It wasn’t my intention to take part in the Folksworth 15, rather an opportunity arose a month before the race for me to take someone else’s place due to injury. I had planned originally for January to be a strictly base building month ahead of the London Marathon, but then something in me said it would be a shame to turn down a chance to race (for free) on a free weekend when you are in reasonably good shape.
Indeed 2016 ended and 2017 began with a flurry of ‘race efforts’ interspersed with some serious Christmas eating and drinking. I ran Belton House parkrun for four consecutive weekends: on Christmas Eve as part of a 17.5 mile run (5th, 17:55); New Year’s Eve a very surprising 3rd in 17:00 (My third fastest ever 5k and definitely the fastest off road 5k!); January 7th I came first in a pleasing 17:29 as part of a 14 mile run; and January 14th I clocked 17:16 for second place, part of a 20 mile run which averaged 6:30 per mile. With no specific training I was clearly running myself into good form – perhaps the best 5k form I’ve been in.
There was no real taper for Folksworth other than the concession to have a day off before the race. Race morning awoke cold with temperatures struggling to climb above freezing. With ice a real risk I wondered whether the event may be cancelled but there was no indication so I left at 8:30 for the 50 minute or so journey just south of Peterborough. I parked up next a small farm barn (an official parking spot) and jumped into a waiting minibus arranged to take runners to race HQ. All very well organised!
Despite arriving well over an hour ahead of the start race HQ (A small primary school) was pretty crowded. I met up with some of the 18 or so strong Grantham Running Club contingency taking part in the race. I changed into my race kit – I opted to go in a full thermal mode, so went for running tights, compression socks, short sleeved thermal layer and new GRC long sleeved top, which had only been once before at a small inter club cross country race held on ‘Madge’s Farm’ on January 2nd, which I somehow managed to win. I also opted to test the Hoka One One Clifton 2’s for a race with the view of saving them for the London Marathon. Since putting around 300 miles on them I’ve come to enjoy their cushioning and sense of rebound with light weight credentials – it was these shoes I ran the fast parkrun times in.
The warm up was brief – just over a mile to survey the condition of the course, which was cold, frosty, but pretty much ice free. The biggest issue around the start was the state of the toilets and in particular the portaloos, which had all frozen solid and were in a very sorry state. It was a case of holding your breath and spending as little time in them as possible! Rather than head too early to the start I took sanctuary in the post race hot drinks area which was sparsely populated and did a pre-race stretch. I got to the start line just a few minutes before the start and, like quite a few others, used the local farm land to fully empty the tanks, embarrassingly caught on camera!
Warming up the frozen fields! Picture c/o Jaime Garcia.
There was precious free pre-race race ceremonies or speeches, little more than a warning to watch out for ice and then a countdown from 5 down to 0 with the race kicking off exactly on time at 11am. I’d lined myself up in the second row, having seen inevitable (and actual) race winner Aaron Scott warming up that there was no point going off with the leaders. That said my pace was pretty quick for the opening half mile – nearly 5:30 pace before the gaps developed, race order was formed, and I settled down to a 5:46 opening mile.
From the off I felt as though my legs weren’t quite at the party on this day, feeling a little heavy and sluggish. The second mile slowed to 5:54 (although Strava GAP reckons it’s worth a 5:45) as there was the first of three climbs on the 7.5 mile lap. It was here I passed the seventh placed runner. On the fairly frosty descent I pulled clear of him but the sixth place runner was already some way in the distance. It was going to be a lonely race! The third mile had the hardest climb on the course – not massively steep but enough to slow the pace to 6:12 (5:38 on Strava GAP). It was here the support of marshals and spectators came into its own. This is not the most interesting of courses and it is the enthusiasm of those helping and watching that keeps you going.
Running solo even early on in the race. Picture c/o Athleticspics.
Miles four and five are on a top of a ridge, mostly flat but with a nagging head wind on this day which just made running feel a bit tough. I clocked a consistent 5:51 and 5:52, by now resigned to just having the splits on my watch to keep me motivated as all hope of catching any one in front looked remote. To break the monotony I decided to take on water at the first drinks station. The water in the cups was icy cold and as I took a mouthful it chilled the chest and prompted a coughing fit. I decided from then not to take on any more water.
The sixth mile saw us turn left and head towards home on a most enjoyable gradual downhill stretch, made complete by the nagging headwind becoming a near tailwind. It was here I was thankful for the Hoka’s as the tarmac is well worn and hard on the soles of the feet – memories of suffering in my Nike Free’s when I ran this race last three years earlier came flooding back to me. I clocked 5:34 (A leisurely 6:02 on Strava GAP). The easy mile came to a crashing halt with a cheeky little climb early on in the seventh mile, but today I climbed with little fuss and managed to break 6 minutes for the mile with a 5:57 (5:40 GAP).
Completing the end of the first lap. Still all alone. Picture c/o Athleticspics.
As I completed the first lap and passed halfway I glanced at my watch, it read 44:02, which meant I was just inside my course (And 15 mile PB) of 1:28:39. This gave me a brief moment of motivation as I was keen to try and break 1:28, and so I was in with a shout. Mile 8 was 5:42 (5:55 GAP), but I waned on the ninth mile with a 5:57 (5:53 GAP). The tenth and eleventh miles had the two climbs, I felt like I struggled as I clocked 6:02 and 6:20, but these were worth a 5:56 and 5:44 apparently.
It was nearing the top of the second climb that I glanced back to see if anyone was within catching distance. The eighth placed guy appeared to be closing, this gave me the motivation to keep the tempo going. On the flat ridge and into the headwind I clocked 5:58 and 5:51. Turning left onto the lovely long descent I allowed myself a look back to see whether eighth place was any closer. I thought he was but a marshal assured me I still had a healthy gap.
Tackling the final hill. Picture c/o Athleticspics.
