Portsmouth Lakeside 5k Race 5 28/08/2013

To blog or not to blog, that is the question.

It was only a short local race so I wasn't sure if I should blog about it, what could possibly be interesting about a race that should last less than 20 minutes? As it turned out the race was quite eventful from start to finish.

The Portsmouth Lakeside 5k was the fifth race in the series. It attracts a lot of club runners and out of the 242 entrants Amanda Ware (Victory Vixen) and I were 2 of just 37 competitors unaffiliated with a club. This could only mean one thing, most of these runners are going to be good!

Nursing a tweaky groin I was sceptical about any kind of PB, plus it was an evening race which meant I felt sluggish and tired by the time we went to register at Hilsea Lido. My PB for 5k is an unofficial 19 minutes 25 Seconds (although I did have to stop the Garmin when I stopped at traffic lights, and I am pretty sure I could have hurled a lung up at the end of it) which meant sub 6 minute 20 second miles to beat it, I felt neither spritely enough nor in the right fitness frame of mind to deliver this performance so I settled on the old adage of just enjoying the race and anything under 21 minutes would be nice.

Only two things were really un-organised about the race, and both are only noted with the utmost of tongue planted firmly in cheek. The first was that new registration was met with only one pen to furnish an increasing crowded table of eager singlet wearing runners, with the start time looming, mouth frothing anxiety and twitchy bottomed impatience meant that the holy grail of pens was awaited like a drinks order at a packed bar. The problem finally resolved with the introduction of another pen, never before has a pen been met with a ripple of excited applause. The second un-organised thing was the start, again not the fault of the organisers really but you will understand why shortly.

So all signed up and numbers pinned on we all head to the start, official cheerers on and supporters for the night are Justine Bennett, Jessica Bennett and Nik Bone. It’s a beautiful evening and the sun is still warm but a nice cool breeze will make things comfortable for running. It’s not going to be the most scenic route in the world as it is run around the old IBM building, it will however be flat, hmmm perhaps I might get close to a PB after all.

The start is a packed sweaty affair, the usual odour of deep heat and athlete perspiration fills the air, and talk of ridiculously fast times chatters about. Looking around I try and settle in next to people of the same ilk, they are looking for about 22 minutes so I happily snuggle in the scrum and make sure the watch is ready to go. Mandy gets into the queue behind and we wait for the off.

Countdown from 5 and a Mexican wave of watch bleeps sounds out to an explosive start, this is where maybe slightly better organisation could have ensured there was no problems, the start line had a funneled effect rather than being spread out across the path, this meant that a lot of runners were trying to jostle for position at a very fast pace, this could only mean one thing, trip, fall, crash, luckily it wasn't me but the sound of knee’s hitting floor juddered through my ears. This wasn't solely the organisers fault as this final race in the series had attracted far more than the other races, and more than they had anticipated (probably hence pen-gate). I skipped and swerved past runners and trees until I found enough space to set off properly. It certainly felt fast, I had already decided I was going to go balls out and see where it got me, get a good first mile in and then let the other 2.1 miles tag along at the end.

So the first mile, I am already making noises like I am having some kind of attack, there are two lads in front of me and when I say lads I mean they are about 10 years old, I have a little giggle to myself because they have obviously gone off way to fast and there is no way they can maintain this pace. We weave in and out of buildings running on tarmac and occasional bridge wood, my watch beeps at the first mile and I glance down for my time, 6 minute 54 second mile, gutted, I thought the pace was a lot faster and I now know that it’s impossible to get anywhere near my PB, I glance again to make sure, it’s not 6.54, it’s 5.54! Bloody hell! This is by far the fastest mile I have ever ran and I actually feel ok, just two more miles and I can be set for greatness. The two kids ahead don’t seem to be tiring yet, but I make it my goal to catch up with them soon, surely they can’t run sub 6 minute miles for 5k.

The race is a strange one for me, there is no chatting or encouragement from my fellow runners, the reason is obvious, longer distances, and the people who run at my speed generally have time to have a chat because we are not busting a gut to get to the finish, here however everyone is running to the limit of their fitness. I feel sorry for the people around me who have to listen to the noises leaving my mouth, the only thing I can think of that is similar is when Richard Attenborough is filming from a beach where Walruses are mating, it kind of starts low but then ends high and breathless.

The second mile is coming up, I know I have slowed a little, and I still haven’t caught those bloody kids up yet, I clock the second mile at 6 minutes 23 seconds, I am well happy with that, it means another sub 6.30 mile and I will be close to my PB, spurred on I start to track down the abnormally fast nippers ahead, I have already succumbed to the idea that these kids are bloody good and haven’t gone off too fast at all, the energy and exuberance of youth makes me wish I continued running from their age, instead of giving up in my teens and starting again as a porky 15 stone 34 year old 3 years ago.  

My legs are getting weary now, lack of practice and not being match fit means I am waning a bit, I have a word with my legs (as I often do in races, ‘come on legs’ said repeatedly) and this boosts me for a while, I catch and overtake 2 or 3 people and as I get closer to the finish line, a sign approaches saying only 400 metres to go, just one lap of a track and I am home, I put another spurt on and realise I have gone way too early for a sprint finish, I slow down a bit just as a guy runs past pats my bum and says ‘come on’. Widening my stride I start bounding next to him, my sprint finish is going to be terrible as I have pretty much sprinted the whole race, I keep alongside as we near the finish line, I can see the Pittman/Ware support team ahead, shouting encouragement and commanding orders of a sprint, I persuade one last little bit of effort out of my weary pins and I cross the finish line. I stop my watch and don’t even look down to see the time as I half lie, half collapse on the grass.    

