28th June: North Devon AONB Marathon

Just over a year ago whilst hobbling across the finish of the 2014 edition of the Endurancelife ‘Classic Quarter’ I made a promise to fellow hobblee Phil, with whom I finished, that I would enter this year’s North Devon AONB Marathon - which he was deferred in to and would be running should he be fit enough… So here I was lining-up in the rain and good to go this June Sunday morning a week after completing the South Downs Marathon.

The North Devon AONB Marathon is run in aid of the local North Devon Hospice hospice centring on Woolacombe and looping south to Croyde and north through Mortehoe and nearly touching on Ilfracombe.

Croyde is a place I’ve been meaning to visit in years. All the ‘Hook’ crowd that I have known since moving to the village some 17 years ago have been making the journey down to the seaside village every Easter for surf, beer and a party. They’ve been captivated by the quality of all three for plenty of time since they’ve been doing this now for over 20 years since some of them discovered surfing in their teens.

Following my normal plan I arrived in Woolacombe at midnight and kipped in the van ready for the early start and registration… In the pouring rain. Hardly the weather you expect for June, but hey, you take what your dealt in this card game.

Milling around under angry skies for the start.

Mercifully the rain decided to ease as I waited around for the start after registration and come the off we were away under grey skies of low cloud with a threat of more rain on the figure of 8 course with the convergence point of the loops the esplanade at Woolacombe, First up we were all haring-off on the southerly loop with a 15 minute head start on the half marathoners who would soon be chasing us down.

Surf central!

Following the coastal path we filed past the car parks for the day-trippers and on to the sand dunes, narrowing down to single file at times before climbing up on to the coastal path running parallel to the Woolacombe beach as it stretched on for a mile or so, with plenty of early morning surfers out even in the inclement weather.

Where's Bez with his maracas?

Reaching the end of the beach we rounded on to the headland of ‘Baggy Point’ (where I couldn’t help but think ’You’re twisting my melon man, you talk so hip man you’re twisting my melon man.’ as I passed the sign - showing my age here with a ‘baggy’ reference!), before sighting Croyde ahead and the famous beach beloved of my mates.

The end of the beach crossing at Croyde.

Descending in to the village we were led across the beach that was strewn with moon jellyfish at the high-water line, before climbing through the village up in to the hills that surround it to reach the furthest south part of the loop.

The helicopter approaches.

As we were up on the side of the hill overlooking the beach, an Air-Sea-Rescue Sea King helicopter flew past us pretty much at eye level whilst it was out on a training exercise.

From here we turned inland to run over an undulating stretch of farmland before rejoining the coastal path north of the village and returning from whence we came for the end of the first loop.

As we bottomed-out on this part of the loop us marathoners began to be caught and passed by the half marathoners, so it was tricky at times not to get caught trying to hunt-down the person in front of you who had just overtaken you when it was at the back of your mind that they could be paced faster for running just half the distance you were.

Back in to Woolacombe and we were funnelled left and right for marathon/ half marathon as we approached the finish line, with us marathoners having the benefits of an aid station just beyond it, where I paused for a couple of cups of drink.

The path ahead.

So far the course had been pretty easy, unchallenging really with a difficulty level of 2/5 at the most. The few hills encountered were short not too steep by comparison to most of the runs I have been on. With the weather continuing to be overcast with the occasional drizzle it had been perfect conditions for maintaining a decent tempo without suffering a great deal, so I climbed-up the hill out of Woolacombe to the north in a good time for me, joining the coastal path on the left just past a particularly picturesque hotel.

Well at least the sheep were amused.

Back on to the coastal path and some sheep that seemed to be laughing at me, I soon discovered why: This was a race of two halves. The first half had been a gentle jog, this was where the real running began. We had a 10k section of combined ‘haggis running’ around the side of hills, up and down other sharp steep inclines and plenty of rocks to contend with on the path as we skirted the headland past Mortehoe and Lee.

Pointy rocks beside the path.

The long and winding road.

Soon after starting on this beautiful yet stunning stage, in the space of a few minutes it seemed the cloud lifted, burnt-off and all of a sudden the sun was beating down upon us with terrific humidity through all the moisture left behind from the duff weather so far today… The suffering commenced now for me, the conditions just draining all my energy with the combination of the heat and hills.

Below us Ilfracombe.

