GUCR crewing, bank holiday blues, and friends will be friends...

So we fast forward towards the end of May and I was primed and ready to help my friend J with the Grand Union canal race. I am late in blogging all this because of the very busy time I've had over the last few weeks.

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)

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.

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.

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.

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.

Manchester Marathon and the recovery weeks

It's been 3 weeks since the Manchester Marathon and I haven't written down my thoughts, so I suppose I ought to.

I had a good build up, I'd been running quite well and all thoughts were geared to a sub 4 marathon. So that was it. Tapered down sensibly and waited.

In a blinding move, I'd booked the same hotel as last year, which was the Premier Inn right opposite Old Trafford therefore bang next door to the race village. It is nice to be so close to the start of a big event, no porta-loo queues for me, ha ha! So I rolled out of bed, made all preparations and assembled on the start line listening to the announcer's comedy chat. Didn't manage to see any of my club mates or anyone that I knew, so just waited and felt quite relaxed about the whole thing really. The gun went, it didn't take very long to get over the line and I jogged off to the announcer saying "there are 7000 finely tuned athletes here today" which drew a collective chuckle and snort from from about 6999 of us. The first few miles had a reasonable amount of support, and I was pleased to hear an unexpected friendly cheer from Jen quite early on, and to see one of the lads from another local running club on the other side of the road. It was going well. I thought back to last year, when the conditions had been hellish, and the conditions this year were pretty much perfect. Game on.

I can't really describe what happened to me, but somewhere around 8 miles things felt slightly harder work than they should have done. I think we went up over another road via a flyover so call that a "hill" if you like. It just felt harder work than it should have done. There were no problems with pace, I hadn't gone off too quick, so I tried to shrug it off as one of those things, but the next slight incline and I felt the same again. I wasn't injured but "it" just wasn't there. So I carried on, and got to halfway in about 1:57, realistically I was still on target for that sub 4 but in my heart of hearts I knew that I was going to be slowing down in the next 13. And it happened. I went through the suburbs, the support was great but it was a really really hard carrying on knowing I was doomed to not hit my target (I resisted using the word "fail" there).

I did learn something about myself. To carry on at 8 miles for another 18 feeling totally crushed was really difficult in the head department. I had 2 options - 1) was to make the best of it and hang on as best I could, 2) Was to turn it in to a jelly baby eating, child high-fiving, "woohoo I'm having a party and a reeeeally greeeat time" type run and clock a much slower time. I went for option 1) as I'm also aware you can have a bad patch and then have a really good patch in the blink of an eye, so I thought maybe something could be salvaged, even when at 22 miles I felt a massive BANG! in my trainers..  Broken toenail? Nope I later discovered a massive blister had gone pop but I didn't really notice any pain till I took my sock off later. Thankfully it didn't cause any running pain or change in my pace. In a comedy stylee I got overtaken at some point in the latter stages by a woman dressed as a giant tit. Humiliating and hilarious at the same time. You've gotta laugh. Fair play to her!

Do I look like a tit when I run??

There isn't much more to say. I jogged along the miles until about 24, when I caught sight of a similar club vest in front of me. My clubmate E had been going for a sub 4 as well, my calculations said he wasn't going to hit that target. It was a motivator seeing him, and I managed over the course of that next mile to catch up with him. I asked if he was OK, to which he basically replied "I'm f**ked, go on, save yourself" so I carried on hoping he would at least try to hold on to my tail. The support leading up to Old Trafford in that last mile or so was amazing, and if lifted me a great deal and I turned in to the finish straight and put on a bit of a sprint, saw R's husband on the line. Now normally when I see him I'm all "waaaaheeeey...woooo" with my arms in the air, but this time I had a real face on me and just stopped my Garmin on the line. I carried on moving and round the corner waited for E who came in a few mins later.

Happy face vs "a bit cheesed off" face

We made our way through the race village, and E got his bag in about 60 seconds which was a big improvement from 2012, and we both sat in the middle of the recovery area surrounded by happy smiling people looking like a right pair of grumps. He'd had a nightmare parking and we predicted a nightmare getting out of Manchester so I gave him shelter in the good old Premier Inn and we had a post mortem for a while. I think having to "look after" someone else was probably a good thing and took my mind off analyzing my own race. But when I did get round to it, what did my own post mortem discover? I did a decent amount of miles in training, and a variety of sessions and I have complete and utter faith in all the training I did. I turned up on the start line almost a stone lighter than 2012, and with bags more experience - 4 marathons in 4 days means I don't feel 26 miles is a long way, but trying to hold a certain pace over them is the gotcha. I'd had a couple of colds, but I think I was well recovered from the last one before the big day. The only slight thing I wonder about is having a bit of a dental infection going on around the same time, did it have an impact on my performance? It's all sorted now thanks to my lovely dentist but it plays on my mind. I concluded that I've had plenty of brilliant days in my running career so one bad day I'm not going to get upset about. 4:08 having had a shocker is not that bad.

The day after Manchester my legs felt tired but OK, and I headed off to Birmingham New Street to give blood. I turned up with my sports bag, and a passing comment by the nurse "been anywhere nice this weekend" "well...Manchester draw your own conclusions" "What did you do there" "Ran the Marathon" caused all the sirens, buzzers and red flashing lights to go off at the donor centre. After much chin stroking, huddled whispering and a phone call, I was allowed to donate after an inquisition about my water intake before, during and after the Marathon. As I was being de-needled, the man remarked that my next donation would/will be 50. Then a few days after my gold card appeared so I'm confused, but I'm pleased I've been healthy and been able to give so much.Thinking about it, perhaps giving blood the day after a marathon was not my smartest move, as I feel like I've had a bit of a slower recovery than usual, but I'm part of a study so there isn't much leeway with timings. My legs feel OK but on some runs my HR has been astronomical. Things are getting better though. I just have to be patient, sometimes I forget that.

In other news, the weekend after the Marathon I headed off to the lakes to see my friend, who was having a varicose vein operation the day I arrived, I did the hospital run. She is a tough lady, but had a bad reaction to the anesthetic so at 8pm I was at the Lancaster Infirmary having my formerly sensible, now space cadet friend wheeled down to my car by two nurses. After a 45 min drive home she got out of the car and promptly threw up (my drivings not *that* bad is it!!) but I got her in the house and to bed and was woken up the next morning to the sound of her doing housework. She has managed to get a job transfer to Cornwall so will be moving to her new house as soon as she can, which means more fun in the sun as opposed to fun in the rain.

