February 2009

[Sweder]

I'd kinda convinced myself this would be somewhere between an 8 and a 12 miler - a Wire or a Straight Snake at best. It turned out to be 14.49 miles of raw chill wind and mud-slide hills, a straight snake with a double-back to Rottingdean, Windmill Hill, St Dunstans and a cliff-top finish into a savage headwind.

A lot of familiar faces this morning; Simon, Stevio, le Soft, Suzie, Marion, Gillybean, Nigel, Fiona, Steepler, Mike Bannister . . . an honourable role-call. I steered clear of the quicks; that line-up is too rich for my blood. I elected to sit in with the newbies who have now split into two groups, medium-pacers and plodders. There's something rewarding about leading a new group up the slippery scales of Old Snakey. They ran it last week of course so knew what to expect. That didn't stop them from rolling in all wide-eyed and wind-blasted, looking like they'd rather be anywhere but following my fat arse up these treacherous slopes. I have to say I felt fantastic. All signs of Andalucian rust finally swept away across the English Channel, I felt positively Tiggerish, bounding along without any great effort. Perhaps it was the duty of pathfinder that added zest to my stride; I can't say. I just know it felt great to run well without pain.

It would seem that we have a rising star in our midst. Natasha, a quiet young lady (and a Vegan, which for some reason surprised me) who appears permanently frozen, waif-like, jacket-wrapped countenance shivering against the harsh seafront blast, has proven to be somewhat tougher than she looks. Crashing into a foul headwind along the last two-mile stretch of headland I was astonished to watch her accelerate into the distance, leaving the rest of us like so much dead meat. Her style, relaxed, upright, balanced, a seemingly effortless motion, suggests a natural talent. Sam's going to see if he can get her into London, where I have no doubt she'll do very well indeed.

As I hauled my rasping carcass to finish a couple of minutes behind her, I turned, hands clasped to shaking knees, to see how Natasha had reacted to her sprint finish. She stood, arms wrapped around her slender frame, barely breathing hard.
'I'm cold' she shivered through her modest grin.
'You're a very good runner you know' I managed between desperate gasps.
'Am I?' she giggled, seemingly embarassed that anyone should notice her at all.
Definitely need to find a tougher challenge for this one.