Posted on

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!

 

 

Posted on

Race Report – Leicestershire Half Marathon – Sunday 17th February 2019

The second race of 2019 was the first of two planned half marathons I’d booked ahead of the Manchester Marathon. They were both rounds of the GRC GP Series, but this race I had always earmarked as the one where I would run the vast majority at my planned marathon heart rate. Therefore I went into the race with low expectations on time and finishing position. Those were even lower in the days leading up to the race when, after a month of solid training, I was struck down with a short flu like illness the weekend before which had me not running for the best part of five days and on my return feeling distinctly sub-par to the extent that I bailed on the Thursday night club run at seven miles when running at 8:12 pace proved too challenging.

I’d not run the first edition of the Leicestershire Half Marathon. I’d heard mixed reviews regarding the course (and the wind especially) but was willing to give it a try. Taking place at Prestwold Hall near Loughborough, the race makes full use of the racing / test circuit on the grounds that ensures traffic-free roads for much of the race. Thankfully to break the monotony the race does break free from the grounds to run on regular roads (And a farmers’ track!) for the middle third of the race before returning to the grounds for the final third. As I’ve run most of the Formula One circuits many times in my previous lifetime as an F1 jet-setter I am well used to running on wide open circuits which to some are pretty boring, but for me will always be something of a thrill – even if this circuit has little in the way of heritage.

Having arrived over two hours before the start and having made myself familiar with the start, I performed a wholly unremarkable two mile warm up on part of the circuit. Conditions were set fair for the race, sunny and pleasant for racing at around 8C. Only a breeze, stiff in places, would hinder progress although, it should be said, it was nothing compared to what I had faced at Oundle a few weeks earlier. After the calamity of the Nike Free’s laces coming undone in that 10K race I was back in my trusted Hoka Cliftons, albeit in a new pair of Clifton 4s that I had only run in a couple of times before and, if all went, well would be reserved as a race pair rather than doubling up for training runs.

I lined up a couple of rows back from the start, keen not to get swept up in the melee from the gun. Having heard that the favourite for the race had run 66 minutes a week earlier in Spain I knew this wasn’t ever going to be a race I was in contention of winning but my mind was purely set on seeing how quick I could go with the restriction of running at my marathon heart rate limits.

The start, outside Prestwold Hall itself, is a curious affair on fairly deep gravel, with a couple of tight turns before heading on a tree lined road that takes you out to the main entrance. I think I was probably just inside the top twenty at this point, spending more time checking the heart rate on the watch than who was around me. We briefly left the grounds and ran on a closed public road for a few hundred meters before returning to the grounds alongside the disused air strip that had been turned into our car park for the race.

The opening mile was pleasing at 6:04 considering I’d been able to keep the HR well below my limits and it had featured a short climb. I felt a little stiff but with certainly none of the ill effects of being unwell the weekend before. The second mile saw a 5:56 and the heart rate creep up to the maximum of 165 bpm. With my old Garmin watches I’d always turned off the HR alerts as I found them intensely annoying beeping constantly the moment you exceed the limit until you returned to normality. The 935 (and I imagine many of the other similar more recent models) does it a little differently in that it appears to give 20-30 seconds grace when a HR limit is exceeded before beeping and vibrating once with a warning showing you what your heart rate currently is before returning to the usual screen and only beeping again 30 seconds or so later if the HR is still high. This for me was quite tolerable and beneficial in that I didn’t have to be spending quite so much time staring at my watch checking I hadn’t veered into the red.

Somewhere along the course!

From miles 3-11 it was a case of running as close to but trying not to exceed 165 bpm. It felt quite weird that I was paying no attention to who I was racing around me. If I caught someone but the alarm went off I slowed until the HR recovered and I resumed racing. Without even realising it I had passed quite a few runners but had no real idea where I was in the race as the field was pretty spread out. I enjoyed the route on the racing circuit, even if the route was a little convoluted at times. As we were changing direction fairly frequently we weren’t exposed to the headwind for too long a period, which helped keep the pace fairly consistent. Miles two to five were 5:56, 5:54, 5:55, and 5:57.

