Great Langdale Christmas Pudding 10k

The gale arrives, or rather the rain arrives, in time for the race at midday. We both don Santa hats, something I’ve not done for a run before. L says I look more like an elf. Cheers. I wonder if all us elves have to run in a group together..

The race is under new management this year and they have dedicated the race as a ‘testimonial’ to the guy who used to organise it. We see him running the fun run before the main race, which is a relief. We don’t want it to turn into a ‘memorial’ just yet.

The only change in organisation that I can see is that the 10k is marked in miles this year. Pffff. Sacrilege.

I take the event very slowly and the knee is fine, on the flat bits and even the uphills but I have to crawl down some of the downhills. Funny thing is, I’d always had this run down as pretty flat in an undulating sort of way. Funny how your perception can change when injured.

The result is my slowest ever 10k... 54:34. As L would say shoot me now or lead me to the Old Peculiar.

Hidden Peak Sportive

Today we head over to the Lady Manners School in Bakewell for The National Trust’s Hidden Peak Sportive. Actually the peaks aren’t very hidden at all, they’re totally in your face all the time, looming up in front of you and your bike.

Today is L’s sportive debut on her new bike. Cue drum roll. To say she’s a touch nervous would be the understatement of the year. She’ll be fine, I keep telling her. She’s doesn’t believe me obviously.

L does the 38km and I do the 82km which obviously has about twice as many hills in it as we toured around the Central Peak District and Staffordshire Moorlands. Thankfully it also has twice the number of cake stops. Some of the downhills, it has to be said, were awesome. I bet L was glad we got her brakes adjusted.

Everything about the event is good really. It’s well signed, the road surfaces are good and the feed stations well stocked. Some of my route overlaps with the last Sportive we did, also by the same organisers, and they send me up past Thorpe Cloud again. Thanks guys. I really needed to do that one again.

The only downside was perhaps the rumours of sausage roll rationing at the finish and the fact some poor soul had their bike nicked from outside registration.

The weather also behaved itself, turning out remarkably mild and largely dry. Although I’m guessing the guys starting late on the longest route were perhaps not so fortunate.

L comes away with a silver certificate and is stood waiting for me with the dogs as I finish my route. After having stopped to embrace all three of them and to cherish my survival, I roll across the line to collect my bronze one. Hmmm. Apparently I’m one solitary minute outside the silver limit. Be careful who you embrace and for how long on these things.

Leicester Half Marathon

Today the Leicester Half Marathon, in the rain. Yes the conditions aren’t great as we arrive at Victoria Park and park right next to the course for free. I think this happens because they haven’t really published any parking instructions, there are some in the race pack but they’re not much use as I have to pick that up after we’ve parked... I think they need to make better use of their website, which is currently poor.

The race pack goes onto mention the list of banned substances: - mp3 players, roller blades, dogs (sorry boys) and walking in the first four miles (good luck enforcing that one!).

A lot of the organisation isn’t great but one thing they do seem to get right, and it’s probably the most important, is the course, which I love. At Nottingham two weeks ago, the organisation was mostly pretty slick but they seemed to go to great lengths to avoid including Nottingham in the route. Leicester however took the route straight through the city by road, showing off the city centre and then after we’d reached the outskirts we returned through parkland. First Watermead Park, then through Abbey Park and along the canal, all of this was on tarmac paths, no gravel. Then finally back in the city, the last two miles were spent in the pedestrianised centre. An excellent combination of city centre and parkland. Nottingham take note.

The crowds could have been bigger but considering the rain the turnout wasn’t bad. The weather had been so bad that three sections of the route were flooded, including one quite unpleasant section in a subway but there wasn’t much they could have done about that. Although the rain did actually stop for most of the time I was out on the course.

There were other minor annoyances too, that all add up. Drinks in cups is a total no-no for a big race like this, particularly for a full marathon. Good job it wasn’t hot. On the plus side having High 5 drink available was a bonus.

I also missed all but one of the first six mile markers as they along with hundreds of other race related signs were the same sized yellow signs. Next year please, a different colour, bigger and on both sides of the road.

Then there was the timing chip fiasco. The timing chip was stuck in a plastic bag on the back of your race number and the first mile was accompanied by the sound of a cascade of these chips crashing against the pavement as loads fell off. I lost mine, so I picked another one up off the road, so at least they couldn't charge me for losing one. So somebody out there will get a surprise time. Maybe a good time or maybe a bad one, depending on what their expectations were. Other people went back, swimming against the tide, trying to retrieve their own which caused a few issues.

They clearly realised quite soon that there was a problem and they reverted to manual timing. This caused a huge bottle neck at the finish as everyone queued in single file for them to record everyone’s number in the order they finished but the organisers at least deserve credit for trying to recover the situation.

The course was generally flat apart from the last mile which was all uphill. My time of 01:42 was three minutes quicker than Nottingham, indicating that I’m slightly less injured now.

Finally, there was no goodie bag and all the medals and t-shirts say marathon on them, so I can't show off either as I only did the half!

Nottingham Half Marathon

So today, my limp around the Nottingham Half Marathon. The first problem is getting there. My usual short cut across Castle Bridge Road by the Sainsburys’ superstore has been closed off and I headed into town having already seen the epic queue along the ring road. Getting within a mile was fine; getting that final mile took about forty five minutes. With no police or marshals directing traffic, it was every man, woman and Robin Hood for themselves which simply made things worse.

When I finally got there, it was long after my father had arrived and it’s not often that happens. Once on site, the organisation is better and the atmosphere building nicely. After pointing my father in the direction of a good spot to watch the start, I slot myself into the sub 1:40 red zone, along with the multitude of different coloured numbers that were already lining up there. My pace was optimistic due to the state of my ankle, not sure what everyone else’s excuse was but at least I was of the right colour.

We start and my ankle feels ok at first as we head past Nottingham Railway Station, sadly currently hidden behind a ton of scaffolding. Then we embarking on the long hike out of town along Queens Drive, a dull dual carriageway lined with business premises. I pass L and the boys who are supporting at the two mile point and then see someone short cut back to the start, presumably to be an early retirement. I still feel ok at that point, so I don’t join them but within a mile the ankle starts to throb and I wonder if I’ll make it round or not.

I hobble badly for a couple of miles but then I guess it goes numb because I don’t have too much trouble after that. So then it’s just a question of surviving the course. Unfortunately the new course, introduced last year, is not very inspiring and by now we’re running through, for no apparent reason, the Boots Industrial Estate. The estate is closed to the public and there were about 10 hardy folks supporting us in the whole of that desolate wasteland. Them and the tumbleweed of course.

