Gosport Half Marathon 17/11/2013

The Curious Incident of the Portaloo in the Airfield

I have managed to fit in a lot of races in a short period of time, this is my 43^rd race since I started in December 2011, and I think this my favourite half marathon I have run. The Gosport Half Marathon is well organised and friendly, the marshals are ace, the route is flat, the scenery is pretty good, and the PB potential is a good 9 out of 10. Everything was pointing towards having a great crack at a sub 1 hour 35 minute finishing time, everything but my absent mindedness and forgetting the first major rule of preparing for any race!

Sunday morning brings with it a cold bite and a very crispy chill in the air, brass monkeys, parky, and a certain part of a witches’ anatomy could also describe what Mother Nature has furnished us with on this fine day. I briefly pick up my running tights and then put them down in favour of my shorts, not wanting to finally succumb to wintery running clothing, everything else was duly laid out the previous night ready for this morning, even my number was pinned to my shirt! Running gear all accounted for, fresh clothes, towel, travelling trackie, gels, bloks, Vaseline, Imodium.. ahh hold up no Imodium, no worries I will grab some on the way.

I bet you can now guess the theme to this blog, I will try not to build the anticipation of toiletry  conducts, however this is the main part of my story, my running chums (no pun intended) I am sure will sympathise and relate to the dilemma, for everyone else lets refer to it as runners belly !!

Grabbing my kit I head over to Gary’s house and wait for Luc, there is only one road in and out of Gosport so we leave in plenty of time to get there. I momentarily forget the need to purchase Imodium and when I do remember we have already gone past all the shops, I decide that I probably will not need it as it should take me just over an hour and a half to complete and there will be toilets en route if needed. I will rue this decision with a passion between miles 8 and 10 with a pain that can surely only be comparable with childbirth.

We arrive, park up and make our way to collect our timing chips. Just before I drop my bag off I decide that it’s probably a good idea to nip to the gents before the start, walking through the school doors I am confronted with huge queue snaking round the corner. Rue decision number 2 (again no pun intended) not to bother queuing up and head towards the start.

With 15 minutes to go we assemble near the start line, we have collected Colin and Hannah along the way and stand shivering waiting for the gun. I have a strategy for the race, the first 5 miles all under 7 minutes each, then the remaining between 7 and 7:30, this should mean I hit 1 hour 35 minutes squarely on the nose. It starts to get more packed as about 1600 runners stand shoulder to shoulder waiting for the off. There are so many club t shirts in this race, because it is flat it attracts a lot of good runners from quite far a-field and it is an excellent opportunity to achieve a personal best. This was certainly my intention and as long as everything went to plan I should shave at least two minutes off of my Portsmouth half Marathon time of 1:36:50, the Portsmouth is a trail race so in comparison this should be much easier to get sub 1:35.

The tannoy crackles into life and we are ushered forward, a surge of vested runners huddle together awaiting the off. The gun goes and the race begins. As always my excited legs bound me off fast, propelling me forward like an excited puppy, we start on an open road where there is a lot of space to find your ground and your pace, it soon files into a narrow pathway where there is not much room for overtaking manoeuvres, this normally would be an issue but as it is at the beginning of the run it probably saved me going too hard and fast in the first couple of miles. We turn off the pathway and into an airfield, now running to the sound of Caribbean steel drums, beating out music of sunnier climates, palm trees, and relaxation ahhhhhhhh, the music vibrated through the ground and up through my body, it was kind of euphoric and at that time I was really really enjoying my race.

I will pass the drums again at mile 9 as we take in two loops of the airfield, already I was well into mile 4 and all of my mile times so far had started with a 6, bang on schedule, my legs felt good, my breathing was great, everything was in tune and I was starting to think that Gos-Vegas was the place to set my fastest run yet.

Exiting the airstrip we move back onto the roads again, up towards Stubbington and through some housing, people were standing at the end of their drives cheering and handing out jelly babies, I was eating up some serious pavement and had settled in a group who were all running at 7 min mile pace, a little part of me thought maybe I could hit nearer to 1:30, I started to calculate the times in my head and whether this was possible, did I have enough miles left to make up a few seconds here and there ?? , could I pick it up a bit now or should I save some in the tank and really push hard for home ??, maybe I should eat a shot blok and .. *gargle* .. my stomach flipped a bit, ok no need to panic just yet, so perhaps if I ate a shot blok now and then picked up the pace a little bit .... *big stomach gargle* .. and there it was, without warning ‘runners belly’ crept up on me slapped me in the face and had my eyes darting around for the closest conveniences. By this point we had entered into the airfield again, I could hear the steel drums being played with enthusiasm and zest, this time however it felt more like impending Indian war drums, the kind that instead of making you want to dance makes you want to hide instead. The vibrations reverberated through my body and lingered in my stomach, shaking and shuddering it to and fro, pushing and squeezing, bubbling into a crescendo of white horses crashing and tearing like a tsunami of pain ….. yep its runners belly alright. The only known cure known to man is the cross legged run. I broke into the cross legged run quite quickly, it’s a kind of weird skip where everything is clenched, it comes in waves and if you miss out on a clench you may end up regrettably ‘doing a Radcliffe’. My eyes are scouring my surroundings, but this is an airfield, there are no tree’s or bushes, everywhere is just a vastness of nothing, you can run 500 yards in any direction and still be out in the open. This is getting serious now and I am briefly thankful I am wearing gloves (now people who have been in similar positions and have experienced runners belly will understand what I meant by this sentence, sometimes when you are in the middle of nowhere, especially in a trail race you have to make do with what you have, it is not uncommon for runners to start a race wearing gloves and socks and sometimes come back having left them buried in the woods, if you still don’t understand what I mean think what you would do in a festival portaloo when there is no paper left).

Now I am not a religious man, in fact far from it, but if ever I was going to believe in any god it may well be the deity of runners, it was like Hermes himself saw my plight and zapped down a sign, a mirage shinning in an asphalt desert adorned from a lamppost with an arrow pointing which simply read ‘toilets’. The clenched run became an awkward hop shuffle as if reading that very word was enough to leave the departure lounge and board the plane, my outstretched hand reached for the handle and with great relief pulled the unlocked door open. The next few minutes were spent waving goodbye to a PB and thinking Freud may have a point with his theories of psychological gratification and concluding that expulsion was definitely more rewarding than retention.

