parkrun tourism: Pomphrey Hill

At the weekend, my wife and I headed off again to try out another parkrun. This time, a Christmas party in Bristol with my wife's family was the excuse. There are four parkruns in and around Bristol: Ashton Court, Little Stoke, Pomphrey Hill and Chipping Sodbury. There is also one in Bath. As we were staying in Keynsham the two most logical options were Pomphrey Hill and Bath, and despite the worrying aspect of the name, we went for Pomphrey Hill.

As luck(?) would have it, Ira Rainey (one of them there Twitter folk: @IraRainey) was run director for the day, so I had a ready source of information for the event, and it would be a good excuse to meet him face to face. (In a public environment, in case he turned out to be a mad axe-murderer.) He proved to both supply good information, recommending trail shoes rather than road shoes, and not be a mad axe-murderer (at least, not on a Saturday morning...)

A cold and frosty morning for a run. (Credit: Ira Rainey)

I wasn't too keen on the idea of three laps, but on the other hand, I'd raced in the Street 5k series early in the week, and that consisted of five laps, so three didn't seem quite so bad. The run briefing was fun and interactive, and definitely one that other parkruns could learn from. For example, asking if any runners have hit an "anniversary run" helps to avoid cliquishness that might otherwise set in. With all that done, we were asked to step back behind the line, which ruined my cunning plan to shave half a second off my finishing time!

Pomphrey Hill is quite a small parkrun, typically attracting less than 100 runners: with this in mind, and a look at previous results, I knew that I should be running in and around the top 10, an unusually lofty position, and one that normally means I've set off far too fast!

So, the course:
In many ways, of the local parkruns I've done in the past couple of months, this one was most similar to our own at Longrun Meadow. It was run entirely on paths around a playing field, though they varied between light gravel, tarmac and bark. The major difference was the hill. Longrun Meadow is pretty pancake like. Pomphrey Hill, as the name might suggest, is not. The cry of "Up Pomphrey!" during the run briefing gave me the idea that this possibly was not "just" a hill. Actually, as Ira pointed out at the end, it's only actually just under 40 ft of climb. However, the steepness, combined with the fact that this was the spongy bark-covered part of the course made it more sapping than perhaps it should have been. Of course, what goes up must come down, and in its own way, the descent was as difficult as the ascent: the frosty morning meant that despite the salt that had been put down, footing was a little hairy on the tarmac path back down the hill.

The great advantage of multiple laps is the obvious fact that after the first time around, you know what's coming and can adjust your pace in anticipation: be that slowing for a hill, or accelerating because there isn't far left. The disadvantage is that when you have just got to the top of a hill, you are aware that you still have to run up it another twice!! Still, on balance I think I actually quite enjoyed the shorter laps, as it helped me to maintain a more consistent pace than I typically manage at Longrun Meadow.

Back to my run:
I spent much of the race in tenth place, and pushed up to eighth on the climb Up Pomphrey on the final lap. Despite actually being slower up and down the hill on my third lap, I held on to eighth place, and even put in a trademark sprint finish to cement it. Once I'd finished I looped back on the course a little bit to cheer on my wife, who was coming around to start her final lap, and had a chat to a couple of the other runners. Unsurprisingly for a parkrun, particularly a small one, everyone was very friendly and chatty: it's great to be part of such a nice community, even when miles from home!

Final analysis: I finished in 21:05, my second fastest parkrun anywhere, which was something of a surprise given how much harder the course felt (and the fact that my watch said 21:22, but no more about that!) My wife completed her first parkrun since July, since when she has been beset with chest problems. All in all, a good fun morning, and a course we both want to go back to.

Brent Knoll: race report

In mid-October, I completed my second half-marathon, Exeter's Great West Run (you can read about how I did here), which was my last major race of the year. However, to end my season, I decided to book in the Brent Knoll race. Brent Knoll is a 137 metres (449 feet) high hill a couple of miles from Burnham-on-Sea. Apparently, one of King Arthur's knights, "Ider son of Nuth", went to the hill on a quest to slay three giants. Or so says Wikipedia. While I didn't spot any giants, I can report that the hill itself certainly felt like a giant one!

The race started at a very sociable time: 11:30. I know that it isn't really a practical time to start a summer race, but at this time of the year, I certainly appreciated the later start. I travelled up on my own, and didn't know of anyone else doing the race, but as I was idling around waiting for everything to get going, I heard a cry of "Ben". I ignored it. Yes, I'm called Ben, and yes, that's what was shouted, but I just assumed it was for someone else. When the shout was repeated, louder, I decided to pay some attention, and saw Rob, Kerry, Chris, Eliza and Louise from my running club!

Louise, Eliza, Chris and me, looking very
clean prior to the race. (Photo credit: Rob Murr)

After posing for a few photos, we headed off to the start line, where I saw a fellow parkrunner, Andy, and had a quick chat to him. Before we knew it though, the (pretty quiet) announcer at the start called 3-2-1-Go, and we shot off. Knowing that Andy tends to beat me at parkrun, I let him ahead of me, but then stuck pretty close behind him. At least, I did until I saw him hopping out of a muddy puddle: his shoe had come off! The route, which heads out from Burnham to Brent Knoll, is flat for the first mile and a half, which I completed in about 7:30 min/mile. The subsequent mile and a half was done at about 10:50 min/mile. That mile and a half included the two significant hill climbs.

The first climb was the smaller of the two, but the terrain made it, in my opinion, much the harder. It was the slowest part of the race, and there were a couple of points that I was genuinely on my hands and feet, scrambling for some, any, sort of grip. More than once a fistful of grass stopped me from slipping back down the slope. To add to the chaos, everyone had their own idea of which route was the best, and this resulted in mass of bodies all frantically trying to just reach the top. Despite my worries that it would only take one overeager person near the top to slip and take us all out, the climb was eventually completed, and the course levelled back out for a while.

I would love to say that the level section allowed me to regain my energy and breath to attack the second hill. Actually, I just ran like a mad person to try and make up for the "time lost" scrambling up the hill, and as a result I slowed to a walk almost as soon as the second incline began. The footing was much better this time though, and after a while there were even steps. Oh, the luxury. Despite this, no one around me looked to even be contemplating running, and I certainly wasn't going to be the only idiot! But on reaching the top, the first stride off the step was back into a run. No time to stop and admire the wondrous views, ya know, this is a race!

Okay, I did have a glance around and take in what I could, and it was stunning, but I certainly didn't have the time to do it justice. A quick half loop of the top, and we were heading back down again. For this section of the race I have to thank the chap in front of me, who demonstrated an effective technique which I shamelessly copied. I'm sure all fell runners are aware of it, but it is essentially to continue to lean slightly forwards, and to zig-zag down the hill. The pair of us passed a number of runners as we descended. In the back of my mind, the next descent was starting to loom large: I'd struggled to scramble up it, how the heck was I going to safely get down it?!

Well, as it turns out, with a commando roll.

My mind began to buzz about the hill as we approached it: I didn't know how people would be attempting it: crawling back down, scrambling, sliding? It turned out, just running. The runner who was now in front of me (not the downhill expert) lost his footing at one point and slid a couple of metres on his bum, and then in the same place, my foot went completely from under me. I have little recollection of exactly how I rolled, but the mud was on my elbow, back and bum. Thankfully, after one roll I was back on my feet, and still running down the hill at pace. Amazingly too, I'm bruise-free!

With that descent safely (ish) navigated, it was just the level slog back to the start/finish, though by this stage, my legs were feeling decidedly tired! With just over a mile to go I was passed by another runner, and after a short argument, I convinced my legs to speed up a little and keep pace with him. I essentially dragged myself along behind him, and then, like the bastard that I am, I found that little bit extra and passed him in a sprint finish.

