2014 Kenilworth Half Marathon: Sub-1:30 at Last!

I've heard about races where runners go in with a plan, do it, and come away happy.  I've seen proper athletes interviewed on TV talking about how they executed their plan (always seems to be sprinters, but there you go).  Me, I do the normal endurance runner thing of go into a race with a plan, watch it fall to pieces, drop back to plan B, etc.  Races longer than a mile seem, for me, to be all about revising the plan to manage some unexpected difficulty.  That's part of the fun of running long, isn't it?  For this year's Kenilworth 1/2, I had a plan, painstakingly worked out over several weeks, with margin built in to make sure I finally broke the 1:30 barrier that I've been intermittently attacking for the past 6 years.  As you can tell from the title, I got there.  Finally.

The plan was pretty simple:  aim for a 6:45 pace from the start.  The route, though, is pretty lumpy, so it's definitely much easier said than done.

There are two ways of taking on a lumpy course.  Option 1: keep the pace steady, so you're pushing hard up the hills and easing off on the way down.  Option 2: keep the effort steady, based on your flat route pace, and expect the slower uphill segments to be balanced by the faster downhill segments.  Based on my race in the Hilly Hundred this year, where I ran mostly on feel, I decided to stick more to Option 2.  So, I practiced on a short loop starting outside my front door where I could judge how much time/distance I would lose on the ups and whether I would be able to get it back on the downs.  Training said it was possible (in fact, I actually beat my 10K PB in one practice session).

After spending the race briefing in the front row of the pack (I'd left space for 60 runners to line up in front of me and they all waited until the last moment to move to the start line), I set off on pace.  On each uphill, I let the gap between me and my virtual pacer grow, and wound him back in on the flats and descents.  The pattern continued as expected, finishing the first 3 miles on pace.  Contrary to my memory of the course, the next 4 miles included more up than down, so I watched the gap to my pacer approach 100m, and had to hold my nerve and avoid chasing, having faith that I could pull the time back over the return the start.  Much to my delight and relief, it worked out and I hit 10 miles as planned, just ahead of my computerized rival.

I knew, at that stage, that I would get my sub-1:30, and that I might just have enough in the tank to hold on to my plan-A pace.  As one would expect, the final 5K was quite hard.  The final hills between 10 and 12.5 ate a bit into my time, but I had a good downhill to take me into the final half mile, and finished with a nice acceleration to the finish line.  I tried to sprint, but there wasn't much sprint left, and finished dead on 6:45 pace - 1:28:26.  I don't know if I'll ever execute another race plan so accurately.  In fact, I'd be shocked if it ever happens again.  That said, sometimes plans work because they accurately reflect training rather than just being a hopeful plucking of numbers from thin air.  Now, if I can just manage that at Rocky Raccoon 2015...

Tewkesbury Half Marathon - A different kind of running goal

Yesterday I had a nice run out at the Tewkesbury Half Marathon.  My friend Tim has been targeting this race for about a year, probably from about 3 minutes after he finished last year's edition.  Originally, he was going to finally crack the 1:30 - something we've both been circling around for far too long.  Then, in December, he was diagnosed with cancer.  Within a few days, he had changed his goal to getting through the treatment and then the race.  Not long after that, I changed my goal for the weekend (usually spent playing at the Hilly 100 relay) to be making sure that if Tim got to the start line that he made it to the finish line.  His attitude to getting to Tewkesbury on race day has been amazing, but he has a weak spot at races of going out faster than he should, and I knew that as much as anything else on race day, he would need someone else's pace strategy if he was going to get around.  I never doubted that Tim would make it to the start line but I wasn't so sure he would be able to make the finish line without some company.  With some great care and a dose of good fortune, he got the all clear a few weeks ago and has been ramping up the training steadily ever since.

Pre-race was a pretty good atmosphere.  Plenty of club members turned out to support Tim.  Most would be racing as normal and then cheering him in at the end.  Others were going to run with him for a while and then see how things went (some would speed up, others would slow down).  My official job, reinforced by instruction from Tim's wife, Mandy, was to make sure that Tim finished in a fit state to enjoy the rest of his day.  My unofficial job, reinforced by the knowledge that Tim is a stubborn so-and-so and deeply competitive, was to make sure that Tim finished in a state only just fit enough to enjoy his party, and just exhausted enough to know that he'd actually raced as well as his body would let him.

