’Ey-up.
’Ow dos? Had a good Christmas and all that?
Right
– so…
…back
in August, I made a start on a new blog post. A decent start, in terms of
length: 1,686 words. If only I’d actually got round to finishing it. But, you
know what…
…the
first seven months of my running year didn’t need 1,686 words. You certainly
don’t. So, let’s start again, and see if I can keep an overview of my 2018 short
– if only by my standards…
 |
| The are upsides to not being able to race. Devouring a mammoth ice cream on raceday eve in Barcelona being one such example. |
Had
been in PB shape all winter. Left leg began hurting with two weeks to go. Still
travelled and had a great time with Mike, Sarah, Frankie, Tina and other
Caistor R.C. folk, as well as Lorna, Ben and his wife, but decided beforehand to
not be an idiot and pull out after 10k. Which I did. At least I got to see Mike
cross the line for his 50th race of marathon distance or longer, and
to do so within a whisker of his PB… an awesome weekend, just not for the
reasons I’d hoped.
Four
weeks later came Manchester Marathon. Another disappointment: by then I’d long
lost the peak marathon form I’d hit too early, around December, but I still had
a good shot at a PB. Nothing can excuse the rookie error which led to my hopes being
dashed by my bowels. And I’m not going further. Other than to congratulate
Portishead R.C.’s Mark Williams, with whom I used to run before he took things
to another level, for joining the sub-3 club in 2:57’22”.
 |
| Fling - A relatively rare tutu'd up outing. |
Flew
up with Jane from Portishead R.C. hoping for sub-10hr on my third Fling, and
first since my Triple Crown year of 2015. I didn’t get the time I wanted: but,
after an evening with Mike, Sarah, Rob, Kath and other friends of theirs, I had
a time I could only have dreamt of. Ran the first forty miles without checking
my Garmin once, ultimately reaching Tyndrum in 10:17’32” to set a 49’ PB.
Sub-10 can wait. We had an absolute blast.
Back
to the scene of Mike’s 2017 Stag Do – and with similar intent, i.e. to have
fun.
I
rocked and rolled with fellow runnerblades, not least on the Saturday night (once
we’d got over the communal disappointment of a so-called Italian restaurant –“Jamie’s
Italian”- not serving pizza… This hit Phil’s
brother Jay particularly badly: and understandably so, given he’d only landed
earlier that day from New Zealand, the following day’s Half Marathon set to be
his longest run ever… which he duly completed in under 1:40’, as you do…
…on
the Sunday, having hoped to pace Alan
to a PB, he dispensed of my services after ten miles. I was able to catch up
with his brother Andy and
keep him going to the end and to a PB of his own, so still a productive day at
the office. Just not an office to which I’ll be returning next year: something
has to give and I’m happy for it to be Liverpool. If only because of the
logistics.
 |
| Marathon Team #runnerblades about to rock Liverpool: Mick, Al, Luke, Some Idiot (in another rare tutu'd up outing) and Andrew |
Returned
to Winchester feeling sub-20 was possible and sub-21 on the cards, as much as
anything is ever on the cards in an Ultra. I reached Eastbourne bitterly
disappointed, recording a time of 24:28’13”. I suffered a couple of setbacks
early on which I really should have dealt with, but the biggest obstacle came
in the shape of one of my three anti-epilepsy drugs, namely the Phenobarbital
which I’m told to take “last thing before going to bed”. Given I’d not be going
to bed that night, I was hoping that a 20-hr race would allow me to take it around
2am: however, once that target time had long sailed towards the Solent, I
decided to take it mid-race. It wasn’t long after that I found myself unable to
run straight, my feet landing uneasily in random places. Andy Dunn, whom I’d
never previously met and whose full name I only discovered via Facebook
post-race, pulled alongside me to point this out. I was genuinely aware of the
problem, just as I was unable to do anything about it. We ran together for a
while (for which I’m even more grateful with hindsight than I was back then)
until I finally convinced him to leave me at the Alfriston CP and go and grab
his maiden sub-24, which he duly did. I carried on and finished, which I later
discovered surprised some of the awesome marshals who’d expressed their concern
about me and who didn’t expect me to finish. The drug’s effect slowly but
surely wore off as I slowly but surely approached Eastbourne, my long death
march giving me thinking time aplenty, during which I decided I’d let the
SDW100 ghost lie and look at other events. So, sure enough, a fortnight later I
made the Centurion
Running 100-milers Grand Slam (Thames Path 100, South Downs Way 100, North
Downs Way 100 and Autumn 100) my key 2019 target. But that was June…
Ran
from the North side of The Humber Bridge to the South side.
