Long run – Page 19 – Foster Runs

July 27, 2008

Foster walks!

As I headed out of the car park from Jack & Jill and up the hill, so my legs felt heavier than normal and the extreme heat of the day was really apparent.

It is 31 degrees C or 83 degrees F in the cool of my study as I write this and when I put the thermometer on the window sill outside in the sun a little while ago, it registered -40 degrees (both C and F). On my small thermometer, which only goes up to 50 degrees C, this must be a staggering 70 degrees C, or 160 degrees F.

So believe me when I say that it was WARM out there: especially as I hadn’t started at the said car park.

The first fifteen minutes of my run, starting from the house, were leaden-legged, partially due to the fact that I didn’t run midweek. That was due to a strained (what is less than strained? Stressed?) muscle from last Sunday and generally being busy… neither particularly good excuses, but hey. The muscle had healed well, but it was hard-going.

I started to get into the swing of it as I passed Oldlands Mill and dropped down into Keymer. Favouring the shade, I ran along the high street and took the track along the side of the railway to Clayton.

The cricket pitch was full of cars and there were apparently two races being run. In view of the weather, the 5.5 mile run starting at 11am seemed foolhardy, UNTIL I realised that the main event was already in progress. The main event being the one that Mark J has entered and that Cliff ran a couple of years ago… a 30 miler starting with Clayton Hill and stretching right across to Southease, to the north of Newhaven.

And back!

Oh boy! Those guys must be HOT!

The hill out of Clayton was hard work, but I engaged a low gear and made Jack & Jill car park without stopping. Here I walked & chatted to a Burgess Hill Runners marshall (who I think I’ve met before) before commencing my hot run up the hill again.

At the top I stopped to chat to Ray & Marian from Haywards Heath Harriers, marshalls for the short race. Ray seemed to be sporting a rather fetching yellow skirt, but this turned out to be the marshalls plastic vest… he would almost certainly have expired if he had put it on normally! I hope you guys had some water stashed somewhere… you’ll have fried up there otherwise!

As I ran on down the other side, so I passed a whole stream of Burgess Hill Runners out for their Sunday morning jaunt, including Kim’s friend Liz. I hit the Beacon, exhausted, in one hour 20 minutes and then dropped down the path under the road and into the shade.

By the time I reached Ditchling, the gradient was once again against me and I capitulated, walking up Lodge Hill from the church to my favourite house. I then ran along past the Mill again and across the the Keymer Road. Here I HAD to walk, run, walk, run, walk, as far as Folders Lane.

From Folders Lane I ran the rest of the way back, noting that it was NOT my legs that were any more tired than normal, but rather my mind that was the challenge. I had energy, but not the willpower to use it… although, to be fair, I had done pretty well considering the conditions.

It would normally take me 45 minutes to get back from the Beacon this route and today it took me and additional 6 minutes. Two hours, 11 minutes overall, 12.45 miles or 19.95km, makes for a slow slow 5.7mph speed. But if you take out the 5 or 6 minutes I stopped to chat to Marian & Ray, then it would make it 6mph.

And did I mention that it was warm out there today?

July 20, 2008

Chaste

Okay, so it was only a little chase, but the snow-white yap-jack-russell was called Lola and it greatly amused the assembled hikers at Blackcap to see it running along, trying to bite my heels, or scare me away, or say hello, or… maybe it’s Duracell’s were running down and it thought I might have some replacements… I just don’t know. With six strides to each of mine, it quickly tired of the chase, or maybe had a power outage.

Kim had dropped me at Jack & Jill again and whilst I am generally wary of running the same route more than once in short succession, I had decided to make an exception this time as the route was exactly 13.1 miles… the distance of a half marathon.

The wind was from the north today and in common with several days in the last week, varied phenomenally in temperature as the clouds drifted across the sun. Cool, cool wind with the clouds, but when the sun shone it was instantly baking hot. Great conditions for the light aircraft that was gliding on the thermals to the north of the Downs… it passed so close that I could almost reach out and touch it… but not slow enough that my unsteady hand could capture it in the camera frame!

The split times were all exactly the same as last Sunday, all the way to the turning point just beyond Blackcap at 47 minutes. I forgot to check as I passed the trig point at Blackcap on the way back up the hill, on account of my being chased by a large white rodent at the time.

One of the reasons that I hate to duplicate runs is additional pressure it exerts, in two distinct ways. First, you know how far the path ahead is so you can’t just run and enjoy the moment in the same way. The question ‘will I match up to last week’s time’ is foremost in your mind, which adds the the same feeling. Just by running the same route twice, you’re now in a race with yourself!

