As I was climbing to the top of the Wheel Stones, in the Peak District another runner passed by below, where'd he come from I wondered? Even though I find it hard to pass rock without climbing it, I still get envious when someone overtakes/gets ahead of me! It's not a race, I don't know where or how far he's come but all I know is I need to get off the top of this rock and catch him up.
By the time I get down and find my map, I'd left at the bottom I'm after him. It's not a race, I don't know where or how far he's come but all I know is I need to and catch him up.
So that was the challenge Steve and I had set; to make the most of running in glorious weather in Snowdonia, get as much ascent and descent in as possible but be home by lunch time.
Excalibur is described as Britain's toughest marathon. Actually, that depends how you define tough. (I'm not being funny here, I found it very very hard)
I entered this a while ago and it was postponed due to snow and rescheduled for 18th May. I'm grateful for that as there is no way I would have dealt with 15' snow drifts.
Einstein said that the definition of insanity is doing the same things over and over again and expecting different results. He may not be on everybody's list of motivational gurus for runners, but for my second attempt at the Sandstone Trail Challenge, Al set the tone for my build up and approach to the event. Last year I didn't do enough long runs, drank too much water on the day and carried too much stuff. The result was cramp from about halfway and a time below what I felt capable of.
I am lying on my back on the forest floor. All that is missing is a circle of tweeting birds spinning above my head like a Loony Tunes cartoon. As I get back onto my feet, I look behind me for the first time in 5 hours, hoping not to see approaching hordes of runners, ready to speed past me so close to the finish.
Pete's a top bloke, like a lot of my cousins I don't see enough of them but whenever we get together, usually Christmas, special birthdays, funerals and the like we always have great banter and swap stories of how our different paths have taken us.
I'm not sure what it is about my extended family but we're sure as hell not normal! Let's just say many of us live a life of colour!
Picture the scene, it’s a beautiful day in May and I’m 21 miles into my first ever ultra race. My calves are cramping a little but life is good and I’m “enjoying the journey”. I climb up a stile only a mile or so from my home, a stile that I’ve been over dozens of times, and I lose concentration as I jump down the other side. My right ankle buckles and I hear a gut-wrenching tear as I collapse in a heap.
