Pero las llamas son peligrosas - Larmer Tree Half Marathon

Pero las llamas son peligrosas. 

As Monty Python has told us, Llamas are dangerous. Yet this didn't put me off entering the Larmer Tree Half marathon during the autumn of 2014. Like a baby distracted by a mobile above it's cot, I'd seen the medals on offer by those crazy folk at White Star Running, entered the Bad Cow event, then seen an even more awesome medal for the Larmer Half. I'd paid my entry & then took a moment to look at the course profile. Bugger. Oh dear, what have I done. Oh, I appear to have roped my friends into this madness as well? Looks like I'm set for a day of pain and a lifetime of excommunication then.
You seen White Star do indeed do amazing medals, but you have to work for the damn things. You want bling? You have to exchange part of your soul for it, but there will at least be cake at the end.
How did I even get to this point? The Cambridge Half the week prior was meant to be the full stop on this training cycle. Forget how, why was I even signing up for an off road half marathon with a huge amount of elevation? I know my comfort zone & all this needed was a pantomime donkey to kick me in the balls every kilometre to make this a less pleasant experience surely?
In truth I wanted to test myself. This time last year I didn't even own trail shoes & mostly ran on my own. Now I had a choice of trails or mudclaws & would be running with one of my best friends so that we could suffer together. The majority of my half marathons have been big events, in the first fifteen I'd wager that maybe less than 1km was off road. In elevation terms, cumulatively they'd probably equal the Larmer.
First of course, I had to get to the start line......

Post Cambridge Half recovery

I'd rather unwisely agreed to a game of squash on Monday morning, feeling that the activity might be a good way to get everything moving again following the half marathon. My opponent hadn't played for years but had the shots, I soon lost the first game unexpectedly. I'd realised that he had little cardio so changed my game accordingly to try and wear him down to get back in. By 0-3 down it was clear that though this tactic was having some effect, there was more chance I'd need to call my opponent an ambulance that my appalling squash rising to the top. The match ended up being the last thing I needed, the more I fell behind the more I pushed, not exactly a gentle easing of the legs following a tough half!
My quads were still complaining throughout the week & it wasn't until Friday morning that I finally felt normal. Lucky then that I'd scheduled a run of the winter route around the forest with Karl from the HFPR core team. I was trying to film the course on a Go Pro borrowed from Notley's Len. Conditions were just about perfect & it was pleasing to see how much better the ground was underfoot. Unfortunately the battery died just after 4km as we entered the muddy phase. One downside to the improved conditions elsewhere on the course is that the muddy crescendo to the winter route had all but dried out, our runners would be missing out on the fun!
After finishing the run I was home, showered & onto the physio table before taking the train into London. I was there for the usual top up, but decided it was time to ask my physio to check on this nagging groin injury. A groin strain was the diagnosis, one that has probably been strained and recovered only to strain again repeatedly since first occurring last summer. No point in treating it on the Friday as that would rule out the half marathon. So I booked up a couple sessions to follow the half marathon, if the the basic diagnosis prodding was anything to go by, it would be damn painful. I was annoyed with myself that it had taken this long to get my physio to look at the issue. I'd put myself through some anguish in the months preceding as the injury manifested itself in different ways, I was just thankful that the injury itself was minor enough to still allow for a half marathon before being treated properly.

parkrun Pilot

Before I could head down to the west I had the small matter of the parkrun pilot at Hatfield Forest to contend with. The whole week had seen parkrun activity shoehorned into any available moment. Be it painting signage at 6am before work, getting home from overtime to build signs, spend the train journeys into London working on paperwork, if I had a spare moment it was filled with parkrun in one form or another. The whole week was tiring, I felt like a plate spinner, just about keeping everything going.
Even at 8pm when I'd got home from work I still had plenty to do. Signs still needed attaching to posts, the whole parkrun paraphernalia needed loading into the Alfa that was bursting at the seams. At half ten I took a dinner break and allowed myself half an hour. Sure the volunteer lanyards still needed making up, but I needed just half an hour.

One whole parkrun fits nicely into the Alfa

I slept pretty well considering, if I get as good a night of sleep for the inaugural I'd be pleasantly surprised. I had started to cut up Lanyards whilst waiting for a cup of tea to cool, but realised it would take far longer than I felt I had available to me so quickly chucked everything into my various boxes & loaded the remainder into the car & headed to the forest. The core team started to arrive at 7am and we set about trying to understand how to setup the course.
We seemed to figure it out & our volunteers added new roles such as stationary support to help get all of the laminates ready. By ten to nine the sun had joined us & we were saying hello to all of our runners.

