Running could change the world

I was bought Caitlin Moran’s book “How to be a Woman” for Christmas. It’s not the sort of book I’d usually read, but it was looking abandoned on the bookshelf, so finally decided to pick it up.

It had a very rare effect on me – it made me angry.

It’s half autobiography, half about Moran’s views on feminism and its main theme is her opinion that world these days is still a difficult one for women because although we may have the vote and be able to go to work, we’re still all hard done by and need to wake up and realise how subjugated we all still are. Although feminist Moran has now broken though, and is living the life we all want to live, where she is confident, independent, has a partner who shares in her life rather than controls it, and essentially feels she can behave how she wants, there are lots of other women who can't break through.

She discusses themes of “being a woman” and describes how Western women seem to live double lives - where outwardly they're happy, independent and confident, but actually they exist in some archaic nightmare, spending forever and a day doing their hair before going to the shops, not stepping out of the house without their make-up done and their fake tan applied, hating wearing heels but having to, being the downtrodden one in relationships, being criticised by the masses if they decide not to have children, being considered on the scrap heap once they go through the menopause and generally not achieving anything.  There was a quote about women just BEING not DOING – we exist but don’t actually contribute anything.

What made me angry was the assumption (maybe the reality) that the majority of women are actually still living like this in the Western world. It's a totally alien concept to me - that's not the life of anyone I know, but the idea that there are still women and girls out there who can't behave as they want to, even when they live in countries and under political regimes where they have total legal equality, is appalling. Whether it's true that life is still like this for lots of women, and that they are still subjugated, to be honest, I don't know. 

What I do know, though, is that running marathons, and particularly ultras, has, without a doubt, changed how I perceive life and how I feel about myself.

Marvellous Mimi Anderson
Holder of numerous world records for ultra running

It’s opened my eyes to a world where men and women compete in the same event, and sometimes the women win, but where, in fact, no-one seems to care whether you’re male or female because actually we’re all just runners; where you can wear no make-up and be covered in mud and sweat and look the messiest but the best you’ve ever looked and are considered amazing because of what you’ve just achieved! The running community has given me incredible male and female role models, from every age group and background, and has taught me the value of dedication and hard work, of setting the most ridiculously lofty goals, which everyone around you actually encourages you to aim for, and then the joy of achieving them after putting your heart and soul into months of working towards them. It has also make me realise and truly appreciate just how wonderful other people are - how supportive, caring and selfless they can be to someone they don’t even know yet.

No female marathon runner I have ever come across is anything like the negative descriptions of subjugated women portrayed in Moran’s book.  

It deeply saddens me if it's true that girls are growing up thinking they need to become a WAG or a reality TV personality to be successful, or just to be considered “normal” they have to subject themselves to wearing heels they don’t like or plastic surgery they don’t want, and a lifetime of supporting their man instead of actually achieving their dreams. If they were exposed to the running culture, surely it would help to counteract the negativity of the celebrity and patriarchal culture that Moran tells me we’re still living in. 

This is exactly why it always pleases me to see children at running events, like the RDs' children who help out at the Challenge Running and Enigma races. Exposing them to our world must surely inspire them – not necessarily just with the actual running, but with of those other things that are more important – that age, gender and appearance are irrelevant and it’s all about working hard, looking after each other, and pursuing your goals.

I’ve decided - running could change the world – we need to get everyone else to realise it.

Getting back to normal

Although my knee is still problematic, I'm really pleased with how I've felt this week after the weekend's 45 miles. On Monday I was a little stiff, but not really any pain or restriction of movement, and if it hadn't been for my knee still being very painful I could probably have run on Tuesday.  To recover that quickly is a real blessing, and I'm also very grateful, to be honest, that my gamble with running so far in brand new shoes paid off and I wasn't left with any foot problems to contend with either.

But despite feeling pretty good, I haven't run yet...I want to wait until I can walk without any knee pain before I start running on it again, but in the last 24 hours it's definitely improved, and so tonight I may try a five miler around the streets, and on the back of that, make a decision about my plans for the weekend. I've got a place in the Cambridge Boundary Marathon on Sunday, which is another self-nav cross country affair - it'd be a good opportunity to have another go in my now favourite Salomons, but no doubt it's going to be a very muddy day and lots of hard work! To be honest I'm looking forward to the string of road races I've got coming up which are inevitably going to easier...

The other thing I'm considering is going along with Heather (another 10in10er from Billericay) to her fitness training class on Saturday morning. It sounds pretty brutal but I think I need the motivation of other people since I stopped seeing the personal trainer. Now that the St Peter's Way is done, I feel I can really start focusing on the 10in10, which means also making a real effort to concentrate on some strength training in conjunction with the running. I think I've got the diet and nutrition thing finally in hand now, and have lost nearly a stone since the beginning of the year which is of course a good thing, but I do need to start stepping up my game in terms of improving my general fitness and getting stronger!

