# 63 - The Winter Tanners 30 miles, 21.01.18

"Lie-ins are so over-rated" was a thought I didn't think as my alarm went off at 4.30 am on the morning of the Winter Tanners. Due to a last moment change of circumstance, I had decided to catch public transport to the start of the event in Leatherhead, which looking at a map, didn't really look that far away. But the golden age of the British railways passed many moons ago, and at this time on a Sunday morning, one bus, two trains, a rail replacement bus and two hours and 20 minutes of precious (lie-in) time, was the best National Rail could offer me. I briefly toyed with the idea of walking, it was only 21 miles away and quite frankly sounded like a lot less faff, but then I remembered once I got there that I was supposed to run 40 miles, so changed my mind back. 

The first bus turned up, which I took as a sure sign the rest of the day was going to be just grand. I made it to Waterloo, found the only place open serving some form of coffee at that time was McDonalds, but felt a bit self-consciously sober and really quite old, queued up next to all the young people coming back from Saturday night. Although most of them looked quite rough, which cheered me up a bit. I hopped on the train, which sat there, and then sat there a bit longer. Then the guard announced he was sorry for the delay, but the driver hadn't turned up yet. So we waited a bit longer, during which time I obsessively checked Google maps every 20 seconds to check I was still going to make my next connection. A while later, the driver decided that now was a good time to turn up, and we set off. I got off at Wimbledon, crossed to the platform for the next train, and then noticed the small fact that the train that I was supposed to catch wasn't showing on any of the departure screens. A few minutes of frantic searching, and it turned out the train didn't exist. Who knows why, or where it had gone. It's a mystery. Anyway, I was now going to miss everything else, and the small niggling feeling which I had so far managed to suppress, the one about missing the start, was now a full blown panic. Still, panic was no use here, and I took a few deep (and cold) breaths, and devised a plan B. I would get there a lot later than I had planned, wouldn't be able to run with my running buddy Tara, and I would have to drop down from 40 miles to the 30 route so I would finish in daylight if running by myself, which were all a bit rubbish. But on the plus side, I would still just about make the start and hopefully the cut off time for checkpoint 1, and I would still get an ultra distance run in. I got on the next train feeling a bit better. I hopped off at Effingham Junction, in order to catch the rail replacement bus.....

...and as I stood in the cold, and now the rain which had just started, I thought what an apt name this was for a station. The bus arrived. I jumped off it at Leatherhead, sprinted down the road, spent a few minutes walking around a business park looking for the registration building, found this helpful sign...

...and then the start. I registered, threw my bag into the baggage room, and then myself across the start line at 8.48 am. 12 minutes to spare - heaps of time!

The rain, which was by now quite heavy, turned into snow. Apart from the obvious point that snow is cold, I realised it is really quite a bit drier than rain, and very much more pretty. There were some quite lovely views to be had over the countryside, sprinkled in an other-worldly, powdery dust. After a few hours, it turned back to rain again, but you must make the most of these magical moments whilst they last.

There will be four main things I will remember about this race. One, the terrible weather (see above). Two, the mud. THE MUD! My word, I have never seen mud like it. I believe I may have said that the Gatliff was the muddiest run I've ever done and could possibly ever do, but that was nothing, NOTHING compared to this! The most impressive thing about it, was not how deep it was (although, I went in up to my knees in the Surrey Slurry more than once), but how consistent it was. In 30 miles, there was barely a break in it, only varying degrees of how far you would sink. Even concrete roads were covered, and barely discernible from the fields. I had a moment, where knee deep in slurry, I tried to lift my leg up, only to find that it wouldn't budge, but instead started sinking deeper. I had a panic where I wondered, "is slurry like quicksand?" and started thrashing around in panic, now submerging both hands and my route description in the mud bath as well. With superhuman force, I yanked my leg upwards, only to feel my shoe come away from my foot, and my shoe fill with the horrid, freezing sludge. YIKES!!!! If I loose my shoe....how am I going to  finish the run! I pushed my foot back down, feeling the cold, wet mud make horrible squishing noises. I instructed myself to calm down, and using my map case as leverage, eventually managed to pull myself out of the slurry. I continued up the field, repeating a roughly similar routine every few steps, until I made it to the top of the field, sat on the stile for a moment to recover, and looked over at the next field, which looked suspiciously similar.....

Third memory: a lovely route and a genuinely fabulous route description. I imagine in the summer, minus all the mud and rain (so, on those few summer days when conditions are favourable), this would be a splendidly picturesque route, all rolling countryside and rivers and big country houses. Plenty of stops for a picnic with a view. As I trotted along, thinking about things, I ran through a gate, called 'Alan's Gate' and I suddenly wondered, was this Alan Blatchford's gate? Some history....