Sadly the support out on the whole course is also a lot less than it was due to less places of civilisation now being included on the route. Even Wollaton Park, which was always a good spectator point, that pulled the crowds and therefore helped spur on the runners, is no longer include.

In an attempt to be ‘fast n flat’, the new course misses out any such scenic bits if they are within sneezing distance of mild incline, meaning the new route also does little to promote the best of Nottingham. The old course was much better and even that didn't take in enough of Nottingham.

I had hoped to pace myself around behind some lass in a Robin Hood suit but although the organisers have encouraged people to dress up as RH in an attempt to set a world record, they all seem to be men. There’s not even a scantily clad Maid Marion to be found.

After a bit of scenery around the university and not of the Maid Marion variety, it’s another dull plod back towards the city centre. We are turned away before we get there of course but if you're quick, you do get a glimpse of the castle on your left before they finish us off, literally, with a two mile out and back slog along Victoria Embankment.

This really tests your mental preparation. I was lucky I had L and the dogs there for a quick pat and a snog. That spurred me on for a while but even that wore off as the turning point seemed to get further and further away. Once there, you were in the unenviable position of knowing exactly how far it was back the other way. Evil stuff.

One thing I haven’t dealt with before are the new water pouches and perhaps I should have watched the video they supplied on how to work them. I couldn’t get enough water out of mine, while other folk seemed to get too much. Still, I’m sure they’re a good idea. I just need some practice.

Finally the finish arrives, with lots of people sat in the grandstands and a good jovial commentator announcing people as they come in. I’m handed my medal and goodie bag. Suddenly it’s almost worth it. Still no t-shirt in the goodie bag though.

Then we sit in the stands ourselves, watching everyone else come in. Including two women with orange numbers doing it in charity t-shirts who started beside me in the sub 1:40 red zone but came in at about 2:45, an hour after I’d finished.

John 'Tommo' Thompson Memorial Ride

The conditions were a touch Autumnal for the John 'Tommo' Thompson Memorial Ride today. e.g. it was well chilly and it looked like it was going to bucket it down any moment. I think the aim by most people, us included, was to get up to the start at Carsington Water and get on with asap before the heavens opened.

As it happened they opened almost immediately after we had started but thankfully only lightly. It then fined up and stayed dry until we were safely in the car heading home afterwards. I hear some of the folk on the longest route weren't so lucky.

The route, around the Peak District and the Staffordshire Moorlands, consisted of hills, hills and more hills. Bloody hard it was. I got the distinct impression that the organisers did not attempt to avoid any climbs whatsoever and even went out of their way to find the most fearsome ones.

The route took us over part of the Ashbourne Half Marathon course that I did last year. I couldn't believe I managed to run up those hills.

I attempted the 76k route, L did the 45k. Both had a feed station at Thorpe but by differing routes. I beat L there by ten minutes over a slightly longer route but then her shorter route home beat me back to the finish.

In between I had an altercation with a wasp, that kindly embedded itself in my face by it's sting as I bombed downhill at something approaching 40mph. There it hung there laughing as I attempted to either shake it off or to slow down and stop. Eventually I managed the later putting my leg down on a verge resplendent in deep nettles in the process. Double ouch. I nearly hit the tarmac but managed to stay upright, just or else that would have been a triple ouch.

The sting wasn’t pleasant and started to swell up pretty quickly, I always get a reaction to stings but it didn’t get really bad until much later. After I had valiantly completed the course and got back to Carsington where there was plenty of very welcome tea and cake.

Budapest Half Marathon

We skip the hotel breakfast and head into the City Park, where it proves to be much easier to find the race HQ in the daylight. It’s already warm, even before the 9am start, and I think it’s going to get warmer.

There are hundreds of foreigners in the race and we get chatting to a chap from Milton Keynes who is currently working in Budapest. We stop talking to him when he indicates he intends to run the course in 1:32.

At 9am, we’re off and running back across Heroes' Square, then most of the first four kms are in a straight line down the World Heritage site of Andrassy Avenue. I’m not too sure what constitutes a World Heritage site but I’ve certainly never ran down one before, so that was pretty cool.

Then we hit or rather cross the Danube on the Chain Bridge. The Danube divides the two districts of Buda and Pest and now we are in the former. Most of the course takes place along the banks of this mighty river, on one side or the other, until after 16km we head back to the outskirts, across Heroes' Square again and to the finish back at the City Park.

It was one of the most scenic races I’ve ever ran. Budapest is an impressive city steeped in multicultural history. From the Romans through the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the dalliance with the Nazis and the communist occupation via Ghengis Khan and Attila the Hun, after whom most of the streets seem to be named.

When I remembered to look at all this impressive-ness it was a handy distraction to take my mind off the suffering. As I’m wearing my GB Olympic top I get a few chants of ‘Go Team GB’ which also helps with the morale.

The temperature was by now approaching 30 degrees but luckily the drinks stations are plentiful, except oddly there are none in the first 5k but thereafter they are everywhere. They have also given everyone a sponge and there’s a bucket to dump it in at every drinks station, so I take full advantage of this.

The temperature rises higher still as we pass the cheerleaders...

It's all oddly very un-PC, so well done Hungary for that and the girls do an outstanding job of raising the morale of at least the male runners.

It’s a largely flat course but one thing I’d forgotten about was that we’d be running in metric which didn’t help the pacings per mile that I’d got in my head. Some on the hoof mathematics made me decide that 4:45 per km would see me home in a reasonable time. Unfortunately I regularly missed this target and was surprised, but delighted, to find my mathematics a bit off as I came home in a satisfying 1:43:11.

After a bit of lying down in some very crap grass. It’s all crap actually, it’s like MD has been around the whole park wearing it out, I head back towards Heroes Square to watch L hobble home. She shouldn’t really be running at all and hasn’t trained, so just finishing is an achievement.

Just one more thing to get and that’s our race t-shirts. Which were rather bizarrely being handed out, not at the finish or with the start packs, but at Nike's shop a mile away in Budapest's West End Arcade. It takes us a while to find the arcade but then when we do there is no mistaking that we are in the right place as we join a very slow moving queue.

There's probably only about 60-70 people in the queue but it takes 70 minutes to get to the front because they are making everyone sign for their shirt. This is almost as long as it took me to run the race. Once there we are told only XS and XL men's sizes are left or they’ll order our size in and we can pop back in a few weeks to pick it up. Like that’s going to happen.

