Rocking the context appropriate look. Snow plogging microadventures r us.

Digested read: went plogging on the Sheffield Half-Marathon route.  It snowed.  It was still fun.

Undigested read: I can hardly run a bath at the moment, let alone a half marathon.  This is a shame, because we are fully into not so much the run up (see what I did there?  Hilarious) as into the actual tapering period for the 2019 Sheffield Half.  This time last year I was well into my distance runs and used the Sheffield Half as a training run for the London Marathon. That seems like a life time ago. The past is another country I did things differently there.  Now, for various reasons, I’ve had my running goals for this year well and truly scuppered.  It is a source of much squirm-inducing regret that when my lovely running club asks us each month to volunteer our achievements and post them on Facebook for each return period that I find myself racking my brains trying to think of something to say.  Something – anything?  Nope, just an echoing void up there at present.  Nothing to report.  I blagged it the last two months, by explaining February was pretty much taken up with my merchandise testing commitments (Brooks Juno Bra thank you for asking) and then March brought with it my media commitments, culminating with my companion animal finding herself the poster giraffe for the Sheffield Half.  She was thrilled!  I got glory by association.  I might not make the start of the half this year, but hopefully the 5-10% of the population who are apparently particularly susceptible to hypnosis and suggestion will come to believe I was there just because they have seen this image circulating about the right time. I like to believe so.

Anyway, irrespective of whether or not I’m running, this is my blog, my rules, I can plog if I want to, however tenuous the theme in terms of its relationship to running.  Today’s theme is litter picking on the Sheffield Half Marathon loop, so that’s almost exactly the same as going for a run yes?

The background is that a group of us did this half marathon litter pick last year, after a last minute ‘who else is up for it’ Facebook post put out by a local running shop.  A fair few of us were, and rocked up, and it was fun. We got to dress up like Nemo and everything, though the amount of litter on the route was dispiriting.  It came about because those of us who’d been using the route for long run recces couldn’t help but notice the litter that had accumulated along the way, and it seemed a poor advert for our beloved Sheffield.  Instead of waiting around for some vague ‘other’ to take the initiative ‘somebody should do something’ Front Runner took the initiative, and put out the call. Seems that hit a nerve, and people came indeed.  Litter picking in general and plogging in particular is increasingly a thing – check out Runners Against Rubbish – which is good because it has to be done and bad because it shouldn’t be needed. Plogging runs featured at the Big Running Weekend a couple of weeks back too.  Anyway, pleased to report, they did the same again this year, suggested a group litter pick along the Sheffield Half-marathon route, and there was an even bigger turn out, this year than last.  yay!  Perhaps this will become an annual tradition.  Hope so.

So you see, whilst I might not be up to much running, I can still have running related fun times scrabbling about in mud and heave-hoing unsavoury discarded bits of rubbish out of polluted ditches with my running buddies.  We are hard core we Sheffielders, and we know how to make our own entertainment!  Plus, plogging in a ditch is pretty light weight compared to fell running which to the untrained eye might seem to stretch the definition of ‘fun times’ yet looks like great larks compared to the Barkley marathon.

You do know about the Barkley Marathons yes?  In case not – you might have just blocked the very thought as a subconscious protective reflex – this is a 100 mile plus suffer fest.  It has five laps, each lap of 20-plus miles in distance and includes about 12,000ft of brutally-steep, obstacle-laden, muddy mountain ascent through thick woodland.  That’s like climbing Everest twice, apparently,  which is another thing on my list of activities I have zero desire to undertake.  Just to be completely clear, I don’t even want to climb Everest once.  In conclusion, I think it’s fair to say that the Barkley Marathons stretches the definition of ‘fun’ a tad too far for even type two fun* recognition. Just saying.  Well done Nicky Spinks for giving it a go all the same.  Shame it meant you missed the first Trunce of the year but understandable in the circumstances.  Epic.  No-one came close to finishing the Barkley Marathons this year by the way.  I’m not surprised.  Nicky looks hard core yes, but she doesn’t look like she’s particularly having any real=time fun now does she?  It’s cool she’s wearing a dark peak fell runners bobble hat though.  Respect.  She’s still beyond awesome.

 

 

 

Anyway, where was I?  Oh yes, having running related fun in the great outdoors.  So it was that last night I scooped up a friend and together we chugged up to the Norfolk Arms rendezvous for the collective litter picking endeavour.  Tooled up with our heavy duty gloves, we sat in the car, admiring the moody sky and dramatic clouds.  About five minutes ahead of our rendezvous time, heavy drops started to land on the windscreen.  ‘I hope it’s not going to rain’ remarked my litter picking buddy.  We laughed nervously.  It would only be a couple of hours.  We exited our vehicle and joined the gathering by the van, joining the queue for bin bags, struggling into our junior sized high-vis and delightedly welcoming our parkrunning buddy, Regal Smiley who’d rocked up to join the fun=fest and frolics in the name of keeping our run routes litter free. Yay!

As we greeted one another, the rain stopped.  That sounds good doesn’t it, except it wasn’t because there was no longer precipitation, oooooooooooooooooh no.  It was because it transmogrified into fat flakes of snow. Proper snow.  Full on white out, snow snow. It settled on our hats, and snowed with an intensity and density that is usually reserved for the closing climactic sequence of cheesy American films set against the backdrop of Christmas holidays. You know, where every problem is overcome, every misunderstanding cleared, and loving couples or families rush out red cheeked, starry-eyed and bobble hatted through a forest of Christmas trees already laden with snow, or along a city street with shop windows a-bling with Christmas lights as fresh snow falls and the credits roll.  Like that. Exactly like that, only colder and wetter and with less joyful cavorting on our part.  We did laugh though.  A lot.  And to be fair, if the weather was going to be dramatic, I’d sooner take the apocalyptic drama of unexpected decent snow over the soul-sapping water torture of horizontal rain.  Also, definitely better than having a helicopter induced storm hurl roadside barriers at you mid-marathon in China.  It happened.  It really did… quite relieved I didn’t bother entering that one now, especially after learning I wouldn’t get away with taking along the bike for part of the route after all.

Besides, we were here now, committed.

We took our bags, our gloves, out litter picker and our resolve and off we went, a trio of awesomeness, to take on Sheephill Road.  Time for a quick selfie first though…  Just for clarification purposes, that’s the start of the snow you can see in the flurry of white flakes, not a severe dandruff episode by a fellow litter picker just out of shot.

We bagsied the upper end of Sheephill Road from the Norfolk arms downed.  I thought we might have to fight for it – I feel a tad territorial for this section because it’s the same bit I did last year, which is ridiculous, but true.  As it happened, we three got it all to ourselves, and off we went.  We were an awesome team, covering both sides of the road like police forensic investigators seeking out clues in a finger tip search.  Litter picking is disturbingly surprisingly addictive.  No fag end is safe, no bottle too remote to be hunted down and caught bang to rights and bagged – probably to end up in land fill which is depressing, but preferable to choking wildlife at least.

There aren’t any whales in Sheffield, so I don’t think we were saving them particularly from consuming plastic on this occasion but then again, who knows where discarded plastic can end up.  No really, I spent some time volunteering at a wildlife centre in Zimbabwe and one day found myself removing plastic wrap from cucumbers flown in from the UK – probably grown in a poly tunnel, that were past their sell-by date and so were discarded from the shop and were now being used as animal food. How many countries had that plastic wrap visited in its single use lifetime? What is that about?  Crazy.  That’s why 44 kg of plastic was found in a dead whale only last month.  No fun to be had in that story, none at all.  Don’t need to be Hercule Poirot to work out contributory factors for cause of death for that one.  Or even James Herriot, or whatever the marine biology veterinary equivalent for that might be… This is plastic that emerged from a whale gut, I couldn’t be more astonished if it was a picture of Jonah himself bursting forth.

It was surprisingly companionable yomping along plogging and picking our way through the undergrowth with varying degrees of concentration. We evolved a system whereby Regal Smiley/ bicentennial woman who was in possession of the grabber (well, she does command natural authority, plus she was the one who had the foresight to bring it with her) responded to a sort of directional pointing system whereby we other two, lacking her reach, would get the bits we could and then point out to her the more elusive finds.  She would do well in the opal mines of Coober Pedy as once she was convinced of the presence of something, in this case litter, nothing would deter her from ferreting it out. Together, we were invincible.  That dear reader, is what team work is all about.

‘This image is courtesy of John Park, who you can follow on instagram at  https://www.instagram.com/parky.au/  if you fancy some virtual travel browsing through some stunning pictures of the great land down under and beyond!’

We didn’t find any opals, but we did find some vintage crisp packets, they don’t have the same market value though, well, not as far as I can tell anyway.  I didn’t research it all that conscientiously, I’ll be kicking myself when a vintage salt’n’shake crisp pack suddenly appears on eBay, with the faded lettering being described as ‘adding authenticity and character’ … I can feel my blood boiling at the very thought!

The weather did crazy things.  At times there were blizzard conditions, at times bright sunshine broke through, and there was the most extraordinary rainbow that seemed to arch across the whole city, I wished I’d got my camera with me, but then again it probably wouldn’t quite have done it justice, plus, I was able to delegate photo duties to Regal Smiley who did a fair enough job in the circumstances!

Here is the snow:

Well, some of it, and here is the rainbow. Also just some of it…

We were merry in our labours.  Also, encouragingly, the litter situation was way better than last year, and although there was still plenty, we made speedy progress.  No especially epic finds – well, apart from the almost buried plastic Christmas Tree and associated baubles, really people?  There was inevitably, lots of plastic, haylage bags, fast food polystyrene wrappers, huge amounts of cigarette ends, discarded bottles, one solitary gel pack wrapper. and debris from miscellaneous road accidents.   Had we but the time and inclination – oh yes and skill too – we could quite possibly have built our own vehicle with the bits of body work accrued along the way.  Some duct tape would have helped maybe, but then you can do anything with duct tape and imagination!  After all, if it can be used to fix a plane after a bear attack, I’m sure it could assemble some discarded car panels without too much difficulty.

 

After an hour or so, there was the pitter patter of tiny feet behind us.  Breathless, and inappropriately dressed for the inclement weather was a trio of youths.  I must be getting exceedingly old, because when they introduced themselves, still wet and shivering as ‘students’ my immediate thought was they were a detail from a local school sent to join the community initiative, but no dear reader, they were actual university students, doing a journalism course and in search of a local story.  Mind you, I do find increasingly I have become that person who notices that my GP and other officials look alarmingly youthful.  The logical conclusion of this I am actually old, not just old before my time.  I don’t know quite how to process that thought, so now I’ve shared it, I’ll ignore it and move one… Anyway, where was I, oh yes, clearly, we were the most newsworthy thing going on at the time, and so we were within their grasp. Also, I secretly suspect they’d got wind of my recently acquired poster girl status so perhaps were hoping for some sort of celebrity coup to boot, though they were far too professional to let on to that insider knowledge, didn’t want to seem all giddy in my presence I expect… So, what they wanted to do was a little piece on the community litter pick for one of their assignments. Fair enough, sounded entertaining.  ‘We are like the wombles!  You know “underground, overground, wombling free“‘ I half-said half (badly) sung, being met with looks of confused incomprehension, oh gawd, I really am old, surely they haven’t been forgotten – I had their LP at one point, ‘wombling free’ it’s a tragedy if that cultural heritage has now been lost, we do indeed need the Wombles more than ever!

