Metros Running Club

Metroline Articles

Linda Gaitskell,s amazing race record!

Strange Days

From our out of town correspondents

Salisbury Half and Venice Marathon Reports

Flying the Flag for Metros at the Polar Marathon in Greenland

 

Linda Gaitskell,s amazing race record!

I have run 12 races with Linda Gaitskell this year.

Date Race Time
6 Jan Tadworth 10 mile, 1h 48m – God, do they have hills.
27 Jan Canterbury 10 mile, 1h 42m – Nice sunny day
3 Feb Watford Half Marathon, 2h 19m – Cold or what
10 Feb Stamford 30k, 3h 25m More hills
17 Feb Brighton Half Marathon, 2h 26m – Not our best run.
2 Mar Reading Half Marathon, 2h 24m – Linda finished 9935 out of 11181 Which meant 1236 behind her – not bad.
9 Mar Banbury 15 mile, 2h – Wet and hard narrow course - not easy.
16 Mar Oakley 20 mile, 3h 54m – We don’t cover running in lakes and flood water.
21 Mar Maidenhead 10 mile, 1h 45m – Windy. Nice to see other Metros runners.
20 Mar Kingston 16 mile, 2h 56m – Very early start but nice flat course.
13 Apr London marathon, 5h 25m – Stopped for 4minute interview on Tower Bridge, which wasn’t used. Then hampered by slow runners at 23 miles but she ran fantastically.
11 May Marlow 5mile, 53m – Very hot most runners did slow run.

Not bad so far this year. We’ve got the Wycombe half, Wargrave 10k, Great Wales north and south runs and no doubt lots more. Just think it’s nice to tell the club how hard she has worked this year.

Tony (red devil) Barlow

 

 

Strange Days

By the time you read this, who knows what will have transpired in the world at large and the banking community in particular?

Strange days for sure. They say that “Pride comes before a fall” or the proper quotation “Pride precedeth the fall. Hence did Babylon and Rome reap their vain glory in fiery doom!” Perhaps in a thousand years these times will be considered our downfall? And London will have been added to the list of cities?

This year had indeed being a change of personal direction, after my rejection from the London Marathon yet again, (perhaps more entries for runners and less for the no hoper losers from Big Brother?) my heart wasn’t in the game. I had injured my back last fall digging for victory and was light years behind in preparing my allotment for planting. A chance meeting with a skip on Haste hill full of discarded decking lit my fuse, and after a quick word with the builders my beloved and I were soon ferrying carloads back to the plot.

The wood was put to good use and soon a vegetable garden of repute was constructed.
A limited planting ensued, though sweet corn was high on the list being a favorite of Jan’s and also winning “best in show” at the Eastcote horticultural show last year.
This and a couple of injuries between John and I had led to major downtime in our running. So with limited training and past memories I entered the “Harvest Trail”
What is it with the 21st of September? Every race that’s worth its salt is held on that day, to many to mention (though the “Moor Park 10”& “Quick sands 15” spring to mind) I did feel somewhat guilty not entering the “MP10” having promoted it as a target race. However the “HT” has history. Three years ago I entered the inaugural event, much to my surprise my sister who also does a bit of running decided to join me. You can run either a 10 miler or 10K. It is a true trail run, no numbers and route notes to navigate by.

The start is from a health club, just outside Royston. These facilities provide every thing a competitor or spectator could want, from hot shower to hot meals and a bar. The whole event is very relaxed and one mixes with what ever other else is happing on the day. Cheer leading competitions and rugby spring to mind.

Though this was my Third year and having more or less mastered the Ten mile course, the cautious side of my nature decided to elect for the 10K route. My sister who was training for a half marathon elected to do the 10 miler, having always taken the 10K course for the past two races.

John who had entered the previous races decided to sit this one out, a decision which was to have painful consequences for me.

Having, like everyone else endured a summer of rain, the weekend was a welcoming wall to wall of sunshine. Jan and I traveled up and met with my sister and friends, retro yuppies to a tee but friendly with it. Be dazzled by wall to wall Lycia, I did my best to point out it was going to be a very warm day, but what did I know with 20 years of running? These people ran banks for a living. A last minute change of heart meant that I was now running the 10mile event. I had decided to wear my Trail Running Association vest, I knew it rubbed, but without John I was missing the essential Vaseline (having read that back to myself, it could sound better but you know what I mean?) I decided to run “sans” lubricant.

