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Race Report – Thoresby 10 Mile Race, Sunday 22nd October 2017

The Thoresby 10 Mile Multi Terrain Race was very much a last minute addition to the 2017 race portfolio. Originally I had been content to concentrate on the Sleaford Duathlon being my main event of the weekend, but it was a call from two of my club mates, Holly and Penny, at GRC to complete a team for the race a week or so before it happened that piqued my interest. The club in 2016 had won the team prize with a relatively modest effort and were keen to repeat the success in 2017. I checked the results online and saw that the individual winning time for the 10 mile race was 1:06 and change. Given that i knew enough about the race that although it was off-road and undulating, it wasn’t that challenging an off road race and in recent weeks I’ve been running 10 miles for fun in under 65 minutes, the lure of a sure fire individual victory and possible team victory proved too great and within minutes of the call out on Facebook, I was signed up and a member of the catchy sounding Grantham Running Club ‘A’ team.

In signing up I’d conveniently forgotten the challenges of this weekend which partly explained why I’d chosen not to race on the Sunday. Not only was I taking part in the Sleaford Duathlon on the Saturday I was working on the United States Grand Prix. Not only was I facing the prospect of finishing after 1am on the Friday night, because they had moved qualifying until later on the Saturday to accommodate, of all things, a Justin TImberlake concert, I was looking a a very late evening’s work – hardly ideal for any race preparation, let alone when I’d already raced in the morning.

And so it was I finished second in the Sleaford Duathlon on less than six hours sleep. I finally finished work on Saturday evening at 2am on the Sunday morning, and so had less than five hours sleep before getting up and blearily getting ready to leave a quiet house, making the coffee as strong as humanly possible without it having an overly devastating laxative effect.

At least the drive to Thoreseby Hall, a little way north of Newark, not too far from Clumber Park, was blissfully easy on a Sunday morning, the loud music in the car being sung along to with much gusto ensuring I stayed awake while driving at least. I arrived an 1 3/4 hours before the start of the race – overkill perhaps, but I do like to ensure preparations aren’t rushed and I don’t have to queue for the essentials such as race number collection and Portaloo inspection. The hardest thing was trying to stay warm. Storm Brian had come and past during Saturday afternoon and evening, what followed was a stiff chilly wind that was something of a shock having enjoyed the balmy 22C at cross country a week earlier. I didn’t want to sit in the car so I changed into my emergency thermals, hat and gloves, and arrived at the conclusion that four layers was just about enough to stay warm.

At around 9:40 I went on my warm up jog of around 1.5 miles. I used the opportunity to check out the start of the course, which was flagged as being amongst the most uneven and potentially boggy in terms of terrain. It was certainly a little rutted, but thankfully not muddy. My Hoka Hoke One Challenger 2 trainers, pair 2 of 4 (!) that were worn for the first time at cross country a week earlier, were perfectly suited to the not particularly challenging off-road terrain. The warm up was very unspectacular, but at least there were no overwhelming aches and pains.

Some of the GRC runners before the Thoresby 10K, 10 Mile, and 5K races. Picture c/o Adam Jacobs.

I wandered around slowly a bit more, finally ditching my clothing in the car to make it to a GRC pre race photo (1 of 2) arranged for ten minutes before the start. I made one last trip to behind a handy tree, before making my way to the start line, placing myself directly at the front with the Canix runners and their dogs, who were wildly excited to the point where it was near impossible to hear yourself think. Thankfully the organisers had the good sense to send the hounds and their owners off on their way a few minutes before our 10:30am departure, so the pre-race briefing could be clearly heard. This briefing did little but leave me more confused as to what the 10 mile runners were actually meant to do, I could do nothing but hope it would be fairly obvious on route.

Lining up at the front before the start of the race.

It was probably rather foolish but all the while I stood on the start line I was utterly confident that I was going to win the race. In my mind, based on the totally fallible reasoning that because last year’s race was won in 1:06, the fastest other runner this year would also run 1:06, I reckoned that I would just need to set of at around 6:10 pace and keep something like that going for a very comfortable multi minute victory.

With the race organiser threatening to repeat the race instructions again to a large audible groan, the race was quickly started. It was a very short dash to the tight first left hand corner before we headed on a rough dirt track on our way to what lied ahead. I was third or fourth into the first corner, before several other runners came shooting past me. Early race over exuberance I reassured myself. After a few hundred meters I saw the lead group split and I made an effort to pass a few who did indeed go off too fast and sat in around fourth position.

As we ran on the slightly rough grass passing a lake, the pace for a few seconds settled. Then a runner in orange visibly picked up the pace and began to pull well clear as we entered the wooded section I ended ventured to on my warm up. From now on it was uncharted territory. Still I was strangely confident as the runner continued to hold his gap with no sign of slowing. Novice who will blow up in a minute or two! I thought to myself as I found myself behind a pair of runners in blue and white vests who both looked familiar, although I couldn’t quite put my finger on why they were so.

Alan Ford, Barnsley Harriers, finished fourth, led early, wasn’t a novice…

We briefly left some woodland and took a right onto another dirt track, slightly uphill but easier underfoot. The first mile clicked over on the Garmin – 5:59. A fair bit quicker than the 6:10 I had envisaged, especially considering it was very much multi-terrain and the second half of the mile slightly uphill. Still I felt sure that the pace would soon ease.

Just before we reached a main road, we turned left into more woodland. We were on a muddy path just wide enough to fit two runners, and heading slightly downhill. With oak tree cover it felt very much like we were in a tunnel, and on an act of impulse i picked up the pace, passing the two similarly clad runners ahead of me and rapidly closed on the orange vested runner in front of us. Without hesitation I passed him as we left the woodland and turned left back onto a path, more gravel like this time – clearly more often used by vehicles.

It was here we dipped sharply down and came across the Brighton Beach stones we had been warned about – placed on the gravel path by the owners of the land presumably to try and stop a flooded path during heavy rainfall. As suggested I veered to the right and took to the narrow grassy bank to avoid the ankle shredding stones. It was here we passed the first of the Canicross runners who had set off minutes before us – the dogs far less enthusiastic and seemingly keener to explore potential rabbit holes than take part in a 10 mile race.

