Joining Romsey Road Runners has proved to be a really valuable stimulus to better races. For the first time ever, I'm doing regular (i.e. weekly) structured training, and this has started to translate into more speed across all types of races.
I ran the third of the cross-country series today after a lengthy and unplanned gap from racing. I stupidly missed the second one at Goodwood three weeks ago.
The weather was glorious - bright winter sunshine and little wind on a crisp afternoon of long shadows. I set off quite conservatively, mentally gearing up for lots of repetition - not just one short and three long circuits, but zig-zags up and down the sloping fields.
I felt that the pacing as just about right. I overtook plenty of runners, but in the later stages I had to work hard to keep my breathing under control and prevent myself blowing up. This is the best spectator's race of the series and it was great to have family support in three places on each lap.
The final leg is a straight downhill blast which is great fun. I could hear pounding behind me and I could see the shadows catching up on me which really spurred me on in the final seconds.
I finished in 78th place which was good - 22 places up on last year. Even more pleasing was the time: 36:55 against last year's 39:01. Conditions were better this year but this is really encouraging.
Here are a couple of photos courtesy of Paul Hammond.
What's different? I'm now doing structured evening training sessions with Romsey Road Runners every week. It's just possible that this is putting a spring in my step. Watch this space.
Today's race was the start of the 2013/14 cross-country season. The first race was at Reading, instead of Farley Mount where I've run it for the last two years.
Getting to Reading is a right pfaff. The city of Reading may be a lovely place for all I know... but unfortunately my only experience of it is horrendous approach roads and flyovers. Really, really awful. That said, Prospect Park is a decent-sized place near to the centre of Reading, and it was a remarkably balmy (18 degrees) and sunny October afternoon.
I got there quite late. I met Mick and Mark A and just had time to learn that there were too complicated laps. A quick pee in a hedge and I was at the start line only just in time. The course is flat playing field with a stinger of a hill in one corner which you go up and down twice in each lap. Crikey, was it hard work - but it was the saving grace from what would otherwise have been circuits of a big playing field.
I must have started too fast. I overtook a number of runners in the first few minutes, but once over the hill I found that I was struggling with my breath, and others were one by one overtaking me. Into the second lap, a gasping push up and down the hills and back onto the endless grass circuit.
I finished number 72, which was actually quite respectable. I had to have a full-on knackered lie-down on the grass afterwards. I was very pleased with my new spikes, which were comfortable and did the job perfectly. I still have bruised big toenails from the Clarendon 2 weeks ago.
It was a beautiful sunny day with negligible wind. Perfect marathon weather. The lovely Mrs S took me to the start in Salisbury where I met Peat, Andy and Buster, all of us excited and just a little apprehensive - classic pre-marathon stuff.
Me and Peat, ready for the off
Getting the pace right is so important, and it's quite tricky on an event like this where relay and marathon runners are starting together. I set off with 12-15 runners ahead of me. I tried a new policy of taking gels every 30 minutes, and kept a steady pace.
The first half went quickly. I came down the hill into Broughton after exactly 90 minutes, feeling good and buoyed by seeing Mum, Dad and Sue waving madly.
The approach to Broughton and the halfway point
From then on I could feel my legs starting to hurt. I walked a bit up the very steep slope after Kings Somborne but kept a good pace up the long drag to Farley Mount. I overtook 3 or so marathon runners from about 18 miles on... they weren't looking too good. I kept taking the gels every 30 minutes, and I was feeling OK.
About 3 miles to go, at Farley Mount
The last couple of km are quite deceptive. I kept thinking that I could see the final hill, but it wasn't, and then I recognised the hill, but there was less of it than I had remembered from previous encounters in quite groggy conditions.
About 200m to go
I felt remarkably good at the final finish. I wasn't even inclined to have a little lie-down. Everything had come together very nicely. I was third place overall which was very satisfactory, although I would have loved to have been the first rather than second >40. Next year...
As of last Tuesday (1 October) I am a Romsey Road Runner. After 13 years I am saying goodbye to Hardley. You've been fantastic, Hardley, and I'm sorry to leave... but I really want to get involved in club stuff, including evening training... and Romsey is the local club and less than 10 minutes away rather than 40 or so.
Tomorrow is the Clarendon Marathon. Plenty of miles under my belt and I'm looking forward to it greatly... but I'm acutely aware of the respect and caution that a marathon requires. I've been trying my best to be good and not rush around too much today, and eat plenty, but it's not as fun as it sounds. I feel sluggish, bloaty and lethargic. Buy then again I also know full well that this happens every time. Roll on tomorrow.
It was a remarkably muggy and warm September morning. The whole area around Hursley School was buzzing with people - this is an event which has become well loved and respected over the few years that it's been taking place. Matt, Mark A and I trotted around a field for a few minutes (missing the raucous aerobics-style warm-up) and I was a pool of sweat five minutes before the start.
