The day after the Portland coastal marathon was the Gloucester marathon, and if it had been on trail, it's debatable whether I would ever have started. The legs weren't too sore, apart from a painful Achilles, but they were very very tired and heavy. The hills in Portland hadn't been too bad, but the 3.5 miles along Chesil beach had sapped all the energy out of them and put considerable stress on my calves and ankles, making my right Achilles hot, inflamed and particularly aggravated by uphills.
Luckily, this race is no more than undulating, there are a few bumps that inevitably get longer and steeper on each of the 3 laps, but nothing too severe. I was ok for the first 10 miles or so, but didn't take on enough food or liquids during the race - there was nothing at the stations other than water and electrolyte stuff that was icy cold and not very appealing. Zurich New Year's mara with its warm isotonic drinks and huge arrays of gels, bars and fruit seemed a long way away. I struggled from about 14 miles, keeping myself going with the promise, always undelivered, of walk breaks, until Susie provided race saving Welsh cakes at 18 miles.
My 4'22 finish was fine, given how tiring Portland was the day before and given my highest mileage week ever at 86 miles and 16 hours on my feet. I'm going to have to rest the Achilles now for a bit, it's very inflamed and sore, however since it was exacerbated solely by stupid terrain that is not a standard running surface, I'm reasonably confident it will heal in a few days. I'm really looking forward now to my 50th marathon in Marrakech at the weekend, it seems to have come round really quickly.
Monday 25 January 2010
Sunday 24 January 2010
Portland Coastal marathon
The Portland coastal marathon was always going to be a long, hard day, but I had to beat it. I'd DNF'd Endurance Life's Gower marathon and had vowed never to do a coastal mara again, and had given away my South Devon and Pembrokeshire places. However, I HAD to do one, to prove I could do them, even if I was right at the back and hating it. They make me feel like a really rubbish runner and a weak one too, but if I could just beat one of the damn things, it would ease my mind a bit about being a quitter. I'd also been very very low lately, with my finger firmly on the self destruct button. My motivation for all the running is partially the constant feeling of underachievement, I always have to do more and, if I can do it, it can't be that hard, can it? In a similar way, when things go really really well, I believe that I don't deserve it or haven't earned it and end up pushing it away. It's totally stupid, but Saturday was me beating myself up for almost 7 hours. The good cop on my right shoulder would identify the insecurity and paranoia and suggest that being rational and logical would address the issue, but then the bad cop on my left shoulder would whisper "who the hell do you think you're kidding? you think that's good enough? look how crap you're running this race for a start." It was a long, lonely, miserable day.
The course is 2 laps of Portland, starting off up a steep hill, then along the east coast which was relatively straightforward and reasonably quick to Portland Bill, the picture postcard lighthouse. It was calmer and shadier on this side so offered a bit of a break. Beyond Portland Bill, however, was a long muddy drag uphill and then a flat stretch of trail-shoe-defying mud. That wasn't too bad. After a fell-runner's paradise of a downhill came the beach. Chesil Beach is a long spit of shingle, pebbles bigger than gob stoppers sucking your feet down, every step sinking in to your ankles, and every push off resulting in nothing but backwards movement. It's totally exposed along there, and the wind was whipping across the bay, it was freezing. After a few minutes, the noise of the pebbles became deafening and it became this absolute nightmare - pebbles as far as you could see, there was 1.7 miles of it, dead ahead in a straight line. I lost it a bit here, there were quite a few tears as my legs turned to jelly, my hands started to freeze and the noise became unbearable. I couldn't let myself think of doing it again on the second lap.
Coming off the beach was peculiar, you hit firm ground and there's utter, beautiful silence beneath your feet, but your legs can hardly hold you up, they're just buckling. The ground though receives each step and bounces you back into the air, you'd feel light as air if only your legs would keep you upright. Thankfully, there's a mile of flat path to the half way point where I shoved down a mars bar and fought the bad cop who wanted me to pack it in. I had to finish it, these races are brutal and sadistic but I wasn't going to be beaten by it again. Plus, I'd just eaten a mars bar, I had to burn that off and that would take at least 2.5 miles. Jeez, I'm finding carb loading for these races very tough at the moment, I do it because I have to but it's so difficult when I'd happily never see food again.
