....and ....I’m ....spent

Summary time! Let the cringing commence!

True, perhaps, but it would be remiss to wrap this up without some reflection.

For me, Janathon has been equally invigorating, and exhausting. From the initial trepidation of logging and blogging, the dread of watching Jenks and Auswomble bunging on the miles in that first crazy fortnight, and finally the enduring battle to honour the efforts of Janathoners everywhere, to keep it on, and make it good.

I’ve become increasingly grateful for many things, but particularly: the sense of community, the applications of technology, the joy of geography, and ultimately, the arrival of February.

But three things stand out above all else, which have continued to amaze, inspire and encourage.

First, that this carcass of mine has gone the distance. I expected some degree of dilapidation, but it’s hung together, and I’m hugely relieved. To put this into perspective, this is seven and a half times further than I ran in December, and the last time I last ran for six days in a row was 1993. I hadn’t planned on reaching half the mileage I ended up with, and good health should never be taken for granted.

Second, that runners of all abilities, with very different demands on their time and efforts, have risen to the challenge, and motivated one another with their blogs, comments and daily miles. Personal goals have been set and smashed, and I’ve watched people with plans foiled by illness, injury and loss, simply pick themselves up, set new targets, and go on to reach them. When I’ve felt least like hitting the trails, or most like just going round the block, it’s the thought of these achievements that have produced the miles.

Thirdly, that my wife puts up with all this. She doesn’t necessarily understand why I choose to set these targets, or why I feel compelled to exceed them (how could she, when I don’t?), but she understands that it’s important to me. She’s lived with a month of stinky running gear, prolonged absences and late nights, and my limited ability to focus on much else than the next run, or the last blog. I love you Rabbit.

As much as it would have been nice to finish with a mammoth run, thankfully I did that yesterday, and tonight’s run had a pleasant irony instead. On the 4^th of January I printed a map of an eight and a half mile tarmac loop and stuck it on my wall. I’d intended to run it that night, and to continue with five to ten miles on weekdays, and a bit more at weekends. However, seeing myself in the top three, the game changed, the route never got a look in, and I beasted myself on ten and fifteen milers instead.

In order to hit the magic 450, yesterday’s efforts left just eight and a bit miles to go, and the discarded route was finally unpinned and studied. Perfect. For the first time in January I left the pack at home. No bottle, no phone, no iPod, no map: just the route in my head, and some ground to cover. It felt good.

Running clockwise left a gradual descent for the final mile and a half. Kicking hard on the home straight was such a luxury, I felt alive, and optimistic. I hope that Janathon becomes for many people the foundation stone of a year of activity. I'm glad to have been a part of it.

Thanks to Cathy and Sean for setting it up, and roping me in respectively. To the dozen or so local runners that have joined me, and to all those that have jogged, logged and blogged alongside.

I look forward to meeting as many of you as possible in London, on the 12^th. I’ll be the sleepy looking one in the corner.

: )


Summary:
Today: 8.6 miles, 1:04 hrs, 1204 cals
January: 450.3 miles, 65:05 hrs, 61025 cals (that's 263 Cadbury's Twirls I owe myself)

End Game

Yesterday, Javed and I discussed my final targets for Janathon. It seems a little late in the day to be working out what to do next, but Janathon Plans A, B and C all went out the window weeks ago, and with two days left, three possibilities remained:

A. Do very little. I’ve cleared 400 miles, I’ve exceeded all my expectations. Let recovery begin.
B. Do a “reasonable” amount. Back off the mileage a bit, but not so much as to look like I’m resting on any laurels, taking the mickey, or whatever.

C. Keep it on. Set a target, make it happen.

In the process of discussing this, we also weighed up some potential targets, if option C were chosen:

434 miles – equivalent to exactly 14 miles every day in January. Tidy.

438 miles – equivalent to 700km. A nice round figure (in metric at least).

444 miles – equivalent to nothing much, but a good looking number.

450 miles – beautiful, but realistically ridiculous. Too much, too late.