I set off at a fairly brisk pace in the front pack of about 10 runners. I felt strong and it was enjoyable. I passed 5k in 18:43, aware that it was my lungs that were the limiting factor - I was right at the top of the aerobic zone, and I had to pant on even modest slopes.
Oomph
I pulled into 4th position on the main uphill drag around km 7. The final 2.5k is almost all downhill. I kept the pressure on, but into the final grassy straight I sensed someone behind me. It was Huw Davies, who belted past me and I had nothing left.
0 mph
I finished in 37:55, in 5th place. Annoyingly, Huw had taken the 1st M40 slot by 4 seconds, but otherwise I was chuffed - this was 36 seconds faster than last year (which was admittedly in wetter conditions) and just 17 seconds slower than my 37:37 at the Eastleigh 10k in March, a road event. Compare these:
2012 Hursley 10k
2013 Hursley 10k
After finishing I ran home via the Monarch's Way and Test Way - another 21k - keeping an eye on my mileage for Clarendon in 2 weeks' time. It's a gentle taper from here on.
This year's RR10 season has finished and the results are now in. I'm always a sucker for data, so here goes.
I've done the requisite 6 races to score in 3 years; 2007, 2010 and 2013.
2007 Men's league: 18th place of 242 full scorers Graded results: 32nd, beating 90.64% of blokes overall
2010 Men's league: 25th= and 12th vet of 172 full scorers Graded results: 39th, beating 85.74% of blokes overall
2013 Men's league: 21st= and 5th vet of 173 full scorers Graded results: 38th, beating 89.31% of blokes overall
I'm not sure how much can be meaningfully drawn from this, but this year's results are better than 2010 and quite close to 2007 which is very pleasing, given that I was a mere 30-something at the time.
Next year's target: <20th overall, graded result >90%..
On Sunday I ran home after a family walk at Shawford - a combination of the Monarch's Way and the Test Way. It was about 28km, it took nearly 2.5 hours (including getting lost a couple of times) and I was utterly done for afterwards. Not a contented, happy and hungry sort of tired, but a proper, world-weary ennui sort of tired. I hobbled around afterwards thinking 'Do I really want to do this marathon thing again? Do I really want to spend the next 7 weeks pounding around tripping over roots, ploughing through mud and getting stung on big endurance runs when I could do a quick 5k and have a beer?'
The next day we had a family trip to Longleat and I was in quite a lot of discomfort as we walked around. Strictly no running. And then on Tuesday I did about 19k, mainly off-road and quite hilly... and it was a breeze. A swift 9k today and all is well.
I'm not saying that I'm over the hump completely, but this is a classic pattern for the start of endurance-length training... a real period of grey funk before the system starts to respond... and maybe I've reached the end of the beginning. The difference is that now I'm looking forward to marathon season and all that it entails.
This was the ninth race in the series of ten and my last - I'll be in Devon in a fortnight's time. Itchen Valley Country Park is a great venue, with grassy hills and swervy tracks through woodland, and I was eager to beat my worst-scoring position of 27th.
Off we went at quite a brisk tempo. I was catching people up and felt OK, although after 15 minutes I was working hard. Last lap, and I knew we were heading downhill in the direction of the finish. I could see the tape of the funnel ahead and I pelted with everything I had left... only to find that it was just tape marking the gap in a hedge. OK, I thought, I know the finish is in the corner of the field... I'm just one field and about 300metres ahead of myself... But then we we were marshalled down into the woods for a circuitous pfaff about before emerging at the finish. Crikey, it was hard work keeping any kind of pace going, and I was done for at the end with a less-than-satisfactory 30th place.
It's been a great RR10 season with plenty of battles and adventures. Final results analysis in a couple of weeks after hols.
Wednesday was a two-race special. I had a day's leave to represent Ordnance Survey at the Civil Service 10k championships in Battersea Park in London, and in the evening I ran the 8th RR10 of the season at Janesmoor Pond. Guess which I preferred?
It was hot and humid in London - around 26 degrees - and the course is 4 dead-flat circuits. Two others - Paul and James - were planning to pace it for a 37:40 time, which sounded perfect. The gun went off, but within seconds it was clear that I wasn't going to keep up with them. I heaved around, and with one lap down was in quiet despair at having to do the same three more times.
But then anatomy reared its ugly head. I started wishing I'd visited the lav beforehand. It got worse. I thought about taking a detour to the bogs in the changing area, but that would add minutes to my time. I considered which bushes I could dive into, and then thought about the implications of dire consequences in a heavily used family park. With a lot of focus I kept going... but it wasn't fun.
I finished in 38:50, a pretty ropey time. I wasn't feeling well. Others in the group were also suffering in the heat, although 2 of us managed PBs - amazing. Paul L threw up and Alex E had heart palpitations... not very clever.
My friend Matt drove me back from London. We stopped home for a cup of tea and then went on to Janesmoor Pond. There we met Mick and Mark A, both of whom who had also run in London. 'What are we doing here?' we all wondered.
