I signed up to the Reading Half because a mate was meant to be running it and I thought it would be good fun to go round together.  Tom, is a lot faster than me but, in his own words “past 15 K it ceases to be easy”. Thus it would certainly make for some interesting racing.  Speed vs Endurance, Ego vs Ego, just a bit of fun, followed by an indulgent lunch and maybe a round or two of Settlers of Catan (*side note I adore playing board games).  Unfortunately for Tom he fell over playing badminton and fractured a metatarsal. No running for at least 2 months, what every runner wants to hear as they enter their taper period – said no runner ever.

I was gutted for him but also a little relieved, he was wanting to run a sub 1:50, and I haven’t been close to that pace in a while, favouring long slow runs almost exclusively for the last couple of months.  In addition, 8 days prior we had run 30 miles as a PB, then flown to Lapland and had 4 nights in the Arctic Circle, snowshoeing, snowmobiling, husky mushing, evading a rouge reindeer, late nights, early mornings, no recovery type holiday (yes – it was indeed amazing) – but basically Andreas and I were not exactly rocking up to the Reading half well rested ready to slash 3 minutes from a PB.

In fact, that morning I had a random onset thigh/upper groin pain even before the run commenced! Should have paid more attention to that, but, alas I did not.  Weirdly enough, circumstances presented another friend who happened to be running as well (also sub 1:50 group!) – However I knew better than to try and keep up.

At least I thought I did.

I have a race strategy, I know what works for me, yet, that day – ego, carelessness, whatever you want to call it, definitely got the better of me.  After the Amersham Ultra you’d think I would learn some caution, but apparently not.  Rather than following my usual proven routine – that is starting slow and going faster if it feels good later on – I threw that plan away and went with steady pacing (running everything at the target pace).  That is, to run a sub 1:50 you need to run 5:11 min/K – so that is what I would start running at.

Dear Readers, it takes my body about 6 K to warm up.  Even to this day my body resists running.  It will huff and puff and fake aches and generally try and dissuade me from continuing, especially when trying to go fast.  I just suck it up.  Tell myself the moment will pass and you know what?  It always does.  About 6 K in my body surrenders to my will and things are noticeably easier. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had some bodily cooperation over shorter distances, but generally for the half distance (and even some of the Ultras) my fastest 5 K is the last 5 K. Confused? Andreas thinks so, like, if I could go faster why didn’t I start out running faster…? And maybe I could, maybe I should, but subconsciously I think I hold back to make sure I can actually go the distance.  If there is just 5 K to go… Well, I can definitely make that! So you see it is easier to rip up the road.

So even knowing that I would benefit from a slower start, for some reason, I decided to just go for it.  I think maybe I was curious what would happen.  If I could make it to 6 K at 5:11 min/K pace then surely I could go the remaining 15 K…?

I made it 3 K, then well, forget it.  It seemed like after that I was just chasing wind.  3 K happened to coincide with my headphones breaking, so maybe if Dance with the Dead had kept playing this tale would have a different turnout – but I doubt it. That is a really fast pace for me and I hadn’t trained for speed.  Even without Tom there to run with us, I was still mentally racing him.  He runs a 21:30 5 K, I can run a 25:30 5 K – it was never going to happen unless I PACED myself – and I am usually good at pacing.  Oh well.

I didn’t blow up or anything drastic like that.  It just felt really hard.  I kept overheating again (this time I was wearing a vest and shorts but it didn’t seem to help) and did the thing where you pour water over your head and face like an elite.  But having a wet head was only a temporary fix.  Soothing in the moment but a minute later I was back to feeling like an inferno.  What are my hormones up to? I’ve been asking myself that a lot this month.  Or maybe it’s the extra 2 kg I’ve gained since Christmas?  Okay, 2.5 kg. Whatever. Argh.

Anyway, I’ve given up on a new PB by 8 K, since the 1:50 pacer has just whizzed by with a flamboyant and unforgiving flourish but I haven’t given up on a sub-2 time.  Even if its 1:59 I think I will be really happy.  Head down and crack on.

