Well almost twelve years, it was 2 July 2006 in Mansfield
the BMAF Half Marathon Championship, where I came 7th and 4th
M40. Since then I haven’t raced further than 10k on the road or track, with
slightly further excursions over cross country. In fact I’ve rarely raced
further than 5k in the last two years. So what was it that made me enter a 10
mile road race? For starters I’ve been conscious that I’ve been reluctant to
race over the 10k distance, my one time favourite race distance, and I wanted
to put an end to that. By going over distance, rather than enter a 10k, I
figured it would make an eventual return to the 10k distance more enjoyable
(bit of Rog psychology for you). The other reason was that this was a
championship race that just happened to be fairly close to home, Rhyl, about an
hour’s drive away.
During my peak racing years I would really describe myself
as a track runner. I did cross country in the winter, for strength and
endurance and I did road relays in spring to bring on the speed and in the
autumn to use up any remaining speed from the summer but I tended to steer
clear of road races throughout the year. My coach at the time wasn’t keen on me
mixing up road and track and I hadn’t really developed a love for the roads at
that point so I was quite happy to go along with him. In all fairness I was
reasonably successful on the track so I wouldn’t say I missed out.
I did a couple of 10 milers in my early days, 1990 and 1992,
but these were cross country races, my club champs, in which I ran 67 and 61
minutes respectively.
My first 10 miler on the roads was in 1999. By now I had
changed coach and felt like I was no longer as fast on the track as I had been.
The previous summer I had a problem with my back, that, at the time, I wasn’t
sure I would come back from. The five month enforced break gave me time to
think about my running future and I decided that I’d achieved everything I was
going to on the track and it was time to switch to the roads, thus prompting the
change of coach. My first race back was in December of 1998, after a couple of
weeks return to running I tackled the 7.5 mile Surrey cross country
championships. It was tough, Coulsdon always was but they’d changed the course
to incorporate a steep hill, four times. With the persistent rain it was almost
like an ‘It’s a Knockout’ trying to get up it. I finished 66th, well
behind runners I’d only ever seen on my post race cool downs, and, with the
tricky conditions, I’d been forced to walk up that hill twice. But I wasn’t
down hearted, I always believed I would get fit again, at least my back
problems seemed to be at an end.
7th March 1999 I lined up for the start of the
Woking 10. I have no idea why I chose this particular race, or distance,
perhaps not feeling that I was yet back to fitness I wanted to set a 10 mile
marker before it was too late, just in case I only had one more year of running
in me. The race was won by Dave Tune, 49:22, I was 9th in 53:54. I’m
sure I was disappointed with that, my peer group, from when I was at my best,
were running around the 50 mark, but I was also realistic, I was still coming
back to fitness and at least I was back racing. By the end of the year I had
set my mile pb and won my third Surrey 10000m championship.
Also by the end of the year I was out working in Germany, a
place called Herzogenaurach. Herzo, as we called it, was a small town, to me only
really a village, but was the headquarters for both Adidas and Puma. I could’ve
stayed in Nuremburg, which was an interesting city, but after commuting into
London for work for 15 years I plumped for staying in Herzo and the 10 minute
walk into the office. Sure I would miss out on the social life but I relished
the chance to train in the forests around my work place and, because I had no
distractions, other than work, I could train twice a day. It was perfect and I
soon started getting into good shape.
I would travel back to the UK every fortnight and try to
race when I could. By January 2000 I had achieved my highest position in a
Surrey cross country champs, 7th (later promoted to 6th
due to disqualification). My third race of the year was the Sidcup 10 miles, I
took the lead at around the 1 mile point and won in 51:00. It was a huge
improvement on the Woking 10, less than a year before, and a huge confidence
booster. I was a little disappointed as we did seem to be going through the
mile checkpoints on target for a sub 50 but I think the mile markers were set
up wrong as there was no way I ran a 6 minute last mile. And that was my last
10 mile race, 18 years ago.
Once I’d made the decision to enter Rhyl I realised I would
have to train a bit harder. My longest run was about 9 miles and my longest rep
was 3 minutes. So I started to stretch my training runs, got up to 11 miles
before we went on holiday to Malaysia. I also upped my reps building up to 5
minute, 6 minute, 8 minute, 10 minute and finally two lots of 20 minute reps.
