Of knock knees and beautiful bling

It was the first Sunday of the half term break.  This was a break that I had been looking forward to for what seemed like a millennium.  I was so tired  towards the end of  the half term that the temptation to fall asleep while standing up in front of a class was hard to resist.  So why was the alarm ringing at 4.30am on a Sunday?  Because I had decided that I'd rather sleep in my own bed than travel down and stay in a B&B.  It didn't seem like such a good idea as Husbando and I blearily got ourselves organised and into the car and, picking up friends on the way, set off towards Dorchester.  

We'd all pretty much decided that we needed a McDonalds breakfast an a coffee for breakfast, and we knew exactly where we would stop.  The disappointment we felt when the McDs at Ferndown was closed for renovations was huge.  How could this be?  Did they not know we were depending on them? How would we manage now? We were starving!  Husbando had taken the car to be valeted the day before, so there wasn't even the chance of finding a lost chocolate bar or packet of crushed mini cheddars under one of the seats.  There was nothing for it but to head on into the wilds of Dorset and hope that there would be food available somewhere! 

Our detour to the (closed) McD's had cost us a few minutes. Minutes that meant that we arrived on the outskirts of Dorchester just after 7am.... which was the time that all the road closures kicked in and we were told that the signs had 'been up all week' and that 'closed means closed.'  After a couple of false starts, a look at the map and the race instructions, we decided that the only way to get to the race start was to just drive through the road closure signs - much to the annoyance of the people setting it up!  Luckily we had plenty of time - I do hate cutting things fine!

We arrived at the 'Athlete's Village', parked the car, faffed about a bit, grabbed a coffee and, thank goodness, a bacon roll!  As is normal at a White Star Running event, there were lots of familiar faces to greet and chat to, we picked up out yellow ribbons to wear as a mark of respect to all those affected by the events in Manchester last week  and pretty soon it was time for the two of us running the marathon to say goodbye to our other halves (aka, throw our hoodies at them for them to stow in the car) and head to the start line.  

Standing near the back of the 700+ strong field of runners, I have to admit I didn't hear a word of Andy's run briefing, but the Town Crier, in full costume, stood on a cherry picker and sent us off with a rousing speech.  My plan was... well I really don't know what it was.  Suck it an see?  The weather was hot and humid, but overcast at the start and for the first 5 or 6 miles I was having a great time.  It was very pretty, lovely villages (mostly with a name that included 'piddle' or 'puddle' but 'Tincleton' was my favourite name), gentle undulations and great scenery! I began to think I would be on for a reasonable time.  But then my knee went wonky.  It had been a bit 'owy' on the previous day, but I'd put that down to pre-marathon jitters.  Suddenly my right knee felt as though it wanted to bend the wrong way.   Should I stop?  Probably.  Did I stop?  Well, what do you think?

I decided to run until I got to 13 miles and then run/walk the rest of the way.  I saw a few familiar faces as I plodded around.  I played leapfrog with several runners, especially when I was running 9mins walking then walking a minute, but soon people weren't catching me up anymore even when I was walking - even though I stopped to chat at every aid station and the love station.  Lord Badger got upset because I 'molested' him (his words for a big sweaty hug) and didn't hang around for a badge!  To be honest it almost hurt my knee more to walk than to run, but my hamstring was tightening up (to support my knee) when I was running! In fact, the whole right side of my body was tensing up so much that even my hand was aching!  

