Good Friday vs Evil Saturday
29&30/03/13
There is something appealing about a
high intensity workout on a Friday evening that gets me out the door
when the thought of a low intensity 10 miler would have me feeling
lacklustre and I'd probably end up dicking about on facebook until
dinner, and oops I've missed another run.
It was a low mileage week as I've been
doing long days on a huge work project that has left little in the
way of time or energy for running. So I wasn't looking forward to
Friday evening's obligatory run until Mary outlined three x 1 mile
reps up the steepest part of the Queens Drive from St. Margaret's
Loch, past Dunsapie at the top. A mile and a half warm-up to get
there, then 3 mile reps with a jog recovery back to the start of each
makes 9 miles and sufficiently full on not to notice the miles shoot
by. Sounded good.
The mile and a half there warmed us up
and I had to rein in the speed on the first climb aiming for negative
splits: each mile quicker. I hadn't worn a Garmin which was my
undoing. Mary told me the mile finished around the top of the steps
(down to Duddingston) at the far end of Dunsapie. We should tempo
pace up the snakey road then raise it to a sprint once onto the flat
round the loch side.
Wasn't going this fast.
6 minutes to the level then another 2mins to the steps. While I waited on Mary I took some
photos. I was trying to find a long exposure setting (it was almost
pitch black) on the compact so wasn't paying close attention to the
road. Then I took some more photos and realised I was getting cold –
Mary couldn't have taken this long surely. Was it possible she had
arrived and turned early (7.54 minutes is a l-o-n-g mile even with
all that uphill). But she would let me know wouldn't she? Maybe she
stopped for a pee. Lots of things went through my mind as I ran back
the mile to the start trying not to panic. Near the bottom and here
comes madam on her second interval and she complains because I
interrupt her to ask why she wasn't murdered in the bushes. I think
she saw me at the top but assumed I was busy taking photos and would
catch her up.
Not a good start but things improved. I
tried NOT to use all of the available adrenaline and shortness of
temper in the second interval, reaching the steps in 7.45 which are
about 80 yards beyond where the Garmin mile ended and Mary turned.
Which explained how she had ducked under my radar.
Third mile and I gave it everything
which cleared out any remaining resentment and ideas of heading home
without waiting on Mary since she so enjoyed her independence. (7.28) I
walked back round the loch as she scooted along the last stretch of
her final mile. She came back to suggest if we continued round we
would take the mileage up to 10 so that we did, stopping off at
Scotmid on the way home for a bottle of Les Crouzes currently £4.99 and tasting better than many a bottle twice that
price.
Fidra at top, deer below
Saturday (warning: not for the squeamish)
Started well with the sun peeking out
from the blanket of clouds that has been around all week. The wind
direction hadn't changed much from last weekend but because it was
reduced to a very light breeze Mary suggested we do an E2NB following
trails and beaches from Aberlady and making 27 miles or so. All going
well we could join team Porty for the road version on Sunday.
Mary looking/feeling iffy.
As we were leaving Mary had a twinge in
her tummy and mentioned things being not quite right. A mile into it
she was feeling worse. Not an auspicious start to a 26 miler. I said
we should run to 3 miles and if she hadn't thrown off the bad
feelings should return home. At the Bowling Club she was no better
and decided after a pause and consideration to return home. I texted AGH to see if she was up for a few miles for company. I also found I
had to take an unexpected break at the Joppa public toilets. The
signs were there but I was too busy anticipating the forecast sunny
skies and good running down the coast.
I had worn the Garmin for this run.
Every now and then I would check to see how my pace was. Without Mary
along I thought I might try a faster pace but found if I didn't
consciously raise my game my pace slipped back to the sort of speed I
would go if running with Mary. There's no way you can push it over
26 miles and expect not to suffer later so I carried on at a
leisurely rate putting it down to the hard week at work, the session
the night before and the cold headwind. Although it was a light
breeze it was Baltic cold and I could feel it giving me a chill on my
front. As ever I focussed on the positives and ignored all the bad
omens.
AGH texted to say she hadn't been
running this week so wouldn't be joining me. Unspecified illness. So
it was going to be a solo jaunt. Just after Porto Setonia I ducked
off onto the sandy trails between the beach and pavement and enjoyed
the familiar routes through the Bents car parks and the magic forest. The
trails continually improve from this point out making this direction preferable, however there are still 16 miles to Aberlady, (17 to
the bridge,) and its only then that you leave the road behind for the
finest 9 miles. The weather though cold was brightening. I called
into the Londis shop but the coffee machine was still broken. I
reluctantly bought a cold caffeine drink from the fridge. I had a
brief stop to eat a Pain au Chocolat, drink my miserably cold drink,
and eat a Star Bar. I ran on at a jog – difficult to get fired up
again – and waited for the energy drink to kick in. It never really
did and I had to admit I wasn't having a good run. The tide was as
high as I've seen it at the wooden bridge and again once I got over
to the beach it was nearly touching the “Footpath” signpost just
beyond the dunes.
