Author: jimmowatt

I look around at the start of the race and there’s a sea of orange stretching before and behind me. This is a race organised to benefit Muscular Dystrophy UK and they’ve requested that people wear the orange that represents that charity. I’ve dug out my Wicked Walden tee shirt in which I blend in nicely with the background throng. Now how often have you heard someone claiming to blend in to anywhere in an eye searingly orange tee shirt.

We set off with the usual shuffle. There’s a lot of stepping around and about as I try to find a way through. Even as we turn left onto Chesterton road and have one entire side of the road to ourselves it’s still quite difficult to find enough room to run at your own pace.

I take a quick inventory of my aches and pains for today. I have a bit of a hamstring pain in my left leg. This makes a bit of a change as it’s usually the right leg. My left foot is also uncomfortable. I’m considering whether I should stop and loosen the laces. I figure it’s only a 10K so I may as well just cope with it and keep going.

I think it was somewhere on Chesterton Road that I first spotted the people running in onesies. I think one of them was a tiger and the other was some kind of blue dinosaur with purple spots on it. They were a little way in front of me so I gritted my teeth, increased the speed and shuffled on by, leaving them to choke on my dust. We ran back into the city centre past King College Chapel and the Senate House. Carrie was there waiting with the camera and, of course, I couldn’t resist a bit of a pose.

Kings College is also doing a bit of posing there in the background but it does it much more naturally than I.

We then turned on to Jesus lane and watched a line of traffic that was going nowhere until the race ended. It contained many quietly simmering drivers trying to kill us with their eyes. We waved and smiled merrily as we passed by. We turned left on to Victoria Avenue and were greeted by the welcome sight of the drinks station. You probably don’t really need a drink of water on a 10K in October but psychologically it feels really good. I always grab a drink of water whether I need one or not. it gives me a real boost. Then we turned on to Jesus Green. I was feeling reasonably good although starting to slow down a little. Then horror of horrors the tiger and dinosaur onesie people came cruising past me. I was a little rocked back. I’d passed these people as if they were standing still earlier in the race. Had I really slowed down so much? Had they speeded up? I saw them run off into the distance and felt a little deflated. I’d thought I was going well and then the onesie people showed my poor effort for what it was. A little bit more of this whining and psychic self mutilation went on and then I managed to push it all to the side. I could still see the onesie people in the distance. Why don’t I try chasing them down.

I increased my speed bit by bit. I could see that the tiger and dinosaur were no longer pulling away from me although still quite a distance in front. I held that gap for the next two kilometres as we ran along the river and back to Elizabeth Way Bridge. There was another drink there which I grabbed gratefully and then surged on. We were only two kilometres away from the finish now and I still had some energy to spare. The onesie people were still about 500 yards in front of me and I gritted my teeth and increased the speed. It seemed that they were doing likewise. I was passing other people but the Tiger and Dinosaur still taunted me from their position of dominance.

Damn them and their furry coats.

I ran down the side of the Grafton centre and I could now see the finish line on Midsummer Common and a little bit later there was the 9 kilometre marker. Right – now is the time. There’s only one kilometre left. This is my last chance. I turned right along Victoria Avenue and I see that I’m catching them up. This is now beginning to look possible. I can do it. I will beat these onesie people. It just takes a little more pain and a dollop of agony.

I turned right on to Midsummer Common and the gap has now decreased substantially. I surged forward and as we zig-zagged across the common I caught and passed them. All I had to do was to keep up the pace for another few hundred yards. I saw Carrie on the left as I pushed on toward the finish and I tried to catch sight of the time clock but far too many people had decided that this was a good place to stand. It looked like it might be 56 minutes and something but I’m not sure.

I cross the line and am busily pressing buttons on my phone trying to get some information. It is frustratingly slow to update so I give it a moment. I collect my tee shirt, water and medal. Then Richard and Carrie find me. They reckon I’ve done well and may have a new PB. Strava eventually did update and I saw the magical numbers, 56:05. That’s a new personal best for me by a looong way. I’ve been progressively getting better and better 10K times this year. First at St Ives where I got 57:52 which I was delighted at. Then I got Saffron Walden where I romped home in 57:25 and thought was the pinnacle of my efforts.  This time I had managed 10K in 56:05 which was better than I would ever have dreamed.

Thank you soooo much to those people dressed as Tiger and Dinosaur that gave me that extra incentive to push that little bit harder.

