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.
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