The other guys, the ones who said yes, must think I’m completely crazy, huh?
Alas, they are right and I am crazy! For the lowdown on the morning, click here.
Yes?
Do I look crazy?
Yes, I guess I do, and as you know, I am!
I have to confess that the motivation to run came from Kim this morning. I was contentedly supping on my quad-spresso this morning, tucked up in my reading chair with a truly excellent book (The Lost Village, by Richard Askwith – more of which later, I’m sure) when she announced that she was going for a run. Despite the fact that she drove to the gym to do this, I still felt I couldn’t just sit there and relax. Although it was a close run thing!
The only additional bits of kit that I took with me this morning were a neckie to keep my nose warm and Kim’s warm gloves, both of which were needed. The other things that were very welcome were my Gore jacket (with only two layers underneath) which was toasty and my Thurlo woolen socks, without which my feet would have fallen off several times over the last few months. The really great thing about the Thurlo’s is that even when you splash through a muddy puddle and your feet get an ice cold blast, they warm straight back up again. Totally priceless!
So, the going was a little slippery on the pavement as I set out, but once I got out into the country the going was… a little more slippery still! Not from the snow, you understand, but from the mud. Oh glorious mud! It rained a lot yesterday before it snowed today, so there was lots of it, with a covering of snow to disguise it for the unwary. It even caught me out once or twice, giving me a good excuse to laugh out loud as the icy cold enveloped my feet!
My route this morning took me across the common, past the Royal Oak, up through Hundred Acre Woods, right across to the water tower, the railway and the then home. Unusually, I met three other runners out enjoying the conditions… well two of them were anyway. One lady was wearing her brand new trainers and was clinging to the foliage along the edge of the path in a vain attempt to keep them dry. To be fair, she and her husband had run six miles and the trainers were no longer particularly clean, but there was a stark difference between her progress and mine, as I sploshed down the middle of the path!
Back across the common, the snow was in abundance, as can be seen in this short video video000a.mp4 (and note that it’s quite difficult to press the off button wearing gloves on cold hands) while beyond the water tower some snowmen and their dogs were out playing with the locals, which you don’t quite get to see ahead of me in this short video video001a.mp4.
It was a joy to be out in the weather and my run lasted one hour and five minutes. covering 6.4 miles… a speed of around 5.9mph or 10.15minute miles. Ironically, about the same time and distance that Kim covered in the gym and strangely, she felt colder than I did by the time she got back!
Get on out there!
I was helping lay the concrete base for a barn this morning so I didn’t go running, but I thought you might like to get a sense of what it’s like to be in my shoes from the following short video, taken on Monday. And for all of you that have been putting off going out running… get on out there, the weather is lovely!
Barbie returns
I suspect that you already know that the longer you don’t run, the less you feel like running: while I last ran only a few days ago, it was this feeling I had when I woke up today. Leaving nothing to chance, I donned my running gear from the getgo, ate a banana and downed my usual quadruple espresso… and closed the door behind me on the way out.
Now I either had to run, or alternatively look silly standing around on my street while my neighbours go to work. As a portfolio worker (as in someone who has the good fortune to have a number of work interests) they already think I’m weird, so I figured I’d better get running.
The aim this morning was to take the photograph above for an earlier post, so I quickly worked out a convoluted way to pass there and was delighted to find that there she was, still walking around harmlessly and without a care in her head. Wherever it was.
The downside of going this way was that I once again ended up falling off the edge of my map and my word, it’s muddy over there! What can I say other than ‘don’t stray orf the map!’ When I finally get around to buying the next one up (which may end up being the two maps, as I think the bit I need falls right on a vertical join) I won’t be at all surprised if it’s all mud (and planks, see the pic below), as far as the legs can run.
So what else can I say? From an unenthusiastic start, the different route with its more than liberal helping of mud helped to re-engage me and by the time I returned, I was running well. It was warm enough that I had to take a layer off (the middle one) and tie it around my waist. I also had to take my gloves off, which since there’s only one place to put them, may explain why I got a few more smiles along the way than normal. Barbie certainly seemed pleased to see me, although she bent over backwards to hide her blushes.
In all, I was out for one hour 18 minutes and covered 5.5 miles according to my map. Though exactly how much further I covered off-map I’m not exactly sure. It could be a good time to buy shares in Ordinance Survey!
