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.
Over last week’s cold. Some good running in the mountains which left me very sore. Ran the half marathon course ahead of next week’s race.
Monday: 16km easy (16)
Tuesday: AM 14km fartlek, no watch / PM 8km easy (22)
Wednesday: mountain/trail run on Snowdon (20)
Thursday: 16km easy, very sore (16)
Friday: 16km easy, swim (16)
Saturday: Parkrun 1st in 16:03, 5km tempo 17:15 (21)
Sunday: fartlek run on HM course: 2 x hill at mile 7, 7 x hill at mile 12. 1:55 total (29)
I don’t normally make resolutions, but I find that with running, having some clear goals really helps me stay focused.
Here’s what I want to have achieved by the time 2014 comes along:
8:45 for 3000m (1.50% improvement)
My current best is 8:53, set in June this year. A one second per lap improvement will see me achieve this one. Given where I was at the start of 2012 and where I am now I think this is possible. After my spring half marathon I will dedicate time to improving my speed, and do sessions of long reps at target pace (70 per lap) and hopefully this one should fall in June or July.
15:15 for 5000m/5km (1.72%)
I ran 15:32 twice this year, which is one second slower than my best time for the distance. If I beat this it is more likely to happen on the road, as I only get about 2 opportunities for a 5k track race every year. Last summer a friend set us a programme which involved running a high-volume session every week at 3k or 5k target pace, which seemed to really work for me. I plan to do the same sessions again but quicker. It all sounds so simple!
31:59 for 10km (1.18%)
Last week I set a PB of 32:22 after a good block of training. Now I want to run quicker. I can definitely manage this, if not in the spring then in the Autumn. I have a couple of races in mind where I will have a go.
69:59 for half marathon (1.13%)
This one’s more likely to happen later in the year when I hope to run a half on a flat course. Of all the ones listed here it is the one I want the most, mainly because it starts with a different number and therefore automatically sounds more impressive. It’s 5:20 per mile or 3:19 per km. I managed 9 miles at that pace in September; now let’s see if I can do it for the full distance. My current PB is 70:47.
Note: I calculated the percentages after writing the post. It is interesting to see the difference between what I feel is more difficult and what the numbers actually say.
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!