Tag Archives: Race

Shepperdine Marathon: race report

by Ben

Background and training summary

I’m both not that keen on running long races, and honestly not that experienced at it. Of the 85 races I ran from 2012 to 2020, only one was longer than 20 miles (the Snowdonia Trail Marathon) and fourteen were over 10 miles (around 16%). In fact, since running Snowdonia in the summer of 2018, I did 19 races, the longest of which was a 10-miler. Over half were 10k races. Through the summer, I often raced two or even three times a month.

So when Covid returned in winter 2020, my first thought was to keep working on what has been a target since 2017: a sub-40 minute 10k. But… I also had a crazy thought: without the continuous grind of 10k races, maybe I could train for a marathon…

I had got into a good training groove through the latter half of 2020, hitting good (for me) monthly mileages:

July: 113 miles
August: 130 miles
September: 138 miles
October: 128 miles
November: 100 miles
December: 103 miles

My overall mileage was okay, but my long runs sat at around 10 miles, so in January and February I started to work them up a bit longer; 14, 15, 17, 14, 18, 20… and then we moved house, roughly a month before the race. Let me tell you, moving house just before a big race is not ideal preparation! But still, my monthly mileages remained okay:

January: 102 miles
February: 123 miles
March: 111 miles
April: 115 miles (including the marathon)

Pre-race

As I mentioned above, my only previous marathon was off-road and went over Snowdon. So I didn’t have anything like a representative time. Based on my 10k times race converters suggested I could run something around 3:15, but I am well aware of my own capabilities and experience. As well as very rarely running longer races, I know that my body just isn’t that well suited for it. So I added a bit on, rounded it off, and came up with a target of 3:30.

This was quite a personal target – mostly I was telling people that I just wanted to get a good representative time, and would be happy with whatever I got if the race felt like it went well. You know, that rubbish.

Due to Covid restrictions, the race was pretty barebones, which honestly suits me quite well, as I’m used to small local races anyway. I’ve never really fancied the idea of a big city marathon. My only real concern was what looked like a lack of hydration stations, so I resolved to train with, and expect to race with, a hydration vest (actually a Montane VIA Jaws 10 litre pack for those interested, with bottles, not a bladder).

On race day, I arrived with a fair amount of time, and as it was a rolling individual start, I could more or less start at any point within a two-hour window, although I did have a recommended start time. My only real concern at this point was that after a couple of months of training in wet, cold conditions, the sun had come out in force, and it was that typical ‘London Marathon April Sunday’ – one of the first “hot” days of the year. And… for reasons, I didn’t end up putting sun cream on.

The race

One of the nice things with targeting a 3:30 marathon is that the pacing is pretty simple. It is pretty much 8 minute miles. Mentally, this is a comfortable pace for me to run over distance; the group I lead with the running club runs at 7:30 to 8:00 pace, and anything at “effort” is normally between 6:45 and 7:15. So I headed out with a plan of aiming for around 7:50 per mile, hoping that would be easy enough, while still giving me a bit of a time buffer in case I slowed towards the end.

So, obviously, my first mile was 7:36, followed by a 7:29. But honestly, it felt pretty nice and comfortable, so I decided to sort of stick with it; I decided to ease back a little, but settle at around 7:40. The course was an extended lollipop: a 5.5-mile ‘stick’ with three five-mile loops, and then back along the stick to the finish, just beyond the start. The overall course was pretty damn flat – my Strava recorded 417 feet across the whole thing, but the out-and-back “stick” did have some noticeable rises and falls. They all felt pretty friendly on the way out though!

The rolling start meant that I was continually passing people, and quite often being passed by others – there was no real way of gauging your pace other than simply by feel and your watch. Even so, I managed to run pretty consistently: according to Strava my first five 5km splits were 23:33, 23:54, 23:52, 24:09 and 24:18. That took me to just over 16 miles, and the start of the third loop.

Ah… the marathon runner’s grimace. Yeah… this was about 20 metres in.

The looped nature of the course had been a little bit of a worry – especially as at one point it had been advertised as a five-lap route! But I knew that the marathon would be as much as mental fight for me as a physical one, so I just viewed it as another part of the battle. And honestly, while it was a little bit difficult (I won’t lie, towards the end of that second loop, I was quite tempted just to call it quits and head back), it was fine.

Starting that third loop, my mile splits had slipped to around 7:50, but I wasn’t really that worried. I was still splitting under 8:00, which meant I was still gaining time on my target of 3:30. I figured that with some slower miles towards the end, I was looking at a good chance of somewhere around 3:25, and was feeling pretty happy with the idea. Maybe this marathon lark wasn’t as bad as it seemed?

So, of course, then things started to go a little bit wrong. I got little niggles of cramp in my right leg; both my hamstring and groin. Nothing too bad, but worries in my head. I was drinking plenty of water, but it was hot, I was sweating a lot, and probably hadn’t been taking on gels regularly enough. The combination of the hot sun and the wind, which was quite a strong headwind on the latter half of each loop was getting to me, mentally as much as physically.

My splits began to slip more, but I still wasn’t too worried, I had time in hand. 8:10, 8:06, 8:19, that’s fine, I can manage that. Then, just as I was nearing the end of mile 21, disaster. My left hamstring cramped up completely. Just seized – I couldn’t run, I couldn’t walk. Heck, I couldn’t really move my leg at all. I could see the 21-mile marker just ahead of me, but it didn’t matter, I couldn’t move.

But then I had a bit of water, took a bit of time, stretched my leg out, and managed to start slowly walking. As I did so, it freed up, and I could walk more naturally, and eventually start running, slowly, again. Physically, I was back in action, but mentally, I was thrown. I still had over five miles to go, and I was limping along. The aid station was only about half a mile back – shouldn’t I just go back there, DNF and get a lift back? Did I really want to hobble another five miles?!

I kept going, but I was hyper aware of my hamstring (and any other potential cramping muscles). I was mentally broken, the fatigue of the marathon catching up with me. I was run/walking, not necessarily because of the injury, but just because it had all become too much. The next four miles came in at 9:18, 9:25, 9:05 and 9:46, and hopes of sub-3:30 were gone. That knowledge made things worse – mile 25 was an 11:01. I just couldn’t really be bothered anymore.

