Oh there's little doubt you will be moved Nick. On marathon day you will experience every emotion there is. Very best of luck, and whatever happens I guarantee you will never forget the experience.
I've run 3 and would not swap the memories for the world.
Ditto the above.
You'll enjoy one of the greatest days of your life- just remember to take as much in as you can and to enjoy the day. Your first FLM is all about soaking it up - forget times and all that nonsense. Speaking of soaking I see the forecast is around 19C partly cloudy. If it gets any warmer - and it will feel a good deal hotter I'm sure - make use of the temporary showers they set up. I think here are four along the route, usually off to the left side of the road - check your FLM magazine/ info for details.
Your race report will be most welcomed whenever you feel up to/ like writing one. Stick it in the JDRF FLM section - it may encourage one or two others to share their experiences.
See you at 22.5 miles!
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Yes I wondered about that . . . but decided to leave well alone, trusting that some bright spark would throw a spotlamp on it
I've re-located (OK, copied) the 'bare bones' of the TOM report to another thread. I'm not trying to single-handedly log-jam cyberspace, it's just easier for non-regulars to navigate through the story without the interjections (which are always welcome when you know who the people are!).
I've added another mini-story and some photos, some from Mrs S, some from my phonecam and a couple received tonight from Rog. Funny, I was about to ask him for some copies when his e-mail arrived with exactly what I was looking for. Hmm.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
A couple of runs separated by a handful of days and two continents.
On Wednesday last I woke up on the beachfront in Wilderness, a heavenly section of Western Cape coast between Cape Town and Port Elizabeth. Rollers crashed on deserted sand as I silently slipped into my running gear. A soft sand run calls for bare feet, so I tiptoed out a la Fred Flintstone, careful not to wake my girls.
Four gentle miles under the suns first rays, only gulls and scurrying hermit crabs for company as I run last Saturday's rust out of my tired legs. The Indian Ocean washed my feet as I danced in and out of the surf. The beach houses lay silent and dark to landward, palm silhouettes filling the gaps. Seabirds silent as if bound by local ordnance strutted their stuff; even the breakers seemed muted as they rushed in to meet the shoreline.
River
Two days later and it’s pre-dawn once more. This time I’m creeping out of a guest house on the edge of the Wilderness Bird Sanctuary. Runners required for this riverside ramble, taking in over a kilometres of perilous boardwalk faded and warped by years in the strong South African sun. On I lope through the leafy lanes and onto the disused railroad track. I revel in the soft caress of the cool morning air, barely breaking sweat over an easy six mile jaunt.
Hills
A week later and I’m pulling on the offroaders for the first time in too long. I’m at home, my dogs cavorting around me; we’re off to Blackcap. I promised Ana a 5K run but it turns out to be miles – I’ve had enough of kilometres for a while; having an A340 strapped to my rear for over eleven hours has left me hungry for mileage. My legs tingle with excitement and stored energy, feet keen for the kiss of lush turf, dried mud trails and slippery flint. It’s a beautiful run, barely an hour before dusk. The warmth of the day ebbs into the east, lured by the setting sun. The downland air cools my skin as I run freely, easily, on a well-worn path, hounds bounding joyfully at heel.
One of the best things about leaving home is coming back, never more so when your home is in the hills. A kitchen-clock time of 46 minutes belies the easy feeling. There’s still a few niggles floating around; that calf will need some attention. But the time is nigh for drawing future plans. After cheerleading duties at the FLM it’s on to the Seaford Half, the Dorney Dash and a better showing at the Jog Shop Jog.
Had a good ol' bashing at the hands of Kader - the bonkers algerian therapist on Monday. Legs were surprisingly in good nick, back was pretty tight however. 'Nosh nosh' as he likes to call Sweder, don't ask me why was uppermost in his thoughts for retribution on his injured calf.
He will probably be out Sunday night after running London - so Ash, get yourself booked in once more for some delightful torture.
