http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/7691403.stm
The news reports might have been a complete load of codswallop, but at least I got on the tele so Rosie knew I was OK.
Monday, 3 November 2008
OMM 2008 - Look Mam, I'm on t'tele
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/7691403.stm
The news reports might have been a complete load of codswallop, but at least I got on the tele so Rosie knew I was OK.
Tuesday, 28 October 2008
OMM 2008 – B Class - Day 1
“It’s mizzling” I say as I stick my head out of the Friday night tent in the field next to Seathwaite Farm. “Mizzling?” responds Dave still tucked up in his sleeping bag. “Yeah, you know, like sticking your head in a cloud, being wet without actually raining.” It’s six in the morning and it’s still dark but the forecast downpour and hurricane strength winds hadn’t arrived, yet.
One cup of tea and a bowl of porridge with sliced banana and dried fruit later and we’re getting ready in the car and waiting for daylight to arrive. Our bags are packed at a hefty 10kg/23lbs each (how do the elite runners get all their kit in those lunchbox sized rucksacs?). We’ve got all the compulsory kit, including the tiny spare gas cylinder having been disqualified in the Brecon Beacons KIMM for not finishing with spare gas (a then new rule we hadn’t spotted) and enough energy gels and bars to power a small city. We’d seen the weather forecast the night before, namely hurricane force winds and heavy rain so we didn’t skimp on any kit. As a veteran (and finisher) of the ‘Howling Howgills’ KIMM I knew what to expect.
Daylight duly arrives revealing the clouds skimming the higher hills but not depositing their contents. With 20 minutes to go to our 9:05 start we go and drop off the car keys at the event HQ then walk up to the starting gates. We can see a trail of earlier starters working their way up the side of Glaramara.
We arrive bang on time as the marshal calls “9 0 5” and walk through to the first gate. The gate marshal then informs us that we will be using the Bad Weather courses with controls 2,3 and 4 deleted. “So it’s a Very Bad Weather course then” we quip prophetically . One minute later and we move up to the next gate to receive our maps. Back in the good old days these maps were untreated paper which we then copied the controls onto. Attempts to keep them dry were useless as they slowly turned to mush. How we ever finished a course I can’t remember. Nowadays they are preprinted with the course details and laminated with a thin plastic coating. Luxury. As we’d been told, three controls had been crossed off the course details. Some poor booger has had to manually amend the course details on 2,500 maps. One more minute and we’re off up the track.
A quick look at the course and I could see it was nearly identical to that of my first mountain marathon, the 1997 (I think) Saunders Lakeland Mountain Marathon, Kirkfell class. We weren’t destined for Glaramara. That must be some other class. Control 1 was up Styhead Gill then left up to the tarns on the top. Halfway up the rain started accompanied by an increase in the wind to a light gale force. As in 1997 Dave leads the way. As much as I love climbing hills my power to weight ratio leaves a lot to be desired and I struggle on climbs compared to other runners, not that anyone was running up this one.
At the top the wind introduces itself driving the rain into our faces like tiny needles of ice. We hunker down behind a rock to take a bearing to the control then it’s up into the wind. “Jesus” is whipped away from our mouths as we stoop into the wind. The peaks on our caps make good face shelters. Up and over the few low rocky outcrops on the top and we find the right tarn and control 1. Dave does the honours with his dibber and we’re off to control 5, thankful in this weather that we didn’t have to visit 2 to 4 which lay in a big arc round Scafell, over past Bowfell, across that soggy quagmire known as Great Moss (what must that have been like today I dread to think) and across the tops above Wasdale Head.
“North Western Wall Bend” was the description for control 5. That particular wall starts across the river from Wasdale Head and runs straight up 550m and over Lingmell heading in the direction of Broad Crag. The control sat on the 375m contour. So, how to get there? A straight line was out as it took us over the cliffs of The Band and Spouthead Grag. So it was down to Styhead Pass being blasted by the wind funnelling up the valley, to shelter behind the Mountain Rescue box.
The wind was fierce.
Having been in the AirKix freefall tunnel recently I reckon if Dave had tied a rope round my waist and I’d spread-eagled into the wind he could have flown me like a kite. Needless to say we didn't try that particular trick.
Time for a bit of route choice. We had two options, either drop down the Wasdale path then climb up the heavily contoured hillside or contour round the valley head then along the side without losing too much height. A real swings and roundabouts choice this one. The advantage of the fast path to Wasdale was negated by the headwind, two step forward one back. The countouring option had a few gills to cross, most worryingly Spouthead and Greta, as well as a fair amount of scree. I knew what the gills were like further up (uncrossable) but not down at this level. Not wanting to lose the height plus the potential of a bit of shelter on the north facing slope we go for the contours.