At 23 miles there came a totally unnecessary and rather rude hill.  It was about a mile long.  Not overly steep, and really quite runnable in normal conditions.   But I felt as though the right hand side of my body was ever so slightly broken and did I mention it was hot?  Very hot, sunny and unpleasantly humid.  At this point I fell into step with some other runners who had decided not to run up the hill - so it seemed rude to run when they were walking.   The 24 mile marker (yes, mile marker at a WSR event!) was a very welcome site.  I knew that I was suffering but that 'no more than 4 more miles' was more than achievable!  I refused to be lulled into a false sense of security by believing that this would be a traditional marathon distance, but low and behold, as I ran downhill and past the 26 mile marker I could see (and hear!) the finish. I overtook a few people who had been just ahead of me for most of the race, and then had to really push it to the finish to make sure they didn't come back past me, the finish was great - the last 100m was lined with supporters.  Someone called out my name (or rather a variant of it that was used on the parkrun show - I didn't see who it was, but thank you!  And Husbando was sitting on a wall by the gate to the finish area to see me home.  I picked up the pace and lengthened my stride (my last .3 of a mile was sub 8min/mile pace) and threw my aching body over the finish line.  The WSR team gave me my rather super medal and lovely t-shirt and I hobbled back to meet my friends.  My time was 'Ok - considering.'  Husbando had run the half marathon and had an awful race.  He'd hurt his knee 4 weeks earlier, and decided to switch from the full to the half for his reason.  He'd run the first 6.5 miles in 44 minutes, and then taken 1hr45 mins to complete the rest - his knee just locked up totally.  To counter this our little group also had a massive PB - a time of 3hrs51mins which was also his first sub 4hr marathon. 

All in all it was a excellent race, well organises, great race village, awesome aid station and wonderful route.  Can we do it all again next year please?

Larmer Tree Marathon

Today was a lesson in respecting the marathon distance.  I may have run a few now, but there is no place for becoming complacent about what is, by any stretch of the imagination, quite a long way to run.  I've had a few tough runs recently, culminating in the aptly named 'Plod' two weeks ago, but I was quite excited about today.  As excited as you can be when you are exhausted and overworked and still trying to sort out the house you moved into a few weeks ago.

I'd run the 20 mile race at Larmer Three Gardens last year.  And while I was running that I seem to remember thinking that it was silly to run 20 miles when there was a 26 mile option available, so that is what I signed up for, fool that I am.  The weather forecast was not promising, so we arrived with loads of layers, waterproofs. hats etc.  Numbers were collected.  Mine was so wrong it was almost right.

It is quite a long time since the last White Star Running event down in Bovington, so it was lovely to see all the regular characters.  We chatted away as we waited for the start.  I was on the look out for peacocks, while at the same time realising that the peacock leggings I was wearing were not the same, very comfortable, Tikiboo pair that I wore last year.  I have no idea where they were from, but they will not be worn again.  One of the many things you are told when you start training for marathons is that you should not wear something during a marathon that you have not road tested for a good few miles beforehand.  This oversight would come to bite me on the bum a few miles into the run.

The start was lovely, apart from the weather!  Damp and drizzly.  It was down hill and on tarmac, this was going to be ok.  I got to the first water station at about 6 miles feeling relatively confident and making fairly good time.  Within 2 miles that had all changed.  It was tough going, but not unrunable at this stage, the ground was either very slippery or very sticky.  At times it was like running over a huge tube of Prit Stick, it took lots of effort to even life feet off the ground.

By 8 miles I was walking along a totally flat path, sobbing.  Really sobbing, and just feeling a huge sense of despair.  And that was before I saw The Hill.  At least this was a reason to walk!  Or stagger...  From then on I think I did more walking than running.  To be fair, there were loads and loads of people walking.  It was hard to motivate myself to run when there were so many people walking all around me.  I had blisters on my insoles, from trainers that have never rubbed before and chaffing where no one ever wants chaffing from the evil leggings, which only added to my misery!  I chatted with lots of lovely people, who made the whole day bearable - bizarre conversations about conspiracy theories not withstanding.

The route was varied, we ran though pretty villages, lovely woods and across fields with stunning views, the marshals and aid stations were supportive and enthusiastic.  The Love Station was fantastic as always - a much needed hug and dose of MTFU was administered here, along with handfuls of mini sausages, pretzels and jelly babies!  From here it was 'just' 6 long miles to the finish.  One hair raising descent and a long slog uphill were involved, but the end was in sight.. almost.  The trademark '400ish yards to go' sign came and went and all that was left was a nasty gravelly path, past a folly to the finish.  I managed to overtake a fair few people as my desperation to get this ordeal over and done with manifested itself.  I crossed the line and was given a medal and a hug, by one of the regular WSR team.  She has been at every event I have done, and always greets me with a smile and a hug- I really wish I knew her name!

