Month: October 2009

In our garden, in the midst of the ‘burbs and surrounded by trees, houses and tall hedges, the beginning of the GMT half of the year was heralded by a gloriously calm, warm and sunny morning.  (you have remembered to put your clocks back, haven’t you?).  I felt that the Gore jacket and beanie hat may well be superfluous, but took them anyway, just in case wearing shorts turned out to be a little keen.

Just as well, as it was a somewhat different story at Jack & Jill, where the car door was nearly ripped out of my hands by the wind.  In fact, with hot sun, whistling wind and even a little rain from the scudding clouds in the course of my run, I was reminded of autumn, summer and spring… like a timely recap of the year we’ve had, ahead of the onset of winter.

I cannot say that I was flowing along today as it was darn hard work, even with the wind bowling me along from my rear starboard quarter, but there were a lot of other runners and walkers around today and one simply HAS to keep up appearances.  At one point I saw two runners on the hill ahead of me and I felt a familiar surge of energy push me up the hill in pursuit.  It took me a while to catch them, but not long to leave them behind when I did.

I got to Blackcap at 43 minutes, thanks in part to the thought of running with Mark Johnson and then I pushed onward to do the loop that he likes to do down to Lewes racecourse.  As I did so, the wind brought a brief but heavy smattering of rain, as if to suggest that this might not be a great idea.

The turning point, which once again I have had trouble spotting on the map, was at almost exactly one hour… and the thought of the other hour-plus to get back made me wonder why I had come so far.

The first hill back up from there is about 2 miles long and was hard going indeed, especially with the wind pummelling the cobwebs from my head.  In fact the balance of the run had this same characteristic and even the downhills were tough work.

I paused briefly at Ditchling Beacon 1.43 into my run and wondered whether I could make it back to the car in 17 minutes, bearing in mind it had taken me 19 minutes to get here at the start of the run.  I decided to give it a try.  This involved stretching out my stride going down the hills and just keeping my nose to the grindstone on the uphill sections.  As I came down the final hill towards the windmills and into the blessed shelter of gorse on either side, so my stride lengthened and the people I ran past must have thought I was completely barking mad.

As I turned into he car park I hit the stop button on the stopwatch… at exactly 2 hours.  Along with a GREAT feeling of satisfaction, I felt a real need to collapse in a heap!  It was a total relief to get into the car and out of the wind.

I confess to being slightly less joyous right now however, having looked back to my post from November 25th 2007 when I ran the same route with Mark… 9 minutes faster!  So much for progress… although it reiterates the additional speed that you can conjure up just by running with someone else… something which will hopefully play to my advantage come marathon day!

I was in no hurry whatsoever to go running this morning and I sat reading The Week for a second quadspresso while I waited patiently for the heavy frost to melt on the windows of the cars outside.  As a result it was 10.30am before I closed the front door behind me and set off down the road… clothed in the following technical gear:  soft Rono t-shirt underlayer, long-sleeved Rono with a zip neck, Gore jacket, IQ beanie hat, Craft gloves, Thorlo woollen socks and a pair of Rono summer shorts.  Back up a bit I hear you yell… shorts?

Cliff use to wear shorts every day right through to Christmas, despite the blue tinge his legs would take on by the time Santa’s little helpers started their annual shopping spree.  I thought the least I could do is to hold out until the Autumn Solstice… although I feel a little sheepish as I sit here writing now, as that happened on September 22nd!  DUH! clocks go back next weekend.

Actually I have to confess that, although it was chilly outside, the sun was shining in a totally glorious fashion and the solar warming was sufficient to consign the gloves to the big pocket in the front of my shorts within about 20 minutes, the hat following around the 45 minute mark.

By this time I had run out across Folders Lane onto the southern part of the common, down through Ditchling and on towards the bottom of the Beacon path.  I reached the top at 56 minutes and the views were superb!

From there I ran East to Streat Hill and then doubled back on myself to drop down the scarp slope to Old Middleton.  To give you a concept of the hills that I climb, this should give some indication of the gradient.

From the bottom I headed pretty much north before turning left to go through Blackbrook Wood, down the Magical Path and back to home across the Common with its autumnal grass resplendent in the bright sunlight.

I covered 12.9 miles in the two hours and eight minutes I was out and I can tell you that I’m really feeling every minute of it as I sit here tapping away on the keys right now.  I had intended to go out a’visiting this afternoon, since Kim has gone to see Jason, but I can feel a snooze coming on instead!  Ah, poor dear me: the joys of getting older!

