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Whissendine 6ix – Friday 5th July 2019

I had been looking forward to running the Whissendine 6ix (Six) mile race for some time – several years in fact. 2019 was the first year, I think, since moving to Grantham where there hadn’t been a Grand Prix on that weekend so I was able to make the short journey from Grantham to Whissendine for the Friday evening race.

The race marked the debut appearance for my Nike Vaporfly 4% race trainers. This hadn’t been intentional. Although I was curious as to their powers having seen many pro runners in them performing unbelievably and having been beaten by runners in races either wearing them or variants thereof, I had balked at the price of them considering the limited mileage they have before apparently falling apart.

By chance the day before Whissendine The Lincolnshire Runner posted on its Facebook page that they had been able to acquire a few pairs of Nike Vaporfly 4% and one of the sizes they had was mine (a 10). Not only did they have them in stock (A rarity indeed as they are usually only available in a select few outlets) they were selling them at £170, a significant saving on the RRP.

Normally you are just expected to comment on the post to secure your intention to purchase. I took no chances and was straight on the phone and giving them all my details with the promise that I would be there the following lunchtime to collect. The fact Lincolnshire Runner had them was particularly fortuitous as I had a fair amount of gift vouchers from them awarded as prizes in local races. Add to that cash I had also won and it meant that effectively I was going to pick these 195 gram wonders gratis.

As promised the following lunchtime, around seven hours before Whissendine, I was over in Lincoln in the running shop about to try on the shoes. As you are encouraged to whenever trying on a pair of trainers  there the sales assistant suggested I head outside and try them out along the high street. This I did. I took three steps and was sold. No need to push them any further. I could see straight away what all the fuss was about.

While in store I tried on some other shoes I was curious about. The Hoka Carbon X disappointed – they felt less zingy than my Cliftons. The brand new Hoka Rincons however felt great – I vowed to grab a pair when they inevitably come down in price a little. I also ended up buying a couple of pairs of heavily discounted Nike Frees of various vintage. They have for many years been one of my staple training and racing shoes and was pleased to have some pairs to replace my ageing models. With the addition of some new Goodr running sunglasses I was distinctly lighter in the pocket than I had planned but pleased with my purchases and itching to get racing in the 4%s!

I headed to Whissendine with my friend and training partner (bike especially) Stephen. He had, the previous week, completed the insanely hard Wasdale X Triathlon – an Ironman length triathlon held in the Lake District and without doubt the hardest triathlon in the country, if not Europe and the world! Having done brilliantly to finish well inside the top ten but having suffered badly with the heat of what turned out to be the warmest days of the summer, he was happy to just be supporting rather than competing.

Once in Whissendine and having worked out where the start and finish was in relation to the car park, I left Mr Hobday to his own devices exploring the village and its pub while I warmed up and killed a bit of time. I did the mile and a half long warm up in my Hoka Cliftons, my race shoe of the previous year or so and now a back-up to the Vaporfly’s which were to be saved for races only. The first steps in these shoes, other than walking to the start would be when racing! The warm up was unspectacular, the right Achilles needed plenty of stretching before it stopped becoming annoying.

The pre-race GRC photo. I’m wearing the reward of the last and only other six mile race I’ve done – the Stratford Summer 6.

Once back at the car park I gathered the GRC troops for a group photo and then went for one last comfort break before changing into the trainers. Feeling like no other trainer I’ve worn, I walked a little gingerly the 100 meters or so to the start line where I made small talk with several competitors – mostly discussing the weather, which at around 22C and sunny was pretty warm but for me, not an issue other than the (recently found, having been lost for nearly a year) GRC vest received a rare outing! Club mate Chris Limmer pointed out who he saw as my main threat – a 16 minute 5K runner who, as it happened, was also wearing the Vaporflys.

On time at 7:30pm we were sent, with little fanfare, on our way. Having discussed the race several times with another club mate Jonny Palmer (not racing this year, but who won the 6ix in 2017 having finished second a year earlier) he had urged me to start cautiously on the lightening fast downhill start for after around half a mile in the heart of the village the road kicked up for a stiff climb out of the village itself before heading out on an undulating loop with the bulk of the climbs between miles three and five miles before a quick downhill half mile to the finish.

I very briefly took the lead before team mate Chris took the helm and led a group of five us down towards the pub where Stephen was waiting with a load of other supporters basking in the pleasant warmth of the midsummer evening sun. The shoes felt great but, as the second placed finisher at Sleaford told me a mile or so into the race, they were going to take a little while to get used to, particularly the sensation that my feet could burst out of the flimsy fabric of the trainer at any second, especially as the laces felt a little looser than I prefer.

We slowed inevitably up the hill out of the village. I was happy to sit at the back of the group in fifth and make my way up the climb as economically as possible. We turned left not long after leaving the village for a spell of flat before a long descent. Chris lost the lead to the young runner who he had touted before the start of the race, and another runner who took on the pace and began to eke out a gap ahead of everyone else.

Passing the first mile in a solid, if unspectacular 5:38, my fears that the lace on the left shoe was actually coming undone proved unfounded and as we headed gradually downhill I found my feet, so to speak, in the new trainers and began to pick up the pace, passing Chris and another runner to move into third. The second mile may have been entirely downhill but I was encouraged to clock a 5:20 mile, the kind of split usually reserved for a  good mile in a 5K race.

