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Storage space running out why,outdoor wood shed utah,garden sheds for sale cape town weather - For Begninners

13.10.2013 admin
I werked*the front door for 2 of the nights and luckily got to see most of the shows for free.
I didn't realize how windy it was outside until I left work and almost got blown away!!! My trainer just confirmed its a pulley system she couldn't remember the exact name of, but she declared them lame! They look like some sort of time warp machinea€¦It's equipment like that that makes me look like a gym idiot when I try to use it!
Based on my super scientific observational studies, it’s usually females who are more naturally flexible than males. Okay, now that we know how flexibility works in a very brief nutshell, let’s talk about the role it plays in athletes and in particular, runners. However, in running, you’re not likely to be going outside of the median range of motion.
So whether or not you're flexible enough to do the splits has no proven effect on your running performance. Well now that you’re all laughing hysterically at my insanely funny jokes about weather, let’s move in to a weekend recap shall we? On Friday night and all day Saturday, I completed the first half of my fitness instructor training course!
Since you asked about whether stretching helps running performance, I have a few studies you may be interested in.In one of the largest studies conducted on the importance of stretching, Dr. Right after work on Friday, Mike and I loaded up the truck and headed to the cabin to meet his dad, sister and her kids.
If you follow me on twitter, I’m sure you saw the shenanigans that occurred Saturday night. On Sunday, my burn pain was in full swing so I spent the morning and afternoon bathed in aloe vera watching the Olympic trials. That night, I painfully put on a sports bra and shirt with sleeves and suffered through our last ball game of the spring season. PMP School Zone is based in Phoenix Arizona and a division of Platinum Marketing Products, a corporate apparel and promotional products company.
As a result of this frustrating experience, and realizing just how badly the schools and families were being taken advantage of, the McDaniel's decided they wanted to help.
We welcome the opportunity to talk with you about your schools uniform program and requirements, and how we can be of service to you.
I've found that ultras have a way of breaking you into little bits and then the effort of finishing builds you back up into a greater person than when you started. I found it hard to accept all the congratulations I was getting from the people I was around because I still haven't come to terms with what has happened. The race started bang on 7am to a countdown of 10 and then off through the cobbled path of the park and into the city. The Athens Marathon would normally be such an forgettable race except that it was a landmark in my own journey as a runner.
Exactly 4 years ago I ran the Berlin Marathon in exactly the same time, and that was a pb and I could not move any more after that. In all long ultras I have done I've experienced "purple patches", pockets of time in a race where running just feels really easy.
I could see what Mark was on about, after 40 miles there are no more industrial estates but a road along the coast. The ancient city of Corinth sits on the 50 mile point of the race and is a massive landmark of the race.
The weather cooled and the route continued through small villages where the children were out in force. There is a carnival atmosphere at the larger checkpoints which are positioned in bars or cafes in villages. On arriving at one such checkpoint I asked for a toilet, only to be told that is was round the corner and downhill quite a bit. It became pitch black quite quickly as I was still running on a gravel path with pot holes. It takes a sadistic race director to decide to put a mountain climb in a race after 100 miles of rolling hills.
On getting out of another chair at the checkpoint I was pointed towards a barely visible path that departed the road. At least this woke me up a bit, having to concentrate of every foot landing as I scrambled up the mountain energised me a little. At the top there is a CP where you are grabbed by a helper, sat down and then covered in blankets.
When doing a race of such magnitude there is little worse than watching someone bound past you like it is no effort. The bottom of the mountain seemed to take too long, the course went back onto the road and still carried on down.
I overtook both the Brazilian and German and wished them luck as I did, now was the time to lavish each other in positive comments and pats on the back. The rain was welcome, at least for me as it reminded of home, however soon after my feet were blistered. I didn't feel like I was going slower but I clearly was, the time between me and the closing times of the checkpoints was getting shorter. I looked down a straight bit of road and thought that it was at least 1.4km to the end of it. Mark said if we jogged then we were about 20 minutes from the end and able to finish before 35 hours. Up the slope I saw people, kids on bikes, runners and support crews all waving and cheering. For the first time in about 10 hours I could relax and start to think about what I was doing and why.
