For the uninitiated, the GUCR is a running race that goes from Birmingham to London over the late Bank Holiday weekend and is 145 miles. J had run in and completed the race before, but this time wanted to do it for charity and also to do a slightly faster time. Helping with this was not something any of the crew had entered in to lightly, it's bad enough if you are running the thing, but the crew also get no sleep, no washing facilities, have the stress of trying to find canal bridge numbers in Milton Keynes whilst avoiding doggers, and a proper toilet is like a vision from heaven. It is worth it though to help someone through this amazing feat, J does a lot for the club and is responsible for a lot of the improvements in my and other club members running. In the weeks leading up to the event I had been stowing away supplies of strong deoderant, baby wipes, insect repellant, sun cream (we can all hope) and yes I did go for the she-wee. There were 3 of us forming "the J-Team" (geddit?) support crew.
The day before rolled around and I had been in Bristol at work. I came home, and flopped in to bed on the Friday night just as 'Have I got news for you' was starting, and fell asleep to the tones of a posh bloke trying to be funny, so about 9.15 I was in the land of Zzzzzzzzz. The alarm rudely woke me up at 3.20 am - it's a funny time and one I usually only see once a day, that hour between 3-4 am seems like neither day or night. I was in Stourbridge by 4.10am, trying to squeeze my stuff (yes I did pack light!) in to the back of a Vauxhall Astra and feeling remarkably chipper for having had an early night. We drove to Gas Street looking out of the window at the short skirted high heeled girls still tottering around, and groups of blokes outside kebab shops on Broad Street, ohhhh welcome to Birmingham. We parked up at 5am and were greeted with familiar faces, some I knew well, others I'd only heard of (Infamous?) and lots of people wearing very loud shorts and trainers. The shoe choice of the day seemed to be Hokas. The colour and the platform heel factor was amazing - it was almost like seeing a spice girls reunion.
The race started at 6, and there seemed to be quite a few people who made the start line, with these events you never know. It was a strange atmosphere when the gun went off, most races this noise causes a mad dash sprint and jostling for position, but here it was all slow slow slow and some people had actually started off at a walking pace. We waved J off and headed for the Catherine De Barnes checkpoint, getting there early we parked up and had a catnap setting my phone alarm to wake us up in time. We saw the first runners come through, some of them with their own crew, some of them unsupported so stopping at the bag area to get more supplies. It was here a chap was scrabbling around in front of me and we both did a double take - it was Geoff who also did the 4 marathons in 4 days in Donegal last year. Front and back of field reunited once more, I was checking in around the 4.5 hour mark, he was checking in more like 3.15-3.30(!). It was great to see a friend in such an unexpected way, although I had a suspicion he would be at the front end of the field and that I wouldn't be seeing much more of him. (In the end I think he finished 7th in this race, he's a great runner over all distances it would seem)
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| We'll meet again... |
The next checkpoint we went to Hatton locks, looking forward to some breakfast (I did manage to force some All-Bran down at 3.45 am, yes I am the only person in the known universe who likes the stuff). So breakfast number two was looming, some nice grilled bacon, eggs and beans. The poor woman in the cafe was swamped. I now realize that the term "all day breakfast" probably refers to the amount of time that it takes to get the plate to the table. We rushed off to the next meeting point after I had burned the roof of my mouth by rushing down some thermo-nuclear hot baked beans.
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| Worth waiting for? Probably not. |
After that it is all a bit of a blur really. We kept meeting up with J, the day was getting hotter and hotter and she needed us every few miles even if just to see a friendly face. We had the bright idea of cold water / ice foot baths to try and stop the inevitable early on, but no one had brought a bowl along, so we did a detour via shops somewhere near Birdingbury. Could we find a basic washing up bowl in Homebase? Nope, so her feet got bathed in a miniature plastic storage box - only the best for our J. We sat at Braunston Marina in the afternoon sun studying this weeks guest publication, "Towpath Talk", we were falling asleep reading it and then being woken by the sudden shock realization that one of those boats can cost more than a small house. We saw Heart of England, Stoke Bruerne, and as the light was starting to fade J got to the bridge where we had cooked up the culinary delight that is boil in the bag byriani, it was what she wanted(!). At this point buddy #1 was dispatched to run with J through the night. We waved them off in to the night and the remaining two of us left having packed all the stuff in the car realizing we were approaching the metropolis that is known as... Milton Keynes. At this point I began to feel quite rough due to lack of sleep, (yes I know, I know... I wasn't even running!) I decided to get a bit of shut eye in the car whilst my partner in crime did the meet up stops. I did learn that Milton Keynes stretch of canal is not the nicest place to be at night, there are all sorts of odd things going on. I got back in the car and tried to get some more sleep. I only came round at the Tesco at Leighton Buzzard, where it was so fecking cold I thought my fingers might drop off, in general the weather at that point was weird - between 5 and 7 it was absolutely freezing, and by 8 it was quite warm again.
