This little piggy….

I like a race that is close to home.  It means that I get a bit of a lie in and reduces the stress involved when you don't know exactly where you are headed and are trusting to Google maps for a route and an estimated arrival time.  At 7am this morning I lay in bed thinking that this was the way to do it.  A nice mug of tea, provided by one of the children and no huge rush.  My friend was arriving at 7.45am and we knew that we would be at the venue before 8.15am.  This would give us oodles of time to pick up our numbers, queue for loos and get bored of waiting around for the race to start.  

Ha!  The traffic gods had other ideas.  We got to within a mile of the race start by about 8.10am and ground to a halt.  There was a solid line of traffic and it didn't seem to be moving at all.  Yes, Loseley Park does have a long drive, but it also has several car parks.  It got to the point where I worked out we had travelled less than a quarter of a mile in 25 minutes - at this point I suggested that my friend walked to the start - she could queue up for the race numbers and if the worst came to pass at least one of us would be at the start.  I still can't really work out why it took us so long to drive that last short section.  If there had been no one there directing the cars I don't think it could have been slower!  As it was I just  sat in the car getting more and more anxious.  I don't do 'late!'  I rarely do on time.  I am normally early.  Very early.  It is just too stressful not being on time.

I parked just before 9am.  The race was due to start at 9am.  I leapt out of the car… or rather I tried to leap out of the car, but my back had gone into spasm, so I climbed out gingerly and made my way to the registration desk to join the very long queue.  Thankfully the organisers decided to delay the start by 10 minutes, which was just enough time to pick up numbers and run to the loo before heading to the wrong start area.  Call me unimaginative if you will, but a big, inflatable arch with START on it looked pretty much like the start to me.  Luckily one of the race organisers spotted the gathering runners and directed us to the real start.  One that didn't have a great big, inflatable arch with START on it!  We got there just in time to hear the start being announced.  It did not worry me that I was right at the back - it was chip timed so I knew I'd get my actual running time.  Ha!  Wrong - this was one of those races where there is no timing mat at the start, just at the finish.  Ah well, after 3 weeks spent coughing for NATO, including a couple of days where I was so ill that, not only did I not go to work, I also didn't even consider going for a run, I wasn't expecting to run a fabulous race.

The start of this Hog shaped race was a lovely, gentle downhill.  3/4 of a mile into the race we passed the 1km marker.  Even allowing for the notorious inaccuracy of Garmins, it struck me that if every kilometre was this this long it would be a very long 11.7km!  The first hill was short, but steep.   I will admit to walking the last 100m of the hill as I just couldn't get enough breath in to keep me going and was coughing like a 40 a day smoker!  This was followed by an ominous downhill, after all what goes down must go up.  This climb, which took us from Guildford up to the Hog's Back was 2 miles long!  A 2 mile climb in a race that is only just over 7 miles seems a little excessive! This climbing part of the Hog's Back Road also included just over a mile of muddy, puddly track.  There may have been views along the way, but if I wasn't looking at the floor the sky was grey and cloudy!  The marshals were lovely, encouraging and enthusiastic.

After that it was pretty much downhill all the way until the 3/4 mile - which was uphill again!  Not hugely steep, but obviously a bridge too far for some of the runners.  I overtook lots of people who had overtaken me earlier and at 11k I could see the finish!  It was a straight run on farm track down a slight incline.  I could not wait to finish - so put on a burst of speed.  I know I didn't work hard today. I have felt more exhausted at the end of a training run than I did today, but it is another race finished and a cute medal added to the collection.

The coffee van in the finish area could not cope with the volume of business, (and we are both getting old so found the music a bit loud!) so we retired to Cote for breakfast and fun playing with our medals.

This is a lovely little race, but the lack of organisation let it down.  We were lucky with the weather - although blowy the wind had died down significantly and it stayed dry.  I came home saying 'never again,' but predictably my feelings have softened somewhat.  If if doesn't clash with anything more appealing next year you will no doubt find me at the start line again!

Just when it was all going so well.