I think I could have stayed that way for a while, in fact I probably would have done if it wasn’t for the fact that I was being dry retched on from above by other finishers. I lift myself up check my time, I didn't look at my last mile as I only had a hundred metres or so to get to the finish line, it came in at 6.24 which made my total time an unofficial 19 minutes 16 seconds (later to updated on the website to 19 minutes 18 seconds), so that was it, I had set two PB’s in one night, fastest mile I have ever ran, and fastest 5k beating my old time by 6 seconds. I jog back to the girls and wait for Mandy, not long after, we spy her in the distance and shout her over the line in a great time of 26 minutes 45 seconds.

For anyone wondering about the nippers in the race, it looks like they finished in times of 17.42 and 18.44 now that is fast!

80^th out of 242 runners, or as I like to call it, the top third. Who knows, there could well be a sub 40 minute 10k lurking in these middle aged bones somewhere after all.

Minley Brutal10 20k 17/08/2013

So I left it a week to blog about this one. It was a knee jerk enter on the day type race. The weather had been nice and the write up sounded fantastic, and I quote

‘These events will make you wish you had never taken up exercise. Each event is exactly 10Km long and uses only natural obstacles such as hills, steep hills and flat hills. There are often water obstacles, mud, uneven ground, and hills.’

The photos on the website showed knee high and waist high water, mud, hills, and the Facebook page showed steps and a bridge to run up and down. All in all it looked like a bloody good challenge. There was 4 different types of event on the day, firstly the dog race, then the 5k, 10k, and the race I entered for 20k.

I had just bought new running shoes, which at the moment are still shiny and glowing majestically in reflective orange and blue, I still have my old Mizuno’s but on inspection of the course and what it entailed thought it best to dig deep into the carrier bags of the porch in search for my mud laden runners, still caked in half of Winchesters countryside from Tough Mudder in March. A few bangs on the front wall and my mud hardened, holey, split, knackered, smelly Mizuno inspire 8’s were ready to traipse around 12.4 miles of grueling terrain.

The event was in Minley, which is just near Camberley, I had a look online and the entry price was reasonable at £21 (or pay on the day £25). Considering the write up this sounded good value for money and another endurance race to tick off of the list.

Upon arrival we were directed to park in a field just next to the start/finish line. Everything was very well marshaled and set out, there was a viewing point not too far away where family and friends could see you at least twice during the race, and all of the expected amenities to fuel any appetites.

Kitted up and race number adorned we set off for the warm up, high knee’s, running on the spot and chasing imaginary piglets meant we were all set for the off. The dog race went first, about 20 or so dogs bounded into the distance as there owners got pulled behind like a tin can on a wedding car, I’m not sure if the dogs would be a help or a hindrance on the course, I kinda fancy having one help me up the hills, it’s the downhill’s I would worry about, I am captain clumsy at the best of times, it takes all my effort to stay on my feet as it is running downhill, let alone behind pulled forward by a hyperactive hound, I would be arse over elbow and in the drink just in time for the photographer to capture the front page photo for next years website.

So speaking of going in the drink, I ask the organiser what the water is like on the course, ‘there are drink stops around, plus some at the start and finish’, ahh not quite what I meant, I mean as an obstacle, I saw on the website chest high water ‘no there are no water obstacles on this course’ .. Great !! (Sarcastic) .. I look down at my weathered runners, my toes give me a friendly wave through the holes, little do they know of the relative comfort they could have been in having new cushioned pillows snugged tight around them, caressing them, as they take me over 12.4 miles of wooded forest and hills, instead they are now about to get battered on a trail run of hard ground surrounded in rock hard, worn material and ferocious air conditioning.

So on to the race, there are a lot of people running for charity and the mood is light and cheery, the 10k and 20k race start at the same time and with an obligatory 5,4,3,2,1 we are off !! The race is two laps of 10k and starts off in a field then runs into woods, the scenery is amazing, zig zagging through the trees, the course is well laid out and there are marshals at every point where you could go wrong, yellow arrows tell you which way to go and are frequent. The ground underfoot is awesome, 99% trail and through the woods it is bouncy due to the pine needles and mulch.

I run much of the first half on my own, the hills are short and sharp but there are no obstacles to speak of, in fact there are no real hills to speak of, nothing that would make you stop and walk a while anyway. The sun is out and it has turned out to be a really hot day. The shade of the woods is lovely and cool and mixes perfectly with the heat of the sun as you break out into openings, the whole event is very picturesque but as yet has offered little challenge.

Around about 8k there is a bridge, a steep hill ensures that you look suitably red and sweaty for the spectators to cheer you on and take photos of you at the top. Running down a hill the other side you run back under the bridge and round, here there are some steps to power up and then towards the spectators again, down the steps and disappear into the tree’s. This was enough to suck the wind out of your sails but the legs were still plenty full of running.

 More uphill zig zag’s and just the last mile left, this consisted of much the same, a few mildly undulating hills and a turn to the finish. This is where I spot my first Fartleker victim, running past the start line with cheers of ‘come on Andy’ and ‘go on Daddy’ in my ears I spot Tough Mudder shirt up ahead. The first 10k was about 51 minutes, not bad for this type of course and on track for a sub 1.45 total. I put my best leg forward and aim for the black and orange shirt about 300 yards ahead. Obviously being a two lap race the second is exactly the same as the first, the only difference is now I have targets to aim for. I chew down on a shot blok and stride on. As I have said the scenery is absolutely beautiful, this is why I run these types of events, being a bit of a nature geek I love running through woods and fields, this is why 90% of my runs are cross country, if this event had been advertised as a trail run I would have been waxing lyrical about it, anyway more of that later.

