After running my first marathon in Preston last year I hadn't intended to run another, reasoning (rationalising) that it would be difficult to go much faster so I decided to run an ultra instead. But when the Yorkshire Marathon was announced it didn't take much persuasion for me want to run. I lived in York for over a decade and I wanted to be part of what looked like a great race. I'm glad I was quick off the mark as it filled up fast.
In an effort to overcome the "I can't go faster" mentality I had been training with the Dunbar running club, and the opportunity to run with some very talented and fast runners, as well as do some structured interval training definitely offered the chance of a better time. I wrote a whole blog on the many reasons I now felt I could go faster than last year.
Pre race
We headed down to York on the Saturday. Having lived in York for so long there we're a whole bunch of people we wanted to catch up with so had a lovely lunch with friends and then a birthday party to attend which coupled with a three and a half hour drive made for a busy day.
We stayed with our friends Lex and Trav who were brilliant hosts. Lex ran the marathon too, and had a great race in her first marathon getting round in a shade over 4:30. There was plenty of pasta and pizza for tea, although I had to restrict myself to just the one beer which felt quite hard, but I consoled myself with the thought of how many I could enjoy to rehydrate the following day.
I slept fairly fitfully I was definitely awake at three listening to some very heavy rain, and then had a dream that I hadn't bothered to turn up to the marathon but was too ashamed to tell anyone. I was almost a relief to get up and have breakfast. I had shredded wheat and toast and then a little later some malt loaf, which I also took a few slices of too the start.
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| Ready to go after a good breakfast |
I was very lucky to avoid too much hassle getting to the start, as one of our old neighbours had very kindly let me leave the car on their drive, ten minutes away from the university, so it was a short and hassle free trip to the start at York uni.
My wife was an undergraduate at York and I well remember my confusion on my first introduction to the campus many years ago when we went for a few drinks in one of the university bars. The whole thing is a magnificent and confusing homage to concrete and I was quickly lost. Chalking my confusion down to the darkness and a my earnest desire to fully appreciate the refreshments on offer, I was surprised to find that even in daylight and sober it's a confusing place. To be honest I suspect that Julie spent three years there without ever actually being able to find her way around, but she was hampered by the need to give a wide berth to the many geese who flock to the university to terrorise economics students with fear of all living creatures.
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| The concrete jungle on a quieter day |
Anyway to this confusing tableau the marathon added extra layers of complexity by adding in fiendish one way systems and fearsome security guards to enforce them, and I was mentally exhausted by the time I found myself at the back of the immense baggage drop queue. I feared the worst at this point, but to the honest I think I just arrived at peak time, the queue gradually moved, and the subsequent queue for the toilets wasn't too bad.
I was lucky enough to run into a old university friend Graham, who I hadn't seen in 15 years on the way to the start, and then to bump into team Dunbar who were ready to race, and finally to my old boss Kev on the start line. It was great to see so many friendly faces. Rain threatened but never materialised, and we were off. I started in zone two. Given that this was numbers 1000 - 2500 and I was number 1005 I was a bit miffed to have just missed out on a spot in zone one, but actually it was fine, it took a couple of minutes to get over the line and we were running freely straight away.
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| The massed ranks at the start |
The route and the plan.
The route started off by going through the centre of York then headed out through the suburbs, into the countryside and surrounding villages as far as Stamford Bridge before heading back via a couple of out and back sections, some more suburbs and a cheeky wee hill at mile 25.5.
My plan was to try and get round in 3:30. This needed a 8:00 minute per mile pace. Although I was concious of the need to bank some time earlier one in order to counteract any later slowing down. I hoped to be a the significant right turn at seven miles in 55 minutes, at the turn in Stamford Bridge at 14 miles in 1:50, then 20 miles in 2:40.
And we're off
The first mile or so was fine. I'm always surprised by the variety of pace, with some of those ahead going very slowly and some people flying past from behind, but it settled down very quickly. I was immediately kicking myself as I checked my pace on my garmin which was annoyingly still set in kilometres not miles. Julie works in km and had used it to run the Glasgow half, and although I had thought on many occasions I needed to turn it back, the Gods of procrastination had waited till race day to give me a kicking. At least an eight minute mile is easy to convert into a five minute km so it wasn't too mentally taxing.
The run through the town was fairly quiet as it was early in the morning. but the atmosphere by the mister was electric. I've had the privilege of running past the Minster before in the 10k and it is always amazing to run past with the bells ringing and the crowds cheering. Things quickly settled down and the run through Heworth and down to Stockton-on-the-forest was fairly uneventful.
I was carrying four gels and some sesame snaps (basically sesame seeds and sugar, one of the few foods I look back on without nausea from the Clyde Stride), I soon realised that in all my planning I had forgotten to plan when to take these and decided to alternate the two at the water stations which were every three miles.
Road marathons are in some ways quite dull, people aren't all that chatty and tend to be pretty focussed on what they are doing but it was nice to chat briefly to a few people as we went round. At one point a guy behind me took a call on his phone, I really wanted him to come past with a Dom Jolly comedy phone shouting "Hello I'm running the marathon" but sadly it was not too be, he was just keeping his supporters up to date - the pressures of the modern marathon.
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| "Hello I'm running the marathon" |
The support in the villages was great, many of these people had been trapped in their villages by the marathon road closures, and in spite of this they were still happy to cheer us on. There was a great toddler in Stockton on the Forest who came out of his house looked down the road and shouted "Dad, there's millions and millions of people." I also remember a scout troop somewhere round here and some great music. As someone who has been banned from drumming for crimes against rhythm, it's the drummers who I remember most I think there were two lots on the course and they sounded really good.
