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...

Rocky Pub 2 Pub Race

A few days ago a friend posted on Facebook about a race being run by Portsmouth Joggers' Club.  It was cheap to enter and in aid of a good cause - the Rocky Appeal, so I shouted upstairs to Husbando and asked if he fancied a 7.5 mile road run.  He shouted down to ask when, I shouted back to say 27th at 11am, he shouted down to say where, I repied Horndean, he shouted back again where!  At this point one of the children told us to embrace the 21st century and just text each other like normal people as we were disturbing their TV watching/PS 4 marathon.....

That's how we ended up in Horndean on a frosty December morning.  We were very glad to find that the race HQ was in a toasty warm village hall and not in a draughty tent. we grabbed a cup of tea and some biscuits and bought some raffle tickets while we waited, avoiding going out in the cold for as long as possible.  But out into the cold we had to go, at least by 11am it had warmed up a little.  It was a beautifully sunny and clear day, which meant that there was nothing to obscure the view of the hill that marked the start of the race.

I'd been told, by someone who had not run the race, that it was uphill all the way out and downhill all the way back.   This was somewhat reassuring as we slogged up the hill that made up the first mile of the race away from The Ship and Bell.  Husbando and I had thought that we might run together, but my right quad was so tight that I knew I would not be having the best of runs, I didn't want to slow him down so about half a mile in I told him to go on and watched him vanish up the hill.  The outward leg was predominantly uphill, but not entirely, and there is no fun in running down hill when you know that very soon you are going to have to run back up it!

Before the start of the downhill section I fell into pace with a bloke and we ran together for quiet a way, just before the 3 mile point we saw the first of the fast runners coming back, so we shouted encouragement and greeted people we knew by name.  Husbando came along and looked to be running well.  I told him to make sure he had a cup of tea waiting when I finished.   The turn around point was at the second pub, The Red Lion in Chalton.  The pub missed a trick by being closed when we arrived, I would have stopped for a quick G&T, so we had to make do with a quick chat with the ladies on the water station, and a cup of water before heading off for the return leg.

The weather was lovely, the views were pretty, but the hills were a wee bit brutal.  I told the man I was running with (I think his name was Andy) that when we got to the steep hill I was going to run/walk it.  I knew the hill was about half a mile long, and that while I could run it, it wouldn't be pretty and I would take ages to recover.  So I ran 50 paces and walked 40 all the way to the top.  When I got to the 'top' it carried on going up - I hadn't noticed that this section was downhill on the way out!  Thank heavens for the encouraging marshals - there were plenty of them to encourage us along and make sure we didn't go the wrong way.

The last mile was, obviously, downhill.  And I managed to pull of a fairly good impression of someone who is able to run as I approached the finish.  Husbando was waiting with his camera, having finished hours earlier.  No bling for this race, but a couple of freebies - chewy vitamin pills and a coffee drink.

After getting my breath back we took a seat in the village hall to wait for the raffle to be drawn.  Husbando got me a cup of tea (he is well trained) and we chatted with other runners.  We made out like bandits in the raffle.  We handed back 3 prizes but still had quite a haul to carry home with us!

Thank you to Portsmouth Joggers for putting on this fun race for the 32nd time!  Hope that you raised loads of money.  

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.  

Hmm.

The sharp eyed among you will realise that I ran a race last weekend and did not blog about it.  Shock horror!  Had I lost the ability to type?  Was my internet connection down?  No, I just had a bit of a duff race and didn't feel that I could write about it.  Reading Half Marathon had been marketed as having a 'new route' which was 'fast and flat.'  It didn't seem that different to previous years in terms of hilliness, but I had started the race feeling a bit nauseous and as I ran I felt worse.  I threw up 4 times in 13.1 miles - classy!  By the time I finished I was dehydrated, and I swayed across the finish lines with my vision blurring.  Luckily a friend spotted me and grabbed hold of me so that I didn't add passing out at the finish to puking my guts up around Reading!  My stomach muscles ached and I was disappointed with my time.

The fact that I was disappointed is silly.  This time last year I would have been thrilled with a half marathon time of 1hr 50mins 58secs.  And a bit selfish!  I have friends who can't run because they are ill and injured - I can run, and the weather was beautiful.  I even got a fabulous race photo!