We soon turned right and uphill and into a stiff headwind, which until now we had been mostly sheltered from by woodland. As we did the second mile split appeared on my Garmin – 5:45! This was definitely not in the plan – nearly 30 seconds quicker than the pace I’d envisaged when planning on racing twice in consecutive days. I put it down to the downhill nature of the mile and pushed on. With three runners still on my shoulder it would maybe tactically have made more sense to have tried to get the others to share taking the pace especially into the headwind. But I decided that attack may be the best form of defence and opted to make a concerted effort to keep the lead no matter what. Part of that decision was borne from the nature of the terrain underfoot. With the wide variety of surfaces I wanted to be sure of a good footing, and this was easier if I was at the front, not following someone and paying more attention to not tripping over their heels rather than taking care not to trip over tree roots. What made the decision easier to justify was that after around 2 1/2 miles the three behind me, which soon became just the two similarly attired runners seemingly were around a second or two behind me rather than right on my back, therefore not able to enjoy any slipstream benefits.

Steve Dickens, Rushcliffe Athletics Club

The pattern of the race remained static for the next three miles or so. I stayed at the front, with the two runners giving chase just behind me. We were not alone though, passing a succession of Canicross runners and their dogs, and a fair few marshals still making their way to their posts. Mile 3 was 5:57, 5K passed in just over 18 minutes. Mile 4 was a 5:47, despite having the steepest part of the course to navigate. The excuse for the speed of that mile – there was a lovely gentle downhill stretch on a paved avenue totally covered by trees and offering total protection from the wind.

The fifth mile saw the 10 mile and the 10K race split, the signs and some marshals taking us sharp left through a grassy section in the woodland. Footing was a little tricky here, but was easier when we were guided by the signs to bear right – still on grass, but with the trees wider apart, the going underneath less rutted. This initial diversion for the 10 mile runners was less than a mile before we rejoined the main course. This was more woodland, the going underneath was a mix of grass and muddy tracks, nothing too slippery but you had to pick your path carefully to avoid hitting the really boggy and potentially slippery stuff. As the Garmin hit the fifth mile in 5:49 I wondered what on earth I was doing running at this sort of pace that I’d be pleased at when running on flat smooth tarmac, let alone muddy uneven trails.

As we headed gradually uphill we were warned by numerous signs that the 10 mile runners would be heading left and the 10K runners would be turning right. That should have been straightforward enough. However as I approached the junction there was a brief moment of confusion. The two marshals were standing in my path with their back to me unaware that I was approaching as they enjoyed something that was on one of the two’s smartphone. That wouldn’t have been too much of an issue, but for a split second I saw three alternative routes, a right which I knew I shouldn’t take, a slight left and a sharp left, these two I suddenly got very confused over what was the correct route.

‘Which way should I go?’ I shouted to the marshals. ‘Which race are you doing?’ one of them asked. ‘10 Miles’ I shouted in reply, sensing I didn’t really have time for a calm conversation into where on earth I should be going. ‘Left!’ came the reply. ‘Which left?’ I screamed, as the two blue vested runners closed down the 2 or 3 seconds I had eked out on them and turned left just as one of the marshals clearly pointed with her arm which direction we should take.

It then became patently obvious. The tighter left led us to a fairly wide gravel path, the ever so slightly left was heading into woodland through a path that may or may not have actually been an official path (Although in my defence as I approached it, it definitely looked as though it was). As I thanked the marshals for their attentiveness and prompt action in a manner which may have been slightly politer had it not cost me the lead of the race, I sprung from a dead stop into a rage of pace, as I immediately pulled alongside the two now co-leaders and reasserted my authority over the race taking the lead once again.

Marlon Dunkley, Rushcliffe Athletics Club.

As I retook the lead a moment of levelheadedness hit me at just the right moment when a surge of adrenaline had seen me briefly overexert myself. The temptation was to push really hard up the drag that awaited us to reestablish the 3 or 4 second lead I’d had a minute or so earlier. Instead I knew that the best way to tackle the next mile or so was to revert to the level of effort I’d been making up to five and a half miles, trust that this would be enough to break the elastic with the pair behind me and if it didn’t then they deserved to win.

As we went through the sixth mile in 5:55 with the pair still just a second or so behind, the thought running through my head was the charity fight in Rocky III between Rocky and Hulk Hogan playing the role of Hulk Hogan Thunderlips. This is the fight where Rocky reckoned on a bit of friendly jousting and showboating before being either allowed to win or at least draw in a non-exerting manner. Instead he got pummelled relentlessly by Hulk, who hadn’t read the correct script. It all ended amicably enough, but Rocky was pushed far harder than he had wanted to. This was a bit like I felt now. Thoresby was meant to be a bit of fun, a fairly low key race where I turned up, put on a show at a pace I’m comfortable with in training, win by 3 or 4 minutes and return home with a lovely trophy. Now I’d gone through 10K in a whisker over 36 minutes, working far harder than I’d ever intended, with seemingly no let up in the pressure.

At around 6 1/2 miles the ten mile runners rejoined the main course having looped around to approximately the 3 mile marker on the 10K course. This meant we had some mostly familiar terrain to contend with, starting with the short steep drag which this time around had a good number of runners taking part in the 10K race, which started 15 or so minutes after the 10 mile race. On this little steep climb I didn’t give a full look back, but I glanced over my shoulder and just sensed that perhaps the gap had grown to a couple of seconds. I didn’t look back again for another 3 miles. I pushed on, dodging the 10K runners and then dodging the 10K runners and the slower 10 mile runners. This was a bit like a multi-lap parkrun but on steroids, for this was a race where trophies were at stake rather than a free to enter timed run where the only competition is yourself. With most of the paths, be they gravel, mud, tarmac, or grass, only just wide enough for two lines of runners, picking the right route to pass became crucial, like Outrun, but windier. And colder.