I wish I could tell you details of the course, but honestly I’m not sure I looked.  I remember there were a lot of spectators cheering which was nice, lots of kids offering high 5s and a generous amount of jelly babies.  There were a few hills, I think, a hospital, a bit of greenery, an underpass… and a long bridge just as we approached the finish.  The ground of Reading though I can tell you is mostly fraying tarmac, tired concrete or the occasional spot of cobbles.  Andreas can describe it better since he decided to wear his barefoot style running shoes and felt every little indent!

The finish was the most memorable, nothing like crossing the line in a packed stadium, even if the girl in purple I’d secretly been racing beat me in the final steps! I’d lost Andreas a few kilometres back so I decided to grab some water and wait for him.  As soon as I stopped I knew I’d pushed too hard.  I was aching way too much for a half marathon.  That random thigh pain? Back with vengeance. I will struggle to fall asleep that night because every time I move my right leg, it feels like something is deeply out of place.  I won’t be able to contemplate running for another 9 days and when I do that thigh pain will niggle at me. Oh dear.

Even so, 1:57:23 is not bad right?

For Valentine’s Day this year Andreas treated me to Mexican food and bought us race entry to the XNRG Humanity Direct Amersham 50 K Ultra.  This guy is the best!

Baja Fish Tacos, nachos, Pina Coladas consumed and with a 44 mile race already ticked off this year I was feeling pretty confident about that second part.  This would be our 3rd 50 K race and training had been going well, I was consistently racking up the weekly mileages and remaining injury free.  I was thinking of it as a chance to really rip up the trail, get a new PB, legitimately consume Rocky Roads… In all honesty I thought it would be a breeze.

Andreas, generally the more grounded of the two of us, did not agree.  “Are you joking? 50 K is still 50 K!”

Now it’s impossible to know exactly how the day would have gone had we not had this conversation, 7am, in the car on the way to Amersham but I’d like to speculate that sometimes you are your own self-fulfilling prophecy.  That is whether you think you can or whether you think you can’t, you’re probably right.  Other times, the opposite is true.  You might think ‘there is no way in hell I can run for 30 continuous minutes in just 9 weeks, maybe never’ but then you go ahead and do it anyway.

Of course sometimes the answer is glaringly obvious.  50 K is indeed still 50 K, and despite my intention to consume yet more cake, it was not, to quote an American expression referring to a very easy task, a cake walk.  And I was mentally woefully under-prepared for the distance.

Physically, I had been having some of the best training weeks leading up to an event possible. But mentally, my dismissive, it’ll all be fine, because it’s totally going to be easy… arrogance had left me chastened and aching by 28 K.

The route, the organisation, the wildlife, the other runners – everything was fantastic.  XNGR have the best stocked aid stations I’ve ever seen. But I was tapped out.  Then Andreas was tapped out.  Then I was again.  Then Andreas was again.

It’s hard to describe exactly what I mean – I could run, I wanted to run, but a few times I found myself crouched down (okay sometimes actually sitting down) feeling generally sorry for my calves as they protested at being forced round yet another obscene distance.  Why was I feeling like this? It sounds stupid, but I wasn’t expecting it to hurt. I know, right? I had forgotten the ‘let’s jump in the canal feeling’.

I am not alone, who finishes an event, feeling wrecked, broken and exhausted swearing never again, only to sign up to next year’s event with the discount code provided in your finishers bag?

Anyway, back to the actual event.  It’s a circular course starting from Dr Challoner’s Grammar School (with showers and changing rooms, yey!) which heads out and about the Chilterns, one of my favourite places to run!  Out from the school and the first section is a seemingly gentle downhill, (which will not seem so gentle uphill at 47 K in).  At the race briefing Neil Thubron, XNRG Founder and Director, says they like to make their courses challenging and enjoyable to all.  He is genuine, warm and eludes confidence which is catching. The surfaces today are officially something like 10% paths/roads and 90% trail, I would counter that it was 10% path, 80% trail and 10% mud. (Good thing I remembered last minute that I bought some gaiters (mudguards)).

