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.
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.
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.
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!
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!
As is fairly typical I was one of the first to arrive at East Carlton Country Park, venue of the Two Counties Half Marathon, two hours or so before the start. I had a relaxed build up to what appeared to be a fairly relaxed, low key kind of race. Around an hour before the start I went on a one and a half mile warm up which doubled up as a recce of the infamous hill that we would face at the end of the race. It’s the same hill that many a runner has moaned about in the Corby 5 Mile Race. To be honest I didn’t think that much of it – it was certainly no Casthorpe nor Minnett’s Hill, but I could see that in the final mile of a half marathon it would be a great deal harder to climb than during an easy paced warm up.
The warm up itself felt okay, if a little concerning in the sense that the head cold I had caught was definitely just knocking that 1-2% off my peak capacity. I still felt I could run a good race, I just had to be careful I didn’t push too hard. A final trip or two to the toilet and I was good to go, making my way back to the base of the steepest part of the hill where we would start. A couple more trips to a bush to lose some of the fluid I had taken on board (it was around 19C – so reasonably cool, but warm enough to require good hydration) and I was finally ready to take my place near the front of the field on the start line.
At just before 10am we were sent on our way. A fairly young runner (the bearded one on the video above) who had lined up just behind me, wearing the oversized Oakley Jawbreaker style sunglasses that have come back into vogue, shot past me and hurtled into the lead. We were running slightly downhill but I sensed immediately he had no hope of maintaining his pace, which I estimated to be well under five minute miles given that my watch suggested I was running at around 5:20 pace for the opening few hundred meters.
Sitting in fourth I deliberately held off the pace off the runners in front of me for the opening mile, slowing enough to go through mile 1 in 5:49. Shortly after the opening mile came the first challenging climb of the race – I was pleased to see that I could close on those in front of me without having to go full gas, although they did then pull away again on the following downhill section. At a mile and a half we reached the end of Wire Lane and headed into Ashley Road to begin a near 10 mile clockwise loop, shaped rather like a bow tie.
We had a headwind for the near two mile long stretch to the village of Ashley. Mile two was a 5:51, mile three was 6:08, but worth 5:49 on Strava gap once the ascent was taken into account (and perhaps worth a little more given the headwind). By now the gap to third and second which had been around 10 seconds had begun to close down, so that by the time we went through 5K in 18:32 and headed north to Medbourne, I was hot on their heels.
Aided by a tailwind and the adrenaline of running on a road open to fast moving traffic while catching those ahead of me I caught and passed the third and second placed runners in quick succession, running the fourth mile in 5:36. The fifth mile saw us run through Medbourne and it was here where I caught the leader since the start of the race, who was quite dramatically paying the penalty for his over exuberant start.
I quickly put a gap on him but noted that I still had company. The runner who I passed when he was third had moved up the field just behind me and had now closed onto my shoulder, passing me as we went through mile 5 (5:39). The standard racing tactic would have been to sit on his shoulder and try and hold on but, given that I knew that the hardest sections of the race were still to come, I decided to stick to my own pace and let the gap grow to around 10 seconds as we passed through mile 6 (5:51), running the second 5K in 17:41. The runner at the front of the race was Luke Montgomery of local club. It was soon apparent that he was pretty well known to those supporting the race, cheering him on nearly all by name and clearly giving him that hometown adrenaline buzz.
Mile 7 was was another fairly swift one at 5:38 as we enjoyed flattish terrain and a rear crosswind. Not long after seven miles we began to climb. I’d had information from a club mate who had run the race in 2017 that this was a fairly testing climb. I was quite pleased to see that the Luke was coming back to me quite swiftly. Indeed as we turned off the main road to head south through Bringhurst and the road ramped up again, I caught and briefly passed him.
Feeling the legs start to get heavy from the effort of climbing I looked at my Garmin and noted that my HR had climbed over 175, which is getting towards the upper Z5 levels of my capacity. Knowing it would be unwise to go too long into the red I eased up and allowed Luke to overtake me once again and pull away as we went over the top of the climb and onto a fairly long descent. The gap pulled back out to around ten seconds before stabilising. I didn’t give up hope of a potential victory – I knew that the worst climb of the race was still to come and if I could leave something in the tank it could be expected that I could close the gap again and retake the lead.
Mile 8, which featured the long climb was a 5:57, mile 9 a little quicker at 5:53 but effectively saw a slight slowing as it was mostly flat. This was also the diciest section of the race as the narrow road, open to traffic, was busier than it should have been thanks to a local car boot sale that was just starting and attracting plenty of somewhat impatient visitors.
As we ran first through Cottingham and which led near seamlessly into Middleton, there was a sharp right hand bend which took us onto a pleasant tree covered road that would take us back to the opening road of the race and the finish. There was good crowd support here for a small rural race – all of it though was for the leader, who appeared to be coming back to me as I clocked the gradually uphill mile 10 in 5:58.
The road was now closed to traffic as it would be to the finish. Mile 11 was slightly downhill for the most part, the pace picked up up to 5:48. Without consciously picking up the pace I had all but caught the leader. Rather than sit with him and run at his pace, risking the possibility that he could rally in the final stages – especially with the local crowd support, I maintained my pace and pulled alongside and ahead of Luke. He tried to stay on my heels, but as we turned left into the long, mainly uphill finishing straight, the gap began to quickly grow as Luke appeared to crack.
Mile 12 was 5:49 and the biggest test of the race was about to commence. The first of two climbs, the first was a short, sharp test, which I managed without too much difficulty. I relaxed as I went over and down over the other side, encouraged by what appeared to be the race organisers roadside. Taking a breather as I knew the bigger climb lay ahead, I took a little look around and was relieved to see that there was no one in sight.