Struggling onwards I finally made it up on to a ridge looking down upon Ilfracombe and the turn to the south for the final 10k leaving the coastal path behind. At least with what goes up must go down so I had a section of descent off the ridge, winding my way down on the country lanes until the shade of a turning off the tarmac into the Slade Reservoirs… and the delightful sign of ‘no shooting’, which makes you wonder what on earth the locals must be up to when they get bored!

Climbing up past the reservoirs I could really feel my hammy tightening and becoming increasingly uncomfortable, so I decided to take the time to give it some rest and massage some deep heat in to it as a restorative remedy ready for the final leg back to the finish. As I sat there tending to myself and munching on a breakfast bar I waved-on those runners who passed me asking if I was ok… This is something I love about trail marathons - the ‘competitors’, if you can call us that, ALWAYS look-out for each other first: offering shares of pain killers, deep heat and food to those they pass on the side of the trail who are looking the worse for wear. On these runs its more a sense of comradeship rather than competition when you are outside of those with the sharpened elbows fighting for a podium place. It certainly is the case that the first ‘law of the trail’ is look out for your fellow runners :)

Hamstring all larded with deep heat I was back in to action and up the short flight of steps from the last of the reservoirs. I found myself on the cycle path that the former railway bed has become that leads out of Ilfracombe, winding its way south across the county to Plymouth… and the dawning realisation I would be cycling along here in a matter of a few weeks on my coast-to-coast jaunt!

Three miles of a steady ascent on the cycle path over which I took it easy and I came to the point where the route turned off on to a path across some fields via the final aid station heading downhill towards the finish back at Woolacombe.

Crossing the line, there were cream teas in the marquee awaiting all of us finishers, which would have been rude not to partake in, and I lay in there eating and resting after the exertions of the second half of the run that had pretty-much wiped me out.

The event was well organised, signed and marshalled with one particularly good touch, especially on the second half of the run in the heat: buckets of small wet sponges with which to soak yourself and carry along with you should you desire. It certainly is a contrast in difficulty of the two halves of the race with the second being twice as hard as the first… And you hit the hard half after you have burnt plenty of energy on the fast-paced ‘easy’ initial loop. Chatting to some fellow marathon finishers who were in agreement with me; the organisers should mix it up by reversing the order of the loops each year, so the half marathon every second year is pretty fiendish rather than being a leisurely plod. At present those finishing the half will be thinking the full distance would be pretty straightforward if they have not set-foot on the northern loop, which would certainly bite them on the arse in the future should they wish to step-up on to the longer run. Apparently this is something that has been mentioned but the thinking is that having a half distance that difficult it would scare-off a lot of potential runners!

Will I be back?.. Maybe to make a weekend out of it with LSS & Spud, oh and there was no sign of Phil at all!

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

21st June: South Downs Marathon

After my failure to adhere to the 7P’s at the previous outing down in Flete I made sure I came in to the 10th edition of the South Downs marathon in a suitable condition for the run.

I had been out on a ‘streak’; undertaking a physical activity each day for over 2 weeks to ensure my fitness levels were back to where they should be, and thanks to all the running and cycling I had undertaken I was feeling decidedly fruity about the day’s race.

Neighbour Pini was also running in it having deferred from last year and heading down to the finish at Queen Elizabeth Country Park on the edge of the South Downs at sparrow’s fart in the morning, we were hoping for a fitting day for the event to celebrate its 10th birthday.

Slindon College pre-race with Pini either meditating or wondering whether to trust a fart that's brewing.

When I ran this two years ago it was my 9th marathon, with this latest outing becoming my 40th! Back then it was my first proper summer marathon and boy did I suffer in the heat and from the unrelenting nature of the course especially in the latter stages. As a consequence I felt I owed myself something so I was lining-up today determined to psychologically make amends.

All bussed to the start, registered and baggage checked-in at Slindon College we were left to mill around and kill time. Pini and I bagged a spot by the back of the retaining wall looking over the field to afford protection from any wind but this year with the skies overcast and the air still there was not really a problem with getting too cold. As we waited I bumped into Luke, whom I know as a regular from the CTS series and always seems to finish just in front of me in every race! Next to us by the wall was a Guildford-based runner called ‘Ry’ who knew a lot of the runners Pini does from the ‘Fitstuff’ running club there. Ry is more in to his ultras than mere marathons and from his patter I could tell he was a pretty fast guy playing-down his abilities, which could be interesting as no doubt he and Pini will be challenging at the front-end of the field.