The fifth mile was partly along the aforementioned farmers’ track. Rough and uneven it was thankfully dry and compact – it would have been really tricky had it been wet and muddy. We left the grounds for the run down to Wymeswold and then up to Hoton and back to Prestwold. This was enjoyable enough, mile six (6:03) was one of the slowest of the race as it featured a climb and I was forced to slow when the HR crept up. With that inconvenience out of the way it was back to pleasingly swift sub six miles – 5:56, 5:55, and 5:58 for miles six through to nine. At around eight miles we were back at Prestold Hall being taken once again on a magical mystery tour of the multi faceted venue, passing an HGV driving school, and a solar panel farm frequented by sheltering sheep before returning to the race track we had run on earlier in the race.

Mile 10 at 6:10 was the slowest of the race, purely because most of the mile had been run into the headwind. I was helped here a touch by catching another runner who I was able to shelter behind before pulling clear as best I could when we turned a corner and was free from the headwind. Mile 11 was back to sub six with a 5:55, then 5:50 for mile 12 as I caught and passed another runner.

The final mile I decided to abandon the HR limits and run as hard as I could. The reasoning twofold – firstly to simulate the final 10K of a marathon where I also abandon HR limits and secondly because my watch had me coming in just outside 78 minutes and I decided sub 78 sounded a whole lot nicer. With the extra few beats of power available I powered to a 5:40 final mile and a 5:06 final burst to the finish line (Which was hard work on the gravel!). The finishing time: 1:17:44. Finishing position – no idea!

Crossing the finish line sub 1:18!

Aside from a smarting big left toe (Which all but seized up when I got home – turned out to be a problem with the shin) the run had gone far better than expected, and with all but the final mile at marathon HR was most encouraging for Manchester in six or seven weeks time. I sensed that I felt pretty comfortable for the entire race and that something at that pace was potentially feasible for the full 26.2 miles.

With the marathon in mind I went on an extended 5 mile warm down to make it 20 miles for the day. I ran some of the course again catching up with some of the GRC contingency who were taking part and still running. I felt comfortable right until the final half mile when I felt compelled to take on one of the peanut butter gels they handed out at the finish and, as I tried to prise the peanut butter from the roof of my mouth for several minutes after, soon realised why peanut butter gels hasn’t really caught on as a concept.

With the warm down done I headed back to race venue to see the last of the GRC runners in. It was there I was informed that I had wound up finishing eighth overall and first V40 runner! I genuinely had no idea I had placed so highly and was pretty chuffed with myself, especially as I hadn’t focused on the race element at all.

With eight of the GRC crew outside Prestwold Hall after the race.

I had missed the prize giving, or maybe it didn’t happen. The prize was a little underwhelming – free entry to the 10K race taking place at the same venue in October. I’m half tempted – some really didn’t like the course at all but I enjoyed it and would consider racing there again. As for here and now though it was back to the training and looking ahead to the next race.

Posted on

Race Report – Keyworth Turkey Trot – Sunday 9th December 2018

There’s not many Christmas themed races that you can stake claim to having taken part in twice in one year, but the Keyworth Turkey Trot Half Marathon is one such race that I and, I assume plenty of others, can claim to have done in 2018. The 2017 race was postponed to February due to snow/threat of snow in the region and I took part in the rescheduled event, finishing 6th overall in 1:18:06 and recipient of a hamper for my efforts.

I went into the 2018 proper version of the race feeling distinctly jaded and glad it was to be my final event of the year. With that said I didn’t make a bad start to the race, with opening miles of 5:42, 5:41 and 5:54 before hitting the first big climb of the race which saw me drop to a 6:04 before recovering with a pleasant 5:36 on a quick section of the race.

The first mile of the race. The most people I’d see in a while. Picture c/o John Oldfield.

The race, for me, was a fairly dull affair. I never found myself in a group, for the most part running alone, never being passed by another runner and the only interaction with other competitors when I passed the occasional athlete who was beginning to struggle. I made a point of trying to stick to around 5:50 miles which I was able to do until the second wave of stiff climbs at mile 11 on a constantly undulating course, which saw the pace dip to 6:14, then 6:08 for mile 12.

I did though catch a couple of younger runners at this point. My presence seemed to spur them into life for they drifted away again on the downhill drop back into Keyworth before I closed in on them again on the deceptively tough last half or mile or so back to the school and the finish line. Alas any hopes of picking off a couple of young scalps receded quickly as they both put in  a sprint finish I had no hope of  matching and didn’t really attempt. It was the end of the year, I wasn’t fighting for a place or a prize and I was pretty jaded.

