Running in a time of Covid (with apologies to Gabriel García Márquez).

This tumult, this wave, this tsunami that has swept the world certainly hit us blindside. The what’s the how’s, the why’s and the wherefores of what we are currently experiencing will be argued and debated for decades along with the responses of those who are appointed by us to protect us all, but I’m not here to juggle that hot potato; I just want to sketch-out what its been like as a keen runner and what I’ve seen around me… And to mitigate against the tedium of the voluminous text there’s plenty of trail-porn punctuation from round my way to make this easier on the eye!

Nature abhorring a vacuum.

Like many I blundered blindly into the light of 2020 with clear vision of what was to come: a calendar that was largely planned, races scattered liberally throughout the year where everything kicked-on as normal for the first two and a bit months, before things went somewhat awry!

Waning sun through King John's Castle.

The racing calendar has been wiped-out wholesale. As the weeks progressed from late February races long and short fell by the wayside. Spring events now rescheduled to the autumn. With all the races scrambling for available dates, the smaller events waited for the behemoths like London & Paris to commit to one before they did and potentially lose runners to a date clash. Summer events just deferred till 2021. The autumn races for the most part are still tentatively on, but now in a very crowded schedule that has found their dates squatted on by the rearranged spring events which will likely impact the pool of potential runners who now find themselves committed to running elsewhere. Even these races though are all very much subject to change.

Hand grenade flower art in a pillbox @ Dipley Mill

My main aim this year was building to a 3rd time lucky attempt at the Lakeland 100 and I had planned my calendar accordingly: building distance in races as the months progressed with frequent road trips in between them, specifically for hill work, to the Jurassic Coast and the Brecon Beacons. All of this though fell immediately to the wayside when the plague came knocking on our doors and we were locked-down to our immediate area… Something that could have been far, far worse as those living in France, Spain and other countries who have been literally ‘confined to barracks’ can testify to as they gazed enviously at us as whilst we ventured out for a notional hour of exercise a day.

A soggy Spud on the dry spud field.

Across the country the racing rug has been pulled out from under all of us runners and we have all had to adapt accordingly. Whilst I’ve seen how others have coped across Britain through the ubiquitous power of social media, the easiest way to look at this is to start in my immediate surroundings and the running club I’m a member of, Hook Runners.

Bimble through the bluebells.

The club, in line with England Athletics’ decree, cancelled all activities at the beginning of the outbreak. Organised coached sessions are normally on offer Monday through to Thursday with group runs on a Sunday morning, but all these vamoosed in an instant. This sudden gaping hole in their running week left members scratching their heads and getting antsy with withdrawal symptoms as they no longer had their regular training fix.

Dusky ford.

In a positively reactive way to this change, the coaching team compiled a training plan for members to be able to follow at their leisure, something that was especially welcome for many who after the lockdown now found themselves with the notional hour of daily exercise to play with and a training session that could be completed in this time providing a perfect pairing.

One of the Commonwealth War Graves @ Eversley Church.

People who would normally be out running together still went out running at their habitual times and began to post pictures of their runs on the club’s Facebook page, in effect running virtually together, the pictures creating a wave of positivity to try and keep everyone’s spirits up.

Former reservoir on Bramshill.

One member devised a whole bingo card challenge where people could go and tick-off 21 different activities (not all running) over the initial three week period the lockdown was scheduled for. Pictures of random gates in the countryside were posted with people being asked to locate and post their own photo when they located them… Then the coaches devised their own challenge:

Lockdown rush-hour: 7pm at night on the M3!

Based on the assorted bag of marathons and half marathons that most people were working towards, the coaches challenged people to run their chosen distance as fast as they could in a time they predicted… The difference in this challenge was the cumulative race distance was made-up of 5 set chunks of varying lengths to total the target distance. With it all to be run for fun, the only real caveat was you were supposed to start close to your home and not to be traveling to a point where you could purposely run a negative descent route to fudge a better time!

The mill @ Poland Lane.