Back out into the wind we drop down across the head of the valley staggering like a pair of drunks as the wind plays with us. Luckily the gills didn’t present too much of a problem but contouring across what was mostly open scree or scree covered in a bit of grass was slow work. As hoped the wind wasn’t too bad here. Towards the end of our traverse we cross five smaller gills, all bursting at the seams with water, and round the curve of Lingmell back into the wind where we see other competitors ascending or descending the hill.
We’d come out a bit low due to avoiding as much scree as possible so it was a stiff and slippery climb up the very steep side of Lingmell to control 5. Going up was bad enough but coming down was a nightmare. The surface was so waterlogged it had turned into mush. There was no traction to be had (note to self: get some proper studded shoes next time). Every ten seconds we were flat on our backsides. It was too steep and rocky to slide down. Dave maintained his position as champion bogtrotter by finding the goopiest bits to fall into. As we approached the bottom I was thinking “thank god was didn’t land on any rocks when we slipped” when, right on cue, I do just that, right on my arse. A minute later my feet shoot from underneath me and I land on my rucksack snapping my waistband in the process. Good excuse for a new one.
Down in Wasdale Head the call of Wasdale Hotel wasn't strong enough (what I'd have paid for a bit of hindsight) to pull us off our course. So it was off to control 6, up and over the western shoulder of Great Gable (rather slowly on my part), past Windy Gap (I bet it was) and round Moses Trod to Tongue Beck (before it drops down into Ennerdale on its way to the Irish Sea). This control was manned by a radio marshal. He was ensconced in his little one man tent (complete with a couple of eggs (presumably hard boiled) that had rolled out onto the grass) in a very dodgy looking spot that looked like it would be very soon under water. He must have heard us trying to communicate over the howl of the wind as a hand appeared from the tent pointing at the control five yards away. We’d already seen it but were debating where to cross the raging stream between us and it. I’ve got a fear of these things after having to cross a swollen river in the aforementioned Howgills KIMM. That was an experience I never want to repeat. So Dave jumps it while I go upstream to where it splits and jump the two smaller streams. As I turned to do this the wind caught me and dumped me unceremoniously on the ground. Having bagged that one it began to feel like we were on the homeward stretch.
Control 7 was in a ruin below the old mining track running southwest from Honister Mines but first we had to find the track. Rather than follow the path marked on the map we took a bearing and cut the corner off by heading over the scree covered shoulder of Brandreth. Just as we reached the top of this the wind decided to get serious and Dave and I had to grab each other to stop being blown away. Even then it slid us along the ground. “Let’s get off this sodding mountain!” I screamed in Dave’s ear. So, it's over the fence and down onto the path. As we approach the mine track I looked over to the north and could see a waterfall over on the side of Dale Head. The water was falling half way down the hillside then it turned in a perfect U shape and rose back up before being dispersed in the wind. I’d seen this in the Howgills but this one was a beaut. Guess who forgot to take a photo.
We found the track easy enough and headed down looking for signs of the ruin. As far as I was concerned at this point, if it wasn’t obvious I was just going to keep on going down to the finish. As it was a couple of other teams were also looking for it so we veered off the track and found it down the hillside. Back onto the track and heading down to Buttermere alongside an extremely angry looking river cutting its way down through the rocks below Fleetwith Crag. It was frighteningly awesome in a take no prisoners sort of way. I hope to God no one falls in there I thought, especially me.
We’d come down this path in the Saunders back in the 90’s but it was unrecognisable. The whole hillside was writhing in rivers as it shed the month’s worth of rain being dumped on it. We had to abandon the path as it turned into a river and take to the rocks and bracken either side of it.
As we rounded the bend we could see the valley bottom. The Saunders campsite that we’d used back then was under several feet of water and even worse there were runners on the other, the wrong, side of the river. Down there it wasn’t the raging monster we’d seen but it was still fast flowing and unpredictable. We could see the tops of the handrails belonging to the footbridge across the river but now the river extended 20 feet either side of the bridge. As we watched groups of eight or so runners would form a human chain and help each other over to the bridge then across to safety on the other side. I was fully expecting the bridge to be washed away with people on it.
So, it was along the path, pick up the last control just off to the side then down to the finish. The fields to our left were flooded and we could just see the tapes for the finish funnel sticking up out of the water. So, quietly ignoring the official finsih line we continued along the track. We met a marshal as we reached the road. “Just wait for those others to catch up so I only have to say this once” she said. The others caught up. “The event’s been cancelled. Go down to the farm for some soup then go back over Honister to the event HQ” she instructed us.
And that’s when it all went tits up.
One cup of tea and a bowl of porridge with sliced banana and dried fruit later and we’re getting ready in the car and waiting for daylight to arrive. Our bags are packed at a hefty 10kg/23lbs each (how do the elite runners get all their kit in those lunchbox sized rucksacs?). We’ve got all the compulsory kit, including the tiny spare gas cylinder having been disqualified in the Brecon Beacons KIMM for not finishing with spare gas (a then new rule we hadn’t spotted) and enough energy gels and bars to power a small city. We’d seen the weather forecast the night before, namely hurricane force winds and heavy rain so we didn’t skimp on any kit. As a veteran (and finisher) of the ‘Howling Howgills’ KIMM I knew what to expect.
