Right then running fans, it's been a little while since I've done any decent running, so it's about time to break that dry spell, and what better way to do it that, than with the Test Way Ultra. 40 Miles of downhill fun, from just shy of the Highest Point in Hampshire, down to the sea.
Having walked the Test Way back in the summer of 2018 over a glorious summer weekend, I'd got fond memories of the route and I'd been looking forward to this one ever since I signed up for it back in the spring. As I said at the start, it's a bit unusual, as it's got more downhill than up, and when it's not going down it's pretty much flat, but more of that later. Oh, and unusually for me, it's a point to point run, which means the logistical nightmare of getting back to the start to collect the van, although in this case I'd signed up for the well organised bus trip back from the finish at the end of the day. I just needed to get to the finish to take advantage!
A night out in the van, saw me ready and raring to go for the 08:30 start, and as I stood on the start line with the 60 other like minded souls, watching the clock slowly tick down, it was with that sense of excitement and trepidation that comes with a big undertaking. Nervous excitement, is probably the best word to describe it, a real desire to get things underway, coupled by the feeling of "what the hell am I doing here" and "can I just turn around and go home now"?
The start of an Ultra seems to be a bit different to a normal race. Normally everyone's trying to get to the front and away fast, even those that have no reason to be at the front seem to find it necessary. There's been plenty of occasions that I've lined up at the start of a big event where your often split into groups based on predicted finish times and then spent the first few miles trying to get past people that have no hope of ever running at the pace they've lined up with. Why do it, It's just soul destroying having people steaming past you like your stood still! The longer the event, the less that seems to happen though, and today proved no different, the man with the big watch said go, and with a few shrugged shoulders, a bit of looking at each other in the hope that someone else would go first, we were off. Well almost. "I'm not going first". Well someone's got too or we'll just stand here all day looking at each other, and so it continues until eventually some brave soul takes the bull by the horns and were all away! Not only were we off, but having said it's mostly downhill, we were straight up what was to be the steepest climb of the day. Heart rate from zero to 160 in 30 seconds is never much fun, but things soon settled down as we crested the hill and started spreading out a bit, and the view from the top, over the surrounding countryside more than made up for the initial effort.
As often seems to be the case, it took a few miles for my legs to start coming good and my pace to settle down, but by the first checkpoint I'd moved up through the field and was sitting in 3rd place, closely followed by 4th and 5th and being chased hard. 1st and second were long gone, more of which I'll get too later, but even at this early stage I wasn't holding much hope of catching them. It looked then like my race was going to be for 3rd, if I could just hold on, and there was a lot of holding on still to do. 30 more miles of it to be precise!
Climbing out of St Mary Bourne, I took advantage of the uphill to strip off my extra layers and gloves, it being considerably warmer than I'd expected, and to be honest I'm glad I did, as shorts and a long sleeve top was more than warm enough for the conditions. I find it hard enough to get enough fluids on board on a long run as it is, without making the situation worse by overheating and sweating more than I can take in. What is it they say? Dress for the 3rd mile, when you'll have warmed up, not the first? By the half Marathon mark (13 miles) I'd managed to open up a bit of a lead on the following group and was starting to enjoy myself. Once you've got a bit of a gap, you can almost relax, safe in the knowledge that those chasing are going to have to cover the extra ground before they even think about getting past, and by the time I got to the second checkpoint at Wherwell, I'd got enough of a lead over my pursuers to have left the checkpoint before they arrived, not that I hung around, only stopping for long enough to fill my water bladder and get on my way. Wherwell, signifies the first crossing of the River Test, which becomes your companion on and off for the remainder of the route, as I suppose it should. After all, the whole trails named after it, so I suppose it should feature quite prominently. It also signifies the end of the downhill and the start of the flatter terrain. In fact a couple of miles after Wherwell you pick up an old disused railway line (Sprat and Winkle Line) and the real slog fest begins. Personally, I find the flat terrain of disused railway lines and Canal towpaths a real mental struggle, with disused railway lines being top of the list. They're pretty much pan flat, so there's no opportunity to use different muscle groups. Being flat they're fast, so there's no excuse to have a cheeky little walk, like there is when things go uphill and worst of all, they tend to be tree lined with embankments either side and dead straight so there's nothing to occupy your mind. Just a long, straight, tree lined corridor, that seems to drag on for ever, and today was no exception. Picking up the Railway a few miles before Stockbridge it stretched interminably on until Mottisfont, a good 8 or 9 miles away and just seemed to go on and on. Eventually though, with nearly 30 miles under my belt I struggled into the next checkpoint for another refill of the water and a quick look behind to see if my pursuers were in sight. Luckily not, and I was straight off again and into a bit more varied terrain and the chance to stretch out muscles that hadn't been used for the last hour or so. There's a few wooded sections in the next few miles and dancing around the tree roots and muddy puddles, whilst admiring the autumn colours of the leaves piled underfoot, made a nice distraction after the endless railway line. The 30 mile mark, came and went in under 4:30 which isn't bad going and despite my legs really starting to feel the miles I was still maintaining a reasonable pace. I just needed to keep going and I should be good for a finish.
At the 35 mile mark, I started counting down the miles, having avoided doing so up to this point. As soon as I start counting down, my brain seems to think it's job done, but with miles still to go that's not the case and I need to focus. Coming up to what I had as mile 38 the final checkpoint hove into view. For some reason I'd not realised this one was there, thinking that the 30 mile point was the final checkpoint and it threw me a bit.
It threw me even more when the guys manning the checkpoint cheerfully announced that it was only 4 miles to go. 4 miles? I'd got in my head that it was only 2, aaarrrggghhh! Oh' well, nothing for it but to knuckle down and keep plodding on as fast as I can. By mile 40 I was really starting to struggle to maintain focus, but eventually, coming up to the 41 mile point I started picking up the marker flags that signified that last few meters. A few directions from a marshal manning a road crossing and the final run in to the finish. 6:08:44 got me third place, with the winner, who I later found out holds the record for running from Lands End to JOG, having had time to get changed, have something to eat and be on his way home by the time I got there, and the guy in second's not to shabby either, having been the first Brit home in the Spartathlon race. They're both way out of my league, and boy am I glad that I didn't try to chase them down at the start.
I'm happy with that though, 3rd place from a field of 61 and in a pretty respectable time too. Not only a good result, but a great day out too, along a lovely course, at a well organised and well supported event. What's not to like about that, and with 4000 calories burned off during the day, the chance for an extra slice of cake and chocky biscuit too!
I spotted this projected on to the side of a church when I was out and about at the weekend and thought it quite poignant too.
It's always worth remembering that without the sacrifice of others we might not have the freedom that we enjoy today!
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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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