Getting back running again was just as difficult, I now have to set off again at a similar pace and my legs complained a lot, stopping in any run makes it so difficult to start again, your legs seize up and the inclination to proceed wavers, this is why runners will always hop and bound at traffic lights waiting to cross the road, not wanting to cool down, keeping warm to start again. It took a good mile before I got into my stride and I reckon I must have lost about 3 or 4 minutes in total for my unscheduled pit stop with no way of catching up this lost time. We leave the airfield and head down to Lee on Solent beach promenade, the scenery cheers me up and I focus on the last couple of miles home, a couple of half decent miles and I will be close to my PB, which under the circumstances is better than nothing. I don’t know what my exact time is as I had stopped my Garmin in the portaloo but I continue to run about 7 minute miles. Stokes Bay is looming and the cheering crowd is getting more condensed, I can see the finish line as I turn the corner and look at the clock on the right hand side, I put in one final sprint and take in my time as I cross the line.

1:37:10 !!!!

20 Seconds off of a PB !!!!

I don’t know whether to be happy or gutted, 20 seconds out but 4 minutes down, the end result is that it is not a personal best, but I know I can spank my old time.

I

 jog back up the road and cheer on the other guys with encouragement such as ‘the beer is near’ and ‘call that a sprint finish’ Lisa is first in view and dishes out a high five, then its Colin and Hannah who have had a great race, closely followed by Luc and Gary who battle it out for a fast finish.

The good news is that everyone bar me achieved a PB, the course is fab, I could wax lyrical about how much I enjoyed (most of) this event, it was split down into manageable chunks and recognisable splits therefore making it better to not only judge the distance, but to decrease it to an extent where the miles flew by quickly and markers could easily be established. For anyone looking for a fast well organised half, this is it!

So 43 races in and I am still learning, runners belly is like stealthy ninja that can make you run like a crab and cry like a girl, my advice ? Always remember Imodium, always check out where the loo’s are on the map beforehand, never dismiss a queue, oh and if needed always wear gloves. 

I am still wearing both gloves !!

Ghost Race 01/11/2013

Ghost Race 01/11/2013

A late Friday evening we gathered at night,

Among Witches and Ghosties delivering fright,

The air full cackles and warbling boo’s,

As Skeletons and Zombies laced up running shoes.

The spooks gathered round aside undead and vamps,

Furnished with glow-sticks and beaming head lamps,

Our numbers pinned tight as we stood in the park,

Awaiting the gun to set us free in the dark.

Through sodden wet grass and thick gloopy mud,

We ran next to monsters teeth dripping with blood,

The trees masked the moon and darkness provided,

Perfect cover for ghouls and for souls now misguided.

Up and over the bridge and into the woods,

Fled creatures and ogres with dark sack like hoods,

Behemoths and beasts would surely be there,

As we ran through in numbers and entered their lair.

Ghastly sounds filled the night’s cold eerie grasp,

As fiendish night freaks jumped out into our paths,

A witch beckoned us closer shooing us into the copse,

Towards screaming banshees and bony faced corpse.

The lingering terrors of Halloween fills the air,

As we now push for home with hearts full of scare,

And out of the woods with a blistering pace,

The finish line sighted to end our Ghost race,

A jump in the air and a heel click to boot,

Marks the end of this fiendish and foreboding route.

A medal to show we survived the nights grapple,

A bag full of goodies and a sweet toffee apple,

The evil and fearsome have now left the course,

And still are the trees and the bushes of gorse,

Yet a noise to be heard near the dark misty stream,

A gargle at first rising into a scream.

A bedraggled white figure hair over her eyes,

Is the last of the evenings most ghoulish surprise,

The girl of the woods has reclaimed her park,

And with a giggling laugh disappears in the dark.

Beachy Head Marathon - 27/10/2013

Beachy Head Marathon

Two ‘unders’ dominated my Beach Head experience, under prepared and under estimation.

I knew I was entering into the unknown with this race, but I was fairly confident that completion was inevitable providing I took it nice and steady and just sat back and enjoyed the ride. This was officially my 12^th marathon (official race stats) and I was relying on previous form and muscle memory to get me round the hugely undulating course. I hadn’t run a marathon since the London in April but I have been keeping myself busy with lots of shorter distances, and I was training harder at the gym and at home. I knew I was underprepared but hey, I have run 12 organised marathons and about 4/5 of my own ones too, I have competed in undulating hilly events in all types of weather so this wouldn’t be any different to any other marathons.

My second ‘under’, underestimating basically everything on this course, the hills, the weather, the drink/feed stations, my fatigue, the terrain, my fitness, mental preparation, and my strength. I cannot express how much this marathon killed me, 26.2 little miles accumulating into one huge ball of pain and mental torture. I would like to say I have over exaggerated a bit, but the pictures tell the story.

The weekend was due to be a windy one, I went up to the course on the Friday to check out the terrain and it was indeed blustery to say the least. Following the course round to about 20 miles or I pulled into a car park next to a meandering ox bow lake, the scenery is stunning, lakes, hills , countryside, cliffs, views of the see, just amazing. It had been raining for a couple of days so the ground was wet and muddy which coincided badly with the fact that I was going to be completing this run in my road shoes, slippery muddy ballerina Andy is sure to make an appearance.  

Staying overnight at my Mum’s I was full of excitement and dread in equal quantities, which didn’t help my insomnia, it was going to be tough enough competing in the race let alone on only 3 hours sleep ! Eastbourne is only half hour from my Mums apartment in Bexhill and the dry run the day before ensured there was no road works to slow me down, I would get there and register with plenty of time to spare. I hate rushing about and the night before a race I always check and double check my kit bag, everything was laid out for cold, wet and windy weather conditions. Double socks, double gloves, 2 snoods (one for bandana one for face), shorts, calf guards, trainers, knee tape, under armour long sleeve, wind jacket, charity vest, 2 Gels, 1 packet of shot bloks, sports drink for the journey up, cliff bar, and of course cocodemol and Imodium.

Waking up before the alarm at 6.30 I got ready and headed off, the sky was still dark, there was rain in the air, and the trees and bushes were blowing side-wards. If it was like that here what on earth is the wind going to be like on top of the cliffs of the seven sisters! I arrived promptly at registration and collected my number and timing chip, the start/finish arch had just been blown up and I took a wander over to see what hill was first to greet us, and there she was, in all of her grassy sheer glory, literally 20 yards from the start a sharp incline was to welcome us with knee jellifying and breath stealing steepness. There is no chance of getting in to your pace here, you just have to suck it up and let your thighs take a bashing from the get go, pump your arms, dig deep in the calves, and push on up to the top where the sound of the piper rings out in your ears, like a fanfare announcement that your pain starts here.

