Robin Hood Half Marathon 2018

I always look forward to this one – it’s my home half marathon and was my first race at that distance back in 2016. It's also significant for Des and I as it's when things took a serious turn with us last year! However despite this, I was approaching it with mixed feelings this year. Although I’d done more miles-to-date than before the Robin Hood in the previous years, it was probably the least prepared I’d been for it and I knew I wasn’t going to come close to the two times I’d ran it in before.

So really, this year was going to be about enjoying the event rather than chasing a time and a week-or-so beforehand I agreed with a friend from running club that we’d tackle it together. On the foggy morning of 30^th September after the obligatory Southbank Bar Running Club team photo I headed into the starting pen and met up with Nik and a couple of other friendly faces. Eventually the ‘start-line shuffle’ all runners are familiar with turned into a run as we made our way through the spectator-lined Embankment and turned onto London Road with 13 miles ahead of us. 

We fell into a good pace together and the first mile melted away, bringing us to the familiar and somewhat dreaded hilly section of the route through the Park Estate – when Nik asked what my plan was for tackling the hills, I believe I said “get the f*uck up them”… and we did! Out of my three attempts at this race, it was the best I’ve ever done the hills, managing to run though nearly all of them, only slowing to a power-walk for the final couple. I was so glad to see the back of them though, and ready to enjoy the long-steady downhill of Derby Road for a bit of recovery. 

Before long we started to see the speedy people who were coming back in the other direction, a couple of miles ahead of where we were – some runners hate this but for some reason I really enjoy it! Knowing at least 30 people taking part meant lots of familiar faces passed so high fives, smiles and encouragement flicked between the two sides of the course. Then, just as we were turning into the loop section I spotted Des! A quick hug and kiss and we carried on... if I’d have been any quicker I wouldn’t have seen him so that was a definite bonus of slowing down!

I started struggling a bit on the next part – but not half as much as last year. With Nik’s words of encouragement I managed to run through the niggles which had forced me to walk at this point back in 2017. This particular part of the route is a long, lonely straight road which seems never ending as you wait to turn into the lovely and well-spectated Wollaton Park. It’s without a doubt my least favourite part of the course but with someone to chat to we managed to tick another mile off without too much drama. 

After the infamous Wollaton Hall climb and some deer spotting we’d reached the half way point and, turning onto the ring road, we were on our way home! I think one of my favourite things about road races is having the opportunity to run in places you’re never normally allowed – so this ring road section is a highlight for me. I love the calmness of a closed dual-carriageway, being pounded by enthusiastic runners rather than lined with queuing traffic.

Another couple of miles and a short burst of rain ticked off along with about a million “this is the last little hill” and we really were just a couple of miles from the finish. Accompanied by lots more conversation, putting the world to rights and talking about our various motivations for running and testing ourselves – we headed into the ‘final Parkrun’ fully determined… and I was hardly even moaning! 

It was around this time I put my music on as an extra bit of encouragement for the final stretch. I did really well and managed to keep my normal “I’ve nearly done this” cry at bay when the balance shifted a bit when Nik needed a bit more encouragement fro a little while as we weaved through the Meadows and finally that turn back onto the Embankment was in site. 

If you speak to anyone who has ran the Robin Hood, they’ll tell you the last section seems to go on a good while longer than you expect it to. You end up doing a weird collection of sprinting to get there quicker then realising it’s still bloody far until the finish line. With Nik holding my hand and all but dragging me there we eventually made it – with lots of clapping crowds still gathered to cheer us in!

Beaming at each other with a hug and “we did it!” we proudly collected our medals. Another one ticked of the list and very much a team effort! It’s the first time I’ve ever done a race from start to finish with someone and it truly did make it much more enjoyable. There are a few times Nik could have definitely left me behind, but “we started together and we’ll finish together”… and I’m so grateful that we did. 

To be completely honest, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that it was the slowest time I’ve completed that particular race in. During the post race celebrations, it was tricky to keep it in the back of my mind and focus on having done it as many revelled in PB times and great races. But now that some time has passed, I can’t even remember the exact time I did it in, but I can remember a lovely run with my friend through my favourite city in the world… and surely that’s more important? 

 

 

 

Me and my running buddy!

 

Action shot

Showing off our medals - it's a very significant race for us!

