Nothing really matters. Having had a significantly better nights sleep, though still awake for the majority trying to work out whether I was burning up or freezing, I really didn't care about anything. I only had one more marathon to do, and there was no Portland, or Weymouth to run through, the view would be spectacular all the way round and provided I made it to CP3 I would finish, actually provided I made it to the start I would finish! After all whats one more marathon in the great scheme of things, I'd just run two, and was still standing. Admittedly running was going to be difficult, but that bridge we would cross when we came to it.
Not even bothering with a shower, I hocked up a lump of flem the size of a small horse that was preventing me from talking, then set off for breakfast. Good news, porridge was hot. Whilst eating the briefing for group one was taking place and I learnt, among other things, that a large portion of the coast path was in the sea and we would have to make a minor detour, adding a few miles onto our route, on the bright side the last couple of miles was along a nudist beach, and we were assured the cold weather would bring them out, so like I said spectacular views!
Piling onto the minibuses for the ride back to Lulworth, things seemed rather quieter than they did on Fri, apparently everyone else was as broken as I was.
On arrival I threw my dry bag into the bus for the end and after a little more fiddling, things would happen slower today, I dibbed in and set off at a hobbly, walky wobble, after a few hundred meters we hit a huge hill, fine by me, means I can walk. Taking time to admire the view I start to notice that a few of the runners aren't caked in mud, in fact some seem to have a positive spring in their step, I then realise that these must be one day-ers and still fresh and keen for the onslaught still to come. Feeling a slight air of superiority, I think to myself, "yeh lets see you look that sprightly after two days of this!".
Now this would be a good point to explain why the pictures stopped, I could have taken some wonderful pictures, massive great hills with little strings of runners meandering up them like little hi-vis ants foraging for food. But, rather like pushing a car, once I got going to stop would be fatal, and all I had the energy to do was think how wonderful a picture it would have made then get my head down and grind on up the picturesque, massive, bloody awful thing!
Passing through the military firing range, and I shout out "Tanks there are tanks!", delighted at the sight of big metal machines, plugged into my I-Pod and generally not really with it I forget there are other people around that couldn't care less about tanks. Looking at me like I'm a bit odd, the girl in front gradually loses speed to get away from the tank loving weirdo. Not at all bothered I try and work out the best way to come back here and have a proper nosey about, or more to the point how to convince Kath it's worthwhile going up the massive hill to get here, perhaps there are some birds knocking around as well, that would work.
Time loses all meaning when you run, and no more so than this day, it took me two hours to get to CP1, I didn't really care though I was rather enjoying myself, not even the horrifying thought that taking two hours between each check point would mean I'd be out for eight hours bothered me much. A strange sense of acceptance, I would finish and it would take a while, and that was that.
The eating at check points had become ridiculous, I stuffed my face with anything and everything, pizza, cheese and pickle sandwiches, fig roles, jaffa cakes, chocolate coated honeycomb and snickers all washed down with a brew. Then off I went again at my funny walky, hobbly, shuffle.
The diversion came and went, as did CP2. I felt for the staff at CP2, they were at probably the most exposed spot possible, wind ripping through the Gatorade bottles.
Arriving at CP3, we're informed of a brand new diversion, not sure it added significantly to the journey mind. I also see Max at CP3, and we tag through Swanage together, this time I really can't keep up his pace and we soon split.
Still no dark times as yet, but getting to the top of Bowleys Down, I think that was what it was called any way, the wind cuts into me like a knife, and for the first time I am flipping freezing whilst running. Normally you warm up to a comfortable working temperature whatever the inclement weather conditions, but this was bad, whether it was because of the previous two days sapping my energy, or my snail like pace, I was seriously cold.
Coming to the end of Bowleys Down and I could see the finish, or nearly the finish any way, I was going to make it whatever!
Dropping down onto the beach for the final leg I get as close to the water as possible to find firm ground, the goings good but the wind is fearsome, and in your face.
This beach seems to go on for miles, like the false peak effect when climbing a mountain the finish just never appeared, and to top it off we had to cross a bloody great river and get wet feet 500 yards or so from the end. But I did it, it wasn't quick, and it certainly wasn't pretty, but it was done, three marathons in three days, oh and my first ultra, day three was just over 30 miles thanks to the diversions!
