It's a bit clunky because they don't do a direct link, but if you want proof that I really did it you can go here http://www.marathon-photos.com/index.html Select New Forest Marathon and type in bib no 3341. Legs hardly look like they are moving, but at least I am still smiling!
And don't forget it's still not too late to sponsor me at http://www.for.org.uk/peacerunner
Thanks again for your support.
Saturday, 22 September 2007
Monday, 17 September 2007
Everything Hurts.......But I Feel Fine
We arrived in New Milton on Saturday and after a busy week at work I felt exhausted, headachy and footsore. Why on earth had I signed up for this? And how on earth did I think I was going to get out there and do it the next day? Luckily an afternoon lie down and quick walk to the shops blew away the headache, and I dragged myself away from "Heroes" for an earlyish night which did the trick. Sunday morning I woke up not exactly breezy but certainly better than I had felt all week.
The lovely thing about doing this race was Chris' family literally live round the corner, so there was no mad pre-race dash to find the venue and get changed. Just a gentle stroll to the high street and watch the organisers trying to sort out the champion chip technology and see the Marathon runners go off. I was glad I wasn't among them and was feeling very cheery as I waved goodbye to Chris and the children and made my way to the start. In the queue for the toilet I met a very friendly woman called Sara and as we waited for the klaxon sounding the start, all my pre-race jitters went and I began to believe I might just enjoy myself. Before I knew it we were off, I had a fleeting glance of the children and Chris madly waving and we were heading up the High St and out of town. It helped that I had run this way in my practice, so I felt comfortable with the gallop up the hill. My running companion was wanting to go a little fast and so I let her go off and settled into a pace that suited me. "Run on Peacemaker" I thought and wondered how Zoughbi Zoughbi and John Dear were doing.(see previous posts) John has a court case on at the moment, so I hoped he was alright. Before I knew it a mile had flashed past in just under 10 minutes, I didn't feel too puffed, my foot wasn't too sore. This felt easier than I thought it would. But could I keep up the pace?
The sun came out but there was a nice breeze and we were soon racing through Bashley and past the pub where I had turned off in my practice run. I was beginning to get very hot so was grateful when we ran into the woods proper and hit the 3 mile mark and a water station. The forest was beautiful, the trees were tall and elegant, there were quiet glades on either side of the road and I spread my arms out in appreciation of my surroundings. I couldn't help saying out loud "Wow, this is wonderful" and a couple of runners beside me laughed in agreement. I was still running a 10 minute mile pace and felt really comfortable, if I kept this up, I might hit my best case scenario of 2 hrs 15. But it was a long way to go and a big if, so I kept my head down out of the woods, and on to the moorland and up a hill. And boy what a hill. It started gently enough, then got steeper, curved round so you thought you'd got to the top, only to discover it went up some more, turned right and gently sloped up for another half a mile. The only good points were the sun had gone behind a cloud, so it wasn't as hot as it could be, and half way up I saw the place where the Marathon runners had turned off to do their extra 13 miles. At least I wasn't going that far. I was glad I had done all that hill training but it was hard work and to my annoyance I found myself singing a song from a children's story that had been driving me mad all week. "Never Give Up, Never give up, something will turn up, things always turn up" had a very soothing rhythm to it and it really helped. Oh the shame.......
When I was near the top I could see a trail of runners ahead of me, I looked back and there were still quite a lot behind, which was quite encouraging. The sight of all these people running with a single purpose, made me think "Run on Peacemakers" again, if only everyone was running with that thought. And it reminded me that one of these days I might just get round to organising a peace race.Once on top of the moor the sun came out so I was grateful for another water station and oh, blessed relief, sponges. The marshals were really cheerful and encouraging as they always are on these occasions and I ran on much refreshed, as I had been feeling a little sick which is always a bit of a worry. The only downside was half a mile later when I was hit by a desperate need for the loo. I dashed off at a likely spot, wasted precious time looking for a place where I could not be seen and hoped to goodness noone had (now I know how those naked bike riders must feel). When I rejoined the run, it felt like I had slipped quite a bit farther down the pack, but before I could worry about that I was faced with the hill from hell. It was as steep as my steepest local hill which is always hard going, but it felt twice as long. There was nothing for it to keep on upwards, but it was hard work. I overtook a couple of people at the start, but they soon overtook me back and by the time I stumbled to the top the refreshing drinks and sponges were a distant memory. Still, I got to the top and didn't walk so that was something.
