A rare treat this week folks. I’ve been running. And it’s been a long, long, time, since I’ve done any of that. In fact it’s been 8 Months since I last did any competitive running, and there hasn’t been much running of any kind in the interim either. Before we get to the interesting stuff though. Saturday was spent freezing my bits off, putting the gearbox back in “The Boys” car. You’ll no doubt be pleased to know that I’ve replaced the knackered Input shaft bearing which I’m hoping was the source of all the noise, and managed to get all the gears back into the case. Helpfully, “The Emma” didn’t complain when I brought the gearbox into the house on Thursday in the hope that it would warm up enough to allow me to get some sealant onto the mating faces. And she still wasn't complaining when it reappeared Friday night, in the hope that the sealant might actually start to cure before I put it back in the car. It says on the packet to apply it in temperatures above 10 degrees, but nothing about what to do when it’s -10, so into the hall it came to warm up. And “The Boy” needs to be thankful, as do I, that I’ve got such an easy going Wife. (Although if I’m honest I think she just likes the easy life, and it’s easier to either ignore my antics, or just say “Yes Paul” than it is to try to stop some of my silly ideas. It’s back in the car now though, so that's a positive. Although I still don't know if it’s fixed because A) The sealant still hasn’t gone off and I don’t want to fill it with oil until it has. And B) Whoever's been in there before me has managed to strip all of the threads out of one of the mounting bolt holes, so now I’m waiting for a thread repair kit to arrive before I can finish putting it back together. It’s progress though and a step in the right direction, so I’m happy about that. And on an even more positive note the bearing that I’ve replaced was definitely knackered, and it’s always reassuring when you find that the item you suspected to be unserviceable is, and you’ve actually got something to point at and say “that’s the problem”. There’s nothing worse than taking something apart and either finding nothing, or finding that the bit you suspected to be the problem is actually OK. Anyway, that’s enough about that for the time being, let's get back to the main event. The Mapledurham Half Marathon. Yes, it’s only a half and a big step down from where I was this time last year, but I was really looking forward to this one having not run for such a long time and it’s another step in the right direction! I’ve run a lot of this course before, but not for a few years, and the last time I did run it, it was only 10 miles. The Half has been added at some point over the last couple of years and although much of the route is the same as the ten mile, some of it was going to be new to me. After Saturday's freezing temperatures, I’d almost been hoping for more of the same on Sunday. It wasn’t to be though, and by the time I got to the start the temperature was into positive numbers (although still chilly) and by the time I’d collected my number and started getting ready it had started raining. A bit of freezing rain never did anyone any harm though (probably) and it was easy to forget the cold, wet, raindrops, landing on my head, amongst the excitement of being back at the start line for the first time in many months. There’s something special about standing in a wet field waiting for someone to shout “Go”. There’s always an apprehensive excitement in the air, and an all prevailing tension. Final stretches, endless checks of watches. The odd bit of small talk, “have you done this one before?”. But deep down everyone’s thinking the same thing, “How am I feeling”? “How’s this going to go today”? “Are my legs feeling good”? “What about that little niggle”? “Come on let’s go”! The 10K runners set off first on Sunday for an extra lap of the field to ensure the distance was actually 10K, and passed back through the start to much applause, whilst we waited to be released. And as they disappeared into the distance, so we in turn moved up to the start line. “Hang back me, this one always goes out fast and there’s some good runners here”. “There’s no point killing myself in the first mile, it's been a long time, but remember what you learned from all those previous races”. “Start slow to finish fast”! As predicted, once we got going, the front runners were away like scalded cats. The first couple of miles are along a concrete farm track, which makes for some fast running, but I quickly settled into a pace which I felt comfortable with and felt I could sustain for the duration, whilst the front runners disappeared into the distance.
With the pace settled, the end of the concrete quickly arrived and we peeled off into the woods for the first climb of the day up a muddy footpath. Falling in behind the man in front, as we neared the top he offered to let me pass. An offer I kindly declined, knowing that the pace we were doing was fast enough and if I overtook I’d have to pick up my pace further, rather than hold him up in the process. A rousing performance from one of the lovely marshals manning a sharp turn, directed us across a muddy field and into the woods for the first time, where dead leaves lay thick in the wet mud and heavy drops of rain dripped from the trees as we passed. Through the 5 mile mark and I was feeling good, I was working hard but not too hard, and my knee, whilst tender, was holding up Ok. Coming up to the 6 mile mark I gained a couple of places as we slipped and slid along a muddy track. The ground underfoot already churned up by the 10K runners, who had taken a shorter route to this point and arrived ahead of us. Another uphill section, saw another couple of places gained. My start slow, finish strong tactic starting to pay off. And as we approached the 9 mile point, having again rejoined the route of the 10 Km runners, the first of the back markers from that race hove into view. I fully appreciate how demoralising it must be to be passed by someone who set off ten minutes after you and has done 10 miles to your 10Km. But, as the one doing the passing, it’s a massive morale boost, and with almost 10 miles in my legs, any morale boost was more than welcome. Just shy of the ten mile mark the 10Km / 10 mile and half marathon routes split again, and as I followed the route for the extra 3 miles to make up the half marathon, most of those in front peeled off, their day done, leaving just a few visible in front of me. Repeating the slippery muddy trail from earlier I picked off another runner and on the next climb the only other person I could see in front of me fell behind. The pacing strategy was certainly paying off, and as I started the descent back towards the start I was able to pick my pace up slightly. More backmarkers, this time from the ten mile and ½ marathon groups, gave me plenty of people to chase after during the last mile and a half, and I put in my fastest mile of the day racing towards the line. Heart beating, breath ragged, legs pushing long strides, I crossed the line in 1:47, a time which was good enough for 25th place from the 97 starters, and more importantly, a time I’m more than happy with considering this year's lack of miles and injuries. Yes I could undoubtedly have gone faster, but today wasn’t about times, it was about seeing how my legs felt over the distance and having fun. And by god did I have fun. I didn’t realise quite how much I’d missed running until I started getting ready for Sunday. Collecting up the bits that havent been used for all those long months where injuries have stopped me running. Safety pins to attach my number, trail shoes from the van, gloves from the drawers upstairs, water bottle from the cupboard. All little things that were so familiar and then weren't. The drive up to the start, the excitement and apprehension waiting for the off, and the thrill of the run itself. Legs working hard, breath ragged on the climbs, pushing hard to catch the person in front, working even harder as you hear someone catching from behind, and the joy of being outside, propelling yourself through the damp winter countryside. Muddy paths, stiles to climb, puddles to run through, slip sliding from one side of the path to the other. Open countryside, wooded climbs, fast descents and boggy paths. Oh yes, I’ve really missed running!
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Paul PerrattOld enough to know better, young enough to still feel invincible, stupid enough to keep on trying the same thing again and again. Cyclist, Gardener, Runner, Hiker, Cook, Woodworker, Engineer, Jack of all trades and master of none, Anti social old git and all round miserable bugger. Archives
March 2024
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