{"id":117,"date":"2025-10-22T15:10:57","date_gmt":"2025-10-22T15:10:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/ridesstridesandvibes.co.uk\/?page_id=117"},"modified":"2025-11-09T15:19:18","modified_gmt":"2025-11-09T15:19:18","slug":"%f0%9f%8f%83%e2%99%82%ef%b8%8fcoastal-cruelty-the-half-marathon-i-was-tricked-into","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/ridesstridesandvibes.co.uk\/?page_id=117","title":{"rendered":"\ud83c\udfc3\u200d\u2642\ufe0fCoastal Cruelty: The Half Marathon I Was Tricked Into"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

\ud83e\udded Paula\u2019s Passion vs. My Sanity<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Paula loves trail races. She thrives on mud, mystery footing, and the kind of hills that make your lungs file for divorce. Me? I like road running. Flat. Preferably downhill. Ideally with cake at the end. But somehow, I found myself signed up for a half marathon along the Cornish Coastal Path\u2014from Harlyn Bay to Padstow and back. Why? Because Paula.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\ud83d\udcda The Route I Shouldn\u2019t Have Researched<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

I made the rookie mistake of reading the route description. It started on a beach (nice) and quickly escalated to \u201cundulating, rugged coastal cliffs\u201d via Stepper Point and Roundhole Point (not nice). I stopped reading. Just sat there, chin on the table, mentally Googling \u201chow to fake an injury convincingly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\ud83d\ude90 Victor Prepares for Battle<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Saturday. I get home from work to find Paula loading Victor like a woman possessed. She\u2019d already smashed a Parkrun that morning and was now prepping for our overnight stay:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \n
  • Vest bladders<\/strong>: frozen solid (my genius idea\u2014hydration by mile 11 or Tuesday)<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Gels<\/strong>: chillin\u2019 like villains in the cool box<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Mattress<\/strong>: inflated, duvet fluffed, creaky noises fully operational<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Camping chairs<\/strong>: packed for dramatic post-run collapses<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Bubbly<\/strong>: one for luck, one for survival<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Snacks<\/strong>: half for carb-loading, half for panic-eating<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
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    \u2693 Padstow: Harbour Views & Tupperware Missions<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    We wandered Padstow harbour, watching yacht folk sip wine while seagulls plotted pastry theft. Eventually, we parked in St Merryn\u2014outside someone\u2019s house. Our new Airbnb: The Curb<\/em>. Paula sent me on a mission to find a Tupperware container. Not for leftovers. For her midnight pee. Dignity? Gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Dinner was a triumph of shame: deep-fried regret from the local chippy, soaked in vinegar and wrapped in paper. Perfect.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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    \ud83c\udf19 Night Before the Madness<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    We turned in early. I slept surprisingly well\u2014until Paula\u2019s midnight Tupperware moment rocked the van like a budget earthquake. She was trying to \u201caim with dignity.\u201d I was trying not to laugh myself awake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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    \"\"<\/figure>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

    \ud83c\udfde\ufe0f Race Day: 13.1 Miles of Coastal Cruelty<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    Let me paint the picture: A scenic out-and-back half marathon along the Cornish coast. Sounds idyllic, right? Dolphins leaping, birds singing, gentle sea breeze. Lies. All lies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      \n
    • Weather<\/strong>: decent<\/li>\n\n\n\n
    • Rain<\/strong>: dodged (barely)<\/li>\n\n\n\n
    • Views<\/strong>: stunning\u2014when I could lift my head between gasps<\/li>\n\n\n\n
    • Terrain<\/strong>: cliffs disguised as hills, paths disguised as ankle traps<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n\n\n\n

      Every climb was a vertical insult. And the worst part? Knowing I\u2019d have to do it all again on the way back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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      \ud83d\udc10 Paula the Mountain Goat<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

      Paula doesn\u2019t run\u2014she levitates<\/em>. She\u2019s got three gears: fast, faster, and teleportation. While I trudged like a fridge-dragging snail, she floated up cliffs, filming motivational videos and probably knitting a jumper. She waited at the top of each climb, cheering me on like a caffeinated coach with a GoPro.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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      \"\"<\/figure>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
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      \ud83d\udc04 Gorse, Cattle & Cliffside Despair<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

      We climbed stiles, ran through gorse, and passed cows who looked at us like we were unhinged. There were moments\u2014honest, desperate moments\u2014where I considered lying down in the ferns and becoming one with the landscape. But Paula\u2019s voice echoed from the next summit: \u201cYou\u2019ve got this!\u201d<\/em> I\u2019d reach her 20 minutes later, wheezing like a haunted accordion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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      \"\"<\/figure>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
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      \ud83d\udd25 Chafing, Lycra & Lobster Bits<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

      By mile 6, my legs had resigned. My thighs were jelly babies in trail shoes. The path narrowed to single file, with one wrong step meaning \u201cgoodbye ankle, hello air ambulance.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

        \n
      • Lycra undershorts<\/strong>: essential<\/li>\n\n\n\n
      • Anti-chafe cream<\/strong>: applied liberally<\/li>\n\n\n\n
      • Reality<\/strong>: by mile 5, I was waddling like a penguin with sunburn<\/li>\n\n\n\n
      • Pain scale<\/strong>: somewhere between \u201cmild discomfort\u201d and \u201csandpapered by Satan\u201d<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n\n\n\n
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        \"\"<\/figure>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
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        \ud83d\udd25 Chafing, Lycra & Lobster Bits<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

        By mile 6, my legs had resigned. My thighs were jelly babies in trail shoes. The path narrowed to single file, with one wrong step meaning \u201cgoodbye ankle, hello air ambulance.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

          \n
        • Lycra undershorts<\/strong>: essential<\/li>\n\n\n\n
        • Anti-chafe cream<\/strong>: applied liberally<\/li>\n\n\n\n
        • Reality<\/strong>: by mile 5, I was waddling like a penguin with sunburn<\/li>\n\n\n\n
        • Pain scale<\/strong>: somewhere between \u201cmild discomfort\u201d and \u201csandpapered by Satan\u201d<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
          \n

          \ud83d\udcf8 Shame, Survival & Sudocrem<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

          What kept me going?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \n
          1. Paula\u2019s motivational yells from the horizon<\/li>\n\n\n\n
          2. The shame of being filmed crawling like a dehydrated tortoise<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n\n\n\n

            I couldn\u2019t let those Instagram stories win.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

            \ud83c\udfc1 The Finish Line<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

            I did it. 13.1 miles of sheer, scenic hell. I\u2019m alive. Slightly broken. And full of admiration for the elite-level nutters who call this \u201cfun.\u201d You people are not okay. But I respect you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            At 57, I should be doing gentle downhill 5Ks followed by cake. Not this gladiatorial punishment disguised as a \u201cfun run.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u26a0\ufe0f Final Thought<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

            Next time someone says \u201ccoastal path,\u201d I\u2019m throwing them off it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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