Coming into the final mile of the final race of the year. Picture c/o John Oldfield.

I crossed the line annoyingly just outside the top ten (11th – I did have something to fight for). The time was 1:17:27, just under 40 seconds quicker than I ran in February and the second fastest trot for me. Maybe it was another underwhelming post race memento (Magnetic race pins – soon lost) or the instant realisation I’d not won a turkey (third V40) but I felt very little emotion after the race other than I was glad it was the last of the year. I could have done with a month’s rest or so but, alas, as I was now down to be running the Manchester Marathon (April 7th) rather than the London Marathon (April 28th), downtime was going to be minimal before the whole process began again.

With some of the GRC Gang.

Postscript!

Thanks to a lovely kind gesture by GRC champion of age grade Julie we did have a Keyworth turkey for Christmas dinner! She had won the V65 category but had already planned on something else for Christmas dinner. So it was that a week or so later a trade was made and I had turkey!

Posted on

Perkins Great Eastern Run – Sunday 14th October 2018

I left Peterborough at around midday on Sunday 14th October and drove home, cold wet and pretty miserable, caring for little other than a warm shower and to try and move on from what had just taken place over the past one hour and fifteen minutes or so. I should have been close to euphoric. I’d just my second fastest ever half marathon (fastest if you go by what Power of 10 reckons I’ve raced…) and claimed my best ever age grade race result by pretty much one whole percent yet all I could think about was what could and should have been the best race of my life.

The Perkins Great Eastern Run (GER) had been my target race for the autumn pretty much as soon as I’d self inflicted a prolonged summer break from racing with injury at the Woodhall Spa 10K. This half marathon in Peterborough has a reputation for being the fastest in the region; what it lacks in beautiful scenery and rolling countryside it makes up in near pancake flat roads as it takes you through a sometimes dizzying tour out of central Peterborough and to the outskirts of the north of the city and back.

The summer holiday 21 10 mile+ runs had seen me in great shape and ever since I’d clocked a surprise 17:00 at Belton House parkrun it had been a case of trying to just do enough training to prolong the form. As the race approached I felt perhaps I’d lost perhaps just the tiniest amount of pace (Not helped by some tough weekends of F1 work) but still in decent enough shape to be looking to at least crack 75 minutes at the GER and hopefully beat my HM PB (set at Grunty Fen) of 1:14:46.

Given that 2018 has been undoubtedly the year of racing (or not being able to race) in extreme weather conditions, it should have come as no surprise that the GER would be struck with some pretty inclement conditions. Driving down the A1 not long after 7am with the rain battering my windscreen did not fill my heart with joy, especially as the forecast had predicted this weather and was very confident indeed that it would remain wet, at times very wet, all through the morning and well into the early afternoon.

Some people would rejoice at some conditions – the rain after all does do a great job in keeping the body cool so if you are a runner prone to overheating then if you can live with the discomfort of being wet then these conditions could be seen as close to ideal. The wind, although not still and at times noticeable in the race, was barely a factor and the official temperature was 14C, although it was most likely around 10C when the rain fell at its strongest.

History has suggested that I don’t race that well in very wet conditions. I don’t necessarily mind running in the rain – a bit of light drizzle is perfect in my eyes (not literally though, that is a bit of a nightmare). It’s when I am racing and I am struggling to stay warm in heavy rain that I feel I am losing out to the weather, especially when it is cold. The worst case was the Newton’s Fraction Half Marathon of 2017, so cold and wet it was that my quads all but locked and led to me now always racing in my compression shorts. Even the race I won in the rain (the Stilton Stumble 10K) I suffered badly from quad cramps, and it actually stopped raining not long after the start.

I arrived at the race venue two hours ahead of the race start. The car parks were already starting to fill. I had a little panic over which car park I was allowed to be in having booked it online. I don’t think it made a difference but the little panic as I moved car parks hoping I wouldn’t violate obscure T&Cs kept my mind occupied for longer than it should have. Walking to the the race village it soon became clear that the race wasn’t really geared up for preparations in heavy rain. There were no official changing facilities, people huddled under any place they could. I, and many others, sought sanctuary in the information tent, where far too many people in too small a space tried to keep warm and / or get changed into their race kit.

