Well, with October long gone and the big race only a week away, time for an update...
October was a big and largely successful month of running for me, and not without reason as I knew the first two weeks of November were going to be difficult with the dreaded night shifts putting paid to any serious training. It also (although I hadn’t expected this) killed off the chance of running the 10km race on the 6th, where I had hoped to try for a PB. As it turned out, work intervened and I didn’t even get to the start line which was a shame, but such is life.
Anyhow, a couple of decent runs today and yesterday suggest things are still OK. I’m pretty much convinced now that I should shelve any great hopes for a fast P2P, but I should be able to finish in reasonable style, which is all I really want. I had something of an epiphany yesterday whilst tackling a one hour uphill session. The run went really, really well and I finished feeling very strong and confident because I ran the thing slowly, which really was the key to enjoying it – run slowly and finish well. That is a much more satisfying result than killing myself over a fast time.
But to the race itself, now just 8 days away. I am looking forward to it immensely, but it’s also fair to say I’m looking forward to it being over. There’s no doubt the training has been tough and relentless. And like the training required for any serious race, I find it extremely difficult to fit it into my lifestyle. Being a shift worker, working strange and long hours, I have no set routine in my life. Whilst I enjoy the variety this brings, it doesn’t sit well with training schedules and I have always found it tough to slot in regular runs, week after week. Mrs MLCM pointed out a home truth to me just yesterday when she commented how I sleep badly and get sick in the last weeks before a race – she maintains this has happened with each race I’ve run this year, and I have no reason to believe this isn’t so. Races themselves aren’t the problem – I’ve always enjoyed racing and have never regretted entering any event. But the training required for them is a constant struggle, and it could well be that the slight but constant niggling pressure to stick to a training schedule is enough to affect my sleep patterns (difficult enough to do with shift work) and cause me to become run down more than the training itself would normally suggest. It’s the mental pressure, more than anything I think. Constantly playing catch-up with a training schedule is never any fun.
Actually, I had something else of a revelation when considering this “mental” aspect of running, or indeed any sport. The recent fiasco in the first cricket test Australia –v- South Africa is the case in point. Australia made a reasonable 284 in the first innings, and then sensationally bowled out South Africa for just 96. Brilliant! But then South Africa destroyed Australia in their second innings for an embarrassing paltry 47 before going on to win by 8 wickets. Clearly there is more happening here than just a pitch “doing something” or a bowler having a great day. Cricketing collapses (and their reverse, the “digging in”) are surely largely mental aspects of the game. And I believe endurance running is the same – beyond a certain level of fitness and technique, it’s the mental aspect that largely determines performance.
In that respect, I’m prepared to accept my wife’s assertion that training for a race makes me sick. I’m not talking anything major here – this is all relatively minor stuff, but it’s perhaps true that the pressure of a training schedule messes with my head somewhat, disrupting my sleep and lowering my immune system. But I also need the pressure of a race and its deadline to get me in my running gear day after day. Like a lot of people, I don’t find the actual running terribly pleasant – at least not enough of the runs to ensure I get out there on a daily basis. It’s more the after-effects I’m chasing: the feeling of wellness, fitness and the occasional burst of endorphins. Still it’s not enough unless I have a few race goals thrown into the mix to get me into a routine. Most probably because as I said, I’m not a routine “Monday to Friday” kind of guy.
So, to that end I’m not scheduling any races for a while after P2P. I think I owe it to Mrs MLCM to remove the pressure (imagined or real, it doesn’t matter) of race deadlines and tight training schedules for a bit.
As much as I’d like to have another crack at a marathon next year, the truth is that the enormous amount of training and the discipline required to see it through don’t fit with our lifestyles, so it’s perhaps best put back on the shelf for a while at least. I certainly need to get my sleep patterns back into some sort of order before committing to any other great race goal.
Now of course that means I have the pressure of forcing myself to run regularly without race goals to help. At least however I’m starting from a good mileage base and don’t have to run as often or nearly as hard and as far as I have in training for this mountain race. And any injury niggles can be given good time to heal, rather than having to force the issue to get back on track again.
Running takes a lot of time and organisation, especially when training for specific races. Beyond what’s required for general fitness and well-being, I think running can be quite taxing on family life, and so it’s time to restore the family/running/work/life balance I think. Back to a gentle 20km or so per week instead of twice that with hill climbs, intervals and ever-longer long runs plus the ever-looming race day deadlines thrown in to make life tough.