In fact, I was then told off by Rob and Kerry, as I'd ruined their photos by running too fast. They suggested that I go back and do the finish again to get better ones. I demurred.

I finished with a time of 51:11, which was probably faster than I was expecting to go, although the conditions were probably better than in the past couple of years, which I'd used as my benchmark for times. Andy came in about a minute after me, having lost his shoe twice more during the race: possibly tighter lacing is needed! I was surprised, but pleased, to receive a finisher's medal, as I hadn't seen anything about one in the race information!

So, it might have seemed mad to make my celebratory end of season race a muddy hill climb, but all in all, I had a great time, and will probably be back again next year!

The off-season: 11 top tips for things to do during enforced rest

After the Great West Run in October, I always planned to let my body have a bit of a rest. In fact, I was basically prepared to give it the rest of October and all of November. Now, admittedly, this wasn't complete rest. Just dropping down to a comfortable three runs a week, totalling about 12-15 miles. Apparently though, my body didn't appreciate the efforts I was going to, and took matters into its own hands. Or more accurately, lungs.

Which left me with more time on my hands than I expected to have. So here are my 11 top tips for things to do during the off-season.*

  1) Book races
Okay, so I might be ill now, but that's no reason not to book out the whole of January, February and March with races right? I joked to a friend yesterday that my "long-term planner" is actually just my race diary. It wasn't actually a joke. I don't race as regularly as many, but I've got three races definitely booked, and another four pencilled in. Just in the first three months of next year. Oops.

  2) Buy winter kit
That first day that you step out the door and think "by jove, it's cold" (or however your mental voice would phrase it) is the time to stock up on winter running gear. I've been pretty good this year, and only picked up a couple of things so far: an extra hi-viz t-shirt, and a compression top that matches my running club vest. Because, you know, I don't want to clash.

  3) Sort running kit drawer
While we're on the topic of the kit, is it really still necessary to have four different vests in the drawer? Now that it's cold I'm surely going to do clothes washing often enough to only need a couple of those right? And where did I hide those gloves away? And what is that?

Okay. I haven't actually sorted it yet. I keep looking at it
and then finding something else to do. Can't think why.

  4) Watch a box-set / complete a video game / read a trilogy
Remember that box-set you got for Christmas, but never managed to watch because you were out running? Now you can watch all 24 episodes! Or that video game you started, but then just sort of... forgot about. Or that trilogy that looks really good, but you're worried that if you don't read them quickly, you'll forget who all the characters are. Seriously, I've completed about 25% of Grand Theft Auto during this "rest", and that isn't a small game.

  5) Volunteer at parkrun
If you can't run... volunteer! I don't think that slogan will catch on. Also, it turns out that if you go and volunteer on a cold day with horizontal driving rain, and a chest infection, you then develop a fever to go with it. I don't recommend the pair, individually or paired up. So, if you're resting due to illness, maybe skip this idea.

  6) Read everybody else's blogs and get jealous
Actually, now that I think about it, this one isn't ideal. I mean, it's great to be able to catch up with what you're all doing and stuff. But seriously people, why don't you all take a couple of weeks off too, just to make sure that I don't get jealous. Thank you.

  7) Write a training plan
New season: new plan. In my case, the new plan is basically the same as the old plan, but with two extra runs added in, and a longer long run. I'm hoping that nobody notices that both of the extra runs have been added on the same day. I'm sure mentioning it won't make it any more obvious. Ho hum.

On the back of an envelope, obviously.

  8) Write your Christmas list
This probably only works if you're reading this roughly when it is published. If you're catching up, or randomly found this on Google and it's February, maybe give it a miss. But otherwise, start scribbling that list down: new trainers, new Garmin, that swanky Nike top with the thumb-holes in the sleeves...

  9) Eat
Because it's a proven fact that the next best thing to running is eating. Try out some new recipes: plenty of those that took too long to consider when you had to factor a run in are now perfectly do-able. Of course, you might need to think about going for slightly less calorific options, but that just adds another challenge into the cooking, and might expand your repertoire! Me - I'm thinking Chocolate Fondant and a couple of new curries. Not together. Probably.

Sadly, this is not one I've made. Hopefully mine will
look this ace though. (credit: Robin, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

  10) Polish and sort medals
So, they've been hung up on the wall for a while now. They could probably do with a dust and polish. Now that I look at them, the display is a little imbalanced too: all the long ones are on one side, which looks a bit odd. But if I move that one over, the colours will clash. This could take a while.

  11) Rest
Oh yeah, I sort of forgot about this one, but I think it's pretty important. Rest. Whether enforced or not, let the body have a bit of a break so that any ongoing niggles can sort themselves out and you'll be fit and raring to go for the next season .. next week .. tomorrow.

So there you go, 11 things to keep you going when you're not running. I'm sure I've missed some important things out though, what do you do to stay occupied and reasonably sane during some down-time from running? Do you just go crazy?

* By "top" I mean, the first ones I thought of. And by "tips" I don't mean suggestions. Actually, they're just "things".

parkrun tourism: Yeovil Montacute

A couple of weeks ago, I headed out for a little more parkrun tourism. It came hot on the heels of a visit to Killerton, and was the last week in a five-week absence from my home parkrun (rest, illness, Killerton, rest, Yeovil). I was quite tempted to just head to my home run after so long away, but this bit of tourism had been planned for a while, so I stuck with the plan.

Location:
This is technically the next closest parkrun to me after Longrun Meadow, although the differing quality of the roads means that it takes more or less the same time to do the 22 mile drive to Yeovil Montacute as it does to drive 28 miles to Killerton. Like Killerton, the Yeovil Montacute run is located in the grounds of a National Trust property. Unlike Killerton, the route goes right past the house, with the east façade (pictured) providing a gorgeous backdrop to the run. Admittedly, despite the size and glamour of the building, my attention was elsewhere while running!

The stunning Montacute House (credit: Mike Searle, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Terrain:

Again, this varied completely from either of Longrun Meadow or Killerton. The route was entirely run on grass, and undulated throughout. The course was reasonably dry when I ran it, but I suspect that some of the ditches that I dropped down into would get quite tasty in the winter months. In fact, the ditch jumps, which Sarah (@mia79gbr) raved about so much in her blog post back in April, were the main reason I wanted to do this course so much. What I did forget reading in her post was that there was a "massive hill in the last kilometre". This did catch me a little by surprise. It shouldn't have done, but it did. Underfoot, the course is most similar to a cross-country course: my trail shoes performed admirably, but a set of XC spikes would probably be the most effective. Once it gets a bit wetter, this isn't a course I'd recommend attempting in normal road shoes, I suspect you'd slip all over the place!

Course:

The route takes in one "little lap" and one "big lap". At the end of the first lap, the little one, you are running directly towards the house, the finish and all the cheering supporters. This provides a similar boost to the traditional lap set-up at Longrun Meadow, although I didn't see a similar boost in pace! The big lap then completes an entire circuit of the grounds.

Summarising, I really enjoyed the run. I ran a slower time than I've achieved at either Killerton or Longrun, although my pacing was pretty awful, so that will have played a part. It is less well-attended than either of those as well, which did make the latter part of the race a little uncompetitive: it was pretty clear that I would finish 17th, no higher and no lower, for the last mile of the run. That said, as with every parkrun I've attended, the support was great from all the volunteers and spectators, and I would love to go back when it's a little bit wetter! Additionally, I'm really glad to have three such completely different courses as my three nearest parkrun events.

Exeter's Great West Run: race report

After completing the challenge of running my first half-marathon earlier this year at Silverstone, I knew I wanted to do an autumn half as well. Realistically, I had three choices: Cardiff, Bristol or the Great West Run. Cardiff and Bristol are both flat, fast courses, while the Great West, being in Exeter, is on the hilly side. I chatted to a few people, and after enjoying a few undulating 10k courses, decided to go for the Great West Run.