Kit changed and the first trip to the portaloos done, I returned to the car to sit around for a bit. I hadn’t seen any of the 40+ Grantham Running Club members taking part in the race, I can only assume that they, like me, and many others, were waiting in their cars until the last possible minute before making their way to the start or a queue for the toilets.

An hour before the start I went for a one and a half mile warm up which did little to warm me up, especially when I was soaked to the bone by a large car that went through a very large puddle at undiminished speed, putting my already questionable mood into a state of near gutter level gloom – gutters that were struggling to contain the volume of water that was falling. Back at the car I stripped out of the soaked tracksuit bottoms and top, deciding as it was still not actually that cold to go with the GRC T-shirt, rather than long-sleeved top, and gloves. I also opted to keep on the racing cap I’d worn during the warm up. The last time I race in this I think it was the last really warm London Marathon (Not this year’s the one before, years ago). I think it was a smart move, although I did struggle to keep it on at times!

I returned to the race village and queued again for the portaloos, shivering quite uncontrollably, spending longer on the toilet than I needed to just because it was somewhere warmer and drier. I then returned to the car (again!) as I’d decided that the gloves I was wearing, now soaked as though they had been in a washing machine that had forgotten to spin, were as useless at keeping my hands warm as no gloves at all. The car park was now fairly flooded, I made my way carefully to avoid the worst of the puddles, which was fairly pointless really as my trainers were already saturated.

I made one very last trip to the toilets, making my way to the start line around ten minutes before the start. I got myself pretty close to the front, not with the elites, who had their own pen to warm up in, but up and close with runners who looked pretty serious in their club vests and very flat racing flats. Me in my Hokas, t-shirt, shivering uncontrollably, could not have looked more out of place, frankly.

Five minutes before the off we were walked to the start line, trying our best to skirt the small pool that covered the road. The start should have been at 10:30 but it was delayed by five interminably long minutes as I assume they were ensuring the roads were closed and cleared. I seem to recall some small talk with a fellow runner who also appeared to be suffering a bit with the cold. I think we said the usual cliche of we’ll soon warm up once we get running, before we were finally called to our starting orders.

I think I made a terrible start, one of the worst I’ve made in recent years. It was terrible in that it was tardy, very slow to pick up the pace, feeling so cold and stiff, then having to work really hard to get into a decent rhythm. Looking back with the benefit of a few weeks’ hindsight, it may have actually been quite a good start, easing myself gently into the race rather than trying to hit race pace from the off. The mile split was 5:48, but given that I was well over six minute mile pace for the opening minute or two it showed I had to run a fair bit quicker than that in the latter part of the mile to bring the split time down.

Mile two was a little better (5:44), but still the HR struggled to get up to what I’d expect it to in a half marathon. I did though benefit from some advice to hug the inside of the road on a never ending left hand bend around Central Park, which saved me several seconds over those who were taking the go-kart line (that’s the outside of the bend) perhaps because it was so wet and rainy.  Mile three I began to get into the race. I’d got into a group of around eight runners, one of whom (Portuguese I think) was keen to get a rapport going between the runners, very eager to have the pack share the pace making, but annoyingly appearing to slow down in front of me when he took the pace.

Mile three was 5:35 and I felt warmed up and ready to race. Not enjoying tripping over the runners in front of me, as we hit a little rise crossing over the A47 (probably the biggest climb in the race), I pushed on the pace to see who would go with me.  Around four did, none of whom were willing to help share the pace. So, having run a 5:34 mile four I deliberately eased up to force someone else to take the pace on. This they did and for another mile or so I continued to run well, strangely enjoying the numerous twists and turns as we ran from one housing development to another.

Mile 5 was 5:39, mile 6 slowed to 5:47, but it was the most uphill mile of the race (Barely uphill though to be honest) and I recall we faced the worst of the headwind as we went along the seemingly never ending Lincoln Road, with the rain falling heavier than ever. As we went through halfway I seem to recall the official clock had us going through just ahead of schedule to break 75 minutes, but a few moments later a runner I was with asked me the question ‘are we on to break 75 minutes?’ My watch (Again running the awesome Peter’s Race Pacer app) said we were due to finish in 1:15:20.