A gentle leg-warmer in the summer sunshine.
I set off just before 10, approaching the start time for tomorrow's 27th Flora London Marathon, as much to sniff the air at that time of day as anything else. The sun warmed my back as I ambled easily through Landport Bottom and on past the racing stables, the dogs studiously ignoring the sheep scattered across our path.
We paused as Willow wallowed in the dew pond. Her condition, thought to be encephalitis, a potentially terminal infection of the spinal fluid, causes her temperature to soar. Perhaps she shouldn’t be out for five mile runs but a) that's what she lives for and b) the opportunity to cool off in the pond and the sheep trough at the top of the field is just too good to miss.
I never satisfy my thirst for the beauty of these glorious hills. The Big W gleamed and winked across the valley, the ridge above Kingston Village, home to so many winter Sundays, almost hazy at this balmy hour. By home I'd lathered up nicely, memories of Hout Bay and Constantia lingering at the edge of my mind. I smiled. I'll be back to see those brutes some day, but not without some adjustments to my training. Like mercenaries of yore I long for future battles, to spill the blood of my 'enemies'. Fellow Spartan Moyleman has taken up arms once more, pinning his colour to the Three Forts standard. I'll not join him; old wounds must heal before I charge once more into the heat of the fray.
As I stretched my tightened calf against sun-warmed brick Sue appeared in my driveway. Sue, you may recall, felt certain to withdraw from the FLM following a cruel bout of achillies trouble a few weeks back. Rest and care have seen her restored, and despite a hole at the end of her training she'll take to the streets tomorrow morning to claim reward for weeks under the Sam Lambourne lash. Taper madness had her in its grasp, the pent-up energy almost visible under her skin. We sat and talked over coffee, me dispensing my 'wisdom', assuring her she can get round if she shelves all thought of times, listens to her body and takes on plenty of fluid along the way.
She'll make it. I don't know too many people with her strength of purpose, and I'm sure she wouldn't start if she didn't feel deep down she could finish. I hid my envy well. Although I'll be there with a ringside seat up the hill from Mile 22 cheering on the brave JDRF troops there's nothing compares to taking your place on that start line.
I'll be packing my runners and shorts for the overnight stay in town.
Just in case.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Glad you finished intact and ready for more. Didn't like the sound of that heat in those sort of conditions even the training isn't a guarantee to get round. A triumph.. well done that man! Any other adventures on the horizon?
Glad you asked SW.
All my FLMers got through, although some were pretty beaten up in the heat. More on that in the JDRF threads above, plus a few photos emerging.
The good news on Sue is she not only completed but managed to run all the way, finishing in a creditable 4:50 with unbelievable 10K splits of 1:08, 1:10, 1:10, 1:07! She's a star. A few black toes last night and I expect she'll be hurting today but a huge effort - another triumph of willpower over fragile flesh!
The Jog Shop Joggers festivities rounded off a wonderful day to perfection. Veterans of TOM, Paris and London mingled in the Heist bar, swapping tales rude and glorious of extreme heat and the madness that afflicts us all. Moyleman and I proceded to royally piss people off with our repeated stories of 'running into difficulties at 46K' All good-natured banter. The cameraderie flowed as easily as the Guinness. I took a quiet moment to thank and congratulate Sam for another vintage year. He smiled at me, that dangerous twinkle in his eye, and growled
'Yep, yep - not bad. Not bad at all.'
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Sweder Wrote:The good news on Sue is she not only completed but managed to run all the way, finishing in a creditable 4:50 with unbelievable 10K splits of 1:08, 1:10, 1:10, 1:07!
Fantastic splits. Give or take a minute, I think my Zurich 10k splits were 1:00, 1:10, 1:20, 1:30. What's interesting about Sue's is her first 10k -- 1:08. She obviously paced herself perfectly, and didn't go out too quickly. Lesser runners (:o ) take note....
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
April - Old Mutual Two Oceans Marathon
