Patience. Now That’s a Virtue!

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on October 17, 2014 by pacepusher

Outside the afternoon rained on… He sighed heavily. The books were stacked up all around, finished and bleak-looking. He was tired of reading. He sat his mug down on the table with a grunt. He was tired of tea.

He hauled himself to his feet, walked stiffly over to the picture window… He was tired of walking around with his joints creaking like an old man. He had a sudden passing desire for broccoli.

Afternoon workout was an hour and a half away; time to begin thinking about it. He was tired of psyching himself for workouts.

He was tired of being tired.

From, “Once a Runner” by John L. Parker, Jr

We’ve all been there. Tired. Tired to the point of being so tired, that we’re tired of being tired. Tired of doing all the things in life that we love. Tired of running, of reading about running, of drinking tea instead of alcohol, of eating right and of course of being sore. Tired because perhaps, our goals seem so distant, or perhaps, not as important as we convince ourselves that they are. Does your race time really matter? Isn’t work, friends and family more important?

Well to this runner, and I imagine most of my running friends, that race time, and the period of training leading up to it, is pretty much all that matters. Tired, because all our energy is engaged in a task. A task that will see us arrive on race day in perfect shape to achieve our goal. Me? I was tired. Tired of striving for better times, tired of not achieving what my training suggested I was capable of. Tired of having PBs that were not in the same league as my training partners. Tired of not being a sub 3 hour Marathon runner!

This was me as I began a twelve week block of training leading up to the Plusnet Yorkshire Marathon. I was struggling to snap out of a negative, tired phase in my running. Like everyone else, If I’m not running, I generally think about running and of how to improve. This generally doesn’t help lift my mood. Books, podcasts, films, websites, anything that might light the spark that turns me into a better runner, or at least just gets me motivated again. We read and/or listen to articles by runners, coaches, nutritionists, bio-mechanical specialists and anybody else that wants to have a say. But rarely does something strike a chord with me quite like this one simple word.  A word that stuck with me throughout my training, and throughout the race itself.

One morning I was listening to Cloud259 on the way to work. Cloud259 is a podcast, the USA’s version of the excellent Marathon Talk. Cloud259 gets it’s name from the search for a sub 3 hour marathon – 2 hours 59 minutes. On this particular episode, they were interviewing American runner, Christo Landry (Team Mizuno runner, but small fish in a big pond really!).  Like Marathon Talk’s, “If you had 6 months perfect training… how fast could you run a mile?” Cloud259 have a final question. “What one piece of advise would you give to somebody looking to break 3 hours for the marathon?”

Christo Landry said just one word. PATIENCE.

Further questioning revealed that yes, he meant in the race, but also in training. That we shouldn’t expect things to happen too quickly. A block of training is designed to get you to where you want to be at the end of that block. Not at the start of it. The penny dropped, the spark was ignited.

Patience.

I’d had some hideous races over 10k and 5k in the lead up to this 12 week block of training. That’s when I got stuck in the ‘tired’ phase of running. Everything was negative and I had no confidence. Hearing the word ‘Patience’, suddenly made me stop stressing. Even before it was explained, I knew. Your ‘Target Race’ – the same as I’ve discussed previously regarding Charlie Spedding’s autobiography – is the race to be patient for, the day to become the butterfly. Anything in the lead up to that moment is not important. Yes, I want the best times I can produce, but ultimately, its just more training in the bank for your main goal.

Patience is not something I am blessed with. Put me behind the wheel of a car, in front of a computer screen or in a queue at the supermarket checkout and you’ll soon see my lack of patience in abundance! Even the fact that I have become known as pacepusher perhaps reflects this. But somehow, hearing the word in this context, especially with regard to the training block, it all made sense. Follow the plan, trust the training and don’t judge the results, or your ability, until the race you are targeting.

Patience on race day is something I would read about and consider throughout the training block too. After being introduced to Julian Goater’s book, “The Art of Running Faster”, thanks to Disco Dave, I would find myself constantly practicing pacing, running technique, efficiency, breathing and race craft. It brought new life to my running and I found myself in love with the sport again.

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My twelve week training schedule would be a little different from the rigidity of that by Pfitzinger and Douglas that I followed before the Manchester marathon. It would also contain about a third less mileage per week. In Manchester I failed in my sub 3 hour target. The pace felt fairly tough early on and I felt pretty broken by the half way point of the race. Therefore, it seemed obvious to me that what I needed before my next attempt was more basic speed. Secondly, I felt that I began the race tired; therefore I would reduce my mileage, include a rest day each week and have a longer taper. Thirdly, I was very nervous before Manchester and I think this also affected my performance. So, it again seemed like a fairly obvious decision to race more often in the build up to the Yorkshire marathon.

The key would be to include shorter speed interval sessions, more races and less mileage without sacrificing the endurance aspect of the training. So, I decided to draw up my own training plan. Now anybody that knows about my training plan for the West Highland Way Race in 2009 will know that when I draw up a plan, I don’t actually draw up a plan. I just make it up as I go along. It worked then, and I was confident that I could make it work again. I have enough experience to know all the main requirements for a Marathon training plan and I knew that this approach would give me more flexibility, leave me more inclined to except the need for rest/easy days when I needed them and that it would keep me more relaxed throughout my training.

So each week would have the following basic structure:

Mon – Easy run or rest
Tues – Club track session
Wed – Medium Long run
Thur – Club speed session
Fri – Rest
Sat – parkrun (easy or race)
Sun – Long run

Total approx. 40-60 miles

Returning to the theme, this would also allow me to be more patient. I could take recovery when I wanted, move sessions around and let the improvements develop at my own pace. It would also allow me to run with the Club, and with friends more often, further increasing my enjoyment of the training and again, keeping me relaxed.

Training had its highs and its lows. Yes I had the odd moan when things didn’t go well, but I tried not to dwell. I kept looking at the big picture. Patience! I was enjoying the track sessions, but I wasn’t really seeing improvements in my race times over shorter distances. Patience!

The breakthrough came in early September. I ran the Highland Perthshire Half Marathon on 6th September, which was a fantastic event. My time of 1:26.53 was not the time I was looking for, but I’d had a much better run and there were many positives. I ran with patience, sitting in a pack and waiting for the right time to up the pace. I got a bit carried away though upping the pace downhill and struggled in the last few miles. However, it was the closest I had been to my PB since I set it in 2008! Patience.