Last weekend I went to see my parents (who are still adding creatures to their aquarium whilst continuing with their fish finger addiction). My mum has lost a bit of weight and is moving a lot quicker on her new knee now, I'm really pleased about that as it means she can do more stuff and keep up with the speed machine that is my father. I also swung by Wimpole parkrun, just up the road from where family lived, are buried, still live and where I spent a lot of time as a child. A great parkrun, a toughie but absolutely beautiful surroundings. I was pleasantly surprised to clock the time I did there. I will be back!

Just follow the country code, OK?

That brings us up to this week, the Hagley 10K on Wednesday night, which never gets any easier. I had an OK run, 2.5 weeks after a marathon I can't be expecting great things. It was good to get stuck in to a bit of effort though. I'm getting there. I've had my 1-2-1 with my new employer (we are all TUPE-ing from one company to another) they seem to be offering much better terms and conditions than my current company so I cant complain there. I think it will bring a lot more opportunities for all of my team which is a good thing.

Yesterday we had a work "It's a knockout" competition for Charity. I'm sorry to be un-pc in the light of the revelations about Stuart Hall (we drew the line at calling our team "the Stuart Hall fan-club ) :-S but I have still got the "It's a knockout" theme tune going round in my head as they were playing it on a continuous loop all day.

It was at the gorgeous setting of one of the company owned lakes/reservoirs. A few stalls and raffles, bouncy castles for the kids, a food stall (yes I queued 30 mins for some burned vegetarian noodles). I always feel these team events are a bit crap and cheesy, but I had a total blast and LOVED IT and the weather held out too - AT LAST! Perfect conditions. We were the most ramshackle team there (speaks volumes about IT?) everyone else was super organized and had team t shirts, a gameplan etc and we rocked up in different shades of navy blue tops. So I spent the afternoon doing inflatable assault courses, being a human table football player, dragging a little lady around on a mat, being responsible for a sumo wrestlers hat, and going on adult size space hoppers amongst other stuff. I encountered something I never knew existed, "tandem" space hoppers. Unfortunately myself and my colleague had no coordination here, and to the crowd looking at us the way he was frantically bobbing up and down it must have looked like he was enthusiastically taking me from behind - I was in hysterics, I haven't laughed so much in a long time. We gave up and reversed the hopper back to people who knew what they were doing. Despite our lack of skills on that event, 7th out of 22 teams wasn't bad.

Built for speed?

So next weekend I am crewing for a friend at the Grand Union Canal Race (Google it if you don't know what it is), looking forward to the adventure and outdoor life. So much I may invest in a she-wee, I'm sure being able to pee standing up will make me a completely superior being.

Sweet Home Wolverhampton...

A bit of a self indulgent blog, and not entirely about running. Possibly the old taper madness kicking in, but bear with, bear with...

The Wednesday after my seaside weekend I got another cold. A snotty sneezy one with a lovely husky voice  but not as bad as the one I had after the Cambridge Half. Still annoying though, and combined with the windy conditions we've had it has made all my running feel pretty shit - I've felt like a knackered old carthorse. Shoot me now. My brain says it should be feeling easier and it has not been. However my heart rate shows no difference really so in physiological terms I guess I'm OK. It's just in my head.

I've started to feel a bit down. I can't help it. Why is this? I can see how lucky I am.

I've had a few people at work recently take me to one side and mutter things like "don't let it all bother you". I have felt a bit stressed but have no idea what it is looking like outwardly to other people - they can obviously tell a difference. We have had a lot of stuff going on over the past few weeks (including my team being purchased by another company, so TUPE etc) I don't really want to talk about work in detail here - you never know who is reading, I don't have any axe to grind to be honest. I feel a bit on edge but in my eyes I'm not acting differently?! So dear reader, if you feel the need put a comment on this blog as to how you percieve me as a person in 3 words or something because I'm starting to wonder if I have a clue how I appear outwardly to other people in work as well as general life. Scary huh?

Some would say it's only work but I'm made differently. I can't stand not being able to do the best job I can possibly do, weather that is down to my own inadequacies (in which case mental self beatings) or someone else's fuckuppage - if someone else is the problem I'm consumed by inner annoyance that I'm usually too much of a pansy to have a go about. I am a I.T. technical geek (my purse is made out of recycled circuit boards 8-) ) and I like what I do, but at the moment what I'm doing isn't really challenging me. I wouldn't say I'm bored but it's getting that way. I also feel like I'm viewed as some sort of monkey only good for doing monkey work, and everyone seems to have forgotten where my skills actually are, one of these is being able to pick things up pretty quickly and apply them which I think is fairly rare - what a waste. I am torn in my feelings because for all its faults I actually quite like where I'm working at the moment and when they day comes I have to go - which will probably be soon, I will be really quite upset. I am actually scared of having to work from home again, I think I'd end up going doolally.

It's a good job home workers don't have webcams on teleconferences

My days consist of this work, and my evenings consist of sitting in a hotel room working. Of course I'm getting paid for this, I'm not STUPID(!) and no one is forcing me but it is tedious, there is more to life and I feel like I'm missing out somehow. I'm not sure what I'm looking for, and therefore not sure how to change it. Get out of current contract, find interesting work, spend time at home and consider what I want to do? Maybe one day I'd consider doing an Ironman - I'd have to be home based to train. I'd quite like to do a course in sports massage, and bootcamp with my pals, all of which require me being at home really. Gosh it sounds like a mid life crisis brewing doesn't it. Before you know it I'll have pink hair and a Ferrari.

Talking of being at home, ah... home sweet home. I have lived in my current place for 5 years. I own a house that I used to live in years ago over the other side of Birmingham, but for various reasons I feel this is not my "home" any more and I want to keep it as an investment rather than live in it so I have tenants that an Estate Agent manages for me. So I reside in my posh flat in Wolverhampton that I rent myself whilst my own tenants cover my actual mortgage. I love the place I'm living in. It is convenient for all aspects of my life at the moment, and I feel safe, secure and calm when I'm at home. The problem with renting however is you are sometimes at the mercy of other peoples cock ups, and this time last year the company I rented off folded, they took out too many mortgages at a time the banks would lend to anyone. So recession presumably equals non payment on their part, prompting all kinds of "YOU WILL BE EVICTED" letters in my postbox from the Court and Bank. I came to an arrangement with the receivers in April 2012 that they became my landlord and it was all happy happy happy for a year with a small black cloud hanging over in the back of my mind. I knew it couldn't go on for ever. I'm surprised I've been so strong about it. At times I've felt like I've been crumbling a bit but pulled it back. I know I'm not on the streets but this place means a lot to me.

