It seems the number eight has always played a major part in my life.
I was born on the eighteenth day of the eight month.
As a fitness instructor i was given the name “just eight more” because as my pupils finished a set I would pipe up “just eight more” to a chorus of groans from the class.
This weekend was marathon number 8
I was delighted by my number 986 which coincidentally reads the same upside down!
I finished the marathon in 4:08:22 , which was 8 minutes short for qualifying for next years London marathon.
My trainer size? You’ve probably guessed it by now….. 8
On the 28th day of this month I would have run everyday for 28 months and my tracker informs me that today is run streak day 848.
Now I’m not one to gamble but if I was to buy a lottery ticket right now I would probably insist on it having the number 8 in it!
I will leave you with this thought ….
“Are you convinced by the power of 8? ( Which of course contains 8 words)
Just over a month ago I laced up my trainers for the first race of 2018.
I had decided to start the year with a nice easy 5km to break myself in………
Ok, I admit it was a little pre meditated . Le Parc Paysager is no stranger to me. In 2017 I successfully gained a new PB for the 10KM. Running, asthma and stitches..
This year I wanted to test my 5KM distance and perhaps try for a new PB.
Knowing this 10KM was a qualifying race for club runners I decided to launch myself into the 5KM in the hope of gaining myself a podium position. The psychology behind this being that all the decent runners would be signed up for the main race , leaving the field open in the shorter distance.
Well………………
First mile, new mile PB 7.36
Second and third miles 8.08 and 8.04 respectively. Not too shabby for a Granny, but not a PB for me.
Imagine my delight when the results went up and I gained podium position for V2F!
My prize? Nothing too exciting ! A pack of biscuits and a bottle of wine.
Not red wine, but then again I run equally well on rosé.
Don’t get me wrong I’m not mocking it. Its taken me fifty years to win something and demonstrate for my age I’m actually in quite good shape!
The weekend continued with its winning streak when I stepped on the scales for my Monday morning weigh in.
1,2,3, I dared to look down at the digital display…..
Whoop!!! 1lb off and finally not just at goal weight but under goal weight. Happy dazz!
So as another week closes ,I will raise a glass to winning weekends, long may they continue.
The reason for my absence? None other than sheer laziness! I just lost that desire to write it’s as simple as that, and life just took over.
So here I am on a February afternoon sat in-front of the keyboard contemplating what to say. I have no antidotes or funny stories to tell you. I’m just a girl with a computer inviting you to take a look inside my uneventful life.
I suppose the one constant in my life is that I still run everyday. Today is day 780.
I wont lie, there has been days when I’ve wanted to call time on the run-streak. A silly obsession, my ‘raison d’être’ call it what you will, but it gives me a reason to get out of bed every day.
Another constant, I’m still marathon training. This year I hope to bring my total to 10 marathons, the first in no less than 8 weeks.
La nouveauté ? I’ve joined Weight Watchers.
Every year around Christmas , I gain on average 7lbs, and every year it takes me until at least Easter to lose those said pounds! Well not this year!
Encouraged by a good friend who is also a coach I decided to take the bull by the horns and sign up for a promotional 3 months.
Well I can say that I haven’t been disappointed! Currently I am half a pound from goal without too many changes to my daily life. And the best thing?
” NOTHING IS FORBIDDEN” ……….. as long as you track it!
With the Weight watchers App everything is made simple, you can even scan bar codes and create your own recipe.
I want wine….. I have wine!
I crave chocolate…….I have chocolate!
I need online support…… it’s there!
As I am blogging away my phone has just pinged and I take a minute to read the message.
“A recipe for you to try”
It seems they are never off duty at Weight Watchers . Great support just when you need it the most. My friend has just sent me a new idea for chicken.
Almost two years after my first blog I am sat at my desk compelled to write a post , not about a race but about how I feel.
In the last two weeks the BBC have been airing a documentary to raise awareness about mental health and the charity “Heads Together”, the official charity of the 2017 London marathon.
Essentially the programme focuses on a group of 10 unlikely runners, living with different mental health issues. They are half-way through their London Marathon training , the ultimate test of mind over matter. As viewers we get to see their incredible journey , their highs and their lows, their tears and their frustrations.
Nick Knowles the TV presenter sums the programme up in his tweet ; it’s about everyone and the need to understand the feelings of others.
Sobbed the whole way through. So humbled & honoured to have run the same VMLM as these amazing people.
Like Rebecca Howells I basically sobbed my way through the two episodes.
Right back in my first blog How did that happen? I touched on the subject of why I began running again, but I didn’t feel brave enough to open up about it. Today I feel different, time is a great healer. When Beckie died from terminal cancer in 2013 I asked myself how do you continue to carry on? A dear friend gave me this gem of advise
” You carry on living until you start to feel alive again”
I often think of her words and they comfort me when times are bad.
I should have been able to protect her, I should have been able to make it go away and as parents it leaves you with an overwhelming sense of losing control. Cancer was the stronger opponent. We were defeated in the battle.