Sitting on the mini bus I had a strange moment, I'd just been running for three days, it had been my world, every waking moment, and some sleeping had been devoted to getting from here to there, or getting ready to get from here to there, or recovering from getting from there to here, and now it was over, what was I going to do? A strange sense of elation and loss.
My time for day three 7:49:27 65th out of 154. Happy!
Overall time for the three days 19:34:57 39th out of 126. Oh so Happy!
I'd like to give a massive big up to the Votwo events team, not that they'll see this but hey ho, I was incredibly well looked after before, during and after the event and would highly recommend this event to anyone, whilst siting on the bus at the end of day three, one of the team even took an order for soup and brews meaning we didn't have to get up, absolute hero. I'll see you in Oct for the Atlantic Coast Challenge.
I'd also like to thank Max and Sacha for looking after me and generally giving me guidance throughout this event, much appreciated thank you.
This event was a massive learning curve on my road to MDS, it was as different from running a marathon as running a 5k is from a full marathon, I suppose I just dipped my toe into ultra running, I loved it!
For more info and to sponsor me check out my website: https://sites.google.com/site/sandbetweenmytoesmds/home
Friday 12 April 2013
Thursday 11 April 2013
Jurassic Coast Challenge - Day 2
Buzzing after Day One I struggled to sleep, I couldn't work out whether I was hot or cold, apparently something to do with my liver working over time. When I do wake up I feel absolutely awful! Head hurts, feel a bit sick, massive flemmy cough, generally just don't want to be anywhere doing anything!
For this reason I opt to go with the later runners group, to give me some time to get my head sorted. Going down to HQ for kit check I'm not a happy bunny! Getting a number two scrawled over the number one from yesterday I can't face breakfast and head back to the van. I manage an emergency pot of porridge I brought with me, and a brew and start to feel a little more positive. Getting myself together I head down for the briefing, less wind today only 20 odd MPH. No minibus ride, we start from HQ. I sling my dry kit on the minibus for the end, dib in and set off.
The first half of the day is around Portland, as it happens a vaguely interesting place, that apparently has a reputation for being a bit odd. CP1 is at the light house, I stuff a bit of pizza down my neck and head on. By this point I'm struggling big time, the words "I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here" keep looping in my head, every now the then I need to cough up a ball of flem the size of a small dog, which does nothing for the burning, tearing ripping sensation in my throat/chest!
CP2 and I'm questioning how the hell I'm going to finish this. It doesn't help that CP2 is back at HQ and the van is 5 minutes walk away! Spotting Max, my van mate, I hobble over with a new find on my long runs, a cup of tea. I find him also struggling and I take solace in the fact that I'm not the only one having a bad day. After another brew and some H2Pro electrolyte drink, I set off with Max. The next leg is through Weymouth, if it weren't for Max this would have been a lot harder, as it was I just got my head down and trudged along beside, having to do no navigation through the streets of Weymouth. Setting a blistering pace of about 10-11 min/mile, trust me by now that was like light speed, we pounded through Weymouth and out the other side, back onto the mud. Which for me was a relief, the relentless pounding of tarmac and monotony of streets did nothing for the loop in my head of "I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here".
Once back on the muddy stuff I slow and Max disappears into the distance. By CP3 I'm done, I get myself a brew and adopt the famous peeing in the street Paula Radcliffe look, in a vein attempt to stretch out my calves, which are by now so tight you could play a tune off them. The CP staff look at me worried and check if I'm carrying on or not, I reply rather foolishly with "yes, I'm just not sure how yet". Knowing full well how far I've got I ask how much further to go, not feeling at all reassured by someone else telling me its only 12 k or so to go, I set off at a hobble. Spotting a finger post saying 6 miles to Lulworth, bizarrely does the trick and I start to feel a bit more positive. The next 6 miles is known as the roller coaster, and it is up and down somewhat, still at least it's prettier than the last 20 miles!
A bizarre thing happens towards the end, I develop a new style of walking, apparently it's known as fell walking, a bit like normal walking just really giving it some. This pays me in good stead and a mile or so from the finish I set my sights on number 29, the loop of "I don't want to be here" is replaced with "I'm guna get you 29". Putting my newly discovered technique into operation I gain on a long uphill section, overtaking him just before the brow I see steps, not just any steps, steps going down hill, with a Votwo flag at the bottom, finishing with a flourish I actually run down them at an astonishing pace, even for fresh legs I'd have been pleased with it!