Mile 7 turned out to be the slowest of the race at 6:02, but it featured at least two climbs. Mile 8 was back on the nice avenue and was quicker at 5:48. This section saw the second moment of confusion with marshals. They were handling the first section where 10 mile and 10K runners split. As they saw my number they pointed me in the direction of the 10 mile loop. I was pretty sure from the pre-race briefing we were meant to follow the 10K signs on the second lap so I began shouting ‘TEN MILE RACE! LEADER! SECOND LAP!’ I think I said this two or three times before the hand arrows changed from pointing left to right. This section of virgin territory for the 10 mile runners was on grass again but easier than the 10 mile loop. The ninth mile saw the 10 mile and 10K runners rejoin and then split again. The traffic was becoming a real issue as this was the muddy, sometimes boggy section, with sometimes only one clear defined path, and I was having to get quite audible (e.g. Coming through on the left! or coming down the middle!) to ensure that I didn’t end up careering into the back of someone. I thanked those who made space, had sympathy for those who were clearly new to racing and weren’t expecting to be overtaken in such a manner, and scorned those who were wearing headphones and were oblivious to anything and everything around them.

One of the two marshals at the second 10 mile / 10K split, tried to send me on another loop of the race. The other marshal recognised me as the f***er who spoiled their Youtube video or whatever it they were watching and sent me the right way with a comment in passing that I don’t believe was entirely complimentary. A lot calmer than I was 20 minutes or so earlier I gave a cheery wave and pushed on.

As we left the woodland and appeared to run through what may have been a farm yard or a forestry base, the path widened significantly and curved to the right before taking a sharp left. It was here I afforded myself the first big look back since the 6 mile marker. I saw two runners, but they were definitely two slower 10K runners and no the boys in blue chasing me down. I reckoned that even if they were just around the corner out of view I had at least a fifteen second lead, and with just over a mile remaining, victory was now mine barring some kind of disaster, such as heading the wrong way.

The ninth mile was a 5:49. The brain wasn’t working too well, but with the stopwatch still not showing 53 minutes it was obvious I was going a fair bit quicker than 1:02 pace. The last mile initially was a long mostly downhill stretch on a single track road, which would have been lightning fast were it not for the strong cross wind on exposed land that threatened at times to blow us off the road. Thankfully the road headed back into woodland as we approached Thoresby Hall and the finish. I took one last long behind me and to my relief saw no-one in view. I began passing loads of runners now, Canicross runners, 10K runners and I think some 5K runners too. It was quite unlike any other race finish, except for loads of parkrun finishes and the Rockingham Duathlon, which had runners in different races finishing at the same time.

Coming into the finish, chased by a dog.

There was a good crowd coming into the finish, but none were cheering. The finish chute marshal seemed unsure whether to send me to the finish or to send who on earth knows where. With the Garmin approaching 10 miles I knew to take a left and begin a mini sprint to the finish. The spectators and the race official appeared a little bemused when I raised my hands when crossing the finish line, why was I celebrating a 52 minute 10K? they appeared to wonder.

I decided to tell him that I was the winner of the ten mile race, around about the same time as his colleague in the chip timing van tapped him on the shoulder to tell him I was the race winner of the ten mile race. Word soon got around and it was announced a few moments later that the winner of the ten mile race had crossed the line. A belated round of applause followed, which was then followed by a big hug from friend and club mate SJ, who was on massage duty.

I looked at my Garmin – 58:25 for 9.99 miles! Not an officially measured 10 mile course but clearly not far off it – multi terrain, windy, tired, third fastest 10 mile race time! A few moments later (41 seconds to be precise) the second placed finisher crossed the line and the third followed suit 13 seconds later. I went back to congratulate them. The third placed finisher I recognised instantly, Marlon was the Rushcliffe AC runner who narrowly beat me in the Holme Pierrepont 10K back in the summer. The second placed runner I’d definitely recognised but at the time couldn’t quite place him. It was only when I got home and stalked followed Steve on Strava and checked his Power of 10 that I sussed out that he was the Rushcliffe AC runner who finished third at my club’s Summer Solstice 10K in an ever so slightly faster than I’ve ever run before 34:02. They congratulated me on my strong run, pointing out that they both rarely run further than 10K, so simply ran out of steam not long after that point in the race.

Me & Marlon back in July

I was already happy to win; now I was even happier that I’d beaten runners who had beaten me over the summer. Had I known beforehand that they were racing I doubt I would have run with the same confidence I did. I had considered it my race to lose, little did I know I had to work as hard as I did to win.

We had to wait an eternity for the prize giving to take place. This was not ideal as I had work in the afternoon that would stretch until the early hours of the morning and had an early getaway for a short half term break planned the following morning. Finally the prizes were presented. i was the recipient of a rather underwhelming trophy, but the winner of a rather snazzy bobble hat. They didn’t have club colours so I settled for the colours of Austria for reasons unknown.

The podium (L to R): Marlon Dunkley, Rushcliffe Athletics Club, third; Matthew Kingston-Lee, Grantham Running Club, race winner; Steve Dickens, Rushcliffe Athletics Club, second.

The main reason I had entered the race was to complete Grantham Running Club ‘A’. My teammates and I nervously waited, hoping that my winning time and Holly’s podium finish could ensure victory. Alas the telltale blue sweatshirt of a third Rushcliffe AC runner should have been a clue that they anticipated a team victory. And indeed they did with a pretty impressive 3:01:48 for the three strong team, just a minute slower than our own club winning 10K team! I had to settle for second in the team competition, a mere 30 minutes behind Rushcliffe. I did though get to accept the 10K team prize on their behalf as they were nowhere to be seen!

With the Team 10K Prize (Not a member, collecting on their behalf).

With that, the race was over and done and there was nothing left to do but drive home. My second multi-terrain victory and definitely the more satisfying in the manner in which it was won. Off now on holiday and prepare for next week’s race!

 

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Race Report – Sleaford Tri3 Birthday Duathlon, Heckington, Saturday 21st October 2017

I’ve only raced one Duathlon this year, since then I have really prioritised running and had some fun with time trialling. I’d not yet committed to returning to Rockingham for their Duathlon, but with that in mind, the opportunity to take part in a local, low key race was too tempting to ignore.