We set off and it was a big relief. Forest paths with mud, roots, overhanging branches and plenty of hills are so much more fun than the hot hamster wheel of the afternoon. I became very weary in the second half but it was infinitely more enjoyable. Janesmoor Pond has a fun little sting in the tail - a tough hill to the finish - and I finished a bit of a wreck in 37th place. No cigar, but I was quite pleased on the whole.
Next RR10 stop is Itchen Park on 7 August... I need to beat my worst scoring position of 27th... and I'll be a lot better primed than I was today.
A warm and sunny evening the middle of a July heatwave, and the seventh in the terrific RR10 series took place at Marwell. Parking was in the zoo carpark and the race was in the fields and woods behind.
400m into the race and we headed down a hill with tree roots everywhere. It was quite precarious with the field still very dense. The around a beautiful meadow of long grass with a singe-file trail in it. This posed a dilemma - ease up and go steady in my place or go off piste through long straggly grass? I did a mixture of both, and managed (just) not to trip up in tangles. Then two laps of an interesting circuit - a long drag up through a sunny path and thena terrific hurtle down through a shady green lane lane.
I was gradually overtaking people and felt OK... but near the end I was suddenly overtaken by a lady and jolted into response. I overtook up the final hill and gasped my way to the finish line. A big effort always requires a lie-down afterwards and this was one of those.
The result - 27th place which is my worst this season but keeps my grouping fairly tight.
Here is my standing in the men's league so far:
...and here are the graded scores (numbers representing % of men I've beaten):
Three more races to go... and I improve on these scores?
Manor Farm Country Park is a beautiful spot on the Hamble Valley. It was a sunny evening and there was a busy turnout - so much so that parking proved a challenge for many. I arrived unusually early (for me) having arrived off the train from London at Southampton Parkway a few minutes earlier, and changed out of my suit while cars cruised around forlornly looking for spaces.
What a great course! The first section was very technical; a narrow wiggly path through thick woods with twists, turns, branches and roots all over the place. Then onto more open terrain where I overtook a few runners but was conscious that I was working hard - in fact, right at the top of my threshold. Then down onto the edge of the Hamble river and finally a murderous, terrible hill towards the finish. I lost a couple of places here, not least to Mark Causebrook, whom I'd overtaken earlier, and I collapsed in exhaustion at the finish. I was as wiped out as I have been for a long time.
The result - 23rd place which is bang in the middle of my range this season. Here are the results so far.
On Saturday my friend Paul and I cycled 211 km through Hampshire, Wiltshire, Oxfordshire and Berkshire. Here's the route:
We set off at 5am in glorious early morning sunshine, and arrived back home at 5pm after an excellent but quite challenging ride.
Here are the stats:
Distance: 211.93 km
Travelling time: 9:35:25
Average speed: 22.1 km/h
Max speed: 61.9 km/h
Here's a profile of the route:
The hardest bit was heading south and immediately encountering Blowingstone Hill... and from there it was almost all in to the teeth of a brisk south-westerly wind. It got easier on the big descent from Coombe Gibbet!
It was the first time I'd done this course. It's a long journey to a spot between Lee-on-the-Solent and Gosport; not easy to get to in the evening rush hour and on top of that it was an uninviting day; drizzly and windy.
I dithered a bit about whether to go, but I was swayed by the thought that if the turnout was lower then I had better chance of a good result. Having arrived at the venue cutting the timings a bit fine, off we went around Alver Park. It's a curious place; partly wetland nature reserve, partly an infilled landfill site, and there was something quite atmospheric about the bleak and slightly salty seaside air blowing around this rather blasted but verdant landscape.
We criss-crossed the southern part of this area until I lost all sense of the route, and it was only the strong wind that helped provide any sense of direction. Mist and drizzle were everywhere. I ran well, and was pleased to overtake Mark Causebrook from Hardley who had beaten me at Stoney Cross. However, I found the last little lap adjacent to the finish line a struggle. With no runners close by in front or behind I nodded off a bit and was beaten in the final metres by David Coak from Eastleigh.
Final result: 17th place, which was excellent, although buoyed by reduced numbers. That puts me in 14th place in the overall standings to date.
Yesterday I ran the Romsey Beer Race. It's a 5-mile course around the lanes of Braishfield, and at the end they give you a pint of beer and a slice of cake. How cool is that?
The weather is doing that rare and wonderful British thing - settled summer weather with warmth and sunshine all round. The whole event had a lovely atmosphere and was wreathed in gorgeous early-summer colours.
I made an effort to set off at a sensible pace. A slight drag uphill for the first mile, where I glanced at my watch - 6:05. Hmmm... that made sub-30 minutes seem a bit challenging. The next mile was quicker with a gentle downhill component and I hit 2 miles at 11:40, making it a brisk 5:35 for the second mile. I was paying less attention to the clock than to two familiar faces around me; Dan and Jim, who have been my main competitors in the RR10s this year. I left Dan behind (turns out he had a cold) but at halfway I was tucked behind three runners including Jim.
