“What if I am accidentally or deliberately knocked into the canal?”

This thought comes without preamble, on reflex. A group of boisterous lads on bicycles have just forced me to take evasive action on the narrow canal tow path. I have successfully dodged the danger but I can’t shake the lingering feeling of demise.

“Even drenched I could keep going.” I think self-righteously, but closely on the heels of that thought flows another… “Then again – it would mean I could legitimately stop”.

I process that idea, my calves sighing in agreement and my eyes drifting to examine the turbid water in question.  I would almost certainly become hypothermic… unless I got out really quickly…This is a dangerous line of inquiry so helpfully my brain reiterates the point.

“Why not jump in the canal?” – No!
“It would look like an accident.” – No!
“No one would blame you if you stopped.” NO – I don’t want to stop!
“But it’s hard.” I have to concede this point.

My brain recycles the idea and I argue internally. The canal remains silent but winks every so often in the sporadic blasts of sunlight that occasionally make it past the cloud cover.

How did I get here, miles from anywhere, debating with myself the pros and cons of hypothermia?

Several hours ago, Andreas and I set off – on foot – from Wendover with ~250 other runners for our first race of the year. The Country to Capital Ultra, an aptly named event which begins humbly nested in the Chiltern hills in a traditional village pub.  The route then takes you 44 miles away to Little Venice, London – the capital.  The first half is run on pleasant undulating trails and tracks through some very scenic countryside.  The second half is run along the perfectly flat, seemingly endless, grubby canal tow path – not that I am bias – at least not much.

Ever since we reached inside the M25 people are less tolerant to our running antics, even shouting abuse at us.  On top of that, I can’t help but notice that whenever there are boats moored there is always an accompanying accumulation of rubbish.  I’ve lost count of the amount of crushed cans and faded crisp packets that pollute the path edge. It makes me sad.

Before, in the countryside, I had been a bit sore, but otherwise enjoying myself. Navigating puddles.  Chatting with other runners.  Trying not to get lost (the course was simple but unmarked).  It was pretty and hilly and varied.  The occasional crowd of spectators cheering you on, fields of ponies, and walkers smiling, nodding their head in encouragement.  I was feeling good.

Now, 40 K in – I am beginning to question my motivations.  I am contemplating ending it all with a quick dip in the freezing January waters.  It doesn’t help that I was expecting check point 3 (CP3) to have come by now.  I must have misremembered – is that it now?  It wasn’t.  It was 2 K further along.  It was a very long 2 K.  I decided in the end, not to jump in the canal, but then I was left with the only alternative.  To. Keep. Going.  But I am not happy about it.  Will this canal ever end?

10 minutes later, CP3 reached, lunch consumed, calves stretched a bit, and the sun out – I can’t imagine ending anything.  I feel, not invincible, but close to it.  26 K to go I think, I can do this, I can definitely do this.  And we are off.  It might be my imagination but people suddenly seem friendlier, the day a little brighter, the surroundings offering more character, charming narrow boats, colourful graffiti, enjoyable views… I have to admit, maybe it was my mood tainting my earlier perceptions.  At least the canal doesn’t hold me in a morbid obsession anymore.

So, highlights to report.  Kevin – legendary bloke, kept us company for first two CPs.  His fifth time running the C2C, he’s got lost every year (he tells us gleefully) and stops at each CP to have a cigarette (“I can’t go without my rollies”- he says).  Kevin keeps a constant conversation and imparts wisdom along the way and despite regularly reducing the oxygen carrying capacity of his blood he easily pulls ahead after CP2 and finishes an hour ahead of us.  Well done mate!

Next exciting thing – bear with me – the weather!  It was essentially all four seasons day.  We had rain (I am secretly pleased as I got to finally use my new super expensive OMM waterproof jacket – it works!), snow, bright sunshine and the usual overcast British skies.  There was a really pleasant stretch, South Bucks Way I think – where it snowed.  Andreas and I were alone and it was suddenly kind of romantic and cute – piles of nature, snow, sharing a Cliff Bar – what more do you want?  Miles ticked by effortlessly (before the canal obviously).

