Pre-race
Having taken it really easy this week, steadily reducing my mileage while having short interval sessions, I’d hoped to deal with the continual drained feeling I’ve had in my legs of late. It seemed like it had worked, feeling energised in the morning and the excitement that comes with racing!
I’d been itching to race the Birmingham Black Country Half marathon – from Wolverhampton to Birmingham along the canal – for years now, and was glad to finally enter. And for the first time, it was one I figured I could actually race with a view to being first based on its average finish time over the last few years. However, a bit of research suggested the first and second finishers last year had taken it easy; third place was still a possibility though!
The race
Go!
A dozen or so of us were the first pack to set off in the staggered start; every twenty minutes or so, further packs would set off down the narrow canal path. I figured my target of 5:50/mile, so with a gentle tailwind and flat route I considered I could either go slightly faster or pick up the pace in the second half.
The plan fell apart before the first mile was out.
It’s felt really weird to have my legs ticking over quickly at 5k and 10k distance, and I thought I’d just really acclimatised myself to half and full marathons at the expense of shorter distances. But I suppose any kind of speed now seems to be a no-go, evidenced by a struggle to even maintain a low 6:00/mile pace for the first few miles.
Honestly, I could have given up there and then. Hitting the wall at 10k or 11 miles? I’m used to it. At two miles in? Oy vey. Pretty much the only thing keeping me going was that I didn’t have a choice but to continue; this was a point-to-point race, and I was far from home.
My only sense of positivity was that I wasn’t passed despite my pace dropping rapidly. Indeed, I was alone the entire run, the first 7 or so runners having left me from the first mile. The marshalls were nice though, and generally well-positioned (especially the ones with pom-poms at the halfway point!)
About 9 miles in, I did the one thing I’d resisted up until that point; a quick glance-back to see if I was still alone. Lo and behold, there was someone gaining on me! Giving me the kick up the shorts I needed, I used my arms more to power me forward. I ran with my head, which told me there’s no reason I shouldn’t just move my legs faster, instead of my heart which said there was nothing left. I used my pride, which wouldn’t allow me to get passed at this stage.
Eventually recognising my surroundings more as I approached the city centre, the sense of familiarity helped continue the momentum. Crazily, I had a surge during the last mile, finally achieving the 5:50/mile I should have had from the beginning!
Post-race
Finishing at 1:23:00 in 13th place, I gave thanks to my chaser for the incentive to keep going. His name? Sean! (there’s a metaphor there!)
My bad finishing time aside, I enjoyed the run, which I’ll just use as an informative experience. A number of factors contributed; gravelly paths reducing traction with my already grip-less trainers, tired legs, insufficient training. With that in mind, there’s no reason I wouldn’t enter it again to redeem myself. For now though, I’ll have a really relaxed low-mileage week, and hope that’ll suffice to kick-start my training again.
There was some positivity to come out of the day though; my wife bagged a PB by 2 minutes, 1:47!
The Shorn Runner 