Bath Half, 2019

I've done this race a few times in the past, but I'm struggling to remember when, and with what result. I know I ran it in 2006, a few weeks before the London marathon, and I think I did about 1:23 (for some reason I don't appear in the results, although my sister Lizzy does). I think I ran it once or twice in the 1990s, but really my record-keeping from that era is hopeless.  Suffice to say that this was my first road half marathon for a while, and the flattest one for quite a while, so I was intrigued to see what I could do.

The lovely Mrs S and I set off early and parked in Bath with my cousins Rob and Sally in good time.  Rob kindly drove us towards the centre, and we jumped out and joined the great river of people heading to the runners' village.  The 15,000 runners swamped the place.  I was on tenterhooks as I was desperate to swap my number, which said Pen H, for something more respectable. Like an eejit I had omitted to provide a time estimate, so by default I was put for the back of the pack, and I was aghast at the prospect of juggling around the slower runners for much, if not all, of the route,

But once we'd found the right queue, the super-efficient staff gave me a new number marked Pen E, a distinct improvement. It was a chilly morning; about 6 degrees, with a fresh west wind, but with spells of sunshine. Mrs S and I put on unwanted t-shirts and bin bags, dropped the bag off, and after some chilly waiting the crowd was ushered towards the start line.

Bath chic

I moved to the front of Pen E, and after a minute or two ducked under a piece of tape to Pen D, which was where I wanted to be (A, B and C were tiny elite pens, right on the start line). I was thrilled and relieved.  There were plenty of club runners here, running circuits or standing in the sunshine.  I met Peat and we jogged around together.  We were called to the start, and off we went.

It took me 15 seconds to get to the start line and from there the pace was good, although inevitably a bit tricky going in a dense pack.  After a couple of km I had found my rhythm and was thoroughly enjoying the support and the music.  The course was essentially two out-and-back loops heading out west on the north side of the Avon, and returning on the south side. This meant two sets of running into the wind followed by a tailwind home - nice!  On the first turn, I was struck by the sudden calm as the wind followed us.  I was doing a respectable pace (3:45/km or so) and felt good.


Back into the centre with all the crowds, and back out into the wind.  I was feeling fine as I kept the pressure up and felt myself move gradually up the field. It was great to see Rob, Sally and the girls waving their support. Into the final leg, and by now the road was crammed with first-lappers on the left side. Push, push... I tried to figure out what time I was going to do, and reckoned it could turn out interesting.

Caught by Rob on the second lap

The final mile is uphill and veers back into the wind.  By now I was panting, closing down the distance.  I pegged it into Great Pulteney Street and crossed the line in 1:20:33.  Oh My Goodness.  I was amazed - way better than I had expected or hoped for. Back in the day (1996) I ran the Cricklade half in 1:18:45, and I think this might just be my best half marathon result in 23 years.  And there at the finish line was my mate Craig from Corsham Runners, with whom I'd battled at the 2017 Avebury 8/9. Craig was thrilled with his own PB of 1:19.

Mrs S came storming home in 1:53 PB, despite having to battle with runner traffic for most of the way. And Rob and Sally's youngest, Marcus, ran his first ever half in 2:01 with a negative split. What a tremendous outing all round. Here are my stats.

The wonderful sign that Emily and Rosy made for us

Check out this image from Strava Flyby. I'm the black line in the middle, and Craig is the blue line on top.  What interests me is how most of my rivals faded after about 7 miles - as a 10k, this would have been a very different race.

The Grizzly, 2019

There had been plenty of rain throughout the week, and the wind was blowing hard as we drove down to East Devon. This was my first Grizzly since 2016, and what's more, the lovely Mrs S was running the Cub.  It was bright and gusty as we arrived in Seaton, and did the traditional cafe rendezvous with friends.  All the shop windows were decked out in home-made Grizzly themed decor, which gave a lovely sense of local pride.

Arrival at race HQ

All the shops are like this

The pre-race gathering

We stripped down, warmed up the legs and trotted down to the beach, where the whole world seemed to be converging.  One of the features of the Grizzly is that you're directed to the start area from the front of the line and it's a narrow space bounded by walls, which meant that after I'd found a reasonable spot, the human river mixed up the order and I was way back from the line.  I should know better by now.

Just before approaching the madness of the start ine

The race director did his usual dry-humour briefing. The course was to be reduced by 1km to reduce the risk of getting blown off the cliff... but never mind as the bogs are really special this year.  Then the town crier came and did his bit with great gusto and panache, finishing by telling us that this was his last Grizzly, which is really is the end of an era.

And then we were off, first of all to a very shuffly trudge on the road, and then on to the shingle, where I moved past many of the slower late runners. There was a strong tailwind. Off the beach, through the marina and back on the road, and boof - right into the wind.

