack through them.  And I'm going to be lining up next to international athletes?  I'm nervous AND grouchy.


A need for reassurance has sent me to my Garmin training records.  A bit of nifty calculation and here it goes:

So far in 2014, three and a half months........

I have ridden 427 km

and run 347 km.

Tomorrow I only have to ride 26 and run 11.  No worries.

(PS don't mention the swim, or you'll send me into a spiral of despair again.)