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105 Days to Go – Melton Mowbray parkrun #1

Enthused by the encouraging run of a few days ago I was inspired to take part in the inaugural Melton Mowbray parkrun. Grantham residents are patiently awaiting their own edition of the free-to-enter-timed-5km-run. In the meantime they realistically have the choice of Peterborough, Lincoln or Clumber Park if they don’t mind a lengthy drive, or Newark if they want an event that is easily reachable, but is frustratingly a little over distanced for a 5km run (around 350 meters long by my reckoning).

Melton Mowbray, for me anyway, is roughly the same distance away (18.5 miles) as Newark, so the new parkrun potentially offered an attractive alternative. When the alarm went off at 7 am the mere thought of stepping outside didn’t seem that attractive with gale force winds battering the house and intermittent bouts of rain lashing against the window panes. I struggled for ten minutes to summon the will power required to leave the comfort of my duvet behind, but I managed it and before long I was preparing myself for the run.

The drive to Melton on the A607 was blissfully free of traffic (It’s a lovely road to drive when it is free of other people using it) but the appalling conditions were hardly inspiring. I made it to Melton Country Park around 40 minutes before the off. Already the small car park was nearly full (They’ve been allowed to use the local college car park to accommodate the masses) but I was lucky to get a spot and soon took refuge from the wind and rain outside the nearby Visitor Centre. The first person I spoke to turned out to be the first woman to finish. I think she had run the trial event a week earlier and pointed out the rough direction of the course. Keen to do a warm up I went on a reconnaissance lap as best I could given there were no marshals on course yet. What was immediately apparent was that the wind was going to make conditions very difficult and that the going underfoot was going to be challenging, with numerous deep puddles and several muddy patches on a course that combined sections of gravel, dirt and asphalt.

Two miles later and the warm up was done. The calves were a little less tight than they were (Which was fearsomely tight) and I felt keen to get going. It would be the first time I’d run in anger since the Robin Hood Half Marathon back in September and I was keen to know what condition I was in. I met up with a couple of guys from Grantham Running Club, I even met a friend of Kenilworth Runners on the start line. What was immediately apparent lining up is that the enthusiasm for the event, being held in conditions that would rightly put off most, was high. It turned out there were 268 finishers – a fantastic number for an inaugural running. Mercifully for the runners the rain stopped just before the beginning of the run – all they had to contend with now was a gale force wind.

After the briefing and subsequent re-briefing concerning matters that had been forgotten about in the initial briefing, we were given the 3-2-1 and we were off. On poor terrain the start was less frenetic than is customary at these parkruns. I found myself just outside the top five when the courses only real trouble spot caused, for the first few runners, some trouble. To cross the lake there is a narrow wooden bridge which, as the runners approached, was occupied by a gentleman with at least two large dogs. Alarmed by the sight of 270 odd runners hurtling towards him, he made his best efforts to vacate the bridge, but hadn’t quite done so by the time we got there. The lead runners had to slow to a virtual stop; the leader got a couple of muddy paws around his midriff by means of a friendly hello from one of the weighty quadrupeds. Thankfully no harm was done to animal or runners and we continued straight to another unexpected obstacle in the form of a former railway bridge to run under which was a good 30cm deep with water. I expect such things in cross country races, to have my feet soaked in such a manner this early in the morning was not in the plan.

Straight from the foot soaking we were thrown straight into the course’s tough little climb, which Strava reckons averages 6%. Today though it was made somewhat easier by a 30mph+ wind blowing us up it. A sharp right at the top and there was a long gentle descent made tougher by a fearsome crosswind. I settled into a pace that felt comfortable. I wasn’t fancying a flat out run, I was more concerned with making it to the finish in one piece. I was lying seventh and was content, for today with that.