This good news relaxed me somewhat tackling the downhill fourteenth mile in 5:36 (6:04) knowing that I could take it fairly easy if necessary on the final climb and still finish seventh. The thought though of a course PB spurred me on up the final hill and around the last corner down the long barely downhill stretch to the finish. I turned left into the finish area, glancing at the finishing clock which had me, having run a 5:51 final mile (5:31 GAP), just under 20 seconds inside my PB with a chip time of 1:28:21.
Crossing the Folksworth 2017 Finish Line. Picture c/o Jamie Garcia.
With the race done I didn’t have long to wait for the next GRC runner to finish, Chris Limmer coming in around four minutes later. We went to change into warmer clothes before returning to the finish to see nearly all the other GRC runners finish. I tried to organise a post-race picture of all of us, it turned out to be an impossible task. We went to the prize giving ceremony. As in 2014 I missed out on a prize by one position, I was second V40, the first V40 finished ahead of me in sixth. As in 2014 I was somewhat relieved I didn’t win a prize, as recipients appeared to be mostly getting a random selection of wine glasses that I don’t need!
The post race GRC group photo.
With that done I walked back to the car and headed home. My immediate post race opinion that it was probably the most boring race since I last run the Folksworth 15 (But more boring than that) hasn’t really changed much, but it was an encouraging start to the year. I hope that the rest of the races in 2017 see a bit more race action!
It’s been a funny old year, 2016. So much going on in the world, not much of it that good. I find it bittersweet that, sporting wise, I probably had my most successful ever year. I may not have bagged any PBs but I won races and prizes, represented my country at a World Championships, and had several other strong events.
The flip side was that I also had some pretty bad races and some really tough times during training. Around half as many bad experiences as good.
So here, are my top 10 best experiences of 2016 and my worst 5 …:
The Best
The 2016 Newton’s Fraction Half Marathon was quite simply the best, most exciting race I have ever taken part in, made all the more special as it was my home race and because until the morning of the race, I genuinely thought that injury would prevent me from taking part.
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2. If you asked me at the beginning of 2015 if, 18 months later, I would be taking part in the ITU World Duathlon Championships, I would have laughed at you. That I took part was amazing. That I wound up seventh in my Age Group was almost unbelievable. A most pleasing performance, especially given the pre-race dramas with the dreaded cramping.
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3. I didn’t write about it for some reason, but on Wednesday 4th May I was honoured to take part in Ben Smith’s 247th consecutive marathon. We visited 19 schools around Grantham, receiving a heroes welcome at each of them. Spellbinding stuff! He is a true legend. A day I will never forget.
4. Not an event nor a race, my three week summer holiday was the best I’ve ever had. One of the joys of the road trip was the near daily dose of near 10 mile runs and the photo opportunities that entailed. Aside from one parkrun there was no competitive bent to the running, just enjoying getting out and savouring the many delights Britain has to offer.
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5. The race itself was not that exciting. Nor was it the biggest nor most prestigious. But I will forever remember the Stilton Stumble 24K race as the first and, to date, only road race I have ever won.
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6. The race itself was not that exciting. Nor was it the biggest nor most prestigious. But I will forever remember the Holdenby Duathlon (standard distance) as the first and, to date, only duathlon I have ever won. Two golden weeks in October!
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7. 2016 was the year I got serious about cycling. Once I’d qualified for the World Duathlon Championships, I knew I needed a proper time trial bike, so I got one. Then I got myself a proper decent racing bike. I used that bike one weekend in July when I decided to take part in two sportives in two days. 100 miles on ride one, a mere 76 on the second, but featuring the best (worst) hills that the Cotswolds can throw at you. Sportives aren’t races, but I was pleased to be in the top 5 fastest times on day one and possibly as high as third on day two.
8. I’ve not cycled as much as I would have liked, but 2016 has seen me cycle more miles than ever before. Probably my favourite ride came early on in the year at one of Witham Wheelers’ Reliability Rides. No winners, no prizes, just the satisfaction of riding with and climbing alongside some of the best riders in the area and not disgracing myself.
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9. I hate cross country running. I try my best to avoid it. But there is something unique about the National Cross Country Championships that inspired me to go buy some cross country spikes and take part.I didn’t have a particularly great race, I didn’t enjoy a lot of it – far too muddy for my liking – but it marked my last team outing in a Kenilworth Runners’ vest before switching first claim allegiance to Grantham Running Club. For that reason it was a special race.
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10. The notable part of the Robin Hood Half Marathon was that I wound up finishing as third Veteran. Not a particularly remarkable achievement but the race had the honour of calling itself the National Half Marathon Championships and so technically I am the third best Veteran half marathon runner in the country. This is, of course, nonsense, but I was £50 richer for the experience.
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The Worst:
I trained hard and well for the London Marathon. It was to be my first appearance as a Championship entrant. I was in the form of my life. Then the 7-10 days before the race I suffered the leg cramps, that had previously afflicted me seemingly randomly, on pretty much each training run before the race. I went in nervous that they would hit me in the race. All was good until six miles then I got the first dreaded symptom and I knew my day was done. At the end I vowed my marathon days were over. Like so many who have uttered those words before, they proved to be short lived promises…
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2. The day I snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. The Rockingham Duathlon will forever be remembered as the day I wished I could count…
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3. If you ignore the minute or so I spent walking as I tried to get myself going after suffering stitch, there would have been a 10K PB at the Summer Solstice 10K. As it stands it became a race best forgotten (But I can’t…)
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4. The Dambuster Duathlon shouldn’t really feature in the worst events of the year as it proved to be the race that qualified me for the World Duathlon Championships. At the time though it was one of the least enjoyable, most poorly executed, and miserable races I had ever taken part in. Part of me is glad it may have been the last ever incarnation of the race (although it is actually a bit of a tragedy the organisers appear to have given up on it).
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5. For nearly eighteen months I’d been suffering what I called random cramps in my quads, hips, and glutes. I put up with it until I took part in the Thunder Run 24 Hour Race. I knew something was amiss before I even began running and, sure enough, the hip flexors began cramping just a mile into my one and only leg (I was working that weekend). Bloody mindedly I put up with the increasing discomfort, pain, and then agony for seventeen more miles before finally calling it quits after three laps.
