Race day...

So, it all came down to this: the six months of training, hurting, fundraising, blogging and panicking was all rounded off in just two hours of pounding the streets of Bath in a colourful procession of panting, sweaty bodies all packed together and pushing on with that single objective: get to the finish line.

But was it worth it? 

Oh, yes, it most definitely was.

Of course I could use this post to talk about the feeling of accomplishment, or how glad I was to raise funds for Transition Bath, or the journey I took through my training; but instead I want to get down in hard copy all of those brilliant little moments the that made the day so special for me personally. You know, the little things that are so easily forgotten after the event.

Me (left) and the rest of Team TB

The first few miles of the race were very hard for me; by the first turn my shin had tightened resulting in a very heavy right leg, my sore knee had flared-up and my expectations of finishing had dropped significantly. 

But then I looked up. 

Being on the crest of a hill, I could see all the way down Pulteney Road. Ahead of me the bobbing, vibrant sea of people stretching from curb-to-curb and as far as I could see was truly a sight to behold, and something I imagine that only the runners get to experience. Thankfully, this little lift kept me going on until Churchill Bridge (and my first taste of the really noisy crowds), which was great, but my body was still protesting.

Then came Queen Square. Yes it's an uphill slog to get there, but feeling the samba drums pulsating and bouncing off the walls as you approach and then taking the corner that leads you through that exquisite tunnel of noise was simply awesome – and even more so the second time around.

Then it all went quite again, and I finally stared to find my rhythm. The aches were subsiding and I was actually beginning to feel good. It was at this point some spectators did their job of lifting me once again, but not in the way I expected. On three separate occasions, I heard people muttering amongst themselves sentiments such as, “they must be mad,” or “you wouldn’t catch me doing that,” and as bigheaded as this sounds; I loved hearing this.

So with a slightly inflated ego and a mouthful of Jelly Babies, I crossed the bridge, rounded the corner of Newbridge Road and headed along the most uninspiring part of the race: the first section of the Lower Bristol Road. I was feeling great by this point, though. The aches were gone (but not forgotten) and that boring stretch of road surprisingly allows for some real thinking time, all the while in an un-real situation. A true delicacy in this day and age.

Other moments that lifted me were seeing the man dressed in a fluorescent orange head-to-toe body suit trying his best to be discreet as he had a wee in field (sorry, mate, that was never going to happen); the two runners arguing over a bottle of Lucozade Sport; the girl in front of me with the disappearing thong and nearly see-through leggings; the point where everyone around me was running in perfect step as, for a few seconds, we made a noise like an army on the march; and of course, having my name on my t-shirt was huge – every personalised shout of support took a second off my time.

The lead runners (no I'm not in this photo)

Naturally, though, with this type of endurance race, one also goes through lows as well as highs. The low points were my shock at the wastage of water and plastic bottles as people have a sip, take an impromptu shower and then dump the rest in the bin (or the crowd, which is a tad moody). I also hated seeing one of my fellow team members in pain, but luckily by this point we were only two miles away from the finish and all ended well. And I don’t even want to go into the Great Jelly Babies massacre of the Upper Bristol Road – what a senseless waste. Poor little blighters, just discarded in the road and left to be trampled. No Jelly Baby deserves that.

Anyway, without going on and on about the numerous other things that make a day like this so special, I’ll finish with the finish. Oh and what a finish. That last half-mile (tight hamstring and all) was amazing. The crowds baying you on, the collective sense of “we’re nearly there,” the consequent quickening of pace, and all topped off with that tunnel vision dash to the finish, when Bam! It hits you. That’s it. I did it. Wow.

Last year the Olympics inspired me to get out and get fit, and I’m now totally hooked on running. I am definitely doing the Bath Half again next year and have just literally signed myself up for the Bristol Half. Following this, I am potentially also looking at running a marathon next year and Paris would be my race of choice. Can you imagine running a marathon around the wonderful city of Paris? 

Once again I’d like to thank Nathan for organising this and I hope we can run together again soon.

Just to finish: If you've never had a go at something like this, ask yourself one question: What’s stopping you?

Love and kisses to all who helped me on the first part of this amazing journey.

The Bare Necessities

Me and those Feet that will carry me 13.1 miles.

Realism.

I feel breathless from this whole journey that I have been on over the last 6 months or so.  In fact, in thinking about the last 6 months, I am shocked by how fast it has gone by.

The last 6 months have been a real journey for me on many different levels.  There is the barefooting adventure, but there are also so many other things that have been going on in my life over these last 6 months.  I have got really into my role as my student union's religions & beliefs rep; I have had a quite a crazy journey with new forms of direct activism; I have had a lot of personal-exploratory meditations; and I have been going for walks down the lane of final year degree work.

