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!

.  

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.

The one where I started too fast and just kept going.

So, what does one do after running a marathon?  Rest, get a massage, eat all the food in the county?  I did the second and third, in fact I am continuing to do the third item on that list as I type, but I was also signed up for a race today.  I've done the Bupa 10,000m every year for the last six so I wasn't going to let a little thing like change of sponsors stop me running it again.  Despite the fact that it is now the Vitality 10,000m most people (me included) still seem to be calling it by its old name!

After a beautifully warm day yesterday, with no running (don't Sunday's seem very long with no running and no prep work for school the next day?) this morning was cold and grey.  I hastily shoved a pair of long tights into my race bag and headed off to London town.  Every station saw more lycra clad bodies embark.  I snoozed and faffed around on my phone, I groaned as I stepped down from the train as my quads screamed at me, groaned some more (ok, lots more) as I struggled down the steps to the ladies' loos and was instantly cheered when I saw that the barrier had been propped open so that I could just walk in rather than paying 30p to spend a penny!  And there was loo roll!  The day was looking up!

The lovely Caz being photo bummed

Thence, on the underground, to Green Park.  To say it was congested would be an understatement.  I suspect that the situation wasn't helped by the inability of the vast majority of the runners to walk up the escalator!  The Jubilee Line isn't a deep station.  Arriving in Green Park the feeling of congestion continued - it was very busy.  By chance I bumped into some friends and saw some sights that can't be unseen!  Still - we had a giggle, proving that we are totally mature and respectable.   It was jolly chilly as we hung around, so pretty quickly we decided to stow our bags and think about warming up.  We got separated on the way to the bag drop - as I spotted another friend and went over to say hello, so I dropped my bag and joined the loo queue.  It was a HUGE queue and there were only 25 minutes until the start of the race.  I wasn't convinced I would make it to the front of the queue before I needed to start running - so when I saw yet another friend I left the queue and went with them to the start, convincing myself I really didn't need that last nervous wee!

John in a moonlit Green Park

In previous years each starting pen has been separated into three zones: A, B and C.  That was not the case this year so each pen contained runners with vastly different anticipated finish times.  I was in the front starting pen - a first for me - and feeling far from confident.  I was pointed in the direction of 'my friend' and looked over to see another brave soul/total idiot in a Kent Roadrunner vest.  I must have seen him several times on Saturday - but we hadn't actually met before.  We chatted, had a photo taken, agreed that we were both as mad as a box of frogs.  I explained that I was going to try to maintain my marathon pace (about 9min/mile) and see if I could survive.

And then we were off.  After about 400m I looked at my watch and though 'Woah lady!  Ease off!' so I did, only managing to slow down to 7.57 for the first mile.  It hurt, it hurt a lot, but I was able to move.  I clicked through the miles (I don't do kilometres!) and they were all under 8min/mile.  I was astounded.  I kept waiting for the wheels to come off, but they didn't.  I passed a runner with a shirt that said 'Race official - do not pass' on the back.  I got to the 5km mark in about 24.50 and though - I can do 10 minute miles now and still be under an hour! But I just carried on running.  Back along the Strand, down past the Houses of Parliament and then round to Birdcage Walk and the '800m to go' sign.  That was when the wheels really started to wobble.   I was not going to slow down now, but I really struggled to keep going.  I swear that the gap between the 800m and the 400m signs was well over 700m.  At the 400m sign I could see the 200m sign, and by the time I got to the 100m sign I could see the wonderful, beautiful finish.  I didn't care about the scenic backdrop of Buckingham Palace - all I had eyes for was that finish mat!  I was done.  And in under 50 minutes.  Far better than I'd anticipated!

The medal is quite nice - double sided, and the goody bag wasn't too shabby.  I still think the old route, through Leadenhall Market and along the Embankment, was better, but to be honest I was too busy concentrating on running to take in the sights!  Next year is the 10th running of this race - so no doubt I'll be back again.