The positive to come from this was it was the event that made me revisit my GP and insist that something be done about it and fears of some weird chemical imbalance put to rest. Touching wood, a trip to Loughborough and some great physio since has meant I’ve barely had a sniff of any issue since October.
Unless there is a dramatic change of heart, the Keyworth Turkey Trot half marathon will be my last race of 2016. This is a much hyped race, entries opened one morning in late September and all 1000+ places were filled by the same evening. I entered on a whim, confident I could sell my place if I didn’t fancy racing it after all.
As the weeks went by I felt more compelled to give it a go, and so trained semi-specifically for it. I ran three short interval sessions (pretty much the first of the year aside from one at the very beginning) and a couple of quick tempo training runs before committing myself to base training (i.e. nothing hard or particularly fast) in preparation for the London Marathon in April. I’d done a couple of long runs with a parkrun stuck in the middle, a long run on the hilly Newton’s Fraction half marathon course and three Tuesday evening runs containing the same killer hill at Great Gonerby. This was all done with the knowledge that the Turkey Trot is an undulating race with one stiff climb in particular – at around three miles.
Injury wise I was fairly clear of anything major – the left Achilles is still nagging away but continues to show every indication it is a calf issue. I’ve had a problem with a tendon aching on the top of the left foot – caused by overly tight laces on one run. It’s been tricky, but I’ve been able to continue running with some readjustment of laces and sticking with a couple of pairs of trainers that hurt less than the others. The cramp sensations I’ve been suffering at random periods for much of the past two years are much diminished – all but disappeared since I began having some regular physio to establish the cause of them. Early days yet but the suspicion is it is a significant lack of any mobility in the thoracic spine and other issues regarding flexibility in the hip and pelvis area. A daily dose of specific stretches and mobility exercises have appeared to work wonders. So it was I went into the race fairly confident I would last without cramping up or suffering with bad Achilles pain. I was though fighting the inevitable colds that are flying around town and being brought en masse by my youngest daughter. Come race day however I was pretty much bug free.
A pleasant feature of the Keyworth Turkey Trot is the relatively late start – 10:30am. I doubt this is to let runners enjoy a pre-Christmas lie-in. The reality is more likely to give any overnight ice and frost the chance to melt away. Thankfully after a day of heavy rain on the Saturday, Sunday awoke dry and with fairly pleasant temperatures for running – around 8C – albeit with a slightly annoying breeze. I awoke at the normal hour for a Sunday, had breakfast, the coffee, grabbed as much Match of the Day I could before setting off for the 40 minute journey to Keyworth.
I made it to one of three car parks (all with postcodes provided and walking distance to race HQ on the pre-race instructions – a great touch) with over 90 minutes to spare. This guaranteed a seat in the school hall used as Headquarters for the race. I went about preparing for the race, taking a risk with the Nike Frees as the last time I tried to wear them they were too painful on the foot tendon – but today they felt fine. I had the chance to chat with a few guys and gals from Belvoir Tri Club, who had appeared in huge numbers for this race, before bidding adieu and setting off on an uneventful warm up and a queue for the toilets, which was long, but well managed by race crew.
The plan had been for a pre-race Grantham Running Club group photo but this never quite materialised due to people queuing for baggage, toilets, warming up etc. I’m never a big fan of the pre-race photo, I’d rather be concentrating on the race, so ten minutes before the off and with a last minute trip to the loo required, I declared the pre-race photo postponed until after the race. I joined the front of the race with five minutes to spare, the race looked like it was going to go off early until someone on a walkie-talkie reigned in the enthusiasm of the starter and insisted it go off on time.
Lining up for the start. I’m behind runner 1112. Photo c/o John Oldfield.
So at the prescribed time of 10:30 we were off. A key feature of the Keyworth Turkey Trot is the lightening fast start. The opening of the race is downhill and regularly sees runners hurtling off way faster than any pace they can maintain. A sting follows almost immediately with a drag uphill of around the same length before the race calms down on a section of flat before another downhill stretch as the local church is passed and Keyworth is departed. Much of the first three miles is downhill, albeit fairly gently. It is usually time to bank some seconds but at the same time being careful to not get too over exuberant and run faster than the descent allows for.
The start of the race. Photo c/o John Oldfield.
I had a fairly mediocre start to the race. My legs took a few minutes to come to life and a mile or so before the left Achilles stopped aching. The field soon became quite spread out with a rapid bunch of runners quickly disappearing into the distance. I went through the opening mile in 5:38, which I knew was eight seconds down on 2013, when I ran the race for the first and only time. The second mile saw me employ some tactics. We were heading west, into the not stiff, but noticeable breeze. I had two runners behind me who were clearly taking shelter behind me, so I slowed until they were forced to take the pace. I tucked in behind them. This wasn’t particularly comfortable as I was chopping my stride a bit but I reckoned the protection could help later in the race energy wise. I went through the second mile in 5:45 compared to 5:40 in 2013. Back then I was setting off at PB speed, this year I knew I was already a bit off PB shape, but looking forward to another solid race.
At the two mile point we turned left and the headwind was a crosswind negated by tree cover. Instinctively I pulled out from the two in front of me and put in a little surge. One was able to follow, the other began to drift. I knew from experience in 2013 that there would be a pair of hills just before and just after three miles which would further shape the outcome of the race. Not caring about drafting I pushed on and focused on catching the couple of runners ahead of me.
The first hill came at just before the end of the third mile, I felt strong and clocked 5:57, comparing favourably to the 6:09 I set in 2013. Back then at this point I’d began to feel decidedly dodgy and suffered badly on the second hill – which felt as though it was one of the toughest I’d ever encountered. This time around the hill was a challenge but felt relatively easy, certainly easier than the local Grantham favourites Casthorpe and Woolsthorpe. It seems that the three and a bit years of Granthams’ hills have weathered the legs well in coping with elevation. I passed the two runners ahead of me – but was a little perturbed that another runner passed me as we neared the top of the climb.