That 20 minutes session was a tough one mentally but I knew it would help with
the race.
Yes Malaysia, it really did get in the way a little bit….I
love my running but I also know that it isn’t the be all and end all of my life
and my fiancée will, hopefully, be part of my life long after running has
abandoned me. So if she wants to go on holiday to exotic locations and take me
with her, who am I to say no. My training was going great, three weeks before
the race and we head off to Malaysia. Two days off training as we travelled via
Doha and Kuala Lumpur to Penang. The first morning I was down to the beach to
start my training. I knew it would be tough in the heat and humidity but I’d
done it in Langkawi a couple of years earlier so I knew I could train hard. But
the beach was unforgiving, it was very thin, very soft, and on a camber. Great
strength work for anyone but I wanted to achieve flowing speed in my runs and
this really wasn’t suitable. I covered about three miles, sinking, slipping and
sliding all the way, it was worse than cross country at Boggart Hole Clough.
The next morning I was on the treadmill and after a 39 minute 10k I was off it
again, my calf muscles had reacted badly and were stiffening up. I hobbled to
breakfast and for the rest of the day. The following morning I was back on the
treadmill, 200m later I was off, my calf muscles couldn’t take it. I hopped
onto a cross trainer, which at least gave me a workout. Cross trainer the next
day and then a day off, we were heading off early on a trip and I probably
needed to give the calf muscles a break. Next day I was back running, loops of
the car park, each loop took about 5 minutes, I did 6. Success, I was a bit
slow but my calf muscles didn’t react negatively so I would continue running on
the road for the rest of my holiday. I ran every morning on the roads by the
hotel, they were relatively safe, one major road junction to survive and then
just the odd moped rider on the wrong side and the rest were relatively quiet.
Every day, as my muscles recovered, I got a little faster. With two days of the
holiday to go I was starting to move at a good pace and then out of nowhere
three dogs came charging at me, barking and snarling. As the first one snapped
at my toes I did the expected, checked my watch, I was only 8 minutes into my
run. Then I realised this wasn’t a particularly good situation to be in, I was
in a street full of houses so it was unlikely that these were wild dogs, but a
bite from one of them would still require a visit to the hospital and I still
had 32 minutes to run. Somehow a combination of shouting and some nifty
footwork extricated me from a bad situation and I was soon on my way, agreeing
with a local who pointed out that the dogs were chasing me. Luckily my
persistence was stronger than theirs and a few houses on they stopped and
returned to laying on the ground licking their genitals, whilst I continued on
my run. The last day I couldn’t face risking crossing the junction or spending
hours in hospital so I ran 7 loops of the car park and only nearly got run over
once. That was it training done, we were off home the next day.
We arrived home at 5:30 in the morning on Friday, 8 days
before the race. We were both completely exhausted but I decided I needed to
get out there and run off the fatigue. It was so nice being back on familiar territory.
The run did feel odd, but I’d done enough post night shift runs in my past to
know that my body could take it and 8 miles later I felt good about my running.
The following day I met up with my mate Rob Tudor and we did a session
together, 8 x 5 minutes with 1 minute recovery. I still felt a bit washed out but
it was a solid run and the day after I managed a nice paced 8 miler. I was
going to gradually ease down for the race, on Monday I did 8 x 4 minutes with a
minute recovery, 6 miles on Tuesday, 8 x 3 mins with 1 minute on Wednesday, 6
on Thursday and rest Friday. I couldn’t really gain much in that last week and
I knew I wasn’t going to have a fantastic race but I would give it my best
shot. I realistically expected to finish between 4th and 6th
in my age group, though I was aiming for a medal and deep down I didn’t see why
I couldn’t win my age group, if I could just pull something miraculous and
surprising out of the bag (I’d done it before so never say never).
This was the start of what was to become a nasty cold spell.
On a positive it does seem to be a dry cold spell here in the North West,
normally it’s cold and damp which goes right through you, but the dry cold is
much more pleasant. I set off for Rhyl in 0C conditions, but no ice on the roads.