Then, I knew I was getting closer to the end. I was still run/walking, but I knew I just had a mile and a bit to go, and you know what, I could still get some sort of time. A 9:35 for mile 26 was hardly setting the world alight, but mentally I’d won, I had come back from the darkness. I actually cracked out something of a sprint finish, sort of, at the end.

I finished in a time of 3:37:21, and once I got over the initial disappointment of the wheels falling off, I was happy enough with it. Sure, it isn’t the best I could do. But you know what, that’s the marathon. Two YouTubers that I follow both did marathons that day (in fact one did Shepperdine), and neither of them went to plan. Sometimes, rarely, the perfect marathon happens. But mostly, it goes wrong to varying degrees, and that’s what happened to me. You live, you learn, you improve.

So, does that mean I might give the marathon another go? Maybe. I’ve got that itch to try again, to fix the things that went wrong and to get that sub-3:30. But… I still hate long runs.

Run Exe Winter 5: race report

by Ben

Within reason, I’m racing more or less anything I can find at the moment, given the dearth of races. But that said, this race was organised by City Runs, who I’ve always heard good things about, and was along Exmouth promenade, which is as flat as you can get. As an added bonus (of sorts) I’ve never raced a 5 miler before, so it was a guaranteed PB!

The race did have two potential downsides: it was on a Tuesday evening, and racing is always slightly tougher in the evening; and Exmouth promenade is very exposed to the weather, so if there was any wind, it would have an impact on my race.

This event was a trial race, ahead of a planned monthly series. My current running is all based around improving my 10k time, and a 5-mile race is a great substitute for the 10k distance, so hopefully I can get as many of these done as possible to benchmark my progress (weather and Covid-depending, of course).

Race day

Things worked out quite conveniently, and I was actually doing a training course at home on race day, which meant that I wasn’t as exhausted as I might have ended up. It also meant that I was a bit more in control of what and when I ate, so really I had close to ideal preparation. I took my weekend runs pretty easy ahead of the race, and was rewarded with the rarely seen “Peaking” from my Garmin: result!

I headed down in plenty of time, and arrived on the promenade about 50 minutes before my start time. The race was organised into waves of six runners, each released a minute apart. I was in the fourth wave, giving me a 7:03 start time. I had a little wander around, used the toilet, and then warmed up along the course, just to get a feel for the route. (Sure, it was just along the promenade, but it was also getting pretty dark, so I wanted to check out how good the pavement was and stuff…)

The race was twice out-and-back along the promenade, so each leg was 1.25 miles. The wind had died down from earlier in the day, and was also coming off the sea, which meant that for most of the course it was a cross-wind, rather than a headwind, though it did feel slightly against you on each of the “back” parts of the course.

Race

Soon enough, it was time to get into my ‘race pen’. Each pen was coned off with plenty of space for six people to socially distance, and the race rules also meant that we had to wear a face covering until 30 seconds before we started. I opted for a buff, which I then put onto my wrist as a sweatband, which I tend to wear anyway.

3-2-1-GO: It soon became clear that I didn’t want to run as fast as the other guys in my group, and I let them move away from me. I was still dragged along a little quicker than I should have been, I probably went through the first quarter of a mile averaging sub-6 minute miles, which is far too fast for me. But, I regained a bit of discipline, and brought my pace back under control within the first mile.

I started passing slower runners from the earlier waves within about half a mile, and not much later I, in turn, started to be passed by quicker runners from later waves. Although this was quite odd, constantly passing and being passed by other runners, it did mean that it was rare to be alone for long during the race.

My first mile came in a little bit quicker than I had been aiming for: 6:26. My expectation was that something around 6:30 would be about the quickest I would manage. Even though there was only a slight wind, I planned to focus on good “out” legs, to try and offset any time-loss in the “back” legs.

According to Strava, I slotted into a decent rhythm for the rest of the race. It felt like it was just getting harder and harder, and my pace was falling off a cliff, but actually, it was pretty perfect. I clocked through the middle three miles in 6:32, 6:34 and 6:33. Honestly, I don’t think I could have hoped for any better, even if it felt like my legs were going to fall off. I absolutely did not realise how well it had gone until I got home and checked Strava: I even told Lolly that I’d run a horrible positive split. (In fact, I ran a to-the-second-perfect even split.)

The second lap was quieter than the first, but there were still plenty of other runners about, going in both directions, so the race was never lonely. I had seen the “race leaders” during my first “back” leg; they had started in the final wave, and I wondered if they would catch up with me. Some quick mental maths suggested that they probably wouldn’t. Spoiler: I was wrong.

I was starting to really feel the exhaustion in my legs during the final mile. The start/finish end of the course was not that well lit for long sections, and by this point, there were few to no runners heading back the other way. Then, with around a third of a mile left, the lead (well, not exactly) bike passed me: “Keep left, lead runners coming through.”

The finish area was exceptionally well lit!

The combination of the bike, and then the runners gave me an injection of pace, allowing me to be dragged along behind them slightly. Sure, they were running over a minute per mile quicker than me, so I couldn’t actually keep up with them, but it still gave me that push (well, pull) when I needed it. I completed the final mile in 6:31, to finish in 33:00 exactly. (Sure, my mile times don’t add up to 33:00: my GPS tracked 5.07 miles, so there are another 23 seconds, but whatever.)

Summary

Before the race I’d used McMillan Running to work out some decent race paces.

My recent 10k PB at the Power Run 10k had been 41:57 in windy conditions: that was equivalent to 33:30, so that had been my minimum target: Done.
The next target at 10k, which had been my target at the Power Run 10k was 41:00, that was the equivalent of 32:44: Not done: target for the next race.
The ultimate target of my current 10k training is 39:59, which is the equivalent of 31:56: Not done: target by the end of the winter, maybe?

Did I enjoy this race? Yes, definitely.
Would I do this race again? Yes, definitely.
What’s next? Probably the next of these. I had another race cancel, the Big Cheese, a 15-mile hilly trail race, so I guess my training now can be completely focused on this flat and fast stuff.

Power Run 10k @ Exeter Racecourse: race report

by Ben

Turns out that this is a bit of a long one, sorry about that…

In January of this year, I ran the Waves on the Prom 5k, and three days later, I also ran the Storm Force 10. It turns out, three days is the shortest span I’ve ever had between two races. I didn’t expect it to be another eight months (to the day) before I ran another race: the longest span I’ve ever had between two races. The reason for this is obvious (in case you are reading this years later for some odd reason, it was the Covid pandemic). I had a few races booked, but they, like most, were cancelled.