Knowing that, barring absolute disaster, victory was mine, I could have eased up the final climb and cruised to a win. However, this was a club GP Series race and times converted to age grade is the all important factor, so there was no letting up. My rather brilliant Peter’s (Race) Pacer data field on my newish Garmin had been telling me for some miles I was looking at a low 1:16, which began to drift a little as I began the final climb. Keen to keep it under 1:17 I kept the effort high, pushing all the way to the top of the hill and onto the finishing line inside the Country Park.
There was a little celebration at the finish, the raising of both hands and a big smile across the face. The finishing time was 1:16:52, which was apparently a new course record (The race is only in its second year). The final mile was the slowest of the race at 6:12 but the Strava GAP reckons it was worth 5:37, which makes it one of the quickest of the race.
As a result of this strong final mile the record books will show that I ended up winning by a fairly comfortable minute and fifty seconds. That won’t tell the full story of the race, how I sat off the pace at the start, took the lead only to lose it, then sat fairly patiently off the leader suspecting that he may not be able to sustain his pace.
It turned out to be a high risk strategy that paid off, especially when I looked up Luke’s Power of 10 profile at the end of the race which revealed he has a 10K PB nearly two minutes quicker than mine. The reason he cracked was that he specialises in the shorter distances (he runs a lot of 3000 and 5000 meter races on the track) and this was only his second foray over the half marathon distance (his other effort was in 2014) and he found his stamina on the day a little wanting.
With plenty of spectators wishing me a warm well done I moved back a few yards down the circuit to see in the small contingency of fellow Grantham Running Clubbers who were also taking part. We had to wait an eternity for the ultimately rather low key prize giving, but it was worth it for the generous cash prize that came my way. With the sense that I had won the race in the quickest possible time with the least possible effort and hadn’t strained myself too much – especially with the cold I was carrying, it was definitely a sense of mission accomplished as I made my way back home.
The Thoresby 10 Mile Multi Terrain Race was very much a last minute addition to the 2017 race portfolio. Originally I had been content to concentrate on the Sleaford Duathlon being my main event of the weekend, but it was a call from two of my club mates, Holly and Penny, at GRC to complete a team for the race a week or so before it happened that piqued my interest. The club in 2016 had won the team prize with a relatively modest effort and were keen to repeat the success in 2017. I checked the results online and saw that the individual winning time for the 10 mile race was 1:06 and change. Given that i knew enough about the race that although it was off-road and undulating, it wasn’t that challenging an off road race and in recent weeks I’ve been running 10 miles for fun in under 65 minutes, the lure of a sure fire individual victory and possible team victory proved too great and within minutes of the call out on Facebook, I was signed up and a member of the catchy sounding Grantham Running Club ‘A’ team.
In signing up I’d conveniently forgotten the challenges of this weekend which partly explained why I’d chosen not to race on the Sunday. Not only was I taking part in the Sleaford Duathlon on the Saturday I was working on the United States Grand Prix. Not only was I facing the prospect of finishing after 1am on the Friday night, because they had moved qualifying until later on the Saturday to accommodate, of all things, a Justin TImberlake concert, I was looking a a very late evening’s work – hardly ideal for any race preparation, let alone when I’d already raced in the morning.
And so it was I finished second in the Sleaford Duathlon on less than six hours sleep. I finally finished work on Saturday evening at 2am on the Sunday morning, and so had less than five hours sleep before getting up and blearily getting ready to leave a quiet house, making the coffee as strong as humanly possible without it having an overly devastating laxative effect.
At least the drive to Thoreseby Hall, a little way north of Newark, not too far from Clumber Park, was blissfully easy on a Sunday morning, the loud music in the car being sung along to with much gusto ensuring I stayed awake while driving at least. I arrived an 1 3/4 hours before the start of the race – overkill perhaps, but I do like to ensure preparations aren’t rushed and I don’t have to queue for the essentials such as race number collection and Portaloo inspection. The hardest thing was trying to stay warm. Storm Brian had come and past during Saturday afternoon and evening, what followed was a stiff chilly wind that was something of a shock having enjoyed the balmy 22C at cross country a week earlier. I didn’t want to sit in the car so I changed into my emergency thermals, hat and gloves, and arrived at the conclusion that four layers was just about enough to stay warm.
At around 9:40 I went on my warm up jog of around 1.5 miles. I used the opportunity to check out the start of the course, which was flagged as being amongst the most uneven and potentially boggy in terms of terrain. It was certainly a little rutted, but thankfully not muddy. My Hoka Hoke One Challenger 2 trainers, pair 2 of 4 (!) that were worn for the first time at cross country a week earlier, were perfectly suited to the not particularly challenging off-road terrain. The warm up was very unspectacular, but at least there were no overwhelming aches and pains.
I wandered around slowly a bit more, finally ditching my clothing in the car to make it to a GRC pre race photo (1 of 2) arranged for ten minutes before the start. I made one last trip to behind a handy tree, before making my way to the start line, placing myself directly at the front with the Canix runners and their dogs, who were wildly excited to the point where it was near impossible to hear yourself think. Thankfully the organisers had the good sense to send the hounds and their owners off on their way a few minutes before our 10:30am departure, so the pre-race briefing could be clearly heard. This briefing did little but leave me more confused as to what the 10 mile runners were actually meant to do, I could do nothing but hope it would be fairly obvious on route.
It was probably rather foolish but all the while I stood on the start line I was utterly confident that I was going to win the race. In my mind, based on the totally fallible reasoning that because last year’s race was won in 1:06, the fastest other runner this year would also run 1:06, I reckoned that I would just need to set of at around 6:10 pace and keep something like that going for a very comfortable multi minute victory.