So I got home Wednesday night to find a letter with some all too familiar franking and found myself muttering "shit shit shit" out loud whilst opening it with slightly trembling hands. It was what I'd been expecting for a year, and I've got to be out by the middle of June. At least I've had a reasonable amount of notice, and I'm quite a minimalist person with furniture and nik-naks but I've been making a conscious effort to not collect clutter since last years indicator of the issues. Seeing a date for leaving in black and white upset me though, and caused me not to be able to sleep on Weds night. If you're awake at 2 am you might as well have a look on Rightmove, right? There are almost 30 apartments where I live and it turns out two of them are empty and currently on the rental market. I managed to get viewings yesterday, one flat was tatty decor wise, one was really nice so I've moved quickly and I managed to get the nice one I wanted. So I'm moving literally across a courtyard. Weird but true. At some point I will leave for good, it's not where I envisage spending the rest of my life, but I want to take my time choosing a house to buy and "properly" settle down in.

At least my moving costs will be minimal, and having lived here for 5 years I know it's safe / quiet etc. But its un-nerving and it's another stress I don't need really. Can't help being a worrier.

However, on a positive note, all this is distracting me from thoughts of the Manchester Marathon, which is possibly a good thing! I'm hoping with a relaxing week next week I will be peaking in time to go for that sub 4 at Manchester. I'm running better than last year, I'm up for it and the weather can't possibly be as bad as last year. Can it? Well if it all goes tits up it's ok, I'm sure I will enjoy it whatever. I have worked out all the scenarios and plans in my head. What can possibly go wrong?!?!

Sleet, Fancy cakes, Sunshine and I do like to be beside the seaside....

Well I won't bang on about it, but after the Rhayader / Ashby weekend I went through a prolonged period of snotting, coughing and losing my voice. I guess my upper chest being covered in snow for 7 miles, 3h26m of breathing in and out cold air on both days didn't aid my recovery. Would have been nice to have had someone bringing me chicken soup, trashy magazines and re filling my hot water bottle with well timed sympathetic "aaahs" but instead I trudged up and down the M5 to work as normal and took to swigging at a bottle of #CO-VO-NIA!# from my desk.

Despite having been able to train as it was all above the neck, in my head I felt like I'd lost fitness - in reality I don't think this was true, I had not missed any runs and sensibly backed off a bit on run pace where necessary but it was all feeling a little bit tougher because of fighting the lurgi. My legs were OK after the double 20 weekend and Wednesdays hill session I surprised myself by having a better one than I thought I would despite reverting back to croaky afterwards.

*cough* *cough* *cough* *cough* SHUT UP!!!!!!

So the next weekend I was up in Cambridge to see my parents, also to run the Oakley 20. I had a great run there last year and actually got s bit of a tan. Well - on the Friday morning before Oakley weekend in 2013, "snowmageddon" had hit the Midlands as predicted; thankfully I got up and out to Bristol at a ridiculous hour before the morons hit the roads so it was a relatively stress free journey. South of Birmingham / North Worcester there was no snow at all, and in the evening I trekked along the M4 / M25 / A1M from Bristol to Cambridge. It was snow free on the ground but I had a horrible dark sleet blowing at the windscreen experience. Yuk.

I opened the curtains in Cambridge early on Saturday morning with a view to going to the Wimpole ParkRun for a bit of XC effort. However a blizzard was coming down heavily, I assumed they would cancel so went back to bed. When I surfaced at about 10.00am and checked - it was on. Gah!!! Oops. I'm not obsessive, but do I appreciate the benefits of my ParkRuns as a weekend speed session, so if I miss something like this I do try and make it up somehow later in the day. In this case there was no other way. A WU, a solo 5K effort at 5K pace and a WD.

Now I don't usually really care what the weather is, I will go out regardless. There is something quite nice about running in the rain in summer, overheating, the heavens opening and getting soaked to the skin with rain dripping off of your nose and off of the ends of your fingers, let's cut that romantic vision back to a "spring" day in March. This speed work session was horrific. I love my running but it was really soul destroying. The sky was grey, light snow was blowing in to my eyes, the wind was so fierce and bitter it was stinging my face to the point where it was quite painful. I managed a good pace but again it felt too hard. I went back to my parents and brooded over how shit I felt for the rest of the afternoon. Still, there had been no snow forecast for Oakley so that would be good. Ooooh a text. For meeee?!?! Oakley cancelled. Flippin' brilliant. I feel sorry for race directors when this sort of thing happens, it is a hard task organising a race and despite it being a total act of god, all people seem to do is moan about the cancellation and start fishing for refunds when it is just one of those things.

The next morning, we'd had a snow scattering in Cambridge. A photo appeared of the race HQ at Oakely - quite thick snow, significantly more than we had. I decided to make the most of the relatively good conditions in Cambridge and get on with it, at Oakley I was supposed to inject some pace in the middle miles, but hey a slow 20 is better than no 20. In the end, the paths were so good, I gave it a crack and managed to do what I was supposed to do. If you don't give it a go you'll never know.

The following week was still freezing, but I managed to crank out a monster speed work session, 12 x 0.33 mile reps with a relatively short amount of recovery. I've been doing these sessions for a long time, but I felt like I was flying that evening. I run the reps in these sessions just using the force, and all the reps were within about 3 seconds of each other, no drop off in pace at the end, so consistent. It gave me a boost to know my speed endurance is coming along well. I had to smile every time I whizzed past a solitary snowman that was still standing tall in the middle of relatively dry pavements on the estate we do our interval loops on. There are still large patches of snow on the fields even now.

Snow causes chaos yet again...

This brings us to the Easter weekend, and I was supposed to do the Maidenhead Easter 10. A duff car battery put pay to that. I can't say I was 'pleased' but I didn't really feel as up for it as I did for say, the Cambridge half so I think it's fair to say I was less annoyed than I could have been. I shifted my training around and did an easy run after getting things sorted, then off to Cambridge again. Having been in Cambridge quite a few weekends recently, the thought 22 miles round the same places didn't fill me with joy. Luckily on searching I found a trail race that looked interesting. 16 miles from Ely to Cambridge, meeting on the Common, get bussed to Ely and then run back along the river path. However with an imminent off road training run I decided to be sensible Saturday and do a nice tarmac parkrun and had my first visit to Bedford.