A lighter moment occurred when lining up at the back with sister and friends, a man also in a TRA vest bounded over and announced that I must know who he was! Having professed my ignorance, he introduced himself as the Chairman of the TRA. We chatted briefly and then the start was sounded.

I had decided to run with my sister to start with, not sure how my body would react to a 10 mile challenging of road course. It is very hilly reminiscent of the Beach Head, so lots of climbing.
The first mile was painfully slow, my sister was struggling from the off. In a show of brotherly love I left her behind and worked my way through the field. It was very hot and the trail was littered with sweating over dressed bodies, though warm and with a chaffing running vest I felt good and pressed on. Once the first couple of miles climbing are out the way and you are up on the downs, the views are stunning. This really is a great race and I was enjoying every minute of it. As yet again I had left my watch at home how many minutes was a matter of debate? I took water on at Five miles (the one and only water station) however it reacted badly and soon found its way back out. At least with knowledge of the route I had a rough idea of my progress, funny how landmarks come round quicker the more familiar you are with course.

At one point I was asked how far it was to the finish, asking for a time check I decided it was roughly Two miles away.

The last part is through an undulating woodland path with exposed tree roots waiting to catch the unwary or tired runner, negotiating this with care I emerged on to the local golf course and my first view of the finish. It is some what deceptive to the unwary as there are still a few hills to climb but before long I was in the home straight and over the finish in a time of 1hour 28minutes. Not quick for a 10 miler but I was more than happy.

“My nipples had taken the brunt of my folly and were somewhat worn away!”

Walking up to Jan, she greeted me with a look of horror. Glancing down, I noticed the front of my vest was stained red with blood. My nipples had taken the brunt of my folly and were somewhat worn away!

A hot shower and quick change saw me back on the finishing line to cheer in my sister in a time of two hours.

We adjourned to a local pub and exchanged experiences with each other and half the pub who had also run in the event.

All in all a great day and highly recommended

David Swan

 

From our out of town correspondents

Now that we live about 2 hours drive away in Bedfordshire I am afraid popping down for a training session is not really an option, much as we miss you all. So we have bitten the bullet and resigned from Metros and asked to be removed from the Metrolines circulation list. (Nothing to do with the fact that your running times seem to be pretty good).
 
It hardly seems like it, but we moved in just before Christmas last year, so at the time of writing this we are fast approaching 1 year in our new house. We have seen nearly all the seasons and at the moment still love it, so that is good news.

“There is no gas in the village, but we are finally mastering the wood burning stove”

There is no gas in the village, but we are finally mastering the wood burning stove, we blame the wood being damp last year rather than our lack of knowledge. We have also just had the central heating worked on plus a new oil boiler, the result is that this winter we should be warm.
 
The one pub in the village reopened with new landlords and is going from strength to strength with good and inexpensive food now being served. We are starting to feel like part of the village when the people say hello with a smile as you enter. Actually we find most people round here say hello with a smile, which is really nice.
 
We have both really enjoyed our time with Metro's, the evening sessions, the weekend sessions, the races, the social events, but mostly of course the very friendly and helpful people including both past and present members.
 
We are both still running and go to Bedford Harriers. It is much like Metros, it meets at an athletics stadium and on a normal training night about 80 to 100+ people turn up!! We felt a bit overwhelmed at first, but once again the people are very friendly, as we have found runners usually are. Their WWW site is pretty good, especially the "Group Schedules" which allows you to see what is happening. I attach the site address in case it gives the Metros WWW team any ideas. http://www.bedfordharriers.co.uk/
 
We are starting to enter a few races again and may well see a few Metros at some of them (nothing too long - the old legs you know). If anyone that knows us is racing (or just visiting) around here, then they are always welcome to look us up.
 
Good luck to you all, we really enjoyed it - bye.
Jill and Dave Girling

 

Salisbury 13th Half Marathon

Sunday 19th October 2008

A lovely day for a run, not too warm and not too cold, my sixth time and it’s a beautiful run up one side of the Aoon Valley and back down the other, it’s almost car free. There is a long uphill at 5 miles and it took its toll on me and slowed my pace a bit. I finished 2 minutes down on last year’s time.