As I limped up the slope towards the statue to roaring support and seeing some people I recognise I was grabbed firmly around both shoulders from behind. His grip was strong and it seemed to last for ages, I turned around to see that it was the Brazillian guy. I crawled up the steps and tasted the metallic rain soaked foot of Leonidas, splattered over the past 13 hours with the sweat and tears of the 102 runners who got there before me. As soon as the ceremonies were over I was taken by the arm by a nurse and escorted to a medical area. I was helped up by Nick and then took the shortest taxi ride of my life, 200m to the hotel. The days passed, the foot got smaller, the right leg started to lift, I caught up on sleep and ate lots.
The events I enjoyed and suffered during the race came spilling out and I could finally stand back and see what I had done. My limited (and I would not have used the word limited before Sparta) experience of ultras is that they can have a way of breaking you into pieces and putting you back together again in a better way than before.
The next few weeks I exchanged war stories and read a lot of race reports from others who have been through the same thing I have.
I'd spend weeks talking to people who had done several Spartathlons with varying levels of success and also some who had attempted it for the first time.
It was a truly amazing race, very well organised and flooded with amazing runners who were a joy to be around.
For the first time as a runner I have found a race which I am sure will one day leave me wrecked by the side of the road and tasting the bitter taste of defeat. Next time more than anything I want to run up that last straight like I was finishing a 10k.
Thankfully, I pre-cut all my veggies and toasted the butternut squash seeds the night before. The next morning I started prepping the turkey with an herb mixture when I realized my parents don’t own a roasting rack that my recipe called for. Once the roasting rack crisis was averted, I threw the turkey in the oven and got to prepping the veggies for roasting and threw those bad boys in the oven too.
23 2015: Zero gravity space station running exercise and storage module at NASA Johnson space center in Houston, TX. She saw a bunch of other dogs jumping in the water at the dog park and decided to jump in at full tilt.
We get the keys this Friday so I’m going to be extremely busy packing up all our stuff. This past weekend, we noticed a few flexibility machines and since we’re 6 years old, we had a mini flexibility competition. We didn’t take a picture of my flexibility level (probably something shameful in the 70s) but Mike was at a 95 degree angle.
The basic idea is that the greater your range of motion, the less likely you are to become injured.
There are tons of movements that for example a goalie would make that require a greater range of motion than the average joe possesses. I have a feeling this has more to do with the release of muscle and tissue adhesion we talked about last week than increased flexibility. I did this quite a few times before and after my half marathon training runs and I felt MUCH better.
As I mentioned before, I was fitted for some saucony shoes that gave me some wicked blood blisters and basically made my feet feel like every single bone was broken.
We were both busy all day Saturday so we had to do our Saturday workout on Sunday in addition to our regular Sunday workout (what??
Hopefully this weather continues and I can find some time to go outside and FINALLY shoot the pictures for my park workout I promised AGES ago. She could NOT keep her front feet under water so her toy would go further and further away from her each time she went to get it.
Thank god my plan calls for strengthen and stretch because I do NOT want to run with a shirt rubbing against my delicate skin. In the fall of 2011 owners Scott & Patty McDaniel had their first experience with school uniforms when their youngest son started at a new prep school. I had spent 15 hours of Saturday battering my brain trying to calculate whether I was going fast enough to finish, working out worst case scenarios or "the point" where I could walk and still finish. I am feeling no joy or satisfaction from what I've done in the past 48 hours, only pain and a fear of not recovering. My last one was after 70 miles of the GUCR this year where I felt like I was flying through the miles. The heat still bearing down but with a slight cool breeze from the Med coming across the running was a bit easier. The cut-off time of 9.30h is quite challenging for many, this represents a decent 50 mile time in it's own right. This is my preference, I can't imagine running for so long and listening to the same person, plus all those around me are foreign and it can be hard to understand exhausted English. There are lots of people (normal people) sat down eating and just watching the spectacle of runners coming in, throwing themselves into a chair and getting "mothered" by the helpers there. I had a small hand torch as well as a head torch to light the dark path, there were lots of pot holes and a landing of just 1 extra inch really hurt. I had managed to run for most of the route so far but was now walking out of checkpoints and stopping sometimes to sit. I sat down on a bed in the medical tent to change and there was a guy who looked out of it lying next to me. It is comforting to have such a safety net, all the drivers are well aware of the condition some of the runners may be in and drive up very slowly, stopping occasionally to cheer.
