You'll all be pleased to know that after last week’s little car fixing interlude, normal service is resuming this week. Although, if your only here for the adventuring you'll be disappointed to know that there's probably going to be a bit more fun (or not as the case may be) with cars to come, as “The Boy” has been up this week to drop off his little run around, which possibly needs some work to get through the MOT and has some weird and wonderful intermittent noise to investigate.
As we all know, you can't fix something that's not broken, and when I drove it the other day it sounded fine, so we’ll have to see where that one ends up. I've also got a few other “Project” related things in the pipeline over the winter months, which will no doubt keep me busy and give me something to bore you all with! Please stick around though, because there's still plenty of stupid running and cycling adventures to come and I'm sure that even when there's nothing specific going on it won't take long for me to get itchy feet and find my own outdoors fun.
So, what have I been up to this week then? Well, for a starter’s you'll already have seen the back end of last week’s post covering pottering with “The Emma's” Peugeot, which dragged into Saturday this week.
Sometimes I wish that I'd never started a job and that was one of those. A simple Wishbone replacement actually turned into, Wishbones on both sides, both inner and outer Steering arms and a L/H Shock Absorber, Drop Link and Upper Shock strut mount. On the positive side though, once I'd finally finished swearing, being able to drive it without a million clunks every time you hit the slightest ripple in the road was a very satisfying moment. Looking at the cost of the parts alone, I would think that having that lot replaced by the garage would have cost more than the cars worth. It’s still a brilliant little car though, and original and un-tampered with examples are getting rarer, so in my opinion it’s well worth saving, plus I got the satisfaction of having fixed it myself, and I know that now it's actually right too! Other than swearing, I did manage to get a few running miles in on Saturday morning. Nothing special, just 7 road miles around home, but if I'm honest that made quite a nice change. The route I ran is one that I used to do almost daily at one time, but probably haven't done for at least a year, and it's surprising the things that change in that time. A new house extension here, a few changes to people’s gardens there, the never-ending roadworks, and the ever-changing trees and vegetation that cover our roadsides, yet we normally barely even notice, all of which help to take your mind off the task in hand and give you something to look at and think about as you pass by.
A couple of hours on the Allotment in the morning got a few more of the little Autumn jobs done too. The Tomatoes have reached the end of their productive time, so they all made it to the compost heap, leaving one side of the greenhouse empty for the first time since last winter.
I must say that they've been really productive this year, providing far more tomatoes than even I could eat through the summer months, and I'm going to miss the taste of homegrown tomatoes through the dark winter days. A shop bought version just can’t compare! The continuing warm spell has done wonders for the Chillies too and I'm now inundated with hot red chillies and I picked the last of the bell peppers too, which I'm sure will find their way onto the dinner table at some point next week. There's still plenty of other veg still on the plot to see us through the winter and some still to reach maturity (Sprouts), with loads of Beetroot, Leeks, Parsnips, Kale, Cabbages and Chard still growing strongly and a couple of Pumpkins and Squash which should keep for a couple of months in a cool dark place, so I don’t think that were going to starve.
Before I move onto this weekend’s main event, I just wanted to share this picture that I took on the way to work one morning in the week. I'm often treated to a beautiful sunrise on my morning cycle commute, but the sunrise below actually made me double back (uphill) to get a picture. As always, the camera doesn't do it justice, but it looked like the whole world was on fire just over the horizon.
I think you'll agree that sights like that more than make up for the effort of dragging myself onto the bike every morning, and the odd morning when I get rained on!
Right, odd jobs done for the time being, lets get onto the important stuff and a bit of Audaxing.
The clocks changing signify only two things in my life, a week of being tired, miserable, confused and hungry at the wrong time, and the Petworth start or end of Summer time 200 km Audax’s. 200 km of Audxing fun, starting and finishing, as the name would suggest, in Petworth. Now, I’ve done both of these rides a couple of times before, (start and end of summer) so I’m not going to go into loads of detail, if you want the "nitty gritty" have a look here (Start of Summer). But I will say that I was looking forward to this one. I mentioned at my last outing that it’s not the best or most inspiring route, but it does have some interesting (read big) climbs, and takes in some nice country lanes, whilst still managing to cover plenty of faster roads which helps to keep the average pace up and stop it becoming a slog fest. I’ve not been out on the bike properly for a few weeks either, which always helps with the enthusiasm.
