Dartmoor Classic Sportive, 67 miles, 5th event

                                                                                         

The first 4 photos were taken by Graham Brodie

Sunday 21 June 2015.  The Dartmoor Classic.  All the bitterly cold, dark night commutes over winter and long weekend rides had finally come to this.  A potent cocktail:  Over 3,000 riders.  67.5 miles.  6,300 foot of climbing.  Dartmoor, an environment so inhospitable they built a prison there.   A sideways figure of 8 route starting from Newton Abbot Racecourse through Bovey Tracey, Beckaford, Hay Tor, skirting Ashburton and Holne, up to Princetown. Down past the Warren House Inn to  Moretonhampstead, then Doccombe to Dunsford before turning back to Newton Abbot.  A new strava king of the mountains challenge on one of the climbs.  Mix in a westerly headwind and you have all the hall marks of a great event.

It's iconic.  It sells out in half a day every year.  It's not hard to see why.

Hay Tor

Came down with a sore throat on Friday
afternoon, then a cold.  Thankfully,
not a bad one.  Doesn't even qualify as man flu.
Still, am not feeling great.  That's what paracetamol
is for.  Right? I've raised more than £1,000 now for Jeremiah's Journey and St Lukes.  They need the money and there's no backing out!

I've gone all MAMIL and aero.  I've sun creamed more in hope that expectation. This being Devon, I've also stashed a gilet in a back pocket. Applied anti chaffing cream to strategic bits.  Cleaned and serviced bike.  Bought half of TORQ's supply of energy gels and bars (check their share price) even though there is a feed station at Princetown.  Attached rear bike light out of paranoia it might rain. (It's the lightest month of the year, what am I thinking?)  Inflate tyres to 110 psi.  Probably too hard but don't want to risk a puncture as I am rubbish at changing the inner tube.  Drink lots of water in advance to compensate for dehydrating effects of having a cold.

Get chatting to a guy in the starting pen.  His first time and he's looking forward to it.  Voice in my head: Do I really need another wee or is it pre-race nerves?  Too late.  We leave Newton Abbot racecourse en masse, escorted by a patrol car in a neutralised section until the race...er sportive starts a few miles up the road.

Out through Bovey Tracey, heading towards Beckaford.  Gorgeous countryside - stunning views.  Impeccably
organised and marshaled event.  Great camaraderie.
Did I mention some hills?

Princetown is about half way.  I crammed in the fuel:
Flapjack, bananas, energy bar. etc etc.  More please.

The last 17 miles were downhill or flat and that's
when the fun started.  Got on to a chain gang (ie
a line) of about 6 or 7.  The formation comes from
the fact that it is harder to cycle at the front of the
gang than in the shelter of another rider.  The riders
behind enjoy the slipstream of the rider in front and
the effect is significant - apparently up to 40%

Holne Chase by Joseph Harnett, a cat 4 climb

reduction in effort.  I can't imagine I get quite that
much benefit as I'm nervous cycling in a group and
hang back a little more.

We co-operated well and surprisingly, I felt strong.
During one of my turns at the front,
I glanced back but couldn't see any of the riders.  Unintentionally, I'd left them behind.  Rookie mistake.  Should've learned from my last event!  I carried on, passing the odd rider.  About 5 miles from the finish I was given a lesson in why, at times, cycling is a team sport:  The chain gang, with their relatively fresher legs, cruised by.  Smug boys.  Where had they come from?

I jump on the  wheel of man on a bright green Trek at the back of the gang and dig in.  3 miles left, we shimmy through an outlying estate in Newton Abbot.  Up a hill, I drop a gear into the small ring at the front and somehow go through the entire group.  I'm out front and need to make a move.  Queue the training from Dawn's spinning classes.