100 miles marks the end point of what many ultra runners will do, something about a big round number that seems so satisfying.
I was still physically tired but had a brief adrenaline spike that made this task seem easier than I thought it would. He went over the mountain to avoid Argos who were hostile to Athens (and also because he had no need for a new toaster). The path was barely wide enough for one person and I'd often kick rocks as I scrambled up then look back to make sure it didn't hit anyone in the face. I struggled to free an arm to drink a very sugary strong coffee and just spent 5 minutes looking back at what I'd just done. Eventually I arrived at another village and was again smothered by helpers giving me coffee and soup.
Every one would have kids running around asking where I was from, I'd say London and they'd get all excited. I felt the constant need to go to the toilet and would stop every 5 minutes and mostly produce nothing.


I had settled into a group of about 6 others who were shuffling at around the same pace I was. By this time all of them are kitted with chairs and all have runners sat down and covered in blankets. I'm not so stubborn that I'd finish any race whatever happened, risking months of inaction or worse. I'd then covert the kms into miles (with great difficulty, by this time I can't do division but I remember that 10k is 6.2 miles and a half marathon is 21k). I could not think about anything else, my mind was not allowed to wander into the usual silly things that get me through the hard times. I knew it was only a matter of time before my leg would give way and not allow me to run any more.
The difficulty of this race is forgotten over the course of the 12 months since the last time, then after about 80 miles it comes back, "oh yeah, now I remember, Now I'm stuck".
I was still wearing 2 tops and becoming slightly more uncomfortable with the heat but not wanting to part with any clothes as I worried I might get cooler.
I recognised a lot of people as they went past me, we'd shared lots of miles before and now they were in better shape than me and eager to finish. He looked like he was absolutely flying, by far the fastest and most comfortable looking of all those who passed me.
I still could not see the statue but I knew that it was buried under a huge concentration of people. Long races give you lots of time to reflect on things, usually about running but often not. I never thought there was a race out there that could do me over such that I would not want to do it again. I was startled and for a moment thought it could be some crazy person from the crowd, or a policeman apprehending me or worse still a marshall pulling me out of the race.
25 miles and about 8 hours ago I saw him dejected and as far as he was concerned out of the race. I'd watched videos of it in the weeks building up the the event, it was practically pornographic. Some of them were lying on the beds completely motionless, like they had just been pulled out of a plane wreck. I had to use my arms to pick my legs up into the front seat and then out again about 30 seconds later. Either I wanted to just fall asleep and not have to suffer the pain of it any more or I wanted the point of the experience to sink in.
A combination of leg pain and the whirling of the pace calculations was still keeping me awake and making me sweat. The blood gave way to clear urine, the stinging became a tingle and the doctors gave me some drugs or it.
It is normal to feel in pieces during a long race at some stage, feeling like you are not going to finish or you can't finish. People don't just do this once, they do it again and again, putting themselves through all that misery. I never would have guessed ;) That must have been nice not to cool and not to have 15 loads of dishes for 1 meal. A few years ago, I had just started doing yoga consistently for about a month when I invited him to class. For me, I find the more yoga (at home or in studio) and stretching I do, the better I feel when I run. So I’m going to keep stretching and work on putting my hands flat on the ground in a forward bend! I'm going to look into your app recommendation because the older I get, the more I realize I need to get serious about this! My teacher asked me what my background was and I told him I had done Cheerleading for 6 years but ran now.