Chasing the runner who was quicker than me on the main hill. Photo c/o Neil Rabbitts.
The hill came and ended early on during the fourth mile. The pace for that mile averaged around 6:55, so I knew that I’d have to forget about recovery and put in some effort to get that average down. Thankfully that was made easier by chasing down the guy who’d passed me on the hill. Once I caught him we actually worked together for a bit taking the pace. He appeared to be working hard so I reckoned eventually he would tire, but for now he was useful company. The fourth mile was the slowest of the race – 6:03, but that was ten seconds quicker than in 2013.
The next few miles were fairly unremarkable. We passed through a couple of pleasant villages where there was great support, and a few other places with small pockets of spectators, otherwise there wasn’t much to entertain other than the aim of getting to the finish as quickly as possible. The fifth mile was a quick 5:35 (5:45 in 2013), the sixth was slower at 5:55 (6:00 in 2013), but the constant elevation changes made consistent pacing tricky. The seventh mile was 5:51 (5:52 in 2013) and it was here my mind got a little confused as the rolling hills I’d remembered as being at around 10 miles were evidently three miles earlier than the brain had processed them as being. It may have temporarily forgotten two miles or so, but the memory of a very pleasant gently descending stretch of road came flooding back.
Pulling clear of my hill nemesis. Picture c/o Neil Rabbitts.
By now I had pulled slightly clear of the runner who’d passed me on the hill and I was chasing two runners in front of me. Mile 8 was 5:45 (5:51 in 2013) and mile 9 was 5:40 (a swift 5:32 in 2013). As we came to a small village where Keyworth Rugby Club were playing, I feared the sight of a whacking great hill. Fortunately we turned right and along a stretch of flat road I knew would lead to a left hand turn and the final hills of the race. As we did I caught one of the two runners in front of me, just as we were cheered on by his (heavily pregnant) wife sporting a helium balloon for the husband who was celebrating his birthday with a rather swift half marathon. Sadly for him I was offering no gifts and I passed him as we turned left, faced the headwind, once again, and began climbing.
The tenth mile was 5:48 (5:45 in 2013). I now began pushing to try and put a gap on the birthday boy who was proving stronger than his slight fade a few moments earlier had suggested. This last hill was a real pain – not particularly steep and with a brief descent in the middle, but seemingly going on forever. Still mile 11 was 5:57 (6:04 in 2013), and I knew that most of the way to the finish was downhill. I pushed on hard, fearful that I would be caught, but now my left hip and groin were giving a few aches, so I was tempered a touch. The 12th mile was another 5:57 (6:02 in 2013). The first half of the last mile was all downhill and quite steep in places. This though was almost a hindrance as it caused a little cramping in the left quad. Thankfully the descent ended and the cramp desisted and I pushed on, still thinking I had a runner right behind me.
The end of the Turkey Trot was a killer in 2013, an ill-timed hill right near the finish put pay to a chance of a PB. This year I felt stronger and knowing there would be a hill, better prepared. I didn’t know it at the time but I climbed that hill only a few seconds slower than the winner which is fairly satisfying. I logged a 5:37 for the final mile (5:41 in 2013), and with a glance at the watch knew I was going to beat 1:17.
On the finishing straight. Picture c/o John Oldfield.
I crossed the line in 1:16:45, unaware of my finishing position (It was eighth), but made immediately aware that I had won the prize as first veteran finisher! I knew what was coming! First I received my multi-tool medal from Santa himself. I quickly got changed and got out just in time to photo most of the GRC runners coming to the finish line. Star of the day was SJ who knocked an impressive four minutes off her PB. I had little doubt she’d do well having struggled to chase her down on the way to Belton House parkrun a few weeks earlier!
SJ heading to the finish.
With all the GRC runners in there was finally chance for the obligatory group photo:
The GRC Group Photo.
Then there was a bit of hanging around for the prize ceremony. Kudos to my team mates for hanging around, even if one had to disappear for what appeared an inordinately long time sorting out their dodgy guts! As has been pointed out I’ve received my share of odd prizes recently. This may not quite have topped the slap of stilton, but the frozen turkey is certainly a prize that would be mostly wholly inappropriate at any other time of year – but at this time was most warmly received – Christmas dinner is sorted!
First the glass presented… Picture c/o Neil Rabbitts.Me and the turkey! Picture c/o SJ Willis.
With that the day was done and home we headed. All in all a good day’s work. Very pleased to have broken 77 minutes for the half, especially as the average HR was 3-5 beats lower than it usually was. I didn’t push full gas, that’s for sure, yet managed a respectable time. With Christmas fast approaching it’s back to base training preparing for the London Marathon. Next race (Hopefully) the Folksworth 15.
I had two weeks following the success of the Holdenby Duathlon to prepare for the Rockingham Duathlon, where I was taking part in the standard distance – 10k run, 38k bike, and a 5k run to conclude. The week following was a mostly easy affair recovering from the duathlon which had certainly taken it out of me. It was the first time since early September where I tried to resume running relatively normally. The left Achilles continues to be a source of some pain and frustration. I was testing out my new Hoka Hoka One Clifton 2 trainers, which were certainly packed with cushioning and pretty light with it. Both Wednesday and Thursday’s run were noticeable for the high heart rate for the pace, a legacy of the racing and the lack of running miles in recent weeks. Thursday’s run saw the Achilles ache a fair amount. I was most enthused by Saturday’s run though. Out of the door later than usual thanks to late night working on Mexican time, I was back in my Brooks and I managed 13.4 miles around town with barely a whiff of Achilles aching and coming in just under seven minute per mile average.
Sunday saw a rare excursion with the Witham Wheelers on a 55 mile or so ride which was mostly gentle in pace. Still feeling fresh once home I headed out for a brick run which turned into a ten km effort. With the first mile an easy 6:27 and the second a still comfortable 6:10 I was enjoying this run loads, even if the left Achilles was grumbling away. I kept the effort up, putting on a near flat out effort on the Auf Widersehen Pet Strava segment to regain my KOM which I’d lost a couple of days earlier. This effort proved a useful fartlek style effort as I returned from sub five minute mile pace to run the final mile and a half at 5:40 pace. Sub 38 minutes for any training 10k is pleasing, more so off the back of a bike ride and with a crazy fast effort two thirds of the way into a run.