After sitting down on a conveniently placed chair and getting my breath back, I went to get my lunch (included in the entry price) while the three of us who had travelled down together reassembled and rehydrated before the journey home.

Thank you to the team from WSR for an excellently organised event.  I promise to be in a better mood next time...

Bovington marathon

Signing up for a marathon in December seems such a good idea in June or July.  The weather is sunny (ish) and dry (ish) and it seems incomprehensible that you could ever need long running tights and gloves while running.  But I had signed up for yet another marathon.   This latest offering from White Star Running was a bit different, the location was on and around the tank ranges at Bovington with a medal that celebrates the 100th anniversary of the tank.

Last Sunday was freezing cold, and I was beginning to panic about a long, cold marathon, yesterday was mild but it rained all day and I began to worry about over 5 hours of running in the rain.  I was not filled with joy at the thought of leaving the house at 6am to drive down to the Tank Museum at Bovington - I was hugely grateful to be given a lift so all I had to do was relax and enjoy the ride, in the fog.

We arrived in good time, even after a McDonald's stop for coffee and loos, we parked the car within about 20 metres of the start, and went to use the loos in the restaurant of the Tank Museum (which looks awesome and well worth a visit) before returning to the start for the race briefing.   There can't be many race briefings where you are told, 'If you see something that looks like a grenade don't pick it up because there is a good chance it is a grenade!'

A little bit of mud to squelch through

And then we were off.  I decided to run with the guys I'd travelled down with.  This running races with another person is quite a novelty for me and I have to say that the miles fairly flew by!  The first few were flat and not too wet - just one river to wade through - or avoid by queuing to go over the rickety bridge.  After that it got a bit bumpy, nothing too steep (although some of the downhills were a little precarious) with all sorts of different surfaces under foot from concrete (not much of this at all) through woodland floors deep in in pine needles and fallen leaves to mud.  Lots of mud.  And puddles.  We christened one area the Lake District as the puddles were so huge and numerous.  We were having lots of fun.  The aid stations were well positioned but, with the notable exception of the Lovestation (more on that later) I didn't think they were quite up to the usual White Star Running standard.  At about 16 miles (I think) we ran down a hill, each of us commenting that we were feeling a bit peckish.  Our spirits listed when we saw an aid station... and mine fell again when I realised that the only food had nuts in.    This was when I regretted my decision not to carry any snacks with me.

The right stuff?

At some point someone had moved one of the signs, which resulted in us taking a little detour.  This meant that we got to meet a load of the half marathon runners who told us we were on the wrong track so we retraced our steps and found the correct route. We ran past Monkey World - and saw monkeys playing on their climbing frame.  They weren't impressed with us disturbing their peaceful morning and shouted us.  We responded by a rousing chorus of 'King of the swingers!'

At 20 miles crossed a road and I heard my name being called out and looked up to see a friend with his camera!  He also had Haribos - what a legend!  20 miles in a WSR event means that you are at the Lovestation - plenty of food, drink and banter, I was famished - I stuffed my face and grabbed a handful of pretzels to take with me and we set off for the last 6 and a bit miles.

Quite a bit of this last section was the same as the bit of the first few miles, but in reverse.  It took in the deep river we'd crossed.  I decided that, as my feet were still fairly dry, I'd take the rickety bridge. It was considerably more rickety and my 2 running partners opted to run through the middle of the water.  They told me that it was 'refreshing' and 'just what they needed' to wash the mud out of their shoes.  I was not convinced.  And I soon discovered that they were fibbing!  We had 4 (or was it 5 or 6) more river crossings - and these did not have bridges.  The water was really cold and deep!

Our conservative pace meant that we were still trotting along really happily, overtaking lots of people who were beginning to flag, and we still felt strong.  Based on prior knowledge of the 'ish' nature of the length of a WSR marathon we got to 25 miles and were debating how much further we might have to run.  We saw the '400m to go' sign (which has a history of being fairly randomly placed in the last mile of a race) and still did not really think that we could be near the end, as that would make it a marathon length marathon!  But, along the path we went, crossed a road and there was the Tank Museum and the finish flags.  It really was the finish line!

