Coastal Run 2009.

Well done to all involved on today's Coastal Run.

Not much to say about this one despite it being another favourite on the race calendar. I've participated in it.....ummm....several....ten?....eleven?.....I lost count of how many times. But, it's another NE race that deserves its popularity and status as Race Of The Year. A nice departure from your usual half-marathon turn along some tarmac somewhere. "I do like to be beside the seaside" too, but it's a bit distracting watching the waves rolling in during the course of a race! (Yes! Long awaited surf has been indulged in this week!)

Conditions often seem on a par with today's. The headwind probably slowed things up generally. I've posted times from around 1hr 33 to a pb of about 1hr 18 for the route, but my time today of around 1hr 27 was a bit down on the run of gradual improvements I've made in previous years which I'm attributing to that wind and the wetter sands than past couple of years. The wind was welcome from my point of view giving a bit of necessary cooling. Heat has been a problem in previous years but not excessive today.

With the course being basically flat my strategy for it has been to study the route, break it into 12ths and aim for 7min 30s on each 12th for an overall time of 1hr 30. Seems to work for me. If I'm ahead of pace early on it gives a good mental boost and the choice to reign things in a bit or try and keep ahead of schedule until later on then, depending on how I feel, start to race a bit. Today I was fairly evenly paced, knew I was going to get in under 1:30 barring any collapses and I reeled a few in during the second half of the course which kept me going through the bits I find tough (road section through Boulmer and last beach stretch to finish) Quite, thankfully, uneventful really!

Hope you all had a good time.

Here's some (not very good) piccies. Apologies to Simon- whose photo got accidentally deleted in processing, Sarah- who I only managed to take from behind (!), and Victoria & Nathalie who I didn't catch because I had to split with my lift back home. I would've missed the whispering swish of Claire's passing were it not for the, "Oi! Adam! Over here!"...or words to that effect. Nick seems to be pulling along a posse of admirers, is this his fan-club?

Chevy Chase: The Quest for 3:15:00...

Well...couldn't make the post race soiree at the Youth Hostel...so will just have to post my ramblings here and hope that you all had a, dare I say it, FUN day!

On the subject of fun, the Dr Seuss quotation on one of the wee signs along the Hellpath brought to mind this page from one of his books, an apt summary of yesterday.

Chevy 09-The Hellpath.

However, for me anyway, the Hellpath was where the fun, if you could call it that, ran- or rather, walked- out.

All had been going so well. To be realistic, having studied the splits, I wasn't going to get under 3hrs 15 which has been a personal goal for The Chevy, but until Hellpath CP I was well on course for improvement on the 3:20:something of last year and possibly a PB too. (How far back can we get results for the race?)

Taking it easy early soon became the sensible strategy. In fact, going down the Hellpath was where I first picked up on an updraft of heat from the earth which came as an early warning. So...steady as she goes...regular sips at the bottle and wherever else there was an opportunity for water and forget about those up ahead! DONT RACE! Keep the stride rhythm going and enjoy the boosts of congratulation from the walkers.

Cheviot Summit soon came. Despite the heat I knew my time was round about last year's and, with regard to the competition, things took a nudge in my favour. Course knowledge acts in one's favour from here and a couple of race newcomers up ahead went onward from the trig-point a bit too far. I cut across the fence asap, bore down the valley on the steepest contours before picking up on, possibly for the first time ever, the optimum line for the Hedgehope ascent which resulted in a couple of places gain for no extra effort. I knew my Cheviot-Hedgehope split equalled the best I'd done previously and the legs had dealt with the Cheviot descent much better than before. There were 2 runners ahead within striking distance and the back of my hand was less familiar than the Hedgehope-Langlee stretch.

Down Hegehope steadily, thighs still OK with that, and clear obvious track ahead. I passed one of the guys in front who was frustrated with a bad blister and wished him luck. On the path to Long Crag another waft of heat came up at me from the earth and I reigned in the temptation to try and catch next ahead, Keith Mackie from South Shields, an old club-mate from my time with them, and regular Chevy participant. But then weird fortune went in my favour again because Keith went wrong exactly where I did last year and bore too far left after Long Crag. Having recce'd this bit last week, in the fog, I knew exactly which sheep-track to follow. What stopped me from trying to hail Keith, not that he'd have heard me, was thinking that he might possibly be heading down to retire. Was this a subconscious desire of mine though...? Although I knew I'd redeemed last year's foul up on this section (4 mins better by now) I was feeling the pinch of the heat almost constantly.