Out of Seaton, through Beer (loads of spectator noise) and up the hill heading west to Branscombe.  The wind was really blasting at the top of the hill. I felt a bit of a pussycat as I ran down the rocky path to Branscombe beach as quickly as I dared, while hard fell-running types breezed past. Then a tough little patch on the shingle into the wind, through the stream and past the drummers.

The middle half of the Grizzly feels quite different to the Branscombe-and-back Cub section, not least because it's different every year. I soon lost sight of the sea and became enveloped in the other-worldliness of the hills and tracks that surround Branscombe.  The constant ebb and flow of hills, the adjustment from roads to squelchy fields and forest tracks becomes a bit of a blur. The skies were clear and it was glorious to be back.

Into the second half, and I was catching a few runners. From the changing wind and light we were clearly starting to head back towards the coast, but not before the bogs.  This was where the real adventure began.

Heading downhill, past the familiar 'Follow me follow' sign, I passed an Axe Valley Runner and was then running up a stream.  Ahead of me was a horizontal log, about a foot above the water. I grabbed the branches growing on each side and hoisted myself up and over, but in doing so managed to bash the AVR guy behind me (Rob Collier, as it turned out) on the head with one of the branches. I was mortified. I staggered up the stream, stumbling inadvertently into deep pools and almost falling in completely.  From the water to the mud... the bog really was extra deep and gloopy this year, and much as I adore this section, I was feeling a bit frazzled as I emerged from it. The bump on the head seemed to have done Rob the power of good and he ploughed on ahead of me.

The hill after the bog was quite something; a sodden steep hill, complete with climbing rope.  I was heaving by this point. To add to the surreal scene, there was the Queen, perfectly dressed in a nice little blue number and a handbag, and a little further up the hill was Elizabeth I, declaiming something about our blessed isle. I took heart from the sovereigns and kept going, half of me wondering if I was in a dream and the other half thinking 'this is why I love the Grizzly'.

From here on I was feeling heavy and weary.  As ever, the gauntlet run through the throng at the Fountainhead was raucous and thrilling, and then it was the familiar run up on to the ridge looking down over Branscombe village, the mad run down the grassy hill and back on to the beach.

There was no sneaking on to foreshore sand today - the tide was too high, and it was a long slow trudge out to the undercliff.  A rel if to be off the shingle, but the undercliff is really technical, with rocks, steps, roots and overhanging branches everywhere.  Up the Stairway to Heaven, there were serious-looking folk in mountain climbing kit and hard hats ready to assist falling runners.

Looking back towards the undercliff

At the clifftop, there was a rapid stretch with the wind in pursuit before a heading back down into Beer and up the other side. I was ready for a really tough climb here and it really was. There was a final stinger of a climb through a wood just when you think it's all over, and then a cracking push into Seaton, through a park and downhill to the finish.

The inevitable awful finish expression

I was really done for at the finish and had to hang onto a table for a couple of minutes.  I finished in 2:39:57 (chip time) in 31st place - I'd said beforehand I was hoping for top 30 but I'll gladly take that, particularly on less long-run training than usual this year.  Here are my stats.  Mrs S had had a terrific Cub too. An exhilarating, wonderful day out.

Goring 10k, 2019

It was a damp and blustery day. We set off with a full change of dry kit expecting to get thoroughly wet and cold. We trudged from the Goring station car park to the race HQ at the primary school, which was getting a bit overwhelmed with a thousand or so runners, and we were asked not to flush the loos (I'm glad I didn't have to sort that one out).

At race HQ before the start

The lovely Mrs S and I stripped down to race gear, did a few warm-up and activation excercises and headed off to the start line.  There was a friendly bunch around me and we had a good chat while we waited for the off.  Watch out for the headwinds on the return leg, I was warned.

The first km was a steady 40m climb, which thinned the field out nicely.  By the top I was able to count the runners ahead and reckoned I was in 15th position. Then a good downhill section before heading south and onto a slight climb on a section of field into the wind - wow it was tough.

I had caught a few runners as we got into a flat section along the Thames before heading east and into open countryside.  There was a stiff sidewind, and I appreciated what the guys at the start were telling me - the last section was all south west, right into the wind, with a decent hill to boot.  At 7k there was a right turn, and boof, the wind was quite something.

It was a steady grind for a few minutse, back to the top of the original hill. At the top of the descent I overtook a youngster and pelted downhill, terrified that I had broken cover too soon.  He really kept up the pressure behind me.  The finish was 700m further on from the start and I had to work really hard to keep ahead.

But I did, just, and finished in 38:56... always good to finish in xx:5x!  I was pleased to get 6th overall and the M50 position, and even more pleased to be the champion Super Veteran, which I think is a cracking title.

Mrs S came tearing in to the finish soon after alongside some very tidy-looking competitors.  The hills really are your friends with the right attitude!  A lovely course, made more interesting by the conditions.  Super stuff!

Here are my stats and here's a flyby sequence showing just how the race became on that last hill - I had no idea they were being such a threat.

Super Veteran... I could get used to this...