Well, we seem to have survived the big freeze last week and now it’s back to situation normal. I’m not sure what’s worse though. Freezing my bits off despite wearing all my clothes all of the time, or nearly being blown off the face of the planet during my cycle commute this week, whilst trying to dodge the massive puddles which have reappeared.
Last weeks cold temperatures were a bit extreme. I ran the ten miles into work on Friday morning and it was cold enough that the water in my camelback had frozen by the time I got there, which is pretty extreme. (Especially as it’s right next to my body, with the associated heat that gives off whilst running). It’s all part of the fun though, and the variety adds to the experience. The sudden temperature change between Friday / Saturday and Sunday morning caught me out a bit this week though as we’ll see in a minute. Sunday saw a long-awaited return to some proper running, in the form of The Winter Tanners 30 mile Ultramarathon. It’s been a long, often depressing, slog, to get back to a position where I thought 30 miles was possible again and what better way to do it than The Winter Tanners . The Winter Tanners is always an excellent day out and the lovely people at Surrey LDWA who put the event on manage to come up with a different route every year, which always showcases some of the best scenery, and walking / running routes in Surrey. Having done this event a couple of times before I had a rough idea of what was to come (2022, 2023) although the route would be new, the organisation was likely to be superb, as was the welcome at the checkpoints, and I wasn’t disappointed. A comfortable night in the van, meant that I was up ready and raring to go for an 08:30 start time, although having gone to bed with the thermometer hovering just above freezing, it seemed a bit strange to wake to rain falling on the van roof, and the feeling that the temperature had climbed somewhat overnight. Getting dressed and sorting my kit out after breakfast it dawned on me that the temperature change may be a bit of a problem. Having packed for the Arctic, I had a down jacket, but no waterproofs with me, and plenty of thermals, but no thin tops. Not an ideal start to the day, but with a bit of ingenuity I managed to gather up enough sensible clothing to cope with the changed conditions and set off hopeful that what I did have would see me through the day.
It didn’t take long to realise that it was actually even warmer than I had first thought, and within the first couple of miles I’d had to stop and discard the jacket that I’d started in, which wasn’t an ideal situation as it wouldn’t fit in my small pack, so it was going to have to be tied around my waist for the day, where it would generally annoy me as it flapped around. You’d think that by now, I’d have learned to prepare for every eventuality, but it would seem not, and in fact, the opposite is probably true as familiarity sets in.
Poor dress choice wasn’t going to stop me having fun though, and I set off at a nice steady pace, planning on just taking the day easy. If I could just get round on my dodgy knee, then that was going to be the result that I was looking for, and if that meant running the first part and then walking the rest, then so be it. But the first few miles passed fairly easily, and I was feeling surprisingly good as the first of the days climbs loomed out of the countryside in front of us. The climb up past Denbies vineyard with its views over Dorking and back towards Box Hill is always a delight and today was no different. It’s a long slog but eminently run-able, and I slowly made my way towards the top at a steady pace, gradually catching up with the walkers and slower runners who had set off ahead of me, passing each with a cheery good morning, and an “enjoy your day” as I made my way slowly past. A checkpoint at the top of the climb ensured that no one had sneaked a shortcut, and then onward along the hilltop towards the pretty church at Ranmore, before dropping off into the woods to make our way towards the first of the day’s proper checkpoints at the 7-mile mark.
The first checkpoint had not long been open when I arrived and there was already a queue of people waiting patiently in line to get their cards scanned as proof of passage in front of me. That’s another joy of these events, because they’re not timed and there’s no results published (just a finished or not) there’s no pushing and shoving to get scanned and on your way as fast as possible, no bad tempers at the delay, no rushing!
