Marathon Eryri race report and race season wrap

At the end of last year’s Marathon Eryri race report, I wondered whether I’d be fit and fresh enough to break 5 hours in 2012.  With the marathon being only 6 weeks after the slogfest of Ironman Wales, I really did worry this was a step too far. 

In the six weeks between both events, I’d rested for a week then I’d swim twice a week, did some bits of core work here and there, rode my bike once and ran two or three times a week, the longest run being the traditional “Rhedeg i Mamgu” (Run to my Gran’s), a 16 mile hilly route, followed the next day by the 7 mile Twin Peaks race in Aberystwyth.  My runs had felt ok but my heart rate hadn’t been as low as I would’ve liked but I accepted it as being part of post Ironman fatigue. 

In the two weeks before the marathon however, I hadn’t felt right.  Not ill, but tired and spaced out.  I did some short runs which felt fine but my running legs felt somewhat detached.  Despite this, I was really looking forward to the race and nothing would stop me turning up at the start line.

After a car journey which took forever and a quick stop off in Llanberis to register, we checked into our hotel and promptly walked across town to eat at the Italian restaurant I’d eaten at the last two years.  A large pasta dish was devoured before heading back to the hotel to settle down for the night.

There was no not being able to sleep nonsense this time.  I slept quite soundly and woke up feeling ready for the day.  I took full advantage of the all-you-can-eat hotel breakfast (although didn’t go overboard, which could’ve easily happened), relaxed in our room for a while before heading to Llanberis, a 6 mile drive away.

Unlike the last two years, the pre race ‘hanging around’ was rain free and bright, although pretty damn cold.  I queued for the loo twice, chatted to familiar faces and tweaked then re-tweaked my kit.  Soon I was down at the start line with Dan, who was trying to pick his way through the mass of runners with his bike so that he could ride up to the top of the pass.  He failed and decided to head back to Llanberis to warm up with a cup of tea and the papers.

The hooter sounded and we were off.  The first two or so miles are either downhill or flat so it’s a nice gentle introduction.  I clocked my first mile at around 9 minutes 20 seconds which impressed me and I felt fairly comfortable.  The incline starts just after mile two and winds its way through the beautiful valley, giving you views of Snowdon.  However, my focus was mainly on the tarmac in front of me, concentrating on making it up the 3 mile steady incline.  It was half way up that an old school friend Aled caught me up.  We had a brief, breathless chat, before he slowly edged away.  Finally at the top, I took a drink and started on the decent.  The views on the decent are stunning and I took it all in whilst getting my breath back and striding down the hill. 

The off road section at mile 6 was odd this year.  It was very crowded and we all ended up almost marching down the track like a military regiment.  It was as if everyone’s feet were running in unison and there wasn’t much space to overtake.  By the time we got back to the road, I was still feeling ok (and surprisingly hot in the sunshine).  Over the next few flat miles, I started to feel a little uncomfortable. Even though I tried to slow down, my body seemed to want to run at that pace, so I just persevered with it.  I got to the half way mark in 2 hours 7 minutes, which I recalled was 8 minutes faster than last year, so again, I was impressed.

The hill out of Beddgelert was tough.  It’s a 2 mile, winding steady hill that gets steeper towards the top.  You keep thinking you’re at the top, but you turn the corner and there’s more hill.  I suffered up this hill but kept shuffling, overtaking Aled in the process.

The next bit of ‘flat’ between the top of this hill and Waunfawr seemed to go by really quickly.  I was ticking off the miles, still feeling like I ought to slow down, but physically not able to.  You can’t help but be distracted by the surroundings which may have helped with keeping my pace steady.

The hill wall at Waunfawr is more like a natural conventional marathon ‘wall’ that hits you like a train.  Only the double hard bastards can run up it, and although I’m pretty robust, there’s no way of getting me up there other than nose to the grindstone, hands on knees type marching.  Whereas everyone seems to dread this bit, I was looking forward, in a weird way, to getting here so that I could start walking, albeit up an average of about 20%, climbing from 116 metres to 376 metres in just under 3 miles.  I kept up a good pace and looking at my watch, was starting to think that sub 5 hours was probably doable, as long as I kept this up.  I didn’t want to think I’d got it in the bag.  I felt tired but motivated and once I got over the worst of the steepness, I started little bursts of running inbetween determined marching. 

