Observations of an occasional runner
Surprisingly, after my run yesterday, I awoke with no stiffness in my legs and managed to walk down the stairs without clinging on to the wall for support.
Rather than take a chance that I’d not be able to do the same tomorrow (the second day after a big run is always the worst) I clambered aboard the running machine in bare feet and boxers and ran to dislodge the lactic acid.
I ran one mile in 9.25, but now I’ve got to run off to prepare breakfast. Have a GREAT week peops!
I had the great privilege to pass and chat to a whole Dukedom of D 0f E teams this morning whilst out running, and lovely young people they were too… as were the team that claimed they had been trying to get the Award for forty years and were currently looking for the nearest pub!
One word of advice to those considering taking the award though. Keep stepping forwards. Teams have similar dynamics whatever their purpose and it is easy for one or two negatively inclined people to render the rest of the group literally immobile… one of the teams I passed had progressed but one mile by the time I ran back past them having completed ten miles. Here, as with many things in life, it can pay just to keep moving, even when you’re knackered having had a bad night’s sleep in a leaky tent. And don’t I just know that!
Apart from the bad night’s sleep in a leaky tent bit!
As I ran up the hill from Jack and Jill, I already felt pretty knackered, but after last week’s ten-miler, I knew that I had to run at least seven miles.
In direct contrast to the training runs along Brighton seafront at the start of the year, pretty much everyone was happy to engage today… and boy, were there ever a lot of people out to say good morning to!
Aside from the numerous D of E teams, there were cyclists (including one guy, Damian, who had a similar experience to me in the Brighton Marathon, coming in at 4.02 when he wanted a time with a three on the front of it), kite flyers (including a father who had just walked up the way-steep scarp slope with his children, including his three-year old son who didn’t even look tired) and walkers galore. I must have said good morning to over a hundred people!
It was hard going on the white path as I neared Blackcap, but I was following the route that Mark and I did a few weeks back so I knew that there was a two-mile downhill section ahead. Alas, the wind that had been spirited and behind me all the way along the top was now, with the gradient in my favour, full in my face so the going was still hard work!
Before you reach the A27 at Newmarket, there’s a sneaky and really sharp incline and I had to follow my own instructions to just keep going… despite tired legs.
And then there’s a long hill down to the road and those of you who know how it feels to turn around at the bottom to run back again probably know what I mean when I say that I really wished that my car had been there, rather than at Jack and Jill.
Rather bizarrely, it was.
Eh?
I set off up the hill with the wind at my back and made surprisingly light work of the gradient, passing some young hikers sullenly edging northwards as if they were dragging a nation behind them. It’s roughly a quarter of a mile to the first rise, the same again down the perilously steep section (fortunately it was dry) and then just over two miles to the next rise on the top of the Downs. This section is a long slog and was fairly littered with D of E teams walking or reclining against their rucksacks, but they were generally in good spirits.
I reached the top in 28 minutes, which is actually a minute less than it took me to run down! And then it was the long haul to Jack and Jill against the wind.
Unusually, my car was absent, my having left it at the other end for a change.
In case you’re still puzzling over what you have just read (and are familiar with Hobbits), this here is a tale of back and there again.
I turned at the windmills at the 1.11 mark and with seven miles to the car and t=with the big downhill section at the end, had great hopes of knocking at least five minutes off the time Mark and I took to do the run (the other way around) a few weeks ago.
Alas, as a result of my few short stops to chat to people, I managed only to beat it by a minute. But there’s no shame in that, as I didn’t have the irrepressible Mark to drag me kicking and screaming along… even though he has completed the run a full ten minutes faster on at least one occasion.
So 14 miles in 2.24, 5.8 mph and a whole lot less sleepy afterwards than last time around. All in all, a great day!
I awoke, relaxed and happy to a clear blue, eight o’clock in the morning sky and mussed around the house while two quadspressos and a banana politely took their turns to slide down my throat.
I was in no hurry to go running, in part because of a vague disinclination to experience pain and in part because I was I just relaxed… there are a lot of fascinating worky ideas in my head at the moment and I was enjoying just sitting and allowing them to mull around.
Eventually, when Kim had finally showed her face, I set off into the morning.
I seldom really know how easy the running will be until I’m out there and this morning it was only okay; nothing more fluid than that. Soon after starting I realised that I had a twelve bar blues riff going around in my head… little did I know that pretty much the same notes would go around and around in my head like a washing machine on a spin cycle right up to the end of my run!
