As Claire, Michelle and I sat on the beach with our battered
feet propped up on chairs, quaffing some well-earned (but ill-advised) wine, we
reflected that we all had just achieved something we wouldn’t have dreamed
possible one year ago back in the UK.
We were sitting in the twilight among other dazed finishers
of the Green Power 50km trail race that wends its way across Hong Kong from the
famous Peak down to the coast on the southeastern shore, via over 5000 feet of
hills and mountains along the way.
For Michelle, she’d not been one for hiking at all in the UK
(aside a one-off epic Inca trail experience) and would have viewed taking on
any sort of long distance challenge as an impossible proposition. And yet there
she was, gingerly prodding at a blister the size of an egg that was testament to
her having completed the course in bang on 10 hours, her ambitious target time.
Claire hadn’t completed the trail, but I was still very
proud of her. We knew that her long-suffering ankle (carrying a 12-year-old
ballet injury) was not up to strength, and because of it she’d only trained
half the distance. She did the first half of the route in record time before
serious limping kicked in; so she took a break and rejoined Michelle for the
final leg to spur her to the finish. The cumulative 30km was further than she’d
ever walked before. Given the traumas a 10km race caused her last summer, that
is saying something. Seeing them run the final straight together was a tiny bit
emotional…
And as for me, this time last year I had my sights set on
half marathons at most, and on the flat. I never ran on hills. 10 months in
this place of extremes (exercise more! Go out more! Work more! Do more stuff!
Sleep less!) changed all that. This is 50km race number 2, and I smashed my
target of 7 hours to pieces, coming in at 5 hours 41 minutes.
I can still feel the exhilaration of a couple of charged moments…when I came down off the biggest hill, and knew I had enough in the tank to
attack a flat section, just as the
sun burst through the clouds…the point I crashed hard into the floor knee-first
over 40km in and rolled onto my back unable to get up, only to be hauled forcibly
to my feet by a passing runner who bellowed at me to keep moving and pushed me hard in the back to get me going again…
But there is also room for a reality check. In the final
stage of training, I could feel my body creaking. It’s not long ago I couldn’t
run at all with shin splints, or my dodgy knee was so bad it kept me away from
all sports. Both felt on breaking point recently, with a host of new aches in
tow. While they didn’t give me a peep on race day, the fact is that if I run
this much forever, it’s only a matter of time.
One day, I’ll be forced into taking up golf as my only
sport when my joints are shot. I know this and am happy with it. But I’ll be pretty grumpy if it’s in
my 30s.
So no more ultramarathons. For now.
Wonder how fast I can do 25km in? Oh look, there’s a 25km race in the
New Territories in March…interesting…
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