Causeway Coast Triathlon/Quadathlon

 

I always thought that the three elements of the triathlon were distinct and separate, the swim followed by the cycle followed by the run. Well on Saturday I came upon the Causeway Coast Triathlon. I was informed that the competitors would swim two laps of a marked course just off the strand. What I wasn't told was that between each lap the swimmers would exit the water, and run along the beach for a couple of hundred yards before plunging back into the water. Strange that. Well I thought that it was. No doubt afficianadoes of the world of triathlon will now tell me that it is quite usual but the purist in me tells me it isn't quite right. A quadathlon can't be a triathlon? Can it?

 

 

Portrush Parkrun Dismissed.

 

Savouring a rather large tipple of wine in front of the flickering flames of the log burner this pm I contemplated the possibility of wending my way to Portrush tomorrow morning to avail of the joys of its non parkrun Parkrun. How a run on a beach can fall within the deinition of a Parkrun does befuddle the little grey cells somewhat.

 

Anyhows what was the result of my deliberations? Well my decision was made with some ease when I perused the tide tables for Portrush. High tide is to occur at 7.19 with the following low tide at 13.45. Why anyone should willingly want to run through soft sand, unless of course they are one of that besotted subset of individuals who actually enjoy cross country running and want to train for it, is beyond logic and my comprehension.

Tomorrow's exertions will not occur on the tide truncated sands of Portrush.

 

Portrush Parkrun Revisited

I paddled along to Portrush this am to participate in the Parkrun along the resort's East Strand. Bad decision! It is about a year since I ran in this event and it was silly of me to think that the experience would be any better. It wasn't. It was much, much worse.

 

I suppose that I can sort of understand why a Parkrun was established at this location. The scenery is pleasant enough, even in winter and if I had been sitting in a hostelry eighteen months ago with the mellowing affects of several snifters circulating through the bloodstream I might well have nominated this locus for a Parkrun. However on the following day I would have realised the stupidity of the notion. For a one off event fine, but this is not a suitable venue for a regular Saturday run.

You are always going to have a stretch of soft sand to wade through at the start and then again at the end, but of much more relevance are the vagaries presented by the tides. Today the high tide was scheduled for 11-20 am and there was little or no firm running. In an attempt to keep to the best of the running you just had to ignore the advancing tide and splash through it. Several horses had clearly been exercised along the beach in the early morning and the craters left by their hooves posed a definite danger most especially when the tide covered them. Picking ones way along the beach hoping that you are not going to snap an ankle can surely not have any attractions for anyone. It doesn't for me.

I don't doubt the enthusiasm of the organisers and volunteers at this event, but I do question the retention of the particular locus. Certainly keep a Parkrun in Portrush, but move it off the sand.

 

Stormy Run

 

An immature herring gull stood ignoring its adult companion and attempting to ignore the winds which blew in from the churning sea. The steel coloured waves crashed into the rocks and turned into a series of noisy, churning malestroms. Not a day for bird flight and not an appealing day for a coastal run.

Despite the discouraging weather I decided to proceed with my run around the area of Portrush, slightly cheered by the rainbow that appeared on the horizon far out to sea. Maybe I wouldn't get too wet!

 

Initially I ran around Ramore Head. There was no shelter here. The wind buffeted me. It tasted salty. Every few seconds it would ease slightly, causing me to stagger into the momentary vacuum. To my right, next the sea, two posies had been thrust into a crevice in the rocks, a sad reminder of a fisherman torn away by the greedy sea.

 

The West Strand was empty, although there were a few walkers striding along the promenade above the beach. They were all encased in waterproof clothing. Usually when I run past someone a few words of greeting pass between us, but not today. People walked with their heads down, intent on completing their perambulation as soon as possible. These walkers were out to complete a task, not for idle enjoyment.

 

Like the walkers I was anxious to complete my exertions as soon as possible. It was not a day to savour the weather. Reaching the end of the promenade I headed inland, passing under the railway line and made for the East Strand. It also was empty of people. A small flock of sandpipers chased the waves in and out. I turned just before the White Rocks and retraced my strides. I had checked the distance on my Garmin. I now took the most direct route back to my car. It was good to get out of the wind. Lunch beckoned. Eight miles completed.

 

 

 

 

 

Ballymoney Cyclists Wheeling into Portrush.

The rain stopped not long after I had concluded my training run yesterday evening although the sky remained leaden. I decided that I would stay to watch a cycle time trial which was being organised by Ballymoney Cycling Club. The course took in a stretch of the coast road, passing Dunluce Castle and finishing on the eastern outskirts of Portrush.

To my mind the distance being cycled, (9.8 miles), seemed a rather idiosyncratic mileage. Why not ten miles? Even nine miles would have a better ring to it. The start and finish lines didn't seem to have any particular logic to their selection, most especially the start. To the casual observer, ie me, it seemed eminently sensible to have the would be Eddie Merckxs start their efforts a couple of furlongs back from the starting point that had been determined upon. Even using the multiplicand of an Irish Mile couldn't give roundness to the mileage.

