Well, here we are again. It's the end of August already and I suppose that heralds the end of Summer and the start of Autumn, just time for one final Hurrah, in the form of the August Bank holiday and then it's all down hill from there.
I suppose the big question this week is, what did I do with my extra day off? Well, grab a brew, pull up a chair, and I'll tell you all about it. But first, an apology for last weeks missing episode in the exciting life of Paul. And that folks, is exactly why I missed last week, because I didn't do anything exciting at all. What! I hear you say, nothing of any interest, unbelievable! Well, it's true I tell you. Ok, I'll admit that I had a few hours on the allotment, I soaked the bit of rail track that “The Emma” acquired for me to use as an anvil, in citric acid to get rid of the rust and gave it a coat of paint. I added a few running and cycling miles to the years total and I went and had a mooch around the Basingstoke Festival of Transport in the sunshine on Sunday afternoon, where “The Emma” was shoving off “Roland Brat” her new shiny play thing. I might have done some cooking and T'cut the bonnet of the Bangernomics Peugot and I might have done a few other odd jobs, but that's about it. See, I told you, nothing of any interest at all, just a dull old weekend.
More importantly though, what about this weekend? Well, seeing as we had an extra day off, it seemed rude not to throw an extra days leave either side and make a real long weekend of it. And if I'm making a long weekend of it, then I might as well make the most of it and get some running and cycling in too. But first, there was the small matter of scattering “The Old Cheese's” ashes. She's been sat, waiting patiently in her ern, alongside her beloved Peter for the right time, and as Friday would have been their wedding anniversary it just seemed right.
The trip down to Worthing to attend to those matters, gave me an opportunity to spread my sights a bit further for the weekend too. So, van packed, sad business attended too and by 5 O'Clock Friday night I was on the road heading for the Sussex/Kent border with my eyes on a bit of cycling and running. Tunes on, sun shining, brew balanced precariously in the cupholder that my flask doesn't quite fit in and I'm happy as Larry. Until, pooteling along some little county road, on route to my night spot and what's this? “Arrggghhh” it's only the red stop and battery lights shining brightly from the dashboard. Instant thoughts of impending doom and my expensive new engine flash though my head as I search franticly for somewhere safe to pull over! Stop, pop the bonnet and have a look. Well, it's still running and it sounds OK. Switch it off and have a look at all the normal suspects, Auxiliary drive belts still there, Alternators all still connected up, Batteries still got 12+ volts, fuses are all Ok. That's about the extent of my fault finding abilities by the side of the road and every thing's pointing toward Alternator failure! Backtracking a few yards along the road with my engine failure paranoia in overdrive, I find a better place to stop and call the nice man from the AA. An hour later the nice man confirms my suspicions, the alternators not charging the battery! On the plus side though, he says that It'll get me back home if he charges up the battery and I don't stop. That sort of screws my weekend plans though and for a short while I debated staying where I was and trying to find a garage to sort it out in the morning. I've been here before though, sense prevails and I run for home, getting back just in time for a quick beer to drown my sorrows with “The Emma”. As usual a good nights sleep puts things back into perspective and a quick google shows that the local motor-factors have got an alternator in stock, which puts a new plan of action in place. “I'll swap the alternator, which will hopefully fix the problem (or at least prove if it's wiring and not mechanical” and get back on the road again to resume my weekend plans. It should only take an hour or so to swap the alternators and get everything tidied away ready to head out again. Not so fast though daddy Oh. Those clever designers at Vauxhaul might have something to say about this master plan. A good look in the daylight and it doesn't look like too bad a job, whip out a couple of bolts, which I know will come out, as I only fitted them a couple of weeks ago, undo a couple of plugs and it'll lift right out of that gap. A gap that it's obviously been designed to fit through. Will it Bol***ks fit through that gap! Why oh why would you design something that you cant get out! Arrrrrggghhhhh! It would appear that the only way to get the alternator out is to move the radiator out of the way to make space. And guess what, to get the radiator out, you've got to take the Intercooler out, and to get the intercooler out, you've got to take the slam panel out, and to get that out you've got to take the bumper, grill and headlights out! I mean, why would you do that, unless you were having a laugh. I can just picture the design team Christmas dinner where they regale each other with stories of the stupid things they've designed this year and award prizes for the most frustrating! “Ha ha Giles, you should have seen what I designed this year, not only is it guaranteed to break after 5 minutes, but they'll never be able to get it out to replace it”. “Oh Tarquin, your such a card” Anyway, I digress as usual. So that little job that should have only taken an hour, actually ended up taking all morning and involved nearly as much cursing as fitting the entire engine did a short while ago. On the positive side though, once I had got it all back together, it fired up first time and the alternator now seems to be kicking out a healthy 14.7 volts, which is better than it's ever been. Another unexpected job done then and just in time for an unplanned bacon butty for lunch, washed down with a bit of “The Emma's” world famous Banana Bread. It was almost worth making the journey home just for that. But not quite worthwhile enough to keep me at home, there's still a weekend of running and cycling to try and squeeze in yet, after all!