I realised by late afternoon that our discussion had rendered Options A and B obsolete.

With 416.5 miles already banked, I’d need to average over 9 miles today, and tomorrow. Potentially less than I’ve done up until now, but would I be content with hitting the lowest of those targets, if the opportunity was there to do more? I was sure the bigger numbers remained possible, though a month ago I wouldn’t have believed I’d be sat here writing this.

But....  I want some time at home, I need some more sleep, I have a long trail run in the diary for next week, and frankly, the tanks are pretty empty.
 

Anti-Janathon Public Notice

So last night, I considered today’s run. I figured the least I should do was enough to keep my options open. Thinking back to last weekend’s long ‘un, I decided on a quick train journey to Alton, then a run home on the St Swithuns Way: no short cuts, no bail outs. I could get home with much of the day left, or tack some more miles on the end, depending on how I felt. I printed a map, prepared my waistpack and set out my clothes.

I awoke feeling ropey. Ablutions, clothes, breakfast, run to the train station, no turning back. From Alton station, map in hand, I pointed myself northeast, and followed residential roads to pick up the trail at Eggar School, which coincidentally hosted my first LDWA hundred mile walk in 2009. Another half mile of familiar track, then new ground, knowing that in a hour’s time I’d be recognising the trails once again, from the outrun of last weekend’s big loop.

The going was thankfully good, with an overnight frost and bright morning allowing steady progress. Rough, hard trails might be slow going, but a firm footing saves precious effort. Two steps forward, no steps back.

As the sun continued to rise, the wind dropped, and soon enough, I found myself covering old ground. The trail became hillier as I neared Farnham, and I faced my first choice, to either head north for home and bank thirteen miles, or open the box....

Private driveway to Wayne Manor

I turned south, towards Farnham station. I could link to the start of the North Downs way, and that little swerve alone should be worth another three miles. I ran on.

A mile later, I figured I could keep heading up this road, jump onto the footpath at Compton Way, and probably add another half mile, of good running. I ran on.

Soon after, and I was on trails that formed my regular loop, south of Farnham. Having been on my feet for over two and a half hours, I was already pushing the mileage, out of liquids, and with one big decision approaching. A left turn would head home, and a right turn would commit me to at least another hour of running, but a chance to hit 450 miles.

F#@K IT!  LET'S GO CRAZY!

My thirteen miler became a twenty five. I feel like I’m joyriding in someone else’s body.



Summary:
Today: 25.1 miles, 3:34 hrs, 3474 cals
January: 441.7 miles, 64:01 hrs, 59821 cals

Lord Wandsworth Loop

I look at maps with an inquisitive mind. As habits go, it’s probably not as infuriating for other people as leaving the lids off things, or playing music loudly on the train; but now and again, I might blurt out an oblique observation that’ll have my nearest and dearest rolling their eyes in despair.

However, I, like most people, take my immediate surrounding for granted. Not necessarily the landscape, or the features, but more the names that these places are given. Once you’ve spent your formative years in a particular part of the world, place names become part of a geographical vocabulary, and retain very little of their original meaning.

For example, there is an agreeable town nearby, surrounded by mixed heath, good transport links etc, but my wife (who’s not from round these parts) had no intention of living, or even going there. When asked why, she replied “It’s the name... ‘Deepcut’...  like a deep cut... that’s horrible”. She screwed up her face, and I conceded the point, I’d just never thought of it that way.

This is much easier done with the objectivity of a stranger: I’m sure a hill called Brown Willy isn’t particularly funny if you live in North Devon, and if Brooklyn Beckham’s baby sister were to be conceived in Surrey rather than New York, the people of Leatherhead would see no harm in Dave and Vicky continuing the naming tradition.