However, first things first. Erm, to the last race on my schedule... I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, so bring it on! The mighty Sweder and living legend Seafront Plodder arrive next Thursday for the global RC Point to Pinnacle challenge, and it’s going to be a blast!
Synchronicity Old man, synchronicity ...
I was only last night (in the wee small hours of this morning actually) revisiting my Connemarathon 2010 report in search of some mental sustainance. In terms of tough physical challenges mental toughness is, in lieu of supreme fitness and perfect preparation, everything. My own prep for P2P has been in stark contrast. A variety of work-related and personal issues have conspired to shred my plans. In the last, critical month I've managed a handful of perfunctory plods, the longest being a barely undulating 10 miler. I'm in no mood to listen to the 'ah yes, we've heard all this before' brigade either. I'm as heavy as I've been for three years, undercooked and (thanks to a recent collision with one of my boistrous pups) carrying a badly bruised right calf. I missed ParkRun today and my plans for tomorrow extend to nothing more than a gentle offroad leg-loosener.
And yet ... Point 2 Pinnacle, as tough as it is, can be done.
I've been to the edge a few times; London in 2003 after blowing up at 16 miles in my first effort over the distance with the image of my daughter at the finish line to keep me going; Cape Town in 2007 where a weeping calf and merciless sun tried to cheat me out of a medal, in the sun-kissed western Irish hills last year where dumb boneheadedness overcame common sense to get me home with twelve minutes to spare. I've stared into the abyss, gas tank empty, legs failing, body slumped into an ugly melting grostesque, and each time, from somewhere deep within, I've found the will to finish. Like a football team used to scoring late goals or winning ugly these experiences can be the difference between getting over the line and bumping your arse alonog in the back of the sweeper bus. Success to me next week will be to cross the finish line on my own two feet, preferably before sunset.
I'll be bringing Feet in the Clouds and Born to Run with me for a little in-flight head training. We leave London on Tuesday and arrive in Sydney on Thursday, a travel marathon by any measure. I plan to program my running head and rest my battered body. And maybe catch a movie or two.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
I've started reading the book by Dean Karnazes (he of 50 marathons in 50 days fame) called "Ultramarathon Man". Despite training like there's no tomorrow, it seems pretty clear from what he writes that ultras are largely a mental affair. He cites his school track coach who told him "if you feel good after a run, you ain't run hard enough". All very egoist and, to be frank, quite ridiculous. I suppose it's good to know there are people who demonstrate to what limits the human body can go, but I find it hard to relate to them somehow.
Incidentally, the book is a bit light-weight and certainly not the greatest piece of literature out there, but it's worth reading if only for his description of what happened to him after he ran his first 50-mile race, with very graphic descriptions of the agonising cramps and projectile vomiting he endured while trapped in his Lexus... which never smelled the same again. It's enough to put you off running for good... or at least using your Lexus post-run (are you reading this, EG?) ...
You see, I run to feel good afterwards. I don't want to barf up a lung as I cross the finish line. Feeling sore and stiff and shattered is all part of that fun but I fear I would get short shrift from that coach.
P2P will kick my arse next Sunday. I'll be gasping like a fish out of water, vowing 'never again' and trying to lie down. But ten minutes later I want to be up on my toes looking for a beer, shooting the breeze about what mad adventure we can get into next. There's my running Grail; not so much a golden chalice, more of a refillable pint glass. With bar snacks.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
It strikes me that P2P will require an unusual combination of effort. Fast races like 5 or 10K test your legs and your cardiovascular system, but endurance isn't the key. A marathon requires endurance and steel legs, but due to the slower pace (at least for me) the heart and lungs aren't the limiting factor. This baby, being run uphill all the way, over a significantly long distance, will push all three elements of running fitness.
So I think Sweder is right to expect a good spanking from the course. But I think MLCM is also right in that you can run (/walk) tactically so that you give your all over the 13.1 miles and still finish with your heads held high and smiles (if somewhat grimacing) on your faces.
Certainly, if ever there was a race that requires a slow and steady start, this is it.
Good luck boys.
MLCM, your epiphany was interesting. I had a similar revelation a couple of years ago, when I realised that running in a gorilla suit is completely possible if you just add a couple of minutes to your mile pace.
OK, it's not that similar.
And thanks for sharing your thoughts on run / life balance. There is a season for everything, and you will know when the time is right to take another challenge.
Good luck to all of you! I'll be looking forward to hearing about it - just very happy that I don't have to do it! Finishing this race is the goal; then you can really enjoy yourselves!