The loss of most of Saturday obviously had a knock on effect on my plans for the remainder of the weekend, so having had a bit of a rethink on how best to make use of my time, I'd pushed down to the outskirts of Ashdown Forest, home to Pooh Bear and his friends, on Saturday evening, where I knew there was plenty of opportunity to get some good running and cycling in.
A good nights sleep, tucked away safely in the van, followed by a bit of a lay in and an extra cup of tea, saw me finally up, dressed and ready to rock and roll, in my running kit for just before 9. I'd scoped out what I hoped should be a scenic, yet challenging route and with the weather looking overcast and dull, (the perfect running weather), I should have been raring to go. Somehow though, my heart just wasn't in it as I set off and from the start I had the feeling that this was going to be a long hard day.
As usual, once I'd finally got going and settled into a steady pace, things started to feel a bit better and with some glorious views to distract me, coupled with some fairly technical trails and a complicated route with numerous twists and turns to navigate, the miles soon started to pass. If there is one thing you can say about this part of the world it's “its lumpy”, which seems to go with the good views and scenic territory. East Anglia is probably quite scenic, but you can never see more than 2 feet away as it's all flat, this corner of the South East, seems to hold more in common with Devon and Cornwall though, both for breath taking scenery and breath taking hills.
Climb, descend, turn, style, gate, climb, bridge, expansive view, road crossing, descend, stop to check the map, walk the steep uphill bit whilst getting your breath back, twist and turn, pause to admire the view, and repeat endlessly as the miles tick slowly along, never a dull moment and always something to be doing or looking at.
That's the beauty of running, on paper it seems like a dull way to pass the time, but once you get out there, your fully occupied. Between the map reading, watching where your feet are going and taking in the world around you as you navigate across this beautiful country of ours, there's never a dull moment. A missed turn, just after the half way point, saw me overshoot the van, where I had planned to stop off to refill my water and pick up a sandwich. The result was one of those problems that can only be solved with an internal conversation, “do I turn back adding a mile to my day, or risk pushing on without food and water”? My rumbling belly provided the answer and I backtracked to the Van for a quick stop, refill of the water bottles and grabbed some lunch before pushing on.
With the miles mounting after lunch, so my pace was dropping, and it hadn't been fast to start with. Today had never been about fast though, more about being in the outdoors and travelling through some new countryside. Never the less, even at my slower pace I had the distinct feeling that tiredness was starting to take it's toll. It's not so much the legs that go first, but my ability to think straight that often seems to be the first indicator of tiredness. It's the little things that tell, the missed turns, the confusion when you do get off track and the inability to quickly solve the problem and get back on track, all sure signs that the energy levels are low and it's going to be a hard few miles.
And as the miles mounted I seemed to be spending far more time trying to work out where I was and get back on track than I should have been. Concentrate me, we're over 20 miles in and there's only a few more to go until we're done. Just pay attention for a few more miles and it will be a lot easier.
That seemed to do the trick for a while, but eventually coming through 26 miles, that familiar feeling of loosing the will to carry on raised its ugly head! “What are we doing this for”? “This isn't fun”, “We ran an Ultra 2 weeks ago and we're doing a marathon next week, why are we pushing ourselves today”? And so it goes on, until either you block the doubting voices out, or you let them win. In this case, I won the fight for a while, until with about a mile and a half left to go, the path in front of me went straight up. Ok, Ok, you win today voices in my head, we'll walk the last bit if it shuts you up! Sometimes, you've got to learn to pick your battles, and in this case there was no point in beasting myself and getting injured just for the sake of pride, at the end of the day what's a mile or so of walking when you've already run 26? Ignominy of walking that last bit or not though, you can be sure of one thing. I'd had a brilliant day out. It may not have been fast, it may not have been pretty, but I'd been outside, I'd seen some places that I'd never seen before and I had that well deserved feeling of tiredness that comes from a big day out and a job well done.
With my legs still clearly remembering Sundays run and the day dawning overcast, damp and chilly, Monday was going to have to involve a bit of cycling. As I mentioned earlier this part of the country's a bit lumpy so hopefully today's efforts on top of yesterdays should test my old legs a bit,. At the end of the day, there's no point in making life easy and if it's not hurting it's not doing any good, or words to that effect.
Surprisingly, as I tackled the first of the climbs straight from the van, (like I said there's no point in making it easy), my legs felt strangely good, no lingering stiffness from yesterdays efforts, in fact better than they often feel on a normal morning commute. The question was, is that a good thing or were they going to fall off at some point during the morning, probably when I was furthest from the van, if normal proceedings are anything to go by.