Oh my God, why?

Okay, okay, it wasn't actually that bad.

Race vest: ready!

Much as with the Taunton 10k, I didn't have the ideal preparation: two weeks before the race I spent pretty much the entire week off work sick, and the week directly preceding the race was a six-day week, with Friday and Saturday being taken up entirely with a stock-take. I know, woe is me! All that accounted for, I didn't feel too bad on the Sunday morning. I had spent the previous evening preparing my race kit: club kit with number attached, some food, drink and warm clothing, nothing too complicated. A 6:30 alarm was a little earlier than usual for a Sunday, but not too bad – especially as my 1-year-old daughter woke us up at 6:20 teething anyway!

Breakfast: Porridge and a glass of water, and by five past 7 I was heading out of the door. Travel and parking passed without any trouble, and I was glad to have parked in a legal place, as walking back to my car afterwards I passed plenty of cars with fixed penalty notices on them. A short walk got me to the race village, where I met up with a friend from Twitter, Matt (@MattUpston) and discussed some race strategy: he knew the course pretty well, and I was happy to take on all the local knowledge that I could!

Heading over to the start, I met up with Al, who I often run with at parkrun: we tend to finish around the same point. I probably have a slight edge at 5k, but he’d run a 1:38 half-marathon earlier in the year, so I knew if he was in that sort of form I wouldn't have a chance of keeping up! That said, we had decided to head out at around 1:45 pace, i.e. 8-minute-miles, and then see how it felt.

As you can see, we didn't really stick to that plan. The first mile was downhill, so running a quicker time along that wasn't an issue, and actually it felt good. After that we settled into a slightly slower pace, and although it might not meet the official definition of "conversational pace", we did (perhaps stupidly) proceed to have a conversation for more or less the first seven miles of the race. This did get us a few odd looks: apparently chatting is frowned upon at that pace.

Splits courtesy of Strava!

I struggled with the Little Miracles energy drink, which was at seven miles: it was sweet and sickly, and with the lid removed, the hole to drink from was the size of a milk bottle top! I took two gulps, accidentally spilling it all over my top, and then gave up on it. 

There had been a few ups and downs during the first half of the race, but with the exception of a couple of sharp hill at around the three mile mark, they had been pretty friendly. This changed as we approached eight miles. This hill I already knew about: around 150 feet up towards the university. My wife studied at Exeter, so I had plenty of experience of this part of the course, and while that didn't help physically, it was nice to know what I was facing. It was especially nice to know that after reaching the university entrance, the road drops and then climbs again, something that had a few other runners around me cursing.

I think it's fair to say that at this point Al and I both felt we were holding the other back, but amazingly we had managed to hold our pace at around 7:40. Strava suggests this was a "grade adjusted pace" of 7:19 and 7:09, and that might have contributed to my later struggles. Despite being a warm morning, from around this point I started to feel quite cold; the hairs on my arms stood up and I shivered a few times. I knew this was likely due to a fuelling failure of some kind: whether I didn't have enough sugar, water, or just energy I don't know, but it clearly wasn't a good sign. I opted for the not-very-sensible tactic of ignoring the chills and continuing along with Al.

I started to really struggle over the next two miles: I was shocked when I looked at my splits after the race and discovered that they remained around the 7:40 mark. I had been warned that the out-and-back leg along Pinhoe Road was hilly, but I had relegated it to "undulating" in my head. I managed to keep running the whole of the out leg, but as we climbed back up a hill approaching 12 miles, I told Al to head on, and dropped to a walk. After about 20-30 seconds, and spurred on by a passing runner, I started running again, but dropped down to a walk twice more over the next half mile. Another runner, whose top announced him as Paul, also walked bits, and we geed each other along for a while. Amazingly during all of this, I managed to keep Al in sight, and after taking on some water I thought I might be able to chase him back down before the finish. 

I didn't manage it: he kicked on for the final sprint after the 13 mile marker, and although I did similar, I didn't have enough to close him down. For the first time at the end of a race, I threw up within a few steps, but thankfully after sipping at the offered water, I was feeling pretty okay again within a couple of minutes. I obviously looked in a bit of trouble, as one of the marshals at the end hovered over me, asking if I was okay, and if I needed a medic. Thankfully it didn't come to that!

My time was 1:41;52, just five seconds behind Al in the end, and over ten minutes quicker than my only previous half-marathon attempt. I had mixed feelings at the end, the massive PB was obviously great, but I'd been quietly hoping for a sub-1:40 time, which I'd been on track for until those final couple of miles. That said, it was a hilly course, and I'd clearly messed up with my preparation somehow, so I was glad that having ignored my chills, I hadn't ended up in an ambulance. 

I'd like to experiment with gels before my next half, as that might provide a decent alternative to relying on race-provided energy drinks during a race. Similarly, a slightly shorter and less stressful working week leading up to the race would be nice! This morning, looking back, I'm really happy with my time on that course. 

Have you ever had the chills during a race, even when it wasn't cold?

How do you fuel before and during a half marathon?

parkrun tourism: Killerton

Firstly, a question: as a brand name, "parkrun" isn't capitalised. Grammatically this is clearly incorrect, it is a proper noun, and therefore should take a capital letter. However, as a corporate styling, it doesn't. I can cope with that. But, but... what about when it starts the sentence, then what am I meant to do?! Anyway, never mind, I went with the corporate styling, even though it offends my eyes.

Last weekend, I decided to cheat on Longrun Meadow parkrun, and pop down the road to my next closest. This isn't the first dalliance, but previously it has only been on a weekend when I was out of Taunton anyway, and everyone knows the postcode rule, right? But this time was different, I was still at home, I could have easily walked down the river for my usual Saturday morning routine, but I wanted something new, different, exciting! I wanted... Killerton parkrun.

Actually, there's a bit more to the story than that: Killerton were short of volunteers early in the week, and my wife currently isn't running, so given that we'd wanted to try the course out for a while, it seemed an ideal opportunity: she signed up to barcode scan, and I went along to run. Killerton was very, very different to Longrun Meadow, and rather than write a normal "race report" style post, I'd like to compare and contrast:

Willow Cathedral in Longrun Meadow
(credit: shuunyanet, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Location:

Killerton House (credit: Roger Cornfoot)

This is the first, and most striking difference. Longrun Meadow is part of Taunton's flood defences, and consists of paths around flood pools. A number of projects have resulted in the Oak Barn and the Willow Cathedral (pictured), but it is still essentially a flood plain! In contrast, Killerton parkrun takes place in the grounds of a National Trust property, and weaves its way through woodland down onto pasture land at the end. Not that I was doing a great deal of sightseeing during the run! Being a National Trust site did help us navigate to the run, as there were useful brown signs directing us from the motorway, although my car's sat-nav still got some use! The other obvious difference in locations was in their distance from me: Longrun Meadow is a slow twenty minute walk along the river from home. Killerton was a forty minute drive. I know which I'd generally prefer on a Saturday morning, although, with a young daughter, I'm up early enough either way!

Terrain:
As a flood plain, Longrun Meadow is almost entirely flat, and predominantly on lightly-gravelled paths. There might be some sort of technical name for the type of path, but I'm not really a path expert, so if there is, I don't know it. A short section is tarmacked cycle path, while another, dubbed "the muddy bit" is grass in the summer, and a mud-bath in the winter. Killerton on the other hand is an undulating course, though one that drops about 125 feet from start to finish, taking in fields, woodland paths and farm-tracks. The footing is uneven in places, uneven in others, and particularly hazardous with the current generous layers of autumn leaves. Thankfully, some of the gates are left open and guarded by marshals to prevent hazardous prancing over cattle-grids or vaulting over fences. (Though I hear one such manoeuvre might have been involved when the course record was set!)