He seemed to heed this warning for as we turned right into David’s Lane (Which felt more like a footpath, covered with fallen leaves) he pushed on the pace a touch, taking with him most of the remainder of the group (including the Portuguese runner). Had I been in a more fighting mood I think I would have gone with them. But I was cold. I was wet. I was looking at my heart rate. The average had barely gone above 168, which is right at the lower end of what I’d expect in a half marathon. It was beginning to drop. Mile 7 averaged 166, then miles 8 through to 12 averaged 165. That’s my marathon heart rate. I can only assume that the cold weather was seeing my body divert resources from the act of running fast to the act of trying to keep warm. As the rain continued to fall hard, there was little I could do but try as best I could and ignore the fact that I was feeling really cold, my trainers were dying, and I was still on target to finish just outside 75 minutes.

Mile 7 was 5:41, miles 8 and 9 5:37 and 5:42. In hindsight these aren’t bad miles but I felt like I should have been running quicker. By now I was more or less running alone, just one guy who I traded places with on a few occasions without actually helping pace one another, who I remember because he was wearing a lurid fluro pink t-shirt for a charity which appeared to have a lot of local support.

Mile 10 was 5:44, mile 11 5:43 – it was here we ran back on the roads we went out on at miles 3 and 4 although I can’t say I really recognised them – there are very few memorable features on this course. The only reason I knew we had run on them was because there were backmarkers heading in the opposite direction, culminating with the sweep vehicles, one of whom almost literally did sweep me up as I took a right hand turn into the path of a street cleaning vehicle.

It was at around this stage that I caught what I believe is the second placed woman, who I quickly made the effort to pass and pull clear of, not because I have any sense of needing to beat a female, but because she had an awkward running style that appeared to have her knees twisting at all sorts of funny angles and given that I’m pretty screamish about knees, I knew I couldn’t stick behind her.

With her passed I set about making it to the finish, constantly looking at my watch which resolutely predicted that I was going to finish in 1:15:20. Mile 12 was 5:40, the final mile appeared to last an eternity as we sploshed through near flooded roads. I latched onto the back of a runner who, wearing a black and white striped vest, I assumed, wrongly, ran for Shaftsbury Barnet Harriers (The colours of the pacers at the London Marathon). He carried me from mile 12 almost to the end, except he was able to put a sprint on from the 400 meters to go sign and I simply wasn’t able to, the problems this time were feet that were beginning to go numb from the cold and a stomach that really didn’t like the cereal that for some unfathomable reason (I have a bad history with cereal and racing) I’d decided to have for breakfast.

I crossed the line in 1:15:17, I made three seconds up on the time my watch had predicted I would finish in since halfway. I must have been annoyed/cold as I totally forgot to stop my watch for around half a minute after I crossed the finish line – the first time I can ever recall doing this (It’s an action more autonomous than breathing). Annoyingly the Portuguese runner crossed the finish line in 1:14:57, I think all the other runners I was with at halfway broke 75 minutes – if only I’d just been able to keep with them at mile 7. I think I would have stayed with them to the end.

I picked up my medal, bag, and other bits and bobs then hot-footed it as quick as possible to the nearest portaloo. From there it was straight to the car and home. I had left before 1:24 finishers had crossed the finish line. I felt bad that I wasn’t around to cheer home the 35+ GRC runners, but I was very cold, very miserable, and wasn’t willing to stand around in the rain for a second longer than I had to. I think I made the right choice to head home – my lips were still purple two hours after I had got home….

A few weeks to reflect has eased the disappointment a touch, but I am still full of what if?  and if only? The fact it was my highest ever age grade (83.92%) eased the disappointment a little but if I’d run what I think I was capable of I think 85% was on the cards. It was my second quickest half marathon but I’ve waited years to be able to run the quickest half in the region and I am still a bit gutted that I couldn’t quite perform to the level I think I was at, possibly because, once again in 2018, the weather has consigned to be against me.

I didn’t have too long to feel down because my next race was in two weeks time – and it was one of my favourites!

 

Posted on

Race Report – Summer Solstice 10K, Long Bennington, Friday 23rd June 2017

The old adage that tends to run fairly true is that it takes a mile per day to fully recover from a running race. Given that I’d just a week from the Notts 10 Mile Race to the Summer Solstice 10K, the odds were always going to be against me. It could be said I didn’t help matters by running an 18 flat parkrun the following morning after the Holme Pierrepont race, followed by a 38 mile tempo bike ride in the heat of a very warm afternoon, a 64 mile bike ride the next day, spinning, elliptical trainer and running two and from the gym on a Monday, a 10 mile TT on the Tuesday (a course PB) and a 14 1/2 mile run on the Wednesday.

