Category: Long run

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London to Brighton bike ride

No, don’t be silly, although I did complete it once in 1990, the year that I bought my first house.  Maybe next year?

I’ve felt a general malaise over the last couple of weeks and I would have AGAIN happily not run… but for two things.  One, the need to write and two, the fact that there is now officially going to be a Brighton Marathon next year.  Places can be booked from Tuesday and I figured that if I couldn’t demonstrate to myself that I could overcome a little lethargy, I really shouldn’t be entering.

Lifting my legs as I ran off down the road required a huge effort and I thought this was going to be a short run indeed.  Since the bike ride was on though, I thought I should at least go across and see the fun before I threw in the towel.  I ran down through the new Folders Keep for the first time (last time I went through that way it was a waterlogged meadow) and across the the cyclists route.  There were more bikes going past than I expected for 9.40am.

Then I headed for Ditching on the east side of the road, round behind all the garden centres.  It was to be a farmyard experience.  First up, the young cows, which I came face to face with as they barred my way.  Ususally cows get out of my way, but this morning it was as if I had ‘breakfast’ written all over me and followed me on the other side of a fence before pushing forward to see how I tasted.  Spooked, I backed off and they decided to show what a great team they were by heading off around the perimeter of the field.  In a thundering, tight group.  As they headed back to where I first encountered them, I picked up my skirts and ran across the field for the next stile.

Further along I came upon a small flock of lambs, who crowded around me as if I still had the ‘breakfast’ sign lit.  As I stepped over a stile they tried to reach through to take my waterbottle and as I moved it back I startled them, otherwise this photo would be far sweeter.

Yet further along I was harrassed by some chickens who also chased after me… what’s going on here?

Finally I made it to Ditchling and there was a certain irony when the Marshall controlling the traffic at the crossroads waved the cars across just as I was about to run through following some cyclists as they whizzed through the village…. ‘sorry mate, I didn’t see you’.

I think you’ll have realised that by now I was past the lethargy and whilst not running strong, I was committed to Ditchling Beacon.  I took my favourite path up, getting admiring comments from some walkers and as I neared the top I dropped onto the road rather than get tangled in the spectators.  Unused to running on tarmac, I verily zoomed up, overtaking all the cyclists that were there and getting some funny glances from all concerned.

Making the Beacon at the 1 hour 7 minute mark, I turned back around and headed down again, this time down the next track to Westmeston.  From here I ran along Underhill Lane and turned right onto a new (to me) track that took me back to Ditchling.  Via a field with some hungry horses that ambled after me.

I then retraced my steps behind all the garden centres, noting a small room with a view en-route.

As I ran down a piece of unused road near St Georges Retreat, I tripped.  I’m forever reminding my parents that they need to exercise their quads to help stop them falling over when they trip, but even my well-exercised, if tired, quads did not save me this time.  I ran forward, trying desperately to gain control with my hands close enough to the ground to touch it, but realising that a crash was inevitable, I jettisoned my water-bottle and dropped into a low and uncomfortable roll.

I lay there, laughing and busily trying to take a photo as a couple with their daughter and two dogs walked gently up.  Sniggering.  It was quite satisfying that I had at least had an audience, even though I had to jump up before the dogs tucked in to my face.

Short run back across the increasingly fuller flow of cycles and back home for 2 hours, 17 minutes.

12.2 miles at 5.3mph.  NOW I feel lethargic, although at least I can enter the marathon with impunity!

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Sunday 14th

Apologies for the sporadic nature of the last few posts, to do both with missed runs and missed posts.  Although I didn’t run midweek (yet again!), last Sunday fell into the latter category, primarily because we rushed straight out to meet our friends Patrick & Sarah at the Tate Modern for lunch… and I’ve then had a manic week.

What makes it doubly difficult to remember what I did is that my notes from the run go as follows: 1.48, Noel, 11 dog walkers, 10.75.  From Cliff’s perspective this might make for a prefect post, but I feel at least some more colour is required, if only to remind me what I did when I cast my eyes back over this at some point in the future.

It was a lovely morning, accentuated by the 7.15am departure time and bearing in mind our plans for the rest of the day, the run couldn’t be too strenuous.  I headed out past Ote Hall, across to the pub at the bottom of Fox Hill in Haywards Heath and up into Colwell Lane, which you may remember is a really muddy lane.  I turned off early though, cutting through to Slugwash Lane, joined the Sussex Border path for a short distance and then headed into Wivelsfield from the north via Strood Farm.

