I sit here writing this from what has become the all too familiar position of rest as I recuperate from an injury once again, strictly speaking it’s only my second injury since February of last year year however the strained adductor that I suffered back then took until April of this year to fully clear up and within six weeks of my return I was undergoing hernia surgery that had been on the cards for a few years in all honesty. So I was so glad to finally lace up and get back out on the road again a few weeks ago but it has all come to a juddering halt again with what appears to be bursitis of the hip on the right side, fortunately it doesn’t appear to be a major issue and I’m hoping that a couple of weeks of rest should see me right. For the time being I’m tempted on a daily basis as the railway line I work on passes the trails I’ve recently discovered and enjoyed in the South Downs, but one day soon I’ll be back on those trails with the occasional hum of a passing electric train to remind me what pays for my trainers, my races and associated hotels and travel costs etc!
One of the great difficulties of an injury like this is that you never truly know if you’re properly healed until you run either with or without any after effects and I have a marathon booked for the end of October and ideally I need another long run before then but I’m not sure whether I can manage it without any problems, in addition I have an eight mile race next week and the Great South Run on the 22nd but I guess I can use these as a guide to how I’m doing. The start of September was full of optimism for the approaching season and one of my favourite parts of the year for running as the temperatures cool down and the colours of autumn start to show in all their glory. My first long run of the month involved taking a train to Fareham and then following the coast all the way home on a route that takes in much of the course of Fareham Parkrun and is pretty much an even split between trail and tarmac which amounted to a precise 13.1 miles thanks to a slight diversion just before home! A couple of short runs over the next few days on the city streets culminated in my return to Southsea Parkrun on a sunny morning for a gentle run along the sea front and back.
The following day started with another train journey, to Petersfield this time for the 15 mile run back to Havant via Butser Hill and Queen Elizabeth Country Park. This route is easier the other way around as it’s uphill for the first four miles including the intensely steep climb of Butser Hill through which I piqued the interest of a herd of cows chewing on the grass, they did seem surprised at the sight of me as I guess approaching the hill from the north is something only crazy fools do, the south approach is a far more gentle incline and far less overgrown! They soon returned to their meal as I continued on to the summit before struggling to run down the other side without falling down. The rest of the route was gently downhill but still quite undulating until Rowlands Castle railway station where I was back on the tarmac and heading for the sprawling Leigh Park estate in Havant where most of my in-laws live, I headed straight for the station however and was quickly on the train home after covering the 15 miles in around 2h 45.
A couple of days later I picked up a cold and put the running shoes away for a few days before returning with a slow six miler which I followed with an enjoyable 18 mile run along the east coast of Portsmouth and over to Hayling Islind 
before returning on the same route which incidentally forms the basis for the Portsmouth Coastal Marathon in December. It was after those 18 miles that I first felt a sore hip but within a few days it seemed like it had cleared so I went out for my first dusk run of the season and from somewhere I pulled out an impressive 1h25 ten miler making it by far my fastest ten mile run in almost two years-and it didn’t even feel that hard, it really was quite peculiar but after that the sore hip was back so I decided there and then to rest for at least a week and after a few miserable days with all manner of negative thoughts in my mind such as ‘will I ever be fully fit again’ and ‘maybe I’ll take a year off to let my body recover’ my sanity returned and I have opted to take two weeks off which takes me up to next weekend when I have my eight mile race, depending on how that goes I might do a few additional miles afterwards in preparation for the marathon but I know that it could be a slow and tough marathon-it should be better than Milton Keynes 2015 though where my training was compromised to a much greater degree!
I have to accept that despite having done seven marathons and an ultra my body isn’t always capable of achieving what my mind thinks it can do and I really have to be more disciplined when it comes to recovering from injury because yet again I appear to have tried to go too far too soon and ended up with an injury. Fortunately I can still run with this injury and it really is a case of discomfort rather than any degree of pain, but it will only heal if I rest. So I’m looking forward to my races next month but not without some trepidation, I just hope that next week’s race goes without any problems.
