It's been a bit of an odd's and end's weekend this week. With nothing planned, the van off the road and plenty of odd jobs to catch up on, I've actually been at home for a change. Not that that means I've not been busy, I've got plenty done, not least a good few hours of cleaning parts for the van, ready for it to go back together as soon as the engine gets back. Not particularly exciting, but it's another job ticked off, and this weekends work will hopefully pay dividends when it does finally go back together. In between the scrubbing, I've identified and repaired a couple of chafed wires that would have been a nightmare to find with the engine in, replaced the gearbox and drive shaft seals, made up a new Engine earth lead to replace the original which was worn 3/4 of the way through and fitted new track rod ends and ball joints to replace the ones I had to saw off to get the drive shafts out! As I said, nothing exciting but hopefully steps in the right direction. In other news, the allotments really starting to come into it's own and in addition to Strawberries for breakfast every morning for the last week, we had Broad Bean and Pea risotto, with a bit of left over gammon, for tea on Saturday. You really can't beat the taste of freshly picked and podded peas and broad beans and I look forward to the broad bean crop every year. Not only are they the first of the veg to harvest but their amongst the tastiest, in fact I'd rather wait all year for fresh allotment ones than be reduced to buying them. Looking around on the plot we should be picking Courgettes by this time next week and I don't think that the Cucumbers, Beetroot and summer Raspberries will be far behind, so there's plenty to look forward too. The Tomato's have set the first fruit, so it's just a case of waiting for the sun to do it's thing and ripen them up, and the Runner Beans have made it to the top of the canes too and have flowers on. In fact it's all finally coming along nicely and everything's now planted out in it's final place. I suppose that I should really start thinking about next year and get some spring flower seeds sown if we are going to have any colour at home. Wallflowers, Foxgloves, Aquilegia, Spring Pansy and Primula's all need to go in in the next few weeks, if they're to be ready for planting out in the autumn, it seems like it's never ending sometimes, but when you get to see the rewards of your labours, so satisfying. Whilst we are talking about enjoying the rewards of your labours, the back garden, scene of last winters "Project Patio" is really starting to come to fruition now. There's still a few odd jobs to do, but sitting out there of an evening with the Bumble Bee's busy collecting nectar from the Foxgloves, Sparrows flitting around picking bugs from the apple tree and the amazing scent coming from the first of the Nicotiana and Dianthus, it really makes it all worthwhile. In keeping with the mantra that it can't be "all work and no play" I took the opportunity whilst the sun shone on Saturday to get out on the bike for a few miles. Nothing too serious, just a pootle around the local area really, on a route that I'd not done for a while. And a great little day out it was too. The country lanes look magnificent with the long grasses in full bloom along the verge side and the hedgerows are alive with birds, busy tending to their young. It all looks so inviting, lush and green, that it almost becomes impossible to remember back to those cold, wet and grey winter days when everything was dead and dying and spring seemed so far away. That's what I love about the UK though, the change in season and the character of the land as the year progresses. From the browns and greys of winter, through to the vibrant greens of spring, onto the yellows of summer and the harvest time, through to the gold's and ochre's of Autumn, it's ever evolving and changing. OK, I'll admit that it rains a lot and the wind drives me nuts most of the time, but I'm not sure that I'd swap it for anywhere else! Whilst we are on the subject of being out and about, I've been past this church at Welford a few times over the last couple of years and it always catches my eye due to it's round tower. Having done a bit of building work I can confirm that building in the round is actually a lot harder than it looks, as it's difficult to keep things square and level, which probably explains why you don't see many buildings built this way. A quick bit of Googling from the comfort of my armchair throws up some interesting facts about it, including the fact that it's one of only 2 round towers in Berkshire. Not the most interesting fact ever, but that now means that I'm going to have to plot a route and take a trip out to have a look at the other one doesn't it. Sometimes I think that I'd be better wandering around with my eyes shut! Whilst I think about it I've finally caught up the missing blog post from earlier in the month and even if I do say so myself it's a good one. I'd recommend that you grab a brew, find a spare couple of minutes and go back in time to earlier in the month to enjoy My Big Hard One!