During the canal section, it is so flat, my legs literally forget how to deal with gradients of any kind.  Whenever there is a bridge to cross Andreas and I are forced into a strange side wades limp in order to climb and descend it.  Post 50 K (furthest run ever) I am also completely incapable of holding a thought, a song or a decent conversation.  I am reduced to simply moving forward with fleeting song lines in my head.  I do tell Andreas about my canal jumping fantasy, to which he smiles and says – “Ha, me too!”.

In order to get through the whole event – mentally – I can’t think of the whole thing at once.  I just break it down to getting to the next check point. This matter was helped by the next race highlight – The Go Beyond Fruit Cake.  It was at all the aid stations where I inevitably gobbled a square down each time and it was, frankly, bloody lovely.  NEXT CHECK POINT = MORE CAKE, and so in this way I was able to convince myself to keep going.  Many thanks to all the volunteers at the aid stations – especially CP4 where I had to refill my water bladder and my fingers didn’t really work so a lovely man did it for me! If I had had to do it myself I might still be there!

So what happens when you realise you are going to actually run 44 miles?  For me, at CP5, hearing there was just 10 K to go, filled me with powerful feelings of euphoria.  Suddenly I had plenty of energy in the tank, my pace increased, my vision narrowed (not just because it was getting dark) and I was riding this jubilation of I am actually going to do this and soon I can shower.  Andreas had to reign me in – no point in sprinting at kilometre 58 only to kill yourself by kilometre 59!  This euphoria was closely followed by intense feelings of sorrow.  I had to wait for Andreas to fish out his head lamp and whilst I was waiting (probably only a minute) I lost momentum and couldn’t quite match Andreas’ pace afterwards.  I was only a footstep away from full on balling my eyes out – they had already started to water painfully – but Andreas noticed and slowed down – thank goodness, I definitely didn’t have energy to spare to have a cry.  This emotional rollercoaster aside, the final miles came quickly and painlessly.  Some people were cheering and there was a bright light (finishers photo – I didn’t notice the photographer) and then – somehow, 1.5 hours faster than we predicted, Andreas and I covered 68.5 K in 9:03:37!  I can hardly believe the canal and I can part ways!

In the spirit of honesty – I felt great, ecstatic, amazing upon finishing – which was lovely.  Then, after a grace period of maybe 30 seconds the pain kicked in.  Calves were done, arms were done, feet were done.  Even helping myself to more Go Beyond Fruit Cake didn’t really help (couldn’t hurt to try though).  We ran that last 10 K in 1:12:17, but it took us 20 minutes to walk the 350 metres to Paddington Train Station.  It was cold and I lost circulation to all my fingers and toes and I was beginning to feel nauseous – Andreas wasn’t much better!  This is the result of running nearly 70 K.  My main comfort though, aside from the fact that we had just completed our longest distance yet, was that – all things considered, it was still infinitely less painful than the Lisbon Marathon!  You’ve been in worse pain, I told myself, get on with it.  Showered, changed into warm clothes and tonnes of Lebanese food later, (and only a slight bit of gastrointestinal distress) – and the pain is totally manageable.  I am even considering doing the 50 mile Go Beyond Thames Trot in a few weeks’ time…

some refuelling… Ya Hala Paddington!

check out the my age-category leader! only a few hours faster…

Anyway, a really great event to start the year off.  It was well organised, excellent cake supply, super helpful volunteers.  Many thanks to all (including my Mum who played taxi again!), we really enjoyed it!  Definitely one to repeat.

I also have to thank Andreas.  He has wholeheartedly embraced this foray into endurance running with me – the training, nutrition, events, the gear, the blisters – and I couldn’t be happier to finish something like this with him by my side.  He has a cool, easy athleticism and attitude to the whole thing which makes our long run jaunts a delightful way to spend a day.