We continued our litter pick, whilst they found a suitable lay-by to set up their gear.  To the casual observer they would have looked like spectacularly well equipped doggers.

They wanted some litter picking shots, featuring the grabber in action and in close up.  This required quite a lot of practise, and hilariously (well I thought so) the initial actual litter that was being used for the shot just didn’t cut it as camera eye candy.  Fortunately, one of the trio had brought along her own, more photogenic litter just in case.  This was in the form of a bottle of lucozade sport (I like to think, as the ‘sport’ reference seems especially apt, but I might have imagined the whole thing just because I wished it so), which she downed in one, so that she could jettison the bottle on the verge where it could be picked up and popped in a black bin bag on endless repeat until caught from all possible angles and the perfect shot, like the discarded bottle, was safely in the bag.  (Honestly, I’m on fire tonight!)

Then we stood in a slightly self-conscious line and the director said he was going to ask us each a question to camera as a sort of vox pox segment (well, what with my work as a supporting artist elsewhere, I have all the media lingo down to a tee). Now, this is where we approach the comedy climax of the evening…  but to fully appreciate this, you need context.

The thing is Regal Smiley has many talents.  Epic runner, parkrun run director blah de blah, but one of her most public-spirited duties is linked to her being the power behind the photographic throne occupied by Mr Carman.  Yes, yes, he takes squillions of pictures week in, week out, selflessly giving his time for the running community of Sheffield, but it is Regal Smiley who acts as upholder of human dignity and public decency, acting as censor to any shot that might unduly humiliate or embarrass the subject of the photo.  Obviously due humiliation is a different thing altogether, and comedic value can outweigh an unflattering shot, but even so, she has much respected form in saving us runners from the brutal reality of seeing in high-definition our true running likenesses if that truth might mean we never left the house again.  She is the guardian of our individual and collective self-esteem, for this we should all be grateful.  Therefore, it was not unreasonable, that before consenting to our vox pox section she politely enquired

‘Do we look OK?‘. I know what she meant, save us from the spinach caught in our teeth or the inside out jacket or the river of snot that I’ve failed to notice because my face is too numb from the stinging hail. It was self-evident to all.

‘You look great!’ he said confidently.   The reassurance he gave us was to be short lived.

It wasn’t self-evident to all.  I know this, because he added with a bit too much enthusiasm in his voice ‘being bedraggled and cold and windswept and filthy is exactly the appropriate look for this piece when you’ve all been out litter picking in the snow!’  Oh how we laughed!  I’m paraphrasing only slightly, we rocked our context specific look, it is fortuitous that these clips will never see the public light of day.  Well, unless one or more of us was to go missing on the way home and they had to play that snippet of us on Look North as the last sighting of us for identification purposes, oh the shame.  And that nearly happened to be fair, but more of this later.

We did our slightly stilted commentary on the community cohesion of litter picking, and love of the peaks and running, and how we met through parkrun and all of that. Then, in a moment of clarity me and Regal Smiley realised this could be our running related achievement for April when reporting back to our Smiley record keeper, so more photos of us all together and separately in all possible permutations were taken. The sun came out, rather spoiling our hardcore claims.  I think it’s fair to say the weather was changeable.

 

 

 

We left them doing there final ‘to camera’ summary and continued our meander back along the verges.  It started snowing again, we were on a mission.

It’s amazing how you see missed bits of litter when you view the landscape through a different angle.   We’d already done this section on the outward march.  Regal Smiley was emboldened to scamper over walls and criss-cross wobbly stones to reach tantalizingly placed litter the other side of walls.   There was definitely more than one point when I thought we might lose her over a crumbling dry stone wall. We discussed this possibility.  I was thinking at first we’d get away with pretending we’d never seen her, there weren’t many cars about and nobody was taking much interest in us… as long as we other two stuck to our story we’d be fine – then we remembered the cursed vox pox sequence, and if those keen journalism students got wind of her disappearance they’d be like the blooming Scooby Doo team, endlessly screening their now highly marketable footage as they tried for a ‘true crime’ documentary full length feature on ‘what really happened’. We’d never have got away with it.  So all in all, it was very fortunate, that we were able to haul her back roadside, and make it back safely!  No search team required…. this time.

Pleasingly, just as we returned to the corner of Lady Cannings plantation entrance, where we’d piled up all our bags, the Front Runner white van appeared to gather up our rubbish offerings.  It was a leaky, sodden and unsavoury mess of stuff, I wouldn’t have wanted it in the back of my car.  Above and beyond I’d say.  You can get Sheffield City Council to pick up bags from organised litter picks if you let them know in advance, but there was a different plan at work here.

And that was that, we said goodbye and went our separate ways.

I feel however I need to add this postscript.  As me and my tail walking buddy – did I mention that already?…

were derobing and clambering back into my car, we got chatting to a guy in the vehicle next to us.  He hadn’t been litter picking with us but he does solitary litter picks around his road all the time.  I mentioned to him that there is the Sheffield Litter Pickers Facebook group if he wants help.  He brooded on this point for a bit and then said words to the effect of he quite liked the cathartic effect of doing it alone and raging at the awfulness of mankind with every bottle plucked from a hedge or broken glass from the gutter he weirdly liked finding justification for his misanthropic view of the world.  I rather respect that.  It made me laugh.

And so dear reader, it was but two sodden hours on an April evening, but it was crammed with hilarity and micro-adventures a-plenty. Sometimes, it is worth just stepping outside the front door and seeing what unfolds.  Just be wary of cameras unless you are dressed in a context appropriate way. Oh and also, I feel a  need to share that really, in our own way, we three, and indeed all the other litter pickers out there last night, were tackling the same elements as the Barkley marathoners, because they too started their quest in sunshine, only to be caught out by wintry conditions and snow.  I may not quite be in Nicky Spinks’ league just yet, but I am somewhere on the continuum of weather she has experienced in her running challenges, and that’s a start.  Also, other litter pickers took independent initiative to play their part in an afternoon pick as they couldn’t make the evening one, ploggers are everywhere it seems, how splendid is that!  See them rock their context appropriate hi-vis too.

Heart warming isn’t it?  And we could all do with a bit of good news in these dark times I’m sure.

You’re welcome.

*type two fun – things that are fun only when viewed retrospectively, from a very safe distance.

On a quest to catch pearls of running wisdom … mingling with the stars and the onset of maranoia.

Digested read: time is running out now.  Mistakes are being made. Went to Nicky Spinks talk. Sigh, she is such a legend, that helped me believe (temporarily) that of course I can run a marathon.  Had a sports massage.  Ouch. That made me lose some training and with it confidence in myself that I can do this thing. Then I read a book and tapped into support from friends and got some motivational running bling, and well, who knows?  I’m beginning to think the actual marathon will be the easy bit, if I make it to the start, it’s all these mind games and faffing about in advance that is the real challenge.  Oh well, I am where I am, and only time will tell how this will  unfold. Did you know there is an alternative definition for maranoia by the way?  See if you can work it out for yourself!

I’ve contracted maranoia now.  I’m becoming so risk averse it’s a miracle I can even venture out of the house.  My London marathon virtual running buddies (there’s a group of us spread around the UK who met at a London running weekend and now share a Facebook group) seem to be similarly suffering.  Whatever the scope of our London marathon training programmes to date, as the countdown to London seems to be speeding up, so too our individual and collective anxiety seems to be increasing.

As I understand it, with about 4 or 5 weeks to go, you probably can’t do all that much to increase fitness in the time remaining, but there’s plenty of time to jeopardise everything through injury, illness or an over or under enthusiastic taper.  Of course I don’t feel I’ve done enough training.  Constantly rubbish weather has really not helped, I’m so over snow now, can’t believe there was ever a time when I enjoyed the beauteous novelty of it all.  The point is, I can’t change what’s happened up until this point, so instead I’m becoming totally obsessed with controlling those things I can. With this in mind, I’ve reluctantly pulled out of a Smiley mass trip to take part in a running event in the Lakes the week before London.  A mass cohort of us went to the lakes over the summer, and that was epic taking on both Helvellyn and a route round Ullswater.  At the time of booking I was thinking it might be good to hang out with Smilies whilst tapering, and a 10k is modest enough to keep the legs moving.  Now though, I’m fearful of falling on unfamiliar ground, but more so, the thought of two sleepless nights in a dorm, and not being able to control what I eat and drink and I think it’s just not worth it.   This London Marathon is a once in a lifetime opportunity, being a Smiley is a permanent state.  Not just for Christmas, but for life indeed.  It’s like joining a (hopefully) benign cult.  Once touched by its embrace, you can never leave.  I was a bit sad about pulling out of the Lakes, I may have got something in my eye whilst typing the email cancellation note out – but having seen some photos of the terrain it does look gorgeous but treacherous.  Those are ankle breaking stones I’d say.  Normally love a good trail run, but not with this timing.  Also, part of the route is known as The coffin trail.  Not a moniker that instils a runner with confidence about taking on the path with vigour…  Having made the decision, I actually feel quite relieved, so that means it must be the right thing for me anyway.  Looks lovely though doesn’t it?  Fortunately there is always next year…

 

I’m also seeking advice from all over the place.   I don’t know if this is actually helpful.  The problem is a lot of advice is contradictory or relates to faster, fitter runners with different goals.  There is also a huge temptation to just keep asking loads of different people what they think I should do until I land on the person who tells me what I want to hear.  Maybe that’s what we all seek ultimately, some external validation of our thoughts and experiences.  Fragile creatures aren’t we?

Anyway, in the spirit of advice seeking, and also finding things to do which might help my running without actually having to put myself to the trouble or unpleasantness of actually running, I got wind of the chance to go to a talk by the living legend that is Nicky Spinks. She of the double Bob Graham challenge.  Hosted by Kim Baxter physiotherapy it had the promising title of ‘how to stay injury free and run further with Nicky Spinks‘  The blah de blah said:

Nicky Spinks is a British long distance runner, specialising in fell running, who set women’s records for the major fell running challenges the Ramsay Round, the Paddy Buckley Round and the Bob Graham Round. She is the holder of the overall record for the double Bob Graham Round.

She returns to talk for the third time due to popular demand. This time her talks takes on a new theme and focus – she will be giving you her best tips and advice on how to run longer distances and train for ultra marathons whilst staying injury free.

A great informative informal evening for those who like to run, thinking of upping their distance or for those who just want to be inspired!

Nicky left us truly inspired last time, and we cant wait to see and listen to her again.

Though frankly she could talk about anything at all, just to be present within her orbit would surely be enough to gain endurance by association?  She exudes such straightforward positivity that I reckon it would just radiate outwards from her and so anyone in her vicinity would benefit.  Unless you were wearing lead underwear that prevented the rays from reaching you I suppose.  Lead underwear is more a diving thing than a running thing though, so I reckoned it’s be ok.