However since Reading whenever I have run, or even thought about running, I have felt sick.  Even running parkrun (about which I want to say a lot so will probably do another blog post) with Freddy yesterday made me feel a bit icky.  There is nothing wrong with me, it is all in my mind - but that doesn't make it any less annoying.  So that's why there was no post Reading blog.

Fast forward to today.  In a fit of enthusiasm earlier in the year I entered the Combe Gibbet to Overton 16 mile cross country race.  "It'll be fun!" people told me.  So I signed up.  My record with cross country this year hasn't been great, I've only done two other races, G1 and G2 - and both of them have resulted in my hurting myself and swearing a lot.  Today, with the clocks going forward during the night, I was glad of an afternoon start.  I thought it might allow the weather to improve.  16 miles in the rain didn't really seem like fun.  We were bussed from Overton to Combe Gibbet, through chocolate box villages along winding roads and arrived at our starting point in a howling wind.  It was a struggle to walk up the hill from the car to the gibbet.  It was, to say the least a somewhat exposed location!  So exposed that a few of the boys, who didn't think to check the wind direction, ended up spraying themselves, and possibly their neighbours, when having a quick pre race pee.  It was funny to watch.

Thankfully we set off down the hill we had struggled up.  The wind was behind us and propelled us forward.  It was hilly but not too steep, the ground underfoot was varied.  We had been informed that the first 5 miles were wet, the second 5 were sticky and the last 5 were bone dry.  And it had, at last, stopped raining - or at least I think it had, the wind was so extreme that it was hard to notice anything else.  I wore a running jacket for the first few miles, then got too warm and tied it around my waist where it acted as an effective sail - sadly not always steering me in the direction I wished to travel.  I threw up twice before 7 miles.  Hmm.

Some of the paths were very uneven and slippery.  At 7.5miles I put my left foot down at a daft angle and it twisted under me.  This is the foot I damaged at the end of January.  It hurt.  It hurt a lot.  So much so that I thought I would have to quit.  I thought I would hobble on to the next marshal point and see how I felt.  I don't like quitting, so I was doing the maths in my head to see if I could make the cut off (get to 12 miles by 2hrs 30mins or be taken of the course).  I could, I thought, just.

I got to the next marshal point and found out that it was a mile and a half to the next one (on the other side of the A34 after going through an underpass).  My foot had eased off by some point by the time I got there and the ground here was smoother, so I though I'd carry on.  I was mostly walking at this point, but that was OK, this section was a long gradual hill and with the wind still blowing for NATO I was concentrating on staying upright.  I chatted with a few people as we walked/ran.  The weather was improving but the wind was here to stay!  I got to 12 miles well within the cut off time, and my foot was feeling a bit better.  Still painful, still sore but not agony.  I thought it was just about possible, if I could pick up the pace, to finish in 2hrs 40mins.  The last 4 miles were more downhill than uphill, but the downhill hurt my foot more.

I pushed on.  I was overtaking a lot of the people who had passed me back at 7.5miles - which was nice - and the last section was on road, which meant I didn't have to think about where I was putting my feet.  I ran as fast as I could to make sure I could get that sub 2.40.  As I ran into the finish field there were 2 men ahead of me running together, I picked up the pace and manage to finish between the two of them.  The man I chicked was Steven King - I don't think he was the author!

I crossed the line, collected my medal and swore my way across the field to a group of friends.  "If I ever talk about signing up for another f*cking cross country race you have my permission to f*cking shoot me!"  Apparently in the course of 30 minutes I uttered one sentence that did not contain any swearing.  I hope I was polite to the ladies serving tea and cakes!  But I had done it!  2hrs 39mins and (I think) 48 secs - nothing like cutting it fine!

Would I do this race again.  Hell no!  Would I recommend it to a friend - yes I would!  From the luxury coaches conveying us to the start to the tea and cakes at the end this was a brilliant little race.   I couldn't help but think what a lovely route this would be to walk along on a summer day.

Garmin link here - for anyone who wants a giggle at my comedy splits!

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!

He, who would valiant be...

