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Do you remember where you were when that next crazy idea took hold?

I hadn’t quite expected Chris’ grilling of what my five year goals were as we climbed the woodland path from Lynmouth to Rockford Inn but I think I rose to the occasion of being put on the spot by listing all the big races that I have planned for the next four years, the places I want to run, the adventures that I would like to complete. Not sure that was the answer he was looking for, and I swear I heard his eyes roll behind me, but that is the answer he got …

Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, the four year plan has been formulating in my mind, bubbling away, transforming into something tangible but had not been externalised and thereby, in speaking my plan out loud it now involves a new level of commitment.

In four years time I hit a milestone birthday … running the Marathon Des Sables in the April of 2023, potentially running one of the stages on my big birthday, is the plan! The stepping stones to MDS will be UltraX Jordan, a multi day race in 2022 … a chance to test the legs in a similar environment and conditions but without having to carry all of my kit. Seems like a logical step in preparation for MDS in my mind. In 2021 the big race will be the Kerry Way Ultra 200km. No logical reasoning in this stepping stone to MDS, just a test of distance and mental resolve through a beautiful landscape.

Countisbury overlooking Lynmouth on the South West coast.

So the first stepping stone in 2020, the beginning of the four year plan … to bookend my running year with Pure Trail events and every Pure Trail event in between, aiming to run the longest distance of all their races, although I may regret saying that if the rumours become reality. It means at this point in time the 2020 challenge will be Tsunami 24 … a 75 mile race along the South West Coast from Bude Castle to Westward Ho and back within 24 hours. With 5000 metres of elevation that is one massive challenge when my little legs have only run 31 miles at the Hurtwood 50k in December 2018.

The Hurtwood finish line was the moment when a shadow of the next crazy idea took hold. Nothing definite, the steps towards the MDS goal unclear. A walk along the South West Coast from Hartland Quay to Gull Rock and back again, testing my legs along 5 kms with 300 metres elevation that form a small part of the Tsunami 24, was the moment I mentally signed up for my next ultra.

Stepping Stones to the Sands of the Sahara …

Follow my four year running adventure to Marathon des Sables .. well that’s the plan.

PB Alert PB Alert PB Alert

PERSONAL BATTLE ALERT THAT IS!

That has got to be the hardest half marathon EVER!!! And that is without Mother Nature blowing an absolute hoolie with horizontal rain!!! it was like ‘It’s A Knock Out’ of the trail running variety in the natural arena of Dartmoor!! I feel like tiny me was battling against the weather Gods on a grand scale.

I ache in places I never knew existed, I used muscles I never knew I had, just to stay upright and grounded … or as upright as a human leaning tower can be. Amazingly my hips feel great … all the slip sliding hip swiveling mud seems to have loosened them up. Who knew that all they needed were a few hours of extreme workout on Dartmoor?

The first third was spent cursing, the swears whipped from my lips and carried on the wind far far away.

The middle third was sublime in comparison, the scowl transformed into a beaming smile.

The final third was gritted teeth and determination to keep pushing, get to that finish line.

It was by no means fast … my slowest half marathon to date at 3:18:54 … but somehow I managed to keep moving forward through headwind, crosswind, bog and rocky river paths. This memorable half has stolen my heart.

A hard fought medal prised from the fingers of Mother Nature … the first medal of the year, well and truly earnt.

The first Pure Trail race of the year completed, the first race for my first challenge … to complete the longest distance of every Pure Trail race of 2020.

Thank you Pure Trail for another super challenging event … I wouldn’t expect anything else. And a massive humongous gigantic enormous thank you to your team of amazing marshalls … from those at registration, those braving the elements to keep us on the right track and those at the finish line with cheers, hugs and medals … you were absolute super stars each and everyone of you.

Getting Hammered …

I was seriously considering my life choices 3km into the Hameldown Hammer … headwind resistance training was over and beyond what was necessary for a vertically challenged trail runner being challenged by the vert! Then hitting the bog with cross winds that were so angry I was buffeted sideways. If it wasn’t for the mud and water weighing my trainers down I swear my flying feet would’ve flown like Dorothy over to the next Tor. Headwinds then slowed down any descent to a standstill. It was totally mental. Survival sprang to mind!

