Wow. What a few weeks. Dashed to France on a last minute opportunity with Aurelie. Good times were had and caught up with friends and family. Not so good was the realisation (less than one week before race day) my Asics died (through over use I may add). New shoes were purchased (Salomon XT Wings). I was going for Asics again but didn’t have the small fortune that Decathalon were asking for them. I then spent all waking hours in them trying to wear them in. So transfixed in my endeavours that Aurelie finally had enough and told me that I could not wear them to bed!
Spent most of the time in France, driving, looking at houses and eating (alot). Good prep for the calorific hell that running 85 miles causes. We got back late on Thursday and happly discovered that the house was ok and that I had a day off before the race. Could I sleep? Nope. Spent Friday in a tired and nervous daze.
Race day came and Aurelie dropped me, Tony and Quent on a hill in Hertfordshire. Climbing to the top of Ivenhoe Beacon the wind was strong and the view amazing. For the first time in days, I was so calm. The run was fantastic. The three of us chatted and laughed our way over hills, along paths, through woods and across fields. Good banter makes a good distraction. Before long we had run the first couple of hours and then began the run/walk that would take us the 85 miles to the finish.
It was near 10pm when we left Goring (the half way point). We had spent an hour there eating, sorting blisters and taping feet. I arrived at the village hall feeling drained, with heavy legs. In fact my right leg did not want to do the race and was moving in a fashion all of its own. The rest did me good and I took extra meds. I thought that as i was pushing my limits and the leg was playing up, it would help. Help it did. When I left and started the climb out of Goring and Streatley to the rough track of the Ridgeway, I felt alive and strong. However, Tonys right knee was playing up and Quent…well he was suffering from a lack of energy. Joining this ramshackle crew was Johnny Hall, who fitted in immediately and quickly understood the rules of fart football.
It was 4 am and having decided to walk the night stage so as not to break ankles, we had reached a checkpoint. It was at this point that Quent sat down and rested…for an hour. It was debatable whether he would carry on and was particularly difficult to leave him there. We had planned a three amigos’ tribute on crossing the line (leave that to your knowledge of film) and it didn’t seem right parting. However, we could not wait. 15 minutes had passed since arriving and I had to get to the end…cannot raise a million by not finishing.
Tony, Johnny and I set off but Tony’s knee was playing him havoc. Johnny left us as time was getting tight. I have to say that without Johnny, I would have frozen that night. It was so cold and he gave up a jacket which kept me going. Owe you one bro!
Tony and I forged ahead and I demanded that we pick up the pace. We were not going to fail! Tony, in true hero fashion just put the pain in the box and ran. We ran and ran and at 10am we were making great time. However, my right arm was shaking like crazy and I was losing energy. The last 5 miles was a slog and a half….all the way to the finish line.
I cannot describe the feeling crossing the line (actually no line but waling into the social centre in Avebury). It was a mixture and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. I just smiled and smiled. WOW!!!!!!!!!!!! 26 hours of pain and effort and we had arrived. Tony laid on his back and found he could not move. I decided that if i did the same, I too would be stranded and I had yet to meet Aurelie; who was going to meet me at the pub.
Medal on, the greatest pimp walk to the pub and stinking like a pig, I finally met Aurelie. Food was eaten and beer was drunk! Well, you might think that was the end but Tony arrived with him mum and dad, and when there was only 4 minutes left until the deadline for the race, and who should come running down the street but Quent!!!! I managed to hobble to the pub door and cheered him as he loped past. Hero! In fact, everyone who finished that race is a hero in my book.
Huge respect to Tony, Quent and Johnny! Thanks to the Trail Running Association (Anthony – Thank you), Quent’s mum and auntie for providing food, drink and smiles, Johnny’s amazingly understanding wife (whose name I have forgotten) thanks for giving up the spare jacket to a cold stranger, Piers for the great welcome at the finish and everyone else I have forgotten to thank.
Right, a biggie down and more to come. If you haven’t sponsored me yet, please take a moment to visit my justgiving page www.justgiving.com/alex-flynn and donate…even a £1 will do.
Photos
Next up…Henley half with Richard Merry.