Waking up in the night to the sound of rain on the van roof wasn’t the best of signs, and when I woke up properly at 05:00 (nice one changing the clocks) it was still raining! Not to worry though, we weren’t scheduled to start until 08:30 so there was plenty of time for an extra brew and for the rain to stop.
Except it didn’t. By 08:30 as the bold and the brave (stupid), gathered in the car park ready for the off, the rain was still falling heavily enough to put a dampener on proceedings. Not to worry though, you can only get wet once, and with a promise from the organiser that it would stop raining at 09:00 we were off. Heading first to Liphook then on to Petersfield, before the long, steep, climb for a crossing of the South Downs at Harting Down and the run down to the coast at Chichester, before looping back for lunch at Petworth. The morning progressed without comment, and as promised at bang on 09:00 the rain stopped, leaving a cloudy and overcast, yet unseasonably warm and humid day, which required a rapid removal of my rain jacket to avoid being boiled alive. A strong head wind on the exposed run down to the coast made for some hard going, but by 12:00 I was back at the halfway control tucking into a plate of beans on toast, ready for the afternoon’s fun. The afternoon loop doesn’t have the long steep climbs of the morning, but does seem to be relentlessly rolling, which keeps the legs working and stops you getting cold. Out from Petworth again and back down to the coast at Shoreham, again into that niggling headwind, before a U turn to head up to the motorway services at Pease Pottage and then a final run back to the start in time for tea and medals. The afternoon progressed nicely with only the rare sighting of 3 horse riders dressed up in Halloween fancy dress proceeding sedately up the road, to break the monotony. And an obscure conversation with a motorist as I stood at the petrol station in the services astride my bike in full cycling kit, who stopped specially to ask if I knew where he could charge his electric car? Errrr no, I’ve come on my bike, why would I know about car charging? Unfortunately, the rain returned as darkness descended (in the middle of the afternoon, thanks again clock changing), but by that time I was less than an hour from the finish, so getting wet wasn’t too much of an issue. And as I said earlier, it’s still unseasonably warm and the rain hasn’t got that icy cold edge to it that it will have in another few weeks, so even that did little to dispel my good spirits. Just after 17:30 and in total darkness (oh how things have changed in those few short months since the longest day back in June) I was back at the start, tucking into a slice of cake and a hot brew, with another 130 miles to add to the year’s total. Not a bad day out then and only another 146 days until the clocks go forward and I can do it all again.
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Something a bit different this week folks. I was going to cover the last 2 weeks worth of blog in one post, as nothing of any real interest happened last weekend. But, having finally got writing, I think that's going to be a bit long, so instead, here's last week, with a bit of this week thrown in for good measure, and if your really lucky I'll be back with another exciting instalment of "Pauls dull life" next week. With no planned Cycling or running I thought I'd have a weekend at home and catch up on a few of the odd jobs that I'd been ignoring all summer whilst I was busy having fun, but, as you'll soon see, things didn't go quite to plan. So, first job, sort the van out. A couple of months ago, it started making an awful noise, which I quickly narrowed down to one of the radiator cooling fans. Once I knew what it was, any urgency to fix it disappeared, and I added it too my to do list. Having gradually got worse over the last few weeks though, I spent an evening trawling the internet looking for a replacement, a task which was easier to say than do, as typically my van's completely different to every other version out there! Eventually though I managed to find a replacement at great expense, which turned up a few days later. Excellent service without a doubt, it's just a shame that despite having the correct part number and the picture on the advert being for the bit I needed, the bit that was actually in the box was completely the wrong part, which obviously delayed proceedings and required a bit of a rethink! Having discovered that the only new part in the entire world was the wrong one, plan B necessitated a second hand version courtesy of one of the E Bay scrappies, which arrived just as quickly and looked about right. Testing it on the bench looked promising too, so I cleaned it up and put it to one side ready for the next nice day when I could swap them over. Que, Saturday morning and with the weather looking Ok, I bit the bullet and made a start. Now, you'd think that swapping