The man of the hour surrounded by friendly support. (courtesy of Steve Sandalls)

The race started easily enough.  We headed for the back third of the pack to make sure there were plenty of obstacles to keep us from rushing off the line.  The hundreds of runners in front of us kept things nice and tidy for the early miles.  Tim and I were joined by Sue, Caz, Katy, and Chris, which made for a nice sociable start.  I spent a lot of time looking at my Garmin to make sure we kept down to 8:30 miles or slower, and Tim spent a lot of time looking for Mandy and their son Ben, who were waiting along the route to cheer him on.

I'll be honest, I don't much like the Tewkesbury race, and would never have entered in normal circumstances.  So, I'm pretty sure I groused a bit for the first mile or two as we made our way up the non-descript main road towards the motorway.  Once we got out of town, I lightened up as we continued to play the "slow down, there's a long way to go yet" game.  Caz and Katy eased off the pace a bit, and I made an innocuous comment about the weather that inadvertently triggered a short burst of speed.

Have you ever accidentally caused a fellow runner to engage in a monologue about something really quite dull and pointless (i.e. something not related to running, food, running, beer, or running)?  Well, at around 10K we got to hear all about how Kit Marlow wrote most of Shakespeare and how the Titanic didn't sink.  Personally, Marlow and Shakespeare are rather long dead, so I'm pretty convinced that it doesn't really matter to either of them who gets the credit / blame for creating Romeo, Othello, and Bottom.  As for ship conspiracies, they happened in the water, and I'm not a big fan of water, so I'll steer clear, thank you very much.  Anyway, you get the picture.  Tim and I gently increased the speed until we could return to our own very enlightening conversation (it may have been about running, or possibly beer, who knows?) - it was the only time all morning that I didn't tell him to slow down!  We lost Chris at this point, and I wondered if perhaps she now had a new friend to chat with.

The sun continued to shine, Tim unsurprisingly started to tire, and I continued to yap inanely as we made our way to the finish line.  We sent Sue on her way to chase down a negative split and a PB.  With the benefit of a steady first half, she nailed it.  Having done very little training during his convalescence, Tim held the 8:30 pace remarkably well until 10mi, where the course's only uphill comes to play.  We eased off for the final 3 miles, with a few short walking breaks to keep things under control.  It was interesting to watch Tim manage his resources.  Under normal circumstances, he would have been willing and able to dig in and keep close to that 8:30 pace in spite of the pain and fatigue, and I would have been quite happy to push him through the barriers.  For this one race, though, the time was secondary. This race marked his return to running as a healthy man, and doing unnecessary damage just to go slightly less slowly would have lessened the achievement. So, we ran, walked, jogged, and chatted as we pushed just enough to cross the line with the right level of exhaustion.

At the end, Tim insisted I finish next to him or in front of him.  He knew full well that I would quietly drop behind him in the final yards, and let me know that wasn't going to happen. So, we made our way across the line side by side as family and friends cheered him on.  He needed a good sit down in the shade for a bit, but wasn't so tired that he couldn't worry about some of the club who were still out suffering on the course (and later at the finish), so it seems we judged the effort about right.  For my part, I'd had a good run out with a friend and managed help him achieve his worst ever half marathon time (1:55).  Maybe next year we'll manage to pace each other to that sub 1:30.  If we do, I can guarantee it still won't touch the satisfaction of yesterday's race.

Broadway Tower Trail Races - a view from the other side of the line

Normally, I only write about my own efforts or occasionally Nicola's.  Last weekend, for the first time in a while, I crossed the fence to the dark, hidden side of running: race directing.  The majority of that activity will remain dark and hidden - races are much like sausages: you enjoy them more if you don't see them being made.  But, here are a few reflections on the day.