I arrived in Rhyl, no warmer but there was a bit of a breeze and that made it
feel even colder. I’d brought with me a variety of kit to wear, depending on
temperature, and decided on a merino long sleeve tee under my club vest, good
decision, I was never cold.
Despite the cold it wasn’t that unpleasant waiting for the
start, at least the sun was out. As we set off I tried to keep the leaders in
sight for as long as I could, reaching the first mile marker in 5:41. I felt ok
and I was starting to think I should be able to beat the 60 minute mark.
Somewhere during the 2nd mile I lost sight of the leaders, I also
lost some pace as I did a 6:11 mile, ‘oh dear’ I thought ‘maybe that sub 60 isn’t
going to be so easy’. It was definitely breezy heading out, I consoled myself
that at least the wind would be behind me on the way back. A few people came
past me, I tried to latch onto them but they eventually got away from me. I managed
to hook up with a couple of M45s, every time they got a little break I dug a
little deeper and managed to hang onto them. I had been reading some social
media comments from Eddy Lee, a great runner from the past who would tough out
his races, in the back of my mind I was thinking to myself that if I let these
two guys go I would let Eddy down. Mad thought I know but clutching at anything
that would make me run harder (more Rog psychology). Just after 4 miles we
turned off the promenade and did a little loop.
I reached 5 miles in 30:00. Not bad I thought, considering
my last race, in November, was a 5 mile race just up the road in Abergele, where
I’d finished in 29:54. If I could just do a negative split! Andy Peet, one of
the M45s I was running with obviously shared the same thought, he’d been a few
seconds ahead at 5 miles, at the end he was almost two minutes ahead of me in
58:45. I just couldn’t match his pace, but luckily I still had Peter Mallison
to hang onto. We ran together for a little while, he, at a discrete distance in
front getting cheered on by the South Cheshire Harrier ladies running the other
way, me just gritting my teeth. Back onto the promenade for the long run back
home he seemed to hit a dodgy patch and so I went past him and pushed on for
home. At this point I wasn’t really thinking about beating Peter, he was an M45
what did it matter, all I was focussed on was running as fast as I could to try
to break that 60 minute barrier, or at least not slip to far away from it.
Running down the promenade I felt like I kept my pace up, I
was pushing it, lets not forget I’ve only recently got over 9 miles in a training
run and certainly not at 6 minute mile pace. I thought I’d got a gap but with
400m to go I could hear footsteps. I didn’t care who it was, I had assumed
Peter had slipped back as he did seem to slow as I passed him, I knew I was
lying 4th in the M50s but if I wasn’t going to get a medal so it
wouldn’t matter too much if two M50s came past me. But another burst of
competitiveness took over and I upped my pace, just a little, as if to say ‘you
can beat me but you’re going to have to work for it’. A couple of little rises
and a long looping corner and I was through the finish line 1 hour and 34
seconds after I’d crossed the starting line. Five seconds behind came Peter, it
had been him all the time.
I felt ok, I knew I’d worked but I wasn’t exhausted, though
I couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for a cool down jog further than 200m. I was
disappointed with my time, I really hoped I could get under 60 minutes, it is
really hard to try to accept your limitations when you’ve been so much better.
I went back to the car to get changed and just as I arrived
I sneezed. A rather innocuous sneeze, I thought, but for the rest of and the
following day my nose wouldn’t stop streaming and I felt coldy. The next
morning I went for an easy run and my hamstring went, oh no it didn’t just go
it went at the furthest point from home, about 4 miles away. Clearly, despite
not running a spectacular time, I had pushed my body beyond it’s current
physical limit.
I’m recovering now, I thought it was a tear, but it may just
be a pull. I probably won’t run for the rest of the week, but who knows. Then I’ll
be getting on with some more longer runs and longer reps, I have my first half
marathon for 12 years coming up.
Incidentally I finished 24th in the race and 4th
M50, I’m currently ranked 9th M50 in the UK, over 10 miles. I know
that as the year progresses I’ll slide down the rankings but it’s nice to have
a sniff at a top 10 again after so many years.
 |
| After the event, Craig Pearson, David Smith (3rd M50) and me. Don't be fooled by the smile, the medal is just for running the distance. |
Written by Roger Alsop