Crossing the line I find Max and Sacha recently finished, forgot to mention but Sacha really struggled on Day 1 and was questioning Day 2, so to finish was great. All now on a high we piled on the bus and headed for home. I did however still have a nagging thought in my head, how the hell was I going to do tomorrow?
Back at the van and I was starting to feel cold, fortunately we had two showers, one being an en-suite, which apparently worked. Looking forward to not having to play silly buggers with the shower I was bitterly disappointed when this too was cold. That was it, me at my lowest. I went to bed and called Kath my girlfriend for, at the very least, a hug down the phone!
After a touch more moping and feeling sorry for myself we eventually got the shower working and I was a happy man once again, and to top it off roast dinner for tea.
That night I went to bed early feeling positively ill, to put it politely.
My time for day two 6:26:36 61st out of 197. Poorly!
For more info and to sponsor me check out my website: https://sites.google.com/site/sandbetweenmytoesmds/home
For this reason I opt to go with the later runners group, to give me some time to get my head sorted. Going down to HQ for kit check I'm not a happy bunny! Getting a number two scrawled over the number one from yesterday I can't face breakfast and head back to the van. I manage an emergency pot of porridge I brought with me, and a brew and start to feel a little more positive. Getting myself together I head down for the briefing, less wind today only 20 odd MPH. No minibus ride, we start from HQ. I sling my dry kit on the minibus for the end, dib in and set off.
The first half of the day is around Portland, as it happens a vaguely interesting place, that apparently has a reputation for being a bit odd. CP1 is at the light house, I stuff a bit of pizza down my neck and head on. By this point I'm struggling big time, the words "I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here" keep looping in my head, every now the then I need to cough up a ball of flem the size of a small dog, which does nothing for the burning, tearing ripping sensation in my throat/chest!
CP2 and I'm questioning how the hell I'm going to finish this. It doesn't help that CP2 is back at HQ and the van is 5 minutes walk away! Spotting Max, my van mate, I hobble over with a new find on my long runs, a cup of tea. I find him also struggling and I take solace in the fact that I'm not the only one having a bad day. After another brew and some H2Pro electrolyte drink, I set off with Max. The next leg is through Weymouth, if it weren't for Max this would have been a lot harder, as it was I just got my head down and trudged along beside, having to do no navigation through the streets of Weymouth. Setting a blistering pace of about 10-11 min/mile, trust me by now that was like light speed, we pounded through Weymouth and out the other side, back onto the mud. Which for me was a relief, the relentless pounding of tarmac and monotony of streets did nothing for the loop in my head of "I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here".
Once back on the muddy stuff I slow and Max disappears into the distance. By CP3 I'm done, I get myself a brew and adopt the famous peeing in the street Paula Radcliffe look, in a vein attempt to stretch out my calves, which are by now so tight you could play a tune off them. The CP staff look at me worried and check if I'm carrying on or not, I reply rather foolishly with "yes, I'm just not sure how yet". Knowing full well how far I've got I ask how much further to go, not feeling at all reassured by someone else telling me its only 12 k or so to go, I set off at a hobble. Spotting a finger post saying 6 miles to Lulworth, bizarrely does the trick and I start to feel a bit more positive. The next 6 miles is known as the roller coaster, and it is up and down somewhat, still at least it's prettier than the last 20 miles!
A bizarre thing happens towards the end, I develop a new style of walking, apparently it's known as fell walking, a bit like normal walking just really giving it some. This pays me in good stead and a mile or so from the finish I set my sights on number 29, the loop of "I don't want to be here" is replaced with "I'm guna get you 29". Putting my newly discovered technique into operation I gain on a long uphill section, overtaking him just before the brow I see steps, not just any steps, steps going down hill, with a Votwo flag at the bottom, finishing with a flourish I actually run down them at an astonishing pace, even for fresh legs I'd have been pleased with it!
Crossing the line I find Max and Sacha recently finished, forgot to mention but Sacha really struggled on Day 1 and was questioning Day 2, so to finish was great. All now on a high we piled on the bus and headed for home. I did however still have a nagging thought in my head, how the hell was I going to do tomorrow?
Back at the van and I was starting to feel cold, fortunately we had two showers, one being an en-suite, which apparently worked. Looking forward to not having to play silly buggers with the shower I was bitterly disappointed when this too was cold. That was it, me at my lowest. I went to bed and called Kath my girlfriend for, at the very least, a hug down the phone!
