What next eh?

[Sweder]

I'm off on my travels again mid-month, but when I get back I might finally be able to join you on one of the shorter, slower outings.
It's about bloody time.

[Charliecat5]

Knocked out by hay fever       
 
It’s been a difficult week running wise.  It started with anticipation of running Caburn last Thursday.  I was really looking forward to it.  There was a spring in my step and two friends had agreed to join me.  But one mile in and my legs rebelled and left the building.  I was in agony.  I kept at it for a couple of miles but then had to wish my running buddies well and turned round to limp it home.   A bit of medical opinion (i.e. Google) tells me that I had a touch of medial tibial stress syndrome.  Nope, I have no idea either.
 
Apparently, one cause of MTSS is knackered footwear.  I chose to ignore the stuff about: too much, too soon.  And not building up mileage gradually enough, or the stuff about seasoned runners who abruptly change their workout regimen, suddenly adding too much mileage, etc.   Clearly none of that relates to me.  It has to be my shoes.  To be fair they do have big holes in them and have probably done 500-600 miles.    
 
So on Saturday I went to a running shop and bought a shiny, sparkly new pair.  They are lovely and blue with grippy stuff underneath.  And I got £20 off due to my esteemed status as Moyleman Race Director.  
 
Sunday evening I headed out with Radar to put my new shoes to the test.  She is on the road to recovery from a nasty bout of pneumonia so we had planned a slow 5-6 miles along the river and up the hill to Mount Harry.  It was a beautiful run and in the end resulted in 7 miles.  My feet were bouncy and not hurty.  Result. Problem solved.
 
Tuesday I rocked up for a Herd Run.  Taking it easy was the call for the day, a few still cooling down from the London Marathon.  We set off to do the Kloop (aka the Kingston Loop) which is about 5 miles and reasonably flat.   It was a nightmare.  I know I was running with a fast group, but still.  At the two mile mark I was on my knees.  No energy and legs like a badly tossed salad.  By mile three I called it a day and announced that was going to walk home.  Being a caring lot, they eased up and insisted that walking was for losers. So I kept running.  I’m pleased I did, but it was a painful experience.
 
Thursday (i.e. last night), Radar put a call out for a run, so I joined her for another go around the Kloop.  This was better than Tuesday’s affair, mainly because it was slower.  It was still a painful experience though.   No energy in the tank.  Snot pouring down my face.  Legs like treacle.  
 
I love this time of year… but the bloody hay fever is something else.
 
P.s. the medial tibial stress syndrome (whatever that is) has disappeared, so I guess it was the shoes. 

   

[Seafront Plodder]

You in Australia?

[Charliecat5]

You in Australia?

Hay fever mate.  It tips you upside down.  Although I don't know what Radar's excuse is.

[Charliecat5]

I've been asked to write a short blog setting out why I run.   This is for an initiative that a chap called Kevin Betts has organised to promote mental health awareness week.   He is the same chap who arranged the marathon over 24 hours jaunt that OATR took part in last year.

Rather than the usual frivolous stuff, I decided to write something that captured the essence of what running  is about for me.  It is a little more poetic than you'll be use to reading on these here pages.   But I needed somewhere to put it.

The sun falls through dappled leaves as I wait in the quiet for my running buddy to arrive.  The heat is still strong after a day searing away the last traces of winter.  Spring is truly here now.  With a sense of nervousness I anticipate the run ahead.  A path well-trodden, but that is the problem.  We know how brutal the hills can be.  Chalk paths climbing endlessly to the skies, legs burning, lungs rasping as we head step-by-step to the tops. 
 
We meet and set off.  Snatching conversation as our heart rates rise and breathing becomes more difficult.  Chatting about this and that, consciousness fading in and out as views, memories, and the moment itself tumbles across our path.  The sound of the gate closing with a metallic shudder breaks the spell and suddenly the rain starts to fall.  An outpouring of grief, worry and concern cascades downwards as we climb up, up and up. The beauty of our surroundings in contrast to the tears welling up in our eyes.  
 
But as we stand on the top, catching our breath with a sense of achievement that only comes from running, things feel better.   
 
It’s why we run… to escape ourselves.