This little group pulled away in the second lap, especially when we caught up with the tail end of lap 1 runners and it became harder to concentrate on the competition. The last km or so was hard work with no one close in front or behind. I was thrilled to finish in 29:46, nicely under the 30 barrier.
A super morning out. The beer and cake were both delicious!
This was a new course and it was well-designed... a great mix of technical sections and good gravel track, and even better, no laps. I was nervous at the start that my road shoes might prove to e a bad choice, but all was well.
A guy at the start stood on a crate and told us it was an 8k course. I set off cautiously and spent most of the race happily picking others off. I kept Dan Powell firmly in my sights and I geared myself to stay close behind him and let him do the pacing. However, suddenly there was awful swearing and Dan was hopping about on one foot, the other stuck in mud. (Apparently this happened to him twice.)
7k on the GPS and we were heading uphill towards the finish. I was trying to pace it carefully. At around 7.4k, Jim Davies from Lordshill passed me (Jim overtook me in the dying seconds of the Stoney Cross race two weeks before). A few paces later I went around a bend... and there was the finish. I had just been gearing up for a last push and felt a bit swindled that it had finished early and I still had more to give.
Still, 21st place was OK. I'm now 20th in the league, in between Jim and Dan.
Over the last few weeks I've become increasingly focused on running the Eastleigh parkrun course in under 19 minutes. It's an interesting 5k course with lots of turns and some respectable slopes. I've recently completed it in 19:04 and then 19:03, which made the challenge inevitable.
I managed to fumble the stopwatch again on Saturday morning which meant I hadn't a clue how I was doing time-wise. However, it was a fascinating race. I very soon found myself head-to-head with Dave Maule from Eastleigh RC. Dave, distinctive with his tattooed arms and Vibram footwear, has beaten me twice in the Hursley 10k. At the end of lap 1 (of 3) we were dead level. I was hoping that he would pace me to a sub-19.
However, soon afterwards I became aware of runners catching from behind. Soon after I could hear runners talking... yes, talking! At the same point that Dave slipped back, I was overtaken by a young boy, accompanied by a guy who was coaching through the race. They both slipped past me, shortly before the end of lap 2, with the older guy saying 'that's it, now you can start to open up'. Soon after this another runner overtook me, and I tried by best to keep the pressure up, now in fourth place.
An un eventful third lap, but I really had to labour over the hill and it was a proper lie-down-and-gasp job at the finish. I went to congratulate the winner; he's Archie Ives, aged just 12. A real privilege to run with such a talented athlete.
I had to wait till the afternoon to see the results... and I finished in 18:59. I was thrilled - it had been a terrific race.
This was the second of the 2013 series. I was late getting there and I went haring down the hill to the start, or at least where the start had been in previous years... before it dawned on me that there wasn't another runner in sight. I charged up the hill again and looked around - and there were the club flags, way over on the other side of the car park. Three minutes to go - I ran over and got into position with just a minute or so remaining.
The first mile was all downhill. I ran quickly and easily, but all too aware of the drag home that was in store. The middle section of the race involved a lot of turns within the dense woodland and some exciting soft ground which made for quite a technical course with no real clue how much further there was to go.
Nice and quick on the downhill...
And then the drag home... at this point a few people overtook me and I could feel myself slipping. I cursed myself for setting off so fast and panted as I struggled to hang in there. Out of the woods, on to the high ground of Stoney Cross, to the finish line... and to my astonishment I was 22nd, 3 places up on the first race. Fantastic! My calves were in bits and I was a heaving wreck - but it was a good result.
...but it soon got tougher
Next race target - sub-20th, or first Hardley (I've been second both races) or both.
Last weekend I ran the Eastleigh parkrun with the aim of finishing in under 19 minutes.
Southampton is a much flatter and faster course but I like Eastleigh as it's smaller and with more interesting terrain... in the depths of winter it was really a mini cross-country course with plenty of mud around. My best time at Southampton is 18:22, while at Eastleigh I've been chasing the 19 minute barrier.
Last summer I ran my best time of 19:05. A few weeks ago on 6th April the ground had dried out and it was a faster course again. To my great surprise I came over the line in first place with 19:04.
On Saturday I set off fast and after a minute my legs were sore and my breath ragged. three people overtook me in the first km and I struggled to hang on. I pushed hard with no stopwatch to guide me (the battery failed 30 seconds after the gun) and I had no idea how I was doing. I finished in 3rd place (not sure what happened there - one of the runners can't have been placed - I was 4th really )and awaited the results email - 19:03! After a struggle and a race where I didn't feel strong this was a very satisfactory result.
Next time - another second will be fine, another 4 seconds will be fantastic. And then I'll have another crack at Southampton and see what I can do on the flat.
