A month on from the disaster of the very un-picnicky Picnic marathon, things have picked up a little.
Last Sunday I completed the Fairlands Valley Challenge, 26.2 miles of Hertfordshire countryside, and that makes it the fifth marathon, and I’m still alive! Just two to go now, and in the interim I’ve got a nice couple of months break to recuperate my tired old legs and aching back. It should also give me time to lose my particularly sexy tan line around my running vest, leaving broad white patches running over my shoulders joining in a nice semi-circle around my chest and back. Hot!
Laura pounding the pavements and on got a pb
However before we get to the beautiful and exceedingly wet Fairlands, an additional running challenge got thrown into the pot for the British 10k. My wife and a few members of her family and friends (Katie, Laura, Thom, Kayles and myself were the famous five, with added support from ‘greatest photographer in the world’, who is already mentioned too many times in this blog) had very kindly agreed to run this lovely little London run in aid to my cause, and try and coax some extra cash from people towards the Lymphoma Association. A ruse that seemed to work with extremely good success judging from the donations that have since come in, so thank you very much to both runners and donors.
Normally the thought of a 10k wouldn’t particularly cause me much concern, but what I had unfortunately been
Me and the missus by Westminster - wave your hands like you just don't care
remiss in checking before signing up for it was that I was due to attend an Oasis gig the night before with my brother and a whole load of friends, which could usually be relied upon for producing a four-five day hangover in the very least. However I managed to restrain myself from the sauce for this one particular evening to save everyone the sight of my guts from either end the next day, unfortunately it meant the whole Oasis experience wasn’t quite the same, but still! So we got up ridiculously early for a Sunday morning and our merry band of runners made our way to Picadilly for the starting line, at which point I got a lovely little surprise in that Katie and the other runners were all sporting rather fetching t-shirts with my name and challenge flashed on their backs! I knew I had truly made fame and riches upon seeing my name blazened across the backs of several people. After this rather humbling and proud encounter we strode purposefully to the starting area, only to find ourselves in a rather lengthy queue of runners.
Thom & Kayles crossing Westminster bridge
Indeed there were about 27,000 fellow joggers out for this particular morning and so it was no wonder that there was a bit of a back-log trying to squeeze over the tiny bridge that the organisers had arranged in order to get people running straight away. As many runners will know this sort of delay to a start can be particularly problematic on the bladder muscles and so there were numerous people jumping over hedges for a quick penny in the Queen’s royal back garden of Green Park. Never being one to understand the great British patience with queuing we did our best to forge ahead through the crowds and get away a bit quicker. This also gave us the benefit of advertising the t-shirts to a wider range of folks, and also spotting a large number of fellow Lymphoma runners – you cannot miss those vests at all!
40 minutes after the first runner had set off we finally managed to get underway and headed off at a clip of a rate back
My name is...
towards St James’ Palace and past the hordes still queuing who we had so nimbly squeezed past just a minute ago. Thomas and I had already promised to bury our long-standing racing competition and run with our respective partners, whilst Laura hopped off in search of a personal best. Even though we were finally running, it still felt a little like we were queuing as Katie and I ducked and dived through the sheer mass of people. Indeed at several points as I looked to pace Katie and keep her on track for a personal best I some how managed to lose her in the sheer weight of people that were around. We got to half way round and found to our disappointment that the drinks station had run out of water and were only offering Gatorade, so I gratefully took a swig in order to keep hydrated as I pushed Katie to up the tempo and push on. Thankfully as we headed back towards Westminster we spotted some fellow Lymphoma runners who made us temporarily forget the pain and then got some top quality tunes in the like of the Darkness and Coldplay to help us dance over the bridge and down towards Victoria before heading for the finish line. Katie and I crossed the finishing line together in a new PB time for her of 56 mins, Laura swept home with a convincing and similarly a new PB of 51 (although still annoyed that she didn’t beat the 50) and Kayles similarly set a new personal best of 1hr and 5mins to complete her first competitive 10k. So it just leaves me to thank all four of my fellow runners on that day for a fantastic effort (I only wish the waiters at Pizza Express had been as speedy as us!) and of course also for making the effort to go and get me some extra cash from your friends, colleagues and family. It is as always hugely appreciated.
Weary runners head back down to the tube for the promise of beers and pizza
So that was the week before Fairlands Valley, glorious sunshine bared down upon us all and the 10k was a fun-fuelled short little run which resulted in pizza and beer. I was hoping for more of the same! I became more nervous though as the week passed that I didn’t know the route, no map or instructions had been posted on the site and there was a lack of general banter and information on the website about it all. What if this was another Picnic? Patiently waiting for me to be sucked in only to prove another major stumbling block in my marathon challenge as the first hill hovered into the horizon. Ultimately though I had no choice, I knew there were now precious few options open to me now, and very few marathons that I’d be able to book and run in my schedule in order to keep within the 7 month period. Thankfully a further incentive fell through my door that week which was a letter from the Lymphoma Association informing me that I had been nominated for one of the Beacon of Hope Awards, an award ceremony organised by the Association for individuals who have done particular good service in the past year. At first I was a bit shocked by this letter and didn’t really know how to react, I felt that after seeing some of the stories first hand last year I didn’t deserve to be put in the same category as the people I had bravely seen on stage the previous year. In fact I went into a bit of a rant at my wife, presuming that she was the culprit for the nomination, she claimed innocence and lo and behold later in the week I found I’d actually been nominated a second time for a different category (this time by my wife). By then I’d had time to reflect on it all, and I feel such tremendous pride and honour to even be considered by someone to be in such a thing, and while the competition to be shortlisted is bound to be fairly keen I will certainly take great pride in just being thought of as nominated, so thank you very much whoever the other mystery nominator is!
