Running

Last Sunday I ran the 9th race in my 12 month challenge, the Andy Reading 10K.  And, I will always remember this race as the one in which I ran with the deer.

It was in the middle section of the race as we ran a circuit around RAF Weston-on-the-Green.  Something caught my eye in the wide open expanse of the airfield.  There, a short distance away were two deer running like the wind across the field.  I pointed them out to the woman running behind me, both of us commenting that we suddenly felt inspired to run faster.  The deer ran off into the distance and I lost sight of them.  Then, as I rounded a bend, there they were again.  Except this time, they were only a few yards away running alongside me.  Though the deer were small, their quickness and grace made me fully aware of how we humans aren’t truly built for speed.

I didn’t want to get out of my warm PJs and head out on this cool wintry morning and run around for an hour.  But, as is always the case, there was some new experience, some nugget of joy that in the end made me grateful that I made the effort and overcame the inertia pulling me back to bed.  I didn’t run a great race, it was one of my slower ones.  But I ran alongside wild animals and it made me feel alive and connected to earth, nature, and the universe.

Getting rear-ended as I stopped to pay the 5 pence toll on the Swinford Bridge wasn’t the most auspicious beginning to race day.  As the woman who hit me and I pulled over, I only felt “slightly” awkward having this conversation on the side of the road dressed in full race gear, including my race number which was already pinned to my vest.  She wanted to strike up conversation and make excuses and I struggled to impress upon her that I didn’t have time to chat and was on my way to a race.  Surely my attire should have been a clue.

After we exchanged all the important details, I regrouped and continued on my way to Eynsham.  I chose this for my November race because it was local, just a short 15 minute drive (assuming you don’t get rear-ended on the toll bridge).  I’d travelled last month for the Great South Run and really wanted to focus on staying close to home for my next few races.

Like many of the races I’ve done over the course of this challenge, it was a small race, full of club runners and sporting a table full of trophies waiting to be awarded at the end.  As I looked around the school hall where racers gathered and picked up their timing chips, I noticed that I was starting to see some familiar faces at these events.  And at the start I happily found myself running next to an 80-year-old man I first met at a ParkRun about a month ago.

The race consisted of two laps around the town of Eynsham and, as the roads weren’t closed, there were strict instructions that no headphones were allowed.  Many races are getting quite strict about this and will disqualify runners caught wearing them.  I prefer running to music but in these situations, it’s totally understandable as it was important to be aware of traffic and the marshal’s instructions.  And, hats off to the marshals who worked this race, lining the road like connect the dots and keeping runners and vehicles separated.  At least I was running around to keep warm on this cold day, they were just standing in the road shivering.

I had hoped to improve upon my best 10K time at this race, but that wasn’t in the cards.  My legs felt like lead and, although I’ve trained plenty, they weren’t up to the challenge.  I’m placing the blame squarely on the cold I’ve fought for the past couple of weeks.  It certainly wasn’t doing me any favors and I know it’s affected my breathing and stamina.  At the end of my sprint to the finish, I could even hear the wheezing in my chest.

However, I did manage to chase down and pass a woman in front of me who was wearing the same running shirt.  Sometimes is just the small victories that make you smile.

I’m taking all of this as a sign that I need to take a little break and give my body some time to rest and recover from the lurgy that’s taken hold of my head and chest.  So that’s what I’m doing.  I haven’t run since the race on Sunday and I’m trying to get more sleep.  Half marathon training starts in a week so it’s time to feel healthy again.

On Sunday, I ran in my first BUPA Great South Run.  Billed as one of the top 10 mile races in the world, it was the first big marquee event in which I’d ever participated, the field had over 25,000 runners including elite athletes from around the world.  And it was the longest distance I’d ever run in my life.

In stark contrast to many of the smaller races I’ve done over the past few months (including one where they logged the results on a clipboard), the Great South Run was a big production including live TV coverage, elite athletes, DJs, organised warm-ups, and traffic. And as the UK braced for the arrival of a major storm later in the evening, it was also the first race where preparing to brave the elements was part of my pre-race planning.

When I arrived on the coast, it was clear the winds were already picking up as the storm neared, my car rocked back and forth in the gusts. To avoid the traffic, I’d arrived with time to kill before the race and took a cue from many of my fellow runners, staying huddled in the warmth of my car.  I’d ventured outside once to assess the situation and go to the loo, quickly deciding there was no way I was standing outside shivering for over an hour while I waited for the start.  As it turned out, the early clouds cleared and it was dry and sunny for most of the race.  The only element I fought was the wind and as I later discovered that was more than enough.

