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| Yep, that's the best photo from this race, 10 out of 10 for effort! |
When I last wrote about Mum's exploits she was enthusiastically engaged in an activity known to runners as "carb loading", and to the rest of us as "face stuffing like a greedy little piggy". When Mum is busy, she often leaves the news on for me, so I have some
voices to listen to. I am a pup who is very much up on my current
affairs, so I can say with confidence that if a no deal Brexit happens before the bakeries have had time to restock, we better hope that cinamon and raisin bagels and malt loaf are made in the UK, or there is likely to be a national shortage. Mum was definitely very, very good at that part of training.
Sunday was Mum's first big build up race to the main event. Mum was very nervous about running 20 miles. Mum felt weird about this. She's run 20 miles on a number of occasions last year, and indeed farther, but she knew she may have issues with her stomach, and she also knew that she's just not as fit and hasn't done as much training. Mum was excited nervous. That means she talked a lot to people she didn't know before the race. She probably talked very fast and quite a few people "down south" found out an awful lot about Vizlas in general and me in particular, whether they wanted to or not. She asked a nice man to take a photo of her in her Vizsla Rescue vest and proceeded to pose. He asked Mum whether she was sure she wanted the photo with the "men's changing" sign right above her head. She thanked him and moved somewhere more suitable.
So, the race! I have had to let Mum tell me all about this as I was not there. A shame, as I think I could easily run 20 miles even with a poorly shoulder. Therefore, this bit will be boring, and runnery, and should probably come with a health warning.
Bramley 20, on a beautiful sunny but very windy February morning. Mum woke up feeling ill. She'd had a few good days this week and was really hoping that she'd be well on the Sunday. She was not. She'd not felt great going to bed on Saturday and woke up on Sunday with extremely heavy bleeding and a very swollen and sore gut. She knew this didn't bode well and vowed to pace accordingly, and get round the run sensibly in her own time. Then Mum got there, saw the amusingly ironic school crossing sign just by the finish line, got chatting to people, warmed up, and felt excited. Mum loves racing, and this was a race. She would normally relish the idea of a good 20 mile course with a very strong field to race against, and she just got excited. She forgot she was feeling poorly, she forgot she wasn't as fit as she used to be, she forgot that 20 miles is a bloody long way when you haven't been doing those sort of distances lately.
Needless to say Mum remembered all these things during the race. The race was two 10 mile laps. She'd hoped if she'd felt well to complete the race in around 2 hours 35 minutes which she says is a realistic target given her current health and fitness on a good day. Mum did not complete the race in 2 hours 35 minutes. The first lap Mum said was a good mix of effort and enjoyable running. Mum says a race of this length needs to be comfortable for the first half, and pace wise Mum felt she got it right, averaging around 7:50 a mile. The second lap was apparently a horrid mix of too hot, too cold, dehydrated, cramping, desperately hoping for substantial bushes, failing to find them and having to use bramble thickets, and then more cramping and huffing uphill into the wind at the end. Mum says no race resulting in thorns in the arse can be considered an entire success. I had a thorn in my paw once, Mum pulled it out, and made the hurt go away. It wasn't nice though. I wouldn't want to run up a hill with a thorn in my arse.
Mum also said that she wanted to stop at mile 12. It would have been so easy, really really easy, to stop. She knew she wasn't well, she could have got a 20 mile run in another day, a good day, but Mum also knew she'd been trying to get sponsorship for needy gingers based on this race and that gave her what it took to carry on. At mile 16 an excited man ran up to her with two Vizslas to tell her he'd seen her on the first lap, and been back home to get his dogs to cheer her on for the second. Mum almost cried, gave him a wave, and a huge thank you. Mum suspects this man and his two gorgeous hounds got her up the hill at mile 17 without a stop and she would love to say thank you to him.
Mum was so happy and proud to finish, and also surprised at herself for managing to get through the race despite knowing her targets were all gone and she felt like hell. Mum likes to run something called "negative splits" in her longer races and generally does. Bleeding off pace as her body failed her didn't sit well, but with each mile she got nearer the finish and had a little bit more belief she would do it. By mile 18 Mum said she realised that she was actually going to finish, and that gave her the push to pick the pace up again even though she felt poorly, and her legs were hurting and tired. When she saw the finish line she vowed she would sprint over it and she did, just squeezing in at under 2 hours 45, 10 minutes slower than planned, but with no stops other than the necessary ones, and several hundred extra meters run "screwing around in fields looking for cover". Just before the finish line there was a school crossing sign which Mum spotted and photographed on the way in. Mum promised herself she'd give it a high five on the way into the finish. She didn't, but she did give it a "damn right." She was pleased with herself about this.
Mum says this is the worst she has felt for several weeks, and finishing the 20 mile race feeling like that gives her confidence that even if she feels like utter hell on marathon day, she will finish it. She will also, she says, start slower. "Really Mum?" I asked. "Well, maybe Wuffle, but at the very least they have portaloos so I won't be picking bramble bits out my bum." A good point Mum, I said, feeling very pleased with myself for my Dad like pun.
Mum and I have been incredibly grateful for the huge amount of support, moral and financial this week. Mum set out looking to raise the usual £40 or so and that was far exceeded this week. In fact if Mum is being held to her £2 a mile then a significant number of people are getting an IOU and it's going to take her a couple of weeks to catch up. This week is a bit of a cut back week, before the final three week push. She's using her lower running week to build up funds in other ways, pushing sales of home made dog toys and she has even threatened to do some baking!
