I am a
‘glass half full’ type so I will resist the temptation to match the tales of
woe of the ‘glass three quarters empty’ crowd jostling for position on the
start line. Since the middle of January I have tested my sorry ankle with a few
hundred miles of riding and a reasonable dose of running and swimming
and.....it’s all good or at least there’s nothing to complain about. The week
of warm weather training wasn’t perfect as I picked up, and have been dogged with
since, a chest infection but since all the work was comfortably aerobic it
didn’t impact the level of endurance work I could complete
For good
measure I completed a normalish week of training post camp finishing with a
hilly 5h hour ride the day before the race. The main purpose of the Saturday
ride was to arm me mentally with one more reason to let myself off the hook on
Sunday when the going got tough.
So, with an
array of excuses tucked under my arm I lined up for the real Folksworth 15,
reassuringly windy, wet and cold – it wouldn’t be the Folksworth 15 if it were
any different. Boom, well more of a whimper, the gun sounded and we launched
headlong towards the first mile marker...6:04...errr, reckon I might be over
cooking this one. Mile 2 was mostly uphill and then a quad busting sharp
downhill..6:24...better but still a little too excited. I planned to work my
way up to 170bpm but I seemed to have arrived at that within the first couple
of miles, a bit early to be at ‘hang on in there’ mode but too late now,
nothing for it but to hang on in there for as long as possible!
The next 13
miles drifted by as I battled to stay in the ‘hang in there’ zone, only
punctuated by two runners passing me and me passing one. After the first couple
of miles everyone settles into a pace and the finishing places are more or less
set unless someone fades badly or manages the mythical negative split. Mentally
I had decided to settle for 6:30 min/miles as a target, don’t know why but it’s
a round number I guess and that makes the mathematical gymnastics much simpler
to bend my mind round as the mile markers come and go. Up the final hill and a
sprint for the finish? Not likely, I trundled over the line and glanced up to
see 1:39 click over; just outside 1:37:30 but I was pleased not to have needed
to unpack any of the excuses I had carefully crafted for a potentially
disappointing outcome.
I love
running races because, rather obviously, they are full of runners wearing
skimpy running vests, running shorts and a runner’s race face. I smile to
myself (lack of imagination I guess) as I stand on the start line feeling
rather oafesque, in very obviously non runners kit but knowing that I have a
chance of reaching the finish line before the majority of them. I am also
pleased to report an odd sense of pride as at least two iron distance
triathletes finished in the top 10, Paul Lunn and Matt Stephenson, ahead of 400
or so proper runners.
All in all a
successful day out with 23rd overall and 1:39:04, a slightly slower
time than last year but a few places higher, reflecting tougher conditions. I
wouldn’t claim to be just where I want to be at this time of year but I am
sufficiently confident that I will get there in the end that I have finally
signed up for Ironman Wales. Work in progress.
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