After the gradual descent came a sharp right hander and down a fairly steep decent which almost became the slowest part of the course given the headwind that was trying its hardest to blow us back up the hill. The path degenerated into a narrow continuous puddle before a small bridge took us onto the main part of the park, which was happily properly drained and on wide concrete paths. The end of the lap saw a tough section into the headwind, then some poor conditions underfoot akin to cross country which saw me lose a position to a local runner more keen than I to do well.

The second lap was uneventful. I maintained the gap to the two runners ahead of me and began to close them down in the final stages of the run. That in itself was satisfying. I was as strong at the finish as I was at the start – not as quick as I would have liked but I have to remind myself that I’ve only been back running for two weeks after more than two months out injured.

I passed a runner to take seventh on the final drag before an unconvincing sprint to the finish where there were some lapped back markers to content with. I’d barely looked at my watch, which is unusual for me. It read 18:55 which was satisfying under the circumstances, but hard to gauge what that actually represents in terms of where I am at given the conditions were so difficult.

After seeing my GRC club mates finish I set off on a 3.5 mile warm down, which saw me do a loop round near the town centre. It was a slow affair, the calves now throbbing with tightness and the pelvis aching a fair amount too. I was pleased though that there was no problems in the back / hip area. I am still running in a constant fear that something is going to go wrong again, so putting in three quickish miles is a good confidence booster in that respect.

Tomorrow, weather permitting, it is off to the cycling club for another reliability ride. Hopefully the legs will recover a bit, otherwise it’s going to be a hard slog!

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Notts AC 5 Mile Road Race–Wednesday 23rd July 2014

After the calm prediction of a personal best the night before, I woke on race morning alarmed to find I could barely walk. Not struck down with flu or any viral malaise, instead the tops of both hamstrings were unfathomably tight.

I thought long about what could have caused this bizarre turn of events and concluded it was almost certainly the dynamic forward lunges I’d done as part of the Strength and Conditioning program in the morning the day before. Although at the time they felt fine, I imagine they’d just strained some muscle fibres enough to give this overnight reaction. I should have known better, similar afflictions have struck me twice before when doing these lunges – I just shouldn’t do them, especially the day before a race.

For the best part of the day I really didn’t think I’d be able to race. I went out at midday for a one mile new trainer foot pod calibration / fitness test. The trainers (A new pair of Nike Lunar Racer) felt great; the legs less so. It wasn’t a showstopper couldn’t run at all affair, more a I can really feel this and it doesn’t help with the running issue.

I spent the rest of the afternoon fretting over whether to run. I began to prepare at 5pm to leave at 5:30pm. At 5:35pm I decided I wasn’t going, when my wife texted me to wish me good luck. It was then I decided the very least I could do was go along, warm up, and see what happened. If it didn’t feel good I wouldn’t race, I’d sit back and enjoy the others run whilst I enjoyed the sunshine.

And so I left for Nottingham, enjoying the glorious weather in the car that would not make for quite so idyllic racing conditions, with temperatures still in the mid twenties Celsius and a blustery breeze that would slightly cool, but slow us too when exposed.

I arrived in good time, happening to park just ahead of the start line. I changed into my running kit, gently stretched the hamstrings and began to run. Slowly. A slow shuffle with both hamstrings not wanting to work and only wanting to hurt. After a couple of minutes I stopped to use the official race toilets – inside the Riverbank Bar & Kitchen. It was a little surreal to see a stream of runners using the facilities of what is quite a swish establishment, certainly the first time at a race I’ve got to wash my hands using cocoa butter enriched hand wash.

Whether that luxury hand wash permeated its magic to my hamstrings I doubt, but when I began running again, the hamstrings were a little less tight. For the warm up I ran most of the 2.5 mile loop that formed the course. After a mile I began to do some strides and surges and the legs felt as though they would cope. The race was on! I also noted that the return leg along the Victoria Embankment saw the headwind grow and grow in intensity as we curved around towards the finish line. Something to note for the race which would commence in twenty minutes time.

