It's not really felt like training though, for one thing I'm on holiday and it's been more like playing out with my mates and having fun, which accounts for why I've done more than I need to. The bible, according to Don Fink, decrees that thou shall complete 6 hours of training in week one, comprising 2 swims, 3 runs and 3 bikes. I've done that, they've just been a bit longer/harder than suggested - surely that's not a sin?
I mean, if Christmas Eve is not a time for enjoying an 8-mile hill run with pals, then when is? Fair enough, the conditions were pretty horrendous and left to my own devices I'm not sure I'd have done it. Which goes to show I hang around with nutters who don't let the small matter of a Met Office weather warning ruin their training opportunities! The wind was howling at gale force as we tracked our way up Ben Bouie to the Christmas tree. A fir tree, which is decorated in tinsel and trimmings all year round. Great views over Loch Lomond and the Clyde from the top. Not that much time was spent admiring the views - we could barely stand upright in the howling wind.
I have IronPhil to blame for the second of my training excesses. Among my many exciting Christmas gifts ... bike tools, cycle helmet, The Grid (a hardcore foam roller designed to make you howl with pain as you roll around the lounge ironing out all manner of knots in your weary muscles), was a copy of a Sufferfest DVD. For the uninitiated, Sufferfest is exactly what it says on the tin. An American turbo- training cult - you pop in the DVD, get on your turbo trainer, watch a film of pro-cyclists doing what they do best and listen to the commentator yelling instructions at you as you try to keep up with them. Needless to say, this equates to much suffering. So much so, that as I played with my new present on Christmas Day I swear to God my eyeballs were actually sweating - or maybe it was just the blood that was pounding in my ears finding a way out. So while IronPhil sweated over a turkey dinner, I did a tough brick session - one hour of turbo suffering followed by a 15-minute transition run.
Day 3 dawned with some calmer weather, so friends arrived bright and early for a tour of our killer hills by bike. As we all reached the top of the Glen Fruin hairpins IronPhil and I couldn't decide if we still had friends, but they were still smiling and insisting they had enjoyed a good start to their Boxing Day celebrations.
So to spread the icing on the week one cake, I joined pals from Helensburgh Amateur Athletics Club, for the annual Cashel Hill run. I am so lucky to have a great playground on my doorstep and this is no exception. A tough 7k hill run on the banks of Loch Lomond. Yes, it's for charity, festive fun and handicapped start times to make it even more jolly. Trouble is, something happens when I pin a number to my top, and so, with a damning handicap time that saw me start with only 3 mountain goats behind me and IronPhil with 14-year-old son Cameron up ahead - I had my work cut out. Feeling sick from the effort of catching IronPhil and worrying that he was hot on my heels during the descent, I missed the last turn and finished in the wrong place for the second year running. At least I don't have to navigate in Bolton!
I will pace myself better as the weeks tick by, I know I will have to if I'm going to survive what is set to become a gruelling schedule - but right now it's Christmas, it's the holidays and this is what I do for fun - happy days!
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