I am not entirely sure how I ended up entering this event again.    Indeed, if look at my blog from last year,  I find I am at pretty much the same stage in this year, new job - great but still in the rabbit in the headlights stage, tired, losing my voice etc.  At least I'm not training for an imminent marathon.  I think that I entered because I decided to do the Giant's Head Marathon next year and thought I'd need to get some trail experience.  I'm only doing the Giant's Head for the medal (go on, have a look, you know you want to!)  26.2 miles on trail is a long way for a confirmed road runner so today I was only taking on the half.  

The weather was fantastic.  I'd obviously misread the weather forecast as I'd thought the sunny, warm weather was over, but the sun was shining and clouds were scudding by as we waited for the start.  We got their early enough to see the full marathon runners off, and I caught up with friends.  I have since discovered, via Facebook, that there were several other people I know there and I am sorry to have missed them.  As they set off they were told to 'watch out for tyre girl' who had set out early for the marathon pulling a tyre behind her.  I prefer to carry my tyre around my middle!  As we had time we had lovely coffee from at the back of a Citroen van.  This of course meant a queue of the loos!  

Soon we were off, having just managed to get to the end of the loo queue and back to the start line in time to sort out  my Garmin.  As we left the start area we passed through the open gate, and my race almost ended there.  I was chatting to a fellow runner and did not see the thin, grey end of the gate pointing towards me (see photo).  I hit it hard with my left shoulder!  It wasn't marked and with loads of people all around it was not easy to spot.  Still, onwards and briefly downwards I went.  Running on the road was easy, nice and wide, easy to pass people.  I'd decided to just see how I felt and not force the pace as I have another race next weekend (and the weekend after).  Which idiot enters 4 races in the first 5 weeks of a new job, with one of them being in another country?  So I pootled along, chatting with people I knew, people I'd never met before.  I made a huge effort to catch up with one lady who I thought was someone I knew only to find she was a total stranger!  I caught up with someone I know from CPRC briefly and was introduced to his running companion.  Only in England would one turn and shake hands with someone one was introduced to while running a race!   

Once off the road it got a bit more serious.  The paths were narrow in places which resulted in having to walk for some sections and during other sections I just concentrated on keeping up with the person in front.  The hills were as sapping as last year, but I think that the weight loss has helped as I recovered much faster.  Not that you could speed down lots of the hills as they were steep and, well, trailey!  I stopped completely to check on two runners who fell spectacularly!  My automatic reaction to stopping running was to stop my Garmin, luckily I didn't stop it for long and the runners were both OK.  The highest point of the run offered absolutely stunning views, I'd say they were breathtaking, but I didn't have much breath left to take!  There was less haze this year and I could see much further.  If I can work out where it was I would love to go back and spend some time there.  

The water stations were well placed, just when I thought I was too thirsty (it was warmer than I'd anticipated) a water station appeared!  The marshals were friendly and cheerful.  I think I managed to thank most of them as I plodded past.  At one point, in the last couple of miles, I overtook someone and realised that I couldn't see anyone ahead of me.  I panicked a bit and called over my shoulder 'Are we going the right way?' and sped up so that I had someone in view.  Soon we were back on the road.  Running past the golf course and up hill to the gate to the field.  I spotted a man in a purple shirt who had passed me way back at mile 4 (in Puttenham).  I caught him up, overtaking several people in the process.  Then I carried on overtaking people as I knew that the finish beckoned.  At one point I overtook a car - shouting 'I'm faster than a car!'  Then it was round the corner and down the hill to the finish.  I heard my name called and I think I waved - but I was intent on catching just one more person.  I threw myself over the line and heard my number and name over the tannoy - a nice touch that.  I'd done it!  And 11 minutes faster than last year!  

The CPRC guys I'd caught up with briefly had finished ahead of me (it was they who had shouted as I came in), so I went to join them.  Apparently they didn't realise I was so fast.  I said I wasn't really, more a case of being too stubborn to give it!  

As I waited for my friend to come in I collected my medal and my tech t-shirt.  Then I totally messed up sorting out my 'phone to take a photo of her as she sprinted to the finish!  Sorry!   After that we went for lunch!  Steak frites and a glass of wine.  Lovely.

So, how many trail races will I have to do before I feel the love?  This was a very well organised event, the views were stunning, there was plenty of cake for afterwards (I was good and did not partake), and I am very glad I did it.  But to say I enjoyed it would be an overstatement!