Good year or bad year?

A short summary of my running year 2013.

What started out as one final push for a sub 3 hour marathon, threatening to take over my life during January to April, actually turned out as a year for some new training sessions, less focus on racing so frequently and a quick stab at the iconic Marathon Eryri.

With the sub 3 marathon conquered (see previous blog), it could only ever be described as a good year, but with new challenges along came new targets and some ups and downs along the way, one of the downs being the fact that I have been 'upgraded' to the veteran 40+ category for all races :-(

Firstly, the club I belong to (Aberystwyth AC) has exploded into a bigger operation with first class race promotions, new runner incentives such as 'Couch to 5k', and a website that encourages friendly competition with the Badge Scheme and the Club League...and that's not even mentioning ParkRun!

ParkRun has been the single most important new venture that has made running more accessible and social in Aberystwyth, and in turn has seen many new faces come along and give it a go. Personally I haven't had as much involvement as I'd like, with a young family this year but have helped out when possible. The credit is down to a few key players in the club (they know who they are!). 

As well as the competitive side of things, the training sessions have also grown, especially in the female sector and more and more social runs are springing up all the time which makes it all a bit more communal.

Any spare time I've had this year has been spent getting out the door for a quick hour in between baby's sleep, eat and play patterns although some great Sunday runs have been had with the usual suspects of Ian, Keith & Gancho. With Keith's dad living in Capel Bangor, the usual route has been along the Rheidol Valley with a water stop, arranged by Keith at 5 & 12 or whatever miles, just put your money in the honesty box.

The 'new' lunchtime track sessions have been really effective in tackling some PB's and again it's those usual suspects that have raised the bar. Firstly Ian Evans got the ball rolling early in the year and soon saw the benefits with a PB at Tregaron Half and then some regular sub 18 minute 5k's. Gancho then also brought some of his focus to the track with some killer lunchtime sessions which usually involved towing me around the track, lap after lap with the odd 100 metres of rest if I was lucky. These 'cruise intervals' were tough but really made a difference as I brought my own 5k PB down by around 30 seconds. 

Sprinting to the line to take 3rd place in the Newtown 10k at Latham Park, May 2013.

The lunchtime recovery runs were taken care of by Steve King and myself usually lamenting Shrewsbury Town's lack of form as we trundled gingerly through Dan y Coed woods and along the prom.

My targets for 2013 after the marathon were a bit hazy, but thinking back and after looking at the unnervingly accurate Club Badge tables, a Gold badge had been achievable with a bit of hard work. A sub 18 5k, sub 37 10k and a 1.22 half marathon will have to wait another year as none of the above were quite cracked, but I still managed the Gold Badge standard times at all distances by a hairs breadth. The platinum standards are a bit extreme for me but why not give them a crack :-)

Surprisingly tho, my best race of the year was probably the Cardiff Bay 5 mile just 3 weeks after London where a sub 30 minute time (sub 6 min miles) came as a pleasant surprise and gave a bit of confidence for the year ahead. 

In amongst all of the events that I entered in 2013, my favourite running experience was probably the Snowdon Marathon in October. With no aspirations on time for once, I showed up, hung around the cafe with Dave & Lou just chewing the fat (something I've wanted to do all year but have always been in too much of a rush or simply never at the same races), eased down to the start line and just took off.  This is one of the toughest 26.2's in Europe and the one thing I didn't do enough of over the summer - the long run, came back to bite me in the bum (actually the hips) at Waunfawr at around 22 miles of the race.

I'd actually blown at Rhudd Ddu a tad earlier but had run through it and was back on track with a group that would eventually finish in 3.15. My implosion at the climb (I mean Mountain!), meant a run/walk strategy both up the hill and down it into Llanberis to lose a further 8 minutes, but that foil blanket (my first ever foil blanket) and a warm mug of tea soon made it all worthwhile and I fancy heading back again next year with some more miles in the legs.

The gap between Snowdon and the legendary Aberystwyth 10k was about 6 weeks and this was all focused on the sub 37 minute time with those afore-mentioned intervals. Despite coming close (a PB by 30 seconds of 37.28), it wasn't to be but the knowledge gained on track pacing will hopefully prove useful in future.

