The Dorset 100......is today!

Arrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1.5 hours to go!!!!!!!!!!

Woken up totally terrified! What am I doing??!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?

Had some more illuminating dreams last night. The one I woke up from, Andrew had made me eat 5 blue marbles, which made me sick, but I couldn't throw up the marbles, which got stuck inside me. Then I had to be off work for 48 hours because I'd been sick, but I forgot to call them, so I think I lost my job. I the closer it got to the run starting, the more anxious I got and the more I could feel the marbles. I am genuinely terrified by what is going on in my brain all the time that I don't even know about. And at least there's no chance of loosing my marbles, if they're stuck inside me.

Final kit check (eyes looking a bit scared)......

Blimey there's a lot of stuff. Have checked everything 3 times and I bet I've still not ot something as get disqualified.

Final day of recces yesterday with Andrew and my parents....beautiful scenery and beautiful weather. 

Only one big getting lost incident. 1.5 miles altogether, sure glad that happened yesterday and not today...although I know there will definitely be parts where I'll get lost again, I just have to remember...you're not lost unless you're both not where you're meant to be and you don't know where you are, both at once.

Just had breakfast number 2 - bacon and egg butty and coffee. Almost ready for the off. About to take some precautionary painkillers and hay-fever tablets. And patch up my feet with precautionary blisters plasters, talcum powder and party feet gel patches. 

Thank you for all the kind words and support! It means a lot to me, and I will remember all your kindness when the going gets tough (at approx. 12.05pm).

And with that....it's time to go!

xxx

The Dorset 100.....3 days....2 days to go......

Got a new whistle! Arrived this morning. Thanks to the fab Childs' gang. It's very loud. Peep peep peep = in danger. 

And got to Dorset. First impressions = it's very beautiful, the weather is amazing, and it's very hilly.

Had a recce of part of the route. Studied the maps hard.....

....all OK, so time to enjoy the sunshine....

And then back to the cottage to rehydrate. Oooops. 

The Dorset 100.....4 days to go......

Last night I was talking about unicorns. Then while I was asleep I had all sorts of dreams about The 100. 

And then today, on my last minute shopping trip to buy first aid kit essentials (by-the-by, what is the difference between plasters, adhesive dressing, low adherent dressing, and fixation tape?) I found these socks:

It's like it's a sign. Or something. Bearing in mind what my dreams were about, I'm not altogether sure that it's a good idea to never stop dreaming. It's all gone a bit blurry now, but there was definitely a lot of stuff about getting lost in a whole load of different places, I almost got disqualified at the first checkpoint because it took me so long to get there, one of the checkpoints was some kind of Hollywood dressing room with glitter balls and ribbons floating everywhere, I lost my shoes, and I ended up in a dark wood. 

That unicorn has definitely got a sinister look in it's eye. 

Having a bit of a mid-week crisis about how much there is to do, and realising that I only have three days to do it in this week, and therefore it is not mid-week after all, but in fact almost the end. On the plus side, I would be completely up for starting the 100 right this second, and in fact keeping going for far more than 100 miles, if I could run away from everything right now. And the thought of getting lost doesn't even bother me (unless it was in a dark wood, with that unicorn hot on my heels) because then I'd never be able to find my way back, and I could escape forever. So maybe dreams are good, after all. 

Good night. And sweet dreams. 

The Dorset 100.....5 days to go.....

So I have finally finished plotting the route on the maps (thanks Mum and Dad for the help!), photocopying the relevant parts of the maps (maps are really HUGE when you unfold them all), and sticking the right bits of map to the right bits of route description. I might not be naturally good at navigating, but I sure as hell am going to make it look like I am.

On completion of this exercise, I've now got a weighty tome of 34 pages to carry around, plus the 3 maps, plus a spare copy of the route description, a spare copy of my version, and a list of checkpoints. By a stroke of good luck, my new extra large backpack has arrived today, so at least I'll have something to carry all this around in.  

There are four things that have struck me on reading through the route description a few times:

1) At about mile 65 the instructions say to "....TR thru garden gate (WM on R). (EXTREME quiet please). BL and in 20 YDS BR to pas thru gap in hedge onto lower garden. TL to pass unicorn and in 30 yds up bank by LMG, TR to ST......" Huh? I'm referring to the unicorn, whilst I appreciate that the rest of that sentence doesn't make sense either. Unless that is, you've spent the last few days studying the LDWA code breaking book, in which case, that all makes perfect sense. Anyway, the unicorn. Is this, like a pet? I'm guessing so, as we have to be extremely quiet while passing, presumably so as not to disturb it. 

