Training for the 2009 MdS - 10

Well, it's been a long time since I last posted here.  In the meantime, a lot has happened - too much, one might say.

First of all, and most importantly in terms of running, I finally did my first full marathon - in Füssen, southern Germany at the end of July, and it went off far better than I expected.  Having been plagued with yet another injury (this time, a torn calf muscle), I wasn't able to get in much training at all, but it went off fine.  I managed it in a time of 4:02:05, which is not bad for an old codger on his very first marathon.

Back in Chur after Füssen, I felt really strong with no aches or pains whatsoever.  Within three days, I was out running again, but then did something stupid - two very strenuous hiking/running days in the mountains above Chur, which caused my left tibia to ache like crazy.  I thought nothing of it, and two days later, decided on a 50-km run/hike from Liechtenstein back to Chur.  I had hardly achieved 10 km when my leg announced, that it was not going to work anymore, and let out a massive burst of pain.  I ended up almost crawling to the road, from where I caught the bus, and train, back to Chur.  I finally ended up at my sports doctor, and he confirmed by greatest fear - a tibial stress fracture - this is a thin break in the bone, caused by over-use, and makes sense because a marathon causes micro-trauma to the muscles and bones, even if one feels really good afterwards.  A period of recovery is essential - I had totally ignored that and, not only did I not allow recovery, but I did some extreme training, and the result was not surprising.

Since then, I've had to cancel my participation on marathons in Berlin, Lucerne and Locarno, and have been able to do nothing else than bike and swim, plus gym; and later, as the break started to heal, a fair amount of mountain hiking, but no running whatsoever.  I did keep myself fit, and feel, at the moment, fitter than I have ever been in my life, but my running per se will certainly have taken a knock back.

Anyway, I have just been to my sports doctor again, and he is convinced, I can finally start running again from today, but only small distances - no more than 5 km at a time, twice a week, slowly increasing.  I'm very happy at last, because the last four months have been filled with frustration for me, and there have been times when I have almost given up the whole lot and packed it in.

On 6th December, I'm taking part on my first ultra-marathon - 78 km through the Brecon Beacons in Wales (http://www.beaconsultra.com/ ). Of course, not having been able to train properly, I won't be able to run much - probably just the first few kilometres which are flat and alongside a canal, after which the terrain is pretty hilly.  Fortunately, though, I've been doing a lot of hiking lately in the mountains around Chur, and this will aid me greatly in the Beacons.  Vicky is going to be doing it with me, and we'll keep together all the way.  The event is a double route - i.e. twice around, and we'll see how things go by the end of the first round.  Should we tackle the second loop, we're going to be doing it in the dark, so head torches will be the order of the day.  Vicky and a few others from the forum have been out to Brecon in the last month or so, and apparently parts of the route are very stony/rocky - not the best conditions for night events, but still.  Back here in Chur, I've been doing some night hiking as well, to get used to it, and really enjoy it, despite the incredibly sense of isolation one feels.

Back to Brecon: I fly over to London 3rd December, and will be away a full week, spending time in London, Hampshire and Wales.  It's going to be very exciting, and I can hardly wait for it.

Regarding to 2009 MdS - all is go for it, I'm fully registered and paid-up, and am looking forward to it with immense elation.  The hardest part, of course, is going to be training here in Switzerland in winter for an event that will be taking place in the desert at temperatures of up to about 48°C!!!!!  Could be fun.

I am frantically organising kit lists, food lists, and so on for both Brecon and the MdS - it's a huge amount of work, although very interesting, I must.  Of course, there is a lot of contradictory information "out there", and it's hard to know which to follow.  The most important learning will take place on both events themselves.  Learning by doing, although a certain amount of prior knowledge is salient.  The plan is, that I am going to do the MdS in 2011 again with Vicky, so what we learn in 2009 will stand us in good stead for '11.

Now that I am really back into my training, I shall try and keep this blog current.

My Training for the 2009 MdS - 9

It's a hot Sunday evening, and I'm out on the verandah, after a weekend of much death, but some great training for my beloved MdS. The unofficial temperature today in Chur reached around 35°C (the official weather station is down near the Rhein, where it's always much cooler than in the town and surrounds), and the humidity was a sultry 65%; in addition, a southerly wind (the Föhn again) was blowing, albeit very lightly, and the Saharan dust, which has been hanging over Europe for the last week, returned to turn the sky murky and desert-like. Yesterday, however, was a humid, muggy sort of day, with intermittent showers and light storms, and I was really nervous about precipitation hitting our town towards evening. As fortune would have it, we were spared any rain after 3:30 p.m., which gave the ground time to dry and prepare itself for the thunder of runners' feet through the Altstadt of our pretty little town.

I registered several weeks ago for the annual Churer Lauf-Parade, which took place yesterday for the ninth time since its inception. It's run through the oldtown (Altstadt) of Chur, along the little lanes, curving perilously, paved at times with cobble stones, and filled with character and history. It's an unusal race - really a fun thing, more than anything else. There are several categories of events, including kids alone, families, partners, teams, clubs and, for the first time this year, individual runners. The whole event started at 17:30 hours - the kids' races. The race for individual runners and families, started simultaneously at 18:45 hours. The event is 4,6 km long, and involves seven loops, each of 660 metres. Living in the Altstadt, I know the route like the back of my hand, but had never actually run it before. It's basically quite flat, but there is one stretch up the so-called Reichsgasse, which, after a while, becomes damn steep!!!!!

After quite a hectic day, domestic- and business-wise, I set off around 17:30 hours on a 4-km warm-up run along the river in front of our house, called the Plessur. It's a comfortable run, with no surprises, and I have run it a thousand times (or less), sometimes even after a few beers. It generated a good sweat in me, and I felt ready for my big event when I returned home. Our good friends, Rolf and Brigitte, came over the Arcas square (on which we both live) around six o'clock, and we wandered down to the starting area on the square known as Kornplatz. There were thousands (maybe hundreds - Chur is too small for thousands!!!) of people around. The kids' races were just finishing, and there was an atmosphere of jubilation and juvenlie excitement in the air. I've never run such a short race before, and wasn't sure how to prepare for it. Nonethelss, after collecting my complimentary T-shirt and bicycle light (!!!), furnished with my number bib (No. 501), I stood around the start area with Kurt, Rolf and Brigitte, and became progressively nervous as I saw the calibre of some of the individual runners, as well as the teams. Most of the runners had registered for relay races, which meant, they would be running only 2 of the 660-metre loops, and not consecutively. My kind were to do the whole route, non-stop, no wine en route, and as fast as possible.

Shortly before the warm-up spectacle began, I received a lovely surprise: our best friends, Rita and Mohammad, turned up to support me. I had had no idea they were coming - I had not expected them at all, because they're not really into this sort of thing. But, there they were, as large as life. It was a great morale boost. Obviously, living here, I saw a number of other people, whom I know, and there was a carnival atmosphere about the whole thing.

At 18:30 hours, the aerobic exercises started, for those who wanted to try out this exercise in bodily co-ordination. I think, it's an age thing, because I cannot stand in front of a woman, perched on a stage, and copy her aerobic exercise movements, but emulate her movements, getting the left-or right-hand-side correct. My brain just won't swap the sides before me around. And co-ordinate hands above the head, and legs flying out at the side at the same time - forget it - I am incapable. Several kids were viciously kicked in the process, and the legal implications are going to ruin me. Fortunately, other good friends of ours were with me (running as a family team), and the father (Elmar) was having the same co-ordination difficulties!!!!!

Finally, at 18:43 hours, we all stood at the starting arch, and the countdown began. This was going to be fun, as the families, often with very young kids, were taking off at the same time as the adult individual runners. Death, en route, was an inevitability. For some strange reason, I found myself at the back of the pack, which caused me a lot of stress when I began the forward movement. I had set my heart on 25 minutes for the race, hoped for 20 minutes, and decided to surprise myself. Once the starter's gun shot a thousand swallows out of the sky, and I had managed to hurdle 45 000 youngsters, I achieved a pace which I knew, I would never be able to maintain for a full marathon - I was averaging about 3:30 minutes per kilometre (in fact, according to my Garmin 305, I had a maximum pace during the first 600 metres, of 3:10 minutes per kilometre). At my advanced age, there is no way, I'd be able to sustain this pace for an entire marathon, but I knew it was a short distance, and tried to stay as fast as I could.

The corners, at that pace, were criminal, and there was many a terrifying moment, when I felt sure, my face would end up engraved with road patterns. Fortunately, this never came to pass, and I had an accident-free race. I recognised many people en route, whom I knew, and there were often loud cheers of "Hopp, Craig" (a Swiss cheer - basically meaning - Go, Craig). This gave me a lot of encouragement, as I sped along the lanes and mini-lanes of our historic town. Arriving, for the first time, back at the start on the Kornplatz, my fan club (Kurt, Rita, Mohammad, Brigitte and Rolf) cheered me on vociferously. I had chosen not to use my iPod for this race, and it was fun actually hearing, what people were shouting.

At the end of loop one, most runners exchanged batons with the next runners, but we individuals rushed on, undeterred by the mass of trampled bodies. And, so it went on, seven times, with each time the Reichsgasse becoming steeper and steeper, finally feeling like a climb up Mittenberg!!!! The support along the entire route (times seven) was fantastic, and it was as if the whole of the town was out, cheering us runners on. I experienced a lot of high-fives with kids (and adults), to the extent, that I had to stop, due to bleeding hands (almost!!!!). There was even a band on the square next to the cathedral, playing carnival music (in Swiss-German: Guggamusik) - a great boost to the morale. I must admit, I couldn't keep up the 3:30 minutes per kilometre pace, but my average pace was 4:05, which is still one of the fastest I have achieved. I knew it was only 4,6 km, so the psychological pressure of a marathon was not evident, and I could (as is said in Swiss-German) give gas!!!!