I hope to be at Datchet on 9th November and to meet up with some Metros. I must congratulate Big Al or is it little Al on his great run at the Abingdon Marathon.
Terry Burke

Venice Marathon

I ran the Venice marathon on Sunday 26th October and got across the finishing line suffering badly from cramp in 3hrs59mins29sec.  It was en extremely hot day with clear blue skies.  The route was lovely but hard work running across 15 bridges and in places on cobble stones. 
Best wishes
Gertrud Porter

 

Flying the Flag for Metros at the Polar Marathon in Greenland

On the 21st of October, feeling a bit excited and with some trepidation, I set out from Heathrow to Copenhagen on the way to the Greenland Polar Marathon. After the Dingle Marathon in Ireland in September I had scarcely thought of anything else and I couldn’t quite believe that the moment had finally come.

The plane took off in good time and, on arrival, I managed to negotiate my way to my hotel by train. I was quite pleased with myself as I don’t have the best reputation for finding my way around! At the hotel I met Katie, a lovely girl from Surrey who was going to be my roommate throughout the trip. We hit it off straightaway. Escaping our fairly small and basic room we decided to go and see a bit of Copenhagen. We wrapped up in our woollies and started to head toward the centre of town. After 10 minutes we were both freezing and dashed back to the hotel to put on more clothes. Take two: feeling warmer, though even more hungry, we headed back out again. It was now that awkward time of day when it’s too late to buy lunch but too early to buy dinner. Eventually we found a Costa Coffee and refuelled over a large cappuccino and Danish pastry (which, strangely, the Danes call “Viennese bread”).

We sat back and got to know each other, which included talking about what enticed us to run the polar marathon. Katie was on a 3 month, action-packed sabbatical from work. She had just returned from a holiday in the US, was now heading to Greenland and afterward was going to South America with her boyfriend, who had just left the army, shocked by the horror of combat and losing some of his friends. My story was not so dramatic. However, having signed up to three marathons in 2009, my entire year had revolved around training and scheming how best to rob the bank to finance my hobby. Greenland was always a place that I had wanted to visit, and the thought of being so close now put a smile on my face.

After coffee we walked briskly back through the freezing streets to freshen up for dinner. On the flight over a friendly Danish man had given me an address for an excellent Italian restaurant in Copenhagen. We were soon there, devouring a huge plate of spaghetti and clams, washed down by a compulsory large bottle of water. As we finished, the city was starting to come alive for the evening, with everyone – young and old – apparently well refreshed and full of beans. But as we were flying out early the next day we couldn’t stay out to play.

Back at the hotel we were too excited to get our heads down and ended up talking to the early hours. Soon it was morning and we were off again to the
airport, fuelled by more coffee and Viennese bread. At the airport we met the events rep from 2:09, the company through which we’d booked our trip, along
with other runners and supporters. We were given our race numbers and a short brief on what to expect – and, for me, that’s when the excitement really started. No turning back now; it was all real, and I actually was on my way to fulfil my dreams of the past few months.

The flight to Greenland was about 5 hours and my fellow travellers were a real mix of ages and nationalities, nearly all of whom were flying out to take part in the marathon or support runners there. The largest groups seemed to be from Spain, Italy and France – usually countries up for a fiesta, I thought, and this certainly helped keep our spirits up in the days ahead. The food and service was excellent and I gave into temptation and had a small bottle of Rioja with my lunch, which made me feel very relaxed.

About an hour out from the airport Greenland came into view. We were all mesmerised by the landscape of snow, ice and rock, stretching endlessly into the horizon – and, like excited school kids, we took turns at the windows to snap photos as we came into land. The airport, in Kangerlussuaq on the western coast of Greenland, is an ex-army base left by the Americans after the cold war. From above, it looked nothing more than a sheet of flat ice compared to all the rocky ice around it. On leaving the plane, the cold, chill air literally took my breath away – and, along with my fellow travellers I quickly dashed to the nearby building that would be our home for the next 5 days.

After a talk from the organisers we were told to meet in a marquee behind the hotel which was decked out with fairy lights. Our dinner consisted of barbecued deer and local trout prepared in foil. It was definitely the best fish I’d ever had and went some

way to distracting my attention from the bitter cold, which the space heaters at the end of our tables did little to drive away. After eating our fill we left the marquee looking like a trail of Michelin men, all wrapped up with in hats, gloves and scarves. On looking up, to our amazement the Northern lights were dancing on the horizon ahead. We had been told they didn’t happen very often at that parallel – and everyone fell silent in the magic of the moment. It was a wonderful and happy omen.