In the weeks following her death my only release from the grief was to run. Desperately trying to stay strong for my husband, and to help him through his own grief, I would leave the house and the tears would be flowing before I was out of the gate. Allowing the grief to pour out uninhibited was a great relief and comfort to me.
Without the solace of running, I don’t know if I would have been strong enough to bring both myself and my husband out the other-side.
So many parts of the documentary opened wounds that had laid dormant within me.It made me realise that you don’t experience a trauma in life without some battle scars. Scars that shouldn’t be hidden, and ignored.
When Rhian finished the 17 mile run from her house to Cardiff hospital, I sobbed with her. Than incredible journey was so poignant for her, and a part of the healing process.
When I finished Brighton Marathon just 5 months after Beckie had died, I sobbed. You have to make that journey in order to move forward. For me completing a marathon was about celebrating her life, and another step in the healing process. I will never think of Brighton without thinking of Beckie.
Pause for reflection
Not everyone will understand why you need to run or your journey. But that’s ok. We are all different and we should embrace those differences.
Whilst the programme was being shown I received a tweet with mixed emotions asking me if I realised how lucky I was to be able to run everyday. Like all addicts I am dependent on my next fix . My name is Julie and I need to run . It’s as simple as that.
I count my blessings that I can run everyday , but it’s not a gift. I run everyday because I’ve learned to see the glass half full and not half empty, and I’ve made the choice for my own well being .A 10 minute run can lift your spirits but you have to make the first step on the journey. You also have to realise that not every run is a race. Learn to appreciate your surroundings and the pure pleasure of being outside. Life is not a sprint to the finish , it’s an experience to be enjoyed.
Poppy particularly touched me when she opened up about her feelings. She just wanted her family to see her achieve something in her life. We all at some time seek acceptance from our family and friends. To see her joy at the finish to be greeted by her sisters and niece was priceless. A bittersweet contrast to Rhian who would have loved her husband to see what she had achieved and how she has started to turn a corner . I know you never get over losing a child but losing a child and your partner in the space of a week is unimaginable.
They are all micro stories within a bigger story that we can all identify with. I don’t have a mental illness, or PTSD but I have suffered grief and I can identify with many of the emotions experienced by the runners.
If you missed the documentary I urge you to find it on player. You don’t have to be a runner to appreciate it. As Nick Knowles sums it up:
“Mind over Marathon is not for those with mental health issues , it’s for everyone – someone you care about needs understanding”
Take the time to understand them.
Life is precious, make it count, be that person that makes the difference.
Since my ultra in October I’ve been slowly and steadily beavering away working towards my Spring Project. Then like a bolt of lightning a sudden injection of adrenaline finds me ramping up the action at a club 10km.
Having done zero speed work for six months, I was feeling slightly apprehensive. I had built some speed sessions into my training during the previous 2 weeks,, but I was only kidding myself into believing that this was going to make a difference to my performance. I’m a endurance athlete, #fact, and it’s probably fair to say I have a love hate relationship with anything under a 9:30m/mile.
So why on this glorious sunny February afternoon, did I find myself signed up for a 3 lap 10km? One thing I hate more than fast races, are races that involve laps. Sometimes I really have to question my sanity.
The local clubs were out in force for the Parc Paysager annual run at St Nazaire. The main events being the 5 and 10km followed by the children’s races.
I pitched up early enough to pick up my number, and to catch the start of the 5km so that I could cheer on my training buddy Jean Yves. When questioned why he wasn’t signed up for the 10km, he simply replied
“I’m too lazy”
Honesty at its best! I was secretly wishing I had been lazy too! Why can’t I take the easy option? I appear to have “crazy”as my default setting!
Jean-Yves
I duly watched him complete his lap and a half of the parc, before it was time for me to line up. Having run this race in 2016, I knew what to expect. If the wind was off the sea , the seafront stretch would prove to be challenging. The race has a strange start line, well it has two! When the gun goes off you need to start your Garmin even though the timing map isn’t for another 200 metres. Thinking I had run a really fast time last year I was devastated to find I was 200 metres short. Not a mistake I was going to make a second time,
The gun cracked into the air at 3pm, and we were off. My game plan was to run an average pace of 8:10. Whether I could maintain this over the 6 miles would be a different matter. I had done no speed work since last August! It was a slow start as we were tightly bunched , but as we spread out I eased into my pace, crashing through the first mile far to fast at 8;00 min/mile. Switching from my usual 10 min/mile to this I have to admit was quite a shock to the lungs!
I completed the first lap in an average pave of 8:07, spurred on by the cheers of my support team, but it didn’t feel comfortable.As I hit the seafront I remember thinking still two laps to go. I wasn’t enjoying it . By lap two my pace had slipped to 8;09, and my support team had got louder. Fellow runners turned to see what all the fuss was about! I dug deep but I knew I wouldn’t hold the pace. At 9km the lead vehicle ushered us to the right as the eventual winner sped past us like a gazelle. 1km to go and my breathing became more of an exhausted pant. I finished in 51:35 at an average pace of 8:12, not what I had planned, but a new 10 secs PB.