What goes up, must come down, and that first short climb was followed immediately by a long gradual descent and another long climb, which pretty much set a precedent for the first half of the day. Easy slow climbing up, fast descent down the other side, rinse and repeat., happy days!
A few steeper bits materialised as the morning progressed but nothing to taxing and despite the morning being somehow chilly, yet humid at the same time, the rain managed to hold off. With nothing much of note happening, 60 miles through some glorious countryside, saw me back at the van in time for a late lunch and brew before packing up and heading for home. Certainly not the weekend that I had originally planned but a mini adventure non the less despite the Van problems at the start. I suppose that these things are sent to test us and it's certainly been testing me over the past few weeks, but in the same vein, it's all been a learning experience and I'm certainly far more knowledgeable and resilient than I was a few months back so that's got to be a good thing. Saturdays kerfuffle may have dented my weekend plans but it certainly didn't ruin them and if I can encounter a problem like that and resolve it myself and still rescue something from the ashes then that's a win in my books!
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Sometimes I should probably just keep my mouth shut.
Not 3 weeks ago, after the Round Reading ultra, I commented that I was never likely to stand on the podium of a race. Well, blow me down, if within a fortnight of opening my mouth, I’ve only gone and won one run and come second in another. What the hell’s going on? I’m supposed to be slowing down and getting old gracefully, not posting some of my best times! I’ll admit that the first win doesn’t really count as it was only the monthly 5km lunchtime run out at work. But when you consider that I actually work with some pretty fit guys (it tends to go with the job), that the average age of the people I work with is 33 whilst I’m 49, and that I was running against 20 odd people that are younger by a considerable margin than me, I’ll take that one. I’ll grant you with a time of 19:58 it wasn’t exactly blistering pace, but as far as I’m concerned anything under 20 minutes is pretty good, even more so when you take into account that I’d not only cycled the 11 miles into work that morning, but had run the Round Reading ultra 3 days before! As we will see in a minute, my next cheeky little result was a bit more difficult though. In my never ending hunt for things to do, I’d spotted the Salisbury Plain 50m a while back. It was billed as a cheeky little 50 mile jaunt around the Salisbury plain training area, starting and finishing just outside of Tidworth and taking in some of the high (and low) spots of the vast Army training area which surrounds it. That seemed right up my alley and in a moment of stupidity I’d signed straight up.
I'm sure it goes without saying that those few months since I'd put my money where my mouth is (or more accurately my name on the start list) had fairly flown by, and by the time I found myself stood on the start line, with a handful of other like minded lunatics at 06:45 in the drizzle on Sunday morning, I was starting to have second thoughts about my sanity!
On the plus side though, with the van now back on the road I'd had a great night’s sleep in the car park right on the start line, I'd sat in the sun with a cold beer for an hour reading my book Saturday afternoon and had watched the sun go down over the fields of drying Oats the night before, so maybe everything wasn’t quite so bad in the world after all! On an even bigger positive note, the start line briefing held some terrible and disappointing news. Due to ongoing Army training the organisers had been forced into a slight re-routing of the course the day before and it might now be a bit short of 50 miles. How far short of 50 miles, they had no idea as there hadn’t been time to re-measure it, and quite how that was disappointing news, I’ve no idea either. Shorter, that’s great by my books and if you really feel the need to make up the extra your welcome to do a few laps round the car park. Me, I’ll be stopping as soon as I cross the line! Bad/good news safely delivered, it was just a case of watching as the clock slowly ticked down to 07:00 and we could set off. In common with many events at the moment there was no set start time, with the 50 mile runners departing, as and when they were ready, between 07:00 and half past. I’d guess that the majority of the 35 starters were there champing at the bit for 07:00 though. They’re a keen bunch these ultra runners I can tell you. In the typical understated fashion of many of these events, we stood chatting, getting damper by the minute until someone said “It’s 7 O’Clock off you go” and with a bit of shoulder shrugging and a few “I suppose we’d best get on with it then” we were off. That’s what I love about a lot of these smaller event’s, it’s just like-minded people doing the things they enjoy, but so understated. 50 miles, “Oh, alright then, if I have to”. No, look at me aren’t I great. Just a few idiots out for a bit of a fun!
And just like that we were off, across the start line far too fast as usual, and straight onto the long slow drag of a climb which seemed to go on for the next 20 miles. I kid you not, I’m pretty certain that it was all uphill until we got to the second checkpoint at Gore Cross. I’ll grant you it certainly wasn’t steep or strenuous climbing, in fact a bit steeper in places would have been better. Steeper would have made it a bit more realistic to walk the up hill's, instead of keeping plodding on and given the old legs a bit of a break!