a radiator cooling fan would be a quick ten minute job, but how wrong you'd be. Not only are the fans on the back of the radiator, but they're fitted from the radiator side of the mounting, sandwiching it between the mount and the radiator and meaning the only way to get it out, is to take the radiator out. But guess what, the only way to get the radiator out is to take the front of the van off. Nice design Vauxhaul (although I think Renault may be the guilty party in this case)! Either way, front of the van off, radiator out, mounting plate off, fan replaced and back together again, and all by lunchtime. Result! Whilst I had the tools out, I took the opportunity to change the oil and all the filters too and have a general poke around, as you do, so fingers crossed that's the van good to go for the winter. Job one done! Oh, and I finally adjusted the handbrake so it actually works too. Personally, I was quite happy with the “leap from the brake to the clutch approach” when pulling away up hill, and the “leave it in gear when its parked trick”, but the MOT man wasn't quite so amused, so now I've fixed that too, just to keep him happy! And on to the next job, or not as the case turned out. Sunday morning dawned with a biblical rainstorm which necessitated a delay to the planned jobs list. Never one to sit around doing nothing though, I took the opportunity to swap the rim and hub (which is just about everything) on the back wheel of my work bike. I can't really complain as it's been on there for a couple of years of daily abuse, and it's surprising how quickly the rims wear due the brake pads rubbing them away. A situation which isn't helped by the road muck and salt being ground into the rim by the brake blocks. It's not one of my favourite jobs I must admit, due to the fiddly nature of trying to get the wheel trued up. But it is one of those rewarding sort of jobs that not only saves a fortune, but normally results in a better wheel than an off the shelf, mass produced item. And at the end of the day, I know as I ride around on it, that I made it and that's reward enough in my book. Wheel done and the rain still teeming down, I cast my eye around for a couple more inside jobs. The washing machine door had slowly sagged over the years to the point that it was almost unusable, so lets have a look at that. It's another poor design, made to the lowest cost and is only a pressed steel piece of junk. I had it off a few years ago and tightened up the pin with a bit of judicious hammer work, which lasted for a good while, but it's slowly got worse again and for the sake of £20, a new hinge was in order. 4 screws (of 2 different types, why would you do that) and that's another job done. Next, the bathroom window handle, which fell apart in the week. Again I suspect that we've had our moneys worth from these windows, which I would guess were probably fitted in the early 1990's, and whilst the bathroom one is top of the list for replacement, there's still a few years of life in it yet. So, cunning plan, I'll swap the broken bathroom handle with the one on the kitchen window that I sealed shut when I redid the kitchen due to it having a big draughty gap at the bottom and never being opened. Except when I actually looked at it, the bathroom is a L/H handle and the kitchen one R/H. Bugger! Not to be outdone, there's a little window in the lounge that never gets opened too, mainly because "The Emma" can't reach it, and it's a bit of a stretch for me, and why open the most difficult one, when there's 5 more that are easier to reach. So I stole that one instead, and at least we can now open the window that we actually use again! Eventually, mid morning, the rain stopped, which signalled time for the next job. More, “Pottering with Peugeots”, and another job that had been on the list for a while. Back in the spring “The Emmas” work steed had been picked up for an advisory on the suspension wishbones and Steering links on it's MOT. So being the kind (AKA tight) soul that I am, I said “I'll fix that for you” and they'd been on my “to do list” ever since. Having done exactly the same job on my “Bangernomics” run around, a few months previously, and identified all the problems, this should be a walk in the park this time! Give me an hour or so then put the kettle on, I said to “The Emma” as I headed for the garage, I'll be back in a bit for a brew and medals! Oh, how wrong could I be. First problem. The Track rod locking nut is totally seized solid. Big spanner, bigger spanner, blowtorch and heat it up, penetrating spray, bigger spanner and extra bit of tube for more leverage, get it even hotter, hit it a bit, get it even hotter, get it red hot and jump on the spanner plus extension bar combination. Oh that's got it! And it just got worse from there. The wishbone fought me every inch of the way, proving an absolute nightmare to get out. Now I know that this is a GTI, with uprated springs etc, but really!