John Fraser 10

I would have liked to have ran another half marathon today but for various reasons that wasn’t happening. Races were either full, too far away or I had missed the closing date due to being away. So today I drop down to 10 miles and the John Fraser 10 which is a jaunt around the Leicestershire countryside from a place called Countesthorpe. I’d heard of the race but I had to look Countesthorpe up on the map because I’d never heard of it despite its close proximity to Leicester itself.

Race HQ was at the local college before they took us out on to the road for the start where 500 or so of us caused quite a traffic management problem. L is supporting this morning, saving her injuries from further jarring ahead of Budapest next weekend.

The route was pretty much how I like them, pretty dull. It was an out and back with a loop on the end through countryside, mainly on country roads with a single track tarmac section which wasn’t used by traffic. It was all very well marshalled and with plenty of drinks stations (in cups). One thing it wasn’t though was flat. You were either climbing a hill or descending one. None of the hills on their own were particularly evil, it was just that there was barely a flat piece of road in the whole 10 miles.

I didn’t start particularly fast and as the terrain eventually took its toll, there wasn’t much chance of improving on that. So my finishing time of 1:18 is very much on the slow side.

Great Scottish Swim

Today we are at Balloch where the Great Scottish Swim takes place. I believe this is the first Scottish swim to beat both the weather and the algae, to actually take place. Although this is their first attempt at Loch Lomond. Which is also, according to the signs, 'Certified Unsuitable For Swimming'.

Both L and I swim the mile. I start at 10.30am, L starts at 1.05pm, giving enough time for dog handover in between.

As I wait to start, at first I don’t realise that I’m stood next to Evan Thomas. 

Then after L has pointed this out and asked me to take photos of him, I suddenly realise that I’ve also been stood next to Keri-Anne Payne, super open water champion babe, but was too busy biting my nails to notice.

The swim itself is ok, as swims go. Actually I’m sure I swam well over a mile, so my half ironman distance of 1.2 miles shouldn’t be a problem. I get lost on the way out and get corrected by a marshal in a canoe. I get even more lost on the way back due to the sun being very low and totally blinding me as I swim back to shore. Simply following the pair of feet in front of me doesn't work, when another canoe based marshal paddles after him and turns him around until he's pointing in the right direction. Do they do SatNav for swimmers?

As I swim past a marshal actually stood in the middle of the loch, I realise I could have probably walked some of it.

I’m quicker than at Windermere but a lot slower than at Nottingham, where there was the advantage of following the edge of the rowing strip to stay in a straight line and therefore I didn’t get lost.

Then we hand over the baton (the dogs) and L does her swim. A mile being a bit of a come down for her, she's used to doing two.

Coll Half Marathon

We are booked on the early morning ferry which has a last check-in time of 6.15am, so it’s practically still dark when we take the charred remains of the tent down. The two hour forty minute ferry crossing to Coll is packed. Packed with runners that is, many who take the journey as an opportunity to catch up on their sleep. Others are tucking into their pre-race muesli but some are on the full Scottish. What the hell, it’s a 2pm race start, plenty of time to digest it all. We tuck in.

Once docked in port at Arinagour on Coll there’s a mad rush up the hill to the Race HQ and the temporary campsite on the local football field. As most are on foot, the car gives us quite a head start and we get there early enough to pick a decent spot.

The day consists of four races. A half marathon, a 10k, a 5k and a kids’ race. Which, I think, are all scheduled to start at the same time from different places on the island, converging at the finish line at the community centre.

This involves everyone getting lifts to the various starts. My injury ravaged partner has opted for the 10k, so she disappears off in one of the minibuses. My start is down at the ferry pier, nearly a mile back down the road. With half an hour to go to start time the heavens open. Twenty minutes later and with the start now just ten minutes away we are all still peering out of the community centre windows praying for it to stop. At least we have shelter. I hear those dropped at the 10k start are not so fortunate.

Eventually with the race already almost turning into a 14 miler we hot foot it to the start where a brief, soundless, aerobic warm-up is in progress. At least the rain has now stopped and the sun is coming out.

Moments later, we’re off. I punch start on my watch, which instantly turns black for a few seconds before rebooting itself and informing me it’s 00:00:00 on 01/01/01. Bugger. Flat battery or water damage me thinks.

By now we’re heading back to and past the community centre, then steadily uphill into a brisk head wind. We continue steadily uphill... steadily uphill... into the wind. L certainly knew what she was doing when she got a lift to the half way point for the 10k start.

Four miles done and my watch is telling me it’s 33 minutes past midnight, so at least I’m sort of timing myself. Not that it matters, I’ve already realised that this isn’t going to be fast.

Eventually we turn and the wind becomes sideways on but still we climb. Then we turn again, get the wind behind us and head downhill. We pass through the 10k start and along a path that runs through the sand dunes. It’s all quite pretty actually. I think I can actually enjoy this.

I overtake quite a few people in the second half of the race, apart from one stubborn *******, who after I’ve spent a whole mile reeling him in, suddenly has a Lazarus moment at the 13 mile point and sprints to the finish.

I cross the line in 1:48 where L is waiting for me, having survived her downhill 10k.

There is a great post race setup with various food stalls, a BBQ and real ale from the Fyne Brewery. 

 

Later there is a Ceilidh with the band Trail West but by then we are pissed and up to our own drunken frivolity so we don’t join in. 

Stafford Goes Pedalling Sportive

Today Staffordshire Goes Pedalling and we join in. L has blagged the 35 mile route which means I have to man up and do the full 70 mile option. The start is at the rather pleasant location of Shugborough Hall.

I roll out at 8.30am with an hour's head start on L. The initial group of about 20 that I’m placed with seem to go off at a steady enough pace and I’m happy to stick with them. As we leave, we are pre-warned that the only hills in the main route are early on and within three miles we are heading up a climb on Cannock Chase. I change down to a lower gear and my chain promptly comes off. Bugger. By the time I’ve got oily and reattached it, my group are no longer looking quite so sedate and are already half way up the climb. I set off in pursuit.

Pretty soon there are bodies all over the hill but I don’t find it that testing and pass most of them, eventually catching up with the front of the group, although gasping and out of breath a touch. Just as I do the four girls in the group opt to pull over to admire each other’s sunglasses. Two of the guys in the group pull over as well, presumably to admire the girls admiring their sunglasses. The remaining four of us 'surge' over the top and immediately form a breakaway group.

We are making reasonable, if unspectacular, progress until a chap appears out of nowhere, doing about twice our pace and seemingly intent on time trailing his way solo through the whole distance. Everyone, except me, attempts to jump on his wheel. Total madness.