Finally, the mile 25 sign and pretty little village of Llanberis were in view.  What you climb in just under 3 miles on the way up, you descend within a mile on the way down, which as you can imagine, is fun if not agony.  I don’t think I ran down this bit as fast this year as last, probably because I was by now confident that I would reach my goal time.  This last downhill ensures that every last square millimetre in your muscles are pumped full of lactic acid although, luckily, given the end was in sight, it was quite easy to block the pain out. 

Finally I was on Llanberis High Street which was lined with cheering supporters.  I crossed the line and pumped my fists, finishing in 4 hours 47 minutes 45 seconds.  I was so pleased. This was a 14 minute improvement on last year but then I realised I was only a minute and half from getting my marathon pb, which is 4 hours 46. 

I didn’t particularly feel in prime condition on the day so I was pleased with how I’d fought against the constant desire to stop running.  I was worried about being too tired after IM Wales but the combination of solid endurance training over the last year, a slight change in my running form and being a stone lighter in weight certainly contributed to being able to run faster. 

The sub 2 hour Llanelli half marathon and 14 minute Marathon Eryri pb have bookended my race season nicely, however, I’m at a loss to explain why my runs in triathlon were not so successful and pretty miserable this year.  Improving my triathlon running is my main goal for 2013.  I’m currently a week and half into a 5 week running hiatus, aiming to give my legs a break so that I’m fresh and raring to go for the start of Base training come January.  In the meantime, I’m concentrating on swimming and strength work with a little bit of turbo or cycling thrown in but November and December are mainly about relaxing, birthdays, Christmas and most importantly, eating. 

Ironman Wales 2012 race report

Being dragged around a drizzly Tenby on a Sunday afternoon as a grumpy teenager or sat on North Beach making sandcastles as a contented 6 year old, little did I know that it would one day be the base for one of the toughest, rewarding, exhilarating, longest and proudest days of my life.

Ironman Wales made its debut in Tenby last September and after completing Challenge Copenhagen a month earlier, spectating the race and experiencing the special atmosphere convinced me that I definitely wanted to do my 'backyard' Ironman.  So excited I was by what I'd seen in Tenby and despite the atrocious 'end of a hurricane' conditions the athletes had to endure, I entered as soon as entries for 2012 opened.  It took a little while longer for Dan to be convinced, but he'd entered by the end of the year.

Training had gone to plan. Knowing hills featured prominently in Pembrokeshire, most of my training involved dragging my arse up endless hills - in the Pyrenees, the Welsh valleys and of course I had the luxury of being able to train on Pembrokeshire's lumps and bumps.  5.30am wake up calls to head to the pool became customary.  Getting up at the normal time of 7am became a 'lie-in'.

One major worry was the fact I'd have to swim 3.8km in the sea.  I'm not keen on the sea.  However, we chose our 'training' races carefully, making a trip down to Cornwall to take part in the Kernow Man Middle Distance and signing up to our other local race, the Pembrokeshire Coast Olympic Tri, which took place in Broad Haven.  Both races allayed my fears, despite a bitterly cold sea in Cornwall and a frustratingly choppy  swim in Broad Haven. The weeks went by ridiculously quickly and it was all of a sudden time to pack the car with all our paraphernalia (including Pws) and head to Pembrokeshire!

We arrived in Tenby on the Friday and the place was, predictably, awash with fellow triathletes.  Dan and I registered, had a look around the expo then headed to North Beach for a practice swim.  There was a lovely atmosphere down at the beach, with everyone chatting to eachother whilst attempting to squeeze onself into distinctively smelling neoprene.  There were blue skies and light winds so it was a very pleasant setting.  I really enjoyed the practice swim and all the fears of having to battle surf and rolling waves had long since evaporated.  We attended the race briefing and pasta party that evening where we saw fellow Bad-triers also taking part.

Saturday morning was kind of stressful.  I'd agreed to be interviewed by welsh radio so a microphone was shoved in front of my face after breakfast.  Then we needed to get down to Tenby (from my parents') to rack the bikes and hand in our transistion bags.  I hadn't bothered packing my bags before going down because I knew I'd only take everything out again to double check them.  On arriving in Tenby I almost immediately went out for one last short bike ride to check that the Blue was riding ok.  I headed out towards Kiln Park where my friends Helen and  Lou 'The Church' had just arrived to pitch up their tent.  They'd come to Tenby to support me, which was so touching.

