June, so full of promise

[Charliecat5]

You know that ‘listening to your body thing’… yes that.

I set out last night with a specific route in mind.  I wanted to run through the ‘valley of death’ as it has been months since I last did so.

Trouble was, by the time I reached the top of the Kingston Ridge my left shin was in agony.  At this point what I should have done is turned around and hobbled back home to rest it up.  What I actually did was continue with the planned route.  The next section was downhill which eased the pressure, but running along the valley bottom was extremely painful.  My usual philosophy of ‘running it off’ just wasn’t playing the game.

At the bottom of Castle Hill Nature reserve I sat down, stripped off my shoe and spent ten minutes feeling sorry for myself. But this wasn’t going to get me home… so the shoe went back on and I headed up the hill, over the top and back home.  The pressure did ease a little and by dropping my pace the last 3.5 miles were sort of ok.  All in all, 7.5 miles of painful running.

Back home I did a little research and discovered that my Brooks trail shoes have a life of about 300 miles (which is pretty poor).  I have done over 500 miles in them now, so wonder if this is the cause of my woes.  Anyway, I’ve ordered a new pair.  I keep you informed.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Which Brooks? I've used Brooks Adrenaline ASR trail shoes and got waaaay more than 500 miles out of them. Best of luck with it. Shin splints are my least favourite most hated things.

[Charliecat5]

Which Brooks? I've used Brooks Adrenaline ASR trail shoes and got waaaay more than 500 miles out of them. Best of luck with it. Shin splints are my least favourite most hated things.

They're Brooks Pure Grit 3s.  I have loved them and I am perhaps clutching at straws, but my running style hasn't changed, yet I am getting this bloody shin splint and it's really pissing me off.  So as my shoes are starting to fall apart anyway, I thought I would try a new pair and see if they solve the issue.  

Reading some of the reviews last night highlighted that they have a relatively short half-life.  You might ask in that case, why have a bought another pair.  I would answer... ... ... 

It also might seem odd that I read the reviews at the end of their life... rather than before I buy them.  Hey ho.

[Charliecat5]

We live in interesting times.  As somebody posted on Twitter the other night: “The world looks grim today. The death of a women who wanted to make it better – and a sense that we are about to make a terrible historic mistake”.  Factor in what is happening in the U.S.: Orlando and the rise of the idiot Trump and it’s all getting pretty depressing.  I may shortly be booking tickets to a deserted Island somewhere.  New Zealand for instance.

It has also been very, VERY quiet on here.  Is no one running?

My running has been somewhat up and down (metaphorically as well as actually).  It has also involved running on wheels – two wheels – yep, I’ve been out on my bike.

So where to begin. 

I sent my bike in for a BIG and EXPENSIVE service.  So back a week on Monday I went out riding with the Porter the Gladiator.  The last time I went riding with Porter he was a mountain biking newbie and I bossed him over the trails and through the woods.  Two years later and he’s become the boss.  Fortunately, he had some mechanical problems which slowed him down and meant we had to stop periodically whilst he put his chain back where it was meant to be.  It was the only reason I kept up.  18 miles of Downland shenanigans and racing through woodland single track was a good way to re-boot my biking cherry once again.

There have been quite a few runs as well, but two particularly stand out. 

The first was a week last Tuesday.  Herd running was cancelled due to some sort of race taking place elsewhere, so I put a call out on Twitter for volunteers to join me for a jaunt to Caburn and amazingly BGG and River Man Rob decided to put in an appearance.   So at 8pm we met at the bottom of Chapel Hill and started to the long ascent to the top of our local mountain.  The weather has hot… DAMNED HOT… and humid… REALLY HUMID.  And there was lightening striking the hills all around with the rumble of thunder shaking the very trails we were running.  And no, this was not Sweder’s constitution for a pleasant change.

A gruelling climb to the top was rewarded with the most amazing stormy views back across Lewes and to the hills beyond.  Absolutely beautiful.  After a good 15 minutes admiring the view (aka recovering from the ascent) we set off to along the ridge through fields of sheep (and sheep poo).  It was along the ridge when I become aware of someone running towards us, shouting.  For a moment I thought it was an irate farmer, but having been an irate famer myself some years ago, I soon realised that it wasn’t.  It turned out to be a lost runner who was pleading to know the way back to Lewes… I invited him to join us – he visibly relaxed and dropped into our pack.  He was a reasonable runner which gave me the incentive to up my pace a little.  The run back down the hill was fabulous… with our new friend on my heels I hit a new personal best in terms of pace.   At the golf club we waited for the other two to catch up before setting off down Chapel Hill.  With the smell of beer in his nostrils, the big man reminded us what he is capable off and set one hell of a pace down the hill… a pace that I could barely keep up with.  He kept it up all the way to the pub, where it took four pints of their finest ale for us to properly re-hydrate. 