After a touch more moping and feeling sorry for myself we eventually got the shower working and I was a happy man once again, and to top it off roast dinner for tea.
That night I went to bed early feeling positively ill, to put it politely.
My time for day two 6:26:36 61st out of 197. Poorly!
For more info and to sponsor me check out my website: https://sites.google.com/site/sandbetweenmytoesmds/home
Jurassic Coast Challenge - Day 1
So it begins! Predictably, I can't sleep and am up early. I have a moment with the shower in which I call it many four letter words, and get out still with shampoo in my hair!
Good news, it looks like the rain has stopped, still a touch windy though. We all head off for breakfast, kit check and registration together. I get my number, 202, and my "dibber", the chip attached to my wrist for timing, and get all my compulsory kit checked a number one scrawled on my hand denoting a satisfactory kit check.
Then it's time for breakfast, the choice of options is good, but the porridge is cold. Still, I struggle to get it down, then back to the van for pre-race ablutions, last minute supplement mixing and general faffing! Back at HQ for the briefing we're told the worst of the wet weather has blown through last night with just a few wintery showers expected, but the wind is gusting up to 45mph, wouldn't be so bad if it was on our backs!
We all pile onto the minibuses for the 50 minute drive to Charmouth. We were told at the briefing that it would be a pretty low key start, basically the driver would open the minibus doors and say "that way" and we'd be off. This they were not joking about, the bus stopped, doors opened and bodies in High Vis and compression clothing bursted in all directions, some to find the nearest tree to remedy the last minute panicked hydration, some to find the dibber and get going, others just running because, well that's what they do, utter chaos!
Dumping my dry bag in the minibus for the finish, I dibbed in and set off. At last, all apprehension and worry melts away, and I'm even running down hill, bliss!
A stile, and confusion reigns, actually confusion reigns for the next mile or two, everywhere you look there's a little string of runners trying to find where the hell the coast path is, I tell you its not marked like my old South Downs Way! It soon becomes apparent that becoming lost is all part of the fun, sometimes it's even beneficial.
Going up golden cap, I find myself in front, or at least I can't see anyone to follow, having not been in this situation before I tentatively carry on, with frequent looks over my shoulder to check other runners are following, not because it means I'm going the right way but at least I'll be lost with others.
Check Point 1 appears rather quickly and I'm the first one there! I have a quick mouthful of Gatorade and carry on. By this point there is a small group of 3-4 of us that tab along together, occasionally stopping to check the map and take a consensus on the best way to go.
CP2 comes and goes and our merry band continue forward. The odd thing was that I ate at CP2, I normally avoid eating anything while running, accept energy gels or chews perhaps, but the look of a cheese and pickle sandwich was too much to bear and I scoff one at every CP.
The run up to CP3 was muddy, contract farmers ploughing up the headlands didn't help, but it was nothing compared to the mud after! Sticky, sucking, clawing, slippery, slithery stuff, it was awful! By this point our merry band had dissipated into 3, and then we got lost. Actually I got lost, others just followed, the coast path stopped, all paths stopped and we were in a flipping campsite! We marched on through and, coming to a road we were joined by another chap that had seen us and followed. After a quick perusal of the map we figured out where we were, and how to get back to the coast path, which meant a bit of road running, which was nice.
Once back on the coast path our little group began to string out and the chap who got lost with us, who turned out to be called Rick, and I pulled away from the others. After several miles of mud, the finish was in site, and we were first back. Feeling rather chuffed I went in search of a brew, a minor disaster the geny had gone down and there was no hot water! The day was saved however, with the offer of soup.
Back at the van the shower even decided to play ball and I was able to wash Dorset off my legs! Apparently last year people were suffering heat stroke and sun burn, this year hypothermia and trench foot were more common!
All in all a brilliant day, I genuinely enjoyed every second of Day One. I think back and I'm sure it was sunny, flowers out, birds singing as I skipped merrily through the Dorset countryside, not gale force winds and wind chills in the minus figures!
My time 5:18:54 24th out of 195. Happy!