I've become intrigued in recent days by race time predictor formulae. This interest was sparked by an article from the Fetch website about the limitations of the classic Reigel formula, which is:
T2 = T1 x (D2/D1)1.06
D1 = the distance you've already run
T1 = the time it took you
D2 = the distance you're about to run
T2 = the predicted time.
This means that as a standard rule, your running performance drops by 6% when the race distance doubles.
I was intrigued by this, on 2 counts:
1 - is the distance decay factor different for everyone?
2 - does the decay factor apply across all distances?
I don't have much good data to work with because relatively few of my races are of the flat road variety. After thinking a bit, I dug out 2 comparative sets of times:
From 2006... I ran the Bath half marathon in 1:21:24 and the London marathon in 2:45:48.
More recently... My most recent Southampton parkrun time is 18:22 and my Eastleigh 10k time was 37:35.
I then found an excellent web resource on the Good Run Guide website . It allows you to play with different decay factors. I bunged the results above in and got the following:
Half-marathon to marathon: decay of 5.2%
5k to 10k: decay of 3.8%
Interesting on both counts. I'm not remotely surprised that the marathon performance has a higher dip, because the last 6 miles of a marathon are debilitating like nothing else and only the superhuman can keep going at the pace of the previous 20 miles.
I'm also intrigued about the age factor... do runners generally get a lower decay factor as they get older, reflecting a lower overall speed but a relative improvement over longer distances?
On Wednesday I ran in the first RR10 race of the season at Netley Abbey. Netley is one of my favourite venues, with a great mix of landscape and terrain... but it's also one of my least favourite places to reach, with inevitable early-evening traffic and very limited alternative route options. I thought I was going to arrive late, after sitting on the M27 for 10 minutes, but the start was delayed so I was fine.
I set off quite briskly and was glad for a section of single-file traffic, which allowed me to steady the pace and get my rhythm. I was overtaking people regularly and I felt good. The 2 laps included a section of beach - nothing on the scale of the Grizzly, but enough to be interesting.
I finished in 24th place, which was a good result. The race field seemed larger than usual, and it later turned out that there were 398 runners - a record. That's fantastic, but why so? A friend at work reckoned it's the parkrun effect; in any case, it's terrific to be part of something that's growing so healthily.
The other day I found a hand-written account of my part in the Cambridge Lent Bumps of 1992 as number 6 rower in the Queens' College Third Eight.
It's a bit off-topic, but it's the single experience which fired up my sporting competitiveness and self-belief... for me, this event was utterly transformative. For background, here is an overview of what this is all about... and here is a more in-depth description.
It was the first time ever that I had really become involved in any sport. I have never been coordinated at ball sports, and as such my presence on a pitch has usually been the weakest link in a lack-lustre team. I had rowed briefly at school, but as a scrawny and unenthusiastic teenager I found it to be a mind-numbingly tedious activity.
In January, training began in earnest. I was openly disgruntled about the amount of time commitment that was expected of the crew; three to five outings on the river per week, plus weight training, running and (occasional) ergo sessions. In practice, it wasn't so bad, once I got off the baseline of relative lack of fitness, I began to feel increasing pride in the amount of physical work I could do. As a crew, we all got on extremely well; there must be some kind of bonding process which is forged by the dismal silence of the early morning rendezvous in the porter's lodge. Our rowing was, however, a bit mediocre. We were unable to balance the boat, which made us slow in the waterappear pitifully amateur. I foresaw the Bumps as an event which might possibly be exciting, but an ordeal nonetheless to be got over and done with. In one race earlier in the term my slide had got disoldged three times, making for a rotten afternoon.
On the first day of the Bumps we felt gleeful pride in catching Selwyn's boat. We had been allocated a new Aylings craft, and remarkably we could sit it... our confidence was transformed. It was a long, hard push to catch Selwyn, having been assured that we should catch them in the first two minutes. The excitement of hearing one, two and then three whistle blasts as we inched up on them fuelled the adrenalin, and afterwards I wanted to be sick.
The second day, by contrast, was all over barely as soon as we had got into our stride. It was a rough, windy day, and destructive collisions were happening all along the course. Two wins out of two, but none of us felt that we had deserved it so far.
By the third day, the Bumps had suddenly began to matter much more. I dreamed about them the night before and found myself fidgeting in anticipation all morning. If we bumped today, we would have everything to go for. Four bumps out of four is regarded as the pinnacle of achievement and entitles you to have your own illuminated blade.
The crew's concentration as we rowed down to the start was impeccable, and our rowing more precise than it had ever been. What a race! It was a drawn-out version of day 1, in which we rowed like fury but were unable to catch Addenbrookes right up to the finish line. There, past the crowds at the Pike and Eel, Addenbrookes abruptly ran out of steam and we bumped them just a boat length away from the end of the course. Physically and mentally, we were drained.
