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Poet on the Run

Finding sense and making art – one run at a time

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From 'Letter to the Golden Gate Bridge' 🌉 Still learning, but always happy to find treasure on the trail - a blackbird's egg. A heart shaped stone. A note slipped into the bole of a tree for a long ago friend. A line for that poem I tried so long to write, but ran my way there eventually. . If you want to know more about that letter, my debut poetry collection, 'a sky the colour of hope' is out with @vervepoetrypress on 18th June, and is now available for pre order at @waterstones! #poemsfromthetrail

Let's dance, you and me. . Today was a good day. I got to chase this mountain goat 🐐 up some obnoxious cliff path stairs, and spend some time getting that good sea air. Sometimes, a catch up and some trail time is exactly what the doctor ordered 💕 #chalkrockiesac #borninthemud #friendshipandhilltraining #alwaysmorevert #ALLOFTHEHILLS

From "Kelvingrove" 📖 Opening night at @verve.poetry.festival yesterday was a needed few hours of pure joy and goodness, surrounded by dear friends I have missed, and getting to hang out with a load of poets I deeply respect. I was also lucky enough to get a chance to perform (with big thanks to the folks at @vervepoetrypress for letting me on the open mic 🙏). Which, yknow, terrifying in front of people you look up to, but worth the sweaty palms and the late night ❤️ . And with that in mind, I figured it was high time I got back to sharing words on here. Running and writing come from the same place for me, so expect to be seeing some more bits of #poemsfromthetrail over the coming weeks 🏝️🏃‍♀️🌄

ARC50 (4/4) . So, what now? . Right now, I'm taking a day or two to accept the fact that this event utterly kicked my ass. I thought I was trained for it - I wasn't even close. My head wasn't in the game, and I should have done better. . Also right now however, I can take the time to be thankful for having the best god damn team on my side. Chris who was the best crew and partner I could ever hope for, and who was the real hero of the day. Without him I wouldn't have made it. Coach extraordinaire @sophieamygrant, who somehow still believes in me even when I don't. The team at @mudcrew_events who know their onions when it comes to putting on a race that is just about this side of doable, maybe, if you like your races on the spectrum between "deeply uncomfortable" and "DIY vasectomy with a rusty spoon". And the Arc Angels on course - y'all are literally heroes. . And as for me - what I've learned is that I better pull my finger out if I want to be strong enough to take on that trail. So I'm going to rest, recover my legs, and then get the hell back to work. (📸 from the recce a few weeks back)

ARC50 (3/4) . Once in Portreath my leggings were already soaked, but Chris helped me get my waterproof trousers on over the top just to help protect me from the wind which was picking up by then. We milled about looking for the way to go - which was much easier last time in the daylight - and just as I started up that way I met Tammi, a friend of my local friend @wiggilly. And since both of us were feeling rough and suffering a sense of humour failure by then, we teamed up for the last stretch. . The climb out of Portreath was grim but the path was fairly rocky and grippy at first, and we combined running with a sort of stumbling shuffle. We had nearly 2 hours to make it before the finish line cut off, we were grimly determined to just be done, and that was that. . Say it with me one last time.... The SWCP doesn't owe me shit. 🤦‍♀️ . Hills on a 30% odd gradient, where the stairs are muddy to the point of irrelevance, next to a cliff edge, in the dark, in sideways driving rain, when you've already had 45+ miles of this bollocks, is enough to make most people lose their sense of fun. I mean, most of the race had been firmly in the Type 2 fun camp, but really 😑 . Navigation became trickier as there were a few hopeful looking paths that intersected ours. NB. Those all lead to sheer drops, back gardens, or MoD live firing ranges. So up and down we went. We listed out the things we were looking forward to once we were done. Slogged some more. Made it into Porthtowan and cursed the bloody sadist that put the finish line up another whacking great hill covered in gorse bushes. And eventually, finally, made it to the finish with 20 minutes before the midnight cut off, in Dead Fucking Last place. . Once there, the Angels hustled us inside and fed us tea that tasted like ambrosia - and in my case was the first hot thing I'd had since 4am - and made sure we got something dry on. And I finally realised I'd made it - and all I could feel was relief it was over, and like an absolute failure for how weak I'd been mentally, how slow I had been over the course, and how I'm not sure I really deserved to get that finish.

ARC 50 (2/4) . Just as I headed out of the checkpoint at St Ives, I saw a bunch of runners sat outside sorting their packs. At that point all I knew was that they'd left me for dead hours ago, and to hell with everything else, I was not letting that go. So I did the only thing I could, and ran. Hard. . The 6ish miles from there to Hayle are a mix of road and gloriously runnable sandy trail. My shoes, socks, tights - everything - were still soaking wet and full of mud and all sorts, but I could actually *run* after hours of struggling to make any progress even walking, so I ran as much as I could, mixing in fast walking so I'd still have something in the tank over the next 20 miles. Met Chris in Hayle having clawed back some time, and didn't even stop - just grabbed snacks, thanked him and kept going. . As i got to the start of the Dunes of Doom I met and teamed up with a chap who had been ahead and we took on the navigation together (those sand dunes are a bugger in daylight and by then it was pitch black), running as much as we could to get into Godrevy where Chris let me know that I'd managed to get a full half hour up on the cut offs. I let my new friend carry on without me and finally changed my shoes and socks so I wouldn't be running through feet scoured by sodden socks full of sand. Utter bliss. Then jacket on as it had started raining, and onto what I remembered from the last time was a tough but super runnable last 11 miles - with 4 hours to make it through. . About that: the SWCP doesn't owe me shit. . Having had 300+ wet runners through that stretch already, my lovely runnable section was a slippery mudfest that my very comfy but not super aggressive fresh shoes couldn't handle on my best day. And then the rain got heavier. Combined with steep, uneven, cliff edge steps with nothing between me and a long drop but some spiky bushes, I decided against dying and dug down to hike it in, and hit chatting to a guy I'd run with some hours before as we battled to get into Portreath in one piece. It was, suffice to say, bloody grim. . By the time I got to the last checkpoint at Portreath, the rain was turning apocalyptic. And 4 miles left to go. TBC...

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From 'Letter to the Golden Gate Bridge' 🌉 Still learning, but always happy to find treasure on the trail - a blackbird's egg. A heart shaped stone. A note slipped into the bole of a tree for a long ago friend. A line for that poem I tried so long to write, but ran my way there eventually. . If you want to know more about that letter, my debut poetry collection, 'a sky the colour of hope' is out with @vervepoetrypress on 18th June, and is now available for pre order at @waterstones! #poemsfromthetrail

Tag: Preparation

Adventures, Running, SWCP, Trail Running

Saddle Up

It’s go time. Eighteen months of preparation, of training, worrying, pushing myself to the limits of what I could handle, … Continue reading Saddle Up

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