Eventually though, brute force won and I got it out. Now all I needed to do was get the new one in. and that's where it really went wrong, because could I get the new one in, could I F**K! Eventually “The Emma” came to see what all the swearing was about, and did some Googling, just to check that I was doing things right, and confirmed that yes, my approach was spot on, so just put he new one in Mr P! Between us, we wiggled, we jiggled, we hit it, we levered it, we hit it some more, we stood and stared at it, we swore at it, we got a bigger lever, which “The Emma” jumped on until it bent, and then we gave up, and with a lot more swearing, levering, hitting and brute force, fitted the old one so at least we could move the stupid thing and went and had a beer! “The Emma” said that she'd just take it to the garage and get them to fix it, but that doesn't sit right with me. For a starters, allegedly I'm a highly skilled and well trained Aircraft engineer, with 30 years of spanner wielding experience. So swapping a bit of metal on a car shouldn't be too much of a problem. Secondly, I'm a stubborn old so and so and I'm not going to be beaten. But, most importantly, I'm a tightwad, who having been let down a million times over the years by so called tradesmen would rather do the job myself if at all possible. So I did what I do best and carried out a bit more research (also known as spending a couple of hours with Mr Google), and eventually, having watched a 100 “how to” videos, and reviewed a thousand websites, which all said to do just what we had tried previously, I stumbled across a random site which said. “Don't do that, it doesn't work, do this”! Which handily confirmed what I'd said to “The Emma” we needed to do before, but had been too tired, confused and stupid to actually do. So roll on this weekend and a bit of spare time. Get it jacked back up, fiddle around for ten minutes getting things set up as per my new advice, and what do you know, bish bash bosh, it's a walk in the park. Ok, Ok, it was still a bit of a struggle but an achievable struggle and not impossible. One side done and onto the next, where the same process proved just as effective, and I would have had it back together in short shrift, except it took me a while to work out that for some reason we had 2 right hand steering arms fitted, instead of a Left and Right as we should have (see my earlier point regarding tradesmen). Job done though and another few pence saved by doing it myself and a bit more knowledge locked away for future use. My wrists might hurt, my knees might be a bit sore, but at least I can sit here and say “I fixed that” and that's something that gives me immense pleasure! After my easy weekend last weekend I suppose it's about time I got back into the swing of things. But first. As I've just mentioned, I had an easy weekend last week which is why there's no blog post. We (that's "The Emma" and I), went into London for a reunion on Friday night, which resulted in a lazy Saturday, although I did sort the front garden out ready for the winter and got up the allotment for a couple of hours in the afternoon. Sunday wasn't much more productive either, a short leg stretching run in the morning and an afternoon of pottering around, got lots of little jobs done, but doesn't exactly make for interesting reading on the blog front. So, best I make amends, and I think I might have managed to do just that. For reasons known only to those above me, I had to go to RAF Cosford for a seminar this week. Which I can assure you is exactly as dull as it sounds, if not even more so! But, never being one to turn down an opportunity, that gave me the chance to get a few running and cycling miles in somewhere else, and what's not to like about that. Taking full advantage of the lunchtime seminar start on Tuesday, I escaped with the van after work on Monday and found myself a nice quiet little spot, right on the Shropshire Union Canal for the night, leaving me perfectly positioned for a nice run in the morning, before certain boredom in the afternoon. Up early, I was out on the towpath for 08:00, and with fresh legs for a change, courtesy of my easy weekend it was a magical few miles. The low autumn sun shining from a cloudless blue sky glinted from the canal, adding to the picture perfect reflections of the bank side trees, all of which are just starting to gain their autumn colours. A Heron, stood perfectly still in the shallows took flight as I passed, flapping effortlessly into the sky, before alighting safely a few meters further down on the opposite bank and returning to its search for breakfast. Colourful canal boats, moored at the bank side with smoke rising lazily from their chimneys as the occupants began their own morning routines, added a splash of garish colour to the morning, accompanied by the occasional smell of frying bacon as I passed. The towpath made for easy running in the chilly early morning air and the miles passed easily. 