Learning how to race, learning how to pace

It is hard to believe that we are already half way through November: autumn is whizzing by. The clocks have gone back, the temperature has dropped and winter is knocking at the door. I now have 4 long months of dark evenings and naff weather to get through before we emerge out the other side. I really dislike winter. Sure, in essence, it should be inspiring to a runner: making the first imprints on freshly fallen, white powder snow, but in reality, when do we ever get this type of picture-postcard winter in the UK? If snow does fall, it instantly turns to sheet ice and then to brown mush and is a death-trap in waiting, set to play havoc with a runner’s training schedule.  I’m definitely a sun and heat lover and enjoy training in warm, sunny conditions. Motivating myself to head out of the door after work when it is cold, damp and the light is rapidly diminishing is a real effort. My breathing is also much worse in winter with the cold air hitting my sensitive, sports asthma-riddled lungs, making racing and intense training a quite unpleasant wheeze-fest. Nope, you can keep winter thanks very much.

Autumn this year has once again been terrific from a racing point of view. As I said in my last post, I enjoy autumn, particularly off-road trail races, and I always seem to perform well at this time of the year. The past couple of months have definitely seen me make huge progress on the injury rehabilitation front and I am starting to regain confidence and to trust my useless excuse of a left leg a bit more.

If there is one positive thing to emerge from my injury experiences this year, it is that it has tempered down my gung-ho attitude to racing. Essentially, it has taught me to race more sensibly and to use my head more. Having to hold back more at the start and ease my leg into the run has highlighted two things: firstly, the race is a far more comfortable and pleasant experience as I don’t hit threshold by the end of the first mile and have to hang on from then forward, watching the mile splits gradually dropping off as I realise I have once again been too ambitions. Secondly, it has taught me that I can run negative splits and feel strong at the end, resulting in me running a faster time for the race overall. Well whaddya know?! I used to think that the only way to run fast times was to go out as hard as possible to “bank” time for later on. I now realise that, by running at my target pace from the start, my mile splits don’t then drop off and I even have something left to pick up the pace in the last couple of miles and run faster than expected. I have been pleasantly surprised this autumn that, by adopting this more measured approach, I have run course PBs on the Powderham 10k, the Parrett Trail Relays, the Tavy 7 and the Templer 10, despite feeling that I am less fit than last year and having done no where near the same volume of training. It’s an encouraging sign.

Tavy 7 (C) Charles Whitton

(C) Charles Whitton

So I'm finally learning how to pace, but also how to race. There is a big difference between time-trialling a race and racing a race. The former has usually been my approach of choice, whereby you go out hard and try to defend the position you fall into from the start by hanging on as long as possible. This strategy has inevitably seen me do a lot of front running from the gun. I used to think I performed better and ran faster by doing this, as you run scared the whole way which pushes you onwards, but now I am not so sure. In the Tavy 7, the very talented veteran athlete, Ann Luke, came past me in the opening mile and so I decided to sit on her shoulder and see what happened. I found that I ran a much more relaxed race as I had my opposition in my sights and could cover any moves straightaway. Despite her age – she’s 26 years my senior! – Ann is an amazing athlete and to be respected. She started to pull away from me on the downhill stretches as her downhill leg speed was much faster than mine. Usually in this situation I would start to think negatively, resign myself to the fact that she was gone and turn my attentions to defending second, and duly start glancing over my shoulder to check that that place wasn’t under threat. Today though, I felt confident and was determined that I wasn't giving the victory up without a fight. I knew that I am strong on hills and it was a predominantly uphill finish. If I could just limit the damage and keep Ann within my sights then maybe I could claw her back on the climb at mile 5. Sure enough, by mile 6 I had drawn level. The last mile was tough – it was uphill and into a strong headwind. This race is run on a very exposed moorland course and the timing of the event this year, to coincide with the worst Atlantic storm to hit the U.K. this year, only made conditions even tougher. I bided my time and tucked in behind Ann and a male athlete, knowing that if I pushed too soon, the headwind would zap all my energy. As we approached the 500m to go sign, I saw Matt, my boyfriend, stood on the corner, cheering me on. That was the boost I needed to make my move. At 400m to go there is a left turn, out of the wind, but up a steep climb. I pushed hard up the climb and managed to put a good 50m between myself and Ann, and then sprinted down the final field for the finish line. The icing on the cake was that Rob Orton, my team mate, had also won the men’s race, so we’d done the double, and won the ladies’ team prize to boot. A victory is always special to me, in any circumstance, particularly so when it is against a formidable opponent such as Ann, but a victory shared with club mates is extra special.

