Coast to Coast adventure

Now that my legs are on the road to recovery and the pain of 109 miles across Scotland in the driving rain is starting to fade, I’m ready to report on the weekend’s experiences. First and foremost, I’m proud to say that my husband, Brian, won the Challenger event. Everyone in our wee group of friends did really well. I was just pleased to cross the finish line (4.5 hours after Brian) in one piece. And I wasn’t last!

About the Nokia Coast to Coast
This was the inaugural year of the Nokia Coast to Coast, an adventure race from Nairn on the North Sea coast of Scotland to Glencoe in the west. It was set up by Rat Race Events, who run the popular Rat Race series and the Mighty Deerstalker. Having taken part in the Mighty Deerstalker the past two years, I knew we were in for a tough weekend. For most of our group (including Brian) it was our first adventure race, so we chose to enter the Challenger category, which took place over two days, rather than the one-day Racer event.

Day 1
The race started in Nairn at 7am on Saturday. We spent Friday night in a campsite, sleeping a little too soundly on Thermarests in the van (which is more tent-on-wheels than luxury camper) and missing our alarm. That meant I didn’t have time for breakfast - I just can’t run with any food in my stomach. Not a good start to the day.

The rain was already lashing down when we got up, and along with the safety briefing (along the lines of: “there are no closed roads or trails on this race, so watch out for walkers and don’t get run over”), the event started with the announcement: “there’s no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothes!” Hmm, maybe a Helly Hansen and a windproof bike jacket weren’t going to be enough. But by then it was too late to re-think my attire.

The 7 mile trail run wasn’t too muddy, and I actually quite enjoyed it. Taking my time in the first transition, I had my first Gu gel and was just tucking into a giant handful of nuts and raisins when I got snapped by an event photographer. Apparently my face, looking like a hamster who’d just filled up its cheeks, was up on the big screen at the campground later that night. I’m glad I didn’t get the chance to see it.

Next up was a 48 mile road cycle. We weren’t allowed to change bikes over the weekend, so I’d brought my mountain bike in preparation for the next day’s off-road cycle. Some people were using cyclo-cross bikes and others had changed their tyres to semi-slicks, but I just went for it on my trusty Rocky Mountain hard-tail. By 10 miles in all my layers were soaked through and the relentless rain and howling wind had me thinking “did I really actually pay to put myself through this torture?” The last third or so of the cycle was where it got really hilly. By then, I couldn’t feel my fingers or feet, and was finding it difficult to change gears, let alone open an energy bar. So when a tea room came into view, like a mirage, I had to give in and stop for a while to refuel and warm up. Buoyed by the tea and an encouraging chat with the ladies in the shop, I bravely soldiered on. But by the time I reached Fort Augustus, I would have been happy to never see my bike again.

Saturday ended with a short run and a quick splash in Loch Ness in a kayak. Crossing the finish line I was delighted to learn that Brian was comfortably in the lead. Not so pleased when I realised I had no dry clothes except a jacket. I’d left everything in the van in Nairn and our lovely support crew hadn’t yet set off to shuttle the vehicles over to Fort Augustus. I promptly burst into tears and begged Brian to give me his spare trousers and hat, then walked around the campsite looking like sporty Spice until the van arrived.

Later on, showered and refreshed and in warm dry clothes, I was able to satisfy my huge macaroni cheese craving. We all resisted the temptation to have a few celebratory drinks and settled into the campsite for an early night. The only casualty of the day was my ipod, which sadly didn’t survive the rain.

Day 2

Waking up at 6am, I heard the now familiar patter of heavy rain on the van roof. Start time on day 2 was flexible, any time between 7am and 9am, so I held off for a bit and got the chance to enjoy a big bowl of porridge with honey and raisins. There was no requirement to bring a support crew, but two of our group were injured so they agreed to look after us for the weekend; making breakfast, setting up camp and shuttling cars. I couldn’t have been more appreciative. I was the last in our group to set off; the rain was showing no signs of easing, so I just had to wrap up in a borrowed waterproof and go for it.

