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Snake Eyes
Having survived the rigours of both Almeria HM (early Feb) and first half of Moyleman (mid March), and maintained a good volume of training since late December, I hit a sort of late March slump, with nary a Twitten Run to show for my pains.
The Easter Weekend brought a Maundy Thursday celebration at the Pelham with Abyss flowing - to celebrate the return of Sweder to the fold after his overseas travails. And rashly, as another schooner of the hazy golden Sand Swarm was sunk, we confirmed what seemed entirely reasonable plans to remedy the running drought with a 10 miler the following day. "I have a route in mind ..." said Charlie Cat.
Good Friday beckoned and threatened rain later, so we headed out at the compromise time of 10am. The route was up from back of CC5 house and in virtually straight line west towards the Kingston windmill, up the right-hand of the V onto Kingston Ridge, on towards the Amex, beyond Castle Hill nature reserve ... and back down the Snake, up Heartbreak Ridge (HBR) and home.
That was the intriguing part for me. In all the time running out around the Downs, the Snake and HBR had been spoken of in many a running tale, but I had never encountered them. So for me, adding this key part of the local Downs jigsaw to my mental map would be a nice step.
From virtually the start and for the whole of the first 3k - all up hill to the top of the V - I thought it would be a step too far. I feared I would not make it much beyond 5k let alone 16k. My legs, my mind, my whole constitution rebelled, as CC5 and my partner effortlessly sailed ahead in front, while I remained in a discombobulated state lagging behind. At gates over and anon they stopped for me ... until we breached the summit and looked out across the South Downs Way.
And then - thankfully - things just started to click. My legs actually moved when they should. My feet bounced a little. And while I wasn't entirely combobulated, I was far from being discombobulated any more.
The run then became indeed the pleasure that only a Downland lope can be - with the grass beneath our feet as we swung along and past Castle Hill - joining for a few hundred yards with the Moyleman - before heading over to beautiful vistas over Woodingdean (well, as beautiful a vista as can be had of that area).
Now we swung back - and heard legend tell of how Radar got her nickname, pointing 180 degrees the wrong direction when trying to indicate the way to Lewes.
And we were upon the top of the Snake - and the magical views over to the north, east and west across the hidden valley at the base of Castle Hill Nature Reserve. Little had I realised each time I had come down that section of the MM (planning the route, marking the route, running the route) that the Snake was directly ahead of me. From up there, the area looks like no other I had seen - more akin to a gentle Scottish moorland valley than the usual downland scene. We paid our respects to the memory of Chris Moyle and pressed on.
As we curved back and back and reached the base, I now felt as if I could run forever. CC5 simultaneously reported his hangover had arrived with a vengeance. My partner just looked serene (as ever).
Such was CC5's affliction that a field of wheat and another of an unknown crop barely got us started on continuous vs batch grain drying techniques, before we had to face the muddy field start of Heartbreak Ridge.
I was content to allow the slippery surface to slow me to a walk - but CC5 was too and now suffering from cramp popping both calves. The forecast rain had arrived early, and the mist descended, and we turned north onto the slow slog that would take us who knew where? (well CC5 did, but he wasn't telling.)
But again, for me, this turned to be the most life-affirming section of the whole course. I had been down the Snake and marvelled at the views. I was now coming up the legendary Heartbreak Ridge. I had no idea what lay ahead and the mist and rain were swirling. Do runs get any better than this?
As we turned at the HBR top - I queried: was the Yellow Brick Road above us or below? Did we have yet more hill to climb or none? A familiar South Downs Way fingerpost gave me the answer - it was now downhill all the way back.
With a kind of inner whoop and plunging past a small group of walkers who were cocooned against the elements, we pressed on and down and through the mix of mud, chalk and puddles we headed down the V, on grassland back past the windmill and clocked just short of 18k by Jubilee Park and our end point.
Black coffee and the spot on CC5's kitchen floor where the pipes warm up the tiles were my just reward.
It is a run that will long stay in my memory.
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