Category Archives: marathon

A weekend of Marathons, Wednesday, May 1, 2019

and half marathons, and 10ks, and …

London

pos (Overall)pos (Gender)pos (Category)NamebibCatHalfFinish
1KIPCHOGE Eliud (KEN)118-3902:02:37
1KOSGEI Brigid (KEN)10518-3902:18:20
677663133Littlewood Michael (GBR)193340-4401:21:2702:44:21
691676138Mason Michael (GBR)3046640-4401:20:4002:44:35
3692354251Thompson Emma (GBR)84218-3901:37:2203:12:58
17409124572268Shearsmith Chris (GBR)4985340-4401:59:2804:10:14
1891655001018Search Jenny (GBR)2452940-4402:05:2004:15:52
1937956692959Boal Rachel (GBR)1409018-3902:01:1504:17:41
208036229549Rankin Sarah (GBR)339850-5402:11:0404:23:22
2222268131212Rudkin Jill (GBR)2452840-4402:09:4804:28:18
24165164912929Brannan Lee (GBR)2452740-4402:09:1704:35:45
32938119842061Wood Fiona (GBR)1063740-4402:32:5405:14:26
340341258285Farnsworth Christine (GBR)3366665-6902:26:2905:20:47
37613146002451Littlewood Wendy (GBR)2768040-4402:34:3605:46:51

Blackpool

posNameBibGunChipSex
1STEVE HUGHES (WHEELCHAIR ATHLETE Lancaster Runners)104802:45:30.9202:44:59.25M
2UGIS DATAVS (Weshem Road Runners &AC)58902:48:18.0102:48:15.36M
4GARETH PRITCHARD164802:53:19.3702:53:16.85M
33SALLY WALLIS (Deeside Runners)208003:18:13.1903:18:06.68F
225DOUGIE NISBET148504:11:44.2504:10:54.72M
310CATHERINE SMITH184404:34:30.2804:33:47.60F

Stirling

posnamebibtime
1Michael Wright (Central Athletics Club)3502:29:32
532Anna Seeley12504:07:36

Have you been affected by any of the events mentioned above? What about events that haven’t been mentioned? Let us know.

 

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London Marathon 2019, Sunday, April 28, 2019

Emma Thompson

Back in 2009, with a few Great North Runs under by belt, I thought I might fancy London one day. I think it was still 5 refusals, then you get a place back then, so I threw my name in the ballot with a long-term plan. Surprisingly I got a place first time! But it wasn’t to be, and I had to defer a year. By April 2011 I had a 2-month-old baby, so marathon plans were shelved for a long time…

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The Schneider Electric Marathon De Paris 2019, Sunday, April 14, 2019

Mike Barlow

I suppose it’s about time I wrote a race report, I’ve been a member now for 2yrs and so far, managed to dodge that obligation, well I can dodge no more…

In my mind the Marathon is the pinnacle of running achievement, it is what I have aspired to since being a child and witnessing my Grandad knock out several as an Elswick Harrier. But as life unfolded, and my only running achievement since school was a 2:01 GNR in 2004, it appeared that particular ‘dream’ would elude me.

Fast forward 14ish years…

Continue reading The Schneider Electric Marathon De Paris 2019
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Kielder Dark Skies Run, Kielder, Northumberland, Saturday, March 23, 2019

26.5 miles

Simon Graham

Having completed the Hardmoors 50 the previous Saturday, and just about regained movement and feeling in my legs by the Wednesday on Saturday the 23rd of March I found myself on the start line of the Trail Outlaws Dark Skies 26.5 @ Kielder.

In contrast to last weeks storm Hannah, the weather at Kielder looked good, and there were mutterings of the Northern Lights making an appearance around 9 pm. It was looking promising to be a great night for some star gazing, plus a little 26.5-mile run.

In 2017 I had completed this event as my first ever Marathon. Having entered 2016’s event and broken my foot three weeks before. Back then (for the 2016 event) a storm had hit and I was actually pleased to be injured. The 2017 event provided clear skies and fantastic star gazing opportunities but sadly I didn’t make the most of them. This was my first marathon and I wanted to push hard to prove I could do it.

2019’s event was to be a different experience altogether. No pressure, just go out and enjoy it; taking in the ‘dark skies’.

The route itself runs in a clockwise direction around the perimeter of the Kielder Reservoir, which is, strangely enough, 26 miles (it’s like they planned the reservoir around a marathon route!). Starting out at the Hawkshead Scout Centre a quick loop around the grounds allows the field to thin out from the mass start and the fast lads (and lasses) can fight their way to the front. We were doing no such thing and started out at a comfortable pace, although this was somewhat faster than I had planned in my head. I say ‘We’ because I was joined on the start line by my better half Jill, Dave Toth, Crook AC’s Bill Ford and Sunderland Harrier Tony Erskine. Fellow Striders Eric Green and Club Chair Jonathan Hamill were with us on the start line, but within seconds of the off, they had disappeared.

Starting with a mile’s loop around the Hawkshead Scout site where you then run back through the start ‘funnel’ and head downhill towards the road before taking a right which takes you onto the lakeside path (Technically its a reservoir path but lakeside is easier to spell!). The first 6.5 ish miles to the first checkpoint follows the lakeside path up and down, up and down. I should point out that on this course you are either going up or going down, there are almost no fully flat sections.