Day 2 began with a 17 mile off-road cycle – a mixture of canal towpath, wide tracks and muddy trails. I enjoyed this section much more than I expected, and was pleased to be able to overtake some of the people who’d set off earlier than me. But I couldn’t see anyone else in our group for dust (or mud). This was followed by another tortuous 16 miles on the road, where I could at least feel my fingers enough to keep taking half-hourly bites of Pack Tunch bar, protein bar or nuts and raisins, washed down by the Nuun in my hydration pack.

Reaching the transition in Fort William, when the rain was finally beginning to clear, I ditched my muddy shorts and waterproof and set off on the penultimate section, a 14 mile hike. Having studied the course profile in advance and realising that this involved a section of Ben Nevis and part of the West Highland Way, I knew there would be little running involved. I tried to jog when I could, on flat sections and some of the downhill, but my legs were getting more and more tired and most of it was just too slippy. I’d estimated I would take 4 hours, and finished this section in 4 hours 19 minutes. On a dry day, I think it could be done much more quickly. Even stopping in the one village we passed for a water top-up, I still ran out of fluid half way through. And my Garmin had run out of battery on the bike section, so I had no idea what the time was. That meant I had both my Gu gels too early, and was really hungry and thirsty by the end of the hike. The crowd had really spread out and there were points when I couldn’t see anyone in front of or behind me. With no music to keep my brain occupied, I entertained myself by counting the number of people I passed (+1 point) and those who passed me (-1 point). Initially, this really helped to propel me forwards, but by the end I was at minus 11 and was again feeling a little demoralised.

Fortunately there was water at the kayak transition, and from there the end was in sight. The final section was a 1 mile kayak across Loch Leven to Ballachulish. This was probably the hardest part, because my hips seized up so I just had to stretch my legs out and let my arms (and my lovely kayak partner Gavin) do all the work. But 17 minutes later I was crossing the finish line – never so happy to see my husband and a welcoming bowl of soup. Brian had held his lead, and came in first in 9 hours 32 minutes. I came in 185th out of 455 finishers, in 14 hours 10 minutes, which I was really happy with.

Aftermath
Without doubt, this was the hardest event I’ve ever done. It probably wasn’t helped by the fact that I’ve done so little training this year. But all of us really enjoyed the experience, and most of us reckon we’ll be back next year. Perhaps with Brian in the Racer category, covering the whole distance in a day, next time. I just hope that it’s sunny! In the meantime, I’ve got a serious winter training plan to put together.

FOMO

This month, I've been struck by a massive case of FOMO. I'm not usually a fan of acronyms, but that one strikes a chord. I first heard it in the car on the way home from work, listening to the Scott Mills show on Radio One. FOMO, or 'fear of missing out' is that horrible feeling you get when everyone else is doing something and, even if you don't really want to do whatever it is they're doing, you don't want to be the only one who's not doing it.

Earlier this year I tried to get a team together for the Corrieyairack Challenge, no mean feat when you're rubbish at mountain biking and everyone else you know is either (a)brilliant at it or (b)not interested. Then, in a flurry of excitement, a group of friends decided to put in a few teams and I thought I was going to get the chance to give it a go. The 'Corrie' is a 43 mile race done on either mountain bike or as a duathlon. No one wanted to do the duathlon except me, so it was mountain biking all the way.

We went out for a training ride in May and that's where the gap between me and the rest became apparent. It was all off the beaten track and I turned into a gibbering wreck. I came off and landed head-first in a pile of heather, resulting in a heather burned face and a mouthful of the herby stuff. I got so upset about my inability to keep up that I started to cry and said I hated it. No wonder no one wanted me in their team!

So, I volunteered myself as the team marshal - donning a high vis vest and lollipop to help direct the traffic on the route. It sounded fun on paper but the reality was that I was JEALOUS and couldn't get over the fact that I wasn't taking part. Even if I'd entered the race and been last, I would have loved just getting over the finish line. Even if I'd hated every minute of it. You just can't beat the satisfaction of getting there and accomplishing something, especially when it's really difficult. I felt so left out of the post-race chat that I went into a proper sulk. And then got even more mad because my hubby is doing ANOTHER race this weekend and I'm not invited. It's brought back horrible memories... I'm back at school and no one wants me in their netball team.

Stop! I'm not going to feel sorry for myself for a minute longer. I'm so proud of B for doing really well in the race and know that I just need to work really hard, be brave, and not let myself get left out again.