Proudly with my nephew and medal

Equinox - medals and mud

My first and only 10km race 2018! To be honest, with my performance in it ‘organised event’ is a better description that race. To give some background, Equinox is a 24 hour endurance event which takes place the beautiful yet extremely undulating grounds of Belvoir Castle. People can take part solo, in pairs or in teams with the aim of completing as many 10km laps as they can over the 24 hour period. 

I found myself there as Des decided he wanted to take on the 24 hour challenge solo as part of his “Super September” trio of events. Browsing the website a few weeks before the event I found there was the option of completing a lap at both 12noon and 8pm and gaining two medals for the trouble! “Brilliant” I thought, my medal haul for 2018 so far not matching the same point in previous years. I signed up to both events looking forward to taking on a challenge a little different to the standard road running I am used to. 

After a glorious and seemingly never ending summer, that weekend in September well and truly saw the start of autumn. As we made our way through fields and battled with gale force winds and torrential rain to set up camp, not for the first time on my running journey, I really bloody questioned my life choices! 

Following a freezing and somewhat uncomfortable sleep (I was desperate for a wee all night but refused to go trotting across a field in the dark) the morning came round and finally a gap in the rain. By the time the mass start came round at 12 noon I was again looking forward to the run and wished my friends luck and encouragement as we all set about our various challenges. 

The course really was beautiful with some spectacular views. However the thing about such spectacular views is the extremely high-up vantage point they require to enjoy them. Knowing before the race there was an infamous “that hill” section, I paced myself in the first couple of miles in anticipation. Flipping heck did I need the energy reserve! Apart from the first third, the rest of the race followed some killer elevation paths and took on bumpy and uneven fields. It was about half way around that I really remembered why I stick to straightforward road running – I’m extremely clumsy at the best of times so add in slippy paths, rabbit holes and a few tree routes and it’s a recipe for disaster. 

Despite really wondering why I ever thought it would be a good idea, I must say the morale out on the course was brilliant! There were a few people I chatted to quite a bit as we made our way around and it was fantastic running the last mile through the campsite which was full of fellow runners willing the people on course on. It’s definitely a special kind of atmosphere which I’d definitely recommend and runner takes the chance to experience. 

As the end slowly came into sight, so did the rain – just a few drops at first but with huge dark clouds looming and by the time I’d collected my medal and got back to our camp area it was well and truly hammering it down! Des came back from his second lap absolutely sodden and the dry paths which had been cracked with dehydration from the long summer had become complete mud trails. 

Later on, with darkness starting to fall, I was in genuine and utter turmoil about whether to go ahead with the 8pm leg which I’d signed up for. I had massively underestimated just how dark it would be (I don’t like the dark!) and I knew the lashings of rain would have made the course even more tricky than when I’d set about it earlier on that day. Right up until around 7.30 I was weighing up the pros and cons until I eventually decided it would be much more sensible to get myself wrapped up and stay with the people on our camping plot. I tried not to beat myself up too much – if I’m completely honest I would almost definitely have just walked around crying wishing I hadn’t done it!

So that was Equinox. Despite the cold and the rain it was a truly lovely weekend spend with friends with the medal being a bonus to take home with me. Des did fantastically and managed to complete five laps within the time – that’s with his legs only having had one week to recover from Berlin Marathon! 

As I said earlier, I would definitely recommend one of these events – it’s essentially like a bit of a festival for runners really. Lovely atmosphere and it’s great fun watching people completing their laps all through the day and night.

 

The view with "that hill" in the foreground

I was glad this was over!

Des still smiling after his 50 miler!

Dublin Rock and Roll Half - my first international running experience!

I’d been looking forward to this one for ages! Booked months ago as a surprise for Des’s Birthday (I was so relieved once he knew and I didn’t have to live in fear of it slipping out) I couldn’t wait to get to Dublin for my first bit of international running tourism! 

I knew that it was never going to be my fastest race – in fact I was fully prepared for it to be my slowest after that bloody injury and generally letting go of the reins, leading to this being the probably the least training I’d done for any race in the three years now that I’ve been running. But that didn’t matter, it was a weekend away and a chance to take part in a race series I’ve been eyeing up for a while.

For anyone who doesn’t know, the Rock And Roll series is a global running brand with races in all sorts of exciting places including the Las Vegas strip. They’re famed for their ‘live bands at every mile’ and the big celebration concert they throw at the end of the race. Being someone who’s been brought up to love music, it’s no wonder it appeared on the running bucket list.

