Marathons #66, #67, #68 and #69

Got a bit behind myself with race write-ups....

Marathon 66: The Thames Meander Marathon, 10.03.18

For the first time since returning from Down Under in November, it was vest weather - a thousand hurrahs! I celebrated by wearing a vest, but being unaccustomed to the sunshine, forgot to put on suncream, and immediately went pink. I've done this marathon several times and love the route along the Thames between Kingston-Upon-Thames and Putney - and especially in the sunshine, it's just magic. I got on fine in the first half and was going at a good pace and felt good. Disaster almost befell in the second half when I was struck by bad period pains, which isn't an overly glamourous thing to write about, so I'll keep it short (which is the opposite of what the second half felt like), and conclude quickly by saying that I finished in 4:04:58 which is my fastest marathon time in almost two years. I celebrated with a large cup of tea (after a long run is the only time that I ever crave tea) and walked across Richmond Park in the sunshine to Andrew's Auntie Norma's house, where she spoiled us with pasta and copius amounts of wine, which turned out to be an error, as slight sunburn + dehydration + wine = headache. 

Marathon 67: The Magna Carta Marathon, 07.04.18

This was the inaugural running of the Magna Carta Marathon, in Runnymead, and again the sun shone. And again (it being a month later), I was inflicted with period pains, which this time seemed determined to stop me from finishing. I had also been nursing a slight hip injury since I fell over on the recee weekend, and had spent a couple of weeks trying to run but getting pain, so laying off. So that's a roundabout way of saying I was not on form today. I made it to mile 4 before concluding for sure that today was not a good running day, and from that point forward every step felt like an ordeal, despite it being a lovely run with lovely people. It was laps, 2 x 2.5 miles and 4 x 5 and a bit miles. I really wasn't sure that I was going to finish it. But I managed, thanks entirely to other people being nice to me (including Phil and the other marshals at the far end of the course, and some top folks out on the course as well). I staggered over the finish line where a flashy bit of bling made it seem almost worth it...

...a nice chat to the lady who had finished just before me and who did a PB (get in!) and then saw Kasia and Gemma come over the line - great work ladies! I briefly felt a bit better having had a good chat to people, but soon again felt sick as a pig on the way home, and kept thinking I was going to conk out/ throw up. I thankfully made it back, and spent the rest of the day in bed feeling like someone was pulling my insides out and twisting them into knots, was barely able to eat, discovered I had three blisters, and couldn't sleep, which was great preparation for the next day.....

Marathon 68: Groovy Baby Marathon, 08.04.18

....I'll confess right now that the only reason that I went to today's run was because I wanted, really wanted, the medal. 

I woke feeling exactly the same as the day before, looked out the window at the pouring rain, and immediately felt even worse. I had a moment (fairly long) where I really hated marathon running. It was 6am on a Sunday, I felt like @*!#, it was peeing it down, and I was about to head out and do the whole thing again, and at that moment I really had no idea why.

Anyway, that time on a Sunday morning is no time for deep thinking, and so on auto-pilot I made it to Ashlyns School in Berkhamstead, which, even in the grey murk, seemed a grand setting for a run. It felt like Hogwarts, and I had half an idea that a wizard might zoom around a corner on a broom at any moment, flicking a snitch into the far corner of the playing fields. Alas, there were no wizards, but there were some truly magical outfits on show for today's Austin Powers themed run. Austin Powers himself had nothing on the array of bright lycra on show today. I myself was wearing a new pair of rainbow checked leggings which I had actually bought just to wear as a normal running outfit. Always an interesting moment when you realise your actual normal clothes fit in perfectly with a fancy dress theme.

