Dorset Invader half 2018

After a series of races in heatwave conditions, this was a taste of the wettest and blowiest that the English summer can offer.  The lovely Mrs S and I got up for a horrifyingly early start and drove to deepest Dorset in persistent squally rain.  Our coats got soaked just getting our race numbers.  We huddled in the damp car as long as we could and then stripped down to race wear and headed off the a barn for the briefing.  There was a slightly hysterical atmosphere of 300 runners all volubly wondering what the hell we were all thinking of.

The magnificence of the car park slightly undone by the weather

The forecast was a bit grim

Whose idea was this?

The start was supposed to be a magnificent downhill charge led by a mounted Roman centurion.  No one could see much or hear much over the rain and the wind, and the downhill charge was considered unsafe, so it was a lot less dramatic from the off.  The horse and centurion did look fab, though.

About 1km in, I could make out one or two front runners, then a group of three, then me.  Someone was a few metres behind and kept up a steady pressure.  The landscape wasn't too hilly, but had plenty of long drags, stony, muddy paths and overhanging nettles and brambles.  About 9km in, I climbed steep steps to a disused railway line where there was a flat 2k section, and I managed to put a bit of space in front of my pursuer.  At this point I realised that I was closing the gap on the runner in front... and it was the same group of 3 that I'd seen near the start.  I closed the gap and glided past, but one of them hung on to my tail and stayed just behind me.  I wasn't sure whether to be pleased or dismayed at this new threat, but I kept pushing hard.  We reached the infamous White Star lovestation, where my rival abruptly stopped for a drink (it may have been water, but the pre-race blurb had hinted at peach schnapps), and I was all alone.

I was feeling good and kept the pressure up.  At some point it dawned on me that I was retracing the outward route, which gave a sense of how far there was to go.  The White Star house style is always to make the distances 'ish', and they'd warned that this would be longer than the usual 21k, so it was good to be on familiar territory.

And then quite suddenly I rounded a bend and there was a downhill stomp to the finish line.  There were two soggy blokes in the tent holding beer bottles, and I learned that I was third in - fantastic!

23.88km in 1:49:45... not a fast race by any means, but this was a proper hoolie in properly wild countryside, and it felt like a luxury to be not overcome with heat stress at the end of a race.  Another smashing White Star event.

Snowdonia trail half marathon

I was standing in a crowd of lean, rugged, mountain-fit people, wondering quite what I was doing here, still technically recovering from injury (my left side was a little bit achy as we jogged from the car park) and with no recent hill training and absolutely no mountain racing experience.  The lovely Mrs S urged me not to fall off Snowdon and extricated herself from the start - she was doing the 10k.

In the start field

There was a short flat section through Llanberis, but quite quickly we began on a steady uphill climb; first on tarmac, then, a concrete track, and then an open path.  I got into a panting rhythm and felt OK, albeit apprehensive about the climb ahead. 

The course profile

I progressed up an impressive dry valley, over a coll and then down a short downhill section before I got a view of the mountains.  On the downhill section a couple of guys came tearing past me, but I caught them soon enough on the subsequent climb.

There was a very definite point when the gentle ascent became proper mountain.  It was time to walk.  I adjusted into the new cadence, hands pushing down on thighs, and started the climb. 

The first proper mountain climb is just ahead

It was a narrow, technical mountain path, only wide enough for single file.  Everyone was very good at letting overtakers past, and there were a few walkers out and about smiling at the nutters heaving their way uphill, including a few teenagers probably doing their D of E.

We were soon enough enveloped in cloud, and the warmth of the day was lost as we ascended.  I was really enjoying it, and felt a mixture of emotions as I saw a thickly-clad marshal directing runners sharp left downhill.  It would have been great to go to the summit proper, although there would be no view.

For a moment the landscape was lost in thick cloud as I took the turn, and it was a bit of a job to spot the next marshal directing me on to the path.  I started a gentle descent, my legs feeling the change of gait.  Soon enough I was on to a steep gravel slope, taking short rapid steps.  My feet slipped forwards, and I was nearly over on my back.  I was racing down a steep mountain and I was not enjoying it at all.

What made it worse was all the runners who went rushing past me, making it look easy.  They just bounded confidently downhill while I picked my way through all the hazards, feeling like I was only one step from certain doom.  The gravel gave way to uneven rock.  At least three times I caught my toe and lurched forwards with a yelp, only just regaining my balance.  There were sections of made path comprised of large smooth boulders, and I briefly caught my foot in one, threatening to twist my ankle into horrible positions.  I felt like a soft southerner chastened by proper mountains and scorned by all the proper tough men who rushed past me.

This went on and on, until we reached a steep road where I felt my toenails bashing into the front of my shoes.  The road evened out but I felt beaten up and drained.  I was back in Llanberis, with the final section ahead over the top of Dinorwic slate mine.