Windblown eyes
After running on Friday morning and the torrential rain of Saturday night, I didn’t feel a burning desire to go out running yesterday morning. Which has made me feel slightly guilty, as part of the reason for running is so that I have something to write about. No run: no blog.
But I had a cunning plan. This morning I called up Cliff to see if he wanted to run… maybe do a re-run of the route we ran a week or so back. Now, if you know Cliff you’ll probably be somewhat amazed at the fact that he wasn’t really keen to run today, no thank-you.
Over the last ten or twelve years I have employed thousands of freelance staff and one of the things that you quickly get used to is the excuses as to why they cannot turn up on time. Or at all. Or even why it is that you can’t see them with your own eyes at the place where they say they are. People often call me cynical, but I’m rarely surprised by excuses.
Which makes Cliff’s excuse of, and I quote, ‘windswept eyes’ all the more amazing: I’ve just not heard it before: it’s an original.
Sadly, Cliff is not prone to exaggeration, so if he has windswept eyes, there are probably salt stains extending past his ears and onto to the expanse of his shoulders. Saxo is probably considering sponsorship, or negotiating extraction rights. As the reason for the windblown eyes begins to unfold in front of you, I should like you to ponder what Cliff, the man who has climbed the tallest mountains (yes, including Everest) on each of the seven continents, means when he says the weather was ‘so bad’.
The Jurassic Coast Challengeis held on the Dorset coast path and consists of a marathon on Friday, a marathon on Saturday and a marathon on Sunday. I still remember how I felt after my one flat Berlin marathon, so you’ll excuse me if the prospect of running one the following day and one the day after that does not fill me with desire. Let alone on a path that is as steep at the path across Beachy Head but twice the height and never-ending.
But for people like Cliff and Pete, numbers one and two on Daren’s fit list, there is no challenge in that. Oh no! Fortunately Votwo, the organisers, also cater for crazy people like this by holding a race called the Oner… essentially the opportunity to run all three marathons back to back, through Saturday night and into Sunday morning.
Cliff, Pete and their friend Kevin duly started the Oner at 7pm on Saturday night. But they had only managed to reach the first checkpoint, some 8 or 9 miles, before the organisers pulled the race. Cliff said that they were out in the worst part of the storm and that the weather was ‘so bad’ that they were just slipping everywhere in the mud while being inundated with sheets of water. In the pitch dark.
Not that that had daunted them. This is a training run for a serious race (it has it’s own Wikipedia entry!) later in the year and I have no doubt whatsoever that they would have continued, given the chance. But after a night in the backroom (beer cellar?) of a pub (beer seller?) the race was restarted at 5.30am. In all, 20 of the original 35 starters decided to continue and whilst the race was shortened to make account for the missing hours, the day was still some 50 miles.
The race last year had 20 entrants in total and the word used by the organisers to denote people who retired is ‘broke’. Starting a race at half past six in the evening, one can only imagine what ‘breaking’ at 1am or 3am the following morning feels like. You’ve put six or nine hours into a race and you have to give up. Gutted! Only five runners finished.
But this weekend, with Kevin’s wife Lydia in support, our three intrepids (should that be extra-peds?) made surprisingly short work of the serious hills, glorious sunshine and stiff wind, coming in joint 8th or 9th (results not yet available) in 11 hours.
So if Cliff is not keen to run because of windblown eyes, I understand.
More rain… and bad wind
After almost perfect driving conditions out on the roads yesterday, this morning dawned very wet. We ran from Nick’s place and it was fun to go somewhere completely new for a change… even if I have absolutely no idea of where we went or how we got back. At times I had the feeling that Nick didn’t know where we were either, but I’m sure this was just feigned.
The run was a mix of delicious, lightweight and very wet mud in a parky sort of area; a nasty road with no path and lots of fast-moving traffic; a forest firebreak with big trunks across and deep slippery clay-mud, another road like the previous one; and a pavement through a build-up area, where the puddles seemed to be jumping out at me as I ran past. This latter may have been something to do with Nick’s foot… I don’t know.
At one point he managed to thwack me with a medium sized tree: I thought it was a little unsporting bearing in mind we were clinging to the side of the dangerous road to avoid being collected by a car roaring past at the time.
I was also surprised by the drains in the locale. It’s a fairly upmarket area, but even in the forest I kept getting whiff of them from time to time. Later I realised it wasn’t the drains…
So, our run was a very wet 6.6 miles in a breathy 58 minutes. Great fun for a change, but can someone buy Nick an OS map before I return?
