Runners are a strange breed. Get two or more people running together and during the course of their run they will talk to each other about life, the universe, and everything. Get two or more runners together when they're not running and all they will talk about is running...
[If you are of a delicate nature, or have a weak disposition, then scroll down to the paragraph which starts "For Gods sake..." Everybody else - read on...]
[If you are of a delicate nature, or have a weak disposition, then scroll down to the paragraph which starts "For Gods sake..." Everybody else - read on...]
But almost every runner, myself included, will every now and again take somebody out for a run with them that they don't really want to take. That person grumbles along, making them feel uncomfortable, making them change their pace & slow down, until, inevitably, that person makes them take a pit-stop. Who is this person, you ask, and why do people take him running with them? Well, the truth is that no runner has the choice whether this person accompanies them or not. This person is - The Gingerbread Man. No, not the fairy tale about a Gingerbread Mans escape from various pursuers and his eventual demise between the jaws of a fox; this Gingerbread Man is the curse of all runners.
Gingerbread Man, and the use of his name for evacuation purposes, was brought to the publics attention by Tony Audenshaw, who plays Bob Hope in Emmerdale, during one particular episode of the weekly Marathon Talk podcast. As Tony once said, and so many runners will nod in agreement, "once your stomach switches to 'bomb doors open' there's no going back - an attack is imminent". Now, I am blessed with a number of conveniences on some of my running routes, so why, during my long runs are they not always open? Thankfully South Gloucestershire Council open their loos early and the ones in Kingswood & Hanham have both come to the rescue on many an occasion, even though they are only a mile from my front door. Thankfully there are also two loos to be found on the Bristol - Bath Railway path (although rumour has it that on one occasion a group of runners were to be found early one morning, stood around in the Gents, sheltering from the rain & drinking Bucks Fizz...) Further afield I have had to make use of many public conveniences throughout Bristol, one in Uphill, W-s-M during a race; as well as various pubs and branches of Burger King, McDonalds, Morrisons, Sainsburys, & the Radisson Hotel (my apologies to anyone who went in there after me). And still, even with all these conveniences, there has been occasions where I have been forced to bite the bullet, throw caution, modesty, and decorum, to the wind and bare my buttocks to nature... There's nothing quite like a handful of grass, leaves, and stinging nettles to help focus the mind early on a cold & wet morning...
For God's sake! Quick, stop painting nasty mental images and change the subject!!!
Okay on Monday I had a rest and didn't run. Well, nearly a rest with no run. Well, okay, I didn't run but I swam 34 lengths instead. But I used floats so that I didn't have to use my legs. So that sort of qualifies as a rest doesn't it? Possibly...
Triple Tuesday came around again, as indeed it does on most Tuesdays, with the exception of Christmas and New Year... A 5.5 mile run to start the day, arriving back home at 6:45am... A lunchtime swim coaching session during which I beat my distance record again and swam 58 lengths. I could have gone further; but they roped off the shallow end for swimming lessons and I nearly garroted myself... The evening saw my return to the track (after an 18 month absence) and it was, predictably, cold and damp. The session itself, 8 x 400m, with 90 second recovery between each 400m effort, wasn't too bad; it's the amount of effort you put in that hurts. I managed to complete each repetition in 78-79 seconds although by the end I was really struggling to keep going at that pace. Obviously, the harder you push yourself then the less your body can recover before you have to do the next effort. Only you can decide how hard is too hard... It was also nice to find I wasn't the only one with a 'Triple Tuesday' on my schedule, so maybe there are some who read this and think, "I feel your pain..."
Wednesdays 14 mile run was done straight after work in an effort to free up some time in the evening, but I failed. Three, ever decreasing loops from home, but with me never any further than 5 miles from my front door was a good idea, especially as the Gingerbread Man paid me a visit, forcing me to make a pitstop at the 9 mile mark. On the down-side, it probably wasn't the flattest route that I could devise but it was easy to remember; and after the day I'd had at work, easy was just about all that my work-addled mind could cope with. Oh, and a van driver, who didn't know what his wing mirror was for, chose the exact moment of my passing by to swing open his door & jumped out... How I joyfully questioned both his eye-sight and parentage as I bounced first off the van door, then a wall, then him as I rebounded back... On the plus-side, I did manage to listen to a Doctor Who audio story (Voyage to the New World) whilst I was running. (Oh no, no banging tunes, no Gangnam Style music to run to; just a story about the sixth Doctor travelling with two elderly Victorian gentlemen...)
