Leg 6: Buckland Newton - Wardon Hill, 7.5 miles, 1328 feet up, 952 feet down
Got my Saturday night outfit on. Lined my stomach with pizza. Got blisters on my feet. Had a few drinks top ups. And the drinks are free.
Got my Saturday night outfit on. Lined my stomach with pizza. Got blisters on my feet. Had a few drinks top ups. And the drinks are free.
I haven't pulled an all-nighter in a long time, but it sure is good to be back.
Of all the parts of the hundred, other than the hundred bit, the night part was the part I was most anxious about. See previous post for some of my top fears, and you will see that darkness is among them. It's daft. But I can run totally my myself in the middle of nowhere in the day time and it doesn't bother me a jot, but as soon as it's dark....well.
So I was so grateful when both Andrew and my Dad offered to keep me company during the dark hours.
As it turned out, it was the part of the hundred I loved the best! Perhaps because by the time it got dark I'd done 40 miles, and I started to care a lot less about what gouls might be lurking in the shadows. And perhaps because I'd done 40 miles without getting lost and had started to think that I might be alright at this. And perhaps because having spent the day roasting like....it was nice to be cool.
And, even more than all of that, I just quite enjoyed it being dark. In the halo of my head-torch (which was actually my Dad's head-torch, and really more like a floodlight than a torch) I tootled along my own little orb, feeling like nothing outside of it could touch me. It was very peaceful, and even though I couldn't see much, I felt like I noticed more than usual, like smells were stronger, the feeling of the air on my skin and in my lungs, quiet noises coming from just outside my little spot-light. For most of the night, I could see a couple of other little lights bobbing along like glow-worms in front or behind.
The first part after Andrew joined me I hadn't done before, and to be honest it did take a couple of miles to settle down into navigating in the dark. It's obvious to know that you're not going to have a lot of the reference points that you would have in the day time, like looking at hills, forests, farms etc in the distance to confirm your position on a map. But other things too, like you can't see much outside of your torch-light, so spotting paths, signs, and stiles etc is harder. And you have to concentrate more on where you put your feet; shadows look like holes, when there's nothing there, or you think there's nothing there and your foot disappears into the abyss. And focussing your light alternately between your instructions/ your feet/ your instructions/ your feet/ looking for a stile/ Andrew/ feet/ instructions.... is really quite an art, which I had no idea before the event that I needed to be able to do. Still, you learn fast when you have to.
After a few miles, we got to Up Cerne, and the next few miles we had recced a couple of days before, so that was a nice bit of a time to relax a little as I felt really confident I knew the way. I'm glad I did this bit in the light as well though, as it is a really pretty part, along a tree lined drive, up a big hill with some good views, and down to Up Sydling which is an idyllic hamlet with a babbling brook. Then it was up past the impressive Upper Sydling Farm and up a long hill surrounded by Fisher's Bottom on one side, and by Ayles's Hill Bottom on the other. Bottom jokes are very funny after 10 hours of running. Wardon Hill went on and on for eternity in the darkness, until eventually we reached the top, and then soon after to the checkpoint at Wardon Hill Barn, and 46.4 miles done. Coming from the darkness into a brightly lit barn in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night was quite a shock to the senses. People were scattered around the ban propped up on bales of straw, in varying degrees of physical disrepair. Several tables were loaded with a delicious assortment of food. I had a few little bits of sweet things, squirrelled away a packet of ready salted crisps (earlier in the day I had started to become concerned about the maximum amount of crisp consumption that was acceptable in one day, but I figured that by now it was probably pretty much midnight, and therefore the crisp tally could be re-wound to 0 for the ext day), found Andrew again, and headed out into the night.
Gosh. It's dark out here.
Oh yeah. Better switch my head-torch back on.
Leg 7: Wardon Hill - Evershot, 3.1 miles, 297 feet up, 581 feet down
Don't remember a whole awful lot about the next part, other than we crossed an EXTREME CARE road, got overtaken by a man who was running at 7 million miles an hour, ran through a village called Frome St Quintin, ran over a railway, and ended up in Evershot, which was where we were meant to be, so that was good.
Had some tomato soup, which was like rocket fuel for the soul. Amazing. Soup is quite amazing.
And, even more than all of that, I just quite enjoyed it being dark. In the halo of my head-torch (which was actually my Dad's head-torch, and really more like a floodlight than a torch) I tootled along my own little orb, feeling like nothing outside of it could touch me. It was very peaceful, and even though I couldn't see much, I felt like I noticed more than usual, like smells were stronger, the feeling of the air on my skin and in my lungs, quiet noises coming from just outside my little spot-light. For most of the night, I could see a couple of other little lights bobbing along like glow-worms in front or behind.
The first part after Andrew joined me I hadn't done before, and to be honest it did take a couple of miles to settle down into navigating in the dark. It's obvious to know that you're not going to have a lot of the reference points that you would have in the day time, like looking at hills, forests, farms etc in the distance to confirm your position on a map. But other things too, like you can't see much outside of your torch-light, so spotting paths, signs, and stiles etc is harder. And you have to concentrate more on where you put your feet; shadows look like holes, when there's nothing there, or you think there's nothing there and your foot disappears into the abyss. And focussing your light alternately between your instructions/ your feet/ your instructions/ your feet/ looking for a stile/ Andrew/ feet/ instructions.... is really quite an art, which I had no idea before the event that I needed to be able to do. Still, you learn fast when you have to.
After a few miles, we got to Up Cerne, and the next few miles we had recced a couple of days before, so that was a nice bit of a time to relax a little as I felt really confident I knew the way. I'm glad I did this bit in the light as well though, as it is a really pretty part, along a tree lined drive, up a big hill with some good views, and down to Up Sydling which is an idyllic hamlet with a babbling brook. Then it was up past the impressive Upper Sydling Farm and up a long hill surrounded by Fisher's Bottom on one side, and by Ayles's Hill Bottom on the other. Bottom jokes are very funny after 10 hours of running. Wardon Hill went on and on for eternity in the darkness, until eventually we reached the top, and then soon after to the checkpoint at Wardon Hill Barn, and 46.4 miles done. Coming from the darkness into a brightly lit barn in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night was quite a shock to the senses. People were scattered around the ban propped up on bales of straw, in varying degrees of physical disrepair. Several tables were loaded with a delicious assortment of food. I had a few little bits of sweet things, squirrelled away a packet of ready salted crisps (earlier in the day I had started to become concerned about the maximum amount of crisp consumption that was acceptable in one day, but I figured that by now it was probably pretty much midnight, and therefore the crisp tally could be re-wound to 0 for the ext day), found Andrew again, and headed out into the night.
Gosh. It's dark out here.
Oh yeah. Better switch my head-torch back on.
Leg 7: Wardon Hill - Evershot, 3.1 miles, 297 feet up, 581 feet down
Don't remember a whole awful lot about the next part, other than we crossed an EXTREME CARE road, got overtaken by a man who was running at 7 million miles an hour, ran through a village called Frome St Quintin, ran over a railway, and ended up in Evershot, which was where we were meant to be, so that was good.
Had some tomato soup, which was like rocket fuel for the soul. Amazing. Soup is quite amazing.
49.5 miles......half way!
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