If you haven't and you can support Vizsla Rescue, then please do, we all appreciate it. It's a fab charity. They do so much for needy gingers. More about that coming up later this week.
There, Mum, I did it, and your boring details made my blog longer than your race!
Sunday was Mum's first big build up race to the main event. Mum was very nervous about running 20 miles. Mum felt weird about this. She's run 20 miles on a number of occasions last year, and indeed farther, but she knew she may have issues with her stomach, and she also knew that she's just not as fit and hasn't done as much training. Mum was excited nervous. That means she talked a lot to people she didn't know before the race. She probably talked very fast and quite a few people "down south" found out an awful lot about Vizlas in general and me in particular, whether they wanted to or not. She asked a nice man to take a photo of her in her Vizsla Rescue vest and proceeded to pose. He asked Mum whether she was sure she wanted the photo with the "men's changing" sign right above her head. She thanked him and moved somewhere more suitable.
So, the race! I have had to let Mum tell me all about this as I was not there. A shame, as I think I could easily run 20 miles even with a poorly shoulder. Therefore, this bit will be boring, and runnery, and should probably come with a health warning.
Bramley 20, on a beautiful sunny but very windy February morning. Mum woke up feeling ill. She'd had a few good days this week and was really hoping that she'd be well on the Sunday. She was not. She'd not felt great going to bed on Saturday and woke up on Sunday with extremely heavy bleeding and a very swollen and sore gut. She knew this didn't bode well and vowed to pace accordingly, and get round the run sensibly in her own time. Then Mum got there, saw the amusingly ironic school crossing sign just by the finish line, got chatting to people, warmed up, and felt excited. Mum loves racing, and this was a race. She would normally relish the idea of a good 20 mile course with a very strong field to race against, and she just got excited. She forgot she was feeling poorly, she forgot she wasn't as fit as she used to be, she forgot that 20 miles is a bloody long way when you haven't been doing those sort of distances lately.
Needless to say Mum remembered all these things during the race. The race was two 10 mile laps. She'd hoped if she'd felt well to complete the race in around 2 hours 35 minutes which she says is a realistic target given her current health and fitness on a good day. Mum did not complete the race in 2 hours 35 minutes. The first lap Mum said was a good mix of effort and enjoyable running. Mum says a race of this length needs to be comfortable for the first half, and pace wise Mum felt she got it right, averaging around 7:50 a mile. The second lap was apparently a horrid mix of too hot, too cold, dehydrated, cramping, desperately hoping for substantial bushes, failing to find them and having to use bramble thickets, and then more cramping and huffing uphill into the wind at the end. Mum says no race resulting in thorns in the arse can be considered an entire success. I had a thorn in my paw once, Mum pulled it out, and made the hurt go away. It wasn't nice though. I wouldn't want to run up a hill with a thorn in my arse.
Mum also said that she wanted to stop at mile 12. It would have been so easy, really really easy, to stop. She knew she wasn't well, she could have got a 20 mile run in another day, a good day, but Mum also knew she'd been trying to get sponsorship for needy gingers based on this race and that gave her what it took to carry on. At mile 16 an excited man ran up to her with two Vizslas to tell her he'd seen her on the first lap, and been back home to get his dogs to cheer her on for the second. Mum almost cried, gave him a wave, and a huge thank you. Mum suspects this man and his two gorgeous hounds got her up the hill at mile 17 without a stop and she would love to say thank you to him.
Mum was so happy and proud to finish, and also surprised at herself for managing to get through the race despite knowing her targets were all gone and she felt like hell. Mum likes to run something called "negative splits" in her longer races and generally does. Bleeding off pace as her body failed her didn't sit well, but with each mile she got nearer the finish and had a little bit more belief she would do it. By mile 18 Mum said she realised that she was actually going to finish, and that gave her the push to pick the pace up again even though she felt poorly, and her legs were hurting and tired. When she saw the finish line she vowed she would sprint over it and she did, just squeezing in at under 2 hours 45, 10 minutes slower than planned, but with no stops other than the necessary ones, and several hundred extra meters run "screwing around in fields looking for cover". Just before the finish line there was a school crossing sign which Mum spotted and photographed on the way in. Mum promised herself she'd give it a high five on the way into the finish. She didn't, but she did give it a "damn right." She was pleased with herself about this.
Mum says this is the worst she has felt for several weeks, and finishing the 20 mile race feeling like that gives her confidence that even if she feels like utter hell on marathon day, she will finish it. She will also, she says, start slower. "Really Mum?" I asked. "Well, maybe Wuffle, but at the very least they have portaloos so I won't be picking bramble bits out my bum." A good point Mum, I said, feeling very pleased with myself for my Dad like pun.
Mum and I have been incredibly grateful for the huge amount of support, moral and financial this week. Mum set out looking to raise the usual £40 or so and that was far exceeded this week. In fact if Mum is being held to her £2 a mile then a significant number of people are getting an IOU and it's going to take her a couple of weeks to catch up. This week is a bit of a cut back week, before the final three week push. She's using her lower running week to build up funds in other ways, pushing sales of home made dog toys and she has even threatened to do some baking!
If you haven't and you can support Vizsla Rescue, then please do, we all appreciate it. It's a fab charity. They do so much for needy gingers. More about that coming up later this week.
There, Mum, I did it, and your boring details made my blog longer than your race!
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