Daylight duly arrives revealing the clouds skimming the higher hills but not depositing their contents. With 20 minutes to go to our 9:05 start we go and drop off the car keys at the event HQ then walk up to the starting gates. We can see a trail of earlier starters working their way up the side of Glaramara.
We arrive bang on time as the marshal calls “9 0 5” and walk through to the first gate. The gate marshal then informs us that we will be using the Bad Weather courses with controls 2,3 and 4 deleted. “So it’s a Very Bad Weather course then” we quip prophetically . One minute later and we move up to the next gate to receive our maps. Back in the good old days these maps were untreated paper which we then copied the controls onto. Attempts to keep them dry were useless as they slowly turned to mush. How we ever finished a course I can’t remember. Nowadays they are preprinted with the course details and laminated with a thin plastic coating. Luxury. As we’d been told, three controls had been crossed off the course details. Some poor booger has had to manually amend the course details on 2,500 maps. One more minute and we’re off up the track.
A quick look at the course and I could see it was nearly identical to that of my first mountain marathon, the 1997 (I think) Saunders Lakeland Mountain Marathon, Kirkfell class. We weren’t destined for Glaramara. That must be some other class. Control 1 was up Styhead Gill then left up to the tarns on the top. Halfway up the rain started accompanied by an increase in the wind to a light gale force. As in 1997 Dave leads the way. As much as I love climbing hills my power to weight ratio leaves a lot to be desired and I struggle on climbs compared to other runners, not that anyone was running up this one.
At the top the wind introduces itself driving the rain into our faces like tiny needles of ice. We hunker down behind a rock to take a bearing to the control then it’s up into the wind. “Jesus” is whipped away from our mouths as we stoop into the wind. The peaks on our caps make good face shelters. Up and over the few low rocky outcrops on the top and we find the right tarn and control 1. Dave does the honours with his dibber and we’re off to control 5, thankful in this weather that we didn’t have to visit 2 to 4 which lay in a big arc round Scafell, over past Bowfell, across that soggy quagmire known as Great Moss (what must that have been like today I dread to think) and across the tops above Wasdale Head.
“North Western Wall Bend” was the description for control 5. That particular wall starts across the river from Wasdale Head and runs straight up 550m and over Lingmell heading in the direction of Broad Crag. The control sat on the 375m contour. So, how to get there? A straight line was out as it took us over the cliffs of The Band and Spouthead Grag. So it was down to Styhead Pass being blasted by the wind funnelling up the valley, to shelter behind the Mountain Rescue box.
The wind was fierce.
Having been in the AirKix freefall tunnel recently I reckon if Dave had tied a rope round my waist and I’d spread-eagled into the wind he could have flown me like a kite. Needless to say we didn't try that particular trick.
Time for a bit of route choice. We had two options, either drop down the Wasdale path then climb up the heavily contoured hillside or contour round the valley head then along the side without losing too much height. A real swings and roundabouts choice this one. The advantage of the fast path to Wasdale was negated by the headwind, two step forward one back. The countouring option had a few gills to cross, most worryingly Spouthead and Greta, as well as a fair amount of scree. I knew what the gills were like further up (uncrossable) but not down at this level. Not wanting to lose the height plus the potential of a bit of shelter on the north facing slope we go for the contours.
Back out into the wind we drop down across the head of the valley staggering like a pair of drunks as the wind plays with us. Luckily the gills didn’t present too much of a problem but contouring across what was mostly open scree or scree covered in a bit of grass was slow work. As hoped the wind wasn’t too bad here. Towards the end of our traverse we cross five smaller gills, all bursting at the seams with water, and round the curve of Lingmell back into the wind where we see other competitors ascending or descending the hill.
We’d come out a bit low due to avoiding as much scree as possible so it was a stiff and slippery climb up the very steep side of Lingmell to control 5. Going up was bad enough but coming down was a nightmare. The surface was so waterlogged it had turned into mush. There was no traction to be had (note to self: get some proper studded shoes next time). Every ten seconds we were flat on our backsides. It was too steep and rocky to slide down. Dave maintained his position as champion bogtrotter by finding the goopiest bits to fall into. As we approached the bottom I was thinking “thank god was didn’t land on any rocks when we slipped” when, right on cue, I do just that, right on my arse. A minute later my feet shoot from underneath me and I land on my rucksack snapping my waistband in the process. Good excuse for a new one.