It's time to really get back to proper training rather than just running races at the weekend!!

The St Peter's Way Ultra race report

Since the beginning of the year, my training has been pretty sporadic and I really haven't been as motivated or consistent as I need to be.  I had a couple of slow marathon runs, then my attempt at the cross country marathon where I DNF'ed and injured my knee, 9 days totally off running, a weekend of sickness...it really wasn't the best preparation for a 45 mile self-navigation cross country run on a freezing Sunday in February.

As a result of all of this, I really was in two minds as to whether I should turn up at all to run the St Peter's Way ultra on Sunday, Challenge Running's second event after last year's Stort 30...you know, that race where I was first lady ;) Anyway, I thought that marshalling was probably a much better option than trying to run for 45 miles only to get another DNF, which would sap my confidence even further.  But I bought my new Salomen's, just in case, and kept thinking about everyone who was expecting me to be there and how many people at work I'd told I would be running the distance! As silly as it is, I was also thinking about my bio on twitter and my blog - I call myself an ultra runner, and I really need to run some ultras if I'm going to let myself keep that title!

However, because I wasn't 100% committed to taking part in the event, I didn't properly prepare in the days leading up to it - I wasn't running because my knee was still hurting (but I suppose we could call that tapering) and I wasn't carb loading because I'm still trying to lose weight for the wedding.  I wasn't drinking enough, I didn't even manage to sort out my kit or pack anything on Saturday, and after watching far too much of a film, didn't get to bed until after midnight...and then had to get up again when I realised that of course I was running in the morning, who was I kidding that I was going to pull out or marshal, but I still had to charge my Garmin, which I incidentally couldn't find, so charged up my old 405CX instead! 

On Sunday morning, I rushed around manically trying to sort out my kit, making sure I had the compulsory stuff that was listed online. I couldn't find a pair of gloves, so ended up wearing odd ones, I couldn't find my 2XU tights, I forgot to pack a banana or any painkillers...it was all just a bit of a nightmare! Francis was very kindly giving me a lift to the start despite having to get up in the middle of the night (for him!) to do so, and once he woke up, we quickly bundled out of the door and into the car, quite stressed about the whole thing, but just hoping it was all going to be ok....

As soon as I arrived at the start, I totally relaxed into it as I saw so many runners I know. I met a couple of people I'm friends with online for the first time in person - my mentor Jerry Smallwood, who's supported me through massive changes in my running in the last couple of years (and who was sweeping the event with the lovely Allan Rumbles, who I consider my other mentor) and also met Morgan Pinkett who lives in Billericay too, and who's been a friend on twitter for a while now. It definitely makes a difference to meet people in real life! After sorting out numbers, dropping off bags and listening to the quick briefing from Race Director Lindley, we were all ready to go. I'd made my excuses to everyone about how I was going to get to the marathon distance, and then decide whether I was going to continue or drop out. People nodded heads, and agreed I should see how I got on...little did I know there was a conspiracy brewing to make sure I didn't drop out unless I absolutely had to - Lindley knew my head wasn't in the best place and that was going to be the biggest risk to my finishing.

With a couple of seconds to go, I suddenly remembered my Garmin was still in my rucksack....as organised as ever! I scrabbled about trying to get my rucksack off, the watch on, the rucksack back on and the Garmin set-up to find satellites....and then we were off. I was at the back of the pack (where I pretty much stayed for the whole day!) but I was there, and running my second long distance ultra.

I was running with Conrad Wild, who I know through twitter but who I also ran with for 10 miles or so at the Stort 30. We had talked before the race about running together, and I was pretty worried about it, as I knew I wasn't particularly fit for the distance, and didn't want to hold him back. As we got to the first ploughed field and he bounded over it like some mountain goat while I walked tentatively over the rough terrain, I was even more concerned, especially when I saw he'd waited, but stay with me he did, and I will be forever grateful!

The field quickly spread out, and most of the runners in front of us disappeared from view before too long. Conrad and I were a bit perturbed - I was happy with our conservative pace and we were keeping pretty much to plan, but everyone else just seemed to be very fast - a great field of runners indeed! We plodded on though, enjoying ourselves and following the instructions which were, by and large, very clear.  A few detours, and moments of confusion, even getting a bit lost a couple of times but to get us to 45 miles for the race, we had to built in a bit of extra distance, as if you followed the SPW properly I think it's only 42 miles or so!

My knee wasn't great, and at the first checkpoint I'd put on my support, and at the second, rubbed in some ibuprofen gel to try and alleviate the pain. Got to say that the food provision was excellent at the checkpoints - I was very impressed! I really felt for everyone who was manning them though - it was bitterly cold and I can't imagine how unpleasant it must have been standing around for hours waiting for us runners at the back of the pack. My appreciation for marshals grows with every event I do!!

