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...

On accidental first marathons and irresponsible dog owners.

Okay, so who was taking bets on me falling over during today's race?  Who had a side bet that it would happen within the first mile and involve man's best friend?  If you had money on this you'd have made out like a bandit today!  We were pootling along at a nice easy pace, a lady I know was about 20' ahead of us and I heard her say a cheery 'good morning' to a walker with a dog on a lead.  We didn't hear a reply.  As we approached I said 'good morning' and Husbando that there were about 100 runners coming along.  No reply, we thought nothing of it and ran on around a corner, Husbando a few paces behind me.  Next thing I know the dog is running around my ankles - he'd been let off his lead.  I had two choices, stop quickly or drop kick the dog over the hedge and into the field.  I chose to stop quickly and in doing so ended up twisting my knee and falling over.  I thought that this was end-ex for me - it was that stabbing, sick making pain that could be really nasty.  Lots of runners stopped to see how I was as I stood, crying and swearing, by the side of the path.  The dog owner walked off without a backward glance.

I walked a while, then tried a gentle jog, it actually hurt slightly less to run than to walk, so I knew I would make it to the end of the first lap, but decided that a marathon was out of the question.  I was greatly cheered when I spotted a fire engine, and firemen!  I finished the first lap, swearing all the way and casting aspersions about the size of the dog walker's genitalia (which seemed to amuse a fellow runner and blogger from irunoffroad greatly!) and ate a handful of painkillers when I got to the aid station.  The painkillers, along with industrial quantities of sweets, seemed to do the trick and I set off for an experimental second lap.  Husbando was brilliant, staying with me rather than running on, we settled into a steady pace, where we could chat quite happily.  We passed the dog owner again, I called him a rude name under my breath and felt a bit better.  Later on lap 2 we ran into the firemen again - and they blew their horn at me!  Husbando made smutty comments about hoses and horns - he obviously wasn't working hard enough!

We decided that 3 laps (about 14 miles) would be enough.  Husbando had run 16.4 miles at Timelord on the Thames on Wednesday, my knee was hurting, 14 miles is a respectable distance for a Sunday.  But, we got to the aid station and start finish area, changed shoes (and in Husbando's case applied Compeed blister plasters) and thought, 'What the heck, let's do one more!'  After you've faffed at the aid station for a few minutes, eaten sugar laden treats, drunk full fat coke and when you know that the first few hundred metres are downhill it is very easy to go on.  And boy did we faff at the aid stations!  Husbando stopped his Garmin whenever we were stuffing our faces, I left mine running - over the course of the race we spent 30 minutes not running!  This is testament to the friendliness of the race organisers, the support of other runners (Husbando is very grateful for the Compeed) and my greediness when faced with a box of Haribos!

At the end of lap 3 we didn't ring the bell, we'd decided to see how we felt after a wee rest.  On the 4th lap we pretty much decided that we were going to run 6 laps (28 miles).  This would be Husbando's first marathon.  He hadn't even begun his marathon training programme, and I hadn't run a marathon since September.  We really were not respecting the distance!  Towards the end of lap 5 I heard words that I never thought I'd hear 'I'm struggling to keep up with you!' I switched us to a 9min run/1 min walk strategy, although I blatantly ignored it if we were on a downhill when we should be walking!  We hit 26.2 miles in 4hrs 43 (or 4hrs 20 actual moving time) and celebrated with a hug and a 2 minute walk break before resuming our plod to the finish.

The course was gently undulating, running around Staunton Country Park in Havant - only 1,500' of elevation over the entire marathon, but the little hill at the end of each lap got steeper and steeper!  We had walked up it on lap 5, but ran it on the last lap - just to show the hill who was boss!

We rang the bell and collected our medals and hugs from the race director.  My knee had got to the stage where it hurt so much it no longer hurt... well - that's what I was telling myself as we hobbled back to the car!  Husbando had just run his first marathon and I am very proud of him!  It is the first time I have run an entire race with someone else - and we didn't kill each other!