Fourteen individuals sped past me as I viewed them from my vantage point. It is hard to judge the speed of a cyclist but I would have thought that the better ones were travelling at more than 25mph as they zipped by me. All but one of the cyclists were remarkably quiet in their efforts. The exception to the rule and what I judged to be the silverback of the competitors punctuated the air with his grunts and groans.

I do enjoy the notion of being able to cycle at speed, but I fear that I will not be purchasing a racing bike and taking to its saddle. I was most definetely closer to fifty than forty when I taught myself to ride a bike and although I can pedal along on my trusty hybrid it is with some degree of trepidation if not quite fear that I approach any protracted decline. I do not have that blind confidence of youth. The thought of coming off a bike whilst travelling at 25 or 30mph and the likely bony injuries that would result from such a tumble causes me to refrain from purchasing a thoroughbred cycle. I must content myself with my cart horse specimen.

 

Portrush in the Rain

Looking towards Portrush and the Skerries - 21st August 2013

Typical summer weather. Mild and wet. That was how I would describe Tuesday's late afternoon weather in Portrush. I had decided to run around this north coast resort for a change of training venue.

There is something somewhat melancholy, but also rather familiar and comforting about a seaside town trying to engender a holiday atmosphere when nature is laughing at its efforts. Frazzled parents were dragging their bored and bedraggled offspring through the mizzle laden air. One child stamped in a puddle. Her siblings were already sodden and didn't object. Close to the harbour two elderly women, perhaps they were sisters, sat on a bench wearing identical plastic macs. A bit of rain wasn't going to spoil their day at the seaside.

Like the children I was rather wet by the time I returned to the car after my hours run. Two optimistic "Mr Whippies," had pulled up not far from where I had parked. No one was queuing at their windows. No one was anxious to purchase their confections which were advertised in garish colours as, "Soft to Eat, Hard to Beat."

A couple of hundred yards away I could see a large marquee. The banner advertisements announced that it contained an ice rink. An appropriate attraction for a small seaside town, in Northern Ireland, in August,in the rain.

 

 

Portrush Parkrun - The Verdict



Portrush East Strand - 15th September 2012

As threatened I did indeed go along to the Portrush Parkrun this morning. Despite my qualms of yesterday the wind was not an issue.

I was surprised at the amount of activity there was at East Strand at ten to nine on a Saturday morning in September. Apart from the expected dog walkers, and some surfers, there was a large group of men playing what was clearly more than an impromptu kickabout. In addition a volleyball net was being erected and six horses were being galloped along the beach. - more of the horses later.

At the inaugural Parkrun the Portrush organisers had managed to get ninety eight people to the line. A high percentage of these were from Springwell AC which is unsurprising, most particularly since their website states that it is they who are, "bringing Parkrun to Portrush." The initial enthusiasm seems to have been particularly short lived however. Numbers today totalled only forty three. Maybe this is only a one week blip. I would hope so for the sake of the volunteer organisers.

The start point for the run was on the prom just outside Troggs Surf School. At half past nine the whistle sounded and the intrepid forty three headed along the prom for approximately two hundred yards before running on to the beach. A stretch of very soft sand followed before you got to the relatively hard sand next the water's edge. There you had to manoeuvre your way through the mini craters created by the hooves of the aforesaid horses. Thankfully there was no equine detritus to contend with and the horses had not continued along the entire strand. The tide had turned perhaps an hour before the run and none of the running could be described as firm. To continue the analogy, perhaps mainly soft to firm and very soft in places would be the best description. The sand certainly dragged at your legs. The turning point was at the White Rocks. With the numbers so low and the standard of the participants so varied the timekeeper had no difficulties at the finish line.

Prom at Portrush East Strand 15th September 2012

Will I be back? Only on a very infrequent basis if at all. Did I enjoy the course? I can't say that I did. It may be a picturesque setting for a training run but it is not a course where you are going to come anywhere close to a pb. As a general rule club runners are, I believe, going to avoid this and most other Parkruns.



Seaward to the Skerries 15th September 2012



Portrush Parkrun

Last Saturday was the first running of the Portrush Parkrun. Parkrun organise free weekly 5k runs at various venues throughout the UK and indeed the world. In the case of Portrush the name is a bit of a misnomer as the run is held on the East Strand ,so hardly a park! These runs do not purport to be high class races. The aim is to promote running as a way of exercising. A total of ninety eight individuals turned up last Saturday with the fastest time being 18.38 and the, "rouge lantern," stopping the clock at over 58 mins. As well as getting an accurate time the participants also get an age graded result so the oldies can compare their times with those of the young bucks.

I think that I might paddle along to the East Strand tomorrow and check the run out. I might even decide to participate if the tide is out and the going firm. Lack of shelter could be a major problem as it  is an out and in course. That could well be the factor determining whether I pull on the racing shoes.