Race to what....

Well that’s it, I’ve run 53 miles in one go.  Race to the Tower - the Broadway Tower in Worcestershire, which (by the way) I still haven’t seen as it was shrouded in mist and just a green and purple haze from the giant lights at it’s feet.

The word is that it’s an amazing achievement, unbelievable, inspirational, epic, awesome - keep coming with the superlatives. I’ve heard them all. 

It’s been a while since I last wrote a blog. Pre-Limassol when I ducked out of the marathon and did the half (which quite frankly was the right decision as I was not impressed by that race). Since then my training has been on and off. I ran Bewl Marathon but, to be honest, I probably didn’t do the required miles for a 50+ ultra. I did do my hill training though - which has turned out to be more useful than I could have imagined! 

I could spend endless words describing the race, the good points, the bad points. The brilliant organisation of Threshold. The joy of seeing friends at the start and on route. The benefits of Run Mummy Run or UKRunchat at events like this. I could....but I won’t. What I will do is thank some people - Lucy, whom I met for the first time at about mile 5 and we passed each other at various points until at half way we had some food and drink together. Then set out for the second half and ended up sticking together. Her walking pace (due to injury) my running pace! We climbed stupid stiles together, laughed together, shared stories of life, dragged each other up endless hills and she even had to suffer my singing a few times. But she was awesome, unbelievable, amazing and inspirational. And didn’t leave me. Even on that last hideous hill when I struggled to motivate myself to the top. Okay so she out sprinted me on the finish line, but hell - I’ll forgive her that. 

Keeley - my wife - who for the first time properly acted as race support. Turning up in places I didn’t expect (so i nearly missed her) and in places i did (even though I was hours late). Saying hello to other friends, offering them all sorts of useful and non-useful items....but still smiling, still waving and cheering all the runners whether she knew them or not. Right until 4 in the morning! 

Jules - who sat up through the day and night watching a tiny blue dot move across a map, ever more slowly as time went on. Sending me messages of support, making me laugh and virtually cheering me to the finish. 

Yep that was my first 50+ ultra. Should I stop there? Should i tell the truth? It was hard and hilly. The equivalent of climbing Snowdon twice (apparently) - over 7000 feet in elevation. Timings slipped early on. Feet started hurting before even pitstop two and at half way my first ever blister had appeared, popped and was being taped up. Another 26.2 meant i slowed to slower than walking pace (next time I’ll learn to walk faster) and i went from an 8 hour marathon to an 11 hour marathon. Vaseline became my new best friend. The dark created challenges I had expected but hadn’t understood. Tiredness and lack of sleep leads to the mind fixating on just reaching the finish. And you cannot underestimate the effect of focusing on one thing and one thing only for 19 hours and 22 minutes. I have a new found respect for those that go further and faster. 

At the finish - as sunlight was beginning to reappear I couldn’t enjoy any of the Threshold hospitality - instead I was suitably sick and whisked away by my amazing wife. Not even able to properly say goodbye and thank you to the equally amazing Lucy! 

There were plenty of mistakes made along the way. Plenty of lessons to learn. Plenty of things to consider - if and when there is a next time. I hear you laugh “of course there is a next time”. But no decision until I come back from holiday. Why? It’s simple really. It all feels a bit ‘meh’. I haven’t celebrated. Tonight was my first drink of alcohol since I finished. People send messages of congratulations and I just feel slightly fraudulent. I’ve joked that perhaps I have PTSD or PTRD....I should feel elated, high - right? The good news is my legs feel great. They felt strong. Still feel strong. My feet and lovely chafing not so much. And that’s it really. I’m disappointed. I didn’t do as I expected. It wasn’t the glorious finish - it wasn’t target 1, 2, 3 or even 20. I joked I had 24 hours and I was only a few hours short of needing them. 

My fear is when I feel this way I like to go back and race again - Beachy being a race in point. But I don’t want to go back to RTTT. I never want to see those hills again. I’d like to go back and visit the Cotswolds - maybe even get to see the tower. But 53 miles of that is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone! Don’t get me wrong, I loved it, I laughed and smiled, chatted and jazz hands. Ate and selfied. It was beautiful and well organised. But it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done and in that it became more than perhaps I knew it could be....meaning reaching the finish could never match that. It could never be the achievement I needed it to be, at least not yet. I’m hopeful over time and reflection, after other races maybe, it will dawn on me what I have done. And I won’t just feel ‘meh’ - I’ll feel proud. 

A trip to the sunny side

This weekend was going to be my 10th marathon, a lovely trip to Limassol - they keep telling me it’s fast and flat, oh and sunny! Which is great. Except it won’t be my 10th marathon. It will still be flat and I hope it will still be sunny, but for the second time in a year I’ve dropped down to half marathon distance. I suppose it’s better than it becoming my 3rd DNS or even my first ever DNF. But I still feel disappointed. Mostly in myself. 