Going into the third mile I passed the touted lad in the Vaporflies which confirmed my hunch that although the shoes were undoubtedly very fast, you still have to have someone doing the pedaling, so to speak. With the leader by now 15-20 seconds down the road I was content to finish second and just focused on running as well as possible. To my delight I actually found myself halving that gap as we hit halfway in 16:34 after a 5:36 third mile.

Taking a left turn I instantly recognised the road as the one I had driven along to get to the race and knew that it would be a test with a set of rollers to contend with. On the first climb I quite quickly closed and pulled alongside the leader. He said ‘Well done!’ and with that I pretty much knew that, barring disaster, the race was won. Without actually realising I pulled out a race winning gap on that climb, which was almost a mile long and saw a 5:45 fourth mile clocked. After a quick descent it was time for a second shorter, but steeper, climb. It was here where Stephen had come out to cheer me on, expecting me to be well up the order but not actually leading. He commented after the race how the ‘flys had made my running form look far more efficient, even on the climbs. All I was interested in was how big the gap was to second which he said was plenty. 

Running up that Hill… Alone and in first! Picture c/o Stephen Hobday

Heading back downhill and going through mile 5 in 5:33 I must admit I’d forgotten there was a final climb into Whissendine itself before the finish. I was tiring but the predicted finish time on my watch of 33:33 was scarcely believable! This meant around 34:30 for a ten KM when a month or so earlier at Whissendine I’d struggled to break 35 minutes on a flat course! It also represented an 82 second improvement on my six mile PB, set at Stratford way back in 2012.

With this quick time in mind and the stress of holding my lead diminished with the assurance of victory. I relaxed as I made my way to the top of the final hill and enjoyed the lightening fast descent to the finish just as Jonny promised. I crossed the line, hands aloft but barely out of breath in 33:33 – just as my watch had predicted earlier in the race and with a 5:30 final mile to close.

The first thing I did after the race, after stopping my watch and grabbing a cup of water to juggle with alongside the memento beer glass and unwanted beer was remove the Vaporflys! I was determined to not put an extra meter on them that wasn’t necessary! After some congratulations from the officials I was grabbed by a reporter from the local radio station who asked if i could be interviewed live. I reluctantly obliged and duly gave what must have been an excruciating spiel on what had just unfolded.

Heading back to the car after victory – saving the shoes for another day! Picture c/o Stephen Hobday

Keen not to embark on any more media relations I decided to head back along the course back to the car so I could change into my Hokas for a warm down before the prize giving. Taking it easy in only my socks I was given the hurry up via a phone call from Stephen who alerted me that the awards were going to be handed out without me!

Being presented with my winners’ glasses and back in the Hokas! Picture c/o Stephen Hobday
The wine has long since been drunk! Picture c/o Sptehen Hobday

I jogged back down to the finish just in time for the traditional prize of crystal cut glasses to be handed out. With that done and the end of race group GRC photo done there was little left to do but to head back to the car with Stephen and head home triumphant and very pleased with a most unexpected victory!

Grantham Running Club finishers at the end of the Whissendine 6ix. Picture c/o Stephen Hobday
The finishing glass and beer (Still not drunk)  – keeping the race winning Vaporflys company.
The sun setting on a successful day at the races.
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Peterborough Green Wheel Relay – Sunday 16th June 2019

After a few years of deliberating Grantham Running Club finally managed to enter a team into the Peterborough Green Wheel Relay – probably the most popular relay race in the region if you don’t include the 24 hour races or their ilk.

I was very much looking forward to  it having spent many years running or supporting the Cotswold Hilly 100 Relay Race which Kenilworth Runners made a highlight of their year and had come to dominate when I was a member. A mix of running and logistics means that not necessarily the quickest team will win (although they usually will). The pressures of ensuring everyone is present for their leg and runs the correct course means that surprises can happen.

The build up was not without its controversy. With only one (male) team entered I was keen to have the strongest possible set of runners taking part – I saw little point in giving up one of my infrequent spare weekends over the summer just to make up the numbers. Others within the club disagreed however, requesting it should be on a first come, first served, basis. In the end we put out a pretty strong team, probably as good as it could have been with the runners available and willing to take part.

My weekend wasn’t completely free of work, it being the Le Mans 24 Hour weekend. For this reason I requested I’d take the opening leg of seven – one of the longer legs at 8.4 miles. The plan was then for team captain Chris Limmer to drive me back to the start at the athletics track in Peterborough for me to ride out to the start of leg 4 where Chris was due to run and I would support him along the way (It is encouraged that runners have a support cyclist on each leg – but it was compulsory for legs four and six). Because of the cycling I was due to do and the tight timescale logistically I opted to race in my triathlon suit with a GRC vest stuck over the top.

A club taking the Green Wheel Relay so seriousy they bought the t-shirts!

Rather than all teams go off at once, the departure times were staggered based on predicted overall finishing times to try and ensure that teams finished at approximately the same time in the afternoon. I went off at 10:15am with two other teams. I think the first groups had gone off not long after 8am and the last groups (Mostly Helpston Harriers and their crack squad of teams) were due off at 11am. Kicking off with a lap of the track I soon pulled well clear of the other two runners and headed off alone out of the stadium for what was going to be a mostly very lonely 50 minutes or so of running.

