Archives // Race Reports

The Best Day Of My Running Life

Monday 26th August 2013

Big claim, I know. Let me try and explain…

Saturday was a very special day for me for a number of reasons. The day started in northern Poland, where we had just spent the last week on holiday. With our flight home not until late morning, we got up early to go down to the beach and watch the sun rise over the Baltic Sea. Whilst I’m aware that I’m boasting here, I’m also aware that this is a real treat and not something I get to experience in landlocked Birmingham. It was stunning.

Once the sun had illuminated the Sopot beach, my runner’s instinct kicked in and I took the opportunity to get one more run in before going home. With my shoes already off and my running kit already on, I ran down the beach towards the city of Gdansk. The sea breeze was cold at first but the rising sun soon kicked in and warmed me up as I ran. At 6 in the morning there were very few people around, with the exception of some friends here and there walking home from a night out, or some early morning swimmers wanting to beat the crowds (or bathe in the nude in the case of one elderly man). After turning around at a pier about 4km away, I picked up the pace on the way back and was probably close to 6 minute mile pace by the end of the run. The combination of being tired from lack of sleep and being in beautiful surroundings put me in an almost trance like state, where I didn’t feel like I was consciously running at all. Left foot and right swapped places effortlessly, only breaking stride to cross a stream or move onto firmer sand nearer the water’s edge. It’s not a run I’m likely to forget any time soon.

We packed up our things and drove to the Gdansk airport to catch our flight back to Birmingham, swapping the blue skies of continental Europe for the more familiar grey skies of the West Midlands. It was good to be back. After lunch with my parents-in-law and some time spent unpacking I embarked on the second installment of my running day. Prior to my holiday I had agreed to pace some friends in their attempt to break 16 minutes for 5000 metres, provided I could get back in time. With the race scheduled for 7:20 in the evening I had no excuse. Not that I needed any.

The pace they were trying to run is close to what I want to run for 10k this weekend, so it served as the ideal training run. The added bonus was that it took place at the track on my old university campus; I was looking forward to running around the campus again and seeing what had changed.

Four others from my training group were there, as was Tim’s friend Sarah who was also trying to run a similar time. I ran a few strides before hand just to check the pace and as soon as the gun went, had a big group behind me trying to hit close to 76 seconds per lap. Within 500 metres I was hitting the right pace for them and now had to just focus on keeping it going and not slowing down or speeding up too much. With a group that size, slowing down could definitely lead to falls and collisions. We hit the first km bang on target in 3:10. I find that I can usually hold a pace quite well once I get onto it and we were hitting each split very close to the pace they had asked for. I looked back at every bend to check everyone was still there: Dan, Tim, Chris, Sarah were all there every time and even Mark, who was looking for a time in the 16:10-16:20 range was hanging on to the back of the group. Every lap that passed with the group still intact made me smile even more. Once we got to 4km in just under 12:40 it became clear that everyone was going to do it and the question now was how much would they all break their PBs by?

Dan, who had been on my shoulder for the last 10 laps and who was clearly itching to go faster, took off and soon got a gap on me. I dropped back to Tim and tried to offer him some encouragement as he made his big push for the finish line. I realised from the pace they were all going that some special times were going to be recorded. Dan was the first of our group over the line in 15:39, 24 seconds faster than he has ever run before. Tim, who kicked past me in the last 200, was next in 15:42, followed by me and then Sarah who also posted a PB. As I turned around to congratulate them, Mark and Chris stormed over the line with the number 16 not yet on the clock. All five of them had run personal bests, and all five had gone sub-16.

I know I shouldn’t bask in the glory of others, but I did feel a real sense of pride in their achievements and was pleased to have been part of their great performances. Everyone in our training group has been training really well this summer so it was satisfying to see it all come together for them. Moments like that are rare, and in an individual sport like athletics, feeling like part of a team effort is unusual but very enjoyable. My personal highlight was seeing my good friend Mark holding his arms aloft in disbelief after breaking a PB that had stood since his teenage years in 1994. It was inspirational to see him run the perfect race after training so hard this summer, and to see him not give up on running a time he ran half a lifetime ago. I will bear that in mind next time I complain about having PBs that are more than one year old.

A day of running that starts on a moonlit beach in Sopot and ends on a floodlit track in Coventry is not the kind that happens very often, nor is it one that most people would envisage when asked to describe the ideal running day. It sure was fun though.

A Race Too Many

Thursday 30th May 2013

May started with a surprise PB over 10k. Two weekends later I ran 3 races on the same day; a 1500, a 5000 and then a 400m relay leg. I followed that up with a PB at 5000 metres last weekend to win the county championships and then decided to try and squeeze one more race in before the month was out. In those races I had managed to amass PBs over 3 different distances and really wanted a crack at a 4th, this time over 3000 metres. The 4 in 4 in 31 days plan was also due to the fact that it’s my birthday today and I wanted to see if I could crack all my PBs before another year was added to my age.