I stomped up to the venue which is up Ecclesall Road.  I’d forgotten just how long that road is.  I mean it’s only about a two-mile walk from where I live, but what a trudge.  It occurred to me that I’m going to have to run up this route – and back down again – in a couple of weeks time for the Sheffield half.  I loved the Sheffield Half marathon when I ran it two years ago, but for the life of me I was struggling to remember why that was as I walked upwards and onwards.  Hope I feel a bit livelier on the day.

A fellow smiley had prompted me to go, and got a ticket for me.  She rang me as I was making my way up, and said I just needed to mention her name to gain entry.  I joked that I was rather hoping that mentioning her name and mine too would lead to a plush red carpet being rolled out and a glass of chilled champagne being pressed into my hand.  Oh how we laughed.

So I arrived at the place up at Parkhead shops (entry round the back) and gave my name and… guess what!  No really, guess.

That’s right! We were indeed given a glass of prosecco on arrival.  This was great news.  It’s the first drink I’ve had in months too, I’ve been completely abstemious during training.  I wasn’t about to turn that down though, and it went straight to my head, I’ve got a low tolerance to alcohol anyway, but the benefit of that is just a single prosecco  bubble up my nose and my body thinks it’s an instant party.  The downside of this is that I crash and burn quite quickly, but then again, no hangovers.  It was great arriving, an intimate sort of space, nicely set out and welcoming, and the place was packed out with people I knew.  People from woodrun, people from Smilies, people from parkrun. This is most excellent.  I saw some I’d hardly seen all winter the weather has been so grim, so it was good to catch up on people’s running goals.  A fair few are taking on the Sheffield half.

Eventually, we were called to order and Nicky was given the stage. I’ve seen her Double Bob Graham film ‘Run Forever’ before, and heard her speak before as well, but I enjoyed this event the most. It was very informal, and Nicky (yes, I feel we are on first name terms now) comes across as very genuine and ‘grounded’.  Her physical achievements and mental fortitude are astonishing, but even so, she admitted to at times being intimidated by other people’s strava records, and harbouring self-doubt.

There are too many points to summarise, but a few things stood out for me/  For example,  how relatively low her mileage was given the ultra challenges she takes on. Hence, train smarter not longer seems a wise mantra.  On an easy week she might just be doing 24 miles, up to say 45-50 on a hard week (though of course she is working from a base line of phenomenal endurance and experience already banked).  Some things sounded like common sense when she said them out loud, even though they went against some accepted wisdom.  I’m thinking of her observation that you should train to what your body needs and responds to and not just blindly do things because a training plan says you should even though you are exhausted and your body is crying out for a break.  She also tends not to ever do three hard weeks in a row (lots of training plans advocate three tough weeks, then pull back for the fourth).  She showed us some of her plans, and indeed it was true, only ever two or three at a push hard training weeks consecutively.

She told us that ultra marathon running is more an eating contest than a running one.  She recommended learning to eat at weird times, sharing how a breakthrough moment in her training programme was waking up in the middle of the night and feeling peckish. Result, her body was getting used to shoveling down food in the small hours. Staying awake all night and dealing with sleep deprivation goes with the territory of being a farmer, she seemed to be able to cope with that with at least resignation if not enthusiasm.  The main thing though that I got from her talk was a sense that you don’t know your limits unless you try things, and you shouldn’t assume things are impossible from the outset.

It astonishes me really, that you can come away thinking you can do anything after a talk from Nicky Spinks because she is clearly super human.  However, there was something in her demeanour that made the likes of me believe that there is certainly no harm in giving things a try.  When it comes to covering distance, you might surprise yourself with your endurance potential.  You don’t have to train insane distances, you don’t have to slavishly follow programmes that don’t work for you, but you do have to have an inner quiet tenacity and for endurance at least, a team to support you.

Inevitably, there was a fleeting moment of disillusion.  I’ve always been particularly impressed with her ability to down chips and curry sauce mid the double Bob Graham round.  Alas, today she revealed the devastating news that she is apparently ‘known’ for being sick on her runs!  Turns out it’s not just an eating competition, eating is only the first part of the dual challenge, you have to keep it down afterwards for long enough to gain some nutritional benefit, the initial ingestion is just the start.  She went on to explain that initially this used to bother her, now she’s learnt to just have a little gander at what’s come back, and from that revise her nutrition planning according to what may now need replenishing!  I’m never sick, well, hardly ever, consequently I don’t think I could be that laid back about the whole thing, but good to know that there are strategies to be deployed should the situation arise.

The talk went quickly, and afterwards, a few of  us shamelessly asked for a photo.  In my defence, I thought we were all supposed to be doing The Cabaret Pose, I hadn’t understood the whole thing was a set up.  Oh well.  At least I have a celebrity picture.  I still have a gap where I want one with Jessica Ennis, (oh the photo that got away) but what with this of Nicky Spinks and the one of us Smilies with Paul Sinton-Hewitt I’m doing OK.

We left bubbling over with enthusiasm about the talk and feeling inspired.  Somebody, I can’t remember who, said ‘she’s the sort of person you just want to go up to and say please let me be your friend‘. I know what they meant.  However, I’d be happy just to follow her around gazing on her from afar, and being allowed the honour of passing her her sick bag for review when the occasion required it.

Despite being inspired to do loads of ultra-runs in future, clearly it is tremendously important to pace myself properly, so I availed myself of a lift home.  Tomorrow is another day after all..

One consequence of going to this talk, was that everyone who attended got a voucher towards either a physio session or a sports massage.  I’ve been wondering about getting a sports massage pre the marathon, so took the opportunity to sign up for one the following Monday.  I did check first that I’d still be able to run the next day.

Well, I duly went for the massage.  There were good points to this, the high point being when I asked the physio if she could feel anything untoward in my legs.  I don’t think there is anything, though my calves are really tight, I’m not aware of anything sinister.  Well dear reader she just said – unprompted – ‘no they’re fine, they just feel like runner’s legs‘.  Get in!  Get me and my ‘runner’s legs’ not a label I ever expected one of my body parts to be prefixed with.  This was very exciting indeed.   It also turned out that she’d done the London marathon herself, so loads of me downloading everything in her brain to learn from her experience.  Fortunately, she was massively positive about the whole thing, and about my capacity to complete it – albeit based only on what I said about my preparation, and really who knows until they do it.

Then the actual massage.  The thing is, I’ve not really had one before, not a full one hour massage.  I’m sure it was ultimately beneficial, but oh my it was like doing a legs workout.  I expected to feel it a bit at the time, and to be a bit spacey in the evening afterwards. What I hadn’t expected, was to feel completely wiped out for the next two days.  I was supposed to be doing a long run, but I just didn’t feel my legs had it in them, and reasoned it would be foolish to head out if I was in trouble just walking around the house.  It took a few days for them to settle.  So frustrating.  I can’t regret the massage entirely, because it was reassuring that there are no niggles there, and probably the deep tissue massage did make them loosen up a bit by the end of the week.  However, I am most definitely not taking the chance of having another one between now and London.  I hope it wasn’t a mistake, it has cost me one long run, but then again it’s done now.  I suppose if I was used to having them regularly then it might be different.  Oh well, not being able to tolerate them will save me a fortune in my future ultra running career.

I tried to keep my running spirits up by reading inspirational literature, and by sharing needy messages to my London marathon superstars Facebook friends.  Interestingly, a lot of us seem to be struggling this week with cumulative fatigue and drop in confidence.  The end is so near yet so far I suppose.   The thing is, I look at all they’ve done and its ‘easy’ for me to see that for them, of course they are exhausted, they’ve trained really hard, they’ll be fine after they’ve tapered.  I on the other hand, well, obviously my fatigue is entirely different.  In my case it’s my body saying best not bother, I’m way out of my depth and this is not ‘fatigue’ it is my body actually disintegrating in protest in a last-ditch attempt to thwart my intention to get to the start of London Marathon.  It will do whatever it takes to prevent me joining the line up.  It’ll probably find a way to hide my photo id if I make it as far as the expo, no photo ID no race number.  The pre-registration email instructions are adamant on this point.  I need to watch out…

Happily I got this book in the post the same day I had the sports massage.

It was recommended to me as something of an emotional read.  I don’t know what I was expecting quite.  I mean the accounts are impressive, but honestly, I didn’t find them all that relatable. I was explaining this to a fellow Smiley ‘the thing is, I just can’t directly identify with the woman recounting how she felt after winning London‘,  ‘well of course you can’t!  she quipped back ‘you haven’t run it and won it yet so you can’t know!’  Good point well made.  Joking apart though, I was hoping for less heroic recovery stories, and more, well middle-aged women, who’d come to running late who were just going to give it their best shot to find out if they could get round and then they found out they could and they did.  The stories were amazing, how these people overcame adversity of the most extreme situations imaginable (surviving genocide, losing your hands and feet to frost bite and/or terrorist attacks) to get to London, but it catapulted the tales into the ‘extraordinary’ category,  we are not sharing the experiences of mere mortals in this  compendium of collective London marathon experiences.  Hang on – here’s some of the blah de blah:

Running the Smoke tells the story of what it’s like to take part in the London Marathon in the most enlightening and enriching way possible: from the perspectives of twenty-six different runners who have been there and done it. Michael McEwan delves to the heart of these runners’ stories, discovering their reasons for running and revealing the drive that has seen them cross the finishing line. From global superstars Sir Steve Redgrave and Michael Lynagh to legends in the running world such as Liz McColgan and Dick Beardlsey, from fun-runners like Lloyd Scott who ran the 2002 race in a deep-sea diving suit, to heroes of a different kind in multiple amputee Jamie Andrew, 7/7 terrorist attack survivor Jill Tyrrell, or Sadie Phillips who has twice defeated cervical cancer, Running the Smoke lifts the lid on an array astonishing stories that are often heart-breaking, always heart-warming – and endlessly inspirational.

See what I mean?  Just to be clear, running in a diving suit doesn’t sound like a ‘fun run’ to me either, and Lloyd Scott who did this, was actually a professional footballer at one point, so not really starting off with a C25K (Couch to five k) fitness baseline.

Impressive yes, but not an account that helps me believe I could do that too.  I’m going to put it out there and say that I’m confident I most definitely couldn’t.  Some challenges cannot be achieved by positive thinking alone.  Fact.  Consequently, right now I want to hear stories from the more seemingly mundane end of the spectrum of human experience.  Of the apparently ordinary people, who stepped out of their comfort zone and found they could take on London too.  People who might actually make me believe I have the capacity within me to get round also.  I think it’s still an achievement to get round even if you didn’t have to triumph over adversity to get to the start line.  Plus, actually, I believe that most people have their own remarkable stories that might not be quite so immediately headline grabbing, but are truly inspirational nevertheless.  Everyone I know who runs, runs for a reason.  The book also has a strong focus on elite athletes, again, their achievements are impressive but way out of my league in terms of providing personal inspiration.

