10 Aug Running The White Rat
I recently shared my journey about getting back to running, how my fitness had taken a huge nose dive and how I was going to walk/run/jeff the 11-mile White Rat trail run. I feel like the universe had slightly different plans. Read about the slightly eventful 48 hours around race day.
Friday morning my husband left to go on a two-day training course. However, he arrived home shortly after? In May he had his gall bladder removed after being very unwell for several months. We had hoped that the removal of the gall bladder would be the end to him feeling dreadful. However, there were still complications and after suffering extreme pain for several hours it was becoming unbearable for him and off we went to A&E. We spent around 5 hours having lots of checks and were invited back the following day for further tests and scans.
It was VERY clear that I wasn’t going to be entering the race the following day. We got back from the hospital and were working out if there was even a slight chance to somehow get him to the hospital and me still to my race. Whilst also juggling childcare. His symptoms were easing with some seriously strong pain relief. So with a well-orchestrated timetable of childcare, I was off driving to my race whilst he was driving to the hospital.
I got to the event and felt completely wrong! I shouldn’t have been on the start line, I should have been with him. But we were fairly reassured that there was a rogue stone remaining and this blockage was causing the pain and that another procedure might be needed to remove this last rogue stone.
It wasn’t all that long before the runners were being called to busses to be ferried to the start line. This is where it started to go wrong! The journey from the finish at Porthpean to the start at Gorran Haven is about 9 miles. This should take about 20 minutes. But being August, the summer holidays are in full swing and there was a lot of traffic on the roads. We soon found out that the usual main road was closed due to an accident and suddenly we were on the tiny cornish backroads in a massive coach and there weren’t many passing places. Just extending the journey time wouldn’t have been the end of the world, except the coach’s clutch was starting to frazzle. Each time we approached a hill, the coach was getting warmer and warmer, filling with the smell of burning clutch and conking out. We evacuated the coach and walked, then got on, then off and on again. The coach simply couldn’t go uphill with us all on board.
We did eventually make it to the start line with minutes to spare. Making a dash to the toilet and arriving, now at the hottest point of the day, sweating frustrated and ready to start the race. I think the previous days’ events in the hot hospital and honestly not drinking enough were catching up with me and my head was starting to pound.
The race started at Gorran and was a fairly uphill start to the event. As with a lot of other runners, we all walked the opening section together, we slowed to let each other queue through the styles and gates and it must have been at least a mile before I needed to attempt running.
Race Start
It was HOT but I felt OK, I was starting to enjoy being out on the trail and clearing my mind of the past 24 hours. I had my phone on me and was fully prepared to drop out if needed. As the miles passed by the day was getting hotter and hotter. I felt fabulous up until around 7 miles in. At this point, things started to unravel. I was HOT. The ice pop at the checkpoint was very much needed but short-lived.
I was starting to struggle. The heat was getting too much and I was pouring water over my head to cool down. I slowed down to walk more and then the calf cramps arrived with force. That was it, game over, no more running. Other than the uphills, I was doing a lot more running than I thought and was really pleased with the speed of my progress. But all of this was over as I could barely step one foot in front of the other. My calves were cramping like I had never experienced before. Perhaps doing that amount of running on race day whilst only really walking during training wasn’t the best idea. But in all honesty, I felt dizzy and wobbly and wasn’t sure I could continue.
I approached mile 9 and nearly burst into tears. I was in so much pain, I was even walking backwards up the hills to avoid my calves cramping anymore. But at mile 9 was my husband, my son and a friend. Whilst I was having a mental battle on the coast path, my friends and family had rallied around with childcare and managed to come and meet me on the course. I’m not going to lie, I was ready to quit and jump in the car with them and go home. But I was so close to finishing and with only walking baby steps at a time I was chipping away at the distance. I still had the steepest sections of the whole race to go, and as loads of people were overtaking me, I really couldn’t see how I was going to get off the coast path. I just keep shuffling, I shuffled up the massive uphill steep finish and I shuffled across the finish line.
I genuinely don’t know where that strength came from, I had tears in my eyes. Tears that my husband was out of the hospital, tears that after such a gruelling couple of years had actually achieved something. I literally went through the finish, dizzy, spaced out, emotional and utterly relieved it was over.
The Finish
After a bottle of Lucazade and a large dose of salts, the calf cramps were easing and I was starting to feel more normal. On reflection, I was dehydrated on the start line and that with the heat, it wasn’t the best start. But with sheer grit and determination, I finished. But not only did I finish, I DIDN’T come last.
I might even need to sign up next year, with a little more training, a little more hydration and fewer broken down busses, 🤣 I reckon I could get a better result. That’s it, I’m hooked, could trail running be my new favourite thing?