Bling-tastic!

We crossed the line together - passing two lovely tanks, to be presented with our fabulous medals and goodie bags (great new buff and a bottle of beer) and to have celebratory photos taken!    An utterly fabulous day out - fun and smiles all the way!

Thank you guys for the company (and the lift). https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/MrsBridgewater1

Hills, medals, cakes, hills and bells... oh and more hills!

This is the race I said I'd never do again.  It was the first trail marathon I had ever run and I swore it would be my last.  So why was I back in Sidling St Nicholas?  Because I seem to be suffering a case of runner's amnesia!  I travelled down with my running partner in crime from last year and Husbando.    Husbando had been swayed by the promise of a nice B&B and I had neglected to mention that he would be in a village with virtually no mobile phone coverage and no wifi.

Friday night traffic meant we just made it to the village hall in time for our pre-ordered meals cooked by the lovely ladies from the WI .  One of the ladies came over and chatted to us - she remembered us from last year - and told us that she and her husband would be out on the course to support us in the morning.  We collected our numbers, had a look at the finish area and checked into our B&B at The Grey Hound pub, drank some beer, ate some chips and went to bed.   We were all of 2 minutes' walk from the race HQ, so popping out for a WI breakfast and back for a last minute wee before the race the next morning meant that we could avoid the dreaded portaloos! Husbando had entered the Sydling Hill Run rather than the marathon, so he came down with us to the start and took our jumpers back to the room.  After a race brief we all gathered on the race began.  

I had no real 'plan' for this race. I was still tired from Endure 24, and my legs had felt heavy and sluggish on every run I had done since then.  But, at Giant's Head it really isn't about the time.  No one is going to use this race to get a good for age place in the London Marathon.  As with last year we were all walking within the first mile - that concrete hill has not got any easier!   

The hills were, as always, hugely challenging.  This year however the ground underfoot seemed even more challenging.  We've had more rain this year which meant that the vegetation was much more rampant.  The long grass sapped energy, nettles and brambles attacked bare legs and the stoney paths were ankle twistingly treacherous.  But it was such fun!  As someone who hates meeting new people, it always amazes me how happily I will chat to total strangers when out running.  Between chatting with other runners, looking down to check that my foot wasn't about to go down a rabbit hole the miles ticked by.  We ran past the Cerne Abbas Giant, and I stopped for a few seconds to chat with a friend who had come along to take photos.  We were 8 miles in and, although it was tough, I was feeling good.  I was running the downhill sections and the (very few) flat sections and using the hills as walk breaks.  It was humid and warm, but there was the odd cool breeze to cool us down.  The aid stations were plentiful, well stocked and the marshals running them were so friendly and encouraging.  

Even though I had run the race last year, there were vast sections that I just did not remember having seen before.  There was far more road than I remembered.  It was predominantly downhill which was a blessing, but very hard on the knees in trail shoes.  Some of the off road downhill sections were too steep for me to run down with anything like my normal enthusiasm for a downhill!  Soon my knees were complaining big time, and I began looking forward to hills so that I could walk for a while.  All around me people were adopting the same strategy so I didn't feel bad about it, and by the later stages of the race I would not have been able to run the hills even if I'd wanted to! The views from the tops of the hills were amazing - when I remembered to lift my eyes from the 6' in front of me to have a look.  

The World Famous Love Station was a sight for sore eyes - a chance to have a laugh and a joke, some cider or prosecco as well as the normal aid station fare of coke, squash, water, cake, crisps, sausages, jelly babies and water melon.  The Love Station also meant that we were almost, nearly, there.  Except I could not remember how long the race was.  Yes, I know it was a marathon, but this was a White Star Running marathon, and they do like to make sure you get value for money.  Was it 27 miles or 28?  I had no idea.  I looked at my watch and tried to work out whether I could beat my time from last year or not.  I tried to remember how many hills we had to go - couldn't remember that either!  I chatted with another runner who had run a similar time to me last year - he though that we could do it easily, I wasn't so sure.  

