BRECON 40 SUMMER

Another first for me, not in a good way.

Wednesday's visit to the physio had gone like the others, the pain behind my left knee had neither grown nor subsided.  I felt that I had just about squeezed in enough training and there did not seem to be any reason not to run on Saturday.

The mountain weather forecast was not good, showers some heavy, wind of 35 mph and temperatures falling to around freezing on the tops.  I packed accordingly with plenty of spare gear and put a couple of bread bags in the pocket of my sack to wind proof my knitted gloves.

I chatted while waiting for the start.  I introduced myself to David Bethell, I had seen David at a few events.  We had not spoken previously, but I knew we had some mutual friends.  The start was during a reasonably bright interval and we were off along the canal at about 08:10

The first rain came soon and even at low level there was enough chill to need waterproofs.  The 1500' climb of Tor y Foel was a chance to get warm.  CP1 at 7 miles seemed a long time coming though it didn't actually take me that long.

I ran straight through CP1 and was soon running gently down hill into woods on a forestry track.  After a fair while I came on a group of runners studying their maps.  Shortly we were joined by another group of runners coming in the other direction and then by another group coming the same way I had.  Later I recalled making a mental note, when I had studied the route, that this bit was tricky.  The route followed the track then split right on an almost invisible path, my note was that if you were going down hill you were going wrong.  We tracked back and eventually found the contouring path, we never did find the marker.  I had been little help getting us back on route, I couldn't see anything with my glasses on and couldn't see a map with them off.

Looks grim, it got worse, then much worse.


I reached CP2 with a bunch of people.  The marshals were great, I didn't even have to fill my bottle, I was invited to hold it out while they filled it for me!

It brightened for a moment as we left the checkpoint and I removed my water proof during the first ascent, it was back on within minutes.  As soon as the ground became at all exposed the wind was biting.  The rain also became heavier and I could not see through my specs, as the terrain was often demanding the specs went in my bag and I ran without them.  As the ground became more exposed the cold became threatening.   Deep bogs chilled my feet far more than the river crossings in the December event had.   At this point I would have stopped to put on more clothing had there been any shelter at all, there was none so I carried on.

As the ridges became more exposed the rain increased and the wind picked up.  I could no longer feel my fingers and running at all became an effort as my thighs were so cold.  I made the best progress I could for the next couple of miles to CP3 on the mountain.  I kept well away from edges, sometimes running at the side of the muddy path to avoid being blown off.  I hoped that the descent to CP4 at 22.5 miles would offer some shelter from the wind.  If my fingers could thaw out enough to operate a buckle I could shelter in trees, put on some more clothing, put bags over my hands and eat something,  If they did not thaw I knew retirement would be a necessity.

How the marshals survived at CP3 I do not know, I would have put up a sign saying "please report to the tent" and stayed inside it.  I left the checkpoint and turned South West for the descent.  Fan Fawr on the other side of the valley did nothing to shelter the first mile of descent which was in the strongest headwind of the day.  Running down hill felt like running against elastic pulling you back up.  I knew then that I would have to retire, to carry on would have been foolish.  There would have been about a third of a mile of sheltered running only before returning to the appalling conditions on the hill.

The marshal at CP4 was great.  He offered me a seat in his car, which I willingly accepted.  I could not remove my ruck sac myself no matter how hard I tried to deal with the fastenings, another runner kindly undid them for me in the end.  I slid into the car where the marshal put a blanket over my legs and turned on the heater.  I pulled my wet gloves off with my teeth and held my hands in the warm air.  My core temperature was still good so most of me was warm well before my hands thawed out.

In retrospect the choice of shorts may not have been one of my best decisions. Photo - Darren Ross


During the next hour and a half the car filled up with retiring runners most, like myself, too chilled to continue safely and one who was more deeply cold.  Stretching muscles had not been high on anyone's list and the air turned blue as our contorted legs suffered cramp without the space to extend them.