The week before the Duathlon saw less running – a rare intervals session on Tuesday with the Harlaxton Harriers was run at 80% effort as I was feeling tired after a long weekend of work and exercise. I put in two easy effort two hour efforts on the elliptical trainer, an easy turbo trainer session and a GRC town run where I was hopeful of experiencing no Achilles pain, but came away disappointed to see it the worst it has been for some time. That aching meant I reluctantly opted not to take part in the first anniversary of Belton House parkrun, putting the time to good effect with an extensive stretching routine on the left calf especially, hoping (believing) that the source of the Achilles discomfort is coming mostly from the calf muscles.
After a particularly mild and dry October, weather forecasts for race day were looking fairly appalling, with strong winds direct from the Arctic feeding heavy rain showers over Rockingham Motor Speedway from 9am through to early afternoon. Thankfully when I awoke on race day morning, although it was dark I could see that the skies above Grantham were clear – an indication that the weather forecast was maybe not quite 100% accurate. What was apparent though was that it was cold – temperatures only three or so degrees above freezing. What with the cold weather and the onset of a cold brewing (I was full of cold by late afternoon) I opted to eschew some aero performance and wear a long sleeved thermal base layer below my tri suit, tights over the top of the shorts, with long socks and half overshoes for the bike leg – hastily purchased midweek when forecasts predicted the cold snap. I even went with the buff worn around the neck to offer some extra warmth on the bike leg in particular. I did though opt to not wear my thick cycling gloves and made do with the same thin running gloves underneath the cycling mitts used at Holdenby. It was a bit of a gamble but I had big problems at Rutland Water in March trying to fasten the helmet with big gloves on, so I was prepared to risk a bit of frostbite for a swift transition.
Rockingham Motor Speedway may be something of a white elephant when it comes to motor sport – the number of races actually held on the oval are probably in single figures – but it makes for a pretty good sporting venue when cycling and running is concerned. As with most motor racing circuits, facilities are better than most races with ample parking spaces, plenty of places to warm up and ample permanent toilet facilities. I arrived 80 minutes before the start with my family in tow. Registration was painless and I was pretty relaxed before the start, making sure the bike was okay, my transition area was prepared, and my warm up done with the minimum of fuss, even if there was a little aching in the Achilles. I had the chance to meet some club mates from Belvoir Tri Club and my good friend and work colleague Russell, who is making his first steps in the world of duathlon and had an impressive fourth place finish on his debut a few weeks previous.
I headed to the start ten minutes from the off for a pre-race briefing. All seemed fairly straight forward, and I was pretty relaxed as we were called to the start line at the pit lane exit at 9:30am. With a countdown from ten we were off.
The start of the race. Team GB tri suit on again…. Picture c/o SBR Events / Wild Coy Photography.
I made a bit of a tardy start but soon found myself third behind the two runners leading above who quickly established a gap on the rest of the field. I put in a bit of an effort in the opening couple of minutes of the race to catch them then, as we made a U-turn off the oval and onto the infield circuit and into the stiff headwind, tucked myself nicely behind the two of them, trying to seek as much shelter as possible. We were soon faced with something I wasn’t expecting – a small incline which saw the runner in the grey top drop back. I kept with the blue-shirted runner as we passed through the first mile in 5:41. I kept on this guys heels for around half a mile further as we endured the worst of the wind, but I sensed the pace was dropping so I pulled alongside and passed him, pulling clear fairly comfortably as I clocked 5:46 for the second mile.
At this point I had a runner in the sprint event come haring up to us and past us just after he inquired which way we should be going. I laughed inside at his inability to follow the course, I wasn’t laughing so much a few minutes later as we headed back to the pit lane to complete the first lap. I wasn’t sure whether I should follow him on the inner pit lane entry or bear right and take the later exit or even stay on the oval itself by passing the pits. I went for the later exit and very nearly headed down the main straight before a marshal guided me the right way.
Approaching transition and with 5:58 clocked for mile three, another marshal assumed I was second in the sprint event and tried to send me into the transition zone. It was only at the very last minute another marshal realised I was in the longer event and sent me down the correct pit lane path. It was stress I could have done without and sent the adrenaline pumping. Looking back to see that no-one was behind me, I made a conscious effort to ease the effort. That said the fourth mile was still fairly fast at 5:43, although this was all within my half marathon HR parameters, so I felt comfortable.
Completing the first lap, taking the correct route… Picture c/o SBR Events / Wild Coy Photography.
While trying not to exert too much energy I knew I couldn’t relax too much on the run for I was likely not to be the quickest on the bike. Mile 4 was 5:43, mile 5 a 5:56 and mile 6 slowing a touch to 6:01 as I battled with the headwind and the slight incline.
Easing out the lead on the second lap of the 10k leg. Some spit expertly captured by the photographer! Picture c/o SBR Events / Wild Coy Photography.Staying relaxed on the second lap of the 10k leg. Picture c/o SBR Events / Wild Coy Photography.
As I approached transition I tried to relax, remembering that my bike was racked by garage 22. I clocked the 10k in 36:05, which was the fastest by one minute fifty four seconds. It also transpired that this was just six seconds slower than the winning time in the supporting 10k road race held after the Duathlon.
Despite rehearsing the run into my pit box a couple of times, I still managed to run a few yards past my bike, but, thankfully, only lost a few seconds and managed to not panic following this slight error. Attempting the elastic bands securing the bike shoes to the pedals trick for the first time in a race, all that needed doing was trainers taking off and helmet putting on. I spent a couple of extra seconds making sure the trainers were neatly placed for the second run, but other than that transition went well. It turned to be the third fastest of the race. Given that some efforts in other races have seen me near the bottom three this was pleasing. I didn’t quite manage the flying mount, preferring to stop and get one foot in a shoe before heading off, but it wasn’t long before I all in and racing along.