With the race organiser threatening to repeat the race instructions again to a large audible groan, the race was quickly started. It was a very short dash to the tight first left hand corner before we headed on a rough dirt track on our way to what lied ahead. I was third or fourth into the first corner, before several other runners came shooting past me. Early race over exuberance I reassured myself. After a few hundred meters I saw the lead group split and I made an effort to pass a few who did indeed go off too fast and sat in around fourth position.
As we ran on the slightly rough grass passing a lake, the pace for a few seconds settled. Then a runner in orange visibly picked up the pace and began to pull well clear as we entered the wooded section I ended ventured to on my warm up. From now on it was uncharted territory. Still I was strangely confident as the runner continued to hold his gap with no sign of slowing. Novice who will blow up in a minute or two! I thought to myself as I found myself behind a pair of runners in blue and white vests who both looked familiar, although I couldn’t quite put my finger on why they were so.
We briefly left some woodland and took a right onto another dirt track, slightly uphill but easier underfoot. The first mile clicked over on the Garmin – 5:59. A fair bit quicker than the 6:10 I had envisaged, especially considering it was very much multi-terrain and the second half of the mile slightly uphill. Still I felt sure that the pace would soon ease.
Just before we reached a main road, we turned left into more woodland. We were on a muddy path just wide enough to fit two runners, and heading slightly downhill. With oak tree cover it felt very much like we were in a tunnel, and on an act of impulse i picked up the pace, passing the two similarly clad runners ahead of me and rapidly closed on the orange vested runner in front of us. Without hesitation I passed him as we left the woodland and turned left back onto a path, more gravel like this time – clearly more often used by vehicles.
It was here we dipped sharply down and came across the Brighton Beach stones we had been warned about – placed on the gravel path by the owners of the land presumably to try and stop a flooded path during heavy rainfall. As suggested I veered to the right and took to the narrow grassy bank to avoid the ankle shredding stones. It was here we passed the first of the Canicross runners who had set off minutes before us – the dogs far less enthusiastic and seemingly keener to explore potential rabbit holes than take part in a 10 mile race.
We soon turned right and uphill and into a stiff headwind, which until now we had been mostly sheltered from by woodland. As we did the second mile split appeared on my Garmin – 5:45! This was definitely not in the plan – nearly 30 seconds quicker than the pace I’d envisaged when planning on racing twice in consecutive days. I put it down to the downhill nature of the mile and pushed on. With three runners still on my shoulder it would maybe tactically have made more sense to have tried to get the others to share taking the pace especially into the headwind. But I decided that attack may be the best form of defence and opted to make a concerted effort to keep the lead no matter what. Part of that decision was borne from the nature of the terrain underfoot. With the wide variety of surfaces I wanted to be sure of a good footing, and this was easier if I was at the front, not following someone and paying more attention to not tripping over their heels rather than taking care not to trip over tree roots. What made the decision easier to justify was that after around 2 1/2 miles the three behind me, which soon became just the two similarly attired runners seemingly were around a second or two behind me rather than right on my back, therefore not able to enjoy any slipstream benefits.
The pattern of the race remained static for the next three miles or so. I stayed at the front, with the two runners giving chase just behind me. We were not alone though, passing a succession of Canicross runners and their dogs, and a fair few marshals still making their way to their posts. Mile 3 was 5:57, 5K passed in just over 18 minutes. Mile 4 was a 5:47, despite having the steepest part of the course to navigate. The excuse for the speed of that mile – there was a lovely gentle downhill stretch on a paved avenue totally covered by trees and offering total protection from the wind.
The fifth mile saw the 10 mile and the 10K race split, the signs and some marshals taking us sharp left through a grassy section in the woodland. Footing was a little tricky here, but was easier when we were guided by the signs to bear right – still on grass, but with the trees wider apart, the going underneath less rutted. This initial diversion for the 10 mile runners was less than a mile before we rejoined the main course. This was more woodland, the going underneath was a mix of grass and muddy tracks, nothing too slippery but you had to pick your path carefully to avoid hitting the really boggy and potentially slippery stuff. As the Garmin hit the fifth mile in 5:49 I wondered what on earth I was doing running at this sort of pace that I’d be pleased at when running on flat smooth tarmac, let alone muddy uneven trails.
As we headed gradually uphill we were warned by numerous signs that the 10 mile runners would be heading left and the 10K runners would be turning right. That should have been straightforward enough. However as I approached the junction there was a brief moment of confusion. The two marshals were standing in my path with their back to me unaware that I was approaching as they enjoyed something that was on one of the two’s smartphone. That wouldn’t have been too much of an issue, but for a split second I saw three alternative routes, a right which I knew I shouldn’t take, a slight left and a sharp left, these two I suddenly got very confused over what was the correct route.
‘Which way should I go?’ I shouted to the marshals. ‘Which race are you doing?’ one of them asked. ‘10 Miles’ I shouted in reply, sensing I didn’t really have time for a calm conversation into where on earth I should be going. ‘Left!’ came the reply. ‘Which left?’ I screamed, as the two blue vested runners closed down the 2 or 3 seconds I had eked out on them and turned left just as one of the marshals clearly pointed with her arm which direction we should take.
It then became patently obvious. The tighter left led us to a fairly wide gravel path, the ever so slightly left was heading into woodland through a path that may or may not have actually been an official path (Although in my defence as I approached it, it definitely looked as though it was). As I thanked the marshals for their attentiveness and prompt action in a manner which may have been slightly politer had it not cost me the lead of the race, I sprung from a dead stop into a rage of pace, as I immediately pulled alongside the two now co-leaders and reasserted my authority over the race taking the lead once again.
