fromBtoA - The Final Report
Despite our trip and run being almost 14 months in the making, we still somehow found ourselves hopelessly disorganised with just a few days to go. As of Wednesday, 2 days before flying out to Brussels, we had no hire car and no car firm willing to give us one. Our driver Ged had only passed his test 2 months before - naively I had this down as an advantage, no time to get used to driving on the left, I thought.
The car rental firms disagreed, and no amount of mentioning that this was for charity could get them to waive their 1 year minimum policy. Avis, Europcar, you are off the frombtoa Christmas card list.
We planned various contingencies, the more remarkable of which involved England cricketer Stuart Broad’s Range Rover, but with ferries to Amsterdam looking prohibitively expensive it was left to Ally to save the day, offering to drive his car from the Borders down to Dover, across to Calais, and then onto Brussels. Not the ideal preparation for running 133 miles, but it was our best (only!) option and so Ally and Ged set off on a 2 day road trip on the Friday.
On the plus side, it also meant that as a group we were using the full set of planes (Mike and I), trains (Ed) and automobiles to get to Belgium. Unfortunately, before we could yell ‘House’ on our game of travel bingo, Ed had to turn around when at Kings Cross and head home on a family emergency. Having all focused so much on the run in the month beforehand, it was a sharp reminder that there were still far more important things in life.
In Brussels the remaining 4 of us stayed with our friend Ollie - a true giant of a man. Ok, he’s about 4ft 3, but what he lacks in height he makes up for sheer laddishness, and he provided the perfect start to our week. Between that and our first taste of Ged’s European driving, the adrenaline was pumping long before we got to the start line.
Day 1
Our planning had never quite got as far as the finer details of the trip - the result of which was that rather than a glorious, seamlessly planned Monday morning start, the early hours were spent navigating a Brussels rush hour in the rain as we headed to our starting point. Thankfully Ged was now far more accomplished at European driving, perfecting the art of cutting people up and frequently using his horn so that he fitted in with the locals perfectly.
We had bought a bunch of flags before heading out, and not only had they come in very handy at Ollie’s where we had run out of blankets, but we also used them for a quick photo opportunity before setting off, along with our Mary’s Meals tshirts which Swish in Edinburgh (www.swishlife.co.uk - formerly Fabrick) printed for us. I’ll be honest, our knowledge of the Malawian flag is pretty limited, and so no-one had the foggiest idea which way up it should go, so we simply tried to take a few either way and google it later!
A few windy photographs done, the 3 of us set off with Ollie who wanted to run the first half with us as part of his own marathon training. I’d spent quite a bit of time planning out our maps for the trip, and I showed off some pretty impressive navigational skills early on as we got lost 3 times within the first half hour. So by the time we had covered the first 3 miles, we’d actually done 6, meaning that if we replicated that over the course of the week we would cover about 266.
The rest of the day passed with fewer problems, although we were slightly caught out by some unexpected Belgian sunshine, and hadnt had nearly enough water by the time we reached Ged halfway along.
The sun didnt last though, and during a sudden downpour at around the 21 mile mark we spotted the car at the side of the road - a perfect time for a quick snack and drink to get us going again. Unfortunately, Ged wasnt in the car but in the shops half a mile down the road buying himself some new football socks, and he would have been sacked there and then if he hadnt come running back down the road in a pair of wet (and now seethrough) shorts, showing off his fetching checked boxers. Never seen that in a Calvin Klein ad…
The rest of the day was much less eventful, enjoying a leisurely jog into Antwerp to complete over 28 miles for the day, a night relaxing in our skintight recovery leggings just to continue the homoerotic undertones of the trip, followed by steaks all round at a nice wee Argentinian place. The only negative was Ged’s failure to prepare brownies for any of the stops, but never mind I thought, they will keep till Tuesday.
Day 2
The run from Antwerp to Etten-Leur had long been down as maybe the hardest of the week – almost 30 miles running along a pretty featureless road and in the end it proved to be as tough as we expected.
The first half an hour was relatively trouble free, but by around mile 5 Mike had badly damaged his right ankle and we set about some repairs at the side of the road. He struggled on, occasionally enjoying miles where the ankle loosened off, followed by others where it definitely did not. It might come as some surprise to you but running consecutive marathons doesn’t really help an ankle injury!
The ankle was quickly getting worse and given Mike’s history of bad injuries his decision to stop at the halfway point was the right one, even though he was clearly gutted. He would rest it up, be ready to have a crack again on Wednesday, and hopefully not eat all the brownies in the car, which Ged had once again failed to prepare. I should say at this point that brownies aside, Ged was an absolute star all week, ready with waters, juices, sweets and cakes and doing everything we asked of him – so if you ever happen to be running 5 marathons in 5 days, give him a call!