2,3,4 miles came and went without thought, and I could have happily carried on forever, but work still called and at the 5 mile point I turned around to retrace my steps. The early morning dew still hung heavily from the bank side vegetation, but the autumn sun still had some strength to it and with the sun now in my face it wasn't long before I had to stop and start shedding layers, hat and gloves gone, the sun feeling magical on my face, there won't be many more of these mornings this year so I was determined to make the most of it. A few boats were on the move by now, and as I made my way back towards the van the gentle chug of their engines accompanied my footsteps as we passed like ships in the night with a cheery wave. Like most things though, the best things can't last forever and before I knew it, I was back at the van, with just enough time for a brew and a good stretch before having to rush off to my seminar. What a way to start your day though. Not only had I missed all the traffic by travelling Monday night, but I'd had a brilliant run somewhere new too. Now that's a real result in my book. Carrying on the taking advantage theme, a Seminar finish on Thursday lunchtime left plenty of time for more of the same, and after a leisurely lunch I headed over to The Wrekin for a few hilly miles. With the sun putting in the odd appearance through the broken cloud cover, it was still pleasantly warm for the time of year, and working hard to scale the 1335 Ft hill, I soon had a good sweat on. It was more than worth the effort though, with far reaching views into Wales to the West and back towards Birmingham to the East. Up one side, down the other, and back over again, with a few extra miles though the woods in the afternoon sun for good measure, saw another 8 miles added to the years total, and gave my legs, which had been sat cramped in an uncomfortable seat for the last couple of days a good stretch too. As I said earlier, if I've got to travel I'm going to make the most of the opportunity and I certainly wouldn't have had the chance to do either of this weeks runs in normal circumstances. If I'm going to take advantage of an opportunity, I might as well do it properly and really kick the arse out of it though, and to that end, not only did I take my running kit with me, but having a purpose designed and built camper van, I took my bike with me too. So, staying "up North" and with work wrapped up for the week (that's the joy of the odd working from home / remote working opportunity), Friday afternoon I whipped the bike out from the van, saddled up and headed towards Wales for a few hilly miles, and I wasn't disappointed. A couple of hours in the saddle saw me in Llangollen, home of the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct, courtesy of that genius of engineering Thomas Telford, but more importantly in this case, the ideal place to pick up the start of the Horseshoe Pass. The Horseshoe Pass more than lived up to its billing too, snaking endlessly skywards, steep enough to push you out of your comfort zone, whilst still being achievable enough to make you want to keep going, and the views, both on the way up and from the top, are enough to instantly make you forget any suffering that might be involved in getting up there. The real highlight of the day though was the ride back to Llangollen on the other side of the valley. Starting with a descent so steep and so long that I feared I might have to jump from the bike as despite all my efforts to keep the speed under control it just wasn't happening. Feet unclipped ready to jump, brakes applied as hard as I could muster and still the speed crept up. Eventually a farm track, rising instantly as steeply as I had been descending, proved my saviour, and as I finally ground to a halt, worries about being engulfed in a push bike fire as smoke poured from the brake blocks, suddenly became a real and unusual concern. I can categorically state that I've never seen that before, or tried so hard to control my speed without success on a down hill! Scary bit conquered and heart back in my ribcage, the road rolled up hill and down dale for quite some time. Each new ascent or twist in the winding road opening out to reveal a new vista, each more stunning than the last. Smooth tarmac, no traffic, stunning views and the sun putting in an appearance, it doesn't get any better than that and I was in my element. It couldn't last forever though and all too soon I was back in Llangollen, but not before one final treat with a stunning view of the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct to round off a stunning afternoons riding. All that remained was the not inconsiderable task of getting back to the van, and I'm quite happy to admit that that was a hard few miles on what where by this point, tired legs. Eventually though, with lights ablaze, and in the midst of a heavy rain shower, I arrived back at the van. Tired, hungry, damp, but happy. I said it before and I'll say it again. Taking advantage of being somewhere different opened out a whole new adventure yet again. Yes, I could have legged it straight back home as soon as my seminar was done, but look at what I'd have missed out on! Right, one more then I really need to go home. I'm pretty sure that I've said that on more than one occasion, but not normally in relation to playing bikes! The weather forecast for Friday night into Saturday wasn't good, with heavy rain due overnight, but it was supposed to be clearing in the morning to be replaced with