Chasing Yesterday 13th November 2015 āAnd so, 130 days later, he returned...ā Since the conclusion of Juneathon, Iāve been pretty quiet. I didnāt feel much of a need to sit myself down in front of a laptop and start tapping away, musing over what I had or hadnāt managed to achieve. I had enjoyed blogging about my little exploits but I was a little grateful when I no longer felt obliged to be prattling on. Actually, even though the blogging was an associated requirement for Juneathon, I stopped because Iāve been pretty inactive. I wasnāt running and didnāt feel that I had anything else to ramble about. Whatās happened since I last wrote? July Aside from a small 20 mile jaunt from Oxford to Benson along the Thames, I spent the first three weeks of July anxiously waiting for my first child to be born. Almost two weeks later than expected, my wife gave birth to a little girl. The little lady has been an absolute joy so far, surpassing all of my expectations. She seems to only cry when there is something genuinely bothering her (hungry, dirty nappy, etc) and apart from those occasions, she is normally very smiley. She has effectively made the need to run redundant as the happy & peaceful place that I find when Iām out running, I now find at home ... even if she should find herself in a grumbly and screaming mood. August At the beginning of the year, I was signed up for Centurion Runningās Grand Slam, which is four 100 mile races within the same calendar year. Having faltered during the second, Juneās South Downs Way 100 (SDW100), I withdrew from the North Downs Way 100 (NDW100), which was set for the second weekend in August. At this time, the little lady would have been 2-3 weeks old. The NDW100 was always going to be a challenge logistically and if my attempt on Centurion Runningās Grand Slam was still viable, my wife & I had planned to pull out all of the stops to make it happen. Since my attempt on the Grand Slam had fallen into tatters, we didnāt see the merit in leaving one of usĀ alone for what was, at least, 48 hours and for the other a) to potentially return not in a fit state to help with anything, let alone childcare, and b) to actually require some looking after. September On 8th September, I decided that I was still going to run the 4th and final 100 miler of the year, the Autumn 100 (A100).Ā The race looks like a deformed cross, encompassing 50 miles of the Thames Path and 50 miles of the Ridgeway, with its centre in Goring. I had 39 days from that decision to turn around seven weeks of decadent childcare, sponsored by excessive consumption of cake coupled with nigh on no running... October Ha ha ha... Ok, to onlookers, it would have looked like I was standing still butĀ I had started to pick myself off the floor ... progress was just very slow. I was expecting (hoping, maybe) that theĀ turnaround in lethargic tendencies was going to be either more instantaneous and/or dramatic. I was managing to occasionally cycle to work (18 miles, there & back) and I was also managing to drag myself out for the occasional run. Perhaps this wasnāt enough but, at least, it was more than nothing. Sadly, the momentum that I was slowly picking up came to a sensible halt when I seemed it appropriate to taper for my upcoming race. As it transpired, said race did not go according to plan. I survived the first spur northbound on the Thames. I was overly wary of a small one mile stint past Moulsford, which turned out to be fine but other than that, the stretch was too familiar and dare I say it, on this occasion, uninspiring. I loved the second spur, heading east on The Ridgeway. It was my first time running on The Ridgeway and aside from the initial four miles, which was on the other side of the Thames, it was an absolute joy - narrow, hilly & windy for the most part. I must have been tiring as I neared the 50 mile mark but I felt as if Iād spent all of miles 25 through 50 with a massive grin on my face, enjoying every moment, even the uphills. Perhaps it was a runnerās high, perhaps it was the fact that the trail was new and I relished the sense of adventure. The third spur heading west on The Ridgeway would see my race peter out earlier than I would have liked. Having reached the turnaround point at Chain Hill, my forward progress had slowed to an aimless stagger, not much faster than a shuffle, and at 72.6 miles, I climbed into the back of a car and went home. Normally, if I end a race with a DNF, Iām prone to feeling a deep sense of regret, noting what Iād done wrong and what I could have done differently, feeling determined to run again and prove my mettle. This time, Iām sorry that I didnāt get my finisherās buckle but I feel I made the right call. I do want to run the race again. Of course, there will an element of proving my resolve; however, I want to run again because up until I called it a day, I was having the time of my life. I think Iām drawn to the notion of adventuring and actually, thatās not limited to just ultramarathons. I fell short of 100 miles but the A100 is an incredible event, varied terrain, enjoyable views and camaraderie amongst the entire field runners as everyone crosses paths with everyone else, from the very zesty frontrunners to those bringing up the rear guard at the back. November October wasnāt just all about the A100. Two days before the race, I had seen a postĀ on social media about a certain race taking place at the end of May next year. Itās a race that I heard about 7Ā½ years ago, it started me on my path towards ultramarathons and, well, it IS my destiny. After my first marathon in 2008, I indulged myself carelessly without thought of repercussion. I gradually became more and more overweight, developed niggles and eventually, stopped running altogether. It took a long time to get close to turning that around and I (very) slowly found my way out of the mire in 2011 when I started running half marathons again. In 2012, realising that I was no closer to my goal, I signed up for my first 50 mile ultramarathon. I feel competent (although not zesty) running 50 milers but have a pretty ropey track record with 100 milers. I think that I thought that there was going to be a time when I was āreadyā but now, Iām not so sure. When I stepped beyond the marathon distance, I just made it happen. For me to achieve my goals and realise my dreams, I just need to make all of it happen. Sitting on the sofa will get me nowhere and I donāt want to look back in later years with regret at the things that I wanted to do but didnāt. So this year, I saw that post on social media, I put my name forward, I carefully read all of the information provided and submitted my application. Entrants are drawn by ballot, an event which took place at a pub in Buckingham last Friday evening and at sixteen minutes past midnight, I clicked refresh on the web site ... there was a list but a list with no names. I clicked refresh again and the list appeared, names included. I purposefully scoured the list and lo, my name was there!! I was so over the moon but wasnāt able to share the moment with anyone as both the wife and baby were sleeping peacefully. Next year on 28th May, at 6.00am, Iāll be lining up at the Gas Street Basin in Birmingham and following the Grand Union Canal for 145 miles, eventually arriving at Little Venice in London. My wife knows what this race means to me, especially as the tables at our wedding reception were named after ultramarathons around the world and we sat at the Grand Union Canal Run. Iām so excited and am finding it hard to think of anything else. Itās only 6 months 21 days until I toe the start line... āNorth, Miss Teschmacher, north!!ā