Momentarily abandoned and on a descent, I watch a girl upfront take a wrong turn, attempt a swift u-turn, hit some gravel and down she goes. I stop to scrape her off the tarmac and help her wobble to the curb for a sit down. There are plenty of signs on the route but they are small, in not very bright colours and often they do not give you enough advance warning of upcoming turns.

I leave the girl babbling to herself and push on. One by one I catch the foolhardy ex-members of my breakaway group, now with their tails firmly between their legs. I stick with one of them and with Cannock Chase now behind us we head through Lichfield. We’re going nowhere fast again but I’m happy to gently advance towards the first feed station which is after 36 miles. Then bizarrely the guy I’m following decides to stop and dismount in the middle of the road. I swerve around him and am almost wiped out by the fast moving peloton coming up behind me, which I had no idea was so close. Where was the chap on the motorbike holding the blackboard telling me that they were like 5 seconds behind?

As everyone pieces their nerves back together I try to look as anonymous as possible amongst their number and hitch a ride. We head over the A38 and round past Catton Hall where there is as expected a dog show in progress, there always is. Although not in their usual field that’s been taken over by the Bloodstock musical festival.

Then we roll in to the feed at Barton Under Needwood. Held in a bike shop with one toilet (big queue) and a stock of bananas, water, energy bars and gels. No tea and cake, shame. The CNP black cherry gels are rather nice though and would be great drizzled on ice cream.

The peloton that I swept in with are still recuperating or OD-ing on the black cherry, so I head off alone but following someone, so that they can spot the signs for me. Even then I miss one, even though the rider I was following took the turn.

That rider is one of the girls who was in the group I chased up the initial climb and eventually the rest of her group sweep us both up and yay, I’m moving swiftly in a group again. Then disaster. None of the eight of us see the upcoming right turn until it’s too late. The chap pulling on the front yells as we pass it, the girl behind him screams as she passes it, clips him and goes down. The girl behind goes over the top of her and the person behind her, me, takes swift but successful evasive action. We all stand at the road side and survey the damage count...  two cracked helmets, a pair of smashed sunglasses, a twisted but fixable set of front forks and quite a bit of blood. 

The group quickly swells to about 30 concerned faces, so I make my excuses and hope-you're-oks and head off to the second feed at Blithfield Reservoir which is just a mile away. If this look familiar, it is, it’s where I cycled in the triathlon last weekend and I now head across the very same causeway. The feed also has cakes, so that’s good. Still no tea though. Whilst there I get a text from L, saying she’s now at the finish. So it sounds like her new tyres stayed up.

I have just 12 miles to go, which is achieved without incident and back in a group.

At the finish there is real ale, a decent ham roll and bag full of bling that sadly will mostly go in the bin.

Blithfield Sprint Triathlon

A 5am alarm call this morning as we all head over to the Blithfield Reservoir near Abbotts Bromley, Staffordshire. I’m competing in Blithfield Triathlon, Sprint version. L and the boys are along to support.

So a 750m swim, a 20km bike and a 5k run. While the last two parts are like falling off a log, the first part is a bit like falling into a reservoir. Which should at least involve swallowing less detritus that at Holme Pierrepont as in theory we’re swimming in tomorrow’s drinking water.

My swim is memorable, for the wrong reasons, again I can’t get my stroke going and I'm very thankful I’m not doing the Olympic distance as this would mean doing a second lap of the swim circuit. Note to self - when I do enter an Olympic distance race, make sure it’s not a two lap, the temptation to abort would just be too great.

Thereafter I don’t rush transition, four minutes I believe it was, as I’m practising more for the longer distances than this one. Obviously I still need to work on the swim bit... I try all the kit I would use on a half ironman bike, probably putting on more layers that are perhaps necessary and also gloves which I wouldn't usually bother with in a sprint tri. As an experiment, wearing my calve supports under my wetsuit worked well. They are still in place and being wet doesn’t half their effectiveness.

I head out on to the bike course, which has been altered due to flooding and now includes quite a steep but short climb, which I love. It's a scenic route that also takes us back across the reservoir on a causeway.  As ever it takes 5 miles to get into the bike, which is almost half way but it goes well.

My transition to the run is much shorter; I even found some running shoes with elastic laces in the back of the cupboard which helps.

The run takes us along the edge of the reservoir and again upon the causeway before turning around as we head for home. It’s a flat run and would have been fast had it not been on a gritty, rocky track that makes me worry for my ankles.

Notts 5

Tonight my partner has entered us both in the Notts 5 race on the Embankment. Only now she’s pulled out due to injury and will be supporting instead. I feel a bit set up but she says it will do me good. I’m not so sure it will.

I think she ought to sit in the boot with the dogs so that she can’t see what’s going on otherwise her bottom lip will be quivering in a right old sulk.

Things don't start well even before the start, when I put my foot down a hole warming up and sprain my ankle. I have to sit down until the world stops spinning. Thankfully the start has been delayed by ten minutes due to traffic on the course which gives me some recovery time.

The run, as expected, was bloody hard work; they always are these shorter ones. The shorter they are the longer they seem to take. Not that the ankle helps. My legs tell me I was out there longer than on last week’s half marathon but my watch says otherwise. 36:35 Once upon a time I could do these in 32...

Arley Hall Cheshire Half Marathon

The Cheshire Half sent out an email this week offering tips for running in hot temperatures. Saying thing such as ‘don't be afraid to adjust your pace’ and that ‘starting out too fast and overheating is not the best strategy to run your best race’. Hmmm. Who are they kidding?

We drive up to Arley Hall for the 9.30am start and park right next to the start, which is a refreshing bonus compared with some of the long walks from car parks you get these days.

The temperature is many degrees cooler than it has been, so there should be no need to use the suggesting tactics of slowing down. The route takes us through the Cheshire countryside and is largely flat. The countryside only really offers views of grass, hedges and of course tarmac, so there’s little to distract me from my task. My partner would have hated it, as there's no window shopping, so it’s perhaps a good job she’s not doing it. Although instead she’s looking after the excitable dogs, which she’s also not enjoying much.

I run at 7:30 pace for the first half of the race and then at a 8:00 pace for the second half, producing a 1:42 which was satisfying enough.

All three of the drinks stations had bottled water, which made refuelling and cooling down easy. Despite this, some people had taken the advice to carry a bottle or wear a camel bac, which slowed them down enough for me to overtake them.

At the end a decent t-shirt and in my goodie bag apparently also a medal. Oh and a flapjack that the dog tries his hardest to extract from the bag.

Big Swim, Nottingham

Today I have the dubious honour of swimming in the rowing strip at the National Water Sports Centre, Holme Pierrepont.