It’s all far more civilised, no rush, stand in line and have a chat with the person in front, hold the gate open for them if they’re close enough, have a chat with your fellow runners and walkers on the way round, stop to admire the view if you’re that way inclined. That’s my idea of a good day out, you can keep your results and jostling for position, I’d rather have this any day. A couple of minutes later (not long enough to get cold) I was back on my way. Card scanned, water topped up, and a couple of chocolate digestives in my hand as way of reward for the efforts so far. With only 7 miles down it was going to be a long 10 mile stretch to the next checkpoint across unfamiliar ground, but I was still feeling good, the sun was trying valiantly to make an appearance, and although the wind had a cold edge to it when it caught you in its blustery grasp, I was still having fun.
Steady progress through the morning saw West Horsley come and go, and the dry tracks underfoot saw a marked changed to the same event last year when I seem to remember spending the middle miles wading through flooded fields.
The old airfield at Wisley can as a surprise out of nowhere as the footpath spat us out right into the middle of the old runway, before heading back into the woods on the other side, a different proposition from the days when the airfield was built as a satellite to the aircraft works at Brooklands where they were busy building some of the most iconic aircraft of WW2 and the 1950’s and 60’s (Wellington Bomber, VC10, parts of Concord, Hawk, to name but a few). Another delight awaited just as we approached the next checkpoint too, in the form of a Semaphore tower at Chatley Heath. It’s hard to comprehend in this modern digital age, where communication is almost instant, that less than 200 years ago, this iconic building formed part of a chain of such towers and was used to relay messages via Semaphore from the Admiralty in London down to their ships in harbours around the coast. How the world has changed in such a short time frame.
Maybe I could have sent “The Emma" a message via the semaphore tower to let he know that I was doing ok and with 17 miles down, was now heading back in the right direction. Mid Ultra marathon probably isn’t the best time to stop and learn semaphore though, and at the end of the day, she’s got better things to do than get messages from an idiot that thinks running 30 miles is a good idea. So, I made do with a chat with the nice people at the checkpoint, a sausage roll and a biscuit from the table groaning under the weight of their goodies, and pushed on.
The next few miles were a bit of a slog if I’m honest. The miles seemed to pass slowly, with little of interest, except for a few minutes chatting with a nice man who was running his 100th Ultra and was happy to chat for a while as we plodded along, and, just as interestingly a collection of pretty little bridges carrying farm tracks over the footpath (someone did mention a name for these as we passed but I can’t for the life of me remember what it was).
Despite the miles passing slowly I was progressing, and gradually, 23 miles became 24, which passed on to 25 and the milestone of 26 just before the next checkpoint at Tanners hatch.
The good news was that with only another 4 or 5 miles to go and it was mostly downhill from here, and good news that was too, because the miles were starting to take their toll (or more accurately the lack of miles in the preceding months were taking their toll on unconditioned legs). Sore feet and stiff muscles played a constant reminder over the last few miles, of the miles already covered. But I was still moving well and more importantly I was still running, and my knees were holding up ok. In fact, my pacing strategy had obviously paid off as I was still slowly gaining on, catching, and overtaking plenty of people in front of me, many of whom were coming towards the end of the shorter 20-mile route, whilst I had an extra 10 miles in my legs.
Coming back into the outskirts of Leatherhead all that remained was the last few hundred meters along the road back to the finish, and with tired legs, but happy at the days outcome I scanned back in at 13:50, 5:28 after setting off.
And you know what, five and a half hours for 30 off road miles in the middle of winter is a time that I’m more than happy with (and that compares well with previous efforts). Although, I’m most happy with the fact that after all those months of not running last year, I’ve finally managed another Ultra, something which for a long time I didn’t think was going to be possible. Yes, my legs are sore today and my knees feel a bit tender, but I was straight back on the bike for my normal commute to work on Monday morning, and despite feeling a bit stiff, my knees feel none the worse for Sundays efforts, so fingers crossed, now I’ve “broken my duck”, I can continue getting scores on the doors and my Ultra running career isn’t going to be over with a miserly 62 Marathons. I mean, surely there’s a few more in me yet, and there’s the small matter of the LDWA Punchbowl Marathon in a few weeks’ time. So, watch this space and let’s see what happens over the coming weeks, maybe my running career isn’t quite over yet!
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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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