Down in Wasdale Head the call of Wasdale Hotel wasn't strong enough (what I'd have paid for a bit of hindsight) to pull us off our course. So it was off to control 6, up and over the western shoulder of Great Gable (rather slowly on my part), past Windy Gap (I bet it was) and round Moses Trod to Tongue Beck (before it drops down into Ennerdale on its way to the Irish Sea). This control was manned by a radio marshal. He was ensconced in his little one man tent (complete with a couple of eggs (presumably hard boiled) that had rolled out onto the grass) in a very dodgy looking spot that looked like it would be very soon under water. He must have heard us trying to communicate over the howl of the wind as a hand appeared from the tent pointing at the control five yards away. We’d already seen it but were debating where to cross the raging stream between us and it. I’ve got a fear of these things after having to cross a swollen river in the aforementioned Howgills KIMM. That was an experience I never want to repeat. So Dave jumps it while I go upstream to where it splits and jump the two smaller streams. As I turned to do this the wind caught me and dumped me unceremoniously on the ground. Having bagged that one it began to feel like we were on the homeward stretch.
Control 7 was in a ruin below the old mining track running southwest from Honister Mines but first we had to find the track. Rather than follow the path marked on the map we took a bearing and cut the corner off by heading over the scree covered shoulder of Brandreth. Just as we reached the top of this the wind decided to get serious and Dave and I had to grab each other to stop being blown away. Even then it slid us along the ground. “Let’s get off this sodding mountain!” I screamed in Dave’s ear. So, it's over the fence and down onto the path. As we approach the mine track I looked over to the north and could see a waterfall over on the side of Dale Head. The water was falling half way down the hillside then it turned in a perfect U shape and rose back up before being dispersed in the wind. I’d seen this in the Howgills but this one was a beaut. Guess who forgot to take a photo.
We found the track easy enough and headed down looking for signs of the ruin. As far as I was concerned at this point, if it wasn’t obvious I was just going to keep on going down to the finish. As it was a couple of other teams were also looking for it so we veered off the track and found it down the hillside. Back onto the track and heading down to Buttermere alongside an extremely angry looking river cutting its way down through the rocks below Fleetwith Crag. It was frighteningly awesome in a take no prisoners sort of way. I hope to God no one falls in there I thought, especially me.
We’d come down this path in the Saunders back in the 90’s but it was unrecognisable. The whole hillside was writhing in rivers as it shed the month’s worth of rain being dumped on it. We had to abandon the path as it turned into a river and take to the rocks and bracken either side of it.
As we rounded the bend we could see the valley bottom. The Saunders campsite that we’d used back then was under several feet of water and even worse there were runners on the other, the wrong, side of the river. Down there it wasn’t the raging monster we’d seen but it was still fast flowing and unpredictable. We could see the tops of the handrails belonging to the footbridge across the river but now the river extended 20 feet either side of the bridge. As we watched groups of eight or so runners would form a human chain and help each other over to the bridge then across to safety on the other side. I was fully expecting the bridge to be washed away with people on it.
So, it was along the path, pick up the last control just off to the side then down to the finish. The fields to our left were flooded and we could just see the tapes for the finish funnel sticking up out of the water. So, quietly ignoring the official finsih line we continued along the track. We met a marshal as we reached the road. “Just wait for those others to catch up so I only have to say this once” she said. The others caught up. “The event’s been cancelled. Go down to the farm for some soup then go back over Honister to the event HQ” she instructed us.
And that’s when it all went tits up.
Monday, 27 October 2008
OMM 2008 - Wet, Windy and Blown Up by the Media
Just a temporary post to vent my spleen a bit. I'll do a full job when I get back to sunny Brussels.
Did Class B course (shortened version of the bad weather route) with my mate Dave S. The weather was extreme, violent and savage but was it dangerous? Only if you took completely avoidable risks. Clearly the fact that there were no serious casualties shows that people used their common sense and experience and survived (dare I say, enjoyed) the day. Look, I'm still smiling.
The biggest risk came after we were told that the event had been cancelled. Expecting to be back at the car that evening we dropped our guard and let our dry kit get wet only to be told we then couldn't get back to our cars. I spent an extremely uncomfortable night in a soggy field in my tent but it was hardly dangerous (there was a farm house 20 yards away!)
More later.....
Monday, 13 October 2008
All systems are go!
Well I survived the Ridgeway Run, or rather my calf muscles did. It was this run last year in which I tore a calf muscle that then put me out of the OMM. This year I wore the compression sock that I picked up in Switzerland. They seemed to do the trick (but how much was placebo?).
Once again I was Mr Consistency with a time one second different to my time in 2003. However it felt different this time. For once I wasn't passed by herds of runners on the uphill bits. I also had a ding-dong battle with the woman in the photo. We must have passed each other seven or eight times. As we approached the end, one marshall said "You're fourth lady" (not to me I might add), fifty yards on the next marshall said the same then fifty yards on again another said "You're first lady". Not sure how that happened. Anyway she passed me again and I thought I'd let her go then I thought sod it and took off for a sprint finish showing her a clean pair of heels.