On the fourth day, we were really in with a chance of glory. I was desperately keyed up, and the minutes before the vstarting gun were agony. We began with a superb start, and as we rowed into the first corner the whistles began; we were closing in with a frenzy of exhilaration and anticipation. This was it.
And then it happened. Another boat which had already bumped was tucked into an already tight corner. The boat, with its poor rudder response, was unable to get around it. We crashed noisily. Fleeting joy, then panic and despair as we looked over our shoulders and realised that we had hit the wrong boat, and our quarry was now receding into the distance. More drama then unfolded. The Addenbrookes boat that we had bumped the day before smashed into us at high speed, and promptly sank. I am left with a vision in my mind of the crew swimming to the bank, with two oarsmen standing in the submerged hull, waving frantically at another oncoming boat to stop. The two hundred or so spectators on the bank were also roaring for it to stop, which it did - just in time. Our boat was badly damagedat the bow, and the stern four (I included) had to row the half-submerged craft back to the boathouse, to be greeted by howls of laughter from the crowds on the bank.
It was the ultimate ignominy after such close glory. Victory had been so tantalisingly near, and I had become emotionally involved in sport in a way that I had never done before. We almost scooped the top prize, but it got snatched away from us. Such is the unpredictability of the Bumps.
This morning I ran the Eastleigh 10k; a prestigious event with a field of over 2500. I haven't entered a fast road race for ages and in fact I didn't enter this one - my friend Matt offered me his place and I thought it would be a good gauge of my speed. Back in the 90s, I was very focused on times and fast road courses - my record-keeping is not great, but I think my best was the Highworth 10k in 2005 when I ran 35:51.
It was cold this morning - a numbing 2 degrees with a light east wind. Like everyone else, I tried to stay indoors as long as possible before the start. I positioned myself about 8 runners deep from the start line; the gun went and off we set at a cracking pace.
In fact it was a blistering pace and it started to dawnn on me that I had set off too far up the field. This set the tone for the whole race. Every few metres, I was being overtaken. Sometimes one or two and other times a whole phalanx of them - both men and ladies; some very short and some really rather old. I kept up the pressure but I can't say I enjoyed it much as I slipped further and further down the order. My personal racing rule - overtaking good, being overtaken bad!
I finished in a heaving mess with 37:38 on the clock - no disaster, but I know I could have done better with more intelligent pacing. It was also my first run in a while after a rotten cold, which can't have helped. It was a very different event to the cross-country races and events like Hursley 10k... but a great learning experience and a well organised and marshalled event on the chilliest of days.
Here are the results (I was 139th of just over 2000) and here are the split times from the Garmin. First km in 3:29... that was my undoing.
The Grizzly is a simply fabulous race. 20 miles of stunning scenery and terrain, shingle beaches, cliffs, bogs, forests and steep grassy slopes, all provided with quirky, offbeat good humour. It inspires poetry, passion and excitement and all 1400 places sell out in about an hour. Here's a nice little promotional video which gives a bit of a flavour.
I did my first Grizzly in 2008 and have been going back ever since.
It was a freezing cold day - 2 degrees, a vicious east wind and rain forecast. I sat in a cafe with my friends Peat, Sue and John beforehand discussing kit. Deciding what to wear isn't straightforward - to little and you can freeze, too much and you can be lugging around a load of unwanted stuff for three hours. I decided to go with a simple long-sleeved shirt under my club singlet together with hat and gloves.
The first highlight of the race happens before the start, when the Town Crier roars 'oh yea!' into a microphone three times and everyone roars back. He yells out a poem and then shouts 'God save the Queen!' The resulting cheer is huge and quite moving.
Here's a link to the route. We started with about 1km of beach, which is utterly energy sapping and puts you firmly in your place. Having woken up with a cold the day before, I was determined to be conservative in my pacing, and I kept the pacing low-key.
Over the hill to Beer and then another climb to Branscombe - all reasonably familiar territory. The recent rain had made the slopes very slippery, particularly where a thin layer of mud sat on even rocks. From Branscombe, we were off into the twists, turns and crazy slopes of the course itself - and the route changes every year. The route is very well marshalled (it has to be, or you'd be lost before you know it) and peppered with hand-painted quotations on boards, such as:
'Be there before you leave here'
'You are, therefore I am'
'If it is gone and you are still here, then you did not need it'
'Overcome by undergoing'
'7/5 of people do not understand fractions'
...not to mention a Buddhist shrine, a memorial to absent friends and lone pipers in the most remote possible places. Is there any other event remotely like it?
After about 90 minutes my gloves went on, and soon after that it started gently sleeting. I was feeling good; starting to feel the strain in my legs but holding it together. I was starting to overtake others, which felt good.
And then the bog! This my personal highlight of the race - about 50 metres of proper gloopy, swampy mire that goes up to your knees. It's hilarious and wonderful and exhausting. Soon after that was my next favourite bit, a rush downhill past the Fountainhead pub with a tunnel of people cheering you on.