As well as the excitement of the main event, arriving in Dublin at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning gave us the added bonus of fitting in some Parkrun tourism... well a Saturday morning just isn’t the same without it! A quick dash from the airport to Father Collins park where we were greeted by fellow runners from Nottingham and before we knew it, it was time for the off.

Without going into too much detail, I had a shocker the week before at a more local Parkrun, so the flat course and lower temperatures were extremely welcomed as I worked my way around one of ‘those’ runs where everything just feels right! As I made my way round the bends and finally up to the finishing funnel I was feeling confident and strong ready for the half marathon ahead of me the very next day.

The Saturday afternoon was spent soaking up some traditional Irish culture (of course I’m talking about a visit to the Guinness Storehouse!) then we were sensible and got a nice early night ready for the Sunday morning 6am alarm call when we made our way bleary eyed to the start line. And after a bit of a rush in the toilet queues and baggage drop off, all of a sudden the starting claxon was going and the thousands of pairs of feet began to pound the Dublin pavements settling in to their 13.1 miles journey around the city.

As per usual, the first couple of miles were fairly uneventful. I was feeling fairly jovial and pushing any thoughts of the lack of training to the back of my mind and taking in the sights and sounds of the event. Things started to get a bit more tough at around the 4 mile mark but I kept going, telling myself I could do it and reminding myself to take it steadily mile by mile.

Getting toward the five mile marker, the road was split and those of us still in the first third of our journey plodding along could now see those reaching their final few miles dashing down the other side. Some runners hate this but for some reason I’ve always enjoyed it – I don’t really know why but something about seeing those completely in the zone who’ll be finishing in perhaps half the time it will take me really motivates me!

And bloody hell did I need some motivation as the first of the hills I’d been anxiously anticipating started to come into view. Having looked at the elevation map earlier in the week, I knew there were going to be some killer hills but I’d nowhere near mentally prepared myself for what lay over the next five miles! Massive evalation followed by massive elevation up into some beautiful little villages, it genuinely seemed never ending. Accepting that there was no way I’d be running up these and living to tell the tale, I just had to crack on doing what I could. To be honest, somewhat surprisingly, I was still enjoying the race despite this as I chatted a bit to some of the other suffering runners around me. All of us cursing the hills, wondering quite why we thought it would be a good idea!

The miles extremely slowly ticked by, passing the half way mark where I could begin counting down instead of up (I always count up the miles to the first half then down to the end). The hills didn’t stop – there were some sharp downhills too which were almost more tricky to run that the declines, but definitely more fun! But I was making my way through the race eagerly looking forward to getting to the end.

By about mile 10 I was shattered, running when I could down a long sloping hill nervously checking the time every now and again to make sure I had plenty of time before they needed to open the roads. So I was bloody gutted when way ahead of time, I was asked to move onto the pavement because they needed to get the traffic moving, my head started going a bit and those all too familiar thoughts of being a ‘rubbish runner’ crept in. This all escalated when some of the bloody volunteers (I want to make it clear here, people who volunteer for races are generally magnificent and should be praised as such) who were obviously keen to get home started absent mindedly chucking rope off of cones and into the path of those of us still giving absolutely everything to get this race done. After nearly tripping twice and shouting at them the bloody be careful, that was it – the waterworks tap was on.

I cried for about the next half a mile – definitely not uncommon… but massively not helped by passing one of these “bands at every mile” who was packing up before those of us at the back of the pack had chance to enjoy it. Feeling thoroughly demotivated, if I hadn’t have been aware that I didn’t have too much left to go I couldn’t easily have thrown the towel in here.

But doing what I always do I kept on going and it did get a little better. I suppose I have the rope throwing volunteers to thank a bit because I kept running to make sure I was far enough ahead to not encounter them again! I soon started to hear some live music just in the distance and as I made my way around a bend a young lady was on stage still singing – back to crying but because I was happy this time “bless her she’s still playing for us” tears! 

Getting excitingly close to the end it was up another bloody hill – nothing compared to those earlier in the race but much more than necessary at 12.5 miles in – and past another band (yes I cried again!) and finally the end was in sight.

Excited and relieved in equal measure to see the finish line with Des’s big smiling face next to it waiting for me, I ran as fast as I could (probably the world’s slowest sprint finish) and at long last it was all over!