I had some ankle issues in February/March, and was then furloughed at the start of April. I then went through a pretty inconsistent patch: I’d have a few good weeks, then a couple of weeks when I really couldn’t be bothered and barely got out. That sort of pattern continued for a while, until I picked up another niggly injury around June. Finally though, I strung some consistency together: 113 miles in July and 130 in August, never dropping below a 25-mile week since the start of July.

I looked around, fancying a crack at my 10k PB, the lowest-dangling fruit of my collection of PBs: 42:06 set at the 2017 Chard Flyer. I had come close twice in 2019, running 42:23 at the Pawlett Plod, shortly followed by 42:28 at the Wessex 10k. I found the Power Run 10k advertised at Exeter Racecourse, and set myself a crash four-week training plan to hone my speed.

Okay, so the training plan was actually just an adaptation of Runner’s World’s 4-week 10k training for 5 days a week. It mostly involved dropping the mileage of my long run from what I had been doing (around the half-marathon distance) and focusing more on quality mileage. I stuck to the interval sessions, but a lot of the other runs got adapted to fit in with life better.

Race-day

I wondered what affect socially-distanced racing would have on my day. I was definitely more nervous pre-race than I normally would be, although that might have been the combination of the period of time since my last race, combined with the pressure and expectation of going for a PB time. (The last time I beat a PB was actually that 2017 10k…)

The race instructions were great: very clear on what would happen, and what was expected of runners. There would be no water station, so bring your own water. It was three and a third laps of the race course service road. The start would be a mass rolling start, to avoid us all standing close together in a pack. Each race would have multiple waves, so only restricted numbers of runners would be on the course at a time. Come ready to run, collect your own medal after. Very stripped back.

I arrived about 45 minutes before the race was due to start. I was directed into the car park: “Park wherever you like, but leave an empty space between you and the next car. The toilets are over there..” Yes, that was my next stop. On the way back I had a bit of a chat with Chris, another RFRC member who had run in the first wave. He gave me some useful information: the wind is horrible, and it is hillier than you might think.

Okay: my initial target had been to run something around 41 minutes. I had always hoped to take it easy early on and then assess it, but hearing about the course cemented that in my mind, especially given I was out of practice at the whole racing thing.

The chat was useful, but it also meant that I ended up running a bit late. Normally I aim to warm-up for about fifteen minutes, but I had to make do with an abbreviated seven minutes – that’ll teach me for chatting too long!

Race

At the start, we were funnelled into three files approached the line: I was in the second row from the front, as everybody else had declared that they were too far forwards, and dropped back. As we shot off, I made a concerted effort NOT to shoot off too fast, while also bearing in mind that the pace gap would be much smaller than usual: the sub-40 guys were in later wave. A few people went past me, and I settled in around eighth or ninth. Through the first kilometre, I let a gap grow between me and the leading pack, while inadvertently, I also developed a gap from the group behind me, leaving me somewhat in no man’s land. Great.

I was glad of my chat with Chris for the mental preparation: on the far side of the lap, it dropped down a dip, and then rose back up to our starting position. At the start of the second lap, turning onto the main straight revealed a horrible headwind during the gentle ascent. I hadn’t noticed it first lap, probably through a combination of the pack ahead of me, and early-race adrenaline. The pack ahead of me started to break up, and runners fell back towards me. Each runner gave me a little target, but I knew it was still important for me to be disciplined and run my own race.

Consistent pacing was impossible with an undulating course and a steady headwind along the finishing straight. There was also the slight oddity that the dip on the other side of the course was slightly protected from the wind, and so felt quite hot under the sun – such variety in a 3 km loop! I concentrated on strong, consistent effort, albeit with a slight increase during the descent, figuring that it played to my strengths and was the least sapping part of the course to press a little harder.

I passed the halfway stage, 5 km, in around 20:30, which told me that a 41-ish finishing time was out of the window, and I immediately began readjusting my thoughts for something around 42, if I could hold on for that.

I never used to be too keen on multi-lap courses, or at least the idea of them. But touring around so many parkruns has got me used to the concept, and honestly, it was quite nice today. After the first lap, I was able to plan better, knowing where I would lose and gain time. Each kilometre marker I set myself a target time to reach the next marker, bearing in mind whether it was a faster or slower part of the course. I not only considered how quickly I thought I could cover that section, but also what that would leave me needing in the remainder of the race: ‘If I reach 8 km in 33 minutes, I have nine minutes to do that final two kilometres, that should be doable.’

I worked my way through the field, and entered the final lap fourth in the wave: the chap in first was way ahead, but both second and third seemed to be falling back towards me. I closed in on third and passed him through the dip, as we hit 8 km: 33:05. I started to push from here; normally 2 km would be a little too far out, but I knew that most of the last kilometre would just be about holding on into that headwind, so if I was going to make an impact, it was now.

I pressed as the course rose out of the dip and along the back straight, and ran that penultimate kilometre in 4:04, closing the gap significantly on the guy in second. I continued to close in as we rounded the bend onto the home straight, a roughly 600 metre stretch to the finish. I tucked in behind him to shield myself from the wind, hoping to draft for a while before moving out towards the end, depending on how our time was looking.

Even behind him, the wind felt horrible, but I also felt like I had more to give. The pace felt like it was slowing too much, and I stepped out from behind him. Oh, okay, that’s definitely worse. I tucked back in. We passed the ‘400 m to go’ board with just under two minutes in hand. That should be easy enough?!

I stepped out again, but again, I couldn’t make an impression, and tucked back in. We were both getting quicker now: whether he reacted to my move, or it was just the closing push, I don’t know. Either way, I felt pretty sure we’d make it in under 42 minutes. In the final 20-30 metres, I moved into a gentle sprint, as did he: maybe if we had genuinely been battling over second, I could have pushed for an all-out sprint and beaten him, but it didn’t really matter. He finished in 41:55, and I finished in 41:57, officially a nine-second PB.

Post-race

I grabbed my medal, and chatted to a few of the other finishers, during which we mostly commiserated each other on the wind. On the way home, I stopped for McDonalds at the very handy restaurant which is less than a mile from the race course: great post-race fuelling!

Forgive the poor quality – it’s a screenshot of my Instagram story…

I’m pretty chuffed with the effort. Although I ended up around a minute slower than my vague target, I think that on a flatter, less windy course, I would have easily achieved that. I ran strong, and with a consistent effort that I maintained to the finish. I ran the first lap in 12:25, the second in 13:00, and the third in 12:50; then it was just the horrible final drag to the end.

