The Unofficial Fleet Half

I'm on a complete high this evening.

For the following reasons:

1. I didn’t have to plan my run

2. I had company. James (who kindly planned the route), and Tom.

3. It didn’t go up (or down) any mountains.

4. There’s a degree of relaxation that comes from knowing that some good mileage tonight means an opportunity to do a few less miles tomorrow, and still be on target.

So back to my old home town of Fleet: familiar pavements and kerbs, good places to cross roads, and the eternally blinky street light on Elvetham Road. My old stomping ground, literally.

Way back when, before the days of a GPS and GoogleEarth I used to run to work and back each day, and towards the end of each week I'd start varying my route home to try and up the mileage from the week before. I'd run easy on the way in (so as not to be too sweaty), and run hard on the way home. Occassionally I'd nip out on my scooter and ride my routes, to check the distance, but as far as pace went, I'd just start steady and keep turning the screw until I either got home, or felt a bit wobbly.

Tonight, thanks to James and Tom, was one of those evenings, and it felt great.

Three Amigos

I'd asked James last week to think about a run round Fleet of at least twelve miles. It was around the same time that I told him I'd be missing the Fleet Half Marathon this year due to work commitments. So James dug into the memory banks of marathon training routes, and using most of Fleet's main arteries, produced our very own Unofficial Fleet Half.

Both James and Tom are starting to log a few more miles again. Tom training for the London Marathon, James just to keep his health in check. Both of them work very hard, and suffer at least a couple of hours of commuting each day, so get out when they can.

Whilst I can normally hold my own against them away from tarmac, both are long-limbed, and naturally quick on the hard stuff. However, James has reservations about his form, and Tom's knees can suffer if he tries to run more slowly than normal.

So tonight I set the pace, with James feeding me directions in advance of road junctions. Beginning with a few warm-up miles in the 8:40s, with everyone looking comfortable and chatting away, I started turning the screw.

Often this just meant leaving Tom out front for a while. But with a bit of swapping about, we managed to gradually wind the pace upwards as we ticked the miles off.

Compared to my gentle plod last night, I felt on fire. The New Mizuno Wave Elixirs felt phenomenal underfoot, and I felt far more at home in these on their first outing, than I've done in either of my squidgier road shoes of late.

As the end of the run came in sight, I managed to convince the guys to press on to a far corner, rather than heading direct for home, on the promise that we'd back right off when we reached it. Not a bit of it, turning the corner we wound up for the final straight, and charged head to head along the wet road for the final quarter mile, bringing our run average to 7:45 mins per mile, with the final mile under 7:00.

I love trail running, and I have no objections to challenging conditions, but sometimes, when you're feeling good, a bit of pace on a hard surface can be the perfect tonic to a testing day, week, or even Janathon.

I read recently that you shouldn't try to run fast. The trick is to try to fly low.

(...and perhaps to eat a lot of chilli - nice one James)


Summary:
Today: 13.1 miles, 1:41 hrs, 1856 cals
January: 191.2 miles, 39:20 hrs, 25676 cals

Chaos cliches for runners

A butterfly flaps its wings in London, and thousands of miles away, a tornado sweeps through a Texan trailer park. Coincidence or chaos?

Neither, when was the last time you saw a butterfly in London? That particular example is actually a simple matter of supply and demand. If you want to see squirrels, leave nuts. If you want to see whirling maelstroms of destruction and terror, leave trailers.

But the butterfly wing is an interesting icon as far as cod-chaos theorists are concerned. The most common interpretation of this hyperthetical scenario is that any action, no matter how seemingly insignificant, can produce a benign chain of events, which increases in magnitude to become a malevolent disaster. However, an alternative, and more abstract idea works on the premise that the surface area of a butterfly wing is almost infinitely vast.

It is this premise which relates to tonight's run.