Managed to keep a lead until hitting a red light just before the racecourse.  Marshall makes sure no-one jumps it.  2 people catch me whilst I wait for it to turn green.  Noooooo!  One is decked in the regalia of the Yogis, our local rivals.   Now it's all high stakes drama.  Can't be beaten by a Yogi.  Come back Yogi man.  Into the finishing area, the crowd is cheering and I go all out into a sprint (in my head at least), nudge in front and hang on.  Just.  Probably looked like a madman.  Not that I'm competitive or anything.

Official time 4:32:16, but I make it 4:38:04 which includes the neutralised section at the start.  9 mins quicker than last year.  Going to be really wobbly tomorrow.

If you would like to sponsor me, please go to:

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/StephenDilley

If you want to know more about what St Lukes and Jeremiahs Journey are doing in summer, please go to:

https://www.stlukes-hospice.org.uk/

http://www.jeremiahsjourney.org.uk/

Hammer Sportive, 66.8 miles, 5,460ft climbing, 4th event

£1,110 raised to date (including gift aid) for St Lukes and Jeremiah's Journey.  Thank you very much.  Both charities have lots going on at the moment, if you want to check out their websites:

www.stlukes-hospice.org.uk

www.jeremiahsjourney.org.uk


Here is a link to my fundraising page if you wish to donate:

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/StephenDilley





The Hammer Sportive in 13:

1. It's not clever to leave your post ride banana in your pocket as you drive to the event.  It may end up mushy necessitating its immediate consumption.

2. What was once a free car park may since have been visited by the car park gremlins.  They get everywhere and will make sure you can only pay with coins, not a note, your card or fancy mobile app.   Don't forget your change as its embarrassing to scrounge from strangers, even if they are fellow competitors.

3. The South Hams really are lovely in the spring and one of the most beautiful parts was Slapton Ley.

4. It's trite law amongst cyclists, but jumping on the back of a chaingang really does give you an extra gear.  I mostly cycle alone, so this was a welcome revelation.  It was probably a bit rude of me to sit on the back and not take my turn.

5. The infamous "hover" may be your enemy in spin classes, but come race day it'll be your friend.  I was definitely stronger up the hills this year.  I left that handy chaingang behind on the climb up to Strete making it hard work the rest of the event!  Stupid boy.

6. Bike handling skills are not my forte, especially the descents.  Think my 2 year old on his balance bike could've given me a run for my money.  Thankfully, I didn't crash and nobody laughed as they flew by.  Frustrating though that it undoes my uphill work!

7. Belgian waffles are great fuel for a mid ride snack.  I gobbled like a gannet.  Shameless.

8. It may have looked like a nice day to you Mr Hemsley, but honestly the wind at times made me wobble.

9. People you meet on the journey are amazing.  Take the veteran wearing a yellow Raleigh jersey (we'll imaginatively call him Raleigh man).  I saw him pushing his bike up a steep climb off the A3121.  As I drew level, Raleigh man explained that he could've ridden the hill instead of walk, but at last year's Hammer he'd had a heart attack at this very spot which put him out of action for 4 months, so he needed to keep his heart rate low.  (He passed me again later.  On a downhill).

10. Singing out loud through the pain towards the end didn't say much for my sanity, but it gave me a nice pick up:  Nina Simone's Ain't Got No/I've Got Life and Frank Sinatra's My Way.  Where did they pop into my head from?  Best not dwell on it.  Thankfully, I don't think anyone else heard.

11. Getting sponsored for Jeremiah's Journey and St Lukes definitely helped me dig deep.

12. The finish at Salcombe is like an alpine climb - 5 hairpin bends.  Epic.

13. I think I need a new knee and someone to roll my back out straight, please.


Course completed in 4 hours, 42 minutes, phew.

The aftermath:

- Home made shepherd's pie for tea never tasted so good! 
- Loped like a cowboy at work today.

Dartington Duathlon, sprint distance, 3rd event

Sprint distance duathlon on 29 March.  5k run/20k bike/2.5k trail run.  Needed to set my gear up before the 8.15am race briefing and clocks went forward last night, so it felt like an extra early start.  Not done a multi-discipline event for a while and forgot how much paraphernalia you need.

