Right, bad news everyone, I've got a bee in my bonnet and I'm having a rant!
Earlier in the week, I picked up on a comment on one of the forums that I frequent (also known as waste half my life), regarding someone's opinion on how stupid someone making an effort and getting a bit of exercise looked. I'll spare you the details, but the gist of the comments related around how going jogging for the first time isn't going to make you any thinner and how the commenter shouldn't have their eyes offended by someone wearing sports kit and giving it a go! Now, I'm by no means some woken millennial and I'm certainly not easily offended, driven to feel the need to jump on the band wagon, or stand up for someone else. In fact I couldn't care less about most things that don't effect me, and certainly couldn't give a toss if you want to insult someone else. But, on this occasion it really annoyed me. In case you haven't noticed I'm fairly fit and despite my sweet tooth and predilection for fridge raiding, tend to live a fairly healthy lifestyle. I do a bit of running and quite a lot of cycling, so unlike the majority of the population I am actually in a position to comment on this one, and it makes my blood boil. We've all got to start somewhere. Indeed, nearly 10 years ago, when I decided that I was getting a bit more lardy than I should be, discovered that my back was starting to hurt due to lack of use and had a few concerns that I might not be fit enough to do my job if the shit really hit the fan, I started off down the route that most people take and spent a few hours in the gym. And those few hours started to make a difference, I felt better for it and after a while actually started to enjoy it. A little while later, we moved house and my access to the gym wasn't quite as easy as it had been. Not to worry though, there's a small park just around the corner, maybe I'll try my hand at running. Despite the fitness that I'd built up over the previous months going to the gym, that first run, which was probably less than a mile, nearly killed me. In fact I got back home and pretty much collapsed on the sofa. "Sod that for a game of soldiers" was the only thought going through my head as I lay there thinking I was about to die! But you know what, a couple of days later I gave it another go, and it wasn't quite so bad. In fact I can still vividly recall the first time that I managed to struggle round 10Km and the feeling of euphoria when I completed my first half marathon. And the cycling's the same. I've always done a little bit of utility cycling, mainly as a means of getting the mile or so to work and back. As part of my new found Gym routine I'd been doing a bit of exercise bike cycling too, but when I decided to make my first foray into proper road cycling it was a whole different ball game. Pulling my new Lycra cycling leggings on for the first time and putting a pair of baggy shorts over the top, as I was too embarrassed to be seen in Lycra, hardly set the scene and that first time out I probably only managed about 5 miles before slinking home absolutely knackered. I clearly remember the first time I managed 10 miles and recall with horror how tired I was the first time I pushed it up to 20 miles. In fact, I often cycle along roads that I took on those first forays out and recall how I ran out of gears getting up some of the hills. Hills that are now no more than gentle inclines and hardly warrant changing down a gear for, but at the time nearly killed me. As I got fitter it never got any easier, I just went a bit further for the same effort and it was a long time before I felt that I was actually getting somewhere and an even longer time before I really started upping the mileage. Likewise, I clearly remember blowing out of my arse trying to run up hill and feeling that I couldn't possibly go any further or get to the end of those first long runs. But you know what, after a while it starts to get a bit easier without you even realising it. Imperceptibly you loose a bit of weight and that flabby bit slowly turns back to muscle. A feeling of euphoria slowly replaces the feeling of exhaustion and eventually you start to enjoy it instead of dread it. But, before we get to that point, we've got to start somewhere and that's the slow, unfit, struggling people you see on weekend mornings and feel the need to comment on or take the piss out of. But before long, if they carry on and don't give up, they will be having the last laugh at your expense and at least they're giving it a go! Occasionally, when I'm running an organised event, I'm lucky enough to either start lapping some of the back markers, catch up with the back of a shorter run, or see people going the other way on an out and back course. And you know what, there's nothing that brings more of a smile to my face or instils a bigger feeling of admiration in me, than seeing those brave people struggling along towards the back of the field. The sheer determination to finish on display is staggering. They may be slower, but there's the same will to finish as there is at the front, and whilst it may be a totally different race at the back, it's still the same amount of effort and still requires the same mental fortitude to finish, if not more. I know that my day will be over in a few hours (depending on how far we're going), but I wouldn't fancy having to expend the same amount of effort for twice as long, as those at the back often are. If you think of it that way, those making it look effortless at the front, are actually having a far easier time than the folk at the back! It's the same when I'm out and about at the weekend, nothing cheers me more than seeing someone who may be a touch, how shall we put it, "unfit" coming the other way. I'll always give them a friendly nod or wave and where appropriate a word of encouragement, because they're making the effort and having a go. And whilst they probably look at me, cruising along without a care in the world, it hasn't always been that way and not so long ago, I was wearing their shoes! You can't change anything in life without trying. We've all got to start somewhere and that applies to anything we do. So, instead of making disparaging comments or taking the piss, how about having a go at something you can't currently do yourself? You might be surprised, you might actually enjoy it and get some benefit from it. I'm not saying that you need to go out and run a marathon, in fact I'm not even suggesting that you need to do anything fitness related. There's a million things you could do instead of sitting around reading this drivel; Learn to play an instrument, bake a cake, start a blog (that wastes loads of time), plant some seeds and grow some vegetables, take up hang gliding, do whatever you want. But get out there and give it a go and please, please, please, don't try to put off those that are giving it a go!
