December

[marathondan]

The Monkey Lives… just

This post was due to be called “The Monkey is Dead”. Then I changed my mind.

Sunday night, the Gorilla Suit Feasibility Study extended to a 7.5 miler. Concerned that my outfit wasn’t doing justice to the potential full horrors, I also added tracksters, a sweatshirt, and a woolly hat to the ensemble.

It was pretty horrid from the off. Forcing breath in and out through the ski mask, layer upon layer oppressing my normally well-ventilated dome, my whole body save for my eyes immune to the slightest breeze. One of the worst bits is the lack of exhaust facilities. Every water-saturated exhalation is recycled around the head and neck, creating an internal atmosphere reminiscent of a dank cave. I fear that on a really long run, I might start to grow moss inside my clothes.

But after a mile or so, I got into the groove, Radio 4 soothed my mind, and things weren’t so bad. I was good for 2 or 3 miles. But I never really recovered from the one significant hill climb in my circuit. I was overheating, all my layers were soaked from the inside out, and as I prepared to swing by the house at 5 miles, to take on water and raisins, I’d given up. Ah well, the dream was over. I’d been dreaming along the “anything is possible” lines, the kind of inspiration that one draws from seeing an amputee running a marathon on crutches. Anything is possible if you put your mind to it. Well, I guess it is, but it seems I’m not in that league yet. Last year’s marathon may have gone as well as could possibly have been expected, but this year’s won’t be any easier, even before I start thinking about fancy dress shenanigans. And it turns out that a gorilla suit is up there with the worst of the outfits. Not for the faint-hearted, or faint-legged. Or those with limited time, and energy, and a penchant for the bare minimum of training.

I ripped off hat, hood, mask, gloves and fleece, and turned tail, embracing the cold late night air, into my short 2.5 mile lap. I was still overdressed, but the relief was tremendous. The remaining running was easy and comfortable and as it should be. I returned home in 68 minutes, collected my disgustingly soaked outer garments from the doorstep, and hit the shower feeling remarkably OK. The fact that Emma then proceeded to keep us awake till about 2am made the decision even more sensible. If I want to boost my sponsorship potential, I’m going to need to find a better way to do it.

But. But. But. Today the thought came upon me that the one thing I haven’t tried is slowing down. Sunday night was run at almost bang on last year’s marathon race pace. I could slow down by nearly 2 minutes per mile and be on for a sub-5 finish. I just think I should give it one more shot, just to check that it’s just as bad at a slower pace. If I don’t, there’ll always be that nagging doubt – and I’ll just feel the need to try again next year. So, next Sunday: 7.5 miles, 11 minute miles, the full clobber again. I suspect the monkey will still die. But he’s hanging on for another week.