The first three miles we’d been running at a quicker pace than I would have liked, and at some point, I knew I’d need to slow. It wasn’t a fast pace by any means, but the weekend before’s efforts had taken its toll. Heading up one of the (many) inclines I remember saying to Dave that I thought we were going a little fast, Dave agreed, but we didn’t seem to slow. Both Dave and Tony had also completed the Hardmoors 50 a week earlier. Gradually as we approached CP1 we did slow down and arrived at the Checkpoint in good spirits ready for some of the famous ‘Trail Outlaws Red Kola’. At least that was what I thought. After getting my cup of ‘Kola’ a very green looking Bill declared that he’d had enough and was off home. He did not look in a good way. We tried the usual “Come on”, “You’ll be fine” things, but his mind was made up. We later found off that Bill did continue for another couple of miles before turning around and returning to the Checkpoint. Something I was very great full for later on.

On we pressed out of CP1 and up the hill. Five had become four, and we had slowed things down. Anything bigger than a slight incline was now being walked.

Just after 7 pm at around 9.5 miles the light was fading and with dusk well and truly upon us, I made the decision to get my head torch out of my packs front pocket and onto my head. I turned it on to try it. It came on. Seconds later it went off again never to come back to life. I still haven’t looked at why the head torch failed on me.

I’d changed the batteries in my head torch just the day before, having used it extensively the week before. I couldn’t believe it, no head torch. Just what I needed. Part of the mandatory kit for the race was a head torch and spare batteries. Fortunately, I had a spare head torch, this was just at the very bottom of my race pack, having put it there on purpose since I hadn’t planned on needing it. As it was not yet fully dark we headed on to CP2 with the intention of using my spare head torch from there onward. None of the others were yet using their head torches, so I was ok for now.

At CP2 my priority was to get to the spare head torch and get it on my head, I did this, repacked my bag, refuelled with more ‘Red Kola’ and pretzels and we were off on our way. I tested my head torch to make sure it worked and thankfully it did. What I hadn’t done with this torch though was changed the batteries. I’d used it in the past but not for long periods, so hoped it would be ok. With this in mind, I opted to allow the light from others torches guide me round to save the batteries in mine for when I really needed it. This worked great for me apart from in the darkened forest parts when I really needed the extra light.

Between CP2 and CP3 there are a lot of quite steep climbs followed by descents, so by now the pace was definitely slowing and I could feel the high mileage in my legs. Power walking uphill was fine, running the descents was destroying my right knee with each step. I could feel my body changing the way I was landing to minimise the impact. I started to drop back from the other three in our group at times downhill, catching them up as they slowed to a walk on the up.

Fellow Strider Sarah Fawcett had joined our little group by now, and I can’t recall if we’d caught her or her us, but she was not having a good race. We all stayed together to CP3, at 16 miles and the Dam. Sarah set off ahead of us. Over the Dam is the only fully flat section of this race and makes a nice change from constant climbs and descents, but for me, by now the damage was done. I was tired and could feel myself slowly falling behind the others, but then pushing on a bit to keep with them. On towards the 17-18 mile CP we went. We had again caught up with Sarah, who seemed to be really struggling. She would admit this though. I wasn’t going to admit that I was tired and starting to need to slow the pace even further.

The five of us (Myself, Tony, Jill, Sarah and Dave) reached CP4 almost as a unit, though Dave and Tony were ahead of us. Jill was sitting comfortably in the middle of the pack and I was at the rear with Sarah. I recall saying to her that I wasn’t going to get any faster than this, so she should just try and stick with us to the end.

Leaving CP4 as a group Dave and Tony were pressing on ahead and I knew that we needed to just let them go, for a few miles the distance was only metres, but as the miles increased they got further and further away. Sarah was still with us though and although struggling we stayed together with Jill and I overtaking Sarah, then her passing us.

The wall…

Somewhere between mile 20 and 21, Jill hit a wall. Not the mental ‘I can’t go on’ kind of wall, but her body had clearly depleted all of its energy stores and she was feeling sick. Despite refuelling, at each checkpoint, your body depletes energy faster than you can put it in during a marathon and Jill’s was definitely depleted. Jill was stumbling, almost falling into a ditch. Fuel was needed and fast. Fortunately, Jill had picked up a banana at the previous checkpoint and ate this and some cashew nuts she was carrying. We walked whilst she tried to get fuel into her body. Jill wasn’t giving in though and despite us walking she was power walking. Please just slow down for a bit I was thinking, as much for her as for my own tired body (I can’t walk as fast as Jill either).

We walked and ‘ultra’ shuffled for a couple of miles, still with Sarah nearby. Dave and Tony had by now long since left us, and were happily running their own race. I’d said all along that I wasn’t leaving Jill and despite her still struggling we pressed on. Not finishing was never an option.

By the time we had reached the woods that bring you into Leaplish and the 24 mile CP Jill was again feeling strong and we were run (shuffle) walking. By this point we had lost Sarah further behind us, she was by now really struggling. In order for us to finish, we had to do what was best for us and kept moving. Not at a fast pace, just moving forward.