The next stretch was across more beautiful moorland and my spirits rose as I knew the half way point was approaching. Soon after I hit 6 miles I saw a herd of New Forest ponies racing ahead, an uplifting sight. To celebrate the moment I pulled out a peace flag and ran with it outstretched till I turned the corner and realised to my delight I was heading homewards. The next stretch was great as I knew the road and another herd of dappled grey ponies were running ahead of me as if in encouragement. But my spirits dipped pretty quickly when I checked my watch and realised I'd slowed down, and then hit a drinks station and realised there were not going to be any sports drinks. I knew I should have checked, but I had foolishly assumed they would be available. Somehow the knowledge that I would have to get home on the strength of my breakfast immediately sapped my energy. And knowing that I had another hill facing me before we turned off to go through the village of Tiptoe, sapped it even more. A brief thought that perhaps I could stop and walk crossed my mind, but I dismissed it instantly. I know me, if I walk that's it, I'll never run again. I had to keep running because it was the quickest way back. But it was tough, and the turning point seemed to take an age. At last it arrived and I realised I was at 8 miles, and there was probably no way I could maintain my early optimistic pace. So it was dig deep time and keep going up another slow hot hill. Everything was beginning to hurt, and my spirits were really flagging, so I took a moment to think about the people in Zimbabwe, in Colombia, in Palestine, in Sudan and Uganda. As I have said before on this blog, it is humbling to know that so many people are willing to work for peace when they risk arrest, imprisonment, intimidation and even death, running a half marathon was a much easier prospect, even if at this particular moment every muscle was screaming.
When I turned the corner I was back on a road that I ran during training, which was great, except I had forgotten how long it was. A couple of people passed me and said, "We're on track for 2.5 hrs like last time" and I realised I had really slowed down. The sun was really hot and I was desperate for another drink, but just as I was beginning to despair, a cool breeze blew up from nowhere. "Breathe on me, breath of God, fill me with life anew" I sang to myself, and somehow I was. And then there was another sponge and water station and I was through Tiptoe and back on the road to New Milton. As I got onto the road I was passed by a truck with a large digital clock saying 2 hrs 20 minutes, which would have been a bit depressing except it was the truck for the Marathon and signalled a super fit athlete passing me by on his way to Marathon glory (2hrs 38 mins apparently, not quite the course record, but still an excellent time). I was quite cheered to see him go past, I find myself simultaneously awed and inspired by these elite athletes, and having run the distance in training, I also knew exactly how far I had to go, 3 miles to be exact.
I was cheerful for precisely a minute, until I realised that for some reason they were letting the traffic through. So the narrow road was suddenly filled with runners in single file and traffic on both sides of the road. OK, so the cars couldn't go fast, but it was absolutely hideous sensing their engines revving behind you and in several places having to scramble out of the way to let them pass. Not the nicest way to finish a race, particularly when it went on for a mile and a half. Luckily when we turned off for Stem Lane, we were directed through a shady footpath which was a very welcome change. The footpath didn't last long, but we were able to run on pavement after that, though it felt very very long. I was starving hungry, my legs were like lead, but knowing I was near the end,I gritted my teeth and kept going. And finally we turned into Gore Road, and there were spectators again. I kept looking out for Chris and the kids and suddenly they were there, so I pulled my peace flag out again. The children jumped up and down cheering and said "It's the wrong way up!" I turned it the other way "Now it's back to front!" I turned it again and Chris got a (very poor) photograph and rushed to the end where I collapsed over the line and dashed to the drinks table where I gulped down 3 drinks of orange squash in quick succession before shakily making my way to meet the family.
As for my time, after all that it was 2 hrs 30 mins and 20 secs. Pretty slow for a half marathon, and slightly slower than I hoped. But despite everything hurting, despite the fact I was beaten by a skier with a toboggan, 2 people doing a 3 legged race, and all but 150 other runners, I felt fine. I had managed to run all the way despite missing 1/3 of my training, so that's a bit of a result. So I may not be the fastest long distance runner, but at least I go the distance.
And of course I did it with the International Peace Fund in mind. It is not too late to sponsor me so please do go to the website and donate today http://www.for.org.uk/peacerunner
This will be my last post, although I may direct you to photographic evidence when the marathon photos people have them on line. But before I sign off, I would like to say a huge thank you to all the people who have supported me along the way, Nick and Martha at FoR, my twin sister Jules, all my lovely work colleagues, particularly Colin and Julian, and of course Chris, (without whom nothing is possible), and our lovely children. When you do a run like this, you think, never again. But already, sore thighs notwithstanding, I am trying to work out my next big race, which will hopefully be injury free and speedier. Until that time - thanks for your patience and support. Run on Peacemakers Run On.