Anyway, with all of this going on the club’s Facebook feed soon filled with a plethora of positive pictures of sights, livestock and wildlife spotted by runners along the way and plenty of sweaty selfies. It was almost as thought things were continuing as normal, except everyone was always solo rather than in groups.

Nesting swan on the Lyde river.

The club’s marathon and half marathon challenge segues well into a race that is local to us. Each summer brings the Hampshire Hoppit, a trail marathon and half marathon that is extremely popular with our club members - we had 25 members racing it last year and before lockdown I was already working with a trio of padawans helping them get ready to complete the marathon distance for their first time, the three of them only having completed couch to 5k courses a couple of years back!

Bluebell carpet.

With the postponement of the race proper for a year, the race organisers have decided to keep everyone focused in what would have been for many an intensive training time for their event by also holding it virtually.

Be afraid, be VERY afraid!

We have seen event organisers who hold race series keep their devoted running customers engaged by holding running challenges, for example Endurancelife organised a 7x challenge where you were to run for an hour a day for seven days at whatever pace you manage with all successful completers entered into a prize draw, with other organisers such as Trail Outlaws & Centurion Running organising their own challenges based around distances over certain days etc.

The entrance to the fairy grotto that appeared on Bartley Heath.

All of these clubs and race organisers have found themselves acting as a gel holding runners together as a community through their respective FB groups, helping runners realise that whilst they may be training for events that are no longer on, their experience is a shared one throughout and a focus can be given to their efforts, even if just keeping their fitness ticking over for the time being.

Spud's not sure about the railway tunnel!

Running can be both a fiercely independent or a wonderfully social experience. We are all now getting plenty of experience of the former and those lone wolves among us are positively thriving, as they always will, especially with the potential extra lockdown time for their running, however the latter is in seriously scant supply for those who crave and flourish in this way of running. This enforced solitude for sociable types can have an huge negative effect on their mental wellbeing, potentially causing a massive downward spiral into a very dark place for some as they are cut-off from the thing that gives them succour under the current ‘new normal’. This is where for all its well documented faults we have seen how the power of social media has been unleashed as a phenomenally positive force in keeping everyone’s chins up whilst running in this time of Covid.

Swanning about on the Whitewater.

What we’ve seen is these groups crammed full of people supporting each other, mostly through showing images of where they are running - with or without their sweaty mug gurning into their phone camera. One group, the #Run1000Miles group on Facebook (of which I’m a member), is no exception. Every day there’s a veritable smorgasbord of the sights seen by people out running. The vast majority are not in noted beauty spots, just ordinary people hitting the streets and trails around their homes all over Britain and elsewhere and sharing what they are seeing, thinking and feeling with the like of mind.

Deer.

Over this period of lockdown, the trails (as well as the country lanes) have been heaving with people out and about exploring. I’ve come across people on the more obscure local nettle strewn trails wandering around with small packs on their back with printed maps in hand to guide them. This has been a positive in people are now realising what they have on their doorstep, however it has come at a cost. Nearby is a canal and the tow path has become so busy to be almost processional and impossible to obey social distancing through it being hoaching with cyclists, walkers and runners. It got so bad at one point that there was a punch-up over a perceived lacking of adherence to social distancing with the police becoming involved, so the body that runs the canal has politely requested that all runners and cyclists stay away!

Cowslips.

Another negative thing we have seen over this strange time, something general rather than specific such as the incident above, has been the rise of the phenomenon of the ‘Strava wanker’. This has touched all forms of running, from the Chelsea and England footballer Ross Berkley being called-out for it, to just someone who appears to be your average plodder being busted by some very questionable run stats.

Spud staring at Tylney Hall from on top of its air raid shelter.