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Well, what a week that was. I think that's the first time that we have ever been away and the sun has shone for the entire time. Maybe I'm being a bit unfair on the weather there as we usually seem to go away in the middle of winter, or early spring at best and over the years we have had some pretty good times when we have been away. This last week was exceptional though (unless your "The Emma" who's spent most of the time moaning that it's too hot), you just can't please some people, can you? The weather had to break eventually though and having sweated my bits off, cycling up to our holiday location last weekend, I'd been keeping an eye on the forecast all week, knowing that I was going to have to make the return journey this weekend. Typically, Friday looked like the day of change, with a band of heavy rain and thunderstorms positioned right across my route home from early Saturday morning onwards. Bugger, as we say in the business! Oh well, allegedly I'm waterproof and I've got to get home, so I guess I'm going to get wet. Or will I? Friday dawned overcast and cooler, a marked change from earlier in the week, and to be honest a bit of a blessing knowing the journey I was about to undertake and the struggles I'd faced getting up there the previous weekend. Packing up is always quicker than preparing to go away, and having helped "The Emma" load our worldly chattels into her car, I was on the road for 09:30, heading South, with just what I'd need for a night away, loaded onto the bike. If I'm being honest, I'd not been looking forward to this, the endless slog in the heat the previous week still fresh in my mind. But, in the cooler, damp air, it was all a different matter and the first long slow climb up to Monsal Dale fairly flew by. Smoothly over the top, and as I coasted down the long descent to Bakewell, it was with a smile back on my face. It's amazing how much difference those few degrees in temperature make and how quickly previous struggles are forgotten. I knew from the way up that the first 30 or so miles were going to be the hardest, with a series of stiff climbs and steep descents. There was nothing to tax me too hard today though, and climbs that had defeated me in the heat last week, seemed a matter of routine today. Making good time, by 11:00 I was back at Carsington Water, with the worst of the climbing behind me, just those forecast thunderstorms to worry about now then! Burton upon Trent came and went, without drama by lunchtime, and still feeling good, thoughts of possibly getting in front of the forecast weather started to play around in my head. I knew that Daventry was at 110 miles, and the weather was supposed to hit around 07:00 in the Oxford area. Maybe if I pushed on to the other side of Daventry today, I could get an early start in the morning and miss the worst of it? Batting the numbers and timings around, it seemed feasible, 110 plus miles shouldn't be too much of a problem, but then again, what if I just kept going and aimed for Bicester at 140 Miles? Choices, choices, lets just see how we get on and play it by ear. As the miles ticked by, Bicester started to look more and more feasible. Rolling into Daventry for 19:00 it was a definite option. But, at the same time, another thought started to creep into my subconscious. Why stop at Bicester? If I can get there, then it's only another 60 miles home and I'm guaranteed to stay dry! 200 Miles in a day? Definitely achievable, but at the same time I'm not really equipped for it. "For a starters I've got a bike load of camping equipment weighing me down and the light's I've got with me aren't the best, I'm not even sure if the batteries are charged up". What ever I'm doing, there's no point in sitting at Daventry. So, by 20:00 I was on my way to Bicester, safe in the knowledge that I had to be there before 23:00 (when Tesco closes) or it was going to be a hungry and thirsty night. For a change, the God of weather must have been feeling sorry for me today though, and as I pulled out of Daventry, so I picked up that most blessed of all the weathers, a tail wind. Oh yeah, free wind assistance, it might not have made much of a difference physically, but mentally, it's a real game changer! As the miles continued to click by, so the shadows started to lengthen as the day drew inevitably to a close and by 21:30 it was dark enough to start thinking about turning on some lights. Flicking on the front light, I was met with the reassuring glow, as the pool of bright white light lit up the road ahead and reflected back off onto the verge. 20 minutes down the road, I got the answer to how well charged those batteries were as I was plunged back into the semi darkness! Pulling into a handily placed field gate, I rolled to a stop and with thoughts of "that's the end of that idea" running through my head, dismounted and lent the bike against the gate. What now? I suppose the only options going to be find somewhere to bed down until it gets light, then push on when it's safe and I can see where I'm going again. "Or is it"? I wonder if my head torch is bright enough to ride with on it's own? It's fine for running with, so just maybe, that's not the end of my day? A quick rummage through the panniers produced said torch and casting it around the light looked bright enough to be worth a try. If nothing else it would enable me to get far enough to find a better place to spend the night. The only problem now was how to mount it. Being a head torch it wouldn't fit with my bike helmet on, so I was going to have to come up with another idea. Another quick rummage through the panniers revealed that I'd taken out the roll of tape and cable ties, which would have been ideal in this situation, last week, and only yielded a couple of