You might think that this blog entry is to suggest that the barefoot adventure may be coming to a close.  The Barefoot Revolution that I have espoused, however, does not feel anywhere near a climax.  It feels more like the Barefoot Revolution has become a way of life.  In this preparatory last hours before the big run tomorrow morning, I am seeing now that this will not be my final distance run of my life.  My barefoot training has suggested that I have to think much more optimistically than that.  Perhaps last year I ran my final distance of my life in shoes.  The barefoot philosophy has given me some hope, though.  I vow to live to dream.

Tomorrow I will run 13 miles without the use of footware.  I will prove to the world around me that I still can run, despite my injury that caught me in the act last year.  I will show the world that, even if you carry a debilitating injury that forbids you from running, you need not stop believing.



Manifesto.

In the world that we are living in, where more people are allergic to food that they eat than ever in history (look at the statistics of wheat allergy sufferers, for example); more athletes are getting arthritis; more cancer is spreading despite all the research into cures; more war is taking place despite all the movements for peace; a world where so much investment is paid towards researching cures for everything but nothing seems to be working; I vow to prove that a little personal investment into spiritual harmonisation with nature is all that we need.  My barefooting adventure is just that - it is forcing myself to reconnect with the ground that is beneath me, and all around me.  It is allowing my feet to breath in and to breath out, and to adapt themselves to their surroundings.



Gratitute.

I would like to say thankyou for everyone that has supported me.  I have received so many messages of support that it has been hard to actually respond to them all.  Please know that I have utmost appreciation and Love towards you, for all the support that you have given me.

Just over a week ago, I was interviewed by Bath On TV.  This is a new online community media organisation - set up to video everything great that is happening in and around Bath.  I met James and Matt in Royal Victoria Park on a cold Thursday dusk-time.  They were just finishing off filming a local gymnast who was in the olympic team who will be running in the Bath Half.  Their interview with me was fun, creative, and very light-hearted.  They were very nice guys, and I respect all that they're planning to do with their new project.  I hope it gets really big too.  But anyway, a few days ago the actual video was released, upon the unveiling of the website.  I can't actually embed the video into the blog, so please visit this page to view the video:
http://www.bathontv.co.uk/bath-half-runners-stories-simon-jilley-goes-barefoot/

Today a friend of mine from back home sponsored me with £12.17, which was all the money he had left at the time in the bank.  This pushed up the money that has been raised for Transition Bath under the 'barefoot' agenda to £225.17, with more promised soon.  This is very encouraging for me, and I hope that it helps Transition Bath to continue with the path that it has laid out before itself.

Fundraising is here: https://www.justgiving.com/barefootsimon ;)



Final meditations.

ON Thursday evening I went for a fairly short, 3-mile run around Oldfield Park/Bear Flat.  On approaching Moorland Road something must've happened in my left leg to cause it to not lift up when it was that leg's turn to, and the big toe of the left foot skidded, causing me to quite calamitously stumble on the pavement.  This stumbling sensation on the big left toe had happened once before, when I was running the previous week on my longer 8-mile run.  This time, though, I got a feeling inside of me that everything was not quite right anymore.  I crouched down and grabbed the toe, trying to give it some immediate comfort and reassurance.  I managed to keep running the last five minutes or so to my house, but the toe was feeling sore.  Yesterday, on day two of my three-day planned Total Barefoot, I found it progressively more uncomfortable through the day to be on my foot.  I played one singles game of badminton in the evening barefoot, during which I really felt the presence of inflammation around the knuckle of the that toe.  When I returned home in the early hours of this morning I made up a special ointment out of honey, olive oil, ground devil's claw root, yellow jalokia chilli powder, and some chilli sauce.  This was due to bring the inflammation out, as all ingredients used except for the oil are known in some way to alleviate inflammation.  I spread it all around my toe and up to about halfway up my foot, and put a bandage and a sock over it.  This morning the toe felt somewhat better, but still quite sore.  I have a pack of frozen spinach on the foot for most of the day.  It currently feels quite deeply stiff around the toe, but I can still move things fine, and it doesn't hurt so much to be walking on it now.  It feels like I have had quite a big scare with this sudden injury, but I feel like I am going to be fine to run tomorrow.  The worst that could happen would be for me to pull up and incapable of going further due to the injury - and this is something I had expected to happen due to my hip all along.  I feel like this new injury may take my mind mainly off the hip, and perhaps even give me a smoother run, depending on how it fares up.

I am due to be having one more interview with Bath On TV tomorrow morning in runner's village, before they strap a GoPro camera to me for the run.

My plan, for now, is to meditate the evening away.  Mindfulness over matter, that is my way forward.


I will post a full review of the run for me when the time comes for it.  Until then, over and out.