We got an incentive to run faster soon though.  The black, threatening clouds decided to dump their contents on us.  We were running up a slight incline on and exposed ridge.  The wind was blowing and the rain and hail were coming at us sideways.  It hurt when the rain hit my bare skin and rain and hail in my ear was deeply unpleasant!  We got to the last aid station (the one at 26.4 miles!) and they were hanging on to the frame of the gazebo to stop it blowing away!  We played an impromptu game of sardines as we tried to work out how many runners, marshals and food tables we could fit in one small gazebo.  The rain didn't look like it was going to stop and I was getting cold - because I was soaked to the skin and it was very windy - so I decided to plough on.  Just a downhill and an uphill and then another downhill to go.  The rain was very localised and reasonably short lived, other runners had no idea that there had been rain at all!

Running into the village and onto the green makes for one of the nicest race finishes ever!  So many people cheering the finishers over the line where we were all presented with our medals, t-shirts and buffs.  I crossed the line in 5hrs and 26 minutes - a 13 minute improvement on last year.  I was thrilled! Husbando was waiting for me - and bought me a small ice cream.  I am glad he didn't go for a medium or large as I think it may well have been bigger than me!  While I'd been running he had done the Sydling Hill Run, marketed as 10-ish km, and had come 11th so he was very pleased with himself.  I think he may even consider doing the marathon next year.   We cheered finishers home for a while before popping back to the pub to grab a shower.  We still managed to get back to the finish area to cheer the very excellent 'sweeper' over the line.  It is a measure of how tough this race is that there was only 1 person who finished in under 4 hours (and I think he only just got under the 4 hour mark).  I remember feeling a bit disappointed with my time last year, but this year I was very happy.

The evening was great fun.  Although drinking three and a half pints of beer after a marathon but before eating anything is probably not the most sensible idea I've ever had!  We ate chilli and rhubarb crumble prepared by the WI, chatted with friends, met new people and drank some more.  Some people did dancing - but I wasn't quite tipsy enough for that!  We had a slight Epipen emergency on the way back to our room.  Not mine, but I recognise an Epipen from about 50 paces and saw a young man at the side of the road with one.  Ambulances take a long time to get to rural Dorset villages - but eventually it got there and I hope he is now OK!  

After a good night's sleep we got up and into our running kit (clean set) again for yet another race.  This one was a short one though.  The Sydling Bell Race was organised to raise money for the village church - a really lovely way to say thank you to the people on the village.  It had a 'Le Mans start' in that we were separated from our running shoes so had to dash to find them as soon as the race started.  We then ran up to the top of a hill, did a task (in my case star jumps and push ups) claimed our cow bell medal  and ran back down the hill to the finish.  Reader, I will be honest - I did not run the whole way!  It may only have been 2.5 miles, but there was no way I was running up the steep bits of the hill!  It took me 27 minutes from the start (including finding my shoes and queueing for my task) and I was quite happy with that!  

It was an amazing running weekend!  I really do feel as though I've had a little holiday away from the real world.  I can't thank Andy from White Star Running and his band of helpers enough for everything that they did to make it such a success.   I just hope I get to do it all again next year.  And if I do, I must try to remember that the marathon is 27.2 miles long!

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My nose ran well!

I can't remember why I entered the Larmer Tree Races.  I mean, the guys at White Star Running are all thoroughly good eggs but, and this should not have escaped your notice if you have been reading my blog for a while, I do not like trail races, I am not a huge fan of hills and these are what White Star Running do brilliantly.  However it happened, possibly due to alcohol, I found I had entered the half marathon.  I had heard tales of 'stunning views' and 'awesome bling' that featured peacocks - so maybe these were also factors.  I told myself that a half marathon would be grand.  And then I looked at my training plan.  I was supposed to be running 20-22 miles today.  I knew that there was no way I would run an additional 7+miles on my own, so I emailed and asked if I could change races, hoping for a negative answer.  Of course they said yes!