I got a new personal best and Richard, Jackie, Carrie and I went to the Castle pub on Castle hill to celebrate with Adnams beer and Castle burgers. Chris Newell joined us later and he had good news too. He jumped straight into running with marathons and half marathons and had never done a 10K before. Chris got a personal best but that’s not entirely surprising as he’d never run a 10K before. He ran 44:10 and seemed pleased with that.

As for me – I’m still doing the happy dance over 56:05. It’s far faster than I would have ever dreamed of. Thank you Tiger and Dinosaur.

Wish I’d have got a photo of them.

 

 

This run was a little further afield than I’ve gone previously. This one was primarily about the place and its connection to a hero of mine, John Churchill, the first Duke of Marlborough. Take a look at my podcast series here if you want to see the full horror of my fanboy obsession.

We booked a room to stay in Woodstock after the race and a car to get there so at 07:30 in the morning we were on our way. Many roundabouts later (you have to pass through the edges of the dastardly Milton Keynes) we arrived, parked up and then stumbled about in the atmospheric mists to find the race start.

Blenheim Palace, even shrouded in mist looked a splendid sight. It’s a building that invokes mixed emotions in many. It is an extremely grand and imposing building but does get rather carried away with Baroque twirly bits. The words subtle and Blenheim Palace are rarely used in the same sentence. I adore it and felt a warm glow of joy and affection for the building and its grounds as I walked down to the start line. I’m also feeling considerable affection for my wife Carrie, who is with me, offering invaluable support, taking pictures and trying not to mention how worried she is about me running with such a stinking cold.

We are given a choice at the start as to whether we’re under two hour runners or over. With a personal best of 2:12:42 from the Cambridge Half Marathon I have to put myself in the over 2 hour pens while all the speedy folk line push forward closer to the start line.

10:30 and we’re off. The speedy runners move and then it’s our turn. There was a bit of a panic while the marshal tried to tear the plastic strip that kept us in our pen. She didn’t succeed but people jumped in to help and slid it to the ground so we could jump over it.

We ran over the bridge toward the Blenheim Victory Column and then turned left up the first of what were to be a surprising number of hills. Don’t get me wrong – these aren’t huge vertical inclines. They are more like undulations than hills but I live in Cambridge. It’s nearly all flat here so we’re likely to even refer to speed bumps as hills. I am however starting to develop a technique for these undulations that seems to help a little. Running downhill can be quite painful. The books all tell me that I can ease this pain by turning my legs over fast and making it into some kind of semi-controlled falling action. It sounds bizarre but it actually does seem to work and it means I go a lot faster downhill than I normally would. The difficulty I found today, was with my breathing. My chest felt really clogged up so when I did my faster downhill descents I was reaching for deeper breaths, failing and then gasping like a beached fish. I must have looked like I was having a heart attack.

We were running around a loop and I was seeing signs that said 6 kilometres. My  goodness, thinks I, we’ve gone further than I thought. A little later I saw a sign for 3 miles and was terribly confused. The kilometres kept clocking up but the miles were sadly lacking. I eventually figured out that the kilometre markers were for the 10K race later in the day. I should ignore these and only take notice of the mile markers.

We headed out of the grounds onto a road. Half of it had been closed so we were protected from the traffic by a row of traffic cones standing silent sentry guard from encroaching homicidal motor vehicles. There were more hills but also more mile markers. When you set off on a half marathon run the 13 miles seems a ridiculously long way away. There’s no point looking towards the end as it’s just too far away to contemplate. At about 7 miles all that suddenly changes. You start to realise that the end, if not in sight, is actually somewhere that you could reach and you might not even die of exhaustion and despair on the way. The 7 and 8 mile markers came along in quick succession but then I got an entirely new pain afflicting me. The call of nature didn’t so much beckon as thwap me in the stomach making immediate demands. I nipped off into a field to pee and then jumped back into the race trying desperately to look as nonchalant as possible whilst giving off the impression that I’d just nipped into the hedge to investigate an interesting looking berry. I suspect not one single person was fooled.

Unfortunately the peeing helped not a jot. There were more significant movements going on down there and I was extremely uncomfortable. I could do nothing more than try to push these feelings aside. The end was only around 50 minutes away. Surely nothing really horrendous would happen before then. My imagination begged to differ and was absolutely certain something downright horrible was going to happen right here and right now. This battle continued throughout the rest of the run. It was extremely unpleasant but that’s all just part of the experience.