Another distance which has/will become a target is the sub hour 10 miler. This will probably be the toughest test of the lot as I am still deficient by around 3 1/2 minutes after Novembers Elan 10 miler. This was a hilly event but I had hoped to be in the 62's and so its back to the drawing board on that one. With no spring marathon in 2014, some genuine focus can now be spent on these shorter distances. Again, the sub 30 at Cardiff 5 has given me a bit of hope here.

Back to Parkrun and this is a cracking early Saturday morning exercise, getting all of the pressure to train on the weekend out of the way early doors. I've worked out that a more satisfying weekend is to be had in general if the Parkrun is done.. Edging closer to to a sub 18, I've hit 18.06 on two occasions, in September & October and so I'm hopeful of finding those 7 seconds from somewhere soon, surely just losing a couple of pounds will do it?!

Cardiff Half Marathon

The day started the night before. "Use boiled water to warm the flask" the other half recommended as I planned to take porridge on the 5.30am drive to Cardiff for the Cardiff Half Marathon.

An offer to stay over for the night had fallen through and so the long commute it was to be on a day when Aber AC were stretched to the limit with members racing in the Twin Peaks local race, the Chester Marathon and at Cardiff.

An alleged 100 townsfolk had headed to the capital with at least four of those from the club to make up the 19,000 total who were taking to the line.

My prep had been pretty good. Weeks of pretty poor Snowdon Marathon training had inadvertently left me in good shape for a half, or so I thought. Plenty of 6-8 mile tempos and lots of long track intervals would surely give a PB?

Back to the flask, and the porridge was gloopily added and bags were packed, out the door and on the road by 5.40 for a 9am start time. Timing meant a roadside stop was needed to have breakfast and upon pouring it into the bowl, a jet of watery porridge spewed out, all over everything and instantly deeming the car in need of a valet. I'd forgotten to poor the water out first and ended up having a very small portion, hastily topped up with a banana and energy drink...

Second faux pas of the day was the lack of Vaseline in my race bag. I rarely use it any longer as the body seems to have hardened to general running without the need, but longer runs still require a quick dose on the nipples and groin ;-)   I didn't like the thought of running without and so asked the nearest other guy (why did I ask a bloke?!) in the 'car park' and was instantly told 'i ain't got none', in a slightly to nervous voice. The same thing happened twice and in the end i was resigned to running 'dry'.

Enough of layby's and car parks, the race was much bigger than I had presumed with 19,000 starters, the second biggest half in the UK. I was under the impression it would be a slightly bigger version of Tregaron Half!

The route to the start was a bit clumsy and bottle-necked via the castle grounds, but the rest was spot on with plenty of feed zones, good crowds and atmosphere. It just seemed so weird to have such a big race so close to home, I don't think I fully took in this atmosphere as the area was already so well known to me.

My aim was to run sensibly, and try for 6.20 minute mileing pace as an average. This would be around 20 seconds slower per mile than my Cardiff 5 mile pace and 15 seconds slower than my 10k PB but a big 29 seconds faster than marathon pace. It would be a challenge and that's what it turned out to be.

My track work meant the first few miles were comfortable at the race pace, even a tad faster but the lack of longer training miles meant miles 5-9 were 'a bit harder'. Nevertheless the pace was still good and it was at around 9.5 that the feeling worsened. Even then, I managed a 6.30 and so was still fully on target. Then came the drag up to the top end of Roath lake. This took its toll and what was left in the legs was left on the road. At the turn for home at around 11.5, I had to shorten the strides and fall back 30 odd seconds per mile, so it wouldn't be a total breakdown.

The guy who physically spread his arms out to stop his colleagues going to fast at the start flew past me at 12.5 miles, he was not a day younger than 60 and he had a female veteran in tow - there's always someone more clever....

The finish came eventually, a great long and wide road with big crowds and an orderly finish protocol - finish, water, medal, t-shirt, recovery drink, goodie bag, expo, exit.

My time was just over one minute slower than my 'best case scenario' (1.24.13) and so I'm pretty satisfied as it was a PB by over two minutes, without the aid of enough porridge or any Vaseline whatsoever!