The book also has a disappointingly high proportion of accounts from  men, it’s not that I’m not interested in their stories, but it wasn’t very inclusive, and I need to hear women’s voices right now. It made me wonder what the gender split is for London.  I asked Google and haven’t tried that hard to research it, but it seems there is most definitely a majority of men who take part, around two thirds of marathon runners are male according to this Guardian report from 2015.  I think it’s shifting though, interestingly, there is a suggestion that women do better with endurance events – though that may be they are less likely to take them on unless they’ve trained adequately in advance.   I think only five or so of the 26 runners stories were from women, not very inclusive.  Having said that, it did make me want to get there. It also made me want to redress this imbalance.  I wonder if I could somehow gather together all the women I know who have run marathons, and get their stories.  Most people I know who run, run for a reason, some are indeed amazing athletes, but others have achieved great things through sheer bloody minded tenacity.  Juggling running goals alongside a myriad of other practical demands (work, family, physical and mental health) and physical as well as mental challenges.  Those are the stories I want to hear and share. We should celebrate the achievements of those within our own running communities, there is just as much tears, tenacity, triumph and talent closer to home as further afield.

I also note increasingly how runners, well, the women I know anyway, support one another hugely, we are back to external validation perhaps?  I have found I really need people around who tell me this is achievable for me.  I don’t care if they are crossing their fingers behind their backs as they say so, I need to hear this.   Thank you everyone, from the bottom of my heart who has not laughed in my face when I have outed myself as attempting to tackle this, and more thanks a-plenty to those who’ve nurtured me along the way.   Running a marathon isn’t as much of a solo endeavour as you might think.  Maybe on the course, but getting to the start, that’s a different thing altogether.  For me, training for this marathon has been contradictory.  In some ways it is by its very nature isolating, especially if like me you can’t find a runner of a similar pace to train with, and ultimately, only I can get out the door and do the training runs myself.  On the other hand, I’ve been astonished by the generous support, advice and encouragement others have freely offered up.  It is an amazing thing this marathon voyage, it seems so many of the clichés are true.  It is indeed a journey.  It will be an emotional roller coaster, and yes, I will probably cry all the way round. That’s the annoying thing about clichés though, they become clichés for a reason, because they do reference common truths.  Oh well.  I’m happy to embrace any number of clichés or motivational phrases if that’s what is needed to get me round!

Speaking of which, a gift came in the post from one of my London marathon superstar buddies, and it gave me a fantastic and timely lift.  I won’t be running London alone at all, I’ll have my running buddy with me every step of the way!

Not long now.  I need to channel all the positivity I can.  Guess I have to train my mind to be positive as much as train my body to keep moving forward.  In the meantime, I leave you with some alternative definitions of maranoia.  Maranoa is also a region of south-west Queensland in Australia. That could get confusing, they don’t seem to have a running club there.  Coincidence?  I think we all know otherwise.

 

You’re welcome.

Counting down now, counting down.

Eek.

 

Best laid plans… long run thwarted but feeling the running lurve, besides, tomorrow is another day and we runners, well we can do anything!

Digested read: fairly mundane running reflections, didn’t manage to get out for my run today, that’s all really. Still some running related ponderings though, supplements, running fatigue, Big Running Weekend, subjective stuff, maybe just best to skip this post and instead just scroll down to the end to see the best parkrun fancy dress photo ever.  Personally I think historical re-enactment themes have hitherto been under represented at parkruns across the UK.  Time for change people.  Time for change!

Today was supposed to be my long run, 18 miles, and I was all set up and ready – if not exactly raring – to go.  Water bottles filled, route mapped (to be fair, that wasn’t too complicated, as I was planning on just heading out to the Monsal trail again); naked bars stowed, porridge consumed, and then my entire day just got hijacked.  My free day to head out and run in a teasing gap between a stretch of seemingly endless torrential rain and the threat of snow to come later in the week disappeared over the horizon.  It was really frustrating.  In  case you think I was just looking for an excuse (and to be fair, sometimes I am) this was not the case today.  I had a major leak last night, the fourth since I’ve moved in to my new home.  The apocalyptic weather was without mercy.

However, despite my initial despair, virtual if not actual sun was shining on me, and the good news is that not only was I able to get in touch with the builder, but his representative on earth appeared, tooled up to fix it.  Trust me, you don’t stand up a builder ever.  FACT.  Unfortunately, every silver lining has its cloud, and the presence of said builder involved a certain amount of being in and hanging around.  Then more people were doing landscaping work out the back, which was more accurately an homage to hysterical historical re-enactment of life in the trenches.  Never seen so much mud and water, and not in a good way. Bogs when you want the fun of scampering through them on the hills is one thing, but trench-foot inducing crumbling pits swallowing up any mortal who dared to brave them is another thing altogether.  Also, my car got blocked in by skips and vans and although I could have got them moved, it would have interrupted multiple building projects as by coincidence neighbours up and down the street are also having building work done. It seems the recent snow and epic amounts of rain have tested the housing structures nearby to breaking point, remedial work all round.

Eventually, I was freed up to go out, but by that time it was mid afternoon, and for me (don’t laugh superior runners) I felt it was realistically too late for me to fit in a really long run.  I considered doing a shorter one, maybe the half marathon route, but then I wasn’t sure if I’d have enough left in the engine to do my proper planned one tomorrow.  I feel so clueless, maybe it would have been good to do another longish run, but then again, the whole point of my running goals for this week is to try to go slow and steady but consistently, and I’d like to start the run feeling OK not broken.  Tomorrow looks like it’s the only other weather window where I can rearrange things so I can get out for a decent length of time.  I’ll have to, or I’ll end up doing my long run in the dark, rain or snow, none of these options appeal to me.

Much as it goes against the grain, I’m trying to put a positive spin on this interruption. I have been feeling absolutely dreadful for nearly a week – ever since my miserable long run down in London.  Just exhausted, weak, sore throat, no energy blah de blah.   Today for the first time I’m feeling a bit brighter. I genuinely don’t know if this is because I have in fact been ill with a low-level virus and now I’m better, if it just takes me a long time to recover from my long runs or if it is a placebo effect because I have dear reader, caved in and started taking an iron supplement.  Whatever the reason, I’m  hugely relieved and actively looking forward to heading out on a run without having to fight back the impulse to cry through sheer fatigue.  One positive I have hung on to though, even when feeling really, really rough, is that at no stage have I felt like pulling out of London.  I most definitely want to get there, it isn’t a case of not being committed, more the mind and heart are willing but the body is weak.  I wouldn’t mind having been so exhausted if I looked like this when fatigued, but unfortunately I don’t.  Not to worry, maybe I will after running the London Marathon, because that is the inference in the Daily Mirror article it is used to illustrate.  Now that would be a win…

Oh, re the supplement, I’ve only been taking it a couple of days, so I don’t believe it can possibly have made a difference already, but I suppose if I have been really depleted that might be so.  For your information – I know how you are probably hanging on my every word for top tips on nutrition as I’m such a running role model in these parts – I’ve gone for Floradix.  It was eye-wateringly expensive, I actually wonder if the shock at the price tag basically reboots your metabolic rate, and any temporary boost in perceived energy levels has nothing to do with the intrinsic contents of the bottle at all, but rather is just your body implementing fright and flight mode.  Frankly, I don’t care how it works, whatever it takes.

I’ve gone for a liquid iron supplement because at last weekend’s Accelerate Big Running Weekend I learnt, amongst other things, that liquid iron is easier to absorb and less likely to cause digestive issues. Also, that it’s apparently very common for long distance runners (yes, like me) or people in general who are upping their running regimes, to become depleted in iron, and as I’m a vegetarian who does far too much meal planning by gazing in the fridge to see what’s lurking at the back and not enough actual working out a balanced food diary a week ahead, I know I more than likely am not following an ideal diet.  Maybe now I’m doing significantly increased mileage by my reference terms I just can’t get away with it any more.  It will be genuinely interesting to see if I do notice a difference over the coming weeks.

Would you like to know about the Big Running Weekend?  If you don’t already know about it, you’ll be really annoyed because you’re too late now, you’ve missed it.  Oh well, hopefully it will come round again same time next year.   Or maybe it will be more like Brigadoon, and only appear once  Basically, this was a sort of weekend festival of running, organised by a local to Sheffield independent running shop Accelerate, and held at the rather fine venue of the Woodland Centre in Ecclesall Woods.  For but a tenner, you got a fetching wrist band, just like at a proper festival, which allowed access all areas for the duration of the event.  There were loads of things to dip in and out of: guided runs; running shoes to try on; talks and films; a whole weekend trail school (there was an extra charge for that) led runs; Q&A sessions.   Really though, and this is a complement not a criticism, the absolutely best bit was being able to hang out with running buddies and talk about running related things with like-minded people who not only don’t back away when you try to talk to them about blisters, trainer grip or running technique but actively engage with you and offer useful tips!  Amazing.  Plus there were other helpful things like pizza (vegan options available); coffee and cake.

More specifically, there were guided runs deliberately at night, they weren’t just running in the dark because they couldn’t find their way home.  There were woodrun drills, which are actually useful and not only a means of manipulating others for the personal amusement of the running coaches (though clearly that is a pleasing additional benefit) and much inter-disciplinary networking fuelled by caffeine and cake.  Hurrah!  Great photos too, actually – hang on, I’ll go nick a few, so you can also enjoy them. Thanks nice people at Accelerate in general and Ben Lumley photography in particular.  Some of these photos are really crying out for a caption competition, but that’s not in my remit.  Create your own dear reader, create your own.

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As previously reference, my energy levels have been non-existent of late, so I wasn’t up for any of the runs, I barely dragged my weary carcass around Bakewell parkrun on Saturday morning, but I did get along to some of the talks, and you know what they were great!  Not just engaging, but inspirational too.

I went on the Saturday night, pizza first, then into the woodlands meeting room which was roasty toasty warm and all invitingly lit up with fairy lights and a room full of both familiar faces from the Sheffield running community (yes there is) and friends you haven’t made yet.  All good.

As is often the case, I’d rolled up with little idea of who the speakers were going to be, I enjoy the element of surprise, the pleasure of a lucky dip.  Anyway, I have to admit I didn’t know either of the speakers before, but now I am going to stalk them both.  First up was Damian Hall:

Damian Hall
7pm, Saturday 10th March 2018, Sycamore Suite (Main Building).

Fresh from his win at the multi day Ice-Ultra  and author of the book, ‘A Year on the Run’, Damian takes centre stage.

Damo is an outdoor journalist and ultra runner.  Like Ben, he too has represented Great Britain and last finished 1st Vet at the infamous Ultra Tour du Mont Blanc. He has also placed on the Spine Race and holds the odd long distance running record.
As to his talk, Damian describes it as, “A midlife-crisis, a toilet and the power sob : what running long distances has taught me about life, the universe and everything”.

