Too Much Excitement. Days 17-18

Texas day! Up bright and early in a great ol' mood and in border crossing mode. So much so that I forgot some of my morning ablutions and had to call in at a service station on the outskirts of Stark. This normally could have been done without but it gave me the opportunity to meet the best moustache and beard combo I've seen in a long while and its master, Dustin, who happened to run the garage. After doing the necessary I explained my mission and he promptly disappeared inside to furnish me with a Gatorade and a protein bar, to fuel my morning. Lovely gesture and a cool guy. There wasn't long to do much at all before the border was upon us and the Sabine River, spanned by a short bridge proved to be the border. Obligatory photos of signs were taken, before we met Jeremy – founder of the awesomely named Golden Triangle Strutters (If that doesn't want to make you join and run, what does?) who is also a techno wizard, major nice guy and running blogger, who was to join us for a few miles. We vacated the slightly sketchy scene where a smashed up car and some very curious locals who seemed a bit unnerved by our presence nd especially by Jeremy's camera drone and started the run a little further up, where a local church seemed a better place to park less… smashingly. Despite Jeremy's protestations, he kept up a great pace and when we next saw Nads and Jenny, he said his goodbyes for now and we pledged to meet up for round two later that day. It was after this that I started to contemplate just how big Texas is. You can fit 2.86 United Kingdoms in, for starters and it will be almost 900 miles, i.e. longer than Lands End to John o' Groats before I get to Arizona. More importantly though, Dr Pepper was invented here. As I ran and thought, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. A teenage lad (Koda) was owing his family's lawn on a sit-on mower! This was too good to turn down and I attracted his attention and made my way, looking very strange, I imagine over the large expanse of green. I awkwardly explained my overall mission and this recent sub-mission, asking if he could film me on the mower. He was definitely a bit weirded out and said “You better ask him”. In the meantime Koda's dad had stealthily snuck up on me in full camo gear and did not look overly pleased at the scene in front of him. Cue repeating my recent speech and after a bit of a pregnant pause, he flashed a grin. “Sure”. After some basic driving lessons from Koda, I was away. I think I was a natural. I liked it so much, I'd have cut that grass for free.

Texans are very proud people for sure and why not I guess? The Lone Star flag flies everywhere, from churches to gun shops to front porches, but the signs I was really interested in are the little signs of progress, such as entering new counties, from Orange to Harris, different towns and also amusing signs, such as those that are self-deprecating (“Reintarnation – Coming back as a Hillbilly”), to a church sign that was inviting people to come in and catch their Pokemon. In the process of soaking it all in, I ran past Bubba Road and later on, Forrest St. The two fast friends together in SE Texas. I wonder how many people have passed these two places on foot in the same day before – not many I'd guess. Beaumont was our goal today and after running one extremely quick mile (5:40) over another scary bridge (figuring that the less time I have on it, the less likely I am to die), I hooked up again with Jeremy and his currently injured club mate, Ramiro, who accompanied me on foot (and BMX) through downtown Beaumont to Chili's here we were having dinner, with another of the GTS gang, Ana. Beaumont apparently has the world's biggest working fire hydrant, if you were looking for a fact. There you have it. Now the end point today was doubly special as I was meeting up with my old school friend, Paul Duffy, who I used to make bad noises next to in the school orchestra while he played trombone and I hadn't seen for 20 years. He had flown in from San Fran that day to join us for a few days, to check out life on the road and to run some miles. We picked up like it was last week and despite me packing half of the food away into a take away container as my appetite was so suppressed, it was a brilliant bookend to the day. People of Beaumont, get Strutting!