An hour later and I am standing looking up at the hill with about 1500 other fellow marathoners, it is still pretty cold and windy but I have dressed accordingly so am pretty sure I will be warm enough on the way round. On my left shoulder is Dave, I often see Dave on cross country runs and marathons, I first met him at the Three Forts Marathon which is another hilly affair, Dave must be in his late 60’s and typifies the people I see in these races, he makes it look easy, and not just for his age, he is genuinely a bloody good marathoner. We get talking and he tells me that he has completed the South Downs 100 this year, now 100 kilometres is a long way, but the South Downs 100 is in miles!! That’s almost x4 back to back marathons, it took him 27hours to complete including stops for food and rest, but no sleep, can you imagine running for 27 hours, its mind blowing, but it also proves to anyone out there that no matter what age you are, anything is possible. Dave is hoping for about 5 to 5.5 hours today, I am hoping for anything between 4 and 5, although to be fair the old adage of ‘just getting round’ is really my motto for today. The countdown begins as we are nattering and we quickly exchange ‘best of lucks’ before poising our fingers over the start button on our Garmins ready for the air horn.

And that’s it, off we go, a bottle neck quickly ensues as 1500 try to cram their way up a very steep and narrow hill, there are steps and foot holes on the way so there isn’t much clambering to be done and it soon gets a lot more spread out as we near the summit. Scottish bagpipes can be heard drifting rhythmically on the wind creating a surreal atmosphere, it is kind of like marching into war, almost foreboding but strangely subduing my mood, as if it is there on purpose to humble the nerves or relax any of my excited ‘start of the race’ acceleration and enthusiasm. The piper is in full Scottish regalia standing high on a copse as the wind breezes over his high feathered hat and carries his music to the ears of fellow racers further back.

The first few miles fly by, there are hills already, you are either running down or running up hill, there is very little flat whatsoever, and the ground varies between muddy, hard, wet, and flinty. The surrounding countryside looks out over hills and valleys and the paths wander through woods and fields. The first 10k is a breeze and times in about 50 minutes, I work out a quick calculation and reckon there is actually a slim chance I could make this in about 4 hours, I push on hard down hills with a new vigour that I might actually crack this in a decent time.

15 minutes later.

Bloody hell!! The weather has changed from cold and overcast to sunny and bloody hot, I am overheating badly and have no-where to strip off any layers, I take off my gloves and bandana and carry them round with me for the rest of the race, I haven’t taken any water with me and am relying on the next stop to come along sharpish, this is a schoolboy error which will bite me on my ass in the miles to come also. We run further into the woods and out the other side, up various inclines until suddenly the wind meets us like a smack in the face, its around mile 8 that I first get scared, although I have done loads of training, I have not put the miles in, I am treading water as the wind takes the pace out of me and my thighs are screaming as I try to push them forward, I start to realise that I am not even a third into this race and already my body is beginning to tell me to pack it in. A brief downhill with high sided banks takes the edge off of the incoming hurricane Jude and there is enough rest-bite to recharge and recover, there is also a feed station coming up where I soon devour a mars bar and refuel on water. Feeling replenished and a little bit less sulky and sorry for myself, I plough onwards and literally upwards to tackle the oncoming onslaught of inclines.

This course is beautiful, everything about it has a view, from start to finish we are running through, around, over and on the most amazing landscapes. At the halfway stage I still have enough consciousness to appreciate everything around me, I am even pointing it out to my fellow runners, I guess it’s about now in their own blogs they are talking about the guy who was annoyingly telling them to look how lovely the stream looks, or isn’t that farmhouse quaint. Checking my watch at this point and I have obviously lost some time, I am still on course for a comfortable 4.5 hours and am pretty chuffed with this, it has been hard work so far and much much tougher than I could have ever expected, but as long as the terrain stays the same I reckon I could carry on plodding and push for home nearer the finish. That is until …… until I get passed by a couple of guys, blue shirt says to white shirt ‘so the steps are coming up soon aren’t they?’ .. steps ?? steps ?? what bloody steps, hold up steps aren’t part of the plan…. White shirt to blue shirt’ nope they are a way off yet, but this is where the race actually starts now’ ….. what does he mean by that? Surely the race started when my legs turned to trifle taking in the first 6/7 hills, or when I was fighting through an invisible wall of marshmallow at the top of the cliffs, or when I was avoiding going for a burton skipping over flints and holes, or when I was sloshing my way through ankle deep mud and water, what does he mean it just gets started here?

We run over a small wooden bridge and turn into a village, a crowd of people cheer us on smiling and waving and giving out jelly babies, round another bend, past some shops and houses, and piff puff poof, this is what he means, the start of a hill bigger than that we have come across as yet, the worst thing is I can see it pulling away from me for miles and I still can’t see the top. I tiptoe jog slowly up the first half mile or so before I give in to my pleading legs and eventually walk, this is only about 15 miles in and I am spent, I am gasping for air and pushing down on my knees with my hands as I waddle my way upwards, this seems to go on for miles and miles. A worm like tingle starts to spread down my calves and pulse in spasms as cramp begins to settle in, I am definitely in a bad way and start to hope there is a van at the top waiting to take me home.

All I can remember between mile 15 and about mile 20 is the sheer pain, it got slightly worse after this for a while but for those particular miles it just all blurs into an amalgamation of utter shitness. The hills turned into steps that seemed to go on forever, I think there were two sets of them too, maybe 3?? I remember trying to pull myself up them with the hand rail wishing for it to all be over. You may be thinking why I do this, what could possess someone to put themselves through this, I am thinking the same thing too don’t worry. Around mile 20 I had to stop and lie down on the grass, I couldn’t run as cramp had taken over both my legs so I just laid in the sheep crap trying to pull my toes down, unusually not one person stopped to help, it was clear I had cramp but not one bugger came to assist. I picked myself up and hobbled on downhill, I didn’t even see the photographer who snapped a great pic which summed up exactly how I felt, eyes close, face full of despair, you can tell this is not enjoyable any more.