The lovely thing about doing this race was Chris' family literally live round the corner, so there was no mad pre-race dash to find the venue and get changed. Just a gentle stroll to the high street and watch the organisers trying to sort out the champion chip technology and see the Marathon runners go off. I was glad I wasn't among them and was feeling very cheery as I waved goodbye to Chris and the children and made my way to the start. In the queue for the toilet I met a very friendly woman called Sara and as we waited for the klaxon sounding the start, all my pre-race jitters went and I began to believe I might just enjoy myself. Before I knew it we were off, I had a fleeting glance of the children and Chris madly waving and we were heading up the High St and out of town. It helped that I had run this way in my practice, so I felt comfortable with the gallop up the hill. My running companion was wanting to go a little fast and so I let her go off and settled into a pace that suited me. "Run on Peacemaker" I thought and wondered how Zoughbi Zoughbi and John Dear were doing.(see previous posts) John has a court case on at the moment, so I hoped he was alright. Before I knew it a mile had flashed past in just under 10 minutes, I didn't feel too puffed, my foot wasn't too sore. This felt easier than I thought it would. But could I keep up the pace?
The sun came out but there was a nice breeze and we were soon racing through Bashley and past the pub where I had turned off in my practice run. I was beginning to get very hot so was grateful when we ran into the woods proper and hit the 3 mile mark and a water station. The forest was beautiful, the trees were tall and elegant, there were quiet glades on either side of the road and I spread my arms out in appreciation of my surroundings. I couldn't help saying out loud "Wow, this is wonderful" and a couple of runners beside me laughed in agreement. I was still running a 10 minute mile pace and felt really comfortable, if I kept this up, I might hit my best case scenario of 2 hrs 15. But it was a long way to go and a big if, so I kept my head down out of the woods, and on to the moorland and up a hill. And boy what a hill. It started gently enough, then got steeper, curved round so you thought you'd got to the top, only to discover it went up some more, turned right and gently sloped up for another half a mile. The only good points were the sun had gone behind a cloud, so it wasn't as hot as it could be, and half way up I saw the place where the Marathon runners had turned off to do their extra 13 miles. At least I wasn't going that far. I was glad I had done all that hill training but it was hard work and to my annoyance I found myself singing a song from a children's story that had been driving me mad all week. "Never Give Up, Never give up, something will turn up, things always turn up" had a very soothing rhythm to it and it really helped. Oh the shame.......
When I was near the top I could see a trail of runners ahead of me, I looked back and there were still quite a lot behind, which was quite encouraging. The sight of all these people running with a single purpose, made me think "Run on Peacemakers" again, if only everyone was running with that thought. And it reminded me that one of these days I might just get round to organising a peace race.Once on top of the moor the sun came out so I was grateful for another water station and oh, blessed relief, sponges. The marshals were really cheerful and encouraging as they always are on these occasions and I ran on much refreshed, as I had been feeling a little sick which is always a bit of a worry. The only downside was half a mile later when I was hit by a desperate need for the loo. I dashed off at a likely spot, wasted precious time looking for a place where I could not be seen and hoped to goodness noone had (now I know how those naked bike riders must feel). When I rejoined the run, it felt like I had slipped quite a bit farther down the pack, but before I could worry about that I was faced with the hill from hell. It was as steep as my steepest local hill which is always hard going, but it felt twice as long. There was nothing for it to keep on upwards, but it was hard work. I overtook a couple of people at the start, but they soon overtook me back and by the time I stumbled to the top the refreshing drinks and sponges were a distant memory. Still, I got to the top and didn't walk so that was something.