I catch up with Mr Tough Mudder shirt after about a mile or so, it’s nice because we are running at about the same pace and can have a chat for a bit, I am feeling pretty good so stretch on after another couple of miles or so. I gradually overtake a few more runners and a couple of the dog racers, I bound up the bridge again and spot the photographer who doesn’t quite catch the trademark heel click but gets close enough. I look behind and there is no one catching me up, I look ahead and can’t see anyone either, I am running on my own again but I don’t mind as the finish is nearly here, rounding the corner Jessica comes running towards me to hold my hand for the home straight. Now I DO have a quick look over my shoulder, I am not massively competitive (contrary to popular belief) ‘but’, if there was anyone there behind me Jessica would have just got a high five as I powered past for a sprint finish, luckily there wasn't so I grabbed her little paw and we ran over the finish line together in a time of 1.43.59 and 17^th place out of 80 runners.

Rounding the funnel I was expecting to see someone smiling with a medal and goody bag, no one was there, I turned around to see if I had missed them, but nope nothing!!

Now this is why I waited a week to write this, I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t just being a bling chaser or a t-shirt hunter, I love running, it is definitely my passion, but if I enter a race I would like at least something to show that I have done it. Most of the small/low priced races have some kind of momentum given out, and to be fair the price of admission for this race really did warrant something other than just being a well marshalled trail race. I could have brought a t shirt at the end of the race but I feel this is an unnecessary additional expense. I would understand if the race was as advertised but unfortunately it fell way short of making me ‘wish you had never taken up exercise’  and the hills were not traumatic ‘hills, steep hills and flat hills’  and there was no water obstacles or mud to be seen (ok the mud wasn’t there due to the good weather).

So all in all a pretty disappointing blog, perhaps Minley just wasn't the right location to warrant a race to be called ‘Brutal’, it was a cracking trail run but considering the price and the fact there was no medal/shirt/goody bag, I would suggest just finding your own run in a woods near your house. 

Stansted Slog Trail Half Marathaon 21st July 2013

HEATWAVE!! I am not complaining about the wonderful weather we have had over the last two weeks, I am definitely a sunny runner. I know it’s too hot to talk about PB’s, especially over the longer distances, but I was hoping for a good time in the Stansted Slog half marathon at Stansted House in Rowlands Castle.

I have unfortunately got a bit out of shape, well not so much out of shape as I am not match fit at the moment for any long distances. I have been running a lot with a couple of friends Nikki Bone and Suzie Taylor who are training for the Victory 5 Mile race in September, raising money for Children with Cancer UK and are aptly named the Victory Vixens (more of this story nearer the time). What this has meant is that I have been running shorter distances and have not been sneaking in my usual longer runs. I used to rely on my long runs with the lads on a Sunday morning with SMCD running club (Sunday Morning Church Dodgers) but I haven’t been out with them for a while. All amounting to the fact that anything over 13 miles starts to get a bit painful, so I have used the Stansted Slog to slingshot me back into peak fitness again.

I have been detoxing for the last two weeks, no crap food, no alcohol during the week (maybe 1 or 2 lapses), and stepping up the cardio and interval training. Running in this heat I found has conditioned me quite well, however I am still running a flat half in about 7min 30second miles, which is a good 30 seconds off of my normal pace. Something had to give so I could dedicate more time to serious training and unfortunately it seems like the only solution is Monday night football. I love playing football, and have been part of a team at Roko now for about 11 years, my skill level isn’t the best, I just like to run after people the way dogs like to run after cars, I have a lot of determination just not the skill to go with it, but I have found it helped me with my running as it was like an interval session. Anyway it looks like I am hanging up my boots in favour of 2 hour runs instead, all starting with the slog.

The lead up to the slog was pretty uneventful compared to recent events, no emergency toilet dashes, no tumble dryer tummy, just positive anticipation. I think it’s because I know I can cover the distance, I have run marathons in the same climate and conditions, and on the same sort of course, so I know I have it in my legs, I was just looking to enjoy this one and run it with my friend Michael Cobb. Cobby and I have similar running times and are roughly the same sort of runners, we both like cross country and scenic runs, and we both love hills, this race seems to have it all. It is described as a scenic undulating half marathon in the countryside. I had read the reviews and most people had advised that it had a couple of ferocious hills in it, but they didn’t last too long, and the weather looked just about perfect.

So at 9.30 on Sunday we set off for Stansted House, all essentials packed and lots of water consumed, it’s going to be another scorcher so we need to keep as hydrated as possible, I am really looking forward to this, I am well prepared and fit, and very much looking forward to the ritual beer in the Jolly Taxpayer afterwards, just 13.1 miles between me and that pint.

Numbered up and with 5 minutes to go I realise that I haven’t applied Vaseline. I approach a marshal and she lets me into the room where the bags are stored, I merrily chat away to her as I grab large handfuls of vass and apply liberally to the ‘under the shorts’ and nipple area, as with most runners this is a normal practice, things like this happen at every race, it is no longer strange or weird in the same way that some changing areas/tents are not always segregated and that isn’t weird either, it’s just a running community thing, I mean in what other circumstances would it be quite natural for a 37 year old man to rub handfuls of petroleum jelly into his groin and nipple area in front of a 60 year old lady whilst chatting benignly about the size of the inclines to come?