elastic bands and an old Mars Bar. Not a ideal solution to the problem. That bit of old bailer twine tied to the gate post might solve the problem though! By looping the head band around my GPS mount and tying the battery pack to the handlebars with a bit of twine, I was back in the game. I'd not got any great hopes of this little lot staying on for long though! When you consider that our road surfaces easily shake purpose made mounts, nuts and bolts and most of my fillings lose in a matter of minutes, I wasn't going to hold my breath on a bit of bodging! Tentatively setting off, my little bodge appeared to work quite well, with the light plenty bright enough to see by, provided I didn't go too fast (which by this time wasn't likely), and by some miracle appeared to be perfectly aligned with the road in front and at the right height. With thoughts of "Lets see how long it is before this falls off, or the batteries run out" ringing through my head, I was back on the road. Just after 10:00 and ahead of my new schedule, I rolled into Bicester, grabbed some water and a doughnut (healthy living at it's best) and pushed straight on, heading for Wheatley and the promise to myself to stop for a brew. I knew from previous outings that there's a handy secluded spot, with a nice bench, just outside Wheatley so if I could get there I'd have more options than being stuck in the middle of Bicester. An hour later and I've got a brew on the go, first one since setting off and the perfect accompaniment to that doughnut I picked up earlier. If only the sky had been clear this would have been an idyllic stop. As it was, it was pretty good, still warm enough for shorts and a cycling top, brew, doughnut and all encompassing darkness, with not a sound or person to be heard. What's not to like about that? Next stop Pangbourne? If I break this last bit down into manageable chunks, with the promise to myself of a brew by the River Thames, it should be a bit easier and that's only a 25 mile leg. With my bodged light showing the way and lightning splitting the sky to the South I was making good progress. South of Wheatley, the terrain gets a bit more rolling, as you skirt the edge of the Chiltern Hills en route to the Thames crossing. Nothing too taxing though, climb steadily up the North side than roll back down the South, easy enough, even on tired legs. Easy that is, until I nearly came a cropper on a downhill bit. Lack of concentration due to tiredness? Slippery gravel? Puncture? Nope, Badger, and a moment of who's going which way and who's going to stop first. I saw him reflected back in my lights by the side of the road, just as he saw me. Startled by my presence, instead of diving for the hedge, he decided to aim for the other side of the road. He went left, I went right, then he changed his mind, so I went the other way, whilst grabbing for the brakes and thinking "I don't really want to stop or fall off now, what if he gets me". Right, left, right again, by the time I'd almost stopped, he'd made it to the undergrowth and was gone, leaving me to regain my composure and continue peacefully on my way. "What if he gets me"! What's that all about? It's a badger not a werewolf and I'm sure he's more frightened of me that I was of him. It's strange what goes through your mind in the middle of the night, when your faced with the unexpected though. A careful descent into Pangbourne saw me safely to my next promised stop and with the kettle on again I had choices to make. Run the last few miles down my planned route, or take advantage of the deserted roads and use the A340 and A4. It's pretty much the same distance, but cuts out some serious climbing and whilst I'd avoid the A340 during the day, it's not actually that bad a stretch of road and at this time of night, I'd be lucky to see a single car. Well, that was an easy decision to make, A340 it is, flat, fast, direct and badger free, perfect, and taking me well into home territory. A few spots of rain joined the now, ever present, flashes of lightning on the road between Silchester and Bramley. Not enough to worry about and this close to home, certainly not enough to consider stopping or getting my jacket out for though. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the miles to go, became meters, and as the clock approached 04:00, (just under 19 hours since setting off) I rolled to a stop for the final time. Creeping back into the house in an attempt not to wake "The Emma" I reflected back on the days achievements. 197 miles in 18 hours and 40 minutes isn't too shabby. More so when you consider that I set off planning on stopping, so was carrying my bivvy kit, sleeping bag, brew kit and all the other assorted sundries you need for a night out. None of which weighs a lot, but lugging it for nearly 200 miles soon starts to tell it's toll. Most importantly though, I was still feeling pretty good and whilst tired, could quite happily have carried on. Maybe next time I'll ensure that I've got some proper lights with me and not lug a load of heavy camping kit around for no reason. But where would be the fun in that? And at least this way I was prepared for any eventuality, (expect suicidal badgers). Oh, and I guess we will never know how wet I would have got if I'd gone with plan A and stayed out. Because I didn't get wet at all and whilst we had some rain at home Saturday morning, it wasn't torrential and I certainly wasn't going to nip back up to Oxford just to find out! In other unrelated news, as I pulled up at home in the early hours of Saturday morning and crept silently through the back gate, I was greeted by the most beautiful scent of flowers. The sun over the previous week had obviously done it's magic and more surprisingly, nothing seemed to have suffered from a lack of water during the hot spell.
