An action weekend - 1 marathon, 1 skydive and some obligatory partying

David Bayley is one of those runners who does a huge amount more than *just* running loads of marathons. He's about to run his 100th at Nottingham, ran Comrades this year and is going to run the 10 in 10 for the third consecutive year in 2011. But he also selflessly and cheerfully paces people round to PBs, raises thousands and thousands for charity and puts on marathons for those of us desperate enough to want to run them every weekend of the year. 

The Summer Enigma was the second in the series, and I freely admit I found it really boring the first time at Easter, but this promised to be a great social day out. Of the 27 runners, I knew about 24 of them, a great mix of 10 in 10ers, Fetchies and 100 Clubbers and there was a great atmosphere, especially at the finish where everyone sprawled out on the grass to welcome people in. It wasn't the most exciting of races but I didn't dislike it as much as I feared and there was some good company from Heather, David himself and Joe. Catching up with 10 in 10 Jim on the way there and back was a particular treat. My X marks the spot tan line from my top was well and truly reinforced too so it was a grand day out on the Grand Union Canal.

I legged it back to London to get scrape off all the salt and put on a cleaner pair of shorts for Frances' birthday drinks with many of the usual drinking suspects and some very fierce shoes. Several cocktails later and I was dropping so, as inviting as more drinks and dancing at some nightclub sounded and as fine as the company was, I did my Cinderella and went home. I had to be up at 4am to get to the completely misnamed North London Parachute Jump site, in Cambridgeshire. North OF London perhaps. 

I'd signed up to do a tandem skydive with a bunch of people from work and was so floored by the combination of lack of sleep, mild hangover, not eating very much and a marathon that the thought of throwing myself out of a plane really didn't get the nerves going at all, my brain just couldn't compute it. After a few hours hanging around in the sunshine drinking tea and watching a solo jumper land in the only bush in the entire county, it was our go. I was attached to a predictably lairy pro who distracted me from the 13,000 foot drop with talk of our second date until he shoved me out of the hole in the side of the plane. The freefall bit was an unbelievable rush, it didn't feel like we were falling, more like we were entirely weightless in a monstrous wind. The parachute bit that follows is very calm and peaceful. Your focus shifts from "Oh my god, this feels incredible!!!!!!" to "Oh, wow, look at the view!", the widest horizon you've ever seen, the stillness and silence, and the bloke behind you yelling "You want more, baby? You want me to give you MORE?" Cambridgeshire looks infinitely prettier from way up in the sky than it did in the Pathfinder marathon last August. It's all over far too quickly and my only fear is having discovered a potentially new, very expensive hobby.

Fairlands Valley marathon

I don't know about you, but these race reports can get a bit boring no? Haven't you heard enough of: I ran each 5k in the following splits, had a gel at the following miles, hit the wall at 18 miles, thought of my kids / cat / dead Great Auntie Florence to get me through the last few miles, pulled a hamstring / got cramp / had my leg gnawed off by a rabid cow, had to stop for a comfort break (far too frequently supplied with all the associated and unnecessary detail), got competitive in the final 100 yards to finish one place higher in a field of 10,000 runners and half kill myself in the process etc etc. We've all done it, and it's important to you, of course. But there's a limited amount of things to say about a marathon and an even more limited amount of interesting things to say about a marathon. I'm not sure why I keep writing about them, some of my races are so unmemorable I'd be quite happy to let them slide into the deepest corners of my memory, and be forgotten. So if you're bored by reading about marathons, here's your Stop sign.

Fairlands Valley was infinitely better than I expected. It was much more runnable than Tanners with smoother, wider paths, fewer hills and lots of blissful tarmac. So runnable, in fact, that I got through the first half in just over 2 hours. Unfortunately I did hit the wall around 18 miles, having omitted to eat anything at the checkpoints. Walking a few miles meant that lots of 100 clubbers and Fetchies went past me, it was an excellent turnout, and things got much easier in the last few miles once a few sticky, stodgy, almost indigestible lumps of bread pudding at the last checkpoint worked their magic. I think that's the first time I've gone sub 5 in an LDWA style event.

There is a reason to celebrate. Having planned all my races through to my 100th, I don't have to do any more seriously off road events. There's still the Enigma, the 2 to go and the Grantham double, but the canal stuff is trail-lite (don't you just hate deliberately mispelt words?), nothing like Langport or Tanners or those horrific coastal things. I might not have to be out for more than 5 hours ever again.