One of the perks of being one of the last to finish is that it takes no time to get through the finishing area (collecting the all-important medal and freebies) and retrieve my bag from baggage collection. Reunited with Des and both of us hobbling around in loads of pain we somehow managed to clamber to the floor to enjoy the last of the live music on stage. I have to say at this point that I was slightly (read very) gutted there was only non-alcoholic drinks on offer!

So that was it! Half marathon number five done and dusted. It was definitely a story of ups and downs and that counts for more than just the bloody hills! To be honest the atmosphere and other main selling points of the Rock and Roll series were a little disappointing. It was generally a great race which I did enjoy, but I was expecting much more from the bands on course and there were some other gaps in the organisation which tarnished the experience a little.

However, I must say I enjoyed my first taste of international running – and Temple Bar in the evening was an extremely welcome wind down to the weekend!

The all important medal!

Not the view you want more than 10 miles in!

#justdoingwhatwelove

This almost shows how evil it was!

June – the running streak that should have been.

This should be a post about running every day for a month. At one point it even looked like it might even have been a post about hitting my first ever 100 mile month.

Instead it’s a post about having a really good couple of weeks running which came to an abrupt end when the niggly ankle injury I had when marathon training returned with a vengeance.

I decided on the last day of May that I was going to do a running streak in June for a couple of reasons. Since the marathon, I’d been really hit and miss with training and really hadn’t got a real love for running back. It was all too easy to find reasons why I couldn’t fit runs in and generally my motivation was low. As a result, I my pace remained much lower than where I’d been before Christmas and before the long gruelling marathon runs had started to take their toll.

So with the two summer half-marathons I’m looking forward to in my head and wanting each of those to be a much better experience than the Stratford Half a few weeks ago, I decided a streak was just what I needed to get my head back in to it, and prove to myself that it is possible to fit a run in each day no matter how busy I am, how much I can’t be bothered and… how much I’ve drank the previous evening.

The first couple of days were fairly decent, a highlight was taking part in a spot of Parkrun tourism in Leeds with my lovely Southbank Running Club however that meant the run the following day was particularly tricky following a 14 hour drinking session!

By a week in I was feeling good! The runs were enjoyable and the love of running was really starting to come back. By the end of week two I felt fantastic! I was starting to really see my paces fall which I hadn’t expected while still doing the streak, I’d presumed it would be a bit of a ‘gets worse before it gets better’ experience.

I kept thinking back to that first running streak I’d done 18 months before – advent running! I remember finding that really tough and I kept wondering when that toughness would kick in this time. But as I crossed the days off the calendar I was only loving it more this time around! I thought about this a lot and I think it just boils down to how vastly different my conditions were approaching it this time around:

·         It’s summer. I like the summer! I do not like cold dark nights and mornings and having to wear a millions layers in an effort to keep warm

·         No treadmills this time – I don’t need to expand on this

·         Back in December 2016 every run was a solo run, this time it was quite the opposite!!

So really, the combination of running in lots of different places with lots of different people consistently in the sunshine makes for a much better running streak experience. So much so that half way though the month I realised that I was almost at 50 miles and maybe I’d even be able to get to 100 for the month. I knew it wouldn’t be an easy task but I also knew that I was capable and whoever took up running without being keen for a challenge anyway!! So that was that, I was going to do my absolute best to get to 100 miles by the end of June.

I was so motivated and keen to hit my target that on Monday 19^th June I decided to postpone my normal lunchtime run around Colwick Park in favour of going in the evening so I’d have time to get more of those all-important miles in. I had noticed that my foot had been aching a little bit it felt like the kind of ache that would easily run off if I took it steady. How wrong I was!

Heading down the familiar paths of Colwick Park, looking out over the lake shimmering in the sunshine and trying everything to take my mind off it but it wasn’t working and it was quickly becoming a case of run a few meters walk a bit until I got to just over a mile in and realised it a futile. It was time to turn off the Garmin (just realised I’ve not even mentioned my lovely new Vivoactive!) and hobble back to the car.

I was definitely crying a bit as I hobbled my way back, phone in hand whatsapping the running club group to share my woes. I’m not sure whether I was crying more out of frustration and worry that my streak was over or more because it really bloody hurt.

Hoping that an evening of the whole RICE thing would sort it I tried to stay positive as I settled on the sofa to enjoy the first England match of the World Cup campaign.

Skip forward a few weeks and I fully expected that hopes of England winning the World Cup would be long gone along with any worries of a dodgy ankle. However despite my delight at the unfortunately we’re well into July now and the ankle still isn’t right. It’s not as bad as it was an I did manage my first run in two and a half weeks but I’m still limping.