London 2013 - Project Sub 3 Hour (Mk IV)

Last year's 3.00.02 at Manchester had been chipping away at me ever since I came across the line in Trafford Park and so when I found out that i was eligible for a 'good for age' place at London 2013, there was only one thing for it!

After an injury free stint since Christmas, I actually arrived on the start line with more miles under the belt than any of the previous three other marathon campaigns that I'd done, albeit with a side issue of a newly born baby to look after and so sleep deprivation had been a small factor! They had always seen weeks of 15's and 20 miles thrown in among the more enthusiastic weeks which topped out at 35 miles. I once read on a running forum that a sub 3 hour marathon time was impossible on a training plan of less than 35 miles per week. I nearly overturned that claim last year, failing by 3 seconds but I was determined to try again, and so edged the mileage up to between 30 & 40 miles per week, with the odd 50 added in for painful measure this time.

Three 20 mile runs and an uber-long 18 miler off road would surely see me right this time? With three weeks to go, my enthusiasm for same old, same old began to wain and after a slow Monday 20, 2 weeks and 6 days out, i began to slowly wind down for one reason or another (excuses were increasingly easier to find).
Panic set in, surely I would be too rested? Some said yes, other more seasoned opinions said no! Should I do an 8 mile tempo on the Sunday before the race? Of course I didn't, but the thought was there..

So leading up to race day, i was ultra fresh and bouncy, yes, bouncy. The joints, cartilages and muscles which had all been hammered down and compressed like processed ham since Christmas began to open back up and almost sprout, just like shrubs in the Spring. This was also down to a course of Glucosamine tablets, IT band stretching, yoga, a couple of sports massages and just the odd recovery drink tipple after a long run.

I'd also nominated the Welsh Air Ambulance Service as a charity to raise money for and at the time of writing, I have around £1700 to hand over to them!

Race day started with me trying to find Blackfriars Station to no avail, and a subsequent 2 mile walk from row Z to the very front of the start pens through Greenwich Park among the zillions of fun runners. I'd gotten off at Greenwich thinking it wouldn't be that far to go. This resulted in my 'buffer' safety hour being put to annoying energy wasting use, also trying to find my kit drop-off lorry (unsuccessfully) and eventually arriving at the good-for-age / secretly awkward to find / pain in the a*se' tent with only 25 minutes to go. If only I could afford a PA or even a Butler!

A quick change and clamber to the correct kit lorry and I was ready, joining the others around twenty rows back at the start of the race in the red zone. A 30 second silence was given to honour the bombing victims of the previous week's Boston marathon and everyone of the 35,000 odd competitors followed this to a tee.

As the gun went off it was game on. The brand new yellow race socks were on, the spongy, relatively new Aber AC blue trainers were on, 4 gels in the pocket and a fully functioning Garmin unit strapped to the wrist.

This was in addition to two main pasta courses from the previous evening at the Ramada Hotel (sounds extravagant, but was actually cheaper than the thieves at Travelodge'), plus as much porridge as was comfortable that morning. I'd even re-read some great advice from the previous months Runners World magazine and also scanned over some critical marathon race guidelines from some old training books and did some manual split time rehearsals, rather like I was an actor studying lines! Nothing was left to chance, apart from those dodgy arrival directions.

The first 10 miles were quite frankly boring. I was in a menacing mood and should probably apologise to thousands of very pleasant supporters on the race route who smiled, cheered and held hands out for high fives that were not returned. I was here to do a job, and ran like an i-robot.

Those miles were knocked out at a few seconds below my average target pace of 6.52. Without the actual data from a sports lab, my experience led me to believe that my 'lactate threshold', the point at which your muscles start creating lactic acid, was at around 6.40-6.45 pace and so i was on a very thin line. If I strayed over this 'red line', my body would be unable to uphold this pace for 3 hours. Even if I only ran a few early miles at this pace, there would be no return, only pain and disappointment.

Basically I was playing with fire in going for a sub 3 time. Whilst knowing it was possible, it was really going to be touch and go, with a high risk of blowing up and hitting the wall, it was only barely possible but I love a good challenge, and my Manchester time had given me hope.

