A bit like your Sunday best, there’s good running and cycling legs and not so good legs. Obviously, you can’t bring your best legs out every day or they wouldn’t be your best legs would they, they would just be legs! So, you hope that you can save your best legs for the big days out and use your other legs for all the training runs and other mundane stuff.
The days when you turn out with your good legs on, tend to be the magical days, when the running and cycling is easy, the miles pass smoothly, and you feel like you could go on for ever. They’re the days when you’re near the front of the pack, when it’s effortless and you’re feeling good. Some days though, your legs don’t feel quite as good. It’s all a bit harder and a bit more of a struggle. The uphill bits bite harder, and it’s a bit trickier to hold your pace and enjoy the moment for what it is. That isn’t a problem though, it’s all part of the game at the end of the day. If every day was easy, it wouldn’t be so rewarding when it does all go right. What's more of a problem, is when your stood at the start of a 40 mile Ultra and you realise that not only have you not got your best legs with you, what you’ve actually got is that old tatty pair that you’ve been saving in the back of the wardrobe for working on the car, or decorating. You know, the pair that’s got a few patches on, the hems are all frayed and faded, and your better half told you some years ago that you’re not allowed to wear out in public anymore (which incidentally is most of the clothes I own). Which is where I found myself Sunday morning as I lined up at the start for Rolys run, a 40-mile jaunt around the South Downs in memory of a local runner and general outdoors type, that is sadly no longer with us. As soon as I got out of bed, I’d known that it was going to be a hard day. My legs felt heavy, stiff and "crampy" from the offset and that’s never a good sign. What was a good sign however, was that the sun was shining. Not what I’d been expecting as I lay awake in the night listening to the rain lashing down on the van roof. A situation that was still ongoing at 06:00, but had somehow miraculously cleared, leaving a bright and dry, if somewhat soggy underfoot, morning, by the time we were ready to go. Normal pre run prep completed (multiple brews, breakfast, number safety pinned to my shorts after having removed the pin from my leg, shoes tied and retied multiple times, pre run wee, and repeat ad infinitum until it’s time to go) and ready for the off at 08:00 sharp after a few nice words from the organiser in memory of her brother (nice touch). As is always the case, I set off too fast, needlessly chasing the person in front, until I realised that A) they were incredibly fast and B) that my legs were already stiff and tired. Luckily, by the time I saw sense I'd only gone half a mile, and remembering that there was still 39.5 miles to go, settled into a steady pace just behind the 3rd place person.
From the off the route took us off road, and almost immediately started a gentle ascent to take us out of Swanmore and into more open countryside, where we picked up sections of the Wayfarers Walk (see blog) which lead us slowly towards our first checkpoint at Lomer farm, where we turned onto the South Downs Way, and the climbing really started in earnest.
From Lomer farm it’s all uphill until Beacon hill, nothing to strenuous and nothing compared to what’s to come, but it’s a steady incline none the less. An incline that’s more than rewarded by the view from the top. I remember to get my head up as I go over the top and take in the view towards Meonstoke which is our next destination, and then it's straight down the steep side.
I’ll happily admit that I’m rubbish at going downhill, but this was treacherous. The path was covered in a thin, slippery, layer of mud over the underlaying slippery chalk, and the grass just off the track was not only at a 45-degree angle but slick with the nights rain. “Slowly, slowly, catchy monkey” as I slithered my way downwards, watching intently as the person just in front came a cropper on the greasy surface, resulting in a wet and muddy backside. No harm done though, and we soon regained the momentum as the path flattened out in the valley floor for the easier run into Meonstoke and the next checkpoint.
Straight through the checkpoint at Meonstoke, I think I’ve still got enough water to see me through to the next one, and I’ve got a couple of hot cross buns in my bag for sustenance, so there’s no need to stop just yet.
From Meonstoke it’s straight back uphill to get over Old Winchester Hill, and then the long climb up to the Sustainability Centre and another checkpoint, where I do stop for water, grab a bit of cake, and have a quick chat to the guys in 3rd and 4th place, which means I’m now in 5th.
The main topic of conversation is the person who’s in first place and is clearly head and shoulders above us mere mortals. Were 18 miles in by this point and the person in first place must be at least 20 minutes ahead of us, followed by the person in second, who’s a good ten minutes behind him. In fact, they’re both on their way back down from the Sustainability Centre before I’ve even started the ascent, now that’s what good legs can do! No time to spend commiserating though, there’s still a long way to go yet and we set off in slow pursuit, knowing that there’s no chance of catching up, but not yet ready to admit defeat (yeah right). The next sections all new to me, I’ve covered the majority of the distance to get this far before on different runs, but from here on is all new, and I’m looking forward to it. Back down the hill and straight on at the bottom, heading towards East Meon where the church steeple is just visible, and the village is bathed in sunshine, as we struggle up the stupidly steep slope to skirt around the village.
A quick chat with a couple of walkers as I make my way towards the next checkpoint and the climb up to Butser Hill, confirms what I already know. The gap between 3rd and 4th is growing steadily (along with the lead of the first placed pair) and whilst I can still see 4th place, I know I’m slowing, and I can’t help but think it won’t be long before I get caught by the person behind.