New PB
Grabbing a few orange segments, I caught up with support team, delighted to hear that the kids had entered into the next races.
First to take their places in the 1km were Ethan and Mael. In next to no time they were back with Ethan finishing very strong and fifth in his age group. Worryingly there was no sign of Mael. We watched the last runner finish, and still no sighting so my husband started to walk the course in reverse.
During all this confusion Stephanie was now due to line up , so it was back to the start with still no news of Mael (or my husband.)
The gun fired and they were off. We crossed over into the parc to watch their progress. A familiar figure strode towards me. Mike had found Mael on the other side of the parc,.He was with his mother. The poor lad had suffered an asthma attack and was going to the AE to be checked out.
2/3 of the children accounted for, but where was Stephanie? I was sure she hadn’t passed me whilst I had been chatting.The kids streamed by, and then I saw a lone figure walking. I knew even from that distance that she was in trouble. I jogged across and the marshal explained she was suffering with a stitch.
Grabbing her hand, I told her we would finish together. The crowd was amazing, calling her name cheering her on and giving her the encouragement that she needed to cross the line.
“Une petite anglaise, Elle s’appelle Stephanie” boomed from the tannoy.
She beamed as she heard them clapping, and despite the stitch she crossed the line head held high. It’s so important in this generation of smart phones and tablettes to encourage our children to appreciate the great outdoors . It doesn’t matter how slow or fast you run , you are still lapping those sat indoors on the couch.
With the first race of 2017 done, the hunt for the next challenge is on, although this time I ‘m hoping it but a little less chaotic!
I’s been almost 2 months since my last blog, so I guess it’s time to stop hibernating and share a little of what’s happened over the Christmas and New Year period.
The biggest and most unexpected news came on Christmas Eve, call it a very early present from Santa.
If you recall in my last blog I wrote
“I passed streak day 300., and I managed an annual appearance at Eastbourne Park run. Still the elusive sub 25 mins escapes me, but it really isn’t a big deal” ( 2016 the birth of an ultra runner)
Well it appears that all good things come to those that wait. I pitched up on a chilly Saturday morning ready to have a new stab at my nemesis, without even a thought for a PB. Less than a minute after the start I had to pull over and re-tie my laces, so the cards were stacked against me. Imagine my surprise when I later received this text message:
“Eastbourne parkrun results for event #263. Your time was 00:24:28. “
That’s a whole 41 secs quicker than my previous best time.
Thank you Santa!
Of course in life there are good days and bad days, and the bad manifested it’s self the day after Boxing Day. Like 90% of the population I was stuck down by a flu-like virus that not only knocked me for six, but also left me with a hacking cough.
That put paid to the running then I hear you say?
Well no.
In hindsight I should have stopped and rested. Maybe if I had heeded this advice, I would not be still suffering 4 weeks later. Like they say “hindsight is a wonderful thing!” I continued the running streak, just doing the minimal of miles to keep ticking over.
On New Years Day,I was feeling at a particular low ebb .
2016 Had been full of challenges and achievements and in comparison 2017 felt pretty damn flat. So when the chance presented it”s self to enlist in Steve’s Army I took it with open arms.
Steve’s Army is a band of Twitter buddies that have come together in the pursuit of fitness. The Commander-in-Chief Steve, finding himself on the injury bench rallied the troops into a 31 day press up challenge. How hard can that be I asked myself?
Well I tried 1 full press up on my toes and it was extremely ugly! From there in I was forced to adopt the feminine on knees box press up. Steve’s challenge was to perform 10 press ups per day, adding another 10 each week until the month ended. Steve held a role call every day where the troops needed to check-in and log their reps as done. Highly motivational, but as we reached 40 reps a day I started to lose the will to live.On a positive note,I was liking the new-found definition in my arms.
As January drew to a close, I suggested a February Tricep dip challenge, and that’s where we find ourselves today.
Some of the more dedicated troops are still pressing as well as dipping, but having had my fill of press ups, I’m quite content to stick with the dips!
More importantly, the fact that checking in with our leader has made me stick to the program, something I would otherwise abandoned within a few days. Already a week into February, I am thinking ahead to the March Challenge.
Commander-in-Chief Steve, I salute you, thank you for the motivation, and I hope you are off the injury bench soon!
As 2016 draws to a close, it’s time to reflect on my year , the good , the bad , and the ugly!
To be fair, it’s been a good year, injury free, and with some important life lessons learned.
* I’m stronger than I ever believed I could be.
*I’ve learned to be true to my self, and not sacrifice who I am just to please others.
*My dream is exactly that.. ” My Dream” , not somebody else’s.
*Forget the PB , life is a journey and the adventure is there to be enjoyed.
*Embrace off-road running,it may be slower, but the experience is richer.
2016 started with two important resolutions :
To run streak through January , and to win my ultra runner wings.