Uphill or not, it was some lovely running along well surfaced gravel tracks, through mile after mile of nothing, except the odd military viewpoint or storage building. Fields of wild grass, corn and ripening wheat gently rippling like a calm sea in the breeze to the sides, and once the drizzle finally stopped after the first hour or so and the sun came out, some lovely expansive views across Wiltshire and the surrounding counties. Beautiful! Once the pace had settled down and we’d all spread out a bit, I’d fallen in step with the guy in 3rd position on the road and after a few brief introductions we had settled into a pretty steady pace which seemed to suit us both. Despite the fact that we were both regularly mentioning the fact that we seemed to be going a bit fast, neither of us seemed inclined to do much about it, and as we plodded along chatting about life in general the miles were slowly ticking down. In fact as we reached the second checkpoint and the end of that interminable uphill, we had caught up with the man in 3rd place who mentioned that after a fast start he was starting to have a few foot problems. I'd had a few twinges of cramp in the couple of miles before checkpoint 2 myself, so took my time to ensure my camelback was refilled, get a couple of cups of water and some salty snacks on board and grabbed a sandwich and some salty pretzels from my backpack to see me through the next few miles and hopefully keep the cramp at bay. As such my previous companion left a few minutes ahead of me, not to worry though, I'd still got 30 miles to catch back up in. In fact before we got to the Marathon point at 26 miles I'd caught and passed not only my previous companion, but the man in second place on the road too, and was rapidly gaining on the first place runner. Pushing on, the sun finally came out and with it the temperature rocketed, not what you need when there's no shade and the miles are starting to rack up. There's not much you can do about that though, except keep on getting the fluids on board, drop the pace if it starts to really hurt and push on. And push on I did, pushing on to the point where I'd caught and overtaken the first place man by the time 26 miles came along in a respectable smidgen under 4 hours. Coming into the 30 mile checkpoint as the first runner on the road was a novel experience, but I wasn't alone for long, as by the time I'd grabbed some water and was just thinking about leaving, my previous companion rolled in, having also gained 2 places, leaving us in first and second. I wasn't going to hang around now I was on a roll though, and pushed on ahead of him as soon as I was ready. With the sun still beating down, the terrain having flattened out and the route following wide gravel roads, I found this next leg a real struggle. I've often said that long distance running (and cycling) is as much a mental battle as a physical one and that certainly played true today. With nothing to occupy my mind and nothing much to look at, it became a monotonous slog for a few miles. One foot in front of the other, repeated 65,000 times, starts to get a bit dull after a while, but eventually the next check point came and went and with no sign of those behind me on the road I just needed to keep on pushing on.
Towards the 40 mile mark I got a bit of a lift from the monotony as I started to not only come into territory that I vaguely recognised from working in the area in a previous job, but started to pick up the odd back marker from the Marathon distance run being held on the same day. Not many, but the odd person struggling along in front gave me someone to focus on catching, passing and acknowledging as I made my way slowly past.
It was at the final checkpoint at 41 miles that I got the best news though. Apparently it was only another 6 or 7 miles to the finish, which meant that the forecast of the route coming up short was likely to be correct and instead of 50 miles we were only looking at 47 or maybe 48. Result, fingers crossed I could have this one in the bag, 7 miles is less than the run to work, get in! My new found enthusiasm was soon knocked out of me by the steepest climb of the day straight after that final checkpoint! That will teach me to start counting my chickens before they hatch. Hauling myself slowly skywards, didn't seem much fun, but due to the steepness it didn't take long to gain all the height required to get to the finish and resume the slow run on flatter surfaces. Onwards, counting down the miles, passing the odd back marker from the shorter race and with the end now in sight I was starting to enjoy myself again after those few dark miles. 45 miles came and went and as 46 slowly hove into sight so did the road crossing that signified the beginning of the end and a return back towards the start. Do I pickup the pace, relying in the fact that it can't be far to the end, or maintain this slow plod, just in case there is still another 5 miles to go? In the end the answer was handed to me on a plate whilst I pondered what to do as rounding the corner at 46.5 miles the finish line hove into view, and with it no other option but to put on a last minute spurt for the line.
7 hours, 39 minutes and 57 seconds after setting off I was back where I started from, and whilst I'll grant you it was only 46.5 miles instead of the planned 50 that's a time I'm more than happy with for the distance.