Comparatively, this ought to be one of the easier events - it's shorter.  However, the lead up was not ideal, just got over a late seasonal dose of man flu that wiped me out for a fortnight and last night there was a loud storm which kept our 2 year old awake.  A lot.  As day broke, the wind fulfilled the promise of my BBC weather app which had forecast 45mph gusts.  Far from ideal cycling weather.

Nice to see friends from Plymouth Tri Club and Plymstock Road Runners who were competing or supporting.

Reasonable, but not racy 5k in 21:19, careful to keep some in reserve, but difficult to decide quite how much as I don't do many duathlons.  Just avoided a wipe out on a 90 degree left turn, but otherwise uneventful.

I'd dithered over what to wear before the race started.  Running gets hot.  Cycling can be cold.  Ended up shrouded in a significant part of my wardrobe which came in handy as it threw it down during the bike leg.    An abbreviated 3 lap/15k cycling course through the Dartington estate due to road works on the normal course was a welcome relief.  Tentative on the downhills - horizontal rain obscured my vision, had to ditch the shades.  Squeeze the brakes and not much happens.  Took it fairly easy and instead pushed it on the climbs (spinning helped with that).  Even got into a bit of a race off with someone who kept catching me up; otherwise the ride was a little like a neutralized section, steady average speed.  35:26.

Glad to get on to the final trail run and this is where Monday night's brick sessions helped me avoid the usual wobbly leg syndrome of transitioning from bike to run.  Slippy down hill, then muddy and twisty near the river, before picking up on the climbs and even overtook a few people before the end.  12:07

1:10 overall.  37th out of 149.

Big ride coming in 2 weeks...

The Hut that Rocks

As at 25 March I have raised £1,072 for St Lukes and Jeremiah's Journey.  Thank you very much to those who have sponsored me so far.  I know the funds are hugely appreciated. Here is the link for anyone wishing to donate:

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/StephenDilley


Next event is a sprint distance duathlon on 29 March followed by a sportive 2 weeks later.  Need to up my game on the bike.  This implies I have a game to up in the first place.  I love cycling but it's my weakest discipline.

Road cycling isn't at its best during the winter months.  Cold, wet, slippy and dark.  I remember one Friday night in January on the long commute home forgetting my overshoes and my feet going numb .  Chuffers.  Bring on the Hut that Rocks, a spinning class put on by Plymouth Tri Club each Monday evening at Plymstock School and currently led by Dawn who cleaned and serviced all the bikes herself.  Don't they look good?  Indoors and weather proofed.

Spinning?  It's high intensity exercise on a stationary bike whilst adding or subtracting resistance, to pounding music. There are three positions.  Sitting down, standing upright and then bending forwards with your weight back just over the saddle - called the hover, aiming to activate your core.  Hmmm.

After every class you feel exhausted, but there's a great camaraderie, because the whole class feels that way.  Then there's the banter.

Why the Hut that Rocks?  It started back in the day to rock music as an aid to what we were doing.  So the chorus of Iron Maiden's Run to the Hills literally had us standing up and "running" on the bikes and that would be followed by tracks where we were climbing the hills we'd run to.  Rage Against the Machine (Killing in the Name) was obviously a hills track.  Tail end of last year, we diversified.  Showadywady's Hey Rock and Roll put in an appearance.  Controversial.  Not ashamed to admit I appreciated that as it's quite...cheery, but whoever requested it didn't confess.  This year, we're going in a dancy direction.  Think All About the Bass or Eat Sleep Rave Repeat.  I get a musical education and exercise all in one.

How do we start?  Usually a bit of heckling for those who missed last week, or who are late.  Don't be late.

Choose your bike.  They've all got personalities, or may be tempers.  Sort of.  On some, you can turn the handle a fraction and it's like going from zero resistance to 100%.  Try to avoid them.  Then there's the squeaky bikes.  More heckling for the squeakers.  Stinky lubricant spray comes out to sort it.