But what’s the point of giving up, I have run three quarters of this race know and I have a measly 10k left to run, I like to call this just a lunchtime run as it is what I used to run in my lunch break at work, it also makes it seem a lot shorter than it is and over a lot quicker. Ten kilometres and seven sisters between me and the finish line, surely the worst was over.

The next mile took 22 minutes, I felt faint and dehydrated, I had no water and I could see for miles ahead, the sight of cliff top hills and no feed stations, I get chatting to a couple of fellow runners who are struggling too, and we gain comfort in each other’s discomfort, safety in numbers and all that. I ask to have a sip of someone’s drink and this turn out to be just what I needed to get a bit of PMA about me. The floor seems to dip and rise as I stare down at it, trying not to look too far into the distance and realise the length still left to go. We are right on the cliff edge and the wind howling off the top is crazy fierce, thankfully it is behind us this time and is a welcome push in the back to help me put one foot in front of the other, at times when I am walking the wind actually pushes me to run. Looking up I can see the water stop on the next hill, shining like a beacon, like a mirage, offering a bounty of orange drinks and mars bars, I drink about 5 cups straight off and sit down to eat the food, I am not alone and a few of us are sitting in a stunned silence, when there is talk it is just of how bloody hard this race is and how no one is ever doing it again.

The final straight is upon us, from out of no- where I have a bit of pace about me, I have been taken on supplies and put some fuel in the furnace, plus I only have two more miles left to run, I start overtaking all the people who have run past me in the last 3 or 4 miles and I think at some point I actually cracked a smile, I even spot the photographer and manage a trademark heel click getting some good air to it too. The guy in front of me has run the whole race with his little dog, suddenly a huge gust of wind pushes the dog in front of him and the man duly stacks it to the ground, he is up and running before I get to him so I guess it was ok to laugh a little considering he wasn’t hurt.

I pass a marshal who announces the final mile and it is all downhill, for some reason a wobbly emotional chin appears, let’s just put it down to fatigue, the winding path turns a corner and suddenly I can see the finish, it’s down the big hill that we ran up at the start and 20 yards on for glory. I spot my Mum and Justine at the bottom and can hear Jessica shouting for me, I actually pick up speed and end up with a sprint finish, finishing in a time of 5 hours and 3 minutes.

Never before have I felt so drained and tired after a race, I totally bonked out between miles 18 and 22 and made too many errors, errors in judgement, errors of the conditions and terrain, and errors in my consumption of food and water, but most of all in the pure lack of putting the miles in.

So that’s it, not many smiles or laughs in this one, to be fair I think the only time I felt like laughing was when the guy fell over his dog, this was tougher than any marathon or ultra I have run, this is probably the only race I have completed and whole heartedly said I would never do it again, ever!

I update Facebook saying I have completed the Beachy Head Marathon and a couple of days later my friend Craig asks if I would do it with him next year if we trained properly for it, my reply, ‘yeah why not mate’.

Portsmouth RNLI 10k 06/10/2013

 
Portsmouth RNLI 10K

Training up for this race I have had only one thing in mind, sub 40 minute 10k !! Nothing else, just that. I have been training hard and running fast lately and it has seemed like I have always had that little bit more to give. I have been upping my interval sessions, and upped my weights on squat tracks and core exercises to try and get every last bit of me working to achieve that magical sub 40 goal. I even stopped drinking for that week !!

The Portsmouth RNLI is a perfect opportunity to smash any targets, it’s flat and fast and works on a there and back route along the sea front. I run here a lot and ran with my friend Warren on this exact same route in the weeks leading up to the race. Warren is a fast runner and an awesome sprinter, he is stepping up to longer distances but has explosive pace and stamina, between us we have ran a 42.17 and a 43 minute 10k on the two training runs before the race, and we both knew we had more in the tank to really have a bloody good go at hitting the target.

Training at night means it is nice and cool, the wind hitting you off the front can be awful but it has been fine and unusually warm for September and October. I am actually approaching the race with a huge amount of bravado and vigour, there is no doubt I will do this.

The race is one of many organised by Rob Piggott’s believe and achieve series, and todays 10k will be run alongside the Pieces of Eight Pirate Run. I haven’t fancied the Pirate one as yet, 8 miles just seems like a strange distance, falling in the void between 10k and 10 mile category, however the medal was very good so maybe I will do it next year? (not that I am a bling chaser you understand .. ok maybe a little bit).

Rob organises events in aid of the R.N.L.I and they are always excellently executed and a pleasure to run, cycle, kayak in. This event is no different, plenty of parking, good pre-race food and drink available, massage service, baggage store, wide start, chipped time, pleasant marshals, good spectator views and somehow he even made the weather shine for us as well ! The only downside being that my nervous pre-race bladder had to stay put due to the never ending queue for the limited portaloo facilities.

So its race day, Michelle drives us down the short distance from Gary’s house to the Start, picking up Luc along the way. Michelle is getting married in a week’s time and I am impressed with her race prioritisation attitude rather than attending to the trivial matter of last minute wedding preparations ha ha.  

Dropping the bags off we pin our numbers on and warm up, I am testing out new fasteners for my numbers called Event Clips, they seem to be doing an awesome job at the moment, no more annoying number flapping or pin tearing. The plan is to get fairly near the front, we should be racing in the top 30 or so runners and we don’t want to be treading on toes or avoiding people, then a fast first mile where Luc, Warren and I should stick together, and then all run our own race after this. Huddled together at the start line and satellites aligned we are ready to go.. .. Countdown to 1 and we are off.

Getting in to my stride I see Warren pulling away ahead of me, I don’t want to get tempted to keep with him as I know he starts very fast in all of our training runs, although I don’t want him to disappear out of site either. The pace is very fast and I look down to check the first ¼ of a mile, when I look up again Luc has pulled alongside me and is gunning down the road, we run side by side for ¾ of a mile before Luc tails off slightly, the first mile clocked in at 6 minutes so everything is bang on track.

I absolutely love this route, the first mile is always over quickly and then you are next to the beach and sea, there is no headwind today either and the conditions are perfect. I cut the race down, as usual,  into segments and that’s the first bit done (Eastney toilets, not glamorous I know but it’s the first mile marker), next segment is the Coffee Cup Stand but the next goal is to catch up with Warren who is gradually getting further away. Passing the fantastic smell of coffee and pastries I put in a little spurt and pull alongside Warren, we can’t really talk at this point, the first two miles have been fast and tough, I point out that the next marker is close (South Parade Pier) and then we are very nearly half way. We run hard together now, pass the pier, pass the pyramids, up a small incline, round the corner and that’s it half way, I check my watch and it tells me I am bang on target, 19 minutes 22 seconds for the first 5k.