By the time we were getting close to the third checkpoint at just before 26 miles, I'd started talking to Conrad (and Ralph, another runner who we'd picked up) about dropping out because of my knee. It hurt, but not enough to stop me running, but I was worried about how I was going to manage to finish...it's true, it's all in the mind! I just kept thinking about how on earth could I tell people at work I'd dropped out of another race, about how I wouldn't get to have that amazing medal that Lindley had sorted out, how I'd have failed...again! But I wasn't convinced that I had the strength to keep going and was scared of it turning into an absolute disaster. As soon as we arrived at checkpoint three, I had a big hug from Karen, whose first words were "Lindley told me I'm not allowed to let you drop out". There we go then....the decision had been taken out of my hands, and to be honest I was relieved. I didn't have to think about it any more - I was going to finish this event one way or another and that was that.

We stood chatting for too long, enjoying Karen's baking and the still impressive food selection that was available, but started to get cold and stiff and on suddenly realising, we were quick to get moving again, leaving Ralph with his wife, and the peanut butter sandwiches and tomato soup she was transporting to every checkpoint for him! He soon caught us up though.

I don't remember much about the details of the actual run to be honest....it was straight across lots of barren fields in a bitterly cold wind that felt like it was searing your skin, through paddocks filled with "possibly friendly" horses according to the race instructions, clambering over too-high rickety stiles, along tree-lined tracks, over a gate into a sheep pen, pushing through hedges and at one point we were jumping across a stream - maybe this was one of the bits where we were lost? Not sure, but it really was all a great adventure and I loved it. There were centuries old churches, quaint villages, a Sunday morning football match, and I remember the stupid woman with her rat-like mini dog on a long lead that jumped up at me trying to bite my knee at some point in the day. I think it got a mouthful of my knee support instead.  "Oh, he doesn't usually do that...it's because you're running" she told me. The last section was a bit different as we got to the coast. The farmer's fields gave way to marshes, mud-flats, flocks of geese, and the boats in the harbour.

Photo "borrowed" from Paul Ali's blog post about the race

The latter part of the race was definitely the most agonising time I've ever had as the pain in my knee went from occasional stabbing each time I bent it, to a bread knife being permanently embedded and twisting in the bottom of my knee cap each time it moved. Had Conrad not been determined to keep us to a schedule of running (25 minutes) and walking (5 minutes) and timing us through it, I think I could have walked the rest of the way.  He did relent when I was noticeably limping as I walked, and we ran 5, walked 5 until I had worked out how to deal with the pain and we could carry on running properly.

Reaching the sea wall was a real marker for me. We were nearly at the finish which 20 miles ago had really been inconceivable and that was a massive boost. The light was waning and I wanted to finish without the torch, but didn't manage it - it quite quickly seemed to get very dark, and in the end I was too worried about missing my footing and falling over the edge! 

So, light in hand, buff pulled up over my face, head down, desperately ignoring my knee, the wind and the bitter cold, and willing Conrad on through the pain he was suffering, onwards we went for the last few miles. We were going to complete it.

Running towards our destination of the St Peter-on-the-Wall chapel seemed to take an absolute age - you can see it from miles away but it just didn't seem to get any closer.  All of a sudden though, the directions sent us down a bank, round the corner, and that's the finish!  There was a building, but it was shrouded in darkness and apparently deserted, so we weren't 100% certain we were in the right place! We ran over to the closest wall and suddenly came across the finish sign flapping in the wind....that icy, biting, hypothermia inducing wind that we'd been running through ;)  I couldn't believe we'd finished but indeed we had. 

Before too long we were inside the chapel, being congratulated and having more food. Got to love an extra checkpoint at the end of a race to refuel! :D We'd taken 10 hours and 7 minutes - longer than I'd hoped for, for the distance, but in the circumstances, I'm happy with our time - the cut off was 13 hours so we were well within that.

There's no electricity in the chapel, but a few of us had headtorches so there was some light, and it was pretty atmospheric. It's really ancient - built on the ruins of a Roman fort by St Cedd in 654AD and doesn't seem to have changed much since then. Since it was built all of those hundreds of years ago, St Peter's chapel has been a site of pilgrimage to many, as now it was to us - we might not have been on a religious journey, but it was certainly one of self-discovery and dedication! 

I'd phoned Francis at the last checkpoint, and by the time we'd got ourselves changed and sorted out, and then trudged up to the car park a mile along a muddy track from the chapel, he was waiting in the warm car. We gave Conrad a lift back to the start where he'd left his car....and then it was done, all over, and you know what, I'm not sure I've ever felt more pleased with myself after an event, except perhaps my marathon PB race...because for the first time, I felt like I'd run a real ultra.