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| J taking shelter from the sun on day #1 |
Sunday morning J reached the Grand Junction arms checkpoint at 99 miles, and appeared to be flagging. We took her shoes and socks off for a foot bath, and her feet had swollen, big blisters were forming and one of the soles of her feet looked like it was about to split *retches* :) I got dispatched to be her buddy for the daytime bit. It was warm again, warmer than Saturday and slower going. There was talk of stopping. I was trying to jolly things along and said we'd just go to the next meet up point with the boys. We did, had a snack and carried on. More talk of quitting. I texted ahead that we needed a morale boost, and so we carried on. We then got to Berkhamsted and sat down outside the lock where the two pubs, The Boat and the Rising Sun are located at about 105 miles. The boys turned up having had a nightmare parking and as they sat down J laid out all the questions, and started answering them herself, we didn't intervene. This was a good thing because we all thought she should probably retire, but didn't want to say anything. She rang the race hotline, retired and we all sat there in the sun for a couple of hours - the 3 crew members crashed out on the concrete like dead bodies. I could hear her talking to people who were asking what she had been doing, but I was simply too exhausted to join in. J's husband came and collected her (they stayed till the last finisher came in at Little Venice), and we set off on the way back, having catnap stops at the services on the M1. Got home at 9pm and fell in to bed. Zzzzzzzzzz.
Bad timing, but on the Bank Holiday Monday, I started my first day of boot camp / circuits. I've done this sort of training before, and really enjoyed it and I wanted to mix it up so started again. Unfortunately being a Bank Holiday, the sessions were slightly altered and I was up for the 06.15 session. A brilliant fun workout, but with the madness of the weekend I came home, had some breakfast and went to bed re-surfacing at 2pm. I'm loving the boot camps. It must be good if it can get me out of bed at 05.40 in the morning to go and jump around an all weather pitch. So far the boxercise session has been my personal favourite. I must admit by the end of that first week my arms and abs wondered what had happened to them, but the second week, despite being harder intensity feels better. I think I can feel a little difference in the running.
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| I aspire to be like this man |
Running, well I'm building back up the training for the 100K at the beginning of August, keeping rolling on. I won't bore you with the details but looking forward to getting out to a few parkruns again. I had a slight downer on the bank holiday Monday after an incident with a car. I was running along past a newsagents, and there was a car parked on the pavement across a drop kerb. An old lady got out of the driver side, and I ran past the passenger side (it was either that or go in to the road). As I went past, the young man in the passenger side flung open the door with some force on to my arm. It was enough to send me flying and make me feel instantly sick which made me think he'd actually broken my arm just below the wrist. As I was hyperventilating on the floor, he went to speak to me. Now bear in mind I am a softy who hates confrontation:
Him: "you should look where you are going"
Me: "No really I'm FINE THANKS"
Him: "You should f***ing watch yourself love...<random effing and jeffing> I ride a motorbike and I have to look out for people opening their car doors and pulling out on me all the time"
Me: "Actually I think you'll find you're illegally parked on two counts, and you just carry on blaming me if it makes you feel better for BREAKING MY ARM!! Oh and by the way mate, I've got your number plate!!"
He gave me daggers and went in to the shop, I limped off holding my arm in the air. I did actually try and cross check his plate on the DVLA website but in my fluster I got it wrong, I wondered if the shop had CCTV, and if I should report him, but I suppose it's not really an option. It was the unprovoked nastiness that really hurt me. Had the tables been turned I would have been falling over myself to apologize and help, either he was a class A knob or this country is going to the dogs. I got some helpful texts from friends regarding what to do, in the end I left it overnight and it felt better. Over a week later, in fact it will be a fortnight on Monday I still have a massive bruise and it still hurts a bit, and hurts when I prod the "impact site". Might see my GP about an x ray but I'm not sure if I'd be wasting NHS time.
So the day finally came last weekend when I moved out of my lovely apartment due to landlord defaulting on his mortgage but still taking my rent issue. If you've read the other blogs you will know that this was coming, 31st May I got the keys to the new place (in the same set of apartments, just a different block) and after a rock and roll night out with work that Friday night (= Pizza Express, diet coke and being chaperoned back through Broad Street to the train station by two handsome young men) Saturday was moving in day. About a month ago I was wondering about how I would move, and was quite touched to find 4 people from SRC (and a two year old boy) offering to help, two people from Dudley Ladies and one chap from work who is like my twin brother. W & H turned up to the new place at 8.30 and started steam cleaning (they love cleaning, W was desparate to clean my oven(!)), all the others turned up at 9.30 and by 12.00 everything was pretty much over things just needed arranging and sorted which I could pretty much do myself. Having had an irrational fear of some of the appliances not working (when I moved in to the old place the washing machine was dead) I was pleased that I managed to do a wash and dry. However I've since found the dishwasher is f***ed - not a disaster, but more importantly the boiler was dead, both in heating terms (not urgent) and hot water terms (urgent - if I'm in heavy training I'm wanting to have 2 showers a day!) My landlord has been good and really proactive in trying to sort it but various faffings and warranty calls means the manufacturer engineer is coming out on Monday and I'll have had no hot water for a week since moving in. I have the keys to the old flat for a while so a toddle over in my PJs and have a shower - but that isn't the point is it? I just want things to be normal and they are not. Also because I've been living in a block with no one else in, it is weird to hear footsteps and noises from the flat above, I guess I'll get used to it again - it's not Waterloo station but relatively speaking it seems noisy. The new flat seems more spacious and better laid out, in that respect it is better, I still resent having to move because of someone else's cock ups.
But I am grateful for my friends. Sometimes in the middle of the night when it all seems quite depressing and I feel very alone, I think of how they all jumped in to help and I feel a lot better even though it does bring a tear to my eye. It is muchly appreciated and something I won't ever forget.