There are three distances on offer: - 5k, 3k and 1.5k. No prizes for guessing which one I’ve gone for. L has opted for 3k and this starts at the very human time of 2.30pm. We head down a little early to check of the ‘Expo’, which is mainly for the Outlaw Ironman Triathlon on Sunday. The place is literally buzzing, mainly with folk getting ready for the Outlaw, racking bikes etc, but there are quite a few of us there purely to don some rubber.

We check in and are asked to show some photographic identification, as if anybody would pretend to be me and steal my place. We are then issued with a wristband (no idea what the purpose of this is), a timing chip and a coloured swim cap. Blue for the boys, red for the girls.

Then before long L is in the water and away. We have been briefed that the swim route is very simple. Straight up, round two orange buoys and then back, in a clockwise direction. Simple, as long as you can swim.

 L has to do this circuit twice, with a little run along the bank in between. So almost an aquathon. Having seen her complete her first circuit, I start to get ready for my date with the water. Then they announce that my start has been delayed from 4pm to 4.30pm to give the canoeists a break from the sun. Which is fine, if only they’d told me before I’d struggled into my wetsuit. It’s very warm today and once the wetsuit is on, you start to melt from the inside out. I suppose what I actually need now is a cooling dip in the lake but as this is no longer available, I choose to take the suit off again. At least now I will get to see L finish.

Then it’s my turn. Everything starts off much better than at Windermere. Firstly they give us time to acclimatise in the water and I make sure I’m one of the first in, to maximise this. We also actually start from within the water, which also makes it easier.

I almost enjoy the start and the early use of elbows as I jostle for position in the pack. I think eventually I get spat out the back of it, which I’m not too upset about. Then I realise I’m about to head butt the bank because I’m way off course, which is probably why no one considers me worth an elbow any more.

Clearly my ‘sighting’ (e.g. looking where I’m going) needs a bit of work but stroke wise I feel I’m close to getting the hang of it and I manage to do front crawl throughout. Wetsuit #3 also doesn’t seem to be choking the life out of me, which helps. Oddly though, I’m breathing almost totally over my left shoulder, which is something I cannot do in the pool where I almost exclusively use the right. I have no sane explanation for this.

The breathing also involves spitting loads of weeds out, which is an unexpected bonus but thankfully I don’t come across any supermarket trolleys. Thankfully because I know they have it in for me.

The main problem now is that someone appears to have moved the orange buoys because it’s a bloody long way. By the time I get there, I have cramp in both calves, which is a bit inconvenient. It comes and goes but doesn’t pass. At least, as I discover, in a wetsuit you don't need to kick your legs for buoyancy and can simply drag them uselessly behind you.

After a few more attempts at head butting the bank, which is accompanied by the unjust feeling that by doing all this zigzagging I must have swam twice as far as everyone else, I see the finish line.

As I reach the finish, I am more than happy to crawl up the slip way to the finish gantry but the marshals insist on helping me to my feet. Then they repeat this kind gesture after I have toppled over backwards as my legs temporarily decline the offer of terra firma.

35 minutes it took me, which is 10 minutes better than Windermere for 100m less. Sort of good I suppose.

St Barnabas Grimsthorpe Challenge

This morning, a sort of early morning drive over to Grimsthorpe Castle, which is near Bourne and if that doesn’t help, Bourne is near Grantham. If you don’t know where Grantham is, consult a map.

It’s also a family outing, in that L and the boys come for the trip out too. Even my Mum and Dad are rumoured to be on their way. All without bikes though, I have my bike because it’s another Sportive, the first St Barnabas Grimsthorpe Challenge.

As I check in, the organiser explains there have been a few minor changes to the routes, meaning that mine is now up to 60 miles. I had thought I'd signed up to something of approximately 50-55 miles. I’ve not opted for the 100 mile route this time preferring to see how quickly I can do something of around the Half Ironman distance of 56 miles.

Someone straps a SportIdent orienteering style dibber to my wrist; it's been a long time since I used one of those. Then it’s off to the start area right outside the castle and I roll out across the line at 8.45. L waves goodbye and heads off to take the boys for a good two and a half hour yomp and a paddle.

Today’s event is insured by British Cycling who stipulate the helmets are compulsory, so it's a good job I've remembered mine this time.

Even the weather is playing ball, unlike last weekend the sun is out and there’s no sign of rain. The wind and the hills are ever present though.

Some participants seem to go wrong early on, I don't know how. It’s all very well signed but I think they all just followed each other like sheep.

There are two stops on the route at Pickwell after 31 miles and Geetham after 44 miles. I have one of L’s legendary buns with me to supplement the refreshments they offer us. My Dad was allegedly loitering in another village, Cottesmore, which we went through twice, but I didn’t see him and L later tracks him down at the finish.

It’s a nice route, the only downside being a long stretch of freshly stone chipped road which they probably couldn't avoid. 56 miles (Half Ironman distance) arrives in exactly 3:30 excluding stops. The finish line arrives in 4.09 including stops because by then, somehow, I’ve managed to wipe my bike computer.

There's quite a welcome party as I arrive. My parents, my father's camera, the boys and of course my podium girl who delivers the traditional sweaty kiss.

I have little time to savour the atmosphere though as I have promised to try my legs out with a run. So it’s a quick T1 (transition) and off for a short 2 mile run before arriving back for tea, sandwiches and juice.

Great Nottinghamshire Bike Ride

So today, the Great Nottinghamshire bike ride, all 100 miles of it. I head off by bike to the Embankment for the start. I had originally wanted to take the car so that I could do a triathlon testing run straight afterwards but the parking arrangements and quite possibly the weather seem to make this too difficult. I shall instead attempt this at another bike event I have booked at Grimsthorpe Castle next weekend.

I aim to be there for a 7am start but in the end mainly due to having to queue up its 7.15am by the time I roll out. The right clothing for the day has been difficult to judge, so I decide to go expecting rain, as that's what it's doing. Although wearing shorts I go in overshoes and a waterproof jacket. The advice in the race pack was to ‘wear high factor sun protection’ but that particular bit of advice is looking a bit unnecessary.

It isn’t until I roll forward up to the start line that I realise that one particularly important item is missing. I have come out without my helmet. Oops. Never done that before.

The waterproof jacket soon proves too warm and I take it off, preferring to get wet from the persistent drizzle rather than from my own perspiration.

L starts the 50 mile at 8.45 meaning I’m going to be very hard pushed to catch her, unless she has a puncture... but I daren’t even entertain that thought. I’d never hear the last of it. Talking of which, there are a worryingly huge and I mean huge number of people repairing punctures at the side of the road. Hope L hasn’t noticed...

