Category Archives: Race Reports

Quantock Beast: race report

by Ben

In the past few weeks, I’ve been making an effort to incorporate more hills into my training. This came about for two main reasons: Firstly at the start of June I ran the Crewkerne 10k, which was an… undulating race that I was woefully unprepared for. Secondly, I’ve recently been looking through my running logs and realised quite how flat the majority of my runs are. Running in Taunton, and primarily along the river and canal, this is hardly a surprise, but all the more reason that I needed to make a special effort.

With some club mates at the start. Credit: Lolly.

So, the Quantock Beast seemed like an ideal opportunity: a small race local race (five miles from home) with a fair bit of climb over a relatively short distance. In the week leading up to the race, I began my “hill hunting” in earnest: last Sunday I tackled (got lost on) Cothelstone Hill, to clock up 258 metres of climbing, easiest my most ever, and then on Tuesday I managed to find 163 metres in a run from my house, which mostly involved trying to run as far from Taunton as I could manage and still get back in time for breakfast. While I’m sure that this will pay dividends with my long-term running development, I did belatedly realise that it perhaps a little foolhardy in terms of short-term race preparation. But then, it’s not like I had a 5.5 mile race time to try and beat!

The race starts and ends at a free admission National Trust property, Fyne Court. This provided a lovely location to mill around in before and after the race, and also an area suitable for my toddler to charge around in while I was racing: something my wife and brother assure me she did plenty of!

Fyne Court, when not full of runners! Credit: Rose and Trev Clough

A short briefing before the race mentioned some of the marshalling and route problems from the previous year, when a variety of routes were run as people went off track in a few different places. We were assured that this year there were plenty of marshals, arrows and marker tape to prevent the problems being repeated. After a further warning about a fallen tree we’d have to clamber over, we were off! I intentionally positioned myself slightly further back in the pack to try and avoid haring off too fast, but the plan back-fired slightly, as after an initial road section, we climbed onto some narrow paths on which overtaking was impossible. I spent a while stuck running slower than I would like, but when the path opened up onto a field, I was able to move through the pack in front of me a little more easily. Around this point, I fell into sync with a runner in a fluorescent vest, and we ran together for most of the next two miles. Which was a steep descent, followed by a long, long, long ascent.

I soon adopted a tactic of run – walking up the hill. For all those around me were running quickly enough that I did drop back when I walked, I found I was gradually making up ground on those ahead of me by doing it. I know some people try to avoid walking during a run, but personally, in a race, I’ll use which ever method I think will get me to the end quickest. Towards the top of the hill, I began to pull away from the runner I’d been with for a while: at the end he told me that he’d tried his best to stay with me, but just hadn’t been able to.

What a face! Credit: Lolly.

The climb got a little muddier towards the top, although the hot weather recently made the terrain much better than it could be. One runner I spoke to on the climb said that things had been a lot worse last year! I passed two more runners during the final stage of the ascent, and slotted in behind a chap from Weston AC as we weaved our way through the trees. At one point, one of the arrows had fallen slightly and appeared to be pointing down the right-hand fork, but the marker tape continued along the left-hand fork, and so we headed that way. (Apparently, not everyone did, and there was a fair bit of moaning and groaning at the end about people going off course “again”! Personally, I felt that the marking was fine, although as I was following another runner through this section I can’t tell for sure whether I’d have gone wrong or not if I was on my own.)

The route dropped downhill from this point, and soon moved onto the road for the last mile. I allowed myself to speed up as we cruised downhill, although I was a little wary that I didn’t know the course well enough to be sure that there wasn’t another climb or off-road section, so I was careful not to push too hard. As it turned out, I ran my fastest kilometre of the year to end the race, and even put in a sprint finish, despite there being no one close in front or behind me. Although I was slightly worried that I would trip over the toddler who ran out into the finish funnel in front of me… yes, my own daughter!

After a chat with a few other members of the club, including a couple that I hadn’t seen at the start, we headed home, to enjoy a well deserved (in my opinion at least) Nando’s!

Tin Tin Ten (2015): race report

by Ben

Prior to this race, I spent a bit of time perusing my race report and Strava details from last year’s race. I made a couple of interesting observations: the second mile had been the toughest, and I’d not helped my chances by sharing a bottle of wine with a pizza meal the night before. To put it succinctly, I had some clear areas in which to improve. So, obviously, this year I prepared for the race by having a takeaway pizza and half a bottle of wine on Tuesday night. Ah. At race registration, further issues presented themselves: the race was reversed, and followed a slightly different course from last year.

So much for race preparation.

Evening races confuse me; wasn’t I meant to be sleeping?! Credit: Keith Rendell

Still, other aspects went a little better: in comparison to last year, when it had pretty much rained non-stop for the week before, and was raining during the race itself, this year was a sun-fest. Solid underfoot, and a lovely warm (but not too warm) evening meant that quick times were in order. I was a little more sensible with my lunch and made sure to rest as much as I could through the afternoon.

If I was to take lessons from this race, the first would be based upon the above: look at last year’s mistakes, and learn from them. The second would be this: at the published start time of the race, be at the start line.

Sounds simple, but at 7 o’clock, most of us were still loitering around in the clearing near the start, and then gradually started meandering towards the start line. We had more or less started clumping together, but not in any sort of order, when suddenly people started running. I didn’t hear a starting klaxon or any shouts, but there was obviously something. Unexpectedly, I found myself much further back in the field than I had wanted to be, needing to weave my way through slower runners. I was far from the only person with this problem, and it caused a little bit of chaos. Especially as not far from the start, we entered a series of narrow paths, and passing was all but impossible.

As a result, I probably went off too quickly, catching and passing a few people that I expected to finish somewhere in the region of pretty quickly. The problem was, having passed them, rather than settle in, I unintentionally maintained my quicker pace, and exerted a little too much energy too quickly. One nice aspect of the reversed course was that the two out-and-back stints were both early in the race. While I don’t mind an out-and-back, they can be pretty demoralising towards the end of a race (this was particularly bad at the Great West Run). Whereas in this case, having them nearer the start was actually quite nice, particularly now that I’m starting to recognise some of the regular runners, and can gauge how I’m doing in comparison to them.