Corralled together for the start.

Soon we were off under the clouded skies, the perfect running conditions especially with the morning not having warmed-up.

I fell in to my familiar trap of starting off faster than I should, but this time I did not seem to feel any fatigue along the way, especially as the first 4 miles are essentially an uphill slog on to the top of the Downs, in fact I was feeling really good in myself and made the conscious effort to push-on as hard as I could for as long as possible.

On the trails.

As a consequence I was less focussed on the surroundings around me than normal, which with the grey overcast nature of the day were not lending themselves really to any decent photography anyway, so I was guilty of just putting my head down and CHARGE! Although I did manage to have a conversation with a couple of ladies on the second stage, one of whom was running this as her first marathon having run part of it as a relay last year and the other has been running a fair few of them, including the Glencoe marathon last year that still remains my favourite one to date.

Looking back on fellow sufferers!

Reaching the final quarter of the race and the struggle of the previous running still on my mind I still found the last couple of hills - in particular one long slow drag along the country lanes a challenge, but safe in the knowledge that I had been running strongly it spurred me on to cross the line in as quick a time as I could muster: shaving a good 20 minutes off my previous time, taking me comfortably below the 5 hour mark and posting my 4th best marathon time to date!

One of the views from atop the Downs.

Pini on the other hand… Well, he was there at the finish to congratulate me and it turned out he had finished 5th overall and 3rd in category, and merited a podium, so a huge congratulations were deserved for him. I had been correct in my hunch about Ry, as he and Pini had indeed been running close to each other before Pini pulled away, leaving Ry to finish in a brilliant 10th place.

Pini deserving his well-earned rest!

Not a bad day all round!

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

7th June: Hartland

When I started-off on this running odyssey I was working fitting kitchens for a nationwide supplier with my good friend and fellow Hook resident Si. He was bemused to say the least upon seeing the state I would be in on a Monday after one of these long runs and wondered why anyone would put themselves through such a thing that leaves them unable to walk properly till the Thursday afterwards.

Anyway, Si and his wife have decided to leave the village in which both of them have lived all their lives and start a new life elsewhere with their young family - mostly because Hook as it has developed and changed over the last 40 years is no longer offers to children what it did when they were growing up: a compact semi-rural place for kids to explore and roam free… Something Si and his wife want for their kids.

Having sold-up they have bought themselves a place on the Hartland Peninsula in North Devon - a stones-throw from the Cornish border in a tiny hamlet that barely merits a mention on the map, let alone a signpost, where the other few houses all seem to be owned by the same family and linked to the next door dairy farm.

Their 18th century farmhouse is for them to use as the family and the grand plan for the 10 acres of field that comes with it (and its ramshackle collection of barns and outbuildings in various stages of dilapidation) is to turn it in to a campsite to provide an income long in to retirement age and a business for the children to take over and run when the time is right.

From the front of the house you can see the sea off on the horizon and the south west coastal path runs less than a mile away as the crow flies… Ideal running for someone like me and part of the coastal path I have yet to explore.

This week in the van I carted a load of ‘stuff’ left behind in Hook to Si’s new homestead and set about exploring the area on 2 feet with a decent run.

I had planned in advance a half marathon route, downloaded it on to my Garmin to follow, then promptly left my Garmin at home. The good thing with having planned the route in advance is I had a good memory and idea of where I should be going so undeterred by having no electronic way-finding (there is only an intermittent mobile signal there - forget about mobile data!) I set out on the run from memory.

Emerging from the avenues to see the sea.

Getting closer!

The first leg took me south then west from the farm through the sharp hills of the country lanes, mercifully most of them being lined with trees and their and enclosing you with a protection from the blazing sun, and deposited me at the nearest ‘beach’ at Welcombe Mouth.

The beach at Welcombe Mouth

From here it was a steep climb up on to the coastal path and the northerly heading along it savouring the sights as the cliff disappears off next to you some 200+ feet to the rocks below.

The climb on to the coastal path.

Meandering my way along I had to contend with what passes for a traffic-jam in this part of Devon:

The majestic cliffs stretched on for the next 5 miles or so, with one bench I passed bearing a plaque commemorating a shipwreck - the bench being constructed of salvaged timber from it.