All in all I had a really enjoyable run and a cracking day weatherwise
Tuesday, 16 September 2008
(Not so) Pretty Pictures
Well the photos are here but I sure don't get any prettier with age.
The compression socks have made their debut this year. No doubt I'll be afraid to run without them from now on. This is just before I nipped into my hotel to pick up my jacket (which you can see in the latter photos hanging from my bag belt unused).
Here's a couple from Chocolate Corner. It's all downhill from here:
This is just coming up to the finish:
Take a closer look at that thigh and knee in the first of the above three photos. What the hell is going on there? Looks like a tendon on top of my kneecap.
I bet that's put you off your tea!
The compression socks have made their debut this year. No doubt I'll be afraid to run without them from now on. This is just before I nipped into my hotel to pick up my jacket (which you can see in the latter photos hanging from my bag belt unused).
Here's a couple from Chocolate Corner. It's all downhill from here:
This is just coming up to the finish:
Take a closer look at that thigh and knee in the first of the above three photos. What the hell is going on there? Looks like a tendon on top of my kneecap.
I bet that's put you off your tea!
Monday, 8 September 2008
Just call me...
…Mr Consistency! Five hours of running (or trying to) and I’m within 50 seconds of last year’s time. I’ve always said that I’ve only got one speed and this proves it. I haven’t gotten any quicker of slower over 25 years of running. Maybe I need to review my training techniques! I was 1 minute behind a 71 year old Swiss guy and 30 minutes in front of a 73 year old. There’s hope for me yet.
Anyway, as you can see I managed to finish. Interestingly although my time was the same my position was much better than last year. 1478th compared to 1641st. My official splits (roughly every 10k) were all within a minute or so of last year. The winner was a lot slower at 3:03 so I don't know if it was a slower day. The results are out already, as are some photos. I thought the crowds were slightly down on last year too. Maybe with the weather not being as perfect.
Talking of splits, they added a new feature this year to try and prevent the bottleneck just after Wixi. They split to course into two alternative routes for a couple of kilometers. I took the new route which is probably a tad slower because of the running surface. It would be nice to compare the times of people on the different routes.
The biggest difference this year was that my fan club (aka Rosie, Vicky, Lucy and Polly) were missing. It was quite sad as I passed the 5 points where they cheered me on last year.
I can make one claim to fame: the greatest ascent of any runner. The weather was fine (largely sunny with a few clouds) until we reached Lauterbrunnen when I could see clouds forming ahead up above Wengen and Kleine Scheidegg so I peeled off and nipped into my hotel (conveniently situated right on the route) and grabbed my pertex jacket, a swig of Rivella and a banana. As my room was on the third floor I claim an extra 10m of ascent. I didn't use the jacket in the end but it gave me some reassurance having been on the top section of the route in August in 4 inches of snow. The detour might have cost me a few minutes but what the hell.
One strange thing happended around that point though. I was following the 4:30 pacemaker all the way to Lauterbrunnen but after then climbing up to Wengen I spotted the 5 hour pacemaker in front of me. Not sure how he got in front, as you couldn't miss the big green balloon he was towing, unless it was while I was in the hotel.
As with last year I took full advantage of all the water/food stations. I reckon I had enough energy products to kill an elephant but it seemed to work. I don't know what my stomach thought of energy bars, gels and banana washed down with isotonic drink, energy drink, boullion, coke and water every few miles.
All the bands, cowbell ringers, swiss horn players and steel bands were out in force. Those bells make a right racket. The bagpiper was at the top of the morraine as usual but it was a younger piper this year. Not sure what's happened to the old one.
By the time I got up to the morraine the cloud was down and nothing was to be seen of the mountains or glaciers. I'd been chatting to a few Brits on the way up who were doing it for the first time. It must have seemed pretty crap doing all that climbing and not being rewarded by the views at the end. Glad I'd seen it all before.
At the start I meet my friend Thanh from last year's training week and at the end in the shower tent I meet Danni. A few others from the training week were also there but I didn't see them. Later I was sat on a crowded train in KS waiting to go down to Lauterbrunnen when I saw Thanh struggling and failing to get on the next train down. Hope he got down OK.
So, what about the calf muscles I hear you say. Well I bought a pair of those natty compression socks at the marathon exhibition (photos coming soon)and apart from the odd twinge they seemed to do the trick. I got to the end without crippling myself which is a big bonus. I ache a bit but not enough to stop me running.
I went into Interlaken the evening after the race to watch the prize giving and the Jungfrau Mile. It was tipping it down by then so I, and everyone else, stayed in the marquee which is where the finish line was. I was about six feet from the finish line when the runners came in. It was shocking how fast they were. The winner, an Ethiopian, came in at 4:03. They must have handicapped the women as the rest of the runners all came in together behind the winner.
Another strange thing I noticed. Last year Interlaken was full of Koreans but this year you couldn't get away from the Brits. Three out of four tourists seemed to be British. Hardly saw any last year.