The other main result of the course reversal was that much of the first half of the race was on roads, while the second half was predominantly trail routes across fields. Not only fields, but the hillier part of the course too. Through this middle stint of the race, I was starting to get somewhat annoyed by the “song” going around my head. The latest Pharrell tune, maybe a bit of classic rock? No, the theme song to “Raa Raa the Noisy Lion”, a CBeebies show that my daughter watches. For reference:

Unfortunately, not only was this a slightly irritating tune to have constantly going around my head, but I also didn’t know most of the words. So much I was humming and going “Raa Raa!” Oh well.

Still, although the song was sending me slightly loopy, it did help to distract me from the actual running. Having the more difficult terrain, the stiles and the hills in the second half was tough, and my legs were certainly starting to feel it trying to clamber over those stiles towards the end! Still, I managed to slowly catch and pass runners over the last couple of kilometres. The final kilometre was my fastest of the race, so I obviously hadn’t completely overexerted myself!

I was very happy with a time of 45:29, a few seconds quicker than I’d managed in Crewkerne, and a big chunk faster than this event last year (mainly because of the dry conditions!) In all honesty, I probably preferred it last year, with a bit more of the race off-road, and in wetter, muddier conditions, but it was still a very enjoyable race, and one I’m planning to do again next year.

Crewkerne 10k: race report

by Ben

On the way home from the race, I was chatting on the phone to Lolly, who had stayed at home with our daughter. She asked me how the race was. “You go up, then down, then up, then down, then up a lot, then down, then up, then down, then up a steep hill, then down, then up, and then you finish.” If you’re short on time, that’s the race.

Okay, okay, there’s a bit more to it than that. For me, this race has been a long time coming. Since picking up a knee injury back in January, I’ve had a long road to recovery. I did manage a 10k when we were over on the Isle of Man, but it proved a bit of a false start, and it has taken me another two months to get back out for another. The idea for this race was reasonably simple: get out, run a hard 10k and see how my knee does. The secondary aim was to see what sort of shape I was in. Although I’ve managed to do a few parkruns in the last month or so, I didn’t really have a real idea of what sort of time I could do. Before the race, I tentatively set myself a goal time of around 46 minutes, but that was before I found out quite how hilly the course was. My expectations quickly adjusted to “anything under 50 minutes”.

As well as being an excited return to racing action, Crewkerne was the first time I was using Event Clips to attach my race number. I have to admit, I was a little concerned about them: I was very suspicious about how well they would stay attached. But, I have to say, they were both extremely simple to attach (once I’d taken my top off, at least) and stayed on without a problem. I’d definitely recommend them to anyone who races regularly.

You can just see me in my red sunglasses – honest!

Although I wasn’t aware of any club-mates taking part in the race beforehand, I briefly met Helen (@Happy2bHp) in Race HQ, and then as we were all making our way to the start line, I saw Clive, and we had a bit of a chat. Between Clive and Matt (@bodwen) from Minehead RC I learnt some interesting things about the course, most importantly that although a lasso course, you had to keep running past the start line to reach the finish line. This was valuable information, as it prevented me repeating my embarrassing trick of hitting a sprint finish too early, like I did on the Isle of Man last year.

Despite an announcement that the first man and first woman to reach the top of the hill at the start would receive a prize, I opted for a gentle start to the race (there was never any danger of me beating Kieran to the top anyway!) I was a little rusty at maintaining a race pace, and spent the first few kilometres passing and being passed by the same cluster of runners. However, after a while we all more or less settled into our positions – by which I mean I sorted my pacing out!

The course was run almost entirely on country roads, and climbed out of Crewkerne for a couple of kilometres before looping around the villages of Merriott and Hinton St George, and then coming back down the first two kilometres. As a result, when I was coasting down the first long steep descent, rather than enjoying it, I was instead coming to the horrific realisation that I was going to have to run back up it later. Still, hills are good for you. Or so people keep telling me. The sole drink station was just after the 2 kilometre point, meaning that there were drinks at roughly 2 and 8 kilometres. Stupidly, I misremembered there being another drink station at around 6 kilometres, and opted against a drink at the first station. I rued that decision.

Once the 10k route split off into the loop, the course dropped gently into Merriott, a pretty village that I didn’t pay any attention to at all. Unfortunately, as all runners know, what goes down must come up again, and the course then rose gradually to Hinton St George, another extremely pretty village. It was very much a gentle climb, but as such, the type that you keep trying to run hard along, with the result of slowly tiring you out. You know, even more than normal in a race! From Hinton St George, the course undulated for a while before reaching that final (well, not quite) big climb. By this point we were steadily catching and passing some of the 5k runners, and encouragement was being yelled both ways.

The pretty Hinton St George: not that I noticed!

By this stage, my legs had basically had it. I still had energy to give, but my calves and thighs were struggling. I dropped to a walk for about 10 seconds up the hill, but I managed to stay in the touch with the Yeovil Town runner that I was with. Dropping back down the next hill, the climb from the start of the race, my leg muscles, which would normally be helping to control my descent, had given up, and I basically “fell” down the hill in a mad arm-waving running motion. (Okay, I might be over dramatising this, but it felt pretty out of control.) That descent took us back to the start line… but of course there was still a bit left. And of course… it was up hill. Still, it was nearly the end of the race, and only a short dash to the top, followed by a sprint around the corner to the finish.

Wow – what a return to racing in Somerset! I’d known for a while that I was going to be well under 50 minutes. But as it turned out, I was under 46 minutes: 45:35!! So, some work to be done to get back to PB pace, but I’ve got an idea of where I am now, and more importantly, the confidence in my knee to do it.

Some plaudits have to be given now: the race was exceptionally well organised by Crewkerne Running Club: the course itself was very well laid out, and even included signs showing where each Strava segment started and ended. Personally, I wasn’t about to start segment hunting during a race, but it added an interesting element nonetheless. Similarly, the “king (and queen) of the mountain” is a fun feature, even if one I didn’t have a chance of winning. The water stations were very well organised for a local race like this, and although I would have preferred bottles to cups, I appreciate there is a significant difference in cost. All the marshals were very friendly, which always provides a bit of a boost, particularly in these smaller races. So, would I recommend it? Definitely – just get some hill training in first!

Disclaimer: I paid full price for my race entry and my Event Clips, and was not asked to review either of them. Photo credits: Western Gazette and Nick Chipchase.