A group starting off ahead of when I did.

The route was signposted and marked, in places well, in other places not so. I was taking no chances and had mapped out my leg to follow on my Garmin. The benefits of this were apparent when we came to a sharp left turn heading onto the River Nene where I saw a slower group heading straight on having missed the signs. Luckily they were able to hear me shouting ‘You’re going the wrong way!’

Green Wheel Relay direction markers. A better one.

With the wind blowing from the south luckily the two miles along the exposed river were no worse than a crosswind. When we made another sharp left turn off the river I was fortunate to have the wind mostly on my back for the remainder of the run up to Eye. The Garmin navigation was working well, however I’d had it set to auto zoom in and out which was proving problematic. I nearly always have it set zoomed right in to 200ft so as to make when to turn quite obvious. Garmin though had other ideas and would frequently zoom out to 0.5 mile which made such decisions far trickier.

Off the canal path I was briefly on a footpath before a tricky junction and onto a quiet fen land style road, where again I thanked my lucky stars I wasn’t faced with a headwind. My map page didn’t have HR so I was running to feel, I did know I was running reasonably well, averaging 5:50 or so per mile and feeling fairly comfortable.

Coming off the road onto a grassy footpath surrounded by crops I spotted my first runner since the opening stages of the run in the distance. Unfortunately coming to a ditch and a crucial turn they were a little too far in the distance to see where they had headed. As feared my Garmin map had zoomed out and, seeing no signs whatsoever, I opted to take a left before crossing the ditch. After around 20 seconds and spotting a footpath heading off over the other side of the water I realised I had turned crucially a few yards too early. Unable to cross without turning back I headed around and retraced my steps before taking the correct path. The whole mishap cost probably around 45 seconds.

Back on the correct path it was a case of making up for lost time as I turned right on to the main road into Eye, turning off the high street and handing over to Sam Jepson-Rivers for his less than half the distance of leg 1 leg 2. My time of 49:10 was the fourth fastest of the day, but four minutes slower than the slowest of the Helpston runners.

With barely a chance to catch my breath I jumped into Chris’ Mini and he drove us back to my car which was parked up back at the athletics track. He then headed off to the start of leg 4, I unloaded my race bike from the back of my car, took off the vest and replaced it with the compulsory hi-vis bib and headed off by bicycle to leg 4.

As I had mapped everything from my car to the end of leg 4 and back to my car onto my Garmin Edge this was a relatively straight forward affair. Well it was until the looming clouds in the distance became ever more imposing and, with around five miles still remaining to get to leg 4, the heavens opened with a thunderstorm of near biblical proportions. Not particularly well attired for such weather I struggled to stay warm as I cycled as best I could on the increasingly flooded paths and roads, trying to make out the way on my Garmin increasingly hard to read with all the raindrops on the screen.

I made it to the start of leg 4 with what I estimated around 10 minutes to spare. Soaked and cold but present and ready to cycle with Chris leg 4. There was just one issue – no sign of Chris! I did find Sam J-R who had driven on having completed leg 2 to pick up Peter Bonner, who was out on the course running leg 3. He hadn’t seen Chris. Between us we put out some distress signals via our Messenger group. After a couple of minutes came the bombshell from Chris that he had somehow got lost and wasn’t able to get to the start of leg 4 and would be heading home! Meanwhile we had Peter approaching us with no-one to hand over to!

At the time things were a little vague but it transpired Chris had opted to park up a few miles from the start of leg 4 and run there as a warm up. Somehow with all the rain and thunder he got himself lost and had ended up doing some form of circle back to his car. 

After a 1984 style two minutes of rage and confusion where Sam, Peter, some marshals and I, wondered what on earth was happening and what we could do, it was decided that Peter would continue running as best he could and Sam, having run around half of what Peter had, would take over later on in the leg when he had changed back into his running kit and caught us up in his car (Or maybe Peter’s – it had got quite complicated!). We weren’t totally convinced this was in the rules. We resigned ourselves to the possibility of being disqualified but reckoned that having made all the effort thus far and with three more runners waiting to complete their legs we should at least try our luck.

So Peter, having given 100% on his leg began again, lamenting the fact he had planned to race a 5K in the midweek and this was doing him no favours. I cycled for the most part just behind him or alongside him offering what encouragement I could.

A couple of miles into the leg and with some good fortune as it was the last opportunity to do so before we headed off on a footpath away from the main road, Sam arrived in the car ready to take over from Peter. The change-over was so swift it could have been rehearsed beforehand!

With Sam running as best he could I again did all I could to encourage, be it with liquid refreshment (It had by now stopped raining and with the sun shining become quite warm) or by sheltering him whenever we had a headwind. Understandably the novice runner tired significantly over the six or so extra miles he ran – the end of the leg never seemed to arrive as we wound ourselves into and through Ferry Meadows Park, but there was never any question of quitting.

Sam deep into his impromptu effort on leg 4.