Heading along the main straight. Picture c/o SBR Events / Wild Coy Photography.
I enjoyed around 30 seconds of tailwind riding before turning into the headwind. The easy 30 mph quickly became a battle to break 15 mph as there wasn’t just a stiff cold wind to contend with but an imperceptible ascent to climb too. With 16 laps of this I settled into a rather dull, repetitive ride of a minute or so of easy fast riding and three minutes of headwind hell. Although I’m feeling far more comfortable in the TT tuck position of late I opted to sit up on the tailwind sections, partly to try and catch the wind and also to stress different parts of the quads which I feared could suffer if I maintained the same position for over an hour of riding which afforded absolutely no opportunity to stop pedaling.
The ride was pretty monotonous – riding around in fairly small circles, completing each lap in a shade over four minutes. What kept things mildly interesting was the volume of traffic to negotiate with over a hundred sprint and standard distance cyclists on the circuit at one point. The speed differential between slowest and fastest was significant, thankfully the oval circuit is very wide and it wasn’t difficult to sweep around the outside of riders.
I didn’t think I was having the best of rides – I felt unable to give it absolute full gas. That said the lack of people passing me was relatively reassuring. I was passed by one other rider at around halfway who soon pulled clear. I wasn’t totally convinced though he was actually ahead of me in the race, reckoning he may have unlapped himself, so to speak. One other rider approached me and sat on my wheel for a little while before being warned by the race referee for drafting. I didn’t see him again. Another rider pulled up to me, passed me, then didn’t move ahead as I rode fairly close behind him for 2/3s of a lap, pulling out wide on the banking to make it clear to anyone watching that I wasn’t drafting. I was then able to pass him on the main straight and he quite quickly dropped back, presumably having made a big effort to catch and gone too fat into the red doing so.
Battling with the wind. Picture c/o SBR Events / Wild Coy Photography.
It was at around this point, after around 12 laps, when I began to to get very concerned over how many laps I had completed and how many I had left to ride. I had used the auto lap feature on the Garmin to lap every 1.48 miles, this being the official length of the oval. However this was proving to be none too reliable thanks, in part, to forgetting to attach the speed and cadence sensor to my bike and so relying on GPS. Lap one was clocked at the start of turn one, by lap 12 it was nearing the approach to turn 2, pretty much halfway around the lap. That wasn’t helping. In the heat of the racing I also couldn’t decide whether I needed to complete 16 full laps or come in at the end of the fifteenth lap. With perhaps one or two laps to go, my support crew (the wife) didn’t seem too sure either when I began gesticulating with a couple of laps to go – they suggested I needed two and I decided to err on the side of caution and complete sixteen full laps.
A bit of shelter from the grandstands. Picture c/o SBR Events / Wild Coy Photography.
I headed into transition, successfully removing my feet from the shoes and dismounting before the line. I found my rack position and got the trainers on without cramping up the left calf – a first in my brief duathlon history. I had time to ask two spectators what position I was in. ‘Third or fourth’ came the reply. Bugger! Something was amiss. The scenarios quickly ran through my head as I left transition (in the third quickest time, I’m pleased to report retrospectively). Either I had done too many laps; two or three competitors had done too few; or the spectators had mistaken the standard distance competitors for straggling sprint competitors. Whatever the scenario I was pleased that I was quickly into my running; a quick look at the average pace suggested that comfortably sub six minute miles was attainable, should it be needed.
In reality the final 5k was uneventful. The nearest competitor behind was the one who had passed me on the bike leg, but he looked to be several minutes behind. Other than a couple of sprint event stragglers I passed, there was no-one within visual distance in front of me for the entirety of the run. The legs felt okay, but the right glute in particular felt a little numb, cold from the wind chill on the bike. I opted to keep a steady pace as I clocked the three miles in a 5k in 5:54; 6:00; and 6:09 – pretty much even paced when the hills and wind were taken into account. The biggest issue I had was trying to keep my number visible and actually on the belt, the wind having ripped it clear from three of the four attaching pins.
Halfway around the 5k run to conclude. Race number holding on by a single pin. Picture c/o SBR Events / Wild Coy Photography.
As I came to the finish line it was strangely quiet. My wife and family cheered me home but there was no-one at the finish line. The PA, which I’d vaguely heard while on the bike, was quiet. I hadn’t celebrated as I crossed the finish line, I got the impression I hadn’t finished first. I turned the corner and headed into the race HQ building to be handed my medal and to be told I finished fourth. I was pretty upset, but managed to remain relatively calm. I explained that only one rider had passed me and he was still out running. If I had completed the correct number of laps I could not have legitimately lost the lead.
I was told to try and find the race officials, who I found near transition in a van huddled around the timing system. As it happened they were trying to work out the discrepancies in the bike leg times between the top five finishers. I was six minutes slower than the rider who had come in first. Either he and the top three had ridden one lap too few or I had ridden one lap too many. It was when I went to collect my bike and see that my bike computer logged 24.6 miles that I feared the worst. 38km is 23.75 miles, evidently I’d ridden a lap too many (Post race Strava analysis suggests those who rode the correct number of laps rode 23.1 miles – it also suggests around 10% of the field made the same mistake I did, including Russell, who would have finished well inside the top ten had he not committed the same faux pas I did).
When this unfortunate result was confirmed to me I was disappointed but far less upset than when I first thought I’d been robbed of victory by competitors who had ridden too few laps. I made a mistake, lesson learned, and it won’t be made again. I didn’t miscount the number of laps, no elastic band or tape system would have helped with that. I just got confused out on the circuit what 16 laps meant. In hindsight it was obvious, the 10k run required two laps which saw us head into transition at the end of the second lap. I should have swapped bike for trainers at the end of the fifteenth lap, rather than the end of the sixteenth. Something to do with how the brain treats large numbers differently to small numbers is what I blame – that and not fully prepping myself before the race. At least I wasn’t the only one!
Just the medal to take home from the Duathlon.