And so it was with this extra bit of grit in my belly that I got up and ready for another marathon in Stevenage. My dad dropped me
Bright and breezy for the Fairlands Valley Challenge
off by the scout hut whereupon I was issued my instructions and a map of the circuit. Instantly my face dropped as I saw four sheets of what looked like fairly detailed instructions of where to go and what to look out for, almost entirely filled with nifty anacronyms like SLOT (straight line of trail). As I was ridiculously early I decided to take a bit of a walk out from the start and see how easy it would be to decipher the instructions – not that easy I discovered. A new tactic was needed of locating a local (who was also running the marathon, as there were also 18 and 12 mile runs as well) and trying to keep up with them for 26 miles. After time for several quick pees before the start and as about 30 of us huddled together on a suspiciously overcast day in a strange looking car park in Stevenage I reflected that the circumstances could not have been more different to the previous week, and I was wondering what I’d let myself in for. However courage was given to me by the starter in his words that a runner in previous years had managed to get lost after only 200 metres, my extensive research before the run guaranteed that I wouldn’t be making any records on that front!
Where's that famous Fairlands bread pudding?
And so we were off, I was intrigued to see how the group would break up as we were obviously clustered between different abilities but also looking to do different lengths and so it worked out that the group quite quickly broke out into clusters of runners and not much inbetween. As I hadn’t managed to locate my local yet I was forced to consult the directions and pick up the useful skill of being able to run and read at the same time. My memories of Duke of Edinburgh at school came flooding back and my orienteering skills didn’t let me down and I made it to the first check point at 4 mies for a nice little breather and a drink of squash. One of the other things on offer was Bread Pudding - I think to put the Fairlands Valley Challenge on the map, their quirky fact about themselves is offering bread pudding to runners, much like the Picnic’s quirky fact is being ridiculously difficult – I wasn’t sure what bread pudding was to be honest, but it looked a bit like a pork pie, and as I wasn’t in the mood for savoury snacks I gave it a miss and dug into the jelly beans instead. And on we went. Unfortunately not long after this my lack of country lingo knowledge meant my path was soon unstuck. I’d been running under some canopied trees only to emerge onto a luscious
What a field day
English green with a game of cricket in front of me, but conspicuously no runners, where had they gone? I checked the instructions and the told me to go right onto a Bye-road. Not having the foggiest what a bye-road was I presumed it meant like a regular road so jogged with just a little baring to the right to the road ahead and had the nasty feeling I’d gone wrong. When I turned around I found that I’d become like the messiah in the life of Brian and had a rag-tag bunch of followers looking on my to deliver them to the right route. We went back consulted the directions again, talked to a guy on a tractor, had a team meeting before plumping for a route, and thankfully choosing the right one. Luckily that was to be the only major navigational challenge which added to our time, despite a couple of other near-slips nothing got quite as bad as that period of very unsure where we were going.
Surely it's cheating to be allowed four legs in this race, luckily I beat the dog in the end... just.
I got to the 8 mile check points to be greeted by my wife and parents and had a good old chin wag with them before finding that our band of brothers that had nearly got so very lost had formed a tight knit group that were determined to make it to the end together. Up to 20 miles the run seemed to go like a breeze, the direction reading proved a distraction to the constant wear and tear and mind-numbingness of running, the gang of three proved to be a nice pace to keep you motivated and there was some lovely views afforded over the Hertfordshire countryside – I was really getting into this multi-terrain trail running. Even the weather seemed to be perfect for us, overcast but with the occasional burst of sunshine and a nice temperature, that is of course
Running (definitely not singing) in the rain
until I pointed that fact out. I don’t know what prompted me to do such a stupid thing – it was just after the 20 mile marker – we were almost home! I harmlessly said “even the weather’s been perfect”, cue angry God of running to deliver one of the strongest and wettest showers I’ve ever been in, it was literally like running in a power-shower cubicle. What made it worse was that at this particular part of the run we had to run on a path by a road into the oncoming traffic and so of course got a double splashing from some particularly over-zealous drivers no doubt thinking it’s fun to pick on weirdos running in bright yellow vests.
Still we made it through and after a second tumultuous shower right at the finish line I made it back to the warmth of the scout hut and picked up my medal in an official time of 4 hours and 20 minutes, with my stop-watch saying 4 hours 19 minutes, I’ll take the minute off due to the lack of clarity in the directions as to what a bye-road is. I finished 54th from a field of 260-something, not too shabby.
"Why did I make that comment about the weather?"
Thankfully I was to be greeted by warm hugs from my family along with Thom and Kayles who had come along for extra support and sported the sexy line in t-shirts of the previous week (if anyone wants to buy one, I’m thinking of setting up an online store, maybe mugs, posters, whatever you want – just email me your requests!). But the best part was digging into a burger from the barbie that the organisers had put on.
So that’s it, five down two to go. Nottingham and New Forest await. In the meantime I have a nice break ahead involving some
Having a dirty burger and a medal never felt so good
training, and indeed I have a fair few C-word blogs to get up here too, so I promise to start working on those soon. There will also be a sweepstake on offer for the final marathon with a cash prize – more details on that to follow. For now though, as always thanks to everyone that’s continuing to donate, it means a hellofalot. For those of you still wavering on the brink of donating – go on, do it, it’ll make you feel better! And of course finally a massive thank you to the British 10k four (+broken toe boy) and all the supporters and fellow runners at the Fairlands Valley Challenge.
See you soon, xxx
Filed under: 10k, Fairlands Valley Challenge Tagged: | 10k, Beacons of Hope, Donation, Fairlands Valley Challenge, Lymphoma Association, Wembley