Mercifully with around 200 meters left to run Peter popped out in front of us to let us know there was very little distance left to run. With one final sprint Sam handed over to Ian Williams who set off to make up for time lost in leg 4. Running late and with the Le Mans race about to finish I wasted no time in cycling back to the start practicing my rarely used cyclo-cross skills on the sometimes off-road cycle paths of Peterborough. Back at the car it was job done and the drive back home.

We ended up, despite all the drama, finishing a highly creditable third Men’s Senior team and fifth overall when a mixed sex Helpston team (Six men and one woman apparently…) and an ‘open’ team were taken into account. To date we haven’t been disqualified for our possible rule transgressions. Having thoroughly enjoyed the experience, despite everything, I very much hope the club can put forward at least one team in 2021 and beyond and perhaps, one day, target victory!

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Race Report – 2019 Lincolnshire Wellington Athletics Club 5K Series – May – July 2019

The previous few years have only seen me run the opening race of the LWAC 5K Series, held at Yarborough Leisure Centre in Lincoln in the final week in May. This year I decided to run as many of the four held over the summer, which turned out to be the first three races as I was just about away on holiday for the final race in August. I’ve clumped them all together simply because there wasn’t too much to say for each race!

Race 1 – Tuesday May 28th

The overriding memory of the first race was the biblical downpour that occurred just as I was arriving at the race venue, rain that fell during one of the supporting junior races and destroyed the paper results! The rain eased and stopped but it was still cold, warming up to only 10C before the race started and the sun attempted to make an appearance. I’d harboured intentions of taking part in the new supporting Memory Mile race but my heart just wasn’t in to a full out effort just thirty minutes before the 5K race so I opted to mill around for a bit, heading back and forth to the car deciding what to wear.

Racing in my tried and trusted Hoka Clifton 4s I made a typically cautious start as plenty of others around me went off a bit too fast. I sensed that I perhaps didn’t go off quite quick enough. A couple of minutes into the race I had the choice to pick up the pace and attempt to latch onto the group containing club mate Ian Williams or to stick with a smaller group which had at least some big guys I could shelter behind when facing the noticeable head wind. Lacking that killer instinct I went for the easy option and tucked in.

Tucking in behind a tall runner! Picture c/o Race Hosts LWAC

Once that decision was made it was a fairly routine race. I tucked in when there was a head wind and attempted to push the pace when we had a the wind at our backs. On the third and final large lap we began to close down the lead female runner and I targeted her as some kind of motivation to try and pick the pace up / keep it going. I don’t have much luck with my GPS watch at Lincoln, just as with my old model it had me down to finish in around 16:40 which I could tell by feel just wasn’t the case.

Trying to chase down Abbie Donnelly of Lincoln Wellington AC. Picture c/o Race Hosts. LWAC.

Finally for the final half mile I managed to put in some kind of effort heart rate wise that merited a a 5K race. I pulled clear of the group I had been running with and almost caught the winning woman but not quite doing so. Annoyingly my watch and the official timing clocked me at 17:00. Just one second off the sub 17 I’d wanted.

Passing over the 5K club record mantle to Ian!
Passing over the 5K club record mantle to Ian!

My mood was a touch downbeat afterwards. I felt I could have tried a bit harder and that for various reasons I was enjoying my cycling more than running. I had also a good spot to watch Ian slowly but surely disappear into the near distance en route to breaking my club 5K record with 16:33. Although I was genuinely happy for him there was the feeling that this was the day when my mantle as fastest runner in the club had been handed over to Ian. Part of me had always wanted this to happen as I have championed for years the need to bring in younger more talented runners than I to the club. The other part just wanted the glory to live just a little longer!

An amazing GRC turnout for a 5K race, enjoying the late evening sunshine after the downpours of earlier!
An amazing GRC turnout for a 5K race, enjoying the late evening sunshine after the downpours of earlier!

Race 2 – Tuesday June 25th

I’d every intention of taking part in the one mile race as well as the 5K at the second race of the LWAC Series. However the stop/start two mile warm up put pay to that idea. With legs feeling super stiff and the right Achilles aching like mad, I sacked off the shorter race and focused as best I could on the 5K.

Actually this focusing was more a case of relaxing and not particularly having any great ambition for the 5K race which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Wearing this time the Nike Frees that I’ve had for years and were coming to the end of their running life (now worn as the cross training shoe) My Achilles ached for the opening minute or so of the race but then, as often happens, ceased to be an issue as I settled into the race.

Starting steadily I soon opted for a game plan that consisted of making sure I was in a group to tuck behind whenever we were running into the significant headwind then push on and attempt to catch the group ahead when we had a tailwind. This worked well. The Garmin, as ever here, was hopeless at measuring the course accurately but did at least show that I ran the race with good progression – mile 1 5:24; mile 2 5:22, and mile 3 5:16. This tallied with how my heart race progressed nicely upwards: just 165 bpm at the end of mile 1 (Marathon HR); 173 at two miles (upper end of half marathon HR); and 180 BPM at the end of mile 3 (upper end of 5K HR).

If the Garmin had been accurate I’d be on for a big 5K PB. As it was I had another fifth of a mile to run, which I put in a bit of a sprint for knowing at least I had the chance of a sub-17 to bag. This I managed with a 16:54 clocking – my second fastest ever 5K and the best I’d felt over that distance save the 16:36 I ran back in 2015 at parkrun.