Isn’t it funny when things are short lived, funny as peculiar rather than amusing, like the months leading up to a holiday seem to drag then the holiday itself is over in a second, or that interview you are dreading that turns out to be fun, or when you eat yoghurt with a big spoon, or in this case the elation of being bang on target for an amazing time when suddenly a stitch the size of a small South American Village punches you squarely in the face.

Running down through Castlefields and the stitch has me caught in her vice like grip, I had pulled away from my running buddy and now I actually had to stop because it hurt that bad, I look down at my watch and see the seconds slipping away along with my hope of securing that sub 40. Anger and emotion erupted, and I apologise to any of my fellow runners who may have got a pissed off grunt noise when they asked me if I was ok (I was the skinny guy, standing still, holding his side, next to the steps in Castlefields, Children with Cancer UK running vest on, looking about as happy as a poor church mouse, that’s just had an enormous tax bill on the very day his wife ran off with another mouse, taking all the cheese). Warren runs on and I hobblejog after him.

There isn’t much you can do with a stitch, I like to try and ignore it and count up to twenty then back down again, this is a trick that takes your mind off of things, it works in longer runs when the pace is slower, however in this race I am still trying to run as fast as I can so it doesn’t work so well with trying to breathe at the same time. I am running on a camber like a listing ship, I am not really making a great deal of progress, its more of an ungainly staccato’d fast shuffle. At this point I need some encouragement, just something to get my head out of my derriere, someone to fill me with confidence, someone like Touchline Tony Male to boom out praise and re-assurance, his dulcet tones that we have heard so many times in half time announcements ring through my ears like golden notes of pure inspiration. Cheers Tony that was what I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself, catch up with Warren and make sure he gets a PB.

Getting my jog back on again I chase the man down, smack his ass and tell him we are out to get his PB, he was saying that he was flagging but I told him not to talk and put everything into the run, my goal is now not an option but getting his PB is now paramount. Passing our markers we pick up the pace, Eastney toilets marks the final mile and we push on hard for the finish line, I run ahead telling Warren if he keeps up with me he will do it, shouting orders all the time (bossy huh!!) ‘do not let me beat you, do not let me out sprint you’ we round the corner and can see the finish line, I hear Justine telling me to bloody well sprint, so we do, we are on our toes, I keep up for all of 20 yards or so before the big man hits his stride and crosses the line in 41.36, I follow on in 41.43…… 41.43 ….. 41.43 !!!!!!

I will explain the reasoning for the repeated time mentions and explanation marks in a bit, for now back to the race, presented with our superb medals (good job Mr Piggott) and goodie bags I make tracks back to cheer on the others over the line, Luc is next and nicks my trademark heel click, then Colin, Gary, then Michelle. I wait to cheer on Gary (Shirley) who was taking part in the Pieces of Eight run too. Everyone has hit great times and PB’s for Warren and Luc, Gary even had a sprint finish !!

So, 41.43 and it significance, I was so caught up with not hitting a sub 40 minute 10k, that I totally forgot that I had a PB over this distance of 41.35, just one second faster than Warren’s finishing time. I could have annihilated my PB if I had realised earlier that it was still on, I just didn’t think, I was too wrapped up in feeling gutted that I wasn’t going to hit my target. I would like to say I shrugged it off, but it still annoys me now as I am writing this a week later, the only comfort is that I know I can smash my PB next time.

So all in all a real mix of a race, it had great parts, crap parts, fun parts, but it comes fully recommended for anyone thinking of doing it in the future. So what’s next I hear you all scream, well I now have two weeks to train for the Beachy Head Marathon, two weeks should be enough right ?? I have a feeling the next blog might be eventful.

Butser Hill Challenge 22/09/2013

Cajoled!! It makes a great sound as it rolls around your mouth, it’s a half-way house between congealed and paroled but generally means that you have been forcefully persuaded to participate in something which is probably against your better judgement. Something like taking part in a one hour body combat class an hour and a half before you take part in a race consisting of running up and down an 888 foot hill three times.

And so I was cajoled by my gym buddies (Team Pump) to beat up an invisible man for an intense cardio workout on Sunday 22^nd September before competing in the Butser Hill Challenge. To be fair I guess it was down to me that the guys were taking part in the challenge in the first place, although there was no cajoling I certainly threw down the gauntlet, and the pursuing banter made it impossible to withdraw from either event without facing immense ridicule and a very high chance of being ostracised from any future gym activity.

Butser Hill is the highest point of the South Downs National Park in Hampshire, the challenge was founded in 1978 and was one of the first major and toughest organised mass runs. It is a demanding ‘grade B’ short fell run taking in 3 steep ascents and descent of Butser Hill.  The organiser describe the run as follows ‘It is a demanding run and it is therefore essential that competitors are both medically and physically fit.’ ‘The course is rutted in places, with badger scrapes, rabbit holes and flint. I can also be slippery on bare chalk and if the grass is wet.’

I competed in this event last year in pea soup fog and side-ward rain. This year I fancied smashing last years’ time as the weather was ace and touching on the warm side, it was just the one hour Combat class to get through first.

I pitched up at Horizon Gym in Waterlooville nice and early, so far just me and one other waiting for the class, no sign of team pump as yet (so called because we all attend the Body Pump class, however upon reflection Team Combat sounds a hell of a lot better). I was starting to think I was being done over until Mike glided on over sporting his usual Southampton top, followed by Sophie and Ross, JT was on the Vodka last night so she will meet us at the hill. Dean (group instructor) is also signed up for the run so I was hoping that he would be talking it kinda easy, not too much work on the legs today, maybe I might get away with 75% effort. Fast forward one hour, I am feeling sort of broken, I haven’t done Combat for about 2 months and now I can’t find a place on me that doesn’t ache, It even hurts a bit to pull my top off over my head. Dean doesn’t do 75%, its 100% or nothing, I take some kind of masochistic pleasure that the next event is more my domain and that the tables will be turned, I still bloody ache though.