As I retook the lead a moment of levelheadedness hit me at just the right moment when a surge of adrenaline had seen me briefly overexert myself. The temptation was to push really hard up the drag that awaited us to reestablish the 3 or 4 second lead I’d had a minute or so earlier. Instead I knew that the best way to tackle the next mile or so was to revert to the level of effort I’d been making up to five and a half miles, trust that this would be enough to break the elastic with the pair behind me and if it didn’t then they deserved to win.
As we went through the sixth mile in 5:55 with the pair still just a second or so behind, the thought running through my head was the charity fight in Rocky III between Rocky and Hulk Hogan playing the role of Hulk HoganThunderlips. This is the fight where Rocky reckoned on a bit of friendly jousting and showboating before being either allowed to win or at least draw in a non-exerting manner. Instead he got pummelled relentlessly by Hulk, who hadn’t read the correct script. It all ended amicably enough, but Rocky was pushed far harder than he had wanted to. This was a bit like I felt now. Thoresby was meant to be a bit of fun, a fairly low key race where I turned up, put on a show at a pace I’m comfortable with in training, win by 3 or 4 minutes and return home with a lovely trophy. Now I’d gone through 10K in a whisker over 36 minutes, working far harder than I’d ever intended, with seemingly no let up in the pressure.
At around 6 1/2 miles the ten mile runners rejoined the main course having looped around to approximately the 3 mile marker on the 10K course. This meant we had some mostly familiar terrain to contend with, starting with the short steep drag which this time around had a good number of runners taking part in the 10K race, which started 15 or so minutes after the 10 mile race. On this little steep climb I didn’t give a full look back, but I glanced over my shoulder and just sensed that perhaps the gap had grown to a couple of seconds. I didn’t look back again for another 3 miles. I pushed on, dodging the 10K runners and then dodging the 10K runners and the slower 10 mile runners. This was a bit like a multi-lap parkrun but on steroids, for this was a race where trophies were at stake rather than a free to enter timed run where the only competition is yourself. With most of the paths, be they gravel, mud, tarmac, or grass, only just wide enough for two lines of runners, picking the right route to pass became crucial, like Outrun, but windier. And colder.
Mile 7 turned out to be the slowest of the race at 6:02, but it featured at least two climbs. Mile 8 was back on the nice avenue and was quicker at 5:48. This section saw the second moment of confusion with marshals. They were handling the first section where 10 mile and 10K runners split. As they saw my number they pointed me in the direction of the 10 mile loop. I was pretty sure from the pre-race briefing we were meant to follow the 10K signs on the second lap so I began shouting ‘TEN MILE RACE! LEADER! SECOND LAP!’ I think I said this two or three times before the hand arrows changed from pointing left to right. This section of virgin territory for the 10 mile runners was on grass again but easier than the 10 mile loop. The ninth mile saw the 10 mile and 10K runners rejoin and then split again. The traffic was becoming a real issue as this was the muddy, sometimes boggy section, with sometimes only one clear defined path, and I was having to get quite audible (e.g. Coming through on the left! or coming down the middle!) to ensure that I didn’t end up careering into the back of someone. I thanked those who made space, had sympathy for those who were clearly new to racing and weren’t expecting to be overtaken in such a manner, and scorned those who were wearing headphones and were oblivious to anything and everything around them.
One of the two marshals at the second 10 mile / 10K split, tried to send me on another loop of the race. The other marshal recognised me as the f***er who spoiled their Youtube video or whatever it they were watching and sent me the right way with a comment in passing that I don’t believe was entirely complimentary. A lot calmer than I was 20 minutes or so earlier I gave a cheery wave and pushed on.
As we left the woodland and appeared to run through what may have been a farm yard or a forestry base, the path widened significantly and curved to the right before taking a sharp left. It was here I afforded myself the first big look back since the 6 mile marker. I saw two runners, but they were definitely two slower 10K runners and no the boys in blue chasing me down. I reckoned that even if they were just around the corner out of view I had at least a fifteen second lead, and with just over a mile remaining, victory was now mine barring some kind of disaster, such as heading the wrong way.
The ninth mile was a 5:49. The brain wasn’t working too well, but with the stopwatch still not showing 53 minutes it was obvious I was going a fair bit quicker than 1:02 pace. The last mile initially was a long mostly downhill stretch on a single track road, which would have been lightning fast were it not for the strong cross wind on exposed land that threatened at times to blow us off the road. Thankfully the road headed back into woodland as we approached Thoresby Hall and the finish. I took one last long behind me and to my relief saw no-one in view. I began passing loads of runners now, Canicross runners, 10K runners and I think some 5K runners too. It was quite unlike any other race finish, except for loads of parkrun finishes and the Rockingham Duathlon, which had runners in different races finishing at the same time.
There was a good crowd coming into the finish, but none were cheering. The finish chute marshal seemed unsure whether to send me to the finish or to send who on earth knows where. With the Garmin approaching 10 miles I knew to take a left and begin a mini sprint to the finish. The spectators and the race official appeared a little bemused when I raised my hands when crossing the finish line, why was I celebrating a 52 minute 10K? they appeared to wonder.
I decided to tell him that I was the winner of the ten mile race, around about the same time as his colleague in the chip timing van tapped him on the shoulder to tell him I was the race winner of the ten mile race. Word soon got around and it was announced a few moments later that the winner of the ten mile race had crossed the line. A belated round of applause followed, which was then followed by a big hug from friend and club mate SJ, who was on massage duty.