Now I’m just champing at the bit for an opportunity to prove that I can run faster, and finally beat the 10k distance PB that I set during the 2016 Great Bristol Half Marathon.

Did I enjoy this race? Yes, definitely.
Would I do this race again? Yes, probably.
What’s next? No idea. I’m signed up for The Big Cheese (which I ran before, back in 2017), but I might find something else before then. Or… a second wave might put an end to races for the year.

I don’t want to race (Yeovilton 5k race report)

by Lolly

I don’t want to race.
I’m tired.
I feel rundown.
I don’t want to see people.
I just want to curl up and read.
But I’ve signed up, so I’ll go.

I don’t know where anything is.
The air is hot and heavy.
I don’t run well in the evening.
I pick up my number.
I get changed.
I hide in my car.

I feel silly warming up next to fast people.
I avoid conversations.
I’m uncomfortable waiting for the start.
I listen to the race brief.
I start running.
I want to get sub-25 today.

I hate running round the car park.
I hate there jostling for position.
I hate how fast the 25 pacer has gone off.
I feel broken already.
I’m glad I warmed up though.
I just don’t want to race.

I’m way behind at 1k.
I hope the marker was wrong.
I need to keep pushing.
I start to feel stronger.
I’m only just behind at 2k.
I start to believe.

I struggle with tiny undulations.
I worry that there might be more.
I barely notice people cheering.
I’m getting tired.
I try to keep focused.
I’ve slipped a bit at 3k.

I hear my 2 mile beep.
I know I need to give it my all.
I don’t know if my all is enough.
I start to get stomach cramps.
I’m so close to time at 4k.
But how fast can I run the final 1?

I turn back onto the main road.
I pass the 25 minute pacer.
He says we’re 15 seconds ahead.
I know he’s wrong.
I start to feel sick.
I might not actually finish at all.

I turn towards the finish.
I see the clock.
I give it my all.
I know it won’t be enough.
I keep going.
I don’t want to.

I watch the number tick over.
24:57, 24:58, 24:59, 25:00, 25:01…
I cross the line.
I didn’t make it.
I’ve failed.
And I feel really really sick.

I walk to my car.
I have a drink.
I text a couple of people.
I try to take it all in.
I try to tell myself I’ll do it next time.
But will I want to try again?

I get changed.
I buy cake and squash.
I talk to nice people.
I tell them I failed my goal.
I admit that my PB had been 25:41.
They remind me I did really well.

I eat and drink.
I start to feel better.
I drive home.
I think about my new 25:03 PB.
I didn’t want to race.
But I did.

Town Tree Trail: race report

by Ben

May and June are pretty relentless as far as Somerset Series races are concerned. The Wambrook Waddle and Town Tree Trail were back-to-back this year; Sunday/Wednesday. After a tough hilly race on Sunday, there were quite a few tired legs out there on Wednesday evening: mine included!

This was an interesting race for me; it was the first time since my switch to Minehead that I was taking part in a race with a significant presence from Running Forever. There were a few comments, in jest (I think!), about tripping me up, but I emerged unscathed!

While writing my report for the Wambrook Waddle, I was musing about my pacing tactics; specifically, I came to the conclusion that “at the moment I feel my best tactic is to push hard early and then try to hold on.” I noticed that at the Town Tree Trail last year, although I’d averaged 7:06 per mile, my first mile had been a 6:26. I thought about it some more, and decided that on a flat course, maybe it would be worth trying for a better pacing strategy. Maybe take things a bit easier early on, and have a more even pacing.

A few laps of the field with Matt and Will sufficed for a warm-up, before we then ambled around waiting for the start, which ended up being late. There was more or less a full course description in the pre-race briefing, during which I must admit I completely switched off.

The race

Starting on the front row probably wasn’t the best idea for a controlled start. I had Ali and Sam, both club-mates at Running Forever, just over my left shoulder; both were likely to be quicker than me. As we set off, I consciously avoided going with the leading pack, which Danny and Matt were both part of. Three-quarters of the way around the field though, I realised that Will was still behind me. Bugger; he’s quicker than me too. As we left the field, I glanced at my watch; 6:03 pace. Double bugger.

As we hared along the short stretch of road (and let’s be honest, given the silly pace, it definitely was ‘hared’), Ali and Sam eased past me, shortly followed by Will. Right – the pace might still be a tad too quick; I clocked about a 3:50 first kilometre, which is quicker than my average during my quickest-ever 5k, but at least I’d shuffled down to roughly the right spot.

Leaving the fields, we entered a stretch of fields. In contrast to the lonely race I had at the Wambrook Waddle, I was rarely without another runner during this race. Through this first field section, I had Sam about ten metres ahead, and Nick Brooke closing in behind me. My pace had dropped to something more sensible, and I was happy to tag on behind Nick when he passed me.

During the middle section of the race, it twists and turns around the Town Tree Nature Garden, which is a lovely landscaped garden open to the public year round. As a runner, it’s a pretty unique place to run, featuring a narrow paths around tight corners, including more than one complete 180 degree hairpin. We went over a small bridge which we later ducked under; there was a little waterfall feature we ran under, and countless arches made out of old horseshoes. Through all of this, I remained a couple of paces behind Nick, and now about the same ahead of another Series regular, Andrew Piper.

I was starting to have some concerns about the race distance; we had gone past the two mile marker a little while before entering the garden, and yet my watch bleeped for four miles while we still had a fair bit of the garden left to do. As far as I was aware, we would be following the same route back from the garden, which added up to more than 6.22 miles by my reckoning. I made a mental note to possibly expect a “long 10k”.

When we came back out of the garden, I was feeling pretty comfortable, and soon realised that this was due to the pace having dropped quite significantly. Feeling that I could push on, I opted to move past Nick, figuring that if nothing else, we could work together to keep a decent pace for the last couple of miles. Ahead, Sam had moved out of sight, but another runner was in view, and I felt that I might have a decent chance of catching him. For the next three-quarters of a mile, I was slowly reeling in the runners ahead. One, who was struggling, was passed quickly, while both a runner from (probably) Yeovil and Sam were getting closer.