Huge thanks to the organisers and the support of all the runners today.  If you haven't done an On The Whistle event BOOK ONE NOW - you'll have to be quick though as they sell out quickly!

Feeling our age!

Husbando and I went for a run this evening.  Nothing unusual in that, I hear you say, but bear with me.

This morning Husbando went to a local sports shop to spend a voucher he'd been given for his birthday, while he was there he found out that the shop was having a 'try on evening' for Hoka trail shoes and Silva head torches.  They were planning a trail run in a local wood that I've wanted to explore for some time now - so it was a no brainer really.

We pitched up at the shop and got ourselves kitted out.  Husbando had brand new Hoka's that he got this morning, and I had a pair already, so really we were just road (trail?) testing the head torches and getting to try out a new route.  It was evident that we were, er, quite a bit older than any of the other runners!  Husbando's sweat shirt was older than any of the other runners!  And at 31 years old I think that the sweat shirt had at least 5 years on most of them.

Once kitted up off we set in the rain.  About a kilometre on the road and then into the woods.   It was very muddy.  I do like a muddy run (but please don't tell anyone that) but I like to take it steady and this was not an option.  The pace was much faster than I would normally attempt in the dark on a trail.  We averaged 9.14min/mile including stopping to regroup, cross roads etc. etc. And it was tough - I didn't love the Silva head torch, it was very light weight but it wasn't as bright as my current torch.  I couldn't help thinking that if one of these youngsters fell we'd be talking green stick fracture whereas if Husbando or I fell we'd probably need an air ambulance and months of rehab!   There was no chatting this evening - just concentrating on keeping up and keeping upright and we really felt as though we'd worked hard when we got back onto the road.  What was interesting was that, back on the road Husbando and I automatically picked up the pace overtaking much of the rest of the group.

We enjoyed our run, it is good to do something different from time to time, and trail running at this pace is different enough for me,  but I think I'll be back on the slopes of Queen Elizabeth Country Park next Wednesday - I like to be able to chat while running!

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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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

I entered Endure 24 on a whim.  A friend of a friend had a solo place that he could no longer take up so we organised transferring it to me.  That was in November last year and, other than noting the date in my calendar, I didn't think much about it until a few weeks ago.  Of course I knew what Endure was, I'd seen my friends' Facebook posts about it in previous years and always thought that it looked interesting in a mad, no way would I do that sort of way.  But actually training for a 24 hour endurance race as a solo athlete was so far outside my comfort zone that I couldn't even begin to comprehend what it might involve. 

Pre race info was sketchy in parts.  What were these 'solo wrist bands' that some people were talking about?  How much did they cost?  What did they cover?  I relied on the knowledge of friends who had taken part in previous years for information, without their insight I would have been even more nervous than I already was!  The confusion carried on when I arrived at the site on Friday evening with Husbando to pitch my tent.  There were no marshals to direct us at the entry, so we followed a sign that said 'Solo camping' and found ourselves in a mass of tents, so assumed we had found the correct place, pitched the tent (in high heels and a dress as I had come straight from work) and then discovered we were in the 'small teams area' and a fair walk from the start.  So down came the tent.

Luckily my 'non-specific deities' (NSDs) were out in force this weekend, and just as we were contemplating the move a friend from parkrun came along and carried my airbed so that we didn't have to deflate it to get it in the car.  After pitching the tent again, bending more tent pegs, borrowing better pegs from yet more of my NSD friends and having a gossip with a few people I headed home for a good night's sleep in a proper bed.  At some point in the evening we managed to find out that a wrist band could be purchased (£35) that allowed solo runners to get unlimited food during the 24 hours of the race and to go to the front of the queue in the catering tent.  Husbando decided that this was a good idea, as I was going to be on my own for much of the time without anyone crewing for me.  It took some detective work though as there were no signs up about the band - this meant that I felt guilty every time I made my way to the front of the queue to get a cup of tea and a bacon roll!

