Ingredients:
A 20 mile circuit
Several shingle beaches
Multiple heart-pounding, thigh-burner hills, some with steps for extra toughness
Lots of mud
A river crossing,
A man playing the bagpipes
lots of coastal footpaths
A 400meter section of waist-high bog
A bracing dose of gale-force winds,
Threatening weather fronts rolling in off the sea
A viscous skin-burning hail storm
Method:
Choose a route that takes you through woodland, country lanes, past thatched cottages and a band playing in every pub you pass, Toss in some sweet scented air of roasting joint and wood burrning stoves… mix these with the above ingredients and finish with a cliff top views where you can see for forever and more, Making sure at this point… you note the breath taking, (if you have any breath) the contrast between the sun-drenched rolling green land and deep blue sea, and crisp blue sky before you.
Readers I serve you up the feast which is the 2009 cult race, The Grizzly, in Devon
This was my second full Grizzly, a race I grew up aspiring to complete. It’s no mean feat... it’s the Marmmote of the running world. After mum completed her first marathon in November last year her training was already in the bag. I yet again applied the pressure using the usual world war one recruitment tactics, ‘what will your tell your grandchildren when they ask you if you ever did the grizzly, and ‘you need to do this race before your too old or get hit by a bus.’
The Grizzly fills its 2000 places within a minute of opening each September and is organized by the ‘lean bean running machine’ re-named this year as the ‘lean, bean Bogg-finding machine. It’s end to end quirkiness. The Buddhist temple half way up a mountain at mile 11 is really quite something with prayer flags from Nepal, incenses burning and bells chiming, added to all this are many little signs along the track bearing messages of inspiration, ‘pain is temporary pride lasts for everâ€, and other idiosyncratic quotes and questions. My personal favorite was at 18miles where the sign reads ‘what is the speed of dark’.
At the finish to clean off the black-bog war paint, a sign reads ‘solar-heated bath house this way’ and points at the sea. Also on hand is the local fire brigade hosing everyone down.
It’s 20 miles but times are comparable to a full 26 mile marathon and certainly hurts a hell of a lot more. Reflectively it’s worth every moment of pain for the overwhelming feel of achievement and immense sensation of sheer exhilaration at those views.
The 60 year old legend that is my mother did 4hours 45 and I did 3hours 15, a great day all round. Mummy Thomas can now officially retire with the knowledge that there’s nothing left to achieve, she’s done it all….. time she got a bike if you ask me….
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