I looked at my Garmin – 58:25 for 9.99 miles! Not an officially measured 10 mile course but clearly not far off it – multi terrain, windy, tired, third fastest 10 mile race time! A few moments later (41 seconds to be precise) the second placed finisher crossed the line and the third followed suit 13 seconds later. I went back to congratulate them. The third placed finisher I recognised instantly, Marlon was the Rushcliffe AC runner who narrowly beat me in the Holme Pierrepont 10K back in the summer. The second placed runner I’d definitely recognised but at the time couldn’t quite place him. It was only when I got home and stalked followed Steve on Strava and checked his Power of 10 that I sussed out that he was the Rushcliffe AC runner who finished third at my club’s Summer Solstice 10K in an ever so slightly faster than I’ve ever run before 34:02. They congratulated me on my strong run, pointing out that they both rarely run further than 10K, so simply ran out of steam not long after that point in the race.
I was already happy to win; now I was even happier that I’d beaten runners who had beaten me over the summer. Had I known beforehand that they were racing I doubt I would have run with the same confidence I did. I had considered it my race to lose, little did I know I had to work as hard as I did to win.
We had to wait an eternity for the prize giving to take place. This was not ideal as I had work in the afternoon that would stretch until the early hours of the morning and had an early getaway for a short half term break planned the following morning. Finally the prizes were presented. i was the recipient of a rather underwhelming trophy, but the winner of a rather snazzy bobble hat. They didn’t have club colours so I settled for the colours of Austria for reasons unknown.
The main reason I had entered the race was to complete Grantham Running Club ‘A’. My teammates and I nervously waited, hoping that my winning time and Holly’s podium finish could ensure victory. Alas the telltale blue sweatshirt of a third Rushcliffe AC runner should have been a clue that they anticipated a team victory. And indeed they did with a pretty impressive 3:01:48 for the three strong team, just a minute slower than our own club winning 10K team! I had to settle for second in the team competition, a mere 30 minutes behind Rushcliffe. I did though get to accept the 10K team prize on their behalf as they were nowhere to be seen!
With that, the race was over and done and there was nothing left to do but drive home. My second multi-terrain victory and definitely the more satisfying in the manner in which it was won. Off now on holiday and prepare for next week’s race!
After a flurry of races in June, July and most of August was race free, save for some time trials on the bike and, if you call parkruns a race (Which I don’t), I came first at Ashton Court parkrun, which was quite a notable achievement if only because it was done on a not insignificant hangover after night one of my brother’s Stag Do. Thanks to a hefty downhill run to the finish I also clocked my fastest ever mile at 4:48!
My brother’s impending wedding certainly had an impact on my training for the Thorney 5. I’d only entered the race because the Notts 5 in July, which I’d intended to run, had been cancelled, and I needed another scoring race for our running club’s Grand Prix series, of which Thorney was one of the 20 races to available to score from. I had a week or so back home after the stag do to train before heading off for five nights caravanning in London, mainly to watch the World Athletics Championships.
I managed to get a short run in on the Thursday afternoon on the Green Link of parks in South London,
but nothing on the Friday, when my family and I attended the first evening session, thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere when Mo Farah won the 10,000m.
There was no run on Saturday either as I enjoyed a morning of athletics at the stadium before inviting my brother and fiance for the second of four barbecues we knocked up beside the caravan at Abbey Wood. Sunday saw no run either as I spent a second morning at the stadium before meeting my family to catch the start of the women’s marathon and then sat down in the fan zone area to enjoy the race from the comfort of a deckchair and then the podium from a small grandstand just meters from the newly crowned men’s and women’s champions.
Monday at least saw a run – a bit of an epic 20 mile effort as I made the round trip to the first flat my wife and I rented in South East London almost 20 years ago. It was much as we had left it, although the area itself had got itself a whole load posher than when we were residents.
That evening we enjoyed one last night of live athletics, seeing Laura Muir agonsingly close to securing a medal. Another night home not long before 1am and I was ready for a good rest. The reality was that we had just a couple of days before heading off to Poland for my brother’s wedding.
The wedding itself was amazing; Gdansk – where we spent three days after the wedding, was a fantastic city, as was Torun – where we’d briefly stayed before the wedding itself. I managed one somewhat hungover run there the morning after an evening of drinking at the bride to be’s parents’ house and, coincidentally the night of the worst storms apparently in Polish history, which knocked down thousands of trees and tragically killed five people.
I also managed a very painfully hungover run on the morning after the wedding itself, the first few miles were as hard as anything I’ve done this year as the head cried enough!
Gdansk should have seen plenty of miles and I at least managed to get out three times. There had been gentle attempts before we headed to Poland to sell the idea of me taking part in the Gdansk marathon, which took place on the Tuesday (a public holiday in Poland). Eventually I decided it perhaps wasn’t the best idea to race a marathon in the middle of what was now a family holiday. As it transpired , a severe wasp sting on my right foot on the Monday, left it several times bigger than the left, which made running somewhat uncomfortable and almost certainly impossible to race a marathon.
We arrived back from Poland late on Thursday night with the Thorney 5 on the Sunday morning. I ran an easy ten miles on the Friday morning, then took the Saturday off. I felt tired, lethargic and somewhat unfit having enjoyed the best part of two weeks drinking and eating too much, going to bed too often the wrong side of midnight and waking up not entirely rested. I even considered not racing on Saturday evening such was my lack of confidence over my fitness, race fitness especially, but I thought in the end it would be worth the effort to go along and give it a go – even if I ran sub-par.
Thorney is a 50 minute or so drive from Grantham, a small village northeast of Peterborough. I was one of the first to arrive, around 90 minutes before the start of the race. I collected my number and began to prepare myself for a warm up. Usually I do two miles maximum for a warm up – often due to time limitations, but with some more time to kill than usual I decided to opt for a 5k warm up, interspersed with some deep calf stretches on a conveniently placed kerb stone to try and alleviate a niggly Achilles that has been troubling me on and off for almost exactly a year now (It’s actually a calf issue that is resolved with the regular stretching I sometimes neglect doing).