Saturday morning, nervous and panicking, I arrived back at Wasing Park.  I faffed around with my kit in the tent, I chatted with friends - who made me cups of tea, I ate breakfast with another friend who was marshalling the event, and then I sat outside my tent and read my book.  I don't really remember much of what I read at all!  I was too anxious to get on with running.  Waiting until 12 noon seemed like torture, but there were more people arriving all the time. 


EDITED 14/06/16:  A brief explanation of 'non-specific deities!'  About a week or two before Endure I had a bit of a flap on Facebook as I realised that I was going to be a 'solo solo!'  Husbando was not able to be there for long at all as he had work, school fete and child care responsibilities (the children have a negligent mother who dashes off to run silly distances at the weekend!) so I was on my own.  One of my friends, part of last year's winning team, said I would need to trust to my non-specific deities to get me through.  Turns out there are a lot of very lovely people out there who all deserve the title.

The start of the race was well worth waiting for.  Simply the best race start I have ever experienced.  The first runner for each team assembled on the start line with all the solo runners, but every single runner from all the teams seemed to be at the start, along with all the supporters.  The first 300m was an absolute wall of noise, quite an emotional experience really.  I really had to struggle not to get carried away by the support and stick to a slow pace.

Laps 1 to 3 (each 5 miles) were fairly fast and great fun.  My lap splits on the results page include the time I spent between each lap grabbing a drink, changing shoes (trail shoes were not necessary) and sorting out underwear malfunctions, so are not really representative of my pace at all.  Lap 4 was run with my lovely, bubbly friend.  I had told myself that, if I bumped into a friend who ran at a slower pace than I did then I would run at their pace, so we walked and ran and chatted - generally putting the World to rights.  I completed lap 4 just as 4 hours of the race had gone, and went to the catering tent to grab a cup of tea and a sausage baguette.  Lap 5 was great, had a chat with another of my NSDs after that - poor lady had to watch while I cleaned off my disgustingly dusty feet so that I could put compeed on a blister and I think it was at the end of this lap that I ran an 8.50 minute/mile with my airbed carrying friend.  Lap 6 was run with the husband of my lovely, bubbly friend from lap 4 -  started that lap before him, as he was waiting for a team mate to come in,  and said that I would walk until he caught me up.  2 years ago he thought he would never run again due to knee problems, but now he is running Endure!  Well done.  A quick change of clothing (sleeves needed as getting chilly and head torch needed)  before setting off for lap 8 with a much speedier friend who has been so kind and supportive this weekend.  I told him that we were walking all hills and just running the flats and the down hills.  We ran and chatted, walked and chatted and still managed a lap in 59 minutes.  I loved that lap.  At that point I thought I could go on forever.

Then lap 9.  Properly dark.  Running with a head torch makes me feel as though I am running in a jiggly tunnel.  It is isolating and disorientating.  I thought I had adopted the same strategy as in the previous lap, but obviously the fairies in the Fairy Wood and the glitter distracted me and it took me an hour and 25 minutes.  I knew I didn't want to run in the dark again, in fact I wasn't sure I wanted to run again all weekend.  As I finished lap 9 I saw Husbando waiting near the solo support tent.  He, blinded by the head torch, didn't see me!  We grabbed some food and chatted.  I decided that I was going to get a massage and then go to bed for a few hours.  I had run 10 miles further than I had ever run before, it was little wonder I was tired.  It didn't make sense for him to hang around - we only had a single air mattress and I was in no mood for sharing - so he went back to a friend's house in Basingstoke where he could sleep comfortably but still be close enough to get back in a hurry if I needed him.

My massage was lovely, my shoulders had become really tight and my legs very heavy.  The massage loosened all that up.  Layers of dust and insect repellent had to be removed from my legs, which was just as well as otherwise they would have been transferred to my sleeping bag!  Retiring to my tent I was convinced I wouldn't sleep at all.  But after a few minutes of listening to other people's conversations I nodded off, to be awoken at 4 by my alarm.  I felt surprisingly good for having had 3.5 hrs in bed and having notched up 45 miles the day before.  I grabbed my head torch, ate a cereal bar, drank some water, laced up my shoes and went out for a dawn run!

