It doesn't seem OK to go writing a post about something so trivial as running when there is so much horror going on in the world right now, without acknowledging these things. So, to reflect for a moment. The people striking terror into the world are but a few, and yet so few cause so much pain to so many. We can but continue to live our lives in the way that we wish, and not in the way we will be bullied and frightened into. And so, whilst reflecting on those who have been stolen from the world, let us be strengthened, and strive to bring goodness into the world, to far outweigh those horrors which have taken place.
"How far that little candle throws his beam! So shines a good deed."
- William Shakespeare
Winter running is essentially like winter motoring (or driving, as it's the 21st century now). In theory a good idea, but practically, several issues befall those in the driving seat. The trouble of seeing in the dark (although, obviously I suppose, legally in a car there are lights to assist with this conundrum), a puzzle which has taken much time trying to solve, all to no avail. I have tried running at 5.30 am before work, after work, before tea, after tea, but all times seem to be dark now. The most exciting route I have come up with is a 10 km straight out and back route along the main road, where cars, and especially buses, splash through puddles at 50 miles an hour making sure that if you weren't totally soaked through from the rain, you sure are now. It's a totally enjoyable experience which I look forward to on running days.
Then there's the weather, which I can't even speak of as it's so upsetting to think of the cold and rain, and anyway I expect you're completely bored of listening to me rant about northern English winter weather, and it's only half way through November. Then there's the ground which is slippery. On last weeks long run, I chose to run to Blackburn along the canal in the rain (a decision I'm unable to justify on reflection) and ended up face down in the mud after slipping on a rock, hidden by treacherous autumn leaves. And there was still 10 miles to run home, and I used up the rest of my water trying to clean up my cut knee, and then I felt faint from lack of hydration, and then I ran out of food, and my watch packed it in, and, and, and...
And I will stop there, as I can't remember where I was going with this theme, and I expect that for those looking to read something motivating are about to chuck this out the window in disgust, if you didn't already give up. I will change topic.
On Saturday I ran the Autumn Shakespeare Marathon with Andrew, at the Shakespeare County Raceway at Long Marston Airfield. Although this seems like disused airfield (and I don't mean that in a rude way, it just has a look of desolateness about it, with even a couple of abandoned RAF planes thrown in), I know from my Dad that it is not. It has one functioning runway, which my Dad has never managed to land on in his microlight as the weather has always been against him. So, I guess this is the only airfield in the country I have stood next to the runway at that my Dad hasn't. Although I'm with him on the weather. Dreadful. But we won't start on that.
I was looking forward to the race, of course, as I am member of the OMA group (Obsessed Marathoners Anonymous), but wasn't overly prepared. I found out the address of the hotel we were staying in while turning on the satnav in the car before I left the night before, and the address of the race even later at about 11 pm. I somehow remembered all my kit, and there was a over-enthusiastic buying of porridge by Andrew's Mum, my Mum, and me. Today's lesson: never let yourself be caught short of porridge the night before a run.
If I had been better prepared I would have read the route description before entering and noticed that it was 8 x 5 km laps around a disused airfield, rather than a scenic 26.2 jaunt around Stratford-upon-Avon in the shadow of a Shakespeare. No matter. I was in a bad mood for the first couple of laps, due to being cold and wet, being told off by a marshal for being late (which was incorrect in itself, there was good 4 minutes before the race started) and that this was irresponsible as I would miss the race briefing and fall into a pothole and break my ankle (like I ever fall over). As with all things, I eventually got over it, somewhere around lap 3. I remember, as I looked at my wrist and noticed that the elastic bands I was using to keep count of the laps were starting to look more manageable, and 15 km of running is about the time it takes for me to start feeling less angry about something.
It was great to run with Andrew again! After he came back from abandoning me for a whole month to go to New York. He ran a PB today, 3:48:24 - congrats! And without him I wouldn't have managed such a time by myself as despite feeling better in mood after a few laps, I found it a tough race. If I may mention one more tiny point about the weather, it's that 8 laps around an exposed airfield means that for approximately 1/4 of the time the wind is blowing directly in your face, and you have a greater appreciation for how the orange windsock which is blowing at a 90 degree angle to the floor must be feeling.
Other things of note from the race. I accidentally ate a banana flavor energy gel for the first time, and after a few seconds of taste confusion and panic, found that it was actually alright. I put blister plasters on for the first time at the start of the race, and these did stop me from getting blisters in the usual place, but instead I got blisters where the plasters had rubbed. But they were less bad than the ones I usually get, so overall, I think this was a better outcome.
So there you are. Marathon #31. My years and marathons are now equal, and from now on I will be younger than my marathons, which seems a good situation to find yourself in.