Well thanks for the best wishes everyone. Sweder and Seafront Plodder arrived safely and have already begun an impressive assault on the beer supplies of both the local pub and Chez MLCM. And I'm afraid to say Antonio, that your best and wisest words of advice re not drinking too much received merely silent nods of the "He's right of course" kind as they toasted you with yet another Coopers Pale Ale.
Regrettably, moi has not had such a pleasant time of it, having strained a disk in my lower back that has at times left me with excruciating back spasms and this afternoon had me in the hands of a sports physio who - thank God - is an ultramarathoner and so assured me he would do what he could to ensure I had at least a sporting chance of starting the race on Sunday.
The race for me is still a 50/50 proposition at best I would think, and I'll reserve the final decision until warm-up time just before the race, but at least I'm feeling more confident now of starting than I was a few hours ago when it seemed unlikely I'd even be able to get on the plane to fly down there.
Whatever happens for me personally on race day, a good time for all RCers in attendance is assured. In fact "official" pre-race hydration starts in just under an hour ... although Sweder and SP as I write this are at the local doing a little unofficial hydration strategy of their own. Apparently it also involves playing pool, an often-overlooked part of race day strategising here at RC I think.
I leave you with a look at my lower back, currently resembling the remains of a mummification convention...
(13-11-2011, 12:46 AM)Mid Life Crisis Man Wrote: while trapped in his Lexus... which never smelled the same again. It's enough to put you off running for good... or at least using your Lexus post-run (are you reading this, EG?) ...
I am, but belatedly. I have a bad habit of not checking in here enough. (I get an email when some sub-forums see new threads, but not all - and not this one. I must climb into the entrails and make sure I've checked the right boxes...)
After my post about NaNoWriMo, I received some sturdy advice from an impassioned MLCM. I decided to obey him, partly because his arguments were intellectually incontestable and comprehensively persuasive, but mainly because I was a bit scared.
So I've switched horses in midstream and am using the NaNo structure and the writing time to finish that damn running book. The reasons I mention this are a) to say thank you b) to assuage your post-speech remorse c) to remind myself that conversations like this one are a great resource, and probably better than my own flickering memory.
Er, and in the hope that you won't beat me up.
I'll be feverishly following the gang's progress up the mountain, as well as the rapid slide down the other side, through the post-race hydration.
Good luck all.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
(18-11-2011, 06:12 AM)Mid Life Crisis Man Wrote: Well thanks for the best wishes everyone. Sweder and Seafront Plodder arrived safely and have already begun an impressive assault on the beer supplies of both the local pub and Chez MLCM. And I'm afraid to say Antonio, that your best and wisest words of advice re not drinking too much received merely silent nods of the "He's right of course" kind as they toasted you with yet another Coopers Pale Ale.
Regrettably, moi has not had such a pleasant time of it, having strained a disk in my lower back that has at times left me with excruciating back spasms and this afternoon had me in the hands of a sports physio who - thank God - is an ultramarathoner and so assured me he would do what he could to ensure I had at least a sporting chance of starting the race on Sunday.
The race for me is still a 50/50 proposition at best I would think, and I'll reserve the final decision until warm-up time just before the race, but at least I'm feeling more confident now of starting than I was a few hours ago when it seemed unlikely I'd even be able to get on the plane to fly down there.
Whatever happens for me personally on race day, a good time for all RCers in attendance is assured. In fact "official" pre-race hydration starts in just under an hour ... although Sweder and SP as I write this are at the local doing a little unofficial hydration strategy of their own. Apparently it also involves playing pool, an often-overlooked part of race day strategising here at RC I think.
I leave you with a look at my lower back, currently resembling the remains of a mummification convention...
I´m glad you all enjoyed your drinks and thanks for toasting me with another Coopers Pale Ale.
I´m so sorry about your strained disk, MLCM. What a pity! Let´s hope you get better so that you can take part in that fantastic hard race.
Hope your back is feeling better in the morning .... good enough to have a crack at the P2P. Good luck if you go for it. And enjoy the post race beverages of which I suspect bucket loads will be consumed by some
Just a quick one... full report later after rehydration.
This race was, as Sweder has already reported, brutal. I did manage to complete the race, although I was pretty much done in after 15km and walked the most of the last 6, but I did get to the blizzard-engulfed finish line in one piece, albeit very cold and very wet. The blizzard was real enough too - ferocious winds, snow and sleet which forced an early closure to the event with some competitors still out on the course.