Start: Stark's Truck Stop. Finish: Chili's Beaumont. 34.1 Miles

Paul strapped on his weapons of mile destruction for the first time after a good bit of mutual procrastination. It's amazing how one change in a routine seems to throw everything out – it was like a throwback to my first few days and just like those days, we got our directions wrong as well. The new route we took led us past a building with a load of large satellite dishes outside and after we'd run past it, I decided to go back and be nosey. The building was the HQ for Channel 12 News, which provides news to the Golden Triangle area and the lady on reception seemed to take a particular shine to my accent (as have so many people!) and she was more than happy to pass on my details to the news team. Paul and I moved through town, with me showing off my complete disdain for traffic and safety, which was quite ironic as the only time time we had any issues with a car was when a woman pulled out on us after completely seeing we were crossing, causing me to give her bonnet (hood) a good old slap to let her know that she was out of order. I often see fun stuff at the side of the orad but generally leave it in place. This morning though I magpied a large Mag-Lite which wasn't working, but looked ok. At the very least it'll make a good hammer. We encountered Nads adjacent to a sawmill carpark, which was quiet as she pulled up but greeted us with a choir of circular saws – hugely relaxing. Despite the din, we managed to hear the phone ring and it was Lance Edwards, Channel 12's roving reporter and he was keen to meet us on the road. Lance was a man of his word and after setting off towards China (I know…) he caught up with us almost instantly and we loved him to bits just as quick. Whether it was his warm way, mega-professionalism and confidence or just the fact that he laughed at my jokes, I don't know and we didn't care. We weren't his first rodeo – he'd seen a few weary travellers doing Trans-USA crossings the other way, but I was flattered at being his fastest. Ah the spring in the step of a newbie. I will (have to) reign it in…but a three song medley from the Foos, Foals and David Bowie (Jean Genie is a beauty of a running track) was mostly responsible… We looked forward to seeing the end results and hoped I didn't look too… sweaty/not funny/tired (delete as appropriate).

Paul took a break for the next couple of runs and surprisingly for a San Fran guy decided to come out and brave the “hot one”. We had a walk after lunch to try and make up for some of the morning dally and then put a 7 miler in. After being a bit more pleasant recently, the humidity was back with a vengeance and it was instantly a lot for both of us, though my longer acclimatisation made me suffer less than Paul. He got back to the RV with a couple of shade breaks for a very respectable 16 miles. Not bad for someone who'd done 85 miles on a bike the day before he flew. I'd had a bit of a recurrence of my shin issue from around 18 miles in but managed it ok and when my shuffle player gave me some Dizzee Rascal 4 miles from home, shuffle was disengaged and I had a funky party all the way back to the RV park. I was greeted with a cold Dos Equis and sat down to some huge microwave meals...well...the boxes were. Funky party undone by tiny tricksy dinner. Nads' looked particularly grim which was harsh, seeing as she'd been been bitten on the bum by a huge horse fly that was big enough that we worried it could open the RV door using the handle. A Texas horsefly. You could fit 2.86 UK ones inside it.

Start: Chili's Beaumont. Finish: Cedar Grove RV Park. 37.6 miles

Serious miles through Louisiana. Days 13-16

So it turned out that church car parks are only great for peace and tranquility if they're not near a freight train line and after countless horns blaring all night, I awoke for my kamikaze dash across the Mississippi in a bit of a confused state. Facing potential death though I was quite glad of the inability not to overthink and set off down towards the behemoth that is the Huey P. Looooooooooong Bridge (1792m). The appropriateness of this did not really lead to much amusement and as I approached the bit where the breakdown lane disappeared into a concrete barrier my heart was in my mouth, wondering if I would do the same. “You know where you are? You're in the Jungle baby! You're gonna diiiiie!!!”. I'm not a worrier. Partially this is because I'm an idiot, but mostly because I tend to think things will be alright, most of the time and as long as I'm not there when it isn't, I'll be alright. Despite deciding against filming this dash, the devil on my shoulder caught numerous lorries and trucks fizz past my fortunately short hair as well as a few choice words. I don't know whether this is real fear, but I was certainly more worried than when I jumped out of a plane in Australia. I looked at my watch at one point and saw I was doing 5:45 pace, almost as quick as I race marathons and certainly not a pace I've even skirted on this run. As a reward for Axl getting me over the bridge, I listened to the rest of Appetite for Destruction for the next run. I'm sure he's very grateful.