So rather than the winners’ trophy to take home, I was resigned to just taking the rather snazzy medal and first place in my Age Group (No prizes for that, alas). My final 5k run was timed at 18:57, which was 39 seconds faster than the next quickest (A guy who finished 11th) and 90 seconds quicker than the winner. It is estimated that had I completed the right number of laps I would have won by over a minute. The actual winner was genuinely around two minutes quicker than me on the bike, but I was three minutes quicker on the runs and around 30 seconds quicker through transitions.
A disappointing outcome but there were plenty of positives to take from the race. After a couple of miles the Achilles ache disappeared and I didn’t feel it again for the rest of the race. My transitions were light years better than they were back in March when I took part in my first proper duathlon. My runs were solid but with room for more, as was the case on the bike – a different helmet (the pointy bit was too high in the air a lot of the time), some proper wheels and wearing aero kit are all free improvements to be gained in the future (As well as improving the actual riding bit). Most pleasingly, I stayed mostly calm at the end of the race and didn’t make a total idiot of myself (A little one maybe….) At the end of the day we were just running and cycling around in circles. There are far more important things in life – such as seeing Russell’s new baby daughter for the first time at the end of the race. That, I am sure, was the moment I lost any anger from the outcome of the race. As long as I stay fit and healthy there will be other opportunities to race and hopefully do well. For now I have a tell to tell of the race I through away by not being able to count. I’ll see the funny side of it one day!
Following the unexpected success at the Stilton Stumble I had just seven days to recover and prepare for the Holdenby Duathlon, a race I’d been targeting for some time, but only entered a day or two before the Stumble. The left Achilles was pretty stiff and sore following the race so I opted to spend as little time running as possible to give it a chance to recover.
Monday saw an hour on the elliptical trainer then a spin session in the evening operating at half gas. Considering the efforts of the day before that felt pretty good. Tuesday saw an hour on the elliptical trainer and an hour on the turbo following an easy program on TrainerRoad. These felt somewhat harder than Monday’s efforts.
Wednesday I headed out on the bike using the summer road bike I had planned to use with the addition of tri bars. This ride was something of an alarm call – the quads had absolutely nothing to give as soon as I went into the TT position. The HR was really low, but not in a good way low, more a something is not quite right low. It was a two hour ride that felt longer and harder.
Thursday saw two hours on the elliptical trainer, which wasn’t too arduous but felt as if I was fighting a cold trying to erupt. By Friday I had changed my mind over what bike to ride for the duathlon. A tip off by Hywel Davies on Strava who had recced the course on Wednesday, he suggested that a TT bike was definitely the way to go, even if the first half of the course was a little lumpy, and the second half had road surfaces of dubious quality.
This change of mind meant I needed to head out on the TT bike which I hadn’t ridden outside since the end of July. Riding the Witham Wheelers TT course the bike felt fine, save the Garmin mount which was somewhat broken, but the legs, if anything, felt worse than they did on Wednesday. I had little choice but to ride easy, rest up and hope for the best. That I kind of did, straight after a one mile brick run – a test of the Achilles and a test of the Hoka Hoka Clifton 2 trainers I’d bought a couple of months earlier and hadn’t got around to trying. They felt pretty good and the legs felt more lively running than when cycling.
Rest should mean rest but I read somewhere over lunch that Achilles problems can be caused by issues in the hip / glute area. This part of the body has been giving me a few issues recently, probably because the weekly core strength and conditioning programme has, let’s say, slipped over the past few months to not really doing anything at all save for some planks.
Friday I did twenty minutes and felt no ill effects. Saturday came and I was still feeling the effects of the ‘Stumble and by now suffering the consequences of being on Austin, Texas time covering the F1 by night and being on British Summer Time by day (i.e. being awake most of the time). Nonetheless I was keen to put in another S&T session, focusing on the glute medius muscle. All was going well until a set off crossover crunches saw my right hamstring tighten alarmingly near the glutes. The session was quickly abandoned for half an hour intense massage and stretching before needing to start work. By the evening and still walking with a little limp I considering not bothering to take part – the lure of a lie in was strong. Only the fact I had parted with a sum of hard cash persuaded me to set the alarm for 6am as I headed to bed shortly before 2am on Sunday morning.
Knowing that I would be pretty much comatose while staggering around the house Sunday morning, I had prepared as best I could to ensure an easy departure. This was achieved, leaving just a few minutes later than planned, but then 10 minutes into the journey I had a panic that I’d not remembered my trainers! I fretted all the way to my doorstep before remembering they were safely packed in my rucksack! Annoyed I went in anyway and picked up my rain jacket – a token gesture to suggest the return wasn’t entirely wasted – it was after all raining quite heavily in Grantham. Thankfully I was able to make up a little time en route to Holdenby and the rain was a distant memory when I pulled into the field to park. While the right hamstring was happily almost pain free I did manage to complicate matters by finding a tender spot in the right quad while poking around bored on the A1. This caused quite a deep long lasting pain which forced some frantic quad stretching on my arrival.
It was immediately apparent this was no World Championship event, this was a fairly low key relaxed race, albeit still with proper transition areas, chip timing and the like. I had just over an hour to get prepared. This is not as straightforward a task as when running – there is a bike to set-up and check, things to put in boxes, things to keep and not keep in transition. I must have fretted away 30 minutes before I made my final trip into transition shortly before the start and was satisfied I was ready.
The warm up was a token mile jogging slowly back and forth. Thankfully there was just a subtle ache in the Achilles, the right hamstring was fine, the right quad felt a little fuzzy, but bearable. I joined the rest of the field for an organised warm up session. I normally baulk at such an undertaking, but after a minute or so I realised that they were doing pretty much all the same exercises I was doing, so joined in – and felt better for it.
The final instructions were more important than normal to listen to. There was to be a foot down rule at a junction we had been warned about. There was also some temporary roadworks on the bike route covered by traffic lights. This was clearly not an ideal state of affairs. The thought of being unjustly held up by a costly red light already had me seeing red before the race had begun. Still there was nothing that could be done and there was always the chance this random luck / bad luck generator could play into my favour.
