Cashing The Cheque

The problem with setting targets – especially when you then begin to broadcast them – is that there comes a point when your body has to cash the cheques your ego has been writing.  For me that day came at the Boston (UK) Marathon. 

The race starts in Boston’s market square before passing the finish line and out of the town and into the countryside.  The first few kilometres were just about trying to find whatever rhythm I could while the field thinned out.  By around the 5 km mark the race had thinned into clumps of runners and I found myself with another runner from ‘somewhere or other’ Spartans running club (I didn’t even catch her name, but I think her running vest had Ruth on the front).  At this point we were running at around 4 minute 45 second kilometres, which is a bit quicker than target pace, but it felt very comfortable and having never run very far on the flat I didn’t really know what pace was sustainable so I decide to just go with it. The race route is unbelievably flat – as advertised – and I can honestly say that the only gradients that I noticed were a pair of bridges over Hobhole Drain.  Out of Boston the route take us through field after field of arable farm land – some fields big enough to be considered counties in their own right.  Despite most of the route being rural, the support from the side of the road was brilliant.  Even as the race began to stretch out there was always a chirpy spectator, marshal or water station to shout (encouragement) at you. 

I run through 10 km, and then 15 km still holding the same pace and still feeling comfortable, it’s somewhere around this point that I separate from my run buddy as she appears to need to drop her pace a little (I accept it is unlikely she will read this, but I hope you got your GFA time).  I try to carry on at the same pace without trying too hard.   

As the morning mist finally began to lift the never ending horizon of this part of the world began to show itself.  I have lived in Devon for over 15 years now, but spent 6 years before that in Suffolk and I thought that was flat before I arrived in Lincolnshire.  I’m still not entirely sure if the Lincolnshire horizon is where the sky meets the ground or just where my eyesight is beginning to fail. 

As I pass the 20 km mark I begin to start doing some time extrapolations along the lines of “if I carry on at this pace I’ll finish in…” and so on.  Now this is all well and good while the going is good – and it was good up to and just passed the 30 km mark but it can come back to haunt you if you find yourself locked away in the hurt box. 

All the way to 30 kilometres all had felt reasonably comfortable, but soon after it became decidedly uncomfortable.   I began to feel my pace dropping, not too much at first but it definitely began to feel more of an effort as I passed from the distances I had run in training and the fatigue began to bite.  By the time I got to 35 km my quads were screaming and my pace had disintegrated.  Every time my feet hit the ground 10,000 volts of electricity was sent straight to my quads.  Anything more than a survivor’s shuffle felt impossible. The only thing that kept me running was the guy about 20 to 30 metres in front of me.   Although I felt like I was hardly moving, he wasn’t pulling away from me, so I just concentrated on keeping him in sight, and slowly (emphasis on slowly) I began to try and reel him in.  Now, I’m aware that this makes me seem like a bit of a wanker but it wasn’t about beating the guy in front it was just about getting everything I could out of myself.  I just had to keep telling myself that I only had to run another 3 miles, then another 4 km and so on.  Mentally I think this 5 km was the hardest thing I think I have done, stopping myself from chucking in the towel and walking.  I’m not sure I was exactly running in the truest sense, but I didn’t give in and walk. 

As the route takes me back into Boston I began to feel better.  Not so much physically, but mentally I feel a boost.  The finish was almost in sight.  As the finish draws closer I have never been happier to see a row of road cones as they funnel runners to the right hand side of the road.  I begin to pick up the pace again, trying to hide the last four miles of dark suffering from the runners who have already finished and the spectators giving up their Sunday morning to cheer us on.  I round the final corner and across the finish line.  No celebrations and certainly no dabs.  Barely even a smile through gritted teeth. 

Reflecting on the training, I felt that it had gone reasonable well.  I followed the same training plan I had for my only other marathon, at the Eden Project.  This time however, I tried to include more hilly runs, and more off-road running to help mix up the training and to vary the load on the body.  The biggest advantage I had this time was an actual proper running watch.  While training for the Eden Marathon I had to track my runs using my Garmin Edge bike computer in my pocket.  This was fine in the most part where I just wanted to run for a certain time at an easy pace or a tempo block. The issues came when I needed to do specific efforts and distances. This time I just needed to program it into the watch and it would beep, bing or vibrate whenever I needed to change it up.   

