Hmm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surrey Half Marathon

Now, living in deepest, darkest Hampshire means that one doesn't often see Tai Chi outside of a sports hall.  When we lived in London it seemed that alfresco Tai Chi  in Holland Park was de rigueur.  I was delighted to spot this gentleman in Woking Park this morning.  I was glad that I had arrived early and had a few moments to watch him.

The journey into Woking was easy, the race village opened at 7am and the road closures didn't come into force until 8am.  I parked easily, and followed the throng of lycra clad bodies to the venue.  I knew I'd arrived early as there was no queue for the loos!  The sun was shining and, while it was chilly, I decided that a vest top and shorts would suffice.  Having arrived early, I had no I had no problems checking my bag at the baggage storage in the leisure centre.  When I left the warmth of the leisure centre to make my way to the start the queues just to get in were huge.  I think many of them may have been late to the start.

I chatted briefly with a much faster parkrun friend before he battled his way to the front starting pen and then spent a few minutes chatting with people around me before we were off.  As will all big races, it was crowded at the start, and a fair bit of weaving around people was required before I could get into a rhythm.   It may be different if you are one of the very fast runners at the front - but, as a middle of the road runner it is always a bit of a bun fight!  It was somewhat disconcerting to run towards the start and encounter photographers with tripods facing towards one - I wonder how many surprised faces will have been photographed?  There were also several traffic islands that were not well marked - it is really hard to see a kerb at ground level when running in a big group!

There was plenty of banter between runners, and there were lots of supporters dotted around the course to cheer the runners on.  On a switchback, at about 4 miles, I heard those words that every teacher dreads - especially when wearing lycra shorts - 'Hello Miss!'  I needn't have panicked too much - it was a colleague not a student who stormed past me and is probably blaming a brief conversation with me for missing out on a sub 1.40 time by 9 seconds!

I was running fairly well until about half way.  I'd forgotten to strap my foot up and it was beginning to throb gently.  I eased off the pace.  This was, after all, supposed to be an expensive training run with a medal at the end!  I decided to run the rest of the race at, what I hope will be, my marathon pace.  9min/mile.  I didn't quite manage to slow down that much, but, poorly foot aside, I felt fairly comfortable.  The route was not hilly, but there were long gentle inclines to contend with.  The miles ticked by - rather quickly, the markers seemed to be placed just before my Garmin registered each mile.

And soon we were back to where we had started!  Running to the finish I heard my name being called out by a friend.  That gave me the spur I needed to think 'sod these well disguised speed bumps' and put on a final spurt of speed to get over the line.  While not a PB (by 4 mins) I am aware that I would have been beyond thrilled with this time last spring, and it is my third consecutive sub 1.50 half marathon.  Whether I can do better at Reading is another matter.  If I don't manage it then there is always Hackney  which I am running for UNICEF.    (I'll  be blogging about running for charity in the next few weeks - I just need to collect my thoughts!)

There was no goody bag as such - but that was no bad thing.  We could collect food (mostly nutty stuff) and a drink after being given our medals.  And goody bags tend to be filled with flyers for races that I either a) already know about and am signed up for or b) know about and don't want to run.  I grabbed a sports massage from Guildford Sports Clinic before collecting my bag and heading home - getting home took me as long as running the half!  All the roads I'd used to get there were still closed and the sat nav couldn't cope with me choosing which direction I thought looked hopeful!

(Thanks to Nick for a picture of me looking just about finished!)

Bramley. Again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.  

Did they name this park after me?

A couple of Sundays ago I happened to be running around Battersea Park at about 7am.  I noticed kilometre markers on some lamp posts and decided that, if there was a race going on I'd pay to join in.  I ran a few more laps around the park looking for a race HQ, but couldn't see one, so surmised that the race had been held on Saturday.  I was wrong, as I later found out when friends posted pictures of gorgeous medals in the shape of Battersea Power Station.  I was gutted.  I made a decision to look for races that were happening in London on the Sundays where I would normally be up in town with Husbando.  The aim being to incorporate the 'race' into my long run for the week.  And to add to my bling collection.

After a very short time spent Googling, I found a 10k in Victoria Park organised by The Race Organiser.   I lived briefly in Bethnal Green and have fond memories of a vegetarian Thai restaurant where far too many bottles of wine were consumed on a regular basis, but I wasn't a runner in those days so knew very little of the area apart from the route from the Underground to our flat (past the Fire Station!) and pubs.  The plan was that I would run 3 and a bit miles to the start, run 10k and then run 3 miles back to meet Husbando for lunch. I hadn't factored in a slightly later start time to our journey, which combined with my need to get everywhere too early meant that I'd be 'cutting it fine' (i.e. arriving as registration started rather than 5 minutes before hand!) if I ran to the start.  Never mind - this meant I could take a bag with me, so that I could have warm clothes to wear while waiting.

