Humber Coastal Half Marathon

Today we drive up to Cleethorpes to take part in the second running of the Humber Coastal Half Marathon. To be fair we both need the practice or perhaps we were both just swayed by the offer of a 99 ice cream when you finish. Possibly the best goodie bag ever, assuming that they don’t actually put it in the goodie bag. That could get messy.

The race all started very promisingly for me as we headed out of Cleethorpes, through a caravan site and on to the open road. I was sticking as closely as I could to the 1:45 pacer but he was one of those who doesn’t stop at drinks stations and doesn’t vary his pace through them either.

So our group of 20 or so fragmented rapidly once we hit the first drinks station. By the time we’d managed to catch him and reassemble about a mile later we were about six men\women down. The same thing happened at the next drink station but again I got back on and we went though 8 miles in 1:04. I was on pace for a 1:45 finish.

Then suddenly it became clear that I had missed out on reading one key part of the race instructions. The bit that said this was a multi-terrain race. So mile nine saw us heading down a farmer’s track which got progressively rockier and rockier as we approached the coast. I simply wasn’t going to risk my ankles by keeping up with our esteemed pacer, so I had to back off.  

I thought maybe I could catch him up again later but no. The rocks gave way to about two miles on uneven grassland along the coastal path and then we briefly (thankfully) ended up on the beach before finally I was able to sink to my knees and kiss terra firma again. Then it was back to Cleethorpes and a finish on the sea front.

So no, I didn’t get to see him again and I finished in 1:47:49 but I still had two ankles and a well earned ice cream.

Great North Run

We are away for the second weekend in a row and once again heading northwards by train, this time via Sheffield just in case L fancies popping for a parkrun again like last year (but she declines). This time we are not passing through Newcastle but disembarking there. It’s Great North Run weekend.

We stay at the oddly name Sleeperz hotel, which is nicely central and only a few doors down from a decent micro pub, the Split Chimp. Where we meet other Great North runners hydrating on the beer. We meet two people from Nottingham, one a runner sporting the same Robin Hood Half t-shirt as me, the other a non-runner who’d moved to the area.

Sleeperzzzzz do us a decent pasta buffet for Saturday night which is very welcome but sadly they don’t provide a working air-con which just dumps water all over our floor. They don’t seem too apologetic when I report it to them when we check out.

We do make it to the official race village and pasta party this year but aren’t terribly impressed with either although I do pick up a Great North hoodie to replace my rather lived in Vitruvian one.

On race day we are again central enough to walk to the start where I bag my usual space near the front and then say farewell to L who has to trudge several miles back to find her start. We agree to meet in the beer tent afterwards.

The race goes well, if you class 13.1 miles uphill as well. It’s not supposed to be all uphill but it certainly feels like it. The beer stop at 10 miles is so welcome I gab two cups full.

My time is 1:51, four minutes slower than the hilly windy Faroes. Perhaps I over-hydrated in the Split Chimp? Perhaps I under-hydrated in the Split Chimp? Perhaps I’m just unfit?

Then I queue for a massage, for longer than I would have liked because there’s now a big queue at the beer tent. I buy three pints. One each for L and I, and another for me while I wait.

L arrives looking not quite as enthused as she did after the Faroes Half. Then we discuss tactics on how to get back to Newcastle while avoiding the usual two hour Metro and/or ferry queue.

There are direct buses from the finish to Newcastle, called the R1, and we give that a go. There are plenty of buses and we take advantage of the chaotic queuing system. Each bus seems to have it’s own queue but everyone by default is joining the queue for the first bus. So we get on bus two, sorted.

The bus is quicker but it isn’t that pleasant. The weather is warm, the bus is badly ventilated and it has to take a roundabout route due to the road clothes. One chap looks ready to vomit while I’m considered fainting in solidarity with him. We both make it through in the end although that experience makes the run seem a doddle.

Vagar Half, Faros Islands

Race day is windy but dry. Our hotel is about the half way point on the half marathon route but first we have to drive up to the assembly point at Giljanes school in Sandavágur. From there they bus us the whole length of the course to the start in the village of Gásadalur. There are two starts, one for walkers at 8.30 and one for runners at 9.30. There are a lot of walkers.

The whole route is stunning and an experience but no experience is like the start which is downhill from Gásadalur then back up into a tunnel which must have been a km long in the dark. Thereafter we hug the coast, go past our hotel, through the airport and then onwards past a Johnny Cash impersonator to the finish by the church in Sandavágur.

It's not a fast course by any stretch of the imagination but I’m very pleased with my 1:47. Ten minutes quicker than my Erewash time.

We adjourn to the school were we are treated to the local Hiddenfjord salmon, lots of homemade cakes and coffee. Then it’s back to the hotel for the post-race debrief and to crack open a few of the local beers.

Erewash Half Marathon

The Erewash Half Marathon is a point-to-point race in the same style as the long running Birmingham Black Country Half Marathon.

In this case you are bussed out to the start at Langley Mill and then we are tasked with running back along the canal towpath all the way to West Park Leisure Centre in Long Eaton. The race uses a time trial format, setting everyone off in small groups with the fastest going first to limit congestion.

My start time is 9.15 but I am told to catch a bus at 7.20. I’m in the fourth start but I have to get the bus with the first three starts. L starts at 10.00.

Not that the bus leaves at 7.20. They are supposed to have two buses but only one of them turns up, then we come across the other bus with its hazards on close to J26 of the M1. The buses do look like antiques.

Eventually I start and it’s a pleasant enough run if you discount the fact that the route along the canal is actually only about 10 miles and not 13.1. So after about 8 miles we depart the canal, do an extra loop around some footpaths and then make up the rest of the distance doing a big loop of West Park before the finish. Why not just make it a 10 miler...