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Well, I hope that you all enjoyed the summer last week, as we appear to be back to situation normal! I’ve got wet more times in the last few days getting to work and back, than I did in the whole period of February to May, What’s that all about? And as for the fact that Monday is the longest day and it’s all down hill from here, well, let’s not even go there! So, what have I been up to this week then? Well, for a starters Sunday was dedicated to a bit of Audax fun in the shape of the Sussex Midsummer 200. I’ll just highlight the word Midsummer there, as compared to last weekend it was positively dismal. Friday and Saturday’s torrential rain ensured that there were plenty of big puddles around and the local lanes were awash with loose gravel and sharp flinty bits washed from the surrounding fields, perfect for punctures and wet feet! Never normally one to be put off by a bit of dampness though, I found myself stood in the corner of a now familiar car park, with a handful of other like-minded lunatics at early O’clock on Sunday morning, ready for a Covid safe send off. Covid safety is still a primary consideration for all organised events and today was no different. Staggered start times, hands free collection of Brevet cards, no mass briefings and limited numbers, ensured a safe and swift departure, and I was on the road in the early morning drizzle just before 07:30. Heading out from Midhurst towards the first stop at Pease Pottage the damp air hung like a heavy curtain over the surrounding countryside. The verge side vegetation was weighed down by the weight of water clinging to it’s damp leaves and the constant drizzle slowly ran down my legs, before collecting in my shoes. It’s nice riding up through this part of Sussex though, with gently rolling countryside, some lovely little lanes and plenty of nice little cottages with their characteristic yellow windows and doors to keep your mind occupied. Through Horsham for the first time, before the traffic started building, and on to the first checkpoint. No point in hanging around here though, so grab a quick receipt as proof of passage and back the way I’d come. With the traffic now starting to pick up in readiness for the 10:00 “must get to the shops rush” Horsham was a bit busier on the way back. Unfortunately it’s pretty much unavoidable without a considerable diversion though, so straight through the middle and back onto the nicer, quieter country lanes and the chance to relax again. South now, towards Storrington before turning West and heading towards the first of 3 visits to the village hall checkpoint at Cocking. The first visit marked the half way point and the option to sample the amazing hospitality laid on by today's organisers, however it’s not raining (now), so do I stop and risk getting wet later or “make hay whilst the sun shines” and push on? Choices, choices. I elect to pass on the beans on toast and push on for the short but hilly second loop. Eating can wait and I’ve got plenty of nibbles to keep me going for a while yet. Things got a bit more interesting after lunch, as the route heads into the South Downs National Park, with its somewhat hillier terrain. A long fast descent gave the old legs a bit of a breather, before a main course of climbing, regaining all that lost height up the long slow drag to Harting Down. A long old drag it is too from the South side, compared to the short sharp climb coming from the North. Personally I’d rather do it the other way round, but then again, on tired legs getting up the steep side can be a bit of a challenge too! No chance of the normally expansive view from the top today either, it’s still heavily overcast with damp rain in the air and I’m not hanging around to get wet. Straight down the other side then, followed by the straight forward run back to Cocking for another visit to the village hall and a stamp in the Brevet card. A quick stop to make use of the facilities and fill up on water and it’s off again for the final loop. I’m not hanging around with the chance of rain ever present and if I can get back without getting totally soaked then so much the better. There will be plenty of other opportunities for standing around chatting, and it’s not much fun with a face mask on anyway, so I’m straight back to it. One last run out then, through Petersfield and then up the long climb through Steep and onwards towards Ropley (and almost back home again). It’s a nice climb up through Steep, despite the name it’s not too steep but a long steady gradient which seems to go on forever, with some lovely views back from the halfway point. Eventually cresting the top, brings only a short respite as the road continues to rise in a series of shorter climbs all the way up to the turnaround point at Ropley. Blessed relief