There was a slight diversion when I tracked all the way around a huge field because I missed the path… the funny thing is that it’s not the first time I’ve done it… I just went round the other way last time!

I came out of Wivelsfield on Hundred Acre Lane and I was gently running up the hill, minding my own business when a training shoe appeared silently at my left… I nearly jumped out of my skin!  It was Noel, who was out for a three mile run and therefore running quite a bit faster, but I relish company so I sped up to his pace and we chatted for most of a mile as we ran down the lane.

I then headed back across to the magical path and across the common.  Between the common and the railway line is a path that takes less than 5 minutes to run down and in this duration I passed 11 separate dog walkers.  9.00am must be the time to go out and be sociable around here!

10.75 miles took 1 hour 48 minutes, pretty much 6mph.

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A most enjoyable run!

I’ve recently been sitting out most mornings in the tea-house enjoying the early morning sun.  This week the weather warmed a little and one morning I was sitting in shorts & t-shirt by 7am.  Yesterday however, I walked straight out in my running kit at 6.30am and it was already gloriously warm!

Learning from last week how uncomfortable it is running in the heat, I was out on the road before 7.15am, but it was already warm from a running perspective.

With no time pressure, I headed out to Oldlands Mill and up through Ditchling to the Beacon.  I love running through little villages when there are no cars around but I do appreciate seeing a few lone souls to say good morning to.  I was surprised therefore that the car-park at the Beacon was already mostly full – there was a gathering of 30 or so people on the Beacon itself and I wasn’t quite sure whether it was the ramblers club assembling or a church service waiting to start.  I certainly got a couple of looks as I looped around them & headed back the way I had come.  49 minutes is not my fastest time to here, but acceptable.

The sun was hot as I ran East along the top and there were several other runners and loads of cyclists out enjoying it.  The white path along to Blackcap felt longer than I remembered but I reached it at 1 hour 15 and turned back again to put the sun behind me.

I caught up with a runner who had paused momentarily at the gate and ran on back towards the Beacon with her, chatting as we went.  It is so much easier running with other people and though you sometimes end up running more slowly as a result, the time passes much more quickly and any running pains are anaesthetised.  Claire appeared to have a similar resilience to Cliff, which showed from the fact that when in training for the London Marathon, she used to run from Lewes to Brighton pier along the road… and back again.  The road element of this is significant to me, as there’s no escaping how far you have left to run!

I left Claire at the top of the Beacon at 1 hour 45 and crashed down the Beacon path and on down to Ditchling.  Up Lodge Hill, back past Oldlands Mill and back to Ockley Lane, where I suddenly felt very tired in the leg department.  I pushed on regardless and made it back to the house in 2 hours 27 minutes.  A quick measure on the map puts the distance at 15.25 miles and the speed at 6.2mph.  Both distance and speed are better than other similar runs recently.

I normally have a quiet afternoon after such a run, but instead I spent the afternoon up the ladder painting the house… and since it was quite windy, I found time to also paint the windowpanes, the driveway, the down-pipe etc!

While I remember about it, Claire is running in the Seaford Marathon next weekend, so good luck to her and the rest of the runners!

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Hot and really hard work

I stayed up way late watching a movie last night which meant that it was 8am before I dragged myself out of bed and 9.30am before I got out to run.  By which time it was already quite hot & muggy.  There are mornings when I run off down the road and instantly feel at one with the world and mornings where I struggle for ten or fifteen minutes, after which I start to flow, but this was neither.  This was hard work, pretty much from start to finish.  Every step an effort.

In a funny way, I have a feeling that these are the days that you really strengthen your mind and that was pretty much all that drove me forward today.  I ran out past Oldlands Mill, down towards Ditchling but cutting across round the back of Keymer and through Hassocks to the station.  If I’d had any money I might have considered catching the train home!

