My
back was sore, my knees were aching and I was grumpy. I was sure the
paths would be flooded in front of me. I thought I’d probably need
to stop for the loo sometime soon. I was grouchy and it was cold. I
was 3 miles into my intended 20+ mile run and things weren’t going
well. I couldn’t really call for a lift home from 3 miles away.
Well I could. But it would be shaming. It would be like getting a
lift to the end of a parkrun.
Just
to add extra grumpiness, I’d given up chocolate, alcohol and
processed food for January so I’d had to leave all the Christmas
chocolates, alcohol and pudding to everyone else. And then just to
rub salt into the running, grumpy, wound, there in my path, shining
like a beacon of sugary temptation was a Quality Street chocolate.
Lying on the pavement, perfect in its shiny pink wrapper, tempting
me.
I’d
like to point out that I’m not in the habit of picking up food from
the ground. Especially not sweets of unknown source and vintage. But
it was a STRAWBERRY CREME. The best of all Quality Street chocolates.
Plus it was the 5th
of January and I’d had no chocolate or sweets for 5 whole days.
Swearing at the person who had laid it in my path, I jumped over it –
while drooling - and resisted the urge to stop and shove it in my
mouth, wrapper and all.
Before
I had left the house, I’d filled my running pack ready for a long
run. I didn’t want to have any excuse or reasons to cut the run
short and go home. I only had a few weeks left until my 50 mile run
and I needed to be as ready as I could be – barring the usual
obstacles of dogs, toilet trips and rubber ducks – so I had tried
to be ready for any eventuality this morning.
The
main 3 were in the back pack: Loo roll. Snacks. Money. While I didn’t
want an al fresco poo, the loo roll was there should the need to jump
in the hedge arise. I’d packed some things to eat so there was no
excuse to stop for food at a pub ... and stop ... and stop. And I had
money for coffee –which would double as a fare for a taxi home
should my legs give up. I also had a banana sticking out of the side
pocket like a sideways smile.
I
wasn’t feeling the running love today and my legs felt heavy and
dull, but I just took it slowly. Today wasn’t about speed or pace
but about getting some miles in, some time on my feet. I had snacks
to occupy me, a water bladder in my backpack and a good audiobook to
distract me should the route get boring. Unfortunately I would be
running mainly on roads and pavements today as recent flooding had
meant that a lot of the trails and paths were underwater and many of
the fields were now sporting impromptu duckponds. And ducks.
Still,
that didn’t mean the views had to be dull. The Brownsover railway
line trail didn’t look too watery so I risked running up it,
jumping the puddles and enjoying the crunch of my feet on the gravel.
I came out underneath the recently excavated viaduct and looked out
across the fields. The sky was dull and grey but there were hours of
daylight yet, ready for the running. Just needed to convince my legs.
I
passed quietly through the village of Newton and down past the St
Thomas Cross and although the road wasn’t blocked, there were
floods up to top of the little stone bridge and fields were under
fast flowing brown water. My legs and brain ganged up and tried to
convince the rest of me that the paths would be flooded, my routes
blocked but I ignored them and carried on. If I could resist the pink
Quality Street laid in my path, mutinous body parts were no problem.
Up
the hill into Clifton-Upon-Dunsmore and past the pretty church and
into the hidden footpaths. Across the fields ... and sprint. I don’t
tend to add in speed sessions going across fields, but there are
shaggy cows with massive horns in these pastures and I worry that one
day they might fancy a runner for lunch. They didn’t. Climbing the
stile and putting a sturdy fence between me and the cows, I had a
gentle trot across the grass and down the hill over the canal bridge.
I’d
expected this. It recently seemed to be an unbreakable law that
applied to every run of mine over 4 miles. A familiar rumble from the
tummy. Sigh. At least I was still within 6 miles of home and knew
where all the pubs were. I lurched into the zombie shuffle at speed
and made it into the pub. Paid for my loo stop with a packet of
peanuts which were slotted neatly in my running pack and got back out
onto the road.
I
was very impressed with my pack. I had been concerned when I’d received it as it looked tiny. (I’d
chosen it online for a Christmas present) but once I started packing
the food and bits and pieces in there was plenty of space and a
multitude of pockets. There was a zip one on the front left which was
great for essentials and the zip stopped me dropping pound coins and
bank cards every time I bent forward to tie my shoe and there was a
pouch on the other side for my phone. So no faffing about when the
phone rang, when I wanted to change audiobooks or for checking
twitter. I could even put hand into back pocket to retrieve snacks.