A few minutes later I was back on Branscombe beach.... the bit where if it can go wrong, it will. As well as the kilometre of debilitating shingle beach, sleet was blowing in our faces. I overtook a few poor guys on the beach who weren't looking too good. And then, through the under cliff - a twisty climb up and up and then the infamous Stairway to Heaven, taking you right up the cliff. I've suffered horribly here before, groaning with exhaustion... but this time I felt OK and managed to wave my arms for the photographer.
Up onto the brow of the hill and the strength of the wind made my gasp. I pulled my hat on and realised how cold I was, and in particular my hands. On and on with more urgency now, back to Beer and then the final push to Seaton. From the cliff top onwards I had an invisible presence just behind my left shoulder. I kept enough pressure up to hold him off, and as we neared the finish I could tell it was going to be a fight to the end. I moved up a gear, and he responded. I accelerated again, and so did he. I pushed once more but too early, and he cruised past me to the finish. I'm sure he pushed me to be a minute faster than I would otherwise have run.
More pressing, though, was the terrible state of my hands. They were slabs of chilled meat on the ends of my arms. I struggled to hold the banana and t-shirt that were given to me. My clothes were all wet with sleet and I hobbled my way as quickly as I could to Peat's car, where I found the hidden key and after a lot of struggling with laces and fiddly bits of clothing, managed to get some dry kit on.
I have rarely been so cold in my life. I was now dry and dressed up in several layers, but I was in a right state, shivering uncontrollably. Meanwhile Peat had turned up, ecstatic after a huge improvement in his race over previous years, and not being remotely frozen (it's usually the other way around). We went off the cafe and were soon joined by Sue. I was soon eating hot soup and feeling more human.
Here are the results - 48th place overall, which is middling for my 6 years - best is 36th (2008), worst is 65th (2010). I'm pretty satisfied overall, given that my lungs weren't working at full throttle. Now, next year...
Here are the GPS stats, and here are the official photos of the day; I tried smiling in some of them, but most of them are characteristically awful.
This morning I ran the John Austin half marathon - a super race in the New Forest which begins and ends in Brockenhurst and is entirely off-road. It's led by a horse and rider - how cool is that?
It was a cold day - 3 degrees, and a bitter east wind. It was quite a trudge from the race HQ to the start, with the family all bravely in tow.
It's race of three parts... here's the route:
The first five miles is all through forest plantations, which were reasonably sheltered. Then bam! and you're onto the WWII Beaulieu airfield which is flat but hugely exposed to the wind on certain legs. It was a relief to come off this. Just like last year, it was at the end of the airfield stretch that I felt myself gaining on the runners ahead and started picking them off as we went into the final phase; narrow tracks with much more undulation and plenty of thick mud in parts.
With about 2 miles to go I was gaining ground on a runner who was clearly >40 (no offence mate, but I've got more hair than you) and I was determined to beat him. It was a question of reeling him in very slowly, and when I made my move to past him he said something that I couldn't hear but indicated that the fight had left him. There was no one else in sight ahead and I just tried to keep the pressure on.
Quite suddenly you seem to emerge from the woods and get diverted through a posh manorial estate, downhill through a very ornate gatehouse, over a quite technical pedestrian railway bridge and you're into Brockenhurst College grounds for the finish. Hooray!
Feeling good as I enter Brockenhurst College
Or not. I'd forgotten about the final lap of honour around the playing fields. This was really hard work and I felt myself stumbling around a bit, terrified that my bald chaser was gaining on me. He didn't, and I arrived in 1:25:24 - here are the results. This was nearly a minute and a half up on last year which was through dreadful rainstorms but probably similar wind conditions, so pretty satisfactory, I reckon. At the finish I was in bits; my face had lost all movement and I could only mumble. I tried to have a little lie-down on the grass when I was yelled at and realised I was on the course.
Feeling done-for as I finish, after an unwelcome tour of the playing fields
I was 10th overall and 2nd M40, a bit down from last year, but it was undoubtedly a stronger field this year.
For the last three weeks I've been doing longer-distance training in preparation for (a) the John Austin half marathon this coming Sunday and (b) the Grizzly next weekend. A crucial component of this is running to work and back, a round trip of about 16.5 miles.
It's always exciting doing this in February because the light evenings aren't there yet. The journey takes about an hour and it's 90% cross-country along the Test Way. The final part of the home route takes me through Squabb Wood, which is dark and very boggy, even at the best of times.
Last week I didn't get away from work as early as I had hoped. It was 5.25 when I finally started running and it was getting very dark as I entered the wood. I wasn't too worried, though - I had brought a head torch with me.
