Relish Cheddar Half Marathon - DNF

Despite sounding like a pickle, this race is quite tough and as such appeals to my Jack London style of running.  I haven't trained a lot due to work commitments, but ran 20 miles at a brisk lick last week, so I felt that even if I wasn't going to win I could at least run strongly.

That was until the illicit pee in the shrubs.

Having over-hydrated (it was really hot), I popped up the path into the trees to 'lighten up'.  On my return the Cheddar sprites, in an act of retribution, sprung a rock on me as I jogged down the path.  Over went the ankle, and out the door went any possibility of doing well in the race.
 I hobbled back to Karin pretending to all the other runners that everything was cool and I always ran with a limp.  A mixture of gentle runs and firm pressure to the offending tendon got me to the start line but with little optimism, although there was always the option to drop out at the end of the first lap.

I felt quite good at the start and the ankle actually seemed ok, so I got into the race and charged up the hill with the others.  It was very warm with little wind and we were all dripping with sweat within 1/2 a mile.  Lack of cardio-vascular fitness started to make itself known as we climbed to the nature reserve and then into Velvet Bottom - as beautiful a place as it sounds.  The temperature was pretty merciless and I guess most of us were calulating how far it was to the water station - although the cup of water they gave me seemed to evaporate before I got any satisfaction from it.  The ankle was holding up but I felt very heavy.  I still seem to think I can compete on natural fitness, but today was evidence that this can no longer be banked on.

Back down Velvet Bottom, more water, and I was starting to dig in for the long haul.  Gary Jennings and Lynette Porter had passed me so I was very aware that I couldn't be where I felt I should be, as I would normally beat them.  The ankle was starting to ache and the downhill bits took their toll - and there were some pretty technical downhill bits.  I knew the steps at the top of the gorge would be hard; at that point just getting around had become the new target.
 As the race threaded along the top of the gorge my ankle felt really sore and I figured that if it is getting worse I am not doing it any favours by continuing.  Into the main field where the finish was as well as the loop for starting the second lap; I called out to Karin that I would just do the little dog-leg prior to the second half.  Down into the strawberry field and a lung bursting climb through the woods.  That was it.  Under the tape and over to a marshall to announce my retirement.
We sat and watched the rest of the race.  I depressed myself by working out where I would have come; enlivened by the presence of a delightful young lady next to us who chatted about running in an attempt to share some of Karin's job of stopping me slipping into a pit of despair.

So, great race but the first DNF in thirty years of running.  However, my foot seized up totally by the time we got home, so it was the right decision.  As concern for my foot gave way to introspection I wondered about racing.  I love taking part in events like this, but more than that I love to think I am a competitor - in with a chance.  Today I ran as a participant, which just doesn't feel like enough.

Unfit, weak foot, could this be age creeping in?  After all I am in the 50-59 category which for once didn't seem very well represented in the top ten places.  This is a depressing thought, so instead I am going to put a plan into action - sort the foot out; loads of strengthening when it is ready; go out with other runners to find some speed, and actually run for more than a couple of times per week, training rather than just running.
The alternative is so much worse - run these events just for fun alongside the competitors who hold a bottle in their hand and wear earphones.  No, I am not ready for that yet.

Plusses?  The hamstring felt ok, my hydration plans were good despite the heat, I had breath to joke with the marshalls, and no leg tiredness afterwards.  Just need to sort the ankle out...

Shrews

I can't even start to consider how many miles I have run on paths and trails over the years, but to give it a ball-park figure, I would say, a lot.  Over those years I have had the privilege of seeing nature close up: birds, bees, grasses, hares, owls, foxes and in one memorable encounter, a massive bull moose.  Not in the UK I hasten to add.
Anyway, I was toodling up through Ironwood this evening, and as I picked my way up the path narrowly missed the corpse of a shrew in the middle of the path.  My Brooks hit the ground on either side of the pathetic little bundle and I was struck by the fact that I have seen quite a lot of dead shrews over the afore-mentioned years.  Rats? Nope. Hedgehogs, not one. Mice? Pah.  No other animal approaches the shrew in public stiffs by a long chalk.

Now, why could this be?  I have a few suggestions;

1.  I am a shrew god and they sacrifice low-caste individuals at my feet.

2.  They run out of energy crossing the path.  After all , they do have a high metabolism and I totally understand what it feels like to have a low blood-sugar dip

3.  Predatory animals cast shrews in my path to make me slip up.  The thought of my foot pressing down on that little body and the contents sliding through the skin gives me the willies

4.  They like the idea of meeting their maker staring at the sky, and a path offers a clearing in the tree cover

5.  The creatures that like to eat mammal corpses don't like shrews

6.  There are loads of shrews; simply millions

7. They trip up a lot and inevitably injure themselves

I like the idea of a prime number list.  Oh wait, hang on, it's obvious - they are made of something that lasts forever.  Well, what happens to all the sparrows, deer, slow-worms and other wildlife?  You just don't see their peeling shells when they have come to the end of their allotted span - no, because they quickly decay.  Not the shrews - they just don't break down in the same way.  Perhaps they are alcoholics and therefore pickled, or perhaps their diet includes a mystery substance undiscovered by science that is anti-bacterial.  Whatever, I rather feel there is a fortune to be made by analysing the key ingredient in shrew corpses.  Please excuse me, I'm off out with a trowel and a carrier bag to collect some furry husks and find me a spectrometer or whatever they use now to isolate immortal substances.