The principle goes as follows: if you were to measure round the edge of a butterfly wing with a tape measure, you would get a measurement, probably no more than a few centimetres. But if you looked through a microscope, you'd see the wing edge isn't as smooth as you thought, but actually much more wiggly. Hence, if you measured it again, but using a microscopically small tape measure, once you added all the ins and outs, the answer would be many times greater than your original. The closer you look, and the smaller your tape measure, the longer the edge becomes, until an almost infinitely tiny tape measure produces a wing edge almost infinitely long. With its outer edge almost infinitely long, it stands to some reason that the surface of the wing contained within the edge would be almost infinitely large.

Now, back to running (bear with me). How many times have you done "that" loop. Down the road, turn left, past the post office, left again past Maggie's house, left at the lights, and home. Maybe two miles, maybe six, but it's a bunch of lines that form a fairly obvious circuit. Well imagine that smooth loop is the edge of your butterfly wing.

Now, how long do you think you could you make that run, staying within the original loop, but just taking a few deliberate wrong turns here and there to make it a bit more wiggly? How much difference would it make to run into that cul-de-sac before the post office, and run all the way round the pavement until you came back out again? Could you double the distance without ever leaving the confines of the original? Without crossing your own path?

If you're trying to increase your mileage, either for fitness, or preparing for your first 10k, or marathon, then this technique works like a charm.

And when you've finally exhausted all the options within the loop, you can start adding a couple of wiggles onto the outside, and be amazed at the difference that can  make.

Victorian headtorch

I ran one of these tonight. I was tired, it was late. I was short on sleep, and long on things to do.

So after an early start, a long day, and a really nice dinner in the company of my wife, and my mother (thanks mum), I came home, put the shoes on, and went out the door, to see if I could randomly "butterfly" an hour's run into something nearer two.

I was quite pleased with the results, and true to my Janathon plan I ran some completely fresh pavements, and even found a few sneaky cut throughs, which I'll have to consider for other ventures.

It didn't end up looking like a butterfly wing, or the Norwegian coastline, a prehistoric fern, or anything remotely fractal or nerdy. But I'm fairly confident that no Texans were harmed in the process.


Summary:
Today: 12.2 miles, 1:46 hrs, 1711 cals
January: 178.1 miles, 26:38 hrs, 23820 cals

Low mileage, high input

Day two in Scotland, on the ground in the Tweed Valley for some "Mighty Deerstalker" event reconnaisance. After an icy drive from Glasgow, Gary T and I met with Stewart at the event venue (and incidentally the oldest inhabited house in Scotland), Traquair House.

Lots of walking about in the fresh snow, meeting estate owners and farmers, considering the finer points of unleashing over two thousand fancy-dress-clad runners to rampage through the hills and waterways of Innerleithen.



The ups and downs of adventure sports event planning

Eventually it was time to take a look at the nub of the event, a section of mountain bike course used in both the 5km(ish) and 10km(ish) races.
We ran from the empty carpark, which in summer might accommodate scores of vehicles of downhill mountain bikers, and in increasingly deep and fresh snow, made our way up the zig zags of the cross country black run, and push trail.

After almost fifteen minutes of uphill slogging, we paused to explore the first of the hillside's geographic features, known as a "rack", where forest harvesters ascend vertically up the slope to thin the woodland. We hiked and scrambled up the rack, before turning the Garmin back on for the jog back down to the main track.

Gary T and Stewart enjoying the sunshine

As the track starts to descend, the trees thin out, and today our hard graft was rewardded with a crystal view over the Tweed Valley. With such an opportunity to discuss the race routes from a clear birds-eye view, Stewart talked through the course, pointing out the intricacies of the course on the valley bottom six hundred feet below, and on the adjoining hills, half a mile to our east.

The respite didn't last for long however, and we were once again uphill, first in deeper drifts over fallen saplings, and then into the dark of the forest, to emerge onto the hill's uppermost trails at just under 1400 feet.

Then followed some of the hardest running of Janathon, as we clattered down the flank of the hill below, using a mounatin bike black run. In and out of trees, over jumps and through berms, and all the way in ankledeep snow, and plummeting like stones. Exactly the wrong sort of running for a month like Janathon, thighs burned and shins tingled, landing hard between long strides as the ground fell away beneath us.