Sleaford Tri3 club are celebrating their their fourth birthday and to celebrate they were hosting a Duathlon, with the promise of free food and cake to follow. Sounded good. I held off entry to the very last minute; Storm Brian was coming across the country bringing with it the promise of some very strong winds. The prospect of being battered by winds on the Lincolnshire fens didn’t appeal; it was only when the forecast shifted somewhat, so that the strongest winds would arrive in the afternoon, did I commit to entering.

Joining me at the race was my time trialling nemesis Stpehen Hobday. We time trialled together at the opening Witham Wheelers 2-Up, where he carried me the entire way. I’ve got better over the course of the year since then, but he is at least two minutes quicker than me over a 25 mile course. His running continues to improve, but I had the comfort of knowing that over 5K I was at least 90 seconds quicker than him at our bests. Given that the Duathlon comprised a 5K run, a 40K bike and a 2.5K run to conclude, the prospect of an equally matched race was the stuff of much pre-race conjecture.

Not getting enough sleep thanks to an early morning finish working on the US GP at Austin, I arrived at Heckington a little later than planned with Stephen. Badly prepared, I was lucky that Stephen had a spare number belt for me and that the organisers did not insist on showing our race licences, as neither of us had ours on us. By the time I’d racked the bike, got changed and as ready as I could be, listened to the briefing and visited the loo, there was less than five minutes to the start. Normally I like at the very least a mile of running warm up – I got just two minutes.

Knowing that I was planning to race the Thoresby 10 mile race the next day, I knew that my game plan had to change somewhat, with compromises needing to be made. Rather than go flat out hard on the opening 5K, I would have to easy myself in as best I could. With around 40 taking part over the sprint and standard distances, we set off at 9:30am, the stiff wind blowing us along the opening half of the 5K run. I briefly sat in second place before taking the lead, with Stephen and another runner on my tail. I was running well within myself, clocking the first mile in 5:45, not that quick considering the tailwind and it being slightly downhill for the opening half mile.

Over the remainder of the run I was able to eek out a gap over Stephen and the other runner, but I knew it was nowhere near as much as it needed to be. The second mile was 5:56 and the third 6:01 as I battled with the headwind and the effects of not warming up properly. I ran the opening 5K in a relatively pedestrian 18:54. Transition was trouble free; I didn’t have time to elastic band the cycle shoes to the pedals so lost a few seconds putting them on, but I was soon into my cycling.

Perhaps thanks to the strengthening wind blowing me along, perhaps the new bargain Huub tri suit that I was wearing for the first time, but the cycle legs felt good from the off. Staying on the bike was proving much harder though with a  gusting rear side crosswind making it extremely difficult to stay on the road. For the opening section I had to ignore the TT bars and hold on to the handlebars for dear life. Stephen came steaming past benefiting from being able to be in a TT position, and revelling in his rear disc wheel excelling in the winds (I hadn’t time in the morning to fit mine).

Knowing he’d past so soon meant that realistically the race was over. All I could do was try and hold onto him as best as possible, knowing that drafting was illegal, and perhaps hope that he’d pushed too hard on the run or that his new TT position that he was racing with for the first time, would prove to be too painful to hold. This though proved to be wishful thinking as he slowly but inexorably pulled away. We both enjoyed the run to North Kyme, the precursor to Storm Brian pushing us along at 32mph with barely any effort. We were both held up briefly by some inopportune roadwork traffic lights, but we were soon back into our own riding.

The two lap course meant that we would be faced with some headwind for part of the course. I was pleased that in my TT position I was able to maintain a relatively good pace. The second lap saw me once again nearly blown off my bike approaching a junction where the gusts were being whipped and funnelled into differing directions, making it really hard to hold onto the bike. By now I’d decided that survival was the best course of action with a healthy gap behind me and an insurmountable gap ahead. On the second lap I was held up for 70 seconds at the traffic lights, but even then I could see no one behind me. Knowing that this delay would be factored into our times, I relaxed and headed back towards the finish, happy that my NP watts of just under 240 was pretty much spot on what I had hoped to be riding. The average speed of 21.9 mph was also one of my best for a Duathlon bike leg.

There was a brief moment of pain when I tried to loosen my bike shoes before the second transition, the left hip briefly going into spasm. Fortunately nothing came of it and another smooth transition saw me off and running, attempting to close on Stephen. That we crossed paths on the out and back course well before I turned around confirmed that, although he was running fairly slowly, he wasn’t going to be caught. I pushed relatively hard, mainly as preparation for Rockingham, clocking 5:42 for the first mile and averaging 5:50 for the slight uphill drag to the finish.

I came home second. Stephen was a deserving winner. I was around 45 seconds quicker on the second run. I finished 1 minute 50 seconds behind him. It was probable that even if I’d run my quickest on the opening 5K run, he would have just had the better of me. At the time I was relieved to have survived the bike leg intact and with legs that felt like they hadn’t been overly taxed.

After a warm down and some cake and presentations, it was time to head home, back to work, and to prepare for Thoresby in less than 24 hours time.

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Race Report – North Midlands Cross Country League, Race 1, Markeaton Park, Derby – Saturday 14th October 2017.

I Hate Cross Country… But We’ve Got Ourselves In A New League!

Around 10 years ago, as part of my role as writing the newsletter for my running club Kenilworth Runners, I wrote a series of articles over a couple of years beginning with I Hate Cross Country… But I Am Willing To Give It Another Try. In that humorous series I reported on my less than stellar efforts at representing my club in the Birmingham League Cross Country series. Despite my inability to perform as to the standard I had on the road, I was proud to be part of a team that punched well above their weight, culminating with an overall position well inside the top ten of the First Division before I left Coventry in 2013, taking part in one last Birmingham League XC Race in January 2014 at Coundon Park, where I was seventh counter for the team.