Eventually, to the detriment of having lunch at the normal time, we racked and handed our bags in.  I felt calm now so enjoyed my late tuna salad lunch and proceeded to attempt to relax for the rest of the day.  Helen and The Church came over to the sea view apartment we were staying at and we sat and overlooking the beach, chatting.

The day before and ironman is a bit like a Sunday before going back to work.  You don't want bed time to come.  After a spag bol dinner cooked by Gill and Russ who we were sharing the flat with, we settled down to watch an array of Saturday night TV.  Soon enough, Match of the Day was on and it was time to go to bed.  I insisted on watching the Man Utd game so had to compromise with Dan and watched the game on mute.  I'm sure he went to sleep straight away.  I turned the TV off and listened to my ipod.  I didn't feel ready to sleep yet....and so it went on all night.  I wasn't ready to sleep.  Although I think I almost fell asleep a dozen times, I never quite made it.  It's amazing how quickly time goes when you can't sleep.  By 3am I'd resigned myself to the fact that I'd probably have to do an ironman on zero sleep.  Ah well.

My unnecessary alarm went off at 4am.  Dan awoke and I declared I'd not slept at all. I had a shower and realised I felt pretty sick and my stomach wasn't behaving.  I made porridge, my favourite breakfast in the world but it smelt disgusting.  I managed to eat half of it,  a little bit of banana soreen and a bottle of lucozade sport.  Not ideal.

We then left to head to transistion through Tenby's dark and quiet streets.  There were some stragglers from nights out, looking on bemused.  It was still and fairly warm but my god I felt sick.  I knew it was just nerves though, although I can't say I felt that nervous. I saw Andrea on the way into transistion who told me not to worry.  On the plus side, however, I got to my bike this year to find both tyres still inflated (unlike the flat one that greeted me at Copenhagen last year).  Bike dressed and after-race bag handed in, we headed back to the apartment to put on our wetsuits.  It was still pretty dark outside and I fretted over which goggles to wear - clear or polarised?  I went for my old clear ones.

By the time we got outside the apartment again, it was more light than dark and we joined the procession of seal-like contemplative souls down to the beach.  The size of the crowd who'd already come out to watch astonished me.  My nausea was starting to wane too.  Down at the beach, Dan and I said our goodbyes, good lucks and kissed before having a quick dip in the sea as a 'warm up'.  It was quite surreal to hear 'Hen Wlad fy Nhadau' sung before embarking on a triathlon, but it was nice.  The twit who shouted "Come on England!" at the end did not impress me, but fired me up a little, which was needed.  All of a sudden the South African Ironman man announced "90 seconds to go!" and with that started some tense music.  I was stood towards the back of the pack, as usual, and was fretting about how foggy my goggles were.  Eventually there was some kind of bang, a cheer from the crowd and the pack moved forward.  I was still faffing with my goggles as I entered the sea but a quick plunge in the water completely cleared them and I was happy that I could actually see now.  And so began the swim.

As predicted, the first few hundred metres was a bun fight.  People breastroking, stopping  in front of you (!), swimming over/under you etc.  Chaos, but I was fine with it.  It took a while to get some clear water but half way to the first buoy the field spread out a little. I managed to avoid the ruckus going around the first buoy opting to round it the long but less stressful way.  Getting to the end of the first lap I thought "God, I have to go around again?!".  I didn't look at my watch but I did hear some guy muttering "My God!" after looking at his.  I feared that our first lap had taken an eternity.  A "Go Lowri" from Sarah in the crowd lifted my spirits running through the Australian exit and I waded in again for the second round.  The swim was quite pleasant indeed but half way around  the second lap I thought again about how long this seemed to be taking.   Finally the beach and Goskar Rock was in sight and I planted my feet in the sand to stagger out. I immediately peeled off the top half of my wetsuit and looked at my watch finally - 1hr11.  I couldn't believe it.  That was about 6 minutes faster than my Copenhagen time.