The bench.

The plaque.

Eventually the cliffs lowered a little and I found myself at a stream which tumbled over the cliff’s edge as a waterfall. Just before the fall the stream formed a pool that was deep enough for you to sit-in akin to a natural ’hot-tub’, albeit without the heat but with a cracking view over its lip out along the cliff to the sea as the fresh cold water tumbled down, with this all being enjoyed by a bunch of bewetsuited coasteerers.

The 'tub' at the top of the waterfall.

The fall in its full glory.

Shortly beyond this is the Hartland Quay hotel and museum where through the car park lay another big climb back to the cliff top path once more and the final coastal section that ended just past an idyllic cottage with a small waterfall in a tumbling stream just before it.

The cottage marking the turn inland.

Climbing back on to the cliff top rather than continuing along the coastal path it was a trip inland over farmland before hitting the country lanes and the journey south back to the farm. Travelling over these deserted seldom driven lanes, through one village whose church spire was a beacon visible from afar, to the occasional hamlet the roads were a section of one hill after the other, mercifully some of them avenued as the ones I had run earlier which gave respite from the beating sun.

The start of the return leg.

At the bottom of one of these avenue hills I ran past Hartland Abbey, which way back in time was the manor house and seat of power in this peninsula, the owners owning most of the land and controlling local commerce, including Si’s new homestead.

A glimpse of Hartland Abbey.

Through a village and up and down the hilly lanes bisecting farmland this last leg made me appreciate how remote this spot of the country is; not a car was seen and the only sound other than the birds was the occasional distant sound of a tractor and a couple of fast jets from the RAF screeching across the sky.

I was accompanied on the run in part by the album by the underrated and almost entirely ignored at the time of release 'Delaware' by the Drop Nineteens on the iPod - it was great to listen to an album straight through for a change rather than just hearing alternating tracks on shuffle.

The album cover

Back to Si's in a time that was longer than I had anticipated through the challenging nature of the terrain on the coastal path plus the hills getting to and from it, although sitting down in the shade with a lovely ice cold cider to cool-off before the drive home was very welcome... I thoroughly enjoyed my time exploring the area on two feet, a place I would probably never have visited if it were not for Si moving down there.

The location is absolutely stunning and the run was not too difficult but provides a good challenge, with the circuit easily breaking-down in to different sections so you are not on one type of terrain continuously. From speaking with Si and his wife we have some plans for this area, so watch this space, although not for a couple of years!



Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

23rd May: Endurancelife Coastal Trail Series - Flete

The Seven P’s of wisdom are a long held belief in certain circles:

‘Perfect Planning & Preparation Prevents Piss-Poor Performance’

Coming in to today’s Endurancelife CTS Flete Marathon I was pretty sure I was lacking on the first 3 which would result in the latter 3!.. Aside from galavanting around my village dressed as an ostrich last weekend, I’ve done pretty much diddly-squat in the way of running since the Pendine ultra a good 7 weeks ago through my trapped nerve, working late and my va-va-voom in general va-vamoosing when it came to going out running or cycling. Nonetheless I braved the traffic (jams on the A303 at almost midnight believe it or not) and traipsed on down to the Flete estate accompanied by Pop Will Eat Itself’s ‘Wise Up Suckers’ for a day spent on the normally closed-to-the-public trails between Mothecombe and Bigbury-on-Sea.

This event runs on the timetable of the tides with the crossing of the estuary a part of all the different courses: the 10k, 1/2 Marathon, full marathon and ultra. To fit in with the way mother nature was running, the start to today’s run was going to be much later than normal with the marathon commencing at 11 in the morning, a time when we are normally about halfway through!

Stupidly when packing I had paid dutiful attention to the area's weather forecast which said a maximum of 13 degrees celsius and overcast throughout the day, so upon awaking by the race-base I found it to be beautiful sunshine with a lovely late spring warmth to the day already and my sunscreen left at home! At least I had my ‘Il Pirata’ hat to cover my thinning barnet and prevent the worst excesses of the sun from affecting me.

With the later start to proceedings today the pressure for time was off, so I was able to grab a snooze in the back of the van after a spot of brekkie whilst I awaited the registration to open and the briefings to be held.