As I write this , I am just 10 days away from my first streak anniversary. What started as a simple New Year challenge, snowballed into 2 months, 6 months and finally let’s do a whole year!
Interestingly my run streak evoked mixed reactions. My husband, once skeptical that I was pushing myself too far, is now my biggest motivation. On the rare day that I am not feeling the love for my trainers, it’s him that provides the inspiration. He reminds, me that I will be out and back within 10 minutes, by which time there will be a brew ready and waiting.
On social media,there are the staunch supporters who encourage and congratulate, and those who have been not so supportive, believing it to be idiotic, and not good for you.
My answer to this is : “It wouldn’t pay for us all to be the same, every person is unique and this is what gives us our individuality “
If you were to ask me what have I gained from this experience, I would reply.:
“I am 100% convinced that without the discipline of the run streak challenge, I would never have achieved my ultra dream. In long distance running it’s a fact that your head gives up long before the body, and many DNF are due to the voices in the mind , as opposed to lack of miles in the legs. I’ve always been stubborn , but I credit my ultra wings not just to my physical training, but to the mental strength I developed over the year.”
So how did I become an ultra runner?. I guess the overwhelming factor was that I WANTED to be one, coupled with a little bit of training along the way!
January
27 hours, 162 miles.
With my main focus on marathon preparation, I took a complete week off in December 2015, to rest and repair my body. Throughout January there was a shift towards more weekly mileage, and the all important long runs.
February
30 hours, 177 miles.
The mileage continues to increase. In the last week of the month I introduced double day training, to embrace the feeling of running on tired legs. I entered a local 10km, and surprised myself, with a new PB. This is not my favorite distance, nor am I a speed machine, but a little bit of pace from time to time , helps keep the legs fresh.
March
31 hours , 201 miles.
Mega mileage March! I’m in full marathon mode now! Double days every weekend became the norm, finishing the month with a 90 minute granny plod!
April
18 hours, 114 miles
One word! TAPER!
I reached and passed 100 days of streaking, proving to all the Doubting Thomas s that you can streak through taper! I won’t bore you with the details of Brighton Marathon, you can find the full blog here. What I will say is, I did PB, and this was the point in my life I realized that I didn’t want to continue with running road marathons. Strangely enough, I didn’t have this epiphany until much later in the year, but it was Brighton that made me realise, that this wasn’t my destiny. Most of my running friends have their Spring 2017 marathon booked. Not me. Not this time.
May
20 hours, 131 miles.
May was the birth of trail running. I entered 2 local races. Luckily I wasn’t put off by the first race, where I literally was “Lost in France”. I learned that off-road running uses entirely different muscles to road running! By the end of the month I had celebrated streak day 150, and marathon training had started again!
June
19 hours, 119 miles
June was relatively quiet on the running scene. Work commitments called for clever juggling of my time, but I did manage to squeeze in a local race “Race against the tide”. Definitely the most quirky race of 2016, on a course that quickly becomes submerged as the tide rises.
July
25 hours, 149 miles
I passed 200 days of streaking, I was back on double day training, and I discovered the dreaded beach stairs! My next marathon was looming , but my long-term training was fixed on the ultra, so with this in mind , my weekly training now incorporated stairs! Over the next three months I had an intimate and long- term relationship with a certain set of beach stairs!
August
28 hours, 160 miles
I look at this month in amazement! How did I find the time to train? I turned fifty , and the celebrations lasted the whole month, coupled with a 10 day visit from the grandchildren. Just proving where there’s a will there’s a way! You have to WANT it , and be prepared to invest your time in it!
I ran two local races in August, a 5km which included those killer beach steps, and the annual sand dune run. The latter was horrendous. 7pm at night and it was still 33 degrees at the beach. I just remember with each lap in the sand I got slower and slower , hotter and hotter, my spirits only lifted slightly as my grandchildren called after me to hurry up! I said never again, but I know I’ll be up for it again in 2017.
September
22 hours, 133 miles
Marathon number 5, which never really came with a taper , as the ultra was now just 7 weeks away.
Another extremely hot day, 30 degree heat for my second Medoc Marathon.
I learned a lot about myself during this race. I had trained, I was ready, it should have been a good race, and it was, but not in the way I had imagined it. My team mate had suffered an accident two weeks before the race, leaving her with severely crushed and bruised ribs. She had been told by the doctor not to run, but only chose to tell me this vital information after the race. By 10km, she had clearly had enough, but wouldn’t give in. At half way and over 3 hours in I urged her to pull over, but she insisted on continuing. My frustrations must have been clear as we were now walking more than we were running. She told me to carry on and leave her. Maybe the old me would have done this, but I couldn’t find it in myself to abandon her. Six and a half hours later, we crossed the line together . I feel more proud of my act of unselfishness, than the fact I had completed marathon number 5. This is what I mean when I say the journey is an adventure to be enjoyed.
Marathon number 5
October
28 hours, 156 miles.
