Saving the best 'til last.

Last night I did something I'd never done before.

No, it wasn't meeting up with a load of strangers that I only knew via the internet.  I first did that in 1999, obviously lived to tell the tale and made some some very good friends.

Last night I met up with a group of strangers I knew via the internet, in a forest, in the dark to go for a trail run.  Armed with a head torch, and accompanied by a friend, we arrived in the car park at Queen Elizabeth Country Park (QECP) in the pouring rain. I'd run at QECP before as it is the setting for one of the more challenging parkruns in the area, but I'd never run cross country in the dark before.  It seemed that the rain was here to stay, so after a few brief hellos and a head count (there were 12 of us) we set off.  We were led by Kiernan - who took us along the route of a race he is organising at the end of January - the Rubix Chilly Hilly.

The start, once we had run up hill from the car park to get there, was a gentle downhill, but that was soon to change, we went up hills, down hills that had become rivers in the rain, we slipped and ducked to avoid low branches.  At times we walked up the really steep bits and, at every corner, we stopped and waited to make sure that there were still 12 of us and that we were all still happy.  It was great fun. I am pretty sure that there were some stunning vistas from our run route, but it was dark and I was looking to see where the next firm(ish) bit of ground was.  It will be nice to come back in daylight and I've put in an order for dry weather!  The run wasn't fast - it would be silly to try to run too fast on such uneven ground in the dark, but it is the most fun I have had while running in a long time.

Back in the car park the runners dispersed fairly quickly.  My friend and I took rather longer.  She has a brand new car, so trailing mud into it would just be rude, and she was dropping me in Petersfield to meet Husbando and some friends for supper, so I figured I needed clean up a little bit.  Balancing on one leg in the light shining from the courtesy light of the car and trying to maintain as much modesty (dignity went out of the window a long time ago) I managed to change into clean running kit.  My feet were caked in the mud that had gone in over the top of my trainers, but clean socks and shoes felt fabulous.

Meeting friends for supper was one of those spur of the moment decisions we made while having coffee in the morning.  We made a couple of 'phone calls and soon there were 5 of us going for supper at Annie Jones' in Petersfield.  I'd been there twice before - once for tapas and once in the more formal restaurant.  I did have a few qualms when I discovered we'd booked the restaurant as, although I much preferred it to the tapas, I was worried that having one member of the group turning up half an hour later and looking like a drowned rat (there is only so much one can do in a carpark with a hand towel, a wet wipe, a hair brush and a can of deodorant) might be frowned upon.

But it was fine.  In fact it was more than fine.  It was excellent.  I had one of the best meals I have had in a very long time, in fact every single dish that came to the table was excellent, the waiter was attentive and helpful and didn't seem too put out by the bag of wet running gear I dumped on the floor under our table.  The company was excellent too.  We enjoyed a couple of bottles of wine, a fantastic meal and decided that we should do this more often.

All in all an excellent evening - a run that reminded me why I love running, and the company of good friends enjoying lovely food!  A pretty good way to round off 2015 really!

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.  

Bramley. Again.

My relationship with this race is not great.  I ran the 10 mile in 2012, wimped out of starting in 2013, had a nightmare at the 2014 20 mile race and yet somehow I found myself at the start line again this morning.  Given that my marathon training had been put on hold following my tumble at the end of January, and the fact that my foot is still not fully healed I couldn't help but think that running 20 miles was a foolish endeavour.  But I'd paid my entry fees and I hate wasting money.  This is the only 20 mile race I have ever run, so I knew I could run 10min/mile pace and still get a PB.  That is what I intended to do - nice and easy.  

We had a bit of a FetchEveryone meet up before the race.  Cup of tea, gossip, proper loos - that sort of thing and then made our way a couple of hundred meters down the road to the start at Bramley Primary School.  There were hundreds and hundreds of runners!  It seemed a much bigger field than in previous years and as such there were loads of people I knew there but didn't get to see in the crowd.  It took well over a minute to cross the start line - so just as well there was chip timing.  

My pacing plan went out of the window as soon as I started running.  I felt as though I was taking it easy but was running close to 8min/mile pace.  Not sustainable, given my current level of fitness! I slowed down, started chatting to people around me.  And there were plenty of people around me - I hadn't remembered it being this busy the year before.  The water stations were frequent and the marshals friendly and the miles ticked by.  As we approached the 10 mile mark I decided I wanted to run on my own for a while.  I was aware that running and talking was stopping me from listening to any niggles that my foot was giving me.  At 10 miles all the 10 mile runners finish - which is an obvious statement I know, but it means that you are running alongside runners who are sprinting towards the finish line.  This, coupled with the slight downhill at this point, makes it very hard not to pick up the pace - which would be a really silly idea as there are still another 10 miles to go!

I got to the 10 mile mark in about 1hr 29 mins - only 3 minutes slower than my PB, and made the decision to keep on running.  I ran past the bus shelter where I'd had a little sob last year and felt OK.  The roads were much clearer now - this is, I suppose, why I don't remember it as a busy race, because the second half isn't!  Although I had dropped my pace a little, this second half felt as though it was faster, I think I'd got into the flow and the mile markers seemed to come round quicker.  It is all in the mind I know - but it did seem as though it wasn't taking long.  