And then, disaster. A stitch. I haven’t had a bad stitch while running for years, and this was quite an awkward time. Looking back, I was probably running more or less at my limit, and this was just a sign that maybe I’d pushed a little too hard. Or maybe it was something completely different, who knows. I had to drop off my pace a little; I could only take relatively shallow breaths, and although my legs were still miraculously strong, I just couldn’t push. When we got back to the road, with around a kilometre to go, Nick and Andrew cruised past me.

A smile hides the pain and frustration of my finish.

Having eased off my pace for a while, the pain lessened a bit, and I hoped that I could push on to get them back at the finish. I thought I was more or less maintaining the gap as we ran around the final recreation field that we’d started in, but when I looked at it honestly, I was slipping back. My focus switched to the runner closing in behind me, and I concentrated on running hard enough to keep my position, which I managed.

Post-race

I haven’t seen any results yet, but I’m guessing that I placed somewhere in the 20s, which isn’t awful for the Series. We’d been quietly hoping before the race that we might have a good chance at the men’s team prize, as I was likely to be the last of our four finishers. Unfortunately, for both our hopes of the team prize and himself, Danny busted his ankle in one of the fields and had to drop out just short of two miles in. Dammit Danny!

After grabbing a cold shower, I headed with Matt and Will for some food (a sausage roll (thanks Will!) and a donut). While we were eating, the race director came over as asked for our race numbers and approximate finish times as apparently some runners had been missed, and they were trying to work out where the gaps were. This delayed the presentation ceremony a bit!

It was a successful race for both my clubs; Matt got a trophy for being third overall, and Verity was third lady. Meanwhile for Running Forever, Sam was first female, while Ali took home the prize for first veteran male 50+. For me, no trophy, but a surprisingly quick run. Considering that last year I was running pretty well in May, I actually ran a quicker pace this year (though the added distance meant a slower overall time.) Along with a decent Wambrook Waddle race, I can hopefully build on these for the summer races, and maybe an autumn PB attempt at either 5k or 10k. Or both?

Did I enjoy this race? Actually, yes. I didn’t have particularly good memories of it from 2018; not that it had been bad, just that I’d felt it was a bit bland. But, yeah, I enjoyed it.
Would I do this race again? It’s in the Somerset Series, so yes, I expect so.
What’s next? Lolly will be running the Wells 10k on 26 May, then I think I’m doing the Crewkerne 10k on 2 June.

Wambrook Waddle: race report

by Ben

This is the third time I’ve run the Wambrook Waddle; I previously took part in 2017 and 2016, while Lolly ran it in 2015. Last year, it took place, but wasn’t part of the Somerset Series, so I gave it a miss.

Running hasn’t really come together for me this year. Am I running badly? No, not really. But am I running well? No, not really. I really, really, really want to break 40 minutes at 10k this year, but without a sustained period of decent training, it’s not going to happen. But anyway, that’s not what this post should be about. Suffice to say, that more or less as always, I’d have liked to be more prepared for this race.

This was the second race for my new club, and it sort of underlined part of the reason behind my switch; I was one of four from Minehead, while there was no one else from my old club there. Well, technically, Lolly was there, but she wasn’t running, just spectating! (Mostly stopping the kids from killing themselves, actually.) After a little pre-race potter about, we headed out for a warm-up, which included the field we would climb up at the end of the race. During this (in which I actually ran quicker up the hill than I would in the race) we discovered that the car park hadn’t been marshalled very well (at all), meaning that there were cars parked across the race route! Thankfully, the gaps were big enough to get through easily, but it was one to bear in mind for later…

More faffing about ensued for the next ten minutes before the race start: mostly I dumped my sweaty warm-up top on Lolly (I’m sure she appreciated it), and switched to my race vest. The pre-race briefing sensibly suggested not tripping over anything, and kindly reminded us that this was quite a hilly race. Hopefully, it wasn’t too much of a surprise for anyone!

… and GO!

I love the start to this race. A 600 metre dash downhill to a stream crossing. I started what felt like relatively conservatively, but ended up second behind only Matt. Not so conservative after all. I actually felt like I could have pressed a little bit quicker than Matt was going while remaining comfortable, but I opted not to be a complete prat, and stuck in behind him. I took a slightly different line to Matt through the stream… and it turned out to be completely the wrong one. I sunk down a lot more than I expected (and a lot more than Matt), and nearly fell in. As it was, my vest, head and arms were all soaked from the splash/sinking combination.

Immediately after the stream, the route follows the old adage; ‘what goes down, must come up’. Or whatever. I wasn’t surprised when people came streaming past me as we climbed the long hill (well, it felt like they came streaming past me, in reality I was still in 10th at the top of the hill.) I was completely prepared for this; much as I would love to say that I could pace properly, and be that guy who conserves his energy for the last push, it’s just not how I race. Maybe when I’m closer to peak fitness I will give it a go, but at the moment I feel my best tactic is to push hard early and then try to hold on. I’m aware that this is probably just a really bad idea.

As usual, in warm conditions after a slog up the hill, I was glad for the 1.25-mile drink station. The hill went on for a bit longer before the fiddly twists and turns through the wood at the top. Through this section I heard footsteps come up quite quickly behind me, but before the runner could get passed, the course dropped downhill again, and I was able to stay ahead. I maintained my slim advantage all the way downhill, until we reached about 2.5 miles into the race, and then he inevitably went past. And that, for all intents and purposes, was the end of my actual racing. I was in 11th place, and maintained exactly that position for the rest of the race. The end.

Okay, so it wasn’t quite that simple, as I still had another 3.7 miles to run. The immediate battle was the second climb of the race. I took a brief walk towards in the middle of the hill, but tried to push on as best as I could. Mostly because there were a couple of marshals on the hill, and I felt guilted into it! Another descent took us down to the third river crossing of the race, before easily my least favourite hill.

I don’t really know what’s so bad about it; looking on Strava, it doesn’t look the steepest of the hills, and it’s far from the longest. Maybe it’s partly the underfoot conditions. Probably, it’s just that it’s just barely over halfway through the race. Far enough in that I’m already knackered from the hills already run, but not far enough that I feel like I can push on through because I’m nearly finished. Thankfully, after the short, sharp climb through a field, the second drink station gives a handy excuse for a rest. The course continues to climb after, and I was able to see the runners both ahead and behind me. The gap looked similar each way, and I was a bit concerned that this meant I was slipping back into those behind me. I couldn’t do much about it at that stage though, I was struggling a bit with the hill, though it was a relatively friendly 1:10 or something.

