Category: Short run

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Rain gear engaged

It was raining in a kind of lightweight but persistent way, but after a night of torrential rain I felt that it might be a good morning to test out my new Adidas mud pluggers & make sure that my Gore jacket was still working.  I had only a short window of opportunity this morning, but as I ran off down the road, so my phone beeped and the message ‘I thought you were coming early’  shortened it further.

The new trainers seemed quite comfortable, but as Kurt observed, were a bit clonky on tarmac and slippery on wet wood.  Strangely, despite the rain and overnight downpour, the was no mud at all, but the undergrowth was sodden wet and the routes onto the Common were not at all obvious.  Eventually I braved the stinging nettles and shoulder-high ferns to get through, leaving my wet legs and shorts decorated with hundreds of little seeds.

I ran around the Common once and then another half again so that I could exit more easily and then ran home.  28 minutes, 3.3miles makes just over 7mph which was not bad considering the faffing around getting onto the Common.

My recommendation is not to get run over by a pair of these orange things though… the leaf below was my first casualty!

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A quiche on Friday

6.30am yesterday arrived mid-dream and even though the alarm woke me, it left me unsure for some time how much of the intrigue in my head was real.  I was rising early for a run with the Bok and for once (after consuming my quadspresso) I felt ready for him!

However, 7.30 came and went and with no call to warn of his late arrival, I called him at ten to eight.  It just rang out to voicemail.  Worried, I called back at 8am to be answered by a sleepy voice… just woken up.

Mindful of the time, but not wanting to waste the morning, I went out for a quick run on my own.  Out to the Royal Oak, up through Hundred Acre Wood, back down the magical path and back through to the house.

I managed to maintain the pace that I had run at the track on Tuesday evening for about twenty minutes, delighted at how effective just one training session had been and although my performance tailed off, I was still running well at the end.

En route I got accosted by three boisterous dogs, received a telephone call, which, since it was from John Munn who was a very keen runner himself, I took without stopping, and got rained on, albeit briefly.

I covered a sniff under 6 miles in a mere 48 minutes… just under 7.5mph.  Based on that, I guess I had better continue with the training, although maybe I should give the more local Burgess Hill club a try to save the additional drive!

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Mid week training

At the suggestion of Ray and Marian at the weekend, I joined the Haywards Heath Harriers for a training session last night.  The weather continued to impress as we completed two jogged laps of the grass track, before Brenda warmed up our office-bound muscles with a series of stretches and jumps.

Dave then started us on the hard work, with press-ups, sit-ups and squat thrusts interspersed with short jogs and sprints.

After another jog, he set us on a pyramid run around the track, with two, four, six, four, two minute race-pace runs, separated by one-minute recovery walks.

Brenda then stretched us out again and we completed a final slow lap of the track before heading for home.

It was a diverse and really friendly bunch of people and the training was sufficiently taxing to feel that I had given my body a good workout, without being exhausted.  The facility there at Whitemans Green is pretty good too and I can recommend the group to any locals who want to improve their running.

For the record, I reckon I ran around 6 km, or 3.75 miles during the evening and I noticed one of the younger lads running home afterwards!  Far too much energy!

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Allarming night’s sleep

I’ve actually had two terrible night’s sleep as I sit and write this, but I wish to ignore last night & talk about the one before.

In amongst the myriad dreams and awakenings, I found myself running down the road with the Bok.  I knew I was dreaming because each time my legs started to hurt, I reminded myself I was still asleep and the pain went away.  Several times he disappeared ahead and each time I remembered my somnolence, pushed harder and caught up again. Quite strange.

The Bok is a very sharp cookie.  For two or three stiles on the trot, I arrived first and on reaching the far side ran off without waiting, giving me a good few yards head-start, which I might add, I need!  He didn’t let me reach the fourth stile first, nor any of the remaining ones, disappearing ahead with more vigour each time!