After a week that involved Ofsted and me catching a cold from one or more of the sniffly boys at school - not good to be sneezing when one's cracked and dislocated ribs have not fully healed - my friend (still sensibly signed up for the half) and I got up at sparrow fart for a journey down to Larmer Tree Gardens near Tollard Royal in Wiltshire.  It was a foggy drive, but the mist was just clearing when we parked our car, collected our numbers and found the port-a-loos.  We met people we knew and waved off the people running the marathon, dithered about how many layers to wear, wondered if there was time for another trip to the loo (there wasn't!) and then it was my turn.   

Me in purple top and tasteful peacock print tights! Photo by CW

As we listened to the pre-race brief (basically don't be an idiot and follow the signs) the fog rolled back in and the temperature dropped by about 10 degrees Celcius, I was very glad of my extra layer and gloves - so what if no one could see my race number!  The first mile or two felt as though it was all down hill - which was rather worrying as we'd have to get back up them at the end of the run.  It was hard going underfoot - sort of hard packed gravel that punishes feet through trail shoes.  Never mind, we were going DOWNHILL, downhill is nice!  And then we saw a little hill...

I had decided that I would take this race easily, and just as well really.  The only thing that was running well was my nose, and there was no way I was going to try to run up that hill!  I decided that hills would be renamed as 'walking breaks!'  I don't think I saw anyone run up the more extreme hills, so I didn't feel too guilty!  The views from the top of the hills were amazing if slightly misty in the first part of the race. A big thank you to KE who took the pictures - I didn't have a camera with me, which is probably just as well as I'd still he out there clicking away!

 At the top of the hill a voice said 'A bit steeper than Tennis Court Hill' so I knew the owner was a Basingstoke parkrun regular - once again my parlous memory for faces and names had me at a disadvantage, after we'd been chatting for about a mile I began to introduce myself - he said 'I know exactly who you are!'  We bimbled along chatting companionably for about 5 miles, but I sensed that M probably wanted to go a bit faster than I was running, and knew that I would try to keep up with him and pay for it later.  So I decided to take advantage of a huge pile of felled tree trunks in order to answer a call of nature and M ran on.

This wasn't the best place to stop and then attempt to start again.  It was on a long, straight, uphill slope.  It seemed as though I could see straight ahead for a mile or more.  I plodded on.   At the 10 and a bit mile aid station I was told that I was the first 'peacock person' to pass them - so I am taking that as a minor victory as by this time the marathon runners had rejoined us.  At around 12 miles (for us) the half marathon runners joined our route (5 miles in for them) and I started chatting with a one legged runner.  I commented that I was amazed that he could balance on one leg and a blade when I struggled to say upright on 2 legs…. and with impeccable timing I face planted in the mud!  That isn't pleasant at the best of times, but it really does jar damaged ribs!

The last miles were tough.  I was in a lot of pain, but I was buoyed up by the encouragement of fellow runners.  One lady, K, and I played cat and mouse for miles and she was struggling too - cramps in her quads were causing her some distress.  I nagged her a bit when I overtook her standing by the side of the path - threatened to massage her quads for her if she didn't get a move on and stopped to encourage her to keep going!  We were at 18.6  miles so, in theory we had less than a mile and a half to go.  At 20 miles in, having run with her for a while, and with the end nowhere in site, we decided to walk up the last hill.  We are both doing Paris next month, she has a considerably better marathon PB than me, but we will both be in the same starting pen - so might just see each other there!

We got to a corner and started running, I had a little more left in my legs than I thought, and pushed towards the finish - on that nasty gravel path - past a very modern folly, through crowds of people cheering, in beautiful sunshine.  What a way to spend a Sunday!  Crossing the line is always a relief though.  I was handed my medal (gorgeous) and a food voucher and then stood around in a daze wondering what to do next!  K crossed the line so I went to see how she was - good, but not great - so I pointed her in the direction of the free massage tent.  I saw her, and her mother a bit later, lovely ladies both of them!  I saw some runners from Chineham Park Running Club - including my new friend M - who gave me a huge hug and a kiss.