Next was the one kilometre dash to transition.  First we had to locate our run shoes then negotiate a steep ramp up from the beach before trotting to essentially the other side of Tenby to sort ourselves out for the bike.  T1 was busy and I struggled to find a space to sit but I eventually managed to compose myself and change into bike kit. 14 long minutes after exiting the water, I presented myself to my bike and off we went of the most epic of Ironman bike courses.

I'd recced the route four times so was very familiar with how challenging it was.  I'd even done the whole two loops 3 weeks previously and had managed it in a minute shy of 8 hours so I was hoping for a slightly faster time today.  Leaving T1 the crowd was vocal and excited but I managed to spot Dan's parents then my Mum and Sister.  Before getting to the first of many hills, I flew past Helen and The Church who were on their way back to the car to head back to Bristol.  I shouted something about having a chafe on my neck then thanked them for having come down to see me.

The first stretch of the bike leg is a 10 mile undulating stuggle to Lamphey.  I could feel a headwind.  It wasn't too bad but it wasn't as pleasant a day as when I'd done my recce.  Within a few miles I came across a crash that had just happened and witnessed one guy fling his expensive looking Trek TT bike into the hedge...within 10 minutes he'd passed me again.  As we got to the first hill after Pembroke, a guy on a lovely Canyon TT bike drew alongside me and started chatting to me in welsh.  His name was Ioan and he'd seen my name on my number and presumed correctly that I spoke the lingo.  We had a nice chat whilst we struggled up St Daniel's hill.  I eventually pulled away then realised my Garmin had lost signal.  This annoyed me but I wasn't worried since I knew the course like the back on my hand.

I had a lot of chats, mainly with Irish competitors.  I was surprised by the amount of people who hadn't recced the course at all so I dished out sound advice to anyone who wanted it.  There were pockets of crowds situated in random spots along the route, whooping and hollering as we rode past.  On the hill at Templeton, a boy with a clipboard was telling everyone their positions and declared that I may be the 75th woman to go by.  This amused me.  I was excited about getting to Narberth, despite to gruelling hill to get up there, as it was the nearest place to home.  It was here I saw lots of familiar faces - Nia & Emyr, Nerys & Gary, Emma and her Mum, Chris the hairdresser and finally my Mum and Sister at the feed station, where I stopped for a comfort break and a chat whilst faffing around with drinks bottles.  On a quiet stretch of road at Prince's Gate I spotted a familiar looking jacket - it was Andy and Pete (in his Badtri jacket).  It was great to see them but I did wonder how they'd got to such a random bit of road.

Soon enough it was time to tackle the two big hills, and being at the end of the loop they were tough.  The atmosphere on what's been dubbed 'Heartbreak Hill' in Saundersfoot was immense.  Now I know how Tour de France riders feel (well, maybe).  The hill out of Saundersfoot goes on a lot longer that Heartbreak Hill so it was a delight to see Andrea sat in a deckchair at the top cheering me on.  I can remember saying "that's a b***ard of a hill!" to her.

Back down into Tenby and into more great crowd support.  I think I may have heard an announcer saying my name and I do remember seeing Pat & Pete.  On the stretch to Lamphey again and the wind had picked up.  Things were getting very tough now.  By Carew, the drizzle had started and we were all getting very wet.  It was at this point too that my knee decided it was gonna hurt like mad, a weird injury I'd had on and off since Copenhagen last year.  The searing pain under my kneecap gave me cause for concern and climbing out of the saddle became a no-no.  The rain meant that the crowds were now thinning out, just at the point when we really needed them.  I made more 'friends' - an American guy who was doing it because "his wife had wanted to visit Wales", a guy from Blackcountry Triathletes and some others who I don't now recall. By the time we'd got back to Wiseman's Bridge, there was a lot of effing and blinding going on, however, my knee pain had long since disappeared.  At Saundersfoot I was encouraged by what crowd was left to "beat the guys" so I put in a little spurt (and got to the top first).  FINALLY, we were back in Tenby.  Just one more little bump to climb and we were approaching T2.  The guy from BC Triathletes held out his hand to me and we both well-doned eachother on making it back.

I was so glad to be off that bike although I was also greatful to it for not having broken down in any way.  I thanked it and staggered back into the marquee.  I'd been looking forward to the run as I knew not much could go wrong now and it was just a case of one foot in front of the other, just keep moving forward.  I was also excited about who I'd see in Tenby.