It was such a fun, fantastic, familial, festive race, and I wanted it to go on forever. Finally, I ran down the Herrengasse (literally translated: Gentleman Lane) to the Kornplatz for the final time. There was a young guy (about 20 years of age) in front of me, going hell for leather. My only thought was: I'm going to beat you, you young brat!!!! Casting caution, calf injuries, age, coronary risks and catatonia to the winds, I gave gas, and sped down the last 100-metre stretch to the Ziel (Finish). I overtook the whippersnapper, going at a pace, according to my Garmin 305, of some 2:50 minutes per kilometre - pretty fast for an old codger, but it felt so damned good, overtaking a 20-year-old with calf muscles the size of my thighs!!!!!! I really sprinted the last 100 metres.

Finally, the Finish, but chaos. There was a queue, and it took a good minute for my barcode to be scanned. My trusty Garmin 305, however, gave me a time of 18:05 (18 minutes and five seconds). I was ecstatic, and filled with self-pride (who says pride is a sin?????). Grabbing a drink (no, not wine, but a local Swiss drink called Rivella) and half a pineapple (it could have been, I was that hungry, but was, more than likely, a banana), and found my fan club. There were lots of congratulations and bowing before me, but no hugs and kisses - probably due to the fact, that I was sweating profusely!!!!!

It had been a wonderful (and short) race, and my current calf injury remained dormant for the entire race. I was dying to know my placing, but had to wait before it was published. It was celebration time, and we set off back to the Arcas square to the restaurant Los Tioz (formerly Lett, for those of you who know it). That half-litre beer I had didn't touch sides. Gosh, it felt great. Towards 8 o'clock, we made out way back to Kornplatz for the prize-giving, and it was then, that I discovered, that I had come fourth in the Individual Runners category, two minutes behind the guy who came first, and first in my age group. What jubilation. Rita and Mohammad had to leave then, but we went to another restaurant with Rolf and Brigitte, and had a lovely celebration dinner and drinks.

It had been a great race, lots of fun, especially being on one's own doorstep, in one's own town. Support was fantastic, and I already look forward to next year's event.

Today even started off a hot day, and, as mentioned, by 3 p.m., it was 35°C. I set off on a longish run, shortly after 1 o'clock, heading along the Rhein towards the town of Untervaz, where I did a u-turn, and headed back to Chur along the Rhein, but then continued to the military area, called Rossboden. Regrettably, my calf muscle injury kicked in at this point. It hurt like buggery hell, and I decided, instead of running further, as I had planned (wanted to do a 30-km run), it would be more sensible (like HM's shoes), to turn and head home - another four kilometres. I ended up having to walk the last three kilometres, but you can bet your last penny, I ran the final 200 metres onto the Arcas square, which was filled with people in the outside restaurants!!!!! I mean, my reputation was at stake!!!!!!!

And thus, endeth a lovely weekend. I have iced my calf, drunk copious amounts of wine (for medical reasons), and am now about to watch a few episodes from one of my favourite British TV series, My Family on DVD. Tomorrow is going to be a hell of a day in the business - yet again. We already have two bodies, have fired one of our employees, and have to integrate the new one.

A final comment: I love running!!!!

Too much going on in my life.....a few thoughts....

It's a very damp, cold Sunday. My calf muscle tear is healing nicely, because I have stopped running for a while, but I now have an excrutiatingly sore left knee, and, based upon my self-diagnosis, I believe it's so-called Runner's Knee. I cannot walk down stairs without a great deal of pain and discomfort. Not too sure what to do about it, but will probably make an appointment with my sports doctor so he can examine it. It's all a little too much at the moment, because I have the Churerlauf in two weeks' time (this is just a short, 4,9-km race through the Altstadt (old town) of Chur), and have decided to do the Half Marathon Plus (i.e. 25 km) in Liechtenstein on 14th June. In other words, all this nonsense has to clear up post haste, so I can get down to some serious training again.

There is a little too much going on in my life at the moment, and I feel somewhat overwhelmed. When I run, it helps me cope with all this pressure, but when I am incapacitated, I feel submerged in a sea of stress and confusion. Putting it metaphorically, the motorways of my life are congested right now, and I need to find an off-ramp, so I can escape to the peace and tranquility of a quiet country road.

In between bodies and other matters, this weekend, I have taken to tidying and re-organising my library in my study at home in Chur. It's a daunting task, but I am almost complete now. I am sure, I have more books than a small regional library. Being somewhat chaotic of mind, I tend to let my study (which represents me, my kingdom and my being) manifest the way I am. It's always spotlessly clean, but chaotic in organisation (or disorganisation) - try to find a Latin dictionary here, and you will have to look, more than likely, in the books on meteorology or esoterics. Anyway, I set about trying to bring some order into my chaos, and now feel satisfied, that if I want my Latin dictionary, it's amongst the books on physiology - simple!!!!!

I then sat on the couch here, drinking a fine South African red, looking around at my books, and decided to jot down, that which represents my life in my books. The list is somewhat considerable, but I shall publicise it here in categories, with no level of priority:

marathon/ultramarathon-running; fitness; meteorology; vulcanology; deserts; earthquakes; other earth sciences; medicine, anatomy, and physiology; Africa/South Africa - history, politics, geography; travel; running and ultrarunning; bodybuilding; nutrition and metabolism; La Légion Étrangère (the French Foreign Legion); Naziism and the Occult; the former South African Defence Force (SADF) and its operations; Charles Schultz's Charlie Brown and Peanuts; the English language, grammar and literature (in particular: D.H. Lawrence, William Shakespeare, J.R.R. Tolkien, Joseph Conrad, etc.); languages: German, French, Italian and Arabic; esoterics (this covers a multitude of topics, some of which are best left unmentioned because they are rather controversial in nature); Scotland (home of my ancestors); the cartoons of Giles; anything to do with Monty Python/John Cleese; Spike Milligan and the Goon Show; Switzerland and Liechtenstein; psychology (especially physiological psychology); the United States Marine Corps; philosophy; horror movies; the psychology of war; viniculture. Whew, quite a list, but that's me. I also enjoy reading novels, particular those of Robin Cook, John Grishman, Dean Koontz, Tom Sharp, Roald Dahl and Dan Brown.

I joined the Rosicrucian movement in the UK a few years ago, but found, that it was incredibly expensive, and questioned, whether or not the organisation was more interested in making money, than expounding its philosophies (which I do find terribly interesting); I also, in a fervour of philosophy and searching for the meaning of life, joined the Order of the Jarls of Baelder, but this, too, came to nothing, as I am too far away from the headquarters in the UK.

Whilst in my enthusiasm for organising my study, I also categorised my magazines, all of which I receive, as subscriptions, by mail. Here again, whew, what a list - however, I have decided to rationalise, and not renew several of the annual subscriptions, not because I don't like them, but rather due to the fact, that I don't have the time to read them all; the ones I am keeping include UltraRunner, UK Runner's World, Country Life (South Africa), Képi Blanc (French Foreign Legion magazine, in French), GO (South Africa), Travel Africa.

Looking at the above, I see an incredible sense of categorisation in it all. My life is anything but that - it's the epitome of chaos. I am not an organised, disciplined person, but I do make, on frequent occasions, an effort to become organised - it lasts a while, but then the chaos sets in again. I must say, I like the chaotic side to my life, and am not averse to it at all. I just find, that it places me in conflict with so many others, and this is a cause for concern.

And, outside, the rain is coming down in torrents. What is all this, then, that is going on in my life? Well, there's the business itself (a major source of stress); the renovations in our other house in Carona; the renovations in Kurt's late parents' apartment above us here in Chur; the forthcoming renovations in our apartment when we integrate the apartment next to ours into one large dwelling; our staffing concerns in the business; relationships in general; the injuries I seem to have on a constant basis; not having nearly enough time in life to do the things I want to do; a never-ending HATE of taxes and the tax department; ageing (I accept my age, but fight against it nonetheless); fear of dying (I may be an undertaker, but death is something that comes ever nearer, and I have no time for it within the next 279 years); concern about my family in South Africa; finances (I guess, a universal worry); why summer in Switzerland is so short. Believe it, or not, these are the things which can keep me awake for hours at night (and do) - I am a born worrier. I'm 51 going on 97, and will worry, 'til the day I die, which, given the above, may only be in the year 2287.

Well, it's time to stop. That book, which so many people have suggested/implored/threatened that I write? - believe me, it will come, one day. Not only, do I need the money, but it's one of the things, I think about consistently.

Aftermath of the cancelled race....

Thanks to the calf muscle tear in my right leg, I had to cancel my much-looked-forward-to Grand Prix de Berne 16-km race in the capital city on Saturday last. I'd really needed to get away from death and the business, and couldn't wait for the race, when this unfortunate muscle injury occurred. On Saturday, I tried not to think about what was going on in Berne, but it wasn't easy.

However, I did decide to do the sensible thing, and take a break from running for a while, so that the injury could heal itself. I have no more race dates set until the Berlin Marathon on 28th September, but need to go through the list of upcoming races, and see where I could take part. Whilst the MdS is my ultimate middle-future goal, I need a few other near-future goals, because I really enjoy racing.