Lubed up and ready to go I slide (quite literally) over to the start line. Cobby and I decide that we are just out to enjoy this, but if one of us feels like we want to go ahead then to just jog on. Alan Shons (race organiser) gives us some do’s and don’ts of the day, do hydrate, do  take on water at the stops, do enjoy the race, don’t fall down rabbit/badger holes, don’t get lost, don’t carry on if you are suffering from the heat. Looking around everyone is a club runner, there are only a couple of us who are not affiliated to any club, I am wearing my charity Mr Tickle vest and I can see a lot of local clubs have turned up, Portsmouth Joggers  Denmead Striders, Stubbington Green Runners, Fareham Crusaders, so the standard is going to be high. I am however confident, I know that I can cover the distance and the terrain and I am still hopeful of a pretty good time, about 1 hour 50 minutes would be fabulous.

3, 2, 1 Go .... And off we run, up one of the only bits of tarmac on the whole course. Of course we went off to fast, it is in the runner’s bible that every plan and preparation be forgotten in the first mile of any race. We planned to stick to approximately 8minute 30 second miles but the first 3 miles came in at 8.13, 8.26, and 7.45. The scenery was amazing from the start, we are running through grass paths and stone tracks meandering through fields and woodlands, the shade of the tree’s meant that it was cool and breezy, opening up into bare fields where the sun beat down relentlessly. Every single second was a picture perfect postcard of beautiful countryside, this is why I run, no matter what the weather the views are going to be spectacular, not many people who even live in the area have ever ventured up to see what amazing scenery lies on their doorstep, and here I am lapping it up on a spectacular summers day doing the sport I love the most.

The hills were actually ok, as I have said Cobby and I actually like a hill or two so we managed to power up them and then power down the other side, weirdly the down hills seemed to outnumber the up hills, which is always nice, one of my worst ever experiences of a race is when I ran the Isle of Wight half marathon, we seemed to run up every bloody hill on the island but it seemed like I only ran downhill twice. The course was indeed a bit treacherous at times, a lot of the down hills were quite long and steep and had a good splattering of tree roots, dips, holes, and large flint rocks, I still however like to stretch my legs out here and let the recovery process take its toll at speed.

I turned round to chat to Cobby at about mile 5 but he had fallen back a bit, I carried on over styles and through kissing gates and looked back again but couldn’t see him, my legs felt awesome at this point and I was loving the down hills so I decided to push on. I was keeping to pace and picking off people slowly, Mr light blue top came and went, Miss Red top I eventually caught up and overtook, Mr White top took ages to get alongside, but eventually I left him behind, it was just Mr Fluorescent Yellow top that I was fartleking for now.

The course was indeed undulating but the ground underfoot was good, no rain meant no sludge and mud and the paths were hard and firm.  The paths at times were overgrown and a fallen tree at mile 9 had us limbo dancing for a while, beating back brambles and stinging nettles just added to the fun of the race. The best bit of the course beyond doubt was whilst running through some of the woods, it was dark, cool and uphill, I keep my head down mainly when running uphill and use my arms to power me to the top, it eventually levelled out and there was a right turn ahead, following the signposted arrows I turned right. Suddenly the darkness made way to astonishingly bright sun and yellow fields, it was as if someone had pulled a curtain up and you ran into the yellow brick road, a path cut through the field and led downhill, I don’t want to wax lyrical too much about this but I actually had a bit of a euphoric moment, my legs automatically replenished with energy and I caught up with Mr Light Blue top, we chatted a for a while about the course, this was his normal running route, and we both enthused about how lucky we are to have this on our doorstep, he wished me luck and told me to plod on, the only downside to the conversation was that he said something about knowing what was coming up soon, I presumed he meant a hill, but I felt like Captain Awesome so I strode on with purpose.

There was indeed a hill but it was fine, the calves and thighs were doing as they were told, and another gel took the edge off the weariness. I noticed the mile markers were not quite right though, they seemed to be about a couple of hundred yards out to start with, then at mile 12 I passed a marker that said mile 11. I confirmed with a couple of other runners that our Garmin’s seemed to be correct and the course was slightly out. I treated it as only two miles to go so put a bit of a spurt on, Mr Fluorescent Yellow top was now out of sight so I was just racing against the watch. At 13.1 miles my clock told me it was 1.51.30, I was proper chuffed with this, that’s not a bad time for this course, however the finish wasn’t in sight yet, I was on tarmac now so I knew it couldn’t be much further, in the distance I can see a marshal, I looked behind and can see someone catching me, I decide to get on my toes and put everything into the finish, rounding the corner the marshal tells me just 100 yards to go, I can see then Blue inflatable of the finish line and put a sprint on, the timer on the line states 1.54 something as I dip through and claim my medal.

I run back up the road and wait for Cobby to come through, he was about 9 minutes behind me and obligatory sprinted the final few yards.

The results are printed and up on the board within minutes, yet another sign of a well-managed and organised event. I came 15^th out of over one hundred competitors and 8^th in my category, I averaged 8.44 minute miles and finished in a time of 1.54.45, I made the final distance to be 13.61 miles, so it was about half a mile out, however I am not complaining as I could have carried on for another few miles I was enjoying it that much.

Out of all of the 40 or so events I have run this is one of my favourites, it had a little bit everything that I love about running in it, and I would definitely recommend this to anyone local. Now only one more thing left to do …………….. PINT!!  