When I got back to the start I waited for David Bethell and my room mate to return. David Bethell made it back in around nine hours, about an hour quicker than he had predicted, well done.  As my room mate was not back a while after his predicted time I wrote a note and prepared to leave.  I thought that I could get a good night's sleep at home and go for a run on Sunday and at least get a decent back to back out of the weekend.  I packed the car and then had a last wander over to the finish, fortunate as I was just in time to see my room mate come in.

The rain was so heavy that I had to drive slowly even with wipers at full speed.  I reflected that I would still be out on the course had I not retired and felt that my decision to stop was vindicated.  Just like the comical post cards, the rain stopped as soon as I crossed the border back into England.

Later my left leg began to stiffen up and by Sunday morning walking had become difficult and painful, this year is not going to plan.


Well done to the Might Contain Nuts team. I was one of many victims of the ferocious wind chill/rain combination. Casualties were all managed smoothly and so far as I know there were no serious incidents.

Nothing conclusive

Still in leg pain limbo

There was still some pain in my left leg before I started the weekend's back to backs.  I ran with the new orthotics in my Crosslite 2s, I had been wearing them round the office for a few days to bed them in.  The orthotics were not uncomfortable, though they do take up considerable room in the shoe and move my toes forward.  This caused a little soreness but nothing that a little taping couldn't fix.

I ran around 27 miles on Saturday, the pain eased after a while.  My biggest problem was that my head seemed to have forgotten that running this distance over the fells is quite hard work.  It doesn't matter how many long runs I do, unless they are close together, I seem to forget that energy levels come and go and that I may feel better at 25 miles than 16.  Indeed I ran up Shutligsloe, at around 23 miles, whereas I had walked up much of Croker Hill from Bosley reservoir at 12.

I was lucky with the weather and managed to dodge all but two short showers, one was light hail that just bounced off.  The wind chill was higher than anticipated and I wished that I had a light wind proof as well as my waterproof jacket.  I was already carrying far too much due to lack of confidence and the remoteness of much of the route.

On the Gritstone Trail, descending Croker Hill on my way to Tegg's Nose

When I got back to the car park at Gradbach I was suffering no more than 'normal' tired legs.  When I woke on Sunday morning, my leg felt better than it had for several days.  My ten miler went without any problems and I enjoyed the green wave that spring has brought and the sight of footpaths that had been submerged for several months.  A few hours later my leg began to get very stiff again.

I ran on Tuesday despite the stiffness (which had persisted) and felt better afterwards.  Today the leg is stiff again.  I am pretty sure I could run for 40 miles, the question is am I aggravating an injury or just hurting.  I will see the physio again tonight, then I really must make a decision about the Brecon 40.  I do not like to mess race organisers about.

I'm off to see the Wizard ....

well the Physiotherapist anyway

My left knee is feeling more than a little battered.  I am not sure that the original injury was even caused by running, but I now seem to have a large collection of secondary injuries that make running uncomfortable.  The main pain is in an inside hamstring tendon just below the knee, I also have pain at the back of the knee outside the joint, pain at the inside front just below the kneecap and the joint itself feels swollen making hyperflexion painful.

I've done a few runs of around 25 miles with "back to backs" the next day that did not appear to aggravate the condition (no pain within 48 hours).  I have also run a few miles in my lunch break and experienced pain afterwards.

When I get up from sitting things hurt enough to cause me to limp, the pain eases after movement.  Keeping my leg straight while sitting seems to help.

All in all things are not looking good for the Brecon 40 in a few weeks.

Mow Cop Fell Race 7th April 2013

Mow Cop Fell Race: 6.5 miles (10.5km) and 1300ft (400m) of ascent in cracking conditions and free photos!


I have never missed this event, the inaugural race marked my return to running after 16 years, it has also been my 'traditional' first race of the year since that time.  Consequently I have formed a sentimental bond with the event and always look forward to it.  This year was no exception despite exceptional circumstances.