I was planning to rest up on the Thursday, especially with work, but I unexpectedly finished early and so had the opportunity to take part in a Witham Wheelers Chaingang ride. Having perhaps misinterpreted a recent article written by Lisa Dobriskey I decided to live for the moment. Chances to ride the chaingang are few and far between – I do enjoy them. Plus the weather for Friday was hardly looking conducive to racing – a strong wind looked set to destroy chances of a quick time.

That wind was very much present on the ride. I’d planned to spend much of the ride somewhere near the back conserving energy, getting a free ride wherever possible. But within minutes I found myself taking turns at the front, pulling 400+ watts, straining every sinew in my body to keep going. It was fun, exhilarating, somewhat exhausting, I sat up as the group exploded on the main climb of the ride, convincing myself that riding at a mere 4 watts per kg for the remainder of the ride was resting.

Thankfully when I awoke on race day morning the legs didn’t feel too bad – that’s the great thing about cycling, you can push quite hard and the legs generally feel not too bad the next day – certainly better than if you have run. As is typical for me on Solstice day, it would be spent working on a Grand Prix – this time the Azerbaijan GP, and it would be touch and go if I would make it to the start in time. In 2016 I made it with 10 minutes to spare and paid the penalty with stitch at 5k. Luckily this year I was more or less done and dusted by 6:30 pm, and with it being just a 20 minute drive from Grantham to Long Bennington, I had a, comparatively speaking, luxurious 40 minutes to prepare for the race.

I parked up around 1/2 mile from the race village, the warm up would be jogging to collect my race number and chip, returning to the car to dispose take on a final race drink, then jog back to the village to have a final toilet break. On arriving at the village I was greeted by old Kenilworth Runners friends and legends of the sport Pauline and Tom Dable, who are approaching 70 years young and had were taking part in their ninth race in twelve days! I had the time to have a quick chat before I had to make my apologies and prepare for the race. There was a little drama when I lost one of my safety pins for the race number and struggled to source another, but generally I was relatively happy with my preparation. I opted again to go with the Hoka Clifton 2s rather than the Nike Frees with the Achilles feeling a touch sore and with the calf issue at Lincoln still in my mind.

I didn’t have time to enjoy the warm up routine given by none other than my spinning instructor, but there appeared to be plenty doing so. With my chairman of Grantham Running Club hat on, I had reason to be very proud of the efforts made by those in our club to make this a pretty outstanding club run race.

Rebecca Smith hosts the pre-race warm up at the 2017 Long Bennington Summer Solstice. Picture c/o Jamie Garcia

I headed to the start line and made my way towards the front. I had a quick scan for familiar faces – I’d already seen Ben Livesey warming up so I knew the unlikely prospect of victory was out of the question. He though faced stiff competition from another previous winner Shane Robinson, who would indeed go on to win in a swift 31:47. The other familiar face was Greg Southern, a Sleaford based runner who I’ve had the pleasure of being beaten by at pretty much every parkrun I’ve taken part in at Belton House this past year or so.

The field lines up a the start of the the 2017 Long Bennington Summer Solstice. Picture c/o Gordon Geach

Staring out at the gentle rise on the bridge that takes us over the A1 and on the road out of Long Bennington, the unmistakable breeze on my face confirmed that the wind direction was the same as the night before. This meant it would be a head / cross wind for the first 6 km of the race before becoming a favourable tail wind, especially for the final mile and half. At dead on 7:30 pm the starting horn was blasted by club mate Mark and we were off!

Ben Livesey (#1429) leads at the start of the the 2017 Long Bennington Summer Solstice. I’m tucked in just behind race winner Shane Robinson. Picture C/O Gordon Geach

As I’ve tended to more than other races, perhaps because it is my local race, I went out hard, quickly finding myself a spot in the top ten. A look at the Garmin 30 or so seconds in and the shock discovery that I was knocking out sub 5 minute mile pace, made me try and ease off a touch but I found myself in a small group and I was keen to try and stay on the back of it – particularly as we were running in to the wind and I didn’t want to be exposed to it. The legs felt a touch heavy after the cycling the night before but, not too bad. At least I didn’t have the hamstring issues that plagued me in the previous two Solstices. Apart from the grumbling right Achilles, I was feeling in fine fettle – the calf issues of a few weeks ago seemingly fixed.