Really bad wind
Nessie made a delicious breakfast for Cliff and I this morning, consisting of eggs from the hens in the garden, bacon, sausages, mushrooms, fried bread… and beans. It was a HUGE plate and they waited patiently while I slowly worked my way through it – Cliff having woofed his down before their three huge dogs (which you can see in this video with After the Ice) spotted that he had food enough for all of them.
What was odd about it, was that whilst you would expect to have wind after eating a meal like that, we had it before. In fact, truth be known, Cliff had it much worse than I did.
It was one of those mornings where one look outside gives you sufficient information to call the planned run off. Alas, I knew that whatever excuse I could devise would not suffice… and certainly not ‘it’s fweezing cold and heaving it down with rain’. I suspect that even ‘hell hath frozen over and it’s raining frozen fire’ would still elicit a response along the lines of ‘get out there, you wuss’.
So it was that I found myself running with Cliff on this weather-filled day. He really is SO fit (as Daren’s fitness table shows) and it won’t surprise you to hear that he ran up the steep hill behind their house (25 minutes bottom to top) directly into the strongest Northerly wind I have run in this winter. Strangely, I neither ran up the hill nor directly into the wind… instead I ran (pretty much flat out) two feet behind him whilst watching the seemingly almost flat ground spew out from under his feet.
When we turned to the East towards Firle Beacon at the top of the hill, I finally emerged from Cliff’s lea and the full force of the wind hit me. It was so strong that it was actually difficult to breathe and when it started to hail, ten minutes later, it was like needles stinging the side of my face. My gloved hands were starting to freeze, but I knew that if I stopped it would only prolong the agony, so the only option was to keep on pressing forward.
As we approached the top of Firle Beacon, the full force of the wind was augmented by driving rain: the combination meant that I could see nothing out of my watery up-wind left eye! Momentarily I was transported back in time to kayak trips in my ‘teens & early twenties when the wind and rain always seemed to unleash their full force as we crossed an area of open water… despite the feeling of total wretchedness and despair, the only option was to press on. One paddle stroke forward, one to correct the heading as the wind caught the bow and seemingly a third stroke forward to get back to where you started.
Cliff’s run rate is right on the edge of my capability and I was really pleased to have managed to stay with him, even if I had slip-streamed him for the really difficult bit and now felt like up-chucking! But from here on in it was mostly downhill with the wind in our rear quarter. Slowly I managed to fill and empty my lungs more fully, while my frozen hands became more painful as the warm blood returned and eventually the pain subsided.
The sun came out and the run down was a delight in the little valleys where the temperature felt like a summers day. Bizarrely, on one last little uphill section, I could feel the intense heat of the material of my longs on my legs… something that I cannot recall having experienced before.
And before I knew it, we were back, showered and eating breakfast: the pain of the hill receding into my failing memory whilst the rain came down once again outside.
I’m not certain, but I’m pretty sure that we ran around 7.6 miles in just under one hour 10 minutes which is 6.5mph. This is a staggeringly fast speed bearing in mind that we climbed 776 feet and had to cope with a roaring headwind. And for the avoidance of any doubt, this was nothing to do with Nessie’s beans.
From the mouth of babes
Nick & Anna’s son Sam is just as much of a car nut as his Dad and whenever they see a fast car, he points it out. His speech is not yet fully formed, so he says far-ca. He has also grasped the idea of more than one and pronounces another as ‘nuvva.
So you can imagine Nick’s blushes in a crowded supermarket car-park the other day when Sam saw first one, then a second fast car. Look daddy daddy… ‘nuvva far-ca.
Bless!
Shorts
No, I don’t mean clothing… it’s still WAY too cold for me to wear shorts, although Cliff probably went back to wearing them straight after his annual Christmas break!
No, having had more than my fair share of mud, sweat and tears (of laughter) this week, I decided to go for a pavement run… which is not as inspiring as running through countryside… so I don’t run so far… so I have to run faster. Therefore, if you’re still with my logic, I ran for short bursts around a short circuit and shortly became short of breath. Shorts.
31 minutes (WOW, that IS short!) and 3.9 miles gives 7.5mph. Or just under 8 minute miles. This latter information is particularly relevant today because I had to pull the rug out from under my reputation yesterday. My colleague John had assumed that I was training at around 7 minute miles (as he used to), as opposed to 7mph (my usual fastest), which is actually 8-34 minute miles. Or my more usual and sedate 9-15.