By coincidence I’d actually managed to run a good chunk of the race course. It was a simple out and back affair largely on the old A47, which is now a road vastly over sized for the volume of traffic it no longer carries thanks to a bypass built twelve or so years ago. The warm up felt fairly comfortable, and I was able to run the last mile at around 6:20 pace with little difficulty. It also served as a useful guide to how the wind would affect the race. The course is all but pancake flat and would be a guaranteed PB course were it not for the winds that usually afflict this fen land part of the country. For the fens the winds on the day of the race were not too challenging, but strong enough that they would determine the pattern of the race. They would be a tail wind for much of the first half before becoming a cross wind, then a head wind for the closing stages.
I still had nearly half an hour to kill so I headed to somewhere with a carpet to do some final stretches. The race physio was there, and with no-one to treat, he asked if I’d like some help with any thing. My right hamstring was quite tight, mostly thanks to having done a few too many squats, so I took him up on his offer. I was only there for about five minutes or so but i must say he worked wonders loosening off not just that hamstring, but the left one too, and my glute muscles.
With ten minutes to go before the start of the race I was totally ready to race – last toilet stop done, final stretches carried out and laces tightened for the final time. We lined up on the start line with a few minutes to kill. I scanned the front line of runners for recognisable local talent. The big names were clearly not there but there were some runners who looked lean and talented, so mentally I assumed it would be another race where I watched runners disappear quickly off into the distance.
The race started promptly at 10:30 – the opening 100 meters or so actually on the only incline of the race, although in any other race it wouldn’t actually register as an incline, it was so shallow. I set off comfortably, but fairly briskly, yet I was well outside the top ten for the opening couple of minutes of the race. One runner quickly broke away to form a gap over a group of three and, around three minutes into the race, I found myself a few seconds behind that group in a larger pack of around six or seven runners. Feeling a little better than expected I put in a little effort to break clear of that group and catch the group ahead. I then sat at the back of the group as we went through the opening mile marker in 5:18. This is a fair few seconds quicker than I’ve run in the opening mile of the recent 10K races but because we were aided by the tail wind it actually felt fairly comfortable.
The second mile saw one of the three runners in my group break clear and attempt to catch up with the lead runner who, having established a gap of around 10 seconds appeared to be slowing. Indeed it wasn’t long before he was indeed caught and passed, not just by the leader, but by our group of three too. I remained at the back of the three strong group, the two ahead of me seemed to know each other fairly well and I was the interloper. The fact that all three of us were able to talk to each other suggested that maximal pace had not yet been reached. The runner ahead of us continued to pull away but at a reduced rate. Indeed as we turned right off the main road and onto a small country lane, the gap became static, and if anything began to reduce slightly.
We went through the second mile in 5:20, again largely wind assisted. The right turn meant we now faced a cross wind. I played a tactical card and drew alongside the other two (who were Robert Brownlee of Nene Valley Harriers and John Pike of Peterborough AC), but made sure I was by the gutter on the left hand side of the road, being sheltered as much as possible from the wind.
At just over 2.5 miles we made a dead turn to begin our return back to the start. I immediately placed myself in the middle of the road, to the right of the other two so that, again, I would get as much shelter from the cross wind as possible. It was at the dead turn that Robert Brownlee made the first surge of the race in an attempt to break the group. Both John and I were able to keep up with him and as we did I drew alongside and just past as the pace slowed back down.
The third mile was clocked at 5:28, which meant we went through 5k in approximately 16:42. Had I known that I’d run comfortably inside my official 5k PB (and just outside my parkrun best), I may have scared myself into easing the pace. As it was I wasn’t really paying too much attention to the watch and instead enjoying the race and the tactics that were unfolding.
This surge meant we quite quickly closed down the gap to the leader and before we even hit the main road again, we had passed Kieran White of Hercules Wimbledon, who would go onto finish fourth. Just before the main road, John put in a surge, running close to 5 minute mile pace before we slowed again to something around 5:40 pace. Once again I was able to stay with the surge and again I just allowed myself to drift towards the front of the group, giving the idea that I was helping with the pace and pushing on, when in reality I was keeping the pace steady and avoiding any kind of surging.
We turned left and back onto the main road, where we hit a near full on head wind. John made another strong surge in a big attempt to try and break the tow of Robert and myself. I had to dig quite deep to catch back up with him but I managed it, and once again, the pace slowed as I once again pulled alongside to co-lead the race. At a slight dogleg right we hit the four mile marker with a 5:35 mile clocked and Robert put in another strong surge. This proved too much for John and he began to drop back. I dug deep again and was able to pull alongside Robert. This time, rather than let the pace slow, I maintained the effort for a few more seconds, long enough for Robert to firstly drop behind me and tuck in, then to slowly, but inexorably, begin to drop back.
My HR was pretty high, not far off maximal, but I felt that I could have maintained the pace, even perhaps gone a little quicker. The limiting factor was a bit of tummy trouble which deteriorated the quicker I ran. Halfway through the final mile and fully into the headwind I was able to maintain a pace that saw me continue to slowly pull away but not feel like I was about to imminently about to have an unfortunate accident.
As we returned into Thorney village the realisation hit me that I was in the lead and on course for a very unlikely victory. I tried to relax as much as possible, but continued to nervously look behind to see if Robert was closing on me. Taking a right at the crossroads I knew I had less than a minute of running left and put on a semi hard sprint. I looked once again behind and was relieved to see that Mr Brownlee didn’t have a Farah like finishing kick and so victory was assured.
As I turned into the finishing straight the clock ticked 27:15 and I realised a healthy PB was the reward for victory. I raised my arms in triumph as I crossed the finish line in 29:27.7 (with a 5:28 final mile), clocking a new five mile PB by 32 seconds. I waited for 10 seconds for Robert to cross the line, congratulated him and then, a few moments later, John on a good race. I recovered quickly enough to head back down the course a little to cheer home fellow GRC runners, accepting the congratulations of a few runners and spectators who recognised me as the winner.