Parked next to me was a people-carrier with a couple of runners who between them must have the highest mileage to get to the start of one of these CTS races: they may have only driven down from London for today’s run, but they hail from California and Sydney!

Being briefed.

We had the briefing under the blue sunlit sky in the field where as part of it we were given the customary kit warning. On the CTS races you are expected to carry certain items with you for ‘in case of emergencies’, essentially to help to safeguard yourself should something unfortunate happen to you. Last year I was pulled for a random inspection upon finishing here, so this year I made doubly sure that I had everything with me, including a jacket - even though it was obvious that it would not be needed today! In the briefing I found today’s course was differing from both previous times I have run it… Like two years ago we would be running the western side of the course before hitting the east, only this time we would be circling the eastern side in an anti-clockwise direction.

Crossing the beach before the hills start in earnest.

All gathered together we were sent on our merry way down the hill a half mile before climbing up on to the coastal path - where the humidity hit me. In no time I was sweating like Michael Jackson on Sesame Street, although as we headed inland it did seem to ease-off a little bit.

The view from the cliff-top path.

On this inland stretch I was caught by Rory Coleman who was pacing one of his client’s around his first marathon, the culmination of one of Rory's bespoke tailored training programmes, so I took the chance to have a chat with him.

Being caught by 'Coach Coleman'.

Rory is one of the premier endurance running coaches in the country (he would probably say the world as well, and there’s no doubt he can claim to be right up there!) when it comes to getting people prepared and through endurance events. This is based largely on his personal experience of having gone from an overweight chain-smoking booze-hound to achieving what most of us mortals would only dream of doing when it comes to running distances and setting records… He knows what works and what doesn’t through his experience and is able to push people to achieve what they want to by knowing truly what is feasible. I thought I would take the advantage of asking him about his experiences and what it was like for one of his most recent challenges: Helping Sir Ranulph Feinnes finish this year’s Marathon des Sables.

Looking back from whence we came.

It was interesting to hear his take on what separates the likes of Ranulph Fiennes and James Cracknell from the rest of us mortals. According to Rory, the difference between them and us is they have no off button. To them there is no such thing as failure; it simply is not an option. In fact, they have wired their brains in a certain way to believe that even death is preferable to failure. As such they have developed a mental ability to go further, push harder, travel beyond what would normally be thought as achievable. The flip-side is that this makes them inherently dangerous to themselves and others in the wrong situation as they will not stop and can lead others astray with them, especially those who are perhaps not as physically able to absorb the punishment that they can take through the years they have put their bodies through the mincer!

Leaving behind Rory and his client I was relieved to hit the first checkpoint as I knew this next part was going to be the easiest part of the course, heading up and round the Erme estuary.

Running on the trail above the estuary, surrounded by bluebells and wild garlic in bloom, with one breath you could really smell the garlic aroma stirred on the gentle breeze and then with the next breath your nostrils were assailed by the stench of rotting seaweed! Having said that, from this elevated position of the run I was able to watch as a pair of Avocets flew past - a bird I have never before seen in the wild.

The mudflats of the estuary below.

Through CP2 and we were running along the other side of the estuary in the cool shade of the woodland path. The race organisers, Endurancelife, encourage us all to pick at least one piece of litter on the run and by the side of the path I saw what I thought was a police hi-viz vest at first glance, but turned out to be one of these fellas! so I appropriated this as my piece.

Out of the cool woodland we were back on to the coastal path, where we were to continue around in the opposite direction to 2013 and do the hard work of the hills first. In the heat of the midday sun my running mojo well and truly deserted me and I found each and every one of these energy sapping climbs a major chore.

Approaching a still distant Bigbury,

On one of the particularly steep ones I decided to stop for a break for a breakfast bar and slurp down a gel. Looking back at where I had come from I was able to watch in amusement as a fellow runner attempted to bum-slide down the particularly steep slope, only to give up and slowly shuffle her way down towards me… Soon I was joined by Viv as she began the ascent of the next hill on which I was resting and from the look on her face she was really suffering. Naturally I offered her a gel to try and help her through this ascent, which she could see was a good idea.. And as Viv joined me in taking a breather here we were caught by another runner, Waldemar.

The tiny spec of red near the top is Viv as she makes her way down the hillside.