It’s a short drive to Butser hill and the gang meet up, we are all here apart from Dean. Colin turns up to be official photographer but not to take part (some lame excuse about having already done a triathlon that morning). I think the workout has actually warmed me up well and I am bang up for the challenge, the hill definitely looks a lot steeper when you are standing at the bottom of it, but I don’t mind a hill or two, and I train here sometimes so I know roughly how to tackle it.

It is getting closer to the gun and there is still no sign of Dean as we make our way to the start line. GPS aligned and ready as a fanfare of watch bleeps fills the air on the starter’s command of go.  There is only about 200 runners, so there is not a great deal of jostling for position, the tracks are quite wide at this point so you can run 3 or 4 broad and still easily pass if you need to. The first major obstacle wasn’t in fact the first ascent, it was more of an animal intrusion than an obstacle, we started to climb the first few feet of the incline when a sheep on our right hand side thought that now would be a good opportunity to get over to the left hand side, now I am sure that our woolly friends are used to seeing the odd group of trekkers and runners traipsing passed them on a Sunday morning, but I would imagine the sight of 200 people charging towards them might be enough to think that there grass chewing days are numbered and that they will soon they be accompanied with mint sauce. Bleating their disapproval or maybe encouragement the other sheep were egging on the one caught out on the right hand side of us to come and join them, thus resulting in a darting game of chicken as it ploughed in and out of the group of runners like a surreal game of Takeshi’s castle.

So onwards and upwards, quite literally, the first hill is ok, it goes on for a while but it is at more of a gradient so it isn’t so steep, don’t get me wrong it’s not easy but it is fine to plod away and keep the legs moving. At the top you can really see the rolling views of the hills and countryside around you, it’s truly beautiful and everywhere you look is like a picture postcard. This is perfect running territory and I am so lucky that these sort of places are right on my doorstep. Soon the downhill approaches, people have different ideas about running downhill, some take it slow and deliberate, some like to side step and careful pick their way down, I just like to open up my stride an attack it, like a kid running down a slope flaying his arms about so he doesn't fall over. I read somewhere that if you run quick downhill your body will still recover at the same rate as if you had taken it easy, and of course I want a good time so I push on hard and try not to fall over.

I am not a massively competitive person, I am with myself though and I like to beat my own times, but not usually with other people/runners, don’t get me wrong I will always see someone I want to beat, but this is more of a fartleking manoeuvre so I can achieve my goal, rather than any personal running vendetta against an individual, in today’s race however I felt a brewing of competitiveness twice, the first time was half way up the second hill.

Colin was waiting about 200 yards up the main ascend of Butser Hill, capturing a lovely camera shot of me smiling (obviously not pushing hard enough ha) as I began my assault of the grassy incline. I felt really good at this point, I was overtaking more people than were going past me and I felt really strong, the Combat class in the morning had actually warmed up my legs and they were eating up path ahead. About half way up a lady overtook me, she looked to be going really well, it was here when someone shouted at her that she was the second lady that my competitive streak stirred, I had to beat her, not because she was a woman, Christ I get well and truly beaten all the time by women, but because she was the target to aim for, if I could beat the second lady home I must be doing really well. Her blue top seemed to dance off further and further away as I chatted to my thighs to push harder, you have to really believe that the hard work in the gym and on the road accumulates for that moment when you need it the most, if you put trust in your legs that they can do it, they will, they might need a reminder and this is why I talk to them sometimes, usually a shout of ‘come on thighs’ is enough to do the trick! Powering towards the summit I refuse to stop and walk and take great pleasure in the fact that the second hill is almost done, just one more to go and the time is looking good.

Mrs Blue shirt is now at the top and disappearing left towards the second downhill of the race, I know I have to push hard on the next leg to catch her up, I spot her about 100 yards ahead and I stretch out to catch her up. She is getting nearer and nearer until suddenly she is next to me and then behind me, a small morale boosting victory is mine, I feel great, I know that if I can keep in front of her then I will get a good time, and with only one more hill coming up I must be assured of smashing my PB for this course, if only there was a photographer at the bottom of the hill and I would have surely treated him to a trademark heel click, I was kinda euphoric in this small battle that to be fair was only going on in my head, I was …. .. .. …. Being overtaken by Old Father Time!!!! 

Bosh, I hear a swooshing noise of the wind being sucked out of my sails, I don’t know why but all of a sudden I was competitive again. I have huge respect and admiration for the older runner, I absolutely do not expect to beat anyone of an older age because invariably my pre conceptions have been proven wrong in the past. I hope to be an older runner who surprises the nippers one day, but as for today I needed to beat this guy. I don’t mean to be rude when I called him Old Father Time, it was just what I had stuck in my head as he breezed past me in the last few metres of the descent and headed back on up the hill. His calves bulged and flexed as I ran up the single track behind him, there is no room to really overtake anyone here, not that I could have if I wanted to, this guy is a machine. This third and final climb is a lot steeper than the other two, it is also heavier underfoot with more mud and undergrowth to contend with, although this doesn’t seem to faze OFT as he bounds up the terrain like a grey bearded mountain goat. A few people are now walking, they let us pass on through, I can’t even say thanks, my lungs are somewhere in my throat and I am doing everything I can just to keep up, everything is screaming, thighs, calves, lungs, abs, yet still the distance between us is gradually increasing. When we get to the top he is well on his way towards the final descent, it’s about 400 metres or so of flat running before the turn for home. Walkers, marshals and families are cheering everyone on, boosting everyone, squeezing that last little bit of effort out of you, sometimes it’s just a little cheer that can get a big result.

The final downhill!!  As you are running down the hill you can see the finish line at the bottom, it still looks a mile away and the crowd are pretty much in the distance. Sod it lets just go for it, OFT seems to have the same idea and I think we are both balls out running now, slowly I am getting nearer, I’m not sure if I have started too early but I have to catch him! It only feels like I am making up inches but there is a lot of hill still left to run. I am aware that I am now making ‘sex noises’ as I use up everything I have in the tank to run him down, closer, closer, then boom I am on his shoulder, we run next to each other for a while, I am pretty sure he didn't want me to pass him either, I summon up my last bit of energy to edge past him, there is only about 50 yards left to go, it feels like a sprint finish but is more like a fast jog up to the finish line, I have time to look at the clock and over the line I go.