Almost immediately I found myself in a vast field of wheat which had been largely spoiled by recent rains after which I hit the top of a small ridge and found what I wanted, open land and a beginner’s level trail ahead of me. I was already enjoying it and despite the attraction of the sea it made my usual routes along the sea front in Portsmouth pale into insignificance. Before long I was back on tarmac and heading rather rapidly downhill into the village of Finchdean where I knew I had to roughly turn left to pick up the next trail although I did have to resort to Google Maps to find the right field in which to make an entrance to make a start on the next stage of the route, just after this I lost signal on my phone and had to rely on my limited experience of the area as viewed from the train to London so I made my way up a reasonably steep hill to reach the top of a ridge that lasts for just over a mile and I knew from a previous encounter nearby for a photo shoot. The route flattened out considerably and I had the view I had hoped for despite a lack of sun as I looked out for a few miles either side of Staunton Way with the eleventh century church of St Hubert’s in Idsworth being pretty much my only visual reference point. Then came my turning point for the top part of the route I had visualised in my mind, except I wasn’t quite sure where it was so I made a bold choice to head to what was now the only landmark I could see and that was the radio mast at the top of Butser Hill which stands at 900 feet and is only just short of being the highest point in Hampshire so I knew 
that by taking that route it would be a big climb on a route I really wasn’t sure of at all, but it’s long been a quest of mine to run between Rowlands Castle and Petersfield and this represented a great chance to actually fulfil that goal so off I went, not without some trepidation I hasten to add. My arrival into Chalton was heralded by following the trail into a graveyard, in particular this one was at St Boniface church with graves who’s details were fading away as the decades and centuries have passed, immediately opposite was the more appealing sight of the Red Lion Pub 
and this wasn’t just any old pub but one that goes back over five hundred years and is reputed to be the oldest pub in Hampshire. But this wasn’t a pub crawl and the cool temperature meant that I was still quite well hydrated so onward I went with a little help from a map and the smooth texture of a road beneath my feet for a short while until I made another turn northwards onto a trail among rolling hills which may well look inviting visually however I must point out that the next half a mile was accompanied by the odour of a local farmer muck spreading one of his fields although this may have been a good 
thing as it spurred me on to run a bit faster for a bit! Shortly afterwards I chanced upon the Queen Elizabeth Country Park visitor centre which was a handy location for a quick hydration break before burrowing under the A3 and then making that steep climb up Butser Hill. I’d say I’ve had it easy so far as a runner, I live in a lovely flat city with nice sea views and a few very horizontal coastal trails so the idea of hill running is something that I don’t encounter too often so I opted to briskly walk up the hill although a small amount of running did take place, it also turned out to be the first time I’d run in an area I was sharing with farm animals-sheep in this instance! My excitement at arriving at the summit was tempered only by the rather dismal weather which failed to show the beauty 
of nature in it’s full technicolour glory, nevertheless the vista was sublime and worth every step of my clambering up through the rough grass and dodging the sheep poop all over the place! But after a short rest and a brief trek to look down on the market town of Petersfield I knew that as per the laws of gravity I now had to make my way downhill which I managed via a narrow and fairly rough trail that I had recalled from last year when I was initially checking out a route from Petersfield to Butser. Downhill was more difficult than uphill however as there were far too many exposed tree roots, sharp turns and slippery ground to simply allow gravity to assist my efforts as it would on a descending road such as Portsdown Hill, great care had to be taken not too end up falling over which could’ve been quite disasterous as I was invisible from local roads and on a rather desolate trail, had I been hurt and unable to move I’m really not sure what I would’ve done. On arrival at some level ground at last I found myself still slightly disorientated although I was fairly sure that I had to head for the sound of the A3 which I duly did and then followed the road into Petersfield before making one more wrong turn which took me to the wrong side of the 
railway station. At this point the idea in my head was that I could rely on my brother who works at the station to get me a couple of glasses of tap water so I could rehydrate a little but not only was I unable to locate him but a train back to Portsmouth turned up almost immediately, fortuitously for me it was about twenty minutes late and saved me hanging around for ages!
With that out of the way I got on with the main event and continued along the promenade right to its end at Eastney about three miles away, I feel as if I know every inch of that promenade as it’s become a staple running location for me and I’m usually down there at least once or twice a week, it’s also home to Southsea Parkrun which I’ve done more than thirty times so far. Turning around the corner in Eastney is the opposite of one of the toughest parts of the Great South Run when the wind suddenly hits you in the face like the slap of a wet fish, but the weather was benign today and as I hit the four mile mark I was really feeling it in my legs but I felt confident that seven miles was attainable and I started mentally visualising the route the rest of the run would take to make it seven miles plus up to half an hour of walking and warming down to get me home. Up to this point I’d been doing 10-10.30 per mile which wasn’t the pace I’d aimed for but for me it was more important to get the distance in rather than worry about the pace that I’m clearly not going to have after such a long lay off. The miles started counting down as I passed St Mary’s hospital which is the place of my birth but also the location of my surgery in May which caused this latest period of rest, then on to Milton cemetery and St Mary’s church before picking up the pace a bit for the final mile and finishing mile seven in 1.10.47 and walking back home for some liquid refreshment as I’d neglected to take a water bottle with me.
Well the end of June has been and gone and I’m nowhere near ready for even light running, I was surprised when my GP signed me off work for six weeks and then disappointingly surprised when the company doctor ruled me out of full duties until August 16th, however even that looks like a potentially tough target as things stand. I returned to work last Thursday in a role that takes me back a few years to one of my earlier jobs with the company. My normal role is as a train guard and although it isn’t generally physically demanding I have to be fit enough to assist disabled passengers on and off my train and to safely execute a controlled evacuation of my train should it become necessary, in addition there’s quite a bit of walking involved so for the time being I am travelling to Guildford and assisting in the ticket office until the end of the month after which I’ll need to refresh my route knowledge as by then it will have been over three months since I last worked a train. On paper it sounds great, a month of light work before getting back to my proper job but things are already going wrong and I’ve only been back two days!