Remembering Why

I went out for my final training run on yesterday and decided to do the whole Half Route.  It was great to be out on such a clean and crisp day and give me a chance to don my new Transition Bath running tee.  

After the first 3 miles I started to really struggle.  My mind was elsewhere on work and soon enough my legs became heavy.  I had an energy gel in my pocket, but decided to solider on through.  At mile 6 my legs felt like lead.  So time was now for that little pick me up.  After slurping it down I started to feel better.  At the same time I realised my head for the first time was not in it.

Since I started training I have clocked up just over 280 miles over 35 hours of running and loved every minute of it.  Those first 6 miles were really tough.  On the back of my t-shirt it says "inspired to run, run to be inspired".  I thought about this for a good mile and half and around 7.5 miles my feet became light, legs became springs and I began to smile.  I completed the run with not a lot left in me, but did smash my personal best completing the course in 1:49.

I realised on the second loop round that one of the reasons for this was the lack of preparation.  All my other runs have started with a 5 to 10 minutes of meditation and stillness to visualise and bring my body into a more connected space with the Earth, my surroundings and the often cold air that I will be breathing.  It is through this connectedness and enjoyment at the sense of being free that spurs me on, that keeps me moving.  Running to me has become like surfing and mountain biking.  Unlocking the flow to be part of the here and now and enjoying the sense of movement, the release from the chaos and hustle of the busy life and being in the now.  The only thing that matters is keeping one foot in front of the other.

This is is an adventure in running.  And for me, it has only just begun.... Here is to loving to run.  Here is to running to love.

Barefooting the soft Bathonian snow

Frozen man in the snow...Bath Abbey.

I'm not sure quite why we did it, but the other day myself and my barefooting friend Alex (who, I can confirm, is also going to be running the Bath Half this year barefoot) at about midnight ran down his road to Moorland Road in Oldfield Park, and ran back up it again.  I was dressed as a machine, with five layers on my top half.  Alex was stripped down to just shorts.  It is clear that he wanted the refreshment aspect, whilst I just wanted a little stroll to air my feet.

Anyway, we were both barefooted, and it was Friday night.  Lots of snow everywhere, about 4-5inches deep I predict all across Bath.  As my feet touched the outdoor ground, they felt joyful.  They didn't feel cold, they just felt free.  It wasn't actually so cold, anyway.

To compare the cold, I will relate a story from my Christmas holidays.  I stayed at Skanda Vale, a sanathana dharma Hindu community in Carmarthenshire, Wales, with my mum over Christmas.  She hadn't been there before, but I'd stayed for a combined three weeks previous, so it was all wacky for her but pretty decent and expectedly unexpected for me.
On Boxing Day, a big group of us staying there (possibly 30 of us) went down to Tenby for the Boxing Day swim.  At least 15 of us were actually due to be going in for the swim, including myself, and we all dressed up for the occasion.
We got there ridiculously early.  I was expecting us to be working on Indian time, but my understanding of Indian time was that you always arrive late for things.  We were an hour early.  We all got into our costumes, and just hung out on the beach mostly doing the Gangnam Style dance at odd occasions.  When the time finally came to assemble with all the other swimmers, it appeared that we'd been fooled.  We had to stand around with the other swimmers for a good 10 or 15 extra minutes, in the absolutely pouring and freezing rain.  My feet were freezing out - I already had lost feeling in the outer edges of both feet, and was a little worried about them.  The sand at Tenby, let me tell you, was absolutely freezing this midwinter morning, and the rain puddles didn't exactly help.
Eventually, the loudspeaker guy said that we would be have our mad dash into the sea in #countdown5minutes.  A minute later, there was a bang and everyone was confused and then people at the front were running and so I leapt for it, sprinted with the one goal of the seas glorious encapsulation in my mind.  I had a warrior mask on, which gave me tunnel-vision.  All I could see was the sea in front of me.
When I got to the sea, it wasn't actually so bad.  I just sprinted into it, but didn't dive in.  I got to about waist-deep, and was confused, as it got a bit cold.  Within a few seconds of pondering over things, I was rugby tackled into the sea.  A big rush overcame me.  I started swimming, but everything had gone numb.  It was like my body was piloting itself: my mind had completely disconnected itself from the body.
Anyway, we stayed in there for some 10 minutes or so, and then came out, got given a medal, I was given a cup of mulled wine (I completely gave up drinking about 9 months before, but this didn't mean anything when I had this warm wine in my hands), and I tried getting dressed.  It was all well and good, until I realised that my feet could not fit into my shoes anymore.  I couldn't feel my feet, so I didn't know what was happening, but I knew I had to be very gentle with them.
My decision was to lay in front of the big bonfire they'd got going on the beach and to thaw the feet out.  This worked terrifically - otherwise I would, for sure, have had frostbite.