Last year in Copenhagen, I'd had trouble with nausea on the run and I was determined that it wouldn't affect me this year again.  I took a salt tablet at the first aid station.....but the damage had already been done and I realised I felt pretty dreadful.  Thankfully it was only the feeling that I wanted to puke everywhere that afflicted me so I was able to run, somewhat.  I took on two of my three Isogels, drank water, pepsi but nothing seemed to shift this awful feeling.  I think I managed the first loop relatively well and even ran up the first hill.  It was here I saw Dan, who already had 2 lap bands - he was doing very well.  Crowd support was brilliant again and all us ladies seemed to get extra special cheers, so few and far between we were out there (121 female finishers against 1093 men!!!).  Andy and Pete were at the arse end of the lap which, again, cheered me up, and Andy offered good advice that when I walked, I was to walk with purpose.

By the time I was back in Tenby at the end of my third lap, still feeling dreadful, I wondered if I'd finish in under 15 hours.  I had just under an hour and a half to get round again, which sounds like a lot for 10k.  I was starting to feel worse and the combination of no sleep, the 133 miles I'd already travelled, inadequate fuelling and seeing others with pink bands heading for the finish dragged me to my lowest point of the day.

Onto my last lap and it was now just a matter of getting it done.  I think I must've walked almost the whole way. I could barely run downhill now for fear of throwing up and maybe even fainting.  A guy called Les started chatting to me and we walked all the way down the hill back into town.  By now I only had 2k or so to go so I really tried to run, albeit in small spurts.  What was left of the crowd further encouraged me.  Rounding the final few bends of the zigzag course through town, I looked at my watch - 14:59 - damn, I thought, but I wasn't too downbeat.  I'm not sure how it then took me a further 10 minutes to get to the finish line (the spot whereby I'd looked at my watch is a bit fuzzy).  I finally got to the bit of the course where I could go left instead of right.  I was trotting but soon slowed to a walk when I realised the finishing chute was slightly uphill.  Then I saw my crew - Dan, Mum, Dan, Elin, Jon, Pat & Pete - I had to start running again.  A quick hug from my Mum and finally the red carpet and bright lights.  I don't remember much of it but I do remember it was loud, bright and that there was a massive screen in front of me with my big grinning face on it.  Over the line, arms up and a sigh of relief.  It was done.  15 hours 9 minutes.

I was given my medal by a kind lady who gave me a lovely personal congratulations (can't remember what she said but I remember being touched) then a hearty handshake from the Mayor of Tenby.  Then all my nearest and dearest were around me.  I hugged Dan.  He'd done brilliantly.  I was happy too, happy to have survived such an epic day.

Learning in the heat

On Sunday I took part in the San Domenico 20 mile race.  It sounds exotic but it's a lovely little local race held in Merthyr Tydfil.  I did this race 2 years ago in preparation for the Brighton Marathon.  My friend Becca is doing her first Marathon in London next month so I persuaded her that it would be a good idea to do at least one long run as a race and with company.  I just fancied doing the race as I like getting the early season run miles in.

The day dawned bright and sunny. The previous day had been pretty warm for March and I got a bit concerned about how hot it would be on the run.  I've never been very happy running in the sun and heat.  I like nothing better than to layer up on a freezing cold (but sunny) day and head out on a long run.  The sun tends to make me wilt.

I don't usually carry water in races but I thought it best to this time.  I stocked up my running belt with one bottle of water, one of strawberry Nuun and a packet of shot bloks.

The race started at 10am and Becca and I aimed to run at 10 minute mile pace.  After a few dog-leg laps we headed out onto the Taff Trail.  The temperature was ok but the sun was already blazing in our faces.  I'd worn my visor and sunglasses as I can't stand glare (I do like the sun really).  After 3 miles, we worked out we were running at around 9 minute 15 mile pace so we tried to slow down.  I felt fine, but not 100%.

At 7 miles is quite an enormous hill which heads up out of the valley, rewarding you with a great view at the top.  I ran up most of the hill but walked when it got too steep.  Becca ran all the way.  Once at the top you gently decend down towards Treharris.  I like to run down hills pretty fast, which I'm not sure is always a good idea during a long run.  At the end of the decent was a 14% downhill which I ran down like a 6 year old.  Once the path was flat again, I realised I felt pretty drained.