Being a ‘Strava wanker’ involves posting a falsely impressive time for a run. This usually involves the recorded distance being run over several bursts, or intervals, at maximum speed with breaks in between. This is possible on Strava as for every activity it gives you 2 different times: the time to travel the distance and the total elapsed time. For example, Ross Berkley ran a 5k in the immensely impressive time of 16:11, however the time between starting the run and hitting the 5k mark was a very unimpressive 1:05:23! Naturally he crowed about his 16:11 5k but was rapidly and rightly called-out as having actually run a laughably slow 1:05:23 5k… This has shed light on a lot of people out there who are not professional sports stars, are doing exactly the same: run flat-out until you can no longer sustain the pace, pause your Garmin, have a breather, then go for the next leg: rinse and repeat till you finish. All those busted for this behaviour are referred to as ‘Strava wankers’. Another favoured tactic of the them is to run the total distance or even worse, intervals, all downhill! Under lockdown it seems to be becoming a pervasive thing and not in an ironic way. It has even found its way into my running club’s marathon & half marathon challenge times when you examine some of those posted by members!

LS of LSS.

Ok, so that's my take on what's been happening with folks out there running this Covid spring, here’s what I’ve been up to since the storm blew in:

From watching the news I could see what was about to go down based on what had happened elsewhere in Europe, however I could not be sure of how far things would go with a lockdown, so on the Sunday before BoJo's big pronouncement, I made sure I won on eBay a step machine that was up for grabs a mere 20 miles from home (and it was won for less than the limit I had set so double bonus). We already have a dreadmill in the garage and an exercise bike in the bedroom (clothes hanger?) so if we were all to be confined to barracks indefinitely, then we were all set as we would have a variety of activities to keep up with training activities.

Spud was less than impressed with the plastic sheep!

Still being a pie and a pint short of a fat bastard coming into all this, I resolved to be more active over the duration of the lockdown in the hope of forming a good habit to continue once out of the other side. I took a long hard look at myself and how I could possibly get my fitness to the level required for the Lakeland 100 (which at that point was still on) within the restriction imposed upon me of my immediate location. I resolved to attempt doing a physical activity for at least an hour a day for the duration, even though I was not being given the bonus home time to help in this that those on furlough or those working from home have. Rather than throwing myself into running 7 days a week, to break it up I notionally decided to cycle on Monday, Wednesday and Friday with runs on Tuesday, Thursday and the weekends. I say notionally as the schedule was not intended to be rigid so it would allow me to switch-out activities for other days if the weather was inclement and throw in time on the stepper as a substitute should I be out working too late.

The black sheep of the families.

Hitting the trail and the country lanes I also resolved to keep doing something different each time and not be a slave to the same routes and have the malaise of repetition set in and dull the fun, keeping my mind stimulated and interested and not switching into autopilot mode!

Not all glamour: 54 steps up from the motorway underpass.

I also set a distance challenge to ensure I wasn’t losing-out on long runs with all those cancelled races. The first full month of the lockdown, April, saw me run a marathon on local trails, May had me out running a 50k (which only shared about 100m of the same trail as my marathon), both accompanied by my running buddy Spud - as are most of my runs! June sees me combining the Hampshire Hoppit virtual full and half marathons for a 40 mile run and to round things off in July I’m looking to do either a 50 mile or double marathon… What happens after then I don’t know, however at least I should be in a decent shape when racing resumes once more in the autumn or winter.

King John's Castle @ North Warnborough.

At present I’m suffering from a bit of a hamstring twang, the first muscular injury I’ve had for a few years, so I’m unable to run for the rest of this week at the very least. Aside from this leg knack I have seen an immediate benefit of my increase in activity level. So far I’ve dropped half a stone in weight since everything went Pete Tong and my cycling miles are finally catching up with where they should be. At the start of the year I set a goal of cycling as far as I would be running - a target of 2020k and was hoping to hit it rather than spectacularly miss as I have the last few years. However by March I had only managed a paltry 40 miles on the bike, mostly to get Friday night takeaways! A few weeks on since the start and I’m now over the 400 mile mark so looking good to be back on track within a couple of weeks… Cycling wise I’ve also decided to cycle a 50 mile and an audax over the summer months as its been a few years since I did any serious distance on two wheels!