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I was racing again the following weekend over 10 miles. So, flexibility and all that, I increased my medium long run to 20 miles on the Wednesday evening. It was horrendous. I struggled from start to finish. It was a real ‘grit your teeth’ kind of run. Patience – 20 miles in the bank for race day. The Cumbrae 10 mile road race arrived. A club championship race, I was hoping for about 65 minutes. Again I sat in a pack for 5 miles and then started to push on. I finished first from the club and 9th overall, in 63.35. Delighted.

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The Runners World race pace predictor was now suggesting a 2:56.29 marathon. Suddenly I was starting to believe that patience really IS a virtue!

I had two more key sessions that I wanted to complete. Both would leave me full of confidence if they went well.

The first was my last long run. Three weeks out, it would be a 20 mile race pace session that I designed based upon others I had read about. The session would be 2 miles warm up, followed by 4 x 2 miles @ 6:40 m/m pace with one mile recoveries (approx. 7:30 pace) then 2 x 2 miles @ 6:30 m/m pace again with one mile recovery. I completed the session exactly as planned and got a real boost from it.

The second session, 12 days out, was classic Pfitzinger, an 8 mile run including 3 x 1 mile intervals, with 3 minute jog recoveries. I ran the intervals at 5:58, 5:31 and 5:42. This was much faster than prior to Manchester when I ran 6:02, 6:04 and 5:59 with longer 5 minute jog recoveries. Now all I had to do was endure the taper and I knew that I had a great chance of attaining my target – just one more spell of patience!

On the Friday morning of race week, I climbed onto the scales. I had reached my goal weight of 11st 7lb for the first time, having been 11st 8lb throughout the final week. I had been losing only 1 or 2lb a week throughout the training period, consuming a basic level of about 2500 calories, which was increased if the training volume required it. Yes, I’d even been patient in my weight loss!

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On to race weekend then… I was staying at my parent’s house near York so I had a reasonable sleep on the Friday night. Then after an easy parkrun on Saturday morning at Pontefract Racecourse, I spent the day drinking coffee, watching my Nephew play football, shopping and eating pizza! I was very relaxed, more so than before any marathon previously. I felt in control, ready to race and ready to get the job done. All my kit was ready and for once, I even knew exactly what my race strategy was! I was in bed reasonably early and slept as well as could be expected. I wasn’t nervous though, I was excited and I just kept going over everything in my mind, making sure I knew what I was doing and when.

Race day morning and I’m up and eating my tried and tested breakfast (50g porridge with 75g blueberries and 250ml skimmed milk – exact I know!), I didn’t want it now, but knew my body would later. We (Me, Dad and Mrs pacepusher) were soon heading towards York in the correctly forecast thick fog. The organisers had emailed and text competitors over the two days previous warning of traffic disruption and a possible delay to the start of the race. In the end, thankfully, it didn’t cause any problems, but the fog didn’t lift until after I had finished the race. During the journey I was forced to admit to Mrs pacepusher that I was finally feeling a little bit nervous. A little bit of nerves is a good thing though right?

I had a quick chat with the 2:59.00 pacer in the start area, to reassure myself as much as anything else that this was the right strategy. He suggested running just ahead of him for a few miles to keep out of the pack, but I knew I was safer keeping him in my sights and making sure that I started at the right pace.

I was soon nervously in the starting area waiting for England Rugby Legend, Matt Dawson to get us underway. As soon as I crossed the line, nerves disappeared and I settled in the group with the pacer. Patience. Patience. Patience!

IMG_9653.JPG Original photo from http://www.yorkpress.co.uk

Mile 1 – 6:48 seconds. “Congrats Mr Pacer, bang on time” I joked, and it seemed to break the ice in the group. From then on, those that wanted to chat and joke did, whilst others just ran quietly along side. My experience of running in a pack in the two build up races was invaluable. I was able to relax into the pace and at times just tune into the sound of the groups foot fall.

Running through York City Centre and past the Minster was great, and the crowds were excellent. I saw Mrs pacepusher and my Dad here and gave them a reassuring thumbs up before we headed out into the countryside. The crowds had made us all pick up the pace a little and miles 2 and 3 were 6:40 and 6:37. It was at this point that I realised the pace would be exactly what I would want and that I would stick with the group until at least 20 miles. Patience.

The chat continued between a few of us, but largely just me and the pacer. He was called Martin Rea and he was using the race as a training run for the 100k in Doha. We now realised that we had some further common ground and that I knew many of the names he was talking about, including amongst others, Jo Zakrzewski, who was also running the marathon that day and would go on to finish 3rd lady.

As the miles passed by, I couldn’t believe I was just chatting, laughing and joking with guys in the group. 10k – 41:45. Every now and then I would notice a group member starting to breathe a bit too heavily, and then they’d drop off from the group. I felt sorry for them. I knew how the rest of their day was going to pan out. It had happened to me in Manchester. 20k – 1:23:57 (42:12). Martin (the pacer) commented on how comfortably I was running, and he was right, it felt so easy that at the half way point (1:29:36) I started to push on a little. Mrs pacepusher’s final words to me that morning were, “Don’t be a dick!” I had told Martin this in the first half of the run and as I began to pull away he shouted to me, “Hey, don’t be a dick!” Brilliant! I settled back into the group… patience!

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Mile 14 and another reassuring thumbs up to Dad and Mrs pacepusher who had arrived just seconds before I did! I was so pleased to see them though and let them know I was still in good shape. This little out and back section had very large support. We’d been saying how quickly the miles had been ticking by and now it was evident why. Between us, the group had picked up the pace again 6:27 and 6:36 slightly uphill! Experience told and Martin suggested at the drink station on 15 miles that we all grab a drink, slow down and get our breath back – sound advice. I was strict with my fuelling strategy throughout, knowing what had worked in training. A gel and water at miles 3, 9, 15 and 21, and Powerade at miles 6 12 and 18, worked perfectly.

IMG_9652.JPGPhoto taken from http://www.yorkpress.co.uk

Miles 14 to about 19.5 are considered by those in the know to be the hardest section of the course. 14 to 18 is a long straight gently undulating stretch from the turning point of one out and back to another. You can see a long way ahead, and start to see people coming back towards you before you even reach the second out and back stretch at about 16.5 miles. This is where the fog was our friend! At no point could you see more than 100-200 meters ahead of yourself. Mentally, it made the section much easier than I imagine it would have been otherwise. Course knowledge can be valuable. I had researched as much as I could and knew where the hills were, and about these two out and back sections. The pacer was clearly reading our minds though. As we headed down to the 18 mile turning point (30k – 2:07:02, 43:05 10k split), I think all of us remaining in the group were thinking that the slightly uphill stretch back to the left hand turn at 19.5 miles would be a very long drag. Having run it last year, Martin advised us not to worry; that it wouldn’t feel as long on the way back. He was right and we actually picked the pace up through 18-20 miles (6:44 & 6:38).

