It’s been a bit of a milestone this weekend, not only is it mine and “The Emma’s” 14th wedding anniversary on Monday (God only knows how she’s put up with me for that long), but more importantly it’s ten long years since I ran my first half Marathon, and it’s all “The Emma’s” fault in the first place. You see, back in the dark mists of time, when I was only running just for a bit of fun and to keep fit, we were sat on the bus going into town one afternoon for a few beers when she said, “Why don’t you run a half marathon”. Obviously, I replied with “Don’t be stupid, do you know how far that is”. But the seeds of an idea had been sown, and a couple of months later I’d signed up for the Reading half, and instantly started regretting it. Roll on a few months later and on a chilly, but dry, early spring day, there I was lined up on the start line ready for my first ever competitive run. I still remember it like it was yesterday. The pre-race nerves, the excitement, the exhaustion, the exhilaration of finally crossing the finish line, the stiff legs the next day, the feeling of having done something a little bit special, and the thought at the time of “I’m never doing that again” which was soon replaced with “What next”. My time that day of 1:44:15 was nothing to write home about, but at the same time, I think it was quite reasonable for a first attempt at that distance, in an organised race. Obviously, I’ve learned from that, and put that learning into practice at numerous races, over ever greater distances, over the years, but the Reading half still holds a special little place in my heart. Which is why, I found myself once again taking to the start line on Sunday morning for a tenth anniversary reminder of what a great little event it is. I’d been looking forward to this one ever since I signed up back in the dark evenings of January, and the weather God’s appeared to be on my side for a change too, as Sunday morning dawned clear, still, and dry, with the promise of a cracking day ahead for a change. An easy drive up to Reading, followed by the short shuttle bus journey from the park and ride to the start area at the Madejski Stadium, left plenty of time to cheer on the kids competing in the Green Park Challenge as they raced for the finish line in the stadium, some with parents in tow, some running on their own for the first time, all of them an inspiration. It's the little things like the children running the Green Park Challenge that give me hope that the world isn’t quite the crazy, messed up place that it often appears to be. Maybe if those kids keep on running then they won’t end up following the rest of us in believing that the only way to get anywhere is by car, and we can end our reliance on “King Car” and start making the roads, and great outdoors, a safer, more pleasant place to be. While I’m off track and talking about things that bring me hope. I often used to see a family out horse riding on my cycle to work. The Mum was always at the front on the biggest horse, with 3 children of decreasing age and size, all following on, each riding a horse to reflect their size and always in size order. I’ve not seen them for a while, so I hope that they are all still riding and all still well, but every time I saw them it brought the biggest smile to my face and filled me with joy. What a beautiful sight! Anyway, back to the task in hand. It's been a long time since I’ve run a half Marathon on the road, I think we’d have to go back to pre blog days, so I had no real idea what I was capable of running time wise. Looking at last week's Southampton Marathon where I ran the first half quite comfortably in 1:45, I guessed that I should be more than capable of cutting a chunk of time off that for a half, but 1:30 seemed a bit too fast, considering that it’s been a long time since I’ve done any real fast training. 1:35 seemed a bit more realistic. 1:35 needs an average of 7 minute 15 second miles which is far faster than my average Marathon pace, but probably just about achievable. So, with that goal in mind, I lined up behind the 1:45 pace runner in my appointed start group and awaited the start (see last week's blog for my rant about people starting in the wrong start group!). With little fanfare, the elite group of runners set off bang on time at 10:15, and we moved forward to the start line, setting off a matter of seconds later. As expected, our wave set off fast, with the normal jostling for position as everyone tried to funnel smoothly past those who still insist on starting in the wrong place. The only advantage out fast is that you don’t tend to have to deal with the chancers for too long, as it soon becomes clear if you can’t hold the pace being set, and they soon get left behind. The 7:15 mile pace seemed pretty fast to me too, compared to what I’ve become accustomed to running at, and as we climbed the first of the day's ascents the group was whittled down further and the pack spread out, leaving plenty of space to settle into a steady rhythm. The first few miles passed quickly as we found our pace and formed a small group, all aiming for the same finish time, all equally matched, all fighting our own battle against the clock and not each other. With the sun shining down from a clear blue sky, the crowds were out in force, lining the streets and cheering on not only their own runners, but all who passed. The cheers from the crowds joining in