In the next three years ten months I took part in just one Cross Country Race – the National Cross Country Championships at Donington Park in 2016, the penultimate time I wore a Kenilworth Runners vest before becoming a first claim member of Grantham Running Club a couple of months later. Being second claim Grantham Running Club in the intervening years meant I couldn’t take part in the Lincolnshire Cross Country League that my current club is a member of. To be honest I wasn’t that heartbroken, the league is a pail shadow of the quality you see race in race out in Birmingham League in terms of quantity and quality and, with four races compacted into just over a month (Plus on a Sunday morning), it is over before you really get into your running.

For a couple of years I’ve pushed my club into considering joining another cross country league and finally for 2017 it was decided we would enter the North Midlands Cross Country League as well as Lincolnshire League. With races on a more traditional Saturday afternoon and with over four times as many people racing as normally found in Lincolnshire races, my appetite was whetted to don the club vest and dig out the old spikes and Walshes (Just in case it was dry) and head to round one at Markeaton Park in Derby.

Arriving with plenty of time to spare, I was able to enjoy the traditional spirit of cross country that keeps it thriving among grass root athletics (The number of clubs joining leagues is increasing apparently, despite the success of rival events such as parkrun). Junior runners were sent on their way, all heading off far too fast; some paying the penalty, the good ones staying strong to the end. I got ready to race, jogging a small part next to the course where I decided that with the very firm conditions underfoot, I would eschew both spikes and my Walsh trail shoes to wear my Hoka Hoka One trail shoes, which are basically road trainers with a slightly more grippy tread. What with the balmy conditions seeing car thermometers nudge 22C, this felt much unlike any wet, cold and miserable cross country race I’d ever take taken part in. Indeed only the Holme Pierrepont 10 Mile race this year was warmer than this one in the races I’ve taken part in.

I saw our ladies head off at the start then went about my final preparations, lining up 25 minutes or so later for a race that finally went off a few minutes late at 2pm. As usual there was the charge for the first corner, made worse by the number of keen young runners from University teams. For the first time I was taking part in a separate Veterans league, so although I was keeping an eye on my overall standing in the race, I was keen to keep those of a similar age to me behind.

As I prefer to do I made a steady start, probably outside of the top 100 in the first few minutes of the race. Although initially frustrated by the crowding on the course, it wasn’t long before the field began to thin out and I proceeded to make by attack from the back and pick off those who went out a little too keenly.

Slow and steady start on lap one of the race.

Firm underfoot and mostly flat, there was however one steep climb and one less steep rise immediately after on a switchback on the back of the course before heading back to complete one of three laps in total. This section was the only bit with any real mud, although there was no difficulty in keeping a good footing. Although I hate the hills, I do seem to be fairly strong on them, whether the 7th place of all time on the Switchback Strava Segment is genuine or a quirk of GPS inaccuracy I don’t know, but whatever I continued to make up places while not straining myself too much.

Keeping the younger ones behind me

The approximately 10K race continued without incident, nor much of a slowing up in my pace which hovered just under six minute miles for most of the race. I was able to catch and pass everyone I caught up with until the final runner as we entered the closing few hundred meters. He stubbornly stayed just in front of me and when I tested him with a faux sprint finish in the closing meters, he showed he had plenty of gas to spare if I dared to try and force my way past.

So I finished 44th overall and top ten in the Veterans’ race, which ranks among my best ever efforts for cross country. A good day out and about as much as I’ll ever get to enjoying cross country. I hope and pray it is as dry and warm for my next venture, which should be in December, but somehow I doubt it!

Grantham Running Club competitors.
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Race Report – Robin Hood Half Marathon, Nottingham, Sunday 24th September 2017

This report comes over a month after the event. This is because I only recently found out where I finished…. More of that later. The reality too is that the race was less interesting than the training that preceded it, so forgive me if this is a little heavy on preparation and a little light on race action.

Mentally enthused after success at Thorney in August, I visioned a good month of training before the end of September race in Nottingham. I had no races planned, other than the club handicap 10K which, on a lumpy course, I ran at marathon heart rate in 36 and a half minutes. Although there were the odd exceptions, the training focused on big efforts over the weekend with easier paced running and cycling during the week. The Saturday in particular became the focal point of the week – the first two of them of them I competed a ten mile ‘straight outta bed’ run which averaged something pretty close to sub six minute miles. The  following week I ran Melton Mowbray parkrun in a slightly disappointing 17:28, but the following Saturday, straight out of bed once again, I kicked off with some Stravalek intense effort before running around six minute miles until seven miles, when I ran Belton House parkrun in 17:30, closing the run with five K in something close to 18 minutes again. It all felt very easy as I ran a half marathon with minimal interruption and effort in 1 hour 19 minutes.

What made me even more enthused is that for all the straight outta bed runs on the Saturday I backed that up with a run of at least 13 miles at 6:40 pace or quicker. I felt like I was running into the sort of form I had when I bagged the 1:14 at the Grunty Fen Half Marathon at the same time of year two years previous.

And then just like two years ago and last year, four or five days before the half marathon I came down with the first of the winter colds the kids brought home with them from school. To feeling fantastic to feeling lousy in no time at all. Just like last year the worst of the cold had past come race day but I wasn’t feeling by any means fantastic.

As I’d been burnt before by the pre-race traffic jams, like last year I arrived over two hours before the start of the race to ensure a good easy parking slot. I took a little walk around the race village, laughed at the insanely high prices of goods on Sale at the Sweatshop tent, used the toilets a couple of times and went for a one and a half mile warm up along the Trent which was wholly unremarkable except for a very pleasant calf stretch which rid me of the niggly Achilles discomfort for the entirety of the race.

Grantham Running Club members taking part in the Robin Hood Half and Full Marathon . Photo courtesy of Stuart Cresswell.

A little fortuitously I bumped into my fellow GRC runners who were having a pre-race photo, and I was able to dive in for one last pic. With that done I returned to my car to have one last swill of drink before making my way to the start. I lined up just behind the elites, of which there appeared to be just two or three – a little disappointing for a race which has the subtitle of the British Half Marathon Championships. I didn’t spot upon the eventual race winner Chris Thompson, who brought a bit of quality to the race as a bonafide worthy recipient of National Half Marathon Champion.