This was a 6 hour timed event, where you can do as many laps as you like - to do a marathon distance involved running 8 laps of a 3 mile circuit around the playing fields. It reminded me of a very extreme form of school cross country (which if I remember correctly, was two laps of the school playing field, which at the time I thought went on forever). I can't say that I enjoyed today. I felt worse than yesterday, and really struggled with the laps. Laps can be hard when you're finding it tough - it seems to magnify the distance, every lap reminding you of how far there is to go. I got round one lap, and had achieved my aim I suppose, of getting a medal. I managed another, 10 km, and thought I'd press on to 4 for a half marathon. I so wanted to do the full today but I just felt so rubbish. I got to the end of four laps and looked the bell (with lapped events, you have to signal you have finished your last lap by ringing a bell so it's clear you have finished). I almost picked it up, but at that very moment Rik (the race organiser) dressed as Austin Powers in a purple velvet suit and voluptuous red wig asked if I was OK. I almost burst into tears so emotional was I, and more from embarrassment at this inability to hold things together, rather than any sudden increase in willpower, I ran off to start another lap. And that was that, there's no tidy distance between a half and a full, so I kept going around and around until the end. It was probably the worse I've felt in any race ever, apart maybe from the last 60 miles of last years Hundred, but again other people got me round - so thankyou to everyone including Davo, Phil, Craig, Mark, John, Rik and the ladies on the aid station, the marshals, and loads of other nice people who unfortunately I don't know the names of, for your kind words of encouragement on the way round. You are all groovy. Yeah!

Marathon 69: The Essex Walker, 22.04.18

Such was the horror of my latest running endeavours I was very apprehensive about today's marathon. So I went with a plan, to run at a slightly slower pace, and stick to it even if I felt OK. I was sick of feeling sick, and just wanted more than anything to feel OK and enjoy a run again. 

There was no need to worry! Today's run was wonderful. I stuck to my plan and ran it in 5:07, felt fine, enjoyed a beautiful route, some warm sunshine, friendly participants and volunteers, and managed for the first time on an LDWA run to not get lost a single time. It was one of those days where you feel at peace with the world, and have an overwhelming sense of wellbeing. 

It was a circular route around the countryside, from Maldon. It was a scorcher. It was pretty. here are some photos....

Top notch organisation and an excellent event - I highly recommend it to everyone, and hope to see you all there next year....

...and now to bed. Marathon #70 looms tomorrow......

The Recce Weekend - the Arctic, Part Two

Day 2 of the recce weekend – a mere 38 miles to tackle today, with the added bonus that the forecast was right - no snow! This would be a breeze (and hopefully a breeze of the more gentle type than the one that was blowing yesterday). It even looked quite nice outside, compared to yesterday. Maybe I could run today in just two jackets rather than three. But no, I was getting carried away with myself. First came breakfast (vegetarian English), large amounts of coffee, some more coffee, and some toast (I was running low on supplies, so my tactic – soon regretted – was to take on maximum fuel at breakfast). And then the dreaded moment when you must put on your cold, wet, mud-coated trainers from the day before….

Section 11: Folkstone to Dover (8.7 miles). I had to say, I was feeling quite good after yesterday’s efforts. But my metal was soon tested as in less than ½ a mile in, a street with a get out option presented itself before us...

I gave it the cold shoulder, despite realising I felt really quite sick from eating so much at breakfast, and we ploughed on through Folkstone, soon up on to the cliffs...

...and then down into Folkstone Warren, where the route description advised to follow the main path for one mile, while “the bearing will vary but, on average, it is a bit north of east.” Or, another way of saying, don’t run into the sea.

Soon we headed back up a long zig-zag path up to the cliff tops again. It was fabulous the weather had improved enough to actually see; there were some splendid views up here, and even a hint of sunshine on the horizon, although that was probably France.

 

After the brief hills, it was back to fields, the pretty village of Church Hougham…

a serious amount of snow…

The way was extremely well marked, and navigation baarely an issue…

Soon Dover Castle came into view, hurrah the next checkpoint must be near! A long downhill into the outskirts of Dover followed, and then we went, it felt quite literally, all around the houses in Dover, every house. Eventually, we veered away from the houses and up into a ruined castle where we ran around the moat (not the Dover Castle, but Western Heights ). Then it was down another hill into Dover (which felt remarkably similar to the previous hill down into Dover), but which happily turned out this time to take us to the actual part of Dover where we needed to be for the checkpoint, and even had some Banksy art  to look at on the way. 