I made it past the half way point / finish line and carried on. Thankfully, I made reasonable progress to the Bill again, but seriously struggled to maintain anything over a shuffle thereafter, my legs were so so wobbly. This time on the beach, I knew how long there was to go, and breaking it down helped enormously. V'rap bounded past me in the final few hundred metres looking very fresh and happy and I tried to summon a grimace for El Bee who was there at the finish with his camera but there had been such a roller coaster of emotions that it was next to impossible. But it was done, in 6 hours 40, I never have to do a coastal marathon again, and it was thankfully a road marathon to follow the next day.
The course is 2 laps of Portland, starting off up a steep hill, then along the east coast which was relatively straightforward and reasonably quick to Portland Bill, the picture postcard lighthouse. It was calmer and shadier on this side so offered a bit of a break. Beyond Portland Bill, however, was a long muddy drag uphill and then a flat stretch of trail-shoe-defying mud. That wasn't too bad. After a fell-runner's paradise of a downhill came the beach. Chesil Beach is a long spit of shingle, pebbles bigger than gob stoppers sucking your feet down, every step sinking in to your ankles, and every push off resulting in nothing but backwards movement. It's totally exposed along there, and the wind was whipping across the bay, it was freezing. After a few minutes, the noise of the pebbles became deafening and it became this absolute nightmare - pebbles as far as you could see, there was 1.7 miles of it, dead ahead in a straight line. I lost it a bit here, there were quite a few tears as my legs turned to jelly, my hands started to freeze and the noise became unbearable. I couldn't let myself think of doing it again on the second lap.
Coming off the beach was peculiar, you hit firm ground and there's utter, beautiful silence beneath your feet, but your legs can hardly hold you up, they're just buckling. The ground though receives each step and bounces you back into the air, you'd feel light as air if only your legs would keep you upright. Thankfully, there's a mile of flat path to the half way point where I shoved down a mars bar and fought the bad cop who wanted me to pack it in. I had to finish it, these races are brutal and sadistic but I wasn't going to be beaten by it again. Plus, I'd just eaten a mars bar, I had to burn that off and that would take at least 2.5 miles. Jeez, I'm finding carb loading for these races very tough at the moment, I do it because I have to but it's so difficult when I'd happily never see food again.
I made it past the half way point / finish line and carried on. Thankfully, I made reasonable progress to the Bill again, but seriously struggled to maintain anything over a shuffle thereafter, my legs were so so wobbly. This time on the beach, I knew how long there was to go, and breaking it down helped enormously. V'rap bounded past me in the final few hundred metres looking very fresh and happy and I tried to summon a grimace for El Bee who was there at the finish with his camera but there had been such a roller coaster of emotions that it was next to impossible. But it was done, in 6 hours 40, I never have to do a coastal marathon again, and it was thankfully a road marathon to follow the next day.
Wednesday 20 January 2010
The 10 in 10 club marathon
This weekend, I had the opportunity to go up to Brathay Hall at Windermere to learn more about the charity, to meet past and present 10 in 10 runners, the nutrition and physio sponsors and the inspirational founder Sir Chris Ball who ran the inaugural 10 in 10 aged 70, and to run the marathon route. It was an invaluable weekend, both on a practical level and as a chance to get advice and inspiration from those who had already run the 10 in 10.
We also had got to run the route on Saturday as the first 10 in 10 club marathon. There are 27 people who have run 10 marathons in 10 days at Brathay and they're establishing an England Athletics affiliated club for them. It's hugely exclusive and elitist, and I can't wait to get my membership.. It was pouring down with rain, and all the recent snow melt meant the roads were pretty flooded for large parts of it, but getting used to being wet is fairly vital for the Lake District! In spite of the terrible weather, it reminded me how much I love this race - the first half especially with rolling hills and woodland, then the second half where you get superb views over Lake Windermere. I'm usually pretty slow in the cold and I stopped for sandwich and tea breaks twice, finishing in 4 hours 30, so there's a lot of work to do if I'm going to break the 41 hour world record.