Actually, the blizzard was my fault - I passed the devil at the 18km mark: she was a young Asian woman wearing the number 666. I expressed surprise at this apparition and quite suddenly at that very moment it started raining. The rain quickly turned to sleet and thence into a full blizzard.
Anyhow, I made it there in 2h52 ... the last of the RC team to arrive at the mountain top, but I was happy just to have got there at all, given how only two days prior I was incapable of either sitting or laying down, and to stand was uncomfortable at best. I have to thank my physio for getting me up that mountain, and my fellow RCers for their considerable motivation and support.
What's next?
Well, beer. Obviously.
More later, RC-dudes.
====
P.S. Seafront Plodder also saw the devil prior to the start of the race and even snapped her photo!
2011 Point To Pinnacle Race Report – The Tale of Brokeback Mountain.
I wish I knew how to quit you. - Jack Twist, “Brokeback Mountain”
The physiotherapist gave me a quizzical look and wondered out loud how I was going to actually lie down on his bench. I could stand – in some discomfort – and with some effort I could on occasion just about get in and out of a firm chair, but laying down was difficult in the extreme and getting up again nearly impossible without a lot of assistance.
I had in desperation thrown myself at the mercy of the physio because I had sprained a disk in my lower back in the last few days before the big race. From being in perhaps the best running form of my life I was suddenly reduced to a cripple incapable of reaching down for his own running shoes, let alone putting them on and running out the door and up a bloody mountain. If I was any less mobile at that moment I would be in danger of being pressed into service as a novelty moaning hat stand.
When I happened to mention that in two days hence I was to run the Point To Pinnacle, instead of the expected laughter or rolling of eyes and tut-tut-tutting, my physio du jour Robbie took on a purposeful look, cracked his knuckles (metaphorically at least) and set to work. It turns out he is an ultra marathoner and former professional footballer and therefore understood my predicament perfectly. And whilst he didn’t guarantee I would finish the race, he did promise to give me a sporting chance of at least getting to the start line.
Suffice to say Robbie is indeed a miracle worker, and after an hours session with him a tremendous improvement was already under way. The RC legends Sweder and Seafront Plodder were in town and had already arrived at Chez MLCM and looked greatly relieved the next day when I was indeed able to board the plane to Hobart, which 24 hours earlier had been in some doubt. I shan’t go into boring detail about my recovery – but frequent stretching, the application of drugs, hot packs and ice did wonders and by the morning of the race I was feeling confident and ready to confront what was going to be undoubtedly a very, very tough event.
Pre-race day – Biggles Flies South
And so to Hobart. We flew down there on Saturday morning, the day before the race. The trip down is a story in itself, but Sweder has already done an excellent job of explaining that one so I won’t repeat it here. Six of us flew together on a not-as-early-as-scheduled Deathstar flight, and Stephen (MLCM Jr No. 2) flew in a few hours later from Adelaide. We were then a party of seven: three runners (Sweder, Chris and moi), two walkers (Seafront Plodder and Stephen) and two support crew (Jane and Tash).
In the afternoon we drove the course to get a look at the monster. Interestingly, Sweder didn’t want to see the course before the race, preferring not to dwell on the difficulties ahead. I could understand this to an extent but being such a gruelling race I thought it was an enemy you really shouldn’t battle in ignorance. It was also good weather that afternoon, and it might be the only chance we had of taking in the magnificent views should things deteriorate on race day … which indeed they did! I have walked up and down and over this mountain many, many times (there being a myriad of walking trails) and driven the race route road to the pinnacle a squillion times before. I’ve also completed the race once before (as a walker), and yet driving the route I was still surprised at how tough the bugger seemed to be. Just utter, utter, utterly relentless uphill. This was definitely going to be hard.
Shock and awe tactics over with, we returned to our rented accommodation and carbo-feasted on lamb, pasta and salad, prepared by our angelic attendants Jane and Tash. I’ve never really been one to suffer from pre-race nerves, but there was a strange feeling over our camp that evening as we sat in the shadow of the monster we had to battle the following day. Our rented house in West Hobart sat in the mountain’s foothills, and from our kitchen/dining/living area where we congregated we could see the peak glaring at us. This fight was definitely going to be on the mountain’s terms, and each of us was going to have a very personal struggle with the beast.
There was very little talk of race tactics that evening – each one of us had some idea of what we wanted to do, but there was a clear and over-riding understanding that no amount of planning would prepare you for the actual day. We would just have to see what the bastard threw at us. There was nothing more we could do now... we were as ready as we could be and it was too late to do anything more.
