The all new training diary.

[Bierzo Baggie]

I’ve paid my 36 euros to take part in Picos and now it’s less than 5 weeks away. Always leave these things to the last minute as there’s always the possibility that I won’t be able to go for some reason or other. It looks like I’ll be doing this one though

In the days before marriage, fatherhood and runningcommentary.net I used go walking or mountain biking more and for longer. The Gistredo mountains north of the town of Bembibre were a favourite haunt. My current-day escapades are now of the blitzkrieg variety and this area is suitably accessible and an excellent alternative to the Aquilianos. The gradients are steep and long enough for it compare favourably with Picos as a training ground.

A 45 minute drive early on Sunday morning took me to Colinas del Campo de Martin Moro Toledano, a very long name for a very small village. Colinas is a pleasant, well tended place which smells of wood burning stoves and dampness. It lies sheltered in the shadowy chill of a tight valley where the river Susano flows, swollen and angry after a rainier than usual month of May. The plan was to leave the valley after a couple of kilometres and climb steeply to a ridge at about 2000m which gives access to the peak of Catoute. This is the highest in El Bierzo, a “proper” mountain, inaccessible for motor vehicles and with a nice, pointy top. Then, I’d turn around and come back down again as fast and as carefully as possible.

But there were just too many distractions. When I did finally get into a downhill running groove, the manic dance steps and more importantly the massive concentration levels necessary to descend safely and elegantly soon became unbearable.

One interesting distraction was a cute littlefire salamander who posed for me on a rock. I guess he was just relieved I didn’t step on him. I’ve seen this handsome beastie a few times before always in the vicinity of mountain streams. Unfortunately the photo came out a bit blurred.

Then, whilst slipping and sliding my way through an inundated alpine meadow I noticed some strange species of mushroom growing out of the cowpats. They were all over the place. I wonder if this is what ends up in those chicken and mushroom pies. It was a pity my good friend Miguel Mushroom wasn’t around to identify this none too fussy fungi.

Such encounters with fire salamanders and shit dwelling mushrooms probably explain why I will never become even a half decent mountain runner.

At the top of Catoute it was misty, cold and gently coated with recent snow just like a mountain should be. Here I was especially careful as I wasn’t wearing boots but the late spring snow was soft, crunchy and safe.

The descent was great. I’ve never particularly enjoyed descents but I think I’ve gained confidence this year and my ankles seem stronger. I hope I’m not tempting fate.

Got back to the car by 11:30. It had taken two hours going up and an hour and a half going down of which half an hour had been used up farting around, taking photos and looking for the right path in the snow. I was walking most of the time but where it was safe to do so I made up time by running or run-walking. The height gain had been about 1000m. At Picos I’ll have to do this five times which is a bit daunting

These Sunday morning jaunts form the bulk of my training. I’m concentrating on walking quickly and on nimble descents but my staple diet of a couple of midweek runs hasn’t changed so the running mileage remains pretty low. I hope its going to be enough to get me around