By this stage the world and his wife had overtaken me, I was way at the back of the pack, and I half expected Chris to catch me up and overtake me on his seven mile race. Just to move forwards was a huge effort through boggy, rocky, vertical terrain battling unrelenting weather. Whilst I was flailing through thirteen miles of Dartmoors boggiest exposed massif Chris was signed up for the seven miler. As the half marathon set off before the Hameldown Seven I thought Chris might decide to just slope off and sit in the pub, and in a lot of respects I would not have blamed him. I’m pleased to say that he braved the wild wet moors.

At the half marathon and seven miler split I was seriously toying with bailing, taking the seven mile option! Good job I’m stubborn. Although thirteen miles of wind, rain blasting my face and battling with the elements wasn’t going to be pleasant it’s what I had signed up for … well the thirteen miles part at least. As I took the left hand route I was committed for whatever Mother Nature chose to throw at me for the remainder of those miles.

As we dropped down onto a road at the 5km / 6km point I finally found my running legs and a rhythm … finally the relentless rain and wind eased, the sunshine and blue skies appeared and the sheltered valley provided some much need relief and respite to mentally regroup. Bog, mud and paths awash like rivers are far easier to negotiate when the sun is shining … the landscape was absolutely beautiful. If I had bailed I would’ve miss this … this beauty, this dramatic landscape … so glad that I stuck it out.

Finally after running up river paths we were winding our way back with a tailwind assisting … at one point I was running up hill faster than I had run down hill, effortlessly, the winds helping hand meant for some unexpected foot placements as it scooped me up and threw me forwards further than I expected. Talk about exhilarating! Tracking round through woods and fields in the shelter of the massif I started to make progress. My legs felt stronger and I was catching up with runners ahead of me.

The last up onto the Hameldown massif was into the relentless headwind on an up that just kept on giving. Back to the crosswinds through the bogs on the ridge before finally heading DOWN!!! Down through mud, rocks, a path that was more like a river with a rocky river bed and finally onto tarmac … the steepest lane but such a relief on very tired legs, sweeping round a corner and I absolutely flew to that finish line! That was tough, I feel like I have been repeatedly hit by a hammer, my face was rain blast exfoliated, my legs felt like lumps of lead but boy what an adventure to make you feel alive!!!

Shock Tactic, Reality Check

Yesterday’s adventure was tough … the shock tactic has worked and my glutes have definitely been reawakened (today they are well and truly making me aware that they worked hard!!)

But what an adventure. I wish I had been quicker which would’ve provided more reassurance for race day but then again does pace matter where you are reccying a route? When your hip is in need of a little extra care? when the views are so beautiful it would be an insult not to stop to admire. If I admire now I can charge through this landscape on race day taking mental rather than photographic notes.

Listening to the sea, the sound of Mother Nature breathing … inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale … long deep breaths.

I saw two buzzards flying through the woodlands as I bimbled through the undulating rooted paths, such big birds of prey so elegantly filtering through the trees whilst I clumsily stumble run on legs that were already grumbling about the first sharp coastal climbs. I spoke to groups of hikers along the way, sharing banter, exchanging stories, particularly as I headed back towards them on my way back to Westward Ho, having passed them earlier on my way out. Up high on the exposed fields I was battered by wind and drizzle, but Westward Ho treated me with blue skies at the start and finish. The sunset over the sea with the moon shining overhead with 2k to go were cosmic. Chasing the daylight. I had packed my headtorch but I had no intention of using it unless I really had to, I was intent on making it back to the car before the sun fully set. I almost didn’t because the landscape, the sea, the sunset were all so distracting, lulling me into a false sense of security, no sense of urgency as the beautiful views magically mesmerised me. The moon’s appearance reassuring me that I would not be left in the dark should I linger.