Although I was very pleased with my performance, it netted a poorer finishing position, coming home eighteenth compared to eleventh in the opening race and third V40 when I finished second in the first race. That was largely irrelevant though – it was the time I was interested in and I was happy with that!

GRC members at the finish of race 2. Picture c/o LWAC
GRC members at the finish of race 2. Picture c/o LWAC

Race 3 – Tuesday July 30th

This race did not go to plan but ended up with a result that I am pleased and proud of. Driving to Lincoln I knew that things weren’t quite right – my resting HR was 20 BPM up on what it normally is when I am driving. The warm up confirmed my doubts, feeling lethargic and lacking any zip which meant that, once again, I would not try my hand at the one mile race.

Indeed I felt so fatigued I very nearly didn’t race the 5K at all. In the end, sensing that this malaise was merely a repeat of how I felt when time trialing and exactly a year earlier and was most likely a bout of hay fever,  I decided to take to the start line. The special shoes though stayed in their box and instead I raced in the new Nike Frees that I had bought from The Lincolnshire Runner a few weeks earlier.

From the off it was a struggle. Team mate Joaquim Flash Jeronimo shot off into the distance at a pace I should have been able to match but simply couldn’t. The first mile my Garmin clocked at 5:33, the second 5:32. All I could muster was to slowly catch Flash up as we began the third and final lap. I knew that he was desperate to break 18 minutes but was beginning to struggle badly after his bold start.

Knowing I had no hopes of a quick time for myself I took it upon myself to help pace my Portuguese club mate as best I could to the finish. This consisted of regular verbal encouragement: “You’ve got this!” “No I haven’t – I’m finished!” was the most memorable communication between the pair of us. I also sheltered him from the wind that was, as usual, blowing across the course, carefully placing myself to the left, or right, or directly ahead when required to offer as much protection as I could.

With the third mile clicked off at 5:34 I told Flash I would start a gradual sprint to the finish and he should try his best to stick as close as possible. Picking up the pace a touch I crossed the line in 17:36, with Joaquim coming home five seconds later and twenty five seconds quicker than he’d ever run 5K before.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery! Flash walking off after a big PB!

I was delighted for Flash, one of the nicest and most enthusiastic club mates I have ever had, and proud to have been able to turn my off-day into something positive. As it turned out when race positions were considered it wasn’t that bad, finishing eighteenth again and second V40 (again).

I had tentative plans to take part in the final race in August, but I decided in the end to maximise my summer holiday away and missed it.

The post race GRC photo.

And that, for 5K in 2019, in Lincoln at least, was that!

 

 

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Race Report – Sleaford Half Marathon – Sunday 5th May 2019

Nearly a month had passed since the Manchester Marathon but all the indicators in the weeks in between suggested that it was taking a while to fully recover from the exertions in that race. I focused more on cycling than running through April, plenty of time on Zwift and a couple of club rides with Witham Wheelers. This was mostly because the sciatica issue in the left hamstring took around 10 days to fully disappear and then the less severe issue with the aching left hip took the best part of the month to subside to next to nothing. Coupled with a couple of runs where I got the weird quad ‘cramps’ that I’ve been afflicted with for years now, I don’t think I did any real speed work at all – save for one brick 5K run following a club ride where I bizarrely ran my fastest ever for the oft run loop (Averaging 5:53 per mile), despite having felt thoroughly exhausted for much of the week beforehand.

I went into the Sleaford Half Marathon with the knowledge that I had managed to finish second there in 2018 in very warm conditions in a pretty quick time. With much better conditions forecast and hopeful that I had more or less recovered from Manchester, I was cautiously optimistic that I could run a half decent time. The pre-race build up was wholly unspectacular, a mile and a half around the rugby pitches which were notable only for feeling a lack of zip and a bit of a snotty nose.

GRC before the start of the race. Picture c/o Gordon Geach

As I lined up for the 9:45 start, there was a bit of nervous chatter on the start line as one runner, who is best described as a novice who perhaps shouldn’t have been up on the start line itself, began happily asking everyone around them what time they thought they would run. I said I wouldn’t mine running around 1:16 but I was tired from Manchester. This prompted a guy in some form of Nike Vaporflys to state that he too had run Manchester, had gotten a PB of around 2:36 and was looking to run a 1:13 PB today at Sleaford. It turned out that was Wayne Lathwell of Lincoln Wellington AC, who when the starting horn was fired, looked true to his word and set off at a pace that was certainly unattainable, let alone unsustainable for me.

With Wayne off into the distance and indeed heading to a 1:13:11 PB which secured a comfortable victory, within half a mile I found myself in joint second place with a runner I recognised having competed against numerous times before – Stephen Dickens of Rushcliffe AC. I had a quick glance around and found that we already had a sizeable gap over the nearest runners, perhaps as much as twenty seconds. I knew then that, barring disaster, second or third position was on the cards.

The first mile was spot on what I’d hoped for at 5:40. Half a mile or so late, feeling comfortable and, to be honest, a little bored in the race already, I began chatting to Stephen – something I very rarely do in races. I commented on his trainers, recognising them to be the Nike Vaporfly 4%s, and asked how he felt they performed. He explained that he was still getting used to them. He’d run a 5K in them the week before and said they felt quick but odd.