As Waldemar approached, through gasps of breath in his strong Polish accent, he laughed at my (‘Eat Pies’) shirt and asked me what ‘pies’ are. I explained to him exactly what a pie is, and he laughed again before replying: ‘In Poland 'pies', pronounced ‘pee-ez’ is dog, your shirt tells me to ‘eat dog’… Are you sponsored by a chinese restaurant?’ and carrying on chucking away he was off.

Soon recovered Viv and myself resumed the advance along the course and she soon left me in her wake over the remaining 3 hills we had left to conquer before the next aid-station at Bigbury. Coming out of the aid station we had a jog across the beach which was fairly packed with holidaymakers enjoying a day in the sun. With our path so close to the water it seemed a good opportunity to cool-off and I knelt in it, planting my hands in to lower the temperature of my blood.

It seemed rude not to take the opportunity to cool-off here!

As I was doing so, Viv passed me, having previously beem overtaken by me going through the the aid station, and we continued together for what turned out to be the rest of the run as moral support.

Heading upwards and inland.

The trail meandered across country lanes, fields and woodland as we headed upwards and inland continuing the loop back to the Erme estuary - bumping into Viv’s husband on the way and very kindly giving me a bottle of wonderfully chilled water and some pain killers to tide me over the last few miles until we reached the river bank and the crossing of the ankle-deep body of water. After a good splash through to the other side, all that remained was the last killer mile and a half of uphill slog to the finish where we crossed the line together.

Viv reluctantly splashing her way across the Erme.

Finishing near the back of the pack, most of the runners had already packed and left as I picked-up my finishers medal and complementary Cliff bar. This year I was not checked for kit, not that it would have mattered with carrying all the requisite items with me, and I was soon able to crash-out in the shade by the van and recover with my scotch eggs and protein shake. Yes I was slightly disappointed with my slow time, although not entirely surprised by it but also relieved to have dragged my arse to the finish line. Note to self: get said arse out and do something in between the races that might constitute some form of training to help prepare yourself for these runs, especially as the 7P’s are known to be true!

Oh well… Hindsight is always 20/20

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

17th May: Hook Fun Run

Today saw the annual village fun-run once more here in Hook with a record 1200 entrants participating over the 3 distances: 2.5 miles, 6 miles and 10 miles.

I had arranged to run the 2.5 mile course again with my eldest daughter, although I had warned her in advance that I would once more be donning the ostrich costume to run with her.

In September she goes off to ‘big school’ so I figured that this will be my only chance to run in costume with her as from next year she would be way too embarrassed to be seen anywhere near me dressed like that.

We wandered off to the start to arrive in plenty of time and to cheer-off the other runners. It seemed we were walking kind of together with me a few steps ahead of my daughter who was already questioning my sartorial choice and regretting the fact she was with me in that get-up.

Posing for the organiser's photo.

After saying hello to a few people I recognised I was collared by one of the organisers to get a photo of me in the costume and my daughter was asked to pose with me - which she declined (oh dear, I thought, she may not be in a good mood now).

Off go the 10 milers, with neighbour Pini in centre shot.

The start of the 6 mile race.

After seeing the herd gallop away in the 6 and 10 mile races we made our way to the starting corral and awaited the off under the sunny skies, my daughter now looking even less amused and even attempting to lose herself in the crowd rather than being seen dead with me.

An ostrich eye view of an unimpressed daughter.

After the obligatory countdown we were off and running. Starting near the back it was difficult to try and pick our way through the crowds of people over the first quarter of a mile, but as the masses began to thin out we were soon able to find a rhythm at the pace of my daughter.

Circling the village we were cheered and clapped-on as a group by most of the residents who had taken their time to line the streets and encourage us. In the calendar of the village there are two events that gets everyone out and about: the ‘Christmas Cracker’ - our village winter festival street-party, and this here fun-run with the enthusiasm not failing to disappoint once more.

Weather wise the last month has not lived up to expectations, being fairly chilly and a dearth of sunshine so far but today was the first day with proper heat and gorgeous sunshine. This was catching-out plenty of people as most participants had not been able to acclimatise to running in the sun once more, so there were plenty of thirsty sorts when we got to the water station at half way. My daughter had already mentioned about pouring cold water over her head when she got there to cool down, which she did so and as we ran off I duly obliged by pouring some more over her head, which caught her by surprise and sped her up whilst she had a go at me for surprising her like that!