I’ve never been in such a big crowd of runners and the energy at the start was electric.  A man on a big hydraulic lift led all 25,000 of us through some warmup exercises and watching that many people lunge, stretch, and swing their arms in unison is a sight.  As we were in close quarters, it was also a challenge not to punch the person next to you in the face.  And the fact that I knew that way up ahead (a long way up ahead of me) were some of the world’s top athletes, well it made me feel like a proper athlete, and not just a recreational runner.

After the elite runners and the faster runners started the race, my group, the White Wave, moved from the back to the start.  The race organisers did a fantastic job of herding everyone and getting the race started on time.  Finally underway, the first mile led us along the seafront where we had our first taste of the tough winds, the cross winds pushed me sideways.  Even though there were 25,000 runners in the field, the race actually felt less crowded than some of the other races I’ve done.  In most places the course was wide and I never felt like I got stuck behind other runners.  And it was a nice super flat road course, hooray!

This race around Portsmouth was actually a pilgrimage of sorts.  Ironically, I grew up in Portsmouth, Virginia, and this was my first trip to its namesake, Portsmouth, England.  And as I ran around the city I couldn’t help but understand the connection that the early settlers must have made with the harbor and the shipyards defining much of the landscape.

The crowds that came out to support all the runners were just amazing.  Everywhere along the race route it was lined with spectators cheering us on.  There were kids with outstretched hands delivering high fives, drum bands, and even bagpipes.  Without a doubt, the high I experienced from the atmosphere and the other runners pulled me around the course during those moments when I felt my energy dip.

And it did dip.  Maybe it was the fact that everything after 10K was uncharted territory for me, further than I’d ever run before. As my leg had been a bit borked over the past month, I’d only fit in one long training run.  It was at about 7 miles when I hit a bit of a wall and wondered if I could really do this. Mentally and physically I hadn’t trained enough at longer distances.

To keep myself from starting out too quickly, I started at a slower pace dividing the race up into 3 x 5K runs, and running each in progression with a 1K run all out at the end.  And looking back at my splits, I did keep up my targets until about 14K.  That’s when I made the turn onto the seafront and my pace fell off a cliff.

Before the event, I’d read stories about how tough the last two miles of this race were.  But on this day, the pre-race announcer warned us that the wind on that final stretch would be even more challenging that normal.  He wasn’t kidding.  The wind was rushing off the sea and directly in our faces, headwinds gusting at gale force.  I struggled sometimes to even run upright, bending forward into the wind.  I tried to tuck in behind someone bigger then me attempting to break the wind.  Jim “Cancer Surgeon,” as the back of his bright blue running vest identified him, provided some relief.  Parts of me wanted to stop. But as I ran those last few hundred meters into gale force winds my thoughts took me to the heroic efforts of Julie Moss, crawling across the Ironman finish line and that put everything in perspective.  I could do this, and really, it was just a little breeze.

So I crossed the finish line in 1:33:40 with my hands raised in the air and smile on my sand covered face. I just missed my goal of 1:30 but I’m still pleased with my result.  I always remind myself that no matter what my time, it’s the taking part that matters and getting out there and running in the first place is an achievement on its own.  And as a friend pointed out, it’s a personal best for 10 miles!

A few things I’ve taken away from this race:

• I want more of the high I felt running in such a big event.  Despite the conditions, this was my favorite race yet and I know the atmosphere is what pushed me harder and made the experience more fun.
• Staying in good running shape means mixing things up a bit in your workout routine, and doing more than just running.  A month ago I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to run the entire course.  But a visit to the osteopath and a new yoga habit have already made a difference in my strength and flexibility.  I ran the whole race without stopping and felt pretty good the next day.
• I have decided to make peace with getting passed by people running in fancy dress.  In this race there were two bumblebees, one parrot, one Power Ranger, one gingerbread man, and one Batman.
• I know I’ve totally been bitten by the running bug.  I said to myself, “You know a half-marathon is only 3 more miles.  That’s not that far.”  And so…

To finish off my 12 month running challenge, instead of another 10K, I’ll be running the Reading Half Marathon in March.  And I am genuinely excited about training for this event. Plus it’s got a big stadium finish!  I’ve also filled out the rest of my race schedule with 10K races that primarily keep me close to home.