In the right shoes I don’t mind mud. With the gaiters on I felt kind of invincible (even if I did occasionally pick up a few sticks!).  There was a really squishy downhill section, with an uneven twisty path, where you could literally hop like a ninja from bank to bank. During this section Andreas and I overtook a few folks, who I assume under normal circumstances would easily outrun us.  But on this downhill track they just could not get purchase.  Their feet slipped with every step.  I empathised, I’ve tried to run on a muddy track with my road shoes before and they do not enjoy it.  It makes it a real mission just to stay upright. The Saucony Peregrine’s however, hugged the ground and never once lost traction. In really thick mud they do tend to get clogged (think Spice Girl era platform shoes) but today they were really holding their own.  Down we went, through the fields, past some ponies, under the forest canopy… Yeah, this is defiantly one of my favourite places to run.

Andreas bonded with a guy running in barefoot style running shoes and I stuffed my face with Clif energy blocks/bars and all the cakes. Things were going well… but then… 50K is just kind of long… so, yes… I started to hurt and overheat, which I wasn’t prepared for and so began a mental motivation battle.  I was doing it, wasn’t I? I can do this. I wasn’t quitting, but did it have to hurt?  And why it is suddenly boiling hot?

The weather that day was perfect for running. It wasn’t hot or cold or humid.  My body was just having a tantrum.  Two check points before the end and 14 ish K to go I decide to risk death by chafing and remove my running top to run in just my sports bra.  My Camelbak will chafe, it’s just a question of how much.  But I can’t stand the heat anymore – is this still a side effect of the secondary amenorrhea?  I still get hot flushes and night sweats like a menopausal woman, is this what this is?  How long to undo all the damage I inflicted through inadequate fuelling? I moan to anyone who will listen at the aid station and forget to eat anything but with more skin exposed I do feel better.  Cooler, calmer – I settle into a nice rhythm for the last little bit, still optimistic to be under 6 hours.

Alas it was not to be.  The hill which hadn’t seemed so relentless at the beginning was stretching on.  Andreas and I shuffled up following a guy walking nonchalantly with a cherry flavoured vape.  I watched his Tesco carrier bag swing back and forth with a sigh of resignation.  I was trying to convince Andreas we could still make it (in under 6 hours) if we ran up the hill, but his toes weren’t cooperating.  Andreas rarely complains so it had to be bad (it was, his blisters had blisters under his toenails!).  Eventually I am persuaded to head on alone but it is too little too late and I can’t help but feel guilty to leave Andreas behind.

TomTom snap! Just over 48 K in just over 6 hours. Pretty good eh?

How could I leave this guy behind? Thanks babe 😉 !

6:02:53 … a frustrating time but it is still nearly 2 hours off our previous personal best so I refuse to be disheartened about it.  The race director Neil personally shakes everyone’s hands and congratulates us which is another little touch that makes me love this kind of event even more.  Andreas follows a few minutes later and then we head off in search of cake.  My back is bleeding a little from rubbing with my bag but fortuitously it doesn’t sting too much in the shower!  Additionally, I can just about walk normally, which is good, because tomorrow morning Andreas and I are off to Lapland…

One final amazing thing about the XNRG Humanity Direct Amersham 50 K Ultra – XNRG essentially run this event for free for the charity Humanity Direct.  Many people fundraised on top of donating their entry fee, generating a total of £12,000 to help patients in Africa who would otherwise be unable to get critical healthcare.  Really shows how generous people can be! Real people and real lives have genuinely been dramatically improved because of Humanity Direct, XNRG and the runners that day! And that is kind of beautiful.  Well worth it!

Check out the Charity here – https://www.humanitydirect.org/