I dreamed a dream, and that dream became a reality. The month started with a warm up to the ultra in the form of the 1066 trail run, 17 miles across the Sussex countryside, following in the footsteps of William the Conqueror
1066 Way trail race
The clocks went back for winter, and the same weekend I took to the Scottish Borders for the eagerly anticipated Three Peaks Ultra. I wasn’t disappointed, it was all that I dreamt of and then some! This will always hold a special place in my heart, and in the same way that music can evoke an emotion, just looking at the photos rekindles a special euphoria that was created that day. This was a magical moment that will live with me forever. On reflection, I wouldn’t like to do it again , because I want to remember it exactly how it was,. The highs, the lows, the tears , the laughter. Perfect in every way..
Photo credit to Patricia Carvalho.
November
15 hours, 96 miles
After the build up to last months ultra, poor old November was a dull contrast!
I passed streak day 300., and I managed an annual appearance at Eastbourne Park run. Still the elusive sub 25 mins escapes me, but it really isn’t a big deal. What 2016 has taught me is, to be happy with who I am , and my own capabilities. I’ve learned to like the runner that I’ve become, and to accept myself for what I am. Imperfections are just part of your DNA.
Theres not much to say about December, I’m having a well deserved rest in the winter sun, my daily streak just keeping my legs ticking over until the next big challenge.
Always believe in yourself, no dream is outside of your reach, I am living proof of this!
The alarm is set for 5.30am, but I’m awake long before this.
I always find it stressful trying to sleep the night before a race, but I’ve managed 6 hours sleep, and I’m buzzing with adrenaline.
The bag man rolls over muttering something about it being silly o clock, so I leave him to it and go in search of breakfast. I’ve learned over time, that eating light is the key if I am to finish without any tummy issues. My favoured race breakfast is rice pudding, and today was no exception except I also added a fruit scone for good measure.
My kit as always had been laid out the night before, along with my drop bags and my donation to the food bank. Yes, you read the last part correctly. Part of the race briefing stipulates runners must bring a donation for the House of Bread Food Bank. What a fabulous idea. Charity begins at home. I applaud the race organisers for this initiative.
I’m fully dressed when the bag man makes an appearance.
“Is that what you’re wearing today” he asks
I glance at my kit, compression socks, charity vest, and shorts.
Immediately on the defensive I reply “Yes, why?”
“Oh nothing” he replies.
Running for St Michael’s Hospice
What to wear had been a hot topic all week. Shorts or long legs? I knew it would be cold in Scotland, so I had thought maybe I’d run in my tights. Then on reflection, I remembered the last race I did in tights, I got so hot and bothered. To cut a long discussion short, (no pun intended) I opted for my shorts. Now here he was, sowing a doubt in my mind!
Tant Pis as we say in France, I’m running in shorts!
At 6.45am we ventured out into the dark. I remember looking up to the sky and marveling at the stars. The lack of light pollution allowing them to shine brightly down on us.
Arriving at Race head quarters, I picked up my number, disposed off my drop bags and joined the excited throng of runners in the clubhouse. Then the realisation that this was really happening, and it was happening today!
7.45am the long-awaited race briefing, of which I can remember just two things:
“Don’t be a dick!”
“Don’t be an earphone twat”
Angela if you’re reading this I want to reassure you I was neither!
Coming out of the clubhouse I was amazed to see that it was already daylight. In fact it was a beautiful autumnal day. We crossed the road onto the grassy knoll, I kissed my bag man goodbye, and before I knew it we were off.
I was running with my buddy Keely. Our pledge to become ultra- marathoners together. We were going to stick to each other like glue for the next 38 miles.
Jedburgh to Maxton 10 miles
I hardly noticed the first couple of miles, as we were chatting away. We settled into a comfortable 10.30 pace at the back, and just enjoyed the scenery. The leaves were a mix of russet and golden tones, and they made that delicious crunchy noise underfoot.
Around 2 miles came the wobbly bridge. Keely had already warned me that she didn’t like bridges……….
The runners at this point were still quite closely packed, which meant a lot of runners on the bridge at the same time. Cue a lot of wobbliness!
I turned to Keely, but before I had even turned, I heard;
“Oh I don’t like it!” , or in Geordie ;
“Eeh man , I dint like eet”
She was extremely brave, making it to the other-side, but there again, there was very little choice!
This part of the course took us through woods and fields, over stiles, and knarely tree roots. At one point I heard Keely sniggering behind, as she watched me dance from side to side down a narrow path. Finding it a struggle for my size 7 feet, I adopted a kind of slalom side to side technique, which must have looked quite strange to anyone following!
Around mile 8 , came the mud! I’m a girlie girl, I don’t do mud. I watched in amazement as runners launched themselves straight in. I call this the “No Fear” approach. Some succeeded,and some as Keely witnessed, simply slide to the floor!
My self , I adopted two strategies:
#Hug the fence
#Wide leg straddle.
When the fence ran out I simply straddled the mud, causing a back log of runners behind me, but I got to the bottom without incident! Apologies for being selfish and holding you up!
