I don’t want to keep bloody banging on about it, because it’s shit and boring and I want to move on, but a few months ago I went through one of those life altering, perspective shifting break ups. (I’ve written about it already here and here.)
The problem is, I can’t seem to get over it, and it’s starting to annoy me. Over the last few weeks, I seem to have gone backwards on the ‘getting over it’ scale. It’s partly because I started seeing someone new (which, it turns out, I am absolutely not ready for, and it has consequently ended) and partly because I’m missing a big goal and some focus, so my thoughts are drifting off elsewhere. Unfortunately that place is back into the past.
To start with I thought I might rectify the problem with the obvious. The first few months after my break up were so (relatively) bearable as I let myself be completely and totally consumed with training for the Paris marathon. Maybe that’s what I need to do again, I thought. I’ll sign up for an autumn marathon. But as much as I would love to go back to Berlin in September, I don’t think repetition is the way forward.
I’ve already decided on a rather large and scary nutrition goal, which I’ll share more on next week. But for now, I’m feeling a little bit lost when it comes to my fitness life. I’m running WOTN in Amsterdam next weekend which I’m really looking forward to, but I have already decided not to run Run Hackney two weeks later. I am just not feeling in the right frame of mind to train for and run a half marathon. In fact, I haven’t run in two weeks. Two weeks is nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it’s probably been a good six or seven months since I’ve gone that long. I was loving running at the beginning of May, but then my knee decided to get angry with me and I haven’t run since.
So I’m properly on a break from boys and now running has decided we need some time off too. I don’t have a race in the calendar until September and the last of my four planned European run adventures will soon be here and gone. Now what the heck do I do?!
Everyone has races where time is important. We all have times where we train hard for a race, and are desperate to beat a PB or slip under an illusive but ultimately arbitrary milestone. And everyone has races where time could not matter less. This was one of those races. There were parts of it I really didn’t enjoy, like the heat (remember that one really hot Sunday we had a couple of weeks ago?!), the hills, running over sand, loose gravel and lumpy grass, but ultimately, none of that matters. I ran this race alongside my Dad and my brother, so I’m going to let them tell you how it went…
I awoke early on the morning of the race with a mixture of feelings ranging from trepidation to concern with a very small amount of excitement, bordering on anticipation. Looking out of the window, the sun was already shining brightly. As forecast, it was going to be a nice, very warm day. Just what we needed!
Arriving at the start, it was noticeable that a large percentage of the participants were members of running clubs but I found it somewhat reassuring to note that there were a few competitors who actually appeared to be older than me. Or was that just wishful thinking resulting from unrealistic optimism?
The training in the preceding weeks had not gone smoothly. A number of rest periods were needed to enable me to recover from calf injuries and, as a result, less than a third of the planned miles had been covered. It had become obvious that my warming-up routine was somewhat lacking, i.e. no stretching and very little in the way of warming-up before running. Over the last three weeks of the training, this had been rectified and, as a result, I had remained injury-free.
We had thought about the tactics for the race and had come to the conclusion that discipline was required from the very beginning. It was important not to start too quickly. As we set off, I glanced at my brand new Garmin watch and pressed the button. We were away. I would look at that watch at least 500 times during the race (or so it seemed). As we set off, a quick look over the shoulder revealed a few runners behind us, but not many. It dawned on me that I was actually running with my son and daughter.
It soon became evident that, due to the ever-increasing temperature, our planned times per mile would not be achieved. Thankfully, there were watering stations every two miles or so and full use was made of these. A number of runners were feeling the effects of the heat at a fairly early stage. They were walking, possibly having started too quickly. The route took us along the coastal path and then through the centre of Wells which was rather crowded. We had planned to run together but agreed that if any of us felt able to go quicker, they should do so. Over the last three miles, it was obvious that Marcus had more fuel in the tank and he soon disappeared into the distance. Melissa soldiered on with great determination despite suffering from the heat and running with an injured knee.