The year did not start well, a tendon injury has kept me from running since the end of January.  This was to have been the first year that my event calendar did not begin with the Mow Cop race, but I had to scratch from three earlier events.  I made a few trial excursions the week before last and although the leg was not pain free, running did not seem to make it much worse.  I put in a very short 'long run' of 13 miles last Sunday, rested on Monday and resumed training in earnest on Tuesday.  Getting back on my event schedule leaves me no time to hang around (Brecon 40 miler next month) so some serious back to back running is called for, this meant putting in 25 miles the day before Mow Cop.  This is not how I would have chosen to prepare for the event.

Sunday was a cold and bright morning as it has been every year, though the scattered snow drifts were a new feature.  A hundred runners gathered at the start line at Mount Pleasant Village Hall, after a brief reminder to be; courteous to other RoW users, careful on the road section and wary of persistent ice, we were away.

Few bother to start very fast in this event as the short, steep climb to the playing fields leads to a very early bottleneck.  I started to get a move on after this having forgotten that an early stile makes that pretty pointless too.  The stile cleared we were on our way up to the quarry under the 'castle'.  Though narrow paths and steps create squeezes here, the field spreads enough to settle in.

In the quarry - One of the excellent free photos from racephotos.org.uk

Once out of the quarry the pace speeds up along the tops, round the 'Old Man of Mow' and along tracks until the path narrows again where the Gritstone Trail runs through woods parallel to  Congleton Road.  

The track after the 'Old Man' another  racephotos.org.uk shot - these runners are behind me here, though Andrea Woodhead (301) passed me later and finished a minute ahead of me.


The running through the woods is quite exhilarating, there are enough tree roots and slippery patches to demand concentration, but good progress can be made providing you do keep your head.  All too soon the path meets the road, a few hundred metres of tarmac then a left turn into a field where the real filth starts.

Coarse long grass will often spread a footprint wide enough to allow you to skim over bog, here it only served to hide bits and make one's passage less predictable.  Many was the squeal as a jet of filthy water hit someone where they err.. least expected it.  Dirty, stinky and wet as bogs are, at least they don't tend to hitch a ride on your shoes like sticky mud.  Then came the sticky mud, soon shaken off on the tarmac that followed fortunately.

Tree lined path and plank bridge followed lane and lane followed path, puffing hard but a decline fooling one that the pace could be maintained for ever.  A sharp left turn, then the downhill running had to be paid for.

Track gives way to rising open fields, the wise start to take it easy here as the real climb is yet to come.  As the South Cheshire Way winds into woods the way gets ever steeper and most will start to walk if they hadn't done so already (I determinedly ran the whole of this section one year, but it did not give me my best time).  It is all a matter of perspective, I have climbed sections twice as steep, five times longer, in races of five times the distance, but this is a short fast race and from that viewpoint this ascent is bloomin' steep.

As soon as a stile through a stone wall puts the woods behind you it is time to get a move on.  Quads and calves are begging you to stop, but you know that the horizon is real and that effort made here will be repaid amply.  So power up the last bit of incline with quads screaming knowing that they will get their rest on the run when the horizon is reached.  It's pretty fast easy running most of the way back.

Yours truly, I think I am attempting a smile, just after the horizon on the South Cheshire Way -  racephotos.org.uk

By the time you  re pass the Old Man of Mow you can really get a clip on, and the very last descent is best if you leave your brains with a friend for safekeeping.  Nonetheless I was a little more circumspect than last year, knowing that a PB was not a possibility I trod more carefully and even stepped over a wire fence that I have leapt in the past.

I crossed the finish line having taken nearly ten minutes more than my best previous time (three minutes more than my worst).  I felt good, felt like I had run well and given (nearly) my best.  I slapped the hand of a close competitor, before heading for the drinks table (I actually jogged).  Curiously I never felt tired due to the previous days exertion, I just ran slower at the same perceived effort and speed as other years.

After quenching my immediate raging thirst and seeing the prizes awarded I made my way home via the excellent Blue Bell in Hardingswood, another part of my 'tradition'.  The crisp hoppy memory is still with me.

I would like to do more runs of this distance, there is something good about going like the clappers for an hour knowing that even if you do overcook things you can recover in the time it takes to walk to the car park.  Unfortunately reality usually means driving for twice the time I will spend running and I find that hard to justify.