The Tanners Marathon (originally held in the summer) is a cornerstone of LDWA folklore. It was the first proper 'challenge' event (it was open to anyone, had a pre-designed route, a time limit, checkpoints etc), and first held in July 1960. Around this time long distance walking was really kicking off in a big way in the UK, thanks to a bit of a character called Dr Barbara Moore, who walked from John O'Groats to Lands End, and caused quite a stir whilst doing it, because people didn't really do things like that then. Anyway, the Epsom and Ewell YHA group at Tanners Hatch Youth Hostel realised that a long distance walk was something a lot of people would like to have a go at, so they organised and put on 'The Marathon Walk' (actually 30 miles) in Surrey, which was supposed to be a one-off, but proved so popular that it ran every year (renamed The Tanners Marathon in 1964), until 2010, it's 50th anniversary, which was it's last. Alan Blatchford was one of the founding members of the event, and indeed the LDWA itself (he met Chris Steer, another founding member of the LDWA, on the Tanners Marathon in 1968), and is a true LDWA legend. He sadly died in 1980, so I wondered if maybe this was his gate. Since 1976 there has also been a Winters Tanners, which started as a warm up for the summer one, and the route of which is different each year and designed by John Westcott, who took over organising it after Alan Blatchford died. There have been 3 years when the Winter Tanners hasn't run for various reasons, and so 2018 is the 40th event. I must to sing the praises of the route description loudly (this year designed by John Westcott and written by Mary Dee) - it was spot on. I only got lost one (which was my mistake), such was it's attention to detail and accuracy. Every few sentences there was a description thrown in, which was remarkably similar to some of the thoughts which I have when doing long runs, some of my favourite quotes including:

"Continue ahead, determinedly, ignoring all turns, to go through car park.  (2.9M)"

"Keep on relentlessly, ignoring all turns, to bear right & cross tarmac track."

"Cross field (210º) & foot bridge, round forlorn field gate & through hook gate."

And my absolute favourite part of any route description ever:

"Keep unwaveringly on & on.  At last, a track joins from right & 100Y later turn left on concrete track."

And so at last, my fourth memory, as so often at these events, were the fabulous people there. Including the lovely Kasia who I ran about the last 10 miles with, amongst other chat swapping stories about marathons, what we were both going to have for tea afterwards, and what on earth we were going to do to save our shoes and clothes which had been marinated in the Surrey Slurry all day. I was in the process of "continuing determinedly and unwavering on and on and on along the side of 7 fields" (seven!!) when I literally ran into her and was feeling a bit forlorn, so thank you for cheering me up, and for saving me from sliding all of the way down Box Hill. 

Also thank to all the other great troopers out there who I was lucky enough to talk to/ run/ walk with, and all the lovely marshals. It was a pretty tough challenge out there, but you all made the Winter Tanners truely terrific!

Here is a link to the official race report - Happy 40th Winter Tanners (thank you for the birthday paperweight)!

A New Year...Another Medal on the Wall

There comes a time, about one week into the new year, when you sit down and stare your new year's resolution right in the eye, and have a frank discussion about how you came to be acquainted. And whether or not either you or it have got what it takes to stick out a whole year together. 

My new years resolution this year I think would technically be disqualified from counting as a new years resolution. It is: to stop procrastinating and crack on with working towards 100 marathons, which as I'm some way to doing already, has nothing really new about it at all.

But anyway, disqualified or not, it was still a resolution. One which at 5.30 am on a dark cold Sunday morning at the beginning January (the morning of Another Medal on the Wall), as I sipped a strong coffee and nibbled thoughtfully on a piece of toast, caused a few doubts to creep to the front of my mind.

But I quickly pushed them back. The main reason being that Another Medal on the Wall is a 6 hour timed event around a 1.88 mile lap in the Hillingdon Cycle Circuit in Minet Country Park in Hayes. Therefore, a nimble bit of maths later, and it became apparent that to do a marathon, you would need to do at least 14 laps. Or, if you look at it another way, there are at least 14 opportunities to stop. And that is not the sort of race where there is any room at all to have any doubts floating around in your head, or I would be back in the club house with a hot cup of tea, feet up in a comfortable chair and snuggled by a radiator after 1.88 miles. And listening to some tunes, because Hayes is famous (well, it is to me now, since I read about it in the race instructions) for it's former record factory, which makes the name of the race make more sense. 

I tried to calm my doubts by reminding myself that my first trail half marathon training run in the Surrey hills the day before had gone well, and I had also done a bit extra by running to the train station, so 18 miles in all. I'd felt strong, and this morning I felt well recovered and even a bit confident in my ability. Ha! The thought immediately made me anxious; confidence is not my natural state, and whenever I feel confident something usually goes wrong, which makes me anxious about feeling confident, which defeats the object of being confident, I think. Anyway, other than making me feel very twitchy, writing confident so many times in one sentence has revealed that spell check changes confident to condiment, which is something that I am much more comfortable with talking about. "Don't wait, I'll ketchup with you soon!" or,  "let me mustard up the strength to climb this hill " or, "we must relish this good section of path before the bog, where we'll find ourselves in a right pickle".

Etc....