At the Leaplish CP, we had a quick water refill and were off 1.7 miles to go. By now Jill had replenished her energy supplies and was again feeling strong. I, on the other hand, was tired and starting to really struggle. I didn’t let on though. From what I can recall we ran large sections of the last 1.7 miles to the finish, Jill was leading me along. At the final hill to the Scout site, Jill was about 10 meters ahead of me shouting “Come on”. I’ll not say what I was thinking at the time.

Up the hill, around the corner and into the hall to finish. We had done it. 5 hours 47 minutes. Nowhere near PB times, but the end goal had been achieved.

At the finish, we were greeted by Tony, Dave and Rachel Toth who were conveniently standing next to the Jelly Babies. I ate a lot of Jelly Babies! Bill Ford joined us looking rather refreshed. He’d been changed, had a massage, watched the first finishers come in, but most importantly of all he’d been to collect Jill’s car from the overflow car park and brought it to the finish meaning we could make a quick getaway. We said our goodbye’s, saw Jonathan Hamill eating cake and were off for pizza and drinks.

I found out the following morning that Sarah had made it to the finish after stopping for some rest at Leaplish. Sorry we didn’t hang around!

As a footnote, the Northern Lights didn’t show up and we saw very few stars since it was cloudy.

Name TimePositionGenderGender PosCatCat Pos
JonathanHamill04:37:51140Male118M4047
EricGreen04:45:09164Male134M5024
BobMetcalf04:51:05188Male148M4063
CorrinaJames05:08:04227Female59F4023
LouiseBarrow05:22:41274Female83F40
LisaSample05:22:44275Female84F41
DaveToth05:23:58280Male195M5039
AshleyPrice-Sabate05:39:52318Female105F5017
JillRudkin05:43:34329Female113F4045
KarenMetters05:45:30334Female116F4048
HelenThomas05:45:03335Female117F4049
JillYoung05:47:09337Female118F48
SimonGraham05:47:20338Male220M78
SarahFawcett05:56:32349Female122F5020
KarenWilson06:14:33377Female133F4056
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Hardmoors Saltburn marathon, Saltburn Leisure Centre, Sunday, February 10, 2019

Mark Kearney

Chapter 1; Saltburn Marathon

“Please can we go to Saltburn in February” is a phrase few will say whom are of sound and rational mind and there are many good reasons for that……however as a trail runner and lover of Hardmoors it is a necessity to arrive bright and early on a Sunday morning, at that time of the year and in that very location.

The Half Marathon at Saltburn in 2017 was my first ‘trail’ run and was perhaps the hardest 15 mile I had ever ran.  Yes, I had completed Marathons and events in the past, but nothing compared me for the climbs, mud, sleet, hail, rain, snow, wind with the occasional presence of sunshine over a 2-hour period.

Now we fast forward two years and after the mental and physical torture of 2017 we have added multiple Hardmoors experiences to the locker and now think its big and clever to double the distance and take on the marathon series.

Training had gone well, a good result in the HM30 the month before and I felt confident going into the race with some good miles behind me.  A recce in the snow the week before had given some knowledge of the elevation and terrain of the back half of the route and on checking the weather forecast no more snow was due; only winds provided by some storm called Eric.

The morning of the race was surprisingly calm, the wind had gone, no rain, no snow, no hail…was this Saltburn? The conditions near perfect weather wise as we parked up and registered for the event.  As usual, seamless teamwork from the Hardmoors family as we registered, smiley face for the kit check and we packed our bags in readiness for the race briefing and the call to go outside and toe the line. Walking out we passed Striders Simon Graham and Jill Young, happily saluting us with coffee cups and wishing us good luck…..with the caveat that they are not as crazy as us and are happy to be taking part in the half marathon, due to start at 10am.

We walk outside on mass, traffic stopped, marshalls in place and Jon says we’re off; so we’re off…. down a main road (at least in force so some element of safety) until we hit the track into the dene to drop to the coast. The leader seemingly intent to break away, hitting a fast paced first mile to the coast before the coastal trail path sections and the first flight of steps….slowing us all down as we walk the climb.  The course taking the scenic coastal path route, along the cliff tops into the bay and then back up for the climb to the top of Loftus before a fast paced tarmac section.  A chance to open the legs after a firm but damp section along the trails.  Seeing friends and fellow runners marshalling and exchanging in general banter as we continue on our merry way.

In a true fashion the trails continued to undulate, generally following the bows of yellow tape placed in many part by our very own Dave Toth in the days before.  Climbs followed drop, drops and climbs, stairs, steps and hills with few flat and fast sections in between before we start to reach mile 18-19 and the Tees Link up to High Cliff Nab.  For those not familiar with this section of Guisborough woods I would encourage you all to have a trip out and take in the elevation and views at the summit, the climb can be challenging in the best of conditions and after the recent snow this climb was the hardest I have experienced in running these events.  Unfortunately, the view from the top was one I couldn’t appreciate during the race but looks good on google.

This was the hardest and biggest climb of the race with a long run back through the woods and over to Quakers Causeway before heading down to Boosebeck and climbing to Skelton.  The taping of the route and support of the marshals was impeccable throughout the route with fully stocked refreshment points and supportive encouragement throughout.  The views, freedom and lack of people and animals on the moors is one of peacefulness; no noise, traffic and only the voice in your head to talk to as you cover the boggy moor landscape.  Michelle likes to comment that listening to me have a conversation with myself is her idea of torture; I quite like it as I generally turn out to be right when I’m finished my discussion.

