I'm sitting here, on my own sofa on a Sunday morning with a brew that's in a mug, not a polystyrene cup. I'm not shivering in running kit in a primary school/village hall/sports centre in the middle of nowhere, and it's warm and dry in here whereas it's about 10 degrees and pouring with rain outside. God, I am SO happy I'm not running the Doyen of the Downs 30 over the South Downs today.
I started running the Gower marathon yesterday, which runs along the coastal path and back across country to make it a loop. The thought of more coastal path wasn't very alluring after the Pembrokeshire horror, but there was the consolation of cross country which surely ought to be less of a mountainous purgatory. However, with all the rain we've had lately, it was a mudbath. After about 3 miles, we were sliding around and expending more energy trying to stay upright than to make forward progress.
This isn't my version of running. Yes, after several hours, you're building strength and pure mental obstinacy, but you don't get that feeling that I love about running - the impression that the world is turning underneath you as you lope along, this is more like grinding a workhouse mill to turn, inch by inch. I like the pure mechanics of running, the feeling of your legs being able to stretch out in the same motion over and over and over again, and that's why I like the road and the track and the treadmill.
I was hating every single minute of this run, and was feeling significant time pressure too. My lift needed to get down to the South Downs that afternoon which meant I really needed a sub 6 to avoid making them really late. My pace, on the other hand, was suggesting 6 hours was unlikely and I was already the last runner by a long way. I was shocked by the pace set - noone was walking the hills and everyone was running at a very decent clip. By the checkpoint, it didn't take much suggestion that I'd get timed out to chuck it in.
So this isn't a list of excuses. I felt awful about chucking something in for no real reason, I wasn't tired or particularly injured (my feet are in a bad way but they have been for weeks) and I was, and still am, afraid that I'll lose a lot of people's respect. However, I've finally accepted that I Don't Like Trail. The views, the solitude and the peace are fantastic, but it's not for me. I'm sticking to road now, and maybe I'll even try a track marathon some time.
The self-reproach was pretty bad yesterday, but now I don't have any regrets. Of 37 marathons and ultras this year, I've had 3 DNFs: Kent 50 (ITB issues), Pembrokeshire day 3 (mild hypothermia and general knackeredness) and Gower (CBAs), but I've also run 34 marathons in 9 months, will have increased my 2008 mileage by 50% to 2,400 miles and was very proud to have organised an almost seamless team at the 192 mile, non stop, 26 hour Round Norfolk Relay that came in within 5 minutes of predicted time. No self pity allowed!
Sunday, 6 December 2009
Wednesday, 2 December 2009
Florence marathon
Florence was just lovely, the start is up the hill in the Piazza Michelangelo overlooking the city and it was such a lovely morning P and I decided to walk up rather than endure the bun fight that was getting on the bus. It was one of the most pleasant starts to a big city marathon I've experienced: no bag drop, no metro journey to the start, far less chaotic than expected and a perfect bit of sunshine to enjoy the serene views over the city and hills beyond.
We ran the first k together as it was pretty congested and very slow but P pushed off after that. I was expecting a clear sub 3'30 from him (he delivered) and I was intending to take the first half very easy. My form hasn't been good lately so a sub 4 seemed quite ambitious, the best hope was a strong and enjoyable race regardless of the time. The next few ks were downhill to pick up a bit of speed, though I had to duck behind a bush for a loo break - it's a special quality of most of the continental marathons I've done that men are perfectly welcome to wee against any vertical surface, and girls just have to cross their legs.
I'd settled into a comfortable pace and after half an hour or so was consciously holding back, I wanted to take it easy until 30k then start picking it up. This made the time pass quite slowly, completely the opposite to Newcastle last weekend where each 5 mile lap seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. It reminded me of that Einstein quote that goes something along the lines of "Spending hours talking to a pretty girl feels like seconds, but seconds spent standing on hot coals feel like hours. That's relativity." Perhaps the difference was that there was so much to look at in this race so you spend ages looking around and soaking up the atmosphere rather than tuning out and getting into an almost meditative state. Sorry, I'm not getting new age here, I emphatically do not meditate in races, but there's something very calming about encouraging your brain to stop thinking in words and to drift where it likes. You might not feel you've thought about much, but you do feel remarkably relaxed.
At about 14k, the 4 hours pacers and the hordes around them went past. It didn't bother me, I wasn't chasing a time and I definitely didn't want to get caught up in any pocket of gridlock that accompanies pacers. I also met two Fetchies and had a bit of a chat, but otherwise it was uneventful, just cruising along, enjoying the feel of smooth tarmac under my feet and conditions that were warm enough for shorts and a vest. By 26k or so, the route swings back through the historic centre of town where the crowds and noise increased. Running through tight alleys with the Duomo peeking out the top was pretty special, I was loving it by this stage and finding it hard to keep my foot off the accelerator. Ah, to hell with it, I can run 10 miles hard.
The last 10 miles were fantastic, I was full of energy and was really enjoying it, it was hard to keep the big grin off my face. I'd gone through the half way point in 2 hours on the nose so if I maintained the same pace I'd get the 4 hours. To be honest, by this point I wanted a big fat negative split, to prove to myself that I can pace myself conservatively then push it when you're starting to tire and lots of people around you are flagging. At no point in this marathon, however, was I tired. It was brilliant, no physical or mental doubts all day. The finishing time was 3 hours 55 minutes, so that's about 9'10 / mile in the first half and about 8'40 / mile in the second, and I passed 1,769 people between the half way point and the finish line. A good day at the office!