The start was the usual affair of some trying to go off at a steady but brisk pace while those around me either shot off and all around at a pace that would never be sustainable or went so slowly as to strongly suggest they had no place standing so close to the start. The opening few hundred meters are in the heavy shade of tree cover on the Victoria Embankment, it wasn’t long before we turned left onto a wide main road and I could assess the race situation and settle into the run.

In the first mile I closed on and passed the eventual women’s winner Emily Waugh, who looked serene running at 1:16 pace. The Dubai based runner (I soon followed her on Strava) was running with her Rugby & Northampton AC team mate, who shortly after the opening mile (5:42) cruised alongside and past me, wishing me well as he did. He would be the only runner who passed me.

The opening mile and a half is pleasant enough, but as in 2016 it wasn’t long before we were sent off the path of the old course and up past the castle. By no means a savage climb it is nevertheless steep enough to undo all the good work in the opening mile. The second mile was a 5:57 (5:38 on Strava GAP). The next mile and a bit must rank as some of the least satisfying in city marathon history. Of all the comments I read on Strava they all described this section in less than complimentary tones. Rhythm sapping is the most polite I can call it, something like a road based version of a twisty, hilly cross country course, as we tackled numerous short sharp climbs punctuated with sharp descents and tight bends. The course was the same as last year, I had blocked out how bad it is. That said, I fared better than others and picked off a fair few runners en route to a 6:03 mile (5:33 GAP) and an 18:27 first 5K.

As if to apologise for the twists and hills of the past mile and a half, the fourth mile is a mostly flat, fast downhill drop to the University campus. I pulled up to another runner and sat briefly in his shelter before pulling past and clear as the road flattened. A 5:30 fourth mile was followed by a 5:42 fifth mile as the field really thinned out and all I had for company were the odd runner somewhere far in the distance and, it must be said, really good crowd support as they enjoyed the great weather conditions for spectating.

The sixth mile (5:50) was literally a long drag, somewhat spirit crushing as I made my way to and into Wollaton Park and the big hill that I had managed to forget about running last year. I went to take a drink from the pouches handed out, cursing loudly at the uselessness of them as I battled in vain to get any more than a dribble from them. The hill comes after a tight left hand bend, the crowd that lined either side of the climb very reminiscent of cycle fans clamouring to see the suffering on a tough climb. I dug in deep and made my way to the top, happy in the knowledge that, for the most part, the course is much easier in the second half. What was less happy was my stomach, which was rueing the too long queues for the portaloos before the start of the race and beginning to send some ominous distress signals.

I went through 10K in 36:14, laughing again at how the gates for the park exit had again not been opened, forcing us off the path and over some heavily rutted ground thanks to an abundance of tree roots. At least the seventh mile marker was somewhere near accurate – once again the fifth and sixth mile markers were so far out as to be totally useless. For a big city race to not correct on obvious mistakes from the previous year is not acceptable really.

Back on the open road and the seventh mile covered in 5:52, I tried to push on like I did last year. It was made tougher because of the dodgy tummy and the lack of runners to run with (Last year – I got into several useful trains which helped keep the pace ticking). I was though closing and passing runners which kept the incentive to keep pushing high. Mile 8 was 5:37 and now we were running alongside runners heading in the other direction, which I always find inspiring. Mile 9, back through the University and an awkward out and back via a tight hairpin, was a 5:44. I passed a Strava ‘friend’ Craig Taylor, who beat me at the Rockingham Duathlon last year. He would go on to run just under 1:18. Interestingly at the Great Eastern Half a couple of weeks later, he ran 1:14:30 or so. Food for thought as to how slow this course is and what I could do on a quicker course.

The tenth mile has the penultimate drag of the race, I survived that with a 5:45. The last comes when we rejoin the old course. My stomach was at its worse and I went through a little bad patch, but managed to drag out a 5:50. I don’t remember this section last year, but we were pulled off the main road down some quite residential streets to make our way back to Victoria Embankment. Passing another couple of runners as we continued to twist and turn, the twelfth mile was a pleasing 5:36.

The first half of the final mile saw me being inadvertently paced by a car that had found itself on the closed roads (I think it was being guided by an official car out of harms way). I found myself almost on its bumper before it thankfully pulled off the road I was on. Coming into the final stages, like last year, I was reeling in another runner. With the memory that last year I passed the moved up into the third V40 spot with my final overtake, I kept pushing. The last mile was slow at 5:50, but the lure of another position saw me run the final stage of the race (0.3 mile on my Garmin) at 5:15 pace. I left it late but a sprint on the final straight saw me pass the runner who put up no resistance.

I finished in 1:16:43. This is 13 seconds down on 2016,but given the paucity of runners to race with, in many ways it felt a better performance. I rushed through the post race medal and goody bag collection as quickly as possible to find the nearest portaloo. With the relief of a calm tummy I managed a mile warm down. The legs felt good, a sign that perhaps, with less of a tummy issue especially I could have gone quicker.

Knowing that the traffic out of the race can be a nightmare, I didn’t hang around and left not long after my warm down. Later that evening provisional results were posted on the Nottingham Post website. Pleasingly I was twelfth, much higher than in 2016 with a slightly slower time. My suspicions that plenty had shunned the race, either due to the new course, or because no details of any prizes had been forthcoming, were borne out.

A day or two later the provisional results were posted on the website. It confirmed me as twelfth and had me as second V40. I was happy with this, one place better than last year. I also noted that the first V40, Alastair Watson, not only finished over eight minutes ahead of me, he finished the race third overall. I know my races well enough these days that normally if Vet runner finishes in an overall prize giving position, the Vet place rolls down to the next runner. I looked forward to receiving my prize!

Three weeks later and with no confirmation of any prize, I emailed the organisers to clarify the prize structure (Still not made available) and the prize winners. I was swiftly emailed back to be told the results were hopefully going to be made official in the next few days due to issues. A week later the official results were finally posted in Athletics Weekly, complete with fairly damning criticism of the time taken to produce results for a race which was called the National Half Marathon Championships, and a race which still had no team results.