The next stretch was across more beautiful moorland and my spirits rose as I knew the half way point was approaching. Soon after I hit 6 miles I saw a herd of New Forest ponies racing ahead, an uplifting sight. To celebrate the moment I pulled out a peace flag and ran with it outstretched till I turned the corner and realised to my delight I was heading homewards. The next stretch was great as I knew the road and another herd of dappled grey ponies were running ahead of me as if in encouragement. But my spirits dipped pretty quickly when I checked my watch and realised I'd slowed down, and then hit a drinks station and realised there were not going to be any sports drinks. I knew I should have checked, but I had foolishly assumed they would be available. Somehow the knowledge that I would have to get home on the strength of my breakfast immediately sapped my energy. And knowing that I had another hill facing me before we turned off to go through the village of Tiptoe, sapped it even more. A brief thought that perhaps I could stop and walk crossed my mind, but I dismissed it instantly. I know me, if I walk that's it, I'll never run again. I had to keep running because it was the quickest way back. But it was tough, and the turning point seemed to take an age. At last it arrived and I realised I was at 8 miles, and there was probably no way I could maintain my early optimistic pace. So it was dig deep time and keep going up another slow hot hill. Everything was beginning to hurt, and my spirits were really flagging, so I took a moment to think about the people in Zimbabwe, in Colombia, in Palestine, in Sudan and Uganda. As I have said before on this blog, it is humbling to know that so many people are willing to work for peace when they risk arrest, imprisonment, intimidation and even death, running a half marathon was a much easier prospect, even if at this particular moment every muscle was screaming.
When I turned the corner I was back on a road that I ran during training, which was great, except I had forgotten how long it was. A couple of people passed me and said, "We're on track for 2.5 hrs like last time" and I realised I had really slowed down. The sun was really hot and I was desperate for another drink, but just as I was beginning to despair, a cool breeze blew up from nowhere. "Breathe on me, breath of God, fill me with life anew" I sang to myself, and somehow I was. And then there was another sponge and water station and I was through Tiptoe and back on the road to New Milton. As I got onto the road I was passed by a truck with a large digital clock saying 2 hrs 20 minutes, which would have been a bit depressing except it was the truck for the Marathon and signalled a super fit athlete passing me by on his way to Marathon glory (2hrs 38 mins apparently, not quite the course record, but still an excellent time). I was quite cheered to see him go past, I find myself simultaneously awed and inspired by these elite athletes, and having run the distance in training, I also knew exactly how far I had to go, 3 miles to be exact.
I was cheerful for precisely a minute, until I realised that for some reason they were letting the traffic through. So the narrow road was suddenly filled with runners in single file and traffic on both sides of the road. OK, so the cars couldn't go fast, but it was absolutely hideous sensing their engines revving behind you and in several places having to scramble out of the way to let them pass. Not the nicest way to finish a race, particularly when it went on for a mile and a half. Luckily when we turned off for Stem Lane, we were directed through a shady footpath which was a very welcome change. The footpath didn't last long, but we were able to run on pavement after that, though it felt very very long. I was starving hungry, my legs were like lead, but knowing I was near the end,I gritted my teeth and kept going. And finally we turned into Gore Road, and there were spectators again. I kept looking out for Chris and the kids and suddenly they were there, so I pulled my peace flag out again. The children jumped up and down cheering and said "It's the wrong way up!" I turned it the other way "Now it's back to front!" I turned it again and Chris got a (very poor) photograph and rushed to the end where I collapsed over the line and dashed to the drinks table where I gulped down 3 drinks of orange squash in quick succession before shakily making my way to meet the family.
As for my time, after all that it was 2 hrs 30 mins and 20 secs. Pretty slow for a half marathon, and slightly slower than I hoped. But despite everything hurting, despite the fact I was beaten by a skier with a toboggan, 2 people doing a 3 legged race, and all but 150 other runners, I felt fine. I had managed to run all the way despite missing 1/3 of my training, so that's a bit of a result. So I may not be the fastest long distance runner, but at least I go the distance.
And of course I did it with the International Peace Fund in mind. It is not too late to sponsor me so please do go to the website and donate today http://www.for.org.uk/peacerunner
This will be my last post, although I may direct you to photographic evidence when the marathon photos people have them on line. But before I sign off, I would like to say a huge thank you to all the people who have supported me along the way, Nick and Martha at FoR, my twin sister Jules, all my lovely work colleagues, particularly Colin and Julian, and of course Chris, (without whom nothing is possible), and our lovely children. When you do a run like this, you think, never again. But already, sore thighs notwithstanding, I am trying to work out my next big race, which will hopefully be injury free and speedier. Until that time - thanks for your patience and support. Run on Peacemakers Run On.
Wednesday, 12 September 2007
So This Is It Then.
