Hallelujah

After one of the most atrocious summers in recorded history as far as the weather went, it suddenly turned bright, sunny and very warm about a week ago. Everyone in southern Ireland was very pleased, including me – until yesterday, when I belatedly realised that I would have to race in those rather hot conditions, totally unprepared. The weather forecast for Sunday was 22C/72F, and while that won’t sound impressive to the vast majority of readers, for Ireland in September that’s almost unheard of. Since I do my entire running in the early morning, I definitely haven’t been running at more than 15C/60F, and the difference is telling. Needless to say, I was apprehensive.

When I got the race details sent to me, I thought that 5 water stations for a half marathon would be complete overkill, but with those temperatures that was definitely a wise decision by the organisers. As it turned out, I was gasping for water towards the second half of the race, and the stations couldn’t come soon enough. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Lets start at the beginning.

With the fine weather we decided to make a family day out of the occasion, and at 8 am all five-and-three-quarter of us piled into our car and set off towards County Cork. It was extremely foggy for the first half hour, and Niamh drove slowly and carefully, and I was glad that we had left in plenty of time. It took us about 2 hours to get to Blarney, and I still had nearly an hour until race start. I kissed Niamh and the kids good-bye, and they went off for breakfast and a playground, but Niamh promised to be there at the finish line, and this time should would make sure to be there in time to see me coming in. I started warming up with about 20 minutes to go, and by 11 o’clock we were all assembled at the line. I had hoped to bump into Grellan at some stage, and made a nuisance of myself by asking two or three complete strangers if their name happened to be Grellan if they looked a bit like the photo in his profile (i.e. bearded and in his 40s). The answer was always negative, and eventually I gave up.

The gun went, and we set off. I started close to the front, and in the first minute I went past 2 people and got overtaken by about 20. It was the least amount of jostling I had ever encountered at the beginning of a race, and I settled into a fast but relaxed pace early on. The course is a kind of lollipop shape, 5 miles out, a loop of 4 miles and 4 miles back towards Blarney, with the finish being about 1 mile out from the start. I remembered two things from last year. First, there is plenty of shade along the way, which I was immensely grateful for today, and second, the course relentlessly climbs for 7 miles and then drops back down for the remaining six, which was somewhat less endearing. I thought the climb would be very gradual and gentle, but it felt a lot tougher than that today. The first mile passed by in 6:40, which was exactly what I was looking for. I felt totally in control, and the fact that I had just run 1 uphill mile at an unaccustomed pace had not yet registered. A big pack had formed and I was part of it, but it lost contact with the runners ahead, and since I felt that I could run a tad faster I left the group behind me and chased after the people in front, which I had reeled in before mile 2 (6:39). Maybe I had slightly overestimated my capabilities or maybe the climb got a bit more pronounced, but on the third mile the going got tougher, I felt slightly out of breath and three runners went past me. A split of 6:52 confirmed the problems, but by then I had regained my strength, went past those guys to regain my old position and went through the next mile in 6:46. My PR for the half had been 1:29:57, 6:51 pace, and I was well ahead of target, especially considering that the road was still climbing. However, at that stage my calves started protesting about the relentless chase, and the running got more difficult. I missed the next mile marker, but I could tell that I had definitely slowed down again. Around that time we went round a bend and the climb got considerably steeper. It was at that point that first a group of 6 men ran past me, and I could hear more footsteps approaching from behind. Just as they were closing in on me a spectator shouted “well done girls”, which snapped me out of my thoughts back into reality and realised that I was being sandwiched by two women, one passing me on the left, the other one on the right. Before I could recover from the shock, yet another one went past. I had gotten chicked three times in one minute! I tell you what, as polite and friendly as I usually am, a tired male with a wounded ego throws off the thin veneer of civilisation in an instant, and with all the subtlety of a caveman with a four-foot club all I could think was “at least I’ll have some prey to chase in the second half of the race!”, and I didn’t give two hoots about the fact that this was sexist in the extreme. Ahem.