Last years GUCR I felt some crippling lows which were washed away by euphoric highs before the finish. John T (4th Spartathlon) made a comment that I looked blissfully unaware of what was coming up.
Not only that but "Badwaters", "UTMBs", "Western States", "Hardrocks" and "Trans-US" were just being thrown into conversations without any hesitation or even much acknowledgement from others. I spoke to many people along the way including a couple of British guys in fancy dress who mentioned a race they were training for called "The Sparathlon". I was running close to Peter Leslie Foxall (14th Spartathlon) and Mark Cockbain (4 Spartathons, 4 Badwaters, 1 double Badwater, Trans 333 and more ultras that I've had hot dinners).
It was true, the first miles were not much to look at, it was all on roads though now we were on a quiet one.
It's as if the organisers want to really push people at the start to eliminate those who may intend of running a constant and steady pace for the whole race.
I was however always within sight of others and we would shuffle past each other regularly, usually pausing to say a few words. I signed a few and they all seemed really grateful, there parents just sat in porches smoking and waiting for the sun to go down. I was still trying to resist the mothering at the checkpoints but it is hard to refuse sometimes.
I started to realise that my quads were not going to cope very well with the downhill, something I'm never good at. It reminded me of a race report I read a while back about a runner being followed for 10 miles by a dog.
I was really pleased to finish what was a really difficult race for me and took a lot of positive learning from it, however I realised that in that form I wasn't going to finish the Spartathlon.
It was useful to have the headlights behind me for a few seconds, that was a few seconds I would not have to use the hand torch to light the path and look for pot holes. As soon as I was on the path I was taken aback by a sea of green and red light that lit the place up like a Christmas tree. I wondered how on earth he could scramble up this mountain 2500 years ago without the lighting that I was enjoying.
I got overtaken by about 20 runners on this, I wasn't bothered by the positions but just the fact that my abysmal downhill was being exposed.
I didn't want to contaminate his race with my own suffering so put a brave face on it and didn't really say much. I wasn't too concerned at this point about my pace so long as I felt like I was moving forward. I had not left a replacement at any of the CP's and worried a bit about coping with the sun if it came out like it did the previous day.
With 32 miles left I saw Peter again, I was surprised that I had caught him but he still seemed in good spirits.
If I'd had been feeling like this much earlier on, say before the mountain I may have called it a day and waited for next year.
This often works, like a placebo but didn't in this case, I had something on my left little toe that forced me to run on my left heel. I'd then try to work out what pace I'd have to run at to finish in 36 hours by only using the number of whole hours left (to make things seem worse than they are).
If I was hurting this much before the mountain I would have given up since there was no way I would have been able to walk the rest. There was a hard shoulder for most of it but there was the occasional blind corner and no shoulder which I'd have to cross the road for.
It's about the distance from my house to Ealing Broadway station, a journey I have successfully completed many times, often when stupidly drunk.
I was getting overtaken by lots of runners keen to get the race finished, every single one of them would shout something or slap my back as they passed me. I said I was looking forward to kissing the statue and he said my time would very nearly come to do that.
I was looking over my shoulder again to see if Mark and Nick were there, if they were going to finish they were cutting it fine.
I was glad there were people ahead, for the first time in the race I got worried about getting lost. Inevitably you spend a lot of time trying to justify why it is you are putting yourself through this, what are you getting out of it?
I was trying to think of what it was in the Spartathlon and could not come up with anything.
I watched a German talk him out of his chair (in English) and then both of them head off into the distance. I was in the minority who decided to sit in a chair while my shoes and socks removed, my blisters lanced and then dipped in iodine.
It occurred to me that the level of medical cover in this event wasn't a precaution "just in case" something happened.