I couldn’t remember what time I did last week, otherwise at around the 1 hour 35minute-mark I wouldn’t have decided to try to break 2 hours. It wasn’t a decision in terms of ‘must-do’, but rather a vague feeling that I had done last Sunday. Not wanting to be a whole lot slower, I upped the pace where this felt comfortable to do.

There was certainly a subtle difference in how much energy I had, most notably where last week I was flagging by the time I reached the Industrial Estate, I was still running comfortably this time. But I seemed to be losing the battle and the two-hour mark was looming.

As I crossed the railway line I knew I was beat, but I pushed on down the road as if the Bok was in front… trying to find that tricky balance between the best time and actually arriving at all.

I’ve been a little disappointed since arriving home at the eventual time… right up until I checked last week’s blog before starting this one. I didn’t better two hours by two minutes, but I knocked six minutes off last week’s time, with all the gain being in the second half where it can really count. 6.44mph overall, but the first 5 miles to the turn were at 6.38mph, whilst the balance was at 6.48mph… subtle differences, but the last few miles were probably quicker still, as prior to that I was just trucking along.

I shan’t be repeating the exercise next week, but might try it again in a few week’s time to see if I’m improving.

July 13, 2008

Burgess Hill Runners Run

It was the Burgess Hill Runners 4.5 mile run today and as I passed the 3 mile marker, I glanced at my watch. One hour, 54 minutes. Something wasn’t right. I squeezed past a few more people and then… I inhaled a fly. There’s nothing more embarrassing in company and for that matter, audibly disgusting, than trying to hawk up a fly when you can no longer breath, so my apologies to those of you around me at the time.

There was probably a tiny ripple of confusion when I deviated from the path at the next junction, and disappeared. What may not have been obvious from behind was the lack of a running number. And the fact that I had already run about 12 miles.

Kim dropped me at Jack and Jill again today and I ran heartily along to Blackcap, making it there in 40 minutes. Hoping that I might bump into Mark again, I ran a little further to the next gate before turning for home. The climb back to Blackcap is hard work after the easy run down and I left there the second time around the 55 minute mark.

I passed Kim five minutes later, trying to hide from me behind some boy scouts and then, leaving her to continue, dropped down the scarp slope to Westmeston. The route north from there is a Romanesque straight line with the occasional pretty house, one of which even has a ford and a small footbridge.

There was plenty of mud along the route but it still confuses me why there is always a slurry puddle on the corner where you turn left to go west into the woods.

I was running on low energy reserves by this point and I feel the same as I sit here writing! But then, as I crossed the entrance to the industrial estate, I converged with the Burgess Hill Runners route. There is nothing that peps you up more than running with other people and where the next five minutes would normally have been a stagger, I ran easily along. Even after hawking the fly!

Spat back out onto my own, the true energy situation returned and I battled across the common and back up to the house.

The route was a perfect 21 km / 13.1 mile half marathon and my time of two hours eight minutes, whilst not great at 6.14mph, reflected the fact that this was really a gentle Sunday jog.

July 6, 2008

Wind at Mark two

This morning dawned windy and Kim decided that she would run/walk along the top of the Downs to break in her new shoes… and start to get back into the swing of things since hurting her knee skiing earlier in the year. Despite new shoes, I wasn’t really in the mood, but she kicked me out into the ferocious wind at Jack and Jill anyway and off I ran.

The first thing to report about the new shoes is that they feel pretty much like the last ones… which is a good thing. They really are extra light and super comfortable bearing in mind the range of nasty surfaces I run on. My right shoe grazed my left heel a few times and I started to think the soles were spread more than before, until I realised it was the southerly wind blowing my foot across… it really was blowy up there. I had fortunately opted for my Gore jacket this morning and iQ beanie and I really needed both!

I reached Ditchling Beacon in 15 minutes (I’m sure that we used to take 20) and continued east at a good pace. The rain was sporadic at first, but every drop was supercharged by the wind and really stung my bare legs. There was some kind of Horse event on, but it must have been organised by the queen from Alice in Wonderland as they were all going in different directions.

Having reached the Beacon so quickly, my plan was to head for Blackcap so that I could see just how much I had improved… progress certainly felt good. I was busily tromping along, thinking that my pace was now strong enough that I should call Mark Johnson to arrange a long-overdue second run… when there he was, running towards me. SO bizarre!