The next 3 miles wound along the side of the Taff on a stony path.  This didn't help and I started to feel pretty unsettled and hot.  I'd worn a t-shirt with my badtri vest over it and concluded that this was probably too much for this weather.  Everything was strating to get on my nerves - my belt was too tight and hot around my back, the straps on it kept flapping, my visor was too hot. 

At 12.5 miles I picked up a High5 IsoGel which was quite a welcome relief.  I perked up a  bit and I felt better for the next 2 or so miles (I might start using IsoGel for running).  After having to climb up some big steps through an underpass, we were back on the Taff Trail again, heading back towards Merthyr.

With 6 miles to go I was struggling keep up with Becca and slowing down.  She was doing so well and she was determined to run all the way and overcome that mental barrier.  I started to adopt a bad attitude, that "why am I here? I don't need to do this" attitude I tend to get if I'm not training for an imminent event.  I did want to be there, I just wanted to get it done.  I started walking up short hills which disappointed me. 

I do enjoy running with people but only if I'm having a good run.  When the going gets tough I just want to be on my own.  So I eventually told Becca to go on, with about 3 miles to go.  I'd finished my drinks supply by now and was downing as much water as I could at the drinks station.   I was so hot and told anyone who would listen!

I finally got to the 19 mile marker and tried to pick up the pace and get the race done.  I still walked up two short hills in the last mile but managed to then 'power' on to the finish.  I even managed to outrun another lady.  Becca was there at the end to greet me and I finished with a smile on my face, as ever.

I beat my time from 2 years ago by almost 5 minutes but I was hoping to go faster.  The 16 mile hilly run to my gran's 2 weeks ago had suggested that I was running faster.  I'd been very comfortable on that run and it was a dry, bright but cool day.  I can only conclude that I don't do running in 'hot' weather.  What concerns me though is that it wasn't even that hot, no more than 20 degrees.

One problem was my outfit.  I had one too many layers on.  This was the first warm spell of the year, so I don't expect my body's ready for heat yet.  Over the coming months I'm going to try to get comfortable running in heat.  Hopefully we'll have a few hot spells which will give me the opportunity to head out for short midday runs and test out hydration strategies.  I don't want to wilt in my two middle distance triathlons, coming up in May and June when who knows what temperatures will be like!

2012 - Big year, big start. Llanelli Half Marathon race report.

There hasn't been anything much to report on the race front over the last few months.  Unlike last year, I hadn't entered any winter off road races despite being keen on doing a few.  Moving house and general busyness meant many races passed me by. I of course continued to train.

Ironman Wales is my main focus this year.  I'm fairly nervous but excited about it.  It feels like this enormous dragon, a big and angry race, waiting to be slayed in September.  I want to be in the very best condition and the fittest I've ever been to be able to tackle it.  It's not going to be easy.

As usual for the first few months of the year, I've been running quite a bit.  I've also been swimming lots and enjoying the 50m pool in Cardiff. I've been doing a lot of pull and paddle work.....I think I'm getting faster.  I've not done that much cycling, which is worrying me a bit, but I did manage to navigate my way, all by myself, around the Vale of Glamorgan to carve out a 50 mile ride on a beautiful spring-like morning.  I felt great throughout the ride and I'm looking forward to building on it.

Since Christmas, I've been enjoying my running.  Wearing my Newton trainers has certainly changed my running technique and I now feel springier and more efficient.  The way I felt on my long runs around a mainly flat Cardiff had suggested that my aim of a spring sub 2 hour marathon may not be impossible. After the unpleasantness of the Cardiff Half in October, I was looking forward to seeing if less training over the winter (i.e. not Ironman training) meant that I could keep threshold running for longer.

On Sunday, my sister Elin and I drove down to Llanelli to take part in the Waterside Half Marathon.  I had done this half four years ago, in preparation for the London Marathon so I knew the course was more or less flat with a few benign bumps here and there.  Perfect for trying to get a pb.