Being at Brathay was a chance to witness the charity's work first hand, and I'm hoping to get to Brixton in South London to see their work there too. It's pretty special how transforming Brathay's investment in these kids is, some of them come from absolutely nothing to having the basic suite of confidence, respect and purpose that enables them to go onto to hugely fulfilling lives. I was always happy to represent Brathay, but now I know more about it, I'm really committed to working alongside them by taking part in their biggest fund raising event of the year and raising the £2k I'm expected to. Several of the golden bond charity places for the London marathon are £2,000 and that includes the runner's costs (each of the TiTs stumps up £500 to cover board, food, physio etc etc before we start raising any cash, all your donations go straight to Brathay). I'm running 10 marathons in 10 days, so I think I need to aim a bit higher than that, it would be nice to get to £2,620 to match the 262 miles. This isn't one of those faceless charities where you feel your cash is disappearing into a black hole, it's directly improving kids' lives. If any of you can spare even a fiver, it'll all add up.
We also had got to run the route on Saturday as the first 10 in 10 club marathon. There are 27 people who have run 10 marathons in 10 days at Brathay and they're establishing an England Athletics affiliated club for them. It's hugely exclusive and elitist, and I can't wait to get my membership.. It was pouring down with rain, and all the recent snow melt meant the roads were pretty flooded for large parts of it, but getting used to being wet is fairly vital for the Lake District! In spite of the terrible weather, it reminded me how much I love this race - the first half especially with rolling hills and woodland, then the second half where you get superb views over Lake Windermere. I'm usually pretty slow in the cold and I stopped for sandwich and tea breaks twice, finishing in 4 hours 30, so there's a lot of work to do if I'm going to break the 41 hour world record.
Being at Brathay was a chance to witness the charity's work first hand, and I'm hoping to get to Brixton in South London to see their work there too. It's pretty special how transforming Brathay's investment in these kids is, some of them come from absolutely nothing to having the basic suite of confidence, respect and purpose that enables them to go onto to hugely fulfilling lives. I was always happy to represent Brathay, but now I know more about it, I'm really committed to working alongside them by taking part in their biggest fund raising event of the year and raising the £2k I'm expected to. Several of the golden bond charity places for the London marathon are £2,000 and that includes the runner's costs (each of the TiTs stumps up £500 to cover board, food, physio etc etc before we start raising any cash, all your donations go straight to Brathay). I'm running 10 marathons in 10 days, so I think I need to aim a bit higher than that, it would be nice to get to £2,620 to match the 262 miles. This isn't one of those faceless charities where you feel your cash is disappearing into a black hole, it's directly improving kids' lives. If any of you can spare even a fiver, it'll all add up.
Wednesday 6 January 2010
Stansted Stagger
Perfectly cold, frosty and sunny winter's day (hands froze at 7 miles), lots of fields, whoever wrote the directions seemed to get bored of writing them after 20-odd miles, well-stocked checkpoint, lots of friendly Fetchies (sorry I was anti-social), but entirely unmemorable. It was a perfectly pleasant and well-organised LDWA event, and I have no complaints, but it's one of my more forgettable races - it's already blurred into a series of endless flat fields and bare hedges. I am, however, one of the very few people who have already run 2 marathons this year which is rather nice.
Monday 4 January 2010
Zurich New Year's marathon
New Year's Eve seems to be me to be one those nights designed to make you feel uncool, plainly dressed and friendless. With no desire to drop silly amounts of cash on obligatory fun, or to watch Jools Holland bashing away on his piano, I usually sleep through midnight then get up for a hangover-free run on New Year's Day. Allan had other plans - for his 100th marathon, he was going to run Zurich Neujahrsmarathon that starts on the stroke of midnight and goes alongside the river on gravelly trails. It seemed a great idea, what a bonkers way to start the year and a memorable way to round off and impressive journey to the 100.