Next an early night was in order. But few of us slept well – restlessness, expected and unexpected trips to the toilet, uncomfortable beds, too hot, too cold – we seemed to suffer it all and no one claimed to have had a decent night’s kip. I had gone to bed wondering how my back would hold out, hoping the weather would be kind and thinking how great it was to be part of such a cool team as this little group was proving to be. It wasn’t a great nights sleep, and I was up early, but already the adrenaline was kicking in and I kind of knew that lack of sleep was going to be the least of my problems…
The day eventually dawned looking bright and cheery. Sunny, not cold and probably ideal running conditions. Even so, I was careful to load a rain jacket into my running belt/bum bag and had plenty of warm gear for the gear bus that I could retrieve at the summit. When I mentioned I had forgotten to bring a beanie, Jane lent me hers. As it looked such a nice day, I nearly handed it back thinking it wouldn’t be needed, but she insisted, so I packed it into the gear bag anyway. That beanie would later prove to be a God-send.
The Race – Suffering On The Mountain, or: Here Be Dragons!
The morning weather looked superb. My breakfast of toast and honey followed by a banana went down well and the mood of the team was generally buoyant. Jane left with the walkers at 06:15 to shuttle them to their earlier start while Sweder set to preparing his special race day concoction of chia goo plus a water, vinegar and salt drink which he assured us he would actually consume during the race. How he did this without actually immediately regurgitating it I can’t imagine.
Before we knew it, another hour was gone and we runners were being driven to the race start by Jane. There we quickly found the gear bus, dumped our bags and began trying to look a little like some of the lithe athletes around us. They were a fit looking lot, without doubt. I spied a former work mate of mine, normally a fantastically fit runner and many-times finisher of the Point To Pinnacle. This however was his first come-back race after prostate cancer and he was looking a little uncertain. We had a bit of a chat (which put my own concerns about my back into perspective!) before I returned to the others in time for the start. And what a start! Under clear blue, sunny skies and ideal running conditions we took off from the casino car park and up the flat Sandy Bay Road for 2km to the first hill. The plan was simple – start at the back, go out slow and then ease down even slower... but of course as usual we took off too fast! Travelling at the very back of the pack we were putting in 6 min kilometres when I was thinking 7:30 would be a better option. One of the few tactical things I knew for sure about this race was that if we didn’t get to the 10km point in tip top condition, the last slog up the mountain was going to be a killer.
We ran together for the first few km’s and even managed to slow it down to a reasonable pace, but it wasn’t too long before Sweder started to pull ahead as I had fully expected. At about the same time Chris started drifting off behind me and I was left to concentrate on my own game. I slowed down somewhat and was OK but not hysterically happy with the way I was travelling. My back and legs felt good, but I was struggling with my breathing more than I thought I should be. It was a hard climb, and yet I had trained well for this first 10km which I should have been able to cover really quite easily. For some reason however, it was beginning to really test me.
I reached the 10km point where we turned on to the mountain road proper in 69 minutes, which was about spot on the pace I had expected. However I was certainly not in the “tip top” condition I had trained for and expected. I was travelling reasonably OK though so just put my head down and kept going. From 10 to 14 kilometres I slowed somewhat as the pitch steepened but I was hanging in there – in fact I started to feel very strong for a while.
Something happened though at the 14km point, (“The Springs”) which was the major drinks point and first aid station. By then it had clouded over and looked somewhat threatening. Certainly it was cooler and a degree of menace was looming over the pinnacle which looked close enough to touch, and yet we still had the toughest part of the race to go – a long uphill stretch across the face of the mountain away from the pinnacle before the road looped back on itself and returned toward the peak. All of it now a hard, steep, unforgiving grind.
Soon I was really struggling, and around 15km I discovered I was running so slowly that it was genuinely faster for me to walk. So that is what I did. I decided to walk and recover for a while, but in truth, I only occasionally managed to break back into a jog, and then for barely any length of time.
Around the 18km mark I had the previously mentioned encounter with The Devil incarnate – a walker wearing the number 666. And that is when the weather really started to cave in. At first it was just a bit of drizzly rain, but it quickly began deteriorating. The wind picked up and any benefit I gained from walking rather than running was lost as the wet and the cold began the suffering proper.
