Eight weeks to go. The training is progressing though sometimes it feels like really hard work. I've been going through these gates a lot recently. But are they the gates of heaven or hell? Going one way leads through into the deer park. Past the church and the obelisk. It can lead to a wonderful world of antlered deer stags, ice houses, world heritage, buzzards, the foothills of the dales, and a cafe with scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam. Heaven on earth. But it also leads to a very long mile uphill - the 'Studley Mile', up to it's very own Barkley gate at the top which I have to touch to complete a strength sapping speed interval. Eight minutes of hell doing each hill effort. Only to have to turn around and repeat, again and again. Or onwards through those gates at the top to do another 23 miles to complete a back-to-back-marathon-long-slow-trails-weekend. The thought of doing it is daunting. Going the other way through the gate is usually good. It'...
I think of Wanda as I wander. I wonder whether walking really works wonders for wishes, or whether wishing whilst walking really is the real wonder. I ponder what would Wanda wonder? More on Wanda, whoever she is, later.
Whether it's walking or running, my wish does seem to be coming true. I've been spending more time on my feet, getting the miles in, whilst still doing hill repeats, strength and speed work. The long sessions have increased week on week, with my latest venture being 22 miles, after which I felt remarkably OK. Plenty of time to wonder whilst wandering. These long routes have been a mixture of running on the flat and downhills, and marching up the hills, getting the right ratio of elevation gained to distance for the hardest days on my petit LEJOG. All with a focus on enjoyment, whilst using my muppet poles of course, and keeping within the cut-off pace for LEJOG. I managed 141 running miles in January and my knee seems to be holding up. I'm definitely feeling more positive than ever that I'll be on the start line in just under 4 months time. Just need to build up more time on my feet so I can do that sort of mileage in 4 days, not 4 weeks!
These long runs, as well as increasing my endurance, are giving me the opportunity to test out my equipment and routines. Things like which pockets in my running pack to use for which things; how to unclip my poles off my hands at a gate without breaking my stride; what pace can I sustain whilst preserving my legs; and what foods to eat. All the things I wanted to do last year but am now having to compress into these last few months.
They're also testing my resolve. Reaching quit points and going through them means the next quit point is further. Think of it as stretching a piece of elastic. Well, I had two dramas to deal with on this last endeavour that both stretched the elastic a little.
Treemageddon started as I was passing through a forest. The path was blocked by some fallen trees. I tried to get around but just got deeper and deeper into fallen debris post Storm Éowyn. Over and under the lying trunks, sometimes needing to climb 10ft high, falling between them into the abyss of branches a couple of times, thankfully not twisting anything or getting impaled. Forty five minutes later I emerged the other side.
Marmitegate started a bit later when I reached into my side pocket in my running pack to see the rolled wraps I'd previously laced with marmite oozing through the paper sandwich bag I'd wrapped them in. I was testing out a carbohydrate and salty combination to see how my stomach would cope. My ultra pack, and therefore me, was sticky and smelly for the rest of the journey. The stomach coped and I got my energy top up. But I'll wrap them in something more secure next time. I'm not sure marmitegate counts as a quit point, but it certainly was messy and avoidable.
Why the wandering tongue twister at the start of this blog and who the hell is Wanda? Well I'm pretty sure as I was out and about last week, that I came across someone looking for a fish called Wanda. It was Michael Palin. Out for a walk, taking in the view from the Cleveland Way. I'm not entirely sure that he'd find a fish up there, or indeed whether it actually was him, only I convinced myself it was as our eyes briefly connected. That was enough though to set my mind off pondering what Wanda was wondering for the rest of my wander. As the wild wet wind whooshed, the distraction was wonderful.
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