Wambrook Waddle

by Lolly

It’s very easy to get pace-obsessed with running. Particularly at times when things are going well and improvements are very visible. But always focussing on your watch takes away some of the simple pleasures of running, and can lead to disappointment. After a string of PBs, I needed to slow down and forget about my finish time. Time to hit the trails then…

The Wambrook Waddle is an off-road 10k through private land in, you guessed it, Wambrook, Somerset. That was pretty much all I knew about it when I signed up. That and the fact you have to go through a river. Pictures of people making a splash somehow made it all seem more fun.

We arrived in the parking field the same time as other members of the club. The marshal organising parking asked us to park further over, as the runners would need to get through. I looked across the grass, down the hill I would go up at the end, and wondered what I’d let myself in for. Race registration was in a beautiful barn. Picking up my number was a fast and smooth process, and pots of safety pins were freely available.

My husband, there in supporter capacity, had been talking to some people about the course, and mentioned to me that it had hills. Which is, of course, just what you want to hear at the start of the race. We headed over to the start, which was marked by a tractor. It was difficult to hear the instructions, as people further back were talking, but I picked up the key points of yellow arrows, red & white tape, and marshals. And then, we were off.

The start of the race was downhill through a mostly grassy field, with the odd rock here and there to spice things up. Not that I really needed it spicing up. Being a certified scaredy-cat I’m not good with steep downhill at the best of times, least of all when it’s off-road. So quite a few people passed me on the way down. At the bottom of that hill lay the moment of truth – the River Kit.

Credit: Paul Masters

For me, the difficulty lay not in the river itself, but in the muddy bank on either side. I couldn’t work out where to get a footing at all, let alone a fast one. Still, I found a route through and made it safely to the other side. Without falling over. Which is more than a lot of people can say (they likely went faster than a tortoise). With the river safely crossed, I started up the other side, blissfully ignorant of what was to come.

The uphill lasted for over a mile. Grassy fields turned into woodland, but the hill carried on regardless. This is the first 10k that I’ve seen with a water station before 1.5 miles. It was a much appreciated water station. A brief respite followed in the form of a flat-ish track, but the uphill woodland continued shortly after. For me, any form of pride at keeping running had disappeared in the river, so almost all of the uphill climb had been a brisk walk. Then something magical happened.

The terrain started to flatten out, and we were running through bluebell-filled woods. It was twisty and turny, with tree stumps threatening to take people out, but it was beautiful. And flat. Suddenly I had a tiny bit of confidence back, and my outlook changed. The route turned downhill, on the sort of bumpy path that normally freaks me out even walking. But somehow I was running down it. Until it got wet and slippy that is. I pretty much ground to a halt then, and was lucky enough to get words of encouragement from some lovely Axe Valley runners who nearly bumped into me in the process.

From this point on, my memory of the route order gets a little hazy, so while these things all happened they may not be in the right places. Reaching the end of one field provided yet another race-first for me, when I worked out that the arrow was indeed pointing for me to climb over a fence (thankfully a short one!). Running along the edge of crop fields was an enjoyable experience. Hard work though.

One memorable slog uphill was on a farm track. In a fit of optimism I was attempting to run, until I realised that the person in front of me was walking and going faster. Needless to say I followed suit. The second water station was very welcome, and the lovely marshal told me I was welcome to keep walking up the hill with my cup, which suited me well.

Note the hills

Although I knew about the river crossing, there were actually 3 water crossings on the route. The third was my favourite, as the ground was solid either side and the water was clear enough to see the rocks. It was actually uphill just before the water, but I made the effort to run through (ok, so there was a camera). Clearly I got a bit too carried away at the excitement of splashing, as I lost my footing heading up the other side. I successfully broke my fall, although my wrist and elbow spent the next few minutes wishing I hadn’t.

I learned a lot as the race went on. I found myself running downhill on grass – at one point I nearly couldn’t stop for a turning. The sorts of uneven surfaces that had fazed me at the beginning started to feel natural. I even started to get better at working out when to run and when to walk. But my legs really struggled, and I realised that I hadn’t eaten anywhere near enough beforehand.

Turning a corner, I could see the field with the cars in. The target was in sight. Until it got hidden behind the hill. One of those wonderful hills that keeps giving more every time you think you’re approaching the top. But eventually the top was there. Faster runners were heading back to their cars. A few of them stopped to cheer me on, which was very much appreciated.

Nearly there!

This just left the short stretch of country lanes to get me back to the barn. The solid, downhill ground, combined with lots of support from faster runners, made for a positive end to a difficult race. Other members of my club were cheering at the final corner, and then the finish funnel appeared. I wasn’t 100% sure exactly where the finish line was, so I kept going until I’d passed all the official looking people.

Someone else was handing out the race mementos – stretchy scarves with the race name on. The barn contained several very cheerful people selling food and drinks. Whoever baked the chocolate brownie was particularly amazing. I joined my fellow club members to cheer other runners home, and to reflect that we didn’t feel cheated at all by the 10k ‘only’ lasting 5.8 miles. That was plenty.

Chard Road Runners should be proud of a wonderfully organised race. Despite the cursing, the legs of lead, and the feelings of inadequacy, I really did enjoy it. Definitely one to put in your calendar for next year,

Round the Tor 10k: Lolly’s race report

by Lolly

This post originally appeared on Ben’s old blog, Running From the Physio.

Ben: My knee injury seems to have come back with a bit of a vengeance, so my running has very much taken a back seat to my wife’s lately. Over the weekend, she ran the Glastonbury Round the Tor 10k, taking my place, and she was kind enough to write up her thoughts for me:

This year started really well for me in terms of running. Training runs got stronger as they got longer, and my parkrun times dropped below the magical 30 minute mark. So of course, just before my first race of the year I got a chest infection. Plans were changed, and I found myself watching the 10k on the Isle of Man instead of chasing a new PB. Thankfully, though, the illness was shorter this time and my strength came right back. Then the plans changed again. Ben didn’t think his knee was up to racing in the Round the Tor 10k, so it was my chance to go instead.

When I agreed to take part in the race I only really knew 3 things about it:
a) it’s 10k
b) it’s in the Somerset Series
c) it doesn’t go up the Tor
The last one was fairly crucial for my decision making process. The night before the race we looked up the course to get an idea of elevation. I’m so glad we did.