I think I was feeling a bit tired from the mid week speed work session, but I gave Bedford a good go. There were so many chattering people at the race briefing, I heard the lady go "blah blah bandstand blah blah finish" - ok I had it sorted in my head. I set off, feeling ok, pretty much steadily overtaking. After a couple of laps, I was convinced the next time at the Bandstand was the end, so I kicked a bit. It didn't feel quite right though and people appeared to be still going round. I usually run 5Ks again using the force, and glancing at my garmin I'd only done 2.5 miles. So I'd quite severely misjudged it. I managed to hang on for 24.49. I know parkrun is free and I do appreciate everyone involved in the running of these events but I'm positive my time was 2 places out - it was too big a margin - 11 sec - out and I did start my watch on the gun. I emailed the mailbox but not even a reply to say "actually we think we are correct". Oh well. It's a good course and I will definitely be back. Before and after the run I bumped in to C and A who showed me one of the best kept secrets in Bedford (I worked in Bedford for almost 2 years and I never found it). It was lovely to catch up with them and in the most amazing cake shop ever. I just stood open mouthed a the selection on display, like a kid in a... cake shop!

*drool*

In the end I went for the Neapolitan style sponge with the pink and white icing in the middle. It must have been about 20 cm tall! Yeah!!! :-D

Easter Sunday the eggs had to wait. The clocks had gone back, so *yawn* I was waiting for the race bus at 7.45 which was actually 6.45. Got on, dozed off for half an hour. Yes I am a finely tuned athlete poised like a coiled spring to leap in to action. The route started near Ely station, and follows the "Fen Rivers Way" back to Cambridge. The section between Waterbeach and Cambridge I know very well, the Ely to Waterbeach section not so much but the race briefing consisted of "keep the river on your left till you get to the Green Dragon pub in Cambridge, then keep it on your right, and follow the footpath signs with the Eel on" Okey dokey then. For off road it wasn't too bad. As it had been dry I decided to risk road shoes, especially as I was going to be doing 22 in total, and apart from some muddy / knobbly bits there was nothing very technical. Most of it was running on fairly flat grass. The landscape was flat, you cold see for miles the dark black soil and plastic crop covers. A food table at 10 miles was welcome, with Bananas, sweets and cups of coke / water. After this I knew where I was and the last 6 miles in were a breeze. On the line I got given a medal which I was fairly underwhelmed by, however I was overjoyed by the creme egg, and off I trotted around the backs and Newnham in the (very cold) sunshine. Happy days.

Last week was our club's handicap race, in memory of a gentleman who used to be on the running club committee, club Treasurer in fact. I decided not to run this year, I am rubbish at racing on dimly lit routes in the evening, and this close to Manchester I didn't want to risk face planting on a tree root so I did a fairly hard speed work session in the day. It is interesting to see here what people put down as a recent 10K time (!!!), this is how we calculate the handicaps - the slower runners go off first, the faster runners last, and in theory if we have got everything right (and we've been given accurate times) all the runners should arrive back at the club at the same time. It was really nice to see some of our 36 minute 10K-ers and 1:26 minute 10K-ers in the same race, coming in close together, having fun and pretty much everyone sporting club kit.

Some of the mighty SRC

We have had a lot of new members recently, but new and old it still makes me proud to see a bunch of such happy runners nice people all together at the club enjoying their running.

So the weekend just gone I had to do my last 20. Rather than do the same old routes, S had mentioned she was doing the Bournemouth Half, so I asked if I could tag along. The intention was to run 7 miles beforehand, and then the half. 2 miles in to the half I would go in to "turbo mode" for 10 miles (Marathon pace) and jogging in home the last mile. I got a number in the Half and I got a room in the same Hotel.

It was all very civilised - I got picked up just before 3pm on Sat, and by 5.30 we were at the hotel. Turns out the hotel was a) 5 minutes from the station where another friend was coming in from, and b) 5 mins from the pier where the race started. There was an Italian (well... ASK) restaurant across the road where we had a really nice meal, and a Tesco Express the other side of the roundabout where we could stock up on goodies (by that I mean bananas / bagels) for immediate refuelling after the race. The hotel was very old fashioned with flowery bedspreads (all that was missing were those toilet roll covers that are shaped like ladies in ball gowns), but considering the usual clientele that was to be expected. They were very accommodating, and when we announced our diva demands of cereal at 07.30, and "could we have a checkout at 2pm so we can come back and have a shower please" they were really really good about it.

Guardian of the loo roll

So at about 8.30 I snuk off to do my 7 miles. I went along the cliff top road, going down on to the front for 3.5 miles then coming back. On the way back it was actually quite warm, so I ended up doing a detour and going back to the hotel, bumping in to S, taking half her clothes back, getting changed in 30 seconds in to some cooler attire myself. I jogged back down to the start, literally 5 mins hovering around and the gun went off. Perfect timing. The first 2 miles of the course are a little uphill, so I was glad of the starting slow plan, then I attempted to do Marathon Pace for another 10. I say attempted because it felt hard. It messed with my head a bit until I realised the wind coming off the sea was actually causing this false impression of effort. My MP efforts were all sub 9.00mm apart from one mile with a major hill, so I can't really complain, and hopefully this bodes well for less than 3 weeks time. I liked the course, despite the wind the seafront was nice and sunny, and then in the later miles we wound our way up on to the cliff roads and back down again. It started to feel like spring time.

At the finish I had a chap almost pass out in front of me. Slightly disappointed I had to argue with a marshal to get not one but TWO bottles of water how dare I (one for me one for him) but I got let off when he saw my "patient" leaning against the railings looking like he was going to vomit. Mr queezy seemed to perk up quite quickly thank goodness, I need to get myself on a first aid course or something because I didn't really know what to do, no one was rushing to help and I felt quite out of my depth if I'm honest. After a few mins of me telling him to take some deep breaths and sips of water, he convinced me he was OK and that he didn't want me to find or get anyone so off I went. He was very sweet and said thank you and also well done on the run. I didn't have the heart to tell him about the 7.5 mile WU but if I was on the deck I'd hope someone would check if I was OK so the thanks was appreciated.