I was trying to enjoy the visuals and
was taking loads of photos but I couldn't get rid of the chill in the
top of my stomach. Around Gullane point I put on my rain jacket to
cut the windchill. I had 3 thin layers below it and although gloves
and hat and earband were keeping the extremities warm my core felt
dangerously chilly. Everyone else I passed (and there weren't many)
was wrapped in heavy coats and long warm trousers. (I had tights in
my backpack but was saving them for the train home.)
One-legged Oyster Catchers
Getting to Gullane car park I decided
to throw in the towel. I was tired and every time I stopped for a
photo I found I preferred walking to running.
Only the thought of a long hike to the
road, a stand at the bus stop in the cold, then an hour or more on a
slow cold bus was so unappealing, I found myself drifting out the
other side of the car park and into the dune trails thinking it was a
quicker route home via North Berwick train station. I was glad the
jacket obscured Mr Garmin and I could no longer see what pitiful pace
I was doing. I was now feeling mighty strange and jogging/walking
where ever the trail led. I had a vague notion to go through the
woods as they would cut the wind. Also the tide was still very high
making some of the beach trails unmanageable.
2 deer - unconcerned
Earth Stars - not the prettiest of fungi
I was still trying to be positive.
Usually in an ultra you will have bad moments. Here was a whole heap
of bad moments and therefore good training in the “toughen the
f**k up” stakes. And the surroundings were so familiar that I
felt I was amongst friends in a favourite part of the world. I came
round a corner to see a couple of deer. They looked quizzically and I
heard them decide that I was definitely not a threat, and that as
soon as I had dropped dead they would search my corpse for sports
bars. Earlier a cluster of Oyster Catchers in a huddle by the shore
looked up as I stumbled past. They kept half and eye on me but I
could see that they were all hopping weirdly on one leg as they
didn't think I merited a two legged retreat.
Marine Villa and I was pleased I was
hitting the beach just at the right point – the tide was receding
sufficiently to let me get past without having to hobble over the
rocks. 20 minutes later and the sun would be disappearing behind a
bank of cloud down at the horizon. What time was it? I reckoned
possibly 4.30 so was mildly appalled to pull back the jacket sleeve
and reveal 6pm. We set off before 1.30. I was trying to remember what
time the trains were and figured at this pace I might catch the 7.21
if I didn't have too many walk breaks. I was thinking it was 27 miles
(I had done 22.5 by 6pm.) However my addled head forgot the last mile
was down home from Waverley.
After Yellow Craigs I stopped to walk
and had to gather myself as I nearly threw up right there on the
beach. The top of my stomach was now a substantial ache although I
hadn't eaten anything in ages. I put it down to the cold headwind and
knew that if I took much longer it would get dark which wouldn't
improve things. There is a terminally long beach with high dunes on
the right before a bridge across the stream at the golf course. I
noticed a jump-able section of stream which saved the normal 100 yard
detour over the bridge and was very grateful, though the effort of
the jump nearly forced me to stop and walk.
As soon as the edge of North Berwick
appeared I took the shortest line across the golf course. We normally
run along to the traditional finish on the putting green but today it
was straightest possible line to the station. I crossed the main road
and finally looked at my watch – I had been putting this off in
case I left myself with an unlikely sprint over the last mile; it was
not a day for sprinting. I was expecting 7.15 and so it took my eyes
a while to work out what 6.40 was doing on my watch. When I got to
the platform there was a small crowd waiting on the 6.51. I ran till
the Garmin bleeped 26 miles then stopped, and wondered why the usual
relief at stopping failed to materialise. As I stretched I almost
felt worse. Getting onto the train I tried to sit far away from the
Saturday revellers and folk talking loudly on mobiles. Everything
seemed to be annoying. I even had an ache in my camera arm. I have
run with the camera for 30 miles before and it has never caused my
arm to ache. Still oblivious, but the evidence was now all there.
I texted Mary to say I was on the train
and she texted back to say she was really sick. As it sunk in this
might be more than just a bad day's run I could feel the rising
nausea. I looked along the carriages to see if I could see a toilet.
None. I could imagine sprinting down the corridor spraying the
carriage with... and reached into the backpack to remove a freezer
bag only just having time to remove the contents before I bent double
behind the seat and filled it up like pulling a pint. Four or five
power heaves later and I wondered what was going to happen when the
contents, my contents, became greater than the volume of the bag. I
stopped before that happened but had to carry my bag of toxic
bio-hazzard off the train and through the station like a terrorist.
Luckily its all downhill from the station and after I had sourced a
drain and nearby litter-bin I jogged the last mile.
toxic bio-hazard
After a quick shower I joined Mary in
bed (8pm) and we compared horror stories. (She had had it much worse than
I did, having regular occasions to empty herself.) I drank a 2lt
bottle of water and by 2am had the strength to eat a bowl of cereal.
I realised I probably wouldn't make the Porty E2NB run at 9am.
Norovirus
infection is characterized by nausea, forceful vomiting, watery
diarrhoea, and abdominal pain, and in some cases, loss of taste.
General lethargy, weakness, muscle aches, headache, coughs, and
low-grade fever may occur. The disease is usually self-limiting, and
severe illness is rare.
Tough as nails Peter! Semi glad I wasn't well enough for this particular adventure.
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