Medal presented I jog up to Colin and wait for the others to finish, Mike is next, then Ross, then an epic sprint to the finish which see’s JT just ahead of Sophie.

An awesome effort from Team Pump which see’s in a total climb of over 2600 feet.

I finished 43^rd in a time of 42 minutes 47 seconds and a total distance of 5 miles (according to my GPS watch) knocking over a minute off of last years’ time.

One final point to mention, not that I am one to name and shame, but Dean Wilson was not able to make this year’s Butser Challenge, so technically we are owed a race, how does Hellrunner sound 04^th January next year :o) . 

Me running behind Mrs Blue Shirt

Start of the main Butser Hill - Smiling !! 

In the background - Top of Butser Hill

Team Pump - Before and After

Medal and well deserved Pint !! 

Old Father Time

Victory Vixens !! Victory 5 15/09/2013

In May of this year I tentatively set up a Facebook Group after some initial interest from some friends and Mum’s at my daughter’s school. The objective was to pick a race at some point in the future and enter it as a ladies only group to raise money for Children with Cancer UK ltd. My first update on the site was as follows;

‘Attention all lady joggers. This FB page has been set up to use your 'get up and go' to get up and go running !! The aim is to run 5 miles, in September for a great charity Children with Cancer UK. Please use this page to discuss training schedules, upload pictures, arrange runs etc. Who knows, we could organise our own event next year. Remember pain is only temporary, but the satisfaction of achievement lasts forever. Let’s do this :o)’

Looking for a reasonable distance and a realistic training timetable I picked the Victory 5 Mile race organised by Portsmouth Joggers on the 15^th September. This would give about 4 months to train for it. The ladies who showed interest were a mix of those that had never run before and those who had run a little. 

Early on we had some injuries which depleted the gang, we lost Suzie and Fiona who had been training hard for the event. We now had a group of 5 runners who decided collectively on a name of the ‘Victory Vixens’. These consisted of Nikki Bone, Amanda Ware, Caroline Tyler and Sarah Fergusson. Nikki was a complete newcomer to running, whereas Mandy Caroline and Sarah had moderate experience of race day running and had completed the Great South Run previously.

We set up a Virgin Just Giving site for sponsorship; 

www.virginmoneygiving.com/team/victoryvixens 

and got down to the nitty gritty of training hard for this race. We promoted the group through friends and family, social networking and local groups and organisations. I had never met Sarah or Caroline before and was immensely chuffed that they joined the group and helped raise some serious cash and awareness for the charity. Nikki had a special reason for running this race, she had lost her nephew Daniel to Cancer when he was just 6 years old and it would have been his 13^th birthday in the week leading to race day. The generosity of her friends and family showed, and our target of £300 was well on its way to being hit already.

The determination and focus to go from running 0 miles to 5 miles was displayed on every training run (well most anyway) and the banter and support on the FB page was awesome. Mandy was eating up the miles up and down Southsea sea front whilst Caroline and Sarah was pounding the hills of Waterlooville, Nik and I tried to go out twice a week locally and incorporated some runs through Foxes Forest and the Sea Front too. The Vixens were certainly taking shape as race day was fast approaching.

The race itself is very flat, but being on the water’s edge means there is a high likelihood of wind at some point, it is very open and comprises of a there and back course with a loop of Lakeside 1000 (the previous IBM building). The 10k race was being run the same day and they would have to loop twice. The best thing is that the race starts and finishes on the running track at the Mountbatten Centre, this means that supporters have a great place to watch the start and finish, and on the day the runners will feel amazing as they sprint down the track ‘finish line’ bound.

Ok one final word about the supporters before we crack on with the race itself, this is a massive thank you to everyone that has supported in some way, to Justine and Dan who have had to fend for themselves whilst Nik and I have been out training, sometimes late into the evening. To the families and partners, sons and daughters who have been woefully neglected whilst everyone has got their jog on. To everyone that turned up on the day including Fiona, Lisa Steve and family, Joseph and Oscar whose fantastic display of breakdancing kept our minds occupied before the race started, and to Caroline’s husband and family for the cheers over the line.

Race Day!!

We all meet up in the sports hall and get our numbers, nervous and excited. This was the first time we had all been together. I was (and am) immensely proud of everyone that day, this has been months and months’ worth of fundraising and training and today was the day. We all have our charity vests on and it felt like we were a real team. An accumulation of all the hard work, the street pounding, the booze abstinent (ha ha yeah right), the fundraising, had all boiled down to this moment and I cannot tell you how emotional and proud it made me feel.

Venturing outside (with maybe one or two nervous WC trips) we presented ourselves to the chilly overcast conditions. There was a slight breeze in the air and all the signs of Autumnal weather were now dominantly apparent. The summer had given me a hope that it would still continue, that it wasn’t really over and that at any time soon I would swap my wind jacket for the sun tan lotion as we experienced a freak Indian summer that would continue to last until at least Christmas. No such luck today but at least it wasn't raining.

There was only about 20 minutes to the gun as we stretched, lunged and jogged to warm up. The Vixen’s families had taken camp near the final straight of the track to ensure maximum shouting and banner waving to convince a sprint finish out of weary legs. We all huddled together for the ‘before’ photo’s before walking to the other side of the track to take our positions. Dishing out high fives (Sarah you left me hanging) I separated from the girls and moved up a bit further up the track. I stood next to Steve who I sometimes see on the marathon circuit, he had a big race last week and next week is planning 3 marathons in 3 days, he is on his 94^th marathon and not long to go before joining the hallowed 100 marathon club and can wear their coveted singlet, Steve is a lot older than me and it goes to show exactly what you can do when you put your mind to it.       

For me I wanted to run the race in sub 32 minutes 30 seconds to keep me on track for a sub 40 minute 10k in October. The weather had turned out nice and there was only a slight chance of a drizzle which meant conditions were nigh on perfect. The 5 mile race is mainly a club race, this means that everyone is of a good standard, I was going to use this to my advantage and try and catch on to the coat-tails of the faster guys and keep with them for as long as possible.

The 5 mile and the 10k started at the same time, which meant there was a real mix of people and ability on the start line all mingled in with each other, it also meant there would be a fight finding position and pace in the first 400 metres or so. I was stuck on the inside about half way through the pack and indeed had to pick my way through gingerly before darting to the outside lane where it was clear.