On Monday last - a holiday here in Switzerland - I went for a bike ride with Kurt. We did around 40 km, taking it easy, and stopping off for a beer in Felsberg. I'd hope to go further and a tad faster, but held in the reins, and enjoyed it. Cycling has no effect on my injured calf muscle.

On Tuesday, due to various factors, I was in a deep low, and decided, I needed to get away for a day, be on my own, and go for a long bike ride. On Wednesday, I would take a break from undertaking (my first in seven weeks, which is far too long), and head off for the day on my mountain bike (see photo above). The weather had been perfect for over a week, and Wednesday was to be no different.

Consequently, on Wednesday morning, I rose at the usual time, readied myself for a day's riding, and set off around 9 o'0clock. My plan, was to ride to Liechtenstein, through this little principality, and across the border to Austria, possibly even heading further north to southern Germany. On Tuesday evening, I had used GoogleEarth to map it all out, and it seemed possible.

I set off from Chur, heading down towards the Rhein at Haldenstein, and followed the usual cycle/hiking track through Zizers, Landquart, Bad Ragaz and then north of Sargans to where the Rhein turns from its northwestwards flow to head basically due north, creating the natural boundary between Switzerland and Liechtenstein. It was quite cool when I set off, but I had on my Nike running jacket, which kept me quite warm. By Zizers, though, I was already hot, and removed the jacket.

From my running, I have been learning how to nourish myself on longer runs, and decided, this applies to cycling as well. I had along with me two Gatorades, and a PowerBar, plus water, all of which I started ingesting at regular intervals, in addition to which I also bought myself a large tuna roll and a huge banana on the way. For a change, I found, that the home route, when I returned to Chur, was not nearly as physically stressful as it usual is after a long ride (and my ride on Wednesday was very long - for me), and I put it down to proper nourishment.

Back to the outbound journey - following the Rhein on its northward track, I crossed the hiking and cycling bridge over the mighty river to Balzers in Liechtenstein, and then rode on the sealed route along the levee, which canalises the Rhein all the way to the Bodensee (Lake Constance). There were quite a few cyclists around, and it was interesting to see the various kinds of people enjoying the Rhein - entire families out for a ride, elderly folk getting in some exercise, top-fit guys and girls thundering along on their racing bikes, people like me just out for the day and cross-training for the MdS!!!!, and so on. Quite a few ladies' groups also seemed to have chosen yesterday for a cycle - that's all very nice, but I wish they would realise, that they can't ride ten abreast and block the entire cycle route.

The weather forecast for the Rhein valley had been for northerly winds, which meant, I would have had a headwind in the morning, and a tailwind for the return journey when I was tired. Chance is a fine thing, and I ended up with the exact reverse!!!!! Anyway, on I rode, the Rhein to my left, and beautiful Liechtenstein to my right, passing by the towns of Balzers, then Triesen, followed by the principality's capital of Vaduz. Prominent on the mountain side above the town, is the castle of the royal family of this mini-country (photos can be seen on my flickr.com site). Once I had reached Vaduz, I decided to follow what is known as the Leichtensteiner Rheintalroute for cyclists (the cycling route for the Valley of the Rhine on the Liechtenstein side). It steers clear of the towns (mostly) and meanders through beautiful agricultural and forested areas. Vaduz is 40 km from Chur, so off I set on the meander, heading northwards. It really was very tranquil and enjoyable, and I stopped often to take photos, and enjoy the scenery.

Before I knew it, I was in the north of Liechtenstein, and had arrived at the Austrian border - nothing, other than a post which proclaimed entrance to the Republik Österreich. For motorists, there are still customs and passport control posts wherever roads cross the border from Switzerland into the European Union. The foreign affairs and defence of Liechtenstein are controlled by Switzerland, so between Liechtenstein and Austria, there are border controls as well. However, for cycling and hiking, there are no controls at all, which is very sporting of the EU. Switzerland has joined the Schengen Agreement, and all borders between us and the EU are due to come down some time soon. The original date was 1st November this year, but there seems to be a political delay, and who knows when this will happen.

Anyway, across into the EU I rode, my heart still set on Germany, until I saw large thunderstorm clouds over the north, and decided against it. There were also storms evident over the Swiss canton of St. Gallen to my left, and I was pretty nervous, that they would flow over the mountain barrier of Alpstein, and hit the Rhein valley - fortunately, this did not happen. Having decided not to ride to Germany (which would have been another hour or so to the north), I concentrated on the western Austria area in which I found myself, and decided to head west to the point where Switzerland, Austria and Liechtenstein share a common border. In front of me, though, was a mini-mountain ridge, which could either be crossed, or circumnavigated. I chose the former route, which, on the map of the area I found at a bus stop, described itself as a hiking track. It looked more like a mountain road which headed up through the forests, so, engaging a lower gear, I set off upwards and upwards and upwards. It was absolutely beautiful, albeit tiring, but I liked the solitude and peace of this dense forest through which I was riding. I finally came to a fork, the upper way changing to a small footpath, quite unsuitable for a bicycle, and the lower route heading back down the ridge past a castle and church (which suddenly appeared in the middle of the forest). I had no choice, and took the right fork, only to find, that I was heading rapidly downhill to near the point at which I had started the ascent - the circumnavgiation would have been right after all. Back down in the valley, I came to the main road around the ridge, and was in some heavy motorised traffic for a while until I finally came to another wide agricultural area, the road across which lead to the little village of Bangs - there are some very strange names of towns and villages in Austria!!!

It was getting quite hot by then, and I had to apply suntan lotion to my exposed arms for fear of them burning to a crisp - the joys of a European "tan"!!!!! From Bangs, I found the narrow cycle track which heads back south, and this marked the northernmost point of my journey. From then on, it was back towards Chur. As I crossed the unmanned border into Liechtenstein, I came across what must be an historic border sign, describing Austria as the Empire of Austria!!!! It was quite ornate, and brought back tales of the empire from history lessons in school!!!!!

Back in the mini-principality, I turned back towards the Rhein to the point where the three countries meet, and had a break while I took some photos, and checked all my instruments. As the crow flies, the north-south extent of Liechtenstein is about 25 km. I was then in the extreme north, about to head to the extreme south, although it was a lot further than the flight of the crow!!!! I decided to follow the Rhein this time, and cycle the whole way along the sealed levee. It did become a little boring after a while, although the mountain scenery all around is spectacular without a doubt. The headwind - fortunately not strong - was a trfile annoying, but did not dampen my spirits.

On and on I cycled, until finally I reached the cycle/hiking bridge across the Rhein near Balzers, back over to the Swiss side. The route back to Chur was pretty much the same as my outward route, the only difference being, the thunderstorm clouds which were building up over the peaks, and threatening to release their precipitational and electrical loads upon poor old me. However, I was lucky, in that I got back to Chur without any problem, and headed straight for Café Arcas on the square of that name in the Altstadt, on which our house is located. I ordered the largest, coldest beer they had, and enjoyed every mouthful.

I'd had a really great day of cycling, and had seen so much of the countryside. I know Liechtenstein well, but it's different by bike than by car, and I will do his trip again. I'd covered 130 km, and felt in excellent condition as I drank my beer. My calorific expenditure that day had been 4280 kcals, so I could afford to quaff a brew or two.

A hot spa bath a short while later, did the world of good, and I felt well-exercised and happy once I emerged. Even today, I have no sore muscles, aches or pains, and even my rear is not at all sore after a long time in the saddle. It had been an extraodrinarily beautiful day. Did I sleep well last night? Hmm, not too badly, but not right through - I had a few hours of wakefulness in the wee hours, again.

In retrospect, it was just as well, that I did not go to Germany, because it would have meant me arriving back in Chur about two or three hours later, exactly when a storm hit our town!!!!

I enjoy biking very much indeed, and would like to do more; however, running is my priority, and I'll do biking (in terms of long rides like this one) when I feel like a break from running, or have an injury which makes running impossible. Actually, part of the route on which I cycled back comprises the 50-km solo run, with rucksack, I have planned for summer. I must say, though, it's a lot quicker by bike!!!!!

Today is another beautiful day, weatherwise, but I'm back with the bodies. From tomorrow, however, there is awful weather expected, with a return to lower temperatures and lots of rain.

Injury - yet again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, the calf problem from yesterday turned out to be a muscle tear, and I have had to cancel my participation on the race in Berne. Right now, I don't want to talk about it, I am that gutted.

More, once I am in a better frame of mind.

My Training for the 2009 MdS - 8

Thursday's run was a recovery run, which I really did try to run at a slow pace. However, this is not something I am very good at - slow running - and explains the injuries I have had to date. Nevertheless, I did manage to stick to a pace of 5:24, and covered 8 km.

At one stage, though, I changed my mind suddenly about my route, and did a dramatic change of direction, causing my right leg to twist grossly. I felt an immediate pain in the lower part of my right calf muscle, which followed me all the way home. It was quite painful in the evening, and I iced it twice, which did seem to help. I also took an Ecofénac before bed, just in case. There is only a slight hint of discomfort this morning, but I'm having a rest day today, anyway, so hope the little injury will be better by tomorrow's race in Berne. (For the race website (in German), see: http://www.gpbern.ch/cms/aktuelles.phtml).

I'm very much looking forward to the Grand Prix de Berne. Apparently, it's a very festive time in the capital city, and the atmosphere is phenomenal. The weather forecast is for perfect spring weather, with a maximum temperature of 25°C, and only partly cloudy skies. I'm going down alone by train, expecting to arrive around midday, so I'll have time to fetch my number bib, and view the exhibition, before my part of the race starts at 16:24 hours. My number is 16089. I see, from the starting list, that there are some big names from the running fraternity taking part - obviously many Kenyans, Ethiopians and Eritreans, but also our Swiss champion, and winner of this year's Tokyo Marathon, Viktor Röthlin, will be racing too. Great excitement. I'm going to stay the night in Berne in a small hotel, so at least I don't have to come charging home to Chur by train, and can do that on Sunday morning in a leisurely fashion. Really excited about Saturday.

