THE GOOD BUCK

Holy crap, that was tough! Think of a tough thing, then times it by several orders of sadism and you are in the ball park. First off it was goddamn freezing. Apparently the wind chill had it at –3C. I thought it was colder. The wind was howling a gale on the hill tops, the telephone wires were bowed horizontally instead of vertically. Literally. I’ve never been able to wear even a really thin running baseball cap on a run. After a mile I’m always too damn hot. This run I was wearing a cycling thinsulate bob-hat for all but the few miles we were below the snowline. My hands felt like I’d been been snowball fighting; the pain of getting cold then the misery of returning circulation, and repeat. Then there was the course which perversely managed to remain deeply muddy. I lost my footing and fell over twice, and turned my ankle once. Luckily, after the initial pain, I was able to continue running. I was worried as it happened. Finally, there was that killer hill at 21-23 miles. So, so bad. Your legs are shot, foot sore, willpower flagging then you are faced with that.   So, all in all, quite a fun marathon.   I was hoping for 4 hour time, but came in at about 4.15 Given all of the above I was OK with that. The main thing by then was just finishing, and I managed a good, strong finish.   I missed Kung Fu this afternoon though. By the time I’d got home and had a shower I should have been going out the door to my class. I had to eat before I did anything else, so the Wing Chun had to wait. Then I had an hour’s kip. That’s how much it took out of me. Lightweight.   …(Monday) Here’s a picture. It’s when we were below the snowline and I’d taken off my hat. I’ve just zoomed in and was surprised to see I was sweating. I was that bloody cold I didn’t think I’d got a sweat on the whole race. There was another set of pictures as we were running through the snow over the top of the hill but I had a right gawpy expression on. Probably trying to get my breath back after the ascent and concentrating on not falling over or dying of hypothermia.   The stat’s are up on the site. I finished 34th out of 212 entrants, 150 finishers. I don’t know how many of the missing 62 didn’t start (too sensible to get out of bed in that weather) or were outside of the 8 hours cut off, or gave up/ got injured. My time was 4.14:49, about what I thought.  The best time was 3.22:34, which shows how tough it was, the first place at last year’s Chester marathon was a 2.28:46, so roughly an hour slower. Which makes my time a lot less shameful. They said on the website to […]

That’s it. My blog for this week. Worked, did big run. Note to self; must try harder!   Last weekend I did bugger all. I was so knackered (and lazy) that I just loafed around and then it was Monday again. Bah. A few days ago I started feeling chesty. It felt hard work to breathe and I felt a bit washed out. I took some paracetamol and was OK, but it kept coming back. That put me in a bit of a panic as it’s the Bolton Hill Marathon next weekend. I’ve had one race cancelled and didn’t go to another recently. I don’t want to miss this one. Anyway, today I dropped some more paracetamol and set off to Bolton.  The guy said the lap we did on the taster run was nearly 8 miles long so I thought I’d do three laps. I start off a different way as I couldn’t find the proper way last time. Mine is slightly shorter but so much bloody steeper. Here it is if you want a nosey:  http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=5836818 Anyway, the ascent is 38 minutes of pure uphill slog. It’s hellish tough. Then their is an up and down route back to the beginning. I did one lap and I was done-in but OK. I was trialling a new thing; as they’ve stopped selling my energy gels I’ve bought an energy powder (no, not *that* energy powder) which you put in your drink.  I grabbed a bottle at the end of my first lap and it did the trick, carried on with new legs. By the end of the second lap, 2 hours 20 in, I was really struggling. Not physically so much as mentally. The thought of that ascent, as it was getting dark, and I was footsore, etc, etc. I was really having to fight the voices in my head that were saying I’d done enough and that I should quit now. Luckily I had the terrifying prospect of the marathon next week and the knowledge I’ve done hardly any training to motivate me. I manned-up, grabbed another bottle and my torch and carried on. The third lap, mostly in the dark, was a bit tough. Still, I did it. Three and a half hours of pain.  Gmaps pedometer say it was 21.7 miles. I don’t know for sure as that is tracing the route on a map, when you run with your ‘phone connected to satnav you get every inch of travel. My battery is giving me grief on my ‘phone. I had it on satnav the last ten minutes of my drive to the run (it was fully charged when I set off) it was down to 77% when I got there. I turned off the satnav (hence not knowing the distance for sure) to save my battery. I went for my run just using it as an mp3 player. It still died completely a few minutes before the end of my run. I suppose there are […]

…destroyer of owls.  I forgot to mention, a week or so ago I was tootling along, minding my own business, when one of those flat faced owls swooped across the road, noticed me trundling towards him (grammatical ‘him’, couldn’t guess the sex) and instead of carrying on out of my way braked in mid air and started dithering about. I whacked straight into the poor bastard. I was gutted. Not as much as said owl I’ll wager, but pissed right off none the less. Poor little sausage. That’s a pigeon (don’t care, stupid birds) a suspected bat (bit miffed, I like bats – if it was one) and a lovely fluffy white owl.  According to Chris Packham that’s one of the reasons why they are planting all those trees alongside motorways; so the owl’s hunting glide will be above the level of the traffic.  Eyes like a hawk, ears like a bat, brains like a penis.   In other work related news, that is about all I am doing. I rode in for three days last week. This means I set off at 1400, work until 0300, ride home, strip wash, have a brew and get in bed for 0430. On a good day sleep till 1230 (eight hours of interrupted daytime sleep), get up get a shower, make my dinner and butties and set out to work. On Thursday and Friday I had to get up at 1130 (Kung Fu and big shop respectively) so seven hours shitty daytime kip. But both events made me too late for the bike so at least I got home a bit quicker in the car. All I’m doing is literally work and sleep. From Monday at 1400 until Saturday noon. I see Wendy for half an hour on a Monday morning (when I run her in to work) and about an hour or so (as I’m doing other stuff) on Wednesday, then it’s Saturday afternoon and Sunday. Bag. Of. Shit. Today I got to bed at 0500 and was woken by a neighbour’s yappy dog less than five hours later. Then the neighbour’s grandkids. Not only loud but high pitched. I got another hour or so (dragged a mattress into the hall and shut all the doors) but I’ve been half dead all day. I’ve bitten the bullet and applied for another job! Go me! That one with Hermes I wanted before I got this one. Their website says they are after 12 drivers. Watch this space.   I finally got to fill the car up again on Friday. Real world figures make it 49.56 miles to the gallon. There was some experimenting with acceleration in those figures so 50 mpg is not too shabby.   That fiasco with the bank has ended up with us being spanked fiercely. They cancelled the 2k overdraft down to a 1k without notice then charged us for 9 counts of ‘unauthorised overdraft’. £161. Ker-Ching!  Bastards! I’ve just paid the tax man his blood money for […]