We headed out past Ote Hall and to the north of Wivelsfield where we found the Llamas above… they were SO funny, their fringes cut in what I can only describe as a very haute couture style… for a humble floor mop.  Each time I see them I remember my disbelief when luscious Debbs first told me they were there.  I know that they are really ole-packhams or something, but pyjama-llamas seem so much more fun!

We dropped into the centre of Wivelsfield and past the school.  The Bok likes to run through the school car-park where the footpath goes, while I favour the oncoming traffic along the road.  I waited until there were some trees separating us and I put in a quick sprint, slowing again by the time he could see me. 

This tactic meant that I arrived just ahead at the start of Hundred Acre Lane, which is a gentle hill that leads out of the village.  Here I reminded myself that I was still laying in bed and since it didn’t hurt, I pushed the pace a little.  About halfway up the hill my ploy was rewarded with an extremely gratifying beep-beep beep-BEEP!  Followed by a duplicate that belied the pain that the Bok was experiencing.

I gave a triumphant cheer… and increased my pace a little, knowing that he had nothing left and arrived at the top of the hill some distance ahead.  Maybe I wasn’t really dreaming… I was hurting now too!

After a short walk of recovery, we swooped down the trails through the wood and along to the industrial estate.  We took the magical path along towards the development site that used to be the sleepy St George’s Retreat, down across the Common and back towards the house.

As we approached the last stretch of road I sensed that the Bok was going to stretch his legs and get his own back and unfortunately I had little sleep left in me.  I pushed as hard as I could and though he was a little ahead at the end, it wasn’t the rout that he (and I) expected!

As we staggered past my neighbour, who looked on in mild amusement, the Bok delivered the statistics from the mighty bok-watch.  7.09 miles in one hour and two minutes.  A Sterling performance, one that he reckons is our fastest, certainly in the near distant past.  Only 6.86mph, but mixed in with a number of short walks were several significant stretches where we were running four minute km’s… he might remind me what the actual number was… you know how difficult it is to remember your dreams once you’ve woken up.

 

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Quickie

It’s a rushing around sort of day today so I will stick to the facts of the matter.

Nick arrived late and changed out of his (still unused?) sparkling clean runners in favour of his old and battered yet still sparkling pair as it looked like it might rain.  There’s a word for people like that, but I can’t think of it right at this moment!

We pretty much duplicated our route from last week except that the first mile or so was interrupted by Nick shaking his watch, exclaiming frustration and making general sounds of disbelief.  I agreed that our moderate pace did not feel like a five minute mile pace and eventually the issue was cleared up.  The watch had decided, of its own accord, to have a kilometer day!  There’s a name for that kind of behaviour!

The rest of the route was pretty uneventful (apart from when Nick tried to kiss a bull… it quite sensibly ran off) and we ended by sprinting down the road to keep the time sub-one-hour.

59 minutes then, covering 6.64 miles.  No rain.  The only mud was on my trainers (how does he do that?).  Good fun had by all!

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A Bok day

This morning dawned bright and slightly cool, but for once I had no problem getting started.  Unlike Nick’s car which was suffering from a garmin-esque loss of battery power.  Not a man to let such a small detail stand in his way, he duly arrived and we set out at a slow pace down the road.

The Bok didn’t get his name for no reason and whilst I have occasionally managed to develop tactics to slow him down to my pace, or unsettle him, he usually figures out what I’m up to.  Alas. 

Except that he’s been tres busy, and the easy way to catch up with his news was to chat during a run.  Why don’t you bring me up to speed, Nick?

Whilst he talked, we headed out to the Royal Oak and up through Hundred Acre Wood where, despite the rain that we’ve had recently, the going was not too muddy.  Not that this was a problem as he was wearing his old trainers again… although he did tease me by showing me his sparkling new ones in his gym bag before we left!

Shame really, because I’m sure that I could have found a lot more mud if he’d been wearing them!

Deep into the wood, it finally dawned on him that he was puffing away between words while I was coasting along uttering ‘uh-huh’ in the appropriate places.  He zipped up and I zipped off ahead for a few minutes before eventually having to stop for, er… a drink of water. 