My Training for the 2009 MdS - 7

This evening's run was wonderful, but also worrying - wonderfully worrying, perhaps - or worryingly wonderful? Whatever. Where was I?

I set off, with the intention of doing 18 km, and ended up doing just under 20 km, deliberately extending the run so I could go further than the 18 km envisaged. I hate restrictions, barriers, definite aims/goals, control (also self-control, but not rectal control). If the intention is 18 km, then I'll do 17 or 19, but not 18.

I try to vary my runs (not diarrhoea, silly reader) as much as possible, but find, that I am slowly having to start repeating at least parts of some. There just aren't enough trails and roads to satisfy my needs. I'll have to have a word with the planning department - the Ministry of Running Trails.

As I am wont to do, I headed off down to the Rhein, through the heart of the military area, where shooting practice was taking place - I wasn't in my disgustingly erotic shorts, so was in no danger of being used as RPG practice. Clarissa and Victor (camel spider and vulture, respectively) were at my heel and overhead (respectively) - the rest of the flange and ponce (respectively) were out boozing. I headed up towards Domat/Ems, running behind the solar panels which line the Autobahn for several kilometres, past the small town, across the bridge of the dam on the Rhein, and then hit the headwind as I returned to Chur on the other side of said river.

It was a good run, thus far, and I felt happy, and did not feel any strain after yesterday's 12-km jaunt. My hayfever is a trifle annoying, at the moment, and I sprayed my thinly-membraned nasal orifices with my hated cortisone spray before I left home (bit like American Express, I guess - never leave home without it). Anyway, shortly after entering the forest between the dam and the village of Felsberg, I felt the need to blow my nose, but had fortgotten to load myself up with tissues. Consequently, it was the nasal ejaculation method into the bushes. I hate doing this, but it was necessary. Regrettably, a gust of wind hit me as I did this, and a blast of the stuff arced back and went over my running vest. Bloody hell (and I say that deliberately) - it was pure blood. It's not the first time I have lost blood because of the spray, but it's the first time I had to run home with blood all over my white vest!!!!! The movie Black Sheep has nothing on the way I looked. Of course, every man and his dog was out cycling this evening, and I did get some very strange looks.

Back in Chur, I had the choice of a short route home (as I had planned with GoogleEarth, and which would have been 18,2 km), or another route, which would give me a few more metres, but included a nasty hillock. Being the pillock I am, I chose the latter route, and dripped a trail of nasal plasma all the way to the top, but was happy I had done it.

It was a satisfying run, and, since Sunday, I have run 64 km, so feel pretty happy with myself - but not complacement by any means. I have a short 8-km run tomorrow, then I'll have a break on Friday, prior to my Grand Prix de Bern 16-km race in the nation's capital, Berne (with an "e" at the end, in English!!), on Saturday afternoon.

One thing I noticed today is, that I must try something other than diluted Gatorade as a drink en route. When I am not running, I have no trouble digesting it, but when I run, it makes me feel somewhat queasy at times. I need to find a substitute.

And, it's soon time for new Nike running shoes!!! Mine really are too small. The blisters on my toe ends have blisters, I think my toes are rotting off, and one of my toenails is dark blue and looks set to release itself from its digital captivity.

Just for the records, the results for today's run (not marathon-winning, but not bad for me, even if I say so yourself):

Distance: 19,78 km
Average pace: 5:05 (including vicious hillock, and a few others nasties)
Time: 1:40:31

I do wish, that every route I take, did not end with the inevitable uphill back home!!! It's not intense, but after 20 km, it's noticeable!!! And so to bed, to dream of camel spiders, sand and Patrick Bauer (we're entering nightmare territory, here).

My Training for the 2009 MdS - 6

On Tuesday, I set out on a 12-km run which would involve some speed or tempo training. I have started using a marathon training plan from one of my running books (namely by Pete Pfitzinger), designed for someone who expects to run around 90 km a week, and training for a mara over 18 weeks. I have 22 weeks 'til the Berlin Marathon at the end of September, and shall use this programme, adjusted a tad to help me benefit from it as well for the MdS next March.

While on the subject of Berlin (which, in all probability, will be my first full marathon), I thought I'd jot down here, what my predictions are for my results on this race. I am aiming for 4h00, would like 3h30, but hope for 3h50. I wonder if this makes sense?

Anyway, yesterday, I set off on my 12-km run after a heavy day of death and being alone in the business, complete with overseeing the start of a facelift of our veranda, and renovations to the apartment above us. I was feeling a little tense, especially after having not slept well again the night before.

My route was from Chur down to Haldenstein, along the Rhein to Rossboden and the military area, and then back via Oberalpstrasse. As it turned out, it was a 12,07-km route, which was fine, and I did it in 1:01:30, average pace of 5:05. The speed part comprised 10 x 100-metre sprints, which actually were not as fast as they should have been, and took place along the Rhein. If I'd read the programme properly, I would have learnt, that a good rest in between speeding is vital - i.e. a good rest while still running. I sprinted 100 metres, ran for 200 metres, and then repeated this another nine times. My maximum speed was 2:43 or 22 kph. All-in-all, not too bad, but I'd like to get this sorted out and done properly. My homeward run, which is always uphill, and this time with a headwind, was rather slow, at an average of around 5:20, which caused me to become very irritated with myself, and caused an even further slowing-down. Ah, well, these things are sent to teach us.

This evening (Wednesday), I have medium-long run which means 18 km - down to the Rhein (what else?), along to Felsberg and further to cross the bridge at the dam on the Rhein, up to Domat/Ems, and then back to Chur - or the reverse (I'll decide, when I start). Pace will be about 5:05. There is a north wind blowing again, so I'll have a headwind on the way home - damn!!!

As I have said to a few mates on the MdS forum, this programme is somewhat structured, but I will try not to let it rule me, but rather I'll be flexible and use it, together with any variations, to my advantage. I feel happier, though, that I have something that may bring some discipline into my running - goodness knows, I need it because I do have a rather chaotic mind. When I was very involved with bodybuilding, I did experience a lot of self-discipline. Somehow with running, though, this hasn't been the case - probably due to the injuries, botching everything up for three months.

Well, that's the theory - now to put it all into practice!!!!!

My Training for the 2009 MdS - 5

On Sunday (4th May), we had, what can only be termed as, a perfect spring day. After weeks (months) of cold, miserable weather, with the odd warm day thrown in to confuse us mountain dwellers, spring hit us like a ton of bricks, bringing out shorts and t-shirts from storage long forgotten. Pale, translucent skin was finally exposed to Alpine sunshine, and one could sense a meaning to life again, with spring having finally sprung.

After being able to convince the powers-that-be that I really needed to get in a long run, I jumped into my new Nike lycra running shorts, donned the rest of the apparel, attached myself to the electronic gadgets, and set off down the Rhein valley to cover, on swift foot, a course I had mapped out on GoogleEarth the day before, and which should entail a long run of some 32 kilometres. I must just add, at this point, that GoogleEarth really is amazingly accurate, because, by the time I returned from my run, both my Nike/iPod and Garmin 305 gadgets showed a distance of 32,06 kilometres, and I followed exactly the route I had mapped out.

Leaving home in glorious weather, I exitted our house onto the large town square to the full view of the outside restaurant, which was full at the time, and felt a hundred amazed eyes, staring at my thin white legs, wondering what on earth obsesses one to go running in such beautiful weather. The antithesis clearly crossed my mind, as I pondered the sanity of spending all day in a restaurant when one could be out, making a physical investment in one’s future (I’ve just finished Mike Stroud’s book “Survival of the Fittest”, and am convinced, that he is right in what he says – I find it one of the most profound books I have read on human life in general, and, in particular, on the subject of exercise and keeping fit). I can honestly say, that I have always vowed, I would never end up a fat, lazy old man who needs someone to care for him. Unless I am stricken by some unfortunate ailment, I plan to do all I can to keep myself fit and able into my latter years, and I feel, I am going the right way about it – perhaps a drop or two less of wine might also aid in this goal, but otherwise I feel, I’m on the right track.

So, off I set, signals being received from above and below, and was soon on a steady, albeit too fast, pace, through town, down to the Rhein, and along the very good trail heading north to the town of Landquart, which was to be my turning point. I’ve cycled this trail more times than I can count, and it’s a nice quick ride, with a few nasty inclines to boot, and to keep one on one’s toes. Running it is a slightly different matter, and it was to be the first time, that I had done so – at least, as far as Landquart. I can’t access my running data online at the moment, because my Internet provider is doing maintenance, so I have to use my own memory, but I think my average pace for the first 15 km, was 4:35 per km (i.e. 4 minutes and 35 seconds needed for each kilometre). I really felt strong and energetic, even though I knew it was to be a long run, and I should have taken it easier at the start. Anyway, it wasn’t a race, and I could learn from it.