It's now that all those days of graft back in the winter during Project Patio, all the frustrations and fiddling around growing plants from seeds, all the watering, weeding and battling slugs and snails pay off though. And to be honest, there's no where else I'd rather be than sat in the garden with a brew in my hand, the scent of the lilies filling my nostrils, the bees busily collecting pollen and that deep seated feeling of satisfaction of a job well done! The last few pictures from my running adventures whilst on holiday in Bradwell, covering a final outing from our holiday cottage on 22 July. See post While "The Emma" Sleeps Pt1 for background reading and pictures covering 18 and 19 July and While "The Emma" Sleeps, Pt 2 for 20 and 21 July. Pictures below cover runs whilst on holiday in Bradwell on 20 and 21 July. See post While "The Emma" Sleeps Pt1 for background reading and pictures covering 18 and 19 July. As I mentioned in my post at the weekend, "The Emma" and I are away this week. Nothing special, just a little rental cottage outside of Bradwell in Derbyshire. Whilst it's not the most exotic or salubrious holiday location, or accommodation, it is slap bang in the middle of the Derbyshire Peaks and surrounded by some outstanding scenery.
And we all know what Outstanding scenery means, don't we? That's right, it means outstanding running! And with the sun forecast to have it's hat on all week, we could be in for a treat. I can't spend all my time running though, I'm supposed to be on holiday with the love of my life, not out getting hot and sweaty. But I can get out while she lays in bed, take advantage of the cooler early mornings and taking advantage of what's currently on our doorstep.. I'm not going to write loads of spiel, but I will stick some photos up of what the weeks runs bring and keep on creeping out, whilst "The Emma" sleeps! Pictures below cover Sunday 18th and Monday 19th July.
Sometimes I wish I wasn't so easily lead, it's not a good trait and over the years it's got me into more trouble than you can shake a stick at! To be honest you'd think that I was old enough to know better, but there you go, obviously not. I'm guessing that the question on everyone's mind right now though, is what on earth is he on about now? Well;
We're on holiday this week (that's the royal we, as in "The Emma" and I), nothing special, just a little holiday cottage up in the peak district, but as we were sat having dinner one day in the week, discussing how we were going to get there, the Emma said "I'm surprised your not cycling up, I had a look earlier and it's only 200ish miles". Now I must confess, that I had considered it a few months back, but then, like most things, life got in the way and I'd not given it much thought since, assuming, incorrectly as it turned out, that we'd just both go up together. Having a proper look at the maps showed that with a bit of jiggling around and rerouting to avoid some of the major conurbations it was exactly 200 miles, door to door. The weather looked favourable for the trip up, and if I left straight from work Friday afternoon, I should be able to get there for Saturday afternoon, ready for a relaxing week away.
A rapid escape from work on Friday, saw me on the road for lunchtime, just as the day started to really heat up and the wind decided to join in. Headwind or not though, the first 50 or so miles flew by on familiar roads. Steadily working cross country, skirting up to the East side of Reading and crossing the Thames at Pangbourne, followed immediately by the long, steep, climb up to Whitchurch I was in my element.
A quick pause to get my breath back and grab a sandwich overlooking the plain from the high point at Whitchurch hill and onwards, heading towards Bicester. With the temperature continuing to climb and the wind blowing straight in my face (that's the problem with only going one way, if you get the wind the wrong way, your stuck with it for the long haul) Bicester, when it finally arrived, seemed like a good opportunity to refill my, by now empty, water bottles and grab an ice cream.
Pushing on from Bicester towards Daventry was pretty hard going. With the sun beating down and the wind doing it's best to blow me back home, it was a hard couple of hours. When the going's tough, it's just a case of head down and keep going, there's no other way to get there, so just keep spinning the old legs, let the mind wander for a while and keep watching the scenery go by.