then, as it’s surely all back downhill from here. But no, somehow the route back continues the uphill theme until it re-joins the route out for the descent back to Steep. I’ve no idea how that works, as you re-join the route out lower down, yet seem to climb all the way, maybe it’s just tired legs, but I’m not so sure! Just the final few miles back to Cocking to go then and surprisingly I’m still dry, the sun even managed to make a brief appearance on the final run back. Back at Cocking there’s a chance of a well-earned brew washed down with a slice of divine ginger cake, whilst sorting out Brevet cards and chatting about the days ride. Every organiser always wants to know if there’s anything they could do better or changes that would improve the route and despite thinking long and hard about it I don’t think that there is today. In fact, despite the weathers best efforts I had a great day out. The route was presently varied with a good mix of fast roads, quiet country lanes and plenty of climbing thrown in for good measure. I’d been through some lovely villages and open countryside and seen a few places that I’d never been to, despite being fairly local. Everything’s slickly organised and I hadn’t got too wet. You can’t ask for much more than that can you, and with a time of just under 10 hours for 130 miles (that’s 200 and a bit Km for you youngsters) I’m not going to get a place in this year’s Tour de France, but I’m not going to be the last man back either! In other news, I can report that the Van is now without engine and what a job getting that out was. I’d never planned on taking it out, but having broken an exhaust rocker on the M3 the other week and been told that the garage wouldn’t touch it due to the time and costs involved I wasn’t left with much choice. The perceived wisdom seemed to be to scrap it and start again, but to even start replacing it, I was looking at £5K. Plus I’d then have to swap the interiors over, fit new windows and sky lights, new insulation, move the heater over etc, and still be left with an unknown high mileage van. So engine out it had to be, and it’s now away for rebuilding at a vastly lower cost. Obviously when it comes back it’s going to have to get refitted, which is going to be another massive undertaking, not helped by the fact that I’ve got no idea where most of the million plugs and wires which are now tangled up in one big mess go. But, at least if I do ever manage to get it back in place and running again, it will have a theoretical zero mile engine, new clutch and associated parts etc, so should be good for another few years. Oh, and in case anyone’s wondering how I’m getting around without the van, check out my current van substitute. Need’s must when the devil drives and all that, but having looked at the cost of hiring a car for a few days to get to last week’s run, down to see “The Boy” and a few other events I’ve got going on, this was a no brainer.
Granted its a few years old and it’s got a few minor niggles but nothing that isn’t a simple fix, and who hasn’t at that age. I spent a couple of hours scrubbing out the smell of dog and old man from the interior, threw an oil change and service at it and a couple of new tyres on the front and it still owes me less than £800. I’d originally planned on selling it on again as soon as the van was sorted, but I’m getting quite attached to it now. It’s a bit under powered for motorway cruising, but around town it’s great. It’s quiet, easy to drive and no longer smells of dead dog. Plus not only does my bike fit in the back, but so did all the camping gear last week. It’s never going to replace the van as the love of my life but I am getting quite attached to it! Fear not blog followers, I am still alive and out and about, but I'm somewhat behind on the old blog front and it's going to take some catching up. As with most things in life, when one thing goes wrong it's sure to be followed by another, and before you know it, you don't know where you are! Typically, bad news seems to come in threes and I'm up to two at the moment, so I'm keeping a low profile in the hope that the third one will pass me by. So what has been occupying my time then? Well for a starters and most importantly, unfortunately "The Old Cheese" has moved on to the great Fromagrie in the sky. I've mentioned a few times over the previous months that she hadn't been well, and despite fighting a valiant battle and remaining positive and cheerful right up until the end, she finally slipped away last Friday. Unfortunately I couldn't be there at the end, due to being on my way to Wales to see "The Boy", but she had the Girls by her side and will be forever in my thought's. Like many of her generation she didn't always have an easy time in life, but always gave everything her best shot, and ensured we had a happy, adventurous