Numbers were collected on the morning of the race as they had chips attached. As a slower-than-average runner I very much appreciate any race that uses chip times! We arrived at the Town Hall as other races were setting off. Once we found where to go there seemed to be decent systems in place, but there was definitely effort required to find the right place amongst a mass of people. Thankfully we arrived just as earlier races were setting off – any earlier and I suspect it may have been more difficult.

Saying goodbye to my support crew, I then followed the snake of people making their way to the start. It being my first ‘local’ race I wasn’t really sure what to expect at the start. There were the mats for the chips, and then a couple of people holding a rope across to hold people back. Not quite what I’d imagined, given instructions about who could stand in the first section. I walked what I hoped was far back enough, and then hung around at the side until the start. Which was quite a while really, as we got going at least 10 minutes late. There were some announcements over the PA, but they were pretty inaudible.

But then there was a shuffle forward and the magic moment of running. I started my Garmin a few paces before the line and set off at a very steady pace. Very, very steady. I got passed by a lot of people round the first corner as we headed down towards the Town Hall. That was fine though, as I had a much longer game-plan in mind.

Not sure the girl in purple was impressed.

After the Town Hall, the course headed up the High Street. Up being the key word there. The support here was amazing – definitely boosted by the large gathering of parents and children waiting to do the fun run. At the top of the hill I saw my husband and daughter, and started to settle into a rhythm.

From there the course works its way out to the edge of the town, including a slightly random out-and-back down a side road. Slightly demoralising given the ‘out’ is downhill. Around that point I caught up with a fellow running club member, and we ended up staying together for about half the race which was nice. Once out of the town the setting changed to country roads surrounded by fields. Taking in the views, I happened to look over to my right at a break in the trees and see Glastonbury Tor. It struck me at that point that people travel a long way to see the Tor, and I was lucky enough to be running around it. Possibly a sign of how well things were going that I could think like that.

I’d been watch-watching the whole way. However much I tried to tell myself that any PB would be a great achievement, in my heart I wanted a sub-60. So I was looking to keep my average pace around 9:30 a mile (to allow for me not running the optimal route). After the initial (planned) slower start, I’d got my pace there and kept it until around the 4k mark. And I’d overtaken a fair few of those people who’d sped past me initially. Then… hill.

Ok, so it wasn’t actually too bad a hill. Mostly it was the weather. The day before had been lovely and cold, but this was hot with very heavy air. So the hill seemed a lot worse. I passed a couple more club members on the way up, and the mutual support was a nice morale boost. And the knowledge of a water station at the top helped to keep me going.

Even with the climb and slowing down for water my pace was still where I wanted. Looking at my wrist at the 5k mark I was excited and nervous in equal measure. 30:03. It was definitely on, but there was definitely still more work to do. The rolling country roads reminded me of a recent enjoyable training run. Somehow the distance kept ticking over and my pace didn’t drop.

Around the 7k mark I saw one of our amazing club supporters at the side of the road. Cheers make all the difference, and combined with another water station I felt ready to face the final stages. After a little more undulating country road we reached the town again. My pace had remained on target, and it looked like it would all come down to my time at the 9k mark and the shape of the final section.

Oh look, a big hill. Run around it!

I missed the 9k sign. There were a few worried minutes, but after a while I realised that I must have just missed it. Nothing left to do then but to keep up the pace. What you really want to see at that stage of a race is a sign saying ‘Welcome to Heartbreak Hill’. Oh lovely.

The vast majority of runners ahead of me had slowed to a walk. My tactic was to break it into smaller hills. ‘Run to the red car’. ‘Now run, slower, to the next car’. The hill started to really get to me and I considered whether I’d be better off walking. Then I saw my husband and daughter at the top of the hill and so I had to keep running. My husband shouted something along the lines of ‘I told you it was flat’. I had better things to do with my energy than to make a rude reply.

Passing one of the race photographers it was then well-and-truly the last stretch of the race as it headed downhill back towards the Town Hall. Downhill sections near the end of the race are always great for starting a sprint-finish. The final part of the course was straight, and so the clock could be seen from a way off. I’m terrible at judging distances and knowing how long it will take me to run them. So when I saw the clock time started with 58 I gave it everything I had.

Another of our club supporters was cheering near the end. I fear I may have hardly acknowledged him. All those sprint-finishes at parkrun had taught my legs what to do. Shortly before the line an exhausted wave of emotion hit me. I didn’t need chip timing, I was going to make it on gun time.


This was the better of the sprint finish photos. Honest!

Slightly overwhelmed, I stopped my watch a few paces after the line and slowly walked to collect my medal. It was the shortest finish funnel I’ve seen, and it took quite a lot of determination to locate the water table further down the road. If I hadn’t been assured it was there I’d have given up trying to get through the mass of people. The remainder of post-race treatment was better. Once I actually looked at the medal I realised it’s quite a nice one, which always helps. The results appeared online in a timely fashion, and the official race photos were free to download, making the race amazing value for money.

On a personal level, I left Glastonbury with a slightly surreal feeling of achievement. Oh, and a new PB of course. I can now say I have run 10k in 0:59:13. Yes, I’ve included the hours – I worked extremely hard for that zero!

Done it!

Isle of Man Easter Festival of Running 10k (2015): race report

by Ben

This post originally appeared on Ben’s old blog, Running From the Physio.

Something has changed within me

Something is not the same

I’m through with playing by the rules

Of someone else’s game

Too late for second-guessing

Too late to rest and be done

It’s time to trust my instincts

Close my eyes and run!

It’s time to try

Defying injury

I think I’ll try

Defying injury

And you can’t stop me now!

Roughly a year ago, I completed the 10k element of the Isle of Man Easter Festival of Running, and this year I had been looking forward to taking part in the full festival, including the hill race and the 5k as well. But this hasn’t really been my year for running: prior to travelling to the island, I had completed 35 miles total since 5 January, when I picked up my knee injury. Normally, that would be perhaps a week and a half of training.

So, the ummm-ing and ahhh-ing started. I scheduled in a 5 mile run for the weekend before the race: my longest single run since the injury. It went well, but I still had doubts. After all, 35 miles hardly seems sufficient training for a 10k race. Especially not in such a stop-start fashion. On the other hand, I’d signed up for the Chard Flyer on 1 January, and had to DNS. I’d signed up for the Humdinger Half in February, and had to DNS. I’d signed up for the Bath Half in March, and had to DNS. And those were just the races I had actually signed up for. There were a few others that I’d pencilled in too – you get the idea.