I was glad to have a shower at the hotel, it was quite warm out there and 3 hours back in the car would have been a bit of a stinky experience. We had a somewhat slower drive back, stopping to get some drinks and also dining at the Little Chef on the A34 near Oxford. I'd clocked it on the way down, it looked like it had been refurbed. They are not really my scene, but by the look of things the menu is similar to what it has always been, with was some new / interesting and even vaguely healthy stuff on there, we were actually quite impressed. I felt my face glowing on the way home. I have a slight tan.

And there you have it, last 20 miler done for now. Taper time - let insanity commence.

Half PB and back to back 20 milers

It's been a busy few weeks.

A couple of weekends ago after getting back from Cornwall, I marshaled at the Inter-counties XC in Cofton Park, Birmingham. I was up at some ridiculous hour for a Saturday (and I thought park runs were early!). The Inter-counties is a major event for which runners have to qualify. The National XC held in Feb is different - anyone affiliated to a club can run, no disrespect to anyone I love running the National, but my mother could run if she was a UKA affiliated club member. To run in the Inter-counties you have to place quite highly in your County championships in January so it really is the best from the country, and the top few at the Inter-counties go off to the World XC. So the Stourbridge RC  "A Team" were out setting up the course from 7.30am, playing join the chalk dots with stakes and tape (must get the advertising on the inside so the cameras can see it) ironically the UKA is sponsored by the food of champions - chips!

Highlights of the day included:

• Seeing a water-bed like bit of ground bobble around with the weight of a grown man on it - this got cut out of the course - lightweights! 
• A freebie sausage and bacon roll breakfast
• Close ups of some cracking XC running
• A near cat fight at the front of the U17 ladies race. Meeow!
• A freebie packed lunch
• Seeing one of our SRC runners running for Worcestershire
• A nice fuzzy feeling from having given something back. I was that cold at times I could barely feel the fuzz, but it was there.

What do you mean you're cutting this bit out of the course?

After the senior men's race had finished I hot footed it to the car and made my way to Cambridge. At times at Cofton Park it was very cold and I spent the following 2 hours with the car heaters on full toasting myself which looking back I think may have not been the best thing for my health. I got to my parents and sat eating fish finger sandwiches for tea whist discussing the new additions they have made to their aquarium! Off to bed to rest up for the impending Cambridge Half.

The Sunday morning of the Cambridge Half sounded awful before I even got up. I looked out of the bedroom window to see a light covering of snow outside on the gardens, but this hadn't really settled at all on the actual roads and the sky looked grey, windy and sleety. I pushed some porridge around my breakfast bowl, and soon enough it was time to go. Cambridge seems to be the recycling centre of the world, my Mum and Dad have at least 3 different coloured bins and I was soon sporting this seasons little black number - a long wheelie bin liner. Off I toddled for a nice long 2 mile WU - believe me I needed it in that weather. I timed it well, I got in to the start pens before the crush, but not too long before so I wasn't standing around for ages thankfully. However the weather did its best and as we were all huddled waiting for the gun to go off there was a huge arctic blast that produced a collective yelp from the crowd. One slight criticism of the start pens - there was the "elite pen" sub 1.30 and then "1.30-2.00" pen. That seems to be a big variation for the second pen. Sure enough, as we got going, I turned a corner and came to a virtual halt behind the well known phenomenon of the gang of ladies wearing wings walking 3 abreast,  I think I shrieked a little "nooooo!" which I didn't manage to keep under my breath. Sorry.

I had a bit of a plan for Cambridge - I ran the Maidenhead Easter 10 last year at about 8.15s, and felt I could have gone on, so I decided to go out at 8.15 ish at Cambridge and see how I fared. I do a few parkruns and XCs as my "short distance" races but really it had been a whole year since I'd "raced" a half (Cambridge 2012!) and I hadn't done any specific training. These days racing 10K and 10 miles is few and far in between too. Anyway, despite the 'fairy' hold ups, I hit the first mile dead on 8.15 and there it stayed, some were a little quicker, some slower but nothing over 8.30 pace.  Cambridge is flat, but there are some gradients and twisty turny bits that bunch up the runners and require a bit of negotiating that slows you a little. I also kept double taking round the course, thinking I was seeing someone I knew - turns out it was an old teacher I had at 6th Form College, whom I saw at the end. Thank god for that, I thought I was hallucinating her! I had a slight downer when a man got very pissed off with me for accidentally squirting my Iconiq water pouch at him. Dearie me, there are bad things happening in the world and you're giving me "the look" when a) it was an accident and b) I said sorry and c) you're a bit wet already?!

I don't really have much else to say apart from I ran quite a well executed race, and despite the wind, sleet and rain I felt quite strong. As the time ticked by I didn't feel massively tired, although the last couple of miles I just wished it would stop 'effing blowing a gale in my face - all of my photos, and no I've not purchased them - show me gurning trying to see where I was going. As I came in to the finish, I knew it was a decent PB, although it was a bit hard to tell as there was no clock on the finish gantry. I crossed the line in 1:48:40 - about 3 mins off my previous best. I was a bit pissed off to find that in the results I am down as chip time 1:50 and gun time 1:51, and some ridiculous split for the 1st lap that would have meant I was running at 7:55 pace. I don't really care, I know what I did but the one time it really matters to me, there is a cock it up. Frustrating. Afterwards I was so wet and cold I didn't really want to hang around, so I did my 2 mile WD home and rifled through the goodie bag. Nice medal - check. Crisps - check. Cereal Bar - check. And... an individually wrapped prune. WTF!

One of these things is edible

My legs felt a little tired I could definitely feel I'd run a bit faster for a bit longer than a ParkRun(!) but a hot shower and I was right as rain (no pun intended).

Monday morning I woke up and the first thing I was aware of was that my throat felt like I'd swallowed razor blades. And my legs ached - in fact most of my body did. Looking back a weekend out in the cold, including the transition from the cold Cofton Park to the 40 degree Sahara heat of my car on the way to Cambridge was probably the kiss of death and my ear nose and throat and the germs must have had an orgy. OK, ok it's just a cold, and friends have had things much worse, but it was and still is slightly annoying - snottyness and a muzzy feeling that would not go away. As it was above the neck, I stuck to my training  during the week despite feeling a bit yuk, I have found that I feel better after a run (and it helps clear the snot out - tmi but it's a fact). The snot factory has kept on producing all week, a busy week and a late night at the Birmingham Leauge XC AGM on Friday listening to folks arguing about the definition of a Student - don't ask - meant I felt really tired. Not great but what can I do.