Sarah and David departed Alan, Tara and me, and they wandered off into the town talking contentedly about hot chocolate, which naturally was then the only thing I wanted to drink for the rest of the day. Alan, Tara and I found a handy bench outside the Dover Town Council Offices (or, as we are in Kent, I shall be posh and call it by it’s correct name: the Masion Dieu House). I ate a chocolate covered Turkish Delight (which was the closest thing to hot chocolate I could find in my bag), a bit of mini flapjack, and then realised I was half way through my daily rations, and we’d only done 9 miles. 

What could go wrong? No point in worrying anyway, only 5 miles for section 12, on to St-Margaret’s-at-Cliff, which as well as having a distinctly Northern twang to it, is also deliciously mysterious; is St Margaret in the cliff, or on it? Or above it, or below it? So many questions – we must set forth to find answers. Forth turned out to be up, and my favourite line in the entire route description followed “follow tarmac uphill. At top, up steps”. So, not at the top then.

Once up the steps, and then actually at the top, we reached Dover Castle. Around and back onto the cliffs....

...and then straight into the wind, which seemed to be gearing up towards being just as windy as yesterday. And on to St- Margaret’s-at-Cliff, which is re-named as St-Margaret’s-at-the-top-of-the-Cliff, where we had a break in an alley way, which although not glamorous, was at least sheltered, between the scout hut and the village hall.

Section 13 was 6 miles, to Deal, which despite being only a few short paragraphs of route description, turned out to be a very Big Deal of a section (and that’s it for the Deal puns, for now). The first few miles were nice, along sheltered inland tracks covered in a sprinkling of snow….

As I loitered around at the back of our little group taking photos, I became aware that the sprinkling of snow was getting thicker, and it was in fact snowing again. Oh. Still, at least it was sheltered here, under the trees. I contented myself with taking more photos and focusing on the positives, how pretty it all looked….

...and in no time at all (or, probably in more like an hour or so), we arrived at Walmer Castle, which sounded all very nice, and it really was, apart from it's position which was right on the sea front and in firing line of the BFTE whose comeback was now reaching frenzied levels on the sea front. The last couple of miles were remarkably similar to yesterday, so I won’t harp on any more about how really miserable it was running head on into that wind, other than to say it was really really really grim. Really. Annoyingly I started to feel very sick and shaky and low on energy at almost the exact same moment, which I believe is called Sod’s Law. Alan had ploughed on ahead, Tara and I arrived in Deal a little way behind. Relieved to have made it without a) getting blown over, or b) flaking out, I pointed out the Sea View fish and chip shop to Tara as we ran past. I may not have been any use on any actual navigation this weekend, but I commit the location of good fish and chip shops to memory. I have been here a couple of times with Andrew - there are a series of timed events held nearby run by the Saxon, Vikings and Normans Club, and somehow, always accidentally of course, we have ended up in this fish and chip shop afterwards, because, quite simply it’s the best – and so it's only fair to share this gem of knowledge with others. About half a minute later we caught up with Alan who was hiding round a corner sheltering from the wind, and planning a re-fuelling stop in Tesco. Which somehow, turned into a trip to the Sea View (I had minimal input, honestly), I don’t know how it happened, but in less than a minute, we had pushed open the door, bustled ourselves inside, forced the door closed against the wind, and breathed in the hot, delicious smelling air. We all sighed sighs of relief, threw off our bags, and pulled up metal chairs next to the steamed up windows, and stared out at the numerous objects flying past the window at regular intervals, and the waves crashing against the sea wall. Even the seagulls were sheltering. Three portions of hot chips covered in lashings of salt and vinegar were ordered, devoured, and us three cold runners looked a little more with it.

The chips had mixed results. They made Tara sick, which was a blow, especially as she had to catch the train/ bus replacement home from Deal, and I can’t imagine feeling sick whilst sat on a rail replacement bus for over 5 hours, driving back around the houses (and not just the houses in Dover this time) can be much fun. Alan and I fared better, and as we headed out on section 14, the fist 3.7 miles of which were along the sea wall and right back into the BFTE, I was glad not only of the energy, but also of the extra ballast which a large paper cone of fried potato provides.