My thanks to the organisers Mow Cop Runners who are so sorted that they have the results on the web before you can get home and to racephotos for the fantastic free snaps (half of which were online by the end of Sunday and the rest by early Monday morning).

I have never studied a profile of this race, nor will I.  I don't want irrelevant details like facts to colour my impression of it.  My impression is of an event that is all downhill on pleasantly varied terrain with grand views across Cheshire and interesting foreground detail, though you do have to go up some hills to get to the downhill bits.

Muscle and blood and skin and bone..

Well that was that then.  My initial ambition, for 2012, was to run two marathons instead of one and to up my mileage to 50 miles on hard weeks.  I ended up running a BM a BL, two marathons, and three ultras one a  50km category A.  I am very glad that I did (though I still have no confidence in my ability to do it).

I achieved the fifty mile hard weeks for the most part, but for all that my annual mileage was probably less than in the year before. This was due in part to illness and injury, though that happens every year.  The real reason was that from June to the end of the year I was either tapering for an event or resting after one.

I don't do new years resolutions, however I do intend to train harder this year.  Though I am of Sputnik vintage, the last year suggests (two PBs) that there is still more to be had from the old body.  Mileage will increase with my 50 mile+ event aspirations, but I think it is time for some speedwork too; faster, harder, longer, ooer missus.

Some folks say a man's made out of mud
A poor man's made out of muscle and blood
Muscle and blood and skin and bones
A mind that's weak and a back that's strong

We're not made out of mud, but for most of 2012 it certainly looked like it.

The Ultra Brecon 40 Winter Edition - 41 miles 7,470' ascent

Forty plus miles of mud, great crack and my first meeting with Cani Crossers.  A long tour of the Brecon National Park with a dawn start and dusk falling long before the finish (for ordinary mortals).  There was a freezing mist in the valleys and in that mist glowed the pale, clear eyes of Huskies.

I arrived at the Talybont Recreation Center in the evening after a comparatively uneventful drive and set off to find a dorm with a free bed.  I found a space and was soon chatting about this and that with a fellow who introduced himself as Ricardo and later I met my other two room mates.

The rooms were far too warm for comfort and none of us had slept for more than a couple of hours when we rose at around 05:30.  I hadn't realised that in another room, ground coffee was being served by a caterer and had settled for some disgusting all in one instant concoction to accompany my porridge.  I had organised my kit in advance so just chilled until it was time for the ten minute walk to the start line and 07:15 briefing.

As soon as the briefing was over I removed my down pullover and repacked it carefully.  Forty five seconds later START was called and I waited as a few runners went past before adopting what I thought was a sensible position two thirds back.  

There were no real bottlenecks, apart from stiles, in the whole race and we trotted without pressure up the first ascent.  The freezing mist was receding into the valleys leaving a film of white on all but the tops of the hills, the scene was amazing and everybody paused for a picture.

The first ascent and the freezing mist revealing it's handiwork. -el

There were patches that were wet/muddy, most of them easy enough to dodge and I enjoyed the early running and the scenery made especially haunting by the early light, mists and frost on the ground.

On the way to CP1 another view that few could resist the urge to record - el.

The terrain became seriously muddy after a while, check point one at 8 miles seemed a long time coming, though when I checked my watch I was making reasonable time.  I still felt reasonably fresh and had packed for self sufficiency so did not stop.


I made sure I ate and drank my scheduled amounts.  When I  reached CP2 at 12 miles I took a little water to dilute my Coke.  I felt that I was slowing down now, though I still felt OK.  Checking my split time showed that I was maintaining exactly the same pace as before.

Talybont reservoir, on the way to checkpoint 3 - el.

After a few miles I started to feel very tired and was hoping I was not going to have another fizzle out like I did at the Roaches.  I reassured myself with the memory of how worn out I had felt at a similar distance on the Long Tour of Bradwell. I also monitored my breathing to ensure that I was working at a respectable level.  I have found that it is easy to slip into a sub optimal trudge and that an increase in speed sometimes seems impossible, but once achieved is not at all uncomfortable or difficult to maintain.


