I read the term 'Type 2 fun' first in Damian Hall's book, "In it for the Long Run" (recommended) and it stuck with me. It reminded me of the part of the Coast to Coast walk I did with Kate years ago or bits of uncomfortable travelling like overnight sleeper trains in China.
Type 2 fun is any activity which is fun before you start doing it and fun once you've finished on reflection - but during the activity the fun is a bit hit and miss and seemingly more miss the longer the activity goes on.
Anyways,
I thought that the best way of running my first marathon race would be to run a distance longer than a marathon with over 1000m of elevation. I can even remember suggesting it last year to someone well before I'd ran my first half marathon. It is so very much against character for someone who is sometimes at best pessimistic.
It's not that I wasn't prepared - I was. I've become strict with my training runs and getting the mileage in and I'm a little compulsive about it. This time last year I ran a couple of 5km jaunts around the block a week and my legs felt trashed and this week I ran just over 10 miles of trails as a warm up in the taper week prior to a race. I've ran 2800km in my first full year of running largely because I booked this ages ago and I wanted this to go well. It's local and it's a good stepping stone to hopefully longer routes - the Chiltern Ridge Ultra (50km).
Every day leading up to the race I checked the weather and every day it said the same thing. Heavy rain (I even religiously checked different websites for a second, third and fourth opinion).
I had to buy myself a jacket (surprisingly complicated when considering how waterproof and breathable they are and not wanting to spend £200 on something I'm not certain I'll wear again). I spent friday night working through the items you're meant to carry - first aid kit, water bottle, food supplies, mask (Covid), dry top, foil blanket, £20 (in case you get stuck and need a taxi). A mini adventure for a person who likes lists.
I had a simple target - just finish. I'd love to get between 5:15- 5:30hrs which should put me somewhere in the top 30-40 finishers (out of 130ish) but who knows how my body would cope. I'd ran the last 20km of the route 2 weeks ago and it challenged me mentally. The organisers somewhat sadistically placed the start/finish at the top of a steep hill. At the end of the 20km recce run I sat on the floor near where the finish would be feeling ever so slightly crushed by the prospect of having to run another 30km prior to 'that' finish.
Onto race day and Kate and the kids dropped me off. Due to Covid they had to stay in the car - but I think even without Covid they would have stayed there anyway; the weather was atrocious. I registered and was surprised to see very few runners and then realised they were semi-huddled (with social distancing and masks) under the medical tents whilst waiting for the start. Nobody wanted to be out there. As a rolling start you could leave at any point after 8am and before 9am. I waited until the first wave of people had left, pinned my number on, delayed the inevitable and then scanned my wristband and headed out at 8:15. I wanted to have people to follow more than anything else.
The first 25km was good. I was overtaking people, albeit gradually, I felt pretty comfortable with my pace and I was coping well with the weather - I forgot to start my watch but I didn't let that annoy me like it normally would (I did give myself a few angry curses under my breath).
On the return from Ivinghoe beacon and into a headwind and my energy levels started deteriorating - a lot of the route is along the same tracks and they were now slippy and psychologically draining as I knew very clearly how far I had to go. I latched onto a Portuguese chap (I later found out called Saul) and we ran pretty close by with a bit of a chat for about 10km - it was a godsend having someone to run with - my first real experience of it a year into running. With the pacing under control but slower and random people clapping us along I was given enough of a push to get to the last aid station (41km). I filled my bottle with electrolyte, and left knowing it was only 9km to the end. Easy - I run that all the time.
Then my body just lost. the. plot.
I came to a junction with a very clear arrow and a person pointing the direction I needed to go and I stopped for a good 10 seconds staring confused as my mind couldn't compute the way to go - just a heady fog. The markers laughed at me when it finally clicked and I started moving off.
I started walk/running more and more and then as I descended the final hill before the final climb, muscles started going wrong. First a stabbing sensation in my back with every step, and then my hamstrings pulled tight like I was a puppet where the strings had been caught preventing free movement. Over the course of a km I'd gone from relatively loose and slightly foggy to tight and in pain.
It reminded me of a quote from Scott Jurek's book which I kept telling myself to get me through; "Pain only hurts" he wrote. What a stupid thing to say - how does that help!?.
I had severely undercooked something and I'm pretty confident it was the limited food I'd taken on board throughout (at the time I'd thought I'd had plenty but in hindsight I'd only eaten a banana, a gel, a single haribo and maybe 4 to 5 jaffa cakes - with 750ml of electrolyte I'd drank it's just not enough).
I looked at my watch with the final hill to go and thought I'd blown my 5hr 15 time. Every km was closer to 7 minutes than 6 minutes and this last hill was going to be closer to 10 if I could drag my way up it.
The last few hundred metres and I was running straight legged - my foggy mind even contemplated crawling under a stile like a dog because I didn't think my legs would handle going over it. I thought better of it and with the weather now clear and only a few people in the tent as I ran in with a light ripple of clapping. What a feeling to finish.
I scanned in and took my medal, and bought a beer with no idea of my time. I looked on the live results and read 4hr 52. What?! where did that come from? I was 12th - madness. Could not have wished for any better.
The next week and my legs are finally returning to mobility. My biggest reflection is how quickly my body has forgotten how tired it was and how bad I felt and all the memories are now of the positive buzz of the experience - I'm still buzzing now, I loved it.
On the negative side I've got to work out how to run 20 miles further in less than 5 weeks for Race to the King - 52 miles across the South Downs. Let the Ultra journey continue.