Breaking new, er… water
There seemed to be a plethora of possible titles for my entry today, amongst them ‘Harmless Barbie Lost Her Head-ing Too’ (I’ll see if I can get a picture at some point, then you’ll understand!) and ‘Beyond the Edge of the Known Universe’. Let me set the scene though: I didn’t feel like running, it was raining outside, my stomach was ready to eat breakfast, I was happy sitting reading about deforestation in China etc. But weighed against that was the need to write… and hence the need to run… allied to the fact that my gear is truly BRILLIANT. Out I went.
I couldn’t decide whether I was in the mood for a long or a short run, but I topped my water bottle up just in case. It quickly became apparent that water was going to be in abundance, with the brooks and streams pretty much filled to overflowing. This meant that it was also rather muddy… oh boy, is that ever the understatement of the year!
I quickly got into my stride, heading straight through most of the mud except where there was a more obvious firm line. One of the things that you quickly learn when you first drive a car off-road is that you have to slow down and this was no exception… trying to avoid a mudbath at the last minute was not an option given the general lack of traction, so it was often safer to go straight through!
I headed out to the Royal Oak and then decided to go a different way. It seems strange to me sitting here now why I always seem to do this on rainy days! I ran into Wivelsfield and up Slugwash Lane and then turned right where Nick and I normally cut across. Rather than going back down to Wivelsfield though, I headed East with the view of finding a path that goes South further across. I didn’t find it though and ended up running around a big WET field before passing the place I had come in. With the dull, overcast sky, I had managed to lose my direction in the process and now headed North by mistake, into a tract of woodland that could more appropriately have been called WaterWood.
The marked path was basically a small river, so I had no choice but to plough on through it. Splish Splash Splosh! It is very strange how the heart is heaviest when you think you’re going in the wrong direction but you’ve come too far to turn around: out of the whole run, it was only here that I actually registered that it was raining.
Eventually, after more trees, more water and some beautiful, but distant country houses, I emerged back onto Slugwash Lane, although I was sufficiently disorientated that I didn’t realise it. Faced with the choice of which way to go on this unfamiliar road I did what many of my other friends might have done… I chose the up-hill direction. Training is training, after all.
I finally realised where I was when I came to the junction with Lewes Road, to the East of Haywards Heath… and off the top of my map (no, I didn’t have it with me, silly!). The quick way home might have been to turn round and head back down Slugwash Lane to Wivelsfield, but instead I turned towards Haywards Heath and then, some way along the road, made a right turn into Colwell Lane which was marked as unsuitable for motor vehicles.
It seemed okay to me as I ran down the tarmac but then the tarmac ceased and I soon came to understand what the sign meant. Unsuitable? HA! This was the muddiest lane I have run on this whole winter! Oh, how I wish the Bok had been here with his freshly laundered trainers! I could almost have paddled my kayak in places, it was that wet. On and on and on it went and anyone hiding in the undergrowth as I passed (and they would have been hiding, believe me) would have heard the mud-covered monster laughing out loud as he sploshed through the worst of it.
Eventually the tarmac resumed and I emerged onto Fox Hill, passed the pub (very tempting to stop, but they used to have a policy of not allowing muddy boots and I know I would have not even have made it to the door) and headed back into the country in the general direction of Burgess Hill.
Some records are not destined to stand for long and I quickly found that, on reflection, Colwell Lane was not the muddiest of them all. This bridleway really was hilarious and I ended up with one main consideration… not losing my trainers! In places the water & mud was up to my ankles, but on I went. Finally, when it had been assured of it’s place as the new record holder, it morphed into Theobalds Lane, and the ancient tarmac with its plethora of axle-breaking puddles served the useful purpose of washing the mud off my trainers… once again, where was the Bok when I really needed him!
There are two reasonably direct ways back home from this place, one of which has thick mud in the middle of summer, so I opted for the other, even though it was a little dull running on the road.
So, my little run had taken me some 10.2 miles in one hour 45 minutes and whilst the speed of 5.8mph is not outstanding, I think it can hold its muddy head up with pride given the fantastical conditions. As can my gear… my Rono soft underlayer, Gore jacket and iQ beanie, all from Run in Hove (actually), really do help make every day a fair weather runner’s day!