I can’t even rule out the fact that perhaps this is how things will be from now on, maybe I’ll never be back to how I was before the surgery and if that’s the case then my long distance running days are behind me, maybe 5k and 10k events will be my limit from this point on. The Great South Run in October is starting to look doubtful now and that would be my third consecutive DNS but the nightmare I had last year means there’s no chance of me training for a race I shouldn’t be doing. I could’ve had a three month injury rest in Spring last year but by continuing to train for a marathon in September it meant that it took until April of this year before I was fit again-and within a month of that it’s all gone downhill again. I won’t pretend it isn’t getting me down because it is, I’d feel a whole lot more positive if I knew how long this is going to go on for and there’s just too much uncertainty at the moment. As far as work is concerned there’s an offer of a second visit to occupational health that I will almost certainly take up before too long.
ing buses that tour the city!
My first 20 mile run went well with a steady pace of around 9.40 per mile but my second twenty miler and final long run was a bit of a disaster having spent the previous day in airports and on planes thus not having carb loaded or rested resulting in a decent first fifteen miles but then a struggling hour for the last five miles. That poor final run meant I suddenly had all manner of doubts as to whether I would even complete the course but I was determined to at least make the start line and give it a go.
A quick check of Google Maps enabled me to continue on my way but my 2 mile warm up was now a 3.6 mile warm up which was hardly the ideal way to prepare. I eventually arrived at the start line with about twenty minutes to go which gave me the chance to have a look at Stadium MK although I guess it won’t count as an official visit for ’92 Club’ purposes! I then made my way to the back of the pack which is my usual strategy for any race as my opinion is that there is a huge psychological advantage in spending the race overtaking people rather than being overtaken. With my warm up complete I felt a nervous adrenaline waiting for the race to get underway and as the wave in front surged forward those of us nearer the back slowly trudged towards the line with some degree of lethargy and reluctance but as we crossed the start we soon started jockeying for position seeking a clear path to the miles and pain which would eventually be visited upon us all whilst all that could be heard was the thundering sound of rubber on tarmac as we all cantered forward one step at a time. The first recognisable showing of support from people watching us was at the one mile marker when someone shouted ‘You’re a mile closer to the finish than when you started’, it brought a chuckle for it’s honesty from most of us!
I wasn’t really targeting a particular time as this was my first marathon so a personal best was guaranteed but in order not to set off too fast I had planned to run at 10.20 per mile which is around 4h20 for the full distance but mindful of having been advised never to change strategy until at least halfway I was happy enough just to enjoy the experience and my first highlight was about 5k into the race where my wife was waiting to greet me with an energy drink that I had a few sips of after telling her I was feeling good and everything was okay before continuing through downtown MK and then off into the countryside. Around ten miles in the half marathon runners peeled off and returned to the stadium for their big finish and I had a slight hint of jealousy wishing I was nearly finished but having a sudden feeling of incredulity that after all the training here I was actually running a marathon when just a few months previously I hadn’t even considered running as a pastime! 
That thought soon passed as we headed into the picturesque village of Simpson with residents watching our progress as the temperatures began to rise and before long I reached the halfway point in around 2h16 but the warmth of the spring sun soon took it’s toll and a mile or two later I was on a lengthy stretch with no shade and could feel myself getting weaker with each step, luckily a drinks station was just around the corner so I stopped for a couple of minutes to have an energy gel and take on some liquids which rather quickly gave me a good boost to set me on my way again. A few miles later there was the wonderful sight of a kindly local family with a hose gently spraying us which was probably the shortest yet most refreshing shower I’ve ever had! 
A mile from the end I finally glimpsed my prize as Stadium MK began to loom large on the horizon and I felt a surge of energy which pushed my pace down significantly until I reached the runners funnel just outside the arena and unexpectedly saw my wife waiting patiently with a camera for me to pass as she so often does and as much as I wanted to stop and hold on to her tight for a minute I knew that with just 500 yards to go if I stopped too long I simply wouldn’t be able to start again! So off I went entering the stadium from the south with half a lap of the pitch to go and finally at this point I knew I was going to do it and glory was so close I could touch it. I passed the east side, ran across the north side and then from somewhere I used every last gasp of energy I had to sprint the last hundred metres to the finish line finally realising the dream that had kept me 
going on the long difficult training runs that hadn’t gone well and the days when I just didn’t want to run but did so anyway. In that instant of crossing the line the wave of emotion and utter positive mental strength that overcame me was without equal, I had achieved something of huge proportions entirely on my own, I was a marathon runner and that was a title that will remain with me forever. 
Suburban Jogger 