and fulfilling childhood. She gave all of us the space and support needed to grow and find our own way in life, whilst always being there to pick up the pieces when things didn't quite work out, or go to plan. And, whilst I certainly never lived in her shadow, or hung from her apron strings, I always knew deep down that she was there if I needed her. If she hadn't given me the space to grow, forge my own way in life, and have my own adventures from a young age, then I certainly wouldn't be the man I am today, and for that I'm eternally grateful. From camping out on the lawn at home, to cycling and fishing adventures with my mates at a young age, to waving me off from the train station to join the RAF at age 18, she encouraged me all the way. If I came home battered and bruised, there would be a plaster and a hug. If I bought my mates home there would be a warm welcome and an extra place at the table for dinner. If I came home wet and muddy, there would be a warm bath and some dry clothes, woe betide you if you got your school uniform dirty though! When I left home to make my way in the big wide world, back in the day's before mobiles and the internet there were regular letters with all the news from home, letters that take far longer to write than today's quick text or e mither, but provide that personal touch and connection so missing in today's world. When, later in my RAF career I spent some considerable time in Afghanistan there were home made cakes in the post on a regular basis, which always bought a bit of cheer too a cold dark night. And, when more recently, work was getting me down, it was her I turned to for a bit of advice. I might be 48, but Mum's bound to know what to do! Gone then, but certainly not forgotten. Reunited with those that went before her, her Mum and Dad, brother Harry, and more recently, Peter, the person she finally found happiness with. God, bless you Mum, see you later, and if you are up there looking down on us, can you do me one last favour and have a word with God about this bloody weather! As I mentioned up thread, before things got a but maudlin, I have still been out and about and there are a couple of outstanding blog posts that I need to get written whilst they are still fresh in my mind, including what was my longest and possibly hardest run to date.
I will get caught back up, so please keep watching this space, I'll appologise in advance though that it might take me a little while, normal service will resume eventually though. Oh, and before I forget, the other bit of bad news that's been occupying my time? Well, if anyone happens to know where there's a spare engine for a 2.5L Vivaro camper van conversion then please shout out!
What's harder than running 50 miles? Running 50 miles through the Black Mountains down in deepest darkest Welsh Wales that's what. Throw in 11059ft of ascent (that's 3370 meters for the youngsters), or 67.4 meters per mile for the stat fans amongst you, and you've got the makings of a great day out!
Why make life easy for yourself though? A wise man once said, (among other things) that "It's no fun if it's easy" and whilst I'm not always inclined to agree, I think that he generally had the right idea. The harder it is the more memorable it tends to be and making memories is what it's all about. Right? So what am I on about now then I hear you ask. Well, always on the look out for a new challenge, I'd stumbled across the Black Mountains 50 mile ultra back in the depths of winter and what do you know, the date fitted in precisely with "The Boy's" birthday. Surely that's got to be fate. I'd not normally slog all the way to darkest Wales just for a run, but I'd be down that way anyway to see "The Boy" on his birthday, so it seemed rude not to sign up and "kill 2 birds with one stone", so to speak. And that running fans is how I found myself dragging my tired old legs out of my tent at 04:30 on what was promising to be a glorious Saturday morning. I say tired old legs, but to be honest, having spent the night in what amounted to little more than a field, on a slope, with a group of noisy "20 something's" next door, it hadn't been the best nights sleep ever. Oh well, I'm sure they enjoyed being reciprocally woken at "Oh my god its early O'clock" as my fellow runners, who incidentally occupied the majority of the campsite, started their own preparations for what promised to be a long day ahead.
Having completed the mandatory kit check, and collected my number and tracking device the previous evening, all I had to do in the morning was have a brew, stuff as much breakfast down my face as I could and make sure I was ready for the brief at 05:45 and the 06:00 start. Sun cream applied, mandatory kit, sandwiches, chocolaty treats, water, maps and first aid kit safely stowed in my running vest and I'm ready to go.