Then south along the side of the track to Clayton and up the killer path to Jack & Jill… the two or three people that walked past me as they huffed down the hill must have thought I was barmy!  The windmills don’t sit at the top of the hill, by a long way, and I really had to dig deep to keep on going.  And then I had the one and only bit of respite of the day… I caught up with a girl also running up the hill.  She also must have thought I was barmy as I wittered on about nothing at all and she tried politely to drop back & disengage.  But talking was a perfect task to take my mind off the running and though I only ran with her for 500 metres or so, it gave me the mental energy to punch on up the rest of the hill.  Thank you Zoe!

Kim and I used to train along this path, slowly pushing our boundaries until we could run to Lewes and back.  It’s a really uplifting place, even if I had staggered more than six miles by this point.  I made it to Ditchling Beacon in one hour 22 minutes and then turned for home, pausing for a few moments to admire the skill of a parascender playing on the thermals.

As I ran through Ditchling, I stopped momentarily to chat to an Open House gallery owner… last day today so we’re just off back there to have a look.  The it was back over Lodge Hill, past Oldlands Mill and nearly home.  I had two ’empty’ moments, one at 2 hours when I reached Ockley Lane and had to stand, panting for a few moments and one ten minutes later as I paused to walk.  Just at that moment there was a lady digging her garden who said ‘it’s a bit warm for running… I should walk from here!’ which funnily enough gave me just enough impetus to run the rest of the way back.

Two hours fifteen minutes for 12.9 miles gives 5.74mph… which is actually nowhere near as slow as I thought it would be, bearing in mind how I felt!

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April showers

Kim decided to go swimming, thereby getting only slightly wetter than I did running.

It had been overcast & slightly blowy when I go up and I sat in the tea house, reading and supping a huge espresso from my oldest Kri-Kri cup.  in short, a lovely morning.  I walked back to the house, started to get my running kit on and glanced outside to see it chucking it down with rain.

Despite the best efforts of my Gore jacket, I was pretty wet by the time I reached the end of the road section, not even half a mile from the house.  I had already decided I was going to have a short run in the woods, where rain doesn’t cut into you so badly and so I squared up for my default weekday run.

Out to Wivelsfield via the Royal Oak, through West Wood, back down the Magical Path and across the common.  For some reason I was drenched (the rain must have been particularly wet, or something… oh, and of course I was wearing shorts) but as I stretched my legs out across the common on the homeward section, I felt a pang of guilt.  I had not run far enough for a Sunday.

So rather than take the path home, I continued on for a second loop.  It was kind of nice really, seeing the same scene twice in one morning, as you get to pick up on different things… and compare how wet you felt last time around.

The rain had ceased by the time I stretched out across the common for a second time and I stopped to take a couple of verdant, overcast pictures.

However, after ten minutes home and ten to stretch, there was not a cloud to be seen in the sky!

It was 0.8 miles to the start of my circuit and the loops were then 3.6 miles each making just over 8.8 miles in total.  The weird thing was that the first 4.4 miles took me about 39 minutes… and so did the second 4.4 miles.  One hour, 19 minutes in total, at a pretty consistent 6.72 mph.

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Wednesday run

After laying a good friend to rest yesterday, it was lovely to run out this morning into a flat, calm, drizzly day.  The last couple of days have been very windy so the wetted ground was covered in a thin mat of green leaves and sticks, the remnants of nature’s spring-clean.

I did my quick loop out to Wivelsfield via the Royal Oak, returning via West Wood, the Magical Path and the Common.  I could feel my muscles from my Sunday exertion but otherwise it was a really pleasant run.

I even picked up my feet for a fast finish over the last 700m.

5.2 miles in 45 minutes giving 6.9mph.

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Last Sunday run

It’s always difficult writing after the event, but after a break of about ten days, I did actually get out for a run last Sunday.  I couldn’t let the guys that ran the Prague marathon feel I wasn’t there, at least in spirit!

In short, I ran to the top of the Downs above Westmeston from where I called my Dad to wish him Happy Birthday.  Then turning west I ran to Ditchling Beacon, thundered down the Beacon track and then walked & chatted to a guy for five minutes to recover.  My return was through Ditchling, over Lodge Hill to Oldlands Mill and home.

12.7 miles in two hours, 13 minutes.

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On deep loss

What do you say to the friends & family, the spouse, children, parents or siblings, of a close friend who has died in tragic circumstances?  Especially when you have your own personal thoughts, emotions, memories.

This is a question that has been omnipresent over the last few days and it continued to mull around in my head while I ran this morning.