Portsmouth Sprint Triathlon 16/06/2013

Let me paint a picture, think of this if you will, a gushing river, a hasty torrent acrobatically tumbling over a fall, downwardly spiralling as cascading water crashes off of salt glazed rocks, a bubbling brook swirling with demonic currents, pulling and twisting as the water above smashes through its waves, the abundant turbulence relentless as it consumes and conquers with powerful ferocity, vicious erupting fury rages throughout and nothing is still.

Right that’s how my stomach feels, back flipping for England on the eve of the Portsmouth Triathlon. I have never been this nervous about competing in a race, usually I look forward to an event, but I am completely out of my comfort zone in this one. Don’t get me wrong, I know I can swim, I know I can run and I am pretty sure I haven’t forgotten how to ride a bike, it’s just putting all three together, one after the other that is worrying me.

The day before I try to do two things to put my mind at rest, a little bike ride in the morning, and then to go out and have a whopping big lunch to fuel up on carbs. Both of which turn out to be massive fails.

1      

            1 ) Bike Ride – I decide just to have a little one, just a quick 9 miles or so to get used to the bike and get the legs moving. Cycling down Eastern Road I am doing 3 minute miles quite comfortably which I work out to about 37 minutes or so for the 20k ride. At 4.5 miles I turn around and am immediately greeted by a blanket of wind slapping me in the face, it’s like riding in treacle as I am up and off my saddle for the main part. This does not fill me with confidence, the wind at the sea front is known for being a complete bugger, if it’s like this tomorrow I may have to cry. Confidence now 5/10.

2    

      2) Carb loading - My daughter Jessica accompanies me to Gun wharf for breakfast and lunch, we hit café Nero for coffee and biscuits and then Zizi’s for some pizza and pasta (and a cheeky glass of red). When the food comes out it is huge, my pizza looks like a blanket for a baby, perhaps I shouldn’t have ordered the risotto balls as well. I am slightly concerned about the chillies on the pizza, but there aren’t that many of them so I tuck in …. This turns out to be a mistake of huge proportions.

Fast forward an hour - at first it was just a twinge, a bit like cramp.

Fast forward and hour and two minutes – sweet flying spaghetti monsters, I am doubled up in the downstairs WC breaking ‘the fundamental rule of the downstairs toilet’ in a huge way. Whatever hasn’t agreed with me has handed in its notice and is currently taking gardening leave with immediate effect. I shall say no more about this, but will refer you to the opening paragraph of this blog, and to tell you that after about 3.5 hours I started to feel better. Confidence level 2/10.

       

The morning of the race is here, Colin is picking me up at 7.10am, registration at 8am, and the race starts at 9am. I have checked over everything I need 22 times (thanks OCD) and have placed it neatly, and geometrically pleasingly into my wonderful bright pink plastic box (thanks Jessica). I check the weather outside and it is nice and warm, although a bit overcast.

Colin arrives and we make our way to the sea front with his son Callum (who turns out to be a David Bailey in the making). I feel a lot better when we get there after speaking to a few newbies, and although I know I can’t make assumptions based on appearances I definitely think I can beat at least 4 or 5 people here. There is a noticeable difference between the clientele of runners and triathletes. There are definitely more shapes and sizes here, and the age range varies dramatically, there are carbon bikes sitting next to bikes with baskets on the front, and tall muscular types in expensive wetsuits chatting to older ladies in swimming costumes. There doesn’t seem to be the competitive vibe that usually runs through my races, and it not only relaxes me a bit but also makes me think that I might actually enjoy this.    

Enjoy this, enjoy this, enjoy this, enjoy this, enjoy this, enjoy this ……… the words echo in my head as I enter the Baltic water. We have been given our brief and where to enter and exit the sea, instructions for transitions taken on board and now I am neck deep in the Solent on a Sunday morning freezing my nethers off. A countdown from 10 and we are off, a parade of splashing swimmers in bright yellow swim caps starts a 400 metre dash to the carpeted exit next to the big orange buoy ahead. I start quite well, front crawling my way along, head down and arms swinging, I swim and swim as hard as I can, breathing rhythmically I power on through the waves like a striking figurehead, I sense I am near the end of the first leg and lift my head to peer through foggy goggles, and see that the orange buoy is still about 350 metres away, bugger, I am now knackered, the rest of this swim was made up of 3 strokes, front crawl, breast stroke, and one I made up which was a mixture of the two. Finally the end was near and we all gracefully exited the beach, I say gracefully, the stones really hurt, it was like a group of people trying to run on upturned lego bricks and power plugs. We get ashore and run to the bikes, I try and get my wetsuit off quickly, I soon realise this is impossible, I am tugging at the trouser legs and falling over like when I am drunk and trying to get my skinny jeans off. I sit down and pop my pre talked shoes and socks on, grab my bike and run to the next stage.

Richard (my brother in laws friend) is ahead of me and I make this my focus point, I like a fartlek every now and then and he is much taller and more muscular than me, I should do ok if I can keep up with him. Adrenaline is running so I don’t notice the fact that we are riding into the wind at first, there are 4 laps of 5k, half heading into the wind and half heading out. The turn point means the wind is now behind me so I crank up the gears and pump the legs, people are still generally smiling at this point and there are dotted crowds of people cheering which boosts your spirit along the way. Riding towards the Tenth Hole and the Coffee Cup I can see the next turning point ahead, slowing down I swoop round and am confronted by that bloody wind again. Rich (who I had previously passed) now swoops by me and I try and keep up for a while. This was a crucial stage for me, my thighs were burning and we had another 3 laps to do, keeping up here raised my confidence and gave me a second wind, pushing on I kept my head down and worked my legs. Pushing the pedals smoothly and as fast as I could I ate up the remaining laps and powered through to transition again.