A tale of sacrificial buffs and over reliance on technology.

 I had a score to settle with this race.  Last year I had an awful time and had sworn that I would never enter it again.  That resolve lasted all of about 5 minutes as a friend threatened to snag my number if I didn't do it!  I wanted to run this year's event for fun.  At Paris in April  I had put myself under enormous pressure to run a sub 4 marathon, which for various reasons did not happen.  I was despondent and very self critical for a while.  Yesterday I decided that I was just going to go out and run - I gave myself permission to walk from the cones on 'Tourette's Hill' to the fence at the top if I wanted to.  I did not print a pace band as I did not want to feel I had a target to meet.

It was cold and raining when we arrived at the Cyclopark.  When I'd packed my bag I had relied on the BBC Weather forecast so had no rain jacket, thankfully I'd thrown a cap in at the very last minute, so it was sunglasses off and cap on.  I set off with the friend I ran with last year.  We chatted and ran, ran and chatted and, for me, the time was passing very pleasantly.  Not so for her unfortunately.  It turned out to be a reversal of last year - we parted company at about 11 miles again, having averaged around 8.50 min/miles, I left my friend by the personal drink station table we had set up and ran on alone.  It had stopped raining just before the start of the race and had become warm and humid but still overcast.  On one of the slight inclines of the lapped course there was a slight breeze which was lovely, after that it was a downhill towards two of the most amazing marshals ever - Neil and Les - I asked them to keep a look out for my friend and next time round was reassured that she was doing OK.  After this, on 20 consecutive laps, came Tourette's Hill.  Let me assure you, it is wisely named!  The stretch up to the finish area is slightly uphill - but enlivened by two aid stations, loads of supporters, including the most energetic, loud, curly haired girl on the bridge who was cheering and shouting out names as we passed below.

I was feeling good, I'd settled into a steady 9min/mile pace (according to my watch) that I was more than happy with and just settled down to keep on until the end.  In my mind I knew that 9 min/mile pace would give me just sub 4hrs, just enough sub 4hrs to allow, I hoped, for Garmin's notorious inaccuracy on lapped courses.  I slowed down a few times to check that other runners were OK - a friend from Basingstoke parkrun had lapped me a couple of times, so I was shocked when I lapped him.  We had a brief chat then, and I seem to recall that, later on, I walked backwards up a hill while asking him if he was ok!  I slowed again to help a lady who felt sick.  I say 'help,' what I actually did was stop, ask if she was OK, ask if she would like some water, gave her my water bottle and then ran on.  Half a lap later I remembered that it was my favourite water bottle and I had no idea who she was!

At some point the heaven't opened and we got a proper drenching!  I felt sorry for the supporters then as standing around in the rain is far more miserable than running in it.  I don't think it lasted longand after the rain we had bright, hot sunshine and a lot less humidity!  This is where having a personal drinks station was great - it meant I could change from cap to sunnies and back again without deviating from the route.  I was running and chatting and smiling and running - having a great time.  My right quad, which had been tight all week, was still tight, but that was more than countered by the pain in my left foot from the Morton's neuroma, so at least I was fairly balanced!   The new course, shorter laps but more of them, was great, the laps seemed to tick by very quickly.

There's a saying amongst long distance runners, 'Never trust a fart after 20 miles.'  With this in mind I took advantage of the conveniently located, track side, portaloos.   Too late I realised that there was no loo roll!  This was a bit of a catastrophe. I had a £10 note in my pocket (although I'd forgotten about that at the time) but there wasn't a scrap of anything remotely loo roll like anywhere to hand.  I considered sacrificing a sock - but with about 6 miles to go that seemed like the way to ensure blisters.  Then I saw my lovely, lovely White Star Running buff around my wrist.  Needs must etc.  I can buy a new one.  I have long thought that some one should make a buff which has a perforated strip along one end for just this sort of situation.