The half way point would be the first real indicator and despite being closely followed by a leprechaun, i went through in 1.29.11. Maybe a bit slow as I only had 49 seconds in the bag to waste the second half? As it happened, another benchmark would be my 2011 failure point, the 15 mile marker at Westferry Tunnel. This is where my hamstrings failed me last time and so as I sailed through still feeling like it was a Sunday stroll, I started to at least think that maybe I'd get to 20 with enough in the tank.

It was at this point that my loose tracking of the 2.59 pacer started to become a factor. Up until now, I decided to run my own race, with it just so happening that he passed me at about 5 miles, and then I passed him back at around 17. His pace seemed slow, and at the same point, my trusty Garmin finally died on me! The old steed had seen better days and simply couldn't cope with the Canary Wharf sky scrapers, plus the thousands of other devices probably all out to attract the same satellite like mating birds on an Attenborough documentary.

This was awkward as had i been able to check my pace against the slowing pacer, I would have known that he was suffering. My instinct told me that anyway. Finally benefiting from a few previous marathons at this pace I guess, I knew that I had to speed up and get to 20 miles in around 2.16, leaving a final 10k of just under 44 minutes. Easy? Not easy but certainly doable. You just have to love the marathon for all the races within races!

I got to 20 in 2.16, i think it was a tad under, and two scousers behind me immediately announced 2 hours 57 minutes for them and everyone else around them. That may have been a tad optimistic, but it was good to hear those positive vibes. I'd not felt this good at 20 before, but a new 2.59 pace man had taken over the reigns of his predecessor and seemed to be rapidly gaining speed up ahead to make up for what I could only assume to be a less than satisfactory job by our previous friend.

This set a few alarm bells ringing as I thought that current pace seemed good enough. I decided to let him go, but keep him within a minute, just in case.

There were now casualties all around, wobbler's and stretchers who had ground to a halt yet I still felt good in the Embankment tunnel. When I say good, I mean awful, but still able to run at 6.52 pace. It was certainly uncomfortable and a few early signs of cramp set in. I was determined to get to 24 miles on target and then surely, anyone can run 2.2 miles, can't they?

A bit too similar to a Jim'll Fix It badge for my liking!

The 24 mile flag finally appeared and it was here that those last three mile doubts of 'who cares if I'm over 3 hours' went away. I started to claw Mr 2.59 back and as Westminster approached, the crowd roars just pulled you along. Turning right to head from Big Ben towards the Mall and we hit 25. 26 popped up in no time. Just 0.2 miles to go and the clock saying 2.57..i could maybe even walk it in 3 minutes!

A quick right hander at Buckingham Palace and the line appeared with 2.59 on the clock. With chip adjustment, that turned into a 2.58.55 which suited just fine. Any elation at the end? Not as much as I thought! No silly victory salute, no tears and barely a raised smile, just a content feeling and later, a cheeky grin that a two year goal had finally been achieved.

Everything went to plan, I even managed to 'consume' my gels, on time and without most of them ending up on my hands or the inside of my shorts :-/ I kept cool by splashing copious bottles of water over my head at the feed zones and I'm also thinking about taking up shares in Vaseline.

I have no thoughts or plans to try and improve on this time. That would take a lot more training and too much time. 50 miles a week? No thanks!

Next stop, a few weeks of nothing inparticular and later the Lake Vyrnwy half marathon and maybe some Duathlons after that. Ah damn, just remembered, I've entered Snowdon ;-)

Tregaron Half Marathon

A full 48 hours after finishing this race and I'm still aching. No it's not the usual DOMS muscular pain, as the recent training stint had prepared me for the distance & effort, its more a dull ache that shouts of joint pain, creaking kneecaps and flu like aches without the actual fever!

I've put it down to a pretty busy program of training recently which meant arriving at the start line already a tad fatigued, but in a healthy, training related way. Unfortunately the unforgiving Tregaron course really doesn't take any prisoners with its gradual hill start, followed by some real stingers both up and downhill, followed by the longest straight this side of Utah which cracks any lingering mental strength any of the competitors had remaining.

I woke up on Monday really feeling it yet still managed a recovery 'run' which really brought home how incapacitated i felt. So with this run not really helping matters, I took to the internet to help me gain some faster recovery techniques - Yoga!