So the point of relating to this story is to show how cold my feet could get, as compared to what I had the other day.  I could not feel my feet anymore when I was in Wales.  I had the potential of losing feeling in them for years, if I hadn't acted upon it straight away.  The other day, there was a little bit of cold under my feet, but it felt nowhere near as cold as what I experienced that day on the beach in Tenby.

One thing I noticed, the other day, was the sharpness of some of the snow.  This could be where the big issues are - and this goes for runners with shoes alike.  I stepped on some chunky bits of icy snow, which seemed to go right into the arch of my foot.  These bits of icy snow didn't feel so constructive...

We both managed to get down the hill and up again without too many problems.  It was a little slippery going down the hill (when normally I would deliberately slide down with my big walking boots on), but going back up was fine except for the bits of ice sticking out of the ground.

In my opinion, running in the snow is just like running in any other conditions, except with the possibility of a little less traction and some sharper bits here and there.  There is no need to be scared of it: just train up your feet to be used to the cold.  It's such a nice feeling, anyway, to come back into a warm house after your feet have become cold and callussed.  The feet tend to buzz a little, like after receiving a massage.

For those who are interested, here are a couple of pages that I found useful to read whilst writing this blog entry:

Winter Barefoot Running - is it right for you?
7 Barefoot Running Myths: Barefoot and Minimalist Running


Now, on the complicated general side of things for me:

I haven't been running properly in a few months, as my hip has taken major toll over the winter months.  I've had it scanned, and re-scanned, and had an arthrogram and then an MRI arthrogram, and they tell me that it's osteoarthritis.  Hence the difficulties I've had over the last few months - it reacts to colder and damper conditions.  They say that there are some bone spurs/osteophytes on the joint that they would like to remove, but they'll give me a shot of steroids in the joint first to see what that does.  I'm hoping that the steroid shot will sort things out in the short term, and then I'll have the surgery sometime after the Bath Half, and after the badminton season has finished at uni.
For now, though, I'm still taking it easy so as to avoid causing unnecessary inflammation.  I've experienced a lot of inflammation in my hip before as I used to cycle until just under a year ago, and the inflammation can have such a long-lasting effect.  If I were to be training now, I would probably be able to run once a week and have to rest it off for the other 6 days of the week.
My solution, then, is to wait for the steroid shot, and start running again after having this.  If it doesn't have the desired effect, I will just keep my fitness up with non-demanding activities (badminton doesn't have such a toll on my hip, and neither do some yoga postures, etc.) and run the Bath Half on the day without having ran in preparation for it.  I will keep my leg muscles up to strength (I know, from my experience of running last year, that the legs can get some serious cramp if they're not prepared for the run!), and generally be very easy-going in my buildup to the run.
This doesn't stop me working on my barefooting, of course, and as I explained before barefooting is very beneficial for my condition, taking a lot of strain off of the hip when I am trodding my ways.  Therefore, I will continue to go barefoot.

Sorry I haven't posted a route to run on, again.  I felt, though, a duty to send out a barefooting message to you all!

Until next time, stay safe!

A awesome run around the park

So I know this blog is supposed to be about local running, but I had to post about my experience today in Central Park, New York; as much to commit it to my own memory as anything else.

I may be stuck here due to cancelled flights, missing my family and all the fun the snow, but this helped go a little way to improving my mood.

Picture this: 6.30am on a cold NY morning and I began my run around Central Park. The sun wasn’t up yet and the running track through the park was lit in a dull glow from the streetlights. Then, in a city of however-many million people, I looked around and saw I was running practically on my own. Wonderful.

As the sun began to rise and I headed down the western edge of the park, I felt like I was in a movie, Calvin Harris was banging away in my ears and life felt very, very good. Then, coming back up the east side of the park, the sky scrapers running the opposite length began to glow a radiant terracotta and seemed to be utterly relishing their own magnificence. You know how Bath looks in the autumn sun? Well, it was something like that. Awesome.

Including the jog from the hotel, my morning’s run took in: The Empire State Building, The Plaza Hotel, The building used in Ghostbusters, The Tavern on the Green (also in Ghostbusters), The Metropolitan Museum, The Guggenheim and finally a glimpse down Broadway to the lights of Times Square.

So the moral of this story? If you’re a runner and you go to NY City, take your running shoes and add a run in Central Park to your ‘to do’ list. It’s a 6.1 mile loop, a little hilly, but you don’t really notice this with all the sights to see. I have to say, though, that I do have half an eye on running a marathon if I can get through the Bath Half intact, but thinking about running a distance equivalent to four and a half times round this loop makes me think twice about the wisdom of such an undertaking. On the plus side, I comfortably managed these 6 miles in 55 minutes, so that equates to me finishing the Half in just under 2 hours… doesn’t it?