Running

Sounds like a good day out. A guy I know from my wobbly triathlon days ended up phoning in air support...

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He stood on something metal and it went right into his foot - looked in proper agony as I went past (there was already several runners aiding him at this point). Glad to hear he's alright.

Interestingly, I usually take my phone on longer races, but sacked it off as it hadn't charged properly. Deffo gonna be more prepared next time.

Ouch ouch ouch!

The Packhorse’s Blinders – A very long winded Tour of Pendle Report.

Standing in the queue for some post race replenishment, I’d asked Bill what his next race would be? “Tour of Pendle in November, last AL of the season”.
Never heard of it. “How is it?” - “Oh, it’s great!”, he informs me with his usual wide eyed enthusiasm. An enthusiasm faultlessly unencumbered by the prospect of long and arduous races, I should add. He is Lancastrian after all.
16 and a bit miles, 4800 feet, in November, on the windiest hill in England, four weeks after my first race post-injury. It’ll be fine. Then I remember, I haven’t done a long category race since June. It’ll be fine-ish.
Unable to find out much about the origin of the race, I’ve concluded that the route was devised by dropping spaghetti on a map, and the most offensive strands were selected to give the grandest day out possible. That, or some devious cartographer went to work figuring out how to get an AL out of a hill that’s 2 miles wide and 1800ft tall. Either way, the result is a crisscrossing tour, that seduces you with 10 easy miles, before smashing you to bits by throwing the majority of the ascent at you over four miles, and then making you sprint it home on tarmac for a mile. Saucy.
The night before, I follow my Team Sky-esque prerace protocol – one large pizza, chicken wings and a big packet of Malteasers, followed by sorting my kit out two hours after I should have gone to bed – Dave Brailsford would be proud. I sleep terribly, rise reluctantly, throw some coffee at my face and grumble through a bowl of muesli. This is what Peak Performance™ looks like, I’m sure. Fortunately the transcendent effects of the coffee kick in and I’m happily on my way to Barley before I know it.
My morning drudgery aside, the day is off to a good start. The weather is fair – a particularly positive omen with previous years’ races being hit with every weather type imaginable – and I squeezed my Astra into a spot so tight Guinness World Records might come a knocking (I’m tempted to attach a picture because it’s that much of a bobby dazzler). Number and t-shirt collected, map purchased from Pete Bland and there’s nowt left to do but plod up and down the road a few times to remind my legs they’re on duty today.
The giant mass of runners pile down the lane, and without a moment to stagnate the heads in front start to bob up and down as the wave of commencement drifts towards us. There are a lot of people running this race! I have to admit I feel awful, the realization striking me of what lies ahead, everything a bit off kilter, my stomach carved hollow. Too late now, anyway. It’s a pretty standard shleck up Pendle to start which helps draw attention away from my intestinal quandaries. The trig is passed, and the dreamy 4.5 mile descent towards CP2 begins. Keeping it steady, I’m passed by Bill – a decent indicator that my pace is correct, he knows what he’s doing, I don’t! “See you at the finish!” I laugh and off into the distance he goes. Down to CP2 then past the reservoir and up the next climb. It’s a narrow path so you’re tightly slotted into your running order – trying to make up places here will be a clear waste of energy (or a good excuse to slow your pace, depending on your pedigree). Sadly the climb doesn’t give a great return on its investment, the ground drops away steeply, presenting the aptly named “Geronimo” descent. Running in my comfortable trail shoes, the wet grass isn’t offering much purchase and I find myself working my legs hard to keep in control. Too hard in fact. So I decide to match my decline in altitude with a decline in dignity. Setting free my inner seven year old, I pick the grassiest line and bumslide my way down. I’ve heard that if it’s stupid but it works, it can’t be that stupid. I’m not sure anyone’s buying it though.
I still feel pretty capable, if a little wobbly, as CP5 approaches. I’m on schedule, hitting the 10 mile mark under two hours. That gives me an hour and a half for the remaining 6.5, at around 15 minutes a mile. This is also the last chance to do any maths, before the arriving climbs siphon all the oxygen out of my blood, rendering me into some kind of Neanderthal and thus stripping me of my already limited numerical capabilities.
The turn from CP5 heads straight for the climb via a dip over the stream. Your cover from Pendle’s ever-present winds is whipped away and the steepness robs me of my pace. The powerful gusts try and liberate me from my race cap, as I tighten it, pulling it over my brow. The peak acting as a pair of blinkers for this tired old packhorse. Ignore the other runners and trudge away, I think to myself. Tiny steps but keep the cadence. It feels stupid taking these teeny steps, but for the first time ever, I’m actually taking places while going uphill. It definitely helps that my stout build grounds me with a greater wind resistance than my whippet-limbed compatriots. The caffeinated energy gel swilling around my guts is threatening revolt but the call to arms seems to be rousing a second wind. Feeling pretty burst, I console myself with the reminder that there’s only two climbs left.
The descent offers little respite as the steepness demands that the legs work hard to keep me on track. I try and relax my body to stop it stealing precious energy for the approaching ascent. The Penultimate climb starts and by some miracle of sports nutrition, the viscous devil I squirted down is doing wonders. But still, the plod, plod, plod begrudgingly goes on. Then a stroke of good luck - the rasping sound of tired breath and howling wind is broken by a Lancastrian accent so thick you could spread it on toast. The unmistakable tones belong to Bill, who’s only a few places ahead. Seeing a friend in a long race is worth way more for performance than any gelatinous nutrition packet. So I power on, trying to catch up. But much like those dreams where you’re stuck to the floor, limbs refusing to cooperate, I just can’t quite bridge the gap. The chase continues over the top and back down.
Another sapping descent delivers the race to the foot of an uncompromising climb. And the best really is saved until last. The trodless hillside offers no line of weakness, just a steep aspect, uneven footing and guaranteed discomfort. It’s a bloody great way to finish a race, I must reluctantly admit. My body has now devolved from Neanderthal, to horse, to some kind of amoebic puddle and the single file of runners disperse into a loose scattering on the hillside – each runner in their own battle against the elevation. I laugh to myself at how daft this must look, droves of knackered looking runners cresting the hill like some kind of lycra clad zombie apocalypse.
Up and over, nothing left now but to empty the tank and to try and avoid premature disintegration. I’m back with Bill as we hit the tarmac. The harsh feedback from the solid ground underfoot shakes through me and lets me know the end is nigh – both the finish line and my ability to walk. Only 8 minutes of this and you’ll be done. Grit your teeth and put it down. My quads want to explode. My guts are shriveling. But my pace is good and I’ve made some good distance on Bill, I think. Round the final corner, finish in sight. Then out of bloody nowhere, comes flying a Lancastrian bullet with a sprint finish to make Usain Bolt proud. My floppy legs give it my best but the man in black and white has kept his ace in the back pocket and thrown it on the table just in time.
Cheeky sod.