A little while later as later as we climbed the biggest ascent of the race (A bridge heading over the A17) it became clear that Stephen had got used to his Vaporflys as he began to slowly, but inexorably, disappear into the distance. Powerless to go with him, I resigned myself to a long lonely run to the finish. There was no-one behind me as far as the eye could see so all I had to motivate me to keep the effort going was the prospect of a quick time and a good age grade at an event that was a round of the club’s Grand Prix Series.

The remainder of the race was, frankly, dull. I ran the opening 5K in 17:45, slowed slightly to 17:56 through the second 5K and slowed a little more to 18:10 for the third 5K. I was struggling a little bit on three counts: 1. I felt still a little jaded from Manchester. 2. The winds, although not strong, were troubling in an area on the edge of the Fens. 3. My stomach was cramping alarmingly, perhaps the result of a short return to to experimenting with taking on beetroot juice before a race (I’d also tried this at Retford).

Happy at 9.5 miles that I wasn’t going to be caught by anyone, I opted to dive through a hedgerow and have an emergency pit stop on an edge of a field. I think I only lost 25 seconds or so, returning to the race vowing to never take on beetroot juice before the start of the race again. Feeling more comfortable I ran the final 5K in 18:15 (Sub 18 removing the pit-stop) crossing the finish line third in 1:16:22.

At the time I was pretty disappointed with this – it was around the same time (If you remove time taken by the side of the road) as in 2018 but conditions then were far worse. I think in tip top shape with good weather this is as quick a half marathon course as anywhere in the region and it’s a bit of a mystery why so relatively few runners take part in the race. I got to chat to Stephen at the end of the race who had set a new PB of 1:15:30 and he reckoned that the Vaporflys were worth at least a minute over the half marathon. Given that Wayne too had flown (Albeit I don’t think he was rocking the all singing and dancing model) and I’d seen also Vince at Manchester and elsewhere, plus Jonny Palmer of Bourne/GRC break 2:40 at London a week earlier, both do wondrous things in these shoes, I pretty much decided then that it was time for me to join the arms race and look to get a pair of carbon shod shoes.

Me and Tony Johnson with trophies at the Sleaford Half Marathon.

Content that I was the winner of the non-Vaporfly race by two and a half minutes, I hung around for the presentation, a touch disappointed that third place wasn’t rewarded quite as well as they had been in 2018. A quick photo with the incredible Tony Johnson, who won his age category with his highest ever age grade a week after going sub-3 at London, and it was time to head home, where bizarrely I opted to totally exhaust myself by doing a 35 minute full gas TT on Zwift, which left me wondering afterwards whether I could have pushed just a bit harder a few hours earlier…

 

 

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Race Report – Greater Manchester Marathon – Sunday 7th April 2019

Prerace 

Despite Manchester from Grantham being comparable distance to Grantham to London I’d decided fairly early that I wasn’t going to travel on the morning of the race to Manchester from home. I balked at the idea of paying large amounts of money for a hotel room so opted, for the first time, to use the family caravan to stay close to the race and then stay up in the Manchester area with the family for a few days as the race was taking place during the Easter holidays.

We were staying at a Caravan and Motorhome Club site in Bury, which is in the outskirts of the Greater Manchester district and, crucially, on the tram network that I planned to use to get to and from the race. We left for Bury on the Saturday morning and was immediately grateful for Richard at Grantham Leisure Ltd who was able to immediately identify a terrible sounding (but actually relatively harmless) issue with our tow bar that hit us when setting off on our journey that was remedied with some sand paper and brake cleaner that he very kindly let us keep at no cost.

That drama out of the way the journey to Bury was straightforward enough. The site was pleasant enough, set in Burrs Country Park with constant reminders of the area’s industrial past, including a steam train running on a line just behind our caravan, which bought great boyish pleasure! Once set up and lunch eaten most of the afternoon was spent relaxing as much as possible.

Idyllic caravan scene

My pre marathon meal of choice is pizza, which isn’t so easy to cook in the caravan so was relying on takeaway. After googling for Bury’s finest pizza establishments I settled on my first ever Domino’s Pizza. I was impressed with the app and collection procedure; less impressed with the actual quality of the pizza and that they are still texting me six months later in the feint hope I may actually use Domino’s Bury while living in Grantham. I washed the pizza down with a small glass of white wine – the habits of caravan lifestyle proved too hard to resist.

The rest of the evening was spent playing the usual parlour games we play with the kids in the caravan before heading to bed at around 10pm. The beauty of staying in the caravan was that, so long as the weather was not biblically bad, I was almost assured a good night’s sleep in a familiar bed – something that I rarely get when staying in a hotel room.

I woke at around 5am and let the legs slowly come to life as I made the short walk to the site’s washroom facilities. I was sure I’d be the only one who’d hatched the same accommodation plan for Manchester but there were at least two or three others who clearly had the same intentions. After a breakfast of 5 small cereal bars washed down with a large mug of black coffee I got the wife to drive me the couple of miles or so to the main tram stop in Bury. The plan was for her to return back to the caravan for a bit before getting a later tram with the kids to watch the race at various points alongthe course.