Around 19km I came to the “Big Bend” where the road doubles back and heads across the top of the mountain to the finish line. This is a doubly nasty part of the course where you feel you’ve broken the back of the race yet the last 2km are incredibly steep and exposed. The weather was worsening rapidly, and what had by now become a full blown blizzard made this a walking nightmare. Although I was carrying a rain jacket in my bum bag, I simply couldn’t get it out because my fingers were swollen and totally numb with the cold. I decided to simply plough on even harder, hoping the fast pace (albeit a walk) would hold off the impending hypothermia which was by then a genuine worry for me. I was totally drenched, and while that wouldn’t normally be a problem on a run, the intense cold, made far colder by a fierce wind was making the matter somewhat serious.
At the 20km mark Chris caught me. It was odd because at that moment I had been concerned about him, as I knew he was running in a singlet with no rain jacket. The thought was crossing my mind that a dutiful father would forget about his own race aspirations and turn back to check his son was OK when in one of those odd moments of synchronicity he tapped me on the shoulder! The big grin on his face told me he was doing OK – he was clearly travelling far better than myself and offered to walk with me to the finish, but I waved him on saying I was sure I could get to the end OK.
And that’s what I did. Chris ran on at an astonishing pace considering what we had been through on the climb and the weather we were now being subjected to.
When the finish line timing mats finally appeared through the maelstrom it was to be honest, with more a sense of relief than any kind of elation that I trudged wearily across them. I stabbed at my Garmin with icy, frozen fingers to stop the beast and then contemplated the ten metre chute leading to the observation shed where we were to collect our medals and briefly find some respite from the storm. I became annoyed as the two people in front of me were barely crawling forward and thus holding up the queue of finishers all desperate to get out of the weather. However they were really suffering so I waited as patiently as I could and eventually we found ourselves inside the little shelter where we were handed medals, certificates and (bliss!) a bag of lollies which I wolfed down.
Leaving the shelter and heading to the gear bus to collect my bag the storm was at its fiercest and I could barely stand, the wind was that strong. Once on the gear bus I found my bag and quickly started putting on warm layers. The thick woollen beanie that Mrs MLCM had given me earlier and which I nearly handed back was the first thing on and I really do believe that prevented what could have been a worrying case of hypothermia. I was that cold and numb and not entirely with it mentally that I hadn’t even noticed Chris was just a few seats behind me. I was just getting off the gear bus when he yelled out, and together we then found a little renewed strength to battle through the elements to find a bus returning down the mountain. It was then we heard that the course had been officially closed due to the extreme weather and anyone not yet finished was being collected by the returning buses, so we were extremely fortunate to have finished just a little before the course was closed.
Post Race Re-hydration, or: Don’t Stop Now, We’ve Only Just Begun
Travelling back down the mountain things quickly warmed up and by the time we were deposited back at the casino start/finish line it was warm and sunny, and we took a few minutes to sit on the grass in the sun and dry off before joining the throngs inside for the free meal and beer on offer plus the prize presentations.
Stomachs filled, duty done and reunited with our team mates we retired to Running Commentary’s Southern Hemisphere Headquarters for showers, debrief and general gloating, back-slapping and to continue the re-hydration process. And then it was off to the pub for the post-race celebrations in earnest. So earnest in fact that they lasted for over a week, but that’s a story for another day, maybe.
A week and a bit later and I’m now back at work but still in that slightly buzzy post-race zone. There’s already talk afoot among RC pundits about a return bout in 2013. I have to confess it’s enticing. Although I’m happy to have gotten through the race at all given the state of my back, it does grate slightly that my training went so well only to be let down by injury right at the end. Instead of the expected sub 2:30, I finished in 2:52 ... so ... perhaps a return visit would be in order? I have raced the P2P twice now and had blizzard conditions in both. Surely I can’t be that unlucky three times in succession?
Time will tell.
But our team all triumphed in their own way. Sweder as expected put in a great race. Seafront Plodder and Stephen did their walks at a good clip and finished strong. Chris paced himself brilliantly and finished perhaps the strongest of all of us. And I was just happy to finish at all.
Official times:
Sweder 2:34:11
Chris 2:48:59
MLCM 2:52:51
Seafront Plodder 3:44:03
Stephen 3:50:35
Photos
1. The Walkers: Stephen and Seafront Plodder
2. The Runners: MLC Man, Sweder, Chris
3. The RC shirts!
4. Runners milling at the start, the beast in the background.
5. Sweder, Chris and MLCM at about 3km.
6. Five happy finishers.
Hoorah! Excellent stuff evoking fresh memories of a wonderful day. That blizzard at the summit was every bit as cruel as you describe. Yes, unfinissued business on Brokeback Mountain ...
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Go!vember
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![[Image: 666.JPG]](http://www.sandarac.com.au/misc/666.JPG)