I'm very very happy with the splits, so please excuse the geeky numbers:
Distance Time Position Pace (kph)
5k 28'02 5,644 9.9
10k 28'15 5,933 10.8
15k 28'58 6,088 10.9
20k 28'32 6,298 10.9
25k 28'32 6,161 11.0
30k 27'24 5,791 11.0
35k 27'14 5,205 11.1
40k 26'52 4,389 11.1
42.2k 11'22 4,529 11.2
I promise I won't do this too often...
We ran the first k together as it was pretty congested and very slow but P pushed off after that. I was expecting a clear sub 3'30 from him (he delivered) and I was intending to take the first half very easy. My form hasn't been good lately so a sub 4 seemed quite ambitious, the best hope was a strong and enjoyable race regardless of the time. The next few ks were downhill to pick up a bit of speed, though I had to duck behind a bush for a loo break - it's a special quality of most of the continental marathons I've done that men are perfectly welcome to wee against any vertical surface, and girls just have to cross their legs.
I'd settled into a comfortable pace and after half an hour or so was consciously holding back, I wanted to take it easy until 30k then start picking it up. This made the time pass quite slowly, completely the opposite to Newcastle last weekend where each 5 mile lap seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. It reminded me of that Einstein quote that goes something along the lines of "Spending hours talking to a pretty girl feels like seconds, but seconds spent standing on hot coals feel like hours. That's relativity." Perhaps the difference was that there was so much to look at in this race so you spend ages looking around and soaking up the atmosphere rather than tuning out and getting into an almost meditative state. Sorry, I'm not getting new age here, I emphatically do not meditate in races, but there's something very calming about encouraging your brain to stop thinking in words and to drift where it likes. You might not feel you've thought about much, but you do feel remarkably relaxed.
At about 14k, the 4 hours pacers and the hordes around them went past. It didn't bother me, I wasn't chasing a time and I definitely didn't want to get caught up in any pocket of gridlock that accompanies pacers. I also met two Fetchies and had a bit of a chat, but otherwise it was uneventful, just cruising along, enjoying the feel of smooth tarmac under my feet and conditions that were warm enough for shorts and a vest. By 26k or so, the route swings back through the historic centre of town where the crowds and noise increased. Running through tight alleys with the Duomo peeking out the top was pretty special, I was loving it by this stage and finding it hard to keep my foot off the accelerator. Ah, to hell with it, I can run 10 miles hard.
The last 10 miles were fantastic, I was full of energy and was really enjoying it, it was hard to keep the big grin off my face. I'd gone through the half way point in 2 hours on the nose so if I maintained the same pace I'd get the 4 hours. To be honest, by this point I wanted a big fat negative split, to prove to myself that I can pace myself conservatively then push it when you're starting to tire and lots of people around you are flagging. At no point in this marathon, however, was I tired. It was brilliant, no physical or mental doubts all day. The finishing time was 3 hours 55 minutes, so that's about 9'10 / mile in the first half and about 8'40 / mile in the second, and I passed 1,769 people between the half way point and the finish line. A good day at the office!
I'm very very happy with the splits, so please excuse the geeky numbers:
Distance Time Position Pace (kph)
5k 28'02 5,644 9.9
10k 28'15 5,933 10.8
15k 28'58 6,088 10.9
20k 28'32 6,298 10.9
25k 28'32 6,161 11.0
30k 27'24 5,791 11.0
35k 27'14 5,205 11.1
40k 26'52 4,389 11.1
42.2k 11'22 4,529 11.2
I promise I won't do this too often...
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
Newcastle Town Moor marathon
Weather forecasts for the Newcastle marathon indicated we'd stay dry and not too windswept if we all ran world record times, so it was looking like another battle against the elements on the Town Moor, an exposed bit of rough parkland outside the city. The route was 5 wiggly laps of the moor with a fair bit of doubling back so there was plenty of opportunity to spot familiar faces and exchange a wave. There were so many familiar faces too, both Fetchies and 100 marathon club types, so it was a very social day out. I think a few found the multi-lap and open nature of the route challenging, you knew exactly what was coming and how far was left. I like multiple laps (to an extent, not sure I'm ready for a track marathon just yet), and for me the time passed very quickly.
It was pretty uneventful really, and I don't want to write a weather report. Yes, it was windy, but only in the last 3 laps and only really for a one mile stretch each time across the open moor. Compared to Pembrokeshire, it was just a bit of a breeze and having to cope with it for only 10 minutes at a time made me wonder what the fuss was about. Relativism, love it. And other than one grassy muddy hill that was about 0.2 miles long, it was completely flat. You can't complain about 1 mile of ascent in a marathon especially when you get the reward of the downhill afterwards. I personally think that this is a very quick race, in good conditions, fast times are definitely achievable.
This made my time a real indication that I'm not running well at the moment. I felt fine throughout, with no dramas, just slow slow legs. I made up some time in the later laps and passed several people for 4'23 (again) but this really should have been a sub 4 course for me. I saw a nutritionist on Friday and believe she will have a more constructive suggestion than "eat more" to address the lack of energy. Along with a few weeks' rest in December to eliminate the niggles, catch up on sleep and top up the motivation, it ought to set me up for 4 months of solid and productive training in the new year.
Not my most scenic marathon!
It was pretty uneventful really, and I don't want to write a weather report. Yes, it was windy, but only in the last 3 laps and only really for a one mile stretch each time across the open moor. Compared to Pembrokeshire, it was just a bit of a breeze and having to cope with it for only 10 minutes at a time made me wonder what the fuss was about. Relativism, love it. And other than one grassy muddy hill that was about 0.2 miles long, it was completely flat. You can't complain about 1 mile of ascent in a marathon especially when you get the reward of the downhill afterwards. I personally think that this is a very quick race, in good conditions, fast times are definitely achievable.