Pip leads the way

Today’s run was led by Javed, in the company of Fiona, and Pip the Labrador. We were initially joined by Andy and Huw again, on one of their pre-marathon long runs from further afield. Javed once again took us from his home, and over windy fields towards the villages of Crondall, Well and Bentley. Some fresh growth underfoot highlighted the mild January we’ve experienced in the South, but last night’s frost had set the ground rock hard in most places, and broken it into chocolate sponge cake in others. Javed and Fi were great company as always, and the running was so much easier than yesterday, it felt good to be out in the morning, in crisp air, and gently ticking off another thirteen miles.

This morning’s far point was the rolling farmland estate owned and run by Lord Wandsworth College. This location also planted the seed of this blog, but the link is tenuous. Wandsworth himself created this school to teach farming skills to orphaned boys. Yet, the name “Lord Wandsworth College” on its own might conjure up a host of preconceptions.

Some might automatically associate the name with the urban density of south west London, others may focus on the title within, and assume this is a private school, for privileged children (and it might well be). I, as a local, always remembered it as “the school that wouldn’t play rugby against ours”. I've since learned that the college has nurtured ruugby internationals like Jonny Wilkinson, so had this not been the case, I may instead think of it as “the school that used to batter us”.

A clearly wandering mind today – which feels good.


Summary:
Today: 13.2 miles, 2:03 hrs, 1830 cals
January: 416.6 miles, 60:26 hrs, 56347 cals

Just More

Two runs. Big target. Low motivation.

The first run was a work thing. Which sounds great, that I get to run around for work. And it is great, and I am grateful.... but it is work.

No matter how good the day, or the running, a line is drawn underneath that says "This is work, and you must run this way, and that way, you must stop and start, go backwards and forwards, take notes and pictures and carry many things". It's not like leaving your pens on the desk to disappear for a couple of hours.

The best bit about what I do is "running, jumping and climbing trees" (as Eddie Izzard would say) in lots of different places. The sharp edge of the sword is that these things are my hobbies, my passion, my release; and when you put work and play next to each other, play doesn't taste as good for a while.



The Mansfield Office



Today's worky run was to make sure a race route linked up, to think about where all the fun stuff can be placed, and consider how to waymark, and marshal it. For Janathon's sake, I resolved to run as much as possible, and tapped away at the start/stop button on my watch, to record my dashings, in between note-takings, and head-scratchings.

After a few hours spent on foot at various speeds, a clean shirt, a cup of tea, and I was ready for the journey home. Friday night, rush hour, heading towards the M25. Perfect.

When I used to do this on a regular basis, I would change into running gear at the office, and start driving. I'd then let the traffic decide where and when I would get my Friday night run. Tonight, I made good progress as far south as Northampton, when the brake lights ahead suggested I look for something nearby.

Five minutes later, I was parked in Blisworth village, within fifty yards of a bridge over the Grand Union Canal, and trying to muster some enthusiasm to go for another run, within just a few hours of the last.

Getting out of a warm car when it's minus one outside, and your legs still feel jangly and detached is not an easy task. Today's "work-running" had drained me, and I wanted to be home with my wife. Still, that traffic was going to keep me on the road til past nine anyway, and if I just got another six miles, I'll have cracked four hundred miles in four weeks. It still felt lousy.

I set off along the towpath, heading south. I should have gone the other way. Blisworth Tunnel doesn't have a towpath, so walkers are sent over the top, to get instantly lost among useless bridleway signs. I never found the other end. Instead I ran over deep hoof pockets in a wide loop, guided by the glow of Northampton, to return to my start point.

A stone's throw from the car, I checked my watch, and I was still a mile and a half short. Turning back onto the towpath, north this time, I decided to run a mile out, then back, to clear my target. In the time it took to run that mile, I'd already convinced myself that I would do a bit more, and tacked another mile onto the end, doubling up to eight and a half by the time I took my shoes off, and a million percent happier for it.

"Tacking a bit onto the end" has become a Janathon theme. If I were to add all those bits up, it might add up to a marathon. However, all of those extra bits together weren't as much of a struggle as leaving the car this evening for just six miles. I must remember this.

"Just" is hard. "More" is easy.



