Dogs are daft

Days to go                 32

Miles today                Six

Miles this week         Six – with another 19 planned for later in the week

Miles last week         38

Miles 2011                308.7

Other exercise          Yoga on Wednesday to unknot my aching muscles

"We run, not because we think it is doing us good, but

because we enjoy it and cannot help ourselves...”

Sir Roger Bannister

Race report – Ashby 20 (Sunday 13 March, 2011)

We did it! And everything still seems to be in reasonable working order and nothing has fallen off.

Sunday dawned somewhere above the heavy, grey clouds that swathed the East Midlands. It was raining, and it was cold. This did not bode well – but at least the air was still after the high winds of the previous week. We would not have to adopt the blustery day Piglet pose for 20 miles.

SG and I arrived at the start in plenty of time for me to make my umpteenth nervous visit and were under starter’s orders promptly at 10am.

And we were off.

Dante was wrong. Hell is not nine concentric circles. It is running the same 10 mile circuit twice with an uphill finish!

The organisers describe the course as “rural and undulating...with several inclines to test your stamina”. They’re not wrong. It certainly lives up to its “reputation as a thoroughly testing route”.

But we were not defeated.

Apparently, 865 of us survived its rigours and, according to the online results table, I finished 758th with a time of 03:22:28. I was not last and I was in more than an hour before the last finisher*. I am also thrilled to note that the lovely organisers have deducted six years from my age.

* Yes – it would be rude to ask the winning time.

So, yes, it was a demanding course, but I thoroughly enjoyed it and we were very well looked after.

There were marshals at regular intervals and at all major junctions. As well as pointing us in the right direction, they cheered us on and told encouraging white lies like: “Well done – looking good.”

There were plenty of drinks stations along the way. The wonderful officials who kept us plied with water, gels, jelly babies, and chocolate were – like the marshals – also very generous with their psychological sustenance and encouragement.

Even the weather relented. The sky cleared, the temperature rose a comfortable notch or two, and the sun peeped down every once in a while to check on our progress.

It was certainly the friendliest race I’ve run. SG and I chatted to some fabulous people of real stamina who made the 20 miles jog along quite nicely. A big thank you to everyone who passed the miles with us, but especially:

• the lady who underwent surgery on her foot just before Christmas – fingers crossed the hoodie matched your team colours as well as hoped
• the chap whose longest distance to date was a half-marathon – big congrats: it was super to see you at the finish
• the mum whose baby arrived in November – perhaps see you at the Big One
• the gentleman who ran four marathons last year and was still breaking in new shoes – thank you for the tips for surviving and enjoying London

Although it didn’t quite feel like the “two minutes” predicted by our coach, SG’s husband, the jolly company definitely did while away the three plus hours we were out.

Whilst doing the thanking, I must say a super-sized one to our race support team: SG’s husband, daughter and Mum who made a lot of noise for us along the way; and CM who whooped in welcome at the finish and held our jumpers.

In case it’s sounding like an easy-peasy stroll in the park, it was pretty brutal. I was in bed by seven o’clock on Sunday evening and coming down stairs is a real challenge. The thighs have found their voice – and, boy, can they scream.

Nonetheless, it’s a fantastic milestone and a huge achievement. It has given me hope that all being well – and with a favourable tail wind – I might be able to drag myself across the finish line with SG on 17 April.

None of which brings me neatly to this week’s ramblings: dogs.

They may be man’s best friend, but they are not necessarily the runner’s – particularly those who, like SG and I, are of the myopic persuasion. As noted in Gadgets and gizmos (22 February 2011), dogs can be a genuine peril to night-time runners.

During our evening runs, we have problems spotting juggernaut at junctions let alone our four-legged friends. In the dark, they can be so easy to overlook and then fall over. Really, as a courtesy to all those training for a marathon, dogs should remember to zip up their hi-vis jackets and clip on their head-torches when they head out to take the air of a winter’s evening.

They should also consider trying to remain calm when out and about. Leaping around and woofing boisterously in greeting is all very well and terribly friendly, but can constitute a terrible trip hazard.

As can extending leads. You can just picture it: dog on one side of the path, dog-walker on the other. Long and lethal lead stretched between them. Ooopsie or hurdle, take your pick – if you’ve got time.

One of my top 10 dog encounters was with a stocky Beauceron who was accompanied by an awfully proper older lady in genteel walking gear: green wellingtons, Barbour, jodhpurs, and headscarf knotted neatly on her chin. Monsieur Beauceron was trotting politely along, having a little sniff here and a little sniff there. Then, he clocked me. He paused a moment, looked back over his left shoulder at milady and made a lolloping bee-line for me.

I tried to run around and past him, avoiding eye contact and mustering as confident a look as possible. To no avail. He barged and bounced me, and began to bark frantically. He may have been asking to play or could have been sizing me up for dinner. Either way, I was more than a little intimidated. 

“Just stand still,” her ladyship shrilled from quite a distance. “He won’t bite. Will you, sweetie?”

I swear the damned dog curled its lip and winked at me.

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