Deciding that Blackcap could wait for another day, I turned round and headed back towards the Beacon with Mark. We passed Kim on the way, who was still heading out towards Blackcap, and the conversation helped to lessen the impact of the rain, which was starting to increase… or it might have been that Mark was running on the windward side of me! We parted at the Beacon, agreeing to organise another run.

From here I ran down the track underneath the road and despite the stony conditions and exposed roots, I let the brakes off. My normal speed is around 6 or 7mph, but the average for that one kilometer section was 9.375mph… I reckon some of my more intrepid peers could have run down quicker still, but not without being on the raggedy edge!

I dropped into Ditchling and climbed back out up to Oldlands Windmill. I feel really sorry for these guys. They had an open day a couple of months back but it was a glorious day without a hint of wind to turn the sails. The people attending the one today were all huddled in the marquee out of the rain and wind… too much wind to allow the sails to turn!

Heading back towards home, I had to pass a dog-walker with her hood up… I was hoping that she or the dog would notice me approaching from behind as I didn’t want to just run past her in such a narrow space. As it was, neither did and my spoken warning caused her to jump… visibly! Very sorry ‘n all Miss!

The rest of the route home was as uneventful as it was windy and wet, but I finished at an acceptable pace and quickly jumped into the shower before I got cold. The morning’s exertions had netted me 10.5 miles in one hour 35 minutes and had elegantly taken the shine of the new runners, shown below with Kim’s colour co-ordinated and equally wet & mud-splattered pair.

July 4, 2008

Post-rationalisation

If like me, you find creative stimulation in the random juxtaposition of different ideas, then I’m sure you appreciate the FOSTER concept of post-rationalisation. I guess that it could be taken to mean the hard times that inevitably follow when companies are nationalised, or even sending a letter detailing the ratio of n to a dog called Alice (think about it?).

But here I am simply using it as a proxy for catching up of two weeks of missed posts. However, whilst I guess that strictly speaking the term suggests a certain correctness of chronological order, I make no apology for their randomness of time.

So it was that yesterday, after, what, two weeks off, I turned up at Bok Park and donned my runners.

You may remember that last time I ran here, the Bok got us hopelessly lost and I vowed that I would not return until he bought a map. This he had done, and he had also mentally prepared a route for us of about the one hour mark.

Some early banter involved, once again, his old trainers… having bought new ones (pictured above) the last time he was in the States, he has so far only wafted them across in front of my eyes and as this morning threatened a vague shower of rain so they were once again left firmly tucked up in their shoebox.

If I ever see them in action, I think it would be rude of me not to christen them with whatever mud I can find… although I suspect that might involve my blood being spilt in the process!

Anyway, back to reality.

I have no idea which route we took other than there seemed to be some vacillation of our being on and off of the intended course. Off-course was worrying, as I still have tender (as in sore) memories of last time around, but the discovery (make that discoveries, as it happened several times) that we were in fact on route (read: in a place he recognised?), were moments of jubilation.

Would I be giving the outcome away if I said that the title of this post was going to be ‘that’s another fine mess you’ve gotten me into’? Hmmm.

After thirty minutes we had covered 5km on the super-watch-me-satellite-tracker and had, I think, turned for home, but as the hour passed, the end was not nigh. Worse, at various points we were breaking the sort of new ground that explorers would have used a machete to get through. I kid you not!

And I always worry more when the ‘firing in progress’ signs are absent from the signposts, in case they forgot to put them out, or check for trespassing runners, before they started practicing. Even if, in this case, they were only Sea Cadets.

Eventually, having passed a surprised David Bellamy a couple of times in the thicket, we reached a tall fence which was clearly meant to be very effective at keeping people like us out. Or maybe in. That wasn’t clear.

Fortunately, after a little searching, we found the local wildlife had managed to excavate a route underneath and the adrenalin made it easy to slip through. Into what? A deep, but (fortunately) dry gully. In retrospect I am reminded of a computer game, where successfully overcoming each obstacle leads to a new set of challenges. The satellite watch suggested we needed to cross the VERY big and slightly strange field, rather than slink around the edge… so off we set.

Who was more surprised I’m not sure: Nick or the guy with the 4×4 and all the pumping equipment? Whoever it was, it was not me… right then pretty much nothing would have surprised me. Except when I landed from the top the next fence and whilst trying not to end up in the stingers I’d noticed in free-fall, I felt the muscles in my undercarriage soak up the impact!