A quick search for 'Yoga for Tregaron victims' brought up some helpful videos which required 15 minutes of copying a very flexible lady who seemed to be in a far sunnier place than I was. Anyhow, the workout actually had an effect and after the session, I was able to twist and turn, then walk with a far less achy body.

I'll try another session tonight to keep the recovery ball rolling.

As for the race, well I was around 20 seconds slower than last year (see previous blog post). The first non-progressive race run I've had in a fair while although considering the build up, conditions and physical state before hand, I'll take that as an ok run.

As per usual, I went off too fast at 6 min miling pace, pulled back after mile one to 6.30's and then tried to hold this for what would have been a tidy sub 1.25 run.

Warning signs sparked up at mile 3 as a 6.45 turned into another 6.45 which I initially put down to the hilly first few miles and the headwind. Surely things would improve on the homeward run-in?

The hips and back were feeling heavy by mile 7 and although i was still just about on target, it felt a real struggle and i was losing form. Ian Evans then came up from behind and took my scalp as he flew past. I initially held on to his coat tails but upon hitting the 'bog', he sped away. I later learned that this was an attack and looking back, that makes me feel a little better. I thought I had hit a wall at the time!

As Ian bridged to the guys in 6th & 7th place up ahead, my new target was to keep at 6.30's to try and maintain a PB pace and at the same time, keep some nifty chasers at bay.

As I lost the will to live after 3 miles of straight line old railway track, I was gaining a tad on a lad up front, but then I thought saw Ian Evans running back towards me...I soon realised that I was hallucinating. I'm sure they used Cors Caron in the 1960's Spaghetti Westerns?

With two miles to go, the course takes you back onto the road and I've never been so glad to see some tarmac. The hips were rioting at this point, not a sensation I've had to deal with previously, hence the Yoga, but I somehow held on to hold pace and sneak in under 1.27. Not ideal but two months of sleepless nights with the baby and some  weeks of heavy(ish) training miles might well be the reason for that so I'm not too worried about the  lack of progress just yet. Then again it could just be plain old age??

Aber 10k - New socks, the baby and a PB

After a poor Chester Marathon in October which seemed to take weeks to recover from (4 in fact), I decided to buy some new go-faster yellow race socks and target December's Aber 10k as a potential PB race, which left around 6 weeks to train for.

Steve drew up a plan which transformed our lunchtime bimbles into some sensible tempo sessions (that's what he called them). To me they were sessions from the depths of hell. 30 minutes at Steve's annoyingly fast pace which really requires complete concentration and vasts amounts of bravery to keep going to the end!

Burgess came along to sample the pain one day and like me, he was crying after 15 minutes, begging inside for Steve to slow up. Fact of the matter was that cake and complacency had gotten the better of me & Dan for weeks whilst Steve was on a fasttrack to some good form, cruelly taken from him in the end by an ill timed virus.

The AC Tuesday night speed sessions helped to hammer some form back into the legs and the Parkrun showed that my race pace was going the right way. Some sessions reminded me that the body was not always able to perform well and they were a right struggle!

2 weeks to go and the crucial session that would determine if my target time of a sub 38 was possible, 6 x 1 mile efforts on the track, all at target race pace with minimal (1 lap) recovery between reps. Each lap needed to be at a max pace of 6.07 and this was achieved with some faster reps for the last couple, despite the best efforts of the Uni football team who's target practice seemed to be me rather than the goal that Monday evening..

Some final few hill sessions helped top things off but then a big spanner in the works came along - the birth of a baby daughter, a week early! Whilst this was obviously priority number one, i was secretly hoping to sneak the Aber 10k in just prior to the original birth date.

As it happened, it was a false alarm as the Mrs, who was taken in a week and a half early was not operated on after all on the saturday and was allowed home..at 1pm on Sunday...30 minutes before the start of the Aber 10k!!
To be fair to her, she acknowedged my previous plan regarding the race and so I had packed a race bag that morning to come to hospital with, should she be discharged that morning. Her sign off took a little longer than anticipated (eventually 2pm), so I had to dash down at midday to register, return to Bronglais to check on things, then back down to the car outside at 1.10 to change, back up to the ward to hand the keys back to her which involved running through the hospital corridors in my Aber AC kit(!), back out, forgetting my Garmin, so back up to the ward to even more strange looks from staff & patients, then finally a quick warm up down Queens Road and to the start.