Towel, check.  Large bottle of water, check.  Adjust seat.  Get on bike and clip in.  Warm up: left leg spin; right leg spin.  Easy track finished.  Temperature in the hut has gone up a notch.  Strip off layer.  Lean over to door and open it.  Air.

Now for the serious stuff.  45 minutes.  The tracks:

The standing up one with resistance.  Relieved to sit down afterwards.  Resistance off.  Drink.  Towel.    The sprint track with low resistance.  Fast spinning.  Can't hold on that long.  Towel.  The seated hill climb, arms behind our backs.  Slow legs.  Load it on, one more click.  "Put 2 more on Steve Dilley".  What did I say?  More drink.  The one where we hover for the whole track.  Not supposed to bear weight on your arms, but can't see how people don't (or may be my core isn't co-operating enough).  Drink.  Towel.  The one where we stand up for 8, hover for 8 (a form of sports torture, please, make it stop).  Imagine week 1 of Strictly Come Dancing where Bruno Tonioli does his wobbly impression of the weaker contestants.  That's me on this track.  Like some sort of deranged puppet.  If this was a dance off, I'd be out.  Drink.  Towel.  Then there's the one where you loosen the handle bars and wiggle them from side to side to work your upper body.  Don't mind that one.  Drink nearly empty.  The "bit of everything" track.  Stay with it.  The "please let this be the last one track".  Then there's one more for good measure.  Collapse on bike, face down.

Love it, love it, love it.

Dawn "For those who aren't going running, you can warm down here.  Everyone else, let's meet at the front gate in a few minutes.  Who is running?"  (We left someone behind once who got locked in the loo).

Running?

Fundraising update

As at 5 February, I've been raising funds for less than two weeks.  The total so far (including gift aid) is £719. 

My first sponsor, Mark Burland, was someone who just saw my post on linked in.  I had not met him and he wasn't a connection.  He knows our IT director.  Wonderful to see such humanity.

We have over 1,000 people in our business.  Try as we might, we don't always know everyone well and some of the sponsors so far have been from people I don't know.  It's humbling and it reminds me that I work in a great firm.

I know St Luke's Hospice and Jeremiah's Journey will be able to do useful things with the funds we raise.

Jeremiah's Journey have lots of fund raising events coming up, for anyone interested, including the Plymouth half Marathon in spring:

http://www.jeremiahsjourney.org.uk/run-raise-money-jeremiahs-journey/

As a small charity, every penny makes a difference to local families who are anticipating the death of someone special or who have been bereaved. Sadly their service will always be needed and this is why your support is so important.

St Luke's Hospice are planning a midnight walk for women on 18 July, in case anyone is interested.

https://www.stlukes-hospice.org.uk/

St Luke's care for people with serious illnesses such as cancer, motor neurone disease, heart failure, multiple sclerosis and chronic lung disease, treating any adult over the age of 18.  They are still planning additional medical, nursing and support services we can provide in the future, to support professionals, patients and their carers.

Thank you to everyone who has contributed.  If you would like to make a donation, here is my site:

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/StephenDilley

52 days to go to my next challenge, a duathlon.

Wild Night Run, 10 miles, 1,274 ft of ascent, Second event

30 January

Rain blew in before the race (first photo).  Snow was forecast later in the evening.  (See second two photos showing the calm after the storm, the following morning).  

Village Hall HQ toasty, 136 entrants in full winter regalia.  Saw Richard Boucher and Dave "Disco" Hurrell from Plymouth Tri Club and Plymstock Road Runners.  Richard is training for an ironman and had about 10 miles to do the following day, so was planning on taking it steady.

Race got underway.  Good position at start.  Climbing first on road, down through an icy stream and up on a track to Didworthy.  Slushy.  At Shipley Bridge, rain changed to sleet, then horizontal snow brought on a bitter north easterly wind blew directly into our faces for a few miles on the valley floor.  Visibility poor.  Head down, endure.  At least the tarmac path was the easiest surface to run on of the race, so I tried to maintain a good pace.  