This made my time a real indication that I'm not running well at the moment. I felt fine throughout, with no dramas, just slow slow legs. I made up some time in the later laps and passed several people for 4'23 (again) but this really should have been a sub 4 course for me. I saw a nutritionist on Friday and believe she will have a more constructive suggestion than "eat more" to address the lack of energy. Along with a few weeks' rest in December to eliminate the niggles, catch up on sleep and top up the motivation, it ought to set me up for 4 months of solid and productive training in the new year.
Not my most scenic marathon!
Monday, 16 November 2009
The Cornish marathon
Saturday's storms had all cleared by late afternoon, and the clear blue skies looked hopeful for the marathon. In any case, after Pembrokeshire, any weather would seem positively tropical in comparison. The evening was a bit surreal: I got to my B&B to find a glass of whisky and a wallet on the bar but noone to be found. After shouting Hello a few times, I went upstairs in search of the landlady, only to find Jim "Manic" Mundy of about 200 marathons up there. I didn't know he ran B&Bs in Liskeard on the side.
I'd agreed to meet a few Fetchies in the Premier Inn pub, about 15 minutes out of town, worth the walk to find a good bunch of Fetchies and several 100 club guys too and we got settled in for a few drinks. By the time I left at about 10, a bit sleepy and a tiny bit drunk, a shortcut seemed like a good idea, so I followed a slip road round the back of Argos and Homebase rather than going all the way round the front like I had on the way there. Not a good idea, I found myself on the A38, a dual carriageway with cars belting towards me at 70mph and me wondering why I was in a black jacket rather than reflective running kit. I climbed over the barrier, up the embankment, through the brambles, over a fence and through some trees, picked the bits of twig out of my hair and was on exactly the right road, and had probably saved myself 5 minutes' walk at the cost of several scratches and a few near misses. While it's nice to have a sense of direction, sometimes it's best to recce the route beforehand.
As for the race, I was more nervous before this than I have been for a long time. I wasn't sure if I could run still after the last few weekends, and I had zero confidence. The first few miles were terrible - my right foot is very sore, I had a bit of shin splint pain and felt very uncomfortable. Things were better after several miles' warm up as they usually are, so I followed some excellent advice I'd been given - take it one mile at a time and enjoy the scenery.
I had no time or pace ambition for this one, other than to get sub 5 hours (if only to catch my train) so I had plenty of leeway if I needed to walk the hills or slowed considerably. It was a very very hilly event for a road marathon, with a respite from mile 15 to 21 which downhill and flat along a valley, a stretch considered boring by quite a few runners. I liked it, but then I like long flat stretches of tarmac, you get to a purer form of running, right down to the mechanics of it, without being distracted by corners or changes in surface or gradient. It's why I like treadmill running too.
The route was superb, through country lanes and over Bodmin moor, exactly the sort of scenery I love, and the weather was perfect with blue clear skies, sunshine and no wind. It was just the sort of race I love too, a small field of about 200 runners, really well organised and very friendly. The pockets of support were extremely encouraging and vocal, something you don't expect in a rural event, and the runners were clubby but collegiate, you could exchange a few words without feeling obliged to talk for ages.
There were long patches where I was running by myself, enjoying the silence and views and remembering that this is exactly why I like marathons. And for some reason yesterday, I found myself able to run most of the hills, including all of them from mile 21 onwards. I'd found my endurance legs by then and was in a good rhythm; the feeling of being able to run some of the stiffest hills at that point in the race was a big boost to my confidence, plus I passed quite a few people, always nice!
There wasn't much of a sprint finish, my legs were tired and sore and I'd had bad backache for a few hours. I came in in 4 hours 23, with 2'09 and 2'14 splits for the halves and, more importantly, had had no dramas. Energy levels were good, I hadn't had any moments where I thought I'd DNF, and I'd enjoyed it. This was a very important and significant marathon after a run of terrible events, and to have had a calm and peaceful marathon and a solid finish has lifted my spirits enormously.
Dressed for a cold day....
I'd agreed to meet a few Fetchies in the Premier Inn pub, about 15 minutes out of town, worth the walk to find a good bunch of Fetchies and several 100 club guys too and we got settled in for a few drinks. By the time I left at about 10, a bit sleepy and a tiny bit drunk, a shortcut seemed like a good idea, so I followed a slip road round the back of Argos and Homebase rather than going all the way round the front like I had on the way there. Not a good idea, I found myself on the A38, a dual carriageway with cars belting towards me at 70mph and me wondering why I was in a black jacket rather than reflective running kit. I climbed over the barrier, up the embankment, through the brambles, over a fence and through some trees, picked the bits of twig out of my hair and was on exactly the right road, and had probably saved myself 5 minutes' walk at the cost of several scratches and a few near misses. While it's nice to have a sense of direction, sometimes it's best to recce the route beforehand.
As for the race, I was more nervous before this than I have been for a long time. I wasn't sure if I could run still after the last few weekends, and I had zero confidence. The first few miles were terrible - my right foot is very sore, I had a bit of shin splint pain and felt very uncomfortable. Things were better after several miles' warm up as they usually are, so I followed some excellent advice I'd been given - take it one mile at a time and enjoy the scenery.
I had no time or pace ambition for this one, other than to get sub 5 hours (if only to catch my train) so I had plenty of leeway if I needed to walk the hills or slowed considerably. It was a very very hilly event for a road marathon, with a respite from mile 15 to 21 which downhill and flat along a valley, a stretch considered boring by quite a few runners. I liked it, but then I like long flat stretches of tarmac, you get to a purer form of running, right down to the mechanics of it, without being distracted by corners or changes in surface or gradient. It's why I like treadmill running too.
The route was superb, through country lanes and over Bodmin moor, exactly the sort of scenery I love, and the weather was perfect with blue clear skies, sunshine and no wind. It was just the sort of race I love too, a small field of about 200 runners, really well organised and very friendly. The pockets of support were extremely encouraging and vocal, something you don't expect in a rural event, and the runners were clubby but collegiate, you could exchange a few words without feeling obliged to talk for ages.