Course:
Apart from the terrain, the most obvious difference between the runs is perhaps that Longrun Meadow parkrun is run over two laps, while Killerton takes in just one: and in fact as the start and finish are a few hundred metres apart, it could be argued it isn't even a lap! I've always favoured "one lap" events, citing the fact that multiple laps of the same course would be boring, and having to go around everything again would be mentally tougher. To an extent, I stand by that, but on the other hand, taking in two laps of Longrun Meadow means that we run past the finish line, where most of the volunteers, and any supporting family members are, halfway around. Whether you're struggling or not, this gives a nice little boost in the middle of the run. Not just a mental boost either: the speed increase in the graph below is replicated in almost every run I do at Longrun Meadow, and it's completely unintentional.

Not sure your cheering and clapping helps? My pace graph says it does!

At Killerton however, only the marshals provided support around the course, and while that support was welcome and well-received, it can't quite compare!

Volunteers and runners:
What wasn't different? The cheery, friendly nature of every parkrunner and volunteer. Despite being short earlier in the week, I think Killerton ended up slightly over-subscribed with volunteers as people sacrificed a run to help out. I got chatting before the race to a chap who was down visiting family, running his 49th parkrun, but his first at Killerton. We compared notes on our "home" parkruns and moaned about the hill we had to climb to the start. During the run, I did have a small problem with an unaccompanied junior runner, but these things happen, and credit to the Killerton core team, after I mentioned it, they posted a notice about junior runners on their Facebook page later that day. I hung around at the finish line, cheering runners home after I'd finished, and as always it was great to see the smiles as people pushed for the final sprint.

So the conclusion? Different, different, but same! This week, I've got to work on Saturday, but next week I'm cheating on Longrun Meadow again, and am heading out to Yeovil Montacute. I'm sorry Longrun Meadow, but I've had a taste of something different, and now I'm hooked!

Have you cheated on your "home" parkrun?

What differences and similarities did you find?

Do you want to run more different parkruns, or do you prefer to run the same one?

Taunton 10k: race report

I came into the Taunton 10k without too much expectation. I'd only entered the event because my wife was running it, and she'd been forced to miss it due to ongoing chest problems. About a month earlier, I'd smashed my 10k PB, dropping it from 46:40 to 43:44, and in all honesty I felt like that run had been a bit of a flash in the pan. I certainly didn't feel at all confident that I could reproduce it on the undulating course in Taunton. To add to this, I'd done some canoeing on the Friday night, and my legs felt all kinds of awful on Saturday. So it came as something of a surprise when I turned into the final stretch of the race and saw that the timer read 43:32, and I should get a move on. But I jump ahead of myself...

My own training had been a little haphazard for the month between the Battle of Sedgemoor 10k (BoS) and this one. I'd felt really sore for a few days after the BoS, and hadn't got back out running until the following Friday, and then after only a few days of training, I picked up a nasty stomach bug which put me out for another week. That out of the way, I managed to get back into some sort of rhythm with my running, but wasn't feeling as strong as I had before BoS. With a half marathon coming up in mid-October, I was worried about my long runs, and had considered squeezing this 10k into the middle of a longer run, sacrificing a good race time here for some valuable mileage. I managed to get a 10 mile run in the weekend before the race, and decided that gave me confidence enough for the half-marathon, and I could focus on the 10k as it deserved.

Running Forever RC were out in force for this race! *

I completed 5 one-mile reps at the track on Monday, at just slower than my intended race pace, and then went for a relaxed club run on the Wednesday. I skipped my normal Thursday run, and intended to go for a very relaxed parkrun with the buggy on Saturday morning. Canoeing aches scrapped that plan! Sunday morning I still felt pretty sore, but decided that I would go out and try to consolidate with a morale-boosting sub-45 time. Despite being my home 10k, I didn't really know the course very well, having never managed to take part before (but with a couple of DNSs).

The undulations started almost immediately, and my confidence took a bit of a hit: with my sore legs, even the relatively mild inclines were burning, and it was only the first mile! I slotted in behind a couple of guys I knew ran around my pace from parkrun, and just focussed on not letting them get away from me. The first three kilometres went through residential Taunton, before a climb over the motorway and off towards the village of Stoke St Mary, which was roughly halfway around. As always, my pacing could do with some work: my first mile was the quickest of the race: 6:52, but then I settled into a pace just over 7-minute miles.

The support around the whole course was incredible, even through the country lanes there was a surprising number of people out to cheer us along, and being a member of a Taunton running club, Running Forever RC, I gained benefit from the "home support". I won't pretend that I knew even half of the people who cheered me on with cries of "Go Running Forever!", but they all helped. As we rose over the motorway for the second time, I was buoyed by both the knowledge that this would be the last incline, and encouragement from club-mates Nadine and Dave: although the suggestion that I made it look "effortless" might have irked, I was certainly not finding it such!!

Effortless? Effortless?! Okay, I might like a little more relaxed than I felt... *

All that was left was a drop down the other side of the motorway and then a flat run for the line: but I couldn't get too excited, there was still most of a kilometre left! I pushed on, pulling away from a lady that I had passed going up the hill, and soon found myself in no-man's land: I couldn't see any runners ahead of me, and there was no one close behind me. I hate that situation at the end of a race: I like a bit of a personal challenge: to either chase someone down, or to keep ahead of someone, so it was only when I turned that final corner and saw that I was on course for a PB that I had incentive to push on and actually sprint the final twenty or so metres.

I stopped my watch at 43:40, four seconds inside my previous best, and the following day it was confirmed as 43:39. So, despite not really feeling too positive about it before, either mentally or physically, it went pretty well! It has definitely given me a mental boost, knowing that my time at BoS wasn't a one-off. I don't have any 10k races scheduled for a while now, so this PB will hang around for a bit, but I now have confidence that I'm continuing to strengthen and improve as a runner, and hopefully by the next time I race the distance I can take a bit more off again!

In the mean time, I've got Exeter's Great West Run (half marathon) in the middle of October, which is dominating my training for the next couple of weeks, and I'm taking part in a winter 5k series in Street, where I'm hoping to go sub-20 by the last race.

* Photo credits: Lainey Whitworth and Nadine Prouse.

Battle of Sedgemoor 10k: race report

In many ways, my last five months have been spent gearing up for this race. I didn't necessarily have a specific training plan laid out for it, but this was my focus race. During that time, I raced four other 10k events, and set two new PBs, inching my best time down from 47:25 to 47:00 to 46:40. But the Battle of Sedgemoor is known as a PB course, and I had my sights set on a significant new record: sub 45 minutes. Of my three resolutions for 2014, this was the only one I hadn't yet achieved.

Things started badly: a month or so ago I re-sprained my right ankle playing football, and I still haven't completely shaken the niggles off. A fortnight before the race, I hurt my left foot on a tempo run. Neither was particularly major, but between them they caused me to severely drop off my mileage in the couple of weeks before the race. I even considered taking painkillers for the race itself, but decided that I really didn't want to start down that road.

Onto race day: despite being my fifth 10k of the year, this race represented something new for me. This was the first time I would truly be racing as part of my club. Although I had done two other races since joining, there were no other club members at those races, so I was still on my own. This race had a new feel: at 9:30 we were meeting up in Taunton, to head over to Langport in convoy. This meant that at about 9:15 I had to frantically go to the petrol station to make sure I could make it to Langport!

Still, it wasn't that different: park, find race number, pin race number on, idle around, have club photo taken (okay, that was a bit different), wander over for pre-race briefing, head to start line.