Approaching Avon Dam, branching off the tarmac path on to gravel and passed a few runners on climb up to Dartmoor.  Briefly caught my friend Dave adjusting his backpack.  By the reservoir, the path became disjointed and slow going.  I jumped/stumbled over boulders and through pools of water.  Pleased when the path forked right, becoming wider and easier and climbed again.  The snow stopped.  The fallen snow reflecting light from the full moon made it easy to see the path.  Reached the highest point at about half way and it was beautiful.  I was mostly running by myself at this stage, but caught a few people and was in turn caught by a few others. Picked out a chain of head torches to follow and fluorescent posts marking the course.  This was a really enjoyable section of the race, one of those moments you feel very alive.

Gradual moorland descent.  Every darker patch of peaty ground signalled a particularly boggy mire where you needed avoid tripping.  Downhill became more uneven, rocky and steeper - over streams, between gorse, ducking low trees.  Got caught by others as I'm not very agile.  Great camaraderie as we encouraged each other through it.  Someone tripped and fell in front of me but managed to get up again.

Snow returned, but this time the wind was behind us.  Clumsily over a gate, lost time, had to make it up again up a hill, then off the moor at last and more downhill on road, before a sharp left turn led up the side of Brent Hill and on to a really slippery section.  Could feel my calves tightening up and realised I was close to cramping, so eased off very slightly.  Over a road, into fields.  A marshal directed 4 runners in front of me the wrong way.  I got ahead of them, knowing the only way out was over a stile and called for them to follow.

A mile later, calves telling me cramp was about to bite, but I was close to the finish.  Over a railway bridge and had to do a funny looking cowboy gait just before the finish line to avoid full on cramp, letting someone past me, but I didn't begrudge him that.  Couldn't have done more.

1 hour, 29 mins, 32 seconds.  17th position.  

It was a shorter course and had less ascent than Oh my Obelisk, but the ground was more uneven, so it was slower going.  I was pleased with the time.  Definitely benefited from my recces.  Really special race.

Photos of Dave and I at the end:

Are you a twitcher?

Spoiler alert.  This entry is for nature lovers. My cousin Hayley might like it.  Feel free to skip if you don't like the big outdoors.

A lot of triathlon training is done alone.  We all have different individual goals and training plans.  I also prefer to do swims and cycling early in the morning. It has less disruption on family life, so I don't do as many of the evening or daytime sessions with our tri club.  I live out in the sticks and most people in my club live and train closer to civilisation.

I would benefit from cycling with a group to improve speed and technique and sometimes look wistfully at online posts of friends enjoying long Saturday rides at sociable times of the day with cafe stops.  I like training with people and am partial to a slice of cake.  I might come back to that later.

January's key weekend sessions have been about long early morning runs.  A time of closed doors, drawn curtains and central heating.  Most people sensibly asleep.

Hat, gloves, headtorch, water, phone, map.  Check. GPS watch to measure speed, distance and time.  Check.

Forcing myself outside from a cosy slumber into the half light.  Cold, damp, windy.  I live in a village on the edge of Dartmoor known for its wet micro climate.  Come on Garmin, find the satellites, I need to move.

Nods and hushed good mornings exchanged with a small fraternity of paper boys and dog walkers.  Mind the odd car with dazzling headlights going too fast or a keen cyclist braving the chill.

Almost every route starts with a climb which gets my heart pumping.  At least you warm up quickly.  Up, up, up and out of the village.  Over a stile or through a squeaky kissing gate on to trails and fields.  Freedom.  This time of day I have it all to myself, the paths, the stones, the streams and the woods.  It's just brilliant.  Even the bird chatter is muted.