There were long patches where I was running by myself, enjoying the silence and views and remembering that this is exactly why I like marathons. And for some reason yesterday, I found myself able to run most of the hills, including all of them from mile 21 onwards. I'd found my endurance legs by then and was in a good rhythm; the feeling of being able to run some of the stiffest hills at that point in the race was a big boost to my confidence, plus I passed quite a few people, always nice!
There wasn't much of a sprint finish, my legs were tired and sore and I'd had bad backache for a few hours. I came in in 4 hours 23, with 2'09 and 2'14 splits for the halves and, more importantly, had had no dramas. Energy levels were good, I hadn't had any moments where I thought I'd DNF, and I'd enjoyed it. This was a very important and significant marathon after a run of terrible events, and to have had a calm and peaceful marathon and a solid finish has lifted my spirits enormously.
Dressed for a cold day....
Monday, 9 November 2009
Pembrokeshire Coastal Challenge - 3 marathons in 3 days (Had I not learned from the last time?)
Day 1 - Dale to Newgale
Today was a tough day, it was raining steadily when we set off and got very heavy over the next 3 or 4 hours. What was worse was the wind, it was extremely gusty, coming from every direction but behind, and it was a real fight to make any head way into it. It actually blew me over a few times when my concentration dropped, happily it tends to come from the sea so I only found myself on a grassy bank rather than head first down a cliff face.
I realised I had made a serious error this week very early on, my diet just hadn’t been sufficient, and I’d been eating like I was on a 2 week bikini body plan out of Femail all week. My legs were empty and I was finding it very hard to drum up any strength. The food supplied by Votwo the night before had been fine, but in Lilluputian portions; Heather and I had gone out for a second dinner in desperation, but I hadn’t really had a square meal for about a week (too much travelling and not enough planning).
Still, the cut offs were fairly generous, given the shocking 11.30am start. There’s no way I’m starting that late again, it's not so bad for a 4 or so hour road marathon, but off road when it gets dark at 5 it’s way too late. We could afford to let the times slip, and Heather was very good at keeping me company when she was clearly much stronger than me.
It was a hard race to keep your sense of humour in, the wind and rain, constant up and down, sliding around in the mud and going over on your ankles was testing, but the Votwo guys are brilliant at the checkpoints. You’d arrive pretty drained and grumpy but a bit of banter and a cup of tea later and things seemed much brighter. Some of the banter was at my expense, I had perfected my Ey Up Grandad shuffle, legs going as fast as I can move them, which isn’t very fast at all, and arms pumping like the clappers to retain momentum. It’s best accompanied with a big grin and a wink, and a request to get t’kettle on for a brew. Arriving into a checkpoint like this is a far cry from sashaying down a staircase in a ball gown to a posh party, especially when you look like a drowned rat. Note to self, ditch the mascara.
We’d slogged through hours and hours together, and the company was invaluable. You get each other through the bad times and you can share the hysterical moments together too. Upon reaching an appropriately heavenly bit of tarmac just before Little Haven at about 20 miles, I knelt down on hands and knees to kiss it, then lay prostrate on the road embracing its smooth and mud free surface. It was partially a genuine expression of gratitude, and partially a means of lightening the atmosphere but this marathon business isn’t good for your dignity.
The scenery was superb for a short while when the sun came out a little bit. This is why we came all this way, the Pembrokeshire coast is stunning, all rolling cliffs and ranks of inlets and headlands stretching into the distance. Some of the deserted beaches below us were glorious - smooth firm sand with blue surf breaking onto it. Sadly, we had to run the last few miles in darkness as it got so late, stars may be pretty but they ain’t so good at letting you know where to put your feet to avoid a broken ankle. The last few miles were pretty boring and seemed endless, so we’ll definitely be starting earlier tomorrow with the walkers to avoid another finish in the dark. While I’m pretty tired and hoping there’s not so much wind, I’m looking forward to another day by the sea. It’s not a bad way to spend your annual leave.
Sunset over Druidston beach
Day 2 - Newgale to Porthgain
Day 2 started at Newgale beach
The weather this morning was much better – cold, but lots of sunshine and the wind was considerably lighter than yesterday. We’d started early to give us a bit more headroom on the cutoffs, and to hopefully finish in daylight. This meant I did a lot more walking and less Ey Up Grandad shuffling, but that was fine, the aim was to finish in decent shape and keep some in the already heavily-depleted tank for tomorrow.
The coastline around St David’s peninsula is even more stunning than yesterday further south, more rugged and wild with some incredible coves and beaches. It was nice to be able to appreciate them too with the clearer weather and less time pressure. It was fairly uneventful for most of the run; the rain and wind didn’t really set in until about 23k after which I had a down spell that lasted all the way to 41k. It felt like I was making very little progress, and it had turned into yet another fight against the gales and rain. The 16k distance between checkpoints 2 and 3 was particularly difficult, it just seemed to go on for ever.
Coming into that checkpoint, I was kind of hoping they’d pull me out, there was little daylight left and I was freezing. The Votwo guys were predictably brilliant, and gave me no choice. It was only 3000m to the end and I was carrying on. Jason had a surprise for me in the van, it wasn’t a hot bath, but it was close - half a mars bar and a cup of tea. Nectar! If I was going to get the last bit done, it required warmer dry gloves but my hands were so cold I couldn’t get them into my thicker gloves. Jason went beyond the call of duty by shoving them into his own armpits. Guess I was lucky it wasn’t the other warm part of his anatomy.
