Sometimes I sit down with my laptop in front of me and the words just flow. Other times, I sit here staring at the screen and there's just nothing to say. It's not that I've been doing nothing. I'm always up to something, it just seems like I don't know what to write about. I suppose that's a bit like motivation, some day's I get up raring to go and can't wait to get out of the door on my next adventure. Other days, "Meh"!, let's just have another brew and see what happens. Saturday was a bit like that. I've been out in the van all weekend, not that I had much reason to be out on Friday night except for the small matter of a Marathon on Sunday, but as far as I'm concerned, if your traveling for a Marathon on Sunday then you might as well make a weekend of it, pack the bike too and get a bit of riding in somewhere new to make the trip worthwhile. If I can self propel myself for more miles than I drive this year, then I'll be a pretty happy man. Although that's going to be a pretty big ask as I do seem to get around a bit! So I'm taking every advantage I can to get out and about. Anyway, digressions aside, after a good nights sleep Friday night, Saturday dawned frosty, cold and clear, perfect cycling weather, despite the chilly fingers. But you know, I just wasn't feeling it. From the off I was clock watching, ticking down the time and miles, missing out on the world passing under my wheels and the beauty all around me. Just going through the motions. I still tapped out 45 miles, which I guess is 45 miles more than most of the population. I still travelled down a few roads that I'd never been down before, saw a few places that I wouldn't have been to otherwise, and held my breath waiting for my impending death, when some dozy driver decided that my life was less important than their coffee or whatever they were doing, which meant they weren't looking where they were going, ending in a screech of tyres as they slammed their brakes on to avoid going into the back of me when they finally looked up! But I wasn't having fun, so I slunk back to the van for a brew and some soup for lunch and re-evaluated my options. It was still far to early to just sit around, so I dug my walking boots out, pulled on some warmer clothes and went for a mooch around. And you know what. Despite the chilling wind that had picked up during the morning, I had a really good afternoon. I plodded sedately up the river bank with the incoming tide, I stopped and looked at an old railway bridge and admired the skill that went into it's construction (all riveted, none of that welding lark), I watched some birds going about their business, I said hello to some cows and sheep braving the growing gale, and I spent an interesting hour investigating some castle ruins and looking around a church yard. Nothing exciting, nothing particularly taxing or exhilarating, but a great afternoon out in the fresh air. And as I set off later, for the final few miles down to my night stop, I did so feeling refreshed, content and happy. I've said it before, but I don't know why I don't do more walking. The slower pace is good for the sole, you see things that you miss on the bike, or running, where it's head down, must get to my destination. But more importantly, it gives you time to think. And as I'd been plodding along on Saturday afternoon, I'd spent a bit of time pondering what's become a bit of a reoccurring theme for me at the moment; "If you miss things when your running and cycling because the pace is to fast to take it all in. What on earth do we miss, when were tearing around in our tin cans"? Someone asked me the other day at work, what I got out of cycling or running to work in the cold and the dark. Arriving with fingers that are so cold I can't get the door unlocked, or feet that hurt from the 10 mile run in, and having to get up at stupid O'clock to do so. Having thought about it for a few seconds, I thought of the beautiful sunrises on the cold clear mornings, I thought about the temperature changes that you feel on your face, as your climb and descend along the country lanes. I thought about the Snowdrops pushing their heads through the still frozen ground to bring the first signs of spring, along with the Catkins in the trees. I thought about the Owl, gliding silently alongside, caught momentarily in the glint of my head torch and the Deer returning from their nights foraging in the early morning summer dawn. I thought about the time to reflect on the day and the chance to clear my head of everything work related before I get home that those precious hours on the bike, or foot, give me every day. And I thought about the sense of satisfaction that just being able to do so brings me, knowing that no matter what happens, I can probably get by and survive. Unrelated to the original question, I thought of the Robin and Blackbird, waiting patiently for the grubs to be turned up when digging on the allotment, the taste of freshly picked tomatoes and the dollop of home made jam that goes into my porridge every day. I thought of the sense of freedom and satisfaction that comes with sitting in the van, listening to the rain on the roof and the wind lashing the sides, safe in the knowledge that "I made this". I thought about coming home, cold, wet, tired, or all 3, and "The Emma" putting the kettle on, whilst watching patiently as I try to get my muddy shoes off with frozen fingers, all