Running

Aintree 10K

I haven’t posted for a couple of weeks as the charger of my laptop gave up the ghost. I had to go into the Apple shop in Liverpool to choose between buying one off-the-shelf for a lot of money, or getting talked at by an engineer who checked and verified that my charger was indeed broke before giving me one for slightly less money. I don’t get it either.

So, today, instead of being all luvvy-dovey and romantic for only day in the entire calendar, I’m writing a blog about my race yesterday. But don’t worry, there’s a nice pot of tea brewing and Anne’s picking up the Fish ‘n’ Chips soon.

A very un-centred picture of the eventual race medal

Because the cost of entering official races are often so extortionate these days I only justify it if I’m working towards a Half Marathon. Yesterday’s Aintree 10K was a freebie, courtesy of a win in the lucky dip at the Pensby Runners Christmas party – I also probably won a dose of Covid at that do, but that’s another story!

 I haven’t done a 10K race in a long while and I wasn’t sure how I’d do. When I do 6 miles in training it can take 1 hour 10, sometimes 1 hour 15. So between 11 and 12 minute miles. There never seems much more in the tank when I’m done so I didn’t expect to go much faster in the race, but a teeny bit of me hoped to get close to 1 hour 5.

I’ve never actually been to the race course here, and it wasn’t exactly a day that showed it off to its finest. A dreary, damp and windy Sunday morning, and I could think of better ways I could be spending my time than going there. But I put my big girl’s pants on and didn’t wimp out, and got to the place just after the Half Marathon people had set off.

I’m very glad I didn’t opt for the Half Marathon place. Partly because I’ve not been further than 7 miles for ages, and partly because the course was 5K loops around the race course. For the Half you needed to go round at least 4 times which looked a bit soul-destroying and the scenery ain’t all that. I caught up with Mike later, a fellow Pensby runner who had done it. But he was a pro, and said he just got his head down and got it done. I could do with a bit of that mentality sometimes!

Mine was 2 laps, and the saving grace was that the course was fairly flat. Because I had got there early enough, I decided to do something that I almost never do before, in a race. I warmed up properly. I started jogging around. A little bit self-consciously at first ( only other people doing that were way more athletically built) then with a little more oomph. After ten minutes I stopped and was about to have a rest when the organisers gathered everyone round to do a few minutes of on-the-spot drills. Star jumps, fast feet etc.

Well that wore me right out, but perhaps it didn’t, because my final time was 1 hour 3 minutes which was more than I hoped. And to be honest, if it wasn’t so windy I might have even gone faster, so I was very pleased.

I have some friends doing another 10K at the beginning of May, and I’m tempted to join them. This run was definitely a nice confidence boost, and has shown me that all those slow runs are adding up to the occasional speedy one, and it pays to warm up.

Running

A Real Race

I had a little boost to my running mojo this week when I booked our hotel in Edinburgh for this September. The Scottish Half Marathon, which got cancelled last year, will be my first race in nearly 2 years!

Edinburgh castle from lower down the hill.
Edinburgh castle in a cloudless day, as it will be in September! –
Image by Walkerssk from Pixabay 

I know it’s absolutely ages away but still, a shining beacon of hope, no? After these crazy unprecedented times, I have possibly, hopefully, maybe got a little something to work towards again.

The irony is, that before this big world shut-down (or at least the shut-down of those parts of the world that were particularly pants at dealing with the virus), I was getting a little disaffected by the big races. They were expensive, busy, created ten ton of rubbish and were getting more and more corporate.

But having had nothing for so long, I am ready to mingle with the multitudes at the starting line again.

Metaphorically that is. The reality is I’m normally standing more than 500 metres back with the rest of the tortoises making way for the hares and the gazelles to speed away while we shuffle forward a bit at time, until we finally actually make it to the front. We’re knackered before we’ve even begun!

That, however, is beside the point. I will enjoy it all. The queues for the portaloos; the fiddling with the safety pins (for the number bibs); the standing around and interminable waiting before the start; the faint waft of Deep Heat mixed with varying levels of anxiety.

And of course the excitement. The culmination (if you’ve not been a lazy arse) of the hard work and training you’ve put in, ready to be put to the test. The knowledge that you and several thousand other people are collectively committing to this endeavour. It sometimes, in rare moments of softness, brings a lump to my throat.

I have been on so many runs where I have randomly chatted to lovely people along the way (once your breathing settles, it is possible to say a few words without gasping) and sometimes someone has pulled me psychologically to the finishing line when I’ve felt I can’t go on. Once, I even managed to pay it forward with another random stranger.

Then, crossing that line and knowing you’ve made it in hopefully a time that you’re happy with, or at least knowing that you’re done and you get to have a beer soon is wonderful. The nerves, and the anticipation is over and you can relax for just a little while.

All this and much more is why I just cannot wait for September.