Nice work if you can get it

Within a dozen minutes we were back on the valley floor, running beside one of the fastest flowing rivers in the UK, checking the banks for the condition of the event's established crossing points.

A few more stops to reaquaint ourselves with local allies, and it was soon time to run back to the vehicles and drive to the next round of meetings, and eventually, a stop in the new Whistlestop Cafe for some hot food.

Given the kind of mileage I've managed to rack up so far this month, part of me wanted to do a few more today, and I considered running again once we arrived in Edinburgh much later that evening. However, it's not many days I get to run up a mountain, and even though it was only another four miles in the bag, no amount of city running was going to improve my day.

Some people like to keep their feet dry. I don't mind wet socks every now and again, if it means my feet aren't stuck under my desk.


Summary:
Today: 4.0 miles, 0:48 hrs, 488 cals
January: 165.9 miles, 24:51 hrs, 22109 cals

North Country Boy

A slight change of scenery for me today: I'm up in Scotland for a couple of days of fieldwork, so was hoping to stretch my legs amongst the wild Haggis.

However, with business trips so time-precious, to be honest I'd have taken anything. As is normal for me on this kind of working trip, when it's time to pack a bag and jump on a plane, that bag had better be a sleeping bag, as you never really know when you might have chance to crash, or on who's floor.

This trip is all about project handovers, the main item in question being a notorious night run called the "Mighty Deerstalker", held annually in March, within the Tweed Valley. With daylight in such short supply up here, and much ground to cover, the plan was to fly into Glasgow on Monday afternoon, stay with Friend A (who happened to be in the city in his car), spend all of Tuesday "on the ground" in the Scottish Borders, then off to Edinburgh to stay with Friend B, before an early bus, for the first flight south on Wednesday. Time will tell how that plan unfolds, but it’s adding up so far.

When preparing the travel and accommodation arrangements, I had to stress to my hosts that each day would need to include a run, but more importantly (and more boringly for them) a bit of "quiet time" afterwards to jump online and blog. I gave them a bit of a brief as to the kind of run I'd be looking for, and this evening, Gary T (Friend A) completely ignored all my suggestions, and didn't disappoint.

Gary T is a legendary endurance nutjob in his own right, specialising in mountain biking, but with a background in orienteering, hill running, and adventure race design. Until recently he was the record holder of the Ramsay Round in winter, and his exploits into terra incognita are, in a word, extensive. Gary T is currently trying to train the last remnants of a Christmas Cold out of his system, in time for his participation in the 24hr "Strathpuffer" MTB event next weekend; so was glad to offer his guiding services for my run this evening, from his hometown of Strathaven, in the countryside south of Glasgow.

But first, we had a bit of work to do in the city. Stopping and starting in the car, flitting between urban and industrial locations, taking photos, and making mental notes. All in a day’s work for adventure sports event planners. But, the day had become nasty: dark, wet and windy, and a deep layer of water developing on top of the ice of ages underfoot. Gary T suggested an excursion, to begin Scotland's input into my Janathon.

In the clothes we were stood up in, we pushed the security button to be remotely let through a secure gate, and from the Govan side, ran through the Clyde Tunnel. Emerging into similar dreuch conditions on the far side, we continued along surface roads to the northerly entrance, and made the return journey. Mapometer puts it at just over a mile and three quarters. With some “woohooing” on route, the only person in the northern hemisphere who was having more fun was the random cyclist who buzzed past us as we descended from the northern side; who seemed to be aiming for the subterranean land speed record on his way to the fish shop.

Having picked through the remains of the commuter traffic, we arrived at Gary T’s at about eight, enjoyed a cracking home-cooked meal in the fine company of wife Caitlin and darling children, before putting our outdoor clothes on, and leaving the warm house behind. Gary T in cycling gear on his full-suspension MTB, me in running gear on my full suspension legs.