After about 10.5 miles, we received a welcome boost as Alison, Hollie and Freddie were waiting to cheer us on. I think they had been there for quite a while, enjoying a snooze in the sun. The final two miles of the race were uphill and on the roughest terrain but finally Holkham Hall came into sight, just as I overtook Sydney the “dog”. He had been blatantly cheating by carrying his head! A quick look at the watch revealed less than a mile to go but, rather frustratingly, the course went past the finish and away from it, before doubling back in a loop. As the finishing line was crossed, the button was pressed and a time of 2 hours, 38 minutes and 53 seconds showed – a personal best! (First ever half marathon).
It was an absolute joy running with my son and daughter. Dare I say it? I am already looking forward to doing it again.
Marcus/little bro’s Race Report
The North Norfolk half marathon was my first proper run. I have always played sport, predominantly football and cricket, and have therefore stayed (fairly!) active. This run however felt another step up. Looking at the weather forecast on the days running up to the race, it looked as though it was going to be a hot and sunny day! And as Sunday arrived, it didn’t disappoint. I had gone for a last pre-race run on the Friday prior to the Sunday in very warm temperatures. This may have been a bad idea! I struggled, and in turn casted doubts on my ability to run the half marathon.
When it came to race day, I was running with my sister and father. We took it easy for the first half of the race. I think we all felt pretty good. For me anyway, surprisingly good. It was very hot and on differing terrain. With it being such a hot day, hydration was paramount. The organisers had numerous water stations along the route. I think originally we had been given every 3 mile stop offs as our water stations. Thankfully they turned out to be much more frequent!
So we carried on until 2 miles to go. At this point I increased my speed slightly, as I still felt ok. Again, against what I had expected! Overall I found the run enjoyable, and as I finished, after thinking about what I was going to get from the fish and chip shop, my thoughts went straight to planning my next race.
Can you believe they have both finished saying they want to do it again?! *proud face*
And I’ll leave you with a few more shots that make it a proud AND a happy face…
Sounds like a pretty obvious statement, right? Especially for someone who writes a running blog and whose Twitter bio starts ‘Mostly just running’.
But it wasn’t until last week, when I found the photo below, that I realised how much it’s become the case.
I’ve been a runner for four years. I can say this with certainty, because it wasn’t a gradual process. I never ran, not really even at school. Then one day, I signed up to my first race, and I ran. I pretty much became a runner overnight. Simple.
That photo up there is my medal rack as it was after We Own The Night in 2013. Just five. Now, one year and one week later, this is what it looks like.
I’ve gone a bit crazy, huh? But like I said, I genuinely hadn’t realised quite how much. In the last year I’ve run a marathon, four half marathons and countless other shorter races. But running is the least important thing. People, experiences, travel, friends, support. That’s why running has taken over my life.
The weekend kicked off early on Saturday morning, with a trip to Southwark parkrun. This is technically now my ‘home’ parkrun, as it is the closest to me, but I am also in fairly easy Overground distance of Highbury Fields, Hilly Fields and maybe even Crystal Palace too (but am yet to venture there). I decided to walk the relatively short distance over the river and along Jamaica Road to Southwark park to meet up with Charlie and Laureen who had also volunteered.
Steph, ever the parkrun tourist, joined us from SW London as she edges to within touching distance of her 50 tshirt (just checked – she’s on 48!) I was given barcode scanning (it took me a while to get the ‘knack’ of it and at one point quite a queue had built up!), Charlie on finisher tokens and Laureen was marshalling out on the course. It was a really miserable, cold and wet morning, but it was great fun and we headed for brunch on the promise that we’d all be back soon.
Brunch was at Village East over on Bermondsey Street. Fairly quickly I recognised a lot of similarities to The Riding House Café on Great Titchfield Street (where I went for a ‘nice’ lunch with my mum a few months ago) which were in no way a coincidence as a quick Google search told me they are part of the same company, along with The Garrison, also on Bermondsey Street.