Unfortunately my plan to leave a mark whilst the branding iron was still hot was foiled. Last night the iron was distinctly lukewarm; I hadn’t really recovered from the weekend and I knew it before the race started. It went out slow and I found myself at the front after half a lap, towing the rest of the field behind me. The group that stayed with me dwindled to 4 and we hit 1km in 2:59 and a mile in around 4:46. Just before 2k one of the young athletes in the lead group came round me and took off. This coincided with my legs giving way and I had no response to a surge that was probably no quicker than a 68 second lap. I tucked in behind the two other athletes who came past me and outkicked one of them down the home straight. I finished 3rd in 8:57.

I had tried to push my luck and as a result I finished in a time much slower than I should be capable of on current form. I might be a year older today but I’m still no wiser! Tim had a poor run too, having also run a PB at the weekend. Mark on the other hand, who didn’t have a track 5k in his legs, ran his best time for nearly 2 decades. The moral of this story? Race less, train more.

Three Laps

Thursday 18th April 2013

Last night I made my middle distance debut over the rarely run distance of 1200 metres.

In the past I’ve only ever raced over 3k and above, but I thought I’d try something new. I turned up and was told that there would be two pace makers, one doing 63 and one doing 68. I didn’t really know what kind of pace I would run, but guessed that it would be somewhere in between. Not wanting to  make my first experience a painful one, I opted to follow the second group. In fact, everyone went off so fast that I had to work pretty hard not to get detached from the back of this group. Half a lap in and I was in last position, and stayed there until we had got round the whole of the first lap. I glanced at the clock and it was showing roughly 68 seconds. A bit slow, I thought.

I started to pick people off down the back straight between 500 and 600 and as I pulled out into lane 2 to do so, was exposed to a very strong wind, so strong that I had to start working much harder just to maintain my cadence. It felt strange to be half way through the race already, having only run 600 metres. The next person ahead of me was the 68 pacemaker who I overtook just before the bell, passed in around 2:15. Another athlete was falling off the back of the first group so I made him my new target, a welcome distraction from the pain now engulfing my calves. I passed him with 300 to go and kicked as hard as I could. The home straight seemed longer than it ever has done before, but wasn’t quite long enough for me to catch the next athlete ahead. If I was in pain, the runners I passed on the last lap must have been in even more pain. I adopted the standard post-track-race pose of hands on knees and head bowed; most of my competitors were doing the same.

My finishing time was 3:22.33, a new PB to add to my collection. This was about what I expected, but I also left knowing I could have gone out a bit harder and still been able to kick on the last lap. I could have taken a few more seconds off, for sure. But that’s part of the learning curve, and learning to push myself to the limit over a short distance was the exact purpose of last night’s race, as I prepare to try and take down my 3k and 5k times this summer.

As well as these being the windiest conditions I’ve ever raced in, it was also the most fun I’ve had in a race for a long time. It was completely novel and different, it was fast, and it was also humbling to be taught a lesson in middle distance running by a load of 17 year olds.

I want to do another one.

Doing It The Hard Way

Sunday 3rd March 2013

I get mad at shit when it doesn’t go my way
but I’m finally learning
you can’t always do things the easy way

Apologies, I Have None – 60 Miles

This morning I ran the half marathon in the town where my parents live, and I did it in the most painful way possible: going out hard and hanging on.

Looking round at the start I saw the athlete who came second to me last year. Three hundred and sixty four days previously we had a really good battle in terrible conditions and this year it looked like we were going to be duelling again. This was confirmed when 200 metres into the race, the two of us were side by side with a lead on the rest of the field. We looked at each other and laughed. For some inexplicable reason I decided that I didn’t want to wait until late on to make my move like I did last year, so I just hammered it from the gun. We went through 1 mile in 5 flat, too quick for athletes who haven’t even broken 70 minutes before, but I decided to try and break him early on. I kept pushing and a few minutes later I had a gap. This mile was slightly uphill and I went through 2 miles in 10:15. This is going to come back to bite me later on, I thought.

The gap remained as I dragged myself up the first hill of the race (it’s a very hilly course) and by 4 miles I was already starting to feel the burn in my calves. I didn’t look back at all. I didn’t want to show any sign that I was struggling. Several spectators by the road side commented on how big my lead was but naturally I didn’t believe them. Why would I? They were lying. I hadn’t seen the other runner when I looked back at the last corner, but that’s because of the trees and the crowds, surely. I convinced myself that he was right behind me.

Around 5 miles I caught the distinctive scent of iron. Maybe I was supporting myself against a rusty railing when I did my pre-race stretches, I thought to myself. Then, after wiping my nose with my hand I realised I had a pretty nasty nose bleed and my hands resembled those of a knife murderer. Fortunately red doesn’t show up too well on a black vest. It didn’t hurt though, unlike my calves and quads which were now being forced to move quickly downhill. I went through 6 miles in just over 32 minutes. Don’t look back.