I continued my amble through the towns of Erwinville, Torbert, Livonia and Lottie, marvelling at the fact that the Great Blue Herons that you see so much of here are not concerned by huge trucks rattling by, but they're off before I can get within 50m of a good photo opportunity! I wonder if this is an aversion to man due to hunting? Sad, if it was. Now I'd sent Nads on a bit further, trying to do longer stints so she gets more of a break and she was already occupied with some laundry. I got the message saying that there as another two mile bridge that was very dangerous ahead. As I had proved my complete invincibility, I wasn't too concerned as I approached what turned out to be a three mile bridge over local wetlands, with again, no safe space. I have found American drivers to be very courteous to people on foot on roads, with only one angry sounding beep so far (From a woman on her phone. WHAT DID SHE USE??), in contrast to their attitude to letting RV's change lanes! I acknowledge I'm being a pain in the proverbial (and occupy myself) by waving to all cars that go past and trying to encourage big-rig drivers to sound their horns and this goes down pretty well. My problem on this bridge was that I hadn't looked after myself again and was just about out of water and starting to feel a bit weak with 5 miles to go. I called Nads to let her know of my impending towel throwing and when confirmation was requested, I decided I had to not let stuff like this beat me and pushed on, to rapturous applause. From Nads. Maybe. I ascended up the ramp to a final hairy bridge of the day and into Krotz Springs before being greeted with energy drinks, a Snapple, an ice lolly and two bags of Skittles. Please don't hate me diabetes god. When we reached our free campsite in a nature preserve (weirdly containing a rifle range) we maxed our generator so much, it conked out, meaning that it was beans (with bacon). Standard beans here have bacon. Vegetarian Beans are stated on the packet. BEANS are for vegetarians! The propane fridge however, meant the beers were still cold.

Start: Mr Lucky S Truck Stop, north of Baton Rouge. Finish: Krotz Springs. 36.1miles

So it turned out the generator had just tripped and after a handy call from Coachnet, we were back in business. I'd had an amazing sleep, it was cooler and I was ready for miles. I've found out there doesn't seem to be much correlation with sleep and how the miles the next day go and after a few miles, it was all a bit of a struggle, but maintainable. The middle part of the day was a strange town called Opelousas, which is so beautiful on the Eastern side, but seems to be divided, with the West pretty run down with may boarded up shops. This sort of thing always makes me sad as I imagine how much someone put into that business, physically, financially and emotionally only to see it fail. I hope they do alright after.

We finished the day in a town called Eunice, which I did extra miles to reach as Eunice Huthart, of Gladiators and later stuntwoman fame would have demanded it of me. She's the sort of Scouse bird (I'm allowed to use that term – it's a term of affection and a birthright) I love. Hard working, cheeky and dead funny. Basically she's boss. I tweeted a photo of the local newspaper post boxes outside house bearing her name, suggesting that they were probably for her fanzine. Went down well, obviously. We stayed in Cajun Camping (Very pretty – still near a trainline.) and glasses were raised to the first 40 mile+ day and Nads braving and mastering the poo pipe at the first attempt.

Start: Krotz Springs. Finish: Eunice. 41.0 miles

Friday was a Tour de Force of Smallville, Lousiana with more miles on the menu. Basile (Not Fawlty), Kinder (No eggs, which was a Surprise), and Reeves (Super, man.) were all along Highway 190, but the one I was excited about getting too was midway in the day. Elton. I had his Greatest Hits on in the preceding miles and I was Still Standing when I got there. This was especially welcome with the issues I'd been having with the blister on the ball of my right foot, which I felt pop as I moved along. I tried to adapt my gait and speed to cater for it and it seemed to be doing alright, for a big blister in that location, but by the time we'd gotten to River Bend RV park, (Them trains...everywhere.) this foot had become quite swollen, hot and the edges of the blister were looking red and nasty. Now there was no obvious infection, but as a recent Trans-USA run had ended due to cellulitis of the foot, I was justifiably concerned. A cabal of doctor friends were assembled and well-meaning advice of rest which had to be ignored was given alongside drugs, elevation, proper dressings and messages of good luck, which I'm sure were given with a degree of concern. My mind was in a tumult as I went to bed, still cooking from bodily repair processes, knowing I was going to wake up too hot or cold at some point – if I ever got asleep.