Despite the discomfort the miles kept dropping away and I soon began to hear the crowds around the finish line. The sound would tease and tantalise as I drew closer and then seemed to veer away and then back again. A couple of twists and turns later and I can see the grand house in the distance. Up the hill we go and I hear the announcer shouting my name. I grit my teeth and surge forwards. I am looking from left to right but there’s no sign of my wife Carrie. I stagger across the line, grab my medal and a bottle of water.

Wandering across toward the lake to find somewhere to sit down for a bit,
Carrie finds and congratulates me. It seems I’ve caught her unawares. I’ve finished much sooner than she expected. It’s looking like a new personal best. I am pleased but there’s another urgent matter that is pressing hard upon. I disappear into the visitor centre in search of a public convenience. What happened inside there is too diabolical to relate here. I think we should perhaps just pull the veil over this and just say that all ended happily without loss of life or limb.

I had the time confirmed later as 2:09:08

 

 

I always try to get in a fairly long run if I possibly can on a Sunday morning. If I get up early I can be out and back before my partner even begins to stir.

This morning however I was out for some considerable time and she had already stirred and begun to wonder if I was laying in a ditch somewhere with my life’s blood oozing out onto the abundant vegetation that surrounded and encased my defenceless body.

The truth was somewhat more prosaic.

I had set off without any kind of plan and then just kept going. I got lost several times but ended up covering what,for me is a very long distance (25km). It’s given me real hope that, with training, I may be able to complete my first marathon next year.

I began my run just weaving around Milton Country Park trying to figure out where I was going next. My first thought was the busway. This is a nice long straight piece of tarmac that’s really easy to run on. It was tempting but I decided against it in favour of something that might be a bit more of an adventure.

I broke out of the Country Park and headed toward the river. First decision there – should I turn left toward Clayhithe or right and over Baits Bite Lock. I chose the latter and over the river I went, heading straight on through the field, over a tiny wooden bridge that made me think of Billy Goats Gruff and Trolls and then up to Horningsea.

In Horningsea I found a lovely bit of green and a village hut/hall type thing. There was a bucket on a stand there which looked like it might have been part of the V.E. Day celebrations or possibly some Satanic rites. Maybe there is more going on in Horningsea than I might have imagined.

I romped around the funky little green area for a while and then spun off down the road a little. On Clayhithe Road there is a public footpath that points across the fields to the right. I’ve got lost on this footpath before so thought I would give it another try to see what happened this time. As soon as I got on to the field I was confronted with three choices. The one to the right says absolutely no entry. There are nesting birds and I should not be stomping along there disturbing them. I’m thinking that it’s awfully late in the year for nesting birds and that they should damn well hatch or get off the nest but I chose the path that seemed to loop around the hill and head for this huge electricity pylon (I’m told by someone who used to work with mapping infrastructure that I shouldn’t call them pylons – apparently their proper name is towers). I encountered a field of food that I decide is probably corn and joy of joys there has been a path cut right through the middle of it. It is always such a relief while running through fields to have the way so clearly marked. I always worry that I might be straying onto areas where I’m unwelcome.
I run on through the fields and arrive at the pylon/tower thing. There are an abundance of signs here. Which way should I go?

Well I’d just come from Horningsea so probably not that one.
Fen Ditton is a possibility but it does take me back towards home and I’m not ready to turn around yet. Quy is a good possibility but wait, there’s another option around the far side.

To Lode is says or if I wanted to be really adventurous I could go all the way to Wicken Fen. I decided to go to Lode and then consider which way to turn at that point.
I ran on down the path and eventually reached a road. There are a few houses here that I decide is probably Lode and another sign.

It’s very tempting to run down toward Bottisham and the river.

Hmmm – I take stock and realise that my legs are actually starting to hurt a little so I should start to circle around back toward home. I shall leave Bottisham Lock for another day. I turned right into the picturesque village of Lode. It is a breathtakingly beautiful little village. Lots of thatched cottages, modern bungalows and some touches of Georgian splendour. One of the joys of being out on a run with no pre-planned route is that I can take off in any direction I wish. I took advantage of this freedom in Lode darting off down a number of little alleys and alluringly beautiful pathways.I found a village green and something called Fassage Hall which sounds terribly old and grand but is actually a very modern looking village hall. It looked a splendid purpose built facility although not quite what I expected. I startled a number of dog walkers sauntering down the lanes. They all recovered quickly and wished me a cheery good morning as wound around and about, taking in the delights of Lode.
There were so many things I would have liked to photograph but I was trying to tell myself not to bugger about quite so much and actually do a bit of running. I couldn’t run past this building though without stopping to take a picture.

I’ve no idea what it is but it is a little bit special I’m sure you’ll agree.

