It's been two weeks since I ran my ultra, and had a bit of time to heal, recover and process what I did. It was a strange few days after the event. A bit of an anti climax. I mean, fuck, I ran two marathons back to back, one of which I did with my toe half-hanging off. Yet I felt that it was unfinished business.
That is only the second time I have ever not completed a distance i set out to run. The first time was injury as well that cut me short on a 20km training run. The thing is this was what it was all about. The 100. And I failed to hit that distance.
This does not sit well with me. It;s frustrating more than anything. I had plenty of gas in the tank and absolutely know that I had 100km in my legs. Even with the famed 8km of Chesil beach that awaited me. How do I know this?
Because, only a week later I was in Devon on the same shingle beach that stretches to Sidmouth from Weymouth... and i was running on it! Even with a mangled toe. Even with a blitzed set of legs that were still in recovery. I was running that damn beach for a couple of Km!
I was hitting hills on 3 early morning training runs with only a week's break after what I'd just gone through and still making great times. I know I had that 100km sub 24hr finish in me. I know I'd have blitzed the shingle, even at 85km!
And it fucking sucks to know that my injury got in the way.
There's nothing stranger to see than a runner powering up a 25% incline on a trail bitching and screaming as he goes.
Even the Donkeys at the Donkey Sanctuary I went past thought I was mental.
So what do I do about that?
What do I do about the disappointment? The frustration? The Sadness? The self-criticising? I keep fucking running!
It's funny how life gives you lessons. This was the hill I ran down then up, to the sea and back. Then we hiked our way down there as a family a couple of hours later. My 9 year old son, bless him, was struggling up this hill on the way back, and was giving him some coaching about small steps, zig zag up to cut the angle, and lean into it. He didn't listen, of course. He's 9. But we got to this point, where he was getting really tired and I just said to him to stop for a minute and take a look back. To see how far he'd come already. That he started right down there where the sea was, and now he was all the way up in the sky, and that he needs to be so proud of that. He did that. All on his own. And there was the lesson for me. To look down to the sea in the distance behind us and think that only 6 months earlier I couldn't run a single step, let alone up this hill, and after only 7 days earlier almost losing a toe from running 84k in a day. In just six months I'd gone from nothing and injured, to running the equivalent from Marble Arch to Brighton in a straight line. Or from Charing Cross to Canterbury, Manchester to York or Carlisle to Newcastle as the crow flies. And I too should be proud of that.
And I am. Kind of.
But me being me, at 47 and still heavier than I'd like, have unfinished business. I have more ultra marathons in me. I have the Jurassic Coast 100km still to run. I am looking at another 50-55km run at the end of the summer (need to let the foot heal properly first though) just because I want to keep the momentum and having put all that distance in my legs, I'm loathe to let it all go. It's unlikely I'll get a chance to do the 100 again this year, but that simply means I will be faster, fitter, stronger and wiser next year. Maybe I'll target sub 20 hours next year ;-)
I don't quit easily. Get knocked down 9 times and get up 10. Resilience is what this is all about.
Watch this space. Plenty more lessons to learn, kit to buy, stuff to test, and blogging to come...
Thanks for reading.
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