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.
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.
Gosh.
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