The final few miles were downhill and into Maxton to the first checkpoint where our respective hubbies were waiting. So far so good, 10 miles in the bag, an av pace of 11.20 and 40 minutes ahead of the cut-off time.
Maxton to Rhymers stone 7 miles
One word, stairs, stairs and more flaming stairs!!
Stairs, stairs and stairs
This leg was short, but it was tough! I had been prepared for stairs after several exchanges with other runners on social media. I had trained every week at the beach , running up the same stairs where our local fire service train, but still the legs protested! When we weren’t doing stairs, there were some beautiful flat paths along the Tweed, which had to be seen to be believed. After the golf course, we climbed the hill and I caught my first view of the Eldons. I think this was around the 13 mile mark. Simply stunning.
Stunning is a word I’ve used a lot during the past week, when referring to my Scottish adventure.
We crossed the main road, aided by the marshals, and I had to laugh as one marshal said
” If you run quick girls you can get across now”
Quick!! By this time quick had been erased from my vocabulary.!
We ran (semi) quick, and was rewarded by a jelly baby!
I would like to add at this point, and it was echoed in another race blog, that the marshals were absolutely fantastic. A cheery, friendly, helpful bunch of souls, who clearly were having as much enjoyment as the runners. Thank you to each and every one of you, for helping me, feeding me, and cheering me on. You put the richness into this experience, the icing on the (cup)cake.
Checkpoint 2 was at Rhymers stone, and it was here that we saw the first peak, looming high above us. My husband pointed out the runners , little ants in fluorescents barely visible in the distance. Keelys face said it all.
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
You have to be kidding!
We had made the check point ahead of the cut off time, and before we headed for the hills I reminded my husband that I needed cupcakes! Ultra runners need cake. Fact! If he forgot to stop in Melrose, his life wouldn’t be worth living!
Miles 17 to 23.
Otherwise known as the Three Peaks.
Oh my goodness, I didn’t know peaks that steep existed! How the first lot of runners , ran up here is beyond comprehension. It was all I could do to keep going, and stay upright. I left Keely behind as I dug deep, focusing on the terrain, not daring to look up. I chatted to other runners, occasionally pausing to take in the view (as well as some air).
When I reached the first peak it was sheer elation. I took it all in with delight as I waited for Keely to join me at the top. One down two to go! A group of ramblers cheerfully pointed out our pink marker , and we were into our first descent, and passing the mountain rescue vehicle.
Peak two although not as steep, proved challenging in its own right. A little less mud, but now some rather large rocks had been thrown into the equation. A runner past me on his descent, nothing to do with the race, waving as he went. I marveled at how sure-footed he was.
I reached the peak, and was surprised at how windy it was. I waited for Keely to join me and then I took centre stage. I had always said on my charity page that when I conquered the second peak, I was going to sing ” The hills are alive “. I didn’t disappoint! No one actually witnessed this, but the runners below certainly heard, as when they reached the summit they asked who was singing! They were gracious enough to refer to it as singing and not a cat being strangled.
The descent was torturous.At one point I couldn’t go forward for laughing so much. I was pussy footing around like a ninety year old afraid of falling on the shingle. My ego was dented further as “Where’s Wally” flew past me like a gazelle, leaving me for (chalk) dust.
In comparison, the third peak was really enjoyable! Equally enjoyable was the downhill stretch to Bowden and check point 3.
In the distance I saw 2 familiar shadows. Our husbands had pitched up unexpectedly to cheer us on. Laughing my husband said;
” Wait til you see whats around the corner”!
There, built into the course was an adventure playground. I had seen it on social media, and thought it was a joke. No, it was for real! My husband told me later that a lot of runners complained about this. I thought it was fun, and it took my mind off the remaining 15 miles. I entered into the spirit of things, climbing up, and coming down the slide grinning ear to ear.
Rocking the play park
Bowden to Maxton
The 5 miles to Maxton were hard, I can’t put it any other way. It was the return of the stairs, Keely was suffering with her hips, and I was applying pressure to make the check point before cut off. My Garmin died at 26 miles, which was probably for the best, as I could no longer be fixated by time.
Beautiful shot of the Tweed.
Along by the golf course we picked up Paul and chatted for a while. This was one of many encounters with Paul over the remaining 12 miles.
Check point 4, we were in the last runners, but ahead of cut off, we could relax. The marshals were brilliant. No one left here until they had assessed that you were fit and well and able to continue. This professionalism was a common thread throughout the day.
Maxton to Jedburgh
By the time we left Maxton church we were walking, and our strategy was one of walk/run for the final 10 miles. We could see no one in front of us, for all intent and purpose we were alone!
Back up the muddy slope, hugging the hedge, or straddling the path, this time no runners back log behind me. Stile after stile. Each stile more painful than the previous as my legs refused to lift off the ground. I do believe that I came down one stile on my bum! Through the woods, checking in again with the rescue team, assuring them we were both ok, and on to the road crossing where they informed us just 2.7 miles to go!