The next day we met bright and early to inspect the course. We took off in 4 big landcruisers, all equipped with snow chains to stop them slipping in the snow and ice. We were all chattering and excited to see what the next day had in store. From Kangerlussuaq it was a two hour drive to the start of the course. Or so we were told. After about 2 hours, the cars came to an abrupt halt. Despite the snow chains and our very experienced drivers, the cars were unable to climb to the top of the ice cap where the race was due to start.

Shivering, and now slightly nervous, we disembarked and began to walk the remainder of the route to the top of the ice cap. It took over 20 minutes to get the top. Everyone fell silent, lost in the amazing landscape – and thinking
about what the next day had in store. At that moment, I suspect that everyone shared my thoughts that it all looked a lot harder than we’d expected. We decided to walk some of the cap to inspect our route more fully, but after a mile or so and with snow up to our thighs and knees we turned back to save energy for the next day.

After getting back to the hotel, a number of us decided to get kitted out to test what we’d have to wear the next day. After a couple of takes we decided we needed three layers on the legs and five on top. As well as that, we laid out: walking boots for the ice cap; running shoes to change into after kilometre 5 (after we got off the ice cap); plus all manner of gloves, hats, balaclavas and windbreakers – all quite a performance! After dinner, Katie and I were keen to get to bed early and we re-checked the seemingly endless list of things we needed. We were allowed to leave personal supplies of clothes and food at certain kilometre markers – and I dutifully packed my various bags, leaving my trainers at kilometre 15 and extra clothes, along with assorted jellybabies and nuts at kilometre 30.

I had a fairly restless night’s sleep and woke up far too early with nervous energy running through my body. I decided there was no point in trying to get back to bed and instead sat down to pad up and protect my toes against the route ahead. Like me, everyone was very anxious to get started, but we still faced the long drive to the start line. It was still a beautiful, shining night when we set off – pitch dark save for the stars overhead. It was a surreal but very peaceful moment and I couldn’t help wondering what I’d left myself in for.

Two hours of treacherous driving later we were back on top of the ice cap, where a handful of cheering supporters greeted our arrival. We started more or less as soon as we all out of the car – no time for warming up! It was about -9C, I found out later, and due to get colder. Crossing the start line was a great moment, which we all greeted with a big cheer… though our cheers quickly died when, almost immediately, we hit a big hill – the first of many obstacles that we’d have to navigate.

The top runners disappeared very quickly from my sight, but I was not the only one talking more time. The cold hit my chest, making it hard to breathe and I had no choice but to walk most of the hill. A number of other people were in a similar position. Not a good start! After the 2 kilometre marker we faced a narrow cliff wall, pointing the way to 3 more kilometres on the icecap which we’d have to complete. I stopped for a moment, stunned by the beauty and quietness of it all. I walked gingerly, trying not to look down and putting aside – or, at least, trying to put aside – thoughts of falling down.

On taking my first few steps onto the snow I immediately found myself in a drift up to my knees! I struggled on, one minute wading through snow drifts, the
next trying to stay on my feet on sheet ice that glowed grey, green and blue – and which was probably hundred of years old. Tears of happiness and joy rolled down my face; in the quiet of the morning, and looking out onto the unspoilt landscape, I truly felt I’d gone to heaven and back.

We all struggled on the icecap. There were lots of marshals and three medical teams, pointing the way and doing a great job at keeping us on our feet. The route itself was well marked with red and black danger flags. And, finally, three kilometres later, and totally out of energy, I got to the end of the ice cap and felt rocks under my feet once more. I was extremely hot and tired and proceeded to discard 2 jackets and my windproof hat. I noticed that most people were now changing into their running shoes and, much to my horror, I realised that I’d sent my shoes to kilometre 15 rather than to kilometre 5 as I’d planned. I had no choice but to carry on in my walking books, which were weighed down further with gaiters and spikes, to the next stop.

My legs felt very tired and lifeless, my boots seemingly becoming heavier with each stride. At the 15 kilometre marker it was a blessed relief to get my hands on my shoes, new socks and a handful of jellybabies. I also changed my top layer, which by this stage was partly frozen to my back. Well, I say, I did this… but, in truth, it was really the marshal who took my boots off, laced my trainers and fed me sweets like a baby.