I continued onwards until I encountered the National Trust property, Anglesey Abbey. It was closed but I was tempted into the grounds by a public footpath sign. Surely this won’t take me too far out of my way I thought, and I’ll just loop around the grounds and back out onto the road a little bit further down. I ran across the car park and down through the trees. There were many pathways there but I didn’t see any signage so had no idea which way I was going or even whether I was still on the public footpath.
I passed a couple walking their dog and they waved and smiled as I ran by. There was a tiny river/stream here and I followed its track as it emerged from the trees and snaked away into what looked like an endless chain of fields stretching as far as the eye could see. I followed the path for some time but it became more and more impassable as it continued onwards. My run quickly changed to a strange hopping, skipping and delicate sideways shuffle as I tried to avoid being nettled or scratched by brambles. I decided that this was probably no longer a path and turned back. I met the dog walking couple down the trail a little and decided that maybe I should ask for some directions.
“You’ve probably figured out I’m lost” I said as I ran back towards them. “No no” They said. “We thought you’d just had enough and were coming back.” I assured them I was, in fact, quite lost and was trying to head towards Stow Cum Quy and then to curve back towards Fen Ditton from there. They assured me that my route through the impassable brambles was the correct one and that if I persevered then Stow Cum Quy would be within my grasp. I turned back and fought my way through the undergrowth once more.
It went on and on and on but eventually it became more like a path and I stepped onto something that actually looked like a dirt track that could lead somewhere.
I stepped out onto the track and was confronted by another dog walker. I hailed her and asked whether I was heading in the right direction for Stow Cum Quy. She assured me that I was. She was tall, with brown hair swept back into a pony tail and wearing dark glasses. She looked like a French film star hiding from her millions of fans in darkest Cambridgeshire. She moved like a dancer and when she raised her hand to point the way I had to fight the impulse to applaud her grace and beauty. I thanked her profusely and continued onwards.
Stow Cum Quy was soon upon me and I turned right to head toward Newmarket Road.
This is a lovely little footpath that somehow manages to duck and weave away from the crazy roundabout that will take the eager motorist onto the mega highway that is the A14. The path leads you down onto Newmarket road and then through the Park and Ride site to Fen Ditton. I then found the footpath that took me to the church and onto the village green. It’s while running through these places that I realise how fortunate I am to live where I do. In one run I had been through several villages, Horningsea, Lode, Stow Cum Quy, Fen Ditton and my own village of Milton and all of them were just so breathtakingly beautiful. This is an absolutely splendid place to live.
I went through Fen Ditton but was really starting to suffer now. My legs were hurting and my drinking water was completely gone. However, there’s a house in Fen Ditton where they fly several different flags and often put out a sign saying what those flags are. They also have a water fountain on the roadside so I tried it out and found that beautiful clear cool water came from it that was just downright heavenly. Whoever is in that house, thank you thank you, thank you. You are doing a wonderful thing providing water to the desperate and needy such as myself. I ran on through the village and then down to the river. I crossed over the River Cam at Baits Bite Lock and then back through Milton. I’d done 25 kilometres but was completely exhausted. Still, it gives me great confidence that I am on track to run my first marathon next year.

A delightful run that I can heartily recommend. If anyone wants to try and recreate it for themselves then they could try following my route on Strava

I’ll also share two more photographs with you.
I think they were somewhere near Anglesey Abbey but I’m not sure.
One is what looks like a really imaginative allotment.

And the other is the lane that runs away from that allotment

As seem’s all too common in these posts. I’m nursing an injury and worried about how it’s going to affect my next run. There’s some kind of stretchy thing in my leg behind my knee that seems to have done maybe a little too much stretching. It became awfully painful at last week’s parkrun so I’ve been taking it steady ever since. I can feel a little bit of bad stuff going on there but it’s not particularly painful any more.

Last year I didn’t get to run the St Ives 10K due to injury but this year I’ve got as far as the starting line and I’m good to go. It was last year that the chap there who was doing massages gave me some splendid advice about injuries and the way they mend. He advised me to keep stretching it as it mended so that you wouldn’t get scar tissue healing it up in a contracted state (that’s the way I interpreted what he said anyway). I’ve since followed his advice and I think it has really helped my recovery from injury.

Anyway – countdown done and the massed hordes edge toward the starting line. No hurry here as we’re chip timed and the green matting and some RFID will monitor our progress.