Landquart reared its head soon enough, and I found myself at the drinking fountain of the town’s railway station, availing myself of the clear, cold mountain water. Here was one of my lessons of the day. I had chosen not to run with my rucksack that day, but, instead, wore my 0,8-litre CamelBak, as I did on the Bündner-Frühlingslauf a week before. I had filled it with a diluted solution of Gatorade. At the drinking fountain, where I had a long aquatic halt, I wondered if I should refill the pouch, but decided I’d have plenty for the return run, which was another 17 km (a slightly different and longer route than the outward journey). The lesson: never forego the opportunity to replenish water resources on a long run. What a fool, because at km 18, I ran out of liquid, and was dying of thirst!!!!! There are usually so many drinking fountains around (most of them made out of granite, and often very ornate), that one almost trips over them, but, the time I needed one, there wasn’t a single fountain in sight, and I got home, literally gasping for water.

From Landquart, I headed away from the Rhein, and towards the mountains before crossing a large plain on which grow the solid form of my favourite drink – grapes, of course!!! As I progressed across the vineyards, I implored the fruit to grow faster, bearing in mind, their final bottled form, which would make me very happy. As I approached the town of Igis, the trail started ascending, and I was soon panting in the warm afternoon sun, my pace markedly reduced, but still constant.

On through this quaint little town, some of the older folk waving to me, a few kids riding their bikes alongside me, I made my way, along the undulating trail, and then road, to the town of Zizers, where the late, and last, Empress of the former Austrian Empire used to live before her death in the early 1990s – I ran past her castle, which is now used as a home for the aged, and a refuge for exhausted tax collectors and other such scoundrels. A few more nasty undulations, and down it was again, over the bridge across the Autobahn, and back to the trail along the Rhein.

It’s a long, slow incline back to Chur, but beautiful through the forests, next to the rapidly-flowing mighty Rhine River. Many people were out on their bicycles (lazy sods – they should have been running), enjoying the spring weather. By the time I arrived in the village of Haldenstein, just outside of Chur, I had well and truly run out of Gatorade, and I was very thirsty indeed. I could have run across the bridge into the actual village, but I reckoned, I had only another four kilometres to go, so I might as well head on home.

From Haldenstein, it is a significant rise to the Altstadt (“old town”) of Chur where our house stands, and I was becoming more and more fatigued without something to drink. I had taken a power gel in Landquart with the water I drank there, but I needed sustenance by the time I ran through Chur itself. Finally onto the Arcas square and there was our house door!!!! What a relief. Before Haldenstein, I had thought of running past Chur a few kilometres along the Rhein, just to add to the total, but I’m glad I didn’t, as I needed energy. I did the 32,06 km in exactly 2h50:00, and felt very happy with myself – another ten kilometres, and I’ll have a full marathon under my belt.

Once inside, and my raging thirst suitably quenched, I lay in a hot spa bath for ages, thinking about my achievement, and what I had learnt from it.

First of all, the water re-filling aspect – vital, and I should actually drink more as I run.
Secondly – lubricate, or cover with plasters, the nipples before a long run. After 32 km, they were sore to the extent, that I could hardly touch them.
Thirdly – get bigger running shoes. My Nikes are excellent, but after a long run, I find, that my toes rub a lot against the front of the shoes, and I ended up with four blisters at the end of my toes. Nothing serious, but still blisters – this meant, of course, that I could practise my blister management skills which I need to learn for the MdS next year. Time to get out my new book: A Boy’s Book of Feet, and study it well.
Fourthly – don’t be a hero, and start out a long run as though it were a walk in the park. Take it easy, so that strength is not all sapped in the first half, especially when the latter half is mostly uphill. The first fifteen kilometres saw me running at an average pace of about 4:35 per km; my overall average was 5:09, so obviously (and the statistics from the Garmin 305 verify this) there was a time of rather slow progress – and I admit to some fairly considerable distances of walking towards the end, although it was fast walking. There is no way I am going to walk on my first marathon in Berlin later this year – it’s run all the way, or die trying!!!!
Fifthly – stop wimping out about the rucksack, and wear it, no matter what. I’m not training for a little marathon thingy around some fancy city; I’m ultimately in training for the MdS – there is a difference.

Once out of the bath, I met Kurt, Rolf and Brigitte in the restaurant on the Arcas square, and became one of those who sits in restaurants on beautiful spring days – however, I felt, I had earned my drink (I had, after all, expended over 2300 kcals) so had no bad conscience – a 500-ml glass of ice cold beer could never taste better, than after a 32-km run!!!!!!

I had no aches or pains after my run, and even today (Tuesday), my legs feel fine. I do miss my mind, but the body is working well. I did have a break yesterday – mainly because I slept so badly on Sunday night (despite the physical exertion of the day), and was wiped out. I’ve set up a training programme for myself, based on some of the stuff Dan (djbleakmann), from the Forum, sent me, my own ideas, and a marathon training programme I acquired from one of my many books on running. It includes weekly long runs, hill (in my case, mountain) work, interval/speed work, and recovery runs, complete with the odd marathon and not-so-odd half maras and other races. This afternoon, for example, I’ll be doing a 12-km run, with 10 x 100 metres speed work thrown in for good measure. On Saturday, I have a 16-km race through the city of Berne (Bern) – our capital city. I’ve set my heart on Berlin at the end of September being my first full marathon, but it wouldn’t surprise me, if I do one before then, too. Time, and my legs, will tell.

My Training for the 2009 MdS - 4

It's been quite a week since that little race thingy. First of all - and I can't remember if I have mentioned this already - but I have acquired a place on the Berlin Marathon on 28th September. Note to self: lots of weeks in which to train, and get ready to show those Germans a thing or two!!!! Then - Martin and Susan, great friends of ours, from what we (in Switzerland) call the big canton - Germany - called and mentioned a possibility of me taking part with them on an Ironman competition in the vicinity of Nürnberg in mid-July - Susan will swim, Martin's responsibility is the biking, and my little task will be the full marathon!!!!! OK, that's in about 12 weeks. Hmmmm - oh dear, oh dear, oh dear........ I know I'll give a positive answer: this Marine answers in the positive Sir, yes Sir!!!!!!!! Bloody hell, I could have had such a quiet little life with my camel spiders - collecting bodies, reading, doing the ironing and watering the Triffids. But, no, not me - off I go, running and doing silly things in the Sahara and Germany!!!! We won't even mention Libya, Mongolia and South Africa at this stage. I mean: my mothers, in their plurality, even sent me a training programme for the Comrades Marathon in South Africa!!!!!

OK, let's get back to the recent past, and think about post-Bündner-Frühlingslauf......What the buggery hell happened after I crossed the finishing line? Nothing, really. The camel spiders and I shared a bottle of wine; Kurt took over the Bündner Nusstorte I received as a prize; friends, Rolf and Brigitte, arrived late, and I was able to give them huge, wet, sweaty hugs; we popped off to a pub for a swift pint. There were lots of compliments in the pub, 'til I took off my one Nike shoe to inspect a suspected blister, and offered Brigitte my socks as a souvenir, when the smell police arrived, and I was ordered out. I thought my feet had a certain je ne sais quoi.

Once the photos and fingerprints had been taken and dutifully recorded, the handcuffs removed, and the manacles taken off, we went home, and I lay in a hot spa bath for about an hour, while the camel spiders enjoyed the sun out on the veranda. I was tired, but incredibly happy, and that had nothing to do with the glass of SA red next to me.

Later that afternoon, we popped into town for important shopping - smoked salmon, Veuve Clicquot, blister plasters, and Aspirin. A quick visit to my favourite watering hole, Calanda, in the middle of town, was not out of the question, and a glass of local white went down very well indeed. I was still in my element, and almost drove Kurt mad with my tales of every step I took.

Anyway....... that evening, we went out to dinner in one of my favourire restaurants, Va Bene, in the complex in which is situated my wellness centre, to which I go each Wednesday evening for a 1000-metre swim, and a lot of time in the Finnish sauna, steam bath and caldarium, followed by a large glass of the best red, served by Anna, the barmaid of note.

Sunday was a happy day, full of rain and cloud, with thunderstorms to the north of us. The usual thousand litres of coffee over, a ton of müesli and organic orange juice, and the day began. I had no stiffness from my race, and felt energetic and happy - until a 'phone call came through, followed by another - DEATH!!!!! And all this, on a day, when we were supposed to go to the christening of a great-niece of Kurt. Ah, what a shame that I could not make it!!!! All that religious nonsense is worse than toothache, so I happily agreed to do one of the death cases, and to organise for one of our hideous employees to do the other.

My one was up in the ski resort of Arosa - high above Chur, absolutely beautiful. The driving distance is about 25 km, with about 365 curves (literally) in the road, but the views are beyond belief. I took it easy, and drove slowly up to this mountain paradise. I almost forgot the reason why I had gone there. I finally reached the house of bereavement, and did what I had to do. As I was about to leave, with the body in the back of the hearse, the little old lady, whose husband had died, suddenly clutched on to me, and started crying woefully. I put my arm around her, and she held on to me, face on my chest, crying hysterically. I felt so incredibly sorry for her, and put both arms around her shoulders, holding her to me, while she howled out her eyes. I have to admit to several quiet tears myself. Finally, she withdrew, thanked me from her heart, and I walked off to the hearse, my shirt dripping with salty tear-water, and smothered in make-up - why do women wear that stuff????? One does one's best!!!!!!

Back in Chur, Kurt arrived home around midday, after what, he claimed, was a horrid experience (serve him right, for getting involved), and I proclaimed, that I was off up Känzeli - the mountain in front of our house, for MdS training, complete with rucksack (Al Silcock will be happy to hear!!!!). The skies had cleared, the day was warmish (sort of -35°C - almost), and there was no way I was going to miss out on this. I dressed in sensible Bermuda shorts, a Ron Hill vest, my Nike runing shoes, and underwear beyond belief, but best left unmentioned........