I felt so much lighter with my trainers on and was finally able to get into a good stride. Having purposefully left my watch behind I had no idea what the time was, nor how long I’d been running for. The cut off time for the race was 7 hours. Not a problem normally but a stiff challenge given the difficult conditions. I was going to give it my very best shot, but I had decided the day before that I didn’t want to spend the race worrying about the time and running against the clock. I would just do my best and see where that got me.

I had a good next 5 Ks, but then started to feel very cold and did not manage to get warm again. My teeth were chattering and my hands, which are generally cold at the best of times, were frozen and lifeless. All I wanted to do was to get to the 30 kilometre marker, where I’d left a change of clothes, including a warmer jacket, and some nuts. I was elated to finally get there and also to get a drink of warm juice from the marshals (sounds horrible I know, but it tasted like manna from heaven). The marshal helped me into a warm fleece and a padded jacket, wiped the icicles from my nose, gave me a

hug and told me I was going to be OK. They were truly wonderful people and played a big part in getting us to the finish line.

When I got to the 10 kilometres to go marker I began to truly believe that I was going to make it. The skies had cleared and I consciously woke myself from the rhythm of my breathing to enjoy the magical surroundings. But then, out of
the blue, clouds rolled in and it began to snow, softly at first, but then more and more steadily.

The last 10 kilometres were mostly downhill but became harder as the snow continued to fall. I had no idea at that stage whether I was the last runner or whether there were still people behind me. In total there were only 51 runners doing the full marathon (40 men and 11 women), so most of us ended up running alone. I found this very therapeutic and wouldn’t really have wanted it differently – I was very happy lost in my thoughts and breathing, at times feeling like the 24/7 world I’d left behind didn’t exist and that I was the only person alive.
After a final, killer hill 3 kilometres out, our hotel – and the finish line – came into view. It was a magical moment and I knew I was going to make it. I sprinted to the finish line to be greeted by Katie and two other friends, Rufus and Jamie, along with some of the officials. It was bitterly cold and most people had gone back to the hotel rather than stay and clap the stragglers like me in. I couldn’t blame them! It turned out that I’d finished the course in 6:33:38 – one of the slowest of my marathons by some distance but without a shadow of doubt the most challenging and rewarding.

I limped into the hotel for a hot cup of tea and bite to eat and was greeted by several others like me with tears in their eyes relating their experiences. After calling home, Katie and I joined the Spanish contingent to celebrate. They’d booked a large table in the formal restaurant and I was delighted to discover that the Spanish men had nearly wiped the podium with 1st, 2nd and 4th in the men’s race. Needless to say they full of heart and in top form. After a wonderful dinner we went to the bar, where I bowed out fairly late (and I suspect some of the runners stayed through the rest of the night).

We’d arranged to go on a 3 hour walk with the race organisers the following morning. Everyone was still on a high from the marathon and also looking forward to the gala dinner and award ceremony that evening.

The gala dinner, which was appropriately named, consisted of a superb buffet with lots of meat and wonderful desserts. I also ordered a northern lights coffee – with lots of flaming alcohol – which was made at our table by a very handsome young waiter. We were all happy and sad; the week had gone far too quickly for everyone’s liking. At the awards ceremony, I was truly shocked and humbled when Javier, who had finished second in the men’s race, presented me with his award, saying that I deserved it more than him for completing the race at the age of 66 and battling with the snow and cold for 6 and a half hours. While I was chatting away obliviously, he had arranged for all
the runners to sign the back of the trophy and also presented me with a poem on behalf of them all. I was choked by the emotion of the moment and, after gathering myself, said I couldn’t possibly accept it because he needed to take it home to his wife.

Smiling, he replied that he already had his medal and that his wife had him – and didn’t need anything more!

The polar marathon surpassed all of my expectations. I made some great friends and have already arranged to meet up with some of the Spanish contingent for the Barcelona marathon in March 2010. I’d like to say a big thank you to Jamie, who recorded my finishing moment on his mobile and to Rufus for carrying me from the restaurant to the hotel one night so I would not spoil my killer purple suede shoes. What a gentleman! Huge thanks also to Javier, for his incredible kindness in giving me his second place prize, and to Katie who was a wonderful roommate throughout (and especially for waiting for me in the freezing cold at the finish line).

I am having a bit of a rest now but very soon I’ll be back on the road training for Barcelona on the 7th of March. My eldest sister and her family live there so the pressure to put on a good show is on!

With love and best wishes to all the Metros,

Raquel.

 

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