While runners were flocking to Hastings to take part in probably the worlds hilliest half marathon course, I was using my well honed flat pancake radar to scout out one of the few level routes in the vicinity. We settled upon the Rye Harbour Nature reserve, only a few miles away from our lovely Hotel in Hastings.
It had been a leisurely start to the day, with a late and extensive breakfast followed by a gentle stroll along the seafront.
I’m afraid my breakfast was still with me when we started the run. It jiggled inside me until the 2.5k point when terrible things began to happen.
It was sudden onset runners tum.
We were probably in the worse place to have runners tum. A barren landscape of marsh and shingle with no emergency cover points. I was in the middle of nowhere, cramping and coming quite close to panic.
I thought we were half way round the shortest route option so chose to plough on. 6 k later we were still out there, trying out one dead end after another. This is the place that hikers go to die, they wander out with a spring in their step and hours later the mist has descended and they succumb to exposure.
There was no mist in sight today, in fact there was glorious sunshine, but it’s hard to look on the bright side of life when your entire internal gubbings are threatening to erupt. This run/walk was a complete struggle for me, I had to beg Lynn to let me walk and had to resort to distraction techniques such as pointing out interesting-ish birds just so she’d stop and look.
When we finally traced our steps back to the car park we arrived just in time to see the caretaker locking the public toilets and the only pub the neighbourhood was shut til 7pm.
Treadmill running seems an awful lot more attractive at the moment. You never have to go too far from a public convenience.