Back out on the road again, I found my legs had started to stiffen up a little during my comfort break.  I looked at my watch and figured I should be able to get sub 4 if I could just maintain my pace.  I realised too late (i.e. the end of my penultimate lap) that my Garmin was way off the mark and that I wouldn't be able to get back enough time in one lap!  According to Garmin, I passed the 26.2 mark in 3hrs 57min - but I still had a way to go.  I eventually got to the finish line in 4hrs 4mins and some seconds with my lying Garmin reading 26.9 miles.

Oddly, given how upset I was after Paris, I was not at all disappointed.  I'd set out to have a good time, not to run a good time.  I'd had a great time running with amazing people, supported by yet more amazing people and my time wasn't too shabby either!  It had been my most evenly paced marathon to date too, not perfect by any means - but there is no 18 mile dip in pace (this is normally where I get bored with the idea of running and my pace plummets).  So all in all a good day at the office.  I was given my humungous medal, my quirky goody bag, brand new and gorgeous buff (that will never be sacrificed!) bottle of beer and went to have my photo taken by the amazing Stuart, who can make a silk purse out of a sow's ear and me look halfway decent after a 26.2 miles.  Then it was time for a quick, painful, sports massage with a lovely student from the University of Kent before going back outside to chat and cheer and support other runners.

This is such a lovely race for chatting with and getting to know other people.  You see the supporters every time you go around the track, they feel like members of your family by the end.  If you are suffering they will give you a hug and a few words of encouragement to spur you on your way.  I remember thinking that the runners were all really considerate and polite.  There was lots of lapping going on, but there runners seemed to pass each other without any of the agro you sometimes see in big city races and, dare I say it, parkrun.

So, a HUGE thank you to all at tzruns, and to all the marshals and supporters, especially the girl with curly hair on the bridge.  You are all amazing and I had a great time.  Same again next year?   I can't wait that long, so will be back in Kent for the first Kent Coyote marathon in September.

A day of firsts.

I don't really know where to start with this blog entry.  I have so much that I want to write and I know I will forget to say something or muddle things up.  So grab yourself a cup of tea, because I think this might be a long one!

Yesterday was the inaugural 'Wickham Whistler,'  the first race organised by On The Whistle.  It was a timed challenge event rather than a traditional race.  The basic premise is that you have 6 hrs to complete as many laps (3.5 miles each) as you want.  You can complete one lap and still get a fantastic medal or you can carry on (and on).   This type of event is an awesome way for runners of all abilities to take part - everyone is a winner!  The venue was a winner too, taking place on the Meon Valley Trail which is a discussed railway line and very scenic.

We pitched up to the start area at about 8.30am, collected our numbers, 69 for me, 70 for Husbando (who quipped that he wants more than 69), and wandered into Wickham to grab some breakfast.  The Village Bakery was open so we grabbed a cheese and bacon pastry and a cup of coffee each and sat in the sun commenting on the fact that this probably wasn't the best pre-race nutrition strategy, but it was very tasty, and as we had some coffee left it might be a good idea to grab a Belgian bun too.  Having removed tell tale crumbs from our clothing we wandered back to the start area, said hello to a few people we recognised and waited for the race brief.  It was great to talk to Steve from Film My Run - I've seen him at several races, but this was the first time I'd actually 'met' him (his film of the race can be seen here).  The race was started, obviously, with the blowing of a whistle.

We ran out...

Husbando, having decided that he will run his first marathon in Paris next spring, decided that this would be the first time he had run a half marathon since he was 17!  Off we went with 148 other runners, on a lovely sunny morning.  The outward leg was ever so slightly up hill, the inbound leg ever so slightly down hill - not so much that, in the early stages, it had any noticeable impact on pace. When approaching an ultra my normal approach is to start slow, and get slower slowly.  But we were running a half marathon.  We set off at a comfortable pace - somewhere around the 8.40min/mile pace, chatting with runners near us, and generally having a lovely time.  I did a strip tease part way through the first lap - it was far too hot to be wearing a long sleeved top under my tshirt - thankfully I seem to have done this well away from anyone with a camera.  Back at 'base camp' we grabbed a drink and some sweets and then went out and did it all again (minus the strip tease)!