The 52 miles I did in July was a safe event, really closely managed, and laps of 6 miles each.  The St Peter's Way race was totally different - I had a rucksack, I had to carry provisions, I had to follow directions, it was absolutely bloody freezing, and I was in a world of pain for a lot of the distance, and I certainly wasn't very well prepared for it. But I finished. Although this was, in part, down to sharing the hard work with Conrad and for some of the way with Ralph, and to the support from Lindley, Sue, Karen, Jerry, Morgan, Allan, the other marshals....it all made a real difference.

I don't think I could have done it on my own, and I'm hugely grateful I didn't have to try.

Not so shiny new shoes

Yesterday, I ran (and more importantly and surprisingly finished) the St Peter's Way 45 mile ultra event....in brand new shoes! I know it was a stupid and risky thing to do, but I had to wear trail shoes to cope with the cross country route, didn't have any, bought a pair of Salomon Speedcross, and then didn't get a chance to break them in.

So I wore them anyway but luckily they were absolutely fine and I got away with it, with just a tiny blister on the side of my big toe!

The event itself was brilliant, and I'm going to write a decent blog post about the whole thing, but for the time being will leave you with the pictures of my shoes. One photo was taken on Wednesday when I bought them, the other, 45 miles later, after the race....

My first DNF

Yesterday was the Braintree Boggle Marathon, a small affair organised by a few members of the Springfield Striders and the Mid-Essex Casuals running clubs. It's a cross-country run around Braintree, and totally self-navigated, which I was very nervous about, with only marshals at the four checkpoints out on the course. The forecast had been terrible too - heavy rain for most of the morning followed by heavy snow. It didn't look like it was going to be much fun!

However, I sent off bright and early on Sunday morning, despite my trepidation and was looking forward to trying out a different sort of race which I thought would be a great training run in advance of the St Peter's Way ultra which I have in a few weeks.

We started well - gripping the four sides of A4 route instructions in a plastic pouch, 100 or so of us ran off up the road and soon got to the fields. I don't think it'd started raining at that point, although it was definitely very cold, but the weather certainly wasn't as bad as I'd expected - unfortunately though, an awful lot of rain had already fallen, and the ground was either flooded or very muddy and slippery with the Essex clay! My feet were quickly drenched from the puddles, but soon afterwards my shoes filled with mud which at least helped to keep my feet warm ;)

Before too long the field started to thin out, and although I ran for a fair while with a lovely guy (who's name unfortunately has escaped me) who was running his (i think) 280ish marathon that day, there were also lots of miles run on my own, when I had to put my navigational skills to the test where there wasn't another soul in sight! I was pretty pleased with how I managed to be honest - although those instructions look scary to start with, once you start getting through them, they made sense and were pretty each to follow.  What was less easy, was staying upright!

I was in my road shoes (I only own road shoes) and the route really was very hard work - without a shadow of a doubt I should have been in trail shoes and I think I was the only person who wasn't. I was slipping and sliding all over the place, and it was slow jogging or walking for most of it, as I couldn't get up any pace on that terrain. There were a few sections of concrete track, tarmac path and even country road, and although they were few and far between, they were absolute god-sends for me as I really was struggling!

By about 15 miles, I had something else to content with...the niggling knee pain that I've had for the last few weeks really started to develop, and soon because agonising to the extent that I couldn't run on it at all and could only walk. I initially thought I'd walk for maybe 5 or 10 minutes, but each time I started trying to run again, I'd find myself yelping in pain.  So, I resigned myself to walking.

So, walking.  Not that much fun to be honest. I was dressed for running and in the incredibly cold conditions and with a biting wind I soon started to lose heat, particularly in my hands. I was lucky I had a buff to protect my face but wished I had another layer to put on.  Anyway, walk I did, on my own, for three freezing miles until the checkpoint, where I declared that I'd had enough and I was pulling out. My first DNF.

The ladies at the checkpoint were lovely, with offers of coffee, and homemade flapjack, which was very gratefully received. I sat in their car until someone was able to give me a lift back to the start, and although I had a blanket, I unfortunately started to get incredibly cold, shivering quite violently. But as soon as I got into the heat of the car on the way back to the start, with the heated seats (wow - bliss!) I soon felt much better...although my knee was still complaining and I was limping now even when I was walking.

But I made it home. RICE followed with lots of ibuprofen gel. This morning though I'm really not able to walk without significant pain, never mind run. Not good, and so for the first time in a couple of years, I called in sick (well, injured) to work, and am spending the day resting my knee and will hopefully get to see the physio in the next day or so to find out what's wrong.

I feel a bit weird about not finishing the race but I know it was the right decision. I couldn't run, and there would have been absolutely no point at all in walking another 8 miles, even if I did have the mental strength to do that, which I don't think I did.  Besides, walking a third of the course just isn't what the marathon is about. I always told myself I would never have a DNF on my record, but you can't control injury, and sometimes, you've just got to be sensible.