Oh and one last thing. On Friday I started coming down with a sore throat. Fortunately didn't seem to bother me during the run on Saturday but now I've got a full blown man-cold so I'm to bed to feel sorry for myself.
Photos should be coming soon. Watch the birdie.
Anyway, as you can see I managed to finish. Interestingly although my time was the same my position was much better than last year. 1478th compared to 1641st. My official splits (roughly every 10k) were all within a minute or so of last year. The winner was a lot slower at 3:03 so I don't know if it was a slower day. The results are out already, as are some photos. I thought the crowds were slightly down on last year too. Maybe with the weather not being as perfect.
Talking of splits, they added a new feature this year to try and prevent the bottleneck just after Wixi. They split to course into two alternative routes for a couple of kilometers. I took the new route which is probably a tad slower because of the running surface. It would be nice to compare the times of people on the different routes.
The biggest difference this year was that my fan club (aka Rosie, Vicky, Lucy and Polly) were missing. It was quite sad as I passed the 5 points where they cheered me on last year.
I can make one claim to fame: the greatest ascent of any runner. The weather was fine (largely sunny with a few clouds) until we reached Lauterbrunnen when I could see clouds forming ahead up above Wengen and Kleine Scheidegg so I peeled off and nipped into my hotel (conveniently situated right on the route) and grabbed my pertex jacket, a swig of Rivella and a banana. As my room was on the third floor I claim an extra 10m of ascent. I didn't use the jacket in the end but it gave me some reassurance having been on the top section of the route in August in 4 inches of snow. The detour might have cost me a few minutes but what the hell.
One strange thing happended around that point though. I was following the 4:30 pacemaker all the way to Lauterbrunnen but after then climbing up to Wengen I spotted the 5 hour pacemaker in front of me. Not sure how he got in front, as you couldn't miss the big green balloon he was towing, unless it was while I was in the hotel.
As with last year I took full advantage of all the water/food stations. I reckon I had enough energy products to kill an elephant but it seemed to work. I don't know what my stomach thought of energy bars, gels and banana washed down with isotonic drink, energy drink, boullion, coke and water every few miles.
All the bands, cowbell ringers, swiss horn players and steel bands were out in force. Those bells make a right racket. The bagpiper was at the top of the morraine as usual but it was a younger piper this year. Not sure what's happened to the old one.
By the time I got up to the morraine the cloud was down and nothing was to be seen of the mountains or glaciers. I'd been chatting to a few Brits on the way up who were doing it for the first time. It must have seemed pretty crap doing all that climbing and not being rewarded by the views at the end. Glad I'd seen it all before.
At the start I meet my friend Thanh from last year's training week and at the end in the shower tent I meet Danni. A few others from the training week were also there but I didn't see them. Later I was sat on a crowded train in KS waiting to go down to Lauterbrunnen when I saw Thanh struggling and failing to get on the next train down. Hope he got down OK.
So, what about the calf muscles I hear you say. Well I bought a pair of those natty compression socks at the marathon exhibition (photos coming soon)and apart from the odd twinge they seemed to do the trick. I got to the end without crippling myself which is a big bonus. I ache a bit but not enough to stop me running.
I went into Interlaken the evening after the race to watch the prize giving and the Jungfrau Mile. It was tipping it down by then so I, and everyone else, stayed in the marquee which is where the finish line was. I was about six feet from the finish line when the runners came in. It was shocking how fast they were. The winner, an Ethiopian, came in at 4:03. They must have handicapped the women as the rest of the runners all came in together behind the winner.Another strange thing I noticed. Last year Interlaken was full of Koreans but this year you couldn't get away from the Brits. Three out of four tourists seemed to be British. Hardly saw any last year.
Oh and one last thing. On Friday I started coming down with a sore throat. Fortunately didn't seem to bother me during the run on Saturday but now I've got a full blown man-cold so I'm to bed to feel sorry for myself.
Photos should be coming soon. Watch the birdie.
Thursday, 4 September 2008
And now, the time has come....
...curtains for me! Well, my name's on the definitive start list but without a number.
Not sure I'm ready for this but there's only one way to find out. Went out for a steady 40 minute run last night and didn't feel the calf problems but I didn't expect to. They only play up after an hour's running.
I've just got to pack then off to bed and up at 5:00 to catch my plane.
I wonder what my next post will say.
Not sure I'm ready for this but there's only one way to find out. Went out for a steady 40 minute run last night and didn't feel the calf problems but I didn't expect to. They only play up after an hour's running.
I've just got to pack then off to bed and up at 5:00 to catch my plane.
I wonder what my next post will say.
Tuesday, 2 September 2008
Phew!
Back to Plan A. I’ve managed to acquire a place from the wonderful Agnes of Germany who is not able to run this year (although still waiting for my name to appear on the definitive startlist. Good luck for next year Agnes! Thanks to all those who offered me advice on this: Umberto, Thanh, Richard.
