Adapt or Die
I first heard about the Scotland Coast to Coast race in late 2012, around the same time that I ended a very difficult three year relationship. It was a time where I really needed a purpose, a mission, something to give me back the confidence that had gone missing over the last few years. The race, scheduled for September 2013, involves 105 miles of cycling, running and kayaking stages across Scotland's beautiful Highlands.
Given the intensity of the race, this was originally suggested as a group race. Due to calendar conflicts, I ended up being the only one who could do it, and who had been eager enough to actually sign up. Fine by me. It meant I had something really meaty to focus on and it was the opportunity to become an athlete again - I had competed in various sports in school, and missed it.
My family were very supportive, and for Christmas 2012 my mum gave me a Garmin Forerunner 910XT, one of the most advanced and technical training watches available. This meant I could record my heart rate, distance and intensities across different disciplines. I couldn't wait to get started! 2013 started with a 6am, 2 hour hike up a local 2,000m mountain with my brother-in-law, summiting just in time for a reflective, calm sunrise.
Over the next six months, my training took pace and shape. I won a spot on Hervélo's (my women's cycling club) Race Team, with a coach and weekly training plan to suit. Slowly my kit started to improve, and I began to run the 12km to work from time to time. I went mountain biking in the Pentlands on my commute home, a minimum 30km detour. I entered races to test my progress in line with what was going to be expected in the actual race in September, including the Mighty Deerstalker and the Edinburgh Half Marathon.
My motivation kept up, and I loved it all. I felt tired and sluggish from time to time, but I put that down to my body adjusting to high performance again, age (I turned 29 in 2013), and perhaps not doing everything I could to recover properly. As such I took a closer look at my nutrition, and tried to improve as much as possible.
In late July 2013 I ran my first ever marathon, along a section of the Fife Coastal Path. This was a solo event, and was part of a fundraising effort for the Marine Conservation Society. Six of us each ran a marathon on consecutive days, starting in the Borders, through Edinburgh and along the Fife Coastal Path, raising over £3,000 in the process. My section was on a Thursday, starting in Anstruther and finishing at Tentsmuir. I was so excited by this.
On the day, it was raining a monsoon. Within minutes of leaving the car and starting my run, I was soaked to the skin and my running shoes felt like sloshy buckets. The soles of my feet were blistered within 30 minutes. Thankfully, the rain did help me to avoid overheating. But I was in good spirits. I relished the mental and physical challenge. Exactly six hours later, having run on muddy paths, golf courses, sandy beaches, and a final stretch of painful tarmac, I arrived, slightly broken and with very messy feet. But I had done it. I had finished in good spirits, having made good use of my bank of positive thoughts and memories to get me through what was more of an endurance event for the mind rather than the body. What an achievement!
I expected to feel tired after the marathon, and allowed myself slightly longer than normal to recover. However, I felt like all living energy had been leached out of me, and my energy never returned. Getting up out of a chair became near impossible. I tried to keep up with my cycling - albeit at a slower pace - but never really put my running shoes back on. There was no other option but to postpone my race entry to next year, as I really didn't want to injure myself - although my ego took it badly. Come November, my cycling had to stop as well. I literally couldn't do it. This wasn't normal, and I sought advice for my GP for it. Come January 2014, a diagnosis had been made.
I had ME.
Given the intensity of the race, this was originally suggested as a group race. Due to calendar conflicts, I ended up being the only one who could do it, and who had been eager enough to actually sign up. Fine by me. It meant I had something really meaty to focus on and it was the opportunity to become an athlete again - I had competed in various sports in school, and missed it.
My family were very supportive, and for Christmas 2012 my mum gave me a Garmin Forerunner 910XT, one of the most advanced and technical training watches available. This meant I could record my heart rate, distance and intensities across different disciplines. I couldn't wait to get started! 2013 started with a 6am, 2 hour hike up a local 2,000m mountain with my brother-in-law, summiting just in time for a reflective, calm sunrise.
Nearing the summit of Botschg, 01 January 2013 ©
Over the next six months, my training took pace and shape. I won a spot on Hervélo's (my women's cycling club) Race Team, with a coach and weekly training plan to suit. Slowly my kit started to improve, and I began to run the 12km to work from time to time. I went mountain biking in the Pentlands on my commute home, a minimum 30km detour. I entered races to test my progress in line with what was going to be expected in the actual race in September, including the Mighty Deerstalker and the Edinburgh Half Marathon.
Competing in the Mighty Deerstalker, March 2013 ©
My motivation kept up, and I loved it all. I felt tired and sluggish from time to time, but I put that down to my body adjusting to high performance again, age (I turned 29 in 2013), and perhaps not doing everything I could to recover properly. As such I took a closer look at my nutrition, and tried to improve as much as possible.
In late July 2013 I ran my first ever marathon, along a section of the Fife Coastal Path. This was a solo event, and was part of a fundraising effort for the Marine Conservation Society. Six of us each ran a marathon on consecutive days, starting in the Borders, through Edinburgh and along the Fife Coastal Path, raising over £3,000 in the process. My section was on a Thursday, starting in Anstruther and finishing at Tentsmuir. I was so excited by this.
On the day, it was raining a monsoon. Within minutes of leaving the car and starting my run, I was soaked to the skin and my running shoes felt like sloshy buckets. The soles of my feet were blistered within 30 minutes. Thankfully, the rain did help me to avoid overheating. But I was in good spirits. I relished the mental and physical challenge. Exactly six hours later, having run on muddy paths, golf courses, sandy beaches, and a final stretch of painful tarmac, I arrived, slightly broken and with very messy feet. But I had done it. I had finished in good spirits, having made good use of my bank of positive thoughts and memories to get me through what was more of an endurance event for the mind rather than the body. What an achievement!
Barely standing, but I did it! ©
I expected to feel tired after the marathon, and allowed myself slightly longer than normal to recover. However, I felt like all living energy had been leached out of me, and my energy never returned. Getting up out of a chair became near impossible. I tried to keep up with my cycling - albeit at a slower pace - but never really put my running shoes back on. There was no other option but to postpone my race entry to next year, as I really didn't want to injure myself - although my ego took it badly. Come November, my cycling had to stop as well. I literally couldn't do it. This wasn't normal, and I sought advice for my GP for it. Come January 2014, a diagnosis had been made.
I had ME.
Comments
Post a Comment