Far be it from me to suggest that women can't read maps! As the proud holder of a geography degree, I have always loved a good map (although there is of course far more to geography than reading maps and colouring in...), and I like to think I'm pretty handy at following them. It's not the map so much as the "left" and "right" I find tricky, so I have been known to have the map upside down if necessary. Anyway, on this occasion I couldn't - obviously - take a map with me, and I blame my menopausal memory rather than my map reading skills for getting me lost and adding more than necessary to this weekend's run.
The plan called for 140-150 minutes, taken slowly, but as I had done 150 minutes last week I thought I could quite sensibly add on an extra 10 minutes or so. I planned out a route which would take me up to Woking, along some of the route to be used next week in the Surrey Half, then head along the Basingstoke Canal towpath to St John's and Brookwood, then back home. I reckoned this was about 14 miles which would be my longest run ever. I also planned to do some nutritional experimenting en route, with some chopped up energy bar in a little bag, and a sports gel sachet to take along the way.
I got up early to ensure I'd had my porridge, and set off just before 9:00. The first six miles passed really easily, I was breathing well and smoothly and just moving along in a good rhythm, one foot in front of the other. I had some more Desert Islanders to listen to, including Sir David Attenborough who was fascinating but had some bizarre music choices - a recording of an Australian liar/lyre (?) bird and some Balinese Gamelan music among them. Jamie Cullum was much more to my taste, and he even played some of his selections on the piano, and Hugh Laurie was very funny and chose some great blues and jazz tunes. Once I'd got to six miles I was in the middle of Old Woking and had to turn off the main road, with which I am very familiar, and head up a few back roads. I knew this part of the route formed part of next weekend's race, so when I saw some "road closed, March 9th" signs I assumed that was the way up to Woking, so I turned left. Oops. Half a mile later I was back where I'd been already, whereupon I had a choice to go round the loop again and get back on my planned route, or deviate and head off somewhere else without really knowing how far I was going. I decided to stick with what I'd planned originally, and eventually got back to where I should have been. At about eight miles I slowed to a walk up a not insignificant hill, and took the opportunity to get my energy bar cubes out. I think the action of running plays havoc with your other systems, particularly your digestive system, and my stomach didn't appear too happy to have anything put in it, other than the regular tiny sips of Lucozade which it seems to tolerate quite well. I had half a dozen tiny cubes and almost immediately got really bad stomach cramps. Three minutes later though, it had cleared up and I assume the energy began to be released from the fruit and nuts as I was able to keep plodding on.
Once on the tow path I felt as if I was "heading home", which of course I wasn't yet but it felt better psychologically. Lots and lots of anglers sitting along the canal bank - why? At 11 miles I tried my gel; the first challenge was ripping the thing open! Eventually I made a big enough hole to squeeze the gloop out through, and I think gloop is the best word I can think of to describe it. The taste was fairly nondescript although it was supposed to be lemon and lime, but the texture was quite vile and slimy. After the first mouthful though it wasn't such a shock, and I managed to get it down ok, although it was very sticky and I had to wash my hands in a puddle to clean the sticky off. I don't know what I was expecting but I didn't feel any discernible boost at any point; I guess it must have been working in the background though as I was able to keep going beyond the 2 1/2 hour point that floored me last week. I got to 13 miles in 2h 33m, but I knew I was still at least two miles from home. What can you do though? I carried on, with a short walk when I thought about stopping but decided I was feeling ok enough to make it to 15. My feet were aching and my hips were sore but nothing I wouldn't have been expecting after all that distance. I did indeed stop (running) at 15 miles, just five minutes short of three hours, and walked slowly home the last 3/4 mile, just to keep loose, and to phone hubby in case he was worrying about me being out longer than expected (he wasn't). I'd also run out of Lucozade in my running bottle, which is an oval shape so it's really easy to carry but it's only diddy and doesn't hold quite enough for these longer runs. For quite a long time I had been quite preoccupied with rationing what I had left and was even looking at puddles and wondering how clean they were...! So as I passed my friendly local Honda dealers as I walked home, I popped in and asked if I could top up with some water, which was very welcome.
Fifteen miles done then. In my head that's quite a milestone; it seems a lot more than 13 for some reason, and it's what the Marathon organisers say you need to be able to do comfortably four weeks before the event in order to know you'll be able to complete it safely. So that's that ticked off, and now next week's Half should be a doddle. And I never in a million years ever thought I'd say that! (And there'll be helpful marshalls so I won't get lost...)
No comments:
Post a Comment