After all the meanderings in the Shropshire hills the old foot and ankle were a bit sore. In keeping with the rest of this minimalist training I thought it wise to rest up a bit and didn't run till last Thursday. I could have done one more longish 60 minute run, but decided it would be better to do shorter speed sessions. I could have also gone to my running club and done a final time trial. But since we were going away and this running lark depends on the good will of my lovely husband, I thought it simpler to run from home. So on a sulky glowering evening, full of black clouds with the occasional glimmer of light, I set off on a run that mixed fast and slow. Ten minutes gentle jog down to Florence Park then 5 lots of 3 minute sharp bursts and 2 minute breaks in between. These sorts of runs always start off fine for me, I am full of enthusiasm and don't mind that I can't breathe after the fast bit, but by the time I am on the 3rd or 4th time this has all palled. I find I am struggling to remember how many I have done already, my legs work less well and I am desperate for the slow 2 minutes to catch my breath. My mood was not improved at the end of the 3rd session when I passed someone on the slow bit who said "Not going fast tonight then?" "I'm about to" I replied loftily and determinedly rushed off for my 4th fast bit, but he had long gone and doubt he saw it. Still it was nice when I did the last one and as ever with these kinds of runs I hope it will have some impact on the day.
My final pre-race run took place on Saturday. We were away at our biannual gathering of "Unite for Peace" a small group of like minded people who meet to reflect about peace issues. I had hoped for an early run in the morning, but it never quite happened as I was the only parent up for quite a while, and the children are still a bit young to be left to their own devices. Luckily, I had a window of opportunity in the afternoon when the schedule was reorganised and off I trotted on an exploration of the local roads. It was a little worrying going off down a road I had never been on before, and after a couple of fast vehicles went past me I jumped over a stile and did a short bit of footpath, but it went back to the road fairly quickly and I decided to just run out for half the time and back again. This was a good move as I turned around at 15 minutes and then pelted back in 13, so felt very satisfied that somewhere along the line I have developed some ability to accelerate. (Though of course these things are all relative. Whilst I would be delighted if I achieved 135 minutes, a colleague of mine did 112 at the weekend and wants to get to under 100, whilst my super fast colleague is aiming for under 80!! As I've said before, running is good at putting you in your place....)
But this is it. I had toyed with the idea of one last run on Monday, but my foot has really hurt so I am trying to let it think I love it, so it will manage the 13 miles. And apart from the odd bit of cycling to get from A to B, I have been resting ever since. I feel quite slow and sluggish as a result, but I seem to remember this being the case for the London Marathon, and I am hoping that my body is just getting itself ready for Sunday.
So if there is anyone out there in cyberspace reading this (you are allowed to leave a message you know) this is it till after Race Day. I head down to the New Forest on Saturday with my 3 cheerleaders, to join Chris, my 4th, and get those feet out on the road.
And when I do so I will be thinking of:
Zoughbi Zoughbi and the peace and reconcilation centre in Wi'am
The Community of San Jose de Apartado in Colombia
The Peace Healing and Reconciliation Programme who work in Sudan and Uganda
Netsai Mushanga and FoR Zimbabwe
May their work bear fruit, and peace flourish in their lands.
My final pre-race run took place on Saturday. We were away at our biannual gathering of "Unite for Peace" a small group of like minded people who meet to reflect about peace issues. I had hoped for an early run in the morning, but it never quite happened as I was the only parent up for quite a while, and the children are still a bit young to be left to their own devices. Luckily, I had a window of opportunity in the afternoon when the schedule was reorganised and off I trotted on an exploration of the local roads. It was a little worrying going off down a road I had never been on before, and after a couple of fast vehicles went past me I jumped over a stile and did a short bit of footpath, but it went back to the road fairly quickly and I decided to just run out for half the time and back again. This was a good move as I turned around at 15 minutes and then pelted back in 13, so felt very satisfied that somewhere along the line I have developed some ability to accelerate. (Though of course these things are all relative. Whilst I would be delighted if I achieved 135 minutes, a colleague of mine did 112 at the weekend and wants to get to under 100, whilst my super fast colleague is aiming for under 80!! As I've said before, running is good at putting you in your place....)
But this is it. I had toyed with the idea of one last run on Monday, but my foot has really hurt so I am trying to let it think I love it, so it will manage the 13 miles. And apart from the odd bit of cycling to get from A to B, I have been resting ever since. I feel quite slow and sluggish as a result, but I seem to remember this being the case for the London Marathon, and I am hoping that my body is just getting itself ready for Sunday.
So if there is anyone out there in cyberspace reading this (you are allowed to leave a message you know) this is it till after Race Day. I head down to the New Forest on Saturday with my 3 cheerleaders, to join Chris, my 4th, and get those feet out on the road.