The other problem is of my own making, namely my lack of fitness. This is my first half marathon since my ill fated attempt at the Sheffield Half in April and I struggle, boy do I struggle. I walk loads and finish in an eye watering 1:57.

They hand me a shot glass at the finish, which sadly turns out to be full of sweets, and a t-shirt with the logo printed on the back, oh dear.

Knowing that, due to the staggered start time, L will be a while I crawl into the car and head home to fetch the dogs. Then I craftily find a gullible 10 year old to chuck their balls for them while I get back to rolling on the floor in agony and wait for L. 

L comes in moaning about her fitness almost as much as me...

Port Glasgow 10k

We took in the Port Glasgow 10k at the end of a ten day holiday in Scotland where L had also run the Dunoon Half which due to my recent injuries and damp weather I declined to do.

We stayed at the seaside resort of Largs just down the road and headed up to Port Glasgow on the day. Sadly the weather wasn't a lot better than in Dunoon, possibly worse even, as we both finished in driving rain as we got the first wet weather of the holiday.

It’s good to get back into action though and a time of 48:34.

Thunder Run 2018

So it’s, TR24, as apparently they now call it and it’s the event’s 10^th year. Happy Birthday Thunder Run. Thankfully last night’s rain was as brief as it was unexpected and we don’t get another event like last year’s when the rain simply didn’t stop. So the several pairs of grippier shoes that I have brought with me, just in case, don’t get to come out to play as the ground is like concrete.

Once again L and I are in a team of five and our team consisted of the completely injured (me), the just getting fit again after being injured (L), our seemingly a little more reluctant each year team captain, a first timer and the first timer's super keen husband who was drafted into last year’s team at the last minute and loved it. Frankly, we're probably all tempted to leave him to it.

There’s also the teams of eight, pairs and the truly mad folk who do it solo. As ever it all kicks off at 12 noon and for the second year in a row I get to lead off.

I don’t mind doing the first lap, as this is the only lap that you can really call a ‘race’. After lap one, you have no idea what agenda the other runners on the course have. E.g. which team category they are part of, how many laps they are doing\have done or whether they even care. Instead everyone eventually becomes a sleep deprived comrade in the trenches. Life long friendships and relationships have most probably been formed between people who met through such adversity at TR24.

As I take my place on the start line, I have everything well strapped but especially my ‘broken’ ankle on which I haven’t run in a month but which probably needs a least another month to mend properly. I tell a small lie, I did jog to the bus yesterday to test it out and that wasn’t pleasant. Fingers crossed I can at least complete a lap.

So off I go across the field in front of the crowds and up the first big hill through the trees. I get as far as the 1k point before some creature decides to bite me on the leg, my good leg, an insect I assume. Ouch.

So now I’m hobbling on both legs as I head downhill to where the course goes through the campsite before heading back out into the wilderness. My lack of training and the heat means I struggle from the off and resort to walking at several points around the ‘not flat’ course. The heat means I am never more grateful to see the water station at around halfway.

After which is the main section through the trees which I wasn’t looking forward to. This is where I came a cropper in the dark two years ago and this is where all the tree roots are. Therefore there are plenty of opportunities to re-fracture my ankle.

Finally that section is done and I’m climbing\crawling up onto the plateau above the main site before the route descends again and turns back on itself as it head back to camp. This is where I fell in the wet last year...

I make it unscathed back into campsite, past the pompom girls\boys and up the final incline. Then it’s back down to the finish and the changeover point to pass on the snap baton. Job done. 54:35. Which is slower than all three laps two years ago and slower than the drier two last year but I made it round.

I visit the St John’s tent to show them my insect bite. They are very impressed and hand me an ice pack that this time doesn't come with a spell in detention. Then with L due to head out as our number three, I go for a pint on the beer bus. As all runners know, hydration is everything.

When I go out again five or so hours later, it is to record a 57:50 and my night lap is a shocking 65:29 but this was partly because my head torch packed up at 6km with the most difficult sections still to come. I had to resort to running in other people’s lights which probably got me a bit of a reputation as a stalker.

Then I do an only marginally quicker 65:15 in the morning. I would loved to have done a fifth but the body said no.

In 2016 with a team of eight we manage 21 laps in total and with a smaller but potentially quicker team of five in 2017 we had high hopes of beating that. Then came the rain and we managed only 19. So this year we should have been able to have pushed it out beyond 19 but sadly we only made 19 again. This was due to some of us being half fit, having a novice who had to be cajoled into her second run having hated the first but then did brilliantly, actually managing an impressive four full laps and some questionable tactics.  

Still it was another fun packed Thunder Run weekend although a bit less fun packed without the mud and after which, after three years in a row, we handed in notice of our retirement from the event, at least for a few years.

Nottingham Grand Prix Race 1 - Rushcliffe 4 Mile

Tonight is race 1 of the Nottingham Grand Prix at my most un-favourite place, Rushcliffe Country Park. It sees me coming.

I hate running on the grit at Rushcliffe and continually ask myself ‘why am I doing this?’. I run on the grass verge to avoid the grit, clip a hole (I think), slip and twist my ankle. I hobble for a bit but then abort the race as my ankle is quickly growing a huge appendage on one side.

I ask the St John’s Ambulance people for an ice pack but instead they grab hold of me, haul me into the ambulance and bandage me up. I am then embarrassingly wheeled in a wheelchair to the car park and sent to A&E. Not that I go. It’s only a sprain after all, I think.

The next day my foot is a nice shade of purple, so... I think race 2 of the series on Thursday at Holme Pierrepoint might be a non starter.