The pace continued like this until the 24 mile marker (40k – 2:48:26, 41:24 10k split, my fastest 10k split of the race!) when Martin (pacer) said he was slowing down a bit to try and get as many people through under the magic three hour mark as he could. He suggested those feeling good push on. I didn’t look back, but I don’t think anybody else came with me at this stage. I don’t think I picked the pace up, but I certainly maintained it, and I was picking off those in front of me one by one.

I hadn’t struggled at all up until the 24 mile point. Running in a group had definitely helped, and any low points had been quickly dispelled by dropping back slightly for a short time, following someone else’s foot fall, then confidently moving back to the front of the pack. I only had to do this twice as I remember, once just after 15 miles, and once after a gel at 21 miles. This was the only time I had to take a High 5 gel from an aid station. I had carried 3 of my preferred SIS gels from the start, and knew I’d be using the High 5 brand at this point. I had tried them in training and although I think they’re rotten, I knew I’d be ok. However, I didn’t even know that a company would be daft enough to make an apple flavoured gel!!! It was disgusting, and for a short period I thought I was going to start being sick. Thankfully it settled fairly quickly and I was back at the front of the group. Thinking about it now, the 24 mile point was the first 3 mile split that I didn’t take on fuel other than a few sips of water (that’s all there was). Whilst fatigue must have played a part, it is perhaps no coincidence that I struggled from this point onwards. Perhaps another gel would have seen me able to pick up the pace a little over the closing two miles?

There is a nasty hill at about 25.5 miles. Before my discovery of Julian Goater’s book, I would have been dreading this. Equally, if I’d been having a bad day I’d have been dreading this. As it was, a runner (In a ‘Drumstick Lolly’ running vest – Classy!) that I had passed at about 25 miles, had just come back past me. I knew I would take him again on the hill, and with short fast strides, I passed him again, and then another runner before reaching the long downhill finish. I now, finally, allowed myself to believe I had done it; that I had smashed the three hour barrier. However, there was a female runner a fair bit ahead, and two angry runners behind that wanted their places back. I opened my stride and went for it – no more need for patience! However, unsure exactly where the finish line was (it was further back than the start line had been – I should have noted this whilst I was waiting at the start. School boy error!) I still held a little something back until I saw the gantry. I gave a massive celebratory fist pump in the direction of Mrs pacepusher and my Dad (still frantically waving his Bradford City scarf to help me spot them more easily), passed the female, and held off the chasing two, crossing the line in a fist pumping frenzy in an official time of 2:57:09 – BOOM!

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I waited in the finish area and congratulated guys from the group that were coming in under the three hours. I was delighted to see one lad who I grabbed and hugged as he burst into tears crossing the line. We had caught up with him at about 21 miles and he had voiced his disappointment that his sub 3 was now gone. “No” said the pacer, “we’re 2 minutes up, just keep me in sight and you’ll do it”. The lad had dug in, joined the group, and then managed to stay with it. A great effort, I know from experience how hard it is when the group catch you. To then pick up your pace and stick with them is a monumental effort and a hugely deserved first sub 3. I knew why he was crying!

As a group, we applauded the pacer over the line at almost exactly 2:59.00. I shook his hand and thanked him, then headed off to find Mrs pacepusher and Dad. I was feeling very emotional and hugging Mrs pacepusher almost reduced me to tears. Just talking to Dad about the race whilst walking back to the car had the same effect!

After I had collected my bag, and put some warm clothes on, I spotted the pacer. Taking Mrs pacepusher to meet him I said, “Tell her what I wasn’t”. He laughed, and trying to be polite, said, “Well he wasn’t a D.I.C.K.!”

pacepusher. Not Me!

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A couple of days after the race, there was an article by Meb Keflezighi on Facebook, courtesy of competitor.com. American, Meb Keflezighi, won the Boston Marathon this year, and is a fellow lover of Skechers running shoes (although he gets his free!). Here’s how his article finished,

The marathon is all about patience. When you have a bad day, don’t let it knock you off track. Keep your main goal in focus, stay healthy and gain confidence through consistent training. Imagine the excitement of the last few miles of the race at the end of your long runs and let that carry you to the finish line.

Patience readers, it is indeed a virtue!

The Commonwealth Games & The Plusnet Yorkshire Marathon

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on August 13, 2014 by pacepusher

So the Commonwealth Games have been and gone. Myself and Mrs pacepusher certainly made the most of the opportunity they presented to watch some top class sport (as anybody who is friends with us on Facebook will testify – selfie anyone?) and we succeeded in seeing the Triathlon, Rugby 7’s (x2), the Marathon, Swimming, Boxing, Badminton, Road Cycling, Hockey and Athletics (x2). We were lucky enough to witness some great contests and some great individual performances (more on that later) as well as seeing our home city really come to life. From the spinning Tunnock’s tea cakes at their opening ceremony, to the scantily clad Kylie Minogue at their close, in Irn-Bru terms, I thought the Games were truly PHENOMENAL!

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So what of these great contest and individual performances? Well, for me there are several ways to look at this.

In terms of performance, you can’t fail to admire the dominance of the Brownlees in the triathlon, the Kenyan’s in the Athletics, or the Southern Hemisphere sides in the Rugby 7’s. These are individuals and Teams at the top of their game. They expect, and are expected, to win – you’ve only got to see the New Zealand players and fans reaction to defeat in the Rugby 7’s final to know this is true.

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Secondly, there were the inspiring, and gutsy performances of those that came away with perhaps unexpected medals, such as Scotland’s Lyndsey Sharp and Ross Murdoch, England’s Jo Pavey and Australian’s Michael Shelley and Jess Trengove – I’m sure there’s many more.

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Thirdly, there are those who did pretty much what they were ‘supposed’ to do – Scotland’s Eilidh Child and England’s Steve Way for example. If this sounds unfair, I don’t intend it to. I think these athletes are to be celebrated as much as the aforementioned. Child delivered what was expected of her under the immense pressure of being Scotland’s poster girl. The Hampden roar was always going to struggle to lift her to the level of the Jamaican Gold medalist, but she delivered the silver which was what Scotland expected.

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At 41, Steve Way survived the media’s overhype to come home in 10th place and second Brit – although some would have you believe otherwise. His time being a new PB, adds to the fact that this is all that could really be expected of him, likewise Scot, Derek Hawkins who WAS the first Brit home, despite vomiting with effort.

IMG_9337-0.JPGSteve Way met the pacepusher’s at Tollcross parkrun – less than a week after his Marathon performance.