Another week later and I was beginning to give up hope of seeing any prize, when an anonymous looking envelope appeared in the post. Thinking it may be a race number, I opened it immediately to find a letter from the Robin Hood Half Marathon explaining I’d received a prize, with a hand written 1st, V40, scrawled unceremoniously on it. Attached to the letter was a cheque, made out to me for £100! So the longest wait for a prize was kind of worth it as it was the most I’ve received for my efforts.

That said, my patience with the Robin Hood race I think has worn a little too thin. I don’t like the course, it’s not quick, and the length of time to produce results is not good enough (Plus the lack of any details of what the prizes would be). Chances are though, depending on my calendar, I will probably be back to defend my dubious title of National V40 Half Marathon winner!

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Race Report – Thorney 5 Mile Road Race – Sunday August 20th 2017

After a flurry of races in June, July and most of August was race free, save for some time trials on the bike and, if you call parkruns a race (Which I don’t), I came first at Ashton Court parkrun, which was quite a notable achievement if only because it was done on a not insignificant hangover after night one of my brother’s Stag Do. Thanks to a hefty downhill run to the finish I also clocked my fastest ever mile at 4:48!

My brother’s impending wedding certainly had an impact on my training for the Thorney 5. I’d only entered the race because the Notts 5 in July, which I’d intended to run, had been cancelled, and I needed another scoring race for our running club’s Grand Prix series, of which Thorney was one of the 20 races to available to score from. I had a week or so back home after the stag do to train before heading off for five nights caravanning  in London, mainly to watch the World Athletics Championships.

I managed to get a short run in on the Thursday afternoon on the Green Link of parks in South London,

A structure found during the Greenlink Run by the Thames.

but nothing on the Friday, when my family and I attended the first evening session, thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere when Mo Farah won the 10,000m.

Men’s 10,000m at the World Athletics Championships in London. Friday 4th August 2017.

There was no run on Saturday either as I enjoyed a morning of athletics at the stadium before inviting my brother and fiance for the second of four barbecues we knocked up beside the caravan at Abbey Wood. Sunday saw no run either as I spent a second morning at the stadium before meeting my family to catch the start of the women’s marathon and then sat down in the fan zone area to enjoy the race from the comfort of a deckchair and then the podium from a small grandstand just meters from the newly crowned men’s and women’s champions.

The women’s marathon at the World Athletics Championships in London.
The men’s marathon podium at the World Athletics Championships in London.

Monday at least saw a run – a bit of an epic 20 mile effort as I made the round trip to the first flat my wife and I rented in South East London almost 20 years ago. It was much as we had left it, although the area itself had got itself a whole load posher than when we were residents.

Where I used to live!

That evening we enjoyed one last night of live athletics, seeing Laura Muir agonsingly close to securing a medal. Another night home not long before 1am and I was ready for a good rest. The reality was that we had just a couple of days before heading off to Poland for my brother’s wedding.

The wedding itself was amazing; Gdansk – where we spent three days after the wedding, was a fantastic city, as was Torun – where we’d briefly stayed before the wedding itself. I managed one somewhat hungover run there the morning after an evening of drinking at the bride to be’s parents’ house and, coincidentally the night of the worst storms apparently in Polish history, which knocked down thousands of trees and tragically killed five people.

A bit of Rocky style training at a run in Torun, Poland.

I also managed a very painfully hungover run on the morning after the wedding itself, the first few miles were as hard as anything I’ve done this year as the head cried enough! 

The venue for a great wedding and a very painful run!

Gdansk should have seen plenty of miles and I at least managed to get out three times. There had been gentle attempts before we headed to Poland to sell the idea of me taking part in the Gdansk marathon, which took place on the Tuesday (a public holiday in Poland). Eventually I decided it perhaps wasn’t the best idea to race a marathon in the middle of what was now a family holiday. As it transpired , a severe wasp sting on my right foot on the Monday, left it several times bigger than the left, which made running somewhat uncomfortable and almost certainly impossible to race a marathon.

The finish line for the Gdansk Marathon, which I definitely didn’t take part in.

We arrived back from Poland late on Thursday night with the Thorney 5 on the Sunday morning. I ran an easy ten miles on the Friday morning, then took the Saturday off. I felt tired, lethargic and somewhat unfit having enjoyed the best part of two weeks drinking and eating too much, going to bed too often the wrong side of midnight and waking up not entirely rested. I even considered not racing on Saturday evening such was my lack of confidence over my fitness, race fitness especially, but I thought in the end it would be worth the effort to go along and give it a go – even if I ran sub-par.

Thorney is a 50 minute or so drive from Grantham, a small village northeast of Peterborough. I was one of the first to arrive, around 90 minutes before the start of the race. I collected my number and began to prepare myself for a warm up. Usually I do two miles maximum for a warm up – often due to time limitations, but with some more time to kill than usual I decided to opt for a 5k warm up, interspersed with some deep calf stretches on a conveniently placed kerb stone to try and alleviate a niggly Achilles that has been troubling me on and off for almost exactly a year now (It’s actually a calf issue that is resolved with the regular stretching I sometimes neglect doing).

By coincidence I’d actually managed to run a good chunk of the race course. It was a simple out and back affair largely on the old A47, which is now a road vastly over sized for the volume of traffic it no longer carries thanks to a bypass built twelve or so years ago. The warm up felt fairly comfortable, and I was able to run the last mile at around 6:20 pace with little difficulty. It also served as a useful guide to how the wind would affect the race. The course is all but pancake flat and would be a guaranteed PB course were it not for the winds that usually afflict this fen land part of the country. For the fens the winds on the day of the race were not too challenging, but strong enough that they would determine the pattern of the race. They would be a tail wind for much of the first half before becoming a cross wind, then a head wind for the closing stages.

I still had nearly half an hour to kill so I headed to somewhere with a carpet to do some final stretches. The race physio was there, and with no-one to treat, he asked if I’d like some help with any thing. My right hamstring was quite tight, mostly thanks to having done a few too many squats, so I took him up on his offer. I was only there for about five minutes or so but i must say he worked wonders loosening off not just that hamstring, but the left one too, and my glute muscles.