Nick would have to hold open the lift doors as I was unable to get in before they started closing. Any dozy moments were quickly met with a feeling of still being in the race, still having to calculate how fast I was going and whether I was going to make it. I struggled though everything, I looked around at the others and am convinced that I was the worst one. Whenever someone came to our table and asked about the race I was pointed out as the one guy who got to kiss the statue.
As soon as I finished my first ultra I was signing up for more, as soon as I crossed the line in the GUCR I said I was going to be back next year. I think you guys will love Annica just as much as I do – and she literally JUST graduated university!
He mastered some advance poses that I couldn’t even imagine contorting my body into in the span of 2 classes. So the more your maximize your range of motion, the more freely you can move your joints without injury.
The Running Room sales people (who are awesomely helpful, by the way)  had 2 shoes that were narrower and came in my giant foot size (cough cough, 11s). I think it definitely plays a role in performance: staying injury free and avoiding tight muscle issues.
He totally blew over the cheerleading comment and apparently expected me to fail miserably since I'm a runner because he was shocked at how well I did with everything! You can read about both hereAs for performance, a few studies have actually shown that stretching (specifically static stretching) decreases performance because it reduces muscle tension and explosive power. I knew from the start that this was going to be the hardest thing I've ever attempted and that more would be between me and the finish line than in anything I have ever started before. Like a happy dog being taken to the vets to be put asleep, stroked and fussed over like a "good boy" before being given an injection.
It was typical for someone's running CV to read "5 Badwaters, 4 Western States, 8 Spartathlons, a Trans US and some other fun runs".
I imagined going back to me 4 years ago and saying at the end of the Berlin Marathon that in a few years I'll carry on running, for nearly 5 more marathons, without stopping.
When your body appears to be working in harmony though I think it's good to take advantage and I did this after 35 miles. There was a rare bridge or bunch of tall trees that I would slow down in to cool down a bit. I suspect it is to clear the busy roads of runners before evening rush hour really kicks in.
I spent some time running near a Japanese and a Korean Lady as well as an older Italian man. This was going to be unlike the GUCR because there was a lot more night time, about 12 hours, from 7 till 7 rather than the 6 hours in England in May. The long shallow downhill is where I realised that the day was going to be much longer than I'd have hoped. They didn't know and almost as they said that he just turned over and vomited, still sleeping.
Afterwards I spoke to someone who was getting to the checkpoints within minutes of the deadline, when getting to this one with minutes to spare he gulped some water and food and raced on, only to stop and be sick. If he carried a flame he would have had only one had to stop himself from falling, or maybe he just ran in the moonlight. As I got out of the chair to start going down a guy scrambled up to the top of the mountain, went off to the side and puked everywhere before holding his hand up and yelling "OK" and then running on. I knew that only about 150 runners would finish this, so long as I was in the top 100 I felt like I was going to make it.
I don't think I let on that I was suffering a bit and I didn't want to either for 2 reasons.


There would later be times in the race where I was on top and people around me were crawling.
I had an idea to swap my head torch for a hat with some kid in one of the towns when it started to get hot. The dehydration of my organs combined with the constant shocks of the impacts combined to shake them into bleeding. We had about 10 hours to make it the to end, Peter was setting off for a brisk walk and confident of making it the the end.
I had no idea how much more running I had in me but wanted to make some more gains on the cut-off before it got to the stage that I had to walk.
There was a stinging sensation whenever I did and I realised that I must have picked up some sort of infection. After arriving at a number (usually around 3mph) I'd then try to work out how fast I was going but by then I'd have forgotten how far it was to the next checkpoint and could not measure this.
One time I would work out that I had hours to go and could probably start walking now, another time I'd think I was going so slow I was going to be caught my the cut-offs for sure. I remember the green cross code as a child but now even getting to the other side of a road seemed like solving a riddle.