strong winds and blue skies. And they were pretty much spot on too. I heard the rain beating on the van roof in the night, but by the time I got out on the bike at 07:30 the worst had passed and it was just drizzling and by 09:00 the sun had indeed come out, to be joined by a howling gale. Nice! Feeling a bit delicate from Fridays efforts and still needing to head back towards home at some point, I only had a short day planned with an eye towards heading at least some of the way back home in the evening, and to that end I headed out from my overnight spot towards Ironbridge, planning on getting to see that marvel of the industrial revolution whilst I was up that way. It was worth the effort too, as its a fascinating bit of engineering, all iron construction, yet put together with the jointing techniques which would have been familiar to the craftsman of the day and are still used in every day woodworking now. Dovetails, Mortices and Tenons and Slotted Keyways seamlessly hold the whole thing together and have obviously stood the test of time. Maybe we could still learn a thing or too from those pioneers? The other thing that caught my attention on the way through the Ironbridge Gorge, not including the change in river level since the 1700's when it was navigable for the cargo ships of the day, yet now appears to be only a couple of feet deep at this point (and we wonder why places downstream are now prone to flooding) was the ruins of the Bedlam Blast Furnaces at Coalbrookdale. Disappointingly, despite being a scheduled historical monument, most of the view of this piece of history is now obscured by a car park! However, the sense of how this place once was is captured nicely in the painting "Coalbrookdale by Night" by Philip James de Loutherbourg and comparing then for now, it just goes to show how, given time, the natural environment can recover from the damage we as humans seem so intent on causing. Anyway, back on track. Having crossed the river Seven by way of the famous bridge, the climb out of the valley was a bit of a stinger. Not only was it stupidly steep at the start but it then dragged on for what seemed like forever. Something that became a common theme for the first part of the morning as I made my way towards Much Wenlock and along Wenlock Edge before dropping off onto the flatter roads towards Shrewsbury in the late morning to loop back to the van in time for a late lunch.
Two good rides on new roads, an opportunity to see a few of this country's historical remnants which I'd never seen before, an amazing run along the Shropshire Union Canal, which again was a new one for me and a cheeky jaunt up The Wrekin, with it's amazing views over the surrounding landscape. Not bad for an enforced work seminar even if I do say so myself, and so much better than just spending 7 hours driving the round trip on the motorway and seeing nothing. Life's all about making the most of the opportunities which come our way, and I hope that you'll agree that in this case, I certainly did just that! Something a bit different this week. I’ve been road running and not just any old road running. The London marathon no less! Now, before I start, let’s just clarify the fact that I hate running on the road. It’s boring, there’s nothing to look at, it hurts your feet, and any big marathon is just an exercise in battling your way around trying past people that are going slower or faster than you are, whilst trying to avoid the curbs, roundabouts, speed bumps and millions of other things that litter our roads. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, running on the road is the last thing that I every really want to do, and having run a couple of big city marathons before (Brighton and Manchester) it wasn’t something that I had any desire to do again, and London, being the biggest of the lot held no appeal at all. For some reason which now totally escapes my mind, I applied for a ballot place in 2021 and didn’t get in. No loss, by the time it came around I’d remembered that I didn’t actually want to do it anyway. And then, and I still don’t know why, I reapplied for another ballot place for this year, and promptly forgot all about it. Fast forward 6 months and the e mail dropped into my inbox saying that my application had been successful, and I was in with a rare as hens teeth ballot place. Sitting on the sofa with “The Emma” when I read that e mail, she obviously questioned what I was ranting about, and continued to question my sanity when I said, “I’ve got a place for the London Marathon that I didn’t really want, so now I’ve got to go and run a marathon that I don’t really want to do”. I think she might have muttered something about me being an idiot in response to that, which isn’t unusual, and we both promptly forgot about it, putting it to the bottom of the pile of things to do that were ages away at the time. Fast forward a few months, and having paid for my Marathon entry ages before, I suddenly remembered that I needed to be at the Excel centre in London on the Saturday to pick up my race number, (I don’t know what’s wrong with the post either, but that’s one of the things that put me off ever doing the Brighton marathon again too). Needing to be in central London early on