We were exceptionally lucky with the weather, having anticipated freezing temperatures and snow, it was relatively balmy and showers looked to be the worst we would get. On the other hand, it was the first race I'd run with a headtorch in a long time. It lit just enough to stop you tripping but it took several miles to develop a slightly higher stepping technique and the confidence to trust very blurred vision. It was a foggy night and the torchbeam reflected off the water particles turning everything into a white blur. Depending on your mood, it was either atmospheric or very eery and being a full moon, running through the graveyard definitely sent a few shivers up your spine.
I was moving pretty comfortably, though the pace was slower than it felt, probably due to the dark and the difficult to read path. It's a 4 lap race which helped enormously - the time passed quickly, you got to know where the larger rocks were and you never felt totally alone. It was pretty special to see headtorches stretched out along the river and bobbing in the dark on the opposite bank. My month's rest has left me well rested with plenty of energy, but a slight drop in endurance - I usually pick it up in the last 6 miles but this time there was no higher gear. When 2 guys decided to sit right on my heels from 40k, I couldn't shake them off and they weren't about to pass. It seemed probable that they'd use me as a pacer almost to the end then kick past which didn't please me at all, the cheeky gits.. The closer and closer we got to the finish, neither would make a move so I decided to make a break for it with about 200m to go. I think they were being gentlemanly - anyone could have outsprinted me but they kindly let me have my minor and entirely inconsequential victory. I came in in 4'18 which was enough to make me fastest British female over the marathon this decade. Sure that won't last long...
So there we were, drinking champagne at 4.30am on New Year's Day and clapping Allan on the back. He'd also come in as fastest Brit over the marathon in 2010 and I was fastest British lady (so far) which was a lovely bonus. It was a brilliant race to choose for your 100th, summing up the slightly unhinged nature of the serial marathon runner and it's one we won't forget. A great way to kick off the new year!
Centurion Allan and me in our string vests - best race memento ever
We were exceptionally lucky with the weather, having anticipated freezing temperatures and snow, it was relatively balmy and showers looked to be the worst we would get. On the other hand, it was the first race I'd run with a headtorch in a long time. It lit just enough to stop you tripping but it took several miles to develop a slightly higher stepping technique and the confidence to trust very blurred vision. It was a foggy night and the torchbeam reflected off the water particles turning everything into a white blur. Depending on your mood, it was either atmospheric or very eery and being a full moon, running through the graveyard definitely sent a few shivers up your spine.
I was moving pretty comfortably, though the pace was slower than it felt, probably due to the dark and the difficult to read path. It's a 4 lap race which helped enormously - the time passed quickly, you got to know where the larger rocks were and you never felt totally alone. It was pretty special to see headtorches stretched out along the river and bobbing in the dark on the opposite bank. My month's rest has left me well rested with plenty of energy, but a slight drop in endurance - I usually pick it up in the last 6 miles but this time there was no higher gear. When 2 guys decided to sit right on my heels from 40k, I couldn't shake them off and they weren't about to pass. It seemed probable that they'd use me as a pacer almost to the end then kick past which didn't please me at all, the cheeky gits.. The closer and closer we got to the finish, neither would make a move so I decided to make a break for it with about 200m to go. I think they were being gentlemanly - anyone could have outsprinted me but they kindly let me have my minor and entirely inconsequential victory. I came in in 4'18 which was enough to make me fastest British female over the marathon this decade. Sure that won't last long...
So there we were, drinking champagne at 4.30am on New Year's Day and clapping Allan on the back. He'd also come in as fastest Brit over the marathon in 2010 and I was fastest British lady (so far) which was a lovely bonus. It was a brilliant race to choose for your 100th, summing up the slightly unhinged nature of the serial marathon runner and it's one we won't forget. A great way to kick off the new year!
Centurion Allan and me in our string vests - best race memento ever
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