Finally, there are those for whom being at the Games was an achievement in itself – those that travelled into the unknown. The cyclist that had never cycled in a velodrome before, for example, or the triathlete who dived enthusiastically into open water for the first time before proceeding to swim breath stroke! Both individuals are brave and inspiring.

Ultimately they were all ‘the best they could be’ on the day, and seized their opportunities with both hands – brilliant!

What about the flip side? Those that failed to deliver. Like Eilidh Child, poster boy Michael Jamieson walked away with a silver medal. The difference is that he should have had gold. He wasn’t happy. The brilliant David Rudisha also walked away with silver when many expected him to take gold. He was delighted.

The reactions of these two athletes to their silvers is perhaps understandable. Jamieson was embarrassed by an unexpected defeat to a fellow Scot (Ross ‘F**k Me’ Murdoch) and showed his displeasure throughout the medal ceremony. Rudisha, returning from injury, did what Mo and Bolt didn’t. He turned up and gave his best, beaten only by Olympic silver medalist Nijel Amos from Botswana. He was delighted for his rival and for himself.

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So, back to real life, I am now into week 4 of 12 training weeks leading up to the Yorkshire Marathon on October 12th. I’m making my schedule up as I go along this time, but it will have all the key elements (long runs, intervals, hills, medium long runs and tempo efforts). I’m including more speed sessions than before the Manchester Marathon because, well, I was 2 minutes and 37 seconds too slow in Manchester! I’m also doing more races in the build up, including a 10 mile race and a half marathon.

The Commonwealth Games has given me a certain motivation, but I’ve struggled to get going a bit. Planning this post however, got me thinking.

What do I want from, and how will I perceive, my performance in this Marathon?

Obviously, I’m still desperately seeking my first sub 3 hour marathon, but realistically what am I expecting from myself on the day?

Unlike the Brownlee Brothers, I don’t expect to win. More to the point, like the breath stroking triathlete, I KNOW I won’t win, but I’m going to do my best. I will beat as many people as I can, but ultimately, I’m only racing the clock.

Friends and family are right behind me, I know that. They hope that I will, but they do not EXPECT me to, achieve a sub 3. Nor am I the Plusnet Yorkshire Marathon’s poster boy – although with these looks maybe I should be! There will not be an entire nation screaming me on. In fact on the grand scale of things, the only person that REALLY cares if I break 3 hours is me. The only pressure is that which I exert upon myself, and after recent disappointing 10k races, I know it’s a pressure I could do without.

So on the day I will strive to be ‘the best I can be’. I will remind myself that actually, there is no pressure, not compared to the stars of the Commonwealth, relax and run as well as I can. If that isn’t good enough, then I’ll remember this…

Many of the athletes at the games arrived in Glasgow with inappropriate, or in some cases, no kit! Bikes were donated to the Malawi cycle team, a female boxer had kit bought for her by a local club and a female marathon runner removed her shoes on the second lap as they were hurting her feet – they were trashed and didn’t even have an innersole! (See below). Whatever the outcome in the Yorkshire Marathon, I will be fortunate enough to have had my own running clothes, gels and suitable footwear – for that at least, I will be thankful!

IMG_9353.JPGPhoto courtesy of Paul Clawson.

The Edinburgh Marathon. Why?

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on May 29, 2014 by pacepusher

Desperation, desire, greed, disappointment, commitment, camaraderie, hope, or even panic. Why did I enter the Edinburgh Marathon, and is that why it went wrong?

The obvious choice from the short-listed words above is ‘disappointment’. For 12 weeks I had trained with the commitment and dedication that most would consider wasted on running. I missed 2 sessions – because I was kept in hospital overnight on a Friday and banned from running until the Monday – and at times I did more mileage than the training plan requested. I lined up for the Manchester Marathon in the shape of my life – only to fail in my attempt at a sub 3 hour time. I’ve blogged about the race, the struggle and the disappointment. I have also spoken of fist pumping the air in delight as I crossed the finish line having set a new PB after one hell of a battle. Disappointment. No, that was’t it.

I guess similarly, it wasn’t desperation. That was only really my first proper attempt at a sub 3 – I didn’t really believe it was achievable before Loch Ness last year and 3:05:25 was probably better than I was capable of on paper! It’s not like Edinburgh bought me one last chance.

Camaraderie? Well, the fact that my finish time in Manchester opened the door for me to enter Edinburgh as a ‘good for age’ participant was highlighted to me by good friend and club mate, Metronome Dave (or Disco Dave if you prefer!) I had not even thought about it until I received his message whilst enjoying a beer the evening after completing Manchester. I was sore and tired and not ready to think about it, but my entry would have to be made by 1700 the following day.

Once it was evident that another good friend and club mate, Jason (who needs a blog nickname) could also run, and that the Metronome himself would enter as our pacer for a sub 3, I came round to the idea. Before breakfast the next morning I had entered. ‘Camaraderie’, it would seem, could be the culprit. The truth is though, I had decided I would run it, and entered, before either of the other two had confirmed.

Did I panic? The fact that I had a little over 24 hours to decide on entry meant I failed to heed the advice of Olympic Athlete Frank Shorter. Basically, forget your last marathon before you try another. I didn’t panic, but I did have to make a pretty rapid decision. No, I can’t blame the lads, and I don’t think it was a race entered in panic. I had the Yorkshire Marathon in October lined up already, but I certainly hadn’t forgotten Manchester yet!

Desire, commitment and hope. Undoubtably these were all contributing factors. I’d already demonstrated my commitment towards the sub 3 goal in my training for Manchester, but the desire was more apparent in the race itself. Some of you may have heard my quote read out on the brilliant podcast ‘Marathon Talk’. In response to the question “what have you learnt from your Spring Marathon?”, I answered, “that every Marathon is a fight and that the referee is not always in your corner.” Only my desire for sub 3 got me through that race, and I guess I had hope when I entered, that Edinburgh would bring me that sub 3 time I so desire.

The truth is, however, that I entered that race out of greed. I felt almost as though I deserved a sub 3 and that Edinburgh would provide it off the back of the hard training I had already completed. The marathon should never be undertaken lightly and neither should your recovery time afterwards. Struggling through several niggles, I continued to train after Manchester. Racing a relay leg of the Highland Fling 3 weeks after the race, and then the Leeds Half Marathon two weeks after that, was probably too much. Running the Monklands Half Marathon the following week (the week before Edinburgh) was bloody stupid – even if I did run it ‘relatively’ easily. My body was not marathon fit when I stood on the start line in Edinburgh.

