Speed Build: Week 6: Cornwall
On Monday June 10th we travelled down to Helford to house-sit at The Boathouse. Hollys mum, Christine, is friends with the owner. As he spends the majority of his time elsewhere, he very kindly allows us to come and stay 2-3 times per year. It’s hard to describe how unique and special this place is to both of us. As kids, Holly would have spent summers here whilst I crab fished not fifty feet away- we even have photos that confirm this!
I took Monday as my rest day to allow for seeing a couple of clients before making the 4+ hour journey in our home on wheels, Nate. It’s tricky to pass through Helford village in the van, so we park half a mile away in a little car park that skirts the village and then walk in. It was dinner time when we arrived, the sun was out and we relished having the place to ourselves for a couple of days, before Hollys parents arrived. It’s so quiet here. Rather than watching t.v, I lay on the day bed looking out on the Helford river. Holly sat in an armchair reading the paper, confirming without shadow of a doubt that we are in fact a couple of old bastards.
The next morning, Lemmy woke us up around 4:45 to ask to go out. He rarely does this, but I took the opportunity to take him out for a walk whilst Holly slept a little longer. We came back for tea in bed, listening to nothing but the water lapping the shore. It’s funny, this isn’t how my life is supposed to play out. For context, I spent years trying to hang on to low paid jobs, working nights, sleeping in my little sisters room whilst she was at school and then renting a tiny room on the weekends on a dodgy estate in Melksham, a single mattress on the floor and wall paper so fucked up it would trigger panic attacks (a side effect from overdosing on hallucinogens). During these times, the single treat I would allow myself each week was a McDonalds breakfast on a Saturday morning after finishing my night shift in Bradford on Avon. At 7am I would catch the bus to Melksham and wait for it’s finest establishment to open. I would then sleep through the day and spend Saturday night sat alone in my room watching dvd’s. On Sunday night at 10pm, work began again. I ‘progressed’ by moving to Bath to work in Marks & Spencer in the cafe and became a bonafide drunk, living in one of those flats that has the kitchen in a cupboard, averaging 2 bottles of wine per day and then much more over the weekend (which always began on a Thursday). When I eventually sobered up and discovered my purpose in life, a council run gym in Trowbridge kindly agreed to take me on and front the earth credits for my training, I had no transport and no money, so I walked to and from the gym, twice per day, seven days per week. On a monthly basis, this worked out to be the equivalent of walking to Inverness (500 miles).The happiest day of my (then) life was at the age of 27 when, for the first time, my bank balance read £0.00 - the first time in my adult life that I wasn’t living in my overdraft.
The point of the above is that I’m not someone who has had everything given to them on a silver platter, but the truth is that I feel guilt any time I talk about how my life has played out. The fact is, I live a very good life. I’m able to travel to the alps once per year for 4-6 weeks on top of other trips away, like running the Three Passes in Nepal last year or coming to the Boathouse twice per year, but I don’t earn a massive wage (far from it). We simply work enough to do what we want to do and live within our means, and importantly, we don’t have any debt. The Alps for 6 weeks in our camper van cost as much as it cost our friends to go for a long weekend in Ibiza. The Boathouse is free. I don’t drink, smoke or buy expensive clothes (Holly only shops in charity shops) or eat at expensive restaurants. We have one vehicle between us. As well as coaching people in person, we have online clients which allows us the freedom to be away from home. We’ve always been drawn to the ‘dirtbag’ (climber) lifestyle, which means a perfect day to us involves waking up in the mountains, running or hiking for hours before returning for coffee and cake. The afternoon is spent reading and the evening could be anything depending on where we’ve parked up for the night. It’s a cheap way to live and I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend my time.
I digress.
The session on Tuesday was: 5x3 mins hard off 2 mins jog recovery followed by 5x3 mins at threshold off 30 sec jog recovery.
The roads were typically Cornish (undulating) but I managed to average out at 3:28 per k on the first 5x3 going out and back on a windy lane. I felt good. The second 5x3 mins was supposed be at threshold working off 30 seconds recovery, but since Holly wanted to complete the second half as a run home in a different direction, I ran by her side. Hr was at 158bpm and honestly, I just loved this run. I feel insanely fit right now (spoken whilst touching a large chunk of wood).
Coming back to a home by the water with no-one else around and no pressure to do anything is about as good as it gets. After a chilled few hours we headed to the Shipwrights Pub for fish & chips and a booze-free Guiness before returning home to close out the day by watching a couple of episodes of the new season of ’Tour de France: Unchained.’
On Wednesday we ran to breakfast at the ‘Fat Apples’. I made the mistake of having quite a large feed beforehand. In fact, I was still burping up oats and banana when we arrived in Porthallow, but couldn’t leave Holly to eat all on her lonesome, so forced down toast and jam, yoghurt and fruit. Holly had ham and eggs which the waitress assumed was for me. Funny how biases like these still exist in todays world, but tbf, normally I would have smashed all the bacon and eggs they could bring me. 11 miles in total for the day.
Thursday was an LT session. 40 mins continuous: 20 mins at 4:05 per k followed by 20 mins at 3:55 per k. Avg HR 158. I don’t even know who I am anymore. It blows my mind to be able to run this fast (for me). I even increased pace during the final 10 minutes, pushing as high as 3:32 (that’s 5:41 per mile) for the final 5 minutes. And I felt good. Really good.
The next day was an easy 10 miles (except it’s Cornwall and ‘easy’ translates to ‘fucking hilly’), followed by a Saturday long run, which was 14 miles and - depending on who’s watch you believe - 600-700m elevation over 2 hours and 14 minutes. Avg HR was 131 but fatigue was huge. It just sucked. I’m not used to running such ridiculous hills. We ran point to point before catching the ferry back to the Boathouse. The life saving moment was finding a coffee van where our run terminated. We picked up a latte and a millionaire shortbread and hopped on to the boat. The rest of the day was spent horizontal. Holly kindly brought me a vimto electrolyte drink (we forgot our awesome electrolytes so diluted vimto squash syrup with water and a teaspoon of salt. Frankly, it was horrible.
Our last day of holiday was 6 miles easy to close out a 100km week. We still have 6 weeks of speed training left before marathon training begins and I can’t wait to see how far I can bring my 5-10k times down before then.