So this weekend was a big one. My two favourite 20 mile races on the same weekend, Rhayader 20 on Saturday and Ashby 20 on Sunday. These are two very different runs but they are both lovely. I did the same combo last year.

I'd had a conversation with a fellow runner, Becca at the Stamford 30K about Rhayader, she was also doing Ashby (and will eventually do Comrades this year), so we hooked up and went to Wales together. The good thing about Rhayader is that it is in the middle of nowhere in Wales, which means that the race starts at a civilised time: 1pm, often taking in the warmest part of the day - or so I thought. The weather in Rhayader village was cold but bearable, I did wonder if I might have overcooked it with a thermal top and gloves under my vest and long tights but I figured some bits could always be removed, a lot of the real racing machines had opted to wear vest and shorts. We did the loop of the town, and then we were off out and upwards. The Rhayader climb is a funny one, it is all runnable, but every year you see people hammer it too fast and walking by 3.5 miles. There is also a "false summit" at about 5 miles where you think you've reached the top but you haven't - the top is at about 6 - you know you've made it when you can see the ambulance(!) and the water station. Despite being full of cold and snotting in to my gloves before 2 miles had gone, the climb did not feel quite as long or steep as previous years. Progress!

At the top, I noticed that some small flakes were starting to fall from the sky. They were bouncing off my arms and gloves. Hail. Hail was OK, it was bouncing off of me and on to the road. In your face weather!!! The weather gods obviously twigged I was feeling smug, and seemed to turn things up a notch and the hail got worse. As we started the descent, the snow came. And came. And came. I glanced at my garmin to check what pace I was doing, and I couldn't see it. my wrists and forearms, as well as the top of my buff that I had over my forehead and ears, and the top of my chest and half my race number were caked in snow. 7 miles came, and a jolly marshal was directing us round the bends (we must have been) and I made a point of sincerely thanking everyone from that point onward because I was freezing cold running, they must have been hypothermic standing around for us. The snow at this point was settling quite deeply on the roads, and even the sheep were lining up against the walls to try and take shelter. The few cars that were out were gingerly navigating the bends, and cyclists had got off their bikes and were walking. I've done a lot of races in a lot of different conditions but for the first time ever in a race I questioned what it would be like if it really went wrong. If it went wrong here, a person would have been in serious trouble. These conditions went on until 10 or 11 miles, when the snow eased a little, it was still blowing a blizzard in our faces but no snow underfoot any more. By about 15 it had gone back to cold and grey. Still the hills, fields and trees were very breathtakingly pretty in the snow, this is what makes this race worthwhile. Because of my cold and not wanting to go too hard, I was running to heart rate to keep it easy and came in at 3.26 - maintaining pace and steadily overtaking in the 2nd half and feeling fine. I think that is a course PB, I've always run it easy but come in around 3.30. In 2013 I was just pleased I had survived! I found Becca who had finished not too long before and gone to buy a coffee (more to hold and warm her hands than to drink) and we made our way back to the Midlands. We went through blizards on the way back, as well as avoiding several kamakaze pheasants. No loss of life - it was a good day. I've stolen this photo from another club's website - it doesn't do the conditions justice, but imagine all this snow has come down in the space of a few mins:

Turned out nice again...

As soon as I got back, I did a Wonder Woman change and back out again to go to a charity quiz evening, to which I'm afraid to say only myself plus a couple of others turned up to. We figured it was the weather, the lurgi going round and the fact comic relief had cleaned everyone out the night before. We cleared things up and went to the pub instead. On the way home from Wales and Saturday evening generally I found I was losing my voice. I felt OK, and my legs felt OK, but I think 3.26 of breathing freezing air in and out didn't help.

I woke up on Sunday morning and my throat felt odd, not sore, but tight. I suspected I was still probably sans voice, turned to my teddy bear and muttered "good morning". It was confirmed. My voice was gone but thankfully my legs still appeared to work. Sarah picked me up at 7.30am, and we had a leisurely trip to Ashby, taking in the services at Tamworth for a hot chocolate which seemed to make my voice come back. We parked at the school which seemed to be quite a way from the race start, but mercifully the loo queue was short and we had a mooch around before the race  started. We got lead out and started, and after a few miles I teamed up with a friend/club mate of Becca's and we ran most of the way together - it was lovely to have the company. On the second lap I saw the familiar figure of Ruth's husband, and despite having been snowed on yet again, managed to muster a smile for the camera:

In anticipation of the hoodie....

As usual the marshals were great, the atmosphere and goodies are why I love this race. Things were much improved this year by a few quite hot looking blokes on bikes cycling in the opposite direction round the course cheering us on. I don't know if they were anything to do with the race, but they made me feel better - as did the water stations stocked with chocolate, jelly babies, gels and nice bottled water - I hate cups. The field at the end was like a cross country, still I felt very strong and came in at - 3.26. Never let it be said I can't pace myself. Think that might be a course PB too. We got a lovely green hoodie, but my hands were so cold and damp and the hoodie so soft and new - I put it on and looked like I had some kind of mould / green fur skin complaint growing out of the backs of my hands. I had my cheese roll whilst waiting for Sarah, the only gripe I have is that she came in around the 3.50 mark and they had run out of goodie bags. She was running at 11.30 pace, and by the law of endurance training someone looking to run a 4.20 marathon might well be doing their LSR at this pace. Doesn't encourage people not to race 20 milers really. I'll get off my soapbox.

The walk back to the car probably did both of us good, and on the way back we stopped for a recovery dinner at the only place we could think of - the Beefeater on the Hagley Road in Birmingham. Well impressed with my chicken dinner, and I couldn't eat it all so Sarah's cat was also impressed on Monday.

I felt a little tired on Sunday night, but that was more to do with the cold than the mileage, and I'm pleased as in the last week or so I've had quite a few decent runs despite being a little under par. I've taken things easy where I've needed to, and at the time of writing have a slight cough and snotty nose that is on its way out, so hopefully when that goes it will be all systems go again. Rargh!

Barnstaple ParkRun and Duchy 20

OK, so I am officially insane. I drove to a ParkRun from Cornwall on Saturday.... it was in Devon. Not the closest one (none are particularly close) but I wanted to have a good go at a 5K on a decent-ish surface rather than a cross country mudbath 5k. Barnstaple it was. I look at my diary coming up, and with various things going on at weekends, I have to take the opportunities when I can to get to ParkRuns. My rationale for this one was that I could have a shower afterwards and go onward to do touristy things on the way back.

