Chester Half Marathon

I think I have pulled a muscle in my left buttock. 

This didn’t happen while I was running the Chester Half Marathon on this sweltering Sunday. Nor did it happen while I painted the back fence between 11am and 3pm during the zenith of the sun’s powers on a sizzling Saturday.

It happened while I was tucking into a chocolate and salted caramel brownie in the blessed shade of a Costa Coffee shop after the race today. As I got up to carry on the walk to John’s car, I could feel a definite difference between the left and right.

Aside from that little hiccup, my legs feel pretty okay. But then I wasn’t planning on chasing any PBs, unlike Raph, who had been following a training plan religiously for the past seventeen weeks. He picked me up at quarter to eight this morning while the weather was still cool enough to contemplate going for a long run. If the race had started at that time, we might have been okay.

In Chester he found a handy carpark, only a half mile from the racecourse, the start of the Half. People had been walking down in their kit from quite far out, so I was glad not to have to do any more unnecessary exercise than that. On the grassy fields there were thousands of runners and their well-wishers, but we couldn’t see any other Pensby vests despite the fact that over twenty of us had signed up for it.

Raph found his place in the crowd below the 1:50 estimated finishers. That was his goal today, to get below that time. I wished him luck and sauntered well behind the 2:20 people. I can do a bit more than this mileage, but thirteen miles currently takes me about two hours and forty to get to in a training run, as speed is not my aim right now.

There were still a fair few people behind me when I finally made it to the start line, at six minutes after nine; this race has over six thousand entrants. It meant that there were several moments in the first half when my rhythm broken by people either bunching together or stopping suddenly. Slightly annoying but as I said, I wasn’t out to break any records, so I went with it, and in the long run those people probably kept me from heading out too fast.

A mile or two in, a guy behind me called my name. I looked and I didn’t recognise him and he didn’t have a Pensby vest but he was from the club. Kevin said he’d joined the club last year because he liked doing the multi-terrain races. I then tried to lure him to joys of cross country. He didn’t seem too convinced by my efforts, but I’ll keep trying.  He said he was hoping for around 2:05 so I said good bye as he loped off easily past all the stop-starters and groups.

Every now and then, there were squares on the ground where the tarmac had been patched up. These patches were glistening though, as if they were beginning to melt. I tried to avoid stepping on them just in case and the one time I did, I didn’t leave a footprint, but it was just a bit more evidence of the weather in case I needed reminding. I was now kicking myself that I hadn’t brought any salt tablets to drop into my water bottles as they were handed out. I don’t sweat buckets, being a lady of the genteel variety, but I knew that I could wilt.

It was pure luck then that I found John on my travels, or at least I hoped that the bold man in the buff headband ahead of me was John. He had the right colour vest on but he was hugging the edges, wisely staying in the shade where it was available, instead of staying in the middle of the cambered roads. He was suffering from a bad chesty cough so was struggling a bit. I wasn’t sure that he should have been running at all, but I was glad he was because he had salt chews on him, and we spent the next few miles in pleasant conversation. In the end though, he needed to slow right down and told me to push on.

There were just a few miles left, and I was surprised, and pleased that I’d stayed ahead of the 2:30 pacers despite taking it easy. I had a few walking stints, especially at the beginning of that mile or so of incline to the finish line in the centre of the town. The crowds were vociferous though and plentiful at this stage, and they pulled me up the hill. Chester was absolutely teaming with people, and I put on my best sprint to the end just for them. I drank about three bottles of water straight down, while I waited for John to appear. 

Lots of the volunteers thanked me for opting to be a green runner, which meant I didn’t get a medal or a tee-shirt. My kit drawer at home is overflowing with tee-shirts so that wasn’t a problem. I get why you might want one if this is your first race, or a special race, but I like that some races now give you an opt-out from the bling. 

It was a shame that I didn’t get to see more of the Pensby posse. There was a brief wave to a couple of them at the point where the runners still going out were on the opposite side to the runners heading back, but it is such a large race that it’s not surprising. 

It was a scorchio day but I really did enjoy it, mainly because I wasn’t trying to get a particular time and just took it steady. I probably shouldn’t have opted to paint the fence the day before but maybe it acclimatised me. It’s a well organised race with plenty of water stations, several well-received hose pipes, and a slick routine at the finishing line too. The last time I ran it was eight years ago, but I may not leave it that long until next time.