The changing colours of the countryside and the variations on building style are a pretty good way to mark your passage across the different counties and distract you from the job in hand. From the pretty cottages with their recognisable yellow painted windows and doors on the Hampshire borders, to the limestone walled, thatched cottages of the Cotswolds and onwards to the dry stone walls of the Peak District, the countryside is constantly changing and evolving with something new to look at, or landscape to take your breath away around every corner. Much day dreaming later Daventry finally arrived and with it the chance to stock up on milk and goodies to see me through the night. There's no point in lugging milk half way across the country, but I can't even consider getting going in the morning without a brew, so stock up and find somewhere to chill out for half an hour and grab some tea. By the time I'd eaten and had a bit of a sort out, the temperature had dropped enough to make things a lot more bearable and pushing on for the last hour was far more pleasurable riding. With the sinking sun glinting through the scattered high clouds and the Swallows being replaced by Bats out hunting for their breakfast, it's a lovely time of day to be out. Like all good things though, eventually they must come to an end, and as dusk settled over the surrounding countryside it was definitely time to find a secluded spot to pitch my hammock and get me head down for a few hours.
With the sun making an early appearance on the Eastern horizon, pushing the darkness slowly from the sky and the birds announcing that the day was beginning, it was time to get the kettle on and make use of that milk that I'd lugged along for the last few miles yesterday.
Sat, perched on the edge of my hammock amongst the trees, brew in hand, with the sun sparkling off the early morning dew was a great way to start the day. And the fact that it was still warm enough at early O'Clock to be only wearing a cycling top, was either a great thing or an omen of a hot, hard day ahead. There's no point in sitting around in the cool dawn air though and I was on my way by 06:00, pushing slowly ahead on deserted roads, making hay whilst the sun shone, as the farmer's making good use of the break in the weather, did the same in the fields all along my route. Through Barton in the Beans where the cows were just being bought in for their early morning milking and onto flatter country, wind turbines studding the landscape amongst the cornfields, turning lazily in the still morning air. By 09:00 my belly was telling me that it was time for breakfast number 2 and finding a handy bench I settled down for a brew and biscuit sat in the sun. 2 breakfasts by 09:00, see this cycling lark does have some advantages!
Slap the sunscreen on and carry on North, next stop Burton upon Trent, home to breweries, Burtonisation, The Burton Union and exporters of the finest IPA's to the empire. No time for a pint today though. Although with the temperature making a steady break for the top of the thermometer it would have been a welcome distraction (and probably the end of my day after one became 2. I keep telling you that I'm easily lead and have no will power).
While I'm here, I might as well take advantage, grab an ice cream, and have 5 minutes sat in the sun watching the canal boats making their way slowly along the Trent and Mersey Canal. Yet another throw back to times long gone, hard graft and tow path horses, repurposed for a life of leisure and pleasure! Another hour of easy riding past Burton and then the days work really began, as the road starts the long, initially gradual, but rapidly becoming steeper climb up into the Peak District.
As the hills started to come thick and fast, so the temperature continued to climb and by the time I reached Carsington Water the heat was starting to take it's toll, and I was starting to struggle. A quick pause for lunch, sat in the shade of a small copse of trees, helped to restore some resemblance of form, but it couldn't last as the heat rapidly retook it's stranglehold on not only me, but the world around me.
By 13:00 it was up to the high 20's in the shade and considerably hotter out on the road with the sun beating down and the tarmac, slowly melting in the hot sun, reflecting the heat straight back up again. With the Derbyshire hills doing their best to keep me from my destination and the sun taking it's toll, I don't mind admitting that by mid afternoon I was at my limit! Checking the SatNav showed a disappointing 20 miles still to push and with my average speed down to a 10 mph crawl, I was starting to wonder if I had it in me. There's 2 choices though, carry on and sweat it out with the promise of a brew at the end, or call it a halt for the afternoon, stick up the hammock and chill out until it cools down a bit. Choices, choices! "Maybe I'll just push the bike to the top of this hill and stop for a while". "Now I'm at the top I might as well coast down the other side and ride the few feet of flat before the next hill". "This one looks ride-able, Maybe I'll just get to the top of this one" And so it went on. With the sun continuing to beat down, so the miles started to slowly tick down too. 20,15,12,11,10, stop to refill the water bottles at a handily positioned tap, soak my gloves and helmet to cool down and there's only 10 more miles to go. 5 miles to go and the first sign announcing my destination appeared. "Come on then sun, do your best, I've got this now". One last climb and then it's all down hill for the last couple of miles (we'll ignore the fact that I'm going to have to go back this way next weekend). Rolling down those last few miles with the cooling breeze blowing the sweat from my tired body, I'd already forgotten the struggle of those last few hours. One last bump in the road, one last little hill, a pause at a set of traffic lights, roll through Bradwell and that's it, job done. 202 miles, across the 2 hottest days of the year so far and I don't mind saying that the heat took it's toll, giving me plenty of time to wonder if I was actually capable of this or should I admit defeat, or at least sit out the worst of the day. "A feint heart never won a fair lady" though and on this occasion, sheer bloody mindedness and struggling on won. Next time, who knows. That's what makes these games such fun. You never know the outcome or what's going to actually happen until you try!