…and we ran back

I've been suffering with Morton's Neuroma, mainly in my left foot, but sometimes in the right one too.  This was a two footed pain day.  As long as I am careful, and stick to fairly smooth ground under my foot the pain is manageable, it is when I stand on a bumpy stone that it gets 'owy'!  This meant that, on a packed gravel path, I had to tread carefully.

At the end of lap 2 we realised we had covered 7 miles - so the laps were longer than advertised.  Suddenly Husbando wasn't just running his first marathon since he was a teenager (i.e. a very long time ago), he was also running his longest run ever.  We hit 10 miles in 1hr 25(ish) minutes, and the half marathon (13.1 miles) distance in 1hr 53mins - not a bad time, but not a great start to an ultra!  Husbando found the last lap tough going - groin pain was complained about at one point - but we still managed to pick up a bit of pace at the end of the lap to finish the '14 mile half marathon' in 2.01.23.  He rang the bell, and received his medal - I hung around for a few minutes for hugs and celebratory photos and another handful of Haribos before setting off on my own.

He's done it!

This is the bit I hadn't been looking forward to.  We'd spent the first 4 laps chatting to each other and having brief conversations with other runners as they ran in the other direction, but I was now very conscious that I was all by myself.  And I had at least another 14 miles to run.  I made a conscious effort to slow down, at 16.35miles I was lapped for the first time - we had a little chat as he ran past me - and I was aware that one of the 2 ladies in front of me had stopped running.  This event was not about 'winning,' but the competitive part of me couldn't help but think I might be the second lady.  At the end of lap 5, having collected yet another hair band from the very helpful children handing them out, I saw the other lady sitting by the aid station with a medal around her neck.  She'd run 17 miles and decided to call it quits.  Now all I had to do was to keep running and not get lapped by any of the women and I could get my name closer to the top of a results table than ever before.

Last lap selfie!

Where did I put the lap bands?

Half way through lap 6 I met up with Ian and Helen, and asked if I could run with them.  They explained that they were run/walking - 9 minutes running/1 minute walking, but I was welcome to join them.  We had a great time, talking about everything from hypnobirthing to Everest Base Camp and the miles flew by.  We had 'lunch' at the end of lap 7 - an extended stop at the aid station, where I tried to inhale as many Haribos as possible (lots) and we chatted with other runners.  Back on the course, the other runners looked to be having as much fun as we were, there was lots of encouraging exchanges and friendly banter.  I hit 26.3miles in 4hrs 19 minutes - not bad for a 'for the fun of it/messing around and stopping to pig out marathon!'  I was a lap ahead of Ian and Helen and had told them that I was going to do a marathon (28 miles) and then a victory lap.  I said that I would let them go ahead at this point as I was going to take it slowly 5 mins running/5 mins walking.  In the end I got bored 2 minutes into a walk break so decided to run for 10mins at walk for 2!  During my 'victory lap' I had my first ever compliment on my running style.  The lovely man who finished a lap ahead of everyone said that he was glad to have caught up with me as he wanted to tell me that I had an 'amazing running style!'  He said I looked so 'relaxed and fluid and comfortable!'  That made my day as I approached what I thought would be my last turnaround point and kept me going as I flew (=hobbled, swore as feet landed on sticky up stones that I couldn't work out how to avoid) towards the 31.5 mile mark where I planned to finish (time on my watch 5hrs 14mins) and there was Husbando!