It will get better – a trip to the doctors after a week in pain confirmed that it was just a bit of tissue damage. But it’s a matter of being patient and building back up slowly – not something runners are known for being good at!

My next big race is 6 weeks away now, the Dublin Rock & Roll Half Marathon. I’m really looking forward to it but definitely won’t be worrying about speeding my way around. It should be a fantastic atmosphere and I’m really looking forward to the weekend away with Des so I’ll just go along and enjoy it.

 

 

Stratford Half Marathon 2018

I always like to get my thoughts onto paper as quickly after a race as I can while it's still fresh. But a combination of a busy few weeks and not having particularly fond thoughts about this race, here I am four weeks later finally sitting down to talk about the Stratford Half Marathon.

13 or 14 of us from my running club signed up for the Shakespeare half, a couple of us keen to use it as a marker after our spring marathons, others just always up for a new race and the all important medal which goes with it.

It had all the potential to be an excellent run. A lovely, scenic yet challenging course, decent crowd support and half the distance I'd dragged myself through a couple of weeks earlier. But some days, it's just not your day.

It started well, the sun was shining and the buzz of having Des and loads of our friends there meant the early start and long drive were all but forgotten by the time we reached the start line and took some obligatory pre-race selfies. As the starting horn sounded accompanied by the clapping of spectators who were lining the streets, I felt good as I got moving, excited even.

The first couple of miles were alright, the course fairly flat and nicely scenic with the spring sun not yet too exhausting. I felt fairly strong as I hit the 5km mark and into the second quarter of the race. I was trotting along the countryside roads of Stratford quite happily enjoying it about as much as one can enjoy a half marathon.

Then around mile five or six, things started to turn a bit. Despite feeling quite good, I got a bit too hung up on the numbers on my watch and realised I wasn't really running very quick at all. At this point, I completely fell out with the race. I don't really know why but I just went into a complete strop with it. I couldn't get my head around how, when I felt like I was trying really hard and running really well, I was still so bloody slow.

On reflection, it was probably a combination of the heat, the undulating course and the fact I'd barely done any miles since the big day a few weeks earlier. Thinking like that would have been far too rational and sensible though, so instead I just carried on in a huge huff.

Despite being able to look back on it now with a bit of humour, I was the closest I've ever come to giving up that day. I really let it get into my head that I was a 'rubbish runner' and I really struggled with the thought of how much longer it was going to take me to get across that finishing line. Half crying, half-running half shuffling down those county lanes which had seemed so lovely just a little time ago, I decided I had to keep on going because either way I'd need to get back to the finish line and if I gave up I knew I'd be fuming with myself by that evening.

So I carried on. Plodding along determined to get to the end, thoughts of running a time to be proud of out of my head and just focusing on keeping going. I made little patterns for myself run for a bit then walk for a bit... just get to that tree then you can walk etc until I got to about mile 11 when I'd settled quite nicely into a run half a mile walk quarter of a mile pattern. Not ideal but at least finally the distance was starting to melt away.

I feel like I have to mention at this point the fantastic runners who started to come past me. Along with the half marathon, there was a full marathon option and just after I reached the 11 mile marker the first runner ran by me. Followed minutes after by the second and third etch, all people who'd ran twice as far as me, twice as fast. Despite my own struggled I couldn't help but shout words of encouragement, bloody brilliant effort.

Back to my own run, I was nearing the end now and flipping heck was I glad! Carrying on with the little pattern I'd formed through miles 11, 12 and into the final one down a tiny narrow path and back into the park I'd left behind all those hours earlier. I could hear the crowds starting to build as I made my way through the final twists and turns and finally the finish line and familiar smiling faces were back in sight.

Feeling more relieved that it was over than anything else as the town's mayor put my medal round my neck I was so glad to be done! Des was waiting for me right next to the line and as it happened a toe accident a few miles in meant he's had a pretty bad run too. It was hard as we reconvened with the rest of the running club to find some pride in what I'd done rather than annoyance at how badly it had gone.

But it was done, half marathon number 4 in by far my slowest time of 2:53:58.

On a positive note, I would definitely recommend that Stratford Half Marathon! It was extremely well organised, a good level of support along the picturesque route with plenty water stations along with way. I definitely can't say that I won't be back to give it another go...