Tipping points
Last weekend I ran 12.66 miles – the longest run I’d done since I was out there mapping the Moyleman. Truthfully though, I had pushed a bit too far, as up until then, I had been running in a rut of between 7 to 10 miles.
Then on Wednesday I played squash for the first time in 9 weeks. This was club night which involved over 10 games in 2 hours. And it appears that the entrance of the club has turned into some kind of portal, transporting unsuspecting players to the far reaches of the Ganges and plunging them into extreme humidity and temperatures exceeding those required to fry eggs. The severe conditions resulted in very sore legs and a pulled left buttock.
Thursday arrived, and as I hadn’t been out running I thought I’d better make the effort. So through the portal again and I arrived in the Gobi desert for a quick 3 miles up and over the sand dunes. This was followed by a 10 minute cold shower which did nothing to curb the sweat which continued to pour off me for another 60 minutes. This was nice for the other patrons in the restaurant that evening.
Friday was my birthday (I know, I don’t look a day over 35); which involved lunch time beers followed by tea time beers and a BBQ.
Then Saturday arrived, and it was time to go running again. I woke late (8:30). It was hot. It was humid. I ached. I had a slightly fuzzy head. I had a route in mind. Perfect.
At 10am I opened the oven door and headed out. The 1st mile was ok; The 2nd mile took me to the top of Kingston Ridge which was beautiful.
But then it got tough. I was clock watching, trying to maintain a reasonable pace… but try as I might, even the long trot down the Yellow Brick Road failed to improve my speed. When I eventually dropped onto the farm track, body and soul were giving up. I made it to Southease, 5.5 miles completed, and dropped my sorry arse in a shady corner to contemplate what the hell I was doing.
This wasn’t enjoyable… running often has its moments… but this really wasn’t enjoyable. And if it’s not enjoyable, why was I doing it. This is why I have never really liked the idea of doing a race. I run because I like to run. But training for the JS20 has meant having a plan… striving to constantly improve… running at a pace and in conditions that become painful. Which robs the fundamental joy of being out there?
I reached for my phone and went to press the speed dial for Mrs CharlieCat to come and pick me up. But something made me stop. Instead I had a gel and a good slug of water. Now I was here I should at least attempt Itford Hill. I told myself that if I was completely buggered by the top I could walk to Firle car park and get a lift from there. And even if I managed to go further, but couldn’t face Caburn, I would get a lift home from Glynde. The last piece of my mental jigsaw was to switch my watch from timer to clock and to run at the speed my body wanted to go at. I had a plan. I stood up. My legs hurt. I ran.
Itford Hill is a bugger at the best of times; it’s a bugger’s bugger when your legs are aching. But I find comfort in hills… set a pace and just keep at it. Pleasingly, I overtook a couple of mountain bikers before the first corner and kept ahead for quite a long-time thereafter.
At the top I stopped for another rest, more water and another gel, before heading downhill to Glynde. Here in Glynde village, having pounded the hard-top for a mile and a half, my legs started to protest; thoughts of the phone began to materialise again, pressing those numbers for a magic lift home, but I was so close now; 11 miles covered with only Caburn standing between me and Lewes. The only way to describe my ascent over Caburn was a slow plod. But I did it and eventually made it home… I even managed a small detour around the park to click over 14 miles, for me a record. My moving pace was reasonable, I did stop a few times, but hell… if you’re running on the South Downs, you’ve gotta stop and take in the view.
As for the JS20… Well without it looming on my autumnal horizon, I wouldn’t have had such an experience. Battling my running demons, and winning.
My life, I realise suddenly, is July