Going from bike to run is much easier, rack the bike and off you go, the only thing is that I have pins and needles in both of my feet and I have got wobbly bike legs. My first few strides felt like I was a galloping giraffe, ungainly lolloping along the seafront. After about 30 seconds the blood returns to my feet and it’s just the 5k run left to do. I am feeling great, I am euphoric in fact, the run is my domain and I know exactly how to pace myself. I swiftly progress through the field, high fiving Colin who is coming the other way before turning round at the half way point and heading for home. Not even a gargantuan stitch in my side can stop these little legs from bouncing their way towards the big blue inflatable finish line. Small cheering crowds and individuals ensures the pace quickens at every step and my smile gets wider, I pump my arms and push my legs hard as the finish looms, I semi sprint over the line and accept my medal and goodie bag.

I am a triathlete!!

I meet up with Colin and Mat, Mat had done the longer swim of 750 metre and started earlier, Colin had finished 3 places in front of me. Rich finished about 4 places behind. My final time is 1.22.51 and I came in at 17^th overall position out of 70 triathletes, and 4^th in my category. 

Would I do it again, absolutely, but the next time maybe a pool event, in fact I have my eye on a longer one in Waterlooville in a couple of weeks. When is this mid-life crisis going to end ha ha.

One last thing to say, the race was on Father Day, this year is the second one without Dad. He was and is my inspiration to do well in all of my events. My weekends as a kid consisted of traveling to and from races and watching him run, sprinting the last few yards with him over the finish line. The smell of deep heat, the cheer of the crowd, even the safety pins for the numbers reminds me of him. Maybe that’s why I take part in these events, it reminds me of those times growing up? We share a love of the sport and an amazing feeling of just taking part. It was never about winning, but just being the best you can. I hope I make you proud, this one’s for you Dad.          

                   

Tough Mudder

Tough Mudder 09th June 2013

Sunday 09^th June is a very significant day, it’s the reason why you are reading this blog, and why I chose this charity to fund-raise for. It’s the anniversary of a little dude that I never knew, yet has been an inspiration for me to keep going when things get tough. No matter how hard you find a race, or just life in general sometimes, it pails into insignificance in comparison to what families have to endure when this disease crashes into their lives. We shouldn't forget the reason why we choose a charity to represent and the story behind it, and it’s been a privilege to run in the bright Mr Men colours for Children with Cancer. Thank you to everyone who has donated so far, the money goes a long way to finding a cure and irradiating this monstrous disease.

Today’s blog is for Daniel.

Butterflies, stomach churns, wobbly legs, dread, and it’s only Thursday. Sunday is approaching fast (as is my paranoia about dying or being fatally wounded in the Tough Mudder field). I had jokingly announced on FaceBook that I had to sign a death waiver before I entered the race, three pages telling me how my next of kin wouldn’t be able to sue anyone should I not make it back to base camp, ha ha ha …ha … erm .. hold up … how tough is this going to be exactly, let’s have a look at what the organisers say ‘Tough Mudder events are hard-core 12 mile long obstacle courses designed by the Special Forces to test your all round strength, stamina, mental grit and camaraderie. Probably the toughest event on the planet’ ….  Soooooo not quite your average Sunday morning run then.

It wasn’t all frequent trips to the toilet though, in the days approaching the event I was getting more and more excited, the night before I prepped my bag, dusted off my old sneaks (which still had the mud on them from Hellrunner) and counted out the essentials. It’s funny how things go hand in hand when you’re organising your kit bag …. Shoes and socks, top and shorts, death waiver and Imodium!!. An early night was needed to so I headed up to bed thinking that the electric shocks won’t be that bad surely and set my alarm for 6am.

Bouncing out of bed I run downstairs like a kid at Christmas, get changed into my kit, eat my jam on toast and wait for the Imodium to kick in. Martyn parks up and we are on our way to pick up the third Mudder Lisa. The sun is poking out behind some clouds so it looks like it’s going to be a nice day, we jump in with Lisa and her Mum Brenda (who is official spectator and photographer extraordinaire for the day) and we set off for Winchester.

When we reach the event we walk down to the base camp, this is pretty impressive, there are numerous food stalls and merchandise stands and various people in fancy dress and war paint. We register and promptly get our number written on our head in permanent marker pen for ‘insurance purposes’. We dump our bags and take a few ‘before’ photo shots before we nervously make our way towards the start line.

The compere guy is amazing, he is like a cross breed of motivational speaker meets sergeant major, he makes no bones about the fact that all of us may not make it round the course, and which obstacles to avoid if you have a weak heart so you don’t die. With a final Hoo-Rah we are off..  I can’t remember all the obstacles and what order they come in but I will pick out the ones that stick in my head and the ones that hurt the most.

Basically hills link up the obstacles, the view is great and the anticipation between each one is amazing, there are a lot of things to climb over and under, plenty of barbed wire, lots of water, flames, ice, heights, jumping, crawling, shed loads of mud, and too much bloody electricity !!

