Another steady twelve and a half miles today in exalted company.
Joining the Remster, Jill and Cynthia was none-other than Stevio ‘if you see me out for run in the next few weeks shoot me’ Scott, looking remarkably chipper after his torturous calf-knacked limp around the streets of London. Mark, a recent sub 3:30 FLMer who’d run for Diabetes UK and is himself insulin dependant looked eager for more mileage as he bounced on the spot. Another chap I’d not run with – Chris (Runningchris of this parrish) – arrived. He looked for all the world like Remy; similar hair, stylish glasses, lean frame. Being one to administer nicknames at the drop of a hat I dubbed him Remy’s Evil Twin, much to the amusement of the others who’d obviously been thinking along similar lines.
Chris turned out to be a solid performer, having bagged a decent inaugural FLM time and apparently with heaps of energy still to burn. Gary rolled up on his bike with a fellow from Dulwich Runners in tow. He’d been cycling along Brighton seafront when the chap had spotted his runners belt and water carrier and tagged along. Despite no water or gels he ran well, chirping readily all the way around the circuit. He asked if any of us had run the Brighton half and what we'd thought of the course. I gave him both barrels; the Pamplonaesque madness of the first two miles twisting through narrow streets and the Mickey Mouse Disney-style rope-and-post queue system used to conjour extra mileage after the organisers scrapped the much-loved cliff-top section out to Rottingdean. Several others concured, especially on the up-and-down traffic section on Madeira Drive (where at any one time they have three lanes of traffic running west, east and finally west to the finish). Why was he so interested I wondered. 'Oh, my Girlfriend's involved with planning the route.' He took it all pretty well and promised to convey the feedback with suitable footnotes on our desire to see the hilly section reinstated.
We set off towards Saltdean, more stories from the FLM helping the miles fly by as the high cloud swirled and gathered, apparently unsure as to wether or not to drown us with its cold wet cargo. I set off too quickly, keeping pace with Remy and Mark. It soon became obvious (to me) that I was in for a struggle, their easy cadence at odds with my own sweaty, rasping shuffle. Still, I hung on all the way up Telscombe Tye, tossing the occasional gasped aside into their comfortable conversation.
On the drop through the Farmer’s field I let gravity intervene, momentarily shaking off my associates. After the sling-shot up the other side Remy shared an observation.
‘No chance keeping up with your long legs’ he grinned.
‘Your back must be under some stress though. Those long levers working hard up the slopes - a lot of pressure on your hips and back.’
I’d not considered my odd shape as being unsuitable for hill running before but logic suggests this to be the case. Most successful fell or mountain runners have the combined attributes of light weight, compact build and, quite often, a low centre of gravity. With my truncated torso and gangly lower limbs, not to mention my ample storage belt, I do appear at odds with the perceived norm for this activity. I didn’t worry about any of this until halfway up the Snake when my lower back stiffened horribly. Psychosomatic symptoms perhaps? Had Remy unwittingly planted seeds of doubt that now conspired to choke my lower back with what felt like a rapidly expanding constriction of weeds? Unlikely, yet there was no denying the debilitating stiffness. I dropped back, resigned to taking it easy whilst I hoped for the flow of warm blood to ease the situation.
Happily the stiffness abated as we crossed the Racecourse for the homeward plummet through East Brighton Park. Freed from my lower back shackles I kicked for home, Chris easily keeping pace. We thundered across the last mile of rutted track and lush green turf, grinning madly as we paused to suck oxygen at the main road. Remy and Mark had taken the double-back route to Rottingdean but with a tough off-road half next Sunday I was more than happy with the mileage.
There was a difference of opinion over the distance at the finish. No-one wore a GPS watch so I’ll have to scour the archives for verification. Jill’s sure it’s just shy of fourteen, I think it’s a mile less. Our finishing time of 2:04 suggests I’m right but I’ll have to check.
. . . sure enough, I measured the route
back in December. It's 19.69 kilometres, a good way short of 13 miles.
Still, it certainly
feels closer to 14 . . .
) it seems weeks of hard work are about to be tragically undone. Combine these factors with the news that I'm meeting up with a good friend of some thirty years for the first time in eighteen months and you'll see where this is heading. C'est la vie. To paraphrase that old saying about work, do we run to live or live to run? Gotta have some balance I reckon.