Racing Rituals

I'm just nicely home after a far too early start to a Sunday. I have just survived the horriblest race I can remember. No offence to Wilmslow mind, the course and event were race organisation at its best; with loads of loos and shiny bunches of bright balloons tied to the lampposts along the start and finishing miles. There were loads of supporters around the undulating course too, including quite a few mad villagers clanging pots and pans in a frenzy. It certainly worked as I managed to muster the odd spurt just to escape the racket.

Today was the English Half Marathon Champs so I’d been questioning my sanity entering this whilst so training tired. The timing of the event is great though and quite a nice course too. I set out this morning framing the day as a chance for a strong training run with a hope I’d come away with a great quality threshold session under my belt and a bit of a taste for racing again.

The line up was impressive with the likes of Michelle Ross-Cope and Rebecca Robinson; stars of English distance running and out for great times at London this year. I tried not to freak out at the other fantastic looking ladies around me; all small pants, rippling lady muscles and long socks. I quivered inside.

I’ve been keeping quiet about this but I’ve been enjoying some expert training advice of late from a very long established athletics coach. A new experience for me as I’ve never worked with a formal coach before. We’d discussed my strategy for race day over coffee last week. The idea was to let rip at the start and see how long I could hang on. So, let rip I did. 5.30 for mile one. The pace continued to be pretty frightening until mile 8 when things started to decline; the howling wind tunnel that met with every turn spat me out of the other side like an empty husk. Unfortunately, the recent training miles started to shout out at my legs to slow down and I gradually dropped off pace. The final miles slowing to over 6 minute miles and worse on some of the final climbs. Wilmslow is NOT a flat course!

Wilmslow is supposed to be fast. I reckon that’s more about the types that turn up to race than the course itself. I hit miles 9-12 with dead legs but in 5th place. Just as I recovered to run the final mile home I then got gazumped by two young and far too fresh looking lasses, leaving me dead in 7th place. I finished. Just. The time clocked 77.43 and I was so glad it was over. The race felt tough from start to finish and I felt desperate for home and a hot bubble bath. All in all though it was a great session on the back of what will be nearly 100 miles running this week. M drove home with a yawning and snoring RB in the passenger seat. Where would I be without him...? Race results here.