So with the double blow of no Mike and no brownies, Ally and I set off towards the border which was about 6 miles down the road, but as we approached there were far more urgent matters to deal with. One of the worst possible scenarios was unfolding….Ally needed a No. 2. We had made contingencies by way of a couple of toilet rolls, unfortunately those contingencies were 8 miles down the road in the car, so we set about gathering as many ‘substitutes’ as possible…old sweatbands, routecards, even a small Belgian flag (sorry Belgium :( ). Just as Ally was about to disgrace a whole nation, we came across a small service station with a small dingy toilet through the back.
We were so relieved that I think we actually missed the border a mile down the road, and it was only after the proud photos below that i realised that the sign didnt say ‘Welcome to Holland’. :(
By around the 22 mile point we were both beginning to struggle a little - the weather was miserable and we were running low on energy, but we persevered and as so often happens during long distance running, if you run through the low points all of a sudden you find yourself on the crest of a wave. At 22 miles we said we would run for 2 miles more before stopping for a quick bite to eat - as it was we just didnt stop - running all the way up to the outskirts of Etten-Leur without stopping and enjoying a warm down wander into the village to finish off the day.
That night we enjoyed the best meal of the week (narrowly beating Ollie’s Spaghetti Bolognese!) I could write an entire section on Ged and his all you can eat spare ribs, but it probably deserves a website and fundraising effort all of it’s own!
Day 3
Having run over 57 miles on the first two days, Ally and I woke up looking forward to the ‘relief’ of just 19 on Wednesday. In a week where 4 out of the 5 days would see us cover a marathon or more, this was always to be the ‘recovery’ day. As it was, it turned out to be the most damaging of the week.
Amazingly this had nothing to do with the fact that we had run out of BodyGlide Anti-Chafe balm - our….sensitive….parts would have to make do with Vaseline for the rest of the week, and thankfully that seemed to work just as well.
Mike woke up determined to give his ankle another try, and so after navigating my way past a large group of Russians who had been up all night using the free wireless interenet in the hotel to use some very dodgy looking video chat sites, we set off from Etten-Leur and headed north towards Dordrecht.
Within 3 miles it was clear again that Mike’s ankle wasn’t in a mood to be run on, and the biggest hill that Holland has to offer finished it off at around the five mile point. That left myself and Ally on a small country road for the next hour and half of running, and we both agreed that all in all we were feeling pretty good, despite the brownies once again failing to make an appearance.
I cant say I’ve ever really paid much attention to the camber of a road when running - most of our training in Edinburgh was on flat pavements. I can safely say it’s something I’ll pay attention to in future. About 12 miles into the day we realised that we had been running on a fairly steep left to right slope for around 75 minutes, and we both noticed the beginnings of some pretty significant ankle pain on the outside of our left ankles.
We quickly switched to flat or right to left camber to ease the strained ligaments, but the remaining 8 miles of the day involved some pretty painful running into Dordrecht. We made it and began to rest our sore ankles - and noticed a McDonalds about 20 yards from the entrance to our hotel. On the news and in the papers there are frequently stories about how bad for you these fast food places are, and how many calories are in each meal. Having avoided them for years it was a bit of a relief to find one on our doorstep - trying to pack 6,000 calories into a night had been proving pretty tough, atleast with McDonalds and their awful food we had half a chance.
This (McChicken Sandwich, large fries, large pepsi, medium strawberry milkshake, M+M McFlurry) was my first of two full McDonalds meals that day :) Never seen Paula Radcliffe recommend this…maybe thats where’s she’s been going wrong lately…
Day 4
We had hoped that the early finish and long recovery of Wednesday would mean that the slight ankle strains would pass - unfortunately they were still there when we started our run towards Gouda and so began one of the toughest days of my life.
By around the 12 mile point both of our ankles had deteriorated pretty badly, and crossing on a small ferry we agreed that we would need to walk most of the next section, particularly as the next ten miles had the same unavoidable left to right camber that caused the injury in the first place. It’s quite tricky to describe the feeling of being in significant pain with every step and knowing that you are still well over 40 miles from where you ultimately need to be, and without offending Ally’s quality of chat I can safely say the hours spent struggling on in single file in the cold and pouring rain towards Gouda were some of the toughest I’ve had. I’m sure he’d say the same.