And when I do so I will be thinking of:
Zoughbi Zoughbi and the peace and reconcilation centre in Wi'am
The Community of San Jose de Apartado in Colombia
The Peace Healing and Reconciliation Programme who work in Sudan and Uganda
Netsai Mushanga and FoR Zimbabwe
May their work bear fruit, and peace flourish in their lands.
Wednesday, 5 September 2007
The Madness of the Long Distance Runner
So off we went to Shropshire for the last week of the holidays, to spend some quality time with my mother and various family members. We are lucky that she lives in one of the most beautiful places in England, Church Stretton, and is surrounded by hills, the Long Mynd at the front, and Caer Caradoc at the back. Lovely walking country, not so hot for running, as the hills are well, STEEP. I once had a very unlovely experience doing a 5 mile run over the Long Mynd, so I have learnt the hard way, running up there needs careful planning.
My wonderful twin sister, Julia, was up with her family, so we had an early morning date with the Cardingmill Valley, opposite my mother's house. Given the general steepness of the hills, I have learnt to be canny about my runs here. I only run on the road bits to avoid death defying sheep paths, and get a great down hill ending through the valley. But the valley run is a bit short, so I added a detour through town. Consequently we found ourselves puffing up a very steep road trying to find the path down, which I had conveniently forgotten was quite so high up. Ah but it was good for our cardiovascular systems, we hope. Coming down the path was easier and we had a nice jaunty run across a stream up to the car park and back down the hill. Runners World has a regular feature called "Rave Run" and this down hill stretch is my particular rave. The hills rise steeply on either side, the sheep meander across the path, the stream weaves in and out, ahead you can see down the valley and to the beauties of the hills across the way. The heather, gorse and bracken ensure the picture changes throughout the year, and whatever time of year I do it, the scenery never fails to inspire. As we got to the bottom of the valley, the sun was baking hot, even at 8.30, so I slowed down to avoid going into lack of sugar meltdown. Jules, however, being a competitive soul took off like the clappers. I had no inclination to join her till the very last minute when I gave a huge spurt and nearly (but not quite) caught her....... Oh well another day. We ran for 30 minutes, less than I had planned, but given the state of those hills, it was probably worth 45 minutes cardiovascularly speaking.
We had a busy time in Shropshire, so I didn't get out running again till Thursday. I wanted to run for 75 minutes without going up too many hills and along too many main roads. So I had a look at the map, and decided my best bet was to run round a hill behind my mother's house (Caer Caradoc). I was pretty sure that I had managed to walk this route before without going uphill too much and it gave me the necessary length and beauty.
Not wanting to put my mother out for too long, I headed out at about 9 o'clock. "I'll be back at about 10.15", I said cheerily. Yeah, right. The thing is that although I used to do long walks round there regularly in life BC (Before Children), it's not something that I have done for a while. I had forgotten how easy it is to miss an intended path. The first bit was fine as Beth and I had walked up Caradoc a couple of days earlier. Once at the foot of the hill, a lovely path trails round to the side, a bit steeper than I thought it would be, but still manageable, and it was nice to pass the tiny footpath that climbs sharply up to the top and know I wouldn't be doing that again. The sun was shining, the sheep were grazing, the sky was blue and the hills ahead and behind glowing green. The path turned right, which accorded with my memory, you have to go a bit of the way round the hill before you join the path going down. So I wasn't too worried until the path went steeply down and then hit a field. One path went right, and a narrow footpath went left. I had been running half an hour so I could have (should have) turned back and finished the rest of the run and been back for breakfast. But the madness of the long distance runner set in. Back was boring, I seemed to remember that we'd been caught like this on a walk before, going right took us miles out of our way. I was better off on the footpath going left as it kept me on Caradoc's lower slopes....