If the rest of the camp site weren't already awake, they certainly were at 06:00 when the lovely people from limitless trails finally said GO! I don't think that I've ever seen a bearded giant in a kilt, swinging two massive cow bells before, but I can tell you it makes quite a sight and quite a racket. Touché youths! And with that we were off, straight up the first of what was going to be many, impossibly steep climbs. No chance to warm the old legs up, just straight into it, heart rate straight to max, breakfast threatening to reappear. It didn't take long for a more sensible pace to develop though, as one by one we all realised that this was a marathon (well two to be precise) and not a sprint, and the fast paced start was no where near sustainable. By the time the first of many stiles appeared toward the top of the climb, a more normal state of affairs had set in and I found myself settling into a steady pace within the first group of 10 or so. As the terrain levelled off and finally started descending slightly, I was maintaining what I felt was a fairly sustainable pace and enjoying the feeling of running through the cool, still morning air. The pace wasn't fast by any standards, but as the miles started ticking off, I found myself gaining on and then slowly passing runners who had set off in front of me. Was I going too fast? Could I hold this pace for another 45 miles? I'd no idea, but felt good, so just kept working along at a pace I felt happy with. By the time the first water stop came and went at mile 10, I'd caught up with the 2nd and 3rd place runners and as we started the climb up McNamaras pass, heading for the summit at Waun Fach, we'd fallen into a fairly steady group. As we climbed, so the sunshine of the valley floor was slowly replaced with cloud and mist and by the time we were halfway up, visibility had seriously decreased. Along with the disappearing view, went the 1st place runner, gone at high speed into the mist, never to be seen again until the finish (and even then not, as he'd gone home by the time I got there!) Eventually though, nearing the summit at 2600ft we broke back out into clear blue sky, and what a view it was. The valley back from where we started and across to Pen y Fan was filled with cloud, just the surrounding summits visible in the still early morning light. It had been some slog getting up here, but boy was it worth it!
As seems to be an ongoing theme at the moment, there's no time today for taking in the view or snapping pictures though. I'm holding my position and feeling good, so keep pushing on along the high ground, heading towards the first checkpoint, at the base of Hay Bluff.
As we work along the high ground towards Twmpa (there's a Welsh word if ever there was one) and eventually start the descent towards the checkpoint, our small group starts to split up. First opening up a gap between 2nd, 3rd and 4th and then finally dropping the man in 4th further behind. I come into the first checkpoint at the 19 mile point a few seconds behind the second place man and we both take the time to get some fluids and nibbles on board before heading out together just as the 4th place man arrives.
Having lost all the height for the checkpoint it's straight back up Hay Bluff, too steep to run, its a case of holding the fastest pace possible whilst staying out of the red. Hot, sweating and blowing hard, when we do eventually reach the top it's certainly worth the effort as the view opens out in front of us. Were not done with the climbing yet though, there's still some way to go to reach the top of the Black Mountain and our second 2000ft summit of the day!
Eventually, still holding the positions we left the checkpoint in, we reach the summit of the Black Mountain (Crib y Garth) and start the descent, along what for me was the highlight of the day, along the rocky knife edge to the South.
With the sun blazing down and an unbridled view to both sides from our high point, this was probably some of the best running I've ever experienced. It's down hill, the legs feel good, there's a clear path so I know I can't get lost, just let loose and go, whilst watching your footing and admiring the view. Outstanding! As with all good things, eventually this one comes to an end, and we enter the flatter valley floor heading towards Longtown, the half way point and lunch. As we reach the Checkpoint the smell of frying bacon fills the air and we are ushered into the school hall that's being used for the checkpoint, where more of those ever present volunteers, which make all these events possible, attempt to cater for our every need. There's no bacon for us today though, were too far ahead of the main pack and they've only just started cooking it! Banana's, Biscuits, Cheese, salty biscuits and most importantly a refill of empty water bottles and bladders, takes but a few minutes and before I've had time to say "Oh my legs hurt" we off again. Straight back up hill, with the 4th place man still nipping at our calves.
Replenished, refuelled and working well together, we make good time to the top of the climb coming out of Longtown and cross the Offas Dyke path, on our way to Checkpoint 3 at Llanthony Priory. Somewhere coming over the top however, we loose the path and make our first navigational error of the day.
It's not a show stopper and I can see on my GPS and the map where we need to be, getting there proves a bit harder though and we are forced to "Off Road" through the heather and down a couple of thankfully dry ravines to get back on track. Once we do get back on track we're then stuck behind a big group of walkers making their way slowly down the narrow path and across a stile. We both fall in line, waiting patiently for our turn on the stile and the path to open up, so we can continue our downhill charge. It's our own fault and a silly mistake but a touch frustrating none the less. Despite the error and delay we somehow still come into Checkpoint 3 in second and third position, with no sight of 4th place and first place so far in the lead, that there's no point in even mentioning his superhuman efforts. More water, more salty snacks, a bit of banter with the lovely people manning the checkpoint, and with the sun now really beating down, it's back uphill, to regain the Hatterrall Ridge and begin the slog to Checkpoint 4 and onwards towards Checkpoint 5 at the far side of The Sugar Loaf.