The start of the Aber 10k was biblical in terms of the lashing rain, as we all remember and so I dashed to a relatives house on the Buarth with 4 mins to go, dropped off my warm up clothing in their shrubbery, back down to cower in a (dry) bush by the tax offices (a guy from Brecon AC who turned out to be the eventual winner had the same idea) and onto the start line with a minute or so to spare - the perfect warm up?

With no time to think about tactics, i subconsciously defaulted back to the plan from the track session, run 6 x 1 miles in 6.07 but this time without any recovery in between efforts!

Mile 1 went perfectly, I strolled off the start in row 7 or 8, held up a little by the masses of other runners who bolted from the gun but who then slowed up 100 metres down the avenue. This worked in my favour as it stopped me doing the usual fastish start and causing early onset of lactic acid in the muscles, usually culminating in a disappointing performance.

Mile two was, after talking to other runners, the toughest of the race. A stiff headwind up Queens Road and up to the Consti Railway meant a split of 6.13, and I felt it too. 'Disaster' I decided whilst running down the ramp onto the prom as the wind swirled about. Upon hitting the prom I realised that the wind was actually a side-tail and we were cruising. The next couple of miles were knocked out in 6.01 and so it was back to being game on.

At this point I was hurting, but in a good way as only other runners will understand. The usual pain was there but with no decrease in pace. My effort had been timed well and the muscles were operating at full efficiency. In other words there was a gap in the clouds, a tiny glint of hope, a small window of opportunity to grab that sub 38 that seemed impossible only a few weeks earlier. I decided to ignore the Garmin from here on in (2.2 miles to go) as I knew i could maintain the pace and didn't want to know if i was waining to be perfectly honest.

The first 'bang' came rather appropriately by the doctors surgery, but with Ian and Norman just up ahead, they acted as a carrot and with a quick adjustment to my stride, I fixed the problem and actually sped up!

Mile 5 ended up at 6.03 and so around Blaendolau Fields I caught a few runners which made a nice change from previous editions of the race where I'd been the one spluttering. Mile 6 was flipping tough but what can you do?  A PB is on a plate, the napkin is around the neck and the salt & vinegar are perfectly placed for you to tuck in and enjoy!

I guess any other type of session would have meant collapsing in the nearest ditch. I am not strong willed usually, only when really really pushed, and even then its a total and painful inconvenience, but with Steve and Burgess both marshalling at the level crossing and within the last km (it's always good to know the course!), I managed to keep it together. 'Core stability' which seems to be a buzzword stressed upon more and more these days, was out the window at this point. I became that flapping runner from a few years back when I first joined the Aber AC. My back wobbled side to side with each stride, the head rocked, and arms started jiving as i lauched into a final sprint. This must have looked more like someone running with some heavy shopping, only the shopping had been photoshopped out....

In mild payback for the 3.00.02 at Manchester Marathon, the clock came into focus at 37.51 and I only had yards to go. I came over the line in 37.56, so take that mr timing clock demon. I would have been seriously annoyed at 38.01!

So for me, it was a PB and showed that with a bit of focus in training, and a lot of determination on race day, plus the minor issue of a baby daughter potentially being born that morning, any goal is possible!

Chester Marathon - 7th October 2012

Well, they say you have to take the rough with the smooth and so here's my report on my run in the Chester Marathon which didn't quite go to plan on the day.

Depite this, I have to say that of the three marathons that I have done, this was the best in terms of atmosphere and location. OK, they were lucky with the weather compared to Manchester but it's maybe because I enjoy smaller events that I really thought that this is a must do race for any budding marathon runner from my neck of the woods.

I like running on rural roads and after a quick lap of the city centre, the Chester marathon quickly headed west towards Wales on some fantasticly fast flat B roads that were perfect for a PB attempt.

I counted two clips of note on the course, but they were nothing compared to what we are used to back in Ceredigion!