Reaching the other side of Boosebeck enables the Marathon race to join the end of the half marathon route and it was good to see runners again, to be able to say hello and not continually look for yellow tape as I could follow the pack, to target people to try and reach and have a little competition with myself for the final couple of miles.  Dropping down the steps I had expected to see Dave Toth at his marshalling point but apparently, he had popped to the shop for refreshments so we continued on back into the dene and the final climb to the main road where the finish line and the leisure centre awaited. 

Running into the hall, stopping the watch and desperate for a shower I was happy to end in a time of c3:48 minutes and take first place.  Happy the race had gone to plan, pushing on when required and all in better conditions that we could imagined.

I would encourage anyone to take part, try a 10k(ish) if you’re not sure and I would be surprised if even a little bit of you didn’t enjoy the event and people involved.

Round 1 completed, 6 to go……

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‘Running My Way’ by Tamsin Imber, Monday, December 17, 2018

Tamsin Imber

Grab a cuppa, maybe some cake, and enjoy a light-hearted read. ‘Running My Way’  is a celebration of taking life by the horns. It documents…

  • What happens when Tamsin, a busy working mum of two, immerses herself in the joy of running and discovers running ‘her way’. From the curiously meditative experience of running hard on a track, to the adventures of running 30 miles across the North York Moors sustained by frozen Jaffa Cakes.
  • The passion and friendliness of the running community, united by the simple act and immense liberation of putting one foot in front of the other (lots of times).
  • The joy of running with wild abandon through the bogs, moors and woods of the countryside.
  • Why the challenge of competitive running is truly addictive. And why you shouldn’t beat yourself up if you don’t get a Personal Best.
  • Why CFS/ME (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome/Myalgic Encephalomyelitis) is a serious and life restricting illness. 

 

As follows is an extract from this book by kind permission from Pitch Publishing.

The ‘Hardmoors ‘White Horse Marathon’ North Yorkshire Moors. (28miles, hilly), May 2015.

Driving down the A19 was like driving through the sea! The heavy rain beat down hard and bounced straight back up off the road. The wind came in gusts and repeatedly slammed rain into the side of the car. The car air conditioning roared loudly at full blast as GH (gorgeous husband) battled to demist the windows. Through all this noise the words of James Bay were occasionally caught as the song ‘Cry me a River’ played on the radio! No need to cry, we already had a river! I half wondered if it would be cancelled.  Had I met the organiser of the Hardmoors series, I would have known how unlikely this was!  For now, I really hoped it was on. I was buzzing with excitement!

After our little white Fiat Panda had struggled up the steep angles of Sutton Bank, GH and the kids dropped me off and made haste to warm indoor places in York. The warm inviting car drove away and I was abandoned in the heavy rain in a deserted Sutton Bank visitor centre early on a dim morning in May. In a moment of inspiration I had grabbed my ancient, ‘car-to- work- entrance’ umbrella from the car just before it drove off, and I now tried to shelter underneath it.  This umbrella was useless as the spokes on one side had been bent a long time ago and the thing turned inside out whenever it knew a big blast of wet wind was coming my way. I skidadeled to the visitor centre, hoping to find some shelter. As I got closer I noticed a small group of runners sheltering beneath the roof between the two visitor centre buildings. They were all smiling! Had they not noticed there was a gale outside? One guy was even stripping off in an act of defiant optimism! I was slightly cold!  One lady had come all the way from Norway to experience the North York Moors. I think she was going to get a true experience!

I realised I needed to collect my race number so asked for directions. They pointed me towards the front of the visitor centre. There in small field was a small white tent flapping about for dear life in the breeze! Umbrella up, I braced myself to the elements and made a run for the tent, slip sliding on the mud. My umbrella laughed at me mockingly and used it as another great opportunity to turn inside out.

In the tent I found another group of sheltering runners and marshals giving out numbers. I collected my number and cowered in the tent for a bit. It got closer to the start time, so I joined everyone now congregating behind the start and I shivered beneath my merciless umbrella as the heavens delivered further onslaughts of sheets of water.  In a sudden big gust my umbrella then whacked me in the face. I tried to show it who was boss by throwing it into a nearby bin. Soon a big, strong and tough looking man appeared. He looked like he had come from the army! This turned out to be the Hardmoors organiser. He gave a strict briefing in true style, one that I would come to know and love over the next year, rounding off with a “ OK you ‘orrible lot. Five, four, three, two one, go suffer!”

There was nothing left to do but to embrace the heavens! First along the top of a wood along the top of the escarpment. It was slightly more sheltered with this tree barrier.  I didn’t have a hood as I hadn’t been able to find a cheap water proof jacket with hood in my copious spare time, just a thin wooley hat on my head. My hat soon became soaked through, but it was a warm, heavy wet thing on my head which was better than nothing on my head. We ran along a rutted, rocky footpath, which necessitated sighting ahead to find the best foot landings without falling over. This was difficult through my rain streaming glasses. Then it was down a steep mud bank and around Goremire lake, which is a very nice hidden gem. There were marshals around the lake which helped as there were a myriad of little muddy paths here and there. Once round the lake it was a steep mud bank, back up on to the moor.  The mud back was churned up by all the runners ahead and I was on my knees at times!

