Ashby 20: done!

Yesterday was the day I have been dreading since I entered last October: the Ashby 20 mile road race. It scared me because it's a properly "serious" race, more so than any of the other races I've participated in to date, and even more than VLM. It has a reputation as a "thoroughly testing route...described as rural and undulating". They weren't kidding about the undulating bit, although I would've used the word "hilly", or - and this was more applicable during the second lap - "mountainous"!! Things weren't helped by the fact I was runner number 13....I'm not hugely superstitious, but I'd rather have another number! (I later saw a man with the number 666, and suddenly 13 seemed pretty good after all!) Despite a questionable build up to the race itself where I was complete and utterly exhausted, and even contemplated pulling out entirely, I rose to the occasion and surpassed even my wildest dreams, and feel like something has clicked inside me at long last. I nailed it!

Dog tired?!

On Thursday I had my PT session as usual, but it was a majorly big effort. As TT said, my legs were not connected to my brain. My brain said "work harder" and my legs said "f*ck off we're doing our best"! I blacked out, I dragged myself through the rest of the day, I felt like hell. The next day my GP said I was exhausted (no surprises there), so apart from doing body balance which was a beautiful stretch out for my tight hips, I vowed to rest up as much as possible and keep fuelling up. Every hour that passed I felt more and more bloated by the mere fact of eating 3 meals in the day. On Saturday I went shopping for some interview clothes and felt so revoltingly huge I sat on the floor of the changing room and started to cry. I completely understand that every 1g of glycogen carries 1kg of water, but when you're so attuned to minuscule changes in your body size, even 1g of weight gain feels like it may as well be a stone. On Saturday night I texted TT and said forget getting a decent time, I'm not sure I'll even start, let alone finish the race. I was still so so tired, felt bloated from fuelling and as a result of that my mood was in my boots and I just wanted to curl up in bed and feel sorry for myself. Then TT replied with what turned out to be the deciding factor in my decision. He told me if I'm that wiped out to just "sack it off". ie he gave me permission to not race. I have no idea if this was reverse psychology or what, but it bloody well put a rocket up me and I decided there and then I wasn't going to quit, I would do the damn race if it killed me.

Number 13....unlucky for some, a charm for me!

AJ, "Ian" and me

Sunday dawned with clear skies and a crisp temperature which held promise of warming up later. I did my usual pre-race rituals of showering, dressing in race gear, fuelling up then checking my kit bag. As soon as the lovely Helen Waterfall arrived, we headed off to Ashby-de-la-Zouch. On arrival it was not very impressive. We were ushered into a school car park then had to walk through the town centre, we were following the people in front, and they were following the people in front of them, but none of us knew where we were actually going! Then we found a field, and there were lots of runners there and a few portaloos, so we reckoned we were in the right spot. It's always hard trying to decide what to wear during a race; the timing chip doesn't afford you the luxury of pausing time to add or remove layers, and this is something that has time and again proven to be crucial in how well I perform. I feel the cold, but I overheat when running, so getting the right balance is vital for my racing success. We met up with Sarah, whom I had planned to run the whole 20 miles with, and we met AJ who recognised me by my RMR buff and NWR vest. Got to love a bit of branding!! In the walk to the start line we (well I say we, but really I should say I...) got busy flirting with a policeman. Well, in my defence, he was lapping up the attention and anything that distracted me from the 20 miles of road ahead of me was alright in my book. Sadly it was one of those situations which remind you you're getting old because the policeman was much younger than me. We then bumped into Ian, the Ashby gorilla! Did I say Ashby is a serious race? It really is, except for the gorilla who runs each year. The previous gorilla, "Tim" has retired, letting "Ian" take his place.

Anyway so before we even got to the start area we heard the klaxon which signalled the start of the race, and we were just herded up this path. At first it was ok, but the speed of the crowd was moving at less than 9 minute miles which is fine over shorter distances, but TT's advice of pacing so I didn't burn out kept echoing in my head, and I knew this would do me no good. The first mile flew by quite quickly, and we passed through Packington waving at the residents and spectators including my husband Larry. I heard one of the spectators describe us as a "stampede of runners", which seemed really accurate because there was no way to break free of the group or slow down at all. Soon we'd hit mile 2 and here things began to spread out a bit more. It was around here when I had a massive attack of the gremlins, and turned round to Sarah and said I couldn't do it. I think it shocked her a bit but she tried to convince me to keep going, and I trotted on, not sure what would be worse; having to walk the 2 miles back to the start or keep going. I wanted to cry. The exhaustion of the previous week suddenly came up and smothered me, along with fear of, not just would I manage 20 miles or nor, but would I manage it in a time I was happy with or would it be yet another race where I felt like rubbish afterwards. Helen and AJ had gone on ahead, and I had that familiar race feeling of being left behind again.