Checkpoint 4 soon comes and goes and with 35 miles done the pace is ever slowing. Walk the bits that are too steep to run, push a slow steady pace on the flatter bits, and try to maximise the downhill advantage. With each mile it gets harder though and the heats not helping. It's the hottest day of the year so far and despite the factor 50 sun cream I applied liberally at the start it's not doing much good now, having been long washed away by the sweaty effort.
The odd wooded section brings a welcome relief from the sun though and as we start swinging round the lower laying ground to the East of side of the Sugar Loaf were surprised to find someone in front of us. Strange, how has that happened, they never passed us, in fact we're gaining on them? Check and double check the map, yes were on track. Eventually after some discussion between ourselves we come to the conclusion that we must be starting to pick up Marathon runners who set of a couple of hours after our start time and are doing the shorter route. With our new found companion just in sight ahead of us, we both take our eye off the ball for a few minutes, working on the assumption that whoever's in front knows the way. As we all know though "Assumption makes and Ass of You and Me" and it takes a few minutes for us to realise that were off route again. I'll confess that this time it wasn't helped by me being complacent, and thinking that as we were right on top of the checkpoint, I'd move my GPS map onto the next stage. Bugger! This time it's a bit harder to sort out where we should be, and by the time I've got the GPS back onto the correct page we are a way off track. The combination of heat and fatigue isn't helping and I'm getting frustrated trying to get us back where we should be. Eventually, a joint decision sees us back "Off Road" down a steep heavily wooded slope and finally we find the checkpoint. Strangely it's deserted, but it looks like were the first one's here as we have to open the bags of biscuits. Just as were leaving the person we were following comes in and says "I seem to have got a bit lost there". Join the club! That will teach us for following someone else. We inquire what distance our new found compatriot is doing and when the answer comes back as "Ultra" it marks the beginning of the end for my mental battle.
We leave our new friend topping up her water and grabbing some food and head back out. Neither of us can figure how we've lost so much time. We left checkpoint 4, only 6 miles back, in joint second place. We can't have lost that much time, and even if that was the first place woman, then there's likely to be more people in front of us somehow! Have we been that far off route, or been lost for that long?
As we start the climb up the steep side of the Sugar Loaf I'm starting to flag, knowing that I've lost so much time over the last couple of miles my hearts no longer in it and with the sun still beating down it's a long, slow, painful climb to the top. By the time I reach the summit and the 3rd (almost) 2000ft summit of the day I've slipped behind my running buddy. From the summit though I can see him, and someone else further in front, more proof if it was needed, that we've lost time somewhere during the afternoon. With a cooling breeze finally pushing away some of the days heat, I start the final leg back towards the finish. I come down off the Sugar Loaf alone for the first time all day and start making my way through the wooded lower slopes. As I get to within a couple of miles of the finish, working uphill from a river crossing, I come across the 2 guys who had been in 4th and 5th place all day sitting on a stile. After a brief discussion it transpires that Mr 5th place has just pulled Mr 4th place from the stream, where he'd taken refuge suffering from heat exhaustion and they both confirm that they've not seen my companion for the day go past? Confirming that they had obviously passed us whilst we had tried to find checkpoint 5 is a relief, gives me a better idea of where I am in relation to the race, and provides an indication that we hadn't lost as much time as I first feared. However, all thoughts of the race are pushed aside as between us we get our exhausted fellow runner back on his feet. Sharing out the water we've got left and getting a spare Gel into him, coupled with his cooling dip, does the trick and eventually he's back on his feet. He's in no state to be left alone though and in no state to keep running either, so between us, like a small band of wounded brothers, we start to walk the final couple of miles back to the finish. With a mile or so still to go, the day get's stranger still, as we start passing the back markers of the marathon, none of whom report seeing any ultra runners coming past before us. What's going on here, are we still in 2nd, 3rd, 4th place? if so what's happened to my companion for the day who was ahead of me but now doesn't seem to be?
