“Running has thrown me into adventures that I otherwise would have missed.”
Benjamin Cheever
Two years ago I hobbled across the finish line of the Liverpool marathon 56 minutes over my target time of 4 hours. A swollen knee at 10 miles had seen off any hope of going under 4 hours. As I sat dejected at the finish line, surrounded by other elated runners, I said I wouldn’t come back to the marathon until I was sure I would finish with the clock still showing 3 hours.
So why then, 2 years later, was I waking up at 5 am and putting on my running shoes to go and run a marathon having done no specific training. The inexhaustible sense of adventure was why. When my friend informed me he had bought a map and had been busy planning a route, it didn’t take much persuading before I agreed to go. 26.2 miles of unseen trails would be my pathway into an adventure.
Our run began in Finham, Coventry and would wind our way south into notorious parts of Warwickshire. There were to be plenty of national trails, canals, rivers and even a couple of castles. Having not planned the route, I was given the freedom of not having to navigate, allowing my mind to wander and unwind, true freedom of running.
Setting off, the road didn’t last long and we were soon running through a cemetery and into an open farmers field. The epitome of countryside in the midlands. Mile after mile of farmland, with a gate or stile every couple of hundred meters. That would be our journey for the first few miles until the village of Stoneleigh, a picturesque little village with a wooden bridge crossing a gentle stream south. The water here would eventually run its way to the river Avon just like we were.
The route out of Stoneleigh was not to be as nice as the one in, and we were soon running alongside the main A road. Sensing my dismay, the weather threw us another curveball in a shower of snow and sleet. I’d just taken my coat off after a bit of sun as well. After more road running, and a quick shortcut through a golf course (dodging rogue golf balls) we were in Kenilworth. A small market town, famed locally for its ruined castle. The Tudor built castle now lies in ruins and is a source of local tourism as it opens its gate to visitors. We would be just running past today as we made our way to the south of the castle, looking for the millennial way public footpath that would lead us into Warwick. The path was a direct 5-mile path into the heart of Warwick, which would be our halfway point. Again it was very much farm field after farm field, but there was a challenging downhill section through some woodland and a run along the outskirts of a shooting range to keep us entertained.
There was a sense of ‘what if’ as we arrived at Warwick via the Grand Union Canal. If Coronavirus guidelines had not prevented it, I was due to run a loop of Warwickshire via the canals, this weekend. 105 miles of running in 4 days. If that plan had gone ahead I would have been running the opposite way down this canal the day before, all be it a lot more tired I imagine.
The halfway point was time to refuel. Usually, a marathon runner would be taking energy gels and sports drinks. I opted for a sausage roll and a cup of tea. The snow had stopped, and the sun was out, but sometimes this can mean extraordinarily little in England as it was still cold.
Full up with a belly full of hot food it was onto the second castle of the day, Warwick Castle. The medieval castle, originally built by William the Conqueror and further developed by many Kings and Earls, is a significant landmark in the local area. I don’t think you can grow up and go to school in Warwickshire without a trip to the castle, due to its role in The War of the Roses. Today the castle still stands tall and proud, overlooking St Nicholas Park and the River Avon.
It was to be along the river we would go next. Snaking its way east to Leamington Spa, there was a footpath parallel. The river path was busy with people enjoying the sun on a bank holiday. Dodging walkers and the occasional bike we continued our run. I was still feeling good as we approached the 15-mile point. The River Avon looked majestic in the sun and it flowed past us calmy. I made a mental note to come back one day and jump in from the bank for a swim.
We left the Avon by joining back onto the canal, where strangely we had to climb up a flight of stairs onto a bridge. The canal crossed the river by going over a bridge!!
Before long we were into Leamington Spa, through another park and out past the leisure centre into the countryside. The miles were picking up now and the legs were starting to feel it. We were back to farmland again and would be for the next 10 miles. It’s nice to run the trails and be away from everything else, but stopping and starting every couple of hundred meters when you’ve already run 20 miles is tough. After 20 miles running stops being fun. It becomes a mental battle to getting it done, getting it finished. That’s not helped when you’re given an excuse to stop over and over again.
The pathway through the farmland continued and we climbed uphill out of Leamington Spa. At the top of the hill, the public footpath was cut off by a metal fence. 10m beyond it was the entrance where the footpath entered the woods. The fence was continuous both left and right and there was no way to cross to continue our route. A large sign, hammered into the ground, informed us that beyond the fence the land now belonged to the HS2, the controversial high-speed train line being built in England. I don’t know enough to give an educated opinion on this, but I’ve seen first hand how beautiful some of these areas are where the line is due to be built, and it’s such a shame that will be lost very soon.
The fencing meant we had to take a mile diversion back down the hill (only to come back up again around the corner). The next few miles were as I remembered them from the previous marathon. Uneventful in the sense that you pay little attention to anything, other than putting one foot in front of the other repeatedly. We were spared a moment of rest when we stopped for ice cream (it’s a sunny bank holiday, it doesn’t matter that it’s 5°c) but quickly continued back to the finish point.
The final mile was back out on the road, literally as we were on a country lane and there was no path. There’s nothing like the added threat of oncoming traffic when your legs are already feeling wobbly. After uneven trails for the past 5 hours, the flat road surface offered my ankles some peace. Neither I nor my mate spoke as we pushed through that last mile to 26.2 miles. You just take in the moment, feeling the sense of accomplishment edging closer, all whilst wishing with every minute you can stop and lie down.
No spectators were lining the streets cheering this time when I finished. No one to hand me a medal and a drink and usher me into the shade. There was a patch of grass in the sunshine next to the park. Families passing without a care in the world about what we had just put ourselves through. Perhaps it’s that right there what running, and the marathon, is about for all of us who are not blessed enough to be professional athletes. Pitting yourself against the odds, only for the satisfaction and self-accomplishment that finishing it brings.
Get Up Go Outside 