I went through the first mile in 5:28. This was seven seconds slower than in 2016, but the wind was not a factor then. It was at around a mile that Greg Southern pulled out of my slipstream, moved to the front of a now just three strong group, and pushed on the pace. My experience of Greg at Belton House parkrun is that he is a master pacer and follows a strategy I like to employ, start of relatively steady, then gradually build up the pace with the aim of finishing faster than you started. Reckoning that he was on a similar campaign in this race, I made a concerted effort to go with his acceleration. Over the next mile or so he would put in a number of these small accelerations and each time I stuck with him. The second mile was a 5:34, again slower in 2016, but the wind was a real factor as we turned left at the end of the road and headed towards Staunton, facing a full head wind.

Marshal support at the 2017 Long Bennington Summer Solstice. Picture c/o SJ Willis.

Perhaps inspired by the vociferous local support in the form of two marshals with their handmade placards, (I misread SJ’s #DBS (Don’t Be S**t! for #DRS – which I took to be a Formula One inspired encouragement to overtake on the straight that followed) , I stuck as best I could onto the coattails of Martin Troop, who had passed Greg, who by now was struggling and quite quickly dropped back by around 10-15 seconds. It transpired that Greg had actually gone for a high risk go out hard and hang on strategy which was now beginning to see him unravel.

I went through the third mile in 5:36 and the official 5K marker in just outside 17 minutes. This was slower than I went though in 2015 and 2016, but this felt by far the hardest effort of the three. I did though breath a sigh of relief as I passed the sport where I abruptly stopped with stitch in 2016, pressing on as best I could as I slowly lost the slipstream of Martin.

The end of the headwind would normally be celebrated, but at this race it means the only real climb of the race at Staunton has to be made. I got up it as best I could, taking a gulp of water on the summit, appreciating the warm smattering of applause from those enjoying a pint at the pub on the top of the hill, wishing I could be there rather than racing at that very moment in time!  The fourth mile was a relatively pedestrian 5:46. I was really struggling now, the legs felt heavy, breathing laboured (Not helped by a bit of hay fever) the will to keep going severely tested. Only Greg evidently slowly closing back on me gave me the inspiration to keep going, the prospect of a rare victory over him spurring something inside me.

The fifth mile was horrible – 5:49, admitted slightly uphill, but with a tail wind supporting us (albeit tempered by tree cover) it really should have been much quicker. The final full mile of the race, taking us back into Long Bennington was just a case of gritting teeth and running as hard as possible. It wasn’t pretty, Greg kept closing, I kept wanting to ease up, but didn’t. The sixth mile split popped up just as we took the final turn onto the finishing straight, I’d rallied to some extent with a 5:31 – helped greatly this time by the full force of the tail wind.

Coming into tihe finish, totally shattered! Picture c/o Graeme Reynolds.

The sprint to the finish was a tortuous affair, wheezing away and legs not wanting to know. I began to feel quite dizzy as I approached the line, crossing it in exactly 35 minutes. I had though managed to stay five seconds clear of Greg, earning myself seventh overall. It took a little longer than usual to recover from my efforts, but a minute or two later I was cheering home the first of my club mates, all of whom had run far better, relatively speaking, than I had.

After a few minutes behind the finish line I went to collect my post race commemorative cider and glass, and went to watch some more runners finish before receiving some post race massage on my Achilles from my man David McKee, catching up again with Pauline and Tom, and taking home a decidedly cold, dejected, pained, Chris Limmer, who had spent far longer on his feet than he should have following surgery.

I came away from the race pretty dissatisfied with my efforts. I felt I’d paced the race badly, going out a bit too hard and paying the consequences in the second half of the race. It’s not the way I like to race. It was also pretty obvious that the chaingang ride of the night before probably wasn’t the best preparation ever. Within minutes of finishing I’d already decided of activating the back up plan of targeting the Holme Pierrepont 10K in six days time, where I would race the way I like to – attack from the back!