In
Barton, ran around a cone and headed back to Hessle.
In
Hessle, ran around another cone, announced myself to the marshalling team and headed
back to Barton.
Repeated
thirty-three times. With three toilet stops and refilling soft flasks on
average once every two loops. Clocked 132 miles to win by 28 miles. Won a bobble
hat and a free entry into next year’s race. Which I wasn’t going to do, having
set my sights on the Centurion Grand Slam. But it would be rude to turn down a
freebie, right? Especially from a fellow Yorkshireman… Plus I’ll still get to
see the fab Centurion community at the first two events, whereas I’d be missing
my fellow HOTHers… because, as well as a hoodie, a t-shirt, a polo shirt, a medal, a bobble hat and a framed card I also came home with new friends…
And
no, I didn’t sleep. Byron, who kindly gave me a lift from Tewkesbury and back, also very kindly granted me use of part of his tent: but I never did make use of the sleeping bag Mike lent me. I ran on a combination of Tailwind, water, Clif Bars and ShotBloks and SIS Gels,
with TrueStart coffee and Nescafe during
short breaks. Indeed, the coffee may have ensured that the Phenobarbitone didn't knock me out SDW100-style…
…oh, and a pizza around 1am on the second night. Which I probably should not have eaten in one, quick go.
…oh, and a pizza around 1am on the second night. Which I probably should not have eaten in one, quick go.
One bridge. Three Totley AC tops. One leap - with Fran!
Saturday
(after Ashton Court parkrun):
5k and Half Marathon. Sunday: 10k and 6.1k (to round up the
total to full marathon distance for those who’d run the other three events).
It
was never about racing. It was about having Mike and Sarah spend a weekend with
us, and, to some extent, about exorcising the demons of 2017, when I only
entered the Half Marathon and set off to win my age category. A stupid mindset
which resulted in an epileptic seizure three miles in. It was good to complete
all four events upright and with my bro, as we managed to clock the exact same
aggregate time, and to only find myself lying on the floor for the open-air
showing of “The Greatest Showman” with Karen and The Boys alongside us, perfectly
conscious if somewhat high on endorphins and the joy of running. A cracking
weekend! If somewhat dreich on the Sunday morning…
With Mike and Sarah on the first day of the 401 Festival Of Running - a day that ended with a glorious
sunset over the Severn ahead of an open-air showing of "The Greatest Showman". Which, it turns out, isn't about Mike...
...oh, and just by that lighthouse? That's where I proposed to my wife, that is...
sunset over the Severn ahead of an open-air showing of "The Greatest Showman". Which, it turns out, isn't about Mike...
...oh, and just by that lighthouse? That's where I proposed to my wife, that is...
...12/02/05. Still running. Not in the sense of this blog, though.
(Oh: and the tutu made another rare outing that weekend. Well, five: one parkrun and 4 x 401 races. Guess it's come out to play more than I thought this year...)
(Oh: and the tutu made another rare outing that weekend. Well, five: one parkrun and 4 x 401 races. Guess it's come out to play more than I thought this year...)
Approached
the race with far less maratraining in the legs. ‘Miles’, yes: and numerous
ones, even by my standards. But slow ones, in preparation for HOTH.
So
I came up to Chester with no great expectations or pressure. Equally, having
recorded sub-3 marathons in 2016 and 2017, I was keen to rectify the Spring’s
failings of Barcelona and Manchester and extend #annualsub3streak to three –
and had managed some training geared towards that.
Maybe
the company of better runners than I rubbed off, as I travelled up to Chester
with John C. and Kelly, the former fresh (relatively…) from conquering The
Cotswold Way 100 and on this weekend on supporting duties for his girlfriend
as she set out to join the sub-3 club – to which John belongs courtesy of a
2:58’05”, and which Kelly will join soon enough after her
3:00’50” this time round. I stayed in the Wrexham
North Premier Inn, as is now tradition, dining with Mike and fellow
Castorians on race eve. We were joined by John Rooney, a fellow exiled Northerner
fresh from watching his beloved Tranmere
Rovers win 4-3 at Morecambe) and who shared both a room with me and a few handy
tips. Although I’ve yet to get round to trying the beetroot juice…
My
race plan was simple: start behind the sub-3 pacers, overtake them relatively
early on and finish ahead of them. Only checking my watch for mile splits, I
ran by feel, and by latching onto other runners. The latter’s always dangerous,
as you’ve no idea what their goal is: but, if kept in check with a glance every
6’52” or thereabouts…
Result:
2:58’05”. Sub-3 and, indeed, PB, by 54 seconds. And an opportunity for a laugh
with John C. on the drive back South… He was probably thinking he should be
going sub-2:50’. As he should. Having said he wouldn’t target a marathon in
2019, he appears to be wavering… hopefully, when he realises his potential over
26.2, I can claim some teeny weeny credit.