The next big hill was approaching now. I suppose in reality I was approaching it, but it all depends on your frame of reference doesn’t it? In any case, I certainly felt like I was the passenger now, not controlling the pace at all but hoping no one would catch me. I pushed myself up it, trying to summon some strength by imagining I was connected to the lead car by a tow-rope. It didn’t work.

The next few miles were a drag and I just wanted to get the thing over and done with by now. I passed ten miles in just over 55 minutes. I was just taking the odd glance at the car’s clock and wasn’t too bothered about the time, but some quick calculations told me I was slowing down. With the finish not far off I allowed myself a look over my shoulder and silenced the irrational part of my brain which was telling me I was being closely pursued. I was going to win, and after a long downhill stretch to the finish, did just that.

In the changing rooms afterwards, another runner told me that he had decided not to go with our stupid early pace; he also told me he came second and that the athlete I was with at the start had dropped out about 3 miles into the race. He must’ve been hurting too. Why did I do this to myself? I didn’t need to run that hard early on. All I did was turn a race I normally enjoy into an 11 mile suffer-fest. The course has lots of hills in it and is the kind of course that isn’t much fun to run on if you’re hurting. I could have run a much more even pace and still won, and probably in a quicker time than I ended up running.

Next time I’m doing it the easy way.

PS. My mum ran the 5 mile fun run in 50 minutes. Heroic.

Five Hundred and Seventy Five Days in the Making

Sunday 30th September 2012

On March 6th 2011 my wife started a photo project entitled ‘Project 365.’ The idea is simple; take one photo every day for a year. In fact, she got to 365 days and decided to keep going and is now well into the second year of the project (email me if you want the password). By coincidence, this was also the day when I set a personal best for the half marathon, taking roughly 200 seconds off my previous best time. My first feeling was that of complete elation and surprise at the time I had run, but a few weeks later this gave way to a feeling that this particular PB, being so much better than my others at the time, was going to cast a big shadow over my running. Recently I put in a good spell of training and got myself into what I thought was the kind of shape that would allow me to beat this time.

The time in question was 70:57 and the race I was planning to run was the Bristol Half Marathon, a race known for having a fairly quick course and a deep field. No excuses then. I went down the day before to stay with my friends Mark and Holly, who got married the previous week. Mark was also running the race. That’s right; honeymooning in a way that only runners know how. We made our way down to the start and dropped our bags off. The conditions were cool and overcast, ideal for road running. The first 8 miles are an out-and-back along the river Avon and the remainder of the course takes you through the outskirts and centre of the city.

Predictably, about 100 people charged off ahead of me at the start, whilst I tried to ease into the race. I wore a watch, something I rarely do when racing, in order to help me keep myself in check at the start. I passed the first mile marker in 5:30 and found myself on the shoulder of the three leading ladies, all of whom I guessed were from Kenya. The next was slightly downhill and a bit quicker and I got to 3 miles in 16 minutes exactly, which is 70 minute pace. Our group consisted of me, the three Kenyan ladies and a couple of other athletes, one of whom I vaguely recognised from Birmingham. Just ahead was a group of about 8 men, but was diminishing by the minute as some of the runners started to pay for their enthusiastic early pacing. We turned back on ourselves in the 5th mile and passed 6 miles in 32 minutes. Shortly after, the women dropped off the back of our group and the Birmingham athlete and I found ourselves together gradually working our way through the field. Though my ‘A’ goal was to run a PB, I had a vague hope that I could run under 70 minutes, or 5:20 per mile in runner speak. We got to 9 miles bang on pace but I was also aware that my calves were really starting to tie up. “Just focus on the people in front and keep the cadence up,” I told myself.  We got to 10 miles in 53:30.

The next part of the course is rather less appealing than the preceding 10 miles. The combination of cobbled streets, narrow winding roads and wind exposure as a result of the field thinning out meant I really needed to grit my teeth and work much harder. By 11 miles the pace had slipped and sub 70 started to look pretty unrealistic. I was also starting to get dropped by the athlete I had run most of the race with, and for the first time in the race was completely on my own. At 12 miles I turned a corner and got blasted by a gust of wind, which is the kind of thing that would normally make me give up and jog to the finish. I knew that I was still on for a PB so I kept pushing. Shortly after I passed a radio van which was blasting music out and had on board one of those very irritating, overfriendly you-can-do-it-mate presenter types who would normally annoy the hell out of me. He did make me chuckle though by praising me for both my headband and my beard. Hardly textbook motivational speaking but it seemed to do the trick. I pushed on once more until I was on the road towards the finish. I checked my watch as I passed the 400 to go sign and though it was about to tick from the 60s to the 70s I knew the PB was still on.

I stopped my watch at 70:50, which was given as 70:47 in the official results. So I got what I came for 575 days later, a personal best, and was happy that my longest standing one had now been broken. However, I couldn’t help but feel dismayed at the fact that I had worked so hard just to switch a 5 for a 4, rather than smashing it to pieces like I did when I set my previous best. At least it’s progress.

Mark set a PB too. What better way to celebrate his first week of marriage!