There’s not a lot I can tell you about our route, as Gary T simply said "We'll be out for about two hours", and led the way on his bike, with me following. Occasionally he’d jump off and push uphill, at other times he’d dash into the distance to negotiate a gate or bridge, with his rear light showing up against the snowy hills. We crossed fast running water maybe a dozen times, we went up and down maybe more hills. There was a roman road, and a terrifying cold looking waterfall. There was rain with big teeth, and deep, deep puddles forming in the refrozen snow underfoot. It was awesome.

Loving every minute of it!


Summary:
Today: 13.1 miles, 2:05 hrs, 1520 cals
January: 161.9 miles, 24:03 hrs, 21621 cals

The "Winter Tanners"

Answers to questions first.

1. "Winter" because there's a "Tanners Marathon" in summer; this is the January version.
2. "Tanners" relates to "Tanner's Hatch", which was a pair of cottages restored to create a Youth Hostel in the Surrey Hills. The first Tanners Marathon was created by the Epsom and Ewell YHA to keep the footpaths of Surrey in use, and therefore in existence. Good job too.
3. Despite being referred to as a marathon, it's not 26.2 miles. There are twenty mile, and thirty mile options, the route is changed with every event, with participants given a list of directions to follow, rather than any course waymarking. The Winter Tanners is five years older than the London Marathon
4. They're well attended by hundreds of walkers and runners each year. These days they're organised by the Long Distance Walkers Association, who organise hundreds of these Challenge events all over the country every weekend.

My bit:

What a great day to be running!

I'd signed up for this event before Christmas, and the onset of Janathon was simply going to make it more of a challenge for me, since I was going to have to go a bit slower than I might normally like. Today, as it turned out, it made no difference, as this year's route took massive advantage from some of the most spectacular views within the Surrey Hills.

GV summiting Juniper Hill into the morning sun (pic by Javed)

I arrived a little later than planned, due to the lethally icy conditions on the roads near home, but regular long-distance running buddy Javed was waiting for me at the start.

Javed is an excellent runner, and always good company on training runs, and in events themselves. He likes to regularly do a bit more distance than I would normally, and this year he'll be going back to the Thames Ring 250 (as in miles), in an attempt to beat his PB, which I think is currently around 94-95 hours. He may correct me.

Javed's also been key in bringing members of the Hart Road Runners club over to the "Dark Side" of long distance trail running, and Neil and Fiona were here from the club to run the thirty miler, plus Carol, Angela and Midge hiking the twenty.

Today's route was a mostly out and back affair, starting with a climb over Juniper Hill (little sister to Box Hill) into the morning sunshine, and an inspiring descent, contouring the southern slopes to a breathtaking view of the Surrey Hills in their frosty glory.

Leith Hill Tower - today we didn't have the clouds

As the frost thawed, the top layer soon became slippery, so through cattle poached field gates, and along wood edges our pace slowed as we slipped about. Still, plenty of time to take in the sights under a blue-bird sky, and swot up on the route descriptions.

Crossing through Holmwood Common and south across open valleys, from the most southerly point we turned to climb Leith Hill, the second highest point in south east England at 294m (highest if you climb to the top of it's gothic tower, but we graciously declined).

Some tricky navigation took us to the second of three checkpoints, where our numbers and times are recorded, and jaffa cakes and cups of tea are on offer (keep your gels, Paula). By this time I'd gone ahead of Javed, but since he typically knows about 80% of all the runners in any long distance trail event, I never worry about him being stuck on his own.

I pushed on to make the most of some good running off the slopes of Wotton Common, and other than a wrong turn (an extra 0.6 miles for Janathon I thought to myself), made reasonable time to the foot of Ranmore Common on the North Downs. It was here that I realised I'd stopped my Garmin, so made a mental note of my position, and sighed in relief that I'd done more than the 23.08 miles it showed (manual adjustments have been made in RuningFree using a Mapometer file), before battling the steep incline ahead.

The last five miles took a little more effort to keep the legs turning over. Since the twenty milers had rejoined our route, there were a few more people to say hello to, and a bit of support (peer pressure) is always good at boosting the pace. I managed to catch up a fellow runner with a few miles to go, and this spurred him on to accelerate, and me to stay in touch, to log a couple of eight-and-a-half-minute miles over the flattening countryside. Within the final mile I took the lead, and pushed home for a 5:18 finish.