Further more, Edinburgh was never on my – already busy – race schedule for the year. A schedule that already contained two marathons. Adding a third was greedy and I got what I deserved. I blew up 8 miles in and suffered a long, slow, painful run to the finish.

In Charlie Spedding’s autobiography, he discusses choosing an animal to compare himself to in his running life (there’s more to it than that, but read the book, it’s excellent). He doesn’t choose a cheetah or a gazelle. He chooses, wait for it… a caterpillar.

At first I was baffled, but as he explained his thinking I began to see myself in the same light. Spedding (perhaps not as naturally gifted as his rivals but always willing to work hard in training) viewed the creature as living it’s life for that one moment. That moment when it would shine and be the best it could be. The moment it became a beautiful butterfly.

Transfer this to your running. You choose a race. You choose a target time. You choose a training plan. You, ultimately, choose a moment in your life when you will be that butterfly! On race day you will perform better than you are capable of doing in training because as the caterpillar, you worked for, and gave everything for, this one moment of glory. Spedding states that his performances in non-key races were usually comparatively poor.

Edinburgh was not my day to become a butterfly. It was not a key race. It was a greedy attempt at achieving my target without the long period of pre-race build up which allows you to perform often beyond your own expectations.

Still, as Edinburgh are refusing to make the results public, please congratulate me on my time of 2:41:26 next time you see me!

Am I Obsessed?

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on April 16, 2014 by pacepusher

The fact that I am writing this by the pool during a week’s holiday in Mallorca perhaps answers the question above. Indeed, the fact that I blog about running at all is maybe evidence enough. However, my fear that I may be obsessed about running goes far deeper than this.

As I said, I am on Holiday… “Did you pack this case yourself, Sir?” Of course I did, that’s why it’s two thirds full of carefully selected running clothing in a range of colours (with matching accessories – what?) and a pair of running shoes. “Just one pair of running shoes?” I hear you cry. Well, I was of course wearing the second pair – not to mention the fact that I was carrying additional running kit in my hand luggage – just in case my suitcase was lost during the relatively simple passage across Europe. Not a change of normal clothes. Running kit!

Of course my reading material is all running related, Charlie Spedding’s autobiography, The Perfect Distance (Ovett & Coe’s rivalry) and Phil Hewitt’s The Highs & Lows of a Marathon Addict. The latter of which I finished yesterday. The last chapter was coincidently about his efforts at the Mallorca Marathon.

When I was messaged on Facebook by friend and club mate, Metronome Dave, regarding what he should be doing for recovery post London Marathon, I was able to message back a photograph of the relevant page from Pfitzinger’s Advanced Marathon schedule, which I had produced for my own benefit whilst away. Well, to bring the book would surely have been obsessive!

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Speaking of Metronome Dave and the London Marathon, I spent the first four hours or so of our first morning in Mallorca glued to the TV and to my phone following the race, more excited about the efforts of Club mates and friends on the excellent race tracker, than the overhyped efforts of Mo Farah on the TV. It was a fabulous morning, followed immediately by my first run of the holiday in glorious weather – weather I judged on its suitability for running, not for sunbathing as most would do in such an environment!

Obsessed? I’m starting to think so…

“He’s just glossing over what happened in Manchester by talking about obsession”.

Wrong, indeed The Greater Manchester Marathon is what fuels my thoughts. After 12 weeks of intense and undoubtedly obsessed training, I failed to break the magic three hour barrier. 3:02:36 was a PB by almost three minutes but not what I hoped for. I had said over dinner the night before, that I would be happy with a PB if all else failed. I believed it, but and it’s a big but, I had trained relentlessly through some of the foulest sunbathing weather imaginable to man to achieve a time beginning with a two, not a three.

The race didn’t go well from the start. Occasionally when I run, I’ll get sore shins, followed by pins and needles in my feet severe enough that I literally can’t feel the contact with the terra firma beneath. I’ve not had it for ages, but on race day it began with the gun and lasted for about the first seven miles. I always feel like I’m working a little bit harder than normal when it happens, and fact or fiction, the early pace felt tougher than expected.

I maintained sub three hour pace until about mile 15 when for no obvious reason my sciatica reared its ugly head and I began to run with a left sided limp. Normally running keeps the sciatica at bay, but apparently not on race day – not on this race day of all race days!

When I saw Mrs pacepusher and JK on mile 16 I wanted to cry. I wanted to stop. All that training for this, my sub three was now highly unlikely and my head had gone. Then friend and club mate Jason (also looking for a first sub-3) came past, trying to encourage me to go with him – I couldn’t and the knife was twisted inside me just a little more.

I had several mantras stored in my head for the latter stages of the race, but with 10 miles to go I began to need them – just to finish. I’d decided I wasn’t going home without a medal, so pushed on as best as I could. ‘Be your own hero’, ‘don’t be a coward’…

Strangely I could still see Jason ahead, and even more strangely he wasn’t getting away from me. I’d found a new rhythm, and although sub three was now unlikely, the three hour pacing group hadn’t come past me yet. I began to dig very deep from about 20 miles, repeating my newest mantra H.O.P.E. with each step… “Hold. On. Pain. Ends. Hold. On…” It helped build and increase my rhythm as the sciatic discomfort began to ease.

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Jason got closer. A good friend, I wanted to see him break sub three (almost) as much as I wanted to break it. Then I was right behind him, in my head I had us running the next five-ish miles together. The camaraderie seeing us cross the line together in a determined 2:59:59… as unlikely as it was, Jason then pulled up with cramp, unable to respond to the same rallying cry he’d given me about 5 miles ago. It wasn’t over and I kept working hard, constantly passing people (I passed 41 people in the last 6 miles) whilst frantically working out the sums in my head. I needed seven minute mile pace but I’d slowed to seven thirties.

I started to think that when the three hour pacers caught up, I could join the group and get the job done. But they stampeded through me before I’d even attempted to up my pace – it was gone. I wasn’t getting a sub three.

I remembered what I’d said the night before though, and spurred on by my new target of attaining a PB, I really dug in. With a mile to go, I (relatively speaking) put my foot down. It was the longest mile I have ever run and Old Trafford just wouldn’t get any closer. I passed more runners and kept fighting. The Marathon was going to win today, but not by much!

Finally I reached the finish area and broke into a seven minute mile sprint – with a shout of “all the way to the finish” from JK, I upped it to 6:59 pace! I’m glad I did, the finish photo shows a female runner close behind. Getting chicked on the line may have been the final straw!

I finished, possibly for the first time ever in a marathon, with an almighty fist pump. That, was one hell of a fight!