Then we ran away from the edge, and higher up on to the open wild exposed Moors! It really could not have got any wetter! I cannot report on the views. I just saw a watery scene with some heather in it. Due to my impaired vision it was hard to navigate. After five or so miles, there was a path off to the right. Was this our path? Luckily my map was accessible and cling-filmed, stowed in my new, still cheap, but larger, running rucksack. I could not see the map, but others could, and this confirmed we did indeed need to take this path.

Brilliant! We were now running south west, the rain behind us with a downhill trend. Lovely!  On a steep muddy descent my road shoes were a bit like ice skates and I had to gingerly slow down to a tip toe. There were six guys just behind me at this point. They waited patiently, offering encouragement! I felt very bad holding them up though so let them past as soon as I could find a vaguely firm surface to stand on. Then it was to a forest. I put on a surge and managed to catch the guys up. I was surprised to find I wasn’t so keen on people passing me! I kept up with them along the wider track through the edge of the forest. They put on a good pace! Hooray, it had stopped raining now! Eventually the guys out-paced me and disappeared into the distance.

I was now running alone through private land. (The organiser had negotiated with the land owner to enable us to run through this area, due to a problem with the original route).  This felt nicely well off the beaten track! It was a wooded area of recent tree felling and machines and vehicles had churned up the land. Spindly tree branches lay across the path spiking me through my leggings. Underfoot was soft rutted mud. At one point I had to haul myself up a bank of tree branches! I hadn’t had so much fun for ages! Eventually I came to the other side of the dendrous*[1]obstacle course, to meet a smart little road. Tarmac felt like a luxury product! At a junction I was unsure of which way to go. I admit to being very lazy and instead of wrestling my numb fingers with wet zips to get the map out I just waited until the runner behind caught me up. He seemed surprised to see me standing there. He was very polite and also confident about the route. We ran on together and enjoyed some conversation. The bit on the road was not for long and we soon found ourselves running across a flat valley bottom through grassy and boggy fields. We talked about the possibility of trench foot. The valley was steep sided and wooded. Then ahead I saw the most beautiful sight! It was Riveaux Abbey, shrouded in the low mist which blended into a white sky. The Abbey looked eerie and majestic. Given the weather, the Abbey grounds were deserted and we had this peaceful sight to ourselves. A lone marshal directed us over a stone hump back bridge and we headed back West, admittedly still a fair few miles to go, but West nevertheless which uplifted my spirits and gave the legs a new boost of energy from places unknown.

It was round further woods and grassy fields we went, more ups and downs, to reach a final checkpoint. The Hardmoors series is entirely run by these amazing volunteers who stand in bad weather at wild outposts for hours, who are always smiling and encouraging and some even bring home baking! Some are runners, others are friends. I thank them, and did no more so than at this point when I was feeling the distance. I was offered a cup of delicious cool water and home made shortbread! It was nice to chat and stay a while! Then back to the task at hand, to get to Sutton Bank Visitor centre. After more knee wrenchingly muddy paths, came a rather less attractive track, with less attractive views. I guess we were right off to the south of the Moors now. It was  past featureless ploughed fields. It was very long. I was felt really hungry and had a craving for meat. As I passed a lone grass pasture I eyed up the sheep.

I caught up some others and we walked up a hill, discussing the gravity of the situation to justify walking! Groups of walkers with dogs appeared in the wooded area a mile from the Visitor Centre. Then at long last the Visitor Centre was ahead! Just a case of getting round to the tent! The sun shone down warmly and the car park was now full and a buzzing scene of happy picnickers and families! I stumbled along the side of the car park to be cheered on by a few runners, (some of whom I recognised from earlier) who had already finished. Finally I was back in the tent and a marshal took my number down. I was a bit stunned at how much of the North York Moors you can see in a morning if you want to! My family returned from a good morning seeing the museums of York and we went to the Visitor Centre café to exchange experiences. I also got a sausage sandwich!

The next day was a Monday and I turned up at the women’s running group! I had heard the word ‘recovery run’ bandied about, but wasn’t sure really what it meant. A slow run to ease the legs maybe? I’m not sure I could do that! My legs were so stiff I had to kind of walk down the stairs like a robot without bending my legs. Sitting down was painful, and at home the repeated sweeping of the floor necessitated by children meant flipping myself from standing to press up position without bending the legs, sweeping up lying down, then snaking to the bin! At the track I decided to cheer people on, then enjoyed the café! I told the woman’s running group leader about my post race mobility. She looked at me wryly and said well done. She asked me how the route had been. I’ve no idea, I replied I hadn’t seen 95 per cent of it what with the rain on my glasses!

If you wish to read more, Tamsin’s book is available to pre-order from Waterstones and Amazon websites. It is available from these websites and in bookshops from 17thDecember 2018. 

https://www.pitchpublishing.co.uk/shop/running-my-way

[1]          Dendrous: Made of twisting tree branches, logs and other forest furniture.