The start area was well organised, but the start itself was a bit delayed as people were still collecting their race numbers at 9.30am - which is why it is important to allow lots of time to get such things sorted out as most people seemed to turn up at about 9.20am.  The race director managed this with good humour - encouraging us to put our iPhones away and talk to people around us!  We were soon underway.  A little congested at the start - as you can see by my face in the photo above as I try to get past other runners!  I had no plan other than to get round, I knew the course was flat so I was hopeful of getting round in about 50 minutes.  I'd run twice yesterday, parkrun plus a speedy 2 miles, so I certainly wasn't approaching this as anything other than a training run.  I ran the first mile in 7.13mins.  Oops!  I decided that 8min/miles was the pace to aim for, but couldn't make my legs go slow enough for that, so threw caution to the wind and just…er…. ran!  I didn't feel as though I was running well, it didn't feel particularly hard work, and I chatted to various other runners as our paths crossed.  I had a lovely chat with a young lass from Exeter University OTC Harriers, we worked out that she was born about 7 years after I left University of London OTC - I thought this might spur her on, but I am pleased to say that it is ULOTC:1 EUOTC nil!  Three laps meant that there was a good chance I would be lapped, and I was, on my second lap the first two runners flew past - moving so quickly that I felt as though I was standing still.  They finished in 31.16 and 32.00 respectively.

As ever I was doing running maths in my head.  'If I run 8 min/miles for the rest of the race I might get a PB.'  Later this changed to 'Crumbs, I could do 9 min/miles and still get a PB, maybe my maths is out…' Then at the very end I realised I could walk the last couple of hundred meters and still beat my PB.  But I didn't.  The thought did cross my mind - but I knew that I would feel I was cheating in order to make a subsequent PB easier to achieve.  There were three mats at the start and finish - so I started my watch before I crossed the first one and stopped it after I had crossed the last one at the end.  This meant that my chip time was even better!  47.18!  A whole 118 seconds faster than my last PB, making me 24th lady and 4th in my age category (151st overall).  Results were published quickly, and photos were available for viewing and downloading by the time I got home (having run another 6 miles and had lunch etc.) for a very reasonable £3.  The goody bag was descent - water, a juice drink, nature valley bar and some jelly bean type things, plus a medal.  All in al this was a great 10k for a very reasonable price (£13 for UKAA members).

Special thanks must go to the race photographer Basil Thornton who emailed the first picture in this blog to me as a bonus when I ordered some others.  I would never have found it as the number isn't visible and I really like it!

Now I remember why I love road running!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Doing the double.

The week between Christmas and New Year is always a strange one.  Days spent wondering what day of the week it is, staring into the fridge trying to work out what to feed the children as it surely can't be healthy for them to eat chocolate for breakfast, lunch and supper.  We have had the added drama this week of my mother in law being taken ill.  A massive stroke on Monday evening.  This has resulted in even more confusion about days of the week.

Running has, as so often, given me time to get away from it all.  Time to process ideas and think through plans.  It also helps to counter the excesses of the Christmas period.  Some people claim that a good run will get rid of a hangover.   I've never found this to be the case but I keep on trying.  

After an excellent night, which took in a 50th birthday party and then dinner with friends and rather a lot of alcohol, the idea of getting up to run seemed slightly less appealing than it had done when I had made my plans earlier in the day.  Husbando needed to pop into the antique fair at Winchester, so we'd do Winchester parkrun and then, because we could we'd go on to Southampton parkrun at 10.30am.  Husbando had run neither before, and Southampton would be a new one for me.  Luckily I sorted out my kit before going out for the night - trail shoes for Winchester and road shoes for Southampton, and clean socks just in case.   I slept in the car on the way there… I did not feel at my best… I wondered if I could volunteer as tail runner, but if I did that we might not have time for the drive between the two locations.  Strangely it didn't occur to me not to run!  

Winchester is three laps of playing fields.  It could be a fast course but, while the weather was infinitely better than last New Year's Day, it was still muddy and the course is predominantly on grass.  As we set off I remarked to Husbando that I didn't like running on grass.  'Well run on the mud then!' was the witty reply from another runner.  It felt like hard work.  My head was pounding, my stomach felt queasy and there was mud EVERYWHERE I looked!  I chatted to a runner as we struggled around the fields - I think he was one of the run directors, and watched as Husbando got further and further and further ahead of me!  I slid across the line in 25:20, got my barcode scanned, used the loos and then we got in the car and on to the M3.  

Parking at Southampton Common was straightforward and free!  I always panic about parking at new events so it is always a relief to find a space.  We walked to the start with one of the volunteers - a throng of runners, many covered in mud splatters from other local parkruns, were all making their way to the start.  I bumped into friends I have made at running events last year, which was lovely.  

After the run brief we found ourselves at the very back of the field.  This was a bit of a mistake as it took a long time to get up to a comfortable running pace.  Husbando ran with me most of the time and we chatted as we ran, both of us agreeing that it was a lovely course.  All on tarmac and a bit like an Escher painting in that we seemed to go downhill a lot more than we ran uphill.  In fact I barely noticed the uphill on the second lap.  I was beginning to feel a little more human and wishing that I could do this run some justice.  No matter - the joy of parkrun is that I can come back another time and have another go.  I haven't set myself an impossible target to beat - 24.59.  And the cafe looks nice too - but it was closed today, so a return visit is a must in 2015.

Thank you to all the volunteers, both those standing around in the cold and wind today and all the behind the scenes people who do some sort of technical wizardry that makes the results appear.  Happy New Year, may your parkruns always be full of friendship and your running shoes always dry.