I had every intention of stopping, I honestly did, but the naughty race director told me that I had loads of time to do another lap. 31.5 miles would be my longest run so would have been a great achievement, but 35 miles is a more pleasing number, and 10 laps sounds so much better than 9.  Husbando was still in his running gear (he'd been off to do some work and came back to pick me up) so I said we should walk the last lap together.  I started my Garmin again and off we went.   We started walking and then tried to run - I think I had stopped/walked for too long to run easily again, and Husbando was feeling the miles he'd done that morning too.   It was lovely to do one final lap - this lap was so quiet compared to the the previous laps.  Husbando and I took our time and took some photos, I still managed what felt like a sprint finish, but was probably more of a ponderous wobble, to the finish line and, finally, rang the 'I quit' bell.  Sweaty hugs all round - followed by a medal, some Haribos and a drink!   My watch said 6hrs 01min - but I knew that the eventual time would be a bit longer as I'd stopped it before the last lap, the results table shows me finishing in 6hrs 03mins and 55secs - I am more than happy with that!

This was an amazing day out.  I had worried that the backwards and forwards laps would be mind numbingly dull, but the runners and marshals were all so friendly that time just flew.  Breaking a marathon down into laps makes it much more manageable than counting individual miles (even when that marathon is 28 miles long!)  I haven't had so much fun running for a long time.  Most people I saw were laughing and smiling and running well all the way through the event.  The organisation was brilliant - a lovely low key event that was run by runners for runners.   Sadly I am on holiday when On The Whistle will be holding their next event, The World Emoji Day Run, but it looks like fun and the medals are going to be awesome.  I reckon this one will be a sell out too, just like yesterday's race.

Turn around scarecrow!

What a difference a year makes….

I have a goal this year.  I want to run a sub four hour marathon.  I've worked hard, lost weight and run 20 miles in a time that indicates I am capable of achieving this ambition.  I ran a PB at Paris last year  and really enjoyed my race, so had psyched myself up for a repeat performance this time.  

The trip started well, I arrived at St Pancras and discovered that I could upgrade my seat for very little money.  Arriving in Paris I went straight to the Expo to collect my race number and try, unsuccessfully, to avoid the temptation of so many pretty, shiny running related goodies!  I bought a pair of compression tights, some t-shirts, a fridge magnet, some no tie shoe laces and a cap.  I went past the stand giving out free Haribos several times... 

From there, I went to my friend's house in Saint Gratien.  I had persuaded my old university friend that he should run a  marathon and this was to be his first marathon.  I kept thinking that this was a much better marathon to do as a first one than my first marathon in Abingdon.  The atmosphere and the crowds would be much more exciting!  We hadn't seen each other for a while so there was a fair amount of catching up and chatting to be done.  

On Friday I went sight seeing!  I love Paris - but dispute the self proclaimed tag of 'the most beautiful city in the World.'  It does have many stunningly beautiful sights, but it is also pretty grubby, with ankle twistingly uneven pavements littered with doggy land mines!  I try to see one new 'thing' every time I visit, so after a trip to Shakespeare and Company and an excellent steak frites sitting outside I went to visit the Musée Carnavalet.  A lovely museum, located near Notre Dame, that details the history of Paris.  Unlike the better known museums it was virtually deserted.  I spent a couple of hours wandering around trying to decipher the French labels!  

Saturday morning meant that it was time for the Paris Breakfast Run.   A 5km run from Ave Foch to the Eiffel Tower with coffee and croissant at the finish.  I had thought about running the new Bois de Boulogne parkrun  but decided to leave that for another trip.  The weather for this run was perfect, overcast and cool.  I crossed my fingers that the weather forecasts were wrong and that the weather would stay the same for Sunday.  I ran with my friend, a nice gentle leg stretch with a bit of a sprint at the end.  I ran and took photos and chatted to marathon buddies and strangers.  Great fun!  

Then it was back to Saint Gratien to take it easy for the rest of the day, a trip to the supermarket to stock up on Haribos - you can't buy a Happy Box in England and every home should have a Happy Box!  Dinner that evening was not what I would have chosen - but that is part and parcel of staying with friends.  Let's just say, I don't usually eat cauliflower and chickpea curry and avoid spicy food the day before long runs!  I slept badly, woke up with a burbly tummy about an hour before my 6am alarm went off and lay looking at the ceiling visualising how I would feel finishing the marathon.  I got up and got dressed - leaving the house as quietly as possible.  My friend's start time was an hour later than mine, so there was no point in him coming in with me.  