So, about those niggly calf muscles. I’m not sure why but I’ll be fine for around an hour then one or both of my calf muscles just tighten up in a worrying ‘just about to tear’ sort of way. Interestingly if I ignore it it doesn’t seem to get any worse but there’s still that awful feeling that they could go at any minute. My mitigation strategy is to spend this week stretching them and then to invest in some of those natty compression stockings. I’m hoping that they sell them at the JM exhibition as they did last year.
Training wise I’ll just be going for a steady run on Wednesday night.
Wish me luck.
Saturday, 30 August 2008
Idiot of the Year. Duh!
This was going to be a post about my niggling calf muscles which seem to start playing up after an hour's running but that's been overshadowed by a much more important (and embarassing) discovery:
I'm not entered in this year's Jungfrau Marathon!
I've spent the afternoon looking for my entry details. I've been on the provisional starting list for months (and have just discovered the definitive list only on the German part of the website!). I have a dim and distant memory of having tried to pay my entry fee using the credit card payment facility on the JM website only for it not to work. I seem to remember emailing them about it as well (I'll have to check it out). [Update: I have checked and found that I did email them but didn't receive a reply.]
Anyway, net result is that I'm not in it. This is tempered only slightly by my niggly calf muscles which I reckoned probably wouldn't last the distance but it would have been nice to find out.
So, with my flights and hotel booked I'll be having a weekend in Lauterbrunnen.
What an idiot :o(
Thursday, 7 August 2008
Pakistani Panic
I nearly forgot to tell you. A couple of weeks ago I was running along a road near the forest when I saw ahead of me a load of posh cars parked up (mostly big fat black mercs) outside a big fenced building. There were a few blokes milling around outside. It wasn't until I was within a few yards of them that I noticed they were all driver / body guard types. As I approached they all looked at me nervously and patted their pockets or put their hand inside their jackets. Inside the fence there was some kind of party going on and a Pakistani flag draped on a flag pole.
So there's me complete with bottle in hand and bag round my waist running at a gang of armed and edgey men. I couldn't stop as that would have made things worse so I just kept running hoping that they would give me the benefit of the doubt.
Needless to say I came back a different way.
So there's me complete with bottle in hand and bag round my waist running at a gang of armed and edgey men. I couldn't stop as that would have made things worse so I just kept running hoping that they would give me the benefit of the doubt.
Needless to say I came back a different way.
Trams, Drains and the Dark
Last night I thought I'd be clever and get the tram out to Tervuren, which is on the eastern edge of the Foret de Soigne, then run back through the forest to my flat. This would let me get into parts of the forest that would normally be out of my reach. So off I went only to get to my start point at a belated 8:20. This gave me about an hour or so of daylight for a 12 mile run through unfamiliar forest. Ooops methinks.
So off I set. By the way this was the back end of a 30 degree day so it was a trifle warm and sticky. Everything's going fairly smoothly with me having to check the map at just about every junction (couldn't afford a wrong turn). A couple of miles in I hit Runner Central. Near a suburb called Auderghem (or Oudergem for my Flemish friends (hope I got that the right way round)) there were runners everywhere. In the space of twenty minutes I must have seen twenty individuals and three clubs out running. Must be something in the water there.
A couple of miles later and I'm following this track which on the map appears to cross the main railway line only to find my way barred by a ten foot high fence with no other likely crossing point for miles. Fortunately I'd previously been on the other side of this line and knew that there was a storm drain that went underneath the railway embankment. I just had to find it in the woods. I thankfully chose the right direction to look and found it about 200 yards away. This drain allowed a stream to cross under the line. It was about four foot high, a couple of feet wide, a hundred foot long and full of cobwebs. A small price to pay for saving a three mile diversion.
By the time I'd navigated this it was starting to get dark. Under the trees it was doubly dark so It wasn't long before I couldn't see the ground I was running on. Fortunately I was back in familiar territory so I didn't have to read the map any longer.
As if this wasn't enough ny right calf was tightening up in that worrying 'just aout to tear' way. So decision time, do I walk and get back at midnight or keep on running. I decided on the latter keeping a very close watch on the calf. It started to cramp at one point which scared me but I eventually managed to get back to my flat in one piece at 10 o'clock.
Didn't see many joggers in the park funnily enough.
So off I set. By the way this was the back end of a 30 degree day so it was a trifle warm and sticky. Everything's going fairly smoothly with me having to check the map at just about every junction (couldn't afford a wrong turn). A couple of miles in I hit Runner Central. Near a suburb called Auderghem (or Oudergem for my Flemish friends (hope I got that the right way round)) there were runners everywhere. In the space of twenty minutes I must have seen twenty individuals and three clubs out running. Must be something in the water there.