Tanners 30..in more than two words

The so called early 9am start was a good idea, it's not even early and it gave me a bit more leeway on an event that I knew was going to take a very long time even in a best case scenario. The first 10 miles went ok actually, in terms of the running. Anticipating grumpiness, and wanting to accept responsibility for my own route finding, I wanted to do this by myself so was rather put out by a Kraut who tucked in behind me, ran when I ran, walked when I walked, and was so obviously using me as scout that when he asked me where we were he got a pretty short reply. Worse still was some idiot in terrible purple shorts who popped up from the wrong direction with a mobile glued to his ear. No water, no gels or food, just a mobile and the route description. Well prepared then.

I'd reached a long downhill that I booted down to drop the Kraut and managed to get a bit of space, however, there was a gappy bit in the directions shortly afterwards. I went to investigate one path, only part convinced it was the right one, and Mobile Junky decided to tag along. When I realised it wasn't and turned back, he had the cheek to pause his conversation and ask me "are we lost then?". I said "it's your own responsibility mate, we're not running together" to which I got a (somewhat justifiable) mumbled reply of "f*****g snotty cow". But, jesus, if you do these events then you have to be able to find your own way. It's not a bleeding guided tour.

A few miles later I was still going ok until I tripped over a root or something and went arse over tip. Entirely winded, bit shaken, re-busted toenail, grazed, bruised, dented pride, and busted confidence. Mentally I'd reached a total block. If I cared more about trail, I'd get therapy or something but there is something subconscious and very determined that I am Not Going To Run Off Road. It just wouldn't happen. The body was fine, energy levels were ok, nothing was hurting, but something was stopping me. It felt like I wasn't fit enough to even jog a mere half mile and no matter how often I tried, the dials were in the red zone and sirens were sounding and men in boiler suits were rushing around with fire extinguishers. 

So I could walk it. But that's not a marathon to me. This is a deeply personal and subjective view of course and I recognise one that is harsher than that held by the 100 marathon club so I'm going by the 100 club rules until I've got my 100, and then I'm going back and doing it my way. To me, you should be able to run the whole damn lot of a race (you can on this one), it should be an actual race with a start line, proper timing, a finish line, an incentive to finish on the podium, a course where the front runners are busting a gut, where the middle packers are competing with their club mates and where the back of the packers are still involved in a race. Not just a test to see who's got the biggest balls / most obstinacy just to get round. So the next chance I got, I was going to drop out.

That chance never came and, christ, was I fed up by it. The few roads we crossed were too small for buses and were nowhere near towns and I was in a very temporary period of just-get-on-with-it at the penultimate checkpoint at 21 where there may have been a chance of a lift. At the final checkpoint, I really had had enough, all the walking had tightened up my right hip flexor and my feet were killing but mainly it was the CBAs. However, the promise of transport back to the start/finish for retired runners didn't stand. I could either wait until 7pm when the checkpoint closed (contrary to the 6pm stated on the route description) or I could carry on. Only in the case of injury requiring medical attention would they help. So they didn't know about any buses going past near by? That would be a No then.

It's not my intention to slag trail off, lots of people really enjoy it and it has its advantages. However, I can't see the point of shuffling up and down rooty tracks for the best part of a day when I could have covered 26.2 miles on tarmac before lunch. According to my garmin, I covered the 31 miles in a shade under 8 hours, that's about 12 miles running and about 19 miles walking. And it's officially number 76. But it's not a marathon. How can that be a marathon? The only good things about today were the fabulously warm weather, some lovely views, and all the Fetchies and 100 Club friends who passed me, some keeping me company for a while and all with a friendly greeting. That definitely restored some faith. But other than that it was appalling.

To top it all off, I almost got into a fight at Waterloo station on the way home. I was ordering at a sandwich bar and got confused by the offer of trading up for a meal deal. The girl behind me told me it was only a penny or something more for the drink. I said, "ok, I'll have a bottle of water then thanks" to the girl behind the bar. Customer offered to take the water if I didn't want it to which I replied, "er, no, otherwise I wouldn't have taken it". She says "yeah, I thought you looked like a bitch anyway." What? I'd had a long day, was fed up anyway and certainly didn't need any uninvited insults so told her to go screw herself. "Thanks, but you're really ugly, so no thanks." I'd had enough by now (round two) so said "Look, sweetheart, if you're after a punch in the mouth you're going the right way about it." Trouble is, if she'd squared up to me, I would have done it. I already had my own blood on my knee, palm, elbow and shoulder and I was more than ready to get someone else's on my knuckles. Fortunately for me and my as yet non-existent criminal record, she'd been served by now and buggered off. It was a stark contrast to the journey out of London where I got chatted up on a train platform (declined). What's the opposite of ring composition?

The Tanners Ultra.. in two words

Unspeakably awful