The big question on everyone's lips though, was how did I get on position wise? Well, I crossed the line first from all the runners that set off at the same time as me, but that doesn't count for anything and with the staggered start it would be a while before all the runners were finished and final times and positions could be worked out. The final result then? Second from the 35 that started, with the fastest man coming in six and a bit minutes faster than me. There's no doubt that I could probably have gone a bit faster in the first few miles and probably have won outright. But you know what, those 15 miles I spent in company chatting were probably the best miles of the whole day, and whilst I would have been faster on my own, I wouldn't change a single thing. I said 3 weeks ago, It's not about the podium place or even a good finish time. For me it's all about having a good day out, with a few like minded people and enjoying myself, anything else is just an added bonus! More bad news everybody. No, the vans still working and I've just changed the gearbox oil, Thermostat and leaky radiator, in the bangernomics Peugot and that's running a treat too. You wouldn't believe the difference that draining 1.2 Litres of black sludge out of the gearbox and replacing it with the correct 1.9 Litres of proper oil made, it's like a new car. So what's the bad news then? Well, I'm between projects, which means that I've got nothing better to do than get annoyed and think up long rambling blog posts while I'm out running or cycling. Normally, all of that brain power is taken up trying to solve some problem or another, like figuring out how to get a half Ton van engine off a pallet and into the van when all you've got is a bit of rope and an E Bay engine crane that won't fit over the pallet. But, I digress again. So what am I ranting about today? Well, how about "get off the road bike wa**er" or "why don't you use the cycle path you to**er". Well, todays your lucky day (or possibly unlucky) as I'm going to tell you why, and the first thing I'm going to say is, because in general cycle lanes are not fit for purpose. For a starters lets have a look at dual use cycle paths (cyclists and pedestrians). Now, I'm no Chris Froome, in fact I'd be hard pushed to keep up with Miss Daisy, but I can maintain a reasonable average speed, across a fair distance. In fact, over the last 6 months, my average speed on my commute to work, has been 15.3 mph. Not fast by any stretch of the imagination, but if you think that's an average speed and for long periods of my journey I might only be doing 10 mph into wind or uphill, that must mean for an equally long period I'm doing 20 mph. So do we really think, that I should be cycling on the pavement, with the children, dog walkers and people wandering along watching a film on their phones? Or would I be better off doing 20mph on the road with the lorries and cars. I'll let you ponder that one, whilst I move on to my next favourite subject. Infrastructure; Now, there's a few of these, so lets start with an easy one. Cycle paths that just disappear; Now these are pretty common. There will be a big arrow painted on the road, directing cyclists off onto a path, and the path will carry on for a short distance and then either just abruptly end. Or, just as likely, direct you straight back onto the bit of road that you were on 10 seconds ago. Now what the bloody hell is the point of that, I might as well have just carried on along the road. Sometimes, these ones have a special trick up their sleeve too and will be combined with another favourite. They direct you off the road, take you down a side street for a few yards, make you get off to cross the road and then direct you back onto the road you were already on on the other side of the junction. Pointless! How about this one, the magic "change side's of the road for no reason". There you will be, happily following the cycle path and then for no explainable reason, except for the paths better on the other side of the road, your directed to cross the road. So you fight your way across a couple of lanes of traffic, continue happily on your way for a few hundred yards, and repeat the process again back to the other side! I mean, how is fighting your way across a couple of lanes of fast moving traffic possibly safer than being on the road in the first place? Sometimes, you can be happily traveling along the path, get directed to the other side and then left in no mans land. In the picture below, taken from my commute, I'm directed to the opposite side of the road, and I'll hasten to add that there's a traffic light controlled crossing 100m before the change in direction. But, I need to go left at the roundabout in another 100m and now I'm stuck on the wrong side of the road and the wrong side of the roundabout. I'll ask again, how is that sensible infrastructure or safe? And what about this for a peach. The stop at every junction whilst the road running alongside carries happily on it's way. So, you'll be on the cycle path, following alongside a road with priority and at every junction where another road joins from the side, the cyclist has to stop and give way before crossing. Surely they could just move the give way markings on the joining road back a bit, meaning that the joining traffic also has to give way to cyclists travelling in the same direction as the main road. If you consider this in an urban setting, where there can be roads joining every few meters, your constantly stopping. It's a wonder anyone uses theses abominations, you'll never get anywhere stopping every 50 yards, let alone average 15mph. And I've saved the best one till last. The "Cyclists Dismount". So, there you are, happily plodding along your cycle path and you get to a junction and I'll hasten to add that these are often seen in conjunction with the stupidity above, and your directed to not only give way to the car traffic crossing the cycle way, but get off and walk across. Now forgive me if I'm wrong, but I've never