We go through a fairly similar set of emotions for any major change situation, whether it be to do with work, life or death.  It starts off with shock, confusion, disorientation, immobilisation.  This gives way to denial as our minds struggle to assimilate the information.  We then experience anger, frustration and hurt, often lashing out at those closest to us.

Only at this stage do we really start to confront the reality but this leads to depression, helplessness, hopelessness.  We can often feel victimised too, but it is normal for us to experience these feelings as we only now start to really acknowledge what has happened.  

As we begin to get our heads around the reality, we start to form new frameworks for life and we finally reach acceptance.  Accepting what has happened does not mean that we understand it or like  it in any way, just that we are now more grounded.

It is important that we go through the whole range of these emotions, as people can be left with dysfunctional behaviour when they get stuck somewhere en route.  This is easy to write, of course, less easy to say to someone who is grieving.

Even having become more grounded, we are always susceptible to those surprising moments that remove our composure.  I lost a very dear friend to cancer in 1998 and some months later, as I listened to a beautiful new CD by an artist we had both liked, I found myself in floods of tears.

I had a pause for thought during the run today as, waiting to cross the road outside Sporting Cars of Brighton, around 20 Harley Davidson’s growled their way somberly past.  This vague coincidence will not mean anything to people reading this, but I found myself smiling at happy memories despite the sadness of losing another very close friend.

My run today took me south-east out of Burgess Hill, across the fields and through the chicken runs to Ditchling.  It was a glorious day, but not stunningly hot and it took me 25 minutes to shed my jacket and hat.  The 42 minute mark found me at the bottom of the Beacon track and it took ten minutes for me to reach the top from there.  It seemed easier after my mid-week speed work, but at the top I retched intermittently for about five minutes as I tried to recover… is that too much information?

I then headed east along the top but quickly dropped down the first winding path as I had a plan to overcome the potential emotional baggage of feeling queasy from the hill-climb… which was to do another one.  This time the path up from the bottom was steeper still, but the climb seemed yet more effortless.  I didn’t even pause for breath at the top, despite a strenuous round trip that had taken me fifteen minutes and I heading off down the first stony track I had run up, dodging two separate mad-women on horses on my way down… and one more relaxed one on the level ground at the bottom.

This put me at Sporting Cars in Ditchling and after waiting to cross the road, I headed up East End Lane and back across the fields to the north.  At the common I took the Magical Path and was surprised to find other people walking along it… rare indeed, but it was a lovely day.

The 12.2 mile run took me two hours and five minutes and I feel relaxed about the 5.85mph speed in view of the two scarp-slope climbs I threw in.

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Guest runner

This morning I took Avishai, our weekend house guest up to Jack & Jill to see the view from the top of the Downs.  Alas, what I had hoped would be a beautiful, warm run was anything but.  First, the wind was sharp and cold (added to which we were both wearing shorts) and second, there was a low cloud base so that the view was largely obscured.

We ran the 1.4 km from the car-park to the top of the hill (a height gain of 85 metres) and then in a bid to get out of the wind and get up to working temperature, took the tank tracks down to the very bottom again.  This was a height loss of 145 metres in 1km.  I had in mind to turn round and go straight back up again, but was persuaded, sensibly, to instead run along Underhill Lane.

On the basis that what goes down usually has to go back up again, we ended up taking my favourite route to the top of the Beacon.  With a height gain of 140 metres in about 1.3 miles, it is clearly not as steep as the tank tracks, but as a city dweller & largely flat tarmac runner, Avi proved his metal by keeping up with me the whole way without stopping.

At the top he looked a little like this:

Suitably warmed we headed away from the car along the top of the Downs to Streat Hill and then turned around and ran back.  The cloud was slowly clearing and we could at least get some sense of the view, whilst there was a vague warmth to be detected in the wind.

Having passed Ditchling Beacon for a second time we came upon a most amazing pastoral scene:  The sun came out just as we reached a huge field of closely cropped grass, with slightly rugged-looking cattle neatly spaced out either laying down or standing… it was a little like a child had placed a load of model cows there.  For some reason it looked just weird.

We ran on and reached Jack and Jill having covered 7.9 miles in one hour 25 minutes.  5.6mph is not bad bearing in mind the fact that we threw Ditchling Beacon in for good measure.