Again for some reason I was sure that I would be the only one racing at Manchester who would consider getting a tram from Bury but as it turned out there were already many runners on the platform waiting for the first tram to depart at around 7am. They were mostly from local clubs, mostly far too enthusiastic for six something in the morning, but at least the platforms were not as busy as they are when trying to get to the start of London at Blackheath.

Busier than I expected at Bury Station!

The tram journey took around 45 minutes, including a change in the heart of Manchester when I met Jack Dodwell of GRC, who was racing, and his father, who had driven them from Grantham that morning. Once off the second tram it was a few minute’s walk before we came to the boulevard of Portaloos where I stumbled upon quite a few of the other GRC contingency who were taking part in the race. It was then on to drop off the bag at baggage near the finish line. By now the time was around 8:30 and not too long left before the 9am start. There was time for a quick photo with around half the GRC runners before I made my way to the start.

On one of the last unofficial toilet stops I happened to bump into Vince Riviere who I’d first met at the Leeds Abbey Dash. He’d gone on to have quite a winter with a string of great races including a brilliant low 2:37 at the Valencia Marathon. We wished each other well and I dreamed of whether it would be my day to break 2:40 for the first time.  Working my way through the crowds of runners starting from slower pens, I finally got to the front pen with around ten minutes to spare. I found somewhere where you could lighten the load in relative privacy (albeit with a load of other runners doing the same thing) one last time before making my way to the start line. I looked up to the skies and blessed the weather gods for providing pretty much perfect conditions – cloudy skies, a light easterly breeze and temperatures maxing out at around 11C. I could conjour up plenty of excuses for a poor performance, the weather couldn’t be one of them!

The Race

As the final countdown began and the pre-race nerves around me became almost unbearable it was with great relief that the starting horn was sounded dead on time at 9am.  Despite the large numbers running we were able to run unrestricted from the off and some around me clearly were going off way too fast, almost totally out of breath in the opening couple of minutes. Despite swathes of runners coming past me I stuck as closely as I could to the game plan of max 150 bpm for the opening mile, 155 bpm for mile two, 160 bpm for mile three and a maximum of 165 bpm to twenty miles.

This deliberately easy start meant I felt like I was chomping at the bit, which was potentially a good sign as sometimes the opening miles can feel quite laboured. The opening mile was 6:34 which I hoped would be by far the slowest mile of the race. Mile 2 was 6:15 and  I went through mile 3 in 6:09, which coincided with the course completing its mini loop east before heading southwest towards Stretford, Sale and Altrincham before heading back to the start via Urmston.

The fourth mile was the first where I allowed myself the luxury of getting to 165 bpm and I was pleased to clock a 6:01, which was right at the top end of what I thought I might be able to hit after all the weeks of training at marathon heart rate. Better was to come in mile five when I ran a 5:58 (the fastest of the race) before I ran 6:05 for mile 6. Thereafter the splits to mile 20 were very consistent with only nine seconds covering the quickest (6:00 – mile 13) and the slowest (6:09 – mile 12). The difference in these two miles could be explained in that we climbed the biggest ‘hill’ of the race (no more than a bridge over a railway) in mile 12 at Altrincham and came down in mile 13.

Around mile 8 of Manchester Marathon – looking happy!
Picture c/o Dean Riggall.

Given the consistency of mile splits you may be forgiven for thinking it was plain sailing. Alas this was not the case. All was well until around that bridge at 12 miles. I’d already seen my family out once on the course at around eight miles and taken the first of three gels (SIS that I was using in a race for the first time). Without warning I felt a sharp pain in my left hamstring. At first I thought it was cramp but the pain disappeared as soon as it came. Anxious I wasn’t in the mood for high fiving the Altrincham football club mascot as I passed the family for the third and final time before the finish. Indeed the family were worried I might punch him as he generally got in runners’ way – I was very restrained under the circumstances!

I got through the convoluted Altrincham loop – complete with odd run through what looks like the back of a Boots car park without drama and was hoping that the pain in the hamstring was a one off as I passed through halfway in just outside eighty minutes. However at the next left turn where crowds were perhaps at there biggest, I felt a sharper, longer more sustained pain in my left hamstring. This forced me briefly to a slow jog and, assuming it was cramp, I was already wondering whether it would be a good time to consider dropping out of the race.

Mercifully almost as quick as the pain came on it disappeared entirely. This led me to make some quick assumptions that it wasn’t cramp, wasn’t a muscle pull or tear and was almost certainly some kind of sciatica similar to what had struck my calf muscle at the Retford Half Marathon.  Considering I had slowed for a period mile 14 wasn’t nearly as disastrous as I feared clocking, 6:07. The mind has a neat way of blocking out painful episodes from the memory bank so I can’t recall how often I suffered a repeat of the sciatica pains, but I estimate I had a couple more in mile 15, then perhaps two or three more up to around mile 18. They must have been still troubling me at mile 17 as there was a photo of me uploaded to Facebook shouting at fellow GRC runner and spectator at the race due to injury Dean Riggall that I was suffering from Sciatica.

Mile 17 – Moaning about the Sciatica….
Picture c/o Dean Riggall.

