Definitely in the mind?!?

Definitely in the mind...... 08-Feb-2011

Atacama Crossing (Chile) 2011

Crikey, I’m getting into this blogging (double G?) lark!

Fri 4th Feb 2011 @ approx 4 pm:
‘I’m going to prescribe you a course of strong antibiotics, go home and take it easy for a few days’. Said the good Doctor.
‘Is running 66 miles over the next 48 hours taking it easy?’ I replied.
Doctor stared back at me………… (I think she thought I was joking)……silence……..
‘Oh, well you see, the thing is, I am supposed to be running in a 66 mile race this weekend and I really need………..’
‘Look, try to take 4 capsules between now and when you’re due to start, they’re pretty strong, and see how you feel. Totally your call but………’
‘Great, super, many thanks for your time……’. I was gone, out the door before she could change her mind!
Now, I’d been suffering from a very swollen and sore eye for 2 weeks. Against much encouragement from various people I decided that I’ll just sit it out, avoid medical advice and wait for it to just go away. You see my problem is that I am happy to listen to the experts (whether it be medical, financial, physio……etc) but generally speaking I just ignore whatever advice they provide and so what is the point in wasting anyone's time and listening in the first place. One of my many weaknesses you see. By Thursday last week the soreness and swelling was just about reaching the point of intolerability (have I made that word up?!?) I had been to Moorfields eye hospital (London. No big deal – I had been told to go there by a Nurse at the NHS walk in clinic next to where I work) the day before and told that I had an eye infection and blocked glands. I was also informed that the fluid in the glands had probably turned to fat and would be there to stay unless I get it cut out. Great!
So having been prescribed 2 separate lots of antibiotics in 24 hours, I was out of the Doctor’s surgery, into the pharmacist to collect the capsules and then straight to the gym to hit the treadmill. I know, I know, darn foolish……I know. I felt there was only one way of finding out just how bad I felt - run. So after 3 miles (ish) at a steady pace I was drenched in sweat and decided that enough was enough……shower and home.
So, after feeding (bottle – my boobs don’t produce milk!) our baby at 11pm I went to bed. A very restless night, kept waking up, going to the loo and then lying in darkness asking myself whether I was ill…..or not? Oliver woke at 4 am, Charlie then woke at 6 am. At 6.15am my wife asked me whether I was well enough to run. ‘There is only one way of finding out isn’t there…….’. I’d gone, out the door and on my way to the train station to catch the first train to Farnham, before she could talk me out of it.
Based on my projected finish time (the organisers had requested each runner state their projected time so they could stagger the starts to manage checkpoints etc), I found myself at the start line with the top (supposedly quickest) 30 runners. As you can imagine there was a lot of start line chat – ‘you done this before?, what’s your best time?, you training for something………..?
‘No, er haven't got one, yeah', were my three responses in that order.
'10, 9, 8.............2, 1....Go. Enjoy the run!' Whatever. We were off at what felt like 10k pace.
Once we were off the country lane, over a stile and into fields, the pace settled. I found myself with a pack of 5 runners a little off the lead pack pace. It seemed comfortable enough at the time. The first checkpoint (approx 8 miles) seemed to come round quickly, too quickly. The pack I was with were in and out and away in no time. I had to stop and fill my water bottles. I started the race empty so I had to get some fluid on board asap. The chap at the checkpoint asked me if I was ok. 'Fresh!' (Hmmmmmm) I responded and off I went to catch up the other runners in my little sub group.
Now, I thought it was a strange question to ask a runner after only 8 miles of a 66 mile race. Curiosity got the better of me, so as I caught the other runners up I asked one of them (which I knew was probably the worst thing to do) how I looked - honestly. 'Er, well, I'm sure you're fine but.........'. I then noticed that I was drenched in sweat. Now, it could have been the antibiotics, the infection, a fever or just an uptick in the temperature and the rather hilly start to the course. The sweat going into my infected eye was stinging like hell and it was quite an effort to keep it open enough to navigate the course. Now is not the time to panic I thought. I didn't feel too bad, yes my breathing was slightly more laboured than normal but the course was tough (I'd been warned). However, I was comfortable with the pace. 'Ian, just get on with it, stop thinking about it, you're fine, stop moaning, there is only one way of finding out if you're ill and that is to run. It's all in the mind.......it's all in the mind......' I kept saying to myself over and over and over again.......Boring! So, I ploughed on.
The course was a great test for me. I live in London so most of my training is on the flat. This was the North Downs Way - undulating to say the least. At mile 22 (ish) we hit Box Hill. Now, I'd heard a lot about Box Hill from cyclist friends who use it as an area for hill training. We had to ascend up the side of it - the walking/lung busting climbing route as opposed to the road route. Now, Box Hill ain't no mountain but it sure is a short (ish) - some would say longish. But us Brits/English aren't used to anything other than a mound - sharp shock and with 22 miles already in the legs I was a tad wobbly to say the least. Now I was really sweating!
The remaining 10 miles continued to be hard going both in terrain and weather (very windy) and wasn't helped by me taking a wrong turn and shooting down a very steep hill for 1/2 mile or so. Fortunately, I realised at the bottom when the course opened up, that I must have taken a wrong turn back in the woods as I couldn't see any other runners across the open fields in front of me. Unfortunately, it meant I had to turn around and climb the hill I'd just descended! Lovely!
I crossed the finish line/half way line in 5 hours 29 mins (I've just checked the official results) which put me 15th out of a starting field of 150 ish - I think. I was shattered and felt very sick but pretty pleased with my effort.
'Please tell me you're not going to run the second stage' Sophie (wife) asked/told me at the end of day 1.
'Well, at the very least I am going to make it to the start line'. I said.
So, I found myself standing at the start line, backpack loaded, bottles full this time, a tad stiff (but weren't we all) and ready (kind of) for the off. As I had been warned by the race organisers that the course was tough and the last 10 miles were very tough I figured that the return journey (along the same course) must be easy and the first 10 miles very easy. If you catch my drift.
No............. it wasn't!
Well, all I can say was it was a great experience. I met some lovely people and learned a hell of a lot about Ultra running and most importantly myself. I just wanted to get it over and done with and get home. Rather foolishly I ran through every checkpoint (shouting out my number for the split times) and didn't eat. With 8 miles to go I was on for 5.15 hr time. Too easy I thought. Well, the Ultra Gods heard me and punished me - good on em. With 4 miles to go I lost the plot and staggered home in 5.36. Gutted. My own fault. All learning. I was only 5 mins outside breaking 11 hours for the course. Going the wrong way on day one is/was all part of the game, it's what Ultra trail running is all about. BUT, not eating and drinking is just plain stupid! I had mixed emotions. I was angry with myself but elated that I'd finished in a pretty good time. I felt ill, sick, hungry but couldn't eat, cold and utterly ruined. I got the train back to London and was greeted at home by the best wife in the world (well, in my world anyway) and 2 amazing fit and healthy children. Charlie shouted Dah da da (I think that means Dad?!) as I walked in through the front door and Oliver gurgled. I gave Oliver my medal (Charlie got the last one), bathed them, gave Charlie his milk, read bedtime stories and put them to bed/cot. I could have run another 33 miles there and then!
Monday morning I went back to the Doctors, welcomed with a tut tut, and was given Hep A, Hep B and Typhoid injections and more antibiotics. You can imagine how fresh I feel now!!
Oh, in case you're bothered. I held my race position and finished 16th in 11:05:26.