Work commitments meant that Thursdays 5.5 mile recovery run didn't happen until stupidly late in the evening (but at least that meant that I also had the maximum amount of recovery possible between Wednesday & Thursday). Saying that, it was absolutely bloody freezing cold when I did get out. I swear that I heard a brass monkey complaining about a loss of assets...
As cold weather was forecast, warmer running kit was duly packed for Fridays lunchtime run around the same Compton Dando route that I had done the previous week. And the weather forecast was wrong(ish). Long-sleeved shirt & leggings were duly greeted by warm winter sunshine. Over the next 70 minutes I think I sweated out more fluid than the Evian bottling plant gets through in a day... A good easy 10.5 mile run in the countryside can't be sniffed at. At least isn't wasn't raining; which these days is nothing short of a miracle...
Saturday started with a short, early morning 5.5 mile recovery run before a quick spot of breakfast followed by a jaunt up the M5 to the Cotswolds; there to lodge with the in-laws for the night in preparation for Sundays race - the Naunton 19.
It was cold when we arrived at the in-laws at Saturday lunchtime. It was bloody freezing when I went for a jog around the block first thing on Sunday morning though. On our drive over to the race start in Naunton the temperature gauge in the car registered -5c !! (Fact of the week: The 1998 Grand National winner, Earth Summit was prepared for the race in the village of Naunton.) The sun was shining though as the starting time got closer, but the temperature didn't rise much; or if it did then I was too busy shivering to notice... At the allotted time we set off across a field, startling horses along the way. but, after a lung bursting uphill start I started to warm up quickly and within a mile was suffering from a 'kit malfunction'. The chest-strap on my rucksack, whilst there to do a job was actually restricting a full inhalation of air. I snapped it open & tucked it away before plunging down a hill towards the first checkpoint. Here I stopped, stripped off my fleece hat, gloves, and gilet, stuffed them into my rucksack & carried on with words of support from MrsC ringing in my ears. Within a mile I was regretting losing the hat as my head was freezing. I decided to sacrifice a warm neck for a cold head and pulled my Buff up over my head instead. This was how I stayed for the rest of the race. You have to remember that this race was in the Cotswolds so it went up, and down, and up, and down, through some stunningly beautiful countryside & picturesque 'chocolate box' villages. The ice in some fields disguised the deep wetness of the terrain, and getting really wet feet just before the halfway point wasn't much fun, especially considering how cold the ground was, but all in all it was almost perfect running weather. A cold fog descended as I headed into Guiting Wood so I had to delve, once again, into my rucksack for a pair of gloves as my extremities began to feel the chill factor. At the final checkpoint I was greeted by the frozen figure of MrsC who had spent the morning cycling from checkpoint to checkpoint in order to follow the race. (Bless 'er. By my estimations she must have cycled 15 miles over the course of the morning - and I reckon that at least 14 of them were uphill...) I pushed on over the final hill, past yet another frozen lake (I think it was a lake; it may have been a field) and gratefully crossed the line in tenth place with a finishing time of 2:22:00. Now, don't get me wrong, I was very happy with my time and the tenth position I attained, especially as I was using the race as a tough training run for the London Marathon. The average 7:45/mi pace wasn't too far off the 7:30/mi 'easy' pace I usually manage on the tarmac. However, even after getting changed, putting on warm dry clothes and drinking several coffees, my body was still numb; in fact it took several hours for my feet to thoroughly thaw out afterwards.
Weekly totals:
Run miles: 64.96 (most miles I've ever run in a single week)Swim lengths/metres: 100/250m
Sit-ups: 640
Press-ups: 320
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