The guys’ support really helped, they made it seem achievable and like there was no choice but to get it done. With a last bit of energy, I clambered up the last hill onto the headland where it was blissfully smooth underfoot and flat. A call from my boyfriend saying he’d arrived at St David’s (he was here to run Day 3) and was heading for the finish was the icing on the cake, and I even managed to break into a run for the last few k, even though it was now dark. My time was woeful again, but I’d got day 2 done and I’m not broken. It’s a vast improvement to the end of Greensands two weeks ago.
Just another bit of Pembrokeshire coast
Day 3 - Porthgain to Pwllgwaelod
We started early again today to get as much light as possible, but the weather wasn't kind, it was gusty and rainy, with the promise of clearer skies later on. I wanted to push this one a bit to try to make up a bit of time as we had to get all the way back to London in the evening, but it wasn't happening, the energy levels were at rock bottom and I was finding it impossible to even stand up straight in the wind. I was shuffling along half bent over and lurching into the banks either side of the tightrope-width gullies that made up most of the path. The prospect of 27-odd miles of sliding down muddy cliffs, clambering up rock faces, being freezing cold and soaked through wasn't a good one, the only way to contemplate it was checkpoint by checkpoint.
The first was 6.8k away. Normally, I can run that in less than 35 minutes, today it took me about 1 hour 15 and I already knew it would be a DNF. Not yet though, I couldn't quit now, I had to get to the next checkpoint at Strumble Head, half way into the race. The next leg was the toughest and most exposed and if I did that, then at least I'd had a decent day out with 13 or so miles done and had battled through the hardest bit. A nibble on a chocolate bar wasn't much help, but that was all I could get down with the rising nausea.
It was 14k to the next CP and that felt unmanageable. I'd take it 5k at a time. That soon felt unmanageable too so it became 1k at a time, that's not even a mile. My progress was getting slower and slower, a heavy rain and hail shower had set in and when the wind gusted it took all my strength just to stay on my feet, there was no hope of moving forwards. I just don't have enough weight to cope with these conditions and things weren't looking good. When I came round a headland and saw the wet glisten of a road the other side of the rocky beach, the decision seemed obvious. I had to stop.
Stopping was pretty horrible, you feel like such a failure. I got picked up by the Votwo guys and taken to the CP at Strumble Head, someone shoved a down jacket on me, someone else jammed on a woolly hat and the medic poured lots of electrolytes down me. I had mild hypothermia, a bit of shock, a few other things with medical names and was just generally done in. I don't regret the weekend at all, it was a fabulous few days by the coast with extraordinarily beautiful views. By the time we drove to the finish a few hours later, the DNF was in perspective; I knew I couldn't have done any more today and there's no point beating yourself up about it. There are other pleasures in life beyond marathon after marathon after all - the finish was in a tiny picture postcard-worthy cove with a few boats pulled up on the beach. The sun was shining and one of the 3 buildings was a pub! We sat on a picnic bench with a beer, looking out to sea with a stadium view of the finishing stretch and everything seemed much brighter.
The finish at Pwllgwaelod
Today was a tough day, it was raining steadily when we set off and got very heavy over the next 3 or 4 hours. What was worse was the wind, it was extremely gusty, coming from every direction but behind, and it was a real fight to make any head way into it. It actually blew me over a few times when my concentration dropped, happily it tends to come from the sea so I only found myself on a grassy bank rather than head first down a cliff face.
I realised I had made a serious error this week very early on, my diet just hadn’t been sufficient, and I’d been eating like I was on a 2 week bikini body plan out of Femail all week. My legs were empty and I was finding it very hard to drum up any strength. The food supplied by Votwo the night before had been fine, but in Lilluputian portions; Heather and I had gone out for a second dinner in desperation, but I hadn’t really had a square meal for about a week (too much travelling and not enough planning).
Still, the cut offs were fairly generous, given the shocking 11.30am start. There’s no way I’m starting that late again, it's not so bad for a 4 or so hour road marathon, but off road when it gets dark at 5 it’s way too late. We could afford to let the times slip, and Heather was very good at keeping me company when she was clearly much stronger than me.
It was a hard race to keep your sense of humour in, the wind and rain, constant up and down, sliding around in the mud and going over on your ankles was testing, but the Votwo guys are brilliant at the checkpoints. You’d arrive pretty drained and grumpy but a bit of banter and a cup of tea later and things seemed much brighter. Some of the banter was at my expense, I had perfected my Ey Up Grandad shuffle, legs going as fast as I can move them, which isn’t very fast at all, and arms pumping like the clappers to retain momentum. It’s best accompanied with a big grin and a wink, and a request to get t’kettle on for a brew. Arriving into a checkpoint like this is a far cry from sashaying down a staircase in a ball gown to a posh party, especially when you look like a drowned rat. Note to self, ditch the mascara.
We’d slogged through hours and hours together, and the company was invaluable. You get each other through the bad times and you can share the hysterical moments together too. Upon reaching an appropriately heavenly bit of tarmac just before Little Haven at about 20 miles, I knelt down on hands and knees to kiss it, then lay prostrate on the road embracing its smooth and mud free surface. It was partially a genuine expression of gratitude, and partially a means of lightening the atmosphere but this marathon business isn’t good for your dignity.
The scenery was superb for a short while when the sun came out a little bit. This is why we came all this way, the Pembrokeshire coast is stunning, all rolling cliffs and ranks of inlets and headlands stretching into the distance. Some of the deserted beaches below us were glorious - smooth firm sand with blue surf breaking onto it. Sadly, we had to run the last few miles in darkness as it got so late, stars may be pretty but they ain’t so good at letting you know where to put your feet to avoid a broken ankle. The last few miles were pretty boring and seemed endless, so we’ll definitely be starting earlier tomorrow with the walkers to avoid another finish in the dark. While I’m pretty tired and hoping there’s not so much wind, I’m looking forward to another day by the sea. It’s not a bad way to spend your annual leave.