With ten minutes to go before the start of the race I was totally ready to race – last toilet stop done, final stretches carried out and laces tightened for the final time. We lined up on the start line with a few minutes to kill. I scanned the front line of runners for recognisable local talent. The big names were clearly not there but there were some runners who looked lean and talented, so mentally I assumed it would be another race where I watched runners disappear quickly off into the distance.

The race started promptly at 10:30 – the opening 100 meters or so actually on the only incline of the race, although in any other race it wouldn’t actually register as an incline, it was so shallow. I set off comfortably, but fairly briskly, yet I was well outside the top ten for the opening couple of minutes of the race. One runner quickly broke away to form a gap over a group of three and, around three minutes into the race, I found myself a few seconds behind that group in a larger pack of around six or seven runners. Feeling a little better than expected I put in a little effort to break clear of that group and catch the group ahead. I then sat at the back of the group as we went through the opening mile marker in 5:18. This is a fair few seconds quicker than I’ve run in the opening mile of the recent 10K races but because we were aided by the tail wind it actually felt fairly comfortable.

The second mile saw one of the three runners in my group break clear and attempt to catch up with the lead runner who, having established a gap of around 10 seconds appeared to be slowing. Indeed it wasn’t long before he was indeed caught and passed, not just by the leader, but by our group of three too. I remained at the back of  the three strong group, the two ahead of me seemed to know each other fairly well and I was the interloper. The fact that all three of us were able to talk to each other suggested that maximal pace had not yet been reached. The runner ahead of us continued to pull away but at a reduced rate. Indeed as we turned right off the main road and onto a small country lane, the gap became static, and if anything began to reduce slightly.

We went through the second mile in 5:20, again largely wind assisted. The right turn meant we now faced a cross wind. I played a tactical card and drew alongside the other two (who were Robert Brownlee of Nene Valley Harriers and John Pike of Peterborough AC), but made sure I was by the gutter on the left hand side of the road, being sheltered as much as possible from the wind.

Kieran White leads the Thorney 5 at around halfway. Picture c/o Thorney Running Club

At just over 2.5 miles we made a dead turn to begin our return back to the start. I immediately placed myself in the middle of the road, to the right of the other two so that, again, I would get as much shelter from the cross wind as possible. It was at the dead turn that Robert Brownlee made the first surge of the race in an attempt to break the group. Both John and I were able to keep up with him and as we did I drew alongside and just past as the pace slowed back down.

(L to R): Robert Brownlee, John Pike, and myself, at around halfway. Picture c/o Thorney Running Club

The third mile was clocked at 5:28, which meant we went through 5k in approximately 16:42. Had I known that I’d run comfortably inside my official 5k PB (and just outside my parkrun best), I may have scared myself into easing the pace. As it was I wasn’t really paying too much attention to the watch and instead enjoying the race and the tactics that were unfolding.

This surge meant we quite quickly closed down the gap to the leader and before we even hit the main road again, we had passed Kieran White of Hercules Wimbledon, who would go onto finish fourth. Just before the main road, John put in a surge, running close to 5 minute mile pace before we slowed again to something around 5:40 pace. Once again I was able to stay with the surge and again I just allowed myself to drift towards the front of the group, giving the idea that I was helping with the pace and pushing on, when in reality I was keeping the pace steady and avoiding any kind of surging.

We turned left and back onto the main road, where we hit a near full on head wind. John made another strong surge in a big attempt to try and break the tow of Robert and myself. I had to dig quite deep to catch back up with him but I managed it, and once again, the pace slowed as I once again pulled alongside to co-lead the race. At a slight dogleg right we hit the four mile marker with a 5:35 mile clocked and Robert put in another strong surge. This proved too much for John and he began to drop back. I dug deep again and was able to pull alongside Robert. This time, rather than let the pace slow, I maintained the effort for a few more seconds, long enough for Robert to firstly drop behind me and tuck in, then to slowly, but inexorably, begin to drop back.

My HR was pretty high, not far off maximal, but I felt that I could have maintained the pace, even perhaps gone a little quicker. The limiting factor was a bit of tummy trouble which deteriorated the quicker I ran. Halfway through the final mile and fully into the headwind I was able to maintain a pace that saw me continue to slowly pull away but not feel like I was about to imminently about to have an unfortunate accident.

As we returned into Thorney village the realisation hit me that I was in the lead and on course for a very unlikely victory. I tried to relax as much as possible, but continued to nervously look behind to see if Robert was closing on me. Taking a right at the crossroads I knew I had less than a minute of running left and put on a semi hard sprint. I looked once again behind and was relieved to see that Mr Brownlee didn’t have a Farah like finishing kick and so victory was assured.

As I turned into the finishing straight the clock ticked 27:15 and I realised a healthy PB was the reward for victory. I raised my arms in triumph as I crossed the finish line in 29:27.7 (with a 5:28 final mile), clocking a new five mile PB by 32 seconds. I waited for 10 seconds for Robert to cross the line, congratulated him and then, a few moments later, John on a good race. I recovered quickly enough to head back down the course a little to cheer home fellow GRC runners, accepting the congratulations of a few runners and spectators who recognised me as the winner.

With 40 minutes to kill until the prize giving ceremony I went on a rare post race warm down which was nearly another 5km long. This felt surprisingly easy – normally I struggle to walk properly after races! I went into the Village Hall, and after 10 or so minutes of winning I collected my rather impressive winners’ trophy. It later transpired I would have also been the Cambridgeshire 5 Mile Road Race Champion, were it not for the fact I don’t reside in, nor was born in, Cambridgeshire.

With my trophy! Picture c/o Robert McArdle.

After a quick photo with the aforementioned trophy, the day was done and I returned to my car for the journey home, still not quite believing I had won. As the local Grantham Journal pointed out, when I made it onto the back page for the first time, if I recall correctly, If the recipe for success is eating, drinking, and partying to excess, then maybe I need to holiday more often!

Infamy on the back page of the Journal!