So... I have a tree growing out of my head... (Photo: M. Lomax)

At the start line, disaster two struck. (To recap, disaster one was a couple of foot injuries.) Disaster two had the potential to be much, much worse. My Garmin simply would not find any GPS. This was an issue: on the back of my hand I had written pacing notes, but they would mean nothing if it didn't get some satellite signal. It's safe to say I was in a bit of a panic. Thankfully, another member of the club, Andy, was also aiming for 45 minutes, and another wasn't far behind, so I was able to initially judge my pacing off theirs to an extent.

I'd looked at the course profile before the race, and knew that the first mile to mile and a half of the race was a gentle climb. My plan had been to take this gently and then push on, but with no pacing data, I think the first kilometre was at sub 7 minute miles, and the second not much slower. Finally, about 2.5 km into the race, my Garmin started! It was useless as a stopwatch, but it allowed me to keep an eye on my pacing. I was still running with Andy, though typically one or the other of us was a few paces ahead. At the 4 km marker, I asked for a time check: 17:30: about 30 seconds quicker than I needed to be for 45 minutes. And looking at my pacing, I was still running quicker than I needed. I figured I was either doing pretty well, or was about to crash and burn.

At 4.5 km was the first drinks station: I took a plastic cup, just about managed to avoid spilling the whole thing. I then took a tiny sip, more to wet my mouth than actually drink anything, and dunked my hand into the water so I could splash my face. The next drinks station came up far too soon afterwards, at around 6 km, and I opted not to take another drink; a decision apparently shared by more or less everyone around me, as we all arrowed straight through the middle of the offering arms.

It was around this stage that I started to pull away from Andy; I knew that I was still running ahead of my target pace, and I was still a little worried about that, but I felt good, and let myself be dragged along by the other runners around me.

I must admit, I had forgotten about the incline at 7.5 km. I certainly wish the course had forgotten about it too: that hurt. Still, it is a fact that on a course that finishes more or less where it starts, any ups have corresponding downs, and the last kilometre was mostly downs. Although I hadn't had a real time-check since the 4 km mark, I knew my pace had been good since, and I could cruise the last kilometre, but on the other hand, I was still feeling pretty good, so I notched the pace up a little, which brought me close to the chap in front as I approached the finish funnel. Always one for a bit of a fast finish, I pushed to pass him through the funnel: unfortunately the cheering crowd let him know what was happening, and so he sped up. I ended up in a flat sprint; perhaps not the most sensible thing, but brilliant fun! I pipped him to the line (though our times were identical).

In all the excitement, I hadn't actually looked at the finishing clock: having crossed the line and been handed my medal, I'd found a spot in which I didn't think anyone would mind too much if I threw up (I didn't, as it turned out) and then got a cup of water. By the time I glanced back, it showed 44:05. I'd done it!

Looking at this, it's possible that the other chap didn't put quite
as much effort into his finish as I did. (Photo: M. Lomax)

I returned to the finish line in time to see Andy come through in just under 45 minutes, which meant that I didn't have to feel guilty about possibly dragging him along too quickly at the start! From there, our club runners came through regularly, and set a dizzying array of PBs.

As the photo shows, my time was actually sub-44: 43:44 in fact, almost a three minute improvement on my previous 10k best, and significantly quicker than I was aiming for. Maybe running without any pacing information at all for those first 2.5 km, and then only limited information helped me: I've suspected for a while that the mental aspect of "But I can't run that fast!" when I look at my pacing might have been holding me back. Recently Sarah (@littlerunnergal) posted, or at least re-tweeted, something about running "naked", and maybe there is some benefit in it. That said, I'm still planning on taking my Garmin along to my next race.

Shiny medal!

But for now, there are four months of the year left, and I've achieved all of my targets for the year already. Should I relax a bit and just run for the fun of it, or should I set new targets and go about hitting them?

Distance vs. Speed

In what is quite possibly the most eagerly anticipated contest since the 2009 release of Monsters vs. Aliens, I have been considering the pros and cons of trying to run quickly against trying to run further. Although there is an element of general musing about the question, it is also key to planning out my targets for next year. If what I actually want to do is run really quickly, a marathon probably isn't the best plan.

First, a little background: I did my first half-marathon in March this year, and am running my second one in October. Other than that all of my races have been at the 10k distance. Before this year, I'd only passed 10 km a handful of times in training runs - including one 10 mile run which crocked me and stopped me running for the next four months.

Me halfway around my fastest parkrun.

My fastest time is currently from Longrun Meadow parkrun, 21:06. Based on this a few formulas tell me that I should be able to run roughly a 1:37:00 half-marathon. My target time in October is 1:45:00: if I achieve that, the corresponding 5k time would be about 22:50. I understand the differences:

• I've run over 30 parkruns, and do so most weeks, while I've only done the one half-marathon.
• All of my runs are 5 km or more, whereas I've never trained over 13.1 miles.
• The predictions are completely different stages of development: parkrun has honed my 5k PB, I'm still learning about HM pacing.

On Twitter, the majority of the @UKRunChat community are aiming to run further and further: lots are signed up for the Brighton Marathon, which I think is the first (and possibly last) marathon for many, while plenty of others are looking at ultras. This has created a lot of peer pressure (not necessarily negatively) to push myself to run further too. To this end, I pencilled the Robin Hood Marathon into my 2015 calendar, despite the fact that I never really planned on running a marathon quite yet.

The thing is, as I've mentioned before, I love running fast. Running for ages? Not so much. So, I'm coming to the conclusion that for next year at least, I might enjoy my running more if I just continue to focus on shorter distances, with a few half-marathons thrown in. To reflect this, my training would have much more speed-work: threshold runs, intervals, and any "junk mile" runs would involve fartleks. Hill sprints are difficult in Taunton, although there's a few places I can go to run them, it's just a matter of getting there!

All that said, I'm not completely decided yet: is this just an element of laziness or nervousness about stepping up my distances? I think that it's just making sure then when I do step up I'm prepared and confident at the shorter stuff. I figure that marathon runners peak later in life, so while I'm still (sort of) young I can focus on running as fast as I ruddy can. I'm even considering running on a track, perhaps not racing though; I've seen @runmapporun's times, and they scare me!

As you might be able to tell though, I'm still a little unsure about it all: part of me says I can do both, but getting the balance of speed and distance, while maintaining a sensible run/life balance seems a bit too much manage.

What are your goals at the moment: speed, distance, or both?

What advice can you offer me, what has worked for you?

Fat Man to Green Man: book review

I read a lot. Maybe not the epic levels of a couple of friends - one of whom read in excess of 100 books last year - but still far more than average. In the past few weeks in particular, I have been devouring books. But here's the thing: I don't read non-fiction. In fact, I just took a look through my reading list, and the last time I completed a non-fiction book was in 2010.

So when I'd won Fat Man to Green Man in a competition on Twitter, I have to admit that I wasn't all that excited. It was nothing specifically against the book, or its author, Ira Rainey. I just didn't read non-fiction. I'd never read a book about running, although I do get through most of Runner's World each month.

But in the last 24 hours, I completed the whole book. Admittedly, I've been off work with a hideous cold that has me convinced that I'll never run again, which means I have plenty of time for such things. I didn't have high hopes for the book - the title suggested that it would have nothing to do with my own running journey: I've never been fat, and I have little desire to run ultra-marathons.

What an idiot I am.

By the end of the first chapter I was sold. It might not be my literal story, but with a few details changed most runners can connect with it: because it's the story of driving yourself to improve. And of definitely not breaking into building sites to get across the M5. Rainey's writing style, and perhaps general attitude to life struck a chord with me. I'm generally a pretty positive chap, and often do things without completely thinking the consequences through.

As the book progressed I realised that my expectations didn't meet up at all with reality. I'd thought that anyone who pushed themselves to complete an ultra-marathon, and then wrote a book about it would be some kind of superhero. But actually, as the book repeatedly points out, this is not the case. Rainey is a normal chap with determination. There was no sugar-coating, nothing which was overtly offering coaching tips.