I was very relaxed at the start line, as though all the pre-race angst had been used up many hours earlier when I was fretting over whether to race. A little humour ensued as a credit card was found at the start line, a relieved member of BRAT sheepishly came up to retrieve his plastic from the race starter, declaring that post race drinks would very much be on him. I lined myself up next to what looked like the strongest ladies in the race and a gentleman who looked like he was determined to be up front for the first 200 meters at least before the inevitable severe and prolonged fade for the remaining 4.8 miles.

The starting pistol fired and we were off. As predicted some went off too exuberantly. I was steady but not slow, the hamstrings still a little tight but thankfully loosening off all the time, so that after 2-3 minutes of racing they were hardly a factor. The race, which was relatively small with just under 200 starters, was soon strung out and I found myself quite quickly running alone, albeit with runners not too far in front of me and behind. The first mile took us out on a loop away from the Embankment and then back on it. I went through the first mile on the watch in 5:25 – just a second quicker than at the Summer Solstice the month previous. I felt strong to the turning point half a mile or so later, where we headed down onto the footpath by the River Trent and enjoyed the support of the local fishermen and other hecklers – albeit the heckles were mild in tone and arguably supportive.

I knew this was a crucial point in the race. I was running alone but around 20 meters ahead was a group of five runners. If I could catch them in the next couple of minutes I could sit in the pack and take shelter for the 3/4s mile or so when there was the testing head wind. A short burst of sub five minute mile running and I was in the pack. I felt good, it was tempting to push on as I felt the pace was not quite as I could have managed, but I figured the shelter from the wind and the energy saved could probably result in bigger gains later on in the race.

And so I sat at the back of the pack whilst a pair of well built athletes provided an excellent wind break. The pace inevitably dropped, for a short period we were running at around six minute miles, but I kept calm and stuck with the plan. Mile two I went through in 5:29, the average pace for the third mile slipped to 5:45 as we completed the first lap and turned 180 degrees to begin the second.

Without hesitation I picked up the effort and the group disintegrated around me. I left them and pushed on closing down rapidly on my old friend from Coventry Godiva Harriers, Namir Batavia. I first raced with Namir back in the 2008 Coventry Half Marathon when he was clearly a talented, but very inexperienced, young runner. He stuck in my mind because he would furiously sprint up all the hills during the race, then slow to a jog at the top, where I would catch him up and we would recommence racing together. I thought he’d have no chance of making it to the finish, but earned my eternal respect when he did, and beat me comfortably too. Since then we’ve both improved – he has posted some quicker times than me, especially at the start of the year, with a low 27 minute five mile race performance, so it was a big mental boost when I surged past him just before three miles.

Although the Garmin was a bit up on the official mile markers, I knew that with the 5:34 third mile and 5k on or around 17:00 minutes I was on for a good race. The wise words of a 15 year old I’d read about in Athletics Weekly at lunchtime rung in my head: the best races are always the ones that feel the easiest. This is so so true, and tonight was one of those races. It felt pretty easy. I knew by my heart rate that it was no picnic in the park, I was pushing pretty close to my maximum, but it felt comfortable.

Two more miles – ten more minutes or so – I thought, to a good time, so I pushed on again. I went through the fourth mile in 5:28 and as we turned at the top of the course for the second and last time to run back to the finish, I had the lead lady, Juliet Potter, around 10-15 seconds ahead of me. I’d have no chance of sheltering from the head wind on this second lap, it was just a case of giving it everything and minimising any losses. I focused on Juliet ahead and steadily reeled her in, catching her with around half a mile to go. I thought for a second about tucking in and recovering but felt it would be best to surge on ahead, going for a long sprint for home.

