Wow, Postal Harriers clearly don't like being caged. After a couple of days rest flying out to the Pacific Coast of America, the finely tuned limbs of YPH were unleashed on the unsuspecting sunbathers on Malibu Beach. Some big numbers have been logged overnight.
Team Pocket to Socket clearly have the smell of revenge in their nostrils, either that or the infamous LA smog is blocking their airways. With memory of their Moscow mauling still fresh in the mind, they have set off at some rate, logging 228 miles on day one. They are, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere. Go check it out for yourself on Google. 228 miles due east of LA and you find yourselves in a series of wide open spaces known as wilderness areas. P2S are in the Palen-McCoy Wilderness Area, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere. I kid you not, no towns on the map. Nothing. Apart from 20+ P2Sers wondering where the hell they are.
Told you it was in the middle of nowhere. Question is, why are P2S trying to drive a car through there? Foot power only P2S!
Team Minster Inn are in the Joshua Tree National Park at 172 miles. Funny coincidence that, the first album I ever bought and on lovely vinyl as well. Still a big fan of U2 and I'll never forget buying a ticket to go and see them in Roundhay Park in the early 90's. It was just after my first lads holiday to Cyprus and we decided to stay all Summer and get a bar job so I sold my U2 ticket. Bar job never happened, I came home after two weeks as planned and sat at home in Brighouse whilst U2 were playing 20 miles down the road.
How beautiful is Joshua Tree National Park? A place where the streets have no name and I'm going for a run, with or without you.
So after one day, P2S hold a lead of over 50 miles. We've been here before. Ultra marathon not a sprint.
You read it right, Jonathan did 32 miles yesterday!
I'm sure some of you took inspiration from the rerun of the 1st ever London Marathon on the BBC yesterday. Back in 1981 there were no fancy trainers or wicking material. The joint winners got round in 2:11:48. I'd take it. Today, as well as being my eldest daughter's 19th birthday, is the anniversary of my 6th marathon in 6 days last year. A monumental slog around the streets of London on the day before the big race. Early in the morning I was sat on one of the distant platforms at York station waiting for the train south. Half asleep I sensed someone stood in front of me. It was DGB, dressed in his finest and on his bike calling by to wish me well. I saw him the day after as well, stopping to take a swig from his pint halfway round the marathon. Loved it. We are Postal Harriers.
The race is on and it's time to get out of the wilderness. Who knows what's out there.
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