The one thing I don’t think I trained well for at all, nor am I sure how to train for, is pacing.  I get the feeling that you can only learn to pace a marathon properly is by running more marathons, but after feeling like I was comfortable for over 30 kilometres I was in the suffer box with my guts beginning to protest and my quads shot.  I haven’t got the pacing aspect dialled in yet, but if I am going to be able to push on and find how fast I can go I need to find out how to manage the race better – but then maybe nobody can pace a marathon and you just learn to suffer better.  That’s not to say I am disappointed with my time, but I would like to be able to finish a marathon feeling that everything went as well as I could have hoped.  I think that’s the marathon dream. 

So that brings me back to time.  I set out targeting a sub 3 hour 30 minute finish time, and if I was offered this before I started I would have bitten your hand off at the shoulder. I got in under that, at 3 hours 28 minutes and 56 seconds (knocking over 30 minutes off my PB), and while I am pleased with the time, it also leaves me with a tinge of disappointment.  This is mostly due to the way that the wheels came off towards the end.  I don’t know if it was just I went off too strong, or the unfamiliar terrain – running on the flat is harder than I thought it would be – but I didn’t anticipate my legs objecting in the way they did.  Fatigue yes, but an actual revolt was not a part of the mental preparation, but this hasn’t put me off marathons so I guess I will have more chances to perfect the art. 

On a personal note, I would very much like to thank my wife for spending the better part of 2 days to travel half the length of the country to watch me run away and then run back a long time later, and also to my parents for performing grandchild sitting duties and the biggest (and best) roast dinner upon our return. 

Picture Credit: Pictures 3 and 4 taken by Market House Photography Group (http://mhpgls.wixsite.com/mhpg) 

The marathon, man

As the dust settles, and the aches begin to ebb away I have begun to reflect on my first venture into the world of marathons.

Firstly, the race itself.  The route is described as a challenging, multi terrain route through the heart of Cornwall’s spectacular mining heritage and beautiful countryside – and I certainly wouldn’t argue with that.  The race starts in one of the car parks for The Eden Project and heads out the main entrance and down into St Blazey.  The first 3km are all downhill, so while being a good warm up it also makes early pacing a bit of a guessing game.  Reaching St Blazey the route leaves the road for the first stint on off road running through some woods, coming out near Luxulyan and the first proper climb of the day, about 7 km into the race.  I remember this climb from the half, which I did 4 years ago, and it’s still a rough little climb with amazing views out over Cornwall.  As we reach the village we bare right for a nasty little decent before another longer climb.  At this point I am feeling good and I cover the first 10km in 53 minutes 44, which is pretty much bang on a 3 hour 45 minute pace.  I continue on the road for a while as the route undulates around Cornish back roads.  Running alone, I try to tag on to groups of other runners to help with the pacing.

I find a small group of club runners who are going at a comfortable pace, so I jump onto the back.  We reach the Marathon/Half split, heading off to the right and before too long we are off road again heading towards Helman Tor, which I had missed from the race info until the race start.  We head up a narrow, wooded path coming out onto another track with Helman Tor looking dominant over us to the right, after about half a km it’s another right, over a stile and every runner for themselves as we find our way up to the top of the tor.  To my relief it’s not half as bad as it looked, I get to the top having passed a good number of people electing to walk it.  I gasp for some fresh Cornish air, let a proper looking runner pass me, and then off back down the tor I go. I truly dislike running down steep stuff, even on the tarmac.  I feel a little frustrated by my lack of descending ability and try to follow the line of the proper looking runner and seem to get a flow going.  My Garmin buzzes, second 10km done in 54 minutes 28, so the pace is still good.  Once down off the tor the route continued between two huge hedgerows for a while making it feel a little bit claustrophobic, before opening out for a bit until we reach another stile.  Over I go, and back onto the road.  Up some more, then up again – even the downhill now begins to feel like climbing.

Passing through a gate and back into woodland, and in to the most technical part of the race.  This part of the race truly is beautiful, with amazing vistas across the valley and autumnal colours.  However, I can’t really concentrate on that, as I am trying not to fall over tree roots or smash my face on low branches. After about 15 minutes of jumping fallen trees, ducking low level flora and trying to spot roots in the leaf litter, I get to some savagely steep switch backs.  This steep, rooty, rocky, knee popping downhill gradient brings me out at a nice tranquil leat, it’s at this point that I can enjoy the surroundings, the footing is mostly sure on a good quality path; I could almost forget I am running in a marathon.  Almost.