So I set off across the field, lost the path quite quickly, finding myself no longer running, but scrambling through the bracken surrounded by bemused sheep and jumping over rabbit and sheep droppings. Oops, so that was wrong then. I headed back down hill, my feet and ankles complaining like mad (they really really don't like the steep hills) and at the entrance of the field I found the path going up. I could have gone back, I should have gone back, but the madness possessed me now, and I wanted to see if over the rise I could get to the bottom of Caradoc. And it seemed to me that I could, it was flattish on top and I could see a stile at the end of the field which was near a footpath going to the end of the hill. Enthusiastically, I set off and although I hate hill running, (because it is steep, you rarely run and you are in constant danger of falling off), the path I joined there was wonderful. Caradoc sloped up to my left, gentle hills and the plain to Birmingham to my right, little Caradoc ahead of me. I was the only person there, and the path was wide, so I was able to run free. At the end of the field, the path I was on sloped right away from Caradoc, and away from home, a small sheep path headed left. I wasn't sure which to take, but figured, left would take me home and I would see the path down to the road any time soon. Except ... I didn't. Someday I will work out why, but the path I was on went steeply up, and the hill began to slope alarmingly steeply to my right. I tucked my water bottle into my purse belt to give me balance and gingerly walked along this very unsettling tightrope for what seemed like an age. All the time I was looking down for the path downwards, but couldn't see it. I looked at my watch, I had been on my feet nearly an hour and was going ever upwards, with no sign of an escape from the hill. I hadn't climbed Caradoc for 10 years, and now I was doing it twice in a week.
Just as I was beginning to despair I looked ahead of me and realised that somehow I had managed to come round the other side of the hill and was now facing towards All Stretton, the next village along from my mother's. I could also see a path several hundred feet below, (in fact this was the path I had intended to meet the other side of the hill). The sloped looked too steep to walk down, so I abandoned all dignity and slid down on my bottom. I ended up in a huge forest of bracken, which I hoped fervently were not full of ticks or snakes, and then blessed relief, I was on the path and able to run again. The next ten minutes were a bit of an obstacle course, my path led me to a footpath down through two fields, dodging tree roots. Then I had to climb a gate and run down to a stile, dice with death on the A49, over another stile, across another field, another stile, the railway line to Shrewsbury, till a final stile brought me to a simple single path. I was so relieved to be off the hill, on a normal path, and nearly home that I belted along, even though it was baking hot and I was desperate for breakfast. As I reached the last half mile to home, I was overtaken by a cheery man on a bicyle,"Been far?" he asked - you could say that. 75 minutes? Well I ran for 75 minutes, but the entire adventure had taken me about 100. I am sure that it did me some good, somewhere....
Whilst I was running, I thought a lot about the bloody history of the border country with Wales. In Roman times, the ancient Britons hid in these hills, in medieval times, the Welsh hid from the English. We are so fortunate that we live in a country where our ethnic differences no longer lead to violent wars. I am constantly grateful for the many opportunities I have to enjoy beauty in peace, and the need for us to support peacemakers abroad.
I arrived back in Oxford to receive my running number and my racing chip (which will help tell my running time). So it's official, I am on track for the 16th September, and it is just over a week away. My feet are pretty sore, but I am hoping to fit in a couple more training sessions before the big day. I'm looking forward to it.
My wonderful twin sister, Julia, was up with her family, so we had an early morning date with the Cardingmill Valley, opposite my mother's house. Given the general steepness of the hills, I have learnt to be canny about my runs here. I only run on the road bits to avoid death defying sheep paths, and get a great down hill ending through the valley. But the valley run is a bit short, so I added a detour through town. Consequently we found ourselves puffing up a very steep road trying to find the path down, which I had conveniently forgotten was quite so high up. Ah but it was good for our cardiovascular systems, we hope. Coming down the path was easier and we had a nice jaunty run across a stream up to the car park and back down the hill. Runners World has a regular feature called "Rave Run" and this down hill stretch is my particular rave. The hills rise steeply on either side, the sheep meander across the path, the stream weaves in and out, ahead you can see down the valley and to the beauties of the hills across the way. The heather, gorse and bracken ensure the picture changes throughout the year, and whatever time of year I do it, the scenery never fails to inspire. As we got to the bottom of the valley, the sun was baking hot, even at 8.30, so I slowed down to avoid going into lack of sugar meltdown. Jules, however, being a competitive soul took off like the clappers. I had no inclination to join her till the very last minute when I gave a huge spurt and nearly (but not quite) caught her....... Oh well another day. We ran for 30 minutes, less than I had planned, but given the state of those hills, it was probably worth 45 minutes cardiovascularly speaking.
We had a busy time in Shropshire, so I didn't get out running again till Thursday. I wanted to run for 75 minutes without going up too many hills and along too many main roads. So I had a look at the map, and decided my best bet was to run round a hill behind my mother's house (Caer Caradoc). I was pretty sure that I had managed to walk this route before without going uphill too much and it gave me the necessary length and beauty.