👏👏👏👏

Always a top read those. Congrats, I think a couple of clubmates were up there too.

I was lucky enough to get picked for the Herts team for Intercounties 10K today as part of Brighton 10K. Split 17 dead for the first five K and steadily ground to a halt from there, managed a 34:51 to equal my PB which I'm happy and a bit surprised about.

Strava is having a real issue with me being in Australia - it's Monday here, but according to Strava it's still Sunday, so the run I did this morning is being held in limbo until the calendar catches up with itself.

Fantastic EfM route plot, at http://213.136.83.60/apps/efm18/

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Thanks for the encouragement! Looking at my rather sparse fitness/freshness graph I'm at where I was at when I surprised myself with that parkrun so lets see what happens if I make it to the start this Saturday. Would be over the moon with under 22 mins.
Chorlton Runners are getting ever-more tempting, but they're being beaten by a little group of friends in my labs who are doing gentle tuesday runs...

Just had a look at Strava, I had set an arbitrary goal of 250km for the year and had ignored it mostly, with some big periods off, and focused more on 5km a week. I'm way behind, but I might give it a punt. 74km to go!

Another good read @nefarious ! And a good run too

Can anyone recommend a good physio in North or Central London? Thanks!

I used to run cross-country, had a big bike accident and took to cycling as part of my recovery. 5 years later and I went for my first run (😀) last week...2 x 1/2 miles with a walk in the middle. I ached for a week. Today I ran again...1.3 miles non-stop. Feels good. I hope I can keep it up. I've a feint recollection of the high.

I’m not sure if he’s still active but @bluerip00 has helped loads of people on here with rectifying problems, including me.

This guy. I swear by him. He has transformed my ability to move, rest, relax. Really knows his stuff.

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Awesome, chuffed for you

Thanks. I bought a spaniel puppy to help with motivation!

Whats EfM? Its a very pretty picture but ive not come across this. Could you enlighten me?

https://escapefrommeriden.co.uk/

Running club this morning. 2 deg C and still 10 of Y5/Y6 turned up, some with gloves! I was holding 4 or 5 coats after the first 5 minutes.

Cheeky sod indeed!
Cracking read.

Went for my first run in 5 years last night with a view to entering a triathlon in the summer. Ran about 5.5KM in 30 minutes for starters. I think I'll carry on with short runs like this until after Christmas to build up my stamina. I felt surprisingly OK this morning, I thought I'd be in all sorts of pain but jumped on the bike and span out a few laps of Regents Park feeling fine.
I could get into this.

Run as far away as possible in 24 hrs. Winner is furthest away at the end. There are some variations in team categories, but that's the essence of it.

ground to a halt
17:51 5k

Pick one ;-)
Cracking effort either way.

Nice one. All sounding positive - running with any group is a good motivator, lab friends or CR's.

Answered by others, it's a bonkers event - everyone should give it a go at some point.

Interesting thoughts on fuelling:

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In other news, I've put my ticket in club ballot for the London 26.2 footrace over golden pavements. Would be 16yrs since I last ran it if I get the spot, and will shape winter/spring training.