October 2014

[Charliecat5]

Race, run, jog, saunter, amble, meander, mosey, ramble, stroll, plod…

I think I achieved all of these states yesterday morning, particularly the last one. 10 miles was the target and 11.5 miles was the result. Probably one of my most common routes that takes me to the top of Kingston Ridge, along the South Downs Way to Southease and back along the river, this time all the way along the river through town and back over the hill past Pells Pool (hence the extra mile and a half).

I arrived on the top at 8:15 to an incredible view … the valley floor shrouded in mist leaving the high ground like islands floating across clouds. However, by the time I had got to the top of the YBR the sun had won its battle and the mist had gone.

It wasn’t a quick run, I just couldn’t get my short arse legs going, but I guess it was a solid run as although I was flagging towards the end I could have kept going for a while longer had a day’s decorating not been calling. Having said that, by the time I had spent all afternoon climbing up and down a ladder with a paint brush, I was buggered.

A reasonable start to October… but with Sweder starting to sniff at my heels and talk of November plans, I need to push the miles now so as to keep up with the big man when he eventually finds his way back to the trails.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Oh yes, Sweder, he picks up where he leaves off, does that one. No easing one's way back all careful like ... no, he'll be flogging your arse in some vertical, mud-strewn marathon before you can say "I thought you had a busted kneecap?"

I wish you well.

[Charliecat5]

Stone the flippin' crows - guess what I've gone and done?

It started like this:

We need to knuckle down and sort some Moyleman things out, as March will be upon us before we can say "do you fancy another slice of Christmas cake". As part of our preparation, Sweder, bless his little cotton socks, sent me a link to a website that's advertising another off-road marathon in February so we can compare and contrast. And apparently they are also organising a 10k and a 10m run as well on the same day.

Then something really weird happened... before I had any comprehension of what I was doing, I entered the 10 mile run. The Longman Brighton winter trail on the 8th February. WHAT HAVE I DONE... I DON'T DO RACES!

I haven't mentioned this to my legs or feet yet... can't quite pluck up the courage.

Oh... ran 3 miles last night, in the dark, average speed 8.15min/mi.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Wild, howling laughter!

[marathondan]

Good news Charlie! You need to experience the "race day pixies" first-hand, little blighters that make you run much faster than you previously thought possible. You may become hooked.

Maybe you should build up to that race with a 10K?

How was the night run? Are you out on the trails with a head torch?

[glaconman]

Good luck with your race preparations Charlie. You really are in deep now my friend. But rest assured that 10 miles is a classic distance to wrestle with. For some people the classic race distance; and there are some great 10 milers out there.

And just think, there are myriad Charlies who decided not to enter the Longman Brighton Winter Trail. The poor souls.

THE MULTIVERSE

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Quantum running? Are you making a film about that, G'man? You scare me!

[glaconman]

Every time you make a choice, you spawn a multitude of universes, leading to umpteen other yous – some of them living very different lives. This raises a myriad of moral conundrums, from what we owe our other selves to the death of hope.

I thought Charlie might find particular inspiration in that last statement.

It's abit like sombody cutting the string in the middle of a maze. Once you've done your first race there's little chance of making it back.

[marathondan]

But actually the decision was made by some random atomic spin, not by Charlie's conscious thought process. In this universe, there's no way that he would have decided not to enter. Which is good, because it means it was the right (non) decision.

If you don't like my argument, please refer to a parallel universe in which I didn't post this, due to being attacked by a giant jellyfish.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Yeah, maybe. I blame Sweder though.

[glaconman]

Hmm. This sounds like the Death of Free Will Dan. Along with the reduction of biodiversity and the subsequent rise of a dominant, invasive species post humans. Although I'd flip a coin between jellyfish and rats.

But does Charlie get to decide how much training he is going to do? It will certainly effect the way he feels at mile 7 when both space and time will warp and elongate away from him. It's at this stage he may be looking for wormholes.

[Charliecat5]

GOOD GOD!

If every time you make a choice, you spawn a multitude of universes, leading to umpteen other yous – does this mean there are multiple versions of Sweder existing in many different forms across time and space? I would contemplate suicide... but that would be pointless as in another world I would be still following his arse over the many trails and trials of life.

If only I hadn't met the guy... but of course I'd already had before I did... I need to lie down.

[Charliecat5]

Good news Charlie! You need to experience the "race day pixies" first-hand, little blighters that make you run much faster than you previously thought possible. You may become hooked.

Maybe you should build up to that race with a 10K?

How was the night run? Are you out on the trails with a head torch?

I going to ignore the comment about the 10k... I am already running 10 milers most* weekends - so a race can't be that difficult... CAN IT?

*when I say 'most' I mean occasionally.

Last nights run was off-road to the next village in the dusk... and then back along the road (cycle path) so no head torch. But I do need to get this sorted as I refuse to road run on a regular basis.

[Charliecat5]

Admittedly my running journey is a bit of a roller coaster… full of ups and downs… but overall I have always been content that I am moving forward, albeit somewhat slowly. I feel as though I have progressed from 13, to the Nemesis, to Oblivion, then Rita and finally to the Smiler (You’ll need to know Alton Towers to understand that… just think roller coasters).

But over the last couple of weeks, well since I had my cold (aka man flu), I have fallen off the wagon, and fallen hard. Down I have gone, crashing through a barrel of fat, making illicit passes at the pastry counter, before landing squarely in a carriage marked “Sloth”.

On the way I have been tempted by the chocolate cupboard, fallen in love with American Pale Ale and am about to be seduced by a George Stafford’s Black Pudding.
The result is not pretty. This morning’s outing was the worse trip since I first started this torrid affair with running. There was nothing in the tank (physically or spiritually). The only positive is that I made it round the 4.5 mile loop driven by a determination that I was going to make it however long it took … and it took a long time.