The warm up over we were greeted with a loud buzzing noise and the somewhat off putting sight of a drone hovering somewhat unsteadily just above us. We were encouraged to wave; I felt more inclined to duck for cover. Thankfully we were promptly given the countdown from five to begin and once off we were soon we were clear of the flying camera which, I presume, wasn’t seen again. I felt a little conspicuous to be taking part in my Team GB tri-suit. This wasn’t bragging, more the reality of only having one tri-suit. Hopefully soon I can get hold of a less conspicuous one.
As with the Stumble I instantly found myself at the head of the field from the off, but this time there was two or three who were quickly keen to take the pace, passed me and pulled out a small gap chasing the lead vehicle which would accompany us for most of the first lap only. I wasn’t overly concerned, but was a little bemused when after around three minutes of running we came down a short sharp descent and was swamped by five or six minutes hurtling down as if the finish was at the bottom of the hill! Admittedly I was taking it fairly gingerly here – I didn’t want to stress the quads, already showing signs of fragility and which have form for cramping up early in races on a descent.
Early on the opening run.
Thankfully the quads and all the other aching bits survived and, lo and behold, it wasn’t too many yards later where I began to pretty much all of the runners who flew past me a minute earlier and were now already beginning to show signs of paying the consequences. The first mile was swift – 5:41 but it was mostly downhill, so a 6:05 according to Strava GAP. The run was off road but the kind of off-road I’m agreeable with – firm underfoot and, for the most, part fairly even and not rutted.
The second mile was where i established my position in the race. I found myself moving up to third as we tackled the big steep hill on the climb. The lead two were around 20 seconds ahead but as looked at them I began to wonder whether they were actually competitors. I remembered that as well as the standard distance Duathlon with its 10km opening run leg, there was a sprint Duathlon with a 5k opening run leg, and also a 10km standalone running race. This explained why one of the lead two was wearing a baggy vest and shorts, which would be awfully casual attire for the lycra obsessed multi-sport world.
As I struggled with a section of hills and hollows coming in to complete the first lap the lycra clad runner peeled off to collect his bike in transition. I was now at worst second and likely to be leading the Standard distanced race. I very nearly ended up throwing it all away at the start of the second lap when I was confused by a poorly posted direction sign (It pointed left when it should have been straight ahead) and a gate that had become partially closed suggesting we should indeed turn left. This I did, but after a few seconds guessed that we hadn’t run through a farmyard on the first lap and had probably taken a wrong turn. I lost around 10-15 seconds but no one had passed me.
The run was proving to be hard but sustainable in terms of effort – mile 2 was 6:14 (5:50 GAP), mile 3 6:26, mile 4 6:13 and mile 5 6:02. There was no problem with low heart rate today, if anything it was a struggle to keep it down – the weeks of running inactivity beginning to show. The penultimate climb of the big hill was a struggle but I was pulling well clear of those behind me. Mile six was the slowest of the full mile of the run at 6:32 and there was a another 3/5s of a mile tackling before the the pesky hollows approaching transition to complete. It was here I received confirmation via the PA system that the runner ahead was indeed a runner and not planning on taking to a bicycle.
My transition to bike went really well and was commented on by a couple of spectators watching intently. As we were on wet grass and with the start of the bike leg tricky, I saw no point in attempting to run barefoot with bike shoes attached to bike. I calmly put helmet on first, took off trainers, put on bike shoes, unracked the bike and headed off to the mount point.
The bike leg was largely uneventful and played somewhat to my strengths. A two lap course, the first half of the lap was mostly uphill with two long descents. It meant that although I was on my TT bike there was little benefit of spending too much time in the TT position and I could put power through my quads in a more upright position. Also to save the quads I pedaled at a fairly high average cadence. I got myself in the TT position on the few flat sections of the course and on the gentle descents where the poor road conditions allowed. It transpired the road that had traffic lights had some of the most appalling road quality I’ve encountered – so rough that my bike mount broke and I had to hold onto the Garmin for dear life to avoid losing it altogether.
It was tricky to know how I was fairing on the bike as I was soon passing riders taking part in the sprint event. What I did know was that no-one passed me and no-one was in sight for the entire ride. I was fortunate in that on the two laps I was only held up for a few seconds at the traffic lights, and then again for 20 seconds or so coming into the village near Holdenby where parked cars were wreaking havoc.
An hour and nine minutes or so and the bike leg was over. I opted again to leave the bike shoes on when dismounting rather than get the socks wet. There was a little drama when the left calf wanted to cramp when taking the shoe off (Just as at Aviles) but again I was able to quickly stretch the calf and the pain passed. It wasn’t the quickest transition of the day but by now I was relaxed, confident that as long as the legs wanted to play ball on the run I was going to win.
Thankfully despite a little hip discomfort from the bike ride, the legs were soon up to speed, even if they didn’t feel like they were. The first mile was a 6:06 and half a mile later I was able to take a look back where I could see for nearly half a mile and I could no-one behind me. I relaxed as I settled to 6:16 for the second mile and almost allowed myself the luxury of walking up the last hill as mile three was a pedestrian 6:48 (6:15 Strava GAP). The last 0.3 mile was a little tortuous on the hollows but I was receiving congratulations from the Sprint athletes as they came to the finish too.
Crossing the finish line – ‘overjoyed’ with my victory!
As I crossed the line there was a small celebration but little in the way of elation. I’m not sure why I wasn’t happier, I think it was sheer relief that I managed to get around largely in one piece. There was also the matter of not being able to hang around too much as there was work at home to be done. I quickly changed and packed the bike in the car before a short podium presentation, minus the trophy I am still waiting for, which apparently hadn’t arrived and will be posted.
And that was that. My second win in as many weeks! They will be days I look back on with affection, for these victories are unlikely to happen very often. In the end I won by over three minutes – fastest on both the run legs and, pleasingly second fastest on the bike leg. The field may not have been the biggest or strongest, but, as they say, a win is a win is a win!
