I know it was an Executive Coach, because I had to go back outside just to confirm that is indeed what it said on the coachwork. I'm not sure of the criteria regarding what makes a pimped up Sprinter Van into an Executive Coach, but whatever it is, it doesn't extend to the suspension, or legroom. Seduced by the promise of somewhere to put my 6'2" frame and to re-live my youth, the back seat called, and I answered. Moments later, my spine has been crushed and compressed to a pulp. This was the beginning of an adventure. The National Cross Country Championships in London. The motorway service stations were full of runners from all over the country, answering the call to battle. For that is how it felt on that charge up the hill. Quite the most extraordinary experience. 30 seconds before the gun, the starter raises his hand and then silence falls. 
The most erie silence you could imagine, when only moments before, there was chatter and banter, jeering and cheering. Now there was tension and anticipation. And then the gun goes, and you're enveloped in this charging stampede, up the hill, with gladiatorial cheering and hollering from the crowd. The noise is electric, from the runners, the crowd and the sound of almost 2000 pairs of feet thumping the soft turf. I chuckled all the way to the top. This is why I came...now just 11.5K of work to go. And that's another story for later. There is a great video of the start here. 10 hours I endured in that minibus yesterday. I got the biggest running around experience of a lifetime, and the smallest memento...all very much worth it.
