Training Log Archive: abiperk

Post-race: My left IT band is pretty banged up (though improving) and I have some gnarly tendonitis in my left wrist (not improving so quickly, likely in part because of the 30-pound toddler that needs some love). It took me 48 hours to be able to get down more than a couple bites of food, but yesterday I was finally able to start eating.

I've spent a lot of time thinking and reflecting about my own experience during the race, and the experience with the team. I'm a bit baffled by the nutritional issues and disappointed that I wasn't able to get on top of them. Lots of takeaways from this race and lots still to sort through. And as always, grateful for my teammates for keeping us together and getting us across the line in one piece.

C • Hi Abi Lovely to meet you a... 3

Stretching and yoga with the XC team. Also jogged around the track a bit, which felt surprisingly nice.

We left the pub around 6pm and got nearly up to the top of Carrantoohil (the highest mountain in Ireland) before we pulled out our headlamps. It was still rainy, windy, and foggy, and the knife edge peak was a little tricky, but we picked our way through it, and then across the ridge, and finally to the last CP and down the other side. We lost 5-10 minutes on Carrantoohil looking for the actual punch (the clue was 5m east of summit cross, and it ended up being 5m north. Wouldn't have been a big deal, if not for the conditions), but otherwise it was relatively uneventful.

We followed the arrows back to the road and trekked the final kilometers on road into the final TA, where we'd time out until daylight.

90 minutes on a bench inside a bright room.

Lazy canoe into the finish. Our 8th place position was set, and we wanted to enjoy the sun - finally!

The trek down Brandon, through to the end of the bike, was the lowest point in the race for me. I continued to struggle nutritionally, my knees were sore, and I was just in a bad head space.

In the middle of the final ride, I fell asleep on the bike and swerved toward the right lane -- just as a mac truck was inching over into the left. If not for the tug of Jim's tow, it may have ended very badly.

I held it together into the TA, then advised the guys that I would be taking a couple minutes to cry - more an emotional release than anything. I did, then wrote the requisite team blog, and slinked away into a dark closet for 30 minutes while the guys managed the TA.

The final major leg of the race. I managed to pull myself together after the quick sleep, and we actually had a great trek. There were two discrete sections to it, each with two CP's. We made quick work of the first half -- one of the best splits in the field, it turned out -- and came back down to the road around 4pm. We were all cold and wet at that point and a bit anxious about going back up into the mountains in those conditions. We spent a few minutes searching for a protected spot (a shed, a house, etc...), and were ultimately rewarded with the Climbers Cafe, a pub/b&b right along the Kerry Way. We had actually passed it on a drive before the race, and Brent remembered it a couple hundred meters before we spotted it.

We stopped for about an hour to eat and warm up. The guys each had a guinness (their second or third of the race? Gotta love Irish pubs), and Jim fashioned us all vests out of our AMK bivvy sacks.

Sacked out at the hotel.

We thought we'd left ourselves plenty of time for the ferry but we hadn't accounted for the wind. I stayed on tow the whole time and Brent was on for stretches as well - without it, we were being blown out from under our bikes. Without Jim's help, I would never have made the ferry. We got there with about 15 minutes to spare.

I enjoyed the adrenaline-packed ride but was totally wrecked by the time we got onto the ferry, and was still struggling to take in calories, especially while hooked up to a tow. We paused for a couple minutes when we got off the boat to change into dry(-er) clothes, and again a handful of kilometers later when we finally decided to check my brake.

Turned out, it was completely locked up -- wouldn't even make it one rotation when I spun it. Which helped to explain why I was so tapped out, and also further affirmed Jim's superhuman strength.

Brake finally fixed, we continued on, riding reasonably efficiently and stopping every 60 minutes for a 5-minute fuel break.

We battled winds the entire day and finally made it to the TA at Mount Brandon around 3pm.

Following a sluggish TA, where we chatted with Rob Howard and debated our post-trek food/sleep plans, we had an out-and-back on Mount Brandon. Brent's stomach revolted on the way up and he left a trail all the way up the mountain (thank goodness for med kit drugs!), but he recovered like a champ and was positively giddy at the top, where winds topped out at over 70mph.

We had a slow trek down and then learned that there were no rooms at the TA/b&b. Not a fun moment. We ate soup and sandwiches and debated our options...

...and then the owners offered us their living room. It was cold on the concrete floor, but dry. A couple hours of fitful sleep.

The next 10 hours were mildly absurd. We fought the weather and also rows and rows of unmapped rocks that totally stalled us in our tracks.

I also basically stopped eating around 1am Friday morning. One minute, I was fine, the next, I couldn't choke any food down. I thought it was just a wave that would pass but should have been far more attentive to it. I remained in a hole through the rest of the race.

Finally, at 5:15am, we cried uncle, pulled out our bothy bag, and bedded down until dawn, when we hoped to be able to see a clear path out. Between the storm, the cold, and the nutrition, I was in pretty bad shape by this point, and the second the bothy went over my head, I was out. I don't think the other guys slept at all.

When the sun rose, we got a better view of the landscape. We headed in the wrong direction for a bit but then righted ourselves and found the channel that took us south toward the river into Galway. The wind and upstream currents made it painfully slow, but ultimately we made our way to the portage waypoint on the river.

In hindsight, that failed sleep in TA cost us steeply on this leg. Had we transitioned to the water right away (and had we been able to fight off sleep monsters) we likely would have been off the water by the time the storm rolled in.

C • bothy bag! 2

Because of the weather, they canceled the portage and paddle across the Galway Bay and instead transported our bike boxes to the takeout. From there, we rode through the town to the Kinvara Community Center and the proper TA.

When I took my bike out of the box, the front brake pad had fallen off. Brent and Jim put in a new one, and Brent mentioned it was particularly tight, but it seemed to be riding okay when I tested it. As soon as we rolled out of TA, though, it was clear I didn't have any power, so Jim handed me the tow and we booked it to Kinvara. I should have checked the wheel more closely at that point.

Quick TA catnap. Surprisingly restful for 30 minutes.

This ride took us through the caves, up and over a berm, and along the coast to the Cliffs of Moher. The best riding of the race.

We learned at the Kinvara TA that the 24-hour ferry crossing had been canceled and that we'd be relying on a commercial ferry that ran only from 7am to 9pm. There would be a timed out dark zone for anyone who got to the ferry site after 9am. We'd have to be on the 7am in order to be able to complete the coasteering stage (and therefore stay full course).

We knew we wouldn't be able to get to the crossing by 9pm, but we also didn't think we'd be able to find any lodging nearby by the time we did arrive, after midnight. So, we forewent the time credit and instead stopped at a hotel about 8km from the Cliffs of Moher. We arrived at 9:30pm and were greeted by the Bob Kittens. We got the last room, and even though the kitchen had already closed, the manager managed to scrounge up some pizzas for us.

I ate a couple slices and also had some hot milk, hoping that it would settle my stomach.