"Flying in Chester". Well, happy, anyway - knowing sub-3 was truly on...
...but had no idea I'd PB! Least of all by 54"!
. .
.
So:
that’s my 2018. In what, by my standards, is a nutshell. Just the one
‘traditional’ PB, but it was the one that matters, over 26.2. A sub-18’
parkrun, to lay the ghost of my 18’01” PB to rest, proved elusive, not least
because, disappointingly, I’ve only managed 13
parkruns
this year, not least because of the amount of Saturdays that featured
ultra-training long runs. But I have managed to keep my runstreak alive, even though for a week or so some advised against it: come December 31, obviously barring disasters over the coming three days, it will stand at 2,272 days, with 4,213 miles added in the first 362 days of the year. Now, as for 2019, here’s what it’s set to feature:
February 17: Maratón de Sevilla
My ‘A’ race for the year.
Having got my three sub-3s in France, the Netherlands and the UK, it would be
nice to add Spain to the list, not least after March’s fiasco. Quite possibly
my last shot at sub-2:55’. Because if I get it I’ll be satisfied and if I don’t
I might well give up on the idea. Unless…
April 7th: Greater Manchester Marathon
…well,
if I narrowly miss out in mid-Feb – I might give it one last go in April…
whereas, if Sevilla doesn’t turn out to be a repeat of Barcelona, by early
Spring I could well have switched to Ultratraining mode, and potentially even
not travel to Manchester). But I’ll definitely be traveling to…
April 14th:
Sheffield
Half Marathon
…my hometown the
following week. I last ran the Half Marathon there in 2013, the last
time it ended at Don Valley Stadium. Following its annulment in 2014 due to Watergate,
this is effectively a different event, with different organisers and a
different route. Last time I PB’d; this time my goal is to run it with my
cousin Sam and to enjoy it! Because I’ve retired from racing Half Marathons. I
got a PB I’m happy with at Bristol 2017 (1:24’18”): but that took weeks of
dedicated HM training, whereas now I seem to find myself alternating between
maratraining and ultratraining. If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing
properly: and I’m getting too old to trouble my 13.1 time…
I signed up when eyeing
up the Centurion Grand Slam. Not unhappy I did: I quite fancy running along a
canal for a hundred miles. After years of reading debates as to which 100-miler
is faster, this or South Downs Way, it’ll be nice to test out the differing
theories first hand. Before…
June 8th: South
Downs Way 100
…returning to Winchester
for the third time. Hopefully this time round the stars will align and I’ll
break 21 hours, maybe even 20. The prevailing, counterintuitive theory, backed
up by a fair few spreadsheets, is that most runners fare better along the South
Down’s trails than on the cement of the Thames Path, and this will be my third
crack at this route… Still, not going to stress over it. Just as I’m certainly
not going to stress over…
Aug 16th-18th: Hell
On The Humber (36hr)
I always said August was
going to be a one-off. That I was running the 36-hr event in 2018 because my
two late maternal grandparents were born in 1918, one on either side of the
bridge, and 18+18 equals… At the start of the race, with things going alreyt, I
felt no great desire to return. But, as the race went on, and faces I crossed
along the bridge became more familiar, and the hi-fives more frequent, I felt
it might be fun to head back up after all. Then I won a free entry into the
2019 event, so… well, let’s just say the Centurion Grand Slam will have to
wait.
And no, this isn’t about
me “defending my crown”, as some have asked. I know plenty of runners who could
smash my 132-mi record*, should they wish. But I only race against myself.
Which is one reason I kept going till the 36 hours were up: had I been
preoccupied with positions, I’d not have put myself through the final lap,
enjoyable as it turned out to be… So I’d be happier clocking 34 laps next
August without bringing home a framed postcard than I would be clocking 32 to
win another bobble hat. And that’s not just because I don’t feel the cold as
much as most.