I came to the following conclusions:

I wanted to run the 10k race.
Running the 10k race off 35 miles training was foolhardy.
But I wanted to run it, dammit!
Okay, well maybe just running the 10k race would be okay, if I took it reasonably easy.
Hmmm… how about the hill race and 5k?
Don’t push it, stop being an idiot. Look, there are plenty of races in the next few months you can do with proper training.
But they’re ages away. Strop.

I decided to defer the decision yet further, and base it upon a short run once I’d arrived on the island. Coming the day after over twelve hours of travelling, that run went awfully, giving me the indication that perhaps I should follow my head rather than my heart, and give the whole thing a miss. Needless to say, the next day, my head was given significantly less of a say in the matter. At lunchtime I had that well known pre-race favourite: a burger and a beer. An hour before the race, I was still undecided, causing all sorts of strife for my in-laws, who were trying to work out when dinner should be. Sorry about that.

Inevitably, ten minutes before the race started, I turned up. Which was about the same time as four students from Leeds University. They had been scheduled to come over on the ferry, which had been due to arrive at 14:00. Various problems and delays meant that at 17:00, it was still in Liverpool. By this stage, the students had made a dash to the airport, and caught a last-minute flight over to make the race in time, the plane landing less than 45 minutes before the start of the race!

Race plan, mile one: Take it easy, particularly up the hill.
Race summary, mile one: Stood at the back of the pack for the start. Got stuck behind a group of slow runners. Sped up to get around slow runners. Decided I liked speed, kept going. Got to hill, remembered that I like sprinting up hills. Did so, passing lots of runners. Remembered that I liked passing runners. Watch beeped, 7:46 minute mile. Well that’s okay, that isn’t too fast.

Just under a mile completed, not looking too bad yet. Credit: Dave Kneen.

Race plan, mile two: Actually take it easy, don’t get carried away.
Race summary, mile two: Okay, this is the last real chance to drop out and just go back home. That wouldn’t go well with the wife and in-laws who have adjusted evening plans for race. Feel fine anyway. Keep going. Still passing people; maybe I should have started a bit earlier in the pack. Watch beeped, 7:34 minute mile. Hmm…

Race plan, miles three and four: Start taking it easy, it’s been fine so far, but don’t push it.
Race summary, mile three and four: Long gradual downhill stretch to reach the sea. Downhills are fun too, they are easier, and faster! Might as well let my legs free a bit along this stretch as it is downhill. Course then follows the coastal path for a while. Hmm… three miles is about as far as I’ve run hard lately. Water station: manned by only two people, who only have time to refill plastic cups, not able to hand cups to people. Grab cup, knocking most of water out of it, try to drink the rest of the water from cup, but mostly swallow air. Decide I would have been better without it. Prepare myself for uphill, but discover the course change from last year means that it doesn’t happen. Worry about when it will. Watch beeps, 7:20, 7:24 minute miles. Sod it, I wonder if I can beat my time from last year. Hmm… I wonder what my time was last year.

Looking less fresh running along the coast in Port St Mary. Credit: Murray Lambden.

Race plan, mile five: A bit of climbing, definitely time to take it easy, let’s just get to the end.
Race summary, five five: Oh God, my calves! Breathing fine, heart rate okay, legs leaden. Every step is a preceded by a small argument between legs and rest of body. Pace drops, but still passing people, including some of the university runners, which is a boost. Try not to be too silly, don’t want the embarrassment of watching them all pass me again in a mile. Watch beeped, 7:50 minute mile; slowest of the race, but still far better than I expected at all.

Turning back to home, a rare decent race pic!
Credit: Bill Dale.

Race plan, miles six point two one: Sod it, whatever.
Race summary, miles six point two one: Okay, all downhill from here. Well, except that uphill bit at the end. Damn that uphill bit at the end. Oh, that’s my father-in-law in his back garden. Oh, and my wife. (At this point, I think I went a little delusional: I seemed to come to the conclusion that because I was pretty much guaranteed to finish, I didn’t have to put any more effort in.) I cruised down the final descent to Port Erin bay. Just the curve around the bay left, time to put in a bit more effort. Can’t really be bothered. Don’t really have any effort to put in anyway. Just keep running. People in front getting away, being passed. Don’t like being passed. Should try to keep up. Too hard. Never mind. Get to finish, 47:07. Still don’t remember what I got last year.

Eugh, shouldn’t have turned down the offer from my father-in-law to bring me a hoodie at the end, it’s cold. Thankfully, my amazing wife soon appeared with the hoodie, and even better, we then headed to the Chinese for a takeaway: clearly the best recovery food known to any runner.

Race analysis: Once home, I checked Strava, and discovered that my time last year was 47:00. I’d done that about a month after a half marathon for which I’d trained pretty extensively. Whereas this year, I was seven seconds slower, despite pretty much no training because of injury. So from that point of view, I can take a massive positive in my “base fitness” being significantly better than this time last year. Another positive was simply being able to complete 10k; it was a risk doing the run, and I’d genuinely started unsure as to whether I would finish. On the other hand, I do remain injured: when I’m running it’s fine, but when I’m walking, or even just sitting down, my knee is sore. I’m planning a number of 10k races in the early summer after a few weeks of training, and hopefully that training will work as rehabilitation for my knee. Hopefully.

Brent Knoll: race report

by Ben

This post originally appeared on Ben’s old blog, Running From the Physio.

In mid-October, I completed my second half-marathon, Exeter’s Great West Run (you can read about how I did here), which was my last major race of the year. However, to end my season, I decided to book in the Brent Knoll race. Brent Knoll is a 137 metres (449 feet) high hill a couple of miles from Burnham-on-Sea. Apparently, one of King Arthur’s knights, “Ider son of Nuth”, went to the hill on a quest to slay three giants. Or so says Wikipedia. While I didn’t spot any giants, I can report that the hill itself certainly felt like a giant one!

The race started at a very sociable time: 11:30. I know that it isn’t really a practical time to start a summer race, but at this time of the year, I certainly appreciated the later start. I travelled up on my own, and didn’t know of anyone else doing the race, but as I was idling around waiting for everything to get going, I heard a cry of “Ben”. I ignored it. Yes, I’m called Ben, and yes, that’s what was shouted, but I just assumed it was for someone else. When the shout was repeated, louder, I decided to pay some attention, and saw Rob, Kerry, Chris, Eliza and Louise from my running club!

