I would have finished the Richmond Park Marathon by now. Instead, I am mooching around my flat, having not run a mile, my thoughts drifting forward to a fortnight’s time when I will be – all being well – embroiled in an attempt on the Bob Graham round. I had to pull out of today’s…
Author: heightsofmadness
Bob Graham: 16 days to go – if there was ever a time NOT to be injured…
‘I have never heard anyone scream so loud…’ That was the physio talking. ‘Your legs are very stiff,’ she said, stressing the very, as she played a piano of wretchedly painful tendons behind my knee. I bellowed again, caught my breath and, ironically, couldn’t help but laugh at the torture. I have been living in fear all week,…
Midweek racing at the Beckenham relays
There’s something about a midweek race. There’s a certain pleasure, I feel, to finishing a day of work, then heading off, not simply to run, but to race. On my way to the Beckenham 2.6-mile relays, I mulled over the midweek races I’d taken part in: the Bugatti 10k over a couple of years in…
Post-Fellsman: checking my legs still work
My legs still work. I’ve just checked: a 45-minute trot on muddy trails and around playing fields in the London drizzle. I even managed to wander up a few minor hills with relative ease. Everything – joyously – is intact. For all its hardness, the Fellsman did not destroy me. The pleasure from being uninjured and…
Surviving the Fellsman
The Fellsman has redefined what I understand about running. I have run ‘properly’ since I was a teenager, from the middle distance races I ran as a schoolboy and the road half-marathons and marathons of my 20s, to the gradual transition to fell, hill, mountain and trail, and now, ultras. Over the years, I’ve often…
The unfathomable miles of the Fellsman
I’ve been asked a few times recently whether I ran ‘the marathon’ or, prior to Sunday, whether I was running ‘the marathon’. ‘The marathon’ is, of course, the Virgin London Marathon. Because that’s the only marathon, isn’t it? When asked, I’ve said ‘no’. Not because I am now running scared of fast races on roads,…
Cioch Mhor hill race 2012
A 10-day visit to the Scottish Highlands happened to coincide with the date of one my favourite hill races, Cioch Mhor. At least that’s what I told my wife. Organised by Highland Hill Runners, the 14km race starts at Tulloch Castle above Dingwall, before ascending to the trig pillar atop Cnoc a’Bhreacaich and then Cioch Mhor, a 482-metre pap dwarfed…
The psychology of the long-distance run
I ran 33 miles on Monday. I have never walked or ran further on a single day before. The run was three miles longer than my Winter Tanners in January, but – taking 5 hours and 20 minutes – lasted an hour longer. My transition to ultra-running hasn’t been seamless; it has required a whole…
Another Bob Graham recce: 11 hours, 13 summits, 35 miles
My body aches. It aches in a way that only two days of Bob Graham recce can induce. My quads ache. My thighs ache. Even my arms ache. But, to corrupt that hackneyed saying: 11 hours and 35 miles on the Lakeland fells will make me stronger. Apart from the inevitable ache, the consequences of…
Bob Graham: three months and counting…
I intend to give this Bob Graham round malarkey a crack in early-June. The Queen’s Diamond Jubilee weekend seems an appropriate juncture. That’s less than three months away. Time is ticking dangerously fast. I’m not ready. Of course, I’m not ready. I’ll never be truly ready. Just as ready as I can be. Having said…
Mallorca: the running bit
Squeezing two runs into a three-day ‘holiday’ when you’ve already cycled close to 125 miles isn’t an ideal situation. Needs must, though – a need that is a looming Bob Graham round. It was dark when I set off along the promenade from Chez Cockroach towards Alcudia. I ran for 15 minutes, the lights of…
Mallorca: the cycling bit
I didn’t want to go to Mallorca. I wanted to go to Tenerife. I wanted to go to Tenerife to climb 3718-metre Pico de Teide, and thus have stood on the highest slab of ground in Spain. I was overruled. We went to Mallorca. As I said, I didn’t want to go Mallorca. When I…
Heights of Madness 