Summary:
Today: 16.2 miles, 2:26 hrs, 2055 cals
January: 403.4 miles, 58:23 hrs, 54517 cals

Sherwood Pinery





I'm in the Midlands. I checked. Looking at the map, there is England all over the place, plenty above and below, and a similar amount left and right.

Yet strangely (or so I've always thought), I'm officially in the East Midlands, but when I look at a map, I'm actually about five miles east of the middle. Doesn'tt that make this the Middle Midlands?

It's 150 miles from Chester to Skegness as the crow flies, so I reckon there should be about fifty miles of West Midlands (maybe Chester to Buxton), fifty miles of East Midlands (maybe Newton-on-Trent to Skegness), with roughly fifty miles of Actual Midlands in the middle?

I digress.





So I'm in this neck of the woods planning an adventure sports/trail running event for April. For the newest of the "Notorious Night Run" series, I've spent the day at the venue of the third in the trilogy, the "Legends of Sherwood".

Sherwood Pines is the bit of Sherwood Forest that the Foresty Commission own (for now). It's not got the "Sherwood Forest TM" stamp owned by the patch of woods which surrounds the Major Oak, but this area has proven connections to medieval England that are much less tenuous.

It's also got some great trails, and some really mixed forest - both of which will be key to my event. Where the Mighty Deerstalker has mountains and river crossings, and the Horseplay has horsejumps and a movie set, Legends of Sherwood has real darkness throughout, and some proper scary forest. And men in tights.

"Red. Difficult. Are these trails for you?"
Ohhh yes.

So after today's meetings, I snuck back into the forest to make the most of its mountain bikes trails on foot. I do this quite regularly, as my job can take me all over the country, and running mounatin bike routes at night is normally a pretty fun way to spend a couple of hours. The trails are well waymarked, well maintained, almost always bring you back to the start. You don't need to know the area, or even take a map (though a few emergency supplies are a smart idea)

I've ridden Sherwood Pines's "Kitchener Trail" Red route a few times, and have run nearly all the trails in the forest (including the deer paths and guerilla tracks) during my initial survey for the Legends event, but running it in one hit was superb. From my stealthy parking spot I gained swift access to the forest, and following the Red to the visitor centre, included a quick lap of the "Family Trail" Green route to make up the miles, before returning to the car on the Red.

My sole and welcome company in the forest tonight were hundreds of fallow deer. Not the reddy-brown-with-white-bits fallow deer you see in parks and calendars, but the mostly-grey-with-almost-black-sides fallow deer that you can't see unless you're travelling fast, deep in the woods. They might not look as pretty, but seeing the owners of forty pairs of shining eyes can look pretty amazing.


Summary:
Today: 13.6 miles, 1:52 hrs, 1906 cals
January: 387.2 miles, 55:57 hrs, 52462 cals

Station to station

An adventure racer friend of mine sent me a link to a DIY animation that takes the mickey out of ultra-runners, and Ironman tri-athletes. It was clearly created by someone with firsthand knowledge of ultra-runners, and the ability to identify the most entertaining (embarrassing) elements of their behaviour. I suspect it was written by my wife.

It included the notion that ultra-runners take futile rail journeys to the middle of nowhere, just to run back. Which made me laugh out loud, since this is obviously true, but I didn’t think many people (ie. except me) did this.

So tonight, I decided to do the opposite; donned road shoes and a vague sense of direction, and set off to run past five railway stations, using roadside pavements only, without catching any trains.

Two-and-a-bit miles to my first destination: Aldershot Station. Since I’ve run here twice already in Janathon, I opted for a slightly different route again, and while working out which way to go, I decided to spice things up by adding a couple of extra micro-challenges to tonight’s mission. I considered that I should complete the whole thing as a pure loop, containing no criss-crossing, overlapping, or doublebacking at all (even little ones). Oh yeah, and that I would have to cross the railway at each station. Simple huh?

