Head Over Heels (or ar$£ over t!t)

Last time I fell during a run was in the Haytor Heller 2015. Oooo I did graze my knees. I’ve been surprisingly sure footed since then. Until today………..

It sure has been a challenging week chez nous. So we were ready for a lovely adventure today, tired for sure, but looking forward to the Tavy 13. It is a fabulous half marathon, hilly and challenging but with a “ahhhh-weeeeeeeee” 3 mile downhill and flat finish.

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Other people might want some of that Martin

The same gang of three (the wonderful Mrs Bonfield, the silver fox & yours truly) set off for Tavistock, arriving in good time and ready for our standard pre-match coffee (or multi-sugared tea). We had all, of course, completed the Larmer Tree Marathon 7 days earlier (see last weeks review) and were prepared to be carrying that fatigue in our legs.

 

This event, fantastically organised by Tavistock Athletic ClubTavistock Athletic Club, also played host to the Primary Schools Challenge, where nearly 500 primary school children would complete a mile after the grown-ups had set off on their 13.1 mile adventure. This was the culmination of 13 weeks of the youngsters running a mile a week.

What with there being nearly 500 in the half marathon, all the supporters, children’s’ parents and supporters it made for a cracking atmosphere at the track and a strain on the toilet facilities!

We were all running our own races, so we wished each other luck and lined up on the lush spongy running track with the buzzing throng of runners.

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Toileted and Coffeed ready for the off

 

 

The hooter sounded and off we went, starting with half a lap of the track through the wonderful tunnel of noise created by all those children cheering us along.

I seemed to settle into what felt like my pace quickly as we went towards Tavistock itself and then straight into a climb out of the town. I don’t climb particularly quickly but I feel I have become quite efficient and so I focus on the rhythm of my foot-strike and try to ignore those that appear to be sprinting past me! They are either faster runners than me, in which case they’ll be gone or maybe they’re pushing too hard and I might catch them later.

Despite this climb, I went through mile 1 in 6m50s, bang on pace for a 1h30m finish, I didn’t really have a target for today, and I knew there was plenty of hilly stuff to come so I stuck with running on feel. We went along a fairly flat tarmac path through some woodland which ended in a sharp little decent followed by a hairpin turn to join a road and head back uphill.

I noticed the 2 mile marker on a post as I started to thank the marshal, there were so many wonderful marshals, skilfully guiding us through any junctions or tricky sections.

“Thank you marsh………..” SLIP, SMASH, SLIDE. Man down! My gangly 6 foot frame spread-eagled on the junction, “you alright mate?” the concerned calls of many of the runners as they hopped over me and headed up the hill. The very concerned marshal encouraged me to take a bit of time to recover, unsightly blood dribbling down my leg.

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Luckily my fall wasn’t bad enough to require these guys

 

 

My watch had actually vibrated to tell me I had completed mile 2 in 6m23s as I fell!

I picked myself up and set off again, sore and with dented pride, wryly chuckling to myself. I seem to remember the next couple of miles being undulating (6.46 & 6.31) before a challenging climb in mile 5 taking us up on to the moors (8.07) before settling in to a couple more undulating miles enjoying the glorious vistas (6.50 & 6.39).2017-03-19 11.38.31

2017-03-19 11.38.39There is a big old hill in mile 8 and I started to trudge a bit. I spurred myself on with a little look at the ribbon I often wear on race day. My sister lost her battle with cancer 8 years ago, and today would have been her 52nd birthday. I try to only use Karen’s memory as a positive thing and I know she was so happy that’d I’d taken up running and started taking better care of myself, so she would have surely have told me to dig in and get to the top.

Through mile 8 in 8m30s, I knew the run in was down to the town and then flat so I started to let my limbs spiral as quickly as I dared, not wishing to repeat my tumbling antics of earlier!

Miles 9 and 10 (6.26 & 6.39) were a battle into the wind and mile 11 had a little climb (6.59) before whizzing back through 12 & 13 (6.18 & 6.47) towards town and the 600 meter finish on the track. My tired bleeding bloody was pleased to see the finish line and there was a brief emotional moment with me and the ribbon.