Then it was back to base where I aired out the parasol after its long winter incarceration and Kim treated us to a delicious Sunday roast.

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The storming of Wolstonbury Hill

I took a bottle of water with me yesterday, despite the fact that I suspected I might have a short run.  This was less to do with not feeling like running, as I felt fine, but more to do with not feeling particularly inspired by any of my normal routes.

After a relatively dry period, it had been raining for a couple of days so there was a top layer of mud sitting on a more solid surface below.  This meant slippery conditions… actually very slippery in places as I was to find out.

As I headed out of town on Ockley Lane, so another runner appeared in front of me from a path and ran ahead of me.  He didn’t slow and it was only my devil-may-care approach to mud that allowed me to catch him as we ran towards Oldlands Mill.  He looked very familiar to me (like Ian that I used to hang out with 20 years ago) but we only chatted for a few minutes before he ran off to do a shorter loop.  This all may sound odd to non-runners, but when your feet are sliding every which way, your focus is pretty much on the ground rather than any running companion.

He did however ask if I was going to run up the beacon and since that suddenly seemed like a good focus, I said yes and off I ran in that direction.  At the bottom of Lodge Hill I took a dog-leg to the right and cut down to New Road across the fields to the West of Ditchling.  And there was a highly misleading sign from Mid Sussex District Council about the re-routing of a path.  Suffice to say I decided to have a look so turned right and ran along the road.

I’d obviously misread their map and as the path didn’t materialise, I turned left by Lodge Farm and headed towards the scarp slope.  On such a slippery day, climbing the scarp slope can be slow-going so my target was to run up what is locally called the tank-tracks, a path that has has been kind of tarmacked in a primitive way.  It’s a really steep climb and unlike my normal path to the top, it is relentless in its gradient.  It’s also really intriguing as the areas to the left is landscaped like a giant playground.  I made a mental note to find out why.

At the top, as I paused to catch my breath, a couple supplied the answer… it had been where the Canadian troops dug in during the war and the tank-tracks were just that.  The Canadians must have been made of sturdy stuff to drive up and (more to the point) down that gradient… NOT for the faint of heart!

Since I was running well, I turned right, away from the Beacon and headed for new territory… I had decided to take Wolstonbury for the Fosters.  This involved running down past the golf course to the Clayton Hill road, right up the permissive bridleway and then left up the long hill.  

At one point I was running along on a narrow elevated grass verge about a sea of cloggy mud, which was the path, when my left leg slid right to catch my right leg.  With my weight going left toward a clearly painful encounter with a barbed-wire fence (I was actually more worried about ripping my Gore jacket) I somehow managed to twist from my core to go straight down, landing safely on one knee but feeling poleaxed from suddenly tensing a whole bunch of muscles, particularly those around my groin.

As I approached Wolstonbury from the south, my aim to claim it for the Fosters was thwarted as I found a small boy sitting resolutely atop the trig-point.  He was guarded by a plucky younger sister twirling around so I retreated, gracefully.

The view from the top of the north slope was breathtaking, even on a misty day and their mother was able to clearly point out to me where the path led to the north.

Getting down the steep grass slope was hard work, feet searching for grip and legs pumping to absorb the descent and harder still when I reached the slippery mud further down, but it took only moments.  Having stopped for a pee, negotiated a bunch of little wooded paths and deeply mudded tracks and finally reached the road, I took the next photo only ten minutes after the last.

I then ran on and finally managed to find Danny House.  It really is an awe-inspiring place.

A compass might not have gone amiss at this point, as, hoping for the most direct route back (I was already knackered) I ended up on the Brighton Road approaching the Hurstpierpoint church from the south.  Cutting east through Hurst was interesting, looking at all the dwellings that have been shoehorned into this charming little village.  The rest of the run, north to Hammonds Mill Farm, then dog-legging north east to the railway bridge and back along the railway, was hard work… I seldom stop when I’m running but I had to stop twice in the last 20 minutes.

14.1 miles took me 2 hours 35 minutes, a dismal 5.45mph, but I really enjoyed the challenge of the run and Wolstonbury is well worth trying to storm again, if only for the view!

PS.  If anyone lost a pair of sheepskin boots on Saturday night, this is where they are.