Louise, Eliza, Chris and me, looking very
clean prior to the race. (Photo credit: Rob Murr)

After posing for a few photos, we headed off to the start line, where I saw a fellow parkrunner, Andy, and had a quick chat to him. Before we knew it though, the (pretty quiet) announcer at the start called 3-2-1-Go, and we shot off. Knowing that Andy tends to beat me at parkrun, I let him ahead of me, but then stuck pretty close behind him. At least, I did until I saw him hopping out of a muddy puddle: his shoe had come off! The route, which heads out from Burnham to Brent Knoll, is flat for the first mile and a half, which I completed in about 7:30 min/mile. The subsequent mile and a half was done at about 10:50 min/mile. That mile and a half included the two significant hill climbs.

The first climb was the smaller of the two, but the terrain made it, in my opinion, much the harder. It was the slowest part of the race, and there were a couple of points that I was genuinely on my hands and feet, scrambling for some, any, sort of grip. More than once a fistful of grass stopped me from slipping back down the slope. To add to the chaos, everyone had their own idea of which route was the best, and this resulted in mass of bodies all frantically trying to just reach the top. Despite my worries that it would only take one overeager person near the top to slip and take us all out, the climb was eventually completed, and the course levelled back out for a while.

I would love to say that the level section allowed me to regain my energy and breath to attack the second hill. Actually, I just ran like a mad person to try and make up for the “time lost” scrambling up the hill, and as a result I slowed to a walk almost as soon as the second incline began. The footing was much better this time though, and after a while there were even steps. Oh, the luxury. Despite this, no one around me looked to even be contemplating running, and I certainly wasn’t going to be the only idiot! But on reaching the top, the first stride off the step was back into a run. No time to stop and admire the wondrous views, ya know, this is a race!

Okay, I did have a glance around and take in what I could, and it was stunning, but I certainly didn’t have the time to do it justice. A quick half loop of the top, and we were heading back down again. For this section of the race I have to thank the chap in front of me, who demonstrated an effective technique which I shamelessly copied. I’m sure all fell runners are aware of it, but it is essentially to continue to lean slightly forwards, and to zig-zag down the hill. The pair of us passed a number of runners as we descended. In the back of my mind, the next descent was starting to loom large: I’d struggled to scramble up it, how the heck was I going to safely get down it?!

Well, as it turns out, with a commando roll.

My mind began to buzz about the hill as we approached it: I didn’t know how people would be attempting it: crawling back down, scrambling, sliding? It turned out, just running. The runner who was now in front of me (not the downhill expert) lost his footing at one point and slid a couple of metres on his bum, and then in the same place, my foot went completely from under me. I have little recollection of exactly how I rolled, but the mud was on my elbow, back and bum. Thankfully, after one roll I was back on my feet, and still running down the hill at pace. Amazingly too, I’m bruise-free!

With that descent safely (ish) navigated, it was just the level slog back to the start/finish, though by this stage, my legs were feeling decidedly tired! With just over a mile to go I was passed by another runner, and after a short argument, I convinced my legs to speed up a little and keep pace with him. I essentially dragged myself along behind him, and then, like the bastard that I am, I found that little bit extra and passed him in a sprint finish.

In fact, I was then told off by Rob and Kerry, as I’d ruined their photos by running too fast. They suggested that I go back and do the finish again to get better ones. I demurred.

I finished with a time of 51:11, which was probably faster than I was expecting to go, although the conditions were probably better than in the past couple of years, which I’d used as my benchmark for times. Andy came in about a minute after me, having lost his shoe twice more during the race: possibly tighter lacing is needed! I was surprised, but pleased, to receive a finisher’s medal, as I hadn’t seen anything about one in the race information!

So, it might have seemed mad to make my celebratory end of season race a muddy hill climb, but all in all, I had a great time, and will probably be back again next year!

Exeter’s Great West Run: race report

by Ben

This post originally appeared on Ben’s old blog, Running From the Physio.

After completing the challenge of running my first half-marathon earlier this year at Silverstone, I knew I wanted to do an autumn half as well. Realistically, I had three choices: Cardiff, Bristol or the Great West Run. Cardiff and Bristol are both flat, fast courses, while the Great West, being in Exeter, is on the hilly side. I chatted to a few people, and after enjoying a few undulating 10k courses, decided to go for the Great West Run.

Oh my God, why?

Okay, okay, it wasn’t actually that bad.

Race vest: ready!

Much as with the Taunton 10k, I didn’t have the ideal preparation: two weeks before the race I spent pretty much the entire week off work sick, and the week directly preceding the race was a six-day week, with Friday and Saturday being taken up entirely with a stock-take. I know, woe is me! All that accounted for, I didn’t feel too bad on the Sunday morning. I had spent the previous evening preparing my race kit: club kit with number attached, some food, drink and warm clothing, nothing too complicated. A 6:30 alarm was a little earlier than usual for a Sunday, but not too bad – especially as my 1-year-old daughter woke us up at 6:20 teething anyway!

Breakfast: Porridge and a glass of water, and by five past 7 I was heading out of the door. Travel and parking passed without any trouble, and I was glad to have parked in a legal place, as walking back to my car afterwards I passed plenty of cars with fixed penalty notices on them. A short walk got me to the race village, where I met up with a friend from Twitter, Matt (@MattUpston) and discussed some race strategy: he knew the course pretty well, and I was happy to take on all the local knowledge that I could!

Heading over to the start, I met up with Al, who I often run with at parkrun: we tend to finish around the same point. I probably have a slight edge at 5k, but he’d run a 1:38 half-marathon earlier in the year, so I knew if he was in that sort of form I wouldn’t have a chance of keeping up! That said, we had decided to head out at around 1:45 pace, i.e. 8-minute-miles, and then see how it felt.

As you can see, we didn’t really stick to that plan. The first mile was downhill, so running a quicker time along that wasn’t an issue, and actually it felt good. After that we settled into a slightly slower pace, and although it might not meet the official definition of “conversational pace”, we did (perhaps stupidly) proceed to have a conversation for more or less the first seven miles of the race. This did get us a few odd looks: apparently chatting is frowned upon at that pace.

Splits courtesy of Strava!