With 40 minutes to kill until the prize giving ceremony I went on a rare post race warm down which was nearly another 5km long. This felt surprisingly easy – normally I struggle to walk properly after races! I went into the Village Hall, and after 10 or so minutes of winning I collected my rather impressive winners’ trophy. It later transpired I would have also been the Cambridgeshire 5 Mile Road Race Champion, were it not for the fact I don’t reside in, nor was born in, Cambridgeshire.
After a quick photo with the aforementioned trophy, the day was done and I returned to my car for the journey home, still not quite believing I had won. As the local Grantham Journal pointed out, when I made it onto the back page for the first time, if I recall correctly, If the recipe for success is eating, drinking, and partying to excess, then maybe I need to holiday more often!
Following the unexpected success at the Stilton Stumble I had just seven days to recover and prepare for the Holdenby Duathlon, a race I’d been targeting for some time, but only entered a day or two before the Stumble. The left Achilles was pretty stiff and sore following the race so I opted to spend as little time running as possible to give it a chance to recover.
Monday saw an hour on the elliptical trainer then a spin session in the evening operating at half gas. Considering the efforts of the day before that felt pretty good. Tuesday saw an hour on the elliptical trainer and an hour on the turbo following an easy program on TrainerRoad. These felt somewhat harder than Monday’s efforts.
Wednesday I headed out on the bike using the summer road bike I had planned to use with the addition of tri bars. This ride was something of an alarm call – the quads had absolutely nothing to give as soon as I went into the TT position. The HR was really low, but not in a good way low, more a something is not quite right low. It was a two hour ride that felt longer and harder.
Thursday saw two hours on the elliptical trainer, which wasn’t too arduous but felt as if I was fighting a cold trying to erupt. By Friday I had changed my mind over what bike to ride for the duathlon. A tip off by Hywel Davies on Strava who had recced the course on Wednesday, he suggested that a TT bike was definitely the way to go, even if the first half of the course was a little lumpy, and the second half had road surfaces of dubious quality.
This change of mind meant I needed to head out on the TT bike which I hadn’t ridden outside since the end of July. Riding the Witham Wheelers TT course the bike felt fine, save the Garmin mount which was somewhat broken, but the legs, if anything, felt worse than they did on Wednesday. I had little choice but to ride easy, rest up and hope for the best. That I kind of did, straight after a one mile brick run – a test of the Achilles and a test of the Hoka Hoka Clifton 2 trainers I’d bought a couple of months earlier and hadn’t got around to trying. They felt pretty good and the legs felt more lively running than when cycling.
Rest should mean rest but I read somewhere over lunch that Achilles problems can be caused by issues in the hip / glute area. This part of the body has been giving me a few issues recently, probably because the weekly core strength and conditioning programme has, let’s say, slipped over the past few months to not really doing anything at all save for some planks.
Friday I did twenty minutes and felt no ill effects. Saturday came and I was still feeling the effects of the ‘Stumble and by now suffering the consequences of being on Austin, Texas time covering the F1 by night and being on British Summer Time by day (i.e. being awake most of the time). Nonetheless I was keen to put in another S&T session, focusing on the glute medius muscle. All was going well until a set off crossover crunches saw my right hamstring tighten alarmingly near the glutes. The session was quickly abandoned for half an hour intense massage and stretching before needing to start work. By the evening and still walking with a little limp I considering not bothering to take part – the lure of a lie in was strong. Only the fact I had parted with a sum of hard cash persuaded me to set the alarm for 6am as I headed to bed shortly before 2am on Sunday morning.
Knowing that I would be pretty much comatose while staggering around the house Sunday morning, I had prepared as best I could to ensure an easy departure. This was achieved, leaving just a few minutes later than planned, but then 10 minutes into the journey I had a panic that I’d not remembered my trainers! I fretted all the way to my doorstep before remembering they were safely packed in my rucksack! Annoyed I went in anyway and picked up my rain jacket – a token gesture to suggest the return wasn’t entirely wasted – it was after all raining quite heavily in Grantham. Thankfully I was able to make up a little time en route to Holdenby and the rain was a distant memory when I pulled into the field to park. While the right hamstring was happily almost pain free I did manage to complicate matters by finding a tender spot in the right quad while poking around bored on the A1. This caused quite a deep long lasting pain which forced some frantic quad stretching on my arrival.
It was immediately apparent this was no World Championship event, this was a fairly low key relaxed race, albeit still with proper transition areas, chip timing and the like. I had just over an hour to get prepared. This is not as straightforward a task as when running – there is a bike to set-up and check, things to put in boxes, things to keep and not keep in transition. I must have fretted away 30 minutes before I made my final trip into transition shortly before the start and was satisfied I was ready.
The warm up was a token mile jogging slowly back and forth. Thankfully there was just a subtle ache in the Achilles, the right hamstring was fine, the right quad felt a little fuzzy, but bearable. I joined the rest of the field for an organised warm up session. I normally baulk at such an undertaking, but after a minute or so I realised that they were doing pretty much all the same exercises I was doing, so joined in – and felt better for it.
The final instructions were more important than normal to listen to. There was to be a foot down rule at a junction we had been warned about. There was also some temporary roadworks on the bike route covered by traffic lights. This was clearly not an ideal state of affairs. The thought of being unjustly held up by a costly red light already had me seeing red before the race had begun. Still there was nothing that could be done and there was always the chance this random luck / bad luck generator could play into my favour.