So why does all this fuel my thoughts on obsession? Well, the first thing I did on Monday morning (even before breakfast) was sign up for the Edinburgh Marathon – only seven weeks later.

Now this was not strictly speaking my idea. Indeed, I thought entries were closed. However, other people it would seem, understand the commitment and yes, obsession that had formed the basis of twelve weeks of training.

After I had passed on mile sixteen, Mrs pacepusher, supportive to the last as she always is (Thank you!) was busy on her phone. Knowing how much I’d put into the race, she was already checking the dates of upcoming marathons, trying to find me a ‘second chance’.

Metronome Dave, back home in Glasgow, had gone a step further, contacting the race organisers at the Edinburgh Marathon regarding ‘Good For Age’ entry. He didn’t contact myself and Jason until he had a ‘plan B’. These are people who understand the hurt, the dedication and yes, the obsessive nature that it takes to train for and run a marathon.

So, it’ll be “Go Team Giffnock North” on 25th May in Edinburgh as the three of us go once again into the ring for a bout with the marathon distance. This time though I think we have the upper hand.

“In the yellow and blue corner, weighing in with a superb 2:49:48 marathon PB. It’s Metrooonooome Daaaaaave!!!”

Not only did he plot this madness, but as the one out of the three of us who managed their first sub three hour marathon recently, he has valiantly vowed to do whatever he can to help get me and Jason a sub three hour time in Edinburgh. What a guy, and the only person I know that’s more obsessed than I am!!

Bring it on!

“I think you should be serious about what you do because this is it. This is the only life you’ve got”
Philip Seymour Hoffman

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…and so the taper begins.

Posted in Uncategorized on March 20, 2014 by pacepusher

You’ve just completed another 20 miler, rounding off a 70 mile week. It was a good run, you felt strong and it was 5 minutes faster than last week. You’ve had plenty to eat, rehydrated, stretched and relaxed. You’re exhausted, but happy with how your training’s progressing. That night however, you wake up at three in the morning and can’t get back to sleep. That’s the forth night in a row.

Your solution? Move on to the next week of your training schedule, an increase to 78 miles and a longest run of 22 miles. You’ll be exhausted, that’ll help with any sleep issues!

The following week, still not sleeping properly, you develop a heavy cold. You feel so bad first thing in the morning that you’re not sure you can get through the 9-5, yet you pack your running kit. By lunch, you convince yourself that you’re ok (you’re not) and do your run. The full session – 9 miles with 5 x 600 meter speed intervals. You wonder why your pace is a little slow.

That night you feel like you might die, you don’t sleep well and when the alarm finally goes off in the morning you’re wishing you HAD died. But you head off to the 9-5 once again with your running kit over your shoulder.

We all know that both of these issues are probably caused by overtraining. Taking a few well earned rest days may have helped with those sleepless nights and probably would have prevented you getting that Man-flu. Now that you’ve got that Man-flu though, you really should take at least one rest day…

…but do you?

As runners we hate to miss training. Not only do we love our sport, we also know how hard we have to work to achieve our goals – whatever they may be. But where do you draw the line? Will missing that one session really prevent you from achieving that goal?

Is it just us mere mortal amateur runners that can get it wrong though, or are the Elites capable of overtraining too?

Galen Rupp has posted some amazing times in the USA recently, breaking records with apparent ease before famously beginning mile rep sessions at pretty much race pace immediately afterwards. Everyone questioned the intensity and the recklessly obsessive search for improvement. Then at the World Indoors a couple of weeks ago, Rupp finished 4th. Impressive? Not really. He was never in the race at all and was beaten easily by 39 year old Bernard Lagat. Rupp was expected to challenge with Lagat for the Gold, but never even looked capable of Bronze. Was he overtrained? Well it’s only my opinion, but I thought that, unlike the Galen Rupp of London 2012, he looked ill, too skinny and quite frankly exhausted!

So will missing 2 days training due to being kept in hospital overnight and then told not to run until various test had been completed on my heart, stop me from achieving a sub 3hr Marathon – I hope not! Was the 90 miles I covered in the week that followed too much – again, I hope not, although it was perhaps a little foolish.

I suspect we all overtrain at times, and I’m sure we’re all guilty of running when we are ill, but injured? Yeah that too, as I said, we runners hate to miss any sessions. The fear of injury makes us ignore niggles, pulls, tears and even breaks in the hope that they’ll just go away – just keep running and brush them under the carpet, so to speak!

It’s no wonder then that as runners we hate the last part of our training schedules – the dreaded taper! It’s that time when we are supposed to run less, supposed to take rest days and supposed to believe that less is more!

For, let’s say, 15 weeks you have run everyday, petrified to take a day off or miss a session, determined to complete the training plan that will ultimately lead you to your Holy Grail. You’ve run through injury, run with Man-flu and suffered sleepless nights, yet now with race day within touching distance you’re supposed to start taking it easy… are you having a laugh? Surely I should squeeze in MORE miles not less, the race is in less than 3 weeks!

Now I’m not going to be able to sleep for worry that I’m not training enough, that I’m losing all my fitness and that I’m gaining weight. I’ll also get another dose of Man-flu – because that’s just how tapering works.

I hate the big bad T. It sucks! Yet I stick to it; I trust in it. Why then do I not heed the experts advice in the weeks before the taper, always convinced that I can’t rest, that I can’t miss a session, that I can’t sleep for some reason other than excessive running. In those weeks leading up to the taper, perhaps less may have been more, perhaps I will have overdone it; overtrained. I guess I’ll know the answer by the afternoon of April 6th. In the meantime ask Galen Rupp, or better still, ask Mo Farrah after he copied me and collapsed after the NYC Half Marathon for their thoughts.

Keep on running friends, but stay well!

Beep! Beep! & The Search for a Sub 3.

Posted in Uncategorized with tags on March 7, 2014 by pacepusher

My name is pacepusher and I am a road runner.

I suspect however, that 95% of people reading this are not road runners, and indeed, would probably suffer sleepless nights at the thought of running a city based marathon. If that’s you, thanks for reading past the first sentence!

For those that don’t know me too well, I have spent my time since around the summer of 2007 running on the trails, as often as possible and as far as possible. As things progressed, I would go on to tell you that my greatest achievement in sport was completing the West Highland Way Race (If you don’t know, that’s a 95 mile ultra marathon) in 18 hours and 42 minutes exactly in 2009. I would have happily chatted into the night about different types of kit, different types of fuel and the benefits of being out there in the wilderness as opposed to banging out miles on the less glamorous streets of Glasgow’s surrounding areas. I would have told you the joy was in the journey, not in arriving at the destination, or some similarly pretentious BS!