Checkpoint 3 at 16 miles came and went.  I was expecting the worst when I looked at my watch and was pleasantly surprised that I was still averaging better than 15 minutes a mile, no slower than before.

The almost constant deep mud was not my "cup of tea" at all.  Sometimes it was ankle deep and threatened to pull your shoes off, sometimes it was less deep and so incredibly slippery.  Often there was a crust of ice and you never knew whether your foot would slip on the ice, break through and sink into the filth below or break and sink just enough for a shard of ice to get you in the Achille's.

I had struck up the occasional conversation here and there and the usual passing and re passing had taken place, a couple of Australian fellows and I had passed and re passed each other several times since the start.  Nonetheless, I ran much of this race on my own, my preoccupation with the filthy terrain and staying upright meant that I missed views and other opportunities that I might otherwise have enjoyed.  For similar reasons I took no more photographs.

The Aussies

As the event progressed my fatigue plateaued and after a while I just became used to it.  I continued to eat and drink as scheduled and when any temporary increase in energy came along I took advantage and upped my pace.  I started to catch a few people that I had not seen since the start.  Amongst these were some of the canni crossers and, as our paces were similar, I had the time to admire the remarkable, beautiful and noble huskies. 

Harley, Max and Gary Turner. Gary spent more time on his bottom than most of us, especially on descents.

Eventually I left the canni crossers behind and could discern no familiar faces.  I had expected checkpoint 7 at 35 miles to be significant for me as it would be further than I had ever run before.  Somehow this significance waned long before I got there as, tired as I was, I knew at twenty miles that I would make the distance barring accidents.

I continued to maintain pace through the 21 and 25.5 mile checkpoints, gained a little on the steep ascent up from the road lay by shortly after CP5.  I was sorely tempted to stop for coffee there but kept on.

At check point 5 I had caught and left the Australians and did not see them again until the steep descent before the 30 mile checkpoint 6.  They caught and passed me, I later caught and passed them again until eventually they passed me a last time running as if they had found some energy at the bottom of their packs.

The scenery was fine here and I began to enjoy the route again until darkness hid the view.  I had company on and off until the last checkpoint at 35 miles.  At this point the twilight ended and as head torches went on four of us stuck pretty much together and navigated as a team.  This worked well as signs were not always easy to see and bits of tape were invisible.  We ran towards purposeful looking head torches and assumed any running back and forth at right angles to our path were lost.  When we saw an example of the latter or where otherwise uncertain we spread into a semi circle and shouted when we identified the route.  When one of us had a bit of energy we ran ahead and shouted back if correct direction was confirmed.

We did have to zig zag or change direction occasionally (and sometimes mistook the reflection of a sheep's eye for a torch) but together we lost maybe ten minutes that could so easily have been much more, I think we also pulled each other along.  Around two miles from the finish we met a runner from the organising team who was out placing glow sticks, runners behind us had an easier time getting home.


The team; Hannah, Jonathan, Michael and myself

Our impromptu "team" finished together at 10:40:56 representing an overall pace of less than 16 minutes per mile.  I have never run at such a consistent pace in an event this long.  We shook hands then headed for refreshment.  Soon Ricardo came down to see who was home, later another room mate Paul did the same, this kind of camaraderie was a touching feature of the event.

Our last room mate, Mark (and dog), was still not home after some time and Ricardo and I headed for the pub.  I bumped into the Australians who had got back in 10:10.  I congratulated them on this achievement, after running so much of the race at a pace similar to mine they had got half an hour ahead in ten miles and that is some going as I had hardly slowed.

Mark coming home

When we returned from a very pleasant time at the White Hart, Mark was still not home.  The rest went to bed while I chilled and took some air, I checked again for Mark who had not yet arrived but a head torch could be seen in the distance.  He came across the finish a few minutes later with a smile that threatened to crack his face.  He was congratulated then attention moved to his beautiful white husky.