2) There's a lot of instructions about not touching this fence or that fence, as there is a risk they are electrified. Wow. That's just what you want 80 miles in when I'm guessing your legs might not be up for doing everything you ask of them, like running in a straight line. 

3) There are 14 checkpoints (and as this is an LDWA event, I interpret this as 14 cake stops).

4) The route ends at 101.6 miles. That's 101.6 miles. Not 100 miles. I didn't sign up for this. 

By some very kind help I can now use a compass (thanks Mum). And I am also getting a new 122 decibel survival whistle in BRIGHT PINK! From my good friends The Childs Family, who read my last blog and took my distress over the whistle situation into their own, far more capable, hands and have sent one to me. Big thanks everyone! I am very lucky to have such fantastic people around me, and I'm really feeling their support right now. Plus, I'm happy to learn from Malcolm that I don't need to learn Morse Code after all to communicate help, just short sharp bursts on the whistle. And likewise, if any of us should hear some loud whistling anywhere (especially in Dorset, next weekend) then we should investigate. And this is our survival lesson for the day. 

xxx 

The Dorset 100.....6 days to go

I've not been doing very well at writing about my preparations for the Dorset 100. That's not to say that I haven't been preparing for it. My word, there's a lot to do. That saying 'running is the perfect sport because you don't need anything more than a pair of trainers' must not have been referring to 100 mile events.

Back when I entered it in November last year, all I was concerned about was being well trained and fit enough to run/ walk that far. All my training has gone pretty well. As I am reminded constantly by friends and family, I do occasionally (or, fairly often) have a stinker of a run, and then complain about it for a while. But, just to clarify, I do genuinely love running, and even those bad ones over the last few months have taught me some important lessons, which I hope will be useful to me next weekend. Looking back then, since October, I've done two 50 mile events, one 40 miler, one 39 miles, one 35 miles, one 32 miles, one 30 miles, and three marathons, plus loads of miles by myself. Of those proper events, it was actually only two of the marathons that I found really awful. Oh, and that one that I DNF'd in February. Oh. I'd forgotten about that one. But, still in my reflective mood, I could explain these bad experiences. Mostly they are to do with the weather (either, too cold or too hot), which although out of my control, I can prepare for and take steps to minimize it's effect on me.

Which brings me nicely on to my next topic, of essential kit. And a heap more things to worry about, as well as the being fit enough to run that far.

My goodness, there is a lot of stuff that you need. Obviously, to be running all around the countryside for 100 miles you need to have certain things with you to keep you safe should you get into trouble. So the organisers helpfully condense all this into an 'essential kit list'. You have to have all of these things with you at all times, and you get checked at a random point in the event, and if you don't have any of them, you'll get disqualified. I'm anxious about this already. I lost my whistle (actually no, it was Andrew's whistle, but I'm not sure that he knows that, yet) on one of the aforementioned bad experiences, and it was attached to my bag with one of those metal hoop fastener things, which was still attached to my bag at the end, so I have NO idea how the whistle came off. And if it does that next weekend, that's it, disqualified! All for a whistle. Which I'm not even sure what I would use for. Which is making me even more anxious, because for it to be useful, I probably need to know Morse Code, which I don't, so that is something else to learn this week. Oh blimey. How is there only 6 days left??

In a fit of anxiety, I made a super-list. This includes not just everything that I will need on me while running, but also what I need to have in my half-way bag, and also what I need to have in my Mum and Dad's car. So now there are three lists of stuff:

Pus, there are all the other things I need to take for the week, because I can assure you that after finishing running 100 miles, I am going to be doing stuff other than running for the next few days. So that's four lists.

And then there is the list of all the things I need to get/ do before than. 

So there are actually five lists. This is multi-tasking at it's extreme.

 

I also discovered last week that my rucksack isn't big enough to fit everything in, and so I have had to find and order a new one, which I really hope arrives in time. Plus, I've lost my watch and my seal for my bladder (my running bladder, the one that holds the water in my rucksack, not my own bladder). 

I think these should go on list five?