In the staffroom on Thursday a colleague and I looked forward to today.  I say 'looked forward' but what we were doing was discussing how much we would pay *not* to run today's G3 cross country race. We wondered how much snow would be needed for the organisers to cancel the race, which was a bit of an academic debate as there was no snow forecast.    That said, I had bought new, super grippy cross country shoes and I was keen to try them out.  To register my apathy towards cross country and trail running I wore my Kent Road Runner t shirt!  Having learnt from last time, I   checked my bag at the baggage drop as we made our short way to the start chatting with people we'd met back on the 10th.

The roads were not too bad and we arrived without  incident, registered and sat in the car waiting for 8.30am.  

The ground underfoot felt firmer as we set off, the route was a different one to the first race and I anticipated that it would be a much harder run.  I was running 'naked' (i.e. without my Garmin) and was just taking it easy,  I found the flurries of snow quite distracting as I ran.  It seemed really hard to focus with the constant flecks of white all around!  I find this sort of terrain requires a lot of concentration, I am constantly looking down at my feet to make sure I know where I am going, so there isn't a lot of time to admire the views and I certainly never get to that mindless, mediative state that occurs when road running.  All this concentration meant that I seemed to pass the kilometre markers sooner than I expected - some of this may be due to rather arbitrary placement of said markers.  I decided to err on the side of caution and to regard the 6km marker as the halfway point.  

Just before this marker we turned sharply left, and I could see the dreaded 'Martha's Back Passage' rising up ahead.  It was dotted with brightly coloured, lycra clad runners that looked like a string of fairly lights.  When I got to the base of the hill it was a relief not to have to decide whether I was going to attempt to run up the hill!  It was a narrow track and everyone ahead of me was walking, so I walked too.  Even that was tough - by the time I got to the top my calves were screaming at me and I was breathing heavily, as was everyone else around me!  From then on it was easier - still lots of uphill bits, but nothing of the magnitude of that monster of a hill.

It was all going really well, I was even beginning to think that this cross country stuff wasn't quite as bad as I'd made out.  I passed the water station and the St John's Ambulance people at the 8km marker, this stretch was flat and the path was smooth.  I didn't trip, I didn't stumble, but suddenly my foot was going totally the wrong way underneath me and I was on my hands an knees on the floor!  Several other runners stopped to help - shouting back to the St John's Ambulance guys.  I was just swearing and crying a little bit.  I hobbled back with the first aiders and wondered what to do.  I was able to put a bit of weight on my foot, but it was very ouchy!  I hate not finishing things, and thought that I might as well collect the second medal in the series.  I lost about 10 minutes faffing around and deciding what to do.  

It hurt, and I took it very easy.  I heard my name being called behind me, so stopped and waited while my friend caught up with me.  We ran together for a while until we got to an uphill section across a field. The track here was smooth, I could put my foot down with relative confidence and not having to bend it too much meant that it didn't hurt as much as it did when I put it down on the uneven ground.  Plus the pain took my mind off the hill.  I somehow pulled away from my friend - I don't think he'll forgive me for that!  I just kept plodding on.  

I crossed the finish line and made it as far as the table where the timing chips were being collected.  I couldn't go any further.  I stood there and fought back the tears while the first aiders were summoned.  My head of department finished a few seconds behind me and came to see if I was OK.  She even went to fetch my medal for me as I wasn't going anywhere fast!  I got myself checked out by the St John's Ambulance people who advised me to go to A&E at some point.  I decided to have breakfast first.  I was in urgent need of several cups of tea!  

After a couple of hours at A&E I was released with no bones broken but a lovely purple bruise and ligament damage.  It seems that crutches are in order for a while - plus a trip to the GP and physio.  The timing couldn't be worse in terms of training for upcoming marathons - but there isn't a lot I can do about that now.  As it was I came home and spent the afternoon snoozing, only waking up when I moved my foot and it hurt, rather than getting on with the marking I needed to do!  Ah well - I won't be running tomorrow so I can mark those mocks then!

A big thank you to everyone who helped me today.  Especially the nameless runner who stayed with me when I fell.  It has made me realise how daft I have been in the past to run on similar terrain on my own.  

Now I remember why I love road running!

