Happily Ever After
Life in The Rural Retreat with a beautiful wife, three cats, garden wildlife, a camera, a computer – and increasing amounts about running
Earlier posts can be found on Adventures of a Lone Bass Player, where this blog began life. Recent entries can be found here.
Shivering In Yorkshire (Again)
by Russell Turner - 22:03 on 21 October 2019
My fourth marathon, two years and ten days after my first Couch to 5k run, was both a success and a failure: success because I improved my PB by 19mins to 5:29; failure because I could have done better.
I can’t even blame the terrible trip south from the Black Isle which featured a false start (because someone forgot her race number – I won’t name names), far too many A9 roadworks and tailbacks, a wrong turning in dismal grey rain at a junction I’ve successfully negotiated dozens of times before, a detour following a road accident caused by said rain, and an unplanned stopover 120 miles from York because it was 8.30pm, we’d been travelling for 11 hours, and Matchgirl and I couldn’t take any more. It’s no surprise that I intend to bypass the A9 on our return.
No, the fault is squarely mine. Despite planning a 1mile run/1min walk Yorkshire Marathon following an initial two miles with the 5hr pacer, I was seduced by the easy pace and companionable chat with fellow runner Graham from Durham to keep going until Mile 12. Where I ran out of steam. I’d run faster doing half marathons, yet after 12 miles the energy left me. The most likely cause was lack of nutrition: I’d lost track of what I was taking and finished with far too many unconsumed Bloks.
The official race pics are not out yet, so here’s one Paul took near the start.
Whatever, I managed to inject some running into every mile after that (a success in itself), interspersed with varying lengths of walk, and overcame an increasingly chill wind. I even overtook the madman, being encouraged around by a friend, who’d run the Yorkshire 3 Peaks Ultra the day before. Whether he’d done the 70 or 100k event I don’t know. He didn’t appear to be enjoying his marathon.
However, by Mile 19 I was 20mins behind the pace I’d set in my longest training run (a run/walk, of course) and a mile after that the rain began. The forecast had failed again. The rain continued on and off, sometimes in torrents, for the rest of the run. But was I downhearted? Just a bit, especially when both 5:30hr pacers (who’d started behind me) and their entourages passed me.
This was a mystery, for at 4:30 and four miles to go I knew that if I covered each mile in 15mins – a very modest pace – I could sneak inside a 5:30 finish, so I kept an eye on the Garmin, walked until the average pace began to drop too low than ran until it was respectable again.
Fortunately, the system worked. After walking and trotting up the final 300m incline – an unchallenging climb at any time except after almost 26 miles – I was greeted by the welcome sight of Matchgirl, Triathlon Cathy and UltraPaul encouraging me down the final 300m to the finish line. I summoned up a sprint, finishing with the fastest pace of the day, and crossed the line in 5:29:31.
I’d beaten my previous PB and cracked 5:30, my third and second targets, and as a bonus finished an hour faster than in London, six months earlier. My top target, the sub 5hr finish, remains tantalisingly just out of reach. So more success than failure.
The gloss was taken off my achievement by the Yorkshire Marathon organisers’ dismal lack of signage, which meant that by time I found my baggage, and the dry clothing within, the Arctic wind had combined with my sodden top to turn me into a shivering wreck. I was led to warmth by Matchgirl and Cathy (Paul had had to leave by then) dried off, covered in fleecy things and given tea which Matchgirl had to help me drink because my hands shook so much. My lips, she told me later, were an interesting shade of blue. Other runners had suffered similarly so I’m not a total wimp.
After 30mins or so I’d recovered enough to walk the mile back to our flat and a warm bath. I even managed to get out of it without assistance. Domino’s delivered pizza all round and we relaxed, admired each other’s medals and race shirts (Matchgirl and Cathy had run a very respectable 1:32 in the 10 mile race) and tried to ignore aching legs.
Although they were still a little sore this morning it was no problem to walk the mile to the railway station and back (refuelling along the way with spaghetti and meatballs – there are several days of eating ahead of me) where we bid farewell to Cathy. The day ended, after a swift visit to family in Wakefield, with the now traditional post-race curry at a very decent restaurant just a few minutes’ walk from the flat.
I now have, on strict instructions from Matchgirl, a two-week break from any running whatsoever, which seems sensible – it will be the longest break I’ve had in two years and ten days. After that, weather permitting, training will resume. It’s only seven months to the Edinburgh Marathon.
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