For more info and to sponsor me check out my website: https://sites.google.com/site/sandbetweenmytoesmds/home
Good news, it looks like the rain has stopped, still a touch windy though. We all head off for breakfast, kit check and registration together. I get my number, 202, and my "dibber", the chip attached to my wrist for timing, and get all my compulsory kit checked a number one scrawled on my hand denoting a satisfactory kit check.
Then it's time for breakfast, the choice of options is good, but the porridge is cold. Still, I struggle to get it down, then back to the van for pre-race ablutions, last minute supplement mixing and general faffing! Back at HQ for the briefing we're told the worst of the wet weather has blown through last night with just a few wintery showers expected, but the wind is gusting up to 45mph, wouldn't be so bad if it was on our backs!
We all pile onto the minibuses for the 50 minute drive to Charmouth. We were told at the briefing that it would be a pretty low key start, basically the driver would open the minibus doors and say "that way" and we'd be off. This they were not joking about, the bus stopped, doors opened and bodies in High Vis and compression clothing bursted in all directions, some to find the nearest tree to remedy the last minute panicked hydration, some to find the dibber and get going, others just running because, well that's what they do, utter chaos!
Dumping my dry bag in the minibus for the finish, I dibbed in and set off. At last, all apprehension and worry melts away, and I'm even running down hill, bliss!
A stile, and confusion reigns, actually confusion reigns for the next mile or two, everywhere you look there's a little string of runners trying to find where the hell the coast path is, I tell you its not marked like my old South Downs Way! It soon becomes apparent that becoming lost is all part of the fun, sometimes it's even beneficial.
Going up golden cap, I find myself in front, or at least I can't see anyone to follow, having not been in this situation before I tentatively carry on, with frequent looks over my shoulder to check other runners are following, not because it means I'm going the right way but at least I'll be lost with others.
Check Point 1 appears rather quickly and I'm the first one there! I have a quick mouthful of Gatorade and carry on. By this point there is a small group of 3-4 of us that tab along together, occasionally stopping to check the map and take a consensus on the best way to go.
CP2 comes and goes and our merry band continue forward. The odd thing was that I ate at CP2, I normally avoid eating anything while running, accept energy gels or chews perhaps, but the look of a cheese and pickle sandwich was too much to bear and I scoff one at every CP.
The run up to CP3 was muddy, contract farmers ploughing up the headlands didn't help, but it was nothing compared to the mud after! Sticky, sucking, clawing, slippery, slithery stuff, it was awful! By this point our merry band had dissipated into 3, and then we got lost. Actually I got lost, others just followed, the coast path stopped, all paths stopped and we were in a flipping campsite! We marched on through and, coming to a road we were joined by another chap that had seen us and followed. After a quick perusal of the map we figured out where we were, and how to get back to the coast path, which meant a bit of road running, which was nice.
Once back on the coast path our little group began to string out and the chap who got lost with us, who turned out to be called Rick, and I pulled away from the others. After several miles of mud, the finish was in site, and we were first back. Feeling rather chuffed I went in search of a brew, a minor disaster the geny had gone down and there was no hot water! The day was saved however, with the offer of soup.
Back at the van the shower even decided to play ball and I was able to wash Dorset off my legs! Apparently last year people were suffering heat stroke and sun burn, this year hypothermia and trench foot were more common!
All in all a brilliant day, I genuinely enjoyed every second of Day One. I think back and I'm sure it was sunny, flowers out, birds singing as I skipped merrily through the Dorset countryside, not gale force winds and wind chills in the minus figures!
My time 5:18:54 24th out of 195. Happy!
For more info and to sponsor me check out my website: https://sites.google.com/site/sandbetweenmytoesmds/home
Tuesday 9 April 2013
The Jurassic Coast - Pre Start
Right. My first multi day event, over three days I'm going to double the number of marathons I've done, and do it on some of Dorset's most impressive coastline!
The Jurassic Coast Challenge consists of three marathons in three consecutive days, over the Jurassic coast, bizarrely.
Arriving on Thurs night, to check into my luxury villa, or massive posh caravan, or even grotty tin pot caravan depending on your point of view, I went for the massive posh option, despite what it said on the side.
Believe it or not I'm massively organized in my own little way, especially on things like this, I enjoy fiddling and getting ready and putting every thing in its place, so I set about organizing my little room and the kit I would need. Which to be honest was a bit of an unknown I felt I had brought a colossal amount of stuff for only three days, not sure what to actually take with me on the run I just went for small and light, partly because it makes sense if I'm carrying it, but mainly because my bag was really small and I was too tight to buy a larger one!