And some oxygen.

We crossed the Common chased by a herd of bullocks (sorry, that’s a load of bo’ks actually, but it did make him look round sharpish for a moment) and then on through to Wellhouse Lane. 

It was odd that someone had stolen almost all the puddles along the track and had also filled in some of the resulting empty hollows with road aggregate.  As we ran, I tried to figure out whether travellers had done this in preparation for some neat summer quarters, or that the owners had got fed up with someone stealing their puddles.  Either might help to explain the car that was jammed up against the gate, sideways, designed presumably to block all but the most intrepid of entrances.

The front runner changed a couple of times in the valley past the water tower, with the Bok streaming ahead into the dip and me overtaking him up the other side… the real moment of glory (for me) was not that I reached the top first, but that his heart-rate monitor finally cracked under the pressure and emitted a solitary beep-beep-beep-beep, before he gagged it with a deft right-hander.

Despite his heart-rate maxxing out, I am sad to report that it was I who then had to pause for air while the Bok continued ahead.

He graciously paused for me to catch up and I then stayed with him for the sprint up past the station, but he stretched ahead once again for most of the way down the hill the other side. 

Alas for the Bok, my coup-de-grace was the application of some differentiated strategic planning.  We always stop on the same corner, which is what he did.  But I unilaterally decided to move the goalposts right up to the house and by the time he’d twigged that I’d sprinted on past, it was too late and victory (pyrrhic, of course) was mine!

We covered a satisfying 6.7 miles in 59 minutes and celebrated by eating toast with espresso in the garden.

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Mud pluggin’

Well it sure is beautiful out there this morning, like a proper summer morning.  Except that the recent rain has left the place really wet & muddy!

I wasn’t sure how long I would run for as I didn’t have meetings first thing, but I didn’t fancy running on the road again so soon, which meant that I was stuck in the local mud.  I quickly realised it was wetter than Sunday had been.  And there were way more stinging nettles.

I headed out past Ditchling Common and paused to say good morning to Mrs Lew, who probably didn’t recognise me as it’s been such a long time.  I then got stuck into Hundred Acre Wood, which was hilarious with its wall to wall mud.  The contrast of the sunlight filtering through the otherwise dark canopy made it almost impossible to see and I slid along more on guesswork than any rational ability, mud splatting liberally against my calves.

At the other end I crossed the road by the Royal Oak and went past the gorgeous church – it looks more like a very old and private house, which probably means that it’s very old… and not too C of E.  Just past this the path narrows, with barbed wire on one side and with the bushes grown right out on the other side it was quite a squeeze to get down.  Added to which there was a three or four inch deep puddle most of the way along.

My runners were already muddy so I just waded in, emerging at the other end to the sound of squelchsteps, which stayed with me for the next mile or so!

After Ote Hall I headed back the direct way, adding more mud to the backs of my legs and made it home in an hour and four minutes, the route being just over 6 miles.  Washed kit and muddy runners now drying outside in the sun and the mactop has just expressed an interest in my working outside today.  We’ll see.

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Snoozy tromping

When I started my last company, I would quite often feel tired during the day and developed the knack of having forty winks, sitting upright at my desk with my back to the office.  My staff quickly cottoned on to what I was doing and used to fire elastic bands at my head, but they were either too scared or too poor a shot to ever hit me!  Ten or twenty minutes would usually suffice to take the edge off a heavy-eyelid moment and I could then work on with a clear head.

This ability was very useful when commuting on busy trains as I could quickly escape from the journey and I was even able to zone out when standing up.

Thinking my alarm was about to go off, I leapt out of bed an hour early this morning and have been heavy-lidded ever since.  Even running!

My nose took me out around the south-west of the town this morning, running on gravel paths and largely baked-hard mud.  Despite the surface making for a more efficient run, my tiredness made it harder work and I merely tromped along and kept a steady pace.  At the half hour mark I emerged onto a deserted road and had to walk for five minutes, my heart not being completely in it.