Sunset over Druidston beach
Day 2 - Newgale to Porthgain
Day 2 started at Newgale beach
The weather this morning was much better – cold, but lots of sunshine and the wind was considerably lighter than yesterday. We’d started early to give us a bit more headroom on the cutoffs, and to hopefully finish in daylight. This meant I did a lot more walking and less Ey Up Grandad shuffling, but that was fine, the aim was to finish in decent shape and keep some in the already heavily-depleted tank for tomorrow.
The coastline around St David’s peninsula is even more stunning than yesterday further south, more rugged and wild with some incredible coves and beaches. It was nice to be able to appreciate them too with the clearer weather and less time pressure. It was fairly uneventful for most of the run; the rain and wind didn’t really set in until about 23k after which I had a down spell that lasted all the way to 41k. It felt like I was making very little progress, and it had turned into yet another fight against the gales and rain. The 16k distance between checkpoints 2 and 3 was particularly difficult, it just seemed to go on for ever.
Coming into that checkpoint, I was kind of hoping they’d pull me out, there was little daylight left and I was freezing. The Votwo guys were predictably brilliant, and gave me no choice. It was only 3000m to the end and I was carrying on. Jason had a surprise for me in the van, it wasn’t a hot bath, but it was close - half a mars bar and a cup of tea. Nectar! If I was going to get the last bit done, it required warmer dry gloves but my hands were so cold I couldn’t get them into my thicker gloves. Jason went beyond the call of duty by shoving them into his own armpits. Guess I was lucky it wasn’t the other warm part of his anatomy.
The guys’ support really helped, they made it seem achievable and like there was no choice but to get it done. With a last bit of energy, I clambered up the last hill onto the headland where it was blissfully smooth underfoot and flat. A call from my boyfriend saying he’d arrived at St David’s (he was here to run Day 3) and was heading for the finish was the icing on the cake, and I even managed to break into a run for the last few k, even though it was now dark. My time was woeful again, but I’d got day 2 done and I’m not broken. It’s a vast improvement to the end of Greensands two weeks ago.
Just another bit of Pembrokeshire coast
Day 3 - Porthgain to Pwllgwaelod
We started early again today to get as much light as possible, but the weather wasn't kind, it was gusty and rainy, with the promise of clearer skies later on. I wanted to push this one a bit to try to make up a bit of time as we had to get all the way back to London in the evening, but it wasn't happening, the energy levels were at rock bottom and I was finding it impossible to even stand up straight in the wind. I was shuffling along half bent over and lurching into the banks either side of the tightrope-width gullies that made up most of the path. The prospect of 27-odd miles of sliding down muddy cliffs, clambering up rock faces, being freezing cold and soaked through wasn't a good one, the only way to contemplate it was checkpoint by checkpoint.
The first was 6.8k away. Normally, I can run that in less than 35 minutes, today it took me about 1 hour 15 and I already knew it would be a DNF. Not yet though, I couldn't quit now, I had to get to the next checkpoint at Strumble Head, half way into the race. The next leg was the toughest and most exposed and if I did that, then at least I'd had a decent day out with 13 or so miles done and had battled through the hardest bit. A nibble on a chocolate bar wasn't much help, but that was all I could get down with the rising nausea.
It was 14k to the next CP and that felt unmanageable. I'd take it 5k at a time. That soon felt unmanageable too so it became 1k at a time, that's not even a mile. My progress was getting slower and slower, a heavy rain and hail shower had set in and when the wind gusted it took all my strength just to stay on my feet, there was no hope of moving forwards. I just don't have enough weight to cope with these conditions and things weren't looking good. When I came round a headland and saw the wet glisten of a road the other side of the rocky beach, the decision seemed obvious. I had to stop.
Stopping was pretty horrible, you feel like such a failure. I got picked up by the Votwo guys and taken to the CP at Strumble Head, someone shoved a down jacket on me, someone else jammed on a woolly hat and the medic poured lots of electrolytes down me. I had mild hypothermia, a bit of shock, a few other things with medical names and was just generally done in. I don't regret the weekend at all, it was a fabulous few days by the coast with extraordinarily beautiful views. By the time we drove to the finish a few hours later, the DNF was in perspective; I knew I couldn't have done any more today and there's no point beating yourself up about it. There are other pleasures in life beyond marathon after marathon after all - the finish was in a tiny picture postcard-worthy cove with a few boats pulled up on the beach. The sun was shining and one of the 3 buildings was a pub! We sat on a picnic bench with a beer, looking out to sea with a stadium view of the finishing stretch and everything seemed much brighter.
The finish at Pwllgwaelod
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
3 marathons in 3 days: part 3 – Dublin marathon
I was a bit of a wreck in the morning, and had only managed 5 ½ hours sleep so was pretty tired and sore. We had plenty of time at the start as we’d had to pick up numbers at 7am and I was lucky enough to bump into Michael and Selina, both really experienced 100 club members. There’s something about people being nice to you that just makes you crumble, I was just about keeping it together until I saw them. They were great though, I needed people who’d been through it before to tell me it was ok to be in a bad way at this point and to give me a hug and provide a bit of reassurance. Didn’t stop the tears though, I’m quite embarrassed by how much I fell apart yesterday.
At the start, I wasn’t too bad, it was 26 miles to get through and it was on tarmac and mostly flat. I could get onto autopilot and keep the legs turning over. The first few miles felt good surprisingly, probably because of the tarmac, it’s so much easier to run on than trail. 9 minute miles seemed pretty comfortable too and I wondered whether a sub 4 was possible. It wasn’t about times today though, it was about finishing.
