January 2015

[Charliecat5]

I’ve done it… I’ve run the Moyleman.

My time wasn’t that bad either… 13 days, 7 hours and 25 minutes.

OK… I ran it in two halves. 

Having successfully negotiated access to an underpass that will take us under the A27 rather than over, someone needed to map the new route.  Sweder still has wonky knees and Porter (rear gunner) seems to disappear whenever someone mentions ‘mapping the Moyleman’, so it was left to me.

After the usual round of taking kids to squash, gym, etc., Mrs Charliecat dropped me back at Southease (where I finished the first half a couple of weeks ago) and drove away.  

I stood on the bridge and stared upwards.   Next stop is Firle Beacon.  It seemed a long way away.  I estimated that Southease to the top would be about 3 miles of constant up-hill running.   Guess what… it’s not!  It’s actually five miles.  Five miles of pounding up hill.  I really enjoyed it.  It is a route I have biked many times, but this was the first time on two feet.  I am beginning to realise how nice it is to run new routes.

From the top of the Beacon the route heads east for about another half mile before turning north down Bo Peep Borstal.   I am not built to run down slopes this steep.  My poor knees… for the first time I had a little bit of sympathy for Sweder.  Just a little bit you understand. 

At the bottom it is a left turn to head west again along the bridle track all the way back to Firle.   The route now goes round Firle Place, rather than through, and then crosses a number of fields eventually finding its way to the underpass.   

Over recent weeks I have been having some troubles with my legs, pulled gluts and calf muscles like piano wires… this run had not done them any favours; by the time I got to Glynde I was really struggling.  Mile 12, Glynde village to the top of Caburn, took 17 minutes (this is my longest mile ever). 

But with the borrowed words of Moyleman racing around my head “suck it up dude”, I kept at it.  Over the top, down into the valley and back up again to bump into a lady of some years out walking who declared that I was mad! OK, I was dressed in shorts running through driving sleet, but still... how rude. Once at the golf course I stopped to phone Mrs Charliecat: “pleeeeeassseee could you pick me from town…. pleeeassseee don’t make me run home”.  Fortunately she agreed. 

From the golf course, it is all downhill onto Cliffe High Street.  The last bit running up to Harvey’s Brewery was weird.  Where were the crowds cheering me on? Where was the finishing line? Where was the pint of Harvey’s thrust into my sweaty hands as a fell across the line? Where were the medals? I've just run the Moyleman FFS...

Nothing… I just hit the stop button on the Garmin, ignored a few funny looks and limped around the corner to get in the car. 

The Moyleman is mapped… we are good to go!