At around 14 miles there was a warning shout from a runner behind me about a car.  I was hugging the verge, but a great big, shiny, black Range Rover was right on top of me.  I tapped on his window and had stern words with him as I ran along side him!  I was polite - but I am sure he is in no doubt that I have a very low opinion of idiots who drive aggressively when there are runners around!  I got a cheer from the other runners - and one of them pointed out that if I could carry on a conversation while running alongside a Range Rover then I wasn't putting enough effort into my running!

At 15 miles my lack of training kicked in.  The slope that had seemed so easy at 6 miles was sapping my strength at 16m, but I WOULD NOT give up.  The last 5miles were a testament to mind over matter.  I remember a PTI from my TA days who would always say 'Your mind gives up long before your body is ready to stop' but today I proved him wrong.  My mind is way more stubborn than my body and stopping was not an option.  I was even beginning to regret stopping at the water stations.  I can't walk and drink (let alone run and drink) from an open cup, and I'd not brought a water bottle with me - so I stopped at each station.  Now I could see that this time was wasted time and would mean that there was no way I could get a sub 3hr time.  I was still on course for a PB though (previous time was 3:27:39) so I'd have to be content with that.  

With 1.5 miles to go I passed a young man walking up a hill - I grabbed his arm and dragged him up the hill with me!  Managed to hustle a couple of people along like this.  This was the only bit of the second lap that seemed longer than the first.  The finish line took forever to materialise, but when I saw it I put on a burst of speed in sheer desperation for this to be over!  I finished in about 3hrs 1minute.  

Once I'd staggered through the finish handed over my timing chip and collected my goody bag I made my way to the Fetch gathering, where our wonderful hostess (who had herself completed the 10 mile race) was kind enough to undo my shoe laces so that I didn't have to bend over!  She also furnished us with many cups of tea, chilli con carne, jacket potatoes and cakes.  It really does make the race extra special to meet up with such lovely people afterwards.  

As to the race bling, hmm, Husbando described it as an ashtray!  A little metal dish thing.  Not sure about it to be honest.  I like a medal :-)

Putting it into context.

I have a list of things I dislike.  It is quite a long list and, to avoid causing offence to too many people, I won't mention all my pet hates here.  I'll try to keep them relevant to today's run!  I dislike, in no particular order, running on grass, running in mud, through puddles and with wet feet.  I hate driving into or around or through Reading.  I have nothing against the people of Reading - but the roads are just too confusing - give me straight forward London driving any day.  And I really, really hate being late.

So today didn't start well when I woke up to discover that Husbando had gone out and taken the car.  I sent him a tex, reminding him that I needed to leave at 7.30am, and made myself a cup of tea - not realising that the text was not delivered until I went to pick up  my phone again.  Argh!  Panic!   Husbando hove into view at ten to eight.  TEN TO EIGHT!  Google maps said it would take me 55 minutes to drive to Thames Valley Park, and I have a history of getting lost in one way systems in Reading.  Adding to that I'd have to find parking and the start of Reading parkrun.  I was a little bit stressed by this state of affairs.

Luckily the traffic was good and I only took one wrong turn in Reading, and Google maps lied a bit (or I drove too fast - who can say?) and I had arrived and parked by 8.35am, phew!  Reading parkrun's course info page told me that 'regular road running shore should certainly suffice in most weathers' but I decided, on advice of other parkrun tourists, to wear my trail shoes.  This was the right choice - although in retrospect mud claws would have been a better choice… not that I own any because, as has already been stated, I don't like running on mud!

Having picked my way between muddy patches to the start area, I bumped into friends I know via the parkrun show and lovely Gary - with whom I have run a couple of marathons in the past.  Soon we were on the start line and raring to go.

And then… squelchy, squishy, slippery, slidey mud.  And lots of it!  I didn't know what my feet were doing half the time.  I revised my hoped for finish time and concentrated on staying upright!  The views along the Thames were lovely - but I couldn't look up and see them as I was terrified of ending up flat on my face in the mud.  And kicking myself for not bringing an entire change of clothing with me just in case of such an eventuality!  Part of each lap was on gravel paths - sheer heaven after the mud, and a chance to claw back a few seconds, but with paths came puddles and there were choices to be made.  Pick one's way gingerly around the puddle, through the mud, losing time or plough straight through the middle.  I went for the latter option.  Once your feet are wet they can't get much wetter (but it was bitterly cold and a bit of a shock to the tootsies!)  The last 600m are back across grass, just when I wanted to put on a bit of a sprint I found I was struggling like Bambi on ice (but far less graceful).  I overtook someone, then realised I could not work out where the finish funnel was - there were loads of people but I couldn't spot the tape, so I let him overtake me again (having established he knew where he was heading) and managed to get across the line in 24.59.

I was disappointed with my time.  It had been hard work and I always want to take advantage of my child free parkruns to run as hard as I can.  I chalked it up to experience, met up with friends and went for coffee.  We left our very muddy trainers outside the doorway to the David Lloyd gym and had a very nice coffee and a natter.  Putting ice cold, wet trainers back on is somewhat unpleasant, but it didn mean that the pleasure I felt at changing into warm and dry socks and trainers when I got back to the car was immense!

Back at home, looking at the results page, I realised that I was 4th lady to finish - I've only bettered that at Pymmes parkrun (very small field) and first in my age category.  So maybe it wasn't such a bad run after all.  And, at the end of the day, I was out there doing something I love, with people who share my passion.  There are thousands of people who couldn't run if they wanted to. Thousands of people who go for days and days without any meaningful interaction with other people.   I get to do this every single week.

And today I came home to madeleines made by my 10 year old son...