The wobbly bridge not so wobbly with just us two lightweights upon it. Through a field, where I chatted to the sheep for a little entertainment, and then a familiar figure. Hello Paul!
Paul joined us for the final 2 miles, and I took on the role of an army drill sargent He kindly refers to me on social media as Sargent Scott now! Runners are great, friendship born between strangers who become bonded together by a common thread. The love of our sport.
I coaxed them to run between lamp posts ,rewarding them with a brief walk stop for each achievement. Every time an already finished runner passed in their car, they tooted and waved, unspoken runner words , signifying their support . We waved back madly, our spirits lifting just a little more with every honk on the horn. Thanks guys, you were just what we needed right at that moment.
When I saw the finish line ahead, I remember screaming at Keely and Paul;
“Come on!! We’ve done it ”
Come on! Run!
I grabbed Keely by the hand and literally pulled her over the line
9 hours 50 minutes.
It was never about the time, it was about realising our dream, and here we were at dusk on an autumn evening. ultra runners. Keely had packed two wonder woman capes for the finish line, but she couldn’t summon up the strength to get them out off the backpack. It didn’t matter, we crossed the line as wonder woman , we didn’t need a cape to cement our new status.
Wonder women!
I still find it heard to believe, and for a while we were dazed by it all.
“We only went and did it. ” I don’t know how many times I repeated that during the evening.
Back at the clubhouse, the last of the runners were relaxing, it didn’t matter that the main crowds had dispersed we got a heroes welcome. Sharon handed us soup , and a buttered roll, and congratulated us on our achievement. I had met her the previous evening , as I was streaking round the campsite. Just to clarify I wasn’t naked! I was run streaking! Just one of the wonderful volunteers , that I met over the weekend.
Angela, Noanie, you put on an amazing event. Memories like this will last with me forever, memories that I will record and leave as my legacy to my grand children.
Remember…..
The dream is never to big,
Never let anyone tell you , that you can’t do something.
Your destiny is in your own hands.
Live, Laugh, Love .
No people were hurt in the making of this Ultra runner …. not even Paul and Keely.
Would i do it again?
Do you really need to ask!
Cheeky little PS…..
If you enjoyed the blog please consider leaving a £1 donation for the hospice.
If you are going to dream, then make it big is my motto, and they don’t come any bigger than a 38 mile ultra in the Scottish borders!
I was still in euphoria after my third marathon in 2015, and the little voice inside my head was taunting me, massaging my ego, leading me to believe “More is in you”
Just 12 days later, I sent an email to the race organizer, inquiring about the Three Peaks Ultra in Jedburgh. The rest is history as they say.
When I told my husband what I was planning, he rolled his eyes, and you could secretly hear him thinking:
“She’s lost the plot”
I sold him the idea of a weekend trip to Scotland, as part of my 50th Birthday celebrations , with a little trail race thrown in. He brought it. Lets face it , he never really stood a chance , my mind was made up. I was going to get my ultra wings before my 51st birthday.
Having never trained beyond the marathon distance, I trawled the internet for various training plans, and decided on a beginners plan , 50k over 16 weeks. This was a little short of my target distance, but the training was intense, so I decided that I would struggle with anything more challenging. I was barely out of the Brighton marathon before training started again.
A typical week, would be 5 runs out of 7, although as I am still streaking I ran everyday, but on the rest day I ran only 1 mile.
Training plan!
Over the 5 days I tackled:
Hill repeats,
1 x 45 min,
2 x 1hr
1x run over 2hrs
I can confess on some weeks, I had to adapt the training, because my body just said STOP!
7 weeks before the ultra, I ran a marathon. Due to the heat, and an injured fellow runner, I was on my feet for 6 and a half hours. This proved valuable experience, and boosted my confidence. I started to believe, that my body could cope with being on its feet for a long period of time. Believe and you will achieve.
A fortnight before the race, I did a 17 mile cross-country trail. This was the point that I accepted as a runner, that not every hill has to be run. There is no shame in walking up a hill. Sometimes it is the best decision.
The week prior to the ultra was a roller coaster of emotions. The week started with tears and self-doubt. I truly believed I was going to fail. Scared beyond belief doesn’t even come close.
We left France on the Wednesday night, flying into Gatwick, where I did a stop-over. The next day we took a flight to Edinburgh, and it was then as we circled over the city to land, and I saw the rolling hills, that a miracle happened. All self-doubt was left in the air, and there became no question that I was going to own this Ultra and the elusive membership would be mine for the taking.
We spent a relaxed day in the city. I treated my “bag man” to a day out at the “Scotch Whisky Experience”. A word to the wise, always look after your long-suffering bag man , you need his invaluable support at the check points
( Even if the check points are “unsupported”)!
The Scotch Whisky Experience
Whilst in Edinburgh I took the opportunity to meet up with an old friend, and we spent an enjoyable afternoon reminiscing about old times, and how I made her run with a stitch which later turned out to be her appendix! Luckily she has forgiven me.
