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!
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