The race started and off we went, after I had found the outside lane I set off at a pretty good pace, I could hear the supporters cheering us as I hit the first straight and rounded the corner towards the exit into the promenade. Schools of people were overtaking me at this point, I thought I was going at a pretty strong pace, however not as fast as the leading (Kenyan) runner as he quickly disappeared out of sight in the distance (he would later win by running under 5 minute miles). I was definitely being overtaken by more people than I was overtaking, I wasn’t disheartened as this was a club race and the standard would therefore be very high indeed, I wasn’t even set back when a small Father Christmas like character in a striped singlet breezed past me like I was standing still, I now know how he delivers all the presents so quickly on Christmas Day.

The first leg took us up to Hillsea Lido, I had already split this race into 5 unequal parts, I often do this in a race as it makes it easier to control my timings and also gives me targets to run to. The Lido was my first split, the second was up to Lakeside 1000, this was only a short distance but once it has been run it feels good that two parts are over and done with.

Our race coincided with the Ruby Ride for Rowans Hospice, I didn’t see any cyclists but their supporters were there and clapped and cheered us on as we went passed heading into the estate, a loop here saw us back on to the pavement and then down towards the Lido, splits 1, 2, 3 were complete. It was here where I picked up an award for having the most uncomfortable stitch. At first it was just a niggle which I thought I could run off, apparently it had other ideas though and decided to manifest and stick with me for a while, to be fair I have had nicer running buddies.

Split 4 completed and just the home straight to go, running round the corner and past the Lido and then boom, WIND!! It was like running into a small wall, I started to tire and just clocked in a very poor mile, I was making noises like I was chanting for rain but it seemed that I was overtaking people, this was just the little boost I needed to hoist up my skirt and push for home. Passing the one mile marker I always have a little saying in my head ‘this is now just 6 and a half minutes of your life Andy, don’t stop now!’

Heading for home I put a bounce in my step and grimaced against the wind, I could now see the turn into the track and pushed hard, I kind of forgot that there was another 400 metres to go once I had got there, which then seemed like another bloody mile! Just as my feet welcome the red spring of the track surface two ladies overtake me on the bend,  I kept close behind them though, I could hear the shouts of the supporters and cries of ‘come on Andy/Daddy’, and orders to ‘run faster’ and ‘sprint’. I started the sprint into the straight and swooped past the ladies, rounded the final bend and pushed over the line.

I gently jogged back over to where everyone was standing and handed my medal to Jessica, my time was acceptable considering how I felt, and I was only 20 seconds off of where I wanted to be at 32 minutes 51 seconds. I now wanted to go back and cheer the Vixens to the finish line.

I jogged back through the course and it wasn’t long before I saw Mandy, looking ace and in a brill time. I then saw Sarah, again looking good, I reminded her that not sprinting at the finish is not an option. Next was Nik and only a few yards behind was Caroline, both looking like they had put everything into the race. I peeled off at the track and waited until everyone had crossed the line.

Mandy 45 minutes 21 seconds

Sarah 48 minutes 07 seconds        

Nik 50 minutes 30 seconds

Caroline 50 minutes 35 seconds

PB’s have been broken, Sarah and Caroline smashed their predicted times, Mandy was bang on what she had expected and Nik beat her PB by 7 minutes.

I am so so proud of all of the Vixens and the fantastic time and effort that they have all put in, the total so far and with more to come is £545 before Gift Aid, and I reckon it will be more like £700 once all the money has been collected. What you have all done is amazing and you should all feel thoroughly proud of yourselves. Thank you so much ladies – A x

Vixen Nik Bone Blog

So after feeding my temple with the correct fuel for over a week the day had finally arrived.  I was a little nervous in the morning as I was eating my porridge oats but mostly excited. This was my big chance to show my nearest and dearest and all those generous money sponsors what I had been training for over the past few months.

The gun went off and we slowly started filing out of the stadium, I was feeling good until 3 minutes in when I noticed my shoe lace had come undone arrrghhh, Caroline Tyler and I had made a vow to stick together (ish) as we run a similar speed, so bless her over to the side we went so I could do the tightest double knot ever!!

All ran smoothly for the next two miles then my energy spurt kicked in and off I went at full speed for mile 3. By about mile 4 Caroline had caught me up again and running towards us in the distance was Andy (yeah yeah so you had finished already.. whatever). A reminder flashed through my mind at that point of how if it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t even be at mile 4 or even at the race at all, but more importantly who I was doing it for also hit me, Daniel I hope I made you proud up there, and of course for me.

I am immensely proud of myself for last Sunday as a few months previous I couldn’t even get halfway down Stanley Avenue without stopping!! Tuesdays and Thursdays I ran with Andy patiently nurturing me and encouraging me all the way until BOOM my first 5 mile, without stopping!!!

So there you are, I did it, but I didn’t just ‘do it’ I ran it in my best time yet, shaving 7 minutes off of my best time as well.

As to whether I would do it again??... Yes I think I will. Have I caught the running bug??.. No sadly not!!! My interests just aren’t collecting medals and running faster and faster, but hey I’ve done it, I would do it again and I enjoyed it. Great experience shared with great company, I am a very very happy bunny xx

Vixen Caroline Tyler Blog

On September 15th, I took part in the Victory 5 as part of a team to raise money for Children with Cancer UK. We called ourselves the Victory Vixens (despite having one male in our pack!)

We trained hard throughout the summer but sadly we had 2 fallen vixens who succumbed to injuries along the way, but 5 of us made it to race day.

I was excited before the start, although much of that gave way to fear as I eyed up some serious runners on the track. Once the gun went off, there was no more time for nerves. Before we hit mile 1 we had our first set back in the form of a loose shoe lace. I gallantly waited for my fellow vixen Nikki to address it before we got back in with the pack.  

The mental battle began around mile 3 when we realised there was no water station; the remaining 2 miles was spent pretending we had saliva!  As we reached 3.5 miles, the dismal weather predictions kicked in and we were running straight into high winds. I literally pushed myself on, one leg at a time. A half mile off the finish I caught sight of our illustrious leader Andy who had run back to push us on the last leg, it was a much needed boost. Entering the track for the final circuit I saw my family cheering me on and almost dissolved on the spot.  Rounding the bend for the last 200 metres and I heard the rest of the vixens shouting support, it gave me the last bit of strength I needed.

I’m not sure what was more staggering, the fact that I finished or that I shaved 6 minutes off my personal best!  Amazing feeling.