I had a vague desire to run to the Beacon, accepting that I might turn around before then, so I ran out past a gloriously bright Oldlands Mill and down into Ditchling.
Psychologically, Ditchling always seems like the low point in my circuits, mainly because there is a hill to run up whether you’re heading south or north. Today the hill going south, Ditchling Beacon, seemed pretty straightforward, but when I reached the top I was intensely disappointed to see it had taken me 1.05 to get there. I vaguely remember having reached there in 45 minutes on one occasion, so to take 20 minutes longer beggared belief.
But it was glorious up there and for a moment or two I had the certainty that, of all the people in Sussex who had their feet on the ground, mine was the highest head.
Confused by the time, I headed back, pausing at Oldlands on the way way to admire the view.
When I got back to Ockley Lane I started to run a little harder than normal, based on the piteous time I had taken to get to the Beacon. I was surprised how much energy I still had and I kept the pressure on right up until the end, hustling down the last quarter mile as if I had the Bok breathing down my neck.
And then I was really confused. If it had taken me 1.05 to get to Ditchling Beacon, then it had just taken me 32 minutes to get back… something was clearly amiss!
Fortunately, with the aid of the time code on my photos, I was able to determine that I must had read my watch incorrectly, though goodness knows how. I think the outbound leg actually took me 50 minutes and the return 47. 1.37 overall to do 10.2 miles… 6.3mph average and despite my pre-run fears, no pain whatsoever!
We had a great weekend, but the consequence of having a delicious meal at Philip & Isabelle’s in London on Saturday night, followed by an early morning drive home, was that I had no appetite for running on Sunday morning.
And once I had finished the novel I had been reading, I sat & read HBR instead… although it was not exactly Sunday reading!
Last thing last night I decided that, if the weather was clement this morning, I would go out for a run rather than sit & read (since I had already made a good start on HBR!).
It took me a few minutes to remember my plan when I got up at 6am, but by a quarter past I was running off down the road into a shepherds warning morning.
I took my default short route (Royal Oak, Wivelsfield, West Wood, Magical Path) to the accompaniment of six bars from the end of Stairway to Heaven which I’ve been driving Kim mad by playing repeatedly on my guitar… by the end of the run, I was going mad listening to it go around in my head too!
The sun made an appearance while I was running around, at one point vividly lighting up two or three trees in the relative gloom ahead of me. I couldn’t help but smile!
Bearing in mind I had got up and gone out with nothing more than a banana for sustenance (no, no time even for a quadspresso!), I felt pretty good, butI knew I was not running especially quickly.
As I came across the backlit Common, I stretched out my stride a little, but soon returned to a more circumspect pace.
So 5.2 miles in 48 minutes is a great way to start the week and at 6.5mph, is not such a bad pace either.. especially for a pre-7am run!
Of the various ways that I could have spent my birthday morning, few could compare with going for a run on the South Downs with Daren, followed by a late breakfast with my parents.
Other than, perhaps, if Cliff had been able to come out to run as well!
We met at Jack & Jill and took the doubly downhill route down to Pyecombe, Wolstonbury, Clayton, the tank tracks and still further down to Jack & Jill again… a little like an MC Escher’ mobius strip.
It was a glorious morning, with laughter and stimulating conversation flowing freely all the way round… and beautiful views to boot!
To add to the ambience, each time we paused to soak up the view there seemed to be a new text or email from friends & family, wishing me a happy birthday. Thank you very much, you wonderful people!
This additional distraction may have contributed to the time, which was slightly longer than the previous ‘slightly longer than the original time’ time… if you get my drift.
Anyway, it took us 1.15 to run 6.25 miles, which I make a paltry 5mph! But who cares? We had fun!
On the way out to catch a movie last night, Kim asked if I was running with anyone today and the answer was a forlorn negative. But on checking my phone having watched the excellent Salt with Angelina Jolie, there was a text from Mark asking if I wanted to run in the morning.
I’m not really sure where I’ve picked it up from, but I seldom like to suggest running with people as I don’t like to trouble them… invite me and I’ll move heaven & earth to be there. Unless it’s any of the races that Mark was suggesting I enter… I’m not sure when they are but they unfortunately coincide badly with other things I need to be doing.
It was grey and blustery when I met Mark at Jack & Jill and I was wondering whether longs might have been a good idea, but once we got going it was okay… partially because the wind was behind us.