I missed the company of my running buddy, Rosie, who would’ve pulled me along faster, although I would’ve held her back … those last hills back to Westward Ho were more numerous than I remembered when we ran them in the dark together on New Year’s Day. Companions really do distract from the up hill slog.

This really was a leveller … every 2.5 miles felt a very long way in terms of time and distance. Where on the road it would fly past on the coastal path the ups and downs along technical paths were unrelenting. When I say ups and downs I mean uneven step steps for giants and rough stone ankle twisting trails. No flat here! But I did it! And I did it solo without driving myself bonkers … wonder if that will be the outcome on race day after more than four times the distance? The hills will only make me stronger. 28 kilometres of the route memorised in my little legs … from the haunted house at Westward Ho to back again … and I almost made it to Clovelly!

Long steady hill climbs …

My hip wasn’t perfect but there was no pain, no flappy foot, no tears, no tantrums. So a huge relief and improvement on last week’s run that ended in tears. But it does make me wonder about my reaction last week. It feels like an over-reaction looking back now, with hindsight and diagnosis, reassurance and knowledge of what is wrong and how to solve it. At the time I felt so frustrated … it really did get to me! I wanted off the horrible rollercoaster merry-go-round and just run! Understanding the cause, knowing the solution certainly helps put things into perspective so I can deal with it, I can get off the dizzying never-ending circle I was running in and start heading forwards again. If nothing else it’s a good indicator of how much I want to do my best in June!

I’m not yet ‘fixed’ in that I need to manage this injury … prevent a flare up as much as possible and stretch out the piriformis when I can feel the sciatic nerve dully in the background warning me that it’s not happy. It’ll be ongoing, like a long steady hill to climb. Gentle encouragement to keep putting one foot in front of the other and allowing my legs to recover once we reach the top.

Injurosis

Injurosis … neuroses about niggles and twinges after an injury.

When it’s dark … and you can’t see anything … your mind overthinks … injurosis is inevitable.

Is the niggle the injury waiting to flare up? or is it the body awakening and grumbling about the new level of activity? Neurosis of every twinge, niggle, ache and tingle is in full over analysis mode! Is that another injury? is that the existing niggle or a new one? Why are you doing this to me? I just want to RUN!!!

Muted colours, muted mood as I set out walking at dawn, pitch black with only the restricted illumination of a headtorch beam on the way home, reflecting my internal feelings. Patience is not my best trait, in fact it is practically non-existent. So I’m trying my hardest to be patient. Patient … it is no coincidence that when you are a ‘patient’, with an injury or illness, that you have to be ‘patient’ with your body to repair itself. But that is what I need to be. A week off running to rest my backside for a while, to let the piriformis relax so that the aggravated sciatica can sort itself out.

Apparently I have a lazy ass which means I’m currently running like a wonky donkey, There’s not many people that would get away with telling me that, although Philippa was much politer and totally professional in her phraseology and explanation.

Basically the sciatica means I’ve been over compensating. One side is flexible whilst the other is as tight as a Yorkshire man’s purse strings. My form is all scrunched and my glutes are lazy! Office work and driving mean even more scrunch for extended periods of time. So basically I’m lumbering along like Quasimodo.

The answer … first off to stop panicking, stop over-reacting, be patient and listen to the warning signs. Then to do stretching, stretching and more stretching, foam rolling and glute strengthening, stretching and more stretching. Oh and some stretching and foam rolling and strengthening, Did I say stretching? Accept that I am no spring chicken, my body does not appreciate just getting up and running, it needs warming up, easing into the run and then gently recovering.

Not running has been doing my head in though. Sleep has suffered. And frustration levels are high, although I’m trying my hardest to hide it. Training was going so well before this new injury flared up. So I’m doing as I’m told, albeit begrudgingly. I want rid so that training can carry on hopefully where I left off. Oh and in a week I can get back to running, even if it is slow and involves walking, I can run! Which is a huge relief!

Training can resume with regular MOT’s to keep these legs moving …