Training this week has been a bit ‘meh’. I’ve only managed to do 2 of my 3 midweek runs due to pressures of work, but reasoned that when the distances missed are so small (about 4 miles) it won’t matter too much. The weekend mileage is a different matter, though, as I’m fairly convinced it’s vital to get the long runs in.
This weekend saw a very important date in our calendar – the annual Otley Beer Festival. We always go to this brilliant event on the Friday evening with a few friends. The evening goes – arrive at beer festival around 6.30, try a few inadvisable sounding beers (see photo below for one of this years), drink lots of nice beers (or in my case, work your way through the cider bar), go for a curry, catch the last bus home. This year the ciders were particularly nice, so I really did wobble my way down to the curry house!
Not wanting to miss my planned long run the following day (18 miles), I came up with a genius idea. We would drive to Otley (about 8 miles away by road), leave the car there with a change of clothes, and then run back to get it on Saturday, via a very circuitous off-road route.
So, I know what you’re thinking – I wake up the next day with a sore head, and have a disastrous run? Not quite! I wake up the next day feeling alright. OK, I have a bit of a headache but it doesn’t feel like a hangover and it’s not enough to stop me running! We set off, first through the woods along the Meanwood Valley Trail and then out to the open fields. By the time we’ve done 5 miles, I am really struggling. I feel like I’m wading through treacle and am very glad indeed that the bull we see in one of the fields isn’t in the mood for a chase (he’s actually a very docile chap and very obliging when it comes to having his photo taken…)
I struggle my way up onto the Chevin behind Otley, feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus. We’ve only done a measly 10 miles but it has taken around 2 and a half hours. Of course, I have a bit of a wobble at this point – thinking how rubbish I am, who am I kidding to think I can run an ultra marathon, blah, blah, blah. We stop at surprise view at the top of the Chevin to work out what to do. We don’t admire the view, as there is none – just thick fog!
I decide to press on, and Matt, being the loyal and gallant husband he is, says he will stick with me. Thankfully there is now quite a lot of downhill running on the road, so at least things are a little easier under foot. But I have to practically drag myself into Otley. I’ve cut the run short by a mile, so in the end cover 17 miles in 4 hours and 10 minutes. By now I’m feeling as if I have been hit by several buses. My chest feels tight and everything aches. Things don’t really improve and by the time we get home I have a temperature and feel well and truly wiped out – this is usually the kind of feeling I get when I’ve run 30 miles, not 17! Then I start coughing, and finally it dawns on me – I’m not well! Bizarrely, this cheers me up a bit as it gives me an excuse for my terrible running performance. Unfortunately, it does mean that my second run of the weekend won’t happen, but it’s probably better to be well than struggle through another run. Hopefully I’ll be back in tip top shape in a few days, but until then I think I’ll stay on the sofa…
diaryofanultrarunner 