However, after suffering a pretty substantial set back in my running due to a couple of injuries which still haunt me to this day, I found myself restricted to running a maximum of 5km for a while – on the roads. I embraced this as a bonus – I was at least able to run – and discovered the joy that is parkrun. Although I am now running regularly over longer distances, I still partake in parkruns either as speed work, or as an opportunity for some quality family time – running with my Nephew or pushing my Niece around in her pushchair.

I have built up my mileage over time, and at the turn of this year I started to follow Pfitzinger’s Advanced Marathon 70-85 mile 12 week schedule (I did week one twice however, as I’m not very good with dates!). I have almost completed 8 weeks (well 9!) of this now and am finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel – The Greater Manchester Marathon.

So what’s the point of all this waffle? Well, and I don’t want to offend anyone, or cause long debates amongst friends – this is after all just my opinion, based on my experience – but it has occurred to me that trail/ultra running is a damn site easier than road/marathon running. There I said it!

On a recent 22 mile training run, I carried a small amount of water and a pack of Clif Shot Bloks. I did not carry my phone, a camera, or a small picnic! I did not take breaks to use my phone, to take photographs, or to eat my picnic – I just ran. I sipped water maybe three times, I choked on the Shot Bloks and they made me feel sick, but I still ran. It hurt, and when it did, I ran harder. It was not ‘about the journey’ it was about splits and getting used to the pain of running fast when you’re broken – even if you do come to a hill!

What started all this contemplating? Well the day before this 22 mile run, I ran on the West Highland Way. I ran from behind the Green Welly Stop in Tyndrum to the Bridge of Orchy checkpoint in just under 52 minutes. Not record breaking pace, but it wasn’t supposed to be. It was supposed to be an easy run. However, the truth is, it’s probably the fastest I have ever run that section, and yes I have done it as an independent run before rather than as part of a 30 plus miler. I am fitter and stronger now than I ever was during my ultra running days.

Further more, after looking at the magnificent snow covered mountains I was running towards, my mind returned to the terrain under foot, my pace, and how my body felt. The view was of no interest. I considered the forthcoming hills and terrain hoping that I wouldn’t be required to walk, rather than looking forward to the walk breaks. I am, as I said at the start, a road runner and my mind set has completely altered.

Most of you reading this will say (as I would have done previously), “but with road running you are just banging out the miles, waiting for it to be over.” I would not argue with this, but, as they say, it takes all sorts.

In the brilliant comedy series Father Ted, the house keeper Mrs Doyle, makes A LOT of tea;

“Will you have a cup of tea Father? – Ah go on.”

In one particular episode they buy her a Teasmaid to make her life easier. Mrs Doyle spends the whole episode trying to break it, before finally declaring in a somewhat demonic state,

“…but I love the misery of making the tea, Father!”

That’s me, only I love the misery of road running.

So now, if asked what my greatest achievement in sport is, I would not say my WHW Race time, nor would I say my 3:05.25 at the Loch Ness marathon last year. For now at least, my greatest achievement is completing the training schedule thus far. I have not missed a single session, I am constantly hungry and tired, early morning foot steps are tentative, and I live on the edge between healthy and injured (I currently await Mrs pacepusher’s arrival home to take me to A&E after collapsing whilst running this afternoon). 87 miles in a week is hard, before you even consider the types of sessions involved and the number of runs in the week, but I am loving it. Mrs pacepusher may argue this point, but despite my ‘occasional’ complaints, I really have been loving it, and feel that the high mileage works well for me.

I’ve sacrificed a few things, no booze, no running club sessions (I now run for Giffnock North incidentally) and a healthier diet – although the latter has proved impossible as I search for extra calories and some small pleasures away from the roads – the lethal combination of coffee & cake have become my drug of choice!

So, thanks trail/ultra running for the memories, for the great and supremely talented people I have met and had the pleasure to run with, for the increased endurance levels and mental toughness you’ve given me, for barefoot running shoes and for the polar opposite, Hoka One Ones. But for now at least, I’ll be sticking to my Bondi(S) and leaving my Stinson Evos to gather dust!

Keep on running friends, wherever and however you choose. As I said, it takes all sorts!

Beep! Beep!

The Cateran Trail Race

Posted in Uncategorized with tags on May 22, 2012 by pacepusher

We arrived at our B&B on the Friday night, and after a lot of chat from the owners we headed off to the hotel so I could register for the race. Much chat with friends, wine for Caroline, orange for me, then back to our B&B to sleep. The owners of the B&B were great, he is an ex RAF Wing Commander and his uniforms still hang in the hall. They were so quirky that I started to get random images of old TV show ‘Tales of the Unexpected’. I imagined going down for breakfast the next morning to find him in uniform at the head of the table eating one of the other guests’ heads whilst she smiled sweetly and served our breakfast! I needn’t have worried, her “I can’t get up that early” comment, resulted in an impressive spread of a continental breakfast… she clearly thought I’d need a hell of a lot of food before tackling the race!

So after breakfast we headed straight to Glenshee, arriving not long before the race briefing. Then the walk over to the start, and ready for the off! For the first time ever in an ultra, I stood there excited. No nerves, no I don’t want to do this today, just a calm sense of being glad to be back racing. I’d told Mrs pacepusher that for this race I would be more Sharon (the Gibbering Midget) than Thomas (the Crazy German), i.e. happy and positive! I’m normally stroppy and negative ( a lot like Thomas) at check points, but not today!

Karen gives a perfectly toned down start, “you ready? 3,2,1 Go!” and we’re off! It was a strong field, but Tim almost giving me a black eye with his elbow as we jostled for position from the start line seemed a little excessive!!!

I was running with John Malcolm and Lucy Colquhoun early on, but in true pacepusher style, I pushed on and was soon alone. I reached the first check point (5.7 miles) uneventfully, apart from falling over, in just over 49 minutes , about what I was expecting!

I now faced a long stretch on the road before a fairly long climb. If I take one thing from this race, it’s to stick to my game plan. I purposefully ran the race alone (only running with others briefly – unsociable I know, but I get caught up in other peoples runs, and I need to run my own race) and running hard when I planned to (even early on). And so, I legged it up the road, hitting 7 to 7:30 m/m pace throughout. Mrs p was concerned, but this was always my plan. I had a long uphill recovery followed by a glorious downhill sweeping woodland path to recover on. I love this section and I was soon at Kirkton of Glenisla (8.9 miles in 1:17.33) joking with Drama Queen that I hadn’t broken anything yet!! I was feeling good and loving the run. A quick refuel and I was off!

