I have written a Bumper Book of Excuses since my performance
in the Neolithic Marathon from Avebury to Stonehenge on 4th May, tick number 6 on my list. In true "Dog Ate My
Homework" style these tenuous reasons for a spectacular Personal Worst range from tiredness to not enough food to the
wrong shoes. They get a little more coverage on the 10 Things blog..
The truth is somewhat different. I think I started to believe
my own hype, that all I had to do was turn up, go through the normal pre-race ritual (eat - register - toilet
- drink - toilet - drink - change - toilet - toilet) and pull on the running shoes, before running the marathon in 3
hours 49 minutes and some seconds. After all, my last 3 marathons over very different courses had been within 5 minutes
of this time, with the last two times being separated by a gnat's whisker. So, I thought, the same thing was on the
cards, perhaps even with a bit of an improvement if it proved to be a Good Day at the Office. It was anything but..
The cross-country course was a little alien to me and at one
point the slopes reminded me of the fantastic Cheese-Rolling event in Gloucestershire - I was half-expecting a round
of double Gloucester to overtake me, complete with a bunch of foolhardy yokels!! Nevertheless, early progress was
good enough and even with the rather infrequent mile markers, things seemed to be going well.
Now, I am a big fan of "Petrol Chicken" - you know, filling up with
overpriced fuel at the last possible moment before running out. I'm proud to say I've never yet lost a game of this
and consider myself a semi-professional! Anyway, the Neolithic turned into my own personal game of petrol chicken which
I lost spectacularly at about the halfway point, as I was going up a rather steep hill. Strangely, my body's
own orange light was on by the time I reached the bottom and it was flashing and I was running on fumes by the time I got
to the top.
The remaining 14 miles or so were a rather deflating mixture of
walking and running, with no real guidance on how long was left to go. This was rather amusingly punctuated with a familiar
need for a comfort break running through a stretch of Salisbury Plain where the only, um, facilities were on land which promised
all manner of unexploded bombs, shells and mines. In other words, certain death!
I suppose that I was a little spoilt on the marvellous Tresco marathon just 3 weeks earlier,
but the Neolithic proved to be a timely reminder that marathon running is a serious business and I have resolved
to get back to basics for the 7th marathon, whenever that may be.
I had also hoped that the scenery in my beloved home county would have been a little better
too, particularly as the event along the Sarsen Trail was organised by the Wiltshire Wildlife Trust.
In fact, the only example of wildlife I saw on my 4 hour 31 minute journey was a snail.
On a Bad Day at the Office, I suppose I should be grateful that I managed to overtake him, at least.