All HRR runners came home safely a little later on, including Neil on his debut at this distance, who can now call himself an "ultra-marathon runner". His journey to the Dark Side is complete.

If this sounds like it could be your cup of tea, look up the Long Distance Walkers Association for a list of Challenge events near you. They're open to non-members, held on weekends, and extremely good value.

Right, up to Scotland for a couple of days of fieldwork tomorrow. Best pack my snow shoes!


Summary:
Today: 30.6 miles, 5:18 hrs, 3810 cals
January: 148.9 miles, 21:57 hrs, 20101 cals

Slip-sliding a Wey

More map-gazing produced today's little beauty - that and a welcome request from another adventure sports buddy, who wondered whether I fancied joining him for a run. "Nothing too crazy," said Tom, "less than twenty miles would be okay."

Not tooooo crazy then (!?). You can get the gist of the company I keep.

But the opportunity for a bit of company, and some new turf to run on was too good to turn down, so I naturally agreed, and tried to work out a suitable route.

Tom's gearing up for the London Marathon in spring, and as an accomplished rower has fitness in spades, and a naturally lean physique which suits him well for running (fast). What he currently lacks is distance in his legs, so since this would be his first run beyond a half-marathon, I wanted something fairly flat, and preferably soft underfoot to work his muscles, but without the joint impact.

Since he lives in Godalming, just beyond the start of the River Wey Navigation, the solution seemed obvious. A quick train ride from his house to Byfleet & New Haw station, half a mile walk to a lock, and then all the Wey back (do you see what I did there?) along the riverside. Simplicity itself.

Tom at the start - New Haw lock

In reality, the journey to the start was fine, as was the first few miles, when we discovered that within such close proximity to the roar of the M25, the quietest place to live was actually right underneath it, as occupants of the local narrow boats had discovered.

Before long however, we began to see the effects of all the recent snow and rain. Locks fixed shut, with red boards screwed to each gate, stating the river was in flood, and ensuring "strictly" no admittance.

They weren't kidding. Whilst the river remained clear of the path its whole length; in places, it wasn't by much. Folded reeds and beached timber indicated the recent water height, and with every weir running to full capacity with chocolate-milkshake coloured torrents, certain sections of water looked more like the Zambezi than a navigable channel.

The trail itself was groaning under the load. The freeze-thaw cycles that began in December has opened up the pores of topsoil everywhere, and it's soaked up everything since. Picking our way around floodlets of standing water, the ground beneath felt like a wet sponge, our trail shoes jut slid as we slipped the turf off the pastures beneath.

It certainly made for some heavy going in places. To be able to maintain daily runs of reasonable distance, I'm very conscious of not putting too much effort into any single stride. I haven't been jumping over puddles, or sprinting up inclines, so finding myself "wheelspinning" across long sections of riverside path was quite unnerving, and at times, very taxing.

GV almost ready for breakfast

Some parts of the run were excellent though. Tom and I chatted at how riverside properties can seem to be far more individual than other locations, and the view that you get of the buildings, and gardens is typically open from the waterside, rather than the road.
Many of the locks on route still feature occupied keeper's cottages, with no access by road at all. We joked that the job might come with a company boat, but it would need to.

Some harder surfaces through Guildford at mile twelve was welcome respite for me, and I appreciated the instant traction. Tom was still unused to the comparatively slow pace, and looked like he was stiffening up, but checking with each other that we wouldn't prefer to bail out and get the train back, we pressed on for the final chunk.
Watching marathon kayakers training in the river, I was immediately envious of today's exceptional current. Many years ago, I built a raft with the explicit purpose of navigating between Farnham and Guildford, mostly on the "un-navigable" (and therefore private) sections of the North Wey. With my good friend Thew, we enjoyed a sneaky morning of paddling and hauling, negotiating many fallen trees and ruined mills on our way. However, once we reached the official start of the Wey Navigation at Godalming, we faced an exhausting paddle along the final miles of a millpond-flat river. How jealous I was today of the ducks, floating downstream at a rate of knots.