We start downhill which seems good to me and then veer left through the streets. There are so many of us that we fill the streets. I suspect that these roads haven’t been closed as there seem to be several cars that have pulled over and are waiting for us all to pass before they move on.

First water station is at 2.5 kilometres. There’s a temptation to keep moving on here as it seems too early to stop for water. However, I realise that there isn’t another water stop until 7.5 kilometres, so probably best to wrangle some liquid down my throat especially as gallons of it seems to be trying to escape from my forehead. I stop, drink some water and move on. I’ve never got the knack of drinking from a cup and running at the same time.

We start to go up some hills now toward the airfield. I hear good natured grumbles and groans around me, “this is the Fens, we’re not supposed to have hills.”

We turn right onto the airfield and the wind gives us a good buffeting. Fortunately we soon turn back left and that mighty headwind becomes a lovely cooling breeze wafting across our path. The road stretches before us forever and looking back at my split times I see that I’ve slowed down a little here. So much of the battle of running happens inside your head. Here I’ve decided that I’ve already been running for some considerable time and I don’t seem to have got very far. I’m also looking off into the distance and seeing that there’s quite a lot if it out there. I don’t really notice at the time but looking at my Strava statistics it is all too obvious that my mojo is taking a bit of a break here.

Further on we start to see the front runners appear on the other side of the road. They are heading back down the track toward the finish. I see one of our Cambridge parkrunners right at the front of the field following the milk float. It’s Chris Darling and he’s motoring on well. I shout encouragement but he’s concentrating and doesn’t hear. This part of the course is quite fun as I can see all the people in front of me and we shout encouragement at each other. Andrew is the first of our usual gang, then Richard a little further back and then I’m looking out for John but don’t see him.

We arrive at the halfway stage. It’s a strange little triangle that turns us around and sends us back in the direction from whence we came. Yet again we turn into the wind and myself and the person running beside me are brought up short by the power of the wind. I give a sharp intake of breath and she exclaims, “that was a bit harsh.” It doesn’t last long though and as we turn back along the long straight the wind is transformed once more into friendly gentle wafting action and I find that I’m really quite enjoying myself. I start moving up through the  field. I can tell whether I’m having a good run or not by whether I’m passing anyone during the second half of a 10K. It’s all too common for me to get tucked in behind someone and just be content with following them for the rest of  the run. I feel more like I’m hanging on in there rather than pushing myself. This time I pushed on a bit and it felt good. I checked my phone at 7K and realised that my time was fine. As long as I kept going at a decent pace then I should definitely get home in less than an hour. Unfortunately this discovery coincided with another turn into the wind and then an uphill stretch. This slowed me down a little but I kept going and kept myself on target. Soon 7.5 kilometre drinks were upon me (quite literally) and I was pushing myself toward the finish. The aches and pains were upon me but I gritted my teeth and kept going and once I saw the finish line made some attempt at a bit of a sprint toward it. Another chap did too. I fought him off but then found that he’d beaten me for chip time anyway. Drat!

Soooooo – I now have a new personal best time for my 10Kruns.

57.52.5 and I’m very happy.

 

This one was worrying me a little.

If you’ve read the previous post you’ll know that I was struggling a little with injury and hadn’t really prepared as much as I would have liked to. I look back at my training for the Cambridge Half Marathon and remember carefully ramping up my distance until I was confident that I could complete the distance.

This time I had been laid low by a mysterious and irritating pain in a ligament behind my knee. Every now and again it would cut in and cause me immense amounts of pain. I took the decision to ease waaaay back on my running and see if it would heal. This isn’t an approach I often take. More often, I will stupidly soldier on and just assume the pain will eventually just go away .

Carrie and I turned up to the Histon and Impington recreation ground and looked for somewhere to fasten our bikes. This was a difficult process as a forest of bikes had already sprung up throughout the village and were attached to anything that looked like it may stay still for a few hours. We managed to find a fence and went in search of the registration tent. Richard met us just outside the tent and showed us the way. He too was a little worried by his lack of preparation for the run but still excited to see what the day would bring. Lloyd arrived a little later and hurriedly ran off in entirely the wrong direction to get his race number too. I must assume he zoned in on the correct location eventually as he returned some time later with a race number pinned to his chest.

About 15 minutes before the race we were all led away through the streets to find the starting point. We looked like a herd of migrating wildebeest as we mooched across the roads in search of our temporary home.

The first wave of the fastest runners were all lined up and given vital pre-race information (run in that direction and don’t wander into the busway tracks to get mowed down by rampaging buses). They all nodded sagely, were counted down and sent on their way. The next wave went a few minutes later and then we slower runners were given the same pre-race talk and released onto the course.