On an unrelated note, I'm just going to leave this here, from this mornings short leg stretching run. I'm off now to find a map and see where else my legs can take me!
All this running's alright, but playing bikes is much more fun and that's just what I've been up to this weekend. Sunday morning saw an early start to get myself and my trusty stead, down to the start of The Devils Punchbowl 200Km. Having previously ridden the 100Km route a few times this was a new one for me, but why stick at 100k when you can have double the fun.
Unlike the 100Km which takes a fairly direct route up to the Devils Punch Bowl, the 200Km goes off on a big old loop, working up through the lower reaches of the South Downs National Park before swinging North to visit the Devils Punch Bowl itself, before returning home via the other side of the loop.
With the threat of rain in the forecast I'd packed accordingly, but hoped that it might hold off for the day and to be honest as we set off into the cool early morning air things didn't look too bad. Overcast, cool, but warm enough and wind free at this early hour, good cycling conditions and from the start it looked like this could be a fairly fast route. By the time I'd been on the road for an hour, I'd ticked off nearly 18 miles, which is pretty good going by my standard and had confirmed my initial thoughts, if it continued like this I'd be home in time for tea!.
The first checkpoint at Cocking came and went in a blur of flat fast roads, packed with even faster cars all headed for their own day out at the Goodwood festival of speed. I'm pretty sure that I might have muttered Cocking or words to that effect a few times later in the afternoon too, as Cocking marked the end of the flat, fast easy riding, putting us onto more familiar, rolling territory, as we headed north towards Petersfield. Another quick stop to grab a receipt as proof of passage in Petersfield and then onto the long slog up what was the old A3 towards the Devils Punch Bowl itself. And a right old slog it is too. Not only is it uphill all the way, but it's still a pretty fast bit of road, and just in case that's not enough, it's been resurfaced in the worst surface known to man, Chipseal! Layers of what feel like badly applied boulders, half of which have peeled away, leaving a surface like Brighton beach (all massive stones). Not only is like riding through treacle, making it really hard to maintain any speed, but your constantly at risk of all your fillings being shaken loose too as you rattle over the pockmarked, cratered surface. Eventually though, the next checkpoint at Thursley hove into view and with it the chance for a quick breather and a refill of water bottles and biscuits. A quick sort out of kit, loose a layer, shove a sandwich in my back pocket for later and off again. Up to Farnham for an info control and then the longest leg of the day, heading down towards the motorway services at Pease Pottage for another proof of passage control. I don't mind admitting that I found this leg pretty hard going. There's nothing too steep or taxing to make it hard. But it seemed to be relentlessly up and down. Not enough to make it a challenge or get you out of the saddle, but just enough to get you breathing a bit harder than normal and make it feel like hard work. Time seemed to stand still for a while as I ground my way over the endless hills, constantly weaving like some deranged fighter pilot trying to avoid the enemy, as I tried to avoid the millions of potholes that litter the roads in this part of the country. Swing left, right, left again, can't avoid that one as there's a car behind, brace for impact and hope my wrists, wheels and tyres, survive the battering, and so it goes on. Eventually though the next checkpoint hove into view and with it the chance for an ice cream sat in the sun on a petrol station forecourt. If nothing else this Audax lark is glamorous! That's the back of the beast broken though, and with over 100 miles already under my belt, it's just the matter of keeping going for another couple of hours to get back to the start. Push on then, through some heavy afternoon traffic in Haywards Heath and onward with the South Downs now looming up in front filling my view. Luckily, todays route avoids the torture of pushing over the escarpment and we turn Right at the bottom of the hill for an easy run back to the finish. A shade under the 9 hour mark since setting off and I'm back where we started, with 206 Km (128 miles) on the clock. Just time for a quick brew with the organiser and his glamorous assistant before setting off for home, and whilst I'm stood chatting the rain starts, what are the chances of that? If I'd been a bit slower or stopped for more than the 20 minutes or so that I did all day, I'd have got wet! As it is I've stayed dry all day and had another great day out, you can't say that occasionally the weather God's don't look down favourably on me! âIf only it was a bit more often!