From mile four, the course mostly runs through relatively flat fields until a couple of drops and climbs right at the end. A couple of fields into this stretch, not long after my watch beeped for four miles, I realised that I’d sunk into something of a plod. I made a conscious effort to drive my arms and generally ‘get a wriggle on’, otherwise I was definitely going to fall into the clutches of those behind me. (I could see a group of three; my club-mate Verity and two men.) Having sped up, I slowly built up the gap on that gap, and hoped that would dissuade any of them from making too much of an effort to catch me. Conversely, I briefly saw the group of three ahead of me; all three were Minster Milers runners. It looked like Ed had caught the two ahead of him, and I was hopeful that it meant they were struggling. As it turns out, they either sped back up, or it was something of an illusion, as they both finished around a minute ahead of him.

Although it had given me a brief impetus to speed up, it soon became apparent that I wasn’t going to catch anyone, and I settled back into a steadier pace, aware that I had another race coming up on Wednesday. In fact, I ended up running the last hill (though the car park field) slower than I’d done it during our warm-up.

A half-hearted attempt at a sprint-finish.

I had a lonely second half of the race; I finished in 11th, over 90 seconds behind Ed and 50 seconds ahead of the next runner. For the Somerset Series I was chuffed with an 11th place, and it was also a course PB by about 45 seconds, so I can’t really complain.

Did I enjoy this race? Yes. It’s really tough, because the hills kill you in the first half of the race, but this is the sort of race I love.
Would I do this race again? Again, yes. This is the third year I’ve run the race, and I’d love to do it again.
What’s next? The ‘Town Tree Trail 10k’ on Wednesday 15 May. I ran this last year, but didn’t blog about it. It’s off-road, but almost pancake flat, with some lovely twists and turns around the Town Tree Nature Garden.

Round the Tor 10k: 2019 race report

by Lolly

This year Ben and I have decided that we both want to do the Somerset Series (ie 8 qualifying races), which means that at least one of us has to do pretty much every race (factoring in the ones we can’t do). I did the Babcary MT race back in February (and failed to blog about it), and my next outing was scheduled as what is officially known as the Round the Tor 10k. Or Glastonbury 10k as pretty much everyone calls it.

I ran this race back in 2015 and really enjoyed it, helped by the fact that it was the first time I went under an hour for 10k. This year I wasn’t too sure how it would go. A recent parkrun PB indicated that my form was good, but my training was inconsistent to non-existent. Anytime I was asked what I was aiming for, I said it was a benchmark run. Which it should have been. Except, of course, when you’ve set a massive landmark PB at a course once, you kind of want to do it again.

In the morning we set off early, so that we could go to Cheddar junior parkrun on the way. It was a lovely little event, and worked perfectly in terms of timing. I also got a little bit of sprinting practice in when little man decided to run away from my marshal point. After the event finished, we took the short drive to Glastonbury and headed to the designated race parking, where we were able to park easily.

The atmosphere before the race is a bit crazy, with all the other distance events going on at the same time. My prep took the form of: collect number, get Ben to put number on vest, get Ben to re-position number, go to toilet (no queue!), take Lani to toilet (big queue!), panic visit shop to buy pre-race snack. Seamless. I headed over to the start area with 10 minutes to go, and managed a little warm up before chatting with club mates. I was asked again what time I was aiming for. I replied that if it went well then hopefully about 55 minutes, but there was also a good chance of me collapsing at around 5 miles.

The race brief was clear and detailed, talking about potholes we should expect for approximately half the course. Amusingly they couldn’t find the starting hooter, so it was a very muted start. But as it’s a chip to chip race this wasn’t much of a problem. The first task was always going to be getting into the right position – I had no idea where in the line up I needed to be, and the mass of Millfield students always adds the extra random factor.

My entire race plan was pretty simple: Aim to do the first mile in 9 minutes and go from there. I felt pretty strong heading down past the town hall (who wouldn’t on a downhill start), and was excited heading up the high street knowing my family was at the top ready to cheer me. Lani put her hand out to give me a high five, and as a result ended up giving them to several other runners as well.

Heading along the main road I felt pretty good, and tried to settle into some form of rhythm. My watch beeped for one mile sooner than I expected – in fact 20 seconds earlier than my target. This gave me a bit of confidence to push on, although I was wary that my short training runs could lead me to burn out too soon. We reached the next milestone I was looking for – the out and back section down a side road.

Glad to have that ticked off, the next target was moving from the main road to the back roads. Which coincidentally happens just before the end of mile 2. I always keep my watch in mile laps, whatever I’m running, and in a 10k it’s great because it means you get km signs and mile beeps and so there’s always another marker. The promised potholes and rugged edges were clear to see, as were the undulations I remembered this course for. But I managed to keep going at a reasonably even pace.

The water station was at the top of a hill, shortly before 5k. As my fingers touched the water cup, the girl handing it to me let go. So I got one leg absolutely drenched, and a tiny sip of water. This worried me slightly, but I knew there was another water station later if I was struggling.

And so we reached the 5k line, and for the first time I checked my watch against the course marking (because, easy calculation). It hadn’t even got to 27 minutes yet. That calculation was pretty easy then. If I managed to maintain a watch pace of around 8:30 then I would be well under 55 minutes.

I felt pretty good, and so despite the lack of training I was pretty confident I could do it. Until somewhere in mile 4, when I remembered the horrible heartbreak hill that would be greeting us near the end. Which somehow had been removed from all my memories of the course. Now I see why Ben reads his old race reports before he heads out!

Still, the second water station treated me much better (decent sip and splash over face), helped as well by the cheers surrounding it. On the nice gradual downhill that follows I was clearly feeling more tired, but not so much that I wavered from my 8:30ish average. As the surroundings changed to houses I mentally prepared myself for what was to come.

The hill did not disappoint, with most people round me slowing to a walk. I was pretty pig-headed by this stage though, and determined to get through it. My pace clearly did slow, but not beyond control. I reached the top feeling pretty happy, but also out of breath and realising that I needed to recover quickly if I wanted to make anything of the finish. And right at this point was one of the race photographers, just to help the situation!

But then came the moment I was waiting for, as we rounded the corner and saw the downhill stretch towards the finish. It’s fair to say I sped up a bit at this point, in some sort of desperate attempt to put the final icing on my perfect race cake. Just as the road levels of (and in fact starts to go up a little), I saw my family cheering at the side. I had nothing left to be able to move over to give Lani a high five (for which I apologised after), and just about managed a wave as I carried on to the line.

