howies®

Yesterday I tripped upto Manchester to see Oi Poloi to show them the new Spring/Summer range for 2011.

I had 3 huge bags to show them so it was a driving mission, but this means passing up through North Wales and mountains.

Which also means Cader Idris on the way home. The run is from 300ft to 2854ft and back in 7 miles.

4pm I parked up, hid all my stuff round the car. Put on shorts, shoes and merino, stretched and plodded off to the steps.

The first few hundred feet are steps and stones that need a slow constant warming pace.

By the top of these I am drenched in sweat, breathing to the bottom of my lungs and my legs are burning.

The steps stop, the mountain still climbs on rocks, gravel and grass. The sun is in my eyes, my shades are off as the lenses are already sweat stained. I tap out a constant pace. I pass all the walkers coming off the hill to go home.

I try to thank them for moving aside but my breathing is too hard and I am beginning to descend into that level of concentration you need when pushing beyond.

I reach the lake and decide that today is the day to go right to the top, round and down. But I have bought no water or food.

The climb from the lake really kick. I can run short sections and then others it’s marching pushing on my legs. I pass another set of walkers who look at me with questioning faces.

The trail flattens for a short spell and I calm my breathing and concentrate hard on a smooth pace.

I run, march, run, march up and up feeling the onset of dehydration. When I look back this was the toughest bit. I run a sentence through my head over and over asking the next walkers if I can have some of their water. Will I ask, won’t I ask?  The last people thought I was mad. Who wants to speak to a sweating runner in the wilds.

No one comes along. I see bilberry bushes along the trail that all seem bare. I search harder and find that bushes in the shade of rocks have fruit. I eat every one I find no matter how ripe.  50 berries kick in. Pace rises.

I see the top with a ladder over a fence where I stop and look at the view. 44 minutes.  I look down to the lake and rejoice.

I then look along the ridge and see I still have a decent and another climb. A big climb. To higher than where I am.

I am not at the top.

I am super hot, vision is blurred and my hands feel tight and cramp like. And I am not at the top. I am a long way off and this knocks me.

I have a very long steep decent followed by a sharp climb. People are coming down and I can only just see them. Should I continue. Will going on be harder than going back. I can’t get this far and not do this. Now or never.

Top off, volume up, wipe face and down the slope. It is really steep and loose and I have trouble slowing down. I am worrying about injury and my ability to get round and I am making mistakes.

I meet the walkers at the bottom of the climb. They all smile and say hi and I cannot bring myself to ask for water. Am I embarrassed about being so far out and so unprepared?

I start the last climb. I can’t run, but I maintain my fast march. I look for bilberries but up this high there is nothing but rock. I look for pools of water, but the only ones are peaty.

Then there is the last gully to the trig point. It’s looks like a greek mountain. And then I am up.

I spend 10 minutes at the top. Absolute silence. Birds are on the floor resting. No wind. The Irish sea to the fore and North Wales behind. There is a rock shelter.

It all come back. My legs. My breath. My confidence. I have done it and now I just have to get back.

I hear voices and decide to descend.

The fist section is over grass. Steep and fast. Rocks appear. Picking a line has to be fast and acurate.

I then enter back into rocks and gravel and the perfect hip hip mix enters the head phones. I pick up the pace across the rocks despite the gradient feeling like vertical and relax into the tune. I dance down the boulders. The more I relax the faster I can be.

There is nothing right now but the rhythm and my rhythm.  I am now flying along and I have shoved the fear of falling away.

I join the path I climbed up on and know it’s steps all the way to the car. I pass all the walkers I passed on the climb. I replay the last track and dance the last decent to the car.

On the very last step I stop and whoop.

I am soaked, boiling hot, my knees and ankles are painful, my shoulders and back are stiff but I feel like I won.Further, higher, longer and faster.

And I beat my head.

I’ve been running since last year.

Well, I  say ‘running’ … I mean going out with a specific route in mind, and aiming for a speed at least a couple of times a month, usually a couple of times a week.

This weekend I will be running in my first organised race, the Bristol Half Marathon.

With 4 days to go, it’s playing on my mind, I can’t stop thinking about it.

Have I done enough training? (probably not.)
Can I pace myself for the first half? (maybe…)
Will I be able to finish? (yeeeah.)
Will I be fast? (Don’t be stupid.)

I’m aiming to finish in under 1 hour 40. With my own absurd target being 1 hour 30.

I figure there are three key points that will help me in the race as opposed to training on my own.

1 – Bristol is flat. A lot flatter than Pembrokeshire.
2 – There will be well organised and regular drink stops. I often dehydrate half way through my run and finish with a headache.
3 – I will be running in a pack and will be able to tune out easier once I find someone to pace myself with.

The nervous energy is building in my legs.

It can’t start soon enough.