Juliet doubled her efforts and stuck close to me as the wind made the going tough in the closing stages. The five mile split came up on the watch (5:23) and we were some way from the finish. I wanted to know what elapsed time was but I kept missing it on my Garmin as it scrolled through its four pages of data (My choice, it wasn’t ideal today). Then I could make out the finishing clock as it read 27:20. The PB was assured, clocking a sub-28 performance wasn’t. I pushed on again as the seconds clicked by, the finish line taking forever to appear. Finally it did, I stopped the watch. 27:53 it read – a PB by 26 seconds! I shook the hand of Juliet, who came in just four seconds later, then waited for Namir to come home and a Grantham runner I’d seen from afar during the warm up.

I was obviously delighted with the PB but there was no real euphoric outpouring. More a contented punch of the fists, then on with business. I find that’s often the case with midweek summer evening races, the atmosphere is usually far more relaxed than at a weekend race. Races are run, runners disperse and head home.

I was surprised to find I finished eleventh, far higher than I expected to be. Then came the two mile warm down, where the hamstrings showed how tight they were – not enjoying in the slightest this final hurrah in the fading sunlight. Still I didn’t care too much – the gamble to race had paid off, another PB achieved, this one an unexpected surprise.

A good evening.

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Day 89 – Somebody Hit Me With The Stiff Stick

Now into day five of getting up in the middle of the night to cover the Australian GP and the body is finding familiarity in the routine. I managed four hours sleep during the night and then nearly three over lunchtime. I’m not what you would call wide awake and alert, but at least the soporific effects of enforced early middle-of-the-night shifts are a little less than in previous days.

I would have liked, then, for my run to feel a little easier than it did. From the off the legs felt really stiff and sore. The calves in particular, which have felt remarkably resilient in recent times, felt suddenly as though they had done eighty odd miles in the past six days. The first mile was a wince and shuffle affair, at least the sun was shining, albeit with a stiff breeze blowing.

I aimed to run ten miles; the main challenge of the run the climb at around three miles up Somerby Hill, which was greatly aided by having the wind firmly at my back. From then on, down to Little Ponton and then back into Grantham, it was a case of knocking out the miles, the relatively swift mile splits belying the lethargy dominating the legs.

I ended the run feeling as stiff as when I started, but comforted in the knowledge that, with one day of the week still remaining, I’e already, at 87.8 miles, knocked out a record mileage week. With a belated running of the Newton’s Fraction Half Marathon course planned for tomorrow, a century of miles for the first time ever looks a distinct possibility!

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Day 76–Very Cold, Very Wet, Very Windy

What a difference a day makes. Yesterday I was almost euphorically eulogising the joys of running. Cool but spring like conditions, fresh legs, good pace, no aches: bliss. Today whilst covering the final day of F1 testing, I watched the weather slowly deteriorate from blue skies and a breeze to heavy cloud and strong winds. Results from the morning’s half marathons and other races began to filter through – the wind was generally wreaking havoc with people’s racing ambitions.

I finally finished work at 5:30pm and headed out for a planned long run – the intent to run between 16-18 miles. Almost within seconds of leaving the house the first drops of rain of the day began to fall. Within a mile the rain was falling steadily and I’d turned into a fierce head wind. With light fading I just about made it to Barrowby (the only unlit section of the run) before total darkness. By now the I was running at or just below seven minute miles when the wind was behind me or a cross wind. I’d tentative plans of running the second half of the run at a quick pace, but the depressing weather put pay to those intentions – today was about getting around in one piece and knocking out the miles.

I ran around the houses and in extravagant loops to make up the distance By twelve miles the rain was hammering down and I was chilled to the bone. My left hamstring was tight and that was sending aches to the knee and the hip. The worst thing about the run was that I was only ever around two miles away from being home – the temptation to call it quits was great as I slowly began to lose feeling in my cheeks and fingers.

At just over 17 miles and with the rain turning into something approaching hail, I sacrificed the 0.8 mile I’d intended to run and called it a day, rushing into my home as quickly as possible. Totally soaked and fairly miserable, that was one of those runs that in the long run will mentally make me stronger and will help in the grand scheme of things fitness wise, but will not rank highly in my list of favourite runs.