It seemed like no time at all before we had finished our loop of the village and were returning to the start/ finish in the junior school. As we rounded the corner to sight the finish line my daughter did her usual trick of sprinting for it… Running nearly at full-pelt to catch her, we both made it across at the same time, overtaking ‘Where’s Wally’ in the process which would have made someone a good photo!

Cooling-down after the race.

Hanging around after the race I waited for the first of the runners in the 6 and 10 mile races to finish, with my neighbour Pini finishing in 6th position in the 10 mile race recording a personal best for the course.

Some fellow finishers

I was also able to see some of the other costumed runners finish the races, with a man in full gorilla suit including the mask, a Gruffalo, the Flash and Iron Man crossing the line… Its good when people don’t take things too seriously, especially the 2.5 mile race as it is a ‘fun run’ after all.

Post-race posing with Pini.

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

10th May: Shakedown

When I returned from my MTB session the other week I took the deliberate step of removing the pedals from my bike to avoid the temptation of getting on it again, with it now only fit for condemnation.I had a look at getting a new MTB, but the cost for what I was looking for would be at least £800, which is a lot of money for something that doesn't get used a great deal... So I had a look at what I already have and took a view.
 
The frame of the bike itself is sound, as too is the bottom-bracket - which is not that surprising as it has not done a huge mileage. The wheels are also relatively new having been bought a few years back when my previous rear wheel died.
 
When I bought the current wheels I made sure they were capable of taking rotors for disc brakes, which was certainly a wise move, and looking at the frame and the existing (and pretty knackered) shock forks, they had mounting points for disc brakes, so a decision was made: re-using the frame and wheels I would build a new bike around them.
 
Over the last couple of weeks the constituent parts have all arrived, and winning on eBay a set of Rock Shox 'Reba Team Dual' air forks I have a pretty good pair to mount on the bike.
 
So for the first time I have disc brakes (hydraulic), which meant I needed to get new gear shifters as the previous ones were units that combined brakes and shifters. The new brakes, levers and shifters were added with ease and minimal fuss, along with a new flat bar, stem, headset, crankset, crank arm, crank bolts (Alan key ones), and the forks.
 
So the only parts carried over from the previous iteration are the frame, wheels, hand grips, rear dérailleur and bar ends... So what is essentially a new bike with regards to the running gear (and stopping gear) has cost me in the region of £200 and a couple of hours of work to put it all together.
 
Chuffed with the new iteration of the bike, I roped Walshy in to accompanying me to Swinley on his MTB for a shakedown test.
 
Walshy is coming-off an injury when he came a cropper on black ice whilst cycling home from work back in Feb, so he was up for a roll of the blue and red routes as it would not be a flat-out throwing around of the bike and help judge if his body was ok.
 
Setting-out things seemed relatively fine on the new MTB, the shock forks responding beautifully to the terrain and the handlebar mounted 'pop-lock' being a great thing to have (it locks the forks so stiffens them if you are riding over fairly flat terrain) and the brakes were effective and responsive to the touch of the levers, something I have not been used to for a long time!
 
The only downer was the fact the rear gears were not shifting well, with the dérailleur refusing to shift downwards most of the time when it made its way on to the largest of the rear rings (it getting on to that ring when steep climbing was needed). I even stopped a couple of times to try and fine-tune the adjustment to improve things... I was just about coping when we managed to reach about halfway through the route, when the dérailleur somehow caught the wheel, bent, twisted round and sheared-off entirely.

The jockey-wheel holder.

The derailleur hanger... It was straight before.

The derailleur - you can see the sheared-off bolt.

I was left with no choice but to try and turn the bike into a single speed to limp back to the car park, but even that did not happen as the chain kept jumping down and off, so I had to push and freewheel all the way back to the start from - it would be - the furthest away part of the course.
 
At least with curtailing the ride Walshy did not put his back out or anything else, so by means of an apology I shouted him a sausage in a roll and a cuppa tea at the cafe before the drive home.
 
Sod's bloody law, the only part of the drivetrain I did not replace is the bit that failed, taking the hanger with it as well... As soon as I was through the door I was back on eBay to spank another £20 and the parts were on their way to me as I await attempt #2 at getting the effing thing to work correctly!
 
Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.