Catch Up and Brass Monkey Half Marathon

Right, it’s been a fair old while since I’ve stretched my blogging fingers; It’s not as though I’ve spent the last couple of months completely bone-idle with no running to talk about, but the free time has been a bit sparse. So, let’s recap on the recent shenanigans so we can get up to speed. I’ve been out plodding the roads and fields the usual 3-4 times a week, cranking up the mileage to about 30 miles a week. Granted, this’ll mean I’ll burn out my trainers 30% quicker, but I’ll just have to cope with that. Or run barefoot, I guess. I’ve also been running in new and (vaguely) interesting places; Going on holiday to Brighton with friends gave me the chance to pelt up and down the hills and valleys behind the seaside city, and the annual trip to France gave me the chance to startle locals by going around the quiet seaside town in shorts. Oh, and to do my best Baywatch impression by running shirtless on the beach, or at least if they happened to run 5k on the show. At any rate, if the government are tracking us by our running watches, I’ve heartily confused a few people.

The races have been coming relatively thick and fast as well; Continuing my tradition of being a mad git, I’ve been taking part in the East Yorkshire Cross Country League. These are a far cry from the usual 10k road races that have been the norm till now; Instead there are bone-crunching climbs, breakneck downhills, and the odd river to ford, not to mention generally doing this all in about a foot of mud, or on one memorable occasion, two foot of snow. Now, as someone who’s spent the majority of his training in an area where the only rises in the landscape are the odd railway bridge, I’ve felt somewhat out of my depth in these races; The organisers, in their Machiavellian glory, see it fit to place half a mile of dragged hill slapbang at the beginning of a race, causing you to have to deal with not only the usual exhaustion of racing, but burning thighs and calves for the next six miles as well. It’s fun, honest! Well, moreso now that I’m actually running in off-road shoes. It turns out that it’s quite difficult running through bogs in road shoes, especially when you’ve gotten to the race ten minutes late and you’re having to play catch-up to even run with anyone. Oops.

Aside from that, there’s not been a huge amount of drama involved with training recently. I had a fortnight over Christmas where I was out running exactly once, due to a combination of apocalyptic snow and a gimpy knee (Turns out that running home from a race isn’t the best of ideas), but after that lull I’ve thrown myself back into training with my usual reckless abandon. I was determined to set a decent time for one particular race this month you see…

The Brass Monkey Half Marathon is organised by the York Knavesmire Harriers, and is one of the highlights of the northern racing calendar; Pan flat and famed for it’s PBs, it’s constantly oversubscribed, so making it in was a big event, especially as this would be the first half marathon I’d ever raced (My training progression last year was 5k, 5k, marathon, which I’m sure isn’t the standard way into things). Joining a good 1500 runners in the damp morning, we shuffled into the packed starting area, where we all huddled around for warmth, which is a good thing as my Skins top hadn’t arrived by then, and you could have accused me of feeling the cold somewhat that morning. The starter horn tooted into the cold air, and we set off on an out and back leg out of the racecourse into the countryside. I wish I could tell you something about how interesting the countryside was, but quite frankly, the flatness and the pace conspired against me to make the whole thing a blur; If I hadn’t counted the distance as I went along, I’d have sworn that I lost miles 7-10 somewhere along the way, although I think that was the point where I’d realised exactly how fast I’d set off, and I’d focused down into a little ball of consciousness to just keep the pace up. I’d set off at somewhere less than 7 minutes a mile, and realised that the pace was ridiculous to even think about keeping up for that distance at about 3 miles in. Somehow, I still managed to hover around 7.15-7.30 a mile after that, and I realised when I hit the 10 mile mark and broke my PB for the distance by 8 minutes that I must have been doing something half-right. The only real trauma came about a mile away from the finish line; The harmless-looking bridge we crossed on the way out turned into what felt like an hour-long drag as we tried to keep pace all the way to the top, and then the resulting effort meant that the home stretch was accompanied by swearing and cursing as we tried to speed up for a sprint finish. Speed up I did though, and I sprinted through the finish in 1 hour 38 minutes, which although not ridiculously fast, was quick enough for my first half, and certainly faster than what I was hoping for!

So, what’s next then? Well, I’ve got the next cross country run in three weeks time to contend with, so expect a tale of hardship and hills by then, as well as an attempt to run to work along with my usual training this week, which could well end badly.

Till then, keep on running!

Matt