He looks like this:

What to say about his talk? I don’t know it’s hard to summarise because it wasn’t so much the anecdotes about the races impressive as they were; the self-deprecating humour at the photos of him running in with ecstatic happy children at the climax of the UTMB where he sheepishly pointed out his wife pushing a buggy behind and the time it took for his children to revert to calling him poo-head; nor the amazing photos of the roads less travelled he’d run across, nor even the extraordinary lengths – literally – he’d run.  I honestly think it was the positivity, the idea you won’t know you limits if you never try to find them.

and, best of all these three key take-away points that spoke as if directly to me:

• Ultra running is as much an eating competition as a running one, you need to fuel loads. (Tick).
• No-one can run that far, so you are better of training by going on a hiking holiday and carrying a pack and doing lots of walking (result, I don’t even have to carry a pack because my own supplies of adipose layers provide my own bespoke weight belt at all times).  (Tick).
• ‘We all know that we could cover 100 miles if we really had to, if our children’s lives depend upon it say, or the house is burning down’ (I guess that would depend how much you like your children or house, but I take the general point) so of course a marathon should be doable for pretty much anyone, if your mind is focused enough on doing it. He used the analogy of how people can often put on a sprint finish when they see the finish line even if one hundred metres before they thought them self to be well and truly spent.  It should be doable, if you want to.  (Tick).
• You don’t necessarily need to do crazy mileage in training, what you do need is hours on your feet to build endurance without risking injury – walking is your friend (tick).  For ultra runs you can’t possibly run a 100 mile plus ‘long run’ each week, so cannier regimes are needed.  Excellent news.

The second speaker was Geoff Cox.  He looks like this:

What a legend!  In his sixtieth year, he set himself the challenge of running three named Lake District fell running rounds, Bob Graham, Joss Naylor lakeland challenge and the Gerry Charnley Round, which I’d not heard of before but links three youth hostels so is doable over three days with comfy night stops for the less adventurous explorers out there.  Don’t tell anyone, but I might be a little bit in love with Geoff, he seemed to have just decided to do it and so he did. That is remarkable enough – though it wasn’t from a base of nothing, he’d done football and things before.  However, the real tour de force was how he described what being out on the fells meant to him. After he’d completed this challenge, he tried to process all his thoughts by writing it down.  However, he found he just couldn’t, not in prose, so he just wrote it as a poem.  A love poem to the land in a way, and this got picked up and made into a film, and it’s just joyful.  It reminded me of all that draws me to the hills.  However badly I run, when my little legs have taken me up through the heather and on to the peaks, and I can finally look across the landscape opening up before me and feel the wind rush through me and everything falls into perspective.  The earth solid beneath me, the elements wild around me, yep, this is worth it, you don’t have to run well to reap these rewards, just put one foot in front of another and look about you.  He gave only a brief introduction and then let his film, Trailpike, speak for itself, and it did.  The Trailpike film is here, it’s amazing, go on, have a look, it’s only 11 minutes of your life.  I don’t know what was more inspiring, the physical challenge, or the way he suddenly, and unexpectedly embraced poetry as a vehicle to communicate what the running challenges meant to him. What’s more, in case you are worried, it isn’t cringy poetry of the ‘oh bless’ type, it’s genuinely using language in a way that I think transports you to that parallel world of the long and lonely trails.  Epic.  Oh and did I mention that he found out recently he’d been running a while with a busted carotid artery, the man is a medical marvel!  Wonder if he remembered to mention that on his disclaimer prior to taking part in the woodrun drills earlier…

I say, ‘lonely’ trails, but for the record, all the speakers had teams around them, the camaraderie of the fells and mountains being a recurring theme. As Damo said (well, everyone else seems to call him that, why shouldn’t I feign a personal connection now we’ve been in the same room together for over 60 minutes) ‘there are people I know from running that would do anything for me and me for them, we might not know the names of each others partners or children, but if asked to be on a stormy mountain side in the snow at 2 in the morning with coffee and cake for each other, we’d be there in a heartbeat‘.  I paraphrase, but I think we all get the gist.  He also spoke of hallucinations brought about by sleep deprivation, but they seemed largely benign.. flying lanterns anyone?

Then, even though you might have thought the room was so jam-packed with good will, mutual supportive appreciation and all round huggyness that it could stand no more, extra feel good fell factor was generated by showing the Nicky Spinks film of her extraordinary Double Bob Graham triumph.  I thought I’d seen this account of how on 15 May 2016, Spinks completed a double Bob Graham Round in 45 hours 30 minutes, beating the previous record set by Roger Baumeister in 1979 by more than an hour.  He was from Sheffield by the way.  Turns out I hadn’t.  It’s such a feel good film.  Again, there is the triumph over adversity theme as it interweaves the story of her cancer diagnosis and subsequent treatment and recovery.  It is most certainly a tale of individual tenacity, but again the outpouring of support from her crew, family and friends and indeed Joss Naylor himself.

Nicky Spinks is extraordinary.  I’ve sort of met her, in that I gave her my £1.50 for the Truncerace where she was collecting entry money the DAY AFTER her double Bob Graham success.  I was too star struck to say anything other than ‘thank you’, as she told me my number, but I still felt the aura of her presence.  The main thing from her film though, was an observation she made early on.  She’d been half thinking of maybe doing the double Bob Graham, and not really ‘come out’ and told anyone of her idea.  She seemed to be saying that absolutely critical to her success was that when she did, she told Joss Naylor I think, and he basically said ‘of course you must!  You can absolutely do this!‘  and so she did!

After the film when we doing some mingling and chatting – much as after any run, only on this occasion without having run anywhere first, we pondered this point in particular.  My running buddies and I agreed that a large part of us achieving our running goals, admittedly more modest ones, but even so – was seeing that when we tested the idea on other better/ more experienced runners they didn’t laugh in our faces, they just said ‘why not?’  We are but fragile creatures, but give us a shove in the right direction, thrust us upwards, and we might yet fly!  I remember mooting the idea of doing the 12.12 to the guys at Frontrunner, and they were so supportive, I was astonished, and you know what, the Dig Deep is my new favourite event now, so there you go.  I don’t know about track running at all, but in terms of the off-road runners hereabouts, there is very much a give it a go attitude and plenty of really talented people around who are generous in sharing their insights and expertise.  Sort of restores your faith in human nature really, and there is a sense of some shared values too, an appreciation of the wonders of the natural world laid out before us, and maybe some basic humility that goes along with the territory for off road runners, who amongst us has not done a face plant in a bog, got lost in heather or cried with gratitude when a marshal has freely given of a hug when most needed.  Even the mighty Damo is an advocate of the power cry after all, we are all vulnerable out on them there hills.

So talking of generous sharing of expertise, I went back for more on Sunday afternoon.  I mean, obviously I went to marshal at Graves Junior parkrun first, because there is no greater feel good factory in the whole of Sheffield:

and then it was back to the woods for the women’s Q&A session.  A wide circle and a simple to and fro contemplative, supportive dissemination of running wisdom from some formidable but approachable women athletes, all local.  How fabulous is that.  Answer, pretty fabulous, but it would have been grand to give each of these women an individual platform to share their stories too.  The event brought us a panel comprising:

• Jen Scotney: Jen has recently completed the Spine Challenger coming 3rd lady in a distance of over 100 miles — non stop! This is not even the longest run she is planning this year. Jen, is a vegan runner and happy to answer questions on her running nutrition too.
• Laura Inglis: Accelerate Performance Centre coach. Laura has coached beginners to high performance club athlete’s and through determination and continued learning is making rapid progress as a coach. She is also an ultra runner and last year won the Ladybower 50.
• Margo Duncan: Wood Run leader and family GP who is a very experienced runner. Having turned her attention to triathlon she has since competed for GB within her age group. She also has a wealthy of experience at trail and road racing.
• Debbie Smith: Climber, turned Adventure Racer turned ultra distance mountain biker and then runner. Few will know that Debs has won every UK Adventure Racing title and was consistently in the top 3 for 24Hr mountain biking. In turning her attention to Ultra running she has completed the Ultra Tour du Mont Blanc, taking a top 10 spot in her age category. In Mountain Marathons, such as the OMM she has also been a regular winner or podium finisher.

That’s quite a lot of running expertise in anyone’s estimation!

Again it’s hard to pick highlights because so much got covered in such encouraging terms.  Two of this epic panel are vegan runners, which is encouraging, it rather exposes the tedious lie about not being able to have proper nutrition on a plant-based diet.  I’m only vegetarian (vegan-curious) and have felt under pressure from some quarters to re-evaluate that.  Not negotiable by the way…  The mood was supportive.   The discussion moved through nutrition; cross training; hormones; impact of menstruation on running (not much research, but nobody fancied doing an ultra with a period even if some evidence suggests you might be stronger then – maybe mooncups are the way to go – woman’s hour had a great feature on these a while back by the way); goal setting; ‘fitting it all in’; supplements; fatigue; female running idols (Jasmin Paris came up amongst others, not least for her capacity to run at a high level, throughout her pregnancy)  – anything and everything really.

The panel shared memorable moments, and again, the sense that goals can motivate you, and if you want that goal enough you can make time to prepare for them. Having said that, there was perspective here too, ‘it’s not open heart surgery, you are just putting one foot in front of another so just try it’.  Enjoy it, was a theme.  Anecdotes about hallucinations were quite graphic, but not necessarily unpleasant, almost a boon you might think!  I learned that greater love hath no one for their running partner than offering up their own dry sleeve in lieu of a hanky when all the runner’s clothing and tissues are too saturated to offer service.   I’m not really sold on triathlon though, call me lightweight by all means (that would be a first to be fair) but I don’t want people swimming over me and elbowing me in the face before I have to ride and then run for a very long way!

Favourite moment. Question from an awesome veteran runner who moves amongst us within the smiley pack  ‘I’d like to do some of these challenges, but how do you get a team, what about the logistics, how to make it happen?  Who can support me, how can I learn by supporting others?‘  and this triggered a collective communal outpouring of the running equivalent of ‘I am Spartacus‘ as each person in the room rose as one and volunteered to support any such venture.  The running hive will make it so, you have only to believe and it can happen.  I felt quite emotional.  Together anything is indeed possible, this can happen.  Just name the day and bring it on!

These women all had innate talent for sure, but they also oozed constructive support, it made me believe that whilst not exactly anything is possible, we most certainly won’t know our limits if we don’t try, and really why not try?  With a bit of common sense and commitment we can probably achieve more than we think, especially if we utilise the support and expertise that surrounds us.  I suppose maybe I just needed to be reminded of what I said about myself, some years ago when I started keeping this blog.  I made then, and make now, no claim to be a ‘proper runner’ I hardly run at all, what’s more, if anything my running has got worse since I started, but ultimately, for me running has never been important because I can be good at it, rather it is important because I can learn to enjoy doing it badly.  It has linked me to some extraordinary, awesome and amazing people and taken me to unexpected places and on unexpected adventures, and anything else is frankly a bonus.

So you see, it was all lovely.