I set off slowly. I always set off slowly. I hear so much, when I listen to running podcasts such as ‘marathon talk‘ that everyone sets off too fast on longer runs and inevitably pays for it later. I think that because I usually start with fairly slow runners that I have no choice but to set off quite slowly, as I’m usually following a whole bunch of other people. We meandered through the streets a little and then headed out onto the busway. A couple of kilometres in, I have a bit of space around me and am beginning to settle into my own regular pace. I’ve just got settled into the long straight of the busway when we are directed off into a bit of cross country. There was a little dash toward Girton and then we nipped back onto the busway. Then the course took a long shambling meander out and about, veering off toward Oakington. Some of this was quite a tough trail to run. The grass was high and we were often running in single file. I was quite grateful here that so many people had run in front of me and trampled the grass down a little. Nine and a half kilometres in and we’re back on the busway. I’m partly relieved in that it’s easier running on the flat ground. I’m also aware, however, that it’s easy to get lost in the relentless plodding along on this type of surface. I tend to slow down on sections like this. I just float off into my own little world and can hear the hypnotic thump as my feet hit the floor, over and over and over again. I check my phone and the time is pretty good. I’m at about an hour for 10K so everything is going well. We turned right near Rampton along Reynolds Drove and then right again along Cuckoo Lane. I was a little mystified here by a group of wild hairy people cavorting along in what looked like the wrong direction. Some of them were blowing trumpets and others were shouting ‘On, On.’ I eventually figured out that these must be Hashers doing their own crazy running thing.

We’re running along Cuckoo Lane and there’s quite a bit of uphill here. We’re at 13 kilometres and the tiredness is beginning to tell on my legs. They tell me that they would be awfully grateful if I would perhaps stop for a bit and bathe them in warm water whilst covering them in soft soapy suds. My plan for them was quite different. The order of the day as far as I was concerned was that they still had eight kilometres left to run. My legs thought that this was a ridiculous idea.

At 15 km I’m running along Gun’s Lane and my legs are threatening to go into complete revolt. They tell me that I haven’t trained for this and I shouldn’t expect them to sustain this kind of punishment. I try to close my ears to their bitter criticisms.

At 16 and a half kilometres we’re back into housing estates and there’s lots of marshalls about yelling encouragement. I must pay tribute here to the vast number of people who give up their time to volunteer for these events and help us all to have such a good time. There are all the wonderful people who dish out the drinks at the water stations and all those people who point out the right way to go on the course. At 16 kilometres in this incredible heat my brain isn’t really up to orienteering so I’m extremely happy to have people point and shout that I should go that way.

At 18 kilometres we are back in Impington and I am beginning to get excited about finishing. Unfortunately my body is trying to close itself down. It has already decided that we’ve run far further than any sane person should do so and the legs are refusing the next stride in the way that a horse might refuse to jump a high fence. I’m reduced to walking for a few paces while I try to talk my body into moving again. Eventually I manage to spur it once more into action and I’m on my way. I totter onto the recreation ground and spot the finish line waaaaay over there. I try to make a sprint for the line but it’s more an ungainly wobble. The time isn’t great at getting on for 2 and a half hours but it was incredibly hot and I did finish without dying so I call that a good result. Many others didn’t and the St John’s Ambulance group were extremely busy tending to those who had collapsed along the course.

Richard finished well and Lloyd did a pretty good time. Unfortunately I think that the heat got to Lloyd a bit and he felt quite unwell for some time after finishing.

Here’s me taking it easy in the sun with my finishers medal on the ground behind me.

 

 

I intended to do an early morning 10K or so. One of my regular routes takes me along the A10. Then I turn right through Waterbeach, past the station to the River Cam and then right turn along the Cam, back to Milton. It’s a lovely route that has become one of the favourites among my Sunday morning runs. This morning it didn’t go entirely to plan.

I set off feeling fine. The first bit along the A10 is the least pleasant section of the run. I think the only joy of this section is that I know the scenery gets a lot better further along. I had travelled around 2 kilometres when I started to feel a slight pain at the back of my right knee. It felt like some kind of stretchy ligament thing. I’ve had this pain before and it keeps re-occurring. It does sometimes go numb so that I can carry on. This time it just kept getting worse. At 3 km I was gritting my teeth and wincing. I turned off the A10 toward Waterbeach and the pain became unbearable. I staggered along a few yards more but I couldn’t cope with it any more.