Like I said, I told everyone who asked me that this was a benchmark race. But I clearly wanted a course PB (previously 59:13), and my overall 10k PB of 55:22 looked in touching distance based on my parkrun form. So you might be able to imagine how it felt crossing the line in 53:27. Ben later admitted to being completely surprised at seeing my distinctive running gear appear so early (good job I wear Tikiboos or he might have missed me!).

It’s hard to fault the Glastonbury 10k as a race. Medal, technical t-shirt (if you sign up before cut off), free race photos, and great organisation. Oh and a course that is interesting but entirely manageable. Definitely one I’ll consider in future, although I’ve set my bar pretty high by crushing my PB both times I’ve run it so far!

And now I’m basking in the glow of being undeniably in the best running shape I’ve ever been in. Finally I can well and truly stop running in the shadow of 2015. I can’t bask for too long though – I’ve got another race at the end of the month!

First sub-60 and first sub-55. Still not the most attractive finish photo.

Butleigh MT 10k: race report

by Ben

I previously ran this race in both 2017 and 2018, and described the course in the 2018 report, so I won’t go into too much detail again.

After starting my Somerset Series campaign last weekend at the BHAM Trail 10k, it was a back-to-back week of racing, with the Butleigh multi-terrain race coming the following weekend. In between, we had a week at Center Parcs, which was a lovely family holiday, but I’m not all that convinced that the nice meals out and the various activities were all that conducive to race preparation!

As I hadn’t signed up in advance, I arrived suitably early in order to register on the day. And by “suitably early”, I really mean far too early! It was basically just me and the marshals for about quarter of an hour. Registration (once it opened) was nice and straight-forward, and I was soon back in the car listening to a podcast while I waited for other people to arrive. Namely, Matt B, who was bringing my new club vest. A midweek transfer from Running Forever RC to Minehead RC had gone through somewhat quicker than I was expecting!

I’ll admit, pulling on the blue vest of Minehead felt pretty odd after five years of the red and white of Running Forever. (The vest is also a little too big, which is unfortunate. Maybe a hot wash or two?) Still, part of the reason that I made the switch was borne out at the race: there was one other Running Forever member, someone that I don’t know that well, compared to a group of seven of us from Minehead.

Race

Given my cold, I opted to take it pretty easy from the outset; though my splits don’t make it appear that way. I ran an almost identically paced first mile as in each of the last two years, but bear in mind that it was so much firmer this year. So while my time might have been about the same, the amount of effort required for that time was far less. In fact, over the first four miles, I was nearly 45 seconds quicker than last year. My final two miles brought me back to almost exact parity. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I let runners flow past me early on, content to run my own race. Unsurprisingly, because of the conditions, I ran a huge PB on the ‘Up to Reynolds Way’ Strava segment. In previous years, this has been a quagmire of a field, but this year, it was completely solid, resulting in a 26-second improvement. Despite this, it was one of the sections I struggled with; anything uphill meant that I slipped back. I soon found that while I could ‘cruise’ without too much issue, pushing that little bit harder just wasn’t possible, my chest didn’t allow me to step up that extra gear.

Looping around the first field. The t-shirt was possibly a bit of a mistake, but I was worried that if my run was quite slow, I might get cold.

I held pace through the middle section of the race, a combination of descents and flat fields, but the second, long, climb was a real struggle. I slipped back a few positions early on, and could hear more footsteps further up. I glanced back and saw a few runners behind me, but somehow I managed to only let one through. By this stage, around four and a half miles in, with around two to go (another long “10k”), my competitive instincts were straining. Although I was limited by my chest, I was no longer just taking it easy. I was pushing as much as I felt I could, trying to keep hold of positions if I could. I went past a runner that I’d been keeping pace with for a little bit, but then let a Langport runner through. I tried to match pace with the Langport runner, and found that I could do well enough. As the course dropped down out of the woods, I flew back past him again, but not for long, as he overtook me on the subsequent flat.

From there on, the final three-quarters of a mile, things stood pretty equal. The Langport runner eased away from me, while Verity (a fellow Minehead runner) was closing in behind me. I ended up beating her by a couple of seconds, but had the race gone on for another 50 metres, I wouldn’t have had much of a chance!

I need to work out the race number alignment thing…

The results haven’t been posted yet, so I don’t know what position I finished in. I normally wouldn’t have raced with a cold like this, but given that Lolly and I both want to complete the Somerset Series this year, we can’t really afford to miss too many. My position isn’t going to be amazing, but it’s a pretty small field, so hopefully it won’t have done too much damage. Importantly, that’s two races under my belt already, with another couple hopefully coming in May.

Did I enjoy this race? Today: not really, it wasn’t much of a “race” for me.
Would I do this race again? Yes. This was the third year in a row, and I can’t see any reason I won’t be back next year.
What’s next? The Wambrook Waddle on 12 May, which I raced in 2016 and 2017, and Lolly ran in 2015. Lolly has the Glastonbury 10k the week before, which she ran in 2015, and I ran in 2016. (She better get training!)

BHAM Trail 10k: race report

by Ben

The BHAM Trail 10k was a new one in the Somerset Series for this year. They had held their first event in 2018, but it had passed me by (and, who am I kidding, if it’s not in the Somerset Series, I’m not really interested!) BHAM Runners are based in Bower Hinton, Ash and Martock on the Somerset Levels. The Somerset Series already has two races in close proximity, the Ash Excellent Eight, and the Town Tree Trail 10k. The Tin Tin Ten, which is sadly no longer running, used to be just a couple of miles away too.

I hadn’t done a great deal of research before the race, but I did have a quick look at a Strava summary from someone that ran it last year, and discovered that while it was mostly flat (which is to be expected on the Levels) it did start with a downhill, and correspondingly finished uphill. Even so, it totalled less than 250 feet of elevation, so nothing too concerning there. Beyond that, I didn’t really know what to expect.

As usual, I’ll get my excuses in early. I’d been running well this year, building back towards full running fitness, which culminated with my 20:00 at the Street 5k in February. Unfortunately, shortly thereafter I fell over while running on the Quantocks. Then I got shingles. Then I got the diarrhoea and vomiting bug. Happy times. I ended up missing around five weeks of training, and have only had two weeks back so far.