Security was much more in evidence than last year.  Hardly surprising in light of recent events!  I went through the security, queued for the loo, discovered that buffs serve as excellent face masks to mask some of the odour of a portaloo, came out of the portaloo, took one look at the queue and rejoined it!  Just in time logistics.  In this second visit to the loo I realised too late that the pocket in my running shorts was not closed - as my Shot Blocks fell into the toilet bowl.  Not good.  But not a lot I could do about that really!

I went to the starting pen and managed to find a group of people speaking English.  This group included an American lady who kept telling me that this would be easy as she 'did Ironman,' that this was 'just a walk in the park' and wasn't going to be an 11 hour day so what was there to worry about.  I wanted to get away.   The Champs Elysées is an excellent place to start a race.  Long enough, and wide enough for us all to start from the same point (unlike London).   As soon as we were off I reminded myself that the start was slightly downhill and that I had to make sure I didn't go off to fast,  I didn't.  I felt fantastic.  I was going to bloody do this!   At about 2.5 miles I saw a sea of blue and yellow on the right hand side - it was the Hatch Warren Running Club support crew.  I was on the other side of the road, so I veered across shouting 'Hello Hatchies!' and was met with a roar of support.  

On we went to the Place de la Bastille, more cobbles and the first water/food station.  In light of my dodgy tummy and the fact that I'd lost my Shot Blocks I decided to eat whatever I could grab (bananas and raisins) and to grab some water to replenish my water bottle.  I noticed a pain in the balls of both my feet at around 5 miles - but decided that there was little I could do about it, my laces were not too tight - I had no idea what was causing it, but apart from the occasional really "ouchy" moment it was manageable.  I had 2 pace bands with me, one for 3.49 and one for 3.59.  I was hitting the times for the faster band with about 30-45 seconds to spare, but I felt really strong at this point.  I passed a runner in a Macmillan cancer top soon after this - he recognised my KRR top and called out to me.  We ran together and chatted for several miles, his pace was slightly slower than mine, and I was conscious that was itching to go faster - so we parted company.  

I hit the halfway point on target for 3.48 and still felt good.  I was going to get my sub 4, I was sure of it!  And then we got to about 14 miles and the heat and my stomach got the better of me.  I had a loo stop.  The sun was full on now and there was very little shade.  The sapeurs pompiers were out with their hoses to spray us down, but the relief was fleeting.  Now everything that I had enjoyed about he marathon last year seemed to irritate me this year.  The crowds encroached onto the road, in the absence of any barriers and very few marshals there were several points where the course narrowed dramatically - at times you could not get more than three 'runners' running at the same time - and this meant slowing to a walk.  The water stations were like running through fruit salad - avoiding slipping on banana skins, avoiding colliding with other runners as everything was on one side of the road.  

Did I mention it was hot?  It was very hot.  I was aware that my pace was slipping and I chewed through the 3.49 pace band so I could discard it, why aren't pace bands edible?  That way you could have a consoling snack when it all goes tits up!  I needed another loo stop.  This was not good. 

At around 16 miles the race goes underground.  A long underpass that had some sort of essential oil aromas wafting through it in an attempt to mitigate the stench of pee.  The lack of satellite reception meant that I couldn't really rely on my Garmin for accurate information.  This wouldn't have been an issue if there had been mile markers every mile - but they were intermittent.  I plodded on.  Coming out of another underpass (shorter this time) I was losing the will to live when I heard a cry of 'There she is!' and somehow knew that the shout was for me.  I turned and saw the Hatchies again.  It was just the lift I needed at that point.  