This internal battle went on for probably a few minutes, but it felt like so much longer. Then suddenly something in me clicked, the stubborn, don't-give-up bit of me, and I decided I would bloody well throw everything at this race, so on we went. After a couple more miles I began to relax into the running, and actually felt ok. The water stations were good. The first time I went past one I grabbed one of the cups on offer, but the subsequent times I asked for a bottle, because that first time told me you either walk with a cup or end up wearing the water! If the stations offered gels along with the water I took one, and that kept me going for a decent length of time. On and on we went like that, not talking much but running in companionable silence, occasionally pointing something out to each other, or commenting on our time. The complete lack of toilets throughout the whole route led me to do a running first: I peed outside! It was amazingly liberating, thank goodness for so many farms and fields! Lots of us were dashing off into fields to relieve the pressure on our bladders, and this is one of the down points of the race, only 2 portaloos were there on the course to serve 1200 runners.

Soon we'd started the second lap and paused for 6 minutes so Sarah could use a portaloo. This was the beginning of my issues. When we started running again I realised my hip flexors had massively tightened up during those 6 minutes, and running was getting increasingly painful. We kept going though and I was thrilled to get to 13.1 miles in 10 minutes faster than I had managed the preceding Sunday at Silverstone. I tried to drink and fuel at every station we passed, as we were both beginning to really fatigue. By mile 16 I think I hit "The Wall". My body felt completely depleted, I decided I'd like to call it a day and finish at that point. I was just so tired and my hips and knees were screaming at me. I can't really remember how we got through the next few miles, except that I do remember that when I needed encouraging along, Sarah got behind me, and when she needed help, I kept her going. I started counting my steps, all the way up to 100 over and over again. I thought about my children, how I wanted to be a good role model to them of conquering something that seems too big for you and succeeding. I thought of Larry who has always supported me in my running, from celebrating my first 1km run all the way to the London Marathon. I thought of TT who has always believed I have what it takes to be a good runner, and has shown endless patience and support when I've wobbled. And then all my friends and family who have never tired of my endless Facebook statuses about my achievements, my fears, my celebrations.

I love this time!

Then suddenly we were at the last 400m. Sarah called for me to go for it, to sprint ahead and finish in my usual style, and my god did I try, but my body had very little left by that point. I ran as quickly as I could to the finish line, then suddenly it was all done. I'd finished Ashby 20 in less than 4 hours, 3 hours 53 mins to be precise.

My legs threatened to go on me at that point so I dropped down to a crouch before I fell, then discovered I couldn't stand up again. My vision was blurring and I was getting that sensation of things being further away from me than they were. A couple of paramedics helped me onto a chair, and one of them gave me another gel to get my sugar levels up. I soon felt a lot better, and eagerly queued up for the famous Ashby hoodie. I have never worked so hard for a hoodie in my life before!

I did it!!!!!

The rest of yesterday was a bit of an anticlimax. It took me a very long time to walk to the car as my legs were murder by then, and after my shower then ice bath I was fit for nothing, and was in bed asleep before my 5 year old son at 7.30pm!

But today was a different matter. I gave myself the day off training and met Helen for a coffee instead, then had TT give my legs a going over in an attempt to revive them a bit. It tickled me to see that both me and Helen were proudly wearing our hoodies; I wonder how many other people wore theirs too! Although my legs felt heavier today, my spirits felt lighter. Twice in 2 weeks I have shown I can perform well in races. Ok not as fast as many, but for someone who has only been running for a year, to run something as hardcore as Ashby 20 in under 4 hours is a massive achievement. I feel like I'm capable of more than I have previously believed, like I'm actually an ok runner, almost decent. Having Sarah with me helped too, as she was strong for me when I couldn't be, and when I needed to be strong for her it bolstered my own strength. 

So, 5 weeks until VLM. I say a few hard weeks where I'll ramp up the training intensity, then VLM? Bring. It. On!