Start: Eunice. Finish: Reeves: 39.1 miles

As we'd doubled back last night to our resting place and as my morning state of mind was one of trepidation, leading to procrastination, we left later than expected, but probably bang on average departure time so far. Expectations need to be adjusted, or maybe more usefully, we need to make sure they happen, but as I type this now, I already know I should be in bed. There was only one musical accompaniment I was going for today. An absolute Nick Cave marathon (With a Springsteen tune one random as I ran past Bruce Road - Fire, by the way). I kicked off with an 11 mile run, one of the bigger runs I do and we got to the small junction town of Ragley, where after recovering, we headed over to a sea of pink in some woods. It turned out that the local Queens of Pink group, a charity for Breast Cancer Awareness was having their annual pageant and walk in the Purple Heart Memorial Park.We introduced ourselves and asked for their details so we could give them a promote on our Facebook page, but the enthusiastic response we got for this little thing was pretty overwhelming. The accents were queried and explained, Ringo Starr impressions were performed and requests for photos were too numerous to count and, of course, accepted. Ringo never had it this good. Mobile to Santa Monica? That's impossible? Hopefully not, I replied, before showing them a photo of my blister… We were sent away with a couple of T-shirts promoting the cause, one of which I'm wearing now sat in our truck stop for the night and some water, which of course didn't last long in this heat! Double thumbs up to the organisers for putting together what looked like a great event, which deserved to raise a lot of money/awareness. They were very keen to hear about my causes too.

The blister had been well tended to by Nads with double blister plasters and I made a point of socks off the second I got back to the van for fresh ones (Which is a real pain, washing wise) and keeping the foot elevated as best as could. I also followed a real strict regime of eating and hydration, keeping my electrolytes up with SIS electrolyte fizzers. I met up with Nads at the final rest stop before we broke for the day with a growing niggle in my left lateral shin. It wasn't so bad and after the local police had come to check on us (after a local nosy neighbour had expressed concern and harrassed us by parking right behind the RV. Don't say anything, will you?) and were pleasantly surprised by what we were up to, I left Nads to go and set up for the night and toed off , 34 miles in, 7 to go. Fairly soon, the pain in the shin became really unbearable, on impact, not lingering, same with walking and not really sore to the touch. I once again made the call for a possible medivac when I remembered the advice of my physios at the Physio Clinic in Speke, Liverpool who thought that this wasn't shin splints, but a tight cranial tibial muscle and by stretching the crap out of it, I managed to do the last few miles with relative ease (as much as it can be easy after 40 miles), taking a photo of the 10 miles to Texas road sign and finishing 5 short of the border. Striking distance. I was glad I'd pushed through this latest obstacle with a bit of actual thinking, alongside just not giving up. So here, I am in the truck stop with my laptop on charge writing this and not in bed. “Why are you not in the RV?”, I hear you ask. Generator broken again. Don't think it's a trip switch this time...but hey...TEXAS! Goodbye Louisiana, you've been a blast.