 

Everyone says ‘it’s the right thing to do’ or ‘well done for recognising it’ - but actually if I could have motivated myself to just do a few more training runs then I wouldn’t have found myself here. It was all starting to look good. January and February I was running, Ashford 10k became the first run I did without any walking and then, well then I don’t know what happened. I just stopped again. Technically I was still doing my long runs and if I’d completed my 20 miler in Thanet then I suspect I’d be flying off to Cyprus to run a marathon. But the race was cancelled due to snow, so I lost the enforced test of race conditions and 20 miles. Either way it would have told me if I was marathon ready. But now I’ve just sort of opted out, without really knowing if it was the right thing to do. 

Listen to my head is how I’ve put it. Well that’s actually quite a dangerous thing as frankly lately my head tells me a whole load of crap. Recognising what is actually worth listening to is a skill I’m not exactly mastering. We don’t like to disappoint ourselves and I don’t like to disappoint others. I know, I know - I’m not disappointing anyone, but hell I’ve been going on and on about this bloody race so it feels like somehow I am. Like the judges of social media will bang their invisible gavel and declare me guilty of over reacting, under performing and generally being an arse.....

See I told you I shouldn’t listen to my head! 

The good news is I have lots of races still to come, I’m determined to actually run Salisbury Marathon this year (the first race I dropped out of last year) and Loch Ness in September, oh and the little matter of 52 miles worth of Race to the Tower in June. If I keep telling myself all of that means it’s okay to just kick back, fly to Cyprus, drink cocktails and still run 13.2 miles (without any more than run one per week in months) and actually not only is that okay, it’s amazing. If I keep telling myself that....

I don’t want to find myself quoting Ronan Keating, as then I’ll know I’ve seriously hit rock bottom - yet life IS a rollercoaster. I no longer want to get off, but at times I feel quite a bit sick and I’ve never been a fan of rollercoasters. Turning upside down sucks. I like to stay steady and know where I’m going. I like it’s a small world - annoying song and all. There would have been quite a thrill trying to see if I could run the marathon on Sunday, instead I’m in going to float round the course in my little boat waving at small people. 

Then maybe once all this is over and I come back and start actually training I can go back to writing blogs which make sense....I’ll take bets on that if you like 😉 

From acorns grow....

....a couch to 50 miles plan? 

Safe to say I’ve fallen out of running, I knew it was happening but it still felt a surprise just how much I haven’t felt like running. Those who know me will know how much I hate the term running mojo, especially as this has nothing to do with mojo. I haven’t lost my mojo. I’m not sure I even had any mojo to start. But I have stopped enjoying running, or feeling motivated to run. That said I haven’t let it worry me. I’ve had enough to worry about. 

It’s amazing how people who are apparently “inspirations” to others can fail to inspire themselves. Even doing the simplest of things like a parkrun has been beyond me. Unless I was safely protected by the blue and white of the Run Director vest. Running sucks has become my new mantra. I even bought my wife a medal hanger for Christmas with those words emblazoned across it. But running doesn’t suck does it? I wouldn’t have run 9 marathons, an ultra and hundreds of training runs if it sucks? I mean that would be a complete waste of all our times and you reading this blog....wouldn’t it?

So I let the running slip without worrying. In December I had my first ever DNS - which was sad as it was the anniversary of my first ever race, just 5 miles but I decided to help at Park Wood junior parkrun instead (after the advice of quite a few others!)

 

Then I had my second, when I knew there was just no way I could run 10 miles on New Years Eve....not least because I was on the second weekend of a triple whammy of RD at Maidstone parkrun and supporting my wife be ED at juniors! 

But I knew we had a new year just around the corner and more than that, I had already started making plans for this new year. My 10th marathon is to be a foreign affair - travelling to Cyprus for the Limassol marathon. My second ultra is to be in June, where I shall attempt to Race to the Tower without stopping - just 50 miles (see above reference to a couch to 50 mile plan!) and then an adventure to Scotland with my running buddy Jules, for the Loch Ness Marathon in September. These things will require me to run....so I gather! 

Which means I’ve had to run. I’ve had to start again. Your fitness isn’t lost completely but your VO2 max does drop after 2 weeks of not running. My last run was the Ashford 666 (a great race by the way as how many races do you have to climb a hill using a rope?) and it was tough, mainly as it fell amongst my extended period of not running. After I completed Beachy Head marathon I had only run 50km (including the 666) until the end of 2017. That used to be nearly my weekly amount!

I’m not stupid, I know I’m starting almost from scratch - which meant I’m being kind to myself, re evaluating my training plan. Starting with a 3k route which was the identical route to the first one I ever ran outside. That time it took me over 40 minutes to complete so I should be happy with the 26 minutes I managed on Thursday. Today I went further, I ran just over 5 miles. My lungs have been burning, my legs - actually not too bad. I’m run/walking and I know I’ll go out for another run, and another, and another. 

Yet it’s different, I don’t feel under pressure. I haven’t wanted to run alone or with people for months. But I did a few runs in that quiet period with the selfies and it wasn’t so bad. I’m pretty sure they’ll still be waiting for me when I get back! For this January I’m going to run alone. Then I’ll reach out for someone to run with. Or walk with. Or run/walk with. Or I won’t. I’ll take stock and see how I’m feeling, where I am. 

I’ve changed a lot in these past few months. Not just because I haven’t been running, but because I’ve been learning about what I need to live my life. To be freer, fuller - overthrowing the tyranny of the shoulds and being myself. It’s fun - you should try it!