The afternoon ended with a warm glow of optimism and appreciation for all things runners and running related.  This weekend was timely for me, I’ve had a rubbish couple of weeks.  The enthusiasm and practical positivity of those around the run HQ brought a bit of perspective to things.  Running is supposed to be fun, challenges are best when self-selected and can help you stretch and grow they offer the chance to succeed not fear of failure.  With regards to this London Marathon malarkey, I don’t know if I can do it, but I do know there is nothing to be lost by giving it my best shot. Yep, training hasn’t gone how I hoped, but this is the first – possibly only – attempt, I’m bound to make mistakes.  The fact I’m making loads merely demonstrates how resourceful and experimental I am.  My goal remains to get around, and that should be completely realistic, if I can get to the start uninjured, I do believe I can get to the end, and whatever happens it’ll be an adventure, what more could I wish for.  I will be one of the lucky ones for even being able to embark on this adventure.  Hurrah!  Everything’s grand.

So cheers Accelerate. I know it took a team of people working really hard to pull this off, but for what it’s worth, i thought it was an informative, enjoyable and inclusive event.  A running tonic on my doorstep. How blessed am I.  🙂

Oh, you want to know what the best parkrun fancy dress photo ever is?  It’s from Ormskirk parkrun, in honour of International Women’s Day, a re-enactment of Emily Wilding Davison’s  protest at the Epsom Derby in 1913.  The verisimilitude is uncanny.

Emily Davison (1872 – 1913) is fatally injured as she tries to stop the King’s horse ‘Amner’ on Derby Day, to draw attention to the Women’s Suffragette movement. (Photo by Arthur Barrett/Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

I find this effort heartening.  The timing of this homage to past protest seems especially apt as university staff have just voted to continue in their own strike action centred around pensions entitlement today.  The power of protest can deliver, but sometimes you do have to fight for what you believe in.

That fight might of course be in your head.  Running is in the mind, believe you can, and you will.

That’s what I’m hoping for anyway.

A lot of hoping.  I might have to do a bit of training too though, just to be on the safe side.

Fingers crossed for a long run triumph tomorrow.  Think of me!  🙂

Over and out.

 

Trouncing The Trunce*

*Please note, the attention grabbing headline was penned for alliterative purposes, strictly speaking I didn’t do all that much in the way of trouncing, but I did have a very nice time thank you for asking.

So today, finally, I took on The Trunce.

Brace yourself, this is a long one, and I’ve not finished editing, so no trolling by grammar police just yet please.  More photos may come…

Now, this is a race series that has been spinning around teasingly just outside of my field of vision for some time now.  I’d not so much heard about it, as seen scary photos of hard-core runners various been taken out at deep water crossings by variously named fresh-water beasts such as croco-ducks / duckbilledcrocodus that are apparently vicious species unique to this particular area of Oxspring where the event takes place.  You will note that as with wildebeest crossing rivers and dodging crocodiles on their annual migration, it seems to be strictly survival of the fittest.  With so many swarming across the water, the majority will indeed make it, but for those who fall?  Well sadly it seems that is just the cycle of life, other runners simply continue on their quest to conquer the hill ahead, and don’t even look back. (Thanks Mossienet Photography and Graham Beardsley for the pics).

All the same, the pictures do make it look like something of an adventure, and my regular reader will know that I do have a terrible fear of missing out, plus I do like a good yomp, obstacle courses – and I am easily excited… soooooo the photos make it look like the event could be quite an intoxicating cocktail of delight to be experienced, and honestly, what’s the worst that can happen? (Rhetorical question, no answers on a postcard please). The problem was that I really struggled to understand quite what the event was.  People have tried to explain the logistics to me (off you go, number for life, crocodiles at the crossing, happens every three weeks) but somehow it all remained a bit opaque.  Now I’ve done it, it does indeed make perfect sense.  I think it’s a bit like trying to explain to someone how to ride a bike, or how the double funnel works at the finish of Bushy parkrun,  these things are just not really meaningful until experienced for yourself, but once you have, all fine and dandy.

There is a website all about The Trunce, but it sort of assumes you understand the basic premise, which I didn’t, so I’m going to have a go at outlining those during this account so prospective first timers don’t have to be deterred by fear of the unknown.  There is also a great Facebook Trunce page with loads of pictures and a scary warning about the rules of The Trunce Club.  I don’t want to get drummed out of this exclusive group now I’ve only just joined, so I’m relying on you dear solitary reader not to let on.  The rules are simple:

But remember the 3 rules of TRUNCE club
1.you dont talk about the trunce club outside of the trunce club
2.You MUST NOT use the STEPPING STONES to cross the river
3.you dont talk about the trunce club outside of the trunce club

Making the decision to go was fairly easy.  It’s a run I’ve wanted to do for a while, but the push to commit came from a mutually self-congratulatory, and somewhat bacchanalian gathering of Fighting Feathers.  We met last Monday night to celebrate our team’s genuine trouncing of the opposition through the Winter Smiletastic challenge.  Can’t be bothered to explain it all again here, essentially it was a device to keep members of the Sheffield Women’s Running club Smiley Paces running through the winter.  You can  just take it as a given that this meant for the first time in my life an accident of birth (the year I was born in) allocated me to a winning sports team.  As part of the Flying Feathers troupe I could join in unfamiliar victory celebrations.  Our blood was up, and a bit giddy with success (and gin) we agreed (some of us anyway) that we would collectively take on The Trunce the following week.  Best laid plans and all that, but this was the original motivating push to commit to a particular date.  16 May 2016 it would be.  Plus, the date looks nice and symmetrical when you write it like this: 16/5/16 – surely an auspicious omen?

So, I had committed.  The next issue for me as a first timer, was how to get to this mysterious fell(ish) race.  After a bit of exploration of the Trunce website.  I learned that the way to go is to head to The Waggon and Horses pub in Oxspring. Their postcode is S36 8YQ, so I basically stuck that in my satnav and hoped for the best.  I did have a slight panic when I set off, because over time I have been twisting the wire on my satnav gizmo where it plugs into the car charge thingy, (accidentally, not on purpose) and it’s looking distinctly precarious, hanging on by a literal thread with exposed silver wire thread glistening away under the dislodged rubber outer insulation.  If there was wiring like that in my flat, I’d move out to be honest.  Still, with off-road running you have to be a bit more of a risk taker don’t you?  I figured on balance I’d get away with living dangerously in that regard and off I went.

Coming (or going) from Sheffield, it’s not all that far (about 13 miles or so), BUT the timing of the event is quite early, and so it took blooming ages to get there.  The start time is 6.45, but if you haven’t been before you need to register so I was aiming for 6.15.  The consequence was I left Sheffield about 5.15 and got immediately snarled up in rush hour traffic.  It might actually have been better to leave a bit later and have a clearer run, but I hate being late, so couldn’t persuade myself to do that.  Maybe there is a rat run that others know, but I went out past Hillsborough Stadium and Grenoside.  I wasn’t too sure where I was heading.  A fellow Flying Feather had helpfully tried to explain it was on the way to her grandparents, but (and please forgive me if I’m sounding ungrateful) that wasn’t the most helpful of direction giving assistance I’ve ever been on the receiving end of.  In fact, as I headed off into the evening sunshine (yes, it was sunny), I remembered I had been out this way before to Oughtibridge to watch the Tour de Yorkshire and to Wortley years ago, to find a riding stables.  Once you escape the worst of the traffic, it’s quite a nice run out, but no question it would be tight getting away from work for many people. It did take an hour to get there.

The route was picturesque though, rolling hills, gamboling lambs that kind of thing.  And, best of all, names that sounded like I was entering an enchanted wonderland: Cheese Bottom and Thurgoland (no really).

You can’t really miss the venue, after open roads, suddenly you can see cars glittering in the sunshine parked up in the official Oxspring car park.   There may even have been a sign, but I don’t know, my satnav was very insistent we’d arrived at my ‘final destination’ so I didn’t really think about it  Is it just me that finds that terminology a bit intimidating?  Maybe I need to go on some sort of assertiveness course so I can stand up to it a bit more and not feel crushed at its passive/aggressive tone if I disregard its commands…  Is that a bit too niche for hypnotherapy do you think?  Oh well, back on task.  Temporarily blinded by bright sunshine I turned into the car park entrance.  This is how you access the ‘sports field adjacent to the pub’ which is where the official event parking is. I’m always a bit dubious about parking on fields in the countryside.  I imagine tractors pulling me out and a Glastonburyesque quagmire, however, I can report that this field was flat, well-drained, and spacious.  There was even a marshal on hand to direct you where to park – great for me, I don’t like too much choice when choosing parking spaces, I get sensory overload and end up driving round confused, no such trial by choice here!

I was early (hooray) so time for a deeply unflattering selfie, and an explore.

The car parking field is indeed directly behind the pub, and also really near the start, so it isn’t at all spread out – reading the website I’d got the impression that it would be more rambling and harder to navigate, but it seems in fact the Trunce is a well oiled machine, very efficient, but with a lightness of touch.  It is like extreme parkrun in that respect I think.  Relaxed, friendly and well organised.  Also, I am delighted to report that there was access to some back loos in the pub, so plenty of provision for my precautionary pee!  Phew, always a relief (literally and metaphorically) to know that angle is covered pre any run!

I shuffled over to the gazebo affair, where there was a queuing and signposting system.  Now I’ve navigated this, it is very simple to fathom, nevertheless I managed to find it a bit confusing.

So, for the simpletons amongst you, (me included) this is what you need to know.  Clutching your £1.50, if you have never been before, first off head to the little table that is set to one side of the gazebo and which in the photo above is obscured by the little queue of people bending over it.  There you will be given a pre-printed bit of paper, on which you are required to write your name, date of birth (I think that’s so they can allocate you to the correct race category not because you get surprise birthday cake on your special day) emergency contact details and running club (if applicable).  I’m not a teacher by profession, but I’m going to take a wild punt and say I reckon this task of form filling is way easier than the average SATS test and not anything to worry about.

There is a space left blank which is for the official to add your for-life race number once allocated.  The registration table is equipped with spare pens, and a box of safety pins too, so well organised.  You then take your slip of paper, and grinning inanely, you join the queue on the left hand side, and hand it to one of the two officials (one of whom on this occasion was a world record holding celebrity but more of this later).

You will be allocated a number as a first timer.  This is very important, because this is to be your number in perpetuity.  You get given a number the first time you go, thereafter, you are on your own.  This number stays with you ’til death, and could become the most enduring relationship of your whole life. This number was then scrawled on a piece of paper with a rapidly running out marker pen, and handed back to me so I could secure it to my running vest.  The convention is that thereafter it is your own responsibility to cobble together your own race number.  The rule is it has to be black on white, but various manifestations were visible on the day. Some had specially printed up T-shirts proclaiming ‘The Trunce’ and their number; others had gone for the ‘I’ll just print it off at work and laminate it on the sly‘ approach (a good one); a few had just taken an old race number and scrawled their Trunce personal identifier on the back – that seemed as good an approach as any.  Having said that, a more experienced runner pointed out to me subsequently that whatever approach you use, you should waterproof indelible ink  to scribe your number ‘for obvious purposes‘.  You have been warned!  Might just be easier to use a permanent marker pen and write your number directly on your forehead, and again on the soles of your shoes to cover all possible fall  scenarious, and aid the officials with identification. To be honest, the official version wasn’t especially hi-tech, so I guess as long as it’s visible (and indelible) any approach will do… though the trunce rules do state:

Numbers must be written in black (seniors) or red (juniors) on a white background, and digits must be at least 5cm high.