1 hour 31 minutes 22 seconds. Unofficial.

My rushing about didn’t stop then, though. Knowing Martin and Nicky were also soon to be on their way, I hobbled back to the car to collect jumpers (it certainly was chilly once I’d stopped) and coffee and cake money.

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Some of the wonderful Tavy Athletics Club Catering Team

The fantastic Tavistock Athletics Club Catering Team were handily trackside with drinks, cakes, hot dogs, bacon sarnies.. The Works. What an enthusiastic, helpful, smiling, congratulating and efficient team they were. The younger staff members falling over themselves to make sure I was laden with recovery refreshments for when my fellow intrepid runners arrived. Which was quite soon as it turned out, Martin blitzing up the home straight in 1h53m and Nicky following soon after also with a sprint to finish in 2h08m.

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Nicky flying to the finish

Their smiles matched mine as we compared notes and munched and drank through our post race goodies.

£9 this race. With road closures and the facilities and a lovely little medal. Bargain.

Hats off to the Tavy club for another resounding success, wonderful atmosphere and some great memories on a day on memories.

Check out the Tavy 7 too, another lovely race.

Please check out my other blog posts….

Larmer Tree Marathon, Bideford Half, my writing journey, elitism, tired Mo, working & running and have a rummage through my marathons to date.

 

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Scrummy post race refreshment

 

 

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We get it Mo, we get it

I’ve got nothing against Mo Farah. In fact my favourite ever television sporting moment was seeing him hold on to win the 5000m gold medal at the London Olympic games in 2012.

Actually, my FAVOURITE television sporting moment has got to be Keith Houchen’s flying header in extra time to win the FA Cup for Coventry City back in 1987!

“Play up Sky Blues”

 

Anyway. Mo had won gold in the 10000m the previous Saturday, on the night Greg Rutherford and Jessica Ennis were also flying the Union Jack on the highest pole. Rather than let the euphoria last and sink in though, Mo had to recover quickly and run a heat of the 5000m on the Wednesday before coming back to make it 50 hard hard laps of the track in a week.

Nope, I definitely have NOTHING against Mo Farah.

Elite sport in general? I’m becoming increasingly disinterested to be honest. The veil of secrecy, the omerta, the cynicism, the protective practices and apparent corruption protecting the commercial income at the top of many sports. There appears to be an unwillingness to seriously break the culture of corruption and the more sellable the performer the less likely they are to have deliberately taken anything that accidently ends up in their bodily fluids. Anyway, that’s for another day…

So then, Mo, why might he have grated my cheeselets? Well, I know I’m light years behind here, but that Mo documentary screened last year, showing his relentless schedule and commitment to  his craft. At one point, he was filming himself, in an eerie Blair Witch Project light, whispering that it was 6am and he was already up and off to train.

Don’t get me wrong, he reportedly trains as hard as anyone on the elite circuit and is willing to put in the hard sessions, the hard miles and the hard lifestyle choices needed to be a winner. Its the suggestion that by getting up before sunrise he is making a huge sacrifice. Presumably breakfast, laundry, massage, ice baths, recovery meals etc etc are very much, and quite rightly, provided for and arranged on behalf of such a superstar of the sport.

A good friend, to whom I have already referred in a previous post, was out at 6am in hurricane Doris (I’m a Secret Strava Nosey Parker), a bit like Mo. Only he had just finished his 10 hour shelf filling night shift in the supermarket and getting a 10 miler in before taking over parental duties from his wife, herself off to start her nursing shift. He was probably hoping for 4 hours sleep before starting the whole process again.

Anybody kind enough to be perusing this blog probably has at least a passing, more like participatory, interest in our wonderful world of running.

I imagine then that you will be impressed by the incredible performances of those, like Mo, at the very sharp end of sport.

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I also imagine that the runners among you are engaged in some or most of the following list; going to work, cycling or walking there, looking after children, grand children, partners, parents, pets, studying, shopping, doing the laundry, cleaning and maintaining the house and garden, juggling finances and banking, paperwork for the self employed, giving lifts to and from late night teenage antics etc etc.

You may too, quite like to find time to get and there and run.

We get it Mo, we too are tired.tired-runner