A while back, I saw 2 deer together on a quiet road really close up.  Poor deer got freaked out.  I must've looked like a lumbering ox to them and they scrabbled around before bolting. Rarely, I spot a fox presumably hunting for breakfast.  In a month or so, I expect I will see buzzards and I know they won't be fazed by my presence.

Were my boss Gareth ever to read this blog, it's at this point he'd call across the corridor to me:

"Are you one of those, Dilley?"
"What?" I'd ask, struggling to suppress a smile.  Gareth is a born entertainer and I know exactly where he's going.
"One of those."
"What?"
"A twitcher."
"I just said there'd be buzzards."
"There's no need to be embarrassed."
"I'm not."
"But you might want to rethink it if you are a twitcher."
"I'm not."

I might get a job working with Chris Packham.  I love Springwatch.

I may see the odd walker or runner an hour into the run and we'd stop and exchange pleasantries in the wilderness and ask where the other had been or was headed.  We might share a warning about the state of the path.

I practice the route of my next event, the Wild Night Run, twice before the race, once in reverse.  I've lived in South Brent for 9 years and have done a fair amount of running, but not on a significant section of this route.  I enjoy exploring.

There's a section on Dartmoor where the path seems to vanish (so typical of Dartmoor paths) and I end up in a half leap/stumble between grassy hillocks hoping that I am headed in the right direction.  Between each tuft is the mushy peat of the moor, but the grass is overgrown and I can't always be sure where my foot will land.  It's sodden and easy to sink.  Hope there's no grass snakes about.

A few years ago I learned the hard way that you really need to concentrate where you're treading off road.  I came a cropper somewhere on the 2 Moors Way.  I'd been admiring the stunning bleakness of the hills and was in a world of my own.  I should of course have been focussing on the present, where I put my next step and missing a rock. There's probably a wider life lesson in that.

I pause to check a map and take two photos. The sun has risen fully and there's an icy blue winter sky.  There's no snow on this part of the moor, but later someone posts pictures online of snow near Princetown.  I half wish I had stopped to take more photos earlier of a waterfall or at least something more distinctive, but I hadn't thought to do a blog then and I am trying to get round reasonably quickly so that Rachel can go swimming.

I get a bit lost.  Dartmoor is rolling terrain and doesn't have as many easily identifiable hills as the Peaks in Derbyshire or the Lake District.  I am worried I might inadvertently blunder into farmland, or leave the moor in the wrong place which could add miles on to the route.  More likely, I'll come across gorse which grows in places like a minefield.  Best to skirt round those entirely unless you're sure of the line through.  In the back of my mind lurks the fear of twisting an ankle.  It would take ages to find someone up here.  It is remote.  For this reason, I run with a phone and at some point I'll get round to buying a small backpack so I can travel with a coat and other essentials.

I run past sheep who glance at me curiously, probably rightly wondering what I'm doing here.  Once I see Dartmoor ponies, manes flapping in the wind.  They're cute, but no Rob Mackie, I wouldn't pick one up.

I pause and check the map.  Over time, I have come to realise its better to take a few minutes to stop and think than to carry on.  I think I am headed vaguely in the right direction, but its ages since there has been any kind of path.  Keep the faith.  Over a knoll, a trail emerges.  I am homeward bound, guided by the distinctive angular lines of Brent Hill on the horizon.  This still doesn't stop me getting navigationally challenged again and I have to ask a couple who are out walking where I am.  (I have no shame about asking for directions).  Actually its good news and I'm right where I thought I was.  Should've been more confident.

25 minutes later, home.  Stop outside and stretch.  Strip off muddy shoes and socks.  Door open.  Tom loudly exclaims "Dad!" and "Run!" as I go inside.  Great life affirming feeling.  Wish I could bottle it.

Must eat soon to replace energy whilst my pulse is raised - I'll recover quicker if I do.  Tom will want some of my breakfast too.  He has a huge appetite in the morning.  "Big bit Dad."  "More."

Next stop, spinning on Monday and the hover.