the time dripping muddy water onto the clean kitchen floor. And I thought about my diary, with most weekends filled with some outing, bike ride or run, taking me to pastures new, for new experiences and adventures. But when all you ever do is drive from door to door and moan that you can't park right out side the office, your not likely to understand any of that. So I just shrugged, said "I enjoy it" and walked away. At the end of the day, you either get it, or you don't. And as someone else once said "If you've got to ask the question, then you probably wont understand the answer"! Hmmm, maybe I did have something to talk about this weekend after all. It's surprising what comes out when you get started isn't it! Having rambled on enough already, I suppose I had better get onto the weekends main event and the whole purpose of being out in the first place, the Dark Star River Marathon. A 28 mile, out and back course along the banks of the River Adur and parts of the Downs Link Path. Billed as normally being a mud fest, but this year we've not had any real rain for all of January, so to make up for a lack of mud, the weather gods helpfully provided a full on gale and some interesting rain to make up for it. After weeks of still calm conditions the forecast had looked increasingly worse as the week had gone on, although when I looked mid week it looked like being windy with a band of rain moving through overnight, but dry during the day. As per usual though, by the time I looked again as I went to bed on Saturday night, the expected rain had slipped to 09:00, right in line with our start time! Oh well, they're not always right, are they? Well, in this case it turns out they were, as when I got up, not only was it blowing a real hooly, but the sky's were dark and menacing and by the time I lined up with the hundred or so other brave souls at the start line, we were struggling to stand up in the wind and looked certain of a good drenching. And we weren't to be disappointed, as within 10 minutes of setting off the rain was being thrown horizontally with some force into the side of my face. Nice! Following a river makes for some flat, fast running, and despite the wind doing it's best to push us back into the sea, today was no exception, with a small group quickly forming off the front at a blistering pace, whilst us mere mortals, struggled on behind, fighting the wind at every step. luckily though the rain didn't linger too long and by the time I'd got to the 7 mile point it had petered out, just leaving the wind to deal with. A slippery, muddy section between miles 8/9 made things a bit more interesting for a while as we progressed up river, but posed no real problems and it wasn't long until we picked up the dry gravel bed of the Downs Link path for the final few miles to the 14 mile checkpoint and the turnaround point. Being an out and back course gave me the chance to see where I was in the field and the lead runners came past in the other direction a good mile or so in front of me. Surprisingly though there were less people on front of me than I'd thought, which is always good for morale. Having planned a quick stop at the turn to take my rain jacket off and catch my breath, I quickly revaluated that to "keep pushing and loose the jacket on the run", there's no point in loosing time and places just for the sake of it. Heading back the other way, gave me the chance to see those behind and offer a few words of encouragement as we passed too. That's the other beauty of an out and back, you get to see those working hard behind you, something that you miss out on when your doing a loop. Coming South the wind was brutal at times, almost stopping you dead in your tracks when it was face on, and doing it's best to trip you, incessantly blowing your feet into each other when it was from the side. Staying upright the miles continued to pass though, constantly accompanied by the roar of the wind in my ears. At mile 18 I caught the runner in front, giving the first signs that whilst I was starting to feel the miles so to was everyone else. Pushing on, I could see the next man in front and slowly, almost imperceptibly, the gap was closing. Each time I looked up he was slightly closer, until eventually at mile 21 I finally caught him and slowly inched out a small gap. A gap which continued to slowly grow, and I came into the final checkpoint sufficiently ahead that I'd left before he arrived. Just 5 more long miles to go then, and although I could see the runners in front, there was no way that I was going to be able to close the gap to them too. A quick glance behind at a bend in the river showed that my chaser wasn't in sight, so no real worries there, just settle down, hold a steady pace for the last few miles and push it home.
A last slippery, muddy stretch and then onto the concrete path for the final mile, and across the line in 3:53:02. That's not bad going for 28 off road miles into a howling gale I don't think. In fact it was good enough for a top ten finish, so not bad at all. Certainly not my favourite route, I think a hiller course suits me better, but fun none the less and another great day out to add to the memory banks. Made all the better in my opinion by the interesting weather!
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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
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