Marathon #38 - A World of Pain

Right. The Orpington Marafun - last training race before The 100 in three weeks time. Did a marathon PB less than two weeks ago at Blackpool. This should all be straight forward. Just turn up, plenty of good miles already under the belt and all going well, so bit of a doddle for my last preparation race - just get it done, and official training completed. Tick.

No.

No way.

Complete bloody disaster.

2 miles in, and I remembered what I had forgotten to remember twice before (today is my third time on this course), that the route is mostly along a traffic jam on the A20 (after the first mile, which is straight up a hill). It's sweltering hot, so hot that I am regretting my outfit choice of new purple leggings and black (massively heat absorbing) top already, and am wishing instead that I am a man, and can run topless wearing just a tiny pair of shorts, like half of the men here are doing. Hundreds of people are staring at us, and laughing, from their smug little air conditioned cars in the traffic jam. I breath in some exhaust and some fumes get in my eye. I am so unhappy, I hate everything right now. 

6 miles in and I get a headache. 6.1 miles in and I realise I have left my headache tablets in the car. What kind of an idiot am I? The biggest idiot. Fluids, fluids, must drink more fluids. The water in my bottle is now hot enough to make tea, and is running dangerously low, so I make a concerted effort to drink at each of the next few water stations, which are every mile or so. The marshals are friendly, and kindly point to bags of sugar sweets. I revive a little. Great, only 16 miles or so to go now, that's fine. I can totally do this, even with a hammer knocking away at a nail behind my eyes. It's fine. Really.

16 miles.

Bloody hell.

That's, like, forever. But that's OK, because what's that saying? "Pain is temporary, pride is forever". That's it. So this is fine. It hurts right now, but it's OK, because it's only temporary. WHAT???? Who came up with this?? 16 miles is not temporary. It's at least 2 and a half hours at my current pace. That is longer, much longer, than what should be reasonably classed as temporary. In fact, it's probably going to be longer than that anyway, because now the hammer knocking away inside my head has called it's friends to the party, and now the front of each leg is getting a hammering too.

Sob.

The road goes on for about 300  miles (I had initially put 100 there, but then realised that's not a joke anymore, in 3 weeks that will be a reality. Oh my), before finally turning off and the route takes a few miles through quieter streets. Streets full of posh houses, with manicured lawns, and rich people strolling about in clean clothes, fresh from the shower, with perfect hair. I feel totally gross, covered in sun cream (3 varieties), sweat, exhaust fumes and dust. I want nothing more to duck under the nearest sprinkler, and sit there for the rest of the afternoon. With a nice cold gin and tonic. Gin. GIN! Who had to bring up gin? If there was just some gin, everything would be better.

Oh, that's OK, we've reached the half way point! People are shouting and clapping us, we must still look good! Just one more lap to go, and then this will all be over!

One more lap. 

Oh no.

Please return to the top paragraph, and read through up to here again, for a description of the second half.

Through much sobbing, grimaces, and harsh words to myself, I somehow made it to within a mile of the end. I caught up with a guy who had run the half marathon, in bare feet. Bare feet. Yes, that's right. He said it had been "tougher than usual, as the ground had been very rough and uneven". I've walked home in bare feet plenty of times after nights out, because long nights of dancing in heels were always too much for me, but that's not really in the same league. After speaking with my yoga teacher recently about the importance of feet (see previous post - Let Your Feet Be Brave), I was intrigued by this guy. He said that he had started running in bare feet as he had been struggling with ongoing injuries that no physio or conventional foot advice had fixed, so he tried running in bare feet, and all the problems went away. It's interesting, I mean, I guess way back when, when we were hunter gatherers foraging the land for survival, we would have walked/ run all over the place, all in bare feet. No "insert name of popular running shoe" back then. But then, they also didn't have concrete. Or glass. Or bottles. Or needles. Or people dropping litter. So, I'm always a little concerned when I see people running in bare feet (and my, is it getting popular now), I mean, if you get a cut and then keep running on it, wouldn't it just get sore and infected? And what if you stood in some dog poo? So, whilst I am interested in this idea (the bare foot running, not dog poo), I hope that the people that do it are OK, really. 

Well, all that thinking took up a few more of the last painful meters, and before I knew it, I was back at the finish, drinking some juice (still no gin) and wearing a medal. The medal felt heavy around my neck, like an actual weight around my shoulders, which I will now always carry, and never forget.

Oh well! Better luck next time! Seriously.... better have better luck next time, because it's going to be four times as long. 

Gosh.