I've only run one other White Star Running event - the Giant's Head Marathon - and I was impressed there by the atmosphere before and after the race.  This was no different - I would have loved to stay around and watch all the other runners finish while sitting in the sunshine, but I had to get back to plan lessons for the week ahead.  I commented to a couple of people that this 20 mile race (20.9 by my watch - but that is the joy of a White Star event - you always get more than you pay for) felt much tougher than the Giant's Head, I think that was down to my damaged thorax and rotten cold!

Edited - Am I the only person on the planet who has a totally logical phobia about eating off wooden implements?  Why on Earth would anyone want to put a wooden spoon or fork into their mouth?  It feels revolting… even sitting here writing about it makes my flesh crawl!  Today I almost had a melt down as there was no alternative to a wooden fork.  I managed to eat my macaroni cheese by scooping it up with a slice of garlic bread - but I must remember to pack a spork in my race bag!

That is the last long run before Paris at the beginning of April.  Now I need to cut down the mileage and concentrate on getting over colds and rib damage.  Once again I have managed to time my taper to coincide with a school holiday…. all that lovely free time that cannot be used to run!

Giants Head Marathon

Anyone who has known me for more than five minutes will know that trail running and I do not get on.  I have a knack for finding every rabbit hole and sticking my foot down them with disastrous consequences.  It is still something of a mystery to me that I entered an off road marathon and not just any off road marathon but one that has been described by friends as 'tortuous!'  But I had entered the Giants Head Marathon and so found myself driving down to Dorset on Friday with a friend.  We had decided against camping in the race village because a) I am too old and soft and b) I had spent Friday on a sponsored walk with 800 teenagers and was in desperate need of a shower, but we made our way to the race HQ to pick up numbers and join the pasta and jacket potato party and partake of a couple of Dorset Knobs.   For a while it looked as though I may have escaped the upcoming ordeal as there was no race number for me.  Sadly all I needed to do was show proof that I had paid my entry fee and they made up another number.

Due to a certain music festival  and my belated decision not to camp, getting a hotel room was neither easy nor cheap.   We ended up in a Travelodge near Yeovil so our race day planning had to factor in the 30 minute drive back to Sydling St Nicholas.  Arriving in the village we parked the car and made our way to the start area where I bumped into a friend I haven't seen for over a year and several other running friends, including the wonderful lady acting as sweeper for the day - she had a witch's broom with her.

After the safely briefing, during which we were reminded that this is a tough race but that it was a running event and that it was possible to walk the event before the cut off time, there was a brief interlude where a marriage proposal was made and accepted - in fancy dress naturally!

The moment of truth - we were off.  And then, within the first mile, we were walking.  There may have been one or two people who ran up that first hill, but I didn't see them.  I got about halfway up before I realised that my 'run' was barely any faster than the walkers around me and was using far more energy!  The second mile was lovely.  A gentle decent on reasonably even pathways (passed the naked farmer ringing his bell) that lulled me into a false sense of security.  I could put up with the vicious uphills if the payback was runnable downhill sections.  That was not to be.  And if I am totally honest, by 5 miles in I was ready to give up.  Brutal up hills followed by downhill sections so steep, and with conditions underfoot so unstable, that I found it impossible to do much more than mince gingerly down them!  I'm really bad at giving up though, so on I went.  The day was enlivened by the great company and the awesome aid stations.   It is quite possible that I put on weight as the food on offer at each station was so tempting.  Salt and vinegar crisps and watermelon slices are my new favourite race food.  I was very glad of the excellent provisions as I had forgotten to eat my second breakfast prior to the start!

The aid stations were either totally bereft of runners, in which case it would have been churlish to just grab and run rather than chatting with the lovely volunteers, or totally crowded with hungry runners, so a prolonged stop was in order to queue up, have a moan and/or a laugh about the insanity of what we were doing.  Either way, there were a fantastic boost both in terms of nutrition and morale.