That thought becomes reality as I start the long climb to regain the high ground on the way back towards the Sustainability Centre, as the first placed lady breezes past me on the lower slopes with a steady pace and a great running style, which makes me look like an overweight rhinoceros as I clomp along like I’m standing still! I’m still moving though, and I can see the man I’ve been chasing getting passed as easily as I was as I make my way into the checkpoint at the Sustainability Centre for the second time. Again, we exchange a few words, as he leaves just as I arrive, and I know that’s the last time I’ll see him today!
No point standing around moping though, and after a brief chat with the lovely marshal manning the checkpoint I push on, heading back the way we came, to climb back over Old Winchester Hill before picking up the disused railway line which now forms the basis of the Meon valley trail for a flat run into the final checkpoint at Meonstoke and a real treat. Christmas cake and mince pies, possibly the best thing ever for piling on loads of calories and energy boosting sugar just when I need it most!
I’ve lost another place between Old Winchester Hill and Meonstoke though. Not that I’m complaining, as the second-place lady came bounding past looking fresh and sprightly, as I struggled across the top of Old Winchester Hill with my head down, feeling sorry for myself! There’s only a few more miles to go though, so I push on as best I can, running the flat and downhill bits and walking as soon as it gets too hard. I think I’m doing OK too as the miles are slowly ticking down and then I come face to face with the traditional sting in the tail, as the trail goes vertically up the side of a valley, climbing so steeply that there are steps cut into the hillside through the mud.
And then it really is all downhill to the end (apart from the uphill bits which clearly aren’t, and just seem to be there to torture my tired legs). One last push and I’m finally finished though, over the line in 7:19:26.
I’m more than happy with that, I knew from the start that it was going to be a hard day out and I wasn’t disappointed on that front. In fact, there were a few times when I thought about calling it a day. But, no matter how dark those thoughts of stopping got, I kept going and got through it. And that’s where the reward comes from, no matter how hard it is, no matter how uncooperative my legs and brain may be, I’m going to face that challenge and come out the other side of it. And I’m glad I did too, because it was a beautiful run through some stunning scenery. The volunteer marshals were superb, friendly and welcoming, the organisation and course marking were beyond reproach, and as for the welcome at the end with a hot brew, a big portion of delicious vegetarian chilli, and all the cake you could eat, well what’s not to like about that! Yes, it’s a pretty challenging route. Yes, my legs and head weren’t in it. And yes, I’ll certainly be back for another go next year. In fact, I can’t wait!
Before I sign off for the week, I don't know if you've noticed but it's been rather wet recently.
In fact, after what seemed like months of endless sunshine, I'd almost got to the point where I'd forgotten what it's like to get rained on. But, that's been well and truly remedied in the last few weeks, as I seem to have got wet almost every day! It's not been too bad so far though. Although it's been wet, until recently its still been very mild for the time of year, and until this weekend I've still been wearing shorts on my cycle commute to work. Like all good things though the warm spell had to come to an end and this weekend marked the end of summer when I dug out my long cycling trousers and thick gloves from the back of the cupboard where they've been languishing, unloved, since the start of May. It's a good job I did too, as leaving work on Monday evening the skies opened and it absolutely threw it down. Not that that's been unusual in the last few weeks, but what was different today, is the wind was also howling in my face and the rain had a real icy cold edge to it. Due to my own stupidity I had the wrong jacket on and it wasn't long before I was soaking wet, my gloves had soaked up a few pints of ice cold rain and my shoes had filled up with cold, wet rain too. In fact I was having a pretty miserable time. Slogging through the rain, into that howling head wind, trying to avoid the razor sharp hedge cutting detritus and general filth that covers the road at this time of year, it wasn't long before I started to get pretty chilly. My fingers were numb, my face stung where the cold rain was being driven into it by howling gale that I was cycling into, and I wasn't having much fun. In fact, by the time I'd got 1/2 way home I was starting to wonder why I ever thought cycling was a good idea. I mean, I could be sat, warm, dry and insulated from the real world, with the radio on in my nice warm car now. Not slogging through the rain freezing my bits off! But then, as I climbed the final hill before I pick up the urban sprawl of Basingstoke, the rain stopped, and as I neared the top the low winter sun broke through the scudding cloud cover and shone brightly for a few seconds. That little glimpse of the winter sun shining bravely through the trees sharply highlighted the now bare tree branches and glinted brightly from the few wet leaves which still clung bravely on, resisting the autumn gale. And those few seconds of sun working it's magic on the beauty of the season were all it took to remind me why I do this and bring a smile back to my face. That sun shining through the trees, those beautiful autumn coloured leaves being blown around by the wind, the cows still grazing in the fields, caring not a jot whether it's raining or not, the crows calling loudly to each other as they head back to roost as the evening draws in, and the million other things I'd miss if I was sat in the car. Yes I might be wet and cold, but it's still got to be better than sitting in the car stuck in traffic. And, when I do get home, feeling refreshed, invigorated and with a smile on my face, they'll be a brew and slice of home made cake waiting for me, and it doesn't get much better than that, rain or not!
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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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