If you have been before (EVER) you can look yourself and your trunce number up here  (and even stalk other runners if the inclination should seize you, but best not to ‘fess up to that as it will make you seem a bit creepy).  My officially presented number looked like this:

You drop your £1.50 into the Tupperware box provided for this purpose.  I guess you could get change from the box, but it would be easier if you brought the right money with you.  Sometimes there is an extra jar around collecting donations for Mossienet (the photographer who routinely snaps awesome photos and asks in return for donations for his chosen charity ‘malaria no more’ – great initiative).  The jar wasn’t there today though, so donations on-line this week please.

Then, that was it, job done!  If you have been before you skip most of those processes, just join the queue on the right hand side (this doesn’t indicate political preferences by the way, so don’t worry about being judged in either direction), tell them your number (which is for LIFE not just for Christmas remember) and they record your attendance.  It was all very straightforward.  Phew.  Once you are in the rhythm of it (and the Trunce series means that the event takes place approximately every three weeks over the summer) you could parkrun like, breeze up and register in a couple of minutes I reckon.

Having got the logistics sorted, I relaxed a bit more, and had my first of two precautionary pees, and checked out the surroundings. People had started to mass, and the car park, though nowhere near capacity, was definitely filling up.  It was quite exciting, it had a slightly summer festival feel to it all.  There were also various juniors appearing, (there is an 11-16 route too) and it was fun spotting slightly different running club shirts from usual as this is a bit outside the usual Sheffield circuit (though lots of Striders and Strideouts noticeably present too).

I was keeping a beady eye out for my fellow Fighting Feathers, but not a great turn out in that respect.  On reflection, there were various riders given at the moment of commitment ‘yes, yes, of course I’ll come subject to work/ childcare/ leg being out of plaster’  those kind of things, so maybe I was over-optimistic about attendance.  Still, quality not quantity say I, and soon enough I heard someone shout my name, and emerging from the madding crowd was Smiley Hooded Fighting Feather Comrade.  ‘Poohead!’  An unfortunate nickname I grant you, and not fair, but unfortunately, if she is unable to control her teenage daughter’s tendency to access her mobile phone and attribute unwelcome nicknames to her, then she has to live with the consequences.  I’d love to re-write history, I really would, but I have to write with integrity, so there you are…  How fantastic though to see a fellow feather, and one with prior form on the route too!

We did some mutually encouraging whooping, and after small talk, she pointed out what should have been immediately obvious.  ‘You do know who’s doing the registration don’t you?’  Erm, hadn’t really been paying attention, but looked across and OH.  MY.  GOD!  It’s only Nicky Spinks, superhuman, mega-athlete, world record holder THE Nicky Spinks.  She who only yesterday completed a double Bob Graham of 132 miles and 84 peaks in an incredible 45 hours and 30 minutes.  I mean honestly, by rights, today at least she should be lying down in a darkened room in a starshape, having lard administered intravenously.  Or at least loafing about eating a great deal of cake.  Instead, she’s out and about at another fell race, being socially useful.  She must be a machine!  She is also fundraising for a cancer survivors’ charity Odyssey to help them get a mini-van.  Please gawd let her meet that target, this achievement is beyond extraordinary and hasn’t had anything like the recognition and acknowledgement it deserves.  I was so star struck you have no idea.  I mean, I acted all cool when Miss Piggy turned up for the Wingerworth wobble, but, with the greatest respect for Miss P and Kermit too, this was a different league of awesome.  I wanted to congratulate her, but she was busy with a queue of people registering.  I contented myself with taking surreptitious photos, though drew the line at a selfie with her behind me, though that was partly because I don’t know how to do so effectively as much as because it wasn’t a cool thing to be spotted trying to execute.  She was registering the ‘return runners’ not the newbies, which is my excuse for not spotting her instantly and bowing down to worship as I handed over my £1.50.  At least I presume that what she was doing, not just collecting to fund her next trip, though frankly even if she was I wouldn’t have begrudged her a single penny!

Not only is her achievement beyond words, I actually felt quite emotional that after all that running around and virtually no sleep, she was still giving back to other runners by volunteering her time and expertise to this event.  She has said somewhere that her fell running journey actually began with The Trunce, though I have a feeling that my participation here today isn’t quite a cast iron guarantee that I’ll be doing ultras myself by this time next year, I can at least claim to have followed in the footsteps of a record breaker.  Even so, can we have a moment to reflect on how awesome this woman is, not only in terms of her absolute achievement, but her grace in doing so and her support to other runners too.  Nicky Spinks, you may have no idea who I am, but for what it is worth I think you are AWESOME.  Sorry I was too star-struck to say anything by way of congratulation at the time, but I did clap a lot at the briefing when it was announced ‘officially.’  Nicky (yes, I like to think we are on first name terms now) has done her own account of the double Bob Graham record-breaking fell run which hilariously is done and dusted in about the word count it has taken me to get to the point at which I set my sat nav.  Seems she can not only run like the proverbial wind, she is also concise.  She is indeed an inspiration.  On a separate note, the fueling regime does make ultra-running seem more appealing.  I came across a great video that explains the defining features of trail/ ultra runners, more importantly, it’s hilarious – and the eating options for ultras are impressive, just as the skimpy shorts for fell runners are eye-catching, and sometimes eye-watering.  Look and learn.  You’re welcome.

So after this distraction, the next was seeing a buddy from Sheffield Hallam parkrun, the friendly one who isn’t in fact a Monday Mobster, who was there with canine companions and to support other runners.  She was until recently a Trunce regular though so able to share wisdom, laugh at my long running tights (I know, I know, legs do dry faster than leggings, but I still like having the protection) and try and get posed, pouting, pooch pictures.  Harder than you might think, but we did OK in the end.  My fell shoes were a pass though, you’ll be pleased to hear.

It was nice milling around in the sun.  Various keenies did some warming up, running up and down the first hill.  Not really my thing, why waste precious energy you’ll need to help you round?  I exchanged pleasantries with other runners.  A fair few were also first timers, some running clubs were really well represented.  Some were laughing nervously, whilst old handers exchanged horror stories of adventures past with loud guffaws and much back slapping.  It felt friendly and inclusive.  I was a lot plumper round the midriff than these other leaner runners, but I wasn’t made to feel unwelcome.

After a bit, as if drawn by some invisible telepathic force, people started moving en masse towards the start line, which was just a couple of minutes away from the registration tent.  Thanks to Tracy Hughes for this photo of the migration (I like to think of this as the Close Encounters moment – vintage film watchers will understand what I mean) – and some other pictures of the start.

So we all gathered, and it was a significant turn out.  431 to be precise.  I don’t mind this, because I figure I have a sporting chance of not being the slowest in a large enough field, plus it means I’ll have people to follow so no navigation required.  Yay!  However, listening to the discussions at the start some were talking tactics.  Early on you sprint up a hill, under a bridge, turn and after a long track go steeply down hill and to a kissing gate.  Single file only.  If you don’t want to be delayed there, get at the front and sprint up hill a more experienced runner suggested to me.  I looked at him and blinked with incomprehension.  I appreciated the sentiment, but this pudding wasn’t sprinting up any hills from the off!  There was a bit of official welcome and chat at the start which I couldn’t hear.  I applauded when others did, presumably thanking volunteers not a vote of confidence in Donald Trump.  I DID hear, a little word of congratulations and recognition for Nicky Spink, and clapped with extra enthusiasm then to compensate for my earlier gaucheness.  I tried.  Then, just a couple of minutes late, we were off – up the hill.  Lots of spectators standing on a bridge higher up could watch us fly off, and thanks again TH for some lovely action shots of the occasion.

A few minutes after us, the junior runners were released like greyhounds from a starting gate.  They do a different but overlapping route, my they were fast!  Oh, I haven’t explained the route.  Oh blimey, OK, to be honest, what you really need to know is that it’s about 4 miles (just under), with 524 foot elevation, chances are you won’t have to navigate.  The steep bits are very steep, but some people will walk them (I definitely did).  The terrain is pretty uneven (tree roots, loose stones, off-road) but by no means unmanageable – though it was relatively dry when I did it, it would be an extreme slidey option in the mud and rain.  You WILL get wet crossing the rivers but that’s the whole point of splashing through them surely?

The official blah de blah trunce course is as follows (and refreshingly written if I may say so):

From the Wagon and Horses pub carpark turn right and walk down the road, passing the small car park and then go through the gateway onto the track that head up towards the tunnel. The race start point is marked by a flat stone a couple of hundred yards up the track. It’s customary to group about 100 yards beyond the start point prior to the race and then be told to move back to the start line.

From the start head up the track. Pass through the tunnel under the Trans-Pennine Trail and continue up the track, following it round to the left as it levels out. Continue along the track past the farm until it reaches a stone stile. Cross the stile onto the grassy footpath which then descends steeply through a kissing gate and eventually reaches the river crossing. Whatever you do, don’t jump the fence at the kissing gate as you will probably get pelted with rocks. Cross the river either using the stepping stones, which can be slippy, or just plough through the water making sure to soak anyone trying to keep dry on the stepping stones.

At the far bank climb the stile and head up the path to join the road and head right down the road until reaching a public footpath that descends the field on the right to a footbridge over the river. Cross the footbridge and then struggle up the steep field to a gate. Through the gate follow the path that zig-zags up to another stile. Don’t worry about falling over the stile, as the soft pile of manure at the other side will break your fall.

Follow the path diagonally across the field towards a gateway and up a track. About 100 yards up the track bear off left and pick up another track, crossing a cattle grid as the track descends into a wooded area. The race route curves round to the right, then left and picks up a narrow path down into some trees where after a short while, it crosses through a narrow gap in a wall.

After crossing the wall, the path descends steeply over a few obstacles to the river. If you survived that bit, then cross the river, either directly, or using the stepping-stones and then leg it up the field to turn left on to the road.

If you’re a roadie, then this is your bit – there’s about half a mile of tarmac to steam along until you again turn off left down the path to the first river crossing.

The remainder of the route is the reverse of the outbound section, so have fun crawling back up the hill and along the farm track, making sure you save enough to look good on the finish!

After the uphill blast, and under the bridge, it was off down a farm track and within a mile into the back of a standing line of people waiting to go through the kissing gate.  It was hot, so I was quite happy to pause, and it was all good-natured.  Just before, we’d had some of the fastest juniors come charging past us, so they lapped us slower adult runners.  Waiting in line was pretty social.  One woman told me that on a previous event she’d witnessed someone trying to queue jump at this point.  He’d run past those standing patiently in line until a woman put her hand out to stop him with this great line ‘You want to be further up the queue?  Run faster!’  Sounds like he was put firmly in his place!  As we were waiting, we realised that those speedy pesky kids had completed their circuit, and were now flying back homeward bound through the kissing gate in the opposite direction.  This was a bit of logistical challenge, but worked out OK, with adults generally giving way to the juniors as far as possible and cheering them up the hill, which was really steep – I was cautious just going down it to be honest, and quite pleased the queue removed any pressure to run.  There were some spectators scattered about – here are some, thanks Tracy Hughes.