[Charliecat5]

I haven’t always been an elite trail running athlete.  It’s hard to believe, but not that many years ago I was a novice to this sport, struggling to lace my shoes, never mind sprinting up the hills.   But there was a certain character in these parts who took me under his wing, and taught me all he knew.  He forced me over hill and through valley.  Verbally berating me each time I dropped to the ground in a molten heap of spent legs, bust lungs, sweat and spittle.  Driving me beyond limits I had no idea existed.
 
How times have changed. 
 
Last night I managed to get the old git out for a proper run.  None of this Park Run nonsense, or even, dare I say, a mooch up and down the Twittens.  This was a proper run.  Knocking back the miles.  Big hills. The psychological sting of river bank running.  Chalk, knee shuddering, drops.   And, as is fitting such a run, a few jars of craft beer to finish.  It was the promise of the latter that got him out to be honest. 
 
The goat struggled. From the beginning he had an expression of pain across his face.  He huffed and puffed (particularly when we were charged £10 for two pints!).  Of course I was sympathetic.  I waited for him every now and again.  I gave him ample seconds to recover before pushing on. I chatted incessantly about this and that, to keep his mind from the pain.  But to give the bugger his due.  He did it.  He didn’t complain (much).  And he got up this morning and did a Park Run whilst I was still lounging about in bed.  

   

[marathondan]

Nice work fellas. Great weather, at one with nature, etc etc. Reminds us what it's all about.

[Sweder]

I don't remember you waiting much. Nor us being in Australia, for that matter.
The beer was ace. Parkrun less so, a proper battering this morning.
And there's the small matter of the Twiathlon in the morning.
Bloody hell.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

   

[Charliecat5]

Someone has started their training programme.  Unfinished business with the Beachy Head marathon in the autumn.  However, before you get excited, or fall over backwards in shock, I’m pleased to report that it’s not me.  I am just joining them for the pure fun of it.
 
Hills were the order of the evening.  Hill reps. We could have run the Twittens, but heck, we’re built of much more sturdy stuff than that.  So we headed out towards Kingston Ridge.
 
A few stats.  Jubilee Park (where we met to start our outing is at 22m).  The bottom of the V where the hill reps start is at 83m.  The highest point (the left hand track) is 169m.  So each hill rep is 86m and approx. half a mile long.   We did three of these bastards before turning tail and heading back home again… to watch the last 30 minutes of the Spain / Portugal game.    6 miles and 339m of elevation.  The Twittens provide about 195m of elevation. 
 
Is it wrong that I love doing hill reps like this?
 
The picture is a beautiful painting by a local artist, Serena Penman.  It captures Kingston Ridge in all its fine and scary beauty.  

   

[marathondan]

Very nice. And ART. And you are just doing this for fun. Tremendous work.

[Charliecat5]

Stone the crows, it was a motley crew that set out into the hills esta mañana.  An idea that had its roots in several schooners of craft ale on Friday evening resulted in the Goat, OATR, Paula, and yours truly setting off for a 10 mile excursion this morning.  An excursion that took in most of the highlights* of the first half of the Moyleman.  
 
It was the furthest that the Goat had run all year.  Luckily he didn’t mention this 14 times.
 
I cannot say with any sense of honesty that it was a pretty affair.  We all had our moments leading the pack, and we all had our moments in some kind of pain at the back of the pack.  
 
But we made it.  And almost in one piece.  
 
*highlights were very dependent on whether Sweder was in front of you, or behind.  There are prettier arses to be found in these hills. 

       
 

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Astonishing! Well done, lads and lady!

[Seafront Plodder]

several schooners of craft ale on Friday evening 

Lewesian ponce.


 

[Charliecat5]

several schooners of craft ale on Friday evening 

Lewesian ponce.


 

Hey!  We move with the times up here in Lewes.  We don't just stick with our traditional ales and mass produced lagers.  It's about embracing change and new ideas.  And if that means fruit in your beer, then so be it... 

[Antonio247]

Congratulations, amigos! Looking forward to doing the second half next year.


Saludos desde Almería.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

several schooners of craft ale on Friday evening 

Lewesian ponce.


 

Hey!  We move with the times up here in Lewes.  We don't just stick with our traditional ales and mass produced lagers.  It's about embracing change and new ideas.  And if that means fruit in your beer, then so be it... 

Fruit in your beer? That's just gross. Brexit has a lot to answer for ...