come across a road junction that says "Drivers, turn off your engine, get out and push your car across" have you? To be honest that might be a good idea and get some of the stupidly big cars off the road. Sorry little old lady, but your going to have to push your 4x4 across here. Although, I'd guess that some of the lorry drivers might have something to say about it! Altogether now "Push"! So there's just 3 examples and we haven't even touched on most of the problems. How about bollards, anti motorbike gates and defences, street signs in the middle of the path because they can't go on the road, smashed glass, overgrown hedges, verges and bushes, potholes, unsuitable path surfaces, massive puddles. What about people parking across the cycle path? Paths that take you off all around the houses instead of following the direct route (I'm looking at you National Cycle Network), paths that go nowhere, paths that end up in pedestrian precincts and paths that just spit you out onto some bit of wasteland with all the murders and fly-tippers. And that's before we even consider the 99.999999999% of roads that haven't even got a cycle path along them! Now, in fairness, I've got to admit that occasionally you do come across a good bit of cycling infrastructure that's a pleasure to use, and unsurprisingly, lots of cyclists use it. Let's take a look at this horrible roundabout on my way home, it's an absolute nightmare to drive round, so the thought of taking too it on my bike fills me with dread. Not to worry though, the forward thinking town planners installed a subway system under all the roads. Good old forward thinking 1960's town planners, you can have a pat on the back for that one. You approach the roundabout on the road, come off onto the path just before the junction, slow to a stop to negotiate the barriers on the path (good design as it's also a pedestrian path) cross under the road, go across the middle of the roundabout, cross under the road on the other side and re-join further down. Bloody brilliant and a life saver, why aren't there more like that I hear you ask. Well, I'll let you in on a little secret shall I. This ones only still here because Covid has delayed the road modernisation plans to increase the size of the roundabout to ease traffic congestion. And guess what, in order to increase the width of the roads the subways are being filled in and replaced with traffic light controlled pedestrian crossings on the road entries. Now how the F***K is that safer or making the traffic flow better? In order to get home your going to have to stop the traffic on 3 major roads and wait to cross, instead of just sailing serenely underneath whilst the traffic flows calmly over your head. Brilliant, free flowing traffic and cyclist segregation. That's how it should be. It's a shame then that this is going to be removed in order to make the road wider, whilst installing traffic light controlled crossings at the entry to each roundabout junction, meaning the free flowing traffic will now have to stop every time someone wants to get across. Brilliant! So you want to know why no one uses cycle paths and would rather risk their own lives on the road? Well, maybe that's given you a little insight. No one want's to be mixing it with 40 ton lorries and idiots in 4x4's playing with their phone's, or arguing with the wife about the repayments instated of concentrating on where they are going. But, if you want to actually get anywhere, you haven't got a lot of choice, until they actually get a grip and sort out the infrastructure!
Who would have thought, that it's August? Great British summer, my arse. I've got wet more times this week than I'm sure I deserve, including the entire duration of my Saturday morning run. The rain started just as I left the house and continued until about 10 minutes after I got back. It could have carried on raining all morning, but Oh no, it had to stop for a while just to annoy me! Typical. Anyhow, what have I been up to this week. Well, for the first time in a while, I'd not actually got anything lined up, which, as it turned out, was quite handy. If you cast your minds back to the middle of June I'd taken the engine out of the van for rebuilding and despite being promised a 2 week turnaround time, 6 weeks later it finally came back, arriving on a pallet with a friendly courier towards the end of last week. Having initially been working to the mystical 2 week deadline, I'd already spent quite a considerable amount of time, cleaning and inspecting the plethora of removed parts, sourcing spares and replacements (more of which later) and fixing all the chaffed wires and dodgy looking bits, in preparation for refitting, so we should be good to go. However, having had 6 weeks worth of sleep since I'd taken it out, now it had eventually come back, I'd pretty much forgotten how it all went back together. Even looking at some of the hundreds of photos I'd taken while stripping it didn't seem to help much, with no frame of reference, they were just a plug or pipe attached to something else. Oh well, I could look in the manual, but as I haven't got one, I guess that I'll just have to figure it out as I go then! Probably not the best approach, but not a lot of choice in this case. 1 pallet of fun, and the fun starts with trying to get it back off the pallet. In the spirit of transparency this is actually a photo from when I sent it off, but I don't seem to have taken many of the rebuild and you get the general idea. It looked pretty much the same when it came back, except the rocker cover/inlet manifold wasn't fitted, it was a lot cleaner and it wasn't as well strapped down. After working out how to get it safely back off the pallet and up the right way, it was just a case of fitting the bits back onto the engine whilst it was still on the floor (or more accurately hanging from the crane), before bolting the whole thing back in. It seemed sensible to fit a new clutch, slave cylinder and pipes while it was out, and there had been a minor oil seep