Sunday morning too, It would be too early to get the train, so I suppose I had better get a hotel for the night at great expense. Roll forward a few more months and I suddenly discover that the sodding train drivers are going to be on strike on the Saturday, so now I can’t get to London on the Saturday to pick up my number either. Que a massive sense of humour failure and no other option but to arrange another hotel in London for the Friday night, so I can get the train in on Friday, change hotels and pick up my number on Saturday and actually be there for the Sunday. And you’re wondering why I didn’t really want to do this in the first place? Anyway, moving on another few weeks and I’ve got a hotel for the Friday, a different one for the Saturday, I’m going to have to buy 2 one way train tickets, take half a dozen tube trains and suffer 2 days in London with only the clothes I’m stood up in, as I’ve either got to carry everything round the Marathon or fit it in to the small bag that you can hand in at the start and collect at the finish, but I’m ready to go. Except I’m not, as I’ve left my running trainers at work! Now I could use one of the old pairs that are knocking around at home, and if it was off road that’s exactly what I’d do. But 26 miles on the road is pretty hard on your feet. I could just go back to work and get them, or I could just use this brand-new pair that’s in the cupboard, ready for just such an eventuality. “The Emma” cautioned me against this idea. But I’ve run marathons in new shoes before with no problems, and anyway, I’d be slogging around London Friday and Saturday which should break them in nicely, so I did what I do best, and just ignored her. “The Emma” kindly dropped me off at the train station on Friday afternoon and I got into London with no problems (apart for being a day early), changed trains a few times to get as close to my hotel as possible and was ceremoniously dumped onto the pavement a couple of miles away from my accommodation in the middle of a downpour! Que a 2 mile walk in my now wet, new trainers, which instantly proceeded to rub a big old blister onto the back of my right heel! And you’re still wondering why I had no desire to run another city marathon? Anyway, having been kept awake most of the night by the constant flow of police car sirens outside my hotel window and my room neighbours having a massive barney in the middle of the night, I was up early! Being up early, I thought that I might as well do a bit of sightseeing and elected to walk from Lewisham to the Excel to pick up my number. It was quite a nice walk too. I took in the Cutty Sark, the foot tunnel under the Thames, Canary Wharf, stopped and got some plasters for my heels which were unsurprisingly a bit sore, had a look at the Thames, wandered around some random streets, had some lunch sat on a picnic bench and eventually got to the Excel to collect my number just after mid-day, which turned out to be a far smoother affair than expected. Despite the thousands of other people milling around and having to walk through the endless Expo stalls, each extolling the values of their latest wonder socks or running shoes, to get to the exit, I was in and out again in less than 30 minutes. Which left plenty of time to walk the couple of miles to find a supermarket to grab some bits for my tea and some milk etc, before walking the couple of miles back to my new overnight accommodation. Endless wandering done, I settled down for the evening in my salubrious hotel, made a brew and pulled my new trainers off, which were accompanied by half my right heel! Bugger! Well at least they’re well broken in now, I’ll just have to bandage up my heels and man up tomorrow! I’m hoping you might be getting the idea of why I don’t like city marathons by now. I will admit that Saturday’s budget hotel was far nicer and quieter than Fridays and I had a pretty good night’s sleep and was even awake before the alarm went off, which was nice. A good breakfast, an extra brew, plenty of plasters and tape on my heels, the Right one of which was missing most of its skin and prepared to scream as I pulled my running shoes back on ready for the day’s adventures. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as I expected and a trial jog on the way to the tube station proved that although my Right heel (the one with most of the skin missing) was a bit sore, my trainers had indeed, broken in well, and were holding firmly enough around the sore bits to stop then really hurting. Maybe the day wasn’t going to be as bad as expected after all. The tube journey was pain free and arriving at Greenwich I joined the throngs of people making their way towards the start areas. Correct start area identified, security check of my bags carried out, correct baggage lorry identified, and bag handed in. This was brilliant, smoothly organised, hassle free and easy! That left me with plenty of time for a pre-race wee and 45 minutes to chill out and take in the sights of thousands of other runners each going about their pre-race preparations, before making my way to my allocated start pen at the appointed time. Penned up with the others in my allocated group, we had a few minutes delay before being smoothly ushered as a group