   
Picture thanks to Sweder

The second run took place this last Friday.  Again with a running urge to satisfy I put out a call for the usual victims to join me.  The usual plethora of excuses came bouncing back – working away, stuck on a train, beer festival, etc., but Mary-Louise answered the call and agreed to join me. 

Mary-Louise, runs with the Herd and has been known to run the Twittens.  We set off heading for the Kingston tops and the Valley of Death.  It was a glorious run.  Skylarks sang, the hills relented with ease to our pounding feet (I exaggerate a little), the valley bottom passed like velvet between our toes (well you get the picture); and Mary-Louise chatted away – she can chat.  

It was when we were climbing up the last decent hill of the evening that she mentioned that the longest run she’d ever done was 7 miles.  “Blimey” I said, “you’re going to beat that this evening”.  And sure enough as we crossed the finish line we had done 7.3 miles (which was 8.3 for Mary Louise – given she ran to the start line and back).  But what made it really great was the June weather.  Halfway around and the heavens opened with torrential rain.  I love running in the rain and through the middle of puddles.  Usually though, it is in the depths of winter.  Doing this in the ‘relative’ warmth of June was just great.   The only difficulty was explaining to my new running friend, why my shorts were foaming!

       

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Well done CC, good stuff. There's not a lot of running to report from my end of the world. The lack of a race goal combined with the arrival of wintry weather has been the main de-motivators, but I'll get back out there soon enough.

Tough though, innit, I mean with the world going crazy and everything..?

[Charliecat5]

The hard dusty track soon changed into a soft muddy trail overhung with sun dappled trees. Light bouncing of sunglasses making it difficult to see, before the trees left us behind opening up our world to the comforting and familiar views of the Downs.  

The soft trail gave way on occasion to deep troughs of sticky mud offering little recourse other than a run through their middles before the tarmac was reached, providing a glimpse of the road runners domain before we drifted back onto the path that us Down’s runners love so well. 

With legs warmed up the speed increased, the chatting hesitant as minds turned to breathing and the placing of feet between flints and roots.  Pushing our boundaries, we arrived panting at the gate that yields to the final leg of the outbound expedition.

Re-grouped we forged ahead, now at the mercy of the winds blowing ceaselessly over the tops; focused on the goal towering above us, sprinting to the finish in pain and elation before standing in awe at the views surrounding us.  Pain dulled by beauty as one by one we recover ready for the return home.

Arms out, feet free, we raced downwards sweeping the bottom as a rollercoaster, trying with all our might to retain the momentum as the path swung quickly, too quickly, upwards again.  Legs digging in the soft surface, lungs screaming in protest, toiling upwards to the second peak.  The views now showing us a slightly different side of themselves before turning their backs, leaving us to grassy fields and moody woodlands.

This is about running it in now, touching the path of times past as we beat over the roof of Lewes heading whence we came.

We stood huddled, elated at what we have just achieved, saying our farewells and then parting in different directions, our bond broken until the next time.  For me, I turned back to the Downs, not yet ready to give this up for the evening… time enough for a few more miles. 

   
Photo: Rob Read

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

And did you, Charles? Did you run a few more miles?

[Charliecat5]

And did you, Charles? Did you run a few more miles?

Yep... I've been running... over hills, along rivers, around boating lakes... with company and without... some slow, some quick... some hard... all hard... 

No running this weekend as have the lurgy.

[marathondan]

And did you, Charles? Did you run a few more miles?

MLCMM, was that a film reference?

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

And did you, Charles? Did you run a few more miles?

MLCMM, was that a film reference?

Are you telling me I don't know my own brother?

[marathondan]

Are you telling me I don't know my own brother?

Splendid, I thought. What did you think?

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Are you telling me I don't know my own brother?

Splendid, I thought. What did you think?

Name's Carrie.

American.

Slut.

[marathondan]

In the words of David Cassidy.