A couple of miles later and I'm following this track which on the map appears to cross the main railway line only to find my way barred by a ten foot high fence with no other likely crossing point for miles. Fortunately I'd previously been on the other side of this line and knew that there was a storm drain that went underneath the railway embankment. I just had to find it in the woods. I thankfully chose the right direction to look and found it about 200 yards away. This drain allowed a stream to cross under the line. It was about four foot high, a couple of feet wide, a hundred foot long and full of cobwebs. A small price to pay for saving a three mile diversion.
By the time I'd navigated this it was starting to get dark. Under the trees it was doubly dark so It wasn't long before I couldn't see the ground I was running on. Fortunately I was back in familiar territory so I didn't have to read the map any longer.
As if this wasn't enough ny right calf was tightening up in that worrying 'just aout to tear' way. So decision time, do I walk and get back at midnight or keep on running. I decided on the latter keeping a very close watch on the calf. It started to cramp at one point which scared me but I eventually managed to get back to my flat in one piece at 10 o'clock.
Didn't see many joggers in the park funnily enough.
Trees and more trees
To summarise the last few weeks I've been getting acquainted with the afore mentioned Foret de Soigne (or Zonienwoud depending on which side of the Flanders (Flemish) - Woloon (French) divide your allegences lie). I've got to the stage now where I don't have to take my compass with me (apart from last night (see next post)).
If the truth be known it's actually Dave's compass. He kindly let me have it when I lost mine when I went up to do the Three Peaks. On close inspection the dial is calibrated into 64 divisions instead of the usual 360 degrees. Very useful. Picked it up cheap says Dave. No bloody wonder says I. Anyone any idea what these 64 things are?
Back to the woods. A word of advice to anyone who manages to get a run in these woods. First get a good map then choose a route that follows the sentier (footpaths) rather than the tracks. They are much more interesting and scenic.
I've been getting into the woods a couple of times a week. The first part of the wood that I enter from the direction of my flat is actually a park (pond, cafe, joggers etc.) but you're soon into the forest proper where you see the occasional runner but its fairly empty most of the time. Last week there was a guy in the middle of the forest practising his trumpet playing. Makes a change from birdsong.
I've seen a couple of red squirrels, one of which didn't seem to notice me and just kept shuffling around in the leaves just a few feet away. Not like the grey squirrels at home that scoot up a tree if you so much as look at them. I've also seen evidence of the wildboar where they'd been rooting around a tree making a mess of the ground.
At first sight it all looks pretty much the same but after a few visits you start to recognise the different paths and tracks. There's a couple of paths that follow streams (dry at the mo) that I particularly enjoy as they are twisty and rolling and great for running along. I bet the woods look good in autumn.
Coming back you have to go through the park and you get to play 'burn off the jogger' to your hearts content. I know it's wicked but it's great fun. While I'm at it can someone explain to me why when it's nearly 30 degree centigrade you would think it a good idea to go for a run (sorry, jog) in tracky bottoms, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, a scarf and a hat? Seen it more than once in the park.
Is it me or what?
P.S. Decided to enter the Brussels Marathon on Oct 5th. Be silly not to while I'm here. It goes past the end of my street.
If the truth be known it's actually Dave's compass. He kindly let me have it when I lost mine when I went up to do the Three Peaks. On close inspection the dial is calibrated into 64 divisions instead of the usual 360 degrees. Very useful. Picked it up cheap says Dave. No bloody wonder says I. Anyone any idea what these 64 things are?
Back to the woods. A word of advice to anyone who manages to get a run in these woods. First get a good map then choose a route that follows the sentier (footpaths) rather than the tracks. They are much more interesting and scenic.
I've been getting into the woods a couple of times a week. The first part of the wood that I enter from the direction of my flat is actually a park (pond, cafe, joggers etc.) but you're soon into the forest proper where you see the occasional runner but its fairly empty most of the time. Last week there was a guy in the middle of the forest practising his trumpet playing. Makes a change from birdsong.
I've seen a couple of red squirrels, one of which didn't seem to notice me and just kept shuffling around in the leaves just a few feet away. Not like the grey squirrels at home that scoot up a tree if you so much as look at them. I've also seen evidence of the wildboar where they'd been rooting around a tree making a mess of the ground.
At first sight it all looks pretty much the same but after a few visits you start to recognise the different paths and tracks. There's a couple of paths that follow streams (dry at the mo) that I particularly enjoy as they are twisty and rolling and great for running along. I bet the woods look good in autumn.
Coming back you have to go through the park and you get to play 'burn off the jogger' to your hearts content. I know it's wicked but it's great fun. While I'm at it can someone explain to me why when it's nearly 30 degree centigrade you would think it a good idea to go for a run (sorry, jog) in tracky bottoms, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, a scarf and a hat? Seen it more than once in the park.
Is it me or what?
P.S. Decided to enter the Brussels Marathon on Oct 5th. Be silly not to while I'm here. It goes past the end of my street.
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