I had been very anxious since finding out that only Alan and I would be doing the last few sections, that at especially at this point in the proceedings I was no match for the mighty Alan, and I would be an irritating hold up. I’m sure I was anyway, but such was my fear, that this, coupled with the new injection of chip fuel, increased my pace a bit, and although I’m sure Alan was slowing down for me, I managed to keep going and we made good time – thank you Alan for your patience! After we completed our 3.7 miles of sea wall, the rest of the route headed inland and back in the rough direction we had come, and so finally, after a day and a half of running into the BFTE, it was now behind us for the last 14 miles. Once we had turned inland and across a golf course (which was empty, oddly enough), I celebrated by immediately falling over, and landing, as I always seem to manage to, on my dodgy hip, which I was sure I would pay for later. Pretty soon we made it to Sandwich, which if I hadn’t just had a huge portion of chips, I would have partaken in a bite of. 

Section 15 was 5 miles, section 16 was 4 miles, and section 17 just over 3 miles. I become quite fixated with numbers on long events, and immediately try to make things sound shorter than they really are. For example, we still had 12 miles to go, which is pretty much a half marathon, which I was in no way able to do at this point. But a 5 mile run, followed by a 4 miler and polishing off with a 3 seemed perfectly reasonable. It’s amazing how you can trick yourself into things, despite knowing full well what the truth is.

We set off on section 15, and shortly passed through the village of Worth. There really were some cracking names on this route. I amused myself for a moment or two fitting them together (the Sandwich was Worth a great Deal, etc) before Alan rescued me from this rabbit hole of thoughts, by sharing many of his running tales, which made the time fly by, and before we knew it, we were feeling peckish again…

And then we were at the end of Section 15, where we rested for a short while in the Church at Northbourne, which had a cracking little porch and free entertainment as the organ was playing. 

Section 16 was back to fields, but I have to say the fields today were of a much more endearing quality than the fields of yesterday. Today’s fields were gently undulating, with better paths, and much more sheltered. Or perhaps I was just grateful not to still be on the sea wall. Checkpoint 16 on the actual event is in a marquee in a farmyard, so we improvised by sheltering behind a hedge, but didn’t linger, as the sky was becoming dusky, and we still had a few miles to cover before finishing. Section 17 was pretty straightforward (which is good, for the end of a 100 mile route) mostly straight lines along the North Downs Way.

The lights of Dover and the A2 came into view, and we made it to the end of the official route just as darkness fell. A mile or two along roads back to Dover train station was still to come, so with head torches out we pushed on, running in the darkness high above the twinkling lights of Dover, finally reaching the castle, and then dropping down into the town.

We had a bit of time before the train back to London, and happily a garage was open and selling all sorts of delectable goodies, and had a hot drinks machine, which was immediately put to work. Despite craving hot chocolate all day, as soon as it became available, I instantly went off the idea, and instead we stocked up on hot coffees and a picnic for the train home. I haven’t had tiramisu after a run before, but it will be featuring in my ‘recovery’ periods from now on.

I squelched home on the tube in my cold muddy trainers, feeling like home was a million miles away, then remembered I’d done about 75 miles this weekend, and home was now less than one mile away, so I should stop my complaining. Once inside, I did that thing where you’re so muddy and wet that you kind of turn around a few times on the doormat, not sure of how to get from your current sorry state to having had a piping hot shower and wearing warm dry clothes, but not sure where to start, or how to get to the bathroom without trashing the rest of the house on the way.

On my blog about the recee last year, I think I wrote about shadows of doubt, and of overcoming them (after all, last years recee weekend was the first multi-day event of consecutive runs I’d done). I’m please to say that this recee, I didn’t really have any shadows of doubt to contend with. In all honesty, this was no doubt mostly due to the terrible weather, and most of my thoughts being invested in basic things like survival, rather than having much time to worry about things like if I could run that far.

So, thank you to Alan, Tara, Sarah and David (Team Luxury 2018) for your company, and a fabulous weekend!

And to the BFTE – I hope you enjoyed yourself.