We awoke at 5.15am to pissing rain outside.  I've become immune to worrying about race weather now and "they'd" said that the rain would stop and clear by 9 o'clock, and so it did.  We arrived in Llanelli in ample time to have a stroll around and a cup of tea in the car.  It was cold and not as windy as I thought it would be.  There was a nice atmosphere and I felt relaxed and happy.  Waiting for the start with Elin, I actually felt excited to get the race going as opposed to indifferent which is how I felt before the Cardiff half.

Eventually, after a bit of standing on my tip-toes to see what was going on and why we hadn't started at the advertised 9am start time, the crowd shuffled forward and broke into a trot.  Unusually for me, I also started trotting and I was off on my quest for a sub 2 hour or at the very least a pb.

I'd told myself before the race that I wasn't going to get hung up on checking my time at each mile marker.  I couldn't resist though, and at mile 1 looked down to see 8m56.  Wow, I thought, could I keep this up?  I felt fairly comfortable and was enjoying 'people watching' the other runners with their various kit, paraphenalia and running styles, of which there were some bizarre displays.

The weather was perfect by now.  A little bit of sun and a light cool breeze.  I love running in the cold.  At around mile 4 the course turns back on itself and I eventually see Elin, who's looking like she enjoying herself.  I take on a shot blok and almost choke on some water.

By mile 5 I'd managed to start running alongside some bloke who had THE most annoying breathing sounds.  Ok, everyone has to breathe, but this was ridiculous.  He was running more or less the same speed as me so I couldn't shake him off.  It was at this point as well that I started getting probably the worst stitch I've had, all down my right rib cage.  I tried to take deep breaths and slowed down (but so did the annoying Breather!). 

By the time we'd got back to the start point (to start another out and back section) it seemed I'd managed to get rid of the Breather and the stitch.  Excellent.  As we headed out along the coast I started to feel the wind stir a bit more but not enough to feel the benefit of a tail wind.  The next time I remember on my watch was 1h30 at 10 miles.  So up to this point, I'd been maintaining a pace of 9 minute 1 second per mile.

As we got to the final turnaround point at around 11 miles I started to tire.  I tried to keep up with a small group who'd been talking about making it sub 2.  As we turned to head west again, we were hit by a ferocious headwind.  Well this isn't going to help is it, I thought.  I could now feel my quads and hamstrings screaming out for me to stop.  My heart rate was high.

I was slowing down but I was determined.  The group I'd tried to follow had done well and were now about 50 metres ahead of me.  I passed Elin coming the other way and she gave me a slight pained expresssion, as did I I'm sure.  I took on some water and walked a few steps.  I immeditely felt the momentum go and my hips starting to seize so I forced myself to run again.  Turning the last corner near an appartment block, I could see the finish, a mile away.

I was getting a bit delirious and my quest was turning me into a messy, heavy breathing, snot covered, hair all over the place crazy woman.  I looked at my watch and I remember it said 1h50 something.  I had a slight panic.  I powered on, leaning into the strong wind which seemed intent on pushing me backwards.  Just before the 13 mile mark was a fairly steep, short hill.  About half way up I broke into a walk again, wondering if it would be quicker to walk (!).  Weirdly, a girl next to me started walking aswell and I slurred a "come on let's go" to her.  I'm not sure she appreciated it.  Running again, I got to the top of the hill.  All that was left to do now was to run down the other side and turn a corner into the finish.  I remember my watch saying 1h58 something.

I picked up great momentum down the hill and carried it on to the turn.  I got blocked by a guy dressed as Big Bird from Sesame St.  I rounded him (and tutted) and strided towards the line.  I heard a familiar voice shouting "come on Lowriiiiii!!!!" (my mum) but there was no time to look.  I cross the line and stopped my watch.  01:59:10.

I raised my arms aloft in rather embarrassing style.  I was so relieved and happy.  In dramatic fashion, I draped myself over the barriers and got asked by a St. John's Ambulance chap if I was ok.  I certainly was.

For my troubles I received a rather novel trainer shaped trophy.  An excellent memento to remind me of the day I finally got a 1h something against my name for a half marathon.

Of course I'm still not 100% satisfied.  I wasn't happy with the way I wilted towards the end.  Was it the headwind?  Maybe.  Next time I'd like to stay strong throughout the race.

Next race is San Domenico 20 with my friend Becca, who's running her first London Marathon next month.