I can not say that I enjoyed the route, far too much filth for me.  Still,  sores in the Achilles area where mud and grit had accumulated in the opening of my shoe are the only injury I sustained.  I am pleased with my time.  The event I enjoyed enormously, the crack, the support, the laughs and especially my fourth pint from a generous comrade who understood that a cash flow situation, due to a cloned card, meant that I couldn't stand my round.

Cheers everyone, for your excellent company.  Hope you had a good journey back to Denmark Peter, good luck for the Tour de Helvellyn Emiko and cani crossers give those lovely dogs an extra hug from me.

All photographs except those credited to - el, are muen photography.  Excellent work guys.

Roaches Fell Race 11/11/12 18 miles 3700' ascent

For those familiar with the Roaches Fell Race, but not present this year, the title description may appear to be an error.  This year's race was extended by 3 miles in an attempt to minimise the spread of Phytophthora pseudosyringae.  Most of the change to the course was between Roach End and the river crossing.  The new route followed the path towards Hangingstone before turning right to take the path north and then east to the western end of Forest Wood and the river crossing.

As registration was on the  day only, I made sure that I was at Meerbrook Village Hall with an hour in hand.  It had been a cold start to the morning that had included scraping car windows, so I changed and loitered in the hall.   When I did make my way outside for the start I was surprised at how much the day had warmed.


I can't remember hearing anyone saying "GO", but suddenly everyone was moving.  I settled into an easy pace towards the back, I intended to take this race steady.  I had clocked up a few miles in the last fortnight, more than 70 just in weekend runs.  Beachy Head at the end of October, Roaches in the middle of November and Ultra Brecon 40 at the beginning of December has given me a bit of a training headache.  I aimed to get round in about four hours, steady, but not so slow as to keep the marshals out.

We turned off the road and started across fields, easy at first then steeper, up to Roach House and then the road beneath the Roaches.  This section was filthy, really, very, very, filthy.  I have never been a lover of muddy sections and here was a mile of deep mud trodden up by cattle who had left the odd "bonus".  I can't remember sinking in to my knees, but at the end of it all of us were plastered to knee height.  I hated it.

The stile at Roach House

We crossed the road and on up to the Roaches, all in all around 900' of ascent in a couple of miles.  The ascent continued at an easier rate until the Roaches trig point at about 1,640'.  I was feeling fine and started to gain a little momentum as we passed Roach End heading toward Hanging Stone.  Much of the path here is a deep narrow gutter and is hard to run, even harder when in a pack.  I gained a few places but passing was difficult.  Just as I was coming on well I placed my right foot badly, I didn't fall but did turn my ankle.  

The route turned off toward the river crossing, the terrain was better here and the ankle seemed to hold up.  I started to enjoy the descent through trees to the crossing.

The river crossing, I think this is on the way back
Michael Orange Photography

 We ran across fields, via Helmesley and Helmesley Rocks to join the path on Midgley/Tagsclough Hill.  I was astonished to see the first returning runner pass me by the gate just before the path.  I hadn't expected this for another mile.  Indeed it was a good mile before the next runner came past.

I followed the now familiar track to the main road, crossed and set off for Wildboarclough.  The second placed runner passed us by the end of the first field, he was a cheerful fellow and shouted "well done, keep going" towards us even before we had had a chance to congratulate him.  Parts of the descent down to Wildboarclough were soggy as usual, but  more bog than mud.

The water at the road crossing was very welcome.  I was very thirsty and my Coke tasted cloying, in retrospect it was a mistake to have carried only Coke and solid food with so little water on route.

At the top of the track on Shutlingsloe quite a few returning runners came past, including the first ladies.  As the track turned into footpath evasive action was sometimes needed until the outward and return paths separated.

Returning runners, after the track turns to footpath on Shutlingsloe.  The return path can be seen to the left.

The paths separated and so began a very steep ascent direct to the trig point, marshals checked our numbers as we appeared over the rocks.  I was on my way again, but was told by a marshal that we had to touch the trig point.  I ran back a step to do so and, as a result, later discovered that I had somehow managed to take a photo of the ground instead of the marshal and trig point.