On from Aldershot, north through the old military town, to pick up the mile and a half long Queens Avenue, over the Basingstoke Canal, into North Camp, over the bypass, and at five and bit miles, North Camp Station.

A strange little one this. Tucked away at the end of a string of lakes, and sitting at a lower level than the surrounding roads, it’s easily missed. It doesn’t run into London like most stations nearby, but instead is on a direct line to Gatwick Airport. Occasionally you can drive past and see po-faced ex-holidaymakers in shorts and sandals damply loading cases into wet cars.

South east for barely half a mile, and Ash Vale Station is ticked off the list. Equally hard to spot, Ash Vale sits almost thirty feet above road level, beside a bridge that carries the tracks over the B3411, it’s easier to spot the carpark, always overflowing with commuter vehicles.

Turning south, crossing back over the canal, over a small hill, and it's Ash Station, complete with level crossing. The reputation of this crossing for causing rush-hour mayhem reaches almost as far as the queues.

Maybe eight miles in and just the final station to clear. Back over the bypass, then through the suburbs of southern Aldershot, past my brother’s place, to brush past Weybourne (bizarrely pronounced Webbon) via Badshot Lea. And here’s where I realise the payback on my earlier decision. Passing momentarily within a mile of home, the limited choice of pavements between here, Farnham Station, and home again leaves me no option than to cross the tracks at the station, heading in the wrong direction, box round, then back into Farnham, and then up over the top of Folly Hill. Very good for Janathon mileage, not very good for the legs.

Well, the legs survived for another day, and another run. Tonight's route probably wasn't as engaging as some of the recent trail loops, or as satisfying as the occasional “train out, run back” that inspired it in the first place. But if was fairly fast going through the mid-section, and I can hold my head up in the company of normal runners as having done a normal run, and not some ultra-nonsense.

Providing, that is, they’re the kind of normal runners that go out on a Wednesday evening, run past a bunch of railway stations, making up the rules (and therefore the distance) as they go.

Summary:
Today: 16.6 miles, 2:06 hrs, 2317 cals
January: 373.6 miles, 54:04 hrs, 50556 cals

The Hole in the Wall

Winter wall

In spring 2009 I said farewell to the company car, the daily suit and tie, and the two hundred mile commute. I left behind working trips to the Middle East. I parted company with targets and bonuses and quarterly reviews.

I gained perspective, a certain amount of freedom, and a much greater desire to go to work each Monday morning. And... a bombproof little video camera, courtesy of a very generous whip-round from my ex-colleagues.

I’m not the most technically minded person. I'm practically a luddite, and to be honest, this is where I’m comfortable. I become happy with a level of technology, and stick with that. My laptop, Garmin, iPod, and this swanky little video camera must all despair of my limited abilities.

So in summer last year, I went running with the intention of shooting some video, and trying to make something watchable. I chose a reasonable out-and-back that took me from my front step, a few miles out, and a few miles back. I figured it had some aesthetically okay bits, and the turning point was a throwback to my youth that always made me smile.

 “The Wall” is a term some runners use, referring to a point in a marathon where the body only wants to stop. I’ve heard different mantras and mottos intended to get people through this psycho/physiological barricade. Strangely, it wasn’t until I was thinking of a name for this video that I saw the metaphor. It seems that in this case, they might be right: the Wall does indeed have a Hole in it.

 I’ve moved since I made this. The Hole in the Wall run is no longer an out-and-back from my front step. But since I wanted to share this video, this evening I composed a loop that would take me back there, and through it again.

Running solo tonight, armed with underutilised phone, overused headtorch, and the ubiquitous water bottle, I felt good, ran fast, and rounded the distance up to fifteen miles. The trails were soft, the rain was cooling, and the Hole in the Wall felt bigger than I remember. Perhaps it’s the knowledge that February is almost here.

Perhaps going through the Wall is like everything else; it gets easier with practice.

Summary:
Today: 15.2 miles, 1:57 hrs, 2126 cals
January: 357.0 miles, 51:58 hrs, 48239 cals