From there, rather than be intrepid, I ran straight back through the middle of town, probably scaring the early morning commuters half to death in my shorts.  Despite inclement weather and a more than slight disinterest in running, it was an interesting run as I was able to look at all the lovely houses along the route.

I got back in 52 minutes, a few minutes before the torrential rain started and whilst normally the rain wouldn’t bother me, this morning I was glad… it would have just about finished me off!  I dozed my way through a couple of pieces of toast and a cup of tea and then measured my progress on the map.  6.1 miles.

It really is amazing how you get used to recording slow times when you run cross-country a lot… and surprising when you get back onto a hard surface.  Even including the very slow five minute walk, I managed an average speed of 7mph.  Take the walk out and I had run at 7.7mph.  And I had only been tromping.

No wonder I had to have a snooze at my desk before I started writing this!

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Fading memories

The combination of a particularly busy post-bank-holiday four-day week and the hard-drive on my desktop that decided to fail, meant that I didn’t get to write about the Thursday morning run.  And while your memory might be able to recall things from two days ago, mine seldom can, hence one reason for my writing!  But I’ll do my best.

Nick had forgotten to dry his trainers so he had brought his old (still sparkling clean) pair.  Based on his complaining about them most of the way round (like running with slabs of concrete strapped to his feet, apparently) I reckon they probably went in the bin when he got home.  After he cleaned them up one last time, of course.

Our run took us out past Ote Hall and then off the top of the map (I know, I know) as we crossed Rocky Lane at the sharp corner tunnel and headed back towards the mill ponds.  As we were strapped for time we headed back to Wivelsfield Station, cut up through the wood adjacent to it and made it back in 52 minutes.  Which was the same as last time.  I’m guessing that the distance was about the same too, maybe a little more at 5.5 miles… dunno.

Thankfully there was still enough mud to dirty Nick’s trainers, but the going was otherwise perfect.  In fact, everything was perfect: it was warm but not too warm, gorgeously sunny and Nick’s slabs held him back as I sprinted ahead in the last 100m.

Suffice to say that Completely PC were extremely helpful, enabling me to collect my repaired box at 11.30am this morning, having only dropped it off at nine!

It’s now beautiful outside again, but alas I have to repent for my sins and stay in to catch up with work… oh, and my memories!

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Legs out

It is rare for me to get frustrated by something sufficiently to dis it online, but www.mapmyfitness.com has just spent half an hour winding me up.  I won’t go into all the gory details, but suffice to say that a site designed specifically for runners should have a map with footpaths on it.  This one doesn’t even have a reliable feed to a satellite map.  USELESS!

All I can tell you about yesterday’s run is that it took one hour 20 minutes and was probably longer than 8 miles.

Please can someone remind me to buy the two OS maps I need to see the land to the north of BH so that I never have to return to mapmyfitness?

Anyway, where was I before I was so rudely interrupted?

For the first time this year, my woolen Thurlo’s remained in the drawer, along with my longs and all my lovely cold weather gear.  In their place were Oakley’s, Pearl Izumi shorts and t-shirt and cotton Thurlo’s.  The warm weather had finally arrived.

I had lost track of time sitting relaxing and reading, so I had only a short window of opportunity to run, otherwise I would have sought to match a half marathon distance in lieu of not joining Cliff et al in Worthing (yes guys, I do feel guilty for not making it!).  Setting out, the going was initially hard work, but after twenty minutes or so I relaxed into the pace.

I had intended to stay within the confines of my map, but I get curious sometimes and so I found myself running north from Wivelsfield along the road to Haywards Heath looking for paths off to the right.  There were none, so I ended up on Colwell Lane again, where the mud was still in abundance, before dropping down through the woods and crossing to Spatham Lane… though I have no idea how, for the reasons mentioned above.

From there I ran south into Wivelsfield, straight down through the woods to the Royal Oak and on back to base.  Quite simply a glorious day to run and I look forward to hearing the times from the proper race.