Tomorrow is 16 days to the do lectures.

They have a tent that can fit 100 people.

20 speakers and 80 attendees.

It’s 4 days long.

The location is idyllic and accommodation superbly comfortable.

The lectures inspiring.

The food will be local and made by Anja who worked here and is now writing her own cook book.

The company will leave you with friends and stories for life.

And I will be taking attendees running.

And they have just 4 tickets left

So if you want to spend 4 days washing around in intellectual compost that will  return you to your world ready to make change then buy now.

It is one of the most inspirational things that I have ever done.

Call 01239 62 35 84 and tell em we sent you.

I wasn’t really planning to be competitive until Ade posted this.

But that sparked something. And now I’m driving myself to win.

For three weeks now, I have been running around 40km every week.
Including two half marathons.

I have been practising my strong finish, and my interval sprints, and running up lots of stairs.

I know Ade has an edge on the bike, but I am sure that the gap when running is narrowing.

My legs and lungs are different animals than they were even a month ago.

Third half marathon on Sunday. New record to set.

This week Scott from the Cardigan shop, Ruben our web manager, Nathan in Finance and old me signed up to compete in a Survival of the Fittest event on the 3rd of October.

It started as an e-mail challenge from Nathan and has now developed into some quite strong office bravado.

And we are four distinct active humans.

Nathan does both gym work for strength and runs in the real world. He looks lean and has great motivation. He trains regularly

Scott is a strong paddler (check out his blog!), runner, coastering very lean outdoor boy. He’s always doing something.

Ruben is a runner and biker who is running good distance weekly and riding the trails at the weekend.

And then there is me. The oldest. (This week I really really thought I was still 37 and I am actually 39) Adhoc biker first and runner. Always covered distance.

So we are pitting ourselves slightly against each other on a 10km run with challenges along the route like walls, steps, swims etc.

So in my preparation I started running again today. The usual 6 miles round fforest but with a swim in the surprisingly warm Teifi along the way and despite 2 months off the pins was only a few minutes off my best. (I’ve just climbed out in the pic).

My training is going to be real. Bike, legs, trails, river, sea, logs, lifting, scrambling.

And to have a goal, a test, a challenge and a focus is a real zing. I find myself waking up in the night thinking of pace, stride, breathing and getting into that amazing place of pain and focus.

We have entered to leave in the last Wave 12.

Will you race with us? Will you race against us? Enter now.

This week’s T-shirt of the Week is ‘Head For The Hills’

Head for the hills.
Go as high as you can go.
They’ll help you find yourself.
They’ll turn your mountains into molehills.
And they’ll unravel your knots on the way back down.

Available on Vintage Red for men and for women.

Well more lovely weather is headed our way this weekend.

Mel and I are super happy with waves we had this week too.

All in all a good one.

So with more sunny days ahead I am sure more nice pictures will be taken.

I am going for the sunshine look on the howies look blog to keep the glow alive!

Send me some happy sunny day shots of what you have been up to on this 4 day week… evening bike rides, early morning sunrise runs or good old evenings at the beach.

Email them to me : anna@howies.co.uk

howies is nice and relaxed today with a nice group dinner at the river, planning canoeing trips and genreal tom foolery!

Have a splendid weekend.

The sports that we’re into aren’t team sports…they are sort of solitary really.  But if you ask anyone about their best days riding, they will always say a day when they’ve been out with an awesome group of mates who inspire them.  There are certain friends who push me more to ride faster and try something new.

I just stumbled upon this edit of an interview with a snowboarder called Jess Kimura.  It’s from an all girl’s production Peep Show, which was released this winter.  Anyway she sums up that feeling of riding with your mates perfectly.  It’s a really sweet video, so check it out…

After a day in meetings looking at new software and meeting a website company, lunch today had to be a run round fforest.

Right out the back or the woods running along the river in the blazing sun it felt right for the first river swim of the year.

I used to skinny dip as a kid in the irrigation ditches round Portishead, and that feeling of jumping into cold water where you can’t see the bottom and your mum would go mad if she knew is still there.

Once I was in the flow took me  feet down river super quick with my feet knowing on sunken trees and it was a fight back to my clothes.

Mum was right, but I wouldn’t let her know that.

Two adventures for lunch.

Ade and I just got home from a whirlwind trip up to Manchester to meet some people and learn some stuff.

On the way there we passed one of Wales’ most famous mountains, Cader Idris, and had a go at running up it.

The low clouds and mist coupled with the fading light made for a great atmosphere filled with looming rock faces and peaks rising out of the gloom.

We made it up the hundreds of beautifully built stone steps and to the lake in the middle, where we turned around and came back down to beat the dark.

40 minutes of real life doodle jump.

It was an amazing place and a great run. Must go back.

(And in case you were wondering, the echo up there was brilliant)