So what else have I been up too this weekend then? Well, for a starters I had a couple of hours on the Allotment before the rain really got going on Saturday morning. As I mentioned last week, things are going great guns.
âThe Tomatoes in the greenhouse are up to the top of the canes and have now been tied into the wires running along the roof to get another couple of trusses out of them. The Cucumbers, Peppers and Chillis are finally flying too, I'd hope that by the end of the week we might finally be picking Cucumbers (and about time too). I'm pretty sure we've had Cucumbers in June previously, but like everything we still seem to be a fair way behind this year.
Tâhe Raspberries are coming into their own too, although the wet weather isn't doing the Strawberries much good, with the fruits rotting off before they have a chance to fully ripen.
Raspberries don't keep very well once they've been picked, so it's always a bit of a challenge to find ways to use them up before they turn to mush. For the last few years I've made Raspberry Gin from the excess, but as the cupboards still full of last years I'm going to have to find another idea for this year. As a starters I knocked up a batch of allotment berry jam, using Raspberries, a few early Loganberries and a few Blackcurrants that have ripened up. A Kilo of fruit to a Kilo of Jam sugar, yielded 2 1/2 jars of Jam. It looks a bit "Pippy" but Raspberries always do, it tastes alright though, so that's a positive. Whilst I had the Jam making stuff out I thought that I'd have a go at Rhubarb jam. I've never tried this one before, but the Internet seems to suggest that Rhubarb goes well with Ginger so what's the worst that can happen? A kilo of Rhubarb, A kilo of sugar, a couple of Lemons, a big lump of grated ginger and a handful of crystallised Ginger and the kitchen was filled with the most amazing aroma. I thought the Strawberry jam last week smelled good, but this knocked it straight out of the park! And I'll tell you what, it tastes pretty fine too!
It's about time that we had a bit of "Marathon A Month Madness" and what's better than a marathon? Well, an ultra of course. The same pain and suffering as a marathon but with a bit extra thrown in for free!
This weeks efforts had been a long time in the making and I'd been looking forward to this for a while. I'd first heard about (and entered) The Serpent Trail 50Km way back in 2019. Unfortunately, 2019 had turned into a bit of a flop for me on the running front when I got injured, resulting in no running between June and the end of September. Not to worry though, I'd just defer my entry to 2020 and run it then. Wrong! Obviously the Coronavirus kerfuffle put a stop to everything in 2020 and we were given the option to either cancel or re-defer to 2021. Having already deferred my entry once, another year didn't make much difference, and if I didn't run this, I'd just have to find something else to do, so defer away. And here we are, 2 years later and I've finally made it to the start line. I told you I'd been looking forward to this one! The Serpent Trail itself runs for 106Km through the South Downs National Park, starting in Haslemere, before taking a winding, circuitous route, through some lovely open heathland and wooded areas to finish in Petersfield and would in my opinion make a great weekends walking. It crosses paths with the main train line into London in a couple of places, so it's got great transport links, it's pretty flat, the grounds sandy so drains quite well (except for a couple of places) and it's well signposted. What's not to like about that? For me, todays efforts were only going to cover the second half of the trail (although there was a 100Km running at the same time utilising the whole length, maybe that's one for next year?). So having parked up and registered at Petersfield, it was a case of "all aboard" for the short bus ride to the start at Bedham (just to the East of Petworth).
Typically, having watched the weather forecast all week, and thought I'd got away with it when I woke up to a dry morning, the heavens opened just a we lined up for the start. Oh well, at least I wasn't going to be the only one getting wet today, and at least the rain was still warm, not a winters freeze your brains out type of cold, which makes it really miserable.
For the first time in what seems like forever, todays start was also the first mass start that I've participated in since the Coronavirus restrictions were introduced back in 2020, and as we all stood in the rain, listening to the final briefings, whilst making those last minute preparations; watch on, shoes tied, best just check, keys safely stowed, check your shoes again, come on get on with it, the excitement was palpable. I'd missed this. Yes, the staggered starts and other measures have allowed us to keep running and kept everyone safe, but there's something special about the atmosphere and sense of nervous excitement that makes a normal start special.
Briefing completed, shoes tied for the 20th time, and on the stroke of 10:00 we're off. As always, off at a pace that's no where near sustainable for 10km let alone the 50 that's still to come! The initial fast pace soon has the desired effect though, spreading everyone out, allowing runners to find their natural position and rhythm, and within the first couple of miles I've settled into a steady pace which should, hopefully be sustainable.