from the gearbox input shaft seal for a while so it made sense to replace that and the driveshaft seals too, while I was at it. Stick the Exhaust manifold and turbo assembly back on as one lump, add the Starter motor, Power steering pump, Alternator and Throttle body assembly. Figure out how the dozens of seals that seal the combined inlet manifold and rocker cover fit (who thought that was a good idea) and bang that on, and were nearly ready to hang the engine back in. Just add the fuel injectors and fuel rail and were good to go. Except, where are the studs and mounting hardware, for the injectors and where is the clamp for the new injector supplied by the engine builders? Oh, that's right, they've not sent the clamp back and instead of telling me that the old hardware is scrap and they're not supplying new ones 6 weeks ago, they've left it until I get the engine back and ask! Fair play, they sent the clamp and old injector down for next day delivery, but the only mounting set I could find, was in, wait for it. Germany! Luckily it wasn't a total show stopper as I could carry on and fit the injectors later but still pretty annoying when I've been sat Twiddling my thumbs for 6 weeks! Much jiggling, fiddling, wiggling and tiggling later and I had the engine sat securely in it's resting place. And that's the easy bit done. Now all I've got to do is work out how all these wires and pipes go back on. Much head scratching, fitting, removing, wiggling and fiddling later and I'm finally getting somewhere. One more quick job then, before I knock it on the head for the day. I'll just stick some coolant in, now everything's connected up. H'mmm it appears to be coming back out the other end as fast as I'm pouring it in. I'm sure that's not supposed to happen! A quick bit of investigation later and where's it leaking from. Yep, you guessed it, the only pipe fitted by the engine builders and the one that the entire engine seems to have been built around. I could honestly have cried! So, in order to even get to the leaky pipe, I have to; pull the newly fitted R/H drive shaft and attaching bits back out. Pull the thermostat and pretty much every hose connection back off, as that holds the pipe in from the other end. Endure much swearing as I try to undo the bolt holding the pipe in, as that's clearly been put on by a gorilla, when they had loads of access and nothing else in the way. And when I do finally get the pipe loose, the reason it's leaking? Well, not only does it look like the wrong size O ring seal, but it appears to have been put in while the paint on the pipe was still wet too! What now? I clearly haven't got a seal and it looks like they didn't have the right one either! No problem, I'll use my engineering initiative, measure it up and order one from E Bay and just to be sure, source one from Renault, who made the engine and stuck their name all over it, in the week. Helpfully, Renault initially said "We can't help you as it's not fitted to a Renault vehicle". No, but it's your engine and every part's got Renault written on it! Then when I found them the actual part number of the seal in question. Said, "That's a discontinued part". Ok said I "Where am I supposed to get one from then"? Que much French style shoulder shrugging and an "I don't know, you could try the internet" response. Thanks for that Renault main dealer, you've been a lot of help, as usual! Either way, fast forward to this weekend and my e bay seal and bits from Germany have arrived. So a bit of fiddling around to get my carefully measured seal back in and with baited breath, chuck some more coolant back in. leak free, yippee! Right lets get those Injectors and fuel pipes in and give it a whirl. Again seen during disassembly, but the pipe in question is now buried under the turbo assembly, in fact you cant even see it now. That's also the back side of the engine, so goes up against the bulkhead and the drive shafts stop you getting to it from underneath. Imagine my frustration then, what that started leaking from the off! I don't think that I've ever been as nervous as I was the first time I flicked the key to spin it over. Oil pressure lights gone out, that's a good sign. Stop, have a good look around and do the same thing a couple more times to start pulling some fuel through and get the oil moving, then stick the glow plugs in and give it a go for real. Cranking fine, but no start, try again, still no start. H'mmmm, not so good. What's this though? A bit of fuel leaking from one of the injector pipes, that will stop it, as there wont be any fuel pressure. Tighten that up and try again and away she goes. The feeling of relief when it started was almost indescribable. Not only is it running but it sounds good too. Another couple of hours, spent dodging the showers, to get the front end rebuilt and fit all the little bits that you never think about and we're good to go. Just a few meters up the road to start with, then stop, check for leaks and loose bits. Looking good. Round the block then and do the same again, then round the ring road and finally the sky's the limit! I've racked up just over 50 miles this weekend running around, testing things, while looking for leaks. And fingers crossed, apart from plenty of smoke as all the sealant, oily finger marks and excess grease etc burned off, it looks like we could be back in the game. It's leak free, appears to be running Ok and sounds alright, so that looks promising. It will get a longer run next weekend as I've got a long run in the pipeline, so I'll use it to get there and back, but fingers crossed its all systems go! It's been a real tester this one, when it first broke and the garage said they couldn't (or wouldn't) fix it, I really thought I was screwed. I was left with 2 choices, either come up with a way to fix it myself, or source a new van and swap all the bits over. If I sourced a new van, it wasn't going to be cheap, I'd be left with an unknown starting point and I'd still have a massive job of swapping everything over.