Not wanting to put my mother out for too long, I headed out at about 9 o'clock. "I'll be back at about 10.15", I said cheerily. Yeah, right. The thing is that although I used to do long walks round there regularly in life BC (Before Children), it's not something that I have done for a while. I had forgotten how easy it is to miss an intended path. The first bit was fine as Beth and I had walked up Caradoc a couple of days earlier. Once at the foot of the hill, a lovely path trails round to the side, a bit steeper than I thought it would be, but still manageable, and it was nice to pass the tiny footpath that climbs sharply up to the top and know I wouldn't be doing that again. The sun was shining, the sheep were grazing, the sky was blue and the hills ahead and behind glowing green. The path turned right, which accorded with my memory, you have to go a bit of the way round the hill before you join the path going down. So I wasn't too worried until the path went steeply down and then hit a field. One path went right, and a narrow footpath went left. I had been running half an hour so I could have (should have) turned back and finished the rest of the run and been back for breakfast. But the madness of the long distance runner set in. Back was boring, I seemed to remember that we'd been caught like this on a walk before, going right took us miles out of our way. I was better off on the footpath going left as it kept me on Caradoc's lower slopes....
So I set off across the field, lost the path quite quickly, finding myself no longer running, but scrambling through the bracken surrounded by bemused sheep and jumping over rabbit and sheep droppings. Oops, so that was wrong then. I headed back down hill, my feet and ankles complaining like mad (they really really don't like the steep hills) and at the entrance of the field I found the path going up. I could have gone back, I should have gone back, but the madness possessed me now, and I wanted to see if over the rise I could get to the bottom of Caradoc. And it seemed to me that I could, it was flattish on top and I could see a stile at the end of the field which was near a footpath going to the end of the hill. Enthusiastically, I set off and although I hate hill running, (because it is steep, you rarely run and you are in constant danger of falling off), the path I joined there was wonderful. Caradoc sloped up to my left, gentle hills and the plain to Birmingham to my right, little Caradoc ahead of me. I was the only person there, and the path was wide, so I was able to run free. At the end of the field, the path I was on sloped right away from Caradoc, and away from home, a small sheep path headed left. I wasn't sure which to take, but figured, left would take me home and I would see the path down to the road any time soon. Except ... I didn't. Someday I will work out why, but the path I was on went steeply up, and the hill began to slope alarmingly steeply to my right. I tucked my water bottle into my purse belt to give me balance and gingerly walked along this very unsettling tightrope for what seemed like an age. All the time I was looking down for the path downwards, but couldn't see it. I looked at my watch, I had been on my feet nearly an hour and was going ever upwards, with no sign of an escape from the hill. I hadn't climbed Caradoc for 10 years, and now I was doing it twice in a week.
Just as I was beginning to despair I looked ahead of me and realised that somehow I had managed to come round the other side of the hill and was now facing towards All Stretton, the next village along from my mother's. I could also see a path several hundred feet below, (in fact this was the path I had intended to meet the other side of the hill). The sloped looked too steep to walk down, so I abandoned all dignity and slid down on my bottom. I ended up in a huge forest of bracken, which I hoped fervently were not full of ticks or snakes, and then blessed relief, I was on the path and able to run again. The next ten minutes were a bit of an obstacle course, my path led me to a footpath down through two fields, dodging tree roots. Then I had to climb a gate and run down to a stile, dice with death on the A49, over another stile, across another field, another stile, the railway line to Shrewsbury, till a final stile brought me to a simple single path. I was so relieved to be off the hill, on a normal path, and nearly home that I belted along, even though it was baking hot and I was desperate for breakfast. As I reached the last half mile to home, I was overtaken by a cheery man on a bicyle,"Been far?" he asked - you could say that. 75 minutes? Well I ran for 75 minutes, but the entire adventure had taken me about 100. I am sure that it did me some good, somewhere....
Whilst I was running, I thought a lot about the bloody history of the border country with Wales. In Roman times, the ancient Britons hid in these hills, in medieval times, the Welsh hid from the English. We are so fortunate that we live in a country where our ethnic differences no longer lead to violent wars. I am constantly grateful for the many opportunities I have to enjoy beauty in peace, and the need for us to support peacemakers abroad.
I arrived back in Oxford to receive my running number and my racing chip (which will help tell my running time). So it's official, I am on track for the 16th September, and it is just over a week away. My feet are pretty sore, but I am hoping to fit in a couple more training sessions before the big day. I'm looking forward to it.
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