I checked my phone and found that I had only completed 4 km of my projected 10 k run. I was frustrated and upset. I felt that I could have wept. I was thinking about the upcoming Flaming June half marathon and that this injury might prevent my taking part in that. Alternatively the injury might heal but only if I rested it completely and then I wouldn’t be fit enough to take part in the half marathon.

Woe is (was) me.

I was staggering about and looking up at the sky. I felt distraught. I turned around to limp back home. I looked up at the sky metaphorically shaking my fist at the unfairness of it all.

Then I actually saw the sky. It was a delightfully clear day. I was outside, in the sunshine on a beautiful day, in the village of Waterbeach and not so far away from the glorious scenery around the River Cam. The injury would heal. I may not be able to take part in the Flaming June half marathon but that’s just one run. There would be many more.

It’s a strange reaction when you find you can’t finish a run. I’ve seen it before in myself and many others. The reaction seems massively disproportionate to the circumstance. When you consider the sort of tragedies that can hit us, all too often (friends or family suffering illness or death or being the victim of a violent crime or being put in prison) and compare that to the tragedy of not finishing a run then it doesn’t seem to fit. There must be some kind of competitive thing going on. It’s a striving for goals. You invest quite a lot into attaining these goals and if you don’t achieve them, then it feels like that investment was wasted. However, when you step back and see what’s really going on (especially in the case I’m talking about here) it’s only a run. I know, I know. A heretical view indeed. I expect to be stripped of my running shoes and drummed out of the corps in disgrace. However, it’s only a few weeks out of training. I can always get new goals. I can sign up for a different race and ramp up the training for that one. Meanwhile, I’m out in the sunshine and it’s a beautiful day. I can walk the rest of the route so I’m still getting some exercise and take a few photos too.

The first thing that prompted me to whip out the phone and take photos was the fantastically impressive St John’s Church, named for St John the Evangelist.

I’m often amazed at the sheer scale of these churches in quite tiny villages.

I walked down to the train station across the level crossing. Then through the station car park toward the river.

I was walking a path I’d run often but I had a little more time to look around. I noticed to my right a kissing gate and a sign. It said ‘Mouse Gate’. It seemed a quaint sign so I went through and saw some more signs. These said ‘Living Bridge’ and ‘Explorers Hangout’. Excellent thinks I.  There’s some exploring to be done here.

 

I walked back and forth along the trails finding several other similar signs and hidden treasures. Not all of them amazing, I will admit. The explorers hangout is a bench.However, I suspect the idea is to spark off children’s imagination so that they have the beginnings from which to create something magical. It was a lovely little woodland area called Cow Hollow Wood.

I continued onwards coming back out onto the river. I tried to run again and managed to get a few hundred yards before the pain returned.

I distracted myself by taking a few more photographs.

and finally

Despite the disappointment of the injury it was still a delightful morning. I did manage to run a little more but it was quite painful. I’m now here a couple of weeks later. I’ve been resting the leg as much as possible. I did parkrun yesterday and it didn’t hurt. So, I’ll be running the Flaming June half marathon tomorrow. I think I’m unlikely to get a good time but it should still be a lot of fun

I made it!

I’ve completed 100 parkruns and my results status will now proudly show a bold 100 in the end column.

I can still clearly remember my 1st parkrun. I was incredibly unfit but determined to go the distance. 5K seemed so far back then and I saw it as a one off event just to try and prove to myself that I could totter along for 5K without collapsing in a heap and vomiting over myself..

I went along to the Cambridge Parkrun and met Lloyd and Richard there. They were asking if I felt that I might do a personal best for my 100th. I wasn’t hopeful. I felt rather old and creaky and in no fit state to beat my recent surge forward in my 5K time. Only a few weeks earlier I’d knocked an entire minute off my 5K time but had now dropped back a little. I was still doing far better than I used to do but the personal best was looking a long way away.

I set off well and was feeling fit and strong. I noticed a 25 minute pacer and thought that if I could hold on to the coat tails of that runner then I might do reasonably well. I passed the 1K mark at about 5 minutes and thought I was on course and doing fine. Weariness hit me at about 1.5K and I think I slowed a little around then. I was looking around for the 25 minute pacer and didn’t see them anyway. Could I possibly be still ahead of the 25 minute pacer. Surely not. I didn’t feel that I was running fast enough. However I ploughed on thinking that if maybe I could hold off the moment when the 25 minute pacer passed me then my time would still be quite reasonable. 3 and 4 kilometre markers passed by and still no sign of the pacer. Wild illusions started to buzz around inside me. Maybe I was running an amazing pace and possibly I could finish even before the 25 minute man. That would be astounding, stunning, amazing and incredible all wrapped in one bundle of delightfulness.