No matter. the man who was testing the nature of the gas & liquid output from this old landfill site (now a slightly odd looking, very large and surprisingly pretty field) had been very helpful. And most specific with his directions, which encouraged me to ignore the Bok’s renewed sense of direction. The way didn’t look right, but it was perfect and we exited through the one gate onto a road that didn’t entail any further adventures. Unfortunately the road was nowhere near… well anywhere really!

At least the Bok knew the way back and only two things of note stood between us and a very welcome and tasty cup of coffee. First, Mrs Bok phoned me on my mobile to ask a) if we were lost and b) if we needed to be picked up from somewhere. This was said as if it were a regular occurrence. Second, having said that we were very nearly almost back, we got lost in a housing estate!

Just over eleven miles were covered in a pedestrian one hour 54 minutes… what, 5.5mph or so. Actually, bearing in mind how much lost we did, I think that’s pretty amazing!

Does anyone know a good teacher of map-reading to prevent Stanley getting me into yet another fine mess?

June 15, 2008

Nettled!

I knew it was a mistake to tell Clive about the recent article I had read, which said that being stung by stinging nettles cures hayfever.

Anyway, it is fair to say that after the late night before, there was a groggy start to the morning after. Still, despite the forecast of rain for the weekend, it was a beautiful & sunny day, so after the usual banana and quadruple espresso, I donned my ailing runners and got with it.

Aware that it was the day of the London to Brighton Bike Ride, I had devised a rough route that would enable me to enjoy the day, see the cyclists and get back without any real drama. Thus I headed out to Oldlands Mill and down towards Ditchling, hooking a right before I got there and dropping down to Keymer. From there I went straight across the fields to Clayton, arriving by a different path and thus discovering a new way up to the windmills.

Having run up the hill the whole way without stopping, I allowed myself a break to walk through the car park, before resuming my run up the track towards the Beacon. There were lots of walkers, but it was so far just another Sunday. I reached the Beacon in about one hour fifteen and the view was so beautiful that I stopped to take this video.

beacon-view

The London to Brighton Bike Ride crew had set up camp in the car park so I availed myself of the facilities before standing to watch the cyclists mount the last rise. I have a video of this too, but I can’t upload it.

I then set off down the track that I normally come up. An unusual noise alerted me to a cyclist coming down fast behind me and I stood out of the way to let him pass (he wouldn’t have been able to stop at the speed he was going!) and then I loosed off the brakes myself and hammered down. Suprisingly I caught him at the bottom where he had paused momentarily and we had a drag race up the road – I think we were both surprised how hearty my challenge was, although he kept accelerating when I had reached ‘sprint’.

Then it was down to Sporting Cars of Brighton, up East End Lane and north along the Sussex Border Path… where the conversation with Clive came back to haunt me. Waist high stinging nettles mixed with slippery mud and tricky styles soon had whatever hayfever I had left on the run… my legs are still itchy, but it’s not so bad really Clive. You should try it again!

I should mention that last night he recounted a tale of being flung, wearing only shorts, into a large nettle patch when he was young… ugh!

The Border Path is a really tiresome stretch, with its myriad gates and styles and as the two-hour marker passed my energy suddenly waned, like a light going out. I found myself thinking about not peanut butter on toast, but peanut butter and jam sandwiches… serious sugar craving!

I walked, then ran, walked then ran, walked then ran, each time getting nearer to home. I crossed the stream of cyclists again, feeling pretty sorry for these folk who had several miles to go before they even reached the bottom of the killer Beacon hill!

Then I was across the Common and crashing through the front door snarling for food! Not a spectacular time, but the distance was a whiff over a half marathon and out of the two hours 25 minutes, I had spent at least some time looking at the view and watching the cyclists.

The run did take its toll though. Having eaten and quenched my thirst, I fell asleep in a chair for a couple of hours and now, having washed the car (the only other thing I’ve managed to do all day), I’m ready for an early night.

June 9, 2008

Six-thirty start

I woke up at six-thirty yesterday with the sun streaming through the bedroom window and staggered down to where Kim was sitting on the deck, enjoying the last rays of the afternoon sun.

Saturday had been a long day as we had driven up to meet M&D, Debbie & John at Wimpole Hall near Cambridge. I remember when I was younger being bored stiff by this kind of place, but now I find myself interested on any number of levels. We were also fortunate to have Julian, the Curator, follow us around and answering our many questions and he was even more fascinating than the Hall in many ways!

After a delicious bowl of soup and a cream tea in the restaurant, we headed back to D&J’s place for dinner and we eventually tore ourselves away from the conversation to drive home way too close to midnight.