A bit wet after my long run
A bit wet after my long run
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Day 69–A Little Frustration But Pleased With The Run

I set out for the run a little later than planned, watching the bobsleigh on TV and reading about the controversy over in America with Nike/USADA disqualifying a Brooks athlete in the ladies 3000m in frankly ridiculous circumstances. If I moaned a couple of days ago about short track speed skating not having an appeal process and some baffling decisions, then athletics took it to a new level with Alberto Salazar appealing the appeal of an appeal and eventually getting his way when some Nike people had a closed door meeting with USADA officials.

I thought briefly about burning my seven or so pairs of Nike trainers in protest, but thought the better of it for when push comes to shove, for my feet anyway, they make the best trainers on the market. I just wish they didn’t, allegedly, have such a questionable influence on the outcome of elite sport.

With that injustice out of the way I drove out to Somerby to follow a route known as the Old Somerby 19  based on a Strava upload from a club mate which I downloaded and eventually managed to get it uploaded to my watch (a process that took way longer than it should have). As the title of the run suggests it was 19 miles and I wanted to run something closer to 22 miles, so I began the run with a loop of Somerby, stopping to return to the car and discarding the gloves which, despite the strong wind, were not necessary as the temperature was a balmy 12C.

The first mile was 7:09, which is quick for me for an opening mile. The second was 6:42, then 6:43, and the fourth in 6:28. Regardless of whether the wind was helping me this was swift stuff so early in a run. It was reminiscent of an 18 mile run I did back in October when, similarly to today, I hit 6:38 after the second mile and was pretty much able to hold that fairly comfortably for the rest of the run. The next four miles confirmed I was in that kind of form: 6:37; 6:23; 6:39; and 6:37.

Then things briefly went awry. My Garmin 910XT has a known issue where, when following a course, it is horribly prone to repeatedly telling me I am off course and then back on course (When I never left the course in the first place), delays in refreshing the course line and, worse still, random power offs. Ever since that happened mid run last November I now make a point of checking the watch frequently to the point of paranoia. That was justified today as somewhere around 8.2 miles the unit powered off randomly. It turned back on, took a while to find satellites and I continued running, but something wasn’t right – the distance didn’t appear to be increasing and the route I was taking on the course map bared little relation to what I was actually running.

I made the decision to stop and stop the following of the course. This had the effect of resetting the mileage and elapsed time to zero, something it doesn’t usually do. I powered the watch off and on again, was relieved to see at least my run was stored in the history rather than disappearing into the ether, and recommenced the run. It was ultimately no more than an annoyance, but for flagship watch it is unacceptable and Garmin will be receiving a phone call in the morning. At the end of the day my old 305 could handle courses near perfectly and this more expensive watch handles them badly to the point of it being nearly broken.

The rest of the run went fairly quickly as my mind mulled over exactly what I would be saying to Garmin in the morning. There were a few tough miles when I turned to face the head wind, which almost at times had me stopping in my tracks. By and large though the pace was relatively consistent and the legs remained good, albeit with a little tiring in the closing legs, which is only to be expected. At 7.6 miles on the new run the watch powered itself off again. I kept cool, gave it a few seconds and turned the watch back on. This time I was able to recommence without having to create a third leg to this long run.

As I returned to Somerby the watch was showing around 12.5 miles on the second leg of the run. The maths wasn’t too great at this point of the run, but I reckoned I should do another lap of Somerby to ensure the run was over twenty miles and hopefully nearer 22. It ended at 13.3 (Half marathon completed in 1:28) which mean a total of 21.7 miles, both segments averaging 6:41. The pace was unarguably consistent

This also meant a new record mileage week of 86.5 miles, which came as something of a unplanned surprise. There were very few quick miles as I spent most of the week recovering from Stamford, but today’s run left me in no doubt that things are coming together very nicely – as long as I stay fit and healthy!