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Venice Marathon, Sunday, October 28, 2018

Sarah Fawcett

Not as impressive a performance as Stephen Jackson’s marathon but he didn’t mention jellyfish!

I promised Catherine Smith that I would write a race report if I finished today. I must have had a feeling it wasn’t going to be as good a result as I hoped.

I booked the Venice Marathon and 5 days in Italy months ago, but yesterday I was thinking of only doing UK ones hereafter.

It’s been stressful as I don’t speak Italian and I’m out here solo. From Airbnb reservation issues to having to navigate every sort of public transport; clocks changing on marathon eve; and, a persistent low-level headache all week, I’ve set the scene for you with all my excuses!

Well the taxi did turn up this morning at the only time I could book and 10-mins early to boot, and I got to the start before anyone else. Have you ever seen a bank of portable loos with no one queuing?

People soon started arriving by the busload, just as the rain and lightning appeared. It became apparent that the baggage buses were going to leave 15-mins ahead of the posters in the tent. The multilingual announcements were very good. The lorries ended up driving to the port then being put on boats to get them to the finish. Such is Venice. Still, ages to visit the loos – manageable queues- yes, I’m obsessed. Good to get out of the eye-watering fug of embrocation in the tent and the flooded floor.

 

The sun came out and the race started 20-mins earlier than advertised – see a pattern?

The route follows the River Brenta from Stra past glorious 17th and 18th Century villas – the summer residences of rich Venetians. Thinking of the contrast to the snow in Durham yesterday, I was wishing I had shorts on, not 3/4 lengths. All was fine until about 10 miles then I recognised that it was feeling like a slog. A poor halfway time of 2.24 and those demons started working- was I going to be able to finish?

But I had come all this way… From mile 16 I was run/walking and I couldn’t have told you what the scenery was. There was 2km in San Guiliano Park where the expo was and then some industrial area before the beast that was the 4km road and train link from the mainland to the island.

Today it was a headwind and spray and a view of a tumultuous sea. I walked most of it, as did those around me. We were all struggling.

It was a relief to reach Venice out of the wind, marginally, but after crossing a specially constructed pontoon, put across the Grand Canal for the race, it wasn’t long before we were all shocked by the path ahead; it was flooded by the tide for the entire last 2 miles. Not a little puddle, but a gutsy, wave breaking, ankle deep jobbie.

The ramps over the bridges, instead of being dreaded, were welcomed as dry land. This seafront stretch is where I saw the jellyfish on the “ path” and hoped no one was going to tread on it in the same way that I normally observe beetles or slugs on marathon paths.

I was relieved to reach the end. I hadn’t performed well at 5:09, my slowest road marathon, but at least I have the medal. Catherine Smith tells me the flooded end has reached FB if you want a laugh.Would I do it again? Probably not.

I think Venice is a beautiful city to visit but I don’t need to run to it. At this point, I’m not even sure I want to do another marathon!!

[Footnote added by Sarah on 30 October, 2 days after the Marathon:  Actually it is now no laughing matter. By Monday 70% of Venice was flooded in the worst tides they have seen for 50 years.]

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The Chelmsford Marathon 2018, Sunday, October 21, 2018

Stephen Jackson

This is a race that would never have been on my radar at all had it not been on the doorstep for my younger brother, Gerard, who lived a couple of miles outside the City. He had run his first marathon in Manchester in April 2018 and we had agreed to run his ‘hometown’ race later in the year. Gerard had managed a very credible 04:07:22 on his first attempt but felt confident he could follow it up with a better time without the logistics of travelling to a ‘big City’ marathon (and also benefit from doing some proper training).

Having only participated in one road marathon per annum (quite enough, if you ask me) for the previous 3-4 years, I initially intimated I would run with him. In hindsight, that was probably never going to happen with the prospect of racing for a new PB too tempting, having fallen just short of my best at a ‘warm’ London marathon earlier in the year.

It was to be a nice trip, one we were all looking forward to as it coincided nicely with school half term and the weather is always a few degrees warmer in the South-East. However, on the 24th August 2018, my only brother died tragically and that second marathon wasn’t to be.

During that awful first week following Gerard’s death, it occurred to me that he had entered the marathon and at that point, I just hadn’t got round to it. I had a chat with my wife, Vics, and I decided that I would contact the organiser’s to transfer the number into my name and run the race in his honour. The truth was that I was looking for a focus, a reason to maintain some disciplined training. Running continues to be a huge positive in my life, both physically and mentally.

On the morning of Friday 21st September 2018, I wrote myself a 4-week training plan for the Chelmsford marathon. I’d been running 60-80 miles a week throughout the summer and had already ‘banked’ a 25-mile long run with club captains’ new and old (Michael and Gareth). The plan was to do a ‘short and sharp’ focussed build-up using some of the same sessions I’d worked on in previous years with coach Allan. 100 miles, 80 miles, 50 miles, taper; easy.

By the evening of Friday 21st September 2018, I couldn’t walk from my bed to the en-suite bathroom because of a sharp pain in my left calf; the following morning it felt worse. By the Sunday I’d popped the marathon plan in the recycling bin and booked a physio appointment. I’d decided the injury was a calf strain – I was calling it a strain as that sounded less severe than it felt; it felt like I’d torn part of the muscle.

