It's a Cat's Life

8am and I was sat on my bike attached to the turbo trainer in trepidation for what lay ahead. I was doing a 'brick' session, a triathlon term for a training session which involves two disciplines back-to-back. The aim was to do a 40km bike followed by a circa half-marathon at just below race pace. Confidence is everything for me and this is the type of effort that gives me confidence.

20 minutes in and sweat was dripping in my eyes. In the depths of winter when it's been well below zero I've still managed to overheat. Ian and Andrea's wee cat sat looking at me through the open back door.......you know.....the slightly disdainful look that only cats and Bullingdon Club members can give. I pursed my lips, made a funny cat frightening noise and the moggie rapidly disappeared through it's flap. Before you say I'm cruel, the thing shits in my lovage bush so doesn't deserve empathy.

50 minutes in and my next door neighbour Ed appeared. "Morning Andy" he said cheerfully. All I could manage was a slight sideway smile. He gave me a not too dissimilar look to that of the cat but more caring. Empathy is difficult when you believe that what someone is doing is sheer madness! I suppose sitting on a bike, pedalling like crazy, sweating like Jabba the Hut in a sauna but going no where could be considered lunacy.

After just over an hour, I jumped off my bike, slipped my trainers on, attached my 'nutrition' belt, locked the back door and headed out. The light rain was a relief but the opening hill was not. I got a dried fig out, bit into it and somehow squeaked the enamel on my teeth.....eurghh.... What a horrible feeling. I soon settled into a steady pace, listening to the voice of coach Scott from 15 years ago.......if it feels easy now, slow down a little as that pace will feel horrible soon enough.

I headed through the back of Glossop towards the Woodhead Road...... all uphill and then onto Cemetery Road, then took a sharp right down a steep hill into Padfield. This is the village where my new favourite product is gathered, Padfield Honey. This stuff has magical properties and tastes like nothing you'll ever get in a supermarket. I needed such properties as downhill running takes more out of the legs than heading up!

Fortunately, I was now on the Longdendale Trail, a disused railway track which is quite forgiving on the pins! The initial plan was to go all the way to the Woodhead Tunnel but I had now ran 12km. I took the first turn, a plummeting descent to the Rhodeswood Reservoir and across the dividing wall with the Torside Reservoir. My hat nearly blew off with the wind being funnelled through the valley. It was hard going now but I was still enjoying myself, just concentrating on keeping my pace steady.

Hard became tough.....as the only way out of Hadfield is upwards and my legs (and arms) started to object. Magic poles time (a psychologist would call this visualisation), a strategy Rosemary and I developed for running upwards. When we do it together, great hilarity and racing results. I found myself racing an imaginary partner using magic poles and laughing out loud whilst encrusted in salty sweat. Maybe the cat had a point.

The GPS peeped and I had managed a hilly half-marathon in under 2 hours and then did my fasted km of the day (down a big hill). Every step hurt.....fatigued joints and neuromuscular stuff prevented me going faster. The final kick uphill into the village was horrible, with me saying "I will not walk, I will not walk" out loud!

I got to my street and lay down on the pavement and shut my eyes. Getting up again was slightly more problematic but I was cheered to see the cat sitting by my back door looking slightly less smug.