Broadway Tower Marathon Start - photo courtesy of CM Running Photography

The routes for the Broadway Tower Marathon & Half Marathon have been under design for quite some time.  The original route was planned in the spring and in place early in the summer, with the diversion (the one I designed, not the unplanned ones) decided a bit more recently.  They include some of the most beautiful views the area has to offer, even on a rainy day.  On a nice day, the route can be absolutely stunning.  Over the past few years, these trails have been fantastic to run on, with occasional slippery bits and plenty of good hard-packed, often rock hard ground.  With the ridiculous amount of rain we've had locally this summer, some of the fields turned to sticky, muddy, horrible mires - especially in the 3rd quarter of the marathon course.  Having run nearly all of the route on the Wednesday and Thursday before the race, I am full of admiration for all of the competitors.  Conditions underfoot were tough out there on Saturday (but not a patch on how bad it was amid Sundays downpours!), and if the sun hadn't come out I dare say we would have had a regular transfer service running from the 20mi check point to the race base.

In every event, there are plenty of unexpected surprises on the day, for runners and organisers.  I can't imagine how difficult it would have been for everyone without the telephone safety net.  A few people needed some extra directions and reassurance they were on the right route and phoned to check.  A few probably should have made calls but didn't.  For anyone planning to run on the trails, whether racing or training, it's always a good idea to take a phone.  A quick text or call to say "I'm lost," "I'm OK, just really slow," "I'm really cold and need some help" can be the difference between a good day and a disastrous one.  Personally, I've used my phone for all of the above.  It's also worth knowing/remembering that a text message will send in low signal better than a phone call will connect.

I didn't get the chance to speak to everyone as they crossed the finish line, but I tried to catch up with as many as I could, and seeing the sense of achievement on so many faces was fantastic, and something I won't soon forget.  

Hot Running in the Scottish Highlands: The Nairn 1/2 Marathon

When we signed up for the Nairn Half Marathon, the goal was to have a bash at setting some fast times after a Summer of focus on speed rather than just endurance.  I looked high and low for a flattish half in August or early September, and found one just a short drive from Nic's sister and her family - the bonus of a family get-together made the race too good to pass up.  Of course, it's a 10-12 hour drive to get there, so a little planning was needed to make sure we arrived in condition to run!  Luckily, Nic's folks live about 2/3 the way there, so we got to stop off and enjoy even more family time on both the out and back, as well as breaking up the drive.

The Nairn Half has the unique (to my knowledge, anyway) feature of being part of the local Highland Games.  So, unlike many local races, the spectators at the finish actually outnumber the runners by quite a large margin.  It also means that there's plenty going on when you finish, so the post-race is quite enjoyable.

We arrived around 11am to register and avoid getting stuck in traffic heading for the Games, and took in as much of the grass track and arena as we could.  Nic particularly enjoyed hearing the sound of a lone piper playing a short distance from the park as we wandered along the seaside paths.  You can take the lassie out of Scotland...  With around 30 minutes to go, we started our gentle warm-up, as usual checking out the 1st and last mile of the course, loosening limbs, etc.  The clouds that had threatened to keep things cool for this afternoon race began to blow past, leaving us in no doubt that the weather would be abnormally warm for a visit to the northern beaches!

The clouds start to drift off as we get into our warm-up.

At the start, the local runners were looking up, worried that the foreign yellow disc might stay put throughout the race.  I had already added five seconds per mile to both of our planned first half splits, to allow for the added warmth in this cold and dreary Summer, so was confident that we would survive without too much damage from the sun.  Nic's sister had kindly leant us some sunscreen, since it's not normally in our Scottish travel kit.  It was a good thing, too, since our shoulders hadn't spent much time in the open lately.

Nic sporting the new prototype Cotswold Running vest.

At 12:30, I found myself in the second row, waiting for the fast runners to come and line up in front of me.  Only a few did, because everyone wanted the inside line for the initial lap of the track.  When the gun (and it was actually a starter's pistol!) fired and the short stretch of jostling was finished, I found myself in around 6th place on the inside of the track.  By the time we left the track, I was in the more sensible and lucky 13th position, keeping a close eye on my watch to make sure I wan't going dangerously quickly.  Within a quarter mile, nearly 20 runners passed me as I maintained my pace.  I was confident some would come back eventually, based on previous years' results.  This year's field was nearly twice the normal size, so I was curious to find out how many would come back if I finished in my goal time of sub-1:30.