That is about as good a picture I can paint of the day from my perspective. I'd kidded myself that a sub 3 hour run was possible on a diet of 20-25 mile weeks all through September due to work commitments. Although some of these weekly totals did include a full on 20 mile run, I had not managed the tough 'tempo' sessions that seem so crucial to conditioning yourself these days...

The race started right inside the Chester racecourse, and parking was easy. The only hassle was a walk across wet grass to get to the toilets / start area meaning wet feet before we'd begun...
For the first half kilo, we immitated racehorses as we ran the course before hitting tarmac and heading out on the course. The locals were out in force but it wasn't overkill like London or even Manchester where the crowds were overwhelming in comparison.

Each village had a good turnout and the RAF cadets were great with the feedstops. There was a nice amount of 'quiet time' in between each village where you could settle into your pace without distractions too.

I started near the front and clubmate Gancho found me on the start line. He was aiming for his own PB and we shook hands and wished each other well. His intended schedule was 20 minutes faster than mine so suffice to say I didn't see him again til the finish!

My plan was to knock out some 6.40 miles until half distance and then try and hold 6.50-7 min miles all the way to the finish...easy? Sure!

The racing was fast for the first few miles, so much so that i was being passed by runner after runner despite running at 6.25-6.35 pace myself! This was alarming and I didn't get sucked into any battles and so settled into my own pace. I hit 10 miles in 1.05 which was a tad fast and started thinking of delusions of grandeur about possible finishing times.
The first chink in the armour came at the 12 mile feed. I grabbed a bottle and turned 90 degrees right onto a false flat. It was like being hit by a traction engine! The effort required to maintain pace on this road seemed double. I trudged on and hit 13.1 miles in 1.27, still only 1 minute off Half Marathon PB pace.

We turned again onto a more forgiving road and it was back to being game on. By now I was knocking out 6.52 pace but it was feeling like too much effort. I'd heard nightmare marathon tales from lots of people over the years but had yet to experience one myself. That was about to change.

At 15 miles i knew i had a problem. My hips, thighs, groin and hamstrings were tightening, to a point that it affected my stride. I guess you call this being 'out of condition' or 'gone too fast at the start' or simply 'hit by the wall??'.

I held 7.00 - 7.10 until mile 19 and so was still on for a sub 3 but then the legs tightened more and the white flag was raised. I started to walk as I simply couldn't run! Luckliy it was a rural section as throngs overtook me and I managed a trot up to the next feed. Mile 20 & 21 were the worst - 11 minute miles!

After then we hit some villages and the crowd helped pick me up to a shuffle and I started some 10 minute miles, whehey!

Running back into Chester and the scenary and weather were perfect and despite my obvious pain, I still managed to take it all in.

I came over the long awaited line in 3hours 22 minutes which ain't so bad, a shake of hands from the organisers and also from Gancho who had waited around for me. We headed for a sit down in the huge food hall they had erected and chewed the fat about what had just happened. He'd done 2.47 which was a great time, but he also had an eye on a faster time.

Maybe we'll be back next year, hopefully with a few more Aber AC runners :-)

Flirting with a sub 3

My marathon day experience started at pre-dawn as I elected to remain in Aberystwyth rather than do the usual pan-weekend stay when it comes to the bigger events. Aber AC's annual dinner was on the saturday evening and after a fair few years of making up the numbers, I'd actually won an award this time around and so felt obliged to show my face.

Mr Burgess was also in the hunt for a trail league award and so despite his early Sunday morning start at the Harlech triathlon, he also threw the preperation book out of the window and made his way to the Black Lion for what was a great nights entertainment.

Despite the clubs best efforts to practically force alcohol down our throats, with a champagne reception followed by two precariously placed bottles of red within easy reach of our cutlery, the first time in memory that free grog had been on the menu, we lamented in our misfortune and temporarily toyed with the idea of one or two not being 'that bad' but ended up heading to the bar for rounds of lemonade and orange juice.

The evening finished up with an award as club male runner of the year, my first male award of 2012 after my dubious First Female Vet >35 win at the Rhayader 5k back in June, and so this one was more gladly received. Having stepped up my training since London, a few PB's came my way in some tough races. I thoroughly enjoyed the year and to win an award which was voted for by club members was truly unexpected and overwhelming.