So friends, join me in a race!  Or if you can’t join me, sponsor me.  I’d love to smash my fundraising goal between now and March.

When I was hunting for races to run in September and found the ADP Highclere 10K, I couldn’t resist. I mean a race around the grounds of Downton Abbey?  Come on!  Even the race reviews that described “murderous hills” weren’t enough to scare me away.

So on Sunday morning I drove the 30 miles down the road for a morning out at Highclere.  My approach to this race was much different from the others I’ve run to date as it was the first I’ve run while nursing a minor injury, a strained hamstring.  I had rested it, taking the the majority of the past two weeks off from running. And on the morning, it felt fine so I decided to do the race.

But because of the hamstring and the murderous multi-terrain course, I knew it would be a super slow race for me. My only goal was to get around the course and enjoy the scenery, giving myself permission to stop and walk if needed.  I wanted to run but also didn’t want to make things worse.  Plus, I knew I’d stop to take pictures.

The main grounds of Highclere and the castle itself were closed to the public, the race start / finish, tents, and port-a-loos all setup in a field just a short distance away from the castle.  Spectators were required to stay in the confines of this field for the duration of the race.  The start reminded me of that at Lacock Abbey, just sign stuck to a tree.  No fanfare here and lots of club runners.  The Earl of Carnarvon himself started the race.

Right from the start, I was struggling to run with any pace at all, running the first kilometer over fields littered with deer droppings, uneven footing, and then uphill.  When we reached the first stretch of tarmac at the 1K mark I was grateful.  I am not a trail runner.

The course quickly led us toward the castle and we ran directly across Highclere’s front drive and past its front entrance.  The Earl and Countess of Carnarvon, owners of Highclere, were graciously on hand to cheer us on as we passed their notorious home.  It was certainly the closest I’ve ever been to the aristocracy.  I made sure to smile and wave.

After passing the castle, we began a journey through the deep woods of the estate.  The nice smooth tarmac then turned and headed deep into the woods where muddy, rocky paths awaited.  And, those murderous hills.  I decided to stop and walk at least twice, my lungs up to the task but my legs, certainly my injured leg, unwilling to keep pace.  Then, after a sharp right turn, the woods opened up to an amazing expanse of country side, the view stretching miles into the distance.

We then worked our way back toward the castle where we ran up what I felt was the most treacherous hill yet, its craggy face forcing me to walk again.  Thankfully, the final stretch toward the finish was an easy run on tarmac.  I did pick up the pace a bit at the end but didn’t risk a sprint to the finish.  I’m competitive but not stupid.  They were already handing out awards to the top finishers just as I crossed the finish line.

Despite the terrain and my poor performance, I enjoyed the race.  Because I’d given myself permission to take it easy, I did just that.  I smiled and waved at the race photographer instead of wearing my usual “serious runner” face.  I did stop and take pictures.  I turned my running app off and let my body be my guide instead of some predetermined pace I was trying to achieve.  And, I thought about what running has given me, an appreciation for my surroundings and the experience of the outdoors.

My only disappointment was that everyone who participated didn’t get medals.  I’ve got quite a collection of race medals developing and it was a shame not to add to it.

Finally, because Downton Abbey Season Four started in the UK last week and because I love you all, I’ve included a few more shots of the Grantham’s modest home from my visit there earlier in the Summer.

I almost didn’t run this race. I’d been reading up on the event details late last week and found myself getting totally psyched out about it. Cross country trails, stiles to climb over, it brought back memories of the ZEST Challenge and I wasn’t prepared for that this weekend. I don’t consider myself a trail runner and I knew that my training over the past few weeks had been inconsistent, the school holidays like a nuclear bomb that had obliterated my regular running routine. So the thought of getting up on Saturday morning to go do a trail run, I wasn’t mentally or physically in the game. I even went as far as to look for other options, easier road races that would still allow me to get a 10K race in during August.

But in the end, I decided the best course of action was to just face my fears and get on with it. Worrying about whether I was fit enough for this race wasn’t productive. And I knew that I was still fit enough to run 10K, it was just that I was starting to put too much pressure on myself to run it in a certain time. Also, I remembered why I signed up for this race in the first place. It was relatively close to home and would also allow me to explore a National Trust site and a part of England that I’d never been to before. And those were still good reasons.