Dappled sunshine.

Like most, I’m pining for different surroundings in which to run and the ability to take a deep breath of sea air on a coastal trail and a bracing lungful from on a mountain top. However these sights have been there for millions of years and they will still be waiting for me when the lockdown ends, hopefully seeming all that bit sweeter when I can finally experience them once more. In the meantime I’m just making the most of acquainting and re-acquainting myself with the local trails and sights and enjoying what I’m lucky enough to have on my doorstep - whereas others are not so fortunate: stuck in flats in city centres unable to escape to the countryside and where every green space is choc full of other people... And at present with the curse of Covid, hell is literally other people.

I hope all of you who’ve taken the time to read these musings cope admirably with your unique personal experience of these strange times in which we currently live.

 
Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far (whilst socially distanced).

29th Feb: Winter Fan y Bagging

Let’s face it, the weather of late has been foul, properly foul to the point that a LOT of us have been struggling in a rut of motivation and ennui to get out AGAIN in the relentless rain and hippopotami mud. How can you get out of the rut? Well we came up with an answer of sort: ROAD TRIP!

Let's go to work!

A handful of us ‘Hookers’ bundled in to a couple of cars and headed off for the 2 hours it takes for some alternate sights, a different challenge and determined that we would embrace the weather, whatever it was, rather than hide under the duvet once more.

Back in January Andy had suggested a winter version of the Brecon run he and Graham have previously organised where we would drive to the foot of Pen y Fan and run the ‘horseshoe’ or thereabouts. Looking at the diary he found a date not clashing with anything and invited all who wanted to come.

Looking back down to the car park.

Since settling on the date and now, every week seems to have brought a new named winter storm of varying degrees of severity in wind and rain and this week was no exception to this rule. We were well aware of the forecast of an incoming storm, Jorge this time, so for the last few days leading-up to the expedition we had paid particular attention to the local forecast with safety paramount and the whole trip was in the balance until lunchtime the day before when it became apparent we would have a big enough weather window in the morning till early afternoon to get around. Even then the forecast was for very strong winds with gale-force gusts and snow beyond 400m elevation: the starting height of the run!

Gathered in the cold rain of the pre-dawn morning air at 6am outside the village community centre, we drove through the beginning of the storm with its torrential rain to park in the deserted car park at the foot of Pen y Fan. As prep we wrapped-up well with the air temperature here at 2º and unlikely to warm-up, that being with us out of the wind!

Setting out onto the walkers path from the car park the climb began in earnest from these first steps. Within 10 minutes the temperature had plunged as we cleared the tree line then crossed the limit where water becomes ice. My right calf was already giving me grief from the strain I picked-up a few weeks back and I was beginning to drift off the group of the others.

The calf wasn’t the only thing concerning me. Already I couldn’t feel the last 2 fingers on both hands with the extreme cold in the wind, so as I trudged I rummaged in my pack for my second pair of gloves and put them on. Slowly the sensation of feeling began to return to them over the next 10 minutes.

As we ascended, the more the weather closed-in on us, reaching the first peak of the day at Corn Du we were being properly buffeted by gusts of wind approaching gale force. Balance was at a premium with how icy everything was underfoot. Having good grippy trail shoes for running over mud and snow are absolutely useless for traction over icy rock, so scrambling up this small section of rocky outcrop to the plateau as large flakes of snow whipped past you was tricky.

When we hit the cairn at the top we were having the snow driven towards us horizontally in near blizzard conditions and a decision on a route was made, changing an initial idea I had had of running down the ridge over Bryn Ten before turning for the path back up to Fan y Big as with the wind direction it would have meant a long 2 mile slog upwards directly into the teeth of it, which would be no fun for anyone!

 
Once across to the summit of Pen y Fan you have the runnable short sharp drops and climbs as you can move from peak to peak and by the time we had worked our way round to Fan y Big the weather broke and we had vindication in our decision to come here for the run as the views opened-up and we could see for miles around under clear blue skies.