I surged toward the finish line feeling that it couldn’t possibly be true but possibly, maybe, it just might be.

Then I looked up and saw the 25 minute pacer relaxing by the finish line.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

I don’t know when he passed me. Maybe it was right at the start and I’d been fooling myself all the way around.

However I’d run 26:33 which, even though it wasn’t a personal best (it was 40 seconds outside my personal best) was still a pretty good time AND I’d just completed 100 parkruns. I’m thrilled to bits with how far I’ve come from that first 5K of pain. It’s still all pain and struggle but I can now think of myself as a runner. I’ve done 100 parkruns and feel fit and strong enough to do 100 more.

I was feeling a bit creaky and unfit for this one. However, the day dawned bright and fair and it looked like it should be a wonderful day to run.

Registration was quick and easy and we were soon hustled away into pens at the far end of forever away in a small and fogotten piece of Cambourne.

Stand here if you’re going to do 35 minutes say the signs.

Stand here for 45, and 55 minutes.

No sign of anything after 55 minutes. We galumphing fools trotting home after everyone else are beneath notice, it seems. Oh dear, oh dear.

It was a tough course with a lot of ups and down and a diabolical breeze but I enjoyed the run. I finished in just slightly over an hour and very much enjoyed myself. I bought a Cumberland sausage in a bap afterwards and it was the most delicious thing ever.

The course was very well marshalled and was completely off road (except for one small residential street) so no worries about crossing traffic. I still had some energy left at the end so if I do this run again next year then I hope I’ll know it well enough to push myself a little harder.

The times have just been published – As I thought – it was quite a slow time.

1:01:25 for me

49:17 for Lloyd in the Saucony shirt in the picture above.

51:32 for Richard in the yellow shirt in the picture above.

I felt strong this morning.

I hadn’t managed to fit in a run all week but the Cambridge half marathon run last weekend had left me feeling strong and confident. I did a little warm up and had a sneaking suspicion that today might be a very good day indeed.

I set off faster than usual. It’s always difficult trying to work your way through so many runners at such a popular Parkrun but today I slipped through nice and easy.

I came past the 1K marker feeling that things were going well so, as we turned left back under the cover of the trees I decided to speed up a little. It twists and turns and that slows down your average pace but it’s all part of what makes it such a delightful run. The trail around the park is quite a narrow track and I’ve often found myself just falling in behind someone and moving along at their pace. Today felt different though. I had strength in reserve and so started moving out to pass the person in front and then chase down the next runner. It was a fantastic feeling. There was something almost predatory about it as I moved through the field picking off runner after runner. I came around for the next lap and I found tiredness taking its toll. My brain is telling me to just take it easy. There was a noise in my head going tick-tock tick-tock just counting off the paces to get through to the end. My pace dropped and I stopped passing people. I’m breathing quite heavily now and my lungs are gasping for air. It’s not until I pass the 4K marker that I start to think that perhaps I’m being a bit lazy. I ran the Cambridge Half Marathon last week and here am I feeling sorry for myself on a piddling little 5K run around Milton Country Park. I look up and see a long straight path down by the Cambridge Evening News building. I move out to the right and start to pass other runners yet again. I turn at the bridge and the chap there mentions something about the time being 23:35 by his watch. I look at him in disbelief. I knew this was a good run but we were less than three minutes away from the finish line. My personal best was 27:07 so there was no way I could be beating that by thirty seconds. I was sceptical but thought maybe it’s a possibility. I dug in and surged forward and as I turned right toward the finish cone I let out a roar of delight and piled on a last great effort to reach the end.

I took my finish token and checked my phone. It said I’d done a time of 25:49. I still couldn’t quite believe it. Surely I can’t have knocked off over a minute from my personal best. Over the last couple of years I’ve been chipping off a few seconds here and a few seconds there.

Richard is certain I must have done a good time. He’s finished and is waiting there to cheer me in. He hasn’t been standing there long so feels that my time must be something extraordinary.

I checked my time on the website and it was 25:54. It was true. I’d knocked off more than a minute from my previous personal best time of 27:07.

I’m still slower than the rest of the crowd that I run with but I think I’ve turned a corner. I’m definitely stronger and fitter than I was and I’m really looking forward to my next 10K run. I think I can improve my personal best at that distance quite considerably.

I am a very happy chap indeed.