This lap was magical.  There were far fewer runners now than on my previous laps and it was dawn.  The music had gone and, while the VDUB bar/disco had cranked out some great tunes at the bottom of Heartbreak Hill, listening to the dawn chorus was magical.  I was amazed at how easy I found it to walk and run.  I was convinced at this point that  I would exceed my 'stretch target' of 70 miles with ease.  I sent Husbando a text to say that I was up and running and suggested breakfast might be a good idea after lap 11 (my next lap) and merrily set off for my next lap.

Such bravado was short lived.  Before I got to the 2k marker I was convinced that if I didn't get a cup of tea and a slice of millionaire's shortbread soon I would actually die.  Not a metaphorical death, an actual death.  Trouble was that the laps are 8km long.  Even in the state I was in, I knew that I had a fair way to go before I could get my hand on a cup of tea.  It wasn't until later that I realised that I had probably hit the wall.  This had never happened to me.  All I knew was that a) I needed tea and millionaire's shortbread and b) if I stopped moving for an instant it would be impossible for me to start moving again.  I plodded on, repeating the phrase 'relentless forward progress' in my head - at least I hope it was in my head!  Just after the 7k marker, or just before I'm not sure, another solo runner asked me if I was OK.  I said yes, but he was wise to me.  The fact that I was swaying and actually closing my eyes much in the same way you sometimes do on a long motor way drive only to jerk awake seconds later may have been a clue.  He walked with me and talked at me to get me back to the race village.  I don't know his name, but if anyone does, please pass on my heartfelt thanks.  I know that, if the St John's Ambulance people had picked me up instead of him, there would have been a very real possibility of them stopping me running altogether.  He was running to raise money for Royal Star and Garter Homes and had walking poles with him - so if you know him please tell him that I say thank you!  It says something about how out of it I was that I struggled to recognise my best friend at the end of this lap!  She was waiting for a team mate to finish so she could go out on her lap but called out to me as I finished... I sort of waved at her (to be polite) but the person I recognised was standing behind her - Mr K - who has  run Comrades twice (back to back years) and who is one of my running inspirations.


Tea and millionaire's shortbread with Husbando followed.  These accompanied by a handful of salt and vinegar crisps and a banana seemed to do the trick.  I had completed 11 laps, 13 laps would mean I had run over 100km (65 miles).  But I don't like uneven numbers, so I was determined to push on to do 14 laps and 70 miles.  That meant 3 more laps and I had nearly 5 hours left on the clock. I walked lap 12 with a friend, only running a couple of the downhill sections, walk ran lap 13 - this lap was followed with a quick second (or was it third or fourth?) breakfast with Husbando and the friend I now recognised, before setting out to walk run, the last lap.  It was simultaneously sad and a relief to think that this was the last time I would run through Faraway Forest and Shotgun City, Little Steep and Heartbreak Hill would no longer be something to anticipate with dread.  I made a point of thanking all the marshals who had supported us throughout the 24 hours.  I crossed the line about 10 minutes before the 24 hours up.  Technically I could have gone out for a 15th lap, but I'd achieved what I wanted to do, as Husbando said, 75 would be a tougher target to beat next time.  The finish was great, but not as great as the start, although it did have the distinct advantage that it meant I didn't have to spend the next day running!

And, talking about next time.... On Friday evening when Husbando suggested we got together with friends and entered a team I thought this was a brilliant idea.  By Sunday lunchtime I was convinced that the only way I would want to do this event was as a solo runner.  It was incredibly tough, mentally more than physically, at times, but I really enjoyed the feeling of camaraderie amongst the runners and the ability to run (or walk) when I wanted to rather than to a schedule.  Hopefully we'll sort out a team for him and I enter as a solo.  I've tried to sell this to him on the basis that we can run some laps together this way... we shall see...