A bonus victory for me these days is to come off a race totally niggle free. The Tavy 7 was the furthest I have raced on tarmac (usually more aggravating to my achillies than off-road surfaces) since my injury in February and so I was nervous, but it held up fine. One day of rest later and I was able to do a fartlek session on the Tuesday with no after-effects. Progress: at long last!

One week later and it was time for one of my favourite races: the Templer 10. I think the title of the race was selected more for its alliterative properties than for numerical accuracy, as the race in fact measures in at around 9.5 miles, but it sure packs a lot into those 9.5 miles. The route takes you along country lanes, fields and woodland tracks, around a country park and a lake, and through a nature reserve. It’s multi-terrain in every sense! A quick scan around the assembled company at the start and I guessed that my own club mate, Cathy, would be my closest rival. We set off together and I deliberately tried to hold myself back, planning to conserve energy for later, as this was to by my second longest race since February and so I wanted to be sure I didn’t crash and burn in the latter stages! The first 2.5 miles of this race are flat and on road, so it’s very easy to go off too fast. Comparing my mile splits to last year, I was 50 seconds slower over these opening miles this year and yet I went on to produce my fastest time on the course by the end of the race: further proof that sensible pacing pays off! I remember coming along the river bank in the last half mile of the race and, again, seeing Matt waiting there to spur me on, and feeling so strong. I knew the finish approach well by now, this being my third time of running the race, so I knew where to push on and I had already kicked it up a gear some way back. I ran past Matt beaming like a Cheshire cat and finding enough puff to tell him that I felt great. I knew with a mile to go that I was on target to beat my previous best time on the course but I had not quite calculated that I was going to beat it by almost 3 minutes. That was really unexpected, given that my long training runs at the moment are no longer than 10 miles, so I was pleased to find that my legs haven’t forgotten how to keep a pace up for that distance! Also unexpected was that we managed an unprecedented 1, 2, 3 in the ladies race, with Cathy and Hannah finishing 2nd and 3rd behind me. Another team prize for the Harriers ladies resulted :-)

Start of the Templer 10 at the Passage House Hotel, Kingsteignton

Having fun at the 6 mile point of the Templer 10 race

The only thing that hasn’t worked out this autumn is my plan to really target the Westward League cross-country. Once again, this plan will have to be shelved for yet another year. The first round, in Redruth, came the day after the Parrett Trail Relays. Despite my plan to conserve energy for the cross-country by “jogging” around the 8.7m leg 6 of the relay that I was running, I ended up having stiff competition on my tail from a Yeovil runner, so had to put more effort in that I would have liked. The next morning I woke up and put my running kit on and went out of the door to test my legs. There was no pain from my achillies but my calves were tight. Matt said to play it safe and not to run, my Mum thought that I was being over cautious and the injury had made me nervous and I’d be fine. Either could have been right, but I decided not to run. No one race is worth setting my recovery back by months and yes, I may be being overly cautious, but I’d rather that than have to go through the 4 long month injury-recovery cycle again for the third time this year! You can drop one of the six rounds, so technically, if I did all the others, I could still manage the series, but the Newquay round was sandwiched in between 4 other races and I’m trying to limit my racing at the moment. I definitely race better when I race less and I can also fit better quality training in when I am not spending 4 out of the 7 days a week recovering from and tapering off for races. I will do the next round as it’s in Exeter and is the Devon County Championships, but the rounds after Christmas I’m not sure about. Much as I want to help out the Harriers’ ladies team, they will interfere with my Grizzly training, which has to be my priority in the New Year.

My other plans? Well, I have a few up my sleeve. I have finally managed to choose between the First Chance 10k and the South West Inter-counties Cross-Country Championships which, very annoyingly, are both on the same day on January 5^th. Whilst I am desperate for a coveted sub 38 minute 10k, the possibility of being able to don a Devon vest and represent my county is too good an opportunity to pass up, particularly after being selected last year and being forced to withdraw due to injury. As regards the matter of the 10k PB, which is fast becoming a millstone around my neck, I have a few ideas up my sleeve. I’m not going to publicise them though, as each time I do that, things seem to conspire to prevent it from happening! Needless to say, if it comes off, you’ll be able to read about it here first! If it doesn’t come off, you’ll still be able to read it here, but it will be more of a moan-fest in this latter case!