Despite this last point, the book probably has offered some coaching advice. I'm eager to add some more variety into my running, adding more hills and more trails, especially hilly trails! I also think that maybe I should be pushing myself a bit harder sometimes, a conclusion I'd already been slowly coming to. But has the book convinced me that I should run an ultra-marathon? Maybe, but still not for a long while yet!

In conclusion, this is a brilliantly written, down-to-earth story about a runner, not a superman. I would recommend it to any runner, and I'm convinced that all of them would find a parallel story to their own. Apart maybe from Dean Karnazes, who might actually be a superman.

Guest Post - The British 10k London: race report

Editorial comment:
At the weekend my wife, Lolly, ran the British 10k London, here are her thoughts:


2012 was the golden year of running for me.  Although I'd completed a 10k in 2010, it was the year that things finally happened.  In May I did the Bristol 10k without stopping to walk, and in September I set a PB of 1:07:43 at the Cardiff 10k.  But it wasn't without its difficulties.  Such as two chest infections.  By the start of 2013 I was struggling to get out running at all.  And then I found out I was pregnant.

Fast forward to the end of 2013 and I knew I needed a big motivator to get me back up and running in a timely and positive manner.  A couple of years earlier I'd read about this 10k that seemed to be a sightseeing tour of London, and this seemed to fit the bill as a target.  It seemed exciting enough to get me back out and prove that I could still do what I'd done before having a baby.

My training got off to a bit of a rocky start (really, they mean it when they say not to start running too soon) but I soon got into my stride.  With a training plan written by my lovely husband, and the immense help of weekly Buggy Fitness sessions, I was getting stronger and more confident every week.

On the morning of the race itself I was woken up by the chattering sound of a 9 month old baby, but mercifully only at 6:45.  This gave me plenty of time to get ready and head out on the bus and tube to Piccadilly Circus.  From there finding the baggage bays was easy, and there was then a well signed route to the start, ready for the much publicised opening ceremony.  I assume the ceremony took place, as when the race started I saw the Military Wives up on a balcony, but there were no loudspeakers where we were waiting and so we didn't hear a thing.

The British 10k operates a wave start on a first-come-first-served basis.  I think I was in the 3rd or 4th mixed-ability wave to start, and was very excited to cross the start line.  The mix of paces actually suited me, as it allowed me to run my own race rather than try to match others.  And because I was prepared for the situation, I wasn't fazed by faster runners from later waves overtaking me.  Not sure I'd have enjoyed it as one of those faster runners though.

The support from spectators along the route was intense, particularly near the start and finish.  Actually, I kind of found it too intense and was quite glad when it eased off around the 3k mark.  I settled into a nice rhythm and tried to ignore the increasing humidity wreaking havoc with my asthmatic, cold-affected lungs.

I knew Ben was planning to stand and watch somewhere between the 4k and 6k markers, and so I kept an eye out during this time.  A short rain shower provided a blessed relief, but running through a road tunnel was horribly hot and stuffy.  Not to mention the smell of sweat.  Shortly before the 5k marker I, for some reason, decided to check the time and so looked at my watch.  It, of course, showed my stopwatch time instead and a realisation dawned - I was on track for a PB.

I eventually decided I must have missed my supporters and was just trying to not be disappointed... when I saw them.  It turned out I'd already run past them once and just not noticed.  Smile planted firmly on my face I started to focus on the rest of the race.  Looking up I realised we were now running back along the Thames, and all those landmarks I'd expected were right in front of me.  It was pretty spectacular.

Unfortunately things started to unravel around 7k.  The humidity really got to me and, despite respite from the superbly organised water stations, I had to slow down and felt it would be a struggle to get to the end without walking.  Running over Westminster Bridge in bright sunshine compounded this issue, particularly as I knew we were just going to turn around at the end and run back.

The run back, though, was one of my favourite stretches of running ever.  There was a breeze in my face and I was running straight towards iconic buildings.  Just several winding roads to go and the end would be in sight.  I missed both the 8k and 9k markers (they weren't exactly hi-tech or very prominent) and was just thinking what a very long kilometre this had been when we turned the corner and I saw the finish.

A generic photo of Big Ben from 2009. But it's still there!

Approaching the line I was amazed to think I'd almost done it, and somehow managed to summon up the energy for a small sprint finish.  A few paces past the end I started to walk and stopped my watch.  A few paces further I dared to look at it and, if I'm honest, a few tears appeared.  In my first 10k since having a baby I'd beaten my PB by over two minutes.

From there the race experience went somewhat downhill.  After a bit of walking I was handed a bottle of water, and from there the runners seemed to merge into the general public.  I followed lots of other runners, in the hope that they knew where we were going, and eventually one of them found an earlier finisher who helpfully pointed us in the right direction.  Just as well really, as there were no signs at all pointing us back to our bags.

Back at the baggage bays there were lots of long queues.  It seemed that during the hour that the bays were 'closed' no sorting had been attempted, and so there was lots of shouting about descriptions of bags.  Our guy seemed particularly useless, unable to even master "it's by your left foot".  The baggage guys were also giving out the medals.  Mine didn't give me one, but another runner managed to reach into the box and get one for me.

If there were goody bags I never saw any sign of them.  With my bag finally on my back I headed back to the tube to meet my support team back at the hotel.  The complete lack of organisation had put a real downer on the end of the race.  It didn't end there, with the race results page producing random timing information for random runners.  Thankfully someone posted online where to get the results from the chip company, so Ben was able to look up my actual time.

Despite the issues, and the fact I felt uncomfortable with the number of people, I really enjoyed the race and am glad I did it.  I'm just glad I don't have to do it again now.  It's always important to look at why you did something when you evaluate how it went.  I signed up to this race to help me to get out running, and to prove that I can still do what I could do before.  While the first criteria was passed with flying colours, the second one failed.

During the course of my training I ticked off the longest solo run I've ever done - 3 times.  I fitted training around looking after a baby, my husband's training schedule and, right at the end, going back to work.  I ran on days when I felt I could barely open my eyes.  The truth is that I have changed.  Things aren't the same as they were before.  Because, before I had a baby, I couldn't run 10k in 1:04:50.

Chew Valley 10k: race report

After doing the Bridgwater 10k a couple of months ago, I was a little down: I'd messed up my pacing royally, and completely misjudged the course. I ended up slower than my PB which I knew I should have been able to beat. As a result, I looked about for a race to do to "make amends". Weirdly, despite all the information about the race, and all the Twitter hype, talking about the big hill on the course, I opted for the Chew Valley 10k. The few weeks before the race were not the ideal preparation: I had a bad bug which severely limited my mileage for a couple of weeks, and the heat only compounded the issue.

On the morning of the race, I was up early: a 6:45 alarm on a Sunday?! Still, after a quick breakfast I gathered my last bits and bobs together and headed off on the hour's drive. Although the early start was a little unwelcome, I knew that the resulting lower temperature would be a Godsend in the race. I arrived, got my race number and went to sit outside in the shade.

About half an hour before the race, a PT jumped up on stage (okay, a small lorry) and led a warm-up. I'm sorry? A warm-up? Despite the time, it was still really hot. I continued to sit in the shade. The warm-up lasted about 6 minutes I guess, and then people began to wander over to the start line: again I opted to resist the flow, and remained in the shade, waiting a bit longer. After all, the start was only just round the corner.

When I did finally amble around, I was impressed by the start. Marshals were holding boards with finish times on, and had created pens for the start. Quite common in larger races, but in a race with a field of 600, this was a nice touch. Given my... how to put it... predilection for... Okay, given that I tend to sprint away from the start like a shoulder trying to escape Luis Suarez, I decided to start a pen back to try and control myself. It worked! Mostly. My first mile clocked in at 7:13, almost exactly what I needed for a 45 minute finish. That was unlikely with the hill, but I had decided to pace myself for 45 minutes until the hill, and then just see what happened with the hill itself.