What was I thinking?  I must have signed up for this under the influence of alcohol because I really don't like cross country.  I particularly don't like cross country when it is cold, wet, windy and muddy.  And yet somehow I had signed up for a whole series of cross country races!  The G3 series to be exact.      These are billed as three tough and hilly races of about 10km.  I decided that 10km was just about as far as I'd want to run cross country at the moment, and how 'tough and hilly' could it be?

The answer to that question is: very!  We arrived at Newlands Corner while it was still dark, parked, registered and made use of the loos (not portaloos so that was a bonus!) and then sat in the car to keep warm.  The car park was right next to the start so we waited until very near the 8.30am start time before emerging to shiver with all the other runners.  Today was one of the very few times that I haven't arrived a race and bumped into loads of people I have met before either at other races or in online running communities.  I knew 2 people today, my chauffeur for the morning and my head of department who lives nearby and was running with her running club.

And then we were off.  Downhill  at first, which was nice, but thick, squishy mud from the outset made for slow going even here.  My chauffeur fell over quite early on, but was OK.  I ploughed on, swearing rather a lot!  It was impossible to go faster than a snails pace a lot of the time due to the mud, the narrowness of some of the paths.  For taller runners, low hanging branches may also have hampered their progress.  And then came Martha's Hill for the first time.  Running up that steep hill on sand (yes, really, deep yellow sand that would be lovely on a beach in the sunshine type sand) was a challenge.  I ran, albeit very slowly at times to the very top where a photographer was waiting to capture our red faces for posterity next to the very pretty St Martha's on the Hill Church .

The next section proved to be my downfall - quite literally!  On the steep downhill section my ankle hit the ground at a strange angle and oh boy how it hurt!  The irony was that because I was going down hill and couldn't put too much weight on that poor foot I couldn't stop!  I had to just keep going until I got to the bottom.  It hurt if I ran, but it hurt just as much if I walked - so given that I was half way around it seemed sensible to carry on.  But I slowed right down and walked the steepest uphills and the very steep downhills (running downhill on sand is a bit scary!)  We had to go up Martha's Hill a second time, what joy!  The views, even in the cloudy weather, were stunning.  The marshals on this very well marked out course were friendly and helpful - as were the several bemused dog walkers we encountered!  The distance markers were fairly arbitrarily placed.  I passed the 9km marker as my Garmin pinged to tell me I'd run 6miles (and yes, I know GPS is sometimes a bit off, but that is quite a difference!)

At one point we ran along a little path separated from a road by a hedge and all I could think was 'There's a perfectly good bit of tarmac there, why am I running in mud?'  During the run I chatted with lots of other runners - so many friendly people - which passed the time.  A lovely German man who is returning to Canada next week (that's one way to get out of running the next to races, but a tad extreme) and lots of people who all seemed to know my boss!  The very final section saw us running back through the mud we'd run through at the start.  It was now ankle deep and churned up from all the feet that had been through it.  But the end was now in sight - thankfully!  Standing at the finish waiting for my chauffeur to finish was a wee bit chilly, as the wind picked up and it started to rain properly, but soon we were collecting medals (my first of the year) and a slice of flapjack (*) and making our way to Tillings for a well deserved cup of tea and breakfast.

There is a reason that you get a discount for signing up for all three races: if I hadn't signed up for all three at the start I very much doubt I'd be coming back for more.  That is no reflection on the race or the organisation (which was superb), I just don't enjoy cross country.  Maybe I'll find the love if I do a bit more (I do hope so as I have an off road marathon in June), after all there was a time when I hated running full stop!  By the time I'd finished breakfast I'd gone from 'never again' to 'next time I need to consider x, y and z' (One of those factors being my eyesight - I was struggling to see properly at some points!) so maybe by the end of 2015 I'll love the mud!

Huge thanks to my chauffeur and to my boss for inviting us to join the fitstuff gang for post run breakfast!  I think this is the toughest race I have ever run.

(*)  I loved not having a goody bag!  Much nice to get a selection of food to choose from (banana, brownies and flapjack) than a bag containing flyers and advertising bumf!