Mark regaled me with the story about last weekend’s Seaford Marathon (I was very busy last weekend) and we made good time chatting as we ran out past Ditchling Beacon. At the gate before Blackcap, we turned right and ran mostly downhill all the way to the A27 at Housedean Farm. At 7 miles and 1.06 this was our turning point.
We then turned and ran mostly uphill for about 2 miles back to the gate, before turning directly into the wind for the section along the top back to the cars, which was tough going.
The last uphill is an old favourite of mine so I found some energy to pick up the pace here, but otherwise the speed was, er, shall we say gentle. It actually took us 13 minutes longer to get back, than to get there.
So 14 miles in 2.25, 5.8mph average (6.36mph outbound but only 5.32mph homebound) and highly enjoyable regardless.
As I sit here, trying desperately to come up with a witty little title, my ickle peepers are starting to close and I may just have to have a snooze. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…
It had been hissing down with rain all last night and generally blowing a hoolie, so it was with some surprise that the day was glorious by the time Daren and I met at Jack & Jill. That doesn’t mean fabulously sunny, mind, but rather just that it was marvellous to be out in!
We followed the same route as last week, the only difference being the amount of mud and general slipperyness underfoot… requiring a degree of circumspection lest one of us oldies did ourselves an injury. [you can see already that I’m setting the scene for a slower time!]
We chatted amiably as we ran up on to Wolstonbury where the view was sublime.
We ran gently down the rather slippery grass side of Wolstonbury and into the next valley… the one that would be great for sledging.
It’s hard to believe how deceptive this looks… what may look like a short bank is actually a deep valley with steep sides. In fact, the other side was steep enough to cause us to stop just beyond the stile to get our breath back… not even the tank tracks do that!
Then it was across through Clayton and up, up and more up the tank tracks, up to the very top, from where we looked across and down onto Wolstonbury.
From here it was all downhill to the cars.
In fact, the round trip was something like 900 feet of descent, so apart from it being slippery underfoot, it was probably pretty easy.
So 6.25 miles in 1.10 or 5.35mph.
Can I just say, that despite all the downhill, I had SUCH an enjoyable run… thanks Daren!
I’m clearly exaggerating, but it was (just) a little like running out into a swimming pool this morning. It was warm and humid and everyone who said good morning to me spoke in a soft tone as if they didn’t want to disturb the surface of the water any more than they had to.
I ran over to Ote Hall and out around Wivelsfield church, before running across to Wivelsfield itself. The church bells both welcomed me and then followed me on across the fields and the rain, when it finally came, did so in a similarly gentle, tinkling way.
It may have reduced the temperature slightly, but the rain made no difference to my energy levels, which were similarly subdued.
I ran on down Hundred Acre Lane then doubled back in order to run through a field that used to be sapling oaks, now ten-footers.
Then it was down the Magical Path and back across the Common.
7.8 miles in 1.15 – 6.24mph.
Earlier in the year circumstances conspired to prevent me from accompanying Daren on one of his new running circuits and rather than try to figure it out on my own, I waited patiently for his return.
Today we ran that circuit.
Daren was describing how amazing it was swimming in the sea this morning despite the low water temperature… and how quickly he changes into dry clothes on the beach afterwards. He said it was a small pleasure, although I might have got this muddled up (as if), and maybe it was Claire who called it a small pleasure. I know it might seem like a trivial point, but if the water was cold then it’s probably a little wonder.
Our route took us down through the golf club and into Pyecombe village before we started the long drag up to the top of Wolstenbury Hill. Daren had persuaded me that it was warmer out than the car-park at Jack & Jill would indicate and by the time we reached this point I was inclined to agree.
From there we dropped down into a valley that would make a perfect bowl in which to sledge in the snow… before we found how hard it was to run up the other side.
We soon got back to Clayton at the bottom of the hill beneath the windmills and then, opting for a slightly longer return, we ran along to the tank tracks. Readers might remember that this was the location for the Blighty Grouse Grind (inspired by the route that Daren found in Vancouver), but fortunately we chose to make only one ascent today.
It was a good job that we were both there, as we each suspected that we would have otherwise paused for a rest half way up.
The great thing about the top of the tank tracks is that it’s all downhill back to the cars.. just as well!
Daren’s delightful circuit was 6.3 miles and we completed it in 1.06 (my watch said 1.10, but the difference is that he stops his Garmin when he pauses to look at the view). A great pace either way, bearing in mind the severity of the hills that were included and a fantastic start to the year!