By the Monday morning, I’d seen Neil at Platinum physiotherapy and I was ‘cross training’ by Wednesday; a swim in the pool followed by 45 minutes in the gym. I managed a full seven days without running before I attempted an easy parkrun at Durham (mostly on grass).

The following two weeks could probably be described as gung-ho. Back up to marathon volume (two 10k runs a day – 140km per week) whilst walking the tightrope between injury and recovery. I didn’t feel fully fit, but I could run – just about. I was seeing Neil or someone at the team at Platinum twice a week. As the calf recovered I triggered some other niggles as I unconsciously adjusted my running gait. Oiled fingers, thumbs, forearms and elbows were applied with pressure into my hamstrings, quads, glutes and back as I discussed running and life in general through gritted teeth.
I was getting there.

With less than two weeks to go before the marathon, I attempted my final ‘long run’ with some trepidation. I’d loosely scheduled to do some work at as yet undetermined marathon pace but the real goal was to be pain-free running. With Michael recovering from the Kielder marathon and Gareth out of the country, my training partner for the day was Vics; on two-wheels with gels in her pockets and a bottle of water in her back-pack – what a hero.

If anyone is still reading this I’d be interested to know if this is the furthest into a race report anyone has got without mentioning the race itself? Answers on the back of a race number to the usual address.

By race day I felt good physically, no niggles and my legs actually felt quite fresh, possibly due to the enforced week of rest. The marathon is a distance that can chew you up and spit you out, but it can be tamed with a diligent approach. Having run 6 over the previous 5 years I was aware of most of the mistakes that can be made; on my debut in Nottingham, I made the baffling decision to not take so much as a sip of water throughout the entire race. By now, I know what time to set my alarm so the routine can begin; water, coffee, toilet, breakfast, toilet (again) and so on. I drop my bag at 08:45 and jog half a mile to the start. I have one final wee in Costa Coffee and stand on the start line – there are 20-30 runners within the ‘sub-3-hour section’, London Marathon, it ain’t.

It occurs to me that I’m likely to be racing fellow runners as opposed to my watch and a pre-determined goal time. I make the decision to go with the lead group for the first mile and assess the situation. Three or four years previously Paul Martinelli had won the race (for context, he ran 02:18 this year in Berlin) but I knew that six-minute-miles would have you ‘in the mix’ most years.

There were a few twists and turns during the first two or three miles, as runners were taken out of the City Centre and by 5km there was a group of 5-6 runners just behind the lead bike, including myself. The pace was brisk but soon settled to approximately 6-minute miles in old money (my watch was beeping each km between 03:40 and 03:45).

There was a name I recognised, a local runner called Crispian was getting lots of support. I knew he’d won it on a previous occasion and although now in his forties had a fantastic pedigree as a club runner (his Power of 10 is a fascinating read)

We reached 10 miles in just under 59 minutes and the group of six had become three; Crispian moved 5-10 metres ahead and seemed to be getting quicker. Sure enough, my watch beeped 03:33/km; which was 2 hours 30 pace, too quick for me but not for him? I did the only sensible thing I could think of and moved back to the front, running faster still I dropped my shoulders and shook my arms off – a bit of bravado that was to suggest I was finding this easy (I wasn’t).

This seemed to have the desired effect as the pace settled back towards 6-minute miles and the three of took turns to take the lead and the miles through country lanes were ‘ground out’ with only the occasional Sunday cyclist and the odd car for company.

I had no plans of trying to make a move for the win until the last 5km or so but just after the 20 mile marker I suddenly realised that I was on my own at the top of an incline, not significantly but enough that it no longer felt like I was running as part of a group. By 22 miles the guy on the lead bike told me I had a gap of about 400m, but remembering I had a guy behind me with a 2.29 PB I was taking nothing for granted.

I did, however, feel remarkably fresh considering I was well over twenty miles into a marathon. I started to push a little bit as the splits started to creep towards half marathon pace and I ran the final 5km in about 17 minutes, this was turning into the best performance of my running career to date. I knew the gap had increased and the race was mine to lose, I discarded a sweaty cap at mile 25 and blew Vics and the girls a kiss, one more mile – I could run a mile.

I’d done some maths in my head and though I could be on for sub 02:35 so I was absolutely delighted to see the clock on 02:34 as I turned the final corner and hurtled towards the finish line and let out a roar.

02:34:17 – that one was for Gerard.

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Asda Foundation Yorkshire Marathon, York, Sunday, October 14, 2018

Corrine Whaling

Our journey to York began the day before the marathon with a playlist of rain-related songs following on from Jonathon’s Facebook suggestion that we all learn “Singing in the rain” – turns out there are a surprising number of alternatives out there (Travis: Why does it always rain on me, Garbage: I’m only happy when it rains, and Rhianna: Umbrella were our favourites!). Suffice to say we were preparing ourselves for a wet soggy run….