But then, another bit of sweet relief! For a few minutes between Langlee-Brands Corner there was some cloud cover and cooling of the air. "OH YES!" Thought I. "Just the ticket!" Brief respite though as the sun reappeared equally quickly in all its glory. However, Brands Corner is a sort of 'the end is in sight' spot, I was still keeping momentum and at the bend in the wall where you turn down toward the Happy Valley fortune seemed to be smiling on me again. Here was yet another one of the runners ahead, standing, hands on hips, looking either wasted or bamboozled. I don't glory in another's misfortune, so asked if he was OK.

"Wassup mate? Knackered?"

"Naw. Just got myself lost."

"Straight on mate. We'll pick up the track to the Carey Burn Bridge in just a minute. About 4 miles to go. One more hill."

We ran together until the top of Hellpath, but what he hadn't said when he said he was lost was that he'd bypassed the Brands Corner CP completely! Whoops!

He though bore witness to me 'blowing-up/hitting the wall/mega-bonking' or whatever you want to call it. In fact I actually expressed my concern to him that I might suffer that fate as we ran along the Carey Burn. All the telltale signs were manifesting. The legs aren't lifting quite so high and you clip a stone and stumble. (A sprawling fall just before the footbridge, then a stumble on the stony track before the waterfall) That breaks up your rhythm and breathing. Little cramps start up. (My calves were rippling with niggles under the long socks, a really freaky feeling!) A bit of a flickering sensation across the field of vision turns to dizziness...

Maybe if I'd just walked all the Hellpath? But I got into a trot again after stopping for water then walking the first steep stretch, and thought things were still in control. But, by the gate (That's a gate, and not a wall. Ha Ha!) my head just climbed aboard the Waltzers leaving the rest of me to pay the fare. Mister Lost got into his stride again and made for the farm whilst I did my best to put one foot in front of the other and watched my watch mercilessly ticking away the precious time gain I'd made. Oh bugger!

Got to the farm. Still couldn't run. Dejected. Mister Lost must've been too. He'd had to stop at the farm gate and wait for me to stagger up so he could ask directions again! In my current state I was a bit less sympathetic.

"This IS the same way we ran out you know!?" Indicating the quite well trodden grass across the field to the left of the farm..

Off he went. And was shortly followed by Mister Blister, Keith and one other who all passed me together as I trudged miserably on. Keith offered encouragement, "Come on Adam lad. I know how you feel!" I should've tried to shout him from going wrong earlier. I crammed about 5 glucose tablets into my dry mouth and told myself I was going to start running again when 3:20 ticked over. Gordon Dixon came tappy-lapping past at a great clip on the road and that spurred me on to get going again for the last mile. The curtain somehow lifted and I was running again. Just caught Mister Blister who was down to a walk at the turn off the road, and then it was the welcoming sound of the spectators clapping before the final turn...

As to the organisation... What can I say? Smooth and seamless. It's a great event and duly popular. I'm sure that it'll be a firm fixture for me as long as I'm capable. This year I was initially too focussed then latterly too knackered to acknowledge and thank the long-suffering marshals who must've had an equally brutal day out in the heat, so I take the opportunity now. Hope some of you have time to blog up or e-mail your experiences since I wasn't there for the crack last night.

 

 

 

Chevy- Walkers Start.

The Hills Are Alive....

....With the sound of.....WRC members puffing and panting their various ways through Chevy preparations!

It's a different kettle of fish when the mists come down. Let's hope we get a clear, cool day next Sat. Whatever happens, conditions could be worse (see photo)

Just want to stick my oar in and wish all participants, organisers and others involved next week the best of luck. See you all, steely-eyed with competitive zeal, at the start.

Cheviots Easter 08

Peebles Triathlon.

Peebles Tri was third in the Borders Sport & Leisure Trust series for this year. What an idyllic setting, listening to the pre-race briefing with harmonious church bells pealing in the background.