Start: Reeves. Finish: Stark's Truck Stop. 41 miles

The Athletes of Baton Rouge Cover All Bases. Day 12

Today felt like a day off as it was going to be exciting. To be honest, I haven't enjoyed as many of the runs as I should have in the last few days. They've all been different and interesting (so far) but the toughness of adapting to the mileage, the diet, the hydration, the weather, the...you get the picture...has created a good few troughs, alongside the peaks. Now it felt like a day off as a result of a good sleep, good food and the knowledge that there was fun to be had outside of running (I know. There is such a thing). My breakfast was supplemented with a handful of gummy bears to avoid the possibility of a rough low-glucose start. My physiological brain tries to convince me that they're not needed, but hey, I like gummy bears. This also coincided with my favourite initial run since the big start and I rewarded myself with a huge Macca's breakfast including milkshake, which volume wise, was a terrible idea. The next run had to be quick as I was meeting Khadevis (see previous blog entry for eulogy, part I) at 1115 and I'd also taken too long to eat. I felt physically pretty rough on the way into the LSU area of town, but I didn't care. After a graciously accepted apology for being late (parking the Death Star), I grilled Khadevis on the LSU program, his athletic career and did some of this during a lap around the LSU track, where I was happy to say I kept pace. He had squatted 600 pounds that morning, having moved away from athletics to lifting, so he was a little off his former pace. He told Nads that I was fast and I'm sure I felt an imaginary pat on the head. I asked for some advice on the run and whilst simple, concentrating on looking after myself and believing in the possible, it was delivered in such a way that I reckon I can get to Santa Monica next week. He might see me at the end – it's the location of his famous former club. He gave me a guided tour of the insane facilities that the LSU college athletes have, ice baths, free smoothies, top class gym and I wished I could have been a part of that once! Maybe it's not too late… I did tip him and his throwing coach, Derek off about a few athletes in Western Athletics, Melbourne they should be taking a look at. Wait for the call guys!

So after this, the slow moving tiny juggernaut rolled on, to our next stop at a garage in the one of the less salubrious parts of town and my lovely relaxing sit down on the grass was cut short by the need to leave a bit quickly after some requests for money got a little persistent. We might have to think, on the safety side of things, about exactly where we park, flashing phones and cameras about. To be honest, it sort of takes the p*** on our part as well to be doing that, so it works both ways, I guess. I ran towards our latest truck stop – Mr Lucky's – no less and in the distance I saw a tell tale sign (I hoped) of panniers and hi-vis that could only mean travelling cyclists! I'd called it right and met Angela and her husband whose name I can pronounce (It sounds like Cajun!), but of course I didn't ask how to spell it...why would you? :D. They were from The Netherlands (Correctly guessed by accent – it can be tricky!) and had cycled from Buffalo, NY and were heading to New Orleans. They were looking for something to do that night, so I told them about my plan to meet Happy's Running Club at Happy's Irish Pub. Simple. Done.

That evening then, I headed into town, once agin driven by the best chauffeur of a tank in the business, Nads to meet the HRC crew. On arrival I was amazed that there were about 100 or so people in attendance and usually there are more, but the heat and probably, news of my impending arrival had put some people off. I really do need to do a kit wash. After a lovely introduction by BobbiJo, we set off onto almost deserted city streets, like an urban parkrun, with police guarding the junctions and we moved through the streets of Baton Rouge, past the State Capitol building and along the banks of the Mississippi before finishing back at the pub. I chatted to a good few characters on the way, with the conversation often getting to the Presidential (loosely used term) Debate of the previous evening. Opinions on that aren't for here though! We then rehydrated with a great stein (!) of Guinness, bought for both me and Nads, by Rusty, a club member before I was cajoled loosely into a club tradition, by Frank, one of the leading fun-meisters, where Baileys is bombed into a half pint of Guinness, after a reading from the Book of Chuck (Norris). At this point, our Dutch pals arrived and stories of dealing with the weather (of course), feral dogs, nutrition and past/future adventures were shared amongst others. With one eye on the time, we had to prise ourselves away again, to stay this time, in the local church car park...but did we sleep peacefully with the angels?

Start: On The Half Shell, Prairieville. Finish: Mr Lucky S Truck Stop, north of Baton Rouge: 27.4 miles, including a bonus 5k with Happy's Running Club, Baton Rouge.