With iPod/Nike and Garmin 305 gadgets functioning correctly, not to mention gear from the Karl van den Bergh Bondage Club, I set off..... The route sets off straight up!!! No warming-up, just straight-up. I shall add photos later. I started off running, but was soon reduced to a booze-induced crawl, it was that steep. Finally, I was in the forest, and it became even steeper. I am starting to hate Patrick Bauer!!!! Anyway, I had done this route a number of times, but not avec rucksack filled to capacity with food for the camel spiders!!!! The little buggers had so much fun, running all over the place, and can you imagine what a problem it is, trying to keep track of them?

Up and up we went, enjoying the views down to Chur (see flickr.com/injasuti). Like Mittenberg a week or so before, I/we was/were (those buggery camel spiders!!!) at the top of Känzeli in a time which made the mind boggle - not sure, anymore, of exact times (I'll look them up later, and add them), but it was something like 43 minutes instead of the usual 1:30.

So what? - at the top of Känzeli, but it's not the end of the world. Keep going, buddy. Onwards, and upwards.... MdS. And off I/we went................

Methinks, I should leave the rest 'til tomorrow. I have consumed 12 litres of fine SA red, a bottle of kirsch, 96 beers, and a quart of cream.

Whatever, it's all for the MdS, and buggery Patrtick Bauer. I shall continue. Belief me, the life of Craig Braithwaite and the Camel Spiders is not a quiet one. 'Til the morrow then.......

Cheers, and dune greetings,
Craig and Friends........

P.S. I shall do typing corrections tomorrow.......

A little race thing - Bündner-Frühlingslauf

On Saturday, 26th April, 2008, the so-called Bündner-Frühlingslauf took place. By way of explanation, Bündner is the adjective pertaining to the canton in which I live, Graubünden (in English, the Grisons); Frühlingslauf in English, means "spring run". This is a race which takes place between the town of Thusis, to the south of Chur, and ends 25 kilometres later in the sports centre of Chur. The route leads through spectacular mountain areas, through forests, along the Rhein (the Rhine River), across beautiful fields with snow-covered mountains soaring above all, not to mention the odd medieval castle or two.

Having not been able to run for nearly three months because of the Iliopsaos Tendon problem, I really had little hope for myself of being able to take part on this race. However, three weeks ago, when I realised, that my injury was actually improving markedly, and I could run again, I decided I would take part, and registered for the race. My training over the last few weeks, whilst not bad in terms of kilometres, was a bit of a worry, as it was somewhat sporadic due to the inclement weather and death duties, so I looked forward to this last Saturday with a certain amount of trepidation. My training runs, however, have been increasing in terms of distance, and I managed a good 26,3-km run about ten days before the race, which proved to me, that I would be capable of completing it, despite the inadequate training. Working out times, paces, etc., I decided on a time for the 25 kilometres of around 2:30:00 (i.e. two and a half hours), and yet hoped for around 2:20-ish.

I've also been enormously motivated by my decision to run, and acceptance on, the Marathon des Sables (MdS) in Morocco in March/April 2009. I had orginally planned to run this 250-km, seven-day, self-sufficiency race through the Moroccan Sahara only in 2010, but, due to various factors (mostly coercion and blackmail from fellow members of the MdS forum on the Internet (if you're interested, see: http://www.themds.co.uk/forums/index.php, and take a look at the pseudonym injasuti for all my alleged lunatic ramblings, to see what I have written there)), I decided I would enter for the 2009 version (probably as well as 2010, on the condition, that I survive 2009!!!).

On the Friday evening before the race, Kurt and I went down to the sport centre in Chur so I could fetch my number bib for the next day, and I was quite surprised to see, that my number was 11 - yes, eleven!!!! It certainly wasn't based upon performance, that's for sure, and I imagine the numbers were assigned randomly, as even the guy who came first (and has done so for nine years in a row), had the number 188. I was surprised to see, that the finishing line (in German: Ziel) was actually inside the ice hockey arena, which is somewhat unusual.

Anyway, that evening, I had been invited out to dinner by my MdS friend, Thomas, from Liechtenstein, here in Chur. His lovely wife, Lissi, came along, too, and we had a most amazing (for me, anyway) evening, with lots of laughs and discussions about the MdS, which Thomas had recently completed for the first time. What a lovely couple they are, and we're going to have them to dinner at our home sometime in the next few weeks. I learnt a huge amount about the race from Thomas, and he's agreed to show me his kit some time, so I can get a better idea of what is required. I must say, especially after having spoken so much to him about it, I can wait even less for March 2009. Of course, this all inspired me even more for the 25-km race the next day. Regretably, though, I had a very bad night's sleep, so was still very tired on the day of the race.

I had my kit and provisions all ready and laid out in the ironing room before I went out to dinner, but checked them all again at least four times, before I finally went to bed on Friday evening. On Saturday morning, an early rise was a must, and I was pacing the floor by 8:30 a.m., waiting for Kurt to get ready to drive me to Thusis. After a week of totally grotty weather, the skies had cleared to a deep blue, and the temperature was a comfortable 15°C, even at that time of the day (it later rose to around 21°C). Before we got to Thusis, though, we had to stop off in neighbouring Domat/Ems to drop off an urn at the cemetary - I must be the only runner who has undertaking work to do before a running race.

Finally we arrived in Thusis, and I was more than a bundle of nerves. I just could not keep still, and I even made the camel spiders nervous. We decided it would be best to go and have a cup of coffee first, but I was like a child sitting in front of a present-surrounded Christmas tree. The little town of Thusis was swarming with runners in various types of running apparel - some disgustingly erotic (like my shorts - although I was wearing the semi-erotic ones!!!!), and others that looked like pyjamas for the elderly. We made our way up to the school area where warming-up was taking place. While Kurt video-ed the surrounds, I took off on a series of short runs, did stretching, and consumed my power gel, before we finally made our way down to the start, which took place on the main road through this provincial townlet. I was quite conservative in my choice of electronic gadgets this time, and only took with me, my Garmin 305 and my iPod. However, I did decide to wear, for the first time, my Camelbak pouch which is worn on the lower back, with a strap around the front, with additional pouches for a camera, power gels, mobile 'phone, wine glass, etc. The main pouch is filled with liquid (mine, with a diluted quantity of Gatorade - it takes 800 ml), and has a tube with a special mouthpiece, from which one can suck liquid whilst en route. It turned out to be very useful, if somewhat unsightly to the eye; although some of the contraptions that people wore, were a sight for sore eyes for sure!!!!

Having not raced since the Zürcher Sylvesterlauf in mid-December, I really was in quite a state by the time the 414 of us were amassed, ready for the pistol. In an effort to contain myself, I started to focus upon what others were wearing and doing, and became quite alarmed, for example, when I saw a woman in front of me with her hair tied up with something, that looked not unlike a viper skin; or the man to my right, whose underwear (why wear underwear under running shorts???) was obviously causing him a certain amount of genitalic distress, and whose hands inside his shorts made him look like a dirty old pervert; not to mention the young lady behind me, who was wearing iPod earphones, and singing out loudly, oblivious to the stares she was attracting. It was a comedy of nervousness, and yet I was very glad and proud to be part of it all. I had one iPod earphone in my ear, stirring myself up with my favourite running song, "Major Tom", by the German singer Peter Schilling; with the other ear, I half-listened to all the announcements being made by the race organiser, warning us of narrow gaps in certain parts of the race, but to which hardly anyone listened. The start buttons on my iPod/Nike and Garmin 305 contraptions were ready for pushing, as soon as the pistol went off, thereby connecting me to signals from a sensor deep in my shoe, and to satellites high overhead, respectively.

Finally, the countdown began, and I felt the traditional welling-up of emotions within me, as I realised, that what has become my greatest passion in life (running, not wine, although.......), was once again coming to fruition.

Fünf, vier, drei, zwei ...... EINS ...... EXPLOSION and we're off...... with Major Tom blaring, now, in both ears!!!!! The start of the 22nd Bündner Frühlingslauf, and, this year, I was part of it!!!!!! One tenth the distance of the MdS, but what a good way to train for my greatest goal in my running life.

And thus, we switch to the present tense, as I am wont to do, when I compose a race report.

Ahead of me, lie 25 kilometres of absolutely beautiful country and mountain scenery. First of all, though, there is a run along the main road of Thusis, and the crowd of 414 sets off at quite a cracking pace, because it's all downhill at the beginning. I am about a third of the way back from the front, and can start within seconds of the pistol shot, although at what could only be described at first as a Sahara Shuffle. As the elite rush off into the distance, the rest of we mortals run on to set our pace, and achieve a sense of stability in our run. I had set an aim for my pace of around 5:05 to 5:10 minutes per kilometre, which is not bad for a post-injury run, if not a tad too fast, perhaps.

The first kilometre split: average pace: 4:42; average speed: 12,7 kph; highest speed: 18,9 kph; average heart rate: 166 beats per minute. All along tar, and downhill, with some vicious turns every so often. The start altitude is some 700 metres above sea level, but it feels like we have dropped 200 metres within the first kilometre - although hardly!!! The finish in Chur is at an altitude of 560 metres, but there are some criminal ascents in between - they are looming in the distance!!!!

The crowd of runners is starting to spread out as the elite and semi-elite charge ahead. At one stage, I look forward in horror, as I see runners far in front of me; however, a quick glance behind me, calms my fears when I realise, that there are an equal number of fellow runners behind me. I know, I keep saying, that I run for the joy of it, but there is most definitely a competitive streak within me, which, despite everything and all that is said, does like to do its best and compete with others.

