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Tuesday, 27 October 2015

Gods, Demons & Angels.

On Sunday Brendan and I made our way down to Leicester to show them lazy student types how us Northern running Gods conquer the famous 26.2

After parking the godly chariot (VW Golf) we made our way to the athletes village proudly wearing the blue & white of A&T.
With Brendans Tall, Athletic, Herculean physique and my Zeus-like beard,we stood proud like gods amongst mere mortals wondering which one of us would win the race and who would have to settle for 2nd place.

As the starters whistle blew we thundered across the start-line to the sounds of classical music and off we went, like Mercury on an errand from the heavens.

Our immortal status was short lived as within 5 minutes of the start I realised I had left my nutrition in the car and Brendan had already left me and darted off into the nearest public toilets he could lay his eyes upon. It was already clear that we wouldn't be the first two runners across the finish line today!!

The chocolate box cottages and picture postcard villages couldn't detract from the fact that this was not going to be a PB course as up-hill after up-hill, with no descent on the other side, made me think the course had been designed by M C Escher.  Who ever called this course "undulating" is obviously a lying b@stard!!!!

By Mile 18 my god like persona had deteriorated into that of an angry, bearded tramp as I slowed to a jog, surrounded by a thick cloud of swear words and angry grumblings. All I was missing was a dog and a copy of the Big Issue.

The on-course nutrition didn't agree with me and combined with the warm weather and constant hills I was dead by mile 20; slowing to a jog as I started to ache and seize up.  The Winged sandals I was wearing across the start line had been stolen from me having been replaced with a pair of lead boots. I was struggling to lift my feet and shuffle them forward.

I always thought Angels came from heaven but apparently they come from Lichfield as at Mile 20 I was picked up by a runner from Lichfield RC who was obviously having an equally bad race. She refused to leave me and with her encouraging words I picked up my feet and pace, helping each other through; we maintained a steady jog along the final tough 6.2 miles, which were mainly uphill!!!
We both managing a final burst of pace to look like gods (and goddess) again as we crossed the finish line, scraping under the 4Hr mark to salvage a small amount of pride.

Brendan, having had an equally tough run was not far behind, 6 minutes in fact,  and was also a little mystified as to whom had stolen his winged sandals....

Next week we both run the White Rose Ultra so if anyone finds our winged sandals please can we have them back!!!!!

By Stu

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