Actually, another thing to take from this race, is the importance of knowing the route as well as you can. I had covered the whole route in training, so I knew what was coming and when, I knew when to push, when to hold back and when to accept a long walk. This also allowed me to eat/drink/carry what I would need before and during each section.

At the top of the climb out of Glenisla, I got cramp in my right calf climbing over the stile. I NEVER get cramp… WTF! Only about 15 miles in too! I stretched it and I ran on… with firmly crossed fingers!!

John caught me up in this section, he was running superbly and we ran together and chatted for a while, but (sticking to the game plan) I let him push on and was alone again. Maybe I’d catch him again later, maybe not, but this was my run, with my goal to achieve.

I met Mrs p twice during this section which was great. She was amazing all day, said all the right things, and kept me moving quickly through the check points. I can’t thank her enough for her support and encouragement… I’m pleased I had a ‘Sharon’ day for her and was happy and positive throughout!

Lucy caught me just before the hill into Alyth but as she expected (“here he comes” she said), I passed her again on the downhill. I arrived in Alyth (now in road shoes after a quick change a few miles earlier) in 1:48.55 (11.2 miles).

After a walk to refuel with Mrs p, I was off and running again. A wave of sickness meant I started to walk just before the long climb, but not to worry, on I plodded. I know this section perhaps better than any other, and knew I didn’t like it much! I knew however that I liked it more than the next. I’d struggled to embrace much of the route during training runs, but today I was loving it. It is a great route, so varied, and in such perfect conditions, I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else!

I made it to Blairgowrie, where Santababy, the lollipop lady for the day, made sure I crossed the road safely, in 56 mins (5.45 miles). I made Mrs p work here, sending her back for my jacket whilst I kept walking! Sadly Lucy pulled out here, but on the plus side, I probably wouldn’t get beaten by a girl now ;-)

As I said, this is a tough section but again I didn’t mind it. I knew that once I got to Bridge of Cally I’d broken the back of the route. I ran as much as I could, and made the most of the decent into BoC. 6.8 miles in 1:17.24 and the route’s back was indeed broken!

The next section to Kirkmichael is one of the most beautiful on the route. However, boggy, sheep shitty fields, are not good for running on! I spat the dummy for the first time that day! I was annoyed, I was in shape to still be running well, but underfoot conditions didn’t allow it, I also fell again! I can safely say however that wearing road shoes was not the problem. Trail shoes would have been of no greater benefit as others confirmed post race. As I reached the end of the shitty bog crap, I saw John behind me. I was confused. I hadn’t passed him (turned out he’d missed a marker and had run about 2 extra miles). Back on the road/dry trail, I had strong words with myself! My energy and enthusiasm had been sapped and I needed to get them back! I got myself running again, and ran fairly well all the way to Kirkmichael… back in the game! (8.05 miles – 1:35.56)

I’d made myself a promise about the next section way before race day. There is about a mile (if that) of fabulous trail in this section. Woodland trail is by far my favourite running terrain, and I’d promised myself to enjoy it. I did just that, smashing out about 7-7:30 m/m pace through the forrest and beaming from ear to ear as I did so. Arriving in Enochdhu after covering 2.32 miles in just over 24 mins, I hoped I’d done enough to maintain my 9th place. Placings were not important to me, but a top 10 would be an added bonus!!

So off I head on the final section with the news that Mike Raffan is not far ahead… “I’ll never catch him” says I!

So, just after the farm, I see Mike. Eighth would be nice! I don’t push on too hard (stick to the plan), but I do have a little extra bounce in my step! I pass him eventually and he looks unimpressed by my “alright bud?” comment as I run past. I keep running as much as I can on the ascent, liking eighth place and the time I was heading for. Seeing John and another runner also catching Mike spurs me on again, I’m starting to tire though, and that cramp is seriously thinking about making a return visit! Not long to go, dig deep!

John catches me, I use him to pull me along for a while and we chat about his wrong turn. He ran so strongly all day though and he left me half way up a climb. Back to ninth (not bothered though, John’s a lovely guy and he deserves it after an extra 2 miles! Well done mate – superb run!), I’ll follow John and use him to get myself to the finish well under my dream time of sub 9.5 hours. I look back, another runner has passed Mike. I need to keep pushing. I do! Next thing I know, there’s a runner on my heels. Runners of Mike’s quality don’t give up that easily, and he passes me as we reach the start of the final climb.

The other runner, Phil Humphries catches me. We chat, we are both annoyed that we let Mike pass us. We are both exhausted! Phil just has a bit more on the lower part of the hill, and I’m down to 11th (back to focusing on my time!).

As I struggle very badly up the hill, my GPS tells me I’ve slowed to a pathetic 25 m/m pace. I’m beaten! I stop, hands on knees, look back. No rush, he can’t catch me. I think about my time and in my tiredness add 25 minutes to the time on my watch. 9:30 has gone. Gutted! I battle on to the summit where I check the GPS again. Time, 9 hours… 15. 15!?!? What? I see the hotel about 1.5 miles away. Game on. I can do this.

I ran so hard down that hill, constantly looking ahead at the distance and comparing it to the time remaining on my watch. 10th place is getting closer, over the stile, leg it, you can do this. You will do this! Through the gate and a sprint to the finish line. Another quarter mile and I might have made 10th but who cares, a finish time of 9 hours 27 mins, and mission accomplished! I am delighted! Sweaty hugs for Karen and Mrs p, a change of clothes and a pint of Stella! Happy as a pig in shit! (final section 5.92 miles – 1:13.12)

We watched a few people finish and got all the news from the sharp end of the race, then headed back to the (well I would say sanity, but…) B&B for showers. They are keen to hear all about it, so I tell them… a far shorter version than this!

Back to the hotel for food, more Stella and more finishers. The last of which we all head outside for. The legend that is Ray McCurdy is welcomed home like a hero!

Prize giving is great (although some Scottish Chelsea fan didn’t agree as the sound was turned down on the football!) and we all receive our race Quaichs. I thank Karen and tell her well done!

Chat, banter, booze and a lift home from a member of the hotel staff and I’m fast asleep in bed… very contentedly!

Next morning, Mrs B&B excels with breakfast, whilst Sir tells us some of the stories he already told us yesterday! It really was a great place to stay (Dalhenzean Lodge) and I jest about the owners. Their genuine concern in asking Caroline if she would be carrying her phone whilst she ran and I supported her for the morning was tester-mount to that! Great characters!

A huge thanks to Karen and all her team of helpers for a fabulous day! Karen, you all did a great job, you are slowly creating a very special race!

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