Mini race report:
Brokingham. Well I was after!
Another coup d'état for a resentful lower body and an eggshell built orthopaedic system, this time at ~m8. But lots of positives, notably the company and the weather, celebrated by those of us from the world’s greatest by the removal off all things warm. So nice to revisit care-free running in vests after months of misery, gloves and soggy kit (please note Llanelli Half survivors.).
The queue for the Portaloos was also hugely impressive. Like something by Escher but 2nd nature for Mountain Marathon fans. “Don’t worry - gives it more time to work through the system whilst you wait” I explained to a nervous looking person from another queue, which had just merged with our queue, only to then split off and re-join the back of the original queue by now half way to Basingstoke.
Feeling rather good to be alive on such a day, happy to be 'racing' again, and bravely carrying just the three jelly babies (only one of which eaten) I went off determined to enjoy the ride with sensible targets rather than boring niggles in mind. The start was pretty smooth for a race of 5000 runners.
The first incline was followed by some shameful huffing and puffing. Reports of this being a course for the meek designed by Thomas Aquinas and spirit level may be a tad inaccurate. ‘Playful’ would be polite description. The course reminded me of Hereford, but without the tractors, perfectly traffic free with lots of keen support on route. But not the fastest so bravo indeed Lyndon and Aine for PBing, and thanks for the lift James the Bruce – you ran like the WCR vets team winning captain you are
My biggest mistake Sunday was playing with my “Training” (sic) spreadsheet the night before, a thing of great beauty Mike Davies, especially so the “Planned” column which does great things when mixed with alcohol. So targets and times, rather than just completion, in this case..
<1:50: Minimum – don’t even bother to come back if you fail
<1:48: You should do this for cripse sake. Get a grip. Focus..
<1:46: Dream time. Forest of Dean (maybe) if you are v.good
Expectations had been raised by the Club 10 'Hypothermicap' (1:22 @8:12/m pace and big negative split c/o the quads, when they eventually thawed out..) + five subsequent weeks of almost non-rubbish training + the demise of 3kg of lard (“Blimey you’ve lost weight” said kid #1 Saturday whilst visiting our hovel. Love my kids…). So the plan was simple - start slow, get to half way, be nice to the hip, then pick-up the pace, which I did just a teeny bit but then the glue set - minor panic followed with each split at the prospect of not going under 1:50. The last three miles were horrendous. Just 62 days to London. Tower Bridge at best for me, followed by a pie and a pint in Canary Wharf…
But to answer your big Q Graeme, no they don’t do cake, and yes it is awful long way to go for a Greggs with lots of motorway for those who like bollards. But on arrival a welcoming, well organised and unassuming race which doesn’t waste effort worrying about goody bags/T-shirts etc (righty so IMO), and a wag of a race commentator who talked at length about Mick and the Barry 40 when I eventually staggered across the line in the famous red and green
(talk about fame by association..)
Edited by user 20 February 2018 12:11:06(UTC)
| Reason: speling