down to the start line, where we were again held for the few minutes, until the group in front had departed and our allocated time came. Now I was really impressed, that’s how a big marathon start should be handled! Bang on time, we were off, slowly at first, but by the time I reached the actual start line I was moving at pace. Start my watch as I cross the line, glance at those around me, start thinking “I wish I’d had another wee before setting off” and were away, along with the thousands of others. Some more clever organisation had different start groups heading in different directions for the first mile or so, further reducing the numbers trying to find position on the road and reducing the numbers in one place. And by the time the different groups converged we’d had plenty of time to spread out a bit. Approaching from different directions the streams of runners seamlessly joined to become one massive snake of people, all heading in the same direction, all with one purpose of mind. Getting to the finish. I’d been determined from the start not to push too hard on this one, not only is the endless overtaking and jockeying for position tiring, but I was only likely to do this once, so I might as well enjoy it, as opposed to pushing hard and struggling towards the end. My easy pace still seemed fast compared to those around me though, and for the duration of the run I found myself constantly jostling for space to get past those in front, whilst endlessly moving from one side of the road to the other as gaps opened around me which I could slot into. There’s not really a great deal to say about the run itself which I haven’t already talked endlessly about elsewhere. The big thing that stands out though is the incredible spectator support at the roadside. In the popular touristy destinations, the crowds were ten deep, all shouting their encouragement and cheering everyone on, creating a cacophony of noise which was almost deafening at times, and even in the less popular spots there were still plenty of people at the roadside offering their support. Endless support, constant cheering, and the camaraderie of shared suffering with my fellow runners made the miles ticks seamlessly along and before I knew it I was working my way along the Embankment, heading into central London and the finish on the Mall. The closer we got to the finish the louder the cheering from the thousands thronging the roadside became, each shouting themselves hoarse in an effort to spur on those that were clearly flagging by this point. Lifted by the roar of the crowds, one final push saw me and the constant stream of runners by my side through the finish line to yet more raucous cheering. Over the timing mat, stop my watch and slow to a walk, to be greeted by a volunteer eager to hang a finishers medal around my neck and then slowly make my way with the other thousands to the correct baggage truck, which had made its way from the start to the finish whilst we had been running, to be seamlessly reunited with my bags and some dry (although not particularly clean) clothes. Heading back towards Waterloo for my train home in the afternoon sun, it was impossible not to be impressed and moved by the streams of competitors still heading towards the start, most still running, some reduced to a walk, which is understandable considering that they had covered 25 miles by that point, but all still smiling, and all still cheered on by the massive crowds still lining the route. Finally getting home, late in the afternoon, after another massive train related mess around (no trains to Basingstoke from Waterloo, and no you can’t use that ticket via Reading!) with my feet sore from pounding the tarmac for mile after mile I swore to “The Emma” that I’m never going to do another big road marathon. It’s too expensive, too much of a mess around, too painful on the feet and even with the best support in the world, the routes are dull. Why run on the road when I can be out in the hills with endless view’s, soft grass under my feet, and freedom? But you know what. Despite my expectations, it was a brilliant day out, the crowds, the camaraderie out on the course, the excitement of my fellow runners on the train to the start in the morning, many of whom were running their first Marathon, and the atmosphere at the finish as those same runners crossed the line to a warm welcome with a sense of achievement at an outstanding endeavour and the sense of relief at having finally made it to the end more than made up for any dull bits. In fact, despite trying my hardest to find fault, I can’t. The whole event was superbly organised, slickly run, and outstanding in every way. Getting 40,000 runners through the start and finish and keeping them safe and supplied with water whilst out on the route is quite some undertaking and it couldn’t have been better managed. Brilliant or not, I’m still standing by my pledge not to run another road marathon, it hurts too much and it’s bloody boring. Although I might have accidentally entered the ballot for next year’s run yesterday, just don’t tell “The Emma”!
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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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