December

[Sweder]

Sunday's muddy, ice-blasted run took me almost 20k past last months’ total mileage.
Things have definitely improved in December.

Heavenly portents – smudged finger-clouds spread across an otherwise clear, sharp sky - suggested a bright if chilly day ahead. They were right on both counts, at least for starters. The sun shone gloriously above the East Brighton cliffs, bathing our impressively-swollen ranks before the off. Some thirty hardy souls gathered, shivering in a colourful array of lycra and Gore-Tex. At just 3 degrees Celsius with a knifing wind slashing that well into minus numbers we were wise to get going before we formed a permanent tribute to the local running fraternity.

I set off at a leisurely pace, running with Gillybean and Marion who, I'm delighted to report, will both join our Almeria armada in January
I'd decided to cash in on last weekends' Mince Pie 10 effort, stretching the mileage to take on the Snake. It's been a while since I've been along this wiggly way, possibly as long as six months. The perpetual deluge that’s plagued this part of the world in recent weeks (months?), whilst seemingly having a day off, has left the trails in a soggy state, adding balance and footfall to the usual challenges of general rise and fall. The biting wind bullying out of the north contrived to shove us back down Telscombe Tye, leaving me to rue my choice of short sleeved shirt as large goose-bumps covered my exposed arms like an instant outbreak of hives.

Another decision I took before leaving the house was to ignore energy gels. I managed the Mince Pie without them (although I did nab a couple of Jelly Babies along the way) and I felt a (possibly irrational) need to eschew the viscous supplements, to run au natural as if this might help to bolster my underlying fitness. On the way to the start I pocketed a pack of Wine Gums, stuffing a few into my water belt. I wolfed a couple at the top of the Tye and again just after the Farmers' Field plummet. Heading towards the foothills of the Snake I felt pretty good, but a glance at the rapidly darkening sky ahead curbed my enthusiasm. The bright green, sun-kissed hilltops sat in sharp relief against the monstrous black bruise blooming inexorably out of the horizon. There was little doubt we'd be in for a soaking. The question was how close could we get to home before it hit?

The answer came all too soon. As we chugged carefully along the pot-holed ‘tail’ the first veils of chilled mizzle draped themselves across us. As we entered the gate to round the first turn on the Snake proper the droplets grew larger, fell harder to lance into exposed pink flesh, cold as just-melted ice. I got my head down and ran as hard as I could. I've been on the Snake in heavy rain; the slightly sticky path would soon turn into a treacherous mud-slide. I had visions of our plucky band getting washed back down the hill, coated in slick brown sludge, riding some crazy downland theme-park ride. I reached the top of the twisting two-mile climb, heaving lungs trying seeking exit via my rasping throat, legs burning . I smiled through the pain, embracing the exquisite agony of the exhausted runner. By the time Gillybean, Sarah and Marion arrived I’d recovered my ability to breath standing upright, steam pluming off my shoulders. I must’ve looked like the carthorse who sneaked onto the track to chase the racehorses.

We ran the last few miles across the slippery trail to Brighton Racecourse and down through East Brighton park with the swirling, rain-laced wind at our backs. I felt good; tested, tired yet elated at having met my old, slippery friend once more and not been found wanting. Above the park a rainbow heralded the return of the sun, arcing into the high cloud like a bright, colourful smile.

More of the same is the order of the weeks to come.