I stop for the first time at Car Colston with 39 miles done. It’s good to see this year that there have sports drinks laid on for the first time, which is very welcome. Around the course there has also been mile markers which is a nice touch. Although Mile 2 appeared after 18 minutes cycling, which was clearly incorrect as I could have ran there faster than that. My computer had 3.5 miles on the clock at that point and in fact the markers stay ‘reliably’ 1.5 miles out throughout.

I notice that there aren’t that many like me doing the event ‘eau natural’. There are a few hardcore old guys in little white caps circa 1970’s Milk Race but not many others without a helmet.

I stop for the second time after 61 miles at Caunton with the drizzle by now getting very annoying but not as annoying as the wind.

After 73 miles done it's the feed at Wellow, where everything is free to the 100 milers. Which begs the question why can’t everything at Caunton also be free as it too is only on the 100 mile route?

Also at Wellow, I get chatting to a guy who is using this event as a training ride for the Outlaw Ironman in two weeks. I’m impressed and we bond. I tell him I watched the Half Outlaw a few weeks ago and intend to be in it next year. He tries to look impressed but isn’t as he swigs from his Half Outlaw 2013 water bottle. Ah, I see you were in it. I kiss the hallowed ground under him one more time and head for my bike, telling him I’ll catch him later. Although obviously it’s he who catches me, waves briefly and then drops me.

I now have a mere 27 miles to do; L is apparently inside the last 10. So there really is no chance of overhauling her now. Particularly as the last 20 or so miles seems so windy and hilly or perhaps my legs are just shot it.

I have to say that this has been without doubt the best route they’ve put together yet but even then they still have to ruin it by taking us through Holme Pierrepont across the pot holes and the mud. The best bike is now a right muddy mess and will need a good clean later. We also get held up here by a wedding at Blotts Country Club, where everyone has parked down both sides of the road leaving only room for one car to drive down what’s left, with cars wanting to travel in both directions this creates a standoff and gridlock with nowhere for us cyclists to go.

Eventually I make the finish line in 6 hours 36, which isn’t too bad. One more request please organisers, official timing for next year please.

I am greeted by L, who not surprisingly immediately gives me grief about the lack of a helmet.

Cross Bay Challenge

The Cross Bay Challenge is actually a full half marathon that crosses a tidal bay. I believe it is the only known race to do so. This year the race route has been reversed due to the tides or something technical and meteorological. Not that it makes much difference to us because we haven’t done the race in the opposite direction but this does seem to be a source of great excitement for others. For a start we were told it would be more scenic because we would be running towards the Lakeland fells rather than away from them and towards erm Morecambe.

As we have opted to camp only a few miles from the start, it is only a short drive to the finish line and we are directed to park on Cark Airfield, just outside the village of Flookburgh. Once there we make the dogs comfortable in the car, blacking out the windows to stop it overheating, and board a coach destined for Hest Bank in Lancashire, the start line. On the way we pass by Silverdale where a group of walkers will also be setting out on a shorter seven mile crossing.

At the start we register and are handed our race numbers, timing chip and a coloured wrist band, although I’m not exactly sure of the point of the wristband but they’re very keen we wear them.

It’s all very civilised and friendly at Hest Bank, where there’s a coffee van and a café. We discover the 11am start is delayed by half an hour, rumour has it the Kent Channel is too deep and needs the extra time to empty itself a bit more, so we plump to take on some caffeine at the café, in case this helps.

Then just before 11.30 I hand in my rucksack to the baggage van and we all troop out onto the sand. Then we’re off across Morecambe Bay with the sand under our toes.

It’s firm but wet sand, which gets wetter as we run though not one but a series of tidal channels, among them will be the already infamous Kent and its little brother the Keer. We are initially led by marshals on quad bikes. That is until they and the lead runners are out of sight, which takes a while. There are not many corners around which to lose sight of people on a beach.

The quad bikes are a replacement for the 13th century monks who used to act as guides to travellers because historically this was quickest route from Lancashire to Cumbria at low tide.

Each channel crossing seemed to get deeper but at most they are ankle deep. All quite manageable and I wonder if we’ve crossed the infamous Kent Channel yet. At just over half way I realise we haven’t because here it is. I think that rainstorm last night must have topped it up a touch. 

So... just a simple matter of wading thigh deep through what to me appears to be the sea. Looking left and right there is nothing but water. Thankfully ahead I can see sand, I set sight for that. I resist the urge to dive headlong into the water and to swim for this patch of land. Although this would be a useful opportunity to try and improve on my dodgy open water technique after yesterdays experience.

One girl has the nerve to overtake me in the channel, going through the water as if it isn’t there. She grins at me and explains she does a lot of cycling. So do I and I can’t see how that helps. I try and emulate her stride pattern but probably just look like I’m inventing a new form of aquarobics.

Throughout there have been land rovers or squad bikes stationed at regular intervals along the course with water to drink and also mile markers. Although I fear that Mile 7 had been swept out to sea, if it existed, as it should have come amidst the Kent Channel crossing I think. Mile 8 came late, simply because if not, it would also have been lost at sea. Other than that the mile marking put Loughborough last week to shame.

We start to catch up a long line of people, trudging along like the Foreign Legion out on a mission. Except for the fact, that having a dog seems to be obligatory. I realise that these are the walkers. It also feels like we’re going uphill at this point, on an otherwise flat course, but I’m not sure that’s possible.

Finally we pass something called Humphrey Head and now we can see the finish up on the bank. As I cross the line, someone puts a medal around my sweaty neck and then I retrieve my rucksack, digging out some money to buy us a couple of t-shirts, which are only a tenner each.

I bypass the massage table and its long queue, for which my calves won't thank me later. I also sidestep the handily placed real ale tent and the hog roast, at least for now, and head off to locate where I parked the dogs. This turned out to be about a mile away or so it seemed. The boys and I get back just in time to see L crossing the finishing line. Afterwards we sit on the grass watching the rest of the runners come in, both of us with our hands around a Lancaster Blonde.

I have to say it was an excellent, totally original and quirky event. It was also very well organised but then I guess it needed to be. On what is certainly not a PB course, I was nine minutes down on Loughborough last week, which I think isn’t too bad at all.

An interesting weekend.

Great North Swim

Find your next challenge here they said, so I did.

In fact I was very calm before my first open water swim. I’m not a hugely enthusiastic swimmer at the best of times but how much worse could open water be? Not much I reckoned. It’ll be colder, busier and choppier for sure but I was sure I could cope. Allegedly there’s also these water borne toxin things that L keep going on about but I’m sure you get worse things water borne in your local leisure centre’s pool.