So I was up at some unearthly hour (and I mean *really* early) on Saturday to go to Barnstaple. It was a nice enough scenic drive. I parked up at the "Tarka Tennis Centre" (I'm sure that was a film about otters when I was younger...) as instructed by the ParkRun website and I started running around to find the actual park, it is on the opposite side of the river from the tennis place. Not a problem but I think if I'd left getting there to the last minute I wouldn't have been too impressed - I had to accost a man in running kit to make sure I was going the right way. In typical style, you go to something like this and then see people that you know from the West Midlands (who are also down there for the Marathon on the Sunday) small world eh.

I did a 2M WU which gave me a good recce of the park, it looked quaint, some turns, and some bits of uneven path but noting major, and worked out you do one half lap and two full laps. 9.00 am and we were off. I can't say much apart from I just ran, and I felt really really good despite it being short distance. Most of the way I was chasing another lady, we swapped places a couple of times and she probably made me have a better race by the fact that she was there, she beat me by a few seconds I just couldn't match her pace at the end. My pace dropped off a little on the last mile, but I was fairly consistent and still felt good enough to muck about in front of the Camera. I cannot believe I actually did a Mobot. Tw*t.

Outrun by a child - again

I came in at 24:22 and I probably could have pushed a bit harder. Pleased with that. With 5Ks I tend to just run, and then analyse the Garmin stats to death afterwards. My 5K PB is 24:11 on a course that was subsequently re-measured and made a bit longer(!)  and this one was slightly long so I think it is fair to say I had a really good run on Sat. 2M WD, and off to use the facilities in the tennis centre. A brilliant arrangement, showers were spotless and piping hot, the changing rooms were lovely and warm, and no one else seemed to want to use them. I left feeling refreshed, invigorated and smelling of pomegranate.

Because it is somewhat out of season, most of the things I thought about visiting on the way back appeared to be shut. So as it was getting close to lunch time, I decided to see what was in Bodmin. I parked up, walked in to the main street(?) of the town and I just got a bad vibe from the people walking around, bad vibes from the shops and there didn't seem to be much to actually do or see apart from Bodmin Jail. Don't get me wrong the surrounding moor was very pretty, but the town (unless I've missed a gem) seemed a bit sh!t. I grabbed a pasty and ran - sorry if I've misjudged the place . I decided to go to Wadebridge and take some photos of the bits of the Camel Trail I'd run on Thurs. It took a lot of willpower to stop me from buying large amounts of fudge/chocolates from the many gift shops from there, I managed. Just. A quick trip via St. Mawes on the way back to look around and back for some Saturday night pasta eating.

Sunday came around, and I was quite looking forward to the 20. For me running 20 miles is not really a massive deal any more, and the plan was to run easy but put a bit of pace in there. I did the first 10 super easy, and then stepped it up on the second 10, using my HRM I set the Garmin to beep at me if I went over a certain HR. On the flat and downhills I was quite easily hitting my MP without the self destruct bleep of death going off, but it definitely served the purpose of making me back off on the uphills. Ruth's husband was taking photos at Barnstaple, and also at the Duchy, and it was nice to see a familiar face with him (and seeing Ruth running at various points) popping up on the course. I simply felt brilliant all the way round. This race DQ's ipod wearers, and I noticed 1) there was no one flouting the rule and plugging themselves in up the road 2) the support was so fabulous from other runners, marshals, people standing outside houses and sunday cyclists I never felt isolated or in need of any tunes to keep me going. These peoples words were good - people saying how good I looked, how strong I looked and I felt it - I felt upright, in control, strong, happy, chatty and in my element, even on the climbs. Because of the slow start I was overtaking all the way, and it's an ego boost. The 20 miles just flew by.

How to make a 20 miler look like fun

I love the way the hotel in Redruth gives itself over to the Marathoners and 20 mile racers, and at the end we were greeted with a medal, and a good selection of fruit, water, squash and CHOCOLATE BARS! On top of that, going back in to the function room, there was a huge pile of warm pasties, which was a nice touch, all these 20 mile races finish around lunch time and I was ready for some food. Lots of people were lounging around, hobbling about and having trouble getting up from seated, but you know... I could have got up and quite happily run another 10k my legs felt that fresh. Long may it last, and if I feel that good on an undulating course I'm hoping it bodes well for Manchester.

Raargh! You wouldn't like me when I'm angry...

On the way home from the race I had a bit of a trauma, I hired a car to come down here because mine is a tiny 2 seater with no boot space - and 8 miles from home I got a puncture (massive hole in tyre - sharp thing in road?) in the middle of nowhere. With everything being shut at that time on Sunday and no spare (a useless can of slime where the spare should be) I had to get towed home, then towed to Truro this morning when ATS opened. No biggie but it messed up my evening plans slightly and my Monday plans, it all turned out OK as I met my friend today instead and we went to a lovely pub and had a lovely long lunch whilst my tyre was being sorted.

It's nice when your lunch winks at you

That was all a bit of a pain, but hey it saved me car parking fees in Truro and also she pointed out it could have been worse and it could have all happened on the way to the race. When I got home tonight, I walked down to the little beach that is 10 mins from the house and sat there for a bit, it seems like one of the most peaceful places in the universe. I didn't know, but it appears that some of the D-Day landing boats going to Normandy left from the very same road my friend lives on. Amazing really. I can't get cross about things like punctures when things like that have happened just up the road.

No caption required really

Sadly my time is coming to an end here for now, but a bit more running and sightseeing to do first before it is back to the humdrum life.

Camels, fish and chips and giant bees

I know I don't have a hard life, but just recently I've been feeling a bit like I need a holiday. Work has been very busy and at times has left me feeling a bit frazzled. I just notice I'm doing things like misreading instructions, missing obvious things, forgetting things, and having poor concentration. It's been manic. Or perhaps I am just getting old.

You may have heard me refer to my friend in the Lake District. She is an example of how good things can happen to good people. She has a magnificent house in the Lakes where she currently lives and works - her job basically involves walking around the Lake District all day (nice in summer, not so great in Jan/Feb). Many years ago whilst a farm worker, she purchased a dilapidated barn which she gradually built in to her home whilst living in a caravan in the garden. Of course with property prices being as they are up there, this house has become more and more valuable over the years, and sometimes her work colleagues visit and in a slightly looking down their nose tone ask "how have *you* managed to get a house like this?". Her reply simply is: "I BUILT IT MYSELF". Part of her plan in life was always to move to Cornwall where she goes on holiday a lot already (there are a lot of dog friendly places for her 3 dogs there). The past few years whilst down in the area she has been actively looking for her dream house, and in 2012 she found it - with it being "the one" she had to move quick - with some financial wizarding, she managed to buy it but is not moving in full time for a couple of years. Of course the move from up "there" to down "here" is a big one, and as friends and family and her go down to stay in the Cornwall house, they take bits and pieces with them - saves a bit on moving costs and hassle.