It was Sprint distance: 750m swim/20k bike/5k run.

I had the benefit of experience at this distance at Eyemouth last season and then Gala in April and so, with prior knowledge that the bike route was mostly flat and the run wholly so, had decided this was going to be a flat-out burn as best I could manage. Maybe that approach should've been tempered a little because trying to go too quickly too soon in the swim was a mistake. Truth be told I hadn't been near a swimming pool to do any training since racing at Selkirk, nor has there been any surf worth paddling for since April. So... what improvements I had been making in the water were lost as I thrashed the first ten lengths or so and got out of puff. Eventually got focussed on the rhythm and stroke length and settled into the rest of it though without, in the end, losing much on my previous best swim time.

Made a bit of an improvement on my bike time. I'd expected this since Peebles was the flattest bike course so far, a picturesque out and back on the B7062 to the south of the Tweed. There was one hill to contend with at a 1/4 then 3/4 the way and this seemed to be to my advantage as it was there, on the return leg, that I caught the one chap from my swim heat who'd exited the pool before me. No-one else from the same swim heat managed to catch me on the bike, which was a first- and my minor victory of the day.

Onto the run, where I ended up going marginally slower than at Gala. This was a 2-lapper utilising both sides of the Tweed and 2 footbridges to form a loop. Very nice. And mercifully flat. Although heavy rain probably cooled things a little for later competitors the sun was still dishing out the degrees while I and others were running and this was where I was feeling things were ganging up on me a bit. One too many drinks at Mr. & Mrs Mosses party the night before. Not enough sleep and an early start. Having to do my own driving!!! (My treacherous chauffeur, Mr.S., had the nerve to use his camper for he and his wife to rough it and make the journey to Peebles an overnight one! ) However, just ducked in under 18minutes anyway and that was it, an overall 14th place from about 90 odd, 4th Vet, 1hr:07:43 an ever-so-slight new PB.

(I suspect Mr.S might prefer to take his good lady for company in future, rather than driving yours truly, 'cos he well and truly killed his previous best time! Well done!)

Alnwinton Fell Race.

There were masses of vehicles parked around Alnwinton village, which turned out to mostly be those of folk participating in the walking of the Alnwinton Round (Pretty much the Fell Race route in reverse from what I could gather), so my first thought on driving down the approach road was, "Jeez! Popular!" However...35 runners in total turned out to be fewer than last year.

Cool, dry conditions, with just a light breeze made for good running and we all got away up Clennel Street at the start to steadily climb the first 5 miles or so. Broad grass track gives way to hardcore forest road where Clennel St. hits and skirts Kidland Forest. Alot of felling and clearing has gone on since I was last that way so the made-up roads are much more widespread now, the same kind of thing we're familiar with on the Broadstruther approach. Not the easiest going underfoot!

Phil Sanderson had taken his usual early lead and gone away to vanishing point before the rest of us mere mortals broke sweat. I never saw him after Checkpoint1 but I'd settled into a tippy-tap in 3rd place up the first climbs and felt rather good. Kept my eye on the second-placer about 30m ahead, confident I could rein him in before CP2 and thinking I'd fall in at his pace thereafter to steady the ship a bit. But....after a bit of cut-and-thrust when I drew level, and then another wee rise, he seemed to tire and I just went with holding my own pace and hoping for the best. Eventually a fork on the road cut the route through the forest to the second checkpoint just before breaking out onto the open fell. Shortly after, at a turn on the track approaching the start of the Bloodybush Edge climb, I allowed myself one backward glance to see what ground I'd made and an empty horizon to the rear (and to the fore- Phil being long gone!) seemed to say to me that second place was my destiny for the day.

Which turned out to be the case. The racing part of the race was done and it was me and the open hills for a while after that. Lovely vistas all round from atop Bloodybush and Cushat Law. The best conditions you could hope for underfoot. Dry springy tracks (this bodes well for the Chevy!) and distinct absence of pond conditions where I've been totally mired on previous occasions. (The dip between Bloodybush and Cushat is often a short swim.) And friendly greetings from walkers looping round in the opposite direction. The clock kept on giving me a nudge to try put the foot down a bit more but I resisted that urge, not having done this race before and also being a bit cautious since I'd opted to not carry any water with me.

