With that in mind, I have decided to make this distance my main focus for 2015 with a view to using a series of 10 mile races as a springboard for an Autumn half-marathon. This is easier said than done as there are actually very few opportunities to race this distance, particularly in the South West. Devon's one big 10 mile race, the Plymouth Hoe 10, was axed last year due to increasing difficulties in obtaining approval for road races at an affordable cost. Cornwall and Dorset don't seem to have such a problem with this, but in Devon, for some reason, good quality road races are few and far between and multi-terrain events, invariably licenced through ARC as opposed to UKA (now, there's another blog post in itself!) are taking their place. I have nothing against a good trail race – I love them! - but I would rather they were not at the expense of good quality road events. Choice and variety is a good thing!
I therefore jumped at the chance to run a new 10 mile race whilst on a Valentine's weekend mini-break in the New Forest. The Lytchett Manor 10 took place on February 14th and so I lovingly dragged an ever-tolerant Matt along as chief bag-holder, calmer-downerer and supporter, and left him hanging about in the cold for an hour whilst I raced 10 miles on an undulating route around the Dorset countryside: if that ain't love and devotion, I don't know what is!
My main concern for this race was that my left leg would hold up okay. February has become my “nemesis month”... well, one of two nemesis months, the other one being June. For the past two years, since February 2013, I have torn my left calf at clock-work intervals, every February and every June, four times in total. I was determined to get through this February without a repetition of that to reassure me that I am now on top of the problem and finally progressing again with my running. After forking out well over £1000 this past year on physios, podiatrists and on orthotics, I should bloody well hope to be!
The Lytchett 10 race was celebrating its 25th anniversary and, in order to mark it and try and assemble a really strong field, they invited all the previous male and female race winners back, offering them free entry to this year's event. I did not know this until after the race, and just as well, as it would have made me unnecessarily stressed about over doing things and getting caught up in racing all these other ladies when I should really be running my own race. It's totally ridiculous, but I have to admit to studying published entry lists prior to race day and pre-calculating my likely finish position based upon whose names appear on the list! Due to my chronic lack of self-confidence, my calculation is usually several places lower than where I eventually end up, but I still go through this tired routine before most races. That's why it's also nice to race out of the county, because you don't always know the other names and faces and so that takes the pressure off somewhat. And yes, I know it shouldn't always be about placings; it should be about racing yourself, racing the clock, and being satisfied with your own performance, etc etc, but I am ridiculously competitive and so it is hard to quash that racing mindset!
My aim for this race was to try and run a consistent effort that delivered me at the finish line in one piece, feeling as though I could go on for another couple of miles if I needed to. This meant allowing other women to go off if they started at a pace I didn't feel comfortable with, even if it meant that I may not be able to reel them back in later: easier said than done, remembering my competitive mentality! It was an impossible race to pace off the garmin as the hill profile was all over the place! Undulating would be a slight understatement; mildly hilly, with 700ft of climb over the 10 miles, would be a more fitting description. So I decided to base my run on perceived effort, and, with miles 1 – 5 being a constant uphill grind, that perceived effort level was mighty high and the pace, mighty slow in the first half of the race! I did, however, manage to work my way through the field, picking off several men and three women as I went. I was rapidly closing in on 2nd place in the last 2 miles, but just ran out of room and finished 3rd in a time of 65:25. This was only 1m20s slower than my PB, set on a much flatter course, so better than I could have hoped for considering I haven't been doing any form of speed work or even running any farther than 10 miles at a time in training. Onwards and upwards from here!
Upwards being a rather apt description, considering what I was about to face on my next ten mile race just one week later. This one was in fact a multi-terrain race, the Dalwood 3 Hills Challenge. It was one of the first races I ever did and my first ever race as an Exmouth Harrier, back in February 2011. I remember it well at the time as it was the first race that managed to reduce me to a walk in places! 3 hills doesn't sound much (and it is in fact 3.5 hills!), not compared to the 10 hills in 10 miles that the Full Montycute 10 boasts, but these hills are beasts! 1500Ft of climbing over the ten miles: half the height of Snowdon! The second two hills in particular go on and on and on.... or maybe they seem to be worse as you are knackered by then. This year some of the worst weather conditions I have had the displeasure to race in – freezing cold, driving rain, howling wind, swollen river levels etc – were thrown into the mix, and the race really did live up to its name of being a challenge.
It's a classic Axe Valley Runners low-key affair, in which the benign nature of the picturesque Devonshire village setting, with its snowdrop-framed village hall HQ, bursting at the seems with jolly locals offering you good priced tea, cakes and soup, beguiles an absolute brute of a course. Talk on the start line seemed to follow a common theme: “Last time I did this race I told myself never again. What am I doing here?” Mud, mud a plenty, combined with knee-deep puddles – some of which still had an icy crust on them that you had to break through as you ran – jagged rocky trails, and 4 river crossings make this race far from benign. Oh, and I also still had the lingering remnants of a cold I picked up the previous week to deal with. I know, I know, I said I wouldn't run in future with a cold, let alone race, let alone let alone (?) race a race like this in these wintry conditions. I knew it wasn't a great idea when, approximately half way in, I went to thank a marshall and all that emerged from my mouth was a pathetic squeak. From half way in, this race became something of a survival game. My hands were numb with the cold – I stupidly hadn't worn gloves – and were bright red and badly swollen; I made a good call to remove my precious engagement ring before the race as they were so swollen by the end, it would have likely been reducing my circulation. I dug in to finish as second lady but it was far from being one of my best performances. I finished it cold, wet, knackered, and talking with a croak. The cold I picked up on the weekend of the Lytchett race returned with a vengeance – surprise, surprise – and is till with me now, 5 weeks later. Herein surely lies a coded message: DO NOT RACE WHEN ILL.
4 miles into the Dalwood 3 Hills Challenge, still level with Helen at this point, but she went on to annihilate me in the second half of the race!
One of 4 ice cold river crossings at Dalwood.
My bling for finishing second: champagne, crystal champagne flutes with Swarawski crystals, and a trophy that I was told to have my photo taken with and then had straight back!
With that in the mind, and with the thought that I might quite like to be cough and snivel free this side of summer, I have decided not to run the third 10 mile race I had put in for, which is the Granite Way 10, due to take place this Sunday. Yes, it's annoying as it's a club championship race and it represented a rare opportunity locally to set a new 10 mile PB. Had I not been ill and in my present form, I estimate I would have run between 62:30 and 63 minutes; but, as I keep trying to tell myself, no one race is ever worth making yourself ill for. In myself I feel fine, and I can train, but pushing myself for an hour in a race whilst simultaneously coughing up half the contents of my lungs will do nothing to help my cause. There will be other 10 mile races and other opportunities to set PBs, but only if I am well. I am taking courage from the fact that I can actually be sensible and have seemingly learned not to fly in the face of age old wisdom by thinking that the rules of Joe Public just do not apply to me. This is progress; maybe not progress in the running performance sense, but that will follow later.... hopefully!