On I went, it felt hotter than ever.  At 30km there was a 'wall.'  Hoarding on either side of the road with bricks painted on it.  It said '30k wall' on one side and '20mile wall' on the other side.  I run in miles not km, I had lost satellite reception for long enough not to know how accurate my Garmin distance was, and here was a sign saying I'd run 20 miles!  Yay!  Only 6 and a bit to go!  And then about half a mile later there was the 19mile marker at the side of the road.  Despondent does not come close to describing how I felt about being 'robbed' of over a mile.  I know that if I had thought about it I'd have realised that 30km isn't 20 miles - but maths while running isn't my strong point. 

On we went, eventually getting to the Bois du Boulogne.  In my memory this was close to the end - but in reality you spend miles and miles in the Bois.  And the spectators are few and far between.  I'd kissed goodbye to sub 4 hours now too and was feeling very sorry for myself.  Then I realised how many ambulances I'd seen, how many people were being looked after by the Red Cross, and thought that at least I was still upright and moving forward.  I overtook one of the 3.45hr pacers at some point in this long, soulless stretch of running - so I wasn't the only person having a bad day!  At around 40km I felt a tap on my shoulder.  It was the Ironman running American lady from the start pen.  I decided that she would not be finishing in front of me, so concentrated on running rather than shuffling for the last couple of kilometres (more cobbles, and did I mention it was hot?)  

Finally there were supporters again!  I was nearly there!  Back on the Ave Foch with only 195m to go - I picked up the pace, desperate to get this purgatory over with.  I crossed to line and smashed into the back of another runner who had come to a dead stop the minute he stepped over the finish mat!   I got my medal, retrieved my bag, texted Husbando, misread a text from him (I thought that he had come over to surprise me and my heart sank when I realised that I had totally misunderstood what he was saying).  I walked along sobbing.  I was so disappointed with my time (4hrs 6mins).  It felt as though I had thrown away a perfectly good chance at a PB.  

I retreated to a friend's hotel room for a shower and a sob, and a chance to update Facebook!  I found a silver lining - I'd caught the sun, so have made a start on my summer tan, but that was about the only positive I could find.  After showering I felt a little better - cooler anyway, and struggled into my new compression tights which I topped with the lurid green finisher top.  I was glad that I'd remembered to bring my FitFlops with me as I wasn't sure my feet would fit back inside my trainers! The Hatch Warren supporters were close to l'Arc de Triomphe and I bumped into them on my way back to the race village, I thanked them for their support, had a hug and burst into tears again!  Then, having had a look at the marathon tracker app, I thought it might be possible to get to the bottom of the Ave Foch to see if I could see any of my friends finishing, so set out and walked almost to the end of the avenue before I realised that I wasn't going to be able to battle my way through the crowds to get close to the front, and that I'd probably missed most of them anyway!   

I trudged back up Ave Foch and decided that I was really rather peckish!  I found somewhere to eat, and texted my friend to tell him where I was.  Another steak frites with a large beer was called for!  It was very good.  I chatted with other marathoners while I waited.  One bloke, who thought he recognised me (and may well do as he belongs to a Reading based running club) had missed his target massively.  When his mum asked him what went wrong, he said it was more a case of, 'What didn't go wrong?'  And that seemed to be a theme; lots of people not doing as well as they'd hoped.

I was halfway through my meal when I spotted my friend approaching the restaurant.  I jumped out of my seat and ran, yes, I really did run - surprised myself too, towards him, nearly knocking him over as I gave him a hug!  Then I bought him a beer, shared my Café Gourmand with him and talked about his first marathon.

Two days later, back at home, and with a couple of recovery runs under my belt, I am still disappointed.  It gives me some hope that lots of runners were 25-30 mins adrift from their target times, but I worked really hard in the build up to this race, and felt that I had a really good chance of achieving my objective.  Ah well, there are other races!  On a positive note I have now run 10 marathons (OK, 8 marathons and 2 ultras!) so I reckon I have the marathon bug!

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!