Ooh where to start? Maybe I'd best put you out of your misery re The Tough Ten. Well I did it and it was fine. There. Makes for a boring blog though, doesn't it? Actually I'll tell you exactly how it was. First of all I suddenly developed late-onset ability denial or LOAD. I just made that syndrome up. Basically I thought I was feeling alright about it all when all of a sudden out of the blue I panicked. I thought about how it had been ages since I'd done a hilly run (not so) and how I hadn't really done a long distance in one go because I was doing all my long run run/walk sessions with S (what are you talking about you blethering idiot? - miles are miles!). So I did what any sane-minded woman would do and lazed about in a deep bubbly hot bath with Ian Rankin ('s latest bestseller). Come the day itself I felt slightly stressed because my son and husband were supposed to be manning one of the water stations and suddenly we were up to our necks in massive water containers. Plus all the logistics of picking up Scouts etc. Personally, when I'm supposed to be doing a race that I'm dreading and for which my only other experience was sheer purgatory, I'd appreciate a bit more of a Zen-like atmosphere.
The race was brilliantly organised. By sheer good fortune, as I entered the parking field I was told to start another line and so I ended up right near HQ. Yippee. Not so far to stagger afterwards. Race number and timing chip picked up and affixed? Tick. Plenty of friendly faces? Tick. Off we ambled to the start line. The next thing I knew - we were off. No going back. All I could think about was going very slowly and so gradually I slipped to the back. Excellent. Just the way I like it. I could see my pals ahead of me. Our club vest is very distinctive. First of all and as usual it all feels pretty rubbish. This is where you have to remind yourself that it will pass and that soon you will feel much better. The urge to stop and go off and do something much more enjoyable is almost overwhelming at this point.
However I'm no quitter so I stuck at it. I was having a very nice time chatting to J who is lovely chap and an absolute inspiration as he is still running in his seventies. At one point he asked me if I would turn round and see if I could see another old chap we had passed. This must be the one and only time I have ever turned round and looked behind me in a race. It felt most strange. I couldn't see him and J was well pleased as his only goal in this race was to come in ahead of him! Hah! Still we trotted on and then eventually I caught up with my pals. By this time the hills had started up and I knew that I had to face my demons because it was after one of these hills last year that I lost it and ended up walking amongst all the discarded gel packets and water bottles. I even saw a fallen jelly baby. Green it was, its face twisted in a silent scream. Yikes, I was right back there for a moment. Anyway, the hills - what you have to do is find your rhythm and then just hang in there. Do not look up! If you look up when you are really struggling and discover there is even more to the hill than you first thought ... disaster. Do not do it I tell you. Of course sometimes it's not advisable to look up at all. As I discovered when I did it and realised that I could see runners way up ahead of me. And by 'way up' I mean 'way up in the air going up a mahoosive hill that I had yet to scale'! Not good for the ol' motivation really. But what really helped was knowing that some of our brilliant club members were marshaling and that sooner or later I would see their smiling faces. When that happened it was brilliant! What a surge of renewed happiness. Also having three water stations was very welcome indeed. Plus since it was quite a warm day it was good to have the chance to douse myself with some water round the back of the neck and over the bonce. The only slight jitter was when I had got up a hill thinking it was the one I had been dreading and then realised it was yet to come. Eek. Serves me right for basking in a spot of self-congratulation and smugness before the job was truly done.
All in all me and K cantered along together through thick and thin and finally we entered the home straight. I had picked up speed but alas the course started to rise again. Curses! It was not far but it was enough to put a spoke in my so-called downhill finish and so I gazed wistfully at the soles of K's running shoes as she headed off. Result? I came in at almost 13 minutes faster than last year! Who hoo! Whe-hay! And various other celebratory shrieks and goal celebrations. A T-shirt. Not long-sleeved this time alas but what the hey. A tasty bacon roll and a post-race massage. Fantastic! So there you go. A wonderful experience this time. And the moral of the story my friends? It is, naturally...
If at first you don't succeed - try, try, try again!
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