With a little pool of light in front of me, I could see the 2-3 metres ahead nice and clearly - no tripping over roots or running in to branches. However... I soon lost the path and found myself in the middle of the wood. I went right and then left but I couldn't find the path. Of course, at this point I should have been sensible and retraced my steps. Of course, I didn't - I pressed on, figuring that if I headed in a kind-of 10 o'clock direction and keeping uphill, I'd come out in the right place.
Errr, no. I went on and on and eventually stumbled out in a clearing behind a chain-link face. I knew it had to be somewhere on the perimeter of the Squabb Wood extraction/landfill site, but where? I then noticed the last rays of sunlight on my right. Hang on... Work to home was a northbound journey and here I was heading South.
I called home to say don't flap, I'll be a few more minutes but my battery cut out, luckily just after delivering the slightly embarrassing message. I ventured around the perimeter of the fence until I came across vehicle tracks and from there it was quite straightforward to find the road.
Here's the map:
My big lessons for the day:
1 - running by torchlight in a wood is a tricksy business, when you can't see the path for the trees;
2 - it's unbelievably easy to turn 180 degrees when you think you're running in a straight line.
Raw geographical intuition confounded 2 miles from home. Bah.
The Hampshire cross-country season is over. The last of the five league races was at Hudson''s Field in Salisbury on Saturday, and I was back on the case after missing the January race with Shingles.
It was a foul day. We had thick wet snow in the morning and by the afternoon it had resolved to a murky cold mist. As we left the house, stripping down and running around a playing field was the last thing I felt like doing.
In the event, I loved it. The perimeter of the fields had been churned into mud, which made it quite a technical route. Add to that some interesting little slopes and chicanes, and I didn't mind the complicated laps. I had a great battle with a runner from Eastleigh AC and finished in 54th position - my best by a long way this season... although this was partly due to a smaller field of runners. Even more pleasing, I made it into 10th place veteran position for the league as a whole. Interestingly, my finish time was exactly the same as the same event last year, but given the conditions underfoot I reckon that's an improvement.
A very satisfactory end to the season. I'm very grateful to the organisers and marshals who brave hours on end at these events being very cheerful and stoic despite getting thoroughly wet and cold. And of course thank you to the lovely Mrs S for braving the elements for photo taking and very welcome support!
A selection of photos:
Near the start - I'm wearing the hi-vis gloves
The runner from Eastleigh... we battled for much of the race
Today I ran the 30km course of the Stonehenge Stomp in Salisbury Plain. It poured with rain last night, but thank goodness it was dry and sunny today, albeit leaving a waterlogged landscape.
It is an LDWA event - i.e. a picturesque route for walkers at which runners are welcomed. I turned up at Amesbury just a few minutes before the 10am deadline. I was given a route description, but I really can't be doing with those so I stuck it in my pocket and asked to see a map. I was lent a highlighter pen and traced the route out on my Explorer map - and happened to draw it anticlockwise because that suited the side of the map that was facing me. I set off, unthinkingly following the route in the direction I had drawn.
Twenty minutes on, I was wondering why I hadn't seen anyone else. Then a couple of runners came towards me. It dawned on me that I had been spectacularly stupid in setting off in the wrong direction. I felt like an idiot every time I met a walker or runner. Then I got to the first (last) checkpoint and confessed what an eejit I'd been. 'What's your number?' I was asked. My checkpoint card was with the route description. I fumbled through all my pockets. They were both gone. So now I was doubly useless - the man who was going the wrong way without a number.
The scenery was spectacular over the high ground, and Stonehenge was looking terrific. Later on there were very muddy tracks and paths which took all my energy and wit just to stay upright. For the last third of the course I was completely alone and feeling very sore and tired after very little running in January. I finished in a very sedate 2:50. It was well worth doing as a first step to getting my longer-distance legs back - only 5 weeks till the John Austin and the Grizzly is the week after that.
January has been something of a fallow month. I've been cycling to work, but I've tried hard to be good in giving myself time to recover from shingles.
I have gone mad and bought myself two new pairs of shoes, both road (Asics Nimbus Gel - I've been getting these for years), and off-road (Adidas Swoops). I've been hanging on to my old shoes for as long as I could, but after 18 months of use they're both looking a bit venerable.
Out with the old, in with the new
So - next stop the Stonehenge Stomp as a kick-start for the new season.
Yesterday I was diagnosed as having shingles, and I'm less than chuffed.
Visibly, I have a rash forming a line right around the right side of my
torso from front to back. My right side was very tender for a few days
beforehand, but at the moment the spots are really no problem. What's
bothering me are the invisible symptoms, specifically:
(a) an acute awareness of my kidneys. When I walk, it feels like a
couple of cricket balls are thumping about in my back. Running just
isn't an option at the moment.
(b) a strange tightness in the muscles my my abdomen and thighs, which
means that just about any sitting or lying position is uncomfortable...
and that makes night time a challenge.
The lack of exercise is starting to get to me, but my main concern is
missing the next cross-country league race in Bournemouth on 12 Jan.
I'm trying to be sensible, but it's frustrating.