The first two miles of the course are fairly innocuous.  The goal was to keep in the region of 6:50 before hitting the little hill in the 3rd mile.  By the end of the 2nd mile, the field in front of me was at its largest, and the combination of the warm day and early enthusiasm was already starting to take its toll.  When the hill approached, the first few runners came back quite quickly.  I kept a beady eye on the watch to make sure I wasn't riding the "thrill of the hunt" to blow my own race as I steadily worked my way back towards the top 20.  At the first water stop, I encountered my first "grab-and-stop" of the day.  What is it that causes otherwise sensible people to grab the first available cup of water and suddenly break into a walk, making it impossible for the next runner to access either the way forward or the next cup of water?  I'd like to say I pushed the offending runner into a ditch rather than simply running through him and spilling his water, but he apologized and I carried to get my own drink and douse without losing too much pace.

From the "top" of the hill to the half way mark is a very gentle slope, or "false flat", which means that every now and then, you can look down the road and wonder why it feels a bit harder than it should to maintain pace.  As I approached the 5 mile marker, I encountered my first "walker" - he was definitely suffering from the searing sunshine and lack of a breeze.  I noted a windmill turning well in the distance and immediately realized that the lack of air movement was essentially a tail-wind - a bit of a worry on what is basically an out-and-back course.  At the next water stop, I tried to let the runner in front and the 1st volunteer know I was aiming for the 2nd volunteer's water.  Too late, the runner stopped right in front of me and the volunteer kindly tried to hand me water as I was passing through.  I got an extra douse, apologized my way to the 2nd volunteer, grabbed some more water for a sip and shower and again continued on my way.  At around 6.5 miles, a kind man had placed a sprinkler over the road to help cool us off - a welcome burst of cool since my vest had dried quickly after the water stop.

Then, we turned into the wind and I stopped feeling hot.  At first, the breeze was refreshing - it was only just starting to really get up.  This section of the course was broadly down hill, with occasional short tree-lined stretches to offer a bit of shade.  I had expected a reasonable amount of wind, but it was becoming quite an obstacle.  I managed to maintain my pace through to 9 miles with an effort, losing a second here and there and finding it more difficult to recover the time.  The 10th and 11th miles had some small hills, but nothing particularly taxing.  Unfortunately, they also had some significant sections into the stiff headwind, and I dropped 50 seconds as I struggled against it.

With the final push to the line, I got back onto pace with a good downhill and some changes of direction, but the damage was done.  Sub-1:30 would take a superhuman effort, and even getting a PB was at risk.  I needed to leave everything on the road to have any chance of a good result, and pushed as hard as I could.  The race finishes with a lap of the grass track, surrounded by cheering spectators, but I honestly couldn't hear anything.  I focused on following the yellow line and the runner a few seconds ahead and speeding up for all I was worth.  In the end, I was about 200 yards too slow, finishing in 1:30:38 - 55 seconds faster than my previous best set in March.

The flags got a good workout, and the beer tent had to be dismantled and turned into an open-air bar, as the wind got up.

Nic suffered even more in the wind, having turned into it after it had already stopped just being a breeze.  She still took a minute off her previous best, and is looking forward to a slightly more favourable day to pick up a couple more minutes.  The day had been scheduled for some fast times, but the conditions were not the best on the day.  We found out later that the wind had even been strong enough to cause problems at the beer tent at the Games - a temporary tragedy that was dealt with by removing the tent and running the bar under the blazing sun.

A little music to entertain us as we lounged in the grass.

We enjoyed a different recovery from the usual (the beer tent was being dismantled as we finished), sitting with Nic's sister and our nieces enjoying the track races, Highland dancing, tug-o'-war, caber tossing, and marching pipe bands.  I think we both suffered a little sunburn and no little windburn, but it was an amazing way to wind down from a hard race.  I guess next year we'll just have to train a little harder!