As we approach the finish line, without a word between us, we fall back into the order that we had been in before we got together. Mr heatstroke, his saviour and myself cross the line one after the other with only a few seconds between us.
Magnanimous? I don't think so. Just the right thing to do in the circumstances. I know that if I was "man down", I'd hope that someone would do the same for me and ensure I got safely home. Yes either of us could have pushed on once he was back on his feet and left him to fend for himself, but that's not the right thing to do either, and at the end of the day we set off together so finished together. Logged as we walked over the line in 2nd, 3rd and 4th I might not have walked away with a position trophy, but I got the next best thing when the lovely people at limitless trails presented me with their Inspiration award for doing the right thing. Totally undeserved and as I said at the time "To be honest I was too F****ed to keep running anyway"!
So what happened to my companion from earlier in the day then? Last time I saw him from the top of the Sugar Loaf he was in 2nd or 3rd place and pulling away. It would appear though that he managed to get off track at some point after we split up and despite the organisers spotting his mistake via his tracker and managing to get hold of him by mobile, it was too late and he took a while getting back on course. He finally came in 45 minutes behind me in 7th place. An unfortunate end to what had been looking like a great finish.
And our female friend from Checkpoint 5? Well I'm still really none the wiser, she came past me on the flat ground after the Sugar Loaf and was going well. From that point on I never saw her again and can only come to two conclusions. Either, like my original compatriot she somehow lost some time and came in behind me for 5th place and first woman, although I can't see how that happened. Or she wasn't actually running the 50 mile ultra but the shorter 40 Mile event which took place on the same day. I guess I'll never know the answer to that one.
11:43 for 50 hard and hilly miles, on what was without a doubt the hottest day of the year. Officially listed as 4th place from the 28 that started the 50 mile course and one of only 23 finishers, the last of whom finished in 20:23, which is quite some effort by any measure.
Despite finishing slightly slower than I'd originally hoped, considering the terrain and heat, I'm more than happy with that result! I suppose the big question though, is would I do it again and was it a good day out? Dammed right it was! Despite being one of the hardest things I've ever done it's also one of the best and as they say "With great endeavour comes great reward". Actually I think I might have just made that up but it seems to fit quite well !
Postscript.
Just to wrap this one up and looking back from a few days afterwards, I'm surprised at how good I felt the next day. Yeah, I was a bit stiff and it took me a while to get going again, but I was back running by the end of the week. I managed to escape without any blisters, and just a touch of sunburn around my neck and upper legs. However, the soles of my feet had a few bruises which were a bit sore and took a few days to mend themselves. Other than that I was in remarkably good shape considering the distance covered. My biggest problem however, reared it's ugly head on Saturday night. Having eaten well, got on board loads of fluids and settled in for an early night, I had to get up a short while later for a wee. Not normally a problem when your in the tent, just unzip in more ways than one and let it go. In this case though, considering it was only being about 10:00, still light and not wishing to get arrested for indecent exposure, I elected to hobble over to the toilets. Fully relieved, I was just about to head back to bed when I thought "Ohh, that's not good, I've gone all dizzy" and the next thing I knew there was an almighty crack and I came too on the floor. (In hindsight I guess the crack was my head hitting the toilet seat on the way down)! Not the most ignominious ending to my day then. Picking myself back up, I beat a hasty retreat back to bed, nursing a bit of a headache but no other injuries. I guess it just goes to show that these big efforts can have surprising outcomes. A bit of ongoing dehydration, low blood sugar from the days efforts and low heart rate, all probably came together in the wrong place at the end of a long day. There's not much to add to that other than be careful out there folks. The last place you want to end up is on the floor of a campsite toilet, you never know what you will catch! |
Paul PerrattOld enough to know better, young enough to still feel invincible, stupid enough to keep on trying the same thing again and again. Cyclist, Gardener, Runner, Hiker, Cook, Woodworker, Engineer, Jack of all trades and master of none, Anti social old git and all round miserable bugger. Archives
March 2024
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