Our first major obstacle was the water jump, it’s about 15 foot into 4 metres of water, which sounds fine, Lisa however is not a strong swimmer, courage plucked and deep breath taken we all jump in, it seems like you are under for ages, and because it is so dirty you have no concept of where the surface is, kicking upwards I emerge like a muddy otter, Lisa bobs up next to me and is swiftly rescued by an inflatable tyre and a lifeguard, we scramble to the side and are up and out for the next one. Monkey bars = more water, I get about half way before I slipped off, of course I could have made it all the way, it was just too slippery ;o)

The next obstacle, and third worst in my opinion, is the Arctic Enema!! Pits of frozen water and ice waiting to freeze any known hanging appendages and shrink them into tiny fun size versions of their former glory. Martyn jumped in first, the very fact that he was unable to breathe or talk was a bit off putting, coupled with the fact that his head had adopted a red glow comparable with that of snow monkey made this seem like a bad idea. I took a deep breath and jumped in, upon impact I immediately made the internationally recognised noise of someone lowering their bum into a very hot bath, ohohohohohohohhohohohohohohoh said out loud with inward and outward breaths, I then have to dive underneath the water and emerge the other side where my team mates are waiting to pull me out. Through the brain freeze Martyn and I quickly establish that that obstacle is definitely worse for men than women!!

The running between each obstacle was awesome, taking in the countryside and hills, we breezed through carrying logs, and getting muddy, piggy backs and fire jumping, we made short work of the buoyant stepping stones and even the other water events. Then came the electric shocks!! Orange wires hanging down like Dutch shoelaces of hell, I have seen this on YouTube and it looks painful, the rumours are that they carry 10,000 volts, and we are on our bellies in 4 inches of water, crawling through like a carpet commando. I get halfway and think this is ok, if I have been hit I haven’t really felt it, I have dodged a few, I think I might be alright …. CHIRST ON A BIKE .. it feels like a donkey has laced up his Dr Martins, taken a run up, and delivered a mule kick from Hades to my ribs, this shizzle is not funny, that bloody hurt, I now make it my mission to get out of there as soon as possible, this of course means not being too fussy about picking my way through the wires as they cackle and laugh whilst bouncing off my body, one final hit to the knee as I climb out sends me on my way.

This event is all about team work, working well as a team we count down the miles, it almost seems a shame that it is all over, there is definitely more left in the tank and only two obstacles left, we can see the base camp and smell the burgers, the Strongbow signs make the last couple of miles even more bearable as the finish line looms up, just Everest and the electric eel run to do.  Everest is a half- pipe 15 foot high that you need to run up and grab the top to pull yourself up, approaching it we decide to all sprint together to see if we can make it, arms pumping and legs bursting I make a run for it, the crowd are cheering and I feel great, I reach the top with room to spare and turn around just in time to see Lisa sliding down on her belly and Martyn’s outstretched hand. We all scramble up and over which means one thing.. more bloody electric shocks.

We watch as the guy in front is floored by the voltage, this isn’t like when you shuffle across the carpet in your slippers, this is the real deal, each hanging wire delivers enough volts to floor a full grown man, let alone a skinny 5ft 7'' version!! We can see the finish line just beyond, we can almost taste the sweet apply cider and smell the victory of taming this course. Looking at each other like condemned soldiers about to go over the top we make a break for it …… CHRIST ON A BIKE …. The donkey is back and he has brought some friends this time, fall-running we make it to the end, high fives and big ten’s breaking out as we cross the finish line in under two hours. Emotional, but not broken as we are coronated with our Tough Mudder orange headbands

Thanks again for to everyone who has donated to this wonderful charity. Every penny counts so if you have a spare £1 please visit the following page. Thank You  

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/AndyPittman

Marwell 10k 12th May 2013

It’s not often you get to run next to wild animals, well it is if you run in Southampton regularly, but Sunday they were really wild at the Marwell Zoo 10k.

The day didn’t start too fantastic as I pulled my car over to throw up on my way to the race, good start, pretty sure my pb has gone out the window, with most of my breakfast alongside. I parked up and waited for the cramps to pass before joining the queue to collect my number. I had already emailed the guy running the race to advice of a name change but this had not been done, so today I will be running as Mr Macarthur, apparently I should be beating his pb today but we will see.

I love the zoo, I like to walk backwards passed the monkeys to confuse them about evolution, today I will be running by them, I don’t even care if one escapes, as long as I can run faster than the guy behind me I should be fine.

Looking around as I always do I am happy that there are a lot of people in fancy dress, seriously if I get beaten by a banana or a meerkat today I will not be happy !!

I meet up with my friend Stephen Keenor, a good sub 40 min 10k runner, I am going to stay on his coat tails to hope for a pb today, I know the course is hilly but that’s what I train for, and seriously how hilly can it be .. stupid question .. one of the marshals advises me it starts on a hill, and it’s pretty much all uphill until 6k, one of the hills lasts for 1.5k, I wish I hadn’t asked.

Heading for the start we inch our way forward towards the front, we don’t want to look too keen but we don’t want to weave in and out of everyone either. Chico the 5 foot meerkat counts us down and we are off. It’s a bit surreal running passed the Zebras and the big cats, and for a moment I am striding through the Hampshire Serengeti. Round a corner and up the hill, round another corner and up another hill, and then its hill after hill. By mile 2 I feel awful, my first mile was 6.19 and the second was about 7 minutes, that’s when the 1.5k hill loomed ahead, the usual rule of thumb in any kind if distance run is ‘if you can’t see the top of the hill, walk’, however this isn’t a distance run so I persuade my legs to keep on going (and persuade my stomach not  to invite Chaka Khan round to play). The hill goes on forever, my watch bleeps that mile at 7.59, this again means no pb for me today, but I can still make it respectable, I am pretty sure I haven’t been overtaken by the banana yet so all is not lost. I set my eyes on a target lady in the distance and stride out to catch her.