Running through the damp woods in the first few miles (or should that be soaking as it's still raining heavily), feeling the soft sandy soil beneath my feet and listening to the rain dripping through the summer tree canopy, I'm in my element. I'm catching occasional glimpses of the runner in front through the trees, so navigating's easy, (provided their going the right way too) and I can't hear anyone behind me, so I must have pulled out a bit of a gap. As far as I'm concerned that's a nice position to be in, no one breathing down your neck and safe in the knowledge that your on track, a chance to relax a bit and take in the wonders around you. By the time the first checkpoint arrives the rains stopped and despite being incredibly humid and wet underfoot (maybe road shoes wasn't the best idea) I'm going well. A quick dib of the tracking device to show that I've been here, and straight through. I've deliberately chosen to start with extra water in my pack today, both to ensure I've got enough to see me through and to try and limit the time spent at checkpoints. As with the Audax lark, it's at checkpoints that time seems to disappear, If you spend 2 minutes filling up bottles and faffing around, that takes some catching back up when your running. Straight through the first 2 checkpoints then, each time leaving before the person who was in front of me, slowly gaining places, through good planning and reducing the stops. I'd originally planned on carrying enough food and water to get me to the end, but the high humidity is taking it's toll, and by the time I reach the 3rd checkpoint I've got through the 2 litres I'd started with. A quick pause to fill up my camelback and the obligatory bit of banter with the lovely people manning the checkpoint and I'm off again. Feet soaking wet from an earlier boggy patch, legs itching like crazy from wading through a patch of bracken, intermingled with nettles, which had overgrown the path, top and shorts soaked through, rain earlier and now sweat from the high humidity, but still having fun!
And then, as I reach the 10 Km to go point, legs tiring and muscles aching from the effort already expended, the biggest morale booster ever. Well, I say biggest morale booster ever, for me it certainly was, I'm guessing that not everyone would have felt the same way though.
As I round a bend in the road I come across the start of the 10 km race, running straight into the back of the pack as they set off. I've already got 40Km in my legs, but my pace is still way faster than a lot of the 10K runners and the morale booster of being able to cut through the back of the pack is unbelievable. When 2 minutes before I was starting to suffer and wonder how I was going to maintain my pace, now I'm on cloud nine and it's easy. Eye up the person in front and chase them down, a few words of encouragement as I go past and on to the next one. As I said, an unbelievable morale boost for me, probably not so good if your running the 10K, pushing to the best of your efforts and being overtaken by someone who's already been going for 3.5 hours and 25 or so miles. I'm taking every advantage I can get today though and if that means demoralising a few 10k runners then so be it. The final miles slowly tick down as I continue to catch and pass the 10k guys, Marathon, 27,28,29,30 and we're into the outskirts of Petersfield. The distance on my watch is creeping slowly towards the magic 31 miles and I can hear the sound of the finish through the trees. Keep pushing, round one last corner and up one last short slope, past one final runner on the finish straight and across the line. Stop my watch, dib the tracking dibber for one last time and breath. Get some more fluids on board and force a sandwich down, eating's the last thing I feel like doing after the mornings efforts, but previous experience shows that it's the first step towards feeling vaguely human again.
How did I get on then? Well, my time of 4:24:45 was good enough for 21st place from the 307 starters (302 finishers) and 5th in my age category and I've got to admit that I'm happy with that. Looking at the results, this years field was extremely competitive compared to previous years. The previous course record set in 2018 was just over 4:10, and if I'd run the same time in 2019 it would have got me second place.
This year though, the first 15 runners came in under the course record and the winning time was a staggering 3:15:58. There's not much I can say to that except Chapeau and add as a postscript that whatever time I came in at, I had a whale of a time and I can't wait for 2022! The one and only problem with the allotment is that it's either all or nothing. With a bit of careful planning and regular sowing of seeds you can spread the season out a bit, but it doesn't always work. Despite growing 3 different varieties of Strawberries, which should, in theory, all crop at slightly different times, it doesn't seem to have worked out like that this year and despite trying to eat nothing but strawberries for breakfast for the past couple of weeks, the plants have still been winning. half an hour on the plot Friday afternoon yielded this little lot and there's no way I'm going to be able to plow my way through all of them before they turn to mush. There's only one option then and that's jam. Not that I'm going to complain about that, because come the middle of winter, when it's cold wet and miserable, I'll be able to pop the lid off a jar of allotment jam and dollop it thickly into my porridge, or lather it on to a home made scone, and I'll instantly be transported back to today. Beautiful! |
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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