After an hour or so of fiddling, the couple I would be sharing the luxury villa with turned up, and I had apparently brought the bare minimum of kit. They had boxes and bags and tubs and all sorts, as it turned out Max was a seasoned runner having done this event several times and Sacha was a seasoned martial at these events. The perfect people for a novice like me to be sharing with, very friendly and full of help and advice.
After a little more fiddling and organising we set off to HQ for tea, lasagna. I don't normally eat pasta so this was a bit of a treat. Walking back to the van the thought occurred to me that I might need a little more food than was being offered, fortunately I had brought emergency rations, which I scoffed before my shower.
Yes the shower left a lot to be desired and lost the big posh caravan some brownie points. Hot water would only be produced from the shower after the sink tap was on for a while, then turned off, even then it would only last for a few minutes, then you'd have jump out and turn the tap on again and wait, then jump back in!
After a less than pleasant shower out came the powders, and potions and supplements, if any one were to peer in the window it would appear a Colombian drug lord was having a party.
After a frenzied mixing of sports drinks, electrolytes and various products with 'Power' and 'Energy' in the title, we sit down to watch the telly. As it happens Sacha is also going to do all three days for the first time. It's always nice to have someone as apprehensive as you on things like this.
Sitting in bed that night as the van rocked from side to side in gale force winds and rain drummed mercilessly on the aluminium roof, I did have a brief flash of questioning disbelief at what I had signed up for, the thought didn't last long mind!
For more info and to sponsor me check out my website: https://sites.google.com/site/sandbetweenmytoesmds/home
The Jurassic Coast Challenge consists of three marathons in three consecutive days, over the Jurassic coast, bizarrely.
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| Everything in it's place, even the miniature heroes! |
After an hour or so of fiddling, the couple I would be sharing the luxury villa with turned up, and I had apparently brought the bare minimum of kit. They had boxes and bags and tubs and all sorts, as it turned out Max was a seasoned runner having done this event several times and Sacha was a seasoned martial at these events. The perfect people for a novice like me to be sharing with, very friendly and full of help and advice.
After a little more fiddling and organising we set off to HQ for tea, lasagna. I don't normally eat pasta so this was a bit of a treat. Walking back to the van the thought occurred to me that I might need a little more food than was being offered, fortunately I had brought emergency rations, which I scoffed before my shower.
Yes the shower left a lot to be desired and lost the big posh caravan some brownie points. Hot water would only be produced from the shower after the sink tap was on for a while, then turned off, even then it would only last for a few minutes, then you'd have jump out and turn the tap on again and wait, then jump back in!
After a less than pleasant shower out came the powders, and potions and supplements, if any one were to peer in the window it would appear a Colombian drug lord was having a party.
After a frenzied mixing of sports drinks, electrolytes and various products with 'Power' and 'Energy' in the title, we sit down to watch the telly. As it happens Sacha is also going to do all three days for the first time. It's always nice to have someone as apprehensive as you on things like this.
Sitting in bed that night as the van rocked from side to side in gale force winds and rain drummed mercilessly on the aluminium roof, I did have a brief flash of questioning disbelief at what I had signed up for, the thought didn't last long mind!
For more info and to sponsor me check out my website: https://sites.google.com/site/sandbetweenmytoesmds/home
Thursday 4 April 2013
My first sub four
The Steyning Stinger, sounds fearsome don't you think? Consisting of 4 "stings" or big hills, over the South Downs, probably not the place for a PB, but this time I really had been training my behind off, and was genuinely looking forward to it.
Not the typical proceedings on the day, no timing chip and no start time. Both of which actually turned out to be really nice. You can turn up any when you like after 0730 I think, sign in get your race number and go, brilliant system and a brilliant race.
Feeling good, and walking up to the start line Metallica comes on through the ipod, I must admit I did develop a little bit of a swagger, as a tingle goes down my back there was nowhere else I'd rather be!
The strategy I've developed is to slot in behind someone and tag along with them until they end up to fast for me, or some one faster comes along and it's a more comfortable pace. This time after a mile or so a chap in a woolly bobble hat jogs past, thinking it a strange attire for a run I slot in behind him at a fast, but comfortable pace. Feeling confident and enjoying a bendy downhill bit, I find myself in the middle of a bog! Suddenly panicking that my choice of road shoe was a big mistake I slip and slide my way to a stile, fortunately this marks the end of the wet stuff and the rest of the race is firm under foot.