Reality strikes back as I leave the peace and serenity of the woods and return to the road, and I think that I recognise it.  It’s then confirmed by the 4 mile half marathon marker.  I am just outside Luxulyan again.  No sooner had I realised this I was going up the first climb of the day, again.  This time it was much slower and felt steeper.  Mentally this is where it got tough.  With a relatively small number of entrants I spent a lot of time running alone.  This in itself isn’t an issue, I do all my training solo, but when it gets tough – and then really tough – it’s nice to have someone to help you along, even if it’s just someone to try and chase.  It feels like it takes forever to reach the point where the marathon splits away on the first lap.  Before I get to the junction, my watch buzzes again with the third 10km split, and I have slowed to 58 minutes 32. Not too concerned, it’s still good for a sub 4 hour marathon, I try to push on.

Most of the next 10 km is a blur of tarmac, shoes and gravel tracks.  There seemed to be about 5 or 6 people within about a minute or so of each other, but due to the twists and turns you couldn’t see them until either you passed them while they walk a section or vice versa.  At this point I now have to walk sections of hills, but still seem able to keep up an ok pace while I’m running.  Two people in particular stand out from this part of the race a guy in a marines/navy running vest and a bloke from a local running club.  We passed and repassed each other for about 5 km offering encouragement to each other every time we do, and this really helps me to dig deeper as I hurt in all sorts of places.   Finally, as I get into the grounds of the Eden Project the final 10 km split comes up, 1 hour 2 minutes! Sub four hours is going to be touch and go now.  It’s downhill all the way to the finish now, with the exception of one very small climb – which I remember because I was mightily annoyed with myself for having to walk it.  It hurts, I feign a smile as people cheer us on, and I try to give cheery replies as kids shout encouragement, but it’s nearly over.  I hear the finish line a couple of switchbacks down calling out finishers names. It’s all but over. Last switchback and across the line.

Finished, Eden Marathon, done.  I stop my watch and check the time; 4 hours and odd seconds.  I think I’m pleased with that, but at the moment I just need to sit down.

https://www.strava.com/activities/416005740/embed/3b22531677ad48f6d16f7b9fb1d2d5d0d06a4516

Finishing Times:
Gun Time:  4:00:29
Chip Time:  4:00:16
Garmin Time:  3:57:52 (with auto pause)
Finishing Position: 57/200 finishers

I have also been considering the training I have done to be ready for this.  There are defiantly areas in which I could have improved.  I followed a generic structured plan from Strava, and feel that it covered all the usual bases well.  What I feel I needed to do however, is tweak it so that it had more hill work.  I genuinely feel that I could have improved my time if I had done more hills.  That’s not just hill repetitions, but also hillier tempo and long runs.  Basically, what I think I failed to do was look at what was a carefully structured and varied plan and assess its suitability to my race needs.  In hindsight I could have swapped some, not all, tempo work for hill work, and added a few extra hills – but not necessarily more distance – to the weekend’s long runs.  I think this would have added more physical and mental resilience as the hills mounted up towards the back end of the marathon.

One area where I really feel that I let myself down was my nutrition plan.  I had initially planned to use 5 gels over the course of the race (10km,20km, 30km, 35km and one extra emergency gel), but after reading the race info pack I decided to change this to 3 gels.  I made this decision as the water stations where I planned to use 3 of the gels had energy drinks as well as water.  I used this rationale that I wouldn’t need a gel for those points in the race and decided instead to use gels at 15, 25 and 35km.  I may have still been light on gels with 5, but 3 was woefully inadequate for my personal needs.

In the days after the marathon I was asked a few times by friends if I would do another and initially I was unsure, that then became “Yes, but maybe not this one”, and now I think I will be back.  It may not be my next marathon, but it will be revisited.  Increasingly two things bother me about this race.  Not the organisation or the route, but personal things.  One is time, but more specifically 16 seconds of time.  I know I can go under 4 hours, I am positive I can.  Even on this route I can see where that time and more could be saved. The other is my GPS track. It measured my run as 130m short, and that sort of thing bothers me.  As petty as it sounds I want a marathon PB on my Strava page.