On getting to the table and having more coke and water I got the impression that the people there were quite concerned about me. I didn't really know Mark beforehand but I found out this was his third attempt and was going to be his first finish. Then I saw Mark and the tall German guy coming up behind me with enormous smiles on their faces. I looked ahead towards the finish and knew that the end was going to merely be the end of my suffering rather than a moment of elation. Despite the cheering crowds and sight of the finish I was thinking only of lying down and sleeping. Before my eyes I watched a broken man get back up and carry on and now I was going to watch him finish. For years I'd wanted to run in this unique race, for the past few months I thought about having the olive wreath placed on my head, for the past few weeks I thought only of kissing that statue and for the past 15 hours the thing that motivated me the most was just for the hurting to stop.
I'd heard so many stories about runners passing out in the race and being picked up by other supporters or the bus.
I was then taken to the room that I was sharing with Mark and a Polish guy who could not speak English but would nonetheless shout at us quite loud. I'd wake up from the slumber and then get reminded that my legs hurt so much and that I needed a painful piss. Normally I'd feel a great amount of pride, satisfaction, embarrassment and humbled at being revered by such great runners. It was Monday of the Thanksgiving weekend - go figure ;) But yay now I have a roasting rack!
Start living up to our marathon team name ;) On a separate note, you are lucky I was not at your dinner because I would have ate all those chocolate covered strawberries.
If anyone has tips on how to get big waves on a person with a TON of long hair, feel free to share. I think I’m the biggest Olympic nut I know and I am BEYOND excited for the games to start. I was absolutely sure that this was the case in every big challenge that I'd put myself up against.Last night I couldn't sleep.
It was nice to have some familiar faces around.Quite early on I had some stiffness in my groin. I was still near Mark and Peter as a camera van passed me and then started to record me running up the hill.
There is a lot of soup and other home made goodies that the residents provide and often massages too.
Greece has a lot of feral dogs which make a nuisance of themselves but don't cause too much trouble.
I could see at least 3 villages in the distance that I'd run through and that would be alive still with the arrival and departure of others in the race.
I didn't want to make myself feel any worse and I didn't want Peter or anyone else to feel bad for me. Watching the Brazilian guy get out of his chair and walk into the distance for a second brought the issue into sharp focus. The repeated argument in my head went as follows "The more you keep on running now, faster than 4mph the more you can walk near the end, but you are not going to walk because you can still run, so it's irrelevant.
The only positive was that as long as I was thinking about pissing I was not thinking about getting caught, for that was the most miserable and hardest part of the race. I'd sometimes just work it out wrong, sometimes I'd have stopped more and sometimes I just thought the checkpoints were further away than advertised.
I knew I was a couple of hours ahead of the closing times but now they were closing in on me. Despite their speed most of the traffic saw the line of runners shuffling down the highway and would give plenty of space, and honk. On leaving the CP a lady took my arm and helped me down the step to get back onto the road and head for the last checkpoint. Despite overtaking me only 1.5 miles from the end he finished 30 minutes and 33 places ahead of me. I could see how much it meant to him as he practically sprinted the last few meters and kissed that statue. I hadn't seen any of them for a while and for the first time I felt like I was back with people I knew and who knew me (a little). Mark told me about passing out in a lift after his first finish, half in half out with the doors closing on him. I suffered the pain, collected a head piece and felt nothing, not even after 24 hours, not even with everyone congratulating me. I'll leave that up to Mike because I don't feel like getting all scratched to hell if she freaks out in the water. There’s American Olympic trial coverage all week on NBC and that is what my TV will be tuned to.
Despite being close to collapse on more than one occasion during the 35 hours I was plodding towards a statue I could not drift off.
These were both shorter than the Sparathlon, flat and with all the time in the world to complete them.
As soon as I looked it up it became something I had to do, but would need several years to get up to that level. I tried the best I could to not hang around at the checkpoints.I'd been warned that many failures in this race are due to hanging around the checkpoints too much. I decided I was going to hold off on saying "well done" or "keep going" and similar comments until a certain point of the race.
I didn't really need to include this bit in the race report I know, but little lifts like this can help you through.