A HUGE thank you to all the people who helped me out.  Looking back it all seems to have happened a long time ago, and it felt like a real break from the world.  I don't think I heard the 'R' work mentioned once, although the football did intrude somewhat with a massive screen showing the England:Russia match!  I've learnt so many lessons that should, hopefully, ensure I enjoy any future 24 hour race even more than this one.

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!

Rubix Chilly Hilly - first race of the year.

 When I ran this route at the end of last year, in the dark and the rain, I distinctly remember ordering some dry weather.  What we got instead was almost constant rain for the whole of January.  And this morning was rainy too - so I looked out my rainy weather running gear, i.e. normal running gear plus a water proof jacket that I know will annoy me within about half a mile of starting running as I will a) overheat and b) the rustling noise will drive me nuts!

I dragged a friend along to share the joy with me.  We arrived in plenty of time, parked, looked at the weather and pondered our sanity.  But we were there and seemingly nothing better to do than run 10 hilly and muddy kilometres before lunch time!  This was the first Chilly Hilly race, and it was organised by a good running friend of mine who had assured me that the Rubix in the race title did not mean we had to complete a Krypton Factor style challenge before we were allowed to cross the finish line, it referred to one of the sponsors of the race.

About 250 runners assembled at the start and were soon under starters orders.  In my memory, the start was a gentle downhill, but in actuality it was a slight upwards slope that very quickly became a fairly vertiginous climb.  Running the route in the dark had the benefit of one not being able to see just how much uphill there still was ahead, today the hills seemed to go on and on.  The 'paths' were challenging too.  So much thick, squelch, sucking mud that tried to pull shoes off with every step!  The downhill sections were no easy option either - one misplaced foot could spell disaster, or at the very least a bruised bum and a loss of dignity.  I kept repeating to myself that the first half was tougher than the second!


The marshals were friendly and encouraging - it can't have been much fun for them standing in the rain and wind, and there was only one point where I thought I might have gone wrong as I couldn't see anyone ahead of me!  At this point I somehow managed to lose a contact lenses which made depth perception something of a challenge, but I only had two more miles to go!  The camaraderie amongst the runners was great - chatting briefly as we slipped and sploshed around the course and soon we were nearly at the end.  A sharp left turn, down a steep hill and the finish was in sight.... but required a detour onto some rather lovely tarmac and virtually a full circuit of the finish area before we could cross the finish line. I threw my self across the line, just managing to bag a sub one hour time (59:59 -11th female) and hugged the race director before being handed my medal and a raffle ticket.    

The chilli, provided by RKdia Catering, was excellent.  Just what was required on a cold wet day!  As was the plentiful tea from All About Tea.  We stood around and chatted with friends while we waited for the raffle to be drawn.  We didn't win, but that really didn't matter.  We'd had a lovely morning, running in a wonderful country park, in awful weather, and getting a fabulous medal too!  I will definitely be signing up again next year!  Well done to everyone involved and thank you!

Now there is just the matter of getting rid of all that mud!

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.  

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.  

Farnham Pilgrim Half Marathon

Until yesterday morning I was considering not going for a long run today.  My training plan said that I should run 15 miles, but I was tired and achey.  A new job  and marathon training will do that to you.  The new job is great, but I am still at the rabbit in the headlights stage, where lots of things seem to take longer than normal.  Until this weekend I  hadn't been to bed before midnight since the beginning of term.   Then, at parkrun yesterday morning, we talking about autumn marathons.  'You could do the Farnham Pilgrim tomorrow if you were feeling really keen,' said a friend.  I said, that would be nice but the Farnham Pilgrim wasn't until next week, and I knew that because I was signed up for the half.  Turns out that he was right and I was wrong.  