So, you ask, if I’m not a massive swimming fan, why am I here? Well, I do have a slightly macabre fascination with triathlons and swimming is one third of those, which is rather inconvenient really. 

So here I am, trussed up in my brand new wetsuit with my better half smothering me with baby oil. So far so good then.

Then I don my green swimming cap. Indicating, coincidently, the same coloured wave as said better head was assigned to yesterday. A good omen perhaps?

First they let us into the water for a warm up. This is misleading, what they actually do is herd us single file into a small fenced off square of water, a bit like sheep heading into a sheep dip and tell us to do a quick circuit. Only one side of this square of water is deep enough to be swimmable and three strokes got you pretty much all the way across it. So the warm up didn't achieve very much other than a fleeting acclimatisation to the water temperature.

That was long enough for me to ascertain that the water wasn’t cold, not what I call cold anyway. The girl next to me disagreed vehemently with that assessment but then woman have never been a very good judge of temperature. The official temperature reading was 15.2 degrees, which is approximately how I like our heating at home.

The briefing is brief and basically tells us to swim in a big circle keeping the bright yellow buoys on our right apart from the orange ones which you swim through, even I can do that. The safety advice is that if you’re in trouble, you are to float like a dead goldfish on the surface. Which presumably is the signal for somebody in a canoe with a huge fishing net to come along and scoop you out. Then there's an on land warm up to music, which is probably as exhausting as the swim is going to be.

We start and I start at the back. I figure overtaking will be easier than being overtaken. This strategy was one of many that turned out to be flawed and whenever I got up a bit of speed I tailgated the person in front. So it’s back to the drawing board on tactics.

Problem number two was that the wetsuit floats. I was aware of this phenomenon but it is not how I envisaged at all and I found it very hard to get my head down to do my stroke. When I did, I either performed the aforementioned tailgating manoeuvre or problem number three reared its head, I started choking.

I think possibly my wetsuit was too tight around the chest and neck making it difficult to breath. Although the waves washing into my face didn't help me perform the most accurate of analyses. I briefly flipped over on to my back and breathed in, before quickly flipping back onto my front again before someone with a big fishing net came along and scooped me up. Instead I told myself to grow up and try again but still ended up doing the swim using about 70% breaststroke, which actually makes it all a doddle but this was not how I intended to do this event.

Following the buoys wasn’t a problem, so I didn’t have any need to look to see if there was indeed a black stripe running along the bottom of the lake like there is at the leisure centre. It was probably too murky to tell anyway, you could barely see through the water at all and it would have been very difficult to surreptitiously eye up the girl in the bikini who’s swimming in the next lane. This wasn't a huge issue, as there was no next lane and there was no girl in a bikini. At least I don’t think so.

At half way I’m tempted to keep going to the nearby bank, get out, have a good think about what’s going wrong, maybe bang my head against tree and then get back in for another go but I don’t. Instead I complete the distance without too much trouble although at a considerably slower pace than what I had intended. I suppose 45 minutes isn’t too bad for a first attempt and I've survived, which is the main thing. 

I sort of fist pump on my way out, yet L isn't even looking my way, she seems to be trying to get reception on her phone and is gazing with a worried look at a speed boat that's just brought an injured swimmer in. Ye of little faith. The speed boat, by the way, probably ruined my grand finale. I wondered what caused that big wave in the last 100 metres.

After that disastrous start to my first swim, what I probably need to do the most is get back in the water... oh dear.

Loughborough Half Marathon

The Loughborough Half Marathon starts and finishes in the Market Place in the centre of the town. As it’s a Sunday, street parking is free, so we can also park really close but despite this we leave the dogs at home. The weather might get hot, although there’s not much sign of this at 7.30am, at which time we are asked to be 'prompt' and to check in. If anything it’s a bit on the chilly side.

It was even chillier in March when the race was originally scheduled and snow forced a postponement. This also kicked off quite a bit of resentment as people who could not make the new date were refused permission to transfer their numbers to others. Odd, as this could have pocketed the organisers a bit more revenue in administration fees. Instead I imagine there were quite a few people running under numbers that were registered to others.

We guessed the 7.30am instruction was probably unnecessary but abided by it any way, yet registration does stay open right up to the 9am start. This does though give us plenty of time to pose with the Sock Man. 

The race route takes us through the University, both on the way out and on the way back. Then through the Garendon Park Estate, which means a lot of gravel tracks which are not really to my liking. We emerge from there the other side of the M1 and somewhere near Shepshed. At least we now have tarmac back under our feet as we start on a long slow drag up a hill to Hathern. Now I like hills and this would have been a chance for me to gain many places but we were on a single track pavement with high grass on each side. So with no scope for overtaking it was just follow my leader up the hill, very frustrating. If only somebody could have persuaded the council to cut the grass we would have had room for a bit of overtaking.

After going through Hathern itself there’s another uphill section, this time on the grass, which also wasn’t very me. I felt a bit ill around about this point, which I put down to the gel I was quaffing rather than an aversion to the grassy section. So I changed to my spare one and promptly felt much better.

Around the course there were a fair amount of spectators, so the atmosphere was actually pretty good and it was well marshalled. Sadly, the drinks were in cups.

I enjoyed the run but throughout I had no idea what sort of pace I was running at due to the worst case of mile marking I’ve ever seen. As I religiously took split times at each marker, my watch’s assessment varied from my worst half marathon pace ever to my best. After only four miles and what I thought was a solid start, it appeared I was on for a sole destroying 1:50 yet a few miles later I was on for a life affirming sub-1:40 as I clocked up my ‘fastest’ mile so far on the ascent of Hathern Hill. Eh?

I reached mile 12 in 1:33, indicating a time of 1:41 could be mine, so I upped my pace and powered through the last mile. Which just keep coming and coming and coming. There was no end to it. Finally, after the longest mile in history and a massive eleven minutes later, I crossed the line.

To be sort of fair, they did warn us beforehand that the mile marking was not accurate but is there any excuse for them being so far out? It would not have surprised me in the slightest had I come across mile nine before mile eight. 

So in the end I was three minutes slower than Sheffield, which sounds about right for this sort course.

The T-shirt had the original date on it, which was to be expected of course. The cardinal sin was printing everything on the back. The medal was ok but will go in the box with all the others. The goodie bag though was just full of leaflets and special offers which expired in April and May. You really would have thought they’d have refreshed the goodie bag after the cancelled race, if only to take a marker pen to the expiry dates.

Lakeland Trails Staveley

It always take around about a year for the pain of a Lakeland Trails race to dull enough in order for me to feel ready to enter another one. Today we are at the Staveley 17k race, which is where the Lakeland Trails Empire started out 10 years ago. So happy birthday.