After a highly entertaining dinner with friends in London last night and the subsequent 1am homecoming, an 8am meet-up at Jack and Jill was always going to be a little bit of a struggle.

I was actually there early and was reclined comfortably in my car when Cliff pitched up.  We chatted for a while through open windows from the warmth of our cars before each calling Daren to see where he was… other than late, that is.

Finding no answer, we ran down the hill to the main road to give him some additional time grace, before heading up the hill again and on, towards the Beacon.  He called while we were still half way up, blaming an alarm clock that still thought it was ten-past-six.  If only!  I would still have been comfortably asleep under the cosy warmth of the winter duvet, instead of up here on a cold and drafty hill and feeling tired!

We pressed on despite the cold and reached the top of the hill before Cliff’s phone rang and he stopped to converse.  At the Beacon, his phone rang again, and he stopped to converse.  When we got to the white cow, a bit further on still, which Cliff thought would be on my map but unfortunately is not actually shown, Cliff’s phone rang again.  And then a second time.

We turned reluctantly for home and had made it past the Beacon and had met up with Daren coming the other way, before Cliff’s phone rang yet again… I can see why he normally doesn’t carry the damn thing!  The three of us ran back to the cars where Cliff, now needing to run an urgent errand elsewhere, sadly tootled off.

Rather than abandon Daren to the hills on his own, I tagged along and we ran down the hill into Clayton and along Underhill Lane.  We then took the tank tracks right the way back up to the top, running every step of the way.  Which was why, when my phone rang as we neared to top, I didn’t stop to take the call, but rather ran on conversing with a persistent sales person between gasps of breath!

My feeling as we ran down the hill towards Jack and Jill for the second time was very different to the first.  Gone was the feeling of cold and tiredness and I now felt warm and alive … that extra loop with its BIG hill was really worthwhile!

Between the seven  phone call stoppages or distractions (I actually thought it was eight, so I think I’ve even missed one out!) and the steep hills, the speed was never going to be fantastic (at 5.25mph it clearly isn’t), but I’m pleased that I ended up running for one hour 44 minutes and that I covered 9.15 or so miles.

It was really great fun running with both Cliff and Daren, separately and together!  And despite the different challenges that each of us has from a work perspective, it really is pretty cool being fit and in your forties and being able to schedule time so that you can spend it with friends like this!

And according to Daren’s clock, it’s still not time to get up yet!

It was comparatively chillsome as I stood waiting for the guys at Falmer this morning.  It was clearly not that cold though, as Andy and Cliff arrived and stripped to shorts and t-shirts.  To be fair, I was also wearing shorts, but my Gore jacket had snuck itself on to my person and I didn’t feel warm enough to deny it passage.

Falmer is a great place to start from, as the initial hill is long, at 1km, but not too steep.  Once at the top, the next ten minutes is flat or slightly downhill so you get warmed up pretty well without overdoing it.  At the Newmarket Copse however, the boys seemed to have a tad of trouble the the gate.

From there we ran up to the ridge and along Juggs Road, where my Gore jacket finally became a Gore belt.  We didn’t see any well-laden women while we were there, but I guess that they would probably take their wares by road these days… and before you assume that I’m being lewd in some way (qui, moi?), you may want to read this!

We were however somewhat surprised and delighted by the demonstration by the Advanced Mowing Class.

Despite the absence of Sam, or any fishwives for that matter, the view of Seven Sisters from the top of Swanborough Hill was marvellous.

From here we dropped down to the bottom of the valley near the Balsdean pumping station and it was lovely to feel the now-warm wind blowing the cobwebs away.

And then we started the long grind back up to the Newmarket ridge, taking in Standean Bottom and Falmer Bottom, before reaching the steep hill of the Castle Hill nature reserve.  From previously cruising along at the back, Andy suddenly exhibited the competitive streak for which he is well known, by pretty much sprinting up the hill, while Cliff and I languished behind… walking.

From the top it’s pretty much downhill all the way back to Falmer and on that last 1km section, I opened up my stride and let the speed flow.  At least for a while until I got the stitch!  I then cruised happily along until I heard Andy bearing down on me, at which point I opened up all the stops again to make certain that I reached the final gate at the front of the pack!

The run seemed like it was a really long way, but it was in fact only 8.5 miles.  It also seemed at least as fast as last Sunday, but at one hour 26 minutes, we only averaged 6mph.  We did stop a number of times to take pictures, to pee, to work out where we were, and where we were going, to pee again (Andy), and again etc… whether this would account for the 13 minute difference between 6mph and 7mph I don’t know, but it’s probably not that bad.