At mile 4 I suddenly snap out of it, all it took was a moment of inspiration, I suddenly have clarity, an epiphany eureka moment, snapping me out of a spiralling downward free-fall of self-pity, ITS ALL DOWNHILL FROM HERE !!!! I start to reign in runners ahead of me, passing more and more people as I get my minute miles back into the 6’s again, striding long I hit a good rhythm as the km markers come and go. Rounding a bend back into the zoo a marshal tells me its only 400 to go, I come up to the shoulder or Mr Blue Shirt, all he has to say is ‘come on mate’ and we are in a sprint, I am hell for leather in the lead, the crowd are cheering, the lions are roaring, the trumpeting elephants are heralding my triumphant finish, the .. hold up .. the buggers just run past me .. .. with one final effort I pump my arms hard and catch him up, dipping over the finish line exactly at the same time. My wobbly legs carry me forward as my mouth tries to breathe in the world’s oxygen in one big gasp, a handshake with Mr Light Blue Shirt confirms it was close, I really don’t want to lose 2 sprint finishes in a row. I find Steve who has finished in my pb time of 41.35 (which earns him 31^st place) he wouldn’t like to call it either, to be fair I am just glad I haven’t decorated the pavement.

Throughout the day I keep checking the page for results, nothing is coming up, then all of a sudden it is there.. a time of 42.45, not bad considering the hills and a technicoloured yawn, but best of all .. JOINT 49^th place, well it says 50^th but exactly the same time as Mr Light Blue Shirt, now it’s based on alphabetical order and I was running under someone else’s name, Andy comes pretty high in the alphabet so I am calling it 49^th place out of 960 odd people.

This is a great race, scenic and completely different to anything else, all countryside, hills, next year is a definite entry, I reckon a few of the Vixens should come along too :o)

Hampshire Saucony 10k

Well with no marathons planned for this month I thought I would enter some 10k’s instead. The Hampshire 10k sponsored by Saucony is local to me and most important IT IS FLAT !!!! Not many of my races are flat, or even on tarmac, so this is a welcome change, plus I get to run and still be home in time for lunch.

So Gary Cook and I are pondering our times in the VW on the way to the Moutbatten Centre, I am thinking it’s a great day, the legs feel good (mine I mean, I didn’t feel Gary’s), I am race fit, there could be a PB in this one, briefly forgetting the fact that I spent most of Friday night and all of Saturday night being a wee bit tipsy and eating my own body wait in Quiche and Chinese.

Turning up at the track we are greeted with an array of sports events, there is a meet here on the same day which means only one thing .. competitive runners. We grab our numbers and stand out in the sun trying to spot people who we know we should be able to beat. After a nervous wait we reckon we can spot a few that we should be able to pick off, it always makes me feel better knowing that there is a good chance I won’t come last. I have made the mistake of picking out the older runners before, you know the ones that look like friendly Grandfolk but actually turn out to be made of pure muscle and sinew and invariably overtake you at mile 19 and disappear into the distance, only leaving behind a faint smell of Murray Mints and Golden Virginia.

The course is a good one too, incorporating two laps of the track then out for a lap next to the shoreline back for a half lap of the track again then off for a final lap around the lido, finishing back at the track in the final straight.

So we line up, bloody hell there are some good runners here, watches have been checked, GPS confirmed, I’m just waiting for the gun when a faint whiff of deep heat and Murray Mint distracts me, BANG, whatever wind was in me has escaped quickly, which jet propels me off to my first lap. I need to stick to 6 minute 30 second miles if I am going to hit my PB, first mile 6.32, second 6.42, I speed up as I now need to run faster and make up some time. I can see my fartlek victim about 100 yards in front to help me hit my time, as I reach his shoulder my watch bleeps and tells me I’m not going to hit my PB of 41.35, another poor mile at about 6.49 means the best I can hope for is a sub 42.30, however I have made up my mind I am going to beat this guy in the blue shirt who has stuck on my coat tails since I passed him. Running back onto the track the support is great, more events are still going off and families have lined the track in  the sunshine, the bounce of the rubber makes me stride longer and its off again onto the final lap. I pick off a few people that have gone off to fast and generally feel pretty good, then at mile 5 my stitch (which I have been nursing since mile 2) decides it wants to take over my ribs in a Mount Vesuvius of hurt. Blue shirt guy and white shirt guy whizz pass me here, I try to stay with them and I am pretty sure I whimpered out loud like an Chihuahua shot by a plastic sucker arrow. Around the last bend and onto the bouncy track, I summon up the last remaining bit of energy to muster a sprint finish, it feels like I have run into a stadium and everyone is watching the final event, 100 yards to go and I go past white shirt guy, there’s a shout of ‘come on Andy’ (cheers Craig) at 50 and I am on the shoulder of blue shirt guy, sprint sprint sprint sprint, …and …………. bugger he beat me, by one second.

So finishing in 42.12 wasn’t too bad and 40^th out of 132 runners, it was nice to run a short race for a change, Gary nearly run a PB and was only 17 seconds off.

Next one on Sunday, Marwell 10k, it’s a bit hilly, but as long as I can keep off the Quiche and Chinese I reckon I am in with a shout.