I went through 10 miles on 9 minute pace with the light headedness getting stronger and stronger. Michael had told me to expect it so it wasn’t worrying me, but my field of vision was shrinking further and further, from 10 yards ahead of me at the start to only a few feet in front of me. My eyes were starting to close too and the tiredness overwhelming. All of a sudden, I had two spectators catching hold of me and asking me if I was ok. I’d fallen asleep on my feet and run straight into them. Jeez, there’s autopilot and there’s sleep-running. I tried slapping myself in the face and yelling at myself but I couldn’t keep my eyes open at all. There was a St John’s ambulance on the road that looked like an oasis in the desert. The medic was a bit surprised when I asked her to promise to wake me up in 5 minutes but she probably had more serious issues to worry about than a sleepy runner. It felt like as soon as I had shut my eyes that she opened the door with a bottle of water, but it was a full 5 minutes later, I’d been out for the count.
It helped, I shuffled off and was a bit more alert. It wasn’t even half way though so there was still a long way to go. From there at about 11 miles to 16 miles was hell. I had to reach into the depths of my soul to keep going, it was truly awful. It’s not digging in any more, I’d been doing that since about mile 18 on Saturday, this was a serious test of resolve. But I wasn’t going to have come all this way to DNF at this point.
The mile 16 marker was an epiphany, I knew it was possible and that I’d finish. The fog lifted and the endorphins finally started to kick in. Everything was hurting, but no more than it had done since Sunday, and keeping a sort of run/shuffle/stagger going was easier, and quicker, than walking. The miles passed one by one, and not too painfully slowly and the finish was getting closer. If I could keep moving, a sub 4’30 was possible, which would be a respectable time. The last mile was good, I managed to pick up the pace and pass a load of people, and came over the line in something like 4’20 or 4’22, I’m not sure as my garmin had died a few miles back and it had taken either 6 or 8 minutes to get over the start line. It’s not a bad time considering the nightmare I’d had.
I usually try to come to some sort of conclusion, but I’m still thinking about it. I’ve always tried to keep my emotions under wraps, but the exhaustion totally got the better of me this weekend. It’s made me feel so vulnerable and having so many people see me so broken has been pretty embarrassing. I’ve also seen different sides to people, and some have been incredibly supportive and offered great advice. It’s been a hellish weekend, but I’ll be stronger when I recover. It’s super-compensation or something, break something down and it recovers a bit stronger. It’s not a nice process, but I’m going to need the experience of all these tough races in the TiT.
At the start, I wasn’t too bad, it was 26 miles to get through and it was on tarmac and mostly flat. I could get onto autopilot and keep the legs turning over. The first few miles felt good surprisingly, probably because of the tarmac, it’s so much easier to run on than trail. 9 minute miles seemed pretty comfortable too and I wondered whether a sub 4 was possible. It wasn’t about times today though, it was about finishing.
I went through 10 miles on 9 minute pace with the light headedness getting stronger and stronger. Michael had told me to expect it so it wasn’t worrying me, but my field of vision was shrinking further and further, from 10 yards ahead of me at the start to only a few feet in front of me. My eyes were starting to close too and the tiredness overwhelming. All of a sudden, I had two spectators catching hold of me and asking me if I was ok. I’d fallen asleep on my feet and run straight into them. Jeez, there’s autopilot and there’s sleep-running. I tried slapping myself in the face and yelling at myself but I couldn’t keep my eyes open at all. There was a St John’s ambulance on the road that looked like an oasis in the desert. The medic was a bit surprised when I asked her to promise to wake me up in 5 minutes but she probably had more serious issues to worry about than a sleepy runner. It felt like as soon as I had shut my eyes that she opened the door with a bottle of water, but it was a full 5 minutes later, I’d been out for the count.
It helped, I shuffled off and was a bit more alert. It wasn’t even half way though so there was still a long way to go. From there at about 11 miles to 16 miles was hell. I had to reach into the depths of my soul to keep going, it was truly awful. It’s not digging in any more, I’d been doing that since about mile 18 on Saturday, this was a serious test of resolve. But I wasn’t going to have come all this way to DNF at this point.
The mile 16 marker was an epiphany, I knew it was possible and that I’d finish. The fog lifted and the endorphins finally started to kick in. Everything was hurting, but no more than it had done since Sunday, and keeping a sort of run/shuffle/stagger going was easier, and quicker, than walking. The miles passed one by one, and not too painfully slowly and the finish was getting closer. If I could keep moving, a sub 4’30 was possible, which would be a respectable time. The last mile was good, I managed to pick up the pace and pass a load of people, and came over the line in something like 4’20 or 4’22, I’m not sure as my garmin had died a few miles back and it had taken either 6 or 8 minutes to get over the start line. It’s not a bad time considering the nightmare I’d had.
I usually try to come to some sort of conclusion, but I’m still thinking about it. I’ve always tried to keep my emotions under wraps, but the exhaustion totally got the better of me this weekend. It’s made me feel so vulnerable and having so many people see me so broken has been pretty embarrassing. I’ve also seen different sides to people, and some have been incredibly supportive and offered great advice. It’s been a hellish weekend, but I’ll be stronger when I recover. It’s super-compensation or something, break something down and it recovers a bit stronger. It’s not a nice process, but I’m going to need the experience of all these tough races in the TiT.
3 marathons in 3 days: Part 2 - Greensands marathon
I was incredibly worried about this race, because it was organised by Dr Rob of Trionium who did the Picnic marathon back in June. That took in Box Hill and Mickleham Downs no less than 20 times and I was on the verge of throwing up and/or passing out for the entire 6 hours and 35 minutes it took me. This one wasn't going to be much easier, and had the added bonus of having a cut off of 1 hour 20 minutes for the first 7 miles, quite stiff when you consider it's largely uphill all the way.