Straight down off Cushat Law and into the forest, onto the hard track again. Jack had said this bit was uncomfortably hot last year, partly why I'd resisted the urge to go bonkers over the fells. Good move. Heat wasn't a problem but the feet felt the slapping on the hardcore, particularly on a first steep descent. I'd been going to run in more cushioned shoes than my Walshies too... However...plod on. Winding down through the woods for a couple of miles until CP5 which comes just before the "sting-in-the-tail," a Hellpath-style killer hill about a mile and a half from home. Kept it going up that and bit my tongue on hearing the remark from a descending walker, "You must be mad....!"

("Yes! I'm totally insane. Driven so by such outstanding commentary on the desire to run up hills...")

Final descent down the last mile or so, common to the outward start stretch, and that was it. 14 miles and 2900ft worth of Northumbrian fun! Claire (1st Lady), Jack and Rob made the journey too, well done to all, and it was great there were teammates there to witness my first Wooler RC vest airing. 

 

Top Ten Inspirational Runners.

Purely personal perspective. No particular order.
1. Steve Ovett. Middle Distance track. A lot of other athletes wore him like a rucksac, for about 1300metres, until he undid the straps and jumped out to sprint past in the last 200. Master tactical racer, arguably prone to the odd mistake with that approach though. Big inspiration for me in my teens. Coe? No.
2. Edwin Moses. 400m hurdler. Any number of archive video snippets exist that are testimony to the mesmeric grace of this man's running. Putting aside the record number of race wins in a row, the various associated glories, and what he has done for the world of athletics, he was poetry in motion.
3. Usain Bolt. Sprinter. Likewise. Bang...whooosh. Just so eeeeasy!
4. Joss Naylor. Fells. (Thank you Karl for reminding me of a name here, so I didn't have to type "fell running shepherd" into the search engine! ) True grit. Embodies some of the spirit which I'm sure takes most Wooler RC members out to the hills. Seem to remember seeing something about Fell Running on World Of Sport once when I was but a lad, a strange juxtaposition to the usual football, rugby and wrestling. Would it have appeared there without this fellow following its path? I doubt it.
5. Kelly Holmes. Middle Distance track. Her double at 2004 Olympics was brilliant to watch. I love the photos of her just realising her victory in those races and bursting with the joy of the moment.
6. Bruce Tulloh. Middle Distance track. Although coming to the fore on the track in the late 50's/early 60's, this man's name came to my attention via a book he wrote later about his run across the USA. 'Four Million Footsteps' is the title to look for, and good luck to you should you try 'cos it's hard to come by!  Several runners have made a similar slog across the States, but Bruce was the first and his book had me gripped. Endurance? In short; 44miles/day average for 65 days..... Energy gel, anyone?

Surf...

Wish I could say that surf was, "like the buses..."

You wait ages for a swell and then 3 come along at once.

Better Days...

Errrr. NOT!

To carry through the bus analogy though, and assuming an average wait for a bus to be 10mins and the average gap between swells with rideable waves to be about 2 weeks, then what we have just experienced is...

50 minutes at the bus-stop without ANY traffic on our side of the street at all. Never mind buses. No cars either. No lorries. Not even a stray moped you could thumb a lift on. Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Then, on the horizon at the end of the street.....hope at last! Something looming into view that we can hop a ride on! Oh, what transport of delight...!?

What indeed?

Seems the bus company have dispensed with their clean-lined, smooth operating, easy-aboard vehicles that we love so much and what has rolled up instead isn't the Number 5 to Surfer's Paradise but rather a f#*ked up combine-harvester with a drunk driver and a conductor ready to punch your face instead of your ticket-to-ride.

All aboard?

Some of us hopped on this dismal swell, rabid with waiting for weeks on end, but it was pur....itty shitty. I got in at Embleton, rolled about for an hour-and-a-half and managed to tap out a couple of longer but crumbly waves almost to the beach from the line-up, along with a host of short bursts on collapsing sections. Just one wave pitched up a hollow few yards of a wall for a brief jolt of proper down-the-line speed. Hardly a jaded battery re-charging session though, all-in-all.

"What was the surf like Adam?"

"Blue."