Wrekin Reps

The Wrekin is a lovely little hill near Wellington. It's 407m high, has an Ironage hillfort on the top and a semi-resident population of Fallow deer. To the top and back from the Forest Glen car park is three miles and 200m of height gain. Saturday's session was eight repeats: 24 miles and 1600m of height gain. It was lovely for two reps. The mental stamina required to do another six meant I had to dig quite deep to finish: Hendrix on the iPod helped. Another test materialised Sunday morning when I had to go out and do 12 miles. Imagining they could talk, my legs were saying to me, "Just another half hour in bed Baz. It won't matter if you don't go. We'll really love you." It reminded me a little of my dad's comments on hearing about the poor bloke that tragically collapsed and died after running the Stafford half last weekend, "If he'd have had a lie in and a full English, he'd be alive today". Maybe, maybe not. Dad's too old for running half marathons now but you do hear people using incidents like that to justify not exercising. Better to die like a lion than live like a mouse. My thoughts are with his family. Now, back to my legs. Of course, it does matter if I don't go. The whole point is training my body to go when I don't want to. What's it like doing long runs back to back? Well, for the first two or three miles of the second session, it feels like trying to run with two dead legs. They kind of feel like they don't belong to you; maybe they belong to a distant great aunt, or the Pope perhaps. They certainly don't belong to a runner. Does it get any better? No, not really; you just get used to the feeling. You just keep putting one foot in front of the other, 180 times per minute. Anyway, I'm really chuffed that I've completed the first proper big weekend. I've a few blisters which should dry up tomorrow, no joint, tendon or ligament problems and no chafing. All I need to sort out now is my worryingly pale legs, lack of good looks and absent natural charm. I do have a rather fetching tattoo though.

I've been quite touched by the reaction of people at work. I always thought doing things for charity, mate, was a bit cheesey. People have been very supportive though, saying what a tremendous thing it is that I'm doing, almost as if I'd completed the 100 already. Often, they relate the challenge to a significant run that they've done, but then say that their's is insignificant compared with the Lakeland 100. Not so. If you're running your first 10k, you're still going into the unkown, testing the limits of your mind and body. Until you've done it, you don't even know if you're capable of it. When you start getting into the longer distances, you realise that often, the limiting factor is what's between your ears rather than a perceived lack of athletic ability.

Now to the cancer bit. Some bad news today and some good. The bad: Jade Goody. She died this morning aged 27, leaving behind two kids. The primary cancer was cervical cancer. Whatever you think of her as a celebrity, there's something desparate about a young mother's death in those circumstances. The good: my mate Deb. She's on her second dose of chemotherapy for breast cancer and is doing well.

I've got a well-deserved rest day tomorrow. Don't forget to make a donation at www.justgiving.com/runbazrun. Thanks. Baz.