It’s been another eventful week at work to which I will refer in a minute, but as a consequence I didn’t get to bed until 0330 today and didn’t get up until 1305 hours. By the time I’d had a shower, eaten some toast, let it settle, faffed about, then driven to Bolton it was 1620. I was going to do three laps of the 8 mile sampler run we did a few weeks ago. Obviously I immediately got lost when I started running. Luckily the summit of the ascent is that huge great mast on top of Winter Hill, so you know for miles around in which direction you should be heading. And the carpark is next to a 265ft chimney, so I was pretty confident I could find my way back as well, which is a bonus. The first ascent was pretty bad. Over marshy fields, looping around roads, trying to avoid the rivers running down the tracks. Once I’d made it to the top I thought it would be easier to run down the way I should have come up, then back up again so I’d know the proper route. That didn’t work out right either, but I found a more direct way. Massively steep, but a straight line at least. When I went to do lap 2 it was already pretty dark. I grabbed my torch and soldiered on. Stupid idea. Running over rutted, rocky, muddy, washed away tracks in the pitch black. There were still patches of snow on either side of the path, so it must have been fair chilly still. Going up, slogging, wasn’t so bad. I was really getting worried coming down. I ended up running down the streams as the mud had been washed away there and it was firm underfoot. That was bracing. I was really getting concerned in case I had a mishap. I was soaked in sweat (and river water) if I’d have bust an ankle it could have got serious quite quickly in the cold and wind. Anyway, I did it. Only managed the two laps (16.38 miles) as there was no way I was going back up again in the dark. And it was getting on. And I was cold. And, let’s face it, I was quite knackered. This is what it looked like as a graph: Ow.   Work!  What a bloody joke! They want me to do that Gateshead run, back to Crewe, then back to Irlam. It takes 5 hours and a few minutes driving time to get there. That means, if you have a clear run back you can make up the extra few minutes due to no traffic hold ups and make it within the legal maximum of 10 driving hours. Twice a week. The other three shifts (maximum 9 hours driving) you don’t stand a hope. Now, just to add to my enjoyment, they’ve closed a massive section of the A1/ (M). This detours you through some one horse, single […]

On Monday I turned up at Crewe to the joyous news that I am now on the Gateshead run. This means I have to drive for 50 minutes from Irlam to Crewe, swap trailers then drive to Gateshead (next door to Newcastle upon Tyne.) Right up in the (possibly cannibalistic) North East. Which means I have to drive back (past Irlam,) then around the M60 (Manchester circular motorway) and over the highest motorway in England. In rush hour. Another brilliant bit of planning. They then want me to return to Crewe, trailer swap, then back to Irlam. Not. Even. Nearly. It takes 5 hours of driving time to go from Irlam to Gateshead (via Crewe). By law I have to take a break after 4½ hours driving time, so there’s another 45 minutes on my time. And I’m only allowed two 4½ hour stints a day. But this can be extended by an hour twice a week. So, with the quieter traffic on the very late return journey I can just scrape in the full trip, twice a week. The other three days it’s straight back to Irlam and they can whistle for it. So, that’s the hours. Piss poor. Then there’s the driving over the Pennines in the snow. Focusing.  Trying to overtake the want-to-live-forever crew by pulling into the middle lane, where there was still compacted snow and ice, was a hell of an experience. As soon as you touch the go pedal the cab starts snaking about, pivoting under the trailer pin. Bloody tense times. The other driver said that truck was “skittish.” The same night as I was doing that a van driver got killed along the same stretch. This means the hours are all wrong, the run starts at the wrong place (if one of the Crewe drivers brought the trailer to Irlam I would be travelling in the right direction and could manage to get back to Crewe/ Irlam every night.) The motorways cop for the bad weather, and when I got to Gateshead they said “back yourself into the warehouse, up to the bay and tip (unload) yourself.’” The good just keeps on coming. The end result is that I’m starting at 1500hrs, and not getting finished until 0400hrs, by the time I’ve nipped to th’Asda and had a brew I’m not getting to bed until 0530 or so on the long nights. Just work and bed.   Then, just to enamour me further of my new run, on Thursday I got to Crewe, dropped my trailer and hitched up to the loaded one. I did my walk around checks and the trailer was bollocksed. Hissing like a bastard from around the wheels. I reckon one of the big air chambers (that hold the compressed air for the suspension and brakes) had popped. I defected it. They then asked me to do some shunting so they could tip it and load another trailer. I moved a trailer off the bay, put the knackered […]