I had the bacon sandwich with avocado and chilli jam (£7) with a side of oh-so-creamy scrambled eggs (£2). Avocado is always a winner for me, and I do like a menu to make a bit of an effort wih staple brunch items such as sandwiches or a full English. Speaking of which, Charlie had the Village veggie breakfast (£10) which was one of the most inventive non-meat breakfasts I’ve come across with halloumi, egg, mushroom, tomato, quinoa, chilli and carrot. (As a side note, the Bill’s vegetarian breakfast (£7.95) is pretty ace on this front too.)
After this, we decided we wanted brunch pudding, so headed to Del Aziz. All of us have been there before, and we decided on a pot of fresh mint tea and three cakes to share between the four of us. We went for baked cheesecake, banana and walnut cake and apple and walnut tart. I am LOVING apple tarts at the moment! The cake was massive, the tea delicious and we spent almost three hours lounging on the sofas in the corner. Devine.
Finally, I get to the race report part. I went home, had a cake-induced nap and woke up grouchy with the rain lashing down against my window. Going to run around Victoria Park was the last thing I wanted to do. Nevertheless, soon I was stood freezing at the start line, and instead of a plan to take it easy, Charlie had somehow got me and Harry to agree to try (for as long as we could) to go sub-50. Umm, what?!
We were the closest to the start of a race that I’ve even been, so we were off very quickly. We settled into a 8:45 pace for the first two miles, with me and/or Harry saying “I could slow down” at fairly regular intervals. We passed the awesome Cheer Dem at 4k, and despite speeding up after coming through the cheers, it become obvious by around halfway that sub-50 was off the cards.
Did this mean Charlie let us step off the gas? HELL NO. She was the ultimate cheerleader and pacer all in one, tearing her way through the crowds and for most of it I literally felt like I was clinging on. It was super congested by the second lap, but somehow we managed to gain speed. Round two of Cheer Dem was even better than the first, and boosted us to a fastest final mile of 8:07. This was followed by the final few hundred metres at a pace of 7:30!
Unfortunately neither Charlie or Harry beat their PBs, but their fantastic pacing, dragging, chat and encouragement helped me take almost 3 minutes off mine (which still stood from WOTN last year), coming in at 53:15. I am absolutely chuffed with that time, and it has given me the confidence to think that one day, I might be able to conquer sub-50 (Charlie’s definitely got it in the bag).
After the race, we found a few of the TNR girls (in the tent handing out free Prosecco, natch) and we headed to Shoreditch for Pad Thai. A perfect end to a perfect day.
Despite being really dubious beforehand and really not wanting to run at the time, this was a really, really good race. It’s come on LOADS since last year (bigger race village, speedier bag drop, more starting waves, less windy and narrow course) and I had a really great time. I wouldn’t hesitate in recommending people sign up. For me to have broken my PB at this race two years running it must be doing something right, eh?!
The last two were part of marathon training, so they were 'just' training runs. They were at a time when 14, 16, 18 mile runs were the weekly norm.
The furthest I've run since the marathon six weeks ago is 7 miles. I've run a lot since then, but I've run short and I've run fast.
I feel very blasé about today's race, but at the same time very apprehensive. For the first time ever, I'm going to race on what I would call an injury. I'm very sensible normally and wouldn't usually have chosen to run, but today I'm running with my 59 year old Dad and 22 year old brother. It will be my little bro's first race, so there's no way I'm not running.
It's also forecast to be very hot. And the race doesn’t start until 11am, so we will literally be running in the beating midday sun. I hate running in the heat. I am not a hot weather person. Yesterday we panic bought new vest tops, white tshirts and hand held water bottles. At least I have my visor.
And then there's the route. The field is 339 runners, it's all primarily off road, it's rural, it's a little but hilly. Just look at the map.