Never will the parkrun kit be this neat ever again!

Everyone seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, our tail came through in under 30 minutes, perhaps they all knew I had to get down to Wiltshire. Sadly we had some IT issues, but after decamping to the estate office we were able to get the results uploaded to the parkrun test site and after some head scratching got them all sorted out.
We were also able to get some good feedback on the course & some tweaks we could make to the course & our processes. Even the results hiccup was an experience, giving us a chance to try the various options on the processing site to see how the outcome was changed.

The Larmer Tree Half

We've established how I ended up entered for the Larmer Half, blinded by the shiny. All I now needed to do was get there. Paul & Emily had made their way down earlier in the day to see Stone Henge & we'd all booked into a Travelodge nearby for some consistent mediocrity you'd expect. Regular readers will know that I recently added a random factor to my life by buying an Alfa. True to form, the Motor Control System Failure alert started the moment I pulled onto the M11 southbound. Nothing drive wise appeared to be wrong, so funk it, let's carry on. In fact, apart from being a bit beepy every time it is started, the Alfa was a joy to drive on it's first major journey.
I was soon at the Travel Tavern on the A303, catching up with Emily & Paul who wanted the low down on the pilot. After some carb loading in nearby Salisbury & an emergency purchase of plasters, it was time to sleep ahead of the further 40 minute journey down to the Larmer Tree Gardens in the morning.
I'd packed for every eventually, Cold, Ok and really warm, in fact I had enough kit for three runs! I'd also packed extra gels as the trail nature of the course would add time & therefore might need more replenishment.

Be prepared is what I was taught at Cubs

Paul was starting an hour before us for the 20 miler, so we picked our numbers up & mooched for a bit. This led to be purchasing another awesome White Star product, nothing if not predictable! The only pre race feedback we could give is that race category signage above the desks would have been handy & avoided being in the wrong queues, a minor issue though.

Pre race smiles....

Soon it was our turn to start, though the briefing was going on whilst I was still in a portaloo! In fact we ended up crossing the line at the back of the pack, not ideal but the course was wide enough initially to still get into a rhythm.
Emily & I had run together previously when I'd paced her at the HBO 10k last year, this was an altogether more relaxed setting. The nature of the course had led me to the belief that anything within 30 minutes of the Cambridge Half would be a good result. We had the bizarre sight of a pacing tractor at one point. It appears one of the local farmers had just driven straight onto the country lane & was now limited by the runners in front until they could find an appropriate point to leave the road. Fair play to the driver, seemed to be going at a nice 6:00/km pace, shame it was just too far ahead for us to grab a tow!

The pacing tractor

The first few kilometres seemed to fly by. A brief stop at an aid station for Emily to take on water & at one point she even suggested that maybe the 20 miler wouldn't be so bad (more on that later). Our initial pace was decent, though I had to keep reminding myself that this was not a race for the stopwatch, this was an experience race.
I found myself enjoying the run, truth be told, it was flippin awesome. I was completely outside of my comfort zone, technically injured & loving every minute of it. The terrain was constantly changing, the course was a literal roller-coaster, yet we were able to keep going.
Or at least we were.....
Then this appeared.
I've christened many hills in my parkrun career as a #hillofdoom. When this came into view it was a #hillofohthatcanfunkrightoff. The hill was expected, we'd seen it on the course map, but theory & reality are two different things. What didn't help was seeing it from a distance, you could see that no one was running up it. That's a slight untruth, we saw one person start running up it & then succumb to walking very quickly.

The hill comes into view

And then more into view.....

We chose to walk it up, it made much more sense. Perhaps if it had been tarmac instead of soft grass it might have been manageable. Even walking was tough, halfway up my groin made it's displeasure known, just another 8km to get my knackered body through. It didn't help that the painkillers I thought I'd packed turned out to be in the boot of the Alfa waiting for me upon my return. Bit of a failure.

The view from the top of the #hillofohthatcanfunkrightoff

If the ascend was tough, then the descend that followed was probably the most technical I've faced. My lack of experience in trail running came to the fore here. I decided running on my heels to be the most logical way. That didn't last long as the route kept turning & involved lots of branches that even Emily had to evade! Scuttling like a crab became the method & soon we were at the bottom of the hill.
Thankfully the Lovestation was waiting for us. Yes folks, you read that correctly, the Lovestation. White Star don't do normal aid stations. At this point you could hug a man with a kilt and a badger on his sporran, grab a cheeky cider or blackberry vodka. Perhaps a flat coke would take your fancy before you loaded up on cocktail sausages, mini scotch eggs and jelly babies. And of course no one leaves the Lovestation without a hug!