Tom led towards the junction with the Wey Arun Canal (also known as "London's Lost Route to the Sea"), and then beyond it along the obvious towpath. The Ordnance Survey shows no path from this point, but Tom had run this section before, and mile by mile we reeled in the finish, and the finely cooked breakfast that awaited us.

Another good day's running (and eating) with thanks to Tom. More new trails for me, and a new distance accomplished for him. Tomorrow's forecast is dry and bright, so I'm looking forward to it almost as much as a good sleep!


Summary:
Today: 17.5 miles, 2:30 hrs, 2451 cals
January: 118.2 miles, 16.39 hrs, 16291 cals

There's no path, like a towpath

Tonight I planned to run for about 12-13 miles. Since most of my pre-Janathon musings on route potentials focused on shorter distances than I've been doing, I've been exercising my brain cells.

All the recent rain has made a lot of the local trails quite treacherous, and the last thing I fancy these days is an awkward slip, or a nasty sprain. I also don't fancy plodding the streets if I can avoid it, I'm not completely familiar with the urban sprawl from here (I should get a paper-round), but I know there are some very dark roads, and a few immovable inclines to deal with.

Smiley start - Brookwood Station

So I opted for the Basingstoke Canal once again, drove to Fleet, parked near the station, and took a thirteen minute train journey to Brookwood, which I may or may not have paid for.

Within a minute I was out of the orange streetlights, and illuminating the mud and mist of the Basingstoke Canal towpath for a dozen miles of unhindered squelching.

The air was mild, the ground was soft, and the deep puddles were completely hidden by thousands of fallen oakleaves. So much for safe passage, on more than one occasion I thought I was going for a swim.

On route I was thinking smugly that I'd remembered to take a picture of the start, and reminded myself to take a picture of the finish, when about five miles in passed beneath the largest bridge on this section, and saw the most amazing piece of art/vandalism (delete as you feel approriate). It's been a while since a woman made eyes at me in a tunnel, so I took a picture of that too.

What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?

It also gave me chance to show you why I use Ay-Up headtorches. They might be a bit on the premium side when compared to most simple LED lights, and they are only be available by mail order from Down Under, but they're totally bombproof, and lit this whole photo using only my headtorch. If there's one thing that makes you go faster at night over rough ground, it's being able to see where you're going.

Leaving the tunnel I realised that parts of the canal were still frozen, and inches deep in leaf litter from the rain of the last two days. I remembered a couple of years back, when James and I were training for the Devizes to Westminster kayak race, we paddled along here in the dark in our fast, and very unstable boats, and ran aground into ice. Kayakers tend to paddle by moonlight alone, as any kind of light on the boat sends crazy reflections and upsets your balance, and headtorches just light up your hands and shiny paddle. I have never wanted to stay dry so much in my life, slapping thin ice each side of the boat with the back of the paddle, and having to back out the way we came in before turning round. We must have been mental.

So the run continued, and I was feeling really strong. Happy with my pace, I started to think about my total,  and first began to consider that instead of running twelve or thirteen miles (whatever it turned out to be), I'd be daft not to go for sixteen, and round up my week's total to a hundred miles.

Sweaty finish - Fleet Station

So I stayed on the towpath, passing my planned turning, and in the familiar vicinity of Fleet was doing my arithmetic to try and give me a clean sixteen back to my car by the station. I ran past my old house, and on to the next towpath exit, before turning onto tarmac, and risking life and limb through the town centre on a Friday night.

Escaping unscathed, I checked my watch, and realised I might only scrape my hundred, I added a couple of jinks just to be sure. No-one wants to run 99.8 miles in a week, even if the computer says 100.

A quick stop for a scary pizza on the way home, and I reckon I'm ready for the weekend!


Summary:
Today: 16.7 miles, 2:10 hrs, 2354 cals
January: 100.7 miles, 14:09 hrs, 13840 cals