The view from the slate mine path

We set off back uphill, and I was OK again.  I started overtaking people, the steep zigzag slope feeling easy.  The lake dropped away and I happily pressed on along the path, the commentary of the finish line clearly audible.  I was dreading the final descent, but it was nothing like as technical as the Snowdon path and was over soon enough. Then it was a straight chase across the valley floor to the finish.  Mrs S was waving at me, having finished her 10k, and I had a good run to the line. 

The flat finish

So here's the data; my chip time was 2:22:33, by a long way my slowest ever half marathon!  My Garmin stats showed that my 9th km took me 14:28, with a hoofy 248m of ascent.  A similar descent in the 12th km took me 7:22.  It was a day of very new experiences.  For the main downhill section I had found it a never-ending nightmare, but once the race was over I felt exhilarated by the whole experience and chuffed to be 3rd M50.  I think we may be back again next year.

Scorcher part 3: Piggy Plod

After yesterday's Serpent Trail adventure, Mrs S and I were back on the road again this morning for more.  This time it was the Piggy Plod, a new race from the infamous White Star crew.  These guys really know how to do races which are irreverent and very laid back while at the same time highly efficient and well-organised.

With Richard and Jacquie at the start

We met Richard and Jacquie at the start field.  Warming up didn't really feel very appealing.  After a few cursory leg stretches and a brief briefing we set off.  I quite quickly found myself in front, for which I was a bit nervous.  It was all dusty, lumpy field margins with scarce shade and a regular rhythm of quite natty hills.  It was a 2-lap affair, and the first lap was 6k.  I was quite weary in the heat and steeled myself for a 12k race... the distance at these events is always 'ish'.  I was rejoicing when I found that the second lap was about a mile shorter than the first.  There were a lot of walkers completing their first lap, looking bothered.

I kept going, nervous of a challenge after a possibly over-egged start, but I was safe.  I was again first over the line and like yesterday needed a lie down in the shade for a few minutes before I was up to anything much.  Here are my stats. Mrs S was third lady, and we both got to choose our own t-shirts as prizes.  What a weekend!

Hot and victorious!

His

Hers

Scorcher part 2: Serpent Trail half marathon

The Lovely Mrs S and I set off for a day of madness - a half marathon what could be the hottest day of the year.  We collected Brenda from Romsey and buzzed up the road to the Petersfield rugby club.  This had an adventure race feel to it - the timing was based on dibbers, not chips.  There were 50k and 100k races happening the same day... I struggled to comprehend how anyone could do these on a day like today.  By 11am it was already really, really hot.

The half marathon crew

We were bustled on to a coach which had no legroom and no ventilation.  It was pretty awful, but had the consolation that the air felt quite cool when we got off, just outside Midhurst.

A quick briefing later and we were off, on to sandy heathland.  I quickly counted 10 runners ahead of me, and over the next 10 minutes overtook 4 or 5.  There was an extra little loop to make up the full distance which included what turned out to be the toughest hill of the race, which meant going up it twice - it was good to get this out of the way.

I had set off at a moderate pace, I was trying to keep to the shade when possible, I was sipping water continually... in other words I made every effort to be sensible in the full-on heat, but I could feel myself working harder and harder as the minutes went by.  At around half way I was told that I was 3-4 minutes behind the runner in front.  I kept at it, having to focus hard to spot the little purple signs that marked the way, and with around 5k to go overtook someone... but apart from this I was on my own for most of the race.

I was really wilting in the final sections, and the finish line was a joy to behold.  I crashed over the line, and it took me a while to understand that I was the first one home.  WHAT?? I couldn't believe it.  Several minutes later two guys finished saying they set off at the front of the field but got lost and done 15 miles at a jog - but I still don't know what happened to the others.

Here are the results, and here are my own stats.  I'm still in shock!  Mrs S did a blinder, and we waited to see Ian and Abi come home from the 50k event, while roars from the clubhouse told us that England were through to the World Cup semis.  What a day!

What the dibber machine said

Mrs S finished 26th

Still a bit dazed at what happened

Abi and Ian finishing 50k

The Romsey gang

Scorcher part I: Summer Plod

Last Sunday we headed off to Clanfield, part of QE Country Park, to do this 10-mile race.  Hot conditions and 10 miles of chalk hills - a good excuse to test my recovering muscle injury in a steady fashion over a longer distance.

We met up with Small Kate plus Abi and Hannah from RRR.  We were given a charmingly bonkers briefing and off we went.  It was a few hundred metres in before it dawned on me that we were going up a really rather long hill.  I tried to get into a steady rhythm and kept going.

It was a case of finding shade when you could.  At one point I went off-course and recognised the particular warning call of a fellow runner, which is a very kind impulse against a competitor.  Lovely countryside, hot conditions and some good long drags.  I felt OK, but was glad to recognise the top of the hill where we'd started and there was a nice mile glide down hill to the finish.

I think I was fourth, but it was a very low-key event for the local scouts and it really wasn't about position or podium.  Here are my stats.  Lovely to be back racing!

PS - and here are the results.