So this week it has been my turn. I've wanted to do the Duchy 20 for a while but it was logistics that stopped me with it being so far away, so I arranged to go down to the new house for this weekend and a few days either side. I was about to type I've never been to Cornwall. I have, but not in a leisure capacity; I spent the 10th and 11th September there 2001 when I was working for the South West RDA. Why do I remember this, well obviously that was *the* September 11th - my boss and I were driving back from the Truro SWRDA office to Birmingham and had been chatting all the way until one of the chaps in our team rung me at about 5pm when we were still only as far as Taunton. That is my memory of Sept 11th - being oblivious in the bubble of the car, then turning the radio on to listen to the events of the day as they had unfolded, open mouthed, speechless and close to tears at the sheer horribleness of it all.

Wednesday I was working in Bristol, and I had packed up the car at 6am that morning so I could carry on the trip from there after work. I did a bit of lunch time speed work on Weds, a 6 mile run that included 4 miles at Half Marathon Pace effort (since I've got a Half in just over a week I thought I'd better see what was what). After getting a virtual ticking off by Gobi for not being arsed to get a new Heart Rate Monitor for 9 months I've also started wearing one again. Well it went ok - I managed a faster pace than I thought for what I *think* is HMP (according to HR is was HMP). We will see. My attitude has changed. I think I can do the pace I want to do at a half, and I'm prepared to die trying. Go hard or go home. I've changed as a runner - it catches me unawares sometimes but mentally I have a really different attitude to a couple of years ago.

V's instructions were perfect and I managed to get to her house and in to the house with no issues by 7pm, unloaded the stuff and I was sat down relaxing by 8.30. I'm a bit sad but part of the fun for me of going somewhere new is planning different places to go and do my runs and what to do and see. It sounds terribly toursity, I opted to go to Padstow and run some of the Camel trail (along the river Camel) because of easy navigation and a town at halfway. So that was decided Weds night. I switched off the lights to see lights twinkling on the horizon from the kitchen windows and went to bed.

When I got up in the morning, the following sight greeted me:

Rooms with a view

Magnificent. This house is the wrong way round, bedrooms downstairs and kitchen / sitting rooms upstairs, but you can see why. All the living area looks out over the estuary to Falmouth.

I got to Padstow and parked up, and started running along the trail. To anyone local I suppose it might not be very special, and it's probably not the most spectacular scenery that Cornwall has to offer, but looking at the sand, the seaweed covered rocks, the little birds with long legs and long bills probing around in the mud for their lunch is really different for me and it was very relaxing running. I ran over bridges, past massive piles of what looked like slate (?) and towards and through the little town of Wadebridge. Then, simply put I turned round and ran back. If there had been any sort of reliable bus / train service I might have carried on to Bodmin and done the whole thing one way, but hey I can save the Bodmin bit for another day I guess. This run was going to be 12 miles in total, by 10 miles it was lunchtime and I could hear the sound of my own stomach growling for the last 2 miles, so popped some warm clothes on and went in search of food. Camel trail half run, I saw no camels.

I don't know what Padstow used to be like, I'm guessing Mr Rick Stein has put it on "the map" and it has probably changed a lot. As far as I could see it is full of gift and tourist shops selling sweets / shells / surf clothing and then a few bistros. Being a low maintenance girl, I homed in on a chippy. I knew it was going to be nice when I walked in the door and fish lady asked me for my order so they could cook it fresh rather than taking a piece of dry fish from under the heat lamps. Yes I was hungry, but it really was lovely. Then it started to rain, so I stood in the chippy eating this gorgeous grub listening to the owner talk to some of the locals about this and that, so-and so's-pneumonia and tutting at the stupid tourists trying to drive down a one way street. As the rain died off, I did have a little wander around. Probably not the best place to do any shopping, but I got a few bits for presents etc and I have to say in Padstow it is really easy to blow an enormous amount of money on rubbish if you are not careful. And you can't sit down on a bench or anything without being harassed by birds!

Cue Jaws music

Walking round the quay, I managed to find an ice cream parlour, so that was pudding sorted. As I was asking for my double chocolate cone, the same locals who had been in the chip shop came in. I just looked at them ice cream in hand, and said "I'm having a healthy day today". I explained (I desperately volunteered the information trying to justify why they had seen me in both of those establishments) that I'd just run 12 miles, and I was doing the Duchy 20 at the weekend. The old man said he did that every week. I told him I'd see him on Sunday then ;)

This run incidentally was the first proper test of my HRM - I have to say I was pleasantly surprised at the HR vs the pace, e.g. I seem to have a much lower HR for a given pace than I used to.

After my gastronomic blow out, I decided to have a little walk around, and came across "The national lobster hatchery" which thought I'd have a look at whilst I was there (thank god they weren't selling lobsters I'd have probably eaten one of those too). Quite interesting learning about all the beasties and how they are looked after. "Goliath" was quite impressive, as were the teeny little baby lobsters. I also love the way they are trying to make lobsters cool - "Adopt a lobster for your wedding guests" etc and surprise gift ideas. Careful opening your mail folks - if I send you a rubber lobster it means I like you :)

Surprise!

Today I ran from the house towards the King Harry ferry and back, it was a question of time. Places in Cornwall seem to be not many miles away, but a long time away. Not that it bothers me I'm in no real hurry, but I wanted to make the most of the planned visit to the Eden project. Another very low HR run.

I wasn't sure what to expect of the Eden project. My degree was in biology, and I definitely had a leaning towards the plant/biochemistry/microbiology side. The only animals I was interested in were insects largely because of their relationship with plants. The place is amazing. It seems so well structured and thought out, and interesting at every turn. They say it is all environmentally friendly and organic and stuff but the insects seem to appear to be genetically modified:

Pass the Jungle Formula

Tomorrow, if I can get out of bed at an ungodly hour for a Saturday, I plan to drive to the nearest park run  which is a long way away. I'm not going to say how far because it is insanity to go that for a 5K, but there you go, I've never claimed to be normal.