The seven mile mark came in 55:34, the half in 1:43:54 (this is actually a PB for me in a race), and the 14 mile point in 1:50:21, all going to plan.
Route 166
We were now into the out and back sections along the A166. I didn't mind the first out and back at all it's nice to see all the other people and to look for people you know ahead and behind. I saw former boss Kev up ahead and Dunbar runner Ann just behind.
It was also at this point I started to see a few people I knew in the crowds and it was great to see some people I hadn't seen in a while. Thanks Vinny and Sam, Lucy, Rose and Sue a friendly face is always a welcome boost
It's around mile 16 that the first signs of fatigue set in. I'm slowing, only by 5 or 10 seconds per km, but I'm having to work harder to do this pace, and this section is gradually downhill. I haven't got enough time in the bank to be slowing so soon, and it's too far out to start pushing too hard. I see Ian and Richard from Dunbar as I start the 2nd out and back, both looking good, as Graham who is flying along a little behind them. I see someone being put into an ambulance (never a great morale booster) and head down to the turn.
The back bit of the out and back was from mile 18 to mile 19.5 and it was all uphill. Not steeply uphill but the kind of gentle but un-remitting uphill that gradually saps your strength. I went into this section just a little bit behind plan and came out of it with any hopes of 3:30 having gone. It was just hard, and I did not have the legs to run it fast, I ran it slow and plenty of others walked. Running slow was still too much as in the latter part I began to feel very sick. This wasn't unexpected I often feel sick but this was a lot worse than normal.
The hard bit
I got the the end of the A166 section and turned for home, I was thinking I'd be faster if I just stopped and was sick so this is what I decided to do. As soon as I had decided this I was right in the middle of a village so decided I'd wait until I was out of the other side before puking. Then I was confronted by a camera, stymied again, I thought I'd better run past. Then finally I found a likely spot and stopped. Could I actually manage to be sick, not a chance, my body which had been saying for ages that it would like nothing more than a quick vomit decided to change its mind and there was nothing I could do to persuade it otherwise.
I ran on, I went slowly, I tried to run faster, I couldn't, I wanted to stop, I didn't, I wanted to walk, I didn't I just moved forwards, slowly. It was good to get to Murton, the support here was good and Laura was another very welcome friendly face, I kind of felt bad afterwards for the high five though, given I'd just had my fingers down my throat trying to be sick. Luckily for Laura I'd offered her the other hand.
Crossing the ring road was a milestone, and the support through the suburbs was great. I was running at about 10 minute mile pace now and accepting that time goals had gone I was just trying to enjoy the experience. Which I sometimes achieved.
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| A picture is worth 1000 words, and this is a graph so it's even better |
So the final act of note was to get up the hill. I was fairly accepting of my fate now, resigned to running up the hill, my body didn't need much persuasion I just got on with it on autopilot. There was a guy walking just in front of me, I'd seen him giving himself a good talking too at the bottom of the hill and having given up on my own targets I kind of didn't want him to do the same, although for all I know he might have been on for a massive PB, non the less I gave him some encouragement and got him running up the hill a lot faster than I could.
Along the finishing straight and I'm scanning the crowd for Julie and boys. The spectating logistics have been complex so I don't know if they're actually here, but Julie got in trouble at the Glasgow half for not high fiving the boys in the finishing straight, and I don't want to befall the same fate.
The crowds are massive and by the time Julie calls my name it's too late for a high five, but great to see them. I jog on too the line, I pass the guy I'd encouraged up the hill and scare the life out of him giving him a pat on the back as I go past. The video shows me applauding the crowd as I approach the line, I can't actually remember this but I guess it is true, and then over the line and stop.
I keep waiting for someone to put a medal around my next, but this doesn't happen, so I go and get my goodie bag and find the medal and put it on. Somehow this seems important. I sit down kind of feeling on the verge of tears but not quite being able to cry, this feels a bit disappointing. I the end I stand up and go and find my family.
Two minutes with the children in a crowded finish area reminds me that watching with two children is definitely harder than running, and I'm very grateful to Julie for making the effort. One advantage of the pink medal is that the boys aren't fighting over who gets to wear it - they don't seem keen at all. But my nieces seem quite taken with it when we see them later on.
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| Pink |
Julie keeps trying to make me eat, but I don't feel like anything. In the end we go to meet my mum and sisters who have come over but missed the actual race, I get some chips and cake in the cafe and the recovery process begins.
The walk back to the car is fine, and I think this probably does me a lot of good although walking down steps is tricky. Then back to Lex and Trav's for wine and beer and tea.
3:45:06.
Afterwards
I've been trying to convince myself I'm not disappointed, sometimes I succeed. The truth is it was a great race and enjoyed lots of it, especially the support which was excellent, seeing the people I knew and running through one of my favourite cities. The truth is also that if I'm being honest with myself everything was set up for a good run and I know I could and should have done better.
The only conclusions I can draw are that perhaps I ate and drank a little too much which made my stomach worse, so next time out eat and drink less. That the day before wasn't as restful as you would normally want. And that I perhaps lack a bit of metal fortitude when it gets tough, or didn't want it enough and that's why it didn't happen. Not sure how to fix this.
Next up is a wee 53 mile jaunt next April.