The route we had decided to run was based on the infamous ’horseshoe ridge’ walk, but doing it as a loop starting at the base of the horseshoe, so we needed to link the bottom of the east and west sides of it by running down from the summits to the valley bottom, across the reservoir in the middle and back up to the top on the western arm.

From Fan y Big we began our descent to the valley, wending our way over Torpantau and the field of babies heads till we skirted Taf Fechan Forest. This run was energy sapping as you tried to bounce from one to the other in total guess-work as to what your foot was landing on. The gaps between them were essentially bog, freezing bog running with water. Every time you missed a head, or slipped off one you splashed your foot down in to them. Every step was a fresh full foot immersion into the freezing bath and maximum discomfort as you could not get your feet warm from the continual soakings.

 
Eventually we cleared the field of babies heads and descended into the bottom of the valley hitting the reservoir where we had a bit of an unwelcome surprise: building works. Unfortunately all the paths across the reservoir that you would normally take were closed with metal fencing around them whilst they seem to be either removing or re-building one of the smaller holding dam sections where in the past we have managed to cross.

Descending from the sub-zero chill on the top it made you appreciate the difference in temperature when you were no longer exposed to the elements, as once on the valley floor it felt positively balmy and our hats and gloves were temporarily removed. Under the clear skies you could think it was summer except for the frosted tips of the snowy ridge. Seeing this though made us realise we were about to climb back up on to the top and confront the wind head-on as the storm-front moved in.

Not wanting to detour for a couple of miles we decided to venture towards the main dam and see if we could access it to walk across to the other side. Unfortunately this was not possible as they have it well secured with anti climb fencing, so we had to think again.

Our option was to drop down to the overspill at the bottom of the dam. Here the flow of the water was a bit too feisty to attempt a crossing without a large risk of being swept off our feet, so after a quick sandwich we followed the river down stream to where we could find a manageable crossing point and a thigh-deep wade across.

Fording.

Crossing the river meant we were now on the way up to the other side of the horseshoe and very soon we were beyond the trees and exposed to the blast of the wind and the snow once more as we ascended to the ridge. Running this western ridge we had the problem of the stiffening gusts of wind trying to push us off the edge which focused our attention as we had a grand-stand view of the dark grey of Jorge on the horizon looming larger.

This last couple of miles on the top were a steady ascent but runable although it required a great deal of concentration with the wind catching you off-balance and the loose rocky path interspersed with icy mud and puddles. At times when you could it made sense to be as far across to the left hand side as you could to mitigate against the force of the incoming winds until we had finished our ‘loop’.

On our run we had had the luxury of the route all to ourselves except when we joined back on to the main path to and from the summit for the descent to the car park. We now had the pleasure of running downhill like salmon against the tide of people walking to the top of Pen y Fan, staring into their pained faces as they struggled upwards whilst we bounded down, the snow beginning to be whipped-in as the sky bruised noticeably.

Back in the car park having chalked-off 13 miles including a vertical mile of cumulative climb and the same in descent, what could we do to mark our exploits? Spaniel had the answer and rummaged in his bag in the boot of the car and pulled-out some cheese, crackers and a mini bottle of wine for us all to toast our efforts in style: a grand day out and not a pair of the wrong trousers in sight - ok well maybe one as Graham was the only one to opt for leggings on the run!.. That said with my hamstrings like blocks of ice on the initial limb as I was blasted by the wind and whipped by the snow I could appreciate his logic in choosing a full leg covering.

I can now say I’ve been up and down the horse-shoe in both summer and winter seasons. Both were absolutely stunning, although there was more running to be done in the summer with the lack of ice underfoot speeding things up. I’ll definitely be back, either as a group or by myself as there’s still plenty of routes up and down and around the horseshoe for me to explore!

Oh and I properly killed-off my trainers on the run. I knew they were near the end of their life, but the battering of the babies heads well and truly finished them off!

Totally totaled!

 


Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.