Over the next two miles, my pace dropped back a little, 7:30 for both miles, and then I had reached the bottom of the dreaded hill. I'd done a little research, so I more or less knew what to expect: long, and pretty steep in places. Problem was, Taunton had little to compare, and I'd hardly been in a state to be running hills. So, as much as I might have had an idea, it still killed me. I slowed to a walk twice, maybe three times, but didn't really lose much time doing so. In fact, the third time I was actually keeping pace with the woman running ahead of me.

A 100% accurate* altitude graph of the course.

Before the race, the heat and the hill had set me thinking of last year's Wellington 10k, but in actual fact it was not that similar at all. The heat wasn't too bad, a combination of the early start time and high hedges which allowed me to stay in the shade most of the time. Wellington had been up and down, whereas this course really was just the one massive hill around the halfway point. And the hill down later... that made up for it somewhat...

The worst of the climb was over after about a kilometre, but the course continued to rise gently, and my fourth mile clocked in at 8:50. I recovered slightly after that, doing the fifth mile in 7:46, but at this stage I knew that 45 minutes was nowhere near, and a PB (47:00) was highly unlikely. But I hadn't counted on that drop back down again. As bad as the ascent had been, the descent was equal to it. Strava tells me that I set a new best estimated 1 mile effort of 5:58. I believe it, even though I can't believe I can run that fast.

Being honest, I was out of control: my legs just kept turning over, I was flying. If I'd touched a loose bit of gravel, or a slightly slippery bit of tarmac... I shudder to think. But I didn't, I'm still here, I'm still in one piece. And being even more honest, I loved it. I'm a speed freak when I run. I don't like pacing myself, I like running FAST. This definitely ticked that box. Now, I just need to get fit enough that I don't have to be more or less falling off a cliff to manage it.

This might actually be the best race photo of me there is...

The course levelled off again slightly at the end, but I had adrenaline, and a surprise chance at a PB, so I managed to maintain my pace reasonably well to finish in 46:40, a new best by 20 seconds, despite the horrible hill.

In conclusion, I enjoyed the race and the challenge that the hill presented. I probably won't race it next year, which isn't really a reflection on the race, so much as the distance from home and how many other races I have yet to do in Somerset. But I'd definitely recommend it for a go. Just do some actual training on hills.

* The hill is only actually about 220 ft, or thereabouts.

Tin Tin Ten: race report

Yesterday I ran in my first real multi-terrain race. I did not have ideal preparation for it: a week before the race, I didn't own any trail shoes. The night before the race I went out for a meal, drank half a bottle of red wine and ate a spicy pizza. The day of the race, I ate another pizza for lunch, and then spent most of the afternoon lounging on my bed, reading, with indigestion. All of these things are my own fault. Not so much my own fault was that I had been ill the previous week, meaning that in the nine days leading up to the race, I had run 3.1 miles: one parkrun.

I remedied the lack of trail running shoes with spot of shopping the weekend before the race, picking up a pair of Brooks Cascadia 9s. I say "picking up" as though they were cheap, but even after a reduction for being in the sale, they were more than I had intended to spend. But then, aren't running shoes always? My bug meant that I didn't get a chance to try the shoes out before the race, and opinion was slightly split as to whether I should still wear them in the race. I'm glad I did!

Shiny new shoes!

I arrived in Tintinhull about 45 minutes before the race was due to start, which gave me plenty of time to wonder whether the race existed because someone found a decent looking course there, or (in my opinion) someone thought 'Tin Tin Ten would be a good name for a race, I wonder if there is a decent course there?'

Having never raced properly off-road before (Bridgwater had a farm track that was bad enough to ruin my road race, but certainly not enough to qualify it as a proper multi-terrain race) I was unsure as to what time I would be able to run. Although our parkrun course has a "muddy bit" I didn't think it was quite the same as a race that featured stiles, fields and sleeper bridges. I was right.

It rained most of the week leading up to the race, and more or less all day of the race itself. At the start line, most of the runners huddled under three trees to try and stay as dry and warm as they could before the race, but it was an exercise in futility. The race director mumbled something into a loud-speaker, I really don't know what, and then all of a sudden, we were off. A few quick twists and turns along the road, and within 100 metres we were off into the fields, and more to the point, climbing a hill. I settled into a rhythm, albeit at what felt like a painfully slow pace, and slowly passed runners as we continued to climb. It felt like a heck of an ascent, but actually it wasn't much at all, the terrain, and the fact it was right at the start, just made it feel like more.

Roughly half a mile in, I had found my pace, and was slotted in behind three other runners; a lady from Taunton AC, a chap in a yellow top, and a lady from Minehead RC. I say "found my pace" as though I was happy with the pace. In actual fact, little could be further from the truth. Most of my recent faster runs have been parkruns, and so I've grown somewhat accustomed to running at 5km pace on ground with good footing. In this, I needed to run at a pace suitable for 10km, on some pretty horrendous ground. I spent the first two-and-a-half miles thinking: "Argh, why are we running so slowly?" Our first mile split was 7:30. Our second was 8:50, but this included by far the muddiest parts of the course, and a couple of the stiles. In fact, at a couple of points during this section, I was worried that either myself or the lady from Minehead RC would end up splodged in one of the really muddy bits: the places where our feet dropped into the mud over our ankles.

We both survived, but by now the other two runners had dropped us, while there weren't any other runners for a distance behind us. This remained the case until the last kilometre. I've never really been one to talk while racing, but we exchanged a few words. I'm sorry to say that I sat just behind her throughout, using her pacing to get me through. After the first half - when the pace felt too slow - she dragged me through the second half: particularly when we reached the 7km marker, and I felt like I had nothing left to give. That said through the road section of the course, we ran 7:28 miles splits for two miles, before heading back off-road. I managed to cling onto the heels of my chosen pacer until the last kilometre, when mentally I picked myself up. With about half a mile to go I somewhat guiltily passed my "pacer" and pushed towards the finish. I perhaps pushed a little too early, but I managed to mostly maintain my pace to the finish, although the lack of anyone immediately before or after me meant that I didn't push quite as much as I perhaps could have done.

Not quite so shiny shoes.

Nevertheless, I was shocked to discover that I'd finished in roughly 48:20 (I'm still awaiting the official results). That's only 1:20 slower than my road PB. After a sip of water and a quick "well done" and an apology to the lady from Minehead RC, I headed back to the car to clean up, dry up and head home.

I was shocked to realise quite how muddy my legs were - although not actually that shocked now that I come to think about it! I had worried that the fact that a PB wouldn't be on the cards would take the shine off the race, but it didn't matter in the slightest. Despite the fact that 99% of people might have considered the experience pure hell, I loved it. There was mud and there was rain. But that was the fun of it! I thoroughly enjoyed my first real off-road racing experience, and can't wait to repeat it.

Race Fees: What Does it Really Cost?

Recently, over on one of my new favourite blogs to read, Magpie in the Sky, Stephanie posited an interesting idea: a race price cap. She has decided that she will only pay a maximum of £1.90 per kilometre in the race, meaning that she is willing to pay more for a marathon than a half, and more for a half than a 10km race. It seems a pretty sound idea, and as she suggests, is a good way of deciding which races to do, out of the thousands available.

So, I decided to take a look at my own races: I haven't done all that many, but I was interested. I discovered quite quickly that my first two races exceeded her limit, but that after that I had fared pretty well.

The first two races I ran were pretty big events: both marquee events for their relevant cities. They are the sort of events that are always going to be expensive, but when you're trying to motivate yourself to get into a running habit sometimes that's the kind of event you need. In contrast, my more recent and future races, particularly at the 10km distance, have been much smaller and cheaper events.