The other option, pull the engine out myself and get it rebuilt. There's nothing wrong with the rest of the van, in fact it's immaculate. But who in their right minds going to try and remove and refit, a complex modern engine, on their driveway (actually, in a parking space by my garage, as I haven't even got a driveway), having never even taken a car engine out, let alone a tight fitting, heavy van engine. This idiot, that's who. And you know what, it might have been a stressful time, full of unknowns and self doubts, but now it's done and fingers crossed running, the feeling of satisfaction is immense and to say that I've learned a lot about how a modern(ish) diesel engine works is a massive understatement. I'll see how it goes over the next few weeks, before I count my chickens, but things are definitely looking more positive than they did a few weeks ago and if it all goes wrong again. Well, at least I know how to get the engine out and back in again, so it's not been a total waste of time. And the seal? Well fingers crossed it's still holding up, although the one I've measured up for and fitted measures 4 or 5mm in diameter and 0.5mm in thickness smaller than the leaking one I removed. Which, assuming that as it's currently leak free, is right, probably accounts for why it was leaking. Is it the right one though? Well, I guess that we will never know, unless Renault suddenly decide to be a lot more helpful than they've ever been before!
Here we go again then, by some strange quirk of timing I've managed to squeeze two 50Km runs into July and that's on top of cycling to the Peak District and back for our holiday! Sometimes even I think that I'm nuts. But then again, I'm going to be a long time dead, so I might as well make best use of the time that I have got.
This weekends main event was the Round Reading Ultra Marathon, a run that had been on my radar for a while and one that I'd even got as far as entering, but never made the start of, during my injury ruined 2019 summer. Despite the Covid kerfuffle this one had gone ahead in 2020 too, somehow managing to fit itself into the summer loosening of restrictions, but I guess I must have had other plans as it didn't feature in my running calendar last year either. 2021 was going to be the year when I finally managed the round Reading loop then, and as such, an early start from home saw me ready and raring to go for my planned 07:45 start. In order to maintain some social distancing, we were set off in groups of 10, with a couple of minutes between groups. Not a mass start with its unique atmosphere, but a good idea in my opinion, not only keeping everyone safe and apart, but stopping the mad rush to the first bend and the resulting bottle necks when everyone gets to the first gate or style together. From the start at Sonning (to the North side of Reading) it was straight onto the Thames path for the first leg, taking us across the top side of town. In the cool, early morning air, this proved to be a nice, easy start to the day, giving the old legs a chance to loosen up, allowing the pace to settle down and with the path wide and flat, allowing plenty of space for runners to pass each other and find their natural position.
With the river for company, slowly carving it's majestic way through the Thames valley, lined with canal boats, river cruisers and further up the riverside, the homes of the wealthy London over spill, there was plenty to occupy the mind and distract you from the task in hand and despite a few spots of rain early on, it was already showing the makings of a great day out.
Like all good things though, eventually the easy running came to an end, with a turn away from the river to start the South Bound leg. The turn also marked a distinct change in environment with the serene riverside being replaced with an interesting route through housing estates, parks and the odd bit of more open countryside. Left, Right, Squeeze through the anti cycling barriers onto a footpath, negotiate a gate, mind the dog walkers stopped on the path for a chat, back onto the road for a short section, cross the railways, stop for a major road crossing and start again for what seemed like forever, yet never seemed dull or problematic. To be honest whoever came up with the route had done an excellent job and considering the area we were passing through it was well thought out and made excellent use of the footpaths and open spaces which permeate our towns and cities. Eventually, just after the half way point, the housing came to an end, to be replaced with the landscaped office spaces and more industrial areas of Green park and the first crossing of the M4 to take us to the leg back along the bottom. Steady progress through Three Mile Cross, saw us back into more open countryside, a welcome change after the housing and endless twists and turns. Past the sprawling housing complex which has replaced the old Arborfield Garrison and onward towards Winnersh. A quick checkpoint stop to top up my water and grab a chocolatey treat to see me through the last few miles (nice one Tunnocks, these could be my new favorite running snack) and onto the last leg. North we go, heading back towards the start and finish. Coming into Winnersh, with almost a Marathon in my legs, the heat and humidity started to take it's toll and despite getting plenty of fluids on board throughout the morning, the first twinges of cramp started rippling through my calves. Dropping the pace slightly helped, and when the 26 mile mark appeared at 3:40 I knew that maybe I'd gone out a bit fast for the conditions. Not to worry though, my slightly slower pace was helping and with only 5 miles left to go it was just a case of plodding on. A short rain shower helped wash the salty sweat from my face into my eyes. But, further on it looked like I'd had a lucky escape on the rain front, as the roads still had rivers running down the gutters, with large puddles littering the path, yet I'd barely got wet! A final short uphill section saw the end hove into sight and with one final push I was across the line, another 30 miles in my legs and another Ultra Marathon ticked off. A Finish time of 4:21 was good enough for 16th place from the 233 finishers and to be honest I'm pretty happy with that. I could probably have taken another couple of minutes out of it if I'd paced things a bit better at the start, but there's no point in killing yourself. I run for the fun of it, not to win and I'd rather enjoy myself than push myself to the limit. Maybe that's not the right attitude and probably explains why I'll never stand on the podium, but at the end of the day, it's my choice, I'm happy, and despite the protestations from my legs, I'm having fun! |
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
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