Emily & the badger merkin guy

I opted for flat coke (good idea), a jaffa cake (good idea), a mini scotch egg (bad idea) and some jelly beans (should have been a good idea). The reason a scotch egg is a bad idea, the size of one is roughly the same as your mouth, so chewing it whilst running isn't easy. Secondly, another chuffing steep hill followed the Lovestation, so trying to run uphill, struggling for air with a mini scotch egg blocking the intake seems like a bad combination. Thirdly, they repeat on you for ages, even when you try to wash them down with jelly beans.

The Lovestation

Goodies galore at the Lovestation

Once my attempt at scotch egg asphyxiation had been avoided we were ready to carry on with the rest of the run. With the post Lovestation hill out of our way we were able to get back into a bit of a rhythm. Mud seemed to be becoming the prevalent theme of the remaining miles. We thought some respite was due when we pulled onto a nice country lane, only for it to lead to the last aid station & a turn into more mud.

Won't these hills stop?

The "Say Cheese" function on the new phone generally produces confused gurning from me

The majority of the last three miles appeared to be mostly mud, with a bit of woodland trail mixed in with some hills. By now were we walking up any significant hill, especially the muddy ones as the trail shoes weren't providing much traction. It made much more sense to walk at a pace, easily the same pace as a tired run uphill & useful for preserving the remaining energy. Here the mudclaws would have been handy, but they'd have been pointless on the road sections. An attempted leap over a muddy puddle left both groins feeling it, thankfully no lasting damage, just a moment of pain.

More damn hills?

The miles of mud were starting to impact our pace, the legs definitely tiring. Thankfully we soon turned for home, the trail was coming to an end, it was time to cross the road to enter the Larmer Tree Estate. As we climbed the last gentle hill towards the finish we saw Paul to the side & gave him a wave. For some reason unbeknown to either of us we agreed on a sprint finish & I was pleasantly surprised to find some gears left. The race had been a test for the legs, but the cardio was still good.
No medals at the end, we established why already. Instead a choice of a beer or a buff (though I believe for contractual reasons they call them muffs). As I was driving I opted for the buff, a handy bit of kit for when I'm standing around in charge of the parkrun.
I walked through the finish area & found a post to collapse against. That was by far the toughest event I'd taken part in. At 2:26 & change it was the longest run in terms of duration that I've completed. Just over 300m over elevation gain, yet I loved it. I loved the challenge & the feeling of being outside of my usual comfort zone. The race taught me how to adapt to the conditions & by keeping going I realised that I can make the step up to marathon distance in Berlin. I could have easily not taken part, I had good reason not to, but by getting through I gave myself a confidence boost of knowing that I could win the mental battle, as well as the physical.

One groin knackered on me, one knee knackered on Emily

After 50% extra miles & 66% more elevation, Paul was in an advanced state of seizing up

The Eat

Did I mention that WSR laid on free food afterwards as well? After changing into some slightly more pleasant clothes we wandered gingerly back to race HQ, which was now acting as a food hall. On finishing we'd all been given food tokens & after Paul had mentioned Mac & Cheese there was only one thing on my mind. Combined with a big pint of full fat coke it was precisely what I needed. After the food we were all starting to feel slightly more human & ready to make the journey north, the Alfa beeping all the way!

Under this mountain of food is a magma of mac & cheese

A driving home snack, real men eat quiche

Proper dirty beige food in the evening once home. So much beige

The Conclusion

My slowest half marathon. My longest run. The most elevation consumed in a run. Who cares, it was flipping awesome! The first four years of running were an ode to tarmac & getting faster. This past year I've found myself starting to embrace trails, experiences & the social side of running. Spending a couple of hours running with a friend around some stunning, albeit challenging countryside was a great way to spend a day. Rarely do I run & take lots of photos, that wasn't the case during the Larmer, not taking yourself or the race too seriously was the order of the day.

Stole us some peacocks as a temporary replacement for medals. My peacock, Burt is particularly partial to Mountain Dew & Black Jacks.

The guys at White Star Running made the day just about perfect. A chat to a friendly race official whilat queuing for a post race drink made it clear why the event worked so well. They're all runners & designed the event based on what they'd like to see at events. Cool medals, well stocked aid stations, funny signage, free photos, an event with personality. The Cambridge Half a week prior was the kind of homogenous race that could have been staged in any city, the Larmer Races were one of a kind.
The decision to sign up was on a whim based on the medal, the satisfaction on completing the race was measurable with any other high spot in my running career. I'll be back at a WSR race again in August for the Bad Cow weekend & I for one can't wait.

The course profile. Ouch.