Easy-access food. Brilliant.
At
just over 9 miles I got to Draycote Water which was my make-or-break
point. To get my distance in today I would need to lap the reservoir
twice – each lap is 5 miles round. Soul destroying? Yes. But it
was also the last challenge. After I’d done this all I needed to do
was run home. But first ... again. The loo. Sigh. At least the pack
had passed the “Can it hang on the back of a loo door” test.
The
reservoir is popular with walkers, runners and cyclists although dogs
are not allowed. It’s like a small yap-less, dog-mess-free haven.
No fear of being tripped by extendable leads or chased by a fuzzy
snappy hound, simply of being mown down by an overenthusiastic speedy
cyclist or overtaken by a speed walker. Or worse - a hiker. Maybe if
I got mown down or eaten by a hiker I could go home and sit in the
warm?
On
multiple laps you start by exchanging nods with the cyclists and
runners, then as the laps pile up you end up practically on hugging
terms. Today I was only doing 2 laps, but in the rain and cold but at
least I was sharing the misery.
Running
in laps meant that I found a downside to my new pack. The front
pocket has holes in the bottom to allow for strap adjustability. I
didn't realise this and lost a cash and several snacks. Trotting
around the reservoir dropping money and food, I must have looked like
an out of order snack machine. However a benefit of doing laps was
spotting the lost items (and therefore discovering the holes) on the
second lap.
I
had a brief moment of optimism as the rain stopped. Then it started
sleeting. I’d been cold for most of the run as I was going so
slowly but now I was cold AND wet AND icy. It was time to replicate
the ultra ‘Feed station’ stops and I stopped for a coffee and a
chocolate crispy cake. Ah that’s the ‘No chocolate for January’
resolution broken ... But I justified the cake to myself by calling
it Running Fuel. Not delicious delicious crispy cake. But I was now
warmer and stopping for a while had given my jacket a chance to dry
out. It was cold and I was still slightly damp and desperately wanted
to call for a lift home. But I wasn’t going to do that in the
ultra. So I couldn’t do it in the training run.
I
plodded on. There was ice at the sides of the path and the water was
grey and stormy. There were waves on the usually calm reservoir and
the ducks were nowhere to be seen. I got my head down and pushed on.
I may be cold. I may be wet. But I have snacks. And I passed a loo
every time I completed a lap. I could DO this. The running, not the
loo stops. I’ve already proved myself there.
Surprisingly
once I’d hit the 20 mile mark everything got a lot easier. This
clicked it in my head into ‘a long run’, any extra miles were a
bonus. And all the loo stops and upset tummy could be used as ‘worse
case scenario’ training. If it happens in the race, I could think
“At least it’s not sleeting” or “At least there isn’t a
cyclist in the hedge with me.”
And
I was now on the home straight. Laps completed, I left Draycote Water
with the light fading and the headlights of the cars lighting up the
roads. Coming into the village of Dunchurch, I once again had to nip
into the pub to use the loo. My stomach was obviously going for the
record number of “Loo Stops During a Long Run.” This wouldn’t
be so bad if all of these stops were for mulled wine or for peanuts
but at least I was getting a nice sit down.
The
daylight disappeared quicker than I'd expected so I changed my route
on the way back. I wanted street lights rather than running in the
dark so ran back through the centre of Rugby. The audiobook was
turned off and running songs were turned on. And I promptly started
run-dancing to good songs. Hmmm ... maybe this long run lark wasn’t
so bad after all. If I could do the Time Warp after running 20+
miles, then surely running 50 while NOT doing the Time Warp would be
a breeze?
I
arrived back in my street, in good spirits and wet clothes to find I
was .75 of a mile short of 30 miles.
Bloody
hell.
I
started the Runners Misery – the laps of the streets surrounding
their house that every runner knows and does to make up the distance
to whole miles. If taking loo roll on long runs is the first runners
law, then “Thou shalt not have less than whole numbers on thy
Garmin” is surely the second.
I
arrived home – the second time to find a hot bath and a cup of
coffee waiting for me. The 3rd
rule of running. “Phone Ahead”.