with the ladies choir in the university grounds, the steel drummers in the underpass as we made our way into the town centre, the pub patrons, eagerly handing out samples to thirsty runners (not today thankyou) on the climb back out of the city centre, and the hundreds of children with their placards cheering on Mummy or Daddy or offering their little hands for a high five as we passed. How can you not give your best or be encouraged when everyone has turned out to cheer you on? By the time half way had come and gone I was in my stride, holding the pace well and actually having a good time. The second half of any run can go one of two ways though. It either becomes a slog, as your legs and stamina fade. Or if you've paced it well, it’s just a case of counting down the miles until the end, whilst enjoying yourself. The last of the uphill sections came at mile 9, and I pushed uphill, trying to hold on to the magical 7:15 pace required for that 1:35 finish. Legs screaming with lactic acid, lungs bursting with the effort of trying to get enough oxygen in to work those tired muscles, heart beating hard to try and propel those red blood cells round to where they are needed most, and all the while the crowd cheering us on. Eventually the top arrived and with it the relief that it’s all flat or downhill from here. Surely, I’ve got this one in the bag now? There’s still the small matter of 3 miles to go though and they're not easy miles either, so there’s no time for complacency. After all, “it’s not over until the fat lady sings”. Concentrate, hold the pace, watch for the man weaving around in front as we pass, mind the drain grating and the drop, watch the kerb as the person beside moves over to try and cut a corner edging me out, catch back up with those in front as we accelerate back out of a corner, but most of all keep pushing. I’m not going to get that 1:35 unless I want it enough! The last couple of miles at Reading are always hard. It’s a straight run along a dual carriageway, and whilst the road is wide, allowing everyone to spread out, it’s also dead straight, meaning you can see how far there still is to go. It’s pan flat, leaving no respite for tired legs, and there’s never anyone to cheer you on as they're all either in town or at the finish, where the facilities and best views are. It’s just a case of head down, enjoy the feeling of the tarmac moving smoothly under your feet, share the moment and pain with those around you, and push on. After what seems like weeks on the never ending dual carriageway, the sound of cheering slowly increases as we swing off to pick up the final few metres to take us to the finish in the Madejski Stadium. One more small climb with a hypnotic techno beat reverberating through the air and push on round the back of the stadium to enter via the back entrance. And then you're in the stadium, skirting round the edge of the pitch where a thousand dreams have come to an end at various football and rugby matches over the years, and the crowds roaring you on as you push for the finish line. Across the line, stop your watch and check the time. 1:34:54! That’ll do for me. I set off to do 1:35 and I’m 6 seconds inside that time. No wasted effort, just a job well done. Even more impressively, the 1:35 pacemaker that I set off with crosses the line a matter of seconds behind me. He might have been tasked with doing a 1:35 as the pacer, but I don’t think that he could have done a better job than that! It’s been a long time since I’ve run a road half, and what better place to do it than Reading where it all started 10 short years ago. And what a brilliant day out it was too. The sun shone, the crowds were brilliant, my fellow runners considerate, and enjoying the day out as I was, and the 1:35 pacer couldn’t have done a better job if his life had depended on it. Just out of interest I had a look at my previous Reading half times and they’re surprisingly consistent. Obviously the slowest I’ve ever ran was 2014 during that first momentous day, and I’ve got a feeling that 2019 is a personal best for the half (I can’t think that I’ve ever been quicker than that). But either way, it’s pretty consistent, and considering that I’m 10 years older than I was in 2014, I’m more than happy with that.
2024 – 1:34:54 - https://www.readinghalfmarathon.com/pages/results 2019 – 1:28:36 - https://rat.run/reading-half-marathon#!s=RHM2019_v3&r=5939 2017 – 1:39:26 - https://rat.run/reading-half-marathon#!s=RHM2017_v1&r=8060 2016 – 1:40:05 - https://rat.run/reading-half-marathon#!s=RHM2016_v2&r=1419 2015 – 1:30:06 - https://rat.run/reading-half-marathon#!s=RHM2015_v5&r=9870 2014 – 1:44:15 - https://rat.run/reading-half-marathon#!s=RHM2014_v2&r=8543 What I do occasionally wonder, is what I could be capable of if I actually took this seriously? When you consider that I ran a respectable Marathon 7 days before, and did another 20 miles training through the week, plus did 70-mile efforts on the bike on both Friday and Saturday, so was already starting from a fatigued state. Then what could I do if I focused on some speed work, focused on only 1 event, instead of punishing my legs every weekend, and trained specifically for one big effort? I could probably do quite well? But where’s the fun in that?
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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
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