I don't do trail running.  I like a nice bit of tarmac.  I don't mind hills, but running through mud, dodging puddles, avoiding tree roots is too much like bloody hard work if you ask me!  But... I'd paid £21 to enter the race, and I was supposed to run anyway, so scratching my head and trying to recall why I had signed up, I went to dig out my trail shoes.  My mood wasn't improved by the weather forecast.  Heavy rain and gales.  That made up my mind, this wasn't going to be a race, it was just going to be a run with a medal at the end.   I would wear 3/4 length running tights and a t shirt rather than a club vest and shorts, and take my 'phone with me so that I could stop and take pictures if the mood took me.  

The weather this morning was lovely, but I didn't really take that on board until I arrived at the venue.  I got there early enough to see friends who were running the marathon off on their way.  The start area was well organised, and I met up with various friends and chatted and passed the time for an hour until it was time for the half marathon to start.  The first mile was downhill and on tarmac.  Lovely!  I knew that there were hills aplenty coming up - see my Garmin thingy for confirmation - so I didn't go hell for leather. 

We were soon off road, and uphill!  For lots of stretches it was strictly single file, which was nice as it meant that you could just relax and run at the pace of the guy in front.  There were also stiles and gates, lots of them.  These involved standing in a queue, which was either quite nice because it gave me a chance to get my breath back after a hill, or a real nuisance because I'd just got into a nice rhythm and knew that it would be hard to get going again.  Also, I hate stiles!  Was jealous of the long legged men who seemed to jump effortlessly over them while I struggled.  Running through one village (ah tarmac!) we had the added obstacle of trying to pass a group of riders on skittish horses, and at another point we encountered a group of motorcyclists we had to weave our way around - it seemed that everyone was out to enjoy the sunshine today.

I'd been warned about a hill at 8 miles, that was steep and on sand.  8 miles came and went without much of a hill, but I did see an old friend who was marshalling and managed to lose a contact lens!  Running with only one eye functioning properly is interesting.  The blur is oddly distracting, and loss of 3D vision means that depth perception is non existent.  That's fine on lovely smooth tarmac, but a bit tricky on uneven trails.  This slowed me down a bit. 

Then came The Hill.  I tried to run all the way up it, I really did.  But it was a fairly steep hill (between 9 and 10 miles on the Garmin trace I think) and it was on sand.  I really think that I might have been able to run all the way up the hill, albeit very slowly, had there not been people walking all around me. It was almost as though it was OK to walk if they were.  I didn't loose too much time, and I had time in the bank.  I had a time in mind that I would be happy with.  A friend, who is a much better runner than me, said she had run this race last year in 2hrs 24mins.  I wanted to do better than that time.  (She ran again this year, taking nearly 26mins off that time).   The views from the top of the hill may have been lovely, if I'd had two eyes to see them! 

The downhills were steep and slippery, so no going full pelt to make up time.  The final 2 miles of the race were a steady, but not steep, uphill drag.  The last 3/4m being on tarmac.  I was amazed that I was overtaking people in the last 2 miles.  Running up the road through the village meant dodging some impatient drivers, one of them pulled right across the road forcing me to squeeze myself through an impossibly small gap - I bashed his 4x4 with my water bottle as I passed him.  

And then we were turning into the field we'd started from.  Not quite a sprint finish, but I did up the pace a bit.  As I crossed the line my name was called out - I do like that, makes me feel like a bit of superstar.  At the finish there were lots of people to place medals around our necks, so much nicer than having to dig around in a goody bag to find one.  There were soft drinks, and a vast array of cakes for finishers.  I bumped into the person who, I suddenly remembered, was responsible for me signing up for the race (doesn't take much - just wave an entry form in front of me), he was handing out cakes.   

In addition to a fab medal (on a purple ribbon!) we also got a great t-shirt and mug.   I am still a Road Runner, I am afraid of the woods, and can't say I 'enjoyed' today's little run.  It was a brilliantly organised event though, there were loads of helpful, friendly marshals, more water (and cake) stations than I have ever seen at an event and the Start/Finish area was superbly organised with a great atmosphere.  The countryside is stunning, the entry price is reasonable, I got to see friends I haven't seen for a while.  All in all a good morning out - and it didn't rain until after I finished!