At around 8 miles a sign told up to 'Look right to see a 35 foot phallus' - that's not an offer a girl gets every day!  There were other points where a sign told us to 'Turn around and look at the view' (*) - the views were amazing.  The countryside just goes on and on and on.  But a lot of the time saw me with my head down watching where I was putting my feet!  I was determined not to injure myself as I wanted to be able to dance at a party my friends were having that evening!  Dorset rural is a lot more rural than Hampshire rural and I found the unevenness of the paths and the camber very hard to cope with.  In retrospect road shoes may have been a better choice than trail as they would have cushioned my feet more against jagged stones (of which there were plenty - more later!) Through one section a machete would have been handy - I have a lovely collection of scratches on my arms and nettle rash on my legs from that part, but at least it was flat so that was something!   Although, having said that, it did get to the stage where I'd look forward to an uphill so that I could walk for a while.

(* We also had signs telling us to 'Hurry up FFS,' 'Don't sweat on the flora and fauna,' and 'Run faster you fools!')

At the ante-penultimate aid station I bumped into a lovely friend I made while on a Chemistry course at the University of Southampton.  We ran together to just beyond the penultimate aid station - we actually ran the whole way with out having to walk up a hill or slow down for a killer downhill section!  We can't have been running terribly fast as we were chatting 19 to the dozen but it was probably my favourite section of the race.  We parted company soon after that and I pootled along on my own, chatting with other people as we walked/ran/hobbled and cursed!  The social side of this race made it just about bearable.   I had a lovely chat with an agnostic RE teacher from Taunton, caught up with a member of the 100 marathon club  I'd run with at the National 50/100k championships and Kent Roadrunner amongst other conversations with people who I'd never met before!

At 24 miles came this:

Each of those bits of stone is about 4-5" in diameter - they made up the path for at least a fifth of a mile.  Avoiding them would have involved battling through thistles that came up to my head - so I did what everyone else seemed to be doing - walking gingerly across this treacherous surface.  People complain about cobbles in Paris…. this was a whole different league, tired legs found it hard to walk on them, let alone run.

At 26.02 miles (by my Garmin which I know isn't the most accurate way of measuring distance) came the final aid station.  'How much further?' I asked, while stuffing my face with watermelon.  "3/4 of a mile all downhill," I was told.  I took this with a pinch of salt and although there was only a tiny hill left there was another mile to run.  

A 'FINISH' arch has never been more welcome.  The finish was on the village green and was the loveliest finish I have ever seen.  Helped by the glorious (sun burn inducing) weather which saw finishers and their families relaxing on the grass, there was a really summer fete atmosphere.  I slight downhill to the finish enabled me, I hope, to appear as though I am actually a runner as I threw myself through the finishing arch.  I did nearly knock over one of the volunteers handing out medals - but he was very gracious about that!  I was given a lovely buff by an adorable little girl.  Buffs are always useful and this one is certainly distinctive! Oh, and a tech t shirt with that fabulous image on the back!  I collapsed onto the grass to wait for my friends to finish.  

The ice cream van was doing a roaring trade so I joined the queue just after putting my name on the list for a free massage.  99's came in small, medium and large - we went for 'small' having seen the size of the enormous medium.  Even after running a marathon I would have struggled to eat that much ice cream!  It took us so long to eat the small ones that we missed our place in the massage queue and had to let people go in front of us. 

After the race it was a mad dash back home as I had a party to go to in the evening.  I hadn't realised quite how far away we were going to be when I said that I'd be back in time.  We had a brief stop on en route as the idea of chips was all consuming and we talked ourselves into a sneaky McDonalds that no one need ever know about and I arrived home with half an hour to spare before leaving for the party.  

I made it - just!  If ever there is a time to be grateful for not wearing make up it is in this sort of time pressured situation.  A shower, thrown on a dress, put on high heels and I was good to go.  An evening of food, drink, bumper cars, carousels and THREE HOURS of dancing in high heels followed.  I felt sure that all this dancing would mean that my muscles would be nicely loosened up and pain free this morning.  I was wrong.  Very wrong.  I may be able to walk normally again one day, but I'm not holding my breath!

All in all, an excellent day, but not one I have any desire to repeat.  I am glad to be able to say I completed the marathon but I will not be back again next year.  If you like trails then give it a go but don't expect a fast time!  Last year there were only 9 runners who finished in a faster time than my PB - and I am not a fast runner.