Time for a ‘reset’, a small break, to get my metaphorical house in order. I am going walking in the Lakes next weekend with the Boy so I am going to have some time off and leave the running until I have a new pair of running shoes (to cure the blisters and to give myself a psychological boost) and have got my diet and state of mind back in the right place.

And then it’s a fresh start… me against the Downs and my Demons as I head towards my first race in February.

[marathondan]

Well Charlie, as the celebrated philosopher Tom Jones postulated - it's not unusual. Well done for dragging yourself round the 4.5. Don't be afraid to just pootle round a few short distances during your exile. It all counts in the fitness bank.

Also I notice you said "physically and spiritually" rather than "physically and mentally" - seems like you are a convert to the religion.

Enjoy the lakes...

[Charliecat5]

Also I notice you said "physically and spiritually" rather than "physically and mentally" - seems like you are a convert to the religion.

You got me thinking so I made enquiries (looked at Wiki).

“Traditionally spirituality has been defined as a process of personal transformation in accordance with religious ideals. Since the 19th century spirituality is often separated from religion, and has become more oriented on subjective experience and psychological growth. It may refer to almost any kind of meaningful activity or blissful experience, but without a single, widely-agreed definition”

I can definitely say that any spirituality I’m experiencing is separated from religion, but it still leaves me very concerned that it can refer to almost any kind of meaningful activity or blissful experience. I am struggling to remember any of my exploits in the running department being meaningful or blissful (blister-ful, yes).

My definition of spirituality is a constant drive to achieve something without really knowing why I’m doing it, where I am heading or indeed whether I will actually make it. Quite similar to religion after all…

[Charliecat5]

Walking not running… but hey… it was outside and in the mountains.

We have had this weekend planned for a long-time… a pilgrimage to the Lake District, just me and my Boy to conquer the mighty Scafell Pike together. His first time; my fifth.

Given it is the last weekend in October, I had been keeping a close eye on the weather, and it wasn't looking particularly good... Weatherline reports as follows:

• Last week the weather forecast was horrendous.
• On Thursday the weather forecast was horrendous.
• Yesterday the weather forecast was horrendous.
• Today… it was horrendous.

But we’re not going to let a little weather stand in our way, so at 9:30 this morning after a full English at the hotel, we were setting off from Seathwaite towards Stockley Bridge. It was windy, but at least it wasn’t raining (yet). At the bridge we turned left to follow the trail up Grains Gill and into the rain.

I can do hills… I’m quite quick going up hills… but the Boy (all 11 years of him) is something else. We raged up the hill, overtaking the only other silly sods out there this morning. But the weather! The weather really was going for it… It lashed, it howled, and it screamed with rage, with gusts topping out at 70 mph, straight into our faces.

We realised at this point that the Pike was going to be beyond us, but we still had Esk Hause in our sights. When I say in our sights, we couldn’t see a bloody thing. I pointed out to the Boy where Great End should be, but although we went past it twice, we didn’t see even a glimmer of it.

The higher we got, the windier it became, and when at last we peaked onto Esk Hause, the wind was just incredible. We crawled to the cairn at the top, tried to throw a stone on top, and then quickly turned around and crawled back.

To add a bit of diversity to the trip, we decided to come down via Sprinkling Tarn. This is when we discovered that thus far the weather had only been teasing us. Take a gale force wind, mix it up with a little rain, and then funnel it down a high altitude valley. Just horrendous.

It was at this point that the Boy slipped and landed flat on his face – hands, knees and chin covered in dirt and blood. A few tears, a quick cuddle and we picked up the pieces and carried on. There’s little choice in those conditions. What a brave little soldier he is (much braver than his Dad that’s for sure).

As we approached the final descent down to Styhead Tarn we experienced something that was both amazing and terrifying at the same time and something that I will never, ever forget. The Gill we had been following down the hill reached a point where, in theory, it was meant to tumble off the edge to cascade down as a waterfall… but the wind was having none of the usual laws of nature; instead, in a gravity defying feat, the waterfall was heading back up hill again straight into our path. All we could do was hunker down on all fours while each gust went over, and then run a few yards before the next one hit. The Boy was in tears and I wasn’t far off myself.

20 torturous minutes later and we made it down to Styhead Tarn for shelter behind a big rock ready to re-fuel on chocolate brownies and to have a chat to lovely guy who joined us for a while behind our rock. With the chat and brownies gone, the Boy was up ready to go on.

Now the wind was on our backs, but we still had to watch every step as the wind was just waiting for any excuse to pick us up and fling us over the fells. A little while later we made Taylor Gill Force and the last scramble down to Stockley Bridge before the final mile back to the car.

It was horrendous, it was wet, it was scary, but the Boy had a grin on his face from ear to ear… we had done it… we had made it. And as we stripped off the wet stuff and climbed into the car, he asked whether we could do the Cat Bells tomorrow!

Why not, I said. Work will wait, we have mountains to climb!

[marathondan]

Wonderful stuff Charlie, money can't buy that kind of experience and he will be recounting the tale for many years no doubt. (My lad is also 11.) Hope you actually got to see some scenery on the second day. Also hope Mountain Rescue didn't read your post.

[Sweder]

I've never seen let alone climbed that terrain.
It sounds wonderful. Your lad will never forget that, well done.

[Charliecat5]

I've never seen let alone climbed that terrain.

What! Borrowdale is quite possibly one of the most beautiful places in the world.

You must join one of our 'boys' walking trips. We usually fit in a little walking between the curry and beer.