On we run, and I start pacing myself with a guy of about 30 years old in front of me. He has what I and Major Tom consider to be a comfortable pace, and I keep behind him, glancing, from time to time, at the beautiful pastoral and mounatin scenery around me. It really is spectacular. At one stage, I am forced to jump over a huge splotch of blood right in the middle of what has now become a rural track. Who knows where that came from, or, indeed, if my undertaking expertise will shortly be required.

The next kilometre splits, which reveal, that my planned pace is not working, and perhaps I am going too fast, although it feels good:
Measured at km 2 - 4:56 min/km; 12,1 kph; 14,8 kph; 165 bpm
Km 3 - 4:56 min/km; 12,3 kph; 14,4 kph; 164 bpm
Km 4 - 4:55 min/km; 12,2 kph; 15,8 kph; 164 bpm
Km 5 - 4:55 min/km; 12,2 kph; 16,0 kph; 162 bpm

Km 5 sees the first watering hole, but I have my Camelbak with me, and need no extra fluid at that stage. I smile widely, as I try to non-vocally express my thanks to the helpers. Those people really are wonderful, and I reckon, they receive the least thanks from the runners. My running companion, whom we shall call Mervin, is still slightly ahead of me, but is starting to cough up blood, and I realise, it's just a matter of time, before I overtake him (and probably have to undertake him, too), and seek another pacer.

By this time, we are running steadily through beautiful green fields, then meadows upon which cows are grazing peacefully, waving wheat which, sure smells sweet, as the wind comes right behind the rain, Oklahoma..... methinks, we may be in the wrong musical here!!!!

To my left, the mighty Posterior Rhine (the Rhine, at this stage, is divided into two parts - Posterior and Anterior) carries the snow-melt rapidly northwards to lower areas, flooding Germany, and ultimately flowing into the North Sea at Rotterdam. But I digress....

Km 6 - 4:53 min/km; 12,3 kph; 18,5 kph; 162 bpm

I realise, that my pace is somewhat erratic within each kilometre, as the altitude of the route starts to undulate. I tend to thunder downhill, and then progress sedately up the next undulation. I realise, already, that my current average pace of below 5 min/km is not going to be maintained, so it'll end up a positive split, but what the hell, as it's my first race since four months, and I'll use it as a learning experience.

Km 7 - 5:10 min/km; 11,6 kph; 14,6 kph; 161 bpm - there are some nasty hills in this split, but the numerous kids along the way, high-fiving me like crazy, spur me on. A kindly farmer's wife offers my a glass of home-made red wine which causes a slight increase in pace towards the top of a particularly beastly incline.

Km 8 - 5:08 min/km; 11,8 kph; 15,3 kph; 163 bpm - these hills have to go. I have cycled this area many times, and don't remember them being so steep - beautiful, but not steep. Oh, well, ever onwards and upwards, and may Hillary beat Barack.

Km 9 - 5:50 min/km; 10,2 kph; 14,8 kph; 164 bpm - more vicious ascents, and steep declines, and then up again. For a while, I am completely alone in a deep, green valley. There are trees and cows, and I see a deer pounce off into the woods. I am all alone with Mike Batt singing "Run Like the Wind". This song was suggested to me by my MdS forum mate, Alan Crawford, and Al, for that, I thank you. It's a very inspiring song, and I had it playing at least five times on the Bündner-Frühlingslauf!!!!

Km 10 - 5:18 min/km; 11,4 kph; 17,4 kph; 162 bpm - again, some erratic paces - slow uphill, perhaps too fast downhill, but nice. I keep thinking about advice given to me by various mara runners - constant, steady pace; yet somehow on this race, with the undulations, it's not possible. Another watering hole (oh, for a swift pint!!!) and medication station ("Sorry, we do not give out Xanax!"), and I am soon at a major road intersection where are standing many people, high-fiving, spitting, cheering, releasing the dogs, and generally giving we runners a lot of encouragement. Suddenly, I spot Kurt with the video camera, and up go my arms in a gesture of cheer and happiness. Above the roar of Mary Throat-Boggler singing "Death to Runners" on my iPod, I call out to Kurt: "See you in Chur!". On I run........

Km 11 - 5:02 min/km; 11,9 kph; 14,0 kph; 162 bpm - with Barcaly James Harvest singing "Hymn", it's into the village of Rothenbrunnen, with the streets lined with little men and women from the village, dressed in traditional robes, bearing flamed torches, chanting weird hymns of a nationalistic nature, and spurring us on, as if our lives depended on it - and, in that village, they did!!!! I think, they were actually driving us out of the place!!!!

Shortly after Rothenbrunnen, the route starts to ascend dramatically onto what is know as the Polenweg - from what I understand, a track through the forest, which was constructed by Polish refugees during some little European skirmish, or other, around 1943. As mentioned before, I have cycled this route several times, but on foot, it's a different kettle of proverbial fish. It's up, up, up, up - and more up. Small steps, constant pace. Since Thusis, I have not stopped once to walk, and I am not stopping now. I feel strong, vibrant, erotic (or, at least, semi-erotic thanks to my shorts), and am strong-willed. In 11 months, I shall be running the MdS - this is no time to wimp out.

Km 12 - 5:05 min/km; 11,9 kph; 18,0 kph; 161 bpm - the sudden increase in maxium speed due to a challenge from a new pacing partner who suddenly decides he can run fast uphill; if he can, so can I!!!! The forests are beautiful and thick, as I pass the speedy competitor, and I gasp for breath at one stage, as a deer jumps out in front of me, and disappears into the trees ahead of me. Suddenly, I am aware of an aquatic tart hurling a scimitar at me, proclaiming me king of all the land, and I realise Major Tom is still above in his capsule, and is encouraging me to take a power gel, or I shall be floating weightless, drifting, falling.....

The halfway mark is well signposted - This is the Halfway Mark, says the signpost. Beneath it, someone has written: If you're not yet dead, you soon will be. I love honesty, and thunder past, reaching back for my power gel to give me nourishment for the second half of my race. I love the forests, the strong trees, the occassional small animal, my camel spiders who are my constant companions, and follow at my heels every step of the way. The field of running humanity has really spread out a lot, and I am now quite alone in the forest with my pacing companion, who has overtaken me again, his calves covered in mud as he speeds along the bepuddled route. I am also aware of my legs being bespeckled with mud, but it's a nice, athletic feeling.

Km 13 - 5:05 min/km; 11,6 kph; 16,7 kph; 162 bpm - there's a slight downhill, at the end of which is a beautiful clearing, right in the middle of the forest. Somehow, Mike Batt's "Ride to Agadir" seems somewhat incongruous in this amazingly silvan area. Fortunately, Mike's song ends, and Yazoo come long, singing "Happy People".

And up we go again to Km 14 - 5:43 min/km; 10,6 kph; 14,9 kph; 161 bpm - the steepest part of the race, and it shows!!!!!! There's a lot of mud, and also several doors in the sides of the cliffs, which indicate the myriad hidden warrens of the subterranean Swiss Armed Forces - I haven't said a word!!!!!!!!!

Deep in the forest is Km 15 - 5:00 min/km; 12,0 kph; 16,7 kph; 155 bpm - we're starting to go downhill again, and it feels good on the mind, but hard on the wooden legs. There's another watering hole and funeral director, and I whisk a carboard mug of some liquid from the hand of a smiling teenaged lass, as I thunder past, splashing her with mud, and down it quickly (the liquid, not the mud), but do not like the taste, so complement it with the diluted Gatorade from my Camelbak!!!!

Km 16 - 4:47 min/km; 12,4 kph; 15,9 kph; 162 bpm - this is THE big downhill, and is scary. A gym friend of mine was tragically killed here a few years ago, when he cycled down this decline, and went over the edge to his horribly premature death. We, as undertakers, had his body to deal with, and his wife and family were devastated, which is hardly surprisingly. I think of Jürg, as I run this decline, and hope he is happy and at peace, wherever he is. It's a sad few moments for me - such a terrible waste of human life.

Km 17 - 5:15 min/km; 11,6 kph; 13,8 kph; 163 bpm - just to show us, it's not all a walk in the park, another incline appears - not a whole one, but enough to annoy - and it's up we go again, behind the golf course of the town of Domat/Ems. I know, that from now on, it's mostly flat or downhill to Chur, so feel invigorated. My muddy buddy I have left far behind me - his knees broke on the sharp decline, and he collapsed into a ditch, with a scream of terror, soon after my wine glass hit his left temple. C'est la vie.

It's the home run, now. 18 km - 5:07 min/km; 11,7 kph; 14,0 kph; 162 bpm. It's flat now, and the sun is shining brilliantly. Since the demise of my previous pacing mate, I have latched on to another, and he runs in trepidation next to me, realising his eventual fate at the hands of a competitively-streaked undertaker. I remove my iPod earphones, and ask him, quite casually, if he has seen the movie Black Sheep, knowing quite well, what horror that would instill within him. The ensuing scene is horrible, but I have one less competitor.

Km 19 - and we're in Domat/Ems - perhaps one of the most boring places on the face of the earth. 5:19 min/km; 11,3 kph; 12,7 kph; 162 bpm. The reduction in pace is certainly due to having to wipe off the blood from my face. On, and on. I can see Chur in the distance. Bonnie Tyler's "Tyre Tracks, and Broken Hearts" floods my brain as I pace forwards, wondering if Kurt is somewhere in the vicinity, ready to video me.