Catching up with Sheila
Late afternoon we hit the road and headed out to Jedburgh where we had booked for three nights. We checked in at our home from home, a holiday camp. Nothing unusual for me as I spend 10 months out of 12 in a mobile home in my capacity as a Holiday Manager.
Our home for 3 nights
Around 3am I was awoken by a horrendous headache, followed by severe vomiting. This wasn’t looking good. In less than 36 hours I was due to start the quest for my ultra wings. I took some tablets, curled up in bed and prayed it would pass. In the back of my mind mild panic had set in as “Gastro” was doing the rounds at work. Please don’t let me be its next victim!
By daybreak I felt fragile, but much better, and I concentrated on rehydrating my body. The plan for the day was to visit the check points on route, so my bag man would be familiar with the area, and then a spot of light lunch with my running buddy @ilovetorun76.
At the second checkpoint we went into the village of Melrose in search of a coffee and stumbled upon a fantastic cake shop. Apples and Jam. If you ever visit this area of Scotland, stop and pay a visit.The coffee is great, and I came away with strawberry and champagne cupcakes, giving instructions to the bag man to come back on race day to pick up more!
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We also made a deviation up to Scotts View.
This is a viewpoint in the Scottish Borders, overlooking the valley of the River Tweed, which is reputed to be one of the favourite views of Sir Walter Scott.
According to a popular story, Sir Walter Scott stopped at this point so often on the way to his home at Abbotsford, that his horses would halt without command. I can confirm that the view is breath-taking. Just one of the many moments that left me speechless over the weekend.
The Three Peaks -Scotts View
Lunch was just a short trip away over the border into England and Northumberland. My running “Bessie” was coming up from Newcastle, so we decided on a pub half way between the two. In fact it was the first pub we saw on the A68 after leaving Jedbough. The A68 really is the wilderness, but stunning none the less.
Crossing into EnglandLadies that lunch
Carb-loading was the order of the day . Lasagne followed by sticky toffee pudding. Any traces of last nights virus had disappeared, I was on form. Race tactics were discussed, meeting times affirmed, and then it was back for an early night , ready to be at race headquarters for 7am.
New York New York (So Good They Named It Twice)! Gerald Kennedy
The same applies to the Medoc Marathon. So good I ran it twice!
2015 was amazing, and 2016 didn’t disappoint. Even the blistering heat and being chased by the sweeper vehicle hasn’t put me off considering a 2017 entry. When my husband whispered to me at 41km, “you have 12 minutes to finish, or you will be timed out” I summoned up all my reserves to get to the finish line. I turned, they was no sweeper in sight. Due to the extreme temperatures that day the cut off had been extended to 7hrs. Happy days!
Running away from the sweeper!
Organization:
As always well-organized from start to finish. Collecting of race numbers is easy, well signposted, and relatively small queues. I was picking up a team entry, and had no wait at all, there appeared to be hardly anyone queuing for their individual numbers.
The race t-shirts this year were bright yellow. Yep you’ll see me coming in that. It’s a good quality technical t-shirt, and I appreciate that they give both male and female fits. I do hate it when a race t-shirt is a mens fit, it’s so unflattering to the female form.
T shirts
Course:
The 2016 course was in the opposite direction to that in 2015. This meant that we got to run down the hill next to Julien Beychevelle this year instead of up it! However believe me this was replaced by some equally challenging uphill stretches.
The terrain was a mixture of tarmac and off-road. This year I chose my trail shoes over my Asics Pulse, and I was glad of this decision. I had a much better grip whilst running through the vineyards. If you know nothing about the Medoc, let me explain that it’s not just about running through chateaux and vineyards, there’s a lot of wine tasting to be done along the way! Running and red wine, two passions in my life.
Vibe:
The theme was Fairytale and Legends. There were hundreds of elves, fairies, gnomes as well as some more original ideas. Some people translated legends into David Bowie, and Abba, which I thought was a really unique take on the theme.
Crowd support:
This is the Medoc! In every village and hamlet, on every vineyard corner, there were people waiting to cheer you on. Food and drink were in abundance, not just from the official stations but from the crowd as well. I was lucky enough to have supporters at 4 and 21km, which really gave me a boost.
Support at 4kmJpeg
The Medoc also allows supporters to follow you on their bikes, although they are not allowed in the chateaux. I rewarded their efforts by running out of the chateaux with goblets of wine. The times that I missed my support crew, I handed the wine to a surprised spectator! I managed to do this successfully without spilling a drop.
Rewarding my husband
Atmosphere:
It’s a party. There is no other way to describe it. No aggression, no pushing people aside, it’s truly about comradeship and having a good time. This is NOT a serious marathon, and if you are a PB chaser, it’s not for you! We passed bands, we passed bagpipes, we even had a little opera this year. I can remember at one point running and fist pumping the air singing along to “We will rock you” by Queen.
Goody bag:
A rose, a backpack, a goblet and a 2008 bottle of Haut Medoc Chateau D’Agassac
Running and red wine a recipe for disaster? 