It was pretty amazing then that I was in my runners and leaving the door just after half-nine the next hot and sunny morning. It was a sluggish start, but I just focused on a steady pace and soon got into the swing of it.

Out to Oldlands Mill and through Ditchling where I decided to take an untried path… only in the pretty village of Ditchling could a public footpath be grassed and closely mown like the lawn of a manor-house.

I soon found myself on the familiar route to the Beacon, but with unfamiliar energy levels as I pounded up the steep path. Maybe it was just because the ground was dry, so all my energy was pushing me forwards for a change. Either way, I was surprised to reach the trig point in a mere 52 minutes… although the reason was that I had finally discovered the optimal route at only five miles.

From the Beacon I ran to Jack & Jill where I careered down the hill to Clayton, trying to emulate Richard Askwith’s fell running style without breaking anything! From Clayton there is a path that runs along the railway to Hassocks and I went straight through and out onto the dangerous Keymer Road back home. I’m not a great fan of running on country roads, but it was Sunday and the road was dry so I figured I had a reasonable chance of survival!

The route turned out to be 11.75 miles and I completed it in one hour 55 minutes… back to my normal 6mph speed.

Before collapsing in a heap, I managed to cut the grass, clip the hedge and read for a while in the baking hot sun, but then the weekend caught up with me and the next thing I knew it was six-thirty.

June 1, 2008

Splatter calves

I had a lovely lunch with Cliff the other day and he mentioned that it was the Seaford Half Marathon today… and that you could enter on the day. I don’t suppose he will be surprised that I wasn’t there though. It’s not the fact that it takes £10 of fuel and 1000 carbon airmiles just to start my car. Nor that it would be two 45 minute journeys for a two-hour run. Only that I’m finding it hard to get out of bed at the moment. It’s like my head is full of iron… and my pillow has a magnet in it. Kim eventually successfully threatened me with an origami move.

Once perpendicular (great pictionary word) I downed a banana and a double espresso and headed out the door. It had rained overnight, but was now warm enough for shorts & t-shirt and my goal was to run about a half marathon distance, so that Cliff could only call me a lazy git, rather than a full-blown wuss.

As I ran through to Ditchling Common I realised from the surface mud that the rain must have been heavy and knowing that the route I had considered is tres muddy at the best of times, I went a different way… down Spatham Lane and right into Ditchling.

At the assembled MX5’s of Sporting Cars of Brighton I hung a left and ran up a little stream of water to the base of the Downs… and then upward. A walker that I passed kindly pointed out that there were slower ways for me to reach to top, but though my retort was ‘and easier’, I was actually rather enjoying it. I was reminded of the uphills in the Via Marenca Half… this scarp slope is a small step against that staircase of a climb and if I want to return to make a substantial dent in my previous time, I had better keep going now.

I reached the top of the Beacon almost exactly on the hour mark, not bad for just over six miles, but I was hot and tired. As I stood there, so a rather lively and nervous horse passed by on the path and not wanting to spook it further, I ran the other way towards Clayton. I quickly realised that I was following another runner… game on! Alas, this runner was going at my pace and I didn’t have the energy to close the gap. Eventually she paused to close a gate and I caught up, running on with her for a mile or so to Jack & Jill.

Working for the Health Trust in East Grinstead, she had recently finished her PhD in Pharmacology (or some such) and was training back to fitness… and for a 10k run from Clayton on Wednesday. Rudely, I forgot to ask her name, but good luck with that first hill if you ever read this!

As I left her in the car park, I ran easily down that hill and then opted for the dryer route back… along the pavement! Alas, it’s a long pavement, but eventually it brought me to the outskirts of Burgess Hill where I hung a right to the railway and then took the muddy path to the Station.

Almost home, I had to push hard to keep the time under two hours, but when I got here, there was one minute to spare. I might have finished in under 2 hours, but I had also missed the half marathon distance by 750m, having covered just 12.65 miles. Hey ho! At least I felt better than I have done after the last couple of runs, although I rather think that my legs needed a wash.

May 25, 2008

Cliff top run

Oh boy! I really do have a tough time with technology sometimes. I recently upgraded my various sites to WordPress 2.5, which completely wiped out one of them, which I then had to painstakingly re-create. This is the first time I’ve tried to post with a photograph and talk about rubbish… it is so not intuitive. I’ve actually given up!

Cliff and I set out this morning on a day that promised rain, but delivered increasingly warm sunshine. We hit the hill, making the top in 24 minutes, which, bearing in mind it’s 500 feet of height gain in 2.45 miles, is pretty good going.