The warm up over we were greeted with a loud buzzing noise and the somewhat off putting sight of a drone hovering somewhat unsteadily just above us. We were encouraged to wave; I felt more inclined to duck for cover. Thankfully we were promptly given the countdown from five to begin and once off we were soon we were clear of the flying camera which, I presume, wasn’t seen again. I felt a little conspicuous to be taking part in my Team GB tri-suit. This wasn’t bragging, more the reality of only having one tri-suit. Hopefully soon I can get hold of a less conspicuous one.
As with the Stumble I instantly found myself at the head of the field from the off, but this time there was two or three who were quickly keen to take the pace, passed me and pulled out a small gap chasing the lead vehicle which would accompany us for most of the first lap only. I wasn’t overly concerned, but was a little bemused when after around three minutes of running we came down a short sharp descent and was swamped by five or six minutes hurtling down as if the finish was at the bottom of the hill! Admittedly I was taking it fairly gingerly here – I didn’t want to stress the quads, already showing signs of fragility and which have form for cramping up early in races on a descent.
Thankfully the quads and all the other aching bits survived and, lo and behold, it wasn’t too many yards later where I began to pretty much all of the runners who flew past me a minute earlier and were now already beginning to show signs of paying the consequences. The first mile was swift – 5:41 but it was mostly downhill, so a 6:05 according to Strava GAP. The run was off road but the kind of off-road I’m agreeable with – firm underfoot and, for the most, part fairly even and not rutted.
The second mile was where i established my position in the race. I found myself moving up to third as we tackled the big steep hill on the climb. The lead two were around 20 seconds ahead but as looked at them I began to wonder whether they were actually competitors. I remembered that as well as the standard distance Duathlon with its 10km opening run leg, there was a sprint Duathlon with a 5k opening run leg, and also a 10km standalone running race. This explained why one of the lead two was wearing a baggy vest and shorts, which would be awfully casual attire for the lycra obsessed multi-sport world.
As I struggled with a section of hills and hollows coming in to complete the first lap the lycra clad runner peeled off to collect his bike in transition. I was now at worst second and likely to be leading the Standard distanced race. I very nearly ended up throwing it all away at the start of the second lap when I was confused by a poorly posted direction sign (It pointed left when it should have been straight ahead) and a gate that had become partially closed suggesting we should indeed turn left. This I did, but after a few seconds guessed that we hadn’t run through a farmyard on the first lap and had probably taken a wrong turn. I lost around 10-15 seconds but no one had passed me.
The run was proving to be hard but sustainable in terms of effort – mile 2 was 6:14 (5:50 GAP), mile 3 6:26, mile 4 6:13 and mile 5 6:02. There was no problem with low heart rate today, if anything it was a struggle to keep it down – the weeks of running inactivity beginning to show. The penultimate climb of the big hill was a struggle but I was pulling well clear of those behind me. Mile six was the slowest of the full mile of the run at 6:32 and there was a another 3/5s of a mile tackling before the the pesky hollows approaching transition to complete. It was here I received confirmation via the PA system that the runner ahead was indeed a runner and not planning on taking to a bicycle.
My transition to bike went really well and was commented on by a couple of spectators watching intently. As we were on wet grass and with the start of the bike leg tricky, I saw no point in attempting to run barefoot with bike shoes attached to bike. I calmly put helmet on first, took off trainers, put on bike shoes, unracked the bike and headed off to the mount point.
The bike leg was largely uneventful and played somewhat to my strengths. A two lap course, the first half of the lap was mostly uphill with two long descents. It meant that although I was on my TT bike there was little benefit of spending too much time in the TT position and I could put power through my quads in a more upright position. Also to save the quads I pedaled at a fairly high average cadence. I got myself in the TT position on the few flat sections of the course and on the gentle descents where the poor road conditions allowed. It transpired the road that had traffic lights had some of the most appalling road quality I’ve encountered – so rough that my bike mount broke and I had to hold onto the Garmin for dear life to avoid losing it altogether.
It was tricky to know how I was fairing on the bike as I was soon passing riders taking part in the sprint event. What I did know was that no-one passed me and no-one was in sight for the entire ride. I was fortunate in that on the two laps I was only held up for a few seconds at the traffic lights, and then again for 20 seconds or so coming into the village near Holdenby where parked cars were wreaking havoc.
An hour and nine minutes or so and the bike leg was over. I opted again to leave the bike shoes on when dismounting rather than get the socks wet. There was a little drama when the left calf wanted to cramp when taking the shoe off (Just as at Aviles) but again I was able to quickly stretch the calf and the pain passed. It wasn’t the quickest transition of the day but by now I was relaxed, confident that as long as the legs wanted to play ball on the run I was going to win.
Thankfully despite a little hip discomfort from the bike ride, the legs were soon up to speed, even if they didn’t feel like they were. The first mile was a 6:06 and half a mile later I was able to take a look back where I could see for nearly half a mile and I could no-one behind me. I relaxed as I settled to 6:16 for the second mile and almost allowed myself the luxury of walking up the last hill as mile three was a pedestrian 6:48 (6:15 Strava GAP). The last 0.3 mile was a little tortuous on the hollows but I was receiving congratulations from the Sprint athletes as they came to the finish too.
As I crossed the line there was a small celebration but little in the way of elation. I’m not sure why I wasn’t happier, I think it was sheer relief that I managed to get around largely in one piece. There was also the matter of not being able to hang around too much as there was work at home to be done. I quickly changed and packed the bike in the car before a short podium presentation, minus the trophy I am still waiting for, which apparently hadn’t arrived and will be posted.
And that was that. My second win in as many weeks! They will be days I look back on with affection, for these victories are unlikely to happen very often. In the end I won by over three minutes – fastest on both the run legs and, pleasingly second fastest on the bike leg. The field may not have been the biggest or strongest, but, as they say, a win is a win is a win!