The follow up bursts of discomfort weren’t as severe as the blast of pain that had forced me to slow, indeed they barely caused me to slow at all, they served more to not have me push on quite as much as I perhaps could have, the heart rate veering closer to 160 bpm than 165. One other precautionary tactic was that on all the remaining ninety degree corners, of which there were plenty on this course that uses a lot of residential streets, I made sure I took a very wide, cautious line through the corner, using plenty of road and trying not to force any sharp turns. This may have added a few extra meters per turn but I sensed it would perhaps help minimise any further distress to the leg.

By mile eighteen nearly four miles had passed since the bad pain and I was gaining a little more confidence that I was able to make it at least to the finish. The mile splits were still good, hovering just over six minutes a mile. It was around here I made an adjustment on my Garmin’s race pacer to allow for the distance creep that had built in compared to the official distance markers. The news was positive, I was on course to run just outside 2:40 – a PB was on the cards and if I could muster something special perhaps, just perhaps a sub 2:40 was possible.

The twenty mile marker is a key moment in any marathon, it’s where a race begins if you abide to the famous maxim a marathon is a twenty mile steady run with a 10K race at the end. It’s where at many marathons the crowds are at their deepest and most enthusiastic. At Manchester it coincides with where the race becomes, for a mile or two, its most rural and most sparse in terms of support. For some this is a bit of an issue, to be honest it doesn’t really bother me too much, I quite enjoyed being able to focus on the task in hand of getting to the finish as quick as possible.

Reasonably content that the dodgy leg wasn’t going to get any worse I guzzled down the third and final gel (A double espresso one, which I felt certainly gave a good buzz) and put the gas down at 20 miles as per the best case scenario race strategy. This simply meant I abandoned the 165 bpm max limit and attempted to run as at high a BPM as the body will allow me.

Most times I find this unattainable, today was one of those rare races where I was able to increase the HR to between 166-169 bpm. Having set an alert for the race on my Garmin to let me know when I had exceeded 165 BPM I had planned to switch this off fearing the nagging beep and buzz would get annoying. As it happened the opposite happened and I found the alert a reassurance that I was still able to push the effort.

Because the body was, by now, pretty fatigued the reality was that I wasn’t getting any quicker even with the extra BPM, but crucially I was able to more or less maintain the same pace I’d run the previous seventeen miles at. Three consecutive 6:06 miles saw me pass a lot of runners, many of whom were beginning to see the wheels well and truly fall off.

Mile 23 saw a little blip in the pace as it dropped to 6:14, but this mile contained a quite noticeable climb for part of the mile. Having had no repeat of the sciatica since around mile 18 I’d by now all but forgotten the injury and was giving it everything I could, concentrating on picking off runners and trying to keep my predicted finish time as quick as possible.

Mile 24 was pleasing at 6:03, with mile 25 much the same – another 6:06. The final mile is a bit marmite – some love the ability to see the finish line from nearly a mile away, I found it a bit annoying as it never seemed to get any closer. It became more annoying as I had a runner in front of me who saw fit to have a couple of his friends recording him from a bicycle that was sheltering him from the wind. As I passed him his friends urged him to stick to me and kick past at the finish. This made me doubly determined to ensure it didn’t happen!

A screen grab of the finish at Manchester. Looking suitably worn out!

More annoying still was a giant screen that showed the finish line that from a distance looked just like it was the finish until you realised there was another slight right turn and around a third of a mile to the finish. This produced a protracted and painful attempt at a sprint finish as I made my way to the finish line. I crossed the line tired, but happy in 2:40:47.

With my medal!

I was delighted to break my PB by nearly a minute and set a new club record; a little frustrated that without the sciatica issues there was every chance I could have broken that 2:40 barrier. I must have recovered quite quick as I was soon having a good old chat with the winner of the women’s race, who had set a big new PB. Then collecting my bag a few minutes later I bumped in again with Vince, who had clocked another sub 2:40 time despite suffering a fall and inflicting damage to his Vaporfly 4%s. I looked longingly at his shoes wondering what I may have achieved if I were wearing those rather than my tried and trusted Hoka Cliftons….

With the race done, medal collected, and repatriated with the family, it was just a case of getting the tram back to the Caravan site, treating it as a badge of honour of sorts that I was at the station at the same time as Steve Way, who had collected a considerable number of fans asking his opinion of the race.

Post race ‘Champagne’ in the caravan.

Once back at the Caravan I wasted no time in fulfilling a promise I’d declared on Facebook that I would be back cooking chicken on the barbecue and drinking sparkling wine by 2pm. By 10pm and some drinks later and plenty of hours sitting in a caravan, the hamstring sciatica had turned into a full on case of a locked hip so painful that I almost had to ask to be picked up in the car when I couldn’t get back from the toilet block to the caravan!

Post marathon barbecue by 2pm as promised. The chicken came later….

The next couple of days were spent recovering and enjoying Manchester. I managed a fairly short exploratory run on the Wednesday morning before heading back home – seemingly with no lasting damage done to the left leg.

Having run it twice now (Once in the infamous short course days) I would certainly recommend Manchester as a great alternative marathon to London – it’s flatter, has less crowd support (Which is a perverse positive) and coming early in April is more likely to have cooler conditions. I enjoyed the pre-race caravan experience so much I have decided to do something similar if I take part in the 2020 London Marathon.