After the festivities I made an early exit and was in bed by 11 for a 4.45 wake up call and on the road by 5, flask of microwaved porridge in hand.

Chester Services car park was utilized to eat/drink the aforementioned oats and it was on to Old Trafford by 7.45 for the 9am start at Longford Park.

Some dodgy characters were collecting £6 at a small car park that I had driven into. By the time I had changed and was ready to pay, they had disappeared with their takings from most of the other runners.... I half expected a clamp on my return but it was raining hard, i was getting late and decided to risk it.

A long walk to the start, and there was little signage to the main arena. All i could find were some portaloos, but given a choice, they were probably the most important thing to find at that point in time. I couldn't quite remember the entire array at the previous nights Aber AC buffet, but i wished it well in its new home in the outskirts of Manchester....

The weather, like everywhere that weekend, was awful. I'd packed well and was warm enough when the gun went off, keeping a woolly hat on for the first few miles. I'd decided to run in the usual summer outfit but the clouds were ominous. It was almost May though, surely the temperature would hold up?

As sole Aber AC competitor (to my knowledge) there was little support compared to the previous years London Marathon, although a spattering of Welsh flags were a welcome sight. My plan was to run at 6.45 pace for the first half and then 'see how it went'.

I soon stumbled across a gang of 3 hour pacers and decided to hang with them. Soon enough we'd done 5 miles through towns I'd never been to before, in fact I'd never really been to Manchester before so it was all new. There was a hairpin bend, and counting back, we were pretty high up in the standings.

The weather was cool, almost cold and it was raining. The brass bands played as we went through suburb after suburb. Fair play to them, they must have been colder than us! In fact, i was getting pretty cold and couldnt believe the amount of volunteers at the feed stops, handing our water sacks, gels and Gatorade every three miles or so.

I utilized their services every time due to the conditions and remained in a good state. Our little group formed a type of non--verbal commaradery, sharing water and forming cycling type echelons in the hedgerow-less rural plains that we came across from time to time, to help against the cruel sidewinds.

Throw in some off-road and barely 'C' road standard roads and this was no easy standard marathon, thanks to the weather.

We turned into a block headwind at around 16 miles after posting a 1.27 first half. Still feeling good, we visibly slowed but were still 7 minute miling and so the target time was still well within grasp.

The training seemed to have paid off. In London I was flagging at 17 miles, we were now at 19 and i was still keeping pace. 20, 21,22 and despite the odd 'weird' low sugar feeling, i shortened my stride to combat fatigue, and still managed to keep a decent pace. I decided that the 3 hour pacer guy, the only one remaining must be on the ball and so I dispensed with the one thing that i religiously follow during almost every other race i do, my clock watching calculation of splits.

I still gave it the odd glance but this wasted energy and I was wasted myself and so I kept Mr 3 hour in sight and at 25 miles I glanced down at a 2.51. Easy I thought, but this setting was not showing seconds. just minutes. 2.51 soon became 2.52 and I had 8 minutes to do 1.2 miles....

After being ahead of pace all race, i now found myself border line. I still trusted Mr 3 hour but the weather had taken its toll, there were refugees everywhere but i still felt ok (ish).

The odd feeling of iminent collapse was replaced with new found determination but the last mile was a series of twisted disable access ramps and underpasses. The finish never came, just crowds and distant PA announcements. I scanned the Garmin, 2.59....
I passed Mr 3 hour at a sprint as the gantry came into view. With no glasses on I could see the big clock, 2.59.XX, 2.59.XY, 3.00.00, 30.00.01   damn damn, no, what about chip time? Keep running...

Final time 3.00.10. I couldn't beleive it and reflected on the legendary footage of Laurent Fignon losing the 1989 Tour de France on the Champs Elyses by 8 seconds in a final time trial show down whilst in the yellow jersey.

The chip time came through eventually...3.00.02. What a disaster coupled with a feeling of contentment at taking over 12 minutes off my PB.

Only one thing for it, I'm going to have to go again, this time looking after my own pace in the last few miles!!!