We then headed along the ridge, past Firle Beacon (just over 4 miles in 40 minutes) all the way to… well, I actually have no idea as I went off my map again… this time to the right! Getting to be a bit of a habit these days!

At a certain point we headed South and down into a charming little village called Norton, which quite honestly must be a beautiful place to live. I’d show you what it looks like, but I’d probably self destruct trying to upload the photos again.

As we dropped down into the village (around 8 miles in 1 hour 15 mins) we stopped running to amble and gawp at the houses… there was no need to do this ‘leg-wise’, yet when we started to run again my legs felt like they had been turned to lead. Heavy to the point of having to stop to walk every five or ten minutes. Very strange.

I blamed it on Cliff each time, of course… seeing as how he’s a whole lot older than me an’ all. Poor old dear, kept needing to walk. I had to keep him company, of course!

Anyways, eventually we arrived back at Chez Canine, where I gasped and groaned but eventually made it across the threshold and into a chair! Just over 11 miles in 110 minutes is 6mph, but bearing in mind the terrain and the number of times we walked on the homeward stretch, that’s pretty good going.

Cliff had no Hepworths (I need to write a separate post about the fact that it is now accepted that runners should drink Hepworths Blonde organic beer to recover from a run) in the fridge so we made do with Twinings Earl Grey Tea and Bread Pudding.

PS The weather only improved as the day progressed, which is why I spent the whole afternoon sunning myself in the garden with Kim and Karen. Wonnerful!

May 11, 2008

Blisteringly hot new paths

I’m hoping that by sitting in the cool of my office, writing, my energy will return. For two hours now I have been walking slowly about the house, shallow breath, eating gently, spending a long time in the shower. The latter because I had too little energy to lift the soap.

It has been a beautiful morning, certainly ever since I rose at 7.30am. This may have been a trifle early for a sunday but it gave me a chance to sit supping espresso in the garden, reading at my leisure.

I had made a mistake yesterday, twice walking into town in a pair of old boat shoes and creating, then destroying, the blisters that quickly formed on both heels. I scoured the house for Compeed to no avail, but found some this morning in my depleted first aid kit. What would we do without Compeed?

I set out with one of my vague notions to visit the Beacon, or at least notgo north off the map again! My nose went south along Keymer Road, branching off left towards Oldland Mill and I dutifully followed. I was merrily hoofing along on firm ground when my feet disappeared into a heavily disguised puddle of almost liquid mud and I had to stop to take the picture above.

Once past the mill, I dropped down towards Ditchling but skirted right and across to Keymer. Here I aimed for Clayton and a very kind dog-walker pointed me in the direction of a boggy wood (with the delightful name of Lag Wood) at the point where I thought I was lost. This turned out to be quite beautiful, with a stream meandering its way through and though I initially scoffed at the use of the word boggy, I did indeed manage to find a stretch of deeper mud to splosh through.

Somewhere along the way I passed a glorious house with a statue of a traveller sitting by a pond. Overall quite idyllic.

Once through Clayton, there is a really (really!) steep path to Jack and Jill and I put my legs in low gear and made myself run the whole way…

… and then past and on to the very top of the hill. I took the next photo because you can just see the bright white Oldland Mill facing the Downs, almost in the middle of the shot. I thought it might give a sense of how far I had run. Especially bearing in mind that I was really feeling it by this stage.

From the Beacon, I dropped directly down into Ditchling and back up the lane to Oldland Mill again, where a chap kindly explained the presence of a marquee and assorted paraphernalia. It’s an open day today, so if you act fast, you might still be able to get there while the food lasts. And if the wind blows, which seems remotely possible, they will be letting the sails turn.

The stretch home from there was hard work, but I just kept the legs going, avoiding the odd squishy puddle and then avoiding the cars on Keymer Road. As I stood gasping for air and stretching my muscles out at the front door, so my neighbour emerged, probably to take his family off somewhere for lunch dressed in their summer clothes. They must have thought I was certifiable, standing there in my muddy trainers and shorts… and the recently removed and sweaty t-shirt that I had the dignity to put back on when they emerged!

Overall, it was just shy of a half marathon distance, at 20.5km or 12.8 miles, but I would have won no prizes for the two hours thirteen that it had taken me to complete. Set against the slow pace (5.78mph or 10.4 minutes per mile) was the fact that I explored a whole new set of paths through some very pretty places, did a small chunk of the South Downs Way with its stunning views, had no pain whatsoever from my busted blisters and managed to keep going without the need to walk.

I’m feeling better already!