I struggled with the Little Miracles energy drink, which was at seven miles: it was sweet and sickly, and with the lid removed, the hole to drink from was the size of a milk bottle top! I took two gulps, accidentally spilling it all over my top, and then gave up on it.

There had been a few ups and downs during the first half of the race, but with the exception of a couple of sharp hill at around the three mile mark, they had been pretty friendly. This changed as we approached eight miles. This hill I already knew about: around 150 feet up towards the university. My wife studied at Exeter, so I had plenty of experience of this part of the course, and while that didn’t help physically, it was nice to know what I was facing. It was especially nice to know that after reaching the university entrance, the road drops and then climbs again, something that had a few other runners around me cursing.

I think it’s fair to say that at this point Al and I both felt we were holding the other back, but amazingly we had managed to hold our pace at around 7:40. Strava suggests this was a “grade adjusted pace” of 7:19 and 7:09, and that might have contributed to my later struggles. Despite being a warm morning, from around this point I started to feel quite cold; the hairs on my arms stood up and I shivered a few times. I knew this was likely due to a fuelling failure of some kind: whether I didn’t have enough sugar, water, or just energy I don’t know, but it clearly wasn’t a good sign. I opted for the not-very-sensible tactic of ignoring the chills and continuing along with Al.

I started to really struggle over the next two miles: I was shocked when I looked at my splits after the race and discovered that they remained around the 7:40 mark. I had been warned that the out-and-back leg along Pinhoe Road was hilly, but I had relegated it to “undulating” in my head. I managed to keep running the whole of the out leg, but as we climbed back up a hill approaching 12 miles, I told Al to head on, and dropped to a walk. After about 20-30 seconds, and spurred on by a passing runner, I started running again, but dropped down to a walk twice more over the next half mile. Another runner, whose top announced him as Paul, also walked bits, and we geed each other along for a while. Amazingly during all of this, I managed to keep Al in sight, and after taking on some water I thought I might be able to chase him back down before the finish.

I didn’t manage it: he kicked on for the final sprint after the 13 mile marker, and although I did similar, I didn’t have enough to close him down. For the first time at the end of a race, I threw up within a few steps, but thankfully after sipping at the offered water, I was feeling pretty okay again within a couple of minutes. I obviously looked in a bit of trouble, as one of the marshals at the end hovered over me, asking if I was okay, and if I needed a medic. Thankfully it didn’t come to that!

My time was 1:41;52, just five seconds behind Al in the end, and over ten minutes quicker than my only previous half-marathon attempt. I had mixed feelings at the end, the massive PB was obviously great, but I’d been quietly hoping for a sub-1:40 time, which I’d been on track for until those final couple of miles. That said, it was a hilly course, and I’d clearly messed up with my preparation somehow, so I was glad that having ignored my chills, I hadn’t ended up in an ambulance.

I’d like to experiment with gels before my next half, as that might provide a decent alternative to relying on race-provided energy drinks during a race. Similarly, a slightly shorter and less stressful working week leading up to the race would be nice! This morning, looking back, I’m really happy with my time on that course.

Have you ever had the chills during a race, even when it wasn’t cold?

How do you fuel before and during a half marathon?

Taunton 10k: race report

by Ben

This post originally appeared on Ben’s old blog, Running From the Physio.

I came into the Taunton 10k without too much expectation. I’d only entered the event because my wife was running it, and she’d been forced to miss it due to ongoing chest problems. About a month earlier, I’d smashed my 10k PB, dropping it from 46:40 to 43:44, and in all honesty I felt like that run had been a bit of a flash in the pan. I certainly didn’t feel at all confident that I could reproduce it on the undulating course in Taunton. To add to this, I’d done some canoeing on the Friday night, and my legs felt all kinds of awful on Saturday. So it came as something of a surprise when I turned into the final stretch of the race and saw that the timer read 43:32, and I should get a move on. But I jump ahead of myself…

My own training had been a little haphazard for the month between the Battle of Sedgemoor 10k (BoS) and this one. I’d felt really sore for a few days after the BoS, and hadn’t got back out running until the following Friday, and then after only a few days of training, I picked up a nasty stomach bug which put me out for another week. That out of the way, I managed to get back into some sort of rhythm with my running, but wasn’t feeling as strong as I had before BoS. With a half marathon coming up in mid-October, I was worried about my long runs, and had considered squeezing this 10k into the middle of a longer run, sacrificing a good race time here for some valuable mileage. I managed to get a 10 mile run in the weekend before the race, and decided that gave me confidence enough for the half-marathon, and I could focus on the 10k as it deserved.

Running Forever RC were out in force for this race! *

I completed 5 one-mile reps at the track on Monday, at just slower than my intended race pace, and then went for a relaxed club run on the Wednesday. I skipped my normal Thursday run, and intended to go for a very relaxed parkrun with the buggy on Saturday morning. Canoeing aches scrapped that plan! Sunday morning I still felt pretty sore, but decided that I would go out and try to consolidate with a morale-boosting sub-45 time. Despite being my home 10k, I didn’t really know the course very well, having never managed to take part before (but with a couple of DNSs).

The undulations started almost immediately, and my confidence took a bit of a hit: with my sore legs, even the relatively mild inclines were burning, and it was only the first mile! I slotted in behind a couple of guys I knew ran around my pace from parkrun, and just focussed on not letting them get away from me. The first three kilometres went through residential Taunton, before a climb over the motorway and off towards the village of Stoke St Mary, which was roughly halfway around. As always, my pacing could do with some work: my first mile was the quickest of the race: 6:52, but then I settled into a pace just over 7-minute miles.

The support around the whole course was incredible, even through the country lanes there was a surprising number of people out to cheer us along, and being a member of a Taunton running club, Running Forever RC, I gained benefit from the “home support”. I won’t pretend that I knew even half of the people who cheered me on with cries of “Go Running Forever!”, but they all helped. As we rose over the motorway for the second time, I was buoyed by both the knowledge that this would be the last incline, and encouragement from club-mates Nadine and Dave: although the suggestion that I made it look “effortless” might have irked, I was certainly not finding it such!!

Effortless? Effortless?! Okay, I might like a little more relaxed than I felt… *

All that was left was a drop down the other side of the motorway and then a flat run for the line: but I couldn’t get too excited, there was still most of a kilometre left! I pushed on, pulling away from a lady that I had passed going up the hill, and soon found myself in no-man’s land: I couldn’t see any runners ahead of me, and there was no one close behind me. I hate that situation at the end of a race: I like a bit of a personal challenge: to either chase someone down, or to keep ahead of someone, so it was only when I turned that final corner and saw that I was on course for a PB that I had incentive to push on and actually sprint the final twenty or so metres.