On the morning of the race, we got a lift to the station from family and joined the long queue of people waiting for the shuttle bus from the railway station to the University campus. I couldn’t fault the organization for the rest of the day, however, this aspect could have done with some thinking through! Pay as you board meant that getting on the bus took an age, the organisers’ assurance that runners would be prioritized wasn’t followed, and all the while we were getting wetter and wetter. Our Poundland ponchos were undoubtedly the best purchase of the weekend! Rory tried to keep me distracted by making numerous suggestions about ways in which the bus system could have been remedied, but at that point anxiety was building (I was late for the GNR one year having queued in vain for the portable loos and missed getting into the starting pen resulting in a vault over the barriers – I am now absolutely obsessed about getting to the start of races early and so this bus wait was no good for me at all!). Eventually, we boarded and started the short journey to the campus.

On arrival, Rory and I dropped bags (super efficient system), and then decided to do our own thing and meet afterwards– which was probably for the best with regards to maintaining marital harmony given how snappy I was with him at that stage! Luckily I bumped into fellow Striders, Karen and Lesley, and had a lovely chat, which helped to calm my nerves.

The start was fabulous – lovely chatty people in the pen, all bonding over the atrocious weather conditions, which had, in a lovely way, taken the pressure off with regards expectations of the race. We set off on time, all still wrapped in jumpers/ponchos/bin liners.

The first mile flew by, and I set off far faster than I had intended. The route heads into York, and by the first mile-marker I had warmed up sufficiently to ditch my charity shop purchased fleece but was still holding on firmly to the poncho! As we approached mile 2 we passed York Minster with its fabulous bells, which was an amazing sight and sound on a Sunday morning.

We then headed out into the suburbs and towards the countryside – at around mile 3 I felt like a boil-in-the-bag runner, and finally had to ditch the poncho! I had planned to slow down at this point but felt good so kept the pace up. Mile 5 took us into Stockton on the Forest, which was, without a doubt, one of the high points of the marathon for me. On our way into the village a group of girls from the group I used to run with before we moved to Durham were cheering – I had a lovely hug from one of the girls I had run Manchester with, which gave me the lift I needed. Then onto the high-fiving vicar and the congregation who were all out supporting!

After that, the route was through country lanes, with long stretches without any crowds. Normally I quite like that, but I think the rain took its toll on my spirits, and I really enjoyed the villages and cheering. I particularly loved the pipe band at mile 7, being Scottish this was absolutely amazing – hands in the air clapping moment! Unfortunately, that also heralded the moments the heavens opened…It had been raining solidly prior to that but with little force, after that point, it rained heavily with no let-up or stop (until we were in the car journey home!). This meant that for much for the rest of the run lots of time was spent looking at the ground trying to dodge puddles, or trying to dodge the relay runners – I guess when you are doing 6 miles it doesn’t matter too much if you get wet feet, but I was very keen to avoid getting wetter than I needed to! Again I planned to slow down at mile 10 but felt good, so kept the pace up….

Entering Sand Hutton approaching mile 11 there was a stretch of road that was totally flooded with horrible sandy water – I guess there must be a lot of sand in the ground in Sand Hutton, an aptly named village!

Between mile 13 and 15 came the first loopback, I planned to slow down after the half but felt good, so kept going, and the same story at mile 15! The loopback allowed me a couple of shouts of “Go Strider” as Elaine and Anna passed going the other way in super speedy time.

Then another loopback at miles 16-20 gave me a glimpse of Rory, who looked strong despite having just finished the uphill part of the loopback. If I had one real criticism of the race it would be that the loopback there was just nasty! A gradual decline on the way out, whilst all the time looking at the people struggling with the gradual incline on the 2-mile stretch back up again – mean! Thankfully my water bottle needed refilling and Tailwind adding, all of which I hadn’t practised whilst running – the fiddling on with all of this totally distracted me from the climb, which was done before I’d realized!

Thereafter I did purposefully slow down my pace, realising that I needed to reign it in to avoid being in a whole world of trouble later on. I found mile 22 really tough, but then the mantras of “Only a Parkrun to go” and “Just jog it home now” kept me going (I’d run my first marathon using The Non-Runners Marathon Training Guide, which is big on getting you to practice and repeat your own mantras/phrases throughout the marathon, and I have found that this really helps me)

The last mile contains a sharp uphill stretch, although living in Durham, it was nothing compared to what we are used to! What goes up must come down, with the result that the finishing straight is downhill – the atmosphere here was incredible, supporters aplenty and brilliant tunes. I ended with a song and a sprint and finished well within my sub-4 goal with a time of 3:52:02, representing a 21-minute PB for me.

I enjoyed a nice chat with Anna at the baggage reclaim (system slightly less efficient at this point!), and then back home for the nicest cup of tea I have ever had!

Pos.Bib No.NameGenderCat.Chip TimeGender Pos.Cat. Pos.Chip Pos.
2781206Allan RenwickMaleM4503:11:3526550270
3331201Rory WhalingMaleM4503:15:3131560338
4351200Elaine BissonFemaleF4003:21:452810441
5161202Mark GriffithsMaleM4003:25:1647987539
5851203James GarlandMaleM4003:26:30541105576
12551209Anna SeeleyFemaleF3503:51:00188311329
19381211Lesley HamillFemaleF4504:09:13378381971
20511212Karen ByngFemaleF4504:12:39416412069
26811220Jane DowsettFemaleF5004:27:06681572568
28451056kirsty nelsonFemaleF4504:36:37751932840
33821061Sue JenningsFemaleF5004:55:101012863392

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