They direct us to the car park from where we walk to the start on Staveley Recreation Ground, which takes us past the conveniently placed Hawkshead Brewery. Which is conveniently, at least for today, no longer in Hawkshead. I smile at it in a ‘see you later’ sort of way.

As we arrive, the 10k-ers are arriving back from their little bit of torture and the children’s fun trail was just setting off. Which looked temptingly simple and gentle because I’m not sure how fit I am for this. 

There’s the dodgy knee of course and to make things worse, I hurt my back pulling some tents pegs out the other day. No idea how, and they say sport is how you get injured. Not true! That has taken a couple of days to recover but seems ok now...

As we register they hand us our souvenir technical t-shirts. They have a nice range of these for all their events. The only drawback being is that we have picked the only event with an orange one, again. They did this to us with Ullswater in 2011.

Then its 1pm, the Kookaburra All Stars Samba Drumming Band are in full drumming mode and L is about to start. She’s in the ‘Challenge’; I start at 2pm in the ‘Race’. Gulp. Before which the Kookaburras oddly go AWOL and then reappear short handed. Presumably the rest were still getting acquainted with the Hawkshead Brewery.

I sort of enjoy the race at first. It’s all uphill but the first few miles are on some blissfully un-Lakeland type tarmac. I bet L hated that bit. Even after then, it's the least rocky, least muddy race of theirs that I've done so far. It's also the hilliest.

When a marshal announces the 10k point I think phew, we’re over half way but no, he means it's 10k to go, not gone. Oh dear and my feet hurt. I probably have the wrong shoes on, I’m wearing very un-cushioned trail shoes but as the ground is so dry and hard normal running shoes would have been fine.

Near the end, they have promised us a ‘Sting in the Tail’. At first I think this is the sequence of unwelcome stiles across the last few fields but no. What they mean is the ascent of something called Reston Scar, which has a grinning photographer at its summit. I don’t grin back.

The plummet down from there to the finish is almost as painful as the climb up was. All that for a secret pudding from the Cartmel Sticky Toffee Pudding Company. Although this proves to be not so secret and is actually the chocolate one L got at their Christmas race. Still I would have given that up for more water and some sports drinks out on the course. It was very hot and I was parched because they only had two water stations out on the course.

I also couldn't find the water at the end and wandered around in ever decreasing dazed circles until L grabbed me and trust a cup in my hand. She was not a happy bunny either, mainly because she'd only just finished, having had an hour’s head start on me. Oops.

Apparently Jonathan Brownlee's training partner won the race. Enough said.

With the race complete, it’s a choice between the proffered complimentary dip in the River Kent or perhaps a dip in the brewery instead. No prizes for guessing what we chose.

Towpath and Trail 10k

Today the Towpath and Trail 10K at the Shireoaks Bowling Club, near Worksop and with a leisurely 11am start.

The route starts off with a little climb through what is now a nature reserve but used to be Shireoaks Colliery. We do a full loop around this before heading back to where we started and then down to the Chesterfield Canal which we head along before looping around a lake and returning pretty much along the same route. There's a bit on tarmac, a bit on grass and a lot on towpath and trail, as you’d expect.

There’s a few of those ‘cyclist maiming’ gates to squeeze through, kissing gates to negotiate and, oh my, two stiles to climb over in the last kilometre, just when that’s the last thing you want to do.

A decent run though, well organised and well marshalled. Although they did let themselves down at the end my making everyone queue to fill their own cups from two water buts. The queue was huge and many like me were at fainting point. The cups were actually souvenir mugs but it would have been even better if they’d pre-filled them.

There were also flapjacks at the end which go down well with us and the dogs. Everyone has a dog with them, not just us and there’s a football field to give them a run on afterwards.

The course is quite tight in places and not fast. I’m not terribly impressed with my time but a placing inside the top 50 of a race of around 250, points to it being better than I thought.

Sheffield Half Marathon

"I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat" - Winston Churchill, House of Commons, 13th May 1940.

Of course he never, to my knowledge, ran a half marathon.

Today we’re in Sheffield, without the dogs, as we’re expecting a fair hike from parking at the Sheffield Arena to the start line inside the Don Valley Stadium. The distance is not too bad in the end but the race isn’t particularly dog friend. This is no great surprise with nearly 6000 entrants.

Starting the race in the stadium is a nice idea, if a little congested. After which it’s a three or so mile tour of some of the least aesthetically inspiring parts of Sheffield. Things pick up when we leave all that industrial dereliction behind and head into the city centre. Which apart from being much better on the eye becomes a bit of a tour of some of our favourite Sheffield watering holes - Ahh the Old House, the Devonshire Cat, over there the Sheffield Tap etc etc.

Also once in the city centre the crowd come into play and the sheer weight of numbers is worth an extra gear. Mind you if the city centre was an extra gear, the Ecclesall Road was a whole extra engine. The support there was simply awesome.

 

There are downsides of course. A race of this stature shouldn't have drinks in cups, which are clumsy and difficult to drink from. I have to stop to drink from them, which costs time. They should also offer sports drinks but the sponges were a positive. I do like a sponge.

I also didn't think the mile markers were terribly visible and missed a lot of them. This made it difficult to keep track of how I was doing and perhaps is why, rather unbelievably, with 2 miles to go I was on for a 1:41.

Then nine minutes to the 12 mile marker seemed to have put paid to anything under 1:43 or so I thought. As the 13 mile point and the condemned Don Valley came into view a few minutes earlier than expected, I come to the conclusion the ‘12’ had wandered from where it was meant to be and a time of 1:41:46 is mine.

Even I’m impressed. I would have taken a time 1:45 in my arms and snogged the life out of it. A 1:41, considering my current state of unfitness, is well... in for a very good night indeed.

L of course has been just as injured, if not more so than me. She had threatened to take a book around to read as she was ambling round. Yet, I think, even she was pleased with her performance. 

We both get a post-race massage which should help prevent those injuries reoccurring.

The stadium finish was great and it’s scandalous that the stadium will not be around to host the race next year. Which poses the organisers a bit of a challenge for the future. Good luck with that.

The wristband at the end was also a nice touch. Not that I spotted them but L did and got me one. Sadly though both the small t-shirts and more horrifically the water had run out by the time she finished and there were still almost a thousand people behind her.

On the whole a well organised and enjoyable race with a nice-ish route, good bits and bad bits like most races. I guessed a race in Sheffield was unlikely to be flat and it certainly wasn't but it was probably as flat as they’re going to get it.