The race was organised in partnership with the National Trust and the race route was around the grounds and countryside surrounding Lacock Abbey. The village of Lacock is so quaint and typically English. If you’re a fan of the BBC’s version of Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth (I mean who isn’t???), you’re familiar with Lacock. It’s also made appearances in a couple of the Harry Potter movies.

Immediately, I noticed that this race had a different feel than some of the others I’ve done. There were no portaloos, only the regular loos maintained by the National Trust which were quite a distance from the start. This definitely required some advance planning. There was no tent village filled with sponsors marketing their wares, no DJ entertaining the crowd, and no big blowup archway over the finish. The start was in front of the Abbey and was marked solely with some poles stuck in the ground. There were similar poles and flags marking the finish, no fancy chip timing here. It was small and homey, as if a bunch of friends has just gathered on Saturday morning for a run. In fact, the field was filled with club runners, all decked out in their club shirts and doing their warm ups together. As a solo runner, I do find this a bit intimidating, as if I’m crashing a party.

Because of the stiles we’d have to cross, they staggered the start. The men went first and then the women 10 minutes later. For the first part of the race, I ran through a field of long grass that tickled my calves and I had to watch my step so I didn’t end up in a pile of cow manure or a patch of nettles.

Headphones were banned in this race so I was left to pace by feel and just listen to my body, probably the best thing anyway given my inconsistent training over the past couple of weeks.

I did however latch on to a woman in front of me, Louise. At least I’m assuming that was her name as that’s what the back of her bright yellow running club shirt said. Louise seemed to have a nice easy pace and I found pacing myself with her helped keep me from starting out too fast. As we got to the first stile, there was quite a queue waiting to climb over it. And honestly, I didn’t mind the moment to stop and catch my breath. As we climbed it in turn, the field then began to spread out. But I kept my eye on Louise.

In fact, there ended up being a small pack of us following Louise, all trailing her through the woods and then along the tow path. She started slowing down and we all cheered her to carry on. Don’t stop Louise! We need you! But at about 4K, she decided that she’d done all she could do to carry us, we were on our own.

The course was an out and back which meant that we eventually started seeing the men pass us in the other direction as they headed for the finish. The course was quite narrow in many places and at times it was single file running with no opportunity to overtake (not that I was doing much of that). My pace felt OK, but I could definitely feel the inconsistent training. My legs just didn’t have a lot to give.

At about 7K, I picked up the pace and I did play a little of the jersey game, picking out runners ahead that I wanted to overtake. But also at about this time I realized that I’d chosen the wrong shoe / sock combination. I started to get some blisters on my left foot which made those last few kilometers tougher than they should have been. Lesson learned.

As I neared the finish, I passed two men. Yes, they may have been walking at the time, but they did start 10 minutes ahead of me so that felt pretty darn good. Then there were three of us who decided to sprint for the finish, side by side. Just past the finish line, one of them looked at me and said “Thank you, I needed that push to get across the line.” ME TOO. It’s when I crossed the finish line that I noticed the girls with clipboards taking note of each runner’s time. Aha! So that’s how they keep time without chips.

My only goal for this race was to run the whole thing. I knew that with the trails and the stiles, a fast time was out of the question. And apart from the times I had to wait to climb over stiles of varying configurations and height, I did just that. My official time was 1:04:05 but according to Runmeter I’d completed the 10K in 58:34, the extra time reflecting when I was stopped waiting to climb over a stile. And I’m very pleased with this result and that I stuck with this race and didn’t chicken out. Completing a 10K in sub 60 pace when my training had fallen off a cliff encourages me to keep at it. Because I know that when I do put in the effort I’ll be rewarded. Life’s funny like that.

After the race, I did take a little stroll around the village and I’ve resolved to come back for a more in-depth visit. I definitely want to take in the Fox Talbot Museum and learn more about one of the inventors of photography. But that would have to wait for another day when my feet weren’t aching with blisters.

Also, any of you runners who really know what you’re doing have any tips on post-race nutrition? Even though I run the 10K distance on training runs, I find that on race days I totally want to crash and burn and just have a good nap.

Race Schedule Update

My next race was originally scheduled to be in Prague but for a variety of reasons I’ve changed to something closer to home.  So instead in September I’ll be running around the grounds of Highclere Castle (AKA Downton Abbey).  Now how cool is that???  Anyone want to join me?