When faced with a dog you realise how vulnerable you are, I wasn't in a position to fight back or run fast if the thing jumping and growling at my side decided to go for me.
That would be a health and safety hazard waiting to happen, particularly as he had long hair. It was a breathtaking and humbling site to look back and see so much of the course that I'd just struggled over. Vomiting is a norm in this race, you have to eat salty and sugary crap constantly and it can take it's toll on the stomach. There are only 2 ways out of this race, one is kissing a statue and the other is getting bundled onto a bus. I was still walking like I was dragging a ball and chain but at least the ball and chain in my head was gone. Then, right before the end my mind was flipped again by the moment I will take away from this race and remember forever.
The stories of vomiting, hypothermia and collapsing are more common than stories of statue kissing. I was keen on getting out of there, heading home and being thankful for finishing for no other reason than it meaning I didn't have to come back. My body was broken, right foot swollen worse than I have ever seen, right shin felt splintered and broken. This is unremarkable for some of the big hard ultras out there, others can boast better extremes. I resisted the temptation to sit at a bus stop in case people thought I was giving up already.
By the top of the hill I had a stitch but didn't want to stop as I'd look like (more) of an idiot.
I've been told many times in many races to try and minimise times at checkpoints as you end up stiffening up and finding it really hard to get going again. I thought about this a bit, when say during a marathon is it acceptable to say "well done" and "good job" etc?
It took 24 hours to stagger to 100 in Tring whereas I was going to get this done comfortably under 20.
Turning to my right I could then see the course on which I'd yet to struggle, including a treacherous downhill section. I didn't let my sick feeling stop me from eating, to stop eating would guarantee a DNF, to vomit would just be a minor inconvenience. I then saw a German guy who I chatted to a bit kneel beside him (a manoeuvre that must have been hard in itself) and say to him "This time last year I was here and an hour behind where we are now and I walked to the finish. I asked Nick how he got on and he refused to tell me, saying this was my moment now and pointed towards the statue. Badwater is run in a furnace, WS 100 and UTMB have their hills, The GUCR has Milton Keynes.
Over the past 18 months I had got used to being one of the more "experienced" runners in events that I did, today I was a baby.
After some more chatting I said "I'm going to let my youthful exuberance take over" and ran on ahead wishing him luck. For 3 months before the race I suffered a bit from tight achillies which would go away after a few miles. All signs pointed to a good finish, I was a different runner than I was  4 months ago. He said something else which I didn't hear as I was away in my own world trying to get straight how I was going to finish. Somehow I got a kidney infection which required me to get up very frequently and go to the toilet.
However the Spartathlon is unique in enforcing a time limit which eliminates many of the field each year. I knew that these little niggles would go away with a little warm up, like 30 miles.The heat was rising, I was wearing my stupid looking sun hat I got from the Picnic Marathon.
However the single biggest reason not to stop at checkpoints in the Spartathlon is because you just don't have the time.Each checkpoint is furnished with a big board with some numbers on.
I just have to do that twice more, plus a mountain.After 50 the route takes a more sceninc turn and goes through vineyards, still on roads.
Not at all, for 60 miles I ran towards a load of mountains and wondered which one I had to climb. I commented at the start of the race that I was wearing nothing that would identify me as being British, other than just looking like a dickhead. The checkpoint number, how far you have gone, how far to go, distance to the next CP (all in km) and the closing time of that CP. I think with dogs you are just supposed to carry on as you are, don't run towards them or away, don't fear either cos they can smell it.
The route markings though are incredible, sprayed on in permanent orange paint on the road.
There were quite a few sharp downs and ups into villages but it was pretty much all downhill to checkpoint 47 - 97 miles. The hat was actually very very useful, each checkpoint would have a bucket of water with sponges in.
It just shows how important this race is where the markings are made permanent, there are even big lines and crosses on turnings that you are not supposed to take.
I remembered to plaster my body in sun cream which I had forgotten to my cost on the canal in May.



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Comments

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