Km 20 - 5:22 min/km; 11,1,kph; 12,4 kph; 162 bpm. It's getting hot, and I am starting to sweat profusely, but I tell myself, that on the MdS, this will be normal at 50°C, so shift that butt, and get going towards Chur. Shortly afterwards, a copse of trees, and a watering hole. I have been sipping my diluted Gatorade religiously, but need something else now - ah, lack of wine is starting to make itself felt!!!!! My mind turns to psychological warfare and secret societies, as I thunder in to the refreshment station. With esoteric thoughts, I grab an outheld cup of something, and down it - it's Coca Cola - how absolutely gross. I have not drunk that stuff since George's father thought of becoming president of the USA. Sugar is what I need, so down the stuff, and keep moving. A few seconds later, I look up, and there is Kurt, with that wretched video camera again, filming my every move. (I shall upload these hideous videos to YouTube one day soon, and inform the reader of their link - be afraid, be very afraid!!!). I swear appropriately, and thunder on.

Oh, my goodness - ahead of me, is a LONG, FLAT stretch of ground, filled with runners, all heading for Chur and a hot bath. I'll never make it!!!! WIMP. Head down, and run. And off I go, on a perfectly ordinary day..... Isn't life strange...?

Halfway across that long flat, it's Km 21 - 5:15 min/km; 11,4 kph; 12,4 kph; 162 bpm.
It is a positive split, but I don't care anymore - I am doing well, after only three weeks of training, although things will improve!!!!!

Oh, crikey, it's a downhill, followed by a vicious uphill again as we approach the village of Felsberg. I'd forgotten about this little nuisance.

Km 22 - 5:14 min/km; 11,5 kph; 13,1 kph; 163 bpm. I've run this route so often, and could do it in my sleep. But, my mind tells me, that we are nearly there, so I give a quick spurt past my pacing buddy, and head off. We're next to the Rhine, now, and this is my area!!! My training area.

Km 23/25 - not too sure what happened here, but the satellite thingy got all mixed up and I had two splits in one - buggery technology. Anyway, here are the average results for 2 km: 5:13 min/km; 11,4 kph; 17,2 kph; 165 bpm. Very excited now. Nearly there, and it's all almost over, although I have the feeling, that I wish it could go on for ages. I don't want to finish. I am enjoying it so much. I feel strong, pain-free, happy, ecstatic......

Finally, the end. I see Kurt standing there, just in front of the ice hockey stadium, video camera aiming at me. I am invincible. I feel incredible. I am almost there. I can hardly wait for the Berlin Marathon in September, and the MdS next year. I LOVE RUNNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The last few hundred metres: I run like the blazes, enter the ice hockey stadium, and cross the ZIEL, probably the most happy man on the face of the earth. I have achieved the Bündner-Frühlingslauf in 2:09:02, placed 34 out of 65 in my age group, 179 out of 414 over all.

A walk in the park; a step in the dark. HAIL, Major Tom. There is more .... to follow.....

My Training for the 2009 MdS - 3

This entry refers to Wednesday, 16th April.

It was quite a day on Wednesday. Outside, it felt like mid-winter - heavily overcast, windy, bitingly cold, grey, miserable, inclement, unfriendly, get the message? Inside, there were decisions that needed to be made - should I buy the green rubbish bin liners or the red ones? There were habits that needed to be changed:

Bodies had to be fetched, and then, most importantly, after writing endless messages to the MdS forum on the Internet, there were plans to be made about running. I hadn't had a break from death for nigh over two and a half weeks, and decided one was called for, so I opted for an afternoon off, and set out on a good run, despite the pitiless climes which swathed us in their gloom and despair.

I began with the normal preparations upstairs in the apartment. First of all, there was the gathering of the equipment, not a simple matter at the best of times. All my running equipment is stored in my favourite room of the house - the ironing room. At least, there, it's not in dread of its life, because that's my domain, I shudder to admit. I had decided, that I would wear my rucksack, bought from the Darbaroud website (official site of the Marathon des Sables), once again. I had worn it on the Sunday run, and it did feel comfortable. This time, however, I decided I would wear the front pouch attachment, and set about attaching it - what a performance, and it will teach me right for undoing the whole thing without carefully noting how it all went together in the first place. I filled up the four water bottles with diluted Gatorade, added weight to the pack itself, mounted it (there is no other word to describe how one puts this monster on), and felt ready to go. Ah, what about stretching? Oh dear, the whole lot had to come off again, there was a lot of whingeing, and I did my stretching exercises. I've been quite diligent at these lately, and can now touch the floor in front of my feet, with legs straightened. It's a good feeling at my age!!!! Stretching complete, I popped downstairs to the business to bid my farewell to the powers-that-be, suffered the barrage of verbal abuse, and set off, clicking all the buttons of my various gadgets as I emerged from the door.

It was almost a deep freeze as I ran my first few moments. Admittedly, I did have on my tiniest of running shorts (Asics), which Kurt refers to as disgustingly erotic, and a thinnish Nike long-sleeved running shirt. The temperature was 6°C, as I slowly warmed up next to the Plessur River which flows in front of our house, but the wind chill factor was certainly around 2°C. My favourite music blaring in my ears from my beloved iPod, I headed down towards the Rhein (Rhine), feeling happy and confident. My Garmin 305 recorded every step I took, receiving signals from some arcane satellite system high up above me, with the vultures.

I did receive some strange looks from some very strange people as I ran along, but, I told myself, they're all ignorant, and will never know what it's like to deprave oneself by running through the desert for seven days. The Rhein reached, I decided not to run on it, as I am usually wont to do, but alongside it, and headed towards the village of Felsberg, through the military area, where a lot of shooting was going on. I had to do a lot of dodging of bullets and missiles, but my fictitious training in the Légion Étrangère stood me in good stead.

Through the village of Felsberg I ran, feeling good and happy, enjoying my music, sipping regularly from my Gatorade, and blowing my nose every 200 metres or so. I suffer from hayfever, and, whilst this year it has not been too bad, the pollen has had a marked effect on my throat, and also affects my nose when I run. I must lose litres of fluid through my nasal orifices when I run. It's most annoying, and I'm not one of those people, who can just expel nasal fluids into the air, like some runners do. I need a tissue, so run with the pouch filled with them. This does, however, cause an annoyance to my gait as I trundle along. Not only that, but years of cortisone nasal sprays have left my nasal membranes very thin, and I bleed a lot from the nose, which adds insult to injury. Anyway......

Dripping blood and nose juices all along the trail, I continued along the Rhein towards the next village of Tamins, which is quite a lot higher than the Rhein valley. In fact, it involves a run up a steep hill, which also kills me on the mountain bike. Not one to complain (oh, yeah?), I ran up the hill, and was amazed that I reached the top without any swearing or cursing. My gym has certainly helped; I must also give due to my red wine consumption, because I have been told, that red wine is good for one, and I must, consequently, be in excellent health!!!!

Tamins is a beautiful village, and I enjoyed running through it, particularly as it was the beginning of a long descent to the village of Reichenau, nestled right next to the Rhein. Thundering down, I past a little, old lady, striding uphill. As I past her, I felt her gaze burning my disgustingly erotic shorts, and could quite well hear her tut-tutting as I hurtled past. Anyone would think some people had never seen legs before!!!!!

Up to the Reichenau railway station on the other side of the Rhein, and then the direction was northwards, when the full blast of the, hitherto unnoticed, north wind was felt. I had been a little cold, but not the sort of nutt-freezing cold that the north wind, when it doth blow, can bring. Whew, I felt it then. It almost deep-froze me, it was that cold. And it was strong. I had another 13 km to run, and I was freezing - oh, boy, what a lot of fun it was going to be. My nasal discharges increased to every 100 metres, but I headed onwards and onwards, knowing, that I would eventually be in the warmth again.

Domat/Ems came and went, and the wind continued unabatedly. Then I remembered a small bridge under the Autobahn which led to a forest path back to Chur. At least, in the forest, the force of the wind would be minimised, so I headed for that. There was a sense of relief in the forest, for sure, but my body was that cold, that I could not micturate (pee) against a passing sheep when I needed to (no, the prostate is in perfect working order, thank you).

On and on I went, my nose becoming certainly bright red, my body as cold as ice, but my level of determination as high as when I started - and, I firmly believe, that this is what is required to complete the Marathon des Sables!!!!! My legs felt good all the time; my chest and nose were the problem, but I thundered through, and overcame the hindrance that might have caused otherwise.

Finally I reached the outskirts of Chur. I had another three or four kilometres to run, and I was starting to tire because my chest and nose were giving me hell. My head was starting to hurt, too, but I put that down to the stress my respiratory system was causing me.

I eventually arrived at the door to our house, with the song Major Tom by the German Singer, Peter Schilling, blasting my brain - one of my favourite songs ever, and a perfect song by which to run.

Equipment shut-down, and breath in the warm air of home!!!!!!! Gosh, it was wonderful. The run, itself, was amazingly good - it was just the weather, and my respiratory system, that caused a few problems. Nonetheless, spring will one day spring, and I will be able to breathe better and enjoy longer and faster runs, every step being towards the MdS!!!!!

The gammy leg? No problem at all. Even today, I have no problems whatsoever. I had planned a 10-km run this evening, but the death business saw to it, that I was exhausted by the day's end. Consequently, it was a long, hot shower and some good red wine for me. Tomorrow, the weather is forecast to be warmer, so I shall do my 10-km rum, and then, with 20°C predicted for Sunday, I'll get in a 30-km one.

I love running more than I could ever have previously imagined. My temporary lay-off, due to the injury, is over, and I am now back into my passion in a big way. All roads lead, now, to the 2009 MdS.

Here endeth the lesson.