There were loads of people around that I knew but I was in no fit state for company, and spent the entire race very reluctant to tall to anyone, it was going to be hell and I was better off suffering it alone. We set off, up a hill of course, and it was immediately head down to get the 7 miles done. It was a steady grind up and I would usually have walked the steeper uphills but the cut off was tight so I kept slogging on. I made the cut off point with several minutes to spare but it had cost a bit, I'd had to beast it to get there and now I was knackered. At least the legs weren't hurting too much from yesterday.
It was an odd way to start a marathon, it was just a 7 mile race to that point and now I had to completely change my mindset to think about the marathon distance. There was a water station after a few more miles where the girl cheerfully informed us we were at 9 miles. My garmin said 10.5. This completely broke me, utterly wiped out what scraps of confidence I had and wrote off my race. I did for a few seconds consider pulling out, if this was going to be a 29 mile marathon and I was already knackered, there was no way I'd get round.
I could at least get to the turn around point at half way, so I stumbled off up the hill feeling absolutely rotten. I confess I lost the plot here, I was knackered and hurting and had so far to go still, and I didn't even know how much further that far was. For the first time ever, I cried in a race and felt like even more of a dropout for losing it. After a few minutes, I decided I was being a snivelling wreck, and that I needed to toughen the fuck up. My usual technique here is to belt myself in the face a few times and yell some obscenities at myself, "Move your fucking arse, you lazy bitch, what the fuck are you whinging about", that sort of thing. It kind of works, if moving forward is any result.
By this point, people were starting to pass me on the way back and they did lift my spirits. The atmosphere at Trionium races is infinitely more collaborative than yesterday, most were saying encouraging things and you've got to put on a brave(r) face if people are going to see you. Thank god the half way point was bang on 13 miles, it was a huge comfort that the race wasn't stupidly long. Half a mile or so is ok, more than a mile is too depressing.
The way back was horrible, I was really hurting with a sore left knee and finding it difficult to get any speed up. At least I could keep shuffling, even up some of the shallower ascents. At the water station at mile 20, I think I worried the marshal when I took a bottle of lucozade and tears promptly started falling from my eyes, not because I wanted to cry, it was just someone being nice enough to give me something to drink. I'm such a wuss.
Fortunately the last few miles are mostly downhill and I managed to keep shuffling. For the first time in the race, I started thinking about the time and sub 5'30 was looking possible, and beating my time from yesterday was just about on the cards if I could hold it together. There was a small hill in the final mile but I managed to really pick it up in the last 15 minutes to pass a few people and half run, half fall down the hill to finish in 5 hours 18 minutes, 8 minutes quicker than yesterday. I've never been broken so much mentally and physically, that's two really rough days in a row. I am worried about tomorrow, but I'm hoping that because it's road and flat, my legs will go onto auto-pilot and just keep running of their own accord. And I can't wait for that pint at the finish.
There were loads of people around that I knew but I was in no fit state for company, and spent the entire race very reluctant to tall to anyone, it was going to be hell and I was better off suffering it alone. We set off, up a hill of course, and it was immediately head down to get the 7 miles done. It was a steady grind up and I would usually have walked the steeper uphills but the cut off was tight so I kept slogging on. I made the cut off point with several minutes to spare but it had cost a bit, I'd had to beast it to get there and now I was knackered. At least the legs weren't hurting too much from yesterday.
It was an odd way to start a marathon, it was just a 7 mile race to that point and now I had to completely change my mindset to think about the marathon distance. There was a water station after a few more miles where the girl cheerfully informed us we were at 9 miles. My garmin said 10.5. This completely broke me, utterly wiped out what scraps of confidence I had and wrote off my race. I did for a few seconds consider pulling out, if this was going to be a 29 mile marathon and I was already knackered, there was no way I'd get round.
I could at least get to the turn around point at half way, so I stumbled off up the hill feeling absolutely rotten. I confess I lost the plot here, I was knackered and hurting and had so far to go still, and I didn't even know how much further that far was. For the first time ever, I cried in a race and felt like even more of a dropout for losing it. After a few minutes, I decided I was being a snivelling wreck, and that I needed to toughen the fuck up. My usual technique here is to belt myself in the face a few times and yell some obscenities at myself, "Move your fucking arse, you lazy bitch, what the fuck are you whinging about", that sort of thing. It kind of works, if moving forward is any result.
By this point, people were starting to pass me on the way back and they did lift my spirits. The atmosphere at Trionium races is infinitely more collaborative than yesterday, most were saying encouraging things and you've got to put on a brave(r) face if people are going to see you. Thank god the half way point was bang on 13 miles, it was a huge comfort that the race wasn't stupidly long. Half a mile or so is ok, more than a mile is too depressing.
The way back was horrible, I was really hurting with a sore left knee and finding it difficult to get any speed up. At least I could keep shuffling, even up some of the shallower ascents. At the water station at mile 20, I think I worried the marshal when I took a bottle of lucozade and tears promptly started falling from my eyes, not because I wanted to cry, it was just someone being nice enough to give me something to drink. I'm such a wuss.
Fortunately the last few miles are mostly downhill and I managed to keep shuffling. For the first time in the race, I started thinking about the time and sub 5'30 was looking possible, and beating my time from yesterday was just about on the cards if I could hold it together. There was a small hill in the final mile but I managed to really pick it up in the last 15 minutes to pass a few people and half run, half fall down the hill to finish in 5 hours 18 minutes, 8 minutes quicker than yesterday. I've never been broken so much mentally and physically, that's two really rough days in a row. I am worried about tomorrow, but I'm hoping that because it's road and flat, my legs will go onto auto-pilot and just keep running of their own accord. And I can't wait for that pint at the finish.
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