* there’s something to be said about running
inaugural events – especially those which display course records on race gear!
So if nowt else I have to go back for a hoodie with my name on it…)
Aug 24th & 25th: The 401 Festival of
Running (?)
Probably won’t sign up
when entries open. Will see who else fancies it, in particular if we can make a
weekend of it by hosting friends from afar and if I can run with them along
paths I’ve covered hundreds of times, typically alone. I won’t be in any fit
state to race that weekend anyway, post-HOTH; and besides, I’ve retired from
racing sub-26.2 distances, bar trying to shave two seconds off my 18’01” 5k PB…
that remains a goal, albeit one fast fading into the distance… faster than I
can run after it…
…but we had a lot of fun
four months ago, and it would be a shame to miss out on that. If nowt else,
I’ll go down to meet at least some of the wonderful runners that flock to Ben’s
annual running party (before he disappears to the US
on a bike, anyway…) – hopefully without getting drenched as did supporters
and marshals on the Sunday this year!
My
season-closer. A race that this year was meant to be fun but somehow turned
into a PB race. Hopefully I’ll reap the rewards of my maratraining in the
Spring and be able to return to Chester Racecourse for the fun of it, looking
to twirl and or/pace. Fingers crossed.
One item missing from that calendar is The West
Highland Way Race. Still my favourite race, having run it in 2015 (I even
wrote a book about that, dontchaknow…). I may throw my hat into the
ring again at some point in the 2020s, who knows. For now, at least I can look
forward to heading back to it in 2019, crewing for Mike. Not before time… it’s
taken a while for the random number generator to let him in, but it finally
has…
. .
.
There
you have it: my 2018 races and my 2019 plans. Turns out I wrote more than 1,686
words (this being the 2,684th), but at least I covered the whole of
my 2018 (which also featured hundreds of lovely training runs, not least when I got to run my Standard 10-miler for my hundredth time with my cousin Natalie) and offered you a glimpse into my 2019. How’s yours looking?
Oh,
and just two more things…
Firstly,
for the avoidance of doubt: as an every day runner who’ll run owt from 5k to 36
hours, I establish no relationship between distance and toughness. A sub-18’ 5k
would represent a greater achievement for me than covering 132 miles in 36
hours, because of the kind of runner I am. But, given that the pre- and
post-race faffing is also not proportionate to distance, and that short, fast
races have proved to enjoy an unhealthy relationship with my deranged (and
epileptic) brain… I’ll stick to middle-distance (marathon) and above from now
on, not least because there aren’t enough weeks in a year to target a good pace
over short distances whilst maratraining or ultratraining. So I’ll stick to
what I enjoy the most, and where I’ve been achieving the best results. But it’s
primarily about the enjoyment: not just come race day, but during the training window,
too. I mean – who doesn’t enjoy running over a motorway bridge all alone in the
dark of night?
😉
And,
last but definitely not least:
THANKS
TO ALL OF YOU WHO’VE MADE RUNNING SO MUCH FUN THIS YEAR. It’s always hard to
single people out, but how can I fail to overlook the trouble to which some of
you went to pay me a visit by The Humber Bridge?
Thanks
to the 22 Caistor R.C.
runners who got their parkrun fix at Humber
Bridge parkrun (ten of them making their first visit there) before running along
the bridge (and, in Fran’s case, leaping!) with me; to Steven and Lucy Taylor, who also parkran
at Humber Bridge before chatting with me as I refuelled on Tailwind; and, of course, to
Caistorians Mike and Sarah Wells
for making multiple trips to Hessle, Mike running with me a few times, before
heading down to Portishead the following weekend. Oh, and thanks to Auntie Dawn,
Uncle Richard and Shaun for spending a few hours on the bridge at the start of
the race, cheering me on! Dawn’s reaction when I told her I’d be returning in
2019 was “Why are you going back?”, quizzing me about whether I was thinking
about “everyone who was worried about” me. But then six
years ago she questioned why I’d want to run the Sheffield TenTenTen, my first ever race
– so…
(Briefly: if I thought I
were endangering myself, I wouldn’t do it. Not HOTH, not anything. I’m brave,
but I’m not stupid. Honest.)
Have
a good’un. On roads, trails and when not laced up: because it’s not just about the running. It never is. Oh, and me, I’m off to look up beetroot juice options. ¡Hasta febrero!