Anyway, shortly afterwards we reached mile 6 (14:41 for the last 2), and my cushion towards my PR had melted away, not that I was worried. The climb would soon be at an end. By now we had reached the only real hill of the course, and the going had gotten tough. But unlike the previous miles I actually started overtaking runners again on that part, not the women, but the guys from the group that had passed me just before. I was seriously sick of the relentless climb by now, and when we finally crested the monster I loudly proclaimed “Hallelujah!” The guys around me inquired if that meant the end of the climb, which I confirmed, before leaving them in the dust and set off after my prey. The next mile marker came into view surprisingly early in 6:32, which was great, considering that the first part of that mile had included the steepest part of the entire course. I went passed one of the women, which was pure tonic for my wounded male ego, but I couldn’t even see the other two. The thing is, I’m rather short-sighted, and I was wearing shades for that race (the sun required it, really), which meant I couldn’t really see who was ahead of me until I was within a few steps of them. I really pressed the pace now, and while I overtook a lot of runners, they were all male, and I was still chasing. The next miles all flew by in 6:27, 6:25 and 6:27. I must have improved my position in the field by at lease a dozen places along that stretch towards mile 10, but while I knew that the road must be downhill, it didn’t feel that way. I remembered the same from last year. On the way out it felt like climbing without a single step of respite, on the way home it felt like running on even ground. Passing through mile 10 in 1:07 (plus change) was good, but I really started to feel it by now, and the thought of the end was sweet. I heard footsteps approaching for a minute or two, and naturally assumed it was one of the runners I had just overtaken, but was surprised to see an older gentleman (let’s guess about 50) going past me as if I was standing still. Now I was being oldied? I kept learning things about myself today. Not only am I sexist, I’m ageist as well. That guy was unbelievable though; the pace with which he went past me was something else. I did question why it had taken him 10 miles to catch up if he could run so fast. I felt a tinge of regret of losing a hard-fought place in the field, and that's when I thought of Mike’s recent race report. He’d had a very decent race but was annoyed that he hadn’t kept up with people he is capable of beating. In my comment I had stated the hope of having the kind of race he had wished for (albeit a lot slower, of course). This pushed me into action. That man was running a lot faster than what I thought I was capable of, but with less than 3 miles remaining, what’s the worst that could happen? I was hardly going to collapse before the end, and with that in mind I went into the red zone and gave chase. At the very least I managed to keep the distance between us constant, and while the next mile marker passed slower rather than faster than the previous ones (6:33), it wasn’t for lack of effort. I think the course had flattened out again a bit, and of course I was getting more and more tired. I kept pushing hard, and tried to get closer to the man in front. We went past a number of runners, and none of them tried to keep up with us, but I could not close in. I did expect to see one or both of those women again that had stung me at mile 5.5, but none of them showed up on my radar screen. To be honest, at that stage I didn’t care. I just tried to give as much as I could, and I tried to overtake my rabbit. In the heat of the battle (and the actual, real heat) I missed the next mile marker, and when we finally came to mile 13, the split for the last 2 miles was 13:05. I definitely had expected that to be less, with the effort I put into the case, but at least I hadn’t slowed down. The last 0.1 mile went by in 38 seconds, and I crossed the line in 1:27:51, a PR by over 2 minutes and a very satisfying result of a very hard day’s work. Niamh and the kids were there indeed, and all sufficiently proud of the husband/daddy. I congratulated my rabbit, and had a short chat with Mary Sweeney, the third woman who had overtaken me at mile 5.5 (the one I had managed to catch again). She’s very nice, and a very good runner. I had noticed her name in the result pages on a few occasions before, she tends to have similar race times to me. And no, I didn't let on how her overtaking me had stung me.

So, a new PR, and I finished the course over 8 minutes faster than last year, despite the heat. If that means that I’ll be able to cut 16 minutes off my marathon time 4 weeks from now remains to be seen (my target is to cut over 18 minutes, but I’d probably be satisfied with 16). The fact that the older runner went past me was a slice of good luck, without him I wouldn’t have gone into the red zone as much as I had, and probably finished some 30 seconds further back.

The family day continued afterwards, we went on a family trip to Fota wildlife park, where we saw Giraffes, Zebras, Cheetahs, Tapirs, Wallabies, Lemurs, Gibbons, Lamas, Pelicans, Penguins, Flamingos, and at least another dozen types of exotic creatures. The kids were thrilled, Niamh was happy, and I didn’t have to feel guilty about subjecting the entire family to my running obsession. A very good day. Hallelujah.

7 Sep

7 miles, 1:00:06, 8:35 pace, avg. HR 133

8 Sep

5 miles, 43:15, 8:39 pace

9 Sep

~16 miles incl.
Blarney Half-Marathon, 1:27:51, 6:42 pace, avg. HR 176. New PR.

Update 1:

Weekly mileage: 77 miles

Update 2:

I don't know how official that page is, but the time looks correct (they added one second to my watch). Assuming they're the final results I came 63rd, 8th in the M35 age group.