Once through the kissing gate, more down hill, and the path was narrow, so I got a bit stuck behind a slower runner, which was OK, and actually gave me some confidence that I’ve done more off-road than I realise.  The person in front was moving so gingerly it looked like both his legs were completely straight, it was bizarre.  I myself have it on great authority that my running style is in fact ‘comical’ (thanks Dr Smiley) so feel able to assess that of others with some objectivity!  After a bit we came to the first of three river crossings.  It was actually pretty shallow and nowhere near as slippy and scary as I’d anticipated.  It was quite a relief to plunge through, the water was freezing, and I was glad of my fell shoes which let the water out again.  It’s odd, I didn’t feel cold at all – I remember the same thing happened at the Dovedale Dash after the river crossing there, I thought running with wet feet would be horrible, but it wasn’t too far and your blood is up and so you don’t notice, well I didn’t anyway.  I might have felt differently if I’d done a complete face plant I suppose.  Hopefully I’ll never know… The field had opened out at this point, I think there was a steep up hill bit, which most of us walked, but that might have been before.  You know what, it’s all a blur!  I do know at one point we came out onto a road and there were a couple of marshals.  One woman looked really familiar and shouted out to me in recognition.  ‘I know you‘ she exclaimed, and then reeled off some possible events where we may have met, but none of which rang a bell with me.  Because I can’t talk and run at the same time I eventually just shouted ‘yes, that’s it!’ quite randomly, because it seemed rude to keep rejecting the ideas and just ran on.  This policy did backfire a bit to be honest, as subsequently we circled past these two marshals again, and she called out  ‘no it wasn’t! and made another suggestion which I didn’t hear.  I just smiled with what I hope was charm and appreciation, and continued wracking my brain for where I’d seen her.  But nope, still no  idea – though I know we have been at some event somewhere for sure!  Here are some random photos to break up the text, thank you photographer Zoe/ Ian Willoughby – here are some faster runners hitting the stones…

There weren’t that many marshals out and about, this is self-regulated running on the whole.  There were a few spectators, and some photographers with enormous lenses, though not noticeably enticed to snap away as I was coming through having drunk their full of falls and tears with the earlier runners perhaps.  One thing though was particularly awesome.  I was aware that close on my heels was a visually impaired/blind runner together with her guide.  The process of guiding runners fascinates me, there are a few round Sheffield way.  Indeed one guide has started a blog about how it all works which was both funny and insightful – boy guides.  One observation that sticks in my memory was his mention that when they do training runs together they have sometimes been on the receiving end of homophobic abuse.  This is horrific and appalling obviously but is it not also hilarious?  Are there really people who think that is how homosexuality manifests itself?  Two men running along through the hills together, seemingly holding hands like some sort of reworked timotei advert?  Even if it did, why shouldn’t they?  Just shows, ‘nowt as queer as folk‘ I suppose! (See what I did there?)

 The people behind me were two women.  The guide gave a running commentary, but I was still in awe of how they communicated and worked together, that terrain was not easy, but they breezed through. Even the narrow styles, and the bit where a whole tree blocked the path and you had to clamber over and down. The guide had one of those elastic stretch bands like you get from physio, and they each held one end.  I presume this is safest way to do it, if you were actually tied with a bungee (which I’ve also seen) then one falls you both go down.  I ended up giving way to them so they could overtake me when we got to yet another punishing hill.  ‘High knees‘ called the guide, and that’s how they did it I suppose.  The visually impaired runner giving an exaggerated knee lift like she was climbing up stairs to avoid stumbling.  It was very effective, but phew, it looked hard work.  Extremely impressive.   I sort of got that the guiding thing isn’t really an act of selfless altruism, it’s more accurately an entirely different challenge, the objective is to get you both round safely and that’s a cognitive and team challenge as much as a physical one.  Don’t know who you were but awesome.  You left me for dust, which granted isnt’ saying much, but you know what I mean!  Just amazing, what a lot of inspirational women were out and about at Oxspring tonight!  (This is a Graham Beardsley shot by the way).

The second river crossing was rather more spectacular!  There was a steep drop into the water, and I freely admit I did bottle a straight jump in, in favour of a gentle lowering of self assisted by grabbing hold of branches.  Probably not the most impressive action shot to be snapped on a run to be caught standing with your hands on your hips surveying the terrain, but it is an authentic shot so I’ll own it!   It wasn’t too deep, and weirdly, not slippy either, so I was happy to have a bit of a splash going through, not quite sprinting, but definitely making an effort.  This is legitimate. The idea of the Trunce series is that you improve your time over the duration of the events.  It is a useful tactic to start of with a crap time.  (A very experienced Smiley Elder fell runner told me this, so it MUST be true).  Crap time means improvement is possible at least, if not actually guaranteed.  I did get papped though, thanks Kerry Dickinson!  I think she also got a poohead sighting, but that wasn’t so sharply focused so can’t be sure…

Hands on hips assessing the terrain!

Ooh – late addition – action shot, shame I don’t know how to photoshop out my double chin, but perhaps if I don’t go drawing attention to it, you my reader will focus instead on the perfectly in focus water droplets I have stirred up with the ferocity of my running.  I was quite lucky not to attract any sharks what with all that splashing about!  (This is another GB shot by the way – not as in Team GB, not yet been approached about representing the UK for anything surprsingly enough, rather photographer GB).

You only do the deep river crossing once, then it’s back round and you retrace your steps.  I had a slight panic about navigation when I realised I was on my own, but glimpsed another runner disappearing off down a footpath just in time to see him turn off the road down the track.  Although there is some really steep climbing up on this run, it’s fairly contained, and you can wimp out and walk as I did.  Once you are homeward bound it feels relatively easy, there is a downward gradient, the sunshine was glorious illuminating bluebells in the wood and yellow rape in the fields.  The farm track seemed to attract some spectators who were shouting in my direction as I approached ‘NO STOPPING!’  I think this was aimed at the runner behind, but I do run faster when observed to put on my own little sprint too, albeit not in the same league as these guys captured by Tracy Hughes

From the farm track it was but a short sprint to the finish, and downhill.  There were plenty of runners who had finished by now who clapped and called encouragement as they wandered home and I puffed to the finish.  To my amazement and delight my fellow Smiley had waited for me at the finish which was above and beyond as she and her friends had finished a good 20 minutes ahead of me.  I really appreciated the solidarity though. Cheers comrade!  I even had an action shot courtesy of Gay ‘Strideout’ Fletcher.  Yay, get me, at least I look like I’m  moving albeit in a somewhat rotund fashion!

There were still a fair few lingerers to cheer us last few finishers home. THE Nicky Spink was on time duty at the finish funnel with another of the organisers, and you pass through a little avenue of cones to get ticked off what I think was a competitor check list to make sure all made it home OK.  I rejoined my fellow Smiley and we shared mutual congratulations then she had to rush off. I stayed on  for clapping duties for a bit, before wandering back to the car.  Walking back from the start/ finish I was joined by another runner who commented on how he appreciates the Smiley vest.  Turns out he is an event organiser with teamOA.co.uk His job sounded really cool, they organise things like pie runs, chocolate runs (there’s a theme) but also extreme vertical running challenges ultras king of the hill all sorts.  It’s more Huddersfield way than Sheffield territory, but sounds like a genuinely imaginative and interesting repertoire of events.  Need to check it out.  First though,  I changed my footwear, did my post event selfie, scraped  running related fliers off my windscreen and thought how lucky  I was to have this event so relatively close at hand.

Which is worse, post event selfie or the sandals and socks combo?  The dry socks were a moment of exemplary forward planning and the addition of sandals was both comfy and practical by the way, post fifty I care even less than I used to about such dressing in the dark type clothing adventures…

So, homeward bound.  I wasn’t last, but wouldn’t have mattered if I had been.  Lovely friendly event.  As I drove away I passed the organisers marching back to base and hoped I gave them a suitably winning/ appreciative smile.  They did an amazing job.  Speedy drive home relatively speaking as it was traffic free.  About half an hour maybe.  Home on a high. This is a great run out, and although driving out to Oxspring in the heavy traffic I wondered if it was worth it, I can report it was.  A snip at £1.50 a throw too.  I can quite see how it becomes slightly addictive to try to get there each time.  It is a lot of fun, challenging without being terrifying, and a great blast out in the countryside at the end of the day.

So, in conclusion, would recommend!

Thank you lovely trunce organisers for all your efforts, and the warmth of your welcome, very much appreciated!  🙂  Thank you too, all of those of you who took photos and shared them.  Also much appreciated.  I love looking at running photos, you can relive every exquisite moment again and again.

Oh, and I have absolutely no idea why it’s called the Trunce by the way, and I forgot to ask, project for next time.

Trunce Top Tips – summary:

For ease of reference the yadda yadda yadda of things I didn’t understand and therefore other first timers might also find helpful to know are as follows:

• It’s an inclusive event, think extreme parkrun on acid, yep, there are hardcore runners storming up hills, but there’s room at the back for the ‘have a goers’ too
• The rendezvous point is in Oxspring, use the postcode for the Waggon and Horses S36 8YQ to get there
• There is loads of parking, but although it’s in a field, it’s not a quagmire, so you should be fine, no extra payment required for this
• There are toilets in the pub for a precautionary pee!  Yay!
• The race officially starts at 6.45 p.m. and it takes place about 9 times during the course of the summer at approximately 3 week intervals
• If you haven’t ever done it before, get there early 6.15 ish is fine, as you need to fill in a minimal amount of paperwork (name, emergency contact, date of birth, location of your will – and your number once allocated)
• You get given a number the first time you go, thereafter, you are on your own.  This number stays with you ’til death, and could become the most enduring relationship of your life.  Next time you have to cobble together your own race number
• It is currently just £1.50 each time you run, you just deposit your money in the handily positioned Tupperware box and if you are a newbie they give you your number, and if you are not you tell them your number and they make a note
• The objective is to improve your own PB over the course of the series, points are allocated for that by age category (I think)
• Wear fell shoes
• Take a change of socks and shoes at least, maybe full set in case you get carried away en route
• Keep your sense of humour with you, it’s a hoot!
• I am told the last event of the year is traditionally in fancy dress.  Can’t wait.
• No dogs allowed on the run anymore (plenty with spectators though)
• Try not to be too star struck by celebrity attendees
• Just do it.

That’s it really.  Don’t miss out, just do it, what the hell…

See y’all at the next one I hope!

PS if you want the full Trunce virtual experience check out this headcam Trunce video courtesy of Jorge Bronze – first of four I think, but you get the idea!  Section two, section three, and then finish The videos are great, but the real thing is even better!

STOP PRESS – single video merging all the stages into one seamless editors cut courtesy of Jorge Bronze here