I lose bobble hat man at mile 8 or so, I was fiddling around trying to open my packet of shot blocks with hands that are good for nothing other than chilling a beer, and when I looked up again he was nowhere to be seen. As it turns out bobble hat man came in 10th, yes I did do a little bit of competitor stalking. Lesson learnt, open energy stuff before a race while hands still work, gels the exception of course, things may get a little sticky!
Getting to the checkpoint at Cissbury Ring, mile 16 perhaps, and all is well, in fact I'm having a rather good time. I shovel in a couple of chunks of Mars bar and scoot off down the hill, half a mile later there's no-one in front and no-one behind, I'll just give it a few hundred yards then it'll open up and I'll be able to see some other runners I think to myself. It opens up and not a sausage to be seen! Looking over my left shoulder, and up hill, I see a body in running gear going the other way, whoops back we go, still a minor detour never hurt anyone.
After completing the loop of Cissbury I'm yet to be engulfed by the dark side, wishing I was anywhere else but pounding round this course for mile after mile, if you run you've been there and you know. Another loop around Steep down and the corners start to grey out, I can feel it coming, mile 21 and darkness! Whether this was one of the stings or just an incidental hill on the run but it nearly defeated me. It wasn't steep, but it went on, and on and on, beaten into a weird shuffly run I saw a bloody camera man in the distance! Brilliant get me at my best why don't you, putting on a brave face I look for inspiration into the distance, and there it is, runners going downhill, that's all I need, happy face is back!
The happy face remains and come the last mile or two we're up to 7min/mile and positively enjoying oneself. A fantastic race, not only due to my cracking time, but because of the scenery and fantastic organisation from Steyning AC, recommend this race highly, and you get breakfast at the end!
As for my time, 3:52:40 28th out of 208 runners, happy Tom!
For more info and to sponsor me check out my website: https://sites.google.com/site/sandbetweenmytoesmds/home
Not the typical proceedings on the day, no timing chip and no start time. Both of which actually turned out to be really nice. You can turn up any when you like after 0730 I think, sign in get your race number and go, brilliant system and a brilliant race.
Feeling good, and walking up to the start line Metallica comes on through the ipod, I must admit I did develop a little bit of a swagger, as a tingle goes down my back there was nowhere else I'd rather be!
The strategy I've developed is to slot in behind someone and tag along with them until they end up to fast for me, or some one faster comes along and it's a more comfortable pace. This time after a mile or so a chap in a woolly bobble hat jogs past, thinking it a strange attire for a run I slot in behind him at a fast, but comfortable pace. Feeling confident and enjoying a bendy downhill bit, I find myself in the middle of a bog! Suddenly panicking that my choice of road shoe was a big mistake I slip and slide my way to a stile, fortunately this marks the end of the wet stuff and the rest of the race is firm under foot.
I lose bobble hat man at mile 8 or so, I was fiddling around trying to open my packet of shot blocks with hands that are good for nothing other than chilling a beer, and when I looked up again he was nowhere to be seen. As it turns out bobble hat man came in 10th, yes I did do a little bit of competitor stalking. Lesson learnt, open energy stuff before a race while hands still work, gels the exception of course, things may get a little sticky!
Getting to the checkpoint at Cissbury Ring, mile 16 perhaps, and all is well, in fact I'm having a rather good time. I shovel in a couple of chunks of Mars bar and scoot off down the hill, half a mile later there's no-one in front and no-one behind, I'll just give it a few hundred yards then it'll open up and I'll be able to see some other runners I think to myself. It opens up and not a sausage to be seen! Looking over my left shoulder, and up hill, I see a body in running gear going the other way, whoops back we go, still a minor detour never hurt anyone.
 |
| "I can see a downhill bit!" |
The happy face remains and come the last mile or two we're up to 7min/mile and positively enjoying oneself. A fantastic race, not only due to my cracking time, but because of the scenery and fantastic organisation from Steyning AC, recommend this race highly, and you get breakfast at the end!
As for my time, 3:52:40 28th out of 208 runners, happy Tom!
For more info and to sponsor me check out my website: https://sites.google.com/site/sandbetweenmytoesmds/home
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