I’d put in months of dedicated training, felt the fittest and strongest I ever had, and had already resolved before the week that only something like a broken leg would stop me from finishing, and even then I reckoned I could give it a shot. So as the idea of breezing through all 5 days trouble free slipped away, and in it’s place the realisation that we would have to draw on that determination for atleast a while, all the sayings that meant absolutely nothing to me months ago when I read them in books and online ultrarunning articles suddenly meant everything. The importance of focusing on putting one foot infront of the other, concentrating on the idea that pain is temporary and mostly in the mind, and above all the idea that it might have been hard, but that it was still nowhere near what those that we are raising money have to go through.
And so on we went, keeping each others spirits up - although I’m not sure my chirpy ‘Once we get to that lampost, there’s only 35 miles to go to Amsterdam!’ type comments actually helped at all. By the time we reached Gouda I think we were midly delirious - I cant remember what we talked about but I vaguely remember it making no sense at all. I even forgot that for months I had dreamt about buying cheese when we got to Gouda…I might just have to go back one day.
The body and mind are amazing things - there’s a running book which claims that the key to being a good long distance or ultra runner comes from the ability to overcome your body’s central governor - the mechanism which prevents you from exceeding what your body determines to be a safe level of exertion, even though in practical terms the body is easily capable of doing so. I wont go into too much detail (book here: http://www.amazon.com/Lore-Running-4th-Timothy-Noakes/dp/0873229592) but despite enduring 28 of the toughest miles I ever have, as soon as the finish line came within sight my entire body loosened, my ankle came alive again, and the pain subsided. The theory proposed in that book would make perfect sense of that.
I even pulled a Usain Bolt on Ally - telling him I was off into the bushes for a tinkle before exploding out while he tied his lace, and sprinting the final 500m down the road towards Ged at the finish line to get the win.
That night we had bought about 6 large pizzas for the oven, before finding out we didnt have one, so spent it taking pictures on the balcony and eating floppy margheritas done in the microwave.
Day 5
Ally and I set off on the final day knowing that even if the day was as unpleasant as the Thursday, it was the final one and that in a few hours time we’d have our feet up in Amsterdam and Heinekens in hand. As it was, we set off at a fine pace, jogging comfortably through the first hour of that day with few problems.
It’s at this point the similarities end - while my ankle had enjoyed a pretty remarkable recovery overnight and joined the rest of my legs in feeling pretty good, Ally’s was worse - and he once again went to work on another long 4-5 hours in significant pain. We’ve always known him as someone who tends to just get on with things, and his running and walking for 50 miles on a badly swollen ankle and in a lot of pain typified that attitude and reaffirms my belief that with the right state of mind, anyone can do anything.
Mike was also ready to show this spirit, and despite obvious damage to the ankle had been determined to complete the final stage. As I felt pretty good and wanted to run the final leg, I let Ally and Mike head off on the final 12 miles towards Amsterdam while I gave Ged some company in the car. He had finally cut up the brownies, unfortunately the ravenous Ally had got to them first and chomped through the entire tray in about 60 seconds. Pretty sure he licked it clean too the swine. It just wasnt meant to be for me and those brownies…
I waited behind for around 75 minutes and then set off in pursuit. Im not sure I’ll ever enjoy a run as much as those 12 miles towards Amsterdam - a year of training, thinking, planning and boring everyone to tears with run chat, all distilled into one afternoon. My legs were fresh and I felt like I was 8 years old again and able to run forever. The other two had made great progress up the road, so much so that I got to the outskirts of Amsterdam and was sure that I must have passed them. One quick sprint up the road and we were all back together, heading towards the Vondelpark where friends and family (and Ed!) were waiting.
We ran round the corner to hear a mini roar and crossed the finish line, 133 miles and 5 days from where it had all begun, and we dished out as many sweaty hugs as we could to friends and girlfriends and parents who had travelled across and made a huge effort. It was good to see Ed at the finish line, he was clearly disappointed not to have been involved in the running but had told us this was far outweighed by the relief that his dad was at home and recovering. It was a shame not to see Ged though, as he was stuck in a jam in central Amsterdam cursing Dutch drivers for not being as good as the Belgians.
The weekend after was filled with lots of food, lots of drink, and not enough sleep, but then again I dont think we could ever have had enough. If anyone ever asks me about doing something similar, I’ll tell them to do it aslong as they have copious amounts of 4 things….
Commitment. Determination. Vaseline. Nipple Tape.
The number of people we need to say thankyou to and without whom this wouldnt have happened would make this already long ramble double in length. Suffice to say that I’ll thank you all personally in due course.
~WESTY