Race day

Parking was a military operation; we were neatly squeezed into a little trading estate. It was a short walk from there to Bower Hinton Farm, which served as the Race HQ. It was a little disappointing that there only appeared to be one porta-loo (plus a porta-urinal). The pre-race instructions had mentioned that there were toilets at the car park, but when I asked the car park marshals, they directed me to the farm.

Timings meant that I ended up missing my warm-up, which was a little unfortunate, but ultimately, I’m not in the kind of form where it’s going to make much of a difference. (The link between warming up and injury reduction is inconclusive, but the links with improved performance are far more apparent.) The children’s race was ran at 9:30, before the adult race (due to start at 10:10) which meant that the race briefing for the 10k doubled up as the prize ceremony for the children’s races, which was a nice touch to make sure that the children got a good crowd. Awarding children model grenades was less suitable, I felt. I get the obvious link between a grenade and the cartoon BHAM! explosion logo that the club use, but while it is fine for the main 10k, it felt inappropriate for the children. But hey, call me Generation Snowflake.

Race

With the race briefing complete, we bimbled over to the start line. It quickly became apparent that there weren’t that many of the typical front-runners. This wasn’t too surprising, as the race was held on the same day as the Taunton Half Marathon. Despite my expectations of struggling somewhat, I lined up in the second row from the front, and with little fanfare, we were set off.

Burnham’s Matt Powell was chuffed with a front-row start! Credit: Derek McCoy

After a short and relatively inconsequential climb, we dropped downhill for the first half mile of the race, and I mostly just let myself off the leash to have fun. The initial back-and-forth position changes went on as we worked ourselves out, but I quickly shuffled into tenth. A top-ten finish would be great, but I didn’t much fancy my chances of holding onto it. The early stages of the race involved a number of narrow muddy paths which were pretty slippery after the recent rain, and I could hear the footsteps closing in behind me as we navigated them. The narrowness of the paths meant that the runners behind couldn’t pass me, and I gained a bit more ground as we crossed a couple of stiles shortly after.

The stiles marked the beginning of the more traditional fare for a race on the Levels; running around the edges of fields. With this came plenty of room for passing, and it wasn’t long before I’d dropped a couple more positions into twelfth. At this stage, around a mile-and-three-quarters in, I was worried that the rest of the race might be a slow progression of other runners easing past me, but despite regular and frequent glances over my shoulder, I seemed to be holding onto twelfth okay.

After the early mud, most of the rest of the course was relatively firm through the fields. At around the three-mile mark, we came out onto the road for a few hundred metres before turning off, back into another field. That was the only significant road section of the race; another couple lasted less than a hundred metres each. The field after was perhaps the toughest section of the race. It was horribly uneven and leg-sapping: I can only imagine how much worse it would have been with a bit more rain!

More fields, more stiles, all good stuff. The aid station (which was somewhere during all this, I really can’t remember where), was dubbed the ‘Claire Station’ as all the volunteers there were named Claire. I didn’t take a drink; I was struggling a little, but water wasn’t going to do much! The only significant climbs of the race were both at the end; a climb up to a residential area on the edge of Bower Hinton at just over five-and-a-half miles, which wasn’t too bad, and then another at about six-and-a-quarter miles, which was.

Yes, six-and-a-quarter miles. This was a long 10k. So long in fact that it was closer to 11k! I had continued to glance over my shoulder, but the expected rush of runners passing me hadn’t happened. Until that last hill. Nicknamed ‘Cripple Hill’, it certainly had the expected effect on me. After managing to run the lower section, I ground to a walk soon after the cheering spectators. I felt nauseous, faint, all the great stuff. It felt like I was walking forever; a pair of runners went past me, and then a third just as I got back up to a jog. I managed to drag a sprint finish out of the reserves to get myself back into fourteenth at the end.

Flying feet during my brief sprint to regain 14th. Credit: the Burke family

A nice medal and goody bag awaited at the finish. A couple of biscuits, a bag of Haribo and a drinks bottle, along with a good quality medal made this race great value at £12. The good value continued at the cake stall: two cakes for 50p, plus a hot drink for the same again – bargain! We hung around long enough for Matt B to receive his bronze grenade for third place. It turns out that if you press the lever, it beeped and made an exploding noise!

Overall, I summarised this race on my Instagram post: “Harder than it should have been today, but to be honest, that’s just the difference between where my head thinks I should be, and where my fitness currently is. Nice course, but leg-sapping terrain in parts. Can’t complain at 14th overall, 13th male. Somerset Series campaign started.“

Did I enjoy this race? Yes.
Would I do this race again? Absolutely.
What’s next? The Butleigh MT 10k next Sunday, which I ran in both 2017 and 2018.

An apology to the Street 5k

by Ben

Dear the Street 5k,

We first met in December 2014. You were experienced and had enjoyed some of the best that the area had to offer. I’d had a few clumsy fumbles with parkrun and thought I knew what I was doing. Brash, I thought you’d be the ideal partner for me to show off what I was made of. You took me on, roughed me up, and tossed me back out again.

Spurned and embarrassed, I was quick to judge you harshly. Whenever anyone mentioned you, I was unkind, saying nasty things. I said that you had too many laps, that your corners were too sharp, too slow, too much of a drag on your momentum. I suggested that the entrance to Pizza Express was a gauntlet, that I; even I, had been lapped. The horror. As time went on, my memories of you got harder. The corners got sharper, the laps duller, and it was even your fault that it was a cold night.

For four years I avoided you. During this time, I got a bit more experience. Heck, let’s be honest, I got around a bit. I had a fairly regular thing going with the Yeovilton 5k (one lap, gentle corners…) for a while. I tried flat, bumpy, short, long, dirty, clean, the whole shebang.

Around, and around, and around, and around, and around.

So, four years more experienced, I came back. A bit more mature, a bit less cocky. And, well… you’re not so bad. Sure, you’ve got five laps. All the better for pacing myself, keeping myself under control. Yeah, some of the corners are quite sharp. But at least you don’t have any of those 180 degree out-and-back cones, so it’s easy enough to maintain momentum by taking a wider line. Pizza Express – I’m not sure if they even have any customers?!

Cap in hand, I have to say sorry. Sorry I judged you so harshly. Sorry I blamed my shortcomings on you. I had a good time; shall we do it again sometime?

Yours,

Ben