India, again

It's got to be at least six months since I last blogged about avoiding training in India.  That can only mean one thing - another trip is upon me.  Gah.

But there has been some progress.  For example it's the first of the lycra-clad speed-freak triathlon series tonight in Brighton, and I'm going to miss it because I'm stuck out here.  I would have been delighted, but actually I'm disappointed.

It also means that I have almost exclusive use of a pool, and an encouraging fan base.  Last year I overheard a woman complain "How can she swim so fast when she is so fat?" to her husband. And yes, I took it as a compliment.  This year someone said directly to my face "You are very swift for a large girl".  Which is definitely progress in my book.

And, it's mango season!  This was the menu from the local restaurant.  It didn't change all week.   Highlights included a new variety of mango called "mongo", an interesting take on an English classic ("Mango, bread and butter pudding" which was gluten and dairy free, ie didn't have any bread or butter.  Or any pudding for that matter), a drink even worse than Indian wine (Aam Ka Panna), and an unexpected spontaneous mango-themed colonic irrigation on the flight back.

Fourth item on the menu includes a new, lesser known variety - Mongo

If you ever find yourself with too many green mangoes, don't pickle them.  Ever.

Tonight's excuse for not training.....

.... is the best yet.  Little Scratchy huffed and puffed and blew three little kittens out tonight.  We weren't expecting her to drop for another couple of weeks, and had a bit of a panic about what to do.  Luckily the internet came to the rescue.  Even luckier, Scratchy knew just what to do without having to google anything once.

From right to left - Boris, Doris and Forrest

The Bluebell 10k Trail

Except it was not blue and there were no bells.  However, of course there were unexpected hills.

The first plan was to cycle there (around 25km), run the 10k, and then cycle back home again. The second plan was to stay in bed the whole time.  In the end I compromised with myself and got a lift from Jenny the Hedgehog (in the "Sonic" sense, not prickly).

It was a good run.  I can't tell that by how I felt, as I'm pretty sure that I thought I was going to die the whole way round.  I can't tell that by the way I fell away from Sonic before the first and only water stop.  I can't tell from the supercomputer on my wrist which kept telling me to try harder.  No, I can tell because I managed to stay with Jacko the whole way.  In fact I took him out on the last uphill, and finished 10 seconds ahead.  Go, Issi!

Results from the Bluebell 10k Trail.  Sonic finished 175th.  I finished 189th.  A full 10 seconds ahead of Jacko !

This time next year.....

..... And I mean it.

This time next year, I won't be watching the Brighton Marathon, waving and clapping like a moron on speed.  No, I will be doing it, running and moaning like a zombie on painkillers.  And I will bring my own bloody chocolate.

The Sussex Half Marathon

This was the official one. The one I'd signed up for just after completing my first 10k race with Sis (Note to self - once you finish a race do NOT sign up for another one, no matter how invincible you feel).  The one I was aiming to complete in under 2:30. The one I even had a training plan for.

It was also the one that I signed up for before I did any research, other than google the words "Sussex", "half", "marathon"* and "free mars bars".  What I should have done was add the words "horrible", "hilly" and "hell no".

It is billed as the hilliest course in England, and they weren't kidding.  CS, LOR and I drove the route the day before, and we managed to stall the car going up one of the hills.  Between shrieks of horror, sobs of terror and stalling of engines, I squeaked "I don't think I can do this".  CS is a man of few words, but when he speaks, you should listen.  He spoke.  I wasn't listening.  He spoke again.  "Of course you can".

So with a certain amount of fear, a lot of resentment towards CS and twice the lethal dose of Imodium in my system (don't ask), I turned up for the race the next day.  I was terrified, but I consoled myself with the promise of free mars bars at every feeding station.

Just before the race I bumped into one of the lycra-clad speed-freaks who cheerfully announced that he was going for the full marathon (twice the course, twice the hills), and was considering the ultra (even more course, even more hills).  I would have punched him really hard if I wasn't conserving all my energy for those pesky hills.  And for carrying my weight in free mars bars up said pesky hills.

So you can imagine my disappointment when I got to the first feeding station.  I asked for a mars bar and they gave me a kit kat**.  Yes, you heard correctly, a kit kat.  Last time I checked, a kit kat doesn't count as a mars bar.  Not even close.  I asked where all the mars bars were and was told that they ran out a few minutes ago.  I childishly giggled at the idea of a mars bars running anywhere, and the thought of catching up with at least one of them spurred me on to the next feeding station.

Same story three miles later.  I didn't laugh at the idea of mars bars running away this time.  Instead I looked at the mound of melting kit kats with suspicion. But I was assured that there were mars bars out there, all I had to do was catch up with them at the next feeding station.

Guess what?  Four miles later I was greeted with a lovely lady begging people to take some kit kats.  She had a mountain of soggy kit kats behind her which were beginning to mould into one giant kit kat under the heat.  It was at this point that I suspected that the person whose only job it was to buy the mars bars had screwed up in a big way.  I might have said that out loud, I can't be sure.  I do know that the lovely lady said "What's the difference?  Chocolate is chocolate isn't it?".  It took me at least 46 seconds to explain three main reasons why a kit kat isn't the same as a mars bar.  I'm sure I would have come up with at least six if I wasn't so hungry.

I finished the course in 2:30:45.  I had trained for a sub 2:30 time, but I'd neglected to train for the arguing with lovely ladies about the relative merits of mars bars over kit kats.

And yes, I've already signed up for next year's race.

Me, before the race.  That's not a real smile.

Me, after the race.  That's not a real smile either.

* Just for the record, the only time I have or will ever google the word "marathon" will be after the words "half" or "how to avoid running a".  Even if they guarantee free mars bars.

** Kit kats have gluten in them.  I can't eat gluten, no matter how much Imodium I have in my system (don't ask)