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.

My bear feet are bigger than yours!

Hello world, again.

I am Simon.  My name is ironic, because it is often translated as to mean 'he who hears', and yet my hearing is not so great.

Now, there's a philosophy that I really really like.  And that is that all of the muscles and nerve endings on the soles of your feet are connected to different parts of your body.  I assume that this is how reflexology works, but I am not so interested in massaging other people's feet.  I do give a lot of upper back and neck massages, but for some reason I have never felt compelled to massage anyone's feet before...I think that foot massagers are a special breed of people, perhaps of a similar kind to that Tarantino guy.
But I am into exploring making use of these magical gems at the bottoms of my legs.  I don't think that I enable them to be as magical as they could be, as I keep them for too often in a comfortable environment that merely decreases the power of their muscles.

One of the reasons for me deciding to explore running barefoot is this: http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/01/100127134241.htm.  In March of this year, I ran the Bath Half.  I had ran some quite long distances before, but never 13 miles.  I didn't want to mess up my new badminton shoes, so I decided to go out with some dodgy trainers, thinking that they're still shoes and so I'd still be fine.  I learnt through the experience that I had, of being unable to walk without pain for the following two weeks and still continuing to have some pain in my feet for upto a month after, that not all shoes are good shoes.  In fact, after this run, I started my first explorations in walking barefoot.  Walking barefoot, for the first couple of painful weeks, was the most comfortable way of walking, as my feet muscles had been damaged and shoes seemed to just restrict the muscles moreso.

A friend of mine in Bath began to urge me, since way before the summer, to start running barefoot with her.  I agreed that I will plan for it when I got back to Bath after the summer.  She hadn't really ran barefoot before, but I liked the idea of this adventure that we'd share.

I was in Alicante, on the Mediterranean coast of Spain, for a month in the summer.  The weather was good, so I mostly walked around topless and barefooted.  There were times when I'd go to a shop and realise that I'd forgotten to pack my sandles, and so either I was not allowed into the shop or I had to sneak in.  Shop workers seem to not like bare feet in Alicante.  I was running often in Alicante, as there was very good reason to be doing so.  My brother had a room in a flat about twenty minutes run from the beach, so I often ran down to the beach with just swimming shorts on, and nothing else.  My bare feet felt lovely cycling the ground - it felt at times like I was hovering along the surface of the ground, as there was no aftershock being felt throughout my body.

Perhaps due to excessive wintery cycling on a bike that was way too big for me, or perhaps because of playing badminton at a competition level (both arguments are probably equally as likely), I have attained a hip injury that makes a lot of physical activity a little stressful.  I haven't ran a huge amount this year because of this injury:- after the Bath Half in March, I had been planning to run some 10k's throughout the year, but this hasn't happened because I've not been able to begin running distances with my dodgy hip.  However, that running that I did in Alicante had very little consequence on my body.  I believe that the findings from that study I have linked above, of how barefoot runners do not have to absorb the collision impact that shoe-wearing runners absorb, is the reason for why barefoot running was so good for me in Alicante.

I left Alicante for a Buddhist community in the Spanish Pyrenees.  The landscape was harsh, and very rocky.  My barefoot running routine was forced to stop, because I could not master the terrain there.

When I got back to England, I went on a hike in North Norfolk.  For the first day and a half-or-so, I walked completely barefooted.  It felt good, but I really didn't feel good to be walking along the boardwalked path that was covered in chicken wire.  So the sandles soon were used.

Since then, I haven't really been barefooted so much.  This little adventure with Transition Bath is incredibly exciting for me, as I believe that it will be very life-affirming.  This will be my first deep exploration into my feet's properties.

The benefits of a little competition.

Well, another first for me today: I went for a run while away at work.

I know that we’re supposed to be blogging about our local running adventure, but I just wanted to share this as it was quite an interesting experience for me.

First, just to clarify; I work as long haul cabin crew for BA (not very Transition, I know) and my job entails a lot of time spent in hotel rooms around the world. Until now, that time has been spent doing many things – but getting fit wasn’t one of them. For me to get up and go out for a run was a wonderful, fresh experience and I’m very much looking forward to doing it again.

I didn’t push myself too hard, however, because after a few laps of this lovely little park in Johannesburg, I realised that to do so could prove a little silly for 3 reasons:

·   I had only had about four hours sleep the previous night as I had been working a 12-hour shift bringing 300 passengers the full length of the African continent.

·     It was 27 degrees, very sunny and my water was back at the hotel.

·      Jo’burg is 5751 feet above sea level. Oxygen is harder to come by at this altitude.

Nonetheless, having realised all of this, a fellow runner then appeared. He was running the opposite way to me and, as the track was on a ½ mile loop, we kept on passing each other at the same two spots. Now, I’m not overly competitive, but knowing that this other guy had seen me, there was no way I was going to drop off first, and I made it my goal to keep going longer that him. Silly? Perhaps, but having that incentive really worked to push me on even when the above reasons had me feeling pretty ropey after just 10 minutes. I also like to think that he felt the same way and that my presence pushed him on a little too.

Anyway, I am glad to say that my self-induced competition ended in a draw: He backed off and started walking the course – I imagine as a warm down exercise – and I told myself that enough was enough and not to over do it (being half a mile away from my hotel and in a foreign country I didn’t really want to collapse from heat exhaustion and dehydration). 

As I left my impromptu competitor walking round the course and headed home out of the gate, we exchanged a friendly salute and – so I like to think – a mutual gesture of thanks for the company and the amicable competition. A good run.