The steep ascent route up Shutlingsloe.  This goes over rocks to the trig point,
starting from where the usual path and the by pass route separate.

It was a few moments only, along the top of Shutlingsloe, before the tricky descent began.  Descents are not my forte, however, I don't remember anyone passing me on the way down so recent training must be paying off.  I bent my knees and leant forward a little, favouring my left leg to spare my injured ankle.  I think it is lack of confidence more than technique that now limits my descent speed.  I was pleased with myself, but even more pleased when the steep part was over.  The rest of the descent flew by and when I stopped for water again at Widboarclough the marshal expressed surprise to see me again so soon. 

Shortly after crossing Clough Brook I placed my left foot badly and felt a sharp pain in my knee.  The pain eased after a few steps so I carried on, though I was also beginning to be aware of the fact that I was unexpectedly tired.  I started to eat one of my buns, but my mouth was so dry that I had run half a mile before I had finished it.

Time passed un-remarkably.  I was a fair way in front of the following runner and a fair way behind the one in front.  There were several miles where I could not see another competitor at all.  The river crossing came and went as did the following short ascent.  When I reached  the Back Forest path I caught and passed a couple of runners.

As the climb up to Roach End began my left knee began to protest, each step hurt a fair bit.  There is a road down from Roach End which is used by competitors who fail to make the cut off time to this marshalled point.  I asked the marshal what the difference in distance was, he replied that it was not much, just less ascent.  I decided to carry on and finish the race.

As I started the ascent to the Roaches trig point the rain began.  I resisted donning my waterproof, then as the rain turned to rain and hail and a sharp wind I gave in.  Shortly I encountered a pallid looking runner leaning against a rock.  I asked him if he was OK and he replied, "I think I am in a bad way".  His speech was not clear and he did not look well.  He had burned out and was badly in need of food.  I was also worried that hypothermia would soon set in given his weak state and the exposed location.  I offered him my jumper and leggings, he did not take them, he thought he just needed to eat.  I produced my last bun and a packet of dextrose tablets I keep "in case" and gave them to him.  I asked him if he had water, which he had, and told him to take a drink with the food otherwise the sugar would not be absorbed (the reason I had not bothered eating it myself).

I was still worried about the exposed location so suggested that we got moving.  I said I would walk with him until we could find somewhere more sheltered or a marshal to take care of him.  We set off together and just before where the path drops down by "Chicken Run" found a marshal.  I left him in the marshal's care and got moving again.  Although many runners had passed me since I had stopped, a look at my watch suggested that I could still finish in well under four hours.

It was not to be.  I don't know where the time went, I did not feel that I was moving slowly, but somehow it took me forty five minutes to cover the last two and a half miles most of which was downhill!  Maybe I had misread my watch or maybe it was just too much mince in the filth fields.

After I stopped my knee started to hurt a lot, indeed driving home was difficult and was punctuated by much wincing and sharp intakes of breath.

In the hall I met the chap I had given the bun to.  He had been able to carry on and finish once the food had kicked in!  He bought me a cup of tea and a slice of fruitcake as a thank you.  He had an eleven mile bike ride to the station before a train home to Bristol, I suggested he eat a lot of cake.

It appears that the early returning runner had not got lost, he won by an incredible 19 minutes!  I on the other hand took 04:09:32.  Though this is pretty much the time I was aiming for I still felt most dissatisfied with my performance.  Once out there I had upped the game then I had fizzled, this shouldn't have happened in just 18 miles.  I was well under hydrated and not absorbing nutrition, I had also failed to carb up well enough before the race.  This was bad planning.  What really annoys me is that I let the effect of these mistakes affect my head enough to wreck my performance further.

Ibuprofen worked wonders on the knee, it doesn't hurt too much now.  The ankle is OK so long as I don't provoke it, it just feels like I have something in my sock.  I think it will be fine as long as I stick to track and road for a while.  The memory of the fields of filth will take longer to heal.