I stopped my watch at 43:40, four seconds inside my previous best, and the following day it was confirmed as 43:39. So, despite not really feeling too positive about it before, either mentally or physically, it went pretty well! It has definitely given me a mental boost, knowing that my time at BoS wasn’t a one-off. I don’t have any 10k races scheduled for a while now, so this PB will hang around for a bit, but I now have confidence that I’m continuing to strengthen and improve as a runner, and hopefully by the next time I race the distance I can take a bit more off again!

In the mean time, I’ve got Exeter’s Great West Run (half marathon) in the middle of October, which is dominating my training for the next couple of weeks, and I’m taking part in a winter 5k series in Street, where I’m hoping to go sub-20 by the last race.

* Photo credits: Lainey Whitworth and Nadine Prouse.

Battle of Sedgemoor 10k: race report

by Ben

This post originally appeared on Ben’s old blog, Running From the Physio.

In many ways, my last five months have been spent gearing up for this race. I didn’t necessarily have a specific training plan laid out for it, but this was my focus race. During that time, I raced four other 10k events, and set two new PBs, inching my best time down from 47:25 to 47:00 to 46:40. But the Battle of Sedgemoor is known as a PB course, and I had my sights set on a significant new record: sub 45 minutes. Of my three resolutions for 2014, this was the only one I hadn’t yet achieved.

Things started badly: a month or so ago I re-sprained my right ankle playing football, and I still haven’t completely shaken the niggles off. A fortnight before the race, I hurt my left foot on a tempo run. Neither was particularly major, but between them they caused me to severely drop off my mileage in the couple of weeks before the race. I even considered taking painkillers for the race itself, but decided that I really didn’t want to start down that road.

Onto race day: despite being my fifth 10k of the year, this race represented something new for me. This was the first time I would truly be racing as part of my club. Although I had done two other races since joining, there were no other club members at those races, so I was still on my own. This race had a new feel: at 9:30 we were meeting up in Taunton, to head over to Langport in convoy. This meant that at about 9:15 I had to frantically go to the petrol station to make sure I could make it to Langport!

Still, it wasn’t that different: park, find race number, pin race number on, idle around, have club photo taken (okay, that was a bit different), wander over for pre-race briefing, head to start line.

So… I have a tree growing out of my head… (Photo: M. Lomax)

At the start line, disaster two struck. (To recap, disaster one was a couple of foot injuries.) Disaster two had the potential to be much, much worse. My Garmin simply would not find any GPS. This was an issue: on the back of my hand I had written pacing notes, but they would mean nothing if it didn’t get some satellite signal. It’s safe to say I was in a bit of a panic. Thankfully, another member of the club, Andy, was also aiming for 45 minutes, and another wasn’t far behind, so I was able to initially judge my pacing off theirs to an extent.

I’d looked at the course profile before the race, and knew that the first mile to mile and a half of the race was a gentle climb. My plan had been to take this gently and then push on, but with no pacing data, I think the first kilometre was at sub 7 minute miles, and the second not much slower. Finally, about 2.5 km into the race, my Garmin started! It was useless as a stopwatch, but it allowed me to keep an eye on my pacing. I was still running with Andy, though typically one or the other of us was a few paces ahead. At the 4 km marker, I asked for a time check: 17:30: about 30 seconds quicker than I needed to be for 45 minutes. And looking at my pacing, I was still running quicker than I needed. I figured I was either doing pretty well, or was about to crash and burn.

At 4.5 km was the first drinks station: I took a plastic cup, just about managed to avoid spilling the whole thing. I then took a tiny sip, more to wet my mouth than actually drink anything, and dunked my hand into the water so I could splash my face. The next drinks station came up far too soon afterwards, at around 6 km, and I opted not to take another drink; a decision apparently shared by more or less everyone around me, as we all arrowed straight through the middle of the offering arms.

It was around this stage that I started to pull away from Andy; I knew that I was still running ahead of my target pace, and I was still a little worried about that, but I felt good, and let myself be dragged along by the other runners around me.

I must admit, I had forgotten about the incline at 7.5 km. I certainly wish the course had forgotten about it too: that hurt. Still, it is a fact that on a course that finishes more or less where it starts, any ups have corresponding downs, and the last kilometre was mostly downs. Although I hadn’t had a real time-check since the 4 km mark, I knew my pace had been good since, and I could cruise the last kilometre, but on the other hand, I was still feeling pretty good, so I notched the pace up a little, which brought me close to the chap in front as I approached the finish funnel. Always one for a bit of a fast finish, I pushed to pass him through the funnel: unfortunately the cheering crowd let him know what was happening, and so he sped up. I ended up in a flat sprint; perhaps not the most sensible thing, but brilliant fun! I pipped him to the line (though our times were identical).

In all the excitement, I hadn’t actually looked at the finishing clock: having crossed the line and been handed my medal, I’d found a spot in which I didn’t think anyone would mind too much if I threw up (I didn’t, as it turned out) and then got a cup of water. By the time I glanced back, it showed 44:05. I’d done it!

Looking at this, it’s possible that the other chap didn’t put quite
as much effort into his finish as I did. (Photo: M. Lomax)

I returned to the finish line in time to see Andy come through in just under 45 minutes, which meant that I didn’t have to feel guilty about possibly dragging him along too quickly at the start! From there, our club runners came through regularly, and set a dizzying array of PBs.

As the photo shows, my time was actually sub-44: 43:44 in fact, almost a three minute improvement on my previous 10k best, and significantly quicker than I was aiming for. Maybe running without any pacing information at all for those first 2.5 km, and then only limited information helped me: I’ve suspected for a while that the mental aspect of “But I can’t run that fast!” when I look at my pacing might have been holding me back. Recently Sarah (@littlerunnergal) posted, or at least re-tweeted, something about running “naked”, and maybe there is some benefit in it. That said, I’m still planning on taking my Garmin along to my next race.

Shiny medal!

But for now, there are four months of the year left, and I’ve achieved all of my targets for the year already. Should I relax a bit and just run for the fun of it, or should I set new targets and go about hitting them?