0-82 in 7 weeks...

Posted on: 17 Aug 2018

0-82 in 7 weeks sounds like something my lush Landy would be able to just about achieve (well, maybe not 82mph, but certainly the 7 weeks bit!).

It’s also the challenge that I have ahead of me too.  Yep, 7 weeks today, I will be running (walking, crawling) the 1st of 3 marathons in 3 days, the Atlantic Coast Challenge.  I was supposed to do it last year, but injury and a lack of training meant that I had no chance.  So, I deferred.

If I’m honest, I’m in a pretty similar boat this year.  The wonderful summer and the World Cup have been splendid of course.  But not for your man, who can resist anything but temptation; too much cold lager in the fridge, too many opportunities to drink it.  So, every run that I had in June and July (and they weren’t as frequent or as long as they should have been - 30 degree heat saw to that!) was always celebrated in the cooling arms of young Stella…

And what of August?  Ah, well more splendid times in wonderful South Africa meant that by the start of this week, I had accumulated the princely total of 13 miles…

I’ve bettered that now, of course, thank the Lord.  Over the last three days, I have hauled my sorry arse around 25 miles of the ‘shire.  I guess my plan is to get up to something close to match fitness by ensuring I am doing back to backs every week.  I figure I have 6 weeks (max) of training; that would allow me a slightly spartan one week of tapering – I’d rather have two, but I don’t think I can afford it!

Yesterday and today, then, were both 10 milers.  I know that I should be doing more, but I just can’t yet.  Yesterday was a favourite of mine normally; a loop that takes me from Hawkesbury to Tresham and back.  It follows some of the Monarch Way and some of the good old Cotswold Way.  Lumpy would be a word I would always use to describe it.  Beautiful is another – it really showcases all that I love about trail running.  Other words that sprung to mind yesterday would be brutal (honestly, when did my legs become concrete; at the same time as my tummy came flabby from too much cold stuff I’m guessing…) and, of course given the time of year, scary (yep, those Friesian assassins were out in force, quietly chewing the cud as they worked out how best to outflank me and take me down for grazing on so many of their Boer brethren…).

Today was a flatter 10 miler.  I ran across the Duke’s lands – in part, I wanted to check out the Tough Mudder course that’s been set up there; not to enter, of course, no way is T Rex arms here ever doing one of those bad boys.  I just wanted to see how tortuous the course looked.  Well, let’s jjst say I’d rather take my chances with fields of Friesians…

Through both runs, I told myself that times didn’t matter.  The only time that was important was the time on my feet.  Miles in the bank.  Of course, that didn’t stop old Victor here moaning to himself – literally, it was a case of “I don’t believe it” at times.  Is this really the man who did the GU36 and was actually pleased with himself?

Well, yes, I am that man.  I know that I still have the running capability in me.  It’ll take some finding, but I am keen to re-acquaint myself with it. 

So, time to set the stall out.  I have been away too long, from running and blogging.  I apologise to myself for the first, and to you for the second.  As the good Dr.Seuss would tell me, I decide where I go from here.  Well, all roads for now lead to magical Kernow; what a route, Padstow to Land’s End.  I want to do myself justice.  Of course I have a time in mind, and I shall put it in print now.

I have to be ready to do 0-82 in 7 weeks’ time.  Once I start, I want to be finished inside 20 hours….

By our deeds we are known.

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