But, having done this, I got thinking. The entry fee isn't the whole cost. I recalled another blog, the brilliantly named Medal Slut, discussing the cost of races last July. She had worked out that the Paris Marathon had cost in the region of £750, once travelling, accommodation and other costs were taken into account. Looking back at Stephanie's blog, most of her races seem to be pretty local to her, a bonus of living in the London area. Living in the south-west, this isn't a bonus I share.

So, I added two more criteria: the distance to the race, with a relevant fuel cost, and any accommodation costs. For the fuel cost, I decided that I would use 12p per mile. This may seem a little low, but I currently have a company car, and that is what I am charged fuel at (lucky maybe, but you should see my tax-code as a result!) Although I have not always had this, it seems fairest to charge all races at a flat fuel fee. Accommodation was pretty simple, the cost of the hotel room. I didn't put the cost of food into the mix, as I still have to eat at home, and working out the difference between the cost of a meal at home, and the cost of a meal in a hotel / restaurant seemed far too in-depth.

The sharp ones among you might wonder while the Isle of Man 10k has "0" distance, despite clearly not being in the south-west. Basically, we were staying with family in the Isle of Man anyway, and from where we were staying, I was able to walk to the start. No extra distance was driven to facilitate racing. Also, all distances are rounded to the nearest 5 miles.

Unsurprisingly, the two races in which I stayed in a hotel the night before leap away as the most expensive per kilometre. Among the rest, the most significant change is probably for the upcoming Chew Valley 10k, which becomes a lot more expensive compared to some of its peers because of the distance I will have to travel.

My conclusion from all of this is that I'm not going to worry too much about race entry costs. While I might be on the look out for races that seem a little more expensive for their distance (such as the Wellington 10), or vice-versa (the Isle of Man 10k was a bargain), the difference is more academic than practical for me at the moment. Maybe if I start entering significantly more races then I'll pay more attention, but at the moment I don't think it is significant enough for me to worry. However, what I have decided is that I will only enter a maximum of one race per year which requires me to stay away from home: the accommodation cost really slaps a lot on, and unless a holiday can be incorporated, then I can't afford to be doing that too often!

Isle of Man Easter Festival of Running 10k: race report

When my wife discovered that there would be a 10k on the Isle of Man, over Easter, with part of the route going along the road past her parent's back garden, it would have been rude not to take part. After all, we were already booked to go to the Isle of Man, over Easter, to visit her parents. It was ideal!

The views were pretty good - not that there's much time for sightseeing during a 10k!

A little bit more research did reveal some slightly less ideal statistics: the race route included nearly 400 ft of elevation: maybe not a huge amount, but given that Taunton is pretty flat, and on a normal 6 mile run, I would possibly do about 150 ft of elevation, it was a significant increase to what I'm used to. Secondly, looking through the results from the past few years revealed that this was a race that traditionally had a very fast field. My personal best 10k time of 47:25 placed me 111 of 324 during the 2013 Stoke Stampede; it would have placed me 183 of 254 in the 2013 Easter Festival. It didn't take much research to determine that this was due to the large number of university clubs that came over for the Festival.

Still, despite being slightly daunted by the hills and my fellow runners, I decided that I wanted to do it anyway. The Festival also includes a 5 mile hill climb on the Saturday, and a 5km relay on the Sunday, but I opted not to do these, as it would probably disrupt our holiday too much. Oh, and the whole hill thing.

We arrived on the island on Wednesday, after a full day's travelling, and the following morning I went for a quick reccy around the Port Erin half of the course, getting an idea of how bad the hills really were. And actually.. they weren't too bad at all. In fact, I actually ended up running the reccy, which was meant to be doubling up as a pre-race recovery run, in 7:39 min/mile.

Race day itself presented me with another new challenge: the race was on Good Friday evening. Although I typically train in the evenings, I'd never raced in the evening before, and so I was a little unsure about my preparation. I opted for taking it easy, having a decent, but not too big lunch, and then a top up of some toast mid-to-late afternoon. My wife and her family had arranged that they would sit and cheer me from the back wall, but just as I was about to leave, I realised I had a small issue: although it wasn't too cold, I didn't want to be standing around at the start line in just my vest. A short deliberation later, and it was arranged that I would wear my wife's university hoodie, and my father-in-law would accompany me to the start to take it away again. It turns out that mostly everyone else just decided to stow their bags and layers in and around the boats on the harbour front.

Given the hills, and my result a couple of weeks earlier in Bridgwater, my race plan had been to start off around 8 min/mile, and see how I was doing halfway through. However, my pre-race run had given me some more confidence, and I'd done a little bit of maths and decided to go for 7:40 min/mile, which would put me on pace for somewhere around my PB. But my main focus, after flying off too fast in Bridgwater, was to pace my start.

Knowing that the field was likely to be pretty fast, I placed myself basically at the back for the start. This had the intended result, and I was pretty much bang on pace as I hit the first kilometre marker. Up until this point, the course had run along the lower promenade, and the first, sharp, incline followed, taking the route up to the upper promenade. Amazingly, I climbed it without a problem, and I might have even managed to smile for my father-in-law, who was halfway up with his camera. (I don't recall actually seeing the result - but I might have done?)

The side glance at the camera doesn't work, does it?

The course remained reasonably flat for the next couple of kilometres, before dropping back to the sea on the opposite coast, on the aptly named "Shore Road". In fact, during the race I ran along roads called "The Promenade", "Shore Road" and "Bay View Road" in both Port Erin and Gansey/Port St Mary - imagination is clearly not a Manx trait. After a short scenic run along the coastal path around Gansey Point, I passed a chap dressed in a tiger onesie who was clearly struggling with the heat, and then tackled the second sharp incline on the route, once again taking from me a lower to an upper promenade. I felt this climb much more, coming around around 6 kilometres into the race, and I spent the next couple of hundred metres catching my breath back.

The run then weaved its way through the middle of Port St Mary (I think?) and I ran this part of the route alongside a chap who must have been a local, because everybody, and I mean everybody, that we passed greeted him by name. It was quite surreal! I pushed on away from him as we started to climb up towards the back of Port Erin once more. This part of the course had been in my reccy run, and so I knew what to expect from the long drag up past the back of my parents-in-law's house. Along this stretch I fell into running-synch with a fellow runner, which really helped me with my pacing towards the end.

My sprint finish - followed more closely than I realised by my "pacemaker"!

After receiving the boost of seeing my wife, daughter and in-laws, all that remained was the last kilometre, which featured a drop back to the shore. I upped my pace to keep up with my own personal pacemaker - even though she didn't realise that was what she was! The hill down to the shore was a little steep, and actually forced me to consciously slow my pace in order to stop myself being a bloody mess at the bottom! We reached the bottom (one of the two "Shore Road"s), and I started to push the pace myself, accelerating away from my "pacemaker". Unfortunately, what I had forgotten at this stage was that the finish line was further along the coast than the start line had been, and so my sprint finish had been a little premature. I slowed somewhat as we climbed a short hill, but pushed on again when I could see the finish line: the digital clock tantalisingly displayed 46:5? as I approached: it would certainly be a PB, but could I crack 47 minutes?

I thought so.

The provisional results revealed I was wrong. I was timed at 47:00.0 - dead one, even to the nearest tenth of a second, to 47 minutes. Couldn't the timer have pressed their watch that tiniest bit earlier, for a 46:59.9? But no, sub-47 is yet to be cracked.

Still, this was by far the best race that I've taken part in. The course itself was a delight to run, my fear of the hills was completely unfounded. The scenery was amazing, with stunning sea views of both coasts. We were admittedly blessed with lovely weather, but this race is already in my diary for next Easter. And you know what... so are the hill climb and the 5 km.