Anyway, my confidence in condiments buoyed significantly, I headed purposefully from Southall train station in the early morning gloom through an industrial estate peppered with patches of ice towards the Cycle Circuit. As I walked further, it quickly became obvious that my confident interpretation of the weather forecast as it being a warm sunny day had been an optimistic way of looking at things (point proved). By the time I made it to the registration  building, I was as chilli as a frozen margarita with extra ice and more ice on top. I pulled on the extra clothes I had brought to change into afterwards, ignored that fact that that meant that afterwards I was going to be even chilli-er (what a jam I would be in then, but it's no big dill really), had a hot cup of coffee, and it was thyme to head for the start line. 

And what a grate event it turned out to be. Ahem. We must put oil these puns behind us now, and lettuce focus on the task at hand.  

Until I got to half way I refused to think about how many laps had happened, and I found I was enjoying it enough not to be thinking about it anyway. I've had a long break from these type of events since last May, and I have missed the camaraderie about them, so it was great to see some familiar faces and make new friends, like back being a part of the big running family. The laps were out and back, so all of the time you pass people going the other way, exchange smiles and nods and banter about the course/ state of each other, so although the scenery may not be that interesting, I love these type of runs. There was an excellent checkpoint each lap, where your bar-code got scanned, one of the race directors shouted your lap number and something encouraging at you, you could grab a quick drink (alas, no margaritas), and a snack (see, ample opportunity for puns here, but I've restrained), and it was off for the next lap. 

Soon after the 7 lap point, my dodgy hip started playing up, which gave me something to think about for the next couple of laps, but after a few miles it settled down again. After lap 9 it was feeling fine and I felt good, so reached 14 laps with no problems. I was planning on going for the full 6 hours at that point, and was having a great time chatting to others about races etc, before a headache which had been brewing finally exploded and so I stopped at 5.33 hours, 33.7 miles and called it a day. I was pretty pleased with it, I enjoyed it, felt good (apart from my head) and it was even a slightly faster pace than I used to run before I started having problems last year, which is a combination of words that I haven't been able to say together in a long time. Hurrah! 

All in all, it's just another medal on the wall. But it's a good one, and from a great event. I hope to be back to some more of Running Miles events in the future.

And on that note, mayo you all have a wonderful day!

Happy New Year Folks!

It's slightly late, but have just about pulled myself of the December bogs, and defrosted my fingers, in time to pen a quick new year note. 

Happy New Year!!! 🎉🎉🎉

It's been nice to come back and see everyone after the Down Under Trip, but I haven't enjoyed the readjustment to the UK weather. Not at all. Although I'll say one thing for a UK winter, as compared to an Australian summer, and that's that there's been no need to wake up at 5am in order to get a run in before it gets too hot. Although, in hindsight, that doesn't seem really like it was actually such a big deal. 

Head out for a run here at 5am, or anytime before mid-day really, in December and you'll be lucky to see anything, such is the gloom of it all. All of my December and January runs have been either a) dark, or (if between the hours of 12-3 pm), b) grey. Take this morning for example. I was in Aberdeen, and thought I would go to the parks to explore. I hadn't even got to the park, but already had slipped on a treacherous corner of ice, dunked my foot in a freezing puddle of water, had buckets of hail dumped over my head, and had almost been engulfed by the greyness of the granite houses against the stormy skies. The parks were a particularly devious mixture of mud and ice, created perfectly to foil progress at every step. Even the trees stared moodily down from the greyness, plopping great drops of icey water down my neck as I ran underneath. And then it hailed again. This isn't a slight on Aberdeen, that's just that's where I happened to be, but pretty much everywhere I've run in the last month has looked remarkably similar. A bit grey. 

The only run I can think of that's been nice and bright was a run around Ord Hill in Inverness just before new year. It was beautiful; soft white snow blanketing the pine trees, while the sun shone on the ice crystals and sent shimmering shards of light sparkling against the clear blue sky. Photos of it would have won prizes if it had been warm enough to take off two pairs of gloves, to find my phone hidden beneath somewhere in a pocket inside my inner jacket, sandwiched between a thermal layer, and a extra warm outer jacket. It was so cold that the icicles shivered, and the snowflakes huddled together for warmth. 

Anyway, that's enough of all that. I could go on, but it's January the 4th, and that is my annual rant about the winter weather and mud out of the way for a whole another year. Well, probably not, but at least for the time being.

And on to more important things! Including.... my Mum, who this time last year was just getting over her breast cancer surgery, has got the all clear at her 12 month check up and is doing great. Thank you to you all for your support this year, both with your generous sponsorship, and kind words of support. It has all been amazing. We even made the news in the Rosemere magazine! 

As soon as all her results came back clear, my Mum pressed 'enter' on her 100 entry form, and along with my Dad will be lining up